25033	----	None 
19415	----	[Illustration: FIG. 2. General view of part of the Library attached to the Church of S. Wallberg at Zutphen. _Frontispiece_] LIBRARIES IN THE MEDIEVAL AND RENAISSANCE PERIODS. _THE REDE LECTURE, DELIVERED JUNE 13, 1894_ BY J.W. CLARK, M.A., F.S.A. REGISTRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY, AND FORMERLY FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. CAMBRIDGE: MACMILLAN AND BOWES. 1894 _The lecture was illustrated by lantern-slides. A brief notice of each of these is printed in the text in Italics at the place in the lecture where the slide was exhibited._ LIBRARIES. A library may be considered from two very different points of view: as a workshop, or as a Museum. The former commends itself to the practical turn of mind characteristic of the present day; common sense urges that mechanical ingenuity, which has done so much in other directions, should be employed in making the acquisition of knowledge less cumbrous and less tedious; that as we travel by steam, so we should also read by steam, and be helped in our studies by the varied resources of modern invention. There lies on my table at this present moment a _Handbook of Library Appliances_, in which fifty-three closely printed pages are devoted to this interesting subject, with illustrations of various contrivances by which the working of a large library is to be facilitated and brought up to date. In fact, from this point of view a library may be described as a gigantic mincing-machine, into which the labours of the past are flung, to be turned out again in a slightly altered form as the literature of the present. If, on the other hand, a library be regarded as a Museum--and I use the word in its original sense as a temple or haunt of the Muses--very different ideas are evoked. Such a place is as useful as the other--every facility for study is given--but what I may call the personal element as affecting the treasures there assembled is brought prominently forward. The development of printing, as the result of individual effort; the art of bookbinding, as practised by different persons in different countries; the history of the books themselves, the libraries in which they have found a home, the hands that have turned their pages, are there taken note of. Modern literature is fully represented, but the men of past days are not thrust out of sight; their footsteps seem to linger in the rooms where once they walked--their shades seem to protect the books they once handled. What Browning felt about frescoes may be applied--_mutatis mutandis_--to books in such an asylum as I am trying to portray: Wherever a fresco peels and drops, Wherever an outline weakens and wanes Till the latest life in the painting stops, Stands One whom each fainter pulse-tick pains: One, wishful each scrap should clutch the brick, Each tinge not wholly escape the plaster, A lion who dies of an ass's kick, The wronged great soul of an ancient Master. It may be safely asserted that at no time has a love of reading, a desire to be fairly well-informed on all sorts of subjects, been so widely diffused as at the present day. As a necessary consequence of this the 'workshop' view of a library has been very generally accepted. I have no wish to undervalue it; I only plead for the recognition of another sentiment which may at times be overlaid by the pressure of daily avocations. In Cambridge, at least, there is no fear that it should ever be obliterated altogether, for we have effected a happy alliance between the present and the past, by which neither is neglected, neither is unduly prominent. This being the case, it has occurred to me that I may be so fortunate as to interest a Cambridge audience while I set before them some of the results at which I have arrived in investigating the position, the arrangement, and the fittings of libraries in the medieval and renaissance periods. It will, of course, be impossible to attempt more than a sketch of so extensive a subject, and I fear that I must omit the contents of the bookcases altogether; but I shall hope, by a selection of typical illustrations, to make you realise what some of the libraries, monastic, public, or private, that fall within my period were like. I must begin with a few words about Roman libraries, because their methods influenced the Middle Ages, and are, in fact, the precursors of those in fashion in our own times. The Romans preserved their books in two ways: either in a small room or closet, for reading elsewhere; or in a large apartment, fitted up with greater or less splendour, according to the taste or the means of the possessor, in which the books were doubtless studied as in a modern library. An instructive example of the former class was one of the first discoveries at Herculaneum in 1754. It was a very small room, so small in fact that a man who stood with his arms extended in the centre of it could almost touch the walls on either side, yet 1700 rolls were found in it. These were kept in wooden presses (_armaria_) which stood against the walls like a modern bookcase. Besides these a rectangular case occupied the central space, with only a narrow passage to the right and left between it and the wall-cases. These cases were about a man's height, and had been numbered. It may be concluded from this that a catalogue of the books had once existed. In larger libraries the books were kept in similar presses, but they were ornamented with the busts or pictures of illustrious men, under each of which was a suitable inscription, usually in verse. No ancient figure of one of these book-presses has been preserved, so far as I have been able to ascertain; but, as furniture is apt to retain its original forms with but little variation for a very long period, a representation of a press containing the four Gospels, which occurs among the mosaics in the Mausoleum of the Empress Galla Placidia at Ravenna, though it could not have been executed before the middle of the fifth century, may be taken as a fairly accurate picture of the book-presses of an earlier age. It is unnecessary to describe it, for it is exactly like a still later example which I am about to shew you. This picture occurs at the beginning of the MS. of the Vulgate called the _Codex Amiatinus_, which is now proved to have been written in England, at Wearmouth or Jarrow, but probably by an Italian scribe, shortly before 716. The seated figure represents Ezra writing the Law. _Bookcase in the Codex Amiatinus: from Garrucci, "Storia dell' arte Cristiana,"_ iii. pl. 126. To get an idea of one of the larger Roman libraries in ancient times we cannot do better than turn to that of the Vatican at the present day. It was fitted up as we see it now--with presses, busts, and antique vases, by Pope Sixtus V., in 1588. It is therefore, at best, only a modern antique; but arranged so skilfully that an ancient Roman, if he could come to life again, might imagine himself in his own library. _Interior of part of the Vatican Library._ The library-era, as we may call it, of the Christian world, began with the publication of the Rule of S. Benedict, early in the sixth century. But, just as that Rule emphasized and arranged on the lines of an ordered system observances which had long been practised by isolated congregations or individuals living in solitude--so the part of it which deals with study was evidently no new thing. S. Benedict did not invent literature or libraries; he only lent the sanction of his name to the study of the one and the formation of the other. That libraries existed before his period is proved by allusions to them in the Fathers and other early writers; but, as those allusions are general, and say nothing from which either their size or their arrangement can be inferred, I shall dismiss them in very few sentences. The earliest is said to have been the collection got together at Jerusalem, by Bishop Alexander, at the beginning of the third century. Another was founded about fifty years later at Cæsarea by Origen. This is described as not only extensive, but remarkable for the importance of the manuscripts it contained. Others are recorded at Hippo, at Cirta, at Constantinople, and at Rome, where both S. Peter's and the Lateran had their special collections of books. I suspect that all these libraries were in connexion with churches, possibly actually within their walls. At Cirta, for example, it is recorded that during the persecution of 303-304 the officers "went to the church where the Christians used to assemble, and spoiled it of chalices, lamps, etc., but when they came into the library (_bibliothecam_), the presses (_armaria_) there were found empty." This language seems to imply that the sacred vessels and the books were in different parts of the same building. The instructions, again, of the dying Augustine, who bequeathed his library to the church at Hippo, lead to the same conclusion. The library of S. Peter's at Rome, though added to the basilica erected by Constantine, long after its primitive foundation, was on the ground-floor in the angle between the nave and the north limb of the transept, a position which may perhaps have been selected in accordance with early usage. I now pass to the treatment of books in the libraries of the monastic orders. These either adopted the Rule of S. Benedict, or based their own Rule upon its provisions. It will therefore be desirable to examine what he said on the subject of study, and I will translate a few lines from the 48th chapter of his Rule, _Of daily manual labour_. Idleness is the enemy of the soul; hence brethren ought, at certain seasons, to occupy themselves with manual labour, and again, at certain hours, with holy reading.... Between Easter and the calends of October let them apply themselves to reading from the fourth hour till near the sixth hour. After the sixth hour, when they rise from table, let them rest on their beds in complete silence; or, if any one should wish to read to himself, let him do so in such a way as not to disturb any one else.... From the calends of October to the beginning of Lent let them apply themselves to reading until the second hour.... During Lent, let them apply themselves to reading from morning until the end of the third hour ... and, in these days of Lent, let them receive a book apiece from the library, and read it straight through. These books are to be given out at the beginning of Lent. It is important that one or two seniors should be appointed to go round the monastery at the hours when brethren are engaged in reading, in case some ill-conditioned brother should be giving himself up to sloth or idle talk, instead of reading steadily; so that not only is he useless to himself, but incites others to do wrong. "Behold! how great a matter a little fire kindleth!" These simple words, uttered by one who in power of far-reaching influence has had no equal, gave an impulse to study in the ages it once was the fashion to call dark which grew with the growth of the Order--till wherever a Benedictine house arose--or a monastery of any one of the Orders which were but off-shoots from the Benedictine tree--books were multiplied, and a library came into being, small indeed at first, but increasing year by year, till the wealthier houses had gathered together a collection of books that would do credit to a modern University. It is very interesting to notice, as Order after Order was founded, a steady development of feeling with regard to books, and an ever increasing care for their safe-keeping. S. Benedict had contented himself with general directions for study; the Cluniacs prescribe the selection of a special officer to take charge of the books, with an annual audit of them, and the assignment of a single volume to each brother; the Carthusians and the Cistercians provide for the loan of books to extraneous persons under certain conditions--a provision which the Benedictines in their turn adopted. Further, by the time that the Cluniac Customs were drawn up in the form in which they have come down to us, it is evident that the number of books exceeded the number of brethren; for both in them, and in the statutes which Lanfranc promulgated for the use of the English Benedictines in 1070, the keeper of the books is directed to bring all the books of the House into Chapter, after which the brethren, one by one, are to bring in the books they had borrowed on the same day in the previous year. Some of the former class of books were probably service-books, but, after this deduction has been made, we may fairly conclude that by the end of the eleventh century Benedictine Houses possessed two sets of books: (1) those which were distributed among the brethren; (2) those which were kept in some safe place, probably the church, as part of the valuables of the House: or, to adopt modern phrases, they had a lending library and a library of reference. The Augustinians go a step farther than the Benedictines and the Orders derived from them, for they prescribe the kind of press in which the books are to be kept. Both they and the Premonstratensians permit their books to be lent on the receipt of a pledge of sufficient value. Lastly, the Friars, though they were established on the principle of holding no possessions of any kind, soon found that books were indispensable; that, in the words of a Norman Bishop, _Claustrum sine armario, castrum sine armamentario_. So, by a strange irony, it came to pass that their libraries excelled those of most other Orders, as Richard de Bury testifies in the _Philobiblon_. Whenever we turned aside to the cities and places where the Mendicants had their convents ... we found heaped up amidst the utmost poverty the utmost riches of wisdom.... These men are as ants ever preparing their meat in the summer, and ingenious bees continually fabricating cells of honey.... And to pay due regard to truth, although they lately at the eleventh hour have entered the Lord's vineyard ..., they have added more in this brief hour to the stock of the sacred books than all the other vine-dressers; following in the footsteps of Paul, the last to be called but the first in preaching, who spread the gospel of Christ more widely than all others. It might have been expected, from the use of the word _library_ in the Rule of S. Benedict, that a special room assigned to books would have been one of the primitive component parts of every Benedictine House. This, however, is not the case. Such a room does usually occur in these Houses, but it will be found, on examination, that it was added to some previously existing structure in the fourteenth or fifteenth century. Its absence from the primitive plan brings out two points very clearly: (1) how few books even a wealthy community could afford to possess for several centuries after the foundation of the Order; (2) how strictly the Order adhered to prescribed arrangements in laying out its Houses, for even those built, or rebuilt, after books had become plentiful, do not admit a Library as an indispensable item in their ground-plan. How then did they bestow their books after they had become too numerous to be kept in the church? The answer to this question is a very curious one, when we consider what our climate is, and indeed what the climate of the whole of Europe is, during the winter months. The centre of the monastic life was the cloister. Brethren were not allowed to congregate in any other part of the conventual buildings, except when they went into the frater, or dining-hall, for their meals, or at certain hours in certain seasons into the warming-house (_calefactorium_). In the cloister accordingly they kept their books; and there they sat and studied, or conducted the schooling of the novices and choir-boys in winter and in summer alike. Such a locality as this could not have been very favourable to the preservation of the books themselves. They, however, had a certain amount of protection which was denied to their readers, for they were shut up in presses. The word used for these, _armarium_, is the same as that which was applied by the Romans to their bookcases; and probably the idea of such a piece of furniture was due to a far-off echo of ancient usage. The official who had charge of the books did not derive his name from them, as in modern times, but from the presses which contained them--for he was uniformly styled _armarius_. As time went on, greater comfort was introduced. The windows of the walk of the cloister where the presses stood, usually the walk next the Church, were glazed--and sometimes not merely with white glass, but with mottoes alluding to the authors whose works were near at hand; while in some monasteries the elder monks were provided with small wooden studies, called "carrells." A description of the whole system has been preserved for us in that curious book _The Rites of Durham_; but it must be remembered that this represents the customs of the convent just before the suppression, and therefore gives no idea of the rigour of an earlier time. _Part of the north walk of the cloister, Durham._ In the north syde of the Cloister, from the corner over against the Church dour to the corner over againste the Dorter dour, was all fynely glased from the hight to the sole within a litle of the grownd into the Cloister garth. And in every wyndowe iij Pewes or Carrells, where every one of the old Monks had his carrell, severall by himselfe, that, when they had dyned, they dyd resort to that place of Cloister, and there studyed upon there books, every one in his carrell, all the after nonne, unto evensong tyme. This was there exercise every daie. All there pewes or carrells was all fynely wainscotted and verie close, all but the forepart, which had carved wourke that gave light in at ther carrell doures of wainscott. And in every carrell was a deske to lye there bookes on. And the carrells was no greater then from one stanchell of the wyndowe to another. And over against the carrells against the church wall did stande certaine great almeries [or cupbords] of waynscott all full of bookes [with great store of ancient manuscripts to help them in their study], wherein did lye as well the old auncyent written Doctors of the Church as other prophane authors with dyverse other holie mens wourks, so that every one dyd studye what Doctor pleased them best, havinge the Librarie at all tymes to goe studie in besydes there carrells. No example of an English monastic book-press has survived, so far as I have been able to discover; but it would be rash to say that none exists. Meanwhile I will shew you a French example of a press, from the sacristy of the Cathedral at Bayeux, but I cannot be sure that it was originally intended to hold books. M. Viollet-Le-Duc, from whom I borrow it, decides that it was probably made early in the thirteenth century. _Cupboard from sacristy of Bayeux Cathedral._ The Durham _Rites_ speak only of book-presses standing in the cloister against the walls; but it was not unusual to have recesses in the wall itself, fitted with shelves, and probably closed by a door. Two such are to be seen at Worcester, immediately to the north of the chapter-house door. Each is about ten feet wide by two feet deep. _Book-recess, east walk of the cloister, Worcester._ A similar receptacle for books seems to have been contemplated in Augustinian Houses, for in the Customs of the Augustinian Priory of Barnwell, written towards the end of the thirteenth century, the following passage occurs: The press in which the books are kept ought to be lined inside with wood, that the damp of the walls may not moisten or stain the books. This press should be divided vertically as well as horizontally by sundry partitions, on which the books may be ranged so as to be separated from one another; for fear they be packed so close as to injure each other, or delay those who want them. Recesses such as these were developed in Cistercian houses into a small square room without a window, and but little larger than an ordinary cupboard. In the plans of Clairvaux and Kirkstall this room is placed between the chapter-house and the transept of the church; and similar rooms, in similar situations, have been found at Fountains, Beaulieu, Tintern, Netley, etc. The catalogue, made 1396, of the Cistercian Abbey at Meaux in Holderness, now totally destroyed, gives us a glimpse of the internal arrangement of one of these rooms. The books were placed on shelves against the walls, and even over the door. Again, the catalogue of the House of White Canons at Titchfield in Hampshire, dated 1400, shews that the books were kept in a small room, on shelves there called _columpnæ_, set against the walls. It is obvious that no study could have gone forward in such places as these; they must have been intended for security only, and to replace the wooden presses used elsewhere. As time went on, the number of the books would naturally increase, and by the beginning of the fifteenth century the larger monasteries at least had accumulated many hundred volumes. For instance, at Christ Church, Canterbury, at the beginning of the 14th century, there were 698. These had to be bestowed in various parts of the House without order or selection,--in presses set up wherever a vacant corner could be found--to the great inconvenience, we may be sure, of the more studious monks, or of scholars who came to consult them. To remedy such a state of things a definite room was constructed for books--in addition to the presses in the cloister, which were still retained for the books in daily use. A few instances of this will suffice. At Christ Church, Canterbury, a library was built between 1414 and 1443 by Archbishop Chichele, over the Prior's Chapel; at Durham between 1416 and 1446 by Prior Wessyngton, over the old sacristy; at Citeaux in 1480, over the writing-room (_scriptorium_); at Clairvaux between 1495 and 1503, in the same position; at S. Victor in Paris--an Augustinian House--between 1501 and 1508; and at S. Germain des Prés in the same city about 1513, over the south cloister. Most of us, I take it, have more or less imperfect ideas of the appearance of a great monastery in the days of its completeness; and information on this point is unfortunately much more defective for our own country than it is for France. In illustration, therefore, of what I have been saying about the position of monastic libraries, I will next shew you two bird's-eye views of the Benedictine House of S. Germain des Prés, Paris. The first, dated 1687, shews the library over the south walk of the cloister, where it was placed in 1513. It must not, however, be supposed that no library existed before this. On the contrary, the House seems to have had one from the first foundation, and so early as the thirteenth century it could be consulted by strangers, and books borrowed from it. The second view, dated 1723, shews a still further extension of the library. It has now invaded the west side of the cloister, which has received an upper storey, and even the external appearance of the venerable refectory, which was respected when nearly all the rest of the buildings were rebuilt in a classical style, has been sacrificed to a similar gallery. The united lengths of these three rooms must have been little short of 324 feet. This library was at the disposal of all scholars who desired to use it. When the Revolution came it contained more than 49,000 printed books, and 7000 manuscripts. The fittings belonged to the period of its latest extension: they appear to have been sumptuous, but for my present object, uninteresting. _Views of S. Germain des Prés:_ (1) _from Franklin, "Anciennes Bibliothèques de Paris,"_ i. 126; (2) _from Bouillart, "Histoire de l'Abbaye de S. Germain des Préz."_ At Canterbury the library, built as I have said, over the Prior's Chapel, was 60 feet long, by 22 feet broad; and we know, from some memoranda written in 1508, when a number of books were sent to be bound or repaired, that it contained sixteen bookcases, each of which had four shelves. I have calculated that this library could have contained about 2000 volumes. I have shewn you a Benedictine House, and will next shew you a bird's-eye view of Citeaux, the parent house of the Cistercian Order, founded at the close of the eleventh century. The original was taken, so far as I can make out, about 1500, at any rate before the primitive buildings had been seriously altered. The library here occupied two positions--under the roof between the dormitory and the refectory (which must have been extremely inconvenient); and subsequently it was rebuilt in an isolated situation on the north side of the second cloister, over the writing-room (_scriptorium_). This was also the position of the new library at Clairvaux--the other great Cistercian House in France--the fame of which was equal to, if not greater than, that of Citeaux. Of this latter library we have two descriptions; the first written in 1517, the second in 1723. _View of Citeaux: from Viollet-Le-Duc, "Dictionnaire de l'Architecture,"_ i. 271. The former account, by the secretary of the Queen of Sicily, who visited Clairvaux 13 July 1517, is as follows: On the same side of the cloister are fourteen studies, where the monks write and study, and over the said studies is the new library, to which one mounts by a broad and lofty spiral staircase from the aforesaid cloister. This library is 189 feet long, by 17 feet wide. In it are 48 seats (_bancs_), and in each seat 4 shelves (_poulpitres_) furnished with books on all subjects, but chiefly theology; the greater number of the said books are of vellum, and written by hand, richly storied and illuminated. The building that contains the said library is magnificent, built of stone, and excellently lighted on both sides with fine large windows, well glazed, looking out on the said cloister and the burial-ground of the brethren.... The said library is paved throughout with small tiles adorned with various designs. The description written in 1723, by the learned Benedictines to whom we owe the _Voyage Littéraire_, is equally interesting: From the great cloister you proceed into the cloister of conversation, so called because the brethren are allowed to converse there. In this cloister there are 12 or 15 little cells, all of a row, where the brethren formerly used to write books; for this reason they are still called at the present day the writing-rooms. Over these cells is the Library, the building for which is large, vaulted, well lighted, and stocked with a large number of manuscripts, fastened by chains to desks; but there are not many printed books. In the great cloister, on the side next the Chapter House, the same observer noted "books chained on wooden desks, which brethren can come and read when they please." The library was for serious study, the cloister for daily reading, probably in the main devotional. If my time were unlimited I could describe to you several other fifteenth century monastic libraries, but I feel that I must content myself with only one more--that of the Franciscan House in London, commonly called Christ's Hospital. The first stone of this library was laid by Sir Richard Whittington, 21 October, 1421, and by Christmas Day in the following year the roof was finished. Stow tells us that it was 129 feet long by 31 feet broad; and the Letters Patent of Henry the Eighth add that it had 28 desks, and 28 double settles of wainscot. The whole building--so well worth preservation--has been totally destroyed, but I am able to shew you a view of it. _Library of Christ's Hospital: from Trollope's "History of Christ's Hospital,"_ p. 105. This view is an excellent illustration of the point on which I have insisted, namely, that in the course of the fifteenth century the great religious Houses--no matter to what Order they belonged--found that their books had become too numerous for the localities primitively intended for them, and began to build special libraries--usually over some existing structure; or--in other words--established a library of reference, which was not unfrequently thrown open to scholars in general, who were allowed to borrow books from it, on execution of an indenture, or deposit of a sufficient pledge. "It is safer to fall back on a pledge, than to proceed against an individual," said the Customs of the Priory at Abingdon. In what way were these monastic libraries fitted up? No trace of any monastic fittings has survived, so far as I am aware, either in England, or in France, or in Italy; and even M. Viollet-Le-Duc dismisses "The Library" in a few brief sentences, of which the keynote is despair. My own view is that a close analogy may be traced between the fittings of monastic libraries and those of collegiate libraries; and that when we understand the one we shall understand the other. The collegiate system was in no sense of the word monastic, indeed it was to a certain extent established to counteract monastic influence; but it is absurd to suppose that the younger communities would borrow nothing from the elder--especially when we reflect that the monastic system had completed at least seven centuries of successful existence before Walter de Merton was moved to found a college; that many of the subsequent founders of colleges were churchmen, if not actually monks; and that there were monastic colleges at both Universities. Further, as we have seen that study was specially enjoined upon the monks by S. Benedict, it is precisely in the direction of study that we should expect to find common features in the two sets of communities. And this, in fact, is what came to pass. An examination of the statutes affecting the library in the codes imposed upon the colleges of Oxford and Cambridge shews that their provisions were borrowed directly from the monastic Customs. The resemblances are too striking to be accidental. Take, for instance, this clause, from the statutes of Oriel College, Oxford, dated 1329: The common books (_communes libri_) of the House are to be brought out and inspected once a year, on the feast of the Commemoration of Souls [2 November], in presence of the Provost or his deputy, and of the Scholars [Fellows]. Every one of them in turn, in order of seniority, may select a single book which either treats of the science to which he is devoting himself, or which he requires for his use. This he may keep until the same festival in the succeeding year, when a similar selection of books is to take place, and so on, from year to year. If there should happen to be more books than persons, those that remain are to be selected in the same manner. Bishop Bateman--who had been educated in the priory at Norwich, and whose brother was an abbot--gave statutes to Trinity Hall, Cambridge, in 1350, with similar provisions, and the addition that certain books "are to remain continuously in the library-chamber, fastened with iron chains, for the common use of the Fellows." These were copied by Wykeham at New College, Oxford, but with extended provisions for lending books to students, and a direction that all the books "which remain unassigned after the Fellows have made their selection are to be fastened with iron chains, and remain for ever in the common Library." This statute was repeated at King's College, Cambridge, and at several colleges in Oxford. Let me now remind you of Archbishop Lanfranc's statute for English Benedictines, dated 1070, which was based, as he himself tells us, on the general monastic practice of his time: On the Monday after the first Sunday in Lent, before brethren come into the Chapter House, the librarian (_custos librorum_) shall have had a carpet laid down, and all the books got together upon it, except those which a year previously had been assigned for reading. These brethren are to bring with them, when they come into the Chapter House, each his book in his hand.... Then the librarian shall read a statement as to the manner in which brethren have had books during the past year. As each brother hears his name pronounced he is to give back the book which had been entrusted to him for reading; and he whose conscience accuses him of not having read the book through which he had received, is to fall on his face, confess his fault, and entreat forgiveness. The librarian shall then make a fresh distribution of books, namely, a different volume to each brother for his reading. You will agree with me, I feel sure, that this statute, or similar provisions extracted from other regulations, is the source of the collegiate provisions for an annual audit and distribution of books; while the reservation of the undistributed volumes, and their chaining for common use in a library, was in accordance with the unwritten practice of the monasteries. This being the case I think that we are justified in assuming that the internal fittings of the libraries would be identical also; and it must be further remembered that both collegiate and monastic libraries were being fitted up during the same period, the fifteenth century. When books were first placed in a separate room, fastened with iron chains, for the use of the Fellows of a college or the monks of a convent, the piece of furniture used was, I take it, an elongated lectern or desk, of a convenient height for a seated reader to use. The books lay on their sides on the desk, and were attached by chains to a horizontal bar above it. There were at least two libraries in this University fitted with such desks, at the colleges of Pembroke and Queens'; and that it was a common form abroad is proved by its appearance in a French translation of the first book of the _Consolations of Philosophy_ of Boethius, which I lately found in the British Museum[1], executed towards the end of the fifteenth century (fig. 1). [Illustration: FIG. 1. Interior of a library: from a MS. of a French translation of the first book of the _Consolations of Philosophy_ of Boethius.] One example at least of these fittings still exists, in the library attached to the church of S. Wallberg, at Zutphen in Holland. This library was built in its present position in 1555, but I suspect that some of the fittings, those namely which are more richly ornamented, were removed from an earlier library. Each of these desks is 9 feet long by 5 feet 6 inches high; and, as you will see directly, a man can sit and read at them very conveniently. I shall shew you first a general view of part of the library (fig. 2); and, secondly, a single desk (fig. 3). Such cases as these must have been in use at the Sorbonne, where a library was first established in 1289 for books chained for the common convenience of the Fellows (_in communem sociorum utilitatem_). A description of this library, based probably on records now lost, has been given by Claude Héméré (Librarian 1638-1643) in his MS. history. This I proceed to translate: [Illustration: FIG. 3. Desk in the library at Zutphen: from a photograph.] The old library was contained under one roof. It was firmly and solidly built, and was 120 feet long by 36 feet broad. Further, that it might be the more safe from the danger of being burnt, should any house in the neighbourhood catch fire, there was a sufficient interval between it and every dwelling-house. Each side was pierced with 19 windows of equal size, that plenty of daylight both from the east and the west (for this was the direction of the room) might fall upon the desks, and fill the whole length and breadth of the library. There were 28 desks, marked with the letters of the alphabet, five feet high, and so arranged that they were separated by a moderate interval. They were loaded with books, all of which were chained, that no sacrilegious hand might [carry them off. These chains were attached to the right-hand board of every book] so that they might be readily thrown aside, and reading not be interfered with. Moreover the volumes could be opened and shut without difficulty. A reader who sat down in the space between two desks, as they rose to a height of five feet as I said above, neither saw nor disturbed any one else who might be reading or writing in another place by talking or by any other interruption, unless the other student wished it, or paid attention to any question that might be put to him. It was required, by the ancient rules of the library, that reading, writing, and handling of books should go forward in complete silence. This system must have been very wasteful as regards space; for only a few volumes, say a couple of dozen, could be accommodated on a single desk. As books accumulated therefore some other form of case had to be devised, which would accommodate more volumes than could be consulted at once. The desk could not be dispensed with so long as books were chained, but one or more shelves were added to it. This addition was effected in two ways, according as the books were to stand on their ends, or to lie on their sides. As an illustration of the former plan I will take the library of Merton College, Oxford, attributed by tradition to William Reade, Bishop of Chichester 1368-85; and it has been so little altered that it may be taken as a type of a medieval collegiate or monastic library. It is a long narrow room, as all medieval libraries were, with equidistant windows, and the bookcases stand at right angles to the walls in the spaces between each pair of windows, in front of which is the seat for the reader. Each bookcase had originally two shelves only above the desk. I will shew you, first, a general view of the interior of this library, and then a single bookcase and seat. _Merton College, Oxford: (1) general view of the interior of the Library; (2) a single bookcase as at present._ The system of chaining, as adopted in this country, would allow of the books being readily taken down from the shelves, and laid on the desk for reading. One end of the chain was attached to the middle of the upper edge of the right-hand board; the other to a ring which played on a bar set in front of the shelf on which the book stood. The fore-edge of the books, not the back, was turned forwards. A swivel, usually in the middle of the chain, prevented tangling. The chains varied in length according to the distance of the shelf from the desk. The bar was kept in place by a rather elaborate system of iron-work attached to the end of the bookcase, and secured by a lock which often required two keys--that is, the presence of two officials--to open it. To illustrate this I will shew you a sketch of one of the bookcases in Hereford Cathedral (fig. 4). [Illustration: FIG. 4. Bookcase in Hereford Cathedral. (Lent by the Syndics of the University Press.)] Having said thus much about chaining, I return to the Merton bookcases. Cases similar to these were evidently in use in the library of Christ Church, Canterbury, where the memoranda I mentioned record four shelves--that is, two on each side--in each bookcase, and also at Clairvaux, where a similar feature was observed. The design was evidently much admired, for we find cases on a similar plan, but larger, elsewhere in Oxford, as at the Colleges of Corpus Christi, S. John's, Trinity, Jesus, and in the Bodleian Library. _Bookcase in the Library of Corpus Christi College, Oxford._ Another device for combining desk with shelf is to be seen at Trinity Hall, Cambridge, and, as these cases were set up after 1626, we have here a curious instance of a deliberate return to ancient forms. There is evidence that there once existed below the shelf a second desk, which could be drawn in and out as required, so that a reader could stand or sit as he pleased, as you will see from the next illustration. _Bookcase in the Library of Trinity Hall, Cambridge._ The University of Leiden in Holland adopted a modification of this design, for there the shelf is above the desk, and readers could only stand to use the books (fig. 5). [Illustration: FIG. 5. Bookcases in the library of the University of Leiden: from a print by J.C. Woudanus, dated 1610. (Lent by the Syndics of the University Press.)] An arrangement analogous to this was adopted at Citeaux, as we may gather from the catalogue, drawn up in 1480. I will not trouble you with details, but merely say that there was evidently a shelf below the desk as well as one above it. The cases therefore resembled those at Leiden, with this difference; and they were also probably of such a height that a reader could conveniently sit at them. On the continent, where elaborate bindings came early into fashion, sometimes protected by equally elaborate bosses at their corners, it would have been impossible to arrange the volumes as we did side by side on the shelves. It therefore became the fashion to place a shelf below the desk, and to lay the books upon it on their sides. The earliest library fitted in this manner that I have been able to discover is at Cesena in North Italy. It was built in 1452, by Domenico Malatesta Novello, for the convent of S. Francesco. It is possible, therefore, that the parent house of S. Francesco at Assisi, which had a large library, divided, so early as 1381, into a _Libreria publica_ and a _Libreria secreta_, had similar bookcases. I am going to shew you a general view of the room, which has a thoroughly medieval character, next the cases (fig. 6), and thirdly a single book with its chain (fig. 7). You will observe that the seats for the reader are no longer independent, but are combined with the bookcase. [Illustration: FIG. 6. Bookcases at west end of south side of Library, Cesena.] These cases no doubt suggested those in the Medicean library at Florence, begun in 1525 by Michael Angelo. The cases, perhaps the finest specimens in existence of wood-carving as applied to this style of work, were designed by other artists shortly after the completion of the room. [Illustration: FIG. 7. Part of a single bookcase in the Library, Cesena.] _Bookcase in the Medicean Library at Florence._ In English libraries at least bookcases arranged on what I may term the Oxford type were in general use throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The invention of printing had largely increased the number of volumes, and at the same time diminished their value, so that chaining was no longer necessary. When it had been abandoned neither a desk, nor a seat in close proximity to the books, was required. In consequence, though libraries continued to be built on the ancient type with numerous windows close to the floor, it was possible to alter the old cases, or to make new ones, with a far larger number of shelves than heretofore; and when further space for books was needed, low cases were interposed between each pair of tall ones. A splendid specimen of this treatment is to be seen at S. John's College, Cambridge, where the bookcases were put up soon after the completion of the library in 1628. Though the plinth and central pilaster have been taken away, and the levels of the shelves changed, their original appearance can be recovered at a glance. On the top of all the low cases there was a desk, in memory of that of ancient times. At the end of the taller cases is a panel to contain the catalogue, here closed by a small door. _Bookcases in S. John's College Library._ Sometimes, as we see at Peterhouse, ancient usage asserted itself so far that a seat was contrived by making the plinth of the tall case project to a sufficient distance. These bookcases were set up between 1641 and 1648. _Bookcase in Peterhouse Library._ When the necessity for still further space for books became imperative, the seat was given up, or was dropped to the height of a step, as in the bookcases in the south room of the University Library, Cambridge, put up soon after 1649. The carved wing, however, which had masked the ends of it, was retained as an ornament, both there and in the old library at Pembroke College, Cambridge, furnished soon after 1690. Meanwhile a new system of arranging bookcases had come into use on the continent. So far as I have been able to discover, the first library arranged in the way with which we are familiar, namely, with the bookcases set against the walls instead of at right angles to them, is that of the Escurial. These cases were made by Herrera, the architect of the building, in 1584. There is no indication of chaining, but, in conformity with ancient usage, the fore edge of the books, instead of their backs, is turned outwards, and the desk is represented by a shelf, carried all round the room at a convenient height. No doubt so important a structure as this, erected by so mighty a potentate as the King of Spain, would be much talked about, and provoke imitators. Among these, I feel sure, was Cardinal Mazarin, whose library was fitted up in Paris in or about 1647, as a library to be used daily by the public. After his death his books and bookcases were moved to the building in which they may still be seen. I will now shew you views of the two libraries, and you shall decide whether it is not obvious that the one was suggested by the other. _Interior of the Library of the Escurial and of the Bibliothèque Mazarine, Paris._ The new system was not accepted hastily. I believe that Sir Christopher Wren, when he built Trinity College Library in 1695, was the first English architect who ventured to build a library with windows which, as he says himself, "rise high, and give place for the deskes against the walls." I suspect that he borrowed this latter idea from France, which he visited in 1665, and most likely from the Bibliothèque Mazarine, for he has himself recorded his admiration for "the masculine furniture of the Palais Mazarin," though he does not specially mention the library. But he did not discard the ancient arrangement altogether. On the contrary he utilised it so far as to subdivide the room, and provide recesses for the convenience of students. He says: The disposition of the shelves both along the walls and breaking out from the walls must needes prove very convenient and gracefull, and the best way for the students will be to have a litle square table in each celle with 2 chaires. The necessity of bringing windowes and dores to answer to the old building leaves two squarer places at the endes, and 4 lesser celles not to study in, but to be shut up with some neat lattice dores for archives. _One compartment of Trinity College Library._ I need hardly say that neither this library, nor any of those built by Wren's pupils or imitators, shew traces of chaining. The old fashion, however, lingered. In 1651 Humphrey Cheetham directed the books he gave to certain specified parish-churches near Manchester to be chained; in 1694 James Leaver gave books to the grammar-school at Bolton in Lancashire which were chained in a cupboard very like the _armarium_ of a monastic cloister; _Book-cupboard and desk at Bolton, Lancashire. The former is lettered: "The gift of Mr James Leaver, citison of London 1694."_ and at All Saints Church, Hereford, a collection of books bequeathed in 1715 was chained to ordinary shelves set against the walls, as may still be seen. This very obvious way of disposing of books evidently shocked old-fashioned people, for Cole the antiquary, writing in 1703, could still speak of the arrangement of shelves against the walls as _à la moderne_. The libraries I have been describing were more or less public, and I should like, before I conclude, to shew you how books were bestowed in the studies of individual scholars--whether royal, monastic, or secular. I conceive that for many centuries after the beginning of the Christian era the methods of the ancient world were followed; and that private libraries were arranged upon the Roman model in presses, with busts, mottoes, and the like. Such was the library of Isidore, Bishop of Seville (601-636). He was a voluminous writer, and seems to have had a voluminous library, divided, if I interpret the arrangements correctly, among fourteen presses, each ornamented by one or more portrait-busts or medallions with suitable verses beneath them. The series concludes with a notice _Ad interventorem_, a person whom we may call _A talkative intruder_: Non patitur quenquam coram se scriba loquentem: Non est hic quod agas, garrule, perge foras. How useful such an admonition would be in modern libraries, if only it could be enforced! So late as the end of the twelfth century I find a Bishop who bequeathed his library to a church describing it as "the contents of my press (_plenarium armarium meum_)." Gradually, however, other methods came into fashion, due probably to the introduction of the handsome bindings of which I have already spoken. Some particulars have fortunately been preserved of the cost of fitting up a certain tower in the Louvre between 1364 and 1368, to contain the books belonging to Charles the Fifth of France, from which much useful information may be extracted. The fittings of the older library in the palace on the Isle de la Cité were to be taken down and altered, and set up in the new room. Two carpenters are paid for "having taken to pieces all the cases (_bancs_) and two wheels (_roes_), that is revolving desks, which were in the king's library in the palace, and transported them to the Louvre...; and for having put all together again, and hung up the cases (_lettrins_) in the two upper stages of the tower that looks toward the Falconry, to put the king's books in; and for having panelled ... the first of those two stories all round inside." Next a wire-worker (_cagetier_) is paid "for having made trellises of wire in front of two casements and two windows ... to keep out birds and other beasts (_oyseaux et autres bestes_) by reason of, and protection for, the books that shall be placed there." The words _bancs_ and _lettrins_, which I have translated "cases," are both frequently used. The first commonly denotes the cases in monastic libraries, and the second is the usual word for a reading-desk. I think, therefore, that the two words were applied to describe the same piece of furniture, as "stall" and "desk" were with us. I am now going to shew you two pictures of rooms arranged for study, which fit the above description very well. The first is from a French translation of Boccaccio, _Des cas des maleureux nobles hommes et femmes_, written and illuminated in Flanders for King Henry the Seventh[2]. Two gentlemen are studying at a revolving desk, which can be raised or lowered by a screw. This is evidently the "wheel" of the French king's library. Behind are their books, either resting on a desk hung against the wall (which is panelled), or lying on a shelf beneath the desk. The second is also Flemish, of the same date, from a copy of the _Miroir historial_[3]. It represents a monk, probably the author of the book, writing in his study. Behind him are three desks, one above the other, hung against the wall, with books, as in the first picture, resting upon them. Some such arrangement as this must have been long in fashion. Libraries such as those of Diane de Poitiers and Francis the First could not have been bestowed in any other way; and in fact, when books are enriched with metal-work, or have specially elaborate ornaments on their sides, a desk of some sort is indispensable. Humbler scholars had to content themselves with small cupboards constructed in the thickness of the wall, or hung against it, as in the picture I will next shew you, from a French translation of Valerius Maximus, copied for King Edward the Fourth, and dated 1479[4]. You will observe that the lower part of the window is fitted with trellises as in the French king's library, not casements. The upper part only is glazed. Another, and apparently very usual way of bestowing books, especially when they were not numerous, was to place them in a sort of cupboard under the sloping desk on which the owner read or wrote. An excellent specimen of this device--which Richard de Bury specially commends, as being modelled on the Ark, in the side of which the book of the Law was put--is to be found in the _Ship of Fools_ (1498). Another, of a curiously modern type, occurs in an _Hours_ in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, executed about 1445 for Isabel, Duchess of Brittany. Sometimes this book-cupboard supported a revolving desk, which could be raised or depressed by the help of a central screw--like those I shewed you just now; sometimes the desk alone appears, with books laid on it. The forms given to these pieces of furniture by the ingenuity of those who made them are infinite; and they often include beautiful designs for armchairs, fitted with desks for writing. I will shew you just one--not because it is specially beautiful, but because it gives a quaint picture of a scholar's room at the beginning of the fifteenth century[5]. Here Time--as represented by yonder clock--holds up his finger and bids me stop. I would fain have shewn you more pictures--but I hope that you have seen a sufficient number to give you some idea of the surroundings in which our forefathers read and wrote. I am sure that only in this way can we realise that they were real living people--not mere names. Their modes of thought were far different from ours; they may have wasted their time in verbal subtleties, and uncritical tales; but the more we study what they did, the more we shall realise how laborious, how artistic, how conscientious they were; and amid all the developments of the nineteenth century, we shall gratefully confess that the Middle Ages rocked the cradle of our knowledge, and that we "See but their hope become reality." ILLUSTRATIONS. 1. Interior of a library, from Boethius. 2. General view of part of the library attached to the Church of S. Wallberg at Zutphen. 3. Desk in the library at Zutphen. 4. Bookcase in Hereford Cathedral. 5. Bookcases in the library of the University of Leiden. 6. Bookcases at west end of south side of library, Cesena. 7. Part of a single bookcase in the library, Cesena. CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY C.J. CLAY, M.A. & SONS, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. _BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ 1. THE ARCHITECTURAL HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSITY AND OF THE COLLEGES OF CAMBRIDGE AND ETON, by the late ROBERT WILLIS, M.A., F.R.S., Jacksonian Professor in the University of Cambridge. Edited with large Additions and brought up to the present time, by JOHN WILLIS CLARK, M.A. 4 vols. Super royal 8vo. With 342 illustrations and 29 plans. Cambridge University Press. 2. CAMBRIDGE. BRIEF HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE NOTES. Crown 8vo. Seeley and Co. 3. THE BOOK OF OBSERVANCES OF AN ENGLISH HOUSE OF AUSTIN CANONS, written about A.D. 1296. Edited, with an English translation, introduction, plan of an Augustinian House, and notes. 8vo. [_In the Press._ 4. CAMBRIDGE DESCRIBED AND ILLUSTRATED. By J.W. CLARK, M.A. and T.D. ATKINSON. With 30 plates by LE KEUX and STORER and upwards of 100 Illustrations in the text--Plans, Views, Arms, &c. Medium 8vo. [_In preparation._ Macmillan and Bowes, Cambridge. Macmillan and Co., London. FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 1: MSS. Harl. 4335.] [Footnote 2: _MSS. Mus. Brit._ 14. E. V.] [Footnote 3: _MSS. Mus. Brit._ 14. E. I.] [Footnote 4: _MSS. Mus. Brit._ 18. E. IV.] [Footnote 5: _MSS. Mus. Brit._ 20. B. XX.] 
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27954	----	Transcriber's note Minor punctuation errors have been changed without notice. [Illustration: CENTRAL BUILDING THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY] HANDBOOK _of_ THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY 1916 Copyright, 1916, by THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY CONTENTS THE CENTRAL BUILDING: PAGE EXTERIOR 7 SCULPTURE 13 THE REAR OF THE BUILDING 15 FIRST FLOOR ENTRANCES 17 ELEVATORS 19 EXHIBITION ROOM 19 CURRENT PERIODICALS ROOM 19 BUSINESS OFFICES 21 TECHNOLOGY DIVISION 21 PATENTS ROOM 22 THE LIBRARY FOR THE BLIND 22 SECOND FLOOR ORIENTAL DIVISION 23 JEWISH DIVISION 23 SLAVONIC DIVISION 23 SCIENCE DIVISION 25 ECONOMICS DIVISION 25 BUSINESS OFFICES 25 THIRD FLOOR PUBLIC CATALOGUE ROOM 27 INFORMATION DESK 31 APPLICATION FOR BOOKS 31 THE MAIN READING ROOM 31 THE LIBRARY'S BOOKS 33 USE OF BOOKS 39 STACK 39 GENEALOGY ROOM 39 AMERICAN HISTORY DIVISION 39 RESERVE BOOKS 41 PRINTS ROOM 43 ART AND ARCHITECTURE 43 MAP ROOM 45 STUART GALLERY 45 GENERAL GALLERY 45 PRINTS GALLERY 45 MANUSCRIPT DIVISION 46 MUSIC DIVISION 47 BASEMENT NEWSPAPER ROOM 47 CENTRAL CIRCULATION BRANCH 49 CHILDREN'S ROOM 51 LIBRARY SCHOOL 51 PUBLIC TELEPHONES 53 BUSINESS OFFICES 53 TRAVELLING LIBRARIES OFFICE 53 CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT (BRANCHES): CIRCULATION OF BOOKS 55 SPECIAL COLLECTIONS 57 INTERBRANCH LOAN 57 READING ROOMS 57 LIBRARY FOR THE BLIND 59 TRAVELLING LIBRARIES 59 WORK WITH CHILDREN 61 LECTURES AND MEETINGS 62 HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE LIBRARY: THE ASTOR LIBRARY 63 THE LENOX LIBRARY 67 THE TILDEN TRUST 67 CONSOLIDATION 69 NEW YORK FREE CIRCULATING LIBRARY 71 OTHER CIRCULATING LIBRARIES 71 CARNEGIE BRANCHES 71 MANAGEMENT 71 BENEFACTORS 72 WORK OF THE LIBRARY 73 FLOOR PLANS, CENTRAL BUILDING 74 TRUSTEES AND OFFICERS OF THE LIBRARY 76 DIRECTORY OF BRANCH LIBRARIES 77 PUBLICATIONS OF THE LIBRARY 78 THE CROTON RESERVOIR 79 _NOTE_ _Although the purpose of this Handbook is to tell the principal facts about the Library as an institution, its chief use is likely to be that of a guide to the Central Building. The section about the Central Building is therefore given first place. Any visitor who cares to take the trouble, before beginning his tour of the Building, to read the brief historical sketch (on pages 63-73) will have a better understanding of the organization and work of the Library, and see the reasons for a number of things which might not otherwise be clear._ THE CENTRAL BUILDING OPEN: WEEK DAYS, INCLUDING HOLIDAYS, 9 A.M. TO 10 P.M. SUNDAYS, 1 P.M. TO 10 P.M. (Except where otherwise noted these are the hours of the special reading rooms.) THE CENTRAL BUILDING =The Central Building= of The New York Public Library is on the western side of Fifth Avenue, occupying the two blocks between 40th and 42nd Streets. It stands on part of the site of the old Croton distributing reservoir, and it was built by the City of New York at a cost of about nine million dollars. Competitions to choose the architect for the building were held in 1897, two years after The New York Public Library was incorporated. The result of the competition was the selection of Messrs. Carrère and Hastings, of New York, as architects. In 1899 the work of removing the old reservoir began. Various legal difficulties and labor troubles delayed beginning the construction of the building, but by November 10, 1902, the work had progressed so far that the cornerstone was laid. The building was opened to the public May 23, 1911, in the presence of the President of the United States, the Governor of the State of New York, the Mayor of New York, and an audience of about six hundred persons. =Exterior.= The material of the building is largely Vermont marble, and the style that of the modern Renaissance, somewhat in the manner of the period of Louis XVI, with certain modifications to suit the conditions of to-day. It is rectangular in shape, 390 feet long and 270 feet deep, built around two inner courts. It has a cellar, basement or ground floor, and three upper floors. [Illustration: MAIN ENTRANCE] "The Library," wrote Mr. A. C. David, in the _Architectural Record_[1], "is undeniably popular. It has already taken its place in the public mind as a building of which every New Yorker may be proud, and this opinion of the building is shared by the architectural profession of the country. Of course, it does not please everybody; but if American architects in good standing were asked to name the one building which embodied most of what was good in contemporary American architecture, The New York Public Library would be the choice of a handsome majority." Mr. David continued: "The Library is not, then, intended to be a great monumental building, which would look almost as well from one point of view as another, and which would be fundamentally an example of pure architectural form. It is designed rather to face on the avenue of a city, and not to seem out of place on such a site. It is essentially and frankly an instance of street architecture; and as an instance of street architecture it is distinguished in its appearance rather than imposing. Not, indeed, that it is lacking in dignity. The façade on Fifth Avenue has poise, as well as distinction; character, as well as good manners. But still it does not insist upon its own peculiar importance, as every monumental building must do. It is content with a somewhat humbler rôle, but one which is probably more appropriate. It looks ingratiating rather than imposing, and that is probably one reason for its popularity. It is intended for popular rather than for official use, and the building issues to the people an invitation to enter rather than a command.... [Illustration: TERRACE IN FRONT OF LIBRARY LOOKING SOUTH] "The final judgment on the Library will be, consequently, that it is not a great monument, because considerations of architectural form have in several conspicuous instances been deliberately subordinated to the needs of the plan. In this respect it resembles the new Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. The building is at bottom a compromise between two groups of partly antagonistic demands, and a compromise can hardly ever become a consummate example of architectural form. But, on the other hand, Messrs. Carrère and Hastings have, as in so many other cases, made their compromise successful. Faithful as they have been to the fundamental requirement of adapting the building to its purpose as a library, they have also succeeded in making it look well; and they have succeeded in making it look well partly because the design is appropriate to its function as a building in which books are stored, read and distributed. A merely monumental library always appears somewhat forbidding and remote. The Library looks attractive, and so far as a large building can, even intimate.... [Illustration: BY EDWARD C. POTTER] [Illustration: TERRACE LOOKING NORTH] "The popularity of the Library has, consequently, been well earned. The public has reason to like it, because it offers them a smiling countenance; and the welcome it gives is merely the outward and visible sign of an inward grace. When people enter they will find a building which has been ingeniously and carefully adapted to their use. Professional architects like it, because they recognize the skill, the good taste and the abundant resources of which the building, as a whole, is the result; and while many of them doubtless cherish a secret thought that they would have done it better, they are obliged to recognize that in order to have done it better they would have been obliged to exhibit a high degree of architectural intelligence. In the realism of its plan and in the mixture of dignity and distinction in the design, The New York Public Library is typical of that which is best in the contemporary American architectural movement; and New York is fortunate, indeed, that such a statement can be made of the most important public building erected in the city during several generations." [Illustration: ROMANCE BY PAUL BARTLETT] =Sculpture.= Of the sculptural designs, the two lions on either side of the main approach are by E. C. Potter. They have been subjected to much criticism, mainly of a humorous nature, and in the daily press. This adverse comment has not been endorsed by critics of art and architecture. Mr. Potter was chosen for this work by Augustus St. Gaudens, and again, after Mr. St. Gaudens' death, by Mr. D. C. French, also an eminent sculptor. Any layman can satisfy himself, by a brief observation of the building as a whole, that the architectural balance of the structure demands figures of heroic size to flank the main approach. With that requirement in view, the designer of such figures has but a limited choice of subject, since there are few living creatures whose forms possess dignity without being cumbrous. The sculptor in this instance has followed well-established precedents in designing the lions according to the canons of decorative art. They are as realistic as would be suitable for figures of this size, and in this position. [Illustration: PHILOSOPHY BY PAUL BARTLETT] The groups in the pediments are by George Gray Barnard; the one in the northern pediment represents History, and the one in the southern, Art. The figures above the fountains on either side of the main entrance are by Frederick MacMonnies; the man seated on the Sphinx, on the northern side of the entrance represents Truth. On the southern side, the figure of the woman seated on Pegasus represents Beauty. Above the figure of Truth is this inscription from the Apocrypha (1 Esdras, chapter 3): BUT ABOVE ALL THINGS TRUTH BEARETH AWAY THE VICTORY The inscription above the figure of Beauty is: BEAUTY OLD YET EVER NEW ETERNAL VOICE AND INWARD WORD This is from the twenty-first stanza of Whittier's poem, "The Shadow and the Light." The six figures above the main entrance are by Paul Bartlett; naming them from north to south they are: History, Drama, Poetry, Religion, Romance, and Philosophy. Above the entrance are inscriptions concerning three of the component parts of The New York Public Library. They are as follows: THE LENOX LIBRARY FOUNDED BY JAMES LENOX DEDICATED TO HISTORY LITERATURE AND THE FINE ARTS MDCCCLXX THE ASTOR LIBRARY FOUNDED BY JOHN JACOB ASTOR FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE MDCCCXLVIII THE TILDEN TRUST FOUNDED BY SAMUEL JONES TILDEN TO SERVE THE INTERESTS OF SCIENCE AND POPULAR EDUCATION MDCCCLXXXVI Beneath these is this inscription: MDCCCXCV THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY MDCCCCII Of the dates in this inscription, the first, 1895, is that of the incorporation of The New York Public Library; the second, 1902, is that of the laying of the cornerstone. The statue of William Cullen Bryant, behind the Library, is by Herbert Adams. * * * * * =The rear of the building= should be viewed from Bryant Park. The long windows are to light the bookstack. Some critics have commended the rear of the building very highly. Mr. A. C. David, in the article previously quoted, says: "This façade is very plainly treated, without any pretence to architectural effect. It is, indeed, designed frankly as the rear of a structure which is not meant to be looked at except on the other sides. Any attempt, consequently, at monumental treatment has been abandoned. The building is designed to be seen from Fifth Avenue and from the side streets. The rear, on Bryant Park, merely takes care of itself; and one of the largest apartments in any edifice in the United States is practically concealed, so far as any positive exterior result is concerned." [Illustration: A RAINY DAY--FIFTH AVENUE FROM AN ETCHING BY CHARLES B. KING] The large apartment referred to in this quotation is the Main Reading Room of the Library, which is described farther on in this Handbook. FIRST FLOOR =Entrances.= There are two entrances to the Library, the main entrance on Fifth Avenue, and the side door on 42nd Street, which gives admission to the basement, where the Central Circulation Room, the Newspaper Room and the Central Children's Room are to be found. On a first visit, however, the sightseer should use the main entrance on Fifth Avenue, in order to see the lobby, which rises through two stories, with broad staircases to the right and left. The flying arches of these staircases are of seventeen feet span, and are all of marble without any brick or metal work whatever. The marble used in the lobby is from Vermont. The ceiling is a true marble vault of forty feet span, supporting itself and the floor over it, with no metal whatever, except some reinforcing rods buried in the concrete filling in the floor above. [Illustration: TRUTH BY FREDERICK MACMONNIES] Between the pillars facing the entrance are two inscriptions. At the left is this: THE CITY OF NEW YORK HAS ERECTED THIS BUILDING TO BE MAINTAINED FOREVER AS A FREE LIBRARY FOR THE USE OF THE PEOPLE [Illustration: PART OF MAIN FAÇADE] And at the right: ON THE DIFFUSION OF EDUCATION AMONG THE PEOPLE REST THE PRESERVATION AND PERPETUATION OF OUR FREE INSTITUTIONS The latter is a quotation from an address by Daniel Webster at Madison, Indiana, June 1, 1837. =Elevators= are near the northern or 42nd Street end of the building. There is also a staircase at this end of the building, in addition to the staircases near the main entrance. =Exhibition Room.= Directly opposite the main entrance is the Exhibition Room, finished in white Vermont marble. The ceiling is supported by twenty-four columns of green veined white marble. The ceiling itself is elaborately and beautifully carved in oak. This room is devoted to exhibitions of rare books, manuscripts and prints. The exhibitions are changed from time to time, usually as often as three or four times a year. Open 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. on week days; 1 to 5 p. m. Sundays. [Illustration] =Current Periodicals Room.= The corridor to the south from the main entrance leads to the Current Periodicals Room (Room Number 111). Here about 4,500 current periodicals are on file. A hundred of these are on open racks. The others may be obtained upon application at the desk. A classified finding list gives the reader the titles of periodicals kept here. As this room is sometimes confused in the public mind with a popular or club reading room, it should be remembered that this is one department in a building primarily devoted to the reference work of the Library. The few restrictions which are imposed are only for the purpose of keeping the files intact for binding. The Branches of The New York Public Library contain reading rooms where all the periodicals are on open racks. [Illustration: FRONT DOOR] =Business Offices.= Following the corridor leading south and then turning to the right along the 40th Street side of the building, one reaches some of the business offices of the Library--the office of the Bursar (No. 104), of the Building Superintendent (No. 103), of the Chief of the Circulation Department (No. 102), and of the Supervisor of work with children (No. 105). These offices are open for any persons who have occasion to visit them for business reasons, but they are of no interest to sightseers. In Room 100, devoted mainly to the cataloguing work of the Circulation Department, there is a card catalogue of all the books in this Department,--that is, in the Branches of the Library. The Room is open to the public, for the consultation of this catalogue, on week days from 9 a. m. to 5 p. m. [Illustration: BASE OF FLAGPOLE] =Technology Division.= Following the corridor leading to the north from the main entrance, there is, on the right, the room of the Technology Division (No. 115), devoted to applied science and engineering. The collection of books in this Division, or under its control, numbers about 65,000. In this room, as in all the special reading rooms, with a few exceptions, books are on open shelves for the free access of readers and students. =Patents Room= (No. 121). At the end of the corridor parallel to 42nd Street, is the Patents Room, a part of the Technology Division. It is open from 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. on week days, and is closed on Sundays. Patents may be consulted evenings and Sundays by arrangement with the technology librarian, Room 115. [Illustration: NORTH WING] =The Library for the Blind= (No. 116) is on the inner or western side of the corridor leading north from the main entrance. This collection contains about 8,000 books in embossed type for blind readers, and, in addition, 5,500 music scores, also in embossed type. These books are lent not only in Greater New York, but are sent free by mail to blind readers in all parts of the States of New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. A teacher employed by the Library goes to homes and institutions in the City of New York to teach adult blind persons to read by touch. The room is open on week days from 9 a. m. to 5 p. m. A bronze tablet on the wall bears the following inscription: THE NEW YORK FREE CIRCULATING LIBRARY FOR THE BLIND WAS FOUNDED BY RICHARD RANDALL FERRY * * * * * THROUGH THE EXERTIONS OF CLARA A. WILLIAMS THIS LIBRARY WAS PERMANENTLY ESTABLISHED INCORPORATED, JUNE 3, 1895 TRANSFERRED TO THE N. Y. PUBLIC LIBRARY, FEB. 21, 1903 TRUSTEES WILLIAM B. WAIT CLARA A. WILLIAMS CLARK B. FERRY RICHARD RANDALL FERRY CHARLES W. WESTON The trustees named on the tablet are, of course, those of the former organization: the "New York Free Circulating Library for the Blind." SECOND FLOOR On the second floor a corridor runs along the front of the building, turning into short corridors at the north and south, and also into a central corridor. From these corridors open studies, offices and special reading rooms. In the central corridor, four studies open on the right, while the fifth room on this side is devoted to the: =Oriental Division= (No. 219), with a collection of about 20,000 books and pamphlets in Arabic, Persian, Turkish, Chinese, Japanese, and other eastern languages. Open 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. week days. =Jewish Division= (No. 217). Opposite the Oriental Division, on the south side of this central corridor, is the reading room devoted to the Jewish Division. There are about 24,000 books in the collection. =Slavonic Division.= The room devoted to the Slavonic Division (No. 216) is also on the south side of the central corridor. The resources of this Division, books and periodicals in the various Slavonic languages, number about 23,000. [Illustration: REAR OF LIBRARY FROM BRYANT PARK] =Science Division.= On the corridor parallel to Fifth Avenue, and leading north from the main staircase, the room on the right contains the Science Division (No. 225). There are about 35,000 books under the control of this Division. =Economics Division.= From the corridor on the northern or 42nd Street end of the building open the rooms devoted to Public Documents (No. 229) and Economics and Sociology. These were formerly separate divisions, but now united, and the entrance is through Room 229. The resources of the Division (including the large collection of Public Documents) number about 400,000 books and pamphlets. =Business Offices.= The rooms opening from the corridor running south from the main staircase are mostly business offices, devoted to the administration of the Library. They are of little interest to sightseers, but are open to any persons who have occasion to visit them. They include, on the front of the building, a lecture room (No. 213), the office of the Director of the Library (No. 210), and the meeting room of the Board of Trustees (No. 205). On the inner or western side of the corridor are: a study (No. 214), the office of the Editor of Publications (No. 212), and of the Reference Librarian (No. 211). The Trustees' Room may be seen on special application at the Director's office. Over the mantelpiece in this room is the inscription: THE CITY OF NEW YORK HAS ERECTED THIS BUILDING FOR THE FREE USE OF ALL THE PEOPLE MCMX I LOOK TO THE DIFFUSION OF LIGHT AND EDUCATION AS THE RESOURCE MOST TO BE RELIED ON FOR AMELIORATING THE CONDITION PROMOTING THE VIRTUE AND ADVANCING THE HAPPINESS OF MAN THOMAS JEFFERSON [Illustration: MALL BEHIND LIBRARY] On the corridor leading west, and running along the 40th Street end of the building, are workrooms, open only to visitors having business engagements. These rooms are the office of the Order Division (No. 204) and of the Cataloguing and Accessions Divisions (No. 200 and No. 201). [Illustration: SOUTH COURT] THIRD FLOOR The most important room on the third floor and, indeed, the centre of activity of the entire Reference Department of the Library, is the Main Reading Room, approached through the Public Catalogue Room. The latter opens from the western side of the corridor at the head of the staircases. =Public Catalogue Room.= This room (No. 315) contains the catalogue of the books in the Reference Department of the Library,--that is, the books available to readers in the Main Reading Room and in the special reading rooms of the Central Building. It is a dictionary catalogue, on cards, in which the books are entered by author, by subject, and by title, when the title is distinctive. The catalogue is in trays arranged in alphabetical order, beginning on the northwest wall of the room and running to the right. At the end of this catalogue, and on the southern side of the room, is an author catalogue of the books in the Central Circulation Branch and Central Children's Room, Rooms 78 and 80, in the basement. At the end of this second catalogue and separated from it by a public telephone, is a catalogue of the books in the Library of Congress for which printed catalogue cards have been issued. [Illustration: NORTHWEST CORNER] Near the entrance to the Public Catalogue Room, and at the right, is a bronze tablet: BORN A.D. MDCCCXIII (Bas-relief of Sir Isaac Pitman) TABLET ERECTED A.D. MCMXIII TO COMMEMORATE THE ONE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTH OF SIR ISAAC PITMAN AND IN RECOGNITION OF THE IMPORTANT COLLECTION OF SHORTHAND LITERATURE IN THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY Over the door leading from the Public Catalogue Room to the Main Reading Room is inscribed the famous quotation from Milton's "Areopagitica": A good Booke is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalm'd and treasur'd up on purpose to a life beyond life [Illustration: ENTRANCE LOBBY] =Information Desk.= The Information Desk of the Library is in the Public Catalogue Room, and here inquiries should be made about the resources and regulations of the Library, the use of the catalogue, and any other matter upon which the visitor may have a question to ask. =Application for books= to be used in the Main Reading Room should be made in the Public Catalogue Room. The applicant writes his request upon the slip furnished for the purpose, and files it at the desk in this room. A numbered ticket is handed him, which he takes into the Main Reading Room, going to the right if the ticket number is odd; to the left if the number is even. He then waits at the indicator at the western end of the delivery desk until the number on his ticket appears. This means that his books are ready for him at the desk. If, however, he prefers first to select a seat in the Main Reading Room, he should write the number of that seat on his application, and his books will be left at that seat, if he is there to receive them. [Illustration] =The Main Reading Room=, in the rear, extends nearly the entire length of the building. It has a floor area of half an acre, and is divided in the middle by a booth from which books are delivered. There are seats for 768 readers. Mr. A. C. David, in the article previously quoted from the _Architectural Record_, says: "The Main Reading Room is one of the most spacious rooms in the world--beautifully proportioned, lighted by a series of windows on both the long sides of the room, and entirely accessible to the stacks. To have obtained a room of these dimensions, so excellently adapted to its purpose in every respect, was a great triumph for the architects." [Illustration: DOOR OF EXHIBITION ROOM] The shelves along the walls contain a collection of about 25,000 volumes. These books are not only the usual works of reference,--dictionaries, encyclopaedias, and the like, but they also include a good working library of general literature,--philosophy, religion, science, history, law, biography, standard novels, poetry, and the drama. These books are for the free use of anyone in this room, without the need of making any application. The reader has only to select the book he wishes, and to take it to a table, where he may consult it. When he has finished he should leave it on the table, rather than attempt to return it to its place, since a misplaced book is temporarily lost. =The Library's Books.= It should be kept in mind that the books of the Reference Department are all in the Central Building, and must all be used in that building. The great body of them are in the stack beneath the Main Reading Room. In addition, there are the books in the Main Reading Room itself, and in the special reading rooms in other parts of the building. Books and pamphlets number, altogether, about one million and a quarter. [Illustration: ENTRANCE LOBBY, LOOKING WEST] The books in the Central Circulation Room and in the Children's Room in the basement, the books in the Library for the Blind, those in the Travelling Libraries office in the basement, and those in the forty-three Branch Libraries in other parts of the Boroughs of Manhattan, The Bronx, and Richmond are under control of the Circulation Department of the Library. Nearly all of these books are lent to borrowers for home use. They number about 1,100,000 volumes. [Illustration: SOUTH SIDE OF EXHIBITION ROOM] [Illustration: MAIN READING ROOM] In regard to the books in the Reference Department, it is correct to say that in them the Library owns a well-balanced collection for research in nearly every branch of human knowledge. The books formerly in the Astor and Lenox Libraries compose the foundation of the collection. The subjects most adequately represented are those of American history, of topics connected with the American continents, and the economic and social sciences. There are also extensive sets of public documents, of the publications of learned institutions, as well as comprehensive files of periodicals. In recent years not so much attempt has been made to get publications on law, theology, medicine and biology, since there are special libraries, elsewhere in the City, where these subjects are covered. The reader is nevertheless sure to find in the special reading rooms, and in the books which may be brought to the Main Reading Room for his use, the fundamental printed sources in practically every field of knowledge. [Illustration: PANEL IN CEILING, EXHIBITION ROOM] [Illustration: DOOR IN SCREEN MAIN READING ROOM] =Use of Books.= The Library's situation in the metropolis, and its freedom from restrictions (according to the custom of American libraries) have caused the use of its books to become two or three times greater than that of any of the other large libraries of the world; the average daily number of readers is more than double the number in any foreign library. [Illustration] =Stack.= Underneath the Main Reading Room is the steel stack, in seven decks, containing 334,500 feet, or 63.3 miles, of shelving. It has room for about 2,500,000 books. (The special reading rooms have a shelf capacity for about 500,000 books.) The books in the stack are brought by electric elevators to the Main Reading Room, as they are called for by readers. The stack is not open to readers or visitors. =Genealogy Room.= At the northern end of the Main Reading Room is the room devoted to Local History and Genealogy (No. 328). The collection numbers about thirty thousand volumes. [Illustration: PART OF MAIN READING ROOM] =American History Division.= At the southern end of the Main Reading Room is the room devoted to American history (No. 300). It is one of the strongest divisions of the Library, since its books are so distinguished among collections of this kind as to make them of the greatest importance to students and scholars in the field of American history. The foundation of this collection was formed by the books on American history owned by James Lenox, the founder of the Lenox Library, one of the components of the present New York Public Library. The tablet in the floor near the entrance of Room 300 is inscribed as follows: IN MEMORY OF JAMES LENOX A NATIVE AND RESIDENT OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK BORN AUGUST 19 1800 DIED FEBRUARY 17 1880 THE TRUSTEES OF THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY ASTOR LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS IN PERFORMANCE OF A GRATEFUL DUTY HAVE CAUSED THIS TABLET TO BE PLACED HERE AMONG THE BOOKS HE CHERISHED AS A MEMORIAL OF HIS SERVICES TO THE HISTORY OF AMERICA From the corridors on the front and sides of the third floor, rooms open in the following order, beginning with the corridor at the south, running along the 40th Street side of the building: =Reserve Books= (No. 303): In this room are kept the rare and reserved books of the Library. Among the foremost treasures of the Library are: the Gutenberg Bible (printed by Gutenberg and Fust about 1455, one of the earliest books printed from movable types); the Coverdale Bible (1535); Tyndale's Pentateuch (1530) and New Testament (1536); and Eliot's Indian Bible. In fact, the collection of early Bibles in English is one of the great collections of the kind in existence. The Library also owns four copies of the First Folio Shakespeare (1623); several copies of the Second, Third, and Fourth Folios (1632, 1663-64, 1685); thirty-five editions of the Shakespeare Quartos, before 1709; eight works printed by William Caxton (1475-90); the Bay Psalm Book, the first book printed in the territory now comprised in the United States (Cambridge, 1640); and the Doctrina Christiana, printed in Mexico in 1544. [Illustration: BOOK STACK (SHOWING HALF THE LENGTH OF ONE DECK)] One contribution to the Library has been commemorated by a tablet near the door of this room. It bears the inscription: THE BAILEY MYERS COLLECTION OF AMERICANA FORMED BY THEODORUS BAILEY MYERS OF NEW YORK CITY 1821-1888 GIVEN BY HIS WIDOW, DAUGHTER AND DAUGHTER-IN-LAW AS A MEMORIAL OF HIM AND HIS SON THEODORUS BAILEY MYERS MASON LIEUTENANT COMMANDER UNITED STATES NAVY Opposite, in Room 304, is the office of the Bibliographer of the Library, and of the Chief of the American History Division. =Prints Room.= Opening from the corridor on the east (the front) of the Library is the Prints Room (No. 308). Open 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. week days; 1 to 6 p. m. Sundays. Here is the Samuel P. Avery Collection of 18,000 prints. They are mainly French and other modern etchings and lithographs. There is also a large collection of modern American prints, a collection of Japanese prints in color, and a collection of old prints illustrating the development of reproductive graphic art to the present day. =Art and Architecture.= Room 313 is the reading room devoted to Art and Architecture. The resources of the collection, about 25,000 books, deal with art and craftsmanship in the widest sense. [Illustration: TRUSTEES' ROOM] =Map Room.= On the inner, or western, side of this corridor, opposite Room 313, is the Map Room (No. 312), a part of the American History Division. Open 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. on week days. =Stuart Gallery.= Opening from the corridor on the front of the building, and directly opposite the entrance to the Public Catalogue Room, is the room devoted to the Stuart Collection (No. 316). Open 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. on week days. Closed on Sundays. This contains pictures, books, and other objects of art bequeathed by Mrs. Robert L. Stuart. On the east wall of the Gallery is a tablet with this inscription: THE ROBERT L. STUART COLLECTION THE GIFT OF HIS WIDOW, MRS. MARY STUART. BEQUEATHED TO THE LENOX LIBRARY 1892. Catalogues of the paintings are on sale for ten cents. =General Gallery.= The next room to the north is the general gallery (No. 318). (Sign reads "Picture Gallery.") The pictures in this room are largely from the collection of James Lenox. The catalogue, mentioned in the preceding paragraph, gives a list of them, and a brief description of many. Open 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. week days and 1 to 5 p. m. Sundays. =Prints Gallery.= Opening from No. 318, and also from the north end of the front corridor, is the Prints Gallery (No. 321). Here are held exhibitions of prints, changed several times each year. Open 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. on week days and 1 to 5 p. m. Sundays. =Manuscript Division.= On the west or inner side of the front corridor is the research room of the Manuscript Division (No. 319). This is open only to those who hold cards signed by the Director of the Library. Open 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. week days. The Division has a good selection of Oriental manuscripts, and of European illuminated manuscripts. Among these older ones may be mentioned an "Evangelistarium, sive Lectiones ex Evangeliis," a French-Carlovingian manuscript on 200 vellum leaves, date about 870 A. D. Another manuscript of special note is the work of Giulio Clovio, his "Christi Vita ab Evangelistis descripta," sometimes called "The Towneley Lectionary." It was made for Alexander, Cardinal Farnese, and was presented by him to Pope Paul III. [Illustration: ONE OF THE SPECIAL READING ROOMS (GENEALOGY AND LOCAL HISTORY)] The collection of American historical manuscripts ranks as one of the best in the United States. Here, for example, is the original manuscript of Washington's "Farewell Address," a copy of the Declaration of Independence in Jefferson's autograph, and many other letters and original sources for research. Lists of the principal manuscripts have been printed in the Bulletin of The New York Public Library (Volume 5, page 306-336, and volume 19, page 135-162). =Music Division.= Turning to the west, the corridor along the 42nd Street side of the building leads to the Music Division (No. 324), which opens from the north side of the corridor. It is open week days from 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. The resources of the Division number about twenty-two thousand volumes and pieces of music. A tablet at the north end of the room bears this inscription: DREXEL MUSICAL LIBRARY. THE LEGACY OF JOSEPH W. DREXEL 1888. On the east wall is a tablet reading as follows: IN MEMORY OF 1855 JULIAN EDWARDS 1910 WHOSE COLLECTION OF MUSIC SCORES AND BOOKS WAS GIVEN TO THIS LIBRARY BASEMENT The basement contains three rooms of public interest. The entrance from 42nd Street is the most convenient way to reach these rooms from the outside of the building, but a visitor on one of the upper floors should take the elevator or the staircase, both near the north end of the building. [Illustration: CENTRAL CIRCULATION ROOM] =Newspaper Room.= In the Newspaper Room (No. 84) about sixty daily newspapers are on racks for free use, without the need of any application. About twenty-five foreign newspapers are obtainable upon application at the desk. A bulletin board at the right of the entrance gives full information about these and other resources of the Newspaper Room. On the western side of the entrance corridor, near the door of the Circulating Library, is a bronze tablet with the following inscription: [Seal of The New York Public Library] THIS BUILDING IS ERECTED UPON A PART OF THE COMMON LANDS WHICH WERE GRANTED BY ROYAL CHARTER TO THE MAYOR ALDERMEN AND COMMONALTY OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK IN 1686, THE SECOND YEAR OF THE REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND KING OF ENGLAND. THE CITY OF NEW YORK IN 1897, WILLIAM L. STRONG BEING MAYOR, UNDERTOOK TO CONSTRUCT, AT THE PUBLIC EXPENSE, A BUILDING UPON THIS SITE TO BE USED AND OCCUPIED BY THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY, ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS SO LONG AS IT SHOULD MAINTAIN HEREIN A FREE LIBRARY AND READING ROOM FOR THE PEOPLE. WORK WAS BEGUN BY THE CITY IN 1899, ROBERT ANDERSON VAN WYCK BEING MAYOR. THE CORNERSTONE WAS LAID IN 1902, SETH LOW BEING MAYOR. THE BUILDING WAS COMPLETED IN 1909, GEORGE BRINTON McCLELLAN BEING MAYOR. IT WAS OCCUPIED AND OPENED TO THE PUBLIC IN 1911 WILLIAM JAY GAYNOR BEING MAYOR. [Illustration: NORTH STAIRCASE] =Central Circulation Branch= (sign over door reads, "Circulating Library") (No. 80). This is one of the forty-four Branches of The New York Public Library, intended for the circulation of books for home use. In this instance alone the Branch is situated in the Central Building and is supported by the funds of the Library and not by the City. The room is interesting because of its activity. The view of it reproduced in this book had to be taken when but few people were there, but during afternoons and evenings, especially in the autumn, winter, and spring months, the room is frequently over-crowded with readers and borrowers of books. As over 500,000 books were borrowed from this one room during 1915 it may be said that there are few, if any, busier library rooms in the country, or, indeed, in the world. There is a collection of over 50,000 books, with a reserve collection of somewhat more than 70,000. The room is open 9 a. m. to 10 p. m. week days, including all holidays, and 2 to 6 p. m. on Sundays. =Children's Room.= Near the 42nd Street entrance a corridor runs east to the Children's Room (No. 78). The visitor to the building should not fail to see this room, with its attractive furnishings, its collections of brightly colored picture-books, and pictures. The object of the room is not only to perform the usual work of a children's room, but also to interest and help parents and others in selecting children's reading. Authors, artists, and publishers come here for information about books for children. Another purpose is to furnish suggestions for similar rooms elsewhere. A number of libraries, in other parts of the world, have adopted suggestions which they found here. Exhibitions on various subjects are held from time to time, and there is a collection of children's books of the old-fashioned kind. Open 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. week days. [Illustration: CHILDREN'S ROOM] =Library School.= Here a two years' course in training for library work is given to a body of students averaging about seventy-five in number. The office of the School (where inquiries should be made) is in Room 75, on the inner or western side of the corridor which runs along the front of the building, parallel to Fifth Avenue. The Library School class room, not open to the public, is on the other side of the corridor. =Public Telephones.= The public telephones are in Room 70, on the inner or western side of the front corridor. =Business Offices.= The rest of the basement floor is occupied by offices, open only to those who have business engagements therein. The offices include that for Printing and Binding (No. 58), and the Shipping Room (No. 51). In the Printing Office the catalogue cards of the Library, printed forms, and all the Library's publications are printed. For the publications, see page 78. =Travelling Libraries Office.= The entrance to the Travelling Libraries office is from Bryant Park, at the southwest corner of the building. The office itself is not of interest to sightseers. As it is under control of the Circulation Department, its work is described on page 59. FOOTNOTE: [Footnote 1: September, 1910.] [Illustration] THE CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT BRANCH LIBRARIES--HOURS OF OPENING: CENTRAL CIRCULATION open 9 a. m. to 10 p. m. every week day, 2 to 6 p. m. on Sundays. CHILDREN'S ROOM 9 a. m. to 6 p. m. on week days. LIBRARY FOR THE BLIND, TRAVELLING LIBRARIES, and OFFICES open 9 a. m. to 5 p. m. on week days. OTHER BRANCHES, 9 a. m. to 9 p. m. on week days. Exceptions as follows: CENTRAL CIRCULATION and branches in Carnegie buildings open full hours on all holidays; other branches closed on January 1, May 30, July 4, December 25, presidential election day, and Thanksgiving; after 6 p. m. on February 22 and Christmas eve; after 5 p. m. on election days other than presidential elections. CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT The Circulation Department of the Library performs its work through forty-four Branch Libraries in the Boroughs of Manhattan, Richmond (Staten Island), and The Bronx. (Each of the other two Boroughs of Greater New York, Brooklyn and Queens, has its own Public Library.) These Branches are in separate buildings, with the exception of the Circulation Branch in the Central Building. That is supported by the funds of the Library; all the others are maintained by the City. Thirty-seven of the Branch buildings were erected from funds given by Mr. Andrew Carnegie. The collections of books in the Branches number from ten to fifty thousand, with a total of about 1,100,000 books. Each Branch has an adult department, with its collection of books for adult readers, a children's room, and a reading room with current magazines, reference books, and, in many cases, daily newspapers. Many of the Branches contain lecture or assembly rooms. These Branch Libraries serve a population estimated at above three million. The Branches are spread over a large territory, and from the northernmost of them, in the Borough of The Bronx, to the one farthest south, on Staten Island, the distance is about forty miles. A directory of Branches is on page 77. =Circulation of Books.= The New York Public Library, according to the general custom of American libraries, imposes few restrictions upon its readers. This fact, together with its situation in the metropolis of the country, is the reason why it is probably used more than any other library under one management in the world. The use is constantly growing. In 1915 there were borrowed from the Branch Libraries, for home use, 10,384,579 books. [Illustration: SEWARD PARK BRANCH] =Special Collections.= There are books in foreign languages, especially French and German, in all the Branches. The principal collections of books in foreign tongues other than French and German, are these: _Language Branch_ Bohemian Webster. Chinese Chatham Square. Danish Tottenville, 125th Street. Dutch Muhlenberg. Finnish 125th Street. Flemish Muhlenberg. Greek (Modern) Chatham Square. Hebrew Seward Park, Aguilar. Hungarian Tompkins Square, Hamilton Fish Park, Yorkville, Woodstock. Italian Hudson Park, Aguilar, Bond Street. Norwegian Tottenville. Polish Rivington Street, Tompkins Square, Columbus, Melrose. Roumanian Rivington Street. Russian Seward Park, Rivington Street, Hamilton Fish Park, 96th Street, Chatham Square. Slovak Webster. Spanish Jackson Square. Swedish 125th Street, 58th Street. Servian Muhlenberg. Yiddish Rivington Street, Seward Park, Hamilton Fish Park, Aguilar, Tremont. =Interbranch Loan.= A book in any one of the Branches is available to a reader at any other Branch through a system of interbranch loans. =Reading Rooms.= The total attendance in the adult reading rooms in the Branch Libraries, during 1915, was 1,224,526. The greatest use of reading rooms is at two of the Branches on the lower East Side. [Illustration: ADULTS' ROOM--58th STREET BRANCH] =Library for the Blind.= The Library for the Blind, although under control of the Circulation Department, has its headquarters and reading room in the Central Building. Its work has been described on page 22. [Illustration: MOTT HAVEN BRANCH] =Travelling Libraries.= From the office of the Travelling Libraries, in the Central Building, collections of books are sent to communities and homes in outlying districts of the city; to churches, Sunday schools, settlements, clubs, stores, factories,--in fact, to any community or institution not readily served by a Branch Library. There are about 800 stations with Travelling Libraries. The circulation through these agencies, in 1915, numbered 962,355 books. Travelling Library stations are established in mercantile houses, in Fire and Police stations, fire boats, Federal, State, and City Department offices, armories, ships of the coast guard, vacation playgrounds, and summer camps. Books are sent in this manner to prisons, workhouses, elementary and high schools, hospitals, and army posts in New York City. [Illustration: BOND STREET BRANCH (THE OLDEST BRANCH)] [Illustration: TRAVELLING LIBRARY IN A MERCANTILE HOUSE] =Work with Children.= The work with children comprises a great deal besides the maintenance of children's rooms and the circulation of children's books. In 1915, the total circulation of books to children, including the figures recorded by the juvenile work of the Travelling Libraries, was 4,415,794, or forty-two per cent. of the total circulation of the Library. The Library works with the schools and museums. It holds special exhibitions, meetings, and celebrations of interest to children and to parents. Between fifty and sixty reading clubs for the older boys and girls meet at the Branch Libraries. Groups of children gather in the Branches from November to May, to attend "story hours." =Lectures and meetings.= The Branches are used as meeting places by literary, educational and social organizations and clubs. Assembly rooms in the Branches are open for any meeting of an instructive or literary nature, provided that no admission fee is charged, and that nothing of a political or sectarian character is discussed. Many classes of foreigners learning English meet regularly in the Branch Libraries. [Illustration: AT A STORY HOUR] HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE LIBRARY The New York Public Library, as it exists to-day, is the result of the generosity of a few private citizens, combined with the efforts of the City itself. Its corporate existence, in its present form, began on May 23, 1895, by the consolidation of: "The Trustees of the Astor Library," "The Trustees of the Lenox Library," and "The Tilden Trust." [Illustration: LIBRARY'S INSTRUCTOR TEACHING THE BLIND TO READ] [Illustration: READING WITH THE FINGERS IN THE LIBRARY FOR THE BLIND] =The Astor Library=, originally incorporated in 1849, was founded by John Jacob Astor. His gifts, together with those of his sons and grandsons, amounted to about $1,700,000. Washington Irving was the first President of the Library, and Joseph Green Cogswell its first Superintendent, or Librarian. In its building on Lafayette Place (now Lafayette Street) it was for many years one of the literary landmarks of New York. At the time of its consolidation with The New York Public Library it had an endowment fund of about $941,000, which produced an annual income of about $47,000. It contained then 266,147 volumes. It was solely a reference library,--the funds were given with the understanding that the books should not be lent for use outside the building. [Illustration: SUMMER AFTERNOON STORY HOUR] [Illustration: CORNER OF CHILDREN'S READING ROOM, HARLEM LIBRARY BRANCH] =The Lenox Library.= James Lenox, one of America's greatest book collectors, was born in New York City in 1800 and died there in 1880. In 1870, by the incorporation of the Lenox Library, he gave to the city of his birth his books and art treasures. The building, which formerly stood on Fifth Avenue between 70th and 71st Streets, was erected for the Library and opened to the public, a part at a time, beginning in 1876. At the time of consolidation the Library owned its building, an endowment fund of $505,500, which yielded an annual income of about $20,500; and about 86,000 volumes. This also was a reference library, not a circulating library. [Illustration: VISIT OF A CLASS FROM A PUBLIC SCHOOL] =The Tilden Trust.= Samuel Jones Tilden was born in New Lebanon, New York, in 1814. He died in New York City in 1886. By the final settlement of his estate the City received his private library and an endowment fund of about $2,000,000, for library purposes. [Illustration: TRAVELLING LIBRARY IN A FACTORY] =Consolidation.= In the agreement for consolidation it was provided that the name of the new corporation should be "The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations"; that the number of its trustees should be twenty-one, to be selected from the thirty-three members of the separate boards; and that "the said new corporation shall establish and maintain a free public library and reading room in the City of New York, with such branches as may be deemed advisable, and shall continue and promote the several objects and purposes set forth in the respective acts of incorporation of 'The Trustees of the Astor Library,' 'The Trustees of the Lenox Library,' and 'The Tilden Trust.'" [Illustration: TRAVELLING LIBRARY IN FIRE-ENGINE HOUSE] [Illustration: ROOF READING ROOM, SEWARD PARK BRANCH] Later, another member was added to the Board of Trustees, and three municipal officials were made members _ex officio_. The first Director of The New York Public Library was Dr. John Shaw Billings, who served from 1896 until his death in 1913. He rendered distinguished services, especially in the organization of the new Library and in the arrangement of the Central Building. =New York Free Circulating Library.= In 1901 the New York Free Circulating Library was consolidated with the new system. This Library had then eleven Branches and owned about 160,000 volumes. =Other Circulating Libraries.= In 1901, the St. Agnes Free Library and the Washington Heights Free Library were also added to the system. The New York Free Circulating Library for the Blind and the Aguilar Free Library, with four Branches, were added in 1903. In 1904, the Harlem Free Library, Tottenville Free Library, the University Settlement Library at Rivington and Eldridge Streets, and the Webster Free Library followed. Also in 1904 the five Branches of the Cathedral Free Circulating Library became part of the new corporation. =Carnegie Branches.= In 1901 Mr. Andrew Carnegie offered Greater New York $5,200,000 for the construction and equipment of free circulating libraries, on condition that the City provide the land and agree to maintain the libraries when built. The offer was accepted, and thirty-seven Branch Libraries are now housed in buildings erected with that part of Mr. Carnegie's gift assigned to The New York Public Library. A directory of all the Branch Libraries may be found on page 77. =Management.= The corporation is managed by a Board of twenty-five Trustees, including the Mayor, Comptroller, and President of the Board of Aldermen _ex officio_. The names of the Trustees are given on page 76. The Trustees hold office continuously, and vacancies are filled by vote of the remaining Trustees. No Trustee receives any compensation for his services. The immediate management of the Library is entrusted to the Director. The Staff numbers between twelve and thirteen hundred persons, including those in the Central Building and in the Branches. As the buildings are open between twelve and thirteen hours a day the Staff works in two shifts. Somewhat less than half of the Staff are employed in the Central Building. [Illustration: BOYS' CLUB; YORKVILLE BRANCH] =Benefactors.= A complete list of the Library's benefactors, besides the three founders, can more appropriately be given elsewhere. In addition to Mr. Carnegie's gift, one bequest should be noted here: that of John S. Kennedy, who in 1909 left about $3,000,000 to the Library, without conditions. =Work of the Library.= This historical sketch may help to make clear the organization and work of the Library as it is carried on to-day. It is a free reference library combined with a free circulating library. The books in the Reference Department (in the Central Building) which came from either the Astor or the Lenox Libraries, and those which have been added since the consolidation, from the endowments of those Libraries, must necessarily be for reference use only. The Astor and Lenox Foundations give the Trustees of The New York Public Library no option in this matter. About one million books in the Circulation Department (the Branch Libraries) are lent for home use. [Illustration: KINGSBRIDGE BRANCH] [Illustration: FLOOR PLANS, CENTRAL BUILDING] [Illustration: FLOOR PLANS, CENTRAL BUILDING] TRUSTEES AND OFFICERS OF THE LIBRARY WILLIAM W. APPLETON ANDREW CARNEGIE CLEVELAND H. DODGE JOHN MURPHY FARLEY SAMUEL GREENBAUM FREDERIC R. HALSEY JOHN HENRY HAMMOND LEWIS CASS LEDYARD J. P. MORGAN MORGAN J. O'BRIEN STEPHEN H. OLIN HENRY FAIRFIELD OSBORN WILLIAM BARCLAY PARSONS GEORGE L. RIVES ELIHU ROOT CHARLES HOWLAND RUSSELL EDWARD W. SHELDON GEORGE W. SMITH I. N. PHELPS STOKES FREDERICK STURGES HENRY W. TAFT PAYNE WHITNEY JOHN PURROY MITCHEL, Mayor of the City of New York, _ex officio_ WILLIAM A. PRENDERGAST, Comptroller of the City of New York, _ex officio_ FRANK L. DOWLING, President of the Board of Aldermen, _ex officio_ OFFICERS _President_, GEORGE L. RIVES _First Vice-President_, LEWIS CASS LEDYARD _Second Vice-President_, ELIHU ROOT _Secretary_, CHARLES HOWLAND RUSSELL _Treasurer_, EDWARD W. SHELDON _Director of the Library_, EDWIN H. ANDERSON _Chief Reference Librarian_, H. M. LYDENBERG _Chief of the Circulation Department_, BENJAMIN ADAMS BRANCH LIBRARIES With the exception of the Central Building, the names of the Branches in Manhattan and The Bronx are arranged as they are situated, from south to north. Names marked with a star (*) are of Branches occupying Carnegie buildings. MANHATTAN CENTRAL BUILDING. Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street CENTRAL CIRCULATION CHILDREN'S ROOM LIBRARY FOR THE BLIND TRAVELLING LIBRARIES CHATHAM SQUARE.* 33 East Broadway SEWARD PARK.* 192 East Broadway RIVINGTON STREET,* 61 HAMILTON FISH PARK.* 388 East Houston Street HUDSON PARK.* 66 Leroy Street BOND STREET, 49. Near the Bowery OTTENDORFER. 135 Second Avenue. Near 8th Street TOMPKINS SQUARE.* 331 East 10th Street JACKSON SQUARE. 251 West 13th Street EPIPHANY.* 228 East 23rd Street MUHLENBERG.* 209 West 23rd Street ST. GABRIEL'S PARK.* 303 East 36th Street 40TH STREET,* 457 West CATHEDRAL. 123 East 50th Street COLUMBUS.* 742 Tenth Avenue. Near 51st Street 58TH STREET,* 121 East 67TH STREET,* 328 East RIVERSIDE.* 190 Amsterdam Avenue. Near 69th Street WEBSTER.* 1465 Avenue A. Near 78th Street YORKVILLE.* 222 East 79th Street ST. AGNES.* 444 Amsterdam Avenue. Near 81st Street 96TH STREET,* 112 East BLOOMINGDALE. 206 West 100th Street AGUILAR.* 174 East 110th Street 115TH STREET,* 203 West HARLEM LIBRARY.* 9 West 124th Street 125TH STREET,* 224 East GEORGE BRUCE. 78 Manhattan Street 135TH STREET,* 103 West HAMILTON GRANGE.* 503 West 145th Street WASHINGTON HEIGHTS.* 1000 St. Nicholas Ave. Cor. of 160th St. FORT WASHINGTON.* 535 West 179th Street THE BRONX MOTT HAVEN.* 321 East 140th Street WOODSTOCK.* 759 East 160th Street MELROSE.* 910 Morris Avenue. Corner of 162nd Street. HIGH BRIDGE.* 78 West 168th Street MORRISANIA.* 610 East 169th Street TREMONT.* 1866 Washington Avenue. Corner of 176th Street KINGSBRIDGE.* 3041 Kingsbridge Avenue. Near 230th Street RICHMOND (STATEN ISLAND) ST. GEORGE.* 5 Central Avenue. Tompkinsville P. O. PORT RICHMOND.* 75 Bennett Street STAPLETON.* 132 Canal Street TOTTENVILLE.* 7430 Amboy Road PUBLICATIONS OF THE LIBRARY A reader of this Handbook may wish to know about some other sources of information concerning the Library. For that reason a few of its publications are named here. They may be consulted in the Central Building or any of the Branches. =Annual Report= of The New York Public Library. (A limited number are sent to institutions or private persons upon request.) =Bulletin= of The New York Public Library. Published monthly. Chiefly devoted to the Reference Department. Bibliography, news of the Library, reprints of manuscripts, descriptions of new accessions. One dollar a year; current single numbers for ten cents. Back numbers at advanced rates. =Branch Library News.= Monthly publication of the Circulation Department. Lists of new books, reading lists, articles about books, etc. Given free at the Branches. By mail free to libraries and other public institutions. Otherwise, twenty-five cents a year. =Facts for the Public.= A small pamphlet of general information about the Library. Much of its contents is also contained in this Handbook. Given free. =Central Building Guide.= A small pamphlet. Price five cents. THE CROTON RESERVOIR As the Central Building of the Library stands on part of the site of the old Croton Reservoir, it is fitting to reprint here the inscriptions on two tablets which were formerly affixed to the Reservoir. One tablet is now on the first floor of the Central Building, on the wall of the south or 40th Street corridor. The inscription is: HISTORICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE ACCOUNT OF THE CROTON AQUEDUCT The Law authorizing the construction of the work, passed May 2nd, 1834. STEPHEN ALLEN, WILLIAM W. FOX, SAUL ALLEY, CHARLES DUSENBERRY and BENJAMIN M. BROWN were appointed _Commissioners_. During the year 1834, two surveys were made--one by DAVID B. DOUGLASS and the other by JOHN MARTINEAU. In April, 1835, a majority of the Electors of the City voted in favour of constructing the Aqueduct. On the 7th May following, the _Common Council_ "instructed the Commissioners to proceed with the work." DAVID B. DOUGLASS was employed as _Chief Engineer_ until October, 1836; when he was succeeded by JOHN B. JERVIS. In March, 1837, BENJAMIN M. BROWN resigned, and was succeeded by THOMAS T. WOODRUFF. In March, 1840, the before mentioned Commissioners were succeeded by SAMUEL STEVENS, JOHN D. WARD, ZEBEDEE RING, BENJAMIN BIRDSALL and SAMUEL R. CHILDS. The work was commenced in May, 1837. On the 22nd June, 1842, the Aqueduct was so far completed that it received the Water from the Croton River Lake; on the 27th the Water entered the Receiving Reservoir and was admitted into this Reservoir on the succeeding 4th of July. The DAM at the Croton River is 40 feet high, and the overfall 251 feet in length. The CROTON RIVER LAKE is five miles long, and covers an area of 400 acres. The AQUEDUCT, from the DAM to this Reservoir, is 40-1/2 miles long, and will deliver in twenty-four hours 60,000,000 imperial gallons. The capacity of the Receiving Reservoir is 150,000,000 gallons, and of this reservoir 20,000,000. The cost, to and including this Reservoir, nearly $9,000,000. * * * * * In the pavement of the south court is a tablet with this inscription: CROTON AQUEDUCT. DISTRIBUTING RESERVOIR. COMMISSIONERS. SAMUEL STEVENS ZEBEDEE RING JOHN D. WARD BENJ^n BIRDSALL SAMUEL R. CHILDS ENGINEERS. JOHN B. JERVIS. CHIEF. H^o ALLEN, PRIN^l ASSIST. P. HASTIE, RESIDENT. BUILDERS. THOMSON PRICE & SON. COMMENCED A. D. MDCCCXXXVIII. COMPLETED A. D. MDCCCXLII. TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND COPIES OF THIS FIRST EDITION OF THE HANDBOOK WERE PRINTED AT THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY IN JUNE 1916 
16224	----	images generously made available by gallica (Bibliothèque nationale de France) at http://gallica.bnf.fr. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL Antiquarian AND PICTURESQUE TOUR. PRINTED BY WILLIAM NICOL, AT THE Shakespeare Press. [Illustration: T. F. DIBDIN, D.D. Engraved by James Thomson from the Original Painting by T. Phillips Esq. R.A. London. Published June 1829 by R. Jennings, Poultry.] A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL Antiquarian AND PICTURESQUE TOUR IN FRANCE AND GERMANY. BY THE REVEREND THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN, D.D. MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY AT ROUEN, AND OF THE ACADEMY OF UTRECHT. SECOND EDITION. VOLUME I. LONDON: PUBLISHED BY ROBERT JENNINGS, AND JOHN MAJOR. 1829. TO THE REVEREND JOHN LODGE, M.A. FELLOW OF MAGDALEN COLLEGE, AND LIBRARIAN TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE. MY DEAR FRIEND, Most grateful it is to me, at all times, to bear in remembrance those pleasant discussions in which we were wont so frequently to indulge, relating to the LIBRARIES upon the Continent:--but more than ordinarily gratifying to me was _that_ moment, when you told me, that, on crossing the Rhine, you took the third volume of my Tour under your arm, and on reaching the Monasteries of Mölk and Göttwic, gave an off-hand translation to the venerable Benedictine Inmates of what I had recorded concerning their MSS. and Printed Books, and their hospitable reception of the Author. I studiously concealed from You, at the time, the whole of the gratification which that intelligence imparted; resolving however that, should this work be deemed worthy of a second edition, to dedicate that republication to YOURSELF. Accordingly, it now comes forth in its present form, much enhanced, in the estimation of its Author, by the respectability of the name prefixed to this Dedication; and wishing you many years enjoyment of the honourable public situation with which you have been recently, and so deservedly, invested, allow me to subscribe myself, Your affectionate and obliged Friend, T.F. DIBDIN. Wyndham Place, June 30, 1829. CONTENTS OF VOLUME I. CONTENTS. VOLUME I. LETTER I. _Passage to Dieppe_ LETTER II. DIEPPE. _Fisheries. Streets. Churches of St. Jacques and St. Remy. Divine Worship. Military Mass_ LETTER III. _Village and Castle of Arques. Sabbath Amusements. Manners and Customs. Boulevards_ LETTER IV. ROUEN. _Approach. Boulevards. Population. Street-Scenery_ LETTER V. _Ecclesiastical Architecture. Cathedral. Monuments. Religious Ceremonies. The Abbey of St. Ouen. The Churches of St. Maclou, St. Vincent, St. Vivien, St. Gervais, and St. Paul_ LETTER VI. _Halles de Commerce. Place de la Pucelle d'Orleans. (Jeanne d'Arc). Basso-Rilievo of the Champ de Drap d'Or. Palace and Courts of Justice_ LETTER VII. ROUEN. _The Quays. Bridge of Boats. Rue du Bac. Rue de Robec. Eaux de Robec et d'Aubette. Mont Ste. Catherine. Hospices--Générale et d'Humanité_, LETTER VIII. _Early Typography at Rouen. Modern Printers. Chap Books. Booksellers. Book Collectors_ LETTER IX. _Departure from Rouen. St. George de Boscherville. Duclair. Marivaux. The Abbey of Jumieges. Arrival at Caudebec_, LETTER X. _Caudebec. Lillebonne. Bolbec. Tankarville. Montmorenci Castle. Havre de Grace_ LETTER XI. _Havre de Grace. Honfleur. Journey to Caen_ LETTER XII. CAEN. _Soil. Society. Education. A Duel. Old houses. The Abbey of St. Stephen. Church of St. Pierre de Darnetal. Abbé de la Sainte Trinité. Other Public Edifices_ LETTER XIII. CAEN. _Literary Society. Abbé de la Rue. Messrs. Pierre-Aimé. Lair and Lamouroux. Medal of Malherbe. Booksellers. Memoir of the late M. Moysant, Public Librarian. Courts of Justice_ LETTER XIV. BAYEUX. _Cathedral. Ordination of Priests and Deacons. Crypt of the Cathedral_ LETTER XV. BAYEUX. _Visit near St. Loup. M. Pluquet, Apothecary and Book-Vendor. Visit to the Bishop. The Chapter Library. Description of the Bayeux Tapestry. Trade and Manufacture_ LETTER XVI. _Bayeux to Coutances. St. Lo. The Cathedral of Coutances. Environs. Aqueduct. Market-Day. Public Library. Establishment for the Clergy_ LETTER XVII. _Journey to Granville. Granville. Ville Dieu. St. Sever. Town and Castle of_ VIRE LETTER XVIII. VIRE. _Bibliography. Monsieur Adam. Monsieur de la Renaudiere. Olivier Basselin. M. Séguin. The Public Library_ LETTER XIX. _Departure from Vire. Condé. Pont Ouilly. Arrival at_ FALAISE. _Hotel of the Grand Turc. Castle of Falaise. Bibliomaniacal Interview_ LETTER XX. _Mons. Mouton. Church of Ste. Trinité, Comte de la Fresnaye. Guibray Church. Supposed head of William the Conqueror. M. Langevin, Historian of Falaise. Printing Offices_ LETTER XXI. _Journey to Paris. Dreux. Houdan. Versailles. Entrance into Paris_ LIST OF PLATES. VOL. I. Portrait of the Author Fille de Chambre, Caen Portrait of the Abbé de la Rue VOL. II. Anne of Brittany Medal of Louis XII Pisani Denon Comte de Brienne Stone Pulpit, Strasbourg Cathedral VOL. III. Fille de Chambre, Manheim Monastery of Saints Ulric and Afra Prater, Vienna LIST OF AUTOGRAPHS. Vol. Page. Artaria, Dom. Manheim iii. 470 Barbier, Antoine Alexandre; Paris ii. 204 Bartsch, Adam de; Vienna iii. 394 Beyschlag, Recteur; Augsbourg iii. 104 Brial, Dom; Paris ii. 254 Brunet, Libraire; Paris ii. 235 Bure, De, Freres; Paris ii. 220 Chateaugiron, Marquis de; Paris i. xxxviii Dannecker; Stuttgart iii. 54 Denon; Paris ii. 293 Gaertner, Corbinian; Salzburg iii. 201 Gail; Paris ii. 259 Hartenschneider, Udalricus; Chremsminster Monastery iii. 229 Henri II. ii. 151 Hess, C.E.; Munich iii. 165 Lamouroux; Caen i. 137 Lançon, Durand de; Paris i. xxxviii Langevin; Falaise i. 341 Langlès, L.; Paris ii. 268 Larenaudiere, De; Vire i. 309 Lebret, F.C.; Stuttgart iii. 56 May, Jean Gottlob; Augsbourg iii. 104 Millin, A.L.; Paris ii. 264 Pallas, Joachim; Mölk Monastery iii. 254 Peignot, Gabriel; Dijon i. xxvii Poitiers, Diane de ii. 151 Renouard, Ant. Aug.; Paris ii. 227 Schlichtegroll, Frederic; Munich iii. 161 Schweighæuser, Fils; Strasbourg ii. 426 Van Praet; Paris ii. 278 Veesenmeyer, G.; Ulm iii. 71 Willemin; Paris ii. 320 Young,.T.; Vienna iii. 390 PREFACE. PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. If I had chosen to introduce myself to the greatest possible advantage to the reader, in this Preface to a Second Edition of the "_Bibliographical, Antiquarian, and Picturesque Tour_," I could not have done better than have borrowed the language of those Foreigners, who, by a translation of the Work (however occasionally vituperative their criticisms) have, in fact, conferred an honour upon its Author. In the midst of censure, sometimes dictated by spite, and sometimes sharpened by acrimony of feeling, it were in my power to select passages of commendation, which would not less surprise the Reader than they have done myself: while the history of this performance may be said to exhibit the singular phenomenon, of a traveller, usually lauding the countries through which he passes, receiving in return the reluctant approbation of those whose institutions, manners, and customs, have been praised by him. It is admitted, by the most sedulous and systematic of my opponents--M. CRAPELET--that "considering the quantity and quality of the ornaments and engravings of this Tour, one is surprised that its cost is so moderate."[1] "Few books (says the Bibliographer of Dijon) have been executed with greater luxury. It is said that the expenses of printing and engraving amounted to 6000 l.--to nearly 140,000 franks of our money. It must be admitted that England is the only country in which such an undertaking could be carried into effect. Who in France would dare to risk such a sum--especially for three, volumes in octavo? He would be ruined, if he did."[2] I quote these passages simply to shew under what extraordinary obliquity of feeling those gentlemen must have set down to the task of translation and abuse--of THAT VERY WORK, which is here admitted to contain such splendid representations of the "bibliographical, antiquarian, and picturesque" beauties of their country. A brief account of this foreign _travail_ may be acceptable to the curious in literary history. MONS. LICQUET, the successor of M. Gourdin, as Chief Librarian to the Public Library at Rouen, led the way in the work of warfare. He translated the ninth Letter relating to that Public Library; of which translation especial mention is made at p. 99, post. This version was printed in 1821, for private, distribution; and only 100 copies were struck off. M. Crapelet, in whose office it was printed, felt the embers of discontent rekindled in his bosom as it passed through his press; and in the following year HE also stepped forward to discharge an arrow at the Traveller. Like his predecessor, he printed but a limited number; and as I have more particularly remarked upon the spirit of that version by way of "Introduction" to the original letter, in vol. ii. 209, &c. I shall not waste the time of the Reader by any notice of it in the present place. These two partial translators united their forces, about two years afterwards, and published the whole of the Tour, as it related to FRANCE, in four octavo volumes, in 1825. The ordinary copies were sold for 48 francs, the large paper for 112 francs per copy. The wood-cuts only were republished by them. Of this conjoint, and more enlarged production, presently. Encouraged by the examples of Messrs. Licquet and Crapelet, a Bookbinder of the name of LESNÉ (whose poem upon his "Craft," published in 1820, had been copiously quoted and _commended_ by me in the previous edition) chose to plant his foot within this arena of controversy; and to address a letter to me; to which his model, M. Crapelet, was too happy to give circulation through the medium of his press.[3] To that letter the following metrical lines are prefixed; which the Reader would scarcely forgive me if I failed to amuse him by their introduction in this place. "_Lesné, Relieur Français, à Mons. T.F. Dibdin, Ministre de la Religion, &c._" Avec un ris moqueur, je crois vous voir d'ici, Dédaigneusement dire: Eh, que veut celui-ci? Qu'ai-je donc de commun avec un vil artiste? Un ouvrier français, un _Bibliopégiste_? Ose-t-on ravaler un Ministre à ce point? Que me veut ce _Lesné_? Je ne le connais point. Je crois me souvenir qu'à mon voyage en France, Avec ses pauvres vers je nouai connaissance. Mais c'est si peu de chose un poète à Paris! Savez-vous bien, Monsieur, pourquoi je vous écris? C'est que je crois avoir le droit de vous écrire. Fussiez-vous cent fois plus qu'on ne saurait le dire, Je vois dans un Ministre un homme tel que moi; Devant Dieu je crois même être l'égal d'un roi. The Letter however is in prose, with some very few exceptions; and it is just possible that the indulgent Reader may endure a specimen or two of the prose of M. Lesné, as readily as he has that of his poetry. These specimens are equally delectable, of their kind. Immediately after the preceding poetical burst, the French Bibliopegist continues thus: D'après cet exorde, vous pensez sans doute que, bien convaincu de ma dignité d'homme, je me crois en droit de vous dire franchement ma façon de penser; je vous la dirai, Monsieur. Si vous dirigiez un journal bibliographique; que vous fissiez, en un mot, le métier de journaliste, je serai peu surpris de voir dans votre Trentième Lettre, une foule de choses hasardées, de mauvais calembourgs, de grossièretés, que nous ne rencontrons même pas chez nos journalistes du dernier ordre, en ce qu'ils savent mieux leur monde, et que s'ils lancent une epigramme, fût-elle fausse, elle est au moins finement tournée. Mais vous êtes ANGLAIS, et par cela seul dispensé sans doute de cette politesse qui distingue si heureusement notre nation de la vôtre, et que vos compatriotes n'acquièrent pour la plupart qu'après un long séjour en France." p. 6. Towards the latter part of this most formidable "Tentamen Criticum," the irritable author breaks out thus--"C'est une maladie Française de vouloir toujours imiter les Anglais; ceux-ci, à leur tour, commencent à en être atteints." p. 19. A little farther it is thus: "Enfin c'est _en imitant_ qu'on reussit presque toujours mal; vous en êtes encore, une preuve évidente. J'ai vu en beaucoup d'endroits de votre Lettre, que vous avez voulu imiter _Sterne_;[4] qu'est-il arrivé? Vous êtes resté au-dessous de lui, comme tous les Imitateurs de nôtre bon La Fontaine sont restés en deçà de l'immortel Fabuliste." p. 20. But most especially does the sensitive M. Lesné betray his surprise and apprehension, on a gratuitous supposition--thrown out by me, by way of pleasantry--that "Mr. Charles Lewis was going over to Paris, to establish there a modern School of Bookbinding." M. Lesné thus wrathfully dilates upon this supposition: "Je me garderai bien de passer sous silence la dernière partie de votre Lettre; _un bruit assez étrange est venu jusqu'à vous_; et Charles Lewis doit vous quitter pour quelque temps pour établir en France une école de reliure d'apres les principes du gôut anglais; mais vous croyez, dites-vous, que ce projet est sûrement chimérique, ou que, si on le tentait, il serait de courte durée. Pour cette fois, Monsieur, votre pronostic serait très juste; cette demarche serait une folie: il faudrait s'abuser sur l'engouement des amateurs français, et ceux qui sont atteints de cette maladie ne sont pas en assez grand nombre pour soutenir un pareil établissement. Oui, l'on aime votre genre de reliure; mais on aime les reliures, façon anglaise, faites par les Français. Pensez-vous done, ou Charles Lewis pense-t-il, qu'il n'y ait plus d'esprit national en France? Allez, le sang Française coule encore dans nos veines; Nous pourrons éprouver des malheurs et des peines, Que nous devrons peut être à vous autres Anglais; Mais nous voulons rester, nous resterons, Français! Ainsi, que Charles Lewis ne se dérange pas; qu'il cesse, s'il les a commencés, les préparatifs de sa descente; qu'il ne prive pas ses compatriotes d'un artiste soi-disant inimitable. Nous en avons ici qui le valent, et qui se feront un plaisir de perpéteur parmi nous le bon gôut, l'élégance, et la noble simplicité. p. 25.[5] So much for M. Lesne. I have briefly noticed M. Peignot, the Bibliographer of Dijon. That worthy wight has made the versions of my Ninth and Thirtieth Letters (First Edition) by M.M. Licquet and Crapelet, the substratum of his first brochure entitled _Variétés, Notices et Raretés Bibliographiques_, _Paris_, 1822: it being a supplement to his previous Work of _Curiosités Bibliographiques_."[6] It is not always agreeable for an Author to have his Works reflected through the medium of a translation; especially where the Translator suffers a portion, however small, of his _own_ atrabiliousness, to be mixed up with the work translated: nor is it always safe for a third person to judge of the merits of the original through such a medium. Much allowance must therefore be made for M. Peignot; who, to say the truth, at the conclusion of his labours, seems to think that he has waded through a great deal of _dirt_ of some kind or other, which might have been better avoided; and that, in consequence, some general declaration, by way of _wiping, off_ a portion of the adhering mud, is due to the original Author. Accordingly, at the end of his analysis of M. Licquet's version, (which forms the second Letter in the brochure) he does me the honour to devote seven pages to the notice of my humble lucubrations:--and he prefaces this "_Notice des Ouvrages de M. Dibdin"_, by the following very handsome tribute to their worth: Si, dans les deux Lettres où nous avons rendu compte des traductions partielles du voyage de M.D., nous avons partagé l'opinion des deux estimable traducteurs, sur quelques erreurs et quelques inconvenances échappées a l'auteur anglais, nous sommes bien éloigné d'envelopper dans le même blame, tout ce qui est sorté de sa plume; car il y auroit injustice a lui refuser des connaissances très étendues en histoire littéraire, et en bibliographie: nous le disons franchement, il faudroit fermer les yeux à la lumière, ou être d'une partialité revoltante, pour ne pas convenir que, juste appréciateur de tous les trésors bibliographiques qu'il a le bonheur d'avoir sous la main, M. Dibdin en a fait connoitre en détail toute la richesse dans de nombreux d'ouvrages, ou très souvent le luxe d'érudition se trouve en harmonie avec le luxe typographique qu'il y a étalé. At the risk of incurring the imputation of vanity, I annex the preceding extract; because I am persuaded that the candid Reader will appreciate it in its proper light. I might, had I chosen to do so, have lengthened the extract by a yet more complimentary passage: but enough of M. Peignot--who, so far from suffering ill will or acerbity to predominate over a kind disposition, hath been pleased, since his publication, to write to me a very courteous Letter,[7] and to solicit a "continuance of my favours." Agreeably to the intimation expressed in a preceding page, I am now, in due order, to notice the labours of my translators M.M. LICQUET and CRAPELET. Their united version appeared in 1825, in four octavo volumes, of which the small paper was but indifferently well printed.[8] The preface to the first two volumes is by M. Licquet: and it is not divested of point and merit. It begins by attacking the _Quarterly Review_, (June 1821, p. 147.) for its severity of animadversion on the supposed listlessness and want of curiosity of the French in exploring the architectural antiquities of their country; and that, in consequence of such supineness, the English, considering them as their own property, have described them accordingly. "The decision (says the French translator) is severe; happily it is without foundation." After having devoted several pages to observations by way of reply to that critical Journal, M. Licquet continues thus:--unless I have unintentionally misrepresented him. The Englishman who travels in Normandy, meets, at every step, with reminiscences of his kings, his ancestors, his institutions, and his customs. Churches yet standing, after the lapse of seven centuries; majestic ruins; tombs--even to the very sound of the clock--all unite in affecting, here, the heart of a British subject: every thing seems to tell him that, in former times, HERE was his country; here the residence of his sovereigns; and here the cradle of his manners. This was more than sufficient to enflame the lively imagination of Mr. D. and to decide him to visit, in person, a country already explored by a great number of his countrymen; but he conceived that his narrative should embody other topics than those which ordinarily appeared in the text of his predecessors. "His work then is not only a description of castles, towns, churches, public monuments of every kind:--it is not only a representation of the general aspect of the country, as to its picturesque appearances--but it is an extended, minute, though occasionally inexact, account of public and private libraries; with reflections upon certain customs of the country, and upon the character of those who inhabit it. It is in short the personal history of the author, throughout the whole length of his journey. Not the smallest incident, however indifferent, but what has a place in the letters of the Bibliographer. Thus, he mentions every Inn where he stops: recommends or scolds the landlord--according to his civility or exaction. Has the author passed a bad night? the reader is sure to know it on the following morning. On the other hand, has he had a good night's rest in a comfortable bed? [dans un lit _comfortable_?] We are as sure to know this also, as soon as he awakes:--and thus far we are relieved from anxiety about the health of the traveller. Cold and heat--fine weather and bad weather--every variation of atmosphere is scrupulously recorded. What immediately follows, is unworthy of M. Licquet; because it not only implies a charge of a heinous description--accusing me of an insidious intrusion into domestic circles, a violation of confidence, and a systematic derision of persons and things--but because the French translator, exercising that sense and shrewdness which usually distinguish him, MUST have known that such a charge _could_ not have been founded in FACT. He must have known that any gentleman, leaving England with those letters which brought me in contact with some of the first circles on the Continent, MUST have left it without leaving his character _behind_ him; and that such a character could not, in the natural order of things--seen even through the sensitive medium of a French critic--have been guilty of the grossness and improprieties imputed to me by M. Licquet. I treat therefore this "damnation in wholesale" with scorn and contempt: and hasten to impress the reader with a more favourable opinion of my Norman translator. He _will_ have it that "the English Traveller's imagination is lively and ardent--and his spirit, that of raillery and lightness. He examines as he runs along; that is to say, he does not give himself time to examine; he examines ill; he deceives himself; and he subjects his readers to be deceived with him. He traverses, at a hard trot, one of the most ancient towns in France; puts his head out of his carriage window--and boldly decides that the town is of the time of Francis I."![9] p. xviij. There is pleasantry, and perhaps some little truth, in this vein of observation; and it had been better, perhaps, for the credit of the good taste and gentleman-like feeling of Mons. Licquet, if he had uniformly maintained his character in these respects. I have however, in the subsequent pages,[10] occasionally grappled with my annotator in proving the fallacy, or the want of charity, of many of his animadversions: and the reader probably may not be displeased, if, by way of "avant propos," I indulge him here with a specimen of them--taken from his preface. M. Licquet says, that I "create scenes; arrange a drama; trace characters; imagine a dialogue, frequently in French--and in what French--gracious God!--in assigning to postilions a ridiculous language, and to men of the world the language of postilions." These be sharp words:[11] but what does the Reader imagine may be the probable "result" of the English Traveller's inadvertencies?... A result, ("gracious Heaven!") very little anticipated by the author. Let him ponder well upon the awful language which ensues. "What (says M. Licquet) will quickly be the result, with us, of such indiscretions as those of which M. Dibdin is guilty? The necessity of SHUTTING OUR PORTS, or at least of placing a GUARD UPON OUR LIPS!" There is some consolation however left for me, in balancing this tremendous denunciation by M. Licquet's eulogy of my good qualities--which a natural diffidence impels me to quote in the original words of their author. "A Dieu ne plaise, toutefois, que j'accuse ici LE COEUR de M. Dibdin. Je n'ai jamais eu l'honneur de le voir: je ne le connais que par ses ecrits; principalement par son _Splendid Tour_, et je ne balance pas à déclarer que l'auteur doit être doué d'une ame honnête, et de ces qualités fondamentales qui constituent l'homme de bien. Il préfère sa croyance; mais il respecte la croyance des autres; son érudition parait....[12] variée. Son amour pour les antiquités est immense; et par antiquités j'entends ici tout ce qui est _antique_ ou seulement _ancien_, quellesque soient d'ailleurs la nature et la forme des objets." Pref. p. xv. xvij. Once more; and to conclude with M. Licquet. After these general observations upon the _Text_ of the Tour, M. Licquet favours us with the following--upon the _Plates_. "These plates (says he) are intended to represent some of the principal monuments; the most beautiful landscapes, and the most remarkable persons, comprehending even the servants of an inn. If _talent_ be sought in these Engravings, it will doubtless be found in them; but strangers must not seek for _fidelity_ of representation from what is before their eyes. The greater number of the Designs are, in some sort, ideal compositions, which, by resembling every thing, resemble nothing in particular: and it is worthy of remark that the Artist, in imitation of the Author, seems to have thought that he had only to shew himself _clever_, without troubling himself to be _faithful_." To this, I reply in the very words of M. Licquet himself: "the decision is severe; luckily it is unjust." The only portions of the designs of their skilful author, which may be taxed with a tendency to extravagance, are the _groups_: which, when accompanied by views of landscapes, or of monuments, are probably too profusely indulged in; but the _individuals_, constituting those groups, belong precisely to the _country_ in which they are represented. In the first and second volumes they are _French_; in the third they are _Germans_--all over. Will M. Licquet pretend to say that the churches, monasteries, streets, and buildings, with which the previous Edition of this Tour is so elaborately embellished, have the slightest tendency to IMAGINED SCENERY? If he do, his optics must be peculiarly his own. I have, in a subsequent page, (p. 34, note) slightly alluded to the cost and risk attendant on the Plates; but I may confidently affirm, from experience, that two thirds of the expense incurred would have secured the same sale at the same price. However, the die is cast; and the voice of lamentation is fruitless. I now come to the consideration of M. Licquet's coadjutor, M. CRAPELET. Although the line of conduct pursued by that very singular gentleman be of an infinitely more crooked description than that of his Predecessor, yet, in this place, I shall observe less respecting it; inasmuch as, in the subsequent pages, (pp. 209, 245, 253, 400, &c.) the version and annotations of M. Crapelet have been somewhat minutely discussed. Upon the SPIRIT which could give rise to such a version, and such annotations, I will here only observe, that it very much resembles that of searchers of our street-pavements; who, with long nails, scrape out the dirt from the interstices of the stones, with the hope of making a discovery of some lost treasure which may compensate the toil of perseverance. The love of lucre may, or may not, have influenced my Parisian translator; but the love of discovery of latent error, and of exposure of venial transgression, has undoubtedly, from beginning to end, excited his zeal and perseverance. That carping spirit, which shuts its eyes upon what is liberal and kind, and withholds its assent to what is honourable and just, it is the distinguished lot--and, perhaps, as the translator may imagine, the distinguished felicity--of M. Crapelet to possess. Never was greater reluctance displayed in admitting even the palpable truths of a text, than what is displayed in the notes of M. Crapelet: and whenever a concurring sentiment comes from him, it seems to exude like his heart's life-blood. Having already answered, in detail, his separate publication confined to my 30th Letter[13]--(the 8th of the second volume, in _this_ edition) and having replied to those animadversions which appear in his translation of the whole of the second volume, in this edition--it remains here only to consign the Translator to the careful and impartial consideration of the Reader, who, it is requested, may be umpire between both parties. Not to admit that the text of this Edition is in many places improved, from the suggestions of my Translators, by corrections of "Names of Persons, Places, and Things," would be to betray a stubbornness or obtuseness of feeling which certainly does not enter into the composition of its author. I now turn, not without some little anxiety, yet not wholly divested of the hope of a favourable issue, to the character and object of the Edition HERE presented to the Public. It will be evident, at first glance, that it is greatly "shorn of its beams" in regard to graphic decorations and typographical splendour. Yet its garb, if less costly, is not made of coarse materials: for it has been the wish and aim of the Publishers, that this impression should rank among books worthy of the DISTINGUISHED PRESS from which it issues. Nor is it unadorned by the sister art of _Engraving_; for, although on a reduced scale, some of the repeated plates may even dispute the palm of superiority with their predecessors. Several of the GROUPS, executed on _copper_ in the preceding edition, have been executed on _wood_ in the present; and it is for the learned in these matters to decide upon their relative merits. To have attempted portraits upon wood, would have inevitably led to failure. There are however, a few NEW PLATES, which cannot fail to elicit the Purchaser's particular attention. Of these, the portraits of the _Abbé de la Rue_ (procured through the kind offices of my excellent friend Mr. Douce), and the _Comte de Brienne_, the _Gold Medal of Louis XII_. the _Stone Pulpit of Strasbourg Cathedral,_ and the _Prater near Vienna_--are particularly to be noticed.[14] This Edition has also another attraction, rather popular in the present day, which may add to its recommendation even with those possessed of its precursor. It contains fac-similes of the AUTOGRAPHS of several distinguished Literati and Artists upon the Continent;[15] who, looking at the text of the work through a less jaundiced medium than the Parisian translator, have continued a correspondence with the Author, upon the most friendly terms, since its publication. The accuracy of these fac-similes must be admitted, even by the parties themselves, to be indisputable. Among them, are several, executed by hands.. which now CEASE to guide the pen! I had long and fondly hoped to have been gratified by increasing testimonies of the warmth of heart which had directed several of the pens in question--hoped ... even against the admonition of a pagan poet ... "Vitae summa brevis SPEM nos vetat inchoare LONGAM." But such hopes are now irretrievably cut off; and the remembrance of the past must solace the anticipations of the future. So much respecting the _decorative_ department of this new edition of the Tour. I have now to request the Reader's attention to a few points more immediately connected with what may be considered its _intrinsic_ worth. In the first place, it may be pronounced to be an Edition both _abridged_ and _enlarged_: abridged, as regards the lengthiness of description of many of the MSS. and Printed Books--and enlarged, as respects the addition, of many notes; partly of a controversial, and partly of an obituary, description. The "Antiquarian and Picturesque" portions remain nearly as heretofore; and upon the whole I doubt whether the amputation of matter has extended beyond _an eighth_ of what appeared in the previous edition. It had long ago been suggested to me--from a quarter too high and respectable to doubt the wisdom of its decision--that the Contents of this Tour should be made known to the Public through a less costly medium:--that the objects described in it were, in a measure, new and interesting--but that the high price of the purchase rendered it, to the majority of Readers, an inaccessible publication. I hope that these objections are fully met, and successfully set aside, by the Work in its PRESENT FORM. To have produced it, _wholly divested_ of ornament, would have been as foreign to my habits as repugnant to my feelings. I have therefore, as I would willingly conclude, hit upon the happy medium--between sterility and excess of decoration. After all, the greater part of the ground here trodden, yet continues to be untrodden ground to the public. I am not acquainted with any publication which embraces all the objects here described; nor can I bring myself to think that a perusal of the first and third volumes may not be unattended with gratification of a peculiar description, to the lovers of antiquities and picturesque beauties. The second volume is rather the exclusive province of the Bibliographer. In retracing the steps here marked out, I will not be hypocrite enough to dissemble a sort of triumphant feeling which accompanies a retrospection of the time, labour, and money devoted.. in doing justice, according to my means, to the attractions and worth of the Countries which these pages describe. Every such effort is, in its way, a NATIONAL effort. Every such attempt unites, in stronger bonds, the reciprocities of a generous feeling between rival Nations; and if my reward has not been in _wealth_, it has been in the hearty commendation of the enlightened and the good: "Mea me virtute involvo."[16] I cannot boast of the commendatory strains of public Journals in my own country. No intellectual steam-engine has been put in motion to manufacture a review of unqualified approbation of the Work now submitted to the public eye--at an expense, commensurate with the ordinary means of purchase. With the exception of an indirect and laudatory notice of it, in the immortal pages of the Author of Waverley, of the Sketch book, and of Reginald Dalton, this Tour has had to fight its way under the splendour of its own banners, and in the strength of its own cause. The previous Edition is now a scarce and a costly book. Its Successor has enough to recommend it, even to the most fastidious collector, from the elegance of its type and decorations, and from the reasonableness of its price; but the highest ambition of its author is, that it may be a part of the furniture of every Circulating Library in the Kingdom. If he were not conscious that GOOD would result from its perusal, he would not venture upon such an avowal. "FELIX FAUSTUMQUE SIT!" [1] M. Crapelet is of course speaking of the PREVIOUS edition of the Tour. He continues thus: "M. Dibdin, dans son voyage en France, a visité nos départemens de l'ouest et de l'est, toutes leurs principales villes, presque tous les lieux remarquables par les antiquités, par les monumens, par les beautés du site, ou par les souvenirs historiques. Il a visité les châteaux, les églises, les chapelles; il a observé nos moeurs, nos coutumes; nos habitudes; il a examiné nos Musées et nos premiers Cabinets de curiosité; il s'est concentré dans nos Bibliothéques. Il parle de notre littérature et des hommes de lettres, des arts et de nos artistes; il critique les personnes comme les choses; il loue quelquefois, il plaisante souvent; la vivacité de son esprit l'égare presque toujours." A careful perusal of the notes in THIS edition will shew that my veracity has not "almost always led me astray." [2] GABRIEL PEIGNOT; _Variétés, Notices et Raretés Bibliographiques, 1822, 8vo. p. 4_. [3] _Lettre d'un Relieur Francais à un Bibliographe Anglais; à Paris, de l'Imprimerie de Crapelet_, 1822, 8vo. p.p. 28. [4] It is a little curious that M. Lesné has not been singular in this supposition. My amiable and excellent friend M. Schweighæuser of Strasbourg had the same notion: at least, he told me that the style of the Tour very frequently reminded him of that of Sterne. I can only say--and say very honestly--that I as much thought of Sterne as I did of ... William Caxton! [5] Copious as are the above quotations, from the thoroughly original M. Lesné, I cannot resist the risking of the readers patience and good opinion, by the subjoining of the following passage--with which the brochure concludes. "D'après la multitude de choses hasardées que contient votre Lettre, vous en aurez probablement recu quelques unes de personnes que vous aurez choquées plus que moi, qui vous devrais plutôt des remercimens pour avoir pris la peine de traduire quelques pages de mon ouvrage; mais il n'en est pas de même de bien des gens, et cela ne doit pas les engager à être autant communicatif avec vous, si vous reveniez en France. Je souhaite, dans ce dernier cas, que tous les typographes, les bibliothècaires, les bibliognostes, les bibliographes, les bibliolathes, les bibliomanes, les biblophiles, les bibliopoles, ceux qui exercent la bibliuguiancie et les bibliopégistes même, soient pour vous autant de bibliotaphes; vous ne seriez plus à même de critiquer ce que vous sauriez et ce que vous ne sauriez pas, comme vous l'aviez si souvent fait inconsidérément: Mais tous vos procédés ne nous étonnent pas, C'est le sort des Français de faire DES INGRATS; On les voit servir ceux qui leur furent nuisibles; Je crois que sur ce point ils sont incorrigibles. Je vous avouerai cependant que je suis loin d'être fâché de vous voir en agir ainsi envers mes compatriotes: je désirerais que beaucoup d'Anglais fissent de même; cela pourrait désangliciser ou désanglomaniser les Français. Vous, Monsieur, qui aimez les mots nouveaux, aidez-moi, je vous prie, à franciser, à purifier celui-ci. Quant à moi Je ne fus pas nourri de Grec et de Latin, J'appris à veiller tard, à me lever matin, La nature est le livre où je fis mes études, Et tous ces mots nouveaux me semblent long-temps rudes; Je trouve qu'on ne peut très bien les prononcer Sans affectation, au moins sans grimacer; Que tous ces mots tirés des langues étrangères, Devraient être l'objet de critiques sévères. Faites donc de l'esprit en depit du bon sens, On vous critiquera; quant à moi j'y consens. Je terminerai cette longue Lettre de deux manières: à l'anglaise, en vous souhaitant le bon jour ou le bon soir, suivant l'heure à laquelle vous la recevrez; à la française, en vous priant de me croire, Monsieur, Votre très humble serviteur, LESNÉ. [6] The above brochure consists of two Letters; each to an anonymous bibliographical "Confrere:" one is upon the subject of M. Crapelet's version--the other, upon that of M. Licquet's version--of a portion of the Tour. The notice of the Works of the Author of the Tour; a list of the prices for which the Books mentioned in it have been sold; a Notice of the "Hours of Charlemagne" (see vol. ii. 199) and some account of the late Mr. Porson "Librarian of the London Institution"--form the remaining portion of this little volume of about 160 pages. For the "Curiosités Bibliographiques," consult the _Bibliomania_, pp. 90, 91, &c. &c. [7] This letter accompanied another Work of M. Peignot, relating to editions and translations of the Roman Classics:--and as the reader will find, in the ensuing pages, that I have been sometime past labouring under the frightful, but popular, mania of AUTOGRAPHS, I subjoin with no small satisfaction a fac-simile of the Autograph of this enthusiastic and most diligent Bibliographer. [Autograph: Votre tres humble et obéissant serviteur, G. Peignot] [8] See page xviii.--ante. [9] M. Licquet goes on to afford an exemplification of this precipitancy of conjecture, in my having construed the word _Allemagne_--a village near to Caen--by that of _Germany_. I refer the reader to p. 168 post, to shew with what perfect frankness I have admitted and corrected this "_hippopotamos_" error. [10] More especially at pages 82, 100, 367. [11] "Sharp" as they may be, they are softened, in some measure, by the admission of my bitterest annotator, M. Crapelet, that "I speak and understand the French language well." vol. ii. p. 253. It is painful and unusual with me to have recourse to such apparently self-complimentary language; but when an adversary drives one into a corner, and will not allow of fair space and fair play, one must fight with feet as well as with hands ... "manibus pedibusque" ... [12] This _hiatus_ must not be filled by the Author: ... "haud equidem tali me dignor honore." [13] See vol. ii. p. 210-11. [14] See vol. i. p. 186, vol. ii. pp. 49, 296, 392. The other fresh plates are, _Portrait of the Author_, frontispiece; Bird's-eye views of the _Monasteries of St. Peter's, Salzburg, and of Molk:_ vol. iii. pp. 195, 248, 381, _Black Eagle Inn_, Munich, p. 156. But the Reader will be pleased to examine the _List of Plates prefixed_--in a preceding page. [15] Among these distinguished Literati, I here enrol with peculiar satisfaction the names of the MARQUIS DE CHATEAUGIRON and Mons. DURAND DE LANCON. No opportunity having occurred in the subsequent pages to incorporate fac-similes of the Autographs of these distinguished _Bibliophiles_, they are annexed in the present place. [Autographs: M. de Chateaugiron, D. de Lancon] [16] It is more than a negative consolation to me, to have lived to see the day, that, although comparatively impoverished, _others_ have been enriched by my labours. When I noticed a complete set of my lucubrations on LARGE PAPER, valued at 250_l_. in a bookseller's catalogue, (Mr. Pickering's) and afterwards learnt that this set had found a PURCHASER, I had reason to think that I had "deserved well" of the Literature of my country: and I resolved to live "mihi carior" in consequence. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL Antiquarian AND PICTURESQUE TOUR. The Notes peculiar to THIS EDITION are distinguished by being inserted between brackets: as thus:--[] *** The Index is placed at the end of the First Volume, for the purpose of equalising the size of the Volumes. [Illustration] LETTER I. PASSAGE TO DIEPPE. _Dieppe, April 20, 1818_. At length then, my dear Friend, the long projected "_Bibliographical, Antiquarian_,[17] and _Picturesque Tour"_ is carried into execution; and the Tourist is safely landed on the shores of Normandy. "Vous voilà donc, Monsieur à Dieppe!"--exclaimed the landlord of the Grand Hôtel d'Angleterre--as I made my way through a vociferating crowd of old and young, of both sexes, with cards of addresses in their hands; entreating me to take up my abode at their respective hotels.... But I know your love of method, and that you will be angry with me if I do not "begin at the beginning." It was surely on one of the finest of all fine days that I left my home, on the 14th of this present month, for the land of castles, churches, and ancient chivalry. The wind from the south-east was blowing pretty smartly at the time; but the sky was without a cloud, and I could not but look upon the brilliancy of every external object as a favourable omen of the progress and termination of my tour. Adverse winds, or the indolence or unwillingness of the Captain, detained us at Brighton two whole days--instead of sailing, as we were led to expect, on the day following our arrival. We were to form the first ship's company which had visited France this season. On approaching our gallant little bark, the _Nancy_,[18] commanded by Captain BLABER, the anchor was weighed, and hoisting sail, we stood out to sea. The day began to improve upon us. The gloomy appearances of the morning gradually brightened up. A host of black clouds rolled heavily away. The sun at length shone in his full meridian splendour, and the ocean sparkled as we cut through its emerald waves. As I supposed us to near the French coast, I strained my eyes to obtain an early glimpse of something in the shape of cliff or jettie. But the wind continued determinedly in the south east: the waves rose in larger masses; and our little vessel threw up a heavy shower of foam as we entered on the various tacks. It is a grand sight--that vast, and apparently interminable ocean-- .... maria undique et undique coelum! We darted from Beechy Head upon a long tack for the French coast: and as the sun declined, we found it most prudent to put the Captain's advice, of going below, into execution. Then commenced all the miseries of the voyage. The moon had begun to assert her ascendancy, when, racked with torture and pain in our respective berths, a tremendous surge washed completely over the deck, sky-light, and binnacle: and down came, in consequence, drenched with the briny wave, the hardiest of our crew, who, till then, had ventured to linger upon deck. That crew was various; and not without a few of the natives of those shores which we were about to visit. To cut short my ship-narrative, suffice it only farther to say, that, towards midnight, we heard our Captain exclaim that he saw "the lights of Dieppe"--a joyful sound to us miserable wretches below. I well remember, at this moment, looking up towards the deck with a cheerless eye, and perceiving the light of the moon still lingering upon the main-sail,--but I shall never forget how much more powerfully my sensations were excited, when, as the dawn of day made objects visible, I looked up, and saw an old wrinkle-visaged sailor, with a red night cap on begirt with large blue, puckered, short petticoats--in possession of the helm--about to steer the vessel into harbour![19] About seven we were all upon deck. The sea was yet swoln and agitated, and of a dingy colour: while .... heavily with clouds came on the day, as we slowly approached the outward harbour of DIEPPE. A grey morning with drizzling rain, is not the best accompaniment of a first visit to a foreign shore. Nevertheless every thing was new, and strange, and striking; and the huge crucifix, to the right, did not fail to make a very forcible impression. As we approached the, inner harbour, the shipping and the buildings more distinctly presented themselves. The harbour is large, and the vessels are entirely mercantile, with a plentiful sprinkling of fishing smacks: but the manner in which the latter harmonized with the tint and structure of the houses--the bustle upon shore--the casks, deal planks, ropes, and goods of every description upon the quays,--all formed a most animated and interesting scene. The population seemed countless, and chiefly females; whose high caps and enormous ear-rings, with the rest of their paraphernalia, half persuaded me that instead of being some few twenty-five leagues only from our own white cliffs, I had in fact dropt upon the Antipodes! What a scene (said I to my companion) for our CALCOTT to depict![20] It was a full hour before we landed--saluted, and even assailed on all sides, with entreaties to come to certain hotels. We were not long however in fixing our residence at the _Hotel d'Angleterre_, of which the worthy Mons. De La Rue[21] is the landlord. [17] [Mons. Licquet, my translator, thinks, that in using the word "_Antiquaire_"--as appears in the previous edition of this work, incorporated in the gallicised sentence of "_Voyage Bibliographique Antiquaire_, &c."--I have committed an error; as the word "_Archéologique_" ought, in his opinion, to have been adopted--and he supposes that he best expresses my meaning by its adoption. Such a correction may be better French; but "Archaeological" is not exactly what is usually meant--in our language--by "Antiquarian."] [18] This smart little vessel, of about 70 tons burden, considered to be the fastest sailing packet from Dieppe, survived our voyage only about eighteen months. Her end had nearly proved fatal to every soul on board of her. In a dark night, in the month of September, when bound for Dieppe, she was struck by a heavy London brig. The crew was with difficulty saved--and the vessel went down within about twenty-five minutes after the shock. [19] The English are not permitted to bring their own vessels into harbour--for obvious reasons. [20] [This "scene" has been, in fact, subsequently depicted by. the masterly pencil of J.M.W.TURNER, Esq. R. A: and the picture, in which almost all the powers of that surprising Artist are concentrated, was lately offered for sale by public auction. How it was suffered to be _bought in_ for three hundred and eighty guineas, is at once a riddle and a reproach to public taste.] [21] [I learn that he is since DECEASED. Thus the very first chapter of this second edition has to record an instance of the casualties and mutabilities which the short space of ten years has effected. Mons. De la Rue was a man of worth and of virtue.] LETTER II. DIEPPE. FISHERIES. STREETS. CHURCHES OF ST. JAQUES AND ST. REMY. DIVINE WORSHIP. MILITARY MASS. The town of Dieppe contains a population of about twenty-thousand souls.[22] Of these, by much the greater _stationary_ part are females; arising from one third at least of the males being constantly engaged in the FISHERIES. As these fisheries are the main support of the inhabitants, it is right that you should know something about them. The _herring_ fishery takes place twice a year: in August and October. The August fishery is carried on along the shores of England and the North. From sixty to eighty vessels, of from twenty-five to thirty tons burthen each, with about fifteen men in each vessel, are usually employed. They are freighted with salt and empty barrels, for seasoning and stowing the fish, and they return about the end of October. The herrings caught in August are considerably preferable to those caught in October. The October fishery is carried on with smaller vessels, along the coast of France from Boulogne to Havre. From one hundred and twenty, to one hundred and thirty vessels, are engaged in this latter navigation; and the fish, which is smaller, and of inferior flavour to that caught upon the English coasts, is sent almost entirely to the provinces and to Paris, where it is eaten fresh. So much for the herring.[23] The _Mackarel_ fishery usually commences towards the month of July, along the coast of Picardy; because, being a sort of fish of passage, it gets into the channel in the month of April. It then moves towards the straits of Dover, as summer approaches. For this fishery they make use of large decked-vessels, from twenty to fifty tons burthen, manned with from twelve to twenty men. There are however Dieppe boats employed in this fishery which go as far as the Scilly Islands and Ushant, towards the middle of April. They carry with them the salt requisite to season the fish, which are afterwards sent to Paris, and to the provinces in the interior of France. The _cod fishery_ is divided into the fresh and dried fish. The former continues from the beginning of February to the end of April--and the vessels employed, which go as far as Newfoundland, are two deckers, and from one hundred to one hundred and fifty tons burthen--although, in fact, they rarely carry more than fifteen tons for fear of spoiling the fish. The dried-cod fishery is carried on in vessels of all sizes; but it is essential that they be of a certain depth, because the fish is more cumbersome than weighty. The vessels however usually set sail about the month of March or April, in order that they may have the advantage of the summer season, to dry the fish. There are vessels which go to Newfoundland laden with brandy, flour, beans, treacle, linen and woollen cloths, which they dispose of to the inhabitants of the French colonies in exchange for dried cod. This latter species of commerce may be carried on in the summer months--as late as July. In the common markets for retail trade, they are not very nice in the quality or condition of their fish; and enormous conger eels, which would be instantly rejected by the middling, or even lower classes in England, are, at Dieppe, bought with avidity and relished with glee. A few francs will procure a dish of fish large enough for a dozen people. The quays are constantly crowded, but there seems to be more of bustle than of business. The town is certainly picturesque, notwithstanding the houses are very little more than a century old, and the streets are formal and comparatively wide. Indeed it should seem that the houses were built expressly for Noblemen and Gentlemen, although they are inhabited by tradesmen, mechanics, and artizans, in apparently very indifferent circumstances. I scarcely saw six private houses which could be called elegant, and not a gentleman's carriage has been yet noticed in the streets. But if the _Dieppois_ are not rich, they seem happy, and are in a constant state of occupation. A woman sells her wares in an open shop, or in an insulated booth, and sits without her bonnet (as indeed do all the tradesmen's wives), and works or sings as humour sways her. A man sells gingerbread in an open shed, and in the intervals of his customer's coming, reads some popular history or romance. Most of the upper windows are wholly destitute of glass; but are smothered with clothes, rags, and wall flowers. The fragrance emitted from these flowers affords no unpleasing antidote to odors of a very different description; and here we begin to have a too convincing proof of the general character of the country in regard to the want of cleanliness. A little good sense, or rather a better-regulated police, would speedily get rid of such nuisances. The want of public sewers is another great and grievous cause of smells of every description. At Dieppe there are fountains in abundance; and if some of the limpid streams, which issue from them, were directed to cleansing the streets, (which are excellently well paved) the effect would be both more salubrious and pleasant--especially to the sensitive organs of Englishmen. We had hardly concluded our breakfasts, when a loud and clattering sound was heard; and down came, in a heavy trot, with sundry ear-piercing crackings of the whip, the thundering _Diligence_: large, lofty, and of most unwieldy dimensions: of a structure, too, strong enough to carry a half score of elephants. The postilion is an animal perfectly _sui generis_: gay, alert, and living upon the best possible terms with himself. He wears the royal livery, red and blue; with a plate of the fleur de lis upon his left arm. His hair is tied behind, in a thick, short, tightly fastened queue: with powder and pomatum enough to weather a whole winter's storm and tempest.[24] As he never rises in his stirrups,[25] I leave you to judge of the merciless effects of this ever-beating club upon the texture of his jacket. He is however fond of his horses: is well known by them; and there is all flourish and noise, and no sort of cruelty, in his treatment of them. His spurs are of tremendous dimensions; such as we see sticking to the heels of knights in illuminated Mss. of the XVth century. He has nothing to do with the ponderous machine behind him. He sits upon the near of the two wheel horses, with three horses before him. His turnings are all adroitly and correctly made; and, upon the whole, he is a clever fellow in the exercise of his office. You ought to know, that, formerly, this town was greatly celebrated for its manufactures in _Ivory_; but the present aspect of the ivory-market affords only a faint notion of what it might have been in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. I purchased a few subordinate articles (chiefly of a religious character) and which I shall preserve rather as a matter of evidence than of admiration. There is yet however a considerable manufacture of _thread lace_; and between three and four thousand females are supposed to earn a comfortable livelihood by it.[26] My love of ecclesiastical architecture quickly induced me to visit the CHURCHES; and I set out with two English gentlemen to pay our respects to the principal church, St. JAQUES. As we entered it, a general gloom prevailed, and a sort of premature evening came on; while the clatter of the sabots was sufficiently audible along the aisles. In making the circuit of the side chapels, an unusual light proceeded from a sort of grated door way. We approached, and witnessed a sight which could not fail to rivet our attention. In what seemed to be an excavated interior, were several figures, cut in stone, and coloured after life, (of which they were the size) representing the _Three Maries, St. John, and Joseph of Arimathea_.. in the act of entombing Christ: the figure of our Saviour being half sunk into the tomb. The whole was partially illuminated by some two dozen of shabby and nearly consumed tallow candles; affording a striking contrast to the increasing darkness of the nave and the side aisles. We retired, more and more struck with the novelty of every object around us, to our supper and beds, which were excellent; and a good night's rest made me forget the miseries of the preceding evening. The next morning, being Sunday, we betook ourselves in good time to the service of ST. JAQUES:[27] but on our way thither, we saw a waxen figure of Christ (usually called an "Ecce Homo") enclosed within a box, of which the doors were opened. The figure and box are the property of the man who plays on a violin, close to the box; and who is selling little mass books, supposed to be rendered more sacred by having been passed across the feet and hands of the waxen Christ. Such a mongrel occupation, and such a motley group, must strike you with astonishment--as a Sunday morning's recreation. [Illustration] By half past ten the congregation had assembled within the Church; and every side-chapel (I think about twelve in number) began to be filled by the penitent flocks: each bringing, or hiring, a rush-bottomed chair--with which the churches are pretty liberally furnished, and of which the _Tarif_ (or terms of hire) is pasted upon the walls. There were, I am quite sure, full eighteen women to one man: which may in part be accounted for, by the almost uniform absence of a third of the male population occupied in the fisheries. I think there could not have been fewer than two thousand souls present. But what struck me as the most ludicrously solemn thing I had ever beheld, was a huge tall figure, dressed like a drum-major, with a large cocked hat and three white plumes, (the only covered male figure in the congregation,) a broad white sash upon a complete suit of red, including red stockings;--representing what in our country is called a _Beadle_. He was a sturdy, grim-looking fellow; bearing an halberd in his right hand, which he wielded with a sort of pompous swing, infusing terror into the young, and commanding the admiration of the old. I must not, however, omit to inform you, that half the service was scarcely performed when the preacher mounted a pulpit, with a black cap on, and read a short sermon from a printed book. I shall long have a distinct recollection of the figure and attitude of the _Verger_ who attended the preacher. He followed him to the pulpit, fastened the door, became stationary, and rested his left arm over the railings of the stairs. Anon, he took out his snuff-box with his right hand, and regaled himself with a pinch of snuff in the most joyous and comfortably-abstracted manner imaginable. There he remained till the conclusion of the discourse; not one word of which seemed to afford him half the satisfaction as did the contents of his snuff-box. _Military Mass_ was performed about an hour after, at the church of ST. REMY, whither I strolled quietly, to witness the devotion of the congregation previous to the entry of the soldiers; and I will not dissemble being much struck and gratified by what I saw. There was more simplicity: a smaller congregation: softer music: a lower-toned organ; less rush of people; and in very many of the flock the most intense and unfeigned expression of piety. At the elevation of the host, from the end of the choir, (near which was suspended a white flag with the portrait of the present King[28] upon it) a bell was rung from the tower of the church; the sound, below, was soft and silver-toned--accompanied by rather a quick movement on the organ, upon the diapason stop; which, united with the silence and prostration of the congregation, might have commanded the reverence of the most profane. There is nothing, my dear friend, more gratifying, in a foreign land, than the general appearance of earnestness of devotion on a sabbath day; especially within the HOUSE OF GOD. However, I quickly heard the clangor of the trumpet, the beat of drums, the measured tramp of human feet, and up marched two or three troops of the national guard to perform military mass. I retired precipitately to the Inn, being well pleased to have escaped this strange and distracting sight: so little in harmony with the rites and ceremonies of our own church, and in truth so little accordant with the service which I had just beheld. [22] [Mons. Licquet says that there were about 17,000 souls in 1824; so that the above number may be that of the amount of its _present_ population. "Several changes (says my French translator) have taken place at Dieppe since I saw it: among the rest, there is a magnificent establishment of BATHS, where a crowd of people, of the first distinction, every year resort. Her Royal Highness, the Duchesse de Berri, may be numbered among these Visitors.] [23] [The common people to this day call a _herring_, a _child of Dieppe._ LICQUET.] [24] ["Sterne reproaches the French for their hyperbolical language: the air of the country had probably some influence on M. Dibdin when he adopted this phrase." LICQUET.] [25] ["Signifying, that the French postilions do not ride like the English." LICQUET.] [26] ["Dieppe for a long time was the rival of Argentan and Caen in the lace-manufactory: at the present day, this branch of commerce is almost annihilated there."--LICQUET.] [27] [In a note attached to the previous edition--I have said, "Here also, as well as at Rouen; they will have it that the ENGLISH built the Churches." Upon which M. Licquet remarks thus: "M. Dibdin's expression conveys too general an idea. It is true that _popular_ opinion attributes the erection of our gothic edifices to the ENGLISH: but there exists _another_ opinion, which is not deceptive upon this subject." What is meant to be here conveyed? Either the popular opinion is true or false; and it is a matter of perfect indifference to the author whether it be one or the other. For Mons. Licquet's comfort, I will freely avow that I believe it to be _false_.] [28] [Louis XVIII.] LETTER III. VILLAGE AND CASTLE OF ARQUES. SABBATH AMUSEMENTS. MANNERS AND CUSTOMS. BOULEVARDS. As I had received especial injunctions from our friend P--- not to leave Dieppe without paying a visit to the famous _Chateau d'Arques_[29], in its neighbourhood, I resolved to seize the opportunity of a tolerably fair, or rather gray-looking day, to go and pay due homage to those venerable remains of antiquity. The road thither is completely rural: apple-trees, just beginning to burst their blossoms; hamlets, small farm-houses: a profusion of rich herbage of various kinds--delighted and regaled me as I pursued my tranquil walk. The country is of a gently-undulating character; but the flats or meadows, between the parallel ranges of hills, are subject to constant inundation from the sea; and in an agricultural point of view are consequently of little use, except for summer grazing of the cattle. It was drawing on to vespers as I approached the _Village of Arques_. The old castle had frequently peeped out upon me, in my way thither, from its elevated situation; but being resolved to see "all that could be seen," a French village, for the first time, was not to be overlooked. For a country church, I know of few finer ones than that of Arques.[30] The site of the castle is admirable. My approach was to the western extremity; which, as you look down, brings the village and church of Arques in the back ground. If the eye were to be considered as a correct judge, this venerable pile, composed of hard flint-stone, intermixed with brick, would perhaps claim precedence, on the score of antiquity, over most of the castles of the middle ages. A deep moat, now dry pasture land, with a bold acclivity before you, should seem to bid defiance, even in times of old, to the foot and the spear of the invader. There are circular towers at the extremities, and a square citadel or donjon within. To the north, a good deal of earth has been recently thrown against the bases of the wall. The day harmonised admirably with the venerable object before me. The sunshine lasted but for a minute: when afterwards a gloom prevailed, and not a single catch of radiant light gilded any portion of the building. All was quiet, and of a sombre aspect,--and what _you_, in your admiration of art, would call in perfectly "fine keeping." I descended the hill, bidding a long adieu to this venerable relic of the hardihood of other times, and quickened my pace towards Dieppe. In gaining upon the town, I began to discern groups of rustics, as well as of bourgeoises, assembling and mingling in the dance. The women never think of wearing bonnets, and you have little idea how picturesquely the red and blue[31] (the colours of Raffaelle's Madonnas) glanced backwards and forwards amidst the fruit trees, to the sound of the spirit-stirring violin. The high, stiff, starched cauchoise, with its broad flappers, gave the finishing stroke to the novelty and singularity of the scene; and to their credit be it spoken, the women were much more tidily dressed than the men. The couples are frequently female, for want of a sufficient number of swains; but, whether correctly or incorrectly paired, they dance with earnestness, if not with grace. It was a picture à la Teniers, without its occasional grossness. This then, said I to myself, is what I have so often heard of the sabbath-gambols of the French--and long may they enjoy them! They are surely better than the brutal orgies of the pot-house, or the fanatical ravings of the tabernacle.[32] A late plain dinner, with my favourite vin ordinaire, recruited my strength, and kept me in perfectly good humour with Dieppe. The deportment of the _Dieppois_[33] towards the English, is, upon the whole, rather gracious than otherwise; because the town profits by the liberality and love of expense of the latter. Yet the young ones, as soon as they can lisp, are put in training for pronouncing the _G---- d----_; and a few horribly-deformed and importunate beggars are for ever assailing the doors of the hotels. But beggary is nothing like so frightful an evil as I had anticipated. The general aspect of the town seems to indicate the poverty of the inhabitants; their houses being too large to be entirely occupied. Bonaparte appears to have been anxious about the strengthening of the harbour; the navigation into which is somewhat difficult and intricate. The sides of the walls, as you enter, are lofty, steep, and strong; and raised batteries would render any hostile approach extremely hazardous to the assailants. There is no ship-building at this moment going on: the ribs of about half a dozen, half rotted, small merchant-craft, being all that is discernible. But much is projected, and much is hoped from such projects. Dieppe has questionless many local advantages both by land and by sea; yet it will require a long course of years to infuse confidence and beget a love of enterprise. In spite of all the _naval zeal_, it is here exhibited chiefly as affording means of subsistence from the fisheries. I must not however conclude my Dieppe journal without telling you that I hunted far and near for a good bookseller and for some old books--but found nothing worth the search, except a well-printed early _Rouen Missal_, and _Terence_ by _Badius Ascensius_. The booksellers are supplied with books chiefly from Rouen; the local press being too insignificant to mention. [29] The French Antiquaries have pushed the antiquity of this castle to the 11th century, supposing it to have been built by _William d'Arques_, Count of Tallon, son of the second marriage of Richard Duke of Normandy. I make no doubt, that, whenever built, the sea almost washed its base: for it is known to have occupied the whole of what is called the _Valley of Arques_, running as far as _Bouteilles_. Its position, in reference to the art of war, must have been almost impregnable. Other hypotheses assign its origin to the ninth or tenth century. Whenever built, its history has been fertile in sieges. In 1144, it was commanded by a Flemish Monk, who preferred the spear to the crosier, but who perished by an arrow in the contest. Of its history, up to the sixteenth century, I am not able to give any details; but in the wars of Henry IV. with the League, in 1589, it was taken by surprise by soldiers in the disguise of sailors: who, killing the centinels, quickly made themselves masters of the place. Henry caused it afterwards to be dismantled. In the first half of the eighteenth century it received very severe treatment from pillage, for the purpose of erecting public and private buildings at Dieppe. At present (in the language of the author of the _Rouen Itinerary_) "it is the abode of silence--save when that silence is interrupted by owls and other nocturnal birds." The view of it in Mr. Cotman's work is very faithful. [30] The _Itinéraire de Rouen_, 1816, p. 202, says, absurdly, that this church is of the XIth century. It is perhaps with more truth of the beginning of the XIVth century. A pleasing view of it is in Mr. Dawson Turner's elegant Tour in Normandy, 1818, 8vo. 2 vol. It possessed formerly a bust of Henry IV., which is supposed to have been placed there after the famous battle of Arques gained by Henry over the Duke of Mayenne in 1589. [31] The blue gown and red petticoat; or vice versa. [32] [I am anxious that the above sentence should stand precisely as it appeared in the first edition of this work; because a circumstance has arisen from it, which could have been as little in the anticipation, as it is in the comprehension, of the author. A lady, of high connections, and of respectable character, conceived the passage in question to be somewhat indecorous; or revolting to the serious sense entertained by all Christians, and especially by CHRISTIAN MINISTERS, of the mode of devoting the Sabbath day. In consequence, being in possession of a copy of this work, she DIVIDED it into two; not being willing to sully the splendour of the plates by the supposed impurity of such a passage:--and the prints were accordingly bound APART. The passage--as applied to the FRENCH PEOPLE--requires neither comment nor qualification; and in the same unsophisticated view of religious duties, the _latter_ part may be as strictly applied to the ENGLISH.] [33] The dress of the _sailors_ is the same as it was in the XIVth century; and so probably is that of the women. The illuminations in Froissard and Monstrelet clearly give us the Norman cauchoise. LETTER IV. ROUEN. APPROACH. BOULEVARDS. POPULATION. STREET SCENERY. Here I am, my excellent good friend, in the most extraordinary city in the world. One rubs one's eyes, and fancies one is dreaming, upon being carried through the streets of this old-fashioned place: or that, by some secret talismanic touch, we are absolutely mingling with human beings, and objects of art, at the commencement of the sixteenth century: so very curious, and out of the common appearance of things, is almost every object connected with ROUEN. But before I commence my observations upon the _town_, I must give you a brief sketch of my _journey_ hither. We had bespoke our places in the cabriolet of the Diligence, which just holds three tolerably comfortable; provided there be a disposition to accommodate each other. This cabriolet, as you have been often told, is a sort of a buggy, or phaeton seat, with a covering of leather in the front of the coach. It is fortified with a stiff leathern apron, upon the top of which is a piece of iron, covered with the leather, to fasten firmly by means of a hook on the perpendicular supporter of the head. There are stiffish leathern curtains on each side, to be drawn, if necessary, as a protection against the rain, &c. You lean upon the bar, or top of this leathern apron, which is no very uncomfortable resting-place. And thus we took leave of Dieppe, on the 4th day after our arrival there. As we were seated in the cabriolet, we could hardly refrain from loud laughter at the novelty of our situation, and the grotesqueness of the conveyance. Our Postilion was a rare specimen of his species, and a perfectly _unique copy_. He fancied himself, I suppose, rather getting "into the vale of years," and had contrived to tinge his cheeks with a plentiful portion of rouge.[34] His platted and powdered hair was surmounted with a battered black hat, tricked off with faded ribband: his jacket was dark blue velvet, with the insignia of his order (the royal arms) upon his left arm. What struck me as not a little singular, was, that his countenance was no very faint resemblance of that of _Voltaire_, when he might have been verging towards his sixtieth year. Most assuredly he resembled him in his elongated chin, and the sarcastic expression of his mouth. We rolled merrily along--the horses sometimes spreading, and sometimes closing, according to the size of the streets through which we were compelled to pass. The reins and harness are of _cord_; which, however keep together pretty well. The postilion endeavours to break the rapidity of the descent by conducting the wheels over small piles of gravel or rubbish, which are laid at the sides of the road, near the ditch; so that, to those sitting in the cabriolet, and overlooking the whole process, the effect, with weak nerves, is absolutely terrific. They stop little in changing horses, and the Diligence is certainly well managed, and in general no accidents occur. The road from Dieppe to Rouen is wide, hard, and in excellent condition. There are few or no hedges, but rows of apple-trees afford a sufficient line of demarkation. The country is open, and gently undulating; with scarcely any glimpses of what is called forest-scenery, till you get towards the conclusion of the first stage. Nothing particularly strikes you till you approach _Malaunai_, within about half a dozen miles of Rouen, and of course after the last change of horses. The environs of this beautiful village repay you for every species of disappointment, if any should have been experienced. The rising banks of a brisk serpentine trout stream are studded with white houses, in which are cotton manufactories that appear to be carried on with spirit and success. Above these houses are hanging woods; and though the early spring would scarcely have coated the branches with green in our own country, yet _here_ there was a general freshness of verdure, intermingled with the ruddy blossom of the apple; altogether rejoicing the eye and delighting the heart. Occasionally there were delicious spots, which the taste and wealth of an Englishman would have embellished to every possible degree of advantage. But wealth, for the gratification of picturesque taste, is a superfluity that will not quickly fall to the lot of the French. The Revolution seems to have drained their purses, as well as daunted their love of enterprise. Along the road-side there were some few houses of entertainment; and we observed the emptied cabriolet and stationary voiture, by the side of the gardens, where Monsieur and Madame, with their families, tripped lightly along the vistas, and tittered as John Bull saluted them. Moving vehicles, and numerous riding and walking groups, increased upon us; and every thing announced that we were approaching a _great and populous city_. The approach to ROUEN is indeed magnificent. I speak of the immediate approach; after you reach the top of a considerable rise, and are stopped by the barriers. You then look down a strait, broad, and strongly paved road, lined with a double row of trees on each side. As the foliage was not thickly set, we could discern, through the delicately-clothed branches, the tapering spire of the CATHEDRAL, and the more picturesque tower of the ABBAYE ST. OUEN--with hanging gardens, and white houses, to the left--covering a richly cultivated ridge of hills, which sink as it were into the _Boulevards_, and which is called the _Faubourg Cauchoise_. To the right, through the trees, you see the river SEINE (here of no despicable depth or breadth) covered with boats and vessels in motion: the voice of commerce, and the stir of industry, cheering and animating you as you approach the town. I was told that almost every vessel which I saw (some of them of two hundred, and even of three hundred tons burthen) was filled with brandy and wine. The lamps are suspended from the centre of long ropes, across the road; and the whole scene is of a truly novel and imposing character. But how shall I convey to you an idea of what I experienced, as, turning to the left, and leaving the broader streets which flank the quay, I began to enter the _penetralia_ of this truly antiquated town? What narrow streets, what overhanging houses, what bizarre, capricious ornaments! What a mixture of modern with ancient art! What fragments, or rather ruins, of old delicately-built Gothic churches! What signs of former and of modern devastation! What fountains, gutters, groups of never-ceasing men, women, and children, all gay, all occupied, and all apparently happy! The _Rue de la Grosse Horloge_ (so called from a huge, clumsy, antiquated clock which goes across it) struck me as being not among the least singular streets of Rouen. In five minutes I was within the court-yard of the _Hôtel Vatel_, the favourite residence of the English. It was evening when I arrived, in company with three Englishmen. We were soon saluted by the _laquais de place_--the leech-like hangers-on of every hotel--who begged to know if we would walk upon the Boulevards. We consented; turned to the right; and, gradually rising, gained a considerable eminence. Again we turned to the right, walking upon a raised promenade; while the blossoms of the pear and apple trees, within a hundred walled gardens, perfumed the air with a delicious fragrance. As we continued our route along the _Boulevard Beauvoisine_, we gained one of the most interesting and commanding views imaginable of the city of Rouen--just at that moment lighted up by the golden rays of a glorious sun-set--which gave a breadth and a mellower tone to the shadows upon the Cathedral and the Abbey of St. Ouen. The situation of Rouen renders it necessarily picturesque, view it from what spot you will. The population of Rouen is supposed to be full one hundred thousand souls. In truth, there is no end to the succession of human beings. They swarm like bees, and like bees are busy in bringing home the produce of their industry. You have all the bustle and agitation of Cheapside and Cornhill; only that the ever-moving scene is carried on within limits one-half as broad. Conceive Bucklersbury, Cannon-street, and Thames-street,--and yet you cannot conceive the narrow streets of Rouen: filled with the flaunting cauchoise, and echoing to the eternal tramp of the sabot. There they are; men, women, and children--all abroad in the very centre of the streets: alternately encountering the splashing of the gutter, and the jostling of their townsmen--while the swift cabriolet, or the slow-paced cart, or the thundering _Diligence_, severs them, and scatters them abroad, only that they may seem to be yet more condensely united. For myself, it is with difficulty I believe that I am not living in the times of our Henry VIII. and of their Francis I.; and am half disposed to inquire after the residence of _Guillaume Tailleur_ the printer--the associate, or foreign agent of your favourite _Pynson_.[35] [34] [Mons. Licquet here observes, "This is the first time I have heard it said that our Postilions put on rouge." What he adds, shall be given in his own pithy expression.--"Où la coquetterie va-t-elle se nicher?" What, however is above stated, was stated from a _conviction_ of its being TRUE] [35] [The third English Printer.] See the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. ii. p. 137, 8. LETTER V. ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. CATHEDRAL. MONUMENTS. RELIGIOUS CEREMONIES. THE ABBEY OF ST. OUEN. THE CHURCHES OF ST. MACLOU, ST. VINCENT, ST. VIVIEN, ST. GERVAIS, AND ST. PAUL. I have now made myself pretty well acquainted with the geography of Rouen. How shall I convey to you a summary, and yet a satisfactory, description of it? It cannot be done. You love old churches, old books, and relics of ancient art. These be my themes, therefore: so fancy yourself either strolling leisurely with me, arm in arm, in the streets--or sitting at my elbow. First for THE CATHEDRAL:--for what traveller of taste does not doff his bonnet to the _Mother Church_ of the town through which he happens to be travelling--or in which he takes up a temporary abode? The west-front,[36] always the _forte_ of the architect's skill, strikes you as you go down, or come up, the principal street--_La Rue des Carmes_,--which seems to bisect the town into equal parts. A small open space, (which however has been miserably encroached upon by petty shops) called the _Flower-garden_, is before this western front; so that it has some little breathing room in which to expand its beauties to the wondering eyes of the beholder. In my poor judgment, this western front has very few elevations comparable with it[37]--including even those of _Lincoln_ and _York_. The ornaments, especially upon the three porches, between the two towers, are numerous, rich, and for the greater part entire:--in spite of the Calvinists,[38] the French revolution, and time. Among the lower and smaller basso-relievos upon these porches, is the subject of the daughter of Herodias dancing before Herod. She is manoeuvering on her hands, her feet being upwards. To the right, the decapitation of St. John is taking place. The southern transept makes amends for the defects of the northern. The space before it is devoted to a sort of vegetable market: curious old houses encircle this space: and the ascent to the door, but more especially the curiously sculptured porch itself, with the open spaces in the upper part--light, fanciful and striking to a degree--produce an effect as pleasing as it is extraordinary. Add to this, the ever-restless feet of devotees, going in and coming out--the worn pavement, and the frittered ornaments, in consequence--seem to convince you that the ardour and activity of devotion is almost equal to that of business.[39] As you enter the cathedral, at the centre door, by descending two steps, you are struck with the length and loftiness of the nave, and with the lightness of the gallery which runs along the upper part of it. Perhaps the nave is too narrow for its length. The lantern of the central large tower is beautifully light and striking. It is supported by four massive clustered pillars, about forty feet in circumference;[40] but on casting your eye downwards, you are shocked at the tasteless division of the choir from the nave by what is called a _Grecian screen_: and the interior of the transepts has undergone a like preposterous restoration. The rose windows of the transepts, and that at the west end of the nave, merit your attention and commendation. I could not avoid noticing, to the right, upon entrance, perhaps the oldest side chapel in the cathedral: of a date, little less ancient than that of the northern tower; and perhaps of the end of the twelfth century. It contains by much the finest specimens of stained glass--of the early part of the XVIth century. There is also some beautiful stained glass on each side of the Chapel of the Virgin,[41] behind the choir; but although very ancient, it is the less interesting, as not being composed of groups, or of historical subjects. Yet, in this, as in almost all the churches which I have seen, frightful devastations have been made among the stained-glass windows by the fury of the Revolutionists.[42] Respecting the MONUMENTS, you ought to know that the famous ROLLO lies in one of the side-chapels, farther down to the right, upon entering; although his monument cannot be older than the thirteenth century. My attachment to the bibliomanical celebrity of JOHN, DUKE OF BEDFORD, will naturally lead me to the notice of his interment and monumental inscription. The latter is thus; _Ad dextrum Altaris Latus_ _Jacet_ IOANNES DUX BETFORDI _Normanniæ pro Rex_ _Obiit Anno_ MCCCCXXXV. The Duke's tomb will be seen engraved in Sandford's Genealogical History,[43] p. 314; which plate, in fact, is the identical one used by Ducarel; who had the singularly good fortune to decorate his Anglo-Norman Antiquities without any expense to himself![44] There is a curious chapter in Pommeraye's _Histoire de l'Eglise Cathedrale de Rouen_, p. 203, respecting the Duke's taking the habit of a canon of the cathedral. He attended, with his first wife, ANNE OF BURGUNDY, and threw himself upon the liberality and kindness of the monks, to be received by them as one of their order: "il les prioit d'être receu parmy eux comme un de leurs frères, et d'avoir tous les jours distribution de pain et de vin, et pour marque de fraternité d'être vétu du surplis et de l'aumusse: comme aussi d'être associé, luy et sa très généreuse et très illustre épouse, aux suffrages de leur compagnie, et à la participation de tous les biens qu'il plaira à Dieu leur donner la grace d'opérer," p. 204. A grand procession marked the day of the Duke's admission into the monkish fraternity. The whole of this, with an account of the Duke's superb presents to the sacristy, his dining with his Duchess, and receiving their portion of "eight loaves and four gallons of wine," are distinctly narrated by the minute Pommeraye. As you approach the _Chapel of the Virgin_, you pass by an ancient monument, to the left, of a recumbent Bishop, reposing behind a thin pillar, within a pretty ornamented Gothic arch.[45] To the eye of a tasteful antiquary this cannot fail to have its due attraction. While however we are treading upon hallowed ground, rendered if possible more sacred by the ashes of the illustrious dead, let us move gently onwards towards the _Chapel of the Virgin_, behind the choir. See, what bold and brilliant monumental figures are yonder, to the right of the altar! How gracefully they kneel and how devoutly they pray! They are the figures of the CARDINALS D'AMBOISE--uncle and nephew:--the former, minister of Louis XII.[46] and (what does not necessarily follow, but what gives him as high a claim upon the gratitude of posterity) the restorer and beautifier of the glorious building in which you are contemplating his figure. This splendid monument is entirely of black and white marble, of the early part of the sixteenth century. The figures just mentioned are of white marble, kneeling upon cushions, beneath a rich canopy of Gothic fretwork. They are in their professional robes; their heads are bare, exhibiting the tonsure, with the hair in one large curl behind. A small whole-length figure of _St. George_, their tutelary saint, is below them, in gilded marble: and the whole base, or lower frieze, of the monument, is surrounded by six delicately sculptured females, about three feet high, emblematic of the virtues for which these cardinals were so eminently distinguished. These figures, representing Faith, Charity, Prudence, Force, Justice, and Temperance, are flanked by eight smaller ones, placed in carved niches; while, above them, are the twelve Apostles, not less beautifully executed.[47] On gazing at this splendid monument of ancient piety and liberality--and with one's mind deeply intent upon the characters of the deceased--let us fancy we hear the sound of the GREAT BELL from the south-west tower ... called the _Amboise Tower_ ... erected, both the bell and the tower, by the uncle and minister AMBOISE. Know, my dear friend, that there was _once_ a bell, (and the largest in Europe, save one) which used to send forth its sound, for three successive centuries, from the said tower. This bell was broken about thirty years ago, and destroyed in the ravages of the immediately succeeding years.[48] The south-west tower remains, and the upper part of the central tower, with the whole of the lofty wooden spire:--the fruits of the liberality of the excellent men of whom such honourable mention has been made. Considering that this spire is very lofty, and composed of wood, _it is surprising that it has not been destroyed by tempest, or by lightning_.[49] The taste of it is rather capricious than beautiful. I have not yet done with the monuments, or rather have only commenced the account of them.[50] Examine yonder recumbent figure, to the left of the altar, opposite the splendid monument upon which I have just been dilating. It is lying upon its back, with a ghastly expression of countenance, representing the moment when the last breath has escaped from the body. It is the figure of the Grand SENESCHAL DE BREZE,[51]--Governor of Rouen, and husband of the celebrated DIANE DE POICTIERS--that thus claims our attention. This figure is quite naked, lying upon its back, with the right hand placed on the stomach, but in an action which indicates _life_--and therefore it is in bad taste, as far as truth is concerned; for the head being fallen back, much shrunken, and with a ghastly expression of countenance--indicating that some time has elapsed since it breathed its last--the hand could not rest in this position. The cenotaph is of black marble, disfigured by the names of idle visitors who choose to leave such impertinent memorials behind. The famous GOUJON is supposed to be the sculptor of the figure, which is painfully clever, but it strikes me as being too small. At any rate, the arms and body seem to be too strong and fleshy for the shrunken and death-stricken expression of the countenance. Above the Seneschal, thus prostrate and lifeless, there is another and a very clever representation of him, on a smaller scale, on horseback. On each side of this figure (which has not escaped serious injury) are two females in white marble; one representing the VIRGIN, and the other DIANE DE POICTIERS:[52] they are little more than half the size of life. The whole is in the very best style of the sculpture of the time of Francis I. These precious specimens of art, as well as several other similar remains, were carried away during the revolution, to a place of safety. The choir is spacious, and well adapted to its purposes; but who does not grieve to see the Archbishop's stall, once the most curious and costly, of the Gothic order, and executed at the end of the XVth century, transformed into a stately common-place canopy, supported by columns of chestnut-wood carved in the Grecian style? The LIBRARY, which used to terminate the north transept, is--not gone--but transferred. A fanciful stair-case, with an appropriate inscription,[53] yet attest that it was formerly an appendage to that part of the edifice. Before I quit the subject of the cathedral, I must not fail to tell you something relating to the rites performed therein. Let us quit therefore the dead for the living. Of course we saw, here, a repetition of the ceremonies observed at Dieppe; but previously to the feast of the _Ascension_ we were also present at the confirmation of three hundred boys and three hundred girls, each very neatly and appropriately dressed, in a sort of sabbath attire, and each holding a lighted wax taper in the hand. The girls were dressed in white, with white veils; and the rich lent veils to those who had not the means of purchasing them. The cathedral, especially about the choir, was crowded to excess. I hired a chair, stood up, and gazed as earnestly as the rest. The interest excited among the parents, and especially the mothers, was very striking. "Voila la petite--qu'elle a l'air charmant!--le petit ange!"....A stir is made ... they rise... and approach, in the most measured order, the rails of the choir ... There they deposit their tapers. The priests, very numerous, extinguish them as dexterously as they can; and the whole cathedral is perfumed with the mixed scent of the wax and frankincense. The boys, on approaching the altar, and giving up their tapers, kneel down; then shut their eyes, open their mouths; and the priests deposit the consecrated wafer upon their tongues. The procession now took a different direction. They all went into the nave, where a sermon was preached to the young people, expressly upon the occasion, by a Monsieur Quillebeuf, a canon of the cathedral, and a preacher of considerable popularity. He had one of the most meagre and forbidding physiognomies I ever beheld, and his beard was black and unshaven. But he preached well; fluently, and even eloquently: making a very singular, but not ungraceful, use of his left arm--and displaying at times rather a happy familiarity of manner, wholly exempt from vulgarity, and well suited to the capacities and feelings of his youthful audience. His subject was "belief in Christ Jesus;" on which he gave very excellent proofs and evidences. His voice was thin, but clear, and distinctly heard. And now, my dear Friend, if you are not tired with this détour of the CATHEDRAL, suppose we take a promenade to the next most important ecclesiastical edifice in the city of Rouen. What say you therefore to a stroll to the ABBEY of ST. OUEN? "Willingly," methinks I hear you reply. To the abbey therefore let us go. Leaving the Cathedral, you pass a beautifully sculptured fountain (of the early time of Francis I.) which stands at the corner of a street, to the right; and which, from its central situation, is visited the live-long day for the sake of its limpid waters. Push on a little further; then, turning to the right, you get into a sort of square, and observe the ABBEY--or rather the _west-front_ of it, full in face of you. You gaze, and are first struck with its matchless window: call it rose, or marygold, as you please. I think, for delicacy and richness of ornament, this window is perfectly unrivalled. There is a play of line in the mullions, which, considering their size and strength, may be pronounced quite a master-piece of art. You approach, regretting the neglected state of the lateral towers, and enter, through the large and completely-opened centre doors, the nave of the Abbey. It was towards sun-set when we made our first entrance. The evening was beautiful; and the variegated tints of sun-beam, admitted through the stained glass of the window, just noticed, were perfectly enchanting. The window itself, as you look upwards, or rather as you fix your eye upon the centre of it, from the remote end of the Abbey, or the _Lady's Chapel_, was a perfect blaze of dazzling light: and nave, choir, and side aisles, seemed magically illumined ... Seemed all on fire--within, around; Deep sacristy and altar's pale; Shone every pillar foliage-bound.... _Lay of the Last Minstrel_. We declared instinctively that the ABBEY OF ST. OUEN could hardly have a rival;--certainly not a superior. [Illustration] As the evening came on, the gloom of almost every side chapel and recess was rendered doubly impressive by the devotion of numerous straggling supplicants; and invocations to the presiding spirit of the place, reached the ears and touched the hearts of the bystanders. The grand western entrance presents you with the most perfect view of the choir--a magical circle, or rather oval--flanked by lofty and clustered pillars, and free from the surrounding obstruction of screens, &c. Nothing more airy and more captivating of the kind can be imagined. The finish and delicacy of these pillars are quite surprising. Above, below, around--every thing is in the purest style of the XIVth and XVth centuries. The central tower is a tower of beauty as well as of strength. Yet in regard to further details, connected with the interior, it must be admitted that there is very little more which is deserving of particular description; except it be _the gallery_, which runs within the walls of the nave and choir, and which is considerably more light and elegant than that of the cathedral. A great deal has been said about the circular windows at the end of the south transept, and they are undoubtedly elegant: but compared with the one at the extremity of the nave, they are rather to be noticed from the tale attached to them, than from their positive beauty. The tale, my friend, is briefly this. These windows were finished (as well as the larger one at the west front) about the year 1439. One of them was executed by the master-mason, the other by his apprentice; and on being criticised by competent judges, the performance of the _latter_ was said to eclipse that of the former. In consequence, the master became jealous and revengeful, and actually poniarded his apprentice. He was of course tried, condemned, and executed; but an existing monument to his memory attests the humanity of the monks in giving him Christian interment.[54] On the whole, it is the absence of all obtrusive and unappropriate ornament which gives to the interior of this building that light, unencumbered, and faery-like effect which so peculiarly belongs to it, and which creates a sensation that I never remember to have felt within any other similar edifice. Let me however put in a word for the _Organ_. It is immense, and perhaps larger than that belonging to the Cathedral. The tin pipes (like those of the organ in the Cathedral) are of their natural colour. I paced the pavement beneath, and think that this organ cannot be short of forty English feet in length. Indeed, in all the churches which I have yet seen, the organs strike me as being of magnificent dimensions. You should be informed however that the extreme length of the interior, from the further end of the Chapel of the Virgin, to its opposite western extremity, is about four hundred and fifty English feet; while the height, from the pavement to the roof of the nave, or the choir, is one hundred and eight English feet. The transepts are about one hundred and forty feet in length. The central tower, upon the whole, is not only the grandest tower in Rouen, but there is nothing for its size in our own country that can compare with it. It rises upwards of one hundred feet above the roof of the church; and is supported below, or rather within, by four magnificent cluster-pillared bases, each about thirty-two feet in circumference. Its area, at bottom, can hardly be less than thirty-six feet square. The choir is flanked by flying buttresses, which have a double tier of small arches, altogether "marvellous and curious to behold." I could not resist stealing quietly round to the porch of the _south transept_, and witnessing, in that porch, one of the most chaste, light, and lovely specimens of Gothic architecture, which can be contemplated. Indeed, I hardly know any thing like it.[55] The leaves of the poplar and ash were beginning to mantle the exterior; and, seen through their green and gay lattice work, the traceries of the porch seemed to assume a more interesting aspect. They are now mending the upper part of the façade with new stone of peculiar excellence--but it does not harmonise with the old work. They merit our thanks, however, for the preservation of what remains of this precious pile. I should remark to you that the eastern and north-eastern sides of the abbey of St. Ouen are surrounded with promenades and trees: so that, occasionally, either when walking, or sitting upon the benches, within these gardens, you catch one of the finest views imaginable of the abbey. At this early season of the year, much company is assembled every evening in these walks: while, in front of the abbey, or in the square facing the western end, the national guard is exercised in the day time--and troops of fair nymphs and willing youths mingle in the dance on a sabbath evening, while a platform is erected for the instrumental performers, and for the exhibition of feats of legerdemain. You must not take leave of St. Ouen without being told that, formerly, the French Kings used occasionally to "make revel" within the Abbot's house. Henry II, Charles IX, and Henry III, each took a fancy to this spot--but especially the famous HENRI QUATRE. It is reported that that monarch sojourned here for four months--- and his reply to the address of the aldermen and sheriff of Rouen is yet preserved both in MS. and by engravings. "The King having arrived at St. Ouen (says an old MS.)[56] the keys of the tower were presented to him, in the presence of M. de Montpensier, the governor of the province, upon a velvet-cushion. The keys were gilt. The King took them, and replacing them in the hands of the governor, said--"Mon cousin, je vous les baille pour les rendre, qu'ils les gardent;"--then, addressing the aldermen, he added, "Soyez moi bons sujets et je vous serai bon Roi, et le meilleur Roi que vous ayez jamais eu." Next to the Abbey of St. Ouen, "go by all means and see the church _St. Maclou_"--say your friends and your guides. The Abbé Turquier accompanied me thither. The great beauties of St. Maclou are its tower and its porch. Of the tower, little more than the lantern remains. This is about 160 English feet in height. Above it was a belfry or steeple, another 110 feet in height, constructed of wood and lead--but which has been nearly destroyed for the sake of the lead,--for the purpose of slaughter or resistance during the late revolution.[57] The exteriors of the porches are remarkable for their elaborate ornaments; especially those in the _Rue Martainville._ They are highly praised by the inhabitants, and are supposed to be after the models of the famous Goujon. Perhaps they are rather encumbered with ornament, and want that quiet effect, and pure good taste, which we see in the porches of the Cathedral and of the Abbey St. Ouen. However, let critics determine as they will upon this point--they must at least unite in reprobating the barbarous edict which doomed these delicate pieces of sculptured art to be deluged with an over-whelming tint of staring yellow ochre! Of the remaining churches, I shall mention only four: two of them chiefly remarkable for their interior, and two for their extreme antiquity. Of the two former, that of _St. Vincent_ presents you with a noble organ, with a light choir profusely gilded, and (rarer accompaniment!) in very excellent taste. But the stained glass is the chief magnet of attraction. It is rich, varied, and vivid to a degree; and, upon the whole, is the finest specimen of this species of art in the present ecclesiastical remains of the city. _St. Vivien_ is the second of these two former. It is a fine open church, with a large organ, having a very curious wooden screen in front, elaborately carved, and, as I conceive, of the very earliest part of the sixteenth century. I ascended the organ-loft; and the door happening to be open, I examined this screen (which has luckily escaped the yellow-ochre edict) very minutely, and was much gratified by the examination. Such pieces of art, so situated, are of rare occurrence. For the first time, within a parish church, I stepped upon the pavement of the choir: walked gently forwards, to the echo of my own footsteps, (for not a creature was in the church) and, "with no unhallowed hand" I would hope, ventured to open the choral or service book, resting upon its stand. It was wide, thick, and ponderous: upon vellum: beautifully written and well executed in every respect, with the exception of the illuminations which were extremely indifferent. I ought to tell you that the doors of the churches, abroad, are open at all times of the day: the ancient or more massive door, or portal, is secured from shutting; but a temporary, small, shabby wooden door, covered with dirty green baize, opening and shutting upon circular hinges, just covers the vacuum left by the absence of the larger one. Of the two ancient churches, above alluded to, that of _St. Gervais_, is situated considerably to the north of where the _Boulevards Cauchoise_ and _Bouvreuil_ meet. It was hard by this favourite spot, say the Norman historians, that the ancient Dukes of Normandy built their country-houses: considering it as a _lieu de plaisance._ Here too it was that the Conqueror came to breathe his last--desiring to be conveyed thither, from his palace in the city, for the benefit of the pure air.[58] I walked with M. Le Prevost to this curious church: having before twice seen it. But the _Crypt_ is the only thing worth talking about, on the score of antiquity. The same accomplished guide bade me remark the extraordinary formation of the capitals of the pillars: which, admitting some perversity of taste in a rude, Norman, imitative artist, are decidedly of Roman character. "Perhaps," said M. Le Prevost, "the last efforts of Roman art previous to the relinquishment of the Romans." Among these capitals there is one of the perfect Doric order; while in another you discover the remains of two Roman eagles. The columns are all of the same height; and totally unlike every thing of the kind which I have seen or heard of. We descended the hill upon which _St. Gervais_ is built, and walked onward towards _St. Paul_, situated at the further and opposite end of the town, upon a gentle eminence, just above the Banks of the Seine.[59] M. Le Prevost was still our conductor. This small edifice is certainly of remote antiquity, but I suspect it to be completely Norman. The eastern end is full of antiquarian curiosities. We observed something like a Roman mask as the centre ornament upon the capital of one of the circular figures; and Mr. Lewis made a few slight drawings of one of the grotesque heads in the exterior, of which the hair is of an uncommon fashion. The _Saxon whiskers_ are discoverable upon several of these faces. Upon the whole, it is possible that parts of this church may have been built at the latter end of the tenth century, after the Normans had made themselves completely masters of this part of the kingdom; yet it is more probable that there is no vestige left which claims a more ancient date than that of the end of the eleventh century. I ought just to notice the church of _St. Sever_,[60] supposed by some to be yet more ancient: but I had no opportunity of taking a particular survey of it. Thus much, or rather thus little, respecting the ECCLESIASTICAL ANTIQUITIES of Rouen. They merit indeed a volume of themselves. This city could once boast of upwards of _thirty parish churches_; of which very nearly a _dozen_ have been recently (I mean during the Revolution) converted into _warehouses_. It forms a curious, and yet melancholy mélange--this strange misappropriation of what was formerly held most sacred, to the common and lowest purposes of civil life! You enter these warehouses, or offices of business, and see the broken shaft, the battered capital, and half-demolished altar-piece--the gilded or the painted frieze--in the midst of bales of goods--casks, ropes, and bags of cotton: while, without, the same spirit of demolition prevails in the fractured column, and tottering arch way. Thus time brings its changes and decays--premature as well as natural: and the noise of the car-men and injunctions of the clerk are now heard, where formerly there reigned a general silence, interrupted only by the matin or evening chaunt! I deplored this sort of sacrilegious adaptation, to a respectable-looking old gentleman, sitting out of doors upon a chair, and smoking his pipe--"c'est dommage, Monsieur, qu'on a converti l'église à"--He stopped me: raised his left hand: then took away his pipe with his right; gave a gentle whiff, and shrugging up his shoulders, half archly and half drily exclaimed--"Mais que voulez vous, Monsieur?--ce sont des événemens qu'on ne peut ni prévoir ni prévenir. Voilà ce que c'est!" Leaving you to moralize upon this comfortable morceau of philosophy, consider me ever, &c. [36] A most ample and correct view of this west front will be found in Mr. _Cotman's Norman Antiquities_. [37] It is about 180 English feet in width, by about 150 in the highest part of its elevation. The plates which I saw at Mr. Frere's, bookseller, upon the Quai de Paris, from the drawings of Langlois, were very inadequate representations of the building. [38] The ravages committed by the Calvinists throughout nearly the whole of the towns in Normandy, and especially in the cathedrals, towards the year 1560, afford a melancholy proof of the effects of RELIGIOUS ANIMOSITY. But the Calvinists were bitter and ferocious persecutors. Pommeraye, in his quarto volume, _Histoire de l'Eglise Cathedrale de Rouen_, 1686, has devoted nearly one hundred pages to an account of Calvinistic depredations. [39] [Mr. Cotman has a plate of the elevation of the front of this south transept; and a very minute and brilliant one will be found in the previous edition of this Tour--by Mr. Henry le Keux: for which that distinguished Artist received the sum of 100 guineas. The remuneration was well merited.] [40] [Mons. Licquet says each clustered pillar contains thirty-one columns.] [41] This chapel is about ninety-five English feet in length, by thirty in width, and sixty in heighth. The sprawling painting by Philippe de Champagne, at the end of it, has no other merit than that of covering so many square feet of wall. The architecture of this chapel is of the XIVth century: the stained glass windows are of the latter end of the XVth. On completing the circuit of the cathedral, one is surprised to count not fewer than _twenty-five_ chapels. [42] [Mons. Licquet is paraphrastically warm in his version, here. He renders it thus: "les atteintes effroyables du vandalisme révolutionaire," vol. i. p. 64.] [43] Sandford, after telling us that he thinks there "never was any portraiture" of the Duke, thus sums up his character. "He was justly accounted one of the best generals that ever blossomed out of the royal stem of PLANTAGENET. His valour was not more terrible to his enemies than his memory honourable; for (doubtful whether with more glory to him, or to the speaker) King Lewis the Eleventh being counselled by certain envious persons to deface his tomb (wherein with him, saith one, was buried all English men's good fortune in France) used these indeed princely words: 'What honour shall it be to us, or you, to break this monument, and to pull out of the ground the bones of HIM, whom, in his life time, neither my father nor your progenitors, with all their puissance, were once able to make flie a foot backwarde? who, by his strength, policy and wit kept them all out of the principal dominions of France, and out of this noble duchy of Normandy? Wherefore, I say first, GOD SAVE HIS SOUL; and let his body now lie in rest, which when he was alive, would have disquieted the proudest of us all. And for THIS TOMB, I assure you it is not so worthy or convenient as his honour and acts have deserved.'" p. 314-5, Ed. 1707[A] The famous MISSAL, once in the possession of this celebrated nobleman, and containing the only authenticated portrait of him (which is engraved in the _Bibliog. Decameron_, vol. i. p. cxxxvii.) is now the property of John Milner, Esq. of York Place, Portman Square, who purchased it of the Duke of Marlborough. The Duke had purchased it at the sale of the library of the late James Edwards, Esq. for 687l. 15s. [A] [Upon this, Mons. Licquet, with supposed shrewdness and success, remarks,--"All very well: but we must not forget that the innocent Joan of Arc was burnt alive--thanks to this said Duke of Bedford, as every one knows!"] [44] [A different tale may be told of ONE of his Successors in the same Anglo-Norman pursuit. The expenses attending the graphic embellishments alone of the previous edition of this work, somewhat exceeded the sum of _four thousand seven hundred pounds._ The risk was entirely my own. The result was the loss of about 200l.: exclusively of the expences incurred in travelling about 2000 miles. The _copper-plates_ (notwithstanding every temptation, and many entreaties, to _multiply_ impressions of several of the subjects engraved) were DESTROYED. There may be something more than a mere negative consolation, in finding that the work is RISING in price, although its author has long ceased to partake of any benefit resulting from it.] [45] A plate of this Monument is published in the Tour of Normandy by Dawson Turner, Esq. [46] The Cardinal died in his fiftieth year only; and his funeral was graced and honoured by the presence of his royal master. Guicciardini calls him "the oracle and right arm of Louis." Of eight brothers, whom he left behind, four attained to the episcopal rank. His nephew succeeded him as Archbishop. See also _Historia Genealogica Magnatum Franciae_; vol. vii. p. 129; quoted in the _Gallia Christiana_, vol. xi. col. 96. It was during the archiepiscopacy of the successor of the nephew of Amboise--namely, that of CHARLES of BOURBON--that the _Calvanistic persecution_ commenced. "Tunc vero coepit civitas, dioecesis, universaque provincia lamentabilem in modum conflictari, saevientibus ob religionis dissidia plusquam civilibus bellis," &c. But then the good Archbishop, however bountiful he might have been towards the poor at _Roncesvalles_, (when he escorted Philip II.'s first wife Elizabeth, daughter of Henry II. to the confines of Spain, after he had married her to that wretched monarch) should not have inflamed the irritated minds of the Calvinists, by BURNING ALIVE, in 1559, _John Cottin_, one of their most eminent preachers, by way of striking terror into the rest! Well might the Chronicler observe, as the result, "novas secta illa in dies acquirebat vires." About 1560-2, the Calvinists got the upper hand; and repaid the Catholics with a vengeance. Charles of Bourbon died in 1590: so that he had an arduous and agitated time of it. [47] How long will this monument--(matchless of its kind)--continue unrepresented by the BURIN? If Mr. Henry Le Keux were to execute it in his best style, the world might witness in it a piece of Art entirely perfect of its kind. But let the pencils of Messrs. Corbould and Blore be first exercised on the subject. In the mean while, why is GALLIC ART inert? [48] The choir was formerly separated from the surrounding chapels, or rather from the space between it and the chapels, by a superb brass grating, full of the most beautiful arabesque ornaments--another testimony of the magnificent spirit of the Cardinal and Prime Minister of Louis XII.: whose arms, as well as the figure of his patron, St. George, were seen in the centre of every compartment ... The Revolution has not left a vestige behind! [49] [In this edition, I put the above passage in _Italics_,--to mark, that, within three years of writing it, the spire was consumed by LIGHTNING. The newspapers of both France and England were full of this melancholy event; and in the year 1823, Monsieur Hyacinthe Langlois, of Rouen, published an account of it, together with some views (indifferently lithographised) of the progress of the burning. "It should seem (says Mons. Licquet) that the author had a presentiment of what was speedily to take place:--for the rest, the same species of destruction threatens all similar edifices, for the want of conductors." I possess a fragment of the lead of the roof, as it was collected after a state of _fusion_--and sent over to me by some friend at Rouen. The fusion has caused portions of the lead to assume a variety of fantastic shapes--not _altogether_ unlike a gothic building.] [50] Let me add that the whole length of the cathedral is about four hundred and forty feet; and the transept about one hundred and seventy-five; English measure. The height of the nave is about ninety, and of the lantern one hundred and sixty-eight feet, English. The length of the nave is two hundred and twenty-eight feet. [51] He died in 1531. Both the ancient and yet existing inscriptions are inserted by Gilbert, from Pommeraye and Farin; and formerly there was seen, in the middle of the monument, the figure of the Seneschal habited as a Count, with all the insignia of his dignity. But this did not outlive the Revolution. [52] It must be admitted that Diana, when she caused the verses _Indivulsa tibi quondam et fidissima conjux Vt fuit in thalamo, sic erit in tumulo_. to be engraved upon the tomb of the Seneschal, might well have "moved the bile" of the pious Benedictine Pommeraye, and have excited the taunting of Ducarel, when they thought upon her subsequent connexion, in the character of mistress, with Henry the Second of France. Henry however endeavoured to compensate for his indiscretions by the pomp and splendor of his processions. Rouen, so celebrated of old for the entries of Kings and Nobles, seems to have been in a perfect blaze of splendor upon that of the Lover of Diana--"qui fut plus magnifique que toutes celles qu'on avoit vu jusqu'alors:" see _Farin's Hist. de la Ville de Rouen_, vol. i. p. 121, where there is a singularly minute and gay account of all the orders and degrees of citizens--(with their gorgeous accoutrements of white plumes, velvet hats, rich brocades, and curiously wrought taffetas) of whom the processions were composed. It must have been a perfectly dramatic sight, upon the largest possible scale. It was from respect to the character or the memory of DIANA, that so many plaster-representations of her were erected on the exteriors of buildings: especially of those within small squares or quadrangles. In wandering about Rouen, I stumbled upon several old mansions of this kind. [53] The inscription is this: _Si quem sancta tenet meditandi in lege voluntas, Hic poterit residens, sacris intendere libris_. Pommeraye has rather an interesting gossiping chapter [Chap. xxii.] "De la Bibliothêque de la Cathédrale;" p. 163: to which FRANÇOIS DE HARLAY, about the year 1630, was one of the most munificent benefactors. [54] _Christian interment_.]--"Les Religieux de Saint Ouen touchez de compassion envers ce malheureux artisan, obtinrent son corps de la justice, et pour reconnoissance des bons services qu'il leur avoit rendus dans la construction de leur église, nonobstant sa fin tragique, ne laissèrent pas de luy fair l'honneur de l'inhumer dans la chapelle de sainte Agnes, ou sa tombe se voit encore auec cet Epitaphe: _Cy gist_ M. ALEXANDRE DE BERNEUAL, _Maistre des oeuvres de Massonnerie._ [55] Even Dr. Ducarel became warm--on contemplating this porch! "The porch at the south entrance into the church (says he) is much more worthy of the spectator's attention, being highly enriched with architectonic ornaments; particularly two beautiful cul de lamps, which from the combination of a variety of spiral dressings, as they hang down from the vaulted roof, produce a very pleasing effect." p. 28. [56] Consult the account given by M. Le Prevost in the "_Précis Analytique des Travaux de l'Academie, &c. de Rouen_," for the year 1816, p. 151, &c. [57] Farin tells us that you could go from the top of the lantern to the cross, or to the summit of the belfry, "outside, without a ladder; so admirable was the workmanship." "Strangers (adds he) took models of it for the purpose of getting them engraved, and they were sold publicly at Rome." _Hist. de la Ville de Rouen_, 1738, 4to. vol. ii. p. 154. There are thirteen chapels within this church; of which however the building cannot be traced lower than quite the beginning of the XVIth century. The extreme length and width of the interior is about 155 by 82 feet English. Even in Du Four's time the population of this parish was very great, and its cemetery (adds he) was the first and most regular in Rouen. He gives a brief, but glowing description of it--"on va tout autour par des galeries couvertes et pavées; et, deux de ces galeries sont decorées de deux autels," &c. p. 150. Alas! time--or the revolution--has annihilated all this. Let me however add that M. COTMAN has published a view of the _staircase_ in the church of which I am speaking. [58] Ordericus Vitalis says, that the dying monarch requested to be conveyed thither, to avoid the noise and bustle of a populous town. Rouen is described to be, in _his_ time, "populosa civitas." Consult Duchesne's _Historiæ Normannor. Scrip. Antiq._ p.656. [59] A view of it is published by M. Cotman. [60] _St. Sever_. This church is situated in the southern fauxbourgs, by the side of the Seine, and was once surrounded by gardens, &c. As you cross the bridge of boats, and go to the race-ground, you leave it to the right; but it is not so old as _St. Paul_--where, Farin says, the worship of ADONIS was once performed! LETTER VI. HALLES DE COMMERCE. PLACE DE LA PUCELLE D'ORLEANS (JEANNE D'ARC.) BASSO-RILIEVO OF THE CHAMP DE DRAP D'OR. PALACE AND COURTS OF JUSTICE. You must make up your mind to see a few more sights in the city of Rouen, before I conduct you to the environs, or to the summit of _Mont St. Catherine_. We must visit some relics of antiquity, and take a yet more familiar survey of the town, ere we strive ... superas evadere ad auras. Indeed the information to be gained well merits the toil endured in its acquisition. The only town in England that can give you any notion of Rouen, is CHESTER; although the similitude holds only in some few particulars. I must, in the first place then, make especial mention of the HALLES DE COMMERCE. The _markets_ here are numerous and abundant, and are of all kinds. Cloth, cotton, lace, linen, fish, fruit, vegetables, meat, corn, and wine; these for the exterior and interior of the body. Cattle, wood, iron, earthenware, seeds, and implements of agriculture; these for the supply of other necessities considered equally important. Each market has its appropriate site. For picturesque effect, you must visit the _Vieux Marché_, for vegetables and fish; which is kept in an open space, once filled by the servants and troops of the old Dukes of Normandy, having the ancient ducal palace in front. This is the fountain head whence the minor markets are supplied. Every stall has a large old tattered sort of umbrella spread above it, to ward off the rain or rays of heat; and, seen from some points of view, the effect of all this, with the ever-restless motion of the tongues and feet of the vendors, united to their strange attire, is exceedingly singular and interesting. Leaving the old market place, you pass on to the _Marché Neuf_, where fruits, eggs, and butter are chiefly sold. At this season of the year there is necessarily little or no fruit, but I could have filled one coat pocket with eggs for less than half a franc. While on the subject of buying and selling, let us go to the _Halles_ of _Rouen_; being large public buildings now exclusively appropriated to the sale of cloths, linen, and the varied _et-ceteras_ of mercery. These are at once spacious and interesting in a high degree. They form the divisions of the open spaces, or squares, where the markets just mentioned are held; and were formerly the appurtenances of the palaces and chateaux of the old Dukes of Normandy: the _latter_ of which are now wholly demolished. You must rise betimes on a Friday morning, to witness a sight of which you can have no conception in England: unless it be at a similar scene in _Leeds_. By six o'clock the busy world is in motion within these halls. Then commences the incessant and inconceivable vociferation of buying and selling. The whole scene is alive, and carried on in several large stone-arched rooms, supported by a row of pillars in the centre. Of these halls, the largest is about three hundred and twenty English feet in length, by fifty-five in width. The centre, in each division, contains tables and counters for the display of cloth, cotton, stuff, and linen of all descriptions. The display of divers colours--the commendations bestowed by the seller, and the reluctant assent of the purchaser--the animated eye of the former, and the calculating brow of the latter--the removal of one set of wares, and the bringing on of another--in short, the never-ceasing succession of sounds and sights astonishes the gravity of an Englishman; whose astonishment is yet heightened by the extraordinary good humour which every where prevails. The laugh, the joke, the équivoque, and reply, were worth being recorded in pointed metre;--and what metre but that of Crabbe could possibly render it justice? By nine of the clock all is hushed. The sale is over: the goods are cleared; and both buyers and sellers have quitted the scene. From _still_, let me conduct you to _active_ life. In other words, let us hasten to take a peep at the _Horse and Cattle Market_; which is fixed in the very opposite part of the town; that is, towards the northern Boulevards. The horses are generally entire: and indeed you have scarcely any thing in England which exceeds the _Norman horse_, properly so understood. This animal unites the hardiness of the mule with the strength of his own particular species. He is also docile, and well trained; and a Norman, from pure affection, thinks he can never put enough harness upon his back. I have seen the face and shoulders of a cart-horse almost buried beneath a profusion of ornament by way of collar; and have beheld a farmer's horse, led out to the plough, with trappings as gorgeous and striking as those of a General's charger brought forward for a review. The carts and vehicles are usually balanced in the centre upon two wheels, which diminishes much of the pressure upon the horse. Yet the caps of the wheels are frightfully long, and inconveniently projecting: while the eternally loud cracking of the whip is most repulsive to nervous ears. On market days, the horses stand pretty close to each other for sale; and are led off, for shew, amidst boys, girls, and women, who contrive very dexterously to get out of the way of their active hoofs. The French seem to have an instinctive method of doing that, which, with ourselves, seems to demand forethought and deliberation. Of the STREETS, in this extraordinary city, that of the _Great Clock--(Rue de la Grosse Horloge)_ which runs in a straight line from the western front of the Cathedral, at right angles with the _Rue des Carmes_, is probably the most important, ancient, and interesting. When we were conveyed, on our entrance, (in the cabriolet of the Diligence) beneath the arch to the upper part of which this old fashioned clock is attached, we were lost in admiration at the singularity of the scene. The inhabitants saw, and enjoyed, our astonishment. There is a fountain beneath, or rather on one side of this arch; over which is sculptured a motley group of insipid figures, of the latter time of Louis XIV. The old tower near this clock merits a leisurely survey: as do also some old houses, to the right, on looking at it. It was within this old tower that a bell was formerly tolled, at nine o'clock each evening, to warn the inhabitants abroad to return within the walls of the city.[61] Turning to the left, in this street, and going down a sharp descent, we observed a stand of hackney coaches in a small square, called _La Place de la Pucelle_: that is, the place where the famous JEANNE D'ARC[62] was imprisoned, and afterwards burnt. What sensations possess us as we gaze on each surrounding object!--although, now, each surrounding object has undergone a palpable change! Ah, my friend--what emotions were _once_ excited within this small space! What curiosity, and even agony of mind, mingled with the tumults of indignation, the shouts of revenge, and the exclamations of pity! But life now goes on just the same as if nothing of the kind had happened here. The past is forgotten. This hapless Joan of Arc is one of the many, who, having been tortured as heretics, have been afterwards reverenced as martyrs. Her statue was, not very long after her execution, almost _adored_ upon that very spot where her body had been consigned with execrations to the flames. The square, in which this statue stands, contains probably one of the very oldest houses in Rouen--and as interesting as it is ancient. It is invisible from without: but you open a wooden gate, and quickly find yourself within a small quadrangle, having three of its sides covered with basso-rilievo figures in plaster. That side which faces you is evidently older than the left: indeed I have no hesitation in assigning it to the end of the XVth century. The clustered ornaments of human figures and cattle, with which the whole of the exterior is covered, reminds us precisely of those numerous little wood-cut figures, chiefly pastoral, which we see in the borders of printed missals of the same period. The taste which prevails in them is half French and half Flemish. Not so is the character of the plaster figures which cover the _left_ side on entering. These, my friend, are no less than the representation of the procession of Henry VIII. and Francis I. to the famous CHAMP DE DRAP D'OR: of which Montfaucon[63] has published engravings. Having carefully examined this very curious relic, of the beginning of the sixteenth century, I have no hesitation in pronouncing the copy of Montfaucon (or rather of the artist employed by him) to be most egregiously faithless. I visited it again and again, considering it to be worth all the "huge clocks" in Rouen put together. I hardly know how to take you from this interesting spot--from this exhibition of beautiful old art--especially too when I consider that Francis himself once occupied the mansion, and held a Council here, with both English and French; that his bugles once sounded from beneath the gate way, and that his goblets once sparkled upon the chestnut tables of the great hall. I do hope and trust that the Royal Academy of Rouen, will not suffer this architectural relic to perish, without leaving behind a substantial and faithful representation of it.[64] While upon the subject of ancient edifices, let me return; and, crossing the _Rue de la Grosse Horloge_, contrive to place you in the centre of the square which is formed by the PALAIS DE JUSTICE. The inhabitants consider this building as the principal _lion_ in their city. It has indeed claims to notice and admiration, but will not bear the severe scrutiny of a critic in Gothic architecture. It was partly erected by Louis XII. at the entreaty of the provincial States, through the interest of the famous Cardinal d'Amboise, and partly by Francis I. This building precisely marks the restoration of Gothic taste in France, and the peculiar style of architecture which prevailed in the reign of Francis I. To say the truth, this style, however sparkling and imposing, is objectionable in many respects: for it is, in the first place, neither pure Gothic nor pure Grecian--but an injudicious mixture of both. Greek arabesque borders are running up the sides of a portal terminating in a Gothic arch; and the Gothic ornaments themselves are not in the purest, or the most pleasing, taste. Too much is given to parts, and too little to the whole. The external ornaments are frequently heavy, from their size and elaborate execution; and they seem to be _stuck on_ to the main building without rhyme or reason. The criminal offences are tried in the hall to the right, and the prisoners are confined in the lower part of the building to the left: above which you mount by a flight of stone steps, which conducts you to a singularly curious hall,[65] about one hundred and seventy-five English feet in length--roofed by wooden ribs, in the form of an arch, and displaying a most curious and exact specimen of carpenter's work. This is justly shewn and commented upon to the enquiring traveller. Parts of the building are devoted to the courts of assize, and to tribunals of audience of almost every description. The first Presidents of the Parliament lived formerly in the building which faces you upon entrance, but matters have now taken a very different turn. Upon the whole, this _Town Hall_, or call it what you will, is rather a magnificent structure; and certainly superior to most provincial buildings of the kind which we possess in England. I should tell you that the courts for commercial causes are situated near the quays, at the south part of the town: and Monsieur Riaux, who conducted me thither, (and who possesses the choicest library[66] of antiquarian books, of all descriptions, relating to Rouen, which I had the good fortune to see) carried me to the _Hall of Commerce_, which, among other apartments, contains a large chamber (contiguous to the Court of Justice) covered with _fleurs de lys_ upon a light blue ground. It is now however much in need of reparation. Fresh lilies and a new ground are absolutely necessary to harmonise with a large oil-painting at one end of it, in which is represented the reception of Louis XVI. at Rouen by the Mayor and Deputies of the town, in 1786. All the figures are of the size of life, well painted after the originals, and appear to be strong resemblances. On enquiring how many of them were now living, I was told that--ALL WERE DEAD! The fate of the _principal_ figure is but too well known. They should have this interesting subject--interesting undoubtedly to the inhabitants--executed by one of their best engravers. It represents the unfortunate Louis quite in the prime of life; and is the best whole length portrait of him which I have yet seen in painting or in engraving. It is right however that you should know, that, in the Tribunal for the determination of commercial causes, there sits a very respectable Bench of Judges: among whom I recognised one that had perfectly the figure, air, and countenance, of an Englishman. On enquiry of my guide, I found my supposition verified. He _was_ an Englishman; but had been thirty years a resident in _Rouen_. The judicial costume is appropriate in every respect; but I could not help smiling, the other morning, upon meeting my friend the judge, standing before the door of his house, in the open street--with a hairy cap on--leisurely smoking his pipe--And wherein consisted the harm of such a _delassement_? [61] [I apprehend this custom to be prevalent in fortified towns:--as Rouen _formerly_ was--and as I found such custom to obtain at the present day, at Strasbourg. Mons. Licquet says that the allusion to the curfew--or _couvre-feu_--as appears in the previous edition--and which the reader well knows was established by the Conqueror with us--was no particular badge of the slavery of the English. It had been _previously_ established by William in NORMANDY. Millot is referred to as the authority.] [62] _the famous_ JEANNE D'ARC.] Goube, in the second volume of his _Histoire du Duché de Normandie_, has devoted several spiritedly written pages to an account of the trial and execution of this heroine. Her history is pretty well known to the English--from earliest youth. Goube says that her mode of death had been completely prejudged; for that, previously to the sentence being passed, they began to erect "a scaffold of plaster, so raised, that the flames could not at first reach her--and she was in consequence consumed by a slow fire: her tortures being long and horrible." Hume has been rather too brief: but he judiciously observes that the conduct of the Duke of Bedford "was equally barbarous and dishonourable." Indeed it were difficult to pronounce which is entitled to the greatest abhorrence--the imbecility of Charles VII. the baseness of John of Luxembourg, or the treachery of the Regent Bedford? The _identical_ spot on which she suffered is not now visible, according to Millin; that place having been occupied by the late _Marché des Veaux_. It was however not half a stone's throw from the site of the present statue. In the _Antiquités Nationales_ of the last mentioned author (vol. iii. art. xxxvi.) there are three plates connected with the History of JOAN of ARC. The _first_ plate represents the _Porte Bouvreuil_ to the left, and the circular old tower to the right--in which latter Joan was confined, with some houses before it; the middle ground is a complete representation of the rubbishing state by which many of the public buildings at Rouen are yet surrounded; and French taste has enlivened the foreground with a picture of a lover and his mistress, in a bocage, regaling themselves with a flagon of wine. The old circular tower ("qui vit gémir cette infortunée," says Millin) exists no longer. The second plate represents the fountain which was built in the market-place upon the very spot where the Maid suffered, and which spot was at first designated by the erection of a cross. From the style of the embellishments it appears to have been of the time of Francis I. Goube has re-engraved this fountain. It was taken down or demolished in 1755; upon the site of which was built the present tasteless production--resembling, as the author of the _Itinéraire de Rouen_ (p. 69) well observes, "rather a Pallas than the heroine of Orleans." The name of the author was STODTS. Millin's _third_ plate--of this present existing fountain, is desirable; in as much as it shews the front of the house, in the interior of which are the basso-rilievos of the _Champ de drap d'Or_: for an account of which see afterwards. Millin allows that all PORTRAITS of her--whether in sculpture, or painting, or engraving--are purely IDEAL. Perhaps the nearest, in point of fidelity, was that which was seen in a painted glass window of the church of the _Minimes_ at Chaillot: although the building was not erected till the time of Charles VIII. Yet it might have been a copy of some coeval production. In regard to oil paintings, I take it that the portrait of JUDITH, with a sword in one hand, and the head of Holofernes in the other, has been usually copied (with the omission of the latter accompaniment) as that of JEANNE D'ARC. I hardly know a more interesting collection of books than that which may be acquired respecting the fate of this equally brave and unfortunate heroine. [63] Far be it from me to depreciate the labours of Montfaucon. But those who have not the means of getting at that learned antiquarian's _Monarchie Françoise_ may possibly have an opportunity of examining precisely the same representations, of the procession above alluded to, in _Ducarel's Anglo-Norman Antiquities_, Plate XII. Till the year 1726 this extraordinary series of ornament was supposed to represent the _Council of Trent_; but the Abbé Noel, happening to find a salamander marked upon the back of one of the figures, supposed, with greater truth, that it was a representation of the abovementioned procession; and accordingly sent Montfaucon an account of the whole. The Abbé might have found more than one, two, or three salamanders, if he had looked closely into this extraordinary exterior; and possibly, in his time, the surfaces of the more delicate parts, especially of the human features, might not have sustained the injuries which time and accident now seem to have inflicted on them. [A beautiful effort in the graphic way representing the entire interior front of this interesting mansion, is said to be published at Rouen.] [64] In the previous edition of this work, there appeared a facsimile of a small portion of this bas-relief, representing--as I imagine--the setting out of Francis to meet Henry. Nothing, as far as correctness of detail goes, can give a more faithful resemblance of the PRECISE STATE in which the original appears: the defaced and the entire parts being represented with equal fidelity. Mons. Langlois has given a plate of the entire façade or front--in outline--with great ability; but so small as to give little or no notion of the character of the original. [65] In Ducarel's time, "the ground story consisted of a great quadrangle surrounded with booksellers shops. On one side of it a stone staircase led to a large and lofty room, which, in its internal as well as external appearance, resembled, though in miniature, Westminster Hall. Here (continues Ducarel) I saw several gentlemen of the long robe, in their gowns and bands, walking up and down with briefs in their hands, and making a great show of business." _Anglo-Norman Antiquities_, p. 32. [According to Mons. Licquet, this "singularly curious hall" was begun to be built in 1493. It was afterwards, and is still called, _la Salle des Procureurs_.] [66] _the choicest library_] Monsieur Riaux, Archiviste de la Chambre de Commerce. This amiable man unites a love of literature with that of architectural antiquities. The library of M. Le Prevost is however as copious as that of Mons. R. LETTER VII. THE QUAYS. BRIDGE OF BOATS. RUE DU BAC. RUE DE ROBEC. EAUX DE ROBEC ET D'AUBETTE. MONT STE. CATHARINE. HOSPICES--GÉNÉRAL ET D'HUMANITÉ. Still tarrying within this old fashioned place? I have indeed yet much to impart before I quit it, and which I have no scruple in avowing will be well deserving of your attention. Just letting you know, in few words, that I have visited the famous chemical laboratory of M. Vitalis, (_Rue Beauvoisine_) and the yet more wonderful spectacle exhibited in M. Lemere's machine for sawing wood of all descriptions, into small or large planks, by means of water works--I must take you along THE QUAYS for a few minutes. These quays are flanked by an architectural front, which, were it finished agreeably to the original plan, would present us with one of the noblest structures in Europe. This stone front was begun in the reign of Louis XV. but many and prosperous must be the years of art, of commerce, and of peace, before money sufficient can be raised for the successful completion of the pile. The quays are long, broad, and full of bustle of every description; while in some of the contiguous squares, ponderous bales of goods, shawls, cloth, and linen, are spread open to catch the observing eye. In the midst of this varied and animated scene, walks a well-known character, in his large cocked hat, and with his tin machine upon his back, filled with lemonade or coffee, surmounted by a bell--which "ever and anon" is sounded for the sake of attracting customers. He is here copied to the life. [Illustration] As you pass along this animated scene, by the side of the rapid Seine, and its _Bridge of Boats_, you cannot help glancing now and then down the narrow old-fashioned streets, which run at right angles with the quays--with the innumerable small tile-fashioned pieces of wood, like scales, upon the roofs--which seem as if they would be demolished by every blast. The narrowness and gloom of these streets, together with the bold and overwhelming projections of the upper stories and roofs, afford a striking contrast to the animated scene upon the quays:--where the sun shines with full freedom, as it were; and where the glittering streamers, at innumerable mast-heads, denote the wealth and prosperity of the town. If the day happen to be fine, you may devote half a morning in contemplating, and mingling with, so interesting a scene. We have had frequent thunder-storms of late; and the other Sunday evening, happening to be sauntering at a considerable height above the north-west Boulevards, towards the _Faubourg Cauchoise_, I gained a summit, upon the edge of a gravel pit, whence I looked down unexpectedly and precipitously upon the town below. A magnificent and immense cloud was rolling over the whole city. The Seine was however visible on the other side of it, shining like a broad silver chord: while the barren, ascending plains, through which the road to Caen passes, were gradually becoming dusk with the overshadowing cloud, and drenched with rain which seemed to be rushing down in one immense torrent. The tops of the Cathedral and of the abbey of St. Ouen were almost veiled in darkness, by the passing storm; but the lower part of the tower, and the whole of the nave of each building, were in one stream of golden light--from the last powerful rays of the setting sun. In ten minutes this magically-varied scene settled into the sober, uniform tint of evening; but I can never forget the rich bed of purple and pink, fringed with burnished gold, in which the sun of that evening set! I descended--absorbed in the recollection of the lovely objects which I had just contemplated--and regaled by the sounds of a thousand little gurgling streamlets, created by the passing tempest, and hastening to precipitate themselves into the Seine. Of the different trades, especially retail, which are carried on in Rouen with the greatest success, those connected with the _cotton manufactories_ cannot fail to claim your attention; and I fancied I saw, in some of the shop-windows, shawls and gowns which might presume to vie with our Manchester and Norwich productions. Nevertheless, I learnt that the French were extremely partial to British manufactures: and cotton stockings, coloured muslins, and what are called ginghams, are coveted by them with the same fondness as we prize their cambric and their lace. Their best articles in watches, clocks, silver ornaments, and trinkets, are obtained from Paris. But in respect to upholstery, I must do the Rouennois the justice to say, that I never saw any thing to compare with their _escrutoires_ and other articles of furniture made of the walnut tree. These upright escrutoires, or writing desks, are in almost every bed-room of the more respectable hotels: but of course their polish is gone when they become stationary furniture in an inn--for the art of rubbing, or what is called _elbow-grease_ with us--is almost unknown on either side of the Seine. You would be charmed to have a fine specimen of a side board, or an escrutoire, (the latter five or six feet high) made by one of their best cabinet-makers from choice walnut wood. The polish and tone of colour are equally gratifying; and resemble somewhat that of rose wood, but of a gayer aspect. The _or-molu_ ornaments are tastefully put on; but the general shape, or contour, of the several pieces of furniture, struck me as being in bad taste. He who wishes to be astonished by the singularity of a scene, connected with _trade_, should walk leisurely down the RUE DE ROBEC. It is surely the oddest, and as some may think, the most repulsive scene imaginable: But who that has a rational curiosity could resist such a walk? Here live the _dyers of clothes_--and in the middle of the street rushes the precipitous stream, called _L'Eau de Robec_[67]--receiving colours of all hues. To-day it is nearly jet black: to-morrow it is bright scarlet: a third day it is blue, and a fourth day it is yellow! Meanwhile it is partially concealed by little bridges, communicating with the manufactories, or with that side of the street where the work-people live: and the whole has a dismal and disagreeable aspect--especially in dirty weather: but if you go to one end of it (I think to the east--as it runs east and west) and look down upon the descending street, with the overhanging upper stories and roofs--the foreshortened, numerous bridges--the differently-coloured dyed clothes, suspended from the windows, or from poles--the constant motion of men, women, and children, running across the bridges--with the rapid, _camelion_ stream beneath--you cannot fail to acknowledge that this is one of the most singular, grotesque, and uncommon sights in the wonder-working city of Rouen. I ought to tell you that the first famous Cardinal d'Amboise (of whom the preceding pages have made such frequent honourable mention) caused the _Eau de Robec_ to be directed through the streets of Rouen, from its original channel or source in a little valley near _St. Martin du Vivien_. Formerly there was a much more numerous clan of these "teinturiers" in the Rue de Robec--but they have of late sought more capacious premises in the fauxbourgs _de St. Hilaire_ and _de Martainville_. The neighbouring sister-stream, _l'Eau d'Aubette_, is destined to the same purposes as that of which I have been just discoursing; but I do not at this moment recollect whether it be also dignified, in its course, by turning a few corn mills, ere it empties itself into the Seine. Indeed the thundering noise of one of these mills, turned by the Robec river, near the church of St. Maclou, will not be easily forgotten. Thus you see of what various, strange, and striking objects the city of Rouen is composed. Bustle, noise, life and activity, in the midst of an atmosphere unsullied by the fumes of sea coal:--hilarity and apparent contentment:--the spruce bourgeoise and the slattern fille de chambre:--attired in vestments of deep crimson and dark blue--every thing flits before you as if touched by magic, and as if sorrow and misfortune were unknown to the inhabitants. "Paullò majora canamus." In other words, let us leave the Town for the Country. Let us hurry through a few more narrow and crowded alleys, courts, and streets--and as the morning is yet beautiful, let us hasten onwards to enjoy the famous Panorama of Rouen and its environs from the MONT STE. CATHARINE.... Indeed, my friend, I sincerely wish that you could have accompanied me to the summit of this enchanting eminence: but as you are far away, you must be content with a brief description of our little expedition thither.[68] The Mont Ste. Catharine, which is entirely chalk, is considered the highest of the hills in the immediate vicinity of Rouen; or rather, perhaps, is considered the point of elevation from which the city is to be viewed to the greatest possible advantage. It lies to the left of the Seine, in your way from the town; and the ascent begins considerably beyond the barriers. Indeed it is on the route to Paris. We took an excellent _fiacre_ to carry us to the beginning of the ascent, that our legs might be in proper order for scrambling up the acclivities immediately above; and leaving the main road to the right, we soon commenced our ambulatory operations in good earnest. But there was not much labour or much difficulty: so, halting, or standing, or sitting, on each little eminence, our admiration seemed to encrease--till, gaining the highest point, looking towards the west, we found ourselves immediately above the town and the whole of its environs.... "Heavens, what a goodly prospect spread around!" The prospect was indeed "goodly--" being varied, extensive, fertile, and luxuriant ... in spite of a comparatively backward spring. The city was the main object, not only of attraction, but of astonishment. Although the point from which we viewed it is considered to be exactly on a level with the summit of the spire of the Cathedral, yet we seemed to be hanging, as it were, in the air, immediately over the streets themselves. We saw each church, each public edifice, and almost each street; nay, we began to think we could discover almost every individual stirring in them. The soldiers, exercising on the parade in the Champ de Mars, seemed to be scarcely two stones' throw from us; while the sounds of their music reached us in the most distinct and gratifying manner. No "Diable boiteux" could ever have transported a "Don Cleophas Léandro Perez Zambullo" to a more favourable situation for a knowledge of what was passing in a city; and if the houses had been unroofed, we could have almost discerned whether the _escrutoires_ were made of mahogany or walnut-wood! This wonder-working effect proceeds from the extraordinary clearness of the atmosphere, and the absence of sea-coal fume. The sky was perfectly blue--the generality of the roofs were also composed of blue slate: this, added to the incipient verdure of the boulevards, and the darker hues of the trunks of the trees, upon the surrounding hills--the lengthening forests to the left, and the numerous white "maisons de plaisance"[69] to the right--while the Seine, with its hundred vessels, immediately below, to the left, and in face of you--with its cultivated little islands--and the sweeping meadows or race-ground[70] on the other side--all, or indeed any, of these objects could not fail to excite our warmest admiration, and to make us instinctively exclaim "that such a panorama was perfectly unrivalled!" We descended Mont Ste. Catharine on the side facing the _Hospice Général_: a building of a very handsome form, and considerable dimensions. It is a noble establishment for foundlings, and the aged and infirm of both sexes. I was told that not fewer than twenty-five hundred human beings were sheltered in this asylum; a number, which equally astonished and delighted me. The descent, on this side the hill, is exceedingly pleasing; being composed of serpentine little walks, through occasional alleys of trees and shrubs, to the very base of the hill, not many hundred yards from the hospital. The architecture of this extensive building is more mixed than that of its neighbour the _Hospice d'Humanité_, on account of the different times in which portions of it were added: but, upon the whole, you are rather struck with its approach to what may be called magnificence of style. I was indeed pleased with the good order and even good breeding of its motley inhabitants. Some were strolling quietly, with their arms behind them, between rows of trees:--others were tranquilly sitting upon benches: a third group would be in motion within the squares of the building: a fourth appeared in deep consultation whether the _potage_ of to day were not inferior to that of the preceding day?--"Que cherchez vous, Monsieur?" said a fine looking old man, touching, and half taking off, his cocked hat; "I wish to see the Abbé Turquier,"--rejoined I. "Ah, il vient de sortir--par ici, Monsieur." "Thank you." "Monsieur je vous souhaite le bon jour--au plaisir de vous revoir!" And thus I paced through the squares of this vast building. The "Portier" had a countenance which our Wilkie would have seized with avidity, and copied with inimitable spirit and fidelity. [67] Bourgueville describes this river, in the sixteenth century, as being "aucune fois iaulne, autrefois rouge, verte, bleüe, violée & autres couleurs, selon qu'vn grand nombre de teinturiers qui sont dessus, la diuersifient par interualles en faisant leurs maneures." _Antiquitez de Caen_, p. 36. [68] _expedition thither_.]--When John Evelyn visited this neighbourhood, in 1644, "the country so abounded with _wolves_, that a shepherd, whom he met, told him that one of his companions was strangled by one of them the day before--and that, in the midst of the flock! The fields (continues he) are mostly planted with pears and apples and other cider fruits. It is plentifully furnished with quarries of stone and slate, and hath iron in abundance." _Memoirs of the Life and Writings of John Evelyn_, vol. i. p. 50. Edit. 1818. My friend Mr. J. H. Markland visited Mont St. Catharine the year after the visit above described. He was of course enchanted with the view; and told me, that a friend whom he met there, and who had travelled pretty much in Italy, assured him there was nothing like it on the banks of either the _Arno_ or the _Po_. In short, it is quite peculiar to itself--and cannot be surpassed. [69] It is thus prettily observed in the little _Itineraire de Rouen_ --"Ces agréables maisons de plaisance appartiennent à des habitants de Rouen qui y viennent en famille, dans la belle saison, se délasser des embarras de la ville et des fatigues du commerce." p. 153. [70] _race-ground_]--When the English cavalry were quartered here in 1814-5, the officers were in the frequent habit of racing with each other. These races were gaily attended by the inhabitants; and I heard, from more than one mouth, the warmest commendations bestowed upon the fleetness of the coursers and the skill of the riders. LETTER VIII. EARLY TYPOGRAPHY AT ROUEN. MODERN PRINTERS. CHAP BOOKS. BOOKSELLERS. BOOK COLLECTORS. Now for a little gossip and chit-chat about _Paper, Ink, Books, Printing-Offices_, and curiosities of a GRAPHIC description. Perhaps the most regular method would be to speak of a few of the principal _Presses_, before we take the _productions_ of these presses into consideration. And first, as to the antiquity of printing in Rouen.[71] The art of printing is supposed to have been introduced here, by a citizen of the name of MAUFER, between the years 1470 and 1480. Some of the specimens of Rouen _Missals_ and _Breviaries_, especially of those by MORIN, who was the second printer in this city, are very splendid. His device, which is not common, and rather striking, is here enclosed for your gratification. [Illustration] Few provincial towns have been more fertile in typographical productions; and the reputation of TALLEUR, GUALTIER, and VALENTIN, gave great respectability to the press of Rouen at the commencement of the sixteenth century. Yet I am not able to ascertain whether these presses were very fruitful in Romances, Chronicles, and Old Poetry. I rather think, however, that they were not deficient in this popular class of literature, if I am to judge from the specimens which are yet lingering, as it were, in the hands of the curious. The gravity even of an archiepiscopal see could never repress the natural love of the French, from time immemorial, for light and fanciful reading. You know with what pertinacity I grope about old alleys, old courts, by-lanes, and unfrequented corners--in search of what is curious, or precious, or rare in the book way. But ere we touch that enchanting chord, let us proceed according to the plan laid down. First therefore for printing-offices. Of these, the names of PÉRIAUX, (_Imprimeur de l'Academie_,) BAUDRY, (_Imprimeur du Roi_) MÉGARD, (_Rue Martainville_) and LECRENE-LABBEY, (_Imprimeur-Libraire et Marchand de Papiers_) are masters of the principal presses; but such is the influence of Paris, or of metropolitan fashions, that a publisher will sometimes prefer getting his work printed at the capital.[72] Of the foregoing printers, it behoves me to make some mention; and yet I can speak personally but of two: Messieurs Périaux and Mégard. M. Periaux is printer to the _Académie des Sciences, Belles-Lettres et Arts de Rouen_, of which academy, indeed, he is himself an accomplished member. He is quick, intelligent, well-bred, and obliging to the last degree; and may be considered the _Henry Stephen_ of the Rouen Printers. He urged me to call often: but I could visit him only twice. Each time I found him in his counting house, with his cap on--shading his eyes: a pen in his right hand, and a proof sheet in his left. Though he rejoiced at seeing me, I could discover (much to his praise) that, like Aldus, he wished me to "say my saying quickly,"[73] and to leave him to his _deles_ and _stets_! He has a great run of business, and lives in one of those strange, old-fashioned houses, in the form of a square, with an outside spiral staircase, so common in this extraordinary city. He introduced me to his son, an intelligent young man--well qualified to take the labouring oar, either upon the temporary or permanent retirement of his parent.[74] Of Monsieur MÉGARD, who may be called the ancient _Jenson_, or the modern _Bulmer_, of Rouen, I can speak only in terms of praise--both as a civil gentleman and as a successful printer. He is doubtless the most elegant printer in this city; and being also a publisher, his business is very considerable. He makes his regular half yearly journeys among the neighbouring towns and villages, and as regularly brings home the fruits of his enterprise and industry. On my first visit, M. Mégard was from home; but Madame, "son épouse, l'attendoit à chaque moment!" There is a particular class of women among the French, which may be said to be singularly distinguished for their intelligence, civility, and good breeding. I mean the wives of the more respectable tradesmen. Thus I found it, in addition to a hundred similar previous instances, with Madame Mégard. "Mais Monsieur, je vous prie de vous asseoir. Que voulez vous?" "I wish to have a little conversation with your husband. I am an enthusiastic lover of the art of printing. I search every where for skilful printers, and thus it is that I come to pay my respects to Monsieur Mégard." We both sat down and conversed together; and I found in Madame Mégard a communicative, and well-instructed, representative of the said ancient Jenson, or modern Bulmer. "Enfin, voilà mon mari qui arrive"--said Madame, turning round, upon the opening of the door:--when I looked forward, and observed a stout man, rather above the middle size, with a countenance perfectly English--but accoutred in the dress of the _national guard_, with a grenadier cap on his head. Madame saw my embarrassment: laughed: and in two minutes her husband knew the purport of my visit. He began by expressing his dislike of the military garb: but admitted the absolute necessity of adopting such a measure as that of embodying a national guard. "Soyez le bien venu; Ma foi, je ne suis que trop sensible, Monsieur, de l'honneur que vous me faites--vû que vous êtes antiquaire typographique, et que vous avez publié des ouvrages relatifs à notre art. Mais ce n'est pas ici qu'il faut en chercher de belles épreuves. C'est à Paris." I parried this delicate thrust by observing that I was well acquainted with the fine productions of _Didot_, and had also seen the less aspiring ones of himself; of which indeed I had reason to think his townsmen might be proud. This I spoke with the utmost sincerity. My first visit concluded with two elegant little book-presents, on the part of M. Megard--one being _Heures de Rouen, à l'usage du Diocese_, 1814, 12mo. and the other _Etrennes nouvelles commodes et utiles_; 1815, 12mo.--the former bound in green morocco; and the latter in calf, with gilt leaves, but printed on a sort of apricot-tinted paper--producing no unpleasing effect. Both are exceedingly well executed. My visits to M. Mégard were rather frequent. He has a son at the Collége Royale, or Lycée, whither I accompanied him, one Sunday morning, and took the church of that establishment in the way. It is built entirely in the Italian style of architecture: is exceedingly spacious: has a fine organ, and is numerously attended. The pictures I saw in it, although by no means of first-rate merit, quite convince me that it is in churches of _Roman_, and not of _Gothic_ architecture, that paintings produce the most harmonious effect. This college and church form a noble establishment, situated in one of the most commanding eminences of the town. From some parts of it, the flying buttresses of the nave of the Abbey of St. Ouen, with the Seine at a short distance, surmounted by the hills and woods of Canteleu as a back ground, are seen in the most gloriously picturesque manner. But the printer who does the most business--or rather whose business lies in the lower department of the art, in bringing forth what are called _chap books_--is LECRENE-LABBEY--_imprimeur-libraire et marchand de papiers_. The very title imports a sort of _Dan Newberry's_ repository. I believe however that Lecrêne-Labbey's business is much diminished. He once lived in the _Rue de la Grosse-Horloge_, No. 12: but at present carries on trade in one of the out-skirting streets of the town. I was told that the premises he now occupies were once an old church or monastery, and that a thousand fluttering sheets are now suspended, where formerly was seen the solemn procession of silken banners, with religious emblems, emblazoned in colours of all hues. I called at the old shop, and supplied myself with a dingy copy of the _Catalogue de la Bibliothéque Bleue_--from which catalogue however I could purchase but little; as the greater part of the old books, several of the _Caxtonian stamp_, had taken their departures. It was from this Catalogue that I learnt the precise character of the works destined for common reading; and from hence inferred, what I stated to you a little time ago, that _Romances, Rondelays_, and chivalrous stories, are yet read with pleasure by the good people of France. It is, in short, from this lower, or _lowest_ species of literature--if it must be so designated--that we gather the real genius, or mental character of the ordinary classes of society. I do assure you that some of these _chap_ publications are singularly droll and curious. Even the very rudiments of learning, or the mere alphabet-book, meets the eye in a very imposing manner--as in the following facsimile. [Illustration] _Love, Marriage_, and _Confession_, are fertile themes in these little farthing chap books. Yonder sits a fille de chambre, after her work is done. She is intent upon some little manual, taken from the _Bibliothèque Bleue_. Approach her, and ask her for a sight of it. She smiles, and readily shews you _Catéchisme à l'usage des Grandes Filles pour être Mariées; ensemble la manière d'attirer les Amans_. At the first glance of it, you suppose that this is entirely, from beginning to end, a wild and probably somewhat indecorous manual of instruction. By no means; for read the _Litanies_ and _Prayer_ with which it concludes, and which I here send; admitting that they exhibit a strange mixture of the simple and the serious. LITANIES. _Pour toutes les Filles qui désirent entrer en menage_. _Kyrie,_ je voudrois, _Christe_, être mariée. _Kyrie_, je prie tous les Saints, _Christe_, que ce soin demain. _Sainte Marie_, tout le Monde se marie. _Saint Joseph_, que vous ai-je fait? _Saint Nicolas_, ne m'oubliez pas. _Saint Médérie_, que j'aie un bon mari. _Saint Matthieu_, qu'il craigne Dieu. _Saint Jean_, qu'il m'aime tendrement. _Saint Bruno_, qu'il soit juli & beau. _Saint Francois_, qu'il me soit fidele. _Saint André_, qu'il soit à mon gré. _Saint Didier_, qu'il aime à travailler. _Saint Honoré_, qu'il n'aime pas à jouer. _Saint Severin_, qu'il n'aime pas le vin. _Saint Clément_, qu'il soit diligent. _Saint Sauveur_, qu'il ait bon coeur. _Saint Nicaise_, que je sois à mon aise. _Saint Josse_, qu'il me donne un carrosse. _Saint Boniface_, que mon mariage se fasse, _Saint Augustin_, dès demain matin. ORAISON. Seigneur, qui avez formé Adam de la terre, et qui lui avez donné Eve pour sa compagne; envoyez-moi, s'il vous plait, un bon mari pour compagnon, non pour la volupté, mais pour vous honorer & avoir des enfants qui vous bénissent. Ainsi soit il. Among the books of this class, before alluded to, I purchased a singularly amusing little manual called "_La Confession de la Bonne Femme_." It is really not divested of merit. Whether however it may not have been written during the Revolution, with a view to ridicule the practice of auricular confession which yet obtains throughout France, I cannot take upon me to pronounce; but there are undoubtedly some portions of it which seem so obviously to satirise this practice, that one can hardly help drawing a conclusion in the affirmative. On the other hand it may perhaps be inferred, with greater probability, that it is intended to shew with what extreme facility a system of _self-deception_ may be maintained.[75] Referring however to the little manual in question, among the various choice morceaus which it contains, take the following extracts: exemplificatory of a woman's _evading the main points of confession_. _Confesseur_. Ne voulez vous pas me répondre; en un mot, combien y a-t-il de temps que vous ne vous êtes confessée? _La Pénitente._ Il y a un mois tout juste, car c'étoit le quatrième jour du mois passé, & nous sommes au cinquième du mois courant; or comptez, mon pere, & vous trouverez justement que ... C. C'est assez, ne parlez point tant, & dites moi en peu de mots vos péchés. _Elle raconte les péchés d'autrui._ _La Pénitente_. J'ai un enfant qui est le plus méchant garçon que vous ayez jamais vu: il jure, bat sa soeur, il fuit l'école, dérobe tout ce qu'il peut pour jouer; il suit de méchans fripons: l'autre jour en courant il perdit son chapeau. Enfin, c'est un méchant garçon, je veux vous l'amener afin que vous me l'endoctriniez un peu s'il vous plaît. C. Dites-moi vos péchés. P. Mais, mon père, j'ai une fille qui est encore pire. Je ne la peux faire lever le matin: Je l'appelle cent fois: _Marguerite: plait-il ma Mere? lève-toi promptement et descends: j'y vais_. Elle ne bouge pas. _Si tu ne viens maintenant, tu seras battue._ Elle s'en moque. Quand je l'envoie à la Ville, je lui dis _reviens promptement, ne t'amuse pas_. Cependant, elle s'arrête à toutes les portes comme l'âne d'un meûnier, elle babille avec tous ceux qu'elle rencontre; & quand elle me fait cela, je la bats: ne fais-je pas bien, mon père? C. Dites-moi _vos_ péchés et non pas ceux de _vos enfans_. P. Il se trouve, mon père, que nous avons dans notre rue une voisine qui est la plus méchante de toutes les femmes: elle jure, elle querelle tous ceux qui passent, personne ne la peut souffrir, ni son mari, ni ses enfans, & bien souvent elle s'enivre, & vous me dites, mon père, quelle est celle-la? c'est ... C. Ah gardez-vous bien de la nommer; car à la confession il ne faut jamais fair connoitre les personnes dont vous déclarez les péchés. P. C'est elle qui vient se confesser après moi: grondez-la bien, car vous ne lui en sauriez trop dire. C. Taisez-vous donc, & ne parlez que de _vos_ péchés, non pas de ceux _des autres_. _Elle s'accuse de ce qui n'est point péché._ _Pénitente_.--Ah! mon père, j'ai fait un grand péché, ah! le grand péché! Hélas je serai damnée, quoique mon confesseur m'ait defendu de le dire j'amais, néanmoins mon père je vais vous le declarer. C. Ne le dites point, puisque votre confesseur vous l'a defendu, je ne veux point l'entendre. P. Ah! n'importe; je veux vous le dire, c'est un trop grand péché: J'ai battu ma mère. C. Vous avez battu votre mère! Ah! misérable, c'est un cas réservé & un crime qui mérite la potence. Et quand l'avez-vous battue? P. Quand j'étois petite de l'âge de quatre ans. C. Ah! simple, ne savez-vous pas que tout ce que les enfans font avant l'âge de raison, qui est environ l'âge de sept ans, ne sauroit être un péché. There is however one thing, which I must frankly declare to you as entitled to distinct notice and especial commendation. It is, the method of teaching "catechisms" of a different and higher order: I mean the CHURCH CATECHISMS. Both the Cathedral and the Abbey of St. Ouen have numerous side chapels. Within these side chapels are collected, on stated days of the week, the young of both sexes. They are arranged in a circle. A priest, in his white robes, is seated, or stands, in the centre of them. He examines, questions, corrects, or commends, as the opportunity calls for it. His manner is winning and persuasive. His action is admirable. The lads shew him great respect, and are rarely rude, or seen to laugh. Those who answer well, and pay the greater attention, receive, with words of commendation, gentle pats upon the head--and I could not but consider the blush, with which this mark of favour was usually received, as so many presages of future excellence in the youth. I once witnessed a most determined catechetical lecture of girls; who might be called, in the language of their matrimonial catechism, "de grandes filles." It was on an evening, in the Chapel of Our Lady in St. Ouen's Abbey, that this examination took place. Two elderly priests attended. The responses of the females were as quick as they were correct; the eye being always invariably fixed on the pavement, accompanied with a gravity and even piety of expression. A large group of mothers, with numerous spectators, were in attendance. A question was put, to which a supposed incorrect response was given. It was repeated, and the same answer followed. The priest hesitated: something like vexation was kindling in his cheek, while the utmost calmness and confidence seemed to mark the countenance of the examinant. The attendant mothers were struck with surprise. A silence for one minute ensued. The question related to the "Holy Spirit." The priest gently approached the girl, and softly articulated--"Mais, ma chère considerez un peu,"--and repeated the question. "Mon pere, (yet more softly, rejoined the pupil) j'ai bien considerée, et je crois que c'est comme je vous l'ai déjà dit." The Priest crossed his hands upon his breast ... brought down his eyebrows in a thoughtful mood ... and turning quickly round to the girl, addressed her in the most affectionate tone of voice--"Ma petite,--tu as bien dit; et j'avois tort." The conduct of the girl was admirable: She curtsied, blushed... and with eyes, from which tears seemed ready to start, surveyed the circle of spectators ... caught the approving glance of her mother, and sunk triumphantly upon her chair--with the united admiration of teachers, companions, parents and spectators! The whole was conducted with the most perfect propriety; and the pastors did not withdraw till they were fairly exhausted. A love of truth obliges me to confess that this reciprocity of zeal, on the part of master and pupil, is equally creditable to both parties; and especially serviceable to the cause of religion and morality. Let me here make honourable mention of the kind offices of _Monsieur Longchamp_, who volunteered his friendly services in walking over half the town with me, to shew me what he justly considered as the most worthy of observation. It is impossible for a generous mind to refuse its testimony to the ever prompt kindness of a well-bred Frenchman, in rendering you all the services in his power. Enquire the way,--and you have not only a finger quickly pointing to it, but the owner of the finger must also put himself in motion to accompany you a short distance upon the route, and that too uncovered! "Mais, Monsieur, mettez votre chapeau ... je vous en prie ... mille pardons." "Monsieur ne dites pas un seul mot ... pour mon chapeau, qu'il reste à son aise." Among book-collectors, Antiquaries, and Men of Taste, let me speak with becoming praise of the amiable and accomplished M. AUGUSTE LE PREVOST--who is considered, by competent judges, to be the best antiquary in Rouen.[76] Mr. Dawson Turner, (a name, in our own country, synonymous with all that is liberal and enlightened in matters of virtù) was so obliging as to give me a letter of introduction to him; and he shewed me several rare and splendid works, which were deserving of the commendations that they received from their owner. M. Le Prevost very justly discredits any remains of Roman masonry at Rouen; but he will not be displeased to see that the only existing relics of the castle or town walls, have been copied by the pencil of a late travelling friend. What you here behold is probably of the fourteenth century. [Illustration] The next book-collector in commendation of whom I am bound to speak, is MONSIEUR DUPUTEL; a member, as well as M. Le Prevost, of the _Academy of Belles-Lettres_ at Rouen. The Abbé Turquier conducted me thither; and I found, in the owner of a choice collection of books, a well-bred gentleman, and a most hearty bibliomaniac. He has comparatively a small library; but, withal, some very curious, scarce, and interesting volumes. M. Duputel is smitten with that amiable passion,--the love of printing for _private distribution_--thus meriting to become a sort of Roxburghe Associate. He was so good as to beg my acceptance of the "nouvelle édition" of his "_Bagatelles Poétiques,"_ printed in an octavo volume of about 112 pages, at Rouen, in 1816. On taking it home, I discovered the following not infelicitous version of our Prior's beautiful little Poem of _the Garland_. _La Guirlande_. _Traduction de l'Anglais de Prior_. Pour orner de Chloé les cheveux ondoyans, Parmi les fleurs nouvellement écloses J'avais choisi les lis les plus brillans, Les oeillets les plus beaux, et les plus fraîches roses. Ma Chloé sur son front les plaça la matin: Alors on vit céder sans peine, Leur vif éclat à celui de son teint, Leur doux parfum à ceux de son haleine. De ses attraits ces fleurs paraissaient s'embellir, Et sur ses blonds cheveux les bergers, les bergères Les voyaient se faner avec plus de plaisir Qu'ils ne les voyaient naître au milieu des parterres. Mais, le soir, quand leur sein flétri Eut cessé d'exhaler son odeur séduisante, Elle fixa, d'un regard attendri, Cette guirlande, hélas! n'aguères si brillante. Des larmes aussi-tôt coulent de ses beaux yeux. Que d'éloquence dans ces larmes! Jamais pour l'exprimer, le langage des dieux, Tout sublime qu'il est, n'aurait assez de charmes. En feignant d'ignorer ce tendre sentiment; "Pourquoi," lui dis-je, "ô ma sensible amie, Pourquoi verser des pleurs? et par quel changement Abandonner ton ame à la melancholie?" "Vois-tu comme ces fleurs languissent tristement?" Me dit, en soupirant, ce moraliste aimable, "De leur fraîcheur, en un moment, S'est éclipsé le charme peu durable. Tel est, hélas! notre destin; Fleur de beauté ressemble à celles des prairies; On les voit toutes deux naître avec le matin, Et dès le soir être flétries. Estelle hier encor brillait dans nos hameaux, Et l'amour attirait les bergers sur ses traces; De la mort, aujourd'hui, I'impitoyable faulx A moissonné sa jeunesse et ses graces. Soumise aux mêmes lois, peut-être que demain, Comme elle aussi, Damon, j'aurai cessé de vivre.... Consacre dans tes vers la cause du chagrin Auquel ton amante se livre." p. 92. The last and not the least of book-collectors, which I have had an opportunity of visiting, is MONSIEUR RIAUX. With respect to what may be called a ROUENNOISE LIBRARY, that of M. Riaux is greatly preferable to any which I have seen; although I am not sure whether M. Le Prevost's collection contain not nearly as many books. M. Riaux is himself a man of first-rate book enthusiasm; and unites the avocations of his business with the gratification of his literary appetites, in a manner which does him infinite honour. A city like Rouen should have a host of such inhabitants; and the government, when it begins to breathe a little from recent embarrassments, will, I hope, cherish and support that finest of all patriotic feelings,--a desire to preserve the RELICS, MANNERS, AND CUSTOMS of PAST AGES. Normandy is fertile beyond conception in objects which may gratify the most unbounded passion in this pursuit. It is the country where formerly the harp of the minstrel poured forth some of its sweetest strains; and the lay and the fabliaux of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, which delight us in the text of Sainte Palaye, and in the versions of Way, owed their existence to the combined spirit of chivalry and literature, which never slumbered upon the shores of Normandy. Farewell now to ROUEN.[77] I have told you all the tellings which I thought worthy of communication. I have endeavoured to make you saunter with me in the streets, in the cathedral, the abbey, and the churches. We have, in imagination at least, strolled together along the quays, visited the halls and public buildings, and gazed with rapture from Mont Ste. Catharine upon the enchanting view of the city, the river, and the neighbouring hills. We have from thence breathed almost the pure air of heaven, and surveyed a country equally beautified by art, and blessed by nature. Our hearts, from that same height, have wished all manner of health, wealth, and prosperity, to a land thus abounding in corn and wine, and oil and gladness. We have silently, but sincerely prayed, that swords may for ever be "turned into plough-shares, and spears into pruning-hooks:"--that all heart-burnings, antipathies, and animosities, may be eternally extinguished; and that, from henceforth, there may be no national rivalries but such as tend to establish, upon a firmer footing, and upon a more comprehensive scale, the peace and happiness of fellow-creatures, of whatever persuasion they may be:--of such, who sedulously cultivate the arts of individual and of national improvement, and blend the duties of social order with the higher calls of morality and religion. Ah! my friend, these are neither foolish thoughts nor romantic wishes. They arise naturally in an honest heart, which, seeing that all creation is animated and upheld by ONE and the SAME POWER, cannot but ardently hope that ALL may be equally benefited by a reliance upon its goodness and bounty. From this eminence we have descended somewhat into humbler walks. We have visited hospitals, strolled in flower-gardens, and associated with publishers and collectors of works--both of the dead and of the living. So now, fare you well. Commend me to your family and to our common friends,--especially to the Gorburghers should they perchance enquire after their wandering Vice President. Many will be the days passed over, and many the leagues traversed, ere I meet them again. Within twenty-four hours my back will be more decidedly turned upon "dear old England"--for that country, in which her ancient kings once held dominion, and where every square mile (I had almost said _acre_) is equally interesting to the antiquary and the agriculturist. I salute you wholly, and am yours ever. [71] The reader may possibly not object to consult two or three pages of the _Bibliographical Decameron_, beginning at page 137, vol. ii. respecting a few of the early Rouen printers. The name of MAUFER, however, appears in a fine large folio volume, entitled _Gaietanus de Tienis Vincentini in Quatt. Aristot. Metheor. Libros_, of the date of 1476--in the possession of Earl Spencer. See _Æd. Althorp_. vol. ii. p. 134. From the colophon of which we can only infer that Maufer was a _citizen of Rouen_. [According to M. Licquet, the first book printed at Rouen--a book of the greatest rarity--was entitled _Les Croniques de Normandie, par Guillaume Le Talleur_, 1487, folio.] [72] [Since the publication of the first edition of this Tour, I have had _particular_ reason to become further acquainted with the partiality of the Rouennois for Parisian printing. When M. Licquet did me the honour to translate my IXth Letter, subjoining notes, (which cut their own throats instead of that of the author annotated upon) he employed the press of Mons. Crapelet, at Paris: a press, as eminently distinguished for its beauty and accuracy, as its Director has proved himself to be for his narrow-mindedness and acrimony of feeling. M.L. (as I learnt from a friend who conversed with him, and as indeed I naturally expected) seemed to be sorry for what he had done.] [73] _like Aldus, "say my saying" quickly_.] Consult Mr. Roscoe's _Life of Leo X._ vol. i. p. 169-70, 8vo. edit. Unger, in his Life of Aldus, _edit. Geret._ p. xxxxii. has a pleasant notice of an inscription, to the same effect, put over the door of his printing-office by Aldus. [It has been quoted to satiety, and I therefore omit it here.] [74] [Mons. Périaux has lately published a Dictionary of the Streets of Rouen, in alphabetical order; in two small, unostentatious, and useful octavo volumes.] [75] [Mons. Licquet translates the latter part of the above passage thus:--"avec quelle facilité nous parvenons à nous abuser nous-mêmes,"--adding, in a note, as follows: "J'avais d'abord vu un tout autre sens dans la phrase anglaise. Si celui que j'adopte n'était pas encore le veritable, j'en demande sincèrement pardon à l'auteur." In turn, I may not be precisely informed of the meaning and force of the verb "_abuser_"--used by my translator: but I had been better satisfied with the verb _tromper_--as more closely conveying the sense of the original.] [76] M. Le Prevost is a belles-lettres Antiquary of the highest order. His "Mémoire faisant suite à l'Essai sur les Romans historiques du moyen âge" may teach modern Normans not to despair when death shall have laid low their present oracle the ABBE DE LA RUE. [I am proud, in this second edition of my Tour, to record the uninterrupted correspondence and friendship of this distinguished Individual; and I can only regret, in common with several friends, that M. Le Prevost will not summon courage sufficient to visit a country, once in such close connexion with his own, where a HEARTY RECEPTION has long awaited him.] [77] [The omission, in this place, of the entire IXth Letter, relating to the PUBLIC LIBRARY at Rouen, must be accounted for, and it is hoped, approved, on the principle laid down at the outset of this undertaking; namely, to omit much that was purely bibliographical, and of a secondary interest to the general Reader. The bibliography, in the original IXth Letter, being of a partial and comparatively dry description--as relating almost entirely to ancient volumes of Church Rituals--was thought to be better omitted than abridged. Another reason might be successfully urged for its omission. This IXth Letter, which comprehends 22 pages in the previous impression, and about 38 pages in the version, having been translated and _separately_ published in 1821, by Mons. Licquet (who succeeded M. Gourdin as Principal Librarian of the Library in question) I had bestowed upon it particular attention, and entered into several points by way of answer to his remarks, and in justification or explanation of the original matter. In consequence, any _abridgement_ of that original matter must have led to constant notice of the minute remarks, and pigmy attacks, of my critical translator: and the stream of intelligence in the text might have been diverted, or rendered unpalatable, by the observations, in the way of controversy, in the notes. If M. Licquet considers this avowal as the proclaiming of his triumph, he is welcome to the laurels of a Conqueror; but if he can persuade any COMMON FRIENDS that, in the translation here referred to, he has defeated the original author in one essential position--or corrected him in one flagrant inaccuracy--I shall be as prompt to thank him for his labours, as I am now to express my astonishment and pity at his undertaking. When M. Licquet put forth the brochure in question--(so splendidly executed in the press of M. Crapelet--to harmonise, in all respects, with the large paper copies of the original English text) he had but recently occupied the seat of his Predecessor. I can commend the zeal of the newly-appointed Librarian in Chief; but must be permitted to question alike his judgment and his motives. One more brief remark in this place. My translator should seem to commend what is only laudatory, in the original author, respecting his countrymen. Sensitively alive to the notice of their smallest defects, he has the most unbounded powers of digestion for that of their excellences. Thus, at the foot of the ABOVE PASSAGE, in the text, Mons. Licquet is pleased to add as follows--in a note: "Si M. Dibdin ne s'était livré qu'à des digressions de cette nature, il aurait trouvé en France un chorus universel, un concert de voeux unanimes:" vol. i. p. 239. And yet few travellers have experienced a more cordial reception, and maintained a more _harmonious_ intercourse, than HE, who, from the foregoing quotation, is more than indirectly supposed to have provoked opposition and _discord!_] LETTER IX. DEPARTURE FROM ROUEN. ST. GEORGE DE BOSCHERVILLE. DUCLAIR. MARIVAUX. THE ABBEY OF JUMIEGES. ARRIVAL AT CAUDEBEC. _May_, 1818. MY DEAR FRIEND. In spite of all its grotesque beauties and antiquarian attractions, the CITY OF ROUEN must be quitted--and I am about to pursue my route more in the character of an independent traveller. No more _Diligence_, or _Conducteur_. I have hired a decent cabriolet, a decent pair of horses, and a yet more promising postilion: and have already made a delightfully rural migration. Adieu therefore to dark avenues, gloomy courts, overhanging roofs, narrow streets, cracking whips, the never-ceasing noise of carts and carriages, and never-ending movements of countless masses of population:--Adieu!--and in their stead, welcome be the winding road, the fertile meadow, the thickly-planted orchard, and the broad and sweeping Seine! Accordingly, on the 4th of this month, between the hours of ten and eleven, A.M. the rattling of horses' hoofs, and the echoes of a postilion's whip, were heard within the court-yard of the _Hôtel Vatel_. Monsieur, Madame, Jacques--and the whole fraternity of domestics, were on the alert--"pour faire les adieux à Messieurs les Anglois." This Jacques deserves somewhat of a particular notice. He is the prime minister of the Hôtel Vatel.[78] A somewhat _uncomfortable_ detention in England for five years, in the character of "prisoner of war," has made him master of a pretty quick and ready utterance of common-place phrases in our language; and he is not a little proud of his attainments therein. Seriously speaking, I consider him quite a phenomenon in his way; and it is right you should know that he affords a very fair specimen of a sharp, clever, French servant. His bodily movements are nearly as quick as those of his tongue. He rises, as well as his brethren, by five in the morning; and the testimonies of this early activity are quickly discovered in the unceasing noise of beating coats, singing French airs, and scolding the boot-boy. He rarely retires to rest before mid-night; and the whole day long he is in one eternal round of occupation. When he is bordering upon impertinence, he seems to be conscious of it--declaring that "the English make him saucy, but that naturally he is very civil." He always speaks of human beings in the _neuter_ gender; and to a question whether such a one has been at the Hotel, he replies, "I have not seen _it_ to-day." I am persuaded he is a thoroughly honest creature; and considering the pains which are taken to spoil him, it is surprising with what good sense and propriety he conducts himself. About eleven o'clock, we sprung forward, at a smart trot, towards the barriers by which we had entered Rouen. Our postilion was a thorough master of his calling, and his spurs and whip seemed to know no cessation from action. The steeds, perfectly Norman, were somewhat fiery; and we rattled along the streets, (for the _chaussé_ never causes the least abatement of pace with the French driver) in high expectation of seeing a thousand rare sights ere we reached Havre--equally the limits of our journey, and of our contract with the owner of the cabriolet. That accomplished antiquary M. Le Prevost, whose name you have often heard, had furnished me with so dainty a bill of fare, or carte de voyage; that I began to consider each hour lost which did not bring us in contact with some architectural relic of antiquity, or some elevated position--whence the wandering Seine and wooded heights of the adjacent country might be surveyed with equal advantage. You have often, I make no doubt, my dear friend, started upon something like a similar expedition:--when the morning has been fair, the sun bright, the breeze gentle, and the atmosphere clear. In such moments how the ardour of hope takes possession of one!--How the heart warms, and the conversation flows! The barriers are approached; we turn to the left, and commence our journey in good earnest. Previously to gaining the first considerable height, you pass the village of _Bapeaume_. This village is exceedingly picturesque. It is studded with water-mills, and is enlivened by a rapid rivulet, which empties itself, in a serpentine direction, into the Seine. You now begin to ascend a very commanding eminence; at the top of which are scattered some of those country houses which are seen from Mont Ste. Catharine. The road is of a noble breadth. The day warmed; and dismounting, we let our steeds breathe freely, as we continued to ascend leisurely. Our first halting-place, according to the instructions of M. Le Prevost, was _St. George de Boscherville_; an ancient abbey established in the twelfth century, This abbey is situated about three French leagues from Rouen. Our route thither, from the summit of the hill which we had just ascended, lay along a road skirted by interminable orchards now in full bloom. The air was perfumed to excess by the fragrance of these blossoms. The apple and pear were beautifully conspicuous; and as the sky became still more serene, and the temperature yet more mild by the unobstructed sun beam, it is impossible to conceive any thing more balmy and genial than was this lovely day. The minutes seemed to fly away too quickly--when we reached the village of _Boscherville_; where stands the CHURCH; the chief remaining relic of this once beautiful abbey. We surveyed the west front very leisurely, and thought it an extremely beautiful specimen of the architecture of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries; for certainly there are some portions more ancient than others. A survey of the chapter-house filled me with mingled sorrow and delight: sorrow, that the Revolution and a modern cotton manufactory had metamorphosed it from its original character; and delight, that the portions which remained were of such beautiful forms, and in such fine preservation. The stone, being of a very close-grained quality, is absolutely as white and sound as if it had been just cut from the quarry. The room, where a parcel of bare-legged girls and boys were working the respective machineries, had a roof of the most delicate construction.[79] The very sound of a _Monastery_ made me curious to examine the disposition of the building. Accordingly, I followed my guide through suites of apartments, up divers stone stair-cases, and along sundry corridors. I noticed the dormitories with due attention, and of course inquired eagerly for the LIBRARY:--but the shelves only remained--either the fear or the fury of the Revolution having long ago dispossessed it of every thing in the shape of a _book_. The whole was painted white. I counted eleven perpendicular divisions; and, from the small distances between the upper shelves, there must have been a very considerable number of _duodecimos_. The titles of the respective classes of the library were painted in white letters upon a dark-blue ground, at top. _Bibles_ occupied the first division, and the _Fathers_ the second: but it should seem that equal importance was attached to the works of _Heretics_ as to those called _Litterae Humaniores_--for each had a division of equal magnitude. On looking out of window, especially from the back part of the building, the eye rests entirely upon what had once been fruitful orchards, abundant kitchen gardens, and shady avenues. Yet in England, this spot, rich by nature, and desirable from its proximity to a great city, would, ere forty moons had waned, have grown up into beauty and fertility, and expanded into luxuriance of condition. The day was now, if possible, more lovely than before. On looking at my instructions I found that we had to stop to examine the remains of an old castle at _Delafontaine_--about two English miles from _St. George de Boscherville_. These remains, however, are but the fragments of a ruin, if I may so speak; yet they are interesting, but somewhat perilous: for a few broken portions of a wall support an upper chamber, where appears a stone chimney-piece of very curious construction and ornament. On observing a large cavity or loop-hole, about half way up the outer wall, I gained it by means of a plentiful growth of ivy, and from thence surveyed the landscape before me. Here, having for some time past lost sight of the Seine, I caught a fine bold view of the sweep of that majestic river, now becoming broader and broader--while, to the left, softly tinted by distance, appeared the beautiful old church we had just quitted: the verdure of the hedges, shrubs, and forest trees, affording a rich variety to the ruddy blossoms of the apple, and the white bloom of the pear. I admit, however, that this delicious morceau of landscape was greatly indebted, for its enchanting effect, to the blue splendour of the sky, and the soft temperature of the air; while the fragrance of every distended blossom added much to the gratification of the beholder. But it is time to descend from this elevation; and to think of reaching Duclair. DUCLAIR is situated close to the very borders of the Seine, which has now an absolute lake-like appearance. We stopped at the auberge to rest our horses; and I commenced a discourse with the master of the inn and his daughter; the latter, a very respectable-looking and well-behaved young woman of about twenty-two years of age. She was preparing a large crackling wood-fire to dress a fish called the _Alose_, for the passengers of the _diligence_--who were expected within half an hour. The French think they can never _butter_ their victuals sufficiently; and it would have produced a spasmodic affection in a thoroughly bilious spectator, could he have seen the enormous piece of butter which this active young _cuisinière_ thought necessary to put into the pot in which the '_Alose_' was to be boiled. She laughed at the surprise I expressed; and added "qu'on ne peut rien faire dans la cuisine sans le beurre." You ought to know, by the by, that the _Alose_, something like our _mackerel_ in flavour, is a large and delicious fish; and that we were always anxious to bespeak it at the table-d'hôte at Rouen. Extricated from the lake of butter in which it floats, when brought upon table, it forms not only a rich, but a very substantial dish. I took a chair and sat in the open air, by the side of the door--enjoying the breeze, and much disposed to gossip with the master of the place. Perceiving this, the landlord approached, and addressed me with a pleasant degree of familiarity. "You are from London, then, Sir?" "I am." "Ah Sir, I never think of London but with the most painful sensations." "How so?" "Sir, I am the sole heir of a rich banker who died in that city before the Revolution. He was in partnership with an English gentleman. Can you possibly advise and assist me upon the subject?" I told him that my advice and assistance were literally not worth a sous; but that, such as they were, he was perfectly welcome to both. "Your daughter Sir, is not married?"--"Non, Monsieur, elle n'est pas encore épousée: mais je lui dis qu'elle ne sera jamais _heureuse_ avant qu'elle le soit." The daughter, who had overheard the conversation, came forward, and looking archly over her shoulder, replied--"ou _malheureuse_, mon père!" A sort of truism, expressed by her with singular epigrammatic force, to which there was no making any reply. Do you remember, my dear friend; that exceedingly cold winter's night, when, for lack of other book-entertainment, we took it into our heads to have a rummage among the _Scriptores Historiae Normannorum_ of DUCHESNE?--and finding therein many pages occupied by _Gulielmus Gemeticensis_, we bethought ourselves that we would have recourse to the valuable folio volume yeleped _Neustria Pia_:--where we presently seemed to hold converse with the ancient founders and royal benefactors of certain venerable establishments! I then little imagined that it would ever fall to my lot to be either walking or musing within the precincts of the Abbey of Jumieges;--or rather, of the ruins of what was once not less distinguished, as a school of learning, than admired for its wealth and celebrity as a monastic establishment. Yes, my friend, I have seen and visited the ruins of this Abbey; and I seem to live "mihi carior" in consequence. But I know your love of method--and that you will be in wrath if I skip from _Duclair_ to JUMIEGES ere the horses have carried us a quarter of a league upon the route. To the left of _Duclair_, and also washed by the waters of the Seine, stands _Marivaux_; a most picturesque and highly cultivated spot. And across the Seine, a little lower down, is the beautiful domain of _La Mailleraye_;--where are hanging gardens, and jets d'eaux, and flower-woven arbours, and daisy-sprinkled meadows--for there lives and occasionally revels _La Marquise_.... I might have been not only a spectator of her splendor, but a participator of her hospitality; for my often-mentioned valuable friend, M. Le Prevost, volunteered me a letter of introduction to her. What was to be done? One cannot be everywhere in one day, or in one journey:--so, gravely balancing the ruins of still life against the attractions of animated society, I was unchivalrous enough to prefer the former--and working myself up into a sort of fantasy, of witnessing the spectered forms of DAGOBERT and CLOVIS, (the fabled founders of the Abbey) I resolutely turned my back upon _La Mailleraye_, and as steadily looked forwards to JUMIEGES. We ascended very sensibly--then striking into a sort of bye-road, were told that we should quickly reach the place of our destination. A fractured capital, and broken shaft, of the late Norman time, left at random beneath a hedge, seemed to bespeak the vicinity of the abbey. We then gained a height; whence, looking straight forward, we caught the first glance of the spires, or rather of the west end towers, of the Abbey of Jumieges.[80] "La voilà, Monsieur,"--exclaimed the postilion--increasing his speed and multiplying the nourishes of his whip--"voilà la belle Abbaye!" We approached and entered the village of Jumieges. Leaving some neat houses to the right and left, we drove to a snug auberge, evidently a portion of some of the outer buildings, or of the chapter-house, attached to the Abbey. A large gothic roof, and central pillar, upon entering, attest the ancient character of the place.[81] The whole struck us as having been formerly of very great dimensions. It was a glorious sun-shiny afternoon, and the villagers quickly crowded round the cabriolet. "Voilà Messieurs les Anglois, qui viennent voir l'Abbaye--mais effectivement il n'y a rien à voir." I told the landlady the object of our visit. She procured us a guide and a key: and within five minutes we entered the nave of the abbey. I can never forget that entrance. The interior, it is true, has not the magical effect, or that sort of artificial burst, which attends the first view of _Tintern_ abbey: but, as the ruin is larger, there is necessarily more to attract attention. Like Tintern also, it is unroofed--yet this unroofing has proceeded from a different cause: of which presently. The side aisles present you with a short flattened arch: the nave has none: but you observe a long pilaster-like, or alto-rilievo column, of slender dimensions, running from bottom to top, with a sort of Roman capital. The arched cieling and roof are entirely gone. We proceeded towards the eastern extremity, and saw more frightful ravages both of time and of accident. The latter however had triumphed over the former: but for _accident_ you must read _revolution_. The day had been rather oppressive for a May morning; and we were getting far into the afternoon, when clouds began to gather, and the sun became occasionally obscured. We seated ourselves upon a grassy hillock, and began to prepare for dinner. To the left of us lay a huge pile of fragments of pillars and groinings of arches--the effects of recent havoc: to the right, within three yards, was the very spot in which the celebrated AGNES SOREL, Mistress of Charles VII, lay entombed:[82]--not a relic of mausoleum now marking the place where, formerly, the sculptor had exhibited the choicest efforts of his art, and the devotee had repaired to Breathe a prayer for her soul--and pass on! What a contrast to the present aspect of things!--to the mixed rubbish and wild flowers with which every spot is now well nigh covered! The mistress of the inn having furnished us with napkins and tumblers, we partook of our dinner, surrounded by the objects just described, with no ordinary sensations. The air now became oppressive; when, looking through the few remaining unglazed mullions of the windows, I observed that the clouds grew blacker and blacker, while a faint rumbling of thunder reached our ears. The sun however yet shone gaily, although partially; and as the storm neared us, it floated as it were round the abbey, affording--by means of its purple, dark colour, contrasted with the pale tint of the walls,--one of the most beautiful painter-like effects imaginable. In an instant almost--and as if touched by the wand of a mighty necromancer--the whole scene became metamorphosed. The thunder growled, but only growled; and the threatening phalanx of sulphur-charged clouds rolled away, and melted into the quiet uniform tint which usually precedes sun-set. Dinner being dispatched, I rose to make a thorough examination of the ruins which had survived ... not only the Revolution, but the cupidity of the present owner of the soil--who is a _rich_ man, living at Rouen--and who loves to dispose of any portion of the stone, whether standing or prostrate, for the sake of the lucre, however trifling, which arises from the sale. Surely the whole corporation of the city of Rouen, with the mayor at their head, ought to stand between this ruthless, rich man, and the abbey--the victim of his brutal avarice and want of taste.[83] The situation of the abbey is delightful. It lies at the bottom of some gently undulating hills, within two or three hundred yards of the Seine. The river here runs gently, in a serpentine direction, at the foot of wood-covered hills--and all seemed, from our elevated station, indicative of fruitfulness, of gaiety, and of prosperity,--all--save the mournful and magnificent remains of the venerable abbey whereon we gazed! In fact, this abbey exists only as a shell. I descended, strolled about the village, and mingled in the conversation of the villagers. It was a lovely approach of evening--and men, women, and children were seated, or sauntering, in the open air. Perceiving that I was anxious to gain information, they flocked around me--and from one man, in particular, I obtained exact intelligence about the havoc which had been committed during the Revolution upon the abbey, The roof had been battered down for the sake of the _lead_--to make bullets; the pews, altars, and iron-work, had been converted into other destructive purposes of warfare; and the great bell had been sold to some speculators in a cannon-foundery at Rouen.[84] The revolutionary mania had even brutalized the Abbot. This man, who must be considered as ....damned to everlasting fame, had been a monk of the monastery; and as soon as he had attained the headship of it, he disposed of every movable piece of furniture, to gratify the revolutionary pack which were daily howling at the gates of the abbey for entrance! Nor could he plead _compulsion_ as an excuse. He seemed to enjoy the work of destruction, of which he had the uncontrouled direction. But enough of this wretch. The next resting-place was CAUDEBEC: a very considerable village, or rather a small town. You go down a steep descent, on entering it by the route we came. As you look about, there are singular appearances on all sides--of houses, and hanging gardens, and elaborately cut avenues--upon summits, declivities, and on the plain. But the charm of the view, at least to my old-fashioned feelings, was a fine old gothic church, and a very fine spire of what _appeared_ to belong to another. As the evening had completely set in, I resolved to reserve my admiration of the place till the morrow. [78] [I am ignorant of his present destination; but learn that he has quitted the above situation a long time.] [79] [Mr. COTMAN has published views of the West Front, the South East, the West Entrance, and the South Transept, with sculptured capitals and basso-relievos, &c. In the whole, seven plates.] [80] [Mr. Cotman has published etchings of the West Front: the Towers, somewhat fore-shortened; the Elevation of the Nave--and doorway of the Abbey: the latter an extremely interesting specimen of art. A somewhat particular and animated description of it will be found in _Lieut. Hall's Travels in France_, 8vo. p. 57, 1819. [In the first edition, I had called the west end towers of the Abbey--"small." Mons. Licquet has suggested that I must have meant "_comparatively_" small;--in contradistinction to the centre-tower, which would have been larger. We learn also from M. Licquet that the spire of this central tower was demolished in 1573, by the Abbé le Veneur, Bishop of Evreux. What earthly motive could have led to such a brutal act of demolition?] [81] ["I know perfectly well, says M. Licquet, the little Inn of which the author here speaks. I can assure him that it never formed any portion of the "chapter house." It was nevertheless une _dependance exterieure_ (I will not attempt a version of this phrase) of the abbey. Dare I venture to say it was the _cowhouse_? (étable aux vaches). Thank you, good Mons. Licquet; but what is a cow-house but "an _outer building_ attached to the Abbey?" Vide supra.] [82] [The heart and entrails only of this once celebrated woman were, according to M. Licquet, buried in the above spot. The body was carried to Loches: and BELLEFOREST _(Cosmog._ vol. i. Part ii. col. 31-32. edit. 1575, folio) gives a description of the mausoleum where it was there entombed: a description, adds M. Licquet, which may well serve for the mausoleum that was at Jumieges.] [83] [Not the smallest portion or particle of a sigh escapes us, on being told, as my translator has told us, that the "soil" in question has become the property of another Owner. "Laius EST MORT"--are the emphatic words of M. Licquet.] [84] [One of the bells of the Abbey of Jumieges is now in the Tower of that of St. Ouen, at Rouen. LICQUET.] LETTER X. CAUDEBEC. LILLEBONNE. BOLBEC. TANKARVILLE. MONTMORENCI CASTLE. HAVRE DE GRACE. My last concluded with our entrance into Caudebec. The present opens with a morning scene at the same place. For a miracle I was stirring before nine. The church was the first object of attraction. For the size of the place, it is really a noble structure: perhaps of the early part of the sixteenth, or latter part of the fifteenth century.[85] I speak of the exterior generally, and of a great portion of the interior. A little shabby green-baise covered door (as usual) was half open, and I entered with no ordinary expectations of gratification. The painted glass seemed absolutely to warm the place--so rich and varied were its colours. There is a great abundance of it, and especially of figures of family-groups kneeling--rather small, but with great appearance of portrait-like fidelity. They are chiefly of the first half of the sixteenth century: and I own that, upon gazing at these charming specimens of ancient painting upon glass, I longed to fix an artist before every window, to bear away triumphantly, in a portfolio of elephantine dimensions, a faithful copy of almost every thing I saw. In some of the countenances, I fancied I traced the pencil of LUCAS CRANACH--and even of HANS HOLBEIN. This church has numerous side chapels, and figures of patron-saints. The entombment of Christ in white marble, (at the end of the chapel of the Virgin,) is rather singular; inasmuch as the figure of Christ itself is ancient, and exceedingly fine in anatomical expression; but the usual surrounding figures are modern, and proportionably clumsy and inexpressive. I noted one mural monument, to the memory of _Guillaume Tellier_, which was dated 1484.[86] Few churches have more highly interested me than this at Caudebec.[87] From the church I strolled to the _Place_, where stood the caffé, by the banks of the Seine. The morning view of this scene perfectly delighted me. Nothing can be more picturesque. The river cannot be much less than a mile in width, and it makes a perfect bend in the form of a crescent. On one side, that on which the village stands, are walks and gardens through which peep numerous white villas--and on the other are meadows, terminating in lofty rising grounds--feathered with coppice-wood down to the very water's edge. This may be considered, in fact, only a portion of the vast _Forest de Brotonne_, which rises in wooded majesty on the opposite heights. The spirit and the wealth of our countrymen would make Caudebec one of the most enchanting summer-residences in the world. The population of the town is estimated at about five thousand. Judge of my astonishment, when, on going out of doors, I saw the river in a state of extreme agitation: the whole mass of water rising perpendicularly, as it were, and broad rippling waves rolling over each other. It was the _coming in of the tide_.... and within a quarter of an hour it appeared to have risen upwards of three feet. You may remember that, in our own country, the Severn-tides exhibit the same phenomenon; and I have seen the river at Glocester rise _at once_ to the height of eight or ten feet, throwing up a shower of foam from the gradually narrowing bed of the river, and causing all the craft, great and small, to rise up as if by magic, and to appear upon a level with the meadows. The tide at Caudebec, although similar in kind, was not so in degree; for it rose gradually yet most visibly--and within half an hour, the elevation could not have been less than _seven_ or _eight_ feet. Having walked for some time on the heights of the town, with which I was much gratified, I returned to my humble auberge, ordered the cabriolet to be got ready, and demanded the reckoning:--which, considering that I was not quite at an hôtel-royale, struck me as being far from moderate. Two old women, of similar features and age, presented themselves as I was getting into the carriage: one was the mistress, and the other the fille de chambre. "Mais, Monsieur (observed one of them) n'oubliez pas, je vous prie, la fille-de-chambre--rappellez-vous que vos souliers ont été supérieurement décrottés." I took out a franc to remunerate the supposed fille-de-chambre--but was told it was the _mistress_. "N'importe, Monsieur, c'est à ce moment que je suis fille-de-chambre--quand vous serez parti, je serai la maitresse." The postilion seemed to enjoy this repartee as much as ourselves. I was scarcely out of the town half a mile, when I began to ascend. I found myself quickly in the middle of those rising grounds which are seen from the promenade or _Place du Caffé_, and could not look without extraordinary gratification upon the beautiful character of spring in its advanced state. The larch was even yet picturesque: the hazel and nut trees were perfectly clothed with foliage, of a tender yet joyous tint: the chestnut was gorgeously in bloom; the lime and beech were beginning to give abundant promise of their future luxuriance--while the lowlier tribes of laburnum and box, with their richly clad branches, covered the ground beneath entirely from view. The apple and pear blossoms still continued to variegate the wide sweep of foliage, and to fill the air with their delicious perfume. It might be Switzerland in miniature--or it might not. Only this I know--that it seemed as though one could live embosomed and enchanted in such a wilderness of sweets--reading the _fabliaux_ of the old Norman bards till the close of human existence! I found myself on a hard, strait, chalky old road--evidently Roman: and in due time perceived and entered the town of LILLEBONNE. But the sky had become overcast: soft and small rain was descending, and an unusual gloom prevailed ... when I halted, agreeably to my instructions, immediately before the gate of the ancient _Castle_. Venerable indeed is this Norman castle, and extensive are the ruins which have survived. I have a perfect recollection how it peeped out upon me--through the light leaf of the poplar, and the pink blossom of the apple. It lies close to the road, on the left. An old round tower, apparently of the time of William the Conqueror, very soon attracts your attention. The stones are large, and the interstices are also very considerable. It was here, says a yet current report, that William assembled the Barons of Normandy, and the invasion of England was determined upon. Such a spot therefore strikes an English beholder with no ordinary emotions. I alighted; sent the cabriolet to the inn, and wished both postilion and horses to get their dinners without delay. For myself, I had resolved to reserve my appetite till I reached _Bolbec_; and there was food enough before me of a different description, to exercise my intellectual digestion for at least the next hour. Knocking at the massive portals, I readily obtained admittance. The area, entirely a grass-plat, was occupied by several cows. In front, were evidently the ruins of a large chapel or church--perhaps of the XIVth century. The outer face of the walls went deeply and perpendicularly down to the bottom of a dry fosse; and the right angle portion of the building was covered with garden ground, where the owner showed us some peas which he boasted he should have at his table within five days. I own I thought he was very likely to carry his boast into execution; for finer vegetables, or a finer bed of earth, I had scarcely ever beheld. How things, my dear friend, are changed from their original character and destination! "But the old round tower," say you!--To "the old round tower" then let us go. The stair-case is narrow, dark, and decayed. I reached the first floor, or circular room, and noticed the construction of the window seats--all of rough, solid, and massive stone. I ascended to the second floor; which, if I remember rightly, was strewn with a portion of the third floor--that had fallen in from sheer decay. Great must have been the crash--as the fragments were huge, and widely scattered. On gaining a firm footing upon the outer wall; through a loop-hole window, I gazed around with equal wonder and delight. The wall of this castle could not be less than ten feet in thickness. A young woman, the shepherdess of the spot, attended as guide. "What is that irregular rude mound, or wall of earth, in the centre of which children are playing?" "It is the _old Roman Theatre_, Sir." I immediately called to mind M. Le Prevost's instructions--and if I could have borrowed the wings of a spirit, I should have instantly alighted upon the spot--but it was situated without the precincts of the old castle and its appurtenances, and a mortal leap would have been attended with a mortal result. "Have you many English who visit this spot?" said I to my guide.--"Scarcely _any_, Sir--it is a frightful place--full of desolation and sadness.." replied she. Again I gazed around, and in the distance, through an aperture in the orchard trees, saw the little fishing village of _Quillebeuf_,[88] quite buried, as it were, in the waters of the Seine. An arm of the river meanders towards Lillebonne. Having gratified my picturesque and antiquarian propensities, from this elevated situation, I retrod, with more difficulty than toil, my steps down the stair-case. A second stroll about the area, and along the skirts of the wall, was sufficient to convince me only--how slight and imperfect had been my survey! On quitting the portal through which I entered, and bidding adieu to my Shepherdess and guide, I immediately hastened towards the Roman Theatre.[89] The town of Lillebonne has a very picturesque appearance from the old mound, or raised terrace, along the outer walls of the castle. In five minutes I mingled with the school boys who were amusing themselves within the ruins of all that is left of this probably once vast and magnificent old theatre. It is only by clearing away a great quantity of earth, with which these ruins are covered, that you can correctly ascertain their character and state of preservation. M. Le Prevost bade me remark that the walls had much swerved from their original perpendicularity,--and that there was much irregularity in the laying of the bricks among the stones. But time, design, and accident, have each in turn (in all probability) so contributed to decompose, deface, and alter the original aspect of the building, that there is no forming a correct conjecture as to its ancient form. Earth, grass, trees, flowers, and weeds, have taken almost entire possession of some low and massive outer walls; so that the imagination has full play to supply all deficiencies which appear to the eye. From the whole of this interesting spot I retreated--with mixed sensations of melancholy and surprise--to the little auberge of the _Three Moors_, in the centre of the town. It had begun to rain smartly as we took shelter in the kitchen; where, for the first time since leaving England, I saw a display of utensils which might have vied with our own, or even with a Dutch interior, for neatness and order of disposition. Some of the dishes might have been as ancient as--not the old round Tower--but as the last English Duke of Normandy who might have banquetted there. The whole was in high polish and full display. On my complimenting the good _Aubergiste_ upon so creditable a sight, she laughed, and replied briskly--"Ce n'est rien, ceci: Pentecôte est tout près, et donc vous verrez, Monsieur!"--It should seem that Whitsuntide was the season for a general household purification. Some of her furniture had once belonged to the Castle: but she had bought it, in the scramble which took place at the dispersion and destruction of the movables there, during the Revolution. I recommend all travellers to take a lunch, and enjoy a bottle of vin ordinaire, at _Les Trois-Nègres._ I was obliged to summon up all my stock of knowledge in polite phraseology, in order to decline a plate of soup. "It was delicious above every thing"--"but I had postponed taking dinner till we got to Bolbec." "Bon--vous y trouverez un hôtel superbe." The French are easily pleased; and civility is so cheap and current a coin abroad, that I wish our countrymen would make use of it a little more frequently than they appear to do. I started about two for Bolbec. The rain continued during the whole of my route thither; but it did not prevent me from witnessing a land of plenty and of picturesque beauty on all sides. Indeed it is scarcely possible to conceive a more rich and luxuriant state of culture. To the left, about half a league from Lillebonne, I passed the domain of a once wealthy, and extremely extensive abbey. They call it the _Abbey of Valasse._ A long rambling bare stone wall, and portions of a deserted ruin, kept in sight for full half an English mile. The immediate approach to BOLBEC is that of the entrance to a modern and flourishing trading town, which seems to be beginning to recover from the effects of the Revolution. After Rouen, and even Caudebec, it has a stiff modernized air. I drove to the principal inn, opposite the church, and bespoke dinner and a bed. The church is perfectly, modern, and equally heavy and large. Crowds of people were issuing from _Vespers_, when, ascending a flight of steps, (for it is built on ground considerably above the ground-floor of the inn) I resolved to wait for the final departure of the congregation, and to take a leisurely survey of the interior, while dinner was getting ready. The sexton was a perfect character in his way; old, shrewd, communicative, and civil. There were several confessionals. "What--you confess here pretty much?" "Yes, Sir; but chiefly females, and among them many widows." I had said nothing to provoke this ungallant reply. "In respect to the _sacrament_, what is the proportion between the communicants, as to sex?" "Sir, there are one hundred women to twelve men." I wish I could say that this disproportion were confined to _France_. Quitting this heavy and ugly, but large and commodious fabric, I sought the inn and dinner. The cook was in every respect a learned professor in his art, and the produce of his skill was equally excellent and acceptable. I had scarcely finished my repast, and the _Gruyere_ cheese and nuts yet lingered upon the table, when the soft sounds of an organ, accompanied by a youthful voice, saluted my ears in a very pleasing manner. "C'est LE PAUVRE PETIT SAVOYARD, Monsieur"--exclaimed the waiter--"Vous allez entendre un air touchant! Ah, le pauvre petit!"--"Comment ça?" "Monsieur, il n'a ni père ni mère; mais pour le chant--oh Dieu, il n'y a personne qui chante comme le pauvre petit Savoyard!" I was well disposed to hear the song, and to admit the truth of the waiter's observation. The little itinerant stopped opposite the door, and sung the following air:-- _Bon jour, Bon soir_. Je peindrai sans détour Tout l'emploi de ma vie: C'est de dire _bon jour_ Et _bon soir_ tour-à-tour. _Bon Jour_ à mon amie, Lorsque je vais la voir. Mais au fat qui m'ennuie, _Bon soir_. _Bon jour_ franc troubadour, Qui chantez la bombance; La paix et les beaux jours; Bacchus et les amours. Qu'un rimeur en démence Vienne avec vous s'asseoir, Pour chanter la Romance, _Bon soir_. _Bon jour_, mon cher voisin, Chez vous la soif m'entraîne: _Bonjour_--si votre vin Est de Beaune ou du Rhin; Mon gosier va sans peine Lui servir d'entonnoir; Mais s'il est de Surêne, _Bon soir_. I know not how it was, but had the "petit Savoyard" possessed the cultivated voice of a chorister, I could not have listened to his notes with half the satisfaction with which I dwelt upon his history, as stated by the waiter. He had no sooner concluded and made his bow, than I bought the slender volume from which his songs had been chanted, and had a long gossip with him. He slung his organ upon his back, and "ever and anon" touching his hat, expressed his thankfulness, as much for the interest I had taken in his welfare, as for the trifling piece of silver which I slipt into his hand at parting. Meanwhile all the benches, placed on the outsides of the houses, were occupied--chiefly by females--to witness, it should seem, so novel and interesting a sight as an Englishman holding familiar discourse with a poor wandering Savoyard! My friend the sexton was among the spectators, and from his voice and action, appeared especially interested. "Que le bon Dieu vous bénisse!" exclaimed the Savoyard, as I bade him farewell. On pursuing my route for a stroll upon the heights near the town, I had occasion to pass these benches of spectators. The women, almost without any exception, inclined their heads by way of a gracious salute; and Monsieur _le Sacristain_ pulled off his enormous cock'd hat with the consequence of a drum-major. He appeared not to have forgotten the donation which he had received in the church. Continuing my pursuit, I gained an elevated situation: whence, looking down upon the spot where I had left the Savoyard, I observed him surrounded by the females--each and every one of them apparently convulsed with laughter! Even the little musician appeared to have forgotten his "orphan state." The environs of _Bolbec_, especially in the upper part, are sufficiently picturesque. At least they are sufficiently fruitful: orchards, corn and pasture land--intermixed with meadows, upon which cotton was spread for bleaching--produced altogether a very interesting effect. The little hanging gardens, attached to labourer's huts, contributed to the beauty of the scene. A warm crimson sun-set seemed to envelope the coppice wood in a flame of gold. The road was yet reeking with moisture--and I retraced my steps, through devious and slippery paths, to the hôtel. Evening had set in: the sound of the Savoyard's voice was no longer heard: I ordered tea and candles, and added considerably to my journal before I went to bed. I rose at five; and before six the horses were harnessed to the cabriolet. Having obtained the necessary instructions for reaching _Tancarville_, (the ancient and proud seat of the MONTMORENCIS) I paid my reckoning, and left Bolbec. As I ascended a long and rather steep hill, and, looking to the right and left, saw every thing in a state of verdure and promise, I did all I could to persuade myself that the journey would be agreeable, and that the castle of Montmorenci could not fail to command admiration. I was now in the high and broad "_roúte royale_" to Havre le Grace; but had scarcely been a league upon it, when, looking at my instructions, we struck out of the high road, to the left, and followed a private one through flat and uninteresting arable land. I cannot tell how many turns were taken, or how many pretty little villages were passed--till, after a long and gradual ascent, we came upon a height, flanked the greater part by coppice wood, through one portion of which--purposely kept open for the view--was seen at a distance a marvellously fine group of perpendicular rocks (whose grey and battered sides were lighted up with a pink colour from the morning sun) in the middle, as it were, of the _Seine_--which now really assumed an ocean-like appearance. In fact, these rocks were at a considerable distance, and appeared to be in the broadest part of the embouchure of that river. I halted the cabriolet; and gazed with unfeigned delight on this truly magnificent and fascinating scene!... for the larks were now mounting all around, and their notes, added to those of the "songsters of the grove," produced an effect which I even preferred to that from the organ and voice of the "pauvre petit Savoyard." The postboy partook of my rapture. "Voilà, Monsieur, des rochers terriblement perpendiculiers--eh, quelle belle vue de la rivière, et du paysage!" Leaving this brilliant picture, we turned rather to the left, and then found our descent proportionably gradual with the ascent. The Seine was now right before us, as hasty glimpses of it, through partial vistos, had enabled us to ascertain. Still _Tancarville_ was deemed a terrible way off. First we were to go up, and then we were to go down--now to turn to the right, and afterwards to the left--a sort of [Greek: polla d'ananta katanta] route--when a prepossessing young paysanne told the postilion, that, after passing through such a wood, we should reach an avenue, from the further end of which the castle of _Montmorenci_ would be visible.. "une petite lieue de distance." Every thing is "une petite lieue!" It is the answer to every question relating to distance. Though the league be double a German one, still it is "une petite!" Here however the paysanne happened to be right. We passed through the wood, gained the avenue, and from the further end saw--even yet towering in imposing magnitude--the far-famed _Chateau de Montmorenci_. It might be a small league off. I gained spirits and even strength at the sight: told the postilion to mend his pace--of which he gave immediate and satisfactory demonstration, while the echoes of his whip resounded along the avenue. A closer road now received us. Knolls of grass interwoven with moss, on the summits of which the beech and lime threw up their sturdy stems, now enclosed the road, which began to widen and to improve in condition. At length, turning a corner, a group of country people appeared--"Est-ce ici la route de Tancarville?"--"Tancarville est tout près: c'est là, où on voit la fumée des cheminées." Joyful intelligence! The post-boy increased his speed: The wheels seemed to move with a readier play: and in one minute and a half I was upon the beach of the river Seine, and alighted at the door of the only auberge in the village. I know you to be both a lover of and connoisseur in Rembrandt's pictures: and especially of those of his _old_ characters. I wish you could have seen the old woman, of the name of _Bucan_, who came out of this same auberge to receive us. She had a sharp, quick, constantly moving black eye; keen features, projecting from a surface of flesh of a subdued mahogany tint; about her temples, and the lower part of her cheeks, were all those harmonizing wrinkles which become old age--_upon canvas_--while, below her chin, communicating with a small and shrunken neck, was that sort of concavity, or dewlap, which painters delight to express with a minuteness of touch, and mellowness of tint, that contribute largely to picturesque effect! This good old woman received us with perfect elasticity of spirits and of action. It should seem that we were the first Englishmen who had visited her solitude this year. Her husband approached, but she soon ordered him "to the right about"--to prepare fuel, coffee, and eggs. I was promised the best breakfast that could be got in Normandy, in twenty minutes. The inn being sufficiently miserable, I was anxious for a ramble. The tide was now coming up, as at Caudebec; but the sweep and breadth of the river being, upon a considerably larger scale, its increase was not yet so obvious--although I am quite sure that all the flats, which I saw on my arrival as a bed of mud, were, within a quarter of an hour, wholly covered with the tide: and, looking up to the right, I perceived the perpendicular walls of _Montmorenci Castle_ to be washed by the refluent wave. It was a sort of ocean in miniature before me. A few miserable fishing boats were moored upon the beach; while a small number of ill-clad and straggling villagers lingered about the same spot, and seemed to look upon the postboy and myself as beings dropt from the sky! On ascending a considerable elevation, I had the gratification of viewing _Quillebeuf_ a little more nearly. It was almost immediately opposite: while, to the right, contemplating the wide sweep of the river towards its embouchure, I fancied that I could see _Havre_. The group of rocks, which had so charmed us on our journey, now assumed a different character. On descending, I could discover, although at a considerable distance, the old woman standing at the door of the auberge--apparently straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of us; and she was almost disposed to scold for having put her reputation of giving good breakfasts to so hazardous a trial. The wood was blazing, and the room was almost filled by smoke--but a prolonged fast, and a stage of sixteen or eighteen miles, in a keen morning air, made Mr. Lewis and myself only think of allaying our hunger. In every public house, however mean, you see the white metal fork, and the napkin covering the plate. A dozen boiled eggs, and a coffee pot and cups of perfectly Brobdignagdian dimensions, with tolerable bread and indifferent butter, formed the _materiél_ of our breakfast. The postboy, having stabled and refreshed his horses, was regaling himself in the kitchen--but-how do you think he was regaling himself?--Truly, in stretching himself upon a bench, and reading, as old Ascham expresses it, "a merry tale in Boccace." In other words, he was reading a French version of the Decameron of that celebrated author. Indeed, I had already received sufficient proof of the general propensity of the common people to _read_--whether good or bad books ... but let us hope and believe the former. I left the bibliomaniacal postboy to his Boccaccio, and prepared to visit the CASTLE... the once proud and yet commanding residence of the family of MONTMORENCI. I ascended--with fresh energies imparted from my breakfast. The day grew soft, and bright, and exhilarating ... but alas! for the changes and chances of every thing in this transitory world. Where was the warder? He had ceased to blow his horn for many a long year. Where was the harp of the minstrel? It had perished two centuries ago, with the hand that had struck its chords. Where was the attendant guard?--or pursuivants--or men at arms? They had been swept from human existence, like the leaves of the old limes and beech trees by which the lower part of the building was surrounded. The moat was dry; the rampart was a ruin:--the rank grass grew within the area... nor can I tell you how many relics of halls, banqueting rooms, and bed-rooms, with all the magnificent appurtenances of old castellated architecture, struck the eager eye with mixed melancholy and surprise! The singular half-circular, and half square, corner towers, hanging over the ever-restless wave, interested me exceedingly. The guide shewed me where the prisoners used to be kept--in a dungeon, apparently impervious to every glimmer of day-light, and every breath of air. I cannot pretend to say at what period even the oldest part of the Castle of Montmorenci was built: but I saw nothing that seemed to be more ancient than the latter end of the fifteenth century.[90] Perhaps the greater portion may be of the beginning of the sixteenth; but, amidst the unroofed rooms, I could not help admiring the painted borders, chiefly of a red colour, which run along the upper part of the walls, or wainscoats--giving indication not only of a good, but of a splendid, taste. Did I tell you that this sort of ornament was to be seen in some parts of the eastern end of the Abbey of Jumieges? _Here_, indeed, they afforded evidence--an evidence, mingled with melancholy sensations on reflection--of the probable state of magnificence which once reigned throughout the castle. Between the corner towers, upon that part which runs immediately parallel with the Seine, there is a noble terrace, now converted into garden ground--which commands an immediate and extensive view of the embouchure of the river. It is the property of a speculator, residing at Havre. The cabriolet meeting me at the bottom of the mound upon which the castle is built, (having paid the reckoning before I left the inn), I had nothing to do but to step in, and push forward for _Havre_. Retracing the road through which we came, we darted into the _Route Royale_, and got upon one of the noblest high roads in France. Between _Tancarville_ and _Havre_ lie _Hocher_ and _Harfleur_; each almost at the water's edge. I regretted I could not see the former; but on our approach to Harfleur I observed, to the right, some delightfully situated, and not inelegantly built, country villas or modern chateaux. The immediate run down to Harfleur is exceedingly pleasing; and though we trotted sharply through the town, the exquisite little porch of the church was not lost upon me. Few places, I believe, for its dimensions, have been more celebrated in the middle ages than Harfleur. The Seine to the left becomes broader and bolder; and, before you, beneath some wooded heights, lies HAVRE. Every thing gives indication of commerce and prosperity as you gain upon the town. The houses increase in number and respectability of appearance--"Voyez-vous là, Monsieur, à droite, ces belles maisons de plaisance?--(exclaimed the charioteer)--"C'est la où demeurent Messieurs vos compatriotes: ma foi, ils ont un joli gout." The first glance upon these stone houses confirmed the sagacity of the postilion. They are gloriously situated--facing the ocean; while the surrounding country teems with fish and game of every species. Isaac Walton might have contrived to interweave a pretty ballad in his description of such trout-streams as were those before us. But we approach the town. The hulls of hundreds of vessels are seen in the commodious docks; and the flags of merchantmen, from all quarters of the globe, appear to stream from the mast-heads. It is a scene of bustle, of business, and variety; and perfectly English. What a contrast to the gloomy solitude of Montmorenci! The outer and inner gates are passed. _Diligences_ issue from every quarter. The centinels relieve guard. The sound of horns, from various packet-boats immediately about to sail, echoes on all sides.... Driving up the high street, we approached the hôtel of the _Aigle d'Or,_[91] kept by Justin, and considered to be the best. We were just in time for the table d'hôte, and to bespeak excellent beds. Travellers were continually arriving and departing. What life and animation!... We sat down upwards of forty to dinner: and a good dinner it was. Afterwards, I settled for the cabriolet, and bade the postboy adieu!--nor can I suppress my feelings in saying that, in wishing him farewell, I felt ten times more than I had ever felt upon taking leave of a postilion. [85] The nave was begun in 1416. LICQUET. [86] Corrected by Mons. Licquet: with thanks from the Author. It was, before, 1184. [87] Lieutenant Hall has well described it. I did not see his description till more than a twelvemonth after my own had been written. A part may be worth extracting.... "The principal object of attraction is the CHURCH, the gothic spire of which is encircled by fillets of roses, beautifully carved in stone, and continued to the very summit of the steeple. The principal portal too is sculptured with no less richness and delicacy than that of St. Maclou at Rouen. Its interior length is about 250 feet by 72 of width. The central aisle [nave] is flanked on either side by ten massive circular columns, the capitals of which represent vine leaves and other decorations, more fanciful, and not less rich, than the Corinthian acanthus.... In one of the chapels there is a rude monumental effigy of the original architect of this church. It consists of a small skeleton, drawn in black lines, against a tablet in the wall: a mason's level and trowel, with the plan of a building, are beside it, and an inscription in gothic characters, relating that the architect endowed the church he had built with certain lands, and died Anno 1484." _Travels in France_, p. 47, 1819, 8vo. I take this to be GUILLAUME TELLIER--mentioned above: but in regard to the lands with which Tellier endowed the church, the inscription says nothing. LICQUET. [88] Small as may be this village, and insignificant as may be its aspect, it is one of the most important places, with respect to navigation, in the whole course of the river Seine. Seven years ago there were not fewer than _four-score_ pilots settled here, by order of government, for the purpose of guarding against accidents which arise from a want of knowledge of the navigation of the river. In time of peace this number would necessarily be increased. In the year 1789 there were upwards of 250 English vessels which passed it--averaging, in the whole, 19,000 tons. It is from _Quillebeuf_ to _Havre_ that the accidents arise. The author of a pompous, but very instructive memoir, "_sur la Topographie et la Statistique de la Ville de Quillebeuf et de l'embouchure de la Seine, ayant pour objet-principal la navigation et la pêché_," (published in the Transactions of the Rouen Society for the year 1812, and from which the foregoing information has been obtained) mentions three or four _wrecks_ which have taken place in the immediate vicinity of Quillebeuf: and it should seem that a _calm_ is, of all things, the most fatal. The currents are strong, and the vessel is left to the mercy of the tides in consequence. There are also rocks and sand banks in abundance. Among the wrecks, was one, in which a young girl of eighteen years of age fell a victim to the ignorance of the pilot. The vessel made a false tack between _Hode_ and _Tancarville_, and running upon a bank, was upset in an instant. An English vessel once shared the same calamity. A thick fog suddenly came on, when the sloop ran upon a bank near the _Nez de Tancarville_, and the crew had just time to throw themselves into the boat and escape destruction. The next morning, so sudden and so decisive was the change wrought by the sand and current, that, of the sloop, there remained, at ebb-tide, only ten feet of her mast visible! It appears that the _Quillebois_, owing to their detached situation, and their peculiar occupations, speak a very barbarous French. They have a sort of sing-song method of pronunciation; and the _g_ and _j_ are strangely perverted by them. Consult the memoir here referred to; which occupies forty octavo pages: and which forms a sequel to a previous communication (in 1810) "upon the Topography and Medical properties of Quillebeuf and its adjacent parts." The author is M. Boismare. His exordium is a specimen of the very worst possible taste in composition. One would suppose it to be a prelude to an account of the discovery of another America! [89] ["The Roman Circus (says M. Licquet) is now departmental property. Many excavations have already taken place under the directions of Mons. Le Baron de Vanssay, the present Prefect of the Department. The most happy results may be anticipated. It was in a neighbouring property that an ANTIQUE BRONZE GILT STATUE, of the size of life, was lately found," vol. i. 194. Of this statue, Mr. Samuel Woodburn, (with that spirit of liberality and love of art which have uniformly characterised his purchases) became the Owner. The sum advanced for it was very considerable; but, in one sense, Mr. W. may be said to have stood as the Representative of his country; for the French Government declining to give the Proprietor the sum which he asked, Mr. Woodburn purchased it--solely with the view of depositing it, on the same terms of purchase, in a NATIONAL GALLERY OF ART, of which the bequest of Mr. Payne Knight's ancient bronzes and coins, and the purchase of Mr. Angerstein's pictures, might be supposed to lay the foundation. This statue was accordingly brought over to England, and freely exhibited to the curious admirers of ancient art. It is the figure of an APOLLO--the left arm, extended to hold the lyre, being mutilated. A portion of the limbs is also mutilated; but the torso, head and legs, are entire: and are, of their kind, of the highest class of art. Overtures were made for its purchase by government. The Trustees of the British Museum were unanimous both in their admiration and recommendation of it: it was indeed "strongly recommended" by them to the Treasury. Several months however elapsed before an answer could be obtained; and that answer, when it _did_ come, was returned in THE NEGATIVE. The disappointment of reasonably indulged hopes of success, was the least thing felt by its owner. It was the necessity of transporting it, in consequence, to enrich a _rival capital_--which, were its means equal to its wishes and good taste, it must be confessed, makes us frequently blush for the comparative want of energy and liberality, at home, in matters relating to ANCIENT ART.] [90] Mr. Cotman has a view of the gateway of Tancarville, or Montmorenci Castle. [91] I am not sure whether this inn be called the _Armes de France_, or as above. LETTER XI HAVRE DE GRACE. HONFLEUR. JOURNEY TO CAEN. _Caen, May_, 1818. Well, my friend!... I have at length visited the interior of the Abbey of St. Stephen, and have walked over the grave of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR and of MATHILDA his wife. But as you dearly love the gossip of a travelling journal, I shall take up the thread of my narrative from the place in which I last addressed you:--particularly as our route hither was marked by some circumstances worthy of recital. First, however, for _Havre_. I staid there only long enough to express my regret that the time of my residence could not be extended. It happened to be a fine afternoon, and I took a leisurely stroll upon the docks and ramparts.[92] The town was full of animation--whether relating to business or to pleasure. For the former, you must visit the quays; for the latter, you must promenade the high street, and more especially the _Boulevards_, towards the heights. The sun shone merrily, as it were, upon the thousands of busy, bustling, and bawling human creatures.. who were in constant locomotion in this latter place. What a difference between the respective appearances of the quays of Dieppe and Havre? Although even _here_ things would assume a rubbishing and littered aspect compared with the quays at _Liverpool_ or at _Hull_, yet it must be admitted, for the credit of Gallico-Norman commerce, that the quays of Havre make a very respectable appearance. You see men fiddling, dancing, sleeping, sitting, and of course talking _à pleine gorge_, in groups without end--but no drunkenness!.. not even an English oath saluted my ear. The Southampton packets land their crews at Havre. I saw the arrival of one of these packets; and was cruel enough to contrast the animated and elastic spirits of a host of French _laqnais de place_, tradespeople, &c.--attacking the passengers with cards of their address--with the feeble movements and dejected countenances of the objects of their attack. From the quays, I sauntered along the ramparts, which are flanked by broad ditches--of course plentifully supplied with water; and passing over the drawbridge, by which all carriages enter the town--and which absolutely trembles as if about to sink beneath you, as the _diligence_ rolls over it.--I made for the boulevards and tea-gardens; to which, business being well nigh over, the inhabitants of Havre flock by hundreds and by thousands. A fine afternoon throws every thing into "good keeping"--as the artists say. The trees, and meadows, and upper lands, were not only bright with the sun-beam, but the human countenance was lighted up with gladness. The occupations partook of this joyful character. Accordingly there was dancing and singing on all sides; a little beyond, appeared to sit a group of philosophers, or politicians, upon a fantastically cut seat, beneath laburnums streaming with gold; while, still further, gradually becoming invisible from the foliage and winding path, strolled pairs in more gentle discourse! Meanwhile the whoop and halloo of school-boys, in rapid and ceaseless evolutions, resounded through the air, and heightened the gratification of the scene.... And young and old came out to play Upon a sun-shine holiday. Gaining a considerable ascent, I observed knolls of rich verdure, with fine spreading trees, and elegant mansions, to be in the foreground--in the middle-ground, stood the town of Havre:--in the distance, rolled and roared the expansive ocean! The sun was visibly going to rest; but his departing beams yet sparkled upon the more prominent points of the picture. There was no time for finishing the subject. After a stroll of nearly a couple of hours, on this interesting spot, I retraced my steps over the draw-bridge, and prepared for objects of _still_ life; in other words, for the examination of what might be curious and profitable in the shape of a _boke_. The lamps were lighted when I commenced my _Bibliomaniacal Voyage_ of discovery among the BOOKSELLERS. But what poverty of materials, for a man educated in the schools of Fust and Caxton! To every question, about rare or old books, I was told that I should have been on the Continent when the allies first got possession of Paris. In fact, I had not a single _trouvaille_. The packet was to sail by nine the next morning, precisely. For a wonder, (or rather no wonder at all, considering what had occurred during the last twenty-four hours) I had an excellent night's rest, and was prepared for breakfast by eight. Having breakfasted, I accompanied my luggage to the inner harbour, and observed the _Honfleur_ packet swarming with passengers, and crammed with every species of merchandize: especially tubs, casks, trunks, cordage, and earthenware. We went on board, and took our stations near the helm; and after experiencing a good deal of _uncomfortable_ heaving of the ocean, got clear from the mouth of the harbour, and stood out to sea. The tide was running briskly and strongly into the harbour. We were in truth closely stowed; and as these packets are built with flattish bottoms, and low sides, a rough sea would not fail to give to a crew, thus exposed, the appearance of half-drowned rats. Luckily the wind began to subside, and by degrees old ocean wore a face of undisturbed serenity. Our crew was a motley one; but among them, an Abbess, with a visage of parchment-like rigidity, and with her broad streaming bands, seemed to experience particular distress. She was surrounded by some hale, hearty market women, whose robust forms, and copper-tinted countenances, formed a striking contrast to her own. A little beyond was an old officer or two, with cocked hats of the usually capacious dimensions. But the poor Abbess was cruelly afflicted; and in a gesture and tone of voice, of the most piteous woe, implored the steward of the vessel for accommodation below. Fortunately, as I was not in the least annoyed by sickness, I had leisure to survey the heights of Honfleur before we landed; and looking towards the course of the River Seine, as it narrowed in its windings, I discovered _Harfleur_ and _Hocher_ nearly opposite; and, a good deal lower down, the little fishing town of _Quillebeuf_, apparently embedded in the water. Honfleur itself is surely among the most miserable of fishing towns[93]--or whatever be the staple commodity that supports it. But the environs make amends for the squalidness of the town. A few years of peace and plenty would work wonders even in the improvements of these environs. Perhaps no situation is more favourable for the luxury of a summer retirement.[94] I paid only eight sous for my passage; and having no passport to be _viséd_ (which indeed was the case at Havre,) we selected a stout lad or two, from the crowds of lookers on, as we landed, to carry our luggage to the inn from which the diligence sets off for CAEN. It surprised us to see with what alacrity these lads carried the baggage up a steep hill in their trucks, or barrows; but we were disgusted with the miserable forms, and miserable clothing, of both sexes, which we encountered as we proceeded. I was fortunate to be in time to secure my place in the Diligence. The horses were in the very act of being put to, as I paid my reckoning beforehand. Judge of our surprise and gratification on seeing two well-dressed, and apparently well-bred Englishmen, securing their places at the same time. It is not always that, at first sight, Englishmen associate so quickly, and apparently so cordially, as did these gentlemen with ourselves. They were the Messrs. D*** of _L_**** _Hall_ in Yorkshire: the elder brother an Oxford man of the same standing with myself. The younger, a Cantab. We were all bound for Caen; and right gladly did we coalesce upon this expedition. We proceeded at a good sharp pace; and as we ascended the very high hill on the direct road to Caen, with fine leafy trees on each side, and upon a noble breadth of road, I looked out of the diligence to enjoy the truly magnificent view of the Seine--with glimpses of _Harfleur_ and _Havre_ on the opposite coast. The cessation of the rain, and the quick movement of the vehicle, enabled me to do this in a tolerably commodious manner. The ground however seemed saturated, and the leaves glistened with the incumbent moisture. There was a sort of pungent freshness of scent abroad--and a rich pasture land on each side gave the most luxuriant appearance to the landscape. Nature indeed seemed to have fructified every thing in a manner at once spontaneous and perfect. The face of the country is pasture-land throughout; that is to say, there are comparatively few orchards and little arable. I was told to pay attention to the cattle, for that the farmers prided themselves on their property of this kind. They may pride themselves--if they please: but their pride is not of a lofty cast of character. I have been in Lincolnshire, Herefordshire, and Gloucestershire--and have seen and enjoyed, in these counties, groups of cattle which appeared calculated for the land and the table of giants, compared with the Lilliputian objects, of the bucoline species, which were straying, in thin flocks, through the luxuriant pastures of Normandy. That triumphant and immutable maxim of "small bone and large carcase" seems, alas! to be unknown in these regions. However, on we rode--and gazed on all sides. At length we reached _Pont L'Eveque_, a pretty long stage; where we dined (says my journal) upon roast fowl, asparagus, trout, and an excellent omelette, with two good bottles of vin ordinaire--which latter, for four Englishmen, was commendably moderate. During dinner the rain came down again in yet heavier torrents--the gutters foamed, and the ground smoked with the unceasing fall of the water. In the midst of this aquatic storm, we toasted Old England right merrily and cordially; and the conducteur, seeing us in good humour, told us that "we need not hurry, for that he preferred a dry journey to a wet one." We readily assented to this position; but within half an hour, the weather clearing, we remounted: and by four o'clock, we all got inside--and politics, religion, literature, and the fine arts, kept us in constant discourse and good humour as we rolled on for many a league. All the way to _Troarn_ (the last stage on this side of Caen) the country presents a truly lovely picture of pasture land. There are occasionally some wooded heights, in which English wealth and English taste would have raised villas of the prettiest forms, and with most commanding views. Yet there is nothing to be mentioned in the same breath with the country about Rodwell in Glocestershire. Nor are the trees of the same bulk and luxuriant foliage as are those in our own country. A fine oak is as rare as an uncut _Wynkyn de Worde_:[95] but creeping rivulets, rich coppice wood, avenues of elms and limes, and meadows begemmed with butter-cups--these are the characteristics of the country through which we were passing. It is in vain however you look for neat villas or consequential farm houses: and as rarely do you see groups of villagers reposing, or in action. A dearth of population gives to French landscape a melancholy and solitary cast of character. It is in cities that you must look for human beings--and _for_ cities the French seem to have been created. It was at _Troarn_, I think, or at some halting place beyond, that our passports were demanded, and the examination of our trunks solicited. We surrendered our keys most willingly. The gentlemen, with their cocked hats and blue jackets--having a belt from which a sword was suspended--consulted together for a minute only--returned our keys--and telling us that matters would be thoroughly looked into at Caen, said they would give us no trouble. We were of course not sorry at this determination--and the Messrs. D---and myself getting once more into the cabriolet, (a postboy being secured for the leaders) we began to screw up our spirits and curiosity for a view of the steeples of CAEN. Unluckily the sun had set, and the horizon had become gloomy, when we first discovered the spires of _St. Stephen's Abbey_--the principal ecclesiastical edifice at Caen. It was hard upon nine o'clock; and the evening being extremely dusky, we had necessarily a very indistinct view of the other churches--but, to my eye, as seen in a lengthened view, and through a deceitful atmosphere, Caen had the appearance of OXFORD on a diminutive scale. The town itself, like our famous University, is built in a slanting direction; though the surrounding country is yet flatter than about Oxford. As we entered it, all the population seemed collected to witness our arrival. From solitude we plunged at once into tumult, bustle, and noise. We stopped at the _Hotel d'Espagne--_a large, but black and begrimed mansion. Here our luggage was taken down; and here we were assailed by garçons de place, with cards in their hands, intreating us to put up at their respective hotels. We had somehow got a recommendation to the _Hotel Royale, Place Royale_, and such a union of _royal_ adjuncts was irresistible. Accordingly, we resolved upon moving thither. In a trice our trunks were placed upon barrows: and we marched behind, "in double quick time," in order to secure our property. The town appeared to improve as we made our different turnings, and gained upon our hotel. "Le voilà, Messieurs"--exclaimed our guides and baggage-conductors--as we got into a goodly square, and saw a fair and comely mansion in front. The rush of landlord, waiting maids, and garçons de place, encountered us as we entered. "Messieurs, je vous salue,"--said a huge, ungracious looking figure:--which said figure was nothing less than the master of the hotel--Mons. Lagouelle. We were shown into a small room on the ground floor, to the right--and ordered tea; but had scarcely begun to enjoy the crackling blaze of a plentiful wood fire, when the same ungracious figure took his seat by the side of us ... to tell us "all about THE DUEL." I had heard (from an English gentleman in the packet boat from Havre to Honfleur) something respecting this most extraordinary duel between a young Englishman and a young Frenchman: but as I mean to reserve my _Caen budget_ for a distinct dispatch, and as I have yet hardly tarried twenty hours in this place, I must bid you adieu; only adding that I dreamt, last night, about some English antiquaries trying to bend the bow of William the Conqueror!--Can this be surprising? Again farewell. [92] Evelyn, who visited Havre in 1644, when the Duke de Richlieu was governor, describes the citadel as "strong and regular, well stored with artillery, &c. The works furnished with faire brass canon, having a motto, "_Ratio ultima Regum_." The haven is very spacious." _Life and Writings of John Evelyn_, edit. 1818, vol. i. p. 51. Havre seems always to have been a place of note and distinction in more senses than one. In Zeiller's _Topographia Galliae,_ (vol. iii.) there is a view of it, about the period in which Evelyn saw it, by Jacques Gomboust, Ingénieur du Roy, from which it appears to have been a very considerable place. Forty-two principal buildings and places are referred to in the directions; and among them we observe the BOULEVARDS DE RICHELIEU. [93] It was so in Evelyn's time: in 1644, "It is a poore fisher towne (says he) remarkable for nothing so much as the odd yet usefull habites which the good women weare, of beares and other skinns, as of raggs at Dieppe, and all along these coasts." _Life and Writings of J. Evelyn_; 1818, 4to. vol. i. p. 51. [94] [It is near a chapel, on one of the heights of this town, that Mr. Washington Irving fixes one of his most exquisitely drawn characters, ANNETTE DELABRE, as absorbed in meditation and prayer respecting the fate of her lover; and I have a distinct recollection of a beautiful piece of composition, by one of our most celebrated artists, in which the _Heights of Honfleur_, with women kneeling before a crucifix in the foreground, formed a most beautiful composition. The name of the artist (was it the younger Mr. Chalon?) I have forgotten.] [95] [My translator says, "un Wynkyn de Worde non coupé:" Qu. Would not the _Debure_ Vocabulary have said "non rogné?"] LETTER XII. CAEN. SOIL. SOCIETY. EDUCATION. A DUEL. OLD HOUSES. THE ABBEY OF ST. STEPHEN. CHURCH OF ST. PIERRE DE DARNETAL. ABBÉ DE LA SAINTE TRINITÉ. OTHER PUBLIC EDIFICES. I have now resided upwards of a week at Lagouelle's, the _Hotel Royale_, and can tell you something of the place and of the inhabitants of CAEN. Caen however is still-life after Rouen: but it has been, and yet is, a town exceedingly well-deserving the attention of the lounging traveller and of the curious antiquary. Its ecclesiastical edifices are more ancient, but less vast and splendid, than those of Rouen; while the streets and the houses are much more wide and comfortable. This place is the capital of the department of CALVADOS, or of LOWER NORMANDY: and its population is estimated at forty thousand souls. It has a public library, a school of art, a college, mayoralty, and all the adjuncts of a corporate society.[96] But I must first give you something in the shape of political economy intelligence. Caen with its arrondissemens of _Bayeux, Vire, Falaise, Lisieux, Pont L'Eveque_, is the country of pasturage and of cattle. It is also fertile in the apple and pear; and although at _Argences_ there have been vineyards from time immemorial, yet the produce of the grape, in the character of _wine_,[97] is of a very secondary description. There are beautiful and most abundant market gardens about Caen; and for the last seventy years they have possessed a garden for the growth and cultivation of foreign plants and trees. It is said that more than nine hundred species of plants and trees are to be found in the department of CALVADOS, of which some (but I know not how many or how few) are considered as indigenous. Of forests and woods, the number is comparatively small; and upon that limited number great injuries were inflicted by the Revolution. In the arrondissement of Caen itself, there are only 344 _hectares_.[98] The truth is, that in the immediate neighbourhood of populous towns, the French have no idea of PLANTING. They suffer plain after plain, and hill after hill, to be denuded of trees, and make no provision for the supply of those who are to come after them. Thus, not only a great portion of the country about Rouen--(especially in the direction of the road leading to Caen--) is gradually left desolate and barren, but even here, as you approach the town, there is a dreary flatness of country, unrefreshed by the verdure of foliage: whereas the soil, kind and productive by nature, requires only the slightest attention of man to repay him a hundred fold. What they will do some fifty years hence for _fuel_, is quite inconceivable. It is true that the river Orne, by means of the tide, and of its proximity to the sea, brings up vessels of even 200 tons burthen, in which they may stow plenty of wood; but still, the expenses of carriage, and duties of a variety of description--together with the _dependence_ of the town upon such accidental supply--would render the article of fuel a most expensive concern. It is also true that they pretend that the soil, in the department of Calvados, contains _coal_; but the experiments which were made some years ago at _Littry_, in the arondissement of _Bayeux_, should forbid the Caennois to indulge any very sanguine expectations on that score. In respect to the trade of the town, the two principal branches are _lace_ and _cap_ making. The former trade is divided with Bayeux; and both places together give occupation to about thirty thousand pairs[99] of hands. People of all ages may be so employed; and the annual gross receipts have been estimated at four millions of francs. In _cap_ making only, at Caen, four thousand people have been constantly engaged, and a gross produce of two millions of francs has been the result of that branch of trade. A great part of this manufacture was consumed at home; but more than one half used to be exported to Spain, Portugal, and the colonies belonging to France. They pretend to say, however, that this article of commerce is much diminished both in profit and reputation: while that of _table linen_ is gaining proportionably in both.[100] There were formerly great _tanneries_ in Caen and its immediate vicinity, but lately that branch of trade has suffered extremely. The revolution first gave it a violent check, and the ignorance and inattention of the masters to recent improvements, introduced by means of chemistry, have helped to hasten its decay. To balance this misfortune, there has of late sprung up a very general and judiciously directed commercial spirit in the article of _porcelaine_; and if Caen be inferior to its neighbouring towns, and especially to Rouen and Lisieux, in the articles of cloth, stuffs, and lace, it takes a decided lead in that which relates to _pottery_ and _china_: no mean articles in the supply of domestic wants and luxuries. But it is in matters of higher "pith and moment" that Caen may claim a superiority over the towns just noticed. There is a better spirit of _education_ abroad; and, for its size, more science and more literature will be found in it. This place has been long famous for the education of Lawyers. There are two distinct academies--one for "Science and the Belles-Lettres"--the other for agriculture and commerce. The _Lycée_ is a noble building, close to the Abbey of St. Stephen: but I wish its façade had been Gothic, to harmonise with the Abbey. Indeed, Caen has quite the air of Oxford, from the prevalent appearance of _stone_ in its public buildings. The environs of the town afford quarries, whence the stone is taken in great blocks, in a comparatively soft state--and is thus cut into the several forms required with the greatest facility. It is then exposed, and every succeeding day appears to add to its white tint and durable quality. I saw some important improvements making in the outskirts of the town,[101] in which they were finishing shafts and capitals of columns in a manner the most correct and gratifying. Still farther from the immediate vicinity of Caen, they find stone of a closer grain; and with this they make stair-cases, and pavements for the interior of buildings. Indeed the stone stair-cases in this place, which are usually circular, and projecting from the building, struck me as being equally curious and uncommon. It is asserted that they have different kinds of _marble_ in the department of Calvados, which equal that of the south of France. At _Basly_ and _Vieux_ white marble is found which has been judged worthy of a comparison with Parian; but this is surely a little presumptuous. However, it is known that Cardinal Richelieu brought from Vieux all the marble with which he built the chapel in the college of the Sorbonne. Upon the whole, as to general appearance, and as to particular society, Caen may be preferable to Rouen. The costume and manners of the common people are pretty much, if not entirely, the same; except that, as to dress, the _cauchoise_ is here rather more simple than at Dieppe and Rouen. The upper fille-de-chambre at our hotel displays not only a good correct model of national dress, but she is well-looking in her person, and well-bred in her manners. Mr. Lewis prevailed upon this good-natured young woman to sit for her likeness, and for the sake of her costume. The girl's eyes sparkled with more than ordinary joy at the proposal, and even an expression of gratitude mingled itself in her manner of compliance. I send you the figure and dress of the fille-de-chambre at the _Hotel Royale_ of Caen.[102] [Illustration: FILLE DE CHAMBRE, CAEN.] Caen is called the dépôt of the English.[103] In truth there is an amazing number of our countrymen here, and from very different causes. One family comes to reside from motives of economy; another from those of education; a third from those of retirement; and a fourth from pure love of sitting down, in a strange place, with the chance of making some pleasant connection, or of being engaged in seeking some strange adventure: Good and cheap living, and novel society, are doubtless the main attractions. But there is desperate ill blood just now between the _Caennois_ (I will not make use of the enlarged term _Francois_) and the English; and I will tell you the cause. Do you remember the emphatic phrase in my last, "all about the duel?" Listen. About three weeks only before our arrival,[104] a duel was fought between a young French law-student, and a young Englishman; the latter the son of a naval captain. I will mention no names; and so far not wound the feelings of the friends of the parties concerned. But this duel, my friend, has been "THE DUEL OF DUELS"--on the score of desperation, and of a fixed purpose to murder. It is literally without precedent, and I trust will never be considered as one. You must know then, that Caen, in spite of all the "bouleversemens" of the Revolution, has maintained its ancient reputation of possessing a very large seminary, or college for students at law. These students amount to nearly 600 in number. Most young gentlemen under twenty years of age are at times riotous, or frolicsome, or foolish. Generally speaking, however, the students conduct themselves with propriety: but there had been a law-suit between a French and English suitor, and the Judge pronounced sentence in favour of our countryman. The hall was crowded with spectators, and among them was a plentiful number of law-students. As they were retiring, one young Frenchman either made frightful faces, or contemptible gestures, in a very fixed and insulting manner, at a young Englishman--the son of this naval captain. Our countryman had no means or power of noticing or resenting the insult, as the aggressor was surrounded by his companions. It so happened that it was fair time at Caen; and in the evening of the same day, our countryman recognised, in the crowd at the fair, the physiognomy of the young man who had insulted him in the hall of justice. He approached him, and gave him to understand that his rude behaviour should be noticed at a proper time and in a proper place: whereupon the Frenchman came up to him, shook him violently by the arm, and told him to "fix his distance on the ensuing morning." Now the habit of duelling is very common among these law-students; but they measure twenty-five paces, fire, and of course ... MISS--and then fancy themselves great heroes ... and there is an end of the affair. Not so upon the present occasion. "Fifteen paces," if you please--said the student, sarcastically, with a conviction of the backwardness of his opponent to meet him. "FIVE, rather"--exclaimed the provoked Englishman--"I will fight you at FIVE paces:"--and it was agreed that they should meet and fight on the morrow, at five paces only asunder. Each party was under twenty; but I believe the English youth had scarcely attained his nineteenth year. What I am about to relate will cause your flesh to creep. It was determined by the seconds, as _one_ must necessarily _fall_, from firing at so short a distance, that only _one_ pistol should be loaded with _ball_: the other having nothing but _powder_:--and that, as the Frenchman had challenged, he was to have the choice of the pistols. They parted. The seconds prepared the pistols according to agreement, and the fatal morning came. The combatants appeared, without one jot of abatement of spirit or of cool courage. The pistols lay upon the grass before them: one loaded only with powder, and the other with powder and ball. The Frenchman advanced: took up a pistol, weighed and balanced it most carefully in his hand, and then ... laid it down. He seized the other pistol, and cocking it, fixed himself upon the spot from whence he was to fire. The English youth was necessarily compelled to take the abandoned pistol. Five paces were then measured ... and on the signal being given, they both fired ... and the Frenchman fell ... DEAD UPON THE SPOT! The Frenchman had in fact _taken up_, but afterwards _laid down_, the very pistol which was loaded with the fatal _ball_--on the supposition that it was of too light a weight; and even seemed to compliment himself upon his supposed sagacity on the occasion. But to proceed. The ball went through his heart, as I understood. The second of the deceased on seeing his friend a reeking corpse at his feet, became mad and outrageous ... and was for fighting the survivor immediately! Upon which, the lad of mettle and courage replied, that he would not fight a man without a _second_--"But go," said he, (drawing his watch coolly from his fob). I will give you twenty minutes to come back again with your second." He waited, with his watch in his hand, and by the dead body of his antagonist, for the return of the Frenchman; but on the expiration of the time, his own second conjured him to consult his safety and depart; for that, from henceforth, his life was in jeopardy. He left the ground; obtained his passport, and quitted the town instantly ... The dead body of his antagonist was then placed on a bier: and his funeral was attended by several hundreds of his companions--who, armed with muskets and swords, threatened destruction to the civil and military authorities if they presumed to interfere. All this has necessarily increased the ill-blood which is admitted to exist between the English and French ... but the affair is now beginning to blow over.[105] A truce to such topics. It is now time to furnish you with some details relating to your favourite subjects of ARCHITECTURAL ANTIQUITIES and BIBLIOGRAPHY. The former shall take precedence. First of the _streets_; secondly of the _houses_; and thirdly of the _public buildings_; ecclesiastical and civil. To begin with the STREETS. Those of _St. Pierre, Notre Dame_, and _St. Jean_ are the principal for bustle and business. The first two form one continuous line, leading to the abbey of St. Stephen, and afford in fact a very interesting stroll to the observer of men and manners. The shops are inferior to those of Rouen, but a great shew of business is discernible in them. The street beyond the abbey, and those called _Guilbert_, and _des Chanoines_, leading towards the river, are considered among the genteelest. Ducarel pronounced the _houses_ of Caen "mean in general, though usually built of stone;" but I do not agree with him in this conclusion. The open parts about the _Lycée_ and the _Abbey of St. Stephen_, together with the _Place Royale_, where the library is situated, form very agreeable spaces for the promenade of the ladies and the exercise of the National Guard. The _Courts_ are full of architectural curiosities, but mostly of the time of Francis I. Of _domestic_ architecture, those houses, with elaborate carvings in wood, beneath a pointed roof, are doubtless of the greatest antiquity. There are a great number of these; and some very much older than others. A curious old house is to the right hand corner of the street _St. Jean_: as you go to the Post Office. But I must inform you that the residence of the famous MALHERBE yet exists in the street leading to the Abbey of St. Stephen. This house is of the middle of the sixteenth century: and what Corneille is to _Rouen_, Malherbe is to _Caen_. "ICI NAQUIT MALHERBE," &c. as you will perceive from the annexed view of this house, inscribed upon the front of the building. Malherbe has been doomed to receive greater honours. His head was first struck, in a series of medals, to perpetuate the resemblances of the most eminent literary characters (male and female) in France: and it is due to the amiable Pierre-Aimé Lair to designate him as the FATHER of this medallic project. [Illustration] In perambulating this town, one cannot but be surprised at the absence of _Fountains_--those charming pieces of architecture and of street embellishment. In this respect, Rouen has infinitely the advantage of Caen: where, instead of the trickling current of translucent water, we observe nothing but the partial and perturbed stream issuing from ugly _wells_[106] as tasteless in their structure as they are inconvenient in the procuring of water. Upon one or two of these wells, I observed the dates of 1560 and 1588. The PUBLIC EDIFICES, however, demand a particular and appropriate description: and first of those of the ecclesiastical order. Let us begin therefore with the ABBEY OF ST. STEPHEN; for it is the noblest and most interesting on many accounts. It is called by the name of that Saint, inasmuch as there stood formerly a chapel, on the same site, dedicated to him. The present building was completed and solemnly dedicated by William the Conqueror, in the presence of his wife, his two sons Robert and William, his favourite Archbishop Lanfranc, John Archbishop of Rouen, and Thomas Archbishop of York--towards the year 1080: but I strongly suspect, from the present prevailing character of the architecture, that nothing more than the west front and the towers upon which the spires rest, remain of its ancient structure. The spires (as the Abbé De La Rue conjectures, and as I should also have thought) are about two centuries later than the towers. The outsides of the side aisles appear to be of the thirteenth, rather than of the end of the eleventh, century. The first exterior view of the west front, and of the towers, is extremely interesting; from the grey and clear tint, as well as excellent quality, of the stone, which, according to Huet, was brought partly from Vaucelle and partly from Allemagne.[107] One of the corner abutments of one of the towers has fallen down; and a great portion of what remains seems to indicate rapid decay. The whole stands indeed greatly in need of reparation. Ducarel, if I remember rightly,[108] has made, of this whole front, a sort of elevation, as if it were intended for a wooden model to work by: having all the stiffness and precision of an erection of forty-eight hours standing only. The central tower is of very stunted dimensions, and overwhelmed by a roof in the form of an extinguisher. This, in fact, was the consequence of the devastations of the Calvinists; who absolutely sapped the foundation of the tower, with the hope of overwhelming the whole choir in ruin--but a part only of their malignant object was accomplished. The component parts of the eastern extremity are strangely and barbarously miscellaneous. However, no good commanding exterior view can be obtained from the _place_, or confined square, opposite the towers. But let us return to the west-front; and opening the unfastened green-baize covered door, enter softly and silently into the venerable interior--sacred even to the feelings of Englishmen! Of this interior, very much is changed from its original character. The side aisles retain their flattened arched roofs and pillars; and in the nave you observe those rounded pilasters--or alto-rilievo-like pillars--running from bottom to top, which are to be seen in the abbey of Jumieges. The capitals of these long pillars are comparatively of modern date. To the left on entrance, within a side chapel, is the burial place of MATILDA, the wife of the Conqueror. The tombstone attesting her interment is undoubtedly of the time. Generally speaking, the interior is cold, and dull of effect. The side chapels, of which not fewer than sixteen encircle the choir, have the discordant accompaniments of Grecian balustrades to separate them from the choir and nave. There is a good number of _Confessionals_ within them; and at one of these I saw, for the first time, _two_ women, kneeling, in the act of confession to the _same priest_. "C'est un peu fort," observed our guide in an under-voice, and with a humourous expression of countenance! Meanwhile Mr. Lewis, who was in an opposite direction in the cathedral, was exercising his pencil in the following delineation of a similar subject. [Illustration] To the right of the choir (in the sacristy, I think,) is hung the huge portrait, in oil, within a black and gilt frame, of which Ducarel has published an engraving, on the supposition of its being the portrait of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. But nothing can be more ridiculous than such a conclusion. In the first place, the picture itself, which is a palpable copy, cannot be older than a century; and, in the second place, were it an original performance, it could not be older than the time of Francis I:--when, in fact, it purports to have been executed--as a faithful copy of the figure of King William, seen by the Cardinals in 1522, who were seized with a sacred phrenzy to take a peep at the body as it might exist at that time! The costume of the oil-painting is evidently that of the period of our Henry VIII.; and to suppose that the body of William--even had it remained in so surprisingly perfect a state as Ducarel intimates, after an interment of upwards of four hundred years--could have presented such a costume, when, from Ducarel's own statement, another whole-length representation of the same person is _totally different_--and more decidedly of the character of William's time--is really quite a reproach to any antiquary who plumes himself upon the possession even of common sense. In the middle of the choir, and just before the high altar, the body of the Conqueror was entombed with great pomp; and a monument erected to his memory of the most elaborate and costly description. Nothing now remains but a flat black marble slab, with a short inscription, of quite a recent date. In the present state of the abbey,[109] and even in that of Ducarel's time, there is, and was, a great dearth of sepulchral monuments. Indeed I know not whether you need be detained another minute within the interior; except it be, to add your share of admiration to that which has been long and justly bestowed on the huge organ[110] at the west end of the nave, which is considered to be the finest in all France. But Normandy abounds in church decorations of this kind. Leaving therefore this venerable pile, endeared to the British antiquary by a thousand pleasing associations of ideas, we strike off into an adjoining court yard, and observe the ruins of a pretty extensive pile of building, which is called by Ducarel the _Palace of the Conqueror_. But in this supposed palace, in its _present_ state, most assuredly William I. _never_ resided: for it is clearly not older than the thirteenth century: if so ancient. Ducarel saw a great deal more than is now to be seen; for, in fact, as I attempted to gain entrance into what appeared to be the principal room, I was stopped by an old woman, who assured me "qu'il n'y avoit rien que du chauffage." It was true enough: the whole of the untenanted interior contained nothing but wood fuel. Returning to the principal street, and making a slight digression to the right, you descend somewhat abruptly by the side of a church in ruins, called _St. Etienne le Vieil_. In Ducarel's time this church is described as entire. On the exterior of one of the remaining buttresses is a whole length figure, about four English feet in height (as far as I could guess by the eye) of a man on horseback--mutilated--trampling upon another man at its feet. It is no doubt a curious and uncommon ornament. But, would you believe it? this figure also, in the opinion of Bourgueville,[111] was intended for William the the Conqueror--representing his triumphant entry into Caen! As an object of art, even in its present mutilated state, it is highly interesting; and I rejoice that Mr. Cotman is likely to preserve the little that remains from the hazard of destruction by the fidelity of his own copy of it.[112] It is quite clear that, close to the figure, you discover traces of style which are unequivocally of the time of Francis I. The interior of what remains of this consecrated edifice is converted "horresco referens" into a receptacle for ... carriages for hire. Not far from this spot stood formerly a magnificent CROSS--demolished during the memorable visit of the Calvinists.[113] In the way to the abbey of the Trinity, quite at the opposite or eastern extremity of the town, you necessarily pass along the _Rue St. Pierre_, and enter into the market-place, affording an opening before the most beautiful church in all Normandy. It is the church of _St. Pierre de Darnetal_ of which I now speak, and from which the name of the street is derived. The tower and spire are of the most admirable form and workmanship.[114] The extreme delicacy and picturesque effect of the stone tiles, with which the spire is covered, as well as the lightness and imposing consequence given to the tower upon which the spire rests, are of a character peculiar to itself. The whole has a charming effect. But severe criticism compels one to admit that the body of the church is defective in fine taste and unity of parts. The style is not only florid Gothic, but it is luxuriant, even to rankness, if I may so speak. The parts are capriciously put together: filled, and even crammed, with ornaments of apparently all ages: concluding with the Grecian mixture introduced in the reign of Francis I. The buttresses are, however, generally, lofty and airy. In the midst of this complicated and corrupt style of architecture, the tower and spire rise like a structure built by preternatural hands; and I am not sure that, at this moment, I can recollect any thing of equal beauty and effect in the whole range of ecclesiastical edifices in our own country. Look at this building, from any part of the town, and you must acknowledge that it has the strongest claims to unqualified admiration.[115] The body of the church is of very considerable dimensions. I entered it on a Sunday morning, about eleven o'clock, and found it quite filled with a large congregation, in which the _cauchoise_, as usual, appeared like a broad white mass--from one end to the other. The priests were in procession. One of the most magnificent organs imaginable was in full intonation, with every stop opened; the voices of the congregation were lustily exercised; and the offices of religion were carried on in a manner which would seem to indicate a warm sense of devotion among the worshippers. There is a tolerably good set of modern paintings (the best which I have yet seen in the interior of a church) of the _Life of Christ_, in the side chapels. The eastern extremity, or the further end of _Our Lady's Chapel_, is horribly bedaubed and over-loaded with the most tasteless specimens of what is called Gothic art, perhaps ever witnessed! The great bell of this church, which has an uncommonly deep and fine tone, is for ever Swinging slow with solemn roar! that is to say:--it is tolling from five in the morning till ten at night; so incessantly, in one side-chapel or another, are these offices carried on within this maternal parish church.[116] I saw, with momentary astonishment, the leaning tower of a church in the _Rue St. Jean_,[117] which is one of the principal streets in the town: and which is terminated by the _Place des Cazernes_, flanked by the river Orne. In this street I was asked, by a bookseller, two pounds two shillings, for a thumbed and cropt copy of the _Elzevir-Heinsius Horace_ of 1629; but with which demand I did not of course comply. In fact, they have the most extravagant notions of the prices of Elzevirs, both here and at Rouen. You must now attend me to the most interesting public building, perhaps all things considered, which is to be seen at Caen. I mean, the _Abbey of the Holy Trinity_, or L'ABBAYE AUX DAMES.[118] This abbey was founded by the wife of the Conqueror, about the same time that William erected that of St. Stephen. Ducarel's description of it, which I have just seen in a copy of the _Anglo-Norman Antiquities_, in a bookseller's shop, is sufficiently meagre. His plates are also sufficiently miserable: but things are strangely altered since his time. The nave of the church is occupied by a manufactory for making cordage, or twine; and upwards of a hundred lads are now busied in their _flaxen_ occupations, where formerly the nun knelt before the cross, or was occupied in auricular confession. The entrance at the western extremity is entirely stopped up: but the exterior gives manifest proof of an antiquity equal to that of the Abbey of St. Stephen. The upper part of the towers are palpably of the fifteenth, or rather of the early part of the sixteenth century. I had no opportunity of judging of the neat pavement of the floor of the nave, in white and black marble, as noticed by Ducarel, on account of the occupation of this part of the building by the manufacturing children; but I saw some very ancient tomb-stones (one I think of the twelfth century) which had been removed from the nave or side aisles, and were placed against the sides of the north transept. The nave is entirely _walled up_ from the transepts, but the choir is fortunately preserved; and a more perfect and interesting specimen of its kind, of the same antiquity, is perhaps no where to be seen in Normandy. All the monuments as well as the altars, described by Ducarel, are now taken away. Having ascended a stone staircase, we got into the upper part of the choir, above the first row of pillars--and walked along the wall. This was rather adventurous, you will say: but a more adventurous spirit of curiosity had nearly proved fatal to me: for, on quitting daylight, we pursued a winding stone staircase, in our way to the central tower--to enjoy from hence a view of the town. I almost tremble as I relate it. There had been put up a sort of temporary wooden staircase, leading absolutely to ... nothing: or, rather, to a dark void space. I happened to be foremost in ascending, yet groping in the dark--with the guide luckily close behind me. Having reached the topmost step, I was raising my foot to a supposed higher or succeeding step ... but there was _none_. A depth of eighteen feet at least was below me. The guide caught my coat, as I was about to lose my balance--and roared out "Arrêtez--tenez!" The least balance or inclination, one way or the other, is sufficient, upon these critical occasions: when luckily, from his catching my coat, and pulling me in consequence slightly backwards, my fall ... and my LIFE ... were equally saved! I have reason from henceforth to remember the ABBAYE AUX DAMES at Caen. I gained the top of the central tower, which is not of equal altitude with those of the western extremity, and from thence surveyed the town, as well as the drizzling rain would permit. I saw enough however to convince me that the site of this abbey is fine and commanding. Indeed it stands nearly upon the highest ground in the town. Ducarel had not the glorious ambition to mount to the top of the tower; nor did he even possess that most commendable of all species of architectural curiosity, a wish to visit the CRYPT. Thus, in either extremity--I evinced a more laudable spirit of enterprise than did my old-fashioned predecessor. Accordingly, from the summit, you must accompany me to the lowest depth of the building. I descended by the same (somewhat intricate) route, and I took especial care to avoid all "temporary wooden stair-cases." The crypt, beneath the choir, is perhaps of yet greater interest and beauty than the choir itself. Within an old, very old, stone coffin--at the further circular end--are the pulverized remains of one of the earliest Abbesses.[119] I gazed around with mixed sensations of veneration and awe, and threw myself back into centuries past, fancying that the shrouded figure of MATILDA herself glided by, with a look as if to approve of my antiquarian enthusiasm! Having gratified my curiosity by a careful survey of this subterraneous abode, I revisited the regions of day-light, and made towards the large building, now a manufactory, which in Ducarel's time had been a nunnery. The revolution has swept away every human being in the character of a nun; but the director of the manufactory shewed me, with great civility, some relics of old crosses, rings, veils, lachrymatories, &c. which had been taken from the crypt I had recently visited. These relics savoured of considerable antiquity. Tom Hearne would have set about proving that they _must_ have belonged to Matilda herself; but I will have neither the presumption nor the merit of attempting this proof. They seemed indeed to have undergone half a dozen decompositions. Upon the whole, if our Antiquarian Society, after having exhausted the cathedrals of their own country, should ever think of perpetuating the principal ecclesiastical edifices of Normandy, by means of the _Art of Engraving_, let them begin their labours with the ABBAYE AUX DAMES at Caen. The foregoing, my dear friend, are the principal ecclesiastical buildings in this place. There are other public edifices, but comparatively of a modern date. And yet I should be guilty of a gross omission were I to neglect giving you an account, however superficial, of the remains of an apparently CASTELLATED BUILDING, a little beyond the Abbaye aux Dames--or rather to the right, upon elevated ground, as you enter the town by the way we came. As far as I can discover, this appears to have escaped Ducarel.[120] It is doubtless a very curious relic. Running along the upper part of the walls, there is a series of basso-relievo heads, medallion-wise, cut in stone, evidently intended for portraits. They are assuredly not older than the reign of Francis I. and may be even as late as that of Henry II. Among these rude medallions, is a female head, with a ferocious-looking man on each side of it, either saluting the woman, or whispering in her ear. But the most striking objects are the stone figures of two men, upon a circular tower, of which one is in the act of shooting an arrow, and the other as if holding a drawn sword. I got admittance within the building; and ascending the tower, found that these were only the _trunks_ of figures,--and removable at pleasure. I could only stroke their beards and shake their bodies a little, which was of course done with impunity. Whether the present be the _original_ place of their destination may be very doubtful. The Abbé de la Rue, with whom I discoursed upon the subject yesterday morning, is of opinion that these figures are of the time of Louis XI.: which makes them a little more ancient than the other ornaments of the building. As to the interior, I could gather nothing with certainty of the original character of the place from the present remains. The earth is piled up, here and there, in artificial mounds covered with grass: and an orchard, and rich pasture land (where I saw several women milking cows) form the whole of the interior scenery. However the _Caennois_ are rather proud of this building. Leaving you to your own conclusions respecting the date of its erection, and "putting the colophon" to this disquisition respecting the principal public buildings at Caen, it is high time to assure you how faithfully I am always yours. [96] ["Besides her numerous public schools, Caen possesses two Schools of Art--one for design, the other for Architecture and Ornament--where the Students are _gratuitously_ instructed." LICQUET.] [97] It is called _Vin Huet_--and is the last wine which a traveller will be disposed to ask for. When Henry IV. passed through the town, he could not conceive why such excellent grapes should produce such execrable wine. I owe this intelligence to Mons. LICQUET. [98] Somewhere about 150 English acres. [99] [I had before said _twenty_--but Mons. Licquet observes, I might have said--thirty thousand pairs of hands.] [100] Caen was celebrated for its table linen three centuries ago. Consult BOURGUEVILLE: _Antiquitez de Caen_; 1588, 8vo. p. 26. [101] The fauxbourgs of Caen, in the present day, wear a melancholy contrast to what they appear to have done in the middle of the XVIth century. Consult the pleasantly penned description of these fauxbourgs by the first topographer of the place, BOURGUEVILLE: in his _Antiquitez de Caen_, pp. 5, 6, 26. It may be worth subjoining, from the same interesting authority, that long after the time even of the publication just referred to, the town of Caen was surrounded by lofty and thick stone walls--upon the tops of which three men could walk a-breast: and from thence the inhabitants could discern, across those large and beautiful gardens, "the vessels sailing in the river Orne, and unloading their cargoes by the sides of walls." It appears indeed to have been a sort of lounge, or fashionable promenade--by means of various ladders for the purposes of ascent and descent. Among the old prints and bird's-eye views of Caen, which I saw in the collection of DE BOZE at the Royal Library at Paris, there is one accompanied by three pages of printed description, which begins with the lines of Guillaume Breton "Villa potens, opulenta, situ spatiosa decora." See First Edition, vol. i. p. 274. Evelyn, in 1644, thus describes the town of Caen. "The whole town is handsomely built of that excellent stone so well knowne by that name in England. I was lead to a pretty garden, planted with hedges of Alaternus, having at the entrance, at an exceeding height, accurately cut in topiary worke, with well understood architecture, consisting of pillars, niches, freezes, and other ornaments, with greate curiosity, &c. _Life and Writings of J. Evelyn_, 1818, 4to. vol. i. p. 52. [102] See the OPPOSITE PLATE. [103] It was a similar dépôt in Ducarel's time. [104] The story was in fact told us the very first night of our arrival, by M. Lagouelle, the master of the hotel royale. He went through it with a method, emphasis, and energy, rendered the more striking from the obesity of his figure and the vulgarity of his countenance. But he frankly allowed that "Monsieur l'Anglois se conduisait bien." [105] [The affair is now scarcely remembered; and the successful champion died a natural death within about three years afterwards. Mons. Licquet slenderly doubts portions of this tragical tale: but I have good reason to believe that it is not an exaggerated one. As to what occurred _after_ the death of one of the combatants, I am unwilling to revive unpleasant sensations by its recapitulation.] [106] Bourgueville seems bitterly to lament the substitution of wells for fountains. He proposes a plan, quite feasible in his own estimation, whereby this desirable object might be effected: and then retorts upon his townsmen by reminding them of the commodious fountains at _Lisieux, Falaise and Vire_--of which the inhabitants "n'ont rien espargné pour auoir ceste decoration et commodité en leurs villes."--spiritedly adding--"si j'estois encore en auctorité, j'y ferois mon pouuoir, et ie y offre de mes biens." p. 17. [107] [I am most prompt to plead guilty to a species of _Hippopotamos_ error, in having here translated the word _Allemagne_ into GERMANY! Now, although this translation, per se, be correct, yet, as applicable to the text, it is most incorrect--as the _Allemagne_ in question happens to be a _Parish in the neighbourhood of Caen_! My translator, in turn, treats me somewhat tenderly when he designates this as "une méprise fort singulière." vol. ii. p. 25.] [108] The plate of Ducarel, here alluded to, forms the fourth plate in his work; affording, from the starch manner in which it is engraved, an idea of one of the most disproportioned, ugly buildings imaginable. Mr. Cotman has favoured us with a good bold etching of the West Front, and of the elevation of compartments of the Nave; The former is at once faithful and magnificent; but the lower part wants characteristic markings. [109] It should be noticed that, "besides the immense benefactions which William in his life time conferred upon this abbey, he, on his death, presented thereto the _crown_ which he used to wear at all high festivals, together with his _sceptre and rod_: a cup set with precious stones; his candlesticks of gold, and all his regalia: as also the ivory bugle-horn which usually hung at his back." _Anglo-Norman Antiquities_, p. 51. note. The story of the breaking open of the coffin by the Calvinists, and finding the Conqueror's remains, is told by Bourgueville--who was an _eye witness_ of these depredations, and who tried to "soften the obdurate hearts" of the pillagers, but in vain. This contemporaneous historian observes that, in his time "the abbey was filled with beautiful and curious stained-glass windows and harmonious organs, which were all broken and destroyed--and that the seats, chairs, &c. and all other wooden materials were consumed by fire," p.171. Huet observes that a "Dom Jean de Baillehache and Dom Matthieu de la Dangie," religious of St. Stephen's, took care of the monument of the Conqueror in the year 1642, and replaced it in the state in which it appeared in Huet's time." _Origines de Caen_; p.248. The revolution was still more terrible than the Calvinistic fury;--for no traces of the monument are now to be seen. [110] The west window is almost totally obscured by a most gigantic organ built close to it, and allowed to be the finest in all France. This organ is so big, as to require eleven large bellows, &c. _Ducarel_, p.57. He then goes on to observe, that "amongst the plate preserved in the treasury of this church, is a curious SILVER SALVER, about ten inches in diameter, gilt, and inlaid with antique medals. Tradition assures us, that it was on this salver, that king William the conqueror placed the foundation charter of the abbey when he presented it, at the high altar, on the dedication of the church. The edges of this salver, which stands on a foot stalk of the same metal, are a little turned up, and carved. In the centre is inlaid a Greek medal; on the obverse whereof is this legend, [Greek: Ausander Aukonos] but it being fixed in its socket, the reverse is not visible. The other medals, forty in number, are set round the rim, in holes punched quite through; so that the edges of the holes serve as frames for the medals. These medals are Roman, and in the highest preservation." [111] Yet Bourgueville's description of the group, as it appeared in his time, trips up the heels of his own conjecture. He says that there were, besides the two figures above mentioned, "vn autre homme et femme à genoux, comme s'ils demandoient raison de la mort de leur enfant, qui est vne antiquité de grand remarque dont je ne puis donner autre certitude de l'histoire." _Antiquitez de Caen_; p.39. Now, it is this additional portion of the group (at present no longer in existence) which should seem to confirm the conjecture of my friend Mr. Douce--that it is a representation of the received story, in the middle ages, of the Emperor Trajan being met by a widow who demanded justice against the murderer of her son. The Emperor, who had just mounted his horse to set out upon some hostile expedition, replied, that "he would listen to her on his return." The woman said, "What, if you never return?" "My successor will satisfy you"--he replied--"But how will that benefit you,"--resumed the widow. The Emperor then descended from his horse, and enquiring into the woman's case, caused justice to be done to her. Some of the stories say that the murderer was the Emperor's own son. [112] [Since the publication of the first edition of this work, the figure in question has appeared from the pencil and burin of Mr. Cotman; of which the only fault, as it strikes me, is, that the surface is too rough--or the effect too sketchy.] [113] Bourgueville has minutely described it in his _Antiquities_; and his description is copied in the preceding edition of this work. [114] Bourgueville is extremely particular and even eloquent in his account of the tower, &c. He says that he had "seen towers at Paris, Rouen, Toulouse, Avignon, Narbonne, Montpelier, Lyons, Amiens, Chartres, Angiers, Bayeux, Constances, (qu. Coutances?) and those of St. Stephen at Caen, and others, in divers parts of France, which are built in a pyramidal form--but THIS TOWER OT ST. PETER exceeded all the others, as well in its height, as in its curious form of construction." _Antiq. de Caen_; p.36. He regrets, however, that the _name of the architect_ has not descended to us. [It is right to correct an error, in the preceding edition, which has been committed on the authority of Ducarel. That Antiquary supposed the tower and spire to have been built by the generosity of one NICHOLAS, an ENGLISHMAN." Mons. Licquet has, I think, reclaimed the true author of such munificence, as his _own_ countryman.--NICOLAS LANGLOIS:--whose name thus occurs in his epitaph, preserved by Bourgueville. _Le Vendredi, devant tout droict_ _La Saint Cler que le temps n'est froit,_ _Trespassa_ NICOLLE L'ANGLOIS, _L'an Mil Trois Cens et Dix Sept._] &c. &c. Reverting, to old BOURGUEVILLE, I cannot take leave of him without expressing my hearty thanks for the amusement and information which his unostentatious octavo volume--entitled _Les Recherches et Antiquitez de la Ville et Université de Caen, &c_. (à Caen, 1588, 8vo.) has afforded me. The author, who tells us he was born in 1504, lived through the most critical and not unperilous period of the times in which he wrote. His plan is perfectly artless, and his style as completely simple. Nor does his fidelity appear impeachable. Such ancient volumes of topography are invaluable--as preserving the memory of things and of objects, which, but for such record, had perished without the hope or chance of recovery. [115] [Ten years have elapsed since this sentence was written, and the experience gained in those years only confirms the truth (according to the conception of the author) of the above assertion. Such a tower and spire, if found in England, must be looked for in Salisbury Cathedral; but though this latter be much loftier, it is stiff, cold, and formal, comparatively with that of which the text makes mention.] [116] [For six months in the year--that is to say, from Lady Day till Michaelmas Day--this great Bell tolls, at a quarter before ten, as a curfew.] [117] A plate of it may be found in the publication of Mr. Dawson Turner, and of Mr. Cotman. [118] Of this building Mr. Cotman has published the West front, east end, exterior and interior; great arches under the tower; crypt; east side of south transept; elevation of the North side of the choir: elevation of the window; South side exterior; view down the nave, N.W. direction. [119] Bourgueville describes the havoc which took place within this abbey at the memorable visit of the Calvinists in 1562. From plundering the church of St. Stephen (as before described p. 172,) they proceeded to commit similar ravages here:--"sans auoir respect ni reuerence à la Dame Abbesse, ni à la religion et douceur feminine des Dames Religieuses."--"plusieurs des officiers de la maison s'y trouucrent, vsans de gracieuses persuasions, pour penser flechir le coeur de ces plus que brutaux;" p. 174. [120] Unless it be what he calls "the FORT OF THE HOLY TRINITY of Caen; in which was constantly kept a garrison, commanded by a captain, whose annual pay was 100 single crowns. This was demolished by Charles, king of Navarre, in the year 1360, during the war which he carried on against Charles the Dauphin, afterwards Charles V., &c." _Anglo-Norman Antiquities_, p. 67. This castle, or the building once flanked by the walls above described, was twice taken by the English; once in 1346, when they made an immense booty, and loaded their ships with the gold and silver vessels found therein; and the second time in 1417, when they established themselves as masters of the place for 33 years. _Annuaire du Calvados_; 1803-4; p. 63. LETTER XIII. LITERARY SOCIETY. ABBÉ DE LA RUE. MESSRS. PIERRE-AIMÉ LAIR AND LAMOUROUX. MEDAL OF MALHERBE. BOOKSELLERS. MEMOIR OF THE LATE M. MOYSANT, PUBLIC LIBRARIAN. COURTS OF JUSTICE. From the dead let me conduct you to the living. In other words, prepare to receive some account of _Society_,--and of things appertaining to the formation of the intellectual character. Caen can boast of a public Literary Society, and of the publication of its memoirs.[121] But these "memoirs" consist at present of only six volumes, and are in our own country extremely rare. [Illustration: ABBÉ DE LA RUE AEtat. LXXIV.] Among the men whose moral character and literary reputation throw a sort of lustre upon Caen, there is no one perhaps that stands upon _quite_ so lofty an eminence as the ABBÉ DE LA RUE; at this time occupied in publishing a _History of Caen_.[122] As an archaeologist, he has no superior among his countrymen; while his essays upon the _Bayeux Tapestry_ and the _Anglo-Norman Poets_, published in our _Archæologia_, prove that there are few, even among ourselves, who could have treated those interesting subjects with more dexterity or better success. The Abbé is, in short, the great archaeological oracle of Normandy. He was pleased to pay me a Visit at Lagouelle's. He is fast advancing towards his seventieth year. His figure is rather stout, and above the mean height: his complexion is healthful, his eye brilliant, and a plentiful quantity of waving white hair adds much to the expression of his countenance.[123] He enquired kindly after our mutual friend Mr. Douce; of whose talents and character he spoke in a manner which did equal honour to both. But he was inexorable, as to--_not_ dining with me; observing that his Order was forbidden to dine in taverns. He gave me a list of places which I ought to visit in my further progress through Normandy, and took leave of me more abruptly than I could have wished. He rarely visits Caen, although a great portion of his library is kept there: his abode being chiefly in the country, at the residence of a nobleman to whose son he was tutor. It is delightful to see a man, of his venerable aspect and widely extended reputation, enjoying, in the evening of life, (after braving such a tempest, in the noon-day of it, as that of the Revolution) the calm, unimpaired possession of his faculties, and the respect of the virtuous and the wise. The study of _Natural History_ obtains pretty generally at Caen; indeed they have an Academy in which this branch of learning is expressly taught--and of which MONSIEUR LAMOUROUX[124] is at once the chief ornament and instructor. This gentleman (to whom our friend Mr. Dawson Turner furnished me with a letter of introduction) has the most unaffected manners, and a countenance particularly open and winning. He is "a very dragon" in his pursuit. On my second call, I found him busied in unpacking some baskets of seaweed, yet reeking with the briny moisture; and which he handled and separated and classed with equal eagerness and facility. The library of M. Lamouroux is quite a workman-like library: filled with sensible, solid, and instructive books--and if he had only accepted a repeated and strongly-pressed invitation to dine with me at Lagouelle's, to meet his learned brother PIERRE-AIMÉ LAIR, nothing would have been wanting to the completion of his character! You have just heard the name of Pierre-Aimé Lair. Prepare to receive a sketch of the character to which that name appertains. This gentleman is not only the life and soul of the society--but of the very town--in which he moves. I walked with him, arm in arm, more than once, through very many streets, passages, and courts, which were distinguished for any relic of architectural antiquity. He was recognised and saluted by nearly one person out of three, in our progress. "Je vous salue"--"vous voilà avec Monsieur l'Anglois"--"bon jour,"--"comment ca va-t-il:"--The activity of Pierre-Aimé Lair is only equalled by his goodness of heart and friendliness of disposition. He is all kindness. Call when you will, and ask for what you please, the object solicited is sure to be granted. He never seems to rise (and he is a very early riser) with spleen, ill-humour, or untoward propensities. With him, the sun seems always to shine, and the lark to tune her carol. And this cheerfulness of feeling is carried by him into every abode however gloomy, and every society however dull. But more substantial praise belongs to this amiable man. Not only is Pierre-Aimé Lair a lover and collector of tangible antiquities--such as glazed tiles, broken busts, old pictures, and fractured capitals--all seen in "long array", up the windings of his staircase--but he is a critic, and a patron of the _literary_ antiquities of his country. Caen (as I told you in my last despatch) is the birth-place of MALHERBE; and, in the character now under discussion, it has found a perpetuator of the name and merits of the father of French verse. In the year 1806 our worthy antiquary put forth a project for a general subscription "for a medal in honour of _Malherbe_,"[125] which project was in due time rewarded by the names of _fifteen hundred_ efficient subscribers, at five francs a piece. The proposal was doubtless flattering to the literary pride of the French; and luckily the execution of it surpassed the expectations of the subscribers. The head is undoubtedly of the most perfect execution. Not only, however, did this head of Malherbe succeed--but a feeling was expressed that it might be followed up by a _Series of Heads_ of the most illustrious, of both sexes, in literature and the fine arts. The very hint was enough for Lair: though I am not sure whether he be not the father of the _latter_ design also. Accordingly, there has appeared, periodically, a set of heads of this description, in bronze or other metal, as the purchaser pleases--which has reflected infinite credit not only on the name of the projector of this scheme, but on the present state of the fine arts in France. Yet another word about Pierre-Aimé Lair. He is not so inexorable as M. Lamouroux: for he _has_ dined with me, and quaffed the burgundy and champagne of Lagouelle, commander in chief of this house. Better wines cannot be quaffed; and Malherbe and the Duke of Wellington formed the alternate subjects of discourse and praise. In return, I have dined with our guest. He had prepared an abundant dinner, and a very select society: but although there was no wand, as in the case of Sancho Panza, to charm away the dishes, &c. or to interdict the tasting of them, yet it was scarcely possible to partake of one in four... so unmercifully were they steeped and buried in _butter!_ The principal topic of discourse, were the merits of the poets of the respective countries of France and England, from which I have reason to think that Pope, Thomson, and Young, are among the greatest favourites with the French. The white brandy of Pierre-Aimé Lair, introduced after dinner, is hardly to be described for its strength and pungency. "Vous n'avez rien comme ca chez vous?" "Je le crois bien, (I replied) c'est la liquéfaction même du feu." We broke up before eight; each retiring to his respective avocations--but did not dine till five. I borrowed, however, "an hour or twain" of the evening, after the departure of the company, to enjoy the more particular conversation of our host; and the more I saw and conversed with him; the greater was my gratification. At parting, he loaded me with a pile of pamphlets, of all sizes, of his own publication; and I ventured to predict to him that he would terminate his multifarious labours by settling into consolidated BIBLIOMANIACISM. "On peut faire pire!"--was his reply--on shaking hands with me, and telling me he should certainly meet me again at _Bayeux_, in my progress through Normandy.[126] My acquaintance with this amiable man seemed to be my security from insults in the streets. Education here commences early, and with incitements as alluring as at Rouen. POISSON in the _Rue Froide_ is the principal, and indeed a very excellent, printer; but BONNESERRE, in the same street, has put forth a vastly pretty manual of infantine devotion, in a brochure of eight pages, of which I send you the first, and which you may compare with the specimen transmitted in a former letter.[127] [Illustration] Chapolin, in the _Rue-Froide-Rue,_ has recently published a most curious little manual, in the cursive secretary gothic, entitled "_La Civilité honnête pour les enfans qui commence par la maniere d'apprendre et bien lire, prononcer et écrire_." I call it "curious," because the very first initial letter of the text, representing C, introduces us to the _bizarrerie_ of the early part of the XVIth century in treatises of a similar character. Take this first letter, with a specimen also of those to which it appertains. [Illustration] This work is full of the old fashioned (and not a bit the worse on that account) precepts of the same period; such as we see in the various versions of the "De Moribus Juvenum," of which the "_Contenance de la Table,"_ in the French language, is probably the most popular. It is executed throughout in the same small and smudged gothic character; and, as I conceive; can have few purchasers. The printers of Caen must not be dismissed without respectful mention of the typographical talents of LE ROY; who ranks after Poisson. Let both these be considered as the Bulmer and Bensley of the place. But among these venders of infantine literature, or of cheap popular pieces, there is no man who "drives such a trade" as PICARD-GUERIN, _Imprimeur en taille-douce et Fabricant d'Images_," who lives in the _Rue des Teinturiers,_ no.175. I paid him more than one visit; as, from, his "fabrication," issue the thousands and tens of thousands of broadsides, chap-books, &c. &c. which inundate Lower Normandy. You give from _one_ to _three_ sous, according as the subject be simple or compound, upon wood or upon copper:--Saints, martyrs, and scriptural subjects; or heroes, chieftains, and monarchs, including the Duke of Wellington and Louis XVIII. le Désiré--are among the taille-douces specified in the imprints. Madame did me the honour of shewing me some of her choicest treasures, as her husband was from home. Up stairs was a parcel of mirthful boys and girls, with painting brushes in their hands, and saucers of various colours before them. Upon enquiry, I found that they received four sous per dozen, for colouring; but I will not take upon me to say that they were over or under paid--of so _equivocal_ a character were their performances. Only I hoped to be excused if I preferred the plain to the coloured. In a foreign country, our notice is attracted towards things perhaps the most mean and minute. With this feeling, I examined carefully what was put before me, and made a selection sufficient to shew that it was the produce of French soil. Among the serious subjects were _two_ to which I paid particular attention. The one was a metrical cantique of the _Prodigal Son,_ with six wood cuts above the text, exhibiting the leading points of the Gospel-narrative. I will cut out and send you the _second_ of these six: in which you will clearly perceive the military turn which seems to prevail throughout France in things the most minute. The Prodigal is about to mount his horse and leave his father's house, in the cloke and cock'd hat of a French officer. [Illustration] The _fourth_ of these cuts is droll enough. It is entitled, "_L'Enfant Prodigue est chassé par ses maîtresses."_ The expulsion consists in the women driving him out of doors with besoms and hair-brooms. It is very probable, however, that all this character of absurdity attaches to some of our own representations of the same subject; if, instead of examining (as in Pope's time) ... the walls of Bedlam and Soho, we take a survey of the graphic broadsides which dangle from strings upon the wall at Hyde Park Corner. Another subject of a serious character, which I am about to describe to you, can rarely, in all probability, be the production of a London artist. It is called "_Notre-Dame de la bonne Délivrande_," and is necessarily confined to the religion of the country. You have here, first of all, a reduced form of the original: probably about one-third--and it is the more appropriate, as it will serve to give you a very correct notion of the dressing out of the figures of the VIRGIN and CHILD which are meant to grace the altars of the chapels of the Virgin in most of the churches in Normandy. Is it possible that one spark of devotion can be kindled by the contemplation of an object so grotesque and so absurd in the House of God? [Illustration: SAINTE MARIE, MÈRE DE DIEU, priez pour nous] To describe all the trumpery which is immediately around it, in the original, would be a waste of time; but below are two good figures to the right, and two wretched ones to the left. Beneath the whole, is the following _accredited_ consoling piece of intelligence: L'AN 830, _des Barbares descendent dans les Gaules, massacrent les Fidèles, profanent et brûlent les Eglises. Raoul, Duc de Normandie, se joint à eux; l'image de la Ste. Vierge demeure ensevelie sous les ruines de l'ancienne chapelle jusqu'au règne de Henri I. l'an 1331. Beaudouin, Baron de Douvres, averti par son berger qu'un mouton de son troupeau fouillait toujours dans le même endroit, fit ouvrir la terre, et trouva ce trésor caché depuis tant d'années. Il fit porter processionnellement cette sainte image dans l'Eglise de Douvres: mais Dieu permit qu'elle fut transportée par un Ange dans l'endroit de la chapelle où elle est maintenant révérée. C'est dans cette chapelle que, par l'intercession de Marie, les pécheurs reçoivent leur conversion, les affligés leur consolation, les infirmes la santé, les captifs leur delivrance, que ceux qui sont en mer échappent aux tempêtes et au naufrage, et que des miracles s'opèrent journellement sur les pieux Fidèles_. A word now for BIBLIOPOLISTS--including _Bouquinistes_, or venders of "old and second-hand books." The very morning following my arrival in Caen, I walked to the abbey of St. Stephen, before breakfast, and in the way thither stopped at a book stall, to the right,--and purchased some black letter folios: among which the French version of _Caesar's Commentaries,_ printed by Verard, in 1488, was the most desirable acquisition. It is reserved for Lord Spencer's library;[128] at a price which, freight and duty included, cannot reach the sum of twelve shillings of our money. Of venders of second hand and old books, the elder and younger MANOURY take a decisive lead. The former lives in the _Rue Froide_; the latter in the _Rue Notre Dame._ The father boasts of having upwards of thirty thousand volumes, but I much doubt whether his stock amount to one half of that number. He unhesitatingly asked me two _louis d'or_ for a copy of the _Vaudevires_ of OLIVIER BASSELIN, which is a modern, but privately printed, volume; and of which I hope to give you some amusing particulars by and by. He also told me that he had formerly sold a paper copy of _Fust's Bible of 1462,_ with many of the illuminated initials cut out, to the library of the Arsenal, at Paris, for 100 louis d'or. I only know that, if I had been librarian, he should not have had one half the money. Now for Manoury the younger. Old and young are comparative terms: for be it known that the son is "agé de soixante ans." Over his door you read an ancient inscription, thus: "_Battu, percé, lié, Je veux changer de main_." This implies either (like Aladdin's old lamps for new) that he wishes to give new books in exchange for old ones, or that he can smarten up old ones by binding, or otherwise, and give them a renovated appearance. But the solution is immaterial: the inscription being as above. The interior of the younger Manoury's book repository almost appalled me. His front shop, and a corridor communicating with the back part of the house, are rank with moisture; and his books are consequently rotting apace. Upon my making as pitiable a statement as I was able of this melancholy state of things--and pleading with all my energies against the inevitable destruction which threatened the dear books--the obdurate bibliopolist displayed not one scintillation of sympathy. He was absolutely indifferent to the whole concern. In the back parlour, almost impervious to day-light, his daughter, and a stout and handsome bourgeoise, with rather an unusually elevated cauchoise, were regaling themselves with soup and herbs at dinner. I hurried through, in my way to the upper regions, with apologies for the intrusion; but was told that none were necessary--that I might go where, and stay as long, as I pleased--and that any explanation would be given to my interrogatories in the way of business. I expressed my obligations for such civility; and gaining an upper room, by the help of a chair, made a survey of its contents. What piles of interminable rubbish! I selected, as the only rational or desirable volume--half rotted with moisture--_Belon's Marine Fishes_, 1551, 4to; and placing six francs (the price demanded) upon the table, hurried back, through this sable and dismal territory, with a sort of precipitancy amounting to horrour. What struck me, as productive of a very extraordinary effect--was the cheerfulness and _gaieté de coeur_ of these females, in the midst of this region of darkness and desolation. Manoury told me that the Revolution had deprived him of the opportunity of having the finest bookselling stock in France! His own carelessness and utter apathy are likely to prove yet more destructive enemies. But let us touch a more "spirit-stirring" chord in the book theme. Let us leave the _Bouquiniste_ for the PUBLIC LIBRARY: and I invite you most earnestly to accompany me thither, and to hear matters of especial import. This library occupies the upper part of a fine large stone building, devoted to the public offices of government. The plan of the library is exceedingly striking; in the shape of a cross. It measures one hundred and thirty-four, by eighty, French feet; and is supposed, apparently with justice, to contain 20,000 volumes. It is proportionably wide and lofty. M. HÉBERT is the present chief librarian, having succeeded the late M. Moysant, his uncle. Among the more eminent benefactors and Bibliomaniacs, attached to this library, the name of FRANCOIS MARTIN is singularly conspicuous. He was, from all accounts, and especially from the information of M. Hébert, one of the most raving of book-madmen: but he displayed, withal, a spirit of kindness and liberality towards his favourite establishment at Caen, which could not be easily shaken or subdued. He was also a man of letters, and evinced that most commendable of all literary propensities--a love of the LITERATURE OF HIS COUNTRY. He amassed a very large collection of books, which was cruelly pillaged during the Revolution; but the public library became possessed of a great number of them. In those volumes, formerly belonging to him, which are now seen, is the following printed inscription: "_Franciscus Martin, Doctor Theologus Parisiensis, comparavit. Oretur pro co_." He was head of the convent of Cordeliers, and Prefect of the Province: but his mode of collecting was not always that which a public magistrate would call _legitimate_. He sought books every where; and when he could not _buy_ them, or obtain them by fair means, he would _steal_ them, and carry them home in the sleeves of his gown! He flourished about a century ago; and, with very few exceptions, all the best conditioned books in the library belonged to this magisterial book-robber. Among them I noted down with singular satisfaction the Aldine edition of _Stephanus de Urbibus_, 1502, folio--in its old vellum binding: seemly to the eye, and comfortable to the touch. Nor did his copy of the _Repertorium Statutorum Ordinis Cartusiensis_, printed by _Amerbach, at Basil_, in a glorious gothic character, 1510, folio, escape my especial notice--also the same Bibliomaniac's beautiful copy of the _Mentz Herbal_, of 1484, in 4to. But the obliquities of Martin assume a less questionable aspect, when we contemplate a noble work, which he not only projected, but left behind ready for publication. It is thus entitled: _Athenæ Normannorum veteres ac recentes, seu syllabus Auctorum qui oriundi è Normannia, &c._ It consists of one volume, in MS., having the authority of government, to publish it, prefixed. There is a short Latin preface, by Martin, followed by two pages of Latin verses beginning thus: _In Auctorum Normannicorum Syllabum. Prolusio metrica. En Syllabus prodit palàm Contextus arte sedula Ex litteratæ Neustriæ Auctoribus celebribus._ &c. &c. Among the men, the memories of whom throw a lustre upon Caen,[129] was the famous SAMUEL BOCHART; at once a botanist, a scholar, and a critic of distinguished celebrity. He was a native of Rouen, and his books (many of them replete with valuable ms. notes) are among the chief treasures of the public library, here. Indeed there is a distinct catalogue of them, and the funds left by their illustrious owner form the principal support of the library establishment. Bochart's portrait, with those of many other benefactors to the library, adorns the walls; suspended above the books: affording a very agreeable coup-d'oeil. Indeed the principal division of the library, the further end of which commands a pleasant prospect, is worthy of an establishment belonging to the capital of an empire. The kindness of M. Hébert, and of his assistant, rendered my frequent sojournings therein yet more delectable. The portrait of his uncle, M. MOYSANT, is among the ornaments of the chief room. Though Moysant was large of stature, his lungs were feeble, and his constitution was delicate. At the age of nineteen, he was appointed professor of grammar and rhetoric in the college of Lisieux. He then went to Paris, and studied under Beau and Batteux; when, applying himself more particularly to the profession of physic, he returned to Caen, in his thirtieth year, and put on the cap of Doctor of medicine; but he wanted either nerves or stamina for the successful exercise of his profession. He had cured a patient, after painful and laborious attention, of a very serious illness; but his patient chose to take liberties too soon with his convalescent state. He was imprudent: had a relapse; and was hurried to his grave. Moysant took it seriously to heart, and gave up his business in precipitancy and disgust. In fact, he was of too sanguine and irritable a temperament for the display of that cool, cautious, and patient conduct, which it behoveth all young physicians to adopt, ere they can possibly hope to attain the honours or the wealth of the _Halfords_ and _Matons_ of the day! Our Moysant returned to the study of his beloved belles-lettres. At that moment, luckily, the Society of the Jesuits was suppressed; and he was called by the King, in 1763, to fill the chair of Rhetoric in one of the finest establishments of that body at Caen. He afterwards successively became perpetual Secretary of the Academy of Sciences, and Vice-President of the Society of Agriculture. He was next dubbed by the University, Dean of the faculty of arts, and was selected to pronounce the public oration upon the marriage of the unfortunate Louis XVI. with Marie Antoinette. He was now a marked and distinguished public character. The situation of PUBLIC LIBRARIAN was only wanting to render his reputation complete, and _that_ he instantly obtained upon the death of his predecessor. With these occupations, he united that of instructing the English (who were always in the habit of visiting Caen,) in the French language; and he obtained, in return, from some of his adult pupils, a pretty good notion of the laws and liberties of Old England. The Revolution now came on: when, like many of his respectable brethren, he hailed it at first as the harbinger of national reformation and prosperity. But he had soon reason to find that he had been deceived. However, in the fervour of the moment, and upon the suppression of the monastic and other public libraries, he received a very wide and unqualified commission to search all the libraries in the department of _Calvados_, and to bring home to Caen all the treasures he might discover. He set forth upon this mission with truly public spirited ideas: resolving (says his nephew) to do for Normandy what Dugdale and Dodsworth had done for England--and a _Monasticum Neustriacum_ was the commendable object of his ambition. He promised much, and perhaps did more than he promised. His curious collection (exclusively of the cart-loads of books which were sent to Caen) was shewn to his countrymen; but the guillotine was now the order of the day--when Moysant "resolved to visit England, and submit to the English nobility the plan of his work, as that nation always attached importance to the preservation of the monuments, or literary materials, of the middle ages."--He knew (continues the nephew) how proud the English were of their descent from the Norman nobles, and it was only to put them in possession of the means of preserving the unquestionable proofs of their origin. Moysant accordingly came over with his wife, and they were both quickly declared emigrants; their return was interdicted; and our bibliomaniac learnt, with heart-rending regret, that they had resolved upon the sale of the national property in France. He was therefore to live by his wits; having spiritedly declined all offer of assistance from the English government. In this dilemma he published a work entitled "_Bibliothèque des Ecrivains Français, ou choix des meilleurs morceaux en prose et en vers, extraits de leurs ouvrages_,"--a collection, which was formed with judgment, and which was attended with complete success. The first edition was in four octavo volumes, in 1800; the second, in six volumes 1803; a third edition, I think, followed, with a pocket dictionary of the English and French languages. It was during his stay amongst us that he was deservedly admitted a member of the Society of Antiquaries; but he returned to France in 1802, before the appearance of the second edition of his _Bibliothèque_; when, hawk-like, soaring or sailing in suspense between the book-atmospheres of Paris and Caen, he settled within the latter place--and again perched himself (at the united call of his townsmen) upon the chair destined for the PUBLIC LIBRARIAN! It was to give order, method, and freedom of access, to the enormous mass of books, which the dissolution of the monastic libraries had caused to be accumulated at Caen, that Moysant and his colleagues now devoted themselves with an assiduity as heroic as it was unintermitting. But the health of our generalissimo, which had been impaired during his residence in England, began to give way beneath such a pressure of fatigue and anxiety. Yet it pleased Providence to prolong his life till towards the close of the year 1813: when he had the satisfaction of viewing his folios, quartos, octavos, and duodecimos, arranged in regular succession, and fair array; when his work was honestly done; and when future visitors had only to stretch forth their hands and gather the fruit which he had placed within their reach. His death (we are told)[130] was gentle, and like unto sleep. Religion had consoled him in his latter moments; and after having reposed upon its efficacy, he waited with perfect composure for the breathing of his last sigh! Let the name of MOYSANT be mentioned with the bibliomaniacal honours which, are doubtless its due!... From Librarians, revert we to books: to the books in the PUBLIC LIBRARY of Caen. The oldest printed volume contained in it, and which had been bound with a MS, on the supposition of its being a manuscript also, is Numeister's impression of _Aretinus de Bella adversus Gothós_, 1470, folio; the first book from the press of the printer. I undeceived M. Hébert, who had supposed it to be a MS. The lettering is covered with horn, and the book is bound in boards; "all proper." The oldest _Latin Bible_ they possess, is of the date of 1485; but there is preserved one volume of Sweynheym and Pannartz's impression of _De Lyra's Commentary upon the Bible_, of the date of 1471-2, which luckily contains the list of books printed by those printers in their memorable supplicatory letter to Pope Sixtus IV. The earliest Latin Classic appears to be the _Juvenal_ of 1474, with the _Commentary of Calderinus_, printed at Rome; unless a dateless impression of _Lucan_, in the earliest type of Gering, with the verses placed at a considerable distance from each other, claim chronological precedence. There is also a _Valerius Maximus_ of 1475, by Cæsaris and Stol, but without their names. It is a large copy, soiled at the beginning. Of the same date is Gering's impression of the _Legenda Sanctorum_; and among the Fifteeners I almost coveted a very elegant specimen of _Jehan du Pré's_ printing (with a device used by him never before seen by me,) of an edition of _La Vie des Peres_, 1494, folio, in its original binding. I collected, from the written catalogue, that they had only FORTY-FIVE works printed in the FIFTEENTH CENTURY; and of these, none were of first-rate quality. Among the MSS., I was much struck with the beautiful penmanship of a work, in three folio volumes, of the middle of the sixteenth century, entitled; _Divertissemens touchant le faict de la guerre, extraits des livres de Polybe, Frontin, Vegece, Cornazzan, Machiavel, et autres bons autheurs."_ It has no illuminations, but the scription is beautiful. A _Breviary of the Church Service of Lisieux_, of the fifteenth century, has some pretty but common illuminations. It is not however free from injury. Of more intrinsic worth is a MS. entitled _Du Costentin_, (a district not far from Caen,) with the following prefix in the hand-writing of Moysant. "Ces mémoires sont de M. Toustaint de Billy, curé du Mesnil au-parc, qui avoit travaillé toute sa vie à l'histoire du Cotentin. Ils sont rares et m'ont été accordes par M. Jourdan, Notaire, auquel ils appartenoient. Le p. (Père) le Long et Mons. Teriet de fontette ne les out pas connu. Moysantz." It is a small folio, in a neat hand-writing. Another MS., or rather a compound of ms. and printed leaves, of yet considerably more importance, in 3 folio volumes, is entitled _Le Moreri des Normans, par Joseph Andrié Guiat de Rouen:_ on the reverse of the title, we read, "_Supplément au Dictionnaire de Moreri pour ce qui concerne la province de Normandie, et ses illustres_." A short preface follows; then an ode "aux Grands Hommes de Normandie." It is executed in the manner of a dictionary, running in alphabetical order. The first volume extends to the letter I, and is illustrated with scraps from newspapers, and a few portraits. It is written pretty fully in double columns. The portrait and biography of _Bouzard_ form an admirable specimen of biographical literary memoirs. The second volume goes to Z. The third volume is entitled "_Les trois Siècles palinodiques, ou Histoire Générale des Palinods de Rouen, Dieppe, &c._--by the same hand, with an equal quantity of matter. It is right that such labours should be noticed, for the sake of all future BLISS-like editors of provincial literature. There is another similar work, in 2 folio ms. volumes, relating to _Coutance_. Before we again touch upon printed books, but of a later period, it may be right to inform you that the treasures of this Library suffered materially from the commotions of the Calvinists. Those hot-headed interpreters of scripture destroyed every thing in the shape of ornament or elegance attached to book-covers; and piles of volumes, however sacred, or unexceptionable on the score of good morals, were consigned to the fury of the flames. Of the remaining volumes which I saw, take the following very rapid sketch. Of _Hours_, or _Church Services_, there is a prodigiously fine copy of an edition printed by _Vostre_, in 4to., upon paper, without date. It is in the original ornamented cover, or binding, with a forest of rough edges to the leaves--and doubtless the finest copy of the kind I ever saw. Compared with this, how inferior, in every respect is a cropt copy of _Kerver's_ impression of a similar work, printed upon vellum! This latter is indeed a very indifferent book; but the rough usage it has met with is the sole cause of such inferiority. I was well pleased with a fair, sound copy of the _Speculum Stultorum_, in 4to., bl. letter, in hexameter and pentameter verses, without date. Nor did I examine without interest a rare little volume entitled "_Les Origines de quelques Coutumes anciennes, et de plusieurs façons de parler triviales. Avec un vieux Manuscrit en vers, touchant l'Origine des Chevaliers Bannerets_; printed at Caen in 1672, 12mo.: a curious little work. They have a fine (royal) copy of _Walton's Polyglot_, with an excellent impression of the head; and a large paper copy of _Stephen's Greek Glossary_; in old vellum binding, with a great number of ms. notes by Bochart. Also a fine large paper _Photius_ of 1654, folio. But among their LARGE PAPERS, few volumes tower with greater magnificence than do the three folios of _La Sainte Bible_, printed by the Elzevirs at Amsterdam, in 1669. They are absolutely fine creatures; of the stateliest dimensions and most attractive forms. They also pretend that their large paper copy of the first edition of _Huet's Praeparatio Evangelica_, in folio, is unique. Probably it is, as the author presented it to the Library himself. The _Basil Eustathius_ of 1559, in 3 volumes folio, is as glorious a copy as is Mr. Grenville's of the Roman edition of 1542.[131] It is in its pristine membranaceous attire--the vellum lapping over the fore-edges, in the manner of Mr. Heber's copy of the first Aldine Aristotle,--most comfortable to behold! There is a fine large paper copy of _Montaigne's Essays_, 1635, folio, containing two titles and a portrait of the author. It is bound in red morocco, and considered by M. Hébert a most rare and desirable book. Indeed I was told that one Collector in particular was exceedingly anxious to obtain it. I saw a fine copy of the folio edition of _Ronsard_, printed in 1584, which is considered rare. There is also a copy of the well known _Liber Nanceidos_, from Bochart's library, with a few ms. notes by Bochart himself. Here I saw, for the first time, a French metrical version of the works of _Virgil, by Robert and Anthony Chevaliers d'Agneaux freres, de Vire, en Normandie_; published at Paris in 1582, in elegant italic type; considered rare. The same translators published a version of Horace; but it is not here. You may remember that I made mention of a certain work (in one of my late letters) called _Les Vaudevires d'Olivier Basselin_. They preserve here a very choice copy of it, in 4to., large paper; and of which size only ten copies are said to be in existence. The entire title is "_Les Vaudevires Poesies du XVme. siècle, par Olivier Basselin, avec un Discours sur sa Vie et des Notes pour l'explication de quelques anciens Mots: Vire, 1811_." 8vo. There are copies upon pink paper, of which this is one--and which was in fact presented to the Library by the Editors. Prefixed to it, is an indifferent drawing, in india ink, representing the old castle of Vire, now nearly demolished, with Basselin seated at a table along with three of his boosing companions, chaunting his verses "à pleine gorge." This Basselin appears in short to have been the French DRUNKEN BARNABY of his day. "What! (say you:) "not _one_ single specimen from the library of your favourite DIANE DE POICTIERS? Can this be possible?"--No more of interrogatory, I beseech you: but listen attentively and gratefully to the intelligence which you are about to receive--and fancy not, if you have any respect for my taste, that I have forgotten my favourite Diane de Poictiers. On looking sharply about you, within this library, there will be found a magnificent copy of the _Commentaries of Chrysostom upon the Epistles of St. Paul_, printed by _Stephanus et Fratres a Sabio, at Verona_, in 1529, in three folio volumes. It is by much and by far the finest Greek work which I ever saw from the _Sabii_ Press.[132] No wonder Colbert jumped with avidity to obtain such a copy of it: for, bating that it is "un peu rogné," the condition and colour are quite enchanting. And then for the binding!--which either Colbert, or his librarian Baluze, had the good sense and good taste to leave _untouched_. The first and second volumes are in reddish calf, with the royal arms in the centre, and the half moon (in tarnished silver) beneath: the arabesque ornaments, or surrounding border is in gilt. The edges are gilt, stamped; flush with the fore edges of the binding. In the centre of the sides of the binding, is a large H, with a fleur de lis at top: the top and bottom borders presenting the usual D and H, united, of which you may take a peep in the _Bibliographical Decameron._ The third volume is in dark blue leather, with the same side ornaments; and the title of the work, as with the preceding volumes, is lettered in Greek capitals. The H and crown, and monogram, as before; but the edges of the leaves are, in this volume, stamped at bottom and top with an H, surmounted by a crown. The sides of the binding are also fuller and richer than in the preceding volumes. This magnificent copy was given to the Library by P. Le Jeune. It is quite a treasure in its way. Another specimen, if you please, from the library of our favourite Diana. It is rather of a singular character: consisting of a French version of that once extremely popular work (originally published in the Latin language) called the _Cosmography of Sebastian Munster._ The edition is of the date of 1556, in folio. This copy must have been as splendid as it is yet curious. It contains two portraits of Henry the Second ("HENRICVS II. GALLIARVM REX INVICTISS. PP.") and four of Holofernes ("OLOFARNE.") on each side of the binding. In the centre of the sides we recognise the lunar ornaments of Diane de Poictiers; but on the back, are five portraits of her, in gilt, each within the bands--and, like all the other ornaments, much rubbed. Two of these five heads are facing a different head of Henry. There are also on the sides two pretty medallions of a winged figure blowing a trumpet, and standing upon a chariot drawn by four horses: there are also small fleur de lis scattered between the ornaments of the sides of the binding. The date of the medallion seems to be 1553. The copy is cruelly cropt, and the volume is sufficiently badly printed; which makes it the more surprising that such pains should have been taken with its bibliopegistic embellishments. Upon the whole, this copy, for the sake of its ornaments, is vehemently desirable. And now, my dear friend, you must make your bow with me to M. Hébert, and bid farewell to the PUBLIC LIBRARY at Caen. Indeed I am fully disposed to bid farewell to every thing else in the same town: not however without being conscious that very much, both of what I have, and of what I have not, seen, merits a detail well calculated to please the intellectual appetites of travellers. What I have seen, has been indeed but summarily, and even superficially, described; but I have done my best; and was fearful of exciting ennui by a more parish-register-like description. For the service performed in places of public worship, I can add nothing to my Rouen details--except that there is here an agreeable PROTESTANT CHURCH, of which M. MARTIN ROLLIN, is the Pastor. He has just published a "_Mémoire Historique sur l'Etat Eclésiastique des Protestans François depuis François Ler jusqu'à Louis XVIII_:" in a pamphlet of some fourscore pages. The task was equally delicate and difficult of execution; but having read it, I am free to confess that M. Rollin has done his work very neatly and very cleverly. I went in company with Mrs. and Miss I---- to hear the author preach; for he is a young man (about thirty) who draws his congregation as much from his talents as a preacher, as from his moral worth as an individual. It was on the occasion of several young ladies and gentlemen taking the sacrament for the first time. The church is strictly, I believe, according to the Geneva persuasion; but there was something so comfortable, and to me so cheering, in the avowed doctrine of Protestantism, that I accompanied my friends with alacrity to the spot. Many English were present; for M. Rollin is deservedly a favourite with our countrymen. The church, however, was scarcely half filled. The interior is the most awkwardly adapted imaginable to the purposes either of reading or of preaching: for it consists of two aisles at right angles with each other. The desk and pulpit are fixed in the receding angle of their junction; so that the voice flies forth to the right and left immediately as it escapes the preacher. After a very long, and a very tediously sung psalm, M. Rollin commenced his discourse. He is an extemporaneous preacher. His voice is sweet and clear, rather than sonorous and impressive; and he is perhaps, occasionally, too metaphorical in his composition. For the first time I heard the words "_Oh Dieu!_" pronounced with great effect: but the sermon was made up of better things than mere exclamations. M. Rollin was frequently ingenious; logical, and convincing; and his address to the young communicants, towards the close of his discourse, was impressive and efficient. The young people were deeply touched by his powerful appeal, and I believe each countenance was suffused with tears. He guarded them against the dangers and temptations of that world upon which they were about to enter, by setting before them the consolations of the religion which they had professed, in a manner which indicated that he had really their interests and happiness at heart. A word only about COURTS OF JUSTICE. "A smack of the whip" will tingle in my ears through life;[133] and I shall always attend "_Nisi Prius_" exhibitions with more than ordinary curiosity. I strolled one morning to the _Place de Justice_--which is well situated, in an airy and respectable neighbourhood. I saw two or three barristers, en pleine costume, pretty nearly in the English fashion; walking quickly to and fro with their clients, in the open air before the hall; and could not help contrasting the quick eye and unconcerned expression of countenance of the former, with the simple look and yet earnest action of the latter. I entered the Hall, and, to my astonishment, heard only a low muttering sound. Scarcely fifteen people were present, I approached the bench; and what, think you, were the intellectual objects upon which my eye alighted? Three Judges ... all fast asleep! Five barristers, two of whom were nodding: one was literally addressing _the bench_ ... and the remaining two were talking to their clients in the most unconcerned manner imaginable. The entire effect, on my mind, was ridiculous in the extreme. Far be it from me, however, to designate the foregoing as a generally true picture of the administration of Justice at Caen. I am induced to hope and believe that a place, so long celebrated for the study of the law, yet continues occasionally to exhibit proofs of that logic and eloquence for which it has been renowned of old. I am willing to conclude that all the judges are not alike somniferous; and that if the acuteness of our GIFFORDS, and the rhetoric of our DENMANS, sometimes instruct and enliven the audience, there will be found Judges to argue like GIBBS and to decide like SCOTT.[134] Farewell. [121] _Mémoires de l'Academie des Belles Lettres de Caen. Chez Jacques Manoury, 1757, 4 vols. crown 8vo. Rapport générale sur les travaux de l'Academie des Sciences, Arts, et Belles Lettres de la ville de Caen, jusqu'au premier Janvier, 1811. Par P.F.T. Delariviere, Secrétaire. A Caen, chez Chalopin_. An. 1811-15. 2 vols. on different paper, with different types, and provokingly of a larger form than its precursor. [122] [On consulting the Addenda of the preceding edition, it will be seen that this work appeared in the year 1820, under the title of _Essais Historiques sur la Ville de Caen et son Arondissement_, in 2 small octavo volumes. With the exception of two or three indifferent plates of relics of sculpture, and of titles with armorial bearings, this work is entirely divested of ornament. There are some useful historical details in it, taken from the examination of records and the public archives; but a HISTORY of CAEN is yet a desideratum.] [123] [By the favour of our common friend Mr. Douce, I have obtained permission to enrich these pages with the PORTRAIT of this distinguished Archaeologist, from an original Drawing in the possession of the same friend. See the OPPOSITE PLATE.] [124] He has recently (1816) published an octavo volume entitled "_Histoire des Polypiers, Coralligènes Flexibles, vulgairement nommés Zoophytes. Par J.V.F. Lamouroux_. From one of his Epistles, I subjoin a fac-simile of his autograph. [Illustration: Lamouroux] [125] The medallic project here alluded to is one which does both the projector, and the arts of France, infinite honour; and I sincerely wish that some second SIMON may rise up among ourselves to emulate, and if possible to surpass, the performances of GATTEAUX and AUDRIEU. The former is the artist to whom we are indebted for the medal of Malherbe, and the latter for the series of the Bonaparte medals. [Has my friend Mr. Hawkins, of the Museum, abandoned all thoughts of his magnificent project connected with such a NATIONAL WORK?] [126] See post--under the running title Bayeux. [127] See page 172 ante. [128] It is described in the 2d vol. of the ÆDES ALTHORPIANÆ; forming the Supplement to the BIBLIOTHECA SPENCERIANA: see page 94. [129] Goube, in his _Histoire du Duché de Normandie_, 1815, 8vo. has devoted upwards of thirty pages to an enumeration of these worthies; vol. iii. p. 295. But in _Huet's Origines de la Ville de Caen;_ p. 491-652, there will be found much more copious and satisfactory details. [130] I am furnished with the above particulars from a _Notice Historique_ of Moysant. [131] [A copy of this Roman Edition of 1542, of equal purity and amplitude, is in the library of the Rev. Mr Hawtrey of Eton College: obtained of Messrs. Payne and Foss.] [132] When I was at Paris in the year 1819, I strove hard to obtain from Messrs. Debure the copy of this work, UPON VELLUM, which they had purchased at the sale of the Macarthy Library. But it was destined for the Royal Library, and is described in the _Cat. des Livres Imp. sur Vélin_, vol. i. p. 263. [133] [Twenty-eight years have passed away since I kept my terms at Lincoln's Inn with a view of being called to THE BAR; and at this moment I have a perfect recollection of the countenances and manner of Messrs. Bearcroft, Erskine, and Mingay,--the pitted champions of the King's Bench--whom I was in the repeated habit of attending within that bustling and ever agitated arena. Their wit, their repartee--the broad humour of Mingay, and the lightning-like quickness of Erskine, with the more caustic and authoritative dicta of Bearcroft--delighted and instructed me by turns. In the year 1797 I published, in one large chart, an _Analysis of the first volume of Blackstone's Commentaries_--called THE RIGHTS OF PERSONS. It was dedicated to Mr. (afterwards Lord) Erskine; and published, as will be easily conceived, with more zeal than discretion. I got out of the scrape by selling the copper plate for 50 shillings, after having given 40 guineas for the engraving of the Analysis. Some fifty copies of the work were sold, and 250 were struck off. Where the surplus have lain, and rotted, I cannot pretend to conjecture: but I know it to be a VERY RARE production!] [134] [So in the preceding Edition. He who writes notes on his own performances after a lapse of ten years, will generally have something to add, and something to correct. Of the above names, the FIRST was afterwards attached to the _Master of the Rolls_, and to a _Peerage_: with the intervening honour of having been _Chief Justice of the Common Pleas_. My admiration of this rapid elevation in an honourable profession will not be called singular; for, after an acquaintance of twenty years with Lord Gifford, I can honestly say, that, while his reputation as a Lawyer, and his advancement in his profession, were only what his friends predicted, his character as a MAN continued the same:--kind hearted, unaffected, gentle, and generous. He died, 'ere he had attained his 48th year, in 1826.] LETTER XIV. BAYEUX. CATHEDRAL. ORDINATION OF PRIESTS AND DEACONS. CRYPT OF THE CATHEDRAL. _Bayeux, May 16_, 1818. Two of the most gratifying days of my Tour have been spent at this place. The Cathedral (one of the most ancient religious places of worship in Normandy)[135] has been paced with a reverential step, and surveyed with a careful eye. That which scarcely warmed the blood of Ducarel has made my heart beat with an increased action; and although this town be even dreary, as well as thinly peopled, there is that about it which, from associations of ideas, can never fail to afford a lively interest to a British antiquary. The Diligence brought me here from Caen in about two hours and a half. The country, during the whole route, is open, well cultivated, occasionally gently undulating, but generally denuded of trees. Many pretty little churches, with delicate spires, peeped out to the right and left during the journey; but the first view of the CATHEDRAL of BAYEUX put all the others out of my recollection. I was conveyed to the _Hôtel de Luxembourg_, the best inn in the town, and for a wonder rather pleasantly situated. Mine hostess is a smart, lively, and shrewd woman; perfectly mistress of the art and craft of innkeeping, and seems to have never known sorrow or disappointment. Knowing that Mr. Stothard, Jun. had, the preceding year, been occupied in making a fac-simile of the "famous tapestry" for our Society of Antiquaries, I enquired if mine hostess had been acquainted with that gentleman: "Monsieur," "je le connois bien; c'est un brave homme: il demeura tout près: aussi travailla-t-il comme quatre diables!" I will not disguise that this eulogy of our amiable countryman[136] pleased me "right well"--though I was pretty sure that such language was the current (and to me somewhat _coarse_) coin of compliment upon all occasions: and instead of "vin ordinaire" I ordered, rather in a gay and triumphant manner, "une bouteille du vin de Beaune"--"Ah! ça," (replied the lively landlady,) "vous le trouverez excellent, Monsieur, il n'y a pas du vin comme le vin de Beaune." Bespeaking my dinner, I strolled towards the cathedral. There is, in fact, no proper approach to this interesting edifice. The western end is suffocated with houses. Here stands the post-office; and with the most unsuspecting frankness, on the part of the owner, I had permission to examine, with my own hands, within doors, every letter--under the expectation that there were some for myself. Nor was I disappointed. But you must come with me to the cathedral: and of course we must enter together at the western front. There are five porticos: the central one being rather large, and the two, on either side, comparatively small. Formerly, these were covered with sculptured figures and ornaments; but the Calvinists in the sixteenth, and the Revolutionists in the eighteenth century, have contrived to render their present aspect mutilated and repulsive in the extreme. On entering, I was struck with the two large transverse Norman arches which bestride the area, or square, for the bases of the two towers. It is the boldest and finest piece of masonry in the whole building. The interior disappointed me. It is plain, solid, and divested of ornament. A very large wooden crucifix is placed over the screen of the choir, which has an effect--of its kind: but the monuments, and mural ornaments, scarcely deserve mention. The richly ornamented arches, on each side of the nave, springing from massive single pillars, have rather an imposing effect: above them are Gothic ornaments of a later period, but too thickly and injudiciously applied. Let me now suppose that the dinner is over, and the "vin de Beaune" approved of--and that on a second visit, immediately afterwards, there is both time and inclination for a leisurely survey. On looking up, upon entering, within the side aisle to the left, you observe, with infinite regret, a dark and filthy green tint indicative of premature decay--arising from the lead (of that part of the roof,) having been stript for the purpose of making bullets during the Revolution. The extreme length of the interior is about 320 English feet, by 76 high, and the same number of feet in width. The transepts are about 125 feet long, by 36 wide. The western towers, to the very top of the spires, are about 250 English feet in height. One of the most curious objects in the Cathedral, is the CRYPT; of which, singularly enough, all knowledge had been long lost till the year 1412. The circumstance of its discovery is told in the following inscription, cut in the Gothic letter, upon a brass plate, and placed just above the southern entrance: _En lan mil quatre cens et douze Tiers iour d'Auril que pluye arrouse Les biens de la terre, la journee Que la Pasques fut celebree Noble homme et Reverend Pere Jehan de Boissey, de'la Mere Eglise de Bayeux Pasteur Rendi l'ame a son Createur Et lors enfoissant la place Devant la grand Autel de grace Trova l'on la basse Chapelle Dont il n'avoit ete nouvelle Ou il est mis en sepulture Dieu ueuille avoir son ame en cure. Amen_. It was my good fortune to visit this crypt at a very particular juncture. The day after my arrival at Bayeux, there was a grand _Ordination_. Before I had quitted my bed, I heard the mellow and measured notes of human voices; and starting up, I saw an almost interminable procession of priests, deacons, &c., walking singly behind each other, in two lines, leaving a considerable space between them. They walked bareheaded, chanting, with a book in their hands; and bent their course towards the cathedral. I dressed quickly; and, dispatching my breakfast with equal promptitude, pursued the same route. On entering the western doors, thrown wide open, I shall never forget the effect produced by the crimson and blue draperies of the Norman women:--a great number of whom were clustered, in groups, upon the top of the screen, about the huge wooden crucifix;--witnessing the office of ordination going on below, in the choir. They seemed to be suspended in the air; and considering the piece of sculpture around which they appeared to gather themselves--with the elevation of the screen itself--it was a combination of objects upon which the pencil might have been exercised with the happiest possible result. An ordination in a foreign country, and especially one upon such an apparently extensive scale, was, to a professional man, not to be slighted; and accordingly I determined upon making the most of the spectacle before me. Looking accidentally down my favourite crypt, I observed that some religious ceremony was going on there. The northern grate, or entrance, being open, I descended a flight of steps, and quickly became an inmate of this subterraneous abode. The first object that struck me was, the warm glow of day light which darted upon the broad pink cross of the surplice of an officiating priest: a candle was burning upon the altar, on each side of him: another priest, in a black vesture, officiated as an assistant; and each, in turn, knelt, and bowed, and prayed ... to the admiration of some few half dozen casual yet attentive visitors--while the full sonorous chant, from the voices of upwards of one hundred and fifty priests and deacons, from the choir above, gave a peculiar sort of solemnity to the mysterious gloom below. I now ascended; and by the help of a chair, took a peep at the ceremony through the intercolumniations of the choir: my diffidence, or rather apprehension of refusal, having withheld me from striving to gain admittance within the body. But my situation was a singularly good one: opposite the altar. I looked, and beheld this vast clerical congregation at times kneeling, or standing, or sitting: partially, or wholly: while the swell of their voices, accompanied by the full intonations of the organ, and the yet more penetrating notes of the _serpent_, seemed to breathe more than earthly solemnity around. The ceremony had now continued full two hours; when, in the midst of the most impressive part of it, and while the young candidates for ordination were prostrate before the high altar (the diapason stop of the organ, as at Dieppe,[137] sending forth the softest notes) the venerable Bishop placed the glittering mitre (apparently covered with gold gauze) upon his head, and with a large gilt crosier in his right hand, descended, with a measured and majestic step, from the floor of the altar, and proceeded to the execution of the more mysterious part of his office. The candidates, with closed eyes, and outstretched hands, were touched with the holy oil--and thus became consecrated. On rising, each received a small piece of bread between the thumb and forefinger, and the middle and third fingers; their hands being pressed together--and, still with closed eyes, they retired behind the high altar, where an officiating priest made use of the bread to rub off the holy oil. The Bishop is an elderly man, about three score and ten; he has the usual sallow tint of his countrymen, but his eye, somewhat sunk or retired, beneath black and overhanging eyebrows, is sharp and expressive. His whole mien has the indication of a well-bred and well-educated gentleman. When he descended with his full robes, crosier, and mitre, from the high altar, me-thought I saw some of the venerable forms of our WYKEHAMS and WAYNEFLETES of old--commanding the respect, and receiving the homage, of a grateful congregation! At the very moment my mind was deeply occupied by the effects produced from this magnificent spectacle, I strolled into _Our Lady's Chapel_, behind the choir, and beheld a sight which converted seriousness into surprise--bordering upon mirth. Above the altar of this remotely situated chapel, stands the IMAGE OF THE VIRGIN with the infant Jesus in her arms. This is the usual chief ornament of Our Lady's Chapel. But what drapery for the mother of the sacred child!--stiff, starch, rectangularly-folded, white muslin, stuck about with diverse artificial flowers--like unto a shew figure in Brook Green Fair! This ridiculous and most disgusting costume began more particularly at Caudebec. Why is it persevered in? Why is it endured? The French have a quick sensibility, and a lively apprehension of what is beautiful and brilliant in the arts of sculpture and painting ... but the terms "joli," "gentil," and "propre," are made use of, like charity, to "cover a multitude of sins" ... or aberrations from true taste. I scarcely stopped a minute in this chapel, but proceeded to a side one, to the right, which yet affords proof of its pristine splendour. It is covered with gold and colours. Two or three supplicants were kneeling before the crucifix, and appeared to be so absorbed in their devotions as to be insensible of every surrounding object. To them, the particular saint (I have forgotten the name) to whom the little chapel was dedicated, seemed to be dearer and more interesting than the general voice of "praise and thanksgiving" with which the choir of the cathedral resounded. Before we quit the place you must know that fourscore candidates were ordained: that there are sixty clergy attached to the cathedral;[138] and that upwards of four hundred thousand souls are under the spiritual cognizance of the BISHOP OF BAYEUX. The treasures of the Cathedral were once excessive,[139] and the episcopal stipend proportionably large: but, of late years, things are sadly changed. The Calvinists, in the sixteenth century, began the work of havoc and destruction; and the Revolutionists in the eighteenth, as usual, put the finish to these devastations. At present, from a very respectable source of information, I learn that the revenues of the Bishop scarcely exceed 700_l_. per annum of our own money. I cannot take leave of the cathedral without commending, in strong terms of admiration, the lofty flying buttresses of the exterior of the nave. The perpendicular portions are crowned with a sculptured whole length figure, from which the semi-arch takes its spring; and are in much more elegant taste than any other part of the building. Hard by the cathedral stood formerly a magnificent EPISCOPAL PALACE. Upon this palace the old writers dearly loved to expatiate. There is now however nothing but a good large comfortable family mansion; sufficient for the purposes of such hospitality and entertainment as the episcopal revenues will afford. I have not only seen, but visited, this episcopal residence. In other words, my friend Pierre-Aimé Lair having promised to take his last adieu of me at Bayeux, as he had business with the Bishop, I met him agreeably to appointment at the palace; but his host, with a strong corps of visitors, having just sate down to dinner--it was only one o'clock--I bade him adieu, with the hope of seeing the Bishop on the morrow--to whom he had indeed mentioned my name. Our farewell was undoubtedly warm and sincere. He had volunteered a thousand acts of kindness towards me without any possible motive of self interest; and as he lifted up his right hand, exclaiming "adieu, pour toujours!" I will not dissemble that I was sensibly affected by the touching manner in which it was uttered ... and PIERRE AIMÉ LAIR shall always claim from me the warmest wishes for his prosperity and happiness.[140] I hurried back through the court-yard--at the risk of losing a limb from the ferocious spring of a tremendous (chained) mastiff--and without returning the salute of the porter, shut the gate violently, and departed. For five minutes, pacing the south side of the cathedral, I was lost in a variety of painful sensations. How was I to see the LIBRARY?--where could I obtain a glimpse of the TAPESTRY?--and now, that Pierre Aimé Lair was to be no more seen, (for he told me he should quit the place on that same evening) who was to stand my friend, and smooth my access to the more curious and coveted objects of antiquity? Thus absorbed in a variety of contending reflections, a tall figure, clad in a loose long great coat, in a very gracious manner approached and addressed me. "Your name, Sir, is D----?" "At your service, Sir, that is my name." "You were yesterday evening at Monsieur Pluquet's, purchasing books?" "I was, Sir." "It seems you are very fond of old books, and especially of those in the French and Latin languages?" "I am fond of old books generally; but I now seek more particularly those in your language--and have been delighted with an illuminated, and apparently coeval, MS. of the poetry of your famous OLIVIER BASSELIN, which..." "You saw it, Sir, at Monsieur Pluquet's. It belonged to a common friend of us both. He thinks it worth..." "He asks _ten louis d'or_ for it, and he shall have them with all my heart." "Sir, I know he will never part with it even for that large sum." I smiled, as he pronounced the word "large." "Do me the honour, Sir, of visiting my obscure dwelling, in the country--a short league from hence. My abode is humble: in the midst of an orchard, which my father planted: but I possess a few books, some of them curious, and should like to _read_ double the number I _possess_." I thanked the stranger for his polite attention and gracious offer, which I accepted readily.... "This evening, Sir, if you please." "With all my heart, this very evening. But tell me, Sir, how can I obtain a sight of the CHAPTER LIBRARY, and of the famous TAPESTRY?" "Speak softly, (resumed the unknown) for I am watched in this place. You shall see both--but must not say that Monsieur ---- was your adviser or friend. For the present, farewell. I shall expect you in the evening." We took leave; and I returned hastily to the inn, to tell my adventures to my companion. There is something so charmingly mysterious in this little anecdote, that I would not for the world add a syllable of explanation. Leaving you, therefore, in full possession of it, to turn and twist it as you please, consider me as usual, Yours. [135] [Mons. Licquet supposes the crypt and the arcades of the nave to be of the latter end of the eleventh century,--built by Odo, Bishop of Bayeux, and Brother of William the Conqueror; and that the other portions were of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries. I have very great doubts indeed of any portion being of a date even so early as 1170.] [136] [Another demonstration of the fickleness and changeableness of all mundane affairs. Mr. Stothard, after a successful execution of his great task, has ceased to be among us. His widow published his life, with an account of his labours, in a quarto volume in 1823. Mr. Stothard's _Monumental Effigies_, now on the eve of completion, is a work which will carry his name down to the latest posterity, as one of the most interesting, tasteful, and accurate of antiquarian productions. See a subsequent note.] [137] See page 12, ante. [138] ["That was true, when M. Dibdin wrote his account; now, the number must be reduced one half." LICQUET, vol. ii. p. 121.] [139] Cette église ... étoit sans contredit une des plus riches de France en vases d'or, d'argent, et de pierreries; en reliques et en ornemens. Le procès-verbal qui avoit été dressé de toutes ses richesses, en 1476, contient un détail qui va presque à l'infini." Bezières, _Hist. Sommaire_, p. 51. [140] [But ONE letter has passed between us since this separation. That letter, however, only served to cement the friendliness of our feelings towards each other. M. Pierre Aimé Lair had heard of the manner in which his name had been introduced into these pages, and wished a copy of the work to be deposited in the public library at Caen. Whether it be so deposited, I have never learnt. In 1827, this amiable man visited England; and I saw him only during the time of an ordinary morning visit. His stay was necessarily short, and his residence was remote. I returned his visit--but he was away. There are few things in life more gratifying than the conviction of living in the grateful remembrance of the wise and the good; and THAT gratification it is doubtless my happiness to enjoy--as far as relates to Mons. PIERRE AIMÉ LAIR!] LETTER XV. VISIT NEAR ST. LOUP. M. PLUQUET, APOTHECARY AND BOOK-VENDER. VISIT TO THE BISHOP. THE CHAPTER LIBRARY. DESCRIPTION OF THE BAYEUX TAPESTRY. TRADE AND MANUFACTURE. Well, my good friend! the stranger has been visited: his library inspected: his services accepted: and his character partly unfolded. To this I must add, in the joy of my heart, (as indeed I mentioned slightly in my last) that both the Chapter LIBRARY and the famous TAPESTRY have been explored and examined in a manner, I trust, worthy of British curiosity. I hardly know what sort of order to adopt in this my second and last epistle from Bayeux; which will be semi-bibliomaniacal and semi-archaeological: and sit down, almost at random, to impart such intelligence as my journal and my memory supply. The last was almost a purely _ecclesiastical_ dispatch: as I generally first take off my cap to the towers and turrets of a cathedral. Now then for THE STRANGER! ... for it would be cruel to prolong the agony of expectation. Mr. Lewis having occupied himself, almost exclusively, with his pencil during the whole morning, I persuaded him to accompany me to _St. Loup_. After dinner we set out upon our expedition. It had rained in the interim, and every tree was charged with moisture as we passed them ... their blossoms exhaling sweets of the most pungent fragrance. The road ran in a straight line from the west front of the cathedral, which, on turning round, as we saw it irradiated by partial glimpses of sunshine, between masses of dark clouds, assumed a very imposing and venerable aspect. I should tell you, however, that the obliging Monsieur ---- came himself to the Hôtel de Luxembourg, to conduct us to his humble abode: for "humble" it is in every sense of the word. About two-thirds of the way thither, we passed the little church of _St. Loup_: a perfect Gothic toy of the XIIth century--with the prettiest, best-proportioned tower that can be imagined.[141] It has a few slight clustered columns at the four angles, but its height and breadth are truly pigmy. The stone is of a whitish grey. We did not enter; and with difficulty could trace our way to examine the exterior through the high grass of the church yard, yet _laid_ with the heavy rain. What a gem would the pencil of BLORE make of this tiny, ancient, interesting edifice! At length we struck off, down a lane slippery with moisture--when, opening a large swinging gate--"here (exclaimed our guide)--lived and died my father, and here his son hopes to live and die also. Gentlemen, yonder is my hermitage." It was a retirement of the most secluded kind: absolutely surrounded by trees, shrubs, hay-stacks, and corn-stacks--for Monsieur ---- hath a fancy for farming as well as for reading. The stair-case, though constructed of good hard Norman stone, was much worn in the middle from the frequent tread of half a century. It was also fatiguingly steep, but luckily it was short. We followed our guide to the left, where, passing through one boudoir-like apartment, strewn with books and papers, and hung with a parcel of mean ornaments called _pictures_, we entered a second--of which portions of the wainscoat were taken away, to shew the books which were deposited behind. Row after row, and pile upon pile, struck my wondering eye. Anon, a closet was opened--and there again they were stowed, "thick and threefold." A few small busts, and fractured vases, were meant to grace a table in the centre of the room. Of the books, it is but justice to say that _rarity_ had been sacrificed to _utility_. There were some excellent, choice, critical works; a good deal of Latin; some Greek, and a sprinkle of Hebrew--for Monsieur ---- is both a general and a sound scholar. On pointing to _Houbigant's Hebrew Bible_, in four folio volumes, 1753, "do you think this copy dear at fourteen francs?" said he!--"How, Sir," (replied I, in an exstacy of astonishment)--you mean to say fourteen _louis_?" "Not at all, Sir. I purchased it at the price just mentioned, nor do I think it too dear at that sum"--resumed he, in the most unsuspecting manner. I then told him, as a sort of balsamic consolation, that a late friend (I alluded to poor Mr. Ormerod) rejoiced on giving £12. for a copy by no means superior. "Ah, le bon Dieu!...." was his only observation thereupon. When about to return to the boudoir, through which we had entered, I observed with mingled surprise and pleasure, the four prettily executed English prints, after the drawings of the present Lady Spencer, called "_New Shoes"--"Nice Supper_" &c. Monsieur ---- was pleased at my stopping to survey them. "Ce sont là, Monsieur (observed he), les dames qui me font toujours compagnie:"--nor can you conceive the very soft and gentlemanly manner, accompanied by a voice subdued even to sadness of tone, with which he made this, and almost every observation. I found, indeed, from the whole tenor of his discourse, that he had a mind in no ordinary a state of cultivation: and on observing that a great portion of his library was THEOLOGICAL, I asked him respecting the general subjects upon which he thought and wrote. He caught hold of my left arm, and stooping (for he is much taller than myself, ... which he easily may be, methinks I hear you add...) "Sir, said he, I am by profession a clergyman ... although now I am designated as an _ex-Curé_. I have lived through the Revolution... and may have partaken of some of its irregularities, rather, I should hope than of its atrocities. In the general hue-and-cry for reform, I thought that our church was capable of very great improvement, and I think so still. The part I took was influenced by conscientious motives, rather than by a blind and vehement love of reform;... but it has never been forgiven or forgotten. The established clergy of the place do not associate with me; but I care not a farthing for that--since I have here (pointing to his books) the very best society in the world. It was from the persuasion of the clergy having a constantly-fixed eye upon me, that I told you I was watched ... when walking near the precincts of the cathedral. I had been seeking you during the whole of the office of ordination." In reply to my question about his _archaeological_ researches, he said he was then occupied in writing a disquisition upon the _Bayeux Tapestry_, in which he should prove that the Abbé de la Rue was wrong in considering it as a performance of the XIIth century. "He is your great antiquarian oracle"--observed I. "He has an over-rated reputation"--replied he--"and besides, he is too hypothetical." Monsieur ---- promised to send me a copy of his dissertation, when printed; and then let our friend N---- be judge "in the matter of the Bayeux Tapestry." From the open windows of this hermitage, into which the branches absolutely thrust themselves, I essayed, but in vain, to survey the surrounding country; and concluded a visit of nearly two hours, in a manner the most gratifying imaginable to honest feelings. A melancholy, mysterious air, seemed yet, however, to mark this amiable stranger, which had not been quite cleared up by the account he had given of himself. "Be assured (said he, at parting) that I will see you again, and that every facility shall be afforded you in the examination of the Bayeux Tapestry. I have an uncle who is an efficient member of the corporation." On my way homeward from this ramble, I called again upon M. Pluquet, an apothecary by profession, but a book lover and a book vender[142] in his heart. The scene was rather singular. Below, was his _Pharmacopeia_; above were his bed-room and books; with a broken antique or two, in the court-yard, and in the passage leading to it. My first visit had been hasty, and only as a whetter to the second. Yet I contrived to see from a visitor, who was present, the desirable MS. of the vulgar poetry of OLIVIER BASSELIN, of which I made mention to M.----. The same stranger was again present. We all quietly left the drugs below for drugs of a different description above--books being called by the ancients, you know, the "MEDICINE OF THE SOUL." We mounted into the bed-room. M. Pluquet now opened his bibliomaniacal battery upon us. "Gentlemen you see, in this room, all the treasures in the world I possess: my wife--my child--my books--my antiquities. "Yes, gentlemen, these are my treasures. I am enthusiastic, even to madness, in the respective pursuits into which the latter branch out; but my means are slender--and my aversion to my _business_ is just about in proportion to my fondness for _books_. Examine, gentlemen, and try your fortunes." I scarcely needed such a rhetorical incitement: but alas! the treasures of M. Pluquet were not of a nature quite to make one's fortune. I contrived, with great difficulty, to pick out something of a _recherché_ kind; and expended a napoleon upon some scarce little grammatical tracts, chiefly Greek, printed by Stephen at Paris, and by Hervagius at Basil: among the latter was the _Bellum grammaticale_ of E. Hessus. M. Pluquet wondered at my rejecting the folios, and sticking so closely to the duodecimos; but had he shewn me a good _Verard Romance_ or a _Eustace Froissart_, he would have found me as alert in running away with the one as the other. I think he is really the most enthusiastic book-lover I have ever seen: certainly as a Bibliopolist. We concluded a very animated conversation on all sides: and upon the whole, this was one of the most variously and satisfactorily spent days of my "voyage bibliographique." On the morrow, the mysterious and amiable M. ---- was with me betimes. He said he had brought a _basket of books_, from his hermitage, which he had left at a friend's house, and he entreated me to come and examine them. In the mean while, I had had not only a peep at the Tapestry, but an introduction to the mayor, who is chief magistrate for life: a very Cæsar in miniature. He received me stiffly, and appeared at first rather a priggish sort of a gentleman; observing that "my countryman, Mr. STOTHARD,[143] had been already there for six months, upon the same errand, and what could I want further?" A short reply served to convince him "that it would be no abuse of an extended indulgence if he would allow another English artist to make a fac-simile of a different description, from a very small portion only."[144] I now called upon the Abbé Fétit, with a view to gain admission to the _Chapter Library_, but he was from home--dining with the Bishop. In consequence, I went to the palace, and wrote a note in pencil to the Bishop at the porter's lodge, mentioning the name of M. Lair, and the object of my visit. The porter observed that they had just sat down to dinner--but would I call at three? It seemed an age to that hour; but at length three o'clock came, and I was punctual to the minute. I was immediately admitted into the premises, and even the large mastiff seemed to know that I was not an unexpected visitor--for he neither growled, nor betrayed any symptoms of uneasiness. In my way to the audience chamber I saw the crosier and robes which the Bishop had worn the preceding day, at the ceremony of ordination, lying picturesquely upon the table. The audience chamber was rather elegant, adorned with Gobeleins tapestry, quite fresh, and tolerably expressive: and while my eyes were fastened upon two figures enacting the parts of an Arcadian shepherd and shepherdess, a servant came in and announced the approach of MONSEIGNEUR l'EVEQUE. I rose in a trice to meet him, between doubt and apprehension as to the result. The Bishop entered with a sort of body-guard; being surrounded by six or seven canons who had been dining with him, and who peeped at me over his shoulder in a very significant manner. The flush of good cheer was visible in their countenances--but for their Diocesan, I must say that he is even more interesting on a familiar view. He wore a close purple dress, buttoned down the middle from top to bottom. A cross hung upon his breast. His countenance had lost nothing of its expression by the absence of the mitre, and he was gracious even to loquacity. I am willing to hope that I was equally prudent and brief in the specification of the object I had in view. My request was as promptly as it was courteously granted. "You will excuse my attending you in person; (said the Bishop) but I will instantly send for the Abbé Fétit, who is our librarian; and who will have nothing to do but to wait upon you, and facilitate your researches." He then dispatched a messenger for the Abbé Fétit, who quickly arrived with two more trotting after him--and enlivened by the jingling music of the library keys, which were dangling from the Abbé's fingers, I quickened my steps towards the Chapter Library. We were no sooner fairly within the library, than I requested my chief conductor to give me a brief outline of its history. "Willingly" he replied. "This library, the remains of a magnificent collection, of from 30, to 40,000 volumes, was originally placed in the Chapter-house, hard by. Look through the window to your left, and you will observe the ruins of that building. We have here about 5000 volumes: but the original collection consisted of the united libraries of defunct, and even of living, clergymen--for, during the revolution, the clergy, residing both in town and country, conveyed their libraries to the Chapter-house, as a protection against private pillage. Well! in that same Chapter-house, the books, thus collected, were piled one upon another, in layers, flat upon the floor--reaching absolutely, to the cieling ... and for ten long years not a creature ventured to introduce a key into the library door. The windows also were rigidly kept shut. At length the Revolutionists wanted lead for musket balls, and they unroofed the chapter-house with their usual dexterity. Down came the rain upon the poor books, in consequence; and when M. Moysant received the orders of government to examine this library, and to take away as many books as he wanted for the public library at Caen... he was absolutely horror-struck by the obstacles which presented themselves. From the close confinement of every door and window, for ten years, the rank and fetid odour which issued, was intolerable. For a full fortnight every door and window was left open for ventilation, ere M. Moysant could begin his work of selection. He selected about 5000 volumes only; but the infuriated Revolutionists, on his departure, wantonly plundered and destroyed a prodigious number of the remainder ... "et enfin (concluded he) vous voyez, Monsieur, ce qu'ils nous out laissé." You will give me credit for having listened to every word of such a tale. The present library, which is on the first floor, is apparently about twenty-five feet square. The Abbé made me observe the XIIIth. volume of the _Gallia Christiana_,[145] in boards, remarking that "it was of excessive rarity;" but I doubt this. On shewing me the famous volume of _Sanctius_ or _Sanches de Matrimonio Sacramentario_, 1607, folio, the Abbé observed--"that the author wrote it, standing with his bare feet upon marble." I was well pleased with a pretty _illuminated ms. Missal_, in a large thick quarto volume, with borders and pictures in good condition; but did not fail to commend right heartily the proper bibliomaniacal spirit of M. Fétit in having kept concealed the second volume of _Gering's Latin Bible_--being the first impression of the sacred text in France--when M. Moysant came armed with full powers to carry off what treasures he pleased. No one knows what has become of the first volume, but this second is cruelly imperfect--it is otherwise a fair copy. Upon the whole, although it is almost a matter of _conscience_, as well as of character, with me, to examine every thing in the shape of a library, and especially of a public one, yet it must be admitted that the collection under consideration is hardly worthy of a second visit: and accordingly I took both a first and a final view of it. From the Chapter I went to the COLLEGE LIBRARY. In other words, there is a fine public school, or Lycée, or college, where a great number of lads and young men are educated "according to art." The building is extensive and well-situated: the play-ground is large and commodious; and there is a well-cultivated garden "tempting with forbidden fruit." Into this garden I strolled in search of the President of the College, who was not within doors. I found him in company with some of the masters, and with several young men either playing, or about to play, at skittles. On communicating the object of my visit, he granted me an immediate passport to the library--"mais, Monsieur, (added he) ce n'est rien: il y avoit autrefois _quelque chose_: maintenant, ce n'est qu'un amas de livres très communs." I thanked him, and accompanied the librarian to the Library; who absolutely apologized all the way for the little entertainment I should receive. There was indeed little enough. The room may be about eighteen feet square. Of the books, a great portion was in vellum bindings, in wretched condition. Here was _Jay's Polyglot_, and the matrimonial _Sanctius_ again! There was a very respectable sprinkling of _Spanish and French Dictionaries_; some few not wholly undesirable _Alduses_; and the rare Louvain edition of _Sir Thomas More's Works_, printed in 1566, folio.[146] I saw too, with horror-mingled regret, a frightfully imperfect copy of the _Service of Bayeux Cathedral_, printed in the Gothic letter, UPON VELLUM. But the great curiosity is a small brass or bronze crucifix, about nine inches high, standing upon the mantlepiece; very ancient, from the character of the crown, which savours of the latter period of Roman art--and which is the only crown, bereft of thorns, that I ever saw upon the head of our Saviour so represented. The eyes appear to be formed of a bright brown glass. Upon the whole, as this is not a book, nor a fragment of an old illumination, I will say nothing more about its age. I was scarcely three quarters of an hour in the library; but was fully sensible of the politeness of my attendant, and of the truth of his prediction, that I should receive little entertainment from an examination of the books. It is high time that you should be introduced in proper form to the famous BAYEUX TAPESTRY. Know then, in as few words as possible, that this celebrated piece of Tapestry represents chiefly the INVASION OF ENGLAND by WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR, and the subsequent death of Harold at the battle of Hastings. It measures about 214 English feet in length, by about nineteen inches in width; and is supposed to have been worked under the particular superintendance and direction of Matilda, the wife of the Conqueror. It was formerly exclusively kept and exhibited in the Cathedral; but it is now justly retained in the Town Hall, and treasured as the most precious relic among the archives of the city. There is indeed every reason to consider it as one of the most valuable historical monuments which France possesses. It has also given rise to a great deal of archaeological discussion. Montfaucon, Ducarel, and De La Rue, have come forward successively--but more especially the first and last: and Montfaucon in particular has favoured the world with copper-plate representations of the whole. Montfaucon's plates are generally much too small: and the more enlarged ones are too ornamental. It is right, first of all, that you should have an idea how this piece of tapestry is preserved, or rolled up. You see it here, therefore, precisely as it appears after the person who shews it, takes off the cloth with which it is usually covered. [Illustration] The first portion of the needle-work, representing the embassy of Harold, from Edward the Confessor to William Duke of Normandy, is comparatively much defaced--that is to say, the stitches are worn away, and little more than the ground, or fine close linen cloth, remains. It is not far from the beginning--and where the colour is fresh, and the stitches are, comparatively, preserved--that you observe the PORTRAIT OF HAROLD.[147] You are to understand that the stitches, if they may be so called, are threads laid side by side--and bound down at intervals by cross stitches, or fastenings--upon rather a fine linen cloth; and that the parts intended to represent _flesh_ are left untouched by the needle. I obtained a few straggling shreds of the _worsted_ with which it is Worked. The colours are generally a faded or bluish green, crimson, and pink. About the last five feet of this extraordinary roll are in a yet more decayed and imperfect state than the first portion. But the designer of the subject, whoever he was, had an eye throughout to Roman art--as it appeared in its later stages. The folds of the draperies, and the proportions of the figures, are executed with this feeling. I must observe that, both at top and at bottom of the principal subject, there is a running allegorical ornament;[148] of which I will not incur the presumption to suppose myself a successful interpreter. The constellations, and the symbols of agriculture and of rural occupation, form the chief subjects of this running ornament. All the inscriptions are executed in capital letters of about an inch in length; and upon the whole, whether this extraordinary and invaluable relic be of the latter end of the XIth, or of the beginning or middle of the XIIth century[149] seems to me a matter of rather a secondary consideration. That it is at once _unique_ and important, must be considered as a position to be neither doubted nor denied, I have learnt, even here, of what importance this tapestry-roll was considered in the time of Bonaparte's threatened invasion of our country: and that, after displaying it at Paris for two or three months, to awaken the curiosity and excite the love of conquest among the citizens, it was conveyed to one or two _sea-port_ towns, and exhibited upon the stage as a most important _materiel_ in dramatic effect.[150] I think you have now had a pretty good share of Bayeux intelligence; only that I ought not to close my despatches without a word or two relating to habits, manners, trade, and population. This will scarcely occupy a page. The men and women here are thoroughly Norman. Stout bodies, plump countenances, wooden shoes, and the cauchoise--even to exceedingly _tall copies_ of the latter! The population may run hard upon ten thousand. The chief articles of commerce are _butter_ and _lace_. Of the former, there are two sorts: one, delicate and well flavoured, is made during winter and spring; put up into small pots, and carried from hence in huge paniers, not only to all the immediately adjacent parts of the country, but even to Paris--and is shipped in large quantities for the colonies. They have made as much as 120,000 lb. weight each season; but _Isigny_, a neighbouring village, is rather the chief place for its production. The other sort of butter, which is eaten by the common people, and which in fact is made throughout the whole of Lower Normandy, (the very butter, in short, in which the huge _alose_ was floating in the pot of the lively cuisiniere at Duclair[151]) is also chiefly made at Isigny; but instead of a delicate tint, and a fine flavour, it is very much the contrary: and the mode of making and transporting it accords with its qualities. It is salted, and packed in large pots, and even barrels, for the sake of exportation; and not less than 50,000 lb. weight is made each week. The whole profit arising from butter has been estimated at not less than two millions of francs: add to which, the circulation of specie kept up by the payment of the workmen, and the purchase of salt. As to _lace_, there are scarcely fewer than three thousand females constantly employed in the manufacture of that article. The mechanics here, at least some of them, are equally civil and ingenious. In a shop, in the high or principal street, I saw an active carpenter, who had lost the fore finger of his right hand, hard at work--alternately whistling and singing--over a pretty piece of ornamental furniture in wood. It was the full face of a female, with closely curled hair over the forehead, surmounted by a wreath of flowers, having side curls, necklace, and platted hair. The whole was carved in beech, and the form and expression of the countenance were equally correct and pleasing. This merry fellow had a man or two under him, but he worked double tides, compared with his dependants. I interrupted him singing a French air, perfectly characteristic of the taste of his country. The title and song were thus: TOU JOURS. TOUJOURS, toujours, je te serai fidèle; Disait Adolphe à chaque instant du jour; Toujours, toujours je t'aimerai, ma belle, Je veux le dire aux échos d'alentour; Je graverai sur l'écorce d'un hètre, Ce doux serment que le dieu des amours, Vient me dieter, en me faisant connaître; Que mon bonheur est de t'aimer toujours. _Bis_. Toujours, toujours, lui répondit Adèle, Tu régneras dans le fond de mon coeur; Toujours, toujours, comme une tourterelle, Je promets bien t'aimer avec ardeur; Je pense à toi quand le soleil se lève, J'y pense encore à la tin de son cours; Dans le sommeil si quelquefois je reve, C'est au bonheur de te chérir toujours. He was a carver on wainscoat wood: and if I would give myself "la peine d'entrer," he would shew me all sorts of curiosities. I secured a favourable reception, by purchasing the little ornament upon which he was at work--for a napoleon. I followed the nimble mechanic (ci-devant a soldier in Bonaparte's campaigns, from whence he dated the loss of his finger) through a variety of intricate passages below and up stairs; and saw, above, several excellently well finished pieces of furniture, for drawers or clothes-presses, in wainscoat wood:--the outsides of which were carved sometimes with clustered roses, surrounding a pair of fond doves; or with representations of Cupids, sheep, bows and arrows, and the various _emblemata_ of the tender passion. They would have reminded you of the old pieces of furniture which you found in your grandfather's mansion, upon taking possession of your estate: and indeed are of themselves no despicable ornaments in their way. I was asked from eight to twelve napoleons for one of these pieces of massive and elaborately carved furniture, some six or seven feet in height. In all other respects, this is a town deserving of greater antiquarian research than appears to have been bestowed upon it; and I cannot help thinking that its ancient ecclesiastical history is more interesting than is generally imagined. In former days the discipline and influence of its See seem to have been felt and acknowledged throughout nearly the whole of Normandy. Adieu. In imagination, the spires of COUTANCES CATHEDRAL begin to peep in the horizon. [141] [Mr. Cotman has an excellent engraving of it.] [142] He has since established himself at Paris, near the Luxembourg palace, as a _bookseller_; and it is scarcely three months since I received a letter from him, in which he told me that he could no longer resist the more powerful impulses of his heart--and that the phials of physic were at length abandoned for the volumes of Verard and of Gourmont. My friend, Mr. Dawson Turner, who knew him at Bayeux, has purchased books of him at Paris. [The preceding in 1820.] [143] Mr. Stothard, Jun. See page 221 ante. Mr. S's own account of the tapestry may be seen in the XIXth volume of the Archæologia. It is brief, perspicuous, and satisfactory. His fac-simile is one half the size of the original; executed with great neatness and fidelity; but probably the touches are a _little_ too artist-like or masterly. [144] [The facsimile of that portion of the tapestry which is supposed to be a portrait of Harold, and which Mr. Lewis, who travelled with me, executed, is perhaps of its kind, one of the most perfect things extant. In saying this, I only deliver the opinions of very many competent judges. It must however be noticed, that the Society of Antiquaries published the whole series of this exceedingly curious and ancient Representation of the Conquest of our Country by William I. Of this publication, the figures measure about four inches in height: but there is also a complete, and exceedingly successful fac-simile of the first two figures of this series--of the size of the originals (William I. and the Messenger coming to announce to him the landing of Harold in England) also published from the same quarter. The whole of these Drawings were from the pencil of the late ingenious and justly lamented THOS. STOTHARD, Esq. Draftsman to the Society of Antiquaries.] [145] A complete copy is of rarity in our own country, but not so abroad. It is yet, however, an imperfect work. [146] There have been bibliographers, and there are yet knowing book-collectors, who covet this edition in preference to the Leipsic impression of Sir T. More's Works of 1698; in folio. But this must proceed from sheer obstinacy; or rather, perhaps, from ignorance that the latter edition contains the _Utopia_--whereas in the former it is unaccountably omitted to be reprinted--which it might have been, from various previous editions. [147] This figure is introduced with pursuivants and dogs: but great liberties, as a nice eye will readily discern, have been taken by Montfaucon, when compared with the original--of which the fac-simile, in the previous edition of this work, may be pronounced to be PERFECT. [148] Something similar may be seen round the border of the baptismal vase of St. Louis, in Millin's _Antiquités Nationales_. A part of the border in the Tapestry is a representation of subjects from Aesop's Fables. [149] Of a monument, which has been pronounced by one of our ablest antiquaries to be "THE NOBLEST IN THE WORLD RELATING TO OUR OLD ENGLISH HISTORY," (See _Stukely's Palæog. Britan._ Number XI. 1746, 4to. p. 2-3) it may be expected that some archæological discussion should be here subjoined. Yet I am free to confess that, after the essays of Messrs. Gurney, Stothard, and Amyot, (and more especially that of the latter gentleman) the matter--as to the period of its execution--may be considered as well nigh, if not wholly, at rest. These essays appear in the XVIIIth and XIXth volumes of the Archæologia. The Abbé de la Rue contended that this Tapestry was worked in the time of the second Matilda, or the Empress Maud, which would bring it to the earlier part of the XIIth century. The antiquaries above mentioned contend, with greater probability, that it is a performance of the period which it professes to commemorate; namely, of the defeat of Harold at the battle of Hastings, and consequently of the acquiring of the Crown of England, by conquest, on the part of William. This latter therefore brings it to the period of about 1066, to 1088--so that, after all, the difference of opinion is only whether this Tapestry be fifty years older or younger, than the respective advocates contend. But the most copious, particular, and in my humble judgment the most satisfactory, disquisition upon the date of this singular historical monument, is entitled, "_A Defence of the early Antiquity of the Bayeux Tapestry_," by Thomas Amyot, Esq. immediately following Mr. Stothard's communication, in the work just referred to. It is at direct issue with all the hypotheses of the Abbé de la Rue, and in my opinion the results are triumphantly established. Whether the _Normans_ or the _English_ worked it, is perfectly a secondary consideration. The chief objections, taken by the Abbé, against its being a production of the XIth century, consist in, first, its not being mentioned among the treasures possessed by the Conqueror at his decease:--secondly, that, if the Tapestry were deposited in the church, it must have suffered, if not have been annihilated, at the storming of Bayeux and the destruction of the Cathedral by fire in the reign of Henry I., A.D. 1106:--thirdly, the silence of _Wace_ upon the subject,--who wrote his metrical histories nearly a century after the Tapestry is supposed to have been executed." The latter is chiefly insisted upon by the learned Abbé; who, which ever champion come off victorious in this archæological warfare, must at any rate receive the best thanks of the antiquary for the methodical and erudite manner in which he has conducted his attacks. At the first blush it cannot fail to strike us that the Abbé de la Rue's positions are all of a _negative_ character; and that, according to the strict rules of logic, it must not be admitted, that because such and such writers have _not_ noticed a circumstance, therefore that circumstance or event cannot have taken place. The first two grounds of objection have, I think, been fairly set aside by Mr. Amyot. As to the third objection, Mr. A. remarks--"But it seems that Wace has not only _not_ quoted the tapestry, but has varied from it in a manner which proves that he had never seen it. The instances given of this variation are, however, a little unfortunate. The first of them is very unimportant, for the difference merely consists in placing a figure at the _stern_ instead of the _prow_ of a ship, and in giving him a bow instead of a trumpet. From an authority quoted by the Abbé himself, it appears that, with regard to this latter fact, the Tapestry was right, and Wace was wrong; and thus an argument is unintentionally furnished in favour of the superior antiquity of the Tapestry. The second instance of variation, namely, that relating to Taillefer's sword, may be easily dismissed; since, after all, it now appears, from Mr. Stothard's examination, that neither Taillefer nor his sword is to be found in the Tapestry," &c. But it is chiefly from the names of ÆLFGYVA and WADARD, inscribed over some of the figures, that I apprehend the conclusion in favour of the Tapestry's being nearly a contemporaneous production, may be safely drawn. It is quite clear that these names belong to persons living when the work was in progress, or within the recollection of the workers, and that they were attached to persons of some particular note or celebrity, or rather perhaps of _local_ importance. An eyewitness, or a contemporary only would have introduced them. They would not have lived in the memory of a person, whether mechanic or historian, who lived a _century_ after the event. No antiquary has yet fairly appropriated these names, and more especially the second. It follows therefore that they would not have been introduced had they not been in existence at the time; and in confirmation of that of WADARD, it seems that Mr. Henry Ellis (Secretary of the Society of Antiquaries) "confirmed Mr. Amyot's conjecture on that subject, by the references with which he furnished him to _Domesday Book_, where his name occurs in no less than six counties, as holding lands of large extent under _Odo_, Bishop of Bayeux, the tenant in capite of those properties from the crown. That he was not a _guard_ or _centinel,_ as the Abbé de la Rue supposes, but that he held an _office of rank_ in the household of either William or Odo, seems now decided beyond a doubt." Mr. Amyot thus spiritedly concludes:--alluding to the successful completion of Mr. Stothard's copy of the entire original roll.--"Yet if the BAYEUX TAPESTRY be not history of the first class, it is perhaps something better. It exhibits general traits, elsewhere sought in vain, of the costume and manners of that age, which, of all others, if we except the period of the Reformation, ought to be the most interesting to us;--that age, which gave us a new race of monarchs, bringing with them new landholders, new laws, and almost a new language." Mr. Amyot has subjoined a specimen of his own poetical powers in describing "the Minstrel TAILLEFER'S achievements," in the battle of Hastings, from the old Norman lays of GAIMAR and WACE. I can only find room for the first few verses. The poem is entitled, THE ONSET OF TAILLEFER. Foremost in the bands of France, Arm'd with hauberk and with lance, And helmet glittering in the air, As if a warrior knight he were, Rush'd forth the MINSTREL TAILLEFER Borne on his courser swift and strong, He gaily bounded o'er the plain, And raised the heart-inspiring song (Loud echoed by the warlike throng) Of _Roland_ and of _Charlemagne_, Of _Oliver_, brave peer of old, Untaught to fly, unknown to yield, And many a Knight and Vassal bold, Whose hallowed blood, in crimson flood, Dyed _Roncevalle's_ field. [150] M. Denon told me, in one of my visits to him at Paris, that by the commands of Bonaparte, he was charged with the custody of this Tapestry for three months; that it was displayed in due form and ceremony in the Museum; and that after having taken a hasty sketch of it, (which he admitted could not be considered as very faithful) he returned it to Bayeux--as it was considered to be the peculiar property of that place. [151] See p. 109 ante. LETTER XVI. BAYEUX TO COUTANCES. ST. LO. THE CATHEDRAL OF COUTANCES. ENVIRONS. AQUEDUCT. MARKET-DAY. PUBLIC LIBRARY. ESTABLISHMENT FOR THE CLERGY. I send you this despatch close to the very Cathedral, whose spires, while yet at Bayeux, were already glimmering in the horizon of my imagination. The journey hither has been in every respect the most beautiful and interesting that I have experienced on _this_ side the Seine. I have seen something like undulating pasture-lands, wooded hills, meandering streams, and well-peopled villages; and an air of gaiety and cheerfulness, as well as the charm of picturesque beauty, has accompanied me from one cathedral to the other. I left the _Hôtel de Luxembourg_, at Bayeux, in a hired cabriolet with a pair of horses, about five in the afternoon, pushing on, at a smart trot, for ST. LO: which latter place I entered by moon-light. The road, as usual, was broad and bold, and at times undulating; flanked by beech, elm, and fir. As I just observed to you, I entered St. Lo by moon-light: the double towers of the great cathedral-like looking church having a grand and even romantic effect on approaching the town. An old castle, or rather a mere round-tower relic of one, appeared to the left, upon entering it. Passing the porch, or west end of the church, sometimes descending, at others ascending--midst close streets and overhanging roofs of houses, which cast a deep and solemn shadow, so as to shut out the moon beams for several hundred yards--and pursuing a winding route, I at length stopped at the door of the principal hôtel--_au Grand Coq!_ I laughed heartily when I heard its name; for with the strictest adherence to truth the adjective ought to have been _petit!_ However, the beds seemed to be in good order, and the coffee, with which I was quickly served, proved to be excellent. I strolled out, on a _reconnoissance_, about half-past nine; but owing to the deep shadows from the moon, arising from the narrowness of the streets, I could make out nothing satisfactory of the locale. The church, however, promised a rich treat on the morrow. As soon as the morrow came, I betook myself to the church. It was Sunday morning. The square, before the west front of the church, was the rendezvous both of townsmen and countryfolks: but what was my astonishment on observing in one corner of it, a quack doctor vending powder for the effectual _polishing of metals_. He had just beaten his drum, in order to collect his audience; and having got a good assemblage, was full of the virtues of his wares--which were pronounced to be also "equally efficacious for _complaints in the stomach!_" This man had been preceded, in the situation which he occupied, by a rival charlatan, on horseback, with _powders to kill rats_. The latter stood upon the same eminence, wearing a hat, jacket, and trowsers, all white--upon which were painted _black rats_ of every size and description; and in his harangue to the populace he took care to tell them that the rats, painted upon his dress, were _exact portraits_ of those which had been destroyed by means of his powders! This, too, on a Sunday morning. But remember Dieppe.[152] Having despatched my breakfast, I proceeded to survey the church, from which the town takes its name. First, for the exterior. The _attached_ towers demand attention and admiration. They are so slightly attached as to be almost separated from the body or nave; forming something of that particular character which obtains more decidedly at the cathedral of Coutances. I am not sure whether this portion of the church at St. Lo be not preferable, on the score of regularity and delicacy, to the similar portion at this latter place. The west front is indeed its chief beauty of exterior attraction; and it was once rendered doubly interesting by a profusion of alto-rilievo statues, which _disappeared_ during the commotions of the revolution. You ascend rather a lofty flight of steps to this entrance; and into which the whole town seemed to be pouring the full tide of its population. I suffered myself to be carried away along, with the rest, and almost startled as I entered the nave.[153] To the left, is a horribly-painted statue of the Virgin, with the child in her arms. The countenance is even as ugly, old, and repulsive, as the colouring is most despicable. I never saw such a daub: and what emotions, connected with tenderness of feeling, or ardour of devotion, can the contemplation of such an object excite? Surely the parish must have lost its wits, as well as its taste, to endure such a monstrous exhibition of art. As I advanced towards the choir, I took especial notice of the very singular, and in my opinion very ugly, formation both of the pillars and arches which sustain the roof. These pillars have _no capitals_, and the arch springs from them in the most abrupt manner. The arch itself is also very short and sharp pointed; like the tops of lancet windows. This mode obtains pretty generally here; but it should be noted that, in the right side aisle, the pillars have capitals. There is something unusual also in the row of pillars which spring up, flanking the choir, half way between the walls of the choir and the outward wall of the church. Nor am I sure that, destitute of a graceful, superadded arch, such massive perpendicular lines have either meaning or effect. Whether St. Lo were the _first_ church upon which the architect, who built both _that_ and the cathedral at _Coutances_, tried his talents--or whether, indeed, both churches be the effort of the same hand--I cannot pretend to determine; but, both outwardly and inwardly, these two churches have a strong resemblance to each other. Like many other similar buildings in France, the church of St. Lo is closely blocked up by surrounding houses. I prepared to leave St. Lo about mid-day, after agreeing for a large heavy machine, with a stout pair of horses, to conduct me to this place. There are some curious old houses near the inn, with exterior ornaments like those of the XVIth century, in our own country. But on quitting the town, in the road to Coutances,--after you come to what are called the old castle walls, on passing the outer gate--your eye is struck by rather an extraordinary combination of objects. The town itself seems to be built upon a rock. Above, below, every thing appears like huge scales of iron; while, at the bottom, in a serpentine direction, runs the peaceful and fruitful river _Aure_.[154] The country immediately around abounds in verdant pasture, and luxuriantly wooded heights. Upon the whole, our sortie from St. Lo, beneath a bright blue sky and a meridian sun, was extremely cheerful and gratifying. A hard road (but bold and broad, as usual) soon convinced me of the uncomfortableness of the conveyance; which, though roomy, and of rather respectable appearance, wanted springs: but the increasing beauty of the country, kept my attention perfectly occupied, till the beautiful cathedral, of COUTANCES caught my notice, on an elevated ground, to the left. The situation is truly striking, gaze from what quarter you will. From that of St. Lo, the immediate approach to the town is rendered very interesting from the broad _route royale_, lined with birch, hazel, and beech. The delicacy, or perhaps the peculiarity of the western towers of the cathedral, struck me as singularly picturesque; while the whole landscape was warmed by the full effulgence of an unclouded sun, and animated by the increasing numbers and activity of the _paysannes_ and _bourgeoises_ mingling in their sabbath-walks. Their bright dark _blues_ and _crimsons_ were put on upon the occasion; and nought but peace, tranquillity, and fruitfulness seemed to prevail on all sides. It was a scene wherein you might have placed Arcadian shepherds--worthy of being copied-by the pencil of Claude. We entered the town at a sharp trot. The postilion, flourishing his whip, and causing its sound to re-echo through the principal street, upon an ascent, drove to the chief inn, the _Hôtel d'Angleterre_, within about one hundred yards of the cathedral. Vespers were just over; and I shall not readily forget the rush and swarm of the clergy who were pouring out, from the north door, and covering the street with one extensive black mass. There could not have been fewer than two hundred young Ecclesiastics--thus returning from vespers to their respective homes; or rather to the College, or great clerical establishment, in the neighbourhood. This College, which has suffered from violence and neglect, through the revolution and Bonaparte's dynasty, is now beginning to raise its head in a very distinguished and commanding manner. It was a singular sight--to see such a crowd of young men, wearing cocked hats, black robes, and black bands with white edging! The women were all out in the streets; sitting before their doors, or quietly lounging or walking. The afternoon was indeed unusually serene. I ordered a late dinner, and set out for the cathedral. It was impossible to visit it at a more favorable moment. The congregation had departed; and a fine warm sun darted its rays in every surrounding direction. As I looked around, I could not fail to be struck with the singular arrangement of the columns round the choir: or rather of the double aisle between the choir and the walls, as at St. Lo; but here yet more distinctly marked. For a wonder, an _unpainted_ Virgin and child in Our Lady's chapel, behind the choir! There is nothing, I think, in the interior of this church that merits particular notice and commendation, except it be some beautifully-stained glass windows; with the arms, however, of certain noble families, and the regal arms (as at Bayeux) obliterated. There is a deep well in the north transept, to supply the town with water in case of fire. The pulpit is large and handsome; but not so magnificent as that at Bayeux. The organ is comparatively small. Perhaps the thirteenth century is a period sufficiently remote to assign for the completion of the interior of this church, for I cannot subscribe to the hypothesis of the Abbé de la Rue, that this edifice was probably erected by Tancred King of Sicily at the end of the eleventh, or at the beginning of the twelfth century. The exterior of this Church is indeed its chief attraction.[155] Unquestionably the style of architecture is very peculiar, and does not, as far as I know, extend beyond St. Lo, in Normandy. My great object was to mount upon the roof of the central tower, which is octagonal, containing fine lofty lancet windows, and commanding from its summit a magnificent panorama. Another story, one half the height of the present erection from the roof of the nave, would put a glorious finish to the central tower of NOTRE DAME at COUTANCES. As I ascended this central tower, I digressed occasionally into the lateral galleries along the aisles. To look down, was somewhat terrific; but who could help bewailing the wretched, rotten, green-tinted appearance of the roof of the north aisle?--which arose here, as at Bayeux, from its being stripped of the lead (during the Revolution) to make _bullets_--and from the rain's penetrating the interior in consequence. As I continued to ascend, I looked through the apertures to notice the fine formation and almost magical erection of the lancet windows of the western towers: and the higher I mounted, the more beautiful and magical seemed to be that portion of the building. At length I reached the summit; and concentrating myself a little, gazed around. The view was lovely beyond measure. Coutances lies within four miles of the sea, so that to the west and south there appeared an immense expanse of ocean. On the opposite points was an extensive landscape, well-wooded, undulating, rich, and thickly studded with farm-houses. _Jersey_ appeared to the north-west, quite encircled by the sea; and nearly to the south, stood out the bold insulated little rock of _Granville_, defying the eternal washing of the wave. Such a view is perhaps no where else to be seen in Normandy; certainly not from any ecclesiastical edifice with which I am acquainted. The sun was now declining apace, which gave a wanner glow to the ocean, and a richer hue to the landscape. It is impossible to particularize. All was exquisitely refreshing and joyous. The heart beats with a fuller pulsation as the eye darts over such an expansive and exhilarating scene! Spring was now clad in her deepest-coloured vesture: and a prospect of a fine summer and an abundant harvest infused additional delight into the beholder. Immediately below, stood the insulated and respectable mansion or Palace of _the Bishop_; in the midst of a formal garden--begirt with yet more formally clipt hedges. As the Prelate bore a good character, I took a pleasure in gazing upon the roof which contained an inhabitant capable of administering so much good to the community. In short, I shall always remember the view from the top of the central tower of the cathedral of Coutances! I quitted such a spot with reluctance; but time was flying away, and the patience of the cuisinier at the Hôtel d'Angleterre had already been put somewhat to the test. In twenty minutes I sat down to my dinner, in a bed-room, of which the furniture was chiefly of green silk. The females, even in the humblest walks, have generally fine names; and _Victorina_ was that of the fille de chambre at the Hôtel d'Angleterre. After dinner I walked upon what may be called the heights of Coutances; and a more delightful evening's walk I never enjoyed. The women of every description--ladies, housekeepers, and servant maids--were all abroad; either sitting upon benches, or standing in gossiping groups, or straying in friendly pairs. The comeliness of the women was remarkable; a certain freshness of tint, and prevalence of the embonpoint, reminded me of those of our own country; and among the latter, I startled--as I gazed upon a countenance which afforded but too vivid a resemblance to that of a deceased relation! Certainly the Norman women are no where more comely and interesting than they are at Coutances. The immediate environs of this place are beautiful and interesting: visit them in what direction you please. But there is nothing which so immediately strikes you as the remains of an _ancient Aqueduct_; gothicised at the hither end, but with three or four circular arches at the further extremity, where it springs from the opposite banks. Fine as was yesterday, this day has not been inferior to it. I was of course glad of an opportunity of visiting the market, and of mingling with the country people. The boulevards afforded an opportunity of accomplishing both these objects. Corn is a great article of trade; and they have noble granaries for depositing it. Apparently there is a great conflux of people, and much business stirring. I quickly perceived, in the midst of this ever-moving throng, my old friend the vender of rat-destroying powders--busied in the exercise of his calling, and covered with his usual vestment of white, spotted or painted with black rats. He found plenty of hearers and plenty of purchasers. All was animation and bustle. In the midst of it, a man came forward to the edge of a bank--below which a great concourse was assembled. He beat a drum, to announce that a packet boat, would sail to Jersey in the course of the afternoon; but the people seemed too intent upon their occupations and gambols to attend to him. I sat upon a bench and read one of the little chap books--_Richard sans peur_--which I had purchased the same morning. While absorbed in reflections upon the heterogeneous scene before me--and wishing, for some of my dearest friends in England to be also spectators of it--the notes of an hand-organ more and more distinctly stole upon my ear. They were soft; and even pleasing notes. On looking round, I observed that the musician preceded a person, who carried aloft a Virgin, with the infant Jesus, in wax; and who, under such a sign, exhorted the multitude to approach and buy his book-wares. I trust I was too thorough-bred a _Roxburgher_ to remain quiet on the bench: and accordingly starting up, and extending two sous, I became the fortunate purchaser of a little _chap_ article--of which my friend BERNARDO will for ever, I fear, envy me the possession! The vender of the tome sang through his nose, as the organ warbled the following _Cantique Spirituelle_. EN L'HONNEUR DU TRÈS-SAINT SACREMENT, _Qui est exposé dans la grande Eglise cathédrale de St. Pierre et St. Paul de Rome, pour implorer la miséricorde de Dieu_. Air: du Théodore Français. APPROCHEZ-VOUS, Chrétiens fidèles, Afin d'entendre réciter: Ecoutez tous avec un grand zèle, Avec ferveur et piété, Le voeu que nous avons fait, D'aller au grand Saint Jacques; Grace à Dieu nous l'avons accompli, Pour l'amour de Jésus Christ. Dieu créa le ciel et la terre, Les astres et le firmament; Il fit la brillante lumière, Ainsi que tous les autres élémens, Il a tiré tout du néant, Ce qui respire sur la terre: Rendons hommage à la grandeur De notre divin Créateur. [156]Tous les jours la malice augmente, Il y a très-peu de religion; La jeunesse est trop petulante, Les enfans jurent le saint Nom. Et comment s'étonneroit-on Si tant de fléaux nous tourmentent? Et si l'on voit tant de malheurs, C'est Dieu qui punit les pécheurs. Souvent on assiste à l'Office, C'est comme une manière d'acquit, Sans penser au saint Sacrifice; Ou s'est immolé Jesus Christ. On parle avec ses amis, De ses affaires temporelles, Sans faire aucune attention Aux mystères de la religion. Réfléchissez bien, pères et mères, Sur ces morales et vérités: C'est la loi de Dieu notre Père; C'est lui qui nous les a dictées: Il faut les suivre et les pratiquer, Tant que nous serons sur la terre. N'oublions point qu'après la mort, Nos ames existeront encore. The day was beginning to wear away fast, and I had not yet accomplished the favourite and indispensable object of visiting the PUBLIC LIBRARY. I made two unsuccessful attempts; but the third was fortunate. I had no letter of introduction, and every body was busied in receiving the visits of their country friends. I was much indebted to the polite attention of a stranger: who accompanied me to the house of the public librarian, his friend, who, not being at home, undertook the office of shewing me the books. The room in which they are contained--wholly detached--and indeed at a considerable distance from the cathedral--is about sixty English feet long, low, and rather narrow. It is absolutely crammed with books, in the most shameful state of confusion. I saw, for the first time in Normandy, and with absolute gladness of heart, a copy of the _Complutensian Polyglot Bible_; of which the four latter volumes, in vellum binding, were tall and good: the earlier ones, in calf, not so desirable. For the first time too, since treading Norman soil, I saw a tolerably good sprinkle of _Italian_ books. But the collection stands in dreadful need of weeding. Indeed, this observation may apply to the greater number of public collections throughout Normandy. I thanked my attendant for his patient and truly friendly attention, and took my leave. In my way homewards, I stopped at M. Joubert's, the principal bookseller, and "beat about the bush" for bibliographical game. But my pursuit was not crowned with success. M.J. told me, in reply to black-letter enquiries, that a Monsieur A----, a stout burly man, whom he called "un gros papa"--was in the habit of paying yearly visits from Jersey, for the acquisition of the same black-letter treasures; and that he swept away every thing in the shape of an ancient and _equivocal_ volume, in his annual rounds. I learnt pretty nearly the same thing from Manoury at Caen. M. Joubert is a very sensible and respectable man; and is not only "_Seul Imprimeur de Monseigneur l'Evêque"_ (PIERRE DUPONT-POURSAT), but is in fact almost the only bookseller worth consulting in the place. I bought of him a copy of the _Livre d'Eglise ou Nouveau Paroissien à l'usage du Diocèse de Coutances_, or the common prayer book of the diocese. It is a very thick duodecimo, of 700 double columned pages, printed in a clear, new, and extremely legible character, upon paper of sufficiently good texture. It was bound in sheepskin, and I gave only _thirty sous_ for it new. How it can be published at such a price, is beyond my conception. M. Joubert told me that the compositor or workman received 20 francs for setting up 36 pages, and that the paper was 12 francs per ream. In our own country, such prices would be at least doubled. It is impossible not to be struck here with the great number of YOUNG ECCLESIASTICS. In short, the establishment now erecting for them, will contain, when completed, (according to report) not fewer than four hundred. It is also impossible not to be struck with the extreme simplicity of their manners and deportment. They converse with apparent familiarity with the very humblest of their flock: and seem, from the highest to the lowest, to be cordially received. They are indifferent as to personal appearance. One young man carries a bundle of linen to his laundress, along the streets: another carries a round hat in his hand, having a cocked one upon his head: a kitchen utensil is seen in the hand of a third, and a chair, or small table, in that of a fourth. As these Clergymen pass, they are repeatedly saluted. Till the principal building be finished, many of them are scattered about the town, living quite in the upper stories. In short, it is the _profession_, rather than the particular candidate, which seems to claim the respectful attention of the townsmen. [152] See page 13 ante. [153] Mr. Cotman has a view of this church, in his work on Normandy. [154] I suspect that the "peaceful" waters of this stream were frequently died with the blood of Hugonots and Roman Catholics during the fierce contests between MONTGOMERY and MATIGNON, towards the latter half of the sixteenth century. At that period St. Lo was one of the strongest towns in the Bocage; and the very pass above described, was the avenue by which the soldiers of the captains, just mentioned, alternately advanced and retreated in their respective attacks upon St. Lo: which at length surrendered to the victorious army of the _latter_; the leader of the Catholics. SEGUIN: _Histoire Militaire des Bocains_; _p. 340-384_; 1816, _12 mo_. [155] The reader will be doubtless gratified by the artist-like view of this cathedral, by Mr. Cotman, in his _Architectural Antiquities of Normandy_. [156] It cannot fail to be noticed that the following sentences are in fact _rhyming verse_, though printed prose-wise. LETTER XVII. JOURNEY TO GRANVILLE. GRANVILLE. VILLE DIEU. ST. SEVER. TOWN AND CASTLE OF VIRE. _Vire_. Since my last, I have been as much gratified by the charms of nature and of art, as during any one period of my tour. Prepare, therefore, for miscellaneous intelligence; but such as, I will make bold to predict, cannot fail to afford you considerable gratification. Normandy is doubtless a glorious country. It is fruitful in its soil, picturesque in the disposition of its land and water, and rich in the architectural relics of "the olden time." It is also more than ordinarily interesting to an Englishman. Here, in the very town whence I transmit this despatch--within two hundred and fifty yards of the hotel of the _Cheval Blanc_, which just now encloses me within its granite walls--here, I say, lived and revelled the illustrious family of the DE VERES.[157] Hence William the Conqueror took the famous AUBREY DE VERE to be a spectator of his prowess, and a sharer of his spoils, in his decisive subjugation of our own country. It is from this place that the De Veres derive their name. Their once-proud castle yet towers above the rushing rivulet below, which turns a hundred mills in its course: but the warder's horn has long ceased to be heard, and the ramparts are levelled with the solid rock with which they were once, as it were, identified. I left Coutances with something approaching to reluctance; so completely _anglicised_ seemed to be the scenery and inhabitants. The evening was beautiful in the extreme: and upon gaining the height of one of the opposite hills, within about half a league of the town, on the high Granville route, I alighted--walked, stopped, and gazed, alternately, upon the lovely landscape around--the cathedral, in the mean time, becoming of one entire golden tint from the radiance of the setting sun. It was hardly possible to view a more perfect picture of its kind; and it served as a just counterpart to the more expansive scene which I had contemplated, but the preceding evening, from the heights of that same cathedral. The conducteur of the Diligence rousing me from my rapturous abstraction, I remounted, and descended into a valley; and ere the succeeding height was gained, a fainter light floated over the distant landscape ... and every object reminded me of the accuracy of those exquisite lines of Collins--descriptive of the approach of evening's ... gradual, dusky veil. For the first time, I had to do with a drunken conducteur. Luckily the road was broad, and in the finest possible condition, and perfectly well known to the horses. Every turning was successfully made; and the fear of upsetting began to give way to the annoyance experienced from the roaring and shouting of the conducteur. It was almost dark when I reached GRANVILLE--about twelve miles from Coutances; when I learnt that the horses had run six miles before they started with us. On entering the town, the road was absolutely solid rock: and considering what a _house_ we carried behind us (for so the body of the _diligence_ seemed) and the uncertain footing of the horses, in consequence of the rocky surface of the road, I apprehended the most sinister result. Luckily it was moon-light; when, approaching one of the sorriest looking inns imaginable, whither our conducteur (in spite of the better instructions of the landlord of the Hôtel d'Angleterre at Coutances) had persuaded us to go, the passengers alighted with thankful hearts, and bespoke supper and beds. Granville is fortified on the land side by a deep ravine, which renders an approach from thence almost impracticable. On every other side it is defended by the ocean, into which the town seems to have dropt perpendicularly from the clouds. At high water, Granville cannot be approached, even by transports, nearer than within two-thirds of a league; and of course at low water it is surrounded by an extent of sharply pointed rock and chalk: impenetrable--terrific--and presenting both certain failure and destruction to the assailants. It is a GIBRALTAR IN MINIATURE. The English sharply cannonaded it a few years since, but it was only a political diversion. No landing was attempted. In the time of the civil wars, and more particularly in those of the League, Granville, however, had its share of misery. It is now a quiet, dull, dreary, place; to be visited only for the sake of the view from thence, looking towards _St. Malo_, and _Mont St. Michel_; the latter of which I give up--as an hopeless object of attainment. Granville is in fact built upon rock;[158] and the houses and the only two churches are entirely constructed of granite. The principal church (I think it was the principal) is rather pretty within, as to its construction; but the decidedly gloomy effect given to it by the tint of the _granite_--the pillars being composed of that substance--renders it disagreeable to the eye. I saw several confessionals; and in one of them, the office of confession was being performed by a priest, who attended to two penitents at the same time; but whose physiognomy was so repulsively frightful, that I could not help concluding he was listening to a tale which he was by no means prepared to receive. An hour's examination of the town thoroughly satisfied me. There was no public conveyance to _Vire_, whither I intended immediately departing, and so I hired a voiture to be drawn by one sturdy Norman horse. To a question about springs, the conducteur replied that I should find every thing "très propre." Having paid the reckoning, I set my face towards VIRE. The day, for the season of the year, turned out to be gloomy and cold beyond measure: and the wind (to the east) was directly in my face. Nevertheless the road was one of the finest that I had seen in France, for breadth and general soundness of condition. It had all the characteristics, in breadth and straitness, of a Roman route; and as it was greatly undulating, I had frequently some gratifying glimpses of its bold direction. The surrounding country was of a quietly picturesque but fruitful aspect; and had my seat been comfortable, or after the fashion of those in my own country, my sensations had been more agreeable. But in truth, instead of _springs_, or any thing approximating to "très propre," I had to encounter a _hard plank_, suspended at the extremities, by a piece of leather, to the sides; and as the road was but too well bottomed, and the conveyance was open in front to the bitter blast of the east, I can hardly describe (as I shall never forget) the misery of this conveyance. Fortunately the first stage was _Ville Dieu_. Here I ordered a voiture and post horses: but the master of the Poste Royale, or rather of the inn, shook his head--"Pour les chevaux, vous en aurez des meilleurs: mais, pour la voiture il n'y en a pas. Tenez, Monsieur; venez voir." I followed, with miserable forebodings--and entering a shed, where stood an old tumble-down-looking phaeton--"la voilà, c'est la seule que je possède en ce moment"--exclaimed the landlord. It had never stirred from its position since the fall of last years' leaf. It had been--within and without--the roosting place for fowls and other of the feathered tribe in the farm yard; and although literally covered with the _evidences_ of such long and undisturbed possession, yet, as there was no appearance of rain, and as I discovered the wished for "_ressorts_" (or _springs_) I compromised for the repulsiveness of the exterior, and declared my intention of taking it onward. Water, brooms, brushes, and cloths, were quickly put in requisition; and two stately and well fed horses, which threatened to fly away with this slender machine, being fastened on, I absolutely darted forward at a round rattling gallop for _St. Sever_. Blessings ever wait upon the memory of that artisan who invented ... _springs_! The postilion had the perfect command of his horses, and he galloped, or trotted, or ambled, as his fancy--or rather our wishes--directed. The approach to our halting place was rather imposing. What seemed to be a monastery, or church, at St. Sever, had quite the appearance of Moorish architecture; and indeed as I had occasional glimpses of it through the trees, the effect was exceedingly picturesque. This posting town is in truth very delightfully situated. While the horses were being changed, I made our way for the monastery; which I found to be in a state rather of dilapidation than of ruin. It had, indeed, a wretched aspect. I entered the chapel, and saw lying, transversely upon a desk, to the left--a very clean, large paper, and uncut copy of the folio _Rouen Missal_ of 1759. Every thing about this deserted and decaying spot had a melancholy appearance: but the surrounding country was rich, wooded, and picturesque. In former days of prosperity--such as St. Sever had seen before the Revolution--there had been gaiety, abundance, and happiness. It was now a perfect contrast to such a state. On returning to the "_Poste Royale_" I found two fresh lusty horses to our voiture--but the postilion had sent a boy into the field to catch a _third_. Wherefore was this? The tarif exacted it. A third horse "réciproquement pour l'année"--parce qu'il faut traverser une grande montagne avant d'arriver à Vire"--was the explanatory reply. It seemed perfectly ridiculous, as the vehicle was of such slender dimensions and weight. However, I was forced to yield. To scold the postboy was equally absurd and unavailing: "parce que la tarif l'exigea." But the "montagne" was doubtless a reason for this additional horse: and I began to imagine that something magnificently picturesque might be in store. The three horses were put a-breast, and off we started with a phaeton-like velocity! Certainly nothing could have a more ridiculous appearance than my pigmy voiture thus conveyed by three animals--strong enough to have drawn the diligence. I was not long in reaching this "huge mountain," which provoked my unqualified laughter--from its insignificant size--and upon the top of which stands the town of VIRE. It had been a _fair_-day; and groups of men and women, returning from the town, in their blue and crimson dresses, cheered somewhat the general gloom of the day, and lighted up the features of the landscape. The nearer I approached, the more numerous and incessant were these groups. Vire is a sort of _Rouen_ in miniature--if bustle and population be only considered. In architectural comparison, it is miserably feeble and inferior. The houses are generally built of granite, and look extremely sombre in consequence. The old castle is yet interesting and commanding. But of this presently. I drove to the "_Cheval Blanc_," and bespoke, as usual, a late dinner and beds. The first visit was to the _castle,_ but it is right that you should know, before hand, that the town of Vire, which contains a population of about ten thousand souls, stands upon a commanding eminence, in the midst of a very beautiful and picturesque country called the BOCAGE. This country was, in former times, as fruitful in civil wars, horrors, and devastations, as the more celebrated Bocage of the more western part of France during the late Revolution. In short, the Bocage of Normandy was the scene of bloodshed during the Calvinistic or Hugonot persecution. It was in the vicinity of this town, in the parts through which I have travelled--from Caen hitherwards--that the hills and the dales rang with the feats of arms displayed in the alternate discomfiture and success of COLIGNY, CONDÉ, MONTMOGERY, and MATIGNON.[159] But for the Castle. It is situated at the extremity of an open space, terminated by a portion of the boulevards; having, in the foreground, the public library to the left, and a sort of municipal hall to the right: neither of them objects of much architectural consequence. Still nearer in the foreground, is a fountain; whither men, women, and children--but chiefly the second class, in the character of _blanchisseuses_--regularly resort for water; as its bason is usually overflowing. It was in a lucky moment that Mr. Lewis paid a visit to this spot; which his ready pencil transmitted to his sketch-book in a manner too beautiful and faithful not to be followed up by a finished design. I send you a portion of this prettily grouped picture; premising, that the woman to the right, in the foreground, begged leave purposely to sit--or rather stand--for her portrait. The artist, in a short time, was completely surrounded by spectators of his graphic skill. [Illustration] The "_Cheval Blanc_"--the name of the hotel at which I reside--should be rather called the "_Cheval Noir_;" for a more dark, dingy, and even dirty residence, for a traveller of any _nasal_ or _ocular_ sensibility, can be rarely visited. My bed room is hung with tapestry; which, for aught I know to the contrary, may represent the daring exploits of MONTGOMERY and MATIGNON: but which is so begrimed with filth that there is no decyphering the subjects worked upon it. On leaving the inn--and making your way to the top of the street--you turn to the left; but on looking down, again to the left, you observe, below you, the great high road leading to _Caen_, which has a noble appearance. Indeed, the manner in which this part of Normandy is intersected with the "_routes royales_" cannot fail to strike a stranger; especially as these roads run over hill and dale, amidst meadows, and orchards, equally abundant in their respective harvests. The immediate vicinity of the town is as remarkable for its picturesque objects of scenery as for its high state of cultivation; and a stroll upon the heights, in whatever part visited, will not fail to repay you for the certain disappointment to be experienced within the streets of the town. Portions of the scenery, from these heights, are not unlike those in Derbyshire, about Matlock. There is plenty of rock, of shrubs, and of fern; while another _Derwent_, less turbid and muddy, meanders below. Thus much for a general, but hasty sketch of the town of Vire. My next shall give you some detail of the _interior_ of a few of the houses, of which I may be said to have hitherto only contemplated the _roofs_. And yet I must not close my despatch without performing my promise about the CASTLE; of which indeed (as you will see by the subjoined miniature view) only a sort of ruinous shell remains. Its age may be a little towards the end of the thirteenth century. The stone is of a deep reddish tint: and although what remains is only a portion of the _keep_, yet I can never suppose it, even in its state of original integrity, to have been of very capacious dimensions. Its site is most commanding. [Illustration] [157] The reader will find the fullest particulars relating to this once-distinguished family, in _Halstead's Genealogical Memoirs of Noble Families, &c_.: a book it is true, of extreme scarcity. In lieu of it let him consult _Collin's Noble Families_. [158] [Mons. Licquet tells us, that in 1439, a Seigneur of Gratot, ceded the rock of Granville to an English Nobleman, on the day of St. John the Baptist, on receiving the homage of a hat of red roses. The Nobleman intended to build a town there; but Henry VI. dispossessed him of it, and built fortifications in 1440. Charles VII. in turn, dispossessed Henry; but the additional fortifications which he built were demolished by order of Louis XIV. &c.] [159] An epitomised account of these civil commotions will be found in the _Histoire Militaire des Bocains, par_ M. RICHARD SEGUIN; _a Vire_, 1816; 12mo. of which work, and of its author, some notice will be taken in the following pages. LETTER XVIII. BIBLIOGRAPHY. MONSIEUR ADAM. MONSIEUR DE LARENAUDIERE. OLIVIER BASSELIN. M. SÉGUIN. THE PUBLIC LIBRARY. It is a sad rainy day; and having no temptation to stir abroad, I have shut myself up by the side of a huge wood fire--(surrounded by the dingy tapestry, of which my last letter did not make very honourable mention) in a thoroughly communicative mood--to make you acquainted with all that has passed since my previous despatch. Books and the Bibliomania be the chief "burden of my present song!" You may remember, in my account of the public library at Caen, that some mention was made of a certain OLIVIER BASSELIN--whom I designated as the DRUNKEN BARNABY _of Normandy_. Well, my friend--I have been at length made happy, and comforted in the extreme, by the possession of a copy of the _Vaudevires_ of that said Olivier Basselin--and from the hands, too, of one of his principal editors ... Monsieur Lanon de Larenaudiere, Avocat, et Maire, de Tallevende-le-Petit. This copy I intend (as indeed I told the donor) for the beloved library at Althorp. But let me tell my tale my own way. Hard by the hotel of the _Cheval Blanc_, (the best, bad as it is--and indeed the only one in the town) lives a printer of the name of ADAM. He is the principal, and the most respectable of his brethren in the same craft. After discoursing upon sundry desultory topics--and particularly examining the _books of Education_, among which I was both surprised and pleased to find the _Distichs of Muretus_[160]--I expressed my regret at having travelled through so many towns of Normandy without meeting with one single copy of the _Vaudevires of Olivier Basselin_ for sale. "It is not very surprising, Sir, since it is a privately printed book, and was never intended for sale. The impression too is very limited. You know, Sir, that the book was published here--and--" "Then I begin to be confident about obtaining it"--replied I. "Gently, Sir;--" resumed Monsieur Adam--"it is not to be bought, even here. But do you know no one...?" "Not a creature." "Well, Sir, take courage. You are an Englishman. One of its principal editors--a very gallant _Bibliomaniac_--who is a great collector and lover of the literature of your country--(here I picked up courage and gaiety of heart) lives in this town. He is President of the Tribunal. Go to him." Seeing me hesitate, in consequence of not having a letter of introduction--"Ce n'est rien (said he) allez tout-droit. Il aime vos compatriotes; et soyez persuadé de l'accueil le plus favorable." Methought Monsieur Adam spake more eloquently than I had yet heard a Norman speak.[161] In two seconds I quitted his shop, (promising to return with an account of my reception) and five minutes brought me into the presence of Monsieur Lanon de Larenaudiere, Président du Tribunal, &c. It is not possible for me to convey to you a notion of the warmth, cordiality, and joyousness of heart, that marked the reception which this gentleman instantly gave me: and I will frankly own that I was as much "abashed" as ever our ancient friend Caxton had been--in the presence of his patroness the Duchess of Burgundy. I followed my new bibliomaniacal acquaintance rapidly up stairs; and witnessed, with extreme pleasure, a few bundles of books (some of them English) lying upon the window seats of the first landing-place; much after the fashion followed in a certain long, rambling, and antique residence, not quite three quarters of a mile from the towers of Westminster Abbey. On gaining the first floor, mine host turned the keys of the doors of two contiguous rooms, and exclaimed, "VOILA MA BIBLIOTHEQUE!" The air of conscious triumph with which these words were uttered, delighted me infinitely; but my delight was much increased on a leisurely survey of one of the prettiest, most useful, and commendable collections of books, chiefly in the department of the Belles-Lettres, which I had ever witnessed. Monsieur de Larenaudiere has a library of about 9000 volumes, of which _eight hundred are English_. But the owner is especially fond of poetical archaeology; in other words, of collecting every work which displays the progress of French and English poetry in the middle and immediately following ages; and talks of _Trouveurs_ and _Troubadours_ with an enthusiasm approaching to extacy. Meanwhile he points his finger to our Warton, Ellis, Ritson, and Southey; tells you how dearly he loves them; but yet leads you to conclude that he _rather_ prefers _Le Grand, Ginguené, Sismondi_, and _Raynouard_. Of the venerable living oracle in these matters, the Abbé de la Rue, he said he considered him as "un peu trop systématique." In short, M. de Larenaudiere has almost a complete critical collection, in our tongue, upon the subject of old poetry; and was most anxious and inquisitive about the present state of cultivation of that branch of literature in England: adding, that he himself meditated a work upon the French poetry of the XIIth and XIIIth centuries. He said he thought his library might be worth about 25,000 francs: nor did I consider such a valuation overcharged. He talks rapidly, earnestly, and incessantly; but he talks well: and spoke of the renown of a certain library in _St. James's Place_, in a manner which could not fail to quicken the pulse and warm the blood of its Librarian. I concluded an interview of nearly two hours, by his compliance with my wish to dine with me on the following day: although he was quite urgent in bargaining for the previous measure of my tasting his _pôtage_ and _vol au vent_. But the shortness and constant occupation of my time would not allow me to accede to it. M. de Larenaudiere then went to a cabinet-like cupboard, drew forth an uncut copy, stitched in blue spotted paper, of his beloved _Vaudevires_ of OLIVIER BASSELIN:[162] and presenting it to me, added "Conservez le, pour l'amour de moi." You may be assured that I received such a present in the most gracious manner I was capable of--but instantly and honestly added--"permettez qu'il soit déposé dans la bibliothèque de Milord S...? "C'est la même chose"--rejoined he; and giving me the address of the public librarian, we separated in the most cordial manner till the morrow. I posted back to Monsieur Adam, the printer and bookseller, and held aloft my blue-covered copy of the _Vaudevires_ as an unquestionable proof of the successful result of my visit to Monsieur La Renaudiere. Leaving the precious cargo with him, and telling him that I purposed immediately visiting the public library, he seemed astonished at my eagerness about books--and asked me if I had ever _published_ any thing _bibliographical_? "Car enfin, Monsieur, la pluspart des _Virois_ ne savent rien de la litérature angloise"--concluded he ... But I had just witnessed a splendid exception to this sweeping clause of censure. I then sought the residence of the Abbé Du MORTUEUX, the public librarian. That gentleman was from home, at a dinner party. I obtained information of the place where he might be found; and considering _two_ o'clock to be rather too early an hour (even in France) to disturb a gentleman during the exercise of so important a function, I strolled in the neighbourhood of the street, where he was regaling, for a full hour and half: when, at the expiration of that time, I ventured to knock at the door of a very respectable mansion, and to enquire for the bibliographical Abbé. "He is here, Sir, and has just done dinner. May I give him your name?" "I am a stranger: an Englishman; who, on the recommendation of Monsieur Larenaudiere, wishes to see the public library. But I will call again in about an hour." "By no means: by no means: the Abbé will see you immediately." And forthwith appeared a very comely, tall, and respectable-looking gentleman, with his hair en plein costume, both as to form and powder. Indeed I had rarely before witnessed so prepossessing a figure. His salutation and address were most gracious and winning; and he told me that I had nothing to do but to accompany him to the place which I wished to visit. Without even returning to his friends, he took his hat--and in one minute, to my surprise, I found myself in the street with the Abbé de Mortueux, in the high way to the PUBLIC LIBRARY. In our way thither our discourse was constant and unrestrained. "You appear here; Monsieur l'Abbé, to be partial to literature;... but allow me first to congratulate you on the beautiful environs of your town." "For literature in general, we are pretty well disposed. In regard to the beauties of the immediate neighbourhood of Vire, we should be unworthy inhabitants indeed, if we were not sensible of them." In five minutes we reached the Library. The shutters of the room were fastened, but the worthy Abbé opened them in a trice; when I saw, for the first time in Normandy, what appeared to be a genuine, old, unmutilated, unpillaged library. The room could be scarcely more than twenty-two feet square. I went instantly to work, with eyes and hands, in the ardent hope, and almost full persuasion, of finding something in the shape of a good old Greek or Roman Classic, or French Chronicle, or Romance. But, alas, I looked, and handled the tomes in vain! The history of the library is this:--The founder was a Monsieur PICHON; who, on being taken prisoner by the English, at the capture of Louisburg in 1758, resided a long time in England under the name of TYRREL, and lived in circumstances of respectability and even of opulence. There--whether on the dispersion of the libraries of our Meads, Foulkes', and Rawlinsons, I know not--he made his collection; took his books over with him to Jersey, where he died in 1780: and bequeathed them, about 3000 in number, to his native town of Vire. M. du Mortueux, who gave me these particulars, has drawn up a little memorial about Pichon. His portrait, executed by an English artist, (whilst he lived among us) adorns the library; with which I hope it will go down to a distant and grateful posterity. The colouring of this portrait is faded: but it is evident that Monsieur Pichon had an expressive and sensible physiognomy. Wonderful to relate, this collection of books was untouched during the Revolution; while the neighbouring library of the _Cordeliers_ was ransacked without mercy. But I regret to say that the books in the cupboards are getting sadly damp. Do not expect any thing very marvellous in the details of this collection; The old-fashioned library doors, of wood, are quite in character with what they protect. Among the earlier printed books, I saw a very bad copy of _Sweynheym and Pannartz's_ edition of the _De Civitate Dei_ of St. Austin, of the date of 1470; and a large folio of _Gering's_ impression of the _Sermons of Leonard de Utino_ printed about the year 1478. This latter was rather a fine book. A little black-letter Latin Bible by Froben, of the date of 1495, somewhat tempted me; but I could not resist asking, in a manner half serious and half jocose, whether a napoleon would not secure me the possession of a piquant little volume of black-letter tracts, printed by my old friend Guido Mercator?[163] The Abbé smiled: observing--"mon ami, on fait voir les livres ici; on les lit même: mais on ne les vend pas." I felt the force of this pointed reply: and was resolved never again to ask an Ecclesiastic to part with a black-letter volume, even though it should be printed by "my old friend Guido Mercator." Seeing there was very little more deserving of investigation, I enquired of my amiable guide about the "LIBRARY OF THE CORDELIERS," of which he had just made mention. He told me that it consisted chiefly of canon and civil law, and had been literally almost destroyed: that he had contrived however to secure a great number of "rubbishing theological books," (so he called them!) which he sold for _three sous_ a piece--and with the produce of which he bought many excellent works for the library. I should like to have had the sifting of this "theological rubbish!" It remained only to thank the Abbé most heartily for his patient endurance of my questions and searches, and particularly to apologise for bringing him from his surrounding friends. He told me, beginning with a "soyez tranquille," that the matter was not worth either a thought or a syllable; and ere we quitted the library, he bade me observe the written entries of the numbers of students who came daily thither to read. There were generally (he told me) from fifteen to twenty "hard at it"--and I saw the names of not fewer than _ninety-two_ who aspired to the honour and privilege of having access to the BIBLIOTHECA PICHONIANA. For the third time, in the same day, I visited Monsieur Adam; to carry away, like a bibliomaniacal Jason, the fleece I had secured. I saw there a grave, stout gentleman--who saluted me on my entrance, and who was introduced to me by Monsieur A. by the name of SÉGUIN. He had been waiting (he said) full three quarters of an hour to see me, and concluded by observing, that, although a man in business, he had aspired to the honour of authorship. He had written, in fact, two rather interesting--but wretchedly, and incorrectly printed--duodecimo volumes, relating to the BOCAGE,[164] in the immediate vicinity of Vire; and was himself the sole vender and distributer of his publications. On my expressing a wish to possess these books, he quitted the premises, and begged I would wait his return with a copy or two of them. While he was gone, M. Adam took the opportunity of telling me that he was a rich, respectable tradesman; but that, having said some severe things of the manufactures of Vire in his _first_ publication,[165] relating to the _civil_ history of the Bocains, his townsmen sharply resented what they considered as reflections thrown out against them; and M. Séguin was told that perhaps his personal safety was endangered ... He wanted not a second hint--but fled from home with precipitancy: and in his absence the populace suspended his effigy, and burnt it before the door of his house. This, however, did not _cool_ the ardour of authorship in M. Séguin. He set about publishing his _military_ history of the Bocains; and in the introductory part took occasion to retort upon the violence of his persecutors. To return to M. Séguin. In about ten minutes he appeared, with two copies in his hand--which I purchased, I thought dearly, at five francs each volume; or a napoleon for the four books. After the adventures of this day, I need hardly tell you that I relished a substantial dinner at a late hour, and that I was well satisfied with Vire. Yesterday M. de Larenaudiere made good his engagement, and dined with me at five, in the salle à manger. This is a large inn; and if good fare depended upon the number and even elegance of female cooks, the traveller ought to expect the very best at the _Cheval Blanc_. The afternoon was so inviting--and my guest having volunteered his services to conduct me to the most beautiful points of view in the immediate neighbourhood--that we each seemed to vie with the other in quickly dispatching what was placed before us; and within thirty-five minutes, from the moment of sitting down, we were in the outskirts of Vire. Never shall I forget that afternoon's ramble. The sun seemed to become more of a golden hue, and the atmosphere to increase in clearness and serenity. A thousand little songsters were warbling in the full-leaved branches of the trees; while the mingled notes of the _blanchisseuses_ and the milk-maids, near the banks of the rippling stream below, reached us in a sort of wild and joyous harmony--as we gazed down from the overhanging heights. The meadows were spotted with sheep, and the orchards teemed with the coming fruit. You may form some notion of the value of this rich and picturesque scenery, when I tell you that M. de Larenaudiere possesses land, in the immediate vicinity of Vire, which lets per acre at the rate of _6l._ _6s._ English. My guide was all gaiety of heart, and activity of step. I followed him through winding paths and devious tracks, amidst coppice-wood and fern--not however till I had viewed, from one particular spot upon the heights, a most commanding and interesting panorama of the town of Vire. In our perambulation, we discoursed of English poetry; and I found that THOMSON was as great a favourite with my guide as with the rest of his countrymen. Indeed he frankly told me that he had translated him into French verse, and intended to publish his translation. I urged him to quote specimens; which he did with a readiness and force, and felicity of version, that quite delighted me. He thoroughly understands the original; and in the description of a cataract, or mountain torrent, from the Summer, he appeared to me almost to surpass it. My guide then proceeded to quote Young and Pope, and delivered his opinion of our two great Whig and Tory Reviews. He said he preferred the politics and vivacity of the _Edinburgh_, but thought the _Quarterly_ more instructive and more carefully written. "Enfin (he concluded) j'aime infiniment votre gouvernement, et vos écrivains; mais j'aime moins le peuple Anglois." I replied that he had at least very recently shewn an exception to this opinion, in his treatment of _one_ among this _very_ people. "C'est une autre chose"--replied he briskly, and laughingly--"vous allez voir deux de vos compatriotes, qui sont mes intimes, et vous en serez bien content!" So saying, we continued our route through a delightful avenue of beech-trees, upon the most elevated part within the vicinity of the town; and my companion bade me view from thence the surrounding country. It was rich and beautiful in the extreme; and with perfect truth, I must say, resembled much more strongly the generality of our own scenery than what I had hitherto witnessed in Normandy. But the sun was beginning to cast his shadows broader and broader, and where was the residence of Monsieur and Madame S----? It was almost close at hand. We reached it in a quarter of an hour--but the inmates were unluckily from home. The house is low and long, but respectable in appearance both within and without. The approach to it is through a pretty copse, terminated by a garden; and the surrounding grounds are rather tastefully laid out. A portion of it indeed had been trained into something in the shape of a labyrinth; in the centre of which was a rocky seat, embedded as it were in moss--and from which some fine glimpses were caught of the surrounding country. The fragrance from the orchard trees, which had not yet quite shed their blossoms, was perfectly delicious; while the stillness of evening added to the peculiar harmony of the whole. We had scarcely sauntered ten minutes before Madame arrived. She had been twelve years in France, and spoke her own language so imperfectly, or rather so unintelligibly, that I begged of her to resume the French. Her reception of us was most hospitable: but we declined cakes and wine, on account of the lateness of the hour. She told us that her husband was in possession of from fourscore to a hundred acres of the most productive land; and regretted that he was from home, on a visit to a neighbouring gentleman; assuring us, if we could stay, that he would be heartily glad to see us--"especially any of his _countrymen_, when introduced by Monsieur de Larenaudiere." It was difficult to say who smiled and bowed with the greater complacency, at this double-shotted compliment. I now pressed our retreat homewards. We bade this agreeable lady farewell, and returned down the heights, and through the devious paths by which we had ascended, While talk of various kind deceived the road. A more active and profitable day has not yet been devoted to Norman objects, whether of art or of nature. Tomorrow I breakfast with my friend and guide, and immediately afterwards push on for FALAISE. A cabriolet is hired, but doubts are entertained respecting the practicability of the route. My next epistle will be therefore from Falaise--where the renowned William the Conqueror was born, whose body we left entombed at Caen. The day is clearing up; and I yet hope for a stroll upon the site of the castle. [160] "_Les Distiques de Muret, traduits en vers Français, par Aug. A_. Se vend à Vire, chez Adam imprimeur-lib. An. 1809. The reader may not be displeased to have a specimen of the manner of rendering these distichs into French verse: 1. Dum tener es, MURETE, avidis hæc auribus hauri: Nec memori modò conde animo, sed et exprime factis. 2. Imprimis venerare Deum; venerare parentes: Et quos ipsa loco tibi dat natura parentum. &c. 1. _Jeune encore, ô mon fils! pour être homme de bien, Ecoute, et dans ton coeur grave cet entretien_. 2. _Sers, honors le Dieu qui créa tous les êtres; Sois fils respectueux, sois docile à tes maîtres. &c_. [161] [Smartly and felicitously rendered by my translator Mons. Licquet; "Jamais bouche Normande ne m'avait paru plus éloquente que celle de M. Adam." vol. ii. p. 220.] [162] The present seems to be the proper place to give the reader some account of this once famous Bacchanalian poet. It is not often that France rests her pretensions to poetical celebrity upon such claims. Love, romantic adventures, gaiety of heart and of disposition, form the chief materials of her minor poems; but we have here before us, in the person and productions of OLIVIER BASSELIN, a rival to ANACREON of old; to our own RICHARD BRAITHWAIT, VINCENT BOURNE, and THOMAS MOORE. As this volume may not be of general notoriety, the reader may be prepared to receive an account of its contents with the greater readiness and satisfaction. First, then, of the life and occupations of Olivier Basselin; which, as Goujet has entirely passed over all notice of him, we can gather only from the editors of the present edition of his works. Basselin appears to have been a _Virois_; in other words, an inhabitant of the town of Vire. But he had a strange propensity to rusticating, and preferred the immediate vicinity of Vire--its quiet little valleys, running streams, and rocky recesses--to a more open and more distant residence. In such places, therefore, he carried with him his flasks of cider and his flagons of wine. Thither he resorted with his "boon and merry companions," and there he poured forth his ardent and unpremeditated strains. These "strains" all savoured of the jovial propensities of their author; it being very rarely that tenderness of sentiment, whether connected with friendship or love, is admitted into his compositions. He was the thorough-bred Anacreon of France at the close of the fifteenth century. The town of Vire, as the reader may have already had intimation, is the chief town of that department of Normandy called the BOCAGE; and in this department few places have been, of old, more celebrated than the _Vaux de Vire_; on account of the number of manufactories which have existed there from time immemorial. It derives its name from two principal valleys, in the form of a T, of which the base (if it may be so called--"jambage") rests upon the _Place du Chateau de Vire_. It is sufficiently contiguous to the town to be considered among the fauxbourgs. The rivers _Vire_ and _Viréne_, which unite at the bridge of Vaux, run somewhat rapidly through the valleys. These rivers are flanked by manufactories of paper and cloth, which, from the XVth century, have been distinguished for their prosperous condition. Indeed, BASSELIN himself was a sort of cloth manufacturer. In this valley he passed his life in fulling his cloths, and "in composing those gay and delightful songs which are contained in the volume under consideration." _Discours Préliminaire_, p. 17, &c. Olivier Basselin is the parent of the title _Vaudevire--_which has since been corrupted into _Vaudeville_. From the observation of his critics, Basselin appears to have been the FATHER of BACCHANALIAN POETRY in France. He frequented public festivals, and was a welcome guest at the tables of the rich; where the Vaudevire was in such request, that it is supposed to have superseded the "Conte, or Fabliau, or the Chanson d'Amour."[B] p. xviij: Sur ce point-là, soyez tranquille: Nos neveux, j'én suis bien certain, Se souviendront de BASSELIN, _Pere joyeux du Vaudeville:_ p. xxiij. I proceed to submit a few specimens of the muse of this ancient ANACREON of France; and must necessarily begin with a few of those that are chiefly of a bacchanalian quality. _VAUDEVIRE II_. AYANT le doz au feu et le ventre à la table, Estant parmi les pots pleins de vin délectable, Ainsi comme ung poulet Je ne me laisseray morir de la pepie, Quant en debvroye avoir la face cramoisie Et le nez violet; QUANT mon nez devendra de couleur rouge ou perse, Porteray les couleurs que chérit ma maitresse. Le vin rent le teint beau. Vault-il pas mieulx avoir la couleur rouge et vive, Riche de beaulx rubis, que si pasle et chétive Ainsi qu'ung beuveur d'eau. _VAUDEVIRE XI_. CERTES _hoc vinum est bonus_: Du maulvais latin ne nous chaille, Se bien congru n'estoit ce jus, Le tout ne vauldroit rien que vaille. Escolier j'appris que bon vin Aide bien au maulvais latin. CESTE sentence praticquant, De latin je n'en appris guère; Y pensant estre assez sçavant, Puisque bon vin aimoye à boire. Lorsque maulvais vin on a beu, Latin n'est bon, fust-il congru. Fy du latin, parlons françois, Je m'y recongnois davantaige. Je vueil boire une bonne fois, Car voicy ung maistre breuvaige; Certes se j'en beuvoye soubvent, Je deviendroye fort éloquent. _VAUDEVIRE XXII_. HE! qu'avons-nous affaire Du Turc ny du Sophy, Don don. Pourveu que j'aye à boire, Des grandeurs je dis fy. Don don. Trincque, Seigneur, le vin est bon: _Hoc acuit ingenium._ QUI songe en vin ou vigne, Est ung présaige heureux, Don don. Le vin à qui réchigne Rent le coeur tout joyeux, Don don. Trincque, Seigneur, le vin est bon: _Hoc acuit ingenium_. &c. The poetry of Basselin is almost wholly devoted to the celebration of the physical effects of wine upon the body and animal spirits; and the gentler emotions of the TENDER PASSION are rarely described in his numbers. In consequence, he has not invoked the Goddess of Beauty to associate with the God of Wine: to "Drop from her myrtle one leaf in his bowl;" or, when he does venture to introduce the society of a female, it is done after the following fashion--which discovers however an extreme facility and melody of rhythm. The burden of the song seems wonderfully accordant with a Bacchanalian note. _VAUDEVIRE XIX_. En ung jardin d'ombraige tout couvert, Au chaud du jour, ay treuvé Madalaine, Qui près le pié d'ung sicomorre vert Dormoit au bort d'une claire fontaine; Son lit estoit de thin et marjolaine. Son tetin frais n'estoit pas bien caché: D'amour touché, Pour contempler sa beauté souveraine Incontinent je m'en suys approché. Sus, sus, qu'on se resveille, Voicy vin excellent Qui faict lever l'oreille; Il faict mol qui n'en prent. Je n'eus pouvoir, si belle la voyant, De m'abstenir de baizotter sa bouche; Si bien qu'enfin la belle s'esveillant, Me regardant avec ung oeil farouche, Me dit ces mots: Biberon, ne me touche. Belle fillette à son aize ne couche Avecq celuy qui ne faict qu'yvrongner, &c. &c. The preceding extracts will suffice. This is a volume in every respect interesting--both to the literary antiquary and to the Book-Collector. A NEW EDITION of this work has appeared under the editorial care of M. Louis Dubois, published at Caen in 1821, 8vo. obtainable at a very moderate price. [B] The host, at these public and private festivals, usually called upon some one to recite or sing a song, chiefly of an amatory or chivalrous character; and this custom prevailed more particularly in Normandy than in other parts of France: Usaige est en Normandie, Que qui hebergiez est qu'il die Fable ou Chanson à son oste. See the authorities cited at page XV, of this Discours préliminaire. [163] Some account of this printer, together with a fac-simile of his device, may be seen in the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. ii. p. 33-6. [164] The first publication is entitled "_Essai sur l'Histoire de l'Industrie du Bocage en Général et de la Ville de Vire sa capitale en particulier, &c._" Par M. RICHARD SEGUIN. _A Vire, chez Adam, Imprimeur, an_ 1810, 12mo. It is not improbable that I may have been the only importer of this useful and crowdedly-paged duodecimo volume; which presents us with so varied and animated a picture of the manners, customs, trades, and occupations of the Bocains and the Virois. [165] I subjoin an extract which relates to the DRESS AND CHARACTER OF THE WOMEN. "Quant au COSTUME DES FEMMES d'aujourd'hui, comme il faudrait un volume entier pour le décrire, je n'ai pas le courage de m'engager dans ce labyrinte de ridicules et de frivolités. Ce que j'en dirai seulement en général, c'est qu'autant les femmes du temps passé, etaient décentes et chastes, et se faisaient gloire d'être graves et modestes, autant celles de notre siècle mettent tout en oeuvre pour paraître cyniques et voluptueuses. Nous ne sommes plus au temps où les plus grandes dames se faisaient honneur de porter la cordélière.[C] Leurs habillemens étaient aussi larges et fermés, que celui des femmes de nos jours sont ouverts et légers, et d'une finesse que les formes du corps, au moindre mouvement, se dessinent, de manière à ne laisser rien ignorer. A peine se couvrent-elles le sein d'un voile transparent très-léger ou de je ne sais quelle palatine qu'elles nomment point-à-jour, qui, en couvrant tout, ne cache rien; en sorte que si elles n'étalent pas tous leurs charmes à découvert, c'est que les hommes les moins scrupuleux, qui se contentent de les persifler, en seraient révoltés tout-à-fait. D'ailleurs, c'est que ce n'est pas encore la mode; plusieurs poussent même l'impudence jusqu'à venir dans nos temples sans coiffure, les cheveux hérissés comme des furies; d'autres, par une bizarrerie qu'on ne peut expliquer se dépouillent, autant qu'il est en leur pouvoir, des marques de leur propre sexe, sembleut rougir d'être femmes, et deviennent ridicules en voulant paraitre demi-hommes. "Après avoir deshonoré l'habit des femmes, elles ont encore voulu prostituer CELUI DES HOMMES. On les a vues adopter successivement les chapeaux, les redingotes, les vestes, les gilets, les bottes et jusqu'aux boutons. Enfin si, au lieu de jupons, elles avaient pu s'accommoder de l'usage de la culotte, la métamorphose était complette; mais elles ont préféré les robes traînantes; c'est dommage que la nature ne leur ait donné une troisième main, qui leur serait nécessaire pour tenir cette longue queue, qui souvent patrouille la boue ou balaye la poussière. Plût à Dieu que les anciennes lois fussent encore en vigueur, ou ceux et celles qui portaient des habits indécent étaient obligés d'aller à Rome pour en obtenir l'absolution, qui ne pouvait leur être accordée que par le souverain pontife, &c. "Les femmes du Bocage, et sur-tout les Viroises, joignent à un esprit vif et enjoué les qualités du corps les plus estimables. Blondes et brunes pour le plus grand nombre, elles sont de la moyenne taille, mais bien formées: elles ont le teint frais et fleuri, l'oeil vif, le visage vermeil, la démarche leste, un air étoffé et très élégantes dans tout leur maintien. Si on dit avec raison que les Bayeusines sont belles, les filles du Bocage, qui sont leurs voisines, ne leur cèdent en aucune manière, car en général le sang est très-beau en ce pays. Quant aux talens spirituels, elles les possèdent à un dégré éminent. Elles parlent avec aisance, ont le repartie prompte, et outre les soins du ménage, ou elles excellent de telle sorte qu'il n'y a point de contrées ou il y ait plus de linge, elles entendent à merveille, et font avec succès tout le détail du commerce." p. 238. These passages, notwithstanding the amende honorable of the concluding paragraph, raised a storm of indignation against the unsuspecting author! Nor can we be surprised at it. This publication is really filled with a great variety of curious historical detail--throughout which is interspersed much that relates to "romaunt lore" and romantic adventures. The civil wars between MONTGOMERY and MATIGNON form alone a very important and interesting portion of the volume; and it is evident that the author has exerted himself with equal energy and anxiety to do justice to both parties--except that occasionally he betrays his antipathies against the Hugonots.[D] I will quote the concluding passage of this work. There may be at least half a score readers who may think it something more than merely historically curious: "Je finirai donc ici mon Histoire. Je n'ai point parlé d'un grand nombre des faits d'armes et d'actions glorieuses, qui se sont passés dans la guerre de l'indépendance des Etats-Unis d'Amérique où beaucoup de Bocains ont eu part; mais mon principal dessein a été de traiter des guerres qui ont eu lieu dans le Bocage; ainsi je crois avoir atteint mon but, qui était d'écrire l'Histoire Militaire des Bocains par des faits et non par des phrases, je ne peux cependant omettre une circonstance glorieuse pour le Bocage; c'est la visite que le bon et infortuné Louis XVI. fit aux Bocains en 1786. Ce grand Monarque dont les vues étaient aussi sages que profondes, avait résolu de faire construire le beau Port de Cherbourg, ouvrage vraiment Royal, qui est une des plus nobles entreprises qui aient été faites depuis l'origine de la Monarchie. Les Bocains sentirent l'avantage d'un si grand bienfait. Le Roi venant visiter les travaux, fut accueilli avec un enthousiasme presqu'impossible à décrire, ainsi que les Princes qui l'accompagnaient. Sa marche rassemblait à un triomphe. Les peuples accouraient en foule du fond des campagnes, et bordaient la route, faisant retentir les airs de chants d'alégresse et des cris millions de fois répétés de Vive le Roi! Musique, Processions, Arcs de triomphe, Chemins jonchés de fleurs; tout fut prodigué. Les villes de Caen, de Bayeux, de Saint-Lo, de Carentan, de Valognes, se surpassérent dans cette occasion, pour prouver à S.M. leur amour et leur reconnaissance; mais rien ne fut plus brillant que l'entrée de ce grand Roi à Cherbourg. Un peuple immense, le clergé, toute la noblesse du pays, le son des cloches, le bruit du canon, les acclamations universelles prouvérent au Monarque mieux encore que la pompe toute Royale et les fêtes magnifiques que la ville ne cessa de lui donner tous les jours, que les coeurs de tous les Bocains étaient à lui." p. 428. [C] "Ceinture alors regardée comme le symbole de la continence. La reine de France en décorait les femmes titrées dont la conduite était irréprochable." _Hist. de la réun. de Bretagne a la France par l'abbé Irail_. [D] "Les soldats Huguenots commirent dans cette occasion, toutes sortes de cruautés, d'infamies et de sacrilèges, jusqu'à mêler les Saintes Hosties avec l'avoine qu'ils donnaient à leurs chevaux: mais Dieu permit qu'ils n'en voulurent pas manger." p. 369. LETTER XIX. DEPARTURE FROM VIRE. CONDÉ. PONT OUILLY. ARRIVAL AT FALAISE. HOTEL OF THE GRAND TURC. THE CASTLE OF FALAISE. BIBLIOMANIACAL INTERVIEW. _Falaise_. Here I am--or rather, here I have been--my most excellent friend, for the last four days--and from hence you will receive probably the last despatch from NORMANDY--- from the "land (as I told you in my first epistle) of "castles, churches, and ancient chivalry." An old, well-situated, respectably-inhabited, and even flourishing, town--the birth-place too of our renowned FIRST WILLIAM:--weather, the most serene and inviting--and hospitality, thoroughly hearty, and after the English fashion:--these have all conspired to put me in tolerably good spirits. My health, too, thank God, has been of late a little improved. You wish me to continue the thread of my narrative unbroken; and I take it up therefore from the preparation for my departure from Vire. I breakfasted, as I told you I was about to do, with my friend and guide Mons. de Larenaudiere; who had prepared quite a sumptuous repast for our participation. Coffee, eggs, sweetmeats, cakes, and all the comfortable paraphernalia of an inviting breakfast-table, convinced us that we were in well-furnished and respectable quarters. Madame did the honours of the meal in perfectly good taste; and one of the loveliest children I ever saw--a lad, of about five or six years of age--with a profusion of hair of the most delicate quality and colour, gave a sort of joyous character to our last meal at Vire. The worthy host told me to forget him, when I reached my own country;[166] and that, if ever business or pleasure brought me again into Normandy, to remember that the Maire de Tallevende-le-Petit would-be always happy to renew his assurances of hospitality. At the same time, he entreated me to pay attention to a list of English books which he put into my hands; and of which he stood considerably in need. We bade farewell in the true English fashion, by a hearty shake of the hands; and, mounting our voiture, gave the signal for departure. "Au plaisir de vous revoir!"--'till a turning of the carriage deprived us of the sight of each other. It is not easy--and I trust it is not natural--for me to forget the last forty-eight hours spent in the interesting town of VIRE! Our route to this place was equally grand and experimental; grand, as to the width of the road, and beauty of the surrounding country--but experimental, inasmuch as a part of the _route royale_ had been broken up, and rendered wholly impassable for carriages of any weight. Our own, of its kind, was sufficiently light; with a covering of close wicker-work, painted after the fashion of some of our bettermost tilted carts. One Norman horse, in full condition of flesh, with an equal portion of bone and muscle, was to convey us to this place, which cannot be less than twenty-two good long English miles from Vire. The carriage had no springs; and our seat was merely suspended by pieces of leather fastened at each end. At _Condé_, about one-third of the distance, we baited, to let both man and horse breathe over their dinners; while, strolling about that prettily situated little town, we mingled with the inhabitants, and contemplated the various faces (it being market-day) with no ordinary degree of gratification. Amidst the bustle and variety of the scene, our ears were greeted by the air of an itinerant ballad-singer: nor will you be displeased if I send you a copy of it:--since it is gratifying to find any thing like a return to the good old times of the sixteenth century. VIVE LE ROI, VIVE L'AMOUR. François Premier, nous dit l'histoire, Etoit la fleur des Chevaliers, Près d'Etampes aux champs de gloire Il recueillit myrtes et lauriers; Sa maîtresse toujours fidèle, Le payant d'un tendre retour, Lui chantant cette ritournelle; _Vive le Roi, vive l'Amour_. Henri, des princes le modèle, Ton souvenir est dans nos coeurs, Par la charmante Gabrielle Ton front fut couronné de fleurs; De la Ligue domptant la rage, Tu sus triompher tour-à-tour, Par la clémence et ton courage: _Vive le Roi, vive l'Amour_. Amant chéri de la Vallière, Des ennemis noble vainqueur, LOUIS savoit combattre et plaire, Guidé par l'Amour et l'honneur; A son retour de la Victoire, Entouré d'une aimable cour, Il entendoit ce cri de gloire: _Vive le Roi, vive l'Amour_. &c. There was a freshness of tint, and a comeliness of appearance, among the bourgeoises and common people, which were not to be eclipsed even by the belles of Coutances. Our garçon de poste and his able-bodied quadruped having each properly recruited themselves, we set forward--by preference--to walk up the very long and somewhat steep hill which rises on the other side of Conde towards _Pont Ouilly_--in the route hither. Perhaps this was the most considerable ascent we had mounted on foot, since we had left Rouen. The view from the summit richly repaid the toil of using our legs. It was extensive, fruitful, and variegated; but neither rock nor mountain scenery; nor castles, nor country seats; nor cattle, nor the passing traveller--served to mark or to animate it. It was still, pure nature, upon a vast and rich scale: and as the day was fine, and my spirits good, I was resolved to view and to admire. _Pont Ouilly_ lies in a hollow; with a pretty winding river, which seems to run through its centre. The surrounding hills are gently undulating; and as we descended to the Inn, we observed, over the opposite side of the town, upon the summit of one of the hills, a long procession of men and women--headed by an ecclesiastic, elevating a cross--who were about to celebrate, at some little distance, one of their annual festivals. The effect--as the procession came in contact with a bright blue sky, softened by distance--was uncommonly picturesque ... but the day was getting on fast, and there was yet a considerable distance to perform,--while, in addition, we had to encounter the most impassable part of the road. Besides, I had not yet eaten a morsel since I had left Vire. Upon holding a consultation, therefore, it was resolved to make for the inn, and to dine there. A more sheltered, rural, spot cannot be conceived. It resembled very many of the snug scenes in South Wales. Indeed the whole country was of a character similar to many parts of Monmouthshire; although with a miserable draw-back in respect to the important feature of _wood_. Through the whole of Normandy, you miss those grand and overshadowing masses of oak, which give to Monmouthshire, and its neighbouring county of Glocester, that rich and majestic appearance which so decidedly marks the character of those counties. However, we are now at the inn at Pont Ouilly. A dish of river fish, gudgeons, dace, and perch, was speedily put in requisition. Good wine, "than which France could boast no better!" and a roast fowl, which the daughter of the hostess "knew how to dress to admiration" ... was all that this humble abode could afford us." "But we were welcome:"--that is, upon condition that we paid our reckoning.... The dinner would be ready in a "short half hour." Mr. Lewis, went to the bridge, to look around, for the purpose of exercising his pencil: while I sauntered more immediately about the house. Within five minutes a well-looking, and even handsome, young woman--of an extremely fair complexion--her hair cut close behind--her face almost smothered in a white cap which seemed of crape--and habited in a deep black--passed quickly by me, and ascended a flight of steps, leading to the door of a very humble mansion. She smiled graciously at the _aubergiste_ as she passed her, and quickly disappeared. On enquiry, I was told that she was a nun, who, since the suppression of the convent to which she had belonged, earned her livelihood by teaching some of the more respectable children in the village. She had just completed her twentieth year. I was now addressed by a tall, bluff, shabby-looking man--who soon led me to understand that he was master of the inn where my "suite" was putting up;--that I had been egregiously deceived about the nature of the road--for that it was totally impossible for _one_ horse:--even the very best in Normandy--(and where will you find better? added he, parenthetically--as I here give it to you) to perform the journey with such a voiture and such a weight of luggage behind." I was struck equally with amazement and woe at this intelligence. The unpitying landlord saw my consternation. "Hark you, sir... (rejoined he) if you _must_ reach Falaise this evening, there is only one method of doing it. You must have _another horse_." "Willingly," I replied. "Yes, sir--but you can have it only upon _one_ condition." "What is that?" "I have some little business at Falaise myself. Allow me to strap about one hundred weight of loaf-sugar at the back of your conveyance, and I myself will be your garçon de poste thither." I own I thought him about the most impudent fellow I had yet seen in Normandy: but there was no time for resistance. Necessity compelled acquiescence. Accordingly, the dinner being dispatched--which, though good, was charged at six francs a-head--we prepared for our departure. But judge of my surprise and increased consternation, when the fellow ordered forth a little runt of a quadruped--in the shape of a horse--which was hardly higher than the lower part of the chest of the animal which brought us from Vire! I remonstrated. The landlord expostulated. I resisted--but the fellow said it was a bargain; and proceeded quietly to deposit at least _two_ hundred weight of his refined sugar at the back of the carriage. This Lilliputian horse was made the leader. The landlord mounted on the front seat, with our Vire post-boy by the side of him; and sounding his whip, with a most ear-piercing whoop and hollow, we sprung forward for Falaise--which we were told we should reach before sunset. You can hardly conceive the miseries of this cross-road journey. The route royale was, in fact, completely impassable; because they were repairing it. Alarmed at the ruggedness of the cross-road, where one wheel was in a rut of upwards of a foot deep, and the other elevated in proportion--we got out, and resolved to push on a-foot. We walked for nearly two leagues, before our conveyance overtook us--so harassing and so apparently insurmountable seemed to be the road. But the cunning aubergiste had now got rid of his leader. He said that it was only necessary to use it for the first two or three leagues--which was the most difficult part of the route--and that, for the remainder, about five English miles, our "fine Norman horse" was perfectly sufficient. This fine Norman horse was treated most unmercifully by him. He flogged, he hallooed, he swore ... the animal tript, stumbled, and fell upon his knees--more than once--from sheer fatigue. The charioteer hallooed and flogged again: and I thought we must have taken up our night quarters in the high-way;--when suddenly, to the left, I saw the fine warm glow of the sun, which had set about twenty minutes, lighting up one of the most perfect round towers, of an old castle, that I had yet seen in Normandy. Voilà FALAISE!--exclaimed the ruthless charioteer; ... and in a quarter of an hour we trotted hard down a hill (after the horse had been twice again upon his knees) which terminated in this most interesting place. It will be difficult for me to forget--after such a long, wearisome, and in part desperate journey--our approach to Falaise:--and more especially the appearance of the castle just mentioned. The stone seemed as fresh, and as perfectly cemented, as if it had been the work of the preceding year. Moreover, the contiguous parts were so fine and so thoroughly picturesque--and the superadded tradition of its being, according to some, the birth place--and according to others, the usual residence--of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR ... altogether threw a charm about the first glimpse of this venerable pile, which cannot be easily described. I had received instructions to put up at the "_Grand Turc_"--as the only hotel worthy an Englishman's notice. At the door of the Grand Turk, therefore, we were safely deposited: after having got rid of our incumbrances of two postilions, and two hundred weight of refined sugar. Our reception was gracious in the extreme. The inn appeared "tout-à-fait à la mode Anglaise"--and no marvel ... for Madame the hostess was an Englishwoman. Her husband's name was _David_. Bespeaking a late cup of tea, I strolled through the principal streets,--delighted with the remarkably clear current of the water, which ran on each side from the numerous overcharged fountains. Day-light had wholly declined; when, sitting down to my souchong, I saw, with astonishment--a _pair of sugar-tongs_ and a _salt-spoon_--the first of the kind I had beheld since I left England! Madame David enjoyed my surprise; adding, in a very droll phraseology, that she had "not forgotten good English customs." Our beds and bed rooms were perfectly comfortable, and even elegant. The moat which encircles, not only the castle, but the town--and which must have been once formidable from its depth and breadth, when filled with water--is now most pleasingly metamorphosed. Pasture lands, kitchen gardens, and orchards, occupy it entirely. Here the cattle quietly stray, and luxuriously feed. But the metamorphosis of the _castle_ has been, in an equal degree, unfortunate. The cannon balls, during the wars of the League--and the fury of the populace, with the cupidity or caprice of some individuals, during the late revolution--helped to produce this change. After breakfast, I felt a strong desire to survey carefully the scite and structure of the castle. It was a lovely day; and in five minutes I obtained admission at a temporary outer gate. The first near view within the ramparts perfectly enchanted me. The situation is at once bold, commanding, and picturesque. But as the opposite, and immediately contiguous ground, is perhaps yet a little higher, it should follow that a force, placed upon such eminence--as indeed was that of Henry the Fourth, during the wars of the League--would in the end subdue the garrison, or demolish the castle. I walked here and there amidst briars and brushwood, diversified with lilacs and laburnums; and by the aid of the guide soon got within an old room--of which the outer walls only remained--and which is distinguished by being called the _birth-place_ of WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. Between ourselves, the castle appears to be at least a century later than the time of William the Conqueror; and certainly the fine round tower, of which such frequent mention has been made, is rather of the fourteenth, if not of the beginning of the fifteenth century;[167] but it is a noble piece of masonry. The stone is of a close grain and beautiful colour, and the component parts are put together with a hard cement, and with the smallest possible interstices. At the top of it, on the left side, facing the high road from Vire,--and constructed within the very walls themselves, is a _well_--which goes from the top apparently to the very bottom of the foundation, quite to the bed of the moat. It is about three feet in diameter, measuring with the eye; perhaps four: but it is doubtless a very curious piece of workmanship. We viewed with an inquisitive eye what remained of the _Donjon_: sighed, as we surveyed the ruins of the _chapel_--a very interesting little piece of ecclesiastical antiquity: and shuddered as we contemplated the enormous and ponderous portcullis--which had a _drop of_ full twenty feet ... to keep out the invading foe. I was in truth delighted with this first reconnoissance of FALAISE--beneath one of the brightest and bluest skies of Normandy! and--within walls, which were justly considered to be among the most perfect as well as the most ancient of those in Normandy. Leaving my companion to take a view of the upper part of this venerable building, I retreated towards the town--resolved to leave no church and no street unexplored. On descending, and quitting the gate by which I had entered, a fine, robust, and respectable figure, habited as an Ecclesiastic, met and accosted me. I was most prompt to return the salutation. "We are proud, Sir, of our castle, and I observe you have been visiting it. The English ought to take an interest in it, since it was the birth-place of William the Conqueror." I readily admitted it was well worth a minute examination: but as readily turned the conversation to the subject of LIBRARIES. The amiable stranger (for he was gaining upon me fast, by his unaffected manners and sensible remarks) answered, that "their _own_ public library existed no longer--having been made subservient to the inquisitorial visit of M. Moysant of Caen[168]: that he had himself procured for the Bishop of Bayeux the _Mentz Bible_ of 1462--and that the Chapter-Library of Bayeux, before the Revolution, could not have contained fewer than 40,000 volumes. "But you are doubtless acquainted, Sir, with the COMTE DE LA FRESNAYE, who resides in yonder large mansion?"--pointing to a house upon an elevated spot on the other side of the town. I replied that I had not that honour; and was indeed an utter stranger to every inhabitant of Falaise. I then stated, in as few and precise words as possible, the particular object of my visit to the Continent. "Cela suffit"--resumed the unknown--"nous irons faire visite à Monsieur le Comte après le diné; à ce moment il s'occupe avec le pôtage--car c'est un jour maigre. Il sera charmé de vous recevoir. Il aime infiniment les Anglois, et il a resté long-temps chez vous. C'est un brave homme--et même un grand antiquaire." My pulse and colour increased sensibly as the stranger uttered these latter words: and he concluded by telling me that he was himself the Curé of _Ste. Trinité_ one of the two principal churches of the town--and that his name was MOUTON. Be assured that I shall not lose sight of the Comte de la Fresnaye, and Monsieur Mouton. [166] [Only ONE letter has passed between us since my departure; and that enables me to subjoin a fac-simile of its author's autograph. [Autograph: de Larenaudiere] [167] [It was in fact built by the famous Lord Talbot, about the year 1420. A similar castle, but less strong and lofty, may be seen at Castor, near Yarmouth in Norfolk--once the seat of the famous Sir JOHN FASTOLF, (a contemporary with Talbot) of whom Anstis treats so fully in his _Order of the Garter_, vol.i. p.142.] [168] See p. 205 ante. LETTER XX. MONS. MOUTON. CHURCH OF STE. TRINITÉ. COMTE DE LA FRESNAYE. GUIBRAY CHURCH. SUPPOSED HEAD OF WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR. M. LANGEVIN, HISTORIAN OF FALAISE. PRINTING OFFICES. I lose no time in the fulfilment of my promise. The church of SAINTE TRINITÉ, of which Monsieur Mouton is the Curé, is the second place of worship in rank in the town. During the Revolution, Mons. Mouton was compelled, with too many of his professional brethren, to fly from the general persecution of his order. One solitary and most amiable creature only remained; of the name of LANGEVIN--of whom, by and by, Monsieur Mouton did me the honour of shewing me the interior of his church. His stipend (as he told me) did not exceed 1500 francs per annum; and it is really surprising to observe to what apparent acts of generosity towards his flock, this income is made subservient. You shall hear. The altar consists of two angels of the size of life, kneeling very gracefully, in white glazed plaister: in the centre, somewhat raised above, is a figure of the Virgin, of the same materials; above which again, is a representation of the TRINITY--in a blaze of gilt. The massive circular columns surrounding the choir--probably of the fourteenth century--were just fresh painted, at the expense of the worthy Curé, in alternate colours of blue and yellow--imitative of marble;--that is to say, each column, alternately, was blue and yellow. It was impossible to behold any thing more glaring and more tasteless. I paid my little tribute of admiration at the simplicity and grace of the kneeling figure of the Virgin--but was stubbornly silent about every thing else. Monsieur Mouton replied that "he intended to grace the brows of the angels by putting a _garland_ round each." I felt a sort of twinge upon receiving this intelligence; but there is no persuading the French to reject, or to qualify, their excessive fondness for flower ornaments. Projecting from the wall, behind the circular part of the choir, I observed a figure of _St. Sebastian_--precisely of that character which we remark in the printed missals of the fifteenth century,--and from which the engravers of that period copied them: namely, with the head large, the body meagre, and the limbs loose and muscular. It was plentifully covered, as was the whole surface of the wall, with recent white wash. On observing this, my guide added: "oui, et je veux le faire couvrir d'une teinte encore plus blanche!" Here I felt a second twinge yet more powerful than the first. I noticed, towards the south-side door, a very fine crucifix, cut in wood, about three feet high; and apparently of the time of Goujon. It was by much the finest piece of sculpture, of its kind, which I had seen in Normandy; but it was rather in a decaying state. I wished to know whether such an object of art--apparently of no earthly importance, where it was situated--might be obtained for some honourable and adequate compensation. Monsieur Mouton replied that he desired to part with it--but that it must be replaced by another "full six feet high!" There was no meeting this proposition, and I ceased to say another word upon the subject. Upon the whole, the church of the Holy Trinity is rather a fine and capacious, than a venerable edifice; and although I cannot conscientiously approve of the beautifying and repairing which are going on therein, yet I will do the _planner_ the justice to say, that a more gentlemanly, liberally-minded, and truly amiable clergyman is perhaps no where to be found,--within or without the diocese to which he belongs. Attached to the north transept or side door, parallel with the street, is a long pole. "What might this mean?" "Sir, this pole was crowned at the top by a garland, and by the white flag of _St. Louis_,[169]--which were hoisted to receive me on my return from my long expatriation"--and the eyes of the narrator were suffused with tears, as he made the answer! It is of no consequence how small the income of an unmarried minister, may be, when he thus lives so entirely in the HEARTS OF HIS FLOCK. This church bears abundant evidence, within and without, of what is called the restoration of the Gothic order during the reign of Francis I.: although the most essential and the greater portion is evidently of the latter part of the fourteenth century.[170] Having expressed my admiration of the manufacture of wax candles (for religious purposes) which I had frequently observed in the town, Monsieur Mouton, upon taking me into the sacristy (similar to our vestry-room) begged I would do him the honour to accept of any which might be lying upon the table. These candles are made of the purest white wax: of a spiral, or twisted, or square, or circular form; of considerable length and width. They are also decorated with fillagree work, and tinsel of various colours. Upon that which I chose, there were little rosettes made of wax. The moderate sum for which they are obtained, startles an Englishman who thinks of the high price of this article of trade in his own country. You see frequently, against the walls and pillars of the choir, fragments of these larger wax candles, guttering down and begrimed from the uses made of them in time of worship. In this sacristy there were two little boys swinging _wooden_ censers, by way of practice for the more perfect use of them, when charged with frankincense, at the altar. To manage these adroitly--as the traveller is in the constant habit of observing during divine worship--is a matter of no very quick or easy attainment. From the Curé we proceed to the Comte DE LA FRESNAYE; whose pleasantly situated mansion had been pointed out to me, as you may remember, by the former. Passing over one of the bridges, leading towards _Guibray_, and ascending a gentle eminence to the left, I approached the outer lodge of this large and respectable-looking mansion. The Count and family were at dinner: but at _three_ they would rise from table. "Meanwhile," said the porter, it might give me pleasure to walk in the garden." It was one of the loveliest days imaginable. Such a sky--blue, bright, and cloudless--I had scarcely before seen. The garden was almost suffocated with lilacs and laburnums, glittering in their respective liveries of white, purple, and yellow. I stepped into a berceau--and sitting upon a bench, bethought me of the strange visit I was about to make--as well as of all the pleasing pastoral poetry and painting which I had read in the pages of De Lille, or viewed upon the canvas of Watteau. The clock of the church of _St. Gervais_ struck three; when, starting from my reverie, I knocked at the hall-door, and was announced to the family, (who had just risen from dinner) above stairs. A circle of five gentlemen would have alarmed a very nervous visitor; but the Count, addressing me in a semi-British and semi-Gallic phraseology, immediately dissipated my fears. In five minutes he was made acquainted with the cause of this apparent intrusion. Nothing could exceed his amiable frankness. The very choicest wine was circulated at his table; of which I partook in a more decided manner on the following day--when he was so good as to invite me to dine. When I touched upon his favourite theme of Norman Antiquities, he almost shouted aloud the name of INGULPH,--that "cher ami de Guillaume le Conquérant!" I was unwilling to trespass long; but I soon found the advantage of making use of the name of "Monsieur Mouton--l'estimable Curé de la Sainte Trinité." [Illustration] In a stroll to Guibray, towards sunset the next day, I passed through a considerable portion of the Count's property, about 300 acres, chiefly of pasture land. The evening was really enchanting; and through the branches of the coppice wood the sun seemed to be setting in a bed of molten gold. Our conversation was animated and incessant. In the old and curious church of Guibray, the Count shewed us his family pew with the care and particularity of an old country squire. Meanwhile Mr. Lewis was making a hasty copy of one of the very singular ornaments--representing _Christ bearing his cross_--which was suspended against the walls of the altar of a side chapel. You have it here. It is frightfully barbarous, and characteristic of the capricious style of art which frequently prevailed about the year 1520: but the wonder is, how such a wretched performance could obtain admission into the sanctuary where it was deposited. It was however the pious gift of the vestry woman--who shewed us the interior--and who had religiously rescued it, during the Revolution, from the demolition of a neighbouring abbey. The eastern end of this church is perhaps as old as any ecclesiastical edifice in Normandy;[171] and its exterior (to which we could only approach by wading through rank grass as high as our knees) is one of the most interesting of its kind. During our admiration of all that was curious in this venerable edifice, we were struck by our old friends, the _penitents_,--busy in making confession. In more than one confessional there were two penitents; and towards one of these, thus doubly attended, I saw a very large, athletic, hard-visaged priest hastening, just having slipt on his surplice in the vestry. Indeed I had been cursorily introduced to him by the Count. It was Saturday evening, and the ensuing Sunday was to be marked by some grand procession. The village-like town of Guibray presents a most singular sight to the eye of a stranger. There are numerous little narrow streets, with every window closed by wooden shutters, and every door fastened. It appears as if the plague had recently raged there, and that the inhabitants had quitted it for ever. Not a creature is visible: not a sound is heard: not a mouse seems to be stirring. And yet Guibray boasts of the LARGEST FAIR in France, save one![172] This, my friend, precisely accounts for the aspect of desolation just described. During the intervals of these _triennial_ fairs, the greater part of the village is uninhabited: venders and purchasers flocking and crowding by hundreds when they take place. In a short, narrow street--where nothing animated was to be seen--the Count assured me that sometimes, in the course of one morning, several millions of francs were spent in the purchase of different wares. We left this very strange place with our minds occupied by a variety of reflections: but at any rate highly pleased and gratified by the agreeable family which had performed the part of guides on the occasion. In the evening, a professor of music treated us with some pleasing tunes upon the guitar--which utterly astonished the Count--and it was quite night-fall when we returned homewards, towards our quarters at the hotel of the _Grand Turc_. A memorable incident occurred in our way homewards; which, when made known, will probably agitate the minds and shake the faith of two-thirds of the members of our Society of Antiquaries. You may remember that I told you, when at Caen, that the Abbe De la Rue had notified to me what were the objects more particularly deserving of attention in my further progress through Normandy. Among these, he particularly mentioned a figure or head of William the Conqueror at Falaise. In the _Place St. Gervais_, this wonderful head was said to exist--and to exist there only. It was at the house of an Innkeeper--certainly not moving in the highest circle of his calling. I lost little time in visiting it; and found it situated at the top of a dark narrow staircase, projecting from the wall, to the right, just before you reach the first floor. Some sensation had been excited by the enquiries, which I had previously set on foot; and on a second visit, several people were collected to receive us. Lights, warm water, towels, soap and brushes, were quickly put in requisition. I commenced operations with a kitchen knife, by carefully scraping away all the layers of hardened white and ochre washes, with which each generation had embedded and almost obliterated every feature. By degrees, the hair became manifest: then followed the operation of soap and water--which brought out the features of the face; and when the eyes fully and distinctly appeared, the exclamation of "_Mon Dieu_!" by the spectators, was loud and unremitting. The nose had received a serious injury by having its end broken off. Anon, stood forth the mouth; and when the "whiskered majesty" of the beard became evident, it was quite impossible to repress the simultaneous ejaculation of joy and astonishment ... "_Voilà le vrai portrait de Guillaume le Conquérant_! The whiskers apparently denote it to be rather _Saxon_ than _Norman_. The head is nearly eleven inches in length, by seven and a half in width: is cut upon a very coarse, yet hard-grained stone--and rests upon a square, unconnected stone:--embedded within the wall. If it ever had shoulders and body, those shoulders and body were no part of the present appendages of the head. What then, is the Abbé de la Rue in error? The more liberal inference will be, that the Abbé de la Rue had never seen it. As to its antiquity, I am prepared to admit it to be very considerable; and, if you please, even before the period of the loves of the father and mother of the character whom it is supposed to represent. In the morning, Madame Rolle seemed disposed to take ten louis (which I freely offered her) for her precious fragment: but the distinct, collected view of whiskers, mouth, nose, eyes, and hair, instantaneously raised the quicksilver of her expectations to "_quinze_ louis pour le moins!" That was infinitely "trop fort"--and we parted without coming to any terms. Perhaps you will laugh at me for the previous offer. The church of St. Gervais is called the mother church of the town: and it is right that you should have some notion of it. It stands upon a finely elevated situation. Its interior is rather capacious: but it has no very grand effect-arising from simplicity or breadth of architecture. The pillars to the right of the nave, on entering from the western extremity, are doubtless old; perhaps of the beginning of the thirteenth century. The arches are a flattened semicircle; while those on the opposite side are comparatively sharp, and of a considerably later period. The ornaments of the capitals of these older pillars are, some of them, sufficiently capricious and elaborate; while others are of a more exceptionable character on the score of indelicacy. But this does not surprise a man who has been accustomed to examine ART, of the middle centuries, whether in sculpture or in painting. The side aisles are comparatively modern. The pillars of the choir have scarcely any capitals beyond a simple rim or fillet; and are surmounted by sharp low arches, like what are to be seen at St. Lo and Coutances. The roof of the left side aisle is perfectly green from damp: the result, as at Coutances, of thereof having been stripped for the sake of the lead to make bullets, &c. during the Revolution. I saw this large church completely filled on Sunday, at morning service--about eleven: and, in the congregation, I observed several faces and figures, of both sexes, which indicated great intelligence and respectability. Indeed there was much of the air of a London congregation about the whole. From the Church, we may fairly make any thing but a digression--in discoursing of one of its brightest ornaments, in the person of Monsieur LANGEVIN:--a simple priest--as he styles himself in an octavo volume, which entitles him to the character of the best living HISTORIAN OF FALAISE. He is a mere officiating minister in the church of Mons. Mouton; and his salary, as he led me to infer, could be scarcely twenty louis per annum. Surely this man is among the most amiable and excellent of God's creatures! But it is right that you should know the origin and progress of our acquaintance. It was after dinner, on one of the most industriously spent of my days here--and the very second of my arrival,--that the waiter announced the arrival of the Abbé Langevin, in the passage, with a copy of his History beneath his arm. The door opened, and in walked the stranger--habited in his clerical garb--with a physiognomy so benign and expressive, and with manners so gentle and well-bred,--that I rose instinctively from my seat to give him the most cordial reception. He returned my civility in a way which shewed at once that he was a man of the most interesting simplicity of character. "He was aware (he said) that he had intruded; but as he understood "Monsieur was in pursuit of the antiquities of the place, he had presumed to offer for his acceptance a copy of a work upon that subject--of which he was the humble author." This work was a good sized thick crown octavo, filling five hundred closely and well-printed pages; and of which the price was _fifty sous_! The worthy priest, seeing my surprise on his mentioning the price, supposed that I had considered it as rather extravagant. But this error was rectified in an instant. I ordered _three copies_ of his historical labours, and told him my conscience would not allow me to pay him less than _three francs_ per copy. He seemed to be electrified: rose from his seat:--and lifting up one of the most expressive of countenances, with eyes apparently suffused with tears--raised both his hands, and exclaimed.... "Que le bon Dieu vous bénisse--les Anglois sont vraiement généreux!" For several seconds I sat riveted to my seat. Such an unfeigned and warm acknowledgment of what I had considered as a mere matter-of-course proposition, perfectly astounded me: the more so, as it was accompanied by a gesture and articulation which could not fail to move any bosom--not absolutely composed of marble. We each rallied, and resumed the conversation. In few but simple words he told me his history. He had contrived to weather out the Revolution, at Falaise. His former preferment had been wholly taken from him; and he was now a simple assistant in the church of Mons. Mouton. He had yielded without resistance; as even _remonstrance_ would have been probably followed up by the guillotine. To solace himself in his afflictions, he had recourse to his old favourite studies of _medicine_ and _music_;--and had in fact practised the former. "But come, Sir, (says he) come and do me the honour of a call--when it shall suit you." I settled it for the ensuing day. On breaking up and taking leave, the amiable stranger modestly spoke of his History. It had cost him three years' toil; and he seemed to mention, with an air of triumph, the frequent references in it to the _Gallia Christiana_, and to _Chartularies_ and _Family Records_ never before examined. On the next day I carried my projected visit into execution--towards seven in the evening. The lodgings of M. Langevin are on the second floor of a house belonging to a carpenter. The worthy priest received me on the landing-place, in the most cheerful and chatty manner. He has three small rooms on the same floor. In the first, his library is deposited. On my asking him to let me see what _old books_ he possessed, he turned gaily round, and replied--"Comment donc, Monsieur, vous aimez les vieux livres? A ça, voyons!" Whereupon he pulled away certain strips or pieces of wainscot, and shewed me his book-treasures within the recesses. On my recognising a _Colinæus_ and _Henry Stephen_, ere he had read the title of the volumes, he seemed to marvel exceedingly, and to gaze at me as a conjuror. He betrayed more than ordinary satisfaction on shewing his _Latin Galen_ and _Hippocrates_; and the former, to the best of my recollection, contained Latin notes in the margin, written by himself. These tomes were followed up by a few upon _alchymy_ and _astrology_; from which, and the consequent conversation, I was led to infer that the amiable possessor entertained due respect for those studies which had ravished our DEES and ASHMOLES of old. In the second room stood an upright piano forte--the _manufacture_, as well as the property, of Monsieur Langevin. It bore the date of 1806; and was considered as the first of the kind introduced into Normandy. It was impossible not to be struck with the various rational sources of amusement, by means of which this estimable character had contrived to beguile the hours of his misfortunes. There was a calm, collected, serenity of manner about him--a most unfeigned and unqualified resignation to the divine will--which marked him as an object at once of admiration and esteem. There was no boast--no cant--no formal sermonising. You _saw_ what religion had done for him. Her effects _spake_ in his discourse and in his life.... Over his piano hung a portrait of himself; very indifferently executed--and not strongly resembling the original. "We can do something more faithful than this, sir, if you will allow it"--said I, pointing to Mr. Lewis: and it was agreed that he should give the latter a sitting on the morrow. The next day M. Langevin came punctually to his appointment, for the purpose of having his portrait taken. On telling this original that the pencil drawing of Mr. Lewis (which by the bye was executed in about an hour and a half) should be _engraved_--inasmuch as he was the modern _Historian of Falaise_--he seemed absolutely astonished. He moved a few paces gently forwards, and turning round, with hands and eyes elevated, exclaimed, in a tremulous and heart-stricken tone of voice, "Ah, mon Dieu!" I will not dissemble that I took leave of him with tears, which were with difficulty concealed. "Adieu, pour toujours!"--were words which he uttered with all the sincerity, and with yet more pathos, than was even shewn by Pierre Aimé Lair at Caen. The landlord and landlady of this hotel are warm in their commendations of him: assuring me that his name is hardly ever pronounced without the mention of his virtues. He has just entered his sixty-second year.[173] It remains only to give an account of the progress of Printing and of Literature in this place: although the latter ought to precede the former. As a literary man, our worthy acquaintance the Comte de la Fresnaye takes the lead: yet he is rather an amateur than a professed critic. He has written upon the antiquities of the town; but his work is justly considered inferior to that of Monsieur Langevin. He quotes _Wace_ frequently, and with apparent satisfaction; and he promises a French version of his beloved _Ingulph_. Falaise is a quiet, dull place of resort, for those who form their notions of retirement as connected with the occasional bustle and animation of Caen and Rouen. But the situation is pleasing. The skies are serene: the temperature is mild, and the fruits of the earth are abundant and nutritious. Many of the more respectable inhabitants expressed their surprise to me that there were so few English resident in its neighbourhood--so much preferable, on many accounts to that of Caen. But our countrymen, you know, are sometimes a little capricious in the objects of their choice. Just now, it is the _fashion_ for the English to reside at Caen; yet when you consider that the major part of our countrymen reside there for the purpose of educating their children--and that Caen, from its numerous seminaries of education, contains masters of every description, whose lessons are sometimes as low as a frank for each--it is not surprising that Falaise is deserted for the former place. For myself--and for all those who love a select society, a sweet country, and rather a plentiful sprinkle of antiquarian art,--for such, in short, who would read the fabliaux of the old Norman bards in peace, comfort, and silence--there can be no question about the preference to be given to the spot from which I send this my last Norman despatch. I have before made mention of the fountains in this place. They are equally numerous and clear. The inn in which we reside has not fewer than three fountains--or rather of _jets d'eau_--constantly playing. Those in the _Place St. Trinité Grand Rue_, and _Place St. Gervais_, are the largest; but every gutter trickles with water as if dissolved from the purest crystal. It has been hot weather during the greater part of our stay; and the very sight of these translucent streams seems to refresh one's languid frame. But I proceed chiefly to the productions of the PRESS. They do a good deal of business here in the way of ephemeral publications. Letellier, situated in the Grande Rue, is the chief printer of _chap books_: and if we judge from the general character of these, the _Falaisois_ seem to be marvellously addicted to the effusions of the muse. Indeed, their ballads, of all kinds, are innumerable. Read a few--which are to be found in the very commonest publications. There is something rather original, and of a very pleasingly tender cast, in the first two: LE BAISER D'ADIEUX. Pres de toi l'heuré du mystère Ne m'appellera plus demain, Vers ta demeure solitaire Mes pas me guideront en vain; J'ai respiré ta douce haleine, Et des pleurs ont mouillé mes yeux, J'ai tout senti, plaisir et peine, ) J'ai reçu ton baiser d'adieux. ) _bis._ Tu pars, et malgré ta promesse Rien ne m'assure de ta foi, Nul souvenir de ta tendresse Ne vient me dire: Pense à moi. Ton amour qu'envain je réclame Ne me laisse, en quittant ces lieux, Que Phumide et brulante flamme De ton dernier baiser d'adieux. Puisse au moins ton indifférence Te garder d'un nouvel amour. Et le veuvage de l'absence Hâter ton fortuné retour! Puisse alors l'amant qui t'adore, Te revoyant aux mêmes lieux, Sur tes lèvres vierges encore Retrouver son baiser d'adieux! * * * * * L'IMAGE DE LA VIE. Nous naissons et dans notre coeur, A peine aux portes de la vie, Tout au plaisir, tout au bonheur, Et nous invite et nous convie; D'abord, simples amusements Savent contenter notre enfance; Mais bientòt aux jeux innocens, L'amour nous prend ... sans qu'on y pense. Fillette à l'âge de quinze ans, Offre l'image de la rose, Qui dès l'approche du printemps, Entr'ouvre sa feuille mi-close; Bientôt l'aiguillon du désir Vient ouvrir fleur d'innocence, Et sous la bouche du plaisir, Elle s'éclôt ... sans qu'elle y pense. Vous, qui pendant vos jeunes ans, Ne courtisez pas la folie, Songez donc que cet heureux temps Ne dure pas toute la vie, Assez vite il nous faut quitter Tendres ardeurs, vives jouissances; Et dans uu coeur qui sait aimer, La raison vient ... sans qu'on y pense. Mais enfin, sur l'âile du temps, On arrive au but du voyage, Et l'on voit la glace des ans, Couronner nos fronts à cet âge; S'il fut sensible à la pitié, S'il cultiva la bienfaisance, Entre les bras de l'amitié L'homme finit ... sans qu'il y pense You must know that they are here great lovers of royalty, and of course great supporters of the Bourbon Family. The King's printer is a Mons. BRÉE l'Ainé. He is a very pleasant, well-bred man, and lives in the _Place Trinité_. I have paid him more than one visit, and always felt additional pleasure at every repetition of it. My first visit was marked with a somewhat ludicrous circumstance. On entering the compositors' room, I observed, pasted upon the walls, in large capital letters, the following well known words: GOD SAVE THE KING. Both Monsieur Brée l'Ainé--and his workmen were equally gratified by my notice and commendation of this sentiment. "It is the favourite sentiment, Sir, of your country,"--remarked the master. To this I readily assented. "It is also, Sir, the favourite one of our own," replied M. Brée l'Ainé--and his men readily attested their concurrence in the same reply. "Ah, Sir, if you would only favour us by _singing the air_, to which these words belong, you would infinitely oblige us all" ... said a shrewd and intelligent-looking compositor. "With all my heart"--rejoined I--"but I must frankly tell you, that I shall sing it rather with heart than with voice--being neither a vocal nor an instrumental performer." "No matter: give us only a notion of it." They all stood round in a circle, and I got through two stanzas as gravely and as efficiently as I was able. The usual "charmant!" followed my exertions. It was now my turn to ask a favour. "Sing to me your favourite national air of ROBERT and ARLETTE." "Most willingly, Sir," replied the forementioned "shrewd and intelligent-looking compositor." "Tenez: un petit moment: je vais chercher mon violon. Ca ira mieux." He left the house in search of his violin. The tune of the National air which he sung was both agreeable and lively: and upon the whole it was difficult to say which seemed to be the better pleased with the respective national airs. M. Brée shewed me his premises in detail. They had been formerly a portion of an old church; and are situated on the edge of the great fosse which encircles the town. A garden, full of sweet blooming flowers, is behind them; and the view backwards is cheerful and picturesque. There are generally five presses at work; which, for a provincial printing office, shews business to be far from slack. Mons. B. sells a great number of almanacks, and prints all the leading publications connected with the town. In fact, his title, as _Imprimeur du Roi_, supposes him to take the principal lead as a printer. This agreeable man has a brother who is professor of rhetoric in the Collège Royale at Paris. Of _Bouquinistes_, or dealers in old books, there are scarcely any. I spent three or four fruitless hours in a search after old chronicles and old poetry: and was compelled, almost from pure civility, to purchase of DUFOURS a _Petit's Virgil_ of 1529, folio--which will be hardly worth the carriage. I tried hard for a fine copy of _Fauchet's Origines de la Poésie Françoise_, 1581, 4to. with the head of the author, but in vain; yet endeavoured to console myself by an old blue morocco copy of _Les regrets et tristes lamentations du Comte de Montgomery_, by _Demorenne_, Rouen, 1574, 8vo. as well as a clean, fresh, and almost crackling copy of _Amoureuses occupations de la Taysonniere_, Lyon, 1555, 8vo.--for two francs each--and both destined for the rich and choice library of our friend.... Thus much for FALAISE: for a spot, which, from the uniform serenity of the weather since I have been here--from the comfort of the inn--from the extreme civility and attention of the townspeople--and from the yet more interesting society of the Comte de la Fresnaye, the _Curés_ Mouton and Langevin--together with the amenity of the surrounding country, and the interesting and in part magnificent remains of antiquity--can never be erased from my recollection. It is here that the tourist and antiquary may find objects for admiration and materials for recording. I have done both: admired and recorded--happy, if the result of such occupations shall have contributed to the substantial gratification of yourself and of our common friends. And now, farewell; not only to Falaise, but to NORMANDY. I shall leave it, from this delightful spot, in the most thorough good humour, and with more than ordinary regret that my stay has necessarily been short. I have taken my place in the Diligence, direct for PARIS. "Il n'y a qu'un Paris"--said the Comte de la Fresnaye to me the other day, when I told him I had never been there--to which I replied, "Are there then TWO Londons?" Thirty-six hours will settle all this. In the mean time, adieu. [169] On the return of Louis the XVIII. the town of Falaise manifested its loyalty in the most unequivocal manner. COUPLETS _Chantés par les Elèves du Collége de Falaise, en arborant le Drapeau Blanc_. Air: _Un Soldat par un coup funeste_. Loin de nous la sombre tristesse, Mars a déposé sa fureur; Enfin la foudre vengeresse Vient de terrasser _l'opresseur,_ L'aigle sanguinaire Succombe à l'aspect de ces LYS. Peuple français, tu vas revoir ton Père! Vive le Roi! Vive LOUIS! Drapeau, que d'horribles tempêtes Avoient éloigné de ces lieux, Tu reviens embellir nos Fêtes, Plus brillant et plus radieux! Ta douce présence Ramène les jeux et les ris; Sois à jamais l'Etendard de la France, Vive le Roi! vive LOUIS! O Dieu! vengeur de l'innocence, Protège ces LYS glorieux! Conserve long-temps à la France LE ROI que tu rends à nos voeux! Si la perfidie De nouveau troubloit ton bonheur Viens nous guider, ô Bannière chérie! Nous volerons au champ d'honneur. [170] The worthy historian of Falaise, quoted in a preceding page, is exceedingly anxious to make us believe that there are portions of this church--namely, four stones--in the eastern and western gable ends--which were used in the consecration of it, by MATHILDA, the wife of our first William. Also, that, at the gable end of the south transept, outside, an ancient grotto,--in which the Gallic priests of old purified themselves for the mysteries of their religion--is now converted into the sacristy, or vestry, or robing room. But these are surely mere antiquarian dreams. The same author more sagaciously informs us that the exact period of the commencement of the building of the nave, namely in 1438, is yet attested by an existing inscription, in gothic letters, towards the chief door of entrance. The inscription also testifies that in the same year, "there reigned DEATH, WAR, and FAMINE." The _chancel of the choir_, with the principal doors of entrance, &c. were constructed between the years 1520, and 1540. It may be worth remarking that the stalls of the choir were brought from the Abbey of St. John--on the destruction of that monastic establishment in 1729; and that, according to the _Gallia Christiana_, vol. xi. p. 756, these stalls were carved at the desire of Thomas II. de Mallebiche, abbot of that establishment in 1506-1516. In a double niche of the south buttress are the statues of HERPIN and his WIFE; rich citizens of Falaise, who, by their wealth, greatly contributed to the building of the choir. (Their grandson, HERPIN LACHENAYE, together with his mistress were killed, side by side, in fighting at one of the gates of Falaise to repel the successful troops of Henry IV.) The _Chapel of the Virgin_, behind the choir, was completed about the year 1631. LANGEVIN, p. 81-128-131. [171] We have of course nothing to do with the first erection of a place of worship at Guibray in the VIIIth century. The story connected with the earliest erection is this. The faubourg of Guibray, distant about 900 paces from Falaise, was formerly covered with chestnut and oak trees. A sheep, scratching the earth, as if by natural instinct (I quote the words of M. Langevin the historian of Falaise) indicated, by its bleatings, that something was beneath. The shepherd approached, and hollowing out the earth with his crook, discovered a statue of the Virgin, with a child in its arms. The first church, dedicated to the Virgin, under the reign of Charles Martel, called the Victorious, was in consequence erected--on this very spot--in the centre of this widely spreading wood of chestnut and oak. I hasten to the construction of a second church, on the same site, under the auspices of Mathilda, the wife of the Conqueror: with the statue of a woman with a diadem upon her head--near one of the pillars: upon which statue Langevin discourses learnedly in a note. But neither this church nor the statue in question are now in existence. On the contrary, the oldest portions of the church of Guibray, now existing--according to the authors of the _Gallia Christiana_, vol. xi. p. 878, and an ancient MS. consulted by M. Langevin--are of about the date of 1222; when the church was consecrated by the Bishop of Coutances. The open space towards the south, now called _La Place aux Chevaux_, was the old burying ground of the church. There was also a chapel, dedicated to St. Gervais, which was pillaged and destroyed by the Hugonots in 1562. I should add, that the South-East exterior (behind the chancel) of this very curious old church at Guibray, resembles, upon a small scale, what M. Cotman has published of the same portion of St. Georges de Bocherville. _Recherches sur Falaise_, p. 49-53. Monsieur le Comte de la Fresnaye, in his _Notice Historique sur Falaise_, 1816, 8vo. will have it, that "the porch of this church, the only unmutilated portion remaining of its ancient structure, demonstrates the epoch of the origin of Christianity among the Gauls." "At least, such is the decision of M. Deveze, draftsman for Laborde; the latter of whom now Secretary to the Count d'Artois, instituted a close examination of the whole fabric." p. 5-6. I hope there are not many such conclusions to be found in the magnificent and meritorious productions of LABORDE. [172] This fair lasts full fifteen days. The first eight days are devoted to business of a more important nature--which they call the GREAT WEEK: that is to say, the greatest number of merchants attend during the earlier part of it; and contracts of greater extent necessarily take place. The remaining seven days are called the LITTLE WEEK--in which they make arrangements to carry their previous bargains into effect, and to return home. Men and merchandise, from all quarters, and of all descriptions, are to be seen at this fair. Even Holland and Germany are not wanting in sending their commercial representatives. Jewellery and grocery seem to be the chief articles of commerce; but there is a prodigious display of silk, linen, and cotton, &c.: as well as of hides, raw and tanned; porcelaine and earthen ware. The live cattle market must not be forgotten. Langevin says that, of horses alone, they sometimes sell full four thousand. Thus much for the buyer and seller. But this fair is regularly enlivened by an immense confluence of nobility and gentry from the adjacent country--to partake of the amusements, which, (as with the English,) form the invariable appendages of the scene. Langevin mentions the minor fairs of _Ste. Croix, St. Michel_, and _St. Gervais_, which help to bring wealth into the pockets of the inhabitants. _Recherches Historiques sur Falaise_; p. 199, &c. [173] [Since the publication of this Tour, the amiable Mons. Langevin has published "additions" to his historical account of Falaise; and in those additions, he has been pleased to notice the account which is HERE given of his labours and character. It would be bad--at least hardly justifiable--taste, to quote that notice: yet I cannot dissemble the satisfaction to find that there is _more_ than ONE sympathising heart in Normandy, which appreciates this record of its excellence. I subjoin, therefore, with the greatest satisfaction, a fac-simile of the autograph of this amiable and learned man, as it appears written (at my request) in the title-page of a copy of his "Researches." [Illustration: Langevin ptre.] LETTER XXI. JOURNEY TO PARIS. DREUX. HOUDAN. VERSAILLES. ENTRANCE INTO PARIS. _Paris, Rue Faubourg Poissonière, May_ 30, 1819. "Time and the hour runs through the roughest day." They must be protacted miseries indeed which do not, at some period or other, have something like a termination. I am here, then my good friend--safe and sound at last; comfortably situated in a boarding house, of which the mistress is an agreeable Englishwoman and the master an intelligent Swiss. I have sauntered, gazed, and wondered--and exchanged a thousand gracious civilities! I have delivered my epistolary credentials: have shaken hands with Monsieur Van Praet; have paced the suite of rooms in which the renowned BIBLIOTHEQUE DU ROI is deposited: have traversed the _Thuileries_ and the _Louvre_; repeatedly reconnoitred the _Boulevards_; viewed the gilt dome of the _Hôtel des Invalides_, and the white flag upon the bronze-pillar in the _Place Vendome_; seen crowds of our countrymen at _Meurice's_ and in the hotels about the _Rue de la Paix;_ partaken of the rival ices of _Tortoni_ and the _Caffé des Mille Colonnes_; bought old French poetry at a Bouquiniste's: and drank Chambertin and Champagne at the richly garnished table of our ----. These are what may be called good _foreground objects_ in the composition of a Parisian picture. Now for the filling up of the canvas with appropriate and harmonizing detail. A second reflection corrects however the precipitancy of such a proposal; for it cannot be, in this my _first_ despatch, that you are to receive any thing like an adequate notion of the topics thus hastily thrown together on the first impulse of Parisian inspiration. Wait patiently, therefore: and at least admire the methodical precision of my narrative. My last letter left me on the eve of departure from Falaise; and it is precisely from that place that I take up the thread of my journal. We were to leave it, as I told you, in the Diligence--on the evening of the Sunday, immediately following the date of the despatch transmitted. I shall have reason to remember that journey for many a day to come; but, "post varios casus, &c." I am thankful to find myself safely settled in my present comfortable abode. The Sabbath, on the evening of which the Diligence usually starts for Paris, happened to be a festival. Before dawn of day I heard incessant juvenile voices beneath the window of my bedroom at the Grand Turc; What might this mean? Between three and four, as the day began to break, I rose, and approaching the window, saw, from thence, a number of little boys and girls busied in making artificial flower-beds and sand-borders, &c. Their tongues and their bodily movements were equally unintermitting. It was impossible for a stranger to guess at the meaning of such a proceeding; but, opening the window, I thought there could be no harm in asking a very simple question--which I will confess to you was put in rather an irritable manner on my part ... for I had been annoyed by their labours for more than the last hour. "What are you about, there?" I exclaimed--"Ha, is it you Sir?" replied a little arch boy--mistaking me for some one else. "Yes, (resumed I) tell me what you are about there?" "in truth, we are making _Réposoirs_ for the FETE-DIEU: the Host will pass this way by and bye. Is it not a pretty thing, Sir?" exclaimed a sweetly modulated female voice. All my irritability was softened in a moment; and I was instantly convinced that Solomon never delivered a wiser sentiment than when he said--"A soft answer turneth away wrath!" I admitted the prettiness of the thing without comprehending a particle of it: and telling them to speak in a lower key, shut the window, and sought my bed. But sleep had ceased to seek me: and the little urchins, instead of lowering their voices, seemed to break forth in a more general and incessant vociferation. In consequence, I was almost feverish from restlessness--when the fille de chambre announced that "it was eight o'clock, and the morning most beautiful." These _réposoirs_ are of more importance than you are aware of. They consist of little spots, or spaces in the streets, garnished with flowers, and intersected by walks, marked with fine gravel, in the centre of which the Host rests, on its passing to and fro from the several parishes. When I rose to dress, I observed the work of art--which had been in progress during the night--perfectly complete. Passengers were forbidden to trespass by pieces of string fastened to different parts by way of a fence--or, whoever chose to walk within, considered themselves bound to deposit a sous as the condition of gratifying their curiosity. Upon the whole, this réposoir might be about sixteen feet square. Towards eleven o'clock the different religious ceremonies began. On one side the noise of the drum, and the march of the national guard, indicated that military mass was about to be performed; on the other, the procession of priests, robed and officiating--the elevation of banners--and the sonorous responses of both laity and clergy--put the whole town into agitation, and made every inmate of every mansion thrust his head out of window, to gaze at the passing spectacle. We were among the latter denomination of lookers on, and recognised, with no small gratification, our clerical friends Messieurs Mouton, Langevin, and the huge father confessor at Guibra, followed by a great number of respectable citizens, among whom the Comte de la Fresnaye and his amiable and intelligent son (recently married) made most respectable figures; They approached the réposoir in question. The priests, with the Host, took their station within it; silence followed; one officiating clergyman then knelt down; shut, what seemed to be, the wooden covers of a book,--with, considerable violence--rose--turned round, and the procession being again put in motion--the whole marched away to the church of the Holy Trinity;--whither I followed it; and where I witnessed what I was unable to comprehend, and what I should not feel much disposed to imitate. But let every country be allowed to reverence and respect its own particular religious ceremonies. We may endure what we cannot commend ... and insult and disrespect are among the last actions which a well regulated mind will shew in its treatment of such matters. I should add, that these réposoirs, a few hours after the performance of the ceremony just described, are indiscriminately broken up: the flowers and the little sand banks falling equally a prey to the winds and the feet of the passenger. Opposite to the inn was an hospital for the female sick. It had been formerly an establishment of very considerable extent and celebrity; but whether it was originally connected with the hospital of the _Léproserie de Saint Lasare_, (about which the Abbé Langevin's History of Falaise is rather curious) the _Hôtel-Dieu_, or the _Hôpital Général_, I cannot take upon me to pronounce. Certain it is, however, that this establishment does great credit to those who have the conduct of it. As foreigners, and particularly as Englishmen, we were permitted to see the whole, without reserve. On my return from witnessing the ceremony at the church of the Trinity, I visited this hospital: my companion having resumed his graphic operations before the Castle. I shall not easily forget the face and figure of the matron. To a countenance of masculine feature, and masculine complexion--including no ordinary growth of beard, of a raven tint--she added a sturdy, squat, muscular figure--which, when put into action, moved in a most decided manner. A large bunch of massive keys was suspended from a girdle at her side; and her dress, which was black, was rendered more characteristic and striking, by the appearance of, what are yet called, _bustles_ above her hips. As she moved, the keys and the floor seemed equally to shake beneath her steps. The elder Smirke would have painted this severe Duenna-like looking matron with inimitable force and truth. But ... she no sooner opened her mouth, than all traits of severity vanished. Her voice was even musical, and her "façon de parler" most gracious. She shewed me the whole establishment with equal good humour and alertness; and I don't know when I ever made such a number of bows (to the several female patients in the wards) within such limited time and space. The whole building has the air of a convent; and there were several architectural relics, perhaps of the end of the fifteenth century, which I only regretted were not of portable dimensions; as, upon making enquiry, little objection seemed to be made to the gratuitous disposal of them. The hour for departure, after sun-set, having arrived, we were summoned to the Diligence when, bidding adieu to the very worthy host and hostess of the _Grand Turc_, (whom I strongly recommend all Englishmen to visit) I made up my mind for a thirty-six hour's journey--as I was to reach Paris on Tuesday morning. The day had been excessively hot for the season of the year; and the night air was refreshing. But after a few snatches of sleep--greatly needed--there appeared manifest symptoms of decay and downfall in the gloomy and comfortless machine in which we took our departure. In other words, towards daylight, and just as we approached _L'Aigle_, the left braces (which proved to be thoroughly rotted leather) broke in two: and down slid, rather than tumbled, the Falaise Diligence! There were two French gentlemen, and an elderly lady, besides ourselves in the coach. While we halted, in order to repair the machine, the Frenchmen found consolation in their misfortune by running to a caffé, (it was between four and five in the morning), rousing the master and mistress, and as I thought, peremptorily and impertinently asking for coffee: while they amused themselves with billiards during its preparation. I was in no humour for eating, drinking, or playing: for here was a second sleepless night! Having repaired this crazy vehicle, we rumbled on for _Verneuil_; where it was exchanged for a diligence of more capacious dimensions. Here, about eleven o'clock, we had breakfast; and from henceforth let it not be said that the art of eating and drinking belongs exclusively to our country:--for such manifestations of appetite, and of attack upon substantials as well as fluids, I had scarcely ever before witnessed. I was well contented with coffee, tea, eggs, and bread--as who might not well be?... but my companions, after taking these in flank, cut through the centre of a roast fowl and a dish of stewed veal: making diversions, in the mean while, upon sundry bottles of red and white wine; the fingers, during the meal, being as instrumental as the white metal forks. We set off at a good round trot for _Dreux_: and, in the route thither, we ascended a long and steep hill, having _Nonancourt_ to the left. Here we saw some very pretty country houses, and the whole landscape had an air of English comfort and picturesque beauty about it. Here, too, for the first time, I saw a VINEYARD. At this early season of the year it has a most stiff and unseemly look; presenting to the eye scarcely any thing but the brown sticks, obliquely put into the ground, against which the vine is trained. But the sloping banks, on each side of the ascending road, were covered with plantations of this precious tree; and I was told that, if the _autumn_ should prove as auspicious as appeared the _spring_, there would be a season of equal gaiety and abundance. I wished it with all my heart. Indeed I felt particularly interested in the whole aspect of the country about _Nonancourt_. The sun was fast descending as we entered the town of _Dreux_--where I had resolved upon taking leave both of the diligence and of my companions; and of reaching Paris by post. At seven we dined, or rather perhaps made an early supper; when my fellow travellers _sustained_ their reputation for their powers of attack upon fish, flesh, and fowl. Indeed the dinner was equally plentiful and well cooked; and the charge moderate in proportion. But there is nothing, either on the score of provision of reasonableness of cost, like the _table d'hôte_ throughout France; and he who cannot accommodate himself to the hour of dining (usually about one) must make up his mind to worse fare and treble charges. After dinner we strolled in the town, and upon the heights near the castle. We visited the principal church, _St. Jean_, which is very spacious, and upon the whole is a fine piece of architecture. I speak more particularly of the interior--where I witnessed, however, some of the most horrible devastations, arising from the Revolution, which I had yet seen. In one of the side chapels, there _had been_ a magnificent monument; perhaps from sixteen to twenty feet in height--crowded with figures as large as life, from the base to the summit. It appeared as if some trenchant instrument of an irresistible force, had shaved away many of the figures; but more especially the heads and the arms. This was only one, but the most striking, specimen of revolutionary Vandalism. There were plenty of similar proofs, on a reduced scale. In the midst of these traces of recent havoc, there was a pleasure mingled with melancholy, in looking up and viewing some exceedingly pretty specimens of old stained glass:--which had escaped the destruction committed in the lower regions, and had preserved all their original freshness. Here and there, in the side chapels, the priests were robing themselves to attend confession; while the suppliants, in kneeling attitudes, were expecting them by the side of the confessionals. From the church I bent my steps to the principal bookseller of the place, whom I found to be an intelligent, civil, and extremely good-natured tradesman. But his stock was too modern. "Donnez vous la peine de monter"--exclaimed he precipitately; begging me to follow him. His up-stairs collection was scarcely of a more ancient character than that below. There were more copies of _Voltaire_ and _Rousseau_ than I should have supposed he could sell in six years--but "on the contrary" (said he) "in six months' time, not a single copy will remain unsold!" I marvelled and grieved at such intelligence; because the poison was not extracted from the nourishment contained in these works. To an enquiry about my old typographical friends, _Verard, Pigouchet_, and _Eustace_, the worthy bibliopole replied "qu'il n'avoit jamais entendu parler de ces gens-la!" Again I marvelled; and having no temptation to purchase, civilly wished him good evening. Meanwhile Mr. L. had attained the castle heights, and was lost in a sort of extacy at the surrounding scene. On entering the outer walls, and directing your steps towards the summit, you are enchanted with a beautiful architectural specimen--in the character of a zigzag early Norman arch--which had originally belonged to a small church, recently taken down: The arch alone stands insulated ... beyond which, a new, and apparently a very handsome, church is erecting, chiefly under the care and at the expence of the present Duke of Orleans;--as a mausoleum for his family--and in which, not many days before our arrival, the remains of one of his children had been deposited. I wished greatly for a perfect drawing of this arch ... but there was no time ... and my companion was exercising his pencil, on the summit, by a minute, bird's eye of the sweep of country to be seen from this elevated situation--through the greater part of which, indeed, the diligence from _Verneuil_ had recently conducted us. I should add, that not a relic of that CASTLE, which had once kept the town and the adjacent country in awe, is now to be seen: but its outer walls enclose a space hardly less than twenty acres:--the most considerable area which I had yet witnessed. To give a more interesting character to the scenery, the sun, broad and red, was just hiding the lower limb of his disk behind the edge of a purple hill. A quiet, mellow effect reigned throughout the landscape. I gazed on all sides; and (wherefore, I cannot now say) as I sunk upon the grass, overwhelmed with fatigue and the lassitude of two sleepless nights, wished, in my heart, I could have seen the effect of that glorious sun-set from, the heights of Dover. Now and then, as when at school, one feels a little home-sick; but the melancholy mood which then possessed me was purely a physical effect from a physical cause. The shadows of evening began to succeed to the glow of sun-set--when, starting from my recumbent position, (in which sleep was beginning to surprise me) I hastened down the heights, and by a nearer direction sought the town and our hotel. We retired betimes to rest--but not until, from an opposite coach maker, we had secured a phaeton-like carriage to convey us with post horses, the next day, to Paris. Excellent beds and undisturbed slumber put me in spirits for the grand entrée into the metropolis of France. Breakfasting a little after nine--before ten, a pair of powerful black horses, one of which was surmounted by a sprucely-attired postilion--with the phaeton in the rear--were at the door of the hotel. Seeing all our baggage properly secured, we sprung into the conveyance and darted forward at a smart gallop. The animals seemed as if they could fly away with us--and the whip of the postilion made innumerable circular flourishes above their heads. The sky was beautifully clear: and a briskly-stirring, but not unpleasantly penetrating, south-east wind, played in our faces as we seemed scarcely to be sensible of the road. What a contrast to the heat, vexation, and general uncomfortableness of the two preceding days of our journey! We felt it sensibly, and enjoyed it in proportion. Our first place of halting, to change horses, was at HOUDAN; which may be about four leagues from Dreux; and I verily believe we reached it in an hour. The route thither is through a flat and uninteresting country; except that every feature of landscape (and more especially in our previous journeys through Normandy) seems to be thrown to a greater distance, than in England. This may account for the flatness of views, and the diminutiveness of objects. Houdan is a village-like town, containing a population of about 2000 inhabitants; but much business is done on market days; and of _corn_, in particular, I was told that they often sold several thousand sacks in a day. Its contiguity to Paris may account for the quantity of business done. In the outskirts of the town,--and flanked, rather than surrounded, by two or three rows of trees, of scarcely three years growth--stands the "stiff and stower" remains of the _Castle of Houdan_. It is a very interesting relic, and to our eyes appeared of an unusual construction. The corner towers are small and circular; and the intermediate portion of the outer wall is constructed with a swell, or a small curvature outwards. I paced the outside, but have forgotten the measurement. Certainly, it is not more than forty feet square. I tried to gain admittance into the interior, but without success, as the person possessing the key was not to be found. I saw enough, however, to convince me that the walls could not be less than twelve feet in thickness. The horses had been some time in readiness, and the fresh postilion seemed to be lost in amazement at the cause of our loitering so long at so insignificant a place. The day warmed as we pushed on for the far-famed "proud Versailles." The approach, from Houdan, is perhaps not the most favourable; although we got peeps of the palace, which gave us rather elevated notions of its enormous extent. We drove to the _Hôtel de Bourbon_, an excellent, clean mansion, close to the very façade of the palace, after passing the Hôtel de Ville; and from whence you have an undisturbed view of the broad, wide, direct road to Paris. I bespoke dinner, and prepared to lounge. The palace--of which I purposely declined visiting the interior--reserving Versailles for a future and entire day's gratification--is doubtless an immense fabric--of which the façade just mentioned is composed of brick, and assumes any thing but a grand and imposing air: merely because it wants simplicity and uniformity of design. I observed some charming white stone houses, scattered on each side of this widely extended chaussée--or route royale--and, upon the whole, Versailles appeared to us to be a magnificent and rather interesting spot. Two or three rows of trees, some forty or fifty generations more ancient than those constituting the boulevards at Houdan, formed avenues on each side of this noble road; and all appeared life and animation--savouring of the proximity of the metropolis. Carriages without number--chiefly upon hire, were going and returning; and the gaits and dresses of individuals were of a more studied and of a gayer aspect. At length, we became a little impatient for our dinner, and for the moment of our departure. We hired one of these carriages; which for nine francs, would convey us to the place of our destination. This appeared to me very reasonable; and after being extravagant enough to drink Champagne at dinner, to commemorate our near approach to the metropolis, we set forward between five and six o'clock, resolving to strain our eyes to the utmost, and to be astonished at every thing we saw!--especially as _this_ is considered the most favourable approach to the capital. The _Ecole Militaire_, to the left, of which Marshal Ney had once the chief command, struck me as a noble establishment. But it was on approaching _Sèvre_ that all the bustle and population, attendant upon the immediate vicinity of a great metropolis, became evident. Single-horsed vehicles--in many of which not fewer than nine persons were pretty closely stowed--three upon a bench, and three benches under the roof--fiacres, barouches, and carriages of every description, among which we discovered a great number from our own country--did not fail to occupy our unremitting attention. _Sèvre_ is a long, rambling, and chiefly single-street town; but picturesquely situated, on a slope, and ornamented to the left by the windings of the Seine. We were downright glad to renew our acquaintance with our old, and long-lost friend, the river Seine; although it appeared to be sadly shorn of its majestic breadth since we had parted with it before the walls of Montmorenci castle, in our route to Havre. The new nine-arch bridge at Sèvre is a sort of Waterloo bridge in miniature. Upon the heights, above it, I learnt that there was a beautiful view of the river in the foreground with Paris in the distance. We passed over the old bridge, and saw _St. Cloud_ to the left: which of course interested us as the late residence of Bonaparte, but which, in truth, has nothing beyond the air of a large respectable country-gentleman's mansion in England. We pushed on, and began to have distinct perceptions of the great city. Of all the desirable places of retreat, whether for its elevated situation, or respectable appearance, or commodious neighbourhood, nothing struck me more forcibly than the village of PASSY, upon a commanding terrace, to the left; some three or four English miles from Paris--and having a noble view both of the river and of the city. It is also considered to be remarkably healthy; and carriages of every description, are constantly passing thither to and from Paris. The dome of the _Pantheon_, and the gilded one of the _Hôtel des Invalides_, together with the stunted towers of _Notre Dame_, were among the chief objects to the right: while the accompaniment of the Seine, afforded a pleasing foreground to this architectural picture in the distance. But, my friend, I will frankly own to you, that I was disappointed ... upon this first glimpse of the GREAT city. In the first place, the surrounding country is flat; with the exception of _Mount Calvary,_ to the left, which has nothing to do with the metropolitan view from this situation. In the second place, what are the _Pantheon_ and _Notre Dame_ compared with _St. Paul's_ and _Westminster Abbey_?--to say nothing of the vicinity of London, as is connected with the beautifully undulating ground about Camberwell, Sydenham, Norwood, and. Shooter's Hill--and, on the other side of the water, Hampstead, Highgate and Harrow: again, Wimbledon and Richmond!... What lovely vicinities are these compared with that of _Mont Martre_? And if you take river scenery into the account, what is the _Seine_, in the neighbourhood of Paris, compared with the _Thames_ in that of London? If the almost impenetrable smoke and filth from coal-fires were charmed away--shew me, I beseech you, any view of Paris, from this, or from any point of approach, which shall presume to bear the semblance of comparison with that of London, from the descent from _Shooter's Hill_! The most bewitched Frenchified-Englishman, in the perfect possession of his eye sight, will not have the temerity to institute such a comparison. But as you near the barriers, your admiration increases. Having got rid of all background of country--as you approach the capital--the foregoing objections vanish. Here the officers of police affected to search our luggage. They were heartily welcome, and so I told them. This disarmed all suspicion. Accordingly we entered Paris by one of the noblest and one of the most celebrated of its Boulevards--the _Champs Elysées_. As we gained the _Place Louis Quinze_, with the _Thuileries_ in front, with the _Hôtel des Invalides_ (the gilded dome of which latter reflected the strong rays of a setting sun) to the right--we were much struck with this combination of architectural splendour: indisputably much superior to any similar display on the entrance into our own capital.[174] Turning to the left, the _Place Vendome_ and the _Rue de la Paix_, with the extreme height of the houses, and the stone materials of their construction, completed our admiration. But the _Boulevards Italiens_--after passing the pillars of the proposed church of _Ste. Madelaine_, and turning to the right--helped to prolong our extreme gratification, till we reached the spot whence I am addressing you. Doubtless, at first glance, this is a most splendid and enchanting city. A particular detail must be necessarily reserved, for the next despatch. I shall take all possible pains to make you acquainted with the treasures of PAST TIMES--in the shape of Manuscripts and printed Books. THE ROYAL LIBRARY has as much astonished me, as the CURATORS of it have charmed me by their extreme kindness and civility.[175] [174] [The above was written in 1818-19. Now, what would be said by a foreigner, of his first drive from Westminster Bridge, through Regent Street to the stupendous Pantheon facing the termination of Portland Place?] [175] At this point, the labours of Mons. LICQUET, as my translator, cease; and I will let him take leave of his task of translation in his own words. "Ici se termine la tache qui m'a été confiée. Après avoir réfuté franchement tout ce qui m'a semblé digne de lêtre, je crois devoir déclarer, en finissant, que mes observations n'ont jamais eu _la personne_ pour objet. Je reste persuadé, d'ailleurs, que le coeur de M.D. est tout-à-fait innocent des écarts de son esprit. Si l'on peut le condamner pour le fait, il faudra toujours l'absoudre pour l'intention...." The _concluding_-sentence need not be copied: it is bad taste to re-echo the notices of one's own good qualities. My Norman translator at least takes leave of me with the grace of a gentleman: although his thrusts have been occasionally direct and severely intended. The foil which he has used has not always had the button covered. The candid reader will, however, judge how these thrusts have been parried; and if the "hits" on the part of my adversary, have been sometimes "palpable," those of the original author will not (it is presumed) be deemed feeble or unimpressive. After all, the sum total of "Errata" scarcely includes THREE of _substantial moment_: and wishing Mons Licquet "a very good day," I desire nothing better than to renew our critical coqueting on the floor of that Library of which he is the "Bibliothècaire en Chef." END OF VOL. I. London: Printed by W. Nicol, Cleveland-row, St. James's. SUPPLEMENT TO VOL. I. OLD POEM ON THE SIEGE OF ROUEN. The city of Rouen makes too considerable a figure in the foregoing pages, and its history, as connected with our own country in the earlier part of the fifteenth century, is too interesting, to require any thing in the shape of apology for the matter which the Reader is about to peruse. This "matter" is necessarily incidental to the _present_ edition of the "Tour;" as it is only recently made public. An "_Old English Poem_" on our Henry the Fifth's "_Siege of Rouen_" is a theme likely to excite the attention of the literary Antiquary on _either_ side of the Channel. The late erudite, and ever to be lamented Rev. J.J. Conybeare, successively Professor of the Saxon language, and of English Poetry in the University of Oxford, discovered, in the exhaustless treasures of the Bodleian Library, a portion of the Old English Poem in question: but it was a portion only. In the 21st. vol. of the Archæologia, Mr. Conybeare gave an account of this fortunate discovery, and subjoined the poetical fragment. Mr. Frederick Madden, one of the Librarians attached to the MS. department in the British Museum, was perhaps yet more fortunate in the discovery of the portion which was lost: and in the 22d. vol. of the _Archæologia_, just published, (pp. 350-398), he has annexed an abstract of the remaining fragment, with copious and learned notes. This fragment had found its way, in a prose attire, into the well-known English MS. Chronicle, called the BRUTE:--usually (but most absurdly) attributed to Caxton. It is not however to be found in _all_ the copies of this Chronicle. On the contrary, Mr. Madden, after an examination of several copies of this MS. has found the poem only in four of them: namely, in two among the Harleian MSS. (Nos. 753; 2256--from which _his_ transcript and collation have been made) in one belonging to Mr. Coke of Holkham, and in a fourth belonging to the _Cotton_ Collection:--Galba E. viii. This latter MS. has a very close correspondence with the _second_ Harl. MS. but is often faulty from errors of the Scribe, See _Gentleman's Magazine, May_, 1829. So much for the history of the discovery of this precious old English Poem--which is allowed to be a contemporaneous production of the time of the Siege--namely, A.D. 1418. A word as to its intrinsic worth--from the testimony of the Critic most competent to appreciate it. "It will be admitted, I believe, (says Mr. Madden) by all who will take the trouble to compare the various contemporary narratives of the Siege of Rouen, that in point of simplicity, clearness, and minuteness of detail, there is NO existing document which can COMPARE with the Poem before us. Its authenticity is sufficiently established, from the fact of the Author's having been an EYEWITNESS of the whole. If we review the names of those Historians who lived at the same period, we shall have abundant reason to rejoice at so valuable an accession to our present stock of information on the subject." _Archæologia_, vol. xxii. p. 353. The reader shall be no longer detained from a specimen or two of the poem itself, which should seem fully to justify the eulogy of the Critic. "On the day after the return of the twelve delegates sent by the City of Rouen to treat with Henry, the Poet proceeds to inform us, that the King caused two tents to be pitched, one for the English Commissioners, and the other for the French. On the English side were appointed the Earl of Warwick, the Earl of Salisbury, the Lord Fitzhugh, and Sir Walter Hungerford, and on the French side, twelve discreet persons were chosen to meet them. Then says the writer, 'It was a sight of solempnity, For to behold both party; To see the rich in their array, And on the walls the people that lay, And on our people that were without, How thick that they walked about; And the heraudis seemly to seene, How that they went ay between; The king's heraudis and pursuivants, In coats of arms _amyantis_. The English a beast, the French a flower, Of Portyngale both castle and tower, And other coats of diversity, As lords bearen in their degree.' "As a striking contrast to this display of pomp and splendour is described the deplorable condition of those unfortunate inhabitants who lay starving in the ditches without the walls of the City, deprived both of food and clothing. The affecting and simple relation of our Poet, who was an eye-witness, is written with that display of feeling such a scene must naturally have excited, and affords perhaps one of the most favourable passages in the Poem to compare with the studied narratives of Elmham or Livius. In the first instance we behold misery literally in rags, and hiding herself in silence and obscurity, whilst in the other she is ostentatiously paraded before our eyes: 'There men might see a great pity, A child of two year or three Go about, and bid his bread, For Father and mother both lay dead, And under them the water stood, And yet they lay crying after food. Some _storven_ to the death, And some stopped both eyen and breath, And some crooked in the knees, And as lean as any trees, And women holding in their arm A dead child, and nothing warm, And children sucking on the pap Within a dead woman's lap.' On Friday the 20th of January, King Henry V. made his public entry into Rouen. His personal appearance is thus described: 'He rode upon a brown steed, Of black damask was his weed, A _Peytrelle_ of gold full bright About his neck hung down right, And a pendant behind him did honge Unto the earth, it was so long. And they that never before him did see, They knew by the cheer which was he.' "With the accustomed, but mistaken, piety for which Henry was ever distinguished, he first proceeded to the monastery, where he alighted from his charger, and was met by the chaplains of his household, who walked before him, chanting _Quis est magnus Dominus?_ After the celebration of mass, the king repaired to the Castle, where he took up his abode. By this termination of a siege, which, for its duration and the horrors it produced, is perhaps without a parallel in ancient or modern times, the city was again plentifully supplied with provisions, and recovered the shock so tedious and afflicting a contest had occasioned: 'And thus our gracious liege Made an end of his siege; And all that have heard this reading, To his bliss Christ you bring, That for us died upon a tree, Amen say we all, _pur charite!_' The Duke of Exeter is appointed Governor of the City, and ordered by Henry to take possession of it the same night. The Duke mounts his horse, and rides strait to the Port de Bevesyne or Beauvais, attended by a retinue, to carry the commands of his sovereign into execution. His Entré, and the truly miserable condition of the besieged, together with the imposing appearance of Henry, shall now be described in the language of the poet. Thanne the duke of Excestre withoute bode Toke his hors and forth he rode, To bevesyne[E] that porte so stronge, That he hadde ley bifore so longe, To that gate sone he kam,[F] And with hym many a worthy[G] manne. There was neying of many a stede, And schynyng of many a gay wede, There was many a getoun[H] gay, With mychille[I] and grete aray. And whanne the gate was openyd there, And thay weren[J] redy into fare, Trumpis[K] blewgh her bemys[L] of bras, Pipis and clarionys forsothe ther was, And as thay entrid thay gaf a schowte With her[M] voyce that was fulle stowte, 'Seint George! seint George!' thay criden[N] on height, And seide, 'welcome oure kynges righte.' The Frensshe pepulle of that Cite Were gederid by thousandes, hem to see. Thay criden[N] alle welcome in fere, 'In siche tyme mote ye entre here, Plesyng to God that it may be, And to vs pees and vnyte.' And of that pepulle, to telle the trewthe, It was a sighte of fulle grete ruthe. Mykelle of that folke therynne Thay weren[O] but verrey bonys and skynne. With eyen holowgh and[P] nose scharpe, Vnnethe thay myght brethe or carpe, For her colowris was[Q] wan as lede, Not like to lyue but sone ben dede. Disfigurid pateronys[R] and quaynte, And as[S] a dede kyng thay weren paynte. There men myght see an[T] exampleyre, How fode makith the pepulle faire.[U] In euery strete summe lay dede, And hundriddis krying aftir brede. And aftir long many a day, Thay deyde as[V] faste as[W] they myght be lad away. Into[X] that way God hem wisse, That thay may come to his blisse! amen. Now[Y] wille y more spelle, And of the duke of exestre to[Z] telle. To that Castelle firste he rode, And sythen[AA] the Cite alle abrode; Lengthe and brede he it mette, And rich baneris he[AB] vp sette. Vpon the porte seint Hillare A Baner of the Trynyte. And at[AC] the port Kaux he sette evene A baner of the quene of heven. And at[AD] port martvile he vppyght Of seint George a baner bryght. He sette vpon the Castelle to[AE] stonde The armys of Fr[a]unce and Englond. And on the Friday in the mornynge Into that Cite come oure kynge. And alle the Bisshoppis in her aray, And vij. abbottis with Crucchis[AF] gay; xlij.[AG] crossis ther were of Religioune[AH], And seculere, and alle thay went a precessioun, Agens that prince withoute the toune, And euery Cros as thay stode He blessid hem with milde mode, And holy water with her hande Thay gaf the prince of oure lande. And at[AI] the porte Kaux so wide He in passid withoute[AJ] pride; Withoute pipe or bemys blaste, Our kyng worthyly he in paste. And as a conquerour in his righte Thankyng[AK] euer god almyghte; And alle the pepulle in that Citie 'Wilcome our[AL] lorde,' thay seide, 'so fre! Wilcome into[AM] thyne owne righte, As it is the[AN] wille of[AO] god almyght.' With that thay kryde alle _'nowelle!_' Os[AP] heighe as thay myght yelle. He rode vpon a browne stede, Of blak damaske was his wede. A peytrelle[AQ] of golde fulle bryght Aboute his necke hynge[AR] doun right, And a pendaunte behynd him dide[AS] honge Vnto the erthe, it was so longe, And thay that neuer before hym dide[AT] see, Thay knew by chere[u] wiche was he. To the mynster dide he fare, And of his horse he lighte there. His chapelle[AU] mette hym at[AV] the dore there, And wente bifore[AW] hym alle in fere, And songe a response[AX] fulle glorivs, _Quis est magnus dominus_. Messe he hirde and offrid thoo, And thanne to the Castelle dide he goo. That is a place of rialte, And a paleis of grete beaute. There he hym[AY] loggid in the Toune, With rialle and grete renoune. And the[AZ] cite dide faste encrece Of brede and wyne, fisshe, and fflesshe.[BA] And thus oure gracious liege Made an ende of his seege. And alle that[BB] haue hirde this redynge[BC] To his[BD] blisse criste you brynge, That for vs deide vpon[BE] a tre, Amen sey[BF] we alle, pur cherite! _There was many a getoun gay_.] The following particulars relative to the _getoun_ appear in MS. Harl. 838. "Euery baronet euery estat aboue hym shal have hys baner displeyd in y'e field yf he be chyef capteyn, euery knyght his penoun, euery squier or gentleman hys _getoun_ or standard." "Item, y'e meyst lawfully fle fro y'e standard and _getoun_, but not fro y'e baner ne penon.". "Nota, a stremer shal stand in a top of a schyp or in y'e fore-castel: a stremer shal be slyt and so shal a standard as welle as a _getoun_: a _getoun_ shal berr y'e length of ij yardes, a standard of iii or 4 yardes, and a stremer of xii. xx. xl. or lx. yardes longe." This account is confirmed by MS. Harl. 2258, and Lansd. 225. f. 431. as quoted by Mr. Nicholas, in the Retrosp. Rev. vol. i. N.S. The former of these MSS. states: Euery standard and _Guydhome_ [whence the etymology of the word is obvious] to have in the chief the crosse of St. George, to be slitte at the ende, and to conteyne the creste or supporter, with the posey, worde, and devise of the owner." It adds, that "a guydhome must be two yardes and a halfe, or three yardes longe." This rule may sometimes have been neglected, at least by artists, for in a bill of expences for the Earl of Warwick, dated July 1437, and printed by Dugdale, (Warw. p. 327.) we find the following entry; "Item, a _gyton_ for the shippe of viij. yerdis long, poudrid full of raggid staves, for the lymnyng and workmanship, ijs." The Grant of a _guydon_ made in 1491 to Hugh Vaughan, is preserved in the College of Arms. It contains his crest placed longitudinally. _Retrospective Review, New Series_, vol. i. p. 511. [E] _bewesyns_. [F] _came_. [G] _worthy_ deest. [H] A species of banner or streamer. See Note. [I] _noble_. [J] _were_. [K] Trumpeters. [L] Trumpets. [M] _that_. [N] cryed. [O] _were_. [P] _with nose_. [Q] _were_. [R] _patrons_.--Workmens' models or figures. _Patrone_, forme to werke by. _Prompt. Parvul_. MS. Harl. 221. There is probably here an allusion to the waxen or wooden effigies placed on the hearse of distinguished personages. [S] _as dede thyng they were peynte_. [T] _in_. [U] _to fare_. [V] as _deest_. [W] _as cartes led awey_. [X] _Vnto_. [Y] In MS. Harl. 753, a break is here made, and a large capital letter introduced. [Z] _to_ deest. [AA] _sithe_. [AB] _vp he_. [AC] _atte porte kauxoz_. [AD] _atte_ porte. [AE] _that stounde_. [AF] Crosses. [AG] xliiij. [AH] _religiouns_. [AI] _atte porte hauxoz_. [AJ] The remainder, of this, and the two following lines are omitted. [AK] _Thanked_. [AL] _they seyde our lord so free_. [AM] _vnto_. [AN] _the_ deest. [AO] _to_. [AP] _As_. [AQ] Poitrell, breast plate. [AR] _hangyng_. [AS] _dide_ deest. [AT] _the_ chere. [AU] The chaplains of his household. Lat. _capella_. [AV] _atte_ dore, _there_ deest. [AW] _afore_. [AX] _respon._ [AY] _logged hym._ [AZ] _his cite fast encrest_. [BA] _beste_. [BB] _that_ deest. [BC] _tydyng_. [BD] _his_ deest. [BE] on. [BF] _seyde all for charitee_. BRONZE GILT ANTIQUE STATUE AT LILLEBONNE, p. 127-8. This Statue, as the above reference will testify, is now in the possession of Mr. Samuel Woodburn, of St. Martin's Lane. When the note relating to it was written, I could, not place my hand upon a Brochure (in my possession) published at Rouen in 1823,[176] containing an archaeological description of this Statue by M. Revet, and a scientific account of its component parts, by M. Houton La Billardière, Professor of Chemistry at Rouen. The former embodied his remarks in two letters addressed to the Prefect of the Lower Seine. A print of the figure in its then extremely mutilated state, is prefixed; but its omission would have been no great drawback to the publication--which, in its details, appears to be ingenious, learned, and satisfactory. The highest praise is given to the Statue, as a work of art of the second century.[177] Its _identity_ seems to be yet a subject of disputation:--but M. Revet considers it as "the representation of some idolatrous divinity." The opinion of its being a representation of Bacchus, or of Apollo, or of a Constellation, he thinks might be regulated by a discovery of some emblem, or attribute, found in the vicinity of the Statue. Two other plates--lithographised--relating to explanations of the pieces of the Statue, close this interesting performance. [176] "_Description de la, Statue Fruste, en Bronze Doré, trouvée a Lillebonne &c. Suivie de l'Analyse du Métal, avec le dessein de la Statue, et les Tracés de quelques particularités relatives à la Confection de cette Antique." Rouen,_ 1823. pp. 56. [177] Other details induce me to fix the period of its completion towards the end of the second century: and after the unheard of difficulties which the artist had to overcome, one would scarcely be believed if one said that every thing is executed in a high state of perfection." p. 34. BIBLIOGRAPHICAL INDEX. INDEX OF MANUSCRIPTS, AND OF PRINTED BOOKS, DESCRIBED, QUOTED, OR REFERRED TO. Vol Page _Æneas Sylvius de Duobus Amantibus_, no date, 4to.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 315 _Æsopus, Gr_. 4to. Edit. prin.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 308 ---- _Lat_. 1481, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 141 ---- _Ital_. 1485, _Tuppi_, in the same library at Paris, ii 142 ---- _Ital_. 1491 and 1492, 4to.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 308 ---- _Hispan_. 1496, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 142 ---- _Germ. Without Date, &c_., in the same library ii 142 ---- ---- in the same library, ii 142 _Alain Chartier, paraboles de, Verard_, 1492, folio--UPON VELLUM--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 134 _Albert Durer_; original drawings of, in a Book of Prayers, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 132 _Alcuinus de Trinitate, Monast. Utimpurrha_, 1500, folio--in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 101 _Aldine Classics_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 145 ---- ----, in the Library of St. Geneviève, ii 177 ---- ----, in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 41 ---- ----, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 146 _Alexandrus Gallus_, vulgo _de Villa Dei Doctrinale V de Spira_, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 315 _Almanac historique--le Messager Boiteux_--a chap book, extracts from, iii 73 _Anti-Christ--block book_--in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 181 _Ambrosii Hexameron_, 1472, folio--in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 99 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 430 _Amours, chasse et départ, Verard_, 1509, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 132 _Anthologia Græca_, 1498, 4to.--UPON VELLUM, in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, at Paris, ii 176 ---- ---- 1503, _Aldus_, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 145 _Antonii Archpi Opera Theologica_, 1477, _Koberger_, folio--in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 407 _Apocalypse, block book_, in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 26 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 331 _Apostles Creed_, in German, _block book_, with fac simile--in the Public Library at Munich, iii 137 _Appianus, Lat. Ratdolt_, 1478, folio--in the library of the Monastery of St. Florian, iii 236 _Apuleius_, 1469, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 128 ---- ----, in the Library of the Monastery of Closterneuburg, iii 397 ---- ----, imperfect, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 142 ---- ----, UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 308 ---- ----, 1472, _Jenson_, folio--in the last mentioned library, iii 308 _Aquinas, T., Sec. Secundæ, Schoeffher_, 1467, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 316 ----, _Opus Quartiscript. Schoeffher_. 1469, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the same Library, iii 316 ----, _In Evang. Matt, et Marc_. 1470, _S. and Pannartz_, folio--in the same library, iii 316 ---- _de virtut. et vitiis. Mentelin_--in the Public Library at Munich, iii 141 _Arbre des Batailles, Verard_, 1493, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 132 _Aretinus de Bella Gothico_, 1470, folio--in the Public Library at Caen, i 208 _Aristotelis Opera, Gr. Aldus_, 1495, 6 vols. Two copies UPON VELLUM (the first volume in each copy wanting) in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 136 ---- _Ethica Nichomachea. Gr. (Aldus)--_ remarkably splendid copy of, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 138 _Ars Memorandi_, &c.--_block book_: five copies of, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 135 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 181 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 332 ---- -----in the Library of Göttwic Monastery, iii 428 _Ars Moriendi, Germanicé--4to_.-- in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 26 ---- _Lat. block book_--two editions, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 136 _Art de bien Mourir, Verard_, no date, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 133 _Art and Crafte to know well to dye, Caxton_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 124 ARTUS LE ROY; MS. xiith century,--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 94 Another MS. of the same Romance, in the same Library, ii 94 _Artaxani Summa_, (1469) folio--in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 232 _Augustinus Sts. De Civitate Dei_, 1467, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 113 ---- ---- in the Library of Ste. Geneviève at Paris, ii 173 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 301 ---- ---- in the Library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 397 ---- ---- _Sweynheym and Pannartz_, 1470, folio, in the Public Library at Vire, i 297 _Augustinus Sts. De Civitate Dei_, 1467, folio, UPON VELLUM, late in the Library of Chremsminster Monastery, iii 221 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 181 ---- ---- _Schoeffher_, 1473; folio--in the Library of the Monastery of Chremsminster, iii 221 ---- ---- _Jenson_, 1475, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 301 ---- _Confessionum Libri XIII_. 1475. 4to.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 301 ---- ---- _de singularitate Clericorum_, 1467, 4to. in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 40 AUGUSTINI STI. IN PSALMOS, MS. xvth century--formerly in the library of Corvinus, King of Hungary, and now in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 36 ---- ---- _Yppon. de Cons. Evang_. 1473, folio--in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 101 _Aulus Gellius_, 1469, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 127 ---- ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 308 Aurbach's Meditations upon the Life of Christ, 1468, Printed by Gunther Zeiner. _Pub. Lib. Augsbourg_, iii 100 _Ausonius_, 1472, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 128 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 309 ---- ---- _Aldus_, 1517, 8vo. Grolier's copy, on large paper, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 148 _Aymon, les quatre filz_, 1583, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal, at Paris, ii 163 B. BALLADS; _Bon Jour, Bon Soir_: i 132 --_Toujours_, 389 various, from the _Vaudevires of Olivier Basselin_, 292 -293 -294 _Vive Le Roi, Vive L'Amour_, i 310 _en arborant le drapeau blanc, at Falaise_, i 324 _le Baiser d'Adieu_, i 343 _L'Image de la Vie_, i 344 _Bartholi Lectura de Spira_, 1471. Folio. In the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 316 _Bartsch, I. Adam de--Catalogue des Estampes, par, &c_. 1818. 8vo. iii 393 _Bella (La) Mano_, 1474, 4to.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 321 _Bellovacensis Vinc. Spec. Hist_. 1473, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 317 _Berlinghieri, Geografia_, folio--in the Imperial Library (Prince Eugene's copy) at Vienna, iii 321 _Berinus et Aygres de Lamant, Bonfons_, no date, in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 165 _Bessarionis Epistolæ_, (1469) folio--in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 24 BIBLIA LATINA, MS. ixth century, of Charles the Bald--in the Royal Library at Paris, with a copper-plate engraving of that Monarch's portrait, ii 65 ------ ------ XIIth century, in the same library, ii 67 ------ ------ XVth century, of the _Emperor Wenceslaus_--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 290 BIBLIA HIST. PARAPHRASTICA, MS. XVth century, ii 69 _Biblia Polyglotta Complut_. 1516, &c. in the Public Library at Coutances, i 270 ------ ------ copy belonging to Diane de Poictiers, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 149 ------ ------ 1521, in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 181 ------ ------ copy of Demetrius Chalcondylas, afterwards that of Eckius, in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 181 ------ ------ _Walton_; royal copy, in the Public Library at Caen, i 211 ------ ------ with the original dedication, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 22 ------ ------ in the Library of the Monastery of St. Florian, in Austria, iii 237 _Biblia Polyglotta, Le Jay_: in the Library of the Lycée at Bayeux i 245 ------ _Hebraica, edit. Soncini_, 1488, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 303 _Biblia Hebraica edit. Houbigant_, 1753, in a Private Collection near Bayeux, i 235 ---- ---- _Hahn_, 1806, in the Library of the Monastery of Closterneuburg, iii 396 ---- _Græca, Aldus_, 1518, folio--Francis Ist's copy, upon thick paper, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 148 ---- ---- _Aldus_, upon thick paper, in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 157 ---- ---- the usual copy, in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 39 _Biblia Latina_, (_edit. Maz. 1455_) folio, 2 vols., two copies of, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 106 ---- ---- a copy in the Mazarine Library at Paris, ii 190 ---- ---- a copy in the Public Library at Munich, iii 139 ---- ---- a copy in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 302 ---- ---- _Pfister_, (1461) folio, 3 vols. in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 108 ---- two copies, 1592, 1603, in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 39 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 302 ---- _Fust und Schoeffher_, 1462: folio--three copies, (two UPON VELLUM, and a third on paper) in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 154 ---- ---- VELLUM COPY, in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, ii 173 ---- VELLUM COPY, in the Mazarine Library at Paris, ii 190 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 22 ---- ---- (imperfect) in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 181 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 302 _Biblia Latina Mentelin_--in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 404 _Biblia Latino Mentelin_, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 302 ---- _Eggesteyn_, (ms. date, 1468) in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 404 ---- ---- (ms. date, 1466) in the Public Library at Munich, iii 141 ---- _Sweynheym and Pannartz_, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 302 ---- supposed edition of Eggesteyn, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, iii 55 ---- 1475, folio, _Frisner_, &c.--in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 96 ---- (1475 _edit. Gering_) imperfect copy in the Chapter Library at Bayeux, i 244 ---- _Hailbrun_, 1476, folio: two copies, of which one is UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 303 ---- ---- _Jenson_, 1479, folio, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 405 ---- ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna--and a second copy upon paper, iii 303 ---- ---- 1485, folio, in the Public Library at Caen, i 208 ---- ---- _Froben_, 1495, 8vo. in the Public Library at Vire, i 298 BIBLIA GERMANICA, MS. of the Emperor Wenceslaus, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 290 _Biblia Germanica, Mentelin_, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 108 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 403 ---- ---- two copies, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 21 ---- ---- two copies in the Public Library at Munich, iii 140 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 180 _Biblia Germanica, Mentelin_, folio, in the Library at Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 397 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Ratisbon, _Supplement_, iii 418 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 431 ---- ---- _supposed first edition_, in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 180 ---- ---- _supposed first edition_, folio, in the Library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 397 _Biblia Germanica, Sorg. Augsbourg_, 1477, folio, in the Library of the Monastery of St. Florian, iii 236 ---- ---- _Peypus_, 1524, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 22 _Biblia Italica; Kalend. Augusti_, 1471--folio--in the Mazarine Library, at Paris, ii 191 ---- ---- imperfect copy, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 22 ---- ---- _Kalend. Octobris_, 1471, folio--in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, at Paris, ii 173 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 22 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 303 _Bibl. Hist, Venet_. 1492, folio--copy purchased of M. Fischeim at Munich, iii 154 _Biblia Bohemica_, 1488, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 109 ---- _Polonica_, 1563, folio--in the same Library, ii 109 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 22 ---- ---- copy purchased by the Author at Augsbourg, iii 96 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 304 ---- ---- 1599; folio--in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, ii 174 _Biblia Hungarica_, 1565, folio--incomplete, in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 39 ---- _Sclavonica_, 1581, folio, in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 22 ---- ---- 1587, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 109 _Bible, La Sainte_, 1669, folio; large paper copy in the Public Library of Caen, i 211 BIBLIA-HISTORICA, _MS. versibus germanicis_, Sec. XIV.--in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 29 ---- _Aurea. Lat. I. Zeiner_, 1474, folio--in the Library of Chremsminster Monastery, iii 222 ---- _Pauperum, block book_: in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 108 ---- ---- _block book_, German,--in the Public Library at Stuttgart iii 26 ---- ---- _Latine_, first edition, in the same Library, iii 27 ---- ---- _block book_--one German, and two Latin editions, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 136 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 331 BIOGRAPHY, ROYAL, OF FRANCE;--XVIth century--magnificent MS. in the Royal Library at Paris. ii 87 BLAZONRY OF ARMS, BOOK OF--XIVth century, with fac-simile portrait of _Leopold de Sempach_ in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 299 _Block books_; at Paris, ii 208, at Stuttgart, iii 26, at Munich, iii 134; at Landshut, iii 181; at Vienna, iii 331. BOCACE, DES CAS DES NOBLES HOMMES ET FEMMES, MS. XVth century, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 84 ---- ---- two more MSS. of the same work, in the same Library, ii 85 _Boccace Ruines des-Nobles Hommes_, &c. 1476, _Colard Mansion_, folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 126 _Boccaccio Il Decamerone_, 1471, _Valdarfer_, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 125 ---- ---- 1472, _A. de Michaelibus_, folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 126 _Boccaccio II Decamerone_, in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 431 ---- ---- 1476, _Zarotus_, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 321 ---- ---- _Deo Gracias, Sine Anno: forsan edit. prin_. in the Public Library at Munich, iii 143 ---- _Nimphale_, 1477, 4to., in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 26 _Boetius, F. Johannes_, 1474, 4to. in the Library of Ste. Genevieve. at Paris, ii 176 _Bonifacii Papæ Libr. Decret_, 1465, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Library of Mölk Monastery, iii 252 ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 430 _Bonnie vie, ou Madenie, Chambery_, 1485, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 326 Book of the Gospels of the Emperor Lotharius, Royal Library at Paris, ii 67 BREVIAIRE DE BELLEVILLE, MS. xivth century, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 72 BREVIARY OF JOHN DUKE OF BEDFORD, MS. xvth century--in the Royal Library at Paris--with copper plate fac-simile of a portion of the Adoration of the Magi, from the same, ii 73 BREVIARE DE M. DE MONMORENCY, MS. xvith century--in the Emperor of Austria's private collection at Vienna, iii 386 BREVIARIUM ECCL. Liss. MS.; in the Public Library at Caen i 209 BRUT D'ANGLETERE, MS. xivth century--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 300 _Budæi Comment, in Ling. Gr_. 1529, folio--Francis 1st. copy, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 140 _Burtrio, Anthon. de, Adam Rot_, 1472, folio, in the Library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 399 C. _Cæsar_, 1469, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 128 _Cæsar_, 1460, folio, in the Mazarine Library, ii 192 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Munich, iii 142 ---- ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library, iii 309 ---- 1471. _Jenson_, in the library of Göttwic Monastery, iii 430 ---- 1472. _S. and Pannartz_, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 309 _Calderi Opus Concilior. Adam Rot_.--1472. Folio, in the library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 399 CALENDARIUM, MS., xvith century in the Public Library at Munich iii 128 ---- ---- _Regiomontani, block book_ in the Public Library at Munich iii 138 _Cantica Canticorum, Edit. Prin_. three copies in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 138 _Castille et Artus d'Algarbe_, 1587. 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris ii 160 _Catéchisme à l'usage des grandes filles pour êtres mariés_ i 89 _Caterina da Bologna_, no Date. 4to. in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 332 ---- _da Sienna_, 1477, 4to., in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 322 ---- _de Senis_, 1500, folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 149 _Catholicon_, 1460, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library Paris, ii 114 ---- ---- 1460, folio, in the Imp. Lib. at Vienna, iii 317 ---- ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 143 ---- _G, Zeiner_, 1469, UPON VELLUM, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 143 ---- ---- in the Monastic Library of Chremsminster, iii 221 ---- ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 317 _Catullus, Tibullus, et Propertius_, 1472, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 128 _Catullus, Tibullus, et Propertius_, in the Mazarine Library, ii 193 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 409 _Caxton, books printed by_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 102 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 331 _Celestina Commedia de, Anvers_, 18mo., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 162 _Chaucer's Book of Fame, Caxton_, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 332 CHESS, GAME OF, _metrical German version of_, MS., sec. xv., in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 154 _Chevalier Delibre_, 1488, 4to., in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 326 CHEVALIER AU LION, MS., 1470, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 33 _Chivalry_; see _Tournaments_. _Chrétien de Mechel_, Cat. des Tableaux de la Galerie imp. et roy. de Vienne, 1781, 8vo., iii 371 ---- _Foresii, Lat_. 1474, folio, _printed by Gotz_, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 405 ---- _Hungariæ_, 1485, 4to., in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 99 _Chronicon Gottwicense_, 1732, folio, 2 vols., some account of this rare and valuable work, iii 436 ---- ---- referred to, iii 271 _Chrysostomi Comment., Gr_. 1529, folio, copy of Diane de Poictiers, in the Public Library at Caen, i 213 _Cicero, de Officiis_ 1465, 4to., two copies UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 309 ---- ---- 1466, 4to., upon paper, in the Mazarine Library at Paris, iii 192 ---- ---- 1466, 4to., UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 24 ---- ---- 1466, 4to., UPON VELLUM, in the Imp. Lib. at Vienna, iii 309 ---- ---- (_Aldus_), 8vo., UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 146 _Cicero, Epistolæ ad Familiares_, 1467, Cardinal Bessarion's copy in the Imperial Library, at Vienna, iii 310 ---- ---- 1469, _S. and Pannartz_, folio, in the same Library, iii 310 ---- ---- 1469, _S: and Pannartz_, folio, in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 98 ---- ---- 1469, _I. de Spira_, in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 24 ---- ---- 1502, Aldus, 8vo., UPON VELLUM, in the possession of M. Renouard, bookseller, ii 222 _Cicero, de Oratore, Monast. Soubiac_., folio, in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, at Paris, ii 173 ---- ---- _V. de Spira_, folio, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 408 ---- _Opera Philosophica, Ulric Han_, folio, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 142 ---- _De Natura Deorum, V. de Spira_. 1471, folio, in the Mazarine Library, at Paris, ii 192 ---- _Rhetorica Vetus, Jenson_, 1470, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Library of Ste. Genevieve, at Paris, ii 175 ---- ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 310 ---- _Orationes, S. and Pannartz_, 1471, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 310 ---- ---- _Valdarfer_, 1471, folio, UPON VELLUM, (wanting one leaf) in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 141 ---- ---- 1519, _Aldus_, 8vo, UPON VELLUM, first volume only, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 146 ---- ---- perfect copy, UPON VELLUM, in the Library of St. Geneviève, ii 177 ---- _Opera Omnia_, 1498, folio, 4 vols., in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, at Paris, ii 176 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 310 ---- ---- 1534, _Giunta_, folio, singular copy in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 152 _Cid el Cavalero_, 1627, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal, at Paris: bound with _Seys Romances del Cid Ruy Diaz de Bevar_, 1627, 4to. ii 161 CITÉ DE DIEU, MS., in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 82 _Cité des Dames, (Verard)_ folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 327 _Codex Ebnerianus_, referred to iii 447 _Compendium Morale_, folio, UPON VELLUM, unique copy, late in the possession of the Baron Derschau, at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 443 COSTENTIN DU, MS., in the Public Library at Caen, i 209 COUTANCES, MS., biographical details connected with, in the Public Library at Caen, i 210 _Coutumes Anciennes_, 1672, 12mo. at Caen, i 211 _Cronica del Cid. Seville_. 4to., in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 327 Cronique de France, 1493, _Verard_, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 130 ---- _de Florimont_, 1529, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 164 ---- _de Cleriadus_, 1529, 4to.,--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 166 D. _Daigremont et Vivian_, 1538, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal, at Paris, ii 166 _Dante Numeister_, 1472, folio, in the Mazarine Library at Paris, ii 193 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 322 ---- _Petrus Adam_, 1472, folio, in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, at Paris, ii 176 ---- ---- _Neapoli, Tuppi,_ folio, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 25 ---- ---- _Milan_, 1478, with, the comments of G. Tuzago, folio, in the same collection, iii 25 ---- 1481, folio, perfect copy, with twenty copper plates, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 144 ---- 1481, folio, with xx copper-plates, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 323 _Decor Puellarum, Jenson_, 1461, 4to., in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 323 _Defensio Immac. Concept. B.V.M_. 1470, _block book_, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 139 _Delphin Classics_, fine set of, in the library of Chremsminster Monastery, iii 222 _Der Veis Ritter_, 1514, folio, unique copy, in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 183 _Dion Cassius_, 1548, Gr. folio, edit. prin., Diane de Poictiers' copy, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 152 _Dio Chrysostom. de Regno, Valdarfer_, 4to. UPON VELLUM, in the Emperor's private collection at Vienna, iii 388 DIOSCORIDES, GRÆCE, MS., VIth century, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 296 DIVERTISSMENTS TOUCHANT LA GUERRE, MS., in the Public Library at Caen, i 209 _Doolin de Mayence, Paris, Bonfons_, 4to. in the Library of the Arsenal, ii 167 _Durandi Rationale_, 1459, folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 108 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library, Vienna, iii 317 _Durandi Rationale_, 1459, folio, in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 430 ---- ---- 1474, _I. Zeiner_, folio, in the Library of Chremsminster Monastery, iii 222 E. ECHECS AMOREUX. MS. folio--with copper-plate fac-simile in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 83 _Echec Jeu de, (Verard)_ no date--UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 132 _Ein nuizlich büchlin, Augs_., 1498, 4to.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 327 _Erasmus expurgatus iuxta cens. Acad. Lovan_. 1579, folio, in the Public Library at Augsbourg. See _Testament. Novum,_ 1516. iii 102 EVANGELIA QUATUOR, Lat. MS. VIth century, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 64 ---- ---- VIIIth century, in the Library at Chremsminster Monastery, iii 224 ---- ---- IXth century--in the Public Library at Munich, iii 123 ---- ---- XIth century, in the same Library, iii 124 ---- ---- Xth century, in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 179 ---- ---- XIth century--in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 27 ---- ---- XIVth century, in the Imperial Library at Vienna iii 291 EVANGELIUM STI. IOHANNIS, MS. Lat. XIth century, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 71 _Evangelia cum Epistolis: Ital_. folio--in the Library of Göttwic Monastery, iii 428 Evangelistarium, of Charlemagne, MS. folio, in the Private Library of the King, at Paris, ii 199 _Euclides_, 1482, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 139 ---- ---- four varying copies of, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 143 ---- Ratdolt. 1485, in the Library of the Monastery of St. Florian, iii 236 _Euripides, Gr_., 1503, _Aldus_--UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 145 _Eustathius in Homerum_, 1542--folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 138 ---- ---- upon paper, in the same collection, ii 151 ---- ---- 1559, folio, fine copy, upon paper, in the Public Library at Caen, i 211 _Eutropius_, 1471, _Laver_, folio--in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 39 _Exhortation against the Turks_ (1472) in the Public Library at Munich, iii 135 F. _Fait de la Guerre C. Mansion_, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 127 _Fazio Dita Mundi_, 1474, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 323 _Ficheti Rhetorica--Gering_--4to.--UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 317 _Fiorio e Biancifiore, Bologna_, 1480, folio--in the Library of the Arsenal, at Paris, ii 161 _Fierbras_, 1486, folio--Prince Eugene's copy, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 327 _Fortalitium Fidei_--folio--no date--in the Public Library, at Munich: curious printed advertisement in this copy, iii 145 _Frezzi Il Quadriregio_, 1481, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 323 _Fulgosii Anteros_--1496--folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 323 FUNERAILES DES REINES DE FRANCE, MS. folio--in the Emperor's Private Collection at Vienna, iii 387 G. _Galenus, Gr_. 1525, folio. _Aldus_--large paper, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 148 _Galien et Jaqueline_, 1525, folio--in the Library of the Arsenal, at Paris, ii 163 _Gallia Christiana_, 1732, folio, in the Chapter Library at Bayeux, ii 244 _Games of Chess, Caxton_, folio, 2d. edit.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 332 GENESIS--MS. of the _ivth century--fragments of Chapters of_, account of--with fac-simile Illuminations, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 289 _Gerard Comte de Nevers_, 1526, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 164 _Geyler, Navic. Fat_. 1511, 4to.--in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 102 _Gloria Mulierum Jenson_, 4to.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 324 _Godfrey of Boulogne, Caxton_, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 333 _Gospels_, folio--MS. xiiith century--in the Emperor's Private Library at Vienna, iii 386 _Grammatica Rythmica_, 1466, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 114 _Gratian Opus. Decret. Schoeffher_, 1472, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 398 _Guillaume de Palerne_, 1552, 4to, in the Library of the Arsenal: another edition, 1634, 4to., ii 166 _Guy de Warwick_, no date, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 159 _Gyron Le Courtoys_, no date, _Verard_, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 130 H. _Hartlieb's Chiromancy, block book_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 115 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 332 _Helayne La Belle_, 1528, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 166 _Hecuba et Iphigenia in Aulide_, Gr. et Lat. 1507, UPON VELLUM, 8vo. ii 145 _Hector de Troye, Arnoullet_, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 167 _Heures, printed by Vostre_, fine copy of, in the Public Library at Caen, i 210 _Herodotus, Gr_. 1502, _Aldus_, folio, large paper copy in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 150 HISTORIA B.M. VIRGINIS, MS., folio, xvth century, in the Public Library at Paris, ii 76 ---- ---- _block book_, folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 116 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 26 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 331 _Historiæ Augusta Scriptores_, 1475, folio, _P. de Lavagna_, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 408 ---- ---- _Aldus_, 1521, 8vo., UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 147 _History of Bohemia_, _by Pope Pius II_, 1475, in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 99 HISTOIRE ROMAINE, MS, xvth century; folio, 3 vols. in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 87 _Homeri Opera, Gr_., 1488, folio, UNCUT, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 129 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 311 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 432 ---- ---- _No date_, _Aldus_, 8vo., UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 145 ---- ---- in the Library of Ste. Genevieve, ii 177 ---- ---- 1808, _Bodoni_, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 129 ---- ---- _Batrachomyomachia_, _Gr._ 4to., edit. prin. in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 311 HORÆ B.M. VIRGINIS, MS., 8vo., in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 74 ---- ---- folio, belonging to ANN OF BRITANNY, with copper plate engraving of her portrait therefrom, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 78 ---- ---- belonging to Pope Paul III. in the same Library, ii 80 ---- ---- MS., XVth century, in the Royal Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 37 ---- ---- 8vo., in the Emperor's private collection at Vienna, iii 386 ---- STI. LUDOVICI, MS., XIIIth century, in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 157 ---- ---- _Gr._ 1497, 12mo. _printed by Aldus_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 103 -147 ---- ---- purchase of a copy from Mr. Stöger, at Munich, iii 151 HORATIUS, M. S., XIIth century in the Mölk Monastery, iii 258 ---- Edit. Prin. 4to., in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 96 ---- _Venet_. 1494, 4to., purchased of Mr. Fischeim, at Munich, iii 154 ---- 1501, _Aldus_, 8vo., UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 146 ---- ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 143 _Horloge de Sapience, Verard_, 1493, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 131 HORTUS DELICIARUM, MS., XIIth century, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 401 HORTULUS ANIMÆ, MS., XVth century, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 294 ---- ---- 1498, 12mo., in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 38 ---- _Rosarum, &c_., 1499, 8vo., in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 101 _Huet, Demonstrat. Evang_. 1690, (1679?) folio, unique copy in the Public Library at Caen, i 211 _Huon de Bourdeaux_, four editions of, in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 163 I. _Isocrates, Gr., Aldus_, 1534, folio, large paper copy in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 148 ---- ---- Printed at Milan, 1493, folio, ii 149 _Jason, Roman de, printed by Caxton_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 103 ---- ---- _same edition_, in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 155 _Jason, printed by Caxton_, in the Imp. Lib. at Vienna, iii 332 _Iehan de Saintré, Bonfons_, no date, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 165 ---- _Paris, Bonfons_, no date, 4to., in the same collection, ii 165 JEROME, ST., VIE, MORT, ET MIRACLES DE, MS., XVth century, in the Public Library of Stuttgart, iii 31 _Ieronimi Epistolæ_, 1468, UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 304 ---- ---- 1470, _S. and Pannartz_, folio, in the Library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 398 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 431 ---- ---- 1470, _Schoeffher_, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 406 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 431 ---- ---- _Parmæ_, 1480, folio, in the Public Library at Augsbourg, iii 98 _Josephus, Lat_. 1480, folio, in the Library of the Monastery of St. Florian, iii 236 ---- _Gallicè_, 1492, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 328 _Jourdain de Blave, Paris, Chretien, no date_, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 166 _Jouvencel le_, 1497, _Verard_, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 328 _Juvenalis_, folio, _V. de Spira_, edit. prin. in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 409 ---- _Ulric. Han. typ. grand_, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 311 ---- 1474, folio, in the Public Library at Caen, i 208 --- _I. de Fivizano_, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 311 L. _Lactantii Institutiones_, 1465, folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 112 ---- ---- in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, ii 172 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 305 ---- ---- 1470, _S. and Pannartz_, folio, in the Mazarine Library at Paris, ii 192 ---- ---- _Rostoch_, 1476, UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 305 LANCELOT DU LAC, MS., XIVth century, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 88 ---- ---- another MS. of about the same period, in the same Library, ii 89 ---- ---- another manuscript in the same library, ii 89 ---- ---- 1488, _Verard_, folio, in the Imperial Library (Prince Eugene's copy) at Vienna, iii 328 ---- ---- 1494, _Verard_, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, iii 130 ---- ---- 1496, _Verard,_ folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 328 _Lascaris Gram. Græc_. 1476, 4to., in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 127 LEGES BAVARICÆ, MS., XIIIth century, in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 179 _Legenda Aurea, (seu Sanctorum) Ital. Jenson_, 1476, folio, in the Mazarine Library at Paris, ii 191 ---- ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 324 ---- ---- 1475, _Gering_, folio, in the Public Library at Caen, i 208 _Les Deux Amans, Verard_, 1493, 4to., in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 328 LIBER GENERATIONIS IES. XTI. MS. VIIth century: in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 70 _Liber Modorum significandi_, 1480, _St. Albans_,--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 125 _Liber Moralisat. Bibl_. 1474, Ulm, folio--copy purchased of M. Fischeim, at Munich, iii 154 LIBER PRECUM, _cum not. et cant_. MS. _pervet_. in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 71 ---- ---- MS. xvth century, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 131 _Liber Regum, seu Vita Davidis--block books_--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 331 _Life of Christ, block book_--in the Public Library at Munich, iii 134 _Littleton's Tenures, Lettou_, &c. folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 333 LIVIUS, MS. XVth century--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 298 ---- 1469, folio,--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 122 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Munich, iii 142 ---- 1470, _V. de Spira_, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 122 ---- ---- upon paper, in the same Library, ii 122 ---- ---- in the Library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 397 ---- 1472, _S. and Pann_., folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 123 _Lombardi Petri Sentent. (Eggesteyn)_, folio, in the Library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 399 _Lucanus_, 1469, folio--in the Public Library at Munich, iii 142 ---- 1475, folio, cum comment. Omniboni--in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 24 _Luciani Opera_, Gr. 1496, folio--fine copy, in the possession of M. Renouard, at Paris, ii 230 ---- ---- 1503, _Aldus_, folio--large paper copy, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 151 ---- ---- _Opusc. Quæd. Lat_. 1494--4to.--UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 311 _Lucretius_, 1486, folio--in the King's Private Collection at Stuttgart, iii 39 ---- _Aldus_, 1515, 8vo.--UPON VELLUM, (supposed to be unique) in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 146 _Luctus Christianorum, Jenson_, 4to.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 324 _Ludolphus Vita Christi (Eggesteyn)_, 1474, folio, in the Public Library at Nancy, ii 363 ---- ---- _De Terra Sancta_, &c. 4to.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 317 M. _Mabrian_, 1625, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 163 _Maguelone, La Belle_, 1492, _Trepperel_, 4to.--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 328 _Maius, de propriet. prisc. verb_. 1477. folio--_B. de Colonia_--in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 407 _Mammotrectus, Schoeffher_, 1470--folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 317 ---- ---- in the Library of Closterneuburg, iii 398 ---- ---- _H. de Helie_, 1470, folio--in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 181 MANDEVILLE, MS. _German_--in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 32 _Manilius_, 1474, folio,--in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 39 _Marco Polo, Germ_. 1477, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 329 _Marsilius Ficinus: In Dionysium Areopagitam_, no Date, folio, in the Library of Ste. Geneviève at Paris, ii 176 _Martialis_, 1475, folio--in the Library of a Capuchin Monastery, near Vienna, iii 403 ---- ---- _Aldus_, 1502, 8vo. two copies UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 146 MAYNI IASONIS EPITALAMION, MS. 4to.--in the Emperor's Private Library at Vienna, iii 387 _Mayster of Sentence, Caxton_, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 332 _Meinart, St. Life of, block book_: in the Public Library at Munich, iii 137 _Melusina, Historie von der, Germ_. no date, folio, in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 41 _Melusine, P. Le Noir_, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal ii 167 _Memoirs of the Transactions of the Society of Belles Lettres &c. at Rouen_, vol. i. page 49, of a _similar_ Society at Caen, i 185 _Messer Nobile Socio, Miserie de li Amante di_, 1533, 4to. in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 159 _Meurin Fils d'Oger, Paris, Bonfons_, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 167 _Milles et Amys, Verard_, no date, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 131 ---- ---- _Rouen_, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at ditto, ii 162 _Mirabilia Urbis Romæ, block book_,--in the Public Library at Munich, iii 137 MISSALE, MS. XIVth century, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 30 ---- ---- XVth century, two in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 31 ---- ---- of Charles the Bold, XVth century--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, with fac-simile, iii 292 ---- ---- XVth century,--in the Public Library at Munich, iii 129 ---- ---- 8vo.--belonging to Sigismund, King of Poland, in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 180 ---- _Herbipolense_ (1479), folio, UPON VELLUM, in the imperial Library at Vienna, iii 306 ---- ---- _Venet_. 1488, folio,--UPON VELLUM, in the Emperor's Private Collection at Vienna, iii 388 ---- _Pro. Patav. Eccl. Ritu_, 1494, folio, in the Library of a Capuchin Monastery, near Vienna, iii 403 ---- _Mozarabicum_, 1500, folio--with the Breviary 1502, in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 156 ---- ---- in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, ii 178 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 305 ---- _Parisiense_, 1522, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 156 _Missal of Henry IV_. XVIth century, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 81 _Missa Defunctorum, Viennæ_, 1499, folio, in the Library of a Capuchin Monastery, near Vienna, iii 403 _Montaigne's Essays_, 1635, folio, large paper, in the Library at Caen, i 212 _Monte Sancto di Dio_, 1477, folio,--in the Royal Library, at Paris, ii 134 _Monte Sancto di Dio_, 1477, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 324 _Moreri des Normans; par I.A. Guiat_, MS. in the Public Library at Caen, i 209 _Morgant le Géant_, 1650, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 164 _Mori Thomæ Opera, edit. Lovan_. 1566, folio, in the Library of the Lycée at Bayeux, i 245 _Munsteri Cosmographia_, 1556, folio, copy of, belonging to D. de Poictiers, in the Public Library at Caen, ii 214 _Mureti Disticha_, Lat. and Fr. _chap book_, at Vire, i 286 N. _Nanceidos Liber_, 1518, folio; copy of, with ms. notes of Bochart, in the Public Library at Caen, i 212 ---- ---- two copies of, one upon large paper, in the Public Library at Nancy, ii 362 ---- ---- one, UPON VELLUM, in the possession of Messrs. Payne and Foss, ii 362 _Nef des Folz du Monde_, Verard, no date, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 133 ---- ---- Printed by the same, UPON VELLUM, in the same library, ii 133 _Nef des Dames, Arnollet, à Lyon_, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 160 _Niger P., contra perfidos Judæos_, 1475, folio--in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 41 _Nonius Marcellus_, 1471, folio,--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 318 _Nova Statuta, Machlinia_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 125 _Novelas, por de Maria Zayas_, 1637, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 160 ---- _Amorosas_, 1624, 4to. in the same Library, ii 160 O. OFFICIUM B.M. VIRGINIS, MS., XVth century, in the Emperor's private collection at Vienna, iii 386 ---- ---- MS., XVIth century, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 129 OFFICIUM B.M. VIRGINIS, MS., in the same library, iii 130 _Ogier le Danois_, 1525, folio, in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 162 _Ovidii Opera Omnia, Azoguidi_, 1471, wanting two leaves, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 141 ---- _Fasti, Azoguidi_, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 312 ---- _Opera Omnia, S. and Pannartz_, 1471, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 312 ---- _Epistolæ et Fasti_, folio, in the same collection, iii 312 P. _Paris et Vienne, Paris_, no date, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 164 _Pentateuch, Hebr._ 1491, folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 111 _Petrarcha Sonetti_, 1470, Prince Eugene's copy in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 325 ---- ---- 1473, _Zarotus_, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 325 ---- ---- _Jenson_, 1473, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 325 ---- ---- _Comment. Borstii, Bologn_., 1475, folio, two copies in the Imperial Library at Vienna, of which one belonged to Prince Eugene, iii 325 ---- ---- _Bolog._, 1476, folio, (_Azoguidi_[178]) with the comment of Philelphus, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 25 ---- _Aldus_, 1501, 8vo., UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 147 ---- ---- 1514, 8vo., UPON VELLUM, in the possession of M. Renouard, bookseller, ii 229 ---- ---- 1521, 12mo., in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 41 ---- _Sonetti cum Comment. Velutelli_, 1546, 8vo., iii 41 ---- _Hist. Griseldis, Lat_., 1473, folio,--Prince Eugene's copy in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 318 _Phalaris Epist_., 1471, 4to., in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 318 ---- ---- _Ulric Han_, folio, in the same collection, iii 319 PHILOSTRATUS, _Lat_., MS., XVth century in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 297 _Pierre de Provence et la belle Maguelonne_, 1490, 4to. in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 165 _Pindarus, Gr_. 1502, _Aldi_, 12mo., in the Library of the Monastery of St. Florian, iii 237 _Plautus_, 1472, folio, edit. prin. in the Mazarine Library at Paris, ii 192 ---- 1522, _Aldus_, 4to., Grolier's copy, apparently _large paper_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 148 _Plinius Senior_, 1469, folio, one copy, UPON VELLUM, and another upon paper, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 120 ---- ---- in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, ii 174 ---- ---- UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 312 ---- ---- _Jenson_, 1472, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 120 ---- ---- _Jenson_, 1472, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 313 ---- ---- upon paper, in the Library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 398 ---- ---- _Ital_. 1476, _Jenson_, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 121 ---- ---- upon paper, in the same collection, ii 121 ---- ---- upon paper, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 313 _Plutarchi Vitæ; Parallellæ, Ital_., folio, Litt. R., in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 409 ---- ---- the same edition in the Monastic Library at Closterneuburg, iii 398 _Plutarchi Opuscula Moralia, Gr_, 1509, _Aldus_, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 137 _Poetæ Græci Principes, Gr_., 1556, folio, large paper, De Thou's copy in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 152 _Pogii Facetiæ, Monast. Euseb_., folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 319 ---- _Hist. Fiorent._, 1476, folio, UPON VELLUM and paper, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 325 POLYBIUS, _Gr_. MS., sec. XVI., Diane de Poictiers's copy, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 99 _Polybius, Lat., S. and Pannartz_, 1473, folio, in the Library of Closterneuburg Monastery, iii 398 PRAYER BOOK OF CHARLES THE BALD, Ill. MS. 4to, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 67 _Priscianus_, 1470, _V. de Spira_, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 139 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 319 ---- ---- _Ulric Han_, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 319 ----, _Aldus_, 1527, 8vo., Grolier's copy, upon large paper, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 148 ----, _Printed by V. de Spira_, UPON VELLUM, in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, ii 175 PSALTERIUM, MS., IXth century, of Charles the Bald; in the Public Library at Paris; ii 66 ---- ----, Sti. Ludovici, XIIIth century, in the same library, ii 68 ---- ----, XIth century, in the Public Library at Stuttgart iii 27 ---- ----, XIIth century, in the same Collection, iii 28 ---- ----, XIIth century, in the Royal Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 36 ---- ----, XIIth century, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 125 ---- ----, with most splendid illuminations, of the XVIth century, in the same library, iii 133 ---- ----, St. Austin, XVth century, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 33 ---- ---- _Latine_, 1457, _Fust and Schoeffher_, folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 104 ---- ----, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 306 _Psalterium Latine_, 1459, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 105 ---- ----, 1490, folio, _Schoeffher_, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 105 ---- ----, 1502, folio, _Schoeffher_, in the same library, -- 106 ---- ----, UPON VELLUM, _Printed by Schoeffher's Son_, 1516, folio, ii 106 ---- ----, without date--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 307 ---- ----, _Lips_. 1486, 4to.--in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 181 PTOLEMÆUS, _Lat_. MS. folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 85 ---- ---- MS. folio, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 59 ---- ----, 1462, folio, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 142 ---- ----, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 319 ---- ----, _Printed by Buckinck_, 1478, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 320 Q. _Quintilianus, I. de Lignam_, 1470, folio, in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, at Paris, ii 175 ---- ----, 1471, _Jenson_, folio, in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 431 R. _Ratdolt_, specimens of the types from his press, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 144 _Recueil des Histoires de Troye, printed by Caxton_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 102 ---- ---- _printed by Verard_, UPON VELLUM, in the same Library, ii 102 _Regnars, les, &c. Verard_, 4to. Prince Eugene's copy in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 329 _Regulæ, Confitend. peccata sua. Ital_., 1473, 4to., in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 326 _Repertorium Statut. Ord. Carth_. 1510, folio, in the Public Library at Caen, i 202 _Richard sans Peur, Janot, no date_, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 158 ---- _Bonfons, no date_, 4to., in the same library, ii 158 _Robert le Diable, Janot, no date_, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 158 _Romances, MS_., in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 88 ---- ----, _printed_, in the same Library, ii 131 ---- ----, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 407 ---- ----, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 126 _Ronsard_, 1584, folio, in the Public Library at Caen, i 212 ROSE, ROMAN DE LA, MS. XIVth century, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 95 ---- ---- MS. XIVth century, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 31 ---- ---- _Verard_, no date, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 131 _Rossei opus elegans, &c., Pynson_, 1523, 4to., the author's copy, afterwards that of Sir Thomas More, in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 183 S. SACRAMENTARIUM, SEU MISSA _Pap. Greg_., MS., VIth century, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 290 _Sanchez de Matrim. Sacram_., copy in the chapter Library at Bayeux, i. 244, in the Library of the Lycée at Bayeux, i 245 _Sannazarii Arcadia_, 1514, _Aldus_, 8vo., Grolier's copy, on large paper, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 148 _Sannazarius de partu Virginis, Aldi_, 1527, 12mo. in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 41 SCHAKZABEL, DER, MS. 1400 or 1450, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 32 _Séguin, Histore Militaire des Bocains_, quoted, i 300, 301, 302, _sur l'histoire de l'industrie du Bocage, en général, et de la ville de Vire sa capitale en particulière_, 1810, 8vo., i 303 _Servius in Virgilium_, see _Virgilius_. _Sforziada La_, 1480, folio, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 134 _Shyppe of Fools_, 1509, 8vo. _printed by W. Worde_, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 103 _SIBILÆ, &c_., MS., xvth century, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 127 _Silius Italicus, Laver_, 1471, folio, in the Mazarine Library at Paris, ii 193 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 313 ---- ---- _S. and Pannartz_, 1471, folio, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 313 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 26 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 332 _Spec. Hum, Salv_, 1476, folio, _printed by Richel_, in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 407 _Spec. Morale P. Bellovacensis_, 1476, folio, ii 405 ---- _Judiciale Durandus_, Printed by Hussner and Rekenhub, 1473, folio, ii 405 _Speculum Stultorum_, _no date_, 4to., in the Public Library at Caen, i 211 _Statius in usum Delphini_, 4to., two copies, in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 156 ---- ---- beautiful copy in the Library of Chremsminster monastery, iii 222 _Statutes of Richard III. Machlinia_, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 124 ---- ---- in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 41 _Stephani, H. Gloss. Græc_. 1573, &c., folio--_cum notis mss: Bocharti_, copy of, in the Public Library at Caen, i 211 _Successos y Prodigos de Amor_, 1626, 4to., in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 161 _Suetonius I. de Lignamine_, 1470, folio--in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, at Paris, ii 175 _Suetonius S. and Pannartz_, 1470, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 313 ---- _Jenson_, 1471, 4to.,--in the same collection, iii 313 ---- _Reisinger_, 4to.,--_without date_, in the private royal collection at Stuttgart, iii 39 _Suidas, Gr_., 1499, folio--Lambecius's copy, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 314 ---- 1503, folio, _Aldus_--large paper copy, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 151 _Sypperts de Vinevaulx, Paris, no date_, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 159 T. _Tacitus, I. de Spira_, folio, edit. prin. in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 24 ----, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 314 _Tasso, Gerusalemme Conquistata_, the author's autograph--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 300 _Terentius, Mentelin_, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 314 ----, _Ulric Han_, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 136 ----, _Reisinger_, folio--in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 23 _Testamentum Novum, Hollandicè et Russ_., 1717, folio, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 110 ---- ----, _Bohemice, Sec_. xv--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 307 ---- ----, _Græcè Erasmi_, in the King's Private Library at Stuttgart, iii 39 ---- ----, _R. Stephani_, 1550, folio--Diane de Poictiers's copy--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 150 _Tewrdanckhs_, 1517, folio--UPON VELLUM, in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, at Paris, ii 179 ---- ----, two copies of, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 147 _Tewrdanckhs_, 1517, folio, UPON VELLUM, two copies of, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 329 ---- ----, in the Library of the Monastery of St. Florian, iii 238 _Theophrastus_, 1497, Gr. _Aldus_,--Diane de Poictiers's copy, in the possession of M. Renouard at Paris, ii 231 _Thucydide, Gourmont_, folio, _Verard_--UPON VELLUM, in the Imperial Library at Vienna--Prince Eugene's copy, iii 330 TITE LIVE, MS. folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 86 _Tityrell and Pfartzival_, 1477, folio--in the Public Library at Landshut, iii 181 ---- ---- in the Library of the Monastery of St. Florian, iii 236 TOURNAMENTS, BOOK OF, MS. xvth century--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 95 ---- ---- duplicate and more recent copy of ii 99 _Tracts_, Printed by Pfister, at Bamberg, folio, ii 111 _Trebisond, Paris_, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris, ii 167 TRISTAN, MS. xivth century, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 91 ---- ----, another MS. in the same library, ii 91 ---- ----, a third MS. in the same library, ii 92 ---- _Gall_. Sec. XIII., in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 299 ---- ----, another MS. in the same Collection, iii 300 _Tristran, Verard_, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 330 _Trithemii Annales Hirsaugienses_, 1690, folio--in the Library of the Monastery of Chremsminster, iii 227 ---- ----, in the Library of a Capuchin Monastery, near Vienna, iii 403 _Troys filz de Roys_, Paris, no date, 4to.--in the Library of the Arsenal, ii 164 _Tully of Old Age, Caxton_--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 124 _Turrecremata I. de Meditationes, Ulric Han_, 1467, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 320 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Nuremberg, _Supplement_, iii 430 ---- ----, 1473, in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 307 V. VALERIUS MAXIMUS, MS. xvth century--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 298 ---- ---- _Mentelin_, folio--two copies in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 408 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 314 ---- ---- in the Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 24 ---- ---- 1475, _Coes & Stol_, folio--in the Public Library at Caen, i 208 ---- ---- _Aldus_, 1534, 8vo. Grolier's copy, on large paper, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 148 _Valturius De Re Militari_, 1472, folio--in the Imperial Library (Prince Eugene's copy) at Vienna, iii 321 _Vaudevires, Basselin_, 1811, i 212 -289 _Vie des Peres_, 1494, folio, at Caen, i 208 _Virgilius, S. & Pannartz_, (1469) folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 116 ---- ---- in the Public Library at Strasbourg--incomplete, ii 408 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 314 ---- 1470, _V. de Spira_, UPON VELLUM, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 117 ---- ---- upon paper, in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 117 ---- ---- in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 314 ---- 1471, _S. and Pannartz_, folio--in the Royal Library at Paris, iii 118 _Virgilius_, 1471, _S. and Pannartz_, late in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 23 ---- ---- 1471, _V. de Spira_, folio--in the Imperial Library at Vienna, iii 315 ---- ---- 1471, _Adam_, folio--late in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 23 ---- _Servius in Virgilium_. _Ulric Han_, folio--Diane de Poictiers's copy, in the Mazarine Library at Paris, ii 191 ---- ---- _Valdarfer_, 1471, folio--in the Public Library at Strasbourg, ii 408 ---- ---- 1478, _Gering_, 4to., in the Royal Library at Paris, ii 119 ---- _Aldus_, 1501, 8vo.--UPON VELLUM, in the Public Library at Munich, iii 146 ---- ---- 1505, 8vo.--in the possession of M. Renouard, bookseller, ii 230 ---- _S. and Pannartz_, (1469) folio--in the Library of Ste. Geneviève, ii 174 ---- _Gallicè_, 1582, folio--in the Public Library at Caen, i 212 VITÆ SANCTORUM, MS. Sec. XII.--in the Public Library at Stuttgart, iii 29 _Vitruvius Giuntæ_, 1513, 8vo.--UPON VELLUM, in the Library of Ste. Geneviève at Paris, ii 178 Vocabularius, Bechtermuntze, 1467, 4to. ii 115 U. _Utino, T. de, Sermones_, _printed by Gering_--in the Public Library at Vire, i 297 W. WILLIBROODI STI. VITA. AUCT. ALCUINO. MS. xith century, in the Private Royal Library at Stuttgart, iii 38 [178] In the page referred to, I have conjectured it to be printed by Ulric Han-or Reisinger. To these names I add the above. PRINTED BY WILLIAM NICOL, AT THE Shakspeare Press. 
17107	----	A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL _Antiquarian_ AND PICTURESQUE TOUR. PRINTED BY WILLIAM NICOL, AT THE Shakespeare Press. [Illustration: ANN OF BRITTANY. From an Illustrated Missal in the Royal Library at Paris.] London. Published June 1829. by R. Jennings. Poultry. A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL _Antiquarian_ AND PICTURESQUE TOUR IN FRANCE AND GERMANY. BY THE REVEREND THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN, D.D. MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY AT ROUEN, AND OF THE ACADEMY OF UTRECHT. SECOND EDITION. VOLUME II. DEI OMNIA PLENA. LONDON: PUBLISHED BY ROBERT JENNINGS, AND JOHN MAJOR. 1829. CONTENTS OF VOLUME II. CONTENTS. VOLUME II. LETTER I. PARIS. _The Boulevards. Public Buildings. Street Scenery. Fountains_. 1 LETTER II. _General Description of the Bibliothèque du Roi. The Librarians_. 42 LETTER III. _The same subject continued_. 64 LETTER IV. _The same subject continued_. 82 LETTER V. PARIS. _Some Account of the early printed and rare Books in the Royal Library_. 101 LETTER VI. _Conclusion of the Account of the Royal Library. The Library of the Arsenal_. 144 LETTER VII. _Library of Ste. Geneviève. The Abbé Mercier St. Léger. Library of the Mazarine College, or Institute. Private Library of the King. Mons. Barbier, Librarian_. 169 _Introduction to Letter VIII_. 209 LETTER VIII. _Some Account of the late Abbé Rive. Booksellers. Printers. Book Binders_. 214 LETTER IX. _Men of Letters. Dom Brial. The Abbé Bétencourt. Messrs. Gail, Millin, and Langlès. A Roxburghe Banquet_. 251 LETTER X. _The Collections of Denon, Quintin Craufurd, and the Marquis de Sommariva_. 279 LETTER XI. _Notice of M. Willemin's Monumens Français inédits. Miscellaneous Antiquities. Present State of the Fine Arts. General Observations upon the National Character_. 317 LETTER XII. _Paris to Strasbourg. Nancy_. 343 LETTER XIII. STRASBOURG. _Establishment of the Protestant Religion. The Cathedral. The Public Library_. 374 LETTER XIV. _Society. Environs of Strasbourg. Domestic Architecture. Manners and Customs. Literature. Language_. 413 [Illustration] _LETTER I._ PARIS. THE BOULEVARDS. PUBLIC BUILDINGS. STREET SCENERY. FOUNTAINS.[1] _Paris, June 18, 1818_. You are probably beginning to wonder at the tardiness of my promised Despatch, in which the architectural minutiæ of this City were to be somewhat systematically described. But, as I have told you towards the conclusion of my previous letter, it would be to very little purpose to conduct you over every inch of ground which had been trodden and described by a host of Tourists, and from which little of interest or of novelty could be imparted. Yet it seems to be absolutely incumbent upon me to say _something_ by way of local description. Perhaps the BOULEVARDS form the most interesting feature about Paris. I speak here of the _principal_ Boulevards:--of those, extending from _Ste. Madelaine_ to _St. Antoine_; which encircle nearly one half the capital. Either on foot, or in a carriage, they afford you singular gratification. A very broad road way, flanked by two rows of trees on each side, within which the population of Paris seems to be in incessant agitation--lofty houses, splendid shops, occasionally a retired mansion, with a parterre of blooming flowers in front--all manner of merchandize exposed in the open air--prints, muslins, _kaleidoscopes_, (they have just introduced them[2]) trinkets, and especially watch chains and strings of beads, spread in gay colours upon the ground--the undulations of the chaussée--and a bright blue sky above the green trees--all these things irresistibly rivet the attention and extort the admiration of a stranger. You may have your boots cleaned, and your breakfast prepared, upon these same boulevards. Felicitous junction of conveniences! This however is only a hasty sketch of what may be called a morning scene. AFTERNOON approaches: then, the innumerable chairs, which have been a long time unoccupied, are put into immediate requisition: then commences the "high exchange" of the loungers. One man hires two chairs, for which he pays two sous: he places his legs upon one of them; while his body, in a slanting position, occupies the other. The places, where these chairs are found, are usually flanked by coffee houses. Incessant reports from drawing the corks of beer bottles resound on all sides. The ordinary people are fond of this beverage; and for four or six sous they get a bottle of pleasant, refreshing, small beer. The draught is usually succeeded by a doze--in the open air. What is common, excites no surprise; and the stream of population rushes on without stopping one instant to notice these somniferous indulgences. Or, if they are not disposed to sleep, they sit and look about them: abstractedly gazing upon the multitude around, or at the heavens above. Pure, idle, unproductive listlessness is the necessary cause of such enjoyment. Evening approaches: when the Boulevards put on their gayest and most fascinating livery. Then commences the bustle of the _Ice Mart_: in other words, then commences the general demand for ices: while the rival and neighbouring _caffés_ of TORTONI and RICHE have their porches of entrance choked by the incessant ingress and egress of customers. The full moon shines beautifully above the foliage of the trees; and an equal number of customers, occupying chairs, sit without, and call for ices to be brought to them. Meanwhile, between these loungers, and the entrances to the caffés, move on, closely wedged, and yet scarcely in perceptible motion, the mass of human beings who come only to exercise their eyes, by turning them to the right or to the left: while, on the outside, upon the chaussée, are drawn up the carriages of visitors (chiefly English ladies) who prefer taking their ice within their closed morocco quarters. The varieties of ice are endless, but that of the _Vanille_ is justly a general favourite: not but that you may have coffee, chocolate, punch, peach, almond, and in short every species of gratification of this kind; while the glasses are filled to a great height, in a pyramidal shape, and some of them with layers of strawberry, gooseberry, and other coloured ice--looking like pieces of a Harlequin's jacket--are seen moving to and fro, to be silently and certainly devoured by those who bespeak them. Add to this, every one has his tumbler and small water-bottle by the side of him: in the centre of the bottle is a large piece of ice, and with a tumbler of water, poured out from it, the visitor usually concludes his repast. The most luxurious of these ices scarcely exceeds a shilling of our money; and the quantity is at least half as much again as you get at a certain well-known confectioner's in Piccadilly. It is getting towards MIDNIGHT; but the bustle and activity of the Boulevards have not yet much abated. Groups of musicians, ballad-singers, tumblers, actors, conjurors, slight-of-hand professors, and raree-shew men, have each their distinct audiences. You advance. A little girl with a raised turban (as usual, tastefully put on) seems to have no mercy either upon her own voice or upon the hurdy-gurdy on which she plays: her father shews his skill upon a violin, and the mother is equally active with the organ; after "a flourish"--not of "trumpets"--but of these instruments--the tumblers commence their operations. But a great crowd is collected to the right. What may this mean? All are silent; a ring is made, of which the boundaries are marked by small lighted candles stuck in pieces of clay. Within this circle stands a man--apparently strangled: both arms are extended, and his eyes are stretched to their utmost limits. You look more closely--and the hilt of a dagger is seen in his mouth, of which the blade is introduced into his stomach! He is almost breathless, and ready to faint--but he approaches, with the crown of a hat in one hand, into which he expects you should drop a sous. Having made his collection, he draws forth the dagger from its carnal sheath, and, making his bow, seems to anticipate the plaudits which invariably follow.[3] Or, he changes his plan of operations on the following evening. Instead of the dagger put down his throat, he introduces a piece of wire up one nostril, to descend by the other--and, thus self-tortured, demands the remuneration and the applause of his audience. In short, from one end of the Boulevards to the other, for nearly two English miles, there is nought but animation, good humour, and, it is right to add, good order;--while, having strolled as far as the Boulevards _de Bondy_, and watched the moon-beams sparkling in the waters which play there within the beautiful fountain so called,--I retread my steps, and seek the quiet quarters in which this epistle is penned. The next out-of-door sources of gratification, of importance, are the _Gardens of the Thuileries_, the _Champs Elysées_, and the promenade within the _Palais Royal_; in which latter plays a small, but, in my humble opinion, the most beautifully constructed fountain which Paris can boast of. Of this, presently. The former of these spots is rather pretty than picturesque: rather limited than extensive: a raised terrace to the left, on looking from the front of the Thuileries, is the only commanding situation--from which you observe the Seine, running with its green tint, and rapid current, to the left--while on the right you leisurely examine the rows of orange trees and statuary which give an imposing air of grandeur to the scene. At this season of the year, the fragrance of the blossoms of the orange trees is most delicious. The statues are of a colossal, and rather superior kind ... for garden decoration. There are pleasing vistas and wide gravel walks, and a fine evening usually fills them with crowds of Parisians. The palace is long, but rather too low and narrow; yet there is an air of elegance about it, which, with the immediately surrounding scenery, cannot fail to strike you very agreeably. The white flag of St. Louis floats upon the top of the central dome. The _Champs Elysées_ consist of extensive wooded walks; and a magnificent road divides them, which serves as the great attractive mall for carriages-- especially on Sundays--while, upon the grass, between the trees, on that day, appear knots of male and female citizens enjoying the waltz or quadrille. It is doubtless a most singular, and animated scene: the utmost order and good humour prevailing. The _Place Louis Quinze_, running at right angles with the Thuileries, and which is intersected in your route to the _Rue de la Paix_, is certainly a most magnificent front elevation; containing large and splendid houses, of elaborate exterior ornament. When completed, to the right, it will present an almost matchless front of domestic architecture, built upon the Grecian model. It was in this place, facing his own regal residence of the Thuileries, that the unfortunate Louis--surrounded by a ferocious and bloodthirsty mob--was butchered by the guillotine. Come back with me now into the very heart of Paris, and let us stroll within the area of the _Palais Royal_. You may remember that I spoke of a fountain, which played within the centre of this popular resort. The different branches, or _jets d'eau_, spring from a low, central point; and crossing each other in a variety of angles, and in the most pleasing manner of intersection, produce, altogether, the appearance of the blossom of a large flower: so silvery and transparent is the water, and so gracefully are its glassy petals disposed. Meanwhile, the rays of the sun, streaming down from above, produce a sort of stationary rainbow: and, in the heat of the day, as you sit upon the chairs, or saunter beneath the trees, the effect is both grateful and refreshing. The little flower garden, in the centre of which this fountain seems to be for ever playing, is a perfect model of neatness and tasteful disposition: not a weed dare intrude: and the earth seems always fresh and moist from the spray of the fountain-- while roses, jonquils, and hyacinths scatter their delicious fragrance around. For one minute only let us visit the _Caffé des Mille Colonnes_: so called (as you well know) from the number of upright mirrors and glasses which reflect the small columns by which the ceiling is supported. Brilliant and singular as is this effect, it is almost eclipsed by the appearance of the Mistress of the House; who, decorated with rich and rare gems, and seated upon a sort of elevated throne--uniting great comeliness and (as some think) beauty of person--receives both the homage and (what is doubtless preferable to her) the _francs_ of numerous customers and admirers. The "wealth of either Ind" sparkles upon her hand, or glitters upon her attire: and if the sun of her beauty be somewhat verging towards its declension, it sets with a glow which reminds her old acquaintance of the splendour of its noon-day power. It is yet a sharply contested point whether the ice of this house be preferable to that of Tortoni: a point, too intricate and momentous for my solution. "Non nostrum est ... tantas componere lites." Of the _Jardin des Plantes_, which I have once visited, but am not likely to revisit--owing to the extreme heat of the weather, and the distance of the spot from this place--scarcely too much can be said in commendation: whether we consider it as a _dépôt_ for live or dead animals, or as a school of study and instruction for the cultivators of natural history. The wild animals are kept, in their respective cages, out of doors, which is equally salutary for themselves and agreeable to their visitors. I was much struck by the perpetual motion of a huge, restless, black bear, who has left the marks of his footsteps by a concavity in the floor:--as well as by the panting, and apparently painful, inaction of an equally huge white or gray bear--who, nurtured upon beds of Greenland ice, seemed to be dying beneath the oppressive heat of a Parisian atmosphere. The same misery appeared to beset the bears who are confined, in an open space, below. They searched every where for shade; while a scorching sun was darting its vertical rays upon their heads. In the Museum of dead, or stuffed animals, you have every thing that is minute or magnificent in nature, from the creeping lizard to the towering giraffe, arranged systematically, and in a manner the most obvious and intelligible: while Cuvier's collection of fossil bones equally surprises and instructs you. It is worth all the _catacombs_ of all the capitals in the world. If we turn to the softer and more beauteous parts of creation, we are dazzled and bewildered by the radiance and variety of the tribes of vegetables--whether as fruits or flowers; and, upon the whole, this is an establishment which, in no age or country, hath been surpassed. It is not necessary to trouble you with much more of this strain. The out-of-door enjoyments in Paris are so well known, and have been so frequently described--and my objects of research being altogether of a very different complexion--you will not, I conclude, scold me if I cease to expatiate upon this topic, but direct your attention to others. Not however but that I think you may wish to know my sentiments about the principal ARCHITECTURAL BUILDINGS of Paris--as you are yourself not only a lover, but a judge, of these matters--and therefore the better qualified to criticise and correct the following remarks--which flow "au bout de la plume"--as Madame de Sévigné says. In the first place, then, let us stop a few minutes before the THUILERIES. It hath a beautiful front: beautiful from its lightness and airiness of effect. The small central dome is the only raised part in the long horizontal line of this extended building: not but what the extremities are raised in the old fashioned sloping manner: but if there had been a similar dome at each end, and that in the centre had been just double its present height, the effect, in my humble opinion, would have harmonised better with the extreme length of the building. It is very narrow; so much so, that the same room contains windows from which you may look on either side of the palace: upon the gardens to the west, or within the square to the east. Adjoining to the Thuileries is the LOUVRE: that is to say, a long range of building to the south, parallel with the Seine, connects these magnificent residences: and it is precisely along this extensive range that the celebrated _Gallery of the Louvre_ runs. The principal exterior front, or southern extremity of the Louvre, faces the Seine; and to my eye it is nearly faultless as a piece of architecture constructed upon Grecian and Roman models. But the interior is yet more splendid. I speak more particularly of the south and western fronts: that facing the north being more ancient, and containing female figure ornaments which are palpably of a disproportionate length. The Louvre quadrangle (if I may borrow our old college phrase) is assuredly the most splendid piece of ornamental architecture which Paris contains. The interior of the edifice itself is as yet in an unfinished condition;[4] but you must not conclude the examination of this glorious pile of building, without going round to visit the _eastern_ exterior front--looking towards Notre-Dame. Of all sides of the square, within or without, this colonnade front is doubtless the most perfect of its kind. It is less rich and crowded with ornament than any side of the interior--but it assumes one of the most elegant, airy, and perfectly proportionate aspects, of any which I am just now able to recollect. Perhaps the basement story, upon which this double columned colonnade of the Corinthian Order runs, is somewhat too plain--a sort of affectation of the rustic. The alto-relievo figures in the centre of the tympanum have a decisive and appropriate effect. The advantage both of the Thuileries and Louvre is, that they are well seen from the principal thoroughfares of Paris: that is to say, along the quays, and from the chief streets running from the more ancient parts on the south side of the Seine. The evil attending our own principal public edifices is, that they are generally constructed where they _cannot_ be seen to advantage. Supposing one of the principal entrances or malls of London, both for carriages and foot, to be on the _south_ side of the Thames, what could be more magnificent than the front of _Somerset House_, rising upon its hundred columns perpendicularly from the sides of a river... three times as broad as the Seine, with the majestic arches of _Waterloo Bridge!_--before which, however, the stupendous elevation of _St. Paul's_ and its correspondent bridge of _Black Friars_, could not fail to excite the wonder, and extort the praise, of the most anti-anglican stranger. And to crown the whole, how would the venerable nave and the towers of _Westminster Abbey_--with its peculiar bridge of Westminster ... give a finish to such a succession of architectural objects of metropolitan grandeur! Although in the very heart, of Parisian wonder, I cannot help, you see, carrying my imagination towards our own capital; and suggesting that, if, instead of furnaces, forges, and flickering flames--and correspondent clouds of dense smoke--which give to the southern side of the Thames the appearance of its being the abode of legions of blacksmiths, and glass and shot makers--we introduced a little of the good taste and good sense of our neighbours--and if ... But all this is mighty easily said--though not quite so easily put in practice. The truth however is, my dear friend, that we should _approximate_ a little towards each other. Let the Parisians attend somewhat more to our domestic comforts and commercial advantages--and let the Londoners sacrifice somewhat of their love of warehouses and manufactories--and then you will have hit the happy medium, which, in the metropolis of a great empire, would unite all the conveniences, with all the magnificence, of situation. Of other buildings, devoted to civil purposes, the CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES, the HÔTEL DES INVALIDES, with its gilded dome (a little too profusely adorned,) the INSTITUTE, and more particularly the MINT, are the chief ornaments on the south side of the Seine. In these I am not disposed to pick the least hole, by fastidious or hypercritical observations. Only I wish that they would contrive to let the lions, in front of the façade of the Institute, (sometimes called the _Collège Mazarin_ or _des Quatre Nations_--upon the whole, a magnificent pile) discharge a good large mouthful of water-- instead of the drivelling stream which is for ever trickling from their closed jaws. Nothing can be more ridiculous than the appearance of these meagre and unappropriate objects: the more to be condemned, because the French in general assume great credit for the management of their fountains. Of the four great buildings just noticed, that of the Mint, or rather its façade, pleases me most. It is a beautiful elevation, in pure good taste; but the stone is unfortunately of a coarse grain and of a dingy colour. Of the BRIDGES thrown across the Seine, connecting all the fine objects on either side, it must be allowed that they are generally in good taste: light, yet firm; but those, in iron, of Louis XVI. and _des Arts_, are perhaps to be preferred. The _Pont Neuf_, where the ancient part of Paris begins, is a large, long, clumsy piece of stone work: communicating with the island upon which _Notre Dame_ is built. But if you look eastward, towards old Paris, from the top of this bridge--or if you look in the same direction, a little towards the western side, or upon the quays,--you contemplate, in my humble opinion, one of the grandest views of street scenery that can be imagined! The houses are very lofty--occasionally of six or even eight stories--the material with which they are built is a fine cream-coloured stone: the two branches of the river, and the back ground afforded by _Notre Dame_, and a few other subordinate public buildings, altogether produce an effect--especially as you turn your back upon the sun, sinking low behind the _Barrière de Neuilly_--which would equally warm the hearts and exercise the pencils of the TURNERS and CALCOTS of our own shores. Indeed, I learn that the former distinguished artist has actually made a drawing of this picture. But let me add, that my own unqualified admiration had preceded the knowledge of this latter fact. Among other buildings, I must put in a word of praise in behalf of the HALLE-AUX-BLÉ'S--built after the model of the Pantheon at Rome. It is one hundred and twenty French feet in diameter; has twenty-five covered archways, or arcades, of ten feet in width; of which six are open, as passages of ingress and egress--corresponding with the like number of opposite streets. The present cupola (preceded by one almost as large as that of the Pantheon at Rome) is built of iron and brass--of a curious, light, and yet sufficiently substantial construction--and is unassailable by fire. I never passed through this building without seeing it well stocked with provender; while its area was filled with farmers, who, like our own, assemble to make the best bargain. Yet let me observe that, owing to the height of the neighbouring houses, this building loses almost the whole of its appropriate effect. Nor should the EXCHANGE, in the _Rue des Filles St. Thomas_, be dismissed without slight notice and commendation. It is equally simple, magnificent, and striking: composed of a single row, or peristyle, of Corinthian pillars, flanking a square of no mean dimensions, and presenting fourteen pillars in its principal front. At this present moment, it is not quite finished; but when completed, it promises to be among the most splendid and the most perfect specimens of public architecture in Paris.[5] Beautiful as many may think _our_ Exchange, in my humble opinion it has no pretensions to compete with that at Paris. The HÔTEL DE VILLE, near the _Place de Grève_, is rather in the character of the more ancient buildings in France: it is exceedingly picturesque, and presents a noble façade. Being situated amidst the older streets of Paris, nothing can harmonise better with the surrounding objects. Compared with the metropolis, on its present extended scale, it is hardly of sufficient importance for the consequence usually attached to this kind of building; but you must remember that the greater part of it was built in the sixteenth century, when the capital had scarcely attained half its present size. The _Place de Grève_ during the Revolution, was the spot in which the guillotine performed almost all its butcheries. I walked over it with a hurrying step: fancying the earth to be yet moist with the blood of so many immolated victims. Of other HÔTELS, I shall mention only those of DE SENS and DE SOUBISE. The entrance into the former yet exhibits a most picturesque specimen of the architecture of the early part of the XVIth century. Its interior is devoted to every thing ... which it ought _not_ to be. The Hôtel de Soubise is still a consequential building. It was sufficiently notorious during the reigns of Charles V. and VI.: and it owes its present form to the enterprising spirit of Cardinal Rohan, who purchased it of the Guise family towards the end of the XVIIth century. There is now, neither pomp nor splendour, nor revelry, within this vast building. All its aristocratic magnificence is fled; but the antiquary and the man of curious research console themselves on its possessing treasures of a more substantial and covetable kind. You are to know that it contains the _Archives of State_ and the _Royal Printing Office_. Paris has doubtless good reason to be proud of her public buildings; for they are numerous, splendid, and commodious; and have the extraordinary advantage over our own of not being tinted with soot and smoke. Indeed, when one thinks of the sure invasion of every new stone or brick building in London, by these enemies of external beauty, one is almost sick at heart during the work of erection. The lower tier of windows and columns round St. Paul's have been covered with the dirt and smoke of upwards of a century: and the fillagree-like embellishments which distinguish the recent restorations of Henry the VIIth's chapel, in Westminster Abbey, are already beginning to lose their delicacy of appearance from a similar cause. But I check myself. I am at Paris--and not in the metropolis of our own country. A word now for STREET SCENERY. Paris is perhaps here unrivalled: still I speak under correction--having never seen Edinburgh. But, although _portions_ of that northern capital, from its undulating or hilly site, must necessarily present more picturesque appearances, yet, upon the whole, from the superior size of Paris, there must be more numerous examples of the kind of scenery of which I am speaking. The specimens are endless. I select only a few--the more familiar to me. In turning to the left, from the _Boulevard Montmartre_ or _Poissonière_, and going towards the _Rue St. Marc_, or _Rue des Filles St. Thomas_ (as I have been in the habit of doing, almost every morning, for the last ten days--in my way to the Royal Library) you leave the _Rue Montmartre_ obliquely to the left. The houses here seem to run up to the sky; and appear to have been constructed with the same ease and facility as children build houses of cards. In every direction about this spot, the houses, built of stone, as they generally are, assume the most imposing and picturesque forms; and if a Canaletti resided here, who would condescend to paint without water and wherries, some really magnificent specimens of this species of composition might be executed--equally to the credit of the artist and the place. If you want old fashioned houses, you must lounge in the long and parallel streets of _St. Denis_ and _St. Martin_; but be sure that you choose dry weather for the excursion. Two hours of heavy rain (as I once witnessed) would cause a little rushing rivulet in the centre of these streets--and you could only pass from one side to the other by means of a plank. The absence of _trottoirs_--- or foot-pavement--is indeed here found to be a most grievous defect. With the exception of the _Place Vendome_ and the _Rue de la Paix_, where something like this sort of pavement prevails, Paris presents you with hardly any thing of the kind; so that, methinks, I hear you say, "what though your Paris be gayer and more grand, our London is larger and more commodious." Doubtless this is a fair criticism. But from the _Marché des Innocens_--a considerable space, where they sell chiefly fruit and vegetables,[6]--(and which reminded me something of the market-places of Rouen) towards the _Hôtel de Ville_ and the _Hôtel de Soubise_, you will meet with many extremely curious and interesting specimens of house and street scenery: while, as I before observed to you, the view of the houses and streets in the _Isle St. Louis_, from the _Pont des Ars_, the _Quai de Conti_, the _Pont Neuf_, or the _Quai des Augustins_--or, still better, the _Pont Royal_--is absolutely one of the grandest and completest specimens of metropolitan scenery which can be contemplated. Once more: go as far as the _Pont Louis XVI._, cast your eye down to the left; and observe how magnificently the Seine is flanked by the Thuileries and the Louvre. Surely, it is but a sense of justice and a love of truth which compel an impartial observer to say, that this is a view of regal and public splendor--without a parallel in our own country! The _Rue de Richelieu_ is called the Bond-street of Paris. Parallel with it, is the _Rue Vivienne_. They are both pleasant streets; especially the former, which is much longer, and is rendered more striking by containing some of the finest hotels in Paris. Hosiers, artificial flower makers, clock-makers, and jewellers, are the principal tradesmen in the Rue de Richelieu; but it has no similarity with Bond-street. The houses are of stone, and generally very lofty--while the _Academie de Musique_[7] and the _Bibliothèque du Roi_ are public buildings of such consequence and capacity (especially the former) that it is absurd to name the street in which they are situated with our own. The Rue Vivienne is comparatively short; but it is pleasing, from the number of flowers, shrubs, and fruits, brought thither from the public markets for sale. No doubt the _Place Vendome_ and the _Rue de la Paix_ claim precedence, on the score of magnificence and comfort, to either of these, or to any other streets; but to my taste there is nothing (next to the Boulevards) which is so thoroughly gratifying as the Rue de Richelieu. Is it because some few hundred thousand _printed volumes_ are deposited therein? But of all these, the _Rue St. Honoré_, with its faubourg so called, is doubtless the most distinguished and consequential. It seems to run from west to east entirely through Paris; and is considered, on the score of length, as more than a match for our Oxford street. It may be so; but if the houses are loftier, the street is much narrower; and where, again, is your foot-pavement--to protect you from the eternal movements of fiacre, cabriolet, voiture and diligence? Besides, the undulating line of our Oxford-street presents, to the tasteful observer, a sight--perfectly unrivalled of its kind--especially if it be witnessed on a clear night, when its thousand gas-lighted lamps below emulate the starry lustre of the heavens above! To an inexperienced eye, this has the effect of enchantment. Add to the houses of Oxford-street but two stories, and the appearance of this street, in the day time, would be equally imposing: to which add--what can never be added--the atmosphere of Paris! You will remark that, all this time, I have been wholly silent about the _Palace de Luxembourg_, with its beautiful though flat gardens--of tulips, jonquils, roses, wall flowers, lilac and orange trees--its broad and narrow walks--its terraces and statues. The façade, in a line with the _Rue Vaugirard_, has a grand effect--in every point of view. But the south front, facing the gardens, is extremely beautiful and magnificent; while across the gardens, and in front,--some short English mile--stands the OBSERVATORY. Yet fail not to visit the interior square of the palace, for it is well worth your notice and admiration. This building is now the _Chambre des Pairs_. Its most celebrated ornament was the famous suite of paintings, by Rubens, descriptive of the history of Henry IV. These now adorn the gallery of the Louvre. It is a pity that this very tasteful structure--which seems to be built of the choicest stone--should be so far removed from what may be called the fashionable part of the city. It is in consequence reluctantly visited by our countrymen; although a lover of botany, or a florist, will not fail to procure two or three roots of the different species of _tulips_, which, it is allowed, blow here in uncommon luxuriance and splendor. The preceding is, I am aware, but a feeble and partial sketch--compared with what a longer residence, and a temperature more favourable to exercise (for we are half scorched up with heat, positive and reflected)--would enable me to make. But "where are my favourite ECCLESIASTICAL EDIFICES?" methinks I hear you exclaim. Truly you shall know as much as I know myself; which is probably little enough. Of NOTRE-DAME, the west front, with its marygold window, is striking both from its antiquity and richness. It is almost black from age; but the alto-relievos, and especially those above the doors, stand out in almost perfect condition. These ornaments are rather fine of their kind. There is, throughout the whole of this west front, a beautiful keeping; and the towers are, _here_, somewhat more endurable--and therefore somewhat in harmony. Over the north-transept door, on the outside, is a figure of the Virgin--once holding the infant Jesus in her arms. Of the latter, only the feet remain. The drapery of this figure is in perfectly good taste: a fine specimen of that excellent art which prevailed towards the end of the XIIIth century. Above, is an alto-relievo subject of the slaughter of the Innocents. The soldiers are in quilted armour. I entered the cathedral from the western door, during service-time. A sight of the different clergymen engaged in the office, filled me with melancholy--and made me predict sad things of what was probably to come to pass! These clergymen were old, feeble, wretchedly attired in their respective vestments--and walked and sung in a tremulous and faltering manner. The architectural effect in the interior is not very imposing: although the solid circular pillars of the nave--the double aisles round the choir--and the old basso-relievo representations of the life of Christ, upon the exterior of the walls of the choir--cannot fail to afford an antiquary very singular satisfaction. The choir appeared to be not unlike that of St. Denis. The next Gothic church, in size and importance, is that of St. GERVAIS-- situated to the left, in the Rue de Monceau. It has a very lofty nave, but the interior is exceedingly flat and divested of ornament. The pillars have scarcely any capitals. The choir is totally destitute of effect. Some of the stained glass is rich and old, but a great deal has been stolen or demolished during the Revolution. There is a good large modern picture, in one of the side chapels to the right: and yet a more modern one, much inferior, on the opposite side. In almost every side chapel, and in the confessionals, the priests were busily engaged in the catechetical examination of young people previous to the first Communion on the following sabbath, which was the Fête-Dieu. The western front is wholly Grecian--perhaps about two hundred years old. It is too lofty for its width--but has a grand effect, and is justly much celebrated. Yet the _situation_ of this fine old Gothic church is among the most wretched of those in Paris. It is preserved from suffocation, only by holding it head so high. Next in importance to St. Gervais, is the Gothic church of St. EUSTACHE: a perfect specimen, throughout, of that adulterated style of Gothic architecture (called its _restoration!_) which prevailed at the commencement of the reign of Francis I. Faulty, and even meretricious, as is the whole of the interior, the choir will not fail to strike you with surprise and gratification. It is light, rich, and lofty. This church is very large, but not so capacious as St. Gervais--while situation is, if possible, still more objectionable. Let me not forget my two old favourite churches of ST. GERMAIN DES PRÈS, _and St. Geneviève_; although of the latter I hardly know whether a hasty glimpse, both of the exterior and interior, be not sufficient; the greater part having been destroyed during the Revolution.[8] The immediate vicinity of the former is sadly choaked by stalls and shops--and the west-front has been cruelly covered by modern appendages. It is the church dearest to antiquaries; and with reason.[9] I first visited it on a Sunday, when that part of the Service was performed which required the fullest intonations of the organ. The effect altogether was very striking. The singular pillars-- of which the capitals are equally massive and grotesque, being sometimes composed of human beings, and sometimes of birds and beasts, especially towards the choir--the rising up and sitting down of the congregation, and the yet more frequent movements of the priests--the swinging of the censers--and the parade of the vergers, dressed in bag wigs, with broad red sashes of silk, and silk stockings--but, above all, the most scientifically touched, as well as the deepest and loudest toned, organ I ever heard-- perfectly bewildered and amazed me! Upon the dispersion of the congregation--which very shortly followed this religious excitation--I had ample leisure to survey every part of this curious old structure; which reminded me, although upon a much larger scale, of the peculiarities of St. Georges de Bocherville, and Notre Dame at Guibray. Certainly, very much of this church is of the twelfth century--and as I am not writing to our friend P*** I will make bold to say that some portions of it yet "smack strongly" of the eleventh. Nearer to my residence, and of a kindred style of architecture, is the church of ST. GERMAIN AUX AUXERROIS. The west front or porch is yet sound and good. Nothing particularly strikes you on the entrance, but there are some interesting specimens of rich old stained glass in the windows of the transepts. The choir is completely and cruelly modernised. In the side chapels are several good modern paintings; and over an altar of twisted columns, round which ivy leaves, apparently composed of ivory, are creeping, is a picture of three figures in the flames of purgatory. This side-chapel is consecrated to the offering up of orisons "_for the souls in purgatory_." It is gloomy and repulsive. Death's heads and thigh bones are painted, in white colours, upon the stained wall; and in the midst of all these fearful devices, I saw three young ladies intensely occupied in their devotions at the railing facing the altar. Here again, I observed priests examining young people in their catechism; and others in confessionals, receiving the confessions of the young of both sexes, previous to their taking the first sacrament on the approaching _Fête-Dieu_. Contiguous to the Sorbonne church, there stands, raising its neatly constructed dome aloft in air, the _Nouvelle Eglise Ste. Geneviève_, better known by the name of the PANTHEON. The interior presents to my eye the most beautiful and perfect specimen of Grecian architecture with which I am acquainted. In the crypt are seen the tombs of French warriors; and upon the pavement above, is a white marble statue of General Leclerc (brother in law of Bonaparte,) who died in the expedition to St. Domingo. This, statue is too full of conceit and affectation both in attitude and expression. The interior of the building is about 370 English feet in length, by 270 in width; but it is said that the foundation is too weak. From the gallery, running along the bottom of the dome--the whole a miniature representation of our St. Paul's--you have a sort of Panorama of Paris; but not, I think, a very favourable one. The absence of sea-coal fume strikes you very agreeably; but, for picturesque effect, I could not help thinking of the superior beauty of the panorama of Rouen from the heights of Mont Ste. Catharine. It appears to me that the small lantern on the top of the dome wants a finishing apex.[10] Yonder majestic portico forms the west front of the church called St. SULPICE ... It is at once airy and grand. There are two tiers of pillars, of which this front is composed: the lower is Doric; the upper Ionic: and each row, as I am told, is nearly forty French feet in height, exclusively of their entablatures, each of ten feet. We have nothing like this, certainly, as the front of a parish church, in London. When I except St. Paul's, such exception is made in reference to the most majestic piece of architectural composition, which, to my eye, the wit of man hath yet devised. The architect of the magnificent front of St. Sulpice was SERVANDONI; and a street hard by (in which Dom Brial, the father of French history, resides) takes its name from this architect. There are two towers--one at each end of this front,--about two hundred and twenty feet in height from the pavement: harmonising well with the general style of architecture, but of which, that to the south (to the best of my recollection) is left in an unaccountably, if not shamefully, unfinished state.[11] These towers are said to be about one _toise_ higher than those of Notre Dame. The interior of this church is hardly less imposing than its exterior. The vaulted roofs are exceedingly lofty; but for the length of the nave, and more especially the choir, the transepts are disproportionably short. Nor are there sufficiently prominent ornaments to give relief to the massive appearance of the sides. These sides are decorated by fluted pilasters of the Corinthian order; which, for so large and lofty a building, have a tame effect. There is nothing like the huge, single, insulated column, or the clustered slim pilasters, that separate the nave from the side aisles of the Gothic churches of the early and middle ages. The principal altar, between the nave and the choir, is admired for its size, and grandeur of effect; but it is certainly ill-placed, and is perhaps too ornamental, looking like a detached piece which does not harmonise with the surrounding objects. Indeed, most of the altars in French churches want simplicity and appropriate effect: and the whole of the interior of the choir is (perhaps to my fastidious eye only,) destitute of that quiet solemn character, which ought always to belong to places of worship. Rich, minute, and elaborate as are many of the Gothic choirs of our own country, they are yet in harmony; and equally free from a frivolous or unappropriate effect. Behind the choir, is the Chapel of Our Lady: which is certainly both splendid and imposing. Upon the ceiling is represented the Assumption of the Virgin, and the walls are covered with a profusion of gilt ornament, which, upon the whole, has a very striking effect. In a recess, above the altar, is a sculptured representation of the Virgin and Infant Christ, in white marble, of a remarkably high polish: nor are the countenances of the mother and child divested of sweetness of expression. They are represented upon a large globe, or with the world at their feet: upon the top of which, slightly coiled, lies the "bruised" or dead serpent. The light, in front of the spectator, from a concealed window, (a contrivance to which the French seem partial) produces a sort of magical effect. I should add, that this is the largest parochial church in Paris; and that its organ has been pronounced to be matchless. The rival churches of St. Sulpice--rival ones, rather from similarity of structure, than extent of dimensions--are the ORATOIRE and St. ROCH: both situated in the Rue St. Honoré. St. Roch is doubtless a very fine building--with a well-proportioned front--and a noble flight of steps; but the interior is too plain and severe for my taste. The walls are decorated by unfluted pilasters, with capitals scarcely conformable to any one order of architecture. The choir however is lofty, and behind it, in Our Lady's Chapel if I remember rightly, there is a striking piece of sculpture, of the Crucifixion, sunk into a rock, which receives the light from an invisible aperture as at St. Sulpice. To the right, or rather behind this chapel, there is another--called the _Chapel of Calvary_,--in which you observe a celebrated piece of sculpture, of rather colossal dimensions, of the entombment of Christ. The dead Saviour is borne to the sepulchre by Joseph of Arimathea, St. John, and the three Maries. The name of the sculptor is _Deseine_. Certainly you cannot but be struck with the effect of such representations--which accounts for these two chapels being a great deal more attended, than the choir or the nave of the church. It is right however to add, that the pictures here are preferable to those at St. Sulpice: and the series of bas-reliefs, descriptive of the principal events in the life of Christ, is among the very best specimens of art, of that species, which Paris can boast of. Very different from either of these interiors is that of _St. Philippe du Roule_; which presents you with a single insulated row of fluted Ionic pillars, on each side of the nave; very airy, yet impressive and imposing. It is much to my taste; and I wish such a plan were more generally adopted in the interiors of Grecian-constructed churches. The choir, the altar ... the whole is extremely simple and elegant. Nor must the roof be omitted to be particularly mentioned. It is an arch, constructed of wood; upon a plan originally invented by Philibert Delorme--so well known in the annals of art in the sixteenth century. The whole is painted in stone colour, and may deceive the most experienced eye. This beautiful church was built after the designs of Chalgrin, about the year 1700; and is considered to be a purer resemblance of the antique than any other in Paris. This church, well worth your examination, is situated in a quarter rarely visited by our countrymen--in the _Rue du Faubourg du Roule_, not far from the barriers. Not very remotely connected with the topic of CHURCHES, is that of the SABBATHS ... as spent in Paris. They are nearly the same throughout all France. As Bonaparte had no respect for religion itself, so he had less for the forms connected with the upholding of it. Parades, battles, and campaigns--were all that he cared about: and the Parisians, if they supplied him with men and money--the _materiel_ for the execution of these objects--were left to pray, preach, dance, or work, just as they pleased on the Sabbath day. The present King,[12] as you well know, attempted the introduction of something like an _English Sabbath_: but it would not do. When the French read and understand GRAHAME[13] as well as they do THOMSON, they will peradventure lend a ready and helping hand towards the completion of this laudable plan. At present, there is much which hurts the eye and ear of a well-educated and well-principled Englishman. There is a partial shutting up of the shops before twelve; but after mid-day the shop-windows are uniformly closed throughout Paris. Meanwhile the cart, the cabriolet, the crier of herbs and of other marketable produce--the sound of the whip or of the carpenter's saw and hammer--the shelling of peas in the open air, and the plentiful strewing of the pod hard by--together with sundry, other offensive and littering accompaniments--all strike you as disagreeable deviations from what you have been accustomed to witness at home. Add to this, the half-dirty attire--the unshaven beard of the men, and the unkempt locks of the women--produce further revolting sensations. It is not till past mid-day that the noise of labour ceases, and that the toilette is put into a complete state for the captivation of the beholder. By four or five o'clock the streets become half thinned. On a Sunday, every body rushes into the country. The tradesman has his little villa, and the gentleman and man of fortune his more capacious rural domain; and those, who aspire neither to the one or the other, resort to the _Bois de Boulogne_ and the _Champs Elysées_, or to the gardens of _Beaujon_, and _Tivoli_--or to the yet more attractive magnificence of the palace and fountains of _Versailles_--where, in one or the other of these places, they carouse, or disport themselves--in promenades, or dancing groups--till ... Majores.. cadunt de montibus umbræ. This, generally and fairly speaking, is a summer Sabbath in the metropolis of France. Unconscionable as you may have deemed the length of this epistle, I must nevertheless extend it by the mention of what I conceive to be a very essential feature both of beauty and utility in the street scenery of Paris. It is of the FOUNTAINS that I am now about to speak; and of some of which a slight mention has been already made. I yet adhere to the preference given to that in the _Palais Royal_; considered with reference to the management of the water. It is indeed a purely aqueous exhibition, in which architecture and sculpture have nothing to do. Not so are the more imposing fountains of the MARCHÉ DES INNOCENS, DE GRENELLE, and the BOULEVARD BONDY. For the first of these,[14] the celebrated _Lescot_, abbé de Clagny, was the designer of the general form; and the more celebrated Jean Goujon the sculptor of the figures in bas-relief. It was re-touched and perfected in 1551, and originally stood in the angle of the two streets, of _aux Fers_ and _St. Denis_, presenting only two façades to the beholder. It was restored and beautified in 1708; and in 1788 it changed both its form and its position by being transported to the present spot-- the _Marché des Innocens_--the market for vegetables. Two other similar sides were then added, making it a square: but the original performances of Goujon, which are considered almost as his master-piece, attract infinitely more admiration than the more recent ones of Pajou. Goujon's figures are doubtless very delicately and successfully executed. The water bubbles up in the centre of the square, beneath the arch, in small sheets, or masses; and its first and second subsequent falls, also in sheets, have a very beautiful effect. They are like pieces of thin, transparent ice, tumbling upon each other; but the _lead_, of which the lower half of the fountain is composed--as the reservoir of the water--might have been advantageously exchanged for _marble_. The lion at each corner of the pedestal, squirting water into a sarcophagus-shaped reservoir, has a very absurd appearance. Upon the whole, this fountain is well deserving of particular attention. The inscription upon it is FONTIVM NYMPHIS; but perhaps, critically speaking, it is now in too exposed a situation for the character of it's ornaments. A retired, rural, umbrageous recess, beneath larch and pine-- whose boughs Wave high and murmur in the hollow wind-- seems to be the kind of position fitted for the reception of a fountain of this character. The FONTAINE DE GRENELLE is almost entirely architectural; and gives an idea of a public office, rather than of a conduit. You look above--to the right and the left--but no water appears. At last, almost by accident, you look down, quite at its base, and observe two insignificant streams trickling from the head of an animal. The central figure in front is a representation of the city of Paris: the recumbent figures, on each side, represent, the one the Seine, the other the Marne. Above, there are four figures which represent the four Seasons. This fountain, the work of Bouchardon, was erected in 1739 upon the site of what formed a part of an old convent. A more simple, and a more striking fountain, to my taste, is that of the ECOLE DE CHIRURGIE; in which a comparatively large column of water rushes down precipitously between two Doric pillars--which form the central ones of four--in an elegant façade. Yet more simple, more graceful, and more capacious, is the fountain of the BOULEVARD BONDY--which I first saw sparkling beneath the lustre of a full moon. This is, in every sense of the word, a fountain. A constant but gentle undulation of water, from three aqueous terraces, surmounted by three basins, gradually diminishing in size, strike you with peculiar gratification--view it from whatever quarter you will: but seen in the neighbourhood of _trees_, the effect, in weather like this, is absolutely heart-refreshing. The only objectionable part of this elegant structure, on the score of art, are the lions, and their positions. In the first place, it is difficult to comprehend why the mouth of a _lion_ is introduced as a channel for the transmission of water; and, in the second place, these lions should have occupied the basement portion of the structure. This beautiful fountain, of which the water is supplied by the _Canal d'Ourcq_, was finished only about seven or eight years ago. Nor let the FOUNTAIN OF TRIUMPH or VICTORY, in the _Place du Châtelet_, be forgotten. It is a column, surmounted by a gilt statue of Victory, with four figures towards its pedestal. The four jets-d'eau, from its base,--which are sufficiently insignificant--empty themselves into a circular basin; but the shaft of the column, to my eye, is not free from affectation. The names of some of Bonaparte's principal victories are inscribed upon that part of the column which faces the Pont au Change. There is a classical air of elegance about this fountain, which is fifty feet in height. But where is the ELEPHANT Fountain?--methinks I hear you exclaim. It is yet little more than in embryo: that is to say, the plaster-cast of it only is visible--with the model, on a smaller scale, completed in all its parts, by the side of it. It is really a stupendous affair.[15] On entering the temporary shed erected for its construction, on the site of the Bastille, I was almost breathless with astonishment for a moment. Imagine an enormous figure of the unwieldy elephant, _full fifty feet high!_ You see it, in the front, foreshortened--as you enter; and as the head is the bulkiest portion of the animal, you may imagine something of the probable resulting effect. Certainly it is most imposing. The visitor, who wishes to make himself acquainted with the older, and more original, national character of the French--whether as respects manners, dresses, domestic occupations, and public places of resort--will take up his residence in the _Rue du Bac_, or at the _Hotel des Bourbons_; within twenty minutes walk of the more curious objects which are to be found in the Quartiers Saint André des Arcs, du Luxembourg, and Saint Germain des Près. Ere he commence his morning perambulations, he will look well at his map, and to what is described, in the route which he is to take, in the works of Landon and of Legrand, or of other equally accurate topographers. Two things he ought invariably to bear in mind: the first, not to undertake too much, for the sake of saying how _many_ things he has seen:--and the second, to make himself thoroughly master of what he _does_ see. All this is very easily accomplished: and a fare of thirty sous will take you, at starting, to almost any part of Paris, however remote: from whence you may shape your course homewards at leisure, and with little fatigue. Such a visitor will, however, sigh, ere he set out on his journey, on being told that the old Gothic church of _St. André-des-Arcs_--the Abbey of _St. Victor_--the churches of the _Bernardins_, and of _St. Etienne des Près_, the _Cloisters_ of _the Cordeliers_, and the _Convent of the Celestins_ ... exist no longer ... or, that their remains are mere shadows of shades! But in the three quarters of Paris, above mentioned, he will gather much curious information--in spite of the havoc and waste which the Revolution has made; and on his return to his own country he will reflect, with pride and satisfaction, on the result of his enterprise and perseverance. To my whimsically formed taste, OLD PARIS has in it very much to delight, and afford valuable information. Not that I would decry the absolute splendor, gaiety, comfort, and interminable variety, which prevail in its more modern and fashionable quarters. And certainly one may fairly say, that, on either side the Seine, Paris is a city in which an Englishman,-- who is resolved to be in good humour with all about him, and to shew that civility to others which he is sure to receive from the better educated classes of society here--cannot fail to find himself pleased, perfectly at ease, and well contented with his fare. Compared with the older part of London, the more ancient division of Paris is infinitely more interesting, and of a finer architectural construction. The conical roofs every now and then remind you of the times of Francis I.; and the clustered arabesques, upon pilasters, or running between the bolder projections of the façades, confirm you in the chronology of the buildings. But time, caprice, fashion, or poverty, will, in less than half a century, materially change both the substance and surfaces of things. It is here, as at Rouen--you bewail the work of destruction which has oftentimes converted cloisters into workshops, and consecrated edifices into warehouses of every description. Human nature and the fate of human works are every where the same. Let two more centuries revolve, and the THUILERIES and the LOUVRE may possibly be as the BASTILLE and the TEMPLE. Such, to my feelings, is Paris--considered only with reference to its _local_: for I have really done little more than perambulate its streets, and survey its house-tops--with the important exceptions to be detailed in the succeeding letters from hence. Of the treasures contained _beneath_ some of those "housetops"--more especially of such as are found in the shape of a BOOK--whether as a MS. or a Printed Volume--prepare to receive some particulars in my next. [1] [Several Notes in this volume having reference to MONS. CRAPELET, a Printer of very considerable eminence at Paris, it may be proper to inform the Reader that that portion of this Tour, which may be said to have a more exclusive reference to France, usually speaking--including the notice of Strasbourg--was almost entirely translated by Mons. Crapelet himself. An exception however must be made to those parts which relate to the _King's Private Library_ at Paris, and to _Strasbourg_: these having been executed by different pens, evidently in the hands of individuals of less wrongheadedness and acrimony of feeling than the Parisian Printer. Mons. Crapelet has prefixed a Preface to his labours, in which he tells the world, that, using my more favourite metaphorical style of expression, "a CRUSADE has risen up against the INFIDEL DIBDIN." Metaphorical as may be this style, it is yet somewhat alarming: for, most assuredly, when I entered and quitted the "beau pays" of France, I had imagined myself to have been a courteous, a grateful, and, under all points of view, an ORTHODOX Visitor. It seems however, from the language of the French Typographer, that I acted under a gross delusion; and that it was necessary to have recourse to his sharp-set sickle to cut away all the tares which I had sown in the soil of his country. Upon the motive and the merit of his labours, I have already given my unbiassed opinion.[A] Here, it is only necessary to observe, that I have not, consciously, falsified his opinions, or undervalued his worth. Let the Reader judge between us. [A] Vide Preface. [2] [They have now entirely lost the recollection, as well as the sight, of them.] [3] ["The Parisians would doubtless very willingly get rid of such a horrid spectacle in the streets and places of the Metropolis: besides, it is not unattended with danger to the Actors themselves."--CRAPELET.] [4] ["And will continue to be so, it is feared--to the regret of all Frenchmen--for a long time. It is however the beginning of a new reign. The building of some new Edifices will doubtless be undertaken. But if the King were to order the _finishing_ of all the public Buildings of Paris, the epoch of the reign of Charles X. would assuredly be the most memorable for Arts, and the embellishment of the Capital." CRAPELET. 1825.] [5] [It is now completed: but seven years elapsed, after the above description, before the building was in all respects considered to be finished.] [6] [A most admirable view of this Market Place, with its picturesque fountain in the centre, was painted by the younger Mr. Chalon, and exhibited at Somerset House. A well executed _print_ of such a thoroughly characteristic performance might, one would imagine, sell prosperously on either side of the channel.] [7] [This building, which may perhaps be better known as that of the _Opera_, is now rased to the ground--in consequence of the assassination of the Duke de Berri there, in February, 1820, on his stepping into his carriage on quitting the Opera. But five years were suffered to elapse before the work of demolition was quite completed. And when will the monument to the Duke's memory be raised?--CRAPELET.] [8] [It is now entirely demolished, to make way for a large and commodious Street which gives a complete view of the church of St. Stephen. CRAPELET.] [9] The views of it, as it appeared in the XVIth century, represent it nearly surrounded by a wall and a moat. It takes its name as having been originally situated _in the fields_. [10] [Two years ago was placed, upon the top of this small lantern, a gilt cross, thirty-eight feet high: 41 of English measurement: and the church has been consecrated to the Catholic service. CRAPELET. Thus, the criticism of an English traveller, in 1818, was not entirely void of foundation.] [11] [Our public buildings, which have continued long in an unfinished state, strike the eyes of foreigners more vividly than they do our own: but it is impossible to face the front of St. Sulpice without partaking of the sentiment of the author. CRAPELET.] [12] [Louis XVIII.] [13] [_read and understand_ GRAHAME.]--Mr. Grahame is both a very readable and understandable author. He has reason to be proud of his poem called the SABBATH: for it is one of the sweetest and one of the purest of modern times. His _scene_ however is laid in the country, and not in the metropolis. The very opening of this poem refreshes the heart--and prepares us for the more edifying portions of it, connected with the performance of the religious offices of our country. This beautiful work will LIVE as long as sensibility, and taste, and a virtuous feeling, shall possess the bosoms of a British Public. [14] See the note p. 20, ante. [15] It is now completed. _LETTER II._ GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF THE BIBLIOTHÈQUE DU ROI. THE LIBRARIANS. _Hôtel des Colonies, Rue de Richelieu_. The moment is at length arrived when you are to receive from me an account of some of the principal treasures contained in the ROYAL LIBRARY of Paris. I say "_some_":--because, in an epistolary communication, consistently with my time, and general objects of research--it must be considered only as a slight selection, compared with what a longer residence, and a more general examination of the contents of such a collection, might furnish. Yet, limited as my view may have been, the objects of that view are at once rich and rare, and likely to afford all true sons of BIBLIOMANIA and VIRTU the most lively gratification. This is a bold avowal: but I fear not to make it, and: the sequel shall be the test of its modesty and truth. You observe, I have dated my letter from a different quarter. In fact, the distance of my former residence from the Bibliothèque du Roi--coupled with the oppressive heat of the weather--rendered my morning excursions thither rather uncomfortable; and instead of going to work with elastic spirits, and an untired frame, both Mr. Lewis and myself felt jaded and oppressed upon our arrival. We are now, on the contrary, scarcely fifty yards from the grand door of entrance into the library. But this is only tantalizing you. To the LIBRARY, therefore, at once let us go. The exterior and interior, as to architectural appearance, are rather of a sorry description: heavy; comparatively low, without ornament, and of a dark and dingy tint. Towards the street, it has the melancholy air of a workhouse. But none of the apartments, in which the books are contained, look into this street; so that, consequently, little inconvenience is experienced from the incessant motion and rattling of carts and carriages--the Rue de Richelieu being probably the most frequented in Paris. Yet, repulsive as may be this exterior, it was observed to me--on my suggesting what a fine situation the quadrangle of the Louvre would make for the reception of the royal library--that, it might be questioned whether even _that_ quadrangle were large enough to contain it;--and that the present building, however heavy and ungracious of aspect, was better calculated for its present purpose than probably any other in Paris. In the centre of the edifice--for it is a square, or rather a parallelogram-shaped building--stands a bronze naked figure of Diana; stiff and meagre both in design and execution. It is of the size of life; but surely a statue of _Minerva_ would have been a little more appropriate? On entering the principal door, in the street just mentioned, you turn to the right, and mount a large stone staircase--after attending to the request, printed in large characters, of "_Essuyez vos Souliers_"--as fixed against the wall. This entrance goes directly to the collection of PRINTED BOOKS. On reaching the first floor, you go straight forward, within folding doors; and the first room, of considerable extent, immediately receives you. The light is uniformly admitted by large windows, to the right, looking into the quadrangle before mentioned. You pass through this room--where scarcely any body lingers--and enter the second, where are placed the EDITIONES PRINCIPES, and other volumes printed in the fifteenth century. To an _experienced_ eye, the first view of the contents of this second room is absolutely magical; Such copies of such rare, precious, magnificent, and long-sought after impressions!... It is fairy-land throughout. There stands the _first Homer_, unshorn by the binder; a little above, is the first _Roman edition of Eustathius's_ Commentary upon that poet, in gorgeous red morocco, but printed UPON VELLUM! A Budæus _Greek Lexicon_ (Francis I.'s own copy) also UPON VELLUM! The _Virgils, Ovids, Plinies_ ... and, above all, the _Bibles_--But I check myself; in order to conduct you regularly through the apartments, ere you sit down with me before each volume which I may open. In this second-room are two small tables, rarely occupied, but at one or the other of which I was stationed (by the kind offices of M. Van Praet) for fourteen days--with almost every thing that was exquisite and rare, in the old book-way, behind and before me. Let us however gradually move onwards. You pass into the third room. Here is the grand rendezvous of readers. Six circular or rather oval tables, each capable of accommodating twelve students, and each generally occupied by the full number, strike your eye in a very pleasing manner, in the centre of this apparently interminable vista of printed volumes. But I must call your particular attention to the _foreground_ of this magical book-view. To the left of this third room, on entering, you observe a well-dressed Gentleman (of somewhat shorter stature than the author of this description) busied behind a table; taking down and putting up volumes: inscribing names, and numbers, and titles, in a large folio volume; giving orders on all sides; and putting several pairs of legs into motion in consequence of those orders--while his own are perhaps the least spared of any. This gentleman is no less a personage than the celebrated Monsieur VAN PRAET; one of the chief librarians in the department of the printed books. His aspect is mild and pleasant; while his smart attire frequently forms a striking contrast to habiliments and personal appearances of a very different, and less conciliating description, by which he is surrounded.[16] M. Van Praet must be now approaching his sixtieth year; but his age sits bravely upon him--for his step is rapid and firm, and his physiognomical expression indicative of a much less protracted period of existence.[17] He is a Fleming by birth; and, even in shewing his first Eustathius, or first Pliny, UPON VELLUM, you may observe the natural enthusiasm of a Frenchman tempered by the graver emotions of a native of the Netherlands. This distinguished Bibliographer (of whom, somewhat more in a future epistle) has now continued nearly forty years in his present situation; and when infirmity, or other causes, shall compel him to quit it, France will never replace him by one possessing more appropriate talents! He doats upon the objects committed to his trust. He lives almost entirely among his dear books ... either on the first floor or on the ground floor: for when the hour of departure, two o'clock, arrives, M. Van Praet betakes him to the quieter book realms below--where, surrounded by _Grolier, De Thou_, and _Diane de Poictiers_, copies, he disports him till his dinner hour of four or five--and 'as the evening shades prevail,' away hies he to his favourite '_Théatre des Italiens_,' and the scientific treat of Italian music. This I know, however--and this I will say--in regard to the amiable and excellent gentleman under description--that, if I were King of France, Mons. Van Praet should be desired to sit in a roomy, morocco-bottomed, mahogany arm chair--not to stir therefrom--but to issue out his edicts, for the delivery of books, to the several athletic myrmidons under his command. Of course there must be occasional exceptions to this rigid, but upon the whole salutary, "Ordonnance du Roy." Indeed I have reason to mention a most flattering exception to it--in my own favour: for M. Van Praet would come into the second room, (just mentioned) and with his own hands supply me with half a score volumes at a time--of such as I wished to examine. But, generally speaking, this worthy and obliging creature is too lavish of his own personal exertions. He knows, to be sure, all the bye-passes, and abrupt ascents and descents; and if he be out of sight--in a moment, through some secret aperture, he returns as quickly through another equally unseen passage. Upon an average, I set his bibliomaniacal peregrinations down at the rate of a full French league per day. It is the absence of all pretension and quackery--the quiet, unobtrusive manner in which he opens his well-charged battery of information upon you--but, more than all, the glorious honours which are due to him, for having assisted to rescue the book treasures of the Abbey of St. Germain des Près from destruction, during the horrors of the Revolution--that cannot fail to secure to him the esteem of the living, and the gratitude of posterity. [Illustration: GOLD MEDAL OF LOUIS XII. From the Cabinet des Medailles at Paris.] We must now leave this well occupied and richly furnished chamber, and pass on to the fourth room--in the centre of which is a large raised bronze ornament, representing Apollo and the Muses--surrounded by the more eminent literary characters of France in the seventeenth century. It is raised to the glory of the grand monarque Louis XIV. and the figure of Apollo is intended for that of his Majesty. The whole is a palpable failure: a glaring exhibition of bad French taste. Pegasus, the Muses, rocks, and streams, are all scattered about in a very confused manner; without connection, and of course without effect. Even the French allow it to be "mesquin, et de mauvais goût." But let me be methodical. As you enter this fourth room, you observe, opposite--before you turn to the right--a door, having the inscription of CABINET DES MEDAILLES. This door however is open only twice in the week; when the cabinet is freely and most conveniently shewn. Of its contents--in part, precious beyond comparison--this is the place to say only one little word or two: for really there would be no end of detail were I to describe even its most remarkable treasures. Francis I. and his son Henry II. were among its earliest patrons; when the cabinet was deposited in the Louvre. The former enriched it with a series of valuable gold medals, and among them with one of Louis XII., his predecessor; which has not only the distinction of being beautifully executed, but of being the largest, if not the first of its kind in France.[18] The specimens of Greek art, in coins, and other small productions, are equally precious and select. Vases, shields, gems, and cameos--the greater part of which are described in Caylus's well-known work--are perfectly enchanting. But the famous AGAT of the STE. CHAPELLE--supposed to be the largest in the world, and which has been engraved by Giradet in a manner perfectly unrivalled--will not fail to rivet your attention, and claim your most unqualified commendation. The sardonyx, called the VASE of PTOLEMY, is another of the great objects of attraction in the room where we are now tarrying--and beautiful, and curious, and precious, it unquestionably is. Doubtless, in such a chamber as this, the classical archæologist will gaze with no ordinary emotions, and meditate with no ordinary satisfaction. But I think I hear the wish escape him--as he casts an attentive eye over the whole--"why do they not imitate us in a publication relating to them? Why do they not put forth something similar to what we have done for our _Museum Marbles_? Or rather, speaking more correctly, why are not the _Marlborough Gems_ considered as an object of rivalry, by the curators of this exquisite cabinet? Paris is not wanting both in artists who design, and who engrave, in this department, with at least equal skill to our own."[19] Let us now return to the Books. In the fourth book-room there is an opening in the centre, to the left, nearly facing the bronze ornament--through which, as you enter, and look to the left, appear the upper halves of two enormous GLOBES. The effect is at first, inconceivably puzzling and even startling: but you advance, and looking down the huge aperture occasioned by these gigantic globes, you observe their bases resting on the ground floor: both the upper and ground floor having the wainscots entirely covered by books. These globes are the performance of Vincent Coronelli, a Venetian; and were presented to Louis XIV. by the Cardinal d'Etrées, who had them made for his Majesty. You return back into the fourth room--pace on to its extremity, and then, at right angles, view the fifth room--or, comprising the upper and lower globe rooms, a seventh room; the whole admirably well lighted up from large side windows. Observe further--the whole corresponding suite of rooms, on the ground floor, is also nearly filled with printed books, comprising the _unbound copies_--and one chamber, occupied by the more exquisite specimens of the presses of the _Alduses_, the _Giuntæ_, the _Stephens_, &c. UPON VELLUM, or on _large paper_. Another chamber is exclusively devoted to large paper copies of _all_ descriptions, from the presses of all countries; and in one or the other of these chambers are deposited the volumes from the Library of _Grolier_ and _De Thou_--names, dear to Book-Collectors; as an indifferent copy has hardly ever yet been found which was once deposited on the shelves of either. You should know that the public do not visit this lower suite of rooms, it being open only to the particular friends of the several Librarians. The measurement of these rooms, from the entrance to the extremity of the fifth room, is upwards of 700 feet. Now, my good friend, if you ask me whether the interior of this library be superior to that of our dear BODLEIAN, I answer, at once, and without fear of contradiction--it is very much _inferior_. It represents an interminable range of homely and commodious apartments; but the Bodleian library, from beginning to end--from floor to ceiling--is grand, impressive, and entirely of a bookish appearance. In that spacious and lofty receptacle--of which the ceiling, in my humble opinion, is an unique and beautiful piece of workmanship--all is solemn, and grave, and inviting to study: yet echoing, as it were, to the footsteps of those who once meditated within its almost hallowed precincts--the _Bodleys_, the _Seldens_, the _Digbys_, the _Lauds_ and _Tanners_, of other times![20] But I am dreaming: forgetting that, at this moment, you are impatient to enter the _MS. Department_ of the Royal Library at Paris. Be it so, therefore. And yet the very approach to this invaluable collection is difficult of discovery. Instead of a corresponding lofty stone stair-case, you cross a corner of the square, and enter a passage, with an iron gate at the extremity--leading to the apartments of Messrs. Millin and Langlès. A narrow staircase, to the right, receives you: and this stair-case would appear to lead rather to an old armoury, in a corner-tower of some baronial castle, than to a suite of large modern apartments, containing probably, upon the whole, the finest collection of _Engravings_ and of _Manuscripts_, of all ages and characters, in Europe. Nevertheless, as we cannot mount by any other means, we will e'en set footing upon this stair-case, humble and obscure as it may be. You scarcely gain the height of some twenty steps, when you observe the magical inscription of CABINET DES ESTAMPES. Your spirits dance, and your eyes sparkle, as you pull the little wire--and hear the clink of a small corresponding bell. The door is opened by one of the attendants in livery-- arrayed in blue and silver and red--very handsome, and rendered more attractive by the respectful behaviour of those who wear that royal costume. I forgot to say that the same kind of attendants are found in all the apartments attached to this magnificent collection--and, when not occupied in their particular vocation of carrying books to and fro, these attendants are engaged in reading, or sitting quietly with crossed legs, and peradventure dosing a little. But nothing can exceed their civility; accompanied with a certain air of politeness, not altogether divested of a kind of gentlemanly deportment. On entering the first of those rooms, where the prints are kept, you are immediately struck with the narrow dimensions of the place--for the succeeding room, though perhaps more than twice as large, is still inadequate to the reception of its numerous visitors.[21] In this first room you observe a few of the very choicest productions of the burin, from the earliest periods of the art, to the more recent performances of _Desnoyer_, displayed within glazed frames upon the wainscot. It really makes the heart of a connoisseur leap with ecstacy to see such _Finiguerras, Baldinis, Boticellis, Mantegnas, Pollaiuolos, Israel Van Meckens, Albert Durers, Marc Antonios, Rembrandts, Hollar, Nanteuils, Edelincks, &c._; while specimens of our own great master engravers, among whom are _Woollet_ and _Sharp_, maintain a conspicuous situation, and add to the gratification of the beholder. The idea is a good one; but to carry it into complete effect, there should be a gallery, fifty feet long, of a confined width, and lighted from above:[22] whereas the present room is scarcely twenty feet square, with a disproportionably low ceiling. However, you cannot fail to be highly gratified--and onwards you go--diagonally--and find yourself in a comparatively long room--in the midst of which is a table, reaching from nearly one end to the other, and entirely filled (every day) with visitors, or rather students--busied each in their several pursuits. Some are quietly turning over the succeeding leaves, on which the prints are pasted: others are pausing upon each fine specimen, in silent ecstacy--checking themselves every instant lest they should break forth into rapturous exclamations!... "silence" being rigidly prescribed by the Curators--and, I must say, as rigidly maintained. Others again are busied in deep critical examination of some ancient ruin from the pages of _Piranesi_ or of _Montfaucon_--now making notes, and now copying particular parts. Meanwhile, from the top to the bottom of the sides of the, room, are huge volumes of prints, bound in red morocco; which form indeed the materials for the occupations just described.[23] But, hanging upon a pillar, at the hither end of this second room, you observe a large old drawing of a head or portrait, in a glazed frame; which strikes you in every respect as a great curiosity. M. Du Chesne, the obliging and able director of this department of the collection, attended me on my first visit. He saw me looking at this head with great eagerness. "Enfin voilà quelque chose qui mérite bien vôtre attention"--observed he. It was in fact the portrait of "their good but unfortunate KING JOHN"--as my guide designated him. This Drawing is executed in a sort of thick body colour, upon fine linen: the back-ground is gold: now almost entirely tarnished--and there is a sort of frame, stamped, or pricked out, upon the surface of the gold--as we see in the illuminations of books of that period. It should also seem as if the first layer, upon which the gold is placed, had been composed of the white of an egg--or of some such glutinous substance. Upon the whole, it is an exceedingly curious and interesting relic of antient graphic art. To examine minutely the treasures of such a collection of prints--whether in regard to ancient or modern art--would demand the unremitted attention of the better part of a month; and in consequence, a proportionate quantity of time and paper in embodying the fruits of that attention.[24] There is only one other curiosity, just now, to which I shall call your attention. It is the old wood cut of ST. CHRISTOPHER--of which certain authors have discoursed largely.[25] They suppose they have an impression of it here-- whereas that of Lord Spencer has been hitherto considered as unique. His Lordship's copy, as you well know, was obtained from the Buxheim monastery, and was first made public in the interesting work of Heineken.[26] The copy now under consideration is not pasted upon boards, as is Lord Spencer's-- forming the interior linings in the cover or binding of an old MS.--but it is a loose leaf, and is therefore subject to the most minute examination, or to any conclusion respecting the date which may be drawn from the _watermark_. Upon _such_ a foundation I will never attempt to build an hypothesis, or to draw a conclusion; because the same water-mark of Bamberg and of Mentz, of Venice and of Rome, may be found within books printed both at the commencement and at the end of the fifteenth century. But for the print--as it _is_. I have not only examined it carefully, but have procured, from M. Coeuré, a fac-simile of the head only--the most essential part--and both the examination and the fac-simile convince me... that the St. Christopher in the Bibliothèque du Roi is NOT an impression from the _same block_ which furnished the St. Christopher now in the library of St. James's Place. The general character of the figure, in the Royal Library here, is thin and feeble compared with that in Lord Spencer's collection; and I am quite persuaded that M. Du Chesne,--who fights his ground inch by inch, and reluctantly (to his honour, let me add) assents to any remarks which may make his own cherished St. Christopher of a comparatively modern date-- will, in the end, admit that the Parisian impression is a _copy_ of a later date--and that, had an opportunity presented itself of comparing the two impressions with each other,[27] it would never have been received into the Library at the price at which it was obtained--I think, at about 620 francs. However, although it be not THE St. Christopher, it is a graphic representation of the Saint which may possibly be as old as the year 1460. But we have tarried quite long enough, for the present, within the cabinet of Engravings. Let us return: ascend about a dozen more steps; and enter the LIBRARY OF MANUSCRIPTS. As before, you are struck with the smallness of the first room; which leads, however, to a second of much larger dimensions--then to a third, of a boudoir character; afterwards to a fourth and fifth, rather straitened--and sixthly, and lastly, to one of a noble length and elevation of ceiling--worthy in all respects of the glorious treasures which it contains. Let me, however, be more explicit. In the very first room you have an earnest of all the bibliomaniacal felicity which these MSS. hold out. Look to the left--upon entering--and view, perhaps lost in a very ecstacy of admiration--the _Romances_ ... of all sizes and character, which at first strike you! What _Launcelot du Lacs, Tristans, Leonnois, Arturs, Ysaises_, and feats of the _Table Ronde_, stand closely wedged within the brass-wired doors that incircle this and every other apartment! _Bibles, Rituals, Moralities_, ... next claim your attention. You go on--_History, Philosophy, Arts and Sciences_ ... but it is useless to indulge in these rhapsodies. The fourth apartment, of which I spake, exhibits specimens of what are seen more plentifully, but not of more curious workmanship, in the larger room to which it leads. Here glitter, behind glazed doors, old volumes of devotion bound in ivory, or gilt, or brass, studded with cameos and precious stones; and covered with figures of all characters and ages--some of the XIIth--and more of the immediately following centuries. Some of these bindings (among which I include _Diptychs_) may be as old as the eleventh--and they have been even carried up to the tenth century. Let us however return quickly back again; and begin at the beginning. The first room, as I before observed, has some of the most exquisitely illuminated, as well as some of the most ancient MSS., in the whole library. A phalanx of _Romances_ meets the eye; which rather provokes the courage, than damps the ardor, of the bibliographical champion. Nor are the illuminated _Bibles_ of less interest to the graphic antiquary. In my next letter you shall see what use I have made of the unrestrained liberty granted me, by the kind-hearted Curators, to open what doors, and examine what volumes, I pleased. Meanwhile let me introduce you to the excellent MONSIEUR GAIL, who is sitting at yonder desk--examining a beautiful Greek MS. of Polybius, which once belonged to Henry II. and his favourite Diane de Poictiers. M. Gail is the chief Librarian presiding over the Greek and Latin MSS., and is himself Professor of the Greek language in the royal college of France. Of this gentleman I shall speak more particularly anon. At the present moment it may suffice only to observe that he is thoroughly frank, amiable, and communicative, and dexterous in his particular vocation: and that he is, what we should both call, a hearty, good fellow-- a natural character. M. Gail is accompanied by the assistant librarians MM. De. l'EPINE, and MÉON: gentlemen of equal ability in their particular department, and at all times willing to aid and abet the researches of those who come to examine and appreciate the treasures of which they are the joint Curators. Indeed I cannot speak too highly of these gentlemen-- nor can I too much admire the system and the silence which uniformly prevail. Another principal librarian is M. LANGLÈS:[28] an author of equal reputation with Monsieur Gail--but his strength lies in Oriental literature; and he presides more especially over the Persian, Arabic, and other Oriental MSS. To the naïveté of M. Gail, he adds the peculiar vivacity and enthusiasm of his countrymen. To see him presiding in his chair (for he and M. Gail take alternate turns) and occupied in reading, you would think that a book worm could scarcely creep between the tip of his nose and the surface of the _Codex Bombycinus_ over which he is poring. He is among the most short-sighted of mortals--as to _ocular_ vision. But he has a bravely furnished mind; and such a store of spirits and of good humour--talking withal unintermittingly, but very pleasantly---that you find it difficult to get away from him. He is no indifferent speaker of our own language; and I must say, seems rather proud of such an acquirement. Both he and M. Gail, and M. Van Praet, are men of rather small, stature-- _triplicates_, as it were, of the same work[29]--but of which M. Gail is the tallest copy. One of the two head librarians, just mentioned, sits at a desk in the second room--and when any friends come to see, or to converse with him--the discussion is immediately adjourned to the contiguous boudoir-like apartment, where are deposited the rich old bindings of which you have just had a hasty description. Here the voices are elevated, and the flourishes of speech and of action freely indulged in. In the way to the further apartment, from the boudoir so frequently mentioned, you pass a small room--in which there is a plaster bust of the King--and among the books, bound, as they almost all are, in red morocco, you observe two volumes of tremendously thick dimensions; the one entitled _Alexander Aphrodiæsus, Hippocrates, &c._--the other _Plutarchi Vitæ Parallelæ et Moralia, &c._ They contain nothing remarkable for ornament, or what is more essential, for intrinsic worth. Nevertheless you pass on: and the last--but the most magnificent--of _all_ the rooms, appropriated to the reception of books, whether in ms. or in print, now occupies a very considerable portion of your attention. It is replete with treasures of every description: in ancient art, antiquities, and both sacred and profane learning: in languages from all quarters, and almost of all ages of the world. Here I opened, with indescribable delight the ponderous and famous _Latin Bible of Charles the Bald_--and the religious manual of his brother the _Emperor Lotharius_--composed chiefly of transcripts from the Gospels. Here are ivory bindings, whether as diptychs, or attached to regular volumes. Here are all sorts and sizes of the uncial or capital-letter MSS-- in portions, or entire. Here, too, are very precious old illuminations, and specimens--almost without number--admirably arranged, of every species of BIBLIOGRAPHICAL VIRTÙ, which cannot fail to fix the attention, enlarge the knowledge, and improve the judgment, of the curious in this department of research. Such, my dear friend, is the necessarily rapid--and, I fear, consequently imperfect--sketch which I send you of the general character of the BIBLIOTHÈQUE DU ROI; both as respects its dead and its living treasures. It remains to be seen how this sketch will be completed.--- and I hereby give you notice, that my next letter will contain some account of a few of the more ancient, curious, and splendid MANUSCRIPTS--to be followed by a second letter, exclusively devoted to a similar account of the PRINTED BOOKS. If I execute this task according to my present inclinations--and with the disposition which I now feel, together with the opportunities which have been afforded me--it will not, I trust, be said that I have been an idle or unworthy visitor of this magnificent collection. [16] [Mons. Crapelet takes fire at the above passage: simply because he misunderstands it. In not one-word, or expression of it, is there any thing which implies, directly or indirectly, that "it would be difficult to find another public establishment where the officers are more active, more obliging, more anxious to satisfy the Public than in the above." I am talking only of _dress_--and commending the silk stockings of Mons. Van Praet at the expense of those by whom he is occasionally surrounded.] [17] So, even NOW: 1829. [18] In the year 1814, the late M. Millin published a dissertation upon this medal, to which he prefixed an engraving of the figure of Louis. There can indeed be but one opinion that the Engraving is unworthy of the Original. [For an illustration of the _Medallic History of France_, I scarcely recollect any one object of Art which would be more gratifying, as well as apposite, than a faithful Engraving of such a Medal: and I call upon my good friend M. DU CHESNE to set such a History on foot. There is however another medal, of the same Monarch, of a smaller size, but of equal merit of execution, which has been selected to grace the pages of this second edition--in the OPPOSITE PLATE. The inscription is as follows: LUDOVICO XII. REGNANTE CÆSARE ALTERO. GAUDET OMNIS NATIO: from which it is inferred that the Medal was struck in consequence of the victory of Ravenna, or of Louis's triumphant campaigns in Italy. A short but spirited account is given of these campaigns in Le Noir's _Musée des Monumens Français_, tome ii. p. 145-7.] [19] ["And it is Mr. DIBDIN who makes this confession! Let us render justice to his impartiality on this occasion. Such a confession ought to cause some regret to those who go to seek engravings in London." CRAPELET, vol. ii. p. 89. The reader shall make his own remark on the force, if there be any, of this gratuitous piece of criticism of the French Translator.] [20] [And, till within these few months, those of the REV. DR. NICOLL, Regius Professor of the Hebrew Language! That amiable and modest and surprisingly learned Oriental Scholar died in the flower of his age (in his 36th year) to the deep regret of all his friends and acquaintances, and, I had well nigh said, to the irreparable loss of the University.] [21] ["This observation is just; and it is to be hoped that they will soon carry into execution the Royal ordonance of October, 1816, which appropriates the apartments of the Treasury, contiguous, to be united to the establishment, as they become void. However, what took place in 1825, respecting some buildings in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs, forbids us to suppose that this wished for addition will take place." CRAPELET, p. 93.] [22] [M. Crapelet admits the propriety of such a suggested improvement; and hopes that government will soon take it up for the accommodation of the Visitors--who sometimes are obliged to wait for a _vacancy_, before they can commence these researches.] [23] [Mons. Crapelet estimates the number of these splendid volumes (in 1825,) at "more than six thousand!"] [24] [M. Crapelet might have considered this confession as a reason, or apology, sufficient for not entering into all those details or descriptions, which he seems surprised and vexed that I omitted to travel into.] [25] _An enquiry into the History of Engraving upon Copper and in Wood_, 1816, 4to. 2 vol. by W.Y. Ottley. Mr. Ottley, in vol. i. p. 90, has given the whole of the original cut: while in the first volume p. iii. of the _Bibliotheca Spenceriana_, only the figure and date are given. [26] _Idée générale d'une Collection complette des Estampes. Leips._ 1771. 8vo. [27] Since the above was written, the RIVAL ST. CRISTOPHER have been placed _side by side_. When Lord Spencer was at Paris, last year, (1819,) on his return from Italy--he wrote to me, requesting I would visit him there, and bring St. Christopher with me. That Saint was therefore, in turn, carried across the water--and on being confronted with his name-sake, at the Royal Library ... it was quite evident, at the first glance, as M. Du Chesne admitted--that they were impressions taken from _different blocks_. The question therefore, was, after a good deal of pertinacious argument on both sides--which of the two impressions was the MORE ANCIENT? Undoubtedly it was that of Lord[B] Spencer's. [B] [The reasons, upon which this conclusion was founded, are stated at length in the preceding edition of this work: since which, I very strongly incline to the supposition that the Paris impression is a _proof_--of one of the _cheats_ of DE MURR.] [28] He died in 1824 and a notice of his Life and Labours appeared in the _Annales Encyclopèdiques_. [29] "M. Dibdin may well make the _fourth_ copy--as to size." CRAPELET, p. 115. _LETTER III._ THE SAME SUBJECTS CONTINUED. _Paris, June 14, 1818_. As I promised, at the conclusion of my last, you shall accompany me immediately to the ROYAL LIBRARY; and taking down a few of the more ancient MANUSCRIPTS relating to _Theology_--especially those, which, from age, art, or intrinsic worth, demand a more particular examination--we will both sit down together to the enjoyment of what the librarians have placed before us. In other words, I shall proceed to fill up the outline (executed with a hurrying pencil) which was submitted to you in my previous letter. First, therefore, for BIBLES, LITURGIES, RITUALS, LEGENDS, MORAL TREATISES, &C. _Quatuor Evangelia. "Codex Membranaceus, Olim Abbatiæ S. Medardi Suessionensis in uncialibus litteris et auricis scriptus. Sæc. VI."_ The preceding is written in an old hand, inserted in the book. It is a folio volume of unquestionably great antiquity; but I should apprehend that it is _antedated_ by at least _two_ centuries. It is full of embellishment, of a varied and splendid character. The title to each Gospel is in very large capital letters of gold, upon a purple ground: both the initial letter and the border round the page being elaborately ornamented. The letter prefixed to St. Matthew's Gospel is highly adorned, and in very good taste. Each page consists of two columns, in capital letters of gold, throughout: within borders of a quiet purple, or lilac tint, edged with gold. It has been said that no two borders are alike altogether. A portrait of each Evangelist is prefixed to the title; apparently coeval with the time: the composition is rather grotesque; the colours are without any glaze, and the perspective is bad. LATIN BIBLE OF CHARLES THE BALD. Folio. When this volume was described by me, on a former occasion,[30] from merely printed authorities, of course it was not in my power to do it, if I may so speak, "after the life,"--for although nearly ten centuries have elapsed since this Bible has been executed, yet, considering its remote age, it may be said to be fresh and in most desirable condition. The authority, just hinted at, notices that this magnificent volume was deposited in the library by _Baluze_, the head librarian to Colbert; but a note in that eminent man's hand writing, prefixed, informs us that the Canons of the Cathedral church at Metz made Colbert a present of it. The reverse of the last leaf but one is occupied by Latin verses, in capital letters of gold, at the top of which, in two lines, we make out--" _Qualiter uiuian monachus sci martini consecrat hanc bibliam Karolo ipatorj_," &c. The ensuing and last leaf is probably, in the eye of an antiquarian virtuoso, more precious than either of its decorative precursors. It exhibits the PORTRAIT OF CHARLES THE BALD; who is surrounded by four attendants, blended, as it were, with a group of twelve below--in the habits of priests--listening to the oration of one, who stands nearly in the centre.[31] This illumination, in the whole, measures about fourteen inches in height by nearly ten and a half in width: the purple ground being frequently faded into a greenish tint. The volume itself is about twenty inches in height by fifteen wide. PSALTER OF CHARLES THE BALD. This very precious volume was also in the library of the Great Colbert. It is a small quarto, bound in the most sumptuous manner. The exterior of the first side of the binding has an elaborate piece of sculpture, in ivory, consisting of small human figures, beasts, &c.; and surrounded with oval and square coloured stones. The exterior of the other, or corresponding, side of the binding has the same species of sculpture, in ivory; but no stones. The text of the volume is in gold capitals throughout; but the ornaments, as well as the portrait of Charles, are much inferior to those in that just described. However, this is doubtless a valuable relic. PRAYER BOOK OF CHARLES THE BALD; in small 4to. This is rather an _Evangelistarium_, or excerpts from the four Gospels. The writing is a small roman lower-case. The illuminations, like those in the Bible, are rubbed and faded, and they are smaller. The exterior ornament of the binding, in the middle, contains a group of ivory figures--taken from the _original_ covering or binding. BOOK OF THE GOSPELS, OF THE EMPEROR LOTHARIUS. Although it is very probable that this book may be of a somewhat earlier date than the MS. just described, yet as its original possessor was brother to _Charles the Bald_, it is but courtesy to place him in the second rank after the French monarch; and accordingly I have here inserted the volume in the order which I apprehend ought to be observed. An ancient ms. memorandum tells us that this book was executed in the 855th year of the Christian era, and in the 15th of the Emperor's reign. On the reverse of the first leaf is the portrait of the Emperor, with an attendant on each side. The text commences on the recto of the second leaf. On the reverse of the same leaf, is a representation of the Creator. Upon the whole, this book may be classed among the most precious specimens of early art in this library. On the cover are the royal arms. LATIN BIBLE. Fol. This MS. of the sacred text is in four folio volumes, and undoubtedly cannot be later than the thirteenth century. The text is written with three columns in each page. Of the illuminations, the figures are sketches, but freely executed: the colouring coarse and slightly put on: the wings of some of the angels reminded me of those in the curious _Hyde-Book_, belonging to the Marquis of Buckingham at Stowe; and of which, as you may remember, there are fac-similes in _the Bibliographical Decameron_.[32] The group of angels (on the reverse of the fourth leaf of the first volume), attending the Almighty's commands, is cleverly managed as to the draperies. The soldiers have quilted or net armour. The initial letters are sometimes large, in the fashion of those in the Bible of Charles the Bald, but very inferior in execution. In this MS. we may trace something, I think, of the decline of art. PSALTERIUM LATINÈ, 8vo. If I were called upon to select any one volume, of given octavo dimensions, I do not know whether I should not put my hand upon the _present_--for you are hereby to know that this was the religious manual of ST. LOUIS:--his own choice copy--selected, I warrant, from half a score of performances of rival scribes, rubricators, and illuminators. Its condition is absolutely wonderful--nor is the history of its locomotiveness less surprising. First, for an account of its contents. On the reverse of the first fly-leaf, we read the following memorandum--in red: "_Cest psaultier fu saint loys. Et le dona la royne Iehanne deureux au roy Charles filz du roy Iehan, lan de nres' mil troys cens soissante et neuf. Et le roy charles pnt filz du dit Roy charles le donna a madame Marie de frace sa fille religieuse a poissi. le iour saint michel lan mil iiij^c._" This hand writing is undoubtedly of the time. A word now about the history of this volume. As this extract indicates, it was deposited in a monastery at Poissy. When that establishment was dissolved, the book was brought to M. Chardin, a bookseller and a bibliomaniac. He sold it, some twenty-five years ago, to a Russian gentleman, from whom it was obtained, at Moscow, by the Grand Duke Nicholas.[33] The late King of France, through his ambassador, the Count de Noailles, obtained it from the Grand Duke--who received, in return, from his Majesty, a handsome present of two Sèvre vases. It is now therefore safely and judiciously lodged in the Royal Library of France. It is in wooden covers, wrapped in red velvet. The vellum is singularly soft, and of its original pure tint. HISTORICAL PARAPHRASE OF THE BIBLE. Lat. and Fr. Folio. If any MS. of the sacred text were to be estimated according to the _number of the illuminations_ which it contained, the present would unquestionably claim precedence over every other. In short, this is the MS. of which Camus, in the _Notices et Extraits des MSS. de la Bibliothèque Nationale_, vol. vi. p. 106, has given not only a pretty copious account, but has embellished that account with fac-similes--one large plate, and two others--each containing four subjects of the illuminations. After an attentive survey of the various styles of art observable in these decorations, I am not disposed to allow the antiquity of the MS. to go beyond the commencement of the XVth century. A sight of the frontispiece causes a re-action of the blood in a lover of genuine large margins. The book is cropt--not _quite_ to the quick!... but then this frontispiece displays a most delicate and interesting specimen of graphic art. It is executed in a sort of gray tone:--totally destitute of other colour. According to Camus, there are upwards of five thousand illuminations; and a similar work, in his estimation, could not _now_ be executed under 100,000 francs. A SIMILAR MS. This consists but of one volume, of a larger size, of 321 leaves. It is also an historical Bible. The illuminations are arranged in a manner like those of the preceding; but in black and white only, delicately shaded. The figures are tall, and the females have small heads; just what we observe in those of the _Roman d'Alexandre_, in the Bodleian library. It is doubtless a manuscript of nearly the same age, although this may be somewhat more recent. LIBER GENERATIONIS IHI XTI. Of all portions of the sacred text--not absolutely a consecutive series of the Gospels, or of any of the books of the Old Testament--the present is probably, not only the oldest MS. in that particular department, but, with the exception of the well known _Codex Claromontanus_, the most ancient volume in the Royal Library. It is a folio, having purple leaves throughout, upon which the text is executed in silver capitals. Both the purple and the silver are faded. On the exterior of the binding are carvings in ivory, exceedingly curious, but rather clumsy. The binding is probably coeval with the MS. They call it of the ninth century; but I should rather estimate it of the eighth. It is undoubtedly an interesting and uncommon volume. EVANGELIUM STI. IOHANNIS. This is a small oblong folio, bound in red velvet. It is executed in a very large, lower-case, coarse gothic and roman letter, alternately:--in letters of gold throughout. The page is narrow, the margin is large, and the vellum soft and beautiful. There is a rude portrait of the Evangelist prefixed, on a ground entirely of gold. The capital initial letter is also rude. The date of this manuscript is pushed as high as the eleventh century: but I doubt this antiquity. LIBER PRECUM: CUM NOTIS, CANTICIS ET FIGURIS. I shall begin my account of PRAYER BOOKS, BREVIARIES, &C. with the present: in all probability the most ancient within these walls. The volume before me is an oblong folio, not much unlike a tradesman's day-book. A ms. note by Maugerard, correcting a previous one, assigns the composition of this book to a certain Monk, of the name of _Wickingus_, of the abbey of Prum, of the Benedictin order. It was executed, as appears on the reverse of the forty-eighth leaf, "_under the abbotships of Gilderius and Stephanus_." It is full of illuminations, heavily and clumsily done, in colours, which are now become very dull. I do not consider it as older than the twelfth century, from the shield with a boss, and the depressed helmet. There are interlineary annotations in a fine state of preservation. In the whole, ninety-one leaves. It is bound in red morocco. BREVIARE DE BELLEVILLE: Octavo. 2 volumes. Rich and rare as may be the graphic gems in this marvellous collection, I do assure you, my good friend, that it would be difficult to select two octavo volumes of greater intrinsic curiosity and artist-like execution, than are those to which I am now about to introduce you:--especially the first. They were latterly the property of Louis XIV. but had been originally a present from Charles VI. to our Richard II. Thus you see a good deal of personal history is attached to them. They are written in a small, close, Gothic character, upon vellum of the most beautiful colour. Each page is surrounded by a border, (executed in the style of the age--perhaps not later than 1380) and very many pages are adorned by illuminations, especially in the first volume, which are, even now, as fresh and perfect as if just painted. The figures are small, but have more finish (to the best of my recollection) than those in our Roman d'Alexandre, at Oxford. At the end of the first volume is the following inscription--written in a stiff, gothic, or court-hand character: the capital letters being very tall and highly ornamented. "_Cest Breuiare est a l'usaige des Jacobins. Et est en deux volumes Dont cest cy Le premier, et est nomme Le Breuiaire de Belleville. Et le donna el Roy Charles le vj^e. Au roy Richart Dangleterre, quant il fut mort Le Roy Henry son successeur L'envoya a son oncle Le Duc de Berry, auquel il est a present."_ This memorandum has the signature of "Flamel," who was Secretary to Charles VI. On the opposite page, in the same ancient Gothic character, we read: "_Lesquelz volumes mon dit Seigneur a donnez a ma Dame Seur Marie de France. Ma niepce."_ Signed by the same. The Abbé L'Epine informs me that Flamel was a very distinguished character among the French: and that the royal library contains several books which belonged to him. BREVIARY OF JOHN DUKE OF BEDFORD. Pursuing what I imagine to be a tolerably correct chronological order, I am now about to place before you this far-famed _Breviary_: companion to the MISSAL which originally belonged to the same eminent Possessor, and of which our countrymen[34] have had more frequent opportunities of appreciating the splendour and beauty than the Parisians; as it is not likely that the former will ever again become the property of an Englishman. Doubtless, at the sale of the Duchess of Portland's effects in 1786, some gallant French nobleman, if not Louis XVI. himself, should have given an unlimited commission to purchase it, in order that both _Missal_ and _Breviary_ might have resumed that close and intimate acquaintance, which no doubt originally subsisted between them, when they lay side by side upon the oaken shelves of their first illustrious Owner. Of the _two_ performances, however, there can be no question that the superiority lies decidedly with the _Missal_: on the score of splendour, variety, and skilfulness of execution. The last, and by much the most splendid illumination, is _that_ for which the artists of the middle age, and especially the old illuminators, seem to have reserved all their powers, and upon which they lavished all their stock of gold, ultramarine, and carmine. You will readily anticipate that I am about to add--the _Assumption of the Virgin_. One's memory is generally fallacious in these matters; but of all the exquisite, and of all the minute, elaborate, and dazzling works of art, of the illuminatory kind, I am quite sure that I have not seen any thing which _exceeds_ this. To _equal_ it--there may be some few: but its superior, (of its own particular class of subject) I think it would be very difficult to discover. HORÆ BEATÆ MARIÆ VIRGINIS. This may be called either a large thick octavo, or a very small folio. Probably it was originally more decidedly of the latter kind. It is bound in fish skin; and a ms. note prefixed thus informs us. "_Manuscrit aqui du C^{en} Papillon au commencement du mois de Frimaire de lan XII. de la République."_ This is without doubt among the most superb and beautiful books, of its class, in the Royal Library. The title is ornamented in an unusual but splendid manner. Some of the larger illuminations are elaborately executed; especially the first--representing the _Annunciation_. The robe of the Angel, kneeling, is studded with small pearls, finished with the minutest touches. The character of ART, generally throughout, is that of the time and manner of the volume last described: but the present is very frequently inferior in merit to what may be observed in the Bedford Breviary. In regard to the number of decorations, this volume must also be considered as less interesting: but it possesses some very striking and very brilliant performances. Thus, _St. Michael and the Devil_ is absolutely in a blaze of splendor; while the illumination on the reverse of the same leaf is not less remarkable for a different effect. A quiet, soft tone--from a profusion of tender touches of a grey tint, in the architectural parts of the ornaments--struck me as among the most pleasing specimens of the kind I had ever seen. The latter and larger illuminations have occasionally great power of effect, from their splendid style of execution--especially that in which the central compartment is occupied by _St. George and the Dragon_. Some of the smaller illuminations, in which an Angel is shewing the cruelties about to be inflicted on the wicked, by demons, are terrific little bits! As for the vellum, it is "de toute beauté." HISTORIA BEATÆ MARIÆ VIRGINIS. Folio. This is briefly described in the printed catalogue, under number 6811. It is a large and splendid folio, in a very fine state of preservation; but of which the art is, upon the whole, of the ordinary and secondary class of merit. Yet it is doubtless a volume of great interest and curiosity. Even to English feelings, it will be gratifying to observe in it the portrait of _Louisa of Savoy_, mother of Francis I. That illustrious lady is sitting in a chair, surrounded by her attendants; and is in all probability a copy from the life. The performance is a metrical composition, in stanzas of eleven verses. I select the opening lines, because they relate immediately to the portrait in question. _Tres excellente illustre et magnificque Fleur de noblesse exquise et redolente Dame dhonneur princesse pacifique Salut a ta maieste precellente Tes seruiteurs par voye raisonnable Tant iusticiers que le peuple amyable. De amyens cite dicte de amenite Recomandant sont par humilite Leur bien publicque en ta grace et puissance Toy confessant estre en realite Mere humble et franche au grant espoir de France_. The text is accompanied by the common-place flower Arabesques of the period. HOURS OF ANNE OF BRITTANY. The order of this little catalogue of a few of the more splendid and curious ILLUMINATED MANUSCRIPTS, in the Royal Library of France, has at length, my worthy friend, brought me in contact with the magical and matchless volume usually designated by the foregoing title. You are to know--in the first place--that, of ALL the volumes in this most marvellous Library, the present is deemed THE MOST PRECIOUS. Not even the wishes and regulations of Royalty itself allow of its migration beyond the walls of the public library. There it is kept: there it is opened, and shewn, and extolled beyond any limits fixed to the admiration of the beholder. It is a rare and bewitching piece of art, I do assure you: and so, raising your expectations to their highest pitch, I will allow you to anticipate whatever is wonderful in FRANCESCO VERONESE and gorgeous in GIROLAMO DEI LIBRI.[35] Perhaps, however, this is not the most happy illustration of the art which it displays. The first view of this magical volume is doubtless rather disheartening: but the sight of the original silver clasps (luckily still preserved) will operate by way of a comforter. Upon them you observe this ornament: [Illustration.] denoting, by the letter and the ducal crown, that the book belonged to Anne, Duchess of Brittany. On the reverse of the second leaf we observe the _Dead Christ_ and the _three Maries_. These figures are about six inches in height. They are executed with great delicacy, but in a style somewhat too feeble for their size. One or two of the heads, however, have rather a good expression. Opposite to this illumination is the _truly invaluable_ PORTRAIT OF ANNE herself: attended by two females, each crowned with a glory; one is displaying a banner, the other holding a cross in her hand. To the left of these attendants, is an old woman, hooded, with her head encircled by a glory. They are all three sweetly and delicately touched; but there are many evident marks of injury and ill usage about the surface of the colouring. Yet, as being _ideal_ personages, my eye hastily glided off them to gaze upon the illustrious Lady, by whose orders, and at whose expense, these figures were executed. It is upon the DUCHESS that I fix my eye, and lavish my commendations. Look at her[36] as you here behold her. Her gown is brown and gold, trimmed with dark brown fur. Her hair is brown. Her necklace is composed of coloured jewels. Her cheek has a fresh tint; and the missal, upon which her eyes are bent, displays highly ornamented art. The cloth upon the table is dark crimson. The _Calendar_ follows; in which, in one of the winter months, we observe a very puerile imitation of flakes of snow falling over the figures and the landscape below. The calendar occupies a space of about six inches by four, completely enclosed by a coloured margin. Then begins a series of the most beautiful ornaments of FLOWERS, FRUITS, INSECTS, &C. for which the illuminators of this period were often eminently distinguished. These ornaments are almost uniformly introduced in the fore-edges, or right-side margins, of the leaves; although occasionally, but rarely, they encircle the text. They are from five to six inches in length, or height; having the Latin name of the plant at top, and the French name at the bottom. Probably these titles were introduced by a later hand. It is really impossible to describe many of them in terms of adequate praise. The downy plum is almost bursting with ripeness: the butterfly's wings seem to be in tremulous motion, while they dazzle you by their varied lustre: the hairy insect puts every muscle and fibre into action, as he insinuates himself within the curling of the crisped leaves; while these leaves are sometimes glittering with dew, or coated with the finest down. The flowers and the vegetables are equally admirable, and equally true to nature. To particularise would be endless. Assuredly these efforts of art have no rival--of their kind. _Scripture Subjects. Saints, Confessors, &c._ succeed in regular order, with accompaniments of fruits and flowers, more or less exquisitely executed:--the whole, a collection of peculiar, and, of its kind, UNRIVALLED ART. This extraordinary volume measures twelve inches by seven and a half. HOURS BELONGING TO POPE PAUL III. 8vo. The portrait of the Pope is at the bottom of the first ornament, which fixes the period of its execution to about the middle of the sixteenth century. Towards the end the pages are elaborately ornamented in the arabesque manner. There are some pleasing children: of that style of art which is seen in the Missal belonging to Sir M.M. Sykes, of the time of Francis I.[37] The scription is very beautiful. The volume afterwards belonged to Pius VI., whose arms are worked in tambour on the outside. It is kept in a case, and is doubtless a fine book. MISSALS: numbers 19-4650. Under this head I shall notice two pretty volumes of the devotional kind; of which the subjects are executed in red, blue, &c.--and of which the one seems to be a copy of the other. The borders exhibit a style of art somewhat between that of Julio Clovio and what is seen in the famous Missal just mentioned. MISSAL OF HENRY IV. No. 1171. This book is of the end of the XVIth century. The ground is gold, with a small brilliant, roman letter for text. The subjects are executed in a pale chocolate tint, rather capricious than tasteful. It has been cropt in the binding. The name and arms of Henry are on the exterior. Thus much, my dear friend, for the SACRED TEXT--either in its original, uninterrupted state--or as partially embodied in _Missals_, _Hours_, or _Rituals_. I think it will now be but reasonable to give you some little respite from the toil of further perusal; especially as the next class of MSS. is so essentially different. In the mean while, I leave you to carry the image of ANNE OF BRITTANY to your pillow, to beguile the hours of languor or of restlessness. A hearty adieu. [30] _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. xxxi. [31] Earl Vivian, and eleven monks, in the act of presenting the volume to Charles. [32] Vol. i. p. lvi.-vii. [33] The present Emperor of Russia. [34] A very minute and particular description of this Missal, together with a fac-simile of the DUKE OF BEDFORD kneeling before his tutelary SAINT GEORGE, will be found in the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. cxxxvi-cxxxix. [35] For an account of these ancient worthies in the art of illumination, consult the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. cxlii.-clxiv. [36] See the OPPOSITE PLATE. [The beautiful copy of the Original, by Mr. G. Lewis, from which the Plates in this work were taken, is now in the possession of Thomas Ponton, Esq.] [37] [It was bought at Sir Mark's sale, by Messrs. Rivington and Cochrane. See a fac-simile of one of the illuminations in the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. clxxix.] _LETTER IV._ THE SAME SUBJECT CONTINUED. Are you thoroughly awake, and disenchanted from the magic which the contents of the preceding letter may have probably thrown around you? Arouse--to scenes of a different aspect, but of a not less splendid and spirit-stirring character. Buckle on your helmet, ... for the trumpet sounds to arms. The _Knights of the Round Table_ call upon you, from their rock-hewn, or wood-embowered, recesses, to be vigilant, faithful, enterprising, and undaunted. In language less elevated, and somewhat more intelligible, I am about to place before you a few illuminated MSS. relating to HISTORY and ROMANCE; not without, in the first place, making a digression into one or two volumes of MORALITIES, if they may be so called. Prepare therefore, in the first place, for the inspection of a couple of volumes--which, for size, splendor, and general state of preservation, have no superior in the Royal Library of France. CITÉ DE DIEU: No. 6712: folio. 2 vols. These are doubtless among the most magnificent _shew-books_ in this collection; somewhat similar, in size and style of art, to the MS. of _Valerius Maximus_, in our British Museum--of which, should you not have forgotten it, some account may be read in the _Bibliographical Decameron_.[38] At the very first page we observe an assemblage of Popes, Cardinals, and Bishops, with a King seated on his throne in the midst of them. The figures in the fore-ground are from four to five inches high; and so in gradation upwards. The colouring of some of the draperies is in a most delightful tone. The countenances have also a soft and quiet expression. The arms of _Graville_ (Grauille?) are in the circular border. Three leaves beyond, a still larger and more crowded illumination appears--in a surprising state of freshness and beauty; measuring nearly a foot and a half in height. It is prefixed to the _First Book_, and is divided into a group in the clouds, and various groups upon the earth below. These latter are representations of human beings in all situations and occupations of life--exhibiting the prevalence both of virtues and vices. They are encircled at bottom by a group of Demons. The figures do not exceed two inches in height. Nothing can exceed the delicacy and brilliancy of this specimen of art about the middle of the fifteenth century:---a ms. date of 1469 shewing the precise period of its execution. This latter is at the end of the first volume. Each book, into which the work is divided, has a large illumination prefixed, of nearly equal beauty and splendor. LES ECHECS AMOUREUX. Folio. No. 6808. The title does not savour of any moral application to be derived from the perusal of the work. Nevertheless, there are portions of it which were evidently written with that view. It is so lovely, and I had almost said so matchless, a volume, that you ought to rejoice to have an account of it in any shape. On the score of delicate, fresh, carefully-executed art, this folio may challenge comparison with any similar treasure in the Bibliothèque du Roi. The subjects are not crowded, nor minute; nor of a very wonderful and intricate nature; but they are quietly composed, softly executed, and are, at this present moment, in a state of preservation perfectly beautiful and entire. BOCCACE; DES CAS DES NOBLES HOMMES ET FEMMES: No. 6878. The present seems to be the fit place to notice this very beautiful folio volume of one of the most popular works of Boccaccio. Copies of it, both in ms. and early print--are indeed common in foreign libraries. There is a date of 1409 at the very commencement of the volume: but I take the liberty to question whether that be the date of its actual execution. The illuminations in this manuscript exhibit a fine specimen of the commencement of that soft, and as some may think woolly, style of art, which appears to so much advantage in the _Bedford Missal and Bedford Breviary_; and of which, indeed, a choice specimen of circular ornaments is seen round the first large illumination of the creation and expulsion of Adam and Eve. These illuminations are not of first rate merit, nor are they all by the same hand. THE SAME WORK: with the same date--but the hand-writing is evidently more modern. Of the illuminations, it will be only necessary to mention the large one at fol. iij.c. (ccc.) in which the gray tints and the gold are very cleverly managed. At the end is seen, in a large sprawling character, the following inscription: "_Ce Livre est A Le Harne. Fille Et Seur de Roys de France, Duchesse de Bourbonnois et dauuergne. Contesse de Clermont et de Tourez. Dame de Beaujeu."_ This inscription bears the date of 1468; not very long before which I suspect the MS. to have been executed. THE SAME: of the same date--which date I am persuaded was copied by each succeeding scribe. The illuminations are here generally of a very inferior character: but the first has much merit, and is by a superior hand. The text is executed in a running secretary Gothic. There are two other MSS. of the same work which I examined; and in one of which the well known subject of the _wheel of fortune_ is perhaps represented for the first time. It usually accompanied the printed editions, and may be seen in that of our Pynson, in 1494,[39] folio. I suspect, from one of the introductory prefaces, that the celebrated _Laurent le Premier Fait_ was the principal scribe who gave a sort of fashion to this MS. in France. PTOLEMÆUS, _Latinè_. A magnificent MS.--if size and condition be alone considered. It is however precious in the estimation of Collectors of portraits, as it contains one of Louis XII;[40]--This portrait is nearly in the centre of the frontispiece to the book. Behind the monarch stand two men; one leaning upon his staff. A large gothic window is above. A crucifix and altar are beneath it. There is but one other similar illumination in the volume; and each nearly occupies the whole of the page--which is almost twenty-three inches long by fourteen wide. The other illumination is hardly worth describing. This noble volume, which almost made the bearer stoop beneath its weight, is bound in wood:--covered with blue velvet, with a running yellow pattern, of the time of Louis--but now almost worn away. TITE-LIVE. Fol. A noble and magnificent MS. apparently of the beginning of the XVth. century. It seems to point out the precise period when the artists introduced those soft, full-coloured, circular borders--just after the abandonment of the sharp outline, and thin coat of colour--discoverable in the illuminations of the XIIIth and XIVth centuries. The first grand illumination, with a circular border, is an interesting illustration of this remark. The backgrounds to the pictures are the well-known small bright squares of blue and gold. The text is in a firm square and short gothic character. L'HISTOIRE ROMAINE: No. 6984: Folio, 3 vols. written in the French language. These are among the _shew books_ of the library. The exterior pattern of the binding is beautiful in the extreme. Such a play of lines, in all directions, but chiefly circular, I never before saw. The date, on the outside, is 1556. The writing and the illuminations are of the latter part of the XVth century; and although they are gorgeous, and in a fine state of preservation, yet is the character of the art but secondary, and rather common. ROYAL BIOGRAPHY OF FRANCE. Fol. This exquisite volume may be justly designated as the _nonpareil_ of its kind. It is rather a book of PORTRAITS, than a MS. with intermixed illuminations. The scription, in a sort of cursive, secretary gothic character, merits not a moment's attention: the pencil of the artist having wholly eclipsed the efforts of the scribe. Such a series of exquisitely finished portraits, of all the Kings of France (with the unaccountable omission, unless it has been taken out, of that of Louis XII.) is perhaps no where else to be seen. M. Coeuré, the French artist employed by me, stood in ecstasies before it! These portraits are taken from old monuments, missals, and other ancient and supposed authentic documents. They are here touched and finished in a manner the most surprisingly perfect. The book appears to have been executed expressly for CHARLES IX.--to whom it was in fact presented by _Dutilliet_, (the artist or the superintendant of the volume) in his proper person. The gilt stamp of the two reversed C's are on the sides of the binding. I should add, that the portraits are surrounded by borders of gold, shaded in brown, in the arabesque manner. All the portraits are whole lengths; and if my time and pursuits had permitted it, I should, ere this, have caused M. Coeuré to have transfused a little of his enthusiasm into faithful facsimiles of those of Francis I.--my avowed favourite--of which one represents him in youth, and the other in old age. Why do not the Noblesse of France devote some portion of that wealth, which may be applied to worse purposes, in obtaining a series of engravings executed from this matchless volume?! ROMANCES, BOOKS OF TOURNAMENT, &c. LANCELOT DU LAC shall lead the way. He was always considered among the finest fellows who ever encircled the _Table Ronde_--and _such_ a copy of his exploits, as is at this moment before me, it is probably not very easy for even Yourself to conceive. If the height and bulk of the knight were in proportion to this written record of achievements, the plume of his helmet must have brushed the clouds. This enormous volume (No. 6783) is divided into three books or parts: of which the first part is illuminated in the usual coarse style of the latter end of the XIVth century. The title to this first part, in red ink, is the most perfect resemblance of the earliest type used by Caxton, which I remember to have seen in an ancient manuscript. The other titles do not exhibit that similarity. The first part has ccxlviij. leaves. The second part has no illuminations: if we except a tenderly touched outline, in a brownish black, upon the third leaf--which is much superior to any specimen of art in the volume. This second part has cccj. leaves. At the end:-- _Sensuit le liure du saint graal_. The spaces for illuminations are regularly preserved, but by what accident or design they were not filled up remains to be conjectured. The third part, or book, is fully illuminated like the first. There is a very droll illumination on folio vij.^{xx}. xij. At the end of the volume, on folio ccxxxiij., recto, is the following date: "_Aujourduy iiij. Jour du Jullet lan mil ccc. soixante dix a este escript ce livre darmes par Micheaugatelet prestre demeurant en la ville de Tournay_." Just before the colophon, on the reverse of the preceding leaf, is a common-place illumination of the interment of a figure in a white sheet--with this incription: ICI: GIST. LECORS: GALAHAVT: SEIGNEVR DES. LOINTENES. ILES. ET. AVECQVES. LVI. REPOVSE: MESIRE LANCELOT. DVLAC. MELLIEVR. CHRL. DV. MVDE. APRES. GVALEAT. There are two or three more illuminated MSS. of our well-beloved Lancelot. One, in six volumes, has illuminations, but they are of the usual character of those of the fifteenth century. LANCELOT DU LAC, &C. This MS. is in three volumes. The first contains only, as it were, an incipient illumination: but there is preserved, on the reverse of the binding, and written in the same character with the text, three lines--of which the private history, or particular application, is now forgotten--although we learn, from the word _bloys_ being written at top, that this MS. came from the library of Catherine de Medici--when she resided at Blois. The second volume of this copy is in quite a different character, and much older than the first. The colophon assigns to it the date of 1344. The volume is full of illuminations, and the first leaf exhibits a fair good specimen of those drolleries which are so frequently seen in illuminated MSS. of that period. The third volume is in a still different hand-writing: perhaps a little more ancient. It has a few slight illuminations, only as capital initials. LANCELOT DU LAC: No. 6782. This MS. is executed in a small gothic character, in ink which has now become much faded. From the character of the illuminations, I should consider it to be much more ancient than either of the preceding--even at the commencement of the thirteenth century. Among the illuminations there is a very curious one, with this prefix; _Vne dame venant a.c. chr. q dort en son lit & ele le volt baisier. mais vne damoiselle li deffendi_ You will not fail to bear in mind that the history of Lancelot du Lac will be also found in those of Tristan and Arthur. I shall now therefore introduce you to a MS. or two relating to the former. TRISTAN. No. 6957, 2 vols. _folio_. This is a very fine old MS. apparently of the middle of the XIVth century. The writing and the embellishments fairly justify this inference. The first volume contains three hundred and fifty-one leaves. On the reverse of the last leaf but one, is the word "_anne_" in large lower-case letters; but a ms. memorandum, in a later hand, at the end, tells us that this copy was once the property of "_the late Dame Agnes" &c_. The second volume is written in more of the secretary gothic character--and is probably somewhat later than the first. It is executed in double columns. The illuminations are little more than outlines, prettily executed upon a white ground--or rather the vellum is uncoloured. This volume seems to want a leaf at the commencement, and yet it has a title at top, as if the text actually began there. The colophon is thus: _Explicit le Romat de. T. et de yseut qui fut fait lan mille. iijc. iiijxx. et xix. la veille de pasques grans._ TRISTAN, FILS DE MELIADUS. No. 6773. A folio of almost unparalleled breadth of back;--measuring more than six inches and a quarter, without the binding. A beautiful illumination once graced the first leaf, divided into four compartments, which is now almost effaced. In the third compartment, there are two men and two women playing at chess, in a vessel. What remains, only conveys an imperfect idea of its original beauty. The lady seems to have received check-mate, from the melancholy cast of her countenance, and her paralised attitude. The man is lifting up both hands, as if in the act of exultation upon his victory. The two other figures are attendants, who throw the dice. Upon the whole, this is among the prettiest bits I have yet seen. It is worth noticing that the yellow paint, like our Indian yellow, is here very much used; shaded with red. The generality of the illuminations are fresh; but there is none of equal beauty with that just described. From the scription, and the style of art, I should judge this MS. to have been executed about the year 1400 or 1420; but a memorandum, apparently in a somewhat later hand, says it was finished in 1485:--_Par Michean gonnot de la brouce pstre demeurant a croysant._ Some lines below have been scratched out. The colophon, just before, is on the recto of the last leaf: _Explicit le romans de tristan et de la Royne Yseult la blonde Royne de cornoalle._ TRISTAN: No. 6774. _Folio._ 2 vols. The illuminations are magnificent, but lightly coloured and shaded. The draperies are in good taste. The border to the first large illumination, in four parts, is equally elegant in composition and colouring, and a portion of it might be worth copying. There is a pretty illumination of two women sitting down. A table cloth, with dinner upon it, is spread upon the grass between them:--a bottle is plunged into a running stream from a fountain, with an ewer on one side in the fore-ground. One woman plays upon the guitar while the other eats her dinner. The second volume has a fine illumination divided into four parts, with a handsome border--not quite perhaps so rich as the preceding. Among the subjects, there is a singular one of Lancelot du Lac helping a lady out of a cauldron in a state of nudity: two gentlemen and a lady are quietly looking on. The text appertaining to this subject runs thus: "_Et quant elle voit lancelot si lui dist hoa sire cheualiers pour dieu ostes moy de ceste aure ou il a eaue qui toute mait Et lancelot vint a la aure et prent la damoiselle par la main et lentrait hors. Et quant elle se voit deliure elle luy chiet aux pies et lui baise la iambe et lui dist sire benoite soit leure que vous feustes oncques nes, &c_." The top of the last leaf is cut off: and the date has been probably destroyed. The colophon runs thus: _Cy fenist le livre de tristan et de la royne yseult de cornouaille et le graal que plus nen va_. The present is a fine genuine old copy: in faded yellow morocco binding-- apparently not having been subjected to the torturing instruments of De Rome. LE ROY ARTUS. No. 6963. Folio. I consider this to be the oldest illuminated MS. of the present Romance which I have yet seen. It is of the date of 1274, as its colophon imports. It is written in double columns, but the illuminations are heavy and sombre;--about two inches in height, generally oblong. There are grotesques, attached to letters, in the margin. The backgrounds are thick, shining gold. At the end: _Explicit de lanselot. del lac[41] Ces Roumans fu par escris. En lan del Incarnation nostre Segnor. mil deus cens et sixante et quatorse le semedi apres pour ce li ki lescrist_. It is in a fine state of preservation. Mons. Méon shewed me a manuscript of the ST. GRAAL, executed in a similar style, and written in treble columns. LE MEME. This is a metrical MS of the XIIIth century: executed in double columns. The illuminations are small but rather coarse. It is in fine preservation. Bound in green velvet. Formerly the outsides of this binding had silver gilt medallions; five on each side. These have been latterly stolen. I also saw a fine PERCEFOREST, in four large folio volumes upon vellum, written in a comparatively modern Gothic hand. The illuminations were to be _supplied_--as spaces are left for them. There is also a paper MS. of the same Romance, not illuminated. ROMAN DE LA ROSE: No. 6983. I consider this to be the oldest MS. of its subject which I have seen. It is executed in a small Gothic character, in two columns, with ink which has become much faded: and from the character, both of the scription and the embellishments, I apprehend the date of it to be somewhere about the middle of the XIVth century. The illuminations are small, but pretty and perfect; the backgrounds are generally square, diamond-wise, without gold; but there are backgrounds of solid shining gold. The subjects are rather quaintly and whimsically, than elegantly, treated. In the whole, one hundred and sixty leaves. From Romances, of all and of every kind, let us turn our eyes towards a representation of subjects intimately connected with them: to wit, A BOOK OF TOURNAMENTS. No. 8351. Folio. This volume is in a perfect blaze of splendour. Hither let PROSPERO and PALMERIN resort--to choose their casques, their gauntlets, their cuirasses, and lances: yea, let more than one-half of the Roxburghers make an annual pilgrimage to visit this tome!-- which developes, in thirteen minutes, more chivalrous intelligence than is contained even in the mystical leaves of the _Fayt of Arms and Chyvalrye_ of our beloved Caxton. Be my pulse calm, and my wits composed, as I essay the description of this marvellous volume. Beneath a large illumination, much injured, of Louis XI. sitting upon his throne--are the following verses: _Pour exemple aulx nobles et gens darmes Qui appetent les faitz darmes hautes Le Sire de gremthumsé duyt es armes Volut au roy ce livre presenter_. Next ensue knights on horseback, heralds, &c.--with a profusion of coat-armours: each illumination occupying a full page. On the reverse of the ninth leaf, is a most interesting illumination, in which is seen the figure of _John Duke of Brittany_. He is delivering a sword to a king at arms, to carry to his cousin, the Duke of Bourbon; as he learns, from general report, that the Duke is among the bravest champions in Christendom, and in consequence he wishes to break a lance with him. The illumination, where the Duke thus appears, is quite perfect, and full of interest: and I make no doubt but the countenance of the herald, who is kneeling to receive the sword, is a faithful portrait. It is full of what may be called individuality of character. The next illumination represents the _Duke of Bourbon accepting the challenge_, by receiving the sword. His countenance is slightly injured. The group of figures, behind him, is very clever. The ensuing illumination exhibits the herald offering the Duke de Bourbon the choice of eight coats of armour, to put on upon the occasion. A still greater injury is here observable in the countenance of the Duke. The process of conducting the tournay, up to the moment of the meeting of the combatants, is next detailed; and several illuminations of the respective armours of the knights and their attendants, next claim our attention. On the reverse of the xxxijnd, and on the recto of the xxxiijd leaf, the combat of the two Dukes is represented. The seats and benches of the spectators are then displayed: next a very large illumination of the procession of knights and their attendants to the place of contest. Then follows an interesting one of banners, coat armours, &c. suspended from buildings--and another, yet larger and equally interesting, of the entry of the judges. I am yet in the midst of the emblazoned throng. Look at yonder herald, with four banners in his hand. It is a curious and imposing sight. Next succeeds a formal procession--preparing for the combat. It is exceedingly interesting, and many of the countenances are full of natural expression. This is followed by a still more magnificent cavalcade, with judges in the fore-ground; and the "dames et damoiselles," in fair array to the right. We have next a grand rencontre of the knights attendant--carried on beneath a balcony of ladies whose bright eyes Reign influence, and decide the prize. These ladies, thus comfortably seated in the raised balcony, wear what we should now call the _cauchoise_ cap. A group of grave judges is in another balcony, with sundry mottos spread below. In the rencontre which takes place, the mace seems to be the general instrument of attack and defence. Splendid as are these illuminations, they yield to those which follow; especially to that which _immediately_ succeeds, and which displays the preparation for a tournament to be conducted upon a very large scale. We observe throngs of combatants, and of female spectators in boxes above. These are rather more delicately touched. Now comes ... the mixed and stubborn fight of the combatants. They are desperately engaged with each other; while their martial spirit is raised to the highest pitch by the sharp and reverberating blasts of the trumpet. The trumpeters blow their instruments with all their might. Every thing is in animation, bustle, energy, and confusion. A man's head is cut off, and extended by an arm, to which--in the position and of the size we behold--it would be difficult to attach a body. Blood flows copiously on all sides. The reward of victory is seen in the next and _last_ illumination. The ladies bring the white mantle to throw over the shoulders of the conqueror. In the whole, there are only lxxiiij. leaves. This is unquestionably a volume of equal interest and splendor; and, when it was fresh from the pencil of the illuminator, its effect must have been exquisite.[42] BOOK OF TOURNAMENTS: No. 8204. 8vo. We have here a sort of miniature exhibition of the chief circumstances displayed in the previous and larger MS. It is questionless a very precious book; but has been cruelly cropt. The text and ornaments are clearly of the end of the fifteenth century; perhaps about 1470. Nothing can well exceed the brilliancy and power of many of the illuminations, which are very small and very perfect. The knight, with a representation of the trefoil, (or what is called club, in card playing) upon a gold mantle, kills the other with a black star upon a white mantle. This mortal combat is the last in the book. Each of the knights, praying before going to combat, is executed with considerable power of expression. The ladies have the high (cauchoise) cap or bonnet. The borders, of flowers, are but of secondary merit. POLYBIUS, _Græcè_. Folio. M. Gail placed before me, in a sly manner--as if to draw off my attention from the volumes of chivalry just described,--the present beautiful MS. of Polybius. It is comparatively recent, being of the very commencement of the sixteenth century: but the writing exhibits a perfect specimen of that style or form of character which the Stephenses and Turnebus, &c. appear to have copied in their respective founts of the Greek letter. It has also other, and perhaps stronger, claims to notice. The volume belonged to Henry II. and Diane de Poictiers, and the decorations of the pencil are worthy of the library to which it was attached. The top ornament, and the initial letter,--at the beginning of the text--are each executed upon a blue ground, shaded in brown and gold, in the most exquisitely tasteful manner. This initial letter has been copied "ad amussim" by old Robert Stephen. Upon the whole, this is really an enchanting book, whether on the score of writing or of ornament. Farewell, now, therefore--to the Collection of MSS. in the _Bibliothèque du Roi_ at Paris. Months and years may be spent among them, and the vicissitudes of seasons (provided fires were occasionally introduced) hardly felt. I seem, for the last fortnight, to have lived entirely in the "olden time;" in a succession of ages from that of Charles the Bald to that of Henri Quatre: and my eyes have scarcely yet recovered from the dazzling effects of the illuminator's pencil. "II faut se reposer un peu." [38] Vol. i. p. ccxx-i. [39] See _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. iv p. 421. [40] The fac-simile drawing of this portrait, by M. Coeuré--from which the print was taken, in the previous edition of this work--is also in the possession of my friend Mr. Ponton. See note, page 79 ante. [41] The words "del lac" are in a later hand. [42] What is rather singular, there is a duplicate of this book: a copy of every illumination, done towards the beginning of the sixteenth century; but the text is copied in a smaller hand, so as to compress the volume into lxviij. leaves. Unluckily, the copies of the illuminations are not only comparatively coarse, but are absolutely faithless as to resemblances. There is a letter prefixed, from a person named _Le Hay_, of the date of 1707, in which the author tells some gentleman that he was in hopes to procure the volume for 100 crowns; but afterwards, the owner obstinately asking 200, _Le Hay_ tells his friend to split the difference, and offer 150. This book once belonged to one "_Hector Le Breton Sievr de la Doynetrie_"--as the lettering upon the exterior of the binding implies--and as a letter to his son, of the date of 1660, within the volume, also shows. This letter is signed by Le Breton. _LETTER V._ SOME ACCOUNT OF EARLY PRINTED AND RARE BOOKS IN THE ROYAL LIBRARY. As the ART of PRINTING rather suddenly, than gradually, checked the progress of that of writing and illuminating--and as the pressman in consequence pretty speedily tripped up the heels of the scribe--it will be a natural and necessary result...that I take you with me to the collection of PRINTED BOOKS. Accordingly, let us ascend the forementioned lofty flight of stone steps, and paying attention to the affiche of "wiping our shoes," let us enter: go straight forward: make our obeisance to Monsieur Van Praet, and sit down doggedly but joyfully to the glorious volumes...many of them Rough with barbaric gold, which, through his polite directions, are placed before us. To come to plain matter of fact. Receive, my good friend, in right earnest and with the strictest adherence to truth, a list of some of those rarer and more magnificent productions of the ancient art of printing, which I have been so many years desirous of inspecting, and which now, for the first time, present themselves to my notice and admiration. After the respectable example of M. Van Praet,[43] I shall generally, add the sizes, or measurement[44] of the respective books examined--not so much for the sake of making those unhappy whose copies are of less capacious dimensions, as for the consolation of those whose copies may lift up their heads in a yet more aspiring attitude. One further preliminary remark. I send you this list precisely in the order in which chance, rather than a preconcerted plan, happened to present the books to me. RECUEIL DES HISTOIRES DE TROYE. _Printed by Caxton_. Folio. The late M. De La Serna Santander, who was Head Librarian of the public Library at Brussels, purchased this book for the Royal Library for 150 francs.[45] It is in the finest possible state of preservation; and is bound in red morocco, with rather a tawdry lining of light blue water-tabby silk. THE SAME WORK. _Printed by Verard, without date_. Folio. This copy is UPON VELLUM; in the finest possible condition both for size and colour. It is printed in Verard's small gothic type, in long lines, with a very broad margin. The wood-cuts are coloured. The last leaf of the first book is MS.: containing only sixteen lines upon the recto of the leaf. This fine copy is bound in red morocco. HORÆ BEATÆ VIRGINIS, Gr. _Printed by Aldus_. 1497. 12mo. Perhaps the rarest Aldine volume in the world:--when found in a perfect state. M. Renouard had not been able to discover a copy to enrich his instructive annals of the Aldine typography.[46] The present copy is four inches and five eighths, by three inches and a half. It is in its original clasp binding, with stamped leather-outsides.[47] THE SHYPPE OF FOOLES. _Printed by Wynkyn de Worde_. 1509. 8vo. At length this far-famed and long talked of volume has been examined. It is doubtless a prodigious curiosity, and unique--inasmuch as this copy is UPON VELLUM. The vellum is stout but soft. I suspect this copy to be rather cropt. It is bound in red morocco, and is perfectly clean and sound throughout. ROMAN DE JASON. In French. _Printed by Caxton_. Folio. A little history is attached to the acquisition of this book, which may be worth recital. An unknown, and I may add an unknowing, person, bought this most exceedingly rare volume, with the _Qudriloge of Alain Chartier_, 1477, Folio, in one and the same ancient wooden binding, for the marvellously moderate sum of-- _one louis_! The purchaser brought the volume to M. de La Serna Santander, and asked him if he thought _two_ louis too much for their value. That wary Bibliographer only replied, "I do not think it is." He became the purchaser; and instantly and generously consigned the volumes to their present place of destination.[48] You may remember that the collection of Anthony Storer, in the library of Eton College, also possesses this book-- at present wanting in Lord Spencer's library. The present copy contains one hundred and thirty-two leaves, including a blank leaf; and is in a perfect state of preservation. PSALTERIUM, Latinè. _Printed by Fust and Schoiffher_. 1457. Folio. EDITIO PRINCEPS. This celebrated volume is a recent acquisition. It was formerly the copy of Girardot de Préfond, and latterly that of Count M'Carthy; at whose sale it was bought for 12,000 francs. It is cruelly cropt, especially at the side margins; and is of too sombre and sallow a tint. Measurement-- fourteen inches, by nine and a half. It is doubtless an absolutely necessary volume in a collection like the present. Only SEVEN known copies in the world. PSALTERIUM, Latinè. _Printed by the same_. 1459: Folio. _Editio Secunda_. The first six leaves have been evidently much thumbed; and the copy, from the appearance of the first leaf alone, is as evidently cropt. For the colophon, both of this and of the preceding edition, examine the catalogue of Lord Spencer's library.[49] Upon the whole, it strikes me, as far as recollection may serve, that his Lordship's copy of each edition is preferable to those under consideration.[50] This copy measures sixteen inches and a quarter, by twelve and one-eighth. PSALTERIUM, Latinè. _Printed by Schoiffher_. 1490. Folio. A magnificent volume: and what renders it still more desirable, it is printed UPON VELLUM. Lord Spencer's copy is upon paper. The _previous_ editions are _always_ found upon vellum. Fine and imposing as is the copy before me, it is nevertheless evident--from the mutilated ancient numerals at top--that it has been somewhat cropt. This fine book measures sixteen inches and five eighths, by eleven inches and seven eighths. PSALTERIUM, Latinè. _Printed by Schoiffher_. 1502. Folio. This book (wanting in the cabinet at St. James's Place) is upon paper. As far as folio Cxxxvij. the leaves are numbered: afterwards, the printed numerals cease. A ms. note, in the first leaf, says, that the text of the first sixteen leaves precisely follows that of the first edition of 1457. The present volume will be always held dear in the estimation of the typographical antiquary. It is THE LAST in which the name of _Peter Schoiffher_, the son-in-law of Fust, appears to have been introduced. That printer died probably a short time afterwards. It measures fifteen inches and one eighth in height, by ten inches and seven eighths in width. PSALTERIUM, Latinè. _Printed by Schoiffher's Son_. 1516. Folio. A fine and desirable copy, printed UPON VELLUM. It is tolerably fair: measuring fifteen inches, by ten inches and three quarters. I have little hesitation in estimating _these five copies_ of the earlier editions of the Psalter, to be worth, at least, one thousand pounds. BIBLIA LATINA. (_Supposed to have been printed in 1455.)_ Folio. This is the famous edition called the MAZARINE BIBLE, from the first known copy of it having been discovered in the library of that Cardinal, in the college founded by himself. Bibliography has nearly exhausted itself in disquisitions upon it. But this copy--which is upon paper--is THE COPY _of all copies_; inasmuch as it contains the memorable inscription, or coeval ms. memorandum, of its having been illuminated in 1456.[51] In the first volume, this inscription occurs at the end of the printed text, in three short lines, but to the best of my recollection, the memorandum resembles the printed text rather more than the fac-simile of it formerly published by me. In the second volume, this inscription is in three long lines and is well enough copied in the M'Carthy catalogue. It may be as well to give you a transcript of this celebrated memorandum, as it proves unquestionably the impression to have been executed before any known volume with a printed date. It is taken from the end of the second volume.[52] THE SAME EDITION.--This is a sound and desirable copy, printed UPON VELLUM; but much inferior in every respect, to another similar copy in the possession of Messrs. G. and W. Nicol, booksellers to his Majesty.[53] It measures fifteen inches and three-fourths, by nearly eleven and six eighths. BIBLIA LATINA. _Printed by Pfister, at Bamberg_. Folio. Three volumes. The rarest of all Latin Bibles, when found in a perfect state. This was Lord Oxford's copy, and is not to be equalled for its beauty and soundness of condition. What renders it precious and unique, is an undoubted coeval ms. date, in red ink, of 1461. Some of the leaves in the first volume are wholly uncut. It is in handsome, substantial russia binding. DURANDI RATIONALE DIV. OFF. _Printed by Fust and Schoiffher_. 1459. Folio. Here are not fewer than _three_ copies of this early, and much coveted volume: all of course UPON VELLUM. The tallest of them measures sixteen inches and a half, by twelve and one eighth; and is in red morocco binding. BIBLIA GERMANICA. _Supposed to be printed by Mentelin_. _Without date_. Folio. If we except the earlier leaves--of which the first is in ms., upon vellum, and the three succeeding, which are a little tender and soiled-- this is a very fine copy; so large, as to have many bottom rough margins. At the end of the second volume an ancient ms. memorandum absurdly assigns the printing of this edition to Fust, and its date to 1472. The paper of this impression is certainly not very unlike that of the _Catholicon_ of 1460. BIBLIA PAUPERUM. A block-book. This is a cropt, but clean and uncoloured copy. I suspect, however, that it has been washed in some parts. It is in red morocco binding. BIBLIA POLONICA. 1563. Folio. This is the famous Protestant Polish Bible, put forth under the patronage of Prince Radziwill; and concerning which a good deal has been already submitted to the public attention.[54] But the copy under consideration was a _presentation_ copy from a descendant of Prince Radziwill--to the public Library of Sedan, to be there deposited through the intervention of Lord James Russell; as the following memorandum, in the Prince's own hand writing, attests: "_Hoc sacrarum Literarum Veteris Nouique Testamenti opus, fidelissima Cura Maiorum meorum vetustis Typis Polonicis excusum, In Bibliothecam Sedanensem per Nobilem Virum Dominum Jacobum Russelium, Ill^{mi} Principis Friderici Mauritii Bullionei ad me exlegatum inferendum committo_. _H. Radziwill_." It is nevertheless an imperfect copy, as it wants the title-page. M. Van Praet thinks it otherwise complete, but I suspect that it is not so. BIBLIA SCLAVONICA; 1587. Folio. Of this exceedingly scarce volume--which M. Van Praet placed before me as almost unique--the present is a fine and desirable copy: in its original binding--with a stamped ornament of the Crucifixion on each side. One of these ornaments is quite perfect: the other is somewhat injured. BIBLIA BOHEMICA. _Printed in 1488_. Folio. Among the rarest of the early-printed versions of the sacred text: and this copy happens to be a most beautiful and desirable one. It is wanting in Lord Spencer's collection; which renders a minute description of it the more desirable. The first signature, _a i_, appears to be blank. On _a ii_ begins a prologue or prefatory proheme, ending on the reverse of _a vj_. It has a prefix, or title, in fifteen lines, printed in red. The text is uniformly printed in double columns, in a sharp secretary-gothic character, with ink sufficiently black, upon paper not remarkably stout, but well manufactured. There are running titles, throughout. The last eight leaves upon signature _i_ are printed in red and black lines alternately, and appear to be an index. The colophon, in nineteen lines, is at the bottom of the second column, on the reverse of _mm viij_. This book is thought to have been printed at _Prague_. The present copy is bound in blue morocco. NEW TESTAMENT: _in the Dutch and Russian languages_. This volume, which is considered to be unique, and of which indeed I never saw, or heard of, another copy, bears the imprint of "_'T Gravenhage--Iohannes Van Duren, Boecverkoper_. MDCCXVII." Folio. The Dutch text is uniformly printed in capital letters; the Russian, in what I conceive to be lowercase, and about two-thirds the size of the Dutch. The cause of the scarcity of perfect copies is, that very nearly the whole of the impression was _lost at sea_. The present copy undoubtedly affords decided demonstrations of a marine soaking: parts of it being in the most piteous condition. The first volume contains 255 leaves: the second, 196 leaves. The copy is yet in boards, in the most tender condition. M. Van Praet thinks it _just_ possible that there may be a _second_ similar copy. The _third_ (if there be a second) is known to have perished in the flames at Moscow. THE PENTATEUCH: _in Hebrew_. _Printed in 1491_. _Folio_. A very fine copy, printed UPON VELLUM. The press work has a rich and black appearance; but the vellum is rather soiled. One leaf presents us with the recto covered by ms. of a brown tint--and the reverse covered by printed text. The last page is certainly ms. This however is a rare and costly tome. TRACTS PRINTED BY PFISTER, _at Bamberg_; Folio. This is really a matchless volume, on the score of rarity and curiosity. It begins with a tract, or moral treatise, upon death. The wood cuts, five in number, are very large, filling nearly the whole page. One of them presents us with death upon a white horse; and the other was immediately recognised by me, as being the identical subject of which a fac-simile of a portion is given to the public in Lord Spencer's Catalogue[55]--but which, at that time, I was unable to appropriate. This tract contains twenty-four leaves, having twenty-eight lines in a full page. In all probability it was the _first_ of the tracts printed by Pfister in the present volume. The FOUR HISTORIES, so fully detailed in the work just referred to, immediately follow. This is of the date of 1462. Then the BIBLIA PAUPERUM, also fully described in the same work. This treatise is without date, and contains seventeen leaves; with a profusion of wood cuts, of which fac-similes have been given by me to the public. These three copies are in remarkably fine preservation; and this volume will be always highly treasured in the estimation of the typographical antiquary. The Latin Bible, by Pfister, has been just described to you. There was a yet MORE PRECIOUS typographical gem ... in this very library; by the same printer--with very curious wood cuts,--of one of which Heineken has indulged us with a fac-simile. I mean the FABLES ... with the express date of 1461. But recent events have caused it to be restored to its original quarters.[56] LACTANTII INSTITUTIONES, &C. _Printed in the Soubiaco Monastery_. 1465. Folio. This was Lord Oxford's copy, and may be called almost uncut. You are to learn, that copies of this beautifully printed book are by no means very uncommon--although formerly, if I remember rightly, De Bure knew but of one copy in France--but copies in a fine state, and of such dimensions as are Mr. Grenville's and the one now before me, must be considered as of extremely rare occurrence. This copy measures thirteen inches, one-eighth, and one-sixteenth--by very nearly nine inches one-eighth. You will smile at this particularity; but depend upon it there are ruler-carrying collectors who will thank me heartily for such a rigidly minute measurement. STS. AUGUSTINUS DE CIVITATE DEI. _Printed in the Soubiaco Monastery_. 1467. Folio. It always does the heart of a bibliographer good to gaze upon a fine copy of this resplendent volume. It is truly among the master-pieces of early printing: but what will be your notions of the copy NOW under description, when I tell you, not only that it once belonged to our beloved FRANCIS I., but that, for amplitude and condition, it rivals the copy in the library at _St. James's Place_? In short, it was precisely between _this very copy_, and that of my Lord Spencer, that M. Van Praet paused-- ("J'ai balancé" were, I think, the words used to me by that knowing bibliographer) and pondered and hesitated ... again and again ... ere he could decide upon which of the two was to be parted with! But, supposing the size and condition of each to be fairly "balanced" against the other, M. Van Praet could not, in honour and conscience, surrender the copy which had been formerly in the library of one of the greatest of the French monarchs ... and so the spirit of Francis I. rests in peace ... as far as the retention of this copy may contribute to its repose. It is doubtless more brilliant and more attractive than Lord Spencer's--which, however, has no equal on the _other_ side of the channel: but it is more beaten, and I suspect, somewhat more cropt. I forgot to say, that there are several capital initials in this copy tolerably well illuminated, apparently of the time of Francis--who, I am persuaded, loved illuminators of books to his heart. I shall now continue literally as I began:--without any regard to dates, or places where printed. CATHOLICON. _Printed by Gutenburg_: 1460. Folio. 2 vols. This copy is UPON VELLUM; but yet much inferior to the absolutely unrivalled membranaceous copy in Mr. Grenville's precious library. This copy measures fifteen inches one eighth, by eleven inches one eighth. It is bound in red morocco. GRAMMATICA RHYTHMICA. _Printed by Fust and Schoiffher_; 1466. Folio. How you would start back with surprise--peradventure mingled with indignation-- to be told that, for this very meagre little folio, somewhat cropt, consisting but of eleven leaves cruelly scribbled upon ... not fewer than _three thousand three hundred livres_ were given--at the sale of Cardinal Lomenie's library, about thirty years ago! It is even so. And wherefore? Because only _one_ other copy of it is known:--and that "other" is luckily reposing upon the mahogany shelves in St. James's Place. The present copy measures ten inches seven eighths, by eight inches. VOCABULARIUS. _Printed by Bechtermuntze_; 1467. Quarto. EDITIO PRINCEPS-- one of the rarest books in the world. Indeed I apprehend this copy to be absolutely UNIQUE. This work is a Latin and German Vocabulary, of which a good notion may be formed by the account of the _second_ edition of it, in 1469, in a certain descriptive catalogue.[57] To be perfect, there should be 215 leaves. A full page has thirty-five lines. This copy is in as fine, clean, and crackling condition, as is that of Lord Spencer of the second impression. It is eight inches and a half in height, by five inches and five eighths in width. HARTLIEB'S BOOK OF CHIROMANCY. _Supposed to have been printed with wooden blocks_. Folio. You may remember the amusement which you said was afforded you by the account of, and the fac-similes from, this very strange and bizarre production--in the _Bibliographical Decameron_. The copy before me is much larger and finer than that in Lord Spencer's collection. The figure of the Doctor and of the Princess Anna are also much clearer in their respective impressions; and the latter has really no very remote resemblance to what is given in the _Bibl. Spenceriana_[58] of one of the Queens of Hungary. If so, perhaps the period of its execution may not be quite so remote as is generally imagined: for the Hungarian Chronicle, from which that regal figure was taken, is of the date of 1485. HISTORIA BEATÆ VIRGINIS. _Without date_. This is doubtless rather an extraordinary volume. The text is printed only on one side of the leaf: so as to leave, alternately, the reverses and rectos blank--facing each other. But this _alone_ is no proof of its antiquity; for, from the character both of the wood cuts and the type, I am quite persuaded that this volume could not have been executed much before the year 1480. It is not improbable that this book might have been printed at _Ulm_. It is a very beautiful copy, and bound in blue morocco. VIRGILIUS. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz_. 1469. Folio. EDITIO PRINCEPS. The enormous worth and rarity of this exceedingly precious volume may be estimated from this very copy having been purchased, at the sale of the Duke de la Valliere's library, in 1783, for four thousand one hundred and one livres. The first leaf of the _Bucolics_, of which the margin of the page is surrounded by an ancient illumination, gives unfortunate evidence of the binding of Chamot.[59] In other words, this copy, although in other respects white and sound, has been too much cropt. It measures eleven inches and six eighths, by nearly seven inches and five eighths. VIRGILIUS. _Printed by Vindelin de Spira_. 1470. Here are not fewer than _two_ delicious copies of this exceedingly rare impression--and the most delicious happens to be UPON VELLUM. "O rare felicity!... (you exclaim) to spend so many hours within scarcely more than an arm's length of such cherished and long-sought after treasures!" But it is true nevertheless. The vellum copy demands our more immediate attention. It is very rarely, indeed, that this volume can be obtained in any state, whether upon vellum or paper;[60] but in the condition in which it is here found, it is a very precious acquisition. Some few leaves are a little tawny or foxy, and the top of the very first page makes it manifest that the volume has suffered a slight degree of amputation. But such defects are only as specks upon the sun's disk. This copy, bound in old yellow morocco binding of the Gaignat period, measures very nearly twelve inches and three quarters, by eight inches and five eighths. The SAME EDITION. A copy upon paper: in the most unusual condition. The pages are numbered with a pen, rather neatly: but these numerals had better have been away. A frightful (gratuitous) ms. title--copied in a modern hand, from another of the date of 1474--strikes us; on opening the volume, in a very disagreeable manner. At top we read "_Ad usum H.D. Henrici E.C.M.C._" The first page of the text is surrounded by an old illumination: and the title to the Bucolics is inserted, by the hand, in gold capital letters. From the impression appearing on the six following leaves, it should seem that this illuminated border had been stamped, after the book was bound. The condition of this classical treasure may be pronounced, upon the whole, to be equally beautiful and desirable. Perhaps there has been the slightest possible cropping; as the ancient ms. numerals are occasionally somewhat invisible. However, this is a most lovely book: measuring thirteen inches and one quarter, in height, by nine inches and very nearly one quarter in width. VIRGILIUS. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz_. 1471. Folio. SECOND ROMAN EDITION; of yet greater scarcity than the first. This was Politian's own copy, and is so large as to be almost _uncut_: having the margins filled with Scholia, and critical observations, in almost the smallest hand-writing to be met with: supposed to be also from the pen of Politian. The autograph and subscription of that eminent scholar meet our eye at the top of the very first fly leaf. Of all ancient editions of Virgil, this is probably not only the most estimable, but is so scarce as to have been, till lately, perfectly unknown. According to the ancient ms. numerals in this copy, there should be 225 leaves--to render the volume perfect. In our own country, it is-- with a sigh I speak it!--only to be found (and _that_, in an _imperfect_ state) in the library of Dr. Wm. Hunter at Glasgow.[61] This invaluable volume is preserved in good, sound, characteristic old binding. VIRGILIUS. _Printed by Ghering_. 1478. _Quarto_. This impression is perhaps rather rare than valuable; although I am free to admit it is yet a desideratum in the Spencerian collection. It commences with an address by the famous Beroaldus to I. Francus, his pupil, on the reverse of the first leaf--in which the tutor expresses his admiration of Virgil in the following manner: "te amantissime mi Johannes hortor, te moneo, et si pateris oro, ut VIRGILIUM lectites. Virgilio inhies: Illum colas; illum dies noctesque decates. Ille sit semper in manibus. Et ut præceptoris fungar officio, illud potissimum tibi pecipia et repetens iterumque iterumque monebo: ut humanitatis studia ac masuetiores musas avidissime complectaris." This edition is executed in the printer's second (handsome) fount of roman type, upon very thick paper.[62] The present copy, although apparently cropt, is sound and desirable. PLINII HIST. NATURALIS. _Printed by J. de Spira_. 1469. Folio. EDITIO PRINCEPS:--but oh,! marvellous specimen--a copy UPON VELLUM! Fair is the colour and soft is the texture of this exquisite production--bound in two volumes. I examined both volumes thoroughly, and am not sure that I discovered what might be fairly called one discoloured leaf. It is with equal pain and difficulty that one withdraws one's eyes from such a beautiful book-gem. This copy measures fifteen inches and a half, by ten inches and three-eighths. The SAME EDITION. Upon paper. A remarkably fine copy: well beaten however-- and, I should be loth to assert positively, not free from some washing--for the ancient red numerals, introduced by the pencil of the rubricator, and designating the several books and chapters, seem to have faded and been retouched. I observe also, that some of the ancient illuminated letters, which had probably faded during the process of washing or cleaning, have been retouched, and even painted afresh--especially in the blue back-grounds. The first page is prettily illuminated; but there are slight indications of the worm at the end of the volume. Upon the whole, however, this is a magnificent book, and inferior only to Lord Spencer's unrivalled copy--upon paper. It measures sixteen inches and five eighths, by eleven inches and one sixteenth, and is handsomely bound in red morocco. PLINII HISTORIA NATURALIS. _Printed by Jenson_, 1472. Folio. A copy UPON VELLUM: but, upon the whole, I was disappointed in the size and condition of this book. The vellum has not had justice done to it in the binding, being in parts crumpled. The first page is however beautifully illuminated. This copy measures sixteen inches, by ten and three eighths. PLINII HIST. NAT. Italicè. _Printed by Jenson_. 1476. Folio. A copy UPON VELLUM. About the first forty leaves are cruelly stained at top. The last eight or ten leaves are almost of a yellow tint. In other parts, where the vellum is white, (for it is of a remarkably fine quality) nothing can exceed the beauty of this book: but it has been, I suspect, very severely cropt--if an opinion may be formed from its companion upon paper, about to be described. It is fifteen inches in height, by ten and a quarter in width. THE SAME EDITION. _Printed by the same Printer_. I suspect this to be perhaps the finest paper copy in the world: as perfect as Lord Spencer's copy of the first edition of the same author. Every thing breathes of its pristine condition: the colour and the substance of the paper: the width of the margin, and the purity of the embellishments:[63] This copy will also serve to convince the most obstinate, that, when one catches more than a glimpse of the ms. numerals at top, and ms. signatures at bottom, one has hopes of possessing the book in its primitive plenitude. It is sixteen inches and three quarters in height, by nearly eleven inches and a quarter in width. LIVIUS. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz_. 1469. Folio. EDITIO PRINCEPS. A fine copy, in three thin volumes. The margins, however, are not free from ms. notes, and there are palpable evidences of a slight truncation. Yet it is a fine copy: measuring fifteen inches and very nearly three quarters, by eleven inches one eighth. In red morocco binding. LIVIUS. _Printed by Ulric Han_. _Without Date_. Folio. In three thin volumes. A large copy, but evidently much washed, from the faint appearance of the marginal notes. Some leaves are very bad--especially the earlier ones of the preface and the text. The latter, however, have a very pretty ancient illumination. This copy measures fifteen inches five eighths, by ten seven eighths.[64] LIVIUS. _Printed by Vindelin de Spira_. 1470. Fol. A magnificent copy, in two volumes: much preferable to either of the preceding. The first page of text has a fine old illumination. It is clean and sound throughout: measuring fifteen inches five eighths, by eleven inches--within an eighth. THE SAME EDITION. Printed UPON VELLUM. This copy, if I remember rightly, is considered to be unique.[65] It is that which was formerly preserved in the public library at Lyons, and had been lent to the late Duke de la Vallière during his life only--to enrich his book-shelves--having been restored to its original place of destination upon the death of the Duke. It is both in an imperfect and lacerated condition: the latter, owing to a cannon ball, which struck it during the siege of Lyons. The first volume, which begins abruptly thus: "ex parte altera ripe, &c." is a beautiful book; the vellum being of a uniform, but rather yellow tint. It measures fourteen inches five eighths, by nine and six eighths. The second volume makes a kind-hearted bibliographer shudder. The cannon ball took it obliquely, so as to leave the first part of the volume less lacerated than the latter. In the latter part, however, the direction of the destructive weapon went, capriciously enough, across the page. This second volume yet exhibits a fine old illumination on the first page. LIVIUS. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz_. 1472. Fol. 2 vols. A fine copy, and larger than either of the preceding: but the beginning of the first volume and the conclusion of the second are slightly wormed. There is a duplicate leaf of the beginning of the text, which is rather brown, but illuminated in the ancient manner. This copy measures fifteen inches and a half, by eleven one eighth. Let me now vary the bibliographical theme, by the mention of a few copies of works of a miscellaneous but not unamusing character. And first, for a small cluster of CAXTONS and MACHLINIAS. TULLY OF OLD AGE, &C. _Printed by Caxton_, 1481. A cropt and soiled copy; whereas copies of this Caxtonian production are usually in a clean and sound condition. The binding is infinitely too gaudy for the state of the interior. It appears to want the treatise upon Friendship. This book once belonged to William Burton the Leicestershire historian; as we learn from this inscription below the colophon: "_Liber Willmi Burton Lindliaci Leicestrensis socij inter. Templi, ex dono amici mei singularis M^{ri}. Iohanis Price, socij Interioris. Templi, 28. Jan. 1606. Anno regni regis Iacobi quarto_." On the reverse is a fac-simile of the same subscription, beneath an exceedingly well executed head of Burton, in pen and ink. ART AND CRAFTE TO KNOW WELL TO DYE. _Printed by Caxton_. 1490. Folio. This book was sold to the Royal Library of France, many years ago, by Mr. Payne, for the moderate sum of £10. 10s. It is among the rarest of the volumes from the press of Caxton. Every leaf of this copy exhibits proof of the skill and care of Roger Payne; for every leaf is inlaid and mounted, with four lines of red ink round each page--not perhaps in the very best taste. The copy is also cramped or choked in the back. STATUTES OF RICHARD III. _Printed by Machlinia_. Folio. _Without Date_. A perfect copy for size and condition; but the binding is much too gay. I refer you to the Typographical Antiquities[66] for an account of this edition: NOVA STATUTA. _Printed by the Same_. Folio. You must examine the pages last referred to, for a description of this elaborately executed volume; printed upon paper of an admirable quality. The present is a sound, clean, and desirable copy: but why in such gay, red morocco, binding? LIBER MODORUM SIGNIFICANDI. _Printed at St. Alban's_; 1480. Quarto. The only copy of this rare volume I have ever seen. It appears to be bound in what is called the old Oxford binding, and the text is preceded by a considerable quantity of old coeval ms. relating to the science of arithmetic. A full page has thirty-two lines. The signatures _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, _e_, run in eights: _f_ has six leaves. On the recto of _f_ vj is the colophon: This copy had belonged successively to Tutet and Wodhull. A ms. treatise, in a later hand, concludes the volume. The present is a sound and desirable copy. BOCCACCIO. IL DECAMERONE. _Printed by Valdarfer_. 1471. Folio. This is the famous edition about which all the Journals of Europe have recently "rung from side to side." But it wants much in value of THE yet more famous COPY[67] which was sold at the sale of the Duke of Roxburghe's library; inasmuch as it is defective in the first leaf of the text, and three leaves of the table. In the whole, according to the comparatively recent numerals, there are 265 leaves. This copy measures eleven inches and a half, by seven inches and seven eighths. It is bound in red morocco, with inside marble leaves. THE SAME WORK. _Printed by P. Adam de Michaelibus_. _Mantua_, 1472. An edition of almost equal rarity with the preceding; and of which, I suspect, there is only one perfect copy (at Blenheim) in our own country. The table contains seven leaves; and the text, according to the numbers of this copy, has 256 leaves. A full page has forty-one lines. The present is a sound, genuine copy; measuring, exclusively of the cover, twelve inches three eighths, by eight seven eighths. BOCCACE. RUINES DES NOBLES HOMMES & FEMMES. _Printed by Colard Mansion, at Bruges_. 1476. Folio. This edition is printed in double columns, in Mansion's larger type, precisely similar to what has been published in the Bibliotheca Spenceriana.[68] The title is in red--with a considerable space below, before the commencement of the text, as if this vacuum were to be supplied by the pencil of the illuminator. The present is a remarkably fine copy. The colophon is in six lines. FAIT DE LA GUERRE. _Printed by Colard Mansion_. _Without Date_. Folio. This rare book is printed in a very different type from that usually known as the type of Colard Mansion: being smaller and closer--but decidedly gothic. A full page has thirty-two lines. There are neither numerals, signatures, nor catchwords. On the recto of the twenty-ninth and last leaf, we read _Impressum brugis per Colardum Mansion._ The reverse is blank. This is a fine genuine copy, in red morocco binding. LASCARIS GRAMMATICA GRÆCA. 1476. Quarto. The first book printed in the Greek language; and, as such, greatly sought after by the curious. This is a clean, neat copy, but I suspect a little washed and cropt. Nevertheless, it is a most desirable volume.[69] AULUS GELLIUS. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz_. 1469. Folio. Editio Princeps. A sound and rather fine copy: almost the whole of the old ms. numerals at top remaining. It is very slightly wormed at the beginning. This copy measures thirteen inches by nine. CÆSAR. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz_. 1469. Folio. Editio Princeps: with ms. notes by Victorius. A large sound copy, but the first few leaves are soiled or rather thumbed. The marginal edges are apparently uncut. It measures twelve inches seven eighths by nine inches one eighth. APULEIUS. _Printed by the Same_. 1469. Folio. Editio Princeps. All these FIRST EDITIONS are of considerable rarity. The present copy is, upon the whole, large and sound: though not free from marginal notes and stains. The first few leaves at top are slightly injured. It measures thirteen inches one eighth, by nine inches.[70] AUSONIUS. 1472. Folio: with all the accompanying pieces.[71] Editio Princeps; and undoubtedly much rarer than either of the preceding volumes. Of the present copy, the first few leaves are wormed in the centre, and a little stained. The first illuminated leaf of the text is stained; so is the second leaf, not illuminated. In the whole, eighty-six leaves. The latter leaves are wormed. This copy is evidently cropt. CATULLUS, TIBULLUS & PROPERTIUS. 1472. Folio. Editio Princeps. Of equal, if not greater, rarity than even the Ausonius. This is a sound and very desirable copy--displaying the ancient ms. signatures. The edges of the leaves are rather of a foxy tint. After the Catullus, a blank leaf. This copy measures eleven inches one eighth, by very nearly seven inches five eighths. HOMERI OPERA. Gr. 1488. Folio. Editio Princeps. When you are informed that this copy is ... UNCUT ... you will necessarily figure to yourself a volume of magnificent, as well as pristine, dimensions. Yet, without putting on spectacles, one discovers occasionally a few foxy spots towards the edges; and the first few leaves are perhaps somewhat tawny. Upon the whole, however, the condition is wonderful: and I am almost ashamed of myself at having talked about foxy spots and tawny tints. This copy is bound in red morocco, in a sensible, unassuming manner. For the comfort of such, whose copies aspire to the distinction of being _almost_ uncut, I add, that this volume measures fourteen inches, by about nine inches and five eighths. HOMERI OPERA. Gr. 1808. _Printed by Bodoni_. Folio. 2 volumes. This grand copy is printed UPON VELLUM, and is the presentation copy to Bonaparte--to whom this edition was dedicated, by Bodoni.[72] Splendid, large, and beautiful, as is this typographical performance, I must candidly own that there is something about it which "likes me not." The vellum, however choice, and culled by Bodoni's most experienced foragers, is, to my eye, too white--which arises perhaps from the text occupying so comparatively small a space in the page. Nor is the type pleasing to my taste. It is too cursive and sparkling; and the upper strokes are uniformly too thin. In short, the whole has a cold effect. However, this is questionless one of the most magnificent productions of the modern press. The volumes measure two feet in length. CRONIQUES DE FRANCE. _Printed by Verard_. 1493. Folio. Three vols. A glorious copy--printed UPON VELLUM! The wood-cuts are coloured. It is bound in red morocco. LAUNCELOT DU LAC. _Printed by Verard_. 1494. Folio. 3 vols. Also UPON VELLUM. In red morocco binding. There is yet another copy of the same date, upon vellum, but with different illuminations: equally magnificent and covetable. In red morocco binding. GYRON LE COURTOYS: auecques la devise des armes de tous les cheualiers de la table ronde. _Printed by Verard_. _Without Date_. Folio. Printed UPON VELLUM. This was once a fine thumping fellow of a copy!--but it has lost somewhat of its stature by the knife of the binder--or rather from the destruction of the Library of St. Germain des Près: whence it was thrown into the streets, and found next day by M. Van Praet. Many of the books, from the same library, were thrown into cellars. It is evident, from the larger illuminations, and especially from the fourth, on the recto of _d vj_, that this volume has suffered in the process of binding. In old blue morocco. ROMAN DE LA ROSE. _Printed by Verard_. _Without Date_. Small folio. In double columns, in prose. This superbly bound volume--once the property of H. Durfé, having his arms in the centre, and corner embellishments, in metal, on which are the entwined initials T.C.--is but an indifferent copy. It is printed UPON VELLUM; and has been, as I suspect, rather cruelly cropt in the binding. Much of the vellum is also crumpled and tawny. L'HORLOGE DE SAPIENCE. _Printed by Verard_. 1493. Folio. One of the loveliest books ever opened, and printed UPON VELLUM. Every thing is here perfect. The page is finely proportioned, the vellum is exceedingly beautiful, and the illuminations have a brilliance and delicacy of finish not usually seen in volumes of this kind. The borders are decorated by the pencil, and the second may be considered quite perfect of its kind. This book is bound by Bradel l'Ainé. MILLES ET AMYS. _Printed by Verard_. _Without Date_. Folio. A copy UPON VELLUM. From the same library as the copy of the Roman de la Rose, just described; and in the same style of binding. It is kept in the same case; but, although cropt, it is a much finer book. The cuts are coloured, and the text is printed in double columns. I do not at this present moment remember to have seen another copy of this edition of the work. IEU DES ESCHEZ. _Without name of Printer (but probably by Verard) or Date_. Folio.[73] This is one of the numerous French originals from which Caxton printed his well known moralised work, under the title of the _Game and Play of the Chesse_. This fine copy is printed UPON VELLUM, in a large gothic letter, in double columns. The type has rather an uneven appearance, from the thickness of the vellum. There are several large prints, which, in this copy, are illuminated. L'ARBRE DES BATAILLES. _Printed by Verard_. 1493. Folio. Another fine volume, printed UPON VELLUM. With the exception only of one or two crumpled or soiled leaves, this copy is as perfect as can be desired. Look from _d iiij_. to _ej_, for a set of exquisitely printed leaves upon vellum, which cannot be surpassed. The cuts are here coloured in the usually bold and brilliant style. LA CHASSE ET LE DEPART D'AMOURS. _Printed by Verard_. 1509. Folio. This volume of interesting old French poetry, UPON VELLUM, which is printed in double columns, formerly belonged to the abbey of St. Germain des Près--as an inscription upon the title denotes. The work abounds with very curious, and very delectable old French poetry. Look, amongst a hundred other similar things, at the _"Balade ioyeuse des taverniers_," on the reverse _Q_. i: each stanza ending with _Les tauerniers qui brouillent nostre vin._ LA NEF DES FOLZ DU MONDE. _Printed by Verard. Without Date_. Folio. A most magnificent copy; printed UPON VELLUM. Every page is highly illuminated, with ample margins. What is a little extraordinary, the reverse of the sixth leaf has ms. text above and below the large illumination; while the recto of the same leaf has printed text. The present noble volume, which has the royal arms stamped on the exterior, is one of the few old books which has not suffered amputation by recent binding. THE SAME WORK. _Printed by the Same_. Folio. The poetry is in double columns, and the cuts are coloured. I apprehend this copy to be much cropt. It is UPON VELLUM: rather tawny, but upon the whole exceedingly sound and desirable. L'ART DE BIEN MOURIR. _Printed for Verard_. _Without Date_. Folio. A fragment only of the Work. In large gothic type; double columns: cuts coloured. There are two cuts of demons torturing people in a cauldron, such as may be seen in the second volume of my Typographical Antiquities.[74] Some of these cuts, in turn, may be taken from the older ones in block books. The present copy is UPON VELLUM, rather tawny: but it is large and sound. In calf binding. PARABOLES [de] MAISTRE ALAIN [De Lille] _Printed by Verard_, 1492. Folio. A magnificent volume, for size and condition. It is printed in Verard's large type, in long lines. The illuminations are highly coloured. This copy is UPON VELLUM.[75] Suppose, now, I throw in a little variety from the preceding, by the mention of a rare _Italian_ book or two? Let me place before you a choice copy of the MONTE SANCTO DI DIO. _Printed in 1477_. Folio. This, you know, is the volume about which the collectors of early copper-plate engraving are never thoroughly happy until they possess a perfect copy of it: perhaps a copy of a more covetable description than that which is now before me. There is a duplicate of the first cut: of which one impression is faint, and miserably coloured, and the other is so much cut away to the left, as to deprive the man, looking up, of his left arm. There is an exceedingly well executed duplicate of the large Christ, drawn with a pen. In the genuine print there is too much of the burr. The impression of the Devil eating human beings, within the lake of fire, is a good bold one. This copy is bound in red morocco, but in a flaunting style of ornament. LA SFORZIADA. _Printed in 1480_. Folio. It is just possible you may not have forgotten the description of a copy of this work--like the present, struck off UPON VELLUM--which appears in the _Bibliographical Decameron_.[76] That copy, you may remember, adorns the choice collection of our friend George Hibbert, Esq.[77] The book before me is doubtless a most exquisite one; and the copy is of large dimensions. The illuminated first page very strongly resembles that in the copy just mentioned. The portraits appear to be the same: but the Cardinal is differently habited, and his phisiognomical expression is less characteristic here than in the same portrait in Mr. Hibbert's copy. The head of Duke Sforza, his brother, seems to be about the same. The lower compartment of this splendidly illuminated page differs materially from that of Mr. Hibbert's copy. There are two figures kneeling, apparently portraits; with the sea in the distance. The figure of St. Louis appears in the horizon--very curious. To the right, there are rabbits within an enclosure, and human beings growing into trees. The touch and style of the whole are precisely similar to what we observe in the other copy so frequently mentioned. The capital initials are also very similar. It is a pity that, during the binding, (which is in red morocco) the vellum has been so very much crumpled. This copy measures thirteen inches and seven eighths, by nine inches and three eighths. I must now lay before you a few more Classics, and conclude the whole with miscellaneous articles. TERENTIUS. _Printed by Ulric Han_. Folio. _Without date_. In all probability the first edition of the author by Ulric Han, and perhaps the second in chronological order; that of Mentelin being considered the first. It is printed in Ulric Han's larger roman type. This may be considered a fine genuine copy--in old French binding, with the royal arms. ARISTOTELIS OPERA. _Printed by Aldus_. 1495, &c. 6 vols. Would you believe it--here are absolutely TWO copies of this glorious effort of the Aldine Press, printed UPON VELLUM!? One copy belonged to the famous _Henri II. and Diane de Poictiers_, and is about an eighth of an inch taller and wider than the other; but the other has not met with fair play, from the unskilful manner in which it has been bound--in red morocco. Perhaps the interior of this second copy may be preferred to that of Henri II. The illuminations are ancient, and elegantly executed, and the vellum seems equally white and beautiful. Probably the tone of the vellum in the other copy may be a _little_ more sombre, but there reigns throughout it such a sober, uniform, mellow and genuine air--that, brilliant and captivating as may be the red morocco copy--_he_ ought to think more than _once_ or _twice_ who should give it the preference. The arms of the morocco copy, in the first page of the Life of Aristotle, from Diogenes Laertius, have been cut out. This copy came from the monastery of St. Salvador; and the original, roughly stamped, edges of the leaves are judiciously preserved in the binding. Both copies have the _first_ volume upon _paper_. Indeed it seems now clearly ascertained that it was never printed upon vellum.[78] The copy of Henri II. measures twelve inches and a quarter, by eight and an eighth. PLUTARCHI OPUSCULA MORALIA. _Printed by Aldus_. 1509. Folio. 2 vols. Another, delicious MEMBRANACEOUS treasure from the fine library of Henri II. and Diane de Poictiers; in the good old original coverture, besprinkled with interlaced D's and H's. It is in truth a lovely book--measuring ten inches and five eighths, by seven inches and three eighths; but I suspect a little cropt. Some of the vellum is also rather tawny--especially the first and second leaves, and the first page of the text of Plutarch. These volumes reminded me of the first Aldine Plato, also UPON VELLUM, in the library of Dr. W. Hunter; but I question if the Plato be _quite_ so beautiful a production. EUSTATHIUS IN HOMERUM. 1542. Folio. 4 vols. Printed UPON VELLUM--and probably unique. A set of matchless volumes--yet has the binder done them great injustice, by the manner in which the backs are cramped or choked. The exteriors, in blazing red morocco, are not in the very best taste. A good deal of the vellum is also of too yellow a tint, but it is of a most delicate quality. ARISTOTELIS ETHICA NICHOMACHEA. Gr. This volume forms a part only of the first Aldine edition of the Nichomachean ethics of Aristotle. The margins are plentifully charged with the Scholia of Basil the Great, as we learn from an original letter of "Constantinus Palæocappa, grecus" to Henry the Second--whose book it was, and who shewed the high sense he entertained of the Scholia, by having the volume bound in a style of luxury and splendour beyond any thing which I remember to have seen--as coming from his library. The reverse of the first leaf exhibits a beautiful frame work, of silver ornaments upon a black ground--now faded; with the initials and devices of Henry and Diane de Poictiers. Their arms and supporters are at top. Within this frame work is the original and beautifully written letter of Constantine Palæocappa. On the opposite page the text begins--surrounded by the same brilliant kind of ornament; having an initial H of extraordinary beauty. The words, designating the Scholia, are thus: [Greek: META SCHOLIÔN BASILEIOU TOU MEGALOU.] These Scholia are written in a small, close, and yet free Greek character, with frequent contractions. Several other pages exhibit the peculiar devices of Henry and Diana--having silver crescents and arrow-stocked quivers. This book is bound in boards, and covered with dark green velvet, now almost torn to threads. In its original condition, it must have been an equally precious and resplendent tome. It measures twelve inches and a quarter, by eight inches and three eighths. EUCLIDES. _Printed by Ratdolt_. 1482. Folio. A copy UPON VELLUM. The address of Ratdolt, as it sometimes occurs, is printed in golden letters; but I was disappointed in the view of this book. Unluckily the first leaf of the text is ms. but of the time. At the bottom, in an ancient hand, we read "_Monasterii S. Saluatoris bonon. signatus In Inuentario numero 524._" It is a large copy, but the vellum is rather tawny. PRISCIANUS. _Printed by V. de Spira_. 1470. Folio. First edition, UPON VELLUM. This is a book, of which, as you may remember, some mention has been previously made;[79] and I own I was glad to turn over the membranaceous leaves of a volume which had given rise, at the period of its acquisition, to a good deal of festive mirth. At the first glance of it, I recognised the cropping system. The very first page of the text has lost, if I may so speak, its head and shoulders: nor is such amputation to be wondered at, when we read, to the left, "_Relié par_ DEROME dit le Jeune." Would you believe it--nearly one half of the illumination, at top, has been sliced away? The vellum is beautifully delicate, but unluckily not uniformly white. Slight, but melancholy, indications of the worm are visible at the beginning--which do not, however, penetrate a great way. Yet, towards the end, the ravages of this book-devourer are renewed: and the six last leaves exhibit most terrific evidences of his power. This volume is bound in gay green morocco--with water-tabby pink lining. BUDÆUS. COMMENT. GR. LING. 1529. Folio. Francis the First's own copy--and UPON VELLUM! You may remember that this book was slightly alluded to at the commencement of a preceding letter. It is indeed a perfect gem, and does one's heart good to look at it. Budæus was the tutor of Francis, and I warrant that he selected the very leaves, of which this copy is composed, for his gallant pupil. Old Ascensius was the printer: which completes the illustrious trio. The illuminations, upon the rectos of the first and second leaves, are as beautiful as they are sound. Upon the whole, this book may fairly rank with any volume in either of the vellum sets of the Aldine Aristotle. It is bound in red morocco; a little too gaudily. CICERONIS ORATIONES. _Printed by Valdarfer_. 1471: Folio. Still revelling among VELLUM copies of the early classics. This is a fine book, but it is unluckily imperfect. I should say that it was of large and genuine dimensions, did not a little close cropping upon the first illuminated page tell a different tale. It measures twelve inches and six eighths, by eight inches and a half. Upon the whole, though there be a few uncomfortably looking perforations of the worm, this is a very charming copy. Its imperfections do not consist of more than the deficiency of one leaf, which contains the table. OVIDII OPERA OMNIA. _Printed by Azoguidi_. 1471. Folio. 3 vols. The supposed FIRST EDITION, and perhaps (when complete)[80] the rarest Editio Princeps in existence. The copy before me partakes of the imperfection of almost every thing earthly. It wants two leaves: but it is a magnificent, and I should think unrivalled, copy--bating such imperfection. It measures very nearly thirteen inches and a quarter, by little more than eight inches three quarters. It is bound in red morocco. ÆSOPUS. Latinè. _Printed by Dom. de Vivaldis, &c_. 1481. Folio. A most singular volume--in hexameter and pentameter, verses. To every fable is a wood cut, quite in the ballad style of execution, with a back-ground like coarse mosaic work. The text is printed in a large clumsy gothic letter. The present is a sound copy, but not free from stain. Bound in blue morocco. ÆSOPUS. Italicè. _Edited by Tuppi_. 1485. Folio. A well known and highly coveted edition: but copies are very rare, especially when of goodly dimensions. This is a large and beautiful book; although I observe that the border, on the right margin of the first leaf, is somewhat cut away. The graphic art in this volume has a very imposing appearance. ---- Germanicè. _Without Date or Name of Printer_. Folio. This edition is printed in a fine large open gothic type. There is the usual whole length cut of Æsop. The other cuts are spirited, after the fashion of those in Boccacio De Malis Mulier. Illust.--printed by John Zeiner at Ulm in 1473. The present is a fine, sound copy: in red morocco binding. ÆSOPUS. Germanicè. _Without Date, &c_. Folio. This impression, which, like the preceding, is destitute of signatures and catchwords, is printed in a smaller gothic type. The wood cuts are spirited, with more of shadow. Some of the initial letters are pretty and curious. Some of the pages (see the last but fifteen) contain as many as forty-five lines. The present is a fine, large copy. ---- Hispanicè. _Printed at Burgos._ 1496. Folio. This is a beautiful and interesting volume, full of wood cuts. The title is within a broad bold border, thus: "_Libro del asopo famoso fabulador historiado en romace_." On the reverse is the usual large wood cut of Æsop, but his mouth is terribly diminished in size. The leaves are numbered in large roman numerals. A fine clean copy, in blue morocco binding. And now, my dear friend, let us both breathe a little, by way of cessation from labour: yourself from reading, and your correspondent from the exercise of his pen. I own that I am fairly tired ... but in a few days I shall resume the BOOK THEME with as much ardour as heretofore. [43] In his meditated Catalogue raisonné of the books PRINTED UPON VELLUM in the Royal Library. [This Catalogue is now printed, in 8vo. 5 vols. 1822. There are copies on LARGE PAPER. It is a work in all respects worthy of the high reputation of its author. A _Supplement_ to it--of books printed UPON VELLUM in _other_ public, and many distinguished _private_ libraries, appeared in 1824, 8vo. 3 vols.--with two additional volumes in 1828. These volumes are the joy of the heart of a thorough bred Bibliographer.] [44] The measurement is necessarily confined to the leaves--_exclusively_ of the binding. [45] See the Art. "_Roman de Jason_" [46] [There are, now, ten known _perfect_ copies of this book, of which six are in England. M. Renouard, in his recent edition of the _Annals of the Aldine Press_, vol. i. p. 36, has been copious and exact.] [47] [Since bound in blue morocco by Thouvenin.] [48] [This anecdote, in the preceding Edition of the Tour, was told, inaccurately, as belonging to the Caxton's edition of the _Recueil des Hist. de Troye_: see p. 102 ante. I thank M. Crapelet for the correction.] [49] _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. i. p. 107, &c. [50] [The finest copy in the world of the second edition, as to amplitude, is, I believe, that in the Bodleian library at Oxford. A very singular piece of good fortune has now made it PERFECT. It was procured by Messrs. Payne and Foss of M. Artaria at Manheim.] [51] Nine years ago I obtained a fac-simile of this memorandum; and published an Essay upon the antiquity of the date of the above Bible, in the _Classical Journal_, vol. iv. p. 471-484. of Mr. J.A. Valpy. But latterly a more complete fac-simile of it appeared in the Catalogue of Count M'Carthy's books. [52] "_Iste liber illuminatus, ligatus & completus est per Henricum Cremer vicariu ecclesie sancti Stephani Maguntini sub anno dni Millesimo quatringentesimo quinquagesimo sexto, festo Assumptionis gloriose virginis Marie. Deo gracias. Alleluja_." [53] [This copy having one leaf of MS.--but executed with such extraordinary accuracy as almost to deceive the most experienced eye--was sold in 1827, by public auction, for 504_l_. and is now in the collection of Henry Perkins, Esq.] [54] _Bibl. Spenceriana_; vol. i. p. 85-89. [55] _Bibl. Spenceriana_; vol. i. p. 103-4; where there is also an account of the book itself--from the description of Camus. The work is entitled by Camus, The ALLEGORY OF DEATH. [56] This subject is briefly noticed in the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. 371; and the book itself is somewhat particularly described there. I think I remember Lord Spencer to have once observed, that more than a slight hope was held out to him, by the late Duke of Brunswick, of obtaining this typographical treasure. This was before the French over-ran Prussia. [57] See _Bibl. Spenceriana_; vol. iii. p. 129, vol. iv. p. 500. [58] Vol. iii. p. 484. [59] [I had said "De Rome"--incorrectly--in the previous edition. "M. Dibdin poursuit partout d'un trait vengeur le coupable Derome: mais ici c'est au relieur CHAMOT qu'il doit l'addresser." CRAPELET; vol. iii. p. 268.] [60] [The very sound copy of it, upon paper, belonging to the late Sir M.M. Sykes, Bart. was sold at the sale of his library for 100 guineas.] [61] That sigh has at length ceased to rend my breast. It will be seen, from the sequel of this Tour, that a good, sound, perfect copy of it, now adorns the shelves of the _Spencerion Library_. The VIRGILS indeed, in that library, are perfectly unequalled throughout Europe. [62] [There is a fine copy of this very rare edition in the Public Library at Cambridge.] [63] [Fine as is this book, it is yet inferior in _altitude_ to the copy in the Public Library at Cambridge.] [64] [There was another copy of this edition, free from the foregoing objections, which had escaped me. This omission frets M. Crapelet exceedingly; but I can assure him that it was unintentional; and that I have a far greater pleasure in describing _fine_, than _ordinary_, copies--be they WHOSE they may.] [65] [Not so. There was another copy upon vellum, in the library of Count Melzi, which is now in that of G.H. Standish, Esq. I _know_ that 500 guineas were once offered for this most extraordinary copy, bound in 3 volumes in foreign coarse vellum.] [66] Vol. ii. p. 11: or to the _Bibliotheca Spenceriana_; vol. iv. p. 385. [67] Now in Lord Spencer's Collection. [68] Vol. i. p. 281-2. [69] [To the best of my recollection and belief, the finest copy of this most estimable book, is that in the Library of the Rt. Hon. Thomas Grenville.] [70] [The finest copy of this valuable edition, which I ever saw, is that in the Public Library at Cambridge.] [71] _See Bibl. Spenceriana_; vol. i. page 272. [72] [I had called it a UNIQUE copy; but M. Crapelet says, that there was a second similar copy, offered to the late Eugene Beauharnais.] [73] [It is the Edition of Verard, of the date of 1504. The copy looks as if it had neither Printer's name or date, because the last lines of the colophon have been defaced. See _Cat. des Livr. Iniprim. sur Vèlin de la Bibl. du Roi_. vol. iii. p. 35. CRAPELET.] [74] At page 599, &c. [75] [See _Cat. des Livr. sur Vélin_, vol. iv. No. 236.] [76] Vol. iii. p. 176. [77] [Mr. Hibbert's beautiful copy, above referred to, is about to be sold at the sale of his library, in the ensuing Spring; and is fully described in the Catalogue of that Library, at p. 414: But the fac-simile portrait of Francis Sforza, prefixed to the Catalogue, wants, I suspect, the high finished brilliancy, or force, of the original.] [78] [Not so: see the _Introduction to the Classics_, vol. 1. p. 313. edit. 1827 The _only known_ copy of the first volume, UPON VELLUM, is that in the Library of New College, Oxford.] [79] See the _Bibliographical Decameron_; vol. iii. p. 165. [80] [The only ENTIRELY PERFECT copy in Europe, to my knowledge, is that in the library of the Right Hon. Thomas Grenville.] _LETTER VI._ CONCLUSION OF THE ACCOUNT OF THE ROYAL LIBRARY. THE LIBRARY OF THE ARSENAL. My last letter left me on the first floor of the Royal Library. I am now about to descend, and to take you with me to the ground floor--where, as you may remember I formerly remarked, are deposited the _Aldine Vellums_ and _Large Papers_, and choice and curious copies from the libraries of _Grolier, Diane de Poictiers_, and _de Thou_. The banquet is equally delicious of its kind, although the dishes are of a date somewhat more remote from the time of Apicius. Corresponding with the almost interminable suite of book-rooms above, is a similar suite below stairs: but the general appearance of the latter is comparatively cold, desolate, and sombre. The light comes in, to the right, less abundantly; and, in the first two rooms, the garniture of the volumes is less brilliant and attractive. In short, these first two lower rooms may be considered rather as the depot for the cataloguing and forwarding of all modern books recently purchased. Let me now conduct you to the _third room_ in this lower suite, which may probably have a more decided claim upon your attention. Here are deposited, as I just observed, the VELLUM ALDUSES and other curious and choice old printed volumes. I will first mention nearly the whole of the former. HOMERI OPERA. Gr. _Printed by Aldus. Without Date_. 8vo. 2 vols. A white and beautiful copy--with large, and genuine margins--printed UPON VELLUM. In its original binding, with the ornaments tolerably entire:--and what binding should this be, but that of Henry the Second and Diane de Poictiers? Let me just notice that this copy measures six inches and a half, by three inches and six eighths. EURIPIDIS OPERA. Gr. 1503. 8vo. 2 vols. A fair and desirable copy UPON VELLUM; but a little objectionable, as being ruled with red lines rather unskilfully. It is somewhat coarsely bound in red morocco, and preserved in a case. This vellum treasure is among the desiderata of Earl Spencer's library; and I sincerely wish his Lordship no worse luck than the possession of a copy like that before me.[81] HECUBA, ET IPHIGENIA IN AULIDE. Gr. and Lat. 1507. 8vo. A very rare book, and quite perfect, as far as it goes. This copy, also UPON VELLUM, is much taller than the preceding of the entire works of Euripides; but the vellum is not of so white a tint. ANTHOLOGIA GRÆCA. Gr. 1503. 8vo. A very fine genuine copy, upon excellent VELLUM. I suspect this copy to be a little broader, but by no means taller, than a similar copy in Lord Spencer's collection. HORATIUS. 1501. 8vo. UPON VELLUM: a good, sound copy; although inferior to Lord Spencer's. MARTIALIS. 1502. 8vo. Would you believe it?--here are _two_ copies UPON VELLUM, and _both_ originally belonged to Grolier. They are differently illuminated, but the tallest--measuring six inches three eighths, by three inches six eighths--is the whitest, and the preferable copy, notwithstanding one may discern the effects of the nibbling of a worm at the bottom corner. It is, however, a beautiful book, in every respect. The initial letters are gold. In the other copy there are the arms of Grolier, with a pretty illumination in the first page of the text. It is also a sound copy. LUCRETIUS. 1515. 8vo. This copy, UPON VELLUM, is considered to be unique. It is fair, sound, and in all respects desirable. CICERO DE OFFICIIS. _Without Date_. 8vo. This is but a moderate specimen of the Aldine VELLUM, if it be not a counterfeit--which I suspect.[82] CICERONIS ORATIONES. 1519. 8vo. UPON VELLUM. Only the first volume, which however is quite perfect and desirable--measuring six inches and a quarter, by very nearly four inches. But prepare for an account of a perfect, and still more magnificent, vellum copy of the Orations of Cicero--when I introduce you to the _Library of St. Geneviève_. HIST. AUGUST. SCRIPTORES. 1521. 8vo. 2 vols. A sound and fair copy--of course UPON VELLUM--but too much cropt in the binding. The foregoing are all the _Aldine, Greek and Latin Classics_, printed UPON VELLUM, which the liberal kindness of M. Van Praet enabled me to lay my hands upon. But here follows another membranaceous gem of the Aldine Family. PETRARCHA. 1501. 8vo. A beautiful, white copy, measuring six inches and a half, by three and three quarters. It is, however, somewhat choked in the binding, (in blue morocco) as too many of Bozerian's performances usually are.[83] Close to this book is the Giunta reprint of 1515--ALSO UPON VELLUM: but of a foxy and unpleasing tint. Now for a few LARGE PAPER ALDUSES--of a variety of forms and of characters. But I must premise that the ensuing list of those upon vellum, is very far indeed from being complete. HORÆ. Gr. 1497. 12mo. A beautiful copy, among the very rarest of books which have issued from the Aldine press. Here is also _one_ volume of the Aldine ARISTOTLE, upon _large paper_: and only one. Did the _remaining_ volumes ever so exist? I should presume they did. BIBLIA GRÆCA. 1518. Folio. Upon _thick paper_. Francis the First's own copy. A glorious and perhaps matchless copy. Yet it is rebacked, in modern binding, in a manner ... almost shameful! PLAUTUS. 1522. Small quarto. A very fine copy; in all appearance large paper, and formerly belonging to Grolier. AUSONIUS. 1517. 8vo. Large paper; very fine; and belonging to the same. VALERIUS MAXIMUS. 1534. 8vo. The same--in _all_ respects. PRISCIANUS. 1527. 8vo. Every characteristic before mentioned. SANNAZARII ARCADIA. _Ital_. 1514. 8vo. The same. ---- _De Partu Virginis_. 1533. 8vo. An oblong, large paper Grolier, like most of the preceding. ISOCRATES. Gr. 1534. Folio. EUSTRATIUS IN ARISTOT. Gr. 1536. Both upon _large paper_, of the largest possible dimensions, and in the finest possible condition; add to which--rich and rare old binding! Both these books, upon large paper, are wanting in Lord Spencer's collection; but then, as a pretty stiff set-off, his Lordship has the THEMISTIUS of 1534-- which, for size and condition, may challenge either of the preceding--and which is here wanting. GALENUS. 1525. Gr. Folio. 5 vols. A matchless set, upon _large paper_. The binding claims as much attention, before you open the volumes, as does a finely-proportioned Greek portico--ere you enter the temple or the mansion. The foregoing are all, doubtless, equally splendid and uncommon specimens of the beauty and magnificence of the press of the _Alduses_: and they are also, with very few exceptions, as intrinsically valuable as they are fine. I shall conclude my survey of these lower-book-regions by noticing a few more uncommon books of their kind. CATHARIN DE SIENA. 1500. Folio. This volume is also a peculiarity in the Aldine department. It is, in the first place, a very fine copy--and formerly belonged to Anne of Brittany. In the second place, it has a wood-cut prefixed, and several introductory pieces, which, if I remember rightly, do not belong to Lord Spencer's copy of the same edition. ISOCRATES. Gr. _Printed at Milan_. 1493. Folio. What is somewhat singular, there is another copy of this book which has a title and imprint of the date of 1535 or 1524; in which the old Greek character of the body of the work is rather successfully imitated.[84] BIBLIA POLYGLOTTA COMPLUTENSIA. 1516-22. Fol. 6 vols. I doubt exceedingly whether this be not the largest and finest copy in existence. It may possibly be even _large paper_--but certainly, if otherwise, it is among the most ample and beautiful. The colour, throughout, is white and uniform; which is not the usual characteristic of copies of this work. It measures fourteen inches and three quarters in height, and belonged originally to Henry II. and Diane de Poictiers. It wanted only _this_ to render it unrivalled; and it now undoubtedly _is_ so. TESTAMENTUM NOVUM. Gr. _Printed by R. Stephen_. 1550. Folio. Another treasure from the same richly-fraught collection. It is quite a perfect copy; but some of the silver ornaments of the sides have been taken off. Let me now place before you a few more testimonies of the splendour of that library, which was originally the chief ornament of the _Chateau d'Anet_,[85] and not of the Louvre. HERODOTUS. Gr. _Printed by Aldus_, 1502. Folio. I had long supposed Lord Spencer's copy--like this, upon LARGE PAPER--to be the finest first Aldine Herodotus in existence: but the first glimpse only of the present served to dissipate that belief. What must repeated glimpses have produced? LUCIANUS. Gr. _Printed by the Same_. 1503. Folio. Equally beautiful--large, white, and crackling--with the preceding. SUIDAS. Gr. _Printed by the Same_. 1503. Folio. The same praise belongs to this copy; which, like its precursors, is clothed in the first mellow and picturesque binding. EUSTATHIUS IN HOMERUM. 1542. Folio. 3 vols. A noble copy--eclipsed perhaps, in amplitude only, by that in the collection of Mr. Grenville. DION CASSIUS. Gr. 1548. Folio. APPIANUS. Gr. 1551. Folio. DIONYSIUS HALICARNASSENSIS. 1546. Folio. These exquisitely well printed volumes are from the press of the Stephens. The present copies, clothed in their peculiar bindings, are perhaps the most beautiful that exist. They are from the library of the Chateau d'Anet. Let it not be henceforth said that the taste of Henri II. was not _well_ directed by the influence of Diane de Poictiers, in the choice of BOOKS. CICERONIS OPERA OMNIA. _Printed by the Giunti_, 1534. Folio. 4 vols. I introduce this copy to your notice, because there are four leaves of _Various Readings_, at the end of the fourth volume, which M. Van Praet said he had never observed, nor heard of, in any other copy.[86] I think also that there are two volumes of the same edition upon LARGE PAPER:--the rest being deficient. Does any perfect copy, of this kind, exist? POETÆ GRÆCI HEROICI. 1556. _Printed by H. Stephen._ Folio. De Thou's own copy--and, upon the whole, perhaps MATCHLESS. The sight of this splendid volume would repay the toil of a pilgrimage of some fourscore miles, over Lapland snows. There is another fine copy of the same edition, which belonged to Diana and her royal slave; but it is much inferior to De Thou's. The frequent mention of DE THOU reminds me of the extraordinary number of copies, which came from his library, and which are placed upon the shelves of the _fourth_ or following room. Perhaps no other library can boast of such a numerous collection of similar copies. It was, while gazing upon these interesting volumes along with M. Van Praet, that the latter told me he remembered seeing the ENTIRE LIBRARY of De Thou--before it was dispersed by the sale of the collection of the Prince de Soubise in 1788--in which it had been wholly embodied, partly by descent, and partly by purchase. And now farewell ... to the BIBLIOTHÈQUE DU ROI. We have, I think, tarried in it a good long time; and recreated ourselves with a profusion of RICH AND RARE GEMS in the book-way--whether as specimens of the pencil, or of the press. I can never regret the time so devoted--nor shall ever banish from my recollection the attention, civility, and kindness which I have received, from all quarters, in this magnificent library. It remains only to shake hands with the whole _Corps Bibliographique_, who preside over these regions of knowledge, and whose names have been so frequently mentioned--and, making our bow, to walk arm in arm together to the LIBRARY OF THE ARSENAL. The way thither is very interesting, although not very short. Whether your hackney coachman take you through the _Marché des Innocents_, or straight forward, along the banks of the Seine--passing two or three bridges--you will be almost equally amused. But reflections of a graver cast will arise, when you call to mind that it was in his way to THIS VERY LIBRARY--to have a little bibliographical, or rather perhaps political, chat with his beloved Sully--that Henry IV. fell by the hand of an Assassin.[87] They shew you, at the further end of the apartments--distinguished by its ornaments of gilt, and elaborate carvings--the _very boudoir_ ... where that monarch and his prime minister frequently retired to settle the affairs of the nation. Certainly, no man of education or of taste can enter such an apartment without a diversion of some kind being given to the current of his feelings. I will frankly own that I lost, for one little minute, the recollection of the hundreds and thousands of volumes-- including even those which adorn the chamber wherein the head librarian sits--which I had surveyed in my route thither. However, my present object must be exclusively confined to an account of a very few choice articles of these hundreds and thousands of volumes. BIBLIA LATINA. _Printed by Fust and Schoiffher_, 1462. 2 vols. There are not fewer than _three_ copies of this edition, which I shall almost begin to think must be ranked among books of ordinary occurrence. Of these three, two are UPON VELLUM, and the third is upon paper. The latter, or paper copy, is cruelly cropt, and bad in every respect. Of the two upon vellum, one is in vellum binding, and a fair sound copy; except that it has a few initials cut out. The other vellum copy, which is bound in red morocco-- measuring full fifteen inches and a half, by eleven inches and a quarter-- affords the comfortable evidence of ancient ms. signatures at bottom. There are doubtless some exceptionable leaves; but, upon the whole, it is a very sound and desirable copy. It was obtained of the elder M. Brunet, father of the well-known author of the Manuel du Libraire. M. Brunet senior found it in the garret of a monastery, of which he had purchased the entire library; and he sold it to the father of the present Comte d'Artois for six hundred livres ... only! ROMAUNT DE JASON, _Supposed to be printed by Caxton_. Folio. _Without date_. This is a finer copy than the one in the Royal Library; but it is imperfect, wanting two leaves. Here is a copy of the very rare edition of the MORLINI _Novella Comoediæ et Fabulæ_, printed in 1520 in 4to.:--also of the _Teatro Jesuitico--impresso en Coimbra_, 1634, 4to.:--and of the _Missa Latina_, printed by Mylius in 1557, 8vo. which latter is a satire upon the mass, and considered exceedingly rare. I regretted to observe so very bad a copy of the original _Giunta_ Edition of the BOCCACCIO of 1527, 4to. MISSALE PARISIENSE. 1522. Folio. A copy UPON VELLUM. I do not think it possible for any library, in any part of the world, to produce a more lovely volume than that upon which, at this moment, I must be supposed to be gazing! In the illuminated initial letters, wood-cuts, tone and quality of the vellum, and extreme skilfulness of the printer--it surely cannot be surpassed. Nor is the taste of the binding inferior to its interior condition. It is habited in the richly-starred morocco livery of Claude d'Urfé: in other words, it came from that distinguished man's library. Originally it appears to have been in the "_Bibliothèque de l'Eglise à Paris_." _Mozarabic Missal and Breviary_. 1500, 1502. Folio. Original Editions. These copies are rather cropt, but sound and perfect. THE DELPHIN STATIUS. Two copies: of which that in calf is the whitest, and less beaten: the other is in dark morocco. The Abbé Grosier told me that De Bure had offered him forty louis for one of them: to which I replied, and now repeat the question, "where is the use of keeping _two_?" Rely upon it, that, within a dozen years from hence, it will turn out that these Delphin Statiuses have never been even _singed_ by a fire![88] I begin to suspect that this story may be classed in the number of BIBLIOGRAPHICAL DELUSIONS-- upon which subject our friend * * could publish a most interesting crown octavo volume: meet garniture for a Bibliomaniac's breakfast table. Here is the ALDINE BIBLE of 1518, in Greek, upon _thick paper_, bound in red morocco. Also a very fine copy of the _Icelandic Bible_ of 1644, folio, bound in the same manner. Among the religious formularies, I observed a copy of the _Liturgia Svecanæ Ecclesiæ catliolicæ et orthodoxæ conformis_, in 1576, folio--which contains only LXXVI leaves, besides the dedication and preface. It has a wood-cut frontispiece, and the text is printed in a very large gothic letter. The commentary is in a smaller type. This may be classed among the rarer books of its kind. But I must not forget a MS. of _The Hours of St. Louis_--considered as _contemporaneous_. It is a most beautiful small folio, or rather imperial octavo; and is in every respect brilliant and precious. The gold, raised greatly beyond what is usually seen in MSS. of this period, is as entire as it is splendid. The miniature paintings are all in a charming state of preservation, and few things of this kind can be considered more interesting. This library has been long celebrated for its collection of _French Topography_ and of early _French_ and _Spanish Romances_; a great portion of the latter having been obtained at the sale of the Nyon Library. I shall be forgiven, I trust, if I neglect the former for the latter. Prepare therefore for a list of some choice articles of this description--in every respect worthy of conspicuous places in all future _Roxburghe_ and _Stanley_ collections. The books now about to be described are, I think, almost all in that apartment which leads immediately into Sully's boudoir. They are described just as I took them from the shelves. RICHARD-SANS PEUR, &c. "_A Paris Par Nicolas et Pierre Bonfons_," &c. _Without Date_. 4to. It is executed in a small roman type, in double columns. There is an imposing wood-cut of Richard upon horseback, in the frontispiece, and a very clumsy one of the same character on the reverse. The signatures run to E in fours. An excellent copy. LE MEME ROMANT. "_Imprime nouuelement a Paris_." At the end, printed by "_Alain Lotrain et Denis Janot_." 4to. _Without Date_. The title, just given is printed in a large gothic letter, in red and black lines, alternately, over a rude-wood cut of Richard upon horseback. The signatures A, B, C, run in fours: D in eight, and E four. The text is executed in a small coarse gothic letter, in long lines. The present is a sound good copy. ROBERT LE DYABLE. "La terrible Et merueilleuse vie de Robert Le Dyable iiii C." 4to. _Without Date_. The preceding is over a large wood-cut of Robert, with a club in his hand, forming the frontispiece. The signatures run to D, in fours; with the exception of A, which has eight leaves. The work is printed in double columns, in a small gothic type. A sound desirable copy. SYPPERTS DE VINEUAULX. "Lhystoire plaisante et recreative faisant metion des prouesses et vaillaces du noble Sypperts de Vineuaulx Et de ses dix septs filz Nouuellement imprime." At the end: printed for "_Claude veufue de feu Iehan sainct denys_," 4to. _Without Date_. On the reverse of this leaf there is a huge figure of a man straddling, holding a spear and shield, and looking over his left shoulder. I think I have seen this figure before. This impression is executed in long lines, in a small gothic letter. A sound copy of a very rare book.[89] GUY DE VVARWICH. "Lhystoire de Guy de vvarwich Cheualier dagleterre &c. 4to. _No Date_. The preceding is over a wood-cut of the famous Guy and his fair Felixe. At bottom, we learn that it is executed in a small gothic type, in double columns. The colophon is on the reverse of V. six. MESSER NOBILE SOCIO. "Le Miserie de li Amanti di Messer Mobile Socio." Colophon: "_Stampata in Vinegia per Maestro Bernardino de Vitali Veneciano_ MDXXXIII." 4to. This impression is executed in long lines, in a fair, good, italic letter. The signatures, from _a_ to _y_ inclusively, run in fours. The colophon, just given, is on the reverse of _z_ i. Of this romance I freely avow my total ignorance. CASTILLE ET ARTUS D'ALGARBE. 4to. This title is over what may be called rather a spirited wood-cut. The date below is 1587. It is printed in double columns, in a small roman type. In the whole, forty-eight leaves. A desirable copy. LA NEF DES DAMES. 4to, _Without Date_. This title is composed of one line, in large lower-case gothic, in black, (just as we see in some of the title pages of Gerard de Leeu) with the rest in four lines, in a smaller gothic letter, printed in red. In this title page is also seen a wood-cut of a ship, with the virgin and child beneath. This book exhibits a fine specimen of rich gothic type, especially in the larger fount--with which the poetry is printed. There is rather an abundant sprinkling of wood cuts, with marginal annotations. The greater part of the work is in prose, in a grave moral strain. The colophon is a recapitulation of the title, ending thus: "_Imprime a Lyon sur le rosne par Iaques arnollet_." This is a sound but somewhat soiled copy. In torn parchment binding. NOVELAS FOR MARIA DE ZAYAS, &c. _En Zaragoça, en el Hospital Real_, &c. _Ano 1637_." 4to. These novels are ten in number; some of them containing Spanish poetry. An apparently much enlarged edition appeared in 1729. 4to. "_Corregidas y enmendadas en esta ultima impression_." NOVELAS AMOROSAS. _Madrid_, 1624. 4to. Twelve novels, in prose: 192 leaves. Subjoined in this copy, are the "Heroydas Belicas, y Amoras, &c." _En Barcelona_, &c. 1622. 4to. The whole of these latter are in three-line stanzas: 109 leaves. SVCESSOS Y PRODIGOS DE AMOR. _En Madrid_. 1626. 4to. 166 leaves. At the end: "Orfeo, en lengva Castellana. A la decima Mvsa." By the same author: in four cantos: thirty-one leaves. EL CAVALLERO CID. "El Cid rvy Diez de Viuar." The preceding title is over a wood-cut of a man on horseback, trampling upon four human bodies. At bottom: _Impresso con licencia en Salamanca, Ano de 1627_." 4to.: 103 pages. At the end are, the "_Seys Romances del Cid Ruy Diaz de Biuar_." The preceding is on A (i). Only four leaves in the whole; quite perfect, and, as I should apprehend, of considerable rarity. This slender tract appears to have been printed at _Valladolid por la viuda de Francisco de Cordoua, Ano de 1627_." 4to. FIORIO E BIANCIFIORE. "_Impressa, &c. ne bologna, Delanno del nostro signore m.cccclxxx. adi. xxiii. di decembre. Laus deo."_ Folio. Doubtless this must be the _Prima Edizione_ of this long popular romance; and perhaps the present may be a unique copy of it. Caxton, as you may remember, published an English prosaïc version of it in the year 1485; and no copy of _that_ version is known, save the one in the cabinet at St. James's Place. This edition has only eight leaves, and this copy happens unluckily to be in a dreadfully shattered and tender state. At the end: _Finito e il libra del fidelissimo Amore Che portorno insieme Fiorio e Biancifiore_ Subjoined to the copy just described is another work, thus entitled: SECRETO SOLO e in arma ben amaistrato Sia qualunqua nole essere inamorato. Got gebe ir eynen guten seligen mogen. The preceding, line for line, is printed in a large gothic type: the rest of the work in a small close gothic letter. Both pieces, together, contain sixty-three leaves. COMMEDIA DE CELESTINA. "_Vendese la presente obra en la ciudad de Anuers_," &c. 18mo. _Without Date_. I suspect however that this scarce little volume was _printed_ as well as "_sold_" at Paris. MILLES ET AMYS. "_A Rouen chez la Veufue de Louys Costé_." 4to. Without Date. The frontispiece has a wood-cut of no very extraordinary beauty, and the whole book exhibits a sort of ballad-style of printing. It is executed in a roman letter, in double columns. OGIER LE DANOIS. "_On les vend a Lyon_, &c." Folio. At the end is the date of 1525, over the printer's device of a lion couchant, and a heart and crown upon a shield. It is a small folio, printed in a neat and rather brilliant gothic type, with several wood-cuts. GALIEN ET JAQUELINE. "_Les nobles prouesses et vaillances de Galien restaure_," &c. 1525, Folio. The preceding is over a large wood-cut of a man on horseback; and this romance is printed by the same printer, in the same place, and, as you observe, in the same year--as is that just before described. HUON DE BOURDEAUX. Here are four editions of this Romance:--to which I suspect fourscore more might be added. The first is printed at _Paris_ for _Bonfons_, in double columns, black letter, with rude wood-cuts. A fine copy: from the Colbert Collection. The second edition is of the date of 1586: in long lines, roman letter, approaching the ballad-style of printing. The third edition is "_A Troyes, Chez Nicolas Oudot_, &c. 1634." 4to. in double columns, small roman letter. No cuts, but on the recto and reverse of the frontispiece. The fourth edition is also "_A Troyes Chez Pierre Garnier_, 1726," 4to. in double columns, roman letter. A very ballad-like production. LES QUATRE FILZ AYMON, Two. editions. One. "_à Lyon par Benoist Rigaud_, 1583," 4to. The printing is of the ballad-kind, although there are some spirited wood-cuts, which have been wretchedly pulled. The generality are as bad as the type and paper. MABRIAN. &c. "_A Troyes, Chez Oudot_, 1625," 4to. A vastly clever wood-cut frontispiece, but wretched paper and printing. From the _Cat. de Nyon_; no. 8135. MORGANT LE GEANT. "_A Troyes, Chez Nicholas Oudot_, 1650, 4to." A pretty wood-cut frontispiece, and an extraordinary large cut of St. George and the Dragon on the reverse. There was a previous Edition by the same Printer at Rouen, in 1618, which contains the second book--wanting in this copy. GERARD COMTE DE NEVERS, &C. 1526, 4to. The title is over the arms of France, and the text is executed in a handsome gothic letter, in long lines. At the end, it appears to have been printed for _Philip le Noir_. It is a very small quarto, and the volume is of excessive rarity. The present is a fine copy, in red morocco binding. CRONIQUE DE FLORIMONT, &C. At "_Lyons--par Olivier Arnoullet_," 4to. At the end is the date of 1529. This impression is executed in a handsome gothic type, in long lines. TROYS FILZ DE ROYS. Printed for "_Nicolas Chrestien--en la Rue neufue nostre Dame_," &c. Without date, 4to. The frontispiece displays a large rude wood cut; and the edition is printed in the black letter, in double columns. All the cuts are coarse. The book, however, is of uncommon occurrence. PARIS ET VIENNE:--"_à Paris, Chez Simon Caluarin rue St. Jacques_." Without date: in double columns; black letter, coarsely printed. A pretty wood-cut at the beginning is repeated at the end. This copy is from the Colbert Library. PIERRE DE PROVENCE ET LA BELLE MAGUELONNE. 1490. 4to. The title is over a large wood-cut of a man and woman, repeated on the reverse of the leaf. The impression is in black letter, printed in long lines, with rather coarse wood-cuts. I apprehend this small quarto volume to be of extreme rarity. JEHAN DE SAINTRE--"_Paris, pour Jehan Bonfons_," &c. 4to. _Without date_. A neatly printed book, in double columns, in the gothic character. There is no cut but in the frontispiece. A ms. note says, "This is the first and rarest edition, and was once worth twelve louis." The impression is probably full three centuries old. BERINUS ET AYGRES DE LAYMANT. At bottom: sold at "_Paris par Jehan de Bonfons_, 4to. _No date._ It is in double columns, black letter, with the device of the printer on the reverse of the last leaf. A rare book. JEAN DE PARIS. "Le Romat de Iehan de Paris, &c. _à Paris, par Jehan Bonfons_, 4to. _Without date_. In black letter, long lines: with rather pretty wood-cuts. A ms. note at the end says: "Ce roman que jay lu tout entier est fort singulier et amusant--cest de luy douvient le proverbe "_train de Jean de Paris_." Cest ici la plus ancienne edition. Elle est rare." The present is a sound copy. There are some pleasing wood-cuts at the end. CRONIQUE DE CLERIADUS, &C. "_On les vend à Lyon au pres de nostre dame de confort cheulx Oliuier Arnoullet_. At the end; 1529. 4to. This edition, which is very scarce, is executed in a handsome gothic type, in long lines. The present is a cropt but sound copy. GUILLAUME DE PALERNE, &C. At bottom--beneath a singular wood-cut of some wild animal (wolf or fox) running away with a child, and a group of affrighted people retreating--we read: "_On les vent a Lyon aupres Dame de Confort chez Oliuier Arnoulle_." At the end is the date of 1552. ---- Another edition of the same romance, _printed at Rouen, without date, by the widow of Louis Costé_, 4to. A mere ballad-style of publication: perhaps not later than 1634.--the date of our wretched and yet most popular impression of the Knights of the Round Table. DAIGREMONT ET VIVIAN. _Printed by Arnoullet, at Lyons_, in 1538, 4to. It is executed in a handsome gothic letter, in long lines. This copy is bound up with the _first_ edition of the Cronique de Florimont--for which turn to a preceding page[90]. In the same volume is a third romance, entitled LA BELLE HELAYNE, 1528, 4to.:--_Printed by the same printer_, with a singular wood-cut frontispiece; in a gothic character not quite so handsome as in the two preceding pieces. JOURDAIN DE BLAVE. _A Paris, par Nicolas Chrestien_," 4to. _Without date_. Printed in double columns, in a small coarse gothic letter. DOOLIN DE MAYENCE. _A Paris--N. Bonfons_. _Without date_, 4to. Probably towards the end of the sixteenth century; in double columns, in the roman letter. Here is another edition, _printed at Rouen_, by _Pierre Mullot_; in roman letter; in double columns. A coarse, wretched performance. MEURVIN FILS D'OGER, &C. _A Paris;--Nicolas Bonfons_." 4to. _Without date_. In the roman letter, in double columns. A fine copy. MELUSINE. Evidently by _Philip le Noir_, from his device at the end. It is executed in a coarse small gothic letter; with a strange, barbarous frontispiece. Another edition, having a copy of the same frontispiece,-- "_Nouuellement Imprimee a Troyes par Nicolas Oudot. 1649."_ 4to. Numerous wood-cuts. In long lines, in the roman letter. TREBISOND. At the end: for "_Iehan Trepperel demourat en la rue neufue nostre dame A lenseigne de lescu de frac_. Without date, 4to. The device of the printer is at the back of the colophon. This impression is executed in the black letter, in double columns, with divers wood-cuts. HECTOR DE TROYE. The title is over a bold wood-cut frontispiece, and _Arnoullet_ has the honour of being printer of the volume. It is executed in the black letter, in long lines. After the colophon, at the end, is a leaf containing a wood-cut of a man and woman, which I remember to have seen more than once before. And now, methinks, you have had a pretty liberal assortment of ROMANCES placed before you, and may feel disposed to breathe the open air, and quit for a while this retired but interesting collection of ancient tomes. Here, then, let us make a general obeisance and withdraw; especially as the official announce of "deux heures viennent de sonner" dissipates the charm of chivalrous fiction, and warns us to shut up our volumes and begone. [81] [The only copy of it in England, UPON VELLUM, is that in the Royal Library in the British Museum.] [82] [It seems that it is a production of the GIUNTI Press. Cat. _des Livr. &c. sur Vélin_, vol. ii. p. 59.] [83] [I learn from M. Crapelet that this book is a _Lyons Counterfeit_ of the Aldine Press; and that the _genuine_ Aldine volume, upon vellum, was obtained, after my visit to Paris, from the Macarthy Collection.] [84] [I had blundered sadly, it seems, in the description of this book in the previous edition of this work: calling it a _Theocritus_, and saying there was a second copy on _large paper_. M. Crapelet is copious and emphatic in his detection of this error.] [85] [I thank M. Crapelet for the following piece of information--from whatever source he may have obtained it: "The library of Henri II. and Diane de Poictiers was sold by public auction in 1724, after the death of Madame La Princesse Marie de Bourbon, wife of Louis-Joseph, Duc de Vendome, who became Proprietor of the Chateau d'Anet. The Library, was composed of a great number of MSS. and Printed Books, exceedingly precious. The sale catalogue of the Library, which is a small duodecimo of 50 pages, including the addenda, is become very scarce." CRAPELET; vol. iii. 347. My friend M. GAIL published a very interesting brochure, about ten years ago, entitled _Lettres Inedites de Henri II. Diane de Poitiers, Marie Stuart, François, Roi Dauphin &c_. Amongst these letters, there was only ONE specimen which the author could obtain of the _united_ scription, or rather signatures, of Henry and Diana. Of these signatures he has given a fac-simile; for which the Reader, in common with myself, is here indebted to him. Below this _united_ signature, is one of Diana HERSELF--from a letter entirely written in her own hand. It must be confessed that she was no Calligraphist. [Autographs: Henri II, Diane de Poitiers] [86] [My friend Mr. Drury possessed a similar copy.] [87] It may not be generally known that one of the most minute and interesting accounts of this assassination is given in _Howell's Familiar Letters_. The author had it from a friend who was an eye-witness of the transaction. [88] As for the "_singeing_."--or the reputed story of the greater part of them having been _burnt_--my opinion still continues to be as implied above: I will only now say that FORTUNATE is that _Vendor_ who can obtain _25l._ for a copy--be that copy brown or fair. [89] [My friend, the late Robert Lang, Esq. whose extraordinary Collection of Romances was sold at the close of the preceding year, often told me, that THE ABOVE was the _only_ Romance which he wanted to complete his Collection.] [90] Page 164, ante. _LETTER VII._ LIBRARY OF STE. GENEVIÈVE. THE ABBÉ MERCIER ST. LÉGER. LIBRARY OF THE MAZARINE COLLEGE, OR INSTITUTE. PRIVATE LIBRARY OF THE KING. MONS. BARBIER, LIBRARIAN. It is just possible that you may not have forgotten, in a previous letter, the mention of STE. GENEVIÈVE--situated in the old quarter of Paris, on the other side of the Seine; and that, in opposition to the _ancient_ place or church, so called, there was the _new_ Ste. Geneviève--or the Pantheon. My present business is with the _old_ establishment: or rather with the LIBRARY, hard by the old church of Ste. Geneviève. Of all interiors of libraries, this is probably the most beautiful and striking; and it is an absolute reproach to the taste of antiquarian art at Paris, that so beautiful an interior has not been adequately represented by the burin. There is surely spirit and taste enough in this magnificent capital to prevent such a reproach from being of a much longer continuance. But my business is with the _original_, and not with any _copy_ of it--however successful. M. Flocon is the principal librarian, but he is just now from home[91]. M. Le Chevalier is the next in succession, and is rarely from his official station. He is a portly gentleman; unaffected, good-natured, and kind-hearted. He has lived much in England, and speaks our language fluently: and catching my arm, and leaning upon it, he exclaimed, with a sort of heart's chuckle--in English, "with all my soul I attend you to the library." On entering that singularly striking interior, he whispered gently in my ear "you shall be consigned to a clever attendant, who will bring you what you want, and I must then leave you to your occupations." "You cannot confer upon me a greater favour," I replied. "Bon, (rejoined he) je vois bien que vous aimez les livres. A ça, marchons." I was consigned to a gentleman who sat at the beginning of the left rectangular compartment--for the library is in the form of a cross--and making my bow to my worthy conductor, requested he would retire to his own more important concerns. He shook me by the hand, and added, in English--"Good day, God bless you, Sir." I was not wanting in returning a similar salutation. The LIBRARY OF STE. GENEVIÈVE exhibits a local of a very imposing, as well as extensive, appearance. From its extreme length,--which cannot be less than two hundred and thirty feet, as I should conjecture--it looks rather low. Yet the ceiling being arched, and tolerably well ornamented, the whole has a very harmonious appearance. In the centre is a cupola: of which the elder Restout, about ninety years ago, painted the ceiling. They talk much of this painting, but I was not disposed to look at it a second time. The charm of the whole arises, first, from the mellow tone of light which is admitted from the glazed top of this cupola; and, secondly, from the numerous busts, arranged along the sides, which recal to your remembrance some of the most illustrious characters of France--for arts, for arms, for learning, and for public spirit. These busts are at the hither end, as you enter. Busts of foreigners continue the suite towards the other extremities. A good deal of white carved ornament presents itself, but not unpleasantly: the principal ground colour being of a sombre tint, harmonising with that of the books. The floor is of glazed tile. It was one of the hottest of days when I first put my foot within this interior; and my very heart seemed to be refreshed by the coolness--the tranquillity--the congeniality of character--of every thing around me! In such a place, "hours" (as Cowper somewhere expresses it) may be "thought down to moments." A sort of soft, gently-stealing, echo accompanies every tread of the foot. You long to take your place among the studious, who come every day to read in the right compartment of the cross; and which compartment they as regularly _fill_. Meanwhile, scarcely a whisper escapes them. The whole is, indeed, singularly inviting to contemplation, research, and instruction. But it was to the left of the cupola--and therefore opposite the studious corps just mentioned--that M. Le Chevalier consigned me to my bibliographical attendant. I am ignorant of his name, but cannot be forgetful of his kind offices. The MS. Catalogue (they have no printed one) was placed before me, and I was requested to cater for myself. Among the _Libri Desiderati_ of the fifteenth century, I smiled to observe the _Naples Horace of_ 1474 ... but you wish to be informed of the _acquired_, and not of the _desiderated_, treasures. Prepare, therefore, for a treat-- of its kind. LACTANTIUS. _Printed in the Soubiaco Monastery_. 1465. Folio. This was Pope Pius the Sixth's copy. Indeed the greater number of the more valuable early books belonged to that amiable Pontiff; upon whom Audiffredi (as you may well remember) has passed so warm and so well merited an eulogium[92]. The papal copy, however, has its margins scribbled upon, and is defective in the leaf which contains the errata. AUGUSTINUS DE CIVITATE DEI. _Printed in the same Monastery_. 1467. Folio. The margins are broad, but occasionally much stained. The copy is also short. From the same papal collection. CICERO DE ORATORE. _Printed in the same Monastery_. _Without Date_. Folio. A sound copy, but occasionally scribbled upon. The side margins are rather closely cropt. BIBLIA LATINA. 1462. Folio. 2 vols. I saw only the first volume, which displays a well-proportioned length and breadth of margin. The illuminations appear to be nearly coeval, and are of a soft and pleasing style of execution. Yet the margins are rather deformed by the designation of the chapters, in large roman numerals, of a sprawling character. BIBLIA ITALICA. _Kalend. de Octobrio_. 1471. Folio. 2 vols. A perfectly magnificent copy (measuring sixteen inches three eighths, by ten and six eighths) of this very rare edition; of which a minute and particular account will be found in the Catalogue of Earl Spencer's Library.[93] After a careful inspection--rather than from actual comparison--I incline to think that these noble volumes came from the press of _Valdarfer_. The copy under description is bound in brown calf, with red speckled edges to the leaves. This is a copy of an impression of which the library may justly be proud. BIBLIA POLONICA. 1599. Folio. In style of printing and embellishment like our Coverdale's Bible of 1535. Whether it be a reprint (which is most probable) of the famous Polish Bible of 1563, I am unable to ascertain. VIRGILIUS. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz_. (1469.) Folio. FIRST EDITION; of the greatest rarity. Probably this is the finest copy (once belonging to Pius VI.) which is known to exist; but it must be considered as imperfect--wanting the Priapeia. And yet it may be doubted whether the latter were absolutely printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz for their _first_ edition? This copy, bound in white calf, with the papal arms on the sides, measures twelves inches and a quarter in length, by eight inches and five eighths in width: but the state of the illumination, at the beginning of the Bucolics, shews the volume to have been cropt--however slightly. All the illuminations are quiet and pretty. Upon the whole, this is a very precious book; and superior in most respects to the copy in the Royal Library.[94] PLINIUS SENIOR. 1469. Folio. EDITIO PRINCEPS. A copy from the same papal library; very fine, both as to length and width.--You rarely meet with a finer copy. _The Jenson edition_ of 1472 is here comparatively much inferior. CICERO. RHETORICA VETUS. _Printed by Jenson_. 1470. Folio. A great curiosity: inasmuch as it is a copy UPON VELLUM. It has been cruelly cut down, but the vellum is beautiful. It is also choked in the back, in binding. From the collection of the same Pope. SUETONIUS. _Printed by I.P. de Lignamine_. 1470. Folio. A magnificent copy; measuring thirteen inches and one eighth in height. The first leaf is, however, objectionable. From the same collection. QUINTILIANUS. INSTITUTIONES. _By the same Printer_. 1470. Folio. This and the preceding book are FIRST EDITIONS. A copy of equal beauty and equal size with the Suetonius. From the same Collection. PRISCIANUS. _Printed by V. de Spira_. 1470. Folio. First Edition. We have here a truly delicious copy--UPON VELLUM--and much superior to a similar copy in the Royal Library[95] I ought slightly to notice that a few of the leaves, following the date, are tawny, and others mended. Upon the whole, however, this is a book which rejoices the eye and warms the heart of a classical bibliographer. It is bound in pale calf, with gilt stamped edges, and once belonged to the Pontiff from whose library almost every previously-described volume was obtained. DANTE. _Printed by Petrus [Adam de Michaelibus.] Mantua_. 1472. Folio. A large and fair copy of an exceedingly rare edition. It appears to be quite perfect. BOETIUS. _Printed by Frater Iohannes_ 1474. 4to. It is for the first time that I open the leaves of this scarce edition. It is printed in a sharp and rather handsome roman type, and this copy has sixty-three numbered leaves. ANTHOLOGIA GRÆCA. 1498. 4to. We have here a most desirable copy--UPON VELLUM, which is equally soft and white. It has been however peppered a little by a worm, at the beginning and end; especially at the end. It is coated in a goodly sort ofGaignat binding. CICERONIS OPERA OMNIA. _Milan_. 1498. Folio. 4 vols. This is the finest copy of this rare set of volumes which it has been my lot yet to examine; but the dedication of the printer, Minutianus, to I.I. Trivulcius, on the reverse of the first leaf of the first volume, is unluckily wanting. There are, who would call this a _large paper_ copy. MARSILIUS FICINUS: IN DIONYSIUM AREOPAGITAM. _Printed by Laurentius, the Son of Franciscus a Venetian; at Florence. Without Date_. Folio. This is certainly a very beautiful and genuine book, in this particular condition-- UPON VELLUM--but the small gothic type, in which it is printed, is a good deal blurred. The binding is in its first state: in a deep red-coloured leather, over boards. I should apprehend this impression to be chiefly valuable on the score of rarity and high price, when it is found upon vellum. The foregoing are what I selected from the _Fifteeners_; after running an attentive eye over the shelves upon which the books, of that description are placed. In the same case or division where these Fifteeners are lodged, there happen to be a few _Alduses_, UPON VELLUM--so beautiful, rare, and in such uncommon condition, that I question whether M. Van Praet doth not occasionally cast an envious eye upon these membranaceous treasures-- secretly, and perhaps commendably, wishing that some of them may one day find their way into the Royal Collection!... You shall judge for yourself. HOMERI OPERA. Gr. _Printed by Aldus. Without date_. 12mo. 2 vols. First Aldine impression; and this copy perhaps yields only to the one in the Royal Library.[96] These volumes are differently bound; but of the two, that containing the _Iliad_, gains in length what it loses in breadth. The vellum is equally soft, white, and well-conditioned; and perhaps, altogether, the copy is only one little degree inferior to that in the Royal Library. The Odyssey is bound in old red morocco, with stampt gilt edges. This copy was purchased from the Salviati Library. CICERONIS ORATIONES. _Printed at the Aldine Press_. 1519. 8vo. 3 vols. Surely this copy is the _ne plus ultra_ of a VELLUM ALDUS! In size, condition, and colour, nothing can surpass it. When I say this, I am not unmindful of the Royal copies here, and more particularly of the _Pindar and Ovid_ in St. James's Place. But, in truth, there reigns throughout the rectos and reverses of each of these volumes, such a mellow, quiet, and genuine tone of colour, that the most knowing bibliographer and the most fastidious Collector cannot fail to express his astonishment on turning over the leaves. They are bound in old red morocco, with the arms of a Cardinal on the exterior; and (with the exception of the first volume, which is some _very_ little shorter) full six inches and a half, by four inches. Shew me its like if you can! I shall mention only three more volumes; but neither of them Aldine; and then take leave of the library of Ste. Geneviève. MISSALE MOZARABICUM. 1500. Folio. A fine copy for size and colour; but unluckily much wormed at the beginning, though a little less so at the end. It measures nearly thirteen inches one quarter, by nine three eighths. From the stamped arms of three stars and three lizards, this copy appears to have belonged to the _Cardinal Juigné_, Archbishop of Paris; who had a fine taste for early printed books. VITRUVIUS, _Printed by the Giunti_, 1513. 8vo. A delicious copy; upon white, soft, spotless VELLUM. I question if it be not superior to Mr. Dent's;[97] as it measures six inches and three-quarters, by four. A cruel worm, however, has perforated as far as folio 76; leaving one continued hole behind him. The binding of this exquisite book is as gaudy as it is vulgar. TEWERDANCKHS. _Printed in 1517_. Folio. First Edition. This is doubtless a fine copy--upon thick, but soft and white, VELLUM. Fortunately the plates are uncoloured, and the copy is quite complete in the table. It measures fifteen inches in length, by nine inches three quarters in width. Such appeared to me, on a tolerably careful examination of the titles of the volumes, to be among the chief treasures in the early and more curious department of books belonging to the STE. GENEVIÈVE LIBRARY. Without doubt, many more may be added; but I greatly suspect that the learned in bibliography would have made pretty nearly a similar selection; Frequently, during the progress of my examinations, I looked out of window upon the square, or area, below--which was covered at times by numerous little parties of youths (from the College of Henry IV.) who were partaking of all manner of amusements, characteristic of their ages and habits. With, and without, coats--walking, sitting, or running,--there they were! All gay, all occupied, all happy:--unconscious of the alternate miseries and luxuries of the _Bibliomania_!--unknowing in the nice distinctions of type from the presses of _George Laver_, _Schurener de Bopardia_, and _Adam Rot_: uninitiated in the agonising mysteries of rough edges, large margins, and original bindings! But ... Where ignorance is bliss 'Tis folly to be wise. This is soberly quoted--not meaning thereby to scratch the cuticle, or ruffle the temper, of a single Roxburgher. And now, my friend, as we are about to quit this magnificent assemblage of books, I owe it to myself--but much more to your own inextinguishable love of bibliographical history--to say "one little word, or two"--ere we quit the threshold--respecting the Abbé MERCIER SAINT LÉGER ... the head librarian, and great living ornament of the collection, some fifty years ago. I am enabled to do this with the greater propriety, as my friend M. Barbier is in possession of a number of literary anecdotes and notices respecting the Abbé--and has supplied me with a brochure, by Chardon De La Rochette, which contains a notice of the life and writings of the character in question. I am sure you will be interested by the account, limited and partial as it must necessarily be: especially as I have known those, to whose judgments I always defer with pleasure and profit, assert, that, of all BIBLIOGRAPHERS, the Abbé Mercier St. Léger was the FIRST, in eminence, which France possessed, I have said so myself a hundred times, and I repeat the asseveration. Yet we must not forget Niceron. Mercier Saint Léger was born on the 1st of April, 1734. At fifteen years of age, he began to consider what line of life he should follow. A love of knowledge, and a violent passion for study and retirement, inclined him to enter the congregation of the _Chanoines Réguliers_--distinguished for men of literature; and, agreeably to form, he went through a course of rhetoric and philosophy, before he passed into divinity, as a resident in the Abbey _de Chatrices_ in the diocese of _Chalons sur Marne_. It was there that he laid the foundation of his future celebrity as a literary bibliographer. He met there the venerable CAULET, who had voluntarily resigned the bishopric of Grenoble, to pass the remainder of his days in the abbey in question--of which he was the titular head--in the midst of books, solitude, and literary society. Mercier Saint Léger quickly caught the old man's eye, and entwined himself round his heart. Approaching blindness induced the ex-bishop to confide the care of his library to St. Léger--who was also instructed by him in the elements of bibliography and literary history. He taught him also that love of order and of method which are so distinguishable in the productions of the pupil. Death, however, in a little time separated the master from the scholar; and the latter scarcely ever mentioned the name, or dwelt upon the virtues, of the former, without emotions which knew of no relief but in a flood of tears. The heart of Mercier St. Léger was yet more admirable than his head. St. Léger, at twenty years of age, returned to Paris. The celebrated Pingré was chief librarian of the Ste. GENEVIEVE COLLECTION; and St. Léger attached himself with ardour and affection to the society and instructions of his Principal. He became joint SECOND LIBRARIAN in 1759; when Pingré, eminent for astronomy, departing for India to observe the transit of Venus over the sun's disk, St. Léger was appointed to succeed him as CHIEF--and kept the place till the year 1772. These twelve years were always considered by St. Léger as the happiest and most profitable of his life. During this period he lent a helping hand in abridging the _Journal de Trevoux_. In September, 1764, Louis XV. laid the foundation-stone, with great pomp and ceremony, of the new church of Ste. Geneviève. After the ceremony, he desired to see the library of the old establishment--in which we have both been so long tarrying. Mercier spread all the more ancient and curious books upon the table, to catch the eye of the monarch: who, with sundry Lords of the bed-chamber, and his _own_ librarian BIGNON, examined them with great attention, and received from Mercier certain information respecting their relative value, and rarity. Every now and then Louis turned round, and said to Bignon, "Bignon, have I got that book in my library?" The royal librarian ... answered not a word--but hiding himself behind CHOISEUL, the prime minister, seemed to avoid the sight of his master. Mercier, however, had the courage and honesty to reply, "No, Sire, that book is _not_ in your library." The king spent about an hour in examining the books, chatting with the librarian, (Mercier) and informing himself on those points in which he was ignorant. It was during this conversation, that the noble spirit of Mercier was manifested. The building of the library of St. Victor was in a very crazy state: it was necessary to repair it, but the public treasury could not support that expense. "I will tell your Majesty, (said Mercier) how this may be managed without costing you a single crown. The headship of the Abbey of St. Victor is vacant: name a new Abbot; upon condition, each year, of his ceding a portion of his revenue to the reparation of the Library." If the king had had one spark of generous feeling, he would have replied by naming Mercier to the abbey in question, and by enjoining the strict fulfilment of his own proposition. But it was not so. Yet the scheme was carried into effect, although others had the glory of it. However, the king had not forgotten Mercier, nor the bibliographical lesson which he had received in the library of Ste. Geneviève. One of these lessons consisted in having the distinctive marks pointed out of the famous _Bible of Sixtus V_. published in 1590. A short time after, on returning from mass, along the great gallery of Versailles, Louis saw the head librarian of Ste. Geneviève among the spectators.. and turning to his prime minister, exclaimed "Choiseul, how can one distinguish the _true_ Bible of Sixtus V.?" "Sire, (replied the unsuspecting minister) I never was acquainted with that book." Then, addressing himself to Mercier, the king repeated to him--without the least hesitation or inaccuracy--the lesson which he had learnt in the library of Ste. Geneviève. There are few stories, I apprehend, which redound so much to this king's credit. Louis gave yet more substantial proofs of his respect for his bibliographical master, by appointing him, at the age of thirty-two, to the headship of the abbey of _St. Léger de Soissons_--and hence our hero derives his name. In 1772 Mercier surrendered the Ste. Geneviève library to Pingré, on his return from abroad--and in the privacy of his own society, set about composing his celebrated _Supplément à l'Histoire de l'Imprimerie par Prosper Marchand_--of which the second edition, in 1775, is not only more copious but more correct. The Abbé Rive, who loved to fasten his teeth in every thing that had credit with the world, endeavoured to shake the reputation of this performance.. but in vain. Mercier now travelled abroad; was received every where with banqueting and caresses; a distinction due to his bibliographical merits--and was particularly made welcome by Meerman and Crevenna. M. Ochéda, Earl Spencer's late librarian--and formerly librarian to Crevenna--has often told me how pleased he used to be with Mercier's society and conversation during his visit to Crevenna. On his return, Mercier continued his work, too long suspended, upon the LATIN POETS OF THE MIDDLE AGE. His object was, to give a brief biography of each; an analysis of their works, with little brilliant extracts and piquant anecdotes; traits of history little known; which, say Chardon De La Rochette and M. Barbier, (who have read a great part of the original MS.) "are as amusing as they are instructive." But the Revolution was now fast approaching, and the meek spirit of Mercier could ill sustain the shock of such a frightful calamity. Besides, he loved his country yet dearer than his books. His property became involved: his income regularly diminished; and even his privacy was invaded. In 1792 a decree passed the convention for issuing a "Commission for the examination of monuments." Mercier was appointed one of the thirty-three members of which the commission was composed, and the famous Barrère was also of the number. Barrère, fertile in projects however visionary and destructive, proposed to Mercier, as a _bright thought_, "to make a short extract from every book in the national library: to have these extracts superbly printed by Didot;--and to ... BURN ALL THE BOOKS FROM WHICH THEY WERE TAKEN!" It never occurred to this revolutionising idiot that there might be a _thousand_ copies of the _same work_, and that some hundreds of these copies might be OUT of the national library! Of course, Mercier laughed at the project, and made the projector ashamed of it.[98] Robespierre, rather fiend than man, now ruled the destinies of France. On the 7th of July, 1794, Mercier happened to be passing along the streets when he saw _sixty-seven human beings_ about to undergo the butchery of the GUILLOTINE. Every avenue was crowded by spectators--who were hurrying towards the horrid spectacle. Mercier was carried along by the torrent; but, having just strength enough to raise his head, he looked up ... and beheld his old and intimate friend the ex-abbé ROGER ... in the number of DEVOTED VICTIMS! That sight cost him his life. A sudden horror ... followed by alternate shiverings, and flushings of heat ... immediately seized him. A cold perspiration hung upon his brow. He was carried into the house of a stranger. His utterance became feeble and indistinct, and it seemed as if the hand of death were already upon him. Yet he rallied awhile. His friends came to soothe him. Hopes were entertained of a rapid and perfect recovery. He even made a few little visits to his friends in the vicinity of Paris. But ... his fine full figure gradually shrunk: the colour as gradually deserted his cheek--and his eye sensibly lacked that lustre which it used to shed upon all around. His limbs became feeble, and his step was both tremulous and slow. He lingered five years ... and died at ten at night, on the 13th of May 1799, just upon the completion of his jubilee of his bibliographical toil. What he left behind, as annotations, both in separate papers, and on the margins of books, is prodigious. M. Barbier shewed me his projected _third_ edition of the _Supplément to Marchand_, and a copy of the _Bibliothèque Françoise of De La Croix du Maine_, &c. covered, from one end to the other, with marginal notes by him.[99] That amiable biographer also gave me one of his little bibliographical notices, as a specimen of his hand writing and of his manner of pursuing his enquiries.[100] Such are the feelings, and such the gratifications; connected with a view of the LIBRARY of STE. GENEVIÈVE. Whenever I visit it, I imagine that the gentle spirit of MERCIER yet presides there; and that, as it is among the most ancient, so is it among the most interesting, of BOOK LOCALS in Paris. Come away with me, now, to a rival collection of books--in the MAZARINE COLLEGE, or Institute. Of the magnificence of the exterior of this building I have made mention in a previous letter. My immediate business is with the interior; and more especially with that portion of it which relates to _paper_ and _print_. You are to know, however, that this establishment contains _two Libraries_; one, peculiar to the Institute, and running at right angles with the room in which the members of that learned body assemble: the other, belonging to the College, to the left, on entering the first square--from the principal front. The latter is the _old_ collection, of the time of Cardinal Mazarin, and with _that_ I begin. It is deposited chiefly on the first floor; in two rooms running at right angles with each other: the two, about 140 feet long. These rooms may be considered very lofty; certainly somewhat more elevated than those in the Royal Library. The gallery is supported by slender columns, of polished oak, with Corinthian capitals. The general appearance is airy and imposing. A huge globe, eight feet in diameter, is in the centre of the angle where the two rooms meet. The students read in either apartment: and, as usual, the greatest order and silence prevail. But not a _Fust and Schoiffher_--nor a _Sweynheym and Pannartz_--nor an _Ulric Han_--in this lower region ... although they say the collection contains about 90,000 volumes. What therefore is to be done? The attendant sees your misery, and approaches: "Que desirez vous, Monsieur?" That question was balm to my agitated spirits. "Are the old and more curious books deposited here?" "Be seated, Sir. You shall know in an instant." Away goes this obliging creature, and pulls a bell by the side of a small door. In a minute, a gentleman, clothed in black--the true bibliographical attire--descends. The attendant points to me: we approach each other: "A la bonne heure--je suis charmé...." You will readily guess the remainder. "Donnez vous la peine de monter." I followed my guide up a small winding stair-case, and reached the topmost landing place. A succession of small rooms--(I think _ten_ in number) lined with the _true_ furniture, strikes my astonished eye, and makes warm my palpitating heart. "This is charming"--exclaimed I, to my guide, Monsieur Thiebaut--"this is as it should be." M. Thieubaut bowed graciously. The floors are all composed of octagonal, deeply-tinted red, tiles: a little too highly glazed, as usual; but cool, of a good picturesque tint, and perfectly harmonising with the backs of the books. The first little room which you gain, contains a plaster-bust of the late Abbé HOOKE,[101] who lived sometime in England with the good Cardinal----. His bust faces another of Palissot. You turn to the right, and obtain the first foreshortened view of the "ten little chambers" of which I just spoke. I continued to accompany my guide: when, reaching the _first_ of the last _three_ rooms, he turned round and bade me remark that these last three rooms were devoted exclusively to "books printed in the _Fifteenth Century_: of which they possessed about fifteen hundred." This intelligence recruited my spirits; and I began to look around with eagerness. But alas! although the crop was plentiful, a deadly blight had prevailed. In other words, there was number without choice: quantity rather than quality. Yet I will not be ill-natured; for, on reaching the third of these rooms, and the last in the suite, Monsieur Thiebaut placed before me the following select articles. BIBLIA LATINA. _Printed by Fust and Schoiffher: Without Date, but supposed to be in the year 1455 or 1456_. Folio. 2 vols. For the last dozen years of my life, I had earnestly desired to see this copy: not because I had heard much of its beauty, but because it is the _identical_ copy which gave rise to the calling of this impression the MAZARINE BIBLE.[102] Certainly, all those copies which I had previously seen--and they cannot be fewer than ten or twelve--were generally superior; nor must this edition be henceforth designated as "of the very first degree of rarity." BIBLIA LATINA. _Printed by the Same_, 1462. Folio. 2 vols. A fair, sound, large copy: UPON VELLUM. The date is printed in red, at the end of each volume--a variety, which is not always observable. This copy is in red morocco binding. BIBLIA ITALICA. _Printed by Vindelin de Spira, Kalend. August. 1471_. Folio. 2 vols. A fine copy of an extremely rare edition; perhaps the rarest of all those of the early Italian versions of the Bible. It is in calf binding, but cropt a little. LEGENDA SANCTORUM. Italicè. "_Impresse per Maestro Nicolo ienson, &c. Without Date_. Folio. The author of the version is _Manerbi_: and the present is the _first impression_ of it. It is executed in double columns, in the usually delicate style of printing by Jenson: and this volume is doubtless among the rarer productions of the printer. SERVIUS IN VIRGILIUM. _Printed by Ulric Han. Without Date_. Folio. This is a volume of the most unquestionable rarity; and _such_ a copy of it as that now before me, is of most uncommon occurrence.[103] Can this be surprising, when I tell you that it once belonged to Henri II. and Diane de Poictiers! The leaves absolutely talk to you, as you turn them over. Yet why do I find it in my heart to tell you that, towards the middle, many leaves are stained at the top of the right margin?! There are also two worm holes towards the end. But what then? The sun has its spots. PLAUTUS. 1472. Folio. Editio Princeps. Although _this_ volume came also from the collection of the _illustrious Pair_ to whom the previous one belonged, yet is it unworthy of such owners. I suspect it has been cropt in its second binding. It is stained all through, at top, and the three introductory leaves are cruelly repellent. CÆSAR. 1469. Folio. Editio Princeps. A very fine, genuine copy; in the original binding--such as all Sweynheym and Pannartz's _ought_ to be. It is tall and broad: but has been unluckily too much written upon. LACTANTIUS. 1470. _By the same Printers_. Perhaps, upon the whole, the finest copy of this impression which exists. Yet a love of truth compels me to observe--only in a very slight sound, approaching to a whisper--that there are indications of the ravages of the worm, both at the beginning and end; but very, very trivial. It is bound like the preceding volume; and measures thirteen inches and nearly three quarters, by about nine inches and one eighth. CICERO DE OFFICIIS. 1466. 4to. Second Edition, upon paper; and therefore rare. But this copy is sadly stained and wormed. CICERO DE NATURA DEORUM, &c. _Printed by Vindelin de Spiraa_. 1471. Folio. A fine sound copy, in the original binding. SILIUS ITALICUS. _Printed by Laver_. 1471. Folio. A good, sound copy; and among the very rarest books from the press of Laver, in such condition. CATULLUS, TIBULLUS, ET PROPERTIUS. 1472. Folio. The knowing, in early classical bibliography, are aware that this _Editio Princeps_ is perhaps to be considered as only _one_ degree below the first impressions of Lucretius and Virgil in rarity. The longest life may pass away without an opportunity of becoming the purchaser of such a treasure. The present is a tall, fair copy; quite perfect. In red morocco binding. DANTE. _Printed by Numeister_. 1472. Folio. Considered to be the earliest impression. This is rather a broad than a tall copy; and not free from stain and the worm. But it is among the very best copies which I have seen. * * * * * It will not be necessary to select more flowers from this choice corner of the tenth and last room of the upper suite of apartments: nor am I sure that, upon further investigation, the toil would be attended with any very productive result. Yet I ought not to omit observing to you that this Library owes its chief celebrity to the care, skill, and enthusiasm of the famous _Gabriel Naudé_, the first librarian under the Cardinal its founder. Of Naudé, you may have before read somewhat in certain publications;[104] where his praises are set forth with no sparing hand. He was perhaps never excelled in activity, bibliographical _diplomacy_, or zeal for his master; and his expressive countenance affords the best index of his ardent mind. He purchased every where, and of all kinds, of bodies corporate and of individuals. But you must not imagine that the _Mazarine Library_, as you now behold it, is precisely of the same dimensions, or contains the same books, as formerly. If many rare and precious volumes have been disposed of, or are missing, or lost, many have been also procured. The late librarian was LUCAS JOSEPH HOOKE, and the present is Mons. PETIT RADEL.[105] We will descend, therefore, from these quiet and congenial regions; and passing through the lower rooms, seek the _other_ collection of books attached to this establishment. The library, which is more immediately appropriated to the INSTITUTE OF FRANCE, may consist of 20,000 volumes,[106] and is contained in a long room--perhaps of one hundred feet--of which the further extremity is supposed to be _adorned_ by a statue of VOLTAIRE. This statue is raised within a recess, and the light is thrown upon it from above from a concealed window. Of all deviations from good taste, this statue exhibits one of the most palpable. Voltaire, who was as thin as a hurdle, and a mere bag of bones, is here represented as an almost _naked_ figure, sitting: a slight mantle over his left arm being the only piece of drapery which the statue exhibits. The poet is slightly inclining his head to the left, holding a pen in his right hand. The countenance has neither the fire, force, nor truth, which Denon's terra-cotta head of the poet seems to display. The extremities are meagre and offensive. In short, the whole, as it appears to me, has an air approaching the burlesque. Opposite to this statue are the colossal busts of LA-GRANGE and MALESHERBES; while those of PEIRESC and FRANKLIN are nearly of the size of nature. They are all in white marble. That of Peiresc has considerable expression. This may be called a collection of _Books of Business_; in other words, of books of almost every day's reference--which every one may consult. It is particularly strong in _Antiquities_ and _History_: and for the latter, it is chiefly indebted to Dom Brial--the living father of French history[107]--that excellent and able man (who is also one of the Secretaries of the Institute) having recommended full two-thirds of the _long sets_ (as they are called) which relate to ancient history. The written catalogue is contained in fourteen folio volumes, interleaved; there being generally only four articles written in a page, and those four always upon the recto of each leaf. This is a good plan: for you may insert your acquisitions, with the greatest convenience, for a full dozen years to come. No _printed_ catalogue of either of these libraries, or of those of the Arsenal and Ste. Geneviève, exists: which I consider to be a _stain_--much more frightful than that which marks the copy of the "_Servius in Virgilium_," just before described! It remains now to make mention of a _third_ Collection of Books--which may be considered in the light both of a public and a private Library. I mean, the Collection appropriated more particularly for the _King's private use_,[108] and which is deposited beneath the long gallery of the Louvre. Its local is as charming as it is peculiar. You walk by the banks of the Seine, in a line with the south side of the Louvre, and gain admittance beneath an archway, which is defended by an iron grating. An attendant, in the royal livery, opens the door of the library--just after you have ascended above the entresol. You enquire "whether Monsieur BARBIER, the chief Librarian, be within?" "Sir, he is never absent. Be pleased to go straight forward, as far as you can see."[109] What a sight is before me! Nothing less than _thirteen_ rooms, with a small arched door in the centre, through which I gaze as if looking through a tube. Each of these rooms is filled with books; and in one or the other of them are assembled the several visitors who come to read. The whole is perfectly magical. Meanwhile the nephew of M. Barbier walks quickly, but softly, from one room to another, to take down the several volumes enquired after. At length, having paced along upwards of 200 feet of glazed red tile, and wondering when this apparently interminable suite of apartments will end, I view my estimable friend, the HEAD LIBRARIAN deeply occupied in some correction of Bayle or of Moreri--sitting at the further extremity. His reception of me is more than kind. It is hearty and enthusiastic. "Now that I am in this magical region, my good friend, allow me to inspect the famous PRAYER BOOK of CHARLEMAGNE?"--was my first solicitation to Mons. Barbier. "Gently,"--said my guide. "You are almost asking to partake of forbidden fruit. But I suppose you must not be disappointed." This was only sharpening the edge of my curiosity--for "wherefore this mystery, good M. Barbier?" "_That_ you may know another time. The book is here: and you shall immediately inspect it."--was his reply. M. Barbier unlocked the recess in which it is religiously preserved; took off the crimson velvet in which it is enveloped; and springing backward only two feet and a half, exclaimed, on presenting it, "Le voilà--dans toute sa beauté pristine." I own that I even forgot _Charles the Bald_--and eke his imperial brother _Lotharius_,[110]--as I gazed upon the contents of it. With these contents it is now high time that you should be made acquainted. EVANGELISTARIUM, or PRAYER BOOK--once belonging to CHARLEMAGNE. Folio. The subject-matter of this most precious book is thus arranged. In the first place, there are five large illuminations, of the entire size of the page, which are much discoloured. The first four represent the _Evangelists_: each sitting upon a cushion, not unlike a bolster. The fifth is the figure of our SAVIOUR. The back ground is purple: the pillow-like seat, upon which Christ sits, is scarlet, relieved by white and gold. The upper garment of the figure is dark green: the lower, purple, bordered in part with gold. The foot-stool is gold: the book, in the left hand, is red and gold: the arabesque ornaments, in the border, are blue, red, and gold. The hair of our Saviour is intended to be flaxen. The text is in double columns, upon a purple ground, within an arabesque border of red, purple, yellow, and bluish green. It is uniformly executed in letters of gold, of which the surface is occasionally rather splendid. It consists of a series of gospel extracts, for the whole year, amounting to about two hundred and forty-two. These extracts terminate with "_Et ego resuscitabo eum in novissimo die. Amen_" Next comes a Christian Calendar, from the dominical year Dcclxxv. to Dccxcvii. On casting the eye down these years, and resting it on that of Dcclxxxi, you observe, in the columns of the opposite leaf, this very important entry, or memorandum--in the undoubted writing of the time: "_In isto Anno ivit Dominus_, REX KAROLUS, _ad scm Petrvm et baptisatus est filius eius_ PIPPINUS _a Domino Apostolico_;" from which I think it is evident (as is observed in the account of this precious volume in the _Annales Encyclopédiques_, vol. iii. p. 378) that this very book was commanded to be written chiefly to perpetuate a notice of the baptism, by Pope Adrian, of the emperor's son PIPPIN.[111] There is no appearance whatever of fabrication, in this memorandum. The whole is coeval, and doubtless of the time when it is professed to have been executed. The last two pages are occupied by Latin verses, written in a lower-case, cursive hand; but contemporaneous, and upon a purple ground. From these verses we learn that the last scribe, or copyist, of the text of this splendid volume, was one GODESCALE, or GODSCHALCUS, a German. The verses are reprinted in the _Décades Philosophiques_. This MS. was given to the _Abbey of St. Servin_, at Toulouse; and it was religiously preserved there, in a case of massive silver, richly embossed, till the year 1793; when the silver was stolen, and the book carried off, with several precious relics of antiquity, by order of the President of the Administration, (Le Sieur S*****) and thrown into a magazine, in which were many other vellum MSS. destined ... TO BE BURNT! One's blood curdles at the narrative. There it lay--- expecting its melancholy fate; till a Monsieur de Puymaurin, then detained as a prisoner in the magazine, happened to throw his eye upon the precious volume; and, writing a certain letter about it, to a certain quarter--(which letter is preserved in the fly leaves, but of which I was denied the transcription, from motives of delicacy--) an order was issued by government for the conveyance of the MS. to the metropolis. This restoration was effected in May 1811.[112] I think you must admit, that, in every point of view, THIS MS. ranks among the most interesting and curious, as well as the most ancient, of those in the several libraries of Paris. But this is the _only_ piece of antiquity, of the book kind, in the Library. Of modern performances, I ought to mention a French version of OSSIAN, in quarto, which was the favourite reading book of the ex-Emperor; and to which Isabey, at his express command, prefixed a frontispiece after the design of Gérard. This frontispiece is beautifully and tenderly executed: a group of heroes, veiled in a mist, forms the back-ground. The only other modern curiosity, in this way, which I deem it necessary to notice, is a collection of ORIGINAL DRAWINGS of flowers, in water colours, by RÉDOUTÉ, upon vellum: in seven folio volumes; and which cost 70,000 francs.[113] Nothing can exceed--and very few efforts of the pencil can equal--this wonderful performance. Such a collection were reasonable at the fore-mentioned price. And now, my good friend, suppose I furnish you with an outline of the worthy head-librarian himself? A.A. BARBIER has perhaps not long "turned the corner" of his fiftieth year. Peradventure he may be fifty three.[114] In stature, he is above the middle height, but not very tall. In form, he is robust; and his countenance expressive of great conciliatoriness and benignity. There is a dash of the "old school" about the attire of M. Barbier, which I am Goth enough to admire: while his ardour of conversation, and rapidity of utterance, relieved by frequent and expressive smiles, make his society, equally agreeable and instructive. He is a literary bibliographer to the very back bone; and talks of what he has done, and of what he purposes to do, with a "gaieté de coeur" which is quite delightful. He is now engaged in an _Examen Critique et Complément des Dictionnaires Historiques les plus repandus_;[115] while his _Dictionnaire des Auteurs Anonymes et Pseudonymes_, in 4 vols. 8vo., and his _Bibliothéque d'un Homme de gout_," in five similar volumes, have already placed him in the foremost rank of French bibliographers. Such is his attention to the duties of his situation, as Librarian, that from one year's end to the other, with the exception of Sundays, he has _no holiday_. His home-occupations, after the hours of public employment (from twelve to four) are over, are not less unintermitting--in the pursuits of literary bibliography. It was at this home, that M. Barbier shewed me, in his library, some of the fruits of his long and vigorously pursued "travail." He possesses Mercier Saint Léger's own copy of his intended _third_ edition of the _Supplement to Marchand's History of Printing_. It is, in short, the second edition, covered with ms. notes in the hand-writing of Mercier himself.[117] He also possesses (but as the property of the Royal Library) the same eminent bibliographer's copy of the _Bibliothèque Française De La Croix du Maine_, in six volumes, covered in like manner with ms. notes by the same hand. To a man of M. Barbier's keen literary appetite, this latter must prove an inexhaustible feast. I was shewn, in this same well-garnished, but unostentatious collection, GOUJET'S own catalogue of his own library. It is in six folio volumes; well written; with a ruled frame work round each page, and an ornamental frontispiece to the first volume. Every book in the catalogue has a note subjoined; and the index is at once full and complete.[118] M. Barbier has rather a high notion, and with justice, of Goujet: observing to me, that _five_ volumes, out of the _ten_ of the last edition of Moreri's Dictionary--which were edited by Goujet--as well as his _Bibliothéque Française_, in eighteen duodecimo volumes--entitled him to the lasting gratitude of posterity. On my remarking that the want of an index, to this _latter_ work, was a great drawback to the use which might be derived from it, M.B. readily coincided with me--and hoped that a projected new edition would remedy this defect. M.B. also told me that Goujet was the editor of the _Dictionnaire de Richelet_, of 1758, in three folio volumes--which had escaped my recollection. My first visit to M. Barbier was concluded by his begging my acceptance of a copy of the _first edition of Phædrus_, in 1596, 12mo.; which contained, bound up with it, a copy of the _second_ edition of 1600; with various readings to the _latter_, from a MS. which was burnt in 1774. This gift was expressly intended for Lord Spencer's library, and in a few months from hence (as I have previously apprized his Lordship) it shall "repose upon the shelves" of his Collection.[119] It is now high time to relieve you; as you must begin to be almost wearied with BIBLIOGRAPHY. You have indeed, from the tenor of these five last letters, been made acquainted with some of the chief treasures in the principal libraries of Paris. You have wandered with me through a world of books; and have been equally, with myself, astonished and delighted with what has been placed before you. Here, then, I drop the subject of bibliography--only to be resumed as connected with an account of book-men. [91] [Because I have said that M. FLOCON was "from home" at the time I visited the library, and that M. Le CHEVALIER was rarely to be found abroad, M. Crapelet lets loose such a tirade of vituperation as is downright marvellous and amusing to peruse. Most assuredly I was not to know M. Flocon's bibliographical achievements and distinction by _inspiration_; and therefore I hasten to make known both the one and the other--in a version of a portion of the note of my sensitive translator: "M. Flocon is always at work; and one of the most zealous Librarians in Paris: he has worked twenty years at a Catalogue of the immense Library of Ste. Geneviève, of which the fruits are, twenty-four volumes--ready for press. Assuredly such a man cannot be said to pass his life away from his post." CRAPELET, vol iv. p. 3, 4. Most true--and who has said that HE DOES? Certainly not the Author of this Work. My translator must have here read without his spectacles.] [92] _Editiones Italicæ_; 1793. _Præf._ [93] Vol. i. p. 63-7. It is there observed that "there does not seem to be any reason for assigning this edition, to a _Roman_ press." [94] See page 116 ante [95] See page 139 ante. [96] See page 145 ante. [97] [Now the property of the Right Hon. T. Grenville; having been purchased at the sale of Mr. Dent's Library for 107_l_.] [98] M. Crapelet doubts the truth of this story. He need not. [99] [See the account of M. Barbier, post.] [100] It is on a small piece of paper, addressed to M. Barbier: "Cherchez dans les depôts bien soigneusement, tous les ouvrages d'ANDRE CIRINE: entr'autres ses _De Venatione libri ii: Messanæ_ 1650. 8vo. _De natura et solertia Canum; Panormi_, 1653. 4to. _De Venatione et Natura Animalium Libri V. ibid_, 1653. 3 vol. in 4to.--tous avec figures gravées en bois. Peut être dans la _Bibl. des Théatres_ y étoient-ils. Je me recommande toujours à M, Barbier pour la _Scala Coeli_, in folio, pour les _Lettres de Rangouge_, et pour les autres livres qu'il a bien voulu se charger de rechercher pour moy." ST. LEGER. [101] The Abbé Hooke preceded the abbé Le Blond; the late head librarian. The present head librarian M. PETIT RADEL, has given a good account of the Mazarine Library in his _Recherches sur les Bibliotheques_, &c. 1819, 8vo.; but he has been reproached with a sort of studied omission of the name of Liblond--who, according to a safe and skilful writer, may be well considered the SECOND FOUNDER of the Mazarine Library. The Abbé Liblond died at St. Cloud in 1796. In M. Renouard's Catalogue of his own books, vol. ii. p. 253, an amusing story is told about Hooke's successor, the Abbé Le Blond, and Renouard himself. [102] _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. i. p. 3, &c. and page 154 ante. [103] When Lord Spencer was at Paris in 1819, he told MM. Petit Radel and Thiebaut, who attended him, that it was "the finest copy he had ever seen." Whereupon, one of these gentlemen wrote with a pencil, in the fly-leaf, "Lord Spencer dit que c'est le plus bel exemplaire qu'il ait vu." And well might his Lordship say so. [104] _Bibliomania_, p. 50. _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. ii. p. 493. [105] Mons. Petit-Radel has lately (1819) published an interesting octavo volume, entitled "_Recherches sur les Bibliothéques anciennes et modernes,&c._ with a "_Notice Historique sur la Bibliothéque Mazarine_: to which latter is prefixed a plate, containing portraits in outline, of Mazarin, Colbert, Naudé and Le Blond." At the end, is a list of the number of volumes in the several public libraries at Paris: from which the following is selected. ROYAL LIBRARY _Printed Volumes_ about 350,000 _Ditto, as brochures_, &c. 350,000 Manuscripts 50,000 LIBRARY OF THE ARSENAL Printed Volumes 150,000 Manuscripts 5,000 LIBRARY OF ST. GENEVIEVE Printed Volumes 110,000 Manuscripts 2,000 MAZARINE LIBRARY Printed Volumes 90,000 Manuscripts 3,500 LIBRARY OF THE PREFECTURE (Hotel de la Ville) Printed Volumes 15,000 ------- INSTITUTE Printed Volumes 50,000 This last calculation I should think very incorrect. M. Petit Radel concludes his statement by making the WHOLE NUMBER OF ACCESSIBLE VOLUMES IN Paris amount to _One Million, one hundred and twenty-five thousand, four hundred and thirty-seven_. In the several DEPARTMENTS OF FRANCE, collectively, there is _more_ than that number. But see the note ensuing. [106] [Mons. Crapelet says, 60,000 volumes: but I have more faith in the first, than in the second, computation: not because it comes from myself, but because a pretty long experience, in the numbering of books, has taught me to be very moderate in my numerical estimates. I am about to tell the reader rather a curious anecdote connected with this subject. He may, or he may not, be acquainted with the Public Library at Cambridge; where, twenty-five years ago, they boasted of having 90,000 volumes; and now, 120,000 volumes. In the year 1823, I ventured to make, what I considered to be, rather a minute and carefull calculation of the whole number: and in a sub note in the _Library Companion_, p. 657, edit. 1824, stated my conviction of that number's not exceeding 65,000 volumes, including MSS. In the following year, a very careful estimate was made, by the Librarians, of the whole number:--and the result was, that there were only.... 64,800 volumes!] [107] Now, numbered with THE DEAD. Vide post. [108] [The translation of the whole of the concluding part of this letter, beginning from above, together with the few notes supplied, as seen in M. Crapelet's publication, is the work of M. Barbier's nephew.] [109] [For M. Barbier Junior's note, which, in M. Crapelet's publication, is here subjoined, consult the end of the Letter.] [110] See pages 65-7 ante. [111] [This conclusion is questioned with acuteness and success by M. Barbier's nephew. It seems rather that the MS. was finished in 781, to commemorate the victories of Charlemagne over his Lombardic enemies in 774.] [112] [This restoration, in the name of the City of Toulouse, was made in the above year--on the occasion of the baptism of Bonaparte's son. But it was not placed in the King's private library till 1814. BARBIER Jun.] [113] [Now complete in 8 volumes--at the cost of 80,000 francs!] [114] [The latter was the true guess: for M. Barbier died in 1825, in his 60th year.] [115] It was published in 1821. In one of his recent letters to me, the author thus observes--thereby giving a true portraiture of himself-- "Je sais, Monsieur, quelle est votre ardeur pour le travail: je sais aussi que c'est le moyen d'être heureux: ainsi je vous félicite d'être constamment occupé." M. Barbier is also one of the contributors to the _Biographie Universelle_,[116] and has written largely in the _Annales Encyclopédiques_. Among his contributions to the latter, is a very interesting "_Notice des principaux écrits relatifs à la personne et aux ouvrages de J.J. Rousseau_." His "_Catalogue des livres dans la Bibliothéque du Conseil d'Etat_, transported to Fontainbleau in 1807, and which was executed in a handsome folio volume, in 1802, is a correct and useful publication. I boast with justice of a copy of it, on fine paper, of which the author several years ago was so obliging as to beg my acceptance. [From an inscription in the fly-leaf of this Catalogue, I present the reader with a fac-simile of the hand-writing of its distinguished author.] [Autograph] [116] [I "ALONE am responsible for this Sin. _Suum Cuique_." BARBIER, Jun.] [117] [These volumes form the numbers 1316 and 1317 of the Catalogue of M. Barbier's library, sold by auction in 1828.] [118] [Consult _Bibl. Barbier_: Nos. 1490, 1491, 1861.] [119] [The agreeable and well instructed Bibliographer, to the praises of whom, in the preceding edition of this work, I was too happy to devote the above few pages, is now NO MORE. Mons. Barbier died in 1825, and his library--the richest in literary bibliography in Paris,--was sold in 1828. On referring to page 197 ante, it will be seen that I have alluded to a note of M. Barbier's nephew, of which some mention was to be made in this place. I will give that note in its _original language_, because the most felicitous version of it would only impair its force. It is subjoined to these words of my text: "Be pleased to go strait forward as far as you can see." "L'homme de service lui-même ne ferait plus cette rêponse aujourd'hui. Peu de temps après l'impression du Voyage de M. Dibdin, ce qu'on appelle une _organisation_ eut lieu. Après vingt-sept ans de travaux consacrés à la bibliographique et aux devoirs de sa place, M. Barbier, que ses fonctions paisibles avoient protégés contre les terribles dénonciations de 1815, n'a pu régister, en 1822, aux délations mensongères de quelque commis sous M. Lauriston. _Insere nunc, Meliboee, pyros; pone ordine vites_! J'ai partagé pendant vingt ans les travaux de mon oncle pour former la bibliothéque de la couronne, et j'ai du, ainsi que lui, être mis a la retraite au moment de la promotion du nouveau Conservateur." CRAPELET, vol. iv. p. 45. I will not pretend to say _what_ were the causes which led to such a disgraceful, because wholly unmerited, result. But I have reason to BELIEVE that a dirty faction was at work, to defame the character of the Librarian, and in consequence, to warp the judgment of the Monarch. Nothing short of infidelity to his trust should have moved SUCH a Man from the Chair which he had so honourably filled in the private Library of Louis XVIII. But M. Barbier was beyond suspicion on this head; and in ability he had perhaps, scarcely an equal--in the particular range of his pursuits. His _retreating_ PENSION was a very insufficient balm to heal the wounds which had been inflicted upon him; and it was evident to those, who had known him long and well, that he was secretly pining at heart, and that his days of happiness were gone. He survived the dismissal from his beloved Library only five years: dying in the plenitude of mental vigour. I shall always think of him with no common feelings of regret: for never did a kinder heart animate a well-stored head. I had hoped, if ever good fortune should carry me again to Paris, to have renewed, in person, an acquaintance, than which none had been more agreeable to me, since my first visit there in 1818: But ... "Diis aliter visum est." There is however a mournful pleasure in making public these attestations to the honour of his memory; and, in turn, I must be permitted to quote from the same author as the nephew of M. Barbier has done.... His saltem accumulem donis, et fungar inani Munere.... Perhaps the following anecdote relating to the deceased, may be as acceptable as it is curious. Those of my readers who have visited Paris, will have constantly observed, on the outsides of houses, the following letters, painted in large capitals: MACL: implying--as the different emblems of our Fire Offices imply-- "M[aison] A[ssurée] C[ontre] L'[incendie]:" in plain English, that such houses are insured against fire. Walking one afternoon with M. Barbier, I pointed to these letters, and said, "You, who have written upon _Anonymes_ and _Pseudonymes_, do you know what those letters signify?" He replied, "Assuredly--and they can have but _one_ meaning." "What is that?" He then explained them as I have just explained them. "But (rejoined I) since I have been at Paris, I have learnt that they also imply _another_ meaning." "What might that be?" Stopping him, and gently touching his arm, and looking round to see that we were not overheard, I answered in a suppressed tone:-- "M[es] A[mis] C[hassez] L[ouis]." He was thunderstruck. He had never heard it before: and to be told it by a stranger! "Mais (says he, smiling, and resuming his steps) "voila une chose infiniment drole!" Let it be remembered, that this HERETICAL construction upon these Initial Capitals was put at a time when the _Bonaparte Fever_ was yet making some of the pulses of the Parisians beat 85 strokes to the minute. _Now_, his Majesty Charles X. will smile as readily at this anecdote as did the incomparable Librarian of his Regal Predecessor. [INTRODUCTION TO LETTER VIII.] Before entering upon the perusal of this memorable Letter--which, in the previous edition, was numbered LETTER XXX,--(owing to the Letters having been numbered consecutively from the beginning to the end) I request the Reader's attention to a few preliminary remarks, which may possibly guide him to form a more correct estimate of its real character. MONS. LICQUET having published a French version of my Ninth Letter, descriptive of the Public Library at Rouen, (and to which an allusion has been made in vol. i. p. 99.) MONS. CRAPELET (see p. 1, ante) undertook a version of the _ensuing_ Letter: of which he printed _one hundred copies_. Both translations were printed in M. Crapelet's office, to arrange, in type and form of publication, as much as possible with my own; so that, if the _intrinsic_ merit of these versions could not secure purchasers, the beauty of the paper and of the press work (for both are very beautiful) might contribute to their circulation. To the version of M. Crapelet[120] was prefixed a _Preface_, combining such a mixture of malignity and misconception, that I did not hesitate answering it, in a privately printed tract, entitled "A ROLAND FOR AN OLIVER." Of this Tract, "only _thirty-six copies were printed_." "So much the better for the Author"--says M. Crapelet. The sequel will shew. In the publication of the _entire_ version of my Tour, by M.M. Licquet and Crapelet, the translation of this VIIIth Letter appears as it did in the previous publication--with the exception of the omission of the _Preface_: but in lieu of which, there is another and a short preface, by M. Crapelet, to the third volume, where, after telling his readers that his previous attempt had excited my "holy wrath," he seems to rejoice in the severity of those criticisms, which, in certain of our _own_ public Journals, have been passed upon my subsequent bibliographical labours. With these criticisms I have here nothing to do. If the authors of them can reconcile them to their own good sense and subsequent reflections, and the Public to their own INDEPENDENCE of JUDGMENT, the voice of remonstrance will be ineffectual. Time will strike the balance between the Critic and the Author: and without pretending to explore the mysteries of an occasional _getting-up_ of Reviews of particular articles, I think I can speak in the language of justice, as well as of confidence, of the Author of ONE of these reviews, by a quotation from the _Ajax Flagellifer_ of SOPHOCLES. [Greek: Blepô gar echthron phôta, kai tach' an kakois Gelôn, ha dê kakourgos exikoit' anêr.--] To return to M. Crapelet; and to have done with him. The _motive_ for his undertaking the version of this memorable Letter, about "BOOKSELLERS, PRINTERS, and BOOKBINDERS at Paris," seems to be wholly inconceivable; since the logic of the undertaking would be as follows. BECAUSE I have spoken favourably of the whole typographical fraternity--and because, in particular, of M. Crapelet, his _Ménage_, and Madame who is at the head of it--_because_ I have lauded his Press equally with his Cellar--THEREFORE the "_un_holy wrath" of M. Crapelet is excited; and he cannot endure the freedom taken by the English traveller. It would be abusing the confidence reposed in me by written communications, from characters of the first respectability, were I to make public a few of the sentiments contained in them--expressive of surprise and contempt at the performance of the French typographer. But in mercy to my adversary, he shall be spared the pain of their perusal. [120] [A young stranger, a Frenchman--living near the mountainous solitudes between Lyons and the entrance into Italy--and ardently attached to the study of bibliography--applied himself, under the guidance of a common friend--dear to us both from the excellence of his head and heart--to a steady perusal of the _Bibliographical Decameron_, and the _Tour_. He mastered both works within a comparatively short time. He then read _A Roland for an Oliver_--and voluntarily tendered to me his French translation of it. How successfully the whole has been accomplished, may be judged from the following part--being the version of my preface only. OBSERVATION PRELIMINAIRE. "La production de M. Crapelet rappelée, dans le titre précédent, sera considérée comme un phénomène dans son genre. Elle est, certes, sans antécédent et, pour l'honneur de la France, je desire qu'elle n'ait pas d'imitateurs. Quiconque prendra la peine de lire la trentième lettre de mon voyage, soit dans l'original, soit dans la version de M. Crapelet, en laissant de coté les notes qui appartiennent an traducteur, conviendra facilement que cette lettre manifeste les sentimens les plus impartiaux et les plus honorables à l'état actuel de la librairie et de l'imprimerie à Paris. Dans plusieurs passages, où l'on compare l'éxécution typographique, dans les deux pays, la supériorité est décidée en faveur de la France. Quant a _l'esprit_ qui a dicté cette lettre, je déclare, comme homme d'honneur, ne l'avoir pas composée, dans un systême d'opposition, envers ceux qu'elle concerne plus particulièrement. "Cependant, il n'en a pas moins plu à M. Crapelet, imprimeur de Paris, l'un de ceux dont il y est fait plus spécialement l'éloge, d'accompagner sa traduction de cette lettre, de notes déplacées et injurieuses pour le caractère de l'auteur et de son ouvrage. Par suite probablement du peu d'étendue de ses idées et de l'organisation vicieuse de ses autres sens, ce typographe s'est livré a une séries d'observations qui outragent autant la raison que la politesse, et qui décèlent hautement sa malignité et sa noirceur. Les formes de son procédé ne sont pas moins méprisables que le fond. Avec la prétention avouée de ne répandre que partiellement sa version, (Voulant blesser et cependant timide pour frapper) il s'est servi de ses propres presses et il a imprimé le texte et les notes avec des caractères et sur un papier aussi semblables que possible à ceux de l'ouvrage qu'il venait de traduire. Il en a surveillé, a ce qu'on assure, l'impression, avec l'attention personelle la plus scrupuleuse, en sorte qu'il n'est aucune _epreuvé égarée_, qui ait été soumise à d'autres yeux que les siens. Il a prit soin, en outre, d'en faire tirer, au moins, cent exemplaires, et de les répandre.[C] Comme ces cent exemplaires seront probablement lus par dix fois le même nombre de personnes, il y aurait eu plus de franchisé et peut-être plus de bon sens de la part de M. Crapelet à diriger publiquement ses coups contre moi que de le faire sous la couverture d'un _pamphlet privé_. Il a fait choix de ce genre d'attaque; il ne me reste plus qu'à adopter une semblable méthode de défense: si ce n'est, qu'au lieu de cent exemplaires, ces remarques ne seront véritablement imprimée qu'a _trente six_. Ce procédé est certes plus délicat que celui de mon adversaire; mais soit que M. Crapelet ait préféré l'obscurité à la lumière, il n'en est pas moins évident que son intention a été d'employer tous ses petits moyens, a renverser la réputation d'un ouvrage, dont il avoue lui-même avoir à peine lu la cinquantième partie! "Par le contenu de ses notes, on voit qu'il a cherché, avec une assiduité condamnable, a recueillir le mal qu'il me suppose avoir eu l'intention de dire des personnes que j'ai citées, et cependant, après tout ce travail, a peine a-t-il pû découvrir l'ombre d'une seule allusion maligne. Jamais on ne fit un usage plus déplorable de son tems et de ses peines, car toutes les phrases de cette production sont aussi obscures que tirées de loin. "Il est difficile, ainsi que je l'ai déjà observé, de se rendre compte des motifs d'une telle conduite. Mais M. Crapelet n'a fait part de son secret à personne, et d'après l'échantillon dont il s'agit ici, je n'ai nulle envie de le lui demander. T.F.D. "J'avais eu d'abord l'intention de relever chacunes des notes de M. Crapelet, mais de plus mûres réfléxions m'ont fait connaitre l'absurdité d'une telle enterprise. Je m'en suis donc tenu à la préface, sans toutefois, ainsi que le lecteur pourra s'en appercevoir, laisser tomber dans l'oubli le mérite des notes. Encore un mot; M. Crapelet m'a attaqué et je me suis défendu. Il peut récommencer, si cela lui fait plaisir; mais désormais je ne lui répondrai que par le silence et le mépris." [C] "M. Crapelet, en sa qualité de critique, a mis ici du raffinement; car je soupçonne qu'il y a eu au moins vingt cinq exemplaires tirés sur papier vélin. C'est ainsi qu'il sait dorer sa pillule, pour la rendre plus présentable aux dignes amis de l'auteur, les bibliophiles de Paris. Mais ces Messieurs ont trop bon gout pour l'accepter. _LETTER VIII._ SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LATE ABBÉ RIVE. BOOKSELLERS. PRINTERS. BOOK-BINDERS. I make no doubt that the conclusion of my last letter has led you to expect a renewal of the BOOK THEME: but rather, I should hope, as connected with those Bibliographers, Booksellers, and Printers, who have for so many years shed a sort of lustre upon _Parisian Literature_. It will therefore be no unappropriate continuation of this subject, if I commence by furnishing you with some particulars respecting a Bibliographer who was considered, in his life time, as the terror of his acquaintance, and the pride of his patron: and who seems to have never walked abroad, or sat at home, without a scourge in one hand, and a looking-glass in the other. Droll combination!-- you will exclaim. But it is of the ABBÉ RIVE of whom I now speak; the very _Ajax flagellifer_ of the bibliographical tribe, and at the same time the vainest and most self-sufficient. He seems, amidst all the controversy in which he delighted to be involved, to have always had _one_ never-failing source of consolation left:--that of seeing himself favourably reflected-- from the recollection of his past performances--in the mirror of his own conceit! I have before[121] descanted somewhat upon probably the most splendid of his projected performances, and now hasten to a more particular account of the man himself. It was early one morning--before I had even commenced my breakfast--that a stranger was announced to me. And who, think you, should that stranger turn out to be? Nothing less than the _Nephew_ of the late Abbé Rive. His name was MORENAS. His countenance was somewhat like that which Sir Thomas More describes the hero of his Utopia to have had. It was hard, swarthy, and severe. He seemed in every respect to be "a travelled man." But his manners and voice were mild and conciliating. "Some one had told him that I had written about the Abbé Rive, and that I was partial to his work. Would I do him the favour of a visit? when I might see, at his house, (_Rue du Vieux Colombier, près St. Sulpice_) the whole of the Abbé's MSS. and all his projected works for the press. They were for sale. Possibly I might wish to possess them?" I thanked the stranger for his intelligence, and promised I would call that same morning. M. Morenas has been indeed a great traveller. When I called, I found him living up two pair of stairs, preparing for another voyage to Senegal. He was surrounded by _trunks_ ... in which were deposited the literary remains of his uncle. In other words, these remains consisted of innumerable _cards_, closely packed, upon which the Abbé had written all his memoranda relating to ... I scarcely know what. But the whole, from the nephew's statement, seemed to be an encyclopædia of knowledge. In one trunk, were about _six thousand_ notices of MSS. of all ages; and of editions in the fifteenth century. In another trunk, were wedged about _twelve thousand_ descriptions of books in all languages, except those of French and Italian, from the sixteenth century to his own period: these were professed to be accompanied with critical notes. In a third trunk was a bundle of papers relating to the _History of the Troubadours_; in a fourth, was a collection of memoranda and literary sketches, connected with the invention of Arts and Sciences, with Antiquities, Dictionaries, and pieces exclusively bibliographical. A fifth trunk contained between _two and three thousand_ cards, written upon on each side, respecting a collection of prints; describing the ranks, degrees, and dignities of all nations--of which eleven folio _cahiers_ were published, in 1779--without the letter-press-- but in a manner to make the Abbé extremely dissatisfied with the engraver. In a sixth trunk were contained his papers respecting earthquakes, volcanoes, and geographical subjects: so that, you see, the Abbé Rive at least fancied himself a man of tolerably universal attainments. It was of course impossible to calculate the number, or to appreciate the merits, of such a multifarious collection; but on asking M. Morenas if he had made up his mind respecting the _price_ to be put upon it, he answered, that he thought he might safely demand 6000 francs for such a body of miscellaneous information. I told him that this was a sum much beyond my means to adventure; but that it was at least an object worthy of the consideration of the "higher powers" of his own government. He replied, that he had little hopes of success in those quarters: that he was anxious to resume his travels; talked of another trip to Senegal; for that, after so locomotive a life, a sedentary one was wearisome to him.... ... "trahit sua quemque voluptas!" Over the chimney-piece was a portrait, in pencil, of his late uncle: done from the life. It was the only one extant. It struck me indeed as singularly indicative of the keen, lively, penetrating talents of the original. On the back of the portrait were the lines which are here subjoined: _Dès sa plus tendre enfance aux études livré, La soif de la science l'a toujours dévoré. Une immense lecture enrichit ses écrits, Et la critique sure en augmente le prix._ These lines are copied from the _Journal des Savans_ for October 1779. Iean Joseph Rive was born at Apt, in 1730, and died at Marseilles in 1791. He had doubtless great parts, natural and acquired: a retentive memory, a quick perception, and a vast and varied reading. He probably commenced amassing his literary treasures as early as his fourteenth year; and to his latest breath he pursued his researches with unabated ardour. But his career was embittered by broils and controversies; while the frequent acts of kindness, and the general warmth of heart, evinced in his conduct, hardly sufficed to soften the asperity, or to mitigate the wrath, of a host of enemies--which assailed him to the very last. But Cadmus-like, he sowed the seeds from which these combatants sprung. Whatever were his defects, as a public character, he is said to have been, in private, a kind parent, a warm friend, and an excellent master. The only servant which he ever had, and who remained with him twenty-four years, mourned his loss as that of a father. Peace to his ashes! From bibliography let me gently, and naturally, as it were, conduct you towards BIBLIOPOLISM. In other words, allow me to give you a sketch of a few of the principal Booksellers in this gay metropolis; who strive, by the sale of instructive and curious tomes, sometimes printed in the black letter of _Gourmont_ and _Marnef_, to stem the torrent of those trivial or mischievous productions which swarm about the avenues of the Palais Royal. In ancient times, the neighbourhood of the SORBONNE was the great mart for books. When I dined in this neighbourhood, with my friend M. Gail, the Greek Professor at the College Royale, I took an opportunity of leisurely examining this once renowned quarter. I felt even proud and happy to walk the streets, or rather tread the earth, which had been once trodden by _Gering_, _Crantz_, and _Fiburger_.[122] Their spirits seemed yet to haunt the spot:--but no volume, nor even traces of one--executed at their press-- could be discovered. To have found a perfect copy of _Terence_, printed in their first Roman character, would have been a _trouvaille_ sufficiently lucky to have compensated for all previous toil, and to have franked me as far as Strasbourg. The principal mart for booksellers, of old and second hand books, is now nearer the Seine; and especially in the _Quai des Augustins_. _Messrs. Treuttel and Würtz, Panckoucke, Renouard_, and _Brunet_, live within a quarter of a mile of each other: about a couple of hundred yards from the _Quai des Augustins_. Further to the south, and not far from the Hotel de Clugny, in the _Rue Serpente_, live the celebrated DEBURE. They are booksellers to the King, and to the Royal Library; and a more respectable house, or a more ancient firm, is probably not to be found in Europe. Messrs. Debure are as straight-forward, obliging, and correct, in their transactions, as they are knowing in the value, and upright in the sale, of their stock in trade. No bookseller in Paris possesses a more judicious stock, or can point to so many rare and curious books. A young collector may rely with perfect safety upon them; and accumulate, for a few hundred pounds, a very respectable stock of _Editiones principes_ or _rarissimæ_. I do not say that such young collector would find them _cheaper there_, or _so cheap_ as in _Pall-Mall_; but I do say that he may rest assured that Messieurs Debure would never, knowingly, sell him an imperfect book. Of the Debure, there are two brothers: of whom the elder hath a most gallant propensity to _portrait-collecting_--and is even rich in portraits relating to _our_ history. Of course the chief strength lies in French history; and I should think that Monsieur Debure l'ainé shewed me almost as many portraits of Louis XIV. as there are editions of the various works of Cicero in the fifteenth century.[123] But my attention was more particularly directed to a certain boudoir, up one pair of stairs, in which Madame Debure, their venerable and excellent mother, chooses to deposit some few very choice copies of works in almost every department of knowledge. There was about _one_ of the _best_ editions in each department: and whether it were the Bible, or the History of the Bucaineers--whether a lyrical poet of the reign of Louis XIV. or the ballad metres of that of François Premier ... there you found it!--bound by Padaloup, or Deseuille, or De Rome. What think you, among these "choice copies," of the _Cancionero Generale_ printed at Toledo in 1527, in the black letter, double columned, in folio? Enough to madden even our poet-laureat--for life! I should add, that these books are not thus carefully kept together for the sake of _shew_: for their owner is a fair good linguist, and can read the Spanish with tolerable fluency. Long may she yet read it.[124] The Debure had the selling, by auction, of the far-famed M'CARTHY LIBRARY; and I saw upon their shelves some of the remains of that splendid membranaceous collection. Indeed I bought several desirable specimens of it: among them, a fine copy of _Vindelin de Spira's_ edition (1471) of _St. Cyprians Epistles_, UPON VELLUM.[125] Like their leading brethren in the neighbourhood, Messieurs Debure keep their country house, and there pass the Sabbath. The house of TREUTTEL and WURTZ is one of the richest and one of the most respectable in Europe. The commerce of that House is chiefly in the wholesale way; and they are, in particular, the publishers and proprietors of all the great classical works put forth at _Strasbourg_. Indeed, it was at this latter place where the family first took root: but the branches of their prosperity have spread to Paris and to London with nearly equal luxuriance. They have a noble house in the _Rue de Bourbon_, no. 17: like unto an hotel; where each day's post brings them despatches from the chief towns in Europe. Their business is regulated with care, civility, and dispatch; and their manners are at once courteous and frank. Nothing would satisfy them but I must spend a Sabbath with them, at their country house at _Groslai_; hard by the village and vale of Montmorenci. I assented willingly. On the following Sunday, their capacious family coach, and pair of sleek, round, fat black horses, arrived at my lodgings by ten o'clock; and an hour and three quarters brought me to Groslai. The cherries were ripe, and the trees were well laden with fruit: for Montmorenci cherries, as you may have heard, are proverbial for their excellence. I spent a very agreeable day with mine hosts. Their house is large and pleasantly situated, and the view of Paris from thence is rather picturesque. But I was most struck with the conversation and conduct of Madame Treuttel. She is a thoroughly good woman. She has raised, at her own expense, an alms-house in the village for twelve poor men; and built a national school for the instruction of the poor and ignorant of both sexes. She is herself a Lutheran Protestant; as are her husband and her son-in-law M. Würtz. At first, she had some difficulties to encounter respecting the _school_; and sundry conferences with the village Curé, and some of the head clergy of Paris, were in consequence held. At length all difficulties were surmounted by the promise given, on the part of Madame Treuttel, to introduce only the French version of the Bible by _De Sacy_. Hence the school was built, and the children of the village flocked in numbers to it for instruction. I visited both the alms-house and the school, and could not withhold my tribute of hearty commendation at the generosity, and thoroughly Christian spirit, of the foundress of such establishments. There is more good sense and more private and public virtue, in the application of superfluous wealth in this manner, than in the erection of a hundred palaces like that at _Versailles!_[126] A different, and a more touching object presented itself to my view in the garden. Walking with Madame, we came, through various détours, into a retired and wooded part: where, on opening a sort of wicket gate, I found myself in a small square space, with hillocks in the shape of _tumuli_ before me. A bench was at the extremity. It was a resting place for the living, and a depository of the dead. Flowers, now a good deal faded, were growing upon these little mounds--beneath which the dead seemed to sleep in peace. "What might this mean?" "Sir," replied Madame Treuttel, "this is consecrated ground. My son-in-law sleeps here--and his only and beloved child lies by the side of him. You will meet my daughter, his wife, at dinner. She, with myself, visit this spot at stated seasons--when we renew and indulge our sorrows on the recollection of those who sleep beneath. These are losses which the world can never repair. We all mean to be interred within the same little fenced space.[127] I have obtained a long lease of it--for some fifty years: at the expiration of which time, the work of dissolution will be sufficiently complete with us all." So spake my amiable and enlightened guide. The remainder of the day--during which we took a stroll to Montmorenci, and saw the house and gardens where Rousseau wrote his _Emile_--was spent in a mixed but not irrational manner: much accordant with my own feelings, and most congenial with a languid state of body which had endured the heats of Paris for a month, without feeling scarcely a breath of air the whole time. ANTOINE-AUGUSTIN RENOUARD, living in the _Rue St. André des Arts_, is the next bibliopolist whom I shall introduce to your attention. He is among the most lynx-eyed of his fraternity: has a great knowledge of books; a delightful ALDINE LIBRARY;[128]--from which his Annals of the Aldine Press were chiefly composed--and is withal a man in a great and successful line of business. I should say he is a rich man; not because he has five hundred bottles of Burgundy in his cellar, which some may think to be of a more piquant quality than the like number of his _Alduses_--but because he has published some very beautiful and expensive editions of the Latin and French Classics, with equal credit to himself and advantage to his finances.[129] He _debuted_ with a fine edition of _Lucan_ in 1795, folio; and the first catalogue of his books was put forth the following year. From that moment to the present, he has never slackened head, hand, or foot, in the prosecution of his business; while the publication of his _Annals of the Aldine Press_ places him among the most skilful and most instructive booksellers in Europe. It is indeed a masterly performance: and as useful as it is elegantly printed.[130] M. Renouard is now occupied in an improved edition of _Voltaire_, which he means to adorn with engravings; and of which he shewed me the original drawings by Moreau, with many of the plates.[131] He seems in high spirits about the success of it, and leans with confidence upon the strength of a host of subscribers. Nor does a rival edition, just struggling into day, cause him to entertain less sanguine expectations of final success. This enterprising bookseller is now also busily occupied about a _Descriptive Catalogue of his own library_, in which he means to indulge himself in sundry gossipping notes, critical disquisitions, and piquant anecdotes. I look forward with pleasure to its appearance; and turn a deaf ear to the whispers which have reached me of an intended _brush_ at the Decameron.[132] M. Renouard has allowed me free access to his library; which also contains some very beautiful copies of books printed in the fifteenth century. Among these latter, his VELLUM VALDARFER is of course considered, by himself and his friends, as the _keimelion_ of the collection. It is the edition of the _Orations of Cicero_, printed by Valdarfer, at Venice, in 1471, folio: a most exquisite book--which may be fairly considered as perfect throughout. It is in its second binding, but _that_ may be as old as the time of Francis I.: perhaps about the middle of the sixteenth century. This copy measures thirteen inches in height, by eight inches and seven-eighths in width:--almost, I conceive, in its original state of amplitude. I will frankly own that I turned over the leaves of this precious book, again and again--"sighed and looked, &c." "But would no price tempt the owner to part with it?" "None. It is reserved as the bijou of my catalogue, and departs not from hence." Severe, but just decree! There is only one other known copy of it upon vellum, which is in the Royal Library[133]--but which wants a leaf of the table; an imperfection, not belonging to the present copy. The other "great guns," as VELLUM BOOKS, in the collection of M. Renouard, are what is called the _Familiar Epistles of Cicero_ printed by _Aldus_ in 1502, 12mo: and the _Petrarch_ of 1514, 8vo. also printed by Aldus. Of these, the _latter_ is by much the preferable volume. It is almost as large as it can well be: but badly bound in red morocco.[134] The Cicero is short and sallow-looking. It was on the occasion of his son starting for the first time on a bibliographical tour, and, on crossing the Rhine, and finding this Cicero and the almost equally rare _Aldine Virgil_ of 1505, that a relation of this "fortunate youth" invoked his muse in some few verses, which he printed and gave to me.[135] These are little "plaisanteries" which give a relish to our favourite pursuits; and which may at some future day make the son transcend the father in bibliographical renown. Perhaps the father has already preferred a prayer upon the subject, as thus: [Greek: Zeu, alloi te Theoi, dote dê kai tonde genesthai Paid emon ôs kai egô per, ....] There are some few noble volumes, from the press of _Sweynheym and Pannartz_, in this collection; and the finest copy of the FIRST LUCIAN in Greek, which perhaps any where exists.[136] It was obtained at a recent sale, (where it was coated in a lapping-over vellum surtout) at a pretty smart price; and has been recently clothed in blue morocco. M. Renouard has also some beautiful copies from the library of _De Thou_, and a partly uncut _Aldine Theophrastus_ of 1497, which belonged to Henry the Second and Diane de Poictiers; as well as a completely uncut copy of the first _Aldine Aristotle_.[137] Few men probably have been luckier in obtaining several of their choice articles; and the little anecdotes which he related to me, are such as I make no doubt will appear in the projected catalogue raisonné of his library. He is just now briskly engaged in the pursuit of _uncut Elzevirs_ ... and coming to breakfast with me, the other morning, he must needs pick up a beautiful copy of this kind, in two small volumes, neatly half bound, (of which I have forgotten the title,) and of which he had been for some time in the pursuit. M. Renouard also took occasion to tell me that, in his way to my chambers, he had sold, or subscribed, of a forthcoming work to be published by him--just _nine hundred and ninety-nine copies!_ Of course, after such a _trouvaille_ and such a subscription, he relished his breakfast exceedingly. He is a man of quick movements, of acute perceptions, of unremitting ardour and activity of mind and body-- constantly engaged in his business, managing a very extensive correspondence, and personally known to the most distinguished Collectors of Italy. Like his neighbours, he has his country-house, or rather farm, in Picardy[138] whither he retires, occasionally to view the condition and growing strength of that species of animal, from the backs of which his beloved Aldus of old, obtained the _matériel_ for his vellum copies. But it is time to wish M. Renouard a good morning, and to take you with me to his neighbour-- MONS. BRUNET, THE YOUNGER. This distinguished bibliographer, rather than bookseller, lives hard by--in the _Rue Gît-Le-Coeur_. He lives with his father, who superintends the business of the shop. The Rue Gît-Le-Coeur is a sorry street--very diminutive, and a sort of cropt copy--to what it should have been, or what it might have been. However, there lives JACQ. CH. BRUNET, FILS: a writer, who will be known to the latest times in the bibliographical world. He will be also thanked as well as known; for his _Manuel du Libraire_ is a performance of incomparable utility to all classes of readers and collectors. You mount up one pair of stairs:--the way is gloomy, and might well lead to a chamber in the monastery of La Trappe. You then read an incription, which tells you that "in turning the button you pull the bell." The bell sounds, and _Mons. Brunet, Pere_, receives you--with, or without, a silken cap upon his head. He sits in a small room, sufficiently well filled with books. "Is the Son at home?" "Open that door, Sir, you will find him in the next room." The door is immediately opened--and there sits the son, surrounded by, and almost imprisoned in, papers and books. His pen is in his hand: his spectacles are upon his nose: and he is transcribing or re-casting some precious little bit of bibliographical intelligence; while, on looking up and receiving you, he seems to be "full of the labouring God!" In short, he is just now deeply and unintermittingly engaged in a new and _third_ edition of his _Manuel_.[139] The shelves of his room almost groan beneath the weight of those writers from whom he gathers his principal materials. "Vous voilà, Mons. Brunet, bien occupé!;" "Oui, Monsieur, cela me fait autant de plaisir que de peine." This is a very picture of the man.... "The labour we delight in physics pain,"--said Lady Macbeth of old; and of a most extraordinary kind must the labour of Mons. Brunet be considered, when the pleasure in the prosecution of it balances the pain. We talked much and variously at our first interview: having previously interchanged many civilities by letter, and myself having been benefitted by such correspondence, in the possession of a _large paper_ copy of his first edition--of which he was pleased to make me a present, and of which only twenty copies were struck off. I told him that I had given Charles Lewis a carte blanche for its binding, and that I would back _his_ skill--the result of such an order--against any binding at that time visible in any quarter of Paris! Mons. B. could not, in his heart, have considered any other binding superior. He told me, somewhat to my astonishment, and much to my gratification, that, of the first edition of his _Manuel_, he had printed and sold _two thousand_ copies. This could never have been done in our country: because, doubting whether it would have been so accurately printed, it could never have been published, in the same elegant manner, for the same price. The charges of our printers would have been at least double. In the typographical execution of it, M. Crapelet has almost outdone himself. Reverting to the author, I must honestly declare that he has well merited all he has gained, and will well merit all the gains which are in store for him. His application is severe, constant, and of long continuance. He discards all ornament,[140] whether graphic or literary. He is never therefore digressive; having only a simple tale to tell, and that tale being almost always _well_ and _truly_ told.[141] In his opinions, he is firm and rational, and sometimes a little pugnacious in the upholding of them. But he loves only to breathe in a bibliographical element, and is never happier than when he has detected some error, or acquired some new information; especially if it relate to an _Editio Princeps_.[142] There is also something very naïf and characteristic in his manner and conversation. He copies no one; and may be said to be a citizen of the world. In short, he has as little _nationality_ in his opinions and conversation, as any Frenchman with whom I have yet conversed. Thus much for the leading booksellers of Paris on the south side of the Seine: or, indeed, I may say in the whole city. But, because the south is a warm and genial aspect in the bringing forth of all species of productions, it does not necessarily follow that ... there should be _no_ bibliopolistic vegetation on the _north_ side of the Seine. Prepare therefore to be introduced to MONS. CHARDIN, in the _Rue St. Anne_, no. 19; running nearly at right angles with the _Rue St. Honoré_, not far from the _Eglise St. Roq._ M. Chardin is the last surviving remains of the OLD SCHOOL of booksellers in Paris; and as I love antiquities of almost all kinds, I love to have a little occasional gossip with M. Chardin. A finer old man, with a more characteristic physiognomy, hath not appeared in France from the time of Gering downwards. M. Chardin is above the mean height; is usually attired in a rocquelaure; and his fine flowing grey locks are usually surmounted by a small black silk cap. His countenance is penetrating, but mild: and he has a certain air of the "Old School" about him, which is always, to my old-fashioned taste, interesting and pleasing. In his youth he must have been handsome, and his complexion is yet delicate. But good old M. Chardin is an oddity in his way. He physics "according to the book"--that is, according to the Almanack; although I should think he had scarcely one spare ounce of blood in his veins. Phlebotomy is his "dear delight." He is always complaining, and yet expects to be always free from complaint. But Madame will have it so, and Monsieur is consenting. He lives on the floor just above the entresol, and his two or three small apartments are gaily furnished with books. The interior is very interesting; for his chief treasures are locked up within glazed cabinets, which display many a rich and rare article. These cabinets are beautifully ornamented: and I do assure you that it is but justice to their owner to say, that they contain many an article which does credit to his taste. This taste consists principally in a love of ornamented MSS. and printed books UPON VELLUM, in general very richly bound.[143] It is scarcely seven years ago since M. Chardin published an octavo catalogue, of nearly two hundred pages, of MSS. and printed books ... all upon vellum. He has been long noted for rarities of this kind. "Il n'y a que des livres rares" is his constant exclamation--as you open his glazed doors, and stretch forth your hand to take down his treasures. He is the EDWARDS of France, but upon a smaller scale of action. Nor does he push his _wares_, although he does his _prices_. You may buy or not, but you must _pay_ for what you _do_ buy. There is another oddity about this courteous and venerable bibliopolist. He has a great passion for making his _Alduses_ perfect by means of _manuscript_; and I must say, that, supposing this plan to be a good one, he has carried it into execution in a surprisingly perfect manner: for you can scarcely, by candle-light, detect the difference between what is printed and what is executed with a pen. I think it was the whole of the _Scholia_ attached to the Aldine _Discorides_, in folio, and a great number of leaves in the _Grammatical Institutes of Urbanus_, of 1497, 4to. with several other smaller volumes, which I saw thus rendered perfect: How any scribe can be sufficiently paid for such toil, is to me inconceivable: and how it can answer the purpose of any bookseller so to complete his copies, is also equally unaccountable: for be it known, that good M. Chardin leaves _you_ to make the _discovery_ of the MS. portion; and when you _have_ made it,--he innocently subjoins--"Oui, Monsieur, n'est il pas beau?" In a sort of passage, between his principal shew-room and his bed room, is contained a very large collection of tracts and printed volumes relating to the FAIR SEX: being, in fact, nothing less than a prodigious heap of publications "FOR and AGAINST" the ladies. M. Chardin will not separate them--adding that the "bane and antidote must always go together." This singular character is also vehemently attached to antiquarian _nick-knackery_. Old china, old drawings, old paintings, old carvings, and old relics--of whatever kind--are surveyed by him with a curious eye, and purchased with a well-laden purse. He never speaks of GOUJIN but in raptures. We made an exchange the other day. M. Chardin hath no small variety of walking canes. He visited me at the Hôtel one morning, leaning upon a fine dark bamboo-stick, which was _headed_ by an elaborately carved piece of ivory--the performance of the said Goujon. It consisted of a recumbent female, (with a large flapped hat on) of which the head was supported by a shield of coat armour.[144] We struck a bargain in five minutes. He presented me the _stick_, on condition of my presenting him with a choice copy of the _Ædes Althorpianæ_. We parted well satisfied with each other; but I suspect that the purchase of about four-score pounds worth of books, added much to the satisfaction on his part. Like all his brethren of the same craft, M. Chardin disports himself on Saturdays and Sundays at his little "ferme ornée," within some four miles of Paris-- having, as he gaily told me "nothing now to do but to make poesies for the fair sex."[145] With Chardin I close my bibliopolistic narrative; not meaning thereby to throw other booksellers into the least degree of shade, but simply to transmit to you an account of such as I have seen and have transacted business with. And now, prepare for some account of PRINTERS ... or rather of _three presses_ only,--certainly the most distinguished in Paris. I mean those of the DIDOT and that of M. CRAPELET. The name of Didot will last as long as learning and taste shall last in any quarter of the globe: nor am I sure, after all, that what _Bodoni, Bensley_, and _Bulmer_ have done, collectively, has redounded _more_ to the credit of their countries than what Didot has achieved for France. In ancient classical literature, however, Bodoni has a right to claim an exception and a superiority. The elder, _Pierre Didot_, is Printer to his Majesty. But when Pierre Didot l'ainé chose to adopt his _own_ fount of letter--how exquisitely does his skill appear in the folio _Virgil_ of 1798, and yet more, perhaps, in the folio Horace of 1799!? These are books which never have been, and never _can_ be, eclipsed. Yet I own that the Horace, from the enchanting vignettes of _Percier_, engraved by Girardais, is to my taste the preferable volume.[146] FIRMIN DIDOT now manages the press in the _Rué Jacob;_ and if he had never executed any thing but the _Lusiad_ of _Camoens_, his name would be worthy to go down to posterity by the side of that of his uncle. The number of books printed and published by the Didots is almost incredible; especially of publications in the Latin and French languages. Of course I include the _Stereotype_ productions: which are very neat and very commodious--but perhaps the page has rather too dazzling an effect. I paid a visit the other day to the office of Firmin Didot; who is a letter founder "as well as a printer.[147] To a question which I asked the nephew, (I think) respecting the number of copies and sizes, of the famous _Lusiad_ just mentioned, he answered, that there were only _two hundred_ copies, and those only of _one size_. Let that suffice to comfort those who are in terror of having the small paper, and to silence such as try to depreciate the value of the book, from the supposed additional number of copies struck off. I wished to know the costs and charges of _printing_, &c.--from which the comparative price of labour in the two countries might be estimated. M. Didot told me that the entire charges for printing, and pulling, one thousand copies of a full octavo size volume--containing thirty lines in a page, in a middle-size-letter--including _every thing_ but _paper_--was thirty-five francs per sheet. I am persuaded that such a thing could not be done at home under very little short of double the price:--whether it be that our printers, including the most respectable, are absolutely more extravagant in their charges, or that the wages of the compositors are double those which are given in France. After Didot, comes CRAPELET--in business, skill, and celebrity. He is himself a very pleasant, unaffected man; scarcely thirty-six; and likely, in consequence, to become the richest printer in Paris. I have visited him frequently, and dined with him once--when he was pleased to invite some agreeable, well-informed, and gentlemanly guests to meet me. Among them was a M. REY, who has written "_Essais Historiques et Critiques sur Richard III. Roi d'Angleterre_," just printed in a handsome octavo volume by our Host. Our conversation, upon the whole; was mixed; agreeable, and instructive. Madame Crapelet, who is at this moment (as I should conjecture) perhaps pretty equally divided between her twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth year, and who may be classed among the prettier ladies of Paris, did the honours of the fête in a very agreeable manner: nor can it be a matter of surprise that the choicest Chambertin and Champagne sparkled upon the table of _one_--who, during the libations of his guests; had the tympans and friskets of _twenty-two Presses_ in full play![148] We retired, after dinner, into a spacious drawing room to coffee and liqueurs: and anon, to a further room, wherein was a BOOK-CASE filled by some of the choicest specimens of the press of its owner, as well as of other celebrated printers. I have forgotten what we took down or what we especially admired: but, to a question respecting the _present_ state of business, as connected with _literature_ and _printing_, at Paris, M. Crapelet replied (as indeed, if I remember rightly, M. Didot did also) that "matters never went on better." Reprints even of old authors were in agitation: and two editions of _Montaigne_ were at that moment going on in his own house. I complimented M. Crapelet--and with equal sincerity and justice--upon the typographical execution of M. Brunet's _Manuel du Libraire_. No printer in our own country, could have executed it more perfectly. "What might have been the charge per sheet?" My host received the compliment very soberly and properly; and gave me a general item about the expense of printing and paper, &c., which really surprised me; and returned it with a warm eulogy upon the paper and press-work of a recent publication from the _Shakspeare press_--which, said he, "I despair of excelling." "And then (added he), your prettily executed vignettes, and larger prints! In France this branch of the art is absolutely not understood[149]--and besides, we cannot publish books at _your_ prices!" We must now bid adieu to the types of M. Crapelet below stairs, and to his "good cheer" above; and with him take our leave of Parisian booksellers and printers.[150] What then remains, in the book way, worthy of especial notice? Do you ask this question? I will answer it in a trice--BOOK-BINDING. Yes ... some few hours of my residence in this metropolis have been devoted to an examination of this _seductive_ branch of book commerce. And yet I have not seen--nor am I likely to see--one single binder: either _Thouvenin, or Simier, or Braidel, or Lesné_. I am not sure whether Courteval, or either of the Bozérians, be living: but their _handy works_ live and are lauded in every quarter of Paris. The restorer, or the Father, (if you prefer this latter appellative) of modern Book-binding in France, was the Elder Bozérian: of whose productions the book-amateurs of Paris are enthusiastically fond. Bozérian undoubtedly had his merits;[151] but he was fond of gilt tooling to excess. His ornaments are too minute and too profuse; and moreover, occasionally, very unskilfully worked. His choice of morocco is not always to my taste; while his joints are neither carefully measured, nor do they play easily; and his linings are often gaudy to excess. He is however hailed as the legitimate restorer of that taste in binding, which delighted the purchasers in the Augustan age of book-collecting. One merit must not be denied him: his boards are usually square, and well measured. His volumes open well, and are beaten ... too unmercifully. It is the reigning error of French binders. They think they can never beat a book sufficiently. They exercise a tyranny over the leaves, as bad as that of eastern despots over their prostrate slaves. Let them look a little into the bindings of those volumes before described by me, in the lower regions of the Royal Library[152]--and hence learn, that, to hear the leases crackle as they are turned over, produces _nearly_ as much comfort to the thorough-bred collector, as does the prattling of the first infant to the doating parent. THOUVENIN[153] and SIMIER are now the morning and evening stars in the bibliopegistic hemisphere. Of these, Thouvenin makes a higher circle in the heavens; but Simier shines with no very despicable lustre. Their work is good, substantial, and pretty nearly in the same taste. The folio Psalter of 1502, (I think) in the Royal Library, is considered to be the _ne plus ultra_ of modern book-binding at Paris; and, if I mistake not, Thouvenin is the artist in whose charcoal furnace, the tools, which produced this _êchantillon_, were heated. I have no hesitation in saying, that, considered as an extraordinary specimen of art, it is a failure. The ornaments are common place; the lining is decidedly bad; and there is a clumsiness of finish throughout the whole. The head-bands--as indeed are those of Bozérian--are clumsily managed: and I may say that it exhibits a manifest inferiority even to the productions of Mackinlay, Hering, Clarke, and Fairbairn. Indeed either of these artists would greatly eclipse it. I learn that Thouvenin keeps books in his possession as long as does a _certain_ binder with us--- who just now shall be nameless. Of course Charles Lewis would smile complacently if you talked to _him_ about rivalling such a performance![154] There is a book-binder of the name of LESNÉ--just now occupied, as I learn, in writing a poem upon his Art[155]--who is also talked of as an artist of respectable skill. They say, however, that he _writes_ better than he _binds_. So much the worse for his little ones, if he be married. Indeed several very sensible and impartial collectors, with whom I have discoursed, also seem to think that the art of book-binding in France is just now, if not retrograding, at least stationary--and apparently incapable of being carried to a higher pitch of excellence. I doubt this very much. They can do what they have done before. And no such great conjuration is required in going even far beyond it. Let Thouvenin and Simier, and even the _Poet_ himself, examine carefully the choice of tools, and manner of gilding, used by our more celebrated binders, and they need not despair of rivalling them. Above all, let them look well to the management of the backs of their books, and especially to the headbands. The latter are in general heavy and inelegant. Let them also avoid too much choking and beating, (I use technical words--- which you understand as well as any French or English bookbinder) and especially to be square, even, and delicate in the bands; and the "Saturnia regna" of book-binding in France may speedily return. [121] _Bibliomania_; p. 79. _Bibliographical Decameron_; vol. i. p. xxii. [122] See the _Bibliographical Decameron_; vol. ii. p. 20. [123] [Consistently with the plan intended to be pursued in this edition, I annex a fac-simile of their autograph.] [Illustration] [124] [Madame Debure died a few years ago at an advanced age.] [125] [Mr. Hibbert obtained this volume from me, which will be sold at the sale of his Library in the course of this season.] [126] [Nothing can be more perfectly ridiculous and absurd than the manner in which M. Crapelet flies out at the above expression! He taunts us, poor English, with always drawing comparisons against other nations, in favour of the splendour and opulence of our own Hospitals and Charitable Foundations--a thought, that never possessed me while writing the above, and which would require the peculiar obliquity, or perversity of talents, of my translator to detect. I once thought of _dissecting_ his petulant and unprovoked note--but it is not worth blunting the edge of one's pen in the attempt.] [127] [In a few years afterwards, the body of the husband of Madame Treuttel was consigned to _this_, its _last_ earthly resting-place. M. JEAN-GEORGE TREUTTEL, died on the 14th Dec. 1825, not long after the completion of his 82d year: full of years, full of reputation, and credit, and of every sublunary comfort, to soothe those who survived him. I have before me a printed Memoir of his Obsequies--graced by the presence and by the orations of several excellent Ministers of the Lutheran persuasion: by all the branches of his numerous family; and by a great concourse of sympathising neighbours. Few citizens of the world, in the largest sense of this expression, have so adorned the particular line of life in which they have walked; and M. Treuttel was equally, to his country and to his family, an ornament of a high cast of character. "O bon et vertueux ami, que ne peut tu voir les regrets de tous ceux qui t' accompagnent à ta derniere demeure, pour te dire encore une fois à REVOIR!" _Discours_ de M. COMARTIN _Maire de Groslai_: Dec. 17.] [128] ["Delightful" as was this Library, the thought of the money for which it might sell, seems to have been more delightful. The sale of it-- consisting of 1028 articles--took place in the spring of last year, under the hammer of Mr. Evans; and a surprisingly prosperous sale it was. I would venture to stake a good round sum, that no one individual was _more_ surprized at this prosperous result than the OWNER of the Library himself. The gross produce was £2704. 1s. The net produce was such... as ought to make that said owner grateful for the spirit of competition and high liberality which marked the biddings of the purchasers. In what country but OLD ENGLAND could such a spirit have been manifested! Will Mons. Renouard, in consequence, venture upon the transportation of the _remaining_ portion of his Library hither? There is a strong feeling that he _will_. With all my heart--but let him beware of his MODERN VELLUMS!!] [129] [I shall _now_ presume to say, that M. Renouard is a "VERY rich man;" and has by this time added _another_ 500 bottles of high-flavoured Burgundy to his previous stock. The mention of M. Renouard's Burgundy has again chafed M. Crapelet: who remarks, that "it is useless to observe how ridiculous such an observation is." Then why _dwell_ upon it--and why quote three verses of Boileau to bolster up your vapid prose, Mons. G.A. Crapelet.?] [130] [The _second_ edition of this work, greatly enlarged and corrected, appeared in 1825, in 3 volumes: printed very elegantly at the son's (Paul Renouard's) office. Of this improved edition, the father was so obliging as to present me with a copy, accompanied by a letter, of which I am sure that its author will forgive the quotation of its conclusion--to which is affixed his autograph. "Quoiqu'il en soit, je vous prie de vouloir bien l'agréer comme un témoignage de nos anciennes liaisons, et d'être bien persuadé du dévouement sincere et amical avec lequel je n'ai jamais cessé d'être. Votre très humble Serviteur, [Autograph: AulAug. Renouard] [131] [Now completed in 60 volumes 8vo.: and the most copious and correct of ALL the editions of the author. It is a monument, as splendid as honourable, of the Publisher's spirit of enterprise. For particulars, consult the _Library Companion_, p. 771, edit. 1824.] [132] The year following the above description, the Catalogue, alluded to, made its appearance under the title of "_Catalogue de la Bibliothèque d'un Amateur_," in four not _very_ capacious octavo volumes: printed by CRAPELET, who finds it impossible to print--_ill_. I am very glad such a catalogue has been published; and I hope it will be at once a stimulus and a model for other booksellers, with large and curious stocks in hand, to do the same thing. But I think M. Renouard might have conveniently got the essentials of his bibliographical gossipping into _two_ volumes; particularly as, in reading such a work, one must necessarily turn rapidly over many leaves which contain articles of comparatively common occurrence, and of scarcely common interest. It is more especially in regard to _modern_ French books, of which he seems to rejoice and revel in the description--(see, among other references, vol. iii. p. 286-310) that we may be allowed to regret such dilated statements; the more so, as, to the fastidious taste of the English, the engravings, in the different articles described, have not the beauty and merit which are attached to them by the French. Yet does M. Renouard narrate pleasantly, and write elegantly. In regard to the "_brush_ at the Decameron," above alluded to, I read it with surprise and pleasure--on the score of the moderate tone of criticism which it displayed--and shall wear it in my hat with as much triumph as a sportsman does a "brush" of a different description! Was it _originally_ more _piquan?_ I have reason not only to suspect, but to know, that it WAS. Be this as it may, I should never, in the first place, have been backward in returning all home thrusts upon the aggressor--and, in the second place, I am perfectly disposed that my work may stand by the test of such criticism. It is, upon the whole, fair and just; and _justice_ always implies the mention of _defects_ as well as of excellencies. It may, however, be material to remark, that the _third_ volume of the Decameron is hardly amenable to the tribunal of French criticism; inasmuch as the information which it contains is almost entirely national--and therefore partial in its application. [133] [Not so. Messrs. Payne and Foss once shewed me a yet _larger_ copy of it upon vellum, than even M. Renouard's: but so many of the leaves had imbibed an indelible stain, which no skill could eradicate, that it was scarcely a saleable article. It was afterwards bought by Mr. Bohn at a public auction.] [134] [It was sold at the Sale of his Aldine Library for £68. 15s. 8d. and is now, I believe, in the fine Collection of Sir John Thorold, Bart, at Syston Park. The Cicero did not come over for sale.] [135] [In the previous edition I had supposed, erroneously, that it was the Father, M. Renouard himself, who had invoked his name on the occasion. The verses are pretty enough, and may as well find a place _here_ as in M. Crapelet's performance. Je l'ai vu ce fameux bouquin Qui te fait un titre de gloire: Tout Francois qui passe le Rhin Doit remporter une Victoire.] [136] [M. Renouard obtained it at a public sale in Paris, against a very stiff commission left for it by myself. A copy of equal beauty is in the Library of the Right Hon. T. Grenville.] [137] [The Theophrastus was sold for £12 1s. 6d. and the Aristotle for £40. The latter is in the Library of the Rt. Hon. T. Grenville, having been subsequently coated in red morocco by C. Lewis.] [138] [It seems that I have committed a very grave error, in the preceding edition, by making Mons. Renouard "superintend the gathering in of his VINTAGE," at his country-house (St. Valerie) whereas there are no Vineyards in Picardy. France and Wine seemed such synonymes, that I almost naturally attached a vineyard to every country villa.] [139] [It was published in 1820.] [140] "The luxurious English Bibliographer is astonished at the publication of the "Manuel" without the accompaniment of Plates, Fac-similes, Vignettes, and other graphic attractions. It is because _intrinsic merit_ is preferable to form and ornament: _that_ at once establishes its worth and its success." CRAPELET, vol. iv. p. 88. This amiable Translator and sharp-sighted Critic never loses an opportunity of a _fling_ at the "luxurious English Bibliographer!" [141] [My translator again brandishes his pen in order to draw _good-natured_ comparisons. "It would be lucky for him, if, to the qualities he possesses, M. Dibdin would unite those which he praises in M. Brunet: his work and the public would be considerable gainers by it: his books would not be so costly, and would be more profitable. The English Author describes nothing in a _sang-froid_ manner: he is for ever _charging_: and, as he does not want originality in his vivacity, he should seem to wish to be the CALLOT of Bibliography." CRAPELET. _Ibid_. I accept the title with all my heart.] [142] When he waited upon Lord Spencer at Paris, in 1819, and was shewn by his Lordship the _Ulric Han Juvenal_ (in the smallest character of the printer) and the _Horace_ of 1474, by _Arnoldus de Bruxella_, his voice, eyes, arms, and entire action ... gave manifest proofs how he FELT upon the occasion! [It only remains to dismiss this slight and inadequate account of so amiable and well-versed a bibliographer, with the ensuing-fac-simile of his autograph.] [Autograph: Brunet, Libraire, rue Gît-le-Couer, No 10.] [143] Chardin passe surtout parmi les amateurs Pour le plus vétilleux de tous les connaisseurs; Il fait naître, encourage, anime l'industrie; LES BEAUX LIVRES font seul le CHARME DE SA VIE. LA RELIURE, _poëme didactique_. Par LESNE'. 1820, 8vo. p. 31. [144] [This curiosity is now in the limited, but choice and curious, collection of my old and very worthy friend Mr. Joseph Haslewood. The handle of the stick is decorated by a bird's head, in ivory, which I conjectured to be that of an _Eagle_; but my friend insisted upon it that it was the head of an _Hawk_. I knew what this _meant_--and what it would _end_ in: especially when he grasped and brandished the Cane, as if he were convinced that the sculptor had anticipated the possession of it by the Editor of Juliana Barnes. It is whispered that my friend intends to surprise the ROXBURGHE CLUB (of which he is, in all respects a most efficient member) with proofs of an _Engraving_ of this charming little piece of old French carving.] [145] Mons. Chardin is since dead at a very advanced age. His mental faculties had deserted him a good while before his decease: and his decease was gentle and scarcely perceptible. The portrait of him, in the preceding edition of this work, is literally the MAN HIMSELF. M. Crapelet has appended one very silly, and one very rude, if not insulting, note, to my account of the deceased, which I will not gratify him by translating, or by quoting in its original words. [146] [A copy of the Horace UPON VELLUM (and I believe, the _only_ one) with the original drawings of Percier, will be sold in the library of Mr. Hibbert, during the present season.] [147] ["And unquestionably the best Letter Founder. His son, M. Amb. Firmin Didot; who has for a long time past cut the punches for his father, exhibits proof of a talent worthy, of his instructor." CRAPELET.] [148] [The translation of the above passage runs so smoothly and so evenly upon "all fours," that the curious reader may be gratified by its transcription: "On ne doit pas être surpris que le meilleur vin de Champagne et de Chambertin ait été servi sur la tablé de celui qui, au milieu des toasts de ses convives, avait pour accompagnement le bruit agréable. des frisquettes et des tympans de vingt-deux presses.".Vol. ii. 102.] [149] ["Would one not suppose that I had told M. Dibdin that it was impossible for the French to execute as fine plates as the English? If so, I should stand alone in that opinion. I only expatiated on the beauty of the wood-cut vignettes which adorn many volumes of the 4to. Shakspeare by Bulmer. (N.B. Mr. Bulmer never printed a Shakspeare in 4to. or with wood cuts; but Mr. Bensley _did_--in an 8vo. form.) Their execution is astonishing. Wood engraving, carried to such a pitch of excellence in England, is, in fact, very little advanced in France: and on this head I agree with M. Dibdin." CRAPELET, iv. 104.] [150] ["How can M. Dibdin forget the respect due to his readers, to give them a recital of dinners, partaken of at the houses of private persons, as if he were describing those of a tavern? How comes it that he was never conscious of the want of good taste and propriety of conduct, to put the individuals, of whom he was speaking, into a sort of dramatic form, and even the MISTTRESSES OF THE HOUSE! CRAPELET: Vol. iv. 106. I have given as unsparing a version as I could (against myself) in the preceding extract; but the _sting_ of the whole matter, as affecting M. Crapelet, may be drawn from the concluding words. And yet, where have I spoken ungraciously and uncourteously of Madame?] [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. It is now time to give you some idea of this curious collection. You ascend a lofty and commodious stone staircase (not very common in Paris) and stop at the _first_ floor:--another comfort, also very rare in Paris. This collection is contained in about half a dozen rooms: lofty, airy, and well furnished. The greater number of these rooms faces the Seine. The first contains a miscellaneous assemblage of bronze busts, and pictures of Teniers, Watteau, and of the more modern School of Paris. Of these, the Watteau is singular, rather than happy, from its size.[166] The two Teniers are light, thin, pictures; sketches of pigs and asses; but they are very covetable morsels of the artist.[167] In a corner, stands the skeleton of a female mummy in a glass case, of which the integuments are preserved in a basket. This is thought to be equally precious and uncommon. M. Denon shews the foot of the figure (which is mere bone and muscle) with amazing triumph and satisfaction. He thinks it is as fine as that of the Venus de Medicis, but there is no accounting for tastes. Among the busts is one of West, of Neckar, and of Denon himself: which latter I choose here to call "_Denon the First_." The second room contains a very surprising, collection of Phoenician, Egyptian, and other oriental curiosities: and in a corner, to the left, is a set of small drawers, filled with very interesting medals of eminent characters, of all descriptions, chiefly of the sixteenth century. Above them is a portrait of the owner of the collection--which I choose to call "_Denon the Second_." This room exhibits a very interesting mélange. Over the fire place are some busts; of which the most remarkable are those of _Petrarch_ and _Voltaire_; the former in bronze, the latter in terra-cotta; each of the size of life. Voltaire's bust strikes me as being the best representation of the original extant. It is full of character; a wonderful mixture of malignity, wit, and genius.[168] The third room is the largest, and the most splendidly hung with pictures. Of these, the circular little Guercino--a holy family--is, to my poor judgment, worth the whole.[169] The Rysdael and Both are very second rate. As you approach the fire-place, your attention is somewhat powerfully directed to a small bronze whole length figure of Buonaparte--leaning upon a table, with his right hand holding a compass, and his left resting upon his left thigh.[170] Some charts, with a pair of compasses, are upon the table; and I believe this represents him in his cabin, on his voyage to Egypt. Is there any representation of him, in the same situation, upon his _return_? However, it is an admirable piece of workmanship. In this room is also (if I remember rightly) the original colossal head of the ex-emperor, when a young man, in white marble, by CANOVA. But I must not omit informing you that here is also another portrait, in oil, of the owner of the collection--which, if you please, we will call "_Denon the Third_." You next enter a narrow, boudoir-shaped apartment, which contains, to my taste, the most curious and precious morsels of art which the Baron Denon possesses. They are specimens of the earlier schools of painting, commencing with what are called _Giottos_ and _Cimabues_--down to a very striking modern picture of a group of children, by a late French artist, just before the time of our Reynolds. This latter you would really conceive to have been the production of Sir Joshua himself. Of the specimens of the earlier schools, I was most struck with the head of PISANI, the inventor of medals--of the fifteenth century--painted by _Antonello da Messina_, a pupil of John Van Eyk. It is full of nature and of character. I could not get away from it. "Is it possible to obtain a copy of this picture?"--said I to its owner. "I understand you, (replied Denon) you wish to carry that copy to your own country. And to have it engraved there?" ... "Most unquestionably"--resumed I. "It is at your service (he rejoined); Laurent will copy it admirably." I hardly knew how to thank Mons. Denon sufficiently.[171] [Illustration: PISANI.] [Illustration: DENON.] There was another head ...but "non omnia possumus omnes." I mean, one of a female in profile, by MASACCIO. It was full of expression.[172] "What, (said its owner,) must you have an engraving of _that_ head also? It is bespoke; by myself. In short, every thing which you behold in these rooms (including even your favourite Pisani) will be _lithographised_ for the publication of my own collection." Of course, after this declaration, I was careful of what I did or said. "But there was yet _one_ thing in this collection--of which, as I saw such a variety, he could not refuse me a copy." "What might that be?" "A portrait of HIMSELF: from marble, from oil, or from enamel." "Take your choice: he replied: "faites ce que vous voulez,"--and it was agreed that M. Laguiche should make a drawing of the bust, in white marble, (I think the sculptor's name is Bosio) which is indeed very like him.[173] There is also a large and beautiful enamel of Denon, full dressed with all his orders, by Augustin; perhaps the most perfect specimen of that artist which France possesses. It is the work of several years past, when Denon had more flesh upon his cheek, and more fire in his eye. We may therefore say that this room contains "_Denon the Fourth, and Denon the Fifth_!" In the same room you observe a very complete specimen of a papyrus inscription; brought from Egypt. Indeed the curiosities brought from that country (as might naturally be supposed) are numerous and valuable. But my attention was directed to more _understandable_ objects of art. Opposite to the bust of Denon, is one of his late master, the ex-Emperor, in bronze: and above this latter, is a small picture, by _Lucas Cranach_, of a man with a bag of money tempting a young woman: full of character, and singularly striking. This room--or the one adjoining, I have forgotten which--contains M. Denon's collection of the prints of MARC ANTONIO or of REMBRANDT--or of both; a collection, which is said to be _unequalled_.[174] Whether the former be more precious than the latter, or whether both be superior to what our British Museum contains of the same masters, is a point which has not yet been fairly determined. But I asked, one morning, for a glimpse of the Rembrandts. We were alone; just after we had breakfasted together. M. Denon commenced by shewing me two different states of the _Coach Landscape_, and the two _great Coppinols_ with _white grounds_--each varying somewhat!!! "Enough," cried I--holding up both hands,--"you beat all in England and all in France!" From hence you pass into a fourth room, which is M. Denon's bed-chamber. About the fire-place are numerous little choice bits of the graphic art. Two small _Watteaus_, in particular, are perfectly delicious;[175] as well as a very small _Sebastian Bourdon_; of a holy family. In a corner, too much darkened, is a fine small portrait of _Parmegiano_ in profile: full of expression--and, to the best of my recollection, never engraved. These are, I think, the chief bijoux in the bed-room; except that I might notice some ancient little bronzes, and an enamel or two by Petitot. You now retrace your steps, and go into a fifth room, which has many fair good pictures, of a comparatively modern date; and where, if I mistake not, you observe at least _one_ portrait in oil of the master of the premises. This therefore gives us "_Denon the Seventh_!" It is here that the master chiefly sits: and he calls it his workshop. His drawers and port-folios are, I think, filled with prints and old-drawings: innumerable, and in the estimation of the owner, invaluable. You yet continue your route into a further room,-- somewhat bereft of furniture, or en dishabille. Here, among other prints, I was struck with seeing that of _the late Mr. Pitt_; from Edridge's small whole length. The story attached to it is rather singular. It was found on board the first naval prize (a frigate) which the French made during the late war; and the Captain begged Monsieur Denon's acceptance of it. Here were also, if I remember rightly, prints of Mr. Fox and Lord Nelson; but, as objects of _art_, I could not help looking with admiration--approaching to incredulity--upon three or four large prints, after Rembrandt and Paul Potter, which M. Denon assured me were the production of _his_ burin! I could scarcely believe it. Whatever be the merits of Denon, as a critical judge of art, ancient or modern, there is no person, not wholly blinded by prejudice, or soured by national antipathies, that can deny him great zeal, great talent, and great feeling ... in the several pursuits of art, of which his apartments furnish such splendid evidence. But, you may be disposed to add, "has this celebrated man no collection of Books?--no LIBRARY? At least he must have a _missal_ or two?" 'Tis even so, my friend. Library, he has none: for as "one swallow does not make a summer," so three or four pretty little illuminated volumes do not constitute a library. However, what he has of this kind, has been freely exhibited to me; and I here send you a transscript of some notes taken upon the spot. I was first shewn a small missal, prettily executed in a gothic type, of the Italian form, after the models of those of Jenson and Hailbrun. The calendar has the paintings injured. On the reverse of the last leaf of the Calendar, we read, in roman capitals, the following impressive annotation: DEUM TIME, PAUPERES SUSTINE, MEMENTO FINIS. On the reverse of the ensuing leaf, is a large head of Christ, highly coloured: but with the lower part of the face disproportionately short: not unlike a figure of a similar kind, in the Duke of Devonshire's Missal, described on a former occasion.[176] The crucifixon, on the next leaf but one, is full of spirit and effect. Then commence the _Drolleries_: or a series of subjects most whimsically conceived, but most sweetly touched and finished. You cannot imagine any thing more perfect of their kind and for their size, than are the beasts, birds, insects, fruits, and flowers. The vellum harmonises admirably, from its colour and quality. There are several comparatively large illuminations: some with very small figures; and two (one of St. John the Baptist, and the other of Christ mocked) are of great beauty in respect to force of colour. The initial capitals are executed with equal attention to taste in composition, and delicacy in colouring. This diminutive volume is only four inches high, by about two inches and three quarters wide. It is bound in red velvet, and mounted with silver knobs, with heads of cherubim upon them. It is fastened by a silver clasp; upon which is painted, and glazed, a head of Christ--of the time, as I conceive. M. Denon told me he bought this little gem of a bookseller in Italy, for 400 francs. He has another Missal, about half an inch wider and taller, in the binding of the time, with stamped ornaments. This exhibits flowers, fruits, and birds, in the margins; touched with great delicacy and truth. Some of the borders have a gold ground, shaded with brown, upon which the fruit is richly brought out in relief: others have human figures; and the border, encircling the temptation of our first Parents, has nothing superior to it--and is really worth an engraved fac-simile: but not in _lithography!_ It is on the forty-fifth leaf. One of the heads, in the border, is like that of our Edward VI. The third illuminated ms. volume, in M. Denon's possession, is probably the most valuable. It is a quarto, written in the Spanish language, and bearing the date of 1553. The scription is in red and black letters, alternately. This book contains several large illuminations, and coloured borders; and I was told, by its owner, that it was the _very book_ upon which the OATHS OF INITIATION INTO THE SPANISH INQUISITION were administered. Its condition is most perfect. The first large illumination represents a Saint, with his scull divided by a sword, and blood streaming copiously from him: a palm, with three crowns, is in his right hand; a book is in his left: at top we read "_Exsurge Domine, et judica Causam tuam_." The Saint is surrounded by a border of fruits and flowers. It is the principal embellishment in the volume. This book is in its original, black leather, stamped binding, with knobs and clasps. A marginal note thus remarks: "_ynoscan obligados asseruier cargome off^o. de ella salbo si de su voluntad loquisier en servi_." In my last visit to Denon,[177] I met with ANDRIEU; a name which reflects lustre upon the Fine Arts. As a medallist, he has no equal, nor perhaps ever had any, among the French. Our own SIMON enables us to oppose to him a rival of great and unquestionable talents; but we have slept soundly, both in the _medallic_ and _numismatic_ art, since the time of Cromwell: except that we were shook a little out of our slumbers during the reigns of Anne and George I. Andrieu has more of the pure Greek feeling about him, than Simon ever evinced: and prefers executing his _hair_ more in masses than in detail. He is therefore on this head, a copyist; but he transfuses into the countenance that soul and intelligence which we delight to contemplate, and which we are prompt to own, in the countenances upon Greek coins. The series of _Bonaparte-Medals_ are, almost entirely, I believe, the work of his hand. But _every_ head is _safe_ with Andrieu. He had just brought a medal of the present King (Louis XVIII.) to shew Denon. It was about the size of our half crown, in bronze. The countenance was in profile:--an admirable, and a very strong resemblance. The reverse was the equestrian statue of Henri IV., upon the Pont-Neuf.[178] Upon the whole, quite as good, as an effort of _art_, as what has been done for Bonaparte. The artist had well nigh succeeded in drawing me into a sort of half temptation to bespeak an impression of the medal _in gold_. "It was but a trifling sum--some twenty louis, or thereabouts. It would look so sharp and splendid in gold! and...." "I thank you much Sir, (replied I) but twenty louis will carry me almost to _Strasbourg_, whither I am to proceed in about a week or ten days." One thing I must add, much to his good sense and pure patriotic feeling:--he had been indirectly solicited to strike some medals, commemorative of the illustrious achievements of our WELLINGTON: but this he pointedly declined. "It was not, Sir, for _me_ to perpetuate the name of a man who had humbled the power, and the military glory, of my _own country_." Such was his remark to me. What is commendable in MUDIE,[179] would have been ill-timed, if not disgraceful, in Andrieu. Come with me, now, to a very different exhibition: to a unique collection, of its kind: to a collection, not frequently visited: as little known; but undoubtedly well deserving both of being often visited and described. It is of the _Collection of Paintings_ belonging to MR. QUINTIN CRAUFURD, living in the _Rue d'Anjou_, no. 21, that I am about to speak:--the fruits of a long residence (upwards of thirty years) in France; during the alternate commotions of republicanism and despotism. A letter of introduction procured me every facility of access to make repeated examinations of these treasures; and during my sojournings I fancied myself holding converse alternately with some of the grandees of the time of Francis I. and Louis XIV. Such a collection of _French portraits_--almost entirely of characters who have cut a figure in _history_--is no where else to be seen in Paris. In my estimation, it is beyond all price. Facing you, as you enter, stands--firmly upon his legs, and looking you manfully in the face--- the gallant and faithful _Comte De Brienne, Grand Master of the Ceremonies to Francis I. and Henry II._ A fine picture; and quite perfect.[180] To the left, is a charming whole length portrait, by _Velasquez_: a tender and exquisitely careful specimen of art. Of other whole lengths, but subordinately executed, you should notice one of _Christine, Duchesse de Savoie_, daughter of Henry II. and Catherine de Medicis; very curious, and in perfect preservation. There is a duplicate of this picture in the Louvre. A much more curious picture is a whole length, supposed to be of _Agnes Sorel_, mistress of Charles VII. One minute's reflection will correct this designation of the portrait. In the time of Agnes Sorel, portrait painting, in oil, was unknown--at least in France. The costume betrays the misnomer: for it is palpably not of the time of Agnes Sorel. Here is also a whole length of _Isabella, daughter of Philip II._ and Governess of the Low Countries. There are several small fancy pictures; among which I was chiefly, and indeed greatly struck, with a woman and two children by _Stella_. 'Tis a gem of its kind. [Illustration: COMTE DE BRIENNE, From an original Painting in the Collection of the late Quintin Crauford Esq. London, Published June 1829, by R. Jennings, Poultry.] Leaving this room, you turn, to the left--into a small room, but obscurely lighted. Here is a Virgin and Child, by _Sasso Ferrato_, that cannot be surpassed. There is a freedom of design, a crispness of touch, and a mellowness of colouring, in this picture, that render it a performance very much above the usual representations of this subject. In the same room is a spirited, but somewhat singular, picture of the _birth of Venus_. It exhibits the conception and touch of a master. The colouring is very sober. The name of the artist is not upon the frame, and as I was generally alone when I made my memoranda, I had no one to instruct me. You leave this room, and pass on--catching a glimpse of a lawn richly bedecked with flowers and shrubs--into a long and lofty room, which unites the two enviable distinctions of LIBRARY and GALLERY. Here you are bewildered for an instant: that is to say, you are divided in your attention between the admiration of the proportion and structure of the room, and the alternate captivation of books, busts, and pictures. But as you have had enough of _paper_ and _print_ in former despatches, I shall confine myself here exclusively to the _pencil_ and the _chisel_. Let us first walk leisurely about the ground floor, ere we mount the gallery. To begin with the busts. That of the late _Abbé Barthelemi_, in white marble, immediately strikes you.[181] It is full of nature and of character; and the hair has just enough of the antique gusto about it to render the toute ensemble equally classical and individualised--if you will allow this latter expression. Here is a terra-cotta head of _Corneille_, of very indifferent workmanship; and much inferior to a similar representation of him at Rouen. The terra-cotta head of _Rousseau_ is considerably better. But the marble bust of _Voltaire_, by Houdon, throws every thing about it into tameness. It is as fine as is the terra-cotta bust of the same person which Denon possesses. Here, however, the poet is in a peruque, or dress-wig. His eyes sparkle with animation. Every feature and every muscle seems to be in action: and yet it is perfectly free from caricature or affectation. A surprising performance. This head and that of Barthelemi are quite perfect of their kind. And yet I am not sure whether I should not have preferred the fine bronze bust of _Henri II._, somewhat larger than life, to either of the preceding. But I must not forget the colossal head of _Bonaparte_, when a young man, by Canova. It is of white marble: considered to be the original. Denon has a similar head, by the same artist. I am not sure if I do not prefer Mr. Craufurd's. Of paintings, on this floor, the head of _Francis I_. by Titian--(which may be called rather a finished sketch, and which is retouched in parts) is a very desirable performance; but it is inferior to the same head, by the same artist, in the Louvre. Here is a charming portrait of a Lady in the time of Louis XV., who chose to lead the life of a _Réligieuse_: sweetly and naturally touched. A fine portrait of _Grotius_ is also here; well deserving a conspicuous place in any cabinet of learning.[182] We will now walk up stairs to the gallery. Of course, in the confined space between the balustrade and the wainscot (not much more than three feet), it is barely possible to appreciate the full effect of the paintings; but I here send you a list of the greater part of them, with brief remarks, upon the general accuracy of which you may rely. _Madame Scarron_, with the _Duc du Maine_; apparently by Mignard: in a very fresh and perfect state. A fine head of _Racine_, and similar one of _De La Motte_. _Mademoiselle de Guiche, Princesse de Monaco_; in all probability by Mignard. Good. _Mademoiselle Hamilton, Comtesse de Grammont_; by Mignard. If the Comte de Grammont chose to fall in love only with beautiful women, he could scarcely, upon his own principles, (which indeed were any thing but moral) have found any one so lovely as was his WIFE. Yet I have seen handsomer portraits of her than this. _Anne de Gonzague_. She was Princess Palatine, and daughter of Charles Duke of Nevers. This is a half length portrait. A garland is in her right hand. A gay and pleasing picture. _Le Chancelier d'Aguesseau_. By Rigaud. A fine mellow portrait. _Louis XI_. A whole length; supposed to be by Leonardo da Vinci. Not very credible. It is a fine, bold, horribly-looking portrait: not in the very best state of preservation. _Blaise Pascal_. Very fine. The artist's name is not inscribed; but there is a Murillo-like effect about this portrait, which is very striking. Pascal holds a letter in his hand. Next to Pascal is a prodigiously fine oval portrait (is it of _Fontaine_?) by Rigaud. No name is subjoined. _Comtesse de la Fayette_. A fine countenance: hands apparently recoloured. In yellow drapery. _Julie-Lucie d'Augennes, Duchesse de Montausier._ She died in 1671. The portrait is by Mignard. It represents this celebrated female, when young, _encadred_ by flowers. The carnation tints of the flesh, and the blue lustre of the eye, have nothing finer in the whole circle of Mignard's performances. This is a picture from which the eye is withdrawn with no common reluctance. It is clear, bright, fresh, and speaking.[183] The _Wife of P. de Champagne_. She holds a small oval portrait of the mother of her husband, the famous painter, in her lap. The picture is by P. de Champagne himself. The head of the mother is very clever: but the flesh has perhaps too predominant a tint of pinkish-purple throughout. _Madame de la Sabliere_. Oval: very clever. _Madame Deshoulieres_. Similar, in both repects. _Madame Cornuel_. Oval: a stiff performance. _Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans_. She is represented as Hebe. A pretty picture; but a little too much "frenchified." _Madame de Staal_. Oval. Beautiful and perfect. _Madame la Marquise de Rambouillet_. A° 1646. A most beautiful picture. The head and shoulders are worthy of Vandyke. The curtain, in the background, is flowered; and perhaps too hard. _Madame la Duchesse de la Valliere, mère du dernier duc de ce nom_. She was the mother of the Duke de la Valliere who had the celebrated library; and died in 1782, within three months of reaching her hundredth year! She was an old woman, but yet very handsome, when this portrait was painted. Her colour is yet tender, and her features are small and regular. The eyes have unusual intelligence, for so protracted a period of life. It is a half length, and I should think by Rigaud. She is sitting in a chair, holding a tea spoon in her right hand, and a tea cup in her left. This may have some allusion, of which I am ignorant. The whole picture is full of nature, and in a fine tone of colour. The _Duke of Monmouth_. He is sitting: holding a truncheon in his right hand. A helmet and plume are before him. He wears a white sash. This is a dark, but may be called a finely painted, picture. Yet the Duke is not represented as a handsome man. _Turenne_. By P. de Champagne. Fine. _Bossuet_. By Rigaud. This is not only considered as the chef-d'oeuvre of Rigaud, but it has been pronounced to be the finest portrait ever executed within the last century of the French School.[184] It is a whole length; and is well known to you from the wonderful print of it by Drevet. The representation is worthy of the original; for Bossuet was one of the last of the really great men of France. He had a fine capacity and fine scholarship: and was as adroit in polemics as Richelieu was in politics. He resembled somewhat our Horsley in his pulpit eloquence,--and was almost as pugnacious and overbearing in controversy. He excelled in quickness of perception, strength of argument, and vehemence of invective; yet his sermons are gradually becoming neglected--while those of Fenelon, Massillon, and Saurin are constantly resorted to ... for the fine taste, pure feeling, and Christianlike consolation which breathe throughout them. One thing, in this fine whole length portrait of Bossuet, cannot fail to be noticed by the curious. The head seems to have been separately painted, on a small square piece of canvass, and _let into_ the picture. There is certainly a _rifacimento_ of some kind or other; which should denote the head to have been twice painted. _C. Paulin_. By Champagne. Paulin was first confessor to Louis XIV.; and had therefore, I should apprehend, enough upon his hands. This is a fine portrait. _William III_. Harsh and stiff. It is a performance (as most of those of William seem to be) for the model of a head of a ship. _Colbert, Evéque de Montpellier_. A fine head. _Fléchier, Evéque de Nismes_. A very fine portrait. The name of the painter does not appear. A fine half length portrait of a _Marshal of France_, with a truncheon in his hand. Both the hands are beautifully drawn and coloured. _Maréchal duc d'Harcourt_. By Rigaud. _Eliz. Angelique de Montmorenci, Duchesse de Chatillon_. She died in 1695 in her 69th year. This is a fine picture, but injured and retouched. The left hand rests upon a lion's head. _F. Marie de Bourbon, fille de Madame de Montespan, et femme du Régent_. A stiffish picture; but the countenance is pleasing. _Madame la Duchesse de Névers, fille de Madame de Thianges, et nièce de Madame de Montespan_. A bow is in her right hand, and a dog in her left. The countenance is beautiful and well painted. The eyes and mouth in particular have great sweetness of expression. _Duc de Montausier_; in a hat and red feather. By Rigaud. _Madame la Duchesse de Sforce: fille cadette de Madame de Thianges_. A small whole length, sitting: with two greyhounds in her lap, and a third at her side. _Le Ministre Colbert_. By Mignard. A fine picture.[185] _Marie Leezinska, femme de Louis XV_. A cleverly painted head. _Le Cardinal Mazarin_. By P. de Champagne. Whole length. A fine portrait-- which I never contemplate without thinking of the poor unfortunate "man in an iron mask!" _Madame de Motteville_. She died in her 74th year, in 1689. This is merely the head and shoulders; but in the Vandyke style of execution. _Charles Paris d'Orleans, dernier Duc de Longueville._ He was killed in the famous passage of the Rhine, at Tolhuys, in 1672. _Charles I_. By Vandyke. A beautiful half length portrait. Perhaps too highly varnished. _Le Marquis de Cinq-Mars_. He was beheaded at the age of twenty-two, in September 1642. There is also a whole length of him, in a rich, white, flowered dress. A genuine and interesting picture. _Mary Queen of Scots_. Whole length: in a white dress. A copy; or, if an old picture, repainted all over. _Don Carlos_, the unfortunate son of Philip II. of Spain. A beautiful youth; but this picture, alleged to have been painted by Alfonso Sanchez Coello, must be a copy. The foregoing are the principal decorations along the gallery of this handsome and interesting room. In an adjoining closet, where were once two or three portraits of Bonaparte, is a beautiful and highly finished small whole length of _Philip Duke of Orleans_, Regent of France. Also a whole length of _Marmontel_, sitting; executed in crayon. The curiously carved frame, in a brown-coloured wood, in which this latter drawing is contained, is justly an object of admiration with visitors. I have scarcely seen a more appropriate ornament, for a choice cabinet, than this estimable portrait of Marmontel. Here are portraits of _Neckar_, and _Clement Marot_, in crayons: the latter a copy. Here is, too, a cleverly painted portrait of _L. de Boulogne_. We descend--to a fourth room, or rather to a richly furnished cabinet-- below stairs. Every thing here is "en petit." Whether whole lengths, or half lengths, they are representations in miniature. What is this singular portrait, which strikes one to the left, on entering? Can it be so? Yes ... DIANE DE POICTIERS again! She yet lives every where in France. 'Tis a strange performance; but I have no hesitation in calling it AN ORIGINAL ... although in parts it has been palpably retouched. But the features--and especially the eyes--(those "glasses of the soul," as old Boiastuau calls them[186]) seem to retain their former lustre and expression. This highly curious portrait is a half length, measuring only ten inches by about eight. It represents the original without any drapery, except a crimson mantle thrown over her back. She is leaning upon her left arm, which is supported by a bank. A sort of tiara is upon her head. Her hair is braided. Above her, within a frame, is the following inscription, in capital roman letters: "_Comme le Cerf brait après le décours des Eaues; ainsi brait mon Ame, après Toy, ô Dieu_." Ps. XLII. Upon the whole, this is perhaps the most legitimate representation of the original which France possesses.[187] In the same boudoir is a small and beautifully coloured head of _Francis I._ Here is a portrait of the famous _Duchess of Portsmouth_, on horseback, in red; and another of the _Duchess of Nevers_, in a blue riding jacket. But much more estimable, and highly to be prized--as works of art--- are the TWO MURILLOS: one, apparently of St. Francis, which was always religiously preserved in the bed-chamber of Madame de Maintenon, having been given to her by Louis XIV. The other, although fine, has less general interest. I could hardly sufficiently admire the whole length of _Jacques Callot_, painted by himself. It is delicious, of its kind. There is a very curious and probably coeval picture representing whole length portraits of the _Cardinals of Guise and Lorraine_, and the _Dukes of Guise and Mayenne_,[188] The figures are very small, but appear to be faithful representations. An old portrait of _Louis Roi de Sicile, Père de Réné_,--a small head, supposed to be of the fifteenth century--is sufficiently singular, but I take this to be a copy. Yet the likeness may be correct. A whole length of _Washington_, with a black servant holding his horse, did not escape my attention. Nor, as an antiquary, could I refuse bestowing several minutes attention upon the curious old portrait (supposed to be by _Jean de Bruges_) of _Charlotte, Wife of Louis XI._ It is much in the style of the old illuminations. In one of the lower rooms, I forget which, is a portrait of Bonaparte; the upper part of the same representation of him which appeared in London from the pencil of David. He is placed by the side of a portrait (of the same dimensions) of his conqueror, Wellington: but I am not much disposed to admire the style of execution of our hero. It is a stiff, formal, and severely executed picture. Assuredly the present school of French portrait painters is most egregiously defective in expression; while ours, since the days of Reynolds, has maintained a most decided superiority. I believe I have now noticed every thing that is more particularly deserving of attention in the Collection of Mr. Quintin Craufurd ... But I cannot retrace my steps without again expressing my admiration of the _local_ of this little domain. The garden, offices, and neighbourhood render it one of the most desirable residences in Paris.[189] As I happen to be just now in the humour for gossiping about the fine arts, suppose I take you with me to the collection of paintings of the MARQUIS DE SOMMARIVA, in the _Rue du Bas Rempart_? It is among the most distinguished, and the most celebrated, in Paris; but I should say it is rather eminent for sculpture than for painting. It is here that Canova reigns without a rival. The early acquaintance and long tried friend of the Marquis, that unrivalled sculptor has deposited here what he considers to be the _chef-d'oeuvre_ of his art, as a single figure. Of course, I speak of his _Magdalen_. But let me be methodical. The open day for the inspection of his treasures is _Friday_. When I entered, not a creature was in the rooms. The general effect was splendid and imposing. I took out my memorandum-book, and went directly to work; noticing only those subjects which appeared, on one account or other, to be more particularly deserving of attention. There is a pretty picture of CUPID AND PSYCHE, by _Carlo Cignani_; the simple and quiet effect of which is much heightened by being contrasted with the very worst representation of the _same subject_, which I ever saw, by _David_: painted last year at Brussels. How the Marquis can afford so many square yards of his walls for the reception of such a performance, is almost marvellous. It is, throughout, in the worst possible taste. The countenance of Cupid, who is sitting on the bed or couch with the vacant grin of an ideot, is that of a negro. It is dark, and of an utterly inane expression. The colouring is also too ruddy throughout. Near to this really heartless picture, is one of a woman flying; well drawn, and rather tenderly coloured. Opposite, is a picture of Venus supported in the air by a group of Cupids. The artist is _Prudhon_. In the general glare of colour, which distinguishes the French school, it is absolutely refreshing to have the eye soothed by something like an attempt, as in this picture, at a mellow chiaro-oscuro. It has undoubted merit. It is, upon the whole, finely coloured; but the countenance of Venus is so pale as to have an almost deathly effect. It is intended to represent her as snatched away from the sight of her dead Adonis. In common courtesy I must make but brief mention of a very clumsy, and ill-drawn child, by De Broisefremont: and hasten, in the next room, to the magnificent picture of _Diana and Endymion_, painted by Guerin in 1810, and lately engraved. This picture is a very fair illustration of the merits and demerits of the FRENCH SCHOOL OF PAINTING. The drawing of Endymion is, upon the whole, good; but a palpable copy of the antique. This necessarily gives it somewhat an air of affectation. The shepherd lies upon a bed of clouds, (terminated by an horizon which is warmed by the rays of a setting sun) very gracefully and perhaps naturally. He seems to sleep soundly. His whole figure and countenance glow with the warmth of beauty and youth. I will not disturb his slumbers by finding the least fault--even with the disposition of the extremities. But his nightly visitor--the enamoured goddess--is, of all female figures which I have ever seen upon canvass, one of the most affected, meagre, and uninteresting. Diana has been exchanged for an opera dancer. The waist is pinched in, the attitude is full of conceit, and there is a dark shadow about the neck, as if she had been trying some previous experiment with a _rope_! Endymion could never open his eyes to gaze upon a figure so utterly unworthy of the representation of an enamoured deity.[190] The Cupids must also be condemned; for they are poor in form, and indifferent in execution. The back ground has considerable merit: but I fear the picture is too highly glazed. In this room also is the famous picture of _Belisarius_, engraved with so much éclat by Desnoyers. I own that I like the engraving better than the painting; for I see no occasion for such a disproportionate quantity of warm colouring as this picture exhibits. Pope (in his Epistle to Jarvis, I think) says of artists, that, "to paint the naked is their dear delight." No artists ever delighted so much in this branch of painting as the French. Does not this taste argue a want--not only of respect, but--of _feeling?_ It was therefore pleasing to me, my dear friend, to turn my attention from the studied display of naked goddesses, in the collection of the worthy Marquis of Sommariva, towards objects a little more qualified to gratify the higher feelings connected with art:--and the first thing which soothed me, when I _had_ so turned my attention, was, the _Terpsichore_ of _Canova_. You know it from the print by Morghen. The countenance, to my eye, is the perfection of female beauty:--yet it is a countenance which seems to be the abstract--the result of study, and of combination--rather than of beauty, as seen "in mortal race which walks the earth." The drapery appears to be studiously neglected--giving it the appearance of the antique, which had been battered and bruised by the casualties of some two thousand years. By this, I mean that the folds are not only numerous, but the intermediate parts are not marked by that degree of precision and finish, which, in my opinion, they ought to have received. Yet the whole has an enchantingly simple air: at once classical, pure, and impressive. The Marquis has indeed great reason to be proud of it. But if I pat the right cheek of Canova with one hand, I must cuff his left cheek with the other. Here is a Cupid by him, executed in 1787. It is evidently the production of a mind not ripened to its fullest powers. In other words, I should call it "a poor, flat thing." We approach the far-famed MAGDALEN. Immediately opposite the boudoir, where the last mentioned treasures are deposited, you observe a door, or aperture, half covered with silken drapery of a greyish brown tint. There was something mysterious in the appearance, and equally so in the approach. I had no intimation of what it led to; for, as I told you, not a creature besides myself was in the rooms. With a gently raised hand I drew the drapery aside, entered ... and looked before me. There stood the MAGDALEN. There she was, (more correctly speaking) kneeling; in anguish and wretchedness of soul--her head hanging down--contemplating a scull and cross, which were supported by her knees. Her dishevelled hair flowed profusely over her back and shoulders. Her cheeks were sunk. Her eyes were hollow. Her attitude was lowly and submissive. You could not look at her without feeling pity and compassion. Such, in few words, is the Magdalen of Canova. For the first five minutes I was lost in surprise and admiration. The windows are hid by white curtains; and the interior is hung all over with the same grey silk drapery, before noticed. A glass, placed behind the figure, affords you a view of the back while you are contemplating the front. This is very ingenious; but it is probably too artificial. The effect of the room, however--from the silken drapery with which it is entirely covered--is, although studied, upon the whole excellent. Of course the minutes flew away quickly in such a place, and before such an object; and I think I viewed the figure, in every possible direction, for full three quarters of an hour. The result of that view--after the first feelings of admiration had subsided--I proceeded forthwith to impart: and shall be most happy to be set right if I have erred, in the conclusion which I draw. In truth, there can be only one or two little supposed impeachments of the artist's judgment, in the contemplation of this extraordinary figure. The Magdalen has probably too much of the abject expression of _mendicity_ in her attitude; and, for a creature thus poor and prostrate, one is surprised to find her gazing upon a _golden_ cross. It is a piece of finery ill placed in the midst of such wretchedness. But Canova is fond of gilt; yet what is appropriate in _Hebe_ may be discordant in the _Magdalen_. This penitent creature, here so touchingly expressed, is deeply wrapped in meditation upon her crucified Master. She has forsaken the world ... to follow the cross!--but surely this idea would have been more powerfully expressed, if the cross had _not_ been _visible_?. Was this object necessary to tell the tale?--or, rather, did not the sculptor deem it necessary to _balance_ (as is called) the figure? Nor am I over well satisfied with the scull. It is common-place. At any rate, if scull and cross must be there, I wish the cross had been simply of stone--as is the scull. My next objection relates to a somewhat more important point. I think the _face_ and _figure_ do not seem to belong to the _same_ human being: the former is shrunken, ghastly, and indicative of extreme constitutional debility: the latter is plump, well formed, and bespeaks a subject in the enjoyment of full health. Can such an union, therefore, be quite correct? In the different views of this figure, especially in profile, or behind, you cannot fail to be struck with the general beauty of the form; but this beauty arises from its fulness and just proportion. In gazing upon it, in front, you are pained by the view of a countenance shrunk almost to emaciation! Can this be in nature? And do not mental affliction and bodily debility generally go together? The old painters, even as far back as the time of illuminators of books, used to represent the Magdalen as plump, even to fatness,--and stout in all respects; but her _countenance_ usually partook of this vigour of stamina. It was full, rosy, and healthful. The older artists sometimes placed the Magdalen in a very awkward, and perhaps impossible, situation; and she was even made to be buried up to the bosom in earth--still exercising her devotions. Canova has doubtless displayed great pathos in the wretched aspect, and humiliated attitude, of his Magdalen; but he has, at the same time, not been inattentive to beauty of form. I only wish she appeared to be in as good condition as the _torso_ indicates. A fastidious observer might say the figure was not _quite balanced_, and that she must fall backward--if she retained such an attitude for a quarter of an hour. But this is hyper-criticism. The date of the execution of this figure is 1796: and parts of it clearly indicate that, if the sculptor were now to re-execute it, he would have paid even yet more attention to the finishing of the hair. Upon the whole, however, it is a masterly effort of modern art. It is almost fixed that we leave Paris within a week or ten days from hence:--and then, for green fields, yellow corn, running streams, ripened fruit, and all the rural evidences of a matured summer. [164] It was translated into English, and published in this country on a reduced scale, both as to text and engravings--but a reprint of it, with a folio volume of plates, &c. had appeared also in 1802. At the time, few publications had such a run; or received a commendation, not more unqualified than it was just. See an account of this work in the _Library Companion_, p. 442. edit. 1824. [165] [M. Denon DIED in 1825, aged 78. The sale of his _Marbles, Bronzes, Pictures, Engravings, &c._ took place in 1826.] [166] [It was sold at the sale of M. Denon's pictures for 650 francs, and is numbered 187 in the Catalogue.] [167] [One of these pictures brought 1,400, and the other 220 francs: prices, infinitely below their real worth. They should have been sold HERE!] [168] [M. Crapelet says--this bust was modelled after the life by PIGALLE: and was, in turn, the model of that belonging to the figure of Voltaire in the library of the Institute: see p. 195 ante.] [169] [The result--judging from the comparative prices obtained at the sale--has confirmed the propriety of my predilection. It brought 5000 francs. In the sale catalogue, is the following observation attached: "On admire dans ce précieux tableau de chevalet la facilité surprenante de pinceau et cette harmonic parfaite de couleur qui faisaient dire au Tiarini, peintre contemporain, "Seigneur Guerchin, vous faites ce que vous voulez, et nous autres ce que nous pouvons." No. 14.] [170] ["This figure was cast from a model made by Montoni in 1809. There were ONLY six copies of it, of which four were in _bronze_ and two in _silver_." _Cat._ No. 717. I have not been able to learn the price for which it was sold.] [171] The OPPOSITE PLATE will best attest the truth of the above remark. It exhibits a specimen of that precise period of art, when a taste for the gothic was beginning somewhat to subside. The countenance is yet hard and severely marked; but the expression is easy and natural, and the _likeness_ I should conceive to be perfect. As such, the picture is invaluable. [So far in the preceding edition. The sequel is a little mortifying. The above picture, an undoubted _original_--and by a master (the supposed pupil of John Van Eyk) who introduced the art of oil-painting into Italy--was sold for only 162 francs: whereas the _copy_ of it, in oil, by Laurent, executed expressly for the accompanying plate (and executed with great skill and fidelity) cost 400 francs!] [172] [What a taste have the Virtuosi at Paris! This interesting picture was allowed to be sold for 162 francs only. Who is its fortunate Possessor?] [173] [The OPPOSITE PLATE, which exhibits the head in question, is a sufficient confirmation of the above remark.] [174] [First, of the MARC ANTONIOS. Since the sale of the _Silvestre_ Collection, in 1810, nothing had been seen at Paris like that of M. Denon. It was begun to be formed in the eighteenth century: from which it is clear, that, not only was every proof at least an hundred years old, but, at that period, ZANETTI, the previous possessor of this Collection, sought far and wide, and with unremitting diligence, for the acquisition of the choicest impressions of the engraver. In fact, this Collection, (contained in an imperial folio volume, bound in morocco--and of which I necessarily took but a hasty glance) consisted of 117 _original_ impressions, and of 26 of such as were executed in the _school_ of M. Antonio. Of the original impressions, the whole, with the exception of four only, belonged to Zanetti. "If, says the compiler of the Catalogue, (1826, 8vo. p. ij.) some of the impressions have a dingy tint, from the casualties of time, none have been washed, cleaned, or passed through chemical experiments to give them a treacherous look of cleanliness." This is sound orthodoxy. The whole was put up in one lot, and ... BOUGHT IN. Secondly, for the REMBRANDTS. The like had never been before submitted to public auction. The Collections of _Silvestre_ and _Morel de Vindé_ out and out eclipsed! _Zanetti_ again--the incomparable--the felicitous--the unrivalled Zanetti had been the possessor of THIS Collection also. But yet more ... John Peter Zoomer, a contemporary (and peradventure a boon companion) of Rembrandt, was the original former of the Collection. It is therefore announced as being COMPLETE in all respects--"exhibiting all the changes, retouches, beautiful proofs, on India and other paper: ample margins, unstained, uninjured; and the impressions themselves, in every stage, bright, rich, and perfect. The result of all the trouble and expence of 50 years toil of collection is concentrated in this Collection." So says John Peter Zoomer, the original collector and contemporary of Rembrandt. It consisted of 394 original pieces: 3, attributed to Rembrandt, without his name: 11, of John Lievens, Ferdinand Bol, and J.G. Villet: 11 copies: and 9 engraved in the manner of Rembrandt. The whole contained in 3 large folio volumes, bound in red morocco. No reasonable man will expect even a précis of the treasures of this marvellous Collection: A glance of the text will justify every thing to follow: but the "Advertisement" to the Catalogue prepares the purchaser for the portrait of _Rembrandt with the bordered cloak_-- Ditto, _with the Sabre--Ephraim Bonus_ with the _black ring_--the _Coppinol_, as above described--the _Advocate Tolling_--the _Annunciation of Christ's Nativity to the Shepherds--the _Resurrection of Lazarus--Christ healing the Sick_; called the _Hundred Guilders_[H]--the _Astrologer asleep_--and several _Landscapes_ not elsewhere to be found--of which one, called the _Fishermen_ (No. 456) had escaped Bartsch, &c. &c. The descriptions of the several articles of which this Collection was composed, occupy 47 pages of the Catalogue. The three volumes were put up to sale--as a SINGLE LOT--at the price of 50,000 francs:--and there was _no purchaser_. Of its present destiny, I am ignorant: but there are those in this country, who, to my knowledge, would have given 35,000 francs. I ought to add, that M. Denon's collection of CALLOT'S WORKS, in three large folio volumes,--bound in calf--also once the property of Zanetti--and than which a finer set is supposed never to have been exhibited for sale--produced 1000 francs: certainly a moderate sum, if what Zanetti here says of it (in a letter to his friend Gaburri, of the date of 1726) be true. "If ever you do this country (Venice) the honour of a visit, you will see in my little cabinet a collection of CALLOTS, such as you will not see elsewhere--not in the royal collection at Paris, nor in the Prince Eugene's, at Vienna--where the finest and rarest impressions are supposed to be collected. I possess _every_ impression of the plates which Callot executed; many of them containing first proofs, retouched and corrected by the engraver himself in red chalk. I bought this Collection at Paris, and it cost me 1950 francs. They say it was formed by the engraver himself for his friend M. Gérard an Amateur of Prints." "It should seem that Zanetti's description was a little overcharged; but in _his_ time there was no complete catalogue of the artists." Cat. p. 153. [H] It formed No. 345 of the Catalogue; where it is described as being "a magnificent proof upon India paper, with a margin of 15 lines all round it. It was with the bur, and before the cross-hatchings upon the mane of the Ass." The finest copy of this subject, sold in this country, was that formerly in the collection of M. Bernard; and recently purchased by T. Wilson, Esq. Will the reader object to disporting himself with some REMBRANDTIANA, in the _Bibliomania_ p. 680-2.? [175] One of those pictures (No. 188 in the Catalogue) produced 3015 francs: the other, only 180 francs. The Sebastian Bourdon (No. 139,) was sold for 67 francs, and the Parmegiano, (No. 34) for 288 francs. [176] See the _Bibliographical Decameron_; vol. i. p. clvii. &c. [M. Denon's Missal was purchased by an English amateur, and sold at the sale of the Rev. Theodore Williams's Library for £143. 17s.] [177] [Ere we take leave of this distinguished Frenchman, let us dwell for two seconds on his autograph. [Autograph: Denon] [178] There has been recently struck (I think, in 1819) a medal with the same obverse and reverse, of about the size between an English farthing and halfpenny. The statue of Henry is perhaps the MIRACLE OF ART: but it requires a microscopic glass to appreciate its wonders. Correctly speaking, probably, such efforts are not in the purest good taste. Simplicity is the soul of numismatic beauty. [179] The Artist who struck the series of medals to commemorate the campaigns of the Duke of Wellington, from his landing in Portugal to the battle of Waterloo. [180] [See the OPPOSITE PLATE, which represents the upper part of the Picture.] [181] [I sent a commission for it, for a friend, at the sale of Mr. Craufurd's effects, but lost it.] [182] [Purchased by myself: and now at Hodnet.] [183] [This picture was purchased for the gallery at ALTHORP. There is an exquisite drawing of it by Wright, for the purpose of a stipling engraving.] [184] It was purchased by the late King of France for 10,000 francs. [185] [Purchased for the gallery at ALTHORP.] [186] The above quotation is incomplete; for the passage alluded to runs thus.--"Where is the painter so well sorting his colours, that could paint these faire eyes that are the _windows of the body, and glasses of the soul_." The continuation is in a very picturesque style. See the _Theatre or Rule of the World_, p. 236-7, quoted in a recent (1808) edition of _More's Utopia_, vol. ii. p. 143. But _Primaudaye's French Academy_, Lond. 1605, 4to. runs very much in the same strain. [187] A little graphic history belongs to this picture. I obtained a most beautiful and accurate copy of it by M. Le Coeuré, on a reduced scale: from which Mr. J. Thomson made an Engraving, as a PRIVATE PLATE, and only 75 copies were struck off. The plate was then destroyed; the impressions selling for a guinea. They are now so rare as to be worth treble that sum: and proofs upon India paper, before the letter, may be worth £5. 5s. Three proofs only were struck off of the plate in its _mutilated_ state; of which my friends Mr. Haslewood and Mr. G. H. Freeling rejoice in their possession of a copy. The drawing, by Coeuré, was sold for 20 guineas at the sale of my drawings, by Mr. Evans, in 1822, but it has been subsequently sold for only _nine_ guineas; and of which my worthy friend A. Nicholson, Esq.--"a good man, and a true"--is in the possession. Subsequently, the ABOVE ORIGINAL picture was sold; and I was too happy to procure it for the gallery at Althorp for _twelve_ guineas only! [188] [A magnificent whole length portrait of this first DUKE DE GUISE, painted by PORBUS--with a warmth and vigour of touch, throughout, which are not unworthy of Titian--now adorns the very fine gallery at Althorp: where is also a whole length portrait of ANNE OF AUSTRIA, by Mignard. Both pictures are from the same Collection; and are each probably the masterpiece of the artist. They are of the size of life.] [189] [Mr. Craufurd died at Paris in 1821.] [190] ["Amateurs, connaisseurs, examinateurs, auteurs de revues du Salon, parodistes même, vous n'entendez rien à ce genre de critique; prenez M. Dibdin pour modèle: voila' la _bonne école_!" CHAPELET, vol. iv. p. 200. My translator shall here have the full benefit of his own bombastical nonsense.] _LETTER XI._ NOTICE OF M. WILLEMIN'S MONUMENS FRANÇAIS INÉDITS. MISCELLANEOUS ANTIQUITIES. PRESENT STATE OF THE FINE ARTS. GENERAL OBSERVATIONS UPON THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. _July 8, 1818_. I rejoice that it is in my power once more--and certainly for the last time, from hence--to address you upon a few subjects, which, from your earlier replies to my Paris letters, you seem to think that I have lost sight of. These subjects, relate chiefly to ANTIQUITIES. Be assured that I have never, for one moment, been indifferent to them; but in the vast bibliographical field which the public libraries of this place held out for my perambulation, it was impossible, in the first instance, not to take advantage of the curious, and probably useful information, to be derived from thence. I must begin therefore by telling you that I had often heard of the unassuming and assiduous author of the _Monumens Français Inédits_, and was resolved to pay him a visit. I found him in the _Rue Babile_ towards the eastern end of the Rue St. Honoré, living on the third floor. Several young females were in the ante-room, colouring the plates of that work; which are chiefly in outline and in aqua-tint. Each livraison contains six plates, at twelve francs the livraison. The form is folio, and about twenty-eight numbers are printed.[191] There is something in them of every thing: furniture, dresses, houses, castles, churches, stained glass, paintings, and sculpture. Illuminated MSS. are as freely laid under contribution as are the outsides and insides of buildings, of whatsoever description. Indeed I hardly ever visited the Public Library without finding M. Willemin busied, with his pencil and tracing paper, with some ancient illuminated MS. The style of art in the publication here noticed, is, upon the whole, feeble; but as the price of the work is moderate, no purchaser can reasonably complain. The variety and quantity of the embellishments will always render M. Willemin's work an acceptable inmate in every well-chosen library. I recommend it to you strongly; premising, that the author professedly discards all pretension to profound or very critical antiquarian learning. For himself, M. Willemin is among the most enthusiastic, but most modest, of his antiquarian brethren. He has seen better days. His abode and manners afford evidence that he was once surrounded by comparative affluence and respectability. A picture of his deceased wife hung over the chimney-piece. The back-ground evinced a gaily furnished apartment. "Yes, Sir, (said M.W.--on observing that I noticed it) such was _once_ my room, and its _chief ornament_"--Of course I construed the latter to be his late wife. "Alas! (resumed he) in better days, I had six splendid cabinets filled with curiosities. I have now--not a single one! Such is life." He admitted that his publication brought him a very trifling profit; and that, out of his own country, he considered the _London_ market as the most advantageous to him. A large broken phial, containing water and a fleur-de-lis in full bloom, was the only, ornament of his mantle piece. "Have you no curiosities of any kind--(said I to him) for sale?" "None--" replied he; but he had _drawings_ of a few. "Have the kindness to shew me some of these drawings"--and forthwith appeared the case and _pocket-knife of Diane de Poictiers_, drawn from the original by Langlois. "Where is the original?" observed I, hastily. "Ha, Sir, you are not singular in your question. A nobleman of your country was almost losing his wits because he could not purchase it:--and yet, this original was once to be obtained for _twenty louis_!" I confess I was glad to obtain the drawing of Langlois for two napoleons. It is minutely and prettily executed, and apparently with great fidelity. M. Willemin proceeded to shew me a few more drawings for his national work, telling me precisely what he _meant_, and what he did _not_ mean, to publish. His own drawings with a pen are, some of them, of a masterly execution; and although of a less brilliant and less classical style than those of LE NOIR, M. Willemin is still an artist of whom his country will always have reason to be proud. I bought several drawings of him.[192] One represents the sculptured figures upon the outside of the _grand portal_ of the _Cathedral of Chartres._ These figures seem to be of the thirteenth century. The other drawing is of a rich piece of _fayence_, or of painted and glazed earthenware dish, and about the middle of the sixteenth century: of which I remember to have seen some very curious specimens at Denon's. But nothing can be more singular, and at the same time more beautiful of its kind, than the present specimen--supposed to be the work of the famous Bernard Palissy. Paris is full of such treasures. Of all cities, PARIS is probably that which abounds with rich and curious relics of ancient art. Its churches, its palaces, its public buildings-- sometimes grotesque and sometimes magnificent--furnish alike subjects for admiration and materials for collection. But the genius of the French does not lie in this pursuit. From the commencement of the sixteenth century, the ANTIQUITIES OF PARIS might have supplied a critical antiquary with matter for a publication which could have been second only to the immortal work of Piranesi. But with the exception of Montfaucon, (which I admit to be a most splendid exception) and recently of MILLIN and LE NOIR, France hardly boasts of an indigenous Antiquary. In our own country, we have good reason to be proud of this department of literature. The names of Leland, Camden, Cotton, Dugdale, Gibson, Tanner, Gough, and Lysons, place us even upon a level with the antiquarians of Italy. It was only the other day that M. Willemin was urging me, on my return to England, to take _Beauvais_ in my way, in order to pay a visit to Madame la Comtesse de G., living at a chateau about three leagues from that place. She possesses a collection of carved wood, in bas-reliefs, porches, stair-cases, &c. all from a neighbouring dilapidated abbey; and, among other things, one singular piece of sculpture, descriptive of the temptation of St Anthony. He had reason to think that the Countess might be more successfully tempted than was the Saint just mentioned; in other words, that these things were to be had rather for "money" than for "love." For specimens of the costume of the lower classes, the _south_ side of the Seine must be chiefly visited. The great streets which lead thither are those of _St. Victor, St. Jaques_, and _De La Harpe_. Mr. Lewis had frequently strolled to this quarter of Paris; and his attention was one morning particularly directed to a group of _Blanchisseuses_--who were halting beneath their burdens to have a little gossip with each other. See how characteristically he has treated the subject. [Illustration] One of the causes of the want of encouragement in NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES, among the French, may arise from the natural love of the people for what is gay and gaudy, rather than for what is grave and instructive. And yet, when will nations learn that few things tend so strongly to keep alive a pure spirit of PATRIOTISM as _such_ a study or pursuit? As we reverence the past, so do we anticipate the future. To love what our forefathers have done in arts, in arms, or in learning, is to lay the surest foundation for a proper respect for our own memories in after ages. But with Millin, I fear, the study of Archaeology will sleep soundly, if not expire, among the Parisians. VISCONTI has doubtless left a splendid name behind him here; but Visconti was an Italian. No; my friend--the ARTS have recently taken an exclusive turn for the admiration, even to adoration, of portrait and historical painters: No LYSONSES, no BLORES, no MACKENZIES are patronised either at Paris or in the other great cities of France. I must however make an honourable exception in favour of the direction given to the splendid talents of MADAME JAQUOTOT. And I cannot, in common justice, omit, on this occasion, paying a very sincere tribute of respect to the PRESENT KING[193]--who has really been instrumental to this direction. I have lately paid this clever lady a morning visit, with a letter of introduction from our common friend M. Langlès. As I was very courteously received, I begged that I might only see such specimens of her art as would give her the least possible trouble, and afford me at the same time an opportunity of judging of her talents. Madame Jaquotot was as liberal in the display of her productions, as she was agreeable and polite in her conversation. I saw all her performances. Her copies of Leonardo da Vinci and Guido, in black crayons, are beautiful of their kind; but her enamel copies, upon porcelaine, of the _Portraits of the more celebrated Characters of France_--executed at the desire and expense of his Majesty--perfectly delighted me. The plan is as excellent as its execution is perfect. But such performances have not been accomplished without a heavy previous expense, on the score of experiments. I was told that the artist had sunk a sum little short of five or six hundred pounds sterling, in the different processes for trying and fixing her colours. But she seems now to walk upon firm ground, and has nothing but an abundant harvest to look forward to. Indeed, for every portrait, square, or oval, (although scarcely more than _three inches_ in height) she receives a hundred louis d'or. This is a truly princely remuneration: but I do not consider it overpaid. Some of the earlier portraits are taken from illuminated manuscripts; and, among them, I quickly recognised that of my old friend _Anne of Brittany_,--head and shoulders only: very brilliant and characteristic--but Mr. Lewis is "yet a painter." As all these bijoux (amounting perhaps to twelve or fifteen in number) were displayed before me, I fancied I was conversing with the very Originals themselves. The whole length of _Henri IV_., of the same size as the original in the Louvre, is probably the chef d'oeuvre of Madame Jaquotot. It is exquisitely perfect. When she comes down to the reign of Louis XIV., she has necessarily recourse to the originals of PETITOT; of which the Louvre contains a precious glazed case, enclosing about four or five dozen, of them. Here again the copyist treads closely upon the heels of her predecessor; while her portrait of _Anne of Austria_ comes fully up to every thing we discover in the original. Upon the whole, I spent a pleasant and most instructive hour with this accomplished lady; and sincerely wish that all talents, like hers, may receive a similar direction and meet with an equally liberal reward. You must not fail to bear in mind that, in my humble judgment, this department of art belongs strictly to NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES. For _one_, who would turn his horse's head towards Madame Jaquotot's dwelling, in the _Rue Jacob_, fifty would fly with rapture to view a whole length by GÉRARD, or a group by DAVID. In portrait painting, and historical composition, these are the peculiar heroes. None dare walk within their circle: although I think GIRODET may sometimes venture to measure swords with the latter. Would you believe it? The other day, when dining with some smart, lively, young Parisians, I was compelled to defend RAFFAELLE against David? the latter being considered by them _superior_ to the Italian artist in a _knowledge of drawing_. Proh pudor! This will remind you of Jervas's celebrated piece of nonsensical flattery to himself--when, on Pope's complimenting that artist upon one of his portraits, he compassionately exclaimed "_Poor little Tit_!"--Surely all these national prejudices are as unwise as they are disgusting. Of Gérard, I would wish to speak with respect; but an artist, who receives from fifteen to twenty thousand francs for the painting of a whole length portrait, stands upon an eminence which exposes him to the observation of every man. In the same degree, also, does his elevation provoke the criticism of every man. But, however respectfully I may wish to speak of Gérard, I do not, in my conscience, consider him superior to what may be called the _second rate_ class of portrait-painters in England.[194] His outline is often hard, and full of affectation of a knowledge of drawing: his colouring is as frequently severe and metallic, and there is rarely any expression of mind or soul in his faces. I saw at Laugier's the other day, his portrait of Madame de Stael--painted from _recollection_. He certainly had _forgotten_ how to _colour_ when he executed it. Forster (a very clever, sensible, and amiable young man) is busied, or rather has just finished, the engraving of a portrait of the Duke of Wellington, by the same painter. What has depended upon _him_ has been charmingly done: but the figure of the great Original--instead of giving you the notion of the FIRST CAPTAIN OF HIS AGE[195]--is a poor, trussed-up, unmeaning piece of composition: looking-out of the canvas with a pair of eyes, which, instead of seeming to anticipate and frustrate (as they _have_ done) the movements of his adversary, as if by magic, betray an almost torpidity or vacancy of expression! The attitude is equally unnatural and ungraceful. Another defect, to my eye, in Gérard's portraits, is, the quantity of flaunting colour and glare of varnish with which his canvas is covered. The French cognoscenti swear by "the _swearing of the Horatii_" of David. I saw a reduced copy of the large picture at the Luxembourg, by the artist himself--at Didot's: and it was while discussing the comparative merits and demerits of this famous production, that I ventured to observe that Raffaelle would have drawn the hands better. A simultaneous shout of opposition followed the remark. I could scarcely preserve common gravity or decorum: but as my antagonists were serious, I was also resolved to enact a serious part. It is not necessary to trouble you with a summary of my remarks; although I am persuaded I never talked so much French, without interruption, for so long a space of time. However, my opponents admitted, with a little reluctance, that, if the hands of the Horatii were not ill drawn, the _position_ of them was sufficiently affected. I then drew their attention, to the _Cupid and Psyche_ of the same master, in the collection of the Marquis of Sommariva, (in the notice of which my last letter was pretty liberal) but I had here a less obstinate battle to encounter. It certainly appeared (they admitted) that David did not improve as he became older. Among the Painters of eminence I must not forget to mention LAURENT. The French are not very fond of him, and certainly they under-rate his talents. As a colourist, some of his satins may vie with those of Vanderwerf. He paints portraits, in small, as well as fancy-subjects. Of the former, that of his daughter is beautifully executed. Of the latter, his _Young Falconer_ is a production of the most captivating kind. But it is his _Joan of Arc_ which runs away with the prize of admiration. The Government have purchased the house in which that celebrated female was born,[196] and over the door of which an ancient statue of her is to be seen. Laurent's portrait is also purchased to be placed over the chimney-piece of the room; and it is intended to supply furniture, of the character which it originally might have possessed. But if France cannot now boast her Mignard, Rigaud, or the Poussins, she has reason to be proud of her present race of _Engravers_. Of these, DESNOYERS evidently takes the lead. He is just now in Italy, and I shall probably not see him--having twice called in vain. I own undisguisedly that I am charmed with all his performances; and especially with his sacred subjects from Raffaelle:--whom, it is just possible, he may consider to be a somewhat better draftsman than David. There is hardly any thing but what he adorns by his touch. He may consider the whole length portrait of _Bonaparte_ to be his chef-d'oeuvre; but his _Vierge au Linge, Vierge dite la Belle Jardinière_,--and perhaps, still finer, that called _au Donataire_--are infinitely preferable, to my taste. The portrait has too much of detail. It is a combination of little parts; of flowered robes, with a cabinet-like background: every thing being almost mechanical, and the shield of the ex-Emperor having all the elaborate minutiæ of Grignion. I am heretic enough to prefer the famous whole length of poor Louis XVI, by Bervic after Callet: there is such a flow of line and gracefulness of expression in this latter performance! But Desnoyers has uncommon force, as well as sweetness and tenderness, in the management of historical subjects: although I think that his recent production of _Eliezer and Rebecca_, from _Nicolo Poussin_, is unhappy--as to choice. His females have great elegance. His line never flows more freely than in the treatment of his female figures; yet he has nothing of the style of finishing of our STRANGE. His _Francis_ I, and _Marguerite de Valois_ is, to my eye, one of the most finished, successful, and interesting of his performances. It is throughout a charming picture, and should hang over half the mantle pieces in the kingdom. His portrait of _Talleyrand_ is brilliant; but there are parts very much too black. It will bear no comparison with the glorious portrait of our _John Hunter_, by Sharp--from Sir J. Reynolds. Desnoyers engraves only for himself: that is to say, he is the sole proprietor of his performances, and report speaks him to be in the receipt of some twenty-five thousand francs per annum. He deserves all he has gained--both in fortune and reputation. MASSARD works in the same school with Desnoyers. He is harder in his style of outline as well as of finishing; but he understands his subject thoroughly, and treats it with skill and effect. ANDOUIN is lately come out with a whole length portrait of the present king: a palpable copy, as to composition, of that of his late brother. There are parts of the detail most exquisitely managed, but the countenance is rather too severely marked. LIGNON is the prince of portrait-engravers. His head of _Mademoiselle Mars_--though, upon the whole, exhibiting a flat, and unmeaning countenance, when we consider that it represents the first comic actress in Europe--is a master-piece of graphic art. It is wrought with infinite care, brilliancy, and accuracy. The lace, over the lady's shoulder, may bid defiance even to what Drevet and Masson have effected of the like kind. The eyes and the gems of Mademoiselle Mars seem to sparkle with a rival lustre; but the countenance is too flat, and the nose wants elevation and beauty. For this latter, however, neither Gérard nor Lignon are amenable to criticism. Upon the whole, it is a very surprising performance. If I were called upon to notice Lignon's chef d'oeuvre, I would mention the frontispiece to the magnificent impression of _Camoens' Lusiad_, containing the head of the author, surrounded by an arabesque border of the most surprising brilliancy of composition and execution. You must however remember, that it is in the splendid work entitled LE MUSÉE FRANÇAIS, that many fine specimens of all the artists just mentioned are to be found. There is no occasion to be more particular in the present place. I must not omit the notice of FORSTER and LAUGIER: both of whom I have visited more than once. At the same time, I beg it may be distinctly understood that the omission of the names of _other_ engravers is no implication that they are passed over as being unworthy of regard. On the contrary, there are several whom I could mention who might take precedence even of the two last noticed. Some of Forster's academic figures, which gained him the prize, are very skilfully treated; both as to drawing and finishing. His print of _Titian's Mistress_ exhibits, in the face and bosom of the female, a power and richness of effect which may contend with some of the best efforts of Desnoyers's burin. The reflex-light, in the mirror behind, is admirably managed; but the figure of Titian, and the lower parts of his Mistress--especially the arms and hands--are coarse, black, and inharmonious. His _Wellington_ is a fine performance, as to mechanical skill. M. Bénard, the well-known print-seller to his Majesty, living on the _Boulevards Italiens_, laughed with me the other day at the rival Wellington--painted by Lawrence, and engraved by Bromley,--as a piece of very inferior art! But men may laugh on the wrong side of the face. I consider, however, that what has depended upon Forster, has been done with equal ability and truth. Undoubtedly the great failing of the picture is, that it can hardly be said to have even a faint resemblance of the original. M. Laugier has not yet reached his full powers of maturity; but what he has done is remarkable for feeling and force. His _Daphne and Chloe_, and _Hero and Leander_ are early performances, but they are full of promise, and abound in excellences. Colour and feeling are their chief merit. The latter print has the shadows too dark. The former is more transparent, more tender, and in better keeping. The foreground has, in some parts, the crispness and richness of Woollett. They tell me that it is a rare print, and that only 250 copies were struck off--at the expense of the Society of Arts. Laugier has recently executed a very elaborate print of Leander, just in the act of reaching the shore--(where his mistress is trembling for his arrival in a lighted watch-tower) but about to be buried in the overwhelming waves. The composition of the figure is as replete with affectation, as its position is unnatural, if not impossible. The waves seem to be suspended over him--on purpose to shew off his limbs to every degree of advantage. He is perfectly canopied by their "gracefully-curled tops." The engraving itself is elaborate to excess: but too stiff, even to a metallic effect. It can never be popular with us; and will, I fear, find but few purchasers in the richly garnished repertoire of the worthy Colnaghi. Indeed it is a painful, and almost repulsive, subject. Laugier's portrait of _Le Vicomte de Chateaubriand_ exhibits his prevailing error of giving blackness, rather than depth, to his shadows. Black hair, a black cravat, and black collar to the coat--with the lower part of the background almost "gloomy as night"--are not good accessories. This worthy engraver lives at present with his wife, an agreeable and unaffected little woman, up four pair of stairs, in the _Rue de Paradis_. I told him--and as I thought with the true spirit of prediction--that, on a second visit to Paris I should find him descended--full two stories: in proportion as he was ascending in fortune and fame. The French are either not fond of, or they do not much patronise, engraving in the _stippling_ manner: "_au poinctilliet_"--as they term it. Roger is their chief artist in this department. He is clever, undoubtedly; but his shadows are too black, and the lighter parts of his subjects want brilliancy. What he does "en petit," is better than what he does upon a larger scale." In _mezzotint_ the Parisians have not a single artist particularly deserving of commendation. They are perhaps as indifferent as we are somewhat too extravagantly attached, to it. Speaking of the FRENCH SCHOOL OF ENGRAVING, in a general and summary manner--especially of the line engravers--one must admit that there is a great variety of talent; combined with equal knowledge of drawing and of execution; but the general effect is too frequently hard, glittering, and metallic. The draperies have sometimes the severity of armour; and the accessories, of furniture or other objects, are frequently too highly and elaborately finished. Nor is the flesh always free from the appearance of marble. But the names I have mentioned, although not entirely without some of these defects, have great and more than counter-balancing excellences. In the midst of all the graphic splendour of modern Paris, it was delightful music to my ears to hear WILKIE and RAIMBACH so highly extolled by M. Bénard. "Ha, votre _Wilkie_--voilà un génie distingué!" Who could say "nay?" But let BURNET have his share of graphic praise; for the _Blind Fiddler_ owes its popularity throughout Europe to _his_ burin. They have recently copied our friend Wilkie's productions on a small scale, in aqua-tint; cleverly enough--for three francs a piece. I told Benard that the Duke of Wellington had recently bespoke a picture from Mr. Wilkie's pencil. "What is the subject to be?"--demanded he, quickly. I replied, in the very simplicity of my heart, "Soldiers regaling themselves, on receiving the news of the victory of Waterloo." Mons. Bénard was paralised for one little moment: but rallying quickly, he answered, with perfect truth, as I conceive "_Comment donc_, TOUT EST WATERLOO, _chez vous!_" M. Bénard spoke very naturally, and I will not find fault with him for such a response; for he is an obliging, knowing, and a very pleasant tradesman to do business with. He admits, readily and warmly, that we have great artists, both as painters and engravers; and pointing to Sharpe's _John Hunter_ and _The Doctors of the Church_--which happened to be hanging just before us--he observed that "these, efforts had never been surpassed by his own countrymen." I told him (while conversing about the respective merits of the British and French Schools of Engraving) that it appeared to me, that in France, there was no fine feeling for LANDSCAPE ENGRAVING; and that, as to ANTIQUARIAN art, what had been produced in the publications of Mr. Britton, and in the two fine topographical works--Mr. Clutterbuck's Hertfordshire," and. Mr. Surtees' Durham--exhibited such specimens of the burin, in that department, as could scarcely be hoped to be excelled.[197] M. Bénard did not very strenuously combat these observations. The great mart for _Printselling_ is the Boulevards; and more especially that of the _Boulevards Italiens_. A stranger can have no conception of the gaiety and brilliance of the print-shops, and print-stalls, in this neighbourhood. Let him first visit it in the morning about nine o'clock; with the sun-beams sparkling among the foliage of the trees, and the incessant movements of the populace below, who are about commencing another day's pilgrimage of human life. A pleasant air is stirring at this time; and the freshness arising from the watering of the footpath--but more particularly the fragrance from innumerable bouquets, with mignonette, rose trees, and lilacs--extended in fair array--is altogether quite charming and singularly characteristic. But my present business is with prints. You see them, hanging in the open air--framed and not framed--for some quarter of a mile: with the intermediate space filled by piles of calf-bound volumes and sets of apparently countless folios. Here are _Moreri, Bayle_, the _Dictionnaire de Trévoux, Charpentier_, and the interminable _Encyclopédie_: all very tempting of their kind, and in price:--but all utterly unpurchasable--on account of the heavy duties of importation, arising from their weight. However--again I say--my present business is with _Prints_. Generally speaking, these prints are pleasing in their manner of execution, reasonable in price, and of endless variety. But the perpetual intrusion of subjects of studied nudity is really at times quite disgusting. It is surprising (as I think I before remarked to you) with what utter indifference and apathy, even females, of respectable appearance and dress, will be gazing upon these subjects; and now that the art of _lithography_ is become fashionable, the print-shops of Paris will be deluged with an inundation of these odious representations, which threaten equally to debase the art and to corrupt morals. This cheap and wholesale circulation of what is mischievous, and of really most miserable execution, is much to be deplored. Even in the better part of art, lithography will have a pernicious effect. Not only a well-educated and distinguished engraver will find, in the long run his business slackening from the reduced prices at which prints. are sold, but a _bad taste_ will necessarily be the result: for the generality of purchasers, not caring for comparative excellence in art, will be well pleased to give _one_ franc, for what, before, they could not obtain under _three_ or _five_. Hence we may date the decline and downfall of art itself. I was surprised, the other day, at hearing DENON talk so strongly in favour of lithography. I told him "it was a bastard art; and I rejoiced, in common with every man of taste or feeling, that _that_ art had not made its appearance before the publication of his work upon Egypt." It may do well for "The whisker'd pandour and the fierce hussar"-- or it may, in the hands of such a clever artist as VERNET, be managed with good effect in representations of skirmishes of horse and foot--groups of banditti--a ruined battlement, or mouldering tower--overhanging rocks-- rushing torrents--or umbrageous trees--but, in the higher department of art, as connected with portrait and historical engraving, it cannot, I apprehend, attain to any marked excellence.[198] Portraits however--of a particular description--_may_ be treated with tolerable success; but when you come to put lithographic engraving in opposition to that of _line_--the _latter_ will always and necessarily be ... velut inter ignes LUNA minores! I cannot take leave of A CITY, in which I have tarried so long, and with so much advantage to myself, without saying one word about the manners, customs, and little peculiarities of character of those with whom I have been recently associating. Yet the national character is pretty nearly the same at Rouen and at Caen, as at Paris; except that you do not meet with those insults from the _canaille_ which are but too frequent at these first-mentioned places. Every body here is busy and active, yet very few. have any thing _to do_--in the way of what an Englishman would call _business_. The thoughtful brow, the abstracted, look, the hurried step.. which you see along Cheapside and Cornhill ... are here of comparatively rare appearance. Yet every body is "sur le pavé." Every body seems to live out of doors. How the _ménage_ goes on--and: how domestic education is regulated--strikes the inexperienced eye of an Englishman as a thing quite inconceivable. The temperature of Paris is no doubt very fine, although it has been of late unprecedentedly hot; and a French workman, or labourer, enjoys, out of doors--from morning till night those meals, which, with us, are usually partaken of within. The public places of entertainment are pretty sure to receive a prodigious proportion of the population of Paris every evening. A mechanic, or artisan, will devote two thirds of his daily gains to the participation of this pleasure. His dinner will consist of the most meagre fare--at the lowest possible price--provided, in the evening, he can hear _Talma_ declaim, _or Albert_ warble, or see _Pol_ leap, or _Bigotini_ entrance a wondering audience by the grace of her movements, and the pathos of her dumb shew, in _Nina._ The preceding strikes me as the general complexion of character of three fourths of the Parisians: but then they are gay, and cheerful, and apparently happy. If they have not the phlegm of the German, or the thoughtfulness of ourselves, they are less cold, and less insensible to the passing occurrences of life. A little pleases them, and they give in return much more than they receive. One thing, however, cannot fail to strike and surprise an attentive observer of national character. With all their quickness, enthusiasm, and activity, the mass of French people want that admirable quality which I unfeignedly think is the particular characteristic of ourselves:--I mean, _common sense_. In the midst of their architectural splendor--while their rooms are refulgent with gilding and plate-glass; while their mantle-pieces sparkle with or-molu clocks; or their tables are decorated with vases, and artificial flowers of the most exquisite workmanship--and while their carpets and curtains betray occasionally all the voluptuousness of eastern pomp ... you can scarcely obtain egress or ingress into the respective apartments, from the wretchedness of their _locks_ and _keys!_ Mechanical studies or improvements should seem to be almost entirely uncultivated--for those who remember France nearly half a century ago, tell me that it was pretty much then as it is now. Another thing discomposes the sensitive nerves of the English; especially those of our notable housewives. I allude to the rubbishing appearance of their _grates_--and the dingy and sometimes disgusting aspect of carpets and flowered furniture. A good mahogany dining table is a perfect rarity[199]--and let him, who stands upon a chair to take down a quarto or octavo, beware how he encounter a broken shin or bruised elbow, from the perpendicularity of the legs of that same chair. The same want of common-sense, cleanliness, and convenience--is visible in nearly the whole of the French ménage. Again, in the streets--their cabriolet drivers and hackney coachmen are sometimes the most furious of their tribe. I rescued, the other day, an old and respectable gentleman-- with the cross of St. Louis appendant to his button-hole--from a situation, in which, but for such a rescue, he must have been absolutely knocked down and rode over. He shook his cane at the offender; and, thanking me very heartily for my protection, observed, "these rascals improve daily in their studied insult of all good Frenchmen." The want of _trottoirs_ is a serious and even absurd want; as it might be so readily supplied. Their carts are obviously ill-constructed, and especially in the caps of the wheels; which, in a narrow street--as those of Paris usually are--unnecessarily occupy a _foot_ of room, where scarcely an _inch_ can be spared. The rubbish piled against the posts, in different parts of the street, is as disgusting as it is obviously inconvenient. A police "ordonnance" would obviate all this in twenty-four hours. Yet in many important respects the Parisian multitude read a lesson to ourselves. In their public places of resort, the French are wonderfully decorous; and along the streets, no lady is insulted by the impudence of either sex. You are sure to walk in peace, if you conduct yourself peaceably. I had intended to say a word upon morals: and religion; but the subject, while it is of the highest moment, is beyond the reach of a traveller whose stay is necessarily short, and whose occupations, upon the whole, have been confined rather among the dead than the living. Farewell, therefore, to PARIS. I have purchased a very commodious travelling carriage; to which a pair of post-horses will be attached in a couple of days--and then, for upwards of three hundred miles of journey--towards STRASBOURG! No schoolboy ever longed for a holiday more ardently than I do for the relaxation which this journey will afford me. A thousand hearty farewells! [191] [The work is now perfect in 3 volumes.] [192] [I here annex a fac-simile of his autograph from the foot of the account for these drawings.] [Illustration] [193] Then, Louis XVIII. [194] ["Sir T. Lawrence, who painted the portrait of the late Duke de Richlieu, which was seen at the last exhibition, is undoubtedly of the first class of British Portrait painters; but, according to Mr. Dibdin's judgment, many artists would have preferred to have sided with our Gérard." CRAPELET. vol. iv. 220. I confess I do not understand this reasoning: nor perhaps will my readers.] [195] [Here, Mons. Crapelet drily and pithily says, "Translated from the English." What then? Can there be the smallest shadow of doubt about the truth of the above assertion? None--with Posterity.] [196] At Domremi, in Lorraine. [197] When Desnoyers was over here, in 1819, he unequivocally expressed his rapture about our antiquarian engravings--especially of Gothic churches. Mr. Wild's _Lincoln Cathedral_ produced a succession of ecstatic remarks. "When your fine engravings of this kind come over to Paris we get little committees to sit upon them"--observed Desnoyers to an engraver--who communicated the fact to the author. [198] [The experience of ten years has confirmed THE TRUTH of the above remark.] [199] [Not so now! Mahogany, according to M. Crapelet, is every where at Paris, and at the lowest prices.] _LETTER XII._ PARIS TO STRASBOURG. _Hotel de l'Esprit, Strasbourg, July 20, 1818_. I can hardly describe to you the gratification I felt on quitting the "trein-trein".of Paris for the long, and upon the whole interesting, journey to the place whence I date this despatch. My love of rural sights, and of rural enjoyments of almost every kind, has been only equalled by my admiration of the stupendous Cathedral of this celebrated city. But not a word about the city of Strasbourg itself, for the present. My description, both of _that_ and of its _curiosities_, will be properly reserved for another letter; when I shall necessarily have had more leisure and fitter opportunities for the execution of the task. On the eleventh of this month, precisely at ten o'clock, the rattling of the hoofs of two lusty post horses--together with the cracking of an _experimental_ flourish or two of the postilion's whip--were heard in the court-yard of the Hôtel des Colonies. Nothing can exceed the punctuality of the Poste Royale in the attendance of the horses at the precise hour of ordering them. Travellers, and especially those from our _own_ country, are not _quite_ so punctual in availing themselves of this regularity; but if you keep the horses for the better part of an hour before you start, you must pay something extra for your tardiness. Of all people, the _English_ are likely to receive the most useful lesson from this wholesome regulation. By a quarter past ten, Mr. Lewis and myself having mounted our voiture, and given the signal for departure, received the "derniers adieux" of Madame the hostess, and of the whole corps of attendants. On leaving the gates of the hotel, the postilion put forth all his energies in sundry loud smackings of his whip; and as we went at a cautious pace through the narrower streets, towards the _Barriers of St. Martin_, I could not but think, with inward satisfaction, that, on visiting and leaving a city, so renowned as Paris, for the _first_ time, I had gleaned more intellectual fruit than I had presumed to hope for; and that I had made acquaintances which might probably ripen into a long and steady friendship. In short, my own memoranda, together with the drawings of Messrs. Lewis and Coeuré, were results, which convinced me that my time had not been mispent, and that my objects of research were not quite undeserving of being recorded. Few reflections give one so much pleasure, on leaving, a city--where there are so many thousand temptations to abuse time and to destroy character. The day of our departure was very fine, tending rather to heat. In a little half hour we cleared the barrier of St. Martin, and found ourselves on the broad, open, route royale--bordered by poplars and limes. To the right, was the pretty village of _Belleville:_ to the left, at the distance of some six or eight English miles, we observed _Montmorenci, St. Germain en Laye_, and, considerably nearer, _St. Denis_. All these places, together with _Versailles,_ I had previously visited--Montmorenci and St. Denis twice-- and intended to have given you an account of them; but you could have received from me scarcely any thing more than what the pages of the commonest tour would have supplied you with. We first changed horses at _Bondy_, the forest of which was once very extensive and much celebrated. You now behold little more than a formal avenue of trees. The _Castle of Raincy_, situated in this forest, is to the right, well-wooded--and the property of the Duke of Orleans. _Ville-Parisis_ was the next prettiest spot, in our route to _Claye_, where we again changed horses. The whole route, from _Ville-Parisis_ to _Meaux_, was exceedingly pleasing and even picturesque. At Meaux we dined, and have reason to remember the extravagant charges of the woman who kept the inn. The heat of the day was now becoming rather intense. While our veal-cutlet was preparing, we visited the church; which had frequently, and most picturesquely, peeped out upon us during our route. It is a large, cathedral-like looking church, without transepts, Only one tower (in the west front), is built--with the evident intention of raising another in the same aspect. They were repairing the west front, which is somewhat elaborately ornamented; but so intensely hot was the sun--on our coming out to examine it--that we were obliged to retreat into the interior, which seemed to contain the atmosphere of a different climate. A tall, well-dressed, elderly priest, in company with a middle-aged lady, were ascending the front steps to attend divine service. Hot as it was, the priest saluted us, and stood a half minute without his black cap--with the piercing rays of the sun upon a bald head. The bell tolled softly, and there was a quiet calm about the whole which almost invited, us to _postpone_ our attack upon the dinner we had ordered. Ten francs for a miserable cutlet--and a yet more wretchedly-prepared fricandeau--with half boiled artichokes, and a bottle of undrinkable vin ordinaire--was a charge sufficiently monstrous to have excited the well known warmth of expostulation of an English traveller--but it was really too hot to talk aloud! The landlady pocketed my money, and I pocketed the affront which so shameful a charge may be considered as having put upon me. We now rolled leisurely on towards _La Ferté-sous-Jouarre:_ about five French-leagues from Meaux--not without stopping to change horses at _St. Jean,_ &c. The heat would not even allow of the exercise of the postilion's whip. Every body, and every thing seemed to be oppressed by it. The labourer was stretched out in the shade, and the husbandman slept within the porch of his cottage. We had no sooner entered the little town of La Ferté-sous-Jouarre, and driven to the post-house, when not fewer than four blacksmiths came rushing out of their respective forges, to examine every part of the carriage. "A nail had started here: a screw was wanting there: and a fracture had taken place in another direction: even the perch was given way in the centre!" "Alas, for my voiture de voyage!" exclaimed I to my companion. Meanwhile, a man came forward with a red-hot piece of iron, in the shape of a cramp, to fix round the perch--which hissed as the application was made. And all this--before I could say wherefore! or even open my mouth to express astonishment! They were absolutely about to take off the wheels of the carriage; to examine, and to grease them--but it was then for the first time, that I opened a well-directed fire of expostulation; from which I apprehend that they discovered I was not perfectly ignorant either of their language or of their trickery. However, the rogues had _four_ francs for what they had the impudence to ask _six_; and considering my vehicle to be now proof against the probability of an accident, I was resolved to leave the town in the same good humour in which I had entered it. On quitting, we mounted slowly up a high ascent, and saw from thence the village of _Jouarre_, on a neighbouring summit, smothered with trees. It seemed to consist of a collection of small and elegant country houses, each with a lawn and an orchard. At the foot of the summit winds the unostentatious little stream of _Le Petit Morin_ The whole of this scenery, including the village of _Montreuil-aux-Lions_--a little onwards--was perfectly charming, and after the English fashion: and as the sky became mellowed by the rays of the declining sun, the entire landscape assumed a hue and character which absolutely refreshed our spirits after the heat of the previous part of the journey. We had resolved to sleep at _Chateau-Thierry_, about seven leagues off, and the second posting-place from where we had last halted. Night was coming on, and the moon rose slowly through a somewhat dense horizon, as we approached our rendezvous for the evening. All was tranquil and sweet. We drove to the inn called the _Sirène_, situated in the worst possible part of the town: but we quickly changed our determination, and bespoke beds for the night, and horses for the following morning, at the _Poste Royale_. The landlady of the Inn was a tartar--of her species. She knew how to talk civilly; and, for her, a more agreeable occupation--how to charge! We had little rest, and less sleep. By a quarter past five I was in the carriage; intending to breakfast at _Epernay_, about twenty-five miles off. The first post-station is _Parois_. It is a beautiful drive thither, and the village itself is exceedingly picturesque. From _Parois_ to _Dormans_, the next post village, the road continues equally interesting. We seemed to go each post like the wind; and reached _Epernay_ by nine o'clock. The drive from Dormans to Epernay is charming; and as the sky got well nigh covered by soft fleecy clouds when we reached the latter place, our physical strength, as well as animal spirits, seemed benefited by the change. I was resolved to _bargain_ for every future meal at an inn: and at Epernay I bespoke an excellent breakfast of fruit, eggs, coffee and tea, at three francs a head. This town is the great place in France for the manufacture of _Vin de Champagne_. It is here where they make it in the greatest quantities; although _Sillery_, near Rheims, boasts of champagne of a more delicate quality. I learnt here that the Prussians, in their invasion of France in 1814, committed sad havoc with this tempting property. They had been insulted, and even partially fired upon--as they passed through the town,--and to revenge themselves, they broke open the cellars of M ..., the principal wine merchant; and drank the contents of only--_one hundred thousand bottles of champagne_!" "But," said the owner of these cellars, (beyond the reach of the hearing of the Prussians, as you may be well assured!) "they did not break open my _largest vault_ ... where I had _half as much again!_. "Indeed, I was told that the wine vaults of Epernay were as well worth inspection, as the catacombs of Paris. I should observe to you that the river _Marne_, one of the second-rate rivers, of France, accompanies you pretty closely all the way from Chateau Thierry to Chalons--designated as _Chalons-sur-Marne._ From Epernay to Chalons you pass through nothing but corn fields. It is a wide and vast ocean of corn--with hardly a tree, excepting those occasionally along the road, within a boundary of ten miles. Chalons is a large and populous town; but the churches bear sad traces of revolutionary fury. Some of the porches, once covered with a profusion of rich, alto-relievo sculpture, are absolutely treated as if these ornaments had been pared away to the very quick! Scarcely a vestige remains. It is in this town where the two great roads to STRASBOURG--one by _Metz_, and the other by _Nancy_--unite. The former is to the north, the latter to the south. I chose the latter; intending to return to Paris by the former. On leaving Chalons, we purposed halting to dine at _Vitry-sur-Marne_--distant two posts, of about four leagues each. _La Chaussée,_ which we reached at a very smart trot, was the first post town, and is about half way to Vitry. From thence we had "to mount a huge hill"--- as the postilion told us; but it was here, as in Normandy--these huge hills only provoked our laughter. However, the wheel was subjected to the drag-chain--and midst clouds of white dust, which converted us into millers, we were compelled to descend slowly. Vitry was seen in the distance, which only excited our appetite and made us anxious to increase our pace. On reaching Vitry, I made my terms for dinner with the landlady of the principal inn--who was literally as sharp as a razor. However, we had a comfortable room, a good plain dinner, with an excellent bottle of _Vin de Beaune_, for three francs each. "Could Monsieur refuse this trifling payment?" He could not. Before dinner I strolled to the principal church-- which is indeed a structure of a most noble appearance--like that of St. Sulpice in form, and perhaps of a little more than half its size. It is the largest parish church which I have yet seen; but it is comparatively modern. It was Sunday; and a pleasing spectacle presented itself on entering. A numerous group of young women, dressed almost entirely in white, with white caps and veils, were singing a sort of evening hymn-- which I understood to be called the _Chaplet of the Virgin_. Their voices, unaccompanied by instrumental music, sounded sweetly from the loftiness of the roof; and every singer seemed to be touched with the deepest sense of devotion. They sang in an attitude with the body leaning forward, and the head gently inclined. The silence of the place--its distance from the metropolis--the grey aspect of the heavens--and the advanced hour of the day ... all contributed to produce in our minds very pleasing and yet serious sensations. I shall not easily forget the hymn called THE CHAPLET OF THE VIRGIN, as it was sung in the church of Vitry. After leaving this place we successively changed horses at _Longchamp_ and at _St. Dizier_. To our great comfort, it began to threaten rain. While the horses were being changed at the former place, I sat down upon a rough piece of stone, in the high road, by the side of a well dressed paysanne, and asked her if she remembered the retreat of Bonaparte in the campaign of 1814--and whether he had passed there? She said she remembered it well. Bonaparte was on horseback, a little in advance of his troops--and ambled gently, within six paces of where we were sitting. His head was rather inclined, and he appeared to be very thoughtful. _St. Dizier_ was the memorable place upon which Bonaparte made a rapid retrograde march, in order to get into the rear of the allied troops, and thus possess himself of their supplies. But this desperate movement, you know, cost him his capital, and eventually his empire. St. Dizier is rather a large place, and the houses are almost uniformly white. Night and rain came on together as we halted to change horses. But we were resolved upon another stage--to _Saudrupt_: and were now about entering the department of LORRAINE. The moon struggled through a murky sky, after the cessation of rain, as we entered _Saudrupt_: which is little better than a miserable village. Travellers seldom or never sleep here; but we had gone a very considerable distance since five in the morning, and were glad of any thing in the shape of beds. Not an inn in Normandy which we had visited, either by day or by night, seemed to be more sorry and wretched than this, where we--stretched our limbs, rather than partook of slumber. At one in the morning, a young and ardent lover chose to serenade his mistress, who was in the next house, with a screaming tune upon a half-cracked violin--which, added to the never-ceasing smacking of whips of farmers, going to the next market town-- completed our state of restlessness and misery. Yet, the next morning, we had a breakfast ... so choice, so clean, and so refreshing--in a place of all others the least apparently likely to afford it--that we almost fancied our strength had been recruited by a good night's sleep. The landlord could not help his miserable mansion, for he was very poor: so I paid him cheerfully and liberally for the accommodation he was capable of affording, and at nine o'clock left Saudrupt in the hope of a late dinner at NANCY-- the capital of Lorraine. The morning was fresh and fair. In the immediate neighbourhood of Saudrupt is the pretty village of _Brillon_, where I noticed some stone crosses; and where I observed that particular species of domestic architecture, which, commencing almost at Longchamps, obtains till within nearly three stages of Strasbourg. It consists in having rather low or flat roofs, in the Italian manner, with all the beams projecting _outside_ of the walls: which gives it a very unfinished and barbarous look. And here too I began to be more and more surprised at the meagreness of the population of the _country_. Even on quitting Epernay, I had noticed it to my companion. The human beings you see, are chiefly females--ill-featured, and ill complexioned-- working hard beneath the rays of a scorching sun. As to that sabbath-attire of cleanliness, even to smartness among our _own_ country people, it is a thing very rarely to be seen in the villages of France. At Brillon, we bought fine cherries, of a countrywoman for two sous the pound. _Bar-le Duc_ is the next post-town. It is a place of considerable extent and population: and is divided into the upper and lower town. The approach to it, along hilly passes, covered with vineyards, is pleasant enough. The driver wished to take us to the upper town--to see the church of St. Peter, wherein is contained "a skeleton perforated with worm-holes, which was the admiration of the best connoisseurs." We civilly declined such a sight, but had no objection to visit the church. It was a Saint's day: and the interior of the church was crowded to excess by women and lads. An old priest was giving his admonition from the high altar, with great propriety and effect: but we could not stay 'till the conclusion of the service. The carriage was at the door; and, reascending, we drove to the lower town, down a somewhat fearful descent, to change horses. It was impossible to avoid noticing the prodigious quantity of fruit--especially of currants and strawberries. _Ligny_ was our next halting place, to change horses. The route thither was sufficiently pleasant. You leave the town through rather a consequential gateway, of chaste Tuscan architecture, and commence ascending a lofty hill. From hence you observe, to the left, an old castle in the outskirts of the town. The road is here broad and grand: and although a very lively breeze was playing in our faces, yet we were not insensible to the increasing heat of the day. We dined at _St. Aubin_. A hearty good-humoured landlady placed before us a very comfortable meal, with a bottle of rather highly-flavoured vin ordinaire. The inn was little better than a common ale house in England: but every thing was "très propre." On leaving, we seemed to be approaching high hills, through flat meadows--where very poor cattle were feeding. A pretty drive towards _Void_ and _Laye_, the next post-towns: but it was still prettier on approaching _Toul_, of which the church, at a distance, had rather a cathedral-like appearance. We drank tea at Toul--but first proceeded to the church, which we found to be greatly superior to that of Meaux. Its interior is indeed, in parts, very elegant: and one lancet-shaped window, in particular, of stained glass, may even vie with much of what the cathedral of this place affords. At Toul, for the first time since quitting Paris, we were asked for our passports; it being a fortified town. Our next stage was _Dommartin_; behind which appeared to be a fine hilly country, now purpled by the rays of a declining sun. The church of Toul, in our rear, assumed a more picturesque appearance than before. At _Velaine_, the following post-town, we had a pair of fine mettlesome Prussian horses harnessed to our voiture, and started at a full swing trot--through the forest of Hayes, about a French league in length. The shade and coolness of this drive, as the sun was getting low, were quite refreshing. The very postilion seemed to enjoy it, and awakened the echoes of each avenue by the unintermitting sounds of numberless flourishes of his whip. "How tranquil and how grand!" would he occasionally exclaim. On clearing the forest, we obtained the first glimpse of something like a distant mountainous country: which led us to conclude that we were beginning to approach the VOSGES--or the great chain of mountains, which, running almost due north and south, separates France from ALSACE. Below, glittered the spires of _Nancy_--as the sun's last rays rested upon them. A little distance beyond, shot up the two elegant towers of _St. Nicholas_; but I am getting on a little too fast.... The forest of Hayes can be scarcely less than a dozen English miles in breadth. I had never before seen so much wood in France. Yet the want of water is a great draw-back to the perfection of rural scenery in this country. We had hardly observed one rivulet since we had quitted the little glimmering stream at Chateau-Thierry. We now gained fast upon NANCY, the capital of Lorraine. It is doubtless among the handsomest provincial towns in Europe; and is chiefly indebted for its magnificence to Stanislaus, King of Poland, who spent the latter part of his life there, and whose daughter was married to Louis XV. The annexation of Lorraine to France has been considered the masterpiece of Louis's policy. Nancy may well boast of her broad and long streets: running chiefly at right angles with each other: well paved, and tolerably clean. The houses are built chiefly of stone. Here are churches, a theatre, a college, a public library--palace-like buildings--public gardens-- hospitals, coffee houses, and barracks. In short, Nancy is another Caen; but more magnificent, although less fruitful in antiquities. The _Place de la Liberté_ et _d'alliance_ et _de la Carriére_ may vie with the public buildings of Bath; but some of the sculptured ornaments of the _former_, exhibit miserable proofs of the fury of the Revolutionists. Indeed Nancy was particularly distinguished by a visit of the Marseillois gentry, who chose to leave behind pretty strong proofs of their detestation of what was at once elegant and harmless. The headless busts of men and women, round the house of the governor, yet prove the excesses of the mob; and the destruction of two places of worship was the close of their devastating labours. Nancy is divided into the _Old_ and the _New Town_. The four principal streets, dividing the latter nearly at right angles, are terminated by handsome arches, in the character of _gateways_. They have a noble appearance. On the first evening of our arrival at Nancy, we walked, after a late cup of tea, into the public garden--at the extremity of the town. It was broad moon light; and the appearance of the _Caffés_, and several _Places_, had quite a new and imposing effect; they being somewhat after the Parisian fashion. After a day of dust, heat, and rapid motion, a seat upon one of the stone-benches of the garden--surrounded by dark green trees, of which the tops were tipt with silver by the moon beam--could not fail to refresh and delight me: especially as the tranquillity of the place was only disturbed by the sounds of two or three groups of _bourgeoises_, strolling arm in arm, and singing what seemed to be a popular, national air--of which the tune was somewhat psalm-like. The broad walks abounded with bowers, and open seats; and the general effect was at once singular and pleasing. The Hotel-Royal is an excellent inn; and the owners of it are very civil people. My first visits were paid to churches and to bookseller's shops. Of churches, the _Cathedral_ is necessarily the principal. It is large, lofty, and of an elegant construction, of the Grecian order: finished during the time of Stanislaus. The ornamental parts are too flaunting; too profuse, and in bad taste. This excess of decoration pervades also the house of the Governor; which, were it not so, might vie with that of Lord Burlington; which it is not unlike in its general appearance. In the Cathedral, the monument of Stanislaus, by Girardon, is _considered_ to be a chef-d'ouvre. There was a Girardet--chief painter to Stanislaus, who is here called "the rival of Apelles:" a rival with a vengeance! From thence I went to an old church--perhaps of the thirteenth, but certainly of the fourteenth century. They call it, I think, _St. Epreuve._ In this church I was much struck with a curious old painting, executed in distemper, upon the walls of a side aisle, which seemed to be at least three hundred years old. It displayed the perils and afflictions of various Saints, on various emergencies, and how they were all eventually saved by the interposition of the Virgin. A fine swaggering figure, in the foreground, dressed out in black and yellow-striped hose, much delighted me. Parts of this curious old picture were worth copying. Near to this curiosity seemed to be a fine, genuine painting, by Vandyke, of the Virgin and Child--the first exhibition of the kind which I had seen since leaving Paris. It formed a singular contrast to the picture before described. On quitting this old church, I could not help smiling to observe a bunch of flowers, in an old mustard pot--on which was inscribed "_Moutarde Fine de Nageon, à Dijon_--" placed at the feet of a statue of the Virgin as a sacred deposit! On leaving the church, I visited two booksellers: one of them rather distinguished for his collection of _Alduses_--as I was informed. I found him very chatty, very civil, but not very reasonable in his prices. He told me that he had plenty of old books--_Alduses_ and _Elzevirs, &c_.--with lapping-over vellum-bindings. I desired nothing better; and followed him up stairs. Drawer after drawer was pulled out. These M. Renouard had seen: those the Comte d'Ourches had wished to purchase; and a third pile was destined for some nobleman in the neighbourhood. There was absolutely nothing in the shape of temptation--except a _Greek Herodian_, by Theodore Martin of Louvain, and a droll and rather rare little duodecimo volume, printed at Amsterdam in 1658, entitled _La Comédie de Proverbes_. The next bookseller I visited, was a printer. "Had he any thing old and curious?" He replied, with a sort of triumphant chuckle, that he "once had _such_ a treasure of this kind!" "What might it have been?" "A superb missal--for which a goldsmith had offered him twelve sous for each initial letter upon a gold ground--but which he had parted with, for 100 francs, to the library of a Benedictin monastery--now destroyed. It had cost him twelve sous." "But see, Sir, (continued he) is not this curious?" "It is a mere reprint, (replied I) of what was first published three hundred years ago." "No matter--buy it, and read it--it will amuse you--and it costs only five sous." I purchased two copies, and I send you here the title and the frontispiece. "_Le Dragon Rouge, ou l'art de commander les Esprits Célestes, Aériens, Terrestres, Infernaux. Avec le vrai Secret de faire parler les Morts; de gagner toutes les fois qu'on met aux Lotteries; de découvrir les Trésors," &c_. [Illustration] The bookseller told me that he regularly sold hundreds of copies of this work, and that the country people yet believed in the efficacy of its contents! I had been told that it was in this very town that a copy of _the Mazarine Bible_ had been picked up for some _half_ _dozen francs!_--and conveyed to the public library at Munich. Towards the evening, I visited the public library by appointment. Indeed I had casually met the public librarian at the first Bouquiniste's: and he fixed the hour of half-past six. I was punctual almost to the minute; and on entering the library, found a sort of BODLEY in miniature: except that there was a great mass of books in the middle of the room--placed in a parallelogram form--which I thought must have a prodigiously heavy pressure upon the floor. I quickly began to look about for _Editiones Principes_; but, at starting, my guide placed before me two copies of the celebrated _Liber Nanceidos_:[200] of which _one_ might be fairly said to be _large paper_. On continuing my examination, I found civil and canon law-- pandects, glosses, decretals, and commentaries--out of number: together with no small sprinkling of medical works. Among the latter was a curious, and _Mentelin_-like looking, edition of _Avicenna_. But _Ludolphus's Life of Christ_, in Latin, printed in the smallest type of _Eggesteyn_, in 1474, a folio, was a volume really worth opening and worth coveting. It was in its original monastic binding--large, white, unsullied, and abounding with rough marginal edges. It is supposed that the library contains 25,000 volumes. Attached to it is a Museum of Natural History. But alas! since the revolution it exhibits a frightful picture of decay, devastation, and confusion. To my eye, it was little better than the apothecary's shop described by Romeo. It contained a number of portraits in oil, of eminent Naturalists; which are palpable copies, by the same hand, of originals ... that have probably perished. The museum had been gutted of almost every thing that was curious or precious. Indeed they want funds, both for the museum and the library. It was near night-fall when I quitted the library, and walked with the librarian in a pleasant, open space, near one of the chief gates or entrances before mentioned. The evening was uncommonly sweet and serene: and the moon, now nearly full, rose with more than her usual lustre ... in a sky of the deepest blue which I had yet witnessed. I shall not readily forget the conversation of that walk. My companion spoke of his own country with the sincerity of a patriot, but with the good sense of an honest, observing, reflecting man. I had never listened to observations better founded, or which seemed calculated to produce more beneficial results. Of _our_ country, he spoke with an animation approaching to rapture. It is only the exercise of a grateful feeling to record this--of a man--whose name I have forgotten, and whose person I may never see again. On quitting each other, I proceeded somewhat thoughtfully, to an avenue of shady trees, where groups of men and women were sitting or strolling--beneath the broad moon beam--and chanting the popular airs of their country. The next morning I quitted Nancy. The first place of halting was _St. Nicholas_--of which the elegant towers had struck us on the other side of Nancy. It was no post town: but we could not pass such an ecclesiastical edifice without examining it with attention. The village itself is most miserable; yet it could once boast of a _press_ which gave birth to the _Liber Nanceidos_.[201] The space before the west front of the church is absolutely choked by houses of the most squalid appearance--so that there is hardly getting a good general view of the towers. The interior struck us as exceedingly interesting. There are handsome transepts; in one of which is a large, circular, central pillar; in the other, an equally large one, but twisted. One is astonished at finding such a large and beautiful building in such a situation; but formerly the place might have been large and flourishing. The west front of this church may rival two-thirds of similar edifices in France. _Domballe_ was the next post: the drive thither being somewhat picturesque. _Luneville_ is the immediately following post town. It is a large and considerable place; looking however more picturesque at a distance than on its near approach: owing to the red tiles of which the roofs are composed. Here are handsome public buildings; a fountain, with eight jets d'eau-- barracks, a theatre, and the castle of Prince Charles, of Lorraine. A good deal of business is carried on in the earthenware and cotton trade--of both which there is a manufactory--together with that of porcelaine. This place is known in modern history from the _Treaty of Luneville_ between the Austrians and French in 1801. From hence we went to _Bénaménil_, the next stage; and in our way thither, we saw, for the first time since leaving Paris, a _flock of geese!_ Dined at _Blamont_--the succeeding post town. While our cutlets were preparing we strolled to the old castle, now in a state of dilapidation. It is not spacious, but is a picturesque relic. Within the exterior walls is a fine kitchen garden. From the top of what might have been the donjon, we surveyed the surrounding country--at that moment rendered hazy by an atmosphere of dense, heated, vapour. Indeed it was uncommonly hot. Upon the whole, both the village and _Castle of Blamont_ merit at least the leisurely survey of an entire day. On starting for _Héming_, the next post, we were much pleased by the sight of a rich, verdant valley, fertilized by a meandering rivulet. The village of _Richeval_ had particular attractions; and the sight of alternate woods and meadows seemed to mitigate the severity of the heat of the day. At Héming we changed horses, opposite a large fountain where cattle were coming to drink. The effect was very picturesque; but there was no time for the pencil of Mr. Lewis to be exercised. In less than five minutes we were off for _Sarrebourg_. Evening came on as we approached it. Here I saw _hops_ growing, for the first time; and here, for the first time, I heard the _German language_ spoken--and observed much of the German character in the countenances of the inhabitants. The postilion was a German, and could not speak one word of French. However, he knew the art of driving--for we seemed to fly like the wind towards _Hommarting_--which we reached in half an hour. It was just two leagues from Sarrebourg. We stopped to change horses close to what seemed to be a farm house; and as the animals were being "yoked to the car," for another German Phaeton, I walked into a very large room, which appeared to be a kitchen. Two long tables were covered with supper; at each of which sat--as closely wedged as well could be--a great number of work-people of both sexes, and of all ages. Huge dogs were moving backwards and forwards, in the hope of receiving some charitable morsel;, and before the fire, on a littered hearth, lay stretched out two tremendous mastiffs. I walked with fear and trembling. The cooks were carrying the evening meal; and the whole place afforded such an _interior_--as Jan Steen would have viewed with rapture, and Wilkie have been delighted to copy. Meanwhile the postilion's whip was sounded: the fresh horses were neighing: and I was told that every thing was ready. I mounted with alacrity. It was getting dark; and I requested the good people of the house to tell the postilion that I did not wish him to _sleep_ upon the road. The hint was sufficient. This second German postilion seemed to have taken a leaf out of the book of his predecessor: for we exchanged a sharp trot for a full swing canter--terminating in a gallop; and found ourselves unexpectedly before the gates of _Phalsbourg_. Did you ever, my dear friend, approach a fortified town by the doubtful light of a clouded moon, towards eleven of the clock? A mysterious gloom envelopes every thing. The drawbridge is up. The solitary centinel gives the pass-word upon the ramparts; and every footstep, however slight, has its particular echo. Judge then of the noise made by our heavy-hoofed coursers, as we neared the drawbridge. "What want you there?" said a thundering voice, in the French language, from within. "A night's lodging," replied I. "We are English travellers, bound for Strasbourg." "You must wait till I speak with the sub-mayor." "Be it so." We waited patiently; but heard a great deal of parleying within the gates. I began to think we should be doomed to retrace our course--when, after a delay of full twenty minutes, we heard ... to our extreme satisfaction ... the creaking of the hinges (but not as "harsh thunder") of the ponderous portals--which opened slowly and stubbornly--and which was succeeded by the clanking of the huge chain, and the letting down of the drawbridge. This latter rebounded slightly as it reached its level: and I think I hear, at this moment, the hollow rumbling noise of our horses' feet, as we passed over the deep yawning fosse below. Our passports were now demanded. We surrendered them willingly, on the assurance given of receiving them the following morning. The gates were now closed behind us, and we entered the town in high glee. "You are a good fellow," said I to the gatesman: come to me at the inn, to-morrow morning, and you shall be thanked in the way you like best." The landlord of the inn was not yet a-bed. As he heard our approach, he called all his myrmidons about him--and bade us heartily welcome. He was a good-looking, sleek, jolly-faced man: civilly spoken, with a ready utterance, which seemed prepared to touch upon all kinds of topics. After I had bespoken tea and beds, and as the boiling water was getting ready, he began after the following fashion: "Hé bien Mons. Le Comte ... comment vont les affaires en Angleterre? Et votre grand capitaine, le DUC DE VELLINGTON, comment se porte il? Ma foi, à ce moment, il joue un beau rôle." I answered that "matters were going on very well in England, and that our great Captain was in perfectly good health." "Vous le connoissez parfaitement bien, sans doute?"--was his next remark. I told him I could not boast of that honour. "Neanmoins, (added he) il est connu par-tout." I readily admitted the truth of this observation. Our dialogue concluded by an assurance on his part, that we should find our beds excellent, our breakfast on the morrow delicious--and he would order such a pair of horses (although he strongly recommended _four_,) to be put to our carriage, as should set all competition at defiance. His prediction was verified in every particular. The beds were excellent; the breakfast, consisting of coffee, eggs, fruit, and bread and butter, (very superior to what is usually obtained in France) was delicious; and the horses appeared to be perfect of their kind. The reckoning was, to be sure, a little severe: but I considered this as the payment or punishment of having received the title of _Count_ ... without contradiction. It fell on my ears as mere words of course; but it shall not deceive me a second time. We started a little time after nine; and on leaving the place I felt more than usual anxiety and curiosity to catch the first glimpse of the top of _Strasbourg Cathedral_,--a building, of which I had so long cherished even the most extravagant notions. The next post town was _Saverne_; and our route thither was in every respect the most delightful and gratifying of any, and even of all the routes, collectively, which we had yet experienced. As you approach it, you cross over a part of the famous chain of mountains which divide OLD FRANCE from Germany, and which we thought we had seen from the high ground on the other side of Nancy. The country so divided, was, and is yet, called ALSACE: and the mountains, just mentioned, are called the _Vosges_. They run almost due north and south: and form a commanding feature of the landscape in every point of view. But for Saverne. It lies, with its fine old castle, at the foot of the pass of these mountains; but the descent to it--is glorious beyond all anticipation! It has been comparatively only of late years that this road, or pass, has been completed. In former times, it was almost impassable. As the descent is rapid and very considerable, the danger attending it is obviated by the high road having been cut into a cork-screw-shape;[202] which presents, at every spiral turn (if I may so speak) something new, beautiful, and interesting. You continue, descending, gazing on all sides. To the right, suspended almost in the air--over a beetling, perpendicular, rocky cliff-- feathered half way up with nut and beech--stands, or rather nods, an old castle in ruins. It seems to shake with every breeze that blows: but there it stands--and has stood--for some four centuries: once the terror of the vassal, and now ... the admiration of the traveller! The castle was, to my eye, of all castles which I had seen, the most elevated in its situation, and the most difficult of access. The clouds of heaven seemed to be resting upon its battlements. But what do I see yonder? "Is it the top of the spire of Strasbourg Cathedral?" "It _is,_ Sir," replied the postilion. I pulled off my travelling cap, by way of doing homage; and as I looked at my watch, to know the precise time, found it was just ten o'clock. It was worth making a minute of. Yet, owing to the hills before--or rather to those beyond, on the other side of the Rhine, which are very much loftier--the first impression gives no idea of the extraordinary height of the spire. We continued to descend, slowly and cautiously, with _Saverne_ before us in the bottom. To the left, close to the road side, stands an obelisk: on which is fixed, hi gilt letters, this emphatic inscription: _ALSATIA._ Every thing, on reaching the level road, bespoke a distinct national character. It was clear that we had forsaken French costume, as well as the French language, among the common people: so obvious is it, as has been remarked to me by a Strasbourgeois, that "mountains, and not rivers, are the natural boundaries of countries." The women wore large, flat, straw hats, with a small rose at the bottom of a shallow crown; while their throats were covered, sometimes up to the mouth, with black, silk cravats. Their hair was platted, hanging down in two equal divisions. The face appeared to be flat. The men wore shovel hats, of which the front part projected to a considerable distance; and the perpetually recurring response of "_yaw yaw_"--left it beyond all doubt that we had taken leave of the language of "the polite nation." At length we reached Saverne, and changed horses. This town is large and bustling, and is said to contain upwards of four thousand inhabitants. We did not stop to examine any of its wonders or its beauties; for we were becoming impatient for Strasbourg. The next two intermediate post towns were _Wasselonne_ and _Ittenheim_--and thence to Strasbourg: the three posts united being about ten leagues. From Ittenheim we darted along yet more swiftly than before. The postilion, speaking in a germanised French accent, told us, that "we were about to visit one of the most famous cities in the world--and _such_ a CATHEDRAL!" The immediate approach to Strasbourg is flat and uninteresting; nor could I, in every possible view of the tower of the cathedral, bring myself to suppose it--what it is admitted to be--the _loftiest ecclesiastical edifice in the world_! The fortifications about Strasbourg are said to afford one of the finest specimens of the skill of Vauban. They may do so; but they are very flat, tame, and unpicturesque. We now neared the barriers: delivered our passports; and darted under the first large brick arched way. A devious paved route brought us to the second gate;--and thus we entered the town; desiring the post-boy to drive to the _Hôtel de l'Esprit_. "You judge wisely, Sir, (replied he) for there is no Hotel, either in France or Germany, like it." So saying, he continued, without the least intermission, to make circular flourishes with his whip--accompanied by such ear-piercing sounds, as caused every inhabitant to gaze at us. I entreated him to desist; but in vain. "The English always enter in this manner," said he-- and having reached the hotel, he gave _one_ super-eminent flourish--which threw him off his balance, and nearly brought him to the ground. When I paid him, he pleaded hard for an _extra five sous_ for this concluding flourish! I am now therefore safely and comfortably lodged in this spacious hotel, by the side of the river _Ill_--of which it is pleasing to catch the lingering breezes as they stray into my chamber. God bless you. * * * * * P.S. One thing I cannot help adding--perhaps hardly deserving of a postscript. All the way from Paris to Strasbourg, I am persuaded that we did not meet _six_ travelling equipages. The lumbering diligence and steady Poste Royale were almost the only vehicles in action besides our own. Nor were _villas_ or _chateaux_ visible; such as, in our own country, enliven the scene and put the traveller in spirits. [200] A folio volume, printed at St. Nicolas, a neighbouring village, in 1518. It is a poem, written in Latin hexameter verse by P. Blaru [P. de Blarrovivo]--descriptive of the memorable siege of Nancy in 1476, by CHARLES THE RASH, Duke of Burgundy: who perished before the walls. His death is described in the sixth book, _sign_. t. iiij: the passage relating to it, beginning "Est in Nanceijs aratro locus utilis aruis:" A wood cut portrait of the commanding French general, Renet, is in the frontispiece. A good copy of this interesting work should always grace the shelves of an historical collector. Brunet notices a copy of it UPON VELLUM, in some monastic library in Lorraine. [Three days have not elapsed, since I saw a similar copy in the possession of Messrs. Payne and Foss, destined for the Royal Library at Paris. A pretty, rather than a magnificent, book.] [201] See page 362. [202] When this 'chaussée,' or route royale, was completed, it was so admired, that the ladies imitated its cork-screw shape, by pearls arranged spirally in their hair; and this head dress was called _Coiffure à la Saverne_. _LETTER XIII._ STRASBOURG. ESTABLISHMENT OF THE PROTESTANT RELIGION. THE CATHEDRAL. THE PUBLIC LIBRARY. _Hôtel de l'Esprit, July 26, 1818_. MY DEAR FRIEND; It is Sunday; and scarcely half an hour ago, I heard, from a Lutheran church on the other side of the water, what I call good, hearty, rational psalm-singing: without fiddles or trombones or serpents. Thus, although considerably further from home, I almost fancied myself in old England. This letter will touch chiefly upon topics of an antiquarian cast, but of which I venture to anticipate your approbation; because I have long known your attachment to the history of ALSACE--and that you have Schoepflin's admirable work[203] upon that country almost at your finger's ends. The city of Strasbourg encloses within its walls a population of about fifty thousand souls. I suspect, however, that in former times its population was more numerous. At this present moment there are about two hundred-and fifty streets, great and small; including squares and alleys. The main streets, upon the whole, are neither wide nor narrow; but to a stranger they have a very singular appearance, from the windows being occasionally covered, on the outside, with _iron bars_, arranged after divers fashions. This gives them a very prison-like effect, and is far from being ornamental. The glazing of the windows is also frequently very curious. In general, the panes of glass are small, and circular, confined in leaden casements. The number of houses in Strasbourg is estimated at three thousand five hundred. There are not fewer than forty-seven bridges in the interior of the town. These cross the branches of the rivers _Ill_ and _Bruche_--which empty themselves into the _Rhine_. The fortifications of Strasbourg are equally strong and extensive; but they assumed formerly a more picturesque, if not a more powerful aspect.[204] There are _seven parishes_; of which four are catholic, and three protestant. This brings me to lay before you a brief outline of the rise and progress of PROTESTANTISM in this place. Yet, as a preliminary remark, and as connected with our mutual antiquarian pursuits, you are to know that, besides parish churches, there were formerly _fourteen convents_, exclusively of chapelries. All these are minutely detailed in the recent work of M. Hermann,[205] from which indeed I have gleaned the chief of the foregoing particulars. A great many of these convents were suppressed in the sixteenth century, upon the establishment of the protestant religion. But for a brief outline of the rise and progress of this establishment. It must indeed be brief; but if so, it shall at least be clear and faithful. The forerunner of Luther (in my opinion) was JOHN GEYLER; a man of singular intrepidity of head and heart. He was a very extraordinary genius, unquestionably; and the works which he has bequeathed to posterity evince the variety of his attainments. Geyler preached boldly in the cathedral against the lax manners and doubtful morality of the clergy. He exhorted the magistrates to do their duty, and predicted that there must be an alteration of religious worship ere the general morals of the community could be amended. They preserve a stone chair or pulpit, of very curious workmanship, but which had nearly been destroyed during the Revolution, in which Geyler used to deliver his lectures. He died in 1510; and within a dozen years after his death the doctrines of LUTHER, were sedulously inculcated. The ground had been well prepared for such seed. The court of Rome looked on with uneasiness; and the Pope sent a legate to Strasbourg in 1522, to vent his anathemas, and to raise a strong party against the growth of this new heresy--as it was called. At this time, the reformed doctrine was even taught in the cathedral; and, a more remarkable thing to strike the common people, the RECTOR of the church of St. Thomas (the second religious establishment of importance, after that of the cathedral) VENTURED TO MARRY! He was applauded both by the common people and by many of the more respectable families. His example was followed: and the religious of both sexes were allowed to leave their establishments, to go where they would, and to enter upon the married state. In 1530 the mass was generally abolished: and the protestant religion was constantly exercised in the cathedral. The spirit both of Geyler and of Luther might have rejoiced to find, in 1550, the chapter of St. Thomas resolutely avowing its determination to perform the protestant--and nothing but the protestant--religion within its own extensive establishment. The flame of the new religion seemed now to have reached all quarters, and warmed all hearts. But a temporary check to its progress was given by the cautious policy of Charles V. That wary and heartless monarch (who had even less religion than he had of the ordinary feelings of humanity) interfered with the weight of his power, and the denunciations of his vengeance. Yet he found it necessary neither wholly to suppress, nor wholly to check, the progress of the protestant religion: while, on the other hand, the Strasbourgeois dreaded too much the effects of his power to dispute his will by any compact or alliance of opposition. In 1550, therefore, the matter stood thus. The cathedral, and the collegiate and parish churches of St. Peter the Elder and St. Peter the Younger, as well as the Oratory of all Saints, adopted the _catholic_ form of worship. The other parish churches adopted that of the _protestant_. Yet in 1559 there happened such a serious affray in the cathedral church itself--between the Catholics and Protestants--as taught the former the obvious necessity of conceding as much as possible to the latter. It followed, that, towards the end of the same century, there were, in the cathedral chapter, _seventeen protestant_, and _eight catholic_ canons. Among the _latter_, however, was the celebrated Cardinal de Lorraine:--one of the most powerful, the most furious, and the most implacable of the enemies of Protestantism. The part he took in the massacre of St. Bartholomew's day, consigns his name to everlasting ignominy and detestation. In 1610 a league was formed for the adjustment of the differences between the Catholics and Protestants: but the unfortunate thirty years war breaking out in 1618, and desolating nearly the whole of Germany, prevented the permanent consolidation of the interests of either party. All this time Strasbourg was under the power, as it even now speaks the language, and partakes of the customs and manners, of GERMANY: but its very situation rendered it the prey of both the contending powers of Germany and France. At length came the memorable, and as I suspect treacherous, surrender of Strasbourg to the arms of Louis XIV, in September 1681; when the respective rights and privileges of the Catholics and Protestants were placed upon a definite footing: although, before this event, the latter had considerably the ascendancy. These rights were endeavoured to be shaken by the revocation of the edict of Nantes in 1685--not however before the Jesuits had been striving to warp the feelings of the latter in favour of the former. The catholic religion was, by the articles of the surrender of the city, established in the cathedral, in the subordinate churches of St. Peter the Elder and St. Peter the Younger, and in the Oratory of All Saints: and it has continued to be exercised pretty much in the same proportion unto this day. The majority of the inhabitants are however decidedly Protestants. Such is a succinct, but I believe not unfaithful, account of the establishment of the PROTESTANT RELIGION at Strasbourg. This subject therefore naturally brings me to notice the principal _Temple of Worship_ in which the rites of either religion seem, for a long time, to have been alternately exercised; and this temple can be no other than _the Minster_--or, as we should say, the _Cathedral._ Ere I assume the office of the historian, let me gratify my inclinations as a spectator. Let me walk round this stupendous structure. At this moment, therefore, consider me as standing in full gaze before its west front--from which the tower springs. This tower seems to reach to heaven. Indeed the whole front quite overwhelms you with alternate emotions of wonder and delight. Luckily there is some little space before it, in which trees have been recently planted; and where (as I understand) the fruit and vegetable market is held. At the further end of this space in approaching the Cathedral, and in running the eye over the whole front, the first thing that strikes you is, the red or copperas colour of the stone--which I presume to be a species of sand stone. This gives a sort of severe metallic effect. However you are riveted to the spot wherein you command the first general survey of this unparalleled front. The delicacy, the finish, the harmonious intricacy, and faery-like lightness, of the whole--even to the summit of the spire;--which latter indeed has the appearance of filigree work, raised by enchantment, and through the interstices of which the bright blue sky appears with a lustre of which you have no conception in England--all this, I say, perfectly delights and overwhelms you. You want words to express your ideas, and the extent of your gratification. You feel convinced that the magnificent edifice before you seems to be the _ne plus ultra_ of human skill in ornamental gothic architecture. Undoubtedly one regrets here, as at Antwerp, the absence of a corresponding tower; but you are to form your judgment upon what is _actually_ before you, and, at the same time, to bear in mind that this tower and spire--for it partakes of both characters--is full _four hundred and seventy four_ English feet in height![206]--and, consequently, some twenty or thirty feet only lower than the top of St. Peter's at Rome. One is lost in astonishment, on bearing such an altitude in mind, considering the delicacy of the spire. There is no place fitting for a satisfactory view of it, within its immediate vicinity.[207] This western front, or facade, is divided into three stages or compartments. The bottom or lower one is occupied by three magnificent porches; of which the central is by far the loftiest and most ornamental. The period of their execution is from the year 1270 to 1320: a period, when gothic architecture was probably at its highest pitch of perfection. The central porch is divided into five compartments on each side--forming an angle of about forty-five degrees with the door-way. The lower parts of these divisions contain each a statue, of the size of life, upon its respective pediment. The upper parts, which blend with the arch-like construction, are filled with small statues, upon pediments, having a sort of brilliant, fretted appearance. All these figures are representations of characters in Scripture. Again, above this archway, forming the central ornaments of the sharper angles, are the figures of the Almighty, the Virgin and Child, and Solomon. In front, above the door way, upon a flat surface, are four sculptured compartments; devoted to scriptural subjects. The same may be said of the right and left porch. They are equally elaborate, and equally devoted to representations of scriptural subjects. They will have it, that, according to tradition, the daughter of Ervin de Steinbach, the chief architect of the western front, worked a great deal at this central porch, and even sculptured several of the figures. However this may be, the _tout ensemble_ is really beyond any thing which could be satisfactorily conveyed by a written description. We now cast our eye upon the second division of this stupendous facade; and here our attention is almost exclusively devoted to the enormous circular or marygold window, in the central compartment. It is filled with stained glass--and you are to know that the circumference of the outer circle is one hundred and sixty-English feet: or about fifty-three feet in diameter; and I challenge you to shew me the like--in any building of which you have any knowledge! Perhaps the most wonderful part of this structure is the open filigree work of the tower, immediately above the platform: though I admit that the _spiral_ part is exceedingly curious and elaborate. Of course there was no examining such a wonder without mounting to the platform, and ascending the tower itself. The platform is about three hundred feet from the pavement. We quitted this tenement, and walked straight forward upon the platform. What a prospect was before us. There flowed the RHINE! I felt an indescribable joy on my first view of that majestic river. There it flowed ... broad and rapid ... and apparently peaceful, within its low banks. On the other, or eastern side of it, was a range of lofty hills, of a mountainous character. On the opposite side of the town ran the great chain of hills--called the VOSGES--which we had crossed in our route hither; and of which we had now a most extensive and unobstructed view. These hills were once the abode of adventurous chieftains and powerful nobles; and there was scarcely an eminence but what had been formerly crowned by a baronial castle.[208] Below, appeared the houses of Strasbourg ... shrunk to rabbit-hutches--and the people ... to emmets! It remained to ascend the opposite tower. At each of the four corners there is a spiral stair-case, of which the exterior is open work, consisting of slender but lofty pillars; so that the ascending figure is seen at every convolution. It has a fearful appearance to the adventurer: but there is scarcely the possibility of danger. You go round and round, and observe three distinct terminations of the central work within--forming three roofs--of which, the _third_ is eminently beautiful. I could not help expressing my astonishment at some of the exterior columns, which could not be much less than threescore feet in height, and scarcely twelve inches in diameter! Having gained the top of one of these corner spiral stair-cases, I breathed and looked around me. A new feature presented itself to my view. About one hundred feet beneath, was the body of this huge cathedral. Immediately above, rose the beautifully-tapering and curiously ornamented SPIRE--to the height of probably, one hundred and twenty-five feet! It seemed indeed as if both tower and spire were direct ladders to the sky. The immortal artist who constructed them, and who lived to witness the completion of his structure, was JOAN HÜLTZ, a native of Cologne. The date of their completion is 1449. Thus, on the continent as well as in England, the period of the most florid style of gothic architecture was during the first half of the fifteenth century. I essayed to mount to the very pinnacle; or _bouton_ of the spire; but the ascent was impracticable--owing to the stair-case being under repair. On the summit of this spire, there once stood a _statue of the Virgin,_ above a cross. That statue was taken down at the end of the fifteenth century, and is now placed over the south porch. But, what do you think supplied its place during the late Revolution, or in the year of our Lord 1794, on the 4th day of May? Truly, nothing less than a large cap, made of tin, and painted red--called the _Cap of Liberty!_ Thank heaven, this latter was pulled down in due time--and an oblong diamond-shaped stone is now the finishing piece of masonry of this wonderful building. In descending, I stopped again at the platform, and was requested to see the GREAT BELL; of which I had heard the deep-mouthed roar half a dozen times a day, since my arrival. It is perhaps the finest toned bell in Europe, and appeared to me terrifically large--being nearer eight than seven feet high.[209] They begin to toll it at four or five o'clock in the summer-mornings, to announce that the gates of the town are opened. In case of fire at night, it is very loudly tolled; and during a similar accident in the day time, they suspend a pole, with a red flag at the end of it, over that part of the platform which is in a line with the direction of the fire. A grand defect in the structure of this Cathedral, as it strikes me, is, that the nave and transepts do not seem to belong to such a western front. They sink into perfect insignificance. Nor is the style of their exterior particularly deserving of description. Yet there is _one_ feature in the external architecture of this Cathedral--namely, a series or suite of DROLLERIES ... of about four or five feet high ... which cannot fail to attract the antiquary's especial notice. These figures are coarsely but spiritedly cut in stone. They are placed upon the bracket which supports the galleries, or balcony, of the eastern side of the facade of the tower, and are about sixty-five English feet from the ground. They extend to thirty-two feet in length. Through the kind offices of my friend Mr. Schweighæuser, junior, (of whom by and by) I have obtained drawings of these droll subjects,[210] and I am sure that, in common with many of our friends, you will be amused with the sight of a few of them. They are probably of the date of 1370; [Illustration] [Illustration] The common people call this series the _Sabbath of Demons,_ or _the Dance of the Witches_. You are to know, however, that on the opposite side of the cathedral there is a series of figures, of the same size, and executed nearly in the same style of art, descriptive of scriptural events, mixed with allegorical subjects. Having now pointed out what appears to me to be chiefly interesting in the _exterior_ of this marvellous building, it is right that I give you some notion of its _interior_: which will however occupy but a short portion of your attention. Indeed--I grieve to speak it--both the exterior and interior of the _nave_ are wholly unworthy of such a magnificent west-front. The nave and choir together are about three hundred and fifty-five English feet in length; of which the nave is two hundred and forty-four--evidently of too scanty dimensions. The width of the nave and side aisles is one hundred and thirty-two feet: the height of the nave is only seventy-two feet. The larger of the nine clustered columns is full seventy-two feet in circumference; the more delicate, thirty feet. There is really nothing striking in this nave; except that, on turning round, and looking up to the painted glass of the circular or marygold window, you observe the colours of it, which are very rich, and absolutely gay, compared with those of the other windows. There is a profusion of painted glass in almost all the windows; but generally of a sombre tint, and of a correspondent gloomy effect. Indeed, in consequence of this profusion, the cathedral absolutely wants light. The choir is sixty-seven feet wide, without side aisles, and is much lower than the nave. It is impossible to speak of this choir without indignation. My good friend--the whole of this interior has recently undergone rather a martyrdom than a metamorphosis. The sides are almost entirely covered with _Grecian_ pilasters and pillars; and so are the ornaments about the altar. What adds to the wretched effect of the whole, is, a coat of _white-wash_, which was liberally bestowed upon it some forty years ago; and which will require at least the lapse of another century to subdue its staring effect. There are only three chapels in this cathedral. Of _altars_ there are not fewer than twelve: the principal being in the chapels of St. Lawrence and St. Catharine. It was near the chapel of _St. Catharine_, that, on the morning of our first visit, we witnessed a group of country people, apparently from the neighbourhood of _Saverne_--from their huge, broad, flat hats--engaged in devotion before the image of some favourite saint. The rays of a bright sun darted through the windows, softened by the varied tints of the stained glass, upon their singular countenances and costumes; and the effect was irresistibly striking and interesting. In the centre of the south transept, there rises a fine, slender, clustered column, reaching to its very summit. On the exterior of this column--placed one above another, but retreating or advancing, or in full view, according to the position of the spectator--are several figures, chiefly females; probably five feet high, with labels or scrolls, upon each of which is an inscription. I never saw any thing more elegant and more striking of its kind. These figures reach a great way up the pillar--probably to the top-- but at this moment I cannot say decidedly. It is here, too, that the famous Strasbourg _Clock_, (about which one Dasypodius hath published a Latin treatise in a slim quarto volume[211]) is placed. This, and the tower, were called the _two great wonders of Germany_. This clock may be described in few words: premising, that it was preceded by a clock of very extraordinary workmanship, fabricated in the middle of the fourteenth century--of which, the _only_ existing portion is, a _cock_, upon the top of the left perpendicular ornament, which, upon the hourly chiming of the bells, used to flap his wings, stretch out his neck, and crow twice; but being struck by lightning in the year 1640, it lost its power of action and of sending forth sound. No modern skill has been able to make this cock crow, or to shake his wings again. The clock however is now wholly out of order, and should be placed elsewhere. It is very lofty; perhaps twenty feet high: is divided into three parts, of which the central part represents _Our Saviour_ and _Death_, in the middle, each in the act as if to strike a bell. When, in complete order, Death used to come forward to strike the _quarters_; and, having struck them, was instantly repelled by our Saviour. When he came forward to strike the _hour_, our Saviour in turn retreated:-- a whimsical and not very comprehensible arrangement. But old clocks used to be full of these conceits. Upon throwing an eye over what I have just written, I find that I have omitted to notice the celebrated STONE PULPIT, in the nave, enriched with small figures--of the latter end of the fifteenth century. In fact, the date of 1485, in arabic numerals, (if I remember rightly) is at the bottom of it, to the right of the steps. This pulpit, my good friend, is nothing less than the very ecclesiastical rostrum from which the famous _John Geyler_ thundered his anathemas against the monkish clergy. You may remember that some slight notice was taken of it at the beginning of this letter, in which the progress of Protestantism at Strasbourg was attempted to be traced. I will frankly own to you, that, of all pulpits, throughout Normandy, or in Paris--as yet examined by me--I have seen none which approaches to THIS; so rich, varied, and elaborate are its sculptured ornaments.[212] The Revolutionists could only contrive to knock off the figure which was upon the top of the canopy, with other contiguous ornaments; all of which might be easily restored. [Illustration: STONE PULPIT, STRASBOURG CATHEDRAL.] A word now about the great _Organ_. If Strasbourg have been famous for architects, masons, bell-founders, and clock-makers, it has been not less so for organ builders. As early as the end of the thirteenth century, there were several organs in this cathedral: very curious in their structure, and very sonorous in their notes. The present great organ, on the _left side_ of the nave, on entering at the western door, was built by Silbermann about a century-ago: and is placed about fifty feet above the pavement. It has six bellowses, each bellows being twelve feet long and six wide: but they are made to act by a very simple and sure process. The tone is tremendous-- when all the stops are pulled out--as I once heard it, during the performance of a particularly grand chorus! Yet is this tone mellow and pleasing at the same time. Notwithstanding the organ could be hardly less than three hundred feet distant from the musicians in the choir, it sent forth sounds so powerful and grand--as almost to overwhelm the human voice, with the accompaniments of trombones and serpents. Perhaps you will not be astonished at this, when I inform you that it contains not fewer than two thousand two hundred and forty-two pipes. This is not the first time you have heard me commend the organs upon the Continent. One of the most remarkable features belonging to the history of Strasbourg cathedral, is, the number of _shocks of earthquakes_ which have affected the building. It is barely possible to enumerate all these frightful accidents; and still more difficult to give credence to one third of them. They seem to have happened two or three times every century; and, latterly, yet more frequently. Take one recital as a specimen: and believe it--if you can. In the year 1728, so great was the agitation of the earth, that the tower was moved one foot out of its perpendicular direction--but recovered its former position presently. "What however is _quite certain_--(says Grandidier)--the holy water, contained in a stone reservoir or basin, at the bottom of a column, near the pavement, was thrown by this same agitation, to upwards of _half the height of a man_--and to the distance of _eighteen feet!_ The record of this marvellous transaction is preserved in a Latin inscription, on a slab of black marble, fastened to the lower part of the tower, near the platform."[213] In 1744 a severe tempest of thunder and lightning occasioned some serious injuries to portions of the cathedral; but in 1759 it suffered still more from a similar cause. Indeed the havoc among the slighter ornamental parts, including several delicately carved figures, is recorded to have been dreadful. Of the subordinate churches of Strasbourg, the principal, both for size and antiquity, is that of _St. Thomas_. I visited it several times. The exterior is one of the most tasteless jumbles of all styles and ages of art that can be imagined; and a portion of it is covered with brick. But I question if there be not parts much older than the cathedral. The interior compensates somewhat for the barbarism of the outside. It is large and commodious, but sadly altered from its original construction; and has recently been trimmed up and smartened in the true church-warden style. The great boast of this church is its MONUMENTS; which, it must be confessed, are upon the whole exceedingly interesting. As to their antiquity, I noticed two or three of the thirteenth century; but they pretend to run up as high as the tenth. Indeed I saw one inscription of the eleventh century--executed in gothic letters, such as we observe of the latter end of the sixteenth. This could not be a coeval inscription; for I doubt whether there exist, any where, a monumental tablet of the eleventh century executed in _coeval gothic_ letters. The service performed here is after the confession of Augsbourg; in other words, according to the reformed Lutheran church. A small crucifix, placed upon an altar between the nave and the choir, delicately marks this distinction; for Luther, you know, did not wage an interminable war against crucifixes. Of _modern_ monuments, the boast and glory of this church is that of the famous MARSHAL SAXE; who died at the age of 55, in the year 1755. While I was looking very intently at it, the good verger gently put a printed description of it into my hands, on a loose quarto sheet. I trust to be forgiven if I read only its first sentence:--_Cette grande composition réunit aux richesse de l'art des Phidias et des Bouchardon, les traits de la grande poésie._" "Take any shape but this"--thought I to myself--and, folding it up as gently as it had been delivered to me, I put it into my pocket. My good friend, I do beseech you to hear me out--when I preface my remarks by saying, that, of all monuments, _this_ is one of the most tasteless and uninteresting. Listen to a brief but faithful description of it. An immense pyramidal-shaped gray marble forms the background. Upon such a back-ground there might have been a group of a _dozen_ figures at least. However, there happen to be only _four_ of the human species, and three of animals. These human figures are, the Marshal; a woman weeping lustily--I had almost said blubbering; (intended to represent France) Hercules; and a little child--of some order or degree, not less affected than the female. The animals are, a lion, a leopard, (which latter has a bear-like form) and an eagle. I will now tell you what they are all doing. Before the Marshal, is an opened grave; into which this illustrious hero, clad in complete armour, is about to march with a quiet, measured step--as unconcernedly, as if he were descending a flight of steps which led to a conservatory. The woman--that is France--is, in the meantime, weeping aloud; pointing to the grave, and very persuasively intreating the Marshal to enter--as his mortal moments have expired. I should add that death--a large formidable-looking figure, veiled by a piece of drapery, is also at hand: seeming to imply that hesitation and reluctance, on the part of the hero, are equally unavailing. Next comes Hercules; who is represented as stationary, thoughtful, and sorrow-stricken, as France is agitated and in motion. The lion and leopard (one representing Holland, and the other England-- intending to convey the idea that the hero had beaten the armies of both countries) are between the Marshal and Hercules: the leopard is lying upon his back--in a very frolicksome attitude. The lion is also not less abstracted from the general grief of the figures. And this large, ugly, unmeaning composition--they have the temerity to call the union of art by Phidias and Bouchardon--with the inspiration of sublime poetry! I will make no comments.[214] It is one of those _felicitous_ efforts which have the enviable distinction of carrying its own text and commentary. Below this vast mural monument, is a vault, containing the body of the Marshal. I descended into it, and found it well ventilated and dry. The coffin is immediately obvious: it contains the body of the chieftain enclosed in two cases--of which the first is _silver_, and the second _copper_. The heart is, I believe, elsewhere. Forming a strikingly happy contrast to this huge, unmeaning production--are the modest and unassuming monuments of _Schoepflin_, _Oberlin_, and _Koch_: men, of whom Strasbourg has good reason to be proud. Nor let the monument of old _Sebastian Schmidt_ escape the notice and commendation of the pensive observer. These were all "fine fellows in their day:" and died, including the illustrious Marshal, steady in the faith they had espoused-- that is, in the belief and practice of the tenets of the reformed church. I have no time for a particular description of these monuments. Schoepflin's consists of a bronze bust of himself placed in the front of a white marble urn, between two cinnamon-colour columns, of the Corinthian order--of free stone. The head is thought to be very like. Oberlin's is in better taste. You see only his profile, by Ohmacht, in white marble--very striking. The accompaniments are figures in white marble, of which a muse, in rilievo, is larger than life. The inscriptions, both for Schoepflin and Oberlin, are short and simple, and therefore appropriate. The monument of Koch is not less simple. It consists of his bust--about to be crowned with a fillet of oaken leaves--by a figure representing the city of Strasbourg. Below the bust is another figure weeping--and holding beneath its arms, a scroll, upon which the works of the deceased are enumerated. Koch died in his seventy-sixth year, in the year 1813. Ohmacht is also the sculptor of Koch's monument. Upon the whole, I am not sure that I have visited any church, since the cathedral of Rouen, of which the interior is more interesting, on the score of monuments, than that of St. Thomas at Strasbourg. I do not know that it is necessary to say any thing about the old churches of St. Stephen and St. Martin: except that the former is supposed to be the most ancient. It was built of stone, and said to be placed upon a spot in which was a Roman fort--the materials of which served for a portion of the present building. St. Martin's was erected in 1381 upon a much finer plan than that of _St. Arbogaste_--which is said to have been built in the middle of the twelfth century. Among the churches, now no longer _wholly_ appropriated to sacred uses, is that called the _New Temple_--attached to which is the Public Library. The service in this church is according to the Protestant persuasion. I say this Church is not _wholly_ devoted to religious rites: for what was once the _choir_, contains, at bottom, the BOOKS belonging to the public University; and, at top, those which were bequeathed to the same establishment by Schoepflin. The general effect-- both from the pavement below, and the gallery above--is absolutely transporting. Shall I tell you wherefore? This same ancient choir--now devoted to _printed tomes_--contains some lancet-shaped windows of _stained glass_ of the most beautiful and exquisite pattern and colours!... such as made me wholly forget those at _Toul_, and _almost_ those at _St. Owen_. Even the stained glass of the cathedral, here, was recollected... only to suffer by the comparison! It should seem that the artist had worked with alternate dissolutions of amethyst, topaz, ruby, garnet, and emerald. Look at the first three windows, to the left on entering, about an hour before sun-set:--they seem to fill the whole place with a preternatural splendor! The pattern is somewhat of a Persian description, and I should apprehend the antiquity of the workmanship to be scarcely exceeding three hundred years. Yet I must be allowed to say, that these exquisitely sparkling, if not unrivalled, specimens of stained glass, do not belong to a place now _wholly_ occupied by _books_. Could they not be placed in the chapel of St. Lawrence, or of St. Catharine, in the cathedral? As I am now at the close of my account of ecclesiastical edifices--and as this last church happens to be closely connected with a building of a different description--namely, The PUBLIC LIBRARY--you will allow me to _colophonise_ my first Strasbourg epistle with some account of the _contents_ of this library. The amiable and excellent younger Schweighæuser, who is head librarian, and one of the Professors in this Gymnase, was so obliging as to lend me the key of the library, to which I had access at all hours of the day. The public hours are from two till four, Sundays excepted. I own that this accommodation was extremely agreeable and convenient to me. I was under no restraint, and thus left to my own conscience alone not to abuse the privilege conceded. That conscience has never given me one "prick" since the conclusion of my researches.[215] My researches were usually carried on above stairs, at the table where the visitors sat. Of the MSS. I did not deem it worth while to take any particular account; but there was _one_, so choice, so splendid, so curious, so interesting, and in such an extraordinary state of preservation, that you may as well know it is called the famous _Hortus Deliciarum_ of _Herarde, Abbess of Landsberg_. The subjects are miscellaneous; and most elaborately represented by illuminations. Battles, sieges, men tumbling from ladders which reach to the sky--conflagrations, agriculture--devotion, penitence--revenge, murder,--in short, there is hardly a passion, animating the human breast, but what is represented here. The figures in armour have _nasals_, and are in quilted mail: and I think there can be little doubt but that both the text and the decorations are of the latter end of the twelfth century. It is so perfect in all its parts, and so rich of its particular description, that it not only well merits the labour which has been bestowed upon it by its recent editor Mr. Engleheardt, but it may probably vie with any similar production in Europe.[216] However, of other MSS. you will I am sure give me credit for having examined the celebrated _Depositions in the law-suit between Fust and Gutemberg_--so intimately connected with the history of early printing, and so copiously treated upon by recent bibliographers.[217] I own that I inspected these depositions (in the German language) with no ordinary curiosity. They are doubtless most precious; yet I cannot help suspecting that the _character_ or letter is _not_ of the time; namely of 1440. It should rather seem to be of the sixteenth century. Perhaps at the commencement of it. These documents are written in a small folio volume, in one uniform hand--a kind of law-gothic--from beginning to end. The volume has the following title on the exterior; "_Dicta Testium magni consilij Anno dni m^o. cccc^o. Tricesimo nono_. The paper is strong and thick, and has a pair of scales for the water-mark. The younger Schweighæuser thinks my doubts about its age not well founded; conceiving it to be a coeval document. But this does not affect its authenticity, as it may have been an accurate and attested copy--of an original which has now perished. Certainly the whole book has very much the air of a _Copy_: and besides, would not the originals have been upon separate rolls of parchment?[218] I now come to the PRINTED BOOKS: of which, according to the MS. catalogue by Oberlin, (who was head librarian here) there are not fewer _than four thousand three hundred, printed before the year 1520_:--and of these, again, upwards of _eleven hundred without dates_. This, at first hearing, sounds, what the curious would call, promising; but I must say, that of the _dated_ and _dateless_ books, printed before the year 1500, which I took down, and carefully opened--and this number could not be less than four or five hundred--there was scarcely one in five which repaid the toil of examination: and this too, with a thermometer frequently standing at eighty-nine and ninety, in the shade in the open air! Fortunately for my health, and for the exertion of physical strength, the public library happened to be very cool--while all the windows were opened, and through the openings was frequently heard the sound of young voices, practising the famous _Martin Luther's Hymn_--as it is called. This latter was particularly grateful to me. I heard the master first sing a stave, and he was in general accurately followed by his pupils--who displayed the well-known early tact of Germans in the science of music. But to revert to the early printed books. FIRST GERMAN BIBLE; supposed to have been _printed by Mentelin_; without date: Folio. Towards the latter half of this copy, there are some interesting embellishments, in outline, in a bistre tint. The invention and execution of many of them are admirable. Where they are _coloured_, they lose their proper effect. An illumination, at the beginning of the book of _Esther_, bears the unequivocal date of 1470: but the edition was certainly four or five years earlier. This Bible is considered to be the earliest German version: but it is not so. LATIN BIBLE, BY MENTELIN: in his second character. This Bible I saw for the first time; but Panzer is decidedly wrong in saying that the types resemble the larger ones in Mentelin's _Valerius Maximus_, _Virgil_ and _Terence_: they may be nearly as tall, but are not so broad and large. From a ms. note, the 402d leaf appears to be wanting. This copy is a singularly fine one. It is white, and large, and with rough edges throughout. It is also in its first binding, of wood. LATIN BIBLE; _printed by Eggesteyn_. Here are several editions, and a duplicate of the first--which is printed in the second smallest character of Eggesteyn.[219] The two copies of this first edition are pretty much alike for size and condition: but _one_ of them, with handsome illuminations at the beginning of each volume, has the precious coeval ms. date of 1468--as represented by the fac-simile of it in _Schoepflin's Vind. Typog. Tab. V._ Probably the date of the printing might have been at least a year earlier. LATIN BIBLE: _printed by Jenson_, 1479. Folio. A fine copy, upon paper. The first page is illuminated. To this list of impressions of the SACRED TEXT, may be added a fine copy of the SCLAVONIAN BIBLE of 1584, folio, with wood cuts, and another of the HUNGARIAN Bible of 1626, folio: the latter in double columns, with a crowdedly-printed margin, and an engraved frontispiece. As to books upon miscellaneous subjects, I shall lay before you, without any particular order, my notes of the following: Of the _Speculum Morale_ of P. Bellovacensis, here said to be printed by Mentelin in 1476, in double columns, roman type, folio--there is a copy, in one volume, of tremendously large dimensions; as fine, clean, and crackling as possible. Also a copy of the _Speculum Judiciale_ of Durandus, _printed at Strasbourg by Hussner and Rekenhub_, in 1473, folio. Hussner was a citizen of Strasbourg, and his associate a priest at Mentz. Here is also a perfect copy of the Latin PTOLEMY, of the supposed date of 1462, with a fine set of the copper-plates. But I must make distinct mention of a _Latin Chronicle, printed by Gotz de Sletztat_ in 1474, in folio. It is executed in a coarse, large gothic type, with many capital roman letters. At the end of the alphabetical index of 35 leaves, we read as follows: DEO GRATIAS. _A tpe ade vsqz ad annos cristi 1474 Acta et gesta hic suffitienter nuclient Sola spes mea. In virginis gracia Nicholaus Gotz. De Sletzstat._ The preceding is on the recto; on the reverse of the same leaf is an account of Inventors of _arts_: no mention is made of that of _printing_. Then the prologue to the Chronicle, below which is the device of Gotz;[220] having his name subjoined. The text of the Chronicle concludes at page CCLXXX--printed numerals--with an account of an event which took place in the year 1470. But the present copy contains another, and the concluding leaf--which may be missing in some copies--wherein there is a particular notice of a splendid event which took place in 1473, between Charles Duke of Burgundy, and Frederick the Roman Emperor, with Maximilian his Son; together with divers dukes, earls, and counts attending. The text of this leaf ends thus; _SAVE GAIRT VIVE BVRGVND._ Below, within a circle, "Sixtus quartus." This work is called, in a ms. prefix, the _Chronicle of Foresius_. I never saw, or heard of, another copy. The present is fine and sound; and bound in wood, covered with leather. Here are two copies of St. _Jerom's Epistles, printed by Schoeffher_ in 1470; of which that below stairs is one of the most magnificent imaginable; in two folio volumes. Hardly any book can exceed, and few equal it, in size and condition--unless it be the theological works of ARCHBISHOP ANTONIUS, _printed by Koeberger_, in 1477, in one enormous folio volume. As a specimen of Koeberger's press, I am unable at the present moment to mention any thing which approaches it. I must also notice a copy of the _Speculum Humanæ Salvationis, printed at Basle, by Richel_, in 1476, folio. It is a prodigious volume, full of wood cuts, and printed in double columns in a handsome gothic type. This work seems to be rather a _History of the Bible_; having ten times the matter of that which belongs to the work with this title usually prefixed. The copy is in its original wooden binding. JUNIANUS MAIUS. _De Propriet. Priscor. Verborum, printed at Treviso by Bernard de Colonia_, 1477, folio. I do not remember to have before seen any specimen of this printer's type: but what he has done here, is sufficient to secure for him typographical immortality. This is indeed a glorious copy--perfectly large paper--of an elegantly printed book, in a neat gothic type, in double columns. The first letter of the text is charmingly illuminated. I shall conclude these miscellaneous articles by the notice of two volumes, in the list of ROMANCES, of exceedingly rare occurrence. These romances are called _Tyturell_ and _Partzifal_. The author of them was _Wolfram von Escenbach_. They are each of the date of 1477, in folio. The Tyturell is printed prose-wise, and the Partzifal in a metrical form. We now come to the Roman CLASSICS, (for of the Greek there are _few or none_)--before the year 1500. Let me begin with _Virgil_. Here is _Mentelin's_ very rare edition; but cropt, scribbled upon, and wanting several leaves. However, there is a most noble and perfect copy of Servius's Commentary upon the same poet, _printed by Valdarfer_ in 1471, folio, and bound in primitive boards. There are two perfect copies of _Mentelin's_ edition (which is the first) of VALERIUS MAXIMUS, of which one is wormed and cropt. The _other_ Mentelin copy of the Valerius Maximus, without the Commentary, is perhaps the largest I ever saw--with the ancient ms. signatures at the bottom-corners of the leaves. Unluckily, the margins are rather plentifully charged with ms. memoranda. Of CICERO, there are of course numerous early editions. I did not see the _De Officiis_ of 1465, or of 1466, of which Hermann speaks, and to which he affixes the _novel_ date of 1462:--but I did see the _De Oratore_, printed by _Vindelin de Spira_ without date; and _such_ a copy I shall probably never see again! The colour and substance of the paper are yet more surprising than the size. It is hardly possible to see a finer copy of the _Scriptores Hist. Augustæ, printed by P. de Lavagna_ in 1475, folio. It possesses all the legitimate evidences of pristine condition, and is bound in its first coat of oak. Here is a very fine copy of the _Plutarchi Vitæ Paralellæ_, printed in the letter R, in two large folio volumes, bound in wood, covered by vellum of the sixteenth century. But, if of _any_ book, it is of the first edition of _Catullus Tibullus et Propertius_, of 1472, folio--that this Library has just reason to be proud. Here are in fact _two_ copies, equally sound, pure and large: but in _one_ the _Propertius_ is wanting;[221] in lieu of which, however, there is the first edition of JUVENAL and PERSIUS by V. de Spira-- in equal purity of condition. The perfect copy has the SYLVÆ of STATIUS subjoined. It should seem, therefore, that the Juvenal and Persius had supplied the place of the Propertius and Statius, in one copy. You are well aware of the extreme rarity of this first edition of Catullus Tibullus et Propertius. I now take leave of the _Public Library of Strasbourg_; not however without mentioning rather an amusing anecdote connected with some of the books just described; nor without an observation or two upon the present state of the library. The anecdote is thoroughly bibliographical. After having examined some of the finer books before mentioned, and especially having dwelt upon the Latin Bible of Mentelin, and a few copies of the rarer Classics, I ventured to descant upon the propriety of _parting_ with those for which there was _no use_, and which, without materially strengthening their own collection, might, by an advantageous sale, enable them to enrich their collection by valuable modern books: of which they obviously stood in _need_. I then proposed so many hundred francs, for such and such volumes. Messrs. Schweighæuser, jun. Dahler, and several other professors were standing round me--when I made this proposition. On the conclusion of it, professor Dahler put his hand upon my shoulder--stooped down--(for I was sitting the whole time)--and looking half archly, replied thus: "Monsieur le Bibliographe, vous raisonnez bien: mais--nous conserverons nos anciens livres." These sturdy conservators were not to be shaken; and none but _duplicates_ were to be parted with.[222] The next observation relates to the collection. Never did a collection stand in greater need of being weeded. There are medical books sufficient to supply six copies for the library of every castellated mansion along the Vosges[223]--should any of them ever be repaired and put in order. Schoepflin's library furnishes many duplicates both in history and theology; and in _Classics_ they should at least make good their series of the more important _first Editions_. The want of a perfect _Virgil_ by _Mentelin_, and the want of a _first Terence_, by the same printer--their boasted townsman--are reproachful wants. At any rate, they should not let slip any opportunity of purchasing the first _Ovid, Horace, Ausonius_, and _Lucretius_. No man is more deeply impressed with a conviction of these wants, than the present chief librarian, the younger Schweighæuser; but, unfortunately, the pecuniary means of supplying them are slender indeed. I find this to be the case wherever I go. The deficiency of funds, for the completion of libraries, may however be the cry of _other_ countries besides _France_. As to booksellers, for the sale of modern works, and for doing, what is called "a great stroke of business," there is no one to compare with the house of TREUTTEL and WÜRTZ--of which firm, as you may remember, very honourable mention was made in one of my latter letters from Paris. Their friendly attention and hospitable kindness are equal to their high character as men of business. It was frequently in their shop that I met with some of the savants of Strasbourg; and among them, the venerable and amiable LICHTENBERGER, author of that very judicious and pains taking compilation entitled _Initia Typographica_. I was also introduced to divers of the learned, whose names I may be pardoned for having forgotten. The simplicity of character, which here marks almost every man of education, is not less pleasing than profitable to a traveller who wishes to make himself acquainted with the literature of the country through which he passes. [203] _Alsatia Illustrata_, 1751-61, folio, two volumes. [204] In the middle of the fifteenth century there were not fewer than nine principal gates of entrance: and above the walls were built, at equal distances, fifty-five towers--surmounted, in turn, by nearly thirty towers of observation on the exterior of the walls. But in the beginning of the sixteenth century, from the general adoption of gunpowder in the art of war, a different system of defence was necessarily adopted; and the number of these towers was in consequence diminished. At present there are none. They are supplied by bastions and redoubts, which answer yet better the purposes of warfare. [205] This work is entitled "_Notices Historiques, Statistiques et Littéraires, sur la Ville de Strasbourg_." 1817, 8vo. A second volume, published in 1819, completes it. A more judicious, and, as I learn, faithful compilation, respecting the very interesting city of which it treats, has not yet been published. [206] I had before said 530 English feet; but a note in M. Crapelet's version (supplied, as I suspect, by my friend M. Schweighæuser,) says, that from recent strict trigonometrical measurement, it is 437 French feet in height. [207] The _Robertsau_, about three quarters of a mile from Strasbourg, is considered to be the best place for a view of the cathedral. The Robertsau is a well peopled and well built suburb. It consists of three nearly parallel streets, composed chiefly of houses separated by gardens--the whole very much after the English fashion. In short, these are the country houses of the wealthier inhabitants of Strasbourg; and there are upwards of seventy of them, flanked by meadows, orchards, or a fruit or kitchen garden. It derives the name of _Robertsau_ from a gentleman of the name of _Robert,_ of the ancient family of _Bock_. He first took up his residence there about the year 1200, and was father of twenty children. Consult _Hermann_; vol. i. p. 209. [208] "The engineer Specklin, who, in order to complete his MAP of ALSACE, traversed the whole chain of the VOSGES, estimates the number of these castles at little short of _two hundred_: and pushes the antiquity of some of them as far back as the time of the Romans." See _Hermann_; vol. i. p. 128, note 20: whose compressed account of a few of these castellated mansions is well worth perusal, I add this note, from something like a strong persuasion, that, should it meet the eye of some enterprising and intelligent English antiquary, it may stimulate him--within the waning of two moons from reading it, provided those moons be in the months of Spring--to put his equipage in order for a leisurely journey along the VOSGES! [209] This was formerly called the bell of the HOLY GHOST. It was cast in 1427, by John Gremp of Strasbourg. It cost 1300 florins; and weighs eighty quintals;, or 8320 lb.: nearly four tons. It is twenty-two French feet in circumference, and requires six men to toll it. In regard to the height, I must not be supposed to speak from absolute data. Yet I apprehend that its altitude is not much over-rated. Grandidier has quite an amusing chapter (p. 241, &c.) upon the thirteen bells which are contained in the tower of this cathedral. [210] It was necessary, on the part of my friend, to obtain the consent of the Prefect to make these drawings. A moveable scaffold was constructed, which was suspended from the upper parts--and in this _nervous_ situation the artist made his copies--of the size of the foregoing cuts. The expense of the scaffold, and of making the designs, was very inconsiderable indeed. The worthy Prefect, or Mayor, was so obliging as to make the scaffold a mere gratuitous affair; six francs only being required for the men to drink! [Can I ever forget, or think slightly of, such kindness? Never.] Cicognara, in his _Storia della Scultura_, 1813, folio, has given but a very small portion of the above dance; which was taken from the upper part of a neighbouring house. It is consequently less faithful and less complete. [In the preceding edition of this work, there are not fewer than _eleven_ representations of these Drolleries.] [211] I think this volume is of the date of 1580. CONRAD DASYPODIUS was both the author of the work, and the chief mechanic or artisan employed in making the clock--about which he appears to have taken several journeys to employ, and to consult with, the most clever workmen in Germany. The wheels and movements were made by the two HABRECHTS, natives of Schaffhausen. [212] [The Reader may form some notion of its beauty and elaboration of ornament, from the OPPOSITE PLATE: taken from a print published about a century and a half ago.] [213] See Grandidier, p. 177: where the Latin inscription is given. The _Ephémérides de l'Académie des Curieux de la Nature_, vol. ii. p. 400, &c. are quoted by this author--as a contemporaneous authority in support of the event above mentioned. [214] My French translator will have it, that, "this composition, though not without its faults, is considered, in the estimation of all connoisseurs, as one of the finest funereal monuments which the modern chisel has produced." It may be, in the estimation of _some_--but certainly of a _very small_ portion of--Connoisseurs of first rate merit. Our Chantry would sicken or faint at the sight of such allegorical absurdity. [215] [This avowal has subjected me to the gentle remonstrance of the Librarian in question, and to the tart censure of M. Crapelet in particular. "Voilà le Reverend M. Dibdin (exclaims the latter) qui se croit obligé de déclarer qu'il n'a rien derobé!" And he then quotes, apparently with infinite delight, a passage from the _Quarterly Review_, (No. LXIII. June 1825) in which I am designated as having "extraordinary talents for ridicule!" But how my talents "for ridicule" (of which I very honestly declare my unconsciousness) can be supposed to bear upon the above "prick of conscience," is a matter which I have yet to learn. My amiable friend might have perhaps somewhat exceeded the prescribed line of his duty in letting me have the key of the Library in question--but, can a declaration of such confidence not having been MISPLACED, justify the flippant remarks of my Annotator?] [216] [It is now published in an entire state by the above competent Editor.] [217] See the authorities quoted, and the subject itself handled, in the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. 316, &c. [218] [Here again my sensitive Annotator breaks out into something little short of personal abuse, for my DARING to _doubt_ what all the world before had held in solemn _belief_! Still, I will continue to doubt; without wishing this doubt to be considered as "paroles d'Evangile"-- as M. Crapelet expresses it.] [219] Fully described in the _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. i. p. 39, with a fac-simile of the type. [220] A fac-simile of this device appears in a Latin Bible, without name of printer, particularly described in the _Ædes Althorpianæ_; vol. ii. p. 41. Hence we learn that the Bible in question, about the printer of which there appears to be some uncertainty among bibliographers, was absolutely printed by Gotz. [221] The imperfect copy, being a duplicate, was disposed of for a copy of the _Bibl. Spenceriana_; and it is now in the fine library of the Rt. Hon. T. Grenville. The very first glance at this copy will shew that the above description is not overcharged. [222] "These Duplicates related to some few articles of minor importance belonging to the library of the Public School, and which had escaped a former revision. The cession was made with due attention to forms, and with every facility." Such (as I have reason to believe) is the remark of M. Schweighæuser himself. What follows--evidently by the hand of M. Crapelet--is perfectly delicious ... of its kind. "That M. Dibdin should have preferred such an indiscreet request to the Librarians in question--impelled by his habitual vivacity and love of possessing books--is conceivable enough: but, that he should _publish_ such an anecdote--that he should delight in telling us of the rudeness which he committed in SITTING while the gentlemen about him were STANDING, is to affect a very uncommon singularity"!!! [Greek: Ô popoi!] [223] There are yet libraries, and rare books, in the district. I obtained for my friend the Rev. H. Drury, one of the finest copies in England of the first edition of _Cicero's Offices_, of 1465, 4to. UPON VELLUM--from the collection of a physician living in one of the smaller towns near the Vosges. This copy was in its ancient oaken attire, and had been formerly in a monastic library. For this acquisition my friend was indebted to the kind offices of the younger M. Schweighæuser. _LETTER XIV._ SOCIETY. ENVIRONS OF STRASBOURG. DOMESTIC ARCHITECTURE, MANNERS AND CUSTOMS. LITERATURE. LANGUAGE. My last letter, however copious, was almost wholly confined to _views of interiors_; that is to say, to an account of the Cathedral and of the Public Library. I shall now continue the narrative with views of interiors of a different description; with some slight notices of the _society_ and of the city of Strasbourg; concluding the whole, as well as closing my Strasbourg despatches, with a summary account of manners, customs, and literature. The great _Greek luminary_, not only of this place, but perhaps of Germany--the ELDER SCHWEIGHÆUSER--happens to be absent. His son tells me that he is at _Baden_ for the benefit of the waters, and advises me to take that "enchanting spot" (as he calls it) in my way to Stuttgart. "'Twill be only a trifling détour." What however will be the _chief_ temptation--as I frankly told the younger Schweighæuser--would be the society of his Father; to whom the son has promised a strong letter of introduction. I told you in my last that I had seen LICHTENBERGER at Treuttel and Würtz's. I have since called upon the old gentleman; and we immediately commenced a bibliographical parley. But it was chiefly respecting Lord Spencer's copies of the _Letters of Indulgence of Pope Nicolas V._ of the date of 1455, that he made the keenest enquiries. "Was the date legitimate?" I assured him there could be no doubt of it; and that what Hæberlin had said, followed by Lambinet, had no reference whatever to his Lordship's copies--for that, in _them_, the final units were compressed into a V and not extended by five strokes, thus--_iiiij_. As he was unacquainted with my account of these copies in the _Bibliotheca Spenceriana_, I was necessarily minute in the foregoing statement. The worthy old bibliographer was so pleased with this account, that he lifted up his eyes and hands, and exclaimed, "one grows old always to learn something." M. Haffner, who was one of the guests at a splendid, but extremely sociable dinner party at _Madame Franc's_[224] the principal banker here--is a pleasing, communicative, open-countenanced, and open-hearted gentleman. He may be about sixty years of age. I viewed his library with admiration. The order was excellent; and considering what were his _means_, I could not but highly compliment him upon his prudence and enthusiasm. This was among the happiest illustrations of the _Bibliomania_ which I had ever witnessed. The owner of this well chosen collection shewed me with triumph his copy of the first Greek Testament by _Erasmus_, and his copies of the same sacred book by _R. Stephen_ and _Wetstein_, in folio. Here too I saw a body of philological theology (if I may use this term) headed by _Walchius_ and _Wolff_, upon the possession of a similar collection of which, my late neighbour and friend, Dr. Gosset, used to expatiate with delight. Let me now take you with me out of doors. You love architecture of all descriptions: but "the olden" is always your "dear delight." In the construction of the streets of Strasbourg, they generally contrive that the corner house should _not_ terminate with a right angle. Such a termination is pretty general throughout Strasbourg. Of the differently, and sometimes curiously, constructed iron bars in front of the windows, I have also before made mention. The houses are generally lofty; and the roofs contain two or three tiers of open windows, garret-fashioned; which gives them a picturesque appearance; but which, I learn, were constructed as granaries to hold flour--for the support of the inhabitants, when the city should sustain a long and rigorous siege. As to _very ancient_ houses, I cannot charge my memory with having seen any; and the most ancient are those on the other side of the _Ill_; of which several are near the convent before mentioned. The immediate environs of Strasbourg (as I have before remarked) are very flat and poor, in a picturesque point of view. They consist chiefly of fields covered with the _tobacco plant_, which resembles that of our horse-radish; and the trade of tobacco may be considered the staple, as well as the indigenous, commodity of the place. This trade is at once extensive and lucrative; and regulated by very wholesome laws. The outskirts of the town, considered in an architectural point of view, are also very indifferent. As to the general character, or rather appearance, of the Strasbourgeois, it is such as to afford very considerable satisfaction. The manners and customs of the people are simple and sober. The women, even to the class of menial servants, go abroad with their hair brushed and platted in rather a tasteful manner, as we even sometimes observe in the best circles of our own country. The hair is dressed _à la grecque_, and the head is usually uncovered: contrary to the broad round hats, and depending queues, of the women inhabiting the neighbourhood of _Saverne_. But you should know that the farmers about Strasbourg are generally rich in pocket, and choice and dainty in the disposition of their daughters--with respect to wedlock. They will not deign to marry them to bourgeois of the ordinary class. They consider the blood running in their families' veins to be polluted by such an intermixture; and accordingly they are oftentimes saucy, and hold their heads high. Even some of the fair dames coming from the high "countre," whom we saw kneeling the other day, in the cathedral, with their rural attire, would not commute their circular head pieces for the most curiously braided head of hair in the city of Strasbourg. The utmost order and decency, both in dress and conduct, prevail in the streets and at spectacles. There seems to be that sober good sense among the Strasbourgeois--which forms a happy medium between the gaiety of their western, and the phlegm of their eastern, neighbours; and while this general good order obtains, we may forgive "officers for mounting guard in white silk stockings, or for dancing in boots at an assembly--and young gentlemen for wearing such scanty skirts to their coats:"--subjects, which appear to have ruffled the good temper of the recent historian of Strasbourg.[225] It seems clear that the morals of the community, and especially of the female part, were greatly benefited by the Reformation,[226] or establishment of the protestant religion. In alluding to manners and customs, or social establishments of this place, you ought to know that some have imagined the origin of _Free-masonry_ may be traced to Strasbourg; and that the first _lodges_ of that description were held in this city. The story is this. The cathedral, considered at the time of its erection as a second _Solomon's temple_, was viewed as the wonder of the modern world. Its masons, or architects, were the theme of universal praise. Up rose, in consequence, the cathedrals of _Vienna, Cologne, Landshut_ and others: and it was resolved that, on the completion of such stately structures, those, whose mechanical skill had been instrumental to their erection, should meet in one common bond, and chant together, periodically, at least their _own_ praises. Their object was to be considered very much above the common labourer, who wore his apron in front, and carried his trowel in his hand: on the contrary, _they_ adopted, as the only emblems worthy of their profession, the level, the square, and the compass. All the lodges, wherever established, considered that of Strasbourg as the common parent; and at a meeting held at Ratisbon in 1459, it was agreed that the ARCHITECT OF STRASBOURG CATHEDRAL should be the _Grand Master of Free-masons_; and one DOTZINGER of Worms, who had succeeded Hulz in 1449, (just after the latter, had finished the spire) was acknowledged to be the FIRST GRAND MASTER. I own my utter ignorance in the lore of free-masonry; but have thought it worth while to send you these particulars: as I know you to be very "curious and prying" in antiquarian researches connected with this subject. Strasbourg has been always eminent for its literary reputation, from the time of the two STURMII, or rather from that of GEYLER, downwards. It boasts of historians, chroniclers, poets, critics, and philologists. At this present moment the public school, or university, is allowed to be in a most flourishing condition; and the name of SCHWEIGHÆUSER alone is sufficient to rest its pretensions to celebrity on the score of _classical_ acumen and learning. While, within these last hundred years, the names of SCHOEPFLIN, OBERLIN, and KOCH, form a host in the department of _topography_ and _political economy_. In _Annals_ and _Chronicles_, perhaps no provincial city in Europe is richer; while in _old Alsatian poetry_ there is an almost inexhaustible banquet to feast upon. M. Engelhardt, the brother in law of M. Schweighæuser junr. is just now busily engaged in giving an account of some of the ancient love poets, or _Minne-Singers_; and he shewed me the other day some curious drawings relating to the same, taken from a MS. of the XIIIth century, in the public library. But Oberlin, in 1786, published an interesting work "_De Poetis Alsatiæ eroticis medii ævi_"--and more lately in 1806; M. Arnold in his "_Notice littéraire et historique sur les poëtes alsaciens_," 1806, 8vo.--enriched by the previous remarks of Schoepflin, Oberlin, and Frantz--has given a very satisfactory account of the achievements of the Muses who seem to have inhabited the mountain-tops of Alsatia--from the ninth to the sixteenth century inclusively. It is a fertile and an interesting subject. Feign would I, if space and time allowed, give you an outline of the same; from the religious metres of _Ottfried_ in the ninth--to the charming and tender touches which are to be found in the _Hortus deliciarum_[227] of _Herade_ Abbess of Landsberg, in the twelfth-century: not meaning to pass over, in my progress, the effusions of philology and poetry which distinguished the rival abbey of _Hohenbourg_ in the same century. Indeed; not fewer than three Abbesses-- _Rélinde, Herade, and _Edelinde_--cultivated literature at one and the same time: when, in Arnold's opinion, almost the whole of Europe was plunged in barbarism and ignorance. Then comes _Günther_, in the fifteenth century; with several brave geniuses in the intervening period: and, latterly, the collection of the _Old Troubadour Poetry of Alsace_, by _Roger Maness_--of which there is a MS. in the Royal Library at Paris; and another (containing matter of a somewhat later period) in the Public library here; of which latter not a specimen, as I understand, has seen the light in the form of a printed text. In later times, _Brandt, Wimphelin, Locher, Baldus, Pfeffel_, and _Nicolay_, are enough to establish the cause of good poetry, and the celebrity of this city in the production of such poets. As to the _Meister-Sængers_ (or Master-Singers) who composed the strains which they sang, perhaps the cities of Mentz and Nuremberg may vie with that of Strasbourg, in the production of this particular class. _Hans Sachs_ of Nuremberg, formerly a cobler, was considered to be the very _Coryphoeus_ of these Master-Singers. At the age of fourscore he is said to have composed four thousand three hundred and seventy verses. A word or two only respecting the language spoken at Strasbourg. From the relative situation of the town, this language would necessarily be of a mixed character: that is to say, there would be intermarriages between the Germans and French--and the offspring of such marriages would necessarily speak a _patois_. This seems to be generally admitted. The ancient language of Strasbourg is said to have been the pure dialect of _Suabia_; but, at present, the dialect of _Saxony_, which is thought to be purer as well as more fashionable, is carefully taught in the schools of both sexes, and spoken by all the ministers in the pulpit. Luther wrote in this dialect, and all protestant preachers make use of it as a matter of course. Yet Hermann labours to prove how much softer the dialect of High Germany is than that of High Saxony. There have lately appeared several small brochures in the _common language_ of the town--such, of course, as is ordinarily spoken in the shops and streets: and among others, a comedy called; _Der Pfingst-Montag_, written (says Hermann) with much spirit; but the author of this latter work has been obliged to mark the pronunciation, which renders the perusal of it somewhat puzzling. It is also accompanied with a glossary. But that you, or your friends, may judge for yourselves, I send you a specimen of the _patois_, or common language spoken in the street--in the enclosed ballad: which I purchased the other day, for about a penny of our money, from an old goody, who was standing upon a stool, and chanting it aloud to an admiring audience. I send you the first four stanzas.[228] Im Namen der allerheiligsten Dreifaltigkeit das goldene ABC, Neu verfasst für Jedermann, dass er mit Ehr' bestehen kann. Alles ist an Gottes Segen, Was wir immer thun, gelegen, Arbeit aber bleibt doch unsre Pflicht: Der Träge hat den segen Gottes nicht. Behalt' ein weises Maass in allen Stücken; Das Uebertriebne kann dich nicht beglücken. Dies Sprichwort trifft in allen Dingen ein: Das Gute selbst muss eingeschränket seyn. Christ! sey der Rache nicht ergeben, Der Zorn verbittert nur das Leben; Und wer dem Feinde gern verzeiht, Geniesst schon hier der Seligkeit. Der wird verachtet von der Welt, Der das gegebne Wort nicht hält: Drum gieb dein Wort nich leicht von dir; Hast du's gethan, so steh' dafür. _In the name of the most Holy Trinity._ THE GOLDEN A B C. _Newly set forth to enable every man to stand fast in honour._ _Howe'er employed, we ev'ry nerve should strain On all our works God's blessings to obtain. Whilst here on earth to labour we're ordain'd; The lazy never yet God's blessing gain'd._ _In all things strive a medium to procure; Redundance never can success insure: This proverb will in all things be found true, That good itself, should have its limits due. Christian! avoid revenge and strife, For anger tends to embitter life: And he who readily forgives his foe, Ev'n here on earth true happiness shall know. He who the promise he hath given denies, Will find the world most justly him despise; Be cautious then how thou a promise make, But, having made it, ne'er that promise break_. DANNBACH is the principal Greek printer of this place; his Greek type (which I cannot too much commend) is precisely that used in the _Bipont Thucydydes_ and _Plato_. The principal printers, for works in which the Greek type is not introduced, is LEVRAULT _Pere et Fils_: and I must say that, if even a fastidious author, a resident Strasbourgeois,--whose typographical taste had been formed upon the beautifully executed volumes of Bodoni, Didot, or Bulmer--chose to publish a fine book, he need not send it to _Paris_ to be printed; for M. Levrault is both a skilful, intelligent, and very able printer and publisher. I visited him more than once. He has a considerable commercial establishment. His shop and warehouses are large and commodious; and Madame Levrault is both active and knowing in aiding and abetting the concerns of her husband. I should consider their house to be a rich one. M. Levrault is also a very fair typographical antiquary. He talked of Fust and Jenson with earnestness, and with a knowledge of their productions; and told me that he had, up stairs, a room full of old books, especially of those printed by _Aldus_--and begged I would walk up and inspect them. You will give me credit for having done so readily. But it was a "poor affair,"--for the fastidious taste of an Englishman. There was literally nothing in the way of temptation; and so I abstained from tempting the possessor by the offer of napoleons or golden ducats. We had a long and a very gratifying interview; and I think he shewed me (not for the purpose of sale) a copy of the famous tract of St. Austin, called _De Arte prædicandi_, printed by _Fust_ or by _Mentelin_; in which however, as the copy was imperfect, he was not thoroughly conversant. They are all proud at Strasbourg of their countryman Mentelin, and of course yet more so of Gutenberg; although this latter was a native of Mentz. Mr. Levrault concluded his conversation by urging me, in strong terms, to visit _Colmar_ ere I crossed the Rhine; as that place abounded with "DES INCUNABLES TYPOGRAPHIQUES." I told him that it was impossible; that I had a great deal on my hands to accomplish on the other side of the Rhine; and that my first great stroke, in the way of BOOK-ACQUISITIONS, must be struck at _Stuttgart_. M. Levrault seemed surprised--"for truly," (added he) "there are no _old_ books there, save in the _Public Library_." I smiled, and wished him a good day. Upon the whole, my dear friend, I have taken rather an affection for this place. All classes of people are civil, kind, and communicative: but my obligations are due, in a more especial manner, to the younger Mr. Schweighæuser and to Madame Francs. I have passed several pleasant evenings with the former, and talked much of the literature of our country with him and his newly married spouse: a lively, lady-like, and intelligent woman. She is warm in commendation of the _Mary Stuart_ of Schiller; which, in reply to a question on my part, she considers to be the most impassioned of that Dramatist's performances. Of English she knows nothing; but her husband is well read in Thomson, Akenside, and Pope; and of course is sufficiently well acquainted with our language. A more amiable and zealous man, in the discharge of his duties as a teacher of youth, the town of Strasbourg does not possess. His little memoir of Koch has quite won my heart.[229] You have heard me mention the name of OHMACHT, a sculptor. He is much caressed by the gentry of this place. Madame Francs shewed me what I consider to be his best performance; a profile, in white marble, of her late daughter, who died in childbed, in her twenty-first year. It is a sweet and tender production: executed upon the Greek model--and said to be a strong resemblance of the deceased. Madame Francs shewed it to me, and expatiated upon it with tears in her eyes: as she well might--for the _character_ of the deceased was allowed to have been as attractive as her countenance.[230] I will candidly confess that, in other respects, I am a very _qualified_ admirer of the talents of Ohmacht. His head of Oberlin is good; but it is only a profile. I visited his _Studio_, and saw him busy upon a colossal head of Luther--in a close-grained, but coarse-tinted, stone. I liked it as little as I have always liked heads of that celebrated man. I want to see a resemblance of him in which vulgarity shall be lost in energy of expression. Never was there a countenance which bespoke greater intrepidity of heart. I am hastening to the close of this despatch, and to take leave of this place. Through the interposition of Messrs. Treuttel and Würtz, I have hired a respectable servant, or laquais, to accompany me to Vienna, and back again to Manheim. His name is _Rohfritsch_; and he has twice visited the Austrian capital in the rear of Napoleon's army,--when he was only in his sixteenth or seventeenth year--as a page or attendant upon one of the Generals. He talks the French and German languages with equal fluency. I asked him if we needed fire arms; at which he smiled--as if wondering at my simplicity or ignorance. In truth, the question was a little precipitate; for, the other evening, I saw two or three whiskered Bavarian travellers, starting hence for Munich, in an open, fourgon-shaped travelling carriage, with two benches across it: on the front bench sat the two gentlemen, wrapped round with clokes: on the hinder bench, the servant took his station--not before he had thrown into the carriage two huge bags of _florins_, as unconcernedly as if they had been bags of _pebbles_. They were to travel all night--without sabre, pistol, or carbine, for protection. I own this gave me a very favourable opinion of the country I was about to visit; and on recollecting it, had good reason to acquiesce in the propriety of the smiles of Rohfritsch. Every thing, therefore, is now settled: gold ducats and silver florins have been obtained from Madame Francs; and to morrow we start. My next will be from _Stuttgart_--where a "deed of note" will, I trust, be accomplished. Fare you well. [224] [This dinner party is somewhat largely detailed in the preceding edition of this work; but it scarcely merits repetition here; the more so, since the presiding Hostess is NO MORE!] [225] _Hermann_; vol. i. p. 154. [226] _greatly benefited by the Reformation_.]--Among the benefactors to the cause of public morality, was the late lamented and ever memorable KOCH. Before the year 1536, it should seem, from Koch's statement, that even whole streets as well as houses were occupied by women of a certain description. After this year, there were only two houses of ill fame left. The women, of the description before alluded to, used to wear black and white hats, of a sugar-loaf form, over the veil which covered their faces; and they were confined strictly to this dress by the magistrates. These women were sometimes represented in the sculptured figures about the cathedral. Hermann says that there may yet be seen, over the door of a house in the _Bickergase_ (one of the streets now called _Rue de la fontaine_, which was formerly devoted to the residence of women of ill fame) a bas-relief, representing two figures, with the following German inscription beneath: _Diss haus steht in Gottes Hand Wird zu deu freud'gen kindern gennant._ which he translates thus: _Cette maison; dans la main de Dieu, S'appelle aux enfans bien joyeux_. It should seem, therefore, (continues Hermann) that this was one of the houses in which a public officer attended, to keep order, prevent quarrels, and exact municipal rights. The book, in which the receipt of this tax was entered, existed during the time of the Revolution, and is thought to be yet in existence. Hermann, vol. i. p. 156. [227] See p. 401 ante. [228] For the English metrical version I am indebted to "an old hand at these matters." [229] Since the publication of this Tour, I have received several pleasant and thoroughly friendly letters from the above excellent Individual: and I could scarcely forgive myself if I omitted this opportunity of annexing his autograph:--as a worthy companion to those which have preceded it. [Autograph: Schweighæuser] [230] [Madame Francs, whose kind and liberal conduct towards me can never be forgotten, has now herself become the subject of a monumental effigy. She DIED (as I learn) in the year 1826.] END OF VOL. II. * * * * * London: Printed by W. Nicol, Cleveland-row, St. James's. 
13430	----	Proofreading Team. A LIBRARIAN'S OPEN SHELF ESSAYS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS ARTHUR E. BOSTWICK, Ph.D. 1920 PREFACE The papers here gathered together represent the activities of a librarian in directions outside the boundaries of his professional career, although the influences of it may be detected in them here and there. Except for those influences they have little connection and the transition of thought and treatment from one to another may occasionally seem violent. It may, however, serve to protect the reader from the assaults of monotony. A.E.B. CONTENTS DO READERS READ? (_The Critic_, July, 1901, p. 67-70) WHAT MAKES PEOPLE READ? (_The Book Lover_, January, 1904, p. 12-16) THE PASSING OF THE POSSESSIVE; A STUDY OF BOOK TITLES (_The Book Buyer_, June, 1897, p. 500-1) SELECTIVE EDUCATION (_Educational Review_, November, 1907, p. 365-73) THE USES OF FICTION Read before the American Library Association, Asheville Conference, May 28, 1907. (_A.L.A. Bulletin_, July, 1907, p. 183-7) THE VALUE OF ASSOCIATION Delivered before the Library Associations of Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, Indiana and Ohio, October 9-18, 1907. (_Library Journal_, January, 1908, p. 3-9) MODERN EDUCATIONAL METHODS (_Notes and News_, Montclair, N.J., July, 1908) SOME ECONOMIC FEATURES OF LIBRARIES Read at the opening of the Chestnut Hill Branch, Philadelphia Free Library, January 22, 1909. (_Library Journal_, February, 1909, p. 48-52) SIMON NEWCOMB: AMERICA'S FOREMOST ASTRONOMER (_Review of Reviews_, August, 1909, p. 171-4) THE COMPANIONSHIP OF BOOKS Read before the Pacific Northwest Library Association, June, 1910. (_P.N.W.L.A. Proceedings_, 1910, p. 8-23) ATOMIC THEORIES OF ENERGY Read before the St. Louis Academy of Science. (_The Monist_, October, 1912, p. 580-5) THE ADVERTISEMENT OF IDEAS (_Minnesota Library Notes and News_, December, 1912, p. 190-7) THE PUBLIC LIBRARY, THE PUBLIC SCHOOL, AND THE SOCIAL CENTER MOVEMENT Read before the National Education Association. (_N.E.A. Proceedings_, 1912, p. 240-5) THE SYSTEMATIZATION OF VIOLENCE (_St. Louis Mirror_, July 18, 1913) THE ART OF RE-READING HISTORY AND HEREDITY Read before the New England Society of St. Louis. (_New England Society of St. Louis_. _Proceedings_, 29th year, p. 13-20) WHAT THE FLAG STANDS FOR A Flag Day address in St. Peter's church, St. Louis. (_St. Louis Republic_, June 15, 1914) THE PEOPLE'S SHARE IN THE PUBLIC LIBRARY Read before the Chicago Women's Club, January 6, 1915. (_Library Journal_, April, 1915, p. 227-32) SOME TENDENCIES OF AMERICAN THOUGHT Read before the New York Library Association at Squirrel Inn, Haines Falls, September 28, 1915. (_Library Journal_, November, 1915, p. 771-7) DRUGS AND THE MAN A Commencement address to the graduating class of the School of Pharmacy, St. Louis, May 19, 1915. (_Journal of the American Pharmaceutical Association_, August, 1915, p. 915-22) HOW THE COMMUNITY EDUCATES ITSELF Read before the American Library Association, Asbury Park, N.J., June 27, 1916. (_Library Journal_, August, 1916, p. 541-7) CLUBWOMEN'S READING (_The Bookman_, January-March, 1915, p. 515-21, 642-7, 64-70) BOOKS FOR TIRED EYES (_Yale Review_, January, 1917, p. 358-68) THE MAGIC CASEMENT Read before the Town and Gown Club, St. Louis. A WORD TO BELIEVERS Address at the closing section of the Church School of Religious Instruction. INDEX A LIBRARIAN'S OPEN SHELF ESSAYS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS DO READERS READ? Those who are interested in the proper use of our libraries are asking continually, "What do readers read?" and the tables of class-percentages in the annual reports of those institutions show that librarians are at least making an attempt to satisfy these queries. But a question that is still more fundamental and quite as vital is: Do readers read at all? This is not a paradox, but a common-sense question, as the following suggestive little incident will show. The librarian-in-charge of a crowded branch circulating-library in New York City had occasion to talk, not long ago, to one of her "star" borrowers, a youth who had taken out his two good books a week regularly for nearly a year and whom she had looked upon as a model--so much so that she had never thought it necessary to advise with him regarding his reading. In response to a question this lad made answer somewhat as follows: "Yes, ma'am, I'm doing pretty well with my reading. I think I should get on nicely if I could only once manage to read a book through; but somehow I can't seem to do it." This boy had actually taken to his home nearly a hundred books, returning each regularly and borrowing another, without reading to the end of a single one of them. That this case is not isolated and abnormal, but is typical of the way in which a large class of readers treat books, there is, as we shall see, only too much reason to believe. The facts are peculiarly hard to get at. At first sight there would seem to be no way to find out whether the books that our libraries circulate have been read through from cover to cover, or only half through, or not at all. To be sure, each borrower might be questioned on the subject as he returned his book, but this method, would be resented as inquisitorial, and after all there would be no certainty that the data so gathered were true. By counting the stamps on the library book-card or dating-slip we can tell how many times a book has been borrowed, but this gives us no information about whether it has or has not been read. Fortunately for our present purpose, however, many works are published in a series of volumes, each of which is charged separately, and an examination of the different slips will tell us whether or not the whole work has been read through by all those who borrowed it. If, for instance in a two-volume work each volume has gone out twenty times, twenty borrowers either have read it through or have stopped somewhere in the second volume, while if the first volume is charged twenty times and the second only fourteen, it is certain that six of those who took out the first volume did not get as far as the second. In works of more than two volumes we can tell with still greater accuracy at what point the reader's interest was insufficient to carry him further. Such an investigation has been made of all works in more than one volume contained in seven branches of the Brooklyn Public Library, and with very few exceptions it has been found that each successive volume in a series has been read by fewer persons than the one immediately preceding. What is true of books in more than one volume is presumably also true, although perhaps in a less degree, of one-volume works, although we have no means of showing it directly. Among the readers of every book, then, there are generally some who, for one reason or other, do not read it to the end. Our question, "Do readers read?" is thus answered in the negative for a large number of cases. The supplementary question, "Why do not readers read?" occurs at once, but an attempt to answer it would take us rather too deeply into psychology. Whether this tendency to leave the latter part of books unread is increasing or not we can tell only by repeating the present investigation at intervals of a year or more. The probability is that it is due to pure lack of interest. For some reason or other, many persons begin to read books that fail to hold their attention. In a large number of cases this is doubtless due to a feeling that one "ought to read" certain books and certain classes of books. A sense of duty carries the reader part way through his task, but he weakens before he has finished it. This shows how necessary it is to stimulate one's general interest in a subject before advising him to read a book that is not itself calculated to arouse and sustain that interest. Possibly the modern newspaper habit, with its encouragement of slipshod reading, may play its part in producing the general result, and doubtless a careful detailed investigation would reveal still other partial causes, but the chief and determining cause must be lack of interest. And it is to be feared that instead of taking measures to arouse a permanent interest in good literature, which would in itself lead to the reading of standard works and would sustain the reader until he had finished his task, we have often tried to replace such an interest by a fictitious and temporary stimulus, due to appeals to duty, or to that vague and confused idea that one should "improve one's mind," unaccompanied by any definite plan of ways and means. There is no more powerful moral motor than duty, but it loses its force when we try to apply it to cases that lie without the province of ethics. The man who has no permanent interest in historical literature, and who is impelled to begin a six-volume history because he conceives it to be his "duty" to read it, is apt to conclude, before he has finished the second volume, that his is a case where inclination (or in this instance disinclination) is the proper guide. As a matter of fact, the formation of a cultivated and permanent taste for good reading is generally a matter of lifelong education. It must be begun when the child reads his first book. An encouraging sign for the future is the care that is now taken in all good libraries to supervise the reading of children and to provide for them special quarters and facilities. A somewhat disheartening circumstance, on the other hand, is the multiplication of annotated and abbreviated children's editions of all sorts of works that were read by the last generation of children without any such treatment. This kind of boned chicken may be very well for the mental invalid, but the ordinary child prefers to separate his meat from the "drumstick" by his own unaided effort, and there is no doubt that it is better for him to do so. In the following table, the average circulation of first volumes, second volumes, etc., is given for each of seven classes of works. The falling off from volume to volume is noticeable in each class. It is most marked in science, and least so, as might be expected, in fiction. Yet it is remarkable that there should be any falling off at all in fiction. The record shows that the proportion of readers who cannot even read to the end of a novel is relatively large. These are doubtless the good people who speak of Dickens as "solid reading" and who regard Thackeray with as remote an eye as they do Gibbon. For such "The Duchess" furnishes good mental pabulum, and Miss Corelli provides flights into the loftier regions of philosophy. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. CLASS I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII IX. X. XI. XII. History 10.1 6.9 4.9 4.4 4.6 4.3 2.5 2.8 1.0 0.5 1.0 3.0 Biography 7.2 5.1 3.0 2.3 1.6 1.0 1.6 1.2 1.0 2. Travel 9.2 7.9 Literature 7.3 5.9 3.5 3.8 5.3 6.6 19.0 15.0 21.0 Arts 4.7 3.7 3.0 Sciences 5.2 2.7 1.5 Fiction 22.0 18.9 15.8 16. 26. 16. The figures in the table, as has been stated, are averages, and the number of cases averaged decreases rapidly as we reach the later volumes, because, of course, the number of works that run beyond four or five volumes is relatively small. Hence the figures for the higher volumes are irregular. Any volume may have been withdrawn separately for reference without any intention of reading its companions. Among the earlier volumes such use counts for little, owing to the large number of volumes averaged, while it may and does make the figures for the later volumes irregular. Thus, under History the high number in the twelfth column represents one-twelfth volume of Froude, which was taken out three times, evidently for separate reference, as the eleventh was withdrawn but once. Furthermore, apart from this irregularity, the figures for the later volumes are relatively large, for a work in many volumes is apt to be a standard, and although its use falls rapidly from start to finish enough readers persevere to the end to make the final averages compare unduly well with the initial ones where the high use of the same work is averaged in with smaller use of dozens of other first and second volumes. That the falling off from beginning to end in such long works is much more striking than would appear from the averages alone may be seen from the following records of separate works in numerous volumes: VOLUMES I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X HISTORY Grote, "Greece" 11 6 5 2 1 0 1 1 1 0 Bancroft, "United States" 22 10 6 8 10 8 Hume, "England" 24 7 5 2 1 1 Gibbon, "Rome" 38 12 7 3 4 6 Motley, "United Netherlands" 7 1 1 1 Prescott, "Ferdinand and Isabella" 20 4 2 Carlyle, "French Revolution" 18 10 8 McCarthy, "Our Own Times" 27 8 11 BIOGRAPHY Bourienne, "Memoirs of Napoleon" 19 18 9 7 Longfellow's "Life" 6 4 2 Nicolay and Hay, "Lincoln" 6 3 3 2 2 2 2 1 1 2 Carlyle, "Frederick the Great" 7 3 2 2 2 FICTION Dumas, "Vicomte de Bragelonne" 31 30 24 22 21 16 Dumas, "Monte Cristo" 27 17 18 Dickens, "Our Mutual Friend" 5 4 1 0 Stowe, "Uncle Tom's Cabin" 37 24 Of course, these could be multiplied indefinitely. They are sufficiently interesting apart from all comment. One would hardly believe without direct evidence that of thirty-one persons who began one of Dumas's romances scarcely half would read it to the end, or that not one of five persons who essayed Dickens's "Mutual Friend" would succeed in getting through it. Those who think that there can be no pathos in statistics are invited to ponder this table deeply. Can anyone think unmoved of those two dozen readers who, feeling impelled by desire for an intellectual stimulant to take up Hume, found therein a soporific instead and fell by the wayside? A curious fact is that the tendency to attempt to "begin at the beginning" is so strong that it sometimes extends to collected works in which there is no sequence from volume to volume. Thus we have the following: Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. Chaucer, "Poetical Works" 38 9 5 Milton, "Poetical Works" 19 8 Longfellow, "Poetical Works" 14 15 2 10 3 3 Emerson, "Essays" 48 13 Ward, "English Poets" 13 2 6 There are of course exceptions to the rule that circulation decreases steadily from volume to volume. Here are a few: Vol. Vol. Vol. Vol. I. II. III. IV. Fiske, "Old Virginia" 26 24 Spears, "History of the Navy" 44 39 36 36 Andrews, "Last Quarter Century" 8 8 Kennan, "Siberia" 15 13 In the case of the two-volume works the interest-sustaining power may not always be as great as would appear, because when the reader desires it, two volumes are given out as one; but the stamps on the dating-slips show that this fact counted for little in the present instances. I would not assume that the inferences in the present article are of any special value. The statistical facts are the thing. So far as I know, no one has called attention to them before, and they are certainly worthy of all interest and attention. WHAT MAKES PEOPLE READ? Does the reading public read because it has a literary taste or for some other reason? In the case of the public library, for instance, does a man start with an overwhelming desire to read or study books and is he impelled thereby to seek out the place where he may most easily and best obtain them? Or is he primarily attracted to the library by some other consideration, his love for books and reading acting only in a secondary manner? The New York Public Library, for instance, carries on the registry books of its circulating department nearly 400,000 names, and in the course of a year nearly 35,000 new applications are made for the use of its branch libraries, scattered over different parts of the city. What brings these people to the library? This is no idle question. The number of library users, large as it is, represents too small a fraction of our population. If it is a good thing to provide free reading matter for our people--and every large city in the country has committed itself to the truth of this proposition--we should certainly try to see that what we furnish is used by all who need it. Hence an examination into the motives that induce people to make their first use of a free public library may bring out information that is not only interesting but useful. To this end several hundred regular users of the branches of the New York Public Library were recently asked this question directly, and the answers are tabulated and discussed below. In each of sixteen branch libraries the persons interrogated numbered forty--ten each of men, women, boys and girls. Thirty answers have been thrown out for irrelevancy or defectiveness. The others are classified in the following table: A B C D E F G H I J K L Totals Men 6 64 10 .. .. .. 37 20 3 1 9 4 154 Boys 38 63 28 .. 4 3 9 6 5 .. .. 3 159 Women 12 67 14 4 .. .. 20 21 2 1 2 5 148 Girls 33 69 34 .. .. .. 5 3 3 .. .. 2 149 Total 89 263 86 4 4 3 71 50 13 2 11 14 610 Col. A: Sent or Told by Teacher Col. B: Sent or Told by Friend Col. C: Sent or Told by Relative Col. D: Sent or Told by Clergyman Col. E: Sent or Told by Library Assistant Col. F: Through Reading Room Col. G: Saw Building Col. H: Saw Sign Col. I: Saw Library Books Col. J: Saw Bulletin Col. K: Saw Article in Paper Col. L: Sought Library It will be seen that the vast majority of those questioned were led to the library by some circumstance other than the simple desire to find a place where books could be obtained. Of more than six hundred persons whose answers are here recorded only fourteen found the library as the result of a direct search for it prompted by a desire to read. In a majority of the other cases, of course, perhaps in all of them, the desire to read had its part, but this desire was awakened by hearing a mention of the library or by seeing it or something connected with it. These determining circumstances fall into two classes, those that worked through the ear and those that operated through the eye. Those who _heard_ of the library in some way numbered 449, while those who _saw_ it or something connected with it were only 147--an interesting fact, especially as we are told by psychologists that apprehension and memory through sight are of a higher type than the same functions where exercised through hearing. Probably, however, this difference was dependent on the fact that the thing heard was in most cases a direct injunction or a piece of advice, while the thing seen did not act with similar urgency. There are some surprises in the table. For instance, only four persons were sent directly to libraries by persons employed therein. Doubtless the average library assistant wishes to get as far from "shop" as possible in her leisure hours, but it is still disappointing to find that those who are employed in our libraries exercise so little influence in bringing persons to use them. The same thing is true of the influence of reading rooms. In many of the branch libraries in New York there are separate reading rooms to which others than card-holders in the library are admitted, and one of the chief arguments for this has been that the user of such a room, having become accustomed to resort to the library building, would be apt to use the books. Apparently, however, such persons are in the minority. No less disappointing is the slight influence of the clergy. Only four persons report this as a determining influence and these were all women connected with a branch which was formerly the parish library of a New York church. The influence of the press, too, seems to amount to little, in spite of the fact that the newspapers in New York have freely commented on the valuable work of the branch libraries and have called attention to it both in the news and editorial columns whenever occasion offered. Do the readers of library books in New York shun the public-press, or do they pay scant heed to what they read therein? Another somewhat noteworthy fact is that of the 449 persons who sought the library by advice of some one, only 89 were sent by teachers. But perhaps this is unfair. Of 265 boys and girls who thus came to the library, only 71 were sent by teachers. This is a larger percentage, but it is still not so large as we might expect. The difference between adults and children comes out quite strikingly in a few instances. We should have foreseen this of course in the case of advice by teachers, which was reported by 71 children and only 18 adults as a reason for visiting the library. Here we should not have expected this reason to be given by adults at all. Doubtless these were chiefly young men and women who had used the library since their school-days. In like manner the advice or injunction of relatives was more patent with children than with adults, the proportion here being 62 to 24. This probably illustrates the power of parental injunction. In another case the difference comes out in a wholly unexpected way. Of the 71 persons who reported that they were attracted to the library by seeing the buildings, 57 were adults and only 14 children. The same is true of those who were led in by seeing a sign, who numbered 41 adults to only 9 children. This seems to show either that adults are more observant or that children are more diffident in following out an impulse of this kind. It completely negatives the ordinary impression among librarians, at least in New York, where it has been believed that the sight of a library building, especially where the work going on inside is visible from the street, is a potent attraction to the young. Some of the new branch buildings in New York have even been planned with a special view to the exercise of this kind of attraction. The small number of persons who were attracted by printed matter, in library or general publications, were entirely adults. The one instance where age seems to exercise no particular influence is that of the advice of friends, by which old and young alike seem to have profited. The influence of sex does not appear clearly, although among those who followed the injunction of relatives the women and girls are slightly in the majority, and the four who were sent by clergymen were all women. Of those who were attracted by the buildings 46 were male and 25 female, which may mean that men are somewhat more observant or less diffident than women. A few of those questioned relate their experiences at some length. Says one boy: "A boy friend of mine said he belonged to this library and he found some very good books here. He asked me if I wanted to join; I said yes. He told me I would have to get a reference. I got one, and joined this library." Another one reports: "I saw a boy in the street and asked him where he was going. He said he was going to the library. I asked him what the library was and he told me; so I came up here and have been coming ever since." Critical judgment is shown by some of the young people. One boy says: "I heard all the other boys saying it was a good library and that the books were better kept than in a majority of libraries." A girl says that friends "told her what nice books were in this library." In one case a boy's brother "told him he could get the best books here for his needs." The combination of man and book seems to be very attractive. One child "saw a boy in school with a book, telling what a boy should know about electricity; I wanted to read that book and joined the library." Others "followed a crowd of little boys with books"; "saw children taking books out of the building and asked them about joining"; "saw a boy carrying books and asked if there was a library in the neighborhood." A woman "saw a child with a library book in the park and asked her for the address of the library." Sometimes the book alone does the work, as shown by the following laconic report: "Found a book in the park; took it to the library; joined it." A cause of sorrow to many librarians who have decided ideas regarding literature for children will be the report of a boy who exclaimed: "Horatio Alger did it!" On being asked to explain, he said that a friend had brought one of Alger's books to his house and that he was thereby attracted to the library. Among those who were brought in by relatives are children who were first carried by their mothers to the library as infants and so grew naturally into its use. Sometimes the influence works upward instead of downward, for several adults report that their children brought them to the library or induced them to visit it. One man reports that he "got married and his wife induced him to come." Some of the reasons given are curious. A few are unconnected with the use of books. One girl came to the library because "it was a very handy library"; another, because she "saw it was a nice place to come to on a rainy day." Still another frankly avows that "it was the fad among the boys and girls of our neighborhood; we used to meet at the library." A postman reported that he entered the library first in the line of his duty, but was attracted by it and began to take out books. A clergyman had his attention called to the library by requests from choir-boys that he should sign their application blanks; afterwards thinking that he might find books there for his own reading, he became a regular user. One user came first to the library to see an exhibition of pictures of old New York. A recent importation says: "When I came from Paris I found all my cousins speaking English; 'well,' they said, 'go to the library and take books'"--a process that doubtless did its share toward making an American of the new arrival. In another case, the Americanizing process has not yet reached the stage where the user's English is altogether intelligible. He says: "Because I like to read the book. I ask the bakery lady to my reference and I sing my neam" [sign my name?]. Here are some examples of recently acquired elegance in diction that are almost baboo-like in their hopelessness: "Because it interest about the countries that are far away. It gives knowledge to many of the people in this country." "So as to obtain knowledge from them and by reading books find out how the great men were in their former days and all about them and the world and its people." It will be seen that the last two writers were among those who misunderstood our questions and told why they read books rather than how they were first led to the use of a library. These reports are far from possessing merely a passing interest for the curious. For the public librarian, whose wish it is to reach as large a proportion of the public as possible, they are full of valuable hints. They emphasize, for instance, the urgent necessity of winning the good will of the public, and they forcibly remind us that this is of more value in gaining a foothold for the library than columns of notices in the papers or thousands of circulars or cards distributed in the neighborhood. It is even more potent than a beautiful building. Attractive as this is, its value as an influence to secure new readers is vastly less than a reputation for hospitality and helpfulness. In looking over the figures one rather disquieting thought cannot be kept down. If the good will of the public is so potent in increasing the use of the library, the ill will of the same public must be equally potent in the opposite direction. Some of those who are satisfied with us and our work are here put on record. How about the dissatisfied? A record of these might be even more interesting, for it would point out weaknesses to be strengthened and errors to be avoided--but that, as Kipling says, "is another story." THE PASSING OF THE POSSESSIVE: A STUDY OF BOOK-TITLES If there is one particular advantage possessed by the Teutonic over the Romance languages in idiomatic clearness and precision it is that conferred by their ownership of a possessive case, almost the sole remaining monument to the fact that our ancestors spoke an inflected tongue. That we should still be able to speak of "the baker's wife's dog" instead of "the dog of the wife of the baker" certainly should be regarded by English-speaking people as a precious birthright. Yet, there are increasing evidences of a tendency to discard this only remaining case-ending and to replace its powerful backbone with the comparatively limp and cartilaginous preposition. This tendency has not yet appeared so much in our spoken as in our written language, and even here only in the most formal parts of it. It is especially noticeable in the diction of the purely formal title and heading. That the reader may have something beyond an unsupported assertion that this is the case, I purpose to offer in evidence the titles of some recent works of fiction, and to make a brief statistical study of them. The titles were taken from the adult fiction lists in the Monthly Bulletins of the New York Free Circulating Library from November, 1895, to March, 1897, inclusive, and are all such titles as contain a possessive, whether expressed by the possessive case or by the preposition "of" with the objective. Some titles are included in which the grammatical relation is slightly different, but all admit the alternative of the case-ending "'s" or "of" followed by the objective case. Of the 101 titles thus selected, 41 use the possessive case and 60 the objective with the preposition. This proportion is in itself sufficiently suggestive, but it becomes still more so by comparing it with the corresponding proportion among a different set of titles. For this purpose 101 fiction titles were selected, just as they appeared in alphabetical order, from a library catalogue bearing the date 1889; only those being taken, as before, that contain a possessive. Of these 101, 71 use the possessive case and 30 the objective with "of." In other words, where eight years ago nearly three-quarters of such titles used the possessive case, now only two-fifths use it, a proportionate reduction of nearly one-half. The change appears still more striking when we study the titles a little more closely. Of those in the earlier series there is not one that is not good, idiomatic English as it stands, whichever form is used; we may even say that there is not one that would not be made less idiomatic by a change to the alternative form. Among the recent titles, however, while the forms using the possessive case are all better as they are, of the 60 titles that use the objective with "of" only 22 would be injured by a change, and the reason why 8 of these are better as they are is simply that change would destroy euphony. Among these eight are "The Indiscretion of the Duchess," "The Flight of a Shadow," "The Secret of Narcisse," etc., where the more idiomatic forms, "The Duchess's Indiscretion," "Narcisse's Secret," "A Shadow's Flight," etc., are certainly not euphonic. Of the others, 8 would not be injured by a change, and no less than 30 would be improved from the standpoint of idiomatic English. It may be well to quote these thirty titles. They are: "The Shadow of Hilton Fernbrook," "The Statement of Stella Maberly," "The Shadow of John Wallace," "The Banishment of Jessop Blythe," "The Desire of the Moth," "The Island of Dr. Moreau," "The Damnation of Theron Ware," "The Courtship of Morrice Buckler," "The Daughter of a Stoic," "The Lament of Dives," "The Heart of Princess Osra," "The Death of the Lion," "The Vengeance of James Vansittart," "The Wife of a Vain Man," "The Crime of Henry Vane," "The Son of Old Harry," "The Honour of Savelli," "The Life of Nancy," "The Story of Lawrence Garthe," "The Marriage of Esther," "The House of Martha," "Tales of an Engineer," "Love-letters of a Worldly Woman," "The Way of a Maid," "The Soul of Pierre," "The Day of Their Wedding," "The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard," "The Hand of Ethelberta," "The Failure of Sibyl Fletcher," "The Love-affairs of an Old Maid." Of course, in such a division as this, much must depend on individual judgment and bias. Probably no two persons would divide the list in just the same way, but it is my belief that the general result in each case would be much the same. To me the possessive in every one of the above-quoted titles would have been more idiomatic, thus: "Hilton Fernbrook's Shadow," "Stella Maberly's Statement," "John Wallace's Shadow," "Morrice Buckler's Courtship," "A Stoic's Daughter," "Henry Vane's Crime," etc., etc. In one case, at least, this fact has been recognized by a publisher, for "The Vengeance of James Vansittart," whose title is included in the list given above, has appeared in a later edition as "James Vansittart's Vengeance"--a palpable improvement. I shall not discuss the cause of this change in the use of the possessive, though it seems to me an evident Gallicism, nor shall I open the question of whether it is a mere passing fad or the beginning of an actual alteration in the language. However this may be, it seems undeniable that there is an actual and considerable difference in the use of the possessive to-day and its use ten years ago, at least in formal titles and headings. I have confined myself to book-titles, because that is the department where the tendency presents itself to me most clearly; but it may be seen on street signs, in advertisements, and in newspaper headings. It is not to be found yet in the spoken language, at least it is not noticeable there, but it would be decidedly unsafe to prophesy that it will never appear there. Ten years from now we may hear about "the breaking of the arm of John Smith" and "the hat of Tom," without a thought that these phrases have not been part of our idiomatic speech since Shakespeare's time. SELECTIVE EDUCATION[1] [1] Read before the Schoolmen of New York. Since Darwin called attention to the role of what he named "natural selection" in the genesis and preservation of species, and since his successors, both followers and opponents, have added to this many other kinds of selection that are continually operative, it has become increasingly evident that from one standpoint we may look on the sum of natural processes, organic and inorganic, as a vast selective system, as the result of which things are as they are, whether the results are the positions of celestial bodies or the relative places of human beings in the intellectual or social scale. The exact constitution of the present population of New York is the result of a great number of selective acts, some regular, others more or less haphazard. Selection is no less selection because it occurs by what we call chance--for chance is only our name for the totality of trivial and unconsidered causes. When, however, we count man and man's efforts in the sum of natural objects and forces, we have to reckon with his intelligence in these selective processes. I desire to call attention to the place that they play in educative systems and in particular to the way in which they may be furthered or made more effective by books, especially by public collections of books. When we think of any kind of training as it affects the individual, we most naturally regard it as changing that individual, as making him more fit, either for life in general or for some special form of life's activities. But when we think of it as affecting a whole community or a whole nation, we may regard it as essentially a selective process. In a given community it is not only desirable that a certain number of men should be trained to do a specified kind of work, but it is even more desirable that these should be the men that are best fitted to do this work. When Mr. Luther Burbank brings into play the selection by means of which he achieves his remarkable results in plant breeding he gets rid of the unfit by destruction, and as all are unfit for the moment that do not advance the special end that he has in view, he burns up plants--new and interesting varieties perhaps--by the hundred thousand. We cannot destroy the unfit, nor do we desire to do so, for from the educational point of view unfitness is merely bad adjustment. There is a place for every man in the world and it is the educator's business to see that he reaches it, if not by formative, then by selective processes. This selection is badly made in our present state of civilization. It depends to a large extent upon circumstances remote from the training itself--upon caprice, either that of the person to be trained or of his parents, upon accidents of birth or situation, upon a thousand irrelevant things; but in every case there are elements present in the training itself that aid in determining it. A young man begins to study medicine, and he finds that his physical repulsion for work in the dissecting-room can not be overcome. He abandons the study and by doing so eliminates an unfit person. A boy who has no head for figures enters a business college. He can not get his diploma, and the community is spared one bad bookkeeper. Certainly in some instances, possibly in all, technical and professional schools that are noted for the excellence of their product are superior not so much because they have better methods of training, but because their material is of better quality, owing to selection exercised either purposely, or automatically, or perhaps by some chance. The same is true of colleges. Of two institutions with the same curriculum and equally able instructors, the one with the widest reputation will turn out the best graduates because it attracts abler men from a wider field. This is true even in such a department as athletics. To him that hath shall be given. This is purely an automatic selective effect. It would appear desirable to dwell more upon selective features in educational training, to ascertain what they are in each case and how they work, and to control and dispose them with more systematic care. Different minds will always attach different degrees of importance to natural and acquired fitness, but probably all will agree that training bestowed upon the absolutely unfit is worse than useless, and that there are persons whose natural aptitudes are so great that upon them a minimum of training will produce a maximum effect. Such selective features as our present educational processes possess, the examination, for instance, are mostly exclusive; they aim to bar out the unfit rather than to attract the fit. Here is a feature on which some attention may well be fixt. How do these considerations affect the subject of general education? Are we to affirm that arithmetic is only for the born mathematician and Latin for the born linguist, and endeavor to ascertain who these may be? Not so; for here we are training not experts but citizens. Discrimination here must be not in the quality but in the quantity of training. We may divide the members of any community into classes according as their formal education--their school and college training--has lasted one, two, three, four, or more years. There has been a selection here, but it has operated, in general, even more imperfectly than in the case of special training. Persons who are mentally qualified to continue their schooling to the end of a college course, and who by so doing would become more useful members of the community, are obliged to be content with two or three years in the lower grades, while others, who are unfitted for the university, are kept at it until they take, or fail to take, the bachelor's degree. An ideal state of things, of course, would be to give each person the amount of general education for which he is fitted and then stop. This would be difficult of realization even if financial considerations did not so often interfere. But at least we may keep in view the desirability of preventing too many misfits and of insisting, so far as possible, on any selective features that we may discover in present systems. For instance, a powerful selective feature is the attractiveness of a given course of study to those who are desired to pursue it. If we can find a way, for example, to make our high school courses attractive to those who are qualified to take them, while at the same time rendering them very distasteful to those who are not so qualified, we shall evidently have taken a step in the right direction. It is clear that both parts of this prescription must be taken together or there is no true selection. Much has been done of late years toward making educational courses of all kinds interesting and attractive, but it is to be feared that their attractiveness has been such as to appeal to the unfit as well as to the fit. If we sugar-coat our pills indiscriminately and mix them with candy, many will partake who need another kind of medicine altogether. We must so arrange things that the fit will like while the unfit dislike, and for this purpose the less sugar-coating the better. This is no easy problem and it is intended merely to indicate it here, not to propose a general solution. The one thing to which attention should be directed is the role that may be and is played by the printed book in selective education. There is more or less effort to discredit books as educative tools and to lay emphasis on oral instruction and manual training. We need not decry these, but, it must be remembered that after all the book contains the record of man's progress; we may tell how to do a thing, and show how to do it, but we shall never do it in a better way or explain the why and wherefore, and surely transmit that ability and that explanation to posterity, without the aid of a stable record of some kind. If we are sure that our students could and would pick out only what they needed, as a wild animal picks his food in the woods, we might go far toward solving our problem, by simply turning them loose in a collection of books. Some people have minds that qualify them to profit by such "browsing," and some of these have practically educated themselves in a library. Even in the more common cases where formal training is absolutely necessary, access to other books than text-books is an aid to selection both qualitative and quantitative. Books may serve as samples. To take an extreme case, a boy who had no knowledge whatever of the nature of law or medicine would certainly not be competent to choose between them in selecting a profession, and a month spent in a library where there were books on both subjects would certainly operate to lessen his incompetence. Probably it would not be rash to assert that with free access to books, under proper guidance, both before and during a course of training, the persons who begin that course will include more of the fit and those who finish it will include less of the unfit, than without such access. Let us consider one or two concrete examples. A college boy has the choice of several different courses. He knows little of them, but thinks that one will meet his needs. He elects it and finds too late that he is wasting his time. Another boy, whose general reading has been sufficient to give him some superficial knowledge of the subject-matter in all the courses, sees clearly which will benefit him, and profits by that knowledge. Again, a boy, full of the possibilities that would lead him to appreciate the best in literature, has gained his knowledge of it from a teacher who looks upon a literary masterpiece only as something to be dissected. The student has been disgusted instead of inspired, and his whole life has been deprived of one of the purest and most uplifting of all influences. Had he been brought up in a library where he could make literary friends and develop literary enthusiasms, his course with the dry as dust teacher would have been only an unpleasant incident, instead of the wrecking of a part of his intellectual life. Still again, a boy on a farm has vague aspirations. He knows that he wants a broader horizon, to get away from his cramped environment--that is about all. How many boys, impelled by such feelings, have gone out into the world with no clear idea of what they are fitted to do, or even what they really desire! To how many others has the companionship of a few books meant the opening of a peep-hole, thru which, dimly perhaps, but none the less really, have been descried definite possibilities, needs, and opportunities! To all of these youths books have been selective aids merely--they have added little or nothing to the actual training whose extent and character they have served to point out. Such cases, which it would be easy to multiply, illustrate the value of books in the selective functions of training. To assert that they exercise such a function is only another way of saying that a mind orients itself by the widest contact with other minds. There are other ways of assuring this contact, and these should not be neglected; but only thru books can it approach universality both in space and in time. How else could we know exactly what Homer and St. Augustine and Descartes thought and what Tolstoi and Lord Kelvin and William James, we will say, are even now thinking? It has scarcely been necessary to say all this to convince you of the value of books as aids to education; but it is certainly interesting to find that in an examination of the selective processes in education, we meet with our old friends in such an important role. A general collection of books, then, constitutes an important factor in the selective part of an education. Where shall we place this collection? I venture to say that altho every school must have a library to aid in the formative part of its training, the library as a selective aid should be large and central and should preferably be at the disposal of the student not only during the period of his formal training, but before and after it. This points to the public library, and to close cooperation between it and the school, rather than to the expansion of the classroom library. This is, perhaps, not the place to dispute the wisdom of our Board of Education in developing classroom libraries, but it may be proper to put in a plea for confining them to books that bear more particularly on the subjects of instruction. The general collection of books should be outside of the school, because the boy is destined to spend most of his life outside of the school. His education by no means ends with his graduation. The agents that operate to develop and change him will be at work so long as he lives, and it is desirable that the book should be one of these. If he says good-by to the book when he leaves school, that part of his training is likely to be at an end. If he uses, in connection with, and parallel to, his formal education a general collection of books outside of the school, he will continue to use it after he leaves school. And even so far as the special classroom library is concerned, it must be evident that a large general collection of books that may be drawn upon freely is a useful supplement. For the teacher's professional use, the larger the collection at his disposal the better. A sum of money spent by the city in improving and making adequate the pedagogical section of its public library, particularly in the department of circulation, will be expended to greater advantage than many times the amount devoted to a large number of small collections on the same subjects in schools. These are the considerations that have governed the New York Public Library in its effort to be of assistance to the teachers and pupils in the public schools of the city. Stated formally, these efforts manifest themselves in the following directions: (1) The making of library use continuous from the earliest possible age, thru school life and afterwards; (2) Cooperation with the teacher in guiding and limiting the child's reading during the school period; (3) Aid within the library in the preparation of school work; (4) The supplementing of classroom libraries by the loan of books in quantity; (5) The cultivation of personal relations between library assistants and teachers in their immediate neighborhood; (6) The furnishing of accurate and up-to-date information to schools regarding the library's resources and its willingness to place them at the school's disposal; (7) The increase of the library's circulation collection along lines suggested and desired by teachers; (8) The granting of special privileges to teachers and special students who use the library for purposes of study. Toward the realization of these aims three departments are now cooperating, each of them in charge of an expert in his or her special line of work. (1) The children's rooms in the various libraries, now under the direction of an expert supervisor. (2) The traveling library office. (3) The division of school work, with an assistant in each branch, under skilled headquarters superintendence. When our plans, which are already in good working order, are completely carried out, we shall be able to guarantee to every child guidance in his reading up to and thru his school course, with direction in a line of influence that will make him a user of books thruout his life and create in him a feeling of attachment to the public library as the home and dispenser of books and as a permanent intellectual refuge from care, trouble, and material things in general, as well as a mine of information on all subjects that may benefit or interest him. Some of the obstacles to the immediate realization of our plans in full may be briefly stated as follows: (1) Lack of sufficient funds. With more money we could buy more books, pay higher salaries, and employ more persons. The assistants in charge of children's rooms should be women of the highest culture and ability, and it is difficult to secure proper persons at our present salaries. Assistants in charge of school work must be persons of tact and quickness of perception, and they should have no other work to do; whereas at present we are obliged to give this work to library assistants in addition to their ordinary routine duties, to avoid increasing our staff by about forty assistants, which our appropriation does not permit. (2) Misunderstanding on the part of the public, and also to some extent on the part of teachers, of our aims, ability, and attitude. This I am glad to say is continually lessening. We can scarcely expect that each of our five hundred assistants should be thoroly imbued with the spirit of helpfulness toward the schools or even that they should perfectly understand what we desire and aim to do. Nor can we expect that our wish to aid should be appreciated by every one of fifty thousand teachers or a million parents. This will come in time. (3) A low standard of honesty on the part of certain users of the library. It is somewhat disheartening to those who are laboring to do a public service to find that some of those whom they are striving to benefit, look upon them merely as easy game. To prevent this and at the same time to withstand those who urge that such misuse of the library should be met by the withdrawal of present privileges and facilities uses up energy that might otherwise be directed toward the improvement of our service. Now, like the intoxicated man, we sometimes refuse invitations to advance because it is "all we can do to stay where we are." Here is an opportunity for all the selective influences that we may bring to bear, and unfortunately the library can have but little part in these. Have I wandered too far from my theme? The good that a public library may do, the influence that it may exert, and the position that it may assume in a community, depend very largely on the ability and tact with which it is administered and the resources at its disposal. Its public services may be various, but probably there is no place in which it may be of more value than side by side with the public school; and I venture to think that this is the case largely because education to be complete must select as well as train, must compel the fit to step forward and the unfit to retire, and must do this, not only at the outset of a course of training but continuously thruout its duration. We speak of a student being "put thru the mill," and we must not forget that a mill not only grinds and stamps into shape but also sifts and selects. A finished product of a given grade is always such not only by virtue of formation and adaptation but also by virtue of selection. In human training one of the most potent of these selective agencies is the individual will, and to train that will and make it effective in the right direction there is nothing better than constant association with the records of past aims and past achievements. This must be my excuse for saying so much of libraries in general, and of one library in particular, in an address on what I have ventured to give the name of Selective Education. THE USES OF FICTION[2] [2] Read before the American Library Association, Asheville Conference, May 28, 1907. Literature is becoming daily more of a dynamic and less of a static phenomenon. In other days the great body of written records remained more or less stable and with its attendant body of tradition did its work by a sort of quiet pressure on that portion of the community just beneath it--on a special class peculiarly subject to its influence. To-day we have added to this effect that of a moving multitude of more or less ephemeral books, which appear, do their work, and pass on out of sight. They are light, but they make up for their lack of weight by the speed and ease with which they move. Owing to them the use of books is becoming less and less limited to a class, and more and more familiar to the masses. The book nowadays is in motion. Even the classics, the favorites of other days, have left their musty shelves and are moving out among the people. Where one man knew and loved Shakespeare a century ago, a thousand know and love him to-day. The literary blood is circulating and in so doing is giving life to the body politic. In thus wearing itself out the book is creating a public appreciation that makes itself felt in a demand for reprinting, hence worthy books are surer of perpetuation in this swirling current than they were in the old time reservoir. But besides these books whose literary life is continuous, though their paper and binding may wear out, there are other books that vanish utterly. By the time that the material part of them needs renewing, the book itself has done its work. Its value at that moment is not enough, or is not sufficiently appreciated, to warrant reprinting. It drops out of sight and its place is taken by another, fresh from the press. This part of our moving literature is what is called ephemeral, and properly so; but no stigma necessarily attaches to the name. In the first place, it is impossible to draw a line between the ephemeral and the durable. "One storm in the world's history has never cleared off," said the wit--"the one we are having now." Yet the conditions of to-day, literary as well as meteorological, are not necessarily lasting. We are accustomed to regard what we call standard literature as necessarily the standard of innumerable centuries to come, forgetful of the fact that other so-called standards have "had their day and ceased to be." Some literature lasts a century, some a year, some a week; where shall we draw the line below which all must be condemned as ephemeral? Is it not possible that all literary work that quickly achieves a useful purpose and having achieved it passes at once out of sight, may really count for as much as one that takes the course of years to produce its slow results? The most ephemeral of all our literary productions--the daily paper--is incalculably the most influential, and its influence largely depends on this dynamic quality that has been noted--the penetrative power of a thing of light weight moving at a high speed. And this penetrative power effective literature must have to-day on account of the vastly increased mass of modern readers. Reading is no longer confined to a class, it is well-nigh universal, in our own country, at least. And the habit of mind of the thoughtful and intent reader is not an affair of one generation but of many. New readers are young readers, and they have the characteristics of intellectual youth. Narrative--the recapitulation of one's own or someone else's experience, the telling of a story--is the earliest form in which artistic effort of any kind is appreciated. The pictorial art that appeals to the young or the ignorant is the kind that tells a story--perhaps historical painting on enormous canvasses, perhaps the small genre picture, possibly something symbolic or mythological; but at any rate it must embody a narrative, whether it is that of the signing of a treaty, a charge of dragoons, a declaration of love or the feeding of chickens. The same is true of music. The popular song tells something, almost without exception. Even in instrumental music, outside of dance rhythms, whose suggestion of the delights of bodily motion is a reason of their popularity, the beginner likes program music of some kind, or at least its suggestion. So it is in literature. With those who are intellectually young, whether young in years or not, the narrative form of expression is all in all. It is, of course, in all the arts, a most important mode, even in advanced stages of development. We shall never be able to do without narrative in painting, sculpture, music and poetry; but wherever, in a given community, the preference for this form of expression in any art is excessive, we may be sure that appreciation of that form of art is newly aroused. This is an interesting symptom and a good sign. To be sure, apparent intellectual youth may be the result of intellectual decadence; there is a second as well as a first childhood, but it is not difficult to distinguish between them. In general, if a large proportion of those in a community who like to look at pictures, prefer such as "tell a story," this fact, if the number of the appreciative is at the same time increasing, means a newly stimulated interest in art. And similarly, if a large proportion of those persons who enjoy reading prefer the narrative forms of literature, while at the same time their total numbers are on the increase, this surely indicates a newly aroused interest in books. And this is precisely the situation in which we find ourselves to-day. A very large proportion of the literature that we circulate is in narrative form--how large a proportion I daresay few of us realize. Not only all the fiction, adult and juvenile, but all the history, biography and travel, a large proportion of literature and periodicals, some of the sciences, including all reports of original research, and a lesser proportion of the arts, philosophy and religion, are in this form. It may be interesting to estimate the percentage of narrative circulated by a large public library, and I have attempted this in the case of the New York public library for the year ending July 1, 1906. Class Per cent. Estimated per Fiction cent. of narrative Juvenile 26 Adult 32 ........... 58 58 History ................. 6 6 Biography ............... 3 3 Travel .................. 3 3 Literature .............. 7 3 Periodicals ............. 4 2 Sciences ................ 9 3 Arts .................... 3 1 Philos. & Relig. ........ 2 1 Foreign ................. 5 4 --- -- 100 84 In other words, if my estimates are not too much out of the way--and I have tried to be conservative--only 16 per cent. of our whole circulation, and 38 per cent. of our non-fiction, is non-narrative, despite the fact that our total fiction percentage is low. I attach little importance in this regard to any distinction between true and fictitious narrative, people who read novels do not enjoy them simply because the subject matter is untrue. They enjoy the books because they are interesting. In fact, in most good fiction, little beside the actual sequence of the events in the plot and the names of the characters is untrue. The delineation of character, the descriptions of places and events and the statements of fact are intended to be true, and the further they depart from truth the less enjoyable they are. Indeed, when one looks closely into the matter, the dividing line between what we call truth and fiction in narrative grows more and more hazy. In pictorial art we do not attempt to make it at all. Our museums do not classify their pictures into true and imaginary. Our novels contain so much truth and our other narrative works so much fiction, that it is almost as difficult to draw the line in the literary as it is in the pictorial arts. And in any case objections to a work of fiction, as well as commendations, must be based on considerations apart from this classification. To represent a fictitious story as real or an imaginary portrait as a true one is, of course, a fault, but the story and the portrait may both be of the highest excellence when the subjects are wholly imaginary. It should be noted that the crime of false representation, when committed with success, removes a work from library classification as fiction and places it in one of the other classes. Indeed, it is probable that much more lasting harm is done by false non-fiction than by fiction. The reader, provided he uses literature temperately, has much less need to beware of the novel, which he reads frankly for entertainment, than of the history full of "things that are not so," of the biased biography, of science "popularized" out of all likeness to nature, of absurd theories in sociology or cosmology, of silly and crude ideas masquerading as philosophy, of the out-and-out falsehood of fake travellers and pseudo-naturalists. In what has gone before it has been assumed that the reader is temperate. One may read to excess either in fiction or non-fiction, and the result is the same; mental over-stimulation, with the resulting reaction. One may thus intoxicate himself with history, psychology or mathematics--the mathematics-drunkard is the worst of all literary debauchees when he does exist--and the only reason why fiction-drunkenness is more prevalent is that fiction is more attractive to the average man. We do not have to warn the reader against over-indulgence in biography or art-criticism, any more than we have to put away the vichy bottle when a bibulous friend appears, or forbid the children to eat too many shredded-wheat biscuits. Fiction has the fatal gift of being too entertaining. The novel-writer must be interesting or he fails; the historian or the psychologist does not often regard it as necessary--unless he happens to be a Frenchman. But with this danger of literary surfeit or over-stimulation, I submit that the librarian has nothing to do; it is beyond his sphere, at least in so far as he deals with the adult reader. We furnish parks and playgrounds for our people; we police them and see that they contain nothing harmful, but we cannot guarantee that they will not be used to excess--that a man may not, for example, be so enraptured with the trees and the squirrels that he will give up to their contemplation time that should be spent in supporting his family. So in the library we may and do see that harmful literature is excluded, but we cannot be expected to see that books which are not in themselves injurious are not sometimes used to excess. I venture to suggest that very much of our feeling of disquietude about the large use of fiction in the public library and elsewhere arises from our misapprehension of something that must always force itself upon the attention in a state of society where public education and public taste are on the increase. In this case the growth will necessarily be uneven in different departments of knowledge and taste, and in different localities; so that discrepancies frequently present themselves. We may observe, for instance, a quietly and tastefully dressed woman reading, we will say, Laura Jean Libbey. We are disconcerted, and the effect is depressing. But the discrepancy may arise in either of two ways. If we have here a person formerly possessing good taste both in dress and reading, whose taste in the latter regard has deteriorated, we certainly have cause for sadness; but if, as is much more likely, we have one who had formerly bad taste of both kinds and whose taste in dress has improved, we should rather rejoice. The argument is the same whether the change has taken place in the same generation or in more than one. Our masses are moving upward and the progress along the more material lines is often more rapid than in matters of the intellect. Or, on the contrary, intellectual progress may be in advance of manners. Such discrepancies are frequently commented upon by foreign travelers in the United States, who almost invariably misinterpret them in the same way. Can we blame them, when we make the same mistake ourselves? M. Jules Huret, in his recent interesting book "En Amerique," notes frequently the lapses in manners and taste of educated persons among us. He describes, for instance, the bad table-manners of a certain clergyman. His thought is evidently, "How shocking that a clergyman should act in this way!" But we might also put it: "How admirable that professional education in this country is so easily obtained that one of a class in which such manners prevail can secure it! How encouraging that he should desire to enter the ministry and succeed in doing so!" These are extreme standpoints; we need of course endorse neither of them. But when I find that on the upper west side of New York, where the patrons of our branch libraries are largely the wives and daughters of business men with good salaries, whose general scale of living is high, the percentage of fiction circulated is unduly great, I do not say, as I am tempted to do "How surprising and how discouraging that persons of such apparent cultivation should read nothing but fiction, and that not of the highest grade!" I say rather: "What an evidence it is of our great material prosperity that persons in an early stage of mental development, as evidenced by undue preference for narrative in literature, are living in such comfort or even luxury!" Is not this the right way to look at it? I confess that I can see no reason for despairing of the American people because it reads more fiction than it used to read, so long as this is for the same reason that a ten year old boy reads more stories than a baby. Intellectual youth is at least an advance over mental infancy so long as it is first childhood--not second. It is undoubtedly our duty, as it is our pleasure, to help these people to grow, but we cannot force them, and should not try. Complete growth may take several generations. And even when full stature has been obtained, literature in its narrative modes, though not so exclusively as now, will still be loved and read. Romance will always serve as the dessert in the feast of reason--and we should recollect that sugar is now highly regarded as a food. It is a producer of energy in easily available form, and, thinking on some such novels as "Uncle Tom," "Die Waffen nieder" and shall we say "The jungle"? we realize that this thing is a parable, which the despiser of fiction may well read as he runs. THE VALUE OF ASSOCIATION[3] [3] An address delivered before the Library Associations of Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, Indiana and Ohio, October 9-18, 1907. Man is a gregarious animal; he cannot think, act, or even exist except in certain relations to others of his kind. For a complete description of those relations we must go to a treatise on sociology; our present subject is a very brief consideration of certain groups of individuals, natural or voluntary, and the application of the laws that govern such groups to the voluntary associations with which we are all familiar in library work. Men have joined together to effect certain things that they could not accomplish singly, ever since two savages found that they could lift a heavy log or stone together, when neither one could manage it alone. Until recently the psychology of human groups has received little study. Le Bon, in his book on "The Crowd," gives the modern treatment of it. A group of persons does not think and act precisely as each of its component individuals would think or act. The very act of association, loose as it may be, introduces a new factor. Even the two savages lifting the log do not work together precisely as either would have worked singly. Their co-operation affects their activity; and both thought and action may likewise be affected in larger groupings even by the mere proximity of the individuals of the group, where there is no stronger bond. But although the spirit that collectively animates a group of men cannot be calculated by taking an arithmetical sum, it does depend on that possessed by each individual in the group, and more particularly on what is common to them all and on the nature of the bonds that connect them. Even a chance group of persons previously unconnected and unrelated is bound together by feelings common to all humanity and may be appealed to collectively on such grounds. The haphazard street crowd thrills with horror at the sight of a baby toddling in front of a trolley-car and shouts with joy when the motorman stops just in time. But the same crowd, if composed of newly-arrived Poles, Hungarians and Slovaks, would fail utterly to respond to some patriotic appeal that might move an American crowd profoundly. You may sway a Methodist congregation with a tale of John Wesley that would leave Presbyterians or Episcopalians cold. Try a Yale mob with "Boola" and then play the same tune at Princeton, and watch the effect. Thus, the more carefully our group is selected the more particular and definite are the motives that we can bring to bear in it, and the more powerful will its activities be along its own special lines. The mob in the street may be roused by working on elemental passions--so roused it will kill or burn, but you cannot excite in it enthusiasm for Dante's Inferno, or induce it to contribute money or labor toward the preparation of a new annotated edition. To get such enthusiasm and stimulate such action you must work upon a body of men selected and brought together for this very purpose. Besides this, we must draw a distinction between natural and artificial groups. The group brought together by natural causes and not by man's contriving is generally lower in the scale of civilization when it acts collectively than any one of its components. This is the case with a mob, a tribe, even a municipal group. But an artificial or selected group, where the grouping is for a purpose and has been specially effected with that end in view may act more intelligently, and be, so far as its special activities are concerned, more advanced in the scale of progress than its components as individuals. There is the same difference as between a man's hand and a delicate tool. The former is the result of physical evolution only; the latter of evolution into which the brain of man has entered as a factor. The tool is not as good for "all round" use as the hand; but to accomplish its particular object it is immeasurably superior. If, then, we are to accomplish anything by taking advantage of the very peculiar crowd or group psychology--owing to which a collected body of men may feel as a group and act as a group, differently from the way in which any one of its components would feel or act--we must see that our group is properly selected and constituted. This does not mean that we are to go about and choose individuals, one by one, by the exercise of personal judgment. Such a method is generally inferior and unnecessary. If we desire to separate the fine from the coarse grains in a sand-pile we do not set to work with a microscope to measure them, grain by grain; we use a sieve. The sieve will not do to separate iron filings from copper filings of exactly the same size, but here a magnet will do the business. And so separation or selection can almost always be accomplished by choosing an agency adapted to the conditions; and such agencies often act automatically without the intervention of the human will. In a voluntary association formed to accomplish a definite purpose we have a self-selected group. Such a body may be freely open to the public, as all our library clubs and associations practically are; yet it is still selective, for no one would care to join it who is not in some way interested in its objects. On the other hand, the qualifications for membership may be numerous and rigid, in which case the selection is more limited. The ideal of efficiency in an association is probably reached when the body is formed for a single definite purpose and the terms of admission are so arranged that each of its members is eager above all things to achieve its end and is specially competent to work for it, the purpose of the grouping being merely to attain the object more surely, thoroughly and rapidly. A good example is a thoroughly trained military organization, all of whose members are enthusiastic in the cause for which the body is fighting--a band of patriots, we will say--or perhaps a band of brigands, for what we have been saying applies to evil as well as to good associations. The most efficient of such bodies may be very temporary, as when three persons, meeting by chance, unite to help each other over a wall that none of them could scale by himself, and, having reached the other side, separate again. The more clearly cut and definite the purpose the less the necessity of retaining the association after its accomplishment. The more efficient the association the sooner its aims are accomplished and the sooner it is disbanded. Such groups or bodies, by their very nature are affairs of small detail and not of large and comprehensive purpose. As they broaden out into catholicity they necessarily lose in efficiency. And even when they are accomplishing their aims satisfactorily the very largeness of those aims, the absence of sharp outline and clear definition, frequently gives rise to complaint. I know of clubs and associations that are doing an immense amount of good, in some cases altering for the better the whole intellectual or moral tone of a community, but that are the objects of criticism because they do not act in matters of detail. "Why don't they do something?" is the constant cry. And "doing something," as you may presently discover, is carrying on some small definite, relatively unimportant activity that is capable of clear description and easily fixes the attention, while the greater services, to the public and to the individual, of the association's quiet influences pass unnoticed. The church that has driven out of business one corner-saloon gets more praise than the one that has made better men and women of a whole generation in one neighborhood; the police force that catches one sensational murderer is more applauded than the one that has made life and property safe for years in its community by quiet, firm pressure. There is no reason of course, why the broader and the more definite activities may not be united, to some degree, in one organization. Either smaller groups with related aims may federate for the larger purpose, or the larger may itself be the primary group, and may subdivide into sections each with its specified object. Both these plans or a combination of the two may be seen in many of our large organizations, and it is this combination that seems finally to have been selected as the proper form of union for the libraries and the librarians of the United States. We have a large organization which, as it has grown more and more unwieldy, has been subdivided into smaller specialized sections without losing its continuity for its broader and perhaps vaguer work. At the same time, specialized bodies with related aims have been partially or wholly absorbed, until, by processes partly of subdivision and partly of accretion, we have a body capable of dealing alike with the general and the special problems of library work. It should not be forgotten, however, that its success in dealing with both kinds of problems is still conditioned by the laws already laid down. The general association, as it grows larger, will be marked less and less by the enthusiasm of the specialist, will be less and less efficient, will move more slowly, will deliver its opinions with reticence and will hesitate to act upon them. The smaller constituent bodies will be affected by none of these drawbacks, but their purposes appeal to the few and their actions, though more energetic, will often seem to the majority of the larger group devoid of meaning. This is, of course, the case with the National Educational Association, the American Association for the Advancement of Science, and hosts of similar bodies here and abroad. To state the difficulty is merely to confess that all attempts hitherto have failed to form a group that is at once comprehensive, powerful and efficient, both in the larger matters with which it deals and in details. Probably the most successful attempt of this kind is formulated in the Constitution of the United States itself and is being carried on in our country from day to day, yet successful as it is, our history is witness, and the daily press testifies, that the combination of general and local governments has its weak points and is dependent for its smooth working on the cordial consent and forbearance of the governed. This is true also of smaller combinations. In our own organization it is easy to find fault, it is easy to discover points of friction; only by the cordial effort of every member to minimize these points can such an organization begin to accomplish its aims. Failure is much more apt to be due to lack of appreciation of this fact than to any defect in the machinery of organization. This being the case we are thrown back upon consideration of the membership of our institution. How should it be selected and how constituted? The constitution of the association says that "Any person or institution engaged in library work may become a member by paying the annual dues, and others after election by the executive board." We have thus two classes of members, those by their own choice and those by election. The annual lists of members do not record the distinction, but among those in the latest list we find 24 booksellers, 17 publishers, 5 editors, 9 school and college officials, 8 government employees not in libraries, and 24 wives and relatives of other members, while in the case of 132 persons no qualification is stated in the list. We have or have had as our associates, settlement workers, lawyers, lecturers, indexers, binders, and so on almost indefinitely. Our membership is thus freely open to librarians, interpreting this word very broadly, and to any others that we may desire to have with us, which means, practically, any who have sufficient interest in library work to come to the meetings. We must, therefore, be classed with what may be called the "open" as opposed to the "closed" professional or technical associations. The difference may be emphasized by a reference to two well-known New York clubs, the Players and the Authors. These organizations would appear by their names to be composed respectively of actors and writers. The former, however, admits also to membership persons interested in the drama, which may mean little or much, while the Authors Club, despite repeated efforts to broaden it out in the same way, has insisted on admitting none but _bona fide_ authors. In advocacy of the first plan it may be said that by adopting it the Players has secured larger membership, embracing many men of means. Its financial standing is better and it is enabled to own a fine club house. On the other hand, the Authors has a small membership, and owns practically no property, but makes up in _esprit de corps_ what it lacks in these other respects. It is another phase of the question of specialization that we have already considered. The larger and broader body has certain advantages, the smaller and more compact, certain others. We have, doubtless been right in deciding, or rather in accepting what circumstances seem to have decided for us, that our own association shall be of the larger and less closely knit type, following the analogy of the National Educational Association and the various associations for the advancement of science, American, British and French, rather than that of the Society of Civil Engineers, for instance, or the various learned academies. Our body has thus greater general but less special influence, just as on a question of general scientific policy a petition from the American association might carry greater weight, whereas on a question of engineering it would be incomparably inferior to an opinion of the civil engineers. There is in this country, it is true, a general scientific body of limited membership--the National Academy of Sciences, which speaks both on general and special questions with expert authority. In the formation of the American Library Institute it was sought to create some such special body of librarians, but it is too soon to say whether or not that expectation is to be fulfilled. The fact remains that in the American Library Association we are committed to very nearly the broadest plan of organization and work that is possible. We are united only by our connection with library work or our interest in its success, and are thus limited in our discussions and actions as a body to the most general problems that may arise in this connection, leaving the special work to our sections and affiliated societies, which are themselves somewhat hampered by our size in the treatment of the particular subjects that come before them, inasmuch as they are not separate groups whose freedom of action no one can call in question. In illustration of the limitations of a general body of the size and scope of our Association, I may perhaps be allowed to adduce the recent disagreement among librarians regarding the copyright question, or rather regarding the proper course to be followed in connection with the conference on that question called by the Librarian of Congress. It will be remembered that this conference was semi-official and was due to the desire of members of Congress to frame a bill that should be satisfactory to the large number of conflicting interests involved. To this conference our Association was invited to send, and did send, delegates. It is obvious that if these and all the other delegates to the conference had simply held out for the provisions most favorable to themselves no agreement would have been possible and the objects of the conference would have been defeated. Recognizing this, all the bodies and interests represented worked from the beginning to secure an agreement, striving only that it should be such as would represent a minimum of concession on all sides. This view was shared by the delegates of this Association. The law as it stood was, it is true, most favorable to libraries in its provisions regarding importation, and the retention of these provisions might have been facilitated by withdrawal from the conference and subsequent opposition to whatever new bill might have been framed. But the delegates assumed that they were appointed to confer, not to withdraw, and that if the Association had desired to hold aloof from the conference that result would have been best attained by appointing no delegates at all. The Association's delegates accordingly joined with their fellows in the spirit of compromise to agree on such a bill as might be least unacceptable to all, and the result was a measure slightly, but only slightly, less favorable to libraries than the existing law. With the presentation of this bill to the proper committees of Congress, and a formal statement that they approved it on behalf of the Association, the duties of the delegates ended. And here begins to appear the applicability of this chapter from library history to what has preceded. The action of the delegates was officially that of the Association. But it was disapproved by very many members of the Association on the ground that it seemed likely to result in lessening the importation privilege of libraries. Whether these dissidents were in a majority or not it seemed impossible to say. The Association's legislative body, the Council, twice refused to disapprove or instruct the delegates, thus tacitly approving their action, but the dissidents asserted that the Council, in this respect, did not rightly reflect the opinion of the Association. The whole situation was an instructive illustration of the difficulty of getting a large body of general scope to act on a definite, circumscribed question, or even of ascertaining its opinion or its wishes regarding such action. Recognizing this, the dissidents properly and wisely formed a separate association with a single end in view--the retention of present library importation privileges, and especially the defeat of the part of the bill affecting such privileges as drafted in the conference. The efforts of this body have been crowned with success in that the bill as reported by the committee contains a modified provision acceptable to the dissidents. Thus a relatively small body formed for a definite purpose has quickly accomplished that purpose, while the objects of the larger body have been expressed but vaguely, and so far as they have been definitely formulated have failed of accomplishment. There is a lesson in this both for our own association and for others. It must not be assumed, however, that limitation of action along the lines I have indicated means weakness of organization. On the contrary, foreign observers have generally testified to the exceptional strength and efficiency of societies and groups of all kinds in this country. It may be interesting to quote here what a recent French writer on the United States has to say of the part played by associations of all kinds in our national life. And, in passing, he who is proud of his country nowadays should read what is said of her by French and German, and even English writers. The muck-raking is all on this side of the water. The writer from whom I quote, M. Paul de Rousiers, author of "La Vie Américaine," does not commend without discrimination, which makes what he has to say of more value. He notes at the outset that "the spirit of free association is widely extended in the United States, and it produces results of surprising efficiency." There are two motives for association, he thinks, the consciousness of weakness, which is generally operative abroad, and the consciousness of strength, which is our motive here. He says: The need of association comes generally from the conscience of one's own feebleness or indolence.... When such people join they add together their incapacities; hence the failure of many societies formed with great eclat. On the contrary, when men accustomed to help themselves without depending on their neighbors form an association, it is because they really find themselves facing a common difficulty ... such persons add their capacities; they form a powerful union of capables, the only one that has force. Hence the general success of American associations. The radical difference in the motives for association here and in the old world was noted long ago by De Tocqueville, who says: European societies are naturally led to introduce into their midst military customs and formulas.... The members of such associations respond to a word of command like soldiers in a campaign; they profess the dogma of passive obedience, or rather, by uniting, they sacrifice entirely, at a single stroke, their judgment and free will.... In American associations, on the other hand, individual independence finds its part; as in society every man moves at the same time toward the same goal, but all are not forced to go by the same road. No one sacrifices his will or his reason, but applies them both toward the success of the common enterprise. Commenting on this, De Rousiers goes on: This is not to say that the discipline necessary to the pursuit of the common end is less exact than with us. As far as I can judge, the members of an American association, on the contrary, take their obligations more seriously than we, and precisely because they have undertaken them very freely, without being forced into them by environment or fashion, and also because the heads of the association have not sought to make it serve their own interests. In fine, their discipline is strong, but it is applied only to one precise object; it may thus subsist intact and without tyranny, despite the most serious divergences of view among the members regarding objects foreign to its aim. These happy conditions--this large and concrete mind, joined to the effective activity of the Americans, have given rise to a multitude of groups that are rendering the greatest service. De Rousiers enlarges on this point at great length and gives many illustrations. He returns to it even when he appears to have gone on to other subjects. In an account of a visit to a militia encampment in Massachusetts, where he was inclined at the outset to scoff at the lack of formal military training, but finally became enthusiastic over the individual efficiency and interest of the militiamen, he ends by saying: What I have seen here resembles what I have seen everywhere throughout the United States; each organism, each individual, preserves all its freedom, as far as it can; hence the limited and special character of the public authorities, to whom little is left to do. This doubtless detracts from the massed effects that we are in the habit of producing; we are apt to think that this kind of liberty is only disorder; but individual efforts are more energetic and when they converge toward a single end, by spontaneous choice of each will, their power is incalculable. This it is that makes the strength of America. An interesting and satisfactory summary. There is, however, another way of looking at it. A well-known scientific man recently expressed to me his conviction that an "American" association of any kind is destined to failure, whether it be of scientific men, commercial travellers or plumbers. By "American" here he meant continental in extent. There may thus be, according to this view, a successful Maine hotel-keeper's association, a New York bar association, or a Pennsylvania academy of fine arts, but no such body truly representative of the whole United States. Many such organizations are "American" or "National" in name only; for instance, the "American" Academy of Sciences, which is a Boston institution, or the "National" Academy of Fine Arts, which belongs to New York City. Many bodies have attempted to obviate this trouble by the creation of local sections in different parts of the country, and the newly-formed Society of Illuminating Engineers has, I understand, in mind the organization of perfectly co-ordinate bodies in various parts of the country, without any attempt to create a central body having headquarters at a definite place. This is somewhat as if the American Library Association should consist of the federated state associations, perhaps with a council consisting of a single representative from each. It would seem to be a workable and rather attractive plan. We may remind ourselves again that the United States itself is the classic example of an American association, and that it has been fairly successful by adopting this very system. Our recognition of the necessity of local divisions in our own association and of close affiliation with the various state bodies is shown by the recent resolution of the council providing for sectional meetings and by the presence at this and several other state meetings in the present month of an official representative of the American Library Association. That these, or similar means of making our national body continental in something more than name are necessary we may freely admit. Possibly it may take some years of experimentation, ending perhaps in appropriate constitutional revision, to hit upon the best arrangement. Too much centralization is bad; but there must be some centralization. We must have our capital and our legislative and administrative machinery, as the United States has at Washington. For legislative purposes our Washington is a shifting one. It is wherever the Association may hold its annual meeting and wherever the Council may convene in the interim. For such administrative and executive purposes as require a fixed location, our Washington is for the present in Boston. Next year it may be elsewhere; but whether it shall remain there or move to some other place would seem to be a matter of small importance. Wherever it may be, it will be inaccessible to a large majority of American librarians. If immediate accessibility is a requisite, therefore, some of its functions may and should be divided. It may not be too much to look forward to a sectional headquarters in every state in the Union, related perhaps to the general headquarters somewhat as branch libraries to a central library, or, perhaps, carried on under the auspices of the state associations. At any rate, it is encouraging to reflect that we are not insensible to the obstacles in the way of making our own, or any other association truly American in scope, and are experimenting toward obviating them. All these considerations appear to me to lead to one conclusion--the duty of every librarian to become and remain a member of the American Library Association. I do not desire to dwell on the direct advantages that membership offers--these are not few, and they are sufficiently obvious. Possibly most of those who are likely to be affected by them are already members of the Association. I would recommend for consideration higher grounds than these. Instead of asking the question, "What is there in it for me?" I should inquire, "What is there in it for other people?" How will it benefit the general status of library work, the general standing of librarians in the community, the influence of libraries on those who use or ought to use them--these and a hundred other elements of progress that are closely bound up with the success of library effort, but that may not add to the welfare of any one individual. There seems to be no doubt that the answers to these questions all point toward increased membership. As we have chosen to work along the broader lines and by the energy of mass rather than that of velocity--with the sledge-hammer rather than the rifle bullet--it is surely our duty to make that mass as efficient and as impressive as possible, which means that it must be swelled to the largest possible proportions. Large membership may be efficient in two ways, by united weight and by pervasiveness. An army is powerful in the first way. Ten thousand men concentrated in one spot may strike a sledge-hammer blow and carry all before them. Yet the same ten thousand men may police a great city without even seeing one another. Scattered about on different beats they are everywhere. Every block or two one meets a patrol and the sense of security that they give is overwhelming. It is in this way, it seems to me, that large membership in the American Library Association may be effective. We meet together but once a year, and even then we do not bring out our full force. We have no intention of marching on Washington _en masse_ to secure legislation or even of forcing our trustees to raise salaries by a general library strike. But if we can make it an unusual thing for a librarian not to be a member of the American Library Association; if wherever one goes he meets our members and recognizes what they stand for, then, it seems to me, public opinion of librarians and librarianship is sure to rise. Our two savages, who band together for a few moments to lift a log, become by that act of association marked men among their fellows; the mere fact that they have intelligence enough to work together for any purpose raises them above the general level. It is not alone that increasing numbers, strength, and influence make for the glory of the Association itself; the most successful bodies of this kind are those that exalt, not themselves but the professions, localities or ideals that they represent. It is because increasing our numbers and scattering our membership throughout the land will increase the influence of the library and strengthen the hands of those who work in it that I believe such increase a worthy object of our effort. Associations and societies come and go, form and disband; they are no more immortal than the men and women that compose them. Yet an association, like a man, should seek to do the work that lies before it with all its strength, and to keep that strength at its maximum of efficiency. So doing, it may rest content that, be its accomplishment large or small, its place in the history of human endeavor is worthy and secure. MODERN EDUCATIONAL METHODS Those who complain that the average of general education has been lowered are both right and wrong--right literally and wrong in the general impression that they give. It is undoubtedly true that among young persons with whom an educated adult comes intellectually in contact the average of culture is lower than it was twenty years ago. This is not, however, because the class of persons who were well educated then are to-day less well trained, but rather because the class has been recruited from the ignorant classes, by the addition of persons who were not educated at all then, or educated very slightly, and who are now receiving a higher, though still inadequate degree of training. In other words the average of education among all persons in the community is higher, but the average among educated persons is lower, because the educated class has been enlarged by the addition of large numbers of slightly educated persons. This phenomenon is common to all stages of progress in all sorts of things. It is true, for instance, in the general advance of the world in civilization. The average degree of appreciation of art among persons who know anything of art at all is less, for instance, than in the days of ancient Greece, because the class of art-lovers throughout the world is vastly larger and includes a very large number of persons whose appreciation of art is slight and crude. There is, nevertheless, a greater total amount of love for art, and a higher average of art education, taking into account the world's entire population, than there was then. Let us state the case mathematically: If, of one thousand persons, ten have a hundred dollars each and the rest nothing, a gift of five dollars each to five hundred others will raise the average amount owned by each of the thousand, but will greatly lower the average amount held by the property owners in the group, who will now number 510, instead of ten. "How do you demonstrate all this?" will probably be asked. I do not know of any statistical data that will enable it to be proved directly, but it is certain that education is becoming more general, which must increase the number of partly educated persons having an imperfect educational background--a lack of ancestral training and home influence. Thus, among the persons with whom the educated adult comes in contact, he necessarily meets a larger number of individuals than formerly who betray lack of education in speech, writing or taste; and he wrongly concludes that the schools are not doing their work properly. If the schools were not doing their work properly, we should have direct statistical evidence of it, and all the direct evidence I have seen goes to show that the schools are accomplishing more to-day and accomplishing it by better methods, than ever before. Similarly, I believe that the totality of teaching ability in the profession has increased. The conspicuous failures are persons who are unfit to be teachers and who have been drafted into service because of our sudden increase in educational plant. The result in some cases has been a curious aberration in disciplinary methods--a freakishness that is inseparable from any sudden advance such as we are making. Our schools can and will advance much further in personnel, methods and results; but they are by no means on the downward path now. One way in which they may do better work is by greater appreciation of their selective as well as their training function. Suppose we have twenty bushels of raspberries and the same quantity of potatoes to be prepared for food. Our present educational methods are a good deal like those of a cook who should try to make the whole into either jam or Saratoga chips, or should divide the lot in some arbitrary way unrelated to their fitness for one or the other operation. We are giving in our educational institutions many degrees and many kinds of training without proper selection of the persons to whom the training is to be applied. Selection must be and is made, of course, but it is made on arbitrary lines, or for reasons unrelated to fitness. One boy's education lasts ten years, and another's two, not because the former is fitted to profit by a longer period of training, but because his father happens to have money and inclination to give it to him. One young man studies medicine and another goes into business, not because these are the careers for which they are specially fitted, but because one thinks that the prefix "Doctor" would look well in front of his name and the other has a maternal uncle in the dry-goods trade. I am not so foolish as to think that selection of this kind could ever be made with unerring accuracy, but I do assert that an effort should be made to effect it in a greater degree through our regular educational institutions and to leave it less to chance. Our present methods are like those of wild nature, which scatters seeds broadcast in the hope that some may settle on favoring soil, rather than those of the skilled cultivator, who sees that seed and soil are fitted for each other. In this and other particulars I look for great improvement in our educational methods; but I do not think that, except in local and unessential particulars, here and there, they are now retrograding. SOME ECONOMIC FEATURES OF LIBRARIES[4] [4] Read at the opening of the Chestnut Hill Branch, Philadelphia Free Library, January 22, 1909. Of the three great divisions of economics--production, distribution and consumption--the library has to do chiefly with the second, and it is as a distributor of literature that I desire to speak of it, although it has its share both in the production and consumption of books--more briefly, in the writing and reading of them. Much writing of books is done wholly in libraries and by their aid, and much reading is done therein. These functions I pass by with this brief notice. A library distributes books. So does a bookseller. The functions of these two distributors, however, should differ somewhat as do those of the two producers of books--the author and the publisher. The author creates the soul of the book and the publisher gives it a body. The former produces the immaterial, possibly the eternal, part and the latter merely the material part. Likewise, in our distribution we librarians should lay stress upon what is in the book, upon the production of the author rather than on that of the publisher, though we may not neglect the latter. We are, however, eminently distributors of ideas rather than of mere merchandise, and in so far as we lay stress on the material side of the book--important as this is--and neglect what is in it, we are but traders in books and not librarians. Among many of the great distributors of ideas--the magazine, the newspaper, the school--it is becoming increasingly difficult to find any that do not feel what I may call an anti-civic tendency. They have come to be supported largely by other agencies than the public, and they are naturally controlled by those agencies. As for the public, it has become accustomed to paying less than cost for what it gets along these lines, and is thus becoming intellectually pauperized. It is no more possible to distribute ideas at a profit, as a commercial venture, nowadays, than it would have been to run a circus, with an admission fee, in Imperial Rome. Thus a literary magazine is possible only because it is owned by some publisher who uses it as an advertising medium. He can afford to sell it to the public for less than cost; the public would leave a publication sold at a fair profit severely alone, hence such a venture is impossible. A scientific magazine in like manner must have some one to back it--a firm of patent-office brokers or a scientific society. The daily papers depend almost wholly on their advertisements; the public would not buy a simple compilation of the day's news at a fair profit. Even our great institutions of higher education give their students more than the latter pay for; the student is getting part of his tuition for nothing. A college that depends wholly on tuition fees for its support is soon left without students. Thus all these disseminators of ideas are not dependent on the persons to whom they distribute those ideas, for whose interest it is that the ideas shall be good and true and selected with discrimination. They depend rather for support on outside bodies of various kinds and so tend to be controlled by them--bodies whose interests do not necessarily coincide with those of the public. This is not true of material things. Their distributors still strive to please the public, for it is by the public that they are supported. If the public wants raspberry jam, raspberry jam it gets; and if, being aroused, it demands that this shall be made out of raspberries instead of apples, dock-seeds and aniline, it ultimately has its way. But if the department store were controlled by some outside agency, benevolent or otherwise, which partly supported it and enabled it to sell its wares below cost, then if this controlling agency willed that we should eat dock-seeds and aniline--dock-seeds and aniline we should doubtless eat. Not that the controlling powers in all these instances are necessarily malevolent. The publisher who owns a literary magazine may honestly desire that it shall be fearlessly impartial. The learned body that runs a scientific periodical may be willing to admit to its pages a defense of a thesis that it has condemned in one of its meetings; the page-advertiser in a great daily may be able to see his pet policy attacked in its editorial columns without yielding to the temptation to bring pressure to bear; the creator of an endowed university may view with equanimity an attack by one of its professors on the methods by which he amassed his wealth. All these things may be; we know in fact that they have been and that they are. But unfortunately we all know of cases where the effect of outside control has been quite the contrary. The government of a benevolent despot, we are told, would be ideal; but alas! rules for making a despot benevolent and for ensuring that he and his successors shall remain so, are not yet formulated. We have fallen back on the plan of fighting off the despot--good though he may possibly be; would that we could also abolish the non-civic control of the disseminators of ideas! Are there, then, no disseminators of ideas free from interference? Yes, thank heaven, there are at least two--the public school and the public library. Of these, the value of academic freedom to the public school is slight, because the training of the very young is of its nature subject little to the influences of which we have spoken. There is little opportunity, during a grammar school or high school course, to influence the mind in favor of particular government policies and particular theories in science or literature or art. This opportunity comes later. And it is later that the public library does its best work. Supported by the public it has no impulse and no desire to please anyone else. No suspicion of outside control hangs over it. It receives gifts; but they are gifts to the public, held by the public, not by outsiders. It is tax-supported, and the public pays cost price for what it gets--no more and no less. The community has the power of abolishing the whole system in the twinkling of an eye. The library's power in an American municipality lies in the affections of those who use and profit by it. It holds its position by love. No publisher may say to it: "Buy my books, not those of my rival"; no scientist may forbid it to give his opponent a hearing; no religious body may dictate to it; no commercial influence may throw a blight over it. It is untrammeled. How long is it to remain thus? That is for its owners, the public, to say. I confess that I feel uneasy when I realize how little the influence of the public library is understood by those who might try to wield that influence, either for good or for evil. Occasionally an individual tries to use it sporadically--the poet who tries to secure undying fame by distributing free copies of his verses to the libraries, the manufacturer who gives us an advertisement of his product in the guise of a book, the enthusiast who runs over our shelf list to see whether the library is well stocked with works on his fad--socialism or Swedenborgianism, or the "new thought." But, so far, there has been no concerted, systematic effort on the part of classes or bodies of men to capture the public library, to dictate its policy, to utilize its great opportunities for influencing the public mind. When this ever comes, as it may, we must look out! So far as my observation goes, the situation--even the faintest glimmering of it--is far from dawning on most of these bodies. Most individuals, when the policy of the library suits them not, exhaust their efforts in an angry kick or an epistolary curse; they never even think of trying to change that policy, even by argument. Most of them would rather write a letter to a newspaper, complaining of a book's absence, than to ask the librarian to buy it. Organizations--civil, religious, scientific, political, artistic--have usually let us severely alone, where their influence, if they should come into touch with the library, would surely be for good--would be exerted along the line of morality, of more careful book selection, of judicial mindedness instead of one-sidedness. Let us trust that influences along this line--if we are to have influences at all--may gain a foothold before the opposite forces--those of sordid commercialism, of absurdities, of falsities, of all kinds of self-seeking--find out that we are worth their exploitation. When it comes, as I expect it will some day--this general realization of what only a few now understand--that the public library is worth trying to influence and to exploit, our trouble will be that we shall be without any machinery at all to receive it, to take care of it, to direct the good into proper channels and to withstand the evil. We are occasionally annoyed and disconcerted now by the infinitesimal amount of it that we see; we wish people would mind their own business; we detest meddlers; we should be able to do more work if it were not for the bores--and so on. But what--what in heaven's name shall we do with the deluge when it comes? With what dam shall we withstand it; through what sluices shall we lead it; into what useful turbines shall we direct it? These things are worth pondering. For the present then, this independence of the library as a distributor may be regarded as one of its chief economic advantages. Another is its power as a leveler, and hence as an adjunct of democracy. Democracy is a result, not a cause, of equality. It is natural in a community whose members resemble each other in ability, modes of thought and mental development, just as it is unthinkable where great natural differences, racial or otherwise, exist. If we wish to preserve democracy, therefore, we must first maintain our community on something like a level. And we must level it up, not down; for although a form of democracy may exist temporarily among individuals equally ignorant or degraded, the advent of a single person more advanced in the scale of ability, quickly transforms it into absolutism. Similar inequalities may result in an aristocratic régime. The reason why England, with its ancient aristocracy, on the whole, is so democratic, is that its commoners are constantly recruited by the younger sons of its nobility, so that the whole body politic is continually stirred and kept more homogeneous than on the continent, where all of a noble's sons and daughters are themselves noble. This stirring or levelling process may be effected in many ways and along many lines, but in no way better than by popular education, as we have well understood in this country. This is why our educational system is a bulwark of our form of government, and this is why the public library--the only continuous feature of that system, exercising its influence from earliest childhood to most advanced age--is worth to the community whatever it may cost in its most improved form. There are enough influences at work to segregate classes in our country, and they come to us ready-made from other countries; we may be thankful that the public library is helping to make Americans of our immigrants and to make uniformly cultivated and well-informed Americans of us all. Another interesting light on the functions of the printed page, and hence of the library, is shown by the recent biological theory that connects the phenomena of heredity with those of habit and memory. The inheritance of ancestral characteristics, according to this view, may be described as racial memory. To illustrate, we may take an interesting study of a family of Danish athletes, recently made and published in France. The members of this family, adults and children, men and women, have all been gymnasts for over three hundred years--no one of them would think of adopting any other means of gaining a livelihood. It seems certain to the scientific men who have been conducting the investigation, that not only the physical ability to become an acrobat, but also the mental qualities that contribute so much to success in this occupation--pride in the acrobatic pre-eminence of the family, courage, love of applause, and so on--have been handed down from one generation to another, and that it has cost each generation less time and effort to acquire its skill than its predecessor. In other words, we are told, members of this family are born with certain predispositions--latent ancestral memories, we may say, of the occupations of previous generations. To make these effective, it is necessary only to awaken them, and this may be done simply by the sight of other persons performing gymnastic feats. These they learn in weeks, where others, without such ancestral memories, would require months or years. Evidently this may be applied much more widely than to mere physical skill. Few of us can boast of gymnastic ancestry, but all of us have inherited predispositions and have ancestral memories that make it easier for us to learn certain things and to choose certain courses than we should find it without them. Some of these are good; some bad. Some are useful; some injurious. It is necessary only to awaken them to set going a train of consequences; if not awakened, they may remain permanently dormant. How important, therefore, are the suggestions that may serve as such awakeners; how necessary to bring forward the useful, and to banish the injurious ones! Now of all possible agencies that may bring these predispositions into play--that may awaken our ancestral memories, if you choose to adopt this theory--I submit that the book stands at the very head. For it is itself a racial record; it may contain, in the form best suited to awaken our predispositions, the very material which, long ages ago, was instrumental in handing those predispositions down to us. It is in tune with our latent memories, and it may set them vibrating more vigorously than any merely contemporary agency. Does this not place in a new and interesting light the library and the books of which it is composed? We have learned to respect them as the records of the race and to recognize their value as teachers and their power as energizers; in addition we now see that they may act as fingers on invisible mental triggers. A slight impulse--altogether trivial compared with its effect--and off goes the gun. The discharge may carry a line to a wrecked ship, or it may sink her with all on board. We frequently hear it said of some book whose tendency is bad: "Well, it can't hurt me, anyway; I'm immune." Are you quite sure? Have you gone quite to the bottom of those ancestral memories of yours, and are you certain that there are none that such a book may rouse, to your harm? On the other hand, does this not explain much that has always interested the librarian; for instance, the vast popularity of fairy tales, especially those that date back to our racial infancy? I need dwell no further on the economic importance of the book as viewed from this standpoint. But it has also a function almost diametrically opposed to that which we have just considered; besides harking back to what is oldest it looks forward to what is newest. It may stir us by awakening dim racial recollections; but it may also thrill us by adding to the store of what is already in the mind. In fact, we like to assimilate new ideas, to think new thoughts, to do new acts; we like to read or hear something that we could not have produced ourselves. When we are young and ignorant, therefore, we like music or art or literature that appears trivial to us as we grow older and have developed our own creative powers. A poem that is no better than one a man might dash off himself he likes no longer; he prefers to be confronted with something that is above and beyond his own powers, though not above his comprehension. Thus, as he grows, his zone of enjoyment shifts upward, and the library covers the whole moving field. When Solomon John Peterkin, pen in hand, sat down to write a book, he discovered that he hadn't anything to say. Happy lad! He had before him all literature as a field of enjoyment, for all, apparently, was beyond his creative efforts. Do those of you who are musicians remember when you first apprehended the relations between the tonic and the dominant chords? I have heard a small boy at a piano play these alternately for hours. Such a performance is torture to you and me; it is the sweetest harmony to him, because it is new and has just come into his sphere of creative power. When he is thoroughly satisfied that he can produce the effect at will, he abandons it for something newer and a little higher. The boy who discovers, without being told, that the dominant chord, followed by the tonic, produces a certain musical effect, is doing something that for him is on a par with Wagner's searching the piano for those marvellous effects of his that are often beyond technical explanation. The child who reads what you think is a trivial book, re-reads it, and reads others like it, is doing this same thing in the domain of literature--he is following the natural course that will bring him out at the top after a while. When we distribute books, then, we distribute ideas, not only actual, but potential. A book has in it not only the ideas that lie on its surface, but millions of others that are tied to these by invisible chords, of which we have touched on but a few--the invisible ancestral memories of centuries ago, the foretastes of future thoughts in our older selves and our posterity of centuries hence. When we think of it, it is hard to realize that a book has not a soul. Gerald Stanley Lee, in his latest book, a collection of essays on millionaires, sneers at the efforts of the rich mill owners to improve their employees by means of libraries. Life in a modern mill, he thinks, is so mechanical as to dull all the higher faculties. "Andrew Carnegie," he says (and he apparently uses the name merely as that of a type), "has been taking men's souls away and giving them paper books." Now the mills may be soul-deadening--possibly they are, though it is hard to benumb a soul--but I will venture to say that for every soul that Mr. Carnegie, or anyone else, has taken away, he has created, awakened and stimulated a thousand by contact with that almost soul--that near-soul--that resides in books. Mr. Lee's books may be merely paper; mine have paper and ink only for their outer garb; their inner warp and woof is of the texture of spirit. This is why I rejoice when a new library is opened. I thank God for its generous donor. I clasp hands with the far-reaching municipality that accepts and supports it. I wish good luck to the librarians who are to care for it and give it dynamic force; I congratulate the public whose privilege it is to use it and to profit by it. SIMON NEWCOMB: AMERICA'S FOREMOST ASTRONOMER Among those in all parts of the world whose good opinion is worth having, Simon Newcomb was one of the best known of America's great men. Astronomer, mathematician, economist, novelist, he had well-nigh boxed the compass of human knowledge, attaining eminence such as is given to few to reach, at more than one of its points. His fame was of the far-reaching kind,--penetrating to remote regions, while that of some others has only created a noisy disturbance within a narrow radius. Best and most widely known as an astronomer, his achievements in that science were not suited for sensational exploitation. He discovered no apple-orchards on the moon, neither did he dispute regarding the railways on the planet Venus. His aim was to make still more exact our knowledge of the motions of the bodies constituting what we call the solar system, and his labors toward this end, begun more than thirty years ago, he continued almost until the day of his death. Conscious that his span of life was measured by months and in the grip of what he knew to be a fatal disease, he yet exerted himself with all his remaining energy to complete his monumental work on the motion of the moon, and succeeded in bringing it to an end before the final summons came. His last days thus had in them a cast of the heroic, not less than if, as the commander of a torpedoed battleship, he had gone down with her, or than if he had fallen charging at the head of a forlorn hope. It is pleasant to think that such a man was laid to rest with military honors. The accident that he was a retired professor in the United States Navy may have been the immediate cause of this, but its appropriateness lies deeper. Newcomb saw the light not under the Stars and Stripes, but in Nova Scotia, where he was born, at the town of Wallace on March 12, 1835. His father, a teacher, was of American descent, his ancestors having settled in Canada in 1761. After studying with his father and teaching for some little time in his native province he came to the United States while yet a boy of eighteen, and while teaching in Maryland in 1854-'56 was so fortunate as to attract, by his mathematical ability, the attention of two eminent American scientific men, Joseph Henry and Julius Hilgard, who secured him an appointment as computer on the Nautical Almanac. The date of this was 1857, and Newcomb had thus, at his death, been in Government employ for fifty-two years. As the work of the almanac was then carried on in Cambridge, Mass., he was enabled to enter the Lawrence Scientific School of Harvard University, where he graduated in 1858 and where he pursued graduate studies for three years longer. On their completion in 1861 he was appointed a professor of mathematics in the United States Navy, which office he held till his death. This appointment, made when he was twenty-six years old,--scarcely more than a boy,--is a striking testimony to his remarkable ability as a mathematician, for of practical astronomy he still knew little. One of his first duties at Washington was to supervise the construction of the great 26-inch equatorial just authorized by Congress and to plan for mounting and housing it. In 1877 he became senior professor of mathematics in the navy, and from that time until his retirement as a Rear Admiral in 1897 he had charge of the Nautical Almanac office, with its large corps of naval and civilian assistants, in Washington and elsewhere. In 1884 he also assumed the chair of mathematics and astronomy in Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, and he had much to to do, in an advisory capacity, with the equipment of the Lick Observatory and with testing and mounting its great telescope, at that time the largest in the world. To enumerate his degrees, scientific honors, and medals would tire the reader. Among them were the degree of LL.D. from all the foremost universities, the gold medal of the Royal Astronomical Society of London in 1874, the great gold Huygens medal of the University of Leyden, awarded only once in twenty years, in 1878, and the Schubert gold medal of the Imperial Academy of St. Petersburg. The collection of portraits of famous astronomers at the Observatory of Pulkowa contains his picture, painted by order of the Russian Government in 1887. He was, of course, a member of many scientific societies, at home and abroad, and was elected in 1869 to our own National Academy of Sciences, becoming its vice-president in 1883. In 1893 he was chosen one of the eight foreign associates of the Institute of France,--the first native American since Benjamin Franklin to be so chosen. Newcomb's most famous work as an astronomer,--that which gained him world-wide fame among his brother astronomers,--was, as has been said, too mathematical and technical to appeal to the general public among his countrymen, who have had to take his greatness, in this regard, on trust. They have known him at first hand chiefly as author or editor of popular works such as his "Popular Astronomy" (1877); of his text-books on astronomy, algebra, geometry, trigonometry, and calculus; of his books on political economy, which science he was accustomed to call his "recreation"; and of magazine articles on all sorts of subjects not omitting "psychical research," which was one of the numerous by-paths into which he strayed. He held at one time the presidency of the American Society for Psychical Research. The technical nature of his work in mathematical astronomy,--his "profession," as he called it, in distinction to his "recreations" and minor scientific amusements,--may be seen from the titles of one or two of his papers: "On the Secular Variations and Mutual Relations of the Orbits of the Asteroids" (1860); "Investigation of the Orbit of Neptune, with General Tables of Its Motion" (1867); "Researches on the Motion of the Moon" (1876); and so on. Of this work Professor Newcomb himself says, in his "Reminiscences of an Astronomer" (Boston, 1903), that it all tended toward one result,--the solution of what he calls "the great problem of exact astronomy," the theoretical explanation of the observed motions of the heavenly bodies. If the universe consisted of but two bodies,--say, the sun and a planet,--the motion would be simplicity itself; the planet would describe an exact ellipse about the sun, and this orbit would never change in form, size, or position. With the addition of only one more body, the problem at once becomes so much more difficult as to be practically insoluble; indeed, the "problem of the three bodies" has been attacked by astronomers for years without the discovery of any general formula to express the resulting motions. For the actually existing system of many planets with their satellites and countless asteroids, only an approximation is possible. The actual motions as observed and measured from year to year are most complex. Can these be completely accounted for by the mutual attractions of the bodies, according to the law of gravitation as enunciated by Sir Isaac Newton? In Newcomb's words, "Does any world move otherwise than as it is attracted by other worlds?" Of course, Newcomb has not been the only astronomer at work on this problem, but it has been his life-work and his contributions to its solution have been very noteworthy. It is difficult to make the ordinary reader understand the obstacles in the way of such a determination as this. Its two elements are, of course, the mapping out of the lines in which the bodies concerned actually do move and the calculations of the orbits in which they ought to move, if the accepted laws of planetary motion are true. The first involves the study of thousands of observations made during long years by different men in far distant lands, the discussion of their probable errors, and their reduction to a common standard. The latter requires the use of the most refined methods of mathematical analysis; it is, as Newcomb says, "of a complexity beyond the powers of ordinary conception." In works on celestial mechanics a single formula may fill a whole chapter. This problem first attracted Newcomb's attention when a young man at Cambridge, when by analysis of the motions of the asteroids he showed that the orbits of these minor planets had not, for several hundred thousand years past, intersected at a single point, and that they could not, therefore, have resulted, during that period, from the explosion of a single large body, as had been supposed. Later, when Newcomb's investigations along this line had extended to the major planets and their satellites, a curious anomaly in the moon's motion made it necessary for him to look for possible observations made long before those hitherto recorded. The accepted tables were based on observations extending back as far as 1750, but Newcomb, by searching the archives of European observatories, succeeded in discovering data taken as early as 1660, not, of course, with such an investigation as this in view, but chiefly out of pure scientific curiosity. The reduction of such observations, especially as the old French astronomers used apparent time, which was frequently in error by quarter of an hour or so, was a matter of great difficulty. The ancient observer, having no idea of the use that was to be made of his work, had supplied no facilities for interpreting it, and "much comparison and examination was necessary to find out what sort of an instrument was used, how the observations were made, and how they should be utilized for the required purpose." The result was a vastly more accurate lunar theory than had formerly been obtained. During the period when Newcomb was working among the old papers of the Paris Observatory, the city, then in possession of the Communists, was beset by the national forces, and his studies were made within hearing of the heavy siege guns, whose flash he could even see by glancing through his window. Newcomb's appointment as head of the Nautical Almanac office greatly facilitated his work on the various phases of this problem of planetary motions. Their solution was here a legitimate part of the routine work of the office, and he had the aid of able assistants,--such men as G.W. Hill, who worked out a large part of the theory of Jupiter and Saturn, and Cleveland Keith, who died in 1896, just as the final results of his work were being combined. In connection with this work Professor Newcomb strongly advocated the unification of the world's time by the adoption of an international meridian, and also international agreement upon a uniform system of data for all computations relating to the fixed stars. The former still hangs fire, owing to mistaken "patriotism"; the latter was adopted at an international conference held in Paris in 1896, but after it had been carried into effect in our own Nautical Almanac, professional jealousies brought about a modification of the plan that relegated the improved and modernized data to an appendix. Professor Newcomb's retirement from active service made the continuance of his great work on an adequate scale somewhat problematical, and his data on the moon's motion were laid aside for a time until a grant from the newly organized Carnegie Institution in 1903 enabled him to employ the necessary assistance, and the work has since gone forward to completion. What is the value of such work, and why should fame be the reward of him who pursues it successfully? Professor Newcomb himself raises this question in his "Reminiscences," and without attempting to answer it directly he notes that every civilized nation supports an observatory at great annual expense to carry on such research, besides which many others are supported by private or corporate contributions. Evidently the consensus of public opinion must be that the results are worth at least a part of what they cost. The question is included in the broader one of the value of all research in pure science. Speaking generally, the object of this is solely to add to the sum of human knowledge, although not seldom some application to man's physical needs springs unexpectedly from the resulting discoveries, as in the case of the dynamo or that of wireless telegraphy. Possibly a more accurate description of the moon's motion is unlikely to bring forth any such application, but those who applaud the achievements of our experts in mathematical astronomy would be quick to deny that their fame rests on any such possibility. Passing now to Professor Newcomb's "recreation," as he called, it,--political economy, we may note that his contributions to it were really voluminous, consisting of papers, popular articles and several books, including "The A B C of Finance" (1877) and "Principles of Political Economy" (1886). Authorities in the science never really took these as seriously as they deserved, possibly because they regarded Professor Newcomb as scarcely orthodox. Some of his distinctions, however, are of undoubted value and will live; for instance, that between the fund and the flux of wealth, on which he insists in his treatises on finance. As to Professor Newcomb's single excursion into fiction, a romance entitled "His Wisdom the Defender," it is perhaps sufficient to say that, like everything he attempted, it is at least worth notice. It is a sort of cross between Jules Verne and Bulwer Lytton's "Coming Race." Professor Newcomb's mind was comprehensive in its activity. One might have thought that an intellect occupied to the last in carrying out one of the most stupendous tasks ever attempted by a mathematical astronomer would have had little time or little energy left for other things; but Newcomb took his rest and pleasure in popular articles and interviews. Only a short time before his death he published an essay on aeronautics that attracted wide attention, drawing the conclusions that the aeroplane can never be of much use either as a passenger-carrier or in war, but that the dirigible balloon may accomplish something within certain lines, although it will never put the railways and steamships out of business. In particular, he treated with unsparing ridicule the panic fear of an aerial invasion that so lately seized upon our transatlantic cousins. Personally, Newcomb was an agreeable companion and a faithful friend. His success was due largely to his tenacity of purpose. The writer's only personal contact with him came through the "Standard Dictionary,"--of whose definitions in physical science Newcomb had general oversight. On one occasion he came into the office greatly dissatisfied with the definition that we had framed for the word "magnet."--a conception almost impossible to define in any logical way. We had simply enumerated the properties of the thing,--a course which in the absence of authoritative knowledge of their causes was the only rational procedure. But Newcomb's mind demanded a logical treatment, and though he must have seen from the outset that this was a forlorn hope, his tenacity of purpose kept him, pencil in hand, writing and erasing alternately for an hour or more. Finally he confessed that he could do no better than the following pair of definitions,--"_Magnet_, a body capable of exerting magnetic force," and "_Magnetic Force_, the force exerted by a magnet." With a hearty laugh at this beautiful _circulus in definiendo_ he threw down his pencil, and the imperfect and illogical office definition was accepted. Logical as he was, however, he was in no sense bound by convention. His economics, as has been said, was often unorthodox, and even in his mathematical text-books he occasionally shocked the hide-bound. I well remember an interesting discussion among members of the Yale mathematical faculty just after the appearance of Newcomb's text-book of geometry, in which he was unsparingly condemned by some because he assumed in certain elementary demonstrations that geometrical figures could be removed from the paper, turned over and laid down again,--the so-called "method of superposition," now generally regarded as quite allowable. Of course, a figure can be treated in this way only in imagination and for this season, probably, the method was not employed by Euclid. Its use, however, leads always to true results, as anyone may see; and it was quite characteristic of Professor Newcomb that he should have taken it up, not having the fear of the Greek geometers before him. Such was Newcomb; it will be long before American science sees his equal. Mathematical genius is like an automobile,--it is looked upon in two opposing fashions as one has it or has it not. A noted educator not long ago announced his belief that the possession of a taste for mathematics is an exact index of the general intellectual powers. Not much later, another eminent teacher asserted that mathematical ability is an exotic,--that one may, and often does, possess it who is in other respects practically an imbecile. This is scarcely a subject in which a single illustration decides, but surely Newcomb's career justifies the former opinion rather than the latter; the amount and kind of his mental abilities along all lines seemed to run parallel to his mathematical genius, to resemble it in quantity and in kind. The great volumes of astronomical tables without which no astronomer may now venture upon a computation are his best monument; yet the general reader will longer remember, perhaps, the lucid expositor, the genial essayist, the writer of one of the most readable autobiographies of our day. THE COMPANIONSHIP OF BOOKS[5] [5] Read before the Pacific Northwest Library Association, June, 1910. Are books fitted to be our companions? That depends. You and I read them with pleasure; others do not care for them; to some the reading of any book at all is as impossible as the perusal of a volume in Old Slavonic would be to most of us. These people simply do not read at all. To a suggestion that he supplement his usual vacation sports by reading a novel, a New York police captain--a man with a common school education--replied, "Well, I've never read a book yet, and I don't think I'll begin now." Here was a man who had never read a book, who had no use for books, and who could get along perfectly well without them. He is not a unique type. Hundreds of thousands of our fellow citizens might as well be quite illiterate, so far as the use that they make of their ability to read is concerned. These persons are not all uneducated; they possess and are still acquiring much knowledge, but since leaving school they have acquired it chiefly by personal experience and by word of mouth. Is it possible that they are right? May it be that to read books is unnecessary and superfluous? There has been some effort of late to depreciate the book--to insist on its inadequacy and on the impracticality of the knowledge that it conveys. "Book-learning" has always been derided more or less by so-called "practical men". A recent series of comic pictures in the newspapers makes this clear. It is about "Book-taught Bilkins". Bilkins tries to do everything by a book. He raises vegetables, builds furniture, runs a chicken farm, all by the directions contained in books, and meets with ignominious failure. He makes himself, in fact, very ridiculous in every instance and thousands of readers laugh at him and his absurd books. They inwardly resolve, doubtless, that they will be practical and will pay no attention to books. Are they right? Is the information contained in books always useless and absurd, while that obtained by experience or by talking to one's neighbor is always correct and valuable? Many of our foremost educators are displeased with the book. They are throwing it aside for the lecture, for laboratory work, for personal research and experiment. Does this mean that the book, as a tool of the teacher, will have to go? What it all certainly does mean is that we ought to pause a minute and think about the book, about what it does and what it can not do. This means that we ought to consider a little the whole subject of written as distinguished from spoken language. Why should we have two languages--as we practically do--one to be interpreted by the ear and the other by the eye? Could we or should we abandon either? What are the advantages and what the limitations of each? We are so accustomed to looking upon the printed page, to reading newspapers, books, and advertisements, to sending and receiving letters, written or typewritten, that we are apt to forget that all this is not part of the natural order, except in the sense that all inventions and creations of the human brain are natural. Written language is a conscious invention of man; spoken language is a development, shaped by his needs and controlled by his sense of what is fitting, but not at the outset consciously devised. We are apt to think of written language as simply a means of representing spoken language to the eye; but it is more than this; originally, at least in many cases, it was not this at all. The written signs represented not sounds, but ideas themselves; if they were intended to correspond directly with anything, it was with the rude gestures that signified ideas and had nothing to do with their vocal expression. It was not until later that these written symbols came to correspond to vocal sounds and even to-day they do so imperfectly; languages that are largely phonetic are the exception. The result is, as I have said, that we have two languages--a spoken and a written. What we call reading aloud is translation from the written to the spoken tongue; while writing from dictation is translation from the spoken to the written. When we read, as we say, "to ourselves," we sometimes, if we are not skilful, pronounce the spoken words under our breath, or at least form them with our vocal organs. You all remember the story of how the Irishman who could not read made his friend stop up his ears while reading a letter aloud, so that he might not hear it. This anecdote, like all good comic stories, has something in it to think about. The skilful reader does not even imagine the spoken words as he goes. He forgets, for the moment, the spoken tongue and translates the written words and phrases directly into the ideas for which they stand. A skilful reader thus takes in the meaning of a phrase, a sentence, even of a paragraph, at a glance. Likewise the writer who sets his own thoughts down on paper need not voice them, even in imagination; he may also forget all about the spoken tongue and spread his ideas on the page at first hand. This is not so common because one writes slower than he speaks, whereas he reads very much faster. The swift reader could not imagine that he was speaking the words, even if he would; the pace is too incredibly fast. Our written tongue, then, has come to be something of a language by itself. In some countries it has grown so out of touch with the spoken tongue that the two have little to do with each other. Where only the learned know how to read and write, the written language takes on a learned tinge; the popular spoken tongue has nothing to keep it steady and changes rapidly and unsystematically. Where nearly all who speak the language also read and write it, as in our own country, the written tongue, even in its highest literary forms, is apt to be much more familiar and colloquial, but at the same time the written and the spoken tongue keep closer together. Still, they never accurately correspond. When a man "talks like a book," or in other words, uses such language that it could be printed word for word and appear in good literary form, we recognize that he is not talking ordinary colloquial English--not using the normal spoken language. On the other hand, when the speech of a southern negro or a down-east Yankee is set down in print, as it so often is in the modern "dialect story," we recognize at once that although for the occasion this is written language, it is not normal literary English. It is most desirable that the two forms of speech shall closely correspond, for then the written speech gets life from the spoken and the spoken has the written for its governor and controller; but it is also desirable that each should retain more or less individuality, and fortunately it is almost impossible that they should not do so. We must not forget, therefore, that our written speech is not merely a way of setting down our spoken speech in print. This is exactly what our friends the spelling reformers appear to have forgotten. The name that they have given to what they propose to do, indicates this clearly. When a word as written and as spoken have drifted apart, it is usually the spoken word that has changed. Reform, therefore, would be accomplished by restoring the old spoken form. Instead of this, it is proposed to change the written form. In other words, the two languages are to be forced together by altering that one of them that is by its essence the most immutable. Where the written word has been corrupted as in spelling "guild" for "gild," the adoption of the simpler spelling is a reform; otherwise, not. Now is the possession of two languages, a spoken and a written, an advantage or not? With regard to the spoken tongue, the question answers itself. If we were all deaf and dumb, we could still live and carry on business, but we should be badly handicapped. On the other hand, if we could neither read nor write, we should simply be in the position of our remote forefathers or even of many in our own day and our own land. What then is the reasons for a separate written language, beyond the variety thereby secured, by the use of two senses, hearing and sight, instead of only one? Evidently the chief reason is that written speech is eminently fitted for preservation. Without the transmittal of ideas from one generation to another, intellectual progress is impossible. Such transmittal, before the invention of writing, was effected solely by memory. The father spoke to the son, and he, remembering what was said, told it, in turn, to the grandson. This is tradition, sometimes marvellously accurate, but often untrustworthy. And as it is without check, there is no way of telling whether a given fact, so transmitted, is or is not handed down faithfully. Now we have the phonograph for preserving and accurately reproducing spoken language. If this had been invented before the introduction of written language, we might never have had the latter; as it is, the device comes on the field too late to be a competitor with the book in more than a very limited field. For preserving particular voices, such as those of great men, or for recording intonation and pronunciation, it fills a want that writing and printing could never supply. For the long preservation of ideas and their conveyance to a human mind, written speech is now the indispensable vehicle. And, as has been said, this is how man makes progress. We learn in two ways: by undergoing and reflecting on our own experiences and by reading and reflecting on those of others. Neither of these ways is sufficient in itself. A child bound hand and foot and confined in a dark room would not be a fit subject for instruction, but neither would he reach a high level if placed on a desert island far from his kind and forced to rely solely on his own experiences. The experiences of our forebears, read in the light of our own; the experiences of our forebears, used as a starting-point from which we may move forward to fresh fields--these we must know and appreciate if we are to make progress. This means the book and its use. Books may be used in three ways--for information, for recreation, for inspiration. There are some who feel inclined to rely implicitly on the information that is to be found in books--to believe that a book can not lie. This is an unfortunate state of mind. The word of an author set down in print is worth no more than when he gives it to us in spoken language--no more and no less. There was, to be sure, a time when the printed word implied at least care and thoughtfulness. It is still true that the book implies somewhat more of this than the newspaper, but the difference between the two is becoming unfortunately less. Now a wrong record, if it purports to be a record of facts, is worse than none at all. The man who desires to know the distance between two towns in Texas and is unable to find it in any book of reference may obtain it at the cost of some time and trouble; but if he finds it wrongly recorded, he accepts the result and goes away believing a lie. If we are to use books for information, therefore, it is of the utmost consequence that we know whether the information is correct or not. A general critical evaluation of all literature, even on this score alone, without going into the question of literary merit, is probably beyond the possibilities, although it has been seriously proposed. Some partial lists we have, and a few lists of those lists, so that we may know where to get at them. There are many books about books, especially in certain departments of history, technology, or art, but no one place to which a man may go, before he begins to read his book, to find out whether he may believe what he reads in it. This is a serious lack, especially as there is more than one point of view. Books that are of high excellence as literature may not be at all accurate. How shall the boy who hears enthusiastic praise of Prescott's histories and who is spellbound when he reads them know that the results of recent investigation prove that those histories give a totally incorrect idea of Mexico and Peru? How is the future reader of Dr. Cook's interesting account of the ascent of Mount McKinley to know that it has been discredited? And how is he to know whether other interesting and well-written histories and books of travel have not been similarly proved inaccurate? At present, there is no way except to go to one who knows the literature of the subject, or to read as many other books on the subject as can be obtained, weighing one against the other and coming to one's own conclusions. Possibly the public library may be able to help. Mr. Charles F. Lummis of the Los Angeles library advocates labelling books with what he calls "Poison Labels" to warn the reader when they are inaccurate or untrustworthy. Most librarians have hesitated a little to take so radical a step as this, not so much from unwillingness to assume the duty of warning the public, as from a feeling that they were not competent to undertake the critical evaluation of the whole of the literature of special subjects. The librarian may know that this or that book is out of date or not to be depended on, but there are others about which he is not certain or regarding which he must rely on what others tell him. And he knows that expert testimony is notoriously one-sided. It is this fear of acting as an advocate instead of as a judge that has generally deterred the librarian from labelling his books with notes of advice or warning. There is, however, no reason why the librarian should take sides in the matter. He may simply point out to the reader that there are other books on the same subject, written from different points of view, and he may direct attention to these, letting the reader draw his own conclusions. There is probability that the public library in the future will furnish information and guidance of this kind about books, more than it has done in the past. And here it may be noted in passing that the library is coming out of its shell. It no longer holds itself aloof, taking good care of its books and taking little care of the public that uses them. It is coming to realize that the man and the book are complementary, that neither is much without the other, and that to bring them together is its duty. It realizes also that a book is valuable, not because it is so much paper and ink and thread and leather, but because it records and preserves somebody's ideas. It is the projection of a human mind across space and across time and where it touches another human mind those minds have come into contact just as truly and with as valuable results as if the bodies that held them stood face to face in actual converse. This is the miracle of written speech--a miracle renewed daily in millions of places with millions of readers. We have, in the modern library, the very best way of perpetuating such relations as this and of ensuring that such as are preserved shall be worth preserving. When the ancients desired to make an idea carry as far as possible, they saw to the toughness and strength of the material object constituting the record; they cut it in stone or cast it in metal, forgetting that all matter is in a state of continual flux and change; it is the idea only that endures. Stone and metal will both one day pass away and unless some one sees fit to copy the inscription on a fresh block or tablet, the record will be lost. It is, then, only by continual renewal of its material basis that a record in written language can be made to last, and there is no reason why this renewal should not take place every few years, as well as every few centuries. There is even an advantage in frequent renewal; for this ensures that the value of the record shall be more frequently passed upon and prevents the preservation of records that are not worth keeping. This preservation by frequent renewal is just what is taking place with books; we make them of perishable materials; if we want to keep them, we reprint them; otherwise they decay and are forgotten. We should not forget that by this plan the reader is usually made the judge of whether a book is worth keeping. Why do we preserve by continual reprinting Shakespeare and Scott and Tennyson and Hawthorne? The reprinting is done by publishers as a money-making scheme. It is profitable to them because there is a demand for those authors. If we cease to care for them and prefer unworthy writers, Shakespeare and Scott will decay and be forgotten and the unworthy ones will be preserved. Thus a great responsibility is thrown upon readers; so far they have judged pretty well. Just now, however, we are confining ourselves to the use of books for information; and here there is less preservation than elsewhere. Especially in science, statements and facts quickly become out of date; here it is not the old but the new that we want--the new based on the accurate and enduring part of the old. Before we leave this part of the subject it may be noted that many persons have no idea of the kinds of information that may be obtained from books. Even those who would unhesitatingly seek a book for data in history, art, or mathematics would not think of going to books for facts on plumbing, weaving, or shoe-making, for methods of shop-window decoration or of display-advertising, for special forms of bookkeeping suitable for factories or for stock-farms--for a host of facts relating to trades, occupations, and business in general. Yet there are books about all these things--not books perhaps to read for an idle hour, but books full of meat for them who want just this kind of food. If Book-taught Bilkins fails, after trying to utilize what such books have taught him, it is doubtless because he has previously failed to realize that books plus experience, or, to put it differently, the recorded experience of others plus our own is better than either could be separately. And the same is true of information that calls for no physical action to supplement it. Books plus thought--the thoughts of others plus our own--are more effective in combination than either could be by itself. Reading should provoke thought; thought should suggest more reading, and so on, until others' thoughts and our own have become so completely amalgamated that they are our personal intellectual possessions. But we may not read for information at all--recreation may be what we are after. Do not misunderstand me. Many persons have an idea that if one reads to amuse himself he must necessarily read novels. I think most highly of good novels. Narrative is a popular form of literary expression; it is used by those who wish to instruct as well as to amuse. One may obtain plenty of information from novels--often in a form nowhere else available. If we want exact statement, statistical or otherwise, we do not go to fiction for it; but if we wish to obtain what is often more important--accurate and lasting general impressions of history, society, or geography, the novel is often the only place where these may be had. Likewise, one may amuse himself with history, travel, science, or art--even with mathematics. The last is rarely written primarily to amuse, although we have such a title as "Mathematical recreations," but there are plenty of non-fiction books written for entertainment and one may read for entertainment any book whatever. The result depends not so much on the book or its contents as on the reader. Recreation is now recognized as an essential part of education. And just as physical recreation consists largely in the same muscular movements that constitute work, only in different combinations and with different ends in view, so mental recreation consists of intellectual exercise with a similar variation of combinations and aims. Somebody says that "play is work that you don't have to do". So reading for amusement may closely resemble study--the only difference is that it is purely voluntary. Here again, however, the written language is only an intermediary; we have as before, the contact of two minds--only here it is often the lighter contact of good-fellowship. And one who reads always for such recreation is thus like the man who is always bandying trivialities, story-telling, and jesting--an excellent, even a necessary, way of passing part of one's time, but a mistaken way of employing all of it. The best kind of recreation is gently stimulating, but stimulation may rise easily to abnormality. There are fiction drunkards just as there are persons who take too much alcohol or too much coffee. In fact, if one is so much absorbed by the ideas that he is assimilating that the process interferes with the ordinary duties of life, he may be fairly sure that it is injuring him. If one loves coffee or alcohol, or even candy, so dearly that one can not give it up, it is time to stop using it altogether. If a reader is so fond of an exciting story that he can not lay it aside, so that he sits up late at night reading it, or if he can not drop it from his mind when he does lay it aside, but goes on thinking about the deadly combat between the hero and Lord William Fitz Grouchy when he ought to be studying his lessons or attending to his business, it is time to cut out fiction altogether. This advice has absolutely nothing to do with the quality of the fiction. It will not do simply to warn the habitual drunkard that he must be careful to take none but the best brands; he must drop alcohol altogether. If you are a fiction drunkard, enhanced quality will only enslave you further. This sort of use is no more recreation in the proper sense of the word than is gambling, or drinking to excess, or smoking opium. And now we come to a use of books that is more important--lies more at the root of things--than their use for either information or recreation--their use for inspiration. One may get help and inspiration along with the other two--reading about how to make a box may inspire a boy to go out and make one himself. It is this kind of thing that should be the final outcome of every mental process. Nothing that goes on in the brain is really complete until it ends in a motor stimulus. The action, it is true, may not follow closely; it may be the result of years of mental adjustment; it may even take place in another body from the one where it originated. The man who tells us how to make a box, and tells it so fascinatingly that he sets all his readers to box-making, presumably has made boxes with his own hands, but there may be those who are fitted to inspire action in others rather than to undertake it themselves. And the larger literature of inspiration is not that which urges to specific deeds like box-making, or even to classes of deeds, like caring for the sick or improving methods of transportation; rather does it include in its scope all good thoughts and all good actions. It makes better men and women of those who read it; it is revolutionary and evolutionary at the same time, in the best sense of both words. What will thus inspire me, do you ask? It would be easy to try to tell you; it would also be easy to fail. Many have tried and failed. This is a deeply personal matter. I can not tell what book, or what passage in a book, will touch the magic spring that shall make your life useful instead of useless, that shall start your thoughts and your deeds climbing up instead of grovelling or passively waiting. Only search will reveal it. The diamond-miner who expects to be directed to the precise spot where he will find a gem will never pick one up. Only he who seeks, finds. There are, however, places to look and places to avoid. The peculiar clay in which diamonds occur is well known to mineralogists. He who runs across it, looks for diamonds, though he may find none. But he who hunts for them on the rock-ribbed hills of New Hampshire or the sea-sands of Florida is doing a foolish thing--although even there he may conceivably pick up one that has been dropped by accident. So you may know where it is best to go in your search for inspiration from books, for we know where seekers in the past have most often found it. He who could read the Bible or Shakespeare without finding some of it is the exception. It may be looked for in the great poets--Homer, Virgil, Dante, Chaucer, Milton, Hugo, Keats, Goethe; or the great historians--Tacitus, Herodotus, Froissart, Macaulay, Taine, Bancroft; or in the great travellers from Sir John Mandeville down, or in biographies like Boswell's life of Johnson, or in books of science--Laplace, Lagrange, Darwin, Tyndall, Helmholtz; in the lives of the great artists; in the great novels and romances--Thackeray, Balzac, Hawthorne, Dickens, George Eliot. Yet each and all of these may leave you cold and you may pick up your gem in some out-of-the-way corner where neither you nor anyone else would think of looking for it. Did you ever see a car-conductor fumbling about in the dark with the trolley pole, trying to hit the wire? While he is pulling it down and letting it fly up again, making fruitless dabs in the air, the car is dark and motionless; in vain the motorman turns his controller, in vain do the passengers long for light. But sooner or later the pole strikes the wire; down it flows the current that was there all the time up in the air; in a jiffy the car is in motion and ablaze with light. So your search for inspiration in literature may be long and unsuccessful; you are dark and motionless. But the life-giving current from some great man's brain is flowing through some book not far away. One day you will make the connection and your life will in a trice be filled with light and instinct with action. And before we leave this subject of inspiration, let us dwell for a moment on that to be obtained from one's literary setting in general--from the totality of one's literary associations and impressions, as distinguished from that gained from some specific passage or idea. It has been said that it takes two to tell the truth; one to speak and one to listen. In like manner we may say that two persons are necessary to a great artistic interpretation--one to create and one to appreciate. And of no art is this more true than it is of literature. The thought that we are thus cooperating with Shakespeare and Schiller and Hugo in bringing out the full effect of their deathless conceptions is an inspiring one and its consideration may aid us in realizing the essential oneness of the human race, so far as its intellectual life is concerned. Would you rather be a citizen of the United States than, we will say, of Nicaragua? You might be as happy, as well educated, as well off, there as here. Why do you prefer your present status? Simply and solely because of associations and relationships. If this is sentiment, as it doubtless is, it is the kind of sentiment that rules the world--it is in the same class as friendship, loyalty, love of kin, affection for home. The links that bind us to the past and the threads that stretch out into the future are more satisfactory to us here in the United States, with the complexity of its interests for us, than they would be in Nicaragua, or Guam, or Iceland. Then of what country in the realm of literature do you desire to be a citizen? Of the one where Shakespeare is king and where your familiar and daily speech is with the great ones of this earth--those whose wise, witty, good, or inspiring words, spoken for centuries past, have been recorded in books? Or would you prefer to dwell with triviality and banality--perhaps with Laura Jean Libbey or even with Mary J. Holmes, and those a little better than these--or a little worse. I am one of those who believe in the best associations, literary as well as social. And associations may have their effect even if they are apparently trivial or superficial. When the open-shelf library was first introduced we were told that one of its chief advantages was that it encouraged "browsing"--the somewhat aimless rambling about and dipping here and there into a book. Obviously this can not be done in a closed-shelf library. But of late it has been suggested, in one quarter or another, that although this may be a pleasant occupation to some, or even to most, it is not a profitable one. Opponents of the open shelf of whom there are still one or two, here and there, find in this conclusion a reason for negativing the argument in its favor, while those of its advocates who accept this view see in it only a reason for basing that argument wholly on other grounds. Now those of us who like a thing do not relish being told that it is not good for us. We feel that pleasure was intended as an outward sign of benefits received and although it may in abnormal conditions deceive us, we are right in demanding proof before distrusting its indications. When the cow absorbs physical nutriment by browsing, she does so without further reason than that she likes it. Does the absorber of mental pabulum from books argue wrongly from similar premises? Many things are hastily and wrongly condemned because they do not achieve certain results that they were not intended to achieve. And in particular, when a thing exists in several degrees or grades, some one of those grades is often censured, although good in itself, because it is not a grade or two higher. Obviously everything depends on what is required. When a shopper wants just three yards of cloth, she would be foolish to buy four. She would, of course, be even more foolish to imagine that, if she really wished four, three would do just as well. But if a man wants to go to the eighth story of a building, he should not be condemned because he does not mount to the ninth; if he wishes a light lunch, he should not be found fault with for not ordering a seven-course dinner. And yet we continually hear persons accused of "superficiality" who purposely and knowingly acquire some slight degree of knowledge of a subject instead of a higher degree. And others are condemned, we will say, for reading for amusement when they might have read for serious information, without inquiring whether amusement, in this instance, was not precisely what they needed. It may be, therefore, that browsing is productive of some good result, and that it fails to effect some other, perhaps some higher, result which its critics have wrongly fixed upon as the one desirable thing in this connection. When a name embodies a figure of speech, we may often learn something by following up the figure to see how far it holds good. What does an animal do, and what does it not do, when it "browses"? In the first place it eats food--fresh, growing food; but, secondly, it eats this food by cropping off the tips of the herbage, not taking much at once, and again, it moves about from place to place, eating now here and now there and then making selection, from one motive or another, but presumably following the dictates of its own taste or fancy. What does it not do? First, it does not, from choice, eat anything bad. Secondly, it does not necessarily consume all of its food in this way. If it finds a particularly choice spot, it may confine its feeding to that spot; or, if its owner sees fit, he may remove it to the stable, where it may stand all day and eat what he chooses to give it. The benefits of browsing are, first, the nourishment actually derived from the food taken, coupled with the fact that it is taken in small quantities, and in great variety; and secondly, the knowledge of good spots, obtained from the testing of one spot after another, throughout the whole broad pasture. Now I submit that our figure of speech holds good in all these particulars. The literary "browser" partakes of his mental food from books and is thereby nourished and stimulated; he takes it here and there in brief quantities, moving from section to section and from shelf to shelf, selecting choice morsels of literature as fancy may dictate. He does not, if he is a healthy reader, absorb voluntarily anything that will hurt him, and this method of literary absorption does not preclude other methods of mental nourishment. He may like a book so much that he proceeds to devour it whole, or his superiors in knowledge may remove him to a place where necessary mental food is administered more or less forcibly. And having gone so far with our comparison, we shall make no mistake if we go a little further and say that the benefits of browsing to the reader are twofold, as they are to the material feeder--the absorption of actual nutriment in his own wilful, wayward manner--a little at a time and in great variety; and the knowledge of good reading obtained from such a wide testing of the field. Are not these real benefits, and are they not desirable? I fear that our original surmise was correct and that browsing is condemned not for what it does, but because it fails to do something that it could not be expected to do. Of course, if one were to browse continuously he would be unable to feed in any other way. Attendance upon school or the continuous reading of any book whatever would be obviously impossible. To avoid misunderstanding, therefore, we will agree at this point that whatever may be said here in commendation of browsing is on condition that it be occasional and not excessive and that the normal amount of continuous reading and study proceed together with it. Having settled, therefore, that browsing is a good thing when one does not occupy one's whole time with it, let us examine its advantages a little more in detail. First: about the mental nourishment that is absorbed in browsing; the specific information, the appreciation of what is good, the intellectual stimulation--not that which comes from reading suggested or guided by browsing, but from the actual process itself. I have heard it strenuously denied that any such absorption occurs; the bits taken are too small, the motion of the browser is too rapid, the whole process is too desultory. Let us see. In the first place a knowledge of authors and titles and of the general character of their works is by no means to be despised. I heard the other day of a presumably educated woman who betrayed in a conversation her ignorance of Omar Khayyam--not lack of acquaintance with his works, but lack of knowledge that such a person had ever existed. If at some period in her life she had held in her hand a copy of "The Rubaiyat," and had glanced at its back, without even opening it, how much embarrassment she might have been spared! And if, in addition, she had glanced within for just ten seconds and had discovered that he wrote poetry in stanzas of four lines each, she would have known as much about Omar as do many of those who would contemptuously scoff at her ignorance. With so brief effort may we acquire literary knowledge sufficient to avoid embarrassment in ordinary conversation. Browsing in a good library, if the browser has a memory, will soon equip him with a wide range of knowledge of this kind. Nor is such knowledge to be sneered at as superficial. It is all that we know, or need to know, about scores of authors. One may never study higher mathematics, but it may be good for him to know that Lagrange was a French author who wrote on analytical mechanics, that Euclid was a Greek geometer, and that Hamilton invented quaternions. All this and vastly more may be impressed on the mind by an hour in the mathematical alcove of a library of moderate size. And it will do no harm to a boy to know that Benvenuto Cellini wrote his autobiography, even if the inevitable perusal of the book is delayed for several years, or that Felicia Hemans, James Thomson, and Robert Herrick wrote poetry, independently of familiarity with their works, or that "Lamia" is not something to eat or "As you like it" a popular novel. Information of this kind is almost impossible to acquire from lists or from oral statement, whereas a moment's handling of a book in the concrete may fix it in the mind for good and all. So far, we have not supposed that even a word of the contents has been read. What, now, if a sentence, a stanza, a paragraph, a page, passes into the brain through the eye? Those who measure literary effect by the thousand words or by the hour are making a great mistake. The lightning flash is over in a fraction of a second, but in that time it may reveal a scene of beauty, may give the traveller warning of the fatal precipice, or may shatter the farmer's home into kindling wood. Intellectual lightning may strike the "browser" as he stands there book in hand before the shelf. A word, a phrase, may sear into his brain--may turn the current of his whole life. And even if no such epoch-making words meet his eye, in how brief a time may he read, digest, appreciate, some of the gems of literature! Leigh Hunt's "Jennie kissed me" would probably take about thirty seconds; on a second reading he would have it by heart--the joy of a life-time. How many meaty epigrams would take as long? The whole of Gray's "Elegy" is hardly beyond the browser's limit. In an editorial on the Harvard Classics in the "Chicago evening post", (April 22), we read, "the cultural tabloid has very little virtue;... to gain everything that a book has to give one must be submerged in it, saturated and absorbed". This is very much like saying, "there is very little nourishment in a sandwich; to get the full effect of a luncheon you must eat everything on the table". It is a truism to say that you can not get everything in a book without reading all of it; but it by no means follows that the virtue of less than the whole is negligible. So much for the direct effect of what one may thus take in, bit by bit. The indirect effect is even more important. For by sampling a whole literature, as he does, he not only gets a bird's-eye view of it, but he finds out what he likes and what he dislikes; he begins to form his taste. Are you afraid that he will form it wrong? I am not. We are assuming that the library where he browses is a good one; here is no chance of evil, only a choice between different kinds of good. And even if the evil be there, it is astonishing how the healthy mind will let it slip and fasten eagerly on the good. Would you prefer a taste fixed by someone who tells the browser what he ought to like? Then that is not the reader's own taste at all, but that of his informant. We have too much of this sort of thing--too many readers without an atom of taste of their own who will say, for instance, that they adore George Meredith, because some one has told them that all intellectual persons do so. The man who frankly loves George Ade and can yet see nothing in Shakespeare may one day discover Shakespeare. The man who reads Shakespeare merely because he thinks he ought to is hopeless. But what a triumph, to stand spell-bound by the art of a writer whose name you never heard, and then discover that he is one of the great ones of the world! Nought is comparable to it except perhaps to pick out all by yourself in the exhibition the one picture that the experts have chosen for the museum or to be able to say you liked olives the first time you tasted them. Who are your favorites? Did some one guide you to them or did you find them yourselves? I will warrant that in many cases you discovered them and that this is why you love them. I discovered DeQuincey's romances, Praed's poetry, Béranger in French, Heine in German, "The Arabian nights", Molière, Irving's "Alhambra," hundreds of others probably. I am sure that I love them all far more than if some one had told me they were good books. If I had been obliged to read them in school and pass an examination on them, I should have hated them. The teacher who can write an examination paper on Gray's "Elegy", would, I firmly believe, cut up his grandmother alive before the physiology class. And next to the author or the book that you have discovered yourself comes the one that the discoverer himself--your boy or girl friend--tells you about. _He_ knows a good thing--_she_ knows it! No school nonsense about that; no adult misunderstanding. I found out Poe that way, and Thackeray's "Major Gahagan", and many others. To go back to our old illustration and consider for a moment not the book but the mind, the personality whose ideas it records, such association with books represents association with one's fellowmen in society--at a reception, in school or college, at a club. Some we pass by with a nod, with some we exchange a word; sometimes there is a warm handgrasp; sometimes a long conversation. No matter what the mental contact may be, it has its effects--we are continually gaining knowledge, making new friends, receiving fresh inspiration. The complexion of this kind of daily association determines the cast of one's mind, the thoroughness of his taste, the usefulness or uselessness of what he does. A man is known by the company he keeps, because that company forms him; he gets from it what becomes brain of his brain and soul of his soul. And no less is he formed by his mental associations with the good and the great of all ages whom he meets in books and who talk to him there. More rather than less; for into a book the writer puts generally what is best in him, laying aside the pettiness, the triviality, the downright wickedness that may have characterized him in the flesh. I have often heard the comment from one who had met face to face a writer whose work he loved--"Oh! he disappointed me so!" How disappointed might we be with Thackeray, with Dickens, even with Shakespeare, could we meet them in the flesh! Now they can not disappoint us, for we know only what they have left on record--the best, the most enduring part, purified from what is gross and earthly. In and among such company as this it is your privilege to live and move, almost without money and without price. Thank God for books; let them be your friends and companions through life--for information, for recreation, but above all for inspiration. ATOMIC THEORIES OF ENERGY[6] [6] Read before the St. Louis Academy of Science. A theory involving some sort of a discrete or discontinuous structure of energy has been put forward by Prof. Max Planck of the University of Berlin. The various aspects of this theory are discussed and elaborated by the late M. Henri Poincaré in a paper entitled "L'Hypothèse des Quanta," published in the _Revue Scientifique_ (Paris, Feb. 21, 1912). A paper in which a discontinuous or "atomic" structure of energy was suggested was prepared by the present writer fifteen years ago but remains unpublished for reasons that will appear later. Although he has no desire to put in a claim of priority and is well aware that failure to publish would put any such claim out of court, it seems to him that in connection with present radical developments in physical theory the paper, together with some correspondence relating thereto, has historical interest. Planck's theory was suggested by thermodynamical considerations. In the paper now to be quoted the matter was approached from the standpoint of a criterion for determining the identity of two portions of matter or of energy. The paper is as follows: _Some Consideration on the Identity of Definite Portions of Energy_ It has been remarked recently that physicists are now divided into two opposing schools according to the way in which they view the subject of energy, some regarding it as a mere mathematical abstraction and others looking upon it as a physical entity, filling space and continuously migrating by definite paths from one place to another. It may be added that there are numerous factions within these two parties; for instance, not all of those who consider energy to be something more than a mere mathematical expression would maintain that a given quantity of it retains its identity just as a given quantity of matter does. In fact a close analysis would possibly show that opinions are graded very closely and continuously from a view hardly differing from that of Lagrange, who clearly saw and freely used the mathematical considerations involving energy before the word had been invented or its physical meaning developed, up to that stated recently in its extreme form by Professor Ostwald, who would replace what he terms a mechanical theory of the universe by an "energetical" theory, and would dwell exclusively on energy as opposed to its vehicles. Differences of opinion of this sort very frequently reduce to differences of definition, and in this case the meaning of the word "identity" or some similar word or phrase has undoubtedly much to do with the view that is taken of the matter. It may be interesting, for instance, to look for a moment at our ideas of the identity of matter and the extent to which they are influenced by the accepted theory of its constitution. Very few persons would hesitate to admit that the matter that now constitutes the universe is identical in amount with that which constituted it one million years ago, and that any given portion of that matter is identical with an equal amount of matter that then existed, although the situations of the parts of that portion might be and probably were widely different in the two classes. To assert this is of course a very different thing from asserting that the identity of the two portions or any parts thereof could have been practically shown by following them during all their changes of location or state. That cannot be done even in the case of some simple changes that are effected in a fraction of a second. For instance, if water from the pail A be mixed with water from the pail B there is no possible way of telling which pail any given portion of the mixture came from or in what proportions, yet it is certain that such portion is identical with a portion of equal mass that recently occupied part of one or both pails. How far our certainty as to this is influenced by our ideas regarding the ultimate constitution of the water is worthy of investigation. All who accept the molecular theory, for instance, will regard our inability to trace the elements of a mixture as due to purely physical limitations. A set of Maxwell's "demons" if bidden to watch the molecules of the water in pail A, one demon being assigned to each molecule, would be able to tell us at any time the precise proportions of any given part of the mixture. But if we should not accept the molecular theory and believe for instance, that water is a continuum, absolutely homogeneous, no matter how small portions of it be selected, then our demons would be as powerless as we ourselves now are to trace the constituents in the mixture. We are now in a position to ask the question: Is the matter in a mixture of two continua identical with that of its constituents? The identity certainly seems of a different kind or degree from that which obtains in the first case, for there is no part, however small, that was derived from one pail alone. The mixture is something more than a mere juxtaposition of elements each of which has retained its identity; it is now of such nature that no part of it is identical with any part of A alone or of B alone, nor of A+B, where the sign + denotes simple juxtaposition. It is identical, to be sure, with a perfect mixture of certain parts of A and B, but this is simply saying that it is identical with what it is now, that is, with itself, not with something that went before. Probably no one now believes that water or any other kind of matter is a continuum, but the bearing of what has been said may be seen when we remember that this is precisely the present stage of our belief regarding energy. No one, so far as I know, has ventured to suggest what may be termed a molecular theory of energy, a somewhat remarkable fact when we consider the control now exercised over all thought in physics by molecular theories of matter. While we now believe, for instance, that a material body, say a crystal, can by no possibility increase continuously in mass, but must do so step by step, the minimum mass of matter that can be added being the molecule, we believe on the contrary that the energy possessed by the same body can and may increase with absolutely perfect continuity, being hampered by no such restriction. It is not the purpose of this paper to discuss whether we have grounds for belief that there is such a thing as a minimum quantity, or atom, of energy, that does not separate into smaller parts, no matter what changes it undergoes. Suffice it to say that there appears to be no _a priori_ absurdity in such an idea. At first sight both matter and energy appear non-molecular in structure. But we have been forced to look upon the gradual growth of a crystal as a step-by-step process, and we may some day, by equally cogent considerations, be forced to regard the gradual increase of energy of an accelerating body as also a step-by-step process, although the discontinuity is as invisible to the eye in the latter case as in the former. Without following this out any farther, however, the point may be here emphasized that it is hardly possible for one who, like the majority of physicists, regards matter as molecular and energy as a continuum, to hold the same ideas regarding the identity of the two. Efforts to show that definite portions of energy, like definite portions of matter, retain their identity have hitherto been made chiefly on the lines of a demonstration that energy travels by definite and continuous paths in space just as matter does. This is very well, but it would appear to be necessary to supplement it with evidence to show that the lines representing these paths do not form at their intersections continuous blurs that not only forbid any practical attempt at identification on emergence, but make it doubtful whether we can in any true sense call the issuing path identical with the entering one. Otherwise the identity of energy can be admitted to be only that kind of identity that could be preserved by matter if its molecular structure did not exist. One who can admit that this sort of identity is the same sort that can be preserved by molecular matter may be able to hold the identity of energy in the present state of the evidence, but the present attitude of physicists would seem to show that, whether they realize the connection of the two subjects or not, they cannot take this view. In other words, modern views of the identity of matter seem closely connected with modern views of its structure, and the same connection will doubtless hold good for energy. Regarding the probable success of an attempt to prove that energy has a "structure" analogous to the molecular structure of matter, any prediction would doubtless be rash just now. The writer has been unable, up to the present time, to disprove the proposition, but the subject is one of corresponding importance to that of the whole molecular theory of matter and should not be entered upon lightly. * * * * * The writer freely acknowledges at present that the illustrations in the foregoing are badly chosen and some of the statements are too strong, but it still represents essentially his ideas on the subject. No reputable scientific journal would undertake to publish it. The paper was then sent to Prof. J. Willard Gibbs of Yale, and elicited the following letter from him: "NEW HAVEN, JUNE 2, 1897. "MY DEAR MR. BOSTWICK: "I regret that I have allowed your letter to lie so long unanswered. It was in fact not very easy to answer, and when one lays a letter aside to answer, the weeks slip away very fast. "I do not think that you state the matter quite right in regard to the mixture of fluids if they were continuous. The mixing of water as I regard it would be like this, if it were continuous and not molecular. Suppose you should take strips of white and red glass and heat them until soft and twist them together. Keep on drawing them out and doubling them up and twisting them together. It would soon require a microscope to distinguish the red and white glass, which would be drawn out into thinner and thinner filaments if the matter were continuous. But it would be always only a matter of optical power to distinguish perfectly the portion of red and white glass. The stirring up of water from two pails would not really mix them but only entangle filaments from the pails. "To come to the case of energy. All our ideas concerning energy seem to require that it is capable of gradual increase. Thus the energy due to velocity can increase continuously if velocity can. Since the energy is as the square of the velocity, if the velocity can only increase discontinuously by equal increments, the energy of the body will increase by unequal increments in such a way as to make the exchange of energy between bodies a very awkward matter to adjust. "But apart from the question of the increase of energy by discontinuous increments, the question of relative and absolute motion makes it very hard to give a particular position to energy, since the 'energy' we speak of in any case is not one quantity but may be interpreted in a great many ways. Take the important case of two equal elastic balls. One, moving, strikes the other at rest, we say, and gives it nearly all its energy. But we have no right to call one ball at rest and we can not say (as anything absolute) which of the balls has lost and which has gained energy. If there is such a thing as absolute energy of motion it is something entirely unknowable to us. Take the solar system, supposed isolated. We may take as our origin of coordinates the center of gravity of the system. Or we may take an origin with respect to which the center of gravity of the solar system has any (constant) velocity. The kinetic energy of the earth, for example, may have any value whatever, and the principle of the conservation of energy will hold in any case for the whole solar system. But the shifting of energy from one planet to another will take place entirely differently when we estimate the energies with reference to different origins. "It does not seem to me that your ideas fit in with what we know about nature. If you ask my advice, I should not advise you to try to publish them. "At best you would be entering into a discussion (perhaps not in bad company) in which words would play a greater part than precise ideas. "This is the way I feel about it. "I remain, "Yours faithfully, "J.W. GIBBS." Professor Gibbs's criticism of the illustration of water-mixture is evidently just. Another might well have been used where the things mixed are not material--for instance, the value of money deposited in a bank. If A and B each deposits $100 to C's credit and C then draws $10, there is evidently no way of determining what part of it came from A and what from B. The structure of "value", in other words, is perfectly continuous. Professor Gibbs's objections to an "atomic" theory of the structure of energy are most interesting. The difficulties that it involves are not overstated. In 1897 they made it unnecessary, but since that time considerations have been brought forward, and generally recognized, which may make it necessary to brave those difficulties. Planck's theory was suggested by the apparent necessity of modifying the generally accepted theory of statistical equilibrium involving the so called "law of equipartition," enunciated first for gases and extended to liquids and solids. In the first place the kinetic theory fixes the number of degrees of freedom of each gaseous molecule, which would be three for argon, for instance, and five for oxygen. But what prevents either from having the six degrees to which ordinary mechanical theory entitles it? Furthermore, the oxygen spectrum has more than five lines, and the molecule must therefore vibrate in more than five modes. "Why," asks Poincaré, "do certain degrees of freedom appear to play no part here; why are they, so to speak, 'ankylosed'?" Again, suppose a system in statistical equilibrium, each part gaining on an average, in a short time, exactly as much as it loses. If the system consists of molecules and ether, as the former have a finite number of degrees of freedom and the latter an infinite number, the unmodified law of equipartition would require that the ether should finally appropriate all energy, leaving none of it to the matter. To escape this conclusion we have Rayleigh's law that the radiated energy, for a given wave length, is proportional to the absolute temperature, and for a given temperature is in inverse ratio to the fourth power of the wave-length. This is found by Planck to be experimentally unverifiable, the radiation being less for small wave-lengths and low temperatures, than the law requires. Still again, the specific heats of solids, instead of being sensibly constant at all temperatures, are found to diminish rapidly in the low temperatures now available in liquid air or hydrogen and apparently tend to disappear at absolute zero. "All takes place," says Poincaré, "as if these molecules lost some of their degrees of freedom in cooling--as if some of their articulations froze at the limit." Planck attempts to explain these facts by introducing the idea of what he calls "quanta" of energy. To quote from Poincaré's paper: "How should we picture a radiating body? We know that a Hertz resonator sends into the ether Hertzian waves that are identical with luminous waves; an incandescent body must then be regarded as containing a very great number of tiny resonators. When the body is heated, these resonators acquire energy, start vibrating and consequently radiate. "Planck's hypothesis consists in the supposition that each of these resonators can acquire or lose energy only by abrupt jumps, in such a way that the store of energy that it possesses must always be a multiple of a constant quantity, which he calls a 'quantum'--must be composed of a whole number of quanta. This indivisible unit, this quantum, is not the same for all resonators; it is in inverse ratio to the wave-length, so that resonators of short period can take in energy only in large pieces, while those of long period can absorb or give it out by small bits. What is the result? Great effort is necessary to agitate a short-period resonator, since this requires at least a quantity of energy equal to its quantum, which is great. The chances are, then, that these resonators will keep quiet, especially if the temperature is low, and it is for this reason that there is relatively little short-wave radiation in 'black radiation'... The diminution of specific-heats is explained similarly: When the temperature falls, a large number of vibrators fall below their quantum and cease to vibrate, so that the total energy diminishes faster than the old theories require." Here we have the germs of an atomic theory of energy. As Poincaré now points out, the trouble is that the quanta are not constant. In his study of the matter he notes that the work of Prof. Wilhelm Wien, of Würzburg, leads by theory to precisely the conclusion announced by Planck that if we are to hold to the accepted ideas of statistical equilibrium the energy can vary only by quanta inversely proportional to wave-length. The mechanical property of the resonators imagined by Planck is therefore precisely that which Wien's theory requires. If we are to suppose atoms of energy, therefore, they must be variable atoms. There are other objections which need not be touched upon here, the whole theory being in a very early stage. To quote Poincaré again: "The new conception is seductive from a certain standpoint: for some time the tendency has been toward atomism. Matter appears to us as formed of indivisible atoms; electricity is no longer continuous, not infinitely divisible. It resolves itself into equally-charged electrons; we have also now the magneton, or atom of magnetism. From this point of view the quanta appear as _atoms_ of _energy_. Unfortunately the comparison may not be pushed to the limit; a hydrogen atom is really invariable.... The electrons preserve their individuality amid the most diverse vicissitudes, is it the same with the atoms of energy? We have, for instance, three quanta of energy in a resonator whose wave-length is 3; this passes to a second resonator whose wave-length is 5; it now represents not 3 but 5 quanta, since the quantum of the new resonator is smaller and in the transformation the number of atoms and the size of each has changed." If, however, we replace the atom of energy by an "atom of action," these atoms may be considered equal and invariable. The whole study of thermodynamic equilibrium has been reduced by the French mathematical school to a question of probability. "The probability of a continuous variable is obtained by considering elementary independent domains of equal probability.... In the classic dynamics we use, to find these elementary domains, the theorem that two physical states of which one is the necessary effect of the other are equally probable. In a physical system if we represent by _q_ one of the generalized coordinates and by _p_ the corresponding momentum, according to Liouville's theorem the domain [double integral]_dpdq_, considered at given instant, is invariable with respect to the time if _p_ and _q_ vary according to Hamilton's equations. On the other hand _p_ and _q_ may, at a given instant take all possible values, independent of each other. Whence it follows that the elementary domain is infinitely small, of the magnitude _dpdq_.... The new hypothesis has for its object to restrict the variability of _p_ and _q_ so that these variables will only change by jumps.... Thus the number of elementary domains of probability is reduced and the extent of each is augmented. The hypothesis of quanta of action consists in supposing that these domains are all equal and no longer infinitely small but finite and that for each [double integral]_dpdq_ equals _h_, _h_ being a constant." Put a little less mathematically, this simply means that as energy equals action multiplied by frequency, the fact that the quantum of energy is proportional to the frequency (or inversely to the wave-length as stated above) is due simply to the fact that the quantum of action is constant--a real atom. The general effect on our physical conceptions, however, is the same: we have a purely discontinuous universe--discontinuous not only in matter but in energy and the flow of time. M. Poincaré thus puts it: "A physical system is susceptible only of a finite number of distinct states; it leaps from one of these to the next without passing through any continuous series of intermediate states." He notes later: "The universe, then, leaps suddenly from one state to another; but in the interval it must remain immovable, and the divers instants during which it keeps in the same state can no longer be discriminated from one another; we thus reach a conception of the discontinuous variation of time--the atom of _time_." I quote in conclusion, Poincaré's final remarks: "The present state of the question is thus as follows: the old theories, which hitherto seemed to account for all the known phenomena, have met with an unexpected obstacle. Seemingly a modification becomes necessary. A hypothesis has presented itself to M. Planck's mind, but so strange a one that one is tempted to seek every means of escaping it; these means, however, have been sought vainly. The new theory, however, raises a host of difficulties, many of which are real and not simply illusions due to the indolence of our minds, unwilling to change their modes of thought.... "Is discontinuity to reign through out the physical universe, and is its triumph definitive? Or rather shall we find that it is but apparent and hides a series of continuous processes?... To try to give an opinion just now on these questions would only be to waste ink." It only remains to call attention again to the fact that this conception of the discontinuity of energy, the acceptance of which Poincaré says would be "the most profound revolution that natural philosophy has undergone since Newton" was suggested by the present writer fifteen years ago. Its reception and serious consideration by one of the first mathematical physicists of the world seems a sufficient justification of its suggestion then as a legitimate scientific hypothesis. THE ADVERTISEMENT OF IDEAS Writing is a device for the storage of ideas--the only device for this purpose prior to the invention of the phonograph, and not now likely to be generally superseded. A book consists of stored ideas; sometimes it is like a box, from which the contents must be lifted slowly and with more or less toil; sometimes like a storage battery where one only has to make the right kind of contact to get a discharge. At any rate, if we want people to use books or to use them more, or to use them better, or to use a different kind from that which they now use, we must lose sight for a moment of the material part of the book, which is only the box or the lead and acid of the storage battery, and fix our attention on the stored ideas, which are what everybody wants--everybody, that is, except those who collect books as curiosities. The subject of this lecture is thus only library advertising, about which we have heard a good deal of late, but we shall try to confine its applications to this inner or ideal substance which it is our special business as librarians to purvey. And first, in considering the matter, it may be worth while to say a word about advertising in general. Practically an advertisement is an announcement by somebody who has something to distribute. Announcements of this kind may be classified, it seems to me, as economic, uneconomic and illegitimate. The most elementary form is that of the person who tells you where you can get something that you want--a simple statement that someone is a barber or an inn-keeper, or gives music lessons, or has shoes for sale. This may be accompanied by an effort to show that the goods offered are of specially good quality or have some feature that makes them particularly desirable, either to consumers in general or to those of a certain class. This is all surely economic, so long as nothing but the truth is told. Next we have an effort not only to supply existing wants and to direct them into some particular channel, but to create a new field, to make people realize a lack previously not felt; in other words to make people want something that they need. This may be done simply by exhibiting or describing the article or it may require long and skillful presentation of the matter. All this is still economic. But it requires only a step to carry us across the line. Next the enthusiastic advertiser strives to make someone want that which he does not need. As may be seen, the line here is difficult to determine, but this sort of advertising is surely not economic. So long as the thing not needed is not really injurious, however, the advertising cannot be called illegitimate. It is simply uneconomic. The world would be better off without it, but we may look for its abolition only to the increase of good judgment and intelligence among consumers. When an attempt however, is made to cause a man to want something that is really injurious, then the act becomes illegitimate and should be prevented. Another class of illegitimate advertising is that which would be perfectly allowable if it were truthful and becomes objectionable only because its representations are false. It may be ostensibly of any of the types noted above. As we have already noted, the material objects distributed by the librarian are valued not for their physical characteristics but for a different reason altogether, the fact that they contain stored ideas. Ideas which, according to some, are merely the relative positions of material particles in the brain, and which are indisputably accompanied and conditioned by such positions, here subsist in the form of peculiar and visible arrangements of particles of printer's ink upon paper, which are capable under certain conditions of generating in the human brain ideas precisely similar to those that gave them birth. And although the book cannot think for itself, but must merely preserve the idea intrusted to it, without change, it is vastly superior in stability to the brain that gave it birth, so that thousands of years after that brain has mouldered into dust it is capable of reproducing the original ideas in a second brain where they may germinate and bear fruit. How familiar all this is, and yet how perennially wonderful! The miracle of it is sufficient excuse for this digression. Now books, beside this modern form of distribution by loan, are widely distributed commercially both by loan and by sale, and especially in the latter form advertisement is now very extensively used in connection with the distribution. In fact we have all the different types specified above--economic, uneconomic and illegitimate, both through misrepresentation and the harmful character of the subject matter. The reason for all illegitimate forms of advertising is of course not a desire to misrepresent or to do harm per se, but to make money, the profit to the distributor being proportioned to the amount of distribution done and not at all dependent on its economic value. Distribution by public officers is of course not open to this objection, nor are the distributors subject to temptation, since their compensation does not depend on the amount of distribution. If they are capable and interested, furthermore, they are particularly desirous to increase the economic value of the work that they are doing. Since this is so and since the danger of uneconomic or harmful forms of advertising is thus reduced to a minimum, there would seem to be special reason why the economic forms should be employed very freely. But the fact is that they have been used sparingly, and by some librarians shunned altogether. Let us see what library advertising of the economic types may mean. In the first place it means telling those who want books where they may get them. This simple task is rarely performed completely or satisfactorily. It is astonishing how many inhabitants of a large town do not even know where the public library is. Everyone realizes this who has ever tried to find a public library in a strange place. I once asked repeatedly of passers-by in a crowded city street a block distant from a library (in this case not architecturally conspicuous) before finding one who knew its whereabouts; in another city I inquired in vain of a conductor who passed the building every few hours in his car. In the latter case the library was a beautiful structure calculated to move the curiosity of a less stolid citizen. In New York inquiry would probably cause you to reach the nearest branch library, anything more remote than that being beyond the local intelligence. Sometimes I think we had better drop all our far-reaching plans for civic betterment and devote our time for a few years to causing citizens, lettered and unlettered alike to memorize some such simple formula as this: "There is a Public Library. It is on Blank street. We may borrow books there, free." You will notice that I have inserted in this formula one item of information that pertains to use, not location. For of those who know of the existence and location of the Public Library there are many whose ideas of its contents and their uses, and of the conditions and value of such uses, are limited and crude. The advertising that succeeds in bettering this state of things is surely doing an economic service. All these things the self-respecting citizen should know. But beyond and above all this there is the final economic service of advertising--the causing a man to want that which he needs but does not yet desire. Every man, woman and child in every town and village needs books in some shape, degree, form or substance. And yet the proportion of those who desire them is yet outrageously small, though encouragingly on the increase. Here no memorizing of a formula, even could we compass it, could suffice. This kind of advertising means the realization of something lacking in a life. Is the awakening of such a realization too much for us? Are we to stand by and see our neighbors all about us awakening to the undoubted fact that they need telephones in their houses, and electric runabouts, and mechanical fans in hot weather, and pianolas, and new kinds of breakfast food, while we despair of awakening them to their needs of books--quite as undoubted? Are we to admit that personal gain, which was the victorious motive that spurred on the commercial advertisers in these and countless other instances, is to be counted more mighty than the desire to do a service to our fellowmen and to fulfill the duties of our positions--which should spur us on? I am not foolish enough to suppose that by placarding the fences with the words "Books! Books!" as the patent medicine man does with "Curoline! Curoline!" we shall make any progress. The patent medicine man is right; he wants to excite curiosity and familiarize the public with the name of his nostrum. They all know what a book is--and alas the name is not even unknown and mysterious--would that it were! It calls up in many minds associations which, if we are to be successful we must combat, overthrow, and replace by others. To many--sad it is to say it--a book is an abhorrent thing; to more still, it is a thing of absolute indifference. To some a book is merely a collection of things, having no ascertainable relationships, that one is required to memorize; to others it is a collection of statements, difficult to understand, out of which the meaning must be extracted by hard study; to very few indeed does the book appear to be what it really is--a message from another mind. People will go to a seance and listen with thrills to the silliest stuff purporting to proceed from Plato or Daniel Webster or Abraham Lincoln, when in the Public Library, a few blocks away are important and authentic messages from those same persons, to which they have never given heed. Such a message derives interest and significance from circumstances outside itself. Very few books create their own atmosphere unaided. They presuppose a system of abilities, opinions, prejudices, likes and dislikes, intellectual connections and what not, that is little less than appalling, if we try to follow it up. Dislike of books or indifference toward them is often simply the result of a lack of these things or of some component part of them. We must supply what is lacking if we are to arouse a desire for books in those who do not yet possess it. I say that such a labor is difficult enough to interest him whose pleasure it is to essay hard tasks; it is noble enough to attract him who loves his fellow-man; success in it is rare enough and glorious enough to stimulate him who likes to succeed where others have failed. Advertising may be good or bad, noble or ignoble, right or wrong, according to what is advertised and our methods of advertising it. He who would scorn to announce the curative powers of bottled spring-water and pink aniline dye; he who regards it as a commonplace task to urge upon the spendthrift public the purchase of unnecessary gloves and neckties, may well feel a thrill of satisfaction and of anticipation in the task of advertising ideas and of persuading the unheeding citizen to appropriate what he has been accustomed to view with indifference. To get at the root of the matter, let us inquire why it is that so many persons do not care for books. We may divide them, I think, into two classes--those who do not care, or appear not to care for ideas at all, whether stored in books or not; and those who do care for ideas but who either do not easily get them out of storage or do not realize that they can be and are stored in books. Absolute carelessness of ideas is, it seems to me, rather apparent than real. It exists only in the idiot. There are those to be sure that care about a very limited range of ideas; but about some ideas they always care. We must, in our advertisement of ideas, bear this in mind--the necessity of offering to each that which he considers it worth his while to take. If I were asked what is the most fundamentally interesting subject to all classes, I should unhesitatingly reply "philosophy." Not, perhaps, the philosophy of the schools, but the individual philosophy that every man and woman has, and that is precisely alike in no two of us. I have heard a tiny boy, looking up suddenly from his play, ask "Why do we live?" This and its correlative "Why do we die?" Whence come we and whither do we go? What is the universe and what are our relations to it--these questions in some form have occurred to everyone who thinks at all. They are discussed around the stove at the corner grocery, in the logging camp, on the ranch, in clubs and at boarding-house tables. Sometimes they take a theological turn--free will, the origin and purpose of evil, and so on. I do not purpose to give here a catalogue of the things in which an ordinary man is interested, and I have said this only to remind you that his interest may be vivid even in connection with subjects usually considered abstruse. This interest in ideas we may call the library's raw material; anything that tends to create it, to broaden it, to extend it to new fields and to direct it into paths that are worth while is making it possible for the library to do better and wider work--is helping on its campaign of publicity. This establishes a web of connecting fibers between the library and all human activity. The man who is getting interested in his work, debaters at a labor union, students at school and college, the worker for civic reform, the poetic dreamer--all are creating a demand for ideas that makes it easier for the library to advertise them. Those who object to some of the outside work done by modern libraries should try to look at the whole matter from this standpoint. The library is taking its place as a public utility with other public utilities. Its relations with them are becoming more evident; the ties between them are growing stronger. As in all cases of such growth it is becoming increasingly difficult to identify the boundaries between them, so fast and so thoroughly do the activities of each reach over these lines and interpenetrate those of the others. And unless there is actual wasteful duplication of work, we need not bother about our respective spheres. These activities are all human; they are mutually interesting and valuable. A library need be afraid of doing nothing that makes for the spread of interest in ideas, so long as it is not neglecting its own particular work of the collection, preservation and distribution of ideas as stored in books, and is not duplicating others' work wastefully. When we observe those who are already interested in ideas, however, we find that not all are interested in them as they are stored up in books. Some of these cannot read; their number is small with us and growing smaller; we may safely leave the schools to deal with them. Others can read, but they do not easily apprehend ideas through print. Some of these must read aloud so that they may get the sound of the words, before these really mean anything to them. These persons need practice in reading. They get it now largely through the newspapers, but their number is still large. A person in this condition may be intellectually somewhat advanced. He may be able to discuss single-tax with some acumen, for instance. It is a mistake to suppose that because a person understands a subject or likes a thing and is able to talk well about it, he will enjoy and appreciate a book on that subject or thing. It may be as difficult for him to get at the meat of it as if it were a half-understood foreign tongue. You who know enough French to buy a pair of gloves or sufficient German to inquire the way to the station, may tackle a novel in the original and realize at once the hazy degree of such a person's apprehension. He may stick to it and become an easy reader, but on the other hand your well-meant publicity efforts may place in his hands a book that will simply discourage and ultimately repel him, sending him to join the army of those to whom no books appeal. Next we find those who understand how to read and to read with ease, but to whom books--at any rate certain classes of books--are not interesting. Now interest in a subject may be so great that one will wade through the driest literature about it, but such interest belongs to the few--not to the many. I have come to the conclusion that more readers have had their interest killed or lessened by books than have had it aroused or stimulated. This is a proportion that it is our business as librarians to reverse. More of this unfortunate and heart-breaking, interest-killing work than I like to think of goes on in school. Not necessarily; for the name of those is legion who have had their eyes opened to the beauties of literature by good teachers. This makes it all the more maddening when we think how many poor teachers, or good teachers with mistaken methods, or indifferent teachers, have succeeded in associating with books in the minds of their pupils simply burdensome tasks--the gloom and heaviness of life rather than its joy and lightness. Such boys and girls will no more touch a book after leaving school than you or I would touch a scorpion after one had stung us. Perhaps it is useless to try to change this; possibly it is none of our business, though we have already seen that there are reasons to the contrary. But we can better matters, and we are daily bettering them, by our work with children. If a child has once learned to love books and to associate them powerfully with something else than a burdensome task, then the labors of the unskillful teachers will create no dislike of the book but only of the teacher and his methods; while those of the good teacher will be a thousand times more fruitful than otherwise. So much for the ways in which interesting books are sometimes made uninteresting. Now for the books that are uninteresting _per se_--and how many there are! When a man has something to distribute commercially for personal gain, the thing that he tries above all to do is to interest his public--to make them want what he has to sell. His success or failure in doing this, means the success or failure of his whole enterprise. He does not decide what kind of an entertainment his clients ought to attend and then try to make them go to it, or what kind of neckties they ought to wear and then try to make them wear them. Of ten promoters, if nine proceeded on this principle and one on the plan of offering something attractive and interesting, who would succeed? It is one of the marvels of all time that this never seems to have occurred to writers of books. We are almost forced to conclude that they do not care whether their volumes are read or not. In only one class of books, as a rule, do the writers endeavor to interest the reader first and foremost; you all know that I refer to fiction. What is the result? The writers of fiction are the ones read by the public. More fiction is read, as you very well know, than all the other classes of literature put together. The library that is able to show a fiction percentage of 60, points to it with pride, while there are plenty with percentages between 70 and 80. Now this is all to the credit of the fiction writers. I refuse to believe that their readers are any more fundamentally interested in the subjects of which they treat than in others. They simply follow the line of least resistance. They want something interesting to read and they know from experience where to go for it. Of course this brings on abuses. Writers use illegitimate methods to arouse interest--appeals perhaps, to unworthy instincts. We need not discuss that here, but simply focus our attention on the fact that writers of fiction always try to be interesting because they must; while writers of history, travel, biography and philosophy do not usually try, because they think it unnecessary. This is simply a survival. It used to be true that readers of these subjects read them because of their great antecedent interest in them--an interest so great that interesting methods of presentation became unnecessary. No one cared about the masses, still less about what they might or might not read. Things are changed now; we are trying to advertise stored ideas to persons unfamiliar with them and we are suddenly awakening to the fact that our stock is not all that it should be. We need history, science and travel fascinatingly presented--at least as interestingly as the fiction-writer presents his subjects. This is by no means impossible, because it has been done, in a few instances. We are by no means in the position of the Irishman who didn't know whether or not he could play the piano, because he had never tried. Some of our authors have tried--and succeeded. No one after William James can say that philosophy cannot be made interesting to the ordinary reader. Tyndall showed us long ago that physics could interest the unlearned, and there are similarly interesting writers on history and travel--more perhaps in these two classes than any other. But it remains true that the vast majority of non-fiction books do not attract, and were not written with the aim of attracting, the ordinary reader such as the libraries are now trying to reach. The result is that the fiction writers are usurping the functions of these uninteresting scribes and are putting history, science, economics, biology, medicine--all sorts of subjects, into fictional form--a sufficient answer to any who may think that the subjects themselves, as distinguished from the manner in which they are presented, are calculated to repel the ordinary reader. Fiction is thus becoming, if it has not already become, the sole form of literary expression, so far as the ordinary reader is concerned. This is interesting; it justifies the large stock of fiction in public libraries and the large circulation of that stock. It does not follow that it is commendable or desirable. For one thing it places truth and falsehood precisely on the same plane. The science or the economics in a good novel may be bad and that in a poor novel may be good. Then again, it dilutes the interesting matter with triviality. It is right that those who want to know how and when and under what circumstances Edwin and Angelina concluded to get married should have an opportunity of doing so, but it is obviously unfair that the man who likes the political discussions put into the mouth of Edwin's uncle, or the clever descriptions of country-life incident to the courtship, should be burdened with information of this sort, in which he has little interest. To those who are interested in the increase of non-fiction percentages I would therefore say: devise some means of working upon the authors. These gentry are yet ignorant of the existence of a special library public. Some day they will wake up, and then fiction will be relieved from the burden that oppresses it at present--of carrying most of the interesting philosophy, religion, history and social science, in addition to doing its own proper work. Meanwhile the librarian, who is interested in advertising ideas, must do what he can with his material. There is still a saving remnant of interesting non-fiction, and there is a goodly body of readers whose antecedent interest in certain subjects is great enough to attract them to almost any book on those subjects. I have purposely avoided the discussion here of the details of library publicity, which has been well done elsewhere; but I cannot refrain from expressing my opinion that the ordinary work of the library and its stock of books if properly displayed, are more effective than any other means that can be used for the purpose. From a series of articles entitled "How to Start Libraries in Small Towns" by A.M. Pendleton, I quote the following, which appears in The Library Journal for May 13, 1877: "Plant it [the library] among the people, where its presence will be seen and felt,... Other things being equal, it is better to have it upon the first floor, so that passers-by will see its goodly array of books and be tempted to inspect them." Excellent advice; we might take it if we had not built our libraries as far away from the street as possible and lifted them up on as high a pedestal as our money would buy. Who, passing by a modern library building, branch or central, can by any possibility see through the windows enough of the interior to tell whether it is a library rather than a postoffice, a bank, or an office? Before moving into its new home the St. Louis Public Library occupied temporarily a business building having a row of six large plate-glass windows on one side, directly on the sidewalk, enabling passers-by to see clearly all that went on in the adult lending-delivery room. The effect on the circulation was noteworthy. During the last months of our occupancy we went further and utilized each of the windows for a book display. This was in charge of a special committee of the staff, and its results were beyond expectation. In one window we had a shelfful of current books, open to attractive pictures, with a sign reminding wayfarers that they might be taken out by cardholders and that cards were free. In another we had standard works, without pictures, but open at attractive pages. In another we had children's books; in another, open reference or art books in a dust-proof case--and so on. Each of these windows was seldom without its contingent of gazers, and the direct effect on library circulation was noticed by all. At the end of the year we moved into our great million-and-a-half-dollar building; and beautiful as it is--satisfactory as are its arrangements--we have had--alas--to give up our show windows. We can, it is true, have show cases in the great entrance hall, but we want to attract outsiders, not insiders. Some of our enthusiastic staff want to build permanent show cases on the sidewalk. What we may possibly do is to rent real show windows opposite. What we do not desire, is to abandon our publicity plan altogether. But when, oh when, shall we have libraries (branches at any rate, if our main buildings must be monumental) that will throw themselves open to the public eye, luring in the wayfarer to the joys of reading, as the commercial window does to the delights of gumdrops or neckties? One of the greatest steps ever taken toward the advertisement of ideas was the adoption, on a large scale, of the open shelf. This throws the books of a library, or many of them, open to public inspection and handling; it encourages "browsing"--the somewhat aimless rambling about and dipping here and there into a volume. If we are to present ideas to our would-be readers in great variety, hoping that among them there may be toothsome bait, surely there could be no better way than this. The only trouble is that it appeals only to those who are already sufficiently interested in stored ideas to enter the library. We must remember, however, that by our method of sending out books for home use we are making a great open-shelf of the whole city. While the number of volumes in any one place may be small, the books are constantly changing so that the non-reader has a good chance of seeing in his friend's house something that may attract him. That this may affect the use of the library it is essential that he who sees a library book on the table or in the hands of a fellow passenger on a car must be able to recognize its source at once, so that, if attracted, he may be led thither by the suggestion. Nothing is better for this purpose than the library seal, placed on the book where all may see it; and that all may recognize it, it should also be used wherever possible, in connection with the library--on letter heads, posters, lists, pockets and cards, so that the public association between its display and the work of the library shall become strong. This making the whole outstanding supply of circulating books an agency in our publicity scheme for ideas is evidently more effective as the books better fit and satisfy their users; for in that case we have an unpaid agent with each book. The adaptation of book to user helps our advertisement of ideas, and that in turn aids us in adapting book to user. When a dynamo starts, the newly arisen current makes the field stronger and that in turn increases the current. Only here we must have just a little residual magnetism in the field magnet to start the whole process. In the library's work the residual magnetism is represented by the latent interest in ideas that is present in every community. And I can do no better, in closing, than to emphasize the fact that everything that advertises ideas, even if totally unconnected with their recorded form in books, helps the library and pushes forward its work. Itself a product of the great extension of intellectual activity to classes in which it was formerly bounded by narrow limits, the library is bound to widen those limits wherever they can be stretched, and every movement of them reacts to help it. Surely advertisement on its part is an evangel--a bearing of good intellectual tidings into the darkness. We are spiritualistic mediums in the best sense--the bearers of authentic messages from all the good and great of past or present time; only with us, no turning on of the light, no publicity however glaring, will break the spell or do otherwise than aid, for whether we succeed or fail, whether we live or die, those messages, recorded as they are in books, will stand while humanity remains. THE PUBLIC LIBRARY, THE PUBLIC SCHOOL, AND THE SOCIAL CENTER MOVEMENT[7] [7] Read before the National Education Association. The center of a geometrical figure is important, not for its size and content, but for its position--not for what it is in itself, but for its relations to the other elements of the figure. And words used with derived meanings are used best when their original significations are kept in mind. The business center of a city does not contain all of that city's commercial activity; when we speak of the church as a religious center, we do not mean that there is to be no religious activity in the home or in other walks of life; as for the center of population of a large and populous country, it may be out in the prairie where neither man nor his dwellings are to be seen. All these centers are what they are because of certain relationships. It is so with a social center. But social relationships cover a wide field. The relationships of business, of religion, even of mere co-existence, are all social. May we have a center for so wide a range of activities? Even the narrower relations of business or of religion tend to form subsidiary groups and to multiply subsidiary centers. In a large city we may have not only a general business center but centers of the real estate business, of the hardware or textile trades, and so on. Our religious affiliations condense into denominational centers. In the district of a large city where newly arrived foreign immigrants gather, you will be shown the group of blocks where the Poles or the Hungarians have segregated themselves from the rest, and even within these, the houses where dwell families from a particular province or even from one definite city or village. Man is social but he is socially clannish, and the broadest is not so much he who refuses to recognize these clan or caste relationships as he who enters into the largest number of them--he who keeps in touch with his childhood home, has a wide acquaintance among those of his own religious faith and of his chosen business or profession, keeps up his old college friendships, is interested in collecting coins or paintings and knows all the other collectors, is active in civic and charitable societies, takes an interest in education and educators, and so on. The social democracy that should succeed in abolishing all these groups or leveling them--that should recognize no relationships but the broader ones that underly all human effort and feeling--the touches of nature that make the whole world kin--would be barren indeed. We cannot spare these fundamentals; we could not get rid of them if we would; but civilization advances by building upon them, and to do away with these additions would be like destroying a city to get at its foundation, in the vain hope of securing some wide-reaching result in economics or aesthetics. Occupying a foremost place among these groupings is the large division embracing our educational activities. And these are social not only in the broad sense, but also in the narrower. The intercourse of student with student in the school and even of reader with reader in the library, especially in such departments as the children's room, is so obviously that of society that we need dwell on it no further. This intercourse, while a necessary incident of education in the mass, is only an incident. It is sufficiently obtrusive, however, to make it evident that any use of school or library building for social purposes is fit and proper. There is absolutely nothing new nor strange about such use. In places that cannot afford separate buildings for these purposes, the same edifice has often served for church, schoolhouse, public library, and as assembly room for political meetings, amateur theatricals, and juvenile debating societies. The propriety of all this has never been questioned and it is difficult to see why it should not be as proper in a town of 500,000 inhabitants as in one of 500. The incidence of the cost is a matter of detail. Why should such purely social use of these educational buildings--always common in small towns--have been allowed to fall into abeyance in the larger ones? It is hard to say; but with the recent great improvements in construction, the building of schools and libraries that are models of beauty, comfort, and convenience, there has arisen a not unnatural feeling in the public that all this public property should be put to fuller use. Why should children be forced to dance on the street or in some place of sordid association when comfortable and convenient halls in library or school are closed and unoccupied? Why should the local debating club, the mothers' meeting--nay, why should the political ward meeting be barred out? Side by side with this trend of public opinion there has been an awakening realization on the part of many connected with these institutions that they themselves might benefit by such extended use. Probably this realization has come earlier and more fully to the library, because its educational function is directed so much more upon adults. The library is coming to be our great continuation school--an institution of learning with an infinity of purely optional courses. It may open its doors to any form of adult social activity. There are forms of activity proper to a social center that require special apparatus or equipment. These may be furnished in a building erected for the purpose, as are the Chicago fieldhouses. Here we have swimming-pools, gymnasiums for men and for women, and all the rest of it. A branch library is included and some would house the school also under the same roof. We may have to wait long for the general adoption of such a composite social center. Our immediate problem is to supply an immediate need by using means directly at our disposal. And it is remarkable how many kinds of neighborhood activity may take place in a room unprovided with any special equipment. A brief glance over our own records for only a few months past enables me to classify them roughly as athletic or outdoor, purely social, educational, debating, political, labor, musical, religious, charitable or civic, and expository, besides many that defy or elude classification. The athletic or outdoor organizations include the various turning or gymnastic clubs and the Boy and Girl Scouts; the social organizations embrace dancing-classes, "welfare" associations, alumni and graduate clubs of schools and colleges, and dramatic clubs; the educational, which are very numerous, reading circles, literary clubs galore, free classes in chemistry, French, psychology, philosophy, etc., and all such organizations as the Jewish Culture Club, the Young People's Ethical Society, the Longan Parliamentary Class, and the Industrial and Business Women's Educational leagues. Religious bodies are parish meetings, committees of mission boards, and such organizations as the Theosophical Society; charitable or civic activities include the National Conference of Day Nurseries, the Central Council of Civic Agencies, the W.C.T.U., playground rehearsals for the Child Welfare Exhibit, and the Business Men's Association; and the Advertising Men's League; musical organizations embrace St. Paul's Musical Assembly, the Tuesday Choral Club, etc. Among exhibitions are local affairs such as wild flower shows, an exhibit of bird-houses, collections from the Educational Museum, the Civil League's Municipal Exhibit, selected screens from the Child Welfare Exhibit, and the prize-winners from the St. Louis Art Exhibit held in the art room of our central library. Then we have the Queen Hedwig Branch, the Clay School Picnic Association, the Aero Club, the Lithuanian Club, the Philotechne Club, the Fathers' Club, and the United Spanish War Veterans. I trust you will not call upon me to explain the objects of some of these, as such a demand might cause me embarrassment--not because their aims are unworthy, but because these are skilfully obscured by their names. If anyone believes that there is a limit to the capacity of the human race for forming groups and subgroups on a moment's notice, for any reason or for no reason at all, I would refer him to our assembly room and clubroom records; and he would find, I think, that these are typical of every large library offering the use of such rooms somewhat freely. It will be noted that the library takes no part in organizing or operating any of these activities; it does not have to do so. The successful leader is he who repairs to a hill and raises his standard, knowing that at sight of it followers will flock around him. When you drop a tiny crystal into a solution, the atoms all rush to it naturally: there is no effort or compulsion except that of the aptitudes that their Creator has implanted in them. So it is with all centers, business or religious or social. No one instituted a campaign to locate the business center of a city at precisely such a square or corner. Things aggregate, and the point to which they tend is their center; they make it, it does not make them. The leader on a hill is a leader because he has followers; without them he would be but a lone warrior. The school or the library that says proudly to itself, "Go to; I will be a social center," may find itself in the same lonely position. It can offer an opportunity: that is all. It can offer houseroom to clubs, organizations, and groups of all kinds, whether permanent or temporary, large or small, but its usefulness as a social center depends largely on the existence of these and on their desire for a meeting place. We have in St. Louis six branch libraries with assembly rooms and clubrooms--in all a dozen or so. I have before me the calendar for a single week and I find 55 engagements, running from 24 at one branch down thru 13, 8, 6, and 3 to one. If I had before me only the largest number I should conclude that branch libraries as social centers were a howling success; if only the smallest, I should say that they were dismal failures. Why the difference? For the same reason that the leader who displays his standard may or may not be surrounded with eager "flocking" followers. There may be no one within earshot, or they may have no stomach for the war, or they may not be interested in the cause that he represents. Or again, he may not shout loud or persuasively enough, or his standard may not be attractive enough in form or color, or mounted on a sufficiently high staff. I have said that all we can offer is opportunity; to change our figure, we can furnish the drinking-fountain--thirst must bring the horse to it. But we must not forget that we offer our opportunity in vain unless we are sure that everyone who might grasp it realizes our offer and what it means. Here is the chance for personal endeavor. If the young people in a neighborhood continue to hold their social meetings over a saloon when the branch library or the school is perfectly willing to offer its assembly room, it is pretty certain that they do not understand that offer, or that they mistrust its sincerity, or that there is something wrong that might be remedied by personal effort. In the one of our branches that is most used by organizations there is this personal touch. But I should hesitate to say that the others do not have it too. There are plenty of organizations near this busiest library and there are no other good places for them to meet. In the neighborhood of some other branches there are other meeting-places, and elsewhere, perhaps, the social instinct is not so strong, or at any rate the effort to organize is lacking. Should the librarian step out and attempt to stimulate this social instinct and to guide this organizing effort? There is room for difference of opinion here. Personally I think that he should not do it directly and officially as a librarian. He may do it quietly and unobtrusively like any other private citizen, but he needs all his efforts, all his influence, to bring the book and the reader together in his community. Sometimes by doing this he can be doing the other too, and he can always do it vicariously. He should bear in mind that the successful man is not he who does everything himself, but he who can induce others to do things--to do them in his way and to direct them toward his ends. Even in the most sluggish, the most indifferent community there are these potential workers with enthusiasms that need only to be awakened to be let loose for good. The magic key is often in the librarian's girdle, and his free offer of house room and sympathy, with good literature thrown in, will always be of powerful assistance in this kind of effort. He will seldom need to do more than to make clear the existence and the nature of the opportunity that he offers. I know that there are some librarians and many more teachers who hesitate to open their doors in any such way as this; who are afraid that the opportunities offered will be misused or that the activities so sheltered will be misjudged by the public. It has shocked some persons that a young people's dancing-class has been held, under irreproachable auspices, in one of our branch libraries; others have been grieved to see that political ward meetings have taken place in them, and that some rather radical political theories have been debated there. These persons forget that a library never takes sides. It places on its shelves books on the Civil War from the standpoint of both North and South, histories of the great religious controversies by both Catholics and Protestants, ideas and theories in science and philosophy from all sides and at all angles. It may give room at one time to a young people's dancing-class and at another to a meeting of persons who condemn dancing. Its walls may echo one day to the praises of our tariff system and on another to fierce denunciations of it. These things are all legitimate and it is better that they should take place in a library or a school building than in a saloon or even in a grocery store. The influence of environment is gently pervasive. I may be wrong, but I cannot help thinking that it is easier to be a gentleman in a library, whether in social meeting or in political debate, than it is in some other places. In one of our branches there meets a club of men who would be termed anarchists by some people. The branch librarian assures me that the brand of anarchism that they profess has grown perceptibly milder since they have met in the library. It is getting to be literary, academic, philosophic. Nourished in a saloon, with a little injudicious repression, it might perhaps have borne fruit of bombs and dynamite. In this catholicity I cannot help thinking that the library as an educational institution is a step ahead of the school. Most teachers would resent the imputation of partisanship on the part of the school, and yet it is surely partisan--in some ways rightly and inevitably so. One cannot well explain both sides of any question to a child of six and leave its decision to his judgment. This is obvious; and yet I cannot help thinking that there is one-sided teaching of children who are at least old enough to know that there is another side, and that the one-sided teaching of two-sided subjects might be postponed in some cases until two-sided information would be possible and proper. Where a child is taught one side and finds out later that there is another, his resentment is apt to be bitter; it spoils the educational effect of much that he was taught and injures the influence of the institution that taught him. My resentment is still strong against the teaching that hid from me the southern viewpoint concerning slavery and secession, the Catholic viewpoint of what we Protestants call the Reformation--dozens of things omitted from textbooks on dozens of subjects because they did not happen to meet the approval of the textbook compiler. I am no less an opponent of slavery--I am no less a Protestant--because I know the other side, but I think I am a better man for knowing it, and I think it a thousand pities that there are thousands of our fellow citizens, on all sides of all possible lines, from whom our educative processes have hid even the fact that there is another side. This question, as I have said, does not affect the library, and fortunately need not affect it. And as we are necessarily two-sided in our book material so we can open our doors to free social or neighborhood use without bothering our heads about whether the users are Catholics, Protestants, or Jews; Democrats, Republicans, or Socialists; Christian Scientists or suffragists. The library hands our suffrage and anti-suffrage literature to its users with the same smile, and if it hands the anti-suffrage books to the suffragist, and vice versa, both sides are certainly the better for it. I have tried to make it clear in what I have said that in this matter of social activity, public institutions should go as far as they can in furnishing facilities without taking upon themselves the burden of administration. I believe fully in municipal ownership of all kinds of utilities, but rarely in municipal operation. Municipal ownership safeguards the city, and private or corporate operation avoids the numerous objections to close municipal control of detail. So the library authorities may retain sufficient control of these social activities by the power that they have of admitting them to the parts of the buildings provided for them, or of excluding them at any time. These activities themselves are better managed by voluntary bodies, and, as I have said, there is no indication that the formation of such bodies is on the wane. The establishment and operation of a musical or athletic club, a debating society, or a Boy Scouts company, are surely quite as educational as the activities themselves in which their members engage. Do not let us arrogate to ourselves such opportunities as these. I should be inclined to take this attitude also with regard to the public playgrounds, were they not somewhat without the province of this paper; and I take it very strongly with regard to the public school. Throw open the school buildings as soon as you can, and as freely as you can to every legitimate form of social activity, but let your relationship to this activity be like that of the center to the circle--in it and of it, but embracing no part of its areal content. So, I am convinced, will it be best for all of us--for ourselves, the administrators of public property, and for the public, the owning body which is now demanding that it should not be barred out by its servants from that property's freest and fullest use. THE SYSTEMATIZATION OF VIOLENCE The peace propaganda has suffered much from the popular impression that many of those engaged in it are impractical enthusiasts who are assuming the possibility of doing away with passions and prejudices incident to our very humanity, and of bringing about an ideal reign of love and good will. Whether this impression is or is not justified we need not now inquire. It is the impression itself that is injuring the cause of peace, and will continue to injure it until it is removed. It may at least be lessened by allowing the mind to dwell for a time on another aspect of the subject in which the regime of peace that would follow the discontinuance of all settlement of disputes by violence will appear to consist not so much in the total disappearance of violence from the earth as in the use of it for a different purpose, namely, the preservation of the peaceful status quo, by a systematic and lawful use of force, or at any rate, the readiness to employ it. A state of peace, whether between individuals or nations, whether without or within a regime of law, always partakes of the nature of an armed truce: under one regime, however, the arms are borne by the possible contestants themselves; under the other, by the community whose members they are. If there is a resort to arms, violence ensues under both regimes; in both cases it tends ultimately to restore peace, but the action is more certain and more systematic when the violence is exerted by the community. These laws may apply indifferently to a community of individuals or to one of nations. The most cogent and the most valid argument at the disposal of the peace advocate is the fact that we no longer allow the individual to take the law into his own hand, and that logically we should equally prohibit the nation from doing so. This is unanswerable, but its force has been greatly weakened by the assumption, which it requires no great astuteness to find unwarranted, that the settlement of individual quarrels by individual force has resulted from--or at least resulted in--the discontinuance of violence altogether, or in the dawn of a general era of good-will, man to man. On the contrary, it is very doubtful whether there is less violence to-day than there would be if the operation of law were suspended altogether; the difference, is that the violence has shifted its incidence and altered its aim--it is civic and social and no longer individual. If we are to introduce the regime of law among nations as among individuals, our first step must be similarly to shift the incidence of violence. In so doing we may not decrease it, we may, indeed, increase it--but we shall none the less be taking that step in the only possible direction to achieve our purpose. Among individuals, custom, crystallizing into law, generally precedes the enforcement of that law by the community. Hence, a somewhat elaborate code may exist side by side with the settlement of disputes, under that code, by personal combat. We have among nations such a code, and we yet admit the settlement of disputes by war, because the incidence of violence has not yet completely shifted. We have established a tribunal to act, in certain cases, on behalf of the community of nations, but we have not yet given that tribunal complete jurisdiction and we have given it no power whatever to enforce its decrees. It is on this latter point that I desire to dwell. In a community of individuals, there are two ways of using violence to enforce law--by the professional police force and by the posse of citizens. The former is more effective, but the latter is often readier and more certain in particular instances, especially in primitive communities. To give it force we must have readiness on the part of every citizen to respond to a call from the proper officer, and ability to do effective service, especially by the possession of arms and skill in their use. These requisites are not generally found in more advanced communities. In like manner, the decrees of an international tribunal might be enforced either by the creation of an international army or by calling upon as many of the nations as necessary to aid in coercing the non-law-abiding member of the international community. Each nation is already armed and ready. Whatever may be thought of the ultimate possibility of an international army, it must be evident that the principle of the posse must serve us at the outset. An international army would always consist in part of members of the nation to be coerced, whereas, in selecting a posse those furthest in race and in sympathy from the offender might always be chosen, just as members of a hostile clan would make up the best posse to arrest a Highlander for sheep-stealing. Moreover, the posse has been used internationally more than once, as when decrees have been pronounced by a general European Congress and some particular nation or nations have been charged with their execution. When a frontier community that has been a law unto itself gets its first sheriff, the earliest visible result is not impossibly a sudden increase, instead of a decrease, of violence. There is a war of the community, represented by the sheriff and the good citizens, against all the bad ones. Even so it may be expected that among the first results of an effective agreement to enforce the decrees of an international tribunal, would be an exceptionally great and violent war. Sooner or later some nation would be sure to take issue with an unpopular decree and refuse to obey it. This would probably be one of the larger and more powerful nations, for a weaker power would not proceed to such lengths in protest. Not improbably other nations might join the protesting power. The result would be a war; it might even be the world war that we have been fearing for a generation. It might conceivably be the greatest and the bloodiest war that the world has yet seen. Yet it would be far the most glorious war of history, for it would be a struggle on behalf of law and order in the community of nations--a fight to uphold that authority by whose exercise alone may peace be assured to the world. The man who shudders at the prospect of such a war, who wants peace, but is unwilling to fight for it, should cease his efforts on behalf of a universal agreement among nations, for there is no general agreement without power to quell dissension. This is not the place to discuss the details of an international agreement to enforce the decrees of an international tribunal. It may merely be said that if the most powerful and intelligent communities of men that have ever existed cannot devise machinery to do what puny individuals have long been successfully accomplishing, they had better disband and coalesce in universal anarchy. My object here is neither to propose plans nor to discuss details, but merely to point out that not the abandonment, but the systematization of violence is the goal of a rational peace propaganda, and that when this is once acknowledged and universally realized, an important step will have been taken toward winning over a class of persons who now oppose a world-peace as impractical and impossible. These persons disapprove of disarmament: and from the point of view here advocated, a general disarmament would be the last thing to be desired. The possible member of a posse must bear arms to be effective. Armaments may have to be limited and controlled by international decree, but to disarm a nation would be as criminal and foolish as it would be to take away all weapons from the law-abiding citizens of a mining town as a preliminary to calling upon them to assist in the arrest of a notorious band of outlaws. Again: a common objection to the peace propaganda is that without war we shall have none of the heroic virtues that war calls into being. This objection fails utterly when we consider that what we shall get under a proper international agreement is not the abolition of war, but simply an assurance that when there is a war it will be one in which every good citizen can take at once the part of international law and order--a contest between the law and the law-breaker, and not one in which both contestants are equally lawless. Thus the profession of arms will still be an honorable one--it will, in fact, be much more honorable than it is to-day, when it may at any moment be prostituted to the service of greed or commercialism. THE ART OF RE-READING "I have nothing to read," said a man to me once. "But your house seems to be filled with books." "O, yes; but I've read them already." What should we think of a man who should complain that he had no friends, when his house was thronged daily with guests, simply because he had seen and talked with them all once before? Such a man has either chosen badly, or he is himself at fault. "Hold fast that which is good" says the Scripture. Do not taste it once and throw it away. To get at the root of this matter we must go farther back than literature and inquire what it has in common with all other forms of art to compel our love and admiration. Now, a work of art differs from any other result of human endeavor in this--that its effect depends chiefly on the way in which it is made and only secondarily upon what it is or what it represents. Were this not true, all statues of Apollo or Venus would have the same art-value; and you or I, if we could find a tree and a hill that Corot had painted, would be able to produce a picture as charming to the beholder as his. The way in which a thing is done is, of course, always important, but its importance outside of the sphere of art differs from that within. The way in which a machine is constructed makes it good or bad, but the thing that is aimed at here is the useful working of the machine, toward which all the skill of the maker is directed. What the artist aims at is not so much to produce a likeness of a god or a picture of a tree, as to produce certain effects in the person who looks at his complete work; and this he does by the way in which he performs it. The fact that a painting represents certain trees and hills is here only secondary; the primary fact is what the artist has succeeded in making the on-looker feel. While Sorolla is painting a group of children on the beach, I may take a kodak picture of the same group. My photograph may be a better likeness than Sorolla's picture, but it has no art-value. Why? Because it was made mechanically, whereas Sorolla put into his picture something of himself, making it a unique thing, incapable of imitation or of reproduction. The man who has a message, one of those pervasive, compelling messages that are worth while, naturally turns to art. He chooses his subject not as an end, but as a vehicle, and he makes it speak his message by his method of treatment, conveying it to his public more or less successfully in the measure of his skill. We have been speaking of the representative arts of painting and sculpture, but the same is true of art in any form. In music, not a representative art, in spite of the somewhat grotesque claims of so-called program music, the method of the composer is everything, or at least his subject is so vague and immaterial that no one would think of exalting it as an end in itself. There is, however, an art in which the subject stands forth so prominently that even those who love the art itself are continually in danger of forgetting the subject's secondary character. I mean the art of literature. Among the works of written speech the boundaries of art are much more ill-defined than they are elsewhere. There is, to be sure, as much difference between Shelley's "Ode to a Skylark" and Todhunter's "Trigonometry" as there is between the Venus de Milo and a battleship; and I conceive that the difference is also of precisely the same kind, being that by which, as we have seen above, we may always discriminate between a work of art and one of utility. But where art-value and utility are closely combined, as they are most frequently in literature, it is, I believe, more difficult to divide them mentally and to dwell on their separate characteristics, than where the work is a concrete object. This is why we hear so many disputes about whether a given work does or does not belong to the realm of "pure literature," and it is also the reason why, as I have said, some, even among those who love literature, are not always ready to recognize its nature as an art, or mistakenly believe that in so far as its art-value is concerned, the subject portrayed is of primary importance--is an aim in itself instead of being a mere vehicle for the conveyance of an impression. Take, if you please, works which were intended by their authors as works of utility, but have survived as works of art in spite of themselves, such as Walton's "Compleat Angler" and White's "Natural History of Selborne." Will anyone maintain that the subject-matter of those books has much to do with their preservation, or with the estimation in which they are now held? Nay; we may even be so bold as to enter the field of fiction and to assert that those fictional works that have purely literary value are loved not for the story they tell, but for the way in which the author tells it and for the effect that he thereby produces on the reader. I conceive that pure literature is an art, subject to the rules that govern all art, and that its value depends primarily on the effect produced on the reader--the message conveyed--by the way in which the writer has done his work, the subject chosen being only his vehicle. Where a man who has something to say looks about for means to say it worthily, he may select a tale, a philosophical disquisition, a familiar essay, a drama or a lyric poem. He may choose badly or well, but in any case it is his message that matters. My excuse for dwelling on this matter must be that unless I have carried you with me thus far what I am about to say will have no meaning, and I had best fold my papers, make my bow, and conclude an unprofitable business. For my subject is re-reading, the repetition of a message; and the message that we would willingly hear repeated is not that of utility but of emotion. It is the word that thrills the heart, nerves the arm, and puts new life into the veins, not that which simply conveys information. The former will produce its effect again and again, custom can not stale it. The latter, once delivered, has done its work. I see two messengers approaching; one, whom I have sent to a library to ascertain the birth-date of Oliver Cromwell, tells me what it is and receives my thanks. The other tells me that one dear to my heart, long lying at death's door, is recovering. My blood courses through my veins; my nerves tingle; joy suffuses me where gloom reigned before. I cry out; I beg the bearer of good tidings to tell them again and again; I keep him by me, so that I may ask him a thousand questions, bringing out his message in a thousand variant forms. But do I turn to the other and say, "O, that blessed date! was Cromwell truly born thereon? Let me, I pray, hear you recite it again and again!" I trow, not. The message that we desire to hear again is the one that produces its effect again and again; and that is the message of feeling, the message of art--not that of mere utility. This is so true that I conceive we may use it as a test of art-value. The great works of literature do not lose their effect on a single reading. One makes response to them the hundredth time as he did the first. Their appeal is so compelling that there is no denying it--no resisting it. There are snatches of poetry--and of prose, too--that we have by heart; that we murmur to ourselves again and again, sure that the response which never failed will come again, thrilling the whole organism with its pathos, uplifting us with the nobility of its appeal, warming us with its humor. There is a little sequence of homely verse that never fails to bring the tears to my eyes. I have tested myself with it under the most unfavorable circumstances. In the midst of business, amid social jollity, in the mental dullness of fatigue, I have stopped and repeated to myself those three verses. So quickly acts the magic of the author's skill that the earlier verses grip the fibers of my mind and twist them in such fashion that I feel the pathos of the last lines just as I felt them for the first time, years ago. You might all tell similar stories. I believe that this is a characteristic of good literature, and that all of it will bear reading, and re-reading, and reading again. But I hear someone say, "Do you mean to tell me that those three little verses that bring the tears to your eyes, will bring them also to mine and my neighbor's? I might listen to them appreciatively but dry-eyed; my neighbor might not care for them enough to re-read them once. All about us we see this personal equation in the appreciation of literature. Unless you are prepared, then, to maintain that literature may be good for one and bad for another, your contention will scarcely hold water." Even so, brother. The messenger who told me of the safety of my dear one did not thrill your heart as he did mine. She was dear to me, not to you, and the infinitely delicate yet powerful chain of conditions and relations that operated between the messenger's voice and my emotional nature did not connect him with yours. Assuredly, the message that reaches one man may not reach another. It may even reach a man in his youth and fall short in manhood, or vice versa. It may be good for him and inoperative on all the rest of the world. We estimate literature, it is true, by the universality of its appeal or by the character of the persons whom alone that appeal reaches. The message of literature as art may thus be to the crowd or to a select few. I could even imagine intellect and feeling of such exquisite fineness, such acknowledged superiority, that appeal to it alone might be enough to fix the status of a work of art, though it might leave all others cold. Still, in general I believe, that the greatest literature appeals to the greatest number and to the largest number of types. I believe that there are very few persons to whom Shakespeare, properly presented, will not appeal. In him, nevertheless, the learned and those of taste also delight. There are authors like Walter Pater who are a joy to the few but do not please the many. There are others galore, whom perhaps it would be invidious to name, who inspire joy in the multitude but only distaste in the more discriminating. We place Pater above these, just as we should always put quality above quantity; but I place Shakespeare vastly higher, because his appeal is to the few and the many at once. But we must, I think, acknowledge that an author whose value may not appeal to others may be great to one reader; that his influence on that reader may be as strong for good as if it were universal instead of unique. We may not place such a writer in the Walhalla, but I beseech you, do not let us tear him rudely from the one or two to whom he is good and great. Do not lop off the clinging arms at the elbow, but rather skilfully present some other object of adoration to the intent that they may voluntarily untwine and enfold this new object more worthily. The man who desires to own books but who can afford only a small and select library can not do better than to make his selection on this basis--to get together a collection of well-loved books any one of which would give him pleasure in re-reading. Why should a man harbor in his house a book that he has read once and never cares to read again? Why should he own one that he will never care to read at all? We are not considering the books of the great collectors, coveted for their rarity or their early dates, for their previous ownership or the beauty of their binding--for any reason except the one that makes them books rather than curiosities. These collections are not libraries in the intellectual or the literary sense. Three well thumbed volumes in the attic of one who loves them are a better library for him than those on which Pierpont Morgan spent his millions. This advice, it will be noted, implies that the man has an opportunity to read the book before he decides whether to buy it or not. Here is where the Public Library comes in. Some regard the Public Library as an institution to obviate all necessity of owning books. It should rather be regarded from our present standpoint as an institution to enable readers to own the books that they need--to survey the field and make therefrom a proper and well-considered selection. That it has acted so in the past, none may doubt; it is the business of librarians to see that this function is emphasized in the future. The bookseller and the librarian are not rivals, but co-workers. Librarians complain of the point of view of those publishers and dealers who regard every library user as a lost customer. He is rather, they say, in many cases a customer won--a non-reader added to the reading class--a possible purchaser of books. But have not librarians shared somewhat this mistaken and intolerant attitude? How often do we urge our readers to become book-owners? How often do we give them information and aid directed toward this end? The success of the Christmas book exhibitions held in many libraries should be a lesson to us. The lists issued in connection with these almost always include prices, publishers' names, and other information intended especially for the would-be purchaser. But why should we limit our efforts to the holiday season? True, every librarian does occasionally respond to requests for advice in book-selection and book-purchase, but the library is not yet recognized as the great testing field of the would-be book owner; the librarian is not yet hailed as the community's expert adviser in the selection and purchase of books, as well as its book guardian and book distributor. That this may be and should be, I believe. It will be if the librarian wills it. Are we straying from our subject? No; for from our present standpoint a book bought is a book reread. My ideal private library is a room, be it large or small, lined with books, every one of which is the owner's familiar friend, some almost known by heart, others re-read many times, others still waiting to be re-read. But how about the man whose first selection for this intimate personal group would be a complete set of the works of George Ade? Well, if that is his taste, let his library reflect it. Let a man be himself. That there is virtue in merely surrounding oneself with the great masters of literature all unread and unloved, I can not see. Better acknowledge your poor taste than be a hypocrite. The librarian can not force the classics down the unwilling throats of those who do not care for them and are perhaps unfitted to appreciate them. There has been entirely too much of this already and it has resulted disastrously. Surely, a sane via media is possible, and we may agree that a man will never like Eschylus, without assuring him that Eschylus is an out-of-date old fogy, while on the other hand we may acknowledge the greatness of Homer and Milton without trying to force them upon unwilling and incompetent readers. After all it is not so much a question of Milton versus George Ade, as it is of sanity and wholesomeness against vulgarity and morbidity. And if I were to walk through one city and behold collections of this latter sort predominating and then through another, where my eyes were gladdened with evidences of good taste, of love for humor that is wholesome, sentiment that is sane, verse that is tuneful and noble, I should at once call on the public librarian and I should say to him, "Thou art the man!" The literary taste of your community is a reflection of your own as shown forth in your own institution--its collection of books, the assistants with which you have surrounded yourself, your attitude and theirs through you toward literature and toward the public. But, someone asks, suppose that I am so fortunate and so happy as to sit in the midst of such a group of friendly authors; how and how often shall I re-read? Shall I traverse the group every year? He who speaks thus is playing a part; he is not the real thing. Does the young lover ask how and how often he shall go to see his sweetheart? Try to see whether you can keep him away! The book-lover reopens his favorite volume whenever he feels like it. Among the works on his shelves are books for every mood, every shade of varying temper and humor. He chooses for the moment the friend that best corresponds to it, or it may be, the one that may best woo him away from it. It may be that he will select none of them, but occupy himself with a pile of newcomers, some of whom may be candidates for admission to the inner group. The whole thing--the composition of his library, his attitude toward it, the books that he re-reads oftenest, the favorite passages that he loves, that he scans fondly with his eye while yet he can repeat them by heart, his standards of admission to his inner circle--all is peculiarly and personally his own. There is no other precisely like it, just as there is no other human being precisely like its owner. There is as much difference between this kind of a library and some that we have seen as there is between a live, breathing creature with a mind and emotions and aspirations, and a wax figure in the Eden Musee. Thus every book lover re-reads his favorites in a way of his own, just as every individual human being loves or hates or mourns or rejoices in a way of his own. One can no more describe these idiosyncrasies than he can write a history of all the individuals in the world, but perhaps, in the manner of the ethnological or zoological classifier, it may interest us to glance at the types of a few genera or species. And first, please note that re-reading is the exact repetition of a dual mental experience, so far at least as one of the minds is concerned. It is a replica of mind-contact, under conditions obtainable nowhere else in this world and of such nature that some of them seem almost to partake of other-worldliness. My yesterday's interview with Smith or Jones, trivial as it is, I can not repeat. Smith can not remember what he said, and even if he could, he could not say it to me in the same way and to the same purpose. But my interview with Plato--with Shakespeare, with Emerson; my talk with Julius Caesar, with Goethe, with Lincoln! I can duplicate it once, twice, a hundred times. My own mind--one party to the contact--may change, but Plato's or Lincoln's is ever the same; they speak no "various language" like Byrant's nature, but are like that great Author of Nature who has taken them to Himself, in that in them "is no variableness, neither shadow of turning." To realize that these men may speak to me today, across the abyss of time, and that I can count on the same message tomorrow, next year and on my death bed, in the same authentic words, producing the same effect, assures me that somewhere, somehow, a miracle has been wrought. I have said that one of the minds that come thus into contact changes not, while the other, the reader's, is alterable. This gives him a sort of standard by which he can measure or at least estimate, the changes that go on within him, the temporary ones due to fluctuations in health, strength or temper, the progressive ones due to natural growth or to outside influences. In his "Introduction to Don Quixote," Heine tells us how that book, the first that he ever read, was his mental companion through life. In that first perusal knowing not "how much irony God had interwoven into the world," he looked upon the luckless knight as a real hero of romance and wept bitterly when his chivalry and generosity met with ingratitude and violence. A little later, when the satire dawned upon his comprehension, he could not bear the book. Still later he read it with contemptuous laughter at the poor knight. But when in later life, he lay racked on a bed of pain his attitude of sympathy returned. "Dulcinea del Toboso," he says "is still the most beautiful woman in the world; although I lie stretched upon the earth, helpless and miserable, I will never take back that assertion. I can not do otherwise. On with your lances, ye Knights of the Silver Moon; ye disguised barbers!" So every reader's viewpoint shifts with the years. Our friend who welcomes George Ade to his inner sanctuary may find as the years go on that his reaction to that contact has altered. I should not recommend that the author be then be cast into outer darkness. Once a favorite, always a favorite, for old sake's sake even if not for present power and influence. Our private libraries will hold shelf after shelf of these old-time favorites--milestones on the intellectual track over which we have wearily or joyously traveled. There will always be a warm spot in my heart and a nook on my private shelf for Oliver Optic and Horatio Alger. Though I bar them from my library (I mean my Library with a big L) I have no right to exclude them from my private collection of favorites, for once I loved them. I scarcely know why or how. If there had been in those far-off days of my boyhood, children's libraries and children's librarians, I might not have known them; as it is, they are incidents in my literary past that can not be blinked, shameful though they may be. The re-reading of such books as these is interesting because it shows us how far we have traveled since we counted them among our favorites. Then there is the book that, despite its acknowledged excellence, the reader would not perhaps admit to his inner circle if he read it now for the first time. It holds its place largely on account of the glamour with which his youth invested it. It thrills him now as it thrilled him then, but he half suspects that the thrill is largely reminiscent. I sometimes fancy that as I re-read Ivanhoe and my heart leaps to my mouth when the knights clash at Ashby, the propulsive power of that leap had its origin in the emotions of 1870 rather than those of 1914. And when some of Dickens' pathos--that death-bed of Paul Dombey for instance--brings the tears again unbidden to my eyes, I suspect, though I scarcely dare to put my suspicion into words, that the salt in those tears is of the vintage of 1875. I am reading Arnold Bennett now and loving him very dearly when he is at his best; but how I shall feel about him in 1930 or how I might feel if I could live until 2014, is another question. Then there is the book that, scarce comprehended or appreciated when it was first read, but loved for some magic of expression or turn of thought, shows new beauties at each re-reading, unfolding like an opening rose and bringing to view petals of beauty, wit, wisdom and power that were before unsuspected. This is the kind of book that one loves most to re-read, for the growth that one sees in it is after all in oneself--not in the book. The gems that you did not see when you read it first were there then as they are now. You saw them not then and you see them now, for your mental sight is stronger--you are more of a man now than you were then. Not that all the changes of the years are necessarily for the better. They may be neither for better nor for worse. As the moving train hurries us onward we may enjoy successively the beauties of canyon, prairie and lake, admiring each as we come to it without prejudice to what has gone before. In youth we love only bright colors and their contrasts--brilliant sunsets and autumn foliage; in later life we come to appreciate also the more delicate tints and their gradations--a prospect of swamp-land and distant lake or sea on a gray day; a smoky town in the fog; the tender dove colors of early dawns. So in youth we eagerly read of blood and glory and wild adventure; Trollope is insufferably dull. Jane Austen is for old maids; even such a gem as Cranford we do not rate at its true value. But in after life how their quiet shades and tints come out! There is no glory in them, no carnage, no combat; but there is charm and fascination in the very slowness of their movement, the shortness of their range, their lack of intensity, the absence of the shrill, high notes and the tremendous bases. Then there is the re-reading that accuses the reader of another kind of change--a twist to the right or the left, a cast in the mental eye, or perhaps the correction of such a cast. The doctrines in some book seemed strange to you once--almost abhorrent; you are ready to accept them now. Is it because you then saw through a glass darkly and now more clearly? Or is your vision darker now than it was? Your rereading apprizes you that there has been a change of some sort. Perhaps you must await corroborative testimony before you decide what its nature has been. Possibly you read today without a blush what your mind of twenty years ago would have been shocked to meet. Are you broader-minded or just hardened? These questions are disquieting, but the disturbance that they cause is wholesome, and I know of no way in which they can be raised in more uncompromising form than by re-reading an old favorite, by bringing the alterable fabric of your living, growing and changing mind into contact with the stiff, unyielding yardstick of an unchangeable mental record--the cast of one phase of a master mind that once was but has passed on. Here I can not help saying a word of a kind of re-reading that is not the perusal of literature at all with most of us--the re-reading of our own words, written down in previous years--old letters, old lectures, articles--books, perhaps, if we chance to be authors. Of little value, perhaps, to others, these are of the greatest interest to ourselves because instead of measuring our minds by an outside standard they enable us to set side by side two phases of our own life--the ego of 1892, perhaps, and that of 1914. How boyish that other ego was; how it jumped to conclusions; how ignorant it was and how self-confident! And yet, how fresh it was; how quickly responsive to new impressions; how unspoiled; how aspiring! If you want to know the changes that have transformed the mind that was into the very different one that now is, read your own old letters. I have tried to show you that pure literature is an art and like other arts depends primarily upon manner and only secondarily upon matter. That the artist, who in this case is the author, uses his power to influence the reader usually through his emotions or feelings and that its effects to a notable extent, are not marred by repetition. That on this account all good literature may be re-read over and over, and that the pleasure derived from such re-reading is a sign that a book is peculiarly adapted in some way to the reader. Finally, that one's private library, especially if its size be limited, may well consist of personal favorites, often re-read. When the astronomer Kepler had reduced to simple laws the complicated motions of the planets he cried out in ecstacy: "O God! now think I Thy thoughts after Thee!" Thus when a great writer of old time has been vouchsafed a spark of the divine fire we may think his divine thoughts after him by re-reading. And Shakespeare tells us in that deathless speech of Portia's, that since mercy is God's attribute we may by exercising it become like God. Thus, by the mere act of tuning our brains to think the thoughts that the Almighty has put into the minds of the good and the great, may it not be that our own thoughts may at the last come to be shaped in the same mould? "Old wine, old friends, old books," says the old adage; and of the three the last are surely the most satisfying. The old wine may turn to vinegar; old friends may forget or forsake us; but the old book is ever the same. What would the old man do without it? And to you who are young I would say--you may re-read, you first must read. Choose worthy books to love. As for those who know no book long enough either to love or despise it--who skim through good and bad alike and forget page ninety-nine while reading page 100, we may simply say to them, in the words of the witty Frenchman, "What a sad old age you are preparing for yourself!" HISTORY AND HEREDITY[8] [8] Read before the New England Society of St. Louis. In one of his earlier books, Prof. Hugo Munsterberg cites the growing love for tracing pedigrees as evidence of a dangerous American tendency toward aristocracy. There are only two little things the matter with this--the fact and the inference from it. In the first place, we Americans have always been proud of our ancestry and fond of tracing it; and in the second place, this fondness is akin, not to aristocracy but to democracy. It is not the purpose of this paper to prove this thesis in detail, so I will merely bid you note that aristocratic pedigree-tracers confine themselves to one line, or to a few lines. Burke will tell you that one of the great-great-grandfathers of the present Lord Foozlem was the First Baron; he is silent about his great-grandfather, the tinker, and his great-grandfather, the pettifogging country lawyer. Americans are far more apt to push their genealogical investigations in all directions, because they are prompted by a legitimate curiosity rather than by desire to prove a point, American genealogical research is biological, while that of Europe is commercial. An obvious advantage of interest in our ancestors is that it ought to make history a more vital thing to us; for to them, history was merely current events in which they took part, or which, at least, they watched. This linking up of our personal ancestral lines with past events is done too seldom. Societies like the New England Society are doing it, and it is for this reason that I have chosen to bring the subject briefly before you. It has been noted that our historical notions of the Civil War are now, and are going to be in the future, more just and less partisan than those of the Revolution. This is not because we are nearer the Civil War; for nearness often tends to confuse historical ideas rather than to clear them up. It is because the descendants of those who fought on both sides are here with us, citizens of our common country, intermarrying and coming into contact in a thousand ways. We are not likely to ignore the Southern standpoint regarding the rights of secession and the events of the struggle so long as the sons and daughters of Confederate soldiers live among us. Nor shall we ever forget the Northern point of view while the descendants of those who fought with Grant and Sherman are our friends and neighbors. It is otherwise with the Revolution. We are the descendants only of those who fought on one side. Of the others, part went back to their homes in England, the rest, our old neighbors and friends, we despoiled of their lands and drove across our northern border with execrations, to make new homes in a new land and view us with a hatred that has not yet passed away. If you doubt it, discuss the American Revolution for fifteen minutes with one of the United Empire Loyalists of Toronto. It will surprise you to know that your patriot ancestors were thieves, blacklegs and scoundrels. I do not believe that they were; but possibly they were not the impossible archangels of the school histories. Of one thing I am sure; that if the descendants of those who fought against us in '76 had been left to mingle with our own people, the historical recollections of the struggle would have been surer and truer on both sides than they are today. Here is a case where ancestry has perverted history, but simply because there has been an unnatural segregation of descendants. Let me note another where we have absolutely forgotten our ancestral predilections and have gone over to the other side, simply because the other side made the records. When we read a Roman account of encounters between the legions and the northern tribes, where do we place ourselves in imagination, as readers? Always with the Roman legions. But our place is not there; it is with our hardy and brave forefathers, fighting to defend their country and their firesides against the southern intruders. How many teachers of history try to utilize race-consciousness in their pupils to make them attain a clearer knowledge of what it all meant? Should we not be proud that we are of the blood of men who withstood the self-styled rulers of the world and won their freedom and their right to shape their own personal and civic development? I should like to see a book tracing the history and development of an imaginary Anglo-Saxon American line of ancestry, taking it from the forests of Northern Germany across to Britain, through the Norman conquest and down the stream of subsequent English history across seas to America--through savage wars and Revolution, perhaps across the Alleghenies, to settle finally in the great West. I would try to make the reader realize that here was no fairy tale--no tale of countries and races with which we have naught to do, but the story of our own fathers, whose features and whose characteristics, physical and mental, have been transmitted by heredity to us, their sons and daughters of the year 1913. It is unfortunate perhaps, for our perceptions of racial continuity, that we are rovers by disposition. Who runs across the sea, says the Latin poet, changes his sky but not his mind. True enough, but it is difficult for some of us to realize it. It is hard for some of us to realize that our emigrant ancestors were the same men and women when they set foot on these shores as when they left the other side some weeks before. Our trans-Atlantic cousins labor under the same difficulties, for they assure us continually that we are a "new" country. We have, they say, the faults and the advantages of "youth." It would be interesting to know at just what point in the passage the education and the habits and the prejudices of the incoming Englishman dropped off. Change of environment works wonders with habits and even with character; we must of course recognize that; but it certainly does not make of the mind a _tabula rasa_, on which the fresh surroundings may absolutely work their will. I must say that our migrations within the limits of our own continent have not been productive of so much forgetfulness. I have been struck, for instance, since I came to St. Louis, with what I may call the source-consciousness of our western population. Everyone, whether he is particularly interested in genealogy or not, knows that his people came from Vermont or Virginia or Pennsylvania. He may not be able to trace his ancestry, or even to name his great-grandfather; but with the source of that ancestry he is always acquainted. I believe this to be the case throughout the Middle West. From this point of view the population is not so well mixed as it is in the East. No one in Massachusetts or Connecticut can point out to you, offhand, the families that came from particular counties in England. And yet in England, a migration from one county to another is always recognized and remembered. A cousin of mine, visiting on an English estate, was casually informed by his host, "Our family are newcomers in this county. We moved in only about 300 years ago." From this point of view we are all newcomers in America. It is to be hoped that as the years go on, the elements of our western population will not so thoroughly lose sight of their sources as have the Easterners. It is not likely that they will, for those sources are more accessible. We have Virginia families who still keep up friendly intercourse with the old stock; Vermont families who spend each summer on the old homestead; and so on. The New Englander did not and could not keep up similar relations with Old England. Even the Southerner, who did it for a time, had to drop it. Our inter-communication with Europe has grown enormously in volume, but little of it, if any, is due to continuous ancestral interest, although a revived general interest has sprung up and is to be commended. I fear, however, that the greater part of this interest in sources, where it exists, is very far from an intelligent connection with the body of historical fact. When a man is proud of the fact that an ancestor took part in the famous Boston Tea Party, has he taken any pains to ascertain what actually took place on that occasion? If he claims descent from Pocahontas, can he tell us just how much of what we currently believe of her is fact and how much is myth? If he knows that his family came from Cheshire, England, and was established and well-known there for centuries, what does he know of the history of Cheshire and of the connection of his ancestors with it? Our interest, when it exists, is concentrated too much on trivial happenings. We know and boast that an ancestor came over in the Mayflower without knowing of the family doings before and after that event. Of course, connection with some one picturesque event serves to stimulate the imagination and focus the interest, but these events should serve as starting points for investigation rather than resting points where interest begins and ends. Historical students are beginning to realize that it is not enough to know about the battle of Hastings without understanding the causes and forces that led to it and proceeded from it, and the daily lives and thoughts of those who took part in it, from captain to spearman. This failure to link up family history with general history is responsible for many sad losses of historical material. Many persons do not understand the value of old letters and diaries; many who do, keep them closely in the family archives where they are unknown and unappreciated. Old letters containing material that bears in any way on the events, customs or life of the time, should be turned over to the local historical society. If they contain private matter, seal up the packet and require that it shall remain sealed for a century, if you wish; but do not burn it. The feeling that destroys such documents is simply evidence that we are historically valuing the individual and the family above the community, just as we still are in so many other fields of thought. I cannot tolerate the idea that we shall ultimately think only in terms of the common good; the smaller units, the man, the family must not lose their influence, but the connection between them and the general welfare must be better understood and more generally recognized; and this must be done, in the first place, in all that relates to their historical records and to our historical consciousness. Ancestral feeling should, in this way, always be historical, not individual. A man is right to be personally proud of his own achievements, but it is difficult to see how he can properly take the same kind of pride in that of others, whether related to him by blood or not. But there are other kinds of legitimate pride--family pride, racial pride, group pride of all sorts, where the feeling is not personal. If any member of a family, a profession or any association, has so conducted himself that credit is gained for the whole body, it is proper that this kind of group pride should be felt by each member of the body, and in the case of a family, where the bond is one of blood, the group feeling should be stronger and the group pride, if it is proper to feel it at all, may be of peculiar strength, provided it be carefully distinguished from the pride due to personal achievement. And when the member of the family in whom one takes pride is an ancestor, this means, as I have said, that feeling should be historical, not individual. And anything that tends to lift our interest from the individual to the historical plane--to make us cease from congratulating ourselves personally on some connection with the good and great and substitute a feeling of group pride shared in common by some body to which we all belong, is acting toward this desirable end. The body may be a family; it may be the community or the state; it may be as broad as humanity itself, for we may all be proud of the world's greatest. Or it may be a body like our own, formed to cherish the memories of forebears in some particular line of endeavor, in some particular place or at some particular era. Our ancestry is part of our history; so long as our regard for it is properly interwoven with our historical sense, no one can properly charge us with laying the foundation for aristocracy. We are rather making true democracy possible, for such is the case only when the elements of a community are closely united by ties of blood, interest and knowledge--by pride in those who have gone before and by determination that the standard set by these men and women of old shall be worthily upheld. WHAT THE FLAG STANDS FOR[9] [9] An address on Flag Day made in St. Peter's Church, St. Louis. The most important things in the world are ideas. We are so familiar with the things that are the material embodiment of ideas--buildings, roads, vehicles and machines--that we are prone to forget that without the ideas that gave them birth all these would be impossible. A house is a mass of wood, stone and metal, but all these substances, collected in a pile, do not suffice to make a house. A locomotive is made of steel and brass, but although the ancient Romans had both the metal and the alloy, they had no locomotives. The vital thing about the house--the thing that differentiates it from other masses of the same materials--is the idea--the plan--that was in the architect's mind while wood and stone and iron were still in forest, quarry and mine. The vital thing about the locomotive is the builder's idea or plan, which he derived, in turn, from the inventor. The reason why there were no locomotives in ancient Rome is that in those days the locomotive had not yet been invented, and when we say this we refer not to the materials, which the Romans had in abundance, but to the idea or plan of the locomotive. So it is with the whole material world about us. The things that result, not from man's activities, but from the operations of nature, are no exceptions; for, if we are Christians, we believe that the idea or plan of a man, or a horse, or a tree, was in the mind of the great architect, the great machinist, before the world began, and that this idea is the important thing about each. A man, a house, an engine--these are ideas that lead to things that we can feel, and see and hear. But there are other ideas that have nothing of the kind to correspond to them--I mean such ideas as charity, manliness, religion and patriotism--what sometimes are called abstract qualities. These are real things and their ideas are even more important than the others, but we cannot see nor feel them. Now, man likes to use his senses, and it is for this reason that he is fond of using for these abstract ideas, symbols that he can see and feel. We of St. Louis should appreciate this to the full just now, for we have just set before the world the greatest assemblage of symbolic images and acts, portraying our pride in the past and our hope and confidence for the future, that any city on this earth ever has been privileged to present or to witness.[10] Whether we were actors or spectators; whether we camped with the Indians, marched with De Soto or La Salle and felled the forests of early St. Louis with Laclede and Chouteau, or whether we were part of that great host on the hillside, we can say no longer that we do not understand the importance of the idea, or the value and cogency of the visible symbols that fix it in the memory and grip it to the heart. [10] The Pageant and Masque of St. Louis, 1915. The Church of Christ always has understood and used this property of the visible and tangible symbol to enforce the claims of the abstract idea. We revere the cross, not because there is anything in its shape or substance to make us venerate it, but because it is the symbol of the Christian religion--of all that it has done for the world in the past and all that it may do in the future. That is why we love and honor the flag--not because it is a piece of cloth bearing certain figures and colors, but because it is to us the symbol of all that our country has meant to our fathers; all it means to us and all that it may mean to our children, generation after generation. A nation's flag did not always mean all this to those who gazed upon it. In very old times the flag was for the soldier alone and had no more meaning for the ordinary citizen than a helmet or a spear. When the soldier saw it uplifted in the thick of the battle he rallied to it. Then the flag became the personal emblem of a king or a prince, whether in battle or not; then it was used to mark what belonged to the government of a country. It is still so used in many parts of Europe, where the display of a flag on a building marks it as government property, as our flag does when it is used on a post office or a custom-house. Nowhere but in our own country is the flag used as the general symbol of patriotic feeling and displayed alike by soldier and citizen, by Government office and private dwelling. So it comes about that the stars and stripes means to us all that his eagles did to the Roman soldier; all that the great Oriflamme did to the medieval Frenchman; all that the Union Jack now means to the Briton or the tri-color to the Frenchman--and more, very much more, beside. What ideas, then, does the flag stand for? First, it stands for union. It was conceived in union, it was dipped in blood to preserve union, and for union it still stands. Its thirteen stripes remind us of that gallant little strip of united colonies along the Atlantic shore that threw down the gage of battle to Britain a century and a half ago. Its stars are symbols of the wider union that now is. Both may be held to signify the great truth that in singleness of purpose among many there is effective strength that no one by himself can hope to achieve. Our union of States was formed in fear of foreign aggression; we have need of it still though our foes be of our own household. If we are ever to govern our cities properly, hold the balance evenly betwixt capital and labor, develop our great natural resources without undue generosity on the one hand or parsimony on the other--solve the thousand and one problems that rise to confront us on every hand--we shall never accomplish these things by struggling singly--one man at a time or even one State at a time, but by concerted, united effort, the perfect union of which our flag is a symbol, and which we need to-day even more than we did in 1776 or 1861. We stand on the threshold of an effort to alter our city government. Whether that effort should or should not succeed, every citizen must decide for himself, with the aid of such intelligence and judgment as it has pleased God to give him. But if he should decide in its favor, be certain that his individual vote at the polls will go a very little way toward bringing his desires to pass. We are governed by majorities, and a majority is a union of many. He who would win must not only vote, but work. Our flag, with its assemblages of stripes and stars, is a perpetual reminder that by the union of the many, and not merely by the rectitude of the individual, are policies altered and charters changed. Again, our flag stands for love. It is a beautiful flag and it stands for a beautiful land. We all love what is our own, if we are normal men and women--our families, our city, our country. They are all beautiful to us, and it is right that they should be. I confess that the movement that has for its motto "See America First" has my hearty sympathy. Not that the Rockies or the Sierras are necessarily more beautiful than the Alps or the Missouri fairer than the Danube; we should have no more to do here with comparisons than the man who loves his children. He does not, before deciding that he will love them, compare them critically with his neighbors'. If we do not love the Grand Canyon and the Northern Rockies, the wild Sierras and the more peaceful beauties of the Alleghenies or the Adirondacks, simply because leaving these all unseen we prefer the lakes and mountains of foreign lands, we are like a man who should desert his own children, whom he had never seen, to pass his time at a moving-picture show, because he believed that he saw there faces and forms more fair than those of his own little ones. When we sing in our hymn of "America" I love thy rocks and rills Thy woods and templed hills, we should be able to do it from the heart. It is indeed fitting that we should love our country, and thrill when we gaze at the old flag that symbolizes that love. Does this mean that when our country makes an error we are to shut our eyes to it? Does it require us to call wrong right and black white? There is a sentiment with which you are all familiar, "My country, may she ever be right; but, right or wrong, my country!" Understood aright, these are the noblest and truest of words, but they are commonly misinterpreted, and they have done much harm. To love and stand by a friend who has done wrong is a fine thing; but it would be very different to abet him in his wrong-doing and assure him that he had done right. We may dearly love a son or a brother who is the worst of sinners, without joining him in sin or persuading him that he is righteous. So we may say, "Our country, right or wrong" without forfeiting the due exercise of our judgment in deciding whether she is right or wrong, or the privilege of exerting our utmost power to make her do right. If she is fighting for an unrighteous cause, we should not go over to the enemy, but we should do our best to make her cease and to make amends for the wrong she has done. Another thing for which the flag stands is freedom or liberty. We all are familiar with the word. It means different things to different persons. When hampering conditions press hard upon a man, all that he thinks of for the moment is to be rid of them. Without them he deems that he will be free. The freedom of which our fathers thought, for which they fought and which they won, was freedom from government by what had become to them a foreign power. The freedom that the black man longed for in the sixties was freedom from slavery. To-day men and women living in intolerable industrial conditions are panting for freedom--the freedom that seems to them just now more desirable than aught else in the world. All this the flag stands for, but it stands for much more. Under its folds we are entitled to live our own lives in the fullest way compatible with the exercise of the same privilege by others. This includes political freedom, industrial freedom, social freedom and all the rest. Despite much grumbling and some denials, I believe that it is all summed up under political freedom, and that we have it all, though we may not always take advantage of it. The people who groan under an industrial yoke do so because they do not choose to exert the power given them by law, under the flag, to throw it off. The boss-ridden city is boss-ridden only because it is satisfied to be so. The generation that is throttled by trusts and monopolies may at any time effect a peaceful revolution. The flag gives us freedom, but even a man's eternal salvation cannot be forced upon him against his will. Another thing for which the flag stands is justice--the "square deal," as it is called by one of our Presidents. To every man shall come sooner or later, under its folds, that which he deserves. This means largely "hands off," and is but one of the aspects of freedom, or liberty, since if we do not interfere with a man, what happens to him is a consequence of what he is and what he does. If we oppress him, or interfere with him, he gets less than he merits; and if, on the contrary we coddle him and give him privileges, he may get more than his due. Give a man opportunity and a free path and he will achieve what is before him in the measure of his strength. That the American Flag stands for all this, thousands will testify who have left their native shores to live under its folds and who have contributed here to the world's progress what the restraints and injustice of the old world forbade then to give. This sense of the removal of bonds, of sudden release and the entry into free space, is well put by a poet of our own, Henry Van Dyke, when he sings, So it's home again, and home again, America for me! My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be, In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars. I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack: The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back, But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free-- We love our land for what she is and what she is to be. Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea, To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars. Finally, the flag stands for the use of physical force where it becomes necessary. This simple statement of facts will grieve many good people, but to omit it would be false to the truth and dishonorable to the flag that we honor today. Its origin, as we have seen, was in its service as a rallying point in battle. We are still battling, and we still need it. And at times our contests still inevitably take the physical form. One may earnestly pray for peace; one may even pay his dues to the Peace Society and still realize that to preserve peace we may have to use the sword. Northward, across the Canadian border, good men[11] are striving even now to keep us in peace and to assure peace to a neighbor severely torn by internal conflict. Can any of us doubt that our good friend and fellow-citizen--nay, can anyone doubt that our neighbors of the Southern Continent--are doing their best to save human lives, to preserve our young men and the young men of Mexico to build and operate machines, to raise crops and to rebuild and beautify cities, instead of sending them to fill soldiers' graves, as our bravest and best did in the "sixties?" And yet, should they succeed, as God grant they may, who can doubt that what will give strength and effect to their decisions will be the possibility of force, exerted in a righteous cause, symbolized by the flag? Who can be sorry that back of the flag there are earnest men; nay, that there are ships there, and guns? One need not be a Jingo; one can hate war and love peace with all one's heart and yet rejoice that the flag symbolizes authority--the ability to back up a decision without which the mind itself cannot decide in calmness and impartiality. [11] United States and "A-B-C" Commissions on the State of Mexico. Surely, to say that the flag stands for the exertion of force, is only to say that it stands for peace; for it is by force only, or by the possibility of it, that peace is assured and maintained. These are a few of the many things for which our flag of the Stars and Stripes stands. We are right to doff our hats when it passes; we are right to love it and to reverence it, for in so doing we are reverencing union, patriotism, liberty and justice. That it shall never become an empty symbol; that it shall never wave over a land disunited, animated by hate, shackled by indifference and feebleness, permeated by injustice, unable to exert that salutary strength which alone can preserve peace without and within--this is for us to see and for our children and grandchildren. We must not only exercise that "eternal vigilance" of which the fathers spoke, but we must be eternally ready, eternally active. The Star-Spangled Banner! Long may it wave over a land whose sons and daughters are both free and brave--free because they are brave, and brave because they are free, and both because they are true children of that eternal father without whom both freedom and bravery are but empty names. THE PEOPLE'S SHARE IN THE PUBLIC LIBRARY[12] [12] Read before the Chicago Woman's Club. January 6, 1915. The change that has come over the library in the last half century may be described, briefly but comprehensively, by saying that it has become predominantly a social institution; that is, that its primary concern is now with the service that it may render to society--to the people. Books, of course, were always intended to be read, and a library would have no meaning were it never to be used; yet in the old libraries the collection and preservation of the books was primary and their use secondary, whereas the modern institution exists primarily for public service, the collection of the books, their preservation, and whatever is done to them being directed to this end. To a social institution--a family, a school, a club, a church or a municipality--the persons constituting it, maintaining it, or served by it are all-important. A family without parents and children, a school without pupils, a club without members, a church with no congregation, a city without citizens--all are unthinkable. We may better realize the change in our conception of the public library by noting that it has taken its place among bodies of this type. A modern library with no readers is unthinkable; it is no library, as we now understand the word; though it be teeming with books, housed in a palace, well cataloged and properly manned. It is no longer possible to question this view of the library as a social institution--a means of rendering general service to the widest public. We have to deal not with theories of what the library ought to be, but, with facts indicating what it actually is; and we have only to look about us to realize that the facts give the fullest measure of support to what I have just said. The library is a great distributing agency, the commodities in which it deals being ideas and its customers the citizens at large, who pay, through the agency of taxation, for what they receive. This democratic and civic view of the public library's functions, however, does not commend itself to those who are not in sympathy with democratic ideals. In a recent address, a representative librarian refers to it as "the commercial traveler theory" of the library. The implication, of course, is that it is an ignoble or unworthy theory. I have no objection to accepting the phrase, for in my mind it has no such connotation. The commercial traveler has done the world service which the library should emulate rather than despise. He is the advance guard of civilization. To speak but of our own country and of its recent years, he is responsible for much of our improvement in transit facilities and hotel accommodations. Personally, he is becoming more and more acceptable. The best of our educated young men are going into commerce, and in commerce to-day no one can reach the top of the ladder who has not proved his efficiency "on the road." Would that we could place men of his type at the head of all our libraries! We need not think, however, that there is anything new in the method of distribution by personal travel. Homer employed it when he wished his heroic verse to reach the great body of his countrymen. By personal travel he took it to the cross-roads--just as the distributor of food and clothing and labor-saving appliances does to-day; just as we librarians must do if we are to democratize all literature as Homer democratized a small part of it. Homer, if you choose to say so, adopted the "commercial-traveler theory" of literary distribution; but I prefer to say that the modern public library, in laying stress on the necessity of distributing its treasures and in adopting the measures that have proved effective in other fields, is working on the Homeric method. Now, without the people to whom he distributed his wares, Homer would have been dead long ago. He lives because he took his wares to his audience. And without its public, as we have already said, the public library, too, would soon pass into oblivion. It must look to the public for the breath of life, for the very blood in its veins, for its bone and sinew. What, then, is the part that the community may play in increasing the efficiency of a public institution like the public library? Such an institution is, first of all, a medium through which the community does something for itself. The community employs and supports it, and at the same time is served by it. To use another homely illustration, which I am sure will not please those who object to comparing great things with small, this type of relationship is precisely what we find in domestic service. A cook or a housemaid has a dual relation to the mistress of the house, who is at the same time her employer and the person that she directly serves. This sort of relation does not obtain, for instance, in the case of a railroad employe, who is responsible to one set of persons and serves another. The public library is established and maintained by a given community in order that it may perform certain service for that same community directly. It seems to me that this dual relationship ought to make for efficiency. If it does not, it is because its existence and significance are not always realized. The cook knows that if she does not cook to suit her mistress she will lose her job--the thing works almost automatically. If the railroad employe does not serve the public satisfactorily there is no such immediate reaction, although I do not deny that the public displeasure may ultimately reach the railroad authorities and through them the employe. In most public institutions the reaction is necessarily somewhat indirect. The post office is a public institution, but public opinion must act on it generally through the channels of Congressional legislation, which takes time. Owing to this fact, very few postmen, for instance, realize that the persons to whom they deliver letters are also their employers. In all libraries the machinery of reaction is not the same. In St. Louis, for instance, the library receives the proceeds of a tax voted directly by the people; in New York City it receives an appropriation voted by the Board of Apportionment, whose members are elected by the people. The St. Louis Public Library is therefore one step nearer the control of the people than the New York Public Library. If we could imagine the management of either library to become so objectionable as to make its abolition desirable, a petition for a special election could remove public support in St. Louis very soon. In New York the matter might have to become an issue in a general election, at which members of a Board of Apportionment should be elected under pledge to vote against the library's appropriation. Nevertheless, in both cases there is ultimate popular control. Owing to this dual relation, the public can promote the efficiency of the library in two ways--by controlling it properly and by its attitude toward the service that is rendered. Every member of the public, in fact, is related to the library somewhat as a railway stockholder, riding on a train, is related to the company. He is at once boss and beneficiary. Let us see first what the public can do for its library through its relation of control. Besides the purse-strings, which we have seen are sometimes held directly by the public and sometimes by its elected representatives, we must consider the governing board of the institution--its trustees or directors. These may be elected by the people or appointed by an elected officer, such as the mayor, or chosen by an elected body, such as the city council or the board of education. Let us take the purse-strings first. Does your public library get enough public money to enable it to do the work that it ought to do? What is the general impression about this in the community? What does the library board think? What does the librarian think? What do the members of his staff say? What has the library's annual report to say about it? It is not at all a difficult matter for the citizen to get information on this subject and to form his own opinion regarding it. Yet it is an unusual thing to find a citizen who has either the information or a well-considered opinion. The general impression always seems to be that the library has plenty of money--rather more, in fact, than it can legitimately use. It is probably well for the library, under these circumstances, that the public control of its purse-strings is indirect. If the citizens of an average American city had to go to the polls annually and vote their public library an appropriation, I am sure that most libraries would have to face a very material reduction of their income. The trouble about this impression is that it is gained without knowledge of the facts. If a majority of the citizens, understanding how much work a modern public library is expected to do and how their own library does it, should deliberately conclude that its management was extravagant, and that its expenditure should be cut down, the minority would have nothing to do, as good citizens, but submit. The citizens have nothing to say as directly as this, but the idea, so generally held, that libraries are well off, does operate in the long run to limit library appropriations and to prevent the library from doing much useful work that it might do and ought to do. It is then, every citizen's business, as I conceive it, to inform himself or herself of the work that the public library is doing, of that which it is leaving undone, and of the possibilities of increased appropriations. If the result is a realization that the library appropriation is inadequate, that realization should take the form of a statement that will sooner or later reach the ears, and tend to stimulate the action, of those directly responsible. And it should, above all, aid in the formation of a sound public opinion. Ours is, we are told, a government of public opinion. Such government will necessarily be good or bad as public opinion is based on matured judgment or only on fleeting impressions. Inadequacy of support is responsible for more library delinquency than the average citizen imagines. Many a librarian is deservedly condemned for the unsatisfactory condition of his institution when his fault is not, as his detractors think, failure to see what should be done, or lack of ability to do it, so much as inability to raise funds to do it with. This is doubtless a fault, and its possessor should suffer, but how about the equally guilty accessories? How about the city authorities who have failed to vote the library adequate support? How about the board of trustees who have accepted such a situation without protest? And what is more to our purpose here, how about the citizens who have limited their efforts to pointing out the cracks in the edifice, with not a bit of constructive work in propping it up and making possible its restoration to strength and soundness? In conversation with a friend, not long ago, I referred to the financial limitations of our library's work, and said that we could add to it greatly and render more acceptable service if our income were larger. He expressed great surprise, and said: "Why, I thought you had all the money you want; your income must be all of $100,000 a year." Now, our income actually is about $250,000, but how could I tell him that? I judiciously changed the subject. Let us look next, if you please, at the library board and examine some of its functions. There appears to be much public misapprehension of the duties of this body, and such misapprehension assumes various and opposing forms. Some appear to think that the librarian is responsible for all that is done in the library and that his board is a perfunctory body. Others seem to believe that the board is the direct administrative head of the library, in all of its working details and that the librarian is its executive in the limited sense of doing only those things that he is told to do. Unfortunately there are libraries that are operated in each of these ways, but neither one relationship nor the other, nor any modification of either, is the ideal one between a librarian and his board. The board is supreme, of course, but it is a body of non-experts who have employed an expert to bring about certain results. They ought to know what they want, and what they have a right to expect, and if their expert does not give them this, the relation between him and them should terminate; but if they are men of sense they will not attempt to dictate methods or supervise details. They are the delegated representatives of the great public, which owns the library and operates it for a definite purpose. It is this function of the board as the representative of the public that should be emphasized here. Has the public a definite idea of what it wants from the public library, and of what is reasonable for it to ask? If so, is it satisfied that it is represented by a board that is of the same mind? The citizens may be assured that the composition of the library board rests ultimately upon its will. If the board is elective, this is obvious; if appointive, the appointing officer or body would hardly dare to go counter to the expressed desire of the citizens. What has been said above may be put into a very few words. The public library is public property, owned and controlled by the citizens. Every citizen, therefore, should be interested in setting standards for it and playing his part toward making it conform to them--in seeing that its governing body represents him in also recognizing those standards and trying to maintain them--in laboring for such a due apportionment of the public funds as shall not make an attempt to live up to such standards a mere farce. So much for the things that the citizen can and should do in his capacity of library boss. His possibilities as a beneficiary are still more interesting and valuable. Perhaps you remember the story of the man who attempted to board the warship and, on being asked his business, replied, "I'm one of the owners." One version of the tale then goes on to relate how the sailor thus addressed picked up a splinter from the deck, and, handing it to the visitor, remarked: "Well, I guess that's about your share. Take it and get out!" I have always sympathized with the sailor rather than with his visitor. Most of us librarians have had experiences with these bumptious "owners" of public property. The fact has already been noted that in a case like this the citizen is both an owner and a beneficiary. He has duties and privileges in both capacities, but he sometimes acts the owner in the wrong place. The man on the warship was doubtless an owner, but at that particular moment he was only a visitor, subject to whatever rules might govern visitors; and he should have acted as such. Every citizen is a part owner of the public library; he should never forget that fact. We have seen how he may effectively assert his ownership and control. But when he enters the library to use it his role is that of beneficiary, and he should act as such. He may so act and at the same time be of the greatest service to the institution which he, as a member of the public, has created and is maintaining. I know of no way in which a man may show his good citizenship or the reverse--may either demonstrate his ability and willingness to live and work in community harness, or show that he is fit for nothing but individual wild life in the woods--better than in his use of such a public institution as a library. The man who cannot see that what he gets from such an institution must necessarily be obtained at the price of sacrifice--that others in the community are also entitled to their share, and that sharing always means yielding--that man has not yet learned the first lesson in the elements of civic virtue. And when one sees a thousand citizens, each of whom would surely raise his voice in protest if the library were to waste public money by buying a thousand copies of the latest novel, yet find fault with the library because each cannot borrow it before all the others, one is tempted to wonder whether we really have here a thousand bad citizens or whether their early education in elementary arithmetic has been neglected. Before the present era there were regulations in all institutions that seemed to be framed merely to exasperate--to put the public in its place and chasten its spirit. There are now no such rules in good libraries. He who thinks there are may find that there is a difference of opinion between him and those whom he has set in charge of the library regarding what is arbitrary and what is necessary; but at any rate he will discover that the animating spirit of modern library authority is to give all an equal share in what it has to offer, and to restrain one man no more than is necessary to insure to his brother the measure of privilege to which all are equally entitled. Another way in which the citizen, in his capacity of the library's beneficiary, can aid it and improve its service is his treatment of its administrators. Librarians are very human: they react quickly and surely to praise or blame, deserved or undeserved. Blame is what they chiefly get. Sometimes they deserve it and sometimes not. But the occasions on which some citizen steps in and says, "Well done, good and faithful servant," are rare indeed. The public servant has to interpret silence as praise; so sure is he that the least slip will be caught and condemned by a vigilant public. No one can object to discriminating criticism; it is a potent aid to good administration. Mere petulant fault-finding, however, especially if based on ignorance or misapprehension, does positive harm. And a little discriminating praise, now and then, is a wonderful stimulant. No service is possible without the men and women who render it; and the quality of service depends, more than we often realize, on the spirit and temper of a staff--something that is powerfully affected, either for good or for evil, by public action and public response. Years ago, at a branch library in a distant city, a reader stood at the counter and complained loudly because the library would not send her a postal reserve notice unless she defrayed the cost, which was one cent. The assistant to whom she was talking had no option in the matter and was merely enforcing a rule common, so far as I know, to all American public libraries; but she had to bear the brunt of the reader's displeasure, which she did meekly, as it was all in the day's work. The time occupied in this useless business spelled delay to half a dozen other readers, who were waiting their turn. Finally, one of them, a quiet little old lady in black, spoke up as follows: "Some of us hereabouts think that we owe a great debt of gratitude to this library. Its assistants have rendered service to us that we can never repay. I am glad to have an opportunity to do something in return, and it therefore gives me pleasure to pay the cent about which you are taking up this young lady's time, and ours." So saying, she laid the coin on the desk and the line moved on. I have always remembered these two points of view as typical of two kinds of library users. Their respective effects on the temper and work of a library staff need, I am sure, no explanation. In what I have said, which is such a small fraction of what might be said, that I am almost ashamed to offer it to you, I have in truth only been playing the variations on one tune, which is--Draw closer to the library, as it is trying to draw closer to you. There is no such thing, physicists tell us, as a one-sided force. Every force is but one aspect of a stress, which includes also an equal and opposing force. Any two interacting things in this world are either approaching each other or receding from each other. So it should be with library and public. A forward movement on the one hand should necessarily involve one to meet it. The peculiarity of our modern temper is our hunger for facts--our confidence that when the facts are known we shall find a way to deal with them, and that until the facts are known we shall not be able to act--not even to think. Our ancestors thought and acted sometimes on premises that seem to us frightfully flimsy--they tried, as Dean Swift painted them in his immortal satire, to get sunbeams from cucumbers. There are some sunbeam-chasers among us to-day, but even they recognize the need of real cucumbers to start with; the imaginary kind will not do. I recently heard a great teacher of medicine say that the task of the modern physician is merely to ascertain the facts on which the intelligent public is to act. How different that sounds from the dicta of the medicine of a past generation! It is the same everywhere: we are demanding an accurate survey--an ascertainment of the facts in any field in which action, based on inference and judgment, is seen to be necessary. Now the library is nothing more nor less than a storehouse of recorded facts. It is becoming so more truly and more fully every day, thereby adjusting itself to the modern temper of which I have already spoken. The library and its users are coming more closely together, in sympathy, in aims and in action, than ever before--partly a result and partly a justification for that Homeric method of popularizing it which has been characterized and condemned as commercial. The day when the librarian, or the professor, or the clergyman could retire into his tower and hold aloof from the vulgar herd is past. The logical result of such an attitude is now being worked out on the continent of Europe. Not civilizations, as some pessimists are lamenting, but the forces antagonistic to civilization are there destroying one another, and there is hope that a purified democracy will arise from the wreckage. May our American civilization never have to run the gantlet of such a terrible trial! Meanwhile, there can be no doubt that the hope for the future efficiency of all our public institutions, including the library, lies in the success of democracy, and that depends on the existence and improvement of the conditions in whose absence democracy necessarily fails. Foremost among these is the homogeneity of the population. The people among whom democracy succeeds must have similar standards, ideas, aims and abilities. Democracy may exist in a pack of wolves, but not in a group that is half wolves and half men. Either the wolves will kill the men or the men the wolves. This is an extreme case, but it is true in general that in a community made up of irreconcilable elements there can be no true democracy. And the same oneness of vision and purpose that conduces to the success of democracy will also bring to perfection such great democratic institutions as the library, which have already borne such noteworthy fruit among us just because we are homogeneous beyond all other nations on the earth. And here progress is by action and reaction, as we see it so often in the world. The unity of aims and abilities that makes democracy and democratic institutions possible is itself facilitated and increased by the work of those institutions. The more work the library does, the more its ramifications multiply, and the further they extend, the more those conditions are favored that make the continuance of the library possible. In working for others, it is working for itself, and every additional bit of strength and sanity that it takes on does but enable it to work for others the more. And if the democracy whose servant it is will but realize that it has grown up as a part of that American system to which we are all committed--to which we owe all that we are and in which we must place all our hopes for the future--then neither democracy nor library will have aught to fear. Democracy will have its "true and laudable" service from the library, and the library in its turn will have adequate sympathy, aid and support from the people. It is no accident that I make this appeal for sympathy and aid to a club composed of women. The bonds between the modern public library and the modern woman's club have been particularly strong in this country. The two institutions have grown up together, making their way against suspicion, contempt and hostility, aided by the same public demand, and now, when both are recognized as elements in the intellectual strength of our nation, they are rendering mutual service. The club turns to the library daily. Hitherto the library has turned to the club only in some emergency--a bill to be passed, an appropriation to be made, an administration to be purified. I have tried to show you how, apart from these great services, which no one would think of minimizing, the women of this country, as citizens, can uphold the hands of the library daily. Ours is a government of public opinion, and in the formation of that opinion there is no more powerful element than the sentiment of our women, especially when organized in such bodies as yours. "To be aristocratic in taste and democratic in service," says Bliss Perry, "is the privilege and glory of the public library." In appealing thus to both your aristocracy and your democracy, I feel, then, that I have not gone astray. SOME TENDENCIES OF AMERICAN THOUGHT[13] [13] Read before the New York Library Association at Squirrel Inn, Haines Falls, September 28, 1915. The modern American mind, like modern America, itself, is a melting pot. We are taking men and women of all races and fusing them into Americans. In the same way we are taking points of view, ideas, standards and modes of action from whatever source we find them, combining them and fusing them into what will one day become American thoughts and standards. We are thus combining the most varied and opposing things--things that it would seem impossible to put together. Take our modern American tendency in government, for instance. Could there be two things more radically different than despotism and democracy?--the rule of the one and the rule of the many? And yet I believe that we are taking steps toward a very successful combination of the two. Such a combination is essentially ancient. No despotism can hold its own without the consent of the governed. That consent may be unwilling and sooner or later it is then withheld, with the result that a revolution takes place and the despot loses his throne--the oldest form of the recall. Every despotism is thus tempered by revolution, and Anglo-Saxon communities have been ready to exercise such a privilege on the slightest sign that a despotic tendency was creeping into their government. It is not remarkable, then, that our own Federal government, which is essentially a copy of the British government of its day, should have incorporated this feature of the recall, which in England had just passed from its revolutionary to its legal stage. It was beginning to be recognized then that a vote of the people's representatives could recall a monarch, and the English monarchy is now essentially elective. But to make assurance doubly sure, the British government, in its later evolution, has been practically separated from the monarch's person, and any government may be simply overthrown or "recalled" by a vote of lack of confidence in the House of Commons, followed, if need be, by a defeat in a general election. We have not yet adopted this feature. Our President is still the head of our government, and he and all other elected Federal officers serve their terms out, no matter whether the people have confidence in them or not. But the makers of our Constitution improved on the British government as they found it. They made the term of the executive four years instead of life and systematized the "recall" by providing for impeachment proceedings--a plan already recognized in Britain in the case of certain administrative and judicial officers. As it stands at present we have a temporary elective monarch with more power, even nominally, than most European constitutional monarchs and more actually than many so-called absolute monarchs such as the Czar or the Sultan. In case he should abuse the power that we have given him, he may be removed from office after due trial, by our elected representatives. In following out these ideas in later years, we are gradually evolving a form of government that is both more despotic and more democratic. We are combining the legislative and executive power in the hands of a few persons, hampering them very little in their exercise of it, and making it possible to recall them by direct vote of the body of citizens that elected them. I think we may describe the tendency of public thought in governmental matters as a tendency toward a despotism under legalized democratic control. It may be claimed, I think, that the best features of despotism and democracy may thus be utilized, with a minimum of the evils of each. It was believed by the ancients, and we frequently see it stated today, that the ideal government would be government by a perfectly good despot. This takes the citizens into account only as persons who are governed, and not as persons who govern or help to govern. It is pleasant, perhaps, to have plenty of servants to wait upon one, but surely health, physical, mental and moral, waits on him who does most things for himself. I once heard Lincoln Steffens say: "What we want is not 'Good Government'; it is _Self_-Government." But is it not possible to get the advantage of government by a few, with its possibilities of continuous policy and its freedom from "crowd-psychology," with its skillful utilization of expert knowledge, while admitting the public to full knowledge of what is going on, and full ultimate control of it? We evidently think so, and our present tendencies are evidence that we are attempting something of the kind. Our belief seems to be that if we elect our despot and are able to recall him we shall have to keep tab on him pretty closely, and that the knowledge of statecraft that will thus be necessary to us will be no less than if we personally took part in legislation and administration--probably far more than if we simply went through the form of delegating our responsibilities and then took no further thought, as most of us have been accustomed to do. Whether this is the right view or not--whether it is workable--the future will show; I am here discussing tendencies, not their ultimate outcome. But it would be too much to expect that this or any other eclectic policy should be pleasing to all. "The real problem of collectivism," says Walter Lippmann, "is the difficulty of combining popular control with administrative power.... The conflict between democracy and centralized authority ... is the line upon which the problems of collectivism will be fought out." In selecting elements from both despotism and democracy we are displeasing the adherents of both. There is too much despotism in the plan for one side and too much democracy for the other. We constantly hear the complaint that concentrated responsibility with popular control is too despotic, and at the same time the criticism that it is too democratic. To put your city in the hands of a small commission, perhaps of a city manager, seems to some to be a return to monarchy; and so perhaps it is. To give Tom, Dick and Harry the power to unseat these monarchs at will is said to be dangerously socialistic; and possibly it is. Only it is possible that by combining these two poisons--this acid and this alkali--in the same pill, we are neutralizing their harmful qualities. At any rate this would seem to be the idea on which we are now proceeding. We may now examine the effects of this tendency toward eclecticism in quite a different field--that of morals. Among the settlers of our country were both Puritans and Cavaliers--representatives in England of two moral standards that have contended there for centuries and still exist there side by side. We in America are attempting to mix them with some measure of success. This was detected by the German lady of whom Mr. Bryce tells in his "American Commonwealth," who said that American women were "_furchtbar frei und furchtbar fromm_"--frightfully free and frightfully pious! In other words they are trying to mix the Cavalier and Puritan standards. Of course those who do not understand what is going on think that we are either too free or too pious. We are neither; we are trying to give and accept freedom in cases where freedom works for moral efficiency and restraint where restraint is indicated. We have not arrived at a final standard. We may not do so. This effort at mixture, like all our others, may fail; but there appears to be no doubt that we are making it. To take an obvious instance, I believe that we are trying, with some success, to combine ease of divorce with a greater real regard for the sanctity of marriage. We have found that if marriage is made absolutely indissoluble, there will be greater excuse for disregarding the marriage vow than if there are legal ways of dissolving it. Americans are shocked at Europeans when they allude in ordinary conversation to infractions of the moral code that they treat as trivial. They on the other hand are shocked when we talk of divorce for what they consider insufficient causes. In the former case we seem to them "frightfully pious"; in the latter, "frightfully free." They are right; we are both; it is only another instance of our tendency towards eclecticism, this time in moral standards. In some directions we find that this tendency to eclecticism is working toward a combination not of two opposite things, but of a hundred different ones. Take our art for instance, especially as manifested in our architecture. A purely native town in Italy, Arabia, or Africa, or Mexico, has its own atmosphere; no one could mistake one for the other any more than he could mistake a beaver dam for an ant hill or a bird's nest for a woodchuck hole. But in an American city, especially where we have enough money to let our architects do their utmost, we find streets where France, England, Italy, Spain, Holland, Arabia and India all stand elbow to elbow, and the European visitor knows not whether to laugh or to make a hasty visit to his nerve-specialist. It seems all right to us, and it _is_ all right from the standpoint of a nation that is yet in the throes of eclecticism. And our other art--painting, sculpture, music--it is all similarly mixed. Good of its kind, often; but we have not yet settled down to the kind that we like best--the kind in which we are best fitted to do something that will live through the ages. We used to think for instance that in music the ordinary diatonic major scale, with its variant minor, was a fact of nature. We knew vaguely that the ancient Greeks had other scales, and we knew also that the Chinese and the Arabs had scales so different that their music was generally displeasing to us. But we explained this by saying that our scale was natural and right and that the others were antiquated, barbaric and wrong. Now we are opening our arms to the exotic scales and devising a few of our own. We have the tonal and the semi-tonal scales and we are trying to make use of the Chinese, Arabic and Hindu modes. We are producing results that sound very odd to ears that are attuned to the old-fashioned music, but our eclecticism here as elsewhere is cracking the shell of prejudice and will doubtless lead to some good end, though perhaps we can not see it yet. How about education? In the first place there are, as I read the history of education, two main methods of training youth--the individual method and the class method. No two boys or girls are alike; no two have like reactions to the same stimulus. Each ought to have a separate teacher, for the methods to be employed must be adapted especially to the material on which we have to work. This means a separate tutor for every child. On the other hand, the training that we give must be social--must prepare for life with and among one's fellow beings, otherwise it is worthless. This means training in class, with and among other students, where each mind responds not to the teacher's alone but to those of its fellow pupils. Here are two irreconcilable requirements. In our modern systems of education we are trying to respond to them as best we may, teaching in class and at the same time giving each pupil as much personal attention as we can. The tutorial system, now employed in Princeton University, is an interesting example of our efforts as applied to the higher education. At the same time, eclecticism in our choice of subjects is very manifest, and at times our success here seems as doubtful as our mixture of architectural styles. In the old college days, not so very long ago, Latin, Greek, and mathematics made up the curriculum. Now our boys choose from a thousand subjects grouped in a hundred courses. In our common schools we have introduced so many new subjects as to crowd the curriculum. Signs of a reaction are evident. I am alluding to the matter here only as another example of our modern passion for wide selection and for the combination of things that apparently defy amalgamation. What of religion? Prof. George E. Woodberry, in his interesting book on North Africa, says in substance that there are only two kinds of religion, the simple and the complex. Mohammedanism he considers a simple religion, like New England Puritanism, with which he thinks it has points in common. Both are very different from Buddhism, for instance. Accepting for the moment his classification I believe that the facts show an effort to combine the two types in the United States. Many of the Christian denominations that Woodberry would class as "simple"--those that began with a total absence of ritual, are becoming ritualized. Creeds once simple are becoming complicated with interpretation and comment. On the other hand we may see in the Roman Catholic Church and among the so-called "High Church" Episcopalians a disposition to adopt some of the methods that have hitherto distinguished other religious bodies. Consider, for example, some of the religious meetings held by the Paulist Fathers in New York, characterized by popular addresses and the singing of simple hymns. As another example of the eclectic spirit of churches in America we may point to the various efforts at combination or unity, with such results as the Federation of the Churches of Christ in America--an ambitious name, not yet justified by the facts--the proposed amalgamation of several of the most powerful Protestant bodies in Canada, and the accomplished fact of the University of Toronto--an institution whose constituent colleges are controlled by different religious denominations, including the Roman Catholic Church. I may also mention the present organization of the New York Public Library, many of whose branch libraries were contributions from religious denominations, including the Jews, the Catholics and the Episcopalians. All these now work together harmoniously. I know of nothing of this kind on any other continent, and I think we shall be justified in crediting it to the present American tendency to eclecticism. Turn for a moment to philosophy. What is the philosophical system most widely known at present as American? Doubtless the pragmatism of William James. No one ever agreed with anyone else in a statement regarding philosophy, and I do not expect you to agree with me in this; but pragmatism seems to me essentially an eclectic system. It is based on the character of results. Is something true or false? I will tell you when I find out whether it works practically or not. Is something right or wrong? I rely on the same test. Now it seems to me that this is the scheme of the peasant in later Rome, who was perfectly willing to appeal to Roman Juno or Egyptian Isis or Phoenician Moloch, so long as he got what he wanted. If a little bit of Schopenhauer works, and some of Fichte; a piece of Christianity and a part of Vedantism, it is all grist to the mill of pragmatism. Any of it that works must of necessity be right and true. I am not criticizing this, or trying to controvert it; I am merely asserting that it leads to eclecticism; and this, I believe, explains its vogue in the United States. It would be impossible to give, in the compass of a brief address, a list of all the domains in which this eclecticism--this tendency to select, combine and blend--has cropped out among us Americans of today. I have reserved for the last that in which we are particularly interested--the Public Library, in which we may see it exemplified in an eminent degree. The public library in America has blossomed out into a different thing, a wider thing, a combination of more different kinds of things, than in any other part of the world. Foreign librarians and foreign library users look at us askance. They wonder at the things we are trying to combine under the activities of one public institution; they shudder at our extravagance. They wonder that our tax-payers do not rebel when they are compelled to foot the bills for what we do. But the taxpayers do not seem to mind. They frequently complain, but not about what we are doing. What bothers them is that we do not try to do more. When we began timidly to add branch libraries to our system they asked us why we did not build and equip them faster; when we placed a few books on open shelves they demanded that we treat our whole stock in the same way; when we set aside a corner for the children they forced us to fit up a whole room and to place such a room in every building, large or small. We have responded to every such demand. Each response has cost money and the public has paid the bill. Apparently librarians and public are equally satisfied. We should not be astonished, for this merely shows that the library is subject to the same laws and tendencies as all other things American. Hence it comes about that whereas in a large library a century ago there were simply stored books with no appliances to do anything but keep them safe, we now find in library buildings all sorts of devices to facilitate the quick and efficient use of the books both in the building and in the readers' homes, together with other devices to stimulate a desire to use books among those who have not yet felt it; to train children to use and love books; to interest the public in things that will lead to the use of books. This means that many of the things in a modern library seem to an old-fashioned librarian and an old-fashioned reader like unwarranted extensions or even usurpations. In our own Central building you will find collections of postal cards and specimens of textile fabrics, an index to current lectures, exhibitions and concerts, a public writing-room, with free note-paper and envelopes, a class of young women studying to be librarians, meeting places for all sorts of clubs and groups, civic, educational, social, political and religious; a bindery in full operation, a photographic copying-machine; lunch-rooms and rest-rooms for the staff; a garage, with an automobile in it, a telephone switchboard, a paintshop, a carpenter-shop, and a power-plant of considerable capacity. Not one of these things I believe, would you have found in a large library fifty years ago. And yet the citizens of St. Louis seem to be cheerful and are not worrying over the future. We are eclectic, but we are choosing the elements of our blend with some discretion and we have been able, so far, to relate them all to books, to the mental activities that are stimulated by books and that produce more books, to the training that instils into the rising generation a love for books. The book is still at the foundation of the library, even if its walls have received some architectural embellishment of a different type. When anyone objects to the introduction into the library of what the colleges call "extra-curriculum activities," I prefer to explain and justify it in this larger way, rather than to take up each activity by itself and discuss its reasonableness--though this also may be undertaken with the hope of success. In developing as it has done, the Library in the United States of America has not been simply obeying some law of its own being; it has been following the whole stream of American development. You can call it a drift if you like; but the Library has not been simply drifting. The swimmer in a rapid stream may give up all effort and submit to be borne along by the current, or he may try to get somewhere. In so doing, he may battle with the current and achieve nothing but fatigue, or he may use the force of the stream, as far as he may, to reach his own goal. I like to think that this is what many American institutions are doing, our libraries among them. They are using the present tendency to eclecticism in an effort toward wider public service. When, in a community, there seems to be a need for doing some particular thing, the library, if it has the equipment and the means, is doing that thing without inquiring too closely whether there is logical justification for linking it with the library's activities rather than with some others. Note, now, how this desirable result is aided by our prevailing American tendency toward eclecticism. Suppose precisely the same conditions to obtain in England, or France, or Italy, the admitted need for some activity, the ability of the library and the inability of any other institution, to undertake it. I submit that the library would be extremely unlikely to move in the matter, simply from the lack of the tendency that we are discussing. That tendency gives a flexibility, almost a fluidity, which under a pressure of this kind, yields and ensures an outlet for desirable energy along a line of least resistance. The Englishman and the American, when they are arguing a case of this kind, assume each the condition of affairs that obtains in his own land--the rigidity on the one hand, the fluidity on the other. They assume it without stating it or even thoroughly understanding it, and the result is that neither can understand the conclusions of the other. The fact is that they are both right. I seriously question whether it would be right or proper for a library in a British community to do many of the things that libraries are doing in American communities. I may go further and say that the rigidity of British social life would make it impossible for the library to achieve these things. But it is also true that the fluidity of American social life makes it equally impossible for the library to withstand the pressure that is brought to bear on it here. To yield is in its case right and proper and a failure of response would be wrong and improper. It is usually assumed by the British critic of American libraries that their peculiarities are due to the temperament of the American librarian. We make a similar assumption when we discuss British libraries. I do not deny that the librarians on both sides have had something to do with it, but the determining factor has been the social and temperamental differences between the two peoples. Americans are fluid, experimental, eclectic, and this finds expression in the character of their institutions and in the way these are administered and used. Take if you please the reaction of the library on the two sides of the water to the inevitable result of opening it to home-circulation--the necessity of knowing whether a given book is or is not on the shelves. The American response was to open the shelves, the British, to create an additional piece of machinery--the indicator. These two results might have been predicted in advance by one familiar with the temper of the two peoples. It has shown itself in scores of instances, in the front yards of residences, for instance--walled off in England and open to the street in the United States. I shall be reminded, I suppose, that there are plenty of open shelves in English libraries and that the open shelf is gaining in favor. True; England is becoming "Americanized" in more respects than this one. But I am speaking of the immediate reaction to the stimulus of popular demand, and this was as I have stated it. In each case the reaction, temporarily at least, satisfied the demand; showing that the difference was not of administrative habit alone, but of community feeling. This rapid review of modern American tendencies, however confusing the impression that it may give, will at any rate convince us, I think, of one thing--the absurdity of objecting to anything whatever on the ground that it is un-American. We are the most receptive people in the world. We "take our good things where we find them," and what we take becomes "American" as soon as it gets into our hands. And yet, if anything new does not happen to suit any of us, the favorite method of attack is to denounce it as "un-American." Pretty nearly every element of our present social fabric has been thus denounced, at one time or another, and as it goes on changing, every change is similarly attacked. The makers of our Constitution were good conservative Americans--much too conservative, some of our modern radicals say--yet they provided for altering that Constitution, and set absolutely no limits on the alterations that might be made, provided that they were made in the manner specified in the instrument. We can make over our government into a monarchy tomorrow, if we want, or decree that no one in Chicago shall wear a silk hat on New Year's Day. It was recently the fashion to complain that the amendment of the Constitution has become so difficult as to be now practically a dead letter. And yet we have done so radical a thing as to change absolutely the method of electing senators of the United States; and we did it as easily and quietly as buying a hat--vastly more easily than changing a cook. The only obstacle to changing our Constitution, no matter how radically and fundamentally, is the opposition of the people themselves. As soon as they want the change, it comes quickly and simply. Changes like these are not un-American if the American people like them well enough to make them. They, and they alone, are the judges of what peculiarities they shall adopt as their own customs and characteristics. So that when we hear that this or that is un-American, we may agree only in so far as it is not yet an American characteristic. That we do not care for it today is no sign that we may not take up with it tomorrow, and it is no legitimate argument against our doing so, if we think proper. And now what does this all mean? The pessimist will tell us, doubtless, that it is a sign of decadence. It does remind us a little of the later days of the Roman empire when the peoples of the remotest parts of the known world, with their arts, customs and manners, were all to be found in the imperial city--when the gods of Greece, Syria and Egypt were worshipped side by side with those of old Rome, where all sorts of exotic art, philosophy, literature and politics took root and flourished. That is usually regarded as a period of decadence, and it was certainly a precursor of the empire's fall. When we consider that it was contemporaneous with great material prosperity and with the spread of luxury and a certain loosening of the moral fiber, such as we are experiencing in America today, we can not help feeling a little perturbed. Yet there is another way of looking at it. A period of this sort is often only a period of readjustment. The Roman empire as a political entity went out of existence long ago, but Rome's influence on our art, law, literature and government is still powerful. Her so-called "fall" was really not a fall but a changing into something else. In fact, if we take Bergson's view-point--which it seems to me is undoubtedly the true one, the thing we call Rome was never anything else but a process of change. At the time of which we speak the visible part of the change was accelerated--that is all. In like manner each one of you as an individual is not a fixed entity. You are changing every instant and the reality about you is the change, not what you see with the eye or photograph with the camera--that is merely a stage through which you pass and in which you do not stay--not for the thousand millionth part of the smallest recognizable instant. So our current American life and thought is not something that stands still long enough for us to describe it. Even as we write the description it has changed to another phase. And the phenomena of transition just now are particularly noticeable--that is all. We may call them decadent or we may look upon them as the beginnings of a new and more glorious national life. "The size and intricacy which we have to deal with," says Walter Lippmann, "have done more than anything else, I imagine, to wreck the simple generalizations of our ancestors." This is quite true, and so, in place of simplicity we are introducing complexity, very largely by selection and combination of simple elements evolved in former times to fit earlier conditions. Whether organic relations can be established among these elements, so that there shall one day issue from the welter something well-rounded, something American, fitting American conditions and leading American aspirations forward and upward, is yet on the knees of the gods. We, the men and women of America, and may I not say, we, the Librarians of America, can do much to direct the issue. DRUGS AND THE MAN[14] [14] A Commencement address to the graduating class of the School of Pharmacy, St. Louis, May 19, 1915. The graduation of a class of technically trained persons is an event of special moment. When we send forth graduates from our schools and colleges devoted to general education, while the thought of failure may be disquieting or embarrassing, we know that no special danger can result, except to the man who has failed. The college graduate who has neglected his opportunities has thrown away a chance, but he is no menace to his fellows. Affairs take on a different complexion in the technical or professional school. The poorly trained engineer, physician or lawyer, is an injury to the community. Failure to train an engineer may involve the future failure of a structure, with the loss of many lives. Failure to train a doctor means that we turn loose on the public one who will kill oftener than he will cure. Failure to train a lawyer means wills that can be broken, contracts that will not hold, needless litigation. Congressman Kent, of California, has coined a satisfactory word for this sort of thing--he calls it "mal-employment." Unemployment is a bad thing. We have seen plenty of it here during the past winter. But Kent says, and he is right, that malemployment is a worse thing. All these poor engineers and doctors and lawyers are busily engaged, and every thing on the surface seems to be going on well. But as a matter of fact, the world would be better off if each one of them should stop working and never do another stroke. It would pay the community to support them in idleness. I have always considered pharmacy to be one of the occupations in which malemployment is particularly objectionable. If you read Homer badly it affects no one but yourself. If you think Vera Cruz is in Italy and that the Amazon River runs into the Arctic Ocean, your neighbor is as well off as before; but if you are under the impression that strychnine is aspirin, you have failed in a way that is more than personal. I am dwelling on these unpleasant possibilities partly for the reason that the Egyptians displayed a skeleton at their banquets--because warnings are a tonic to the soul--but also because, if we are to credit much that we see in general literature, including especially the daily paper and the popular magazine, _all_ druggists are malemployed. And if it would really be better for the community that you should not enter upon the profession for which you have been trained, now, of course, is the time for you to know it. There seems to be a widespread impression--an assumption--that the day of the drug is over--that the therapeutics of the future are to be concerned along with hygiene and sanitation, with physical exercise, diet, and mechanical operations. The very word "drug" has come to have an objectionable connection that did not belong to it fifty years ago. Even some of the druggists themselves, it seems to me, are a little ashamed of the drug part of their occupation. Their places of business appear to be news-agencies, refreshment parlors, stationery stores--the drugs are "on the side," or rather in the rear. Sometimes, I am told, the proprietors of these places know nothing at all about pharmacy, but employ a prescription clerk who is a capable pharmacist. Here the druggist has stepped down from his former position as the manager of a business and has become a servant. All of which looks to me as if the pharmacist himself might be beginning to accept the valuation that some people are putting upon his services to the community. Now these things affect me, not as a physician nor as a pharmacist, for I am neither, but they do touch me as a student of physics and chemistry and as one whose business and pleasure it has been for many years to watch the development of these and other sciences. The fact that I am addressing you this evening may be taken, I suppose, as evidence that you may be interested in this point of view. The action of most substances on the human organism is a function of their chemical constitution. Has that chemical constitution changed? It is one of the most astonishing discoveries of our age that many, perhaps all, substances undergo spontaneous disintegration, giving rise to the phenomena now well known as "radio-activity." No substances ordinarily known and used in pharmacy, however, possess this quality in measurable degree, and we have no reason to suppose that the alkaloids, for instance, or the salts of potash or iron, differ today in any respect from those of a century ago. How about the other factor in the reaction--the human organism and its properties? That our bodily properties have changed in the past admits of no doubt. We have developed up to the point where we are at present. Here, however, evolution seems to have left us, and it is now devoting its attention exclusively to our mental and moral progress. Judging from what is now going on upon the continent of Europe, much remains to be accomplished. But there is no reason to believe that if Caesar or Hannibal had taken a dose of opium, or ipecac, or aspirin, the effect would have been different from that experienced today by one of you. This is what a physicist or a chemist would expect. If the action of a drug on the organism is chemical, and if neither the drug nor the organism has changed, the action must be the same. If we still desire to bring about the action and if there is no better way to do it, we must use the drug, and there is still need for the druggist. As a matter of fact, the number of drugs at your disposal today is vastly greater than ever before, largely owing to the labor, and the ingenuity, of the analytical chemist. And there are still great classes of compounds of whose existence the chemist is assured, but which he has not even had time to form, much less to investigate. Among these may lurk remedies more valuable than any at our disposal today. It does not look, at any rate, as if the druggist were going to be driven out of business from lack of stock, whether we regard quantity or variety. To what, then, must we attribute the growth of the feeling that the treatment of disease by the administration of drugs is on the decline? From the standpoint of a layman it seems to be due to two facts, or at least to have been strongly affected by them: (1) The discovery and rapid development of other therapeutic measures, such as those dependent on surgical methods, or on the use of immunizing serums, or on manipulations such as massage, or on diet, or even on mental suggestion; and (2) the very increase in the number and variety of available drugs alluded to above, which has introduced to the public many new and only partially tried substances, the results of whose use has often been unexpectedly injurious, including a considerable number of new habit-forming drugs whose ravages are becoming known to the public. The development of therapeutic measures that are independent of drugs has been coincident with popular emancipation from the mere superstition of drug-administration. The older lists of approved remedies were loaded with items that had no curative properties at all, except by suggestion. They were purely magical--the thumb-nails of executed criminals, the hair of black cats, the ashes of burned toads and so on. Even at this moment your pharmacopoeia contains scores of remedies that are without effect or that do not produce the effects credited to them. I am relying on high therapeutical authority for this statement. Now when the sick man is told by his own physician to discard angleworm poultices, and herbs plucked in the dark of the moon, on which he had formerly relied, it is any wonder that he has ended by being suspicious also of calomel and ipecac, with which they were formerly classed? And when the man who believed that he received benefit from some of these magical remedies is told that the result was due to auto-suggestion, is it remarkable that he should fall an easy prey next day to the Christian Scientist who tells him that the effects of calomel and ipecac are due to nothing else than this same suggestion? The increased use and undoubted value of special diets, serums, aseptic surgery, baths, massage, electrical treatment, radio-therapeutics, and so on, makes it easy for him to discard drugs altogether, and further, it creates, even among those who continue to use drugs, an atmosphere favorable to the belief that they are back numbers, on the road to disuse. Just here comes in the second factor to persuade the layman, from what has come under his own observation, that drugs are injurious, dangerous, even fatal. Newly discovered chemical compounds with valuable properties, have been adopted and used in medicine before the necessary time had elapsed to disclose the fact that they possessed also other properties, more elusive than the first, but as potent for harm as these were for good. Many were narcotics or valuable anesthetics, local or otherwise, which have proved to be the creators of habits more terrible than the age-long enemies of mankind, alcohol and opium. When the man whose wife takes a coal-tar derivative for headache finds that it stills her heart forever, the incident affects his whole opinion of drugs. When the patient for whom one of the new drugs has been prescribed by a practitioner without knowledge of his idiosyncrasies reacts to it fatally, it is slight consolation to his survivors that his case is described in print under the heading, "A Curious Case of Umptiol Poisoning." When a mother sees her son go to the bad by taking cocaine, or heroin, or some other drug of whose existence she was ignorant a dozen years ago, she may be pardoned for believing that all drugs, or at least all newly discovered drugs, are tools of the devil. And this feeling is intensified by one of our national faults--the tendency to jump at conclusions, to overdo things, to run from one evil to its opposite, without stopping at the harmless mean. We think we are brighter and quicker than the Englishman or the German. They think we are more superficial. Whatever name you give the quality it causes us to "catch on" sooner, to work a good thing to death more thoroughly and to drop it more quickly for something else, than any other known people, ancient or modern. Somebody devises a new form of skate roller that makes roller-skating a good sport. We find it out before anyone else and in a few months the land is plastered from Maine to California with huge skating halls or sheds. Everybody is skating at once and the roar of the rollers resounds across the oceans. We skate ourselves out in a year or two, and then the roar ceases, the sheds decay and roller-skating is once more a normal amusement. Then someone invents the safety bicycle, and in a trice all America, man, woman and child, is awheel. And we run this good horse to death, and throw his body aside in our haste to discover something new. Shortly afterward someone invents a new dance, or imports it from Spanish America, and there is hardly time to snap one's finger before we are all dancing, grandparents and children, the cook in the kitchen and the street-cleaner on the boulevard. We display as little moderation in our therapeutics. We can not get over the idea that a remedy of proved value in a particular case may be good for all others. Our proprietary medicines will cure everything from tuberculosis to cancer. If massage has relieved rheumatism, why should it not be good also for typhoid? The Tumtum Springs did my uncle's gout so much good; why doesn't your cousin try them for her headaches? And even so, drugs must be all good or bad. Many of us remember the old household remedies, tonics or laxatives or what not, with which the children were all dosed at intervals, whether they were ill or not. That was in the days when all drugs were good: when one "took something" internally for everything that happened to him. Now the pendulum has swung to the other side--that is all. If we can ever settle down to the rational way of regarding these things, we shall discover, what sensible medical men have always known, and what druggists as well as mere laymen can not afford to neglect, that there is no such thing as a panacea, and that all rational therapeutics is based on common sense study of the disease--finding out what is the cause and endeavoring to abate that cause. The cause may be such that surgery is indicated, or serum, or regulation of diet, or change of scene. It may obviously indicate the administration of a drug. I once heard a clever lawyer in a poisoning case, in an endeavor to discredit a physician, whom we shall call Dr. Jones, tell the following anecdote: (Dr. Jones, who had been called in when the victim was about to expire, had recommended the application of ice). Said the lawyer: "A workman was tamping a charge of blasting-powder with a crowbar, when the charge went off prematurely and the bar was driven through the unfortunate man's body, so that part of it protruded on either side: A local physician was summoned, and after some study he pronounced as follows: 'Now, if I let that bar stay there, you'll die. If I pull it out, you'll die. But I'll give you a pill that may melt it where it is!' In this emergency," the lawyer went on to say, "Dr. Jones doubtless would have prescribed _ice_." Now the pill to melt the crowbar may stand for our former excessive and absurd regard for drugs. The application of ice in the same emergency may likewise represent a universal resort to hydrotherapy. Neither of them is logical. There is place for each, but there are emergencies that can not be met with either. Still, to abandon one method of treatment simply because additional methods have proved to be valuable, would be as absurd as to give up talking upon the invention of writing or to prohibit the raising of corn on land that will produce wheat. No: we shall doubtless continue to use drugs and we shall continue to need the druggist. What can he do to make his business more valued and respected, more useful to the public and more profitable to himself? For there can be no doubt that he will finally succeed in attaining all these desirable results together, or fail in all. Here and there we may find a man who is making a fortune out of public credulity and ignorance, or, on the other hand, one who is giving the public more service than it pays for and ruining himself in the process; but in general and on the average personal and public interest run pretty well hand in hand. Henry Ford makes his millions because he is producing something that the people want. St. Jacob's Oil, once the most widely advertised nostrum on the continent, cost its promoters a fortune because there was nothing in it that one might not find in some other oil or grease. What then, I repeat, must the pharmacist do to succeed, personally and professionally? I welcome this opportunity to tell you what I think. My advice comes from the outside--often the most valuable source. I have so little to do with pharmacy, either as a profession or as a business that I stand far enough away to get a bird's-eye view. And if you think that any advice, based on this view, is worthless, it will be a consolation to all of us to realize that no force on earth can compel you to take it. It is doubtless too late to lament or try to resist the course of business that has gone far to turn the pharmacy into a department store. But let me urge you not to let this tendency run wild. There are side-lines that belong properly to pharmacy, such as all those pertaining to hygiene or sanitation; to the toilet, to bodily refreshment. I do not see why one should not expect to find at his pharmacist's, soap, or tooth-brushes, or sponges. I do not see why the thirsty man should not go there for mineral water as well as the dyspeptic for pills. But I fail to see the connection between pharmacy and magazines, or stationery or candy. By selling these the druggist puts himself at once into competition with the department stores. There can be no doubt about who will win out in any such competition as that. But I believe there is still a place in the community for any special line of business if its proprietor sticks to his specialty and makes himself a recognized expert in it. The department store spreads itself too thin--there is no room for intensive development at any point of its vast expanse. Its general success is due to this very fact. I am not now speaking of the rural community where there is room only for one general store selling everything that the community needs. But my statement holds good for the city and the large town. Let me illustrate by an instance in which we librarians are professionally interested--the book store. Once every town had its book-store. Now they are rare. We have few such stores even in a city of the size of St. Louis. Every department store has its book-section. They are rarely satisfactory. Everybody is lamenting the disappearance of the old book-store, with its old scholarly proprietor who knew books and the book-market; who loved books and the book-business. Quarts of ink have been wasted in trying to account for his disappearance. The Public Library, for one thing, has been blamed for it. I have no time now to disprove this, though it is very clear to me that libraries help the book trade instead of hindering it. I shall simply give you my version of the trouble. The book-dealer disappeared, as soon as he entered into competition with the department store. He put in side lines of toys, and art supplies, and cameras and candy. He began to spread himself thin and had no time for expert concentration on his one specialty. Thus he lost his one advantage over the department store--his strength in the region where it was weak; and of course he succumbed. If you will think for a moment of the special businesses that have survived the competition of the department store, you will see that they are precisely the ones that have resisted this temptation to spread themselves and have been content to remain experts. Look at the men's furnishing stores. Would they have survived if they had begun to sell cigars and lawn-mowers? Look at the retail shoe stores, the opticians, the cigar stores, the bakers, the meat markets, the confectioners, the restaurants of all grades! They have all to compete with the department stores, but their customers realize that they have something to offer that can be offered by no department store--expert service in one line, due to some one's life-long training, experience and devotion to the public. I do not want the pharmacist to go the way of the book dealers. Already some of the department stores include drug departments. I do not see how these can be as good as independent pharmacies. But I do not see the essential difference between a drug department in a store that sells also cigars and stationery and confectionery, and a so-called independent pharmacy that also distributes these very things. I am assuming that the druggist is an expert. That is the object of our colleges of pharmacy, as I understand the matter. As a librarian I want to deal with a book man who knows more of the book business than I do. I want to ask his advice and be able to rely on it. When I have printing to be done, I like to give it to a man who knows more about the printed page than I do. When I buy bread, or shoes, or a house, or a farm I like to deal with recognized experts in these articles. How much more when I am purchasing substances where expert knowledge will turn the balance between life and death. I have gossiped with pharmacists enough to know that all physicians do not avoid incompatibles in their prescriptions, and that occasionally a combination falls into the prescription clerk's hands, which, if made up as he reads it would produce a poisonous compound, or perhaps even an explosive mixture. Two heads are better than one, and if my physician ever makes a mistake of this kind I look to my pharmacist to see that it shall not reach the practical stage. I recognize the great value and service of the department store, but I do not go there for my law or medicine; neither do I care to resort thither for my pharmacy. I want our separate drug stores to persist, and I want them to remain in charge of experts. And when the store deals in other things than purely therapeutic preparations--which I have already said I think probably unavoidable,--I want it to present the aspect of a pharmacy that deals also in toilet preparations and mineral water, not of an establishment for dispensing soda-water and soap, where one may have a prescription filled on the side, in an emergency. And when the emergency does arise, I should have the pharmacy respond to it. It is the place where we naturally look in an emergency--the spot to which the victim of an accident is carried directly--the one where the lady bends her steps when she feels that she is going to faint. In hundreds of cases the drug store is our only standby, and it should be the druggist's business to see that it never fails us. There are pharmacies where a telephone message brings an unfailing response; there are others to which one would as soon think of sending an inquiry regarding a Biblical quotation. To which type, do you think, will the public prefer to resort? Then there are those little courtesies that no retail business is obliged to offer, but that the public has been accustomed to expect from the druggist--the cashing of checks, the changing of bills, the furnishing of postage stamps, the consultation of the city directory. There can be no reason for resorting to a drug store for all these favors except that the pharmacist has an enviable reputation as the man who is most likely to grant them. And yet I begin to hear druggists complaining of the results of this reputation, of which they ought to be proud; I see them pointing out that there is no profit on postage stamps and no commission for changing a bill. They intimate, further, that although it may be proper for them to put themselves out for regular customers, it is absurd for strangers to ask for these courtesies. I marvel when I hear these sentiments. If this popular impression regarding the courtesy of the druggist did not exist, it would be worth the expenditure of vast sums and the labor of a lifetime to create it. To deliberately undo it would be as foolish as to lock the door in the face of customers. I do not believe that in St. Louis the pharmaceutical profession is generally averse to a reputation for generous public service, and I base my belief on some degree of personal knowledge. The St. Louis Public Library operates about sixty delivery stations in various parts of the city. These stations are all in drug stores. The work connected with them, though light, is by no means inconsiderable, and yet not one of the druggists who undertake it charges the library a cent for his space or his services. Doubtless they expect a return from the increased attractiveness of their places to the public. I hope that they get it and I believe that they do. At any rate we have evidence here of the pharmacist's belief that the bread of public service, cast upon the waters, will sooner or later return. You will notice that I am saying nothing about advertising. One would think from the pharmaceutical papers, with which I am not unfamiliar, that the druggist's chief end was to have a sensational show window of some kind. These things are not unimportant, but I do not dwell on them because I believe that if a druggist realizes the importance of his profession; if he makes himself a recognized expert in it; if he sticks to it and magnifies it; if he makes his place indispensable to the community around him, the first point to which the citizens resort for help in an emergency, an unfailing center of courtesy and favor--he may fill his window with toilet soap, or monkeys, or with nothing at all--there will still be a trodden path up to his door. Gentlemen, you have chosen as your life work a profession that I believe to be indispensable to human welfare--one of enviable tradition and honor and with standing and reputation in the community that set it apart, in some degree from all others. And while I would not have you neglect the material success that it may bring you, I would urge you to expect this as a result rather than strive for it as an immediate end. I would have you labor to maintain and develop the special knowledge that you have gained in this institution, to hold up the standard of courtesy and helpfulness under which you can best do public service, confident that if you do these things, business standing and financial success will also be added unto you. HOW THE COMMUNITY EDUCATES ITSELF[15] [15] Read before the American Library Association, Asbury Park, N.J., June 27, 1916. In endeavoring to distinguish between self-education and education by others, one meets with considerable difficulty. If a boy reads Mill's "Political Economy'" he is surely educating himself; but if after reading each chapter he visits a class and answers certain questions propounded for the purpose of ascertaining whether he has read it at all, or has read it understandingly, then we are accustomed to transfer the credit for the educative process to the questioner, and say that the boy has been educated at school or college. As a matter of fact, I think most of us are self-educated. Not only is most of what an adult knows and can do, acquired outside of school, but in most of what he learned even there he was self-taught. His so-called teachers assigned tasks to him and saw that he performed them. If he did not, they subjected him to discipline. Once or twice in a lifetime most of us have run up against a real teacher--a man or a woman that really played a major part in shaping our minds as they now are--our stock of knowledge, our ways of thought, our methods of doing things. These men have stood and are still standing (though they may have joined the great majority long ago) athwart the stream of sensation as it passes through us, and are determining what part shall be stored up, and where; what kind of action shall ultimately result from it. The influence of a good teacher spreads farther and lasts longer than that of any other man. If his words have been recorded in books it may reach across the seas and down the ages. There is another reason why the distinction between school education and self-education breaks down. If the boy with whom we began had any teacher at all it was John Stuart Mill, and this man was his teacher whether or not his reading of the book was prescribed and tested in a class-room. I would not have you think that I would abolish schools and colleges. I wish we had more of the right kind, but the chief factor in educative acquirement will still be the pupil. So when the community educates itself, as it doubtless does and as it must do, it simply continues a process with which it has always been familiar, but without control, or under its own control. Of all the things that we learn, control is the most vital. What we are is the sum of those things that we do not repress. We begin without self-repression and have to be controlled by others. When we learn to exercise control ourselves, it is right that even our education should revert wholly to what it has long been in greater part--a voluntary process. This does not mean that at this time the pupil abandons guidance. It means that he is free to choose his own guides and the place and method of using them. Some rely wholly on experience; others are wise enough to see that life is too short and too narrow to acquire all that we need, and they set about to make use also of that acquired by others. Some of these wiser ones use only their companions and acquaintances; others read books. The wisest are opportunists; they make use of all these methods as they have occasion. Their reading does not make them avoid the exchange of ideas by conversation, nor does the acquirement of ideas in either way preclude learning daily by experience, or make reflection useless or unnecessary. He who lives a full life acquires ideas as he may, causes them to combine, change and generate in his own mind, and then translates them into action of some kind. He who omits any of these things cannot be said to have really lived. He cannot, it is true, fail to acquire ideas unless he is an idiot; but he may fail to acquire them broadly, and may even make the mistake of thinking that he can create them in his own mind. He may, however, acquire fully and then merely store without change or combination; that is, he may turn his brain into a warehouse instead of using it as a factory. And the man who has acquired broadly and worked over his raw material into a product of his own, may still stop there and never do anything. Our whole organism is subsidiary to action and he who stops short of it has surely failed to live. Our educative processes, so far, have dwelt heavily on acquirement, somewhat lightly on mental assimilation and digestion, and have left action almost untouched. In these two latter respects, especially, is the community self-educated. The fact that I am saying this here, and to you, is a sufficient guaranty that I am to lay some emphasis on the part played by books in these self-educative processes. A book is at once a carrier and a tool; it transports the idea and plants it. It is a carrier both in time and in space--the idea that it implants may be a foreign idea, or an ancient idea, or both. Either of its functions may for the moment be paramount; a book may bring to you ideas whose implantation your brain resists, or it may be used to implant ideas that are already present, as when an instructor uses his own text book. Neither of these two cases represents education in the fullest sense. You will notice that I have not yet defined education. I do not intend to try, for my time is limited. But in the course of my own educative processes, which I trust are still proceeding, the tendency grows stronger and stronger to insist on an intimate connection with reality in all education--to making it a realization that we are to do something and a yearning to be able to do it. The man who has never run up against things as they are, who has lived in a world of moonshine, who sees crooked and attempts what is impossible and what is useless--is he educated? I used to wonder what a realist was. Now that I am becoming one myself I begin dimly to understand. He certainly is not a man devoid of ideals, but they are real ideals, if you will pardon the bull. I believe that I am in goodly company. The library as I see it has also set its face toward the real. What else is meant by our business branches, our technology rooms, our legislative and municipal reference departments? They mean that slow as we may be to respond to community thought and to do our part in carrying on community education, we are vastly more sensitive than the school, which still turns up its nose at efforts like the Gary system; than the stage, which still teaches its actors to be stagy instead of natural; even than the producers of the very literature that we help to circulate, who rarely know how even to represent the conversation of two human beings as it really is. And when a great new vehicle of popular artistic expression arises, like the moving picture, those who purvey it spend their millions to build mock cities instead of to reproduce the reality that it is their special privilege to be able to show. And they hire stage actors to show off their staginess on the screen--staginess that is a thousand times more stagy because its background is of waving foliage and glimmering water, instead of the painted canvas in front of which it belongs. The heart of the community is right. Its heroine is Mary Pickford. It rises to realism as one man. The little dog who cannot pose, and who pants and wags his tail on the screen as he would anywhere else, elicits thunderous applause. The baby who puckers up its face and cries, oblivious of its environment, is always a favorite. But the trend of all this, these institutions cannot see. We librarians are seeing it a little more clearly. We may see it--we shall see it, more clearly still. The self-education of a community often depends very closely on bonds of connection already established between the minds of that community's individual members. Sometimes it depends on a sudden connection made through the agency of a single event of overwhelming importance and interest. Let me illustrate what I mean by connection of this kind. For many years it was my duty to cross the Hudson river twice daily on a crowded ferry-boat, and it used to interest me to watch the behavior of the crowds under the influence of simple impulses affecting them all alike. I am happy to say that I never had an opportunity of observing the effect of complex impulses such as those of panic terror. I used particularly to watch, from the vantage point of a stairway whence I could look over their heads, the behavior of the crowd standing in the cabin just before the boat made its landing. Each person in the crowd stood still quietly, and the tendency was toward a loose formation to ensure comfort and some freedom of movement. At the same time each was ready and anxious to move forward as soon as the landing should be made. Only those in front could see the bow of the ferryboat; the others could see nothing but the persons directly in front of them. When those in the front rank saw that the landing was very near they began to move forward; those just behind followed suit and so on to the rear. The result was that I saw a wave of compression, of the same sort as a sound-wave in air, move through the throng. The individual motions were forward but the wave moved backward. No better example of a wave of this kind could be devised. Now the actions and reactions between the air-particles in a sound wave are purely mechanical. Not so here. There was neither pushing nor pulling of the ordinary kind. Each person moved forward because his mind was fixed on moving forward at the earliest opportunity, and because the forward movement of those just in front showed him that now was the time and the opportunity. The physical link, if there was one, properly speaking, between one movement and another was something like this: A wave of light, reflected from the body of the man in front, entered the eye of the man just behind, where it was transformed into a nerve impulse that readied the brain through the optic nerve. Here it underwent complicated transformations and reactions whose nature we can but surmise, until it left the brain as a motor impulse and caused the leg muscles to contract, moving their owner forward. All this may or may not have taken place within the sphere of consciousness; in the most cases it had happened so often that it had been relegated to that of unconscious cerebration. I have entered into so much detail because I want to make it clear that a connection may be established between members of a group, even so casual a group as that of persons who happen to cross on the same ferry boat, that is so real and compelling, that its results simulate those of physical forces. In thin case the results were dependent on the existence in the crowd of one common bond of interest. They all wanted to leave the ferry boat as soon as possible, and by its bow. If some of them had wanted to stay on the boat and go back with it, or if it had been a river steamboat where landings were made from several gangways in different parts of the boat the simple wave of compression that I saw would not have been set up. In like manner the ordinary influences that act on men's minds tend in all sorts of directions and their results are not easily traced. Occasionally, however, there occurs some event so great that it turns us all in the same direction and establishes a common network of psychical connections. Such an event fosters community education. We have lately witnessed such a phenomenon in the sudden outbreak of the great European War. Probably no person in the community as we librarians know it remained unaffected by this event. In most it aroused some kind of a desire to know what was going on. It was necessary that most of us should know a little more than we did of the differences in racial temperament and aim among the inhabitants of the warring nations, of such movements as Pan-Slavism and Pan-Germanism, of the recent political history of Europe, of modern military tactics and strategy, of international law, of geography, of the pronunciation of foreign placenames, of the chemistry of explosives--of a thousand things regarding which we had hitherto lacked the impulse to inform ourselves. This sort of thing is going on in a community every day, but here was a catastrophe setting in motion a mighty brain-wave that had twisted us all in one direction. Notice now what a conspicuous role our public libraries play in phenomena of this kind. In the first place, the newspaper and periodical press reflects at once the interest that has been aroused. Where man's unaided curiosity would suggest one question it adds a hundred others. Problems that would otherwise seem simple enough now appear complex--the whole mental interest is intensified. At the same time there is an attempt to satisfy the questions thus raised. The man who did not know about the Belgian treaty, or the possible use of submarines as commerce-destroyers, has all the issues put before him with at least an attempt to settle them. This service of the press to community education would be attempted, but it would not be successfully rendered, without the aid of the public library, for it has come to pass that the library is now almost the only non-partisan institution that we possess; and community education, to be effective, must be non-partisan. The press is almost necessarily biassed. The man who is prejudiced prefers the paper or the magazine that will cater to his prejudices, inflame them, cause him to think that they are reasoned results instead of prejudices. If he keeps away from the public library he may succeed in blinding himself; if he uses it he can hardly do so. He will find there not only his own side but all the others; if he has the ordinary curiosity that is our mortal heritage he cannot help glancing at the opinions of others occasionally. No man is really educated who does not at least know that another side exists to the question on which he has already made up his mind--or had it made up for him. Further, no one is content to stop with the ordinary periodical literature. The flood of books inspired by this war is one of the most astonishing things about it. Most libraries are struggling to keep up with it in some degree. Very few of these books would be within the reach of most of us were it not for the library. I beg you to notice the difference in the reaction of the library to this war and that of the public school as indicative of the difference between formal educative processes, as we carry them on, and the self-education of the community. I have emphasized the freedom of the library from bias. The school is necessarily biassed--perhaps properly so. You remember the story of the candidate for a district school who, when asked by an examining committee-man whether the earth was round or flat, replied, "Well, some says one and some t'other. I teach either round or flat, as the parents wish." Now, there are books that maintain the flatness of the earth, and they properly find a place on the shelves of large public libraries. Those who wish to compare the arguments pro and con are at liberty to do so. Even in such a _res adjudicata_ as this the library takes no sides. But in spite of the obliging school candidate, the school cannot proceed in this way. The teaching of the child must be definite. And there are other subjects, historical ones for instance, in which the school's attitude may be determined by its location, its environment, its management. When it is a public school and its controlling authority is really trying to give impartial instruction there are some subjects that must simply be skipped, leaving them to be covered by post-scholastic community education. This is the school's limitation. Only the policy of caution is very apt to be carried too far. Thus we find that in the school the immense educational drive of the European War has not been utilized as it has in the community at large. In some places the school authorities have erected a barrier against it. So far as they are concerned the war has been non-existent. This difference between the library and the school appears in such reports as the following from a branch librarian: "Throughout the autumn and most of the winter we found it absolutely impossible to supply the demand for books about the war. Everything we had on the subject or akin to it--books, magazines, pamphlets--were in constant use. Books of travel and history about the warring countries became popular--things that for years had been used but rarely became suddenly vitally interesting. "I have been greatly interested by the fact that the high school boys and girls never ask for anything about the war. Not once during the winter have I seen in one of them a spark of interest in the subject. It seems so strange that it should be necessary to keep them officially ignorant of this great war because the grandfather of one spoke French and of another German." Another librarian says: "The war again has naturally stimulated an interest in maps. With every turn in military affairs, new ones are issued and added to our collection. These maps, as received, have been exhibited for short periods upon screens and they have never lacked an appreciative line of spectators, representing all nationalities." One noticeable effect of the war in libraries has been to stimulate the marking of books, periodicals and newspapers by readers, especially in periodical rooms. Readers with strong feelings cannot resist annotating articles or chapters that express opinions in which they cannot concur. Pictures of generals or royalties are especially liable to defacement with opprobrious epithets. This feeling extends even to bulletins. Libraries receive strenuous protests against the display of portraits and other material relating to one of the contesting parties without similar material on the other side to offset it. "Efforts to be strictly neutral have not always met with success, some readers apparently regarding neutrality as synonymous with suppression of everything favorable to the opposite side. One library reports that the display of an English military portrait called forth an energetic protest because it was not balanced by a German one." Such manifestations as these are merely symptoms. The impulse of the war toward community education is a tremendous one and it is not strange that it should find an outlet in all sorts of odd ways. The German sympathizer who would not ordinarily think of objecting to the display of an English portrait, and in fact would probably not think of examining it closely enough to know whether it was English or Austrian, has now become alert. His alertness makes him open to educative influences, but it may also show itself in such ways as that just noted. Keeping the war out of the schools is of course a purely local phenomenon, to be deprecated where it occurs. The library can do its part here also. "G. Stanley Hall believes that the problem of teaching the war is how to utilize in the very best way the wonderful opportunity to open, see and feel the innumerable and vital lessons involved." Commenting on this a children's librarian says: "The unparalleled opportunity offered to our country, and the new complex problems presented by these new conditions should make the children's librarian pause and take heed. "Can we do our part toward using the boy's loyalty to his gang or his nine, his love of his country, his respect for our flag, his devotion to our heroes, in developing a sense of human brotherhood which alone can prevent or delay in the next generation another such catastrophe as the one we face to-day?" Exclusion of the war from the schools is partly the outcome of the general attitude of most of our schoolmen, who object to the teaching of a subject as an incidental. Arithmetic must be studied for itself alone. To absorb it as a by-product of shop-work, as is done in Gary, is inadmissible. But it is also a result of the fear that teaching the war at all would necessarily mean a partisan teaching of it--a conclusion which perhaps we cannot condemn when we remember the partisan instruction in various other subjects for which our schools are responsible. Again, this exclusion is doubtless aided by the efforts of some pacifists, who believe that, ostrich-like, we should hide our heads in the sand, to avoid acknowledging the existence of something we do not like. "Why war?" asks a recent pamphlet. Why, indeed? But we may ask in turn "Why fire?" "Why flood?" I cannot answer these questions, but it would be foolish to act as if the scourges did not exist. Nay, I hasten to insure myself against them, though the possibility that they will injure me is remote. This ultra-pacifist attitude has gone further than school education and is trying to put the lid on community education also. Objection, for instance, has been made to an exhibit of books, prints and posters about the war, which was displayed in the St. Louis Public Library for nearly two months. We intended to let it stand for about a week, but the public would not allow this. The community insists on self-education even against the will of its natural allies. The contention that we are cultivating the innate blood-thirstiness of our public, I regard as absurd. What can we do toward generating or taking advantage of other great driving impulses toward community education? Must we wait for the horrors of a great war to teach us geography, industrial chemistry and international law? Is it necessary to burn down a house every time we want to roast a pig? Certainly not. But just as one would not think of bringing on any kind of a catastrophe in order to utilize its shock for educational purposes, so also I doubt very much whether we need concern ourselves about the initiation of any impulse toward popular education. These impulses exist everywhere in great number and variety and we need only to select the right one and reinforce it. Attempts to generate others are rarely effective. When we hear the rich mellow tone of a great organ pipe, it is difficult to realize that all the pipe does is to reinforce a selected tone among thousands of indistinguishable noises made by the air rushing through a slit and striking against an edge. Yet this is the fact. These incipient impulses permeate the community all about us; all we have to do is to select one, feed it and give it play and we shall have an "educational movement." This fact is strongly impressed upon anyone working with clubs. If it is desired to foster some movement by means of an organization, it is rarely necessary to form one for the purpose. Every community teems with clubs, associations and circles. All that is needed is to capture the right one and back it up. Politicians well understand this art of capture and use it often for evil purposes. In the librarian's hands it becomes an instrument for good. Better than to offer a course of twenty lectures under the auspices of the library is it to capture a club, give it house-room, and help it with its program. I am proud of the fact that in fifteen public rooms in our library, about four thousand meetings are held in the course of the year; but I am inclined to be still prouder of the fact that not one of these is held formally under the auspices of the library or is visibly patronized by it. To go back to our thesis, all education is self-education; we can only select, guide and strengthen, but when we have done these things adequately, we have done a very great work indeed. What is true of assemblies and clubs is also true of the selection and use of books. A book purchased in response to a demand is worth a dozen bought because the librarian thinks the library ought to have them. The possibilities of free suggestion by the community are, it seems to me, far from realized, yet even as it is, I believe that librarians have an unexampled opportunity of feeling out promising tendencies in this great flutter of educational impulses all about us, and so of selecting the right ones and helping them on. Almost while I have been writing this I have been visited by a delegate from the foundrymen's club--an organization that wants more books on foundry practice and wants them placed together in a convenient spot. Such a visit is of course a heaven-sent opportunity and I suppose I betrayed something of my pleasure in my manner. My visitor said, "I am so glad you feel this way about it; we have been meaning for some time to call on you, but we were in doubt about how we should be received." Such moments are humiliating to the librarian. Great heavens! Have we advertised, discussed, talked and plastered our towns with publicity, only to learn at last that the spokesman of a body of respectable men, asking legitimate service, rather expects to be kicked downstairs than otherwise when he approaches us? Is our publicity failing in quantity or in quality? Whatever may be the matter, it is in response to demands like this that the library must play its part in community education. Here as elsewhere it is the foundrymen who are the important factors--their attitude, their desires, their capabilities. Our function is that of the organ pipe--to pick out the impulse, respond to it and give it volume and carrying power. The community will educate itself whether we help or not. It is permeated by lines of intelligence as the magnetic field is by lines of force. Thrust in a bit of soft iron and the force-lines will change their direction in order to pass through the iron. Thrust a book into the community field, and its lines of intelligence will change direction in order to take in the contents of the book. If we could map out the field we should see great masses of lines sweeping through our public libraries. All about us we see men who tell us that they despair of democracy; that at any rate, whatever its advantages, democracy can never be "efficient." Efficient for what? Efficiency is a relative quality, not absolute. A big German howitzer would be about as inefficient a tool as could be imagined, for serving an apple-pie. Beside, democracy is a goal; we have not reached it yet; we shall never reach it if we decide that it is undesirable. The path toward it is the path of Nature, which leads through conflicts, survivals, and modifications. Part of it is the path of community education, which I believe to be efficient in that it is leading on toward a definite goal. Part of Nature is man, with his desires, hopes and abilities. Some men, and many women, are librarians, in whom these desires and hopes have definite aims and in whom the corresponding abilities are more or less developed. We are all thus cogs in Nature's great scheme for community education; let us be intelligent cogs, and help the movement on instead of hindering it. CLUBWOMEN'S READING I--_The Malady_ A well-dressed woman entered the Art Department of a large public library. "Have you any material on the Medici?" she asked the custodian. "Yes; just what kind of material do you want?" "Stop a minute," cried the woman, extending a detaining hand; "before you get me anything, just tell me what they are!" Librarians are trained not to laugh. No one could have detected the ghost of a smile on this one's face as she lifted the "M" volume of a cyclopedia from a shelf and placed it on the table before the seeker after knowledge. "There; that will tell you," she said, and returned to her work. Not long afterward she was summoned by a beckoning finger. "I can't tell from this book," said the perplexed student, "whether the Medici were a family or a race of people." The Art Librarian tried to untie this knot, but it was not long before another presented itself. "This book doesn't explain," said the troubled investigator, "whether the Medici were Florentines or Italians." Still without a quiver, the art assistant emitted the required drop of information. "Shan't I get you something more now?" she asked. "Oh, no; this will be quite sufficient," and taking out pencil and paper the inquirer began to write rapidly with the cyclopedia propped before her. Presently, when the Art Librarian looked up, her guest had disappeared. But she was on hand the next morning. "May I see that book again?" she asked sweetly. "There are some words here in my copy that I can't quite make out." On another occasion a reader, of the same sex, wandered into the reading-room and began to gaze about her with that peculiar sort of perplexed aimlessness that librarians have come to recognise instinctively as an index to the wearer's state of mind. "Have you anything on American travels?" she asked. "Do you mean travels in America, or travels by Americans in foreign countries?" "Well; I don't know--exactly." "Do you want books like Dickens's _American Notes_, that give a foreigner's impression of this country?" "Ye-es--possibly." "Or books like Hawthorne's _Note Book_, telling how a foreign country appears to an American?" "We-ell; perhaps." "Are you following a programme of reading?" "Yes." "May I see it? That may give me a clue." "I haven't a copy here." "Can you give me the name of the person or committee who made it?" "Oh, I _made_ it _myself_." This was a "facer"; the librarian seemed to have brought up against a stone wall, but she waited, knowing that a situation, unlike a knot, will sometimes untie itself. The seeker after knowledge also waited for a time. Then she broke out animatedly: "Why, I just wanted American travels, don't you know? Funny little stories and things about the sort of Americans that go abroad with a bird-cage!" Just what books were given to her I do not know; but in due time her interesting paper before the Olla Podrida Club was properly noticed in the local papers. In another case a perplexed club-woman came to a library for aid in making a programme of reading. "Have you some ideas about the subject you want to take up?" asked the reference assistant. "Well, we had thought of England, or perhaps Scotland; and some of us would like the Elizabethan Period." The assistant, after some faithful work, produced a list of books and articles on each of these somewhat comprehensive subjects and sent them to the reader for selection. "Which did you finally take?" she asked when the inquirer next visited the library. "Oh, they were so good, we decided to use all of them this year!" The writer is no pessimist. These stories which are as true, word for word, as any tales not taken down by a stenographer (and far more so than some that are) seemed to throw the persons who told them into a sort of dumb despair, but I hastened to reassure them. I pointed out that the inquirers after knowledge had, beyond all doubt, obtained some modicum of what they wanted. If the lady in the first tale, for instance, had mistakenly supposed that the Medici were a new kind of dance or something to eat, she surely has been disabused. And her cyclopedia article was probably as well written as most of its kind, so that a literal transcript of it could have done no harm either to the copyist or to her clubmates. And the paper on "American Travels," and the combined lists on England, Scotland and the Elizabethan Period; did not those who laboured on them, or with them, acquire information in the process? Most assuredly! Still, I must confess that, in advancing these arguments, I feel somewhat like an _advocatus diaboli_. It is all very well to treat the puzzled clubwoman as a joke. When a man slips on a banana-peel and goes down, we may laugh at his plight; but suppose the whole crowd of passers-by began to pitch and slide and tumble! Should we not think that some horrible epidemic had laid its hand on us? The ladies with their Medici and their Travels are not isolated instances. Ask the librarians; they know, but in countless instances they do not tell, for fear of casting ridicule upon the hundreds of intelligent clubwomen whom they are proud to help. In many libraries there is a standing rule against repeating or discussing the errors and slips of the public, especially to the ever hungry reporter. I break this rule here with equanimity, and even with a certain degree of hope, for my object is to awaken my readers to the knowledge that part of the reading public is suffering from a malady of some kind. Later I may try my hand at diagnosis and even at therapeutics. And I am taking as an illustration chiefly the reading done by women's clubs, not because men do not do reading of the same kind, or because it is not done by individuals as well as by groups; but because, just at the present time, women in general, and clubwomen in particular, seem especially likely to be attacked by the disease. It must be remembered also that I am writing from the standpoint of the public library, and I here make humble acknowledgement of the fact that many things in the educational field, both good and bad, go on quite outside of that institution and beyond its ken. The intellectual bonds between the library and the woman's club have always been close. Many libraries are the children of such clubs; many clubs have been formed in and by libraries. If any mistakes are being made in the general policies and programmes of club reading, the librarian would naturally be the first to know it, and he ought to speak out. He does know it, and his knowledge should become public property at once. But, I repeat, although the trouble is conspicuous in connection with the reading of women's clubs, it is far more general and deeply rooted than this. The malady's chief symptom, which is well known to all librarians, is a lack of correspondence between certain readers and the books that they choose. Reading, like conversation, is the meeting of two minds. If there is no contact, the process fails. If the cogs on the gearwheels do not interact, the machine can not work. If the reader of a book on algebra does not understand arithmetic; if he tackles a philosophical essay on the representative function without knowing what the phrase means; if he tries to read a French book without knowing the language, his mind is not fitted for contact with that of the writer, and the mental machinery will not move. In the early days of the Open Shelf, before librarians had realised the necessity of copious assignments to "floor duty," and before there were children's librarians, I saw in a branch library a small child staggering under the weight of a volume of Schaff's _History of the Christian Church_, which he had taken from the shelves and was presenting at the desk to be charged. "You are not going to read that, are you?" said the desk assistant. "It isn't for me; it's for me big brudder." "What did your big brother ask you to get?" "Oh, a Physiology!" Nowadays, our well-organised children's rooms make such an occurrence doubtful with the little ones, but apparently there is much of it with adults. Too much of our reading--I should rather say our attempts at reading--is of this character. Such attempts are the result of a tendency to regard the printed page as a fetich--to think that if one knows his alphabet and can call the printed words one after another as his eye runs along the line, some unexplained good will result, or at least that he has performed a praiseworthy act, has "accumulated merit" somehow or somewhere, like a Thibetan with his prayer-wheel. It is probably a fact that if a man should meet you in the street and say, "In beatific repentance lies jejune responsibility," you would stare at him and pass him by, or perhaps flee from him as from a lunatic; whereas if you saw these words printed in a book you might gravely study them to ascertain their meaning, or still worse, might succeed in reading your own meaning into them. The words I have strung together happen to have no meaning, but the result would be the same if they meant something that was hidden from the reader by his inability to understand them, no matter what the cause of that inability might be. This malady is doubtless spontaneous in some degree, and dependent on failings of the human mind that we need not discuss here, but there are signs that it is being fostered, spread, and made more acute by special influences. Probably our educational methods are not altogether blameless. The boy who trustfully approached a Reference Librarian and said, "I have to write a composition on what I saw between home and school; have you got a book about that?" had doubtless been taught that he must look in a book for everything. The conscientious teacher who was now trying to separate him from his notion may have been the very one who, perhaps unconsciously, had instilled it; if so, her fault had thus returned to plague her. The boy or girl who comes to attach a sacredness or a wizardry to the book in itself will naturally believe, after a little, that whether he understands what is in it matters little--and this is the malady of which we have been complaining. A college teacher of the differential calculus, in a time now happily long past, when a pupil timidly inquired the reason for this or that, was wont to fix the interrogator with his eye and say, "Sir; it is so because the book says so!" Even in more recent days a well-known university teacher, accustomed to use his own text-book, used to say when a student had ventured to vary its classic phraseology, "It can not be expressed better than in the words of the book!?" These instances, of course, are taken from the dark ages of education, but even to-day I believe that a false idea of the value of a printed page merely as print--not as the record of a mind, ready to make contact with the mind of a reader--has impressed itself too deeply on the brains of many children at an age when such impressions are apt to be durable. Not that the schools are especially at fault; we have all played our part in this unfortunate business. It might all fade, at length; we all know that many good teachings of our childhood do vanish; why should not the bad ones occasionally follow suit? But now come in all the well-meaning instructors of the adult--the Chautauquans, the educational extensionists, the lecturers, the correspondence schools, the advisers of reading, the makers of booklists, the devisers of "courses." They deepen the fleeting impression and increase its capacity for harm, while varying slightly the mechanism that produced it. As the child grows into a man, his childish idea that a book will produce a certain effect independently of what it contains is apt to yield a little to reason. The new influences, some of which I have named above, do not attempt directly to combat this dawning intelligence; they utilise it to complete the mental discomfiture of their victims. They admit the necessity of comprehending the contents of the book, but they persuade the reader that such comprehension is easier than it really is. And they often administer specially concocted tabloids that convince one that he knows more than he really does. Thus the unsuspecting adult goes on reading what he does not understand, not now thinking that it does not matter, but falsely persuaded that he has become competent to understand. Every one of the agencies that I have named aims to do good educational work; every one is competent to do such work; nearly every one does much of it. I am finding fault with them only so far as they succeed in persuading readers that they are better educated than they really are. In this respect such agencies are precisely on a par with the proprietary medicine that is an excellent laxative or sudorific, but is offered also as a cure for tuberculosis or cancer. I once heard the honoured head of a famous body that does an enormous amount of work of this sort deliver an _apologia_, deserving of all attention, in which he complained that his institution had been falsely accused of superficiality. It was, he said, perfectly honest in what it taught. If its pupils thought that the elementary knowledge they were gaining was comprehensive and thorough, that was their fault--not his. And vet, at that moment, the institution was posing before its pupils as a "university" and using the forms and nomenclature of such a body to strengthen the idea in their minds. We cannot acquit it, or any of the agencies like it, of complicity in the causation of the malady whose symptoms we are discussing. It is not the fault of the women's clubs that they have fallen into line in such an imposing procession as this. Their formation and work constitute one of the most interesting and important manifestations of the present feminist movement. Their rôle in it is partly social, partly educational; and as they consist of adults, elementary education is of course excluded from their programme. We therefore find them committed, perhaps unconsciously, to the plan of required or recommended reading, in a form that has long been the bane of our educational systems both in school and out. One of the corner-stones of this system is the idea that the acquisition of information is valuable in itself, no matter what may be the relationship between it and the acquiring mind, or what use of it may be made in the future. According to this idea, if a woman can once get into her head that the Medici were a family and not "a race of people," it matters little that she is unfitted to comprehend why they are worth reading about at all, or that the fact has nothing to do with what she has ever done or is likely to be called upon to do in the future. That the members of these clubs are willing to pursue knowledge under these hampering conditions is of course a point in their favour, so far as it goes. A desire for knowledge is never to be despised, even when it is not entertained for its own sake. And a secondary desire may often be changed into a primary one, if the task is approached in the right way. The possibility of such a transformation is a hopeful feature of the present situation. The reading that is done by women in connection with club work is of several different types. In the simplest organisations, which are reading clubs pure and simple, a group of books, roughly equal in number to the membership, is taken and passed around until each person has read them all. There is no connection between them, and each volume is selected simply on some one's statement that it is a "good book." A step higher is the club where the books are on one general subject, selected by some one who has been asked to prescribe a "course of reading." By easy gradations we arrive at the final stage, where the reading is of the nature of investigation and its outcome is an essay. A subject is decided on at the beginning of the season. The programme committee selects several phases of it and assigns each to a member, who prepares her essay and reads it to the club at one of the stated meetings. In this case the reading to be done in preparation for writing the essay may or may not be guided by the committee. In many cases, where the local public library cooperates actively with the clubs, a list may be made out by the librarian and perhaps printed, with due acknowledgment, in the club's year book. No one can doubt, in looking over typical programmes and lists among the thousands that represent the annual reading of the women's clubs throughout the United States, that a serious and sustained effort is being made to introduce the intellect, as an active factor, into the lives of thousands of women--lives where hitherto it has played little part, whether they are millionaires or near paupers, workers or idlers. With this aim there must be frill measure of sympathy, but I fear we can commend it only in the back-handed fashion in which a great authority on sociology recently commended the Socialists. "If sympathy with what they are trying to do, as opposed to the way in which they are trying to do it, makes one a Socialist," said the Professor, "then I am a Socialist." Here also we may sympathise with the aim, but the results are largely dependent on the method; and that method is the offspring of ignorance and inefficiency. The results may be summed up in one word--superficiality. I have elsewhere warned readers not to think that this word means simply a slight knowledge of a subject. A slight knowledge is all that most of us possess, or need to possess, about most subjects. I know a little about Montenegro for instance--something of its origin and relationships, its topography, the names and characteristics of a city or two, the racial and other peculiarities of its inhabitants. Yet I should cut a poor figure indeed in an examination on Montenegrin history, geography or government. Is my knowledge "superficial"? It could not properly be so stigmatised unless I should pose as an authority on Montenegro, or unless my opportunities to know about the country had been so great that failure to take advantage of them should argue mental incapacity. The trouble with the reading-lists and programmes of our women's clubs, inherited in some degree from our general educational methods, is that they emphasise their own content and ignore what they do not contain, to such an extent that those who use them remain largely in ignorance of the fact that the former bears a very small proportion indeed to the latter. It was once my duty to act as private tutor in algebra and geometry to a young man preparing for college. He was bright and industrious, but I found that he was under the impression that when he had gone to the end of his text-books in those two subjects he would have mastered, not only all the algebra and geometry, but all the mathematics, that the world held in store. And when this story has been told in despair to some very intelligent persons they have commented: "Well, there isn't much more, is there?" The effort of the text-book writer, as well as that of the maker of programmes, lists, and courses, appears to have been to produce what he calls a "well-rounded" effect; in other words, to make the student think that the whole subject--in condensed form perhaps, but still the whole--lies within what he has turned out. Did you ever see a chemistry that gave, or tried to give, an idea of the world of chemical knowledge that environs its board cover? One has to become a Newton before he feels, with that sage, like a child, playing on the sands, with the great, unexplored ocean of knowledge stretching out before him. Most students are rather like ducks in a barn-yard puddle, quite sure that they are familiar with the whole world and serene in that knowledge. Most writers of text-books would indignantly deny that this criticism implies a fault. It is none of their business, they would say, to call attention to what is beyond their scope. So be it. Unfortunately, every one feels in the same way and so the horizon of our women's clubs is that of the puddle instead of the ocean. It is a most interesting fact in this connection that there exist certain organisations which make a business of furnishing clubwomen with information for their papers. I have heard this service described as a "godsend," to clubs in small places where there are no libraries, or where the libraries are poorly equipped with books and _personnel_. But, if I am correctly informed, the service does not stop with the supply of raw material; it goes on to the finished product, and the perplexed lady who is required to read a paper on "Melchisedek" or on "Popular Errors Regarding the Theory of Groups," may for an adequate fee, or possibly even for an inadequate one, obtain a neatly typewritten manuscript on the subject, ready to read. This sort of thing is not at all to be wondered at. It has gone on since the dawn of time with college theses, clergymen's sermons, the orations and official papers of statesmen. Whenever a man is confronted with an intellectual task that he dare not shirk, and yet has not the intellect or the interest to perform, the first thing he thinks of is to hire some one to do it for him, and this demand has always been great enough and widespread enough to make it profitable for some one to organise the supply on a commercial basis. What interests us in the present case is the fact that its existence in the woman's club affords an instant clue to the state of mind of many of its members. They have this in common with the plagiarising pupil, clergyman, or statesman--they are called upon to do something in which they have only a secondary interest. The minister who reads a sermon on the text "Thou Shalt Not Steal," and considers that the fact that he has paid five dollars for it will absolve him from the charge of inconsistency, does not--cannot--feel any desire to impress his congregation with a desire for right living--he wants only to hold his job. The university student who, after ascertaining that there is no copyable literature in the Library on "Why I Came to College," pays a classmate a dollar to give this information to the Faculty, cares nothing about the question; but he does care to avoid discipline. So the clubwoman who reads a purchased essay on "Ireland in the Fourteenth Century," has not the slightest interest in the subject; but she does want to remain a member of her club, in good and regular standing. It is the same substitution of adventitious for natural motives and stimuli that works intellectual havoc from the mother's knee up to the Halls of Congress. When I assert boldly that at the present time the majority of vague and illogical readers are women, and that women's clubs are responsible for much of that kind of reading, I shall doubtless incur the displeasure of the school of feminists who seem bent on minimising the differences between the two sexes. Obvious physical differences they have not been able to explain away, and to deny that corresponding mental differences exist is to shut one's eyes to all the teachings of modern physiology. The mental life is a function, not of the brain alone, but of the whole nervous system of which the brain is but the principal ganglion. Cut off a man's legs, and you have removed something from his mental, as well as from his physical equipment. That men and women should have minds of the same type is a physiological impossibility. A familiar way of stating the difference is to say that in the man's mind reason predominates, in the woman's, intuition. There is doubtless something to be said for this statement of the distinction, but it is objectionable because it is generally interpreted to mean--quite unnecessarily--that a woman's mind is inferior to a man's--a distinction about as foolish as it would be to say the negative electricity is inferior to positive, or cold to heat. The types are in most ways supplementary, and a combination of the two has always been a potent intellectual force--one of the strongest arguments for marriage as an institution. When we try to do the work of the world with either type alone we have generally made a mess of it. And the outcome seems to make it probable that the female type is especially prone to become the prey of fallacies like that which has brought about the present flood of useless, or worse than useless, reading. I shall doubtless be asked whether I assert that one type of mind belongs always to the man and one to the woman. By no means. I do not even lay emphasis on the necessity of naming the two types "male" and "female." All I say is that the types exist--with those intermediate cases that always bother the classifier--and that the great majority of men possess one type and the great majority of women the other. It is possible that differences of training may have originated or at least emphasised the types; it is possible that future training may obliterate the lines that separate them, but I do not believe it. I am even afraid of trying the experiment, for there is reason to believe that its success in the mental field might react unfavourably on those physical differences on which the future of the race depends. We may have gone too far in this direction already; else why the feverish anxiety of the girls' colleges to prove that their graduates are marrying and bearing children? The fact is that the problem of the education of the sexes is not yet solved. Educating one sex alone didn't work; neither, I believe, does the present plan of educating both alike, whether in the same institution, or separately. II--_A Diagnosis_ Reading, like conversation, is, or ought to be, a contact between two minds. The difference is that while one may talk only with his contemporaries and neighbours one may read the words of a writer far distant both in time and space. It is no wonder, perhaps, that the printed word has become a fetish, but fetishes of any kind are not in accordance with the spirit of the age, and their veneration should be discouraged. Reading in which the contact of minds is of secondary importance, or even cuts no figure at all, is meaningless and valueless. In a previous paper, reasons have been given for believing that reading of this kind is peculiarly prevalent among the members of women's clubs. The value of these organisations is so great, and the services that they have rendered to women, and through them to the general cause of social betterment, are so evident, that it seems well worth while to examine the matter a little more closely, and to complete a diagnosis based on the study of the symptoms that have already presented themselves. As most of the reading done in connection with clubs is in preparation for the writing and reading of papers, we may profitably, perhaps, direct our attention to this phase of the subject. Most persons will agree, probably, that the average club paper is not notably worth while. It is written by a person not primarily and vitally interested in the subject, and it is read to an assemblage most of whom are similarly devoid of interest--the whole proceeding being more or less perfunctory. Could it be expected that reading done in connection with such a performance should be valuable? This is worth pondering, because it is a fact that almost all the vital informative literature that is produced at first hand sees the light in connection with clubs and associations--bodies that publish journals, "transactions" or "proceedings" for the especial purpose of printing the productions of their members. This literature, for the most part, does not come to the notice of the general reader. The ordinary books on the technical subjects of which it treats are not raw material, but a manufactured product--compilations from the original sources. And the pity of it is that very many of them, often the best of them from a purely literary point of view, are so unsatisfactory, viewed from the point of view of accomplishment. They do not do what they set out to do; they are full of misunderstandings, misinterpretations, interpolations and omissions. It is the old story; those who know won't tell and the task is assumed by those who are eminently able to tell, but don't know. The scientific expert despises the public, which is forced to get its information through glib but ignorant expounders. This is a digression, but it may serve to illuminate the situation, which is that the authoritative literature of special subjects sees the light almost wholly in the form of papers, read before clubs and associations. Evidently there is nothing in the mere fact that a paper is to be read before a club, to make it trivial or valueless. Yet how much that is of value to the world first saw the light in a paper read before a woman's club? How much original thought, how much discovery, how much invention, how much inspiration, is put into their writing and emanates from their reading? There must be a fundamental difference of some kind between the constitution and the methods of these two kinds of clubs. A study of this difference will throw light on the kind of reading that must be done in connection with each and may explain, in great part, why the reading done for women's club-papers is what it is. A scientific or technical society exists largely for the purpose of informing its members of the original work that is being done by each of them. When anyone has accomplished such work or has made such progress that he thinks an account of what he has done would be interesting, he sends a description of it to the proper committee, which decides whether it shall be read and discussed at a meeting, or published in the Proceedings, or both, or neither. The result depends on the size of the membership, on its activity, and on the value of its work. It may be that the programme committee has an embarrassment of riches from which to select, or that there is poverty instead. But in no case does it arrange a programme. The Physical Society, if that is its name and subject, does not decide that it will devote the meetings of the current season to a consideration of Radio-activity and assign to specified members the reading of papers on Radio-active springs, the character of Radium Emanation, and so on. If it did, it would doubtless get precisely the same results that we are complaining of in the case of the Woman's Club. A man whose specialty is thermodynamics might be told off to prepare a paper on Radio-active Elements in Rocks--a subject in which he is not interested. He could have nothing new nor original to say on the subject and his paper would be a mere compilation. It would not even be a good compilation, for his interest and his skill would lie wholly in another direction. The good results that the society does get are wholly dependent on the fact that each writer is full of new information that he desires, above all things, to communicate to his fellow-members. In the preparation of such a paper, one needs, of course, to read, and often to read widely. Much of the reading will be done in connection with the work described, or even before it is begun. No one wishes to undertake an investigation that has already been made by someone else, and so the first thing that a competent investigator does is to survey his field and ascertain what others have accomplished in it. This task is by no means easy, for such information is often hidden in journals and transactions that are difficult to reach, and the published indexes of such material, though wonderfully advanced on the road toward perfection in the past twenty years, have yet far to travel before they reach it. Not only the writer's description of what he has done or ascertained, but the character of the work itself; the direction it takes--the inferences that he draws from it, will be controlled and coloured by what he reads of others' work. And even if he finds it easy to ascertain what has been done and to get at the published accounts and discussions of it, the mass may be so great that he has laid out for him a course of reading that may last many months. But mark the spirit with which he attacks it! He is at work on something that seems to him supremely worth while. He is labouring to find out truth, to dissipate error, to help his fellow-men to know something or to do something. The impulse to read, and to read much and thoroughly, is so powerful that it may even need judicious repression. The difference between this kind of reading and that done in the preparation of a paper to fill a place in a set programme hardly needs emphasis. The preparation of papers for professional and technical societies has been dwelt upon at such length, because I see no reason why the impulse to reading that it furnishes cannot also be placed at the disposal of the woman's club; and I shall have some suggestions toward this end in a future article. Meanwhile, I shall doubtless be told that it is unfair to compare the woman's club, with its didactic aim, and the scientific association of trained and interested investigators. It is true that we have plenty of clubs--some of men alone, some of both sexes--whose object is to listen to interesting and instructive papers on a set subject, often forming part of a pre-arranged programme. These, however, need our attention here only so far as the papers are prepared by members of the club, and in this case they are in precisely the same class as the woman's club. In many cases, however, the paper is merely the excuse for a social gathering, perhaps at a dinner or a luncheon. Of course if the paper or lecture is by an expert invited to give it, the case falls altogether outside of the region that we are exploring. I am condemning here all clubs, formed for an avowed educational or cultural purpose, that adopt set programmes and assign the subjects to their own members. I am deploring the kind of reading to which this leads, the kind of papers that are prepared in this way, and the kind of thought and action that are the inevitable outcome. It would seem that the women's clubs now form an immense majority of all organisations of this kind and that there are reasons for warning women that they are specially prone to this kind of mistake. The diversity of interests of the average man, the wideness of his contacts--the whole tradition of his sex--tends to minimise the injury that may be done to him, intellectually and spiritually, by anything of this kind. The very fact that he is the woman's inferior spiritually, and in many cases, in intellect, also--although probably not at the maximum--relieves him, in great part, of the odium attaching to the error that has been described. Women are becoming keenly alive to the deficiencies of their sex-tradition; they are trying to broaden their intellectual contacts--that is the great modern feminist movement. Some of those who are active in it are making two mistakes--they are ignoring the differences between the sexes and they are trying to substitute revolution for evolution. In this latter error they are in very good company--hardly one of the great and the good has not made it, at some time and in some way. Revolution is always the outcome of a mistake. The mistake may be antecedent and irrevocable, and the revolution therefore necessary, but this is rarely the case. The revolutionist runs a risk common to all who are in a hurry--he may break the object of his attention instead of moving it. When he wants to hand you a dish he hits it with a ball-bat. Taking a reasonable amount of time is better in the long run. That there is no royal road to knowledge has long been recognised. The trouble with most of us is that we have interpreted this to mean that the acquisition of knowledge must always be a distasteful process. On the contrary, the vivid interest that is the surest guide to knowledge is also the surest smoother of the path. Given the interest that lures the student on, and he will spend years in surmounting rocks and breaking through thorny jungles, realising their difficulties perhaps, but rejoicing the more when those difficulties prove no obstacles. The fact that the first step toward accomplishment is to create an interest has long been recognised, but attempts have been made too often to do it by devious ways, unrelated to the matter in hand. Students have been made to study history or algebra by offering prizes to the diligent and by threatening the slothful with punishment. More indirect rewards and punishments abound in all our incitements to effort and need not be mentioned here. They may often be effective, but the further removed they are from direct personal interest in the subject, the weaker and the less permanent is the result. You may offer a boy a dollar to learn certain facts in English history, but those facts will not be fixed so well or so lastingly in his mind as those connected with his last year's trip to California, which he remembers easily without offer of reward or threat of punishment. The interest in the facts gathered by reading in connection with the average club paper is merely the result of a desire to remain in good standing by fulfilling the duties of membership; and these duties may be fulfilled with slight effort and no direct interest, as we have already seen. If interest were present even at the inception of the programme, something would be gained; but in too many cases it is not. The programme committee must make some kind of a programme, but what it is to be they know little and care less. Two women recently entered a branch library and asked the librarian, who was busy charging books at the desk, what two American dramatists she considered "foremost." This was followed by the request, "Please tell me the two best plays of each of them." A few minutes later the querists returned and asked the same question about English dramatists, and still later about German, Russian, Italian and Spanish writers of the drama. Each time they eagerly wrote down the information and then retired to the reading-room for a few minutes' consultation. Finally they propounded a question that was beyond the librarian's knowledge, and then she asked why they wanted to know. "We are making out the programme for our next year's study course in the Blank Club," was the answer. "But you mustn't take my opinion as final," protested the scandalised librarian. "You ought to read up everything you can find about dramatists. I may have left out the most important ones." "This will do nicely," said the club-woman, as she folded her sheets of paper. And it did--whether nicely or not deponent saith not? but it certainly constituted the club programme. On another occasion a clubwoman entered the library and said with an air of importance, "I want your material on Susanna H. Brown." The librarian had never heard of Susanna, but experience had taught her modesty and also a certain degree of guile, so she merely said, "What do you want to know about her, particularly?" "Our club wishes to discuss her contributions to American literature." Now the Brown family has been active in letters, from Charles Brockden down to Alice, but no one seems to know of Susanna H. The librarian contrived to put off the matter until she could make some investigations of her own, but, all the resources of the central reference room proving unequal to the task, she timidly asked the clubwoman, at her next visit, to solve the problem. "Oh, we don't know who Susanna H. Brown was; that is why we came to you for information!" "But where did you find the name?" "Well, I don't know exactly; but one of our members, in a conversation with some one who knows a lot about literature--I forget just who it was--was told that Susanna H. Brown had rendered noteworthy services to American literature. We've got to find out, for her name is already printed on the programme!" I don't know what was said of Miss, or Mrs. Brown at the meeting; but my opinion is that this particular item on the programme had to be omitted. Another lady entered a library abruptly and said "I want your books on China." "Do you mean the country of that name? or are you looking up porcelain?" First perplexity and then dismay spread over the lady's face. "Why, I don't know," she faltered. "The program just said China!" A university professor was once asked by one of these program committees for a list of references on German folklore--a subject to which it had decided that its club should devote the current season. The list, as furnished, proved rather stiff, and the astonished professor received forthwith the following epistle (quoted from memory): "DEAR PROFESSOR-- "Thank you so much for the folk-lore; but we have changed our minds and have decided to study the Chicago Drainage Canal instead." This hap-hazard method of programme-making is not confined to club papers, as the following anecdote will show: An officer of a woman's club entered a library and said that she thought it would be nice to vary the usual literary programme by the introduction of story-telling, and she asked for aid from the library staff. It was a busy season and as the librarian hesitated the clubwoman added hastily that the whole programme need not occupy more than half an hour. "We want the very simplest things, told in a few words, so that it will really be no trouble at all." Pressed to be more specific, she went on: "Well--no story must take more than three minutes, and we want Little Nell, Louis IX, Moses in the Bulrushes, the Princes in the Tower, Cinderella, Jack and the Bean Stalk, the Holy Night and Louis XI. "You see that allowing three minutes apiece would bring them all within twenty-four minutes--less than half an hour, just as I said. "And--oh, yes! we want the storyteller to sit on a platform, and just in front of her we will pose a group of little girls, all in white frocks. Won't that be nice?" The making of programmes has in many cases been influenced by the fact that some subjects are considered more "high-toned" than others. The drama is at present a particularly high-toned subject. The fine arts are always placed in the first class. Apparently anything closely related to the personal lives, habits and interests of those concerned is under a ban. The fine arts, for instance, are not recognised as including the patterns of wall-paper or curtains, or the decoration of plates or cups. Copying from one programme to another is a common expedient. The making of these programmes betrays, all through its processes and their inevitable result, lack of originality, blind adherence to models, unquestioning imitation of something that has gone before. I do not believe these to be sex-characteristics, and there are signs that the sex is growing out of them. If they are not sex characteristics they must be the results of education, for ordinary heredity would quickly equalise the sexes in this respect. I have already stated my belief that the physical differences between the sexes are necessarily accompanied by mental differences, and I think it probable that the characteristics noted above, although not proper to sex, spring from the fact that we are expecting like results from the same educational treatment of unlike minds. When we have learned how to vary our treatment of these minds so as to produce like results--in those cases where we want the results to be alike, as in the present instance--we shall have solved the problem of education, so far as it affects sex-differences. It has long been recognised that whenever woman does show a deviation from standards she is apt to deviate far and erratically. So far, however, she has shown no marked tendency so to deviate in the arts and a very slight one in the sciences. There have been lately some marked instances of her upward deviation in the field of science. In literature, no age has been wanting in great woman writers, though there have been few of them. I look eventually to see woman physicists as eminent as Helmholtz and Kelvin, woman painters as great as Raphael and Velasquez, woman musicians as able as Bach and Beethoven. That we have had none yet I believe to be solely the fault of inadequate education. Of this inadequacy our imitative, arbitrary and uninspiring club programmes are a part--the very fact that our clubwomen pin their faith to programmes of any kind is a consequence of it. The substitution of something else for these programmes, with the accompanying change in the interests and reading of clubwomen, will be one step toward the rationalisation of education--for all processes of this kind are essentially educative. We need not despair of finding ultimately the exact differences in method which, applied in the education of the sexes, will minimise such of the present mental differences as we desire to obliterate. Problems of this sort are solved usually by the discovery of some automatic process. In this case the key to such a process is the fact that the mental differences between the sexes manifest themselves in differences of interest. Every parent of boys and girls knows that these differences begin early to show themselves. We have been too prone to disregard them and to substitute a set of imagined differences that do not really exist. We go about the moral training of the boy and the girl in precisely the same way, although their moral points of view and susceptibilities differ in degree and kind; and then we marvel that we do not get precisely similar moral products. But we assume that there is some natural objection to the climbing of trees by girls, while it is all right for boys--an imaginary distinction that has caused tears and heart-burnings. We are outgrowing this particular imaginary distinction, and some others like it. Possibly we may also outgrow our systems of co-education, so far as this means the subjection of the male and the female mind to exactly the same processes of training. The training of the sexes in the same institution, with its consequent mental contact between them, has nothing to do with this, necessarily, and has advantages that cannot be overlooked. Whatever we do in school, our subsequent education, which goes on at least as long as we inhabit this world, must be in and through social contact, men and women together. But if each sex is not true to itself and does not live its own life, the results cannot be satisfactory. Reactions that are sought in an effort made by women to conform their instincts, aspirations and mental processes to those of men will be feeble or perverted, just as they would be if men should seek a similar distortion. The remedy is to let the woman's mind swing into the channel of least resistance, just as the man's always has done. Then the clubs, and the clubwomen, their exercises, their papers and their preparatory reading will all be released from the constraint that is now pinching them and pinning them down and will bud and blossom and grow up to normal and valuable fruition. We have started with the fact that the reading done by the members of women's clubs, especially in connection with club papers, is often trivial, superficial, devoid of intelligence and lacking in judgment. Treating this as a symptom; we have, I think, traced the cause to a total lack of interest due to arbitrary, perfunctory and unintelligent programme-making. The disease may be diagnosed, I think, as acute programitis and the physician is in a position to consider what therapeutic measures may be indicated. We shall endeavor to prescribe some simple remedies. III--_The Remedy_ When we have once discovered the cause of a malady, we may proceed in two ways to combat it; either we may destroy the cause or we may render the possible victims immune. To put it a little differently, we may eliminate either of the two elements whose conjunction causes the disease. To grow weeds, there must co-exist their seeds and a favourable soil. They may be exterminated either by killing the seeds or sterilising the soil. Either of these methods may be used in dealing with the disease that prevails among readers, or, if you prefer the other metaphor, with the rank vegetation that has choked the fertile soil of their minds, making any legitimate mental crop impossible. We have seen that the conditions favorable to the disease are a lack of interest and a fallacious idea that there is something inherent in the printed page _per se_ that makes its perusal valuable whether the reader is interested or not--somewhat as a charm is supposed to work even when it is in a language that the user does not understand. We are considering only the form of the disease that affects clubwomen, and this we have diagnosed as _programitis_--the imposition of a set programme of work--which, as an exciting cause, operates on the mental soil prepared by indifference and fetichism to produce the malady from which so many are now suffering. I think physicians will generally agree that where the exciting cause can be totally removed that method of dealing with the disease is far more effective than any attempt to secure immunity. I believe that in most cases it is so in the present instance. In other words, my prescription is the abandonment, in nine cases out of ten, of the set programme, and the substitution of something that is interesting primarily to each individual concerned. This is no new doctrine. Listen to William James: Any object not interesting in itself may become interesting through becoming associated with an object in which an interest already exists. The two associated objects grow, as it were, together: the interesting portion sheds its quality over the whole; and thus things not interesting in their own right borrow an interest which becomes as real and as strong as that of any natively interesting thing.... If we could recall for a moment our whole individual history, we should see that our professional ideals and the zeal they inspire are due to nothing but the slow accretion of one mental object to another, traceable backward from point to point till we reach the moment when, in the nursery or in the schoolroom, some little story told, some little object shown, some little operation witnessed, brought the first new object and new interest within our ken by associating it with some one of those primitively there. The interest now suffusing the whole system took its rise in that little event, so insignificant to us now as to be entirely forgotten. As the bees in swarming cling to one another in layers till the few are reached whose feet grapple the bough from which the swarm depends; so with the objects of our thinking--they hang to each other by associated links, but the original source of interest in all of them is the native interest which the earliest one once possessed. If we are to exorcise this spirit of indifference that has settled down like a miasma upon clubdom we must find James's original germ of interest--the twig upon which our cluster of bees is ultimately to hang. Here we may introduce two axioms: Everyone is deeply interested in something; few are supremely interested in the same thing. I shall not attempt to prove these, and what I shall have to say will be addressed only to those who can accept them without proof. But I am convinced that illustrations will occur at once to everyone. Who has not seen the man or woman, the boy or girl who, apparently stupid, indifferent and able to talk only in monosyllables, is suddenly shocked into interest and volubility by the mere chance mention of some subject of conversation--birds, or religion, or Egyptian antiquities, or dolls, or skating, or Henry the Eighth? There are millions of these electric buttons for galvanising dumb clay into mental and spiritual life, and no one of them is likely to act upon more than a very few in a given company--the theory of chances is against it. That is why no possible programme could be made that would fit more than a very small portion of a given club. We have seen that many club-programmes are made with an irreducible minimum of intelligence; but even a programme committee with superhuman intellect and angelic goodwill could never compass the solution of such a problem as this. Nor will it suffice to abandon the general programme and endeavour to select for each speaker the subject that he would like best to study and expound. No one knows what these subjects are but the owners of the hearts that love them. We have seen how the scientific and technical societies manage the matter and how well they succeed. They appoint a committee whose duty it is to receive contributions and to select the worthiest among those presented. The matter then takes care of itself. These people are all interested in something. They are finding out things by experimentation or thought; by induction or deduction. It is the duty and the high pleasure of each to tell his fellows of his discoveries. It is in this way that the individual gives of his best to the race--the triumph of the social instinct over selfishness. As this sort of intellectual profit-sharing becomes more and more common, the reign of the social instinct will extend and strengthen. To do one's part toward such an end ought to be a pleasure, and this is one reason why this course is commended here to the women's clubs. Everyone, I repeat, is deeply interested in something. I am not talking of idiots; there are no such in women's clubs. I have been telling some odd stories of clubwomen, in which they are represented as doing and saying idiotic things. These stories are all true, and if one should take the time to collect and print others, I do not suppose, as the sacred writer says, "that all the world could contain the books that should be written." Things quite as idiotic as these that I have reported are said and done in every city and every hamlet of these United States every day in the year and every hour in the day--except possibly between three and five A.M., and sometimes even then. Yet those who say and do these things are not idiots. When your friend Brown is telling you his pet anecdote for the thirty-fifth time, or when Smith insists that you listen to a recital of the uninteresting accomplishments of his newly-arrived infant, you may allow your thoughts to wander and make some inane remark, yet you are not an idiot. You are simply not interested. You are using most of your mind in another direction and it is only with what is left of it that you hear Brown or Smith and talk to him. Brown or Smith is not dealing with your personality as a whole, but with a residuum. And this is what is the matter with the clubwomen who read foolishly and ask foolish questions in libraries. They are residual personalities. Not being at all interested in the matter in hand, they are devoting to it only a minimum part of their brains; and what they do and say is comparable with the act of the perambulating professor, who, absorbed in mathematical calculation, lifted his hat to the cow. The professor was perhaps pardonable, for his mind was not wandering--it was suffering, on the contrary, from excessive concentration--but it was not concentrated on the cow. In the case of the clubwomen, the role of the cow is played by the papers that they are preparing, while, in lieu of the mathematical problems, we have a variety of really absorbing subjects, more or less important, over which their minds are wandering. What we must do is to capture these wandering minds, and this we can accomplish only by enlisting their own knowledge of what interests them. If you would realise the difference between the mental processes of a mere residue and those of the whole personality when its vigour is concentrated on one subject, listen first to one of those perfunctory essays, culled from a collection of cyclopædias, and then hear a whole woman throw her whole self into something. Hear her candid opinion of some person or thing that has fallen below her standard! Hear her able analysis of the case at law between her family and the neighbours! Hear her make a speech on woman suffrage--I mean when it is really to her the cause of causes; there are those who take it up for other reasons, as the club-women do their papers, with not dissimilar results. In all these cases clearness of presentation, weight of invective, keenness of analysis spring from interest. None of these women, if she has a feminine mind, treats these things as a man would. We men are very apt to complain of the woman's mental processes, for the same reason that narrow "patriots" always suspect and deride the methods of a foreigner, simply because they are strange and we do not understand them. But what we are compelled to think of the results is shown by the fact that when we are truly wise we are apt to seek the advice and counsel of the other sex and to act upon it, even when we cannot fathom the processes by which it was reached. All the more reason this why the woman should be left to herself and not forced to model her club paper on the mental processes of a man, used with many necessary elisions and sometimes with very bad workmanship, in the construction of the cyclopædia article never intended to be employed for any such purpose. Perhaps we can never make the ordinary clubwoman talk like Susan B. Anthony, or Anna Shaw, or Beatrice Hale, or Fola La Follette; any more than we can put into the mouth of the ordinary business man the words of Lincoln, or John B. Gough, or Phillips Brooks, or Raymond Robins--but get somehow into the weakest of either sex the impulses, the interests, the energies that once stood or now stand behind the utterances of any one of these great Americans, and see if the result is not something worth while! An appreciative critic of the first paper in this series, writing in _The Yale Alumni Weekly_, gives it as his opinion that these readers are in the first stage of their education--that of "initial intellectual interest." He says: "Curiosity, then suspicion, come later to grow into individual intellectual judgment." I wish I could agree that what we have diagnosed as a malady is only an early stage of something that is ultimately to develop into matured judgment. But the facts seem clearly to show that, far from possessing "initial intellectual interest," these readers are practically devoid of any kind of interest whatever, properly speaking. Such as they have is not proper to the subject, but simply due to the fact that they desire to retain their club membership, to fulfil their club duties, and to act in general as other women do in other clubs. To go back to our recent simile, it is precisely the same interest that keeps you listening, or pretending to listen, to a bore, while you are really thinking of something else. If you were free to follow your impulses, you would insult the bore, or throw him downstairs, or retreat precipitately. You are inhibited by your sense of propriety and your recognition of what is due to a fellow-man, no matter how boresome he may be. The clubwoman doubtless has a strong impulse to throw the encyclopædia out of the window, or to insult the librarian (occasionally she does) or even to resign from the club. She is prevented, in like manner, by her sense of propriety, and often, too, we must admit, by a real, though rudimentary, desire for knowledge. But such inhibitions cannot develop into judgment. They are merely negative, while the interest that has a valuable outcome is positive. Another thing that we shall do well to remember is that no condition or relation one of whose elements or factors is the human mind can ever be properly considered apart from that mind. Shakespeare's plays would seem to be fairly unalterable. Shakespeare is dead and cannot change them, and they have been written down in black and white this many a year. But the real play, so far as it makes any difference to us to-day, is not in the books; or, at least, the book is but one of its elements. It is the effect produced upon the auditor, and of this a very important element is the auditor's mental and spiritual state. Considered from this standpoint, Shakespeare's plays have been changing ever since they were written. Environment, physical and mental, has altered; the language has developed; the plain, ordinary talk of Shakespeare's time now seems to us quaint and odd; every-day allusions have become cryptic. It all "ain't up to date," to quote the Cockney's complaint about it. Probably no one to-day can under any circumstances get the same reaction to a play of Shakespeare as that of his original audience, and probably no one ever will. Anecdotes possess a sort of centripetal force; tales illustrative of the matter at hand have been flying to me from all parts of the country. From the Pacific Northwest comes this, which seems pertinent just here. A good clubwoman, who had been slaving all day over a paper on Chaucer, finally at its close threw down her pen and exclaimed, "Oh, dear! I wish Chaucer were _dead_!" She had her wish in more senses than the obvious one. Not only has Chaucer's physical body long ago given up its substance to earth and air, but his works have to be translated for most readers of the present day; his language is fast becoming as dead as Latin or Greek. But, worse still, his very spirit was dead, so far as its reaction on her was concerned. Poetry, to you and me, is what we make of it; and what do you suppose our friend from Oregon was making of Chaucer? Our indifference, our failure to react, is thus more far-reaching than its influence on ourselves--it is, in some sense, a sin against the immortal souls of those who have bequeathed their spiritual selves to the world in books. And this sin the clubs are, in more cases than I care to think, forcing deliberately upon their members. A well-known cartoonist toiled long in early life at some uncongenial task for a pittance. Meanwhile he drew pictures for fun, and one day a journalist, seeing one of his sketches, offered him fifty dollars for it--the salary of many days. "And when," said the cartoonist, "I found I could get more money by playing than by working, I swore I would never work again--and I haven't." When we can all play--do exactly what we like--and keep ourselves and the world running by it, then the Earthly Paradise will be achieved. But, meanwhile, cannot we realize that these clubwomen will accomplish more if we can direct and control their voluntary activity, backed by their whole mental energy, than when they devote some small part of their minds to an uncongenial task, dictated by a programme committee? I shall doubtless be reminded that the larger clubs are now generally divided into sections, and that membership in these sections is supposed to be dictated by interest. This is a step in the right direction, but it is an excessively short one. The programme, with all its vicious accompaniments and lamentable results, persists. What I have said and shall say applies as well to an art or a domestic science section as to a club _in toto_. To bring down the treatment to a definite prescription, let us suppose that the committee in charge of a club's activities, instead of marking out a definite programme for the season, should simply announce that communications on subjects of personal interest to the members, embodying some new and original thought, method, idea, device, or mode of treatment, would be received, and that the best of these would be read and discussed before the club, after which some would appear in print. No conditions would be stated, but it would be understood that such features as length and style, as well as subject matter, would be considered in selecting the papers to be read. Above all, it would be insisted that no paper should be considered that was merely copied from anything, either in substance or idea. It is, of course, possible to constitute a paper almost entirely of quotations and yet so to group and discuss these that the paper becomes an original contribution to thought; but mere parrot-like repetition of ascertained facts, or of other people's thoughts, should not be tolerated. Right here the first obstacle would be encountered. Club members, accustomed to be assigned for study subjects like "The Metope of the Parthenon" or "The True Significance of Hyperspace," will not easily comprehend that they are really desired to put briefly on paper original ideas about something that they know at first hand. Mrs. Jones makes better sponge cake than any one in town; the fact is known to all her friends. If sponge cake is a desirable product, why should not the woman who has discovered the little knack that turns failure into success, and who is proud of her ability and special knowledge, tell her club of it, instead of laboriously copying from a book--or, let us say, from two or three books--some one else's compilation of the facts ascertained at second or third hand by various other writers on "The Character of the Cid"? Why should not Mrs. Smith, who was out over night in the blizzard of 1888, recount her experiences, mental as well as physical? Why should not Miss Robinson, who collects coins and differs from the accepted authorities regarding the authenticity of certain of her specimens, tell why and how and all about it? Why should not the member who is crazy about begonias and the one who thinks she saw Uncle Hiram's ghost, and she who has read and re-read George Meredith, seeing beauties in him that no one else ever detected--why should not one and all give their fellows the benefit of the really valuable special knowledge that they have acquired through years of interested thinking and talking and doing? But there will be trouble, as I have said. The thing, simple as it is, would be too unaccustomed to comprehend. And then a real article in a real cyclopædia by a real writer is Information with a big "I." My little knowledge about making quince jelly, or darning stockings, or driving an auto, or my thoughts about the intellectual differences between Dickens and Thackeray, or my personal theories of conduct, or my reasons for preferring hot-water heat to steam--these are all too trivial to mention; is it possible that you want me to write them down on paper? It may thus happen that when the committee opens its mail it may find--nothing. What, then? Logically, I should be forced to say: Well, if none of your members is interested enough in anything to have some original information to tell about it, disband your club. What is the use of it? Even three newsboys, when they meet on the street corner, begin at once to interchange ideas. Where are yours? Possibly this would be too drastic. It might be better to hold a meeting, state the failure, and adjourn for another trial. It might be well to repeat this several times, in the hope that the fact that absence of original ideas means no proceedings might soak in and germinate. If this does not work, it might be possible to fight the devil with fire, by going back to the programme method so far as to assign definitely to members subjects in which they are known to be deeply interested. This, in fact, is the second method of treatment mentioned at the outset, namely, the endeavour to secure immunity where the germ cannot be exterminated. We shall probably never be able to rid the world of the _bacillus tuberculosis_; the best we can do is to keep as clear of it as we can and to strengthen our powers of resistance to it. So, if we cannot kill the programme all at once, let us strive to make it innocuous and to minimise its evil effects on its victims. Let us suppose, now, that in one way or another, it is brought about that every club member who reads a paper is reporting the result of some personal experience in which her interest is vivid--some discovery, acquisition, method, idea, criticism or appreciation that is the product of her own life and of the particular, personal way in which she has lived it. What a result this will have on that woman's reading--on what she does before she writes her paper and on what she goes through after it! If her interest is as vivid as we assume it to be, she will not be content to recount her own experiences without comparing them with those of others. And after her paper has been read and the comment and criticism of other interested members have been brought out--of some, perhaps, whose interest she had never before suspected, then she will feel a fresh impulse to search for new accounts and to devour them. There is no longer anything perfunctory about the matter. She can no longer even trust the labour of looking up her references to others. She becomes an investigator; she feels something of the joy of those who add to the sum of human knowledge. And lo! the problem of clubwomen's reading is solved! The wandering mind is captured; the inane residuum is abolished by union with the rest to form a normal, intelligent whole. No more idiotic questions, no more cyclopædia-copying, no more wool-gathering programmes. Is it too much to expect? Alas, we are but mortal! I trust it has been made sufficiently clear that I think meanly neither of the intellectual ability of women nor of the services of women's clubs. The object of these papers is to give the former an opportunity to assert itself, and the latter a chance to profit by the assertion. The woman's club of the future should be a place where original ideas, fed and directed by interested reading, are exchanged and discussed. Were I writing of men's clubs, I should point out to them the same goal. And then, perhaps, we may look forward to a time when a selected group of men and women may come together and talk of things in which they both, as men and women, are interested. When this happens, I trust that in the discussion we shall not heed the advice of some modern feminists and forget that we are as God made us. Why should each man talk to a woman "as if she were another man"? I never heard it advised that each woman should talk to each man "as if he were another woman"; but I should resent it if I did. Why shut our eyes to the truth? I trust that I have not been talking to the club-women "as if they were men"; I am sure I have not meant to do so. They are not men; they have their own ways, and those ways should be developed and encouraged. We have had the psychology of race, of the crowd and of the criminal; where is the investigator who has studied the Psychology of Woman? When she (note the pronoun) has arrived, let us make her president of a woman's club. It is with diffidence that I have outlined any definite procedure, because, after all, the precise manner in which the treatment should be applied will depend, of course, on the club concerned. To prescribe for you most effectively, your physician should be an intimate friend. He should have known you from birth--better still, he should have cared for your father and your grandfather before you. Otherwise, he prescribes for an average man; and you may be very far from the average. The drug that he administers to quiet your nerves may act on your heart and give you the smothers--it might conceivably quiet you permanently. Then the doctor would send to his medical journal a note on "A Curious Case of Umptiol Poisoning," but you would still be dead, even if all his readers should agree with him. I have no desire to bring about casualties of this kind. Let those who know and love each particular club devote themselves to the task of applying my treatment to it in a way that will involve a minimum shock to its nerves and a minimum amount of interference with its metabolic processes. It will take time. Rome was not built in a day, and a revolution in clubdom is not going to be accomplished over night. I have prescribed simple remedies--too simple, I am convinced, to be readily adopted. What could be simpler than to advise the extermination of all germ diseases by killing off the germs? Any physician will tell you that this method is the very acme of efficiency; yet, the germs are still with us, and bid fair to spread suffering and death over our planet for many a long year to come. So I am not sanguine that we shall be able all at once to kill off the programmes. All that may be expected is that at some distant day the simplicity and effectiveness of some plan of the sort will begin to commend itself to clubwomen. If, then, some lover of the older literature will point out the fact that, back in 1915, the gloomy era when fighting hordes were spreading blood and carnage over the fair face of Europe, an obscure and humble librarian, in the pages of THE BOOKMAN, pointed out the way to sanity, I shall be well content. BOOKS FOR TIRED EYES The most distinctive thing about a book is the possibility that someone may read it. Is this a truism? Evidently not; for the publishers, who print books, and the libraries, which store and distribute them, have never thought it worth their while to collect and record information bearing on this possibility. In the publisher's or the bookseller's advertising announcements, as well as on the catalogue cards stored in the library's trays, the reader may ascertain when and where the book was published, the number of pages, and whether it contains plates or maps; but not a word of the size or style of type in which it is printed. Yet on this depends the ability of the reader to use the book for the purpose for which it was intended. The old-fashioned reader was a mild-mannered gentleman. If he could not read his book because it was printed in outrageously small type, he laid it aside with a sigh, or used a magnifying lens, or persisted in his attempts with the naked eye until eyestrain, with its attendant maladies, was the result. Lately however, the libraries have been waking up, and their readers with them. The utilitarian side of the work is pushed to the front; and the reader is by no means disposed to accept what may be offered him, either in the content of the book or its physical make-up. The modern library must adapt itself to its users, and among other improvements must come an attempt to go as far as possible in making books physiologically readable. Unfortunately the library cannot control the output of books, and must limit itself to selection. An experiment in such selection is now in progress in the St. Louis Public Library. The visitor to that library will find in its Open Shelf Room a section of shelving marked with the words "Books in large type." To this section are directed all readers who have found it difficult or painful to read the ordinary printed page but who do not desire to wear magnifying lenses. It has not been easy to fill these shelves, for books in large type are few, and hard to secure, despite the fact that artists, printers, and oculists have for years been discussing the proper size, form, and grouping of printed letters from their various standpoints. Perhaps it is time to urge a new view--that of the public librarian, anxious to please his clients and to present literature to them in that physical form which is most easily assimilable and least harmful. Tired eyes belong, for the most part, to those who have worked them hardest; that is, to readers who have entered upon middle age or have already passed through it. At this age we become conscious that the eye is a delicate instrument--a fact which, however familiar to us in theory, has previously been regarded with aloofness. Now it comes home to us. The length of a sitting, the quality, quantity, and incidence of the light, and above all, the arrangement of the printed page, become matters of vital importance to us. A book with small print, or letters illegibly grouped, or of unrecognizable shapes, becomes as impossible to us as if it were printed in the Chinese character. It is an unfortunate law of nature that injurious acts appear to us in their true light only after the harm is done. The burnt child dreads the fire after he has been burned--not before. So the fact that the middle-aged man cannot read small, or crooked, or badly grouped type means simply that the harmfulness of these things, which always existed for him, has cumulated throughout a long tale of years until it has obtruded itself upon him in the form of an inhibition. The books that are imperative for the tired eyes of middle age, are equally necessary for those of youth--did youth but know it. Curiously enough, we are accustomed to begin, in teaching the young to read, with very legible type. When the eyes grow stronger, we begin to maltreat them. So it is, also, with the digestive organs, which we first coddle with pap, then treat awhile with pork and cocktails, and then, perforce, entertain with pap of the second and final period. What correspond, in the field of vision, to pork and cocktails, are the vicious specimens of typography offered on all sides to readers--in books, pamphlets, magazines, and newspapers--typography that is slowly but surely ruining the eyesight of those that need it most. Hitherto, the public librarian has been more concerned with the minds and the morals of his clientele than with that physical organism without which neither mind nor morals would be of much use. It would be easy to pick out on the shelves of almost any public library books that are a physiological scandal, printed in type that it is an outrage to place before any self-respecting reader. I have seen copies of "Tom Jones" that I should be willing to burn, as did a puritanical British library-board of newspaper notoriety. My reasons, however, would be typographic, not moral, and I might want to add a few copies of "The Pilgrim's Progress" and "The Saint's Everlasting Rest," without prejudice to the authors' share in those works, which I admire and respect. Perhaps it is too much to ask for complete typographical expurgation of our libraries. But, at least, readers with tired eyes who do not yet wear, or care to wear, corrective lenses, should be able to find, somewhere on the shelves, a collection of works in relatively harmless print--large and black, clear in outline, simple and distinctive in form, properly grouped and spaced. The various attempts to standardize type-sizes and to adopt a suitable notation for them have been limited hitherto to the sizes of the type-body and bear only indirectly on the size of the actual letter. More or less arbitrary names--such as minion, bourgeois, brevier, and nonpareil,--were formerly used; but what is called the point-system is now practically universal, although its unit, the "point," is not everywhere the same. Roughly speaking, a point is one-seventy-second of an inch, so that in three-point type, for example, the thickness of the type-body, from the top to the bottom of the letter on its face, is one-twenty-fourth of an inch. But on this type-body the face may be large or small--although of course, it cannot be larger than the body,--and the size of the letters called by precisely the same name in the point notation may vary within pretty wide limits. There is no accepted notation for the size of the letters themselves, and this fact tells, more eloquently than words, that the present sizes of type are standardized and defined for compositors only, not for readers, and still less for scientific students of the effect upon the readers' eyes of different arrangements of the printed page. What seems to have been the first attempt to define sizes of type suitable for school grades was made fifteen years ago by Mr Edward R. Shaw in his "School Hygiene"; he advocates sizes from eighteen-point in the first year to twelve-point for the fourth. "Principals, teachers, and school superintendents," he says, "should possess a millimetre measure and a magnifying glass, and should subject every book presented for their examination to a test to determine whether the size of the letters and the width of the leading are of such dimensions as will not prove injurious to the eyes of children." To this list, librarians might be well added--not to speak of authors, editors, and publishers. In a subsequent part of his chapter on "Eyesight and Hearing," from which the above sentence is quoted, appears a test of illumination suggested by "The Medical Record" of Strasburg, which may serve as a "horrid example" in some such way as did the drunken brother who accompanied the temperance lecturer. According to this authority, if a pupil is unable to read diamond type--four-and-one-half-point--"at twelve-inch distance and without strain," the illumination is dangerously low. The adult who tries the experiment will be inclined to conclude that whatever the illumination, the proper place for the man who uses diamond type for any purpose is the penitentiary. The literature upon this general subject, such as it is, is concerned largely with its relations with school hygiene. We are bound to give our children a fair start in life, in conditions of vision as well as in other respects, even if we are careless about ourselves. The topic of "Conservation of Vision," in which, however, type-size played but a small part, was given special attention at the Fourth International Congress of School Hygiene, held in Buffalo in 1913. Investigations on the subject, so far as they affect the child in school, are well summed up in the last chapter of Huey's "Psychology and Pedagogy of Reading." In general, the consensus of opinion of investigators seems to be that the most legible type is that between eleven-point and fourteen-point. Opinion regarding space between lines, due to "leading," is not quite so harmonious. Some authorities think that it is better to increase the size of the letters; and Huey asserts that an attempt to improve unduly small type by making wide spaces between lines is a mistake. As to the relative legibility of different type-faces, one of the most exhaustive investigations was that made at Clark University by Miss Barbara E. Roethlin, whose results were published in 1912. This study considers questions of form, style, and grouping, independently of mere size; and the conclusion is that legibility is a product of six factors, of which size is one, the others being form, heaviness of face, width of the margin around the letter, position in the letter-group, and shape and size of adjoining letters. For "tired eyes" the size factor would appear of overwhelming importance except where the other elements make the page fantastically illegible. In Miss Roethlin's tables, based upon a combination of the factors mentioned above, the maximum of legibility almost always coincides with that of size. These experiments seem to have influenced printers, whose organization in Boston has appointed a committee to urge upon the Carnegie Institution the establishment of a department of research to make scientific tests of printing-types in regard to the comparative legibility and the possibility of improving some of their forms. Their effort, so far, has met with no success; but the funds at the disposal of this body could surely be put to no better use. With regard to the improvement of legibility by alteration of form, it has been recognized by experiments from the outset that the letters of our alphabet, especially the small, or "lower-case" letters, are not equally legible. Many proposals for modifying or changing them have been made, some of them odd or repugnant. It has been suggested, for instance, that the Greek lambda be substituted for our _l_, which in its present form is easily confused with the dotted _i_. Other pairs of letters (_u_ and _n_, _o_ and _e_, for example) are differentiated with difficulty. The privilege of modifying alphabetic form is one that has been frequently exercised. The origin of the German alphabet and our own, for instance, is the same, and no lower-case letters in any form date further back than the Middle Ages. There could be no well-founded objection to any change, in the interests of legibility, that is not so far-reaching as to make the whole alphabet look foreign and unfamiliar. It may be queried, however, whether the lower-case alphabet had not better be reformed by abolishing it altogether. There would appear to be no good reason for using two alphabets, now one and now the other, according to arbitrary rules, difficult to learn and hard to remember. That the general legibility of books would benefit by doing away with this mediaeval excrescence appears to admit of no doubt, although the proposal may seem somewhat startling to the general reader. In 1911, a committee was appointed by the British Association for the Advancement of Science "to inquire into the influence of school-books upon eyesight." This committee's report dwells on the fact that the child's eye is still in process of development and needs larger type than the fully developed eye of the adult. In making its recommendation for the standardization of school-book type, which it considers the solution of the difficulty, the committee emphasizes the fact that forms and sizes most legible for isolated letters are not necessarily so for the groups that need to be quickly recognized by the trained reader. It dwells upon the importance of unglazed paper, flexible sewing, clear, bold illustrations, black ink, and true alignment. Condensed or compressed letters are condemned, as are long serifs and hair strokes. On the other hand, very heavy-faced type is almost as objectionable as that with the fine lines, the ideal being a proper balancing of whites and blacks in each letter and group. The size of the type face, as we might expect, is pronounced by the committee "the most important factor in the influence of books upon vision"; it describes its recommended sizes in millimetres--a refinement which, for the purposes of this article, need not be insisted upon. Briefly, the sizes run from thirty-point, for seven-year-old children, to ten-point or eleven-point, for persons more than twelve years old. Except as an inference from this last recommendation, the committee, of course, does not exceed its province by treating of type-sizes for adults; yet it would seem that it considers ten-point as the smallest size fit for anyone, however good his sight. This would bar much of our existing reading matter. A writer whose efforts in behalf of sane typography have had practical results is Professor Koopman, librarian of Brown University, whose plea has been addressed chiefly to printers. Professor Koopman dwells particularly on the influence of short lines on legibility. The eye must jump from the end of each line back to the beginning of the next, and this jump is shorter and less fatiguing with the shorter line, though it must be oftener performed. Owing largely to his demonstration, "The Printing Art," a trade magazine published in Cambridge, Massachusetts, has changed its make-up from a one-column to a two-column page. It should be noted, however, that a uniform, standard length of line is even more to be desired than a short one. When the eye has become accustomed to one length for its linear leaps, these leaps can be performed with relative ease and can be taken care of subconsciously. When the lengths vary capriciously from one book, or magazine, to another, or even from one page to another, as they so often do, the effort to get accustomed to the new length is more tiring than we realize. Probably this factor, next to the size of type, is most effective in tiring the middle-aged eye, and in keeping it tired. The opinion may be ventured that the reason for our continued toleration of the small type used in the daily newspapers is that their columns are narrow, and still more, that these are everywhere of practically uniform width. The indifference of publishers to the important feature of the physical make-up of books appears from the fact that in not a single case is it included among the descriptive items in their catalogue entries. Libraries are in precisely the same class of offenders. A reader or a possible purchaser of books is supposed to be interested in the fact that a book is published in Boston, has four hundred and thirty-two pages, and is illustrated, but not at all in its legibility. Neither publishers nor libraries have any way of getting information on the subject, except by going to the books themselves. Occasionally a remainder-catalogue, containing bargains whose charms it is desired to set forth with unusual detail, states that a certain book is in "large type," or even in "fine, large type," but these words are nowhere defined, and the purchaser cannot depend on their accuracy. An edition of Scott, recently advertised extensively as in "large, clear type," proved on examination to be printed in ten-point. In gathering the large-type collection for the St. Louis Library fourteen-point was decided upon as the standard, which means, of course, types with a face somewhere between the smallest size that is usually found on a fourteen-point body, even if actually on a smaller body, and the largest that this can carry, even if on a larger body. The latter is unusually large, but it would not do to place the standard below fourteen-point, because that would lower the minimum, which is none too large as it is. The first effort was to collect such large-type books, already in the library, as would be likely to interest the general reader. In the collection of nearly 400,000 volumes, it was found by diligent search that only 150 would answer this description. Most octavo volumes of travel are in large type, but only a selected number of these was placed in the collection to avoid overloading it with this particular class. This statement applies also to some other classes, and to certain types of books, such as some government reports and some scientific monographs, which have no representatives in the group. The next step was to supplement the collection by purchase. All available publishers' catalogues were examined, but after a period of twelve months it was found possible to spend only $65.00 in the purchase of 120 additional books. A circular letter was then sent to ninety-two publishers, explaining the purpose of the collection and asking for information regarding books in fourteen-point type, or larger, issued by them. To these there were received sixty-three answers. In twenty-nine instances, no books in type of this size were issued by the recipients of the circulars. In six cases, the answer included brief lists of from two to twelve titles of large-type books; and in several other cases, the publishers stated that the labor of ascertaining which of their publications are in large type would be prohibitive, as it would involve actual inspection of each and every volume on their lists. In two instances, however, after a second letter, explaining further the aims of the collection, publishers promised to undertake the work. The final result has been that the Library now has over four hundred volumes in the collection. This is surely not an imposing number, but it appears to represent the available resources of a country in which 1,000 publishers are annually issuing 11,000 volumes--to say nothing of the British and Continental output. In the list of the collection and in the entries, the size of the type, the leading, and the size of the book itself are to be distinctly stated. The last-mentioned item is necessary because the use of large type sometimes involves a heavy volume, awkward to hold in the hand. The collection for adults in the St. Louis Library, as it now exists, may be divided into the following classes, according to the reasons that seem to have prompted the use of large type: 1. Large books printed on a somewhat generous scale and intended to sell at a high price, the size of the type being merely incidental to this plan. These include books of travel, history, or biography in several volumes, somewhat high-priced sets of standard authors, and books intended for gifts. 2. Books containing so little material that large type, thick paper, and wide margins were necessary to make a volume easy to handle and use. These include many short stories of magazine length, which for some inscrutable reason are now often issued in separate form. 3. Books printed in large type for aesthetic reasons. These are few, beauty and artistic form being apparently linked in some way with illegibility by many printers, no matter what the size of the type-face. The large-type collection is used, not only by elderly persons, but also in greater number by young persons whose oculists forbid them to read fine print, or who do not desire to wear glasses. The absence of a wide range in the collection drives others away to books that are, doubtless, in many cases bad for their eyes. Some books that have not been popular in the general collection have done well here, while old favorites have not been taken out. Such facts as these mean little with so limited a collection. Until readers awake to the dangers of small print and the comfort of large type there will not be sufficient pressure on our publishers to induce them to put forth more books suitable for tired eyes. It is probably too much to expect that the trade itself will try to push literature whose printed form obeys the rules of ocular hygiene. All that we can reasonably ask is that type-size shall be reported on in catalogues, so that those who want books in large type may know what is obtainable and where to go for it. It has often been noted that physicians are the only class of professional men whose activities, if properly carried on, tend directly to make the profession unnecessary. Medicine tends more and more to be preventive rather than curative. We must therefore look to the oculists to take the first steps towards lessening the number of their prospective patients by inculcating rational notions about the effects of the printed page on the eye. Teachers, librarians, parents, the press--all can do their part. And when a demand for larger print has thus been created the trade will respond. Meanwhile, libraries should be unremitting in their efforts to ascertain what material in large type already exists, to collect it, and to call attention to it in every legitimate way. THE MAGIC CASEMENT[16] [16] Read before the Town and Gown Club, St. Louis. Anyone who talks or writes about the "movies" is likely to be misunderstood. There is little to be said now about the moving picture as a moving picture, unless one wants to discuss its optics or mechanics. The time is past when anyone went to see a moving picture as a curiosity. It was once the eighth wonder of the world; it long ago abdicated that position to join its dispossessed brothers the telephone, the X-ray, the wireless telegraph and the phonograph. What we now go to see is not the moving picture, but what the moving picture shows us; it is no more than a window through which we gaze--the poet's "magic casement" opening (sometimes) "on the foam of perilous seas." We may no more praise or condemn the moving picture for what it shows us than we may praise or condemn a proscenium arch or the glass in a show window. The critic who thinks that the movies are lowering our tastes, or doing anything else objectionable, as well as he who thinks they are educating the masses, is not of the opinion that the moving pictures are doing these things because they show moving objects on a screen, but because of the character of what is photographed for such exhibition. Thoughts on the movies, therefore, must be rather thoughts on things that are currently shown us by means of the movies; thoughts also on some of the things that we might see and do not. I have compared the screen above to a proscenium arch and a show window, but both of these are selective: the screen is as broad as the world. It is especially adapted to show realities; through it one may see the coast of Dalmatia as viewed from a steamer, the habits of animals in the African jungle, or the play of emotion on the faces of an audience at a ball game in Philadelphia. I am pleased to see that more and more of these interesting realities are shown daily in the movie theatres. There has been a determined effort to make them unpopular by calling them "educational," but they seem likely to outlive it. One is educated, of course, by everything that he sees or does, but why rub it in? The boy who thoroughly likes to go sailing will get more out of it than he who goes because he thinks it will be "an educational experience." As one who goes to the movies I confess that I enjoy its realities. Probably they educate me, and I take that with due meekness. Some of these realities I enjoy because they are unfamiliar, like the boiling of the lava lake in the Hawaiian craters and the changing crowds in the streets of Manila; some because they are familiar, like a college foot-ball game or the movement of vessels in the North River at New York. I like the realities, too, in the dramatic performances that still occupy and probably will continue to occupy, most of the time at a movie theatre. Here I come into conflict with the producer. Like every other adapter he can not cut loose from the old when he essays the new. We no longer wear swords, but we still carry the buttons for the sword belt, and it is only recently that semi-tropic Americans gave up the dress of north-temperate Europe. So the movie producer can not forget the theatre. Now the theatre has some advantages that the movie can never attain--notably the use of speech. The movie, on the other hand, has unlimited freedom of scene and the use of real backgrounds. We do not object to a certain amount of what we call "staginess" on the stage--it is a part of its art; as the pigment is part of that of the painter. We are surrounded by symbols; we are not surprised that costume, gesture and voice are also symbolic instead of purely natural. But in the moving picture play it is, or should be, different. The costume and make-up, the posture and gesture, that seem appropriate in front of a painted house or tree on a back-drop, become so out-of-place as to be repulsive when one sees them in front of a real house and real trees, branches moving in the wind, running water--all the familiar accompaniments of nature. The movie producers, being unable to get away from their stage experience, are failing to grasp their opportunity. Instead of creating a drama of reality to correspond with the real environment that only the movie can offer, they are abandoning the unique advantages of that environment, to a large degree. They build fake cities, they set all their interiors in fake studio rooms, where everything is imitation; even when they let us see a bit of outdoors, it is not what it pretends to be. We have all seen, on the screen, bluffs 200 feet high on the coast of Virginia and palm trees growing in the borough of the Bronx. And they hire stage actors to interpret the stagiest of stage plots in as stagy a way as they know how. I am taking the movie seriously because I like it and because I see that I share that liking with a vast throng of persons with whom it is probably the only thing I have in common--persons separated from me by differences of training and education that would seem to make a common ground of any kind well-nigh impossible. With some persons the fact that the movie is democratic puts it outside the pale at once. Nothing, in their estimation, is worth discussing unless appreciation of it is limited to the few. Their attitude is that of the mother who said to the nurse: "Go and see what baby is doing, and tell him he musn't." "Let us," they say, "find out what people like, and then try to make them like something else." To such I have nothing to say. We ought rather, I believe, to find out the kind of thing that people like and then do our best to see that they get it in the best quality--that it is used in every way possible to pull them out of the mud, instead of rubbing their noses further in. On the other hand, some capable critics, like Mr. Walter Pritchard Eaton, decry the movies because they are undemocratic--because they are offering a form of entertainment appealing only to the uneducated and thus segregating them from the educated, who presumably all attend the regular theatre, sitting in the parquet at two dollars per. One wonders whether Mr. Eaton has attended a moving-picture theatre since 1903. I believe the movie to be by all odds the most democratic form of intellectual (by which I mean non-physical) entertainment ever offered; and I base my belief on wide observation of audiences in theatres of many different grades. Now this democracy shows itself not only in the composition of audiences but in their manifestations of approval. I do not mean that everyone in an audience always likes the same thing. Some outrageous "slap-stick" comedy rejoices one and offends another. A particularly foolish plot may satisfy in one place while it bores in another. But everywhere I find one thing that appeals to everybody--realism. Just as soon as there appears on the screen something that does not know how to pose and is forced by nature to be natural--an animal or a young child, for instance--there are immediate manifestations of interest and delight. The least "stagy" actors are almost always favorites. Mary Pickford stands at the head. There is not an ounce of staginess in her make-up. She was never particularly successful on the stage. Some of her work seems to me ideal acting for the screen--simple, appealing, absolutely true. Of course she is not always at her best. To the stage illusions that depend on costume and make-up, the screen is particularly unfriendly. Especially in the "close-ups" the effect is similar to that which one would have if he were standing close to the actor looking directly into his face. It is useless to depend on ordinary make-up under these circumstances. Either it should be of the description used by Sherlock Holmes and other celebrated detectives (we rely on hearsay) which deceives the very elect at close quarters, or else the producer must choose for his characters those that naturally "look the parts." In particular, the lady who, although long past forty, continues to play _ingenue_ parts and "gets away with it" on the stage, must get away _from_ it, when it comes to the screen. The "close up" tells the sad story at once. The part of a sixteen-year-old girl must be played by a real one. Another concession to realism, you see. And what is true of persons is true of their environment. I have already registered my disapproval of the "Universal City" type of production. It is almost as easy for the expert to pick out the fake Russian village or the pasteboard Virginia court-house as it is for him to spot the wrinkles in the countenance of the school girl who left school in 1892. Next to a fake environment the patchwork scene enrages one--the railway that is double-track with 90-pound rails in one scene and single-track with streaks of rust in the next; the train that is hauled in quick succession by locomotives of the Mogul type, the Atlantic and the wood-burning vintage of 1868. There is here an impudent assumption in the producer, of a lack of intelligence in his audience, that is quite maddening. The same lack of correspondence appears between different parts of the same street, and between the outside and inside of houses. I am told by friends that I am quite unreasonable in the extent to which I carry my demands for realism in the movies. "What would you have?" they ask. I would have a producing company that should advertise, "We have no studio" and use only real backgrounds--the actual localities represented. "Do you mean to tell me," my friend goes on, "that you would carry your company to Spain whenever the scene of their play is laid in that country? The expense would be prohibitive." I most certainly should not, and this because of the very realism that I am advocating. Plays laid in Spain should be acted not only in Spain but by Spaniards. The most objectionable kind of fake is that in which Americans are made to do duty for Spaniards, Hindus or Japanese when their appearance, action and bearing clearly indicate that they were born and brought up in Skowhegan, Maine or Crawfordsville, Indiana. I have seen Mary Pickford in "Madame Butterfly", and I testify sadly that not even she can succeed here. No; if we want Spanish plays let us use those made on Spanish soil. Let us have free interchange of films between all film-producing countries. All the change required would be translating the captions, or better still, plays might be produced that require no captions. This might mean the total reorganization of the movie-play business in this country--a revolution which I should view with equanimity. Speaking of captions, here again the average producer appears to agree with Walter Pritchard Eaton that he is catering only to the uneducated. The writers of most captions seem, indeed, to have abandoned formal instruction in the primary school. Why should not a movie caption be good literature? Some of them are. The Cabiria captions were fine: though I do not admire that masterpiece. I am told that D'Annunzio composed them with care, and equal care was evidently used in the translation. The captions of the George Ade fables are uniformly good, and there are other notable exceptions. Other places where knowledge of language is required are inadequately taken care of. Letters from eminent persons make one want to hide under the chairs. These persons usually sign themselves "Duke of Gandolfo" or "Secretary of State Smith." Are grammar school graduates difficult to get, or high-priced? I beg you to observe that here again lack of realism is my objection. But divers friends interpose the remark that the movies are already too realistic. "They leave nothing to the imagination." If this were so, it were a grievous fault--at any rate in so far as the moving-picture play aims at being an art-form. All good art leaves something to the imagination. As a matter of fact, however, the movie is the exact complement of the spoken play as read from a book. Here we have the words in full, the scene and action being left to the imagination except as briefly sketched in the stage direction. In the movie we have scene and action in full, the words being left to the imagination except as briefly indicated in the captions. Where captions are very full the form may perhaps be said to be complementary to the novel, where besides the words we are given a written description of scene and action that is often full of detail. The movie leaves just as much to the imagination as the novel, but what is so left is different in the two cases. Do I think that everyone in a movie audience makes use of his privilege to imagine what the actors are saying? No; neither does the novel-reader always image the scene and action. This does not depend on ignorance or the reverse, but on imaging power. Exceptional visual and auditive imaging power are rarely present in the same individual. I happen to have the former. I automatically see everything of which I read in a novel, and when the descriptions are not detailed, this gets me into trouble. On a second reading my imaged background may be different and when the earlier one asserts itself there is a conflict that I can compare only to hearing two tunes played at once. Persons having already good visual imaging power should develop their auditive imaging power by going to the movies and hearing what the actors say; these with deficient visual imagery should read novels and see the scenery. But to say that the movies allow no scope for the imagination is absurd. As I said at the outset, the movie play is just a play seen through the medium of a moving picture. It is like seeing a drama near enough to note the slightest play of feature and at the same time so far away that the actors can not be heard--somewhat like seeing a distant play through a fine telescope. The action should therefore differ in no respect from what would be proper if the words were intended to be heard. Doubtless this imposes a special duty upon both the author of the scenario and the producer, and they do not always respond to it. Action is introduced that fails to be intelligible without the words, and to clear it up the actors are made to use pantomime. Pantomime is an interesting and valuable form of dramatic art, but it is essentially symbolic and stagy and has, I believe, no place in the moving picture play as we have developed it. If owing to the faulty construction of the play, or a lack of skill on the part of producer or actors, all sorts of gestures and grimaces become necessary that would not be required if the words were heard, the production can not be considered good. Sometimes, of course, words are _seen_; though not heard. The story of the deaf mutes who read the lips of the movie actors, and detected remarks not at all in consonance with the action of the play, is doubtless familiar. It crops up in various places and is as ubiquitous as Washington's Headquarters. It is good enough to be true, but I have never run it to earth yet. Even those of us who are not deaf-mutes, however, may detect an exclamation now and then and it gives great force to the action, though I doubt whether it is quite legitimate in a purely picture-play. I beg leave to doubt whether realism is fostered by a method of production said to be in vogue among first rate producers; namely keeping actors in ignorance of the play and directing the action as it goes on. "Come in now, Mr. Smith; sit in that chair; cross your legs; light a cigar; register perplexity; you hear a sound; jump to your feet"--and so on. This may save the producer trouble, but it reduces the actors to marionettes; it is not thus that masterpieces are turned out. Is there any chance of a movie masterpiece, anyway? Yes, but not in the direction that most producers see it. What Vachell Lindsay calls "Splendor" in the movies is an interesting and striking feature of them--the moving of masses of people amid great architectural construction--sieges, triumphs, battles, mobs--but all this is akin to scenery. Its movements are like those of the trees or the surf. One can not make a play entirely of scenery, though the contrary seems to be the view of some managers, even on the stage of the regular theatre. So far, the individual acting and plot construction in the great spectacular movies has been poor. It was notably so, it seems to me in the Birth of a Nation and not much better in Cabiria. Judith of Bethulia (after T.B. Aldrich) is the best acted "splendor" play that I have seen. Masterpieces are coming not through spending millions on supes, and "real" temples, and forts; but rather by writing a scenario particularly adapted to film-production, hiring and training actors that know how to act for the camera, preferably those without bad stage habits to unlearn, cutting out all unreal scenery, costume and make-up and keeping everything as simple and as close to the actual as possible. The best movie play I ever saw was in a ten-cent theatre in St. Louis. It was a dramatization of Frank Norris's "McTeague." I have never seen it advertised anywhere, and I never heard of the actors, before or since. But most of it was fine, sincere work, and seeing it made me feel that there is a future for the movie play. One trouble is that up to date, neither producers nor actors nor the most intelligent and best educated part of the audience take the movies seriously. Here is one of the marvels of modern times; something that has captured the public as it never was captured before. And yet most of us look at it as a huge joke, or as something intended to entertain the populace, at which we, too are graciously pleased to be amused. It might mend matters if we could have every day in some reputable paper a column of readable serious stuff about the current movie plays--real criticism, not simply the producer's "blurb." Possibly, too, a partnership between the legitimate stage and the movie may be possible and I shall devote to a somewhat wild scheme of this sort the few pages that remain to me. To begin with, the freedom enjoyed by the Elizabethan dramatists from the limitations imposed by realistic scenery has not been sufficiently insisted upon as an element in their art. Theirs was a true _drame libre_, having its analogies with the present attempts of the vers-librists to free poetry from its restrictions of rhyme and metre. But while the tendency of poetry has always been away from its restrictions, the _mise-en-scene_ in the drama has continually, with the attempts to make it conform to nature, tightened its throttling bands on the real vitality of the stage. Those who periodically wonder why the dramatists of the Elizabethan age--the greatest productive period in the history of the English stage--no longer hold the stage, with the exception of Shakespeare, and who lament that even Shakespeare is yielding his traditional place, have apparently given little thought to this loss of freedom as a contributing cause. While the writers of _vers libre_ have so far freed themselves that some of them have ceased to write poetry at all, it is a question whether the scenic freedom of the old dramatists may not have played such a vital part in the development of their art, that they owed to it at least some of their pre-eminence. Shakespeare's plays, as Shakespeare wrote them, read better than they act. Hundreds of Shakespeare-lovers have reached this conclusion, and many more have reached it than have dared to put it into words. The reason is, it seems to me, that we can not, on the modern stage, enact the plays of Shakespeare as he intended them to be acted--as he really wrote them. If we compare an acting edition of any of the plays with the text as presented by any good editor, this becomes increasingly clear. Shakespeare in his original garb, is simply impossible for the modern stage. The fact that the Elizabethan plays were given against an imaginary back-ground enabled the playwright to disregard the old, hampering unity of place more thoroughly than has ever been possible since his time. His ability to do so, was the result not of any reasoned determination to set his plays without "scenery," but simply of environment. As the scenic art progressed, the backgrounds became more and more realistic and less and less imaginary. The imagination of the audience, however, has always been more or less requisite to the appreciation of drama, as of any other art. No stage tree or house has ever been close enough to its original to deceive the onlooker. He always knows that they are imitations, intended only to aid the imagination, and his imagination has always been obliged to do its part. In Shakespeare's time the imagination did all the work; and as imaginary houses and trees have no weight, the services of the scene-shifter were not required to remove them and to substitute others. The scene could be shifted at once from a battlefield in Flanders to a palace in London and after the briefest of dialogues it could change again to a street in Genoa--all without inconveniencing anyone or necessitating a halt in the presentation of the drama. Any reflective reader of Shakespeare will agree, I think, that this ability to shift scenes, which after all, is only that which the novelist or poet has always possessed and still possesses, enables the dramatist to impart a breadth of view that was impossible under the ideas of unity that governed the drama of the Ancients. Greek tragedy was drama in concentration, a tabloid of intense power--a brilliant light focussed on a single spot of passion or exaltation. The Elizabethan drama is a view of life; and life does not focus, it is diffuse--a congeries of episodes, successive or simultaneous--something not re-producible by the ancient dramatic methods. Today, while we have not gone back to the terrific force of the Greek unified presentation, we have lost this breadth. We strive for it, but we can no longer reach it because of the growth of an idea that realism in _mise-en-scéne_ is absolutely necessary. Of course this idea has been injurious to the drama in more ways than the one that we are now considering. The notable reform in stage settings associated with the names of Gordon Craig, Granville Barker, Urban, Hume and others, arises from a conviction that _mise-en-scéne_ should inspire and reflect a mood--should furnish an atmosphere, rather than attempt to reproduce realistic details. To a certain extent these reforms also operate to simplify stage settings and hence to make a little more possible the quick transitions and the play of viewpoint which I regard as one of the glories of the Elizabethan drama. This simplification, however, is very far from a return to the absolute simplicity of the Elizabethan setting. Moreover, it is doubtful whether the temper of the modern audience is favorable to a great change in this direction. We live in an age of realistic detail and we must yield to the current, while using it, so far as possible, to gain our ends. This being the case, it is certainly interesting to find that, entirely without the aid or consent of those who have at heart the interests of the drama, a new dramatic form has grown up which caters to the utmost to the modern desire for realistic detail--far beyond the dreams of ordinary stage settings--and at the same time makes possible the quick transitions that are the glory of the Elizabethan drama. Here, of course, is where we make connection with the moving picture, whose fascinating realism and freedom from the taint of the footlights have perhaps been sufficiently insisted upon in what has been already said. In the moving picture, with the possibility of realistic backgrounds such as no skill, no money, no opportunity could build up on the ordinary stage--distant prospects, marvels of architecture, waving trees and moving animals--comes the ability of passing from one environment to another, on the other side of the globe perhaps, in the twinkling of an eye. The transitions of the Elizabethan stage sink into insignificance beside the possibilities of the moving-picture screen. Such an alternation as is now common in the film play, where two characters, talking to each other over the telephone, are seen in quick succession, would be impossible on the ordinary stage. The Elizabethan auditor, if his imagination were vivid and ready, might picture such a background of castle or palace or rocky coast as no photographer could produce; but even such imagination takes time to get under way, whereas the screen-picture gets to the brain through the retina instantly. It is worth our while, I think, to consider whether this kind of scenery, rich in detail, but immaterial and therefore devoid of weight, could not be used in connection with the ordinary drama. There are obstacles, but they do not appear insuperable. The ordinary moving-picture, of course, is much smaller than the back drop of a large stage. Its enlargement is merely a matter of optical apparatus. Wings must be reduced in number and provided each with its own projection-machine, or replaced with drops similarly provided. Exits and entrances must be managed somewhat differently than with ordinary scenery. All this is surely not beyond the power of modern stagecraft, which has already surmounted such obstacles and accomplished such wonders. The projection, it is unnecessary to say, must be from behind, not from before, to avoid throwing the actors' shadows on the scenery. There must still, of course, be lighting from the front, and the shadow problem still exists, but no more than it does with ordinary scenery. Its solution lies in diffusing the light. No spotlight could be used, and its enforced absence would be one of the incidental blessings of the moving scene. The advantages of this moving-picture scenery would be many and obvious. Prominent among them of course are fidelity to nature and richness of detail. The one, however, on which I desire to lay stress here is the flexibility in change of scene that we have lost with the introduction of heavy material "scenery" on our stages. This flexibility would be regained without the necessity of discarding scenery altogether and going back to the Elizabethan reliance on the imagination of the audience. Of course, moving scenery would not be required or desired in all dramatic productions--only in those where realistic detail combined with perfect flexibility and rapidity of change in scene seems to be indicated. The scenery should of course be colored, and while we are waiting for the commercial tri-chroic picture with absolutely true values, we may get along very well with the di-chroic ones, such as those turned out with the so-called Kinemacolor process. Those who saw the wonderful screen reproduction of the Indian durbar, several years ago, will realize the possibilities. And more than all else, may we not hope that these new backgrounds may react on the players who perform their parts in front of them? Not necessarily; for we have seen that it does not always do so in the present movie play. But I am confident that the change will come. Little by little the necessities of the case are developing actors who act naturally. One may pose in a canoe on a painted rapid; but how can he do so in the real water course, where every attitude, every play of the muscles must be adapted to the real propulsion of the boat? In short, the movie may ultimately require its presenters to be real, and so may come a school of realism in acting that may have its uses on the legitimate stage also. Who will be the first manager to experiment with this new adjunct to the art of the stage? A WORD TO BELIEVERS[17] [17] Address at the closing session of the Church School of Religious Instruction, St. Louis. People may be divided into a great many different classes according to their attitude toward belief and beliefs--toward the meaning and value of belief in general--toward their own beliefs and those of their neighbors. We have the man who does not know what "belief" means, and who does not care; the man whose idea of its meaning is perverse and wrong; the man who thinks his own beliefs are important and those of his neighbors are unimportant; the man who thinks it proper to base belief on certain considerations and not on others--the man, for instance, who will say he believes that two plus two equals four, but can not believe in the existence of God because the grounds for such belief can not be stated in the same mathematical symbols. These are only a few of the classes that might be defined, using this interesting basis of classification. But before we can take up the question of instruction in the church's beliefs, about which I have been asked to address you this evening, we must recognize the existence of these classes, and possibly the fact that you yourselves are not all in accord in the way in which you look at the subject. What I shall say is largely personal and you must not look upon me as representing anybody or anything. I may even fail to agree with some of the instruction that you have received in this interesting and valuable course. But I do speak, of course, as one who loves our church and as a loyal and I hope a thoughtful layman. First, what is belief? We surely give the word a wide range of values. A man says that he believes in his own existence, which the philosopher Descartes said was the most sure thing in the world--"_Cogito, ergo sum_." He also says that he believes it will rain to-morrow. What can there be in common between these two acts of faith? Between a certainty and a fifty per cent chance, or less? This--that a man is always willing to act on his beliefs; if not, they are not beliefs within the meaning of this address. If you believe it will rain, you take an umbrella. Your doing so is quite independent of the grounds for your belief. There may really be very little chance of its raining; but it is your belief that causes your action, no matter whether it is justified or not. You could not act more decisively if you were acting on the certainty of your own existence. It is this willingness to act that unifies our beliefs--that gives them value. If I heard a man declare his belief that a fierce wild animal was on his track, and if I then saw him calmly lie down and go to sleep on the trail, I should know that he was either insane or a liar. I have intimated above that belief may or may not be based on mathematical certainty. Fill up a basket with black and white pebbles and then draw out one. Let us create a situation that shall make it imperative for a person to declare whether a black or a white pebble will be drawn. For instance, suppose the event to be controlled by an oriental despot who has given orders to strike off the man's head if he announces the wrong color. Of course, if he has seen that only white pebbles went into the basket he says boldly "White." That is certainty. But suppose he saw one black pebble in the mass. Does he any the less say "White"? That one black pebble represents a tiny doubt; does it affect the direction of his enforced action? Suppose there were two black pebbles; or a handful. Suppose nearly half the pebbles were black? Would that make the slightest difference about what he would do? If you judge a man's belief by what he does, as I think you should do, that belief may admit of a good deal of doubt before it is nullified. Are your beliefs all based on mathematical certainties? I hope not; for then they must be few indeed. That many of our fellow men have a wrong conception of belief is a very sad fact. The idea that it must be based on a mathematical demonstration of certainty, or even that it must be free from doubt is surely not Christian. Our prayers and our hymns are full of the contrary. We are beset not only by "fightings" but by "fears"--"within; without;" by "many a conflict, many a doubt"; we pray to be delivered from this same doubt. The whole body of Christian doctrine is permeated with the idea that the true believer is likely to be beset by doubts of all kinds, and that it is his duty, despite all this, to believe. And yet there are many who will not call themselves Christians so long as they can not construct a rigid demonstration of every Christian doctrine. There are many thoughtful men who call themselves Agnostics just because they can not be mathematically sure of religious truth. Some of these men are better Christians than many that are so named. That they hold aloof from Christian fellowship is due to their mistaken notion of the nature of belief. The more is the pity. Now let us go back for a moment to our basket of pebbles. We have seen that the action of the guesser is based to some extent on his knowledge of the contents of the basket. In other words, he has grounds for the belief by which his act is conditioned. Persons may act without grounds; it may be necessary for them so to do. Even in this case there may be a sort of blind substitute for belief. A man, pursued by a bear, comes to a fork in the road. He knows nothing about either branch; one may lead to safety and one to a jungle. But he has to choose, and choose at once; and his choice represents his bid for safety. There is plenty of action of this sort in the world; if we would avoid the necessity for it we must do a little preliminary investigation; and if we can not find definitely where the roads lead, we may at least hit upon some idea of which is the safest. But with all our investigation we shall find that we must rely in the end on our trust in some person; either ourselves or someone else. Even the certainty of the mathematical formula depends on our confidence in the sanity of our own mental processes. The man who sees the basket filled with white pebbles must trust the accuracy of his eyesight. If he relies for his information on what someone else told him, he must trust not only that other's eyesight, but his memory, his veracity, his friendliness. And yet one may be far safer in trusting another than in relying on his own unaided powers. _Securus judicat orbis terrarum_, says the old Latin. "The world's judgment is safe." We have learned to modify this, for we have seen world judgments that are manifestly incorrect. The world thought the earth was flat. It thought there were witches, and it burned them. Here individuals simply followed one another like sheep; and all, like sheep, went astray. But where there is a real, independent judgment on the part of each member of a group, and all agree, that is better proof of its correctness than most individual investigations could furnish. My watch, of the best make and carefully regulated, indicates five o'clock, but if I meet five friends, each of whom tells me, independently, that it is six, I conclude that my watch is wrong. There was never a more careful scientific investigation than that by which a French physicist thought he had established the existence of what he called the "N ray"--examined its properties and measured its constants. He read paper after paper before learned bodies as his research progressed. He challenged the interest of his brother scientists on three continents. And yet he was entirely wrong: there never was any "N ray." The man had deceived himself. The failure of hundreds to see as he did weighed more than his positive testimony that he saw what he thought he saw. Here as elsewhere our view of what may be the truth is based on trust. If you trust the French physicist, you will still believe in the "N ray." Creeds, we are told, are outworn, and yet we are confronted, from birth to death, with situations that imperiously require action of some sort. Every act that responds must be based on belief of some kind. Creeds are only expressions of belief. The kind of Creed that _is_ outworn (and this is doubtless what intelligent persons mean when they make this statement) is the parrot creed, the form of words without meaning, the statement of belief without any grounds behind it or any action in front of it. For this the modern churchman has no use. And if he desires to avoid the parrot creed, he must surely inform himself regarding the meaning of its articles and the grounds on which they are held. More; he must satisfy himself of the particular meaning that they have for him and the personal grounds on which he is to hold them. This is the reason why such a course as that which you complete to-night is necessary and valuable. I have heard instruction of this kind deprecated as likely to bring disturbing elements into the mind. One may doubtless change from belief to skepticism by too much searching. It used to be a standing joke in Yale College, when I was a student there, that a well-known professor reputed to be an Atheist, had been perfectly orthodox until he had heard President Porter's lectures on the "Evidences of Christianity." But seriously, this objection is but another phase of the fallacy at which we have already glanced--that doubts are fatal to belief. I am certain that the professor in question might have examined in detail every one of President Porter's "Evidences," and found them wanting, only to discover clearer and stronger grounds of belief elsewhere--in his mere confidence in others, perhaps. Or he might have turned pragmatist and believed in Christianity because it "worked"--a valid reason in this case doubtless, but not always to be depended on; because the Father of Lies sometimes makes things "work" himself--at least temporarily. But if examining into the grounds of his belief makes a man honestly give up that belief, then I bid him God-speed. I may weep for him, but I cannot help believing that he stands better with his Maker for being honest with himself than if he had gone on with his parrot belief that meant absolutely nothing. I can not feel that the Aztecs who were baptized by the followers of Cortes were any more believers in Christianity after the ceremony than they were before. It seems to me, however that a Christian, examining faithfully the grounds of his belief, will usually have that belief strengthened, and that a churchman, examining the doctrines of the church will be similarly upheld. Not that church instruction should be one-sided. The teaching that tends to make us believe that every intelligent man thinks as we do reacts against itself. It is like the unfortunate temperance teaching that represents the liking for wine as always acquired. When the pupil comes to taste wine and finds that he likes it at once, he concludes that the whole body of instruction in the physiology of alcohol is false and acts accordingly. When a boy is taught that there is nothing of value beyond his own church, or nothing of value outside of Christianity, he will think less of his church, and less of Christianity when he finds intelligent, upright, lovable outsiders. I look back with horror on some of the books, piously prepared under the auspices of the S.P.C.K. in London, that I used to take home from Sunday School. In them we were told that a good man outside the church was worse than a bad man in it. If that was not the teaching in the book, it was at least the form in which it took lodgment in my boyish brain. Thank God it never found permanent foothold there. Instead, I hold in my memory the Eastern story of God's rebuke to Abraham when he expelled the Fire Worshipper from his tent. "Could you not bear with him for one hour? Lo! I have borne with him these forty years!" I have always thought that a knowledge of what our neighbors believe is an excellent balance-wheel to our own beliefs and that our own beliefs, so balanced, will be saner and more restrained. It would be well, I think, if we could have a survey of the world's religions, setting down in parallel columns all the faiths of mankind. If this is too great a task we might begin with a survey of Christianity, set down in the same way. I believe that the results of such a survey might surprise us, showing, as I think it would do, the many fundamentals that we hold in common and the trivial nature of some of the barriers that appear to separate us. In your course, just completed, you have had such a survey, I doubt not, of the beliefs of our own beloved church. Where her divines have differed, you have had the varying opinions spread before you. You have not been told that the mind of every churchman has always been a replica of the mind of every other churchman. Personally, I feel grateful that this has not been the case. As I say my creed and begin "I believe in God, the Father Almighty," I realize that the aspect of even such a basic belief as this, is the same in no two minds; that it shifts from land to land and from age to age. I know that God, as he is, is past human knowledge and that until we see Him face to face we can not all mean just the same thing when we repeat this article of belief. But I realize also that this is not due to the mutability of the Almighty but to man's variability. The Gods of St. Jerome, of Thomas Carlyle and of William James are different; but that is because these men had different types of minds. Behind their human ideas stands God himself--"the same yesterday, to-day and forever." So we may go through the creed; so we may study, as you have been doing, the beliefs of the church. Everywhere we see the evidences of the working, upon fallible human minds of a dim appreciation of something beyond full human knowledge-- "That one far-off divine event Toward which the Whole Creation moves." We have a wonderful church, my friends. It is a church to live with; a church to be proud of. Those who miss what we are privileged to enjoy are missing something from the fulness of life. We have not broken with the historic continuity of the Christian faith: there is no chasm, filled with wreckage, between us and the fathers of the church. Above all we have enshrined our beliefs in a marvellous liturgy, which is ever old and ever new, and which had the good fortune to be put into English at a day when the force of expression in our Mother tongue was peculiarly virile, yet peculiarly lovely. I know of nothing in the whole range of English literature that will compare with the collects as contained in our Book of Common Prayer, for beauty, for form, for condensation and for force. They are a string of pearls. And indeed, what I have said of them applies to the whole book. When I see Committees of well-meaning divines trying to tamper with it, I shudder as I might if I witnessed the attempt of a guild of modern sculptors to improve the Venus of Milo by chipping off a bit here and adding something there. Good reasons exist for changes, doubtless; but I feel that we have here a work of art, of divine art; and art is one of God's ways of reaching the human heart. We are proud that we have not discarded it from our church buildings, from our altars, from the music of our choirs. Let us treat tenderly our great book of Common Prayer, like that other great masterpiece of divine literary art, the King James version of the Bible. There are plenty of better translations; there is not one that has the same magic of words to fire the imagination and melt the heart. These are all trite things to say to churchmen: I have tried, on occasion, to say them to non-churchmen, but they do not seem to respond. There are those who rejoice in their break with historic continuity, who look upon a written form of service with horror. It is well, as I have said, for us to realize that our friends hold these opinions. One can not strengthen his muscles in a tug of war unless some one is pulling the other way. The savor of religion, like that of life itself, is in its contrasts. I thank God that we have them even within our own Communion. We are high-church and low-church and broad-church. We burn incense and we wear Geneva gowns. This diversity is not to be condemned. What is to be deprecated is the feeling among some of us that the diversity should give place to uniformity--to uniformity of their own kind, of course. To me, this would be a calamity. Let us continue to make room in our church for individuality. God never intended men to be pressed down in one mold of sameness. In the last analysis, each of us has his own religious beliefs. The doctrines of our church, or of any church are but a composite portrait of these beliefs. But when one takes such a portrait throughout all lands and in all time, and the features keep true, one can not help regarding them as the divine lineaments. This is how I would have you regard the beliefs of our church, as you have studied them throughout this course--as our particular composite photograph of the face of God, as He has impressed it on the hearts and minds of each one of us. I commend this view to those who have no reverence for beliefs, particularly when they are formulated as creeds. These persons mean that they have no regard for group beliefs but only for those of the individual. Each has his own beliefs, and he must have confidence in them, for they are the grounds on which he acts, if he is a normal man. Even the faith of an Agnostic is based on a very positive belief. As for me, I feel that the churchman goes one step beyond him: he even doubts Doubt. Said Socrates: "I know nothing except this one thing, that I know nothing. The rest of you are ignorant even of this." Socrates was a great man. If he had been greater still, he might have said something like this: "I freely acknowledge that a mathematical formula can not satisfy all the cases that we discuss. But neither can it be stated mathematically that they are all unknowable. I am not even sure that I know nothing." Surely, under these circumstances, we may give over looking for mathematical demonstrations and believe a few things on our own account--that our children love us--that our eyes do not deceive us; that the soul lives on; that God rules all. We may put our faith in what our own church teaches us, even as a child trusts his father though he can not construct a single syllogism that will increase that trust. This does not mean that we shall not benefit by examining the articles of our faith; by learning what they are, what they mean and what others have thought of them. The churchman must combine, in his mental habits, all that is best of the Conservative and the Radical. While holding fast that which is good he must keep an open mind toward every change that may serve to bring him nearer to the truth or give him a clearer vision of it. How we can insure this better than by such an institution as the Church School for Religious Instruction I am sure I do not see. May God guide it and aid it in its work! INDEX Abraham, Story of, 335 Action, test of belief, 332 Ade, George, 110, 170; fables in picture plays, 319 Adults and children, compared, 14 Advertisement of ideas, 127 Aldrich, T.B., 322 Alger, Horatio, 16, 174 America, Fluid customs in, 224 "America", hymn, 191 American Academy of Sciences, 57 American ancestry, 179; architecture, 218; art, 217; music, 218; philosophy, 220; religion, 219; thought, tendencies of, 213 American Association for the Advancement of Science, 50 American Library Association, 51 American Library Institute, 52 American readers, 42 Americanization, 17, 73 Americanization of England, 225 Ancestry, American, 179 Anglo-Saxon ancestry, 181 Architecture, American, 218 Archives, family, 184 Army, international, 159 Art, American, 217; effect of, 163 Art, Early forms of, 37 Association, value of, 45 Atoms of energy and action, 122 Attractiveness a selective feature, 26 Austen, Jane, 176 Author, Function of, 67 Authors Club, N.Y., 51 Auto-suggestion in drugs, 233 Aviation, Newcomb's opinion of, 86 Belief, What is?, 339 Bennett, Arnold, 175 Bible, King James Version, 337 Birth of a nation; picture play, 322 Book-stores, disappearance of, 238 Books in selective education, 27 "Book-Taught Bilkins", 89, 98 Book-titles, Possessive case in, 19 Boston tea-party, 183 Branch libraries, Reasons given for using, 11 British Association, 307 Brooklyn Public Library, 4 Brown, Susannah H., who was she? 281 Browsing, 27; uses of, 104 Bryce, James, quoted, 216 Buildings, Monumental, 141 Bulwer-Lytton, E.G.E.L., 86 Burbank, Luther, 24 Cabiria; motion picture play, 319, 322 Captions in motion pictures, 318 Carnegie, Andrew, 77 Carnegie Institution, 85, 306 Cartoonist, Anecdote of, 294 Centre, What is a?, 145 Centralized associations, 58 Certainty and belief, 330 Chaucer, 293 Chautauqua, 265 Chemistry, New drugs from, 232 Chicago Evening Post, quoted, 109 Chicago, Field houses in, 148 Chicago Women's Club, Paper before, 197 Children's editions, 6; rooms, 31 Christian Science and drugs, 233 Christianity, 331 Christmas book shows, 170 Church School of religious instruction, 329 Church, Use of symbols by, 188 Churches of Christ in America, Federation of, 220 Circulation by volumes, 6; publicity value of, 142; tables, 7, 8 Circulation, Publicity, 142 Civil Engineers, Society of, 52 Civil War, Notions of, 180 Classroom libraries, 29 Clergy, Slight influence of, 13 "Close-ups" in motion pictures, 317 Clubs that meet in libraries, 148 Clubwomen's reading, 259 Colloquial speech, 92 Color-photography in motion pictures, 327 Combat, Settlement by, 158 Commercial travellers, 198 Commission government, 216 Constitution, United States, 50, 214; amendment of, 226 Continuum, 116 Cook, Dr. Frederick, 95 Copyright conference, 53 Courses of reading, 268 Court, International, 159 Creeds, Uses of, 333 Crowd-psychology on a ferry, 247 Dante, 46 D'Annunzio, G., 322 Delivery stations in drug stores, 241 Democracy a result, 72; and ancestry, 186; and despotism, 213; conditions of, 209 Department stores, 238 Despotism and democracy, 213 Dickens, pathos of, 175 Disarmament, 161 Discontinuity of the universe, 124 Distribution of books, 67, 129 Distributor, Library as a, 198 Divorce, Freedom of, 217 Don Quixote, Heine on, 173 Drug-addiction, 234 Drugs and the man, 229 Eaton, Walter Pritchard, quoted, 316 Eclecticism in America, 213 Economic advertising, 130 Economic writings of Newcomb, 86 Education, American, 218; in recreation, 100; modern methods of, 63; of the community, 243; of the sexes, 273; post-scholastic, 30; selective, 23, 65; through books, 90 Efficiency in association, 48; What is? 257 Elizabethan drama, 323 Energetics, Theory of, 114 Energy, Atomic theories of, 113 England an elective monarchy. 214; rigid customs in, 224; source consciousness in, 182 Ephemeral, Meaning of, 36 Episcopalians, 220 Eyes, injured by small type, 302 Fairy tales, 75 Falsity in books, 39 Feminist movement, 267 Flag, what it stands for, 187 Fiction, 39; interest in, 137; intoxication by, 40, 100; uses of, 35 Fluids, Mixture of, 118 Force symbolized by flag, 194 Ford, Henry, 237 Freedom, What is? 192 Gallicism in book-titles, 22 Gary system, 246 Genealogy, American, 179 Gibbs, J. Willard, quoted, 118 Good-will, Influence of, 17 Government, Federal, 213 Gravitation, Law of, 83 Gray's Elegy, 111 Greek tragedy, 324 Group-action, 45; on a ferry, 247 Hall, G. Stanley, quoted, 253 Harvard Classics, 109 Heine, Heinrich, quoted, 173 Henry, Joseph, 80 Heredity, and memory, 73; History and, 179 Hertzian waves, 121 Hilgard, Julius, 80 Hill, G.W., 84 Holmes, Mary J., 104 Homer, Methods of, 198 Honesty, Lack of, 32 Huey, Book by, 305 Hunt, Leigh, 109 Huret, Jules, 41 Identity, Meaning of, 114 Impeachment, 214 Indicator, in English libraries, 225 Indifference to books, 133 Information in books, 94 Inspiration from books, 101 Intemperance in reading, 40, 100 Interest, Importance of, 287, 289; Necessity of, 5, 137 International agreements in science, 85 Internationalism, 159 Intoxication by fiction, 40, 100 Ivanhoe, 175 James, William, 138; founder of pragmatism, 221; quoted, 287 Keith, Cleveland, 84 Kent, William, quoted, 229 Kepler, quoted, 177 Kinemacolor process, 327 Kinetic theory, 120 Koopman, H.L., 308 Lagrange, 114 Languages, written and spoken, 90 Large type, Books in, 301 Law, Enforcement of, 158 Le Bon, Gustave, 45 Lee, Gerald Stanley, 77 Legibility of type, 306 Libbey, Laura Jean, 41, 104 Libraries, Economic features of, 67 Library associations. 49; Non-partisanship of, 70, 96, 152; Private basis of, 169 Lindsay, Vachell, 321 Lines, Length of on printed page, 309 Liouville's theorem, 123 Lippmann, Walter, quoted, 216, 228 Literature an art, 165; evaluation of, 95; static and dynamic, 35 Los Angeles Public Library, 96 Lower-case letters. 307 Loyalists, United Empire, 180 Lummis, Chas. F., 96 Lunar theory, 84 Magazines, Support of, 68 Magical remedies, 233 Magnet, Definition of, 87 Make-up in motion pictures, 317 Malemployment, 229 Maxwell Jas. Clerk, 115 Mayflower, The, 183 Medical Record, Strasburg, 305 Meetings in libraries, 147 Memory, Latent, 74 Meredith, Geo., 110 Mexican commission, 194 Military associations, 48 Mill, John Stuart, 243, 244 Mind, Male and female types, 272 Moderation, Lack of in America, 235 Mohammedanism, 219 Molecular theory, 115 Moon's motion, 84 Morals, Eclecticism in, 216 Morgan, J.P., 169 Motives of library users, 11 Moving pictures, 313 Municipal ownership and operation, 154 Music, American, 218 N-ray, 333 Narrative, earliest literary form, 37 National Academy of Fine Arts, 57 National Academy of Science, 52 National Education Association, 50; Address before, 145 Nautical Almanac, 80 New country, What is? 182 New England Society, 179 New York, Free Circulating Library, 19 New York, Library support in, 200; West side readers, 42 New York Public Library, 11, 30, 220 Newcomb, Simon, Sketch of, 79 Newspapers, 36 Newton, Isaac, 83 Non-partisanship of library, 250 Norris, Frank, 322 Omar Khayyam, 108 Open shelves, 104; Origin of, 225 Optic, Oliver, 174 Ostwald, Wilhelm, 114 Pacifism, 157 Pageant of St. Louis, 188 Pantomime in the motion picture, 320 Papers, Ready-made, for clubs, 270; scientific, 275 Pater, Walter, 168 Paulist fathers, 220 Pauperization, intellectual, 68 Pendleton, A.M., quoted, 140 Perry, Bliss, quoted, 211 Pharmacy, School of, address to, 229 Philadelphia Free Library, Address at, 67 Philosophy, an interesting subject, 133, 138; in America, 220 Phonograph, Uses of, 94 Physics made interesting, 138 Pickford, Mary, 247, 317 Planck, Max, 113, 120 Planets, Orbits of, 83 Players' Club, N.Y., 51 Pocahontas, 183 Poincaré, Henri, 113, 120 "Poison labels" for books, 96 Porter, Noah, 334 Posse, International, 159 Possessive case, Use of, 19 Pragmatism in America, 221 Prayer Book as literature, 337 Prescott, William H., 95 Press, Slight influence of, 13 Pride, Personal and group, 185 Princeton University, 219 Printing Art, magazine, 308 Programitis, club disease, 286 Programmes, Club, 268, 280, 295 Public as library owners, 205 Public Library, 169; eclecticism of, 221; people's share in, 197 Publicity, Library, 140 Publisher, Function of, 67 Puritanism, 219 Quanta, 121; hypothesis of, 113 Race-record, Library as a, 74 Radio-activity, 231 Rayleigh's Law, 120 Readers, Do they read? 3 Reading, mechanism of, 91; skill in, 135 Realism in education, 246; in motion pictures, 314 Recall, earliest form of, 213 Records, varieties of, 94 Recreation through books, 99 Religion in America, 219 Renewal, Preservation by, 97 Repetition a test of art, 166 Reprinting, Use of, 98 Re-reading, Art of, 163 Residual personality, 290 Resonators, 121 Revolution, American, notions of, 180; versus evolution, 279 Revue Scientifique, 113 Roethlin, Barbara E., 306 Roman Catholic Church, 220 Roman viewpoint in history, 181 Rome, decadence of, 227 Rousiers, Paul de., quoted, 55, 56, 57 St. Louis Academy of Science, paper before, 113 St. Louis, library tax in, 200 St. Louis Public Library, 140, 254, 302; meetings in, 150 Sampling books, 110 Scenery in motion pictures, 317; in Elizabethan drama, 323; made of motion pictures, 327 School libraries, 29 School, Non-partisanship of, 70; Community use of, 155 Schoolmen of N.Y., Paper before, 23 Scientific societies, 52 "See America First" movement, 191 Selection In nature, 23; mechanical, 47 Selective education, 65 Sex in library use, 15 Sexes, differences of, 272 Shakespeare, 178; changes in, 293; rank of, 168; unavailable for stage, 323 Shaw, Edw. R., 304 Social Centre movement, 145 Society for Psychical Research, 82 Society of Illuminating Engineers, 57 Socrates, quoted, 338 Sorolla, 164 Southern views of Civil War, 180 Spelling reform, 93 Staginess of the theatre, 315 Standard Dictionary, 87 Standards in literature, 36 Statistics of reading, actual, 4 Story-telling, 37; extraordinary, 282 Structure of energy, 118 Superficiality, meaning of, 105; 269 Swift, Dean, 208 Symbols, Use of, 188 Taste, literary, 171; origin of, 4 Tax, library, 200 Teacher, influence of, 13, 243 Text-books, Defects of, 270 Therapeutics, Changes in, 230 Tocqueville, de., quoted, 56 Toronto, University of, 220 Trade-literature, 98 Tradition, Uses of, 93 Travel, Foreign, in United States, 41 Trollope, Anthony, 176 Tutorial system, 219 Tyndall, John, 138 Type sizes, Standardization of, 304 Un-American, what is? 226 Unfitness, Elimination of, 24 Union, symbolized by flag, 189 Unity of place on the stage, 324 Universal City, 317 Value, Structure of, 119 Van Dyke, Henry, quoted, 193 Verne, Jules, 86 Violence, systematization of, 157 Vision, Conservation of, 305 Volumes, Statistics by, 4 Walton, Isaac, 165 War, European, 209, 249; status of, 158 Wesley, John, 46 West, source-consciousness of, 182 White, Gilbert, 165 Wien, Wilhelm, 122 Women's Clubs, 210; reading of, 259 Woodbury, George E., quoted, 219 
39087	----	ON THE SUPPLY OF PRINTED BOOKS FROM THE LIBRARY TO THE READING ROOM OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM "The requisition to insert the Titles and Press-marks on the tickets is not merely reasonable but it is indispensible, if the Library is to be conducted with satisfaction to the Public and to the Librarians. If people will not take the trouble to comply with Rules, which, so far from being vexatious, are absolutely necessary for their own comfort, they have no right to complain. The fault is _theirs_, if mistakes and delay arise; and it is as absurd as unjust to impute the effect of their own ignorance or carelessness to the Officers of the Museum." SIR NICHOLAS HARRIS NICOLAS. MDCCCXLVI. The publication of the annexed correspondence has been determined upon not for the pleasure of exposing the mistakes and inconsistencies of Sir Nicholas Harris Nicolas, but for the purpose of drawing the attention of those who take an interest in the collection of Printed Books in the British Museum to a most important part of its management, _viz._ the supply of books to readers. In order to make the correspondence intelligible, it will be necessary to explain not only the circumstances which gave rise to it, but also the system of arrangement adopted to secure a regular attendance upon the readers from the Library, as well as the reasons why this system has been suggested; and it is hoped that, when the whole system is carefully examined, it will not be found undeserving of that support, without which it is impossible that any scheme can be carried out. At the risk of entering into minute and very uninteresting particulars, well known to those who are conversant with the arrangements of a large Library, it is requisite to state that the books in that of the British Museum are found by certain references, Press-marks, or symbols, by which each work is identified with the corresponding entry of its Title in the Catalogue. The Title of a work marked in the Catalogue with, for instance, 500 _a_, means that the work itself is in the press which is numbered 500, and on the shelf of that press which is distinguished by letter _a_; if the mark be 500 _a_ 2, the meaning is that the work occupies the second place on that shelf; and if marked 500 a/6 2, that it is the sixth article in the 2nd vol. on shelf _a_ of press 500. A book being wanted, the shortest way by far is generally found to be (and in the greatest number of cases it is the only one) to search the Catalogue, find the Press-mark, and look for the book accordingly. In 1836, at my suggestion, an alteration in the then prevailing system was adopted, which the Committee of the House of Commons on the British Museum, then sitting, considered an improvement, and so it was universally pronounced to be. The question put to me on the subject by Lord Stanley, as well as my answer, are here inserted. "Will you state what improvement has been recently adopted in the New Transcript [of the Catalogue] with regard to reference?" "In the Catalogue of the British Museum, the one which we keep for the use of the Library, there are certain references given, or symbols, to know exactly where to find a book. In the Reading Room Catalogue those symbols were not put; I thought, and Mr. Baber thought also, that it would be an evident improvement to have in the Catalogue for the Reading Room, the same references as in the Catalogue of the Library, because the reader would have only to copy the title of the book as well as the reference, and instead of his ticket going to one of our men, who is obliged to look over the Catalogue inside to put the reference, the attendant would go direct with that ticket to the place where the book is, and carry it to the Reading Room immediately. It would be an economy of time for the readers, consequently an economy of time for our men, and consequently a saving of expense in the number of men. But there are other advantages attending this system. Often the readers come to ask for a book which was never printed, or which, if printed, is not in the Library or they write down the title as they have seen it elsewhere, not correctly quoted, and give it to one of the attendants. The attendant begins to look over all the Catalogues, and cannot find the book; he is afraid of being in the wrong; he loses a great deal of time, and the consequence is, that all the readers who have written correct tickets are kept waiting, by the fault of him who has written an incorrect one. By the new system, a person will be obliged to look in the Catalogue in order to put down the reference; he will therefore ascertain whether we have the book or not, and not give us useless trouble, and to the injury of other readers. Having given that reference, if it be wrong, it may be wrong because it is incorrectly put, and then we must answer for it; but if it be the fault of the reader, although I could find the book, I would, on principle, return the ticket, because all the other readers are inconvenienced by the carelessness of this one, and the returning the ticket would be the best mode of ensuring attention. By this means we shall save much time, and remove much of the inconvenience now complained of by the readers." It was found, however, that some readers, who neglected to comply with these rules, hindered the ready supply of books to those who did comply with them; and when, in 1837, I succeeded Mr. Baber as Keeper of the Printed Books Department, I thought of suggesting printed tickets or formulæ, according to which books were to be asked for by merely filling them up. The following is an exact specimen of these tickets: -----------+-----------------------------------+-----+--------+------ Press Mark.| Title of the Work wanted. |Size.| Place. | Date. -----------+-----------------------------------+-----+--------+------ | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | -----------+-----------------------------------+-----+--------+------ (Date) ___________________________ (Signature). Please to restore each volume of the Catalogue to its place, as soon as done with. On the reverse it is as follows: READERS ARE _PARTICULARLY_ REQUESTED 1. Not to ask for more than _one work_ on the same ticket. 2. To transcribe _literally_ from the Catalogues the title of the Work wanted. 3. To write in a plain clear hand, in order to avoid delay and mistakes. 4. Before leaving the Room, to return the books to an attendant, and to obtain the corresponding ticket, the READER BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR THE BOOKS SO LONG AS THE TICKET REMAINS UNCANCELLED. N.B. Readers are, under no circumstances, to take any Book or MS. out of the Reading Rooms. Can any one say that to request readers to fill up such a form _correctly_, and to comply with these rules, is giving unnecessary trouble? My suggestion was approved of by Sir H. Ellis,--under whose especial control the management of the Reading Room is placed,--and who, moreover, proposed that the same system should be adopted for MSS.; which was done accordingly with the concurrence of Sir F. Madden, and the sanction of the Trustees. It has continued in operation ever since for both departments; but no attack has been made upon any one but myself for this scheme. The improvement was all but unanimously acknowledged to be very great; and no one rendered more justice to its merits, to the motives which led to its adoption, and to its beneficial results than Sir N. Harris Nicolas, who, having heard that a reader had expressed some dissatisfaction, addressed to me the following letter: "Torrington Square, 20th October, 1837. "MY DEAR SIR, "Having heard to-day, with great surprise, that a Reader of the Library of the British Museum had expressed dissatisfaction at the new regulations which you have introduced for obtaining Books, I take the liberty of offering you the opinion of a person who has constantly used the Library for sixteen years, and who, perhaps, is not very likely to be suspected of bestowing indiscriminate or venal praise. "The great object of a Public Library is _dispatch_ in procuring books. This can only be secured by _perspicuity_ in describing them. "In my humble judgment, no better mode could possibly be devised for immediately obtaining any particular work, than the printed tickets you have suggested. By specifying the Titles from the Catalogue, and copying from it the _Press-marks_, the applicant can at once identify the particular edition, or copy of an edition, which he requires. The importance of this to a critical student is obvious; and I cannot shew the utility of the _new_ system more forcibly, than by saying that I have often, formerly, been assured that a book was not in the Museum, though I had myself referred to it only a few days before. The requisition to insert the Titles and Press-marks on the tickets is not merely reasonable, but it is indispensible, if the Library is to be conducted with satisfaction to the Public and to the Librarians. If people will not take the trouble to comply with rules, which, so far from being vexatious, are absolutely necessary for their own comfort, they can have no right to complain. The fault is _theirs_ if mistakes or delay ensue; and it is as absurd, as unjust, to impute the effect of their own ignorance or carelessness to the Officers of the Museum. "The only thing I can suggest about the new tickets is, that the _Press-marks_ should be made more _simple_; but this is so manifest, and is so entirely dependant upon the re-arrangement of the Library, that it would be ridiculous to say another word on the subject. "As to _dispatch_ in procuring books. Not only does my own experience convince me of the great improvements which have taken place since your last appointment, but such is the opinion of every one whom I have heard speak of the Museum; and I have long had daily opportunities of witnessing your courtesy and earnest desire to render your Department as beneficial as possible to the Public. To point out a defect, or to suggest an improvement, is to secure your attention; and, as a matter of common justice, I anxiously bear testimony to the change which has taken place since your promotion. You have done wonders in a few weeks; and I pray you not to allow the caprice or folly of individuals to affect your exertions. "Believe me, with great esteem, my dear Sir, very sincerely yours, &c." This letter stated almost all that could be said in favour of the plan: it seemed to express opinions maturely considered; I was therefore unprepared to hear condemned, as unnecessary and vexatious, (_See_ No. X.) what had been pronounced by the same writer, as not only not vexatious, but absolutely necessary. The plea, that "he usually writes and speaks from the impression of the moment," may as easily be alleged in defence of his present as of his former judgment, and lead people to trust neither. But although that letter sets forth what can be said in favour of the plan which it praises, it touches but slightly on those hindrances, which carelessness or malice can alike produce to defeat its success. Any person, who, from either cause, gives wrong references, who writes illegibly, who misdescribes a book, who misspells the name of an author, who asks for a large number of books at the same moment, who will not take the trouble to deliver his tickets to the proper person, but leaves them about to be lost or mislaid, who has recourse to the pettiest devices to create a grievance for the purpose of complaining of it, such a person will certainly be kept occasionally waiting; and how can it be otherwise? Yet these are the very persons who complain most, avoiding, however, investigation, when they would be proved wrong, and writing anonymously to newspapers, stating truly, it may be, the fact of having been kept waiting, but taking good care to render it impossible to prove that it was by their fault. This is not all: the endeavours made to correct their mistakes and to decipher their handwriting, take much time; and the delay is not unfrequently turned against the officers and servants of the Museum, who are actually found fault with for doing more than they are bound to do. Meanwhile, readers who have done all that is required of them are probably kept waiting; and though they may submit in silence to the inconvenience, they cannot help feeling dissatisfied with what seem to be defects in the management of the Library. The _justice_ of the complaint which gave rise to the following correspondence, will have been rendered more intelligible by this preliminary information. The facts are as follows:-- On the 18th of May, Sir N. H. Nicolas asked for five works at once. Four out of five of these works were brought to him within half an hour, as he himself states; and on the supposition, that he, in his first letter, had complained of delay, I, in answer, (No. II.) expressed my regret at the occurrence. In letter No. III. Sir Nicholas says, "I did not make any complaint respecting the _four_ books, because I am so accustomed to such a delay, that I consider it a matter of course, though certainly not one of necessity." I quote this passage as it affords the most conclusive proof of the _despatch_ in obtaining books in the Reading Rooms of the British Museum, and of the unreasonableness of such readers as Sir N. H. Nicolas. I assert without fear of contradiction, that, in none of the great public Libraries in the world, equal in extent to that of the British Museum, is one single reader supplied with four out of five works, which he asks for at once, at the rate of seven minutes and a half each work, nor even in double that time. The very fact that Sir N. Harris Nicolas considers such a delay a matter, "not of necessity," proves to what he is reduced for want of solid ground of complaint. I expressed a regret, for which there was no occasion, for peace sake, and because the moment I got Sir N. H. Nicolas's first letter, I suspected, that, an article against the Museum Library in the _Spectator_ of the day before being his, his letter was only a peg for a _querelle d'Allemand_, which I should have been most glad to avoid. With these feelings I wrote letter No. II. There are in the old printed and "useful" catalogue, from which Sir N. H. Nicolas took what he wrote on his ticket, three distinct works by the same author, the entries of which are as follows:-- BURCHETT (JOSIAH) Memoirs of Transactions at Sea during the War with France; beginning in 1688, and ending 1697. 8^{o} _Lond._ 1703. (806 _b_)/2-------Mr. Burchett's Justification on his Naval-Memoirs, in answer to Reflections made by Col. Lillingston, or that part which relates to Cape François and Port de Paix. 8^{o} _Lond._ 1704. 581 _i_-----------A Complete History of the most remarkable Transactions at Sea, from the earliest Accounts of Time, to the conclusion of the War with France, fol. _Lond._ 1720. It appears from Sir N. H. Nicolas's first letter, that the work he wanted was the last; and had he given a ticket somewhat as follows, there is no doubt he would have got the book in five minutes:-- -----------+-------------------------------------+------+-------+----- Press Mark.| Title of the Work wanted. |Size. |Place. |Date. -----------+-------------------------------------+------+-------+----- | | | | |_Burchett (Josiah) A complete history| | | 581 _i_ | of the most remarkable transactions |_fol._|_Lond._|1720. | at Sea, &c._ | | | | | | | -----------+-------------------------------------+------+-------+----- (Date) _May 18th, 1846._ _N. Harris Nicolas._ (Signature) Please to restore each volume of the Catalogue to its place, as soon as done with. Instead of this, he gave a ticket, of which the following is a _fac-simile_:-- [Illustration] Now the attention of those who take an interest in this matter is particularly requested to the following details, every one of them trifling indeed, and yet all springing from the ticket which was given, and more than enough to show the consequences which followed from the carelessness of its writer:-- After having sent into the Reading Room _four_ out of the five books asked for by Sir N. H. Nicolas--which, as he states, took half an hour--and therefore, as nearly as possible, at half-past three, the same attendant went in search of the fifth, marked 581 _i_. He found that 581 _i_ contained only _folios_, and he did not, therefore, and very properly, lose more of his time in looking for an octavo, which was written for; he had lost enough by being sent to a place where what was wanted could not be. In justice to the other readers, as well as to the department, the ticket ought to have been at once returned to Sir N. H. Nicolas, marked "wrong," in order that he might have corrected his own mistakes. If a reader's mistakes are to be corrected by the attendants, all the evils arising from the old system, as described in my evidence before the House of Commons, are increased; for in addition to the loss of time in finding what a reader wants, there is the previous and additional loss caused by the error of the applicant, in directing an attendant to look for a work where it could not be. This loss of time proves injurious chiefly to the other readers; and it is "for their own comfort" that readers are requested to comply with the rules, without causing an attendant to waste the public time to discover what an individual applicant may want, which no one can know so well as the applicant himself. The attendant, however, being newly appointed, and being anxious to serve Sir N. H. Nicolas, set about trying to find what was wanted. The first difficulty which presented itself was to make out the ticket, so badly written as almost to defy the eye of a man unaccustomed to the hand. A consultation was held with another attendant (and thus the loss of time of another man added to the former) and the name _Burchett_ being made out, the Catalogue was referred to, and the three entries found as already transcribed. The ticket, let it be remembered, contained only the words "Burchett's History of Transactions at Sea, 8^{o}. fvr 1704," without saying for what period. The first of the three entries began with the words "Memoirs of Transactions at Sea," and related to an 8vo. printed at London in 1703; _Memoirs_ and _History_ are not the same words; yet, as a mistake had occurred, might this not be the book, the date, 1703, being so near to 1704? The second entry was to be sure, of an 8vo. printed at London, in 1704; but then it was not a History of Transactions at Sea; the third entry, besides being a History not of Transactions at Sea, like the _Memoirs_, but only of the most remarkable ones, was a folio, not an 8vo. and printed in 1720, not 1704: It stood, however, in 581 _i_. In doubt which was the book wanted, the attendant not unnaturally supposed it might be the first; but then the entry had no Press-mark which could enable him to ascertain the fact by looking at the book itself: this led him to make a third attendant likewise lose some time to examine into the circumstances; who, knowing more of the Library, (having been longer in it) perceived that this entry was unmarked, because the volume to which it referred had been sold as duplicate of one in the Royal Library, where the preserved copy would be found. The first attendant then transferred the ticket to a fourth well acquainted with the Royal Collection; and this fourth attendant, after all proper enquiries, came to the correct conclusion, that the "Memoirs" were not wanted; but, as he could not say which work was, he returned the ticket to the attendant from whom he had received it. Now there was yet a chance of making out the meaning of the writer of that ticket, and that was to examine the identical copy of the volume of the Catalogue kept in the Reading Room, from which the ticket ought to have been copied, and to see whether all this trouble was caused by an error in it, which might have misled Sir N. H. Nicolas. To ascertain this the attendant went to examine that volume, but with no better result, and he was still unable to discover where the error lay. Whilst all this was going on, Sir N. H. Nicolas complained once and only once to Scott the attendant, who did not tell him that he had corrected a wrong Press-mark given for the book, as stated, nor that "he had often applied for it." To Mr. Grabham and to Scott Sir N. H. Nicolas pointed out in the Catalogue the book he wanted. Scott went into the Library, found the attendant, assisted by another, still endeavouring to discover the book, and on the entry being pointed out by Scott, as it had been to him by Sir Nicholas, the attendant went with the Catalogue in his hand to show to this gentleman whence the delay arose, and to express _his great sorrow_ that Sir Nicholas should have been kept waiting: He, moreover, told Sir Nicholas that he should now have the book in five minutes. Sir N. H. Nicolas did not, however, seem satisfied, and allowed the attendant to have the additional trouble of finding the book in a hurry; yet, as soon as he had heard that it would be forthcoming in five minutes, Sir Nicholas _left the room_, without waiting the few minutes requisite to find it, and went away; most fortunately leaving behind him the ticket, which enables me to show the real state of the case. And he complains of having been kept waiting an hour and a half for one book! The fact is, he was kept waiting one hour--for during the first half hour he had got four other books--and who can wonder at it? And who has more right to complain, the reader of the officers, or the officers of the reader? The only reader who had a right to complain, _but who did not_, although he considered the delay _unusual_, was Mr. Fairholt, who wanted to look at a work merely to correct a proof sheet which he had brought with him, and who had asked for it very correctly, but who could not obtain it for more than half an hour, whilst the time of six persons was more or less wasted on Sir N. Harris Nicolas, who complains of the attendant, after not only a good explanation but a respectful apology, and who, moreover, ventures to assert in his Correspondence (See Letter No. X) that I justify the attendant "in refusing the book," whereas nothing can be clearer than that the attendants, one and all, far from refusing any book, did all they could, and more than they were bound, to find it, and that Sir Nicholas was fully aware of this, when he wrote that letter. If any one among those who act under my direction, fails in his duty, I never shall hesitate in taking proper notice of it; but I will never allow any of them, whatever be his station, to be unjustly accused without defending him. When I answered Sir N. Harris Nicolas's first letter, I very briefly stated only such facts as proved the injustice of his accusation, without giving any opinion whatever: the reasons for my moderation have been given. This moderation did not avail me much. Sir N. H. Nicolas was not only dissatisfied with my letter, but, in his reply, (No. III.) he shifted his ground, and complained of "the difficulties and delay arising from the present regulations, and the state of the Catalogues." If the difficulties and delay arise from the regulations, then his complaint of neglect against the attendant was a most ungenerous proceeding; and if he thought this complaint well grounded, he would not complain of the system. As he talked of the attention of the Trustees being called to this subject, I begged of him (No. IV. and V.) to prove what he had asserted--the truth of the habitual delay, and its cause. He declined the offer (which a man, convinced of the veracity of his statements, would have willingly accepted) and wrote in a much lower tone. (No. VI.) I again called on him to specify his charges, (No. VII.) and told him that his unfavourable opinions must be "of a _recent_ date." He denied this, carefully avoiding entering into any particulars, but went on with generalities, (No. VIII.) except as to "Press-marks, &c." which he declared to be the source of delay. In answer to this _recent_ accusation, I employed the very arguments and words which he himself had long before used in praise of this very system and arrangement. (No. IX.) His own words and arguments made him still more dissatisfied, and he vehemently condemned them. (No. X.) Upon which I sent him, enclosed in No. XI. a copy of his own letter of the 20th of October, 1837; and, as he had been taunting me with what he had printed and meant to print against me, I called on him to print along with it this letter. This he declined to do, (No. XII.) though, in the _Spectator_ of the 30th of May, he continued his attacks--not without some awkwardness, however, now that he knew the proof I had of what he had so indignantly denied, the _recent_ date of his unfavourable opinions. In the course of the Correspondence, Sir N. H. Nicolas endeavoured to drag me into a controversy about Catalogues, and a variety of other points connected with the Library. I did not feel disposed to enter into a profitless discussion with such an adversary. In the _Spectator_, too, he has indulged in making assertions, and passing sentence on every thing which he assumes that I have ever done, or now do. I shall not defend myself, except before a competent judge. Whenever an inquiry, which I have courted, (Letters No. IV. and V.) and still court, and from which Sir Nicholas Harris Nicolas has shrunk, and will shrink, shall take place, either before the Trustees, or before any "higher authority" whatever, I will prove, what I stated in my Letter No. XI., that no reliance can be placed on his opinions and assertions. I shall take no further notice, either of anything that Sir N. Harris Nicolas may say, or of any anonymous attack whatsoever. A. PANIZZI. BRITISH MUSEUM, _June 5th, 1846_. CORRESPONDENCE BETWEEN SIR NICHOLAS H. NICOLAS AND MR. PANIZZI. No. I. _Sir N. H. Nicolas to Mr. Panizzi._ Torrington Square, 18th May, 1846. MY DEAR SIR, I beg leave to acquaint you with what occurred to me to-day in the Reading Room of the British Museum, thinking it a proper subject of complaint. At a few minutes after three o'clock, I wrote, according to the present forms, for _five_ books. After half an hour four of them were brought me. The fifth, viz. "Burchett's complete History of Transactions at Sea," not having appeared, I spoke twice to Mr. Scott, who assured me that he had often applied for it, and that on his last application he was told that I had given a wrong Press-mark, which he had corrected. I denied that I had given a wrong Press-mark. At _half-past four_ I again asked for the book; and a strong observation having caused the gentleman who succeeded Mr. Cates to attend to the matter, he ascertained that I had given both the Title and the Press-mark _correctly_. A person then came to me from the Library. His first excuse was, that though the Press-mark and the Title were correctly given, I had erroneously quoted the date! This was true; but I submit that when a Press-mark, and a Title are correctly stated, the book ought to be forthcoming; or, at all events, that some explanation should be afforded _before an hour and a half_. I told him so; and his excuse then was, that _he_ had _only_ had my ticket _half an hour_, and that he had sent me FOUR books! How far this may be a justification it is for you to judge; and I leave the facts without comment for your consideration, I remain, &c. I ought to add, that the person's manner was _not_ disrespectful. No. II. _Mr. Panizzi to Sir N. H. Nicolas._ British Museum, May 19th, 1846. MY DEAR SIR, I hasten to answer your letter of yesterday's date, which I have this moment received. With reference to the delay of which you complain in the delivery of four out of five of the works you asked, it is now impossible for me to find on whom the fault rests. Had you informed me of the delay at the moment, I might have been more successful. The attendant who sent those four works to the Reading Room has not been here long; and may, therefore, have been less prompt in finding them than a more experienced hand might have been, and I regret it. As to the fifth book, it appears from your letter that you required a folio printed at London in 1720. You have, however, given on the ticket the size as 8vo. the place as "fvr," which, may be, is meant for London, and the date 1704. There is in the catalogue a work of Burchett different from the one you wanted, and immediately preceding it, "8vo. Lond. 1704." You mistook this part of the entry of what you did _not_ want, and applied it to what you did. Should you not deem this answer satisfactory, I will thank you by your informing me of it, that I may lay your complaint before the Trustees. Believe me, &c. No. III. _Sir N. H. Nicolas to Mr. Panizzi._ Torrington Square, 19th May, 1846. MY DEAR SIR, In reply to your letter I beg leave to say, that your explanation is wholly unsatisfactory to me. I did not make any complaint respecting the _four_ books, because I am so accustomed to such a delay, that I consider it a matter of course, though certainly not one of necessity. With respect to the _fifth_ book, I am of opinion that the _title only_ ought to be--as it would have been in the time of your predecessors--sufficient. I did however give, and correctly, the _Press-mark_, and there is no other book in the English language with that title. It is idle to pretend that, because a mistake was made as to its size and date, which, in the instance of a work of which there is only _one_ edition, cannot be necessary, and ought not to be required, there was any difficulty in finding the volume. If there had really been any doubt as to the work I required, why was not the question asked me, or _both_ books brought? whereas no notice whatever was taken of my application for _an hour and a half_, and then only because I insisted upon its being attended to. You seem to think that I should have informed you of the delay in bringing the _four_ books. I rejoice that I did not waste my time in such a manner; for now, when I do complain of a flagrant act of neglect, you think fit to justify it, by imputing it to myself, in not having given correctly that which ought not to be required. My next complaint shall be to the Trustees themselves. I pray of you to use your own discretion about submitting this correspondence to the Trustees. It is the less material to me whether you do or do not do so, inasmuch as I am perfectly sure that their attention must very shortly be called by the Public or by the Government to the difficulties and delay, arising from the present regulations and the state of the Catalogues, in obtaining printed books. Believe me, &c. No. IV. _Mr. Panizzi to Sir N. H. Nicolas._ May 20th, 1846. MY DEAR SIR, Your letter of the 19th, as well as my answer and your reply of yesterday, shall be laid before the Trustees. No one will rejoice more than myself at a thorough investigation of any part of my conduct, brought on by avowed and specific complaints in an open and straightforward manner. Believe me, &c. No. V. _The same to the same._ May 22nd, 1846. MY DEAR SIR The Trustees meet to-morrow (Saturday, May 23rd) at one o'clock, p.m. Our correspondence shall be submitted to them, simply with a request on my part that they be pleased to inquire into all the circumstances to which it refers. I shall consider it a favour if you will bring before them all the charges you have to make against me, and be ready to substantiate them. Believe me, &c. No. VI. _Sir N. H. Nicolas to Mr. Panizzi._ Torrington Square, May 22nd, 1846. MY DEAR SIR, When my letters to you (including, if you please, the present one) are submitted to the Trustees, they will learn that in my opinion a great change is necessary in the regulations of the Reading Room, and I beg leave to assure you that I am perfectly ready to avow and maintain to the Trustees everything which I may have at any time, or in any place said or written on the subject, should they think proper to ask me to do so. It may assuredly be permitted to me, as one of the Public, to complain to the Head of any department of neglect in that department, and even to consider (as I most certainly do with respect to yours) that many of its proceedings, however well intended, are detrimental to the Public, and require to be altered, without being told that I am "bringing charges" against you, which I am invited to "substantiate," as if I were accusing you of misconduct. Believe me, &c. No. VII. _Mr. Panizzi to Sir N. H. Nicolas._ May 23rd, 1846. MY DEAR SIR, Notwithstanding the concluding part of your letter of yesterday, which shall be submitted to the Trustees with the rest of our correspondence, I think that to find fault with my Department implies a charge against myself; still more so, as in your second letter you began by declaring--that my first was, "wholly unsatisfactory,"--that in the time of my predecessors things were better managed, by their requiring only the Title of the books wanted by readers, and no Press-mark,--that "your next complaint" should be to the Trustees themselves; and concluded by stating that their attention "must shortly be called by the Public, or by Government, to the difficulties and delay arising from the present regulations and state of the catalogues, in obtaining printed books." These are certainly charges, and I naturally expected you would do me the favour to bring them before the Trustees, so that I might have an opportunity of proving them groundless. I am glad that you now give me credit for good intentions; but as you still consider that "many of my proceedings are detrimental to the Public, and require to be altered," I shall feel obliged by your informing me what are the proceedings to which you allude: I presume that your unfavourable opinion of them is of a _recent_ date. Believe me, &c. No. VIII. _Sir N. H. Nicolas to Mr. Panizzi._ Torrington Square, 24 May, 1846. MY DEAR SIR, I am favoured with your letter of yesterday. As you have referred our correspondence to the Trustees, and as my letters advert to those arrangements in your Department, which I consider detrimental to the Public, it is possible that I may be requested by the Trustees to state my objections more fully, when you will have an opportunity of answering them. If, however, the Trustees do not do so, you may be assured that you shall have ample information on the subject. To enter into a personal discussion with a gentleman who is so perfectly satisfied of the propriety of his own measures, as to invite it, only that he may prove my objections to them "groundless;" and who, when complained to of a flagrant act of neglect in his Department, thought proper to justify it,--would manifestly be an utter waste of time. There must be an appeal to a higher authority: and which is the more necessary because you may not be answerable for all, though you certainly are for much, of what seems to be improper in your Department. You are mistaken in supposing that my unfavourable opinion on those points is of a "_recent_ date." My sentiments respecting "Press-marks," &c. have long been entertained and expressed. I have also long thought that the delay in completing the catalogue was unjustifiable; but not having carefully examined its plan until a few weeks ago, or been acquainted with your last reports, I was not aware of its imperfections until lately. It is candid to acquaint you that the opinions which I entertain about "Press-marks," and the delay in obtaining printed books are shared by every literary man to whom I have spoken; that no one can account for the delay in completing the catalogue; and that none approve of its plan. The general feeling appears to be similar to my own,--namely, that the effect of the system you have introduced is to keep all the _working_ part of literary men out of the Library until they are _actually compelled to refer to it_. You must admit that this question is one of deep interest to literature: and as I do not imagine that you _desire_ or _intend_ to produce such results, I may, without any personal offence, presume to think that you have made some serious mistakes. Believe me, &c. No. IX. _Mr. Panizzi to Sir N. H. Nicolas._ British Museum, May 25th, 1846. MY DEAR SIR, I have to acknowledge your letter of yesterday, and as, do what I may, I cannot prevail upon you to reduce to a definite and tangible shape the vague and serious charges which you have volunteered against me, I must have patience, and wait till you bring them before the "higher authority" of which you speak; when, as you foresee, I may show that I am "not answerable for all," though you, with characteristic fairness, have begun by supposing that I was. The only one of your charges, about which you venture to come to something like particulars,--that relating to the Press-marks, &c.--I cannot avoid showing to be utterly "groundless;" and I am confident that you will agree with me in spite of your unfavourable opinion, which I persist in thinking "of a recent date." "The great object of a Public library is despatch in procuring books. This can only be secured by _perspicuity_ in describing them. In my humble judgment no better mode could possibly be devised for obtaining any particular work than the printed tickets which I suggested in 1837, and which are now in use. By specifying the Titles from the Catalogue, and copying from it the _Press-marks_, the applicant can at once identify the particular edition or copy of an edition which he requires. The importance of this to a critical student is obvious; and I cannot show the utility of the new system more forcibly than by appealing to your own experience, which will bear me out in saying that readers have often--before the introduction of those tickets--been assured that a book was not in the Museum, though they had themselves referred to it only a few days before. The requisition to insert the Titles and Press-marks on the tickets is not merely reasonable, but it is indispensible, if the Library is to be conducted with satisfaction to the Public and to the Librarians. If people will not take the trouble to comply with rules, which, so far from being vexatious, are absolutely necessary for their own comfort, they can have no right to complain. The fault is _theirs_, if mistakes or delay ensue; and it is as absurd as it is unjust to impute the effect of their own ignorance or carelessness to the Officers of the Museum."[A] I thank you for your candour in acquainting me, "that the opinion which you entertain about Press-marks and the delay in obtaining printed books is shared by every literary man to whom you have spoken." To be as candid with you, I beg to say that the experience of every one who has been heard speak of the Museum has convinced him of the great improvements which have taken place since my last appointment. I now beg that you will do me the favour to give me your authority for your assertion; I shall be most happy to give you mine, for one so directly at variance with yours. I am, &c. No. X. _Sir N. H. Nicolas to Mr. Panizzi._ Torrington Square, 26th May, 1846. MY DEAR SIR, The sooner a correspondence with a gentleman who will not understand what would be perfectly intelligible to every body else, who perverts the obvious meaning of courteous expressions, who affects to disbelieve a distinct assurance, and who ventures to accuse another of "unfairness," adding that it is "characteristic," is concluded, the better. All which I have yet said of your proceedings as Keeper of the Printed Books, is, as I have no doubt you are aware, before the Public; and I only wait until my comments are finished to send you a copy of them "_from the Author_." You will find that in my opinion, 1. You have introduced regulations into the Library which are vexatious and unnecessary, and impede research by preventing literary men from consulting the Books with facility and comfort. 2. That the new Catalogue is improperly delayed; and that its plan is injudicious, if not impracticable, and therefore that the money spent on its compilation is wasted. With respect to "_Press-marks_" my objection is, as you cannot but know, not to their being inserted in the Catalogue, to be used if a Reader desires to identify a particular copy of a book, but _to your insisting, as a sine quâ non_ to the delivery of any book whatever,--no matter how well known it may be--that the applicant shall refer to the Catalogue, _and fill up five columns_ "LITERALLY," including the "Press-mark." I say this is vexatious and unnecessary. In one hundred out of one hundred and five cases, the Title itself, written from memory, ought to be, as (I repeat it) it was in the time of your predecessors, sufficient. If a particular edition is wanted, the applicant will not fail to specify it. If he has a doubt as to the title or edition, he will then refer to the Catalogue. But in my case, when I had copied both the Title and the Press-mark, I could not obtain the book, and you justify the neglect. I entirely deny that your system causes a quicker delivery of books. On the contrary, I declare from experience that the delay is now much greater than it was before you introduced your scheme. A Reader is still, sometimes, told that a book is not in the Library, though he may have used it only a few days before. Perhaps you may not have forgotten the Index to the Despatches of the Duke of Wellington, which you insisted with "characteristic" gentleness, was not in the Library, though I over and over again told you I had had it in my hands within a week.--I persisted, and the book was brought to me in ten minutes after your vehement assurances that it was not in the Museum! So much for the working of your system.[B] You say the fault in these cases is the applicant's, for not complying with all your regulations; and you coolly talk of their imputing "the effect of their own ignorance or carelessness to the Officers of the Museum." I answer, that the Officers of the Museum have no right to impose regulations which are vexatious and unnecessary; which give useless trouble, and cause great loss of time. The applicants may almost as reasonably be expected to copy the whole of the first and last pages of books, as what you require; and because an _unimportant_ mistake is made as to the date and size of a book, of which there is only one edition, and no similar Title in the English language, the salaried Officer of the Institution refuses, or rather justifies his subordinate in refusing the book, and thinks it decorous and proper to taunt him with "ignorance or carelessness." There is nothing so attractive in this controversy as to induce me to bring others into it; and if you do not choose to believe my assertion, I cannot help it. I have not presumed to doubt anything you have said, nor to impute improper motives to your conduct. But courtesy is a matter of feeling, and I have no right to expect you to imitate me. I must again say, that the matters under discussion can only be settled by a higher authority than yours. _You_ have brought the subject before the Trustees,--_I_ have, as I usually do on subjects which concern the Public, laid the facts before the Public. You can vindicate your proceedings either to the Trustees or to the Public. I avow and maintain all I have, and all I may yet say; but I decidedly decline to continue this correspondence, because I am sure it can lead to no desirable result, and for the other reasons which I have assigned. I consider the subject one of a _Public Nature_, and regret to perceive that you are angry; for, until your last letter, I had determined to avoid making any _personal remark_ likely to displease you. Believe me, &c. I can have no sort of objection to your laying this and my last letter, together with the communication which you will receive from me on Monday next, before the Trustees, if you see fit. No. XI. _Mr. Panizzi to Sir N. H. Nicolas._ May 27th, 1846. SIR, I am surprised to find that the expressions which displease you most in my letter of the 26th instant, are those which I transcribed _verbatim_ from one which you volunteered to write to me in 1837,[C] and of which I enclose a copy. You _then_ warmly approved of those very arrangements which you _now_ so violently condemn. I call upon you to publish the enclosed along with the observations which you are to send me on Monday next, in order that all unprejudiced and sincere persons may judge what reliance is to be placed on the opinions and assertions of a man endowed with so flexible a judgment, and so treacherous a memory. I am, &c. No. XII. _Sir N. H. Nicolas to Mr. Panizzi._ Torrington Square, 26 May, 1846. SIR, Your communication of this day induces me, most reluctantly, to add one more letter to our correspondence. It is proper that I should advert to my letter of the 20th of October, 1837, of which you have made so candid and gentlemanly, and, if I condescended to imitate your style, I might say, so "_characteristic_" a use. The production of that letter gives me neither surprise nor concern. I usually write and speak from the impression of the moment, and must expect occasionally, especially after an interval of nearly nine years, to find some inconsistencies in my opinions. In this case, however, the inconsistency is more apparent than real; but, be it great or small, you are welcome to any use you can make of it. The facts, as you well know, were these: In 1837 it seems that I was not satisfied with the management of the Reading Room, as the time in obtaining printed books was greater than it had formerly been. You succeeded to the Department, and introduced the Rules which have in practice proved inconvenient, but which were supposed to do much, within the first few weeks after your appointment, to remedy the evil. It seems also that you made other improvements, and that the changes elicited my praise. Experience has, however, proved that I was mistaken; and I have long since seen my mistake. So long as the apparent effect lasted, it appeared to justify the apparent cause. It was better to give ten minutes to the Catalogue, than to wait three, not to say six times as long (as I have often done of late) for a book. The additional trouble, however, remains, without the advantage which alone justified its imposition. It is really too much to oblige Readers to waste their time over the Catalogue, and to revert to worse than the old delays. So long as your plan worked well, I approved of it. For some years past it has worked ill, and I have condemned it. You wisely tried an experiment, but you unwisely continue the plan, though it has failed. I have no reluctance to avow a change in my opinions, whenever it has been produced by a change in the circumstances on which it was formed; but I have no respect for mulish obstinacy, or bigotted self sufficiency. You may be sure that if a convenient opportunity be afforded me for printing my letter to you of October, 1837, it shall, after collation with the original, be published. But I will not separate it from this correspondence. The English Public would learn with astonishment the manner in which, by a series of _unmarked_ quotations, a generous letter may be perverted to ungenerous purposes. I am, &c. P. S. Should you possess any letter from me commending the _plan_ of the _Catalogue_, I should be very happy to add it to our recent correspondence. N. H. N. LONDON: PRINTED BY CHARLES WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT, 1846. FOOTNOTES: [A] The passages marked with inverted commas in praise of what Sir N. H. Nicolas now condemns, are, _mutatis mutandis_, from his own letter of the 20th of October, 1837, inserted above, p. 5. They were not so marked in my original letter of the 25th of May. Sir Nicholas complains of this in the following words: "The English Public would learn with astonishment, the manner in which, by a series of _unmarked_ quotations, a generous letter may be perverted to ungenerous purposes." The purpose for which I used his letter, was my own defence against his attacks,--his own former words being the most triumphant answer to his _recent_ opinions; and I do not see why I should be found fault with, because I have shown that Sir Nicholas unsays _now_ what he has formerly said, though he denied having said it. Does he mean to avow at last, that he has ventured to attack me _recently_, because he had forgotten, _not_ his former opinions, (opinions so strongly entertained are _not_ forgotten) but his having expressed them? A. P. [B] It seems--from the impression which others have of this occurrence which I have totally forgotten,--that Sir N. H. Nicolas could not obtain the Index, because it was not entered in the Catalogue; whence I concluded that it was not in the Library. If all this be true, it only proves _an error in the Catalogue_; but it has nothing to do with the working of the system, as Sir N. H. Nicolas must know as well as I do. A. P. [C] This letter has been inserted above, page 7. * * * * * TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: Text in italics is surrounded with underscores: _italics_. Inconsistencies in spelling and hyphenation have been retained from the original. Punctuation errors have been corrected without note. Superscripted characters are indicated by a carat character with the superscripted characters in curly braces: 8^{o}. 
5198	----	Transcribed by Mark Sherwood, e-mail mark.sherwood@btinternet.com "THE LIBRARY", by GEORGE CRABBE THE ARGUMENT. {1} Books afford Consolation to the troubled Mind by substituting a lighter kind of Distress for its own--They are productive of other Advantages--An Author's Hope of being known in distant times-- Arrangement of the Library--Size and Form of the Volumes--The ancient Folio, clasped and chained--Fashion prevalent even in this Place--The Mode of publishing in Numbers, Pamphlets &c.--Subjects of the different Classes--Divinity--Controversy--The Friends of Religion often more dangerous than her Foes--Sceptical Authors-- Reason too much rejected by the former Converts; exclusively relied upon by the latter--Philosophy ascending through the Scale of Being to Moral Subjects--Books of Medicine: their Variety, Variance, and Proneness to System: the Evil of this, and the Difficulty it causes--Farewell to this Study--Law: the increasing Number of its Volumes--Supposed happy State of Man without Laws--Progress of Society--Historians: their Subjects--Dramatic Authors, Tragic and Comic--Ancient Romances--The Captive Heroine--Happiness in the perusal of such Books: why--Criticism--Apprehensions of the Author: removed by the Appearance of the Genius of the Place; whose Reasoning and Admonition conclude the subject. When the sad soul, by care and grief oppress'd, Looks round the world, but looks in vain for rest; When every object that appears in view Partakes her gloom and seems dejected too; Where shall affliction from itself retire? Where fade away and placidly expire? Alas! we fly to silent scenes in vain; Care blasts the honours of the flow'ry plain: Care veils in clouds the sun's meridian beam, Sighs through the grove, and murmurs in the stream; For when the soul is labouring in despair, In vain the body breathes a purer air: No storm-tost sailor sighs for slumbering seas,- He dreads the tempest, but invokes the breeze; On the smooth mirror of the deep resides Reflected woe, and o'er unruffled tides The ghost of every former danger glides. Thus, in the calms of life, we only see A steadier image of our misery; But lively gales and gently clouded skies Disperse the sad reflections as they rise; And busy thoughts and little cares avail To ease the mind, when rest and reason fail. When the dull thought, by no designs employ'd, Dwells on the past, or suffer'd or enjoy'd, We bleed anew in every former grief, And joys departed furnish no relief. Not Hope herself, with all her flattering art, Can cure this stubborn sickness of the heart: The soul disdains each comfort she prepares, And anxious searches for congenial cares; Those lenient cares, which with our own combined, By mix'd sensations ease th' afflicted mind, And steal our grief away, and leave their own behind; A lighter grief! which feeling hearts endure Without regret, nor e'en demand a cure. But what strange art, what magic can dispose The troubled mind to change its native woes? Or lead us willing from ourselves, to see Others more wretched, more undone than we? This BOOKS can do;--nor this alone; they give New views to life, and teach us how to live; They soothe the grieved, the stubborn they chastise, Fools they admonish, and confirm the wise: Their aid they yield to all: they never shun The man of sorrow, nor the wretch undone: Unlike the hard, the selfish, and the proud, They fly not sullen from the suppliant crowd; Nor tell to various people various things, But show to subjects what they show to kings. Come, Child of Care! to make thy soul serene, Approach the treasures of this tranquil scene; Survey the dome, and, as the doors unfold, The soul's best cure, in all her cares, behold! Where mental wealth the poor in thought may find, And mental physic the diseased in mind; See here the balms that passion's wounds assuage; See coolers here, that damp the fire of rage; Here alt'ratives, by slow degrees control The chronic habits of the sickly soul; And round the heart and o'er the aching head, Mild opiates here their sober influence shed. Now bid thy soul man's busy scenes exclude, And view composed this silent multitude:- Silent they are--but though deprived of sound, Here all the living languages abound; Here all that live no more; preserved they lie, In tombs that open to the curious eye. Blest be the gracious Power, who taught mankind To stamp a lasting image of the mind! Beasts may convey, and tuneful birds may sing, Their mutual feelings, in the opening spring ; But Man alone has skill and power to send The heart's warm dictates to the distant friend; 'Tis his alone to please, instruct, advise Ages remote, and nations yet to rise. In sweet repose, when Labour's children sleep, When Joy forgets to smile and Care to weep, When Passion slumbers in the lover's breast, And Fear and Guilt partake the balm of rest, Why then denies the studious man to share Man's common good, who feels his common care? Because the hope is his, that bids him fly Night's soft repose, and sleep's mild power defy; That after-ages may repeat his praise, And fame's fair meed be his, for length of days. Delightful prospect! when we leave behind A worthy offspring of the fruitful mind! Which, born and nursed through many an anxious day, Shall all our labour, all our care repay. Yet all are not these births of noble kind, Not all the children of a vigorous mind; But where the wisest should alone preside, The weak would rule us, and the blind would guide; Nay, man's best efforts taste of man, and show The poor and troubled source from which they flow; Where most he triumphs we his wants perceive, And for his weakness in his wisdom grieve. But though imperfect all; yet wisdom loves This seat serene, and virtue's self approves:- Here come the grieved, a change of thought to find; The curious here to feed a craving mind; Here the devout their peaceful temple choose; And here the poet meets his favouring Muse. With awe, around these silent walks I tread; These are the lasting mansions of the dead:- "The dead!" methinks a thousand tongues reply; "These are the tombs of such as cannot die!" Crown'd with eternal fame, they sit sublime, "And laugh at all the little strife of time." Hail, then, immortals! ye who shine above, Each, in his sphere, the literary Jove; And ye the common people of these skies, A humbler crowd of nameless deities; Whether 'tis yours to lead the willing mind Through History's mazes, and the turnings find; Or, whether led by Science, ye retire, Lost and bewilder'd in the vast desire; Whether the Muse invites you to her bowers, And crowns your placid brows with living flowers; Or godlike Wisdom teaches you to show The noblest road to happiness below; Or men and manners prompt the easy page To mark the flying follies of the age: Whatever good ye boast, that good impart; Inform the head and rectify the heart. Lo, all in silence, all in order stand, And mighty folios first, a lordly band ; Then quartos their well-order'd ranks maintain, And light octavos fill a spacious plain: See yonder, ranged in more frequented rows, A humbler band of duodecimos; While undistinguish'd trifles swell the scene, The last new play and fritter'd magazine. Thus 'tis in life, where first the proud, the great, In leagued assembly keep their cumbrous state; Heavy and huge, they fill the world with dread, Are much admired, and are but little read: The commons next, a middle rank, are found; Professions fruitful pour their offspring round; Reasoners and wits are next their place allowed, And last, of vulgar tribes a countless crowd. First, let us view the form, the size, the dress; For these the manners, nay the mind, express: That weight of wood, with leathern coat o'erlaid; Those ample clasps, of solid metal made; The close-press'd leaves, unclosed for many an age; The dull red edging of the well-fill'd page; On the broad back the stubborn ridges roll'd, Where yet the title stands in tarnish'd gold; These all a sage and labour'd work proclaim, A painful candidate for lasting fame: No idle wit, no trifling verse can lurk In the deep bosom of that weighty work; No playful thoughts degrade the solemn style, Nor one light sentence claims a transient smile. Hence, in these times, untouch'd the pages lie, And slumber out their immortality: They HAD their day, when, after after all his toil, His morning study, and his midnight oil, At length an author's ONE great work appeared, By patient hope, and length of days, endear'd: Expecting nations hail'd it from the press; Poetic friends prefix'd each kind address; Princes and kings received the pond'rous gift, And ladies read the work they could not lift. Fashion, though Folly's child, and guide of fools, Rules e'en the wisest, and in learning rules; From crowds and courts to "Wisdom's seat she goes And reigns triumphant o'er her mother's foes. For lo! these fav'rites of the ancient mode Lie all neglected like the Birthday Ode. Ah! needless now this weight of massy chain; {2} Safe in themselves, the once-loved works remain; No readers now invade their still retreat, None try to steal them from their parent-seat; Like ancient beauties, they may now discard Chains, bolts, and locks, and lie without a guard. Our patient fathers trifling themes laid by, And roll'd, o'er labour'd works, th' attentive eye: Page after page the much-enduring men Explored the deeps and shallows of the pen: Till, every former note and comment known, They mark'd the spacious margin with their own; Minute corrections proved their studious care; The little index, pointing, told us where; And many an emendation show'd the age Look'd far beyond the rubric title-page. Our nicer palates lighter labours seek, Cloy'd with a folio-NUMBER once a week; Bibles, with cuts and comments, thus go down: E'en light Voltaire is NUMBER'D through the town: Thus physic flies abroad, and thus the law, From men of study, and from men of straw; Abstracts, abridgments, please the fickle times, Pamphlets and plays, and politics and rhymes: But though to write be now a task of ease, The task is hard by manly arts to please, When all our weakness is exposed to view, And half our judges are our rivals too. Amid these works, on which the eager eye Delights to fix, or glides reluctant by, When all combined, their decent pomp display, Where shall we first our early offering pay? To thee, DIVINITY! to thee, the light And guide of mortals, through their mental night; By whom we learn our hopes and fears to guide; To bear with pain, and to contend with pride; When grieved, to pray; when injured, to forgive; And with the world in charity to live. Not truths like these inspired that numerous race, Whose pious labours fill this ample space; But questions nice, where doubt on doubt arose, Awaked to war the long-contending foes. For dubious meanings, learned polemics strove, And wars on faith prevented works of love; The brands of discord far around were hurl'd, And holy wrath inflamed a sinful world:- Dull though impatient, peevish though devout, With wit disgusting, and despised without; Saints in design, in execution men, Peace in their looks, and vengeance in their pen. Methinks I see, and sicken at the sight, Spirits of spleen from yonder pile alight; Spirits who prompted every damning page, With pontiff pride and still-increasing rage: Lo! how they stretch their gloomy wings around, And lash with furious strokes the trembling ground! They pray, they fight, they murder, and they weep,- Wolves in their vengeance, in their manners sheep; Too well they act the prophet's fatal part, Denouncing evil with a zealous heart; And each, like Jonah, is displeased if God Repent his anger, or withhold his rod. But here the dormant fury rests unsought, And Zeal sleeps soundly by the foes she fought; Here all the rage of controversy ends, And rival zealots rest like bosom-friends: An Athanasian here, in deep repose, Sleeps with the fiercest of his Arian foes; Socinians here with Calvinists abide, And thin partitions angry chiefs divide; Here wily Jesuits simple Quakers meet, And Bellarmine has rest at Luther's feet. Great authors, for the church's glory fired, Are for the church's peace to rest retired; And close beside, a mystic, maudlin race, Lie "Crumbs of Comfort for the Babes of Grace." Against her foes Religion well defends Her sacred truths, but often fears her friends: If learn'd, their pride, if weak, their zeal she dreads, And their hearts' weakness, who have soundest heads. But most she fears the controversial pen, The holy strife of disputatious men; Who the blest Gospel's peaceful page explore, Only to fight against its precepts more. Near to these seats behold yon slender frames, All closely fill'd and mark'd with modern names; Where no fair science ever shows her face, Few sparks of genius, and no spark of grace; There sceptics rest, a still-increasing throng, And stretch their widening wings ten thousand strong; Some in close fight their dubious claims maintain; Some skirmish lightly, fly, and fight again; Coldly profane, and impiously gay, Their end the same, though various in their way. When first Religion came to bless the land, Her friends were then a firm believing band; To doubt was then to plunge in guilt extreme, And all was gospel that a monk could dream; Insulted Reason fled the grov'lling soul, For Fear to guide, and visions to control: But now, when Reason has assumed her throne, She, in her turn, demands to reign alone; Rejecting all that lies beyond her view, And, being judge, will be a witness too: Insulted Faith then leaves the doubtful mind, To seek for truth, without a power to find: Ah! when will both in friendly beams unite, And pour on erring man resistless light? Next to the seats, well stored with works divine, An ample space, PHILOSOPHY! is thine; Our reason's guide, by whose assisting light We trace the moral bounds of wrong and right; Our guide through nature, from the sterile clay, To the bright orbs of yon celestial way! 'Tis thine, the great, the golden chain to trace, Which runs through all, connecting race with race; Save where those puzzling, stubborn links remain, Which thy inferior light pursues in vain:- How vice and virtue in the soul contend; How widely differ, yet how nearly blend; What various passions war on either part, And now confirm, now melt the yielding heart: How Fancy loves around the world to stray, While Judgment slowly picks his sober way; The stores of memory, and the flights sublime Of genius, bound by neither space nor time; - All these divine Philosophy explores, Till, lost in awe, she wonders and adores. From these, descending to the earth, she turns, And matter, in its various forms, discerns; She parts the beamy light with skill profound, Metes the thin air, and weighs the flying sound; 'Tis hers the lightning from the clouds to call, And teach the fiery mischief where to fall. Yet more her volumes teach,--on these we look As abstracts drawn from Nature's larger book: Here, first described, the torpid earth appears, And next, the vegetable robe it wears; Where flow'ry tribes, in valleys, fields, and groves, Nurse the still flame, and feed the silent loves; Loves where no grief, nor joy, nor bliss, nor pain, Warm the glad heart or vex the labouring brain; But as the green blood moves along the blade, The bed of Flora on the branch is made; Where, without passion love instinctive lives, And gives new life, unconscious that it gives. Advancing still in Nature's maze, we trace, In dens and burning plains, her savage race With those tame tribes who on their lord attend, And find in man a master and a friend; Man crowns the scene, a world of wonders new, A moral world, that well demands our view. This world is here; for, of more lofty kind, These neighbouring volumes reason on the mind; They paint the state of man ere yet endued With knowledge;--man, poor, ignorant, and rude; Then, as his state improves, their pages swell, And all its cares, and all its comforts, tell: Here we behold how inexperience buys, At little price, the wisdom of the wise; Without the troubles of an active state, Without the cares and dangers of the great, Without the miseries of the poor, we know What wisdom, wealth, and poverty bestow; We see how reason calms the raging mind, And how contending passions urge mankind: Some, won by virtue, glow with sacred fire; Some, lured by vice, indulge the low desire; Whilst others, won by either, now pursue The guilty chase, now keep the good in view; For ever wretched, with themselves at strife, They lead a puzzled, vex'd, uncertain life; For transient vice bequeaths a lingering pain, Which transient virtue seeks to cure in vain. Whilst thus engaged, high views enlarge the soul, New interests draw, new principles control: Nor thus the soul alone resigns her grief, But here the tortured body finds relief; For see where yonder sage Arachne shapes Her subtile gin, that not a fly escapes! There PHYSIC fills the space, and far around, Pile above pile her learned works abound: Glorious their aim- to ease the labouring heart; To war with death, and stop his flying dart; To trace the source whence the fierce contest grew, And life's short lease on easier terms renew; To calm the phrensy of the burning brain; To heal the tortures of imploring pain; Or, when more powerful ills all efforts brave, To ease the victim no device can save, And smooth the stormy passage to the grave. But man, who knows no good unmix'd and pure, Oft finds a poison where he sought a cure; For grave deceivers lodge their labours here, And cloud the science they pretend to clear; Scourges for sin, the solemn tribe are sent; Like fire and storms, they call us to repent; But storms subside, and fires forget to rage. THESE are eternal scourges of the age: 'Tis not enough that each terrific hand Spreads desolations round a guilty land; But train'd to ill, and harden'd by its crimes, Their pen relentless kills through future times. Say, ye, who search these records of the dead- Who read huge works, to boast what ye have read; Can all the real knowledge ye possess, Or those--if such there are--who more than guess, Atone for each impostor's wild mistakes, And mend the blunders pride or folly makes ? What thought so wild, what airy dream so light, That will not prompt a theorist to write? What art so prevalent, what proof so strong, That will convince him his attempt is wrong? One in the solids finds each lurking ill, Nor grants the passive fluids power to kill; A learned friend some subtler reason brings, Absolves the channels, but condemns their springs; The subtile nerves, that shun the doctor's eye, Escape no more his subtler theory; The vital heat, that warms the labouring heart, Lends a fair system to these sons of art; The vital air, a pure and subtile stream, Serves a foundation for an airy scheme, Assists the doctor, and supports his dream. Some have their favourite ills, and each disease Is but a younger branch that kills from these; One to the gout contracts all human pain; He views it raging in the frantic brain; Finds it in fevers all his efforts mar, And sees it lurking in the cold catarrh: Bilious by some, by others nervous seen, Rage the fantastic demons of the spleen; And every symptom of the strange disease With every system of the sage agrees. Ye frigid tribe, on whom I wasted long The tedious hours, and ne'er indulged in song; Ye first seducers of my easy heart, Who promised knowledge ye could not impart; Ye dull deluders, truth's destructive foes; Ye sons of fiction, clad in stupid prose; Ye treacherous leaders, who, yourselves in doubt, Light up false fires, and send us far about;- Still may yon spider round your pages spin, Subtile and slow, her emblematic gin! Buried in dust and lost in silence, dwell, Most potent, grave, and reverend friends--farewell! Near these, and where the setting sun displays, Through the dim window, his departing rays, And gilds yon columns, there, on either side, The huge Abridgments of the LAW abide; Fruitful as vice the dread correctors stand, And spread their guardian terrors round the land; Yet, as the best that human care can do Is mix'd with error, oft with evil too, Skill'd in deceit, and practised to evade, Knaves stand secure, for whom these laws were made, And justice vainly each expedient tries, While art eludes it, or while power defies. "Ah! happy age," the youthful poet sings, "When the free nations knew not laws nor kings, When all were blest to share a common store, And none were proud of wealth, for none were poor, No wars nor tumults vex'd each still domain, No thirst of empire, no desire of gain; No proud great man, nor one who would be great, Drove modest merit from its proper state; Nor into distant climes would Avarice roam, To fetch delights for Luxury at home: Bound by no ties which kept the soul in awe, They dwelt at liberty, and love was law!" "Mistaken youth! each nation first was rude, Each man a cheerless son of solitude, To whom no joys of social life were known, None felt a care that was not all his own; Or in some languid clime his abject soul Bow'd to a little tyrant's stern control; A slave, with slaves his monarch's throne he raised, And in rude song his ruder idol praised; The meaner cares of life were all he knew; Bounded his pleasures, and his wishes few; But when by slow degrees the Arts arose, And Science waken'd from her long repose; When Commerce, rising from the bed of ease, Ran round the land, and pointed to the seas; When Emulation, born with jealous eye, And Avarice, lent their spurs to industry; Then one by one the numerous laws were made, Those to control, and these to succour trade; To curb the insolence of rude command, To snatch the victim from the usurer's hand; To awe the bold, to yield the wrong'd redress, And feed the poor with Luxury's excess." {3} Like some vast flood, unbounded, fierce, and strong, His nature leads ungovern'd man along; Like mighty bulwarks made to stem that tide, The laws are form'd, and placed on ev'ry side; Whene'er it breaks the bounds by these decreed, New statutes rise, and stronger laws succeed; More and more gentle grows the dying stream, More and more strong the rising bulwarks seem; Till, like a miner working sure and slow, Luxury creeps on, and ruins all below; The basis sinks, the ample piles decay; The stately fabric, shakes and falls away; Primeval want and ignorance come on, But Freedom, that exalts the savage state, is gone. Next, HISTORY ranks;--there full in front she lies, And every nation her dread tale supplies; Yet History has her doubts, and every age With sceptic queries marks the passing page; Records of old nor later date are clear, Too distant those, and these are placed too near; There time conceals the objects from our view, Here our own passions and a writer's too: Yet, in these volumes, see how states arose! Guarded by virtue from surrounding foes; Their virtue lost, and of their triumphs vain, Lo! how they sunk to slavery again! Satiate with power, of fame and wealth possess'd, A nation grows too glorious to be blest; Conspicuous made, she stands the mark of all, And foes join foes to triumph in her fall. Thus speaks the page that paints ambition's race, The monarch's pride, his glory, his disgrace; The headlong course, that madd'ning heroes run, How soon triumphant, and how soon undone; How slaves, turn'd tyrants, offer crowns to sale, And each fall'n nation's melancholy tale. Lo! where of late the Book of Martyrs stood, Old pious tracts, and Bibles bound in wood; There, such the taste of our degenerate age, Stand the profane delusions of the STAGE: Yet virtue owns the TRAGIC MUSE a friend, Fable her means, morality her end; For this she rules all passions in their turns, And now the bosom bleeds, and now it burns; Pity with weeping eye surveys her bowl, Her anger swells, her terror chills the soul; She makes the vile to virtue yield applause, And own her sceptre while they break her laws; For vice in others is abhorr'd of all, And villains triumph when the worthless fall. Not thus her sister COMEDY prevails, Who shoots at Folly, for her arrow fails; Folly, by Dulness arm'd, eludes the wound, And harmless sees the feather'd shafts rebound; Unhurt she stands, applauds the archer's skill, Laughs at her malice, and is Folly still. Yet well the Muse portrays, in fancied scenes, What pride will stoop to, what profession means; How formal fools the farce of state applaud; How caution watches at the lips of fraud; The wordy variance of domestic life; The tyrant husband, the retorting wife; The snares for innocence, the lie of trade, And the smooth tongue's habitual masquerade. With her the Virtues too obtain a place, Each gentle passion, each becoming grace; The social joy in life's securer road, Its easy pleasure, its substantial good; The happy thought that conscious virtue gives, And all that ought to live, and all that lives. But who are these? Methinks a noble mien And awful grandeur in their form are seen, Now in disgrace: what though by time is spread Polluting dust o'er every reverend head; What though beneath yon gilded tribe they lie, And dull observers pass insulting by: Forbid it shame, forbid it decent awe, What seems so grave, should no attention draw! Come, let us then with reverend step advance, And greet--the ancient worthies of ROMANCE. Hence, ye profane! I feel a former dread, A thousand visions float around my head: Hark! hollow blasts through empty courts resound, And shadowy forms with staring eyes stalk round; See! moats and bridges, walls and castles rise, Ghosts, fairies, demons, dance before our eyes; Lo! magic verse inscribed on golden gate, And bloody hand that beckons on to fate:- "And who art thou, thou little page, unfold? Say, doth thy lord my Claribel withhold? Go tell him straight, Sir Knight, thou must resign The captive queen;--for Claribel is mine." Away he flies; and now for bloody deeds, Black suits of armour, masks, and foaming steeds; The giant falls; his recreant throat I seize, And from his corslet take the massy keys:- Dukes, lords, and knights, in long procession move, Released from bondage with my virgin love:- She comes! she comes! in all the charms of youth, Unequall'd love, and unsuspected truth! Ah! happy he who thus, in magic themes, O'er worlds bewitch'd, in early rapture dreams, Where wild Enchantment waves her potent wand, And Fancy's beauties fill her fairy land; Where doubtful objects strange desires excite, And Fear and Ignorance afford delight. But lost, for ever lost, to me these joys, Which Reason scatters, and which Time destroys; Too dearly bought: maturer judgment calls My busied mind from tales and madrigals; My doughty giants all are slain or fled, And all my knignts--blue, green, and yellow--dead! No more the midnight fairy tribe I view, All in the merry moonshine tippling dew; E'en the last lingering fiction of the brain, The churchyard ghost, is now at rest again; And all these wayward wanderings of my youth Fly Reason's power, and shun the light of Truth. With Fiction then does real joy reside, And is our reason the delusive guide? Is it then right to dream the syrens sing? Or mount enraptured on the dragon's wing? No; 'tis the infant mind, to care unknown, That makes th' imagined paradise its own; Soon as reflections in the bosom rise, Light slumbers vanish from the clouded eyes: The tear and smile, that once together rose, Are then divorced; the head and heart are foes: Enchantment bows to Wisdom's serious plan, And Pain and Prudence make and mar the man. While thus, of power and fancied empire vain, With various thoughts my mind I entertain; While books, my slaves, with tyrant hand I seize, Pleased with the pride that will not let them please, Sudden I find terrific thoughts arise, And sympathetic sorrow fills my eyes; For, lo! while yet my heart admits the wound, I see the CRITIC army ranged around. Foes to our race! if ever ye have known A father's fears for offspring of your own; If ever, smiling o'er a lucky line, Ye thought the sudden sentiment divine, Then paused and doubted, and then, tired of doubt, With rage as sudden dash'd the stanza out;- If, after fearing much and pausing long, Ye ventured on the world your labour'd song, And from the crusty critics of those days Implored the feeble tribute of their praise; Remember now the fears that moved you then, And, spite of truth, let mercy guide your pen. What vent'rous race are ours! what mighty foes Lie waiting all around them to oppose! What treacherous friends betray them to the fight! What dangers threaten them--yet still they write: A hapless tribe! to every evil born, Whom villains hate, and fools affect to scorn: Strangers they come, amid a world of woe, And taste the largest portion ere they go. Pensive I spoke, and cast mine eyes around; The roof, methought, return'd a solemn sound; Each column seem'd to shake, and clouds, like smoke, From dusty piles and ancient volumes broke; Gathering above, like mists condensed they seem, Exhaled in summer from the rushy stream; Like flowing robes they now appear, and twine Round the large members of a form divine; His silver beard, that swept his aged breast, His piercing eye, that inward light express'd, Were seen,--but clouds and darkness veil'd the rest. Fear chill'd my heart: to one of mortal race, How awful seem'd the Genius of the place! So in Cimmerian shores, Ulysses saw His parent-shade, and shrunk in pious awe; Like him I stood, and wrapt in thought profound, When from the pitying power broke forth a solemn sound:- "Care lives with all; no rules, no precepts save The wise from woe, no fortitude the brave; Grief is to man as certain as the grave: Tempests and storms in life's whole progress rise, And hope shines dimly through o'erclouded skies. Some drops of comfort on the favour'd fall, But showers of sorrow are the lot of ALL: Partial to talents, then, shall Heav'n withdraw Th' afflicting rod, or break the general law? Shall he who soars, inspired by loftier views, Life's little cares and little pains refuse? Shall he not rather feel a double share Of mortal woe, when doubly arm'd to bear? "Hard is his fate who builds his peace of mind On the precarious mercy of mankind; Who hopes for wild and visionary things, And mounts o'er unknown seas with vent'rous wings; But as, of various evils that befall The human race, some portion goes to all; To him perhaps the milder lot's assigned Who feels his consolation in his mind, And, lock'd within his bosom, bears about A mental charm for every care without. E'en in the pangs of each domestic grief, Or health or vigorous hope affords relief; And every wound the tortured bosom feels, Or virtue bears, or some preserver heals; Some generous friend of ample power possess'd; Some feeling heart, that bleeds for the distress'd; Some breast that glows with virtues all divine; Some noble RUTLAND, misery's friend and thine. "Nor say, the Muse's song, the Poet's pen, Merit the scorn they meet from little men. With cautious freedom if the numbers flow, Not wildly high, nor pitifully low; If vice alone their honest aims oppose, Why so ashamed their friends, so loud their foes? Happy for men in every age and clime, If all the sons of vision dealt in rhyme. Go on, then, Son of Vision! still pursue Thy airy dreams; the world is dreaming too. Ambition's lofty views, the pomp of state, The pride of wealth, the splendour of the great, Stripp'd of their mask, their cares and troubles known, Are visions far less happy than thy own: Go on! and, while the sons of care complain, Be wisely gay and innocently vain; While serious souls are by their fears undone, Blow sportive bladders in the beamy sun, And call them worlds! and bid the greatest show More radiant colours in their worlds below: Then, as they break, the slaves of care reprove, And tell them, Such are all the toys they love." Footnotes: {1} Indentation and punctuation as original. {2} In ancient libraries, works of value and importance were fastened to their places by a length of chain; and might so be perused, but not taken away. {3} See Blackstone's Commentaries, i. 131, 359; iv. 432. 
7096	----	The Babylonian Story of the Deluge as Told by Assyrian Tablets from Nineveh. By E. A. Wallis Budge. The Discovery of the Tablets at Nineveh by Layard, Rassam and Smith. In 1845-47 and again in 1849-51 Mr. (later Sir) A. H. Layard carried out a series of excavations among the ruins of the ancient city of Nineveh, "that great city, wherein are more than sixteen thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left; and also much cattle" (Jonah iv, II). Its ruins lie on the left or east bank of the Tigris, exactly opposite the town of Al-Mawsil, or Môsul, which was founded by the Sassanians and marks the site of Western Nineveh. At first Layard thought that these ruins were not those of Nineveh, which he placed at Nimrûd, about 20 miles downstream, but of one of the other cities that were builded by Asshur (see Gen. x, 11, 12). Thanks, however, to Christian, Roman and Muhammadan tradition, there is no room for doubt about it, and the site of Nineveh has always been known. The fortress which the Arabs built there in the seventh century was known as "Kal'at-Nînawî, i.e., "Nineveh Castle," for many centuries, and all the Arab geographers agree in saying that tile mounds opposite Môsul contain the ruins of the palaces and walls of Nineveh. And few of them fail to mention that close by them is "Tall Nabi Yûnis," i.e., the Hill from which the Prophet Jonah preached repentance to the inhabitants of Nineveh, that "exceeding great city of three days' journey" (Jonah iii, 3). Local tradition also declares that the prophet was buried in the Hill, and his supposed tomb is shown there to this day. The Walls and Palaces of Nineveh. The situation of the ruins of the palaces of Nineveh is well shown by the accompanying reproduction of the plan of the city made by Commander Felix Jones, I.N. The remains of the older palaces built by Sargon II (B.C. 721-705), Sennacherib (B.C. 705-681), and Esarhaddon (B.C. 681-668) lie under the hill called Nabi Yûnis, and those of the palaces and other buildings of Ashur-bani-pal (B.C. 681-626) under the mound which is known locally as "Tall al-'Armûshîyah," i.e., "The Hill of 'Armûsh," and "Kuyûnjik." The latter name is said to be derived from two Turkish words meaning "many sheep," in allusion to the large flocks of sheep that find their pasture on and about the mound in the early spring. These two great mounds lie close to the remains of the great west wall of Nineveh, which in the time of the last Assyrian Empire was washed by the waters of the river Tigris. At some unknown period the course of the river changed, and it is now more than a mile distant from the city wall. The river Khausur, or Khoser, divides the area of Nineveh into two parts, and passing close to the southern end of Kuyûnjik empties itself into the Tigris. The ruins of the wails of Nineveh show that the east wall was 16,000 feet long, the north wall 7,000 feet long, the west wall 13,600 feet, and the south wall 3,000 feet; its circuit was about 13,200 yards or 7 1/2 miles. Discovery of the Library of the Temple of Nebo at Nineveh. In the spring of 1852 Layard, assisted by H. Rassam, continued the excavation of the "South West Palace" at Kuyûnjik. In one part of the building he found two small chambers, opening into each other, which he called the "chamber of records," or "the house of the rolls." He gave them this name because "to the height of a foot or more from the floor they were entirely filled" with inscribed baked clay tablets and fragments of tablets. Some tablets were complete, but by far the larger number of them had been broken up into many fragments, probably by the falling in of the roof and upper parts of the walls of the buildings when the city was pillaged and set on fire by the Medes and Babylonians. The tablets that were kept in these chambers numbered many thousands. Besides those that were found in them by Layard, large numbers have been dug out all along the corridor which passed the chambers and led to the river, and a considerable number were kicked on to the river front by the feet of the terrified fugitives from the palace when it was set on fire. The tablets found by Layard were of different sizes; the largest were rectangular, flat on one side and convex on the other, and measured about 9 ins. by 6 1/2 ins., and the smallest were about an inch square. The importance of this "find" was not sufficiently recognized at the time, for the tablets, which were thought to be decorated pottery, were thrown into baskets and sent down the river loose on rafts to Basrah, whence they were despatched to England on a British man o' war. During their transport from Nineveh to England they suffered more damage from want of packing than they had suffered from the wrath of the Medes. Among the complete tablets that were found in the two chambers several had colophons inscribed or scratched upon them, and when these were deciphered by Rawlinson, Hincks and Oppert a few years later, it became evident that they had formed part of the library of the Temple of Nebo at Nineveh. Nebo and His Library at Nineveh. Nothing is known of the early history of the Library [1] of the Temple of Nebo at Nineveh. There is little doubt that it was in existence in the reign of Sargon II, and it was probably founded at the instance of the priests of Nebo who were settled at Nimrûd (the Calah of Gen. X, 11), about 20 miles downstream of Nineveh. Authorities differ in their estimate of the attributes that were assigned to Nebo ( Nabu) in Pre-Babylonian times, and cannot decide whether he was a water-god, or a fire-god, or a corn-god, but he was undoubtedly associated with Marduk, either as his son or as a fellow-god. It is certain that as early as B.C. 2000 he was regarded as one of the "Great Gods" of Babylonia, and about 1,200 years later his cult was general in Assyria. He had a temple at Nimrûd in the ninth century B.C., and King Adad-Nirari (B.C. 811-783) set up six statues in it to the honour of the god; two of these statues are now in the British Museum. Under the last Assyrian Empire he was believed to possess the wisdom of all the gods, and to be the "All-wise" and "All-knowing." He was the inventor of all the arts and sciences, and the source of inspiration in wise and learned men, and he was the divine scribe and past master of all the mysteries connected with literature and the art of writing (, duppu sharrute). Ashur-bani-pal addresses him as "Nebo, the beneficent son, the director of the hosts of heaven and of earth, holder of the tablet of knowledge, bearer of the writing-reed of destiny, lengthener of days, vivifier of the dead, stablisher of light for the men who are troubled" (see tablet R.M. 132) In the reign of Sargon II the temple library of Nebo was probably housed in some building at or near Nabi Yûnis, or, as George Smith thought, near Kuyûnjik, or at Kuyûnjik itself. As Layard found the remains of Nebo's Library in the South West Palace, it is probable that Ashur-bani-pal built a new temple to Nebo there and had the library transferred to it. Nebo's temple at Nineveh bore the same name as his very ancient temple at Borsippa (the modern Birs-i-Nimrûd), viz., "E-Zida." Discovery of the Palace Library of Ashur-bani-pal. In the spring of 1852 Layard was obliged to close his excavations for want of funds, and he returned to England with Rassam, leaving all the northern half of the great mound of Kuyûnjik unexcavated. He resigned his position as Director of Excavations to the Trustees of the British Museum, and Colonel (later Sir) H. C. Rawlinson, Consul-General of Baghdâd, undertook to direct any further excavations that might be possible to carry out later on. During the summer the Trustees received a further grant from Parliament for excavations in Assyria, and they dispatched Rassam to finish the exploration of Kuyûnjik, knowing that the lease of the mound of Kuyûnjik for excavation purposes which he had obtained from its owner had several years to run. When Rassam arrived at Môsul in 1853, and was collecting his men for work, he discovered that Rawlinson, who knew nothing about the lease of the mound which Rassam held, had given the French Consul, M. Place, permission to excavate the northern half of the mound, i.e., that part of it which he was most anxious to excavate for the British Museum. He protested, but in vain, and, finding that M. Place intended to hold Rawlinson to his word, devoted himself to clearing out part of the South West Palace which Layard had attacked in 1852. Meanwhile M. Place was busily occupied with the French excavations at Khorsabad, a mound which contained the ruins of the great palace of Sargon II, and had no time to open up excavations at Kuyûnjik. In this way a year passed, and as M. Place made no sign that he was going to excavate at Kuyûnjik and Rassam's time for returning to England was drawing near, the owner of the mound, who was anxious to get the excavations finished so that he might again graze his flocks on the mound, urged Rassam to get to work in spite of Rawlinson's agreement with M. Place. He and Rassam made arrangements to excavate the northern part of the mound clandestinely and by night, and on 20th December, 1853, the work began. On the first night nothing of importance was found; on the second night the men uncovered a portion of a large bas-relief; and on the third night a huge mass of earth collapsed revealing a very fine bas-relief, sculptured with a scene representing Ashur-bani-pal standing in his chariot. The news of the discovery was quickly carried to all parts of the neighbourhood, and as it was impossible to keep the diggings secret any longer, the work was continued openly and by day. The last-mentioned bas-relief was one of the series that lined the chamber, which was 50 feet long and 15 feet wide, and illustrated a royal lion hunt. [2] This series, that is to say, all of it that the fire which destroyed the palace had spared, is now in the British Museum (see the Gallery of the Assyrian Saloon). Whilst the workmen were clearing out the Chamber of the Lion Hunt they came across several heaps of inscribed baked clay tablets of "all shapes and sizes," which resembled in general appearance the tablets that Layard had found in the South West Palace the year before. There were no remains with them, or near them, that suggested they had been arranged systematically and stored in the Chamber of the Lion Hunt, and it seems as if they had been brought there from another place and thrown down hastily, for nearly all of them were broken into small pieces. As some of them bore traces of having been exposed to great heat they must have been in that chamber during the burning of the palace. When the tablets were brought to England and were examined by Rawlinson, it was found from the information supplied by the colophons that they formed a part of the great Private Library of Ashur-bani-pal, which that king kept in his palace. The tablets found by Layard in 1852 and by Rassam in 1853 form the unique and magnificent collection of cuneiform tablets in the British Museum, which is now commonly known as the "Kuyûnjik Collection." The approximate number of the inscribed baked clay tablets and fragments that have come from Kuyûnjik and are now in the British Museum is 25,073. It is impossible to over-estimate their importance and value from religious, historical and literary points of view; besides this, they have supplied the material for the decipherment of cuneiform inscriptions in the Assyrian, Babylonian and Sumerian languages, and form the foundation of the science of Assyriology which has been built up with such conspicuous success during the last 70 years. Ashur-bani-pal, Book-Collector and Patron of Learning. Ashur-bani-pal (the Asnapper of Ezra iv, 10) succeeded his father Esarhaddon B.C. 668, and at a comparatively early period of his reign he seems to have devoted himself to the study of the history of his country, and to the making of a great Private Library. The tablets that have come down to us prove not only that he was as great a benefactor of the Library of the Temple of Nebo as any of his predecessors, but that he was himself an educated man, a lover of learning, and a patron of the literary folk of his day. In the introduction to his Annals as found inscribed on his great ten-sided cylinder in the British Museum he tells us how he took up his abode in the chambers of the palace from which Sennacherib and Esarhaddon had ruled the Assyrian Empire, and in describing his own education he says: "I, Ashur-bani-pal, within it (i.e., the palace) understood the wisdom of Nebo, all the art of writing of every craftsman, of every kind, I made myself master of them all (i.e., of the various kinds of writing)." [3] These words suggest that Ashur-bani-pal could not only read cuneiform texts, but could write like a skilled scribe, and that he also understood all the details connected with the craft of making and baking tablets. Having determined to form a Library in his palace he set to work in a systematic manner to collect literary works. He sent scribes to ancient seats of learning, e.g., Ashur, Babylon, Cuthah, Nippur, Akkad, Erech, to make copies of the ancient works that were preserved there, and when the copies came to Nineveh he either made transcripts of them himself, or caused his scribes to do so for the Palace Library. In any case he collated the texts himself and revised them before placing them in his Library. The appearance of the tablets from his Library suggests that he established a factory in which the clay was cleaned and kneaded and made into homogeneous, well-shaped tablets, and a kiln in which they were baked, after they had been inscribed. The uniformity of the script upon them is very remarkable, and texts with mistakes in them are rarely found. How the tablets were arranged in the Library is not known, but certainly groups were catalogued, and some tablets were labelled. [4] Groups of tablets were arranged in numbered series, with "catch lines," the first tablet of the series giving the first line of the second tablet, the second tablet giving the first line of the third tablet, and so on. Ashur-bani-pal was greatly interested in the literature of the Sumerians, i.e., the non-Semitic people who occupied Lower Babylonia about B.C. 3500 and later. He and his scribes made bilingual lists of signs and words and objects of all classes and kinds, all of which are of priceless value to the modern student of the Sumerian and Assyrian languages. Annexed is an extract from a List of Signs with Sumerian and Assyrian values. The signs of which the meanings are given are in the middle column; the Sumerian values are given in the column to the left, and their meanings in Assyrian in the column to the right. To many of his copies of Sumerian hymns, incantations, magical formulas, etc., Ashur-bani-pal caused interlinear translations to be added in Assyrian, and of such bilingual documents the following extract from a text relating to the Seven Evil Spirits will serve as a specimen. The 1st, 3rd, 5th, etc., lines are written in Sumerian, and the 2nd, 4th, 6th, etc., lines in Assyrian. The tablets that belonged to Ashur-bani-pal's private Library and those of the Temple of Nebo can be distinguished by the colophons, when these exist. Two forms of colophon for each class of the two great collections of tablets are known, one short and one long. The short colophon on the tablets of the King's Library reads:--"Palace of Ashur-bani-pal, king of hosts, king of the country of Assyria" and that on the tablets of the Library of Nebo reads:--"[Country of ?] Ashur-bani-pal, king of hosts, king of the country of Assyria." See on the Tablet of Astrological Omens, p. 22. The longer colophons are of considerable interest and renderings of two typical examples are here appended:-- I. Colophon of the Tablets of the Palace Library. (K. 4870.) 1. Palace of Ashur-bani-pal, king of hosts, king of the country of Assyria, 2. who trusteth in the god Ashur and the goddess Bêlit, 3. on whom the god Nebo (Nabû) and the goddess Tasmetu 4. have bestowed all-hearing ears 5. and his possession of eyes that are clearsighted, 6. and the finest results of the art of writing 7. which, among the kings who have gone before, 8. no one ever acquired that craft. 9. The wisdom of Nebo [as expressed in] writing, of every kind, 10. on tablets I wrote, collated and revised, 11. [and] for examination and reading 12. in my palace I placed--[I] 13. the prince who knoweth the light of the king of the gods, Ashur. 14. Whosoever shall carry [them] off, or his name side by side with mine 15. shall write may Ashur and Bêlit wrathfully 16. sweep away, and his name and his seed destroy in the land. 2. Colophon of the Tablets of the Library of Nebo. (RM. 132.) 1. To Nebo, beneficent son, director of the hosts of heaven and of earth, 2. holder of the tablet of knowledge, he who hath grasped the writing reed of destinies, 3. lengthener of days, vivifier of the dead, stablisher of light for the men who are perplexed, 4. [from] the great lord, the noble Ashur-bani-pal, the lord, the approved of the gods Ashur, Bêl and Nebo, 5. the shepherd, the maintainer of the holy places of the great gods, stablisher of their revenues, 6. son of Esarhaddon, king of hosts, king of Assyria, 7. grandson of Sennacherib, king of hosts, king of Assyria, 8. for the life of his souls, length of his days, [and] well-being of his posterity, 9. to make permanent the foundation of his royal throne, to hear his supplications, 10. to receive his petitions, to deliver into his hands the rebellious. 11. The wisdom of Ea, the precious priesthood, the leadership, 12. what is composed for the contentment of the heart of the great gods, 13. I wrote upon tablets, I collated, I revised 14. literally according to all the tablets of the lands of Ashur and Akkad, 15. and I placed in the Library of E-Zida, the temple of Nebo my lord, which is in Nineveh. 16. O Nebo, lord of the hosts of heaven and of earth, look upon that Library joyfully for years (i.e., for ever). 17. Of Ashur-bani-pal, the chief, the worshipper of thy divinity, daily the reward of the offering-- 18. his life decree, so that he may exalt thy great godhead. The tablets from both Libraries when unbroken vary in size from 15 inches by 8 5/8 inches to 1 inch by 7/8 inch, and they are usually about 1 inch thick. In shape they are rectangular, the obverse being flat and tile reverse slightly convex. Contract tablets, letter tablets and "case" tablets are very much smaller, and resemble small pillows in shape. The principal subjects dealt with in the tablets are history, annalistic or summaries, letters, despatches, reports, oracles, prayers, contracts, deeds of sale of land, produce, cattle, slaves, agreements, dowries, bonds for interest (with impressions of seals, and fingernails, or nail marks), chronography, chronology, Canons of Eponyms, astrology (forecasts, omens, divinations, charms, spells, incantations), mythology, legends, grammar, law, geography, etc. [5] George Smith's Discovery of the Epic of Gilgamish and the Story of the Deluge. The mass of tablets which had been discovered by Layard and Rassam at Nineveh came to the British Museum in 1854-5, and their examination by Rawlinson and Norris began very soon after. Mr. Bowler, a skilful draughtsman and copyist of tablets, whom Rawlinson employed in making transfers of copies of cuneiform texts for publication by lithography, rejoined a considerable number of fragments of bilingual lists, syllabaries, etc., which were published in the second volume of the Cuneiform Inscriptions of Western Asia, in 1866. In that year the Trustees of the British Museum employed George Smith to assist Rawlinson in sorting, classifying and rejoining fragments, and a comprehensive examination of the collection by him began. His personal interest in Assyriology was centred upon historical texts, especially those which threw any light on the Bible Narrative. But in the course of his search for stories of the campaigns of Sargon II, Sennacherib, Esarhaddon and Ashur-bani-pal, he discovered among other important documents (1) a series of portions of tablets which give the adventures of Gilgamish, an ancient king of Erech; (2) An account of the Deluge, which is supplied by the Eleventh Tablet of the Legend of Gilgamish (in more than one version); (3) A detailed description of the Creation; (4) the Legend of the Descent of Ishtar into Hades in quest of Tammuz. The general meaning of the texts was quite clear, but there were many gaps in them, and it was not until December, 1872, that George Smith published his description of the Legend of Gilgamish, and a translation of the "Chaldean Account of the Deluge." The interest which his paper evoked was universal, and the proprietors of the "Daily Telegraph" advocated that Smith should be at once dispatched to Nineveh to search for the missing fragments of tablets which would fill up the gaps in his texts, and generously offered to contribute 1,000 guineas towards the cost of the excavations. The Trustees accepted the offer and gave six months' leave of absence to Smith, who left London in January, and arrived in Môsul in March, 1873. In the following May he recovered from Kuyûnjik a fragment that contained "the greater portion of seventeen lines of inscription belonging to the first column of the Chaldean account of the Deluge, and fitting into the only place where there was a serious blank in the story." [6] During the excavations which Smith carried out at Kuyûnjik in 1873 and 1874 he recovered many fragments of tablets, the texts of which enabled him to complete his description of the contents of the Twelve Tablets of the Legend of Gilgamish which included his translation of the story of the Deluge. Unfortunately Smith died of hunger and sickness near Aleppo in 1876, and he was unable to revise his early work, and to supplement it with the information which he had acquired during his latest travels in Assyria and Babylonia. Thanks to the excavations which were carried on at Kuyûnjik by the Trustees of the British Museum after his untimely death, several hundreds of tablets and fragments have been recovered, and many of these have been rejoined to the tablets of the older collection. By the careful study and investigation of the old and new material Assyriologists have, during the last forty years, been enabled to restore and complete many passages in the Legends of Gilgamish and the Flood. It is now clear that the Legend of the Flood had not originally any connection with the Legend of Gilgamish, and that it was introduced into it by a late editor or redactor of the Legend, probably in order to complete the number of the Twelve Tablets on which it was written in the time of Ashur-bani-pal. The Legend of the Deluge in Babylonia. In the introduction to his paper on the "Chaldean Account of the Deluge," which Smith read in December, 1872, and published in 1873, he stated that the Assyrian text which he had found on Ashur-bani-pal's tablets was copied from an archetype at Erech in Lower Babylonia. This archetype was, he thought, "either written in, or translated into Semitic Babylonian, at a very early period," and although he could not assign a date to it, he adduced a number of convincing proofs in support of his opinion. The language in which he assumed the Legend to have been originally composed was known to him under the name of "Accadian," or "Akkadian," but is now called "Sumerian." Recent research has shown that his view on this point was correct on the whole. But there is satisfactory proof available to show that versions or recensions of the Legend of the Deluge and of the Epic of Gilgamish existed both in Sumerian and Babylonian, as early as B.C. 2000. The discovery has been made of a fragment of a tablet with a small portion of the Babylonian version of the Legend of the Deluge inscribed upon it, and dated in a year which is the equivalent of the 11th year of Ammisaduga, i.e. about B.C. 2000. [7] And in the Museum at Philadelphia [8] is preserved half of a tablet which when whole contained a complete copy of the Sumerian version of the Legend, and must have been written about the same date. The fragment of the tablet written in the reign of Ammisaduga is of special importance because the colophon shows that the tablet to which it belonged was the second of a series, and that this series was not that of the Epic of Gilgamish, and from this we learn that in B.C. 2000 the Legend of the Deluge did not form the XIth Tablet of the Epic of Gilgamish, as it did in the reign of Ashur-bani-pal, or earlier. The Sumerian version is equally important, though from another point of view, for the contents and position of the portion of it that remains on the half of the tablet mentioned above make it certain that already at this early period there were several versions of the Legend of the Deluge current in the Sumerian language. The fact is that the Legend of the Deluge was then already so old in Mesopotamia that the scribes added to or abbreviated the text at will, and treated the incidents recorded in it according to local or popular taste, tradition and prejudice. There seems to be no evidence that proves conclusively that the Sumerian version is older than the Semitic, or that the latter was translated direct from the former version. It is probable that both the Sumerians and the Semites, each in their own way, attempted to commemorate an appalling disaster of unparalleled magnitude, the knowledge of which, through tradition, was common to both peoples. It is, at all events, clear that the Sumerians regarded the Deluge as an historic event, which they were, practically, able to date, for some of their tablets contain lists of kings who reigned before the Deluge, though it must be confessed that the lengths assigned to their reigns are incredible. It is not too much to assume that the original event commemorated in the Legend of the Deluge was a serious and prolonged inundation or flood in Lower Babylonia, which was accompanied by great loss of life and destruction of property. The Babylonian versions state that this inundation or flood was caused by rain, but passages in some of them suggest that the effects of the rainstorm were intensified by other physical happenings connected with the earth, of a most destructive character. The Hebrews also, as we may see from the Bible, had alternative views as to the cause of the Deluge. According to one, rain fell upon the earth for forty days and forty nights (Gen. vii, 12), and according to the other the Deluge came because "all the fountains of the "great deep" were broken up, and "the flood-gates of heaven were opened" (Gen. vii, 11). The latter view suggests that the rain flood was joined by the waters of the sea. Later tradition, based partly on Babylonian and partly on Hebrew sources, asserts in the "Cave of Treasures" [9] that when Noah had entered the Ark and the door was shut, "the sluices of heaven were opened, and the deeps were rent asunder," and "that the Ocean, that great sea that surroundeth the whole world, vomited its waters, and the sluices of heaven being opened, and the deeps of the earth being rent asunder, the storehouses of the winds were opened, and the whirlwinds broke loose, and the Ocean roared and poured out its waters in floods." The ark was steered over the waters by an angel who acted as pilot, and when that had come to rest on the mountains of Kardô (Armenia) "God commanded the waters and they separated from each other. The waters that had been above ascended to their place above the heavens, whence they had come; and the waters that had come up from under the earth returned to the lower deep; and the waters that were from the Ocean returned into it" (Brit. Mus. MS. Orient. No. 25,875, fol. 17b, col. 1 and fol. 18a, cols. 1 and 2). Many authorities seeking to find a foundation of fact for the Legend of the Deluge in Mesopotamia have assumed that the rain flood was accompanied either by an earthquake or a tidal wave, or by both. There is no doubt that the cities of Lower Babylonia were nearer the sea in the Sumerian Period than they are at the present time, and it is a generally accepted view that the head of the Persian Gulf lay further to the north at that time. A cyclone coupled with a tidal wave is a sufficient base for any of the forms of the Legend now known. A comparison of the contents of the various Sumerian and Babylonian versions of the Deluge that have come down to us shows us that they are incomplete. And as none of them tells so connected and full a narrative of the prehistoric shipbuilder as Berosus, a priest of Bêl, the great god of Babylon, it seems that the Mesopotamian scribes were content to copy the Legend in an abbreviated form. Berosus, it is true, is not a very ancient authority, for he was not born until the reign of Alexander the Great, but he was a learned man and was well acquainted with the Babylonian language, and with the ancient literature of his country, and he wrote a history of Babylonia, some fragments of which have been preserved to us in the works of Alexander Polyhistor, Eusebius, and others. The following is a version of the fragment which describes the flood that took place in the days of Xisuthrus, the tenth King of the Chaldeans, and is of importance for comparison with the rendering of the Legend of the Deluge, as found on the Ninevite tablets, which follows immediately after. The Legend of the Deluge According to Berosus. "After the death of Ardates, his son Xisuthrus reigned eighteen sari. In his time happened a great Deluge; the history of which is thus described. The Deity, Cronus, appeared to him in a vision, and warned him that upon the 15th day of the month Daesius there would be a flood, by which mankind would be destroyed. He therefore enjoined him to write a history of the beginning, procedure and conclusion of all things; and to bury it in the city of the Sun at Sippara; and to build a vessel, and take with him into it his friends and relations; and to convey on board everything necessary to sustain life, together with all the different animals, both birds and quadrupeds, and trust himself fearlessly to the deep. Having asked the Deity, whither he was to sail? he was answered, 'To the Gods': upon which he offered up a prayer for the good of mankind. He then obeyed the divine admonition; and built a vessel 5 stadia in length, and 2 in breadth. Into this he put everything which he had prepared; and last of all conveyed into it his wife, his children, and his friends. After the flood had been upon the earth, and was in time abated, Xisuthrus sent out birds from the vessel; which, not finding any food nor any place whereupon they might rest their feet, returned to him again. After an interval of some days, he sent them forth a second time; and they now returned with their feet tinged with mud. He made a trial a third time with these birds; but they returned to him no more: from whence he judged that the surface of the earth had appeared above the waters. He therefore made an opening in the vessel, and upon looking out found that it was stranded upon the side of some mountain; upon which he immediately quitted it with his wife, his daughter, and the pilot. Xisuthrus then paid his adoration to the earth, and, having constructed an altar, offered sacrifices to the gods, and, with those who had come out of the vessel with him, disappeared. They, who remained within, finding that their companions did not return, quitted the vessel with many lamentations, and called continually on the name of Xisuthrus. Him they saw no more; but they could distinguish his voice in the air, and could hear him admonish them to pay due regard to religion; and likewise informed them that it was upon account of his piety that he was translated to live with the gods; that his wife and daughter, and the pilot, had obtained the same honour. To this he added that they should return to Babylonia; and, it was ordained, search for the writings at Sippara, which they were to make known to mankind: moreover that the place, wherein they then were, was the land of Armenia. The rest having heard these words, offered sacrifices to the gods; and taking a circuit journeyed towards Babylonia." (Cory, Ancient Fragments, London, 1832, p. 26ff.) The Babylonian Legend of the Deluge as Told to the Hero Gilgamish by His Ancestor Uta-Napishtim, Who Had Been Made Immortal by the Gods. The form of the Legend of the Deluge given below is that which is found on the Eleventh of the Series of Twelve Tablets in the Library of Nebo at Nineveh, which described the life and exploits of Gilgamish (), an early king of the city of Erech. As we have seen above, the Legend of the Deluge has in reality no connection with the Epic of Gilgamish, but was introduced into it by the editors of the Epic at a comparatively late period, perhaps even during the reign of Ashur-bani-pal (B.C. 668-626). A summary of the contents of the other Tablets of the Gilgamish Series is given in the following section of this short monograph. It is therefore only necessary to state here that Gilgamish, who was horrified and almost beside himself when his bosom friend and companion Enkidu (Eabâni) died, meditated deeply how he could escape death himself. He knew that his ancestor Uta-Napishtim had become immortal, therefore he determined to set out for the place where Uta-Napishtim lived so that he might obtain from him the secret of immortality. Guided by a dream in which he saw the direction of the place where Uta-Napishtim lived, Gilgamish set out for the Mountain of the Sunset, and, after great toil and many difficulties, came to the shore of a vast sea. Here he met Ur-Shanabi, the boatman of Uta-Napishtim, who was persuaded to carry him in his boat over the "waters of death," and at length he landed on the shore of the country of Uta-Napishtim. The immortal came down to the shore and asked the newcomer the object of his visit, and Gilgamish told him of the death of his great friend Enkidu, and of his desire to escape from death and to find immortality. Uta-Napishtim having made to Gilgamish some remarks which seem to indicate that in his opinion death was inevitable, 1. Gilgamish [10] said unto Uta-Napishtim, to Uta-Napishtim the remote: 2. "I am looking at thee, Uta-Napishtim. 3. Thy person is not altered; even as am I so art thou. 4. Verily, nothing about thee is changed; even as am I so art thou. 5. [Moved is my] heart to do battle, 6. But thou art at leisure and dost lie upon thy back. 7. How then wast thou able to enter the company of the gods and see life?" Thereupon Uta-Napishtim related to Gilgamish the Story of the Deluge, and the Eleventh Tablet continues thus:-- 8. Uta-Napishtim said unto him, to Gilgamish: 9. "I will reveal unto thee, O Gilgamish, a hidden mystery, 10. And a secret matter of the gods I will declare unto thee. 11. Shurippak, [11] a city which thou thyself knowest, 12. On [the bank] of the river Puratti (Euphrates) is situated, 13. That city was old and the gods [dwelling] within it-- 14. Their hearts induced the great gods to make a wind-storm (a-bu-bi), [12] 15. Their father Anu, 16. Their counsellor, the warrior Enlil, 17. Their messenger En-urta [and] 18. Their prince Ennugi. 19. Nin-igi-azag, Ea, was with them [in council] and 20. reported their word to the house of reeds. [First Speech of Ea to Uta-Napishtim who is sleeping in a reed hut.] 21. O House of reeds, O House of reeds! O Wall, O Wall! 22. O House of reeds, hear! O Wall, understand! 23. O man of Shurippak, son of Ubara-Tutu. 24. Throw down the house, build a ship, 25. Forsake wealth, seek after life, 26. Abandon possessions, save thy life, 27. Carry grain of every kind into the ship. 28. The ship which thou shalt build, 29. The dimensions thereof shall be measured, 30. The breadth and the length thereof shall be the same. 31. ... the ocean, provide it with a roof." [Uta-Napishtim's answer to Ea.] 32. "I understood and I said unto Ea, my lord: 33. [I comprehend] my lord, that which thou hast ordered, 34. I will regard it with great reverence, and will perform it. 35. But what shall I say to the town, to the multitude, and to the elders?" [Second Speech of Ea.] 36. "Ea opened his mouth and spake 37. And said unto his servant, myself, 38. ... Thus shalt thou say unto them: 39. Ill-will hath the god Enlil formed against me, 40. Therefore I can no longer dwell in your city, 41. And never more will I turn my countenance upon the soil of Enlil. 42. I will descend into the ocean to dwell with my lord Ea. 43. But upon you he will rain riches: 44. A catch of birds, a catch of fish 45. ... an [abundant] harvest, 46. ... the prince (?) of the darkness 47. ... shall make a violent cyclone [to fall upon you]." [The Building of the Ship.] 48. As soon as [the dawn] broke... [Lines 49-54 broken away.] 55. The weak [man] ... brought bitumen, 56. The strong [man] ... brought what was needed. 57. On the fifth day I decided upon its plan. 58. According to the plan its walls were 10 Gar (i.e. 120 cubits) high, 59. And the circuit of the roof thereof was equally 10 Gar. 60. I measured out the hull thereof and marked it out (?) 61. I covered (?) it six times. 62. Its exterior I divided into seven, 63. Its interior I divided into nine, 64. Water bolts I drove into the middle of it. 65. I provided a steering pole, and fixed what was needful for it, 66. Six sar of bitumen I poured over the inside wall, 67. Three sar of pitch I poured into the inside. 68. The men who bear loads brought three sar of oil, 69. Besides a sar of oil which the offering consumed, 70. And two sar of oil which the boatman hid. 71. I slaughtered oxen for the [work]people, 72. I slew sheep every day. 73. Beer, sesame wine, oil and wine 74. I made the people drink as if they were water from the river. 75. I celebrated a feast-day as if it had been New Year's Day. 76. I opened [a box of ointment], I laid my hands in unguent. 77. Before the sunset the ship was finished. 78. [Since] ... was difficult. 79. The shipbuilders brought the ... of the ship, above and below, 80. ... two-thirds of it. [The Loading of the Ship.] 81. With everything that I possessed I loaded it (i.e. the ship). 82. With everything that I possessed of silver I loaded it. 83. With everything that I possessed of gold I loaded it. 84. With all that I possessed of living grain I loaded it. 85. I made to go up into the ship all my family and kinsfolk, 86. The cattle of the field, the beasts of the field, all handicraftsmen I made them go up into it. 87. The god Shamash had appointed me a time (saying) 88. The Power of Darkness will at eventide make a rain-flood to fall; 89. Then enter into the ship and shut thy door. 90. The appointed time drew nigh; 91. The Power of Darkness made a rain-flood to fall at eventide. 92. I watched the coming of the [approaching] storm, 93. "When I saw it terror possessed me, 94. I went into the ship and shut my door. 95. To the pilot of the ship, Puzur-Bêl (or Puzur-Amurri) the sailor 96. I committed the great house (i.e. ship), together with the contents thereof. [The Abubu (Cyclone) and its effects Described.] 97. As soon as the gleam of dawn shone in the sky 98. A black cloud from the foundation of heaven came up. 99. Inside it the god Adad (Rammânu) thundered, 100. The gods Nabû and Sharru (i.e. Marduk) went before, 101. Marching as messengers over high land and plain, 102. Irragal (Nergal) tore out the post of the ship, 103. En-urta (Ninib) went on, he made the storm to descend. 104. The Anunnaki [13] brandished their torches, 105. With their glare they lighted up the land. 106. The whirlwind (or, cyclone) of Adad swept up to heaven. 107. Every gleam of light was turned into darkness. 108. ...... the land ...... as if ...... had laid it waste. 109. A whole day long [the flood descended] ... 110. Swiftly it mounted up ..... [the water] reached to the mountains 111. [The water] attacked the people like a battle. 112. Brother saw not brother. 113. Men could not be known (or, recognized) in heaven. 114. The gods were terrified at the cyclone. 115. They betook themselves to flight and went up into the heaven of Anu. 116. The gods crouched like a dog and cowered by the wall. 117. The goddess Ishtar cried out like a woman in travail. 118. The Lady of the Gods lamented with a loud voice [saying]: [Ishtar's Lament.] 119. "Verily the former dispensation is turned into mud, 120. Because I commanded evil among the company of the gods. 121. When I commanded evil among the company of the gods, 122. I commanded battle for the destruction of my people. 123. Did I of myself bring forth my people 124. That they might fill the sea like little fishes?" [Uta-Napishtim's Story continued.] 125. The gods of the Anunnaki wailed with her. 126. The gods bowed themselves, and sat down, and wept. 127. Their lips were shut tight (in distress) ... 128. For six days and nights 129. The storm raged, and the cyclone overwhelmed the land. [The Abating of the Storm.] 130. When the seventh day approached the cyclone and the raging flood ceased: 131. --now it had fought like an army. 132. The sea became quiet and went down, and the cyclone and the rain-storm ceased. 133. I looked over the sea and a calm had come, 134. And all mankind were turned into mud, 135. The land had been laid flat like a terrace. 136. I opened the air-hole and the light fell upon my face, 137. I bowed myself, I sat down, I cried, 138. My tears poured down over my cheeks. 139. I looked over the quarters of the world--open sea! 140. After twelve days an island appeared. 141. The ship took its course to the land of Nisir. 142. The mountain of Nisir held the ship, it let it not move. 143. The first day, the second day, the mountain of Nisir held the ship and let it not move. 144. The third day, the fourth day, the mountain of Nisir held the ship and let it not move. 145. The fifth day, the sixth day, the mountain of Nisir held the ship and let it not move. 146. When the seventh day had come 147. I brought out a dove and let her go free. 148. The dove flew away and [then] came back; 149. Because she had no place to alight on she came back. 150. I brought out a swallow and let her go free. 151. The swallow flew away and [then] came back; 152. Because she had no place to alight on she came back. 153. I brought out a raven and let her go free. 154. The raven flew away, she saw the sinking waters. 155. She ate, she pecked in the ground, she croaked, she came not back. [Uta-Napishtim Leaves the Ship.] 156. Then I brought out everything to the four winds and offered up a sacrifice; 157. I poured out a libation on the peak of the mountain. 158. Seven by seven I set out the vessels, 159. Under them I piled reeds, cedarwood and myrtle (?). 160. The gods smelt the savour, 161. The gods smelt the sweet savour. 162. The gods gathered together like flies over him that sacrificed. [Speech of Ishtar, Lady of the Gods.] 163. Now when the Lady of the Gods came nigh, 164. She lifted up the priceless jewels which Anu had made according to her desire, [saying] 165. "O ye gods here present, as I shall never forget the lapis-lazuli jewels of my neck 166. So shall I ever think about these days, and shall forget them nevermore! 167. Let the gods come to the offering, 168. But let not Enlil come to the offering, 169. Because he would not accept counsel and made the cyclone, 17O. And delivered my people over to destruction." [The Anger of Enlil (Bêl).] 171. Now when Enlil came nigh 172. He saw the ship; then was Enlil wroth 173. And he was filled with anger against the gods, the Igigi [saying]: [14] 174. "What kind of a being hath escaped with his life? 175. He shall not remain alive, a man among the destruction!" [Speech of En-Urta.] 176. Then En-Urta opened his mouth and spake 177. And said unto the warrior Enlil (Bêl): 178. Who besides the god Ea can make a plan? 179. The god Ea knoweth everything. 180. He opened his mouth and spake 181. And said unto the warrior Enlil (Bêl), 182. O Prince among the gods, thou warrior, 183. How couldst thou, not accepting counsel, make a cyclone? 184. He who is sinful, on him lay his sin, 185. He who transgresseth, on him lay his transgression. 186. But be merciful that [everything] be not destroyed; be long-suffering that [man be not blotted out]. 187. Instead of thy making a cyclone, 188. Would that a lion had come and diminished mankind. 189. Instead of thy making a cyclone 19O. Would that a wolf had come and diminished mankind. 191. Instead of thy making a cyclone 192. Would that a famine had arisen and [laid waste] the land. 193. Instead of thy making a cyclone 194. Would that Urra (the Plague god) had risen up and [laid waste] the land. 195. As for me I have not revealed the secret of the great gods. 196. I made Atra-hasis to see a vision, and thus he heard the secret of the gods. 197. Now therefore counsel him with counsel." [Ea deifies Uta-Napishtim and his Wife.] 198. "Then the god Ea went up into the ship, 199. He seized me by the hand and brought me forth. 200. He brought forth my wife and made her to kneel by my side. 2O1. He turned our faces towards each other, he stood between us, he blessed us [saying], 202. Formerly Uta-Napishtim was a man merely, 203. But now let Uta-Napishtiin and his wife be like unto the gods, ourselves. 204. Uta-Napishtim shall dwell afar off, at the mouth of the rivers." [Uta-Napishtim Ends his Story of the Deluge.] 205. "And they took me away to a place afar off, and made me to dwell at the mouth of the rivers." The contents of the remainder of the text on the Eleventh Tablet of the Gilgamish Series are described on p. 54. The Epic of Gilgamish. [15] The narrative of the life, exploits and travels of Gilgamish, king of Erech, filled Twelve Tablets which formed the Series called from the first three words of the First Tablet, Sha Nagbu Imuru, i.e., "He who hath seen all things." The exact period of the reign of this king is unknown, but there is no doubt that he lived and ruled at Erech before the conquest of Mesopotamia by the Semites. According to a tablet from Niffar he was the fifth of a line of Sumerian rulers at Erech, and he reigned 126 years; his name is said to mean "The Fire-god is a commander." [16] The principal authorities for the Epic are the numerous fragments of the tablets that were found in the ruins of the Library of Nebo and the Royal Library of Ashur-bani-pal at Nineveh, and are now in the British Museum. [17] The contents of the Twelve Tablets may be briefly described thus: The First Tablet. The opening lines describe the great knowledge and wisdom of Gilgamish, who saw everything, learned everything, understood everything, who probed to the bottom the hidden mysteries of wisdom, and who knew the history of everything that happened before the Deluge. He travelled far over sea and land, and performed mighty deeds, and then he cut upon a tablet of stone an account of all that he had done and suffered. He built the wall of Erech, founded the holy temple of E-Anna, and carried out other great architectural works. He was a semi-divine being, for his body was formed of the "flesh of the gods," and "Two-thirds of him were god, and one-third was man" (l. 51). The description of his person is lost. As Shepherd (i.e., King) of Erech he forced the people to toil overmuch, and his demands reduced them to such a state of misery that they cried out to the gods and begged them to create some king who should control Gilgamish and give them deliverance from him. The gods hearkened to the prayer of the men of Erech, and they commanded the goddess Aruru to create a rival to Gilgamish. The goddess agreed to do their bidding, and having planned in her mind what manner of being she intended to make, she washed her hands, took a piece of clay and spat upon it, and made a male creature like the god Anu. His body was covered all over with hair. The hair of his head was long like that of a woman, and he wore clothing like that of Gira (or, Sumuggan), a goddess of vegetation, i.e., he appeared to be clothed with leaves. He was different in every way from the people of the country, and his name was Enkidu (Eabani). He lived in the forests on the hills, ate herbs like the gazelle, drank with the wild cattle, and herded with the beasts of the field. He was mighty in stature, invincible in strength, and obtained complete mastery over all the creatures of the forests in which he lived. One day a certain hunter went out to snare game, and he dug pit-traps and laid nets, and made his usual preparations for roping in his prey. But after doing this for three days he found that his pits were filled up and his nets smashed, and he saw Enkidu releasing the beasts that had been snared. The hunter was terrified at the sight of Enkidu, and went home hastily and told his father what he had seen and how badly he had fared. By his father's advice he went to Erech, and reported to Gilgamish what had happened. When Gilgamish heard his story he advised him to act upon a suggestion which the hunter's father had already made, namely that he should hire a harlot and take her out to the forest, so that Enkidu might be ensnared by the sight of her beauty, and take up his abode with her. The hunter accepted this advice, and having found a harlot to help him in removing Enkidu from the forests (thus enabling him to gain a living), he set out from Erech with her and in due course arrived at the forest where Enkidu lived, and sat down by the place where the beasts came to drink. On the second day when the beasts came to drink and Enkidu was with them, the woman carried out the instructions which the hunter had given her, and when Enkidu saw her cast aside her veil, he left his beasts and came to her, and remained with her for six days and seven nights. At the end of this period he returned to the beasts with which he had lived on friendly terms, but as soon as the gazelle winded him they took to flight, and the wild cattle disappeared into the woods. When Enkidu saw the beasts forsake him his knees gave way, and he swooned from sheer shame; but when he came to himself he returned to the harlot. She spoke to him flattering words, and asked him why he wandered with the wild beasts in the desert, and then told him she wished to take him back with her to Erech, where Anu and Ishtar lived, and where the mighty Gilgamish reigned. Enkidu hearkened and finally went back with her to her city, where she described the wisdom, power and might of Gilgamish, and took steps to make Enkidu known to him. But before Enkidu arrived, Gilgamish had been warned of his existence and coming in two dreams which he related to his mother Ninsunna, and when he and Enkidu learned to know each other subsequently, these two mighty heroes became great friends. The Second Tablet. When Enkidu came to Erech the habits of the people of the city were strange to him, but under the tuition of the harlot he learned to eat bread and to drink beer, and to wear clothes, and he anointed his body with unguents. He went out into the forests with his hunting implements and snared the gazelle and slew the panther, and obtained animals for sacrifice, and gained reputation as a mighty hunter and as a good shepherd. In due course he attracted the notice of Gilgamish, who did not, however, like his uncouth appearance and ways, but after a time, when the citizens of Erech praised him and admired his strong and vigorous stature, he made friends with him and rejoiced in him, and planned an expedition with him. Before they set out, Gilgamish wished to pay a visit to the goddess Ishkhara, but Enkidu, fearing that the influence of the goddess would have a bad effect upon his friend, urged him to abandon the visit. This Gilgamish refused to do, and when Enkidu declared that by force he would prevent him going to the goddess, a violent quarrel broke out between the two heroes, and they appealed to arms. After a fierce fight Enkidu conquered Gilgamish, who apparently abandoned his visit to the goddess. The text of the Second Tablet is very much mutilated, and the authorities on the subject are not agreed as to the exact placing of the fragments. The above details are derived from a tablet at Philadelphia. [18] The Third Tablet. The correct order of the fragments of this Tablet has not yet been ascertained, but among the contents of the first part of its text a lament by Enkidu that he was associated with the harlot seems to have had a place. Whether he had left the city of Erech and gone back to his native forest is not clear, but the god Shamash, having heard his cursing of the harlot, cried to him from heaven, saying, "Why, O Enkidu, dost thou curse the temple woman? She gave thee food to eat which was meet only for a god, she gave thee wine to drink which was meet only for a king, she arrayed thee in splendid apparel, and made thee to possess as thy friend the noble Gilgamish. And at present Gilgamish is thy bosom friend. He maketh thee to lie down on a large couch, and to sleep in a good, well-decked bed, and to occupy the chair of peace, the chair on the left-hand side. The princes of the earth kiss thy feet. He maketh the people of Erech to sigh for thee, and many folk to cry out for thee, and to serve thee. And for thy sake he putteth on coarse attire and arrayeth himself in the skin of the lion, and pursueth thee over the plain." When Enkidu heard these words his anxious heart had peace. To the Third Tablet probably belongs the fragment in which Enkidu relates to Gilgamish a horrifying dream which he had had. In his dream it seemed to him that there were thunderings in heaven and quaking upon earth, and a being with an awful visage, and nails like all eagle's talons, gripped him and carried him off and forced him to go down into the dark abyss of the dread goddess, Irkalla. From this abode he who once "went in never came out, and he who travelled along that road never returned, he who dwelleth there is without light, the beings therein eat dust and feed upon mud; they are clad in feathers and have wings like birds, they see no light, and they live in the darkness of night." Here Enkidu saw in his dream creatures who had been kings when they lived upon the earth, and shadowy beings offering roasted meat to Anu and Enlil, and cool drinks poured out from waterskins. In this House of Dust dwelt high priests, ministrants, the magician and the prophet, and the deities Etana, Sumukan, Eresh-kigal, Queen of the Earth, and Bêlitsêri, who registered the deeds done upon the earth. When Gilgamish heard this dream, he brought out a table, and setting on it honey and butter placed it before Shamash. The Fourth Tablet. Gilgamish then turned to Enkidu and invited him to go with him to the temple of Nin-Makh to see the servant of his mother, Ninsunna, in order to consult her as to the meaning of the dream. They went there, and Enkidu told his dream, and the wise woman offered up incense and asked Shamash why he had given to her son a heart which could never keep still. She next referred to the perilous expedition against the mighty King Khumbaba, which he had decided to undertake with Enkidu, and apparently hoped that the god would prevent her son from leaving Erech. But Gilgamish was determined to march against Khumbaba, and he and Enkidu set out without delay for the mountains where grew the cedars. The Fifth Tablet. In due course the two heroes reached the forest of cedars, and they contemplated with awe their great height and their dense foliage. The cedars were under the special protection of Bêl, who had appointed to be their keeper Khumbaba, a being whose voice was like the roar of a storm, whose mouth was like that of the gods, and whose breath was like a gale of wind. When Enkidu saw how dense was the forest and how threatening, he tried to make Gilgamish turn back, but all his entreaties were in vain. As they were going through the forest to attack Khumbaba, Enkidu dreamed two or three dreams, and when he related them to Gilgamish, this hero interpreted them as auguries of their success and the slaughter of Khumbaba. The fragmentary character of the text here makes it very difficult to find out exactly what steps the two heroes took to overcome Khumbaba, but there is no doubt that they did overcome him, and that they returned to Erech in triumph. The Sixth Tablet On his return to Erech, Gilgamish 1. Washed his armour, cleaned his weapons, 2. Dressed his hair and let it fall down on his back. 3. He cast off his dirty garments and put on clean ones 4. He arrayed himself in the [royal head-cloth], he bound on the fillet, 5. He put on his crown, he bound on the fillet. 6. Then the eyes of the Majesty of the goddess Ishtar lighted on the goodliness of Gilgamish [and she said], 7. "Go to, Gilgamish, thou shalt be my lover. 8. Give me thy [love]-fruit, give to me, I say. 9. Thou shalt be my man, I will be thy woman. 10. I will make to be harnessed for thee a chariot of lapis-lazuli and gold. 11. The wheels thereof shall be of gold and the horns of precious stones. 12. Thou shalt harness daily to it mighty horses. 13. Come into our house with the perfume of the cedar upon thee. 14. When thou enterest into our house 15. Those who sit upon thrones shall kiss thy feet. 16. Kings, lords and nobles shall bow their backs before thee. 17. The gifts of mountain and land they shall bring as tribute to thee. 18. Thy ... and thy sheep shall bring forth twins. 19. Baggage animals shall come laden with tribute. 20. The [horse] in thy chariot shall prance proudly, 21. There shall be none like unto the beast that is under thy yoke." In answer to Ishtar's invitation Gilgamish makes a long speech, in which he reviews the calamities and misfortunes of those who have been unfortunate enough to become the lovers of the goddess. Her love is like a door that lets in wind and storm, a fortress that destroys the warriors inside it, an elephant that smashes his howdah, etc. He says, "What lover didst thou love for long? Which of thy shepherds flourished? Come now, I will describe the calamity [that goeth with thee]." He refers to Tammuz, the lover of her youth, for whom year by year she arranges wailing commemorations. Every creature that falls under her sway suffers mutilation or death, the bird's wings are broken, the lion is destroyed, the horse is driven to death with whip and spur; and his speech concludes with the words: "Dost thou love me, and wouldst thou treat me as thou didst them?" When Ishtar heard these words she was filled with rage, and she went up to heaven and complained to Anu, her father, and Antu, her mother, that Gilgamish had cursed her and revealed all her iniquitous deeds and actions. She followed up her complaint with the request that Anu should create a mighty bull of heaven to destroy Gilgamish, and she threatened her father that if he did not grant her request she would do works of destruction, presumably in the world. Anu created the fire-breathing (?) bull of heaven and sent him to the city of Erech, where he destroyed large numbers of the people. At length Enkidu and Gilgamish determined to go forth and slay the bull. When they came to the place where he was, Enkidu seized him by the tail, and Gilgamish delivered deadly blows between his neck and his horns, and together they killed, him. As soon as Ishtar heard of the death of the bull she rushed out on the battlements of the walls of Erech and cursed Gilgamish for destroying her bull. When Enkidu heard what Ishtar said, he went and tore off a portion of the bull's flesh from his right side, and threw it at the goddess, saying, "Could I but fight with thee I would serve thee as I have served him! I would twine his entrails about thee." Then Ishtar gathered together all her temple women and harlots, and with them made lamentation over the portion of the bull which Enkidu had thrown at her. And Gilgamish called together the artisans of Erech who came and marvelled at the size of the bull's horns, for their bulk was equal to 30 minas of lapis-lazuli, and their thickness to the length of two fingers, and they could contain six Kur measures of oil. Then Gilgamish took them to the temple of the god Lugalbanda and hung them up there on the throne of his majesty, and having made his offering he and Enkidu went to the Euphrates and washed their hands, and walked back to the market-place of Erech. As they went through the streets of the city the people thronged about them to get a sight of their faces. When Gilgamish asked: "Who is splendid among men? Who is glorious among heroes?" these questions were answered by the women of the palace who cried: "Gilgamish is splendid among men. Gilgamish is glorious among heroes." When Gilgamish entered his palace he ordered a great festival to be kept, and his guests were provided by him with beds to sleep on. On the night of the festival Enkidu had a dream, and he rose up and related it to Gilgamish. The Seventh Tablet. About the contents of the Seventh Tablet there is considerable doubt, and the authorities differ in their opinions about them. A large number of lines of text are wanting at the beginning of the Tablet, but it is very probable that they contained a description of Enkidu's dream. This may have been followed by an interpretation of the dream, either by Gilgamish or some one else, but whether this be so or not, it seems tolerably certain that the dream portended disaster for Enkidu. A fragment, which seems to belong to this Tablet beyond doubt, describes the sickness and death of Enkidu. The cause of his sickness is unknown, and the fragment merely states that he took to his bed and lay there for ten days, when his illness took a turn for the worse, and on the twelfth day he died. He may have died of wounds received in some fight, but it is more probable that he succumbed to an attack of Mesopotamian fever. When Gilgamish was told that his brave friend and companion in many fights was dead, he could not believe it, and he thought that he must be asleep, but when he found that death had really carried off Enkidu, he broke out into the lament which formed the beginning of the text of the next Tablet. The Eighth Tablet. In this lament he calls Enkidu his brave friend and the "panther of the desert," and refers to their hunts in the mountains, and to their slaughter of the bull of heaven, and to the overthrow of Khumbaba in the forest of cedar, and then he asks him: "What kind of sleep is this which hath laid hold upon thee? "Thou starest out blankly (?) and hearest me not!" But Enkidu moved not, and when Gilgamish touched his breast his heart was still. Then laying a covering over him as carefully as if he had been his bride, he turned away from the dead body and in his grief roared like a raging lion and like a lioness robbed of her whelps. The Ninth Tablet. In bitter grief Gilgamish wandered about the country uttering lamentations for his beloved companion, Enkidu. As he went about he thought to himself, "I myself shall die, and shall not I then be as Enkidu? "Sorrow hath entered into my soul, "Because of the fear of death which hath got hold of me do I wander over the country." His fervent desire was to escape from death, and remembering that his ancestor Uta-Napishtim, the son of Ubara-Tutu, had become deified and immortal, Gilgamish determined to set out for the place where he lived in order to obtain from him the secret of immortality. Where Uta-Napishtim lived was unknown to Gilgamish, but he seems to have made up his mind that he would have to face danger in reaching the place, for he says, "I will set out and travel quickly. I shall reach the defiles in the mountains by night, and if I see lions, and am terrified at them, I shall lift up my head and appeal to the goddess Sin, and to Ishtar, the Lady of the Gods, who is wont to hearken to my prayers." After Gilgamish set out to go to the west he was attacked either by men or animals, but he overcame them and went on until he arrived at Mount Mashu, where it would seem the sun was thought both to rise and to set. The approach to this mountain was guarded by Scorpion-men, whose aspect was so terrible that the mere sight of it was sufficient to kill the mortal who beheld them; even the mountains collapsed under the glance of their eyes. When Gilgamish saw the Scorpion-men he was smitten with fear, and under the influence of his terror the colour of his face changed; but he plucked up courage and bowed to them humbly. Then a Scorpion-man cried out to his wife, saying, "The body of him that cometh to us is the flesh of the gods," and she replied, "Two-thirds of him is god, and the other third is man." The Scorpion-man then received Gilgamish kindly, and warned him that the way which he was about to travel was full of danger and difficulty. Gilgamish told him that he was in search of his ancestor, Uta-Napishtim, who had been deified and made immortal by the gods, and that it was his intention to go to him to learn the secret of immortality. The Scorpion-man in answer told him that it was impossible for him to continue his journey through that country, for no man had ever succeeded in passing through the dark region of that mountain, which required twelve double-hours to traverse. Nothing dismayed, Gilgamish set out on the road through the mountains, and the darkness increased in density every hour, but he struggled on, and at the end of the twelfth hour he arrived at a region where there was bright daylight, and he entered a lovely garden, filled with trees loaded with luscious fruits, and he saw the "tree of the gods." The Tenth Tablet. In the region to which Gilgamish had come stood the palace or fortress of the goddess Siduri-Sabîtu, and to this he directed his steps with the view of obtaining help to continue his journey. The goddess wore a girdle and sat upon a throne by the side of the sea, and when she saw him coming towards her palace, travel-stained and clad in the ragged skin of some animal, she thought that he might prove an undesirable visitor and so ordered the door of her palace to be closed against him. But Gilgamish managed to obtain speech with her, and having asked her what ailed her, and why she had closed her door, he threatened to smash the bolt and break down the door. In answer Siduri-Sabitu said to him:-- 33. "Why are thy cheeks wasted? Thy face is bowed down, 34. "Thine heart is sad, thy form is dejected. 35. "Why is there lamentation in thy heart?" And she went on to tell him that he had the appearance of one who had travelled far, that he was a painful sight to look upon, that his face was burnt, and finally seems to have suggested that he was a runaway trying to escape trom the country. To this Gilgamish replied: 39. "Why should not my cheeks be wasted, my face bowed down, 40. "My heart sad, my form dejected?" And then he told the goddess that his ill-looks and miserable appearance were due to the fact that death had carried off his dear friend Enkidu, the "panther of the desert," who had traversed the mountains with him and had helped him to overcome Khumbaba in the cedar forest, and to slay the bull of heaven, Enkidu his dear friend who had fought with lions and killed them, and who had been with him in all his difficulties; and, he added, "I wept over him for six days and nights ... before I would let him be buried." Continuing his narrative, Gilgamish said to Sabîtu-Siduri: 57. "I was horribly afraid.... 58. "I was afraid of death, and therefore I fled through the country. The fate of my friend lieth heavily upon me, 59. "Therefore am I travelling on a long journey through the country. "The fate of my friend lieth heavily upon me, 60. "Therefore am I travelling on a long journey through the country. 61. "How is it possible for me to keep silence about it? How is it possible for me to cry out [the story of] it? 62. "My friend whom I loved hath become like the dust. "Enkidu, my friend whom I loved hath become like the dust. 63. "Shall not I myself also be obliged to lay me down 64. "And never again rise up to all eternity?" 65. Gilgamish [continued] to speak unto Sabîtu [saying]: 66. "[O] Sabîtu, which is the way to Uta-Napishtim? 67. "What is the description thereof? Give me, give me the description thereof. 68. "If it be possible I will cross the sea, 69. "If it be impossible I will travel by land." 70. Then Sabîtu answered and said unto Gilgamish: 71. "There is no passage most assuredly, O Gilgamish. 72. "And no one, from the earliest times, hath been able to cross the sea. 73. "The hero Shamash (the Sun-god) hath indeed crossed the sea, but who besides him could do so? 74. "The passage is hard, and the way is difficult. 75. "And the Waters of Death which block the other end of it are deep. 76. "How then, Gilgamish, wilt thou be able to cross the sea? 77. "When thou arrivest at the Waters of Death what wilt thou do?" Sabîtu then told Gilgamish that Ur-Shanabi, the boatman of Uta-Napishtim, was in the place, and that he should see him, and added: 81. "If it be possible cross with him, and if it be impossible come back." Gilgamish left the goddess and succeeded in finding Ur-Shanabi, the boatman, who addressed to him words similar to those of Sabîtu quoted above. Gilgamish answered him as he had answered Sabîtu, and then asked him for news about the road to Uta-Napishtim. In reply Ur-Shanabi told him to take his axe and to go down into the forest and cut a number of poles 60 cubits long; Gilgamish did so, and when he returned with them he went up into the boat with Ur-Shanabi, and they made a voyage of one month and fifteen days; on the third day they reached the [limit of the] Waters of Death, which Ur-Shanabi told Gilgamish not to touch with his hand. Meanwhile, Uta-Napishtim had seen the boat coming and, as something in its appearance seemed strange to him, he went down to the shore to see who the newcomers were. When he saw Gilgamish he asked him the same questions that Sabîtu and Ur-Shanabi had asked him, and Gilgamish answered as he had answered them, and then went on to tell him the reason for his coming. He said that he had determined to go to visit Uta-Napishtim, the remote, and had therefore journeyed far and that in the course of his travels he had passed over difficult mountains and crossed the sea. He had not succeeded in entering the house of Sabîtu, for she had caused him to be driven from her door on account of his dirty, ragged, and travel-stained apparel. He had eaten birds and beasts of many kinds, the lion, the panther, the jackal, the antelope, mountain goat, etc., and, apparently, had dressed himself in their skins. A break in the text makes it impossible to give the opening lines of Uta-Napishtim's reply, but he mentions the father and mother of Gilgamish, and in the last twenty lines of the Tenth Tablet he warns Gilgamish that on earth there is nothing permanent, that Mammitum, the arranger of destinies, has settled the question of the death and life of man with the Anunnaki, and that none may find out the day of his death or escape from death. The Eleventh Tablet. The story of the Deluge as told by Uta-Napishtim to Gilgamish has already been given on pp. 31-40, and we therefore pass on to the remaining contents of this Tablet. When Uta-Napishtim had finished the story of the Deluge, he said to Gilgamish, "Now as touching thyself; which of the gods will gather thee to himself so that thou mayest find the life which thou seekest? Come now, do not lay thyself down to sleep for six days and seven nights." But in spite of this admonition as soon as Gilgamish had sat down, drowsiness overpowered him and he fell fast asleep. Uta-Napishtim, seeing that even the mighty hero Gilgamish could not resist falling asleep, with some amusement drew the attention of his wife to the fact, but she felt sorry for the tired man, and suggested that he should take steps to help him to return to his home. In reply Uta-Napishtim told her to bake bread for him and she did so, and each day for six days she carried a loaf to the ship and laid it on the deck where Gilgamish lay sleeping. On the seventh day when she took the loaf Uta-Napishtim touched Gilgamish, and the hero woke up with a start, and admitted that he had been overcome with sleep, and made incapable of movement thereby. Still vexed with the thought of death and filled with anxiety to escape from it, Gilgamish asked his host what he should do and where he should go to effect his object. By Uta-Napishtim's advice, he made an agreement with Ur-Shanabi the boatman, and prepared to re-cross the sea on his way home. But before he set out on his way Uta-Napishtim told him of the existence of a plant which grew at the bottom of the sea, and apparently led Gilgamish to believe that the possession of it would confer upon him immortality. Thereupon Gilgamish tied heavy stones [to his feet], and let himself down into the sea through an opening in the floor of the boat. When he reached the bottom of the sea, he saw the plant and plucked it, and ascended into the boat with it. Showing it to Ur-Shanabi, he told him that it was a most marvellous plant, and that it would enable a man to obtain his heart's desire. Its name was "Shîbu issahir amelu," i.e., "The old man becometh young [again]," and Gilgamish declared that he would "eat of it in order to recover his lost youth," and that he would take it home to his fortified city of Erech. Misfortune, however, dogged his steps, and the plant never reached Erech, for whilst Gilgamish and Ur-Shanabi were on their way back to Erech they passed a pool the water of which was very cold, and Gilgamish dived into it and took a bath. Whilst there a serpent discovered the whereabouts of the plant through its smell and swallowed it. When Gilgamish saw what had happened he cursed aloud, and sat down and wept, and the tears coursed down his cheeks as he lamented over the waste of his toil, and the vain expenditure of his heart's blood, and his failure to do any good for himself. Disheartened and weary he struggled on his way with his friend, and at length they arrived at the fortified city of Erech. [19] Then Gilgamish told Ur-Shanabi to jump up on the wall and examine the bricks from the foundations to the battlements, and see if the plans which he had made concerning them had been carried out during his absence. The Twelfth Tablet. The text of the Twelfth Tablet is very fragmentary, and contains large gaps, but it seems certain that Gilgamish did not abandon his hope of finding the secret of immortality. He had failed to find it upon earth, and he made arrangements with the view of trying to find it in the kingdom of the dead. The priests whom he consulted described to him the conditions under which he might hope to enter the Underworld, but he was unable to fulfil the obligations which they laid upon him, and he could not go there. Gilgamish then thought that if he could have a conversation with Enkidu, his dead friend, he might learn from him what he wanted to know. He appealed to Bêl and asked him to raise up the spirit of Enkidu for him, but Bêl made no answer; he then appealed to Sin, and this god also made no answer. He next appealed to Ea, who, taking pity on him, ordered the warrior god Nergal to produce the spirit of Enkidu, and this god opened a hole in the ground through which the spirit of Enkidu passed up into this world "like a breath of wind." Gilgamish began to ask the spirit of Enkidu questions, but gained very little information or satisfaction. The last lines of the tablet seem to say that the spirit of the unburied man reposeth not in the earth, and that the spirit of the friendless man wandereth about the streets eating the remains of food which are cast out from the cooking pots. E. A. Wallis Budge. Department of Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities, British Museum, July 24th, 1920. Note. The Trustees of the British Museum have published large selections of cuneiform texts from the cylinders, tablets, etc., that were found in the ruins of Nineveh by Layard, Rassam, Smith and others, in the following works:-- CUNEIFORM INSCRIPTIONS OF WESTERN ASIA. Vol. I. 1861. Fol. Il. (Out of print.) ---- Vol. II. 1866. Fol. Il. (Out of print.) ---- Vol. III. 1870. Fol. Il. ---- Vol. IV. Second edition. 1891. Fol. Il. (Out of print.) ---- Vol. V. Plates I.-XXXV. 1880. Fol. 10S. 6d. (Out of print.) ---- Vol. V. Plates XXXVI-LXX. 1884. Fol. 10S. 6d. (Out of print.) ---- Vol. V. Plates I.-LXX. Lithographed reprint. 1909. Fol. Il. 7s. INSCRIPTIONS FROM ASSYRIAN MONUMENTS. 1851. Fol. I1. 1s. CUNEIFORM TEXTS FROM BABYLONIAN TABLETS, &C., IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. Parts I.-V., VII.-XXIII., XXV., XXVII.-XXXIV. 50 plates each. 1896-1914.7s.6d. each. ---- Part VI. 49 plates. 1898. 7s. 6d. ---- Part XXIV. 50 plates. 1908. Fol. 10s. ---- Part XXVI. 54 plates. 1909. Fol. 12s. ANNALS OF THE KINGS OF ASSYRIA. Cuneiform texts with transliterations and translations. Vol. I. 1903. 4to. 1l. CATALOGUE OF THE CUNEIFORM TABLETS IN THE KOUYUNJIK COLLECTION. Vol. I. 8vo. 1889. 15s. ---- Vol. II. 1891. 15s. ---- Vol. III. 1894. 15s. ---- Vol. IV. 1896. 1l. ---- Vol. V. 1899. 1l. 3s. ---- Supplement. 8vo. I914. 1l. FOOTNOTES [1] A group of Sumerian words for "library" are (girginakku), and these seem to mean "collection of writings." [2] These bas-reliefs show that lions were kept in cages in Nineveh and let out to be killed by the King with his own hand. There seems to be an allusion to the caged lions by Nahum (ii. 11) who says, "Where is the dwelling of the lions, and the feeding place of the young lions, where the lion, even the old lion, walked, and the lion's whelp, and none made them afraid?" [3] (Brit. Mus., No. 91,026, Col. 1, ll. 31-33). [4] K. 1352 is a good specimen of a catalogue (see p. 10); K. 1400 and K. 1539 are labels (see p. 12). [5] For a full description of the general contents of the two great Libraries of Nineveh, see Bezold, Catalogue of the Cuneiform Tablets of the Kouyûnjik. Collection, Vol. V., London, 1899, p. xviiiff.; and King, Supplement, London, 1914, p. xviiiff. [6] Smith, Assyrian Discoveries, London, 1875, p. 97. [7] Published by Scheil in Maspero's Recueil, Vol. XX, p. 55ff. [8] The text is published by A. Poebel with transcription, commentary, etc., in Historical Texts, Philadelphia, 1914, and Historical and Grammatical Texts, Philadelphia, 1914. [9] A famous work composed by members of the College of Edessa in the fifth or sixth century A.D. [10] A transcript of the cuneiform text by George Smith, who was the first to translate it, will be found in Rawlinson, Cuneiform Inscriptions of Western Asia, Vol. IV., plates 43 and 44; and a transcript, with transliteration and translation by the late Prof. L. W. King, is given in his First Steps in Assyrian, London, 1898, p. 161ff. [11] The site of this very ancient city is marked by the mounds of Fârah, near the Shatt al-Kâr, which is probably the old bed of the river Euphrates; many antiquities belonging to the earliest period of the rule of the Sumerians have been found there. [12] Like the habûb of modern times, a sort of cyclone. [13] The star-gods of the southern sky. [14] The star-gods of the northern heaven. [15] The name of Gilgamish was formerly read "Izdubar," "Gizdubar," or "Gishdubar." He is probably referred to as [GR: Gilgamos] in Aelian, De Natura Animalium, XII, 21 (ed. Didot, Paris, 1858, p. 210). [16] Langdon, Epic of Gilgamish, pp. 207, 208. [17] The greater number of these have been collected, grouped and published by Haupt, Das Babylonische Nimrodepos, Leipzig, 1884 and 1891; and see his work on the Twelfth Tablet in Beiträge zur Assyriologie, Vol. I, p. 49ff. [18] See Langdon, The Epic of Gilgamesh, Philadelphia, 1917. [19] The city of Erech was the second of the four cities which, according to Genesis x, 10, were founded by Nimrod, the son of Cush, the "mighty hunter before the Lord. And the beginning of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech and Accad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar." The Sumerians and Babylonians called the city "Uruk Ki" ; the first sign means "dwelling" or "habitation," and the second "land, country," etc., and we may regard it as the "inhabited country," par excellence, of Lower Babylonia at a very early period. The site of Erech is well-known, and is marked by the vast ruins which the Arabs call "Warkah," or Al-Warkah. These lie in 31º 19' N. Lat. and 45º 40' E. Long., and are about four miles from the Euphrates, on the left or east bank of the river. Sir W. K. Loftus carried out excavations on the site in 1849-52, and says that the external walls of sun-dried brick enclosing the main portion of the ruins form an irregular circle five and a half miles in circumference; in places they are from 40 to 50 feet in height, and they seem to have been about 20 feet thick. The turrets on the wall were semi-oval in shape, and about 50 feet apart. The principal ruin is that of the Ziggurat, or temple tower, which in 1850 was 100 feet high and 200 feet square. Loftus calls it "Buwáríya," i.e., "reed mats," because reed mats were used in its construction, but bûrîyah, "rush mat," is a Persian not Arabic word, and the name is more probably connected with the Arabic "Bawâr," i.e., "ruin" "place of death," etc. This tower stood in a courtyard which was 350 feet long and 270 feet wide. The next large ruin is that which is called "Waswas" (plur. "Wasâwis"), i.e., "large stone" The "Waswas" referred to was probably the block of columnar basalt which Loftus and Mr. T. K. Lynch found projecting through the soil; on it was sculptured the figure of a warrior, and the stone itself was regarded as a talisman by the natives. This ruin is 246 feet long, 174 feet wide and 80 feet high. On three sides of it are terraces of different elevations, but the south-west side presents a perpendicular façade, at one place 23 feet in height. For further details see Loftus, Chaldea and Susiana, London, 1857, p. 159 ff. Portions of the ruins of Warkah were excavated by the German archaeologists in 1914, and large "finds" of tablets and other antiquities are said to have been made. 
46933	----	THE LIBRARIAN AT PLAY THE LIBRARIAN AT PLAY BY EDMUND LESTER PEARSON AUTHOR OF "THE OLD LIBRARIAN'S ALMANACK" "THE LIBRARY AND THE LIBRARIAN" [Illustration: LOGO] BOSTON SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1911 BY SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY (INCORPORATED) _Entered at Stationers' Hall_ Published, November, 1911 Second Printing, March, 1912 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S.A. TO MY MOTHER NOTE TO SECOND EDITION Since the publication of the first edition of this book two or three readers have pointed out that it needs an index. By the addition of an index, they say, its value as a work of reference would become almost wholly negligible. Impressed by the force of their remarks, I employed expert aid, and the index now printed at the end of the volume is the result. It was prepared by Miss Narcissa Bloom, an honor graduate of the Philander Library School, and it may therefore be relied upon as the flower of modern library science. E. L. P. CONTENTS PAGE THE INTEREST GAUGE 3 THE GARDENER'S GUIDE 19 VANISHING FAVORITES 41 BY TELEPHONE 63 A LITERARY MEET 89 "THE DESERT ISLAND TEST" 109 THE CONVERSATION ROOM 131 THE LITERARY ZOO 167 THEIR JUST REWARD 187 THE CROWDED HOUR 209 TO A SMALL LIBRARY PATRON 231 BY-WAYS AND HEDGES 235 MULCH 265 A BOOKMAN'S ARMORY 277 INDEX 303 THE INTEREST GAUGE THE INTEREST GAUGE "We are thinking of calling them 'interest gauges,'" said the agent, "but perhaps you can suggest a better name." I took one of the little instruments and examined it. Hardly over an inch long, with its glass tube and scale, it resembled a tiny thermometer. The figures and letters were so small that I could not make them out, though they became clear enough through a reading-glass. "Interest gauges," I remarked, "sounds like something connected with banks. I should think you could find a better name. Who invented them?" The agent looked important. "They were invented," he explained, "by Professor Dufunnie, the great psychologist. They are a practical application of psychology. Let me show you how they are used. Allow me--I will take this book--the 'Letters of Junius,' and attach the interest gauge. Here in the back, you see, the gauge is invisible to the reader. You will notice now, if you look through the glass, that the gauge marks zero. No one is reading the book, we have not even opened it, and the human mind is not acting upon the book. If you will take it into your hand, and look down at the gauge through the glass, you will see probably some little agitation of the liquid within the tube. You do, do you not? I thought so. That is because you are probably already familiar, to some extent, with the 'Letters of Junius' and the recollections that they arouse in your mind are exerting themselves upon the fluid. Now, if you will oblige me, open the book and read attentively for a few moments." I did so, and then handed it back to the agent. "Look," he cried, "as soon as you cease reading, the fluid sinks back to zero. But the little aluminum arrow remains at the highest point which the fluid reached--that is, the highest point of interest which you felt in the book. Ah, yes--40 degrees--a faint interest. You will notice that the degree-points are marked at intervals with descriptive phrases--40 is 'faint interest,' 30 is 'indifference,' 20 is 'would not keep you awake after 9 P.M.,' and so on." The thing was very fascinating. "It is astounding," I said, "for that is exactly my feeling towards Junius, and yet I tried to get more interested in him than usual." The agent laughed. "You can't fool the gauges," he said. "You can't do it, even when you know one is attached to your book. I need not say that it is absolutely correct when the reader is not aware that there is a gauge upon his book. You must see the value of these to a librarian. Let me show you how incorruptible they are. Have you something there in which you have absolutely no interest--some book or article that is dry as dust?" I looked about. "This pretty nearly fills the bill," I said, and I handed him a copy of a library magazine with an article by Dr. Oscar Gustafsen on "How to Make the Workingman Read the Greek Tragedies." The agent attached an interest gauge, and told me to read Dr. Gustafsen's article, and to try as hard as I could to become interested; to pretend, if I could not feel, the greatest excitement over it. I did so, and strained every muscle in my brain, so to speak, to find something in it to interest or attract me. It was no use--the fluid gave a few convulsive wabbles, but at the end the little arrow had not even reached 10, or "Bored to Death." Then the agent took a copy of "The Doctor's Dilemma," and putting an interest gauge on the volume, asked me to read a few pages, and to remain as indifferent as possible. I read it calmly enough, but the liquid in the tube mounted slow and sure, and when we examined the arrow it pointed to 80. "Try it on this," said the agent, handing me Conan Doyle's "Round the Fire Stories." I put on an interest gauge and read the tale of "The Lost Special." The arrow shot up to 98 before I had half finished the yarn. "The highest that the gauge will record, you see, is 140, though we guarantee them to stand a pressure of 165. They are not often subjected to anything like that. The average novel or short story to-day does not put them under a very severe strain. The greatest risk we run is from authors reading their own books. We had an especially dangerous case the other day, during some tests in the laboratory. We had a young author reading the proofs of his first book, and we put on a high pressure scale, capable of recording up to 210, and even then we took off the gauge only just in time. It had reached the limit, and there were danger signs." "What are danger signs?" I asked. "The liquid begins to boil," he said, "and then you have to look out for trouble. Now how many of these will you take? I can let you have a trial dozen for $4, or two dozen for $7.50. Two dozen? Thank you. You attach them in the back of the book--so fashion--or if the book is bound with a loose back, then you put them down here. There is no danger of their being seen, in either case. Here is our card, we shall be very pleased to fill any further orders. Thank you. Good day!" As soon as he had gone I left my office, and went out into the public part of the library. I had started for the reading-room, when I heard my name called. It was Professor Frugles, the well-known scientific historian. He is giving his course of lectures on "The Constitutional Development of Schleswig-Holstein" and I had attended one or two of them. They had already been going on for two months--and although he lectured four times a week, he hadn't progressed beyond the introduction and preliminaries. Both of the lectures I had heard were long wrangles in which the professor devoted his energies to proving that some writer on this subject (a German whose name I did not catch) was wholly untrustworthy. I was told by some of the most patient listeners that so far no single thing about Schleswig-Holstein itself had been mentioned, and that it did not appear to be in sight. The course consisted merely of Frugles' opinions of the authorities. Now the professor came slowly toward me, wiping his face with a large red handkerchief and waving his cane. "Got any new books?" he shouted. I told him we had a few, and took him back into one of the workrooms. He examined them. "This will do; I'll look this over," and he picked up something in German. I offered him another--in English, and, as I thought, rather interesting in appearance. "Pah!" he ejaculated, as if I had put some nauseous thing under his nose, "popular!" He exploded this last word, which was his most violent term of condemnation, and ran through the rest of the books. "Well, I'll take this into the reading-room and look it through," and he started with the German book. I prevailed upon him to take the other as well, and he consented, with a grunt. He did not notice that I had slipped an interest gauge into both of them. After a bit, I followed him into the reading-room. He was in a far corner, hard at work. Mrs. Cornelia Crumpet was engaged in conversation with Miss Bixby, the reference librarian, when I came in. "Oh, here's Mr. Edwards!" she exclaimed. "Why, what a library you have! I can't find anything at all about the Flemish Renaissance and I do not know what I shall do, for I have to read a paper on it to-morrow afternoon before the Twenty-Minute Culture Club. Miss Bixby was just saying she would get me something. Now what would you advise? There is nothing at all in the books I looked at." "Perhaps you looked in the wrong books," I suggested, observing that she had a copy of "Thelma" under her arm. "Oh, Mr. Edwards, how ridiculous of you! I'm carrying this book home for the housemaid; she's sick in bed, and the cook said she was homesick and threatened to leave. So I said I would get her something to read to occupy her mind. This is fearful trash, I suppose, but I thought it would keep her contented until she got well. But I do wish you would tell me what to consult about the Flemish Renaissance." "Mrs. Crumpet," I said, "Miss Bixby knows more about that subject in one minute than I do all day, and I advise you to let her prescribe." Mrs. Crumpet agreed to wait, while Miss Bixby went for the books. "Where's that copy of 'Thelma'? I put it down here. Oh, you have it, Mr. Edwards! Well, you had better let me take it; I'm sure it is too frivolous for you serious-minded librarians to read. I'll sit here and look it over until she comes back with those books." She took it, interest gauge and all, and sat down. Miss Larkin came into the room just then and asked me to come over to the children's department. "I want to show you," she said, "what an interest these children take in serious reading and non-fiction. It is most encouraging." When we arrived at the children's room she had two or three small persons arranged about the desks. "Now, Willie," she said, "which do you like best, story-books or nature books?" Willie answered with great promptness: "Nacher books." The others all confessed to an extraordinary fondness for "hist'ry" or "biography" or "nacher." I asked Miss Larkin's leave to try a little experiment, and then explained to her the workings of the interest gauges. We chose Willie as a subject for our investigations, and gave him a copy of one of his beloved "nacher" books, with a gauge attached. Five minutes' reading by Willie sent the arrow up to 30, but the same time on "The Crimson Sweater" sent it up to 110. "He seems to like Mr. Barbour better than the Rev. Dr. Fakir, Miss Larkin--I'm afraid that his enthusiasm for 'nacher' is in accordance with what he knows will please you. Why don't you use your influence with him to lead him toward truthfulness? It's a better quality, even, than a fondness for non-fiction." As I went back I met Professor Frugles. "Let me have this, as soon as it is ready to go out," he said, brandishing the German work; "this other--trifling, sir, trifling!" And away he went. But I noticed that the German book had only sent the gauge up to forty, while the "trifling" work, which had caused him to express so much contempt, had registered seventy-five. At the issue desk was Mrs. Crumpet, having her books charged. As there were no gauges on the books about the Flemish Renaissance, I had no data to go on, except the fact that although she declared she had "skimmed through" them all and found them "very helpful," she had not, so far, cut any of the pages. I did not mention this to her, as she might have retorted that we ought to have cut them ourselves. Which was quite true. But while she talked with Miss Carey, I managed to extract the gauge from "Thelma." At least, I took away the fragments of it. The arrow had gone up to 140, and trying to get still higher the little glass tube had been smashed to bits. THE GARDENER'S GUIDE THE GARDNER'S GUIDE I was looking over the proof sheets for some Library of Congress catalogue cards when I observed the name of Bunkum--Mrs. Martha Matilda Bunkum was the full name, and I was further privileged to learn that she was born in 1851. Everyone knows Mrs. Bunkum's two great works: "Handy Hints for Hillside Gardens," and "Care and Cultivation of Crocuses." Now, it seemed, she had accumulated all her horticultural wisdom into one book, which was called "The Gardener's Guide, or a Vade Mecum of Useful Information for Amateur Gardeners, by Martha Matilda Bunkum." The Library of Congress card went on to say that the book was published in New York, by the well-known firm of Ponsonby, Perks & Co., in the year 1911. It brought tears to my eyes, recalling the days when I, too, was a cataloguer, to see that the book had "xiv, 7, xv, 27, 316 p., illus., plates.", and moreover was 19 centimeters high. As soon as I had recovered from my emotion, I pressed the electric bell three times--a signal that brings Miss Anderson, the head of the order department, into my office, unless she happens to be arranging her hair before the mirror in the stack-room at the moment. This time she came promptly. "Miss Anderson," I said, "we must get a copy of Mrs. Bunkum's 'Gardener's Guide.'" She instantly looked intelligent and replied, "We have one here now, on approval; it came in from Malkan this morning," and she hurried out to get it. When I had the book, I regarded it lovingly. "I wish I knew what the 'A. L. A. Book List' says about this," I pondered. "It will be along in a couple of months," said Miss Anderson, "and then we can find out." I told Miss Anderson to keep the book, anyhow, and to have this copy charged to my private account. That night, on the way home, I expended $1.65 for flower seeds. They were all put up in attractive little envelopes, with the most gorgeous pictures on the front, representing blossoms of tropical splendor. On the backs was a great deal of information, as well as Latin names, confident prediction of what a dazzling mass of bloom the little packets would bring forth, and warnings "not to plant these seeds deeper than one-sixteenth of an inch." All but the sunflowers. I could not get any sunflower seeds in packets, and finally had to get them in a paper bag--an enormous lot of them, for five cents. But there were no pictures, and no directions about depth. All this, I reflected, would be forthcoming from the pages of Mrs. Bunkum. On the following evening, in company with Jane, I went forth to sow. Jane had the "Gardener's Guide" and I took certain tools and implements. By the time I had a trench excavated a little shower came up, and Jane retreated to the veranda. I had on old clothes and didn't mind. "Jane!" I called, "look up Mrs. Bunkum and see how deep to plant sunflower seeds." All the directions on the little packets were so precise about depths--some seeds an inch, some half an inch, and some (the poppies, for instance) only a sixteenth of an inch below the surface--that I was tremendously impressed with the importance of it all. Previously, I had thought you just stuck seeds in any old way. But the rain was coming down harder now, and my spectacles were getting blurred. Jane seemed to be lost in admiration of the frontispiece to the "Gardener's Guide." She began to turn the leaves of the index rapidly, and I could hear her mutter: "Q, R, S--here it is. Scrap-book, screens, slugs, sowing, spider on box. Oh, I hate spiders! Sunbonnet, sun-dial, sweet peas. Why, there isn't anything about sunflowers!" This annoyed me very much. "Jane," I said, "how perfectly absurd! Do you suppose an authority like Mrs. Bunkum would write a book on gardening, and not mention such common things as sunflowers? Look again." She did so, but presently shouted back: "Well, I don't care! It goes right from sun-dial to sweet peas, and then Sweet William, and then to the T's--Tigrinum and Tobacco Water. I don't see what this 'Sunbonnet' means, do you? Perhaps it's a misprint for sunflower. I'll look it up--page 199." Presently Jane found the reference she was hunting, and read it to me, leaning out over the rail of the veranda. "Unless a woman possesses a skin impervious to wind and sun, she is apt to come through the summer looking as red and brown as an Indian; and if one is often out in the glare, about the only headgear that can be worn to prevent this, is the old-fashioned sunbonnet. With its poke before and cape behind, protecting the neck, one really cannot become sunburned, and pink ones are not so bad. Retired behind its friendly shelter, you are somewhat deaf to the world; and at the distant house, people may shout to you and bells be rung at you, and, if your occupation be engrossing, the excuse 'no one can hear through a sunbonnet' must be accepted." Jane read this with the liveliest interest, and at its conclusion remarked: "I believe I'll get a blue one, in spite of her!" I sneezed two or three times at this point, and asked her to try again for sunflowers. "Look here," I suggested, "I've noticed that index. Perhaps sunflowers are entered under their class as hardy annuals, or biennials, or periodicals, or whatever they are. Look 'em up that way." She did so. "Nothing under 'Hardy annuals,'" she announced, "except 'hardy roses'; under 'Biennials' it says 'see also names of flowers.'" This made her laugh and say: "Here's a librarian getting a taste of his own medicine. No, it gives a reference to page 117. Here it is: 'There are but few hardy biennials. The important ones, which no garden should be without, are: Digitalis, and Campanula Medium.' Why, I thought Digitalis was something you put in your eye!" "Did you look under 'periodicals'?" I retorted. "I could put something in _her_ eye! Did you look under 'periodicals'?" Jane referred again to the index. "There isn't any such thing," she said presently; "don't you mean perennials? Here's a lot about them. Oh, yes, and a list of them, too. Now, let me see--Aquilegia, Dianthus barbatus, Dicentra spectabilis--gracious! do you suppose any of those are sunflowers?" I groaned. "Would you mind getting me a rain-coat? I'm afraid these seeds will sprout in my hand in a few minutes, if we don't get some information soon." Jane went into the house, but returned in about five minutes with an umbrella. "Your rain-coat isn't here," she said, "you left it at the library that day that it cleared during the afternoon. I will send Amanda out with this umbrella." "Do so by all means," I replied, "as I have only two hands occupied with the trowel and the sunflower seeds it will be a pleasure to balance an umbrella as well." But Jane did not notice the sarcasm, and presently Amanda tiptoed out through the wet grass with the umbrella. I was left trying to hold it, and wondering how Mrs. Bunkum acted in a crisis like this. But of course she never got caught in one. She would know right off the bat just how deep to put the seeds. At any rate, Jane's researches among the Aquilegias had given me an idea. "Look here," I called, "Mrs. Bunkum is so confounded classical or scientific, or whatever it is, that I believe she scorns to use such a vulgar word as sunflower. She's probably put it under its scientific name." Jane looked as though the last difficulty had been removed. "What would the scientific name be?" she inquired. "I am trying to think, as well as I can, standing in this puddle." I was sparring for time. "It would be _helio_ something, I suppose," I added. "Heliotrope, of course!" exclaimed Jane, with a glad chortle. "Here they are; all about them!" "No! no! no!" I shouted, "I do wish you wouldn't jump at conclusions so. Heliotrope means a flower that turns around to follow the sun." "Well," she said, "I thought sunflowers did that." "So they do," I told her, "but heliotropes are little blue things, as you very well know--or ought to. Now, you go to the telephone, and call up the library, and ask for Miss Fairfax. She is in the reference room now, or ought to be." There was a pause, while I could hear Jane at the telephone. "North, double six three, please. No, double six three. Yes. Hello! Hello! Is this the library? Yes, the library. Yes; is Miss Fairfax there? Ask her to come to the 'phone, please. I said, ask her to come to the 'phone. Is that Miss Fairfax? Oh, Miss Fairfax, this is Mrs. Edwards. Mr. Edwards wants you to go as quickly as possible to the reference room and look up the scientific name for sunflowers. He says, look it up in Bailey. Do you understand? What? What? No, I said the scientific name for sunflowers, you know, s-u-n-f-l-o-w-e-r-s. The tall things with yellow petals and brown centers. _Sunflowers!!!_ What? Who is this talking? Is this Miss Fairfax? What, isn't this the Public Library? What? Well, where is it, then? Henderson's glue factory? Oh, pardon me! I thought it was the Public Library. Central gave me the wrong number.... Hello, is this central? Well, you gave me the wrong number; you gave me North double six two. I want North double six three--the Public Library. Yes, please. Hello, is this the Public Library? Yes; who is this speaking, please? Oh, Miss Anderson? Is that you? This is Mrs. Edwards, yes. What are you staying so late for? You are? Well, I shall speak to Mr. Edwards about it. It is perfectly ridiculous to have you working overtime night after night, and all for that foolish exhibition, too. I know these librarians; if they would have the courage not to try to do so much when the city is so stingy about giving them assistants! Well, you go right home now and get your dinner. The idea! What? You have accessioned two hundred books this afternoon? If Mr. Edwards doesn't stop that, I shall, that's all. Oh, you have saved me out a copy of 'The Chaperone.' How nice of you! No, I certainly do not. I didn't like 'Cora Kirby' very much, and 'The Players' was horrid! But I did want to see what this was like--it has been very favorably criticised. What? Oh, give it to Mr. Edwards to-morrow night, put it in his bag, at the bottom; he'll never notice it. I hope there are not any more of you there! Oh, Miss Tyler and Miss Hancock, out at the desk, of course, and who? Miss Fairfax? Dear me, that reminds me. Mr. Edwards wants Miss Fairfax to look up something for him. Goodness, I forgot all about it! He is standing out there in all this rain with an umbrella in one hand, a trowel in the other, and a package of sunflower seeds in the other. He'll be furious! Do go and get Miss Fairfax to come to the 'phone right away. Yes, to come to the 'phone.... What's that? Is that central? No, please hold the line; I haven't finished yet.... Is that you, Miss Fairfax? What? Oh, Miss Anderson? What? Miss Fairfax has gone to her supper? What on earth shall I do? Who is in the reference room? David? Who's he? Oh, that new page.... David, Mr. Edwards wants you to look up the scientific name for sunflowers; look it up in Bailey, David. What? Bailey who? I don't know. Ask some of them there.... Oh, well, wait a minute. Hold the line.... "Sam!" And she came out to the veranda again. "Sam, what Bailey is it they are to look it up in?" "Liberty Hyde," I yelled. "Cyclopædia of American Horticulture! But any dictionary will probably do. And, for the love of Mike, get a move on! I'm drowned, paralyzed! I'll have rheumatism for a week!" But she was already back at the telephone. "David, are you there? Mr. Edwards says it's Liberty Hyde Bailey's Cyclopædia of Horticulture. And you are to hurry, hurry! What is that? You don't know where it is? Well, look it up in the catalogue.... Oh, ask Miss Anderson to come back.... Is that you, Miss Anderson? Will you look it up, please? Yes, the scientific name for sunflowers. In Freedom Bailey's Cyclopædia of Agriculture, or any dictionary.... Did you find it? Yes? What? Spell it. Oh, _Helianthus_. Thank you so much! Good-by! And don't forget to send 'The Chaperone' home by Mr. Edwards to-morrow night. Thank you for keeping me a copy. Good-by...." She came back to the veranda. "I've got it at last, Sam. It's _Helianthus_. Where's Mrs. Bunkum? Oh, I left her in the study. Just wait a minute, now.... Yes, here it is, Helianthus, sure enough. How silly! Why doesn't she call 'em sunflowers? There, page 189. This is what Mrs. Bunkum says: 'The Helianthus Grandiflora, or common sunflower, is one of the most attractive and satisfactory of the perennials. Nothing is so suitable to place against a wall, or to employ to cover a shed or any other unattractive feature of the landscape. The stalks grow sometimes as high as eight to ten feet and bloom from July to September. It is well not to plant Delphiniums too near the Helianthus, as the shade from the former is too intense and it would not do to risk spoiling the lovely blossoms of the Delphinium. The latter ... why!" broke out Jane, "she goes on about Delphiniums now, and doesn't tell any more about sunflowers!" "Do you mean to say," I asked--and there was a hard, steely ring in my voice, "do you mean to say that Mrs. Bunkum does not tell how deep I am to plant these cussed seeds?" Jane was about to laugh or to cry--I am not sure which. "Not a word more than what I read," she answered. "Jane," I said solemnly and firmly, "go into the house. What is going to happen is not a fit sight for your eyes. Praise be, that book is mine, and not the library's, and I can deal with it justly. Give it here. And if you have any affection for Martha Matilda Bunkum, kiss her good-by. I do not know how deep these seeds go, but I know how deep she goes." And I began to dig a suitable hole. * * * * * I rejoined my wife at dinner after a bath and certain life-saving remedies. "Milton uttered curses on him who destroyed a good book, but what do you think will come up in ground fertilized by Mrs. Bunkum?" I asked. Jane giggled. "I do not know," she said, "but if you erect a tombstone to her, I can suggest an epitaph." "What is it?" I questioned. "The Gardeners Guyed," said Jane. VANISHING FAVORITES VANISHING FAVORITES It is nearly twelve months since anyone has lamented the disappearance of our old favorite characters of fiction. While these expressions of sorrow are undoubtedly sincere, they are seldom practical. No one, for instance, has ever suggested any method for the perpetuation of the heroes and villains of the old plays and romances. No one has urged that when the government subsidizes authors, and pensions poets, a sum shall be set aside for such writers as will agree to stick to the old-fashioned characters. Yet it would prove effective. Of its desirability nothing need be said. It is no answer to those who regret the passing of their old friends to say that they can still be found in the old books. That is like sending to a museum to view dried bones, some person who yearns to behold the ichthyosaurus splashing among the waves, or the pterodactyl soaring overhead. Indeed, the cases are similar for more than one reason. How greatly would the joy of life increase if we only had a few extinct animals left! The African hunter returns with an assortment of hippopotamuses, elephants, and jubjub birds. It would be more delightful if he could also fetch the mighty glyptodon, the terrible dinotherium, and the stately bandersnatch. There are few of the old characters of fiction more generally missed than the retired colonel, home from India. He was usually rather portly in figure, though sometimes tall and thin. Always his face was the color of a boiled lobster, and his white moustache and eyebrows bristled furiously. For forty years he had lived exclusively on curries, chutney, and brandy and soda, so his liver was not all it should be. His temper had not sweetened. He was what you might call irritable. During forty years he had been lord and master over a regiment of soldiers, and a village of natives, and he had the habit of command. His favorite remark was: "Br-r-r-r!!" That is as near as it can be reproduced in print, but from the manner in which his lips rolled when he delivered it, and the explosive force with which it ended, you could see that he had learned it from a Bengal tiger. His was an imposing presence, but his speaking part was not large. In fact, his only contributions to social intercourse were the exclamation which has been quoted, and one other. This sounded like "Yah!" but it was delivered with a rasping snarl which must be heard to be appreciated. Such was his manner toward his equals; toward servants and underlings he was not so agreeable. On the whole, there was reason to think that he was somehow related to the celebrated personage who "eats 'em alive," or to that other individual called Gritchfang, who "guzzled hot blood, and blew up with a bang." The colonel was a genial and interesting old "party," and we lament his disappearance. There was a turtle-dove to coo, however, in the same stories where the colonel roared. This was the dying maiden. She has not altogether left us--her final struggles are protracted. Her dissolution is expected at almost any moment now. Her specialty was being wan. Come what might, at any hour of the day or night, under all circumstances, she was very, very wan. You could never catch her forgetting it. She reminded you of Bunthorne's injunction to the twenty lovesick maidens--she made you think of faint lilies. Usually she lay on a couch in the drawing-room, but she could, with assistance, make her way to the window to wave her handkerchief to Cousin Harry departing to the war. She was in love with Cousin Harry, but knew that he cared most for proud, red-cheeked Sister Gladys. So she suffered in silence, and when Cousin Harry forged a few checks, she bought them up, and arranged a happy marriage between Harry and Gladys--who was in love with someone else. This was so that she could be a martyr. She loved being a martyr, and was willing to make everyone else intensely uncomfortable in order to accomplish her object. She was very gentle and sweet, and even the Colonel would cease to bellow and snort in her presence. The really learned heroine has gone for good. She is as rare as the megatherium. Her successors--the women who can discuss a little politics, or who know something about literature--are only collateral descendants. There is some doubt about even that degree of kinship. They are not the real things. Our old friend had stockings of cerulean blue--though she would have died had she shown half an inch of one of them. Her idea of courtship was to get the hero in a woodland bower and then say something like this: "Perhaps you have never realized, Mr. Montmorency, how profoundly the philosophy of the Rosicrucians has affected modern thought in its ultimate conception of ontology. The epistemological sciences exhibit the effect of Thales' dictum concerning the fourth state of material cosmogony." And Mr. Montmorency liked it, too. He had a reply all ready. He wondered if it really was Thales so much as Empedocles or Ctesias. She showed him that his suspicions were groundless. Thales was the man. He gave up all idea of holding her hand, and listened to a fifteen-minute discourse on the Peripatetics. After this kind of heroine, is it any wonder that we object to the bridge-playing ladies with a passion for alcohol, who are served to us by the novelist of to-day? The learned heroine of the old books talked as no one can talk now, except, possibly, a Radcliffe girl with a blue book in front of her, the clock pointing to a quarter of twelve, and a realization that a failure to get B minus in the exam. will make it impossible for her to secure a degree in three years. The saintly children of the old fiction are perhaps the offspring of the learned heroine and Mr. Montmorency. Certainly such a marriage would result in children of no commonplace type. These, however, tend not so much to scholarship as to good behavior. They would get 98 in all their studies, but 100 plus in deportment. They are too good to be true. They have enough piety to fit out a convocation of bishops, with a great deal left over. The little girls among them are addicted to the death-bed habit. Only they carry the matter further than the invalid heroine. They actually die. The one thing worth living for, in their estimation, is to gather a group of weeping relatives and the minister about their beds on a beautiful morning in June, and then pass serenely away, uttering sentiments of such lofty morality that even the minister feels abashed. The pet lamb, the hoop, the golden curls and the pantalettes, which had been their accessories during seven years in the mortal vale, are cheerfully left behind for the joy of this solemn moment. There ought to be no dispute over the statement that one other old-fashioned fictitious character is badly missed. This is the family ghost. The modern substitute for the real thing is like offering a seat in a trolley car to someone who has been used to a sedan chair. The modern ghost is a ready-made product of a psychological laboratory, and you know that his Bertillon measurements are filed away in a card-catalogue somewhere. The old ghost used to groan and clank chains, and leave gouts of blood (gouts always--never drops) all over the place. Or, if it were a lady ghost, she sighed sweetly and slipped out of your bedroom window to the moonlit balcony. You could get along with ghosts like either of them. You knew what they were up to. But the ghost of contemporary fiction is as obscure as Henry James. He is a kind of disembodied idea; he never groans, nor clanks chains; and you cannot be sure whether he is a ghost, or a psychological suggestion, or a slight attack of malarial fever. In nothing is the degeneracy and effeminacy of our literature more apparent than in its anæmic ghosts. Hashimura Togo says that "when a Negro janitor sees a ghost, he are a superstition; but when a college professor sees one, he are a scientific phenomenon." When that point has been reached with real ghosts, what can be expected of the fictitious ones? Along with the family ghost disappeared the faithful old family servant. He was usually a man, and he looked like E. S. Willard as Cyrus Blenkarn. He dressed in snuff-colored clothes, and he bent over, swaying from side to side like a polar-bear in a cage. He rubbed his hands. But he was very devoted to the young mistress. Lor' bless yer, Sir, he knew her mother, he did, when she was only that high. Carried her in his arms when she was a little babby. But he is afraid something is going wrong with the old place. He doesn't like the looks of things, nohow. With the superhuman instinct granted to servants, but denied to their superiors, he has become suspicious of the villain on sight. It is lucky that no one believes the old servant, or they would pitch out the villain then and there, and the story would come to an end at Chapter II. The utter chaos into which villains have fallen has been a cause for regretful comment for years past. Long ago it was pointed out that villains no longer employ direct and honorable methods like murder and assault. The sum of their criminal activities is a stock-market operation that ruins the hero. Things have gone from bad to worse. Now you cannot tell which is the villain and which the hero. The old, simple days when the villain, as Mr. J. K. Jerome said, was immediately recognized by the fact that he smoked a cigarette, have long since passed away. Now, the villain and hero in Chapter I. have usually changed places two or three times by the end of the book. Let no one think that this complaint is made because we regret losing our admiration for the hero. We never had any. He was always such a chuckle-headed ninny that you longed to throw rocks at him from the start. The lamentable thing is to see the villain falling steadily away from the paths of vice and crime, and taking up with one virtuous practice after another. Meanwhile, the hero is making feeble efforts at villainy, which result, of course, in complete failure. You cannot learn to be a villain at Chapter XXIV. It is too late. Villains, like poets, are born, not made, and in the older books the faithful servant could tell you that the villain was bad from the cradle. Hereditary influence and unremitting attention to business are as necessary in the villain trade as in any other. There is one other phase of the making of villains which deserves consideration. That is, their nationality. Once you had only to know that the man who appeared at Chapter III., twirling his moustache and making polite speeches, was a French count or a Russian prince, to be sure that on him would fall the responsible post of chief villain during the rest of the story. If the novel were written in America, an English lord could be added to the list. The titled foreigner, whatever he might be, was expected to try to elope with the heroine, for the sake of her money. The hero baffled him finally, and seized the opportunity, at the moment of bafflement, to deliver a few patriotic sentences on the general superiority of republican institutions. This is all changed. We have had novels and plays with virtuous, even admirable, English lords. Once or twice members of the French nobility have appeared in another capacity than that of advance agent of wickedness. It is time to call a halt, or the first thing we know someone will write a book with a virtuous Russian prince in it. The line must be drawn somewhere. The mission of Russia in English literature is to furnish tall, smooth, diabolical persons, devoted to vodka, absinthe, oppression of the peasantry, cultivation of a black beard, and general cussedness. We foresee that the novelists will soon have to draw upon Japan for their villains. Much ought to be made of a small, oily, smiling Oriental, who is nursing horrid plots beneath a courteous exterior. At the time of the first performances of Mr. Moody's play "The Great Divide," it was pleasant to see that a sense of fitness in the nationality of villains had not entirely died out. It may be remembered that the first act represents an American man joining with a Mexican and a nondescript in an atrocious criminal enterprise. At least one newspaper had the sturdy patriotism to call the dramatist to account for insinuating that an American could possibly do such a thing. "Furriners," perhaps, but Americans, never! Shame on you, Mr. Moody! While so many of the chief characters of the old fiction have vanished, there is a chorus of minor ones who have also moved away. Where, for instance, is the village simpleton? He was a useful personage, for he could be depended upon to make the necessary heroic sacrifice in the last chapter but one. When the church steeple burst into flames, or the dam broke and the flood descended on the town, or the secondary villain was tying the heroine's mother to the railroad track, the hero was holding the center of the stage and seeing that the heroine escaped in safety. But who was that slight figure climbing aloft in the lurid glare of the burning belfry, or swimming across the raging torrent, or running up to the bridge waving a red lantern? Who, indeed, but poor, despised Benny Bilkins, the village idiot? He fell with a crash when the steeple came down, or disappeared forever in the angry, swirling waters, or was ground under the wheels of the locomotive--but then there was a grave for the heroine to strew violets upon, in the last chapter. The miser, too, has utterly disappeared. In facial characteristics he resembled the faithful old family servant, except that he had deeper lines on his brow. He liked to get out a table, and sit over it with a bag of gold. No banks for him. He wanted his gold pieces near at hand, so that he could fetch them out at any hour, clink them together and gloat over them. He was a clinker and a gloater--he cared for nothing else. We do not have any misers now. Or, if they exist, they go away to a safety deposit vault, get their bonds and gloat over them. Half the fun is gone, you see. You can gloat over bonds as much as you like, but not a clink can you get out of them. That probably accounts for the disappearance of misers. We earnestly request some novelist to bring about a resurrection of these characters. They would be welcome in the short stories, as well. During the past fifteen years American fiction has gone through two epochs--the Gadzooks school and the B'Gosh school. It is now congealed in what may be called the Ten Below Zero School. Any constant reader of the magazines has to keep on his ulster, ear-tabs, mittens and gum-shoes, from one year's end to another. It never thaws. Loggers, miners, trappers, explorers--any kind of persons so long as they dwell in the frozen north--are what the magazine writer adores. One of Kipling's characters says that there's never a law of God or man runs north of 53. The magazine editors seem to think there's never a thing worth writing of, lives south of 85. Will not some of them dig up one or two of the old characters we have been discussing, and see if they cannot send the thermometer up a few degrees? We are tired of stamping our feet, blowing on our hands, and rubbing snow on our noses to keep them from falling off. BY TELEPHONE BY TELEPHONE "On January 14th," so announced a circular issued last month by the Ezra Beesly Free Public Library of Baxter, "we shall install a telephone service at the library. Telephone your inquiries to the library, and they will be answered over the wire." Now, January 14th was last Saturday, and this is undoubtedly the first account of the innovation at Baxter. Miss Pansy Patterson, assistant reference librarian, took her seat at the telephone promptly at nine o'clock, ready to answer all questions. She had, near her, a small revolving bookcase containing an encyclopædia, a dictionary, the Statesman's Year Book, Who's Who in America, Mulhall's Dictionary of Statistics, The Old Librarian's Almanack, the Catalogue of the Boston Athenæum, Baedeker's guide book to the United States, Cruden's Concordance, and a few others of the most valuable reference books, in daily use among librarians. Should this stock fail her she could send the stenographer, Miss Parkinson, on a hurry call to the reading-room, where Miss Bixby, the head reference librarian, would be able to draw on a larger collection of books to find the necessary information. Mr. Amos Vanhoff, the new librarian of Baxter, stood over the telephone, rubbing his hands in pleasant anticipation of the workings of the new system which he had installed. The bell rang almost immediately, and Miss Patterson took the receiver from its hook. "Is this the library?" "Yes." "This is Mrs. Humphrey Mayo. I understand that you answer inquiries by telephone? Yes! Thank you. Have you any books about birds?" "Oh, yes--a great many. Which--" "Well; I am so much interested in a large bird that has been perching on a syringa bush on our front lawn for the last half hour. It is a very extraordinary-looking bird--I have never seen one like it. I cannot make it out clearly through the opera glass, and I do not dare to go nearer than the piazza for fear of startling it. I only discovered it as I was eating breakfast, and I do not know how long it has been there. None of the bird books I own seem to tell anything about such a bird. Now, if I should describe it to you do you think you could look it up in some of your books?" "Why, I think so." "Well, it's a very large bird--like an eagle or a large hawk. And it is nearly all black; but its feathers are very much ruffled up. It has a collar or ruff around its neck, and on its head there is a splash of bright crimson or scarlet. I think it must be some tropical bird that has lost its way. Perhaps it is hurt. Now, what do you suppose it is?" "You see, I haven't any bird books right at hand--I'll send in to the reading-room. Will you hold the line, please?" Miss Patterson turned to the stenographer and repeated Mrs. Mayo's description of the strange bird. "Will you please ask Miss Bixby to look it up, and let me know as soon as possible?" During the interval that followed, the operator at central asked three times: "Did you get them?" and three times Mrs. Mayo and Miss Patterson chanted in unison: "Yes; hold the line, please!" Finally the messenger returned, remarking timidly: "He says it's a crow." "A crow!" exclaimed Miss Patterson. "A crow!" echoed Mrs. Mayo, at the other end of the wire, "oh, that is impossible. I know _crows_ when I see them. Why, this has a ruff, and a magnificent red coloring about its head. Oh, it's no crow!" "Whom did you see in there?" inquired Miss Patterson. "Miss Bixby?" "No," replied the young and timid stenographer, "it was that young man--I don't know his name." She had entered the library service only the week before. "Oh, Edgar! He doesn't know anything about anything. Miss Bixby must have left the room for a moment, and I suppose he had brought in a book for a reader. He is only a page--you mustn't ask him any questions. Do go back and see if Miss Bixby isn't there now, and ask her." A long wait ensued, and as Mrs. Mayo's next-door neighbor insisted on using the telephone to order her dinner from the marketmen, the line had to be abandoned. In ten or fifteen minutes, however, the assistant reference librarian was once more in communication with Mrs. Mayo. "We think the bird might possibly be a California grebe--but we cannot say for sure. It is either that or else Hawkins's giant kingfisher--unless it has a tuft back of each ear. If it has the tufts, it may be the white-legged hoopoo. But Mr. Reginald Kookle is in the library, and we have asked him about it. You know of Mr. Kookle, of course?" "What, the author of 'Winged Warblers of Waltham' and 'Common or Garden Birds'?" "Yes; and of 'Birds I Have Seen Between Temple Place and Boylston Street' and 'The Chickadee and His Children.'" "Yes, indeed--I know his books very well. I own several of them. What does he think?" "He is not sure. But Miss Bixby described this bird to him, and he is very much interested. He has started for your house already, because he wants to see the bird." "Oh, that will be perfectly lovely. Thank you so much. It will be fine to have Mr. Kookle's opinion. Good-by." "Good-by." * * * * * And the conference was ended. It may not be out of place to relate that Mr. Kookle, the eminent bird author, arrived at Mrs. Mayo's a few minutes later. As he heard that the mysterious stranger was on the front lawn, he approached the house carefully from the rear, and climbed over the back fence. He walked around the piazza to the front door, where Mrs. Mayo awaited him. Mr. Kookle was dressed in his famous brown suit, worn in order that he might be in perfect harmony with the color of dead grass, and hence, as nearly as possible, unseen on the snowless, winter landscape. He had his field glasses already leveled on the syringa bush when Mrs. Mayo greeted him. She carried an opera glass. "Right there--do you see, Mr. Kookle?" "Yes, I see him all right." They both looked intently at the bird. The weather was a little unfavorable for close observation, for, as it may be remembered, Saturday morning was by turns foggy and rainy. A light mist hung over the wet grass now, but the tropical visitor, or whatever he was, could be descried without much difficulty. He sat, or stood, either on the lower branches of the bush, or amongst them, on the ground. His feathers were decidedly ruffled, and he turned his back toward his observers. His shoulders were a little drawn up, in the attitude usually ascribed by artists to Napoleon, looking out over the ocean from St. Helena's rocky isle. But it was possible, even at that distance, to see his magnificent crimson crest. Mr. Kookle took a deep breath. "Yes," he said, "I suspected it." "What?" inquired Mrs. Mayo, eagerly, "What is it?" "Madam," returned the bird author, impressively, "you have my sincerest congratulations. I envy you. You have the distinction of having been the first observer, to the best of my knowledge, of the only specimen of the Bulbus Claristicus Giganticus ever known to come north of the fourteenth parallel of latitude." Mrs. Mayo was moved nearly to tears. Never in all her career as a bird enthusiast, not even when she addressed the Twenty Minute Culture Club on "Sparrows I Have Known"--never had she felt the solemn joy that filled her at this minute. "Are you sure that is what it is?" she asked in hushed tones. "Absolutely positive," replied the authority, "at least--if I could only get a nearer view of his feet, I could speak with certainty. Now, if we could surround the bush, so to speak, you creeping up from one side and I from the other, we might get nearer to him. I will make a détour to your driveway, and so get on the other side of him. You approach him from the house." "Just let me get my rubbers," said Mrs. Mayo. "Please hurry," the other returned. When the rubbers were procured they commenced their strategic movement. "If I could only be sure that it is the Bulbus!" ejaculated Mr. Kookle. Mrs. Mayo turned toward him. "Do you suppose," she whispered, "that it is the great condor of the Andes?" Mr. Kookle shook his head. Then they both started again on their stealthy errand. Slowly, quietly, they proceeded until they stood opposite each other, with the syringa and its strange visitant half-way between them. Then Mr. Kookle raised his hand as a signal, and they began to approach the bush. The bird seemed to hear them, for he immediately took interest in the proceedings. He raised his head, hopped out from the bush, and uttered a peculiar, hoarse note that sounded like: "Craw-w-w-w!" Mr. Kookle and Mrs. Mayo stopped in their tracks, electrified. Then the bird put its other foot on the ground and gave vent to this remarkable song: "Cut, cut, cut, cut, cut, ker-dar-cut! Ker-dar-cut! Ker-dar-cut!" Then it gave two or three more raucous squawks, ran toward the fence, flew over it, ran across the street, under Mr. Higgins's fence, and joined his other Black Minorca fowls that were seeking their breakfast in the side yard. Then Mrs. Mayo returned to the house, and Mr. Reginald Kookle, the author of "Winged Warblers of Waltham" and "The Chickadee and His Children," returned his field glasses to their case, turned up the collar of his famous brown suit, and walked rapidly down the street. * * * * * But Miss Patterson had been busy at the library telephone all this time. Scarcely had she ended her conversation with Mrs. Mayo when someone called her to have her repeat "Curfew Shall Not Ring To-night" over the telephone. This was only finished when the bell rang again. "Hello! This the library?" "Yes." "Well, I wish you'd tell me the answer to this. There's a prize offered in the 'Morning Howl' for the first correct answer. 'I am only half as old as my uncle,' said a man, 'but if I were twice as old as he is I should only be three years older than my grandfather, who was born at the age of sixteen. How old was the man?' Now, would you let x equal the age of the uncle, or the man?" Miss Patterson could not think of any immediate answer to this, nor of any book of reference that would tell her instantly. So she appealed to Mr. Vanhoff, who had returned to the room. "What was that?" inquired Mr. Vanhoff; "get him to repeat it." She did so, and the librarian struggled with it for a moment. "Why, it is all nonsense. Tell him that we cannot solve any newspaper puzzles over the telephone. He will have to come to the library." Then Mrs. Pomfret Smith announced herself on the telephone. "That the library? Who is this? Miss Patterson? Oh, how do you do? This is so nice of Mr. Vanhoff. I was coming down to the library this morning, but the weather is so horrid that I thought I would telephone instead. Now, my cousin is visiting me, and I have told her about a novel I read last summer, and she is just crazy to read it, too. But I can't for the life of me recall the name of it. Now, do you remember what it was?" "Why--I'm afraid I don't. Who was the author?" "That's just the trouble. I can't remember his name to save my life! I'm not even sure that I noticed his name--or her name--whoever it was. I never care much who wrote them--I just look them through, and if they're illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy or anybody like that, I just take them, because I know then they'll be all right. This one had pictures by Christy or Wenzell or one of those men. It was a lovely book--oh, I do wish you could tell me what it was! Where is Miss Anderson? She would know. Isn't she there?" "No--I am sorry, she will not be here till afternoon. If you could tell me something about the novel--the plot, and so forth, I might have read it myself." "Oh, of course you've read it. Why, you read all the books that come into the library, don't you?" "Not quite all." "You don't? How funny! Why, whatever do you find to do with yourselves down there? You're sure you don't remember the one I want?" "Why, Mrs. Smith, you haven't told me about the plot of it yet." "Oh, no, so I haven't. Well--let me see--Um! why, it was about--now, what in the world _was_ it about? Oh dear, I never can think, with this thing up to my ear! What's that, Central? Yes, I got them all right--hold the line, please. Oh dear, I'll have to ring off and think it over, and as soon as I remember, I'll call you up again. Thank you, so much! Good-by." The next was a man who spoke in a deep voice. "Hello! Is this the library? Have you a history of Peru? You have? Now, that is very fortunate. I do not know how many places I have inquired. I only want a few facts--only a paragraph or two. You can tell them to me over the 'phone, can you not, and I will take them down?" Miss Patterson had her finger on an article about Peru in the encyclopædia. "'Peru,'" she began to read, "'the ancient kingdom of the Incas--'" "Of the whichers?" interrupted the man. "The Incas," she repeated. "Spell it," he commanded. "_I n c a s_," she spelled. "Oh, Lord!" said the man, "that's South America. I've been hearing about them all day. The principal of the High School gave me a song and dance about the Incas. I mean Peru, Indiana. Here, I'll come down to the library--this telephone booth is so hot I can't get my breath. Good-by." * * * * * Mrs. Pomfret Smith, unlike Jeffries, had come back. She greeted Miss Patterson with enthusiasm. "Oh, Miss Patterson, I've remembered all about it now. You see, it starts this way. There is a girl, a New York girl, who has married an English lord, or, rather, she is just going to marry him--the brother of the first man she was engaged to steps in, and tells her that the lord isn't genuine, and he presents her maid with a jeweled pin which his mother, the countess, received from her husband--her first husband, that is--three days after the battle of--oh, I don't know the name of the battle--the 'Charge of the Light Brigade,' it was, and he was in that--no, his uncle was, and he said to his tent-mate, the night before the battle: 'Charley, I'm not coming out of this alive, and my cousin will be the lawful heir, but I want you to take this and dig with it underneath the floor of the old summer house, and the papers that you will find there will make Gerald a rich man.' And so he took it and when he got to Washington he handed it to the old family servant who hadn't seen him for sixty years, and then dropped dead, so they never knew whether he was the real one or only the impostor, and so just as the wedding was about to take place the uncle--he was a senator--said to the bishop, who was going to marry them: '_Please get off this line, I am using it!_' And so it never took place, after all. Now, can you tell me what the name of the book is, Miss Patterson?" "Why, I am afraid I do not recognize it. It sounds a little like Mrs. Humphry Ward and Ouida and Frances Hodgson Burnett, and someone else, all at once. Was it by any of them, Mrs. Smith?" "Oh, no, I am sure it was not. Why, I am surprised--I thought you would know it now, without any hesitation!" "I am sorry." "Oh, very well, then. Good-by." The last in a tone as acid and cold as lemon ice. It seemed to express Mrs. Smith's opinion of all librarians. Miss Patterson was much grieved, but the telephone bell rang again before she had time to reflect. "Is this the library? Oh, yes. I wonder if you have a life of Mrs. Browning?" "Yes--I think so. What would you like to know about her?" "Well, there--I am certainly glad. This is Miss Crumpet, you know! Miss Hortense Crumpet. I have had such a time. Have you the book right there? I do wish you would--" "If you will wait just a minute, I will send for the book--I haven't it here." "Oh, thank you so much." The book was fetched, and Miss Patterson informed Miss Crumpet that she now held the volume ready. "Have you it right there?" "Yes." "Well, I want to see a picture of Mrs. Browning. We have a portrait here, and my aunt says it is George Eliot, and I know it is Mrs. Browning. Now, if you could just hold up the book--why, how perfectly ridiculous of me! I can't see it over the telephone, can I? Why, how absolutely absurd! I never thought at all! I was going to come to the library for it, only it is so horrid and rainy, and then I remembered that I saw in the paper about your answering questions by telephone, and I thought, why, how nice, I'll just call them up on the 'phone--and now it won't do me any good at all, will it?" "I'm afraid not." "And I'll have to come to the library after all. Oh, dear! Good-by." "Good-by." The bell rang again as soon as the receiver had been replaced. "Hello! How are you for pigs' feet to-day?" "I beg your pardon?" "Pigs' feet! How many yer got?" "This is the public library. Did you call for us?" "Who? The what? No; I'm trying to get Packer and Pickleums. I don't want no public library. What's the matter with that girl at central? This is the third time--" His conversation ended abruptly as the receiver was hung up. Miss Patterson was soon called again. Mrs. Pomfret Smith was once more unto the breach. "Miss Patterson? I've remembered some more about that book, now. It had a bright red cover and the name of it was printed in gilt letters. It was about so high--oh, I forgot, you can't see over the telephone, can you? Well, it was about as big as books usually are, you know, and it was quite thick--oh, it must have had a hundred or two hundred pages--perhaps more than that, I am not sure. And the front picture was of a girl--the heroine, I guess, and a man, and he had his arms around her and she was looking up into his face. _Now_, you can remember what book it was, can't you, Miss Patterson?" A LITERARY MEET A LITERARY MEET Dr. Gotthold, formerly librarian to H. H. Prince Otto of Grunewald, has very kindly forwarded a copy of the "Olympian Times" containing an account of the recent field day, gymkhana, and general meet of the Fictitious and Historical Characters' Amateur Athletic Association. It is reproduced here verbatim: On the morning of the meet everyone was delighted to see that fair weather prevailed. As it was well known that the pious �neas was going to act as one of the field judges, a good many persons had expected that his old enemy �olus would contrive some kind of a kibosh in the shape of high winds. But nothing of the sort happened, and thousands streamed out to the grounds in the best of spirits. The assemblage was a brilliant one. The "Times's" representative noticed a number of automobile parties. A magnificent new car belonging to Helen of Troy carried its fair owner, and a select party consisting of Iseult of Ireland, Mme. Anna Karenina, Paris, Tristram and Don Juan. Another car, belonging to Baron Chevrial, contained that nobleman, as well as Mr. Dorian Gray, Iago, and James Steerforth, Esq. A special railway car belonging to Croesus, King of Lydia, brought a large party, including Omar Khayyam, Comus, Shylock and the Marquis of Carabas. The football game was scheduled as the first event. The two teams came on the field at a dog-trot led by their respective captains. This was the line-up: Achilles (Captain), l.e. r.e., Umslopogaas Mercutio, l.t. r.t., Raffles John Ridd, l.g. r.g., Learoyd Ursus, c. c., Falstaff (Hercules) Robinson Crusoe, r.g. l.g., Roderick Dhu Sir Launcelot, r.t. l.t., Capt. Brassbound Robin Hood, r.e. l.e., Hamlet (Captain) Ulysses, q.b. q.b., S. Ortheris Othello, r.h.b. l.h.b., Lars Porsena Rawdon Crawley, l.h.b. r.h.b., Sydney Carton T. Mulvaney, f.b. f.b., Hector Officials: Referee, Sherlock Holmes; umpire, King Arthur; field judge, Henry Esmond; linesmen, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. We do not know who was responsible for the make-up of the teams, and we cannot enter into a detailed description of the game, but we must say that a more hopelessly one-sided affair we have never witnessed. The team captained by the Prince of Denmark had about as much chance against that led by the swift-footed son of Peleus as Miss Lindsay's Select School for Girls would against the Yale 'varsity. Both teams were badly off for tackles, and while we do not wish to criticise the fairly good game played by Sir Launcelot and Captain Brassbound, we cannot help remarking that neither Mercutio nor Raffles had any business in that position. We understand that Mr. Raffles formerly had some reputation as a cricketer, and we advise him to stick to that game. As for Mercutio (whose reputation, we believe, rests chiefly on a rather unsuccessful duel in Verona a number of years ago) it was plain that his was the weakest part of the line. Time and again Hector tore through Mercutio for big gains. Indeed, if Hamlet had had the sense to keep pounding at left tackle his team might at least have scored one touchdown. But instead, Captain Hamlet would wander off between the plays, muttering to himself something about to punt or not to punt, and the quarter, Ortheris, was left to run the team alone. This was unfortunate, for although Mr. Ortheris played a quick and snappy game himself, his signals were badly chosen. We believe that the climate of India, where he used to reside, affected him in some unfavorable manner, so that he is subject to occasional fits of madness. What with the peculiarity of the captain of his team in this respect, it seemed as if their side were badly handicapped. Umslopogaas played brilliantly at right end, but it was no use. What in the name of common sense impelled their coach to put Sir John Falstaff at center? The day has gone by when weight is the only consideration in that position. Moreover, you cannot train for football on sack and capons. Ursus made the old knight look like thirty cents in counterfeit money. Luckily he was taken out at the end of the first period--wheezing badly--and Hercules took his place. The game ended as might have been expected--34 to 0, in favor of Achilles's team. The football game had occupied most of the morning, but after it was over there was still time for the spectators to witness some minor contests before luncheon. Many wandered over to the tennis courts. A set of mixed doubles was in progress, with Lady Macbeth and Pudd'nhead Wilson opposed by Morgan le Fay and Mr. Isaacs. The Queen of Scotland and her partner from Missouri took a love set at the beginning of the match, but the second set was hotly contested, and finally went to Morgan le Fay and Mr. Isaacs, 7-5. Morgan le Fay won ace after ace, proving herself the mistress of a very powerful and puzzling service, while Mr. Isaacs covered the court with the agility of a cat. They took the final set, and the match, winning easily with a score of 6-1. Gentlemen's singles were also being played, and at the time when our representative had to leave the courts the tournament was practically won by Nathan Burke, as the only undefeated players remaining were Hugh Wynne and Alfred Jingle. Under the trees near by, some games of cards were in progress. Miss Lily Bart was instructing Diana of the Crossways, Major Pendennis, and Mr. Pickwick in auction bridge. Horatius, hearing the word "bridge" mentioned, hurried over to the table, but when he saw what was going on, lost his interest and walked away toward the golf links with Sir Patrick Spens. At another table Mr. John Oakhurst seemed to have obliterated the color-line, for he was deeply engaged in a three-handed game of poker with Rev. Mr. Johnsing and Brother Cyanide Whiffles of the Thompson Street Poker Club. Everybody was interested in aviation, and when the rumor got about that the aviators were going to make some flights there was a general rush toward the hangars. Only three made ascents, however--Darius Green, Icarus, and Peter Pan. The first tried one of his celebrated spiral descents, and of course came to the ground with a crash. His machine was a total wreck. Icarus did not have much better luck--he was carried off to the hospital. He rose to an enormous height, and is said to have beaten all previous records for altitude, but something went wrong with his biplane, and he fell with terrible force. King Arthur, his duties as umpire of the football game finished, challenged Macbeth to nine holes of golf, and beat the Scottish king, on his own heath, so to speak. King Arthur's drives were magnificent, showing that the arm that once wielded Excalibur had not weakened since its owner's retirement to the island valley of Avilion. They play very classy golf in Avilion. Macbeth's putts were beautiful to watch, but as he usually arrived on the green in at least two strokes more than the monarch of the Round Table, they did him very little good. Twice on the drive he sliced, and the ball went wide into a grove of trees. When he asked his caddie the name of the grove, and the youth replied, "Birnam Wood, your Majesty," the former Thane of Cawdor turned pale and hammered the ground with his brassie. When the royal players came to the ninth tee, Macbeth was heard to mutter, "What though I foozle, top, and slice, and thou opposed be now three up--yet will I try the last--lay on, Mac--I mean, it's your honor, Arthur!" King Arthur did the difficult ninth hole in bogey, but poor old Macbeth plowed up the turf all along the fair green, and finally holed out amid a burst of Scotch profanity sad to hear. Neither of their queens was present--her Majesty of Scotland being engaged, as we have said, on the tennis courts, while Queen Guinevere--well, it is enough for anyone to read the line-up of one of the football teams to know that Queen Guinevere was still lingering around the clubhouse, waiting for the players to come out. We have no wish to mention unpleasant things, and we abhor scandals--still facts are facts, and it is the duty of a conscientious newspaper to record them. Down on the lake that expert submarine navigator, Captain Nemo, was entertaining a large crowd by the maneuvers of his celebrated boat, the Nautilus, and an exhibition of skillful paddling was offered by Hiawatha in his canoe. The sound of revolver shots drew a number of spectators to see a match between Sherlock Holmes and The Virginian. The greatest throng, however, surrounded a fencing bout between Cyrano de Bergerac and D'Artagnan. Cyrano had some dispute with the referee, before beginning, on the question of whether he should be allowed to compose a poem while he was fencing. He alleged that it was his custom to do so, and that he could not possibly appear at his best if the privilege were denied. His opponent objected, however. "Just a ballade, monsieur," pleaded Cyrano, "or at least, a vilanelle." "Cut out the poet business, Cy!" shouted someone--it is suspected that Chimmie Fadden was the man, and the referee so ruled. D'Artagnan was declared the winner of the match that followed. * * * * * After luncheon the whole assemblage were gathered about the diamond for the long expected game of baseball. This was to be played between two scrub teams known as "The Boys" and "The Old Men"--though some of the latter (notably Romeo and Richard Feverel) objected to the classification. These were the nines: THE BOYS THE OLD MEN Tom Sawyer, 2b. Allan Quartermain, 2b. Joe Harper, 3b. Natty Bumppo, r.f. Tom Bailey, l.f. Friar Tuck, c.f. Kim, c.f. Romeo, 1b. Tom Brown, r.f. Sam Weller, s.s. Jack Hall, s.s. Richard Feverel, l.f. Frank Nelson, 1b. Tom Jones, 3b. Mark the Match Boy, c. Don Quixote, c. Huck Finn, p. Hotspur, p. The Old Men banged into Huck Finn's delivery for three hits right at the start and came back for a couple more in the second inning. Huck, however, began to look better, and after the fourth he was swinging the ball over in great shape. The Old Men made but two hits in the last seven innings and none in the last five. Kim was the star on the attack. Up four times he made just that many hits, one going for a double. One of Kim's drives came fast on a long bound and hit Romeo in the face. Kim drove in a pair of runs with his double and started the scoring for The Boys in the first inning, while in the sixth he himself came across with the tally which eventually proved the winning one. Hotspur pitched a fair game. The greatest difference came in the defensive work of the teams. The Boys went through without a break. Tom Jones had a case of the wabbles for The Old Men, and there was a lot of uncertainty about the work of the infield because of the breaks he made. The outfielders for The Old Men were also having trouble fielding the ball clean and throwing to the plate. Sam Weller was the one chap on his team who was going at speed. He pulled off one play which belongs in the Hall of Fame, Joe Harper losing a hit and The Boys two runs as a result. With Allan Quartermain and Leatherstocking down in the first inning, Friar Tuck fattened his batting average a bit by bunting and beating the throw to first. Romeo put the ball over Tom Brown's head up against the bleacher front and legged it around to third, while Friar Tuck scored, a fumble by Frank Nelson on Tom Brown's return cinching things. Sam Weller lambed a single to center and Romeo scored. Sam was out stealing a moment later. Tom Sawyer got The Boys away in fine style with a smash to left for a single. Joe Harper drew a walk. Tom Bailey sacrificed, and Kim drove a hot grounder right through Allan Quartermain and wound up on second before the outfielders could get the leather back to the infield. Tom Sawyer and Joe Harper came home. Tom Brown popped up a foul to Romeo, and Kim was doubled off second after the catch. Both teams kept right on scoring in the second. Dicky Feverel got The Old Men away well with a single and then stole second. Tom Jones put him on third with a sacrifice, and Don Quixote gave him the opportunity to score on a long fly to The Bad Boy. Hotspur whaled a fly over Kim's head. The famous scrapper tried to make it a home run, but was caught at the plate on Jack Hall's return. In The Boys' half, after two had gone, Mark the Match Boy reached first on a fumble by Tom Jones. Huck Finn drove a single to right. Tom Sawyer put up a hot fly which Allan Quartermain failed to get, and Mark the Match Boy came home, Huck Finn going to third. Tom Sawyer stole second. Joe Harper drove a red-hot one over the bag at second, and it looked like a sure single and two more runs for the kids. Sam Weller went over for a sensational one-hand stop and threw Joe out at first. It was a phenomenal play. That settled the scoring until the sixth inning. Kim got a single, Tom Brown bunted and was safe when Tom Jones fumbled. Jack Hall sacrificed the pair along, and when Hotspur passed Frank Nelson the sacks were full. Mark the Match Boy raised a fly to Friar Tuck and Kim scored on the catch. Huck Finn fanned. The Boys' final run came in the eighth on Jack Hall's single, Mark the Match Boy's grounder through the lion hunter, and a single by Tom Sawyer. The score: Innings 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 The Boys 2 1 0 0 0 1 1 1 ..--6 The Old Men 2 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 ..--3 "THE DESERT ISLAND TEST" "THE DESERT ISLAND TEST" A roll of papers containing the following narrative has been forwarded to the "Transcript" by Captain "Sol" Farr of the Gloucester fishing schooner "Salt Mackerel." Captain Farr discovered them, floating about in an olive bottle, a few miles off Boston Light. As soon as he had examined the papers (which are slightly damaged by salt water and olive vinegar) he perceived their bearing upon an important literary question of the day, and very properly sent them to "The Librarian." The original papers are to be deposited in the Ezra Beesly Free Public Library of Baxter (Captain Farr's native town), where in a week or two they may be seen by anyone applying to the librarian, or one of his assistants, between 9 A.M. and 8 P.M. The narrative, written in a shaky hand, on twelve sheets of note paper, contains the following remarkable statement: * * * * * I, Professor Horatio B. Fassett, M.A., Ph.D., write this appeal (with a perfectly detestable fountain-pen) on an uninhabited and (so far as I am aware) unknown island, somewhere off the eastern coast of South America, on (as near as I can guess) the twelfth of December, 1908. For two years have I dwelt in wretchedness in this place, a most unwilling (and unsuccessful) follower of Robinson Crusoe. I know that it is customary in such appeals as this, which I am about (in the words of the burial service) to commit to the deep, to give, approximately at least, the latitude and longitude of my desert isle, in order that searching parties (which I earnestly pray may be sent for me) shall know where to look. Alas! all my studies have been devoted to literature and the fine arts, and although I have certain instruments which poor Captain Bucko used to ascertain the ship's position, I am as helpless with them as an infant. True, I have endeavored to look at the sun with them--and the moon, too, but I could not observe that those bodies had any than their usual aspect when thus viewed. As for the signs which are engraved on the surface of these instruments, I could copy them down here in hope that they might give a clue to those expert in navigation; but as they are, so far as I can see, exactly the same as those which were on the instruments when we left New York, I fear it would be of no avail. The only hint, then, of the geographical position of this island must come from my narrative. I beseech whatever person finds it to send news of me without delay to the president and faculty of Upidee University, where, alas, I suppose my chair (the James A. Rewbarb professorship of German Literature) is already filled. It is unnecessary for me to speak much of my career. In the obituary notices that doubtless appeared when the ship "Hardtack" failed to arrive at Valparaiso, I suppose it was stated that I was the only passenger on that unfortunate vessel. I am, I believe, the only survivor of her wreck. Worn out with revising proof of the second edition of my doctor's thesis ("That the umlaut should be placed one-fourth of a millimetre higher than is now the custom") I had, at the advice of my physician, embarked on the "Hardtack," sailing from New York for Valparaiso, Sept. 9, 1906. The voyage was uneventful for about four weeks, and life on the ship (which I think, by the way, was called by the captain a "brig") was not distasteful to me. One morning, however, I heard a commotion overhead, and going upstairs found Captain Bucko in a state of great excitement. I asked him the cause, and he replied that the mate had put the brig in irons. I had often read of this custom in times of mutiny, so I remarked: "I suppose it was by your orders, Captain?" He did not reply, and I presently learned the cause of his anxiety. They did not seem to be able to make the ship go ahead in a straight line, and, to make matters worse, a rocky island on which the waves were breaking violently, had been discovered on the right hand side of the vessel. I ought to explain that I am not perfectly familiar with all the technicalities of ship-navigation, and I retain only a confused idea of what followed. I know that I was ordered to get into a small rowboat which was jumping about in a most alarming fashion at one side of the ship, and that when I refused to take such a ridiculous step, I was seized by two sailors and thrown into the boat. I must have struck my head on something, for I knew nothing else until I found myself lying on a beach, pounded and bruised by the waves. I got up, and staggered to a place where the sand was dry, and there I fell again exhausted. Of the captain and the crew of the "Hardtack" I have never seen a trace, except a coat belonging to the mate, which was washed on shore a few days later. Their small boat was probably tipped over by the waves, and they were all drowned. It is strange that I, the only one of them unfamiliar with the ocean, should have been spared. The "Hardtack" itself evidently became hitched on a rock some little distance from the shore, for there it stayed for part of that day, with great waves beating upon it. At last the masts fell down, and in a few days the ship was broken in pieces, till nothing remained. Many of these fragments floated to the shore, with various articles from the cargo. For the first three days I was excessively miserable. I was forced to sleep out of doors on the first night, and when I felt hungry the next morning, there was nothing to eat. My tastes are simple, but my habits are regular, and in my rooms at Upidee, as well as in the "Hardtack," I was accustomed to have a cup of coffee at half-past seven each morning. Now I searched the shore for some hours, but could find nothing except some mussels or clams and a few starfish. The starfish were very tough, and not at all agreeable in taste, and though a Little Neck clam, properly iced and served with lemon and other condiments, is not an ill beginning to a dinner, I cannot pretend that I found these shellfish, eaten raw on a windy beach, other than nauseous. But I hasten over these troubles and also over my discovery of a large number of boxes of food which floated ashore, three days later, from the wreck. Some of it was edible and it sufficed until I found other means of sustenance on the island. Of my discovery of two deserted huts (relics of former castaways, perhaps), of my domestication of several wild goats, whom I learned (not without difficulty) to milk, and of my capture of fish in the inlet--of all these things I need not write. My troubles are not material, but intellectual. And they are so great that I earnestly implore some one to come to my rescue. To make my sufferings clear I must remind the reader that I am that Horatio Fassett who won the $500 prize from "Somebody's Magazine" four years ago for the best answer to the question: "If you were cast away on a desert island what one hundred books would you prefer to have with you?" I worked hard to compile my list, and it was generally agreed to be the most scholarly selection of one hundred titles ever made. The publishers of "Somebody's Magazine" not only paid me the $500, but presented me with a copy, well bound, of each of the books. These (packed securely in a water-tight box, so constructed as to float) accompanied me in the "Hardtack," and I need tell no scholar that during my first days on this island, as I walked the beach and watched the remnants of the vessel float ashore, it was not so much for cases of concentrated soup nor tins of baked-beans that I yearned, as for my box of the "One Hundred Best Books." At last it came! That was a happy day--about a week after my arrival on the island. I saw the box, tossed about in the surf, and I dashed in and secured it. I was now living, with comparative comfort, in one of the huts; and thither I carried the books. I was overjoyed. It was my privilege to put my books to the test--something that had never been accorded to the compilers of any of the similar lists which have been made in such profusion. With trembling hands (and a screwdriver) I opened the box and took out the books. They were in perfect order--the waterproof box had been well made. From this point, I copy the entries in my diary, and let them tell the rest of my dismal story. "Oct. 16. I arranged the books neatly, this afternoon, on top of some empty biscuit boxes. They were all there: Tasso, Homer, Don Quixote, The Divine Comedy, Browning, and the rest. They looked delightful, and reminded me of my study at Upidee. I wonder if I shall ever see that study again, and I wonder what will become of the second edition of my thesis on the umlaut. It was to appear next April, and now who knows whether I shall be there ready to reply to the attacks which I know it will provoke? "From this gloomy line of thought, I turned again to the Hundred Best Books. Which should I begin to read? There were my beloved Goethe and Schiller--should I start with them? I took a volume, and had opened it, when it occurred to me that I had not yet gone that day to the high rock where I looked for passing ships. I put Goethe back on the biscuit box, and spent an anxious afternoon staring at the ocean. But I saw nothing. "The evening I spent in trying to arrange some fishing lines, as the firelight--my only illumination--is not favorable for reading to one afflicted with astigmatism. I miss the electric droplight that I used at Upidee, or even the kerosene lamp in the cabin of the 'Hardtack.' I must try to make some candles. "Oct. 17. I passed the morning in trying to tame a wild goat--or perhaps I had better say in trying to induce one to graze outside my cabin, instead of investigating the interior. They are not at all shy, but are inclined to be rather sociable. In the afternoon I took Goethe with me to the high rock, where I sat with the volume on my knee keeping a watch for vessels. I cannot say that I read much. German literature makes me feel rather homesick, and I find brings me recollections of the distressing recitations of last year's freshman class. "Oct. 18. When I went to the lookout to-day I took Browning with me. Good heavens, I found I can no longer read Browning! This was an astounding state of things, and I had to examine myself rather sharply. I remembered that I had never for a moment been in doubt, when I made up my list, of including Browning. I had read, twenty years ago, the 'Dramatic Lyrics,' with the greatest of pleasure, but the longer poems had seemed to me rather dull, and indeed a large proportion of the poet's work was intensely irritating to me on account of its needless and exasperating obscurity. At the time I did not consider this a cause for worry. Browning was a great poet--everyone said so; his treasures did not lie on the surface--one must dive below in order to find the rich pearls which lay concealed there. I remember using this metaphor in a lecture that I delivered before the Woman's Club of Buffalo. I had always intended to study the longer poems; but I had never done it. Now they were unreadable to me. As for the 'Dramatic Lyrics,' they did not charm me as formerly. I found myself longing for a volume of Wordsworth or Tennyson. Neither was included in my Best Books, though I cannot see now, for the life of me, why I didn't include Tennyson. Could it have been because his poems are easy to understand and that I thought it would seem more 'scholarly' to put in Browning? "Oct. 20. I have not been to the high rock lately except for a brief visit after breakfast. I have had a little rheumatism--not being used to sleeping in draughty cabins. The goats have been a source of entertainment to me, and I have caught some crabs, which I keep in a little pool of salt water near the cabin. They are amusing to watch, and toasted crab-meat is far from bad at supper time. I kill one with a stick and then broil him on a hot stone. "Yesterday I tried reading again, but I am bound to confess that there was not much solace in it. The Odyssey I soon put down--too much shipwreck and wandering in strange lands. There is no Penelope waiting for me, even if I ever get home alive. And the thought of Ithaca reminded me of Cornell and Professor von Füglemann, who is all ready to tear my thesis on the umlaut to pieces. Shakspeare I picked up, but the first play I opened to was 'The Tempest.' I closed Shakspeare and put him back. "Nov. 25. Nothing has happened worth recording for weeks. Once I saw smoke, from a steamboat, I suppose, but smoke did not do me any good. "There is something the matter with this list of Best Books. For one thing, they are most of them so tragic. I would give anything for a volume of Mr. Dooley. But that is not all. I have always realized that the great literature of the world is very largely sombre, and I have no more sympathy now than I ever had with the people who want to read nothing but that which keeps them on a broad grin. Even in my dreary situation I could read tragedy, but I have brought precious little tragedy that I care for. No doubt most of my books are great monuments of literature, but I am afraid I must have forgotten, when I wrote my list, how few of these books I read now. I must have put them in because they are praised by writers of text-books, and because it seemed the proper thing to do. "As I go over my reading for the past five years at Upidee, in what do I find it to consist? First, the literature and text-books of my profession. Second, current books--history, biography, art criticism, and an infrequent novel or book of verse. There are not many living novelists or poets that I care about. It makes me fairly rage when I think that I hesitated between 'Pickwick' and 'Jerusalem Delivered' when I made up my list, and finally decided in favor of the latter as more weighty--which it certainly is. "I used my copy to help sink a lobster trap the other day. "Almost the only novel which I condescended to include in my list is 'Don Quixote,' and why did I do that? Because it has been praised for three hundred years, I suppose, instead of for only forty or fifty. It is about the only humorous work which I did include--and except for places here and there it is a dreary waste. "Aug. 10, 1907. It is now months since I have had the courage to face this diary. I dreamed last night that I had wandered into a book shop. There were rows of books, for any one of which I would have gladly given my whole celebrated One Hundred. (At least, I would give what is left of them. 'Don Quixote' has been used to paste over cracks in the walls of my cabin. 'Orlando Furioso' served to boil some sea-gulls' eggs one morning for breakfast, when I was short of firewood, and the 'Koran' fell into the fire one night when I hurled it at some animal--a fox, I think, that came into the hut.) The sight of that bookshop made me weep. I had seized a volume of Tennyson, Stevenson's Letters, and 'Sherlock Holmes,' when the shopkeeper jumped over his counter at me--and I woke, sobbing. "Sept. 1, 1907. One of the goats ate the �neid to-day. "Sept. 2. The goat is ill, and I have had to give it one of my few pepsin tablets." This is the last entry from the diary that I need transcribe. Over a year has elapsed since I wrote it; and my case is desperate. I will now seal up this narrative in a bottle, and throw it into the sea. Come to my rescue, or I fear I shall go mad! THE CONVERSATION ROOM THE CONVERSATION ROOM To the Honorable, the Board of Directors of the Blankville Public Library. Gentlemen: I am forced to lay my complaint before you, because your librarian, Dr. W. M. Pierce, so I am told, has sailed for Europe to attend a meeting of librarians in Brussels, whence he will not return for six or seven weeks. My name is doubtless familiar to you, but perhaps you are not aware that I am engaged in an important piece of research in your library. When I state that my work is an inquiry into the Indo-Iranian origins of the noun 'Fuddy-dud' and its possible derivation from the Semitic, you will understand that it requires the closest possible application and an entire freedom from interruptions and distractions. When I began my researches in your library, six days ago, I presented letters to Dr. Pierce. He very kindly installed me in an alcove, where he had placed a table and chairs, and where he allowed me to assemble the books needed in my studies--some one hundred and thirty or forty volumes. These, together with my papers and writing materials, are permitted to remain on the table from one day to another, as obviously it would be inconvenient for me to have to call for them each morning. It is my custom to begin work at nine o'clock every day, and to continue (save for an hour at noon) until 6 P.M. For a few days all went very well, and I was making fair progress in my work. But during the last two days, and particularly yesterday, I have been subjected to such annoyances that all of my studies have been held at a standstill. The library, and particularly the remote part of it in which my alcove is situated, has been little frequented during this hot weather. Yesterday, however, an invasion began. The alcove next to mine was visited by a succession of incongruous, inconsequent persons whose conversation made it utterly impossible for me to work. A complaint to Miss Mayhew, the assistant in charge of the library, elicited the fact that conversation is allowed in this alcove. It is out of the question for me to move my work, as an inspection of the building has shown that there is no other spot where the light suits my eyes. Yesterday afternoon, totally unable to do any serious work, I took down, in shorthand, the stream of driveling talk that occurred in that alcove. I now transcribe it here, in order that your honorable board may have an opportunity of judging the nature of the interruptions to which I am subjected. After giving them due consideration I trust that you will be able to take action in the matter. In the meanwhile my philological researches are of necessity suspended. I returned to my work, after luncheon, at two o'clock. The alcove next mine was occupied by two persons--a young man and woman, both about twenty years of age. Their talk reached me, and made it impossible for me to follow any consecutive line of thought. At the time when I began to take down their conversation, the young woman was saying: "What's 'Gibbon'? People are always talking about reading Gibbon--and then they look awfully wise. I've never dared to ask what they mean." "Oh, it's Gibbon's history of Rome--the 'Fall of the Roman Empire,' or something like that." "Have you ever read it?" "Great Scott, no! It's in about a dozen volumes--I don't know how many. I've read some of it--they made us do it, freshman year." "Is it awfully dry? Would I like it?" "It's pretty fierce. Nothing to Grote, though--Grote's 'History of Greece'--that's the limit!" "Gibbon is a man then? I wasn't sure what he was." "Yes; he's the author." "Oh, why, I've seen him! How stupid of me! I saw him when I was in Baltimore visiting the Ashfords. Why, he's just the _grandest_ thing you ever saw in your life. He came at the end of a great long procession, with the dearest little choir-boys at the head, and he was all in scarlet robes, and a great long train, with two more little boys holding up his train, and he had the loveliest lace collar--I just went crazy over him! And I saw him on the street afterwards, too, only he didn't have on his scarlet robes then. He had on black clothes, and a tall hat, and when he lifted his hat to someone he had on a little red skull-cap underneath it. Oh, he's a perfect dear. I'd like to read his book--I wonder if they've got it here?" "No, no--that's not the man. This was an Englishman--his first name was--I forget what it was. Anyhow he's been dead a long time. He was a very fat man, and he proposed to Mme. de Staël, or George Sand, or one of those women, and when he got down on his knees he was so fat that he couldn't get up again, and had to ask her to help him up." "How perfectly ridiculous! I hate fat men. I hope she didn't accept him! Did she?" "I don't know." "Well, I don't want to read his book, anyhow. But I've simply got to read something that sounds cultured and learned. Aunt Ella has been at me again; she says this is a good time, during vacation. Fanny Brooks has a great long list of the books she has read--I am so tired of having Fanny Brooks thrown at me! She never reads anything interesting, or does anything at all for pleasure. She ought to be a nun. Can't you think of something that will impress Aunt Ella--something that sounds awfully impressive and dry and cultured, but really is easy to read?" "Well, let me see, how about Browning?" "I've read him." "Like him?" "No." "It seems to be a tough proposition. What does your Aunt Ella read? Why don't you take some of her books?" "Oh, I don't know. She reads 'Women of the Renaissance' and things like that. I tried to read some of hers, and I told her I didn't like them. She said I couldn't expect to, because I haven't any foundation. How do you get a foundation--that's what I'd like to know! Aunt Ella is perfectly dippy on Italian art. Gracious, is that clock right? It's nearly three, and I haven't done any improving reading." "Look here, it's a corking afternoon--you don't want to waste it in this joint. Let's go down to the boathouse and get my canoe." "I'd like to. But what will I say to Aunt Ella?" "Oh, we'll take some book with us, and you can read while I paddle. What's that one on that shelf?--it looks dry as the deuce. Here you are, just the thing:--'Notes on the Architectural Antiquities of the District of Gower in Glamorganshire'--that would make a hit with Aunt Ella, all right!" "It doesn't sound very interesting." "You're right, there. Well, how will this one do? 'The Recently Discovered Cromlech near Is-sur-Tille.'" "What on earth is a cromlech?" "You can search me." "Let's take them both. I'll get them charged at the desk, and meet you outside. I'll read you all about the cromlech--if there are any words in the book I can pronounce." With this they went out, and I endeavored to take up my work. Before I could make the slightest progress, however, two more persons entered the alcove. These, to judge from the conversation, were small boys. I had to sit and listen to this chatter: "What yer got?" "'Tinkham Brothers' Tide-mill.' What you got?" "One of Henty's." "What one?" "'The Cat of Boobasts.'" "Aw, that ain't any good. Why didn't yer get 'By England's Aid'?" "'T warn't in." "Yes, 't is, too. Jimmy Goodrich just brought it back." "Well, the teacher won't let yer have it the same day it come in. An' she won't let me give back this one now." "Aw, you're dead easy! Don't yer know how to work that?" "No." "Why, just go down there, an' when she ain't lookin' stick that one you got behind some other books on the shelf. Then go round to that wheel thing near her desk, 'By England's Aid' is on that, an' put it under your arm when she ain't lookin' an' go out quick with it. Then you can come round to-morrer, an' get the other one, an' give it back, an' get your card, an' you can stick back 'By England's Aid' any time. Bring it in under your coat, when you come with it." "Gee, that's great! Have you ever tried it?" "Have I? I've had six books at home to once, an' two more on my cards." "How many cards you got?" "Two. Ain't you?" "No, I ain't got but one." "Didn't they make you take a green card?" "No; what good are they?" "They ain't no good, but the teacher makes yer take one. You can get story books on the white card, but the other is for non-fiction." "What's that?" "Oh, school books, an' a lot of rotten things like that." "What do yer want them for?" "You don't want 'em--excep' a few of 'em. 'The American Boy's Handy Book' is one of 'em. That's all right. Most of 'em are bum. But if you take 'em, it makes a hit with the teacher. They want yer to read 'em. I got a prize last winter for readin' more'n any other feller that comes to the liberry." "Gee, you must have hated to read all them school books." "Aw, I didn't read 'em, you mutt. I jus' took 'em home, an' brought 'em back in a day or two. Say, have you ever read any of Alger's?" "Yup--two of 'em. Eddie Meaghan let me take two of his. You can't get 'em here. I wish you could, though. They're great." "I know. I tried to get 'em off the teacher down stairs. She said they warn't nice. I says yes they are too, for my brother who's studyin' to be a lawyer read 'em. She said she'd give me some book that was better, an' she give me one called 'Brothers of the Air.'" "Was it any good?" "Rotten. But Danny Corrigan, the bootblack, told me about a place, a liberry in back of Schmidt's cigar store where you can get Alger's an' Old Sleuth, and Di'mond Dick, an' Bowery Billy. Gee, the teacher'd have a fit if she sees them--she took one of Old Sleuth's away from Jimmy Goodrich, an' burned it up, an' wrote to his mother about it." "I'm goin' down to the children's room, now. Do you s'pose I can work that gag now, an' get 'By England's Aid'?" "Sure. I'll go down, too, an' show yer how." * * * * * Whereupon these two nuisances departed. Really it seems amazing that children and frivolous persons should be allowed in libraries. As it was four o'clock now, I did hope to be allowed to study in peace for what remained of the afternoon. But the hope was vain, for inside of five minutes two women came into that alcove, that Cave of the Winds, as I may call it. They apparently brought some books with them, and they instantly began to discuss them in a manner that drove every idea from my head. There was nothing left for me to do but to record their talk in order to make my complaint perfectly clear to your honorable board. This was the conversation: "Well, now, this says that Daniel Pingree died at Marblehead in 1703. If that's so, how under the sun, I'd like to know, was he married to Pamela Perkins in 1706?" "Why, it doesn't say that, does it?" "Look for yourself. There it is. And who was Pamela Pingree who died in 1689?" "Oh, she was his great-aunt. I've got her traced all clear enough. Her mother was a Jimson. They lived in the old Jimson homestead in Worcester. Her father was Zachariah Jimson, and he was my ancestor; he was the third cousin of the Earl of Dingleberry. I got into the 'Grand Dames of the Pequot War,' and the 'United Order of American Descendants of Third Cousins of Earls'--both of them, through Zachariah. But that doesn't explain how Molly Bixby, whose mother came over in the Sarah Jane from Bristol, and who settled at Cohasset in 1690, turned up in Philadelphia in 1775 married to an officer in the English army. Then I am nearly distracted about Jabez Whicher. He was an intimate friend of Sir Harry Vane, and I don't see how I can ever get into the 'Descendants of Persons Who Were Acquainted With People Worth While' unless I can find out something about him." "Are you sure there was such a man?" "Of course I am. My mother was a Whicher. I have been all through the town history of Tinkleham, where he came from. We have two samplers at home, worked by his great-granddaughter. And I have hunted in the genealogies of the Diddleback family--he married a Diddleback, my grandfather always said, and in the genealogies of the Fritterleys and the Nynkums, because they were the most prominent families of Tinkleham." "What have you got there?" "This? Oh, this is the town and court records of Footleboro'--it is only three miles from Tinkleham, you know, and I thought I might find out something about him. Let me see, let me see--gracious, what fine print! There, here are the Whichers, lots of them. Andrew, Benjamin, Charles--why, here he is! Victory at last! 'Whicher, Jabez.' That's the man! Now, page 719. Here we are! What's this--'Site of the Old Pump'? Why, what's the matter with this index? It says page 719 clear enough. And, look here, isn't this page 719?" "Why, yes, it seems to be. I don't understand. Oh, this is it--that means paragraph 719. Look under that. There you are. What? 'June 2d, 1659, Jabez Whicher was accused before the justices of stealing sundry fowl and swine from several of the townsfolk, and he did plead that he was guilty, and was fined twelve pence, and sentenced to confinement in the jail for one year, and to be branded with the letter T on his right cheek.' Dear me, is that your ancestor?" "Why no, certainly not; how ridiculous! Another person of the same name, of course." "But it is a very unusual name." "Not at all, Whicher is a common name--I mean, that is--I mean--oh, of course this is some one else." I cannot chronicle their conversation any further. Enough has been given to show you the nature of the annoyances to which I was subjected yesterday. I look to you, gentlemen, for relief. Yours very truly, OBADIAH WURZBERGER. To the Board of Directors of the Blankville Public Library. Gentlemen: I regret to hear from my colleague, Dr. O. Wurzberger, that you have denied his application for relief in the matter of conversation within the library alcoves. Dr. Wurzberger has been unable to work for over a week on account of the disturbing chatter that goes on in the alcove next to his, and yet you reply that conversation has always been allowed there, and that you do not see your way to forbidding it. In order to show you that he is not alone in finding this conversation disturbing, I wish to state that I have been intolerably annoyed. I have been trying to work in the alcove on the other side of the one where the talking occurs. The first volume of my Arabic dictionary (on which I have been engaged continuously since 1867) is soon to appear, and I had hoped to devote a few weeks to a final revision. But how much I was able to accomplish to-day, for instance, you may see from this clack and chatter which took place within eight feet of me. The first to begin, at half-past nine o'clock, were two youths. This is a literal account of what they said: "When is the exam?" "September 22d." "What in thunder are you beginning to grind now for?" "Why, we are going to start for Squid Cove day after to-morrow, and we always stay till after Labor Day. Of course I shan't do any grinding down there; and then when we get back Pete Brown and I are going to take the car and go up to Lake George for the rest of the month--or till the exam, anyhow." "So you've only got to-day and to-morrow?" "That's all." "Gee! What does the course cover?" "English literature from Beowulf to the death of Swinburne." "Know anything about it?" "Not a damned thing." "Know who Beowulf was?" "No,--I thought you were going to put me on to that." "Well, you know who Swinburne was, don't you?" "Sure thing; he wrote 'The Blessed Damozel.'" "Snappy work, old man. You came pretty near it, anyhow. Only, don't put that in the exam. You won't get asked many questions about modern writers, so don't worry over them. Perhaps you'll get one on Tennyson. Don't say he lived in the Craigie House on Brattle street, and wrote 'Evangeline,' will you? Now, we might as well open the book, and take a chance anywhere. Here's Milton. Ever hear of him?" "John Milton, England's greatest epic poet, was the son of a scrivener. He was born in 1608 in Grub Street, London. He lived there till he was sixteen, so it is possible that his youthful eyes may have beheld Shakspeare, his only superior. He--" "Well, well! Where did you get all this?" "Wait a minute. Little did his worthy parents realize that their son was destined to write some of the most charming lyrics, the most powerful sonnets, and the greatest epic in the English language, and to lose his sight in--in--oh! I forget what he lost his sight in. But, say, how is that? Learned it this morning, while I was eating breakfast." "Marvelous! But what was that about Grub Street? This book says Bread Street." "Yes, that's right--Bread Street. Knew it was something about grub." "Well, you better cut all that out about the street. You might get mixed again, and put it Pudding Lane. It doesn't make a hit, anyhow. They would rather have some drool about his influence on literature, or something of that sort. They'll probably ask you to contrast 'L'Allegro' with 'Il Penseroso,' or describe his attitude toward the Presbyterians, or--" "That's all right--I'm there with the goods. 'L'Allegro' describes the care-free life of the happy man--the philosophy falsely attributed to the followers of Epicurus, which is summed up in the maxim, 'Eat, drink and be merry,' more completely described in the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. 'Il Penseroso,' on the other hand, is the thoughtful, sober student by no means to be confounded with the melancholy man, but, on the other hand--oh, I've got that down cold--I can go on that way for three pages." "We'll let Milton alone, then. You seem to know everything to be known about him. How are you on Swift, Addison and that crowd? They always give you three or four questions about them." "I've got to read over what that book says on that period. I am not very sure whether Swift or Defoe wrote the 'Tatler,' and those other things--they're all mixed up in my mind, anyway." "How about Shakspeare?" "Oh, yes. No one knows when he was born or died, what he did, or whether he wrote his plays or not." "You'll get in trouble if you say that. I don't believe you will get any question about him. Here's Jane Austen." "She was the woman that was married three or four times, and ought to have been two or three other times, wasn't she?" "No; you've mixed her with someone else. You ought to be able to discuss her style, and compare it with Charlotte Bronte's. They're dippy about Jane out there, so be sure and read her up. And don't fail to express great admiration for Spenser, if you get a chance." "Was he the fellow who said we were all descended from monkeys?" "No, no. What are you talking about? He was a poet--time of Shakspeare, or about then. You ought to read some of him. Read some of 'The Shepherd's Calendar' and quote from it. You'll hate it, but it will work a great swipe with the examiner." "Well, I'll have to go along now. Mighty good of you to put me on to these points." "Don't mention it." "Let's see--Swift, Jane Austen and Spenser are the ducks you say I ought to look up?" "Yes; and Addison and Marlowe. And say, find out something about Wordsworth. They'll ask about his attitude toward the French Revolution, or some damfool thing like that." "All right, I will. What was his attitude toward it?" "I don't know. I had it all down fine once--when I took that exam. He liked it or else he didn't, I forget which. But say, you want to know a little about Dryden and Pope, too." "Dryden and Pope. All right, I got 'em on my list. I'll be able to write three pages about both of 'em before I go to bed. So long!" "So long!" * * * * * They parted; but the alcove was empty only three minutes. It was then occupied by a man and a woman. The woman began the conversation. "Mrs. Brooks said I certainly ought to consult you, Mr. Wigglesworth. She said your knowledge of local history will be indispensable to us." "Now, I wonder if I understand you correctly. You and the other ladies of your club wish to give a pageant, illustrating past events in the history of the town?" "That's it, exactly. Now, we thought it would be so nice if we could have the visit of Lafayette to Blankville, for one thing. I am to be the Marquise de Lafayette, in a Louis Quinze gown and powdered hair." "Ah, yes. And your husband, I presume, will represent the marquis?" "Daniel? Oh dear, no. Mr. Jones would never take any interest in it. He is so busy, you know. Dr. Peabody will be Lafayette." "I see. Dr. Peabody will be Lafayette. I suppose, of course, that you wish to carry out the pageant with due regard for historical accuracy, correctness of costume, and all that sort of thing?" "Oh, yes. Certainly! That is what will make it so charming, and interesting, and picturesque, and er--er--educational. Dr. Peabody has picked out his costume already. He has spent hours over it. It is all white satin, high-heeled shoes, a jeweled sword, and a powdered wig. We thought we would represent the ball given to the marquis and marchioness by the leading citizens of the town. Then we could have a minuet, you know. Dr. Peabody dances so beautifully." "Ah, yes. I see only one objection to this. From the point of view of historical truth, I mean. Lafayette did not visit Blankville on his first sojourn in this country." "Oh, would that make any difference?" "Well, it would, rather." "I don't see why." "Well, for one thing, when he did come here he was an old man. He was about old enough to be Dr. Peabody's grandfather, I should judge." "Oh!" "Furthermore, there was no ball given by the leading citizens, and no minuet." "But there must have been something!" "There was. The selectmen gathered at the post-house and presented an address of welcome." "Well, why couldn't we have that?" "Undoubtedly you could. But it occurred at about nine o'clock on a rainy night. Lafayette did not alight from his coach, for he was trying to get on to Fairfield that night. He was suffering from a headache, and not only had on a nightcap, but had his head swathed in flannel bandages as well. He merely put out his head for a moment from the coach window, took the address, thanked the selectmen and immediately retired from view. There is no doubt at all about this, for Abner Willcox, the first historian of Blankville, was one of the selectmen." "I don't see how we could have that very well." "It is possible that you could persuade Dr. Peabody to appear in a nightcap and flannel bandages, but from what I know of the young man I should think it extremely doubtful." "Well, it would not be picturesque!" "Possibly not; but it would be historically correct, which is even better." "I do not think so. I do not believe that a pageant should follow the facts of history slavishly. The object is to reproduce in a beautiful manner the events of the past." "Exactly so, Mrs. Jones. I have no objection to the beauty of the spectacle, but if the Historical Association, whose president and representative I am, are to contribute toward the pageant, I must insist upon some regard for historical truth." "Well, what could we have? Are there not some events that would be suitable? Did not General Washington and Mrs. Washington visit our town?" "They did not. They seem to have overlooked it." "Was there never an Indian raid?" "Yes; there was. In 1641." "How would that do?" "I will leave you to judge. The Indians--there were three of them--were all intoxicated. They endeavored to steal a horse, but were discovered by a servant girl of one Enoch Winslow, who owned the horse. She locked them up in the barn until the constable could come and take them to the village jail." "It does not sound very dramatic." "I am no judge of what is or is not dramatic, Mrs. Jones. I merely give you the facts. Possibly you might like to represent the landing of the first settlers." "Yes; that sounds delightful." "It was not a delightful occasion for the settlers. It is a matter of record that on landing they were instantly attacked by mosquitoes in such large numbers that they had to beat a hasty retreat to their ship." "Perhaps we could have that and leave out the mosquitoes,--it would be hard to have them, anyway." "That would be impossible, madam. The modern school of history, of which I am a follower, allows the omission of no detail which makes for accuracy. Perhaps you would not be able to introduce the mosquitoes, though it might be managed. If not, I should insist that the persons representing the settlers beat their arms and hands about, and retreat to the vessel in evident distress." "It does seem hard to find anything. I must go now. I hope you will think it over, Mr. Wigglesworth. Good morning." * * * * * These, gentlemen of the board, were the annoyances I suffered to-day. Can you do nothing to remedy this state of things? Respectfully yours, NICHOLAS JASPER, Ph.D. THE LITERARY ZOO THE LITERARY ZOO "The idea is not exactly original," I complained. "Perhaps not," Mr. Gooch replied, "at least, perhaps it isn't wholly original in a general sense. Still, disregarding what private collectors may have done, I am sure this is the first public library to establish a literary-zoölogical annex on so extensive a scale. We aim at nothing less than completeness." "Oh! that is what you call it--a literary-zoölogical annex? I thought I had heard it called a literary zoo." "We think the other name a little more dignified. That is what it will be termed on the invitations. Let me see; I believe I sent you an advance invitation? They are not to be issued till next Monday." He had sent me one, and I took it from my pocket and read it over again. "The Public Library of East Caraway," it said, "requests the honor of your presence at the opening of its Literary-Zoölogical Annex, Thursday, September 1st, at ten o'clock A.M." "We have to set that hour," Mr. Gooch explained, "because the animals are so much brighter then. In the afternoon they get sleepy, and at four o'clock, which is feeding time, they are noisy and quarrelsome. But come, we will go and inspect them." He rose and led the way out of his office. We went through the delivery room, where a dozen or twenty people were waiting for books, and out through the stacks to the door of the big wooden annex. Mr. Gooch drew a bunch of keys from his pocket and unfastened the padlock. "Of course you understand," said he, as he pushed back the heavy doors, "there are still very many empty cages. Our collection is about one-fifth what we hope to have in two years. It is slow work, and most of the specimens are obtained only after long research and difficult negotiation. Some owners of the most desirable animals hold them at prices absolutely prohibitive to a library like ours. I could tell you of haggling and bargaining that we have done! Well, you would never believe, for instance, what the owner of the horse who brought the news from Ghent to Aix wants for him, and as for Circe's swine--there are only two of them extant now--they might be made of pure gold, those pigs! But we have enough animals to make a respectable showing on opening day, I think, and I believe the collection will be decidedly educational in its effects." Mr. Gooch has a firmer trust in the educational value of many things than I have been able to share, but I looked forward with great interest to this first view of his animals. "This section is devoted to birds," said Mr. Gooch; "that swan floating around on the pool is the one who was once an ugly duckling; the cockatoo on the perch belonged to Count Fosco; and the red bird is, of course, the Kentucky Cardinal. "One moment," I interposed, "how do you classify your animals? Not by authors, I take it?" Mr. Gooch looked a little embarrassed. "Well, no," he admitted; "it was a very painful thing, for as a librarian I naturally wished to do everything according to library methods. But it was absolutely impossible. We tried it, and we had some harrowing experiences." Mr. Gooch wiped his brow with his handkerchief. "The Kipling section was a perfect pandemonium in no time," he went on, "there was a terrific battle between the tiger and one of the elephants. I thought the whole place would be torn to pieces. We got them separated somehow, and we saw then that it would be utterly impossible to classify by authors. In some cases it might be done, but we had to stick to one system or another, so we adopted the usual methods of the zoölogical museums--the birds by themselves, the carnivora together, and so on. It is hardly scholarly, I know, but we had to do it." I could not deny that he had acted for the best. By way of changing the subject I asked him about a small bird of inconspicuous appearance. "It is the nightingale that inspired John Keats," he replied, "he sings sometimes, on moonlit nights. I can tell you, however, that the Ode is better than his song. The raven, sitting there on the pallid bust of Pallas, you will recognize without any difficulty. This other raven--" "Belonged to Barnaby Rudge, I suppose?" "No, _he_ is owned by a private collector. This one flew and croaked ahead of Queen Guinevere, when she fled all night long by glimmering waste and weald, and heard the spirits of the waste and weald moan as she fled. Our ravens are not very cheerful birds. The other large, black bird is Solomon Caw, who lived in Kensington Gardens. There at the edge of the pool stands the Caliph Stork." "And this hen?" I asked. "That is Em'ly, who was once the object of attention from a Virginian. The other is the Little Red Hin." "You will be able to make an addition to your poultry soon," I remarked. "What do you mean?" "Why, one Chantecler." "Will we? I don't know. We don't go in for every animal that becomes notorious through advertising. Do you recognize the canary?" "Little Nell's?" "No, this one hung in the cabin of the brig Flying Scud. Here are the dogs--well penned, you see--I didn't intend that outrageous pun--because some of them are dangerous. This is Wolf, who once belonged to Rip Van Winkle. Many persons have the impression that his name is Snider. The bloodhound is one of those which pursued Eliza across the ice. There are many impostors, but our specimen is undoubtedly genuine." "And the stuffed bloodhound?" I inquired. "He was shot with a bottle of Daffy's Elixir by Micah Clarke. The other stuffed dog, that gigantic black one, is--" "The Hound of the Baskervilles, of course!" I interrupted. "Certainly; there are the marks of Sherlock Holmes's bullets. This fox terrier, who is so lively and amiable, is Montmorency, who once went on a trip with Three Men in a Boat. This stuffed pug, who looks flattened and damaged, is Willoughby, who was killed by having a Fallen Idol tumble on him. The enormous St. Bernard is Porthos, who belonged to Peter Ibbetson, and that collie once had the extreme honor of being chased about in the snow and caught by Mr. Van Bibber." We walked on, down the long passage, with cages on either side. On shelves, here and there, were animals, dead and stuffed. It had been impossible to procure them alive. Mr. Gooch pointed out a fox, who plainly had been cut in two. The stitches where the taxidermist sewed him together were easy to see. It was the fox, so the librarian told me, killed in Spain by the Brigadier Gerard. "Here are the cats," announced Mr. Gooch, "and their characters vary. The Persian kitten, who is chasing her tail, has been celebrated in Rubaiyat. That large Tom is not named Tom, but Peter. He once had some painkiller administered to him by Tom Sawyer. The disagreeable looking creature belonged to Mr. Wilde, the repairer of reputations in 'The King in Yellow.' Perhaps you recognize the other?" "It must be The Black Cat!" I exclaimed. "It is, indeed," said Mr. Gooch. "Before we look at the horses, I want you to come into this little room. The collection here is unique--it cannot be approached by any other in the world. This large cage is intended for the Jabberwock--when we obtain him. In the meanwhile here are some Mome Raths--a sort of green pig who has lost his way, you know; two Borogoves and a Slithy Tove." I gazed with feelings of deep emotion on the Slithy Tove--"something like a badger, something like a lizard, and something like a corkscrew." The two Borogoves, who were both very mimsy indeed, did not belie their reputation for looking like live mops. "This room is admirable! Have you any other animals in it?" "Yes," Mr. Gooch replied, "here is the Pobble Who Has No Toes." "The genuine Pobble?" "Absolutely genuine. The veritable Pobble who went to fish for his Aunt Jobiska's runcible cat with crimson whiskers. Over there you can see the Griffin who once carried a Minor Canon on his back. And beside him--" I saw a large and sulky-looking bird, seated in a chair, in a state of deep dejection and invalidism. His head was tied up, as if he were very ill. "Surely that is The Cockalorum." Mr. Gooch nodded. "Follow me, please. This room--" he opened a door that led into what seemed to be a vast and absolutely empty apartment--"this room contains a Snark, and the Invisible Dog who figured in the Stories of Three Burglars. Beyond are some of the animals who once lived on a certain island with one Dr. Moreau. Would you like to see them?" I shuddered and declined. "Very well, then. We will return to the main building." We did so, and the librarian paused beside a small case. "Here is The Gold Bug. This caterpillar is the one that Sergeant Troy removed on the tip of his sword from the dress of Bathsheba Everdene. And the bees were of the swarm that traveled about with the Bee Man of Orn." The two cages beyond both contained large apes. "Our orang-outangs," remarked Mr. Gooch, "have decidedly bad reputations. The one on the right committed the murders in the Rue Morgue. The other is called Bimi--he belonged to a Frenchman named Bertran. The next cage has a miscellaneous assortment of Bander Log. Oh! here are some horses and cattle. The pony once belonged to Tom Bailey. This donkey was one of those which used to annoy Miss Betsy Trotwood. Priscilla Alden, on her wedding-day, rode on this white bull. The stuffed donkey is the one whose dead body lay once in the pathway of a traveler on a Sentimental Journey. And the other donkey was the foster-mother of the Luck of Roaring Camp." I pointed to some enormous and repulsive-looking crabs that were crawling about on the sand at the edge of a tank, and asked what they were. The librarian told me that they were from the subterranean river over which Allan Quatermain and his friends traveled. "But they," said Mr. Gooch, "are nothing to the fellow in the next tank." I looked where he indicated and saw the most hideous monster it has ever been my bad luck to come across. It was a tremendous crab--the creature of a nightmare. "It is one of those found on the shores of the Future by the traveler who voyaged on the Time Machine." "I think I have had enough of your aquariums," I said. "Just look at this. Here is the Jumping Frog of Calaveras County, whose name was Daniel Webster. He has recovered from his meal of birdshot, and can jump surprisingly. Oh! and over there is the Crocodile who swallowed an alarm clock." Mr. Gooch stopped before a row of elephants who were swaying about, eating hay, and requesting peanuts. I was shown Moti Guj, the mutineer, and the elephant on whose back Private Mulvaney once went for a ride. There was also Zenobia, who fell in love with a country doctor, and Her Ladyship's Elephant. There were a number of tigers, including, of course, the ill-natured Shere Khan. "The one in the second cage," said my guide, "is one of those hunted by Mr. Isaacs, when he was after a tiger-skin to present to Miss Westonhaugh." But perhaps the most interesting of all was one which, so Mr. Gooch told me, had been confined in a cage beside a lady's apartment, to await the opening of a door by a young man. But Mr. Gooch was unable to tell me whether the man opened the door of the Lady or the Tiger. Among the lions I saw the beast which fought with a crocodile in the presence of Leo Vincey and Horace Holly. A black panther was recognizable as Bagheera, and another, of the normal color, was the same animal who conceived a passion for a French soldier in the desert. "Here are some smaller animals," said Mr. Gooch; "do you know this fellow with the sharp nose?" "It is a mongoose, is it not?" "Yes; Rikki-tikki-tavi, himself. And these white mice belonged to Count Fosco, like the cockatoo. This mouse, alone by herself, was the pet of Barty Josselin." We moved on, but I began to look at my watch, for I had a train to catch. "The snakes are an especially fine part of the collection," Mr. Gooch remarked; "do you see this swamp adder? It is the Speckled Band, that gave Sherlock Holmes an uncomfortable five minutes. That little coral snake in the pickle bottle was responsible for the death of one Reingelder. The two rattlesnakes were intimates of Elsie Venner, and in that cage you may see Kaa, the great rock python. But here is a greater prize than any." He indicated an extraordinary and beautiful serpent, at which I looked with the greatest surprise and wonder. "She was a gordian shape of dazzling hue, Vermilion-spotted, golden, green, and blue; Striped like a zebra, freckled like a pard, Eyed like a peacock, and all crimson barred; And full of silver moons, that, as she breathed, Dissolved, or brighter shone, or inter-wreathed Their lustres with the gloomier tapestries-- So rainbow-sided, touched with miseries, She seemed, at once, some penanced lady elf, Some demon's mistress, or the demon's self. Upon her crest she wore a wannish fire Sprinkled with stars, like Ariadne's tiar; Her head was serpent, but ah, bitter-sweet! She had a woman's mouth with all its pearls complete." "That," said the librarian, "I consider the gem of the collection." "It is truly," I replied, "but I think it a profanation to have poor Lamia here." "You don't consider--" began Mr. Gooch. "Yes, I do. And I must hurry now, for it is nearly train time. I am deeply indebted to you for this sight of your animals, and I hope your opening day will be a great success. It is my advice to you not to let any nervous persons see those crabs, though." "Just a minute. We have a rhinoceros here, who got cake-crumbs inside his skin. His name is Strorks, and--" "Thank you very much; but I really must hurry. Good-by." "Good-by." And I went out and left him beside the rhinoceros. THEIR JUST REWARD THEIR JUST REWARD I looked and beheld, and there were a vast number of girls standing in rows. Many of them wore pigtails, and most of them chewed gum. "Who are they?" I asked my guide. And he said: "They are the girls who wrote 'Lovely' or 'Perfectly sweet' or 'Horrid old thing!' on the fly-leaves of library books. Some of them used to put comments on the margins of the pages--such as 'Served him right!' or 'There! you mean old cat!'" "What will happen to them?" I inquired. "They are to stand up to the neck in a lake of ice cream soda for ten years," he answered. "That will not be much of a punishment to them," I suggested. But he told me that I had never tried it, and I could not dispute him. "The ones over there," he remarked, pointing to a detachment of the girls who were chewing gum more vigorously than the others, "are sentenced for fifteen years in the ice cream soda lake, and moreover they will have hot molasses candy dropped on them at intervals. They are the ones who wrote: If my name you wish to see Look on page 93, and then when you had turned to page 93, cursing yourself for a fool as you did it, you only found: If my name you would discover Look upon the inside cover, and so on, and so on, until you were ready to drop from weariness and exasperation. Hang me!" he suddenly exploded, "if I had the say of it, I'd bury 'em alive in cocoanut taffy--I told the Boss so, myself." I agreed with him that they were getting off easy. "A lot of them are named 'Gerty,' too," he added, as though that made matters worse. Then he showed me a great crowd of older people. They were mostly men, though there were one or two women here and there. "These are the annotators," he said, "the people who work off their idiotic opinions on the margins and fly-leaves of books. They dispute the author's statements, call him a liar and abuse him generally. The one on the end used to get all the biographies of Shakespeare he could find and cover every bit of blank paper in them with pencil-writing signed 'A Baconian.' He usually began with the statement: 'The author of this book is a pig-headed fool.' The man next to him believed that the earth is flat, and he aired that theory so extensively with a fountain-pen that he ruined about two hundred dollars' worth of books. They caught him and put him in jail for six months, but he will have to take his medicine here just the same. There are two religious cranks standing just behind him. At least, they were cranks about religion. One of them was an atheist and he used to write blasphemy all over religious books. The other suffered from too much religion. He would jot down texts and pious mottoes in every book he got hold of. He would cross out, or scratch out all the oaths and cuss words in a book; draw a pencil line through any reference to wine, or strong drink, and call especial attention to any passage or phrase he thought improper by scrawling over it. He is tied to the atheist, you notice. The woman in the second row used to write 'How true!' after any passage or sentence that pleased her. She gets only six years. Most of the others will have to keep it up for eight." "Keep what up?" I asked. "Climbing barbed-wire fences," was the answer; "they don't have to hurry, but they must keep moving. They begin to-morrow at half-past seven." We walked down the hill toward a group of infamous looking people. My guide stopped and pointed toward them. "These are snippers, cutters, clippers, gougers and extra-illustrators. They vary all the way from men who cut 'want ads' out of the newspapers in the reading-rooms, to those who go into the alcoves and lift valuable plates by the wet-string method. You see they come from all classes of society--and there are men and women, girls and boys. You notice they are all a little round-shouldered, and they keep glancing suspiciously right and left. This is because they got into the habit of sinking down in their chairs to get behind a newspaper, and watching to see if anyone was looking. There is one man who was interested in heraldry. He extended his operations over five or six libraries, public and private. When they found him out and visited his room it looked like the College of Heralds. He had a couple of years in prison, but here he is now, just the same. The man next to him is--well, no need to mention names,--you recognize him. Famous millionaire and politician. Never went into a library but once in his life. Then he went to see an article in a London newspaper, decided he wanted to keep it, and tore out half the page. Library attendant saw him, called a policeman, and tried to have him arrested. You see, the attendant didn't know who he was." "Did anything come of it?" I asked. "Yes," replied the guide, "there did. The library attendant was discharged. Blank simply told the Board of Trustees that he had been insulted by a whippersnapper who didn't look as if he had ever had a square meal in his life. One or two of the board wanted to investigate, but the majority would have jumped through hoops if Blank had told them to. He is in this section for five years, but he has over eight hundred to work off in other departments. The men on the end of the line, five or six dozen of them, used to cut plates out of the art magazines--a common habit. Woman standing next, used to steal sermons. Man next but one to her was a minister. He was writing a book on the Holy Land, and he cut maps out of every atlas in a library. Said he didn't mean to keep them long." This group interested me, and I wondered what was to be done with them. "You will see in a minute," said the guide; "they are going to begin work right away." As he spoke, a number of officials came down the hill with enormous sheets of sticky fly-paper. These were distributed among the "snippers, cutters, clippers, gougers and extra-illustrators," who thereupon set to work with penknives, cutting small bits out of the fly-paper. In a few minutes the wretched creatures were covered from head to foot with pieces of the horrible stuff; pulling it off one hand to have it stick on the other, getting it in their hair, on their eyebrows, and plastering themselves completely. "That is not very painful," I observed. "No," said my companion, "perhaps not. Gets somewhat monotonous after four years, though. Come over to the end of this valley. I want you to see a dinner party that is taking place." We left the sticky fly-paper folks behind us, and proceeded through the valley. On the side of the hill I noticed a small body of people, mostly men. The guide pointed over his shoulder at them, remarking: "Reformed Spellers." They were busily engaged in clipping one another's ears off with large scissors. There was a sign on the hill beside them. It read: EARS ARE UNNECESSARY. WHY NOT GET RID OF THEM? LEAVE ENUF TO HEAR WITH. DON'T STOP TIL YOU ARE THRU. At the end of the valley there was a large level space. Something like a picnic was going on. People were eating at hundreds of little tables, and some were dancing, or strolling about on the grass. The guide stopped. "The Boss is prouder of this than of anything else in the whole place," he said. "The people who are giving this party are the genealogists. Nearly all women, you notice. These are the folks who have driven librarians to profanity and gray hairs. Some of them wanted ancestors for public and social reasons; some of them for historical or financial purposes; some merely to gratify personal pride or private curiosity. But they all wanted ancestors for one reason or another, and ancestors they _would_ have. For years they charged into libraries demanding ancestors. Over there, you see that big crowd? They are the two hundred and fifty thousand lineal descendants of William Brewster. Next to them are six thousand rightful Lords Baltimore. That vast mob beginning at the big tree, and extending for six miles to the northeast are the John Smith and Pocahontas crowd--some descended from one and some from the other--we haven't got them sorted out yet." "How many of them are there?" I demanded. "According to our best estimates," he replied, "in the neighborhood of eight million at present; but of course we are receiving fresh additions all the time. Thirty-five hundred came in last month. There is no time to count them, however." I laughed at this. "Time!" I exclaimed, "why, you've got eternity!" But he merely waved his hand and went on. "They are the largest crowd here, anyway, with the possible exception of the Mayflower descendants. They have a whole valley to themselves, beyond the second hill. Some say there are twelve million of them, but no one knows. Recently they applied for another valley, for theirs is full. You see it is so thickly planted with family trees that they have to live in deep shade all the time, and it is very damp and chilly. Then there are upwards of three hundred thousand tons of grandfather's clocks, brass warming-pans, cradles, chairs and tables, so they hardly can find standing room." We walked down amongst the people who were giving the picnic. I wanted to see what was the object of this lawn party, for it struck me that it looked more like the Elysian Fields than any other place. I soon discovered my mistake. Near the first group of tables was a sign with the inscription: "Grand Dames of the Pequot War," and at one of the tables sat Mrs. Cornelia Crumpet. I remembered the hours I had spent hunting up two ancestors to enable Mrs. Crumpet to join the Grand Dames. I had found them at last, and so, apparently, had Mrs. Crumpet, for there could be no doubt that the pair of sorry-looking rascals whom she was entertaining at luncheon were the long-lost ancestors. One of them was the most completely soiled individual I have ever seen. He was eating something or other, and he did not waste time with forks or any other implements. The other had finished his meal, and was leaning negligently back in his chair. He was smoking a large pipe, and he had his feet on the table. Mrs. Crumpet wore an expression that showed that her past desire to discover these ancestors was as a passing whim, compared with her present deep, overpowering anxiety to be rid of them. I felt sorry for the poor lady; but she was not alone in her misery. All about her were Grand Dames of the Pequot War, engaged in entertaining their ancestors. Some of the ancestors were more agreeable, some far more distasteful to their descendants than Mrs. Crumpet's pair. None of the Grand Dames seemed to be having what could be called a jolly time. My guide at last led me through the maze of tables and out into the open. "We have a good many Japanese visitors in this section," said he. "They come to get some points from the Americans on ancestor-worship." "What do they say?" I asked him. "They just giggle and go away," he replied. Beyond the genealogists we found a large group of people, who, the guide said, were the persons who borrow books and never return them. The complainants, in their case, were mainly private individuals rather than public libraries. "They are not particularly interesting," remarked the guide, "but their punishment will appeal to you." As we passed them I shuddered to see that they were all engaged in filing catalogue cards in alphabetical order. "How long do they have to keep that up?" was my question, and I was horrified to learn that the terms varied from twenty to thirty-five years. "Why, that is the most damnable thing I ever heard," I said--"the sticky fly-paper folks were nothing to this!" The guide shrugged his shoulders--"It's the rule," he said. The next lot of people we came on were curiously engaged. Long lines of bookshelves were set up about them, and they wandered up and down, forever taking a book from the shelf, only to sigh and put it back again. As we came amongst them I could see the cause of their weariness. The shelves seemed to be lined with the most brilliant looking books in handsome bindings. They were lettered in gold: "Complete Works of Charles Dickens," "Works of Dumas, Edition de Luxe," "Works of Scott," and so on. Yet when I took one of the books in my hand to look at it, it was no book at all, but just a wooden dummy, painted on the back, but absolutely blank everywhere else. They were like the things used by furniture dealers to put in a bookcase to make it look as if it were full of books, or those used on the stage, when a library setting is required. There were many cords of wood, but there was not a real book in any of the cases. I asked one of the sufferers why he was doing this, and he stopped for a moment his patrol, and turned his weary eyes upon me. "We are all alike," he said, indicating his associates. "We are the literary bluffers. Most of us were rich--I was, myself," and he groaned heavily. "We bought books by the yard--expensive ones, always--editions de luxe, limited editions--limited to ten thousand sets and each set numbered, of which this is No. 94," he added in a dull, mechanical fashion, as though he were repeating a lesson. "We were easy marks for all the dealers and agents. Especially illustrated editions, with extra copies of the engravings in a portfolio; bindings in white kid, or any other tomfool nonsense was what we were always looking for. And they saw that we got them. Whispered information that this set of Paul de Kock or Balzac was complete and unexpurgated, and that if we would buy it for $125, the publishers would throw in an extra volume, privately printed, and given away to purchasers, since it was against the law to sell it--this was the sort of bait we always bit at--cheerily! And now here we are!" And he began again his tramp up and down, taking down the wooden dummies and putting them back again, with dolorous groans. I could not stand this dismal spectacle very long, so we hurried on to a crowd of men bent nearly double over desks. They were pale and emaciated, which my guide told me was due to the fact that they had nothing to eat but paper. "They are bibliomaniacs," he exclaimed, "collectors of unopened copies, seekers after misprints, measurers by the millimetre of the height of books. They are kept busy here reading the Seaside novels in paper covers. Next to them are the bibliographers--compilers of lists and counters of fly leaves. They cared more for a list of books than for books themselves, and they searched out unimportant errors in books and rejoiced mightily when they found one. Exactitude was their god, so here we let them split hairs with a razor and dissect the legs of fleas." In a large troop of school children--a few hundred yards beyond, I came across a boy about fifteen years old. I seemed to know him. When he came nearer he proved to have two books tied around his neck. The sickly, yellowish-brown covers of them were disgustingly familiar to me--somebody's geometry and somebody else's algebra. The boy was blubbering when he got up to me, and the sight of him with those noxious books around his neck made me sob aloud. I was still crying when I awoke. THE CROWDED HOUR THE CROWDED HOUR (Scene: The Circulating Department of the----Public Library. Time: Four o'clock of a Saturday afternoon in the winter. Miss Randlett and Miss Vanderpyl, library assistants, are taking in books returned, and issuing others to a group of persons, varying in number from ten to fifty. The group includes men and women, youths and maidens,--a number of high-school students being conspicuous. Edgar, Alfred, and Dan--library pages--going forward and back from the desk to the book-stack, fetching books called for. Sometimes they bring only the call-slips with the word "OUT" stamped thereon. A sign on the desk bears the inscription: "Please look up the call numbers of any books that you wish in the card catalogue. Write the numbers on a call-slip, and present the slip at this desk." About fifty per cent of the people pay no attention whatever to the sign.) A small man in a large ulster, addressing Miss Vanderpyl, in honeyed tones: "Oh, pardon me! Have you 'The Blandishments of Belinda' in this library?" Miss V. (working with both hands at once, charging books, and trying to keep thirty-seven people from becoming impatient): "Er--I--am not sure. Who is the author?" The small man (bowing gracefully, with the tips of his fingers on his heart): "I, who now address you, Madam." Miss V. (after wondering vainly what light this answer throws on her difficulty, and seeking for a reply which shall not seem impertinent): "I really am not sure,--probably we have it. Would you mind looking it up in the catalogue, please?" The small man: "I beg pardon?" Miss V. (indicating): "In the catalogue,--over there." The small man: "Oh, those _horrid_ cards? Dear me! I would never think of entangling myself in their _dreadful_ meshes! I fear I might never survive it, you know. Is there no other way? Ah, red tape! red tape!" (He hovers about for an instant, and then flits away.) A very large woman, with an armful of bundles (depositing six books on the desk with a crash, and heaving a sigh that scatters the call-slips and memoranda right and left): "_There!_ If my arms ain't nearly fallin' off! Say, you oughta give shawlstraps to carry these books with. Now, here's 'The Life Beautiful,'--I wanta return that, and 'The Romance of Two Worlds' an' 'Cometh up as a Flower,'--why, no, it ain't either,--it's 'Family Hymns'--if I ain't gone and picked that up off the settin'-room table and lugged it all this way, an' I _told_ Hattie to keep her hands off them books,--well, I'll put it back in my bag--here, young man! you leave that alone--that don't belong to the liberry. Now, here's this, an' this, an' I want this swapped onto this card, an' this one I want renood an' I wanta get 'Airy, Fairy Lilian' an'--oh, Lord! there goes my macaroni onto the floor,--all smashed to smithereens, I s'pose--no, 't ain't, either,--thank you, young man! Now, if you'll just--" A high school student: "Can I get a copy of 'The Merchant of Venice,' the Rolfe edition?" The very large woman: "Now, just you wait a minute, young feller! One at a time, here!" Miss V. (at last making herself heard): "These books which you want to return should go over to _that_ desk." The very large woman: "What? Oh, Lord, I forgot! That's so, ain't it? Well, I'll take 'em over, but say, jus' let me leave my bundles here a minute--I'll be right back." (She departs, leaving a package of macaroni, two dozen eggs, and a black string bag to help cover the already crowded desk.) An old gentleman (holding a call-slip in both hands, and looking at Miss V. over his eye-glasses): "This says that President Lowell's book on the government of England is 'out.' Do you mean to say that you own only _one_ copy of such an important work?" Edgar: "No, sir, we got two, but they're all out." The old gentleman: "Well, two, then! Why, I daresay you have half a dozen of some trashy novel or other. Why, do you know that the author is President of Harvard University?" Edgar (quite cheerfully): "No, sir." The old gentleman: "Well, he is! Your librarian ought to be told of this. Where is he? I shall enter a complaint." A woman with poppies on her hat: "How do you do, Miss Vanderpyl? You're looking so well! You've _quite_ recovered from that dreadful illness you had last fall? I'm so glad! Now, I've brought you something." (She extends an envelope, which Miss V., who has a book in one hand, and a combination pencil and dating-stamp in the other, takes between the last two fingers of her right hand.) The woman with poppies: "Those are two tickets for the reception that is going to be given this evening by the Grand Dames of the Pequot War. It's _very_ exclusive, and the tickets are awfully hard to get. I felt sure you'd like to go and take a friend. They are not giving the tickets away to everyone, I can assure you. Oh, isn't that 'The Long Roll' over there on that desk? I do so want to read that, and they say there isn't a single copy in, except that one. You'll just let me take it, won't you?" Miss V.: "Why, I'm awfully sorry! That copy is reserved for someone,--she paid for the post-card notice, you know, and we've written her that the book is here. I'm very sorry!" The woman with poppies: "Oh, is that so?" (She reaches over, and deftly withdraws the envelope from Miss V.'s fingers, and replaces it in her card-case. Then she speaks again:) "I am so sorry. Perhaps you won't be able to go to the reception this evening, anyhow. Good afternoon, Miss Vanderpyl, good afternoon." (And she goes out, smiling sweetly.) Two high-school students, at once: "Can I get 'The Merchant of Venice' in the Rolfe edition?" Edgar (to Miss V.): "There's a man here that wants 'The Only Way.'" Miss V.: "Perhaps he means 'A Tale of Two Cities,'--there's a dramatic version--" A thin young man: "Your open-shelf department is a fine idea, fine! I have been able to select my own books; I like such a liberal policy; it shows--" A man with a portfolio: "Look here, miss, here's the best chance you ever see in your life: the complete Speeches of William J. Bryan, bound in purple plush, for six dollars, but we can let you have two copies for nine seventy five, ev'ry lib'ry in the country's got it, and Andrew Carnegie ordered five--" Edgar: "That man says he don't want the 'Tale of Two Cities,'--he thinks the book he's after is 'How To Get In' or something like that." Miss V.: "He means 'One Way Out,'--see if there is a copy in, will you?" A woman: "Just let me take that pencil of yours, a minute?" A man (mopping his brow): "Say, what's this 'open-shelf' business,--d'ye have to find your own books? Well, that's the worst thing I ever saw,--why, at the Boston Public Library they get 'em for you!" A teacher: "Now, I want to return these three, please, and this is to be transferred to Miss Jimson's card,--she'll be here in a minute, and then I want these two renewed, and I want to get 'The Century of the Child,' and if that isn't in I want--" Miss V.: "Return the books at the other desk, please.... Oh, would you mind returning my pencil?" The teacher: "Oh, yes, how stupid of me!" A woman leading a child: "Haf you de Deutsches Balladenbuch?" Miss V.: "Will you look it up in the catalogue, please? Over there ... yes,--look up the author's name, just like a dictionary." A man: "They tell me in the reading-room that you don't have Victoria Cross's novels in the library. Now, I would like to know why that is!" Miss V.: "You will have to ask the librarian about it,--I have nothing to do with buying the books." The man: "That's what they told me in the reading-room, and I tried to see him, but he isn't in. Everyone trying to dodge responsibility, I guess. It makes me sick the way these libraries are run." (Addressing the public generally:) "What right have these library people,--paid public servants, public employees, that's all they are--what right have they to dictate what I shall read? Why, her novels are reviewed in all the best papers on the other side." A voice from the rear of the crowd: "Why don't you do something about it?" The man: "Well, I'm going to, by George!" (He goes away, muttering.) The woman with the child (returning triumphant): "Ha! I haf her! Here she iss!" (She extends the catalogue card, which she has ripped forcibly from its drawer. Miss Wilkins, head cataloguer of the library, who happens to be passing at that moment, sees the incident, and sits down suddenly on a bench, and has recourse to smelling salts.) An imposing personage (who has stalked out from the reference room bearing a Spanish dictionary, and is followed excitedly by Miss Barnard, the reference librarian): "I want to borrow this dictionary until next Tuesday, and that woman in there says I can't, just because it says 'Ref.' on it. _I_ won't hurt it!" Miss V.: "Those books are not allowed to go out of the library." The personage: "Why not?" Miss V.: "They are reference books,--they are to be used in that room only." The personage: "Who made that rule?" Miss V.: "The trustees, I suppose,--it is one of the rules of the library." The personage: "Well, I know Colonel Schwartz!" Miss V.: "Well, if you will get his permission, you may take the book,--I am not allowed to give it out." (The personage lays the book on the desk, from which it is quickly recovered by Miss Barnard, who hastens back to the reference room with it.) The personage: "I've got to get something like that,--I had a letter from Havana this morning, and I want to find out what it means." Miss V.: "Oh, we have some books which will do for that, I think." (To Alfred, the page.) "Get one of those Spanish grammars, Alfred,--be sure and see that there's a vocabulary in it." (Alfred returns presently with a grammar. Miss V. extends her hand for the personage's library card. The personage looks at her helplessly, and finally shakes hands with her, remarking: "Oh, that's all right, miss,--don't mention it!") Miss V. (becoming rather red): "Your card?" The personage (mystified): "Card?" Miss V.: "Yes, your library card,--haven't you one?" The personage: "You can search me!" Miss V.: "Why, I can't give you a book unless you have a card,--haven't you ever borrowed books from the library?" The personage: "Never in my life." (Suddenly exploding.) "Great Scott! I never saw so much red tape in my life." Miss V.: "Well, here--" (And she breaks a library rule herself, by getting the name and address of the personage, and giving him the book, charged on her own card. But she gets rid of him at last.) A man, with a confidential manner (leaning over the desk, and whispering): "Say, lady, I want to get a book." Miss V.: "What book do you want?" The confidential man (pursing up his lips, and nodding his head, as if to tip her the wink): "Why,--er, why,--_that same one_, yer know!" (Miss V. looks at him carefully, but as she cannot distinguish him amongst the forty thousand persons who have entered the library during the past year, she is forced to make further inquiries.) Miss V.: "Which same one? I don't remember--" The confidential man: "Why, _you_ know!" (His manner indicates that it is a delicate personal secret between Miss V. and himself.) "That one I had last summer, yer know." Miss V.: "What was the title?" The confidential man: "The title?--Oh, the _name_ of it?" (He regards Miss V. with the tolerant air of one who is humoring a person whose curiosity verges on the impertinent.) "Hoh! the _name_ of it! I've clean forgot _that_!" (Having thus brushed aside her trivial question, he regards the ceiling and awaits the arrival of the book.) Miss V.: "Who was the author--who wrote it?" (The confidential man is now convinced that Miss V., for some playful reason of her own, is merely trying to keep him at the desk,--that she has the book within reach, but chooses to be kittenish about it. He smiles pleasantly at her.) The confidential man: "Lord, I dunno!--Just let me have it, will yer?" (He is still quite agreeable--as if he were saying: "Come, come, young lady, I know it's very nice to string out this conversation, but, after all, business is business! Let me have my book, for I must be going.") Miss V.: "I'm afraid I can't give it to you unless you can tell me something more about it,--something definite. We have over four hundred thousand books in this library, you know, and if you don't recall the author or the title--" (The confidential man receives the news about the four hundred thousand books with the air of a person listening to a fairy tale. The idea that there are as many books as that in the whole world, to say nothing of one library, strikes him as it would if Miss V. should tell him that she is the rightful Queen of England.) Miss V.: "Can't you tell me about the book,--what it was about, I mean?" The confidential man (beginning to lose his patience, at last): "_About?_ Why, it was about a lot of things!" Miss V.: "Was it fiction--a novel?" The confidential man: "Huh?" Miss V.: "Was it a story? or a book of travels--" (The confidential man gazes at her with oystery eyes. Suddenly he becomes more animated.) The confidential man: "There! It looked just like that!" (He points across the desk at a novel bound in the uniform style of the library bindery, from which six thousand volumes, bound precisely alike, come every year.) Miss V.: "Is that it?" (She hands him the book.) The confidential man: "No, no. Oh, no. Nothin' like it." (He puts it down, and wanders away, thinking that he will come back when there is some intelligent attendant at the desk.) An excited person: "Look here, I've been reading those names on the ceiling, and Longfellow's isn't there! Now, I'd like to know why that is!" Another man: "And they haven't got 'The Appeal to Reason' in the reading room." Another man: "That's because it's Carnegie's library, ain't it, miss?" Miss V.: "No,--he has nothing to do with the library at all." The man: "Why, I thought he run it, don't he?" Miss V.: "He gave the money for the building,--that is all. He has never been in it, nor seen it, so far as I know." The man: "That's all right! I guess you'll find he runs it, just the same." The first man: "I guess so, too." Miss V.: "It must keep him rather busy, don't you think, running all his libraries?" The man: "Oh, he can have people in his pay, all right." (He and his friend gaze about, to see if they can detect any of these secret agents. They both look suspiciously toward Miss Randlett at the return desk.) The very large woman (who has returned to gather up her macaroni, her two dozen eggs, and her black bag, and to have her books charged): "Now, here I am at last! I couldn't get 'Airy, Fairy Lilian,' but here's 'She Walks in Beauty,' an' 'Miss Petticoats,' an' you can put _that_ on my card, an' here's Minnie's card for _that_, an' if you'll just put the eggs in my bag, I'll be all right." TO A SMALL LIBRARY PATRON TO A SMALL LIBRARY PATRON Uncombed, a bit unwashed, with freckled face, And slowly moving jaws--implying gum; A decade's meagre dignity of years Upon your head--your only passports these, All unconcerned you enter--Fairyland! For here dwell monstrous Jinn, and great birds fly Through haunted valleys sown with diamonds. Here Rumpelstiltskin hides his secret name, The talking Flounder comes at beck and call, The King of Lilliput reviews his troops, The Jabberwock and Bandersnatch cavort, And mice and pumpkin change to coach and four. Once more for you is Sherwood's forest green, Where arrows hiss and sword and shield resound; Within these walls shall you and Crusoe stand Aghast, to see the footprint on the beach; From here you start your journey to the Moon, Cruise on the raft with Huckleberry Finn, Or sentinel the mouth of Cudjo's Cave. Here, when your years have doubled, shall you see King Henry and his men on Crispin's Day, The Scottish thane hold parley with the hags, Sir Richard Grenville fight the Spanish fleet, Great Hector and Achilles face to face! This is your Palos whence you turn your prow To sail uncharted seas and find strange isles. Here shall you stand with brave Leonidas; Here watch old Davy Crockett fight and fall. Amid these dusty shelves you'll see the glow When Paul Jones lights his battle-lanterns here; Muskets shall roar and tomahawks shall flash In many deep and dismal forest glades. Here shall you see the Guillotine at work! And mark the Sun of Austerlitz arise. Again, you'll bide the Redcoats on the Hill, Or watch the fight on Cemetery Ridge. But you--with towsled hair and stockings torn, Irreverent and calm and unabashed, Intent on swiping Billy Johnson's cap-- You pass the magic portal unaware, And, careless, saunter into lands of gold. BY-WAYS AND HEDGES BY-WAYS AND HEDGES Fernald got off the trolley car and looked about for Graham House. He did not have to look long, for on the steps of a brick building there were thirty to fifty children waiting for the settlement library to open. That event ought to happen at seven o'clock, and the illuminated dial on the fire engine house, across the street, now indicated five minutes of seven. Fernald went up the steps, through the crowd, and turned to the right into the library room. There was a confusion of noises--two or three nervous giggles and snickers, a loud shuffling of feet, and a few articulate questions. "Where's the teacher?" "Ain't the teacher comin'?" "Mister, you ain't got the lady's job away from her, have yer?" And then, apparently in derogation of the last inquiry: "Shut up, you!" Fernald took off his coat and left it on a bench. Then he unlocked the bookcases, which were instantly surrounded by a hungry swarm. He took the boxes of card records from a shelf, and established himself with rubber stamp, pencil, and pen at the smaller table. A few children already sat about the larger table, looking at the worn copies of "Puck" and "Collier's." A freckled-faced girl, about twelve years old, came behind the table and whispered confidentially into his ear: "Ain't the real teacher comin', Mister?" "Yes," explained Fernald, "she is coming in about half an hour. You can get your books from me until she comes." "Oh!" There was deep, Christian resignation in the tone, and Fernald felt the rebuke. At the main library he was superior in station to the "real teacher," but here his evident inferiority was painful. But he had no time to dwell on it, for there were at least seventeen children, both boys and girls, from ten to sixteen years old standing about him on three sides, and all holding one or two books toward him. He tried to remember Miss Grant's (the "real teacher's") final instructions. "Five cents a week on all books which have been kept out longer than two weeks. Don't give back any cards which have 'Fine due' stamped on them. If any of them ask for new cards, give them a guarantor's slip, tell them to fill it out, get it signed by some grown person whose name is in the directory, and bring it back next week. Look out for Minnie Leboskey, she owes fifteen cents and will try to get her card back. Don't lose your temper with them--they all behave pretty well, but if any of the boys throw snowballs in at the top of the window get Mr. Flaherty, the janitor, to drive them away." He looked into the numerous faces, wondering if the nefarious Minnie Leboskey were there. In the meanwhile he was mechanically taking in the books, stamping the cards, and handing them back. He noticed that his fingers grew very sticky in the process. Most of the children brought another book to the desk with the one they were returning. This was one they had already selected from the shelves, and they now desired to exchange it for the books they handed in. Sometimes their preconcerted schemes were confusing to the substitute librarian, as when, for instance: Theresa Sullivan returned two books, one of which was to be re-issued immediately to Margaret Clancy, while the other was to be charged on the card of Nora Clancy, who was sick with ammonia and so couldn't come to the library that evening. But the book which Margaret returned must be loaned to Theresa--that is, one of them must be, while the other was to be given into the keeping of Mary Finnegan, who, in her turn, brought back three books (two on her own cards, and one on her mother's), and her mother wanted the book that Eustacia O'Brien had returned (there it is, right on the desk in front of you--that's Eustacia over there at the water-cooler), and please, Mary Finnegan herself wants this book that Mary Divver has just brought in on her white card, and on her blue card she wants the one she is going to get (if sundry elbow jabs in the ribs will have any effect) from Agnes Casey, and that ain't nothin' on the cover except a teeny little piece of tolu gum, and Nellie Sullivan wants to know if "Little Women" is in, and if it isn't will you please pick something out for her, Mister, 'cause she has tried four times to get "Little Women," and please give me this book that Lizzie Brady has just brought in on my white card, and this is my blue card, and my father says that this book on electric door-knobs ain't no good and he wants another. After twenty uninterrupted minutes of this sort of thing Fernald (who had once pitched for his class nine and stood calm while the sophomores exploded bunches of cannon crackers around him and sprayed him with a garden hose) felt inclined to jump up and roar: "For God's sake, hold your tongues!" He did nothing of the sort, however, for at that moment a scuffle broke out at the bookcase between two boys. He left his table long enough to separate the boys and tell them to stop fighting or he would put them out. He couldn't help remembering Miss Grant and her associate, Miss French, who, after eight hours in the main library during the day, came over here each Thursday evening for the mere love of it. The chief librarian had visited the place once--a year ago, coming at half-past eight, when all was orderly and quiet. He looked blandly around for a few moments and then went away. A few weeks later he included in his annual report a perfunctory sentence about the faithful service of the two young women. Miss Grant came at about half-past seven, and Fernald turned the desk over to her. "I wish you would get that red-haired girl a 'sad book,'" he remarked; "she has been after me ever since I arrived for a 'sad book.' Have you anything sufficiently mournful?" Miss Grant thought she could supply the need, but Fernald did not learn what the book was, for, as she came back from the shelves, she remarked: "I am afraid that boy needs watching. He comes here only for mischief--never takes any books." She indicated a tall, lank youth of unpleasant countenance, and about fifteen years old. He was sitting at the center table, moving the magazines about, and watching the librarians out of the corners of his eyes. "Have you had trouble with him before?" asked Fernald. "Oh, yes," said Miss Grant, "he tripped me up last Thursday night." "_What?_ Tripped you up?" "Yes--stuck out his foot as I went by the table with an armful of books. I fell and spilled the books all over the floor." "Why, the young pup! Shall I put him out?" "No; he hasn't done anything to-night." At this moment the boy seized a magazine and rapidly slapped three smaller boys over the head with it. One of the little boys began to cry, and Mr. Fernald, remarking, "I guess that will do, won't it?" conducted the perpetrator of the offence to the outer door. As soon as he felt the grip on his collar relax, the boy ran to the middle of the street, and armed himself, not with the gentle snowball, but with four or five of the hard lumps of ice which, mingled with dirt and gravel, covered the street. "Come out from in front of that glass door," the boy shouted, "and let me have a shot at yer! Aw, yer don't dare to! Yer're scared to!" And Mr. Fernald, not being a true sportsman, had to admit to himself that he was scared to. He gazed at the boy a moment or two, and then went slowly inside. The boy set up a derisive yell, showing that the victory remained with the Child of Darkness, as it frequently does. * * * * * His experience of one evening in the settlement library made Fernald anxious to see more of the work. He returned on the following Thursday, but a little later than the time of his first visit. It was half-past seven, and the settlement was in full swing. Loud whoops and yells, combined with noise as of a herd of buffaloes, indicated that a basketball game was in progress in the basement gymnasium. The rumble and crash of a bowling alley were partly drowned by the cries from a back room, where various minor games were being enjoyed. The two library assistants, Miss Grant and Miss French, were dispensing books in the room near the entrance. Fernald had just taken his coat off when Mr. Flaherty, the janitor, beckoned him to the door of the library by the nonchalant method of standing in the door and throwing his chin in the air with a series of short jerks. When Fernald went across the room to find what was wanted, Mr. Flaherty drew him mysteriously into the passage. "Say, I guess yer got into some trouble here last week, didn't yer?" "Trouble? No; I don't remember any trouble." "Didn't yer put a feller out, or somethin'?" "Oh, yes; I forgot. I did put a boy out. What's the matter--is he back again?" "Him? No. The old man's here, though. Been waitin' for an hour. Says he's going to have the law on yer." Fernald became interested. "Where is he?" he inquired. "He's in here. Been settin' by the stove, and now he's gone to sleep. I'll send him out to yer. But don't yer worry about no law. Godfrey! I've had more'n forty of 'em goin' to have the law on me." "I'm not worried," Fernald assured him, and the other departed in search of the wrathful parent. This person soon appeared in the form of a short, stout man with a straggly yellow moustache and a very red face. He had enormously long arms, so that his hat, which he carried in one hand, hung nearly on a level with his ankles. He was blinking at the lights, and was plainly more than half asleep. Also it was evident that the wrath had gone out of him. He looked inquiringly at Fernald, as though the librarian, not he, were seeking the interview. He continued to blink, until at last Fernald had to begin the conversation. "You wanted to see me? Something about your son?" "Oh, yes. Say, he come home, an' he says you put him outer here." "Yes, I did," replied Fernald; "that was a week ago to-night. And if I had been here two weeks ago, and had had a cow-hide, I would have given him a good licking. He needs one." The man looked greatly astonished, but said nothing, so the librarian continued: "I put him out last week for banging three little boys over the heads with a magazine. I had been watching him for ten minutes. He doesn't come in here to play in the gymnasium--which is what he needs--nor to read. He comes into the library every week just to raise the devil. This was the first time he had ever touched a book--when he picked up one to lambaste these boys with it. And two weeks ago he stuck his foot out when one of the women who had charge of the library was passing the table, and she tripped and fell flat, with an armful of books. If he wants to come back and behave, he may, but he can't come otherwise." "He says you choked him," remarked the man. "He lies," said Fernald. "I took him by the collar and put him out--that's all. He was quite able, as soon as I let him go, to run into the street and pick up half a dozen lumps of ice, and swear at me, and dare me to come out from in front of the glass door, so he could have the pleasure of breaking my face without any risk of breaking the glass." "Oh, well," the man returned, "it's all right then. As soon as I see you, I knew it was all right." Fernald was somewhat mystified at the impression he had made. He was not especially tremendous physically, and although he came clad in the armor of righteousness on this particular occasion, he had no delusions about the effect that kind of armor is likely to have on a man of this sort. But the father of the boy went on to explain: "Say, yer know, I didn't know but it was some of these here kids that had been pickin' on him. I wouldn't stand for that, yer know. But soon's I see you I knew it was all right. Say, he ain't got no business here, anyhow. I told him so. I don't want him to come. It ain't a fit place." And the man departed, wishing the librarian good-night. Fernald was thoroughly resigned to the idea of the boy not coming any more, but he could not help smiling at the idea that it wasn't a fit place. Graham House, the pet charity of a large and prosperous church, had been described in the words that its officers might have used of some particularly obnoxious saloon or gambling joint. He imagined how the Rev. Alexander Lambeth, who came over once or twice a week to smile around the place, clerically--how he would look at hearing one of the residents of the neighborhood describe it as not "a fit place" for his son to visit in the evening. Fernald went back into the library room. It was crowded with children, and the two librarians had their hands full. One of them was charging books at the desk; the other was making desperate endeavors to get the books in the cases in some sort of order, to find certain volumes which some of the children wished, to keep the children fairly quiet, and, in general, to regulate the discipline of the place. There were no particularly ill-behaved youngsters--one or two who were pretending to look at the "picture papers" at the table, in reality were merely waiting for a chance to get into a scuffle, or in some other way to "put the liberry on the bum." The children's room at the central library was a quieter place. It was in a much quieter part of the town; the impressive architecture (impressive to children, at least), spacious rooms, and other accessories produced a more typical "library atmosphere." Here, the fact that their feet were on their native heath, the familiar noises of wagons and clanging trolley cars outside, and the hubbub of the gymnasium below, all conspired to make the children a little more restless. Fernald listened to Miss Grant, who sat at the desk with fifteen girls and boys and one or two older persons around her. The older ones were parents or friends who lived in the neighborhood and frequented the library. Miss Grant was discharging the books as they were returned, charging new ones, and incidentally acting as literary adviser and bureau of information. "Is this the one you want--'The Halfback'? It hasn't been discharged--who brought this in? Oh, you did--you're returning it? You mustn't take the card out till I have stamped it. And this is the book you want to take?" A voice from the rear of the crowd: "No, 'm, that's mine." Another voice: "'Tain't neither, teacher, it's mine; she promised it to me last Choosday." The first voice: "Oh, you big--I didn't do nothin' of the sort, teacher!" A man, elbowing his way to the front, and relying on the fascinations of his dyed moustache and hat tilted to one side: "Say, jus' gimme this, will yer?" While Miss Grant is charging the book, he leans over her confidentially: "Say, don't you or that other young lady belong to the Order of the Golden Bazoo? Don't yer? Say, that's too bad--we're goin' to have a little dance to-morrer night at the Red Men's hall. We'd be glad to have yer come. Say, you can come anyway--I can get yer in all right Yer can meet me at the drugstore on the corner, here, and I'll--" A small girl with a red tam-o'shanter, interrupting: "Teacher, me an' Minnie Leboskey just took out these books--this is mine--'The Birds' Chris'mas Carol' and this is Minnie's--'Sarter Resortus' an' Minnie has read it hundreds of times, an' she says she don't want it again, an' please, teacher, this here is a kid's book, an' I don't want it, an' will yer give me somethin' for my mother, she says she's read the one you sent her last week, an' can she take the White House Cook Book, too, on the same card?" A tall and very resolute-looking woman, with three books under her arm: "Have you got 'The Leopard's Spots' in this library? I want my son to read it. He has just finished 'The Clansman,' but he has never read 'The Leopard's Spots.'" Miss Grant: "Why, how old is he?" The resolute-looking woman, presenting cherubic-faced urchin: "This is him--he'll be twelve next April." Miss Grant: "I'm sure we have some other books that he'll like better than 'The Leopard's Spots.' That is not a child's book--there is a copy at the central library, but it is not kept in the children's room. Wouldn't you like--" The resolute-looking woman: "No, I wouldn't. I know what I want. I'm his mother, and I guess I know what's what. You needn't try to dictate to me. Have you got it here or haven't you? That's all I want to know. I can't find it over there on those shelves." Miss Grant: "No; we have not." The woman: "All right, then, I'll go somewhere else--for he's goin' to read that book, whether or no." A young lady, an acquaintance of Miss Grant, who thinks she is doing a little slumming: "Oh, Miss Grant, how do you do? I promised that I'd come and help you, you know. How perfectly delightful this is--only some boys on the corner threw snowballs at Jean and he wouldn't bring the automobile nearer than the next block--he's waiting there now, and he's terribly peeved. Now, what shall I do--shall I sit down here and help you?" A small boy: "Say, teacher, come over here an' make this feller give me my book." Another small boy: "Aw, I ain't got his book." First small boy: "Yes, yer have, too!" The other small boy: "No, I ain't--" His remarks end in a yelp as the elbow of the first boy goes home in his ribs. The two clinch, and fall over a settee, from which they are pulled up and separated by Mr. Fernald. The young lady in search of slumming experiences observes that another small boy is experimenting with a penful of red ink, while Miss Grant's back is turned, to see how far he can flip the ink. The young lady decides she will go and see if her chauffeur is in any further trouble, and she departs hastily, assuring the librarian that she will return soon. She does not reappear, however. A youth, apparently a butcher's assistant, wearing a blue frock, and carrying a slice of meat (for which some family is indignantly waiting): "Say, miss, my grandmother wanted me to get her a book called--say, it had a funny name, it was 'It Didn't Use to Be,' or something like that. Have you got it?" Miss Grant: "Yes, I think so. You go over to Miss French--the lady across the room there, and ask her to see if 'It Never Can Happen Again' is on the shelves." The youth: "That was it, I knew it was something like that." A severe-looking woman, about thirty-eight years old: "Good evening. Have you ever read this book?" She exhibits a copy of "Barrack Room Ballads," and does not wait for Miss Grant to reply. "I have not read the whole of it--I only looked into it here and there. It ought not be in any library--it is full of the most disgusting profanity. You ought to know about it, and you ought to withdraw it from the shelves immediately." Katie Finnegan, aged fifteen, leaning heavily on Miss Grant's left shoulder, and whispering into Miss Grant's left ear: "Teacher, are you goin' to let me walk home with you to-night?" Maggie Burke, aged thirteen, leaning on Miss Grant's right shoulder, and whispering into Miss Grant's right ear: "Say, Miss Grant, I think your hat is just lovely." A serious-faced man, evidently a workingman in his best clothes: "Haven't you got the Encyclopædia Britannica here? I can't find it on those tables." A girl of twelve: "Teacher, I want Tolstoi's 'Little Women.'" A deeply irritated man: "Look here, I'd like to know what this means! D'ye see this postal? Well, look there: 'Please return Evans's 'A Sailor's Log' which is charged on your card. The fine amounts to twenty cents.' I ain't never had no book outer this place!" Miss Grant: "Perhaps you took it from the central library, or one of the other branches?" The irritated one: "No, I didn't neither. I ain't never had no books outer no library!" His companion, another man, with views on capital and labor: "Aw, it's just one of Carnegie's games to get money out of yer." The irritated man: "Well, he won't get no money outer me." Miss Grant, who has read the name "John Smith" on the other side of the post-card: "Perhaps this came to you by mistake--it was meant for someone else of the same name, maybe." The irritated man: "Well, you can keep it--I don't want it, anyhow." He and his friend depart, much pleased at having baffled Carnegie this time. Miss French, the other librarian, laying a very dirty slip of paper on Miss Grant's desk: "What do you suppose this means? There is a boy waiting for the book, but we haven't anything about shingling--I've looked in the catalogue twice." Miss Grant read the note, which ran: "plees give barer why not shingel the house and oblige Mrs. coffey 2795 forth street." Miss Grant: "Oh, yes--just write her a note, will you, Miss French? Tell her we haven't any of Frank Danby's books. She wants 'Let the Roof Fall In,' you know." A small boy: "Have you any books about explosions? Mother says she wants one about the Pan-American explosion." Another small boy: "Haven't you got the Mutt and Jeff book yet? When are you goin' to get it?" A small girl: "Please, can I keep this book on how to bring up parrots till next week?" The janitor of the building: "Closin' time in five minutes, Miss." Two women: "Oh, what's he putting out the lights for? I haven't found a book yet!" MULCH MULCH Toward spring the books on gardening begin to come into the library, and I look them over with fresh enthusiasm. Mrs. Bunkum is no longer my favorite author in this field, but her sister writers are very dear to my heart. There is Mrs. Reginald Creasus. I seize her latest volume with the eagerness of a child. I like to see the pictures of the new marble bench which she has imported from Pompeii and set up at the end of the Rose Walk. Then she usually has a new sculptured group--a fountain, or some other little trifle by Rodin or St. Gaudens, which looks so well amidst the Japanese iris. After gazing at these illustrations for a while, I go home and observe the red woodshed, and I declare it looks altogether different. It is wonderful how discontented with your lot you can get by reading Mrs. Creasus's books on gardening. Sometimes I think that I am making a mistake in voting the Republican ticket, year after year. Mr. Debs may be right, after all. This year Mrs. Creasus calls her volume "The Simple Garden." From it I gathered that anyone who knows anything at all will not pass the summer without an Abyssinian hibiscus unfolding its lovely blooms somewhere on the place. They are absolutely necessary, in fact. You have to be careful with them--when you plant them, that is. The fertilizer which they require has to be fetched from the island of Ascension. I calculated that by going without food or clothes for two years I could just about buy and support one of them. I wish Mrs. Creasus would write a book about the complicated garden. I should like to see it. Just as I had bought a garden hose, along came Mrs. Creasus's book, remarking casually that it is well to have the whole garden laid out with underground water-pipes, placed at least six feet below the surface, to avoid frost. Two or three private reservoirs are, of course, an essential. I wonder what Mrs. Creasus keeps in these reservoirs. I suppose it is champagne, but I wouldn't like to ask. Scotch gardeners are going out, she says. The Chinese are the only kind, although they demand--and get--forty to fifty dollars more per month than the others. I made a note to employ no more Scotchmen, and then I looked to see what she had to say about sweet-peas. She was ever so enthusiastic about them. No family should be without sweet-peas, she said. You dig a trench, and you put in four or five different kinds of dressing, separated by layers of earth, and then you plant the peas, and as fast as they come up you keep discouraging them by putting more earth and things on top, and then you build a trellis for them to run on, sinking the posts not less than four feet, and there you are. Only--you must mulch them. Mulch! That struck me as a pleasant word. It had a nice squshy sound about it. I thought it would be so nice, on hot evenings, to go around mulching and mulching. I went to the dictionary to look it up and find out what it meant, but just at that minute General Bumpus came into my office. He was interested to see Mrs. Creasus's book lying open on my desk--he is president of the library board, and he is another gardening enthusiast. "Going to have some sweet-peas?" he asked, observing the picture. "Yes," I replied, "I thought I would." "Well," he said, "that's all right. Only you must mulch them good and plenty." "Is that necessary?" I inquired, looking him straight in the eye. "Oh, yes--absolutely." Before we could say anything more about it, someone came in to tell the general that Mrs. Bumpus said the horses were uneasy, and that she wished he would come out. He went away, and then Miss Davis came to get me--there was a man in the reading-room, who wanted me to give him permission to break some rule or other. So I forgot all about the sweet-peas until I was on my way home. Then I stepped in at the seed shop to get the peas. Philip Morris was there, buying a lawn-mower. He had paid for it, and was starting toward the door, when he saw me. "Hullo! Buying sweet-peas?" "Yes. Have you ever raised any?" "Tried to. One year they didn't come up at all, and another year the cut-worms got 'em, and another they just sort of sickened and died. But I didn't mulch 'em--that was the trouble." "Well, why _didn't_ you mulch 'em?" "Why, I would have, but--George! that's my car! Good-night!" And he rushed out. I did not like to display my ignorance before the dealer, so I merely took the peas and started up the street with them. Inside of two minutes I met Miss Abernathy. She has a marvelous flower-garden. I stopped her and told her of my purchase. "Oh, you're going to have sweet-peas! I envy you. I've never been very successful with them." "What happened to them?" "I don't know. They seemed to get disappointed--they need very rich soil." "Maybe," I suggested tentatively, "you didn't mulch 'em." "Oh, that doesn't make any difference." "Doesn't it?" "Not a bit." And she bade me good evening, and passed on. When I reached home and had eaten dinner, I told Jane that I was going to plant some sweet-peas. I described the process to her. She was very much interested, and offered to help. I dug the trench and put in the peas. I thought some bushes might do instead of Mrs. Creasus's trellis. "Now," I said, "all they need is to be mulched." "To be what?" asked Jane. "Mulched. You always have to mulch sweet-peas; that is, Mrs. Creasus and General Bumpus, and Philip Morris say so, but Miss Abernathy thinks not." "How do you do it?" "Jane, do you mean to say that you do not know how to mulch?" "Of course I don't. How do you do it?" I felt in my pocket. "Can't you roll me a cigarette? There's some paper and tobacco in the house--on my desk." Jane went dutifully away, and when she returned, I lighted the cigarette. "There," I said, "they're all mulched--I did it with this hoe." "Is _that_ what it means?" * * * * * All this happened in April, and now it is August, and the sweet-peas still maintain a somewhat sullen appearance. I wonder if Miss Abernathy was right, after all. Perhaps I did wrong to mulch them,--at least, so savagely. A BOOKMAN'S ARMORY A BOOKMAN'S ARMORY Mr. Anthony Gooch, brother of the well-known librarian of East Caraway, owns one of the choicest private libraries it has ever been my good luck to see. I spent an evening with him recently and inspected his books. Mr. Anthony Gooch was highly amused at the account of his brother's literary zoölogical annex, which I wrote for the "Boston Transcript." "Percival has tacked that barn on his library," he said, "and filled it with all those absurd animals--not one-half of which are genuine. Poor Percy! The dealers have pulled his leg unmercifully. And he spends all his evenings and holidays shoveling hay to those preposterous elephants, and wandering around in that menagerie--I'm afraid the old fellow is getting dotty. Why, what do you think he told me last week?" I had not the least idea, and I said so. "Why, he is negotiating with a London dealer for the oysters mentioned in 'The Walrus and the Carpenter'! You remember them, of course?" And Mr. Gooch, leaning back in his chair and waving the stem of his long pipe in time with the beat of Lewis Carroll's exquisite verses, repeated: "'But four young Oysters hurried up, All eager for the treat: Their coats were brushed, their faces washed, Their shoes were clean and neat-- And this was odd, because, you know, They hadn't any feet. "'Four other Oysters followed them, And yet another four,--' "I told him that he was being cheated, for the poem distinctly states (see stanza 18, lines 5 and 6) that the Walrus and the Carpenter ate all the oysters. But he replied that perhaps these were some of the Elder Oysters, for in the poem it says: "'The eldest Oyster looked at him, But never a word he said: The eldest Oyster winked his eye, And shook his heavy head-- Meaning to say he did not choose To leave the oyster-bed.'" "It is useless to argue with him," continued Mr. Anthony Gooch, "and if his trustees will let him spend the money, I suppose I ought not mind. Still I do hate to think of the name of Gooch being connected with a fraudulent collection." I agreed that it was distressing, and remarked that I thought it curious that one brother should be a collector and the other have no interest in that kind of hobby. For Anthony Gooch's library is remarkably free from all items that appeal merely to the bibliomaniac. His books are beautiful, but they are to be read, and Mr. Gooch has read them. He owns no unopened copies, nor any such nonsense. My host smiled. "Well, of course I do not go in for fakes, and I certainly do not care to act as keeper to a lot of crocodiles, and flounders, and jackdaws, and other livestock, as Percival does. Still, my little museum--you have never seen it? Come this way." Mr. Gooch led me to a door at the right of the fireplace, between two bookcases. He opened the door, turned on the lights, and we entered a small room. I exclaimed with astonishment, for we stood in an arsenal--or, rather, an armory. The walls were lined with weapons. Stands of arms were in the corners, and a number of flags and banners hung from the ceiling. The weapons were of every variety and period. Old spears and battleaxes, stone hatchets, bows and sheaves of arrows--these were mingled with modern rifles, automatic pistols, and bowie knives. Daggers of a dozen patterns hung on the walls or lay on the tables. One or two ancient pieces of artillery--culverins and drakes, I fancy--were in a corner, together with a quick-firing gun from some modern man-of-war. "These," said Mr. Gooch, looking me in the eye, very seriously, "are absolutely genuine--every one of them. And not one but has figured in some scene in literature. I have spent fifteen years in assembling this collection, and--well, I prize it highly. That is one of the reasons why it disgusts me to have my brother Percival waste his time over that ridiculous aggregation of animals, so many of which are sheer frauds. It tends to bring my collection of weapons under suspicion, and I do not need to say that I cannot bear to have anyone doubt the absolute authenticity of my treasures. If you feel any doubt about them I wish you would say so now, and we will go back to the library." But I told Mr. Gooch that suspicion was a trait foreign to my nature. "Long ago," I said, "I took the advice of the White Queen in 'Through the Looking-Glass,' and practised believing impossible things for half an hour every day. Like her, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." "Then I have no hesitation in showing you my collection," remarked Mr. Gooch. "Look at this sword--it is the envenomed rapier of Laertes, dipped in an unction which he bought of a mountebank. Be careful not to touch the point--I think some of the poison lingers on it now, and it has already been responsible for two--no, three deaths. You remember that Hamlet used it to kill the king, after it had wounded both him and Laertes in the fencing bout." I put down the rapier gingerly, and inquired about a flint-lock pistol which lay on the table near at hand. Mr. Gooch told me that it was the weapon owned by Madame Defarge, through which she came to her death. "And what was probably worse, from her point of view," added the collector, "she was thus unavoidably detained from her front seat at the guillotine, on that day of days, when she hoped to see the Marquis of Evremond lose his life. Someone has said that the whole French Revolution seemed to have been brought about so Madame Defarge might have her revenge--so, of course, the blow was a severe one to her. This pistol exploded while she was struggling with Miss Pross in the empty house, and the explosion killed her and deafened Miss Pross. Even then the tumbril was carrying Sydney Carton to the guillotine." "Your relics are rather gruesome," I observed. "I pride myself that there are more horrors comprised in this small room than in most of its size," said Mr. Gooch. "But they are not all connected with tragedies. Here, for instance, is the mace which the White Knight used in his battle with the Red Knight, and I have also--up there on the wall--his sword--made of a lath, you see. Still, weapons are naturally instruments of crime, or, at any rate, of violence, and some very notorious murders are commemorated here." He picked up a long, blood-stained knife. "With this," he said, "Markheim killed the shopkeeper. One of the very finest murders in literature, in my opinion. You recall the circumstances: Christmas Day, the two men alone in the shop--" "I do indeed," I replied, willing to show my familiarity with Stevenson's wonderful tale, "and I remember the terrible moments that followed--the murderer alone with the dead man, the silence, the ticking of the clocks, the man who knocked on the outside door, and all the rest of it." Mr. Gooch replaced the knife and drew my attention to a shield and a long spear which hung on the wall. These, he said, belonged to a "Fuzzy-Wuzzy"--they were a "coffin-'eaded shield an' shovel-spear," the implements for a 'appy day with Fuzzy on the rush. Near them hung an old flint-lock musket. It was a perfect wreck--the stock worm-eaten, and the lock and barrel covered with rust. "It was never used to kill anything more dangerous than a squirrel or a wild goose," said my host; "yet its original owner was nearly arrested for carrying it on one occasion. Surely you can guess who that owner was." I guessed Rip Van Winkle, and Mr. Gooch said that was correct. "It doesn't improve a musket or a man to lie out on the mountains day and night for twenty years," he added. Then he showed me Othello's sword of Spain, "of the ice-brook's temper," with which the Moor smote himself, as once in Aleppo he smote a malignant and a turban'd Turk. "This box," said Mr. Gooch, "contains one of my greatest prizes--nothing less than the dagger which led Macbeth to Duncan's sleeping chamber--" "But it was an 'air-drawn dagger'--it was imaginary," I began. And then the old story about the man and his mongoose recurred to me, and I stopped. I looked in the box, and, of course, found it empty. The collector of weapons laughed and seemed greatly delighted with his little joke. I judged that he was accustomed to play it on every visitor. "What is this bottle? It seems out of place here." "Not at all," replied Mr. Gooch; "it is Falstaff's pocket pistol. This cane once belonged to Mr. Wackford Squeers, but it was used on only one occasion, and then against the owner himself, by Nicholas Nickleby." He then showed me a sword broken near the hilt. "It was Henry Esmond's. He broke it when he denied the Prince, and heaped reproaches upon him for going dangling after Beatrix, when the opportunity of his life was at hand. Little the Prince cared! He deigned, a few moments later, to cross swords with Esmond, and Frank used this broken blade to strike up their weapons. It was such a condescension! Esmond knew the Prince to be worthless, and he had just been insulting him in every way he could think. But he was of the sacred blood of the Stuarts--enough for any Jacobite. You will find a full account of it in the novel, if you care to refresh your memory. This is a cigar-cutter's knife--a curious weapon, isn't it? Carmen used it to slash the face of the woman she quarreled with--she cut a neat St. Andrew's cross on her enemy's cheek. That led to her subsequent arrest by Don José, the escape at which he connived, and all the train of events which followed. This is the knife that Don José killed Carmen with." "How did you get all these weapons?" I asked him. "Oh, in various ways. It requires a great deal of patience, some money, and some imagination. I traveled for three or four years, but since then I have had to employ agents. Some authors would almost fill this room by themselves, if I cared to collect all the weapons for which they are responsible. See all those spears and broadswords--that is my Sir Thomas Malory corner. Walter Scott covered almost that entire wall--spears, claymores, daggers, battleaxes and pistols. I could not get the sword of Saladin--that, like some other valuable pieces, is owned by a Virtuoso, of whom you may have heard. This sword was used by Rudolf Rassendyll--he employed it in freeing the prisoner of Zenda. A revolver would have been quicker, probably, but not half so picturesque. I was glad to get that sword, but I soon had to stop buying the mass of cutlery that came into the market shortly after it was forged. I could have filled my house with it. Poor weapons they were, mostly. See those rapiers over the fireplace--they are of the finest temper, and came from Alexandre Dumas. The one on the left, of somewhat the same shape, was used by A Gentleman of France. That spear was carried by the squire of Sir Nigel Loring when he rode into Spain at the head of the White Company. There is the good broadsword of young Lochinvar, and this is the sword with which Horatius held the bridge in the brave days of old." "The one with which he killed the Lord of Luna?' "Precisely. How does it go?" "'Through teeth, and skull, and helmet, So fierce a thrust he sped The good sword stood a handbreadth out Behind the Tuscan's head.' "No one does anything like that now. Those were the days!" "They were, certainly. The two swords next to Horatius's--who owned them?" "Lord Barnard and Little Musgrave. You know the old ballad?" And Mr. Gooch quoted again: "'The first stroke little Musgrave struck, He hurt Lord Barnard sore; The next stroke that Lord Barnard struck, Little Musgrave never struck more.'" Then the collector showed me a rifle of modern pattern. "The regular rifle of the British army twenty years ago. This belonged to Private Stanley Ortheris. He took it with him that day he went out to look for a native deserter who was making things unpleasant by night for the old regiment. Ortheris had his two companions with him, and while they waited Learoyd told the story 'On Greenhow Hill.' At its end, the deserter appeared and Ortheris ended his career at long range. 'Mayhap there was a lass tewed up wi' him, too,' opined Learoyd." I nodded, for I liked the story well. "Here is the pistol," said Mr. Gooch, "that was found by the side of Mr. John Oakhurst, gambler, who struck a streak of bad luck on the 23d of November, 1850, and handed in his checks on the 7th of December, 1850." Then I asked about a hammer that lay among other objects on the table. "It is not a weapon, exactly," admitted Mr. Gooch, "but it belonged to Adam Bede. He used it in making a coffin, the night his father was drowned. The musket is the one with which Carver Doone shot Lorna in the church. That peculiar machine in the corner? It doesn't look earthly, does it? As a matter of fact, it is a heat ray apparatus which was employed by the Martians in the War of the Worlds." We moved around the room slowly, Mr. Gooch sometimes pointing to weapons which hung high above our heads, and sometimes taking them down so I could examine them closely. In this more satisfactory fashion he now showed me a remarkable axe. The haft was of rhinoceros horn, wound with copper wire. This handle was over a yard long. The head was of steel. As I had suspected, the axe had belonged to Umslopogaas, the Zulu warrior. With this axe he had terrorized the French cook Alphonse, and with it he fought his great fight at the head of the stairway. It had numerous nicks in the horn handle--each nick representing a man killed with it in battle. "Here is another knife which figured in a murder," said Mr. Gooch. "Tess killed Alec D'Urberville with it. And this is the unsheathed sword that lay between Tristram and Iseult." On a shelf in a corner was a piece of some red stone. I inquired about it, remarking that it did not seem to belong to the collection, "No, it does not," Mr. Gooch agreed, "but it served very effectively on a certain occasion. That was the meeting of the scientific society on the Stanislow. If I can quote correctly, the incident is described as follows: "'Then Peleg Jones of Angels raised a point of order, when A chunk of old red sandstone took him in the abdomen-- And he smiled a kind of sickly smile, and curled up on the floor, And the subsequent proceedings interested him no more.' "I remember now," said I, "it was the beginning of a serious battle." "Yes; events followed fast and furious-- "'In less time than it takes to tell it, every member did engage In a battle with those remnants of a paleozoic age, And the way they hurled those fossils in their anger was a sin-- Till the skull of an old mammoth caved the head of Thompson in.'" Mr. Gooch then showed me Bob Acres' dueling pistols. They gave no signs of having been used, and it is doubtful if they would have been very deadly at forty paces--Bob's favorite fighting distance. Here was also the cross-bow, with which the Ancient Mariner killed the albatross. I found, hanging from a hook, two curious weapons which resembled light darts, or spears. My host reached them down for me, and I looked them over closely. Their composition was apparent--the halves of a pair of scissors had been tied to two wands. "They look much more harmless than Bob Acres' pistols, do they not? As a matter of fact, they were used in a duel, and one of them killed its man. The duel was fought in Edinburgh Castle between two French prisoners,--one of whom was St. Ives." "And the lasso that hangs above them?" "Employed in a tournament by a Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court,--until Merlin stole it. This is the sword with which Sergeant Troy displayed his dexterity before Bathsheba Everdene. And this blade you have heard celebrated in song a good many times--it is the Sword of Bunker Hill. And with this Miles Standish stirred the posset. Here is the revolver with which Sherlock Holmes used to amuse himself in his room on Baker street--sitting in his chair, and making a patriotic 'V. R.' in bullet pocks on the wall, much to the annoyance of the good Dr. Watson. These daggers are rather odd--four of them, and two swords, you see. They came from 'The Critic' where the two Nieces draw their two daggers to strike Whiskerandos, the two Uncles point their swords at Whiskerandos, and he draws two daggers and holds them to the two Nieces' bosoms. So they would have stood forever, if the Beefeater hadn't come in and commanded them, in the queen's name, to drop their weapons. There's the Beefeater's halberd, too. Doubtless you've wondered at this naval gun. It fired the shot that did the business for the 'Haliotis,' and gave Kipling a chance to air his knowledge of engines and machinery in general. You can read about it in 'The Devil and the Deep Sea' This sword is in its sheath, you see, 'His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.' "I've plenty of swords--here's the one that pierced the Master of Ballantrae, when he and his brother fought together by candle-light. This pretty little pair of scissors? They helped in the Rape of the Lock. This stone-headed club is my oldest specimen--it belonged to Ab--you know his story, no doubt? And the big axe was carried by the Executioner when the Queen of Hearts went about shouting, 'Off with their heads!'" "That is a beautiful dagger," I remarked. "Isn't it? It was brought by some Italian twins to a village in Missouri, where it had an exciting history. Look at the finger prints in blood on the handle. They betrayed a murderer, and he was denounced in court by Pudd'nhead Wilson." We had finished our circuit of the room, and it was time for me to bid Mr. Gooch good-night. I started to thank him for showing me his collection, but he interrupted. "Oh, that's all right; but," he added, laying his hand on my shoulder in a paternal fashion, "one last request: if you write it up for the 'Transcript,' don't try to be funny! I do hate to have books, and libraries, and literature treated flippantly. Now, I read your column--oh! very often--" "No!" "Yes, I do," he persisted, "I _really_ do! After I have finished the Genealogical Department, of course, and all those other fellows--The Bee-Keeper, and The Bishop Afloat, and all the rest of 'em, I read The Librarian _frequently_." I blushed slightly. "And I wish," continued my host, "that you would treat my collection seriously." "Mr. Gooch," I promised, "I will be as solemn as--as--oh, as your brother's annual reports. I can say no more than that." And we shook hands on it. INDEX A. L. A. Book List, 21. �neid, The, indigestible to a goat, 127. Amanda (colored cook of librarian), 27. Ancestor Worship, _see_ Genealogists. Animals, library classification of, impossible, 170. Authors, Young, hectic vanity of, 8. Baxter Public Library, _see_ Ezra Beesly Free Public Library. Bibliomaniacs (in Hell), 205. Bilkins, Benj. S., heroic sacrifice of, 57. Bird, Peculiar, observed by Mrs. Mayo, 65. Bluffers, Literary, 202. Books, One Hundred Best, 117 _et seq._ Boston Athenæum, Catalogue of, 64. Boston Public Library, superior advantages of, 217. Bunkum, Martha Matilda, 19. Bureau of Education, _see_ Education, Bureau of. Carnegie, Andrew, 227. ----, baffled again, 261. Cat, Runcible, 177. Children, Good, Parentage of, 48. Children's Librarian, nefarious plot against a, 141. Clam, Little Neck, how preferred, 116. Colonel, Retired, favorite remark of, 43. Congress, Library of, _see_ Library of Congress. Crumpet, Mrs. Cornelia, 11. ----, Miss Hortense, 83. Culture Clubs, _see_ Twenty Minute Culture Club. Cut Worms, 270. Darkness, Child of, 244. Dufunnie, Prof. Samuel McK., 3. Dying Maiden, _see_ Maiden, Dying. Dyspepsia, Goat gets, 127. Education, Bureau of, _see_ Bureau of Education. Extra-illustrators, _see_ Snippers. Ezra Beesly Free Public Library, 63, 109. Falstaff, Sir John, as football center, 93. Family Ghost, _see_ Ghost, Family. Fassett, Prof. H. B., distressing adventures of, 110 _et seq._ Fat Woman, 211. Feet, Pigs', not in public library, 85. Flippancy of librarian, deplored, 300. Fool Girls, punishment of, 187. Football, Literary, 90. Frugles, Prof. Milo P., 9. ----, exposed, 15. Fuddy-dud, great work of Dr. Wurzberger on, 131. Genealogists, 145, 196. Ghost, Family, anæmic condition of, 50. Gibbons, Cardinal, mistaken for historian, 135. Goat, Wild, _see_ Wild Goat. Good Children, _see_ Children, Good. Grand Dames of Pequot War, 199, 214. Gray Hairs, cause of, to librarians, _see_ Genealogists. Gustafsen, Dr. Oscar, 6. ----, dryness of article by, 7. Heroine, Learned, 46. ----, Modern, dissolute habits of, 47. Highball, Scotch, as a life-saver, 36. Historians, Scientific, 9, 158 _et seq._ Impossible Things, practice in believing, 282. Indexes of gardening books, 25. Interest Gauge, retail price of, 8. Jasper, Dr. Nicholas, sufferings of, 149 _et seq._ "Jerusalem Delivered," weight of, 125-26. Johnson, William DeGrift, cap belonging to, 232. Kookle, Reginald (A.B., Cornell), 68. Larkin, Miss Fritilla Lee, 13. Learned Heroine, _see_ Heroine, Learned. Library of Congress, _see_ Congress, Library of. "Librarian at Play," price of, _see_ Any Book Dealer. Librarian, _see also_ Children's Librarian. Literary Bluffers, _see_ Bluffers, Literary. Little Neck Clam, _see_ Clam, Little Neck. Lobster Trap, how to sink a, 125-26. Macbeth, unsuccessful golf match of, 97. Maiden, Dying, 44. Mayo, Mrs. Humphrey (_née_ Gookin), 65 _et seq._ Mike, love of, 33. Misers, clinking habits of, 58. Mongoose, story about a, 287. Mysterious Man, 222. Nature Books, child pretends fondness for, 14. Nuisances, _see_ Genealogists. "Old Librarian's Almanack," 63. One Hundred Best Books, _see_ Books, One Hundred Best. Oyster, Eldest, conservative temperament of, 279. Patterson, Miss Pansy, 63. Pests, _see_ Genealogists. Pigs' Feet, _see_ Feet, Pigs'. Ponsonby, Perks & Co. (publishers), 20. Q, 23. Reformed Spellers, _see_ Spellers, Reformed. Retired Colonel, _see_ Colonel, Retired. Runcible Cat, _see_ Cat, Runcible. Russia, source of supply of villains, 55. Scientific Historians, _see_ Historians, Scientific. Scotch Highball, _see_ Highball, Scotch. Simpleton, Village, 57. Simplified Spellers, _see_ Spellers, Reformed. Slithy Tove, _see_ Tove, Slithy. Smith, Mrs. Pomfret, 76. ----, comes back, 80. Snippers, post-mortem treatment of, 191. Spellers, Reformed, eternal punishment of, 195. Sunflowers, how deep to sow seeds of, 22 _et seq._ "Teacher," _see_ Children's Librarian. Telephones, slowness of, when librarian is waiting in rain, 29. Thorns in the Flesh, _see_ Genealogists. Tove, Slithy, 176. Twenty Minute Culture Club, 12. Utilitarianism, 76. Vanhoff, Amos, 64 _et seq._ Village Simpleton, _see_ Simpleton, Village. Villains, degeneracy of, 52. Who's Who in America, 63. Wild Goat, _see_ Goat, Wild. Wurzberger, Dr. Obadiah, soul-racking experience of, 131 _et seq._ Xenophon's Anabasis (perhaps in box), 119. Young Crab, how to broil a, 123. Zanesville, Ohio (birthplace of "excited person"), 227. TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: --Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected. 
21630	----	BIBLIOMANIA IN THE MIDDLE AGES BY F. SOMNER MERRYWEATHER _With an Introduction by_ CHARLES ORR Librarian of Case Library NEW YORK MEYER BROTHERS & COMPANY 1900 Copyright, 1900 By Meyer Bros. & Co. Louis Weiss & Co. Printers.... 118 Fulton Street ... New York Bibliomania in the Middle Ages OR SKETCHES OF BOOKWORMS, COLLECTORS, BIBLE STUDENTS, SCRIBES AND ILLUMINATORS _From the Anglo-Saxon and Norman Periods to the Introduction of Printing into England, with Anecdotes Illustrating the History of the Monastic Libraries of Great Britain in the Olden Time by_ F. Somner Merryweather, _with an Introduction by_ Charles Orr, _Librarian of Case Library._ INTRODUCTION. In every century for more than two thousand years, many men have owed their chief enjoyment of life to books. The bibliomaniac of today had his prototype in ancient Rome, where book collecting was fashionable as early as the first century of the Christian era. Four centuries earlier there was an active trade in books at Athens, then the center of the book production of the world. This center of literary activity shifted to Alexandria during the third century B. C. through the patronage of Ptolemy Soter, the founder of the Alexandrian Museum, and of his son, Ptolemy Philadelphus; and later to Rome, where it remained for many centuries, and where bibliophiles and bibliomaniacs were gradually evolved, and from whence in time other countries were invaded. For the purposes of the present work the middle ages cover the period beginning with the seventh century and ending with the time of the invention of printing, or about seven hundred years, though they are more accurately bounded by the years 500 and 1500 A. D. It matters little, however, since there is no attempt at chronological arrangement. About the middle of the present century there began to be a disposition to grant to mediæval times their proper place in the history of the preservation and dissemination of books, and Merryweather's _Bibliomania in the Middle Ages_ was one of the earliest works in English devoted to the subject. Previous to that time, those ten centuries lying between the fall of the Roman Empire and the revival of learning were generally referred to as the Dark Ages, and historians and other writers were wont to treat them as having been without learning or scholarship of any kind. Even Mr. Hallam,[1] with all that judicial temperament and patient research to which we owe so much, could find no good to say of the Church or its institutions, characterizing the early university as the abode of "indigent vagabonds withdrawn from usual labor," and all monks as positive enemies of learning. The gloomy survey of Mr. Hallam, clouded no doubt by his antipathy to all things ecclesiastical, served, however, to arouse the interest of the period, which led to other studies with different results, and later writers were able to discern below the surface of religious fanaticism and superstition so characteristic of those centuries, much of interest in the history of literature; to show that every age produced learned and inquisitive men by whom books were highly prized and industriously collected for their own sakes; in short, to rescue the period from the stigma of absolute illiteracy. If the reader cares to pursue the subject further, after going through the fervid defense of the love of books in the middle ages, of which this is the introduction, he will find outside of its chapters abundant evidence that the production and care of books was a matter of great concern. In the pages of _Mores Catholici; or Ages of Faith_, by Mr. Kenelm Digby,[2] or of _The Dark Ages_, by Dr. S. R. Maitland,[3] or of that great work of recent years, _Books and their Makers during the Middle Ages_, by Mr. George Haven Putnam,[4] he will see vivid and interesting portraits of a great multitude of mediæval worthies who were almost lifelong lovers of learning and books, and zealous laborers in preserving, increasing and transmitting them. And though little of the mass that has come down to us was worthy of preservation on its own account as literature, it is exceedingly interesting as a record of centuries of industry in the face of such difficulties that to workers of a later period might have seemed insurmountable. A further fact worthy of mention is that book production was from the art point of view fully abreast of the other arts during the period, as must be apparent to any one who examines the collections in some of the libraries of Europe. Much of this beauty was wrought for the love of the art itself. In the earlier centuries religious institutions absorbed nearly all the social intellectual movements as well as the possession of material riches and land. Kings and princes were occupied with distant wars which impoverished them and deprived literature and art of that patronage accorded to it in later times. There is occasional mention, however, of wealthy laymen, whose religious zeal induced them to give large sums of money for the copying and ornamentation of books; and there were in the abbeys and convents lay brothers whose fervent spirits, burning with poetical imagination, sought in these monastic retreats and the labor of writing, redemption from their past sins. These men of faith were happy to consecrate their whole existence to the ornamentation of a single sacred book, dedicated to the community, which gave them in exchange the necessaries of life. The labor of transcribing was held, in the monasteries, to be a full equivalent of manual labor in the field. The rule of St. Ferreol, written in the sixth century, says that, "He who does not turn up the earth with the plough ought to write the parchment with his fingers." Mention has been made of the difficulties under which books were produced; and this is a matter which we who enjoy the conveniences of modern writing and printing can little understand. The hardships of the _scriptorium_ were greatest, of course, in winter. There were no fires in the often damp and ill-lighted cells, and the cold in some of the parts of Europe where books were produced must have been very severe. Parchment, the material generally used for writing upon after the seventh century, was at some periods so scarce that copyists were compelled to resort to the expedient of effacing the writing on old and less esteemed manuscripts.[5] The form of writing was stiff and regular and therefore exceedingly slow and irksome. In some of the monasteries the _scriptorium_ was at least at a later period, conducted more as a matter of commerce, and making of books became in time very profitable. The Church continued to hold the keys of knowledge and to control the means of productions; but the cloistered cell, where the monk or the layman, who had a penance to work off for a grave sin, had worked in solitude, gave way to the apartment specially set aside, where many persons could work together, usually under the direction of a _librarius_ or chief scribe. In the more carefully constructed monasteries this apartment was so placed as to adjoin the calefactory, which allowed the introduction of hot air, when needed. The seriousness with which the business of copying was considered is well illustrated by the consecration of the _scriptorium_ which was often done in words which may be thus translated: "Vouchsafe, O Lord, to bless this work-room of thy servants, that all which they write therein may be comprehended by their intelligence and realized in their work." While the work of the scribes was largely that of copying the scriptures, gospels, and books of devotion required for the service of the church, there was a considerable trade in books of a more secular kind. Particularly was this so in England. The large measure of attention given to the production of books of legends and romances was a distinguishing feature of the literature of England at least three centuries previous to the invention of printing. At about the twelfth century and after, there was a very large production and sale of books under such headings as chronicles, satires, sermons, works of science and medicine, treatises on style, prose romances and epics in verse. Of course a large proportion of these were written in or translated from the Latin, the former indicating a pretty general knowledge of that language among those who could buy or read books at all. That this familiarity with the Latin tongue was not confined to any particular country is abundantly shown by various authorities. Mr. Merryweather, whose book, as has been intimated, is only a defense of bibliomania itself as it actually existed in the middle ages, gives the reader but scant information as to processes of book-making at that time. But thanks to the painstaking research of others, these details are now a part of the general knowledge of the development of the book. The following, taken from Mr. Theodore De Vinne's _Invention of Printing_, will, we think, be found interesting: "The size most in fashion was that now known as the demy folio, of which the leaf is about ten inches wide and fifteen inches long, but smaller sizes were often made. The space to be occupied by the written text was mapped out with faint lines, so that the writer could keep his letters on a line, at even distance from each other and within the prescribed margin. Each letter was carefully drawn, and filled in or painted with repeated touches of the pen. With good taste, black ink was most frequently selected for the text; red ink was used only for the more prominent words, and the catch-letters, then known as the rubricated letters. Sometimes texts were written in blue, green, purple, gold or silver inks, but it was soon discovered that texts in bright color were not so readable as texts in black. "When the copyist had finished his sheet he passed it to the designer, who sketched the border, pictures and initials. The sheet was then given to the illuminator, who painted it. The ornamentation of a mediæval book of the first class is beyond description by words or by wood cuts. Every inch of space was used. Its broad margins were filled with quaint ornaments, sometimes of high merit, admirably painted in vivid colors. Grotesque initials, which, with their flourishes, often spanned the full height of the page, or broad bands of floriated tracery that occupied its entire width, were the only indications of changes of chapter or subject. In printer's phrase the composition was "close-up and solid" to the extreme degree of compactness. The uncommonly free use of red ink for the smaller initials was not altogether a matter of taste; if the page had been written entirely in black ink it would have been unreadable through its blackness. This nicety in writing consumed much time, but the mediæval copyist was seldom governed by considerations of time or expense. It was of little consequence whether the book he transcribed would be finished in one or in ten years. It was required only that he should keep at his work steadily and do his best. His skill is more to be commended than his taste. Many of his initials and borders were outrageously inappropriate for the text for which they were designed. The gravest truths were hedged in the most childish conceits. Angels, butterflies, goblins, clowns, birds, snails and monkeys, sometimes in artistic, but much oftener in grotesque and sometimes in highly offensive positions are to be found in the illuminated borders of copies of the gospels and writings of the fathers. "The book was bound by the forwarder, who sewed the leaves and put them in a cover of leather or velvet; by the finisher, who ornamented the cover with gilding and enamel. The illustration of book binding, published by Amman in his Book of Trades, puts before us many of the implements still in use. The forwarder, with his customary apron of leather, is in the foreground, making use of a plow-knife for trimming the edges of a book. The lying press, which rests obliquely against the block before him, contains a book that has received the operation of backing-up from a queer shaped hammer lying upon the floor. The workman at the end of the room is sewing together the sections of a book, for sewing was properly regarded as a man's work, and a scientific operation altogether beyond the capacity of the raw seamstress. The work of the finisher is not represented, but the brushes, the burnishers, the sprinklers and the wheel-shaped gilding tools hanging against the wall leave us no doubt as to their use. There is an air of antiquity about everything connected with this bookbindery which suggests the thought that its tools and usages are much older than those of printing. Chevillier says that seventeen professional bookbinders found regular employment in making up books for the University of Paris, as early as 1292. Wherever books were produced in quantities, bookbinding was set apart as a business distinct from that of copying. "The poor students who copied books for their own use were also obliged to bind them, which they did in a simple but efficient manner by sewing together the folded sheets, attaching them to narrow parchment bands, the ends of which were made to pass through a cover of stout parchment at the joint near the back. The ends of the bands were then pasted down under the stiffening sheet of the cover, and the book was pressed. Sometimes the cover was made flexible by the omission of the stiffening sheet; sometimes the edges of the leaves were protected by flexible and overhanging flaps which were made to project over the covers; or by the insertion in the covers of stout leather strings with which the two covers were tied together. Ornamentation was entirely neglected, for a book of this character was made for use and not for show. These methods of binding were mostly applied to small books intended for the pocket; the workmanship was rough, but the binding was strong and serviceable." The book of Mr. Merryweather, here reprinted, is thought worthy of preservation in a series designed for the library of the booklover. Its publication followed shortly after that of the works of Digby and Maitland, but shows much original research and familiarity with early authorities; and it is much more than either of these, or of any book with which we are acquainted, a plea in defense of bibliomania in the middle ages. Indeed the charm of the book may be said to rest largely upon the earnestness with which he takes up his self-imposed task. One may fancy that after all he found it not an easy one; in fact his "Conclusion" is a kind of apology for not having made out a better case. But this he believes he has proven, "that with all their superstition, with all their ignorance, their blindness to philosophic light--the monks of old were hearty lovers of books; that they encouraged learning, fostered it, and transcribed repeatedly the books which they had rescued from the destruction of war and time; and so kindly cherished and husbanded them as intellectual food for posterity. Such being the case, let our hearts look charitably upon them; and whilst we pity them for their superstition, or blame them for their pious frauds, love them as brother men and workers in the mines of literature." Of the author himself little can be learned. A diligent search revealed little more than the entry in the London directory which, in various years from 1840 to 1850, gives his occupation as that of bookseller, at 14 King Street, Holborn. Indeed this is shown by the imprint of the title-page of _Bibliomania_, which was published in 1849. He published during the same year _Dies Dominicæ_, and in 1850 _Glimmerings in the Dark_, and _Lives and Anecdotes of Misers_. The latter has been immortalized by Charles Dickens as one of the books bought at the bookseller's shop by Boffin, the Golden Dustman, and which was read to him by the redoubtable Silas Wegg during Sunday evenings at "Boffin's Bower."[6] FOOTNOTES: [1] Hallam, Henry. "Introduction to the Literature of Europe." 4 vols. London. [2] Digby, Kenelm. "Mores Catholici; or Ages of Faith." 3 vols. London, 1848. [3] Maitland, S. R. "The Dark Ages; a Series of Essays Intended to Illustrate the State of Religion and Literature in the Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries." London, 1845. [4] Putnam, George Haven. "Books and their Makers during the Middle Ages; a Study of the Conditions of the Production and Distribution of Literature from the Fall of the Roman Empire to the Close of the Seventeenth Century." [5] Lacroix, Paul. "Arts of the Middle Ages." Our author, however (_vide_ page 58, _note_), quotes the accounts of the Church of Norwich to show that parchments sold late in the thirteenth century at about 1 d. per sheet; but Putnam and other writers state that up to that time it was a very costly commodity. [6] Dickens's Mutual Friend. CHAPTER I. _Introductory Remarks--Monachism--Book Destroyers--Effects of the Reformation on Monkish Learning, etc._ In recent times, in spite of all those outcries which have been so repeatedly raised against the illiterate state of the dark ages, many and valuable efforts have been made towards a just elucidation of those monkish days. These labors have produced evidence of what few anticipated, and some even now deny, viz., that here and there great glimmerings of learning are perceivable; and although debased, and often barbarous too, they were not quite so bad as historians have usually proclaimed them. It may surprise some, however, that an attempt should be made to prove that, in the olden time in "merrie Englande," a passion which Dibdin has christened Bibliomania, existed then, and that there were many cloistered bibliophiles as warm and enthusiastic in book collecting as the Doctor himself. But I must here crave the patience of the reader, and ask him to refrain from denouncing what he may deem a rash and futile attempt, till he has perused the volume and thought well upon the many facts contained therein. I am aware that many of these facts are known to all, but some, I believe, are familiar only to the antiquary--the lover of musty parchments and the cobwebbed chronicles of a monastic age. I have endeavored to bring these facts together--to connect and string them into a continuous narrative, and to extract from them some light to guide us in forming an opinion on the state of literature in those ages of darkness and obscurity; and here let it be understood that I merely wish to give a fact as history records it. I will not commence by saying the Middle Ages were dark and miserably ignorant, and search for some poor isolated circumstance to prove it; I will not affirm that this was pre-eminently the age in which real piety flourished and literature was fondly cherished, and strive to find all those facts which show its learning, purposely neglecting those which display its unlettered ignorance: nor let it be deemed ostentation when I say that the literary anecdotes and bookish memoranda now submitted to the reader have been taken, where such a course was practicable, from the original sources, and the references to the authorities from whence they are derived have been personally consulted and compared. That the learning of the Middle Ages has been carelessly represented there can be little doubt: our finest writers in the paths of history have employed their pens in denouncing it; some have allowed difference of opinion as regards ecclesiastical policy to influence their conclusions; and because the poor scribes were monks, the most licentious principles, the most dismal ignorance and the most repulsive crimes have been attributed to them. If the monks deserved such reproaches from posterity, they have received no quarter; if they possessed virtues as christians, and honorable sentiments as men, they have met with no reward in the praise or respect of this liberal age: they were monks! superstitious priests and followers of Rome! What good could come of them? It cannot be denied that there were crimes perpetrated by men aspiring to a state of holy sanctity; there are instances to be met with of priests violating the rules of decorum and morality; of monks revelling in the dissipating pleasures of sensual enjoyments, and of nuns whose frail humanity could not maintain the purity of their virgin vows. But these instances are too rare to warrant the slanders and scurrility that historians have heaped upon them. And when we talk of the sensuality of the monks, of their gross indulgences and corporeal ease, we surely do so without discrimination; for when we speak of the middle ages thus, our thoughts are dwelling on the sixteenth century, its mocking piety and superstitious absurdity; but in the olden time of monastic rule, before monachism had burst its ancient boundaries, there was surely nothing physically attractive in the austere and dull monotony of a cloistered life. Look at the monk; mark his hard, dry studies, and his midnight prayers, his painful fasting and mortifying of the flesh; what can we find in this to tempt the epicure or the lover of indolence and sloth? They were fanatics, blind and credulous--I grant it. They read gross legends, and put faith in traditionary lies--I grant it; but do not say, for history will not prove it, that in the middle ages the monks were wine bibbers and slothful gluttons. But let not the Protestant reader be too hastily shocked. I am not defending the monastic system, or the corruption of the cloister--far from it. I would see the usefulness of man made manifest to the world; but the measure of my faith teaches charity and forgiveness, and I can find in the functions of the monk much that must have been useful in those dark days of feudal tyranny and lordly despotism. We much mistake the influence of the monks by mistaking their position; we regard them as a class, but forget from whence they sprang; there was nothing aristocratic about them, as their constituent parts sufficiently testify; they were, perhaps, the best representatives of the people that could be named, being derived from all classes of society. Thus Offa, the Saxon king, and Cædman, the rustic herdsman, were both monks. These are examples by no means rare, and could easily be multiplied. Such being the case, could not the monks more readily feel and sympathize with all, and more clearly discern the frailties of their brother man, and by kind admonition or stern reproof, mellow down the ferocity of a Saxon nature, or the proud heart of a Norman tyrant? But our object is not to analyze the social influence of Monachism in the middle ages: much might be said against it, and many evils traced to the sad workings of its evil spirit, but still withal something may be said in favor of it, and those who regard its influence in _those days alone_ may find more to admire and defend than they expected, or their Protestant prejudices like to own. But, leaving these things, I have only to deal with such remains as relate to the love of books in those times. I would show the means then in existence of acquiring knowledge, the scarcity or plentitude of books, the extent of their libraries, and the rules regulating them; and bring forward those facts which tend to display the general routine of a literary monk, or the prevalence of Bibliomania in those days. It is well known that the great national and private libraries of Europe possess immense collections of manuscripts, which were produced and transcribed in the monasteries, during the middle ages, thousands there are in the rich alcoves of the Vatican at Rome, unknown save to a choice and favored few; thousands there are in the royal library of France, and thousands too reposing on the dusty shelves of the Bodleian and Cottonian libraries in England; and yet, these numbers are but a small portion--a mere relic--of the intellectual productions of a past and obscure age.[7] The barbarians, who so frequently convulsed the more civilized portions of Europe, found a morbid pleasure in destroying those works which bore evidence to the mental superiority of their enemies. In England, the Saxons, the Danes, and the Normans were each successively the destroyers of literary productions. The Saxon Chronicle, that invaluable repository of the events of so many years, bears ample testimony to numerous instances of the loss of libraries and works of art, from fire, or by the malice of designing foes. At some periods, so general was this destruction, so unquenchable the rapacity of those who caused it, that instead of feeling surprised at the manuscripts of those ages being so few and scanty, we have cause rather to wonder that so many have been preserved. For even the numbers which escaped the hands of the early and unlettered barbarians met with an equally ignominious fate from those for whom it would be impossible to hold up the darkness of their age as a plausible excuse for the commission of this egregious folly. These men over whose sad deeds the bibliophile sighs with mournful regret, were those who carried out the Reformation, so glorious in its results; but the righteousness of the means by which those results were effected are very equivocal indeed. When men form themselves into a faction and strive for the accomplishment of one purpose, criminal deeds are perpetrated with impunity, which, individually they would blush and scorn to do; they feel no direct responsibility, no personal restraint; and, such as possess fierce passions, under the cloak of an organized body, give them vent and gratification; and those whose better feelings lead them to contemplate upon these things content themselves with the conclusion, that out of evil cometh good. The noble art of printing was unable, with all its rapid movements, to rescue from destruction the treasures of the monkish age; the advocates of the Reformation eagerly sought for and as eagerly destroyed those old popish volumes, doubtless there was much folly, much exaggerated superstition pervading them; but there was also some truth, a few facts worth knowing, and perhaps a little true piety also, and it would have been no difficult matter to have discriminated between the good and the bad. But the careless grants of a licentious monarch conferred a monastery on a court favorite or political partizan without one thought for the preservation of its contents. It is true a few years after the dissolution of these houses, the industrious Leland was appointed to search and rummage over their libraries and to preserve any relic worthy of such an honor; but it was too late, less learned hands had rifled those parchment collections long ago, mutilated their finest volumes by cutting out with childish pleasure the illuminations with which they were adorned; tearing off the bindings for the gold claps which protected the treasures within,[8] and chopping up huge folios as fuel for their blazing hearths, and immense collections were sold as waste paper. Bale, a strenuous opponent of the monks, thus deplores the loss of their books: "Never had we bene offended for the losse of our lybraryes beynge so many in nombre and in so desolate places for the moste parte, yf the chief monuments and moste notable workes of our excellent wryters had bene reserved, yf there had bene in every shyre of Englande but one solemyne library to the preservacyon of those noble workers, and preferrement of good learnynges in oure posteryte it had bene yet somewhat. But to destroye all without consyderacion, is and wyll be unto Englande for ever a most horryble infamy amonge the grave senyours of other nations. A grete nombre of them whych purchased those superstycyose mansyons reserved of those lybrarye bokes, some to serve theyr jakes, some to scoure theyr candelstyckes, and some to rubbe theyr bootes; some they solde to the grossers and sope sellers, and some they sent over see to the bokebynders,[9] not in small nombre, but at tymes _whole shippes ful_. I know a merchant man, whyche shall at thys tyme be nameless, that boughte the contents of two noble lybraryes for xl shyllyngs pryce, a shame is it to be spoken. Thys stuffe hathe he occupyed in the stide of graye paper for the space of more than these ten years, and yet hath store ynough for as many years to come. A prodyguose example is this, and to be abhorred of all men who love theyr natyon as they shoulde do."[10] However pernicious the Roman religion might have been in its practice, it argues little to the honor of the reformers to have used such means as this to effect its cure; had they merely destroyed those productions connected with the controversies of the day, we might perhaps have excused it, on the score of party feeling; but those who were commissioned to visit the public libraries of the kingdom were often men of prejudiced intellects and shortsighted wisdom, and it frequently happened that an ignorant and excited mob became the executioners of whole collections.[11] It would be impossible now to estimate the loss. Manuscripts of ancient and classic date would in their hands receive no more respect than some dry husky folio on ecclesiastical policy; indeed, they often destroyed the works of their own party through sheer ignorance. In a letter sent by Dr. Cox to William Paget, Secretary, he writes that the proclamation for burning books had been the occasion of much hurt. "For New Testaments and Bibles (not condemned by proclamation) have been burned, and that, out of parish churches and good men's houses. They have burned innumerable of the king's majesties books concerning our religion lately set forth."[12] The ignorant thus delighted to destroy that which they did not understand, and the factional spirit of the more enlightened would not allow them to make one effort for the preservation of those valuable relics of early English literature, which crowded the shelves of the monastic libraries; the sign of the cross, the use of red letters on the title page, the illuminations representing saints, or the diagrams and circles of a mathematical nature, were at all times deemed sufficient evidence of their popish origin and fitness for the flames.[13] When we consider the immense number of MSS. thus destroyed, we cannot help suspecting that, if they had been carefully preserved and examined, many valuable and original records would have been discovered. The catalogues of old monastic establishments, although containing a great proportion of works on divine and ecclesiastical learning, testify that the monks did not confine their studies exclusively to legendary tales or superstitious missals, but that they also cultivated a taste for classical and general learning. Doubtless, in the ruin of the sixteenth century, many original works of monkish authors perished, and the splendor of the transcript rendered it still more liable to destruction; but I confess, as old Fuller quaintly says, that "there were many volumes full fraught with superstition which, notwithstanding, might be useful to learned men, except any will deny apothecaries the privilege of keeping poison in their shops, when they can make antidotes of them. But besides this, what beautiful bibles! Rare fathers! Subtle schoolmen! Useful historians! Ancient! Middle! Modern! What painful comments were here amongst them! What monuments of mathematics all massacred together!"[14] More than a cart load of manuscripts were taken away from Merton College and destroyed, and a vast number from the Baliol and New Colleges, Oxford;[15] but these instances might be infinitely multiplied, so terrible were those intemperate outrages. All this tends to enforce upon us the necessity of using considerable caution in forming an opinion of the nature and extent of learning prevalent during those ages which preceded the discovery of the art of printing. FOOTNOTES: [7] The sad page in the Annals of Literary History recording the destruction of books and MSS. fully prove this assertion. In France, in the year 1790, 4,194,000 volumes were burnt belonging to the suppressed monasteries, about 25,000 of these were manuscripts. [8] "About this time (Feb. 25, 1550) the Council book mentions the king's sending a letter for the purging his library at Westminster. The persons are not named, but the business was to cull out all superstitious books, as missals, legends, and such like, and to deliver the garniture of the books, being either gold or silver, to Sir Anthony Aucher. These books were many of them plated with gold and silver and curiously embossed. This, as far as we can collect, was the superstition that destroyed them. Here avarice had a very thin disguise, and the courtiers discovered of what spirit they were to a remarkable degree."--Collier's Eccle. History, vol. ii. p. 307. [9] Any one who can inspect a library of ancient books will find proof of this. A collection of vellum scraps which I have derived from these sources are very exciting to a bibliomaniac, a choice line so abruptly broken, a monkish or classical verse so cruelly mutilated! render an inspection of this odd collection, a tantalizing amusement. [10] Bale's Leland's Laboryouse Journey, Preface. [11] The works of the Schoolmen, viz.: of P. Lombard, T. Aquinas, Scotus and his followers and critics also, and such that had popish scholars in them they cast out of all college libraries and private studies.--_Wood's Hist. Oxon._, vol. i. b. 1. p. 108. And "least their impiety and foolishness in this act should be further wanting, they brought it to pass that certain rude young men should carry this great spoil of books about the city on biers, which being so done, to set them down in the common market place, and then burn them, to the sorrow of many, as well as of the Protestants as of the other party. This was by them styled 'the funeral of Scotus the Scotists.' So that at this time and all this king's reign was seldom seen anything in the universities but books of poetry, grammar, idle songs, and frivolous stuff."--_Ibid., Wood is referring to the reign of Edward VI._ [12] Wood's Hist. Oxon, b. i. p. 81. [13] "Gutch has printed in his 'Collectiana' an order from the Queen's commissioners to destroy all capes, vestments, albes, missals, books, crosses, and such other idolatrous and superstitious monuments whatsoever.'--vol. ii. p. 280." [14] Fuller's Church History, b. vi. p. 335. [15] Wood's Oxon, vol. i. b. i. p. 107 CHAPTER II. _Duties of the monkish librarian.--Rules of the library.--Lending books.--Books allowed the monks for private reading.--Ridiculous signs for books.--How the libraries were supported.--A monkish blessing on books, etc._ In this chapter I shall proceed to inquire into the duties of the monkish amanuensis, and show by what laws and regulations the monastic libraries were governed. The monotonous habits of a cloistered bibliophile will, perhaps, appear dry and fastidious, but still it is curious and interesting to observe how carefully the monks regarded their vellum tomes, how indefatigably they worked to increase their stores, and how eagerly they sought for books. But besides being regarded as a literary curiosity, the subject derives importance by the light it throws on the state of learning in those dark and "bookless" days, and the illustrations gleaned in this way fully compensate for the tediousness of the research. As a bibliophile it is somewhat pleasing to trace a deep book passion growing up in the barrenness of the cloister, and to find in some cowled monk a bibliomaniac as warm and enthusiastic in his way as the renowned "Atticus," or the noble Roxburghe, of more recent times. It is true we can draw no comparison between the result of their respective labors. The hundreds, which in the old time were deemed a respectable if not an extensive collection, would look insignificant beside the ostentatious array of modern libraries. But the very tenor of a monastic life compelled the monk to seek the sweet yet silent companionship of books; the rules of his order and the regulations of his fraternity enforced the strictest silence in the execution of his daily and never-ceasing duties. Attending mass, singing psalms, and midnight prayers, were succeeded by mass, psalms and prayers in one long undeviating round of yearly obligations; the hours intervening between these holy exercises were dull and tediously insupportable if unoccupied. Conversation forbidden, secular amusements denounced, yet idleness reproached, what could the poor monk seek as a relief in this distress but the friendly book; the willing and obedient companion of every one doomed to lonely hours and dismal solitude? The pride and glory of a monastery was a well stored library, which was committed to the care of the armarian, and with him rested all the responsibility of its preservation. According to the Consuetudines Canonicorum Regularium, it was his duty to have all the books of the monastery in his keeping catalogued and separately marked with their proper names.[16] Some of these old catalogues have been preserved, and, viewed as bibliographical remains of the middle ages, are of considerable importance; indeed, we cannot form a correct idea of the literature of those remote times without them. Many productions of authors are recorded in these brief catalogues whose former existence is only known to us by these means. There is one circumstance in connexion with them that must not be forgotten: instead of enumerating all the works which each volume contained, they merely specified the first, so that a catalogue of fifty or a hundred volumes might probably have contained nearly double that number of distinct works. I have seen MSS. formerly belonging to monasteries, which have been catalogued in this way, containing four or five others, besides the one mentioned. Designed rather to identify the book than to describe the contents of each volume, they wrote down the first word or two of the second leaf--this was the most prevalent usage; but they often adopted other means, sometimes giving a slight notice of the works which a volume contained; others took the precaution of noting down the last word of the last leaf but one,[17] a great advantage, as the monkish student could more easily detect at a glance whether the volume was perfect. The armarian was, moreover, particularly enjoined to inspect with scrupulous care the more ancient volumes, lest the moth-worms should have got at them, or they had become corrupt or mutilated, and, if such were the case, he was with great care to restore them. Probably the armarian was also the bookbinder to the monastery in ordinary cases, for he is here directed to cover the volumes with tablets of wood, that the inside may be preserved from moisture, and the parchment from the injurious effects of dampness. The different orders of books were to be kept separate from one another, and conveniently arranged; not squeezed too tight, lest it should injure or confuse them, but so placed that they might be easily distinguished, and those who sought them might find them without delay or impediment.[18] Bibliomaniacs have not been remarkable for their memory or punctuality, and in the early times the borrower was often forgetful to return the volume within the specified time. To guard against this, many rules were framed, nor was the armarian allowed to lend the books, even to neighboring monasteries, unless he received a bond or promise to restore them within a certain time, and if the person was entirely unknown, a book of equal value was required as a security for its safe return. In all cases the armarian was instructed to make a short memorandum of the name of the book which he had lent or received. The "great and precious books" were subject to still more stringent rules, and although under the conservation of the librarian, he had not the privilege of lending them to any one without the distinct permission of the abbot.[19] This was, doubtless, practised by all the monastic libraries, for all generously lent one another their books. In a collection of chapter orders of the prior and convent of Durham, bearing date 1235, it is evident that a similar rule was observed there, which they were not to depart from except at the desire of the bishop.[20] According to the constitutions for the government of the Abingdon monastery, the library was under the care of the Cantor, and all the writings of the church were consigned to his keeping. He was not allowed to part with the books or lend them without a sufficient deposit as a pledge for their safe return, except to persons of consequence and repute.[21] This was the practice at a much later period. When that renowned bibliomaniac, Richard de Bury, wrote his delightful little book called _Philobiblon_, the same rules were strictly in force. With respect to the lending of books, his own directions are that, if any one apply for a particular volume, the librarian was to carefully consider whether the library contained another copy of it; if so, he was at liberty to lend the book, taking care, however, that he obtained a security which was to exceed the value of the loan; they were at the same time to make a memorandum in writing of the name of the book, and the nature of the security deposited for it, with the name of the party to whom it was lent, with that of the officer or librarian who delivered it.[22] We learn by the canons before referred to, that the superintendence of all the writing and transcribing, whether in or out of the monastery, belonged to the office of the armarian, and that it was his duty to provide the scribes with parchment and all things necessary for their work, and to agree upon the price with those whom he employed. The monks who were appointed to write in the cloisters he supplied with copies for transcription; and that no time might be wasted, he was to see that a good supply was kept up. No one was to give to another what he himself had been ordered to write, or presume to do anything by his own will or inclination. Nor was it seemly that the armarian even should give any orders for transcripts to be made without first receiving the permission of his superior.[23] We here catch a glimpse of the quiet life of a monkish student, who labored with this monotonous regularity to amass his little library. If we dwell on these scraps of information, we shall discover some marks of a love of learning among them, and the liberality they displayed in lending their books to each other is a pleasing trait to dwell upon. They unhesitatingly imparted to others the knowledge they acquired by their own study with a brotherly frankness and generosity well becoming the spirit of a student. This they did by extensive correspondence and the temporary exchange of their books. The system of loan, which they in this manner carried on to a considerable extent, is an important feature in connection with our subject; innumerable and interesting instances of this may be found in the monastic registers, and the private letters of the times. The cheapness of literary productions of the present age render it an absolute waste of time to transcribe a whole volume, and except with books of great scarcity we seldom think of borrowing or lending one; having finished its perusal we place it on the shelf and in future regard it as a book of reference; but in those days one volume did the work of twenty. It was lent to a neighboring monastery, and this constituted its publication; for each monastery thus favored, by the aid perhaps of some half dozen scribes, added a copy to their own library, and it was often stipulated that on the return of the original a correct duplicate should accompany it, as a remuneration to its author. Nor was the volume allowed to remain unread; it was recited aloud at meals, or when otherwise met together, to the whole community. We shall do well to bear this in mind, and not hastily judge of the number of students by a comparison with the number of their books. But it was not always a mere single volume that the monks lent from their library. Hunter has printed[24] a list of books lent by the Convent of Henton, A. D. 1343, to a neighboring monastery, containing twenty volumes. The engagement to restore these books was formally drawn up and sealed. In the monasteries the first consideration was to see that the library was well stored with those books necessary for the performance of the various offices of the church, but besides these the library ought, according to established rules, to contain for the "edification of the brothers" such as were fit and needful to be consulted in common study. The Bible and great expositors; _Bibliothecæ et majores expositores_, books of martyrs, lives of saints, homilies, etc.;[25] these and other large books the monks were allowed to take and study in private, but the smaller ones they could only study in the library, lest they should be lost or mislaid. This was also the case with respect to the rare and choice volumes. When the armarian gave out books to the monks he made a note of their nature, and took an exact account of their number, so that he might know in a moment which of the brothers had it for perusal.[26] Those who studied together were to receive what books they choose; but when they had satisfied themselves, they were particularly directed to restore them to their assigned places; and when they at any time received from the armarian a book for their private reading, they were not allowed to lend it to any one else, or to use it in common, but to reserve it especially for his own private reading. The same rule extended to the singers, who if they required books for their studies, were to apply to the abbot.[27] The sick brothers were also entitled to the privilege of receiving from the armarian books for their solace and comfort; but as soon as the lamps were lighted in the infirmary the books were put away till the morning, and if not finished, were again given out from the library.[28] In the more ancient monasteries a similar case was observed with respect to their books. The rule of St. Pacome directed that the utmost attention should be paid to their preservation, and that when the monks went to the refectory they were not to leave their books open, but to carefully close and put them in their assigned places. The monastery of St. Pacome contained a vast number of monks; every house, says Mabillon, was composed of not less than forty monks, and the monastery embraced thirty or forty houses. Each monk, he adds, possessed his book, and few rested without forming a library; by which we may infer that the number of books was considerable.[29] Indeed, it was quite a common practice in those days, scarce as books were, to allow each of the monks one or more for his private study, besides granting them access to the library. The constitutions of Lanfranc, in the year 1072, directed the librarian, at the commencement of Lent, to deliver a book to each of the monks for their private reading, allowing them a whole year for its perusal.[30] There is one circumstance connected with the affairs of the library quite characteristic of monkish superstition, and bearing painful testimony to their mistaken ideas of what constituted "good works." In Martene's book there is a chapter, _De Scientia et Signis_--degrading and sad; there is something withal curious to be found in it. After enjoining the most scrupulous silence in the church, in the refectory, in the cloister, and in the dormitory, at all times, and in all seasons; transforming those men into perpetual mutes, and even when "actually necessary," permitting only a whisper to be articulated "in a low voice in the ear," _submissa voce in aure_, it then proceeds to describe a series of fantastic grimaces which the monks were to perform on applying to the armarian for books. The general sign for a book, _generali signi libri_, was to "extend the hand and make a movement as if turning over the leaves of a book." For a missal the monk was to make a similar movement with a sign of the cross; for the gospels the sign of the cross on the forehead; for an antiphon or book of responses he was to strike the thumb and little finger of the other hand together; for a book of offices or gradale to make the sign of a cross and kiss the fingers; for a tract lay the hand on the abdomen and apply the other hand to the mouth; for a capitulary make the general sign and extend the clasped hands to heaven; for a psalter place the hands upon the head in the form of a crown, such as the king is wont to wear.[31] Religious intolerance was rampant when this rule was framed; hot and rancorous denunciation was lavished with amazing prodigality against works of loose morality or heathen origin; nor did the monks feel much compassion--although they loved to read them--for the old authors of antiquity. Pagans they were, and therefore fit only to be named as infidels and dogs, so the monk was directed for a secular book, "which some pagan wrote after making the general sign to scratch his ear with his hand, just as a dog itching would do with his feet, because infidels are not unjustly compared to such creatures--_quia nec immerito infideles tali animanti contparantur_."[32] Wretched bigotry and puny malice! Yet what a sad reflection it is, that with all the foul and heartburning examples which those dark ages of the monks afford, posterity have failed to profit by them--religious intolerance, with all its vain-glory and malice, flourishes still, the cankering worm of many a Christian blossom! Besides the duties which we have enumerated, there were others which it was the province of the armarian to fulfil. He was particularly to inspect and collate those books which, according to the decrees of the church, it was unlawful to possess different from the authorized copies; these were the bible, the gospels, missals, epistles, collects graduales, antiphons, hymns, psalters, lessions, and the monastic rules; these were always to be alike even in the most minute point.[33] He was moreover directed to prepare for the use of the brothers short tables respecting the times mentioned in the capitulary for the various offices of the church, to make notes upon the matins, the mass, and upon the different orders.[34] In fact, the monkish amanuensis was expected to undertake all those matters which required care and learning combined. He wrote the letters of the monastery, and often filled the office of secretary to my Lord Abbot. In the monasteries of course the services of the librarian were unrequited by any pecuniary remuneration, but in the cathedral libraries a certain salary was sometimes allowed them. Thus we learn that the amanuensis of the conventual church of Ely received in the year 1372 forty-three shillings and fourpence for his annual duties;[35] and Oswald, Bishop of Worcester, in the tenth century, gave considerable landed possessions to a monk of that church as a recompense for his services as librarian.[36] In some monasteries, in the twelfth century, if not earlier, they levied a tax on all the members of the community, who paid a yearly sum to the librarian for binding, preserving, and purchasing copies for the library. One of these rules, bearing date 1145, was made by Udon, Abbot of St. Père en Vallée à Chantres, and that it might be more plausibly received, he taxed himself as well as all the members of his own house.[37] The librarian sometimes, in addition to his regular duties, combined the office of precentor to the monastery.[38] Some of their account-books have been preserved, and by an inspection of them, we may occasionally gather some interesting and curious hints, as to the cost of books and writing materials in those times. As may be supposed, the monkish librarians often became great bibliophiles, for being in constant communication with choice manuscripts, they soon acquired a great mania for them. Posterity are also particularly indebted to the pens of these book conservators of the middle ages; for some of the best chroniclers and writers of those times were humble librarians to some religious house. Not only did the bibliophiles of old exercise the utmost care in the preservation of their darling books, but the religious basis of their education and learning prompted them to supplicate the blessing of God upon their goodly tomes. Although I might easily produce other instances, one will suffice to give an idea of their nature: "O Lord, send the virtue of thy Holy Spirit upon these our books; that cleansing them from all earthly things, by thy holy blessing, they may mercifully enlighten our hearts and give us true understanding; and grant that by thy teaching, they may brightly preserve and make full an abundance of good works according to thy will."[39] FOOTNOTES: [16] Cap. xxi. Martene de Antiquis Ecclesiæ Ritibus, tom. iii. p. 262. [17] See Catalogue of Hulne Abbey, Library MS. Harleian. No. 3897. [18] Martene de Antiq. Eccle. Rit., tom. iii. p. 263. [19] _Ibid._ Ingulphus tells us that the same rule was observed in Croyland Abbey.--_Apud Gale_, p. 104. [20] Marked b. iv. 26. Surtee Publications, vol. i. p. 121. [21] Const. admiss. Abbat, et gubernatione Monast. Abendum Cottonian M.S. Claudius, b. vi. p. 194. [22] Philobiblon, 4to. _Oxon_, 1599, chap. xix. [23] Martene de Ant. Eccl. Ribibus, tom. iii. p. 263. For an inattention to this the Council of Soissons, in 1121, ordered some transcripts of Abelard's works to be burnt, and severely reproved the author for his unpardonable neglect.--_Histoire Littéraire de la France_, tom. ix. p. 28. [24] Catalogues of Monastic Libraries, pp. 16, 17. [25] Const. Canon. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263. [26] _Ibid._ [27] _Ibid._, tom. iii. cap. xxxvi. pp. 269, 270. [28] Martene, tom. iii. p. 331. For a list of some books applied to their use, see MS. Cot. Galba, c. iv. fo. 128. [29] Mabillon, Traité des Etudes Monastiques, 4to. _Paris_ 1691, cap. vi. p. 34. [30] Wilkin's Concil. tom. i. p. 332. [31] Stat. pro Reform. ordin. Grandimont. ap. Martene cap. x. [32] _Ibid._, tom. iv. pp. 289, 339. [33] Const. Canon. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263. [34] _Ibid._, cap. xxi. p. 263. [35] Stevenson's Supple. to Bentham's Hist. of the Church of Ely, p. 51. [36] Thomas' Survey of the Church of Worcester, p. 45. [37] Mabillon. Annal. tom. vi. pp. 651 and 652. Hist. Litt. de la France, ix. p. 140. [38] They managed the pecuniary matters of the fraternity. William of Malmsbury was precentor as well as librarian to his monastery. [39] Martene de Antiq. Eccl. Ritibus ii. p. 302. CHAPTER III. _Scriptoria and the Scribes.--Care in copying.--Bible reading among the monks.--Booksellers in the middle ages.--Circulating libraries.--Calligraphic art, etc._ As the monasteries were the schools of learning, so their occupants were the preservers of literature, and, as Herault observes, had they not taken the trouble to transcribe books, the ancients had been lost to us for ever; to them, therefore, we owe much. But there are many, however, who suppose that the monastic establishments were hotbeds of superstition and fanaticism, from whence nothing of a useful or elevated nature could possibly emanate. They are too apt to suppose that the human intellect must be altogether weak and impotent when confined within such narrow limits; but truth and knowledge can exist even in the dark cells of a gloomy cloister, and inspire the soul with a fire that can shed a light far beyond its narrow precincts. Indeed, I scarce know whether to regret, as some appear to do, that the literature and learning of those rude times was preserved and fostered by the Christian church; it is said, that their strict devotion and religious zeal prompted them to disregard all things but a knowledge of those divine, but such is not the case; at least, I have not found it so; it is true, as churchmen, they were principally devoted to the study of divine and ecclesiastical lore; but it is also certain that in that capacity they gradually infused the mild spirit of their Master among the darkened society over which they presided, and among whom they shone as beacons of light in a dreary desert. But the church did more than this. She preserved to posterity the profane learnings of Old Greece and Rome; copied it, multiplied it, and spread it. She recorded to after generations in plain, simple language, the ecclesiastical and civil events of the past, for it is from the terse chronicles of the monkish churchmen that we learn now the history of what happened then. Much as we may dislike the monastic system, the cold, heartless, gloomy ascetic atmosphere of the cloister, and much as we may deplore the mental dissipation of man's best attributes, which the system of those old monks engendered, we must exercise a cool and impartial judgment, and remember that what now would be intolerable and monstrously inconsistent with our present state of intellectuality, might at some remote period, in the ages of darkness and comparative barbarism, have had its virtues and beneficial influences. As for myself, it would be difficult to convince me, with all those fine relics of their deeds before me, those beauteous fanes dedicated to piety and God, those libraries so crowded with their vellum tomes, so gorgeously adorned, and the abundant evidence which history bears to their known charity and hospitable love, that these monks and their system was a scheme of dismal barbarism; it may be so, but my reading has taught me different; but, on the other hand, although the monks possessed many excellent qualities, being the encouragers of literature, the preservers of books, and promulgators of civilization, we must not hide their numerous and palpable faults, or overlook the poison which their system of monachism _ultimately_ infused into the very vitals of society. In the early centuries, before the absurdities of Romanism were introduced, the influence of the monastic orders was highly beneficial to our Saxon ancestors, but in after ages the Church of England was degraded by the influence of the fast growing abominations of Popedom. She drank copiously of the deadly potion, and became the blighted and ghostly shadow of her former self. Forgetting the humility of her divine Lord, she sought rather to imitate the worldly splendor and arrogance of her Sovereign Pontiff. The evils too obviously existed to be overlooked; but it is not my place to further expose them; a more pleasing duty guides my pen; others have done all this, lashing them painfully for their oft-told sins. Frail humanity glories in chastizing the frailty of brother man. But we will not denounce them here, for did not the day of retribution come? And was not justice satisfied? Having made these few preliminary remarks, let us, in a brief manner, inquire into the system observed in the cloisters by the monks for the preservation and transcription of manuscripts. Let us peep into the quiet cells of those old monks, and see whether history warrants the unqualified contempt which their efforts in this department have met with. In most monasteries there were two kinds of Scriptoria, or writing offices; for in addition to the large and general apartment used for the transcription of church books and manuscripts for the library, there were also several smaller ones occupied by the superiors and the more learned members of the community, as closets for private devotion and study. Thus we read, that in the Cistercian orders there were places set apart for the transcription of books called Scriptoria, or cells assigned to the scribes, "separate from each other," where the books might be transcribed in the strictest silence, according to the holy rules of their founders.[40] These little cells were usually situated in the most retired part of the monastery, and were probably incapable of accommodating more than one or two persons;[41] dull and comfortless places, no doubt, yet they were deemed great luxuries, and the use of them only granted to such as became distinguished for their piety, or erudition. We read that when David went to the Isle of Wight, to Paulinus, to receive his education, he used to sup in the Refectory, but had a Scriptorium, or study, in his cell, being a famous scribe.[42] The aged monks, who often lived in these little offices, separate from the rest of the scribes, were not expected to work so arduously as the rest. Their employment was comparatively easy; nor were they compelled to work so long as those in the cloister.[43] There is a curious passage in Tangmar's Life of St. Bernward, which would lead us to suspect that private individuals possessed Scriptoria; for, says he, there are Scriptoria, not only in the monasteries, but in other places, in which are conceived books equal to the divine works of the philosophers.[44] The Scriptorium of the monastery in which the general business of a literary nature was transacted, was an apartment far more extensive and commodious, fitted up with forms and desks methodically arranged, so as to contain conveniently a great number of copyists. In some of the monasteries and cathedrals, they had long ranges of seats one after another, at which were seated the scribes, one well versed in the subject on which the book treated, recited from the copy whilst they wrote; so that, on a word being given out by him, it was copied by all.[45] The multiplication of manuscripts, under such a system as this, must have been immense; but they did not always make books, _fecit libros_, as they called it, in this wholesale manner, but each monk diligently labored at the transcription of a separate work. The amount of labor carried on in the Scriptorium, of course, in many cases depended upon the revenues of the abbey, and the disposition of the abbot; but this was not always the case, as in some monasteries they undertook the transcription of books as a matter of commerce, and added broad lands to their house by the industry of their pens. But the Scriptorium was frequently supported by resources solely applicable to its use. Laymen, who had a taste for literature, or who entertained an esteem for it in others, often at their death bequeathed estates for the support of the monastic Scriptoria. Robert, one of the Norman leaders, gave two parts of the tythes of Hatfield, and the tythes of Redburn, for the support of the Scriptorium of St. Alban's.[46] The one belonging to the monastery of St. Edmundsbury was endowed with two mills,[47] and in the church of Ely there is a charter of Bishof Nigellus, granting to the Scriptorium of the monastery the tythes of Wythessey and Impitor, two parts of the tythes of the Lordship of Pampesward, with 2s. 2d., and a messuage in Ely _ad faciendos et emandandos libros_.[48] The abbot superintended the management of the Scriptorium, and decided upon the hours for their labor, during which time they were ordered to work with unremitting diligence, "not leaving to go and wander in idleness," but to attend solely to the business of transcribing. To prevent detraction or interruption, no one was allowed to enter except the abbot, the prior, the sub-prior, and the armarian,[49] as the latter took charge of all the materials and implements used by the transcribers, it was his duty to prepare and give them out when required; he made the ink and cut the parchment ready for use. He was strictly enjoined, however, to exercise the greatest economy in supplying these precious materials, and not to give more copies "nec artavos, nec cultellos, nec scarpellæ, nec membranes," than was actually necessary, or than he had computed as sufficient for the work; and what the armarian gave them the monks were to receive without contradiction or contention.[50] The utmost silence prevailed in the Scriptorium; rules were framed, and written admonitions hung on the walls, to enforce the greatest care and diligence in copying exactly from the originals. In Alcuin's works we find one of these preserved; it is a piece inscribed "_Ad Musæum libros scribentium_;" the lines are as follows: "Hic sideant sacræ scribentes famina legis, Nec non sanctorum dicta sacrata Patrum, Hæc interserere caveant sua frivola verbis, Frivola nec propter erret et ipsa manus: Correctosque sibi quærant studiose libellos, Tramite quo recto penna volantis eat. Per cola distinquant proprios, et commata sensus, Et punctos ponant ordine quosque suo. Ne vel falsa legat, taceat vel forte repente, Ante pios fratres, lector in Ecclesia. Est opus egregium sacros jam scribete libros, Nec mercede sua scriptor et ipse caret. Fodere quam vites, melius est scribere libros, Ille suo ventri serviet, iste animæ. Vel nova, vel vetera poterit proferre magister Plurima, quisque legit dicta sacrata Patrum."[51] Other means were resorted to besides these to preserve the text of their books immaculate, it was a common practice for the scribe at the end of his copy, to adjure all who transcribed from it to use the greatest care, and to refrain from the least alteration of word or sense. Authors more especially followed this course, thus at the end of some we find such injunctions as this. "I adjure you who shall transcribe this book, by our Lord Jesus Christ and by his glorious coming, who will come to judge the quick and the dead, that you compare what you transcribe and diligently correct it by the copy from which you transcribe it--this adjuration also--and insert it in your copy."[52] The Consuetudines Canonicorum, before referred to, also particularly impressed this upon the monks, and directed that all the brothers who were engaged as scribes, were not to alter any writing, although in their own mind they might think it proper, without first receiving the sanction of the abbot, "_on no account were they to commit so great a presumption_."[53] But notwithstanding that the scribes were thus enjoined to use the utmost care in copying books, doubtless an occasional error crept in, which many causes might have produced, such as bad light, haste, a little drowsiness, imperfect sight, or even a flickering lamp was sufficient to produce some trivial error; but in works of importance the smallest error is of consequence, as some future scribe puzzled by the blunder, might, in an attempt to correct, still more augment the imperfection; to guard against this, with respect to the Scriptures, the most critical care was enforced. Monks advanced in age were alone allowed to transcribe them, and after their completion they were read--revised--and reread again, and it is by that means that so uniform a reading has been preserved, and although slight differences may here and there occur, there are no books which have traversed through the shadows of the dark ages, that preserve their original text so pure and uncorrupt as the copies of the Scriptures, the fathers of the church, and the ancient writings of the classic authors; sometimes, it is true, a manuscript of the last order is discovered possessing a very different reading in some particular passage; but these appear rather as futile emendations or interpolations of the scribe than as the result of a downright blunder, and are easily perceivable, for when the monkish churchmen tampered with ancient copies, it generally originated in a desire to smooth over the indecencies of the heathen authors, and so render them less liable to corrupt the holy contemplations of the devotee; and while we blame the pious fraud, we cannot but respect the motive that dictated it. But as regards the Scriptures, we talk of the carelessness of the monks and the interpolations of the scribes as if these were faults peculiar to the monastic ages alone; alas! the history of Biblical transmission tells us differently, the gross perversions, omissions, and errors wrought in the holy text, proclaim how prevalent these same faults have been in the ages of _printed literature_, and which appear more palpable by being produced amidst deep scholars, and surrounded with all the critical acumen of a learned age. Five or six thousand of these gross blunders, or these wilful mutilations, protest the unpleasant fact, and show how much of human grossness it has acquired, and how besmeared with corruption those sacred pages have become in passing through the hands of man, and the "revisings" of sectarian minds. I am tempted to illustrate this by an anecdote related by Sir Nicholas L'Estrange of Hunstanton, and preserved in a MS. in the Harlein collection.--"Dr. Usher, Bish. of Armath, being to preach at Paules Crosse and passing hastily by one of the stationers, called for a Bible, and had a little one of the London edition given him out, but when he came to looke for his text, that very verse was omitted in the print: which gave the first occasion of complaint to the king of the insufferable negligence, and insufficience of the London printers and presse, and bredde that great contest that followed, betwixt the univers. of Cambridge and London stationers, about printing of the Bibles."[54] Gross and numerous indeed were the errors of the corrupt bible text of that age, and far exceeding even the blunders of monkish pens, and certainly much less excusable, for in those times they seldom had a large collection of codices to compare, so that by studying their various readings, they could arrive at a more certain and authentic version. The paucity of the sacred volume, if it rendered their pens more liable to err, served to enforce upon them the necessity of still greater scrutiny. On looking over a monastic catalogue, the first volume that I search for is the Bible; and, I feel far more disappointment if I find it not there, than I do at the absence of Horace or Ovid--there is something so desolate in the idea of a Christian priest without the Book of Life--of a minister of God without the fountain of truth--that however favorably we may be prone to regard them, a thought will arise that the absence of this sacred book may perhaps be referred to the indolence of the monkish pen, or to the laxity of priestly piety. But such I am glad to say was not often the case; the Bible it is true was an expensive book, but can scarcely be regarded as a rare one; the monastery was indeed poor that had it not, and when once obtained the monks took care to speedily transcribe it. Sometimes they only possessed detached portions, but when this was the case they generally borrowed of some neighboring and more fortunate monastery, the missing parts to transcribe, and so complete their own copies. But all this did not make the Bible less loved among them, or less anxiously and ardently studied, they devoted their days, and the long hours of the night, to the perusal of those pages of inspired truth,[55] and it is a calumny without a shadow of foundation to declare that the monks were careless of scripture reading; it is true they did not apply that vigor of thought, and unrestrained reflection upon it which mark the labors of the more modern student, nor did they often venture to interpret the hidden meaning of the holy mysteries by the powers of their own mind, but were guided in this important matter by the works of the fathers. But hence arose a circumstance which gave full exercise to their mental powers and compelled the monk in spite of his timidity to think a little for himself. Unfortunately the fathers, venerable and venerated as they were, after all were but men, with many of the frailties and all the fallabilities of poor human nature; the pope might canonize them, and the priesthood bow submissively to their spiritual guidance, still they remained for all that but mortals of dust and clay, and their bulky tomes yet retain the swarthiness of the tomb about them, the withering impress of humanity. Such being the case we, who do not regard them quite so infallible, feel no surprise at a circumstance which sorely perplexed the monks of old, they unchained and unclasped their cumbrous "Works of the Fathers," and pored over those massy expositions with increasing wonder; surrounded by these holy guides, these fathers of infallibility, they were like strangers in a foreign land, did they follow this holy saint they seemed about to forsake the spiritual direction of one having equal claims to their obedience and respect; alas! for poor old weak tradition, those fabrications of man's faulty reason were found, with all their orthodoxy, to clash woefully in scriptural interpretation. Here was a dilemma for the monkish student! whose vow of obedience to patristical guidance was thus sorely perplexed; he read and re-read, analyzed passage after passage, interpreted word after word; and yet, poor man, his laborious study was fruitless and unprofitable! What bible student can refrain from sympathizing with him amidst these torturing doubts and this crowd of contradiction, but after all we cannot regret this, for we owe to it more than my feeble pen can write, so immeasurable have been the fruits of this little unheeded circumstance. It gave birth to many a bright independent declaration, involving pure lines of scripture interpretation, which appear in the darkness of those times like fixed stars before us; to this, in Saxon days, we are indebted for the labors of Ælfric and his anti-Roman doctrines, whose soul also sympathized with a later age by translating portions of the Bible into the vulgar tongue, thus making it accessible to all classes of the people. To this we are indebted for all the good that resulted from those various heterodoxies and heresies, which sometimes disturbed the church during the dark ages; but which wrought much ultimate good by compelling the thoughts of men to dwell on these important matters. Indeed, to the instability of the fathers, as a sure guide, we may trace the origin of all those efforts of the human mind, which cleared the way for the Reformation, and relieved man from the shackles of these spiritual guides of the monks. But there were many cloistered Christians who studied the bible undisturbed by these shadows and doubts, and who, heedless of patristical lore and saintly wisdom, devoured the spiritual food in its pure and uncontaminating simplicity--such students, humble, patient, devoted, will be found crowding the monastic annals, and yielding good evidence of the same by the holy tenor of their sinless lives, their Christian charity and love. But while so many obtained the good title of an "_Amator Scripturarum_," as the bible student was called in those monkish days, I do not pretend to say that the Bible was a common book among them, or that every monk possessed one--far different indeed was the case--a copy of the Old and New Testament often supplied the wants of an entire monastery, and in others, as I have said before, only some detached portions were to be found in their libraries. Sometimes they were more plentiful, and the monastery could boast of two or three copies, besides a few separate portions, and occasionally I have met with instances where besides several _Biblia Optima_, they enjoyed Hebrew codices and translations, with numerous copies of the gospels. We must not forget, however, that the transcription of a Bible was a work of time, and required the outlay of much industry and wealth. "Brother Tedynton," a monk of Ely, commenced a Bible in 1396, and was several years before he completed it. The magnitude of the undertaking can scarcely be imagined by those unpractised in the art of copying, but when the monk saw the long labor of his pen before him, and looked upon the well bound strong clasped volumes, with their clean vellum folios and fine illuminations, he seemed well repaid for his years of toil and tedious labor, and felt a glow of pious pleasure as he contemplated his happy acquisition, and the comfort and solace which he should hereafter derive from its holy pages! We are not surprised then, that a Bible in those days should be esteemed so valuable, and capable of realizing a considerable sum. The monk, independent of its spiritual value, regarded it as a great possession, worthy of being bestowed at his death, with all the solemnity of a testamentary process, and of being gratefully acknowledged by the fervent prayers of the monkish brethren. Kings and nobles offered it as an appropriate and generous gift, and bishops were deemed benefactors to their church by adding it to the library. On its covers were written earnest exhortations to the Bible student, admonishing the greatest care in its use, and leveling anathemas and excommunications upon any one who should dare to purloin it. For its greater security it was frequently chained to a reading desk, and if a duplicate copy was lent to a neighboring monastery they required a large deposit, or a formal bond for its safe return.[56] These facts, while they show its value, also prove how highly it was esteemed among them, and how much the monks loved the Book of Life. But how different is the picture now--how opposite all this appears to the aspect of bible propagation in our own time. Thanks to the printing-press, to bible societies, and to the benevolence of God, we cannot enter the humblest cottage of the poorest peasant without observing the Scriptures on his little shelf--not always read, it is true--nor always held in veneration as in the old days before us--its very plentitude and cheapness takes off its attraction to irreligious and indifferent readers, but to poor and needy Christians what words can express the fulness of the blessing. Yet while we thank God for this great boon, let us refrain from casting uncharitable reflections upon the monks for its comparative paucity among them. If its possession was not so easily acquired, they were nevertheless true lovers of the Bible, and preserved and multiplied it in dark and troublous times. Our remarks have hitherto applied to the monastic scribes alone; but it is necessary here to speak of the secular copyists, who were an important class during the middle ages, and supplied the functions of the bibliopole of the ancients. But the transcribing trade numbered three or four distinct branches. There were the Librarii Antiquarii, Notarii, and the Illuminators--occasionally these professions were all united in one--where perseverance or talent had acquired a knowledge of these various arts. There appears to have been considerable competition between these contending bodies. The notarii were jealous of the librarii, and the librarii in their turn were envious of the antiquarii, who devoted their ingenuity to the transcription and repairing of old books especially, rewriting such parts as were defective or erased, and restoring the dilapidations of the binding. Being learned in old writings they corrected and revised the copies of ancient codices; of this class we find mention as far back as the time of Cassiodorus and Isidore.[57] "They deprived," says Astle, "the poor librarii, or common scriptores, of great part of their business, so that they found it difficult to gain a subsistence for themselves and their families. This put them about finding out more expeditious methods of transcribing books. They formed the letters smaller, and made use of more conjugations and abbreviations than had been usual. They proceeded in this manner till the letters became exceedingly small and extremely difficult to be read."[58] The fact of there existing a class of men, whose fixed employment or profession was solely confined to the transcription of ancient writings and to the repairing of tattered copies, in contradistinction to the common scribes, and depending entirely upon the exercise of their art as a means of obtaining a subsistence, leads us to the conclusion that ancient manuscripts were by no means so very scarce in those days; for how absurd and useless it would have been for men to qualify themselves for transcribing these antiquated and venerable codices, if there had been no probability of obtaining them to transcribe. The fact too of its becoming the subject of so much competition proves how great was the demand for their labor.[59] We are unable, with any positive result, to discover the exact origin of the secular scribes, though their existence may probably be referred to a very remote period. The monks seem to have monopolized for some ages the "_Commercium Librorum_,"[60] and sold and bartered copies to a considerable extent among each other. We may with some reasonable grounds, however, conjecture that the profession was flourishing in Saxon times; for we find several eminent names in the seventh and eighth centuries who, in their epistolary correspondence, beg their friends to procure transcripts for them. Benedict, Bishop of Wearmouth, purchased most of his book treasures at Rome, which was even at that early period probably a famous mart for such luxuries, as he appears to have journeyed there for that express purpose. Some of the books which he collected were presents from his foreign friends; but most of them, as Bede tells us, were _bought_ by himself, or in accordance with his instructions, by his friends.[61] Boniface, the Saxon missionary, continually writes for books to his associates in all parts of Europe. At a subsequent period the extent and importance of the profession grew amazingly; and in Italy its followers were particularly numerous in the tenth century, as we learn from the letters of Gerbert, afterwards Silvester II., who constantly writes, with the cravings of a bibliomaniac, to his friends for books, and begs them to get the scribes, who, he adds, in one of his letters, may be found in all parts of Italy,[62] both in town and in the country, to make transcripts of certain books for him, and he promises to reimburse his correspondent all that he expends for the same. These public scribes derived their principal employment from the monks and the lawyers; from the former in transcribing their manuscripts, and by the latter in drawing up their legal instruments. They carried on their avocation at their own homes like other artisans; but sometimes when employed by the monks executed their transcripts within the cloister, where they were boarded, lodged, and received their wages till their work was done. This was especially the case when some great book was to be copied, of rarity and price; thus we read of Paulinus, of St. Albans, sending into distant parts to obtain proficient workmen, who were paid so much per diem for their labor; their wages were generously supplied by the Lord of Redburn.[63] The increase of knowledge and the foundation of the universities gave birth to the booksellers. Their occupation as a distinct trade originated at a period coeval with the foundation of these public seminaries, although the first mention that I am aware of is made by Peter of Blois, about the year 1170. I shall have occasion to speak more hereafter of this celebrated scholar, but I may be excused for giving the anecdote here, as it is so applicable to my subject. It appears, then, that whilst remaining in Paris to transact some important matter for the King of England, he entered the shop of "a public dealer in books"--for be it known that the archdeacon was always on the search, and seldom missed an opportunity of adding to his library--the bookseller, Peter tells us, offered him a tempting collection on Jurisprudence; but although his knowledge of such matters was so great that he did not require them for his own use, he thought they might be serviceable to his nephew, and after bargaining a little about the price he counted down the money agreed upon and left the stall; but no sooner was his back turned than the Provost of Sexeburgh came in to look over the literary stores of the stationer, and his eye meeting the recently sold volume, he became inspired with a wish to possess it; nor could he, on hearing it was bought and paid for by another, suppress his anxiety to obtain the treasure; but, offering more money, actually took the volume away by force. As may be supposed, Archdeacon Peter was sorely annoyed at this behavior; and "To his dearest companion and friend Master Arnold of Blois, Peter of Blois Archdeacon of Bath sent greeting," a long and learned letter, displaying his great knowledge of civil law, and maintaining the illegality of the provost's conduct.[64] The casual way in which this is mentioned make it evident that the "_publico mangone Librorum_" was no unusual personage in those days, but belonged to a common and recognized profession. The vast number of students who, by the foundation of universities, were congregated together, generated of course a proportionate demand for books, which necessity or luxury prompted them eagerly to purchase: but there were poor as well as rich students educated in these great seminaries of learning, whose pecuniary means debarred them from the acquisition of such costly luxuries; and for this and other cogent reasons the universities deemed it advantageous, and perhaps expedient, to frame a code of laws and regulations to provide alike for the literary wants of all classes and degrees. To effect this they obtained royal sanction to take the trade entirely under their protection, and eventually monopolized a sole legislative power over the _Librarii_. In the college of Navarre a great quantity of ancient documents are preserved, many of which relate to this curious subject. They were deposited there by M. Jean Aubert in 1623, accompanied by an inventory of them, divided into four parts by the first four letters of the alphabet. In the fourth, under D. 18, there is a chapter entitled "Des Libraires Appretiateurs, Jurez et Enlumineurs," which contains much interesting matter relating to the early history of bookselling.[65] These ancient statutes, collected and printed by the University in the year 1652,[66] made at various times, and ranging between the years 1275 and 1403, give us a clear insight into the matter. The nature of a bookseller's business in those days required no ordinary capacity, and no shallow store of critical acumen; the purchasing of manuscripts, the work of transcription, the careful revisal, the preparation of materials, the tasteful illuminations, and the process of binding, were each employments requiring some talent and discrimination, and we are not surprised, therefore, that the avocation of a dealer and fabricator of these treasures should be highly regarded, and dignified into a profession, whose followers were invested with all the privileges, freedoms and exemptions, which the masters and students of the university enjoyed.[67] But it required these conciliations to render the restrictive and somewhat severe measures, which she imposed on the bookselling trade, to be received with any degree of favor or submission. For whilst the University of Paris, by whom these statutes were framed, encouraged and elevated the profession of the librarii, she required, on the other hand, a guarantee of their wealth and mental capacity, to maintain and to appreciate these important concessions; the bookseller was expected indeed to be well versed in all branches of science, and to be thoroughly imbued with a knowledge of those subjects and works of which he undertook to produce transcripts.[68] She moreover required of him testimonials to his good character, and efficient security, ratified by a solemn oath of allegiance,[69] and a promise to observe and submit to all the present and future laws and regulations of the university. In some cases, it appears that she restricted the number of librarii, though this fell into disuse as the wants of the students increased. Twenty-four seems to have been the original number,[70] which is sufficiently great to lead to the conclusion that bookselling was a flourishing trade in those old days. By the statutes of the university, the bookseller was not allowed to expose his transcripts for sale, without first submitting them to the inspection of certain officers appointed by the university, and if an error was discovered, the copies were ordered to be burnt or a fine levied on them, proportionate to their inaccuracy. Harsh and stringent as this may appear at first sight, we shall modify our opinion, on recollecting that the student was in a great degree dependent upon the care of the transcribers for the fidelity of his copies, which rendered a rule of this nature almost indispensable; nor should we forget the great service it bestowed in maintaining the primitive accuracy of ancient writers, and in transmitting them to us through those ages in their original purity.[71] In these times of free trade and unrestrained commercial policy, we shall regard less favorably a regulation which they enforced at Paris, depriving the bookseller of the power of fixing a price upon his own goods. Four booksellers were appointed and sworn in to superintend this department, and when a new transcript was finished, it was brought by the bookseller, and they discussed its merits and fixed its value, which formed the amount the bookseller was compelled to ask for it; if he demanded of his customer a larger sum, it was deemed a fraudulent imposition, and punishable as such. Moreover, as an advantage to the students, the bookseller was expected to make a considerable reduction in his profits in supplying them with books; by one of the laws of the university, his profit on each volume was confined to four deniers to student, and six deniers to a common purchaser. The librarii were still further restricted in the economy of their trade, by a rule which forbade any one of them to dispose of his entire stock of books without the consent of the university; but this, I suspect, implied the disposal of the stock and trade together, and was intended to intimate that the introduction of the purchaser would not be allowed, without the cognizance and sanction of the university.[72] Nor was the bookseller able to purchase books without her consent, lest they should be of an immoral or heretical tendency; and they were absolutely forbidden to buy any of the students, without the permission of the rector. But restricted as they thus were, the book merchants nevertheless grew opulent, and transacted an important and extensive trade; sometimes they purchased parts and sometimes they had whole libraries to sell.[73] Their dealings were conducted with unusual care, and when a volume of peculiar rarity or interest was to be sold, a deed of conveyance was drawn up with legal precision, in the presence of authorized witnesses. In those days of high prices and book scarcity, the poor student was sorely impeded in his progress; to provide against these disadvantages, they framed a law in 1342, at Paris, compelling all public booksellers to keep books to lend out on hire. The reader will be surprised at the idea of a circulating library in the middle ages! but there can be no doubt of the fact, they were established at Paris, Toulouse, Vienna, and Bologne. These public librarians, too, were obliged to write out regular catalogues of their books and hang them up in their shops, with the prices affixed, so that the student might know beforehand what he had to pay for reading them. I am tempted to give a few extracts from these lists: St. Gregory's Commentaries upon Job, for reading 100 pages, 8 sous. St. Gregory's Book of Homilies, 28 pages for 12 deniers. Isidore's De Summa bona, 24 pages, 12 deniers. Anselm's De Veritate de Libertate Arbitrii, 40 pages, 2 sous. Peter Lombard's Book of Sentences, 3 sous. Scholastic History, 3 sous. Augustine's Confessions, 21 pages, 4 deniers. Gloss on Matthew, by brother Thomas Aquinas, 57 pages, 3 sous. Bible Concordance, 9 sous. Bible, 10 sous.[74] This rate of charge was also fixed by the university, and the students borrowing these books were privileged to transcribe them if they chose; if any of them proved imperfect or faulty, they were denounced by the university, and a fine imposed upon the bookseller who had lent out the volume. This potent influence exercised by the universities over booksellers became, in time, much abused, and in addition to these commercial restraints, they assumed a still less warrantable power over the original productions of authors; and became virtually the public censors of books, and had the power of burning or prohibiting any work of questionable orthodoxy. In the time of Henry the Second, a book was published by being read over for two or three successive days, before one of the universities, and if they approved of its doctrines and bestowed upon it their approbation, it was allowed to be copied extensively for sale. Stringent as the university rules were, as regards the bookselling trade, they were, nevertheless, sometimes disregarded or infringed; some ventured to take more for a book than the sum allowed, and, by prevarication and secret contracts, eluded the vigilance of the laws.[75] Some were still bolder, and openly practised the art of a scribe and the profession of a bookseller, without knowledge or sanction of the university. This gave rise to much jealousy, and in the University of Oxford, in the year 1373, they made a decree forbidding any person exposing books for sale without her licence.[76] Now, considering all these usages of early bookselling, their numbers, their opulence, and above all, the circulating libraries which the librarii established, can we still retain the opinion that books were so inaccessible in those ante-printing days, when we know that for a few sous the booklover could obtain good and authenticated copies to peruse, or transcribe? It may be advanced that these facts solely relate to universities, and were intended merely to insure a supply of the necessary books in constant requisition by the students, but such was not the case; the librarii were essentially public _Librorum Venditores_, and were glad to dispose of their goods to any who could pay for them. Indeed, the early bibliomaniacs usually flocked to these book marts to rummage over the stalls, and to collect their choice volumes. Richard de Bury obtained many in this way, both at Paris and at Rome. Of the exact pecuniary value of books during the middle ages, we have no means of judging. The few instances that have accidentally been recorded are totally inadequate to enable us to form an opinion. The extravagant estimate given by some as to the value of books in those days is merely conjectural, as it necessarily must be, when we remember that the price was guided by the accuracy of the transcription, the splendor of the binding, which was often gorgeous to excess, and by the beauty and richness of the illuminations.[77] Many of the manuscripts of the middle ages are magnificent in the extreme. Sometimes they inscribed the gospels and the venerated writings of the fathers with liquid gold, on parchment of the richest purple,[78] and adorned its brilliant pages with illuminations of exquisite workmanship. The first specimens we have of an attempt to embellish manuscripts are Egyptian. It was a common practice among them at first to color the initial letter of each chapter or division of their work, and afterwards to introduce objects of various kinds into the body of the manuscript. The splendor of the ancient calligraphical productions of Greece,[79] and the still later ones of Rome, bear repeated testimony that the practice of this art had spread during the sixth century, if not earlier, to these powerful empires. England was not tardy in embracing this elegant art. We have many relics of remote antiquity and exquisite workmanship existing now, which prove the talent and assiduity of our early Saxon forefathers. In Ireland the illuminating art was profusely practised at a period as early as the commencement of the seventh century, and in the eighth we find it holding forth eminent claims to our respect by the beauty of their workmanship, and the chastity of their designs. Those well versed in the study of these ancient manuscripts have been enabled, by extensive but minute observation, to point out their different characteristics in various ages, and even to decide upon the school in which a particular manuscript was produced. These illuminations, which render the early manuscripts of the monkish ages so attractive, generally exemplify the rude ideas and tastes of the time. In perspective they are wofully deficient, and manifest but little idea of the picturesque or sublime; but here and there we find quite a gem of art, and, it must be owned, we are seldom tired by monotony of coloring, or paucity of invention. A study of these parchment illustrations afford considerable instruction. Not only do they indicate the state of the pictorial art in the middle ages, but also give us a comprehensive insight into the scriptural ideas entertained in those times; and the bible student may learn much from pondering on these glittering pages; to the historical student, and to the lover of antiquities, they offer a verdant field of research, and he may obtain in this way many a glimpse of the manners and customs of those old times which the pages of the monkish chroniclers have failed to record. But all this prodigal decoration greatly enhanced the price of books, and enabled them to produce a sum, which now to us sounds enormously extravagant. Moreover, it is supposed that the scarcity of parchment limited the number of books materially, and prevented their increase to any extent; but I am prone to doubt this assertion, for my own observations do not help to prove it. Mr. Hallam says, that in consequence of this, "an unfortunate practice gained ground of erasing a manuscript in order to substitute another on the same skin. This occasioned, probably, the loss of many ancient authors who have made way for the legends of saints, or other ecclesiastical rubbish."[80] But we may reasonably question this opinion, when we consider the value of books in the middle ages, and with what esteem the monks regarded, in spite of all their paganism, those "heathen dogs" of the ancient world. A doubt has often forced itself upon my mind when turning over the "crackling leaves" of many ancient MSS., whether the peculiarity mentioned by Montfaucon, and described as parchment from which former writing had been erased, may not be owing, in many cases, to its mode of preparation. It is true, a great proportion of the membrane on which the writings of the middle ages are inscribed, appear rough and uneven, but I could not detect, through many manuscripts of a hundred folios--all of which evinced this roughness--the unobliterated remains of a single letter. And when I have met with instances, they appear to have been short writings--perhaps epistles; for the monks were great correspondents, and, I suspect, kept economy in view, and often carried on an epistolary intercourse, for a considerable time, with a very limited amount of parchment, by erasing the letter to make room for the answer. This, probably, was usual where the matter of their correspondence was of no especial importance; so that, what our modern critics, being emboldened by these faint traces of former writing, have declared to possess the classic appearance of hoary antiquity, may be nothing more than a complimentary note, or the worthless accounts of some monastic expenditure. But, careful as they were, what would these monks have thought of "paper-sparing Pope," who wrote his Iliad on small pieces of refuse paper? One of the finest passages in that translation, which describes the parting of Hector and Andromache, is written on part of a letter which Addison had franked, and is now preserved in the British Museum. Surely he could afford, these old monks would have said, to expend some few shillings for paper, on which to inscribe that for which he was to receive his thousand pounds. But far from the monastic manuscripts displaying a scantiness of parchment, we almost invariably find an abundant margin, and a space between each line almost amounting to prodigality; and to say that the "vellum was considered more precious than the genius of the author,"[81] is absurd, when we know that, in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, a dozen skins of parchment could be bought for sixpence; whilst that quantity written upon, if the subject possessed any interest at all, would fetch considerably more, there always being a demand and ready sale for books.[82] The supposition, therefore, that the monastic scribes erased _classical_ manuscripts for the sake of the material, seems altogether improbable, and certainly destitute of proof. It is true, many of the classics, as we have them now, are but mere fragments of the original work. For this, however, we have not to blame the monks, but barbarous invaders, ravaging flames, and the petty animosities of civil and religious warfare for the loss of many valuable works of the classics. By these means, one hundred and five books of Livy have been lost to us, probably forever. For the thirty which have been preserved, our thanks are certainly due to the monks. It was from their unpretending and long-forgotten libraries that many such treasures were brought forth at the revival of learning, in the fifteenth century, to receive the admiration of the curious, and the study of the erudite scholar. In this way Poggio Bracciolini discovered many inestimable manuscripts. Leonardo Aretino writes in rapturous terms on Poggio's discovery of a perfect copy of Quintillian. "What a precious acquisition!" he exclaims, "what unthought of pleasure to behold Quintillian perfect and entire!"[83] In the same letter we learn that Poggio had discovered Asconius and Flaccus in the monastery of St. Gall, whose inhabitants regarded them without much esteem. In the monastery of Langres, his researches were rewarded by a copy of Cicero's Oration for Cæcina. With the assistance of Bartolomeo di Montepulciano, he discovered Silius Italicus, Lactantius, Vegetius, Nonius Marcellus, Ammianus Marcellus, Lucretius, and Columella, and he found in a monastery at Rome a complete copy of Turtullian.[84] In the fine old monastery of Casino, so renowned for its classical library in former days, he met with Julius Frontinus and Firmicus, and transcribed them with his own hand. At Cologne he obtained a copy of Petronius Arbiter. But to these we may add Calpurnius's Bucolic,[85] Manilius, Lucius Septimus, Coper, Eutychius, and Probus. He had anxious hopes of adding a perfect Livy to the list, which he had been told then existed in a Cistercian Monastery in Hungary, but, unfortunately, he did not prosecute his researches in this instance with his usual energy. The scholar has equally to regret the loss of a perfect Tacitus, which Poggio had expectations of from the hands of a German monk. We may still more deplore this, as there is every probability that the monks actually possessed the precious volume.[86] Nicolas of Treves, a contemporary and friend of Poggio's, and who was infected, though in a slight degree, with the same passionate ardor for collecting ancient manuscripts, discovered, whilst exploring the German monasteries, twelve comedies of Plautus, and a fragment of Aulus Gellius.[87] Had it not been for the timely aid of these great men, many would have been irretrievably lost in the many revolutions and contentions that followed; and, had such been the case, the monks, of course, would have received the odium, and on their heads the spleen of the disappointed student would have been prodigally showered. FOOTNOTES: [40] Martene Thesaurus novus Anecdot. tom. iv. col. 1462. [41] See Du Cange in Voc., vol. vi. p. 264. [42] Anglia Sacra, ii. 635. Fosbrooke Brit. Monach., p. 15. [43] Martene Thes. Nov. Anec. tom. iv. col. 1462. Stat. Ord. Cistere, anni 1278, they were allowed for "_Studendum vel recreandum_." [44] Hildesh. episc apud Leibuit., tom. i. Script. Brunsvic, p. 444. I am indebted to Du Cange for this reference. [45] King's Munimenta Antiqua. Stevenson's Suppl. to Bentham, p. 64. [46] Matt Paris, p. 51. [47] Warton's Hist. Eng. Poetry, p. cxiv. Regest. Nig. St. Edmund. Abbat. [48] Stevenson's Sup. to Bentham's Church of Norwich, 4to. 1817, p. 51. [49] Martene de Ant. Eccl. Ritib., cap. xxi. tom. iii. p. 263. [50] _Ibid._ [51] Alcuini Opera, tom. ii. vol. i. p. 211. Carmin xvii. [52] Preface to Ælfric's Homilies MS. Lansdowne, No. 373, vol. iv. in the British Museum. [53] Const. Can. Reg. ap. Martene, tom. iii. p. 263. [54] MS. Harl. 6395, anecdote 348.--I am indebted to D'Israeli for the reference, but not for the extract. [55] The monks were strictly enjoined by the monastic rules to study the Bible unceasingly. The Statutes of the Dominican order are particularly impressive on this point, and enforce a constant reading and critical study of the sacred volume, so as to fortify themselves for disputation; they were to peruse it continually, and apply to it before all other reading _semper ante aliam lectionem_. _Martene Thesan. Nov. Anecdot._, tom. iv. col. 1932. See also cols. 1789, 1836, 1912, 1917, 1934. [56] About the year 1225 Roger de Insula, Dean of York, gave several copies of the bible to the University of Oxford, and ordered that those who borrowed them for perusal should deposit property of equal value as a security for their safe return.--_Wood's Hist. Antiq. Oxon._ ii. 48. [57] Muratori Dissert. Quadragesima tertia, vol. iii. column 849. [58] Astle's Origin of Writing, p. 193.--See also Montfaucon Palæographia Græca, lib. iv. p. 263 et 319. [59] In the year 1300 the pay of a common scribe was about one half-penny a day, see Stevenson's Supple. to Bentham's Hist. of the Church of Ely. p. 51. [60] In some orders the monks were not allowed to sell their books without the express permission of their superiors. According to a statute of the year 1264 the Dominicans were strictly prohibited from selling their books or the rules of their order.--_Martene Thesaur. Nov. Anecdot._ tom. iv. col. 1741, et col. 1918. [61] Vita Abbat. Wear. Ed. Ware, p. 26. His fine copy of the Cosmographers he bought at Rome.--_Roma Benedictus emerat._ [62] Nosti quot Scriptores in Urbibus aut in Agris Italiæ passim habeantur.--Ep. cxxx. See also Ep. xliv. where he speaks of having purchased books in Italy, Germany and Belgium, at considerable cost. It is the most interesting Bibliomanical letter in the whole collection. [63] Cottonian MS. in the Brit. Mus.--_Claudius_, E. iv. fo. 105, b. [64] Epist. lxxi. p. 124, Edit. 4to. His words are--"Cum Dominus Rex Anglorum me nuper ad Dominum Regum Francorum nuntium distinasset, libri Legum venales Parisius oblati sunt mihi ab illo B. publico mangone librorum: qui cum ad opus cujusdam mei nepotis idoner viderentur conveni cum eo de pretio et eos apud venditorem dismittens, ei pretium numeravi; superveniente vero C. Sexburgensi Præposito sicut audini, plus oblulit et licitatione vincens libros de domo venditories per violentiam absportauit." [65] Chevillier, Origines de l'Imprimerie de Paris, 4to. 1694, p. 301. [66] "Actes concernant le pouvoir et la direction de l'Université de Paris sur les Ecrivains de Livres et les Imprimeurs qui leur ont succédé comme aussi sur les Libraires Relieurs et Enlumineurs," 4to. 1652, p. 44. It is very rare, a copy was in Biblioth. Teller, No. 132, p. 428. A statute of 1275 is given by Lambecii Comment. de Augus. Biblioth. Cæsarea Vendobon, vol. ii. pp. 252-267. The booksellers are called "Stationarii or Librarii;" _de Stationariis, sive Librariis ut Stationarus, qui vulgo appellantur_, etc. See also _Du Cange_, vol. vi. col. 716. [67] Chevillier, p. 301, to whom I am deeply indebted in this branch of my inquiry. [68] Hist. Lit. de la France, tom. ix. p. 84. Chevillier, p. 302. [69] The form of oath is given in full in the statute of 1323, and in that of 1342, Chevillier. [70] Du Breuil, Le Théâtre des Antiq. de Paris, 4to. 1612, p. 608. [71] _Ibid._, Hist. Lit. de la France, tom. ix. p. 84. [72] Chevillier, p. 303. [73] Martene Anecd. tom. i. p. 502. Hist. Lit. de la France, ix. p. 142. [74] Chevillier, 319, who gives a long list, printed from an old register of the University. [75] Chevillier, 303. [76] Vet. Stat. Universit. Oxoniæ, D. fol. 75. Archiv. Bodl. [77] The Church of Norwich paid £22, 9s. for illuminating a Graduale and Consuetudinary in 1374. [78] Isidore Orig., cap. ii.--Jerome, in his Preface to Job, writes, "_Habeant qui volunt veteres libros, vel in membranes purpurus auro argentique colore purpuros aurum liquiscit in literis._" Eddius Stephanus in his Life of St. Wilfrid, cap xvi., speaks of "Quatuor Evangeliæ de auro purissimo in membranis de purpuratis coloratis pro animæ suæ remidis scribere jusset." Du Cange, vol. iv. p. 654. See also Mabillon Act. Sanct., tom. v. p. 110, who is of opinion that these purple MSS. were only designed for princes; see Nouveau Traité de Diplomatique, and Montfaucon Palæog. Græc., pp. 45, 218, 226, for more on this subject. [79] See a Fragment in the Brit. Mus. engraved in Shaw's Illuminated Ornaments, plate 1. [80] Middle Ages, vol. ii. p. 437. Mr. Maitland, in his "Dark Ages," enters into a consideration of this matter with much critical learning and ingenuity. [81] D'Israeli Amenities of Lit., vol. i. p. 358. [82] The Precentor's accounts of the Church of Norwich contain the following items:--1300, 5 _dozen parchment_, 2_s._ 6_d._, 40 lbs. of ink, 4_s._ 4_d._, 1 gallon of vini decrili, 3_s._, 4 lbs. of corporase, 4 lbs. of galls, 2 lbs. of gum arab, 3_s._ 4_d._, to make ink. I dismiss these facts with the simple question they naturally excite: that if parchment was so _very scarce_, what on earth did the monk want with all this ink? [83] Leonardi Aretini Epist. 1. iv. ep. v. [84] Mehi Præfatio ad vit Ambrosii Traversarii, p. xxxix. [85] Mehi Præf., pp. xlviii.--xlix. [86] A MS. containing five books of Tacitus which had been deemed lost was found in Germany during the pontificate of Leo X., and deposited in the Laurentian library at Florence.--_Mehi Præf._ p. xlvii. See Shepard's Life of Poggio, p. 104, to whom I am much indebted for these curious facts. [87] Shepard's Life of Poggio, p. 101. CHAPTER IV. _Canterbury Monastery.--Theodore of Tarsus.--Tatwine.--Nothelm.--St. Dunstan.--Ælfric.--Lanfranc.--Anselm.--St. Augustine's books.--Henry de Estria and his Catalogue.--Chiclely.--Sellinge.--Rochester.--Gundulph, a Bible Student.--Radulphus.--Ascelin of Dover.--Glanvill, etc._ In the foregoing chapters I have endeavored to give the reader an insight into the means by which the monks multiplied their books, the opportunities they had of obtaining them, the rules of their libraries and scriptoria, and the duties of a monkish librarian. I now proceed to notice some of the English monastic libraries of the middle ages, and by early records and old manuscripts inquire into their extent, and revel for a time among the bibliomaniacs of the cloisters. On the spot where Christianity--more than twelve hundred years ago--first obtained a permanent footing in Britain, stands the proud metropolitan cathedral of Canterbury--a venerable and lasting monument of ancient piety and monkish zeal. St. Augustine, who brought over the glad tidings of the Christian faith in the year 596, founded that noble structure on the remains of a church which Roman Christians in remote times had built there. To write the literary history of its old monastery would spread over more pages than this volume contains, so many learned and bookish abbots are mentioned in its monkish annals. Such, however, is beyond the scope of my present design, and I have only to turn over those ancient chronicles to find how the love of books flourished in monkish days; so that, whilst I may here and there pass unnoticed some ingenious author, or only casually remark upon his talents, all that relate to libraries or book-collecting, to bibliophiles or scribes, I shall carefully record; and, I think, from the notes now lying before me, and which I am about to arrange in something like order, the reader will form a very different idea of monkish libraries than he previously entertained. The name that first attracts our attention in the early history of Canterbury Church is that of Theodore of Tarsus, the father of Anglo-Saxon literature, and certainly the first who introduced bibliomania into this island; for when he came on his mission from Rome in the year 668 he brought with him an extensive library, containing many Greek and Latin authors, in a knowledge of which he was thoroughly initiated. Bede tells us that he was well skilled in metrical art, astronomy, arithmetic, church music, and the Greek and Latin languages.[88] At his death[89] the library of Christ Church Monastery was enriched by his valuable books, and in the time of old Lambarde some of them still remained. He says, in his quaint way, "The Reverend Father Mathew, nowe Archbishop of Canterburie, whose care for the conservation of learned monuments can never be sufficiently commended, shewed me, not long since, the Psalter of David, and sundrie homilies in Greek; Homer also and some other Greeke authors beautifully wrytten on thicke paper, with the name of this Theodore prefixed in the fronte, to whose librarie he reasonably thought, being thereto led by shew of great antiquitie that they sometimes belonged."[90] Tatwine was a great book lover, if not a bibliomaniac. "He was renowned for religious wisdom, and notably learned in Sacred Writ."[91] If he wrote the many pieces attributed to him, his pen must have been prolific and his reading curious and diversified. He is said to have composed on profane and sacred subjects, but his works were unfortunately destroyed by the Danish invaders, and a book of poems and one of enigmas are all that have escaped their ravages. The latter work, preserved in our National Library, contains many curious hints, illustrative of the manners of those remote days.[92] Nothelm, or the Bold Helm, succeeded this interesting author; he was a learned and pious priest of London. The bibliomaniac will somewhat envy the avocation of this worthy monk whilst searching over the rich treasures of the Roman archives, from whence he gleaned much valuable information to aid Bede in compiling his history of the English Church.[93] Not only was he an industrious scribe but also a talented author, if we are to believe Pits, who ascribes to him several works, with a Life of St. Augustine.[94] It is well known that St. Dunstan was an ingenious scribe, and so passionately fond of books, that we may unhesitatingly proclaim him a bibliomaniac. He was a native of Wessex, and resided with his father near Glastonbury Abbey, which holy spot many a legendary tale rendered dear to his youthful heart. He entered the Abbey, and devoted his whole time to reading the wondrous lives and miracles of ascetic men till his mind became excited to a state of insanity by the many marvels and prodigies which they unfolded; so that he acquired among the simple monks the reputation of one holding constant and familiar intercourse with the beings of another world. On his presentation to the king, which was effected by the influence of his uncle Athelm, Archbishop of Canterbury, he soon became a great favorite, but excited so much jealousy there, that evil reports were industriously spread respecting him. He was accused of practising magical arts and intriguing with the devil. This induced him to retire again into the seclusion of a monastic cell, which he constructed so low that he could scarcely stand upright in it. It was large enough, however, to hold his forge and other apparatus, for he was a proficient worker in metals, and made ornaments, and bells for his church. He was very fond of music, and played with exquisite skill upon the harp.[95] But what is more to our purpose, his biographer tells us that he was remarkably skilful in writing and illuminating, and transcribed many books, adorning them with beautiful paintings, whilst in this little cell.[96] One of them is preserved in the Bodleian Library at Oxford. On the front is a painting of St. Dunstan kneeling before our Saviour, and at the top is written "_Pictura et Scriptura hujus pagine subtas visi est de propria manu sei Dunstani_."[97] But in the midst of these ingenious pursuits he did not forget to devote many hours to the study of the Holy Scriptures, as also to the diligent transcription and correction of copies of them,[98] and thus arming himself with the sacred word, he was enabled to withstand the numerous temptations which surrounded him. Sometimes the devil appeared as a man, and at other times he was still more severely tempted by the visitations of a beautiful woman, who strove by the most alluring blandishments to draw that holy man from the paths of Christian rectitude. In the tenth century such eminent virtues could not pass unrewarded, and he was advanced to the Archbishopric of Canterbury in the year 961, but his after life is that of a saintly politician, and displays nothing that need be mentioned here. In the year 969,[99] Ælfric, abbot of St. Alban's, was elected archbishop of Canterbury. His identity is involved in considerable doubt by the many contemporaries who bore that name, some of whom, like him, were celebrated for their talent and erudition; but, leaving the solution of this difficulty to the antiquarian, we are justified in saying that he was of noble family, and received his education under Ethelwold, at Abingdon, about the year 960. He accompanied his master to Winchester, and Elphegus, bishop of that see, entertained so high an opinion of Ælfric's learning and capacity, that he sent him to superintend the recently founded monastery of Cerne, in Devonshire. He there spent all his hours, unoccupied by the duties of his abbatical office, in the transcription of books and the nobler avocations of an author. He composed a Latin Grammar, a work which has won for him the title of "_The Grammarian_," and he greatly helped to maintain the purity of the Christian church by composing a large collection of homilies, which became exceedingly popular during the succeeding century, and are yet in existence. The preface to these homilies contain several very curious passages illustrative of the mode of publication resorted to by the monkish authors, and on that account I am tempted to make the following extracts: "I, Ælfric, the scholar of Ethelwold, to the courteous and venerable Bishop Sigeric, in the Lord. "Although it may appear to be an attempt of some rashness and presumption, yet have I ventured to translate this book out of the Latin writers, especially those of the 'Holy Scriptures,' into our common language; for the edification of the ignorant, who only understand this language when it is either read or heard. Wherefore I have not used obscure or unintelligible words, but given the plain English. By which means the hearts, both of the readers and of the hearers, may be reached more easily; because they are incapable of being otherwise instructed, than in their native tongue. Indeed, in our translation, we have not ever been so studious to render word for word, as to give the true sense and meaning of our authors. Nevertheless, we have used all diligent caution against deceitful errors, that we may not be found seduced by any heresy, nor blinded by any deceit. For we have followed these authors in this translation, namely, St. Austin of Hippo, St. Jerome, Bede, Gregory, Smaragdus, and sometimes Haymo, whose authority is admitted to be of great weight with all the faithful. Nor have we only expounded the treatise of the gospels;... but have also described the passions and lives of the saints, for the use of the unlearned of this nation. We have placed forty discourses in this volume, believing this will be sufficient for one year, if they be recited entirely to the faithful, by the ministers of the Lord. But the other book which we have now taken in hand to compose will contain those passions or treatises which are omitted in this volume." ... "Now, if any one find fault with our translation, that we have not always given word for word, or that this translation is not so full as the treatise of the authors themselves, or that in handling of the gospels we have run them over in a method not exactly conformable to the order appointed in the church, let him compose a book of his own; by an interpretation of deeper learning, as shall best agree with his understanding, this only I beseech him, that he may not pervert this version of mine, which I hope, by the grace of God, without any boasting, I have, according to the best of my skill, performed with all diligence. Now, I most earnestly entreat your goodness, my most gentle father Sigeric, that you will vouchsafe to correct, by your care, whatever blemishes of malignant heresy, or of dark deceit, you shall meet with in my translation, and then permit this little book to be ascribed to your authority, and not to the meanness of a person of my unworthy character. Farewell in the Almighty God continually. Amen."[100] I have before alluded to the care observed by the scribes in copying their manuscripts, and the moderns may deem themselves fortunate that they did so; for although many interpolations, or emendations, as they called them, occur in monkish transcripts, on the whole, their integrity, in this respect, forms a redeeming quality in connexion with their learning. In another preface, affixed to the second collection of his homilies, Ælfric thus explains his design in translating them: "Ælfric, a monk and priest, although a man of less abilities than are requisite for one in such orders, was sent, in the days of King Æthelred, from Alphege, the bishop and successor of Æthelwold, to a monastery which is called Cernel, at the desire of Æthelmer, the Thane, whose noble birth and goodness is everywhere known. Then ran it in my mind, I trust, through the grace of God, that I ought to translate this book out of the Latin tongue into the English language not upon presumption of great learning, but because I saw and heard much error in many English books, which ignorant men, through their simplicity, esteemed great wisdom, and because it grieved me that they neither knew, nor had the gospel learning in their writing, except from those men that understood Latin, and those books which are to be had of King Alfred's, which he skilfully translated from Latin into English."[101] From these extracts we may gain some idea of the state of learning in those days, and they would seem, in some measure, to justify the opinion, that the laity paid but little attention to such matters, and I more anxiously present the reader with these scraps, because they depict the state of literature in those times far better than a volume of conjecture could do. It is not consistent with my design to enter into an analysis of these homilies. Let the reader, however, draw some idea of their nature from the one written for Easter Sunday, which has been deemed sufficient proof that the Saxon Church ever denied the Romish doctrine of transubstantiation; for he there expressly states, in terms so plain that all the sophistry of the Roman Catholic writers cannot pervert its obvious meaning, that the bread and wine is only typical of the body and blood of our Saviour. To one who has spent much time in reading the lives and writings of the monkish theologians, how refreshing is such a character as that of Ælfric's. Often, indeed, will the student close the volumes of those old monastic writers with a sad, depressed, and almost broken heart; so often will he find men who seem capable of better things, who here and there breathe forth all the warm aspirations of a devout and Christian heart, bowed down and grovelling in the dust, as it were, to prove their blind submission to the Pope, thinking, poor fellows!--for from my very heart I pity them--that by so doing they were preaching that humility so acceptable to the Lord. Cheering then, to the heart it is to find this monotony broken by such an instance, and although we find Ælfric occasionally diverging into the paths of papistical error, he spreads a ray of light over the gloom of those Saxon days, and offers pleasing evidence that Christ never forsook his church; that even amidst the peril and darkness of those monkish ages there were some who mourned, though it might have been in a monastery, submissive to a Roman Pontiff, the depravity and corruption with which the heart of man had marred it. To still better maintain the discipline of the church, he wrote a set of canons, which he addressed to Wulfin, or Wulfsine, bishop of Sherbourne. With many of the doctrines advocated therein, the protestant will not agree; but the bibliophile will admit that he gave an indication of his love of books by the 21st Canon, which directs that, "Before a priest can be ordained, he must be armed with the sacred books, for the spiritual battle, namely, a Psalter, Book of Epistles, Book of Gospels, the Missal Book, Books of Hymns, the Manual, or Euchiridion, the Gerim, the Passional, the Pænitential, and the Lectionary, or Reading Book; these the diligent priest requires, and let him be careful that they are all accurately written, and free from faults."[102] About the same time, Ælfric wrote a treatise on the Old and New Testaments, and in it we find an account of his labors in Biblical Literature. He did more in laying open the holy mysteries of the gospel to the perusal of the laity, by translating them into the Saxon tongue, than any other before him. He gave them, in a vernacular version, the Pentateuch, Joshua, Judges, Esther, Job, Judith, two Books of Maccabees, and a portion of the Book of Kings, and it is for these labors, above all others, that the bible student will venerate his name, but he will look, perhaps, anxiously, hopefully, to these early attempts at Bible propagation, and expect to observe the ecclesiastical orders, at least, shake off a little of their absurd dependence on secondary sources for biblical instruction. But, no; they still sadly clung to traditional interpretation; they read the Word of God mystified by the fathers, good men, many of them, devout and holy saints, but why approach God through man, when we have His own prescription, in sweet encouraging words, to come, however humble or lowly we may be, to His throne, and ask with our own lips for those blessings so needful for the soul. Ælfric, in a letter addressed to Sigwerd, prefixed to his Treatise on the Old and New Testament, thus speaks of his biblical labors: "Abbot Elfricke greeteth friendly, Sigwerd at last Heolon. True it is I tell thee that very wise is he who speaketh by his doings; and well proceedeth he doth with God and the world who furnisheth himselfe with good works. And very plaine it is in holy scripture, that holy men employed in well doing were in this world held in good reputation, and as saints now enjoy the kingdom of heaven, and the remembrance of them continueth for ever, because of their consent with God and relying on him, carelesse men who lead their life in all idleness and so end it, the memory of them is forgotten in holy writ, saving that the Old Testament records their ill deeds and how they were therefore comdemned. Thou hast oft entreated me for English Scripture .... and when I was with thee great mone thou madest that thou couldst get none of my writings. Now will I that thou have at least this little, since knowledge is so acceptable to thee, and thou wilt have it rather than be altogether without my books...... God bestoweth sevenfold grace on mankind, (whereof I have already written in another English Treatise,) as the prophet Isaiah hath recorded in the book of his prophesie." In speaking of the remaining books of the Pentateuch, he does so in a cursory manner, and excuses himself because he had "written thereof more at large." "The book which Moses wrote, called the book of Joshua, sheweth how he went with the people of Israel unto Abraham's country, and how he won it, and how the sun stood still while he got the victory, and how he divided the land; this book also I turned into English for prince Ethelverd, wherein a man may behold the great wonders of God really fulfilled." ...... "After him known it is that there were in the land certaine judges over Israel, who guided the people as it is written in the book of Judges ..... of this whoso hath desire to hear further, may read it in that English book which I translated concerning the same." ..... "Of the book of Kings, I have translated also some part into English," "the book of Esther, I briefly after my manner translated into English," and "The Widow Judith who overcame Holophernes, the Syrian General, hath her book also, among these, concerning her own victory and _Englished according to my skill for your example_, that ye men may also defend your country by force of arms, against the invasion of a foreign host." "Two books of Machabeus, to the glory of God, I have turned also into English, and so read them, you may if you please, for your instruction." And at the end we find him again admonishing the scribes to use the pen with faithfulness. "Whosoever," says he, "shall write out this book, let him write it according to the copy, and for God's love correct it, that it be not faulty, less he thereby be discredited, and I shent."[103] This learned prelate died on the 16th of November, 1006, after a life spent thus in the service of Christ and the cause of learning; by his will he bequeathed to the Abbey of St. Alban's, besides some landed possessions, his little library of books;[104] he was honorably buried at Abingdon, but during the reign of Canute, his bones were removed to Canterbury. Passing on a few years, we come to that period when a new light shone upon the lethargy of the Saxons; the learning and erudition which had been fostering in the snug monasteries of Normandy, hitherto silent--buried as it were--but yet fast growing to maturity, accompanied the sword of the Norman duke, and added to the glory of the conquering hero, by their splendid intellectual endowments. All this emulated and roused the Saxons from their slumber; and, rubbing their laziness away, they again grasped the pen with the full nerve and energy of their nature; a reaction ensued, literature was respected, learning prospered, and copious work flowed in upon the scribes; the crackling of parchment, and the din of controversy bespoke the presence of this revival in the cloisters of the English monasteries; books, the weapons spiritual of the monks, libraries, the magazines of the church militant were preserved, amassed, and at last deemed indispensable.[105] Such was the effect on our national literature of that gushing in of the Norman conquerors, so deeply imbued with learning, so polished, and withal so armed with classical and patristic lore were they. Foremost in the rank we find the learned Lanfranc, that patron of literature, that indefatigable scribe and anxious book collector, who was endowed with an erudition far more deep and comprehensive than any other of his day. He was born at Pavia, in 1005, and received there the first elements of his education;[106] he afterwards went to Bologna, and from thence to Avranches, where he undertook the education of many celebrated scholars of that century, and instructed them in sacred and secular learning, _in sacris et secularibus erudivi literis_.[107] Whilst proceeding on a journey to Rome he was attacked by some robbers, who maltreated and left him almost dead; in this condition he was found by some peasants who conveyed him to the monastery of Bec; the monks with their usual hospitable charity tended and so assiduously nourished him in his sickness, that on his recovery he became one of their fraternity. A few years after, he was appointed prior and founded a school there, which did immense service to literature and science; he also collected a great library which was renowned and esteemed in his day,[108] and he increased their value by a critical revisal of their text. He was well aware that in works so voluminous as those of the fathers, the scribes through so many generations could not be expected to observe an unanimous infallibility; but knowing too that even the most essential doctrines of the holy and catholic church were founded on patristical authority, he was deeply impressed with the necessity of keeping their writings in all their primitive integrity; an end so desirable, well repaid the tediousness of the undertaking, and he cheerfully spent much time in collecting and comparing codices, in studying their various readings or erasing the spurious interpolations, engendered by the carelessness or the pious frauds of monkish scribes.[109] He lavished his care in a similar manner on the Bible: considering the far distant period from which that holy volume has descended to us, it is astounding that the vicissitudes, the perils, the darkness of near eighteen hundred years, have failed to mar the divinity of that sacred book; not all the blunders of nodding scribes could do it, not all the monkish interpolations, or the cunning of sectarian pens could do it, for in all times the faithful church of Christ watched over it with a jealous care, supplied each erasure and expelled each false addition. Lanfranc was one of the most vigilant of these Scripture guards, and his own industry blest his church with the bible text, purified from the gross handmarks of human meddling. I learn, from the Benedictines of St. Maur, that there is still preserved in the Abbey of St. Martin de Sécz, the first ten conferences of Cassian corrected by the efficient hand of this great critical student, at the end of the manuscript these words are written, "_Hucusque ago Lanfrancus correxi_."[110] The works of St. Ambrose, on which he bestowed similar care, are preserved in the library of St. Vincent du Mans.[111] When he was promoted to the See of Canterbury, he brought with him a copious supply of books, and spread the influence of his learning over the English monasteries; but with all the cares inseparably connected with the dignity of Primate of England, he still found time to gratify his bookloving propensities, and to continue his critical labors; indeed he worked day and night in the service of the church, _servitio Ecclesiæ_, and in correcting the books which the scribes had written.[112] From the profusion of his library he was enabled to lend many volumes to the monks, so that by making transcripts, they might add to their own stores--thus we know that he lent to Paulen, Abbot of St. Albans, a great number, who kept his scribes hard at work transcribing them, and built a scriptorium for the transaction of these pleasing labors; but more of this hereafter. Anselm, too, was a renowned and book-loving prelate, and if his pride and haughtiness wrought warm dissensions and ruptures in the church, he often stole away to forget them in the pages of his book. At an early age he acquired this fondness for reading, and whilst engaged as a monkish student, he applied his mind to the perusal of books with wonderful perseverance, and when some favorite volume absorbed his attention, he could scarce leave it night or day.[113] Industry so indefatigable ensured a certain success, and he became eminent for his deep and comprehensive learning; his epistles bear ample testimony to his extensive reading and intimate acquaintance with the authors of antiquity;[114] in one of his letters he praises a monk named Maurice, for his success in study, who was learning _Virgil_ and some other old writers, under Arnulph the grammarian. All day long Anselm was occupied in giving wise counsel to those that needed it; and a great part of the night _pars maxima noctis_ he spent in correcting his darling volumes, and freeing them from the inaccuracies of the scribes.[115] The oil in the lamp burnt low, still that bibliomaniac studiously pursued his favorite avocation. So great was the love of book-collecting engrafted into his mind, that he omitted no opportunity of obtaining them--numerous instances occur in his epistles of his begging the loan of some volume for transcription;[116] in more than one, I think, he asks for portions of the Holy Scriptures which he was always anxious to obtain to compare their various readings, and to enable him with greater confidence to correct his own copies. In the early part of the twelfth century, the monks of Canterbury transcribed a vast number of valuable manuscripts, in which they were greatly assisted by monk Edwine, who had arrived at considerable proficiency in the calligraphical art, as a volume of his transcribing, in Trinity college, Cambridge, informs us;[117] it is a Latin Psalter, with a Saxon gloss, beautifully illuminated in gold and colors; at the end appears the figure of the monkish scribe, holding the pen in his hand to indicate his avocation, and an inscription extols his ingenuity in the art.[118] Succeeding archbishops greatly enriched the library at Canterbury. Hubert Walter, who was appointed primate in 1191, gave the proceeds of the church of Halgast to furnish books for the library;[119] and Robert Kildwardly, archbishop in 1272, a man of great learning and wisdom, a remarkable orator and grammarian, wrote a great number of books, and was passionately fond of collecting them.[120] I learn from Wanley, that there is a large folio manuscript in the library of Trinity Hall, Cambridge, written about the time of Henry V. by a monk of St. Augustine's Abbey, Canterbury, containing the history of Christ Church; this volume proves its author to have been something of a bibliophile, and that is why I mention it, for he gives an account of some books then preserved, which were sent over by Pope Gregory to St. Augustine; these precious volumes consisted of a Bible in two volumes, called "Biblia Gregorian," beautifully written, with some of the leaves tinted with purple and rose-color, and the capital letters rubricated. This interesting and venerable MS. so immediately connected with the first ages of the Christian church of Britain, was in existence in the time of James I., as we learn by a passage in a scarce tract entitled "A Petition Apologetical," addressed by the Catholics to his majesty, where, as a proof that we derive our knowledge of Scripture originally from the church of Rome; they say, "The very original Bible, the self-same _Numero_ which St. Gregory sent in with our apostle, St. Augustine, being as yet reserved by God's special providence, as testimony that what Scriptures we have, we had them from Rome."[121] He next mentions two Psalters, one of which I have seen; it is among the manuscripts in the Cotton collection,[122] and bears full evidence of its great antiquity. This early gem of biblical literature numbers 160 folios; it contains the Roman Psalter, with a Saxon interlinear translation, written on stout vellum, in a clear, bold hand. On opening the volume, we find the first page enriched with a dazzling specimen of monkish skill--it is a painting of our Saviour pointing with his right hand to heaven, and in his left holding the sacred book; the corners are occupied with figures of animals, and the whole wrought on a glittering ground work, is rendered still more gorgeous by the contrast which the purple robes of Jesus display; on the reverse of this fine illumination there is a beautiful tesselated ornament, interwoven with animals, flowers, and grotesque figures, around which are miniatures of our Saviour, David, and some of the apostles. In a line at the bottom the word CATVSVIR is inscribed. Very much inferior to this in point of art is the illumination, at folio 31, representing David playing his harp, surrounded by a musical coterie; it is probably the workmanship of a more modern, but less skilful scribe of the Saxon school. The smaller ornaments and initial letters throughout the manuscript display great intricacy of design. The writer next describes two copies of the Gospels, both now in the Bodleian Collection at Oxford. A Passionarium Sanctorum, a book for the altar, on one side of which was the image of our Saviour wrought in gold, and lastly, an exposition of the Epistles and Gospels; the monkish bookworm tells us that these membraneous treasures were the most ancient books in all the churches of England.[123] A good and liberal monk, named Henry De Estria, who was elected prior in the year 1285, devoted both his time and wealth to the interests of his monastery, and is said to have expended £900 in repairing the choir and chapter-house.[124] He wrote a book beginning, "_Memoriale Henerici Prioris Monasteri Xpi Cantuariæ_,"[125] now preserved in the Cotton collection; it contains the most extensive monastic catalogue I had ever seen, and sufficiently proves how Bibliomania flourished in that noble monastery. It occupies no less than thirty-eight treble-columned folio pages, and contains the titles of more than three thousand works. To attempt to convey to the reader an idea of this curious and sumptuous library, without transcribing a large proportion of its catalogue, I am afraid will be a futile labor; but as that would occupy too much space, and to many of my readers be, after all, dry and uninteresting, I shall merely give the names of some of the most conspicuous. Years indeed it must have required to have amassed a collection so brilliant and superb in those days of book scarcity. Surprise and wonder almost surpass the admiration we feel at beholding this proud testimonial of monkish industry and early bibliomania. Many a choice scribe, and many an _Amator Librorum_ must have devoted his pen and purse to effect so noble an acquisition. Like most of the monastic libraries, it possessed a great proportion of biblical literature--copies of the Bible whole and in parts, commentaries on the same, and numerous glossaries and concordances show how much care the monks bestowed on the sacred writings, and how deeply they were studied in those old days. In patristic learning the library was unusually rich, embracing the most eminent and valuable writings of the Fathers, as may be seen by the following names, of whose works the catalogue enumerates many volumes: Augustine. Ambroise. Anselm. Alcuin. Aldelm. Benedict. Bernard. Bede. Beranger. Chrysostom. Eusebius. Fulgentius. Gregory. Hillarius. Isidore. Jerome. Lanfranc. Origen. Much as we may respect them for all this, our gratitude will materially increase when we learn how serviceable the monks of Canterbury were in preserving the old dead authors of Greece and Rome. We do not, from the very nature of their lives being so devoted to religion and piety, expect this; and knowing, too, what "heathen dogs" the monks thought these authors of idolatry, combined with our notion, that they, far from being the conservers, were the destroyers, of classic MSS., for the sake, as some tell us, of the parchment on which they were inscribed, we are somewhat staggered in our opinion to find in their library the following brilliant array of the wise men of the ancient world: Aristotle, Boethius, Cicero, Cassiodorus, Donatus, Euclid, Galen, Justin, Josephus, Lucan, Martial, Marcianus, Macrobius, Orosius, Plato, Priscian, Prosper, Prudentius, Suetonius, Sedulus, Seneca, Terence, Virgil, Etc., etc. Nor were they mere fragments of these authors, but, in many cases, considerable collections; of Aristotle, for instance, they possessed numerous works, with many commentaries upon him. Of Seneca a still more extensive and valuable one; and in the works of the eloquent Tully, they were also equally rich. Of his _Paradoxa, de Senectute, de Amiticia_, etc., and _his Offices_, they had more copies than one, a proof of the respect and esteem with which he was regarded. In miscellaneous literature, and in the productions of the middle age writers, the catalogue teems with an abundant supply, and includes: Rabanus Maurus, Thomas Aquinas, Peter Lombard, Athelard, William of Malmsbury, John of Salisbury, Girald Barry, Thomas Baldwin, Brutus, Robert Grosetete, Gerlandus, Gregory Nazianzen, History of England, Gesti Alexandri Magni, Hystoria Longobardos, Hystoriæ Scholasticæ, Chronicles _Latine et Anglice_, Chronographia Necephori. But I trust the reader will not rest satisfied with these few samples of the goodly store, but inspect the catalogue for himself. It would occupy, as I said before, too much space to enumerate even a small proportion of its many treasures, which treat of all branches of literature and science, natural history, medicine, ethics, philosophy, rhetoric, grammar, poetry, and music; each shared the studious attention of the monks, and a curious "_Liber de Astronomia_" taught them the rudiments of that sublime science, but which they were too apt to confound with its offspring, astrology, as we may infer, was the case with the monks of Canterbury, for their library contained a "_Liber de Astroloebus_," and the "Prophesies of Merlin." Many hints connected with the literary portion of a monastic life may sometimes be found in these catalogues. It was evidently usual at Christ Church Monastery to keep apart a number of books for the private study of the monks in the cloister, which I imagine they were at liberty to use at any time.[126] A portion of the catalogue of monk Henry is headed "_Lib. de Armariole Claustre_,"[127] under which it is pleasing to observe a Bible, in two volumes, specified as for the use of the infirmary, with devotional books, lives of the fathers, a history of England, the works of Bede, Isidore, Boethius, Rabanus Maurus, Cassiodorus, and many others of equal celebrity. In another portion of the manuscript, we find a list of their church books, written at the same time;[128] it affords a brilliant proof of the plentitude of the gospels among them; for no less than twenty-five copies are described. We may judge to what height the art of bookbinding had arrived by the account here given of these precious volumes. Some were in a splendid coopertoria of gold and silver, and others exquisitely ornamented with figures of our Saviour and the four Evangelists.[129] But this extravagant costliness rendered them attractive objects to pilfering hands, and somewhat accounts for the lament of the industrious Somner, who says that the library was "shamefully robbed and spoiled of them all."[130] Our remarks on the monastic library at Canterbury are drawing to a close. Henry Chiclely, archbishop in 1413, an excellent man, and a great promoter of learning, rebuilt the library of the church, and furnished it with many a choice tome.[131] His esteem for literature was so great, that he built two colleges at Oxford.[132] William Sellinge, who was a man of erudition, and deeply imbued with the book-loving mania, was elected prior in 1472. He is said to have studied at Bonania, in Italy; and, during his travels, he gathered together "all the ancient authors, both Greek and Latine, he could get," and returned laden with them to his own country. Many of them were of great rarity, and it is said that a Tully _de Republica_ was among them. Unfortunately, they were all burnt by a fire in the monastery.[133] I have said enough, I think, to show that books were eagerly sought after, and deeply appreciated, in Canterbury cloisters during the middle ages, and when the reader considers that these facts have been preserved from sheer accident, and, therefore, only enable us to obtain a partial glimpse of the actual state of their library, he will be ready to admit that bibliomania existed then, and will feel thankful, too, that it did, for to its influence, surely, we are indebted for the preservation of much that is valuable and instructive in history and general literature.[134] We can scarcely leave Kent without a word or two respecting the church of the Rochester monks. It was founded by King Ethelbert, who conferred upon it the dignities of an episcopal see, in the year 600; and, dedicating it to St. Andrew, completed the good work by many donations and emoluments. The revenues of the see were always limited, and it is said that its poverty caused it to be treated with kind forbearance by the ecclesiastical commissioners at the period of the Reformation. I have not been able to meet with any catalogue of its monastic library, and the only hints I can obtain relative to their books are such as may be gathered from the recorded donations of its learned prelates and monks. In the year 1077, Gundulph, a Norman bishop, who is justly celebrated for his architectural talents, rebuilt the cathedral, and considerable remains of this structure are still to be seen in the nave and west front, and display that profuse decoration united with ponderous stability, for which the Norman buildings are so remarkable. This munificent prelate also enriched the church with numerous and costly ornaments; the encouragement he gave to learning calls for some notice here. Trained in one of the most flourishing of the Norman schools, we are not surprised that in his early youth he was so studious and inquisitive after knowledge as to merit the especial commendation of his biographer.[135] William of Malmsbury, too, highly extols him "for his abundant piety," and tells us that he was not inexperienced in literary avocations; he was polished and courageous in the management of judicial affairs, and a close, devoted student of the divine writings;[136] as a scribe he was industrious and critical, and the great purpose to which he applied his patience and erudition was a careful revisal of the Holy Scriptures. He purged the sacred volume of the inadvertencies of the scribes, and restored the purity of the text; for transcribing after transcribing had caused some errors and diversity of readings to occur, between the English and foreign codices, in spite of all the pious care of the monastic copyists; this was perplexing, an uniformity was essential and he undertook the task;[137] labors so valuable deserve the highest praise, and we bestow it more liberally upon him for this good work than we should have done had he been the compiler of crude homilies or the marvellous legends of saints. The high veneration in which Gundulph held the patristic writings induced him to bestow his attention in a similar manner upon them, he compared copies, studied their various readings and set to work to correct them. The books necessary for these critical researches he obtained from the libraries of his former master, Bishop Lanfranc, St. Anselm, his schoolfellow, and many others who were studying at Bec, but besides this, he corrected many other authors, and by comparing them with ancient manuscripts, restored them to their primitive beauty. Fabricius[138] notices a fine volume, which bore ample testimony to his critical erudition and dexterity as a scribe. It is described as a large Bible on parchment, written in most beautiful characters, it was proved to be his work by this inscription on its title page, "_Prima pars Bibliæ per bona memoriæ Gundulphum Rossensem Episcopum_." This interesting manuscript, formerly in the library of the monks of Rochester, was regarded as one of their most precious volumes. An idea of the great value of a Bible in those times may be derived from the curious fact that the bishop made a decree directing "excommunication to be pronounced against whosoever should take away or conceal this volume, or who should even dare to conceal the inscription on the front, which indicated the volume to be the property of the church of Rochester." But we must bear in mind that this was no ordinary copy, it was transcribed by Gundulph's own pen, and rendered pure in its text by his critical labors. But the time came when anathemas availed nought, and excommunication was divested of all terror. "Henry the Eighth," the "Defender of the Faith," frowned destruction upon the monks, and in the tumult that ensued, this treasure was carried away, anathema and all. Somehow or other it got to Amsterdam, perhaps sent over in one of those "shippes full," to the bookbinders, and having passed through many hands, at last found its way into the possession of Herman Van de Wal, Burgomaster of Amsterdam; since then it was sold by public auction, but has now I believe been lost sight of.[139] Among the numerous treasures which Gundulph gave to his church, he included a copy of the Gospels, two missals and a book of Epistles.[140] Similar books were given by succeeding prelates; Radolphus, a Norman bishop in 1108, gave the monks several copies of the gospels beautifully adorned.[141] Earnulphus, in the year 1115, was likewise a benefactor in this way; he bestowed upon them, besides many gold and silver utensils for the church, a copy of the gospels, lessons for the principal days, a benedictional, or book of blessings, a missal, handsomely bound, and a capitular.[142] Ascelin, formerly prior of Dover, and made bishop of Rochester, in the year 1142, gave them a Psalter and the Epistles of St. Paul, with a gloss.[143] He was a learned man, and excessively fond of books; a passion which he had acquired no doubt in his monastery of Dover which possessed a library of no mean extent.[144] He wrote a commentary on Isaiah, and gave it to the monastery; Walter, archdeacon of Canterbury, who succeeded Ascelin, gave a copy of the gospels bound in gold, to the church;[145] and Waleran, elected bishop in the year 1182, presented them with a glossed Psalter, the Epistles of Paul, and the Sermons of Peter.[146] Glanvill, bishop in the year 1184, endeavored to deprive the monks of the land which Gundulph had bestowed upon them; this gave to rise to many quarrels[147] which the monks never forgave; it is said that he died without regret, and was buried without ceremony; yet the curious may still inspect his tomb on the north side of the altar, with his effigies and mitre lying at length upon it.[148] Glanvill probably repented of his conduct, and he strove to banish all animosity by many donations; and among other treasures, he gave the monks the five books of Moses and other volumes.[149] Osbern of Shepey, who was prior in the year 1189, was a great scribe and wrote many volumes for the library; he finished the Commentary of Ascelin, transcribed a history of Peter, a Breviary for the chapel, a book called _De Claustra animæ_, and wrote the great Psalter which is chained to the choir and window of St. Peter's altar.[150] Ralph de Ross, and Heymer de Tunebregge,[151] also bestowed gifts of a similar nature upon the monks; but the book anecdotes connected with this monastic fraternity are remarkably few, barren of interest, and present no very exalted idea of their learning.[152] FOOTNOTES: [88] Bede, iv. cap. ii. [89] He died in 690, and was succeeded by Bertwold, Abbot of Reculver, _Saxon Chronicle, Ingram_, p. 57. Bede speaks of Bertwold as "well learned in Scripture and Ecclesiastical Literature."--_Eccl. Hist._ b. v. c. viii. [90] Preambulation of Kent, 4to. 1576, p. 233. Parker's Ant. Brit. p. 80. [91] He was consecrated on the 10th of June, 731, Bede, v. c. xxiii. [92] M.S. Reg. 12, c. xxiii. I know of no other copy. Leland says that he saw a copy at Glastonbury. [93] Bede's Eccl. Hist. Prologue. [94] Pitseus Angliæ Scrip. 1619, p. 141. Dart's Hist. Canterbury, p. 102. [95] Cottonian MS. Cleopatra, B. xiii. fo. 70. [96] W. Malm, de Vita, Dunst. ap. Leland, Script. tom. 1. p. 162. Cotton. MS. Fanstin, B. 13. [97] Strutt's Saxon. Antiq. vol. 1, p. 105, plate xviii. See also Hicke's Saxon Grammar, p. 104. [98] MS. Cotton., Cleop. b. xiii. fo. 69. Mabd. Acta Sancto. vii. 663. [99] Saxon Chron. by Ingram, 171. [100] Landsdowne MS. in Brit. Mus. 373, vol. iv. [101] Landsdowne MS. in Brit. Mus. 373, vol. iv. [102] Can. 21, p. 577, vol. i. [103] Lisle's Divers Ancient Monuments in the Saxon Tongue, 4to. Lond. 1638, p. 43. [104] MS. Cottonian Claudius, b. vi. p. 103; Dart's Hist. of Cant. p. 112.; Dugdale's Monast., vol. i. p. 517. [105] There was an old saying, and a true one, prevalent in those days, that a monastery without a library was like a castle without an armory, _Clastrum sine armario, quasi castrum sine armamentario_. See letter of Gaufredi of St. Barbary to Peter Mangot, _Martene Thes. Nov. Anecd._, tom. i. col. 511. [106] Mabillon, Act. S., tom. ix. p. 659. [107] Ep. i. ad Papæ Alex. [108] Vita Lanfr., c. vi. "_Effulsit eo majistro, obedientia coactu, philosophicarum ac divinarum litterarum bibliotheca, etc._" Opera p. 8. Edit. folio, 1648. [109] "Et quia scripturæ scriptorum vitio erant ninium corruptæ, omnes tam Veteris, quam Novi Testamenti libros; necnon etiam scriptæ sanctorum patrum secundum orthodoxam fidem studuit corrigere." Vita Lanfr. cap. 15, ap. Opera, p. 15. [110] Hist. Litt. de la France, vol. vii. p. 117. [111] _Ibid._ "Il rendit de même service à trois écrits de S. Ambrose l'Hexameron, l'apologie de David et le traité des Sacrements, tels qu'on les voit à la bibliothèque de St. Vincent du Mans." [112] _Ibid._ [113] Malmsb. de Gest. Pontif. b. i. p. 216. [114] See Epist. 16. Lib. i. [115] Edmer. Vit. Anselm, apud Anselm Opera.--_Edit. Benedict_, 1721, b. i. p. 4. [116] Epp. 10-20, lib. i. and 24 b. ii. [117] Codic. fol. first class, a dextr. Sc. Med. 5. [118] Warton's Hist. Eng. Poetry. Dissert, ii. [119] Dart's Canterb. p. 132. Dugdale's Monast. vol. i. p. 85. [120] There is, or was, in St. Peter's college, Cambridge, a MS. volume of 21 books, which formerly belonged to this worthy Bibliophile.--_Dart_, p. 137. [121] Petition Apol. 4to. 1604, p. 17. [122] Brit. Mus. Vesp. A. i. [123] Wanley Librorum Vett Septentrionalium fol. Oxon, 1705, p. 172. [124] Dugdale's Monast. Angl. vol. i. p. 112. [125] MS. Cot. Galba. E. iv. [126] See what has been said on this subject in the previous chapter. [127] MS. Galla, E. iv. fol. 133. [128] MS. fol. 122. [129] _Textus Magnus auro coopertus et gemmis ornatus, cum majistate in media, et 4 Evangelistis in 4 Angulis. Ibid._ [130] Somner Antiq. Cant. 4to. 1640, p. 174, he is speaking of books in general. [131] Duck Vita Chich. p. 104. [132] Dugdale, vol. i. p. 86. Dart, p. 158, and Somner Ant. Cant. 174. [133] Somner, 294 and 295; see also Leland Scriptor. He was well versed in the Greek language, and his monument bears the following line: "Doctor theologus Selling Græca atque Latina, Linqua perdoctus."--See Warton's Hist. Poet., ii. p. 425. [134] There is a catalogue written in the sixteenth century, preserved among the Cotton MS., containing the titles of seventy books belonging to Canterbury Library. It is printed in Leland Collect. vol. iv. p. 120, and in Dart's Hist. Cant. Cath.; but they differ slightly from the Cott. MS. Julius, c. vi. 4, fol. 99. [135] Monachus Roffensis de Vita Gundulphi, 274. [136] Will. Malms. de Gest. Pont. Ang. ap Rerum. Ang. Script, 133. [137] Histoire Littéraire de Fr., tom. vii. p. 118. [138] Biblioth. Latine, b. vii. p. 519. [139] Hist. Litt. de Fr., tom. ix. p. 373. [140] Thorpe Regist. Roffens, fol. 1769, p. 118. [141] Wharton Angl. Sacr., tom. 1, p. 342. [142] Thorpe Regist. Rof., p. 120. Dugdale's Monast., vol. 1, p. 157. [143] Thorpe Reg. Rof., p. 121. [144] A catalogue of this library is preserved among the Bodleian MSS. No. 920, containing many fine old volumes. I am not aware that it has been ever printed. [145] "Textum Evangeliorum aureum." Reg. Rof., p. 121. [146] _Ibid._, p. 121. [147] Dugdale's Monasticon, vol. 1, p. 156. [148] Wharton's Ang. Sac, tom. 1, p. 346. [149] Thorpe Reg. Rof., p. 121. [150] Thorpe Reg. Rof., 121. Dugdale's Monast., vol. i. p. 158. [151] Reg. Rof., pp. 122, 123. [152] In a long list of gifts by Robert de Hecham, I find "librum Ysidore ethimologiarum possuit in armarium claustri et alia plura fecit."--_Thorpe Reg. Rof._, p. 123. CHAPTER V. _Lindesfarne.--St. Cuthbert's Gospels.--Destruction of the Monastery.--Alcuin's Letter on the occasion.--Removal to Durham.--Carelepho.--Catalogue of Durham Library.--Hugh de Pusar.--Anthony Bek.--Richard de Bury and his Philobiblon, etc._ The Benedictine monastery of Lindesfarne, or the Holy Island, as it was called, was founded through the instrumentality of Oswald, the son of Ethelfrith, king of Northumberland, who was anxious for the promulgation of the Christian faith within his dominions. Aidan, the first bishop of whom we have any distinct account, was appointed about the year 635. Bede tells us that he used frequently to retire to the Isle of Farne, that he might pray in private and be undisturbed.[153] This small island, distant about nine miles from the church of Lindesfarne, obtained great celebrity from St. Cuthbert, who sought that quiet spot and led there a lonely existence in great continence of mind and body.[154] In 685 he was appointed to the see of Lindesfarne, where, by his pious example and regular life, he instructed many in their religious duties. The name of this illustrious saint is intimately connected with a most magnificent specimen of calligraphical art of the eighth century, preserved in the British Museum,[155] and well known by the name of the Durham Book, or Saint Cuthbert's Gospels; it was written some years after the death of that Saint, in honor of his memory, by Egfrith, a monk of Lindesfarne, who was made bishop of that see in the year 698. At Egfrith's death in 721, his successor, Æthilwald, most beautifully bound it in gold and precious stones, and Bilfrid, a hermit, richly illuminated it by prefixing to each gospel a beautiful painting representing one of the Evangelists, and a tesselated cross, executed in a most elaborate manner. He also displayed great skill by illuminating the large capital letters at the commencement of each gospel.[156] Doubtless, the hermit Bilfrid was an eminent artist in his day. Aldred, the Glossator, a priest of Durham, about the year 950, still more enriched this precious volume by interlining it with a Saxon Gloss, or version of the Latin text of St. Jerome, of which the original manuscript is a copy.[157] It is therefore, one of the most venerable of those early attempts to render the holy scriptures into the vernacular tongue, and is on that account an interesting relic to the Christian reader, and, no doubt, formed the choicest volume in the library of Lindesfarne.[158] But imperfectly, indeed, have I described the splendid manuscript which is now lying, in all its charms, before me. And as I mark its fine old illuminations, so bright in color, and so chaste in execution, the accuracy of its transcription, and the uniform beauty of its calligraphy, my imagination carries me back to the quiet cloister of the old Saxon scribe who wrote it, and I can see in Egfrith, a bibliomaniac, of no mean pretensions, and in Bilfrid, a monkish illuminator, well initiated in the mysteries of his art. The manuscript contains 258 double columned folio pages, and the paintings of the Evangelists each occupy an entire page. We learn the history of its production from a very long note at the end of the manuscript, written by the hand of the glossator.[159] But sad misfortunes were in store for the holy monks, for about 793, or a little earlier, when Highbald was abbot, the Danes burnt down the monastery and murdered the ecclesiastics; "most dreadful lightnings and other prodigies," says Simeon of Durham, "are said to have portended the impending ruin of this place; on the 7th of June they came to the church of Lindesfarne, miserably plundered all places, overthrew the altars, and carried away all the treasures of the church, some of the monks they slew, some they carried away captives, some they drowned in the sea, and others much afflicted and abused they turned away naked."[160] Fortunately some of the poor monks escaped, and after a short time returned to their old spot, and with religious zeal set about repairing the damage which the sacred edifice had sustained; after its restoration they continued comparatively quiet till the time of Eardulfus, when the Danes in the year 875, again invaded England and burned down the monastery of Lindesfarne. The monks obtained some knowledge of their coming and managed to effect their escape, taking with them the body of St. Cuthbert, which they highly venerated, with many other honored relics; they then set out with the bishop Eardulfus and the abbot Eadrid at their head on a sort of pilgrimage to discover some suitable resting place for the remains of their saint; but finding no safe locality, and becoming fatigued by the irksomeness of the journey, they as a last resource resolved to pass over to Ireland. For this purpose they proceeded to the sea, but no sooner were they on board the ship than a terrific storm arose, and had it not been for the fond care of their patron saint, a watery grave would have been forever their resting place; but, as it was, their lives were spared, and the holy bones preserved to bless mankind, and work wondrous miracles in the old church of the Saxon monks. Nevertheless, considerable damage was sustained, and the fury of the angry waves forced them back again to the shore. The monks deeming this an indication of God's will that they should remain, decided upon doing so, and leaving the ship, they agreed to proceed on their way rejoicing, and place still greater trust in the mercy of God and the miraculous influence of St. Cuthbert's holy bones; but some whose reliance on Divine providence appears not so conspicuous, became dissatisfied, and separated from the rest till at last only seven monks were left besides their bishop and abbot. Their relics were too numerous and too cumbersome to be conveyed by so small a number, and they knew not how to proceed; but one of the seven whose name was Hanred had a vision, wherein he was told that they should repair to the sea, where they would find a book of Gospels adorned with gold and precious stones, which had been lost out of the ship when they were in the storm; and that after that he should see a bridle hanging on a tree, which he should take down and put upon a horse that would come to him, which horse he should put to a cart he would also find, to carry the holy body, which would be an ease to them. All these things happening accordingly, they travelled with more comfort, following the horse, which way soever he should lead. The book above mentioned was no ways damaged by the water, and is still preserved in the library at Durham,[161] where it remained till the Reformation, when it was stript of its jewelled covering, and after passing through many hands, ultimately came into the possession of Sir Robert Cotton, in whose collection, as we have said before, it is now preserved in the British Museum. I cannot refrain, even at the risk of incurring some blame for my digression, presenting the reader with a part of a letter full of fraternal love, which Alcuin addressed to the monks of Lindesfarne on this sad occasion. "Your dearest fraternity," says he, "was wont to afford me much joy. But now how different! though absent, I deeply lament the more your tribulations and calamities; the manner in which the Pagans contaminate the sanctuaries of God, and shed the blood of saints around the altar, devastating the joy of our house, and trampling on the bodies of holy men in the temple of God, as though they were treading on a dunghill in the street. But of what effect is our wailing unless we come before the altars of Christ and cry, 'Spare me, O Lord! spare thy people, and take not thine inheritance from them;' nor let the Pagans say, 'Where is the God of the Christians?' Besides who is to pacify the churches of Britain, if St. Cuthbert cannot defend them with so great a number of saints? Nevertheless do not trouble the mind about these things, for God chasteneth all the sons whom he receiveth, and therefore perhaps afflicts you the more, because he the more loveth you. Jerusalem, the delightful city of God, was lost by the Chaldean scourge; and Rome, the city of the holy Apostles and innumerable martyrs, was surrounded by the Pagans and devastated. Well nigh the whole of Europe is evacuated by the scourging sword of the Goths or the Huns. But in the same manner in which God preserved the stars to illuminate the heavens, so will He preserve the churches to ornament, and in their office to strengthen and increase the Christian religion."[162] Thus it came to pass that Eardulphus was the last bishop of Lindesfarne and the first of Cunecacestre, or Chester-upon-the-Street, to which place his see was removed previous to its final settlement at Durham. After a succession of many bishops, some recorded as learned and bookish by monkish annalists, and nearly all benefactors in some way to their church, we arrive at the period when Aldwine was consecrated bishop of that see in the year 990. The commotions of his time made his presidency a troubled and harassing one. Sweyn, king of Denmark, and Olauis, king of Norway, invaded England, and spreading themselves in bodies over the kingdom, committed many and cruel depredations; a strong body of these infested the northern coast, and approached the vicinity of Chester-on-the-Street. This so alarmed Aldwine, that he resolved to quit his church--for the great riches and numerous relics of that holy place were attractive objects to the plundering propensities of the invaders. Carrying, therefore, the bones of St. Cuthbert with them--for that box of mortal dust was ever precious in the sight of those old monks--and the costly treasures of the church, not forgetting their books, the monks fled to Ripon, and the see, which after similar adversities their predecessors one hundred and thirteen years ago had settled at Chester, was forever removed. It is true three or four months after, as Symeon of Durham tells us, they attempted to return, but when they reached a place called Werdelan, "on the east and near unto Durham," they could not move the bier on which the body of St. Cuthbert was carried, although they applied their united strength to effect it. The superstition, or perhaps simplicity, of the monks instantly interpreted this into a manifestation of divine interference, and they resolved not to return again to their old spot. And we are further told that after three days' fasting and prayer, the Lord vouchsafed to reveal to them that they should bear the saintly burden to Durham, a command which they piously and cheerfully obeyed. Having arrived there, they fixed on a wild and uncultivated site, and making a simple oratory of wattles for the temporary reception of their relics, they set zealously to work--for these old monks well knew what labor was--to cut down wood, to clear the ground, and build an habitation for themselves. Shortly after, in the wilderness of that neglected spot, the worthy bishop Aldwine erected a goodly church of stone to the honor of God, and as a humble tribute of gratitude and love; and so it was that Aldwine, the last bishop of Chester-on-the-Street, was the first of Durham. When William Carelepho, a Norman monk, was consecrated bishop, the church had so increased in wealth and usefulness, that fresh wants arose, more space was requisite, and a grander structure would be preferable; the bishop thereupon pulled the old church of Aldwine down and commenced the erection of a more magnificent one in its place, as the beauty of Durham cathedral sufficiently testifies even now; and will not the lover of artistic beauty award his praise to the Norman bishop--those massive columns and stupendous arches excite the admiring wonder of all; built on a rocky eminence and surrounded by all the charms of a romantic scenery, it is one of the finest specimens of architecture which the enthusiasm of monkish days dedicated to piety and to God. Its liberal founder however did not live to see it finished, for he died in the year 1095, two years after laying its foundation stone. His bookloving propensities have been honorably recorded, and not only was he fond of reading, but kept the pens of the scribes in constant motion, and used himself to superintend the transcription of manuscripts, as the colophon of a folio volume in Durham library fully proves.[163] The monkish bibliophiles of his church received from him a precious gift of about 40 volumes, containing among other valuable books Prosper, Pompeii, Tertullian, and a great Bible in two volumes.[164] It would have been difficult perhaps to have found in those days a body of monks so "bookish" as those of Durham; not only did they transcribe with astonishing rapidity, proving that there was no want of vellum there, but they must have bought or otherwise collected a great number of books; for the see of Durham, in the early part of the 12th century, could show a library embracing nearly 300 volumes.[165] Nor let the reader imagine that the collection possessed no merit in a literary point of view, or that the monks cared for little else save legends of saints or the literature of the church; the catalogue proves them to have enjoyed a more liberal and a more refined taste, and again display the cloistered students of the middle ages as the preservers of classic learning. This is a point worth observing on looking over the old parchment catalogues of the monks; for as by their Epistles we obtain a knowledge of their intimacy with the old writers, and the use they made of them, so by their catalogues we catch a glimpse of the means they possessed of becoming personally acquainted with their beauties; by the process much light may be thrown on the gloom of those long past times, and perhaps we shall gain too a better view of the state of learning existing then. But that the reader may judge for himself, I extract the names of some of the writers whom the monks of Durham preserved and read: Alcuin. Ambrose. Aratores. Anselm. Augustine. Aviany. Bede. Boethius. Bernard. Cassian. Cassiodorus. Claudius. Cyprian. Donatus. Esop. Eutropius. Galen. Gregory. Haimo. Horace. Homer. Hugo. Juvenal. Isidore. Josephus. Lucan. Marcianus. Maximian. Orosius. Ovid. Prudentius. Prosper. Persius. Priscian. Peter Lombard. Plato. Pompeius Trogus. Quintilian. Rabanus. Solinus. Servius. Statius. Terence. Tully. Theodulus. Virgil. Gesta Anglorum. Gesta Normanorum. Hugh de Pussar,[166] consecrated bishop in 1153, is the next who attracts our attention by his bibliomanical renown. He possessed perhaps the finest copy of the Holy Scriptures of any private collector; and he doubtless regarded his "_unam Bibliam in_ iv. _magnis voluminibus_," with the veneration of a divine and the fondness of a student. He collected what in those times was deemed a respectable library, and bequeathed no less than sixty or seventy volumes to the Durham monks, including his great Bible, which has ever since been preserved with religious care; from a catalogue of them we learn his partiality for classical literature; a Tully, Sedulus, Priscian, and Claudius, are mentioned among them.[167] Anthony Bek, who was appointed to the see in the year 1283, was a most ambitious and haughty prelate, and caused great dissensions in his church. History proves how little he was adapted for the responsible duties of a bishop, and points to the field of battle or civil pomp as most congenial to his disposition. He ostentatiously displayed the splendor of a Palatine Prince, when he contributed his powerful aid to the cause of his sovereign, in the Scottish war, by a retinue of 500 horse, 1000 foot, 140 knights, and 26 standard bearers,[168] rendered doubly imposing in those days of saintly worship and credulity, by the patronage of St. Cuthbert, under whole holy banner they marched against a brave and noble foe. His arbitrary temper caused sad quarrels in the cloister, which ultimately gave rise to a tedious law proceeding between him and the prior about the year 1300;[169] from a record of this affair we learn that the bishop had borrowed some books from the library which afterwards he refused to return; there was among them a Decretal, a history of England, a Missal, and a volume called "The book of St. Cuthbert, in which the secrets of the monastery are written," which was alone valued at £200,[170] probably in consideration of the important and delicate matters contained therein. These proceedings were instituted by prior Hoton, who was fond of books, and had a great esteem for learning; he founded a college at Oxford for the monkish students of his church.[171] On more than one occasion he sent parcels of books to Oxford; in a list of an early date it appears that the monks of Durham sent at one time twenty volumes, and shortly after fifteen more, consisting principally of church books and lives of saints.[172] The numbers thus taken from their library the monks, with that love of learning for which they were so remarkable, anxiously replaced, by purchasing about twenty volumes, many of which contained a great number of small but choice pieces.[173] Robert de Graystane, a monk of Durham, was elected bishop by the prior and chapter, and confirmed on the 10th of November, 1333, but the king, Edward III., wishing to advance his treasurer to that see, refused his sanction to the proceeding; monk Robert was accordingly deposed, and Richard Angraville received the mitre in his stead. He was consecrated on the 19th of December in the same year, by John Stratford, archbishop of Canterbury, and installed by proxy on the 10th of January, 1334. Angraville, Aungerville, or as he is more commonly called Richard de Bury, is a name which every bibliophile will honor and esteem; he was indeed a bibliomaniac of the first order, and a sketch of his life is not only indispensable here, but cannot fail to interest the book-loving reader. But before entering more at large into his bookish propensities and talents, it will be necessary to say something of his early days and the illustrious career which attended his political and ecclesiastical life. Richard de Bury, the son of Sir Richard Angraville, was born, as his name implies, at Bury St. Edmunds, in Suffolk, in the year 1287.[174] Great attention was paid to the instruction of his youthful mind by his maternal uncle, John de Willowby, a priest, previous to his removal to Oxford. At the university he obtained honorable distinction, as much for his erudition and love of books as for the moral rectitude of his behavior. These pleasing traits were the stepping stones to his future greatness, and on the strength of them he was selected as one fully competent to undertake the education of Edward Prince of Wales, afterwards the third king of that name; and to Richard de Bury "may be traced the love for literature and the arts displayed by his pupil when on the throne. He was rewarded with the lucrative appointment of treasurer of Gascony."[175] When Edward, the prince of Wales, was sent to Paris to assume the dominion of Guienne, which the king had resigned in his favor, he was accompanied by queen Isabella, his mother, whose criminal frailty, and afterwards conspiracy, with Mortimer, aroused the just indignation of her royal husband; and commenced those civil dissensions which rendered the reign of Edward II. so disastrous and turbulent. It was during these commotions that Richard de Bury became a zealous partizan of the queen, to whom he fled, and ventured to supply her pecuniary necessities from the royal revenues; for this, however, he was surrounded with imminent danger; for the king, instituting an inquiry into these proceedings, attempted his capture, which he narrowly escaped by secreting himself in the belfry of the convent of Brothers Minor at Paris.[176] When the "most invincible and most magnificent king" Edward III. was firmly seated upon the throne, dignity and power was lavishly bestowed on this early bibliomaniac. In an almost incredible space of time he was appointed cofferer to the king, treasurer of the wardrobe, archdeacon of Northampton, prebendary of Lincoln, Sarum, Litchfield, and shortly afterwards keeper of the privy seal, which office he held for five years. During this time he twice undertook a visit to Italy, on a mission to the supreme pontiff, John XXII., who not only entertained him with honor and distinction, but appointed him chaplain to his principal chapel, and gave him a bull, nominating him to the first vacant see in England. He acquired whilst there an honor which reflected more credit than even the smiles of his holiness--the brightest of the Italian poets, Petrarch of never dying fame--bestowed upon him his acquaintance and lasting friendship. De Bury entered Avignon for the first time in the same year that Petrarch took up his residence there, in the house of Colonna, bishop of Lombes: two such enlightened scholars and indefatigable book collectors, sojourning in the same city, soon formed an intimacy.[177] How interesting must their friendly meetings have been, and how delightful the hours spent in Petrarch's library, which was one of great extent and rarity; and it is probable too that De Bury obtained from the poet a few treasures to enrich his own stores; for the generosity of Petrarch was so excessive, that he could scarcely withhold what he knew was so dearly coveted. His benevolence on one occasion deprived him and posterity of an inestimable volume; he lent some manuscripts of the classics to his old master, who, needing pecuniary aid, pawned them, and Cicero's books, _De Gloria_, were in this manner irrecoverably lost.[178] Petrarch acted like a true lover of learning; for when the shadows of old age approached, he presented his library, full of rare and ancient manuscripts, many of them enriched by his own notes, to the Venetian Senate, and thus laid the foundation of the library of Saint-Marc; he always employed a number of transcribers, who invariably accompanied him on his journeys, and he kept horses to carry his books.[179] His love of reading was intense. "Whether," he writes in one of his epistles, "I am being shaved, or having my hair cut, whether I am riding on horseback or taking my meals, I either read myself or get some one to read to me; on the table where I dine, and by the side of my bed, I have all the materials for writing."[180] With the friendship of such a student, how charming must have been the visit of the English ambassador, and how much valuable and interesting information must he have gleaned by his intercourse with Petrarch and his books. At Rome Richard de Bury obtained many choice volumes and rare old manuscripts of the classics; for at Rome indeed, at that time, books had become an important article of commerce, and many foreign collectors besides the English bibliomaniac resorted there for these treasures: to such an extend was this carried on, that the jealousy of Petrarch was aroused, who, in addressing the Romans, exclaims: "Are you not ashamed that the wrecks of your ancient grandeur, spared by the inundation of the barbarians, are daily sold by your miscalculating avarice to foreigners? And that Rome is no where less known and less loved than at Rome?"[181] The immense ecclesiastical and civil revenues which Aungraville enjoyed, enabled him whilst in Italy to maintain a most costly and sumptuous establishment: in his last visit alone he is said to have expended 5,000 marks, and he never appeared in public without a numerous retinue of twenty clerks and thirty-six esquires; an appearance which better became the dignity of his civil office, than the Christian humility of his ecclesiastical functions. On his return from this distinguished sojourn, he was appointed, as we have said before, through the instrumentality of Edward III., to the bishopric of Durham. But not content with these high preferments, his royal master advanced him to still greater honor, and on the 28th of September, 1334, he was made Lord Chancellor of England, which office he filled till the 5th of June, 1335, when he exchanged it for that of high treasurer. He was twice appointed ambassador to the king of France, respecting the claims of Edward of England to the crown of that country. De Bury, whilst negociating this affair, visited Antwerp and Brabant for the furtherance of the object of his mission, and he fully embraced this rare opportunity of adding to his literary stores, and returned to his fatherland well laden with many choice and costly manuscripts; for in all his perilous missions he carried about with him, as he tells us, that love of books which many waters could not extinguish, but which greatly sweetened the bitterness of peregrination. Whilst at Paris he was especially assiduous in collecting, and he relates with intense rapture, how many choice libraries he found there full of all kinds of books, which tempted him to spend his money freely; and with a gladsome heart he gave his dirty lucre for treasures so inestimable to the bibliomaniac. Before the commencement of the war which arose from the disputed claims of Edward, Richard de Bury returned to enjoy in sweet seclusion his bibliomanical propensities. The modern bibliophiles who know what it is to revel in the enjoyment of a goodly library, luxuriant in costly bindings and rich in bibliographical rarities, who are fully susceptible to the delights and exquisite sensibilities of that sweet madness called bibliomania, will readily comprehend the multiplied pleasures of that early and illustrious bibliophile in the seclusion of Auckland Palace; he there ardently applied his energies and wealth to the accumulation of books; and whilst engaged in this pleasing avocation, let us endeavor to catch a glimpse of him. Chambre, to whom we are indebted for many of the above particulars, tells us that Richard de Bury was learned in the governing of his house, hospitable to strangers, of great charity, and fond of disputation with the learned, but he principally delighted in a multitude of books, _Iste summe delectabatur multitudine librorum_,[182] and possessed more books than all the bishops put together, an assertion which requires some modification, and must not be too strictly regarded, for book collecting at that time was becoming a favorite pursuit; still the language of Chambre is expressive, and clearly proves how extensive must have been his libraries, one of which he formed in each of his various palaces, _diversis maneriis_. So engrossed was that worthy bishop with the passion of book collecting, that his dormitory was strewed _jucebant_ with them, in every nook and corner choice volumes were scattered, so that it was almost impossible for any person to enter without placing his feet upon some book.[183] He kept in regular employment no small assemblage of antiquaries, scribes, bookbinders, correctors, illuminators, and all such persons who were capable of being useful in the service of books, _librorum servitiis utiliter_.[184] During his retirement he wrote a book, from the perusal of which the bibliomaniac will obtain a full measure of delight and instruction. It is a faithful record of the life and experience of this bibliophile of the olden time. He tells us how he collected his vellum treasures--his "crackling tomes" so rich in illuminations and calligraphic art!--how he preserved them, and how he would have others read them. Costly indeed must have been the book gems he amassed together; for foreign countries, as well as the scribes at home, yielded ample means to augment his stores, and were incessantly employed in searching for rarities which his heart yearned to possess. He completed his Philobiblon at his palace at Auckland on the 24th of January, 1344.[185] We learn from the prologue to this rare and charming little volume how true and genuine a bibliomaniac was Richard de Bury, for he tells us there, that a vehement love _amor excitet_ of books had so powerfully seized all the faculties of his mind, that dismissing all other avocations, he had applied the ardor of his thoughts to the acquisition of books. Expense to him was quite an afterthought, and he begrudged no amount to possess a volume of rarity or antiquity. Wisdom, he says, is an infinite treasure _infinitus thesaurus_, the value of which, in his opinion, was beyond all things; for how, he asks, can the sum be too great which purchases such vast delight. We cannot admire the purity of his Latin so much as the enthusiasm which pervades it; but in the eyes of the bibliophile this will amply compensate for his minor imperfections. When expatiating on the value of his books he appears to unbosom, as it were, all the inward rapture of love. A very _helluo librorum_--a very Maliabechi of a collector, yet he encouraged no selfish feeling to alloy his pleasure or to mingle bitterness with the sweets of his avocation. His knowledge he freely imparted to others, and his books he gladly lent. This is apparent in the Philobiblon; and his generous spirit warms his diction--not always chaste--into a fluent eloquence. His composition overflows with figurative expressions, yet the rude, ungainly form on which they are moulded deprive them of all claim to elegance or chastity; but while the homeliness of his diction fails to impress us with an idea of his versatility as a writer, his chatty anecdotal style rivets and keeps the mind amused, so that we rise from the little book with the consciousness of having obtained much profit and satisfaction from its perusal. Nor is it only the bibliomaniac who may hope to taste this pleasure in devouring the sweet contents of the Philobiblon; for there are many hints, many wise sayings, and many singular ideas scattered over its pages, which will amuse or instruct the general reader and the lover of olden literature. We observe too that Richard de Bury, as a writer, was far in advance of his age, and his work manifests an unusual freedom and independence of mind in its author; for although living in monkish days, when the ecclesiastics were almost supreme in power and wealth, he was fully sensible of the vile corruptions and abominations which were spreading about that time so fearfully among some of the cloistered devotees--the spotless purity of the primitive times was scarce known then--and the dark periods of the middle ages were bright and holy, when compared with the looseness and carnality of those turbulent days. Richard de Bury dipped his pen in gall when he spoke of these sad things, and doubtless many a revelling monk winced under the lashing words he applied to them; not only does he upbraid them for their carelessness in religion, but severely reprimands their inattention to literature and learning. "The monks," he says, "in the present day seem to be occupied in emptying cups, not in correcting codices, _Calicibus epotandis, non codicibus emendandis_, which they mingle with the lascivious music of Timotheus, and emulate his immodest manners, so that the sportive song _cantus ludentis_, and not the plaintive hymn, proceeds from the cells of the monks. Flocks and fleeces, grain and granaries, gardens and olives, potions and goblets, are in this day lessons and studies of the monks, except some chosen few."[186] He speaks in equally harsh terms of the religious mendicants. He accuses them of forgetting the words and admonitions of their holy founder, who was a great lover of books. He wishes them to imitate the ancient members of that fraternity, who were poor in spirit, but most rich in faith. But it must be remembered, that about this time the mendicant friars were treated with undeserved contempt, and much ill feeling rose against them among the clergy, but the clergy were somewhat prejudiced in their judgment. The order of St. Dominic, which a century before gloried in the approbation of the pope, and in the enjoyment of his potential bulls, now winced under gloomy and foreboding frowns. The sovereign Pontiff Honorius III. gratefully embraced the service of these friars, and confirmed their order with important privileges. His successor, Gregory IX., ratified these favors to gain their useful aid in propping up the papal power, and commanded the ecclesiastics by a bull to receive these "well-beloved children and preaching friars" of his, with hospitality and respect. Thus established, they were able to bear the tossings to and fro which succeeding years produced; but in Richard de Bury's time darker clouds were gathering--great men had severely chastized them with their pens and denounced them in their preachings. Soon after a host of others sprang up--among the most remarkable of whom were Johannes Poliaco, and Fitzralph, Archbishop of Armagh, who was a dear friend and chaplain of Richard de Bury's and many learned disputations were carried on between them.[187] The celebrated oration of Fitzralph's, cited in the presence of the pope, was a powerful blow to the mendicant friars--an examination of the matter has rather perplexed than cleared the subject, and I find it difficult which side to favor, the clergy seem to denounce the begging friars more from envy and interested motives, for they looked with extreme jealousy at the encroachments they had made upon their ecclesiastical functions of confession, absolution, etc., so profitable to the church in those days. In these matters the church had hitherto reserved a sole monopoly, and the clergy now determined to protect it with all the powers of oratorial denunciation; but, looking beyond this veil of prejudice, I am prone to regard them favorably, for their intense love of books, which they sought for and bought up with passionate eagerness. Fitzralph, quite unintentionally, bestows a bright compliment upon them, and as it bears upon our subject and illustrates the learning of the time, I am tempted to give a few extracts; he sorely laments the decrease of the number of students in the university of Oxford; "So," says he, "that yet in my tyme, in the universitie of Oxenford, were thirty thousand Scolers at ones; and now beth unnethe[188] sixe thousand."[189] All the blame of this he lays to the friars, and accuses them of doing "more grete damage to learning." "For these orders of beggers, for endeless wynnynges that thei geteth by beggyng of the forseide pryvyleges of schriftes and sepultures and othere, thei beth now so multiplyed in conventes and in persons. That many men tellith that in general studies unnethe, is it founde to sillynge a profitable book of ye faculte of art, of dyvynyte, of lawe canon, of phisik, other of lawe civil, but alle bookes beth y-bougt of Freres, so that en ech convent of Freres is a noble librarye and a grete,[190] and so that ene rech Frere that hath state in scole, siche as thei beth nowe, hath an hughe librarye. And also y-sent of my Sugettes[191] to scole thre other foure persons, and hit is said me that some of them beth come home azen for thei myst nougt[192] finde to selle ovn goode Bible; nother othere couenable[193] books." This strange accusation proves how industriously the friars collected books, and we cannot help regarding them with much esteem for doing so. Richard de Bury fully admits his obligations to the mendicants, from whom he obtained many choice transcripts. "When indeed," says he, "we happened to turn aside to the towns and places where the aforesaid paupers had convents, we were not slack in visiting their chests and other repositories of books, for there, amidst the deepest poverty, we found the most exalted riches treasured up; there, in their satchells and baskets, we discovered not only the crumbs that fell from the master's table for the little dogs, but indeed the shew bread without leaven, the bread of angels, containing in itself all that is delectable;" and moreover, he says, that he found these friars "not selfish hoarders, but meet professors of enlightened knowledge."[194] In the seventh chapter of his work, he deplores the sad destruction of books by war and fire, and laments the loss of the 700,000 volumes, which happened in the Alexandrian expedition; but the eighth chapter is the one which the bibliomaniac will regard with the greatest interest, for Richard de Bury tells us there how he collected together his rich and ample library. "For although," he writes, "from our youth we have ever been delighted to hold special and social communion with literary men and lovers of books, yet prosperity attending us, having obtained the notice of his majesty the king, and being received into his own family, we acquired a most ample facility of visiting at pleasure and of hunting, as it were, some of the most delightful covers, the public and private libraries _privatas tum communes_, both of the regulars and seculars. Indeed, while we performed the duties of Chancellor and Treasurer of the most invincible and ever magnificently triumphant king of England, Edward III., of that name after the conquest, whose days may the Most High long and tranquilly deign to preserve. After first inquiring into the things that concerned his court, and then the public affairs of his kingdom, an easy opening was afforded us, under the countenance of royal favor, for freely searching the hiding places of books. For the flying fame of our love had already spread in all directions, and it was reported not only that we had a longing desire for books, and _especially for old ones_, but that any one could more easily obtain our favors by quartos than by money.[195] Wherefore, when supported by the bounty of the aforesaid prince of worthy memory, we were enabled to oppose or advance, to appoint or discharge; crazy quartos and tottering folios, precious however in our sight as well as in our affections, flowed in most rapidly from the great and the small, instead of new year's gift and remunerations, and instead of presents and jewels. Then the cabinets of the most noble monasteries _tunc nobilissimos monasterios_ were opened, cases were unlocked, caskets were unclasped and sleeping volumes _soporata volumina_ which had slumbered for long ages in their sepulchres were roused up, and those that lay hid in dark places _in locis tenebrosis_ were overwhelmed with the rays of a new light. Books heretofore most delicate now become corrupted and abominable, lay lifeless, covered indeed with the excrements of mice and pierced through with the gnawing of worms; and those that were formerly clothed with purple and fine linen were now seen reposing in dust and ashes, given over to oblivion and the abode of moths. Amongst these, nevertheless, as time served, we sat down more voluptuously than the delicate physician could do amidst his stores of aromatics, and where we found an object of love, we found also an assuagement. Thus the sacred vessel of science came into the power of our disposal, some being given, some sold, and not a few lent for a time. Without doubt many who perceived us to be contented with gifts of this kind, studied to contribute these things freely to our use, which they could most conveniently do without themselves. We took care, however, to conduct the business of such so favorably, that the profit might accrue to them; justice suffered therefore no detriment." Of this, however, a doubt will intrude itself upon our minds, in defiance of the affirmation of my Lord Chancellor; indeed, the paragraph altogether is unfavorable to the character of so great a man, and fully proves the laxity of opinion, in those days of monkish supremacy, on judicial matters; but we must be generous, and allow something for the corrupt usages of the age, but I cannot omit a circumstance clearly illustrative of this point, which occurred between the bibliomanical Chancellor and the abbot of St. Alban's, the affair is recorded in the chronicle of the abbey, and transpired during the time Richard de Bury held the privy seal; in that office he appears to have favored the monks of the abbey in their disputes with the townspeople of St. Alban's respecting some possessions to which the monks tenaciously adhered and defended as their rightful property. Richard de Wallingford, who was then abbot, convoked the elder monks _convocatis senioribus_, and discussed with them, as to the most effectual way to obtain the goodwill and favor of de Bury; after due consideration it was decided that no gift was likely to prove so acceptable to that father of English bibliomania as a present of some of their choice books, and it was at last agreed to send four volumes, "that is to say Terence, a Virgil, a Quintilian, and Jerome against Ruffinus," and to sell him many others from their library; this they sent him intimation of, and a purchase was ultimately agreed upon between them. The monks sold to that rare collector, thirty-two choice tomes _triginta duos libros_, for the sum of fifty pounds of silver _quinginta libris argenti_.[196] But there were other bibliophiles and bookworms than Richard de Bury in old England then; for many of the brothers of St. Alban's who had nothing to do with this transaction, cried out loudly against it, and denounced rather openly the policy of sacrificing their mental treasures for the acquisition of pecuniary gain, but fortunately the loss was only a temporary one, for on the death of Richard de Bury many of these volumes were restored to the monks, who in return became the purchasers from his executors of many a rare old volume from the bishop's library.[197] To resume our extracts from the Philobiblon, De Bury proceeds to further particulars relative to his book-collecting career, and becomes quite eloquent in detailing these circumstances; but from the eighth chapter we shall content ourselves with one more paragraph. "Moreover," says he, "if we could have amassed cups of gold and silver, excellent horses, or no mean sums of money, we could in those days have laid up abundance of wealth for ourselves. But we regarded books not pounds, and valued codices more than florens, and preferred paltry pamphlets to pampered palfreys.[198] In addition to this we were charged with frequent embassies of the said prince of everlasting memory, and owing to the multiplicity of state affairs, we were sent first to the Roman chair, then to the court of France, then to the various other kingdoms of the world, on tedious embassies and in perilous times, carrying about with us that fondness for books, which many waters could not extinguish."[199] The booksellers found Richard de Bury a generous and profitable customer, and those residing abroad received commissions constantly from him. "Besides the opportunities," he writes, "already touched upon, we easily acquired the notice of the stationers and librarians, not only within the provinces of our native soil, but of those dispersed over the kingdoms of France, Germany, and Italy."[200] Such was bibliomania five hundred years ago! and does not the reader behold in it the very type and personification of its existence now? does he not see in Richard de Bury the prototype of a much honored and agreeable bibliophile of our own time? Nor has the renowned "Maister Dibdin" described his book-hunting tours with more enthusiasm or delight; with what a thrill of rapture would that worthy doctor have explored those monastic treasures which De Bury found hid in _locis tenebrosis_, antique Bibles, rare Fathers, rich Classics or gems of monkish lore, enough to fire the brain of the most lymphatic bibliophile, were within the grasp of the industrious and eager Richard de Bury--that old "Amator Librorum," like his imitators of the present day, cared not whither he went to collect his books--dust and dirt were no barriers to him; at every nook and corner where a stationer's stall[201] appeared, he would doubtless tarry in defiance of the cold winds or scorching sun, exploring the ancient tomes reposing there. Nor did he neglect the houses of the country rectors; and even the humble habitations of the rustics were diligently ransacked to increase his collections, and from these sources he gleaned many rude but pleasing volumes, perhaps full of old popular poetry! or the wild Romances of Chivalry which enlivened the halls and cots of our forefathers in Gothic days. We must not overlook the fact that this Treatise on the Love of Books was written as an accompaniment to a noble and generous gift. Many of the parchment volumes which De Bury had collected in his "_perilous embassies_," he gave, with the spirit of a true lover of learning, to the Durham College at Oxford, for the use of the Students of his Church. I cannot but regret that the names of these books, _of which he had made a catalogue_,[202] have not been preserved; perhaps the document may yet be discovered among the vast collections of manuscripts in the Oxonian libraries; but the book, being written for this purpose, the author thought it consistent that full directions should be given for the preservation and regulation of the library, and we find the last chapter devoted to this matter; but we must not close the Philobiblon without noticing his admonitions to the students, some of whom he upbraids for the carelessness and disrespect which they manifest in perusing books. "Let there," says he, with all the veneration of a passionate booklover, "be a modest decorum in opening and closing of volumes, that they may neither be unclasped with precipitous haste, nor thrown aside after inspection without being duly closed."[203] Loving and venerating a book as De Bury did, it was agony to see a volume suffering under the indignities of the ignorant or thoughtless student whom he thus keenly satirizes: "You will perhaps see a stiffnecked youth lounging sluggishly in his study, while the frost pinches him in winter time; oppressed with cold his watery nose drops, nor does he take the trouble to wipe it with his handkerchief till it has moistened the book beneath it with its vile dew;" nor is he "ashamed to eat fruit and cheese over an open book, or to transfer his empty cup from side to side; he reclines his elbow on the volume, turns down the leaves, and puts bits of straw to denote the place he is reading; he stuffs the book with leaves and flowers, and so pollutes it with filth and dust." With this our extracts from the Philobiblon must close; enough has been said and transcribed to place the Lord Chancellor of the puissant King Edward III. among the foremost of the bibliomaniacs of the past, and to show how valuable were his efforts to literature and learning; indeed, like Petrarch in Italy was Richard De Bury in England: both enthusiastic collectors and preservers of ancient manuscripts, and both pioneers of that revival of European literature which soon afterwards followed. In the fourteenth century we cannot imagine a more useful or more essential person than the bibliomaniac, for that surely was the harvest day for the gathering in of that food on which the mind of future generations were to subsist. And who reaped so laboriously or gleaned so carefully as those two illustrious scholars? Richard de Bury was no unsocial bookworm; for whilst he loved to seek the intercourse of the learned dead, he was far from being regardless of the living. Next to his clasped vellum tomes, nothing afforded him so much delight as an erudite disputation with his chaplains, who were mostly men of acknowledged learning and talent; among them were "Thomas Bradwardyn, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury; and Richard Fitz-Raufe, afterwards Archbishop of Armagh; Walter Burley, John Maudyt, Robert Holcote, Richard of Kilwington, all Doctors in Theology, _omnes Doctores in Theologia_; Richard Benworth, afterwards Bishop of London, and Walter Segraffe, afterwards Bishop of Chester;"[204] with these congenial spirits Richard de Bury held long and pleasing conversations, doubtless full of old bookwisdom and quaint Gothic lore, derived from still quainter volumes; and after meals I dare say they discussed the choice volume which had been read during their repast, as was the pious custom of those old days, and which was not neglected by De Bury, for "his manner was at dinner and supper time to have some good booke read unto him."[205] And now in bidding farewell to the illustrious Aungraville--for little more is known of his biography--let me not forget to pay a passing tribute of respect to his private character, which is right worthy of a cherished remembrance, and derives its principal lustre from the eminent degree in which he was endowed with the greatest of Christian virtues, and which, when practised with sincerity, covereth a multitude of sins; his charity, indeed, forms a delightful trait in the character of that great man; every week he distributed food to the poor; eight quarters of wheat _octo quarteria frumenti_, and the fragments from his own table comforted the indigent of his church; and always when he journeyed from Newcastle to Durham, he distributed twelve marks in relieving the distresses of the poor; from Durham to Stockton eight marks; and from the same place to his palace at Aukeland five marks; and and when he rode from Durham to Middleham he gave away one hundred shillings.[206] Living in troublous times, we do not find his name coupled with any great achievement in the political sphere; his talents were not the most propitious for a statesman among the fierce barons of the fourteenth century; his spirit loved converse with the departed great, and shone more to advantage in the quite closet of the bibliomaniac, or in fulfilling the benevolent duties of a bishop. Yet he was successful in all that the ambition of a statesman could desire, the friend and confidant of his king; holding the highest offices in the state compatible with his ecclesiastical position, with wealth in abundance, and blessed with the friendship of the learned and the good, we find little in his earthly career to darken the current of his existence, or to disturb the last hours of a life of near three score years. He died lamented, honored, and esteemed, at Aukeland palace, on the fourteenth of April, in the year 1345, in the fifty-eighth year of his age, and was buried with all due solemnity before the altar of the blessed Mary Magdalene, at the south angle of the church of Durham. His bones are now mingled with the dust and gone, but his memory is engraven on tablets of life; the hearts of all bibliomaniacs love and esteem his name for the many virtues with which it was adorned, and delight to chat with his choice old spirit in the Philobiblon, so congenial to their bookish souls. No doubt the illustrious example of Richard de Bury tended materially to spread far and wide the spirit of bibliomania. It certainly operated powerfully on the monks of Durham, who not only by transcribing, but at the cost of considerable sums of money, greatly increased their library. A catalogue of the collection, taken some forty years after the death of De Bury, is preserved to this day at Durham, and shows how considerably they augmented it during a space of two hundred years, or from the time when the former list was written. If the bibliomaniac can obtain a sight of this ancient catalogue, he will dwell over it with astonishment and delight--immaculate volumes of Scripture--fathers and classics bespeak its richness and extent, and Robert of Langchester, the librarian who wrote it, with pious preference places first on the list the magnificent Bible which bishop Hugo gave them many years before. This rare biblical treasure, then the pride and glory of the collection, is now in the Durham Library; but to look upon that fair manuscript will make the blood run cold--barbarous desecration has been committed by some bibliopegistical hand; the splendid illuminations so rich and spirited, which adorned the beauteous tomes, dazzled an ignorant mind, who cut them out and robbed it of half its interest and value. From near 600 volumes which the list enumerates, I cannot refrain from naming two or three. I have searched over its biblical department in vain to discover mention of the celebrated "Saint Cuthbert's Gospels." It is surprising they should have forgotten so rich a gem, for although four copies of the Gospels appear, not one of them answers to its description; two are specified as "_non glos_;" it could not have been either of those, another, the most interesting of the whole, is recorded as the venerable Bede's own copy! What bibliophile can look unmoved upon those time-honored pages, without indeed all the warmth of his booklove kindling forth into a very frenzy of rapture and veneration! So fairly written, and so accurately transcribed, it is one of the most precious of the many gems which now crowd the shelves of the Durham Library, and is well worth a pilgrimage to view it.[207] But this cannot be St. Cuthbert's Gospels, and the remaining copy is mentioned as "_Quarteur Evangelum_," fol. ii. "_se levantem_;" now I have looked at the splendid volume in the British Museum, to see if the catchword answered to this description, but it does not; so it cannot be this, which I might have imagined without the trouble of a research, for if it was, they surely would not have forgotten to mention its celebrated coopertoria. Passing a splendid array of Scriptures whole and in parts, for there was no paucity of sacred volumes in that old monkish library, and fathers, doctors of the Church, schoolmen, lives of saints, chronicles, profane writers, philosophical and logical treatises, medical works, grammars, and books of devotion, we are particularly struck with the appearance of so many fine classical authors. Works of Virgil (including the Æneid), Pompeius Trogus, Claudius, Juvenal, Terence, Ovid, Prudentius, Quintilian, Cicero, Boethius, and a host of others are in abundance, and form a catalogue rendered doubly exciting to the bibliophile by the insertion of an occasional note, which tells of its antiquity,[208] rarity, or value. In some of the volumes a curious inscription was inserted, thundering a curse upon any who would dare to pilfer it from the library, and for so sacrilegious a crime, calling down upon them the maledictions of Saints Maria, Oswald, Cuthbert, and Benedict.[209] A volume containing the lives of St. Cuthbert, St. Oswald, and St. Aydani, is described as "_Liber speciales et preciosus cum signaculo deaurato_." Thomas Langley, who was chancellor of England and bishop of Durham in the year 1406, collected many choice books, and left some of them to the library of Durham church; among them a copy of Lyra's Commentaries stands conspicuous; he also bequeathed a number of volumes to many of his private friends. There are few monastic libraries whose progress we can trace with so much satisfaction as the one now under consideration, for we have another catalogue compiled during the librarianship of John Tyshbourne, in the year 1416,[210] in which many errors appearing in the former ones are carefully corrected; books which subsequent to that time had been lost or stolen are here accounted for; many had been sent to the students at Oxford, and others have notes appended, implying to whom the volume had been lent; thus to a "_Flores Bernardi_," occurs "_Prior debit, I Kempe Episcopi Londoni_." It is, next to Monk Henry's of Canterbury, one of the best of all the monkish catalogues I have seen; not so much for its extent, as that here and there it fully partakes of the character of a catalogue _raisonné_; for terse sentences are affixed to some of the more remarkable volumes, briefly descriptive of their value; a circumstance seldom observable in these early attempts at bibliography. In taking leave of Durham library, need I say that the bibliomaniacs who flourished there in the olden time, not only collected their books with so much industry, but knew well how to use them too. The reader is doubtless aware how many learned men dwelled in monkish time within those ancient walls; and if he is inquisitive about such things has often enjoyed a few hours of pleasant chat over the historic pages of Symeon of Durham,[211] Turgot and Wessington,[212] and has often heard of brothers Lawrence,[213] Reginald,[214] and Bolton; but although unheeded now, many a monkish bookworm, glorying in the strict observance of Christian humility, and so unknown to fame, lies buried beneath that splendid edifice, as many monuments and funeral tablets testify and speak in high favor of the great men of Durham. If the reader should perchance to wander near that place, his eye will be attracted by many of these memorials of the dead; and a few hours spent in exploring them will serve to gain many additional facts to his antiquarian lore, and perhaps even something better too. For I know not a more suitable place, as far as outward circumstances are concerned, than an old sanctuary of God to prepare the mind and lead it to think of death and immortality. We read the names of great men long gone; of wealthy worldlings, whose fortunes have long been spent; of ambitious statesmen and doughty warriors, whose glory is fast fading as their costly mausoleums crumble in the hands of time, and whose stone tablets, green with the lichens' hue, manifest how futile it is to hope to gain immortality from stone, or purchase fame by the cold marble trophies of pompous grief; not that on their glassy surface the truth is always faithfully mirrored forth, even when the thoughts of holy men composed the eulogy; the tombs of old knew as well how to lie as now, and even ascetic monks could become too warm in their praises of departed worth; for whilst they blamed the great man living, with Christian charity they thought only of his virtues when they had nothing but his body left, and murmured long prayers, said tedious masses, and kept midnight vigils for his soul. For had he not shown his love to God by his munificence to His Church on earth? _Benedicite_, saith the monks. FOOTNOTES: [153] Bede's Eccles. Hist., B. iii. c. xvi. [154] Bede, B. iv. c. xxvii. [155] Marked Nero, D. iv. in the Cottonian collection. [156] The illuminations are engraved in Strutt's _Horda_. [157] There is prologue to the Canons and Prefaces of St. Jerome and Eusebius, and also a beautiful calendar written in compartments, elaborately finished in an architectural style. [158] He also transcribed the Durham Ritual, recently printed by the Surtee Society; when Alfred wrote this volume he was with bishop Alfsige, p. 185, 8vo. _Lond._ 1840. [159] For an account of this rare gem of Saxon art, see _Selden Præf. ad. Hist. Angl._ p. 25. _Marshall Observat. in Vers. Sax. Evang._, 491. _Dibdin's Decameron, p._ lii. _Smith's Bibl. Cotton. Hist. et Synop._, p. 33. [160] Simeon of Durham translated by Stevens, p. 87. [161] Simeon of Durham, by Stevens. [162] Ep. viii. [163] Tertia Quinquagina Augustini, marked B. ii. 14. [164] Surtee publications, vol. i. p. 117. [165] This catalogue is preserved at Durham, in the library of the Dean and Chapter, marked B. iv. 24. It is printed in the Surtee publications, vol. i. p. 1. [166] "King Stephen was vncle vnto him."--_Godwin's Cat. of Bishops_, 511. [167] He died in 1195.--Godwin, p. 735. He gave them also another Bible in two volumes; a list of the whole is printed in the Surtee publications, vol. i. p. 118. [168] Surtee's Hist, of Durham, vol. i. p. xxxii. "He was wonderfull rich, not onely in ready money but in lands also, and temporall revenues. For he might dispend yeerely 5000 marks."--_Godwin's Cat. Eng. Bish._ 4to. 1601, p. 520. [169] Robert de Graystane's ap. Wharton's Angl. Sacr. p. 748, tom. i.--_Hutchinson's Durham_, vol. i. p. 244. [170] Surtee publ. vol. i. p. 121. [171] Raine's North Durham, p. 85. [172] Surtee public. vol. 1. p. 39-40. [173] _Ibid._, vol. i. p. 41. [174] Chambre Contin. Hist. Dunelm. apud Wharton Angliæ Sacra, tom. i. p. 765. [175] Lord Campbell's Lives of the Lord Chancellors, vol. i. p. 219. [176] Absconditus est in Campanili fratrum minorum.--_Chambre ap. Wharton_, tom. i. p. 765. [177] In one of his letters Petrarch speaks of De Bury as _Virum ardentis ingenii_, Pet. ep. 1-3. [178] Epist. Seniles, lib. xvi. ep. 1. [179] Foscolo's Essays on Petrarch, p. 151. [180] Foscolo's Essays on Petrarch, p. 156. Famil. ep. lxxii. [181] Hortatio ad Nicol. Laurent Petrar., Op. vol. i. p. 596. [182] _Apud Wharton Ang. Sac._ tom. i. p. 765. [183] _Ibid._ [184] MS. Harleian, No. 3224, fo. 89, b. [185] There are two MSS. of the Philobiblon in the British Museum, which I quote in giving my Latin Extracts. The first is in the Cotton collection, marked Appendix iv. fol. 103. At the end are these lines, _Ric. de Aungervile cognominato de Bury, Dunelm. Episc. Philobiblon completum in Manerio de Auckland, d. 24 Jan. 1344_, fol. 119, b. The other is in the Harleian Collection, No. 3224, both are in fine preservation. The first printed edition appeared at Cologne, 1473, in 4to., without pagination, signatures, or catchwords, with 48 leaves, 26 lines on a full page; for some time, on account of its excessive rarity, which kept it from the eyes of book-lovers, bibliographers confused it with the second edition printed by John and Conrad Hüst, at Spires, in 1483, 4to. which, like the first, is without pagination, signatures, or catchwords, but it has only 39 pages, with 31 lines on a full page. Two editions were printed in 1500, 4to. at Paris, but I have only seen one of them. A fifth edition was printed at Oxford by T. J(ames), 4to. 1599. In 1614 it was published by Goldastus in 8vo. at Frankfort, with a _Philologicarium Epistolarum Centuria una_. Another edition of this same book was printed in 1674, 8vo. at Leipsic, and a still better edition appeared in 1703 by Schmidt, in 4to. The Philobiblon has recently been translated by Inglis, 8vo. _Lond._ 1834, with much accuracy and spirit, and I have in many cases availed myself of this edition, though I do not always exactly follow it. [186] "Greges et Vellera, Fruges et honea, Porri et Olera, Potus et Patera rectiones sunt hodie et studio monachorum."--MS. Harl. 2324, fol. 79, a; MS. Cot. ap. iv. fo. 108, a. [187] Wharton Ang. Sac., tom. i. p. 766, he is called _Ricardus Fitz-Rause postomodum Archiepiscopus Armachanus_. [188] Scarcely. [189] Translated by Trevisa, MS. Harleian, No. 1900, fol. 11, b. [190] The original is _grandis et nobilis libraria_. [191] Chaplain. [192] Could not. [193] Profitable. [194] Philobiblon, transl. by Inglis, p. 56. [195] "Curiam deinde vero Rem. publicam Regni sui Cacellarii, viz.: est ac Thesaurii fugeremur officiis, patescebat nobis aditus faciles regal favoris intuitu, ad libros latebras libere perscruta tandas amoris quippe nostri fama volatitis jam ubiqs. percreluit tam qs. libros _et maxime veterum_ ferabatur cupidite las vestere posse vero quemlibet nostrum per quaternos facilius quam per pecuniam adipisa favorem."--MS. Harl. fo. 85, a. MS. Cott. 110, b. [196] MS. Cottonian Claudius, E. iv. fol. 203, b. _Warton's Hist. of Poetry, Dissert. ii._; and _Hallam's_ Middle Ages, vol. ii. p. 611. Both notice this circumstance as a proof of the scarcity of books in De Bury's time. [197] _Ibid._ Among the MSS. in the Royal Library, there is a copy of John of Salisbury's _Ententicus_ which contains the following note, "Hunc librum fecit dominus Symon abbas S. Albani, quem postea venditum domino _Ricardo_ de Bury. Episcope Dunelmensi emit Michael abbas S. Albani ab executoribus prædicti episcopi, A. D. 1345." Marked 13 D. iv. 3. The same abbot expended a large sum in buying books for the library, but we shall speak more of Michael de Wentmore by and bye. [198] "Sed revera libros non libras maluimus, Codicesque plus quam florenos, ac pampletos exiguos incrussatis proetulimus palafridis."--MS. Harl. fo. 86, a. MS. Cott. fo. 111, a. [199] Inglis's Translation, p. 53. [200] Inglis's Translation, p. 58. [201] The Stationers or Booksellers carried on their business on open Stalls.--_Hallam, Lit. Europe_, vol. i. p. 339. It is pleasing to think that the same temptations which allure the bookworm now, in his perambulations, can claim such great antiquity, and that through so many centuries, bibliophiles and bibliopoles remain unaltered in their habits and singularities; but alas! this worthy relic of the middle ages I fear is passing into oblivion. Plate-glass fronts and bulky expensive catalogues form the bookseller's pride in these days of speed and progress, and offer more splendid temptations to the collector, but sad obstacles to the hungry student and black-letter bargain hunters. [202] _Philob._ xix. [203] Inglis, p. 96. "In primis quidam circa claudenda et apienda volumina, sit matura modestia; ut nec præcipiti festinatione solvantur, nec inspectione finita, sina clausura debita dimittantur." _MS. Harl._ fol. 103. [204] _Chambre ap. Wharton_, tom. i. p. 766. [205] Godwin Cat. of Bish. 525. [206] _Chambre ap. Wharton_, tom. i. p. 766. [207] It is marked A, ii. 16, and described in the old MS. catalogue as _De manus Bedæ_, ii. fol. _Baptizatus_. [208] The attractive words "_Est vetus Liber_" often occur. [209] From a volume of Thomas Aquinas, the following is transcribed: "Lib. Sti. Cuthberti de Dunelm, ex procuratione fratis Roberti de Graystane quem qui aliena verit maledictionem Sanctorum Mariæ, Oswaldi, Cuthberti et Benedicti incurrat." See _Surtee publications_, vol. i. p. 35, where other instances are given. [210] Surtee publ. vol. i. p. 85. [211] He wrote The Chronicle of Durham Monastery in 1130. [212] His book on the Rights and Privileges of Durham Church is in the Cottonian Library, marked _Vitellius_, A, 9. [213] Lawrence was elected prior in 1149, "a man of singular prudence and learning, as the many books he writ manifest." _Dugdale's Monast._ vol. 1. p. 230. [214] Wrote the Life and Miracles of St. Cuthbert, the original book is in the Durham Library. CHAPTER VI. _Croyland Monastery.--Its Library increased by Egebric.--Destroyed by Fire.--Peterborough.--Destroyed by the Danes.--Benedict and his books.--Anecdotes of Collectors.--Catalogue of the Library of the Abbey of Peterborough.--Leicester Library, etc._ The low marshy fens of Lincolnshire are particularly rich in monastic remains; but none prove so attractive to the antiquary as the ruins of the splendid abbey of Croyland. The pen of Ingulphus has made the affairs of that old monastery familiar to us; he has told us of its prospering and its misfortunes, and we may learn moreover from the pages of the monk how many wise and virtuous men, of Saxon and Norman days, were connected with this ancient fabric, receiving education there, or devoting their lives to piety within its walls. It was here that Guthlac, a Saxon warrior, disgusted with the world, sought solitude and repose; and for ten long years he led a hermit's life in that damp and marshy fen; in prayer and fasting, working miracles, and leading hearts to God, he spent his lonely days, all which was rewarded by a happy and peaceful death, and a sanctifying of his corporeal remains--for many wondrous miracles were wrought by those holy relics. Croyland abbey was founded on the site of Guthlac's hermitage, by Ethelred, king of Mercia. Many years before, when he was striving for the crown of that kingdom, his cousin, Crobrid, who then enjoyed it, pursued him with unremitting enmity; and worn out, spiritless and exhausted, the royal wanderer sought refuge in the hermit's cell. The holy man comforted him with every assurance of success; and prophesied that he would soon obtain his rights without battle or without bloodshed;[215] in return for these brighter prospects, and these kind wishes, Ethelred promised to found a monastery on that very spot in honor of God and St. Guthlac, which promise he faithfully fulfilled in the year 716, and "thus the wooden oratory was followed by a church of stone." Succeeding benefactors endowed, and succeeding abbots enriched it with their learning; and as years rolled by so it grew and flourished till it became great in wealth and powerful in its influence. But a gloomy day approached--the Danes destroyed that noble structure, devastating it by fire, and besmearing its holy altars with the blood of its hapless inmates. But zealous piety and monkish perseverance again restored it, with new and additional lustre; and besides adding to the splendor of the edifice, augmented its internal comforts by forming a library of considerable importance and value. We may judge how dearly they valued a _Bibliotheca_ in those old days by the contribution of one benevolent book-lover--Egebric, the second abbot of that name, a man whom Ingulphus says was "far more devoted to sacred learning and to the perusal of books than skilled in secular matters,"[216] gladdened the hearts of the monks with a handsome library, consisting of forty original volumes in various branches of learning, and more than one hundred volumes of different tracts and histories,[217] besides eighteen books for the use of the divine offices of the church. Honor to the monk who, in the land of dearth, could amass so bountiful a provision for the intellect to feed upon; and who encouraged our early literature--when feeble and trembling by the renewed attacks of rapacious invaders--by such fostering care. In the eleventh century Croyland monastery was doomed to fresh misfortunes; a calamitous fire, accidental in its origin, laid the fine monastery in a heap of ruins, and scattered its library in blackened ashes to the winds.[218] A sad and irreparable loss was that to the Norman monks and to the students of Saxon history in modern times; for besides four hundred Saxon charters, deeds, etc., many of the highest historical interest and value beautifully illuminated in gold (_aureis pictures_) and written in Saxon characters,[219] the whole of the choice and ample library was burnt, containing seven hundred volumes, besides the books of divine offices--the Antiphons and Grailes. I will not agonize the bibliophile by expatiating further on the sad work of destruction; but is he not somewhat surprised that in those bookless days seven hundred volumes should have been amassed together, besides a lot of church books and Saxon times? Ingulphus, who has so graphically described the destruction of Croyland monastery by the Danes in 870, has also given the particulars of their proceedings at the monastery of Peterborough, anciently called Medeshamstede, to which they immediately afterwards bent their steps. The monks, on hearing of their approach, took the precaution to guard the monastery by all the means in their power; but the quiet habits of monastic life were ill suited to inspire them with a warlike spirit, and after a feeble resistance, their cruel enemies (whom the monks speak of in no gentle terms, as the reader may imagine), soon effected an entrance; in the contest however Tulla, the brother of Hulda, the Danish leader, was slain by a stone thrown by one of the monks from the walls; this tended to kindle the fury of the besiegers, and so exasperated Hulda that it is said he killed with his own hand the whole of the poor defenceless monks, including their venerable abbot. The sacred edifice, completely in their hands, was soon laid waste; they broke down the altars, destroyed the monuments, and--much will the bibliophile deplore it--set fire to their immense library "_ingens bibliotheca_," maliciously tearing into pieces all their valuable and numerous charters, evidences, and writings. The monastery, says the historian, continued burning for fifteen days.[220] This seat of Saxon learning was left buried in its ruins for near one hundred years, when Athelwold, bishop of Winchester, in the year 966, restored it; but in the course of time, after a century of peaceful repose, fresh troubles sprang up. When Turoldus, a Norman, who had been appointed by William the Conqueror, was abbot, the Danes again paid them a visit of destruction. Hareward de Wake having joined a Danish force, proceeded to the town of Peterborough; fortunately the monks obtained some intelligence of their coming, which gave Turoldus time to repair to Stamford with his retinue. Taurus, the Sacrist, also managed to get away, carrying with him some of their treasures, and among them a text of the Gospels, which he conveyed to his superior at Stamford, and by that means preserved them. On the arrival of the Danes, the remaining monks were prepared to offer a somewhat stern resistance, but without effect; for setting fire to the buildings, the Danes entered through the flames and smoke, and pillaged the monastery of all its valuable contents; and that which they could not carry away, they destroyed: not even sparing the shrines of holy saints, or the miracle-working dust contained therein. The monks possessed a great cross of a most costly nature, which the invaders endeavored to take away, but could not on account of its weight and size; however, they broke off the gold crown from the head of the crucifix, and the footstool under its feet, which was made of pure gold and gems; they also carried away two golden biers, on which the monks carried the relics of their saints; with nine silver ones. There was certainly no monachal poverty here, for their wealth must have been profuse; besides the above treasures, they took twelve crosses, made of gold and silver; they also went up to the tower and took away a table of large size and value, which the monks had hid there, trusting it might escape their search; it was a splendid affair, made of gold and silver and precious stones, and was usually placed before the altar. But besides all this, they robbed them of that which those poor monkish bibliophiles loved more than all. Their library, which they had collected with much care, and which contained many volumes, was carried away, "with many other precious things, the like of which were not to be found in all England."[221] The abbot and those monks who fortunately escaped, afterwards returned, sad and sorrowful no doubt; but trusting in their Divine Master and patron Saint, they ultimately succeeded in making their old house habitable again, and well fortified it with a strong wall, so that formerly it used to be remarked that this building looked more like a military establishment than a house of God. Eminently productive was the monastery of Peterborough in Saxon bibliomaniacs. Its ancient annals prove how enthusiastically they collected and transcribed books. There were few indeed of its abbots who did not help in some way or other to increase their library. Kenulfus, who was abbot in the year 992, was a learned and eloquent student in divine and secular learning. He much improved his monastery, and greatly added to its literary treasures.[222] But the benefactors of this place are too numerous to be minutely specified here. Hugo Candidus tells us, that Kinfernus, Archbishop of York, in 1056, gave them many valuable ornaments; and among them a fine copy of the Gospels, beautifully adorned with gold. This puts us in mind of Leofricus, a monk of the abbey, who was made abbot in the year 1057. He is said to have been related to the royal family, a circumstance which may account for his great riches. He was a sad pluralist, and held at one time no less than five monasteries, viz. Burton, Coventy, Croyland, Thorney, and Peterborough.[223] He gave to the church of Peterborough many and valuable utensils of gold, silver, and precious stones, and a copy of the Gospels bound in gold.[224] But in all lights, whether regarded as an author or a bibliophile, great indeed was Benedict, formerly prior of Canterbury, and secretary to Thomas à Becket,[225] of whom it is supposed he wrote a life. He was made abbot of Peterborough in the year 1177; he compiled a history of Henry II. and king Richard I.;[226] he is spoken of in the highest terms of praise by Robert Swapham for his profound wisdom and great erudition in secular matters.[227] There can be no doubt of his book-loving passion; for during the time he was abbot he transcribed himself, and ordered others to transcribe, a great number of books. Swapham has preserved a catalogue of them, which is so interesting that I have transcribed it entire. The list is entitled: DE LIBRIS EJUS. Plurimos quoque libros 3 scribere fecit, quorum nomina subnotantur. Vetus et Novum Testamentum in uno volumine. Vetus et Novum Testamentum in 4 volumina. Quinque libri Moysi glosati in uno volumine. Sexdecim Prophetæ glosati in uno volumine. Duodecim minores glosati Prophetæ in uno volumine. Liber Regum glosatus, paralipomenon glosatus. Job, Parabolæ Solomonis et Ecclesiastes, Cantica Canticorum glosati in uno volumine. Liber Ecclesiasticus et Liber Sapientiæ glosatus in uno volumine. Tobyas, Judith, Ester et Esdras, glosati in uno volumine. Liber Judicum glosatus. Scholastica hystoria. Psalterium glosatum. Item non glosatum. Item Psalterium. Quatuor Evangelia glosata in uno volumine. Item Mathæus et Marcus in uno volumine. Johannes et Lucas in uno volumine. Epistolæ Pauli glosatæ Apocalypsis et Epistolæ Canonicæ glosata in uno volumine. Sententiæ Petri Lombardi. Item Sententiæ ejusdem. Sermones Bernardi Abbatis Clarevallensis. Decreta Gratiani. Item Decreta Gratiani. Summa Ruffini de Decretis. Summa Johannes Fuguntini de Decretis. Decretales Epistolæ. Item Decretales Epistolæ. Item Decretales Epistolæ cum summa sic incipiente; Olim. Institutiones Justiniani cum autenticis et Infortiatio Digestum vetus. Tres partes cum digesto novo. Summa Placentini. Totum Corpus Juris in duobus voluminibus. Arismetica. Epistolæ Senecæ cum aliis Senecis in uno volumine. Martialis totus et Terentius in uno volumine. Morale dogma philosophorum. Gesta Alexandri et Liber Claudii et Claudiani. Summa Petri Heylæ de Grammatica, cum multis allis rebus in uno volumine. Gesta Regis Henrica secunda et Genealogiæ ejus. Interpretatione Hebraicorum nominum. Libellus de incarnatione verbi. Liber Bernardi Abbatis ad Eugenium papam. Missale. Vitæ Sancti Thomæ Martyris.[228] Miracula ejusdem in quinque voluminibus. Liber Richardi Plutonis, qui dicitur, unde Malum Meditationes Anselmi. Practica Bartholomæi cum multis allis rebus in uno volumine. Ars Physicæ Pantegni, et practica ipsius in uno volumine. Almazor et Diascoridis de virtutibus herbarum. Liber Dinamidiorum et aliorum multorum in uno volumine. Libellus de Compoto. Sixty volumes! perhaps containing near 100 separate works, and all added to the library in the time of one abbot; surely this is enough to controvert the opinion that the monks cared nothing for books or learning, and let not the Justin, Seneca, Martial, Terence, and Claudian escape the eye of the reader, those monkish bookworms did care a little, it would appear, for classical literature. But what will he say to the fine Bibles that crown and adorn the list? The two complete copies of the _Vetus et Novum Testamentum_, and the many glossed portions of the sacred writ, reflect honor upon the Christian monk, and placed him conspicuously among the bible students of the middle ages; proving too, that while he could esteem the wisdom of Seneca, and the vivacity of Terence, and feel a deep interest in the secular history of his own times, he did not lose sight of the fountain of all knowledge, but gave to the Bible his first care, and the most prominent place on his library shelf. Besides the books which the abbots collected for the monastery, they often possessed a private selection for their own use; there are instances in which these collections were of great extent; some of which we shall notice, but generally speaking they seldom numbered many volumes. Thus Robert of Lyndeshye, who was abbot of Peterborough in 1214, only possessed six volumes, which were such as he constantly required for reference or devotion; they consisted of a Numerale Majestri W. de Montibus cum alliis rebus; Tropi Majestri Petri cum diversis summis; Sententiæ Petri Pretanensis; Psalterium Glossatum; Aurora; Psalterium;[229] Historiale. These were books continually in requisition, and which he possessed to save the trouble of constantly referring to the library. His successor, abbot Holdernesse, possessed also twelve volumes,[230] and Walter of St. Edmundsbury Abbot, in 1233, had eighteen books, and among them a fine copy of the Bible for his private study. Robert of Sutton in 1262, also abbot of Peterborough, possessed a similar number, containing a copy of the Liber Naturalium Anstotelis; and his successor, Richard of London, among ten books which formed his private library, had the Consolation of Philosophy, a great favorite in the monasteries. In the year 1295 William of Wodeforde, collected twenty volumes, but less than that number constituted the library of Adam de Botheby, who was abbot of Peterborough many years afterwards, but among them I notice a Seneca, with thirty-six others contained in the same volume.[231] Abbot Godfrey, elected in the year 1299, was a great benefactor to the church, as we learn from Walter de Whytlesse, who gives a long list of donations made by him; among a vast quantity of valuables, "he gave to the church _two Bibles_, one of which was written in France," with about twenty other volumes. In the war which occurred during his abbacy, between John Baliol of Scotland and Edward I. of England, the Scots applied to the pope for his aid and council; his holiness deemed it his province to interfere, and directed letters to the king of England, asserting that the kingdom of Scotland appertained to the Church of Rome; in these letters he attempt to prove that it was opposed to justice, and, what he deemed of still greater importance, to the interests of the holy see, that the king of England should not have dominion over the kingdom of Scotland. The pope's messengers on this occasion were received by abbot Godfrey; Walter says that "He honorably received two cardinals at Peterborough with their retinues, who were sent by the pope to make peace between the English and the Scotch, and besides cheerfully entertaining them with food and drink, gave them divers presents; to one of the cardinals, named Gaucelin, he gave a certain psalter, beautifully written in letters of gold and purple, and marvellously illuminated, _literis aureis et assuris scriptum et mirabiliter luminatum_.[232] I give this anecdote to show how splendidly the monks inscribed those volumes designed for the service of the holy church. I ought to have mentioned before that Wulstan, archbishop of York, gave many rare and precious ornaments to Peterborough, nor should I omit a curious little book anecdote related of him. He was born at Jceritune in Warwickshire, and was sent by his parents to Evesham, and afterwards to Peterborough, where he gave great indications of learning. His schoolmaster, who was an Anglo-Saxon named Erventus, was a clever calligraphist, and is said to have been highly proficient in the art of illuminating; he instructed Wulstan in these accomplishments, who wrote under his direction a sacramentary and a psalter, and illuminated the capitals with many pictures painted in gold and colors; they were executed with so much taste that his master presented the sacramentary to Canute, and the psalter to his queen."[233] From these few facts relative to Peterborough Monastery, the reader will readily perceive how earnestly books were collected by the monks there, and will be somewhat prepared to learn that a catalogue of 1,680 volumes is preserved, which formerly constituted the library of that fraternity of bibliophiles. This fine old catalogue, printed by Gunton in his history of the abbey, covers fifty folio pages; it presents a faithful mirror of the literature of its day, and speaks well for the bibliomanical spirit of the monks of Peterborough. Volumes of patristic eloquence and pious erudition crowd the list; chronicles, poetry, and philosophical treatises are mingled with the titles of an abundant collection of classic works, full of the lore of the ancient world. Although the names may be similar to those which I have extracted from other catalogues, I must not omit to give a few of them; I find works of-- Augustine. Ambrose. Albinus. Cassiodorus. Gregory. Cyprian. Seneca. Prosper. Tully. Bede. Basil. Lanfranc. Chrysostom. Jerome. Eusebius. Boethius. Isidore. Origin. Dionysius. Cassian. Bernard. Anselm. Alcuinus. Honorius. Donatus. Macer. Persius. Virgil. Isagoge of Porphry. Aristotle. Entyci Grammatica. Socrates. Ovid. Priscian. Hippocrates. Horace. Sedulus. Theodulus. Sallust. Macrobius. Cato. Prudentius. But although they possessed these fine authors and many others equally choice, I am not able to say much for the biblical department of their library, I should have anticipated a goodly store of the Holy Scriptures, but in these necessary volumes they were unusually poor. But I suspect the catalogue to have been compiled during the fifteenth century, and I fear too, that in that age the monks were growing careless of Scripture reading, or at least relaxing somewhat in the diligence of their studies; perhaps they devoured the attractive pages of Ovid, and loved to read his amorous tales more than became the holiness of their priestly calling.[234] At any rate we may observe a marked change as regards the prevalence of the Bible in monastic libraries between the twelfth and the fifteenth century. It is true we often find them in those of the later age; but sometimes they are entirely without, and frequently only in detached portions.[235] I may illustrate this by a reference to the library of the Abbey of St. Mary de la Pré at Leicester, which gloried in a collection of 600 volumes, of the choicest and almost venerable writers. It was written in the year 1477, by William Chartye,[236] prior of the abbey, and an old defective and worn out Bible, _Biblie defect et usit_, with some detached portions, was all that fine library contained of the Sacred Writ. The bible _defect et usit_ speaks volumes to the praise of the ancient monks of that house, for it was by their constant reading and study, that it had become so thumbed and worn; but it stamps with disgrace the affluent monks of the fifteenth century, who, while they could afford to buy, in the year 1470,[237] some thirty volumes with a Seneca, Ovid, Claudian, Macrobius, Æsop, etc., among them, and who found time to transcribe twice as many more, thought not of restoring their bible tomes, or adding one book of the Holy Scripture to their crowded shelves. But alas! monachal piety was waxing cool and indifferent then, and it is rare to find the honorable title of an _Amator Scripturarum_ affixed to a monkish name in the latter part of the fifteenth century. FOOTNOTES: [215] Gough's Hist. Croyland in Bibl. Top. Brit. xi. p. 3. [216] Inguph. in Gale's Script. tom. i. p. 53. [217] "Debit iste Abbas Egebricus communi bibliothecæ clanstralium monachorum magna volumina diversorum doctorum originalia numero quadraginta; minora vero volumina de diversæ tractatibus et historiis, quæ numerum centenarium excedibant." Ingul. p. 53. [218] The fire occurred in 1091. Ingulphus relates with painful minuteness the progress of the work of destruction, and enumerates all the rich treasures which those angry flames consumed. I should have given a longer account of this event had not the Rev. Mr. Maitland already done so in his interesting work on the "_Dark Ages_." [219] Gale's Remin. Ang. Scrip. i. p. 98. [220] Ingulph. ap. Gale i. p. 25. [221] See Gunter's Peterborough, suppl. 263. [222] Hugo Candid, p. 31; Tamer Bib. Brit. et Hib. p. 175. Candidus says, "Flos literaris disciplina, torrens eloquentiæ, decus et norma rerum divinarum et secularium." [223] Hugo Candid. ap. Sparke, Hist. Ang. Scrip. p. 41. Gunter's Peterboro, p. 15, ed. 1686. [224] Hugo Candid. p. 42. [225] Leland de Scrip. Brit. p. 217. [226] Published by Hearne, 2 vol. 8vo. _Oxon._ 1735. [227] Rt. Swap. ap. Sparke, p. 97. "Erat. enin literarum scientiæ satis imbutus; regulari disciplina optime instructus; sapientia seculari plenissime eruditus." [228] Swapham calls this "Egregium volumen," p. 98. [229] Now preserved in the library of the Society of Antiquaries. [230] Gunter, Peterborough, p. 29. [231] Ibid, p. 37. [232] Walter de Whytlesse apud Sparke, p. 173. [233] Gunter's Hist. of Peterborough, p. 259. [234] At any rate, we find about thirty volumes of Ovid's works enumerated, and several copies of "de Arte Amandi," and "de Remedis Amoris." [235] Let the reader examine Leland's Collect., and the Catalogues printed in Hunter's Tract on Monastic Libraries. See also Catalogue of Canterbury Library, MS. Cottonian Julius, c. iv. 4., in the British Museum. [236] Printed by Nichols, in Appendix to Hist. of Leicester, from a MS. Register. It contains almost as fine a collection of the classics and fathers as that at Peterborough, just noticed, Aristotle, Virgil, Plato, Ovid, Cicero, Euclid, Socrates, Horace, Lucan, Seneca, etc., etc. are among them, pp. 101 to 108. It is curious that Leland mentions only six MSS. as forming the library at the time he visited the Abbey of Leicester, all its fine old volumes were gone. He only arrived in time to pick up the crumbs. [237] At least during the time of William Charteys priorship. See Nichols, p. 108. CHAPTER VII. _King Alfred an "amator librorum" and an author._ The latter part of the tenth century was a most memorable period in the annals of monkish bibliomania, and gave birth to one of the brightest scholars that ever shone in the dark days of our Saxon forefathers. King Alfred, in honor of whose talents posterity have gratefully designated the Great, spread a fostering care over the feeble remnant of native literature which the Danes in their cruel depredations had left unmolested. The noble aspirations of this royal student and patron of learning had been instilled into his mind by the tender care of a fond parent. It was from the pages of a richly illuminated little volume of Saxon poetry, given to him by the queen as a reward for the facility with which he had mastered its contents, that he first derived that intense love of books which never forsook him, though the sterner duties of his after position frequently required his thoughts and energies in another channel. Having made himself acquainted with this little volume, Alfred found a thirst for knowledge grow upon him, and applied his youthful mind to study with the most zealous ardor; but his progress was considerably retarded, because he could not, at that time, find a Grammaticus capable of instructing him,[238] although he searched the kingdom of the West Saxons. Yet he soon acquired the full knowledge of his own language, and the Latin it is said he knew as well, and was able to use with a fluency equal to his native tongue; he could comprehend the meaning of the Greek, although perhaps he was incapable of using it to advantage. He was so passionately fond of books, and so devoted to reading, that he constantly carried about him some favorite volume which, as a spare moment occurred, he perused with the avidity of an _helluo librorum_. This pleasing anecdote related by Asser[239] is characteristic of his natural perseverance. When he ascended the throne, he lavished abundant favors upon all who were eminent for their literary acquirements; and displayed in their distribution the utmost liberality and discrimination. Asser, who afterwards became his biographer, was during his life the companion and associate of his studies, and it is from his pen we learn that, when an interval occurred inoccupied by his princely duties, Alfred stole into the quietude of his study to seek comfort and instruction from the pages of those choice volumes, which comprised his library. But Alfred was not a mere bookworm, a devourer of knowledge without purpose or without meditation of his own, he thought with a student's soul well and deeply upon what he read, and drew from his books those principles of philanthropy, and those high resolves, which did such honor to the Saxon monarch. He viewed with sorrow the degradation of his country, and the intellectual barrenness of his time; the warmest aspiration of his soul was to diffuse among his people a love for literature and science, to raise them above their Saxon sloth, and lead them to think of loftier matters than war and carnage. To effect this noble aim, the highest to which the talents of a monarch can be applied, he for a length of time devoted his mind to the translation of Latin authors into the vernacular tongue. In his preface to the Pastoral of Gregory which he translated, he laments the destruction of the old monastic libraries by the Danes. "I saw," he writes, "before alle were spoiled and burnt, how the churches throughout Britain were filled with treasures and books,"[240] which must have presented a striking contrast to the illiterate darkness which he tells us afterwards spread over his dominions, for there were then very few _paucissimi_ who could translate a Latin epistle into the Saxon language. When Alfred had completed the translation of Gregory's Pastoral, he sent a copy to each of his bishops accompanied with a golden stylus or pen,[241] thus conveying to them the hint that it was their duty to use it in the service of piety and learning. Encouraged by the favorable impression which this work immediately caused, he spared no pains to follow up the good design, but patiently applied himself to the translation of other valuable books which he rendered into as pleasing and expressive a version as the language of those rude times permitted. Besides these literary labors he also wrote many original volumes, and became a powerful orator, a learned grammarian, an acute philosopher, a profound mathematician, and the prince of Saxon poesy; with these exalted talents he united those of an historian, an architect, and an accomplished musician. A copious list of his productions, the length of which proves the fertility of his pen, will be found in the Biographica Britannica,[242] but names of others not there enumerated may be found in monkish chronicles; of his Manual, which was in existence in the time of William of Malmsbury, not a fragment has been found. The last of his labors was probably an attempt to render the psalms into the common language, and so unfold that portion of the Holy Scriptures to our Saxon ancestors. Alfred, with the assistance of the many learned men whom he had called to his court, restored the monasteries and schools of learning which the Danes had desecrated, and it is said founded the university of Oxford, where he built three halls, in the name of the Holy Trinity; for the doctors of divinity, philosophy, and grammar. The controversy which this subject has given rise to among the learned is too long to enter into here, although the matter is one of great interest to the scholar and to the antiquary. In the year 901, this royal bibliophile, "the victorious prince, the studious provider for widows, orphanes, and poore people, most perfect in Saxon poetrie, most liberall endowed with wisdome, fortitude, justice, and temperance, departed this life;"[243] and right well did he deserve this eulogy, for as an old chronicle says, he was "a goode clerke and rote many bokes, and a boke he made in Englysshe, of adventures of kynges and bataylles that had bene wne in the lande; and other bokes of gestes he them wryte, that were of greate wisdome, and of good learnynge, thrugh whych bokes many a man may him amende, that well them rede, and upon them loke. And thys kynge Allured lyeth at Wynchestre."[244] FOOTNOTES: [238] Flor. Vigorn. sub. anno. 871. Brompton's Chron. in Alferi, p. 814. [239] Asser de Alfredi Gestis., Edit. Camden i. p. 5. William Malmsbury, b. ii. c. iv. [240] Preface to Pastoral. [241] Much controversy has arisen as to the precise meaning of this word. _Hearne_ renders this passage "with certain macussus or marks of gold the purest of his coin," which has led some to suppose gold coinage was known among the Saxons. _William of Malmsbury_ calls it a golden style in which was a maucus of gold. "In Alfred's Preface it is called an Æstel of fifty macuses."--_V. Asser a Wise_, 86 to 175; but the meaning of that word is uncertain. The stylus properly speaking was a small instrument formerly used for writing on waxen tablets, and made of iron or bone, see _Archæologia_, vol. ii. p. 75. But waxen tablets were out of use in Alfred's time. The Æstel or style was most probably an instrument used by the scribes of the monasteries, if it was not actually a pen. I am more strongly disposed to consider it so by the evidence of an ancient MS. illumination of Eadwine, a monk of Canterbury, in Trinity Coll. Camb.; at the end of this MS. the scribe is represented with a _metal pen in his hand_. [242] Vol. i. pp. 54, 55. [243] Stowe's Annals, 4to. 1615, p. 105. [244] Cronycle of Englonde with the Fruyte of Tymes, 4to. 1515. CHAPTER VIII. _Benedict Biscop and his book tours.--Bede.--Ceolfrid.--Wilfrid.--Boniface the Saxon Missionary--His love of books.--Egbert of York.--Alcuin.--Whitby Abbey.--Cædmon.--Classics in the Library of Withby.--Rievall Library.--Coventry.--Worcester.--Evesham.--Thomas of Marleberg, etc._ The venerable Bede enables us to show that in the early Saxon days the monasteries of Wearmouth and Jarrow possessed considerable collections of books. Benedict Biscop, the most enthusiastic bibliomaniac of the age, founded the monastery of Wearmouth in the year 674, in honor of the "Most Holy Prince of the Apostles." His whole soul was in the work, he spared neither pains or expense to obtain artists of well known and reputed talent to decorate the holy edifice; not finding them at home, he journeyed to Gaul in search of them, and returned accompanied by numerous expert and ingenious workmen. Within a year the building was sufficiently advanced to enable the monks to celebrate divine service there. He introduced glass windows and other ornaments into his church, and furnished it with numerous books of all descriptions, _innumerabilem librorum omnis generis_. Benedict was so passionately fond of books that he took five journeys to Rome for the purpose of collecting them. In his third voyage he gathered together a large quantity on divine erudition; some of these he bought, or received them as presents from his friends, _vel amicorum dono largitos retulit_. When he arrived at Vienne on his way home, he collected others which he had commissioned his friends to purchase for him.[245] After the completion of his monastery he undertook his fourth journey to Rome; he obtained from the Pope many privileges for the abbey, and returned in the year 680, bringing with him many more valuable books; he was accompanied by John the Chantor, who introduced into the English churches the Roman method of singing. He was also a great _amator librorum_, and left many choice manuscripts to the monks, which Bede writes "were still preserved in their library." It was about this time that Ecgfrid[246] gave Benedict a portion of land on the other side of the river Wire, at a place called Jarrow; and that enterprising and industrious abbot, in the year 684, built a monastery thereon. No sooner was it completed, than he went a fifth time to Rome to search for volumes to gratify his darling passion. This was the last, but perhaps the most successful of his foreign tours, for he brought back with him a vast quantity of sacred volumes and curious pictures.[247] How deeply is it to be regretted that the relation of the travels which Ceolfrid his successor undertook, and which it is said his own pen inscribed, has been lost to us forever. He probably spoke much of Benedict in the volume and recorded his book pilgrimages. How dearly would the bibliomaniac revel over those early annals of his science, could his eye meet those venerable pages--perhaps describing the choice tomes Benedict met with in his Italian tours, and telling us how, and what, and where he gleaned those fine collections; sweet indeed would have been the perusal of that delectable little volume, full of the book experience of a bibliophile in Saxon days, near twelve hundred years ago! But the ravages of time or the fury of the Danes deprived us of this rare gem, and we are alone dependent on Bede for the incidents connected with the life of this great man; we learn from that venerable author that Benedict was seized with the palsy on his return, and that languishing a few short years, he died in the year 690; but through pain and suffering he often dwelt on the sweet treasures of his library, and his solemn thoughts of death and immortality were intermixed with many a fond bookish recollection. _His most noble and abundant library which he brought from Rome_ he constantly referred to, and gave strict injunctions that the monks should apply the utmost care to the preservation of that rich and costly treasure, in the collection of which so many perils and anxious years were spent.[248] We all know the force of example, and are not surprised that the sweet mania which ruled so potently over the mind of Benedict, spread itself around the crowned head of royalty. Perhaps book collecting was beginning to make "a stir," and the rich and powerful among the Saxons were regarding strange volumes with a curious eye. Certain it is that Egfride, or Ælfride, the proud king of Northumbria,[249] fondly coveted a beautiful copy of the geographer's (_codice mirandi operis_), which Benedict numbered among his treasures; and so eagerly too did he desire its possession, that he gave in exchange a portion of eight hides of land, near the river Fresca, for the volume; and Ceolfrid, Benedict's successor, received it. How useful must Benedict's library have been in ripening the mind that was to cast a halo of immortality around that old monastery, and to generate a renown which was long to survive the grey walls of that costly fane; for whilst we now fruitlessly search for any vestiges of its former being, we often peruse the living pages of Bede the venerable with pleasure and instruction, and we feel refreshed by the breath of piety and devotion which they unfold; yet it must be owned the superstition of Rome will sometimes mar a devout prayer and the simplicity of a Christian thought. But all honor to his manes and to his memory! for how much that is admirable in the human character--how much sweet and virtuous humility was hid in him, in the strict retirement of the cloister. The writings of that humble monk outlive the fame of many a proud ecclesiastic or haughty baron of his day; and well they might, for how homely does his pen record the simple annals of that far distant age. Much have the old monks been blamed for their bad Latin and their humble style; but far from upbraiding, I would admire them for it; for is not the inelegance of diction which their unpretending chronicles display, sufficiently compensated by their charming simplicity. As for myself, I have sometimes read them by the blaze of my cheerful hearth, or among the ruins of some old monastic abbey,[250] till in imagination I beheld the events which they attempt to record, and could almost hear the voice of the "_goode olde monke_" as he relates the deeds of some holy man--in language so natural and idiomatic are they written. But as we were saying, Bede made ample use of Benedict's library; and the many Latin and Greek books, which he refers to in the course of his writings, were doubtless derived from that source.[251] Ceolfrid, the successor of Benedict, "a man of great zeal, of acute wisdom, and bold in action," was a great lover of books, and under his care the libraries of Wearmouth and Jarrow became nearly doubled in extent; of the nature of these additions we are unable to judge, but probably they were not contemptible.[252] Wilfrid, bishop of Northumbria, was a dear and intimate friend of Biscop's, and was the companion of one of his pilgrimages to Rome. In his early youth he gave visible signs of a heart full of religion and piety, and he sought by a steady perusal of the Holy Scriptures, in the little monastery of Lindesfarne, to garnish his mind with that divine lore with which he shone so brightly in the Saxon church. It was at the court of Ercenbyrht, king of Kent, that he met with Benedict Biscop; and the sympathy which their mutual learning engendered gave rise to a warm and devoted friendship between them. Both inspired with an ardent desire to visit the apostolic see, they set out together for Rome;[253] and it was probably by the illustrious example of his fellow student and companion, that Wilfrid imbibed that book-loving passion which he afterwards displayed on more than one occasion. On his return from Rome, Alfred of Northumbria bestowed upon him the monastery of Rhypum[254] in the year 661, and endowed it with certain lands. Peter of Blois records, in his life of Wilfrid, that this "man of God" gave the monastery a copy of the gospels, a library, and many books of the Old and New Testament, with certain tablets made with marvellous ingenuity, and ornamented with gold and precious stones.[255] Wilfrid did not long remain in the monastery of Ripon, but advanced to higher honors, and took a more active part in the ecclesiastical affairs of the time.[256] But I am not about to pursue his history, or to attempt to show how his hot and imperious temper, or the pride and avarice of his disposition, wrought many grievous animosities in the Saxon church; or how by his prelatical ambition he deservedly lost the friendship of his King and his ecclesiastical honors.[257] About this time, and contemporary with Bede, we must not omit one who appears as a bright star in the early Christian church. Boniface,[258] the Saxon missionary, was remarked by his parents to manifest at an early age signs of that talent which in after years achieved so much, and advanced so materially the interests of piety and the cause of civilization. When scarcely four years old his infant mind seemed prone to study, which growing upon him as he increased in years, his parent placed him in the monastery of Exeter. His stay there was not of long duration, for he shortly after removed to a monastery in Hampshire under the care of Wybert. In seclusion and quietude he there studied with indefatigable ardor, and fortified his mind with that pious enthusiasm and profound erudition, which enabled him in a far distant country to render such service to the church. He was made a teacher, and when arrived at the necessary age he was ordained priest. In the year 710, a dispute having occurred among the western church of the Saxons, he was appointed to undertake a mission to the archbishop of Canterbury on the subject. Pleased perhaps with the variety and bustle of travel, and inspired with a holy ambition, he determined to attempt the conversion of the German people, who, although somewhat acquainted with the gospel truths, had nevertheless deviated materially from the true faith, and returned again to their idolatry and paganism. Heedless of the danger of the expedition, but looking forward only to the consummation of his fond design, he started on his missionary enterprise, accompanied by one or two of his monkish brethren. He arrived at Friesland in the year 716, and proceeded onwards to Utrecht; but disappointments and failures awaited him. The revolt of the Frieslanders and the persecution then raging there against the Christians, dissipated his hopes of usefulness; and with a heavy heart, no doubt, Boniface retraced his steps, and re-embarked for his English home. Yet hope had not deserted him--his philanthropic resolutions were only delayed for a time; for no sooner had the dark clouds of persecution passed away than his adventurous spirit burst forth afresh, and shone with additional lustre and higher aspirations. After an interval of two years we find him again starting on another Christian mission. On reaching France he proceeded immediately to Rome, and procured admission to the Pope, who, ever anxious for the promulgation of the faith and for the spiritual dominion of the Roman church, highly approved of the designs of Boniface, and gave him letters authorizing his mission among the Thuringians; invested with these powers and with the pontifical blessing, he took his departure from the holy city, well stored with the necessary ornaments and utensils for the performance of the ecclesiastical rites, besides a number of books to instruct the heathens and to solace his mind amidst the cares and anxieties of his travels. After some few years the fruits of his labor became manifest, and in 723 he had baptized vast multitudes in the true faith. His success was perhaps unparalleled in the early annals of the church, and remind us of the more recent wonders wrought by the Jesuit missionaries in India.[259] Elated with these happy results, far greater than even his sanguine mind had anticipated, he sent a messenger to the Pope to acquaint his holiness of these vast acquisitions to his flock, and soon after he went himself to Rome to receive the congratulations and thanks of the Pontiff; he was then made bishop, and entrusted with the ecclesiastical direction of the new church. After his return, he spent many years in making fresh converts and maintaining the discipline of the faithful. But all these labors and these anxieties were terminated by a cruel and unnatural death; on one of his expeditions he was attacked by a body of pagans, who slew him and nearly the whole of his companions, but it is not here that a Christian must look for his reward--he must rest his hopes on the benevolence and mercy of his God in a distant and far better world. He who would wish to trace more fully these events, and so catch a glimpse of the various incidents which touch upon the current of his life, must not keep the monk constantly before his mind, he must sometimes forget him in that capacity and regard him as a _student_, and that too in the highest acceptation of the term. His youthful studies, which I have said before were pursued with unconquerable energy, embraced grammar, poetry, rhetoric, history, and the exposition of the Holy Scriptures; the Bible, indeed, he read unceasingly, and drew from it much of the vital truth with which it is inspired; but he perhaps too much tainted it with traditional interpretation and patristical logic. A student's life is always interesting; like a rippling stream, its unobtrusive gentle course is ever pleasing to watch, and the book-worms seems to find in it the counterpart of his own existence. Who can read the life and letters of the eloquent Cicero, or the benevolent Pliny, without the deepest interest; or mark their anxious solicitude after books, without sincere delight. Those elegant epistles reflect the image of their private studies, and so to behold Boniface in a student's garb, to behold his love of books and passion for learning, we must alike have recourse to his letters. The epistolary correspondence of the middle ages is a mirror of those times, far more faithful as regards their social condition than the old chronicles and histories designed for posterity; written in the reciprocity of friendly civilities, they contain the outpourings of the heart, and enable us to peep into the secret thoughts and motives of the writer; "for out of the fulness of the hearth the mouth speaketh." Turning over the letters of Boniface, we cannot but be forcibly struck with his great knowledge of Scripture; his mind seems to have been quite a concordance in itself, and we meet with epistles almost solely framed of quotations from the sacred books, in substantiation of some principle, or as grounds for some argument advanced. These are pleasurable instances, and convey a gentle hint that the greater plenitude of the Bible has not, in all cases, emulated us to study it with equal energy; there are few who would now surpass the Saxon bishop in biblical reading. Most students have felt, at some period or other, a thirst after knowledge without the means of assuaging it--have felt a craving after books when their pecuniary circumstances would not admit of their acquisition, such will sympathize with Boniface, the student in the wilds of Germany, who, far from monastic libraries, sorely laments in some of his letters this great deprivation, and entreats his friends, sometimes in most piteous terms, to send him books. In writing to Daniel, Bishop of Winchester, he asks for copies, and begs him to send the book of the six prophets, clearly and distinctly transcribed, and in large letters because his sight he says was growing weak; and because the book of the prophets was much wanted in Germany, and could not be obtained except written so obscurely, and the letters so confusedly joined together, as to be scarcely readable _ac connexas litteras discere non possum_.[260] To "Majestro Lul" he writes for the productions of bishop Aldhelm, and other works of prose, poetry, and rhyme, to console him in his peregrinations _ad consolationem peregrinationis meæ_.[261] With Abbess Eadburge he frequently corresponded, and received from her many choice and valuable volumes, transcribed by her nuns and sometimes by her own hands; at one period he writes in glowing terms and with a grateful pen for the books thus sent him, and at another time he sends for a copy of the Gospels. "Execute," says he, "a glittering lamp for our hands, and so illuminate the hearts of the Gentiles to a study of the Gospels and to the glory of Christ; and intercede, I pray thee, with your pious prayers for these pagans who are committed by the apostles to our care, that by the mercy of the Saviour of the world they may be delivered from their idolatrous practices, and united to the congregation of mother church, to the honor of the Catholic faith, and to the praise and glory of His name, who will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth."[262] All this no doubt the good abbess faithfully fulfilled; and stimulated by his friendship and these encouraging epistles, she set all the pens in her monastery industriously to work, and so gratified the Saxon missionary with those book treasures, which his soul so ardently loved; certain it is, that we frequently find him thanking her for books, and with famishing eagerness craving for more; one of his letters,[263] full of gratitude, he accompanies with a present of a silver graphium, or writing instrument, and soon after we find him thus addressing her: "To the most beloved sister, Abbess Eadburge, and all now joined to her house and under her spiritual care. Boniface, the meanest servant of God, wisheth eternal health in Christ." "My dearest sister, may your assistance be abundantly rewarded hereafter in the mansions of the angels and saints above, for the kind presents of books which you have transmitted to me. Germany rejoices in their spiritual light and consolation, because they have spread lustre into, the dark hearts of the German people; for except we have a lamp to guide our feet, we may, in the words of the Lord, fall into the snares of death. Moreover, through thy gifts I earnestly hope to be more diligent, so that my country may be honored, my sins forgiven, and myself protected from the perils of the sea and the violence of the tempest; and that He who dwells on high may lightly regard my transgression, and give utterance to the words of my mouth, that the Gospel may have free course, and be glorified among men to the honor of Christ."[264] Writing to Egbert, Archbishop of York, of whose bibliomaniacal character and fine library we have yet to speak, Boniface thanks that illustrious collector for the choice volumes he had kindly sent him, and further entreats Egbert to procure for him transcripts of the smaller works _opusculi_ and other tracts of Bede, "who, I hear," he writes, "has, by the divine grace of the Holy Spirit, been permitted to spread such lustre over your country."[265] These, that kind and benevolent prelate sent to him with other books, and received a letter full of gratitude in return, but with all the boldness of a hungry student still asking for more! especially for Bede's Commentary on the Parables of Solomon.[266] He sents to Archbishop Nothelm for a copy of the Questions of St. Augustine to Pope Gregory, with the answers of the pope, which he says he could not obtain from Rome; and in writing to Cuthbert, also Archbishop of Canterbury, imploring the aid of his earnest prayers, he does not forget to ask for books, but hopes that he may be speedily comforted with the works of Bede, of whose writings he was especially fond, and was constantly sending to his friends for transcripts of them. In a letter to Huetberth he writes for the "most sagacious dissertations of the monk Bede,"[267] and to the Abbot Dudde he sends a begging message for the Commentaries on the Epistles of Paul to the Romans and to the Corinthians[268] by the same. In a letter to Lulla, Bishop of Coena, he deplores the want of books on the phenomena and works of nature, which, he says, were _omnio incognitum_ there, and asks for a book on Cosmography;[269] and on another occasion Lulla supplied Boniface with many portions of the Holy Scriptures, and Commentaries upon them.[270] Many more of his epistles might be quoted to illustrate the Saxon missionary as an "_amator librorum_," and to display his profound erudition. In one of his letters we find him referring to nearly all the celebrated authors of the church, and so aptly, that we conclude he must have had their works on his desk, and was deeply read in patristical theology. Boniface has been fiercely denounced for his strong Roman principles, and for his firm adherence to the interests of the pope.[271] Of his theological errors, or his faults as a church disciplinarian, I have nothing here to do, but leave that delicate question to the ecclesiastical historian, having vindicated his character from the charge of ignorance, and displayed some pleasing traits which he evinced as a student and book-collector. It only remains to be mentioned, that many of the membranous treasures, which Boniface had so eagerly searched for and collected from all parts, were nearly lost forever. The pagans, who murdered Boniface and his fellow-monks, on entering their tents, discovered little to gratify their avarice, save a few relics and a number of books, which, with a barbarism corresponding with their ignorance, they threw into the river as useless; but fortunately, some of the monks, who had escaped from their hands, observing the transaction, recovered them and carried them away in safety with the remains of the martyred missionary, who was afterwards canonized Saint Boniface. The must remarkable book collector contemporary with Boniface, was Egbert of York, between whom, as we have seen, a bookish correspondence was maintained. This illustrious prelate was brother to King Egbert, of Northumbria, and received his education under Bishop Eata, at Hexham, about the year 686. He afterwards went on a visit to the Apostolic See, and on his return was made Archbishop of York.[272] He probably collected at Rome many of the fine volumes which comprised his library, and which was so celebrated in those old Saxon days; and which will be ever renowned in the annals of ancient bibliomania. The immortal Alcuin sang the praises of this library in a tedious lay; and what glorious tomes of antiquity he there enumerates! But stay, my pen should tarry whilst I introduce that worthy bibliomaniac to my reader, and relate some necessary anecdotes and facts connected with his early life and times. Alcuin was born in England, and probably in the immediate vicinity of York; he was descended from affluent and noble parents; but history is especially barren on this subject, and we have no information to instruct us respecting the antiquity of his Saxon ancestry. But if obscurity hangs around his birth, so soon as he steps into the paths of learning and ranks with the students of his day, we are no longer in doubt or perplexity; but are able from that period to his death to trace the occurrences of his life with all the ease that a searcher of monkish history can expect. He had the good fortune to receive his education from Egbert, and under his care he soon became initiated into the mysteries of grammar, rhetoric, and jurisprudence; which were relieved by the more fascinating study of poetry, physics, and astronomy.[273] So much was he esteemed by his master the archbishop, that he entrusted him with a mission to Rome, to receive from the hands of the Pope his pall; on his return he called at Parma, where he had an interview with Charles the Great; who was so captivated with his eloquence and erudition that he eagerly entreated him to remain, and to aid in diffusing throughout his kingdom the spirit of that knowledge which he had so successfully acquired in the Saxon monasteries. But Alcuin was equally anxious for the advancement of literature in his own country; and being then on a mission connected with his church, he could do no more than hold out a promise of consulting his superiors, to whose decisions he considered himself bound to submit. During the dominion of Charles, the ecclesiastical as well as the political institutions of France, were severely agitated by heresy and war: the two great questions of the age--the Worship of Images and the Nature of Christ--divided and perplexed the members of a church which had hitherto been permitted to slumber in peace and quietude. The most prominent of the heretics was Felix, Bishop of Urgel, who maintained in a letter to Elipand, Bishop of Toledo, that Christ was only the Son of God by adoption. It was about the time of the convocation of the Council of Frankfort, assembled to consider this point, that Alcuin returned to France at the earnest solicitation of Charlemagne. When the business of the council was terminated, and peace was somewhat restored, Alcuin began to think of returning to his native country; but England at that time was a land of bloodshed and tribulation, in the midst of which it would be vain to hope for retirement or the blessings of study; after some deliberation, therefore, Alcuin resolved to remain in France, where there was at least a wide field for exertion and usefulness. He communicates his intention in a letter to Offa, King of Mercia. "I was prepared," says he, "to come to you with the presents of King Charles, and to return to my country; but it seemed more advisable to me for the peace of my nation to remain abroad; not knowing what I could have done among those persons with whom no man can be secure or able to proceed in any laudable pursuit. See every holy place laid desolate by pagans, the altars polluted by perjury, the monasteries dishonored by adultery, the earth itself stained with the blood of rulers and of princes."[274] After the elapse of many years spent in the brilliant court of Charles, during which time it surpassed in literary greatness any epoch that preceded it, he was permitted to seek retirement within the walls of the abbey of St. Martin's at Tours. But in escaping from the bustle and intrigue of public life he did not allow his days to pass away in an inglorious obscurity; but sought to complete his earthly career by inspiring the rising generation with an honorable and christian ambition. His cloistered solitude, far from weakening, seems to have augmented the fertility of his genius, for it was in the quiet seclusion of this monastery that Alcuin composed the principal portion of his works; nor are these writings an accumulation of monastic trash, but the fruits of many a solitary hour spent in studious meditation. His method is perhaps fantastic and unnatural; but his style is lively, and often elegant. His numerous quotations and references give weight and interest to his writings, and clearly proves what a fine old library was at his command, and how well he knew the use of it. But for the elucidation of his character as a student, or a bibliomaniac, we naturally turn to the huge mass of his epistles which have been preserved; and in them we find a constant reference to books which shew his intimacy with the classics as well as the patristical lore of the church. In biblical literature he doubtless possessed many a choice and venerable tome; for an indefatigable scripture reader was that great man. In a curious little work of his called "_Interrogationes et Responsiones sui Liber Questionorum in Genesim_," we find an illustration of his usefulness in spreading the knowledge he had gained in this department of learning. It was written expressly for his pupil and dearest brother (_carissime frater_), Sigulf, as we learn from a letter which accompanies it. He tells him that he had composed it "that he might always have near him the means of refreshing his memory when the more ponderous volumes of the sacred Scriptures were not at his immediate call."[275] Perhaps of all his works this is the least deserving of our praise; the good old monk was apt to be prolix, if not tedious, when he found the _stylus_ in his hand and a clean skin of parchment spread invitingly before him. But as this work was intended as a manual to be consulted at any time, he was compelled to curb this propensity, and to reduce his explications to a few concise sentences. Writing under this restraint, we find little bearing the stamp of originality, not because he had nothing original to say, but because he had not space to write it in; I think it necessary to give this explanation, as some critics upon the learning of that remote age select these small and ill-digested writings as fair specimens of the literary capacity of the time, without considering why they were written or compiled at all. But as a scribe how shall we sufficiently praise that great man when we take into consideration the fine Bible which he executed for Charlemagne, and which is now fortunately preserved in the British Museum. It is a superb copy of St. Jerome's Latin version, freed from the inaccuracies of the scribes; he commenced it about the year 778, and did not complete it till the year 800, a circumstance which indicates the great care he bestowed upon it. When finished he sent it to Rome by his friend and disciple, Nathaniel, who presented it to Charlemagne on the day of his coronation: it was preserved by that illustrious monarch to the last day of his life. Alcuin makes frequent mention of this work being in progress, and speaks of the labor he was bestowing upon it.[276] We, who blame the monks for the scarcity of the Bible among them, fail to take into consideration the immense labor attending the transcriptions of so great a volume; plodding and patience were necessary to complete it. The history of this biblical gem is fraught with interest, and well worth relating. It is supposed to have been given to the monastery of Prum in Lorraine by Lothaire, the grandson of Charlemagne, who became a monk of that monastery. In the year 1576 this religious house was dissolved, but the monks preserved the manuscript, and carried it into Switzerland to the abbey of Grandis Vallis, near Basle, where it reposed till the year 1793, when, on the occupation of the episcopal territory of Basle by the French, all the property of the abbey was confiscated and sold, and the MS. under consideration came into the possession of M. Bennot, from whom, in 1822, it was purchased by M. Speyr Passavant, who brought it into general notice, and offered it for sale to the French Government at the price of 60,000 francs; this they declined, and its proprietor struck of nearly 20,000 francs from the amount; still the sum was deemed exorbitant, and with all their bibliomanical enthusiasm, the conservers of the Royal Library allowed the treasure to escape. M. Passavant subsequently brought it to England, where it was submitted to the Duke of Sussex, still without success. He also applied to the trustees of the British Museum, and Sir F. Madden informs us that "much correspondence took place; at first he asked 12,000_l._ for it; then 8,000_l._, and at last 6,500_l._, which he declared an _immense sacrifice!!_ At length, finding he could not part with his MS. on terms so absurd, he resolved to sell it if possible by auction; and accordingly, on the 27th of April, 1836, the Bible was knocked down by Mr. Evans for the sum of 1,500_l._, but for the proprietor himself, as there was not one real bidding for it. This result having brought M. Speyr Passavant in some measure to his senses, overtures were made to him on the part of the trustees to the British Museum, and the manuscript finally became the property of the nation, for the comparatively small sum of 750_l._" There can be no doubt as to the authenticity of this precious volume, the verses of Alcuin's, found in the manuscript, sufficiently prove it, for he alone could write-- "Is Carolus qui jam Scribe jussit eum." . . . . . . . "Hæc Dator Æternus cunctorum Christe bonorum, Munera de donis accipe sancta tuis, Quæ Pater Albinus devoto pectore supplex Nominus ad laudem obtulit ecce tui." Other proofs are not wanting of Alcuin's industry as a scribe, or his enthusiasm as an _amator librorum_. Mark the rapture with which he describes the library of York Cathedral, collected by Egbert: "Illic invenies veterum vestigia Patrum, Quidquid habet pro se Latio Romanus in orbe, Græcia vel quidquid transmisit Clara Latinis. Hebraicus vel quod populus bibet imbre superno Africa lucifluo vel quidquid lumine sparsit. Quod Pater Hieronymus quod sensit Hilarius, atque Ambrosius Præsul simul Augustinus, et ipse Sanctus Athanasius, quod Orosius, edit avitus: Quidquid Gregorius summus docet, et Leo Papa; Basilius quidquid, Fulgentius atque coruscant Cassiodorus item, Chrysostomus atque Johannes: Quidquid et Athelmus docuit, quid Beda Magister, Quæ Victorinus scripsêre, Boetius; atque Historici veteres, Pompeius, Plinius, ipse Acer Aristoteles, Rhetor quoque Tullius ingens; Quidquoque Sedulius, vel quid canit ipse Invencus, Alcuinus, et Clemens, Prosper, Paulinus, Arator. Quid Fortunatus, vel quid Lactantius edunt; Quæ Maro Virgilius, Statius, Lucanus, et auctor Artis Grammaticæ, vel quid scripsêre magistri; Quid Probus atque Focas, Donatus, Priscian usve, Sevius, Euticius, Pompeius, Commenianus, Invenies alios perplures, lector, ibidem Egregios studiis, arte et sermone magistros Plurima qui claro scripsêre volumina sensu: Nomina sed quorum præsenti in carmine scribi Longius est visum, quam plectri postulet usus."[277] Often did Alcuin think of these goodly times with a longing heart, and wish that he could revel among them whilst in France. How deeply would he have regretted, how many tears would he have shed over the sad destruction of that fine library, had he have known it; but his bones had mingled with the dust when the Danes dispersed those rare gems of ancient lore. If the reader should doubt the ardor of Alcuin as a book-lover, let him read the following letter, addressed to Charlemagne, which none but a bibliomaniac could pen. "I, your Flaccus, according to your admonitions and good-will, administer to some in the house of St. Martin, the sweets of the Holy Scriptures, _Sanctarum mella Scripturarum_: others I inebriate with the study of ancient wisdom; and others I fill with the fruits of grammatical lore. Many I seek to instruct in the order of the stars which illuminate the glorious vault of heaven; so that they may be made ornaments to the holy church of God and the court of your imperial majesty; that the goodness of God and your kindness may not be altogether unproductive of good. But in doing this I discover the want of much, especially those exquisite books of scholastic learning, which I possessed in my own country, through the industry of my good and most devout master (Egbert). I therefore intreat your Excellence to permit me to send into Britain some of our youths to procure those books which we so much desire, and thus transplant into France the flowers of Britain, that they may fructify and perfume, not only the garden at York, but also the Paradise of Tours; and that we may say, in the words of the song, '_Let my beloved come into his garden and eat his pleasant fruit_;' and to the young, '_Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink, abundantly, O beloved_;' or exhort, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, '_every one that thirsteth to come to the waters, and ye that hath no money, come ye, buy and eat: yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price_.' "Your Majesty is not ignorant how earnestly we are exhorted throughout the Holy Scriptures to search after wisdom; nothing so tends to the attainment of a happy life; nothing more delightful or more powerful in resisting vice; nothing more honorable to an exalted dignity; and, according to philosophy, nothing more needful to a just government of a people. Thus Solomon exclaims, '_Wisdom is better than rubies, and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared to it_.' It exalteth the humble with sublime honors. '_By wisdom kings reign and princes decree justice: by me princes rule; and nobles, even all the judges of the earth. Blessed are they that keep my ways, and blessed is the man that heareth me._' Continue, then, my Lord King, to exhort the young in the palaces of your highness to earnest pursuit in acquiring wisdom; that they may be honored in their old age, and ultimately enter into a blessed immortality. I shall truly, according to my ability, continue to sow in those parts the seeds of wisdom among your servants; remembering the command, '_In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thine hand._' In my youth I sowed the seeds of learning in the prosperous seminaries of Britain; and now, in my old age, I am doing so in France without ceasing, praying that the grace of God may bless them in both countries."[278] Such was the enthusiasm, such the spirit of bibliomania, which actuated the monks of those _bookless_ days; and which was fostered with such zealous care by Alcuin, in the cloisters of St. Martin of Tours. He appropriated one of the apartments of the monastery for the transcription of books, and called it the _museum_, in which constantly were employed a numerous body of industrious scribes: he presided over them himself, and continually exhorted them to diligence and care; to guard against the inadvertencies of unskilful copyists, he wrote a small work on orthography. We cannot estimate the merits of this essay, for only a portion of it has been preserved; but in the fragment printed among his works, we can see much that might have been useful to the scribes, and can believe that it must have tended materially to preserve the purity of ancient texts. It consists of a catalogue of words closely resembling each other, and consequently requiring the utmost care in transcribing.[279] In these pleasing labors Alcuin was assisted by many of the most learned men of the time, and especially by Arno, Archbishop of Salzburgh, in writing to whom Alcuin exclaims, "O that I could suddenly translate my _Abacus_, and with my own hands quickly embrace your fraternity with that warmth which cannot be compressed in books. Nevertheless, because I cannot conveniently come, I send more frequently my unpolished letters (_rusticitatis meæ litteras_) to thee, that they may speak for me instead of the words of my mouth." This Arno, to whom he thus affectionately writes, was no despicable scholar; he was a true lover of literature, and proved himself something of an _amator librorum_, by causing to be transcribed or bought for his use, 150 volumes,[280] but about this period the bookloving mania spread far and wide--the Emperor himself was touched with the enthusiasm; for, besides his choice private collections,[281] he collected together the ponderous writings of the holy fathers, amounting to upwards of 200 volumes, bound in a most sumptuous manner, and commanded them to be deposited in a public temple and arranged in proper order, so that those who could not purchase such treasures might be enabled to feast on the lore of the ancients. Thus did bibliomania flourish in the days of old. But I must not be tempted to remain longer in France, though the names of many choice old book collectors would entice me to do so. When I left England, to follow the steps of Alcuin, I was speaking of York, which puts me in mind of the monastery of Whitby,[282] in the same shire, on the banks of the river Eske. It was founded by Hilda, the virgin daughter of Hereric, nephew to King Edwin, about the year 680, who was its first abbess. Having put her monastery in regular order, Hilda set an illustrious example of piety and virtue, and particularly directed all under her care to a constant reading of the holy Scriptures. After a long life of usefulness and zeal she died deeply lamented by the Saxon Church,[283] an event which many powerful miracles commemorated. In the old times of the Saxons the monastery of Whitby was renowned for its learning; and many of the celebrated ecclesiastics of the day received their instruction within its walls. The most interesting literary anecdote connected with the good lady Hilda's abbacy, is the kind reception she gave to the Saxon poet Cædmon, whose paraphrase of the Book of Genesis has rendered his name immortal. He was wont to make "pious and religious verses, so that whatever was interpreted to him out of Scripture, he soon after put the same into poetical expression of much sweetness and humility in English, which was his native language. By his verses the minds of many were often excited to despise the world and to aspire to heaven. Others after him attempted in the English nation to compose religious poems, but none could ever compare with him, _for he did not learn the art of poetry from man but from God_."[284] He was indeed, as the venerable Bede says, a poet of nature's own teaching: originally a rustic herdsman, the sublime gift was bestowed upon him by inspiration, or as it is recorded, in a dream. As he slept an unknown being appeared, and commanded him to sing. Cædmon hesitated to make the attempt, but the apparition retorted, "Nevertheless, thou shalt sing--sing the origin of things." Astonished and perplexed, our poet found himself instantaneously in possession of the pleasing art; and, when he awoke, his vision and the words of his song were so impressed upon his memory, that he easily repeated them to his wondering companions.[285] He hastened at day-break to relate these marvels and to display his new found talents to the monks of Whitby, by whom he was joyfully received, and as they unfolded the divine mysteries, "The good man," says Bede, "listened like a clean animal ruminating; and his song and his verse were so winsome to hear, that his teachers wrote them down, and learned from his mouth."[286] Some contend that an ancient manuscript in the British Museum is the original of this celebrated paraphrase.[287] It is just one of those choice relics which a bibliomaniac loves to handle, but scarcely perhaps bears evidence of antiquity so remote. It is described in the catalogue as, "The substance of the Book of Genesis, with the Acts of Moses and Joshua, with brief notes and annotations, part in Latin and part in Saxon by Bede and others." The notes, if by Bede, would tend to favor the opinion that it is the original manuscript, or, at any rate, coeval with the Saxon bard. The volume, as a specimen of calligraphic art, reflects honor upon the age, and is right worthy of Lady Hilda's monastery. There are 312[288] fine velum pages in this venerable and precious volume, nearly every one of which dazzles with the talent of the skilful illuminator. The initial letters are formed, with singular taste and ingenuity, of birds, beasts, and flowers. To give an idea of the nature of these pictorial embellishments--which display more splendor of coloring than accuracy of design--I may describe the singular illumination adorning the sixth page, which represents the birth of Eve. Adam is asleep, reclining on the grass, which is depicted as so many inverted cones; and, if we may judge from the appearance of our venerable forefather, he could not have enjoyed a very comfortable repose on that memorable occasion, and the grass which grew in the Garden of Paradise must have been of a very stubborn nature when compared with the earth's verdure of the present day; for the weight of Adam alters not the position of the tender herb, which supports his huge body on their extreme summits. As he is lying on the left side Eve is ascending from a circular aperture in his right; nor would the original, if she bore any resemblance to her monkish portraiture, excite the envy or the admiration of the present age, or bear comparison with her fair posterity. Her physiognomy is anything but fascinating, and her figure is a repulsive monstrosity, _adorned_ with a profusion of luxurious hair of a brilliant blue! It is foreign to our subject to enter into any analysis of the literary beauties of this poem; let it suffice that Cædmon, the old Saxon herdsman, has been compared to our immortal Milton; and their names have been coupled together when speaking of a poet's genius.[289] But on other grounds Cædmon claims a full measure of our praise. Not only was he the "Father of Saxon poetry," but to him also belongs the inestimable honor of being the first who attempted to render into the vulgar tongue the beauties and mysteries of the Holy Scriptures; he unsealed what had hitherto been a sealed book; his paraphrase is the first translation of the holy writ on record. So let it not be forgotten that to this Milton of old our Saxon ancestors were indebted for this invaluable treasure. We are unable to trace distinctly the formation of the monastic library of Whitby. But of the time of Richard, elected abbot in the year 1148, a good monk, and formerly prior of Peterborough, we have a catalogue of their books preserved. I would refer the reader to that curious list,[290] and ask him if it does not manifest by its contents the existence of a more refined taste in the cloisters than he gave the old monks credit for. It is true, the legends of saints abound in it; but then look at the choice tomes of a classic age, whose names grace that humble catalogue, and remember that the studies of the Whitby monks were divided between the miraculous lives of holy men, and the more pleasing pages of the "Pagan Homer," the eloquence of Tully, and the wit of Juvenal, of whose subject they seemed to have been fond; for they read also the satires of Persius. I extract the names of some of the authors contained in this monkish library: Ambrose. Hugo. Theodolus. Aratores. Bernard. Avianus. Gratian. Odo. Gilda. Maximianus. Eusebius. Plato. Homer. Cicero. Juvenal. Persius. Statius. Sedulus. Prosper. Prudentius. Boethius. Donatus. Rabanus Maurus. Origen. Priscian. Gregory Nazianzen. Josephus. Bede. Gildas. Isidore. Ruffinus. Guido on Music. Diadema Monachorum. Come, the monks evidently read something besides their _Credo_, and transcribed something better than "monastic trash." A little taste for literature and learning we must allow they enjoyed, when they formed their library of such volumes as the above. I candidly admit, that when I commenced these researches I had no expectations of finding a collection of a hundred volumes, embracing so many choice works of old Greece and Rome. It is pleasant, however, to trace these workings of bibliomania in the monasteries; and it is a surprise quite agreeable and delicious in itself to meet with instances like the present. At a latter period the monastery of Rievall, in Yorkshire, possessed an excellent library of 200 volumes. This we know by a catalogue of them, compiled by one of the monks about the middle of the fourteenth century, and now preserved in the library of Jesus College, Cambridge.[291] A transcript of this manuscript was made by Mr. Halliwell, and published in his "Reliqua Antiqua,"[292] from which it may be seen that the Rievall monastery contained at that time many choice and valuable works. The numerous writings of Sts. Augustine, Bernard, Anselm, Cyprian, Origin, Haimo, Gregory, Ambrose, Isidore, Chrysostom, Bede, Aldhelm, Gregory Nazienzen, Ailred, Josephus, Rabanus Maurus, Peter Lombard, Orosius, Boethius, Justin, Seneca, with histories of the church of Britain, of Jerusalem, of King Henry, and many others equally interesting and costly, prove how industriously they used their pens, and how much they appreciated literature and learning. But in the fourteenth century the inhabitants of the monasteries were very industrious in transcribing books at a period coeval with the compilation of the Rievall catalogue, a monk of Coventry church was plying his pen with unceasing energy; John de Bruges wrote with his own hand thirty-two volumes for the library of the benedictine priory of St. Mary. The reader will see that there is little among them worthy of much observation. The MS. begins, "These are the books which John of Bruges, monk of Coventry, wrote for the Coventry church. Any who shall take them away from the church without the consent of the convent, let him be anathema."[293] In primis, ymnarium in grossa littera. Halmo upon Isaiah. A Missal for the Infirmary. A Missal. Duo missalia domini Prioris Rogeris, scilicet collectas cum secretis et postcommunione. A Benedictional for the use of the same prior. Another Benedictional for the use of the convent. Librum cartarum. Martyrologium, Rule of St. Benedict and Pastoral, in one volume. Liber cartarum. A Graduale, with a Tropario, and a Processional. Psaltar for Prior Roger. Palladium de Agricultura. Librum experimentorum, in quo ligatur compotus Helprici. A book containing Compotus manualis et Merlin, etc. An Ordinal for the Choir. Tables for the Martyrology. Kalendarium mortuorum. Ditto. Table of Responses. Capitular. Capitular for Prior Roger. A Reading Book. A book of Decretals. Psalter for the monks in the infirmary. Generationes Veteris et Novi Testamenti; ante scholasticam hystoriam et ante Psalterium domini Anselmi. Pater noster. An Ordinal. Tables for Peter Lombard's Sentences. Tables for the Psalter. Book of the Statutes of the Church. Verses on the praise of the blessed Mary. The priory of St. Mary's was founded by Leofricke, the celebrated Earl of Mercia and his good Lady Godiva, in the year 1042. "Hollingshead says that this Earl Leofricke was a man of great honor, wise, and discreet in all his doings. His high wisdome and policie stood the realme in great steed whilst he lived.... He had a noble ladie to his wife named Gudwina, at whose earnest sute he made the citie of Couentrie free of all manner of toll except horsses, and to haue that toll laid downe also, his foresaid wife rode naked through the middest of the towne without other couerture, saue onlie her haire. Moreouer partlie moued by his owne deuotion and partlie by the persuasion of his wife, he builded or beneficiallie augmented and repared manie abbeies and churches as the saide abbie or priorie at Couentrie--the abbeies of Wenlocke, Worcester, Stone, Evesham, and Leot, besides Hereford." The church of Worcester, which the good Earl had thus "beneficiallie augmented," the Saxon King Offa had endowed with princely munificence before him. In the year 780, during the time of Abbot Tilhere, or Gilhere, Offa gave to the church Croppethorne, Netherton, Elmlege Cuddeshe, Cherton, and other lands, besides a "large Bible with two clasps, made of the purest gold."[294] In the tenth century the library of Exeter Church was sufficiently extensive to require the preserving care of an amanuensis; for according to Dr. Thomas, Bishop Oswald granted in the year 985 three hides of land at Bredicot, one yardland at Ginenofra, and seven acres of meadow at Tiberton, to Godinge a monk, on condition of his fulfilling the duties of a librarian to the see, and transcribing the registers and writings of the church. It is said that the scribe Godinge wrote many choice books for the library.[295] I do not find any remarkable book donation, save now and then a volume or two, in the annals of Worcester Church; nor have I been able to discover any old parchment catalogue to tell of the number or rarity of their books; for although probably most monasteries had one compiled, being enjoined to do so by the regulations of their order, they have long ago been destroyed; for when we know that fine old manuscripts were used by the bookbinders after the Reformation, we can easily imagine how little value would be placed on a mere catalogue of names. But to return again to Godiva, that illustrious lady gave the monks, after the death of her lord, many landed possessions, and bestowed upon them the blessings of a library.[296] Thomas Cobham, who was consecrated Bishop of Worcester in the year 1317, was a great "_amator librorum_," and spent much time and money in collecting books. He was the first who projected the establishment of a public library at Oxford, which he designed to form over the old Congregation House in the churchyard of St. Mary's, but dying soon after in the year 1327, the project was forgotten till about forty years after, when I suppose the example of the great bibliomaniac Richard de Bury drew attention to the matter; for his book treasures were then "deposited there, and the scholars permitted to consult them on certain conditions."[297] Bishop Carpenter built a library for the use of the monastery of Exeter Church, in the year 1461, over the charnal house; and endowed it with £10 per annum as a salary for an amanuensis.[298] But the books deposited there were grievously destroyed during the civil wars; for on the twenty-fourth of September, 1642, when the army under the Earl of Essex came to Worcester, they set about "destroying the organ, breaking in pieces divers beautiful windows, wherein the foundation of the church was lively historified with painted glass;" they also "rifled the library, with the records and evidences of the church, tore in pieces the Bibles and service books pertaining to the quire."[299] Sad desecration of ancient literature! But the reader of history will sigh over many such examples. The registers of Evesham Monastery, near Worcester, speak of several monkish bibliophiles, and the bookish anecdotes relating to them are sufficiently interesting to demand some attention here. Ailward, who was abbot in the year 1014, gave the convent many relics and ornaments, and what was still better a quantity of books.[300] He was afterwards promoted to the see of London, over which he presided many years; but age and infirmity growing upon him, he was anxious again to retire to Evesham, but the monks from some cause or other were unwilling to receive him back; at this he took offence, and seeking in the monastery of Ramsey the quietude denied him there, he demanded back all the books he had given them.[301] His successor Mannius was celebrated for his skill in the fine arts, and was an exquisite worker in metals, besides an ingenious scribe and illuminator. He wrote and illuminated with his own hand, for the use of his monastery, a missal and a large Psalter.[302] Walter, who was abbot in the year 1077, gave also many books to the library,[303] and among the catalogue of sumptuous treasures with which Reginald, a succeeding abbot, enriched the convent, a great textus or gospels, with a multitude of other books, _multa alia libros_, are particularly specified.[304] Almost equally liberal were the choice gifts bestowed upon the monks by Adam (elected A. D. 1161); but we find but little in our way among them, except a fine copy of the "Old and New Testament with a gloss." No mean gift I ween in those old days; but one which amply compensated for the deficiency of the donation in point of numbers. But all these were greatly surpassed by a monk whom it will be my duty now to introduce; and to an account of whose life and bibliomanical propensities, I shall devote a page or two. Like many who spread a lustre around the little sphere of their own, and did honor, humbly and quietly to the sanctuary of the church in those Gothic days, he is unknown to many; and might, perhaps, have been entirely forgotten, had not time kindly spared a document which testifies to his piety and book-collecting industry. The reader will probably recollect many who, by their shining piety and spotless life, maintained the purity of the Christian faith in a church surrounded by danger and ignorance, and many a bright name, renowned for their virtue or their glory of arms, who flourished during the early part of the thirteenth century; but few have heard of a good and humble monk named Thomas of Marleberg. Had circumstances designed him for a higher sphere, had affairs of state, or weighty duties of an ecclesiastical import, been guided by his hand, his name would have been recorded with all the flourish of monkish adulation; but the learning and the prudence of that lowly monk was confined to the little world of Evesham; and when his earthly manes were buried beneath the cloisters within the old convent walls, his name and good deeds were forgotten by the world, save in the hearts of his fraternity. "But past is all his fame. The very spot Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot." In a manuscript in the Cotton Library there is a document called "The good deeds of Prior Thomas," from which the following facts have been extracted.[305] From this interesting memorial of his labors, we learn that Thomas had acquired some repute among the monks for his great knowledge of civil and canon law; so that when any difficulty arose respecting the claims or privileges of the monastery, or when any important matter was to be transacted, his advice was sought and received with deference and respect. Thus three years after his admission the bishop of Worcester intimated his intention of paying the monastery a visitation; a practice which the bishops of that see had not enforced since the days of abbot Alurie. The abbot and convent however considered themselves free from the jurisdiction of the bishop; and acting on the advice of Thomas of Marleberg, they successfully repulsed him. The affair was quite an event, and seems to have caused much sensation among them at the time; and is mentioned to show with what esteem Thomas was regarded by his monkish brethren. After a long enumeration of "good works" and important benefactions, such as rebuilding the tower and repairing the convent, we are told that "In the second year of Randulp's abbacy, Thomas, then dean, went with him to Rome to a general council, where, by his prudence and advice, a new arrangement in the business of the convent rents was confirmed, and many other useful matters settled." Here I am tempted to refer to the _arrangements_, for they offer pleasing illustrations of the monk as an "_amator librorum_." Mark how his thoughts dwelt--even when surrounded by those high dignitaries of the church, and in the midst of that important council--on the library and the scriptorium of his monastery. "_To the Prior belongs the tythes of Beningar the both great and small, to defray the expenses of procuring parchment, and to procure manuscripts for transcription._" And in another clause it is settled that "_To the Office of the Precentor belongs the Manner of Hampton, from which he will receive five shillings annually, besides ten and eightpence from the tythes of Stokes and Alcester, with which he is to find all the ink and parchment for the Scribes of the Monastery, colours for illuminating, and all that is necessary for binding the books_."[306] Pleasing traits are these of his bookloving passion; and doubtless under his guidance the convent library grew and flourished amazingly. But let us return to the account of his "good works." "Returning from Rome after two years he was elected sacrist. He then made a reading-desk behind the choir,[307] which was much wanted in the church, and appointed stated readings to be held near the tomb of Saint Wilsius.... Leaving his office thus rich in good works, he was then elected prior. In this office he buried his predecessor, Prior John, in a new mausoleum; and also John, surnamed Dionysius; of the latter of whom Prior Thomas was accustomed to say, 'that he had never known any man who so perfectly performed every kind of penance as he did for more than thirty years, in fasting and in prayer; in tears and in watchings; in cold and in corporeal inflictions; in coarseness and roughness of clothing, and in denying himself bodily comforts, far more than any other of the brethren; all of which he rather dedicated in good purposes and to the support of the poor." Thus did many an old monk live, practising all this with punctilious care as the essence of a holy life, and resting upon the fallacy that these cruel mortifyings of the flesh would greatly facilitate the acquisition of everlasting ease and joy in a better world; as if God knew not, better than themselves, what chastisements and afflictions were needful for them. We may sigh with pain over such instances of mistaken piety and fanatical zeal in all ages of the church; yet with all their privations, and with all their macerations of the flesh, there was a vast amount of human pride mingled with their humiliation. But He who sees into the hearts of all--looking in his benevolence more at the intention than the outward form, may perhaps sometimes find in it the workings of a true christian piety, and so reward it with his love. Let us trust so in the charity of our faith, and proceed to notice that portion of the old record which is more intimately connected with our subject. We read that "Thomas had brought with him to the convent, on his entering, many books, of both canon and civil law; as well as the books by which he had regulated the schools of Oxford and Exeter before he became a monk. He likewise had one book of Democritus; and the book of Antiparalenion, a gradual book, according to Constantine; Isidore's Divine Offices, and the Quadrimum of Isidore; Tully's de Amicitia; Tully de Senectute et de Paradoxis; Lucan, Juvenal, and many other authors, _et multos alios auctores_, with a great number of sermons, with many writings on theological questions; on the art and rules of grammar and the book of accents. After he was prior he made a great breviary, better than any at that time in the monastery, with Haimo, on the Apocalypse, and a book containing the lives of the patrons of the church of Evesham; with an account of the deeds of all the good and bad monks belonging to the church, in one volume. He also wrote and bound up the same lives and acts in another volume separately. He made also a great Psalter, _magnum psalterium_, superior to any contained in the monastery, except the glossed ones. He collected and wrote all the necessary materials for four antiphoners, with their musical notes, himself; except what the brothers of the monastery transcribed for him. He also finished many books that William of Lith, of pious memory, commenced--the Marterologium, the Exceptio Missæ, and some excellent commentaries on the Psalter and Communion of the Saints in the old antiphoners. He also bought the four Gospels, with glosses, and Isaiah and Ezekiel, also glossed;[308] the Pistillæ upon Matthew; some Allegories on the Old Testament; the Lamentations of Jeremiah, with a gloss; the Exposition of the Mass, according to Pope Innocent; and the great book of Alexander Necham, which is called _Corrogationes Promethea de partibus veteris testamenti et novæ_.... He also caused to be transcribed in large letters the book concerning the offices of the abbey, from the Purification of St. Mary to the Feast of Easter; the prelections respecting Easter; Pentecost, and the blessings at the baptismal fonts. He also caused a volume, containing the same works, to be transcribed, but in a smaller hand; all of which the convent had not before. He made also the tablet for the locutory in the chapel of St. Anne, towards the west. After the altar of St. Mary in the crypts had been despoiled by thieves of its books and ornaments, to the value of ten pounds, he contributed to their restoration." Thomas was equally liberal in other matters. His whole time and wealth were spent in rebuilding and repairing the monastery and adding to its comforts and splendor. He had a great veneration for antiquity, and was especially anxious to restore those parts which were dilapidated by time; the old inscriptions on the monuments and altars he carefully re-inscribed. It is recorded that he renewed the inscription on the great altar himself, without the aid of a book, _sine libro_; which was deemed a mark of profound learning in my lord abbot by his monkish surbordinates. With this I conclude my remarks on Thomas of Marleberg, leaving these extracts to speak for him. It is pleasing to find that virtue so great, and industry so useful met with its just reward; and that the monks of Evesham proved how much they appreciated such talents, by electing him their abbot, in 1229, which, for seven years he held with becoming piety and wisdom. The annals of the monastery[309] testify that "In the year of our Lord one thousand three hundred and ninety-two, and the fifteenth of the reign of King Richard the Second, on the tenth calends of May, died the venerable Prior Nicholas Hereford, of pious memory, who, as prior of the church of Evesham, lived a devout and religious life for forty years." He held that office under three succeeding abbots, and filled it with great honor and industry. He was a dear lover of books, and spent vast sums in collecting together his private library, amounting to more than 100 volumes; some of these he wrote with his own hand, but most of them he bought _emit_. A list of these books is given in the Harleian Register, and many of the volumes are described as containing a number of tracts, bound up in one, _cum aliis tractatibus in eodem volumine_. Some of these display the industry of his pen, and silently tell us of his Christian piety. Among those remarkable for their bulk, it is pleasurable to observe a copy of the Holy Scriptures, which was doubtless a comfort to the venerable prior in the last days of his green old age; and which probably guided him in the even tenor of that _devout and religious life_, for which he was so esteemed by the monks of Evesham. He possessed also some works of Bernard Augustin, and Boethius, whose Consolation of Philosophy few book-collectors of the middle ages were without. To many of the books the prices he gave for them, or at which they were then valued, are affixed: a "_Summa Prædicantium_" is valued at eight marks, and a "_Burley super Politices_" at seven marks. We may suspect monk Nicholas of being rather a curious collector in his way, for we find in his library some interesting volumes of popular literature. He probably found much pleasure in perusing his copy of the marvelous tale of "Beufys of Hampton," and the romantic "Mort d'Arthur," both sufficiently interesting to relieve the monotonous vigils of the monastery. But I must not dwell longer on the monastic bibliophiles of Evesham, other libraries and bookworms call for some notice from my pen. FOOTNOTES: [245] "Rediens autem, ubi Viennam pervenit, eruptitios sibi quos apud amicos commendaverat, recepit." p. 26. _Vit. Abbat. Wear. 12mo. edit. Ware._ [246] The youngest son of Oswy, or Oswis, king of Northumbria, who succeeded his father in the year 670, Alfred his elder brother being for a time set aside on the grounds of his illegitimacy; yet Alfred was a far more enlightened and talented prince than Ecgfrid, and much praised in Saxon annals for his love of learning. [247] "Magnâ quidem copiâ voluminum sacrorum; sed non minori sicut et prius sanctorum imaginum numere detatus." _Vit. Abb._ p. 38. [248] "Bibliothecam, quam de Roma nobillissimam copiosessimanque advenaret ad instructionem ecclesiæ necessariam sollicite servari integram, nec per incuriam foedari aut passim dissipari præcepit." [249] Bede says that he was "learned in Holy Scriptures." Dr. Henry mentions this anecdote in his _Hist. of England_, vol. ii. p. 287, 8vo. ed. which has led many secondary compilers into a curious blunder, by mistaking the king here alluded to for Alfred the Great: even Didbin, in his Bibliomania, falls into the same error although he suspected some mistake; he calls him _our immortal Alfrid_, p. 219, and seems puzzled to account for the anachronism, but does not take the trouble to enquire into the matter; Heylin's little Help to History would have set him right, and shown that while Alfrede king of Northumberland reigned in 680, Alfred king of England lived more than two centuries afterwards, pp. 25 and 29. [250] The reader may perhaps smile at this, but it has long been my custom to carry some 8vo. edition of a monkish writer about me, when time or opportunity allowed me to spend a few hours among the ruins of the olden time. I recall with pleasure the recollection of many such rambles, and especially my last--a visit to Netley Abbey. What a sweet spot for contemplation; surrounded by all that is lovely in nature, it drives our old prejudices away, and touches the heart with piety and awe. Often have I explored its ruins and ascended its crumbling parapets, admiring the taste of those Cistercian monks in choosing so quiet, romantic, and choice a spot, and one so well suited to lead man's thoughts to sacred things above. [251] Bede, _Vit. Abb. Wear._ p. 46. [252] The fine libraries thus assiduously collected were destroyed by the Danes; that of Jarrow in the year 793, and that of Wearmouth in 867. [253] Emer, Vita. ap. Mab. Act. SS. tom. iii. 199. [254] Bede's Eccles. Hist. b. iii. c. xxv. [255] "Idemque vir Dei quatuor Evangelica et Bibliothecam pluresque libros Novi et Veteris Testamenti cum tabulis tectis auro purissimo et pretiosis gemmis mirabili artificio fabricatis ad honorem Dei." Dugdale's Monast. vol. ii. p. 133. [256] In 665 he was raised to the episcopacy of all Northumbria. [257] He was deprived of his bishopric in the year 678, and the see was divided into those of York and Hexham. But for the particulars of his conduct see _Soame's Anglo. Sax. Church_, p. 63, with _Dr. Lingard's Ang. Sax. Church_, vol. i. p. 245; though without accusing either of misrepresentation, I would advise the reader to search (if he has the opportunity), the original authorities for himself, it is a delicate matter for a Roman or an English churchman to handle with impartiality. [258] His Saxon name was Winfrid, or Wynfrith, but he is generally called Boniface, Archbishop of Mentz. [259] The mere act of baptizing constitutes "_conversion_" in Jesuitical phraseology; and thousands were so converted in a few days by the followers of Ignatius. A similar process was used in working out the miracles of the Saxon missionary. He was rather too conciliating and too anxious for a "converting miracle," to be over particular; but it was all for the good of the church papal, to whom he was a devoted servant; the church papal therefore could not see the fault. [260] Ep. iii. p. 7, Ed. 4to.--_Moguntiæ_, 1629. [261] Ep. iv. p. 8. [262] Ep. xiii. [263] Ep. vii. p. 11. [264] Ep. xiv. See also Ep. xxviii. p. 40. [265] Ep. viii. p. 12. [266] Ep. lxxxv. p. 119. [267] Ep. ix. p. 13. [268] Ep. xxii. p. 36. [269] Ep. xcix. p. 135. [270] Ep. cxi. p. 153. [271] The accusation is not a groundless one. Foxe, in his _Acts and Monuments_, warmly upbraids him; and Aikins in his _Biog. Dict._, has acted in a similar manner. But the best guides are his letters--they display his faults and his virtues too. [272] This was in the year 731. _Goodwin_ says he "sate 36 years, and died an. 767." He says, "This man by his owne wisedome, and the authority of his brother, amended greatly the state of his church and see. He procured the archiepiscopall pall to be restored to his churche againe, and erected a famous library at York, which he stored plentifully with an infinite number of excellent bookes." p. 441. [273] De Pontificibus et Sanctis Ecclesiæ Eboracensis. [274] Alcuini Oper., tom. i. vol. 1, p. 57, translated in Sharpe's William of Malmsbury, p. 73. [275] Opera, tom. i. p. 305. [276] In a letter to Gisla, sister to the emperor, he writes "Totius forsitan evangelii Johannis expositionem direxissem vobis, si me non occupasset Domini Regis præceptum in emendatione Veteri Novique Testamenti."--_Opera_, tom. i. vol. 7, p. 591. [277] Alcuini, ap. Gale, tom. iii. p. 730. [278] Alcuini, Oper. tom. i. p. 52. Ep. xxxviii. It was written about 796. [279] He was also very careful in instructing the scribes to punctuate with accuracy, which he deemed of great importance. See Ep. lxxxv. p. 126. [280] Necrolog. MS. Capituli, Metropolitani Salisburgensis, _apud_ Froben, tom. i. p. lxxxi. [281] Charlemagne founded several libraries;--see _Koeler, Dissert. de Biblio. Caroli Mog._ published in 1727. Eginhart mentions his private collection, and it is thus spoken of in the emperor's will; "Similiter et de libris, quorum magna in bibliotheca sua copiam congregavit: statuit ut ab iis qui eos habere uellet, justo pretio redimeretur, pretin in pauperes erogaretur." Echin. Vita Caroli, p. 366, edit. 24mo. 1562. Yet we cannot but regret the dispersion of this imperial library. [282] Formerly called _Streaneshalch_. [283] At the age of 66, _Bede_, b. iv. cxxiii. [284] Bede, b. iv. c. xxiv. [285] John de Trevisa says, "Cædmon of Whitaby was inspired of the Holy Gost, and made wonder poisyes an Englisch, meiz of al the Storyes of Holy Writ." _MS. Harleian_, 1900, fol. 43, a. [286] Ibid. [287] Cottonian Collection marked _Claudius_, B. iv. There is another MS. in the Bodleian (_Junius_ XI.) It was printed by Junius in 1655, in 4to. Sturt has engraved some of the illuminations in his _Saxon Antiquities_, and they were also copied and published by J. Greene, F. A. S., in 1754, in fifteen plates. [288] It is unfortunately imperfect at the end, and wants folio 32. [289] Take the following as an instance of the similarity of thought between the two poets. Sharon Turner thus renders a portion of Satan's speech from the Saxon of Cædmon: "Yet why should I sue for his grace? Or bend to him with any obedience? I may be a God as he is. Stand by me strong companions." _Hist. Anglo Sax._ vol. ii. p. 314. The idea is with Milton: . . . . . . . . To bow to one for grace With suppliant knee, and deify his power, Who from the terror of this arm so late Doubted his empire; that were low indeed! That were an ignominy, and shame beneath This downfall! _Paradise Lost_, b. i. [290] He will find it in Charlton's History of Whitby, 4to. 1779, p. 113. [291] Marked MS. N. B. 17. [292] Wright and Halliwell's Rel. Antiq. vol. ii. p. 180. [293] It is printed in Hearne's History of Glastonbury, from a MS. in the Bodleian Library, Ed. _Oxon_, 1722, _Appendix_ x. p. 291. [294] Bibliothecam optimam cum duobus armillis ex auro purissimo fabricatis.--_Heming. Chart_, p. 95. [295] Thomas's Survey, of Worcester Church, 4to. 1736, p. 46. The Scriptorium of the monastery was situated in the cloisters, and a Bible in Bennet College, Cambridge, was written therein by a scribe named Senatus, as we learn from a note printed in Nasmith's Catalogue, which proves it to have been written during the reign of Henry II. It is a folio MS. on vellum, and a fine specimen of the talent of the expert scribe.--See _Nasmith's Catalogus Libr. MSS._, 4to. _Camb._ 1777, p. 31. [296] Since writing the above, which I gave on the authority of Green (_Hist. of Worc._ vol. i. p. 79), backed with the older one of Thomas (_Survey Ch. Worc._ p. 70), I have had the opportunity of consulting the reference given by them (_Heming, Chart._ p. 262), and was somewhat surprised to find the words "_Et bibliothecam, in duobus partibus divisam_," the foundation of this pleasing anecdote. "_Bibliothecam_," however, was the Latin for a Bible in the middle ages: so that in fact the Lady Godiva gave them a Bible divided into two parts, or volumes. [297] Chalmer's Hist. of the Colleges of Oxford, p. 458. Wood's Hist. Antiq. of Oxon, lib. ii. p. 48. [298] Green's Hist. Worc. p. 79. [299] Sir W. Dugdale's View of the Troubles in England, _Folio_, p. 557. We can easily credit the destruction of the organ and painted windows, so obnoxious to Puritan piety; but with regard to the _Bibles_, we may suspect the accuracy of the Royalist writer, col. 182. [300] Symeon Dunelm. Tweyed. Script. x. [301] Habingdon, MSS. Godwin de Præf, p. 231. [302] Tindal's Hist. of Evesham, p. 248. [303] _Ibid._ p. 250. [304] MS. Harl., No. 3763, p. 180. [305] MS. Cot. Vesp. b. xxiv. It is printed in Latin in _Nash's Worcestershire_, vol. i. p. 419, and translated in _Tindal's Hist. of Worcs._ p. 24, all of which I have used with _Dugdale's Monast._ vol. ii. p. 5. [306] _MS. Cottonian Augustus II._ No. 11. "Ex his debet invenire præcentor incaustum omnibus scriptoribus monasterii; et Pergamenum ad brevia, et colores ad illuminandum, et necessaria ad legandum libros." See _Dugdale's Monast._ vol. ii. p. 24. [307] After the elapse of so many years, the research of the antiquarian has brought this desk to light; an account of it will be found in the Archeologia, vol. xvii. p. 278. [308] "Emit etiam quator evangelia glosata, et Yaiam et Ezechielem glossatos." [309] Harleian MSS., No. 3763. CHAPTER IX. _Old Glastonbury Abbey.--Its Library.--John of Taunton.--Richard Whiting.--Malmsbury.--Bookish Monks of Gloucester Abbey.--Leofric of Exeter and his private library.--Peter of Blois. Extracts from his letters.--Proved to have been a great classical student, etc., etc._ The fame of Glastonbury Abbey will attract the steps of the western traveller; and if he possess the spirit of an antiquary, his eye will long dwell on those mutilated fragments of monkish architecture. The bibliophile will regard it with still greater love; for, in its day, it was one of the most eminent repositories of those treasures which it is his province to collect. For more than ten hundred years that old fabric has stood there, exciting in days of remote antiquity the veneration of our pious forefathers, and in modern times the admiration of the curious. Pilgrim! tread lightly on that hallowed ground! sacred to the memory of the most learned and illustrious of our Saxon ancestry. The bones of princes and studious monks closely mingle with the ruins which time has caused, and bigotry helped to desecrate. Monkish tradition claims, as the founder of Glastonbury Abbey, St. Joseph of Arimathea, who, sixty-three years after the incarnation of our Lord, came to spread the truths of the Gospel over the island of Britain. Let this be how it may, we leave it for more certain data. After, says a learned antiquary, its having been built by St. Davis, Archbishop of Menevia, and then again restored by "twelve well affected men in the north;" it was entirely pulled down by Ina, king of the West Saxons, who "new builded the abbey of Glastonburie[310] in a fenny place out of the way, to the end the monks mought so much the more give their mindes to heavenly thinges, and chiefely use the contemplation meete for men of such profession. This was the fourth building of that monasterie."[311] The king completed his good work by erecting a beautiful chapel, garnished with numerous ornaments and utensils of gold and silver; and among other costly treasures, William of Malmsbury tells us that twenty pounds and sixty marks of gold was used in making a coopertoria for a book of the Gospels.[312] Would that I had it in my power to write the literary history of Glastonbury Abbey; to know what the monks of old there transcribed would be to acquire the history of learning in those times; for there was little worth reading in the literature of the day that was not copied by those industrious scribes. But if our materials will not enable us to do this, we may catch a glimpse of their well stored shelves through the kindness and care of William Britone the Librarian, who compiled a work of the highest interest to the biographer. It is no less than a catalogue of the books contained in the common library of the abbey in the year one thousand two hundred and forty-eight. Four hundred choice volumes comprise this fine collection;[313] and will not the reader be surprised to find among them a selection of the classics, with the chronicles, poetry, and romantic productions of the middle ages, besides an abundant store of the theological writings of the primitive Church. But I have not transcribed a large proportion of this list, as the extracts given from other monastic catalogues may serve to convey an idea of their nature; but I cannot allow one circumstance connected with this old document to pass without remark. I would draw the reader's attention to the fine bibles which commence the list, and which prove that the monks of Glastonbury Abbey were fond and devoted students of the Bible. It begins with-- Bibliotheca una in duobus voluminibus. Alia Bibliotheca integra vetusta, set legibilis. Bibliotheca integræ minoris litteræ. Dimidia pars Bibliothecæ incipiens à Psalterio, vetusta. Bibliotheca magna versificata. Alia versificata in duobus voluminibus. Bibliotheca tres versificata.[314] But besides these, the library contained numerous detached books and many copies of the Gospels, an ample collection of the fathers, and the controversal writings of the middle ages; and among many others, the following classics-- Aristotle. Livy. Orosius. Sallust. Donatus. Sedulus. Virgil's Æneid. Virgil's Georgics. Virgil's Bucolics. Æsop. Tully. Boethius. Plato. Isagoge of Porphyry. Prudentius. Fortuanus. Persius. Pompeius. Isidore. Smaragdius. Marcianus. Horace. Priscian. Prosper. Aratores. Claudian. Juvenal. Cornutus. I must not omit to mention that John de Taunton, a monk and an enthusiastic _amator librorum_, and who was elected abbot in the year 1271, collected forty choice volumes, and gave them to the library, _dedit librario_, of the abbey; no mean gift, I ween, in the thirteenth century. They included-- Questions on the Old and New Law. St. Augustine upon Genesis. Ecclesiastical Dogmas. St. Bernard's Enchiridion. St. Bernard's Flowers. Books of Wisdom, with a Gloss. Postil's upon Jeremiah and the lesser Prophets. Concordances to the Bible. Postil's of Albertus upon Matthew, and the Lamentations of Jeremiah and others, in one volume. Postil's upon Mark. Postil's upon John, with a Discourse on the Epistles throughout the year. Brother Thomas Old and New Gloss. Morabilius on the Gospels and Epistles. St. Augustine on the Trinity. Epistles of Paul glossed. St. Augustine's City of God. Kylwardesby upon the Letter of the Sentences. Questions concerning Crimes. Perfection of the Spiritual Life. Brother Thomas' Sum of Divinity, in four volumes. Decrees and Decretals. A Book of Perspective. Distinctions of Maurice. Books of Natural History, in two volumes. Book on the Properties of Things.[315] Subsequent to this, in the time of one book-loving abbot, an addition of forty-nine volumes was made to the collection by his munificence and the diligence of his scribes; and time has allowed the modern bibliophile to gaze on a catalogue of these treasures. I wish the monkish annalist had recorded the life of this early bibliomaniac, but unfortunately we know little of him. But they were no mean nor paltry volumes that he transcribed. It is with pleasure I see the catalogue commenced by a copy of the Holy Scriptures; and the many commentaries upon them by the fathers of the church enumerated after it, prove my Lord Abbot to have been a diligent student of the Bible. Nor did he seek God alone in his written word; but wisely understood that his Creator spoke to him also by visible works; and probably loved to observe the great wisdom and design of his God in the animated world; for a Pliny's Natural History stands conspicuous on the list, as the reader will perceive. THE BIBLE. Pliny's Natural History. Cassiodorus upon the Psalms. Three great Missals. Two Reading Books. A Breviary for the Infirmary. Jerome upon Jeremiah and Isaiah. Origen upon the Old Testament. Origen's Homilies. Origen upon the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans. Jerome upon the Epistles to the Galatians, to Ephesians, to Titus, and to Philemon. Lives of the Fathers. Collations of the Fathers. Breviary for the Hospital. An Antiphon. Pars una Moralium. Cyprian's Works. Register. Liber dictus Paradisus. Jerome against Jovinian. Ambrose against Novatian. Seven Volumes of the Passions of the Saints for the circle of the whole year. Lives of the Cæsars. Acts of the Britons. Acts of the English. Acts of the Franks. Pascasius. Radbert on the Body and Blood of the Lord. Book of the Abbot of Clarevalle _de Amando Deo_. Hugo de S. Victore de duodecim gradibus Humilitatis et de Oratione. Physiomania Lapedarum et Liber Petri Alsinii in uno volumine. Rhetoric, two volumes. Quintilian _de Causes_, in one volume. Augustine upon the Lord's Prayer and upon the Psalm _Miserero mei Deus_. A Benedictional. Decreta Cainotensis Episcopi. Jerome upon the Twelve Prophets, and upon the Lamentations of Jeremiah. Augustine upon the Trinity. Augustine upon Genesis. Isidore's Etymology. Paterius. Augustine on the Words of our Lord. Hugo on the Sacraments. Cassinus on the Incarnation of our Lord. Anselm's _Cui Deus Homo_.[316] The reader, I think, will allow that the catalogue enumerates but little unsuitable for a christian's study; he may not admire the principles contained in some of them, or the superstition with which many of them are loaded; but after all there were but few volumes among them from which a Bible reading monk might not have gleaned something good and profitable. These books were transcribed about the end of the thirteenth century, after the catalogue of the monastic library mentioned above was compiled. Walter Taunton, elected in the year 1322, gave to the library several volumes; and his successor, Adam Sodbury,[317] elected in the same year, increased it with a copy of the whole Bible,[318] a Scholastic history, Lives of Saints, a work on the Properties of Things, two costly Psalters, and a most beautifully bound Benedictional. But doubtless many a bookworm nameless in the page of history, dwelled within those walls apart from worldly solicitude and strife; relieving what would otherwise have been an insupportable monotony, with sweet converse, with books, or the avocations of a scribe. Well, years rolled on, and this fair sanctuary remained in all its beauty, encouraging the trembling christian, and fostering with a mother's care the literature and learning of the time. Thus it stood till that period, so dark and unpropitious for monkish ascendency, when Protestant fury ran wild, and destruction thundered upon the heads of those poor old monks! A sad and cruel revenge for enlightened minds to wreck on mistaken piety and superstitious zeal. How widely was the fine library scattered then. Even a few years after its dissolution, when Leland spent some days exploring the book treasures reposing there, it had been broken up, and many of them lost; yet still it must have been a noble library, for he tells us that it was "scarcely equalled in all Britain;" and adds, in the spirit of a true bibliomaniac, that he no sooner passed the threshold than the very sight of so many sacred remains of antiquity struck him with awe and astonishment. The reader will naturally wish that he had given us a list of what he found there; but he merely enumerates a selection of thirty-nine, among which we find a Grammatica Eriticis, formerly belonging to Saint Dunstan; a life of Saint Wilfrid; a Saxon version of Orosius, and the writings of William of Malmsbury.[319] The antiquary will now search in vain for any vestige of the abbey library; even the spot on which it stood is unknown to the curious. No christian, let his creed be what it may, who has learnt from his master the principles of charity and love, will refuse a tear to the memory of Richard Whiting, the last of Glastonbury's abbots. Poor old man! Surely those white locks and tottering limbs ought to have melted a Christian heart; but what charity or love dwelt within the soul of that rapacious monarch? Too old to relinquish his long cherished superstitions; too firm to renounce his religious principles, Whiting offered a firm opposition to the reformation. The fury of the tyrant Henry was aroused, and that grey headed monk was condemned to a barbarous death. As a protestant I blush to write it, yet so it was; after a hasty trial, if trial it can be called, he was dragged on a hurdle to a common gallows erected on Torr Hill, and there, in the face of a brutal mob, with two of his companion monks, was he hung! Protestant zeal stopped not here, for when life had fled they cut his body down, and dividing it into quarters, sent one to each of the four principal towns; and as a last indignity to that mutilated clay, stuck his head on the gate of the old abbey, over which he had presided with judicious care in the last days of his troubled life. It was Whiting's wish to bid adieu in person to his monastery, in which in more prosperous times he had spent many a quiet hour; it is said that even this, the dying prayer of that poor old man, they refused to grant.[320] On viewing the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, so mournful to look upon, yet so splendid in its decay, we cannot help exclaiming with Michael Dayton,-- "On whom for this sad waste, should justice lay the crime." Whilst in the west we cannot pass unnoticed the monastery of Malmsbury, one of the largest in England, and which possessed at one time an extensive and valuable library; but it was sadly ransacked at the Reformation, and its vellum treasures sold to the bakers to heat their stoves, or applied to the vilest use; not even a catalogue was preserved to tell the curious of a more enlightened age, what books the old monks read there; but perhaps, and the blood runs cold as the thought arises in the mind, a perfect Livy was among them, for a rare _amator librorum_ belonging to this monastery, quotes one of the lost Decades.[321] I allude to William of Malmsbury, one of the most enthusiastic bibliomaniacs of his age. From his youth he dwelt within the abbey walls, and received his education there. His constant study and indefatigable industry in collecting and perusing books, was only equalled by his prudence and by his talents; he soon rose in the estimation of his fellow monks, who appointed him their librarian, and ultimately offered him the abbacy, which he refused with Christian humility, fearing too, lest its contingent duties would debar him from a full enjoyment of his favorite avocation; but of his book passion let William of Malmsbury speak for himself: "A long period has elapsed since, as well through the care of my parents as my own industry, I became familiar with books. This pleasure possessed me from my childhood; this source of delight has grown with my years; indeed, I was so instructed by my father, that had I turned aside to other pursuits, I should have considered it as jeopardy to my soul, and discredit to my character. Wherefore, mindful of the adage, 'covet what is necessary,' I constrained my early age to desire eagerly that which it was disgraceful not to possess. I gave indeed my attention to various branches of literature, but in different degrees. Logic, for instance, which gives arms to eloquence, I contented myself with barely learning: medicine, which ministers to the health of the body, I studied with somewhat more attention. But now, having scrupulously examined the various branches of ethics, I bow down to its majesty, because it spontaneously inverts itself to those who study it, and directs their minds to moral practice, history more especially; which by a certain agreeable recapitulation of past events, excites its readers by example, to frame their lives to the pursuit of good or to aversion from evil. When, therefore, at my own expense I had procured some historians of foreign nations, I proceeded during my domestic leisure, to inquire if anything concerning our own country could be found worthy of handing down to posterity. Hence it arose, that not content with the writings of ancient times, I began myself to compose, not indeed to display my learning, which is comparatively nothing, but to bring to light events lying concealed in the confused mass of antiquity. In consequence, rejecting vague opinions, I have studiously sought for chronicles far and near, though I confess I have scarcely profited anything by this industry; for perusing them all I still remained poor in information, though I ceased not my researches as long as I could find anything to read."[322] Having read this passage, I think my readers will admit that William of Malmsbury well deserves a place among the bibliomaniacs of the middle ages. As an historian his merit is too generally known and acknowledged to require an elucidation here. He combines in most cases a strict attention to fact, with the rare attributes of philosophic reflection, and sometimes the bloom of eloquence. But simplicity of narrative constitute the greatest and sometimes the only charm in the composition of the monkish chroniclers. William of Malmsbury aimed at a more ambitious style, and attempted to adorn, as he admits himself, his English history with Roman art; this he does sometimes with tolerable elegance, but too often at the cost of necessary detail. Yet still we must place him at the head of the middle age historians, for he was diligent and critical, though perhaps not always impartial; and in matters connected with Romish doctrine, his testimony is not always to be relied upon without additional authority; his account of those who held opinions somewhat adverse to the orthodoxy of Rome is often equivocal; we may even suspect him of interpolating their writings, at least of Alfric, whose homilies had excited the fears of the Norman ecclesiastics. His works were compiled from many sources now unknown; and from the works of Bede, the Saxon chronicles, and Florilegus, he occasionally transcribes with little alteration. But is it not distressing to find that this talented author, so superior in other respects to the crude compilers of monkish history, cannot rise above the superstition of the age? Is it not deplorable that a mind so gifted could rely with fanatical zeal upon the verity of all those foul lies of Rome called "Holy" miracles; or that he could conceive how God would vouchsafe to make his saints ridiculous in the eyes of man, by such gross absurdities as tradition records, but which Rome deemed worthy of canonization; but it was then, as now, so difficult to conquer the prejudices of early teaching. With all our philosophy and our science, great men cannot do it now; even so in the days of old; they were brought up in the midst of superstition; sucked it as it were from their mother's breast, and fondly cradled in its belief; and as soon as the infant mind could think, parental piety dedicated it to God; not, however, as a light to shine before men, but as a candle under a bushel; for to serve God and to serve monachism were synonymous expressions in those days. The west of England was honored by many a monkish bibliophile in the middle ages. The annals of Gloucester abbey record the names of several. Prior Peter, who became abbot in the year 1104, is said to have enclosed the monastery with a stone wall, and greatly enriched it with many books "_copia librorum_."[323] A few years after (A. D. 1113), Godeman the Prior was made abbot, and the Saxon Chronicle records that during his time the tower was set on fire by lightning and the whole monastery was burnt; so that all the valuable things therein were destroyed except a "few books and three priest's mass-hackles."[324] Abbot Gamage gave many books to the library in the year 1306;[325] and Richard de Stowe, during the same century, gave the monks a small collection in nine or ten volumes; a list of them is preserved in an old manuscript.[326] But earlier than this in the eleventh century, a bishop of Exeter stands remarkable as an _amator librorum_. Leofric, the last bishop of Crediton, and "sometime lord chancellor of England,"[327] received permission from Edward the Confessor to translate the seat of his diocese to the city of Exeter in the year 1050. "He was brought up and studied in _Lotharingos_," says William of Malmsbury,[328] and he manifested his learning and fondness for study by collecting books. Of the nature of his collections we are enabled to judge by the volumes he gave to the church of Exeter. The glimpse thus obtained lead us to consider him a curious book-collector; and it is so interesting to look upon a catalogue of a bishop's private library in that early time, and to behold his tastes and his pursuits reflected and mirrored forth therein, that I am sure the reader will be gratified by its perusal.[329] After enumerating some broad lands and a glittering array of sumptuous ornaments, he is recorded to have given to the church "Two complete mass books; 1 Collectarium; 2 Books of Epistles (_Pistel Bec_[330]); 2 complete _Sang Bec_; 1 Book of _night sang_; 1 Book _unus liber_, a Breviary or Tropery; 2 Psalters; 3 Psalters according to the Roman copies; 2 Antiphoners; A precious book of blessings; 3 others; 1 Book of Christ _in English_; 2 Summer Reading bec; 1 Winter ditto; Rules and Canons; 1 Martyrology; 1 Canons in Latin; 1 Confessional _in English_; 1 Book of Homilies and Hymns for Winter and Summer; 1 Boethius on the Consolation of Philosophy, _in English_ (King Alfred's translation); 1 Great Book of Poetry in English; 1 Capitular; 1 Book of very ancient nocturnal _sangs_; 1 Pistel bec; 2 Ancient ræding bec; 1 for the use of the priest; also the following books in Latin, viz., 1 Pastoral of Gregory; 1 Dialogues of Gregory; 1 Book of the Four Prophets; 1 Boethius Consolation of Philosophy; 1 Book of the offices of Amalar; 1 Isagoge of Porphyry; 1 Passional; 1 book of Prosper; 1 book of Prudentius the Martyr; 1 Prudentius; 1 Prudentius (_de Mrib._); 1 other book; 1 Ezechael the Prophet; 1 Isaiah the Prophet; 1 Song of Songs; 1 Isidore Etymology; 1 Isidore on the New and Old Testament; 1 Lives of the Apostles; 1 Works of Bede; 1 Bede on the Apocalypse; 1 Bede's Exposition on the Seven Canonical Epistles; 1 book of Isidore on the Miracles of Christ; 1 book of Orosius; 1 book of Machabees; 1 book of Persius; 1 Sedulus; 1 Avator; 1 book of Statius with a gloss." Such were the books forming a part of the private library of a bishop of Exeter in the year of grace 1073. Few indeed when compared with the vast multitudes assembled and amassed together in the ages of printed literature. But these sixty or seventy volumes, collected in those times of dearth, and each produced by the tedious process of the pen, were of an excessive value, and mark their owner as distinctly an _amator librorum_, as the enormous piles heaped together in modern times would do a Magliabechi. Nor was Leofric an ordinary collector; he loved to preserve the idiomatic poetry of those old Saxon days; his ancient _sang bec_, or song books, would now be deemed a curious and precious relic of Saxon literature. One of these has fortunately escaped the ravages of time and the fate of war. "The great boc of English Poetry" is still preserved at Exeter--one of the finest relics of Anglo Saxon poetry extant. Mark too those early translations which we cannot but regard with infinite pleasure, and which satisfactorily prove that the Gospels and Church Service was at least partly read and sung in the Saxon church in the common language of the people; let the Roman Catholics say what they will.[331] But without saying much of his church books, we cannot but be pleased to find the Christian Boethius in his library with Bede, Gregory, Isidore, Prosper, Orosius, Prudentius, Sedulus, Persius and Statius; these are authors which retrieve the studies of Leofric from the charge of mere monastic lore. But good books about this time were beginning to be sought after with avidity. The Cluniac monks, who were introduced into England about the year 1077, more than one hundred and sixty years after their foundation, gave a powerful impetus to monastic learning; which received additional force by the enlightened efforts of the Cistercians, instituted in 1098, and spread into Britain about the year 1128. These two great branches of the Benedictine order, by their great love of learning, and by their zeal in collecting books, effected a great change in the monkish literature of England. "They were not only curious and attentive in forming numerous libraries, but with indefatigable assiduity transcribed the volumes of the ancients, _l'assiduité infatigable à transcrire les livres des anciens_, say the Benedictines of St. Maur,"[332] who perhaps however may be suspected of regarding their ancient brethren in rather too favorable a light. But certain it is, that the state of literature became much improved, and the many celebrated scholars who flourished in the twelfth century spread a taste for reading far and wide, and by their example caused the monks to look more eagerly after books. Peter of Blois, Archdeacon of London, is one of the most pleasing instances of this period, and his writings have even now a freshness and vivacity about them which surprise as they interest the reader. This illustrious student, and truly worthy man, was born at Blois in the early part of the twelfth century. His parents, who were wealthy and noble, were desirous of bestowing upon their son an education befitting their own rank; for this purpose he was sent to Paris to receive instruction in the general branches of scholastic knowledge. He paid particular attention to poetry, and studied rhetoric with still greater ardor.[333] But being designed for the bar, he left Paris for Bologna, there to study civil law; and succeeded in mastering all the dry technicalities of legal science. He then returned to Paris to study scholastic divinity,[334] in which he became eminently proficient, and was ever excessively fond. He remained at Paris studying deeply himself, and instructing others for many years. About the year 1167 he went with Stephen, Count de Perche, into Sicily, and was appointed tutor to the young King William II., made keeper of his private seal, and for two years conducted his education.[335] Soon after leaving Sicily, he was invited by Henry II. into England,[336] and made Archdeacon of Bath. It was during the time he held that office that he wrote most of these letters, from which we obtain a knowledge of the above facts, and which he collected together at the particular desire of King Henry; who ever regarded him with the utmost kindness, and bestowed upon him his lasting friendship. I know not a more interesting or a more historically valuable volume than these epistolary collections of Archdeacon Peter. They seem to bring those old times before us, to seat us by the fire-sides of our Norman forefathers, and in a pleasant, quiet manner enter into a gossip on the passing events of the day; and being written by a student and an _amator librorum_, they moreover unfold to us the state of learning among the ecclesiastics at least of the twelfth century; and if we were to take our worthy archdeacon as a specimen, they possessed a far better taste for these matters than we usually give them credit for. Peter of Blois was no ordinary man; a churchman, he was free from the prejudices of churchmen--a visitant of courts and the associate of royalty, he was yet free from the sycophancy of a courtier--and when he saw pride and ungodliness in the church, or in high places, he feared not to use his pen in stern reproof at these abominations. It is both curious and extraordinary, when we bear in mind the prejudices of the age, to find him writing to a bishop upon the looseness of his conduct, and reproving him for his inattention to the affairs of his diocese, and upbraiding another for displaying an unseemly fondness for hunting,[337] and other sports of the field; which he says is so disreputable to one of his holy calling, and quotes an instance of Pope Nicholas suspending and excluding from the church Bishop Lanfred for a similar offence; which he considers even more disgraceful in Walter, Lord Bishop of Winchester, to whom he is writing, on account of his advanced age; he being at that time eighty years old. We are constantly reminded in reading his letters that we have those of an indefatigable student before us; almost every page bears some allusion to his books or to his studies, and prove how well and deeply read he was in Latin literature; not merely the theological writings of the church, but the classics also. In one of his letters he speaks of his own studies, and tells us that when he learnt the art of versification and correct style, he did not spend his time on legends and fables, but took his models from Livy, Quintus Curtius, Trogus Pompeius, Josephus, Tacitus, Suetonius, and other classics; in the same letter he gives some directions to the Archdeacon of Nantes, who had undertaken the education of his nephews, as to the manner of their study. He had received from the archdeacon a flattering account of the progress made by one of them named William, to which he thus replies--"You speak," says he, "of William--his great penetration and ingenious disposition, who, without grammar or the authors of science, which are both so desirable, has mastered the subtilties of logic, so as to be esteemed a famous logician, as I learn by your letter. But this is not the foundation of a correct knowledge--these subtilties which you so highly extol, are manifoldly pernicious, as Seneca truly affirms,--_Odibilius nihil est subtilitate ubi est soloe subtilitas_. What indeed is the use of these things in which you say he spends his days--either at home, in the army, at the bar, in the cloister, in the church, in the court, or indeed in any position whatever, except, I suppose, the schools?" Seneca says, in writing to Lucalius, "_Quid est, inquit acutius arista et in quo est utiles!_"[338] In many letters we find him quoting the classics with the greatest ease, and the most appropriate application to his subject; in one he refers to Ovid, Persius, and Seneca,[339] and in others, when writing in a most interesting and amusing manner of poetic fame and literary study, he extracts from Terence, Ovid, Juvenal, Horace, Plato, Cicero, Valerius Maximus, Seneca, etc.[340] In another, besides a constant use of Scripture, which proves how deeply read too he was in Holy Writ, he quotes with amazing prodigality from Juvenal, Frontius, Vigetius, Dio, Virgil, Ovid, Justin, Horace, and Plutarch.[341] Indeed, Horace was a great favorite with the archdeacon, who often applied some of his finest sentences to illustrate his familiar chat and epistolary disquisitions.[342] It is worth noticing that in one he quotes the Roman history of Sallust, in six books, which is now lost, save a few fragments; the passage relates to Pompey the Great.[343] We can scarcely refrain from a smile at the eagerness of Archdeacon Peter in persuading his friends to relinquish the too enticing study of frivolous plays, which he says can be of no service to the interest of the soul;[344] and then, forgetting this admonition, sending for tragedies and comedies himself, that he might get them transcribed.[345] This puts one in mind of a certain modern divine, whose conduct not agreeing with his doctrine, told his hearers not to do as he did, but as he told them. It appears also equally ludicrous to find him upbraiding a monk, named Peter of Blois, for studying the pagan authors: "the foolish old fables of Hercules and Jove," their lies and philosophy;[346] when, as we have seen, he read them so ravenously, and so greatly borrowed from them himself. But then we must bear in mind that the archdeacon had also well stored his mind with Scripture, and certainly always deemed _that_ the first and most important of all his studies, which was perhaps not the case with the monk to whom he writes. In some of his letters we have pleasing pictures of the old times presented to us, and it is astonishing how homely and natural they read, after the elapse of 700 years. In more than one he launches out in strong invectives against the lawyers, who in all ages seems to have borne the indignation of mankind; Peter accuses them of selling their knowledge for hire, to the direct perversion of all justice; of favoring the rich and oppressing the poor.[347] He reproves Reginald, Archdeacon of Salisbury, for occupying his time with falconry, instead of attending to his clerical duties; and in another, a most interesting letter, he gives a description of King Henry II., whose character he extols in panegyric terms, and proves how much superior he was in learning to William II. of Sicily. He says that "Henry, as often as he could breathe from his care and solicitudes, he was occupied in secret reading; or at other times joined by a body of clergy, would try to solve some elaborate question _quæstiones laborat evolvere_."[348] Frequently we find him writing about books, begging transcripts, eagerly purchasing them; and in one of his letters to Alexander, Abbot of Jenniege, _Gemiticensem_, he writes, apologizing, and begging his forgiveness for not having fulfilled his promise in returning a book which he had borrowed from his library, and begs that his friend will yet allow him to retain it some days longer.[349] The last days of a scholar's life are not always remarkable, and we know nothing of those of Archdeacon Peter; for after the death of Henry II., his intellectual worth found no royal mind to appreciate it. The lion-hearted Richard thought more of the battle axe and crusading than the encouragement of literature or science; and Peter, like many other students, grown old in their studies, was left in his age to wander among his books, unmolested and uncared for. With the friendship of a few clerical associates, and the archdeaconry of London, which by the bye was totally unproductive,[350] he died, and for many ages was forgotten. But a student's worth can never perish; a time is certain to arrive when his erudition will receive its due reward of human praise. We now, after a slumber of many hundred years, begin to appreciate his value, and to entertain a hearty friendship and esteem for the venerable Archdeacon Peter. FOOTNOTES: [310] See Speed's Chron. p. 228. Samme's Antiq. p. 578. [311] Stowe's Annales, 4to. 1605, p. 97. See also Hearne's Hist. Glastonbury. [312] _Will. Malm. ap. Gale Script._ 311.--Coopertoria Librorum Evangelii. For many other instances of binding books in gold, and sometimes with costly gems, I refer the reader to _Du Cange_ verb-Capsæ, and to _Mr. Maitland's Dark Ages_. [313] Warton says, that this library was at the time the "_richest in England_." In this, however, he was mistaken. [314] John of Glast. p. 423. [315] John of Glastonbury Edt., Hearne, Oxon, 1726, p. 451. Steven's Additions to Dugdale, vol. i. p. 447. [316] Printed in _Tanner's Notitia Monastica_, 8vo. Edit. 1695, p. 75, and in _Hearne's History of Glastonbury_, p. 141; but both these works are scarce, and I have thought it worth reprinting; the reader will perceive that I have given some of the items in English--the original of course is in Latin. [317] John of Glas. p. 262. [318] Librario dedit. bibliam preciosam.--_John of Glast._ p. 262. [319] Among them was a "Dictionarum Latine et Saxonicum."--_Leland Collect._ iii. p. 153. [320] Leland, in his MSS. preserved in the Bodleian Library, calls Whiting "_Homo sane candidissimus et amicus meus singularis_," but he afterwards scored the line with his pen. See _Arch Bodl._ A. Dugdale Monast. vol. i. p. 6. [321] See Hume's Hist. Engl.; Moffat's Hist. of Malmsbury, p. 223, and Will. Malms. Novellæ Hist. lib. ii.; Sharpe's translation, p. 576. [322] William of Malmsbury, translated by the Rev. J. Sharpe, 4to. _Lond._ 1815, p. 107. [323] MS. _Cottonian Domit._ A. viii. fol. 128 b. [324] Saxon Chron. by Ingram, p. 343. [325] Dugdale's _Monastica_, vol. i. p. 534. Leland gives a list of the books he found there, but they only number about 20 volumes. See _Collect._ vol. iv. p. 159. [326] MS. Harleian, No. 627, fol. 8 a. "Liber Geneseos versificatus" probably Cædmon's Paraphrase was among them, and Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy. [327] Godwin Cat. of Bishops, p. 317. [328] Will. of Malms. de Gestis Pont. Savile Script. fol. 1601, p. 256, _apud Lotharingos altus et doctus_. [329] I use a transcript of the Exeter MS. collated by Sir F. Madden. _Additional MSS._ No. 9067. It is printed in Latin and Saxon from a old MS. In the Bodl. Auct. D. 2. 16. fol. 1 a; in Dugdale's Monasticon, vol. ii. p. 257, which varies a little from the Exeter transcript. [330] Bec is the plural of boc, a book. [331] See _Dr. Lingard's Hist. Anglo Sax. Church_, vol. i. p. 307, who cannot deny this entirely; see also _Lappenberg Hist. Eng._ vol. i. p. 202, who says that the mass was read partially in the Saxon tongue. _Hallam_ in his _Supplemental Notes_, p. 408, has a good note on the subject. [332] Hist. Litt. de la France, ix. p. 142. [333] Pet. Blesensis Opera, 4to. Mogunt. 1600. Ep. lxxxix. [334] Ep. xxvi. [335] Ep. lxvi. [336] Ep. cxxvii. [337] Ep. lvi. Yet we find that Charlemagne, in the year 795, granted the monks of the monastery of St. Bertin, in the time of Abbot Odlando, the privilege of hunting in his forests for the purpose of procuring leather to bind their books. "Odlando Abbate hujus loci abbas nonus, in omni bonitate suo prædecessori Hardrado coæqualis anno primo sui regiminis impetravit à rege Carolo privilegium venandi in silvis nostris et aliis ubicumque constitutis, ad volumina librorum tegænda, et manicas et zonas habendas. Salvis forestis regiis, quod sic incipit. Carolus Dei gratia Rex Francorum et Longobardorum ac patricius Romanorum, etc., data Septimo Kal. Aprilis, anno xxvi. regni nostri." Martene Thasaurus Nov. Anecdotorum iii. 498. _Warton_ mentions a similar instance of a grant to the monks of St. Sithin, _Dissert._ ii. _prefixed to Hist. of Eng. Poetry_, but he quotes it with some sad misrepresentations, and refers to _Mabillon De re Diplomatica_, 611. Mr. Maitland, in his _Dark Ages_, has shown the absurdity of Warton's inferences from the fact, and proved that it was to the servants, or _eorum homines_, that Charlemagne granted this uncanonical privilege, p. 216. But I find no such restriction in the case I have quoted above. Probably, however, it was thought needless to express what might be inferred, or to caution against a practice so uncongenial with the christian duties of a monk. [338] Ep. ci. p. 184. He afterwards quotes Livy, Tacitus, and many others. [339] Ep. xiv. He was fond of Quintus Curtius, and often read his history with much pleasure. Ep. ci. p. 184. [340] Ep. lxxvii. p. 81. [341] Ep. xciv. [342] Ep. xcii. and also lxxii. which is redundant with quotations from the poets. [343] Ep. xciv. p. 170. [344] Ep. lvii. [345] Ep. xii. [346] Ep. lxxvi. p. 132. [347] Ep. cxl. p. 253. [348] Ep. lxvi. p. 115. [349] Ep. xxxvii. p. 68. [350] Ep. cli. CHAPTER X. _Winchester famous for its Scribes.--Ethelwold and Godemann.--Anecdotes.--Library of the Monastery of Reading.--The Bible.--Library of Depying Priory.--Effects of Gospel Reading.--Catalogue of Ramsey Library.--Hebrew MSS.--Fine Classics, etc.--St. Edmund's Bury.--Church of Ely.--Canute, etc._ In the olden time the monks of Winchester[351] were renowned for their calligraphic and pictorial art. The choice book collectors of the day sought anxiously for volumes produced by these ingenious scribes, and paid extravagant prices for them. A superb specimen of their skill was executed for Bishop Ethelwold; that enlightened and benevolent prelate was a great patron of art and literature, and himself a grammaticus and poet of no mean pretensions. He did more than any other of his time to restore the architectural beauties which were damaged or destroyed by the fire and sword of the Danish invaders. His love of these undertakings, his industry in carrying them out, and the great talent he displayed in their restoration, is truly wonderful to observe. He is called by Wolstan, his biographer, "a great builder of churches, and divers other works."[352] He was fond of learning, and very liberal in diffusing the knowledge which he acquired; and used to instruct the young by reading to them the Latin authors, translated into the Saxon tongue. "He wrote a Saxion version of the Rule of Saint Benedict, which was so much admired, and so pleased King Edgar, that he granted to him the manor of Sudborn,[353] as a token of his approbation." Among a number of donations which he bequeathed to this monastery, twenty volumes are enumerated, embracing some writings of Bede and Isidore.[354] As a proof of his bibliomanical propensities, I refer the reader to the celebrated Benedictional of the Duke of Devonshire; that rich gem, with its resplendent illuminations, place it beyond the shadow of a doubt, and prove Ethelwold to have been an _amator librorum_ of consummate taste. This fine specimen of Saxon ingenuity is the production of a cloistered monk of Winchester, named Godemann, who transcribed it at the bishop's special desire, as we learn, from the following lines:-- "_Presentem Biblum iusset prescribere Presul. Wintoniæ Dus que fecerat esse Patronum Magnus Æthelwoldus._"[355] Godemann, the scribe, entreats the prayers of his readers, and wishes "all who gaze on this book to ever pray that after the end of the flesh I may inherit health in heaven: this is the fervent prayer of the scribe, the humble Godemann." This talented illuminator was chaplain to Ethelwold, and afterwards abbot of Thorney.[356] The choice Benedictional in the public library of Rouen is also ascribed to his elegant pen, and adds additional lustre of his artistic fame.[357] Most readers have heard of Walter, (who was prior of St. Swithin in 1174,) giving twelve measures of barley and a pall, on which was embroidered in silver the history of St. Berinus converting a Saxon king, for a fine copy of Bede's Homilies and St. Austin's Psalter;[358] and of Henry, a monk of the Benedictine Abbey of Hyde, near there, who transcribed, in the year 1178, Terence, Boethius, Seutonius and Claudian; and richly illuminated and bound them, which he exchanged with a neighboring bibliophile for a life of St. Christopher, St. Gregory's Pastoral Care, and four Missals.[359] Nicholas, Bishop of Winchester, left one hundred marks and a Bible, with a fine gloss, in two large volumes, to the convent of St. Swithin. John de Pontissara, who succeeded that bishop in the year 1282, borrowed this valuable manuscript to benefit and improve his biblical knowledge by a perusal of its numerous notes. So great was their regard for this precious gift, that the monks demanded a bond for its return; a circumstance which has caused some doubt as to the plenitude of the Holy Scriptures in the English Church during that period; at least among those who have only casually glanced at the subject. I may as well notice that the ancient Psalter in the Cottonian Library[360] was written about the year 1035, by the "most humble brother and monk Ælsinus," of Hyde Abbey. The table prefixed to the volume records the deaths of other eminent scribes and illuminators, whose names are mingled with the great men of the day;[361] showing how esteemed they were, and how honorable was their avocation. Thus under the 15th of May we find "_Obitus Ætherici mº picto_;" and again, under the 5th of July, "_Obit Wulfrici mº pictoris_." Many were the choice transcripts made and adorned by the Winchester monks. The monastery of Reading, in Berkshire, possessed during the reign of Henry the Third a choice library of a hundred and fifty volumes. It is printed in the Supplement to the History of Reading, from the original prefixed to the Woollascot manuscripts. But it is copied very inaccurately, and with many grievous omissions; nevertheless it will suffice to enable us to gain a knowledge of the class of books most admired by the monks of Reading; and the Christian reader will be glad to learn that the catalogue opens, as usual, with the Holy Scriptures. Indeed no less than four fine large and complete copies of the Bible are enumerated. The first in two volumes; the second in three volumes; the third in two, and the fourth in the same number which was transcribed by the _Cantor_, and kept in the cloisters for the use of the monks. But in addition to these, which are in themselves quite sufficient to exculpate the monks from any charge of negligence of Bible reading, we find a long list of separate portions of the Old and New Testament; besides many of the most important works of the Fathers, and productions of mediæval learning, as the following names will testify:-- Ambrose. Augustine. Basil. Bede. Cassidorus. Eusebius. Gregory. Hilarius. Jerome. Josephus. Lombard. Macrobius. Origen. Plato. Prosper. Rabanus Maurus. They possessed also the works of Geoffry of Monmouth; the _Vita Karoli et Alexandri et gesta Normannorum_; a "Ystoria Rading," and many others equally interesting; and among the books given by Radbert of Witchir, we find a Juvenal, the Bucolics and Georgics of Virgil, and the "Ode et Poetria et Sermone et Epistole Oratii." But certainly the most striking characteristic is the fine biblical collection contained in their library, which is well worthy our attention, if not our admiration: not but that we find them in other libraries much less extensive. In those monasteries whose poverty would not allow the purchase of books in any quantity, and whose libraries could boast but of some twenty or thirty volumes, it is scarcely to be expected that they should be found rich in profane literature; but it is deeply gratifying to find, as we generally do, the Bible first on their little list; conveying a proof by this prominence, in a quiet but expressive way, how highly they esteemed that holy volume, and how essential they deemed its possession. Would that they had profited more by its holy precepts! We find an instance of this, and a proof of their fondness for the Bible, in the catalogue of the books in Depying Priory,[362] in Lincolnshire; which, containing a collection of twenty-three volumes, enumerates a copy of the Bible first on the humble list. The catalogue is as follows:-- These are the books in the library of the monks of Depying.[363] The Bible. The first part of the Morals of Pope St. Gregory. The second part of the Morals by the same. Book of Divine Offices. Gesta Britonorum. Tracts of Robert, Bishop of Lincoln, on Confession, with other compilations. Martyrologium, with the Rules of St. Benedict; Passion of St. James, with other books. Constitutions of Pope Benedict. History of the Island of Ely. Hugucio de dono fratris Johannis Tiryngham. Homilies of the blessed Gregory. Constitutions of Pope Clement XII. Book of the Virtues and Vices. Majester Historiarum. Sacramentary given by Master John Swarby, Rector of the Church of St. Guthlac. One great Portoforium for the use of the Brothers. Two ditto. Two Psalters for the use of the Brothers. Three Missals for the use of the Brothers. There is not much in this scanty collection, the loss of which we need lament; nor does it inspire us with a very high notion of the learning of the monks of Depying Priory. Yet how cheering it is to find that the Bible was studied in this little cell; and I trust the monk often drew from it many words of comfort and consolation. Where is the reader who will not regard these instances of Bible reading with pleasure? Where is the Christian who will not rejoice that the Gospel of Christ was read and loved in the turbulent days of the Norman monarchs? Where is the philosopher who will affirm that we owe nothing to this silent but effectual and fervent study? Where is he who will maintain that the influence of the blessed and abundant charity--the cheering promises, and the sweet admonitions of love and mercy with which the Gospels overflow--aided nothing in the progress of civilization? Where is the Bible student who will believe that all this reading of the Scriptures was unprofitable because, forsooth, a monk preached and taught it to the multitude? Let the historian open his volumes with a new interest, and ponder over their pages with a fresh spirit of inquiry; let him read of days of darkness and barbarity; and as he peruses on, trace the origin of the light whose brightness drove the darkness and barbarity away. How much will he trace to the Bible's influence; how often will he be compelled to enter a convent wall to find in the gospel student the one who shone as a redeeming light in those old days of iniquity and sin; and will he deny to the Christian priest his gratitude and love, because he wore the cowl and mantle of a monk, or because he loved to read of saints whose lives were mingled with lying legends, or because he chose a life which to us looks dreary, cold, and heartless. Will he deny him a grateful recollection when he reads of how much good he was permitted to achieve in the Church of Christ; of how many a doubting heart he reassured; of how many a soul he fired with a true spark of Christian love; when he reads of how the monk preached the faith of Christ, and how often he led some wandering pilgrim into the path of vital truth by the sweet words of the dear religion which he taught; when he reads that the hearts of many a Norman chief was softened by the sweetness of the gospel's voice, and his evil passions were lulled by the hymn of praise which the monk devoutly sang to his Master in heaven above. But speaking of the existence of the Bible among the monks puts me in mind of the Abbey of Ramsey and its fine old library of books, which was particularly rich in biblical treasures. Even superior to Reading, as regards its biblical collection, was the library of Ramsey. A portion of an old catalogue of the library of this monastery has been preserved, apparently transcribed about the beginning of the fourteenth century, during the warlike reign of Richard the Second. It is one of the richest and most interesting relics of its kind extant, at least of those to be found in our own public libraries; and a perusal of it will not fail to leave an impression on the mind that the monks were far wealthier in their literary stores than we previously imagined. Originally on two or three skins, it is now torn into five separate pieces,[364] and in other respects much dilapidated. The writing also in some parts is nearly obliterated, so as to render the document scarcely readable. It is much to be regretted that this interesting catalogue is but a portion of the original; in its complete form it would probably have described twice as many volumes; but a fragment as it is, it nevertheless contains the titles of more than _eleven hundred books_, with the names of many of their donors attached. A creditable and right worthy testimonial this, of the learning and love of books prevalent among the monks of Ramsey Monastery. More than seven hundred of this goodly number were of a miscellaneous nature, and the rest were principally books used in the performance of divine service. Among these there were no less than seventy Breviaries; thirty-two Grails; twenty-nine Processionals; and one hundred Psalters! The reader will regard most of these as superstitious and useless; nor should I remark upon them did they not show that books were not so scarce in those times as we suppose; as this prodigality satisfactorily proves, and moreover testifies to the unceasing industry of the monkish scribes. We who are used to the speed of the printing press and its fertile abundance can form an opinion of the labor necessary to transcribe this formidable array of papistical literature. Four hundred volumes transcribed with the plodding pen! each word collated and each page diligently revised, lest a blunder or a misspelt syllable should blemish those books so deeply venerated. What long years of dry tedious labor and monotonous industry was here! But the other portion of the catalogue fully compensates for this vast proportion of ecclesiastical volumes. Besides several _Biblia optima in duobus voluminibus_, or complete copies of the Bible, many separate books of the inspired writers are noted down; indeed the catalogue lays before us a superb array of fine biblical treasures, rendered doubly valuable by copious and useful glossaries; and embracing many a rare Hebrew MS. Bible, _bibliotheca hebraice_, and precious commentary. I count no less than twenty volumes in this ancient language. But we often find Hebrew manuscripts in the monastic catalogues after the eleventh century. The Jews, who came over in great numbers about that time, were possessed of many valuable books, and spread a knowledge of their language and literature among the students of the monasteries. And when the cruel persecution commenced against them in the thirteenth century, they disposed of their books, which were generally bought up by the monks, who were ever hungry after such acquisitions. Gregory, prior of Ramsey, collected a great quantity of Hebrew MSS. in this way, and highly esteemed the language, in which he became deeply learned. At his death, in the year 1250, he left them to the library of his monastery.[365] Nor was my lord prior a solitary instance; many others of the same abbey, inspired by his example and aided by his books, studied the Hebrew with equal success. Brother Dodford, the Armarian, and Holbeach, a monk, displayed their erudition in writing a Hebrew lexicon.[366] The library of Ramsey was also remarkably rich in patristic lore. They gloried in the possession of the works of Ambrose, Augustine, Anselm, Basil, Boniface, Bernard, Gregory, and many others equally voluminous. But it was not exclusively to the study of such matters that these monks applied their minds, they possessed a taste for other branches of literature besides. They read histories of the church, histories of England, of Normandy, of the Jews; and histories of scholastic philosophy, and many old chronicles which reposed on their shelves. In science they appear to have been equally studious, for the catalogue enumerates works on medicine, natural history, philosophy, mathematics, logic, dialects, arithmetic and music! Who will say after this that the monks were ignorant of the sciences and careless of the arts? The classical student has perhaps ere this condemned them for their want of taste, and felt indignant at the absence of those authors of antiquity whose names and works he venerates. But the monks, far from neglecting those precious volumes, were ever careful of their preservation; they loved Virgil, Horace, and even Ovid, "heathen dogs" as they were, and enjoyed a keen relish for their beauties. I find in this catalogue the following choice names of antiquity occur repeatedly:-- Aristotle. Arian. Boethius. Claudius. Dionysius. Donatus. Horace. Josephus. Justin. Lucan. Martial. Macrobius. Orosius. Ovid. Plato. Priscian. Prudentius. Seneca. Sallust. Solinus. Terence. Virgil. Here were rich mines of ancient eloquence, and fragrant flowers of poesy to enliven and perfume the dull cloister studies of the monks. It is not every library or reading society even of our own time that possess so many gems of old. But other treasures might yet be named which still further testify to the varied tastes and literary pursuits of these monastic bibliophiles; but I shall content myself with naming Peter of Blois, the Sentences of Peter Lombard, of which they had several copies, some enriched with choice commentaries and notes, the works of Thomas Aquinas and others of his class, a "Liber Ricardi," Dictionaries, Grammars, and the writings of "Majestri Robi Grostete," the celebrated Bishop of Lincoln, renowned as a great _amator librorum_ and collector of Grecian literature. I might easily swell this notice out to a considerable extent by enumerating many other book treasures in this curious collection: but enough has been said to enable the reader to judge of the sort of literature the monks of Ramsey collected and the books they read; and if he should feel inclined to pursue the inquiry further, I must refer him to the original manuscript, promising him much gratification for his trouble.[367] It only remains for me to say that the Vandalism of the Reformation swept all traces of this fine library away, save the broken, tattered catalogue we have just examined. But this is more than has been spared from some. The abbey of St. Edmunds Bury[368] at one time must have enjoyed a copious library, but we have no catalogue that I am aware of to tell of its nature, not even a passing notice of its well-stored shelves, except a few lines in which Leland mentions some of the old manuscripts he found therein.[369] But a catalogue of their library in the flourishing days of their monastery would have disclosed, I imagine, many curious works, and probably some singular writings on the "_crafft off medycyne_," which Abbot Baldwin, "_phesean_" to Edward the Confessor,[370] had given the monks, and of whom Lydgate thus speaks-- "Baldewynus, a monk off Seynt Denys, Gretly expert in crafft of medycyne; Full provydent off counsayl and right wys, Sad off his port, functuons off doctryne; After by grace and influence devyne, Choose off Bury Abbot, as I reede The thyrdde in order that did ther succeade."[371] We may equally deplore the loss of the catalogue of the monastery of Ely, which, during the middle ages, we have every reason to suppose possessed a library of much value and extent. This old monastery can trace its foundation back to a remote period, and claim as its foundress, Etheldredæ,[372] the daughter of Anna, King of the East Angles, she was the wife of King Ecgfrid,[373] with whom she lived for twelve long years, though during that time she preserved the glory of perfect virginity, much to the annoyance of her royal spouse, who offered money and lands to induce that illustrious virgin to waver in her resolution, but without success. Her inflexible determination at length induced her husband to grant her oft-repeated prayer; and in the year 673 she retired into the seclusion of monastic life,[374] and building the monastery of Ely, devoted her days to the praise and glory of her heavenly King. Her pure and pious life caused others speedily to follow her example, and she soon became the virgin-mother of a numerous progeny dedicated to God. A series of astounding miracles attended her monastic life; and sixteen years after her death, when her sister, the succeeding abbess, opened her wooden coffin to transfer her body to a more costly one of marble, that "holy virgin and spouse of Christ" was found entirely free from corruption or decay.[375] A nunnery, glorying in so pure a foundress, grew and flourished, and for "two hundred years existed in the full observance of monastic discipline;" but on the coming of the Danes in the year 870, those sad destroyers of religious establishments laid it in a heap of ruins, in which desolate condition it remained till it attracted the attention of the celebrated Ethelwold, who under the patronage of King Edgar restored it; and endowing it with considerable privileges appointed Brithnoth, Prior of Winchester, its first abbot.[376] Many years after, when Leoffin was abbot there, and Canute was king, that monarch honored the monastery of Ely with his presence on several occasions. Monkish traditions say, that on one of these visits as the king approached, he heard the pious inmates of the monastery chanting their hymn of praise; and so melodious were the voices of the devotees, that his royal heart was touched, and he poured forth his feelings in a Saxon ballad, commencing thus: "Merry sang the monks of Ely, When Canute the king was sailing by; Row ye knights near the land, And let us hear these monks song."[377] It reads smoother in Strutt's version; he renders it "Cheerful sang the monk of Ely, When Canute the king was passing by; Row to the shore knights, said the king, And let us hear these churchmen sing."[378] In addition to the title of a poet, Canute has also received the appellation of a bibliomaniac. Dibdin, in his bibliomania, mentions in a cursory manner a few monkish book collectors, and introduces Canute among them.[379] The illuminated manuscript of the four Gospels in the Danish tongue, now in the British Museum, he writes, "and once that monarch's own book leaves not the shadow of a doubt of his bibliomanical character!" I cannot however allow him that title upon such equivocal grounds; for upon examination, the MS. turns out to be in the Theotisc dialect, possessing no illuminations of its own, and never perhaps once in the hands of the royal poet.[380] From the account books of Ely church we may infer that the monks there enjoyed a tolerable library; for we find frequent entries of money having been expended for books and materials connected with the library; thus in the year 1300 we find that they bought at one time five dozen parchment, four pounds of ink, eight calf and four sheep-skins for binding books; and afterwards there is another entry of five dozen vellum and six pair of book clasps, a book of decretals for the library, 3s., a Speculum Gregor, 2s., and "_Pro tabula Paschalis fac denova et illuminand_," 4s.[381] They frequently perhaps sent one of the monks to distants parts to purchase or borrow books for their library; a curious instance of this occurs under the year 1329, when they paid "the precentor for going to Balsham to enquire for books, 6s. 7d." The bookbinder two weeks' wages, 4s.; twelve iron chains to fasten books, 4s.; five dozen vellum, 25s. 8d. In the year 1396, they paid their librarian 53s. 4d., and a tunic for his services during one year.[382] Nigel, Bishop of Ely, by endowing the Scriptorium, enabled the monks to produce some excellent transcripts; they added several books of Cassiodorus, Bede, Aldelem, Radbert, Andres, etc., to the library;[383] and they possessed at one time no less than thirteen fine copies of the Gospels, which were beautifully bound in gold and silver.[384] FOOTNOTES: [351] Those learned in such matters refer the foundation of Winchester cathedral and monastery to a remote period. An old writer says that it was "built by King Lucius, who, abolishing Paganisme, embraced Christ the first yere of his reigne, being the yeere of our Lord 180."--_Godwin's Cat._ p. 157. See also _Usher de Primordiis_. fo. 126. [352] "Ecclesiarum ac diversorum operum magnus ædificator, et dum esset abbas et dum esset episcopus."--_Wolstan. Vita Æthelw. ap. Mabillon Actæ S. S. Benedict, Sæc._ v. p. 614. [353] Dugdale's Monasticon, vol. i. p. 614. [354] MS. belonging to the Society of Antiquaries, No. 60, fo. 34. See Dugdale Monast. vol. i. p. 382. He gave to the monks of Abingdon a copy of the Gospels cased in silver, ornamented with gold and precious stones. [355] _Archæologia_, vol. xxiv. p. 22; and _Dibdin's_ delightful "_Decameron_," vol. i. p. lix. [356] Wuls. Act. S. S. Benedict. p. 616. [357] Archæolog. vol. xxiv. [358] Regist. Priorat. S. Swithin Winton.--_Warton_ II, _Dissert._ [359] _Ibid._ [360] _Marked Titus_, D. 27. [361] It is called "_Calendarium, in quo notantur dies obitus plurimorum monachorum, abbatum, etc.; temp. regum Anglo-Saxonum_." [362] It was a little cell dependant on the Abbey of Thorney. [363] MS. _Harleian_, No. 3658, fo. 74, b. It will be found printed in _Dugdale's Monasticon_, vol. iv. p. 167. The catalogue was evidently written about the year 1350. [364] Cottonian Charta, 11-16. I am sorry to observe so little attention paid to this curious fragment, which, insignificant as it may appear to some, is nevertheless quite a curiosity of literature in its way. Its tattered condition calls for the care of Sir Frederick Madden. [365] Leland Script. Brit. p. 321, and MSS. Bibl. Lambeth, Wharton, L. p. 661. Libris Prioris Gregorii de Ramsey, _Prima pars Bibliothecæ Hebraice_, etc. Warton Dissert ii. Eng. Poetry. [366] Bale, iv. 41, et ix. 9. Leland. Scrip. Brit. p. 452. [367] Ailward, Bishop of London, gave many books to the library of Ramsey monastery, _Hoveden Scrip. post. Bedam._ 1596, fol. 252. Dugdale's Monasticon, vol. ii. [368] In the year 1327, the inhabitants of Bury besieged the abbey, wounded the monks, and "bare out of the abbey all the gold, silver ornaments, _bookes, charters, and other writings_." Stowe Annals, p. 353. [369] He particularly notices a Sallust, a very ancient copy, _vetustis simus_. [370] And also to Lanfranc, he was elected in the year 1065. [371] Harleian MS. No. 2278. [372] Or Atheldryth. [373] The youngest son of Osway, King of Northumbria; he succeeded to the throne on the death of his father in the year 670. [374] She seems to have been principally encouraged in this fanatical determination by Wilfrid; probably this was one of the causes of Ecgfrid's displeasure towards him. So highly was the purity of the body regarded in the early Saxon church, that Aldhelm wrote a piece in its praise, in imitation of the style of Sedulius, but in most extravagant terms. Bede wrote a poem, solely to commemorate the chastety of Etheldreda. "Let Maro wars in loftier numbers sing I sound the praises of our heavenly King; Chaste is my verse, nor Helen's rape I write, Light tales like these, but prove the mind as light." _Bede's Eccl. Hist. by Giles_, b. iv. c. xx. [375] Bede's Eccl. Hist. b. iv. c. xx. [376] Saxon Chronicle translated by Ingram, p. 118. Dugdale's Monasticon, vol. i. p. 458. [377] Sharon Turner's Hist. of the Anglo-Saxons, vol. ii. p. 288. [378] Strutt's Saxon Antiquities, vol. i. p. 83. [379] _Dibdin's Bibliomania_, p. 228. [380] Dibdin alludes to the "Harmony of the Four Gospels," preserved among the Cotton MSS. _Caligula_, A. vii. and described as "_Harmonia Evangeliorum, lingua Francica capitulis, 71, Liber quondam (dicit Jamesius) Canuti regis_." See also Hicke's Gram. Franco-Theotisca, p. 6. But there is no ground for the supposition that it belonged to Canute; and the several fine historical illuminations bound up with it are evidently of a much later age. [381] An entry occurs of 6s. 8d. for writing two processionals. [382] Stevenson's Suppl. to Bentham's church of Ely, p. 52. "It is worth notice," says Stevenson, "that in the course of a few years, about the middle of the 14th century, the precentor purchased upwards of seventy dozen parchment and thirty dozen vellum." [383] Spelman Antiquarii Collectanea, vol. iii. p. 273. Nigel, who was made bishop in 1133, was plundered by some of King Stephen's soldiers, and robbed of his own copy of the Gospels which he had adorned with many sacred relics; see _Anglia Sacra_, i. p. 622. [384] _Warton's Anglia Sacra_, it is related that William Longchamp, bishop in 1199, sold them to raise money towards the redemption of King Richard, _pro Regis Ricardi redemptione_, tom. i. 633. Dugd. Monast. i. p. 463. CHAPTER XI. _St. Alban's.--Willigod.--Bones of St. Alban.--Eadmer.--Norman Conquest.--Paul and the Scriptorium.--Geoffry de Gorham.--Brekspere the "Poor Clerk".--Abbot Simon and his "multis voluminibus".--Raymond the Prior.--Wentmore.--Whethamstede.--Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester.--Lydgate.--Guy, Earl of Warwick._ The efficacy of "Good Works" was a principle ever inculcated by the monks of old. It is sad to reflect, that vile deeds and black intentions were too readily forgiven and absolved by the Church on the performance of some _good deed_; or that the monks should dare to shelter or to gloss over those sins which their priestly duty bound them to condemn, because forsooth some wealthy baron could spare a portion of his broad lands or coffered gold to extenuate them. But this forms one of the dark stains of the monastic system; and the monks, I am sorry to say, were more readily inclined to overlook the blemish, because it proved so profitable to their order. And thus it was, that the proud and noble monastery of St. Alban's was endowed by a murderer's hand, and built to allay the fierce tortures of an assassin's conscience. Ethelbert, king of the East Angles, fell by the regal hand of Offa, king of Mercia; and from the era of that black and guilty deed many a fine monastery dates its origin and owes its birth. St. Alban's was founded, as its name implies, in honor of the English protomartyr, whose bones were said to have been discovered on that interesting site, and afterwards preserved with veneration in the abbey. In the ancient times, the building appears to have covered a considerable space, and to have been of great magnitude and power; for ruins of its former structure mark how far and wide the foundation spreads. "The glorious king Offa," as the monks in their adulation style him, richly endowed the monastery on its completion, as we learn from the old chronicles of the abbey; and a succession of potent sovereigns are emblazoned on the glittering parchment, whose liberalty augmented or confirmed these privileges.[385] Willigod, the first abbot, greatly enriched the monastery, and bestowed especial care upon the relics of St. Alban. It is curious to mark how many perils those shrivelled bones escaped, and with what anxious care the monks preserved them. In the year 930, during the time of Abbot Eadfrid, the Danes attacked the abbey, and after many destroying acts broke open the repository, and carried away some of the bones of St. Alban into their own country.[386] The monks took greater care than ever of the remaining relics; and their anxiety for their safety, and the veneration with which they regarded them, is curiously illustrated by an anecdote of Abbot Leofric, elected in the year 1006. His abbacy was, therefore, held in troubled times; and in the midst of fresh invasions and Danish cruelties. Fearing lest they should a second time reach the abbey, he determined to protect by stratagem what he could not effect by force. After hiding the genuine bones of St. Alban in a place quite secure from discovery, he sent an open message to the Abbot of Ely, entreating permission to deposit the holy relics in his keeping; and offering, as a plausible reason, that the monastery of Ely, being surrounded by marshy and impenetrable bogs, was secure from the approaches of the barbarians. He accompanied this message with some false relics--the remains of an old monk belonging to the abbey enclosed in a coffin--and sent with them a worn antiquated looking mantle, pretending that it formerly belonged to Amphibalus, the master of St. Alban.[387] The monks of Ely joyfully received these precious bones, and displayed perhaps too much eagerness in doing so. Certain it is, that when the danger was past and the quietude of the country was restored, Leofric, on applying for the restitution of these "holy relics," found some difficulty in obtaining them; for the Abbot of Ely attempted by equivocation and duplicity to retain them. After several ineffectual applications, Leofric was compelled, for the honor of his monastery, to declare the "pious fraud" he had practised; which he proved by the testimony of several monks of his fraternity, who were witnesses of the transaction. It is said, that Edward the Confessor was highly incensed at the conduct of the Abbot of Ely. I have stated elsewhere, that the learned and pious Ælfric gave the monastery many choice volumes. His successor, Ealdred, abbot, about the year 955, was quite an antiquary in his way; and no spot in England afforded so many opportunities to gratify his taste as the site of the ancient city of Verulam. He commenced an extensive search among the ruins, and rescued from the earth a vast quantity of interesting and valuable remains. He stowed all the stone-work and other materials which were serviceable in building away, intending to erect a new edifice for the monks: but death prevented the consummation of these designs. Eadmer, his successor, a man of great piety and learning, followed up the pursuit, and made some important accessions to these stores. He found also a great number of gold and silver ornaments, specimens of ancient art, some of them of a most costly nature, but being idols or figures connected with heathen mythology, he cared not to preserve them. Matthew Paris is prolix in his account of the operations and discoveries of this abbot; and one portion of it is so interesting, and seems so connected with our subject, that I cannot refrain from giving it to the reader. "The abbot," he writes, "whilst digging out the walls and searching for the ruins which were buried in the earth in the midst of the ancient city, discovered many vestiges of the foundation of a great palace. In a recess in one of the walls he found the remains of a library, consisting of a number of books and rolls; and among them a volume in an unknown tongue, and which, although very ancient, had especially escaped destruction. This nobody in the monastery could read, nor could they at that time find any one who understood the writing or the idiom; it was exceedingly ancient, and the letters evidently were most beautifully formed; the inscriptions or titles were written in gold, and encircled with ornaments; bound in oak with silken bands, which still retained their strength and beauty; so perfectly was the volume preserved. But they could not conceive what the book was about; at last, after much search and diligent inquiry, they found a very feeble and aged priest, named Unwon, who was very learned in writings _literis bene eruditum_, and imbued with the knowledge of divers languages. He knew directly what the volume was about, and clearly and fluently read the contents; he also explained the other _Codices_ found in the same library _in eodem Almariolo_ of the palace with the greatest ease, and showed them to be written in the characters formerly in use among the inhabitants of Verulam, and in the language of the ancient Britons. Some, however, were in Latin; but the book before-mentioned was found to be the history of Saint Alban, the English proto-martyr, according to that mentioned by Bede, as having been daily used in the church. Among the other books were discovered many contrivances for the invocation and idolatrous rites of the people of Verulam, in which it was evident that Phoebus the god Sol was especially invoked and worshipped; and after him Mercury, called in English Woden, who was the god of the merchants. The books which contained these diabolical inventions they cast away and burnt; but that precious treasure, the history of Saint Alban, they preserved, and the priest before-mentioned was appointed to translate the ancient English or British into the vulgar tongue.[388] By the prudence of the Abbot Eadmer, the brothers of the convent made a faithful copy, and diligently explained it in their public teaching; they also translated it into Latin, in which it is now known and read; the historian adds that the ancient and original copy, which was so curiously written, instantaneously crumbled into dust and was destroyed for ever."[389] Although the attention of the Saxon abbots was especially directed to literary matters, and to the affairs connected with the making of books, we find no definite mention of a Scriptorium, or of manuscripts having been transcribed as a regular and systematic duty, till after the Norman conquest. That event happened during the abbacy of Frederic, and was one which greatly influenced the learning of the monks. Indeed, I regard the Norman conquest as a most propitious event for English literature, and one which wrought a vast change in the aspect of monastic learning; the student of those times cannot fail to perceive the revolution which then took place in the cloisters; visibly accomplished by the installation of Norman bishops and the importation of Norman monks, who in the well regulated monasteries of France and Normandy had been initiated into a more general course of study, and brought up in a better system of mental training than was known here at that time. But poor Frederic, a conscientious and worthy monk, suffered severely by that event, and was ultimately obliged to seek refuge in the monastery of Ely to evade the displeasure of the new sovereign; but his earthly course was well nigh run, for three days after, death released him from his worldly troubles, and deprived the conqueror of a victim. Paul, the first of the Norman abbots, was appointed by the king in the year 1077. He was zealous and industrious in the interest of the abbey, and obtained the restitution of many lands and possessions of which it had been deprived; he rebuilt the old and almost ruined church, and employed for that purpose many of the materials which his predecessors had collected from the ruins of Verulam; and even now, I believe, some remnants of these Roman tiles, etc., may be discerned. He moreover obtained many important grants and valuable donations; among others a layman named Robert, one of the Norman leaders, gave him two parts of the tythes of his domain at Hatfield, which he had received from the king at the distribution. "This he assigned," says Matthew Paris, "to the disposal of Abbot Paul, who was a lover of the Scriptures, for the transcription of the necessary volumes for the monastery. He himself indeed was a learned soldier, and a diligent hearer and lover of Scripture; to this he also added the tythes of Redburn, appointing certain provisions to be given to the scribes; this he did out of "charity to the brothers that they may not thereby suffer, and that no impediment might be offered to the writers." The abbot thereupon sought and obtained from afar many renowned scribes, to write the necessary books for the monastery. And in return for these abundant favors, he presented, as a suitable gift to the warlike Robert, for the chapel in his palace at Hatfield, two pair of vestments, a silver cup, a missal, and the other needful books (_missale cum aliis libris necessariis_). Having thus presented to him the first volumes produced by his liberality, he proceeded to construct a scriptorium, which was set apart (_præelectos_) for the transcription of books; Lanfranc supplied the copies. They thus procured for the monastery twenty-eight notable volumes (_volumina notabilia_), also eight psalters, a book of collects, a book of epistles, a volume containing the gospels for the year, two copies of the gospels complete, bound in gold and silver, and ornamented with gems; besides ordinals, constitutions, missals, troapries, collects, and other books for the use of the library."[390] Thus blessed, we find the monks of St. Albans for ages after constantly acquiring fresh treasures, and multiplying their book stores by fruitful transcripts. There is scarce an abbot, whose portrait garnishes the fair manuscript before me, that is not represented with some goodly tomes spread around him, or who is not mentioned as a choice "_amator librorum_," in these monkish pages. It is a singular circumstance, when we consider how bookless those ages are supposed to have been, that the illuminated portraits of the monks are most frequently depicted with some ponderous volume before them, as if the idea of a monk and the study of a book were quite inseparable. During my search among the old manuscripts quoted in this work, this fact has been so repeatedly forced upon my attention that I am tempted to regard it as an important hint, and one which speaks favorably for the love of books and learning among the cowled devotees of the monasteries. Passing Richard de Albani, who gave them a copy of the gospels, a missal written in letters of gold, an other precious volumes whose titles are unrecorded,[391] we come to Geoffry, a native of Gorham, who was elected abbot in the year 1119. He had been invited over to England (before he became a priest) by his predecessor, to superintend the school of St. Albans; but he delayed the voyage so long, that on his arrival he found the appointment already filled; on this he went to Dunstable, where he read lectures, and obtained some pupils. It was during his stay there that he wrote the piece which has obtained for him so much reputation. _Ubi quendam ludum de Sancta Katarinæ quem miracula vulgariter appellamus fecit_, says the Cotton manuscripts, on the vellum page of which he is portrayed in the act of writing it.[392] Geoffry, from this passage, is supposed to be the first author of dramatic literature in England; although the title seems somewhat equivocal, from the casual manner in which his famous play of St. Catherine is thus mentioned by Matthew Paris. Of its merits we are still less able to form an opinion; for nothing more than the name of that much talked of miracle play has been preserved. We may conclude, however, that it was performed with all the paraphernalia of scenery and characteristic costume; for he borrowed of the sacrist of St. Albans some copes for this purpose. On the night following the representation the house in which he resided was burnt; and, says the historian, all his books, and the copes he had borrowed were destroyed. Rendered poor indeed by this calamity, and somewhat reflecting upon himself for the event, he assumed in sorrow and despair the religious habit, and entered the monastery of St. Albans; where by his deep study, his learning and his piety, he so gained the hearts of his fraternity, that he ultimately became their abbot. He is said to have been very industrious in the transcription of books; and he "made a missal bound in gold, _auro ridimitum_, and another in two volumes; both incomparably illuminated in gold, and written in a clear and legible hand; also a precious Psalter similarly illuminated; a book containing the Benedictions and the Sacraments; a book of Exorcisms, and a Collectaria."[393] Geoffry was succeeded by Ralph de Gobium in the year 1143: he was a monk remarkable for his learning and his bibliomanical pursuits. He formerly remained some time in the services of Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, and gained the esteem of that prelate. His book-loving passion arose from hearing one "Master Wodon, of Italy, expound the doctrines of the Holy Scriptures." He from that time became a most enthusiastic _amator librorum_; and collected, with great diligence, an abundant multitude of books.[394] The matters in which he was concerned, his donations to the monastery, and the anecdotes of his life, are all unconnected with my subject; so that I am obliged to pass from this interesting monk, an undoubted bibliophile, from sheer want of information. I cannot but regret that the historian does not inform us more fully of his book collecting pursuits; but he is especially barren on that subject, although he highly esteems him for prosecuting that pleasing avocation. He died in the year 1151, in the fourteenth of King Stephen, and was followed by Robert de Gorham, who is also commemorated as a bibliophile in the pages of the Cotton manuscripts; and to judge from his portrait, and the intensity with which he pores over his volume, he was a hard and devoted student. He ordered the scribes to make a great many books; indeed, adds Paris the historian, who was himself somewhat of an _amator librorum_, "more by far than can be mentioned."[395] From another source we learn that these books were most sumptuously bound.[396] During the days of this learned abbot a devout and humble clerk asked admission at the abbey gate. Aspiring to a holy life, he ardently hoped, by thus spending his days in monastic seclusion, to render his heart more acceptable to God. Hearing his prayer, the monks conducted him into the presence of my Lord Abbot, who received him with compassionate tenderness, and kindly questioned him as to his qualifications for the duties and sacred responsibilities of the monkish priesthood; for even in those dark ages they looked a little into the learning of the applicant before he was admitted into their fraternity. But alas! the poor clerk was found wofully deficient in this respect, and was incapable of replying to the questions of my Lord Abbot, who thereupon gently answered, "My son, tarry awhile, and still exercise thyself in study, and so become more perfect for the holy office." Abashed and disappointed, he retired with a kindling blush of shame; and deeming this temporary repulse a positive refusal he left his fatherland, and started on a pilgrimage to France.[397] And who was this poor, humble, unlettered clerk? Who this simple layman, whose ignorance rendered him an unfit _socius_ for the plodding monks of old St. Albans Abbey? No less than the English born Nicholas Brekespere, afterwards his Holiness Adrian IV., Pope of Rome, Vicar-apostolic and successor of St. Peter! Yes; still bearing in mind the kind yet keen reproof of the English abbot, on his arrival in a foreign land he studied with all the depth and intensity of despair, and soon surpassed his companions in the pursuit of knowledge; and became so renowned for learning, and for his prudence, that he was made Canon of St. Rufus. His sagacity, moreover, caused him to be chosen, on three separate occasions, to undertake some important embassies to the apostolic see; and at length he was elected a cardinal. So step by step he finally became elevated to the high dignity of the popedom. The first and last of England's sons who held the keys of Peter. These shadows of the past--these shreds of a forgotten age--these echoes of five hundred years, are full of interest and instruction. For where shall we find a finer example--a more cheering instance of what perseverance will accomplish--or a more satisfactory result of the pursuit of knowledge under difficulties? Not only may these curious facts cheer the dull student now, and inspire him with that energy so essential to success, but these whisperings of old may serve as lessons for ages yet to come. For if _we_ look back upon those dark days with such feelings of superiority, may not the wiser generations of the future regard _us_ with a still more contemptuous, yet curious eye? And when they look back at our Franklins, and our Johnsons, in astonishment at such fine instances of what perseverance could do, and what energy and plodding industry could accomplish, even when surrounded with the difficulties of _our_ ignorance; how much more will they praise this bright example, in the dark background of the historical tableaux, who, without even our means of obtaining knowledge--our libraries or our talent--rose by patient, hard and devoted study, from Brekespere the humble clerk--the rejected of St. Albans--to the proud title of Vicar-apostolic of Christ and Pope of Rome! Simon, an Englishman, a clerk and a "man of letters and good morals," was elected abbot in the year 1167. All my authorities concur in bestowing upon him the honor and praise appertaining to a bibliomaniac. He was, says one, an especial lover of books, _librorum amator speciales_: and another in panegyric terms still further dubs him an _amator scripturarum_. All this he proved, and well earned the distinction, by the great encouragement he gave to the collecting and transcribing of books. The monkish pens he found moving too slow, and yielding less fruit than formerly. He soon, however, set them hard at work again; and to facilitate their labors, he added materially to the comforts of the Scriptorium by repairing and enlarging it; "and always," says the monk from whom I learn this, "kept two or three most choice scribes in the Camera (Scriptorium,) who sustained its reputation, and from whence an abundant supply of the most excellent books were continually produced.[398] He framed some efficient laws for its management, and ordered that, in subsequent times, every abbot should keep and support one able scribe at least. Among the 'many choice books and authentic volumes,' _volumina authentica_, which he by this care and industry added to the abbey library, was included a splendid copy of the Old and New Testament, transcribed with great accuracy and beautifully written--indeed, says the manuscript history of that monastery, so noble a copy was nowhere else to be seen.[399] But besides this, Abbot Simon gave them all those precious books which he had been for a 'long time' collecting himself at great cost and patient labor, and having bound them in a sumptuous and marvellous manner,[400] he made a library for their reception near the tomb of Roger the Hermit.[401] He also bestowed many rich ornaments and much costly plate on the monastery; and by a long catalogue of good deeds, too ample to be inserted here, he gained the affections and gratitude of his fraternity, who loudly praised his virtues and lamented his loss when they laid him in his costly tomb. There is a curious illumination of this monkish bibliophile in the Cotton manuscript. He is represented deeply engaged with his studies amidst a number of massy volumes, and a huge trunk is there before him crammed with rough old fashioned large clasped tomes, quite enticing to look upon."[402] After Simon came Garinus, who was soon succeeded by one John. Our attention is arrested by the learned renown of this abbot, who had studied in his youth at Paris, and obtained the unanimous praise of his masters for his assiduous attention and studious industry. He returned with these high honors, and was esteemed in grammar a Priscian, in poetry an Ovid, and in physic equal to Galen.[403] With such literary qualifications, it was to be expected the Scriptorium would flourish under his government, and the library increase under his fostering care. Our expectations are not disappointed; for many valuable additions were made during his abbacy, and the monks over whom he presided gave many manifestations of refinement and artistic talent, which incline us to regard the ingenuity of the cloisters in a more favorable light. Raymond, his prior, was a great help in all these undertakings. His industry seems to have been unceasing in beautifying the church, and looking after the transcription of books. With the assistance of Roger de Parco, the cellarer, he made a large table very handsome, and partly fabricated of metal. He wrote two copies of the Gospels, and bound them in silver and gold adorned with various figures. Brother Walter of Colchester, with Randulph, Gubium and others, produced some very handsome paintings comprising the evangelists and many holy saints, and hung them up in the church. "As we have before mentioned, by the care and industry of the lord Raymond, many noble and useful books were transcribed and given to the monastery. The most remarkable of these was a Historia Scholastica, with allegorics, a most elegant book--_liber elegantissimus_ exclaims my monkish authority."[404] This leads me to say something more of my lord prior, for the troubles which the conscientious conduct of old Raymond brought upon himself-- "Implores the passing tribute of a sigh." Be it known then that William de Trompington succeeded to the abbacy on the death of John; but he was a very different man, without much esteem for learning; and thinking I am afraid far more of the world and heaven or the _Domus Dei_. Alas! memoirs of bad monks and worldly abbots are sometimes found blotting the holy pages of the monkish annals. _Domus Dei est porta coeli_, said the monks; and when they closed the convent gates they did not look back on the world again, but entered on that dull and gloomy path with a full conviction that they were leaving all and following Christ, and so acting in accordance with his admonitions; but those who sought the convent to forget in its solitude their worldly cares and worldly disappointments, too often found how futile and how ineffectual was that dismal life to eradicate the grief of an overburdened heart, or to subdue the violence of misguided temper. The austerity of the monastic rules might tend to conquer passion or moderate despair, but there was little within those walls to drive painful recollections of the outward world away; for at every interval between their holy meditations and their monkish duties, images of the earth would crowd back upon their minds, and wring from their ascetic hearts tributes of anguish and despair; and so we find the writings and letters of the old monks full of vain regrets and misanthropic thoughts, but sometimes overflowing with the most touching pathos of human misery. Yet the monk knew full well what his duty was, and knew how sinful it was to repine or rebel against the will of God. If he vowed obedience to his abbot, he did not forget that obedience was doubly due to Him; and strove with all the strength that weak humanity could muster, to forget the darkness of the past by looking forward with a pious hope and a lively faith to the brightness and glory of the future. By constant prayer the monk thought more of his God, and gained help to strengthen the faith within him; and by assiduous and devoted study he disciplined his heart of flesh--tore from it what lingering affection for the world remained, and deserting all love of earth and all love of kin, purged and purified it for his holy calling, and closed its portals to render it inaccessible to all sympathy of blood. If a thought of those shut out from him by the monastic walls stole across his soul and mingled with his prayer, he started and trembled as if he had offered up an unholy desire in the supplication. To him it was a proof that his nature was not yet subdued; and a day of study and meditation, with a fast unbroken till the rays of the morrow's sun cast their light around his little cell, absolved the sin, and broke the tie that bound him to the world without. If this violence was experienced in subduing the tenderest of human sympathy; how much more severe was the conflict of dark passions only half subdued, or malignant depravity only partially reformed. These dark lines of human nature were sometimes prominent, even when the monk was clothed in sackcloth and ashes; and are markedly visible in the life of William de Trompington. But let not the reader think that he was appointed with the hearty suffrages of the fraternity, he was elected at the recommendation of the "king," a very significant term in those days of despotic rule, at which choice became a mere farce. "Out of the fulness of the heart the mouth speaketh;" and the monks soon began to perceive with regret and trembling the worldly ways of the new abbot, which he could not hide even under his abbatical robes. In a place dedicated to holy deeds and heavenly thoughts, worldly conduct or unbridled passion strikes the mind as doubly criminal, and loads the heart with dismay and suffering; at least so my lord Prior regarded it, whose righteous indignation could no longer endure these manifestations of a worldly mind. So he gently remonstrated with his superior, and hinted at the impropriety of such conduct. This was received not in Christian fellowship, but with haughty and passionate displeasure; and from that day the fate of poor Raymond was irrevocably sealed. The abbot thinking to suppress the dissatisfaction which was now becoming general and particularly inconvenient, sent him a long distance off to the cell of Tynmouth in Northumberland, where all were strangers to him. Nor could the tears of the old man turn the heart of his cruel lord, nor the rebellious murmurings of the brothers avail. Thank God such cases are not very frequent; and the reader of monkish annals will not find many instances of such cold and unfeeling cruelty to distress his studies or to arouse his indignation. But obedience was a matter of course in the monastery; it was one of the most imperative duties of the monk, and if not cheerfully he was compelled to manifest alacrity in fulfilling even the most unpleasant mandate. But I would have forgiven this transaction on the score of _expediency_ perhaps, had not the abbot heaped additional insults and cruelties upon the aged offender; but his books which he had transcribed with great diligence and care, he forcibly deprived him of, _violenter spoliatum_, and so robbed him, as his historian says, of all those things which would have been a comfort and solace to his old age.[405] The books which the abbot thus became dishonestly possessed of--for I cannot regard it in any other light--we are told he gave to the library of the monastery; and he also presented some books to more than one neighboring church.[406] But he was not bookworm himself, and dwelt I suspect with greater fondness over his wealthy rent roll than on the pages of the fine volumes in the monastic library. The monks, however, amidst all these troubles retained their love of books; indeed it was about this time that John de Basingstoke, who had studied at Athens, brought a valuable collection of Greek books into England, and greatly aided in diffusing a knowledge of that language into this country. He was deacon of Saint Albans, and taught many of the monks Greek; Nicholas, a chaplain there, became so proficient in it, that he was capable of greatly assisting bishop Grostete in translating his Testament of the twelve patriarchs into Latin.[407] Roger de Northone, the twenty-fourth abbot of Saint Albans, gave "many valuable and choice books to the monastery," and among them the commentaries of Raymond, Godfrey, and Bernard, and a book containing the works and discourses of Seneca. His bibliomaniacal propensities, and his industry in transcribing books, is indicated by an illumination representing this worthy abbot deeply engrossed with his ponderous volumes.[408] I have elsewhere related an anecdote of Wallingford, abbot of St. Albans, and the sale of books effected between him and Richard de Bury. It appears that rare and munificent collector gave many and various noble books, _multos et varios libros nobiles_, to the monastery of St. Albans whilst he was bishop of Durham.[409] Michael de Wentmore succeeded Wallingford, and proved a very valuable benefactor to the monastery; and by wise regulations and economy greatly increased the comforts and good order of the abbey. He gave many books, _plures libros_, to the library, besides two excellent Bibles,[410] one for the convent and one for the abbot's study, and to be kept especially for his private reading; an ordinal, very beautiful to look upon, being sumptuously bound.[411] Indeed, so _multis voluminibus_ did he bestow, that he expended more than 100_l._ in this way, an immense sum in those old days, when a halfpenny a day was deemed fair wages for a scribe.[412] Wentmore was succeeded by Thomas de la Mare, a man of singular learning, and remarkable as a patron of it in others; it was probably by his direction that John of Tynmouth wrote his Sanctilogium Britannæ, for that work was dedicated to him. A copy, presented by Thomas de la Mare to the church of Redburn, is in the British Museum, much injured by fire, but retaining at the end the following lines: "Hunc librum dedet Dominus Thomas de la Mare, Albas monasterii S. Albani Anglorum Proto martyris Deo et Ecclesiæ B. Amphibali de Redburn, ut fratris indem in cursu existentus per ejus lecturam poterint coelestibus instrui, et per Sanctorum exempla virtutibus insignixi."[413] But there are few who have obtained so much reputation as John de Whethamstede, perhaps the most learned abbot of this monastery. He was formerly monk of the cell at Tynmouth, and afterwards prior of Gloucester College at Oxford, from whence he was appointed to the government of St. Albans. Whethamstede was a passionate bibliomaniac, and when surrounded with his books he cared little, or perhaps from the absence of mind so often engendered by the delights of study, he too frequently forgot, the important affairs of his monastery, and the responsible duties of an abbot; but absorbed as he was with his studies, Whethamstede was not a mere ..... "Bookful blockhead ignorantly read With loads of learned lumber in his head." It is true he was an inveterate reader, amorously inclined towards vellum tomes and illuminated parchments; but he did not covet them like some collectors for the mere pride of possessing them, but gloried in feasting on their intellectual charms and delectable wisdom, and sought in their attractive pages the means of becoming a better Christian and a wiser man. But he was so excessively fond of books, and became so deeply engrossed with his book-collecting pursuits, that it is said some of the monks showed a little dissatisfaction at his consequent neglect of the affairs of the monastery; but these are faults I cannot find the heart to blame him for, but am inclined to consider his conduct fully redeemed by the valuable encouragement he gave to literature and learning. Generous to a fault, abundant in good deeds and costly expenditure, he became involved in pecuniary difficulties, and found that the splendor and wealth which he had scattered so lavishly around his monastery, and the treasures with which he had adorned the library shelves, had not only drained his ample coffers, but left a large balance unsatisfied. Influenced by this circumstance, and the murmurings of the monks, and perhaps too, hoping to obtain more time for study and book-collecting, he determined to resign his abbacy, and again become a simple brother. The proceedings relative to this affair are curiously related by a contemporary, John of Amersham.[414] In Whethamstede's address to the monks on this occasion, he thus explains his reasons for the step he was about to take. After a touching address, wherein he intimates his determination, he says,[415] "Ye have known moreover how, from the first day of my appointment even until this day, assiduously and continually without any intermission I have shown singular solicitude in four things, to wit, in the erection of conventual buildings, _in the writing of books_, in the renewal of vestments, and in the acquisition of property. And perhaps, by reason of this solicitude of mine, ye conceive that I have fallen into debt; yet that you may know, learn and understand what is in this matter the certain and plain truth, and when ye know it ye may report it unto others, know ye for certain, yea, for most certain, that for all these things about which, and in which I have expended money, I am not indebted to any one living more than 10,000 marks; but that I wish freely to acknowledge this debt, and so to make satisfaction to every creditor, that no survivor of any one in the world shall have to demand anything from my successor." The monks on hearing this declaration were sorely affected, and used every persuasion to induce my lord abbot to alter his determination, but without success; so that they were compelled to seek another in whom to confide the government of their abbey. Their choice fell upon John Stokes, who presided over them for many years; but at his death the love and respect which the brothers entertained for Whethamstede, was manifested by unanimously electing him again, an honor which he in return could not find the heart to decline. But during all this time, and after his restoration, he was constantly attending to the acquisition of books, and numerous were the transcripts made under his direction by the scribes and enriched by his munificence, for some of the most costly copies produced in that century were the fruits of their labor; during his time there were more volumes transcribed than in that of any other abbot since the foundation of the abbey, says the manuscript from whence I am gleaning these details, and adds that the number of them exceeded eighty-seven. He commenced the transcription of the great commentary of Nicholas de Lyra upon the whole Bible, which had then been published some few years. "Det Deus, ut in nostris felicem habere valeat consummacionem,"[416] exclaims the monk, nor will the reader be surprised at the expression, if he for one moment contemplates the magnitude of the undertaking. But not only was Whethamstede remarkable as a bibliomaniac--he claims considerable respect as an author. Some of his productions were more esteemed in his own time than now; being compilations and commentaries more adapted as a substitute for other books, than valuable as original works. Under this class I am inclined to place his Granarium, a large work in five volumes; full of miscellaneous extracts, etc., and somewhat partaking of the encyclopediac form; his Propinarium, in two volumes, also treating of general matters; his Pabularium and Palearium Poetarium, and his Proverbiarium, or book of Proverbs; to which may be added the many pieces relating to the affairs of the monastery. But far different must we regard many of his other productions, which are more important in a literary point of view, as calling for the exercise of a refined and cultivated mind, and no small share of critical acumen. Among these I must not forget to include his Chronicle,[417] which spreading over a space of twenty years, forms a valuable historical document. The rest are poetical narratives, embracing an account of Jack Cade's insurrection--the battles of Ferrybridge, Wakefield, and St. Albans.[418] A Cottonian manuscript contained a catalogue of the books which this worthy abbot compiled, or which were transcribed under his direction: unfortunately it was burnt, with many others forming part of that inestimable collection.[419] From another source we learn the names of some of them, and the cost incurred in their transcription.[420] Twenty marks were paid for copying his Granarium, in four volumes; forty shillings for his Palearium; the same for a Polycraticon of John of Salisbury; five pounds for a Boethius, with a gloss; upwards of six pounds for "a book of Cato," enriched with a gloss and table; and four pounds for Gorham upon Luke. Whethamstede ordered a Grael to be written so beautifully illuminated, and so superbly bound, as to be valued at the enormous sum of twenty pounds: but let it be remembered that my Lord Abbot was a very epicure in books, and thought a great deal of choice bindings, tall copies, immaculate parchment, and brilliant illuminations, and the high prices which he freely gave for these book treasures evince how sensible he was to the joys of bibliomania; nor am I inclined to regard the works thus attained as "mere monastic trash."[421] The finest illumination in the Cotton manuscript is a portrait of Abbot Whethamstede, which for artistic talent is far superior to any in the volume. Eight folios are occupied with an enumeration of the "good works" of this liberal monk: among the items we find the sum of forty pounds having been expended on a reading desk, and four pounds for writing four Antiphoners.[422] He displayed also great liberality of spirit in his benefactions to Gloucester College, at Oxford, besides great pecuniary aid. He built a library there, and gave many valuable books for the use of the students, in which he wrote these verses: Fratribus Oxonioe datur in minus liber iste, Per patrem pecorem prothomartyris Angligenorum: Quem si quis rapiat ad partem sive reponat, Vel Judæ loqueum, vel furcas sentiat; Amen. In others he wrote-- Discior ut docti fieret nova regia plebi Culta magisque deæ datur hic liber ara Minerva, Hic qui diis dictis libant holocausta ministrias. Et cirre bibulam sitiunt præ nectare lympham, Estque librique loci, idem datur, actor et unus.[423] If we estimate worth by comparison, we must award a large proportion to this learned abbot. Living in the most corrupt age of the monastic system, when the evils attendant on luxurious ease began to be too obvious in the cloister, and when complaints were heard at first in a whispering murmur, but anon in a stern loud voice of wroth and indignant remonstrance--when in fact the progressive, inquiring spirit of the reformation was taking root in what had hitherto been regarded as a hard, dry, stony soil. This coming tempest, only heard as yet like the lulling of a whisper, was nevertheless sufficiently loud to spread terror and dismay among the cowled habitants of the monasteries. That quietude and mental ease so indispensable to study--so requisite for the growth of thought and intellectuality, was disturbed by these distant sounds, or dissipated by their own indolence. And yet in the midst of all this, rendered still more anxious and perplexing by domestic troubles and signs of discontent and insubordination among the monks. Whethamstede found time, and what was better the spirit, for literary and bibliomanical pursuits. Honor to the man, monk though he be, who oppressed with these vicissitudes and cares could effect so much, and could appreciate both literature and art. Contemporary with him we are not surprised that he gained the patronage and friendship of Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, to whom he dedicated many of his own performances, and greatly aided in collecting those treasures which the duke regarded with such esteem. It is said that noble collector frequently paid a friendly visit to the abbey to inspect the work of the monkish scribes, and perhaps to negociate for some of those choice vellum tomes for which the monks of that monastery were so renowned. But we must not pass the "good duke" without some slight notice of his "ryghte valiant deedes," his domestic troubles and his dark mysterious end. Old Foxe thus speaks of him in his Actes and Monuments: "Of manners he seemed meeke and gentle, louing the commonwealth, a supporter of the poore commons, of wit and wisdom, discrete and studious, well affected to religion and a friend to verity, and no lesse enemy to pride and ambition, especially in haughtie prelates, which was his undoing in this present evil world. And, which is seldom and rare in such princes of that calling, he was both learned himselfe and no lesse given to studie, and also a singular favourer and patron to those who were studious and learned."[424] To which I cannot refrain from adding the testimony of Hollingshed, who tells us that "The ornaments of his mind were both rare and admirable; the feats of chiualrie by him commensed and atchiued valiant and fortunate; his grauitie in counsell and soundnesse of policie profound and singular; all which with a traine of other excellent properties linked together, require a man of manifold gifts to aduance them according to their dignitie. I refer the readers unto Maister Foxe's booke of Actes and Monuments. Onelie this I ad, that in respect of his noble indowments and his demeanor full of decencie, which he dailie used, it seemeth he might wel haue giuen this prettie poesie:" "Virtute duce non sanguine nitor."[425] But with all these high qualities, our notions of propriety are somewhat shocked at the open manner in which he kept his mistress Eleanor Cobham; but we can scarcely agree in the condemnation of the generality of historians for his marrying her afterwards, but regard it rather as the action of an honorable man, desirous of making every reparation in his power.[426] But the "pride of birth" was sorely wounded by the espousals; and the enmity of the aristocracy already roused, now became deeply rooted. Eleanor's disposition is represented as passionate and unreasonable, and her mind sordid and oppressive. Be this how it may, we must remember that it is from her enemies we learn it; and if so, unrelenting persecution and inveterate malice were proceedings ill calculated to soothe a temper prone to violence, or to elevate a mind undoubtedly weak. But the vindictive and haughty cardinal Beaufort was the open and secret enemy of the good duke Humphrey; for not only did he thwart every public measure proposed by his rival, but employed spies to insinuate themselves into his domestic circle, and to note and inform him of every little circumstance which malice could distort into crime, or party rage into treason. This detestable espionage met with a too speedy success. The duke, who was especially fond of the society of learned men, retained in his family many priests and clerks, and among them one Roger Bolingbroke, "a famous necromancer and astronomer." This was a sufficient ground for the enmity of the cardinal to feed upon, and he determined to annihilate at one blow the domestic happiness of his rival. He arrested the Duchess, Bolingbroke, and a witch called Margery Gourdimain, or Jourdayn, on the charge of witchcraft and treason. He accused the priest and Margery of making, and the duchess for having in her possession, a waxen figure, which, as she melted it before a slow fire, so would the body of the king waste and decay, and his marrow wither in his bones. Her enemies tried her, and of course found her and her companions guilty, though without a shred of evidence to the purpose. The duchess was sentenced to do penance in St. Paul's and two other churches on three separate days, and to be afterwards imprisoned in the Isle of Man for life. Bolingbroke, who protested his innocence to the last, was hung and quartered at Tyburn; and Margery, the witch of Eye, as she was called, was burnt at Smithfield. But the black enmity of the cardinal was sorely disappointed at the effect produced by this persecution. He reasonably judged that no accusation was so likely to arouse a popular prejudice against duke Humphrey as appealing to the superstition of the people who in that age were ever prone to receive the most incredulous fabrications; but far different was the impression made in the present case. The people with more than their usual sagacity saw through the flimsy designs of the cardinal and his faction; and while they pitied the victims of party malice, loved and esteemed the good duke Humphrey more than ever. But the intriguing heart of Beaufort soon resolved upon the most desperate measures, and shrunk not from staining his priestly hands with innocent and honorable blood. A parliament was summoned to meet at St. Edmunds Bury, in Suffolk, on the 10th of February, 1447, at which all the nobility were ordered to assemble. On the arrival of Duke Humphrey, the cardinal arrested him on a groundless charge of high treason, and a few days after he was found dead in his bed, his enemies gave out that he had died of the palsy; but although his body was eagerly shown to the sorrowing multitude, the people believed that their friend and favorite had been foully murdered, and feared not to raise their voice in loud accusations at the Suffolk party; "sum sayed that he was smouldered betwixt two fetherbeddes,"[427] and others declared that he had suffered a still more barbarous death. Deep was the murmuring and the grief of the people, for the good duke had won the love and esteem of their hearts; and we can fully believe a contemporary who writes-- "Compleyne al Yngland thys goode Lorde's deth."[428] Perhaps none suffered more by his death than the author and the scholar; for Duke Humphrey was a munificent patron of letters, and loved to correspond with learned men, many of whom dedicated their works to him, and received ample encouragement in return.[429] Lydgate, who knew him well, composed some of his pieces at the duke's instigation. In his Tragedies of Ihon Bochas he thus speaks of him: "Duke of Glocester men this prynce call, And not withstandyng his estate and dignitie, His courage neuer dothe appall To study in bokes of antiquitie; Therein he hath so great felicitie, Virtuously him selfe to occupye, Of vycious slouthe, he hath the maistry. And for these causes as in his entent To shewe the untrust of all worldly thinge, He gave to me in commandment As him seemed it was ryghte well fittynge That I shoulde, after my small cunning, This boke translate, him to do pleasaunce, To shew the chaung of worldly variaunce. And with support of his magnificence Under the wynges of his correction, Though that I lacke of eloquence I shall proceede in this translation. Fro me auoydyng all presumption, Louyly submittying every houre and space, My rude language to my lorde's grace. Anone after I of eutencion, With penne in hande fast gan me spede, As I coulde in my translation, In this labour further to procede, My Lorde came forth by and gan to take hede; This mighty prince right manly and right wise Gaue me charge in his prudent auyle. That I should in euery tragedy, After the processe made mencion, At the ende set a remedy, With a Lenuoy, conveyed by reason; And after that, with humble affection, To noble princes lowly it dyrect, By others fallying them selues to correct. And I obeyed his biddyng and pleasaunce Under support of his magnificence, As I coulde, I gan my penne aduaunce, All be I was barrayne of eloquence, Folowing mine auctor in substance and sétence, For it sufficeth playnly unto me, So that my lorde my makyng take in gre."[430] Lydgate often received money whilst translating this work, from the good duke Humphrey, and there is a manuscript letter in the British Museum in which he writes-- "Righte myghty prynce, and it be youre wille, Condescende leyser for to take, To se the contents of thys litel bille, Whiche whan I wrote my hand felt qquake."[431] Duke Humphrey gave a noble instance of his great love of learning in the year 1439, when he presented to the University of Oxford one hundred and twenty-nine treatises, and shortly after, one hundred and twenty-six _admirandi apparatus_; and in the same year, nine more. In 1443, he made another important donation of one hundred and thirty volumes, to which he added one hundred and thirty-five more,[432] making in all, a collection of five hundred and thirty-eight volumes. These treasures, too, had been collected with all the nice acumen of a bibliomaniac, and the utmost attention was paid to their outward condition and internal purity. Never, perhaps, were so many costly copies seen before, dazzling with the splendor of their illuminations, and rendered inestimable by the many faithful miniatures with which they were enriched. A superb copy of Valerius Maximus is the only relic of that costly and noble gift, a solitary but illustrious example of the membraneous treasures of that ducal library.[433] But alas! those very indications of art, those exquisite illuminations, were the fatal cause of their unfortunate end; the portraits of kings and eminent men, with which the historical works were adorned; the diagrams which pervaded the scientific treatises, were viewed by the zealous reformers of Henry's reign, as damning evidence of their Popish origin and use; and released from the chains with which they were secured, they were hastily committed to the greedy flames. Thus perished the library of Humphrey, duke of Gloucester! and posterity have to mourn the loss of many an early gem of English literature.[434] But in the fourteenth century many other honorable examples occur of lay collectors. The magnificent volumes, nine hundred in number, collected by Charles V. of France, a passionate bibliomaniac, were afterwards brought by the duke of Bedford into England. The library then contained eight hundred and fifty-three volumes, so sumptuously bound and gorgeously illuminated as to be valued at 2,223 livres![435] This choice importation diffused an eager spirit of inquiry among the more wealthy laymen. Humphrey, the "good duke," received some of these volumes as presents, and among others, a rich copy of Livy, in French.[436] Guy Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, also collected some choice tomes, and possessed an unusually interesting library of early romances. He left the whole of them to the monks of Bordesley Abbey in Worcestershire, about the year 1359.[437] As a specimen of a private library in the fourteenth century, I am tempted to extract it. "A tus iceux, qe ceste lettre verront, ou orrount, Gwy de Beauchamp, Comte de Warr. Saluz en Deu. Saluz nous aveir baylé e en la garde le Abbé e le Covent de Bordesleye, lessé à demorer a touz jours touz les Romaunces de sonz nomes; ceo est assaveyr, un volum, qe est appelé Tresor. Un volum, en le quel est le premer livere de Lancelot, e un volum del Romaunce de Aygnes. Un Sauter de Romaunce. Un volum des Evangelies, e de Vie des Seins. Un volum, qe p'le des quatre principals Gestes de Charles, e de dooun, e de Meyace e de Girard de Vienne e de Emery de Nerbonne. Un volum del Romaunce Emmond de Ageland, e deu Roy Charles dooun de Nauntoyle. E le Romaunce de Gwyoun de Nauntoyl. E un volum del Romaunce Titus et Vespasien. E un volum del Romaunce Josep ab Arimathie, e deu Seint Grael. E un volum, qe p'le coment Adam fust eniesté hors de paradys, e le Genesie. E un volum en le quel sount contenuz touns des Romaunces, ceo este assaveir, Vitas patrum au comencement; e pus un Comte de Auteypt; e la Vision Seint Pol; et pus les Vies des xii. Seins. E le Romaunce de Willame de Loungespe. E Autorites des Seins humes. E le Mirour de Alme. Un volum, en le quel sount contenuz la Vie Seint Pére e Seint Pol, e des autres liv. E un volum qe est appelé l'Apocalips. E un livere de Phisik, e de Surgie. Un volum del Romaunce de Gwy, e de la Reygne tut enterement. Un volum del Romaunce de Troies. Un volum del Romaunce de Willame de Orenges e de Teband de Arabie. Un volum del Romaunce de Amase e de Idoine. Un volum del Romaunce de Girard de Viene. Un volum del Romaunce deu Brut, e del Roy Costentine. Un volum de le enseignemt Aristotle enveiez au Roy Alisaundre. Un volum de la mort ly Roy Arthur, e de Mordret. Un volum en le quel sount contenuz les Enfaunces de Nostre Seygneur, coment il fust mené en Egipt. E la Vie Seint Edwd. E la Visioun Seint Pol. La Vengeaunce n're Seygneur par Vespasien a Titus, e la Vie Seint Nicolas, qe fust nez en Patras. E la Vie Seint Eustace. E la Vie Seint Cudlac. E la Passioun n're Seygneur. E la Meditacioun Seint Bernard de n're Dame Seint Marie, e del Passioun sour deuz fiz Jesu Creist n're Seignr. E la Vie Seint Eufrasie. E la Vie Seint Radegounde. E la Vie Seint Juliane. Un volum, en le quel est aprise de Enfants et lumière à Lays. Un volum del Romaunce d'a Alisaundre, ove peintures. Un petit rouge livere, en le quel sount contenuz mons diverses choses. Un volum del Romaunce des Mareschans, e de Ferebras e de Alisaundre. Les queus livres nous grauntons par nos heyrs e par nos assignes qil demorront en la dit Abbeye, etc." FOOTNOTES: [385] See a fine manuscript in the Cotton collection marked Nero D. vii., and another marked Claudius E. iv., both of which I have consulted. [386] Matthew Paris' Edit. Wats, tom. i. p. 39. [387] "Asserens ad cantelam, ipsum fuisse beati Amphibali, beate Albini magistri, caracellam."--Mat. Paris, p. 44. [388] Abjectis igitur et combustis libris, in quibus commenta diaboli continabantur. [389] MS. Cottonian, E. iv. fo. 101; Mat. Paris, Edit. Wat. i. p. 41. [390] MS. Cottanian Claudius, E. iv. fo. 105 b., and MS. Cott. Nero, D. vii. fo. 13, b. [391] He was elected in 1093.--See MS. Cott. Claud. E. iv. fo. 107. [392] Got. MS. Claud. E. iv. fo. 108. [393] MS. Cot. Nero, D. vii. fo. 15, a; and MS. Cot. Claud. e. iv. [394] Cot. MS. Claud. E. iv. fo. 113. "Ex tunc igitur amator librorum et adquisiter sedulus multio voluminibus habundavit." [395] Fecit etiam scribi libros plurimos; quos longum esset enarrare.--_Mat. Paris Edit. Wat._ p. 89. [396] Cot. MS. Nero D. vii. fo. 16, a. [397] MS. Claud. E. iv. fo. 114, a. [398] MS. Cot. Claud. E. iv. fo. 125 b. [399] _Ibid._ [400] MS. Cot. Nero D. vii. fo. 16 a. [401] MS. Cot. Claud. iv. fo. 124. [402] Claud. E. iv. fo. 124. [403] "In grammatica Priscianus, in metrico Ovidius, in physica censori potuit Galenus." _MS. Cot. Claud._ E. iv. f. 129, b. _Matt. Paris' Edit. Wat._ p. 103. [404] MS. Cot. Claud. E. iv. fo. 131. b. [405] MS. Cot. Claud. E. iv. fol. 135 b. [406] Ibid. fol. 141. [407] MS. Reg. Brit. Mus. 4 D. viii. 4. Wood's Hist. Oxon. 1-82, and Matt. Paris. Turner's Hist. of Eng. vol. iv. p. 180. [408] MS. Cot. Nero, D. vii. fol. 19 a. [409] Ibid. fol. 86. [410] Duos bonas biblias. [411] MS. Cot. Claud. E. iv. fo. 229 b. [412] MS. Cot. Nero D. vii. fo. 20 b. [413] MS. Cot. Tiberius, E. i. [414] MS. Cot. Claud. D. i. fo. 165, "Acta Johannis Abbatis per Johannem Agmundishamensem monachum S. Albani." [415] Gibson's Hist. Monast. Tynmouth, vol. ii. p. 62, whose translation I use in giving the following extract. If the reader refers to Mr. Gibson's handsome volumes, he will find much interesting and curious matter from John of Amersham relative to this matter. [416] Otterb. cxvi.; see also MS. Cot. Nero. vii. fo. 32 a. [417] Otterbourne Hist. a Hearne, _edit._ Oxon, 1732, tom. i. 2. [418] Gough's Sepulchral Monuments, vol. ii. pt. 11, p. 205. For a list of his works see Bale; also Pits. p. 630, who enumerates more than thirty. [419] Marked Otho, b. iv. [420] MS. Arundel. Brit. Mus. clxiii. c. A curious Register, "per magistrum Johannem Whethamstede et dominum Thoman Ramryge," fo. 74, 75. Upwards of fifty volumes are specified, with the cost of each. [421] Julius Cæsar was among them.--Cot. MS. Claud. d. i. fo. 156. [422] MS. Cod. Nero, D. vii. fo. 28 a. He "enlarged the abbot's study," fo. 29, which most monasteries possessed. Whethamstede had a study also at his manor at Tittinhanger, and had inscribed on it these lines: "Ipse Johannis amor Whethamstede ubique proclamor Ejus et alter honor hic lucis in auge reponer." See also MS. Cot. Claud. D. i. fo. 157, for an account of his many donations. [423] Weever's Funerall Monuments, p. 562 to 567. I have forgotten to mention before that Whethamstede built a new library for the abbey books, and expended considerably more than £120 upon the building. [424] Foxe's Actes and Monuments, folio, Lond. 1576, p. 679. [425] Holingshed Chronicle, fol. 1587, vol. ii. p. 627. [426] See Stowe, p. 367. [427] Leland Collect. vol. i. p. 494. [428] MS. Harleian, No. 2251, fol. 7 b. [429] Capgrave's Commentary on Genesis, in Oriel College, Cod. MSS. 32, is dedicated to him. Aretine's Trans. Aristotle's Politics, MS. Bodl. D. i. 8-10. Pet. de Monte de Virt. de Vit. MS. Norvic. More, 257. Bibl. publi Cantab. Many others are given in Warton's Hist. of Poetry, 4to. vol. ii. pp. 48-50. [430] Tragedies of Ihon Bochas. Imp. at London, by John Wayland, fol. 38 b. [431] MS. Harleian, No. 2251, fol. 6. Lydgate received one hundred shillings for translating the Life of St. Alban into English verse for Whethamstede. [432] See Wood's Hist. and Antiq. of Oxford, vol. ii. p. 914. [433] MSS. Bodl. N. E. vii. ii. Warton, vol. ii. p. 45. I find in the Arundel Register in the British Museum (MSS. Arund. clxiii. c.) that a fine copy of Valerius, in two volumes, with a gloss, was transcribed in the time of Whethamstede at St. Albans, at the cost of £6 13 4, probably the identical copy. [434] There are many volumes formerly belonging to duke Humphrey, in the public libraries, a fine volume intitled "Tabulas Humfridi ducis Glowcester in Judicus artis Geomantie," is in the Brit. Mus., MSS. Arund. 66, fo. 277, beautifully written and illuminated with excessive margins of the purest vellum. See also MSS. Harl. 1705. Leland says, "Humfredus multaties scripsit in frontispiecis librorum suorum, _Moun bien Mondain_," Script. vol. iii. 58. [435] Bouvin, Mem. de l'Acad. des Inscrip., ii. 693. [436] _Ibid._ [437] Printed in Todd's Illustrations to Gower and Chaucer, 8vo. p. 161, from a copy by Arch Sancroft, from Ashmole's Register of the Earl of Ailesbury's Evidences, fol. 110. Lambeth, MSS., No. 577. fol. 18 b. CHAPTER XII. _The Dominicans.--The Franciscans and the Carmelites.--Scholastic Studies.--Robert Grostest.--Libraries in London.--Miracle Plays.--Introduction of Printing into England.--Barkley's Description of a Bibliomaniac_. The old monastic orders of St. Augustine and St. Benedict, of whose love of books we have principally spoken hitherto, were kept from falling into sloth and ignorance in the thirteenth century by the appearance of several new orders of devotees. The Dominicans,[438] the Franciscans,[439] and the Carmelites were each renowned for their profound learning, and their unquenchable passion for knowledge; assuming a garb of the most abject poverty, renouncing all love of the world, all participation in its temporal honors, and refraining to seek the aggrandizement of their order by fixed oblations or state endowments, but adhering to a voluntary system for support, they caused a visible sensation among all classes, and wrought a powerful change in the ecclesiastical and collegiate learning of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; and by their devotion, their charity, their strict austerity, and by their brilliant and unconquerable powers of disputation, soon gained the respect and affections of the people.[440] Much as the friars have been condemned, or darkly as they have been represented, I have no hesitation in saying that they did more for the revival of learning, and the progress of English literature, than any other of the monastic orders. We cannot trace their course without admiration and astonishment at their splendid triumphs and success; they appear to act as intellectual crusaders against the prevailing ignorance and sloth. The finest names that adorn the literary annals of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the most prolific authors who flourished during that long period were begging friars; and the very spirit that was raised against them by the churchmen, and the severe controversal battles which they had between them, were the means of doing a vast amount of good, of exposing ignorance in high places, and compelling those who enjoyed the honors of learning to strive to merit them, by a studious application to literature and science; need I do more than mention the shining names of Duns Scotus, of Thomas Aquinas, of Roger Bacon, the founder of experimental philosophy, and the justly celebrated Robert Grostest, the most enlightened ecclesiastic of his age.[441] We may not admire the scholastic philosophy which the followers of Francis and Dominic held and expounded; we may deplore the intricate mazes and difficulties which a false philosophy led them to maintain, and we may equally deplore the waste of time and learning which they lavished in the vain hope of solving the mysteries of God, or in comprehending a loose and futile science. Yet the philosophy of the schoolmen is but little understood, and is too often condemned without reason or without proof; for those who trouble themselves to denounce, seldom care to read them; their ponderous volumes are too formidable to analyze; it is so much easier to declaim than to examine such sturdy antagonists; but we owe to the schoolmen far more than we are apt to suppose, and if it were possible to scratch their names from the page of history, and to obliterate all traces of their bulky writings from our libraries and from our literature, we should find our knowledge dark and gloomy in comparison with what it is. But the mendicant orders did not study and uphold the scholastic philosophy without improving it; the works of Aristotle, of which it is said the early schoolmen possessed only a vitiated translation from the Arabic,[442] was, at the period these friars sprung up, but imperfectly understood and taught. Michael Scot, with the assistance of a learned Jew,[443] translated and published the writings of the great philosopher in Latin, which greatly superseded the old versions derived from the Saracen copies. The mendicant friars having qualified themselves with a respectable share of Greek learning, then taught and expounded the Aristotelian philosophy according to this new translation, and opened a new and proscribed field[444] for disputation and enquiry; their indomitable perseverance, their acute powers of reasoning, and the splendid popularity which many of the disciples of St. Dominic and St. Francis were fast acquiring, caused students to flock in crowds to their seats of learning, and all who were inspired to an acquaintance with scholastic philosophy placed themselves under their training and tuition.[445] No religious order before them ever carried the spirit of inquiry to such an extent as they, or allowed it to wander over such an unbounded field. The most difficult and mysterious questions of theology were discussed and fearlessly analyzed; far from exercising that blind and easy credulity which mark the religious conduct of the old monastic orders, they were disposed to probe and examine every article of their faith. To such an extent were their disputations carried, that sometimes it shook their faith in the orthodoxy of Rome, and often aroused the pious fears of the more timid of their own order. Angell de Pisa, who founded the school of the Franciscans or Grey Friars at Oxford, is said to have gone one day into his school, with a view to discover what progress the students were making in their studies; as he entered he found them warm in disputation, and was shocked to find that the question at issue was "_whether there was a God_;" the good man, greatly alarmed, cried out, "Alas, for me! alas, for me! simple brothers pierce the heavens and the learned dispute whether there be a God!" and with great indignation ran out of the house blaming himself for having established a school for such fearful disputes; but he afterwards returned and remained among his pupils, and purchased for ten marks a corrected copy of the decretals, to which he made his students apply their minds.[446] This school was the most flourishing of those belonging to the Franciscans; and it was here that the celebrated Robert Grostest[447], bishop of Lincoln, read lectures about the year 1230. He was a profound scholar, thoroughly conversant with the most abstruse matters of philosophy, and a great Bible reader.[448] He possessed an extensive knowledge of the Greek, and translated, into Latin, Dionysius the Areopagite, Damascenus, Suida's Greek Lexicon, a Greek Grammar, and, with the assistance of Nicholas, a monk of St. Alban's, the History of the Twelve Patriarchs. He collected a fine library of Greek books, many of which he obtained from Athens. Roger Bacon speaks of his knowledge of the Greek, and says, that he caused a vast number of books to be gathered together in that tongue.[449] His extraordinary talent and varied knowledge caused him to be deemed a conjuror and astrologer by the ignorant and superstitious; and his enemies, who were numerous and powerful, did not refuse to encourage the slanderous report. We find him so represented by the poet Gower:-- "For of the grete clerk Grostest, I rede how redy that he was Upon clergye, and bede of bras, To make and forge it, for to telle Of suche thynges as befelle, And seven yeres besinesse. Ye ladye, but for the lackhesse Of 'a halfe a mynute of an houre, Fro fyrst that he began laboure, Ye lost al that he had do."[450] The Franciscan convent at Oxford contained two libraries, one for the use of the graduates and one for the secular students, who did not belong to their order, but who were receiving instruction from them. Grostest gave many volumes to these libraries, and at his death he bequeathed to the convent all his books, which formed no doubt a fine collection. "To these were added," says Wood, "the works of Roger Bacon, who, Bale tells us, writ an hundred Treatises. There were also volumes of other writers of the same order, which, I believe, amounted to no small number. In short, I guess that these libraries were filled with all sorts of erudition, because the friars of all orders, and chiefly the Franciscans, used so diligently to procure all monuments of literature from all parts, that wise men looked upon it as an injury to laymen, who, therefore, found a difficulty to get any books. Several books of Grostest and Bacon treated of astronomy and mathematics, besides some relating to the Greek tongue. But these friars, as I have found by certain ancient manuscripts, bought many Hebrew books of the Jews who were disturbed in England. In a word, they, to their utmost power, purchased whatsoever was anywhere to be had of singular learning."[451] Many of the smaller convents of the Franciscan order possessed considerable libraries, which they purchased or received as gifts from their patrons.[452] There was a house of Grey Friars at Exeter,[453] and Roger de Thoris, Archdeacon of Exeter, gave or lent them a library of books in the year 1266, soon after their establishment, reserving to himself the privilege of using them, and forbade the friars from selling or parting with them. The collection, however, contained less than twenty volumes, and was formed principally of the scriptures and writings of their own order. "Whosoever," concludes the document, "shall presume hereafter to separate or destroy this donation of mine, may he incur the malediction of the omnipotent God! dated on the day of the purification, in the year of our Lord MCCLXVI."[454] The library of the Grey Friars in London was of more than usual magnificence and extent. It was founded by the celebrated Richard Whittington. Its origin is thus set forth in an old manuscript in the Cottonian library:[455] "In the year of our Lord, 1421, the worshipful Richard Whyttyngton, knight and mayor of London, began the new library and laid the first foundation-stone on the 21st day of October; that is, on the feast of St. Hilarion the abbot. And the following year before the feast of the nativity of Christ, the house was raised and covered; and in three years after, it was floored, whitewashed, glazed,[456] adorned with shelves, statues, and carving, and furnished with books: and the expenses about what is aforesaid amount to £556:16:9; of which sum, the aforesaid Richard Whyttyngton paid £400, and the residue was paid by the reverend father B. Thomas Winchelsey and his friends, to whose soul God be propitious.--Amen." Among some items of money expended, we find, "for the works of Doctor de Lyra contained in two volumes, now in the chains,[457] 100 marks, of which B. John Frensile remitted 20s.; and for the Lectures of Hostiensis, now lying in the chains, 5 marks."[458] Leland speaks in the most enthusiastic terms of this library, and says, that it far surpassed all others for the number and antiquity of its volumes. John Wallden bequeathed as many manuscripts of celebrated authors as were worth two thousand pounds.[459] The library of the Dominicans in London was also at one time well stored with valuable books. Leland mentions some of those he found there, and among them some writings of Wicliff;[460] indeed those of this order were renowned far and wide for their love of study; look at the old portraits of a Dominican friar, and you will generally see him with the pen in one hand and a book in the other; but they were more ambitious in literature than the monks, and aimed at the honors of an author rather than at those of a scribe; but we are surprised more at their fertility than at their style or originality in the mysteries of bookcraft. Henry Esseburn diligently read at Oxford, and devoted his whole soul to study, and wrote a number of works, principally on the Bible; he was appointed to govern the Dominican monastery at Chester; "being remote from all schools, he made use of his spare hours to revise and polish what he had writ at Oxford; having performed the same to his own satisfaction, he caused his works to be fairly transcribed, and copies of them to be preserved in several libraries of his order."[461] But they did not usually pay so much attention to the duties of transcribing. The Dominicans were fond of the physical sciences, and have been accused of too much partiality for occult philosophy. Leland tells us that Robert Perserutatur, a Dominican, was over solicitous in prying into the secrets of philosophy,[462] and lays the same charge to many others. The Carmelites were more careful in transcribing books than the Dominicans, and anxiously preserved them from dust and worms; but I can find but little notice of their libraries; the one at Oxford was a large room, where they arranged their books in cases made for that purpose; before the foundation of this library, the Carmelites kept their books in chests, and doubtless gloried in an ample store of manuscript treasures.[463] But in the fifteenth century we find the Mendicant Friars, like the order religious sects, disregarding those strict principles of piety which had for two hundred years so distinguished their order. The holy rules of St. Francis and St. Dominic were seldom read with much attention, and never practised with severity; they became careless in the propagation of religious principles, relaxed in their austerity, and looked with too much fondness on the riches and honors of the world.[464] This diminution in religious zeal was naturally accompanied by a proportionate decrease in learning and love of study. The sparkling orator, the acute controversialist, or the profound scholar, might have been searched for in vain among the Franciscans or the Dominicans of the fifteenth century. Careless in literary matters, they thought little of collecting books, or preserving even those which their libraries already contained; the Franciscans at Oxford "sold many of their books to Dr. Thomas Gascoigne, about the year 1433,[465] which he gave to the libraries of Lincoln, Durham, Baliol, and Oriel. They also declining in strictness of life and learning, sold many more to other persons, so that their libraries declined to little or nothing."[466] We are not therefore surprised at the disappointment of Leland, on examining this famous repository; his expectations were raised by the care with which he found the library guarded, and the difficulty he had to obtain access to it: but when he entered, he did not find one-third the number of books which it originally contained; but dust and cobwebs, moths and beetles he found in abundance, which swarmed over the empty shelves.[467] The mendicant friars have rendered themselves famous by introducing theatrical representations[468] for the amusement and instruction of the people. These shows were usually denominated miracles, moralities, or mysteries, and were performed by the friars in their convents or on portable stages, which were wheeled into the market places and streets for the convenience of the spectators. The friars of the monastery of the Franciscans at Coventry are particularly celebrated for their ingenuity in performing these pageants on Corpus Christi day; a copy of this play or miracle is preserved in the Cottonian Collection, written in old English rhyme. It embraces the transactions of the Old and New Testament, and is entitled _Ludus Corpus Christi_. It commences-- A PLAIE CALLED CORPUS CHRISTI.[469] Now gracyous God groundyd of all goodnesse, As thy grete glorie neuyr begynnyng had; So you succour and save all those that sytt and sese, And lystenyth to our talkyng with sylens stylle and sad, For we purpose no pertly stylle in his prese The pepyl to plese with pleys ful glad, Now lystenyth us lowly both mar and lesse Gentyllys and 3emaury off goodly lyff lad, þis tyde, We call you shewe us that we kan, How that þis werd fyrst began, And howe God made bothe worlde and man If yt ye wyll abyde. These miracles were intended to instruct the more ignorant, or those whose circumstances placed the usual means of acquiring knowledge beyond their reach; but as books became accessible, they were no longer needed; the printing press made the Bible, from which the plots of the miracle plays were usually derived, common among the people, and these gaudy representations were swept away by the Reformation; but they were temporarily revived in Queen Mary's time, with the other abominations of the church papal, for we find that "in the year 1556 a goodly stage play of the Passion of Christ was presented at the Grey Friers in London on Corpus Christi day," before the Lord Mayor and citizens;[470] but we have nothing here to do with anecdotes illustrating a period so late as this. We have now arrived at the dawn of a new era in learning, and the slow, plodding, laborious scribes of the monasteries were startled by the appearance of an invention with which their poor pens had no power to compete. The year 1472 was the last of the parchment literature of the monks, and the first in the English annals of printed learning; but we must not forget that the monks with all their sloth and ignorance, were the foremost among the encouragers of the early printing press in England; the monotony of the dull cloisters of Westminster Abbey was broken by the clanking of Caxton's press; and the prayers of the monks of old St. Albans mingled with the echoes of the pressman's labor. Little did those barefooted priests know what an opponent to their Romish rites they were fostering into life; their love of learning and passion for books, drove all fear away; and the splendor of the new power so dazzled their eyes that they could not clearly see the nature of the refulgent light just bursting through the gloom of ages. After the invention of the printing art, bibliomania took some mighty strides; and many choice collectors, full of ardor in the pursuit, became renowned for the vast book stores they amassed together. But some of their names have been preserved and good deeds chronicled by Dibdin, of bibliographical renown; so that a chapter is not necessary here to extol them. We may judge how fashionable the avocation became by the keen satire of Alexander Barkley, in his translation of Brandt's _Navis Stultifera_ or Shyp of Folys,[471] who gives a curious illustration of a bibliomaniac; and thus speaks of those collectors who amassed their book treasures without possessing much esteem for their contents. "That in this ship the chiefe place I gouerne, By this wide sea with fooles wandring, The cause is plain & easy to discerne Still am I busy, bookes assembling, For to have plentie it is a pleasaunt thing In my conceyt, to have them ay in hand, But what they meane do I not understande. "But yet I have them in great reverence And honoure, sauing them from filth & ordure By often brushing & much diligence Full goodly bounde in pleasaunt couerture Of Damas, Sattin, or els of velvet pure I keepe them sure, fearing least they should be lost, For in them is the cunning wherein I me boast. "But if it fortune that any learned man Within my house fall to disputation, I drawe the curtaynes to shewe my bokes them, That they of my cunning should make probation I love not to fall in alterication, And while the commen, my bokes I turne and winde For all is in them, and nothing in my minde. "Ptolomeus the riche caused, longe agone, Over all the worlde good bookes to be sought, Done was his commandement--anone These bokes he had, and in his studie brought, Which passed all earthly treasure as he thought, But neverthelesse he did him not apply Unto their doctrine, but lived unhappily. "Lo, in likewise of bookes I have store, But fewe I reade and fewer understande, I folowe not their doctrine nor their lore, It is ynough to beare a booke in hande. It were too muche to be in such a bande, For to be bounde to loke within the booke I am content on the fayre coveryng to looke. "Why should I studie to hurt my wit therby, Or trouble my minde with studie excessiue. Sithe many are which studie right busely, And yet therby thall they never thrive The fruite of wisdome can they not contriue, And many to studie so muche are inclinde, That utterly they fall out of their minde. "Eche is not lettred that nowe is made a lorde, Nor eche a clerke that hath a benefice; They are not all lawyers that pleas do recorde, All that are promoted are not fully wise; On suche chaunce nowe fortune throwes her dice That though we knowe but the yrishe game, Yet would he have a gentleman's name. "So in like wise I am in suche case, Though I nought can, I would be called wise, Also I may set another in my place, Whiche may for me my bokes exercise, Or els I shall ensue the common guise, And say concedo to euery argument, Least by much speache my latin should be spent. "I am like other Clerkes, which so frowardly them gyde, That after they are once come unto promotion, They give them to pleasure, their study set aside, Their auarice couering with fained deuotion; Yet dayly they preache and have great derision Against the rude laymen, and all for couetise, Through their owne conscience be blended with that vice. "But if I durst truth plainely utter and expresse, This is the speciall cause of this inconvenience, That greatest of fooles & fullest of lewdness, Having least wit and simplest science, Are first promoted, & have greatest reverence; For if one can flatter & bear a hauke on his fist, He shall be made Parson of Honington or of Elist. "But he that is in study ay firme and diligent, And without all favour preacheth Christe's love, Of all the Cominalite nowe adayes is sore shent, And by estates threatned oft therfore. Thus what anayle is it to us to study more, To knowe ether Scripture, truth, wisdome, or virtue, Since fewe or none without fauour dare them shewe. "But O noble Doctours, that worthy are of name, Consider oure olde fathers, note well their diligence, Ensue ye to their steppes, obtayne ye suche fame As they did living; and that, by true prudence Within their heartes, thy planted their science, And not in pleasaunt bookes, but noue to fewe suche be, Therefore to this ship come you & rowe with me. "The Lennoy of Alexander Barclay, Translatour, exhorting the fooles accloyed with this vice, to amende their foly. "Say worthie Doctours & Clerkes curious, What moneth you of bookes to have such number, Since diuers doctrines through way contrarious, Doth man's minde distract and sore encomber. Alas blinde men awake, out of your slumber; And if ye will needes your bookes multiplye, With diligence endeuor you some to occupye."[472] FOOTNOTES: [438] Thirteen Dominicans were sent into England in the year 1221; they held their first provincial council in England in 1230 at Oxford, three years before St. Dominic was canonized by pope Gregory. [439] Four clercs and five laymen of the Franciscan order were sent into England in 1224; ten years afterwards we find their disciples spreading over the whole of England. [440] Edward the Second regarded them with great favor, and wrote several letters to the pope in their praise; he says in one, "Desiderantes itaque, pater sancte ordinis fratrum prædicatorum Oxonii, ubi religionis devotio, et honestatis laudabilis decer viget, per quem etiam honor universitatis Oxoniensis, et utilitas ibidem studentium, etc." Dugdale's Monast. vol. vi. p. 1492. [441] A list of celebrated authors who flourished in England, and who were members of the Dominican Order, will be found in _Steven's Monasticon_, vol. ii. p. 193, more than 80 names are mentioned. A similar list of authors of the Franciscan order will be found at p. 97 of vol. i. containing 122 names; and of the Carmelite authors, vol. ii. p. 160, specifying 137 writers; a great proportion of their works are upon the Scriptures. [442] Dr. Cave says, "In scholis Christianis pene unice regnavit scholastica theologia, advocata in subsidium Aristotelis philosophia, eaque non ex Græcis fontibus _sed ex turbidis Arabum lacunis, ex versionibus male factis, male intellectis, hansta_." _Hist. Liter._, p. 615. But I am not satisfied that this has been proved, though often affirmed. [443] It was probably the work of Andrew the Jew. _Meiners_, ii. p. 664. [444] At a council held at Paris in the year 1209, the works of Aristotle were proscribed and ordered to be burnt. _Launvius de Varia Aristotelis fortuna_. But in spite of the papal mandate the friars revived its use. Richard Fizacre, an intimate friend of Roger Bacon, was so passionately fond of reading Aristotle, that he always carried one of his works in his bosom. _Stevens Monast._, vol. ii. p. 194. [445] See what has been said of the Mendicants at p. 79. [446] Steven's additions to Dugdale's Monasticon from the MSS. of Anthony a Wood in the library at Oxford, vol. i. p. 129. Agnell himself was "_a man of scarce any erudition_."--_Ibid._ [447] He is spoken of under a multitude of names, sometimes Grosthead, Grouthead, etc. A list of them will be found in Wood's Oxford by Gutch, vol. i. p. 198. [448] He gives strict injunctions as to the study of the Scriptures in his _Constitutiones_.--See Pegge's Life of Grostest, p. 315. [449] Utilitate Scientiarum, cap. xxxix. [450] De Confess. Amantis, lib. iv. fo. 70, _Imprint_. Caxton _at Westminster_, 1483. The bishop is said to have taken a journey from England to Rome one night on an infernal horse.--Pegge's Life of Grostest, p. 306. [451] Stephen's additions to Dugdale's Monasticon from Anthony a Wood's MSS. vol. i. p. 133. [452] The Mendicant orders, unlike the monks, were not remarkable for their industry in transcribing books: their roving life was unsuitable to the tedious profession of a scribe. [453] Leland's Itin. vol. iii. p. 59. [454] Oliver's Collections relating to the Monasteries in Devon, 8vo. 1820, appendix lxii. [455] Cottonian MSS. Vittel, F. xii. 13. fol. 325, headed "_De Fundacione Librarie_." [456] The library was 129 feet long and 31 feet broad, and most beautifully fitted up.--_Lelandi Antiquarii Collectanea_, vol. i. p. 109. [457] This refers to the custom then prevalent of chaining their books, especially their choice ones, to the library shelf, or to a reading desk. [458] MS. _ibid._ fo. o. 325 b. [459] Script. Brit. p. 241, and Collectanea, iii. 52. [460] Leland's Collect. vol. iii. p. 51. He found in the priory of the Dominicans at Cambridge, among other books, a _Biblia in lingua vernacula_. [461] Steven's Monast. vol. ii. p. 194. [462] His works were of the impressions of the Air--of the Wonder of the Elements--of Ceremonial Magic--of the Mysteries of Secrets--and the Correction of Chemistry. [463] Sieben's Monast. vol. i. p. 183, from the MSS. of Anthony a Wood, who says, "What became of them (their books) at the dissolution unless they were carried into the library of some college, I know not." [464] They obtained much wealth by the sale of pardons and indulgences. Margaret Est, of the convent of Franciscans, ordered her letters of pardon and absolution, to partake of the indulgences of the convent, to be returned as soon she was buried. _Bloomfield's Hist. of Norfolk_, vol. ii. p. 565. [465] And among others of St. Augustine's books, _De Civitate Dei_, with many notes in the margins, by Grostest. _Wood's Hist. Oxon_, p. 78. [466] Anthony a Wood in Steven's Monast. vol. i. p. 133. [467] Script. Brit. p. 286. [468] Le Boeuf gives an instance of one being represented as early as the eleventh century, in which Virgil was introduced. _Hallam's Lit. of Europe_, vol. i. p. 295. The case of Geoffry of St. Albans is well known, and I have already mentioned it. [469] MS. Cottonian Vespasian, D. viii. fo. 1. Codex Chart. 225 folios, written in the fifteenth century. Sir W. Dugdale, in his Hist. of Warwick, p. 116, mentions this volume; and Stevens, in his Monast. has printed a portion of it. Mr. Halliwell has printed them with much care and accuracy. [470] MS. Cottonian Vitel. E. 5. _Warton's Hist. Eng. Poetry_, vol. iii. p. 326. [471] The original was written in 1494. [472] Ship of Fooles, folio 1570, Imprynted by Cawood, fol. 1. CHAPTER XIII. _Conclusion._ We have traversed through the darkness of many long and dreary centuries, and with the aid of a few old manuscripts written by the monks in the _scriptoria_ of their monasteries, caught an occasional glimpse of their literary labors and love of books; these parchment volumes being mere monastic registers, or terse historic compilations, do not record with particular care the anecdotes applicable to my subject, but appear to be mentioned almost accidentally, and certainly without any ostentatious design; but such as they are we learn from them at least one thing, which some of us might not have known before--that the monks of old, besides telling their beads, singing psalms, and muttering their breviary, had yet one other duty to perform--the transcription of books. And I think there is sufficient evidence that they fulfilled this obligation with as much zeal as those of a more strictly monastic or religious nature. It is true, in casting our eye over the history of their labors, many regrets will arise that they did not manifest a little more taste and refinement in their choice of books for transcribing. The classical scholar will wish the holy monks had thought more about his darling authors of Greece and Rome; but the pious puritan historian blames them for patronizing the romantic allurements of Ovid, or the loose satires of Juvenal, and throws out some slanderous hint that they must have found a sympathy in those pages of licentiousness, or why so anxious to preserve them? The protestant is still more scandalized, and denounces the monks, their books, scriptorium and all together as part and parcel of popish craft and Romish superstition. But surely the crimes of popedom and the evils of monachism, that thing of dry bones and fabricated relics, are bad enough; and the protestant cause is sufficiently holy, that we may afford to be honest if we cannot to be generous. What good purpose then will it serve to cavil at the monks forever? All readers of history know how corrupt they became in the fifteenth century; how many evils were wrought by the craft of some of them, and how pernicious the system ultimately waxed. We can all, I say, reflect upon these things, and guard against them in future; but it is not just to apply the same indiscriminate censure to all ages. Many of the purest Christians of the church, the brightest ornaments of Christ's simple flock, were barefooted cowled monks of the cloister; devout perhaps to a fault, with simplicity verging on superstition; yet nevertheless faithful, pious men, and holy. Look at all this with an eye of charity; avoid their errors and manifold faults: but to forget the loathsome thing our minds have conjured up as the type of an ancient monk. Remember they had a few books to read, and venerated something more than the dry bones of long withered saints. Their God was our God, and their Saviour, let us trust, will be our Saviour. I am well aware that many other names might have been added to those mentioned in the foregoing pages, equally deserving remembrance, and offering pleasing anecdotes of a student's life, or illustrating the early history of English learning; many facts and much miscellaneous matter I have collected in reference to them; but I am fearful whether my readers will regard this subject with sufficient relish to enjoy more illustrations of the same kind. Students are apt to get too fond of their particular pursuit, which magnifies in importance with the difficulties of their research, or the duration of their studies. I am uncertain whether this may not be my own position, and wait the decision of my readers before proceeding further in the annals of early bibliomania. Moreover as to the simple question--Were the monks booklovers? enough I think as been said to prove it, but the enquiry is far from exhausted; and if the reader should deem the matter still equivocal and undecided, he must refer the blame to the feebleness of my pen, rather than to the barrenness of my subject. But let him not fail to mark well the instances I have given; let him look at Benedict Biscop and his foreign travels after books; at Theodore and the early Saxons of the seventh century; at Boniface, Alcuin, Ælfric, and the numerous votaries of bibliomania who flourished then. Look at the well stored libraries of St. Albans, Canterbury, Ramsey, Durham, Croyland, Peterborough, Glastonbury, and their thousand tomes of parchment literature. Look at Richard de Bury and his sweet little work on biographical experience; at Whethamstede and his industrious pen; read the rules of monastic orders; the book of Cassian; the regulations of St. Augustine; Benedict Fulgentius; and the ancient admonitions of many other holy and ascetic men. Search over the remnants and shreds of information which have escaped the ravages of time, and the havoc of cruel invasions relative to these things. Attend to the import of these small still whisperings of a forgotten age; and then, letting the eye traverse down the stream of time, mark the great advent of the Reformation; that wide gulf of monkish erudition in which was swallowed "whole shyppes full" of olden literature; think well and deeply over the huge bonfires of Henry's reign, the flames of which were kindled by the libraries which monkish industry had transcribed. A merry sound no doubt, was the crackling of those "popish books" for protestant ears to feed upon! Now all these facts thought of collectively--brought to bear one upon another--seem to favor the opinion my own study has deduced from them; that with all their superstition, with all their ignorance, their blindness to philosophic light--the monks of old were hearty lovers of books; that they encouraged learning, fostered and transcribed repeatedly the books which they had rescued from the destruction of war and time; and so kindly cherished and husbanded them as intellectual food for posterity. Such being the case, let our hearts look charitably upon them; and whilst we pity them for their superstition, or blame them for their "pious frauds," love them as brother men and workers in the mines of literature; such a course is far more honorable to the tenor of a christian's heart, than bespattering their memory with foul denunciations. Some may accuse me of having shown too much fondness--of having dwelt with a too loving tenderness in my retrospection of the middle ages. But in the course of my studies I have found much to admire. In parchment annals coeval with the times of which they speak, my eyes have traversed over many consecutive pages with increasing interest and with enraptured pleasure. I have read of old deeds worthy of an honored remembrance, where I least expected to find them. I have met with instances of faith as strong as death bringing forth fruit in abundance in those sterile times, and glorying God with its lasting incense. I have met with instances of piety exalted to the heavens--glowing like burning lava, and warming the cold dull cloisters of the monks. I have read of many a student who spent the long night in exploring mysteries of the Bible truths; and have seen him sketched by a monkish pencil with his ponderous volumes spread around him, and the oil burning brightly by his side. I have watched him in his little cell thus depicted on the ancient parchment, and have sympathized with his painful difficulties in acquiring true knowledge, or enlightened wisdom, within the convent walls; and then I have read the pages of his fellow monk--perhaps, his book-companion; and heard what _he_ had to say of that poor lonely Bible student, and have learnt with sadness how often truth had been extinguished from his mind by superstition, or learning cramped by his monkish prejudices; but it has not always been so, and I have enjoyed a more gladdening view on finding in the monk a Bible teacher; and in another, a profound historian, or pleasing annalist. As a Christian, the recollection of these cheering facts, with which my researches have been blessed, are pleasurable, and lead me to look back upon those old times with a student's fondness. But besides piety and virtue, I have met with wisdom and philanthropy; the former, too profound, and the latter, too generous for the age; but these things are precious, and worth remembering; and how can I speak of them but in words of kindness? It is these traits of worth and goodness that have gained my sympathies, and twined round my heart, and not the dark stains on the monkish page of history; these I have always striven to forget, or to remember them only when I thought experience might profit by them; for they offer a terrible lesson of blood, tyranny and anguish. But this dark and gloomy side is the one which from our infancy has ever been before us; we learnt it when a child from our tutor; or at college, or at school; we learnt it in the pages of our best and purest writers; learnt that in those old days nought existed, but bloodshed, tyranny, and anguish; but we never thought once to gaze at the scene behind, and behold the workings of human charity and love; if we had, we should have found that the same passions, the same affections, and the same hopes and fears existed then as now, and our sympathies would have been won by learning that we were reading of brother men, fellow Christians, and fellow-companions in the Church of Christ. We have hitherto looked, when casting a backward glance at those long gone ages of inanimation, with the severity of a judge upon a criminal; but to understand him properly we must regard them with the tender compassion of a parent; for if our art, our science, and our philosophy exalts us far above them, is that a proof that there was nothing admirable, nothing that can call forth our love on that infant state, or in the annals of our civilization at its early growth? But let it not be thought that if I have striven to retrieve from the dust and gloom of antiquity, the remembrance of old things that are worthy; that I feel any love for the superstition with which we find them blended. There is much that is good connected with those times; talent even that is worth imitating, and art that we may be proud to learn, which is beginning after the elapse of centuries to arrest the attention of the ingenious, and the love of these, naturally revive with the discovery; but we need not fear in this resurrection of old things of other days, that the superstition and weakness of the middle ages; that the veneration for dry bones and saintly dust, can live again. I do not wish to make the past assume a superiority over the present; but I think a contemplation of mediæval art would often open a new avenue of thought and lead to many a pleasing and profitable discovery; I would too add the efforts of my feeble pen to elevate and ennoble the fond pursuit of my leisure hours. I would say one word to vindicate the lover of old musty writings, and the explorer of rude antiquities, from the charge of unprofitableness, and to protect him from the sneer of ridicule. For whilst some see in the dry studies of the antiquary a mere inquisitiveness after forgotten facts and worthless relics; I can see, nay, have felt, something morally elevating in the exercise of these inquiries. It is not the mere fact which may sometimes be gained by rubbing off the parochial whitewash from ancient tablets, or the encrusted oxide from monumental brasses, that render the study of ancient relics so attractive; but it is the deductions which may sometimes be drawn from them. The light which they sometimes cast on obscure parts of history, and the fine touches of human sensibility, which their eulogies and monodies bespeak, that instruct or elevate the mind, and make the student's heart beat with holier and loftier feelings. But it is not my duty here to enter into the motives, the benefits, or the most profitable manner of studying antiquity; if it were, I would strive to show how much superior it is to become an original investigator, a practical antiquary, than a mere borrower from others. For the most delightful moments of the student's course is when he rambles personally among the ruins and remnants of long gone ages; sometimes painful are such sights, even deeply so; but never to a righteous mind are they unprofitable, much less exerting a narrowing tendency on the mind, or cramping the gushing of human feeling; for cold, indeed, must be the heart that can behold strong walls tottering to decay, and fretted vaults, mutilated and dismantled of their pristine beauty; that can behold the proud strongholds of baronial power and feudal tyranny, the victims of the lichen or creeping parasites of the ivy tribe; cold, I say, must be the heart that can see such things, and draw no lesson from them. INDEX. Adam de Botheby, Abbot of Peterborough, 145. Adam, Abbot of Evesham, 196. Adrian IV., Pope of Rome, Anecdote of, 259, 260. Ælfric, Archbishop of Canterbury, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73. Ælfride, King of Northumbria, 160, 163. Ælsinus, the Scribe, 232. Ailward's Gift of Books to Evesham Monastery, 195. Albans, Abbey of St.--_See_ St. Albans. Alcuin, Verses by, 33, 179, 180. Letters of, 98, 175, 181. His Bible, 177. Love of Books, 173, 176, 182. Aldred, the Glossator, 95. Aldwine, Bishop of Lindesfarne, 99. Alfred the Great, 151. Angell de Pisa, a Franciscan Friar, 291. Angraville.--_See_ Richard de Bury. Anselm, 77, 78. Antiquarii, 42, 43. Arno, Archbishop of Salzburgh, Library of, 183, 184. Armarian, Duties of the Monkish, 13. Aristotle; Translation used by the Schoolmen, 290. Ascelin, Prior of Dover, 90. Augustine, St., his copy of the Bible and other books, 79. Baldwin, Abbot of, St. Edmund's Bury, 242. Bale on the destruction of books at the Reformation, 8. Barkley's description of a Bibliomaniac, 301, 302, 303, 304. Basingstoke and his Greek books, 267. Bede the Venerable, 129, 162, 163, 170, 243. Bek, Anthony, Bishop of Durham, 104. Benedict, Abbot of Peterborough, and his books, 142, 143. Benedict, Biscop of Wearmouth, and his book tours, 157, 158. Bible among the Monks in the middle ages, 79, 89, 101, 104, 129, 144, 163, 177, 193, 194, 196, 207, 208, 211, 212, 233, 234, 237, 260, 261. Bible, Monkish care in copying the, 36, 177. Bible, errors in printed copies, 36. Bible, Translations of, 71, 72, 156, 185, 296, _note_. Bible, Illustrations of the scarcity of the, in the middle ages, 40, 41, 89, 148, 231. Bible, Students in the middle ages, 36, 71, 75, 88, 104, 144, 163, 168, 177, 184. Bilfrid the Illuminator, 95. Binding, costly, 54, 85, 93, 246, 247, 258, 261, 262, 263, 273. Blessing--Monkish blessing on Books, 25. Boniface the Saxon Missionary, 45, 164, 165, 166, 167. Books allowed the Monks for private reading, 20. Books-Destroyers, 6, 7, 8, 9, 195, 282. Books sent to Oxford by the Monks of Durham, 105. Book-Stalls, Antiquity of, 123. Booksellers in the middle ages, 46, 47. Britone the Librarian--his catalogue of books in Glastonbury Abbey, 208. Bruges, John de, a Monk of Coventry, and his books, 191. Cædmon, the Saxon Poet, 185. Canterbury Monastery, etc., 61. Canute, the Song of, 244. Care in transcribing, 33, 68. Carelepho, Bishop of Durham, 101. Carmelite, 287, 297. Carpenter, Bishop, built and endowed a library in Exeter Church, 194. Catalogues of Monastic libraries, 10, 14, 82, 83, 102, 129, 130, 142, 147, 179, 180, 190, 191, 208, 209, 210, 211, 219, 220, 237. Catalogue of the books of Guy Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, 283, 284, 285. Charles V. of France--his fine Library. Charlemagne's Bible, 177, his Library, 184. Chartey's, William, Catalogue of the Library of St. Mary's at Leicester, 148. Chiclely, Henry, Archbishop of Canterbury, 86. Cistercian Monks in England, 221. Classics among the Monks in the middle ages, 60, 84, 87, 101, 102, 116, 122, 129, 148, 190, 200, 208, 225, 226, 232, 233, 240. Classics, Monkish opinion of the, 23, 227. Classics found in Monasteries at the revival of learning, 58, 59, 60. Cluniac Monks in England, 221. Cobham, Eleanor Duchess of Gloucester, 277, 278. Cobham, Bishop, founded the Library at Oxford, 194. Collier on the destruction of books, 8. Converting Miracles, 166. Coventry Church, 191. Coventry Miracles, 299. Croyland Monastery, Library of, 135. Cuthbert's Gospels, 93, 129. Danes in England, 95, 138, 139, 140. Daniel, Bishop of Winchester, 168. De Bury.--_See_ Richard de Bury. De Estria and his Catalogue of Canterbury Library, 81. Depying Priory, Catalogue of the Library of, 234. Dover Library, 90. Dunstan, Saint, 64, 65. Eadburge--Abbess, transcribes books for Boniface, 169, 170. Eadfrid, Abbot of St. Albans, 249. Eadmer, Abbot of St. Albans, 251, 252. Ealdred, Abbot of St. Albans, 250. Eardulphus, or Eurdulphus, Bishop of Lindesfarne, 96. Ecgfrid and his Queen, 242. Edmunds Bury, St., 241. Edwine the Scribe, 79. Effects of Gospel Reading, 236. Effects of the Reformation on Monkish learning, 8. Egbert, Archbishop of York, 170, 173, his Library, 179, 180. Egebric, Abbot of Croyland, his gift of books to the Library, 137. Egfrith, Bishop of Lindesfarne, 93. Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, 277, 278. Ethelbert, 87. Etheldredæ founds the Monastery of Ely, 243. Ethelwold, Bishop of Winchester his love of Architecture, 229, 244, his fine Benedictional, 230. Ely Monastery, 243, 244. Extracts from the Account Books of, 245. Erventus the Illuminator, 147. Esseburn, Henry, 296. Evesham Monastery, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204. Fathers, Veneration for the, 38, 39. Frederic, Abbot of St. Albans, 253. Franciscan Library at Oxford, 294. Friars, Mendicant, 115, 116, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294. Geoffry de Gorham, Abbot of St. Albans, 255, 256. Gerbert, extract from a letter of, 45. Gift of books to Richard de Bury by the Monks of St. Albans, 121. Glanvill, Bishop of Rochester, 91. Glastonbury Abbey, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214. Gloucester Abbey, 218. Godeman, Abbot of Gloucester, 218. Godemann the Scribe, 231, 232. Godfrey, Abbot of Peterborough, 145, 146. Godinge the Librarian to Exeter Church, 193, 194. Godiva, Lady and her good deeds, 193, 194. Gospels, notices of among the Monks in the middle ages, 86, 89, 90, 91, 92, 129, 139, 140, 141, 142, 169, 196, 217, 221, 244, 245, 246, _note_, 255, 262. Graystane, Robert de, 105. Grostest, Robert, Bishop of Lincoln, 292, 293. Gundulph, Bishop of Rochester, 87. Guthlac, St., of Croyland, 135. Guy, Earl of Warwick, his gift of books to Bordesley Abbey, 283, 284, 285. Hebrew Manuscripts among the Monks, 238, 293, 294. Henry the Second of England, 223, 227. Henry de Estria and his Catalogue of Canterbury Library, 81. Henry, a Monk of Hyde Abbey, 231, 232. Hilda, 184. Holdernesse, Abbot of Peterborough, 145. Hoton, Prior of Durham, 105. Hubert Walter, Archbishop of Canterbury, 79. Hunting practised by the Monks and Churchmen, 224. Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, 275. His domestic troubles, 277, 278, 279. His death, 279. Lydgate's Verses upon, 280, 281. His Gift of Books to Oxford, 281, 282, 283. Illuminated MSS., 54. Ina, King of the West Saxons, 206. Jarrow, 157. John de Bruges of Coventry Church, 191. John, Prior of Evesham, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204. John of Taunton, a Monk of Glastonbury, his Catalogue of Books, 208. Kenulfus, Abbot of Peterborough, 141. Kinfernus, Archbishop of York, gift of the Gospels to Peterborough Monastery, 141. Kildwardly, Archbishop of Canterbury, 79. Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury, 75. Langley, Thomas, 131. Laws of the Universities over booksellers, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52. Lending books, system of among the Monks, 17, 20; by the booksellers, 52. Leoffin, Abbot of Ely, 244. Leofric, Abbot of St. Albans, 249. Leofric, Bishop of Exeter, 218; his Private Library, 219. Leofricke, Earl of Mercia, 192. Leofricus, Abbot of Peterborough, 141. Leicester, Abbey of St. Mary de la Pré, at, 148, 149. Libraries in the middle ages.--_See_ Catalogues. Libraries, how supported, 24, 25, 79, 198, 199. Librarii, or booksellers, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49. Lindesfarne, 93. Livy, the lost decades of, 214. Lul, Majestro, 168, 169. Lulla, Bishop of Coena, 171. Lydgate's Verses on Baldwin, Abbot of St. Edmunds Bury, 242; on Duke Humphrey, 280, 281. Malmsbury Monastery, 214. Malmsbury, William of, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219. Mannius, Abbot of Evesham, his skill in illuminating, 195. Manuscripts, Ancient, described, 78, 79, 186, 187. Manuscripts, Collections of, 5. Marleberg, Thomas of, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202. Medeshamstede, 139. Mendicant Friars, 115, 116, 287, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294. Michael de Wentmore, Abbot of St. Albans, and his _multis voluminibus_, 268. Milton and Cædmon compared, 188. Monachism, 29, 36, 307, 308, 309. Monastic training, 263, 264, 265. Monks, the preservers of books, 29. Nicholas, of St. Albans, 267, 292. Nicholas Brekspere, 259, 260. Nicholas Hereford, of Evesham, 203, 204. Nigel, Bishop of Ely, 244, 245, 246. Norman Conquest. Effect of the, 74. Northone, Abbot of St. Albans, 267. Nothelm, Archbishop of Canterbury, 64, 171. Offa, King, 4, 192, 247. Alcuin's Letter to, 175. Osbern, of Shepey, 91. Oswald, Bishop of Worcester, 24, 193. Paul or Paulinus, of St. Albans, 77, 253. Peter of Blois, Archdeacon of London, 47, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228. Peter, Abbot of Gloucester, 218. Peterborough Monastery, 138. Library, 147, 148. Petrarch, 107, 108, 109. Philobiblon, by Richard de Bury, 112. Prior John, of Evesham, 199. Puritans destroy the Library in Worcester Church, 194. Purple Manuscripts, 54. Pusar, Hugh de, Bishop of Durham, 103. Radolphus, Bishop of Rochester, 90. Ralph de Gobium, Abbot of St. Albans, 257, 258. Ramsey Abbey, 237. Hebrew MSS. at Ramsey, 239. Classics, 240. Raymond, Prior of St. Albans, 262, 263. Reading Abbey. Library of, 233. Reginald, Archdeacon of Salisbury, reproved for his love of falconry, 227. Reginald, of Evesham, 196. Richard de Albini, 255. Richard de Bury, 17, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 268. Richard de Stowe, 218. Richard of London, 145. Richard Wallingford, Abbot of St. Albans, 121. Richard Whiting, the last Abbot of Glastonbury, 213, 214. Ridiculous signs for books.--_See_ signs. Rievall Monastery, library of, 190, 191, 192. Robert de Gorham, Abbot of St. Albans, 257, 258. Robert, of Lyndeshye, 144. Robert, of Sutton, 145. Roger de Northone, 267. Roger de Thoris, Archdeacon of Exeter. Gift of books to the Friars at Exeter, 294, 295. Rhypum Monastery; gift of books to, 163. Scarcity of Parchment, 56, 57, 245, 246. Scholastic Philosophy, 289. Scribes, Monkish, 44. Scriptoria, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 198, 199, 253, 254. Sellinge, William, Prior of Canterbury, 86. Signs for books used by the Monks, 22, 23. Simon, Abbot of St. Albans, 260. St. Alban's Abbey, 120, 121, 247, _et seq._ St. Joseph, of Arimathea, 206. St. Mary's, at Coventry, 191, 192. St. Mary's de la Pré, at Leicester. Library of, 149. Stylus or pen, 154. Tatwine, Archbishop of Canterbury, 63. Taunton, John of, 208. Taunton, William of, 211. Theodore of Tarsus, Archbishop of Canterbury, 62. Thomas de la Mare, Abbot of St. Albans, 268. Thomas of Marleberg, Prior of Evesham, 197. Trompington, William de, Abbot of St. Albans, 265, 266. Tully's de Republica, 86. Valerius Maximus, Duke Humphrey's copy of, 282. Value of books in the middle ages, 54, 203, 204, 245, 273, 282, 283, 295. Verses written in books by Whethamstede, 274. Verulam, ruins of, excavated by Eadmer, of St. Albans, 250. Waleran, Bishop of Rochester, 91. Walter, Bishop of Rochester, 91. Walter, Bishop of Winchester, fond of hunting, 224, 225. Walter, of Evesham, 196. Walter, of St. Edmunds Bury, 145. Walter, Prior of St. Swithin, 231. Wearmouth, Monastery of, 157. Wentmore, Abbot of St. Albans, 268. Whethamstede, Abbot of St. Albans, 268, 269; his works, 272; gift of books to Gloucester college, 274. Whitby Abbey, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189. Wilfrid, 162, 163, 243. Willigod, Abbot of St. Albans, 248. William, of Wodeforde, 145. Winchester, famous for his Scribes, 168, 229, 230, 231, 232. Worcester, Church of, 192. Wulstan, Archbishop of York, 147. York Cathedral Library, 179, 180. Transcriber's Notes 1. Footnotes 293, 386 are not anchored in the page image. A best guess has been made as to their anchor point. 2. Refer to the image for the black letter poems as the yogh/ezh & thorn/h characters are difficult to distinguish. Other internet sources show vastly different interpretations for the text of 'A Plaie called Corpus Christi'. 3. Hyphenation has been left as printed - inconsistencies are: bookloving, book-loving booklover, book-lover bookworms, book-worms goodwill, good-will halfpenny, half-penny protomartyr, proto-martyr reread, re-read 4. Punctuation, particularly in footnotes has been standardised. 5. Spelling inconsistencies between proper names in the text and index entries have been standardised. The original spelling has been noted. Inconsistencies in the spelling of proper names within the text have been left as printed. 6. Numerous quotation marks have been added to the text. Please see the HTML version for details of where they have been added. 7. Other corrections which have been made are: Footnote 21, "gubernnatione" changed to "gubernatione" Page 86, "Chicleley" changed to "Chiclely" Page 91, "Shebey" changed to "Shepey" Footnote 134, "Catherbury" changed to "Canterbury" Page 113, "biblomaniac" changed to "bibliomaniac" Page 138, "Madeshamsted" changed to "Medeshamstede" Page 152, "descrimination" changed to "discrimination" Page 218, "Godemon" changed to "Godeman" Footnote 367, "Alward" changed to "Ailward" Page 257, "Gebium" changed to "Gobium" Page 312, "mediævel" changed to "mediæval" Page 315, "Salzburg" changed to "Salzburgh" Page 317, "Ecfrid" changed to "Ecgfrid" Page 319, "Kernulfus" changed to "Kenulfus" Page 319, "Leofin" changed to "Leoffin" Page 319, 322, "Pre" changed to "Pré" Page 320, "Marlebergh" changed to "Marleberg" Page 321, "Ryphum" changed to "Rhypum" Page 321, "Sellynge" changed to "Sellinge" Page 322, "Tatwyne" changed to "Tatwine" Page 322, "Tharsus" changed to "Tarsus" Page 322, "Wodeford" changed to "Wodeforde" 
30419	----	[Illustration] The Book-Lover's Library. Edited by Henry B. Wheatley, F.S.A. HOW TO FORM A LIBRARY BY H.B. WHEATLEY, F.S.A. _SECOND EDITION._ NEW YORK A.C. ARMSTRONG & SON, BROADWAY. LONDON: ELLIOT STOCK. 1886 _PREFACE._ _It will be generally allowed that a handy guide to the formation of libraries is required, but it may be that the difficulty of doing justice to so large a subject has prevented those who felt the want from attempting to fill it. I hope therefore that it will not be considered that I have shown temerity by stepping into the vacant place. I cannot hope to have done full justice to so important a theme in the small space at my disposal, but I think I can say that this little volume contains much information which the librarian and the book lover require and cannot easily obtain elsewhere. They are probably acquainted with most of this information, but the memory will fail us at times and it is then convenient to have a record at hand._ _A book of this character is peculiarly open to criticism, but I hope the critics will give me credit for knowing more than I have set down. In making a list of books of reference, I have had to make a selection, and works have been before me that I have decided to omit, although some would think them as important as many of those I have included._ _I need not extend this preface with any lengthy explanation of the objects of the book, as these are stated in the Introduction, but before concluding I may perhaps be allowed to allude to one personal circumstance. I had hoped to dedicate this first volume of the Book Lover's Library to HENRY BRADSHAW, one of the most original and most learned bibliographers that ever lived, but before it was finished the spirit of that great man had passed away to the inexpressible grief of all who knew him. It is with no desire to shield myself under the shelter of a great name, but with a reverent wish to express my own sense of our irreparable loss that I dedicate this book (though all unworthy of the honour) to his memory._ CONTENTS. PAGE INTRODUCTION 1 CHAPTER I. HOW MEN HAVE FORMED LIBRARIES 23 II. HOW TO BUY 57 III. PUBLIC LIBRARIES 73 IV. PRIVATE LIBRARIES 89 V. GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHIES 141 VI. SPECIAL BIBLIOGRAPHIES 160 VII. PUBLISHING SOCIETIES 184 VIII. CHILD'S LIBRARY 217 IX. ONE HUNDRED BOOKS 227 HOW TO FORM A LIBRARY. INTRODUCTION. Although there can be little difference of opinion among book lovers as to the need of a Handbook which shall answer satisfactorily the question--"How to Form a Library"--it does not follow that there will be a like agreement as to the best shape in which to put the answer. On the one side a string of generalities can be of no use to any one, and on the other a too great particularity of instruction may be resented by those who only require hints on a few points, and feel that they know their own business better than any author can tell them. One of the most important attempts to direct the would-be founder of a Library in his way was made as long ago as 1824 by Dr. Dibdin, and the result was entitled _The Library Companion_.[1] The book could never have been a safe guide, and now it is hopelessly out of date. Tastes change, and many books upon the necessity of possessing which Dibdin enlarges are now little valued. Dr. Hill Burton writes of this book as follows in his _Book-Hunter_: "This, it will be observed, is not intended as a manual of rare or curious, or in any way peculiar books, but as the instruction of a Nestor on the best books for study and use in all departments of literature. Yet one will look in vain there for such names as Montaigne, Shaftesbury, Benjamin Franklin, D'Alembert, Turgot, Adam Smith, Malebranche, Lessing, Goethe, Schiller, Fénélon, Burke, Kant, Richter, Spinoza, Flechier, and many others. Characteristically enough, if you turn up Rousseau in the index, you will find Jean Baptiste, but not Jean Jacques. You will search in vain for Dr. Thomas Reid the metaphysician, but will readily find Isaac Reed the editor. If you look for Molinæus, or Du Moulin, it is not there, but alphabetical vicinity gives you the good fortune to become acquainted with "Moule, Mr., his _Bibliotheca Heraldica_." The name of Hooker will be found, not to guide the reader to the _Ecclesiastical Polity_, but to Dr. Jackson Hooker's _Tour in Iceland_. Lastly, if any one shall search for Hartley _on Man_, he will find in the place it might occupy, or has reference to, the editorial services of 'Hazlewood, Mr. Joseph.'" Although this criticism is to a great extent true, it does not do justice to Dibdin's book, which contains much interesting and valuable matter, for if the _Library Companion_ is used not as a Guide to be followed, but as a book for reference, it will be found of considerable use. William Goodhugh's _English Gentleman's Library Manual, or a Guide to the Formation of a Library of Select Literature_, was published in 1827. It contains classified lists of library books, but these are not now of much value, except for the notes which accompany the titles, and make this work eminently readable. There are some literary anecdotes not to be found elsewhere. A most valuable work of reference is Mr. Edward Edwards's Report on the formation of the Manchester Free Library, which was printed in 1851. It is entitled, "_Librarian's First Report to the Books Sub-Committee on the Formation of the Library, June 30, 1851, with Lists of Books suggested for purchase_." The Lists are arranged in the following order:-- 1. Works--collective and miscellaneous--of Standard British authors; with a selection of those of the Standard authors of America. 2. Works relative to the History, Topography, and Biography of the United Kingdom, and of the United States of America. 3. Works relative to Political Economy, Finance, Trade, Commerce, Agriculture, Mining, Manufactures, Inland Communication, and Public Works. 4. Works relating to Physics, Mathematics, Mechanics, Practical Engineering, Arts, and Trades, etc. 5. Voyages and Travels. 6. Works on Zoology, Botany, Mineralogy, and Geology. 7. Periodical Publications and Transactions of Learned Societies (not included in Lists 2, 3, or 6), Collections, Encyclopædias, Gazetteers, Atlases, Dictionaries, Bibliographies, Indexes, etc. These draft lists include 4582 distinct works, extending to about 12,438 volumes, including pamphlets, but exclusive of 553 Parliamentary Papers and Reports, or _Blue Books_. Such a practically useful collection of lists of books will not easily be found elsewhere. Mr. Edwards gives some rules for the formation of Libraries in the second volume of his _Memoirs of Libraries_ (p. 629), where he writes, "No task is more likely to strip a man of self-conceit than that of having to frame, and to carry out in detail a plan for the formation of a large Library. When he has once got beyond those departments of knowledge in which his own pursuits and tastes have specially interested him, the duty becomes a difficult one, and the certainty, that with his best efforts, it will be very imperfectly performed is embarrassing and painful. If, on the other hand, the task be imposed upon a 'Committee,' there ensues almost the certainty that its execution will depend at least as much on chance as on plan: that responsibility will be so attenuated as to pass off in vapour; and that the collection so brought together will consist of parts bearing but a chaotic sort of relation to the whole." Mr. Henry Stevens printed in 1853 his pretty little book entitled _Catalogue of my English Library_, which contains a very useful selection of Standard books. In his Introduction the author writes, "It was my intention in the outset not to exceed 4000 volumes, but little by little the list has increased to 5751 volumes. I have been considerably puzzled to know what titles to strike out in my next impression, being well aware that what is trash to one person is by no means such to another; also that many books of more merit than those admitted have been omitted. You may not think it difficult to strike out twenty authors, and to add twenty better ones in their place, but let me relate to you a parable. I requested twenty men, whose opinions on the Literary Exchange are as good as those of the Barings or the Rothschilds on the Royal, each to expunge twenty authors and to insert twenty others of better standing in their places, promising to exclude in my next impression any author who should receive more than five votes. The result was, as may be supposed, not a single expulsion or addition." In 1855 Mons. Hector Bossange produced a companion volume, entitled _Ma Bibliothèque Française_. It contains a select list of about 7000 volumes, and is completed with Indexes of Subjects, Authors, and Persons. For helpful Bibliographical Guides we often have to look to the United States, and we do not look in vain. A most useful Handbook, entitled _The Best Reading_, was published in 1872 by George P. Putman, and the work edited by F.B. Perkins is now in its fourth edition.[2] The books are arranged in an alphabet of subjects, and the titles are short, usually being well within a single line. A very useful system of appraisement of the value of the books is adopted. Thus: _a_, means that the book so marked is considered _the_ book, or as good as any, _at a moderate cost_; _b_ means, in like manner, the best of the more elaborate or costly books on the subject. In the department of FICTION, a more precise classification has been attempted, in which a general idea of the relative importance of the _authors_ is indicated by the use of the letters _a_, _b_, and _c_, and of the relative value of their several works by the asterisks * and **." Having noted a few of the Guides which are now at hand for the use of the founders of a library, we may be allowed to go back somewhat in time, and consider how our predecessors treated this same subject, and we can then conclude the present Introduction with a consideration of the less ambitious attempts to instruct the book collector which may be found in papers and articles. One of the earliest works on the formation of a library was written by Bishop Cardona, and published at Tarragona in 1587, in a thin volume entitled _De regia S. Laurentii Bibliothecâ. De Pontificia Vaticana_ [etc.]. Justus Lipsius wrote his _De Bibliothecis Syntagma_ at the end of the sixteenth century, and next in importance we come to Gabriel Naudé, who published one of the most famous of bibliographical essays. The first edition was published at Paris in 1627, and the second edition in 1644. This was reprinted in Paris by J. Liseux in 1876--"_Advis pour dresser une Bibliothèque, présenté à Monseigneur le Président de Mesme_, par G. Naudé P. Paris, chez François Farga, 1627." This essay was translated by John Evelyn, and dedicated to Lord Chancellor Clarendon. "_Instructions concerning erecting of a Library_; Presented to My Lord the President De Mesme. By Gabriel Naudeus P., and now interpreted by Jo. Evelyn, Esquire, London, 1661." Naudé enlarges on the value of Catalogues, and recommends the book-buyer to make known his desires, so that others may help him in the search, or supply his wants. He specially mentions two modes of forming a library; one is to buy libraries entire, and the other is to hunt at book-stalls. He advised the book-buyer not to spend too much upon bindings. Naudé appears to have been a born librarian, for at the early age of twenty the President De Mesme appointed him to take charge of his library. He left his employer in 1626, in order to finish his medical studies. Cardinal Bagni took him to Rome, and when Bagni died, Naudé became librarian to Cardinal Barberini. Richelieu recalled him to Paris in 1642, to act as his librarian, but the Minister dying soon afterwards, Naudé took the same office under Mazarin. During the troubles of the Fronde, the librarian had the mortification of seeing the library which he had collected dispersed; and in consequence he accepted the offer of Queen Christina, to become her librarian at Stockholm. Naudé was not happy abroad, and when Mazarin appealed to him to reform his scattered library, he returned at once, but died on the journey home at Abbeville, July 29, 1653. The Mazarin Library consisted of more than 40,000 volumes, arranged in seven rooms filled from top to bottom. It was rich in all classes, but more particularly in Law and Physic. Naudé described it with enthusiasm as "the most beautiful and best furnished of any library now in the world, or that is likely (if affection does not much deceive me) ever to be hereafter." Such should be a library in the formation of which the Kings and Princes and Ambassadors of Europe were all helpers. Naudé in another place called it "the work of my hands and the miracle of my life." Great therefore was his dejection when the library was dispersed. Of this he said, "Beleeve, if you please, that the ruine of this Library will be more carefully marked in all Histories and Calendars, than the taking and sacking of Constantinople." Naudé's letter on the destruction of the Mazarin Library was published in London in 1652, and the pamphlet was reprinted in the _Harleian Miscellany_. "_News from France, or a Description of the Library of Cardinall Mazarini, before it was utterly ruined._ Sent in a letter from G. Naudæus, Keeper of the Publick Library. London, Printed for Timothy Garthwait, 1652." 4to. 4 leaves. In 1650 was published at London, by Samuel Hartlib, a little book entitled, "_The Reformed Librarie Keeper, with a Supplement to the Reformed School, as Subordinate to Colleges in Universities._ By John Durie. London, William Du-Gard, 1650."[3] John Durie's ideas on the educational value of Libraries and the high function of the Librarian are similar to those enunciated by Carlyle, when he wrote, "The true University of these days is a Collection of Books." Of this point, as elaborated in the proposal to establish Professorships of Bibliography, we shall have something more to say further on. It is always interesting to see the views of great men exemplified in the selection of books for a Library, and we may with advantage study the lists prepared by George III. and Dr. Johnson. The King was a collector of the first rank, as is evidenced by his fine library, now in the British Museum, and he knew his books well. When he was about to visit Weymouth, he wrote to his bookseller for the following books to be supplied to him to form a closet library at that watering place. The list was written from memory, and it was printed by Dibdin in his _Library Companion_, from the original document in the King's own handwriting: The Holy Bible. 2 vols. 8vo. Cambridge. New Whole Duty of Man. 8vo. The Annual Register. 25 vols. 8vo. The History of England, by Rapin. 21 vols. 8vo. 1757. Elémens de l'Histoire de France, par Millot. 3 vols. 12mo. 1770. Siècle de Louis XIV., par Voltaire, 12mo. Siècle de Louis XV., par Voltaire, 12mo. Commentaries on the Laws of England, by Sir William Blackstone. 4 vols. 8vo. Newest Edition. The Justice of the Peace and Parish Officer, by R. Burn. 4 vols. 8vo. An Abridgement of Samuel Johnson's Dictionary. 2 vols. 8vo. Dictionnaire François et Anglois, par M.A. Boyer. 8vo. The Works of the English Poets, by Sam. Johnson. 68 vols. 12mo. A Collection of Poems, by Dodsley, Pearch, and Mendez. 11 vols. 12mo. A Select Collection of Poems, by J. Nichols. 8 vols. 12mo. Shakespeare's Plays, by Steevens. OEuvres de Destouches. 5 vols. 12mo. The Works of Sir William Temple. 4 vols. 8vo. The Works of Jonathan Swift. 24 vols. 12mo. Dr. Johnson recommended the following list of books to the Rev. Mr. Astle, of Ashbourne, Derbyshire, as a good working collection:-- Rollin's Ancient History. Universal History (Ancient). Puffendorf's Introduction to History. Vertot's History of the Knights of Malta. Vertot's Revolutions of Portugal. Vertot's Revolutions of Sweden. Carte's History of England. Present State of England. Geographical Grammar. Prideaux's Connection. Nelson's Feasts and Fasts. Duty of Man. Gentleman's Religion. Clarendon's History. Watts's Improvement of the Mind. Watts's Logick. Nature Displayed. Lowth's English Grammar. Blackwall on the Classicks. Sherlock's Sermons. Burnet's Life of Hale. Dupin's History of the Church. Shuckford's Connection. Law's Serious Call. Walton's Complete Angler. Sandys's Travels. Sprat's History of the Royal Society. England's Gazetteer. Goldsmith's Roman History. Some Commentaries on the Bible. It is curious to notice in both these lists how many of the books are now quite superseded. In another place Boswell tells us what were Johnson's views on book collecting. "When I mentioned that I had seen in the King's Library sixty-three editions of my favourite _Thomas à Kempis_, amongst which it was in eight languages, Latin, German, French, Italian, Spanish, English, Arabick, and Armenian, he said he thought it unnecessary to collect many editions of a book, which were all the same, except as to the paper and print; he would have the original, and all the translations, and all the editions which had any variations in the text. He approved of the famous collection of editions of Horace by Douglas, mentioned by Pope, who is said to have had a closet filled with them; and he said every man should try to collect one book in that manner, and present it to a Publick Library." Dr. Johnson's notion as to the collection of editions which are alike except in the point of paper is scarcely sound, but it has been held by a librarian of the present day, as I know to my cost. On one occasion I was anxious to see several copies of the first folio of Shakespeare (1623), and I visited a certain library which possessed more than one. The librarian expressed the opinion that one was quite sufficient for me to see, as "they were all alike." The possessor of a Private Library can act as a _censor morum_ and keep out of his collection any books which offend against good morals, but this _role_ is one which is unfit for the librarian of a Public Library. He may put difficulties in the way of the ordinary reader seeing such books, but nevertheless they should be in his library for the use of the student. A most amusing instance of misapplied zeal occurred at the Advocates' Library on the 27th June, 1754. The Minutes tell the tale in a way that speaks for itself and requires no comment. "Mr. James Burnet [afterwards Lord Monboddo], and Sir David Dalrymple [afterwards Lord Hailes], Curators of the Library, having gone through some accounts of books lately bought, and finding therein the three following French books: _Les Contes de La Fontaine_, _L'Histoire Amoureuse des Gaules_ and _L'Ecumoire_, they ordain that the said books be struck out of the Catalogue of the Library, and removed from the shelves, as indecent books, unworthy of a place in a learned Library." At a Conference of Representatives of Institutions in Union with the Society of Arts held in July, 1855, the question of the compilation of a Catalogue of Books fitted for the Libraries of Institutions was raised, and shortly afterwards was published, under the sanction of the Council, "_A Handbook of Mechanics' Institutions, with Priced Catalogue of Books suitable for Libraries, and Periodicals for Reading Rooms_, by W.H.J. Traice." A second edition of this book was published in 1863. The list, however, is not now of much use, as many of the books have been superseded. Theology and Politics are not included in the classification. In 1868 Mr. Mullins read a paper before a Meeting of the Social Science Association at Birmingham, on the management of Free Libraries, and, in its reprinted form, this has become a Handbook on the subject: "_Free Libraries and News-rooms, their Formation and Management._ By J.D. Mullins, Chief Librarian, Birmingham Free Libraries. Third edition. London, Sotheran and Co., 1879." An appendix contains copies of the Free Libraries Acts and Amendments, and a "Short List of Books for a Free Lending Library, ranging in price from 1_s._ to 7_s._ 6_d._ per volume." Mr. Axon read a paper on the Formation of Small Libraries intended for the Co-Operative Congress in 1869, which was reprinted as a pamphlet of eight pages: "_Hints on the Formation of Small Libraries intended for Public Use._ By Wm. E.A. Axon. London, N. Trübner and Co." Mr. A.R. Spofford has given a valuable list of books and articles in periodicals, on the subject of Libraries in chapter 36 (Library Bibliography), of the _Report on Public Libraries in the U.S._ (1876). The volume of _Transactions and Proceedings of the Conference of Librarians_, London, 1877, contains two papers on the Selection of Books, one by Mr. Robert Harrison, Librarian of the London Library, and the other by the late Mr. James M. Anderson, Assistant Librarian of the University of St. Andrews. Mr. Harrison gives the following as the three guiding principles of selection in forming a library: 1. Policy; 2. Utility; 3. Special or Local Appropriateness; and he deals with each successively. Mr. Anderson writes that "the selection of books should invariably be made (1) in relation to the library itself, and (2) in relation to those using it." We have chiefly to do with the formation of libraries, and therefore the use made of them when they are formed cannot well be enlarged upon here, but a passing note may be made on the proposal which has been much discussed of late years, viz. that for Professorships of Books and Reading. The United States Report on Public Libraries contains a chapter on this subject by F.B. Perkins and William Matthews (pp. 230-251), and Mr. Axon also contributed a paper at the First Annual Meeting of the Library Association. The value of such chairs, if well filled, is self-evident, for it takes a man a long time (without teaching) to learn how best to use books, but very special men would be required as Professors. America has done much to show what the duties of such a Professor should be, and Harvard College is specially fortunate in possessing an officer in Mr. Justin Winsor who is both a model librarian and a practical teacher of the art of how best to use the books under his charge. FOOTNOTES: [1] "_The Library Companion, or the Young Man's Guide and the Old Man's Comfort in the Choice of a Library._ By the Rev. T.F. Dibdin, F.R.S., A.S., London, 1824." [2] _The Best Reading_: Hints on the Selection of Books; on the Formation of Libraries, Public and Private; on Courses of Reading, etc., with a Classified Bibliography for every reference. Fourth revised and enlarged edition, continued to August, 1876, with the addition of Select Lists of the best French, German, Spanish, and Italian Literature. Edited by Frederic Beecher Perkins; New York, G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1881. Second Series, 1876 to 1882, by Lynds E. Jones. [3] Dr. Richard Garnett read an interesting paper on this book under the title of _Librarianship in the Seventeenth Century_, before the Library Association. See _Library Chronicle_, vol. i. p. 1 (1884). CHAPTER I. HOW MEN HAVE FORMED LIBRARIES. As long as books have existed there have been book collectors. It is easy now to collect, for books of interest are to be found on all sides; but in old times this was not so, and we must therefore admire the more those men who formed their libraries under the greatest difficulties. In a book devoted to the formation of libraries it seems but fair to devote some space to doing honour to those who have formed libraries, and perhaps some practical lessons may be learned from a few historical facts. Englishmen may well be proud of Richard Aungerville de Bury, a man occupying a busy and exalted station, who not only collected books with ardour united with judgment, but has left for the benefit of later ages a manual which specially endears his memory to all book lovers. He collected books, and often took them in place of corn for tithes and dues, but he also produced books, for he kept copyists in his house. Many of these books were carefully preserved in his palace at Durham, but it is also pleasant to think of some of them being carefully preserved in the noble mansion belonging to his see which stood by the side of the Thames, and on the site of the present Adelphi. Petrarch was a book-loving poet, and he is said to have met the book-loving ecclesiastic Richard de Bury at Rome. He gave his library to the Church of St. Mark at Venice in 1362; but the guardians allowed the books to decay, and few were rescued. Boccaccio bequeathed his library to the Augustinians at Florence, but one cannot imagine the books of the accomplished author of the _Decameron_ as very well suited for the needs of a religious society, and it was probably weeded before Boccaccio's death. The remains of the library are still shown to visitors in the Laurentian Library, the famous building due to the genius of Michael Angelo. Cardinal John Bessarion gave his fine collection (which included about 600 Greek MSS.) to St. Mark's in 1468, and in the letter to the Doge which accompanied his gift, he tells some interesting particulars of his early life as a collector. He writes, "From my youth I have bestowed my pains and exertion in the collection of books on various sciences. In former days I copied many with my own hands, and I have employed on the purchase of others such small means as a frugal and thrifty life permitted me to devote to the purpose." The Rev. Joseph Hunter printed in 1831 a valuable Catalogue of the Library of the Priory of Bretton in Yorkshire, and added to it some notices of the Libraries belonging to other Religious Houses, in which he gives us a good idea of the contents of these libraries. He writes, "On comparing the Bretton Catalogue with that of other religious communities, we find the libraries of the English monasteries composed of very similar materials. They consisted of-- 1. The Scriptures; and these always in an English or the Latin version. A Greek or Hebrew Manuscript of the Scriptures is not found in Leland's notes, or, I believe, in any of the catalogues. In Wetstein's Catalogue of MSS. of the New Testament, only one (Codex 59) is traced into the hands of an English community of religious. 2. The Commentators. 3. The Fathers. 4. Services and Rituals of the Church. 5. Writers in the Theological Controversies of the Middle Ages. 6. Moral and Devotional Writings. 7. Canon Law. 8. The Schoolmen. 9. Grammatical Writers. 10. Writers in Mathematics and Physics. 11. Medical Writers. 12. Collections of Epistles. 13. The Middle Age Poets and Romance-Writers. 14. The Latin Classics. 15. The Chronicles. 16. The Historical Writings of doubtful authority, commonly called Legends. Most of the manuscripts which composed the monastic libraries were destroyed at the Reformation." Humphry Plantagenet Duke of Gloucester, whose fame has been so lasting as the 'good Duke Humphry,' was also a book-collector of renown; but most of the old libraries we read about have left but little record of their existence: thus the Common Library at Guildhall, founded by Dick Whittington in 1420, and added to by John Carpenter, the Town Clerk of London, has been entirely destroyed, the books having, in the first instance, been carried away by Edward Seymour Duke of Somerset. Although, as we have seen from Mr. Hunter's remarks, there was a considerable amount of variety in the subjects of these manuscript collections, we must still bear in mind that in a large number of instances the contents of the libraries consisted of little more than Breviaries and Service Books. It has been pointed out that this fact is illustrated by the union of the offices of Precentor and Armarius in one person, who had charge of the Library (Armarium) and its great feeder, the Writing-room (Scriptorium), as well as the duty of leading the singing in the church. Many lists of old libraries have been preserved, and these have been printed in various bibliographical works, thus giving us a valuable insight into the reading of our forefathers. When we come to consider libraries of printed books in place of manuscripts, we naturally find a greater variety of subjects collected by the famous men who have formed collections. Montaigne, the friend of all literary men, could not have been the man we know him to have been if he had not lived among his books. Like many a later book-lover, he decorated his library with mottoes, and burnt-in his inscriptions letter by letter with his own hands. Grotius made his love of books do him a special service, for he escaped from prison in a box which went backwards and forwards with an exchange of books for his entertainment and instruction. Grolier and De Thou stand so pre-eminent among book collectors, and from the beauty of the copies they possessed the relics of their libraries are so frequently seen, that it seems merely necessary here to mention their names. But as Frenchmen may well boast of these men, so Englishmen can take pride in the possession of the living memory of Archbishop Parker, who enriched Cambridge, and of Sir Thomas Bodley, who made the Library at Oxford one of the chief glories of our land. Old Lists of Books are always of interest to us as telling what our forefathers cared to have about them, but it is seldom that a list is so tantalising as one described by Mr. Edward Edwards in his _Libraries and Founders of Libraries_. Anne of Denmark presented her son Charles with a splendid series of volumes, bound in crimson and purple velvet. Abraham van der Dort, who was keeper of Charles's cabinet, made an inventory of this cabinet; and having no notion of how to make a catalogue of books, he has managed to leave out all the information we wish for. The inventory is among the Harleian MSS. (4718), and the following are specimens of the entries:-- "Im'pris 19 books in Crimson velvet, whereof 18 are bound 4to. and y^e 19th in folio, adorn'd with some silver guilt plate, and y^e 2 claspes wanting. Given to y^e King by Queen Ann of famous memory. Item, more 15 books, 13 thereof being in long 4to. and y^e 2 lesser cover'd over also with purple velvet. Given also to y^e King by y^e said Queen Ann." Most of the famous private libraries of days gone by have left little record of their existence, but Evelyn's collection is still carefully preserved at Wotton, the house of the Diarist's later years, and Pepys's books continue at Cambridge in the cases he had made for them, and in the order he fixed for them. In a long letter to Pepys, dated from Sayes Court, 12th August, 1689, Evelyn gives an account of such private libraries as he knew of in England, and in London more particularly. He first mentions Lord Chancellor Clarendon, to whom he dedicated his translation of Naudé's Advice, and who "furnished a very ample library." Evelyn observes that England was peculiarly defective in good libraries: "Paris alone, I am persuaded, being able to show more than all the three nations of Great Britain." He describes Dr. Stillingfleet's, at Twickenham, as the very best library.[4] He did not think much either of the Earl of Bristol's or of Sir Kenelm Digby's books, but he says Lord Maitland's "was certainly the noblest, most substantial and accomplished library that ever passed under the spear." In a useful little volume published at London in 1739, and entitled, _A Critical and Historical Account of all the Celebrated Libraries in Foreign Countries, as well ancient as modern_, which is stated to be written by "a Gentleman of the Temple," are some "General Reflections upon the Choice of Books and the Method of furnishing Libraries and Cabinets." As these reflections are interesting in themselves, and curious as the views of a writer of the middle of the eighteenth century on this important subject, I will transfer them bodily to these pages. "Nothing can be more laudable than forming Libraries, when the founders have no other view than to improve themselves and men of letters: but it will be necessary, in the first place, to give some directions, which will be of great importance towards effecting the design, as well with regard to the choice of books as the manner of placing to advantage: nor is it sufficient in this case, to be learned, since he who would have a collection worthy of the name of a library must of all things have a thorough knowledge of books, that he may distinguish such as are valuable from the trifling. He must likewise understand the price of Books, otherwise he may purchase some at too high a rate, and undervalue others: all which requires no small judgment and experience. "Let us suppose, then, the founder possessed of all those qualifications, three things fall next under consideration. "First, the number of books; secondly, their quality; and, lastly, the order in which they ought to be ranged. "As to the quantity, regard must be had, as well to places as to persons; for should a man of moderate fortune propose to have a Library for his own use only, it would be imprudent in him to embarrass his affairs in order to effect it. Under such circumstances he must rather consider the usefulness than the number of books, for which we have the authority of Seneca, who tells us that a multitude of books is more burthensome than instructive to the understanding. "But if a private person has riches enough for founding a Library, as well for his own use as for the public, he ought to furnish it with the most useful volumes in all arts and sciences, and procure such as are scarcest and most valuable, from all parts, that the learned, of whom there are many classes, may instruct themselves in what may be useful to them, and may gratify their enquiries. But as the condition and abilities of such as would form Libraries are to be distinguished, so regard must likewise be had to places, for it is very difficult to procure, or collect books in some countries, without incredible expense; a design of that kind would be impracticable in America, Africa, and some parts of Asia; so that nothing can be determined as to the number of books, that depending entirely upon a variety of circumstances, and the means of procuring them, as has been observ'd before. "As to the second topic, special care must be taken in the choice of books, for upon that alone depends the value of a Library. We must not form a judgment of books either by their bulk or numbers, but by their intrinsic merit and usefulness. Alexander Severus's Library consisted of no more than four volumes, that is the works of Plato, Cicero, Virgil, and Horace. Melanchthon seems to have imitated that Prince, for his collection amounted to four books only, Plato, Pliny, Plutarch, and Ptolemy. "There is another necessary lesson for those who form designs of making libraries, that is, that they must disengage themselves from all prejudices with regard either to ancient or modern books, for such a wrong step often precipitates the judgment, without scrutiny or examination, as if truth and knowledge were confined to any particular times or places. The ancients and moderns should be placed in collections, indifferently, provided they have those characters we hinted before. "Let us now proceed to the third head, the manner of placing books in such order, as that they may be resorted to upon any emergency, without difficulty, otherwise they can produce but little advantage either to the owners or others. "The natural method of placing books and manuscripts is to range them in separate classes or apartments, according to the science, art, or subject, of which they treat. "Here it will be necessary to observe, that as several authors have treated of various subjects, it may be difficult to place them under any particular class; Plutarch, for instance, who was an historian, a political writer, and a philosopher. The most advisable method then is to range them under the head of Miscellaneous Authors, with proper references to each subject, but this will be more intelligible by an example. "Suppose, then, we would know the names of the celebrated Historians of the ancients; nothing more is necessary than to inspect the class under which the historians are placed, and so of other Faculties. By this management, one set of miscellaneous authors will be sufficient, and may be resorted to with as much ease and expedition as those who have confined themselves to one subject. In choice of books regard must be had to the edition, character, paper and binding. As to the price, it is difficult to give any positive directions; that of ordinary works is easily known, but as to such as are very scarce and curious, we can only observe that their price is as uncertain as that of medals and other monuments of antiquity, and often depends more on the caprice of the buyer than the intrinsic merit of the work, some piquing themselves upon the possession of things from no other consideration than their exorbitant price." Dr. Byrom's quaint library is still preserved at Manchester in its entirety. Bishop Moore's fine collection finds a resting place in the University Library at Cambridge, and the relics of the Library of Harley, Earl of Oxford, a mine of manuscript treasure, still remain one of the chief glories of the British Museum. How much cause for regret is there that the library itself, which Osborne bought and Johnson described, did not also find a settled home, instead of being dispersed over the land. It is greatly to the credit of the rich and busy man to spend his time and riches in the collection of a fine library, but still greater honour is due to the poor man who does not allow himself to be pulled down by his sordid surroundings. The once-famous small-coalman, Thomas Britton, furnishes a most remarkable instance of true greatness in a humble station, and one, moreover, which was fully recognized in his own day. He lived next door to St. John's Gate, Clerkenwell, and although he gained his living by selling coals from door to door, many persons of the highest station were in the habit of attending the musical meetings held at his house. He was an excellent chemist as well as a good musician, and Thomas Hearne tells us that he left behind him "a valuable collection of musick mostly pricked by himself, which was sold upon his death for near an hundred pounds," "a considerable collection of musical instruments which was sold for fourscore pounds," "not to mention the excellent collection of printed books that he also left behind him, both of chemistry and musick. Besides these books that he left, he had some years before his death (1714) sold by auction a noble collection of books, most of them in the Rosicrucian faculty (of which he was a great admirer), whereof there is a printed catalogue extant, as there is of those that were sold after his death, which catalogue I have by me (by the gift of my very good friend Mr. Bagford), and have often looked over with no small surprize and wonder, and particularly for the great number of MSS. in the before-mentioned faculties that are specified in it."[5] Dr. Johnson, although a great reader, was not a collector of books. He was forced to possess many volumes while he was compiling his Dictionary, but when that great labour was completed, he no longer felt the want of them. Goldsmith, on the other hand, died possessed of a considerable number of books which he required, or had at some time required, for his studies. "The Select Collection of Scarce, Curious, and Valuable Books, in English, Latin, Greek, French, Italian, and other Languages, late the Library of Dr. Goldsmith, deceased," was sold on Tuesday, the 12th of July, 1774, and the Catalogue will be found in the Appendix to Forster's Life. There were 30 lots in folio, 26 in quarto, and 106 in octavo and smaller sizes. Among the books of interest in this list are Chaucer's Works, 1602; Davenant's Works, 1673; Camoens, by Fanshawe, 1655; Cowley's Works, 1674; Shelton's Don Quixote; Raleigh's History of the World, 1614; Bulwer's Artificial Changeling, 1653; Verstegan's Antiquities, 1634; Hartlib's Legacie, 1651; Sir K. Digby on the Nature of Bodies, 1645; Warton's History of English Poetry, 1774; Encyclopédie, 25 vols., 1770; Fielding's Works, 12 vols., 1766; Bysshe's Art of Poetry; Hawkins's Origin of the English Drama, 3 vols., 1773; Percy's Reliques, 3 vols., Dublin, 1766; Sir William Temple's Works; and De Bure, Bibliographie Instructive. A catalogue such as this, made within a few weeks of the death of the owner, cannot but have great interest for us. The library could not have been a very choice one, for there is little notice of bindings and much mention of odd volumes. It was evidently a working collection, containing the works of the poets Goldsmith loved, and of the naturalists from whom he stole his knowledge. Gibbon was a true collector, who loved his books, and he must have needed them greatly, working as he did at Lausanne away from public libraries. After his death the library was purchased by 'Vathek' Beckford, but he kept it buried, and it was of no use to any one. Eventually it was sold by auction, a portion being bought for the Canton, and another portion going to America. There was little in the man Gibbon to be enthusiastic about, but it is impossible for any true book lover not to delight in the thoroughness of the author of one of the noblest books ever written. The fine old house where the _Decline and Fall_ was written and the noble library was stored still stands, and the traveller may stroll in the garden so beautifully described by Gibbon when he walked to the historical _berceau_ and felt that his herculean labour was completed. His heart must be preternaturally dull which does not beat quicker as he walks on that ground. The thought of a visit some years ago forms one of the most vivid of the author's pleasures of memory. Charles Burney, the Greek scholar, is said to have expended nearly £25,000 on his library, which consisted of more than 13,000 printed volumes and a fine collection of MSS. The library was purchased for the British Museum for the sum of £13,500. Charles Burney probably inherited his love of collecting from his father, for Dr. Burney possessed some twenty thousand volumes. These were rather an incumbrance to the Doctor, and when he moved to Chelsea Hospital, he was in some difficulty respecting them. Mrs. Chapone, when she heard of these troubles, proved herself no bibliophile, for she exclaimed, "Twenty thousand volumes! bless me! why, how can he so encumber himself? Why does he not burn half? for how much must be to spare that never can be worth his looking at from such a store! and can he want to keep them all?" The love of books will often form a tie of connection between very divergent characters, and in dealing with men who have formed libraries we can bring together the names of those who had but little sympathy with each other during life. George III. was a true book collector, and the magnificent library now preserved in the British Museum owes its origin to his own judgment and enthusiastic love for the pursuit. Louis XVI. cared but little for books until his troubles came thick upon him, and then he sought solace from their pages. During that life in the Temple we all know so well from the sad reading of its incidents, books were not denied to the persecuted royal family. There was a small library in the "little tower," and the king drew up a list of books to be supplied to him from the library at the Tuileries. The list included the works of Virgil, Horace, Ovid, and Terence; of Tacitus, Livy, Cæsar, Marcus Aurelius, Eutropius, Cornelius Nepos, Florus, Justin, Quintus Curtius, Sallust, Suetonius and Velleius Paterculus; the _Vies des Saints_, the _Fables de la Fontaine_, _Télèmaque_, and Rollin's _Traité des Etudes_.[6] The more we know of Napoleon, and anecdotes of him are continually being published in the ever-lengthening series of French memoirs, the less heroic appears his figure, but he could not have been entirely bad, for he truly loved books. He began life as an author, and would always have books about him. He complained if the printing was bad or the binding poor, and said, "I will have fine editions and handsome binding. I am rich enough for that."[7] Thus spoke the true bibliophile. Mr. Edwards has collected much interesting information respecting Napoleon and his libraries, and of his labours I here freely avail myself. Bourrienne affirms that the authors who chiefly attracted Napoleon in his school days were Polybius, Plutarch, and Arrian. "Shortly before he left France for Egypt, Napoleon drew up, with his own hand, the scheme of a travelling library, the charge of collecting which was given to John Baptist Say, the Economist. It comprised about three hundred and twenty volumes, more than half of which are historical, and nearly all, as it seems, in French. The ancient historians comprised in the list are Thucydides, Plutarch, Polybius, Arrian, Tacitus, Livy, and Justin. The poets are Homer, Virgil, Tasso, Ariosto, the _Télèmaque_ of Fénélon, the _Henriade_ of Voltaire, with Ossian and La Fontaine. Among the works of prose fiction are the English novelists in forty volumes, of course in translations, and the indispensable _Sorrows of Werter_, which, as he himself told Goethe, Napoleon had read through seven times prior to October, 1808. In this list the Bible, together with the _Koran_ and the _Vedas_, are whimsically, but significantly, entered under the heading Politics and Ethics (Politique et Morale).[8] Napoleon was not, however, satisfied with the camp libraries which were provided for him; the good editions were too bulky and the small editions too mean: so he arranged the plan of a library to be expressly printed for him in a thousand duodecimo volumes without margins, bound in thin covers and with loose backs. "In this new plan 'Religion' took its place as the first class. The Bible was to be there in its best translation, with a selection of the most important works of the Fathers of the Church, and a series of the best dissertations on those leading religious sects--their doctrines and their history--which have powerfully influenced the world. This section was limited to forty volumes. The Koran was to be included, together with a good book or two on mythology. One hundred and forty volumes were allotted to poetry. The epics were to embrace Homer, Lucan, Tasso, _Telemachus_, and the _Henriade_. In the dramatic portion Corneille and Racine were of course to be included, but of Corneille, said Napoleon, you shall print for me 'only what is vital' (ce qui est resté), and from Racine you shall omit '_Les Frères ennemis_, the _Alexandre_, and _Les Plaideurs_. Of Crébillon, he would have only _Rhadamiste_ and _Atrée et Thyeste_. Voltaire was to be subject to the same limitation as Corneille.'"[9] In prose fiction Napoleon specifies the _Nouvelle Héloise_ and Rousseau's _Confessions_, the masterpieces of Fielding, Richardson and Le Sage, and Voltaire's tales. Soon after this Napoleon proposed a much larger scheme for a camp library, in which history alone would occupy three thousand volumes. History was to be divided into these sections--I. Chronology and Universal History. II. Ancient History (_a._ by ancient writers, _b._ by modern writers). III. History of the Lower Empire (in like subdivisions). IV. History, both general and particular. V. The Modern History of the different States of Europe. The celebrated bibliographer Barbier drew up, according to the Emperor's orders, a detailed catalogue of the works which should form such a library. "He calculated that by employing a hundred and twenty compositors and twenty-five editors, the three thousand volumes could be produced, in satisfactory shape, and within six years, at a total cost of £163,200, supposing fifty copies of each book to be printed."[10] The printing was begun, but little was actually done, and in six years Napoleon was in St. Helena. In his last island home Napoleon had a library, and he read largely, often aloud, with good effect. It is an interesting fact that among Napoleon's papers were found some notes on Geography written when a boy, and these close with the words--"_Sainte-Hélène--petite ile_."[11] In recapitulating here the names of a few of the famous men who have formed libraries it will be necessary to divide them into two classes, 1, those whose fame arises from their habit of collecting, and 2, those authors in whose lives we are so much interested that the names of the books they possessed are welcomed by us as indications of their characters. What can be said of the libraries of the Duke of Roxburghe, Earl Spencer, Thomas Grenville, and Richard Heber that has not been said often before? Two of these have been dispersed over the world, and two remain, one the glory of a noble family, and the other of the nation, or perhaps it would be more proper to say both are the glory of the nation, for every Englishman must be proud that the Spencer Library still remains intact. Heber left behind him over 100,000 volumes, in eight houses, four in England and four on the Continent, and no record remains of this immense library but the volumes of the sale catalogues. Such wholesale collection appears to be allied to madness, but Heber was no selfish collector, and his practice was as liberal as Grolier's motto. His name is enshrined in lasting verse by Scott:-- "Thy volumes, open as thy heart, Delight, amusement, science, art, To every ear and eye impart; Yet who of all that thus employ them, Can like the owner's self enjoy them?-- But hark! I hear the distant drum: The day of Flodden Field is come-- Adieu, dear Heber! life and health, And store of literary wealth." --MARMION, _Introduction to the Sixth Canto_. The Duke of Sussex was a worthy successor of his father, George III., in the ranks of book-collectors, and his library is kept in memory by Pettigrew's fine catalogue. Douce and Malone the critics, and Gough the antiquary, left their libraries to the Bodleian, and thus many valuable books are available to students in that much-loved resort of his at Oxford. Anthony Morris Storer, who is said to have excelled in everything he set his heart on and hand to, collected a beautiful library, which he bequeathed to Eton College, where it still remains, a joy to look at from the elegance of the bindings. His friend Lord Carlisle wrote of him-- "Whether I Storer sing in hours of joy, When every look bespeaks the inward boy; Or when no more mirth wantons in his breast, And all the man in him appears confest; In mirth, in sadness, sing him how I will, Sense and good nature must attend him still." Jacob Bryant the antiquary left his library to King's College, Cambridge. At one time he intended to have followed Storer's example, and have left it to Eton College, but the Provost offended him, and he changed the object of his bequest. It is said that when he was discussing the matter, the Provost asked whether he would not arrange for the payment of the carriage of the books from his house to Eton. He thought this grasping, and King's gained the benefit of his change of mind. Among great authors two of the chief collectors were Scott and Southey. Scott's library still remains at Abbotsford, and no one who has ever entered that embodiment of the great man's soul can ever forget it. The library, with the entire contents of the house, were restored to Scott in 1830 by his trustees and creditors, "As the best means the creditors have of expressing their very high sense of his most honourable conduct, and in grateful acknowledgment of the unparalleled and most successful exertions he has made, and continues to make for them." The library is rich in the subjects which the great author loved, such as Demonology and Witchcraft. In a volume of a collection of Ballads and Chapbooks is this note written by Scott in 1810: "This little collection of stall tracts and ballads was formed by me, when a boy, from the baskets of the travelling pedlars. Until put into its present decent binding, it had such charms for the servants, that it was repeatedly, and with difficulty, recovered from their clutches. It contains most of the pieces that were popular about thirty years since, and I dare say many that could not now be procured for any price." It is odd to contrast the book-loving tastes of celebrated authors. Southey cared for his books, but Coleridge would cut the leaves of a book with a butter knife, and De Quincey's extraordinary treatment of books is well described by Mr. Burton in the _Book Hunter_. Charles Lamb's loving appreciation of his books is known to all readers of the delightful Elia. Southey collected more than 14,000 volumes, which sold in 1844 for nearly £3000. He began collecting as a boy, for his father had but few books. Mr. Edwards enumerates these as follows: The _Spectator_, three or four volumes of the _Oxford Magazine_, one volume of the _Freeholder's Magazine_, and one of the _Town and Country Magazine_, Pomfret's _Poems_, the _Death of Abel_, nine plays (including _Julius Cæsar_, _The Indian Queen_, and a translation of _Merope_), and a pamphlet.[12] Southey was probably one of the most representative of literary men. His feelings in his library are those of all book-lovers, although he could express these feelings in language which few of them have at command:-- My days among the dead are passed; Around me I behold, Where'er these casual eyes are cast, The mighty minds of old: My never-failing friends are they, With whom I converse day by day. With them I take delight in weal, And seek relief in woe; And while I understand and feel How much to them I owe, My cheeks have often been bedewed With tears of thoughtful gratitude. My thoughts are with the dead; with them I live in long-past years; Their virtues love, their faults condemn, Partake their hopes and fears, And from their lessons seek and find Instruction with a humble mind. My hopes are with the dead; anon My place with them will be And I with them shall travel on Through all futurity; Yet leaving here a name, I trust, That will not perish in the dust. Mr. Henry Stevens read a paper or rather delivered an address at the meeting of the Library Association held at Liverpool in 1883, containing his recollections of Mr. James Lenox, the great American book collector. I had the pleasure of listening to that address, but I have read it in its finished form with even greater delight. It is not often that he who pleases you as a speaker also pleases you as writer, but Mr. Stevens succeeds in both. If more bibliographers could write their reminiscences with the same spirit that he does, we should hear less of the dullness of bibliography. I strongly recommend my readers to take an early opportunity of perusing this paper in the Liverpool volume of the Transactions of the Library Association. Mr. Stevens, among his anecdotes of Mr. Lenox, records that he "often bought duplicates for immediate use, or to lend, rather than grope for the copies he knew to be in the stocks in some of his store rooms or chambers, notably Stirling's _Artists of Spain_, a high-priced book." This is a common trouble to large book collectors, who cannot find the books they know they possess. The late Mr. Crossley had his books stacked away in heaps, and he was often unable to lay his hands upon books of which he had several copies. FOOTNOTES: [4] Narcissus Marsh, Archbishop of Armagh, is said to have given £2500 for Bishop Stillingfleet's Library. [5] _Reliquiæ Hearnianæ_, by Bliss, 2nd edition, 1869, vol. ii. p. 14. [6] Edwards, _Libraries and Founders of Libraries_, p. 115. [7] Edwards, _Libraries and Founders_, p. 136. [8] _Correspondance de Napoleon I^er_, IV. pp. 37, 38, quoted by Edwards, _Libraries and Founders_, p. 130. [9] Edwards, _Libraries and Founders_, p. 133. [10] Edwards, _Libraries and Founders_, p. 135. [11] Edwards, _Libraries and Founders_, p. 142. [12] _Libraries and Founders of Libraries_, p. 95. CHAPTER II. HOW TO BUY. A discussion has arisen lately in bibliographical journals as to how best to supply libraries with their books, the main principle agreed upon being that it is the duty of the librarian to buy his books as cheaply as possible. Some of these views are stated by Mr. H.R. Tedder in a letter printed in the _Library Chronicle_ for July, 1884 (vol. i. p. 120). It appears that Professor Dziatzko contends that the books should always be bought as cheaply as possible, but that Dr. Julius Petzholdt holds the opinion that the chief object of the librarian should be to get his books as early as possible and not to wait until they can be had at second-hand. Mr. Tedder thinks that the two plans of rapidity of supply and cheapness of cost can in some respect be united. Of course there can be no difference of opinion in respect to the duty of the librarian to get as much for his money as he can, but there are other points which require to be considered besides those brought forward before a satisfactory answer to the question--How to Buy? can be obtained. There are three points which seem to have been very much overlooked in the discussion, which may be stated here. 1. Is the librarian's valuable time well occupied by looking after cheap copies of books? 2. Will not the proposed action on the part of librarians go far to abolish the intelligent second-hand bookseller in the same way as the new bookseller has been well-nigh abolished in consequence of large discounts? 3. Will not such action prevent the publication of excellent books on subjects little likely to be popular? 1. Most librarians find their time pretty well occupied by the ordinary duties of buying, arranging, cataloguing, and finding the books under their charge, and it will be generally allowed that the librarian's first duty is to be in his library, ready to attend to those who wish to consult him. Now the value of his time can be roughly estimated for this purpose in money, and the value of the time spent in doing work which could be as well or better done by a bookseller should fairly be added to the cost of the books. 2. It has hitherto been thought advisable to have one or more second-hand booksellers attached to an important library, from whom the librarian may naturally expect to obtain such books as he requires. Of course a man of knowledge and experience must be paid for the exercise of these qualities, but the price of books is so variable that it is quite possible that the bookseller, from his knowledge, may buy the required books cheaper than the librarian himself would pay for them. As far as it is possible to judge from the information given us respecting the collection of libraries, bookbuyers have little to complain of as to the price paid by them to such respectable booksellers as have acted as their agents. Perhaps too little stress has been laid upon that characteristic which is happily so common among honest men, viz. that the agent is as pleased to get wares cheap for a good customer as for himself. Mr. Tedder says in his letter, "For rarer books I still consider it safer and cheaper in the long run to cultivate business relations with one or more second-hand booksellers, and pay them for their knowledge and experience." But is this quite fair, and is it not likely that the rarer books will be supplied cheaper if the bookseller is allowed to pay himself partly out of the sale of the commoner books, which it is now proposed the librarian shall buy himself? My contention is that it is for the advantage of libraries that intelligent booksellers, ready to place their knowledge at the service of the librarians, should exist, and it is unwise and uneconomic to do that which may cause this class to cease to exist. Sellers of books must always exist, but it is possible to drive out of the trade those who do it the most honour. We see what has occurred in the new book trade, and there can be little doubt that the book-buyer loses much more than he gains by the present system of discount. When the bookseller could obtain sufficient profit by the sale of new books to keep his shop open, it was worth his while to take some trouble in finding the book required; but now that the customer expects to buy a book at trade price, he cannot be surprised if he does not give full particulars as to the publisher of the book he requires if it is reported to him as "not known." Those only who, by taking a large quantity of copies, obtain an extra discount, can make new bookselling pay. 3. There are a large number of books which, although real additions to literature, can only be expected to obtain a small number of readers and buyers. Some of these are not taken by the circulating libraries, and publishers, in making their calculations, naturally count upon supplying some of the chief libraries of the country. If these libraries wait till the book is second-hand, the number of sales is likely to be so much reduced that it is not worth while to publish the book at all, to the evident damage of the cause of learning. It has been often suggested that an arrangement should be made by libraries in close proximity, so that the same expensive book should not be bought by more than one of the libraries. No doubt this is advantageous in certain circumstances, but in the case of books with a limited sale it would have the same consequence as stated above, and the book would not be published at all, or be published at a loss. Selden wrote in his _Table Talk_: "The giving a bookseller his price for his books has this advantage; he that will do so, shall have the refusal of whatsoever comes to his hand, and so by that means get many things which otherwise he never should have seen." And the dictum is as true now as it was in his time. Many special points arise for consideration when we deal with the question--How to buy at sales? and Mr. Edward Edwards gives the following four rules for the guidance of the young book-buyer (_Memoirs of Libraries_, vol. ii. p. 645): 1. The examination of books before the sale, not during it. 2. A steady unintermittent bidding up to his predetermined limit, for all the books which he wants, from the first lot to the last; and--if there be any signs of a "combination"--for a few others which he may _not_ want. 3. Careful avoidance of all interruptions and conversation; with especial watchfulness of the hammer immediately after the disposal of those especially seductive lots, which may have excited a keen and spirited competition. (There is usually on such occasions a sort of "lull," very favourable to the acquisition of good bargains.) 4. The uniform preservation and storing up of priced catalogues of all important sales for future reference. A case of conscience arises as to whether it is fit and proper for two buyers to agree not to oppose each other at a public sale. Mr. Edwards says, "At the sales Lord Spencer was a liberal opponent as well as a liberal bidder. When Mason's books were sold, for example, in 1798, Lord Spencer agreed with the Duke of Roxburghe that they would not oppose each other, in bidding for some books of excessive rarity, but when both were very earnest in their longings, "toss up, after the book was bought, to see who should win it." Thus it was that the Duke obtained his unique, but imperfect, copy of Caxton's _Historye of Kynge Blanchardyn and Prince Eglantyne_, which, however, came safely to Althorp fourteen years later, at a cost of two hundred and fifteen pounds; the Duke having given but twenty guineas."[13] It is easy to understand the inducement which made these two giants agree not to oppose each other, but the agreement was dangerously like a "knock-out." Mr. Henry Stevens (in his _Recollections of Mr. James Lenox_) boldly deals with this question, and condemns any such agreement. He writes, "Shortly after, in 1850, there occurred for sale at the same auction rooms a copy of '_Aratus, Phaenomena_,' Paris, 1559, in 4^o, with a few manuscript notes, and this autograph signature on the title, 'Jo. Milton, Pre. 2_s._ 6_d._ 1631.' This I thought would be a desirable acquisition for Mr. Lenox, and accordingly I ventured to bid for it as far as £40, against my late opponent for the Drake Map, but he secured it at £40 10_s._, remarking that 'Mr. Panizzi will not thank you for, thus running the British Museum.' 'That remark,' I replied, 'is apparently one of your gratuities. Mr. Panizzi is, I think, too much a man of the world to grumble at a fair fight. He has won this time, though at considerable cost, and I am sure Mr. Lenox will be the first to congratulate him on securing such a prize for the British Museum.' 'I did not know you were bidding for Mr. Lenox.' 'It was not necessary that you should.' 'Perhaps at another time,' said he, 'we may arrange the matter beforehand, so as not to oppose each other.' 'Very well,' I replied, 'if you will bring me a note from Mr. Panizzi something to this effect: 'Mr. Stevens, please have a knock-out with the bearer, the agent of the British Museum, on lot **, and greatly oblige Mr. John Bull and your obdt. servant, A.P.,' I will consider the proposition, and if Mr. Lenox, or any other of my interested correspondents, is not unwilling to combine or conspire to rob or cheat the proprietors, the 'thing' may possibly be done. Meanwhile, until this arrangement is concluded, let us hold our tongues and pursue an honest course.' That man never again suggested to me to join him in a 'knock-out.'" In another place Mr. Stevens relates his own experience as to holding two commissions, and the necessity of buying the book above the amount of the lowest of the two. The circumstance relates to a copy of the small octavo Latin edition of the _Columbus Letter_, in eight leaves, at the first Libri sale, Feb. 19, 1849. Mr. Stevens writes, "Mr. Brown ordered this lot with a limit of 25 guineas, and Mr. Lenox of £25. Now as my chief correspondents had been indulged with a good deal of liberty, scarcely ever considering their orders completely executed till they had received the books and decided whether or not they would keep them, I grew into the habit of considering all purchases my own until accepted and paid for. Consequently when positive orders were given, which was very seldom, I grew likewise into the habit of buying the lot as cheaply as possible, and then awarding it to the correspondent who gave the highest limit. This is not always quite fair to the owner; but in my case it would have been unfair to myself to make my clients compete, as not unfrequently the awarded lot was declined and had to go to another. Well, in the case of this Columbus Letter, though I had five or six orders, I purchased it for £16 10_s._, and, accordingly, as had been done many times before within the last five or six years without a grumble, I awarded it to the highest limit, and sent the little book to Mr. John Carter Brown. Hitherto, in cases of importance, Mr. Lenox had generally been successful, because he usually gave the highest limit. But in this case he rebelled. He wrote that the book had gone under his commission of £25, that he knew nobody else in the transaction, and that he insisted on having it, or he should at once transfer his orders to some one else. I endeavoured to vindicate my conduct by stating our long-continued practice, with which he was perfectly well acquainted, but without success. He grew more and more peremptory, insisting on having the book solely on the ground that it went under his limit. At length, after some months of negotiation, Mr. Brown, on being made acquainted with the whole correspondence, very kindly, to relieve me of the dilemma, sent the book to Mr. Lenox without a word of comment or explanation, except that, though it went also below his higher limit, he yielded it to Mr. Lenox for peace.... From that time I resorted, in cases of duplicate orders from them, to the expedient of always putting the lot in at one bid above the lower limit, which, after all, I believe is the fairer way in the case of positive orders. This sometimes cost one of them a good deal more money, but it abated the chafing and generally gave satisfaction. Both thought the old method the fairest when they got the prize. But I was obliged, on the new system of bidding, to insist on the purchaser keeping the book without the option of returning it." There can be no doubt that the latter plan was the most satisfactory. Some persons appear to be under the impression that whatever a book fetches at a public sale must be its true value, and that, as the encounter is open and public, too much is not likely to be paid by the buyer; but this is a great mistake, and prices are often realized at a good sale which are greatly in advance of those at which the same books are standing unsold in second-hand booksellers' shops. Much knowledge is required by those who wish to buy with success at sales. Books vary greatly in price at different periods, and it is a mistake to suppose, from the high prices realized at celebrated sales, which are quoted in all the papers, that books are constantly advancing in price. Although many have gone up, many others have gone down, and at no time probably were good and useful books to be bought so cheap as now. If we look at old sale catalogues we shall find early printed books, specimens of old English poetry and the drama, fetching merely a fraction of what would have to be given for them now; but, on the other hand, we shall find pounds then given for standard books which would not now realize the same number of shillings; this is specially the case with classics. The following passage from Hearne's _Diaries_ on the fluctuations in prices is of interest in this connection:--"The editions of Classicks of the first print (commonly called _editones principes_) that used to go at prodigious prices are now strangely lowered; occasioned in good measure by Mr. Thomas Rawlinson, my friend, being forced to sell many of his books, in whose auction these books went cheap, tho' English history and antiquities went dear: and yet this gentleman was the chief man that raised many curious and classical books so high, by his generous and courageous way of bidding."[14] These first editions, however, realize large prices at the present time, as has been seen at the sale of the Sunderland Library. It is experience only that will give the necessary knowledge to the book buyer, and no rules laid down in books can be of any real practical value in this case. Persons who know nothing of books are too apt to suppose that what they are inclined to consider exorbitant prices are matters of caprice, but this is not so. There is generally a very good reason for the high price. We must remember that year by year old and curious books become scarcer, and the number of libraries where they are locked up increase; thus while the demand is greater, the supply diminishes, and the price naturally becomes higher. A unique first edition of a great author is surely a possession to be proud of, and it is no ignoble ambition to wish to obtain it. FOOTNOTES: [13] _Libraries and Founders of Libraries_, 1864, p. 404. [14] _Reliquiæ Hearnianæ_, 1869, vol. ii. p. 158. CHAPTER III. PUBLIC LIBRARIES. Libraries may broadly be divided into Public and Private, and as private libraries will vary according to the special idiosyncrasies of their owners, so still more will public libraries vary in character according to the public they are intended for. The answer therefore to the question--How to form a Public Library?--must depend upon the character of the library which it is proposed to form. Up to the period when free town libraries were first formed, collections of books were usually intended for students; but when the Public Libraries' Acts were passed, a great change took place, and libraries being formed for general readers, and largely with the object of fostering the habit of reading, an entirely new idea of libraries came into existence. The old idea of a library was that of a place where books that were wanted could be found, but the new idea is that of an educational establishment, where persons who know little or nothing of books can go to learn what to read. The new idea has naturally caused a number of points to be discussed which were never thought of before. But even in Town Libraries there will be great differences. Thus in such places as Birmingham, Liverpool, and Manchester, the Free Libraries should be smaller British Museums, and in this spirit their founders have worked; but in smaller and less important towns a more modest object has to be kept in view, and the wants of readers, more than those of consulters of books, have to be considered. Mr. Beriah Botfield has given a very full account of the contents of the libraries spread about the country and associated with the different Cathedrals in his _Notes on the Cathedral Libraries of England_, 1849. These libraries have mostly been formed upon the same plan, and consist very largely of the works of the Fathers, and of old Divinity. Some contain also old editions of the classics, and others fine early editions of English authors. In former times these libraries were much neglected, and many of the books were lost; but the worst instance of injury to a library occurred at Lincoln at the beginning of the present century, when a large number of Caxtons, Pynsons, Wynkyn de Wordes, etc., were sold to Dr. Dibdin, and modern books purchased for the library with the proceeds. Dibdin printed a list of his treasures under the title of "The Lincolne Nosegay." Mr. Botfield has reprinted this catalogue in his book. The first chapter of the _United States Report on Public Libraries_ is devoted to Public Libraries a hundred years ago. Mr. H.E. Scudder there describes some American libraries which were founded in the last century. One of these was the Loganian Library of Philadelphia. Here is an extract from the will of James Logan, the founder-- "In my library, which I have left to the city of Philadelphia for the advancement and facilitating of classical learning, are above one hundred volumes of authors, in folio, all in Greek, with mostly their versions. All the Roman classics without exception. All the Greek mathematicians, viz. Archimedes, Euclid, Ptolemy, both his Geography and Almagest, which I had in Greek (with Theon's Commentary, in folio, above 700 pages) from my learned friend Fabricius, who published fourteen volumes of his _Bibliothèque Grecque_, in quarto, in which, after he had finished his account of Ptolemy, on my inquiring of him at Hamburgh, how I should find it, having long sought for it in vain in England, he sent it to me out of his own library, telling me it was so scarce that neither prayers nor price could purchase it; besides, there are many of the most valuable Latin authors, and a great number of modern mathematicians, with all the three editions of Newton, Dr. Watts, Halley, etc." The inscription on the house of the Philadelphia Library is well worthy of repetition here. It was prepared by Franklin, with the exception of the reference to himself, which was inserted by the Committee. Be it remembered, in honor of the Philadelphia youth (then chiefly artificers), that in MDCCXXXI they cheerfully, at the instance of BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, one of their number, instituted the Philadelphia Library, which, though small at first, is become highly valuable and extensively useful, and which the walls of this edifice are now destined to contain and preserve: the first stone of whose foundation was here placed the thirty-first day of August, 1789. Mr. F.B. Perkins, of the Boston Public Library, contributed to the _Report on Public Libraries in the United States_ a useful chapter on "How to make Town Libraries successful" (pp. 419-430). The two chief points upon which he lays particular stress, and which may be said to form the texts for his practical remarks, are: (1) that a Public Library for popular use must be managed not only as a literary institution, but also as a business concern; and (2) that it is a mistake to choose books of too thoughtful or solid a character. He says, "It is vain to go on the principle of collecting books that people ought to read, and afterwards trying to coax them to read them. The only practical method is to begin by supplying books that people already want to read, and afterwards to do whatever shall be found possible to elevate their reading tastes and habits." A series of articles on "How to Start Libraries in Small Towns" was published in the _Library Journal_ (vol. i. pp. 161, 213, 249, 313, 355, 421), and Mr. Axon's _Hints on the Formation of Small Libraries_ has already been mentioned. We must not be too rigid in the use of the term Public Libraries, and we should certainly include under this description those institutional Libraries which, although primarily intended for the use of the Members of the Societies to which they belong, can usually be consulted by students who are properly introduced. Of Public Libraries first in order come the great libraries of a nation, such as the British Museum. These are supplied by means of the Copyright Law, but the librarians are not from this cause exonerated from the troubles attendant on the formation of a library. There are old books and privately printed and foreign books to be bought, and it is necessary that the most catholic spirit should be displayed by the librarians. The same may be said in a lesser degree of the great libraries of the more important towns. In England the Universities have noble libraries, more especially those of Oxford and Cambridge, but although some colleges possess fine collections of books, college libraries are not as a rule kept up to a very high standard. The United States Report contains a full account of the college libraries in America (pp. 60-126). The libraries of societies are to a large extent special ones, and my brother, the late Mr. B.R. Wheatley, in a paper read before the Conference of Librarians, 1877, entitled "Hints on Library Management, so far as relates to the Circulation of Books," particularly alluded to this fact. He wrote, "Our library is really a medical and surgical section of a great Public Library. Taking the five great classes of literature, I suppose medicine and its allied sciences may be considered as forming a thirtieth of the whole, and, as our books number 30,000, we are, as it were, a complete section of a Public Library of nearly a million volumes in extent." The United States Report contains several chapters on special libraries, thus chapter 2 is devoted to those of Schools and Asylums; 4, to Theological Libraries; 5, to Law; 6, to Medical; and 7, to Scientific Libraries. For the formation of special libraries, special bibliographies will be required, and for information on this subject reference should be made to Chapter VI. of the present work. When we come to deal with the Free Public Libraries, several ethical questions arise, which do not occur in respect to other libraries. One of the most pressing of these questions refers to the amount of Fiction read by the ordinary frequenters of these libraries. This point is alluded to in the United States Report on Public Libraries. Mr. J.P. Quincy, in the chapter on Free Libraries (p. 389), writes, "Surely a state which lays heavy taxes upon the citizen in order that children may be taught to read is bound to take some interest in what they read; and its representatives may well take cognizance of the fact that an increased facility for obtaining works of sensational fiction is not the special need of our country at the close of the first century of its independence." He mentions a free library in Germanstown, Pa., sustained by the liberality of a religious body, and frequented by artisans and working people of both sexes. It had been in existence six years in 1876, and then contained 7000 volumes. No novels are admitted into the library. The following is a passage from the librarian's report of 1874: "In watching the use of our library as it is more and more resorted to by the younger readers of our community, I have been much interested in its influence in weaning them from a desire for works of fiction. On first joining the library, the new comers often ask for such books, but failing to procure them, and having their attention turned to works of interest and instruction, in almost every instance they settle down to good reading and cease asking for novels. I am persuaded that much of this vitiated taste is cultivated by the purveyors to the reading classes, and that they are responsible for an appetite they often profess to deplore, but continue to cater to, under the plausible excuse that the public will have such works." Mr. Justin Winsor in chapter 20 (Reading in Popular Libraries) expresses a somewhat different view. He writes, "Every year many young readers begin their experiences with the library. They find all the instructive reading they ought to have in their school books, and frequent the library for story books. These swell the issues of fiction, but they prevent the statistics of that better reading into which you have allured the older ones, from telling as they should in the average." At the London Conference of Librarians (1877), Mr. P. Cowell, Librarian of the Liverpool Public Library, read a paper on the admission of Fiction in Free Public Libraries, where he discussed the subject in a very fair manner, and deplored the high percentage of novel reading in these libraries. At the Second Annual Meeting of the Library Association (1879) Mr. J. Taylor Kay, Librarian of Owens College, Manchester, in his paper on the Provision of Novels in Rate-supported Libraries, more completely condemned this provision. He concluded his paper with these words: "Clearly a hard and fast line must be drawn. A distinct refusal by the library committees to purchase a single novel or tale would be appreciated by the rate-payers. The suggestion of a sub-committee to read this literature would not be tolerated, and no man whose time is of value would undergo the infliction. The libraries would attain their true position, and the donations would certainly be of a higher class, if the aims of the committees were known to be higher. Manchester has already curtailed its issues of novels. It has been in the vanguard on the education question: and let us hope it will be true to its traditions, to its noble impulses, and lead the van in directing the educational influence of the free libraries, and striking out altogether any expenditure in the dissemination of this literature." This question probably would not have come to the front if it were not that the educational value of Free Libraries, as the complement of Board Schools, has been very properly put forward by their promoters. With this aim in view, it does startle one somewhat to see the completely disproportionate supply of novels in the Free Libraries. This often rises to 75 per cent. of the total supply, and in some libraries even a higher percentage has been reached. There are, however, exceptions. At the Baltimore Peabody Institute Fiction did not rise to more than one-tenth of the total reading. The following are some figures of subjects circulated at that library above 1000:-- Belles Lettres 4598 Fiction 3999 Biography 2003 Greek and Latin Classics 1265 History (American) 1137 Law 1051 Natural History 1738 Theology 1168 Periodicals (Literary) 4728 Periodicals (Scientific) 1466 Mr. Cowell says that during the year ending 31st August, 1877, 453,585 volumes were issued at the reference library alone (Liverpool Free Public Library); of these 170,531 were strictly novels. The high-percentage of novel reading is not confined to Free Public Libraries, for we find that in the Odd Fellows' Library of San Francisco, in 1874, 64,509 volumes of Prose Fiction were lent out of a total of 78,219. The other high figures being Essays, 2280; History, 1823; Biography and Travels, 1664. In the College of the City of New York, of the books taken out by students between Nov. 1876, and Nov. 1877, 1043 volumes were Novels, the next highest numbers were Science, 153; Poetry, 133; History, 130.[15] In considering this question one naturally asks if the masterpieces of our great authors, which every one should read, are to be mixed up with the worthless novels constantly being published in the condemnation of Fiction; but, to some extent, both Mr. Cowell and Mr. Kay answer this. The first of these gentlemen writes: "As to the better class novels, which are so graphic in their description of places, costumes, pageantry, men, and events, I regret to say that they are not the most popular with those who stand in need of their instructive descriptions. I could generally find upon the library shelves 'Harold,' 'The Last of the Barons,' 'Westward Ho!' 'Hypatia,' 'Ivanhoe,' 'Waverley,' 'Lorna Doone,' etc., when not a copy of the least popular of the works of Mrs. Henry Wood, 'Ouida,' Miss Braddon, or Rhoda Broughton were to be had." Mr. Kay corroborates this opinion in his paper. Most of us recognize the value of honest fiction for children and the overwrought brains of busy men, but the reading of novels of any kind can only be justified as a relaxation, and it is a sad fact that there is a large class of persons who will read nothing but novels and who call all other books dry reading. Upon the minds of this class fiction has a most enervating effect, and it is not to be expected that ratepayers will desire to increase this class by the indiscriminate supply of novels to the Free Libraries. Some persons are so sanguine as to believe that readers will be gradually led from the lower species of reading to the higher; but there is little confirmation of this hope to be found in the case of the confirmed novel readers we see around us. The librarian who, with ample funds for the purpose, has the duty before him of forming a Public Library, sets forward on a pleasant task. He has the catalogues of all kinds of libraries to guide him, and he will be able to purchase the groundwork of his library at a very cheap rate, for probably at no time could sets of standard books be bought at so low a price as now. Many books that are not wanted by private persons are indispensable for a Public Library, and there being little demand for them they can be obtained cheap. When the groundwork has been carefully laid, then come some of the difficulties of collecting. Books specially required will not easily be obtained, and when they are found, the price will probably be a high one. Books of reference will be expensive, and as these soon get out of date, they will frequently need renewal. FOOTNOTES: [15] _Library Journal_, vol. ii. p. 70. CHAPTER IV. PRIVATE LIBRARIES. Treating of private libraries, it will be necessary to consider their constitution under two heads, according as they are required in town or country. In London, for instance, where libraries of all kinds are easily accessible, a man need only possess books on his own particular hobby, and a good collection of books of reference; but in the country, away from public libraries, a well-selected collection of standard books will be necessary. 1. _Town._ Every one who loves books will be sure to have some favourite authors on special subjects of study respecting which he needs no instruction farther than that which is ready to his hand. Books on these subjects he will need, both in town and country, if he possesses two houses. Some collectors make their town house a sort of gathering-place for the accessions to their country libraries. Here a class is completed, bound, and put in order, and then sent to the country to find its proper place in the family library. This is an age of books of reference, and as knowledge increases, and the books which impart it to readers become unwieldy from their multitude, there are sure to be forthcoming those who will reduce the facts into a handy form. I have gathered in the following pages the titles of some of the best books of reference which are to be obtained. Many, if not all of these, are to be found in that magnificent library of reference--the Reading Room of the British Museum. In some cases where the books are constantly being reprinted, dates have been omitted. There are, doubtless, many valuable works which I have overlooked, and some Text-books I have had to leave out owing to the exigencies of space, but I trust that the present list will be found useful. _Abbreviations._--Dictionnaire des Abréviations Latines et Françaises usitées dans les inscriptions lapidaires et métalliques, les manuscrits et les chartes du Moyen Age. Par L. Alph. Chassant. Quatrième édition. Paris, 1876. Sm. 8vo. _Anthropology._--Notes and Queries on Anthropology, for the use of Travellers and Residents in Uncivilized Lands. Drawn up by a Committee appointed by the British Association. London, 1874. Sm. 8vo. _Antiquities._--Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities. Edited by Dr. William Smith. Roy. 8vo. ---- Dictionnaire des Antiquités Grecques et Romaines d'après les textes et les Monuments ... Ouvrage rédigé ... sous la direction de Ch. Daremberg et Edm. Saglio. Paris, 1873. 4to. ---- The Life of the Greeks and Romans described from Antique Monuments, by E. Guhl and W. Koner, translated from the third German edition by F. Hueffer. London, 1875. 8vo. ---- Gallus or Roman Scenes of the Time of Augustus. By W.A. Becker, translated by F. Metcalfe. London. ---- Charicles: Illustrations of the Private Life of the Ancient Greeks. By W.A. Becker, translated by F. Metcalfe. London. _Antiquities._--Archæological Index to remains of antiquity of the Celtic, Romano-British and Anglo-Saxon Periods. By John Yonge Akerman. London, 1847. 8vo. ---- Introduction to English Antiquities. By James Eccleston. London, 1847. 8vo. ---- The English Archæologist's Handbook. By Henry Godwin. Oxford, 1867. 8vo. _Architecture._--A Dictionary of the Architecture and Archæology of the Middle Ages.... By John Britton. London, 1838. ---- History of Architecture in all countries, from the earliest times to the present day. By James Fergusson. London, 1865-76. 4 vols. 8vo. ---- Nicholson's Dictionary of the Science and Practice of Architecture, Building, Carpentry, etc. New edition, edited by Edward Lomax and Thomas Gunyon. London. 2 vols. 4to. ---- An Encyclopædia of Architecture, historical, theoretical, and practical. By Joseph Gwilt, revised by Wyatt Papworth. New edition. London, 1876. 8vo. ---- The Dictionary of Architecture, issued by the Architectural Publication Society. A to Oz. 4 vols. Roy. 4to. (In progress.) ---- A Glossary of Terms used in Grecian, Roman, Italian, and Gothic Architecture. Fifth edition, enlarged. Oxford, 1850. 3 vols. 8vo. ---- An Encyclopædia of Cottage, Farm, and Villa Architecture and Furniture.... By J.C. Loudon. London, 1833. 8vo. _Arts, Manufactures_, etc.--Ure's Dictionary of Arts, Manufactures, and Mines, containing a clear exposition of their Principles and Practice. By Robert Hunt, assisted by F.W. Rudler. Seventh edition. London, 1875. 3 vols. 8vo. ---- Spons' Encyclopædia of the Industrial Arts, Manufactures, and Commercial Products. London, 1879. 8 vols. Roy. 8vo. ---- History of Physical Astronomy. By Robert Grant. London [1852]. A most valuable book, but now out of print and scarce. ---- An Historical Survey of the Astronomy of the Ancients. By G. Cornewall Lewis. London, 1862. 8vo. _Bible._--Dictionary of the Bible, comprising its Antiquities, Biography, Mythology, and Geography. By Dr. William Smith. Roy. 8vo. ---- A Biblical Cyclopædia or Dictionary of Eastern Antiquities, Geography, Natural History, Sacred Annals and Biography, Theology and Biblical Literature, illustrative of the Old and New Testaments. Edited by John Eadie, D.D., LL.D. Twelfth edition. London, 1870. 8vo. ---- The Bible Atlas of Maps and Plans to illustrate the Geography and Topography of the Old and New Testaments and the Apocrypha, with Explanatory Notes by Samuel Clark, M.A. Also a complete Index of the Geographical Names ... by George Grove. London, 1868. 4to. _Bible._ See _Concordances_. _Bibliography._--See Chapters V. and VI. _Biography._--Mr. Chancellor Christie contributed a very interesting article to the _Quarterly Review_ (April, 1884) on Biographical Dictionaries, in which he details the history of the struggle between the publishers of the _Biographie Universelle_ and Messrs. Didot, whose Dictionary was eventually entitled _Nouvelle Biographie Générale_. The new edition of the _Biographie Universelle_ (45 vols. Imp. 8vo. Paris, 1854) is an invaluable work. Chalmers's Biographical Dictionary (32 vols. 8vo. 1812-17) is a mine of literary wealth, from which compilers have freely dug. Rose's (12 vols. 8vo. 1848) was commenced upon a very comprehensive plan, but the lives were considerably contracted before the work was completed. It is, however, a very useful work. L.B. Phillips's "Dictionary of Biographical Reference" contains 100,000 names, and gives the dates of birth and death, which in many instances is all the information the consulter requires, and should more be required, he is referred to the authority. This book is quite indispensable for every library. There are several national Biographical Dictionaries, and at last a thoroughly satisfactory Biographia Britannica is in course of publication by Messrs. Smith & Elder. The "Dictionary of National Biography, edited by Leslie Stephen," has reached the fifth volume, and extends to Bottisham. ---- Robert Chambers's Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Scotsmen (Glasgow, 1835-56. 5 vols. 8vo.) will be found useful. _Biography._--Dr. William Allen's "American Biographical Dictionary" was published at Boston in 1857. ---- Biographie Nouvelle des Contemporains ... Par A.V. Arnault [etc.]. Paris, 1820-25. 20 vols. 8vo. Mr. Edward Smith points this book out to me as specially valuable for information respecting actors in the French Revolution. ---- Handbook of Contemporary Biography. By Frederick Martin. London, 1870. Sm. 8vo. ---- Men of the Time: a Dictionary of Contemporaries. Eleventh edition. Revised by Thompson Cooper. London, 1884. Sm. 8vo. A volume of 1168 pages should contain a fair representation of the men of the day, and yet it is ludicrously incomplete. The literary side is as much overdone as the scientific side is neglected. This is not the place to make a list of shortcomings, but it will probably astonish most of our readers to learn that such eminent Men of the Time as Sir Frederick Abel, Sir Frederick Bramwell, and the late Dr. W.B. Carpenter are not mentioned. As this book has as a high reputation, the editor should thoroughly revise it for a new edition. ---- Men of the Reign. A Biographical Dictionary of Eminent Characters of both Sexes, who have died during the reign of Queen Victoria. Edited by T. Humphry Ward. (Uniform with "Men of the Time.") London, 1885. _Biography._--Dictionnaire Universel des Contemporains.... Par G. Vapereau. Cinquième edition. Paris, 1880. 8vo. ---- Supplément. Oct. 1881. ---- Biographie Nationale des Contemporains, redigée par une Société de Gens de Lettres sous la direction de M. Ernest Glaeser. Paris, 1878. Royal 8vo. ---- Dictionnaire Général de Biographie Contemporaine Française et Etrangère. Par Ad. Bitard. Paris, 1878. 8vo. ---- To this list of Contemporary Biography may be added the Indexes of Obituary Notices published by the Index Society. (_Bishops._)--Fasti Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ, or a Calendar of the principal Ecclesiastical Dignitaries in England and Wales, and of the chief officers in the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge, from the earliest time to the year 1715. Compiled by John Le Neve. Corrected and continued from 1715 to the present time by T. Duffus Hardy. Oxford, 1854. 3 vols. 8vo. ---- Fasti Ecclesiæ Hibernicæ. The Succession of the Prelates and Members of Cathedral Bodies in Ireland. By Henry Cotton, D.C.L. Dublin, 1847-60. 5 vols. 8vo. (_Lawyers._)--Lives of the Chief Justices of England. By John Lord Campbell. Second edition. London, 1858. 3 vols. 8vo. ---- Lives of the Lord Chancellors and Keepers of the Great Seal of England. By John Lord Campbell. Fourth edition. London, 1856. 10 vols. Sm. 8vo. (_Scientific Men._)--Poggendorff (J.C.). Biographisch-Literarisches Handwörterbuch zur Geschichte der exacten Wissenschaften, enthaltend Nachweisungen über Lebensverhältnisse und Leistungen von Mathematikern, Astronomen, Physikern, Chemikern, Mineralogen, Geologen u.s.w. aller Völker und Zeiten. Leipzig, 1863. Roy. 8vo. * * * * * (_Cambridge._)--Athenæ Cantabrigienses. By Charles Henry Cooper, F.S.A., and Thompson Cooper. Cambridge, 1858-61. Vol. I. 1500-1585. Vol. II. 1586-1609. 8vo. ---- Graduati Cantabrigienses, 1760-1856. Cura Josephi Romilly, A.M. Cantabrigiæ, 1856. ---- Graduati Cantabrigienses, 1800-1884. Cura Henrici Richardo Luard, S.T.P. Cantabrigiæ, 1884. (_Oxford._)--Athenæ and Fasti Oxonienses. By Ant. à Wood. New edition, with Notes, Additions, and Continuation by the Rev. Dr. P. Bliss. 4 vols. 4to. 1813-20. ---- Catalogue of all Graduates in the University of Oxford, 1659-1850. Oxford, 1851. 8vo. (_Dublin._)--A Catalogue of Graduates who have proceeded to degrees in the University of Dublin from the earliest recorded Commencements to July, 1866, with Supplement to December 16, 1868. Dublin, 1869. 8vo. Vol. II. 1868-1883. Dublin, 1884. 8vo. (_Eton._)--Alumni Etonenses, or a Catalogue of the Provosts and Fellows of Eton College and King's College, Cambridge, from the Foundation in 1443 to the Year 1797. By Thomas Harwood. Birmingham, 1797. 4to. (_Westminster._)--The List of the Queen's Scholars of St. Peter's College, Westminster, admitted on that Foundation since 1663, and of such as have been thence elected to Christ Church, Oxford, and Trinity College, Cambridge, from the Foundation by Queen Elizabeth, 1561, to the present time. Collected by Joseph Welch. A new edition ... by an old King's Scholar. London, 1852. Roy. 8vo. * * * * * _Botany._--An Encyclopædia of Trees and Shrubs; being the Arboretum et Fruticetum Britannicum abridged.... By J.C. Loudon. London, 1842. 8vo. ---- Loudon's Encyclopædia of Plants ... New edition corrected to the present time. Edited by Mrs. Loudon. London, 1855. 8vo. ---- The Vegetable Kingdom; or the structure, classification and uses of plants, illustrated upon the natural system. By John Lindley, Ph.D., F.R.S. Third edition. London, 1853. 8vo. ---- International Dictionary of Plants in Latin, German, English and French, for Botanists, and especially Horticulturists, Agriculturists, Students of Forestry and Pharmaceutists, by Dr. William Ulrich. Leipzig, 1872. 8vo. _Botany._--Topographical Botany: being Local and Personal Records towards shewing the distribution of British Plants traced through 112 counties and vice-counties of England, Wales and Scotland. By Hewett Cottrell Watson. Second edition, corrected and enlarged. London, 1883. 8vo. The need of an authoritative list of Botanical names must be frequently felt by a large number of writers, those who have but little knowledge of the science even more than Botanists themselves. The following work will be found useful for this purpose, but there is reason to hope that a much larger and more exhaustive list will shortly be published, as Mr. Daydon Jackson, Secretary of the Linnean Society, is, we believe, now engaged upon such a work. "Nomenclator Botanicus seu Synonymia Plantarum Universalis.... Autore Ernesto Theoph. Steudel; editio secunda, Stuttgartiæ et Tubingæ, 1841." Royal 8vo. _Cards._--Facts and Speculations on the Origin and History of Playing Cards. By William Andrew Chatto. London, 1848. 8vo. ---- A Descriptive Catalogue of Playing and other Cards in the British Museum, accompanied by a Concise General History of the Subject, and Remarks on Cards of Divination and of a Politico-Historical Character. By William Hughes Willshire, M.D. Printed by order of the Trustees, 1876. Royal 8vo. _Chemistry._--A Dictionary of Chemistry and the allied Branches of other Sciences, founded on that of the late Dr. Ure. By Henry Watts. 1863-68. 5 vols. 8vo. Supplement, 1872. Second Supplement, 1879. Third Supplement, 1879-81. 2 vols. ---- Handbook of Modern Chemistry, Inorganic and Organic, for the use of Students. By Charles Meymott Tidy, M.B., F.C.S. London, 1878. 8vo. ---- Handbook of Chemistry. By L. Gmelin. Trans. by H. Watts. London, 1848-67. 17 vols. 8vo. ---- Industrial Chemistry, based upon the German edition of Payen's "Précis de Chimie Industrielle," edited by B.H. Paul. London, 1878. ---- A Treatise on Chemistry. By [Sir] H.E. Roscoe and C. Schorlemmer. London. 8vo. _Coins._--A Numismatic Manual. By John Yonge Akerman, F.S.A. London, 1840. 8vo. ---- The Silver Coins of England arranged and described by E. Hawkins. London, 1841. 8vo. ---- The Gold Coins of England arranged and described, being a sequel to Mr. Hawkins's Silver Coins of England, by his grandson, Robert Lloyd Kenyon. London, 1880. 8vo. _Commerce._--A Dictionary, Practical, Theoretical, and Historical, of Commerce and Commercial Navigation. By the late J.R. McCulloch. Latest edition by A.J. Wilson. London, 1882. 8vo. ---- History of British Commerce, 1763-1870. By Leone Levi. London, 1872. 8vo. _Concordances._ _Aristophanes._--A Complete Concordance to the Comedies and Fragments of Aristophanes. By Henry Dunbar, M.D. Oxford, 1883. 4to. _Bible._--A complete Concordance to the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments. By Alexander Cruden, M.A. London, 1737. 4to. Second edition 1761, third edition 1769; this is the last corrected by the author. Most of the Concordances published since are founded upon Cruden. ---- An Analytical Concordance to the Holy Scriptures, or the Bible presented under distinct and classified heads of topics. Edited by John Eadie, D.D., LL.D. London and Glasgow, 1856. 8vo. _Homer._--A Complete Concordance to the Iliad of Homer. By Guy Lushington Prendergast. London, 1875. 4to. ---- A Complete Concordance to the Odyssey and Hymns of Homer, to which is added a Concordance to the parallel passages in the Iliad, Odyssey and Hymns. By Henry Dunbar, M.D. Oxford, 1880. 4to. _Milton._--A Complete Concordance to the Poetical Works of Milton. By Guy Lushington Prendergast, Madras Civil Service. Madras, 1857. 4to. Originally published in 12 parts. ---- A Complete Concordance to the Poetical Works of John Milton. By Charles Dexter Cleveland, LL.D. London, 1867. Sm. 8vo. The Rev. H.J. Todd compiled a verbal Index to the whole of Milton's Poetry, which was appended to the second edition of his life of the Poet (1809). _Pope._--A Concordance to the Works of Alexander Pope. By Edwin Abbott, with an Introduction by Edwin A. Abbott, D.D. London, 1875. Royal 8vo. _Shakespeare._--The Complete Concordance to Shakspere: being a verbal Index to all the passages in the dramatic works of the Poet. By Mrs. Cowden Clarke. London, 1845. Royal 8vo. ---- Shakespeare-Lexicon: a Complete Dictionary of all the English words, phrases and constructions in the works of the poet. By Dr. Alexander Schmidt. (Berlin and London), 1874. 2 vols. royal 8vo. ---- A Concordance to Shakespeare's Poems: an Index to every word therein contained. By Mrs. Horace Howard Furness. Philadelphia, 1874. ---- A Handbook Index to the Works of Shakespeare, including references to the phrases, manners, customs, proverbs, songs, particles, etc., which are used or alluded to by the great Dramatist. By J.O. Halliwell, Esq., F.R.S. London, 1866. 8vo. Only fifty copies printed. _Tennyson._--A Concordance of the entire works of Alfred Tennyson, P.L., D.C.L., F.R.S. By D. Barron Brightwell. London, 1869. 8vo. _Tennyson._--Concordance to the works of Alfred Tennyson, Poet Laureate. London, 1870. "The Holy Grail," etc., is indexed separately. ---- An Index to "In Memoriam." London, 1862. * * * * * _Costume._--A Cyclopædia of Costume or Dictionary of Dress, including Notices of Contemporaneous Fashions on the Continent.... By James Robinson Planché, Somerset Herald. London, 1876-79. 2 vols. 4to. Vol. I. Dictionary. Vol. II. General History of Costume in Europe. _Councils._--Councils and Ecclesiastical Documents relating to Great Britain and Ireland. Edited after Spelman and Wilkins, by Arthur West Haddan, B.D., and William Stubbs, M.A. Oxford, 1869. Vol. II. Part I. 1873. Vol. III. 1871. 8vo. ---- England's Sacred Synods. A Constitutional History of the Convocations of the Clergy from the earliest Records of Christianity in Britain to the date of the promulgation of the present Book of Common Prayer, including a List of all Councils, Ecclesiastical as well as Civil, held in England in which the Clergy have been concerned. By James Wayland Joyce, M.A. London, 1855. 8vo. _Dates._--See _History_. _Dictionaries._ (_English._)--One of the most useful English Dictionaries is the "Imperial Dictionary" by Ogilvie, which has been edited with great care by Charles Annandale.[16] The vocabulary is very full, the etymology is trustworthy, and the definitions are clear and satisfactory. The engravings which are interspersed with the text are excellent, and greatly add to the utility of the Dictionary. For years preparations have been made for a Standard English Dictionary, and at last the work has been commenced under the able editorship of Dr. James A.H. Murray. In 1857, on the suggestion of Archbishop Trench, the Philological Society undertook the preparation of a Dictionary, "which by the completeness of its vocabulary, and by the application of the historical method to the life and use of words, might be worthy of the English language and of English scholarship." The late Mr. Herbert Coleridge and Dr. Furnivall undertook the editorship, and a large number of volunteers came forward to read books and extract quotations. Mr. Coleridge died in the midst of his work, and upon Dr. Furnivall devolved the entire editorship in addition to his other onerous duties as Secretary of the Philological Society. He projected the admirable system of sub-editing, which proved so successful. As the work proceeded several of the most energetic and most competent workers undertook to sub-edit the materials already collected, each one taking a separate letter of the alphabet. Some two million quotations were amassed, but still the man was wanting who would devote his life to forming the Dictionary from these materials. In course of time Dr. Murray came forward, and in 1878 he prepared some specimens for submission to the Delegates of the Clarendon Press, who agreed to publish the Dictionary. The first part was published in 1884, and the second in 1885.[17] It is hoped that in future it will be possible to issue a part every six months. At present the alphabet is carried down to Batten. This is one of the most magnificent pieces of work that has ever been produced in any country, and it is an honour to every one concerned. To the Philological Society who conceived it, to Dr. Murray and his staff who have devoted so much labour and intellect to its production, and to the Clarendon Press who have published it to the world. It is, moreover, an honour to the country which now possesses a well-grounded hope of having, at no distant day, the finest Historical Dictionary ever produced. In this connection the _Encyclopædic Dictionary_, now in course of publication by Messrs. Cassell, should be mentioned as a valuable work. Up to a few years ago it was impossible to obtain any satisfactory etymological information on English words from our Dictionaries. Mr. Hensleigh Wedgwood partly removed this reproach by the publication of his very valuable "Dictionary of English Etymology" in 1859,[18] but in this work Mr. Wedgwood only dealt with a portion of the vocabulary. Professor Skeat commenced the publication of his indispensable "Etymological Dictionary of the English Language" (Clarendon Press) in 1879, and in 1884 he produced a second edition. In 1882 Professor Skeat published "A Concise Etymological Dictionary," which is something more than an abridgment, and a book which should find a place in all libraries of reference. A Glossarial Index to the Printed English Literature of the Thirteenth Century. By H. Coleridge. London, 1859. 8vo. This was one of the earliest publications which grew out of the preparations for the great Philological Society's Dictionary. Stratmann's Dictionary of the Old English Language (third edition, Krefeld, 1878) is an indispensable work. A new edition, prepared by Mr. H. Bradley, is about to be issued by the Clarendon Press. Of single volume Dictionaries, Mr. Hyde Clarke's "New and Comprehensive Dictionary of the English Language as spoken and written" in Weale's Educational Series (price 3_s._ 6_d._) is one of the most valuable. I have time after time found words there which I have searched for in vain in more important looking Dictionaries. Mr. Clarke claims that he was the first to raise the number of words registered in an English Dictionary to 100,000. The Rev. James Stormonth's "Dictionary of the English Language, Pronouncing, Etymological, and Explanatory," is a work of great value. It is so well arranged and printed that it becomes a pleasure to consult it. Those who are interested in Dialects will require all the special Dictionaries which have been published, and these may be found in the Bibliography now being compiled by the English Dialect Society, but those who do not make this a special study will be contented with "A Dictionary of Archaic and Provincial Words, Obsolete Phrases, Proverbs, and Ancient Customs, from the Fourteenth Century, by J.O. Halliwell" (fifth edition, London, 1865, 2 vols. 8vo.), which is well-nigh indispensable to all. Nares's Glossary (1822-46, new edition, by J.O. Halliwell and T. Wright, 2 vols. 8vo. 1859) is also required by those who make a study of Old English Literature. The following is a short indication of some of the most useful working Dictionaries: _Arabic._--Lane. _Greek._--Liddell & Scott's Greek-English Lexicon, both in 4to. and in abridged form in square 12mo. _Latin._--The Clarendon Press publish a Latin Dictionary founded on Andrews's edition of Freund, and edited by C.T. Lewis and C. Short, which is of great value. Smith's Dictionary, both the large edition and the smaller one, and that of Riddle are good. _French._--The Dictionaries of Fleming and Tibbins, and Spiers, keep up their character, but for idioms the International French and English Dictionary of Hamilton and Legros is the best. For smaller Dictionaries Cassell's is both cheap and good. Bellows's Pocket Dictionary has obtained considerable fame, but those who use it need a good eyesight on account of the smallness of the type. It is, however, beautifully printed. The Standard French Dictionaries of that language alone are the noble work of Littré and the excellent Dictionary of Poitevin (2 vols. 4to.). For early French Godefroy's elaborate work, which is now in progress, must be consulted. _German._--Fluegel's German and English Dictionary still holds its own, but Koehler's Dictionary is also excellent. Hilpert's and Lucas's Dictionaries, both good ones, are now out of print. Of Standard German Dictionaries Grimm's great work is still in progress. Sanders's Dictionary is also of great value. _Danish and Norwegian._--The Dictionary by Ferrall, Repp, Rosing and Larsen is good. _Dutch._--Calisch (2 vols. 8vo. 1875). _Hebrew._--Fuerst, Gesenius. _Icelandic._--Vigfusson. _Italian._--Baretti's Dictionary still keeps up its character, but Millhouse's work is also good. _Portuguese._--Vieyra. _Russian._--Alexandrow. _Sanscrit._--Monier Williams. Boehtlingk and Roth. _Pâli._--Childers. _Spanish._--Neumann and Baretti, and also Velasquez. _Swedish._--Oman. * * * * * _Drama._--Biographia Dramatica; or a Companion to the Playhouse ... originally compiled in the year 1764 by David Erskine Baker, continued thence to 1782 by Isaac Reed, and brought down to the end of November, 1811 ... by Stephen Jones. London, 1812. 3 vols. 8vo. ---- A Dictionary of Old English Plays existing either in print or in manuscript, from the earliest times to the close of the seventeenth century; by James O. Halliwell, Esq., F.R.S. London, 1860. 8vo. _Drugs._--Pharmacographia: a History of the Principal Drugs of Vegetable Origin met with in Great Britain and British India. By Friedrich A. Flückiger, Ph.D., and Daniel Hanbury, F.R.S. Second edition. London, 1879. 8vo. _Ecclesiology._--Dictionary of Doctrinal and Historical Theology. Edited by the Rev. J.H. Blunt, M.A. Second edition. London, 1872. Imp. 8vo. ---- Dictionary of Christian Antiquities. By William Smith, LL.D., and Professor S. Cheatham. London, 1876-80. 2 vols. royal 8vo. ---- Dictionary of Sects, Heresies, Ecclesiastical Parties, and Schools of Religious Thought. Edited by the Rev. John Henry Blunt, M.A. London, 1874. Imp. 8vo. ---- Glossary of Ecclesiastical Ornament and Costume, compiled from Ancient Authorities and Examples. By A. Welby Pugin, Architect.... Enlarged and revised by the Rev. Bernard Smith, M.A. Third edition. London, 1868. 4to. ---- A Glossary of Liturgical and Ecclesiastical Terms. Compiled and arranged by the Rev. Frederick George Lee, D.C.L. London, 1877. Sq. 8vo. ---- See _Ritual_. _Encyclopædias._--The Encyclopædia Britannica, or a Dictionary of Arts, Sciences and General Literature. Ninth edition. Edinburgh, 1875. 4to. Now in course of publication. ---- Encyclopædia Metropolitana, or Universal Dictionary of Knowledge.... London, 1815-41. 26 vols. 4to. ---- Chambers's Encyclopædia. 10 vols. royal 8vo. ---- Dictionary of Science, Literature, and Art. By W.T. Brande. 1842. New edition, edited by the Rev. J.W. Cox. London, 1866-67. 3 vols. 8vo. _Encyclopædias._--Rees's Cyclopædia (39 vols., plates 6 vols. 1820, 4to.) can be bought excessively cheap, and is well worth a place in a library where room can be found for it, as many of its articles have never been superseded. ---- Grand Dictionnaire Universel du XIX^e Siècle Français, Historique, Géographique, Mythologique, Bibliographique, Littéraire, Artistique, Scientifique, etc.... Par Pierre Larousse. Paris, 1866-76. 15 vols. 4to. Supplément, tome 16, 1878. ---- Dictionnaire Universel des Sciences, des Lettres et des Arts ... redigé avec la collaboration d'Auteurs spéciaux par M.N. Bouillet ... douzième édition. Paris, 1877. 8vo. _Geography._--A General Dictionary of Geography, descriptive, physical, statistical, historical, forming a complete Gazetteer of the World. By A. Keith Johnston. New edition. London, 1877. 8vo. ---- The Library Cyclopædia of Geography, descriptive, physical, political and historical, forming a New Gazetteer of the World. By James Bryce, M.A. and Keith Johnston. London, 1880. Royal 8vo. ---- Index Geographicus, being a List alphabetically arranged of the principal places on the Globe, with the countries and sub-divisions of the countries in which they are situated and their latitudes and longitudes. Compiled specially with reference to Keith Johnston's Royal Atlas, but applicable to all modern atlases and maps, Edinburgh, 1864. Roy. 8vo. _Geography._--Etymologisch-Geographisches Lexikon. Separat-Ausgabe des lexikalischen Theils der Nomina Geographica von Dr. J.J. Egli. Leipzig, 1880. Royal 8vo. ---- Dictionary of Greek and Roman Geography, by various writers, edited by Dr. W. Smith. London, 1852. 2 vols. 8vo. (_Scotland._)--Ordnance Gazetteer of Scotland. A Survey of Scottish Topography, statistical, biographical and historical. Edited by Francis H. Groome. Edinburgh, 1884. Vol. 1, roy. 8vo. (_France._)--Santini. Dictionnaire Général ... des Communes de France et des Colonies. Paris. 8vo. ---- Dictionnaire des Postes de la République Française. 6^e édition. Rennes, 1881. Roy. 8vo. (_Italy._)--Il Libro dé Comuni del Regno d'Italia. Compilato sopra elementi officiali da Achille Moltedo. Napoli, 1873. Roy. 8vo. (_United States._)--The National Gazetteer, a Geographical Dictionary of the United States.... By L. de Colange, LL.D. London, 1884. Roy. 8vo. (_India._)--Cyclopædia of India and of Eastern and Southern Asia, Commercial, Industrial, and Scientific.... Edited by Edward Balfour.... Second edition. Madras, 1871-73. 5 vols. Roy. 8vo. Third edition. London, 1885. 3 vols. The first edition was published in 1858, and two Supplements in 1862. _Geology._--A Catalogue of British Fossils: comprising the Genera and Species hitherto described, with references to their geological distribution.... By John Morris, F.G.S. Second edition. London, 1854. 8vo. _Geology._--Principles of Geology. By Sir Charles Lyell. 10th edition. London, 1867-8. 2 vols. 8vo. ---- Manual of Elementary Geology. By Sir Charles Lyell. London, 1865. 8vo. _History._--Blair's Chronological and Historical Tables from the Creation to the present times.... [Edited by Sir Henry Ellis.] Imp. 8vo. London, 1844. ---- Atlas Universel d'Histoire et de Géographie contenant 1^e la Chronologie.... 2^e la Généologie.... 3^e la Géographie.... Par M.N. Bouillet. Deuxième édition. Paris, 1872. 8vo. ---- Dictionnaire Universel d'Histoire et de Géographie contenant 1^e l'Histoire proprement dite.... 2^e la Biographie Universelle.... 3^e la Mythologie.... 4^e la Géographie ancienne et moderne. Par M.N. Bouillet ... ouvrage revu et continué par A Chassang. Nouvelle édition (vingt-cinquième), avec un Supplement. Paris, 1876. 8vo. ---- The Map of Europe by Treaty, showing the various political and territorial changes which have taken place since the General Peace of 1814, with numerous maps and notes. By Edward Hertslet, C.B. London, 1875. Vol. 1, 1814-1827; vol. 2, 1828-1863; vol. 3, 1864-1875.--This work shows the changes which have taken place in the Map of Europe by Treaty or other International arrangements. It contains a List of Treaties, etc., between Great Britain and Foreign Powers for the maintenance of the Peace of Europe and for the Settlement of European Questions, 1814-75. _History._--Moniteur des Dates, contenant un million des renseignements biographiques, généalogiques et historiques. Par Edouard Oettinger. Dresde, 1866-68. 6 thin vols. 4to. Tomes 7, 8, 9, Supplément commencé par E.M. Oettinger considérablement augmenté ... par Dr. Hugo Schramm. Leipzig, 1873-1882. ---- Haydn's Dictionary of Dates and Universal Information relating to all Ages. 16th edition, by Benjamin Vincent. London. ---- The Manual of Dates. A Dictionary of Reference of the most important facts and events in the History of the World. By George H. Townsend. Fifth edition entirely remodelled and edited by Frederick Martin. London, 1877. 8vo. ---- Encyclopædia of Chronology, Historical and Biographical. By B.B. Woodward, B.A., and William L.R. Gates. London, 1872. 8vo. ---- The Dictionary of Chronology, or Historical and Statistical Register. Compiled and edited by William Henry Overall, F.S.A. London, 1870. 8vo. ---- The Anniversary Calendar, Natal Book, and Universal Mirror; embracing anniversaries of persons, events, institutions, and festivals, of all denominations, historical, sacred and domestic, in every period and state of the world. London, 1832. 2 vols. 8vo. _History._--An Epitome of the Civil and Literary Chronology of Rome and Constantinople, from the death of Augustus to the death of Heraclius. By Henry Fynes Clinton, M.A. Edited by the Rev. C.J. Fynes Clinton, M.A. Oxford, 1853. 8vo. ---- Fasti Romani: the Civil and Literary Chronology of Rome and Constantinople, from the death of Augustus to the death of Justin II. [to the death of Heraclius]. By Henry Fynes Clinton, M.A. Oxford, 1845-50. 2 vols. 4to. ---- Fasti Hellenici: the Civil and Literary Chronology of Greece, from the earliest accounts to the death of Augustus. By Henry Fynes Clinton, M.A. Oxford, 1834-51. 3 vols. 4to. ---- Descriptive Catalogue of Materials relating to the History of Great Britain and Ireland to the end of the reign of Henry VII. By Thomas Duffus Hardy. London, 1862-71. Vol. I. From the Roman Period to the Norman Invasion. Vol. II. A.D. 1066 to A.D. 1200. Vol. III. A.D. 1200 to A.D. 1327. ---- The Dictionary of English History. Edited by Sidney J. Low, B.A., and F.S. Pulling, M.A. London, 1884. 8vo. ---- Introduction to the Study of English History. By Samuel R. Gardiner, Hon. LL.D., and J. Bass Mullinger, M.A. London, 1881. 8vo. The Second part by Mr. Mullinger is devoted to Authorities, and is a model of what such a work should be. _History._--Handy-Book of Rules and Tables for Verifying Dates with the Christian Era ... with Regnal years of English Sovereigns from the Norman Conquest to the present time, A.D. 1066 to 1874. By John J. Bond. London, 1875. Sm. 8vo. ---- The Annals of England: an Epitome of English History, from contemporary writers, the Rolls of Parliament and other Public Records. Library Edition. Oxford and London, 1876. 8vo. Contains some valuable information as to the sources of history in the Appendix. ---- The Representative History of Great Britain and Ireland, being a History of the House of Commons and of the Counties, Cities, and Boroughs of the United Kingdom from the earliest period. By T.H.B. Oldfield. London, 1816. 6 vols. 8vo. ---- An Index to "The Times," and to the topics and events of the year 1862. [By J. Giddings.] London, 1863. 8vo. ---- An Index to "The Times," and to the topics and events of the year 1863. By J. Giddings. London, 1864. 8vo. ---- Index to "The Times" Newspaper, 1864, to September, 1885. London. 410. ---- Annals of our Time, from the accession of Queen Victoria, 1837, to the Peace of Versailles, 1871. By J. Irving. London, 1871. 8vo. Supplement (Feb. 1871-July, 1878). London, 1879. 8vo. (_France._)--Dictionnaire Historique de la France.... Par Ludovic Lalanne. Paris, 1872. 8vo. * * * * * _Insurance._--The Insurance Cyclopædia, being a Dictionary of the definition of terms used in connexion with the theory and practice of Insurance in all its branches; a Biographical Summary ... a Bibliographical Reportery.... By Cornelius Walford. London, vol. 1, 1871, to vol. 6. Royal 8vo. _Language._--See _Dictionaries_, _Philology_. _Law._--The Law-Dictionary, explaining the rise, progress, and present state of the British Law.... By Sir Thomas Edlyne Tomlins; fourth edition by Thomas Colpitts Granger. London, 1835. 2 vols. 4to. ---- Wharton's Law-Lexicon, forming an Epitome of the Law of England ... seventh edition by J.M. Lely, M.A. London, 1863. Royal 8vo. ---- A Law Dictionary, adapted to the Constitution and Laws of the United States of America and of the several States of the American Union.... By John Bouvier. Fourteenth edition. Philadelphia, 1870. ---- The Lawyer's Reference Manual of Law Books and Citations. By Charles C. Soule. Boston, 1883. 8vo. ---- Ancient Law; its connection with the early history of Society, and its relation to modern ideas. By H.S. Maine. London, 1861. 8vo. _Law._--Lectures in Jurisprudence. By John Austin. Third edition, revised and edited by R. Campbell. London, 1869. 3 vols. 8vo. ---- Justice of the Peace and Parish Officer. By R. Burn. The 30th edition was published in 1869. The 13th edition of Archbold's Justice of the Peace appeared in 1878. ---- Blackstone's Commentaries on the Laws of England. Student's edition. _Literature._ (_English._)--Cyclopædia of English Literature. Edited by Robert Chambers. Edinburgh, 1843. New edition by Robert Carruthers. Edinburgh. 2 vols. Royal 8vo. ---- Dictionary of English Literature, being a Comprehensive Guide to English Authors and their Works. By Davenport Adams. London, n.d. Sq. 8vo. ---- Professor Henry Morley's _English Writers_, his _Tables of English Literature_, and his volumes of Selections, entitled _Library of English Literature_, will be found of great value. (_American._)--Cyclopædia of American Literature: embracing personal and critical Notices of Authors, and selections from their writings.... By Evert A. Duyckinck and George L. Duyckinck. Edited to date by M. Laird Simons. Philadelphia, 1877. 2 vols. Imp. 8vo. ---- The Poets and Poetry of Europe, with Introductions and Biographical Notices, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. London, 1855. Roy. 8vo. (_Polish._)--Bentkowskiego (F.). Historya Literatury Polskiey. Warszawie, 1814. 2 vols. 8vo. (_Russian._)--Otto (Friedrich). History of Russian Literature, with a Lexicon of Russian Authors. Translated from the German by George Cox. Oxford, 1839. 8vo. (_Spanish._)--Ticknor (George). History of Spanish Literature. New York, 1849. 3 vols. 8vo. (_Classical._)--A History of Latin Literature from Ennius to Boethius. By George Augustus Simcox, M.A. London, 1883. 2 vols. 8vo. ---- A History of Roman Classical Literature. By R.W. Browne, M.A. London, 1884. 8vo. ---- A History of Roman Literature. By W.S. Teuffel, translated by Wilhelm Wagner, Ph.D. London, 1873. 2 vols. 8vo. ---- Bibliographical Clue to Latin Literature. Edited after Dr. E. Hübner, with large additions by the Rev. John E.B. Mayor. London, 1875. 12mo. ---- Guide to the Choice of Classical Books. By Joseph B. Mayor. Third edition, with Supplementary List. London, 1885. * * * * * _Manuscripts._--Guide to the Historian, the Biographer, the Antiquary, the man of literary curiosity, and the collector of autographs, towards the verification of Manuscripts, by reference to engraved facsimiles of handwriting. [By Dawson Turner.] Yarmouth, 1848. Roy. 8vo. A most valuable alphabetical Index of the names of celebrated men, with references to the books where specimens of their writing can be found. _Mathematics._--Dictionnaire des Mathématiques appliqués.... Par H. Sonnet. Paris, 1867. Roy. 8vo. _Mechanics._--Knight's American Mechanical Dictionary.... By Edward H. Knight. London and New York, 1874-77. 3 vols. royal 8vo. ---- Cyclopædia of Useful Arts, Mechanical and Chemical, Manufactures, Mining and Engineering. Edited by Charles Tomlinson. London, 1866. 3 vols. roy. 8vo. _Medical._--The Cyclopædia of Anatomy and Physiology. Edited by Robert B. Todd, M.D., F.R.S. London, 1835-59. 5 vols, in 6, royal 8vo. ---- A Dictionary of Practical Medicine.... By James Copland. London, 1858. 3 vols. 8vo. ---- An Expository Lexicon of the terms, ancient and modern, in Medical and General Science; including a complete Medico-Legal Vocabulary.... By R.G. Mayne, M.D. London, 1860. 8vo. ---- Cooper's Dictionary of Practical Surgery and Encyclopædia of Surgical Science. New edition brought down to the present time by Samuel A. Lane. London, 1872. 2 vols, royal 8vo. ---- Medical Lexicon: a Dictionary of Medical Science ... by Robley Dunglison, M.D., LL.D. A new edition enlarged and thoroughly revised by Richard J. Dunglison, M.D. Philadelphia, 1874. Roy. 8vo. _Monograms._--Dictionnaire des Monogrammes, marques figurées, lettres initiales, noms abrégés, etc., avec lesquels les Peintres, Dessinateurs, Graveurs et Sculpteurs ont designé leurs noms. Par François Brulliot. Nouvelle édition. Munich, 1832-34. 3 parts. Imp. 8vo. _Music._--General History of the Science and Practice of Music. By Sir John Hawkins. London, 1776. 5 vols. 4to. ---- History of Music from the earliest ages to the present period. By Charles Burney. London, 1776-89. 4 vols. 4to. ---- Biographie Universelle des Musiciens et Bibliographie générale de la musique. Par F.J. Fétis. Deuxième édition. Paris, 1860-65. 8 vols. roy. 8vo. ---- Supplément et Complément, publiés sous la direction de M. Arthur Pougin. Paris, 1878-80. 2 vols. roy. 8vo. ---- Dictionary of Music and Musicians. Edited by [Sir] G. Grove. London, 1878. 8vo. In progress. _Mythology._--Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography and Mythology, edited by Dr. W. Smith. 1845-48. 3 vols. 8vo. _Natural History._--Dictionary of Natural History Terms, with their derivations, including the various orders, genera, and species. By David H. McNicoll, M.D. London, 1863. Sm. 8vo. _Natural History._--See _Botany_, _Zoology_. _Painters._--A General Dictionary of Painters.... By Matthew Pilkington, A.M. A new edition, corrected and revised by R. A. Davenport. London, 1852. 8vo. ---- A Catalague Raisonné of the Works of the most eminent Dutch, Flemish, and French Painters, ... to which is added a Brief Notice of the Scholars and Imitators of the Great Masters of the above schools. By John Smith. London, 1829-42. 9 parts. Roy. 8vo. ---- The Picture Collector's Manual, adapted to the Professional Man and the Amateur; being a Dictionary of Painters ... together with an alphabetical arrangement of the Scholars, Imitators, and Copyists of the various masters, and a Classification of Subjects. By James R. Hobbes. London, 1849. 2 vols. 8vo. _Peerage._--Courthope's "Historical Peerage," founded on Sir Nicholas Harris Nicolas's "Synopsis of the Peerage," is an indispensable work, but it only refers to English Titles. Mr. Solly's "Index of Hereditary Titles of Honour" contains the Peerage and Baronetage of England, Scotland, and Ireland. ---- The Official Baronage of England, 1066 to 1885, by James E. Doyle (vols. 1-3. 4to.), has just appeared. _Peerage._--Of the current peerages, Burke's, Dod's, Debrett's, and Foster's, all have their points of merit. _Periodicals._--Catalogue of Scientific Serials of all countries, including the Transactions of Learned Societies in the Natural, Physical and Mathematical Sciences, 1633-1876. By Samuel H. Scudder. Library of Harvard University, 1879. 8vo.--In this valuable list of periodicals, which is arranged geographically according to countries with an alphabet under each country, transactions and journals are joined together in the same arrangement. At the end there are an Index of Towns, an Index of Titles, and an Index of Minor Subjects. ---- An Index to Periodical Literature. By Wm. Fred. Poole. New York. Roy. 8vo. 1st ed. 1843; 2nd ed. 1848; 3rd ed. 1882. ---- Catalogue of Scientific Papers (1800-1863). Compiled and published by the Royal Society of London. London, 1867-72. 6 vols. 4to. (1864-73.) Vol. 7, 1877; Vol. 8, 1879.--Vol. 1, A-Clu; Vol. 2, Coa-Gra; Vol. 3, Gre-Lez; Vol. 4, Lhe-Poz; Vol. 5, Pra-Tiz; Vol. 6, Tka-Zyl; Vol. 7, A-Hyr; Vol. 8, I-Zwi. ---- The celebrated Dr. Thomas Young published in the second volume of his _Course of Lectures on Natural Philosophy and the Mechanical Arts_ (1807) a most valuable Catalogue of books and papers relating to the subject of his Lectures, which is classified minutely, and occupies 514 quarto pages in double columns. In Kelland's new edition (1845) the references are abridged and inserted after the several lectures to which they refer. _Philology._--Max Müller's "Lectures on the Science of Language"; Marsh's "Lectures" and "Origin and History of the English Language"; Abp. Trench's "English. Past and Present"; "Select Glossary." _Physics._--Elementary Treatise on Natural Philosophy. By A. P. Deschanel. 8vo. ---- Elementary Treatise on Physics. By A. Ganot, edited by E. Atkinson. Sm. 8vo. _Plate._--Old English Plate, ecclesiastical, decorative, and domestic, its makers and marks. By Wilfred Joseph Cripps, M.A., F.S.A. Second edition. London, 1881. 8vo. _Plays._--See _Drama_. _Pottery._--Marks and Monograms on Pottery and Porcelain of the Renaissance and Modern periods, with historical notices of each Manufactory.... By William Chaffers. Fourth edition. London, 1874. Roy. 8vo. _Prices._--History of Prices from 1793 to 1856. By Thomas Tooke and William Newmarch. London, 1838-57. 6 vols. 8vo. _Prints._--An Introduction to the Study and Collection of Ancient Prints. By William Hughes Willshire, M.D. Edin. Second edition, revised and enlarged. London, 1877. 2 vols. 8vo. ---- The Print Collector, an Introduction to the Knowledge necessary for forming a Collection of Ancient Prints. By J. Maberly, ... Edited with Notes, an Account of Contemporary Etching and Etchers, and a Bibliography of Engraving. By Robert Hoe, jun. New York, 1880. Sq. 8vo. ---- Etching and Etchers. By P.G. Hamerton. New edition. London, 1876. 8vo. _Printing._--Typographia or the Printers' Instructor: including an Account of the Origin of Printing.... By J. Johnson, Printer. London, 1824. 2 vols. 8vo. ---- A Dictionary of the Art of Printing. By William Savage. London, 1841. 8vo. _Proverbs._--A Hand-Book of Proverbs, comprising an entire republication of Ray's Collection of English Proverbs ... and a complete alphabetical Index ... in which are introduced large additions collected by Henry G. Bohn, 1857. London, 1872. ---- A Polyglot of Foreign Proverbs, comprising French, Italian, German, Dutch, Spanish, Portuguese, and Danish, with English translations and a general Index. By Henry G. Bohn. London, 1867. ---- English Proverbs and Proverbial Phrases collected from the most authentic sources, alphabetically arranged and annotated. By W. Carew Hazlitt. London, 1869. 8vo. Second edition. London, 1882. Sm. 8vo. _Quotations._--Many Thoughts of Many Minds: being a Treasury of References, consisting of Selections from the Writings of the most celebrated Authors. Compiled and analytically arranged by Henry Southgate. Third edition. London, 1862. 8vo. Second Series. London, 1871. 8vo. _Quotations._--Noble Thoughts in Noble Language: a Collection of Wise and Virtuous Utterances in Prose and Verse, from the writings of the known good and the great unknown. Edited by Henry Southgate. London. 8vo. ---- Prose Quotations from Socrates to Macaulay, with Indexes. By S. Austin Allibone. Philadelphia, 1876. Roy. 8vo. ---- Poetical Quotations from Chaucer to Tennyson, with copious Indexes. By S. Austin Allibone. Philadelphia, 1875. Roy. 8vo. ---- A Dictionary of Quotations from the English Poets. By Henry G. Bohn. London, 1867. Sq. 8vo. Second edition. London. Sm. 8vo. ---- An Index to Familiar Quotations, selected principally from British Authors, with parallel passages from various writers, ancient and modern. By J.C. Grocott. Liverpool, 1863. Sm. 8vo. ---- Familiar Quotations: being an attempt to trace to their source passages and phrases in common use. By John Bartlett. Author's edition. London, Sm. 8vo. ---- Words, Facts and Phrases, a Dictionary of Curious, Quaint, and Out-of-the-Way Matters. By Eliezer Edwards. London, 1882. Sm. 8vo. _Quotations._--The Reader's Handbook of Allusions, References, Plots and Stories, with their appendices. By the Rev. E. Brewer, LL.D.... Third edition. London, 1882. Sm. 8vo. ---- Dictionary of Phrase and Fable.... By the Rev. E. Cobham Brewer, LL.D. Twelfth edition. London, no date. ---- A Dictionary of Latin and Greek Quotations, Proverbs, Maxims and Mottos, Classical and Mediæval, including Law Terms and Phrases. Edited by H.T. Riley, B.A. London, 1880. Sm. 8vo. _Receipts._--Cooley's Cyclopædia of Practical Receipts and Collateral Information in the Arts, Manufactures, Professions and Trades ... designed as a comprehensive Supplement to the Pharmacopoeia.... Sixth edition, revised and greatly enlarged by Richard V. Tuson. London, 1880. 2 vols. 8vo. _Records._--Handbook of the Public Record Office. By F.S. Thomas, Secretary of the Public Record Office. London, 1853. Roy. 8vo. ---- Index to the Printed Reports of Sir Francis Palgrave, K.H., the Deputy-Keeper of the Public Records, 1840-1861. London, 1865. By John Edwards and Edward James Tabrum. In one alphabet. _Ritual._--Hierurgia; or, Transubstantiation, Invocation of Saints, Relics and Purgatory, besides those other articles of Doctrine set forth in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass expounded; and the use of Holy Water, Incense, and Images [etc.] Illustrated. By D. Rock, D.D. Second edition. London, 1851. 8vo. _Ritual._--Hierurgia Anglicana; or, Documents and Extracts illustrative of the Ritual of the Church in England after the Reformation. Edited by Members of the Ecclesiological, late Cambridge Camden Society. London, 1848. 8vo. _Sports._--An Encyclopædia of Rural Sports, or complete account (historical, practical, and descriptive) of Hunting, Shooting, Fishing, Racing, etc., etc. By Delabere P. Blaine. A new edition. London, 1840. 8vo. _Taxes._--A Sketch of the History of Taxes in England from the earliest times to the present day. By Stephen Dowell. London, 1876. 8vo. Vol. 1 to the Civil War 1642. _Theology._--See _Ecclesiology_. _Topography._--A Topographical Dictionary of England.... By Samuel Lewis. Seventh edition. London, 1849. ---- A Topographical Dictionary of Wales.... By Samuel Lewis. Fourth edition. London, 1849. 2 vols. 4to. ---- A Topographical Dictionary of Ireland.... By Samuel Lewis. Second edition. London, 1842. 2 vols. 4to. ---- See _Geography_. _Wills._--An Index to Wills proved in the Court of the Chancellor of the University of Oxford, and to such of the records and other instruments and papers of that Court as relate to matters or causes testamentary. By the Rev. John Griffiths, M.A., Keeper of the Archives. Oxford, 1862. Roy. 8vo. In one alphabet, with a chronological list appended. _Zoology._--Nomenclator Zoologicus, continens Nomina Systematica Generum Animalium tam viventium quam fossilium, secundum ordinem alphabeticum disposita, adjectis auctoribus, libris in quibus reperiuntur, anno editionis, etymologia et familiis, ad quas pertinent, in singulis classibus. Auctore L. Agassiz.... Soliduri, 1842-46. 4to. ---- Nomenclator Zoologicus, continens Nomina Systematica generum animalium tam viventium quam fossilium, secundum ordinem alphabeticum disposita sub auspicis et sumptibus C.R. Societatis Zoologico-Botanicæ conscriptus a Comite Augusto de Marschall [1846-1868]. Vindobonæ, 1873. 8vo. 2. _Country._ A library in a large country house should contain a representative collection of English literature, and also a selection of books of reference from the previous list. Standard Authors, in their best editions, County Histories, Books of Travel, Books on Art, and a representative collection of good novels, will of course find a place upon the shelves. A book such as Stevens's _My English Library_ will be a good guide to the foundation of the library, but each collector will have his special tastes, and he will need guidance from the more particular bibliographies which are ready to his hand, and a note of which will be found in Chapter V. Room will also be found for sets of Magazines, such as the _Gentleman's_, the _Edinburgh_, and the _Quarterly_, and for the Transactions of such Societies as the owner may be member of. The issues of Publishing Societies form quite a library of themselves, and an account of these will be found in Chapter VII. We have seen on a previous page how Napoleon wished to form a convenient travelling library, in which everything necessary could be presented in a comparatively small number of handy volumes. Few men are like Napoleon in the wish to carry such a library about with them; but where space is scarce there are many who find it necessary to exercise a wise spirit of selection. This, however, each man must do for himself, as tastes differ so widely. Auguste Comte succeeded in selecting a library in which all that it is necessary for a Positivist to know is included in 150 volumes, but this result is obtained by putting two or more books together to form one volume. POSITIVIST LIBRARY FOR THE 19TH CENTURY. 150 Volumes. I. _Poetry._ (Thirty Volumes.) The Iliad and the Odyssey, in 1 vol. without notes. Æschylus, the King OEdipus of Sophocles, and Aristophanes, in 1 vol. without notes. Pindar and Theocritus, with Daphnis and Chloe, in 1 vol. without notes. Plautus and Terence, in 1 vol. without notes. Virgil complete, Selections from Horace, and Lucan, in 1 vol. without notes. Ovid, Tibullus, Juvenal, in 1 vol. without notes. Fabliaux du Moyen Age, recueillies par Legrand D'Aussy. Dante, Ariosto, Tasso, and Petrarch, in 1 vol. in Italian. Select Plays of Metastasio and Alfieri, also in Italian. I Promessi Sposi, by Manzoni, in 1 vol. in Italian. Don Quixote, and the Exemplary Novels of Cervantes, in Spanish, in 1 vol. Select Spanish Dramas, a collection edited by Don José Segundo Florez, in 1 vol. in Spanish. The Romancero Espagnol, a selection, with the poem of the Cid, 1 vol. in Spanish. Select Plays of P. Corneille. Molière, complete. Select Plays of Racine and Voltaire, in 1 vol. La Fontaine's Fables, with some from Lamotte and Florian. Gil Blas, by Lesage. The Princess of Cleves, Paul and Virginia, and the Last of the Abencerrages, to be collected in 1 vol. Les Martyres, par Chateaubriand. Select Plays of Shakespeare. Paradise Lost and Lyrical Poems of Milton. Robinson Crusoe and the Vicar of Wakefield, in 1 vol. Tom Jones, by Fielding, in English, or translated by Chéron. The seven masterpieces of Walter Scott--Ivanhoe, Waverley, the Fair Maid of Perth, Quentin Durward, Woodstock (Les Puritains), the Heart of Midlothian, the Antiquary. Select Works of Byron, Don Juan in particular to be suppressed. Select Works of Goethe. The Arabian Nights. II. _Science._ (Thirty Volumes.) Arithmetic of Condorcet, Algebra, and Geometry of Clairaut, the Trigonometry of Lacroix or Legendre, to form 1 vol. Analytical Geometry of Auguste Comte, preceded by the Geometry of Descartes. Statics, by Poinsot, with all his Memoirs on Mechanics. Course of Analysis given by Navier at the Ecole Polytechnique, preceded by the Reflections on the Infinitesimal Calculus by Carnot. Course of Mechanics given by Navier at the Ecole Polytechnique, followed by the Essay of Carnot on Equilibrum and Motion. Theory of Functions, by Lagrange. Popular Astronomy of Auguste Comte, followed by the Plurality of Worlds of Fontenelle. Mechanical Physics of Fischer, translated and annotated by Biot. Alphabetical Manual of Practical Philosophy, by John Carr. The Chemistry of Lavoisier. Chemical Statics, by Berthollet. Elements of Chemistry, by James Graham. Manual of Anatomy, by Meckel. General Anatomy of Bichat, preceded by his Treatise on Life and Death. The first volume of Blainville on the Organization of Animals. Physiology of Richerand, with notes by Bérard. Systematic Essay on Biology, by Segond, and his Treatise on General Anatomy. Nouveaux Eléments de la Science de l'Homme, par Barthez (2nd édition, 1806). La Philosophie Zoologique, par Lamarck. Duméril's Natural History. The Treatise of Guglielmini on the Nature of Rivers (in Italian). Discourses on the Nature of Animals, by Buffon. The Art of Prolonging Human Life, by Hufeland, preceded by Hippocrates on Air, Water, and Situation, and followed by Cornaro's book on a Sober and Temperate Life, to form 1 vol. L'Histoire des Phlegmasies Chroniques, par Broussais, preceded by his Propositions de Médecine, and the Aphorisms of Hippocrates (in Latin), without commentary. Les Eloges des Savans, par Fontenelle et Condorcet. III. _History._ (Sixty Volumes.) L'Abrégé de Géographie Universelle, par Malte Brun. Geographical Dictionary of Rienzi. Cook's Voyages, and those of Chardin. History of the French Revolution, by Mignet. Manual of Modern History, by Heeren. Le Siècle de Louis XIV., par Voltaire. Memoirs of Madame de Motteville. The Political Testament of Richelieu, and the Life of Cromwell, to form 1 vol. History of the Civil Wars of France, by Davila (in Italian). Memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini (in Italian). Memoirs of Commines. L'Abrégé de l'Histoire de France, par Bossuet. The Revolutions of Italy, by Denina. The History of Spain, by Ascargorta. History of Charles V., by Robertson. History of England, by Hume. Europe in the Middle Ages, by Hallam. Ecclesiastical History, by Fleury. Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, by Gibbon. Manual of Ancient History, by Heeren. Tacitus (Complete), the Translation of Dureau de la Malle. Herodotus and Thucydides, in 1 vol. Plutarch's Lives, translation of Dacier. Cæsar's Commentaries, and Arrian's Alexander, in 1 vol. Voyage of Anacharsis, by Barthelemy. History of Art among the Ancients, by Winckelmann. Treatise on Painting, by Leonardo da Vinci (in Italian). Memoirs on Music, by Grétry. IV. _Synthesis._ (Thirty Volumes.) Aristotle's Politics and Ethics, in 1 vol. The Bible. The Koran. The City of God, by St. Augustine. The Confessions of St. Augustine, followed by St. Bernard on the Love of God. The Imitation of Jesus Christ, the original, and the translation into verse, by Corneille. The Catechism of Montpellier, preceded by the Exposition of Catholic Doctrine, by Bossuet, and followed by St. Augustine's Commentary on the Sermon on the Mount. L'Histoire des Variations Protestantes, par Bossuet. Discourse on Method, by Descartes, preceded by the Novum Organum of Bacon, and followed by the Interpretation of Nature, by Diderot. Selected Thoughts of Cicero, Epictetus, Marcus Aurelius, Pascal, and Vauvenargues, followed by Conseils d'une Mère, by Madame de Lambert, and Considérations sur les Moeurs, par Duclos. Discourse on Universal History, by Bossuet, followed by the Esquisse Historique, by Condorcet. Treatise on the Pope, by De Maistre, preceded by the Politique Sacrée, by Bousset. Hume's Philosophical Essays, preceded by the two Dissertations on the Deaf, and the Blind, by Diderot, and followed by Adam Smith's Essay on the History of Astronomy. Theory of the Beautiful, by Barthez, preceded by the Essay on the Beautiful, by Diderot. Les Rapports du Physique et du Moral de l'Homme, par Cabanis. Treatise on the Functions of the Brain, by Gall, preceded by Letters on Animals, by Georges Leroy. Le Traité sur l'Irritation et la Folie, par Broussais (first edition). The Positive Philosophy of Auguste Comte (condensed by Miss Martineau), his Positive Politics, his Positivist Catechism, and his Subjective Synthesis. Paris, 3 Dante 66 (Tuesday, 18th July, 1854). AUGUSTE COMTE, (10 rue Monsieur le Prince). This is an interesting list as having been compiled with special thought by a celebrated man, but in many of its details it is little likely to find acceptance with the general reader. It seems rather odd to an Englishman to find the _Princess of Cleves_ included, while Shakespeare is only to be found in a selection of his plays. It is not Comte's fault that science has not stood still since 1854, and that his selection of books is rather out of date. A list of a hundred good novels is likely to be useful to many, but few lists would be open to more criticism, for readers differ more as to what constitutes a good novel than upon any other branch of literature. The following list was contributed by Mr. F.B. Perkins to the _Library Journal_ (vol. i. p. 166). The titles are very short, and they are put down in no particular order. Most of us will miss some favourite book, but two people, Mr. Perkins says, have agreed on this list within four or five items. He says he was tempted to add a few alternatives, as Amadis de Gaul, Morte d'Arthur, Paul and Virginia, Frankenstein, Rasselas, etc. Don Quixote. Gil Blas. Pilgrim's Progress. Tale of a Tub. Gulliver. Vicar of Wakefield. Robinson Crusoe. Arabian Nights. Decameron. Wilhelm Meister. Vathek. Corinne. Minister's Wooing. Undine. Sintram. Thisdolf. Peter Schlemihl. Sense and Sensibility. Pride and Prejudice. Anastasius. Amber Witch. Mary Powell. Household of Sir T. More. Cruise of the Midge. Guy Mannering. Antiquary. Bride of Lammermoor. Legend of Montrose. Rob Roy. Woodstock. Ivanhoe. Talisman. Fortunes of Nigel. Old Mortality. Quentin Durward. Heart of Midlothian. Kenilworth. Fair Maid of Perth. Vanity Fair. Pendennis. Newcomes. Esmond. Adam Bede. Mill on the Floss. Romola. Middlemarch. Pickwick. Chuzzlewit. Nickleby. Copperfield. Tale of Two Cities. Dombey. Oliver Twist. Tom Cringle's Log. Japhet in Search of a Father. Peter Simple. Midshipman Easy. Scarlet Letter. House with the Seven Gables. Wandering Jew. Mysteries of Paris. Humphry Clinker. Eugénie Grandet. Knickerbocker's New York. Charles O'Malley. Harry Lorrequer. Handy Andy. Elsie Venner. Challenge of Barletta. Betrothed (Manzoni's). Jane Eyre. Counterparts. Charles Auchester. Tom Brown's Schooldays. Tom Brown at Oxford. Lady Lee's Widowhood. Horseshoe Robinson. Pilot. Spy. Last of the Mohicans. My Novel. On the Heights. Bleak House. Tom Jones. Three Guardsmen. Monte Christo. Les Miserables. Notre Dame. Consuelo. Fadette (Fanchon). Uncle Tom's Cabin. Woman in White. Love me little love me long. Two Years Ago. Yeast. Coningsby. Young Duke. Hyperion. Kavanagh. Bachelor of the Albany. FOOTNOTES: [16] The Imperial Dictionary of the English Language: a Complete Encyclopædic Lexicon, Literary, Scientific, and Technological. By John Ogilvie, LL.D. New edition. Carefully revised and greatly augmented, edited by Charles Annandale, M.A. London, 1882-83. 4 vols. Imp. 8vo. [17] A New English Dictionary on Historical Principles, founded mainly on the materials collected by the Philological Society. Edited by James A.H. Murray, LL.D., with the assistance of many Scholars and Men of Science. Oxford, Clarendon Press. Royal 4to. [18] A second edition appeared in 1871-72. CHAPTER V. GENERAL BIBLIOGRAPHIES. A good collection of bibliographies is indispensable for a public library, and will also be of great use in a private library when its possessor is a true lover of books. One of the most valuable catalogues of this class of books is the "Hand-List of Bibliographies, Classified Catalogues, and Indexes placed in the Reading Room of the British Museum for Reference" (1881). It is not intended to give in this chapter anything like a complete account of these books, as a separate volume would be required to do justice to them. Here it will be sufficient to indicate some of the foremost works in the class. The catalogues of some of our chief libraries are amongst the most valuable of bibliographies for reference. The Catalogue of the Library of the London Institution is one of the handsomest ever produced.[19] Unfortunately the cost of production was too great for the funds of the Institution, and the elaborate Catalogue of Tracts was discontinued after the letter F. The London Library being a specially well-selected one, the catalogue (which is a good example of a short-titled catalogue) is particularly useful for ready reference.[20] The Royal Institution Library is very rich in British Topography, and the catalogue forms a convenient handbook.[21] The Catalogue of the Patent Office Library is by no means a model, but the second volume forms a good book of reference.[22] Many other catalogues might be mentioned, but these will be sufficient for our present purpose. There is great want of a good Handbook of Literature, with the prices of the different books. Until this want is supplied good booksellers' catalogues will be found the most trustworthy guides. Pre-eminent among these are the catalogues of Mr. Quaritch, and the "Catalogue of upwards of fifty thousand volumes of ancient and modern books," published by Messrs. Willis and Sotheran in 1862. Mr. Quaritch's catalogues are classified with an index of subjects and authors.[23] A previous General Catalogue was issued in 1874, and a Supplement 1875-77 (pp. iv. 1672). Now Mr. Quaritch is issuing in sections a new Catalogue on a still larger scale, which is of the greatest value. For the study of early printed books, Hain,[24] Panzer,[25] and Maittaire's[26] books are indispensable. For general literature Brunet's Manual[27] stands pre-eminent in its popularity. It has held its own since 1810, when it was first published in three volumes, demy octavo. Graesse's Trésor[28] is less known out of Germany, but it also is a work of very great value. Ebert's work[29] is somewhat out of date now, but it still has its use. Watt's Bibliotheca[30] is one of the most valuable bibliographies ever published, chiefly on account of the index of subjects which gives information that cannot be found elsewhere. The titles were largely taken from second-hand sources, and are in many instances marred by misprints. Every one who uses it must wish that it was brought down to date, but it is scarcely likely that any one will sacrifice a life to such labour as would be necessary. Moreover, the popular feeling is somewhat adverse to universal bibliographies, and it is thought that the literature of his own country is sufficiently large a subject for the bibliographer to devote his time to. English literature has not been neglected by English bibliographers, although a full bibliography of our authors is still a crying want. Complete lists of the works of some of our greatest authors have still to be made, and it is to be hoped that all those who have the cause of bibliography at heart will join to remedy the great evil. It would be quite possible to compile a really national work by a system of co-operation such as was found workable in the case of the Philological Society's Dictionary of the English Language. Sub-editors of the different letters might be appointed, and to them all titles could be sent. When the question of printing arose, it would be well to commence with the chief authors. These bibliographies might be circulated, by which means many additions would be made to them, and then they could be incorporated in the general alphabet. In such a bibliography books in manuscript ought to be included, as well as printed books. Although there is little doubt that many books still remain unregistered, we are well supplied with catalogues of books made for trade purposes. Maunsell[31] was the first to publish such a list, and in 1631 was published a catalogue of books issued between 1626 and 1631.[32] William London[33] published his Catalogue in 1658, and Clavell's his in 1696.[34] Bent's Catalogue, published in 1786, went back to 1700,[35] and this was continued annually as the London Catalogue. The British and English Catalogues[36] followed, and the latter is also published annually.[37] For early printed books, Ames and Herbert's great work[38] is of much value, but information respecting our old literature has increased so much of late that a new history of typographical antiquities is sadly needed. Mr. Blades has done the necessary work for Caxton, but the first English printer's successors require similar treatment. William Thomas Lowndes, the son of an eminent bookseller and publisher, and himself a bookseller, published in 1834 his _Bibliographer's Manual_[39] which has remained the great authority for English Literature. It had become very scarce when Henry Bohn, in 1857, brought out a new edition with additions in a series of handy volumes, which is an indispensable book of reference, although it is far from being the complete work that is required. Allibone's _Dictionary_[40] contains much that is omitted in Lowndes's Manual, but it is more literary than bibliographical in its scope. The well-selected criticisms appended to the titles of the several books are of considerable interest and value to the reader. Mr. W.C. Hazlitt's Handbooks[41] are exceedingly valuable as containing information respecting a class of books which has been much neglected in bibliographical works. The compiler has been indefatigable for some years past in registering the titles of rare books as they occurred at public sales. Mr. Collier's account of rare books,[42] founded on his Bridgewater Catalogue (1837), is of great use for information respecting out-of-the-way literature, as also is Mr. Corser's descriptive Catalogue of Old English Poetry.[43] Accounts of books published in Gaelic,[44] in Welsh,[45] and in Irish,[46] have been published. The works of American authors are included in Allibone's _Dictionary_, referred to under English literature, but special books have also been prepared, such as Trübner's Guide,[47] Stevens's American Books in the British Museum,[48] and Leypoldt's great book, the American Catalogue.[49] Catalogues of Books on America, such as those of Obadiah Rich, have also been compiled, but these are more properly special bibliographies. France has always stood in a foremost position in respect to bibliography, and she alone has a national work on her literature, which stands in the very first rank--this is due to the enthusiastic bibliographer Querard.[50] A better model as to what a national bibliography should be could not well be found. The catalogue of current literature, which bears the name of O. Lorenz, is also an excellent work.[51] German literature has been, and is, well registered. Heyse,[52] Maltzahn,[53] Heinsius,[54] and Kayser,[55] have all produced valuable works. Heinsius published his original Lexicon in 1812, and Kayser his in 1834, and Supplements to both of these have been published about every ten years. A more condensed work was commenced by A. Kirchhoff in 1856, containing the catalogue of works published from 1851 to 1855; a second volume of the next five years appeared in 1861, and since Kirchhoff's death Hinrichs has published a volume every five years. The Leipzig Book-fairs have had their catalogues ever since 1594, and the half-yearly volumes now bearing the name of Hinrichs,[56] which have been published regularly since 1798, and to which the Fair catalogues succumbed in 1855, may be considered as their legitimate successors. The Literature of Holland is well recorded by Campbell[57] and Abkoude,[58] and for Belgium there is the _Bibliographie de Belgique_.[59] Italy can boast of a Gamba[60] and a Bertocci,[61] and a public office publishes the _Bibliografia Italiana_.[62] Spain is fortunate in possessing a splendid piece of bibliography in the great works of Antonio.[63] Some years ago, when I was occupied in cataloguing one of the chief collections of Spanish books in this country, I was in the daily habit of consulting these _Bibliothecas_, and while comparing the books themselves with the printed titles, I seldom found a mistake. Hidalgo's[64] work and the Boletin[65] show that at the present time bibliography is not neglected in that country. The works of Barbosa Machado[66] and Silva[67] show that Portugal is not behind the sister kingdom in the love for bibliography. Bibliographies of other countries might be mentioned here, but space will not permit. There is one branch of general bibliography to which special attention has been paid for a long period of years. O. Placcius published his _Theatrum Anonymorum et Pseudonymorum_ at Hamburgh in 1674 (2nd ed. 1708). Villani continued the record of pseudonymous literature by publishing at Parma, in 1689, a small volume entitled _La Visiera alzata_. J.C. Mylius published his _Bibliotheca Anonymorum et Pseudonymorum_ at Hamburgh in 1740. Barbier's great work on the Anonymous in French Literature was first published in 1806-8, the second edition appeared in 1822-27, and the third in 1872-78, as a continuation to the second edition of Querard's _Les Supercheries Littéraires_. Querard's work is more curious than useful, because the author has entered into minute questions of authorship which do not really belong to the domain of bibliography. Manne's volume (1834) is not of much value. Lancetti published an octavo volume on Pseudonyms in Italian (1836), but Barbier's work was not worthily imitated in any other country until Mr. Paterson commenced the publication of the very valuable work of the late Mr. Halkett.[68] FOOTNOTES: [19] A Catalogue of the Library of the London Institution, systematically classed. [London] 1835. 5 vols. royal 8vo. Vol. 1 (1835), General Library; vol. 2 (1840), Tracts and Pamphlets arranged in alphabetical order as far as the letter F. (never completed); vol. 3 (1843), General Library, Additions; vol. 4 (1852), Additions from 1843 to 1852. [20] Catalogue of the London Library, 12, St. James's Square, S.W. With Preface, Laws and Regulations, List of Members and Classified Index of Subjects. By Robert Harrison. Fourth edition. Sold at the Library, 1875, royal 8vo. pp. 1022. ---- Supplemental Volume, 1875-1880, sold at the Library, 1881, royal 8vo. pp. 219. [21] A New Classified Catalogue of the Library of the Royal Institution of Great Britain with Indexes of Authors and Subjects, and a list of Historical Pamphlets, Chronologically arranged. By Benjamin Vincent. London. Sold at the Royal Institution. 1857, 8vo. pp. xvii.-928. ---- Vol. II., including the Additions from 1857 to 1882. London. Sold at the Royal Institution. 1882. 8vo. pp. xvii.-388. [22] Catalogue of the Library of the Patent Office, arranged alphabetically. In two volumes: vol. 1, Authors; vol. 2, Subjects. London. Published and Sold at the Commissioners of Patents Sale Department. 1881-83. Royal 8vo. [23] A General Catalogue of Books, offered for sale to the public at the affixed prices. By Bernard Quaritch London, 15, Piccadilly, 1880. 8vo. pp. x.-2395. [24] 1457-1500. HAIN (L.). Repertorium Bibliographicum in quo libri omnes ab arte typographica inventa usque ad annum MD typis expressi, ordine alphabetico vel simpliciter enumerantur vel adcuratius recensentur. Stuttgartiæ, 1826-38. 2 vols. 8vo. [25] 1457-1536. PANZER (G.W.). Annales Typographici ab artis inventæ origine ad annum 1536. Norimbergæ, 1793-1803. 11 vols. 4to. [26] 1457-1664. MAITTAIRE (M.). Annales Typographici ab artis inventæ origine ad annum 1664, cum Supplemento Michaelis Denisii. Hag. Com. et Viennæ, 1719-89. 7 vols in 11 parts. [27] BRUNET (J.C.). Manuel du Libraire, cinquième édition. Paris, 1860-65. 6 vols. 8vo. Supplément par P. Deschamps et G. Brunet. Paris, 1878-80, 2 vols. Royal 8vo. [28] GRAESSE (J.G.T.). Trésor de Livres rares et précieux ou Nouveau Dictionnaire Bibliographique. Dresde, 1859-69. 7 vols. 4to. [29] EBERT (F.A.). Allgemeines bibliographisches Lexikon. Leipzig, 1821-30. 2 vols. 4to. ---- A General Bibliographical Dictionary, from the German [by A. Brown]. Oxford, 1837. 4 vols. 8vo. [30] WATT (R.). Bibliotheca Britannica: a General Index to British and Foreign Literature. In two parts, Authors and Subjects. Edinburgh, 1824. 4 vols. 4to. [31] Before 1595. MAUNSELL (A.). Catalogue of English printed Books. London, 1595. 4to. Part 1, Divinitie. Part 2, Sciences Mathematicall. [32] 1626-1631. A Catalogue of certaine Bookes which have been published and (by authoritie) printed in England both in Latine and English, since the year 1626 until November, 1631. London, 1631. 4to. [33] Before 1658. LONDON (WILLIAM). A Catalogue of the most vendible Books in England, orderly and alphabetically digested. With a Supplement. 1658-60. 4to. [34] 1666-1695. CLAVELL (R.). General Catalogue of Books printed in England since the dreadful Fire of London, 1666. Fourth edition. London, 1696. Folio. [35] 1700-1786. A General Catalogue of Books in all Languages, Arts, and Sciences, printed in Great Britain and published in London. London (W. Bent), 1786. 8vo. 1811. London Catalogue of Books. London (W. Bent), 1811. 8vo. 1810-1831. London Catalogue of Books. London (W. Bent), 1831. 8vo. 1816-1851. London Catalogue of Books. London (Hodgson), 1851. 8vo. Classified Index. London (Hodgson), 1853. 1831-1855. London Catalogue of Books. London (Hodgson), 1855. [36] 1837-52. The British Catalogue. Sampson Low, 1853. And Index. 2 vols. 8vo. [37] 1835-1880. The English Catalogue of Books. Sampson Low. And Indexes. 8vo. _Continued annually._ [38] 1471-1600. AMES (JOSEPH). Typographical Antiquities: being an Historical Account of Printing in England, with some Memoirs of our Antient Printers, and a Register of the Books printed by them ... with an Appendix concerning Printing in Scotland, Ireland to the same time. London, 1749. 4to. 1 vol. Considerably augmented by W. Herbert. London, 1785-90. 3 vols. 4to. Enlarged by T.F. Dibdin. London, 1810-19. 4 vols. 4to. [39] LOWNDES (W.T.), The Bibliographer's Manual of English Literature. London, 1834. 4 vols. 8vo. New Edition, by H.G. Bohn. London, 1857-64. 6 vols. Sm. 8vo. [40] ALLIBONE (S.A.). Dictionary of English Literature, and British and American Authors. Philadelphia, 1859-71. 3 vols. Royal 8vo. [41] HAZLITT (W. CAREW). Handbook to the Popular, Poetical, and Dramatic Literature of Great Britain, from the Invention of Printing to the Restoration. London (J. Russell Smith), 1867. 8vo. ---- Collections and Notes, 1867-1876. London (Reeves & Turner), 1876. 8vo. ---- Second Series of Bibliographical Collections and Notes on Early English Literature, 1474-1700. London (Bernard Quaritch), 1882. [42] COLLIER (J.P.). A Bibliographical and Critical Account of the rarest books in the English language, alphabetically arranged. London, 1865. 2 vols. 8vo. [43] CORSER (T.). Collectanea Anglo-Poetica; or a bibliographical and descriptive Catalogue of a portion of a Collection of Early English Poetry. Manchester (Chetham Society), 1860-79. 9 vols. Sm. 4to. [44] _Gaelic._ Bibliotheca Scoto-Celtica; or, an account of all the books which have been published in the Gaelic Language. By John Reid. Glasgow, 1832. 8vo. [45] _Welsh._ Cambrian Bibliography: containing an account of the books printed in the Welsh Language; or relating to Wales, from the year 1546 to the end of the 18th century. By W. Rowlands. Llanidloes, 1869. 8vo. [46] _Irish._ Transactions of the Iberno-Celtic Society for 1820. Containing a chronological account of nearly four hundred Irish writers ... carried down to the year 1750, with a descriptive Catalogue of such of their works as are still extant. By E. O'Reilly. Dublin, 1820. 4to. [47] Trübner's Bibliographical Guide to American Literature: a classed list of books published in the United States of America during the last forty years. London, 1859. 8vo. [48] Catalogue of the American Books in the Library of the British Museum. Christmas, 1856. By H. Stevens. London, 1866. 8vo. [49] The American Catalogue under the direction of F. Leypoldt. New York, 1880. 2 vols. 4to. Suppl. 1876-84. Compiled under the editorial direction of R.R. Bowker by Miss Appleton. New York, 1885. [50] QUERARD (J.M.). La France Littéraire, ou Dictionnaire Bibliographique des Savants qui ont écrit en français, plus particulièrement pendant les XVIII^e et XIX^e siècles. Paris, 1827-64. 12 vols. 8vo. ---- Littérature Française contemporaine (1826-49). Continuation de la France Littéraire. Paris, 1842-57. 6 vols. 8vo. [51] LORENZ (O.). Catalogue de la Librairie Française 1840-1865. 4 vols. 1866-1875. 2 vols. 8vo. The Catalogue of Books from 1876 to 1885 is in preparation. ---- Tables des Matières, 1840-1875. Paris, 1879-80. 2 vols. 8vo. [52] [HEYSE (C.W.).] Bücherschatz der deutschen National-Litteratur des XVI und XVII Jahrhunderts. Systematisch geordnetes Verzeichniss einer reichhaltigen Sammlung deutschen Büchen. Berlin, 1854. 8vo. [53] MALTZAHN (W. VON). Deutschen Bücherschatz des sechszehnten, siebenzehnten und achtzehnten bis um die Mitte des neunzehnten Jahrhunderts. Jena, 1875. 8vo. [54] HEINSIUS (W.). Allgemeines Bücher Lexicon, 1700-1815. Leipzig, 1812-56. 14 vols. 4to. 7th Supplement. [55] KAYSER (C.G.). Index Librorum. Vollständiges Bücher-Lexicon, enthaltend alle von 1750 bis zu Ende des Jahres (-1876) in Deutschland ... gedruckten Bücher. Leipzig, 1834-77. 4to. [56] HINRICHS (J.C.). Verzeichniss der Bücher ... welche in Deutschland vom Januar, 1877, bis zum (December, 1885) neu erschienen oder neu aufgelegt worden sind. Leipzig, 1876-80. 12mo. _In progress._ ---- Repertorium über die nach den ... Verzeichnissen, 1871-75, erschienenen Bücher. Von E. Baldamus. (1876-80.) Leipzig, 1877-82. 12mo. [57] CAMPBELL (M.F.A.G.). Annales de la Typographie Néerlandaise au XV^e Siècle. La Haye, 1874. 8vo. ---- 1^{er} Supplément. La Haye, 1878. 8vo. [58] ABKOUDE (J. VAN). Naamregister van de bekendste ... Nederduitsche Boeken ... 1600 tot 1761. Nu overzien en tot het jaar 1787 vermeerderd door R. Arrenberg. Rotterdam, 1788. 4to. ---- Alphabetische Naamlijst van Boeken 1790 tot 1832, Amsterdam, 1835. 4to. 1833-1875. Amsterdam, 1858-78. 3 vols. 4to. ---- Wetenschappelijk Register behoorende bij Brinkman's Alphabetische Naamlijsten van Boeken ... 1850-75 ... bewerkt door R. van der Meulen. Amsterdam, 1878. 4to. [59] Bibliographie de Belgique. Journal Officiel de la Librairie. Année 1. Bruxelles, 1876. 8vo. [60] GAMBA (B.). Serie dei testi di Lingua Italiana e di altri opere importanti nella Italiana letteratura del Secolo XV al XIX. Quarta edizione. Venezia, 1839. 8vo. [61] BERTOCCI (D.G.). Repertorio bibliografico delle opere stampate in Italia nel Secolo XIX. Vol. I. Roma, 1876. 8vo. [62] Bibliografia Italiana: Giornale compilato sui documenti communicati dal Ministero dell'Istruzione Pubblica. Anno 1-14. 1867-80. Firenze, 1868-81. 8vo. In progress. [63] ANTONIO (N.). Bibliotheca Hispana Vetus sive Hispani Scriptores ... ad annum Christi 1500 floruerunt. Matriti, 1788. 2 vols. Folia. ---- Bibliotheca Hispana Nova sive Hispanorum Scriptorum qui ab anno 1500 ad 1684 floruere notitia. Matriti, 1783-1788. 2 vols. Folio. [64] HIDALGO (D.). Diccionario general de Bibliografia Española. Madrid, 1862-79. 6 vols. 8vo. [65] Boletin de la Libreria. Año 1. 1873. Madrid, 1874. 8vo. In progress. [66] BARBOSA MACHADO (D.). Bibliotheca Lusitana, historica, critica e cronologica. Na qual se comprehende a noticia dos authores Portuguezes, e das obras que compuserão. Lisboa, 1741-59. 4 vols. Folio. [67] SILVA (J.F. DA). Diccionario bibliographico Portuguez. Lisboa, 1858-70. Tom. 1-9. 8vo. [68] A Dictionary of the Anonymous and Pseudonymous Literature of Great Britain, including the works of Foreigners written in or translated into the English Language. By the late Samuel Halkett, and the late Rev. John Laing. Edinburgh (William Paterson), 1882-85. Vols. 1, 2, 3 (to 'Tis). CHAPTER VI. SPECIAL BIBLIOGRAPHIES. Bibliographies of special subjects are more useful than any other books in the formation of a library. The articles in the new edition of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ will be found valuable for this purpose, but those who wish for fuller information must refer to Dr. Julius Petzholdt's elaborate _Bibliotheca Bibliographica_ (Leipzig, 1866), or to the _Bibliographie des Bibliographies_ of M. Léon Vallée (Paris, 1885). The late Mr. Cornelius Walford contributed a paper "On Special Collections of Books" to the Transactions of the Conference of Librarians, 1877 (pp. 45-49), in which he specially referred to the subject of Insurance. In the present chapter I propose to refer to some of the most useful bibliographies, but to save space the full titles will not be given, and this is the less necessary as they can mostly be found in the above books or in that useful little volume we owe to the authorities of the British Museum--"Hand-list of Bibliographies, Classified Catalogues, and Indexes placed in the Reading-room," 1881. _Agriculture._--Weston's Tracts on Practical Agriculture and Gardening (1773), contains a Chronological Catalogue of English Authors, and Donaldson's Agricultural Biography (1854) brings the subject down to a later date. Victor Donatien de Musset-Pathay published a _Bibliographie Agronomique_ in 1810, and Loudon's _Encyclopædia of Agriculture_ contains the Literature and Bibliography of Agriculture, British, French, German, and American. _Ana._--In Peignot's _Repertoire de Bibliographies Spéciales_ (1810) will be found at pp. 211-268, a list of books of Ana, and Gabriel Antoine Joseph Hécart published at Valenciennes, 1821, under the name of J.G. Phitakaer, a bibliography entitled "Anagrapheana." Namur's _Bibliographie des Ouvrages publiés sous le nom d'Ana_ was published at Bruxelles in 1839. The late Sir William Stirling Maxwell made a collection of books of Ana, a privately printed catalogue of which he issued in 1860. _Angling._--Sir Henry Ellis printed privately in 1811 a small octavo pamphlet of 21 pages which he entitled "A Catalogue of Books on Angling, with some brief notices of several of their authors," which was an extract from the _British Bibliographer_. In 1836, Pickering printed a _Bibliotheca Piscatoria_, which was formed upon Sir Henry Ellis's corrected copy of the above Catalogue. Mr. J. Russell Smith published in 1856 "A Bibliographical Catalogue of English writers on Angling and Ichthyology," which was soon superceded by the following work by Mr. T. Westwood. "A new Bibliotheca Piscatoria, or a general Catalogue of Angling and Fishing Literature." London, 1861 (another edition, edited conjointly with T. Satchell, 1883). Mr. R. Blakey published in 1855, "Angling Literature of all Nations." London, 1855. 12mo. Mr. J.J. Manley, M.A., published in 1883, "Literature of Sea and River Fishing," as one of the Handbooks of the International Fisheries Exhibition. _Architecture._--LACROIX (E.). Bibliographie des Ingénieurs, des Architectes, des Chefs d'Usines industrielles, des Elèves des Ecoles polytechniques et professionnelles et des Agriculteurs. Première (--Troisième) Série. Paris, 1864-67. 4to. _Assurance_ (_Life_).--Lewis Pocock published "A Chronological List of Books and Single Papers" relating to this subject in 1836, a second edition of which was published in 1842. _Astronomy._--Lalande published his valuable "Bibliographie Astronomique" at Paris, 1803. Otto Struve's Catalogue of the Library of the Pulkova Observatory, published at St. Petersburg in 1860, is highly esteemed by astronomers. The first part of the Catalogue of the United States Naval Observatory at Washington, by Prof. E.S. Holden, is devoted to Astronomical Bibliography. ---- HOUZEAU (J.C.) and LANCASTER (A.), Bibliographie générale de l'Astronomie. Bruxelles, 1880. 8vo. In progress. ---- Mr. E.B. Knobel, Secretary of the Royal Astronomical Society, printed in the _Monthly Notices_ of that Society for November, 1876 (pp. 365-392), a very useful short Reference Catalogue of Astronomical Papers and Researches, referring more especially to (1) Double Stars; (2) Variable Stars; (3) Red Stars; (4) Nebulæ and Clusters; (5) Proper Motions of Stars; (6) Parallax and Distance of Stars; (7) Star Spectra. Mr. E.S. Holden's "Index Catalogue of Books and Memoirs relating to Nebulæ and Clusters of Stars" was printed in the _Smithsonian Miscellaneous Collections_ in 1877. _Bible._--The famous Le Long published at Paris, in 1713, his "Discours historiques sur les principales éditions des Bibles polyglottes," and in 1723, in two volumes, folio, his great work "Bibliotheca Sacra." This was edited and continued by A.G. Masch, and published at Halæ Magd. in five volumes, quarto. 1774-97. T. Llewelyn published in 1768 "Historical Account of the British or Welsh Versions and editions of the Bible." A privately printed "List of various editions of the Bible" was issued in 1778, which has been attributed to Dr. Ducarel. John Lewis's "Complete History of the several Translations of the Holy Bible and New Testament into English" was published in 1818, and Dr. Henry Cotton's "List of Editions" (Oxford, 1821, 2nd edition, 1852) was intended as an Appendix to that work. Orme's _Bibliotheca Biblica_ was published at Edinburgh in 1824, and Hartwell Horne's _Manual of Biblical Bibliography_ at London in 1839. Bagster's _Bible in Every Land_ (1848), although not strictly bibliographical, must be mentioned here, because it gives under each language a notice of all versions published in that language. Lowndes' British Librarian or Book Collector's Guide. Class I. Religion and its History. London, 1839. 8vo. Parts 1, 2, 3 are devoted to Holy Scriptures, Biblical Commentaries, Biblical Disquisitions, Scripture Biography, Scripture Geography, etc. The work itself was left incomplete Dr. H. Cotton published at Oxford, in 1855, a work entitled "Rhemes and Doway. An Attempt to show what has been done by Roman Catholics for the diffusion of the Holy Scriptures in English." In 1859 J.G. Shea published at New York a "Bibliographical Account of Catholic Bibles, Testaments, and other portions of Scripture translated from the Latin Vulgate, and printed in the United States," and in 1861 E.B. O'Callaghan published at Albany a "List of editions of the Holy Scriptures and parts thereof, printed in America previous to 1860." E. Reuss published at Brunswick, in 1872, a Bibliography of the Greek New Testament. Dr. Isaac Hall printed a Critical Bibliography of American Greek Testaments at Philadelphia in 1883. Mr. Henry Stevens, the eminent bibliographer, is a special authority on Bibles, and his work, entitled "The Bibles in the Caxton Exhibition, 1877, or a bibliographical description of nearly one thousand representative Bibles in various languages, chronologically arranged" (London, 1878), contains some of the information he possesses. _Biography._--Oettinger's _Bibliographie Biographique Universelle_ (1854) is a most useful work, although it is now unfortunately somewhat out of date. _Book-keeping._--B.F. Foster's _Origin and Progress of Book-keeping_ (1852) contains an account of books published on this subject from 1543 to 1852. _Botany._--Pritzel's _Thesaurus Literaturæ Botanicæ_ (1851, another edition 1872-77) is _the_ Bibliography of the subject, and this work is supplemented by Mr. Daydon Jackson's Index of Botany, published by the Index Society. Trimen's Botanical Bibliography of the British counties, London, 1874. 8vo. _Chemistry._--R. Ruprecht, Bibliotheca Chemica et Pharmaceutica, 1858-70. _Göttingen_, 1872. _Classics._--Dr. Edward Harwood published his "View of the various editions of the Greek and Roman Classics" in 1790. He was followed in 1802 by Thomas Frognall Dibdin, whose work was much enlarged, and reappeared in several editions; the fourth and best being published in 1827 (2 vols. 8vo.). J.W. Moss published his "Manual of Classical Bibliography" in 1825, 2 vols. 8vo. Henry G. Bohn's General Catalogue, Part II. Section I. 1850, contains a valuable list of Greek and Latin Classics. Engelmann's Bibliotheca Scriptorum Classicorum et Græcorum et Latinorum (1858) is an elaborate work on the subject, and Professor John E.B. Mayor's translation and adaptation of Dr. Hübner's Bibliographical Clue to Latin Literature will be found to be a very useful handbook. _Commerce._--See _Trade_. _Dialects._--Mr. J. Russell Smith published, in 1839, a useful "Bibliographical List of the Works that have been published towards illustrating the Provincial Dialects of England" (24 pages). When the Rev. Professor Skeat started the English Dialect Society, he at once laid the foundation of an extensive Bibliographical List to include MSS. as well as printed works. This Bibliography is being published by the Society in parts. _Dictionaries._--William Marsden printed privately, in 1796, a valuable "Catalogue of Dictionaries, Vocabularies, Grammars, and Alphabets." _Dictionaries._--Trübner's Catalogue of Dictionaries and Grammars (1872, second edition 1882) is a very useful work. H.B. Wheatley's account of English Dictionaries was published in the Transactions of the Philological Society for 1865. _Drama._--A notice of some books in the English Drama will be found in Chapter IV. The _Bibliothèque Dramatique de Mons. de Soleinne_ (1843-44, 5 vols.), with its continuation to 1861, is a splendid Catalogue, in which the books are fully described, with valuable notes and preface. _Earthquakes._--Mr. Robert Mallet's Bibliography of Earthquakes will be found in the British Association Report for 1858, and Mons. Alexis Perrey's Bibliographie Seismique in the Dijon _Memoires_ for 1855, 1856, and 1861. _Electricity._--Sir Francis Ronalds' Catalogue of Books and Papers relating to Electricity, Magnetism, and the Electric Telegraph (1880) contains a large number of titles. O. Salle's Bibliography of Electricity and Magnetism, 1860 to 1883, was published in 1884. _Entomology._--Dr. Hagen's Bibliotheca Entomologica (Leipzig, 1862-63) is a carefully compiled and useful book. _Epigrams._--There is a list of books connected with Epigrammatic Literature appended to _The Epigrammatists_, by the Rev. Philip Dodd. 8vo. London, 1870. _Fine Art._--The First Proofs of the Universal Catalogue of Books in Art, compiled for the use of the National Art Library and the Schools of Art in the United Kingdom. London, 1870. 2 vols. Sm. 4to. Supplement. London, 1877. ---- Essai d'une Bibliographie de l'Histoire spéciale de la Peinture et de la Gravure en Hollande et en Belgique (1500-1875), par J.F. van Someren, Amsterdam, 1882. 8vo. _Freemasonry._--GOWANS (W.). Catalogue of Books on Freemasonry and kindred subjects. New York, 1858. 8vo. ---- HEMSWORTH (H.W.). Catalogue of Books in the Library at Freemasons' Hall, London. Privately printed. There is a list of books on Freemasonry in Petzholdt's Bibliotheca Bibliographica, pp. 468-474. Mr. Folkard printed privately a Catalogue of Works on Freemasonry in the Wigan Free Library in 1882, and in the Annals of the Grand Lodge of Iowa, Vol. IX. Part I. (1883) is a Catalogue of Works on this subject in the Library of the Grand Lodge of Iowa. _Future Life._--Catalogue of Works relating to the Nature, Origin, and Destiny of the Soul, by Ezra Abbot. Appended to W.R. Alger's Critical History of the Doctrine of a Future Life. Philadelphia, 1864. 8vo. Reprinted, New York, 1871. _Geography._--See _Voyages and Travels_. _Health._--Catalogue of the International Health Exhibition Library. Division I. Health. Division II. Education. London, 1884. 8vo. _Heraldry._--Thomas Moule's valuable _Bibliotheca Heraldica Magnæ Britanniæ_ was published in 1822. There is a "List of the principal English and Foreign Text-Books on Heraldry" at the end of _The Handbook of Heraldry_, by J.E. Cussans, London, 1869. _History_ (_General_).--BRUNET (J.C.). Table Méthodique en forme de Catalogue raisonné, Histoire. Paris, 1865. 8vo. ---- OETTINGER (E.M.). Historisches Archiv. Archives historiques, contenant une classification de 17,000 ouvrages pour servir à l'étude de l'histoire de tous les siècles et de toutes les nations. Carlsruhe, 1841. 4to. (_Great Britain and Ireland._)--Bishop Nicholson's English, Scotch, and Irish Historical Libraries, 1776, will still be found useful. Mr. Mullinger's portion of the Introduction to the Study of English History (1881) gives the latest information on the subject. Sir Duffus Hardy's "Descriptive Catalogue of Materials relating to the History of Great Britain and Ireland to the end of the reign of Henry VIII." is an invaluable book, but is unfortunately incomplete. (_France._)--LELONG (J.). Bibliothèque Historique (1768-78, 5 vols, folio). "Les Sources de l'Histoire de France," by A. Franklin, was published in 1877. _History_ (_Germany._)--Bibliographical Essay on the Scriptores Rerum Germanicarum, by A. Asher, was published in 1843. (_Holland._)--NIJHOFF. Bibliotheca Historico-Neerlandica. La Haye, 1871. (_Italy._)--LICHTENTHAL (P.). Manuale Bibliografico del Viaggiatore in Italia. Milano, 1844. A Catalogue of Sir Richard Colt Hoare's Collection of Books relating to the History and Topography of Italy was printed in 1812. The Collection was presented to the British Museum by Hoare in 1825. (_Portugal._)--FIGANIERE. Bibliographia Historica Portugueza. Lisboa, 1850. (_Spain._)--MUNOZ Y ROMERO. Diccionario bibliografico-historico ... de Espana. Madrid, 1858. _Language._--See _Dictionaries_, _Philology_. _Law._--Mr. Stephen R. Griswold contributed an article on Law Libraries to the U.S. Report on Libraries (pp. 161-170). He writes, "Law books may be classified generally as follows: Reports, Treatises, Statute Law. The practice of reporting the decisions of the Judges began in the reign of Edward I., and from that time we have a series of judicial reports of those decisions. In the time of Lord Bacon, these reports extended to fifty or sixty volumes. During the two hundred and fifty years that have passed since then, nothing has been done by way of revision or expurgation; but these publications have been constantly increasing, so that at the close of the year 1874 the published volumes of reports were as follows: English, 1350 volumes; Irish, 175 volumes; Scotch, 225 volumes; Canadian, 135 volumes; American, 2400 volumes. With respect to treatises (including law periodicals and digests), and without including more than one edition of the same work, it is safe to say that a fair collection would embrace at least 2000 volumes. The statute law of the United States, if confined to the general or revised statutes and codes, may be brought within 100 volumes. If, however, the sessional acts be included, the collection would amount to over 1500 volumes. It is thus seen that a fairly complete law library would embrace more than 7000 volumes, which could not be placed upon its shelves for less than $50,000." _Law._--There is a useful list of legal bibliographies in the "Hand-list of Bibliographies in the Reading-room of the British Museum" (pp. 40-44). Clarke's _Bibliotheca Legum_, which was compiled by Hartwell Horne (1819), is a valuable work. Marvin's _Legal Bibliography_, which was published at Philadelphia in 1847, contains 800 pages. The Catalogue of the Law Library in the New York State Library (1856), forms a useful guide to the subject, and Herbert G. Sweet's "Complete Catalogue of Modern Law Books" is one of the latest catalogues of authority. _Mathematics._--A really good bibliography of Mathematics is still wanting. The following books, however, all from Germany, are useful. _Mathematics._--MURHARD (F.W.A.). Bibliotheca Mathematica. Lipsiæ, 1797-1804. 4 vols. ---- ROGG (J.). Handbuch der Mathematischen Literatur. Tübingen, 1830. ---- SOHNCKE (L.A.). Bibliotheca Mathematica. 1830-54. Leipsic, 1854. ---- ERLECKE (A.). Bibliotheca Mathematica. Halle-a.-S., 1873. ---- Professor De Morgan's Arithmetical Books (1847) is a model of what a good bibliography ought to be. _Medical._--Dr. Billings contributed a chapter on "Medical Libraries in the United States" to the U.S. Report on Public Libraries (pp. 171-182), in which he wrote--"The record of the researches, experiences, and speculations relating to Medical Science during the last four hundred years is contained in between two and three hundred thousand volumes and pamphlets; and while the immense majority of these have little or nothing of what we call 'practical value,' yet there is no one of them which would not be called for by some inquirer if he knew of its existence." The writer added a list of works of reference which should be in every Medical Library. There have been a specially large number of Medical Bibliographies, from Haller's works downwards. James Atkinson's Medical Bibliography (1834, A and B only), is an amusing book, but of little or no utility. The most useful books are Dr. Billings's Index Catalogue of the Library of the Surgeon-General's Office (Washington, 1880) and the Catalogue of the Library of the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society (3 vols. 1879), by B.R. Wheatley. Neale's Medical Digest (1877) forms a convenient guide to the medical periodicals. The two great French dictionaries--Raige-Delorme and A. Dechambre, Dictionnaire Encyclopédique des Sciences Médicales (4 series, commenced in 1854, and still in progress); Jaccoud, Nouveau Dictionnaire de Médecine et de Chirurgie Pratiques (1864, and still in progress)--contain very valuable references to the literature of the various subjects. Of special subjects may be mentioned H. Haeser's Bibliotheca Epidemiographica (1843), John S. Billings's Bibliography of Cholera in the Report of the Cholera Epidemic of 1873 in the United States (1875, pp. 707-1025), Beer's Bibliotheca Ophthalmica (1799), Dr. E.J. Waring's Bibliotheca Therapeutica (1878-79, 2 vols. 8vo.), and Bibliography of Embryology, in Balfour's Embryology, vol. ii. _Meteorology._--A full bibliography of books and papers upon Meteorology is being prepared at the United States Signal Office, and it is reported that 48,000 titles are now in the office. There have been several articles on this subject in _Symons's Meteorological Magazine_, the last being in the number for December, 1885. _Mineralogy._--DANA (J.D.). Bibliography of Mineralogy. 1881. 8vo. _Mining._--Wigan Free Public Library Index Catalogue of Books and Papers relating to Mining, Metallurgy, and Manufactures. By Henry Tennyson Folkard, Librarian. Southport, 1880. Roy. 8vo. _Motion (Perpetual)._--Perpetuum Mobile; or, search for Self-Motive Power during the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries, illustrated from various authentic sources in papers, essays, letters, paragraphs, and numerous Patent Specifications, with an Introductory Essay. By Henry Dircks, C.E. London, 1861. Sm. 8vo. Second Series. London, 1870. Sm. 8vo. _Music._--ENGEL (C.). The Literature of National Music. London, 1879. 8vo. ---- Catalogue of the Library of the Sacred Harmonic Society. A new edition [by W.H. Husk]. London, 1872. 8vo. ---- RIMBAULT (F.). Bibliotheca Madrigaliana, a Bibliographical Account of the Musical and Poetical Works published in England during the 16th and 17th centuries, under the titles of Madrigals, Ballets, Ayres, Canzonets, etc. London, 1847. 8vo. There are bibliographies of the subject in F.L. Kilter's History of Music, London, 1876, and F. Clement, Histoire générale de la Musique Religieuse. Paris, 1861. _Natural History._--Dryander's Catalogue of Sir Joseph Banks's Library, now in the British Museum, is the most famous bibliography of this subject, although made so many years ago. It consists of 5 vols. 8vo. (1798-1800). Vol. 1, General Writers; Vol. 2, Zoology; Vol. 3, Botany; Vol. 4, Mineralogy; Vol. 5, Supplement. _Natural History._--ENGELMANN (W.). Bibliotheca Historico-Naturalis. Leipzig, 1846. ---- ZUCKOLD (E.A.). Bibliotheca Historico-Naturalis, Physico-Chemica et Mathematica. Göttingen, 1852. ---- See _Zoology_. _Philology._--MARSDEN (W.) Bibliotheca Marsdenia, Philologica et Orientalis. London, 1827. 4to. ---- ENGELMANN (W.). Bibliotheca Philologica. Leipzig, 1853. ---- See _Dictionaries_. _Political Economy._--MCCULLOCH (J.R.) The Literature of Political Economy, London, 1845.--This is a very valuable work up to the date of publication, but a good bibliography of the subject is still a desideratum. The late Professor Stanley Jevons proposed to draw up a Handy Book of the Literature for the Index Society, but, to the great loss of bibliography, was prevented by other work from undertaking it. He contributed a list of Selected Books in Political Economy to the _Monthly Notes_ of the Library Association (Vol. 3, No. 7). _Poor._--A Catalogue of Publications in the English Language on subjects relative to the Poor will be found in Eden's _State of the Poor_, vol. iii. pp. ccclxvii--ccclxxxvi. _Printing._--BIGMORE (E.C.), and WYMAN (C.W.H.). A Bibliography of Printing, with Notes and Illustrations. London, 1880. 4to. ---- The Literature of Printing. A Catalogue of the Library illustrative of the History and Art of Typography, Chalcography, and Lithography, by R.M. Hoe. London, 1877. 8vo. The following is a list of some of the bibliographies of the productions of the chief printers: _Aldus._--Annales de l'Imprimerie des Alde ou Histoire des trois Manuce et de leurs éditions. Par Ant. Aug. Renouard. Paris, an XII. Seconde édition. Paris, 1825. 8vo. 3 vols. _Caxton._--The Life and Typography of William Caxton, England's first Printer, with evidence of his typographical connection with Colard Mansion, the Printer at Bruges. Compiled from original sources by William Blades. London, 1861-63. 2 vols. 4to. A condensed edition was published under the following title: The Biography and Typography of William Caxton, England's first Printer. By William Blades. Second edition. London, 1882. 8vo. _Elzevirs._--Willems (A.). Les Elzevier. Histoire et Annales Typographiques. Bruxelles, 1880. 8vo. ---- C. Pieters. Annales de l'Imprimerie des Elsevier. Gand, 1858. 8vo. _Plantin._--La Maison Plantin à Anvers. Par L. Degeorge. Deuxième édition, augmentée d'une liste chronologique des ouvrages imprimés par Plantin à Anvers de 1555 à 1589. Bruxelles, 1878. 8vo. _Stephens._--Annales de l'Imprimerie des Estienne, ou Histoire de la Famille, des Estienne et de ses éditions. Par A.A. Renouard. Paris, 1837-38. 8vo. 2 parts. _Privately Printed Books._--The second edition of John Martin's Bibliographical Catalogue of Privately Printed Books was published in 1854, and a newer work on this important subject is much required. Mr. W.P. Courtney has been engaged in the production of such a work for some years, and the labour could not be in better hands. _Proverbs._--The _Bibliographie Parémiologique_ of Pierre Alexandre Gratet-Duplessis (1847), is one of the most elaborate and carefully compiled bibliographies ever published. Sir William Stirling Maxwell printed privately a catalogue of his collection of books of proverbs, in which were specially marked those unknown to Duplessis, or those published since the issue of his catalogue. _Science._--An article on the Scientific Libraries in the United States was contributed by Dr. Theodore Gill to the U.S. Report on Public Libraries (pp. 183-217). It contains an account of the various periodical records of work in the various departments of science. _Shorthand._--Thomas Anderson's History of Shorthand, London (1882), contains Lists of Writers on Shorthand in different languages. _Theology._--There is an article on Theological Libraries in the United States, in the U.S. Report on Public Libraries (pp. 127-160). The following extract contains some particulars respecting these.--"There are reported twenty-four libraries, which contain from 10,000 to 34,000 volumes; and these twenty-four libraries belong to ten different denominations. Three Baptist, two Catholic, two Congregational, three Episcopal, one Lutheran, two Methodist, seven Presbyterian, one Reformed (Dutch), one Reformed (German), and two Unitarian. And, if we include those libraries which contain less than 10,000 volumes, the list of different denominations to which they belong is extended to fifteen or sixteen." A considerable number of Bibliographies of Theology will be found in the British Museum Hand-list. Darling's Cyclopædia Bibliographica (1854-59), Malcom's Theological Index (Boston, 1868), and Zuchold's Bibliotheca Theologica (Göttingen, 1864), may be specially mentioned. _Topography._--Gough's British Topography (2 vols. 4to. 1780) is an interesting and useful book, and Upcott's Bibliographical Account of the principal works relating to British Topography, 3 vols. 8vo. (1818), forms one of the best specimens of English bibliography extant. _Topography._--Mr. J.P. Anderson's Book of British Topography (1881) is an indispensable book. Mr. Robert Harrison has prepared for the Index Society an Index of Books on Topography, arranged in one alphabet of places, which has not yet been published. Mr. W.H.K. Wright contributed a paper on "Special Collections of Local Books in Provincial Libraries" to the Transactions of the First Annual Meeting of the Library Association, 1878 (pp. 44-50). Another paper on the same subject, by Mr. J.H. Nodal, appears in the Transactions of the Second Annual Meeting of the Library Association, 1879 (pp. 54-60), entitled "Special Collections of Books in Lancashire and Cheshire," and in the Appendix (pp. 139-148) is a full account of these collections in Public Libraries and private hands. An indication of some of the chief bibliographies of particular counties and places is here added-- Cornwall: Boase & Courtney, 1874-82. 3 vols. A model bibliography. Devonshire: J. Davidson, 1852. " Plymouth (Three Towns' Bibliotheca), R.N. Worth, 1872-73. Dorsetshire: C.H. Mayo, privately printed, 1885. Gloucestershire: Bibliotheca Gloucestrensis, J. Washbourn, 1823-25. Gloucestershire: Collectanea Glocestriensia, J.D. Phelps, 1842. Hampshire: Bibliotheca Hantoniensis, H.M. Gilbert, 1872? " List of Books, Sir W.H. Cope, 1879. Herefordshire: J. Allen, jun., 1821. Kent: J. Russell Smith, 1837. Lancashire: H. Fishwick, 1875. Man (Isle of): W. Harrison, 1876. Norfolk: S. Woodward and W.C. Ewing, 1842. Nottinghamshire: S.F. Creswell, 1863. Sussex: G.S. Butler, 1866. Yorkshire: Rt. Hon. John Smythe, Pontefract, 1809. " E. Hailstone, 1858. " W. Boyne, 1869. _Trade and Finance._--Catalogue of Books, comprising the Library of William Paterson, Founder of the Bank of England, in vol. iii. of the Collection of his "Writings, edited by Saxe Bannister," (3 vols. 8vo. London, 1859). ---- Enslin und Engelmann. Bibliothek der Handlungswissenschaft 1750-1845. Leipzig, 1856. _Trials._--The Catalogue of the Library of the Philosophical Institution of Edinburgh (1857) contains (pp. 297-319) a very useful list of trials in an alphabet of the persons tried. The table is arranged under name, charge, date of trial, and reference. _Voyages and Travels._--Locke's Catalogue and character of most books of Voyages and Travels is interesting on account of Locke's notes. (Locke's Works, 1812, 10 vols. 8vo., vol. x. pp. 513-564.) There are catalogues of books of travels in Pinkerton's collection (1814), and Kerr's collection (1822). ---- Boucher de la Richaderie, Bibliothèque Universelle des Voyages, Paris, 1808. 6 vols. 8vo. ---- Engelmann (W.). Bibliotheca Geographica. Leipzig, 1858. _Zoology._--Agassiz's Bibliographia Zoologicæ et Geologicæ, published by the Ray Society, 1848-54, was a useful book in its day, but it is of no value bibliographically, and the titles being mostly taken at second-hand, the work is full of blunders. ---- Carus and Engelmann's Bibliotheca Zoologica, Leipzig 1861, forms a Supplement to the Bibliotheca Historico-Naturalis of Engelmann. * * * * * A large number of bibliographies of particular authors have been published in this country and abroad, and it may be useful here to make a note of some of these. Ariosto, Orlando Furioso: Ulisse Guidi, _Bologna_, 1861, 1868. G.J. Ferrazzi, _Bassano_, 1881. Boccaccio: M. Landau, _Napoli_, 1881. Burns: J. Mackie, _Kilmar_, 1866. Calderon: E. Dorer, _Leipzig_, 1881. Camoens: Adamson's Life of Camoens, vol. 2, 1820. Cervantes: E. Dorer, _Leipzig_, 1881. Corneille: E. Picot, _Paris_, 1876. Dante: Bibliografia Dantesca, _Prato_, 1845-46. C.U.J. Chevalier, 1877. G.A. Scartazzini, Dante in Germania, 1881. J. Petzholdt, _Dresden_, 1880. Goethe: S. Hirzel, 1878. Luther: E.G. Vogel, _Halle_, 1851. J. Edmands, _Philadelphia_, 1883. Manzoni: A. Vosmara, _Milano_, 1875. Molière: P. Lacroix, _Paris_, 1875. Montaigne: J.F. Payer, _Paris_, 1837. Persius: J. Tarlier, _Bruxelles_, 1848. Petrarch: Marsand, _Milano_, 1826. " A. Hortis, _Trieste_, 1874. " G.J. Ferrazzi, _Bassano_, 1877. C.U.J. Chevalier, Montpéliard, 1880. Rabelais: J.C. Brunet, _Paris_, 1852. Schiller: L. Unflad, _München_, 1878. Tasso: G.J. Ferrazzi, _Bassano_, 1880. Voltaire: G. Bengesco, _Paris_, 1882. * * * * * Browning: F.J. Furnivall, Browning Society, 1881-2. Carlyle: R.H. Shepherd, 1882. Defoe: M. Stace, 1829; Wilson, 1830; Lee, 1862. Dickens: R.H. Shepherd, 1881. " J. Cook, Paisley, 1879. Hazlitt, Leigh Hunt, Charles Lamb: A. Ireland, 1868. Ruskin: R.H. Shepherd, 1882. Shakespeare: J. Wilson, 1827; J.O. Halliwell, 1841; Moulin, 1845; Sillig and Ulrici, 1854; H.G. Bohn, 1864; F. Thimm, 1865-72; K. Knortz, 1876; Unflad, 1880; Justin Winsor (Poems); Birmingham Memorial Library Catalogue (J.D. Mullens). Shelley: H.B. Forman, 1886. Tennyson: R.H. Shepherd, 1879. Thackeray: R.H. Shepherd, 1881. Wycliffe: J. Edmands, 1884. Dr. Garnett commenced a MS. list of such special bibliographies as he came across in Treatises on the different subjects. This list is added to and kept in the Reading Room for use by the Librarians. I was allowed the privilege of referring to this very useful list. CHAPTER VII. PUBLISHING SOCIETIES. A large amount of important information is to be found in the publications of the numerous Societies formed for the purpose of supplying to their subscribers valuable works which are but little likely to find publishers. These publications have in a large number of instances added to our knowledge of history and literature considerably. The Societies have much increased of late years, but no record of the publications is easily to be obtained, since the full account given in Bohn's Supplement to Lowndes's _Bibliographer's Manual_. The earliest of Publishing Societies was the _Dilettanti Society_, instituted in London in 1734, which issued some fine illustrated volumes of classical travel. A long period of time elapsed without any societies of a similar character being formed. _The Roxburghe Club_ formed in the year 1812 in commemoration of the sale of the magnificent library of John third Duke of Roxburghe (died March 19, 1804). It was chiefly intended as a Social Club, and a long list of bibliographical toasts was run through at the banquets. The publications were not at first of any great literary value, although some of them were curious and interesting. After a time competent editors were employed, and some important works produced. Sir Frederick Madden's editions of "Havelok the Dane" was issued in 1828, of the Romance of "William and the Werwolf" in 1832, and of the old English version of "Gesta Romanorum" in 1838. The valuable "Manners and Household Expenses of England in the Thirteenth and Fifteenth Centuries," edited by T. Hudson Turner, was presented to the Club by Beriah Botfield in 1841; Payne Collier's edition of the "Household Books of John Duke of Norfolk, and Thomas Earl of Surrey, 1481-1490," was issued in 1844, and his "Five Old Plays illustrative of the Early Progress of the English Drama" in 1851; the Rev. Joseph Stevenson's edition of "The Owl and the Nightingale, a Poem of the Twelfth Century," was issued in 1838, and his edition of "The Ayenbite of Inwyt" in 1855; John Gough Nichols's edition of the "Literary Remains of King Edward the Sixth" appeared in 1857 and 1858 (2 vols.), and Dr. Furnivall's edition of Henry Lonelich's "Seynt Graal" in 1863-1864. Several years elapsed before the second great Printing Club was founded. In 1823 _The Bannatyne Club_ was started in Edinburgh, chiefly by Sir Walter Scott, for the purpose of printing works illustrative of the History, Antiquities and Literature of Scotland. It derives its names from George Bannatyne (born Feb. 22, 1545, died 1607). A long series of books have been issued by the Club to its members, many of which are of great interest. The Catalogue of the Abbotsford Library was presented in 1839 to the members "by Major Sir Walter Scott, Bart., as a slight return for their liberality and kindness in agreeing to continue to that Library the various valuable works printed under their superintendence." In the same year appeared Sir Frederick Madden's edition of _Sir Gawayne_. Bishop Gawin Douglas's "Palace of Honour" was printed in 1827, and his translation of Virgil's "Æneid" in 1839 (2 vols.). The Club was closed in 1867. _The Maitland Club_, which derived its name from Sir Richard Maitland of Lethington (born in 1496, died March 20, 1586), was instituted in Glasgow in 1828. A volume containing "The Burgh Records of the City of Glasgow, 1573 to 1581," was presented to the Club in 1832-34; the Poems of Drummond of Hawthornden in 1832; Robert Wodrow's "Collection upon the Lives of the Reformers and most eminent Ministers of the Church of Scotland" in 1834-45 (2 vols.). Dauncey's Ancient Scottish Melodies in 1838. Sir Bevis of Hamtoun in the same year, the Metrical Romance of Lancelot du Lak in 1839; Wodrow's Analecta, or Materials for a History of Remarkable Providences, in 1842-3 (4 vols.). Henry Laing's Descriptive Catalogue of Ancient Seals, in 1850. The Club was closed in 1859. _The Abbotsford Club_ was founded in honour of Sir Walter Scott in 1834, by Mr. W.B.D.D. Turnbull. The first book (issued in 1835) was a volume of "Ancient Mysteries from the Digby MS."; "Arthur and Merlin, a Metrical Romance," was printed in 1838; "Romances of Sir Guy of Warwick and Rembrun his Son," in 1840; "The Legend of St. Katherine of Alexandra," in 1841; "Sir Degaree, a Metrical Romance of the end of the nineteenth century," in 1849. The Club was closed in 1866. These Printing Clubs were select in their constitution, and the books being printed for the members in small numbers, they are difficult to obtain and their price is high. With the foundation of the Camden Society an entirely new system was adopted, and the general body of book lovers, poor as well as rich, were appealed to with great success, and valuable books were supplied to the subscribers at a price which would have been impossible without such means. The Camden Society is entitled to this honour on account of the general interest of its publications, but the Surtees Society was actually the first to inaugurate the new system. The subscription fixed was double that which the founders of the Camden Society adopted, but it was, perhaps, a bolder step to start a Society, appealing to a somewhat restricted public with a two guinea subscription, than to appeal to the whole reading public with a subscription of one pound. Before saying more of the Surtees and Camden Societies, it will be necessary to mention some other printing clubs which preceded them. _The Oriental Translation Fund_ was established in 1828, with the object of publishing Translations from Eastern MSS. into the languages of Europe. When the issue of books was discontinued, the stock of such books as remained was sold off, and many of these can still be obtained at a cheap rate. _The Iona Club_ was instituted in 1833, for the purpose of investigating the History, Antiquities, and early Literature of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, but little has been done in the way of publication. The first book was "Collectanea de Rebus Albanicis," and the second, "Transactions of the Club," vol. i. in 4 parts. A second volume was announced, but never appeared. _The Surtees Society_ was founded at Durham in 1834 for the publication of inedited Manuscripts, illustrative of the moral, the intellectual, the religious, and the social condition of those parts of England and Scotland included on the East, between the Humber and the Frith of Forth, and on the west, between the Mersey and the Clyde, a region which constituted the ancient kingdom of Northumberland. The Society is named after Robert Surtees, of Mainforth, author of the "History of the County Palatine of Durham." Although founded more than fifty years ago, the Society is still flourishing, and carried on with the same vigour as of old. The series of publications is a long one, and contains a large number of most important works. The second book issued was "Wills and Inventories, illustrative of the History, Manners, Language, Statistics, etc., of the Northern Counties of England, from the Eleventh Century downwards" (Part 2 was issued in 1860); the third, "The Towneley Mysteries or Miracle Plays"; the fourth, "Testamenta Eboracensia: Wills illustrative of the History, Manners, Language, Statistics, etc., of the Province of York, from 1300" (vol. 1). The second volume of this series was issued in 1855. "Anglo-Saxon and Early English Psalter" was issued in 1843-44 (2 vols.); "The Durham Household Book; or, the Accounts of the Bursar of the Monastery of Durham, from 1530 to 1534," in 1844. _The Camden Society_, instituted in 1838, has issued to its subscribers a large number of books of the greatest interest on historical and literary subjects. The set of publications is so well known that it is not necessary to enumerate titles here. Among the most valuable are the several volumes devoted to the correspondence of certain old families, such as the "Plumpton Correspondence" (1839), "Egerton Papers" (1840), "Rutland Papers" (1842), and "Savile Correspondence" (1858). The Romances and Chronicles must also be mentioned, and the remarkable edition of the oldest English Dictionary, "Promptorium Parvulorum," which was fully and learnedly edited by the late Mr. Albert Way. A second series was commenced in 1871, which is still continued. The same year which saw the foundation of the Camden Society also gave birth to _The English Historical Society_. Sixteen works of considerable value were issued, but the greatest of these is the grand "Codex Diplomaticus Ævi Saxonici" of the late J. Mitchell Kemble (1845-48). _The Spalding Club_, named after John Spalding, Commissary Clerk of Aberdeen, and founded at Aberdeen in 1839 for the printing of the Historical, Ecclesiastical, Genealogical, Topographical, and Literary Remains of the North-Eastern Counties of Scotland, was formed on the model of the exclusive clubs; but being affected by the more democratic constitution of the later printing societies, its subscription was fixed at one guinea. Amongst the most interesting of the Club's publications are the "Sculptured Stones of Scotland" (1856), "Barbour's Brus" (1856), and the "Fasti Aberdonensis: Selections from the Records of the University and King's College of Aberdeen from 1494 to 1854" (1854). The year 1840 saw the foundation of three very important Societies, viz. the Parker, the Percy, and the Shakespeare. _The Parker Society_ took its name from the famous Archbishop of Canterbury, Martin Parker, and its objects were (1) the reprinting, without abridgment, alteration or omission, of the best works of the Fathers and early Writers of the Reformed English Church published in the period between the accession of Edward VI. and Queen Elizabeth; (2) the printing of such works of other writers of the Sixteenth Century as may appear desirable (including under both classes some of the early English Translations of the Foreign Reformers), and (3) the printing of some MSS. of the same authors hitherto unpublished. The Society was an enormous success, and at one time the list contained seven thousand members; but owing to the multitude of copies printed, and the somewhat dry character of the books themselves, many of them can now be obtained at a ridiculously small sum, the price of a complete set usually averaging little more than a shilling a volume. When the series was completed, a valuable General Index to the whole was compiled by Mr. Henry Gough, 1855. _The Percy Society_ took its name from Bishop Percy, author of the "Reliques of Ancient English Poetry" (born 1729, died 1811), and was founded for the purpose of bringing to light important but obscure specimens of Ballad Poetry, or Works illustrative of that department of Literature. The Society was dissolved in 1853, but during the thirteen years of its existence it produced a singularly interesting series of publications. The number of separate works registered in Bohn's Appendix to Lowndes's Bibliographer's Manual is 94, besides "Quippes for Upstart Newfangled Gentlewomen by Stephen Gosson," which was suppressed, and "Rhyming Satire on the Pride and Vices of Women Now-a-days, by Charles Bansley," 1540, which was reprinted in 1841, but not issued. The set is much sought after, and fetches a good price. _The Shakespeare Society_ was founded in 1840, to print books illustrative of Shakespeare and of the literature of his time, and a very valuable collection of works was issued to the subscribers during the term of its existence. It was dissolved in 1853, and the remaining stock was made up into volumes and sold off. There was much for the Society still to do; but the controversy arising out of the discovery of the forgeries connected with John Payne Collier's name made it difficult for the Shakespearians to work together with harmony. In this same year the _Musical Antiquarian Society_ was founded, and during the seven years of its existence it issued books of Madrigals, Operas, Songs, Anthems, etc., by early English composers. In the following year (1841), the _Motett Society_ was founded for the publication of Ancient Church Music. Five parts only, edited by Dr. Rimbault, were issued. In 1841 the _Society for the Publication of Oriental Texts_ was founded, and a series of works in Syriac, Arabic, Sanscrit, and Persian was distributed to the subscribers until 1851, when the Society was dissolved. _The Wodrow Society_ was instituted in Edinburgh in 1841, for the publication of the early writers of the Reformed Church of Scotland, and named after the Rev. Robert Wodrow. Among its publications are, "Autobiography and Diary of James Melvill," "Correspondence of the Rev. R. Wodrow" (3 vols.), "History of the Reformation in Scotland, by John Knox" (2 vols.). The Society was dissolved in 1848. _The Ælfric Society_ was founded in 1842 for the publication of those Anglo-Saxon and other literary monuments, both civil and ecclesiastical, tending to illustrate the early state of England. The publications, which were not numerous, were edited by Benjamin Thorpe and J.M. Kemble, and the Society was discontinued in 1856. _The Chetham Society_, founded at Manchester in 1843, for the publication of Historical and Literary remains connected with the Palatine Counties of Lancaster and Chester, was named after Humphrey Chetham (born 1580, died 1653). The Society, which still flourishes, has now produced a very long series of important works, and the volumes, which are not often met with, keep up their price well. _The Sydenham Society_ for reprinting Standard English Works in Medical Literature, and for the Translation of Foreign Authors, with notes, was founded in 1843. After printing a number of important works, the Society was dissolved in 1858, and was succeeded by _The New Sydenham Society_. _The Spottiswoode Society_ was founded at Edinburgh in 1843, for the revival and publication of the acknowledged works of the Bishops, Clergy, and Laity of the Episcopal Church of Scotland, and rare, authentic, and curious MSS., Pamphlets and other Works illustrative of the Civil and Ecclesiastical State of Scotland. It takes its name from John Spottiswoode, the first duly consecrated Scottish Archbishop after the Reformation (born 1566, died 1639.) The late Mr. Hill Burton gives an amusing account of the foundation of this Society in his delightful _Book-Hunter_. He writes: "When it was proposed to establish an institution for reprinting the works of the fathers of the Episcopal Church in Scotland, it was naturally deemed that no more worthy or characteristic name could be attached to it than that of the venerable prelate, who by his learning and virtues had so long adorned the Episcopal Chair of Moray and Ross [Robert Jolly], and who had shown a special interest in the department of literature to which the institution was to be devoted. Hence it came to pass that, through a perfectly natural process, the Association for the purpose of reprinting the works of certain old divines was to be ushered into the world by the style and title of the JOLLY CLUB. There happened to be amongst those concerned, however, certain persons so corrupted with the wisdom of this world, as to apprehend that the miscellaneous public might fail to trace this designation to its true origin, and might indeed totally mistake the nature and object of the institution, attributing to it aims neither consistent with the ascetic life of the departed prelate, nor with the pious and intellectual object of its founders. The counsels of these worldly-minded persons prevailed. The Jolly Club was never instituted,--at least as an association for the reprinting of old books of divinity,--though I am not prepared to say that institutions, more than one so designed may not exist for other purposes. The object, however, was not entirely abandoned. A body of gentlemen united themselves together under the name of another Scottish prelate, whose fate had been more distinguished, if not more fortunate, and the Spottiswoode Society was established. Here, it will be observed, there was a passing to the opposite extreme, and so intense seems to have been the anxiety to escape from all excuse for indecorous jokes or taint of joviality, that the word Club, wisely adopted by other bodies of the same kind, was abandoned, and this one called itself a Society." The publications were discontinued about 1851. _The Calvin Translation Society_ was established at Edinburgh in 1843, and its work was completed in 1855, by the publication of twenty-two Commentaries, etc., of the great reformer in fifty-two volumes. _The Ray Society_ was founded in 1844 for the publication of works on Natural History (Zoology and Botany), and a large number of valuable books, fully illustrated, have been produced, many of them translations from foreign works. Many of the later publications are more elaborately coloured than the earlier ones. _The Wernerian Club_ was instituted in 1844 for the republication of standard works of Scientific Authors of old date. _The Handel Society_ was founded at London in 1844, for the purpose of printing the Works of Handel in full score. Sixteen volumes were issued, and in 1858 the Society was dissolved, the German Handel Society resuming the publication. _The Hanserd Knollys Society_ was instituted in 1845 for the publication of the works of early English and other Baptist writers, and one of these was an edition of Bunyan's Pilgrim Progress from the text of the first edition. The Society was dissolved about 1851. _The Caxton Society_ was instituted in 1845 for the publication of Chronicles and other writings hitherto unpublished, illustrative of the history and miscellaneous literature of the middle ages. This Society was formed on a somewhat original basis. The members were to pay no annual subscription, but they engaged to purchase one copy of all books published by the Society. The expense of printing and publishing to be defrayed out of the proceeds of the sale, and the money remaining over to be paid to the editors. _The Cavendish Society_ was instituted in 1846 for the promotion of Chemical Science by the translation and publication of valuable works and papers on Chemistry not likely to be undertaken by ordinary publishers. During its last years the Society existed for the publication of Gmelin's voluminous "Handbook of Chemistry," and when this work was completed, with a general Index, the Society ceased to exist. _The Ecclesiastical History Society_ was instituted in 1846, and one of its early publications was the first volume of Wood's "Athenæ Oxoniensis," edited by Dr. Bliss, but this only contained the life of Anthony Wood himself. The Society was dissolved in 1854, after publishing the Book of Common Prayer according to a MS. in the Rolls Office, Dublin (3 vols.), and sundry other works. _The Hakluyt Society_, named after Richard Hakluyt (born 1553, died 1616), was founded at the end of 1846 for the purpose of printing the most rare and valuable Voyages, Travels and Geographical Records, from an early period of exploratory enterprise to the circumnavigation of Dampier. The first two volumes ("Sir Richard Hawkins's Voyage into the South Sea, 1593," and "Select Letters of Columbus") were issued in 1847, and the Society still flourishes. Between 1847 and 1885 the Society has presented to its members an important series of books of travel, at the rate of about two volumes a year for an annual subscription of one guinea. _The Palæontographical Society_ was founded in 1847 for the purpose of figuring and describing a stratigraphical series of British Fossils. The annual volumes consist of portions of works by the most eminent palæontologists, and these works are completed as soon as circumstances allow, but several of them are still incomplete. _The Arundel Society_ is so important an institution that it cannot be passed over in silence, although, as the publications chiefly consist of engravings, chromolithographs, etc., it scarcely comes within the scope of this chapter. The Society takes its name from Thomas Howard Earl of Arundel, in the reigns of James I. and Charles I., who has been styled the "Father of _vertu_ in England." It was founded in 1849, and its purpose is to diffuse more widely, by means of suitable publications, a knowledge both of the history and true principles of Painting, Sculpture, and the higher forms of ornamental design, to call attention to such masterpieces of the arts as are unduly neglected, and to secure some transcript or memorial of those which are perishing from ill-treatment or decay. The publications of the Society have been very successful, and many of them cannot now be obtained. Most of the societies above described have appealed to a large public, and endeavoured to obtain a large amount of public support; but in 1853 was formed an exclusive society, with somewhat the same objects as the Roxburghe Club. _The Philobiblon Society_ was instituted chiefly through the endeavours of Mr. R. Monckton Milnes (the late Lord Houghton) and the late Mons. Sylvain Van de Weyer. The number of members was at first fixed at thirty-five, but was raised in 1857 to forty, including the patron and honorary secretaries. The publications consist chiefly of a series of Bibliographical and Historical Miscellanies, contributed by the members, which fill several volumes. Besides these there are "The Expedition to the Isle of Rhe by Lord Herbert of Cherbury," edited and presented to the members by the Earl of Powis; "Inventaire de tous les meubles du Cardinal Mazarin," edited and presented by H.R.H. the Duke d'Aumale; "Memoires de la Cour d'Espagne sous la regne de Charles II., 1678-82," edited and presented by William Stirling (afterwards Sir William Stirling Maxwell); "The Biography and Bibliography of Shakespeare," compiled and presented by Henry G. Bohn; "Analyse des Travaux de la Société des Philobiblon de Londres," par Octave Delepierre. _The Ossianic Society_ was instituted at Dublin in 1853 for the preservation and publication of manuscripts in the Irish Language, illustrative of the Fenian period of Irish history, etc., with literal translations and notes. _The Warton Club_ was instituted in 1854 and issued four volumes, after which it was dissolved. _The Manx Society_ was instituted at Douglas, Isle of Man, in 1858, for the publication of National Documents of the Isle of Man. All the Societies mentioned above are registered in Henry Bohn's Appendix to Lowndes's Bibliographer's Manual, and lists of the publications up to 1864 are there given. Most of them are also described in Hume's "Learned Societies and Printing Clubs of the United Kingdom" (1853). Since, however, the publication of these two books, a considerable number of important Printing Societies have been formed, and of these a list is not readily obtainable, except by direct application to the respective Secretaries. The newly printed General Catalogue of the British Museum in the Reading Room however contains a full list of the publications of the various Societies under the heading of _Academies_. The foundation of the _Early English Text Society_ in 1864 caused a renewed interest to be taken in the publications of the Printing Clubs. The origin of the Society was in this wise. When the Philological Society undertook the formation of a great English Dictionary, the want of printed copies of some of the chief monuments of the language was keenly felt. Mr. F.J. Furnivall, with his usual energy, determined to supply the want, and induced the Council of the Philological Society to produce some valuable texts. It was found, however, that these publications exhausted much of the funds of the Society, which was required for the printing of the papers read at the ordinary meetings, so that it became necessary to discontinue them. Mr. Furnivall, then, in conjunction with certain members of the Philological Society, founded the Early English Text Society. The Society possessed the inestimable advantage of having among its founders Mr. Richard Morris (afterwards the Rev. Dr. Morris), who entered with fervour into the scheme, and produced a large amount of magnificent work for the Society. Dr. Furnivall put the objects of the Society forward very tersely when he said that none of us should rest "till Englishmen shall be able to say of their early literature what the Germans can now say with pride of theirs--'every word of it is printed, and every word of it is glossed.'" The Society prospered, and in 1867 an Extra Series was started, in which were included books that had already been printed, but were difficult to obtain from their rarity and price. One hundred and twenty-six volumes have been issued between 1864 and 1884, eighty-two volumes of the Original Series and forty-four of the Extra Series, and there can be no doubt that the publications of the Society have had an immense influence in fostering the study of the English language. The prefaces and glossaries given with each work contain an amount of valuable information not elsewhere to be obtained. These books throw light upon the growth of the language, and place within the reach of a large number of readers works of great interest in the literature of the country. The greatest work undertaken by the Society is the remarkable edition of "William's Vision of Piers the Plowman," which Prof. Skeat has produced with an expenditure of great labour during nearly twenty years. The last part, containing elaborate notes and glossary, was issued in 1884. The subjects treated of are very various. There is a fair sprinkling of Romances, which will always be amongst the most interesting of a Society's publications. Manners and Customs are largely illustrated in a fair proportion of the Texts, as also are questions of Social and Political History. Perhaps the least interesting to the general reader are the Theological Texts, which are numerous, but the writers of these were thoroughly imbued with the spirit of their times, and although they are apt to be prosy, they are pretty sure to introduce some quaint bits which compensate for a considerable amount of dulness. These books help us to form a correct idea of the beliefs of our forefathers, and to disabuse our minds of many mistaken views which we have learnt from more popular but less accurate sources. _The Ballad Society_ grew out of the publication, by special subscription, of Bishop Percy's Folio Manuscript, edited by F.J. Furnivall and J.W. Hales. This was issued in connection with the Early English Text Society (but not as one of its Texts), through the energy of Mr. Furnivall, who had many difficulties to overcome before he was able to get permission to print the manuscript, which had been very faithfully guarded from the eyes of critics. He had to pay for the privilege, and in the end the old volume was sold to the nation, and it now reposes among the treasures of the British Museum. When this useful work was completed, Mr. Furnivall was anxious to follow it by a reprint of all the known collections of Ballads, such as the Roxburghe, Bagford, Rawlinson, Douce, etc., and for this purpose he started the Ballad Society in 1868. He himself edited some particularly interesting "Ballads from Manuscripts," and an elaborate account of Captain Cox's Ballads and Books in a new edition of Robert Laneham's Letter on the Entertainment at Kenilworth in 1575. The veteran Ballad illustrator, Mr. William Chappell, undertook to edit the "Roxburghe Ballads," and produced nine parts, when the Rev. J.W. Ebsworth took the work off his hands. Mr. Ebsworth had previously reproduced the "Bagford Ballads," and he is now the editor-in-chief of the Society. The following is a short list of the publications of the Society: Nos. 1, 2, 3, 10, "Ballads from Manuscripts"; Nos. 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 12, 13, 18, 19. "The Roxburghe Ballads," edited by Wm. Chappell; No. 7, "Captain Cox, his Ballads and Books"; No. 11, "Love Poems and Humourous Ones"; Nos. 14, 15, 16, 17, "The Bagford Ballads." No. 20, "The Amanda Group of Bagford Ballads;" Nos. 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, "The Roxburghe Ballads," edited by the Rev. J.W. Ebsworth. No. 26 completes the fifth volume of the "Roxburghe Ballads." There are two more volumes to come, and then Mr. Ebsworth will undertake "The Civil War and Protectorate Ballads." Much of the work on these volumes is done, and they only await an increase in the subscription list. It is to be hoped that when the good work done by the Ballad Society is better known, the editor will not be kept back in his useful course by the want of funds for printing. Mr. Ebsworth's thorough work is too well known to need praise here, but it may be noted that his volumes contain a remarkable amount of illustration of the manners of the time not to be obtained elsewhere. The value of this is the more apparent by the system of arrangement in marked periods which the editor has adopted. _The Chaucer Society_ was founded in 1868 by Mr. Furnivall, "to do honour to Chaucer, and to let the lovers and students of him see how far the best unprinted Manuscripts of his Works differed from the printed texts." For the Canterbury Tales, Mr. Furnivall has printed the six best unprinted MSS. in two forms--(1) in large oblong parts, giving the parallel texts; (2) in octavo, each text separately. The six manuscripts chosen are--The Ellesmere; The Lansdowne (Brit. Mus.); The Hengwrt; The Corpus, Oxford; The Cambridge (University Library); The Petworth. Dr. Furnivall has now added Harleian 7334 to complete the series. The Society's publications are issued in two series, of which the first contains the different Texts of Chaucer's Works, and the second such originals of and essays on these as can be procured, with other illustrative treatises and Supplementary Tales. _The Spenser Society_ was founded at Manchester in 1867 for the publication of well-printed editions of old English authors in limited numbers. The chief publication issued to subscribers was a reprint, in three volumes folio, of the works of John Taylor, the Water-poet, from the original folio. The other publications are in small quarto, and among them are the works of John Taylor not included in the folio, the works of Wither, etc. _The Roxburghe Library_ was a subscription series, commenced by Mr. W. Carew Hazlitt in 1868, with the same objects as a publishing society. It was discontinued in 1870. The following is a list of the publications:--"Romance of Paris and Vienne"; "William Browne's Complete Works," 2 vols.; "Inedited Tracts of the 16th and 17th Centuries (1579-1618)"; "The English Drama and Stage under the Tudor and Stuart Princes, 1543-1664"; "George Gascoigne's Complete Poems," 2 vols.; "Thomas Carew's Poems." _The Harleian Society_ was founded in 1869. Their chief publication has been the late Colonel Chester's magnificently edited Registers of Westminster Abbey. Other Registers published are those of St. Peter's, Cornhill; St. Dionis Backchurch; St. Mary Aldermary; St. Thomas the Apostle; St. Michael, Cornhill; St. Antholin, Budge Lane; and St. John the Baptist, on Wallbrook. Of the other publications there are Visitations of Bedfordshire, Cheshire, Cornwall, Cumberland, Devon, Essex, Leicestershire, London 1568, 1633, Nottingham, Oxford, Rutland, Somersetshire, Warwickshire, and Yorkshire, and Le Neve's Catalogue of Knights. _The Hunterian Club_ was founded at Glasgow in 1871, and named after the Hunterian Library in the University. Among the publications of the Club are a Series of Tracts by Thomas Lodge and Samuel Rowlands; the Poetical Works of Alexander Craig; Poetical Works of Patrick Hannay; Sir T. Overburie's Vision by Richard Niccols, 1616. The printing of the famous Bannatyne Manuscript, compiled by George Bannatyne, 1568, was commenced by the Society in 1873, and the seventh part, which completed this invaluable collection of Scottish Poetry, was issued in 1881. _The Folk Lore Society_ was founded by the late Mr. W.J. Thoms (inventor of the term Folk Lore) in 1878, and during the seven years of its existence it has done much valuable work, chiefly through the energetic direction of Mr. G.L. Gomme, the Hon. Sec. (now Director). The object of the Society is stated to be "the preservation and publication of Popular Traditions, Legendary Ballads, Local Proverbial Sayings, Superstitions and Old Customs (British and Foreign), and all subjects relating to them." The principal publication of the Society, the _Folk Lore Record_, now the _Folk Lore Journal_, was at first issued in volumes, and afterwards in monthly numbers. It is now a quarterly. The other publications are:--Henderson's Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders, a new edition; Aubrey's Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme; Gregor's Notes on the Folk-Lore of the North-east of Scotland; Comparetti's Book of Sindibad and Pedroso's Portuguese Folk Tales; Black's Folk Medicine; Callaway's Religious System of the Amazulu. The year 1873 saw the formation of several publishing Societies. _The New Shakspere Society_ was founded by Dr. F.J. Furnivall, for the reading of papers, which have been published in a Series of Transactions, and also for the publication of collations of the Quarto Plays, and works illustrating the great Dramatist's times. Among the latter works are Harrison's Description of England, Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, Dr. Ingleby's Shakespeare's Centurie of Prayse, etc. _The English Dialect Society_ was founded at Cambridge by the Rev. Professor Skeat. Its objects are stated to be (1) to bring together all those who have made a study of any of the Provincial Dialects of England, or who are interested in the subject of Provincial English; (2) to combine the labours of collectors of Provincial English words by providing a common centre to which they may be sent, so as to gather material for a general record of all such words; (3) to publish (subject to proper revision) such collections of Provincial English words that exist at present only in manuscript; as well as to reprint such Glossaries of provincial words as are not generally accessible, or are inserted in books of which the main part relates to other subjects; and (4) to supply references to sources of information which may be of material assistance to word-collectors, students, and all who have a general or particular interest in the subject. The publications are arranged under the following Series: A, Bibliographical; B, Reprinted Glossaries; C, Original Glossaries; D, Miscellaneous. In 1875 the Society was transferred to Manchester, and Mr. J.H. Nodal became Honorary Secretary. _The Palæographical Society_ was formed for the purpose of reproducing Specimens of Manuscripts, and it has produced a Series of Facsimiles of Ancient Manuscripts, edited by E.A. Bond and E.M. Thompson, Part 1 being issued in 1873. At the end of the year 1877 _The Index Society_ was founded for the purpose of producing (1) Indexes of Standard Works; (2) Subject Indexes of Science, Literature and Art; and (3) a General Reference Index. The publications were commenced in 1878, and the First Annual Meeting was held in March, 1879, the Earl of Carnarvon being the first President. The first publication was "What is an Index?" by H.B. Wheatley. Among the important books issued by the Society may be mentioned Solly's "Index of Hereditary Titles of Honour"; Daydon Jackson's "Guide to the Literature of Botany" and "Literature of Vegetable Technology," and Rye's "Index of Norfolk Topography." The _Society for the Promotion of Hellenic Studies_ was founded in 1879 for the following objects: (1) To advance the study of the Greek language, literature, and art, and to illustrate the history of the Greek race in the ancient, Byzantine, and Neo-Hellenic periods, by the publication of memoirs and inedited documents or monuments in a Journal to be issued periodically. (2) To collect drawings, facsimiles, transcripts, plans, and photographs of Greek inscriptions, MSS., works of art, ancient sites and remains, and with this view to invite travellers to communicate to the Society notes or sketches of archæological and topographical interest. (3) To organise means by which members of the Society may have increased facilities for visiting ancient sites and pursuing archæological researches in countries which, at any time, have been the sites of Hellenic civilization. Five volumes of the _Journal_ have been issued. _The Topographical Society of London_ was formed in 1880. The Inaugural Meeting was held at the Mansion House, and the first Annual Meeting at Drapers' Hall on Feb. 3, 1882, with the Lord Mayor (Sir John Whitaker Ellis), President, in the chair. The following reproductions have been issued to subscribers:--Van der Wyngaerde's View of London, ab. 1550, 7 sheets; Braun & Hogenberg's Plan of London, 1 sheet; Visscher's View of London, 4 sheets. _The Browning Society_ was founded by Dr. Furnivall in 1881, and besides papers read at the meetings, the Society has issued Dr. Furnivall's "Bibliography of Browning." _The Wyclif Society_ was founded also by Dr. Furnivall in 1882, for the publication of the complete works of the great Reformer. _The Pipe Roll Society_ was established in 1883, and in 1885 the first three volumes of its publications have been issued to the members. These are--Vol. 1, Pipe Rolls, 5 Hen. II.; Vol. 2, 6 Hen. II.; Vol. 3, Introduction. _The Oxford Historical Society_ was formed in 1884, and four handsome volumes have been issued for that year and 1885. These are--1, "Register of the University of Oxford" (vol. 1, 1449-63, 1505-71), edited by the Rev. C.W. Boase; 2, "Remarks and Collections of Thomas Hearne" (vol. 1, July 4, 1705-March 19, 1707), edited by C.E. Doble, M.A. Both these volumes are supplied with temporary Indexes. 3, "The Early History of Oxford, 727-1100," by James Parker; 4, "Memories of Merton College," by the Hon. George C. Brodrick; 5, "Collectanea." First Series. Edited by C.R.L. Fletcher. _The Middlesex County Record Society_ was formed in 1885 "for the purpose of publishing the more interesting portions of the old County Records of Middlesex, which have lately been arranged and calendared by order of the Justices." Nothing has been published as yet, but Mr. Cordy Jeaffreson is engaged upon the first two volumes, one of which will be issued shortly. The Rev. Dr. A.B. Grosart has himself printed by subscription more works of our Old Writers than many a Society, and therefore it is necessary to mention his labours here, although a complete list of them cannot be given. The chief series are: "The Fuller Worthies Library," 39 volumes; "The Chertsey Worthies Library," 14 vols. 4to., and "The Huth Library." CHAPTER VIII. CHILD'S LIBRARY. The idea of a Child's Library is to a great extent modern, and it is not altogether clear that it is a good one, except in the case of those children who have no books of their own. It is far better that each child should have his own good books, which he can read over and over again, thus thoroughly mastering their contents. It is a rather wide-spread notion that there is some sort of virtue in reading for reading's sake, although really a reading boy may be an idle boy. When a book is read, it should be well thought over before another is begun, for reading without thought generates no ideas. One advantage of a Child's Library should be that the reader is necessarily forced to be careful, so as to return the books uninjured. This is a very important point, for children should be taught from their earliest years to treat books well, and not to destroy them as they often do. We might go farther than this and say that children should be taught at school how to handle a book. It is really astonishing to see how few persons (not necessarily children) among those who have not grown up among books know how to handle them. It is positive torture to a man who loves books to see the way they are ordinarily treated. Of course it is not necessary to mention the crimes of wetting the fingers to turn over the leaves, or turning down pages to mark the place; but those who ought to know better will turn a book over on its face at the place where they have left off reading, or will turn over pages so carelessly that they give a crease to each which will never come out. For a healthy education it is probably best that a child should have the run of a library for adults (always provided that dangerous books are carefully excluded). A boy is much more likely to enjoy and find benefit from the books he selects himself than from those selected for him. The circumstances of the child should be considered in the selection of books; thus it is scarcely fair when children are working hard at school all day that they should be made to read so-called instructive books in the evening. They have earned the right to relaxation and should be allowed good novels. To some boys books of Travels and History are more acceptable than novels, but all children require some Fiction, and, save in a few exceptional cases, their imaginations require to be cultivated. It will soon be seen whether children have healthy or unhealthy tastes. If healthy, they are best left to themselves; if unhealthy, they must be directed. It is easy for the seniors to neglect the children they have under them, and it is easy to direct them overmuch, but it is difficult to watch and yet let the children go their own way. We are apt, in arranging for others, to be too instructive; nothing is less acceptable to children or less likely to do them good than to be preached at. Moral reflections in books are usually skipped by children, and unless somewhat out of the common, probably by grown-up persons as well. Instruction should grow naturally out of the theme itself, and form an integral part of it, so that high aims and noble thoughts may naturally present themselves to the readers. One of the chapters in the United States Libraries' Report is on "School and Asylum Libraries" (pp. 38-59), in which we are informed that New York was the pioneer in founding school libraries. "In 1827 Governor De Witt Clinton, in his message to the legislature, recommended their formation; but it was not till 1835 that the friends of free schools saw their hopes realized in the passage of a law which permitted the voters in any school district to levy a tax of $20 to begin a library, and a tax of $10 each succeeding year to provide for its increase." Another chapter in the same Report is on "Public Libraries and the Young" (pp. 412-418), in which Mr. Wm. J. Fletcher advocates the use of the library as an addition to the school course. He writes, "It only remains now to say that, as we have before intimated, the public library should be viewed as an adjunct of the public school system, and to suggest that in one or two ways the school may work together with the library in directing the reading of the young. There is the matter of themes for the writing of compositions; by selecting subjects on which information can be had at the library, the teacher can send the pupil to the library as a student, and readily put him in communication with, and excite his interest in, classes of books to which he has been a stranger and indifferent." A very interesting book on this subject is entitled "Libraries and Schools. Papers selected by Samuel S. Green. New York (F. Leypoldt), 1883." It contains the following subjects: "The Public Library and the Public Schools;" "The Relation of the Public Library to the Public Schools"; "Libraries as Educational Institutions"; "The Public Library as an Auxiliary to the Public Schools"; "The Relation of Libraries to the School System"; and "A Plan of Systematic Training in Reading at School." "_Books for the Young, a Guide for Parents and Children._ Compiled by C. M. Hewins. New York (F. Leypoldt), 1882," is an extremely useful little book. It contains a valuable list of books arranged in classes. Certain marks are used to indicate the character of the books, thus the letter (_c_) indicates that the book is especially suitable for children under ten, (_b_) that it is especially suitable for boys, and (_g_) that it is especially suitable for girls. Prefixed are eight sensible rules as to how to teach the right use of books. Perkins's "Best Reading" contains a good list of books for children (pp. 299-303). The children's books of the present day are so beautifully produced that the elders are naturally induced to exclaim, "We never had such books as these," but probably we enjoyed our books as well as our children do theirs. What a thrill of pleasure the middle-aged man feels when a book which amused his childhood comes in his way: this, however, is seldom, for time has laid his decaying hand upon them-- "All, all are gone, the old familiar faces." The children for whom Miss Kate Greenaway and Mr. Caldecott draw and Mrs. Gatty and Mrs. Ewing wrote are indeed fortunate, but we must not forget that Charles and Mary Lamb wrote delightful books for the young, that Miss Edgeworth's stories are ever fresh, and that one of the most charming children's stories ever written is Mrs. Sherwood's _Little Woodman_. A short list of a Child's Library is quoted in the _Library Journal_ (vol. viii. p. 57) from the _Woman's Journal_. The family for whom it was chosen consisted of children from three to twelve, the two eldest being girls. The books are mostly American, and but little known in this country-- Snow-bound. Illustrated. Whittier. Life of Longfellow. Kennedy. A Summer in the Azores. Baker. Among the Isles of Shoals. Celia Thaxter. The boys of '76. Coffin. The boys of '61. Coffin. Story of our Country. Higginson. Sir Walter Raleigh. Towle. Child's History of England. Dickens. Tales from Shakespear. Lamb. Tales from Homer. Church. The Wonder-book. Illustrated. Hawthorne. Young folks' book of poetry. Campbell. Poetry for childhood. Eliot. Bits of talk about home matters. H.H. The Seven Little Sisters. Andrews. Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates. Dodge. Room for one more. Mary T. Higginson. King Arthur for boys. Lanier. Doings of the Bodley family. Scudder. Mother-play and Nursery-rhymes. Children's Robinson Crusoe. The four-footed lovers. Mammy Tittleback and her family. H.H. The Little Prudy books. Six volumes. The editor of the _Library Journal_ remarks on the list, "Guest's Lectures on English History is better than Dickens's, and the 'Prudy' children are so mischievous, so full of young Americanisms, and so far from being 'wells of English undefiled,' that they are not always good companions for boys and girls. I have known a child's English spoiled by reading the Prudy books." Some of the old-fashioned children's books have been reprinted, and these will generally be found very acceptable to healthy-minded children, but some of the old books are not easily met with. No Child's Library should be without a good collection of Fairy Tales, a careful selection of the Arabian Nights, or Robinson Crusoe. Gulliver's Travels is very unsuited for children, although often treated as a child's book. Berquin's _Children's Friend_, Edgeworth's _Parent's Assistant_ and the Aikins's _Evenings at Home_, will surely still amuse children, although some may think their teaching too didactic. It is only by practical experience that we can tell what children will like. _Sandford and Merton_ is, I believe, usually considered as hopelessly out of date, but I have found young hearers follow my reading of it with the greatest interest. _The Pilgrim's Progress_ will always have as great a fascination for the young as it must have for their elders; but there is much preaching in it which must be skipped, or the attention of the hearers will flag. CHAPTER IX. ONE HUNDRED BOOKS. In the Fourth Chapter of this Volume two lists of selected books are given, viz. The Comtist's Library, and a list of one hundred good novels. Since that chapter was written and printed, much public attention has been drawn to this branch of our subject by the publication of Sir John Lubbock's list of books which he recommended to the members of the Working Men's College, when he lectured at that place on "Books." The comments by eminent men, which have appeared in the _Pall Mall Gazette_, have also attracted attention, and it seems desirable that some note on this list should appear in these pages. The list issued by the _Pall Mall Gazette_ is as follows: NON-CHRISTIAN MORALISTS. Marcus Aurelius, _Meditations_. Epictetus, _Encheiridion_. Confucius, _Analects_. Aristotle, _Ethics_. Mahomet, _Koran_. THEOLOGY AND DEVOTION. Apostolic Fathers, _Wake's Collection_. St. Augustine, _Confessions_. Thomas à Kempis, _Imitation_ Pascal, _Pensées_. Spinoza, _Tractatus Theologico-Politicus_. Butler, _Analogy_. Jeremy Taylor, _Holy Living and Holy Dying_. Keble, _Christian Year_. Bunyan, _Pilgrim's Progress_. CLASSICS. Aristotle, _Politics_. Plato, _Phædo_ and _Republic_. Æsop, _Fables_. Demosthenes, _De Coronâ_. Lucretius. Plutarch. Horace. Cicero, _De Officiis_, _De Amicitiâ_, and _De Senectute_. EPIC POETRY. Homer, _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_. Hesiod. Virgil. Niebelungenlied. Malory, _Morte d'Arthur_. EASTERN POETRY. _Mahabharata_ and _Ramayana_ (epitomised by Talboys Wheeler). Firdausi, _Shah-nameh_ (translated by Atkinson). _She-king_ (Chinese Odes). GREEK DRAMATISTS. Æschylus, _Prometheus_, _The House of Atreus_, Trilogy, or _Persæ_. Sophocles, _OEdipus_, Trilogy. Euripides, _Medea_. Aristophanes, _The Knights_. HISTORY. Herodotus. Thucydides. Xenophon, _Anabasis_. Tacitus, _Germania_. Gibbon, _Decline and Fall_. Voltaire, _Charles XII._ or _Louis XIV._ Hume, _England_. Grote, _Greece_. PHILOSOPHY. Bacon, _Novum Organum_. Mill, _Logic_ and _Political Economy_. Darwin, _Origin of Species_. Smith, _Wealth of Nations_ (selection). Berkeley, _Human Knowledge_. Descartes, _Discourse sur la Méthode_. Locke, _Conduct of the Understanding_. Lewes, _History of Philosophy_. TRAVELS. Cook, _Voyages_. Darwin, _Naturalist in the Beagle_. POETRY AND GENERAL LITERATURE. Shakspeare. Milton. Dante. Spenser. Scott. Wordsworth. Pope. Southey. Longfellow. Goldsmith, _Vicar of Wakefield_. Swift, _Gulliver's Travels_. Defoe, _Robinson Crusoe_. _The Arabian Nights._ _Don Quixote._ Boswell, _Johnson_. Burke, _Select Works_. Essayists--Addison, Hume, Montaigne, Macaulay, Emerson. Molière. Sheridan. Carlyle, _Past and Present_ and _French Revolution_. Goethe, _Faust_ and _Wilhelm Meister_. Marivaux, _La Vie de Marianne_. MODERN FICTION. Selections from--Thackeray, Dickens, George Eliot, Kingsley, Scott, Bulwer-Lytton. It must be borne in mind by the reader that this list, although the one sent round for criticism by the editor of the _Pall Mall Gazette_, is not really Sir John Lubbock's. This will be found on p. 240. Sir John Lubbock's address was not given in full, and the list drawn up by the _Pall Mall_, from the reports in the daily papers, contained in fact only about 85 books. It seems necessary to allude particularly to this imperfect list, because it is the only one upon which the critics were asked to give an opinion, and their criticisms are peculiarly interesting, as they give us an important insight into the tastes and opinions of our teachers. In itself it is almost impossible to make a list that will be practically useful, because tastes and needs differ so widely, that a course of reading suitable for one man may be quite unsuitable for another. It is also very doubtful whether a conscientious passage through a "cut-and-dried" list of books will feed the mind as a more original selection by each reader himself would do. It is probably best to start the student well on his way and then leave him to pursue it according to his own tastes. Each book will help him to another, and consultation with some of the many manuals of English literature will guide him towards a good choice. This is in effect what Mr. Bond, Principal Librarian of the British Museum, says in his reply, to the circular of the editor of the _Pall Mall Gazette_. He writes "The result of several persons putting down the titles of books they considered 'best reading' would be an interesting but very imperfect bibliography of as many sections of literature;" and, again, "The beginner should be advised to read histories of the literature of his own and other countries--as Hallam's 'Introduction to the Literature of Europe,' Joseph Warton's 'History of English Poetry,' Craik's 'History of English Literature,' Paine's History, and others of the same class. These would give him a survey of the field, and would quicken his taste for what was naturally most congenial to him." There probably is no better course of reading than that which will naturally occur to one who makes an honest attempt to master our own noble literature. This is sufficient for the lifetime of most men without incursions into foreign literature. All cultivated persons will wish to become acquainted with the masterpieces of other nations, but this diversion will not be advisable if it takes the reader away from the study of the masterpieces of his own literature. Turning to the comments on the _Pall Mall Gazette's_ list, we may note one or two of the most important criticisms. The Prince of Wales very justly suggested that Dryden should not be omitted from such a list. Mr. Chamberlain asked whether the Bible was excluded by accident or design, and Mr. Irving suggested that the Bible and Shakespeare form together a very comprehensive library. Mr. Ruskin's reply is particularly interesting, for he adds but little, contenting himself with the work of destruction. He writes, "Putting my pen lightly through the needless--and blottesquely through the rubbish and poison of Sir John's list--I leave enough for a life's liberal reading--and choice for any true worker's loyal reading. I have added one quite vital and essential book--Livy (the two first books), and three plays of Aristophanes (_Clouds_, _Birds_, and _Plutus_). Of travels, I read myself all old ones I can get hold of; of modern, Humboldt is the central model. Forbes (James Forbes in Alps) is essential to the modern Swiss tourist--of sense." Mr. Ruskin puts the word _all_ to Plato, _everything_ to Carlyle, and _every word_ to Scott. Pindar's name he adds in the list of the classics, and after Bacon's name he writes "chiefly the _New Atlantis_." The work of destruction is marked by the striking out of all the _Non-Christian Moralists_, of all the Theology and Devotion, with the exception of Jeremy Taylor and the _Pilgrim's Progress_. The Nibelungenlied and Malory's _Morte d'Arthur_ (which, by the way, is in prose) go out, as do Sophocles and Euripides among the Greek Dramatists. _The Knights_ is struck out to make way for the three plays of Aristophanes mentioned above. Gibbon, Voltaire, Hume, and Grote all go, as do all the philosophers but Bacon. Cook's Voyages and Darwin's Naturalist in the _Beagle_ share a similar fate. Southey, Longfellow, Swift, Hume, Macaulay, and Emerson, Goethe and Marivaux, all are so unfortunate as to have Mr. Ruskin's pen driven through their names. Among the novelists Dickens and Scott only are left. The names of Thackeray, George Eliot, Kingsley, and Bulwer-Lytton are all erased. Mr. Ruskin sent a second letter full of wisdom till he came to his reasons for striking out Grote's "History of Greece," "Confessions of St. Augustine," John Stuart Mill, Charles Kingsley, Darwin, Gibbon, and Voltaire. With these reasons it is to be hoped that few readers will agree. Mr. Swinburne makes a new list of his own which is very characteristic. No. 3 consists of "Selections from the Bible: comprising Job, the Psalms, Ecclesiastes, the Song of Solomon, Isaiah, Ezekiel, Joel; the Gospels of St. Matthew and St. Luke, the Gospel and the First Epistle of St. John and Epistle of St. James." No. 12 is Villon, and Nos. 45 to 49 consist of the plays of Ford, Dekker, Tourneur, Marston, and Middleton; names very dear to the lover of our old Drama, but I venture to think names somewhat inappropriate in a list of books for a reader who does not make the drama a speciality. Lamb's Selections would be sufficient for most readers. Mr. William Morris supplies a full list with explanations, which are of considerable interest as coming from that distinguished poet. Archdeacon Farrar gives, perhaps, the best test for a favourite author, that is, the selection of his works in the event of all others being destroyed. He writes, "But if all the books in the world were in a blaze, the first twelve which I should snatch out of the flames would be the Bible, _Imitatio Christi_, Homer, Æschylus, Thucydides, Tacitus, Virgil, Marcus Aurelius, Dante, Shakespeare, Milton, Wordsworth. Of living authors I would save first the works of Tennyson, Browning and Ruskin." Another excellent test is that set up by travellers and soldiers. A book must be good when one of either of these classes decides to place it among his restricted baggage. Mr. H.M. Stanley writes, "You ask me what books I carried with me to take across Africa. I carried a great many--three loads, or about 180 lbs. weight; but as my men lessened in numbers, stricken by famine, fighting and sickness, they were one by one reluctantly thrown away, until finally, when less than 300 miles from the Atlantic, I possessed only the Bible, Shakespeare, Carlyle's Sartor Resartus, Norie's Navigation, and Nautical Almanac for 1877. Poor Shakspeare was afterwards burned by demand of the foolish people of Zinga. At Bonea, Carlyle and Norie and Nautical Almanac were pitched away, and I had only the old Bible left." He then proceeds to give a list of books which he allowed himself when "setting out with a tidy battalion of men." Lord Wolseley writes, "During the mutiny and China war I carried a Testament, two volumes of Shakespeare that contained his best plays, and since then, when in the field, I have always carried: Book of Common Prayer, Thomas à Kempis, Soldier's Pocket Book.... The book that I like reading at odd moments is 'The Meditations of Marcus Aurelius.'" He then adds, for any distant expedition, a few books of History (Creasy's "Decisive Battles," Plutarch's "Lives," Voltaire's "Charles XII.," "Cæsar," by Froude, and Hume's "England"). His Fiction is confined to Macaulay's "History of England" and the "Essays." Mr. Quaritch remarks that "Sir John's 'working man' is an ideal creature. I have known many working men, but none of them could have suggested such a feast as he has prepared for them." He adds, "In my younger days I had no books whatever beyond my school books. Arrived in London in 1842, I joined a literary institution, and read all their historical works. To read fiction I had no time. A friend of mine read novels all night long, and was one morning found dead in his bed." If Mr. Quaritch intends this as a warning, he should present the fact for the consideration of those readers who swell the numbers of novels in the statistics of the Free Libraries. Looking at the _Pall Mall Gazette's_ list, it naturally occurs to us that it would be a great error for an Englishman to arrange his reading so that he excluded Chaucer while he included Confucius. Among the names of modern novelists it is strange that Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë should have been omitted. In Sir John Lubbock's own list it will be seen that the names of Chaucer and Miss Austen occur. Among Essayists one would like to have seen at least the names of Charles Lamb, De Quincey, and Landor, and many will regret to find such delightful writers as Walton and Thomas Fuller omitted. We ought, however, to be grateful to Sir John Lubbock for raising a valuable discussion which is likely to draw the attention of many readers to books which might otherwise have been most unjustly neglected by them.[69] The following is Sir John Lubbock's list. It will be seen that several of the books, whose absence is remarked on, do really form part of the list, and that the objections of the critics are so far met. _The Bible._ * * * * * Marcus Aurelius, _Meditations_. Epictetus. Confucius, _Analects_. _Le Bouddha et sa Religion_ (St.-Hilaire). Aristotle, _Ethics_. Mahomet, _Koran_ (parts of). * * * * * _Apostolic Fathers_, Wake's collection. St. Augustine, _Confessions_. Thomas à Kempis, _Imitation_. Pascal, _Pensées_. Spinoza, _Tractatus Theologico-Politicus_. Comte, _Cat. of Positive Philosophy_ (Congreve). Butler, _Analogy_. Jeremy Taylor, _Holy Living and Holy Dying_. Bunyan, _Pilgrim's Progress_. Keble, _Christian Year_. * * * * * Aristotle, _Politics_. Plato's Dialogues--at any rate the _Phædo_ and _Republic_. Demosthenes, _De Coronâ_. Lucretius. Plutarch. Horace. Cicero, _De Officiis_, _De Amicitiâ_, _De Senectute_. * * * * * Homer, _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_. Hesiod. Virgil. Niebelungenlied. Malory, _Morte d'Arthur_. * * * * * Maha-Bharata, _Ramayana_, epitomized by Talboys Wheeler in the first two vols. of his _History of India_. Firdusi, _Shah-nameh_. Translated by Atkinson. _She-king_ (Chinese Odes). * * * * * Æschylus, _Prometheus_, _House of Atreus_, Trilogy, or _Persæ_. Sophocles, _OEdipus_, Trilogy. Euripides, _Medea_, Aristophanes, _The Knights_. * * * * * Herodotus. Xenophon, _Anabasis_. Thucydides. Tacitus, _Germania_. Livy. Gibbon, _Decline and Fall_. Hume, _England_. Grote, _Greece_. Carlyle, _French Revolution_. Green, _Short History of England_. Bacon, _Novum Organum_. Mill, _Logic_ and _Political Economy_. Darwin, _Origin of Species_. Smith, _Wealth of Nations_ (part of). Berkeley, _Human Knowledge_. Descartes, _Discours sur la Méthode_. Locke, _Conduct of the Understanding_. Lewes, _History of Philosophy_. * * * * * Cook, _Voyages_. Humboldt, _Travels_. Darwin, _Naturalist in the Beagle_. * * * * * Shakespeare. Milton, _Paradise Lost_, and the shorter poems. Dante, _Divina Commedia_. Spenser, _Faerie Queen_. Dryden's Poems. Chaucer, Morris's (or, if expurgated, Clarke's or Mrs. Haweis's) edition. Gray. Burns. Scott's Poems. Wordsworth, Mr. Arnold's selection. Heine. Pope. Southey. * * * * * Goldsmith, _Vicar of Wakefield_. Swift, _Gulliver's Travels_. Defoe, _Robinson Crusoe_. _The Arabian Nights._ Cervantes, _Don Quixote_. Boswell, _Johnson_. Burke, _Select Works_ (Payne). Essayists:--Bacon, Addison, Hume, Montaigne, Macaulay, Emerson. Molière. Sheridan. Voltaire, _Zadig_. Carlyle, _Past and Present_. Goethe, _Faust_, _Wilhelm Meister_. White, _Natural History of Selborne_. Smiles, _Self Help_. * * * * * Miss Austen, either _Emma_ or _Pride and Prejudice_. Thackeray, _Vanity Fair_ and _Pendennis_. Dickens, _Pickwick_ and _David Copperfield_. George Eliot, _Adam Bede_. Kingsley, _Westward Ho_! Bulwer-Lytton, _Last Days of Pompeii_. Scott's Novels. FOOTNOTES: [69] The whole of the correspondence has been reissued as a _Pall Mall "Extra"_ No. 24, and threepence will be well laid out by the purchaser of this very interesting pamphlet. INDEX. Abbotsford Club, 187. Advocates' Library, Edinburgh, Indecent books turned out, 18. Ælfric Society, 195. Arundel Society, 200. Authors, Bibliographies of particular, 181. Ballad Society, 206. Bannatyne Club, 186. Bibliographies (General), 141-159. ---- (Special), 160-183. Bindings in Charles I.'s Cabinet, 29. Book Collectors, 23. Books, One Hundred, 227-244. Booksellers, Use of, 58. Bossange (Hector), Ma Bibliothèque Française, 7. Burton's Book Hunter, 2, 53, 196. Buy, How to, 57-72. Calvin Translation Society, 197. Camden Society, 190. Catalogues of Public Libraries, 141. Cavendish Society, 199. Caxton Society, 198. Chaucer Society, 28.[TN 208] Chetham Society, 195. Child's Library, 217-226. Comte's Positivist Library, 131. Dibdin's Library Companion, 2. Dilettanti Society, 184. Durie's Reformed Librarie Keeper, 13. Early English Text Society, 203. Ecclesiastical History Society, 199. Edwards (Edward), Report on Formation of Manchester Free Library, 4. ---- Memoirs of Libraries, 5, 63. ---- Libraries and Founders of Libraries, 29, 44. English Dialect Society, 212. English Historical Society, 191. Fiction in Public Libraries, 81. Folk Lore Society, 210. Franklin's foundation of the Philadelphia Library, 77. George III.'s list of books, 14. Goodhugh's Library Manual, 3. Hakluyt Society, 200. Handel Society, 198. Hanserd Knollys Society, 198. Harleian Society, 209. Hellenic Studies, Society for the promotion of, 213. Hunterian Club, 210. Index Society, 213. Iona Club, 189. Johnson's (Dr.) List of Books, 15. Libraries, How men have Formed them, 23-56. ---- (Cathedral), 75. ---- (Monastic), 25. ---- (Private), 89-140. ---- (Public), 73-88. ---- United States Report on, 20, 75, 220. Louis XVI., his books during his captivity, 43. Lubbock's (Sir John), List of Books, 227-244. Maitland Club, 187. Manx Society, 202. Middlesex County Record Society, 215. Motett Society, 194. Musical Antiquarian Society, 194. Napoleon's Libraries, 44. Naudé, Gilbert [TN Gabriel], 9. Novels, One Hundred Good, 138. ---- in Public Libraries, 81. Oriental Texts, Society for the Publication of, 194. Oriental Translation Fund, 189. Ossianic Society, 202. Oxford Historical Society, 215. Palæographical Society, 213. Palæontographical Society, 200. Parker Society, 192. Percy Society, 193. Perkins's Best Reading, 8. Philobiblon Society, 201. Pipe Roll Society, 215. Positivist Library, 131. Printers, Bibliographies of celebrated, 176. Ray Society, 198. Reference, Books of, 91-129. Roxburghe Club, 185. Roxburghe Library, 209. Sales, How to Buy at, 63. Shakespeare Society, 193. Shakspere (New) Society, 211. Societies (Publishing), 184-216. Spalding Club, 191. Spenser Society, 209. Spottiswoode Society, 195. Stevens (Henry), "My English Library," 6. ---- his paper on Mr. James Lenox, 55, 64. Surtees Society, 189. Sydenham Society, 195. Topographical Bibliographies, 179. Topographical Society of London, 214. Warton Club, 202. Wernerian Club, 198. Wodrow Society, 194. Wyclif Society, 215 [Illustration] Transcriber's Note Inconsistent spelling retained. 
41837	----	Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration. See 41837-h.htm or 41837-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41837/41837-h/41837-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41837/41837-h.zip) [Illustration: The man sprang back in fear--Chapter XII.] Adventure Stories for Girls THE SECRET MARK by ROY J. SNELL The Reilly & Lee Co. Chicago Printed in the United States of America Copyright, 1923 by The Reilly & Lee Co. All Rights Reserved CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I A Mysterious Visitor 7 II Elusive Shakespeare 19 III The Gargoyle 30 IV What the Gargoyle Might Tell 40 V The Papier-Mache Lunch Box 50 VI "One Can Never Tell" 62 VII The Vanishing Portland Chart 73 VIII What Was In the Papier-Mache Lunch Box 81 IX Shadowed 94 X Mysteries of the Sea 102 XI Lucile Shares Her Secret 111 XII The Trial By Fire 121 XIII In the Mystery Room at Night 131 XIV A Strange Request 138 XV A Strange Journey 143 XVI Night Visitors 155 XVII A Battle in the Night 166 XVIII Frank Morrow Joins in the Hunt 176 XIX Lucile Solves No Mystery 190 XX "That Was the Man" 199 XXI A Theft in the Night 211 XXII Many Mysteries 218 XXIII Inside the Lines 228 XXIV Secrets Revealed 235 XXV Better Days 242 The Secret Mark CHAPTER I A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR Lucile Tucker's slim, tapered fingers trembled slightly as she rested them against a steel-framed bookcase. She had paused to steady her shaken nerves, to collect her wits, to determine what her next move should be. "Who can it be?" her madly thumping heart kept asking her. And, indeed, who, besides herself, could be in the book stacks at this hour of the night? About her, ranging tier on tier, towering from floor to ceiling, were books, thousands on thousands of books. The two floors above were full of books. The two below were the same. This place was a perfect maze of books. It was one of the sections of a great library, the library of one of the finest universities of the United States. In all this vast "city of books" she had thought herself quite alone. It was a ghostly hour. Midnight. In the towers the great clock had slowly struck. Besides the striking of the clock there had been but a single sound: the click of an electric light snapped on. There had instantly gleamed at her feet a single ray of light. That light had traveled beneath many tiers of books to reach her. She thought it must be four but was not quite sure. She had been preparing to leave the "maze," as she often called the stacks of books which loomed all about her. So familiar was she with the interior of this building that she needed no light to guide her. To her right was a spiral stairway which like an auger bored its way to the ground four stories below. Straight ahead, twenty tiers of books away, was a small electric elevator, used only for lifting or lowering piles of books. Fourteen tiers back was a straight stairway. To a person unfamiliar with it, the stacks presented a bewildering labyrinth, but to Lucile they were an open book. She had intended making her way back to the straight stairway which led to the door by which she must leave. But now she clutched at her heart as she asked herself once more: "Who can it be? And what does he want?" Only one thing stood out clearly in her bewildered brain: Since she was connected with the stacks as one of their keepers, it was plainly her duty to discover who this intruder might be and, if occasion seemed to warrant, to report the case to her superiors. The university owned many rare and valuable books. She had often wondered that so many of these were kept, not in vaults, but in open shelves. Her heart gave a new bound of terror as she remembered that some of these, the most valuable of all, were at the very spot from which the light came. "Oh! Shame! Why be so foolish?" she whispered to herself suddenly. "Probably some professor with a pass-key. Probably--but what's the use? I've got to find out." With that she began moving stealthily along the narrow passageway which lay between the stacks. Tiptoeing along, with her heart thumping so loudly she could not help feeling it might be heard, she advanced step by step until she stood beside the end of the stack nearest the strange intruder. There for a few seconds she stuck. The last ounce of courage had oozed out. She must await its return. Then with a sudden burst of courage she swung round the corner. The next instant she was obliged to exert all her available energy to suppress a laugh. Standing in the circle of light was not some burly robber, but a child, a very small and innocent looking child. Yet a second glance told her that the child was older than she looked. Her face showed that. Old as the face was, the body of the child appeared tiny as a sparrow's. A green velvet blouse of some strangely foreign weave, a coarse skirt, a pair of heavy shoes, unnoticeable stockings and that face--all this flashed into her vision for a second. Then all was darkness; the light had been snapped out. The action was so sudden and unexpected that for a few seconds the young librarian stood where she was, motionless. Wild questions raced through her mind: Who was the child? What was she doing in the library at this unearthly hour? How had she gotten in? How did she expect to get out? She had a vaguely uneasy feeling that the child carried a package. What could that be other than books? A second question suddenly disturbed her: Who was this child? Had she seen her before? She felt sure she had. But where? Where? All this questioning took but seconds. The next turn found her mind focused on the one important question: Which way had the child gone? As if in answer to her question, her alert ears caught the soft pit-pat of footsteps. "She's going on to my right," she whispered to herself. "That's good. There is no exit in that direction, only windows and an impossible drop of fifty feet. I'll tiptoe along, throw on the general switch, catch her at that end and find out why she is here. Probably accepting a dare or going through with some childish prank." Hastily she tiptoed down the aisle between the stacks. Then, turning to her left, she put out her hand, touched a switch and released a flood of light. At first its brightness blinded her. The next instant she stared about her in astonishment. The place was empty. "Deserted as a tomb," she whispered. And so it was. Not a trace of the child was to be seen. "As if I hadn't seen her at all!" she murmured. "I don't believe in ghosts, but--where have I seen that face before? You'd never forget it, once you'd seen it. And I have seen it. But where?" Meditatively she walked to the dummy elevator which carried books up and down. She started as her glance fell upon it. The carrier had been on this floor when she left it not fifteen minutes before. Now it was gone. The button that released it was pressed in for the ground floor. "She couldn't have," she murmured. "The compartment isn't over two feet square." She stared again. Then she pressed the button for the return of the elevator. The car moved silently upward to stop at her door. There was nothing about it to show that it had been used for unusual purposes. "And yet she might have," she mused. "She was so tiny. She might have pressed herself into it and ridden down." Suddenly she switched off the lights and hurried to a window. Did she catch a glimpse of a retreating figure at the far side of the campus? She could not be sure. The lights were flickering, uncertain. "Well," she shook herself, then shivered, "I guess that's about all of that. Ought to report it, but I won't. They'd only laugh at me." Again she shivered, then turning, tiptoed down the narrow passageway to carry out her original intention of going out of the building by way of the back stairs. Her room was only a half block away in a dormitory on the corner of the campus nearest the library. Having reached the dormitory, she went to her room and began disrobing for the night. In the bed near her own, wrapped in profound sleep, lay her roommate. She wished to waken her, to tell her of the strange event of the night. For a moment she stood with the name "Florence" quivering on her lips. The word died unspoken. "No use to trouble her," she decided. "She's been working hard lately and needs the sleep." At last, clad in her dream robes, with her abundant hair streaming down her back and her white arms gleaming in the moonlight, she sat down by the open window to think and dream. It was a wonderful picture that lay spread out before her, a vista of magnificent Gothic structures of gray sandstone framed in lawns of perfectly kept green. Sidewalks wound here, there, everywhere. Swarming with students during the waking hours, they were silent now. Her bosom swelled with a strange, inexpressible emotion as she realized that she, a mere girl, was a part of it all. Like her roommate, she was one of the thousands of girls who to-day attend the splendid universities of our land. With little money, of humble parentage, they are yet given an opportunity to make their way toward a higher and broader understanding of the meaning of life through study in the university. The thought that this university was possessed of fifty millions of dollars' worth of property, yet had time and patience to make a place for her, both awed and inspired her. The very thought of her position sobered her. Four hours each week day she worked in the stacks at the library. Books that had been read and returned came down to her and by her hands were placed in their particular niches of the labyrinth of stacks. The work was not work to her but recreation, play. She was a lover of books. Just to touch them was a delight. To handle them, to work with them, to keep them in their places, accessible to all, this was joy indeed. Yet this work, which was play to her, went far toward paying her way in the university. And at this thought her brow clouded. She recalled once more the occurrence of a short time before and the strange little face among the stacks. She knew that she ought to tell the head of her section of the library, Mr. Downers, of the incident. Should anything happen, should some book be missing, she would then be free from suspicion. Should suspicion fall upon her, she might be deprived of her position and, from lack of funds, be obliged to give up her cherished dream, a university education. "But I don't want to tell," she whispered to the library tower which, like some kindly, long-bearded old gentleman, seemed to be accusing her. "I don't want to." Hardly had she said this than she realized that there was a stronger reason than her fear of derision that held her back from telling. "It's the face," she told herself. "That poor little kiddie's face. It wasn't beautiful, no, not quite that, but appealing, frankly, fearlessly appealing. If I saw her take a book I couldn't believe that she meant to steal it, or at least that it was she who willed it. "But fi-fum," she laughed a low laugh, throwing back her head until her hair danced over her white shoulders like a golden shower, "why borrow trouble? She probably took nothing. It was but a childish prank." At that she threw back the covers of her bed, thrust her feet deep down beneath them and lay down to rest. To-morrow was Sunday; no work, no study. There would be plenty of time to think. She believed that she had dismissed the scene in the library from her mind, yet even as she fell asleep something seemed to tell her that she was mistaken, that the child had really stolen a book, that there were breakers ahead. And that something whispered truth, for this little incident was but the beginning of a series of adventures such as a college girl seldom is called upon to experience. Being ignorant of all this, she fell asleep to dream sweet dreams while the moon out of a cloudless sky, beaming down upon the faultless campus, seemed at times to take one look in at her open window. CHAPTER II ELUSIVE SHAKESPEARE The sun had been up for more than an hour when on the following morning Lucile lifted her head sleepily and looked at the clock. "Sunday morning. I'm glad!" she exclaimed as she leaped out of bed and raced away for a cold shower. As she dressed she experienced a sensation of something unfinished and at the same time a desire to hide something, to defend someone. At first she could not understand what it all meant. Then, like a flash, the occurrence of the previous night flashed upon her. "Oh, that," she breathed. She was surprised to find that her desire to shield the child had gained tremendously in strength while she slept. Perhaps there are forces we know nothing of, which work on the inner, hidden chambers of our mind while we sleep, and having worked there, leave impressions which determine our very destinies. Lucile was not enough of a philosopher to reason this all out. She merely knew that she did not want to tell anyone of the strange incident, no not even her roommate. And in the end that was just what happened. She told no one. When she went back to her work on Monday night a whole busy day had passed in the library. Thousands of books had shot up the dummy elevator to have their cards stamped and to be given out. Thousands had been returned to their places on their shelves. Was a single book missing? Were two or three missing? Lucile had no way of knowing. Every book that had gone out had been recorded, but to look over these records, then to check back and see if others were missing, would be the work of weeks. She could only await developments. She was surprised at the speed with which these developments came. Mr. Downers, the superintendent, was noted for his exact knowledge regarding the whereabouts of the books which were under his care. She had not been working an hour when a quiet voice spoke to her and with a little start she turned to face her superior. "Miss Tucker," the librarian smiled, "do you chance to have any knowledge of the whereabouts of the first volume of our early edition of Shakespeare?" "Why, no," the girl replied quickly. "Why--er"--there was a catch in her throat--"is it gone?" Mr. Downers nodded as he replied: "Seems temporarily so to be. Misplaced, no doubt. Will show up later." He was still smiling but there were wrinkles in his usually placid brow. "I missed it just now," he went on. "Strange, too. I saw it there only Saturday. The set was to be removed from the library to be placed in the Noyes museum. Considered too valuable to be kept in the library. Very early edition, you know. "Strange!" he puzzled. "It could not have been taken out on the car, as it was used only in the reference reading room. It's not there. I just phoned. However, it will turn up. Don't worry about it." He turned on his heel and was gone. Lucile stared after him. She wanted to call him back, to tell him that it was not all right, that it would not turn up, that the strangely quaint little person she had seen in the library at midnight had carried it away. Yet she said not a word; merely allowed him to pass away. It was as if there was a hand over her mouth forbidding her to speak. "There can't be a bit of doubt about it," she told herself. "That girl was standing right by the shelf where the ancient Shakespeare was kept. She took it. I wonder why? I wonder if she'll come back. Why, of course she will! For the other volume, or to return the one she has. Perhaps to-night. Two volumes were too heavy for those slim shoulders. She'll come back and then she shan't escape me. I'll catch her in the act. Then I'll find out the reason why." So great was her faith in this bit of reasoning that she resolved that, without telling a single person about the affair, she would set a watch that very night for the mysterious child and the elusive Shakespeare. She must solve the puzzle. That night as she sat in the darkened library, listening, waiting, she allowed her mind to recall in a dim and dreamy way the face and form of the mysterious child. As she dreamed thus there suddenly flashed into the foreground from the deepest depths of her memory the time and circumstance on which she had first seen that child. She saw it all as in a dream. The girl had been dressed just as she was Saturday at midnight. She had entered the stacks. That had been a month before. She had appeared leading an exceedingly old man. Bent with the weight of years, leaning upon a cane, all but blind, the old man had moved with a strangely youthful eagerness. He had been allowed to enter the stacks only by special request. He was an aged Frenchman, a lover of books. He wished to come near the books, to sense them, to see them with his age-dimmed eyes, to touch them with his faltering hands. So the little girl had guided him forward. From time to time he had asked that he be allowed to handle certain volumes. He had touched each with a reverent hand. His touch had resembled a caress. Some few he had opened and had felt along the covers. "I wonder why he did that," Lucile had thought to herself. She paused. A sudden thought had flashed into her mind. At the risk of missing her quarry, she groped her way to the shelf where the companion to the stolen volume lay and took it down. Slowly she ran her fingers over the inner part of the cover. "Yes," she whispered, "there is something." She dared not flash on the light. To do so might betray her presence in the building. To-morrow she would see. Replacing the volume in its accustomed niche, she again tiptoed to her post of waiting. As she thought of it now, she began to realize what a large part her unconscious memory had played in her longing to shield the child. She had seen the child render a service to a feeble and all but helpless old man. Her memory had been trying to tell her of this but had only now broken through into her wakeful mind. Lucile was aroused by the thought. "I must save her," she told herself. "I must. I must!" Even with this resolve came a perplexing problem. Why had the child taken the book? Had she done so at the old man's direction? That seemed incredible. Could an old man, tottering to his grave, revealing in spite of his shabby clothing a one-time more than common intellect and a breeding above the average, stoop to theft, the theft of a book? And could he, above all, induce an innocent child to join him in the deed? It was unthinkable. "That man," she thought to herself, "why he had a noble bearing, like a soldier, almost, certainly like a gentleman. He reminded me of that great old general of his own nation who said to his men when the enemy were all but upon Paris: 'They must not pass.' Could he stoop to stealing?" These problems remained all unsolved, for on that night no slightest footfall was heard in the silent labyrinth. The next night was the same, and the next. Lucile was growing weary, hollow-eyed with her vigil. She had told Florence nothing, yet she had surprised her roommate often looking at her in a way which said, "Why are you out so late every night? Why don't you share things with your pal?" And she wanted to, but something held her back. Thursday night came with a raging torrent of rain. It was not her night at the library. She would gladly have remained in her cozy room, wrapped in a kimono, studying, yet, as the chimes pealed out the notes of Auld Lang Syne, telling that the hour of ten had arrived, she hurried into her rubbers and ulster to face the tempest. Wild streaks of lightning faced her at the threshold. A gust of wind seized her and hurried her along for an instant, then in a wild, freakish turn all but threw her upon the pavement. A deluge of rain, seeming to extinguish the very street light, beat down upon her. "How foolish I am!" she muttered. "She would not come on a night like this." And yet she did come. Lucile had not been in her hiding place more than a half hour when she caught the familiar pit-pat of footsteps. "This time she shall not escape me," she whispered, as with bated breath and cushioned footstep she tiptoed toward the spot where the remaining Shakespeare rested. Now she was three stacks away. As she paused to listen she knew the child was at the same distance in the opposite direction. She moved one stack nearer, then listened again. She heard nothing. What had happened?--the child had paused. Had she heard? Lucile's first impulse was to snap on a light. She hesitated and in hesitating lost. There came a sudden glare of light. A child's face was framed in it, a puzzled, frightened face. A slender hand went out and up. A book came down. The light went out. And all this happened with such incredible speed that Lucile stood glued to her tracks through it all. She leaped toward the dummy elevator, only to hear the faint click which told that it was descending. She could not stop it. The child was gone. She dashed to a window which was on the elevated station side. A few seconds of waiting and the lightning rewarded her. In the midst of a blinding flash, she caught sight of a tiny figure crossing a broad stretch of rain-soaked green. The next instant, with rubbers in one hand and ulster in the other, she dashed down the stairs. "I'll get her yet," she breathed. "She belongs down town. She'll take the elevated. There is a car in seven minutes. I'll make it, too. Then we shall see." CHAPTER III THE GARGOYLE Down a long stretch of sidewalk, across a sunken patch of green where the water was to her ankles, down a rain-drenched street, through pools of black water where sewers were choked, Lucile dashed. With no thought for health or safety she exposed herself to the blinding tempest and dashed before skidding autos, to arrive at last panting at the foot of the rusted iron stairs that led to the elevated railway platform. Pausing only long enough to catch her breath and arrange her garments that the child might not be frightened away by her appearance, she hurried up the stairs. The train came thundering in. There was just time to thrust a dime through the wicker window and to bound for the door. Catching a fleeting glimpse of the dripping figure of the child, she made a dash for that car and made it. A moment later, with her ulster thrown over on the seat beside her, she found herself facing the child. Sitting there curled up in a corner, as she now was, hugging a bulky package wrapped in oilcloth, the child seemed older and tinier than ever. "How could she do it?" was Lucile's unspoken question as she watched the water oozing from her shoes to drip-drip to the floor below. With the question came a blind resolve to see the thing through to the end. This child was not the real culprit. Cost what it might, she would find who was behind her strange actions. There is no place in all the world where a thunderstorm seems more terrible than in the deserted streets in the heart of a great city at night. Echoing and re-echoing between the towering walls of buildings, the thunder seems to be speaking to the universe. Flashing from a thousand windows to ten thousand others, the lightning seems to be searching the haunts and homes of men. The whole wild fury of it seems but the voice of nature defying man in his great stronghold, the city. It is as if in thundering tones she would tell him that great as he may imagine himself, he is not a law unto himself and can never be. Into the heart of a great city on a night like this the elevated train carried Lucile and the child. On the face of the child, thief as she undoubtedly was, and with the stolen goods in her possession, there flashed not one tremor, not a falling of an eyelash, which might be thought of as a sign of fear of laws of nature, man or God. Was she hardened or completely innocent of guilt? Who at that moment could tell? It would be hard to imagine a more desolate spot than that in which the car discharged its two passengers. As Lucile's eye saw the sea of dreary, water-soaked tenements and tumbledown cottages that, like cattle left out in the storm, hovered beside the elevated tracks, she shivered and was tempted to turn back--yet she went on. A half block from the station she passed a policeman. Again she hesitated. The child was but a half block before her. She suspected nothing. It would be so easy to say to the policeman, "Stop that child. She is a thief. She has stolen property concealed beneath her cape." The law would then take its course and Lucile's hands would be free. Yet something urged her past the policeman, down a narrow street, round a corner, up a second street, down a third, still narrower, and up to the door of the smallest, shabbiest cottage of the whole tumble-down lot. The child had entered here. Lucile paused to consider and, while considering, caught the gleam of light through a torn window shade. The cottage was one story and a garret. The window was within her range of vision. After a glance from left to right, she stepped beneath the porch, which gave her an opportunity to peer through the opening. Here, deep in the shadows, she might look on at the scene within without herself being observed by those within or by passers-by on the street. The picture which came to her through the hole in the shade was so different from that which one might expect that she barely suppressed a gasp. In the room, which was scrupulously clean and tidy, there were but two persons, the child and the old man who had visited the library. Through the grate of a small stove a fire gleamed. Before this fire, all unabashed, the child stripped the water-soaked clothing from her meager body, then stood chafing her limbs, which were purple with cold. The old man appeared all absorbed in his inspection of the book just placed in his hands. Lucile was not surprised to recognize it as the second Shakespeare. From turning it over and over, he paused to open it and peer at its inside cover. Not satisfied with this, he ran his finger over the upper, outside corner. It was then that Lucile saw for the first time the thing she had felt while in the library in the dark. A small square of paper, yellow with age, was in that corner, and in its center was a picture of a gargoyle. A strange looking creation was this gargoyle. It was with such as these the ancients were wont to decorate their mansions. With a savage face that was half man and half lion, he possessed the paws of a beast and the wings of a great bird. About two sides of this picture was a letter L. "So that was it," she breathed. The next moment her attention was attracted by a set of shelves. These ran across one entire end of the room and, save for a single foot of space, were entirely filled with books. The striking fact to be noted was that, if one were able to judge from the appearance of their books, they must all of them be of great age. "A miser of books," she breathed. Searching these shelves, she felt sure she located the other missing volume of Shakespeare. This decision was confirmed at last as the tottering old man made his way to the shelf and filled some two inches of the remaining vacant shelf-space by placing the newly-acquired book beside its mate. After this he stood there for a moment looking at the two books. The expression on his face was startling. In the twinkling of an eye, it appeared to prove her charge of book miser to be false. This was not the look of a Shylock. "More like a father glorying over the return of a long-lost child," she told herself. As she stood there puzzling over this, the room went suddenly dark. The occupants of the house had doubtless gone to another part of the cottage to retire for the night. She was left with two alternatives: to call a policeman and have the place raided or to return quietly to the university and think the thing through. She chose the latter course. After discovering the number of the house and fixing certain landmarks in her mind, she returned to the elevated station. "They'll not dispose of the books, that's certain," she told herself. "The course to be taken in the future will come to me." Stealing silently into her room on her return, she was surprised to find her roommate awake, robed in a kimono and pacing the floor. "Why, Florence!" she breathed. "Why, yourself!" Florence turned upon her. "Where've you been in all this storm? Five minutes more and I should have called the matron. She would have notified the police and then things would have been fine. Grand! Can you see it in the morning papers? 'Beautiful co-ed mysteriously disappears from university dormitory in storm. No trace of her yet found. Roommate says no cause for suicide.'" "Oh!" gasped Lucile, "you wouldn't have!" "What else could I do? How was I to know what had happened? You hadn't breathed a word. You--" Florence sat down upon her bed, dug her bare toes into the rug and stared at her roommate. For once in her life, strong, dependable, imperturbable Florence was excited. "I know," said Lucile, removing her watersoaked dress and stockings and chafing her benumbed feet. "I--I guess I should have told you about it, but it was something I was quite sure you wouldn't understand, so I didn't, that's all. But now--now I've got to tell someone or I'll burst, and I'd rather tell you than anyone else I know." "Thanks," Florence smiled. "Just for that I'll help you into dry clothes, then you can tell me in comfort." The clock struck three and the girls were still deep in the discussion of the mystery. "One thing is important," said Florence. "That is the value of the Shakespeare. Perhaps it's not worth so terribly much after all." "Perhaps not," Lucile wrinkled her brow, "but I am awfully afraid it is. Let's see--who could tell me? Oh, I know--Frank Morrow!" "Who's Frank Morrow?" "He's the best authority on old books there is in the United States to-day. He's right here in this city. Got a cute little shop on the fifteenth floor of the Marshal Annex building. He's an old friend of my father. He'll tell me anything I need to know about books." "All right, you'd better see him to-morrow, or I mean to-day. And now for three winks." Florence threw off her kimono and leaped into bed. Lucile followed her example and the next instant the room was dark. CHAPTER IV WHAT THE GARGOYLE MIGHT TELL Frank Morrow was the type of man any girl might be glad to claim as a friend. He had passed his sixty-fifth birthday and for thirty-five years he had been a dealer in old books, yet he was neither stooped nor near-sighted. A man of broad shoulders and robust frame, he delighted as much in a low morning score at golf as he did in the discovery of a rare old book. His hair was white but his cheeks retained much of their ruddy glow. His quiet smile gave to all who visited his shop a feeling of genuine welcome which they did not soon forget. His shop, like himself, reflected the new era which has dawned in the old book business. Men have come to realize that age lends worth to books that possessed real worth in the beginning and they are coming to house them well. On one of the upper floors of a modern business block Frank Morrow's shop was flooded with sunshine and fresh air. A potted plant bloomed on his desk. The books, arranged neatly without a painful effort at order, presented the appearance of some rich gentleman's library. A darker corner, a room by itself, to the right and back, suggested privacy and seclusion and here Frank Morrow's finds were kept. Many of them were richly bound and autographed. The wise and the rich of the world passed through Frank Morrow's shop, for in his brain there rested knowledge which no other living man could impart. Did a bishop wish to purchase an out-of-print book for his ecclesiastical library, he came to Frank Morrow to ask where it might be found. Did the prince of the steel market wish a folio edition of Audubon's "Birds of America"? He came to Frank and somewhere, in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Frank found it for him. Authors came to him and artists as well, not so much for what he could find for them as for what he might impart in the way of genial friendship and the lore of books. It was to this man and this shop that Lucile made her way next morning. She was not prepared to confide in him to the extent of telling him the whole story of her mystery, for she did not know him well. He was her father's friend, that was all. She did wish to tell him that she was in trouble and to ask his opinion of the probable value of the set of Shakespeare which had been removed from the university library. "Well, now," he smiled as he adjusted his glasses after she had asked her question, "I'll be glad to help you if I can, but I'm not sure that I can. There are Shakespeares and other Shakespeares. I don't know the university set--didn't buy it for them. Probably a donation from some rich man. It might be a folio edition. In that case--well"--he paused and smiled again--"I trust you haven't burned this Shakespeare by mistake nor had it stolen from your room or anything like that?" "No! Oh, no! Not--nothing like that!" exclaimed Lucile. "Well, as I was about to say, I found a very nice folio edition for a rich friend of mine not so very long ago. The sale of it I think was the record for this city. It cost him eighteen thousand dollars." Lucile gasped, then sat staring at him in astonishment. "Eighteen thousand dollars!" she managed to murmur at last. "Of course you understand that was a folio edition, very rare. There are other old editions that are cheaper, much cheaper." "I--I hope so," murmured Lucile. "Would you like to see some old books and get a notion of their value?" he asked. "Indeed I would." "Step in here." He led the way into the mysterious dark room. There he switched on a light to reveal walls packed with books. "Here's a little thing," he smiled, taking down a volume which would fit comfortably into a man's coat pocket; "Walton's Compleat Angler. It's a first edition. Bound in temporary binding, vellum. What would you say it was worth?" "I--I couldn't guess. Please don't make me," Lucile pleaded. "Sixteen hundred dollars." Again Lucile stared at him in astonishment. "That little book!" "You see," he said, motioning her a seat, "rare books, like many other rare things, derive their value from their scarcity. The first edition of this book was very small. Being small and comparatively cheap, the larger number of the books were worn out, destroyed or lost. So the remaining books have come to possess great value. The story--" He came to an abrupt pause, arrested by a look of astonishment on the girl's face, as she gazed at the book he held. "Why, what--" he began. "That," Lucile pointed to a raised monogram in the upper inside cover of the book. "A private mark," explained Morrow. "Many rich men and men of noble birth in the past had private marks which they put in their books. The custom seems to be as old as books themselves. Men do it still. Let's see, what is that one?" "An embossed 'L' around two sides of the picture of a gargoyle," said Lucile in as steady a tone as she could command. "Ah! yes, a very unusual one. In all my experience I have seen but five books with that mark in them. All have passed through my hands during the past two years. And yet this mark is a very old one. See how yellow the paper is. Probably some foreign library. Many rare books came across the sea during the war. I believe--" He paused to reflect, then said with a tone of certainty, "Yes, I know that mark was in the folio edition of Shakespeare which I sold last year." His words caught Lucile's breath. For the moment she could neither move nor speak. The thought that the set of Shakespeare taken from the library might be the very set sold to the rich man, and worth eighteen thousand dollars, struck her dumb. Fortunately the dealer did not notice her distress but pointing to the bookmark went on: "If that gargoyle could talk now, if it could tell its story and the story of the book it marks, what a yarn it might spin. "For instance," his eyes half closed as the theme gripped him, "this mark is unmistakably continental--French or German. French, I'd say, from the form of the 'L' and the type of gargoyle. Many men of wealth and of noble birth on the continent have had large collections of books printed in English. This little book with the gargoyle on the inside of its cover is a hundred years old. It's a young book as ancient books go, yet what things have happened in its day. It has seen wars and bloodshed. The library in which it has reposed may have been the plotting place of kings, knights and dukes or of rebels and regicides. "It may have witnessed domestic tragedies. What great man may have contemplated the destruction of his wife? What noble lady may have whispered in its presence of some secret love? What youths and maids may have slipped away into its quiet corner to utter murmurs of eternal devotion? "It may have been stolen, been carried away as booty in war, been pawned with its mates to secure a nobleman's ransom. "Oh, I tell you," he smiled as he read the interest in her face, "there is romance in old books, thrilling romance. Whole libraries have been stolen and secretly disposed of. Chests of books have been captured by pirates. "Here is a book, a copy of Marco Polo's travels, a first edition copy which, tradition tells us, was once owned by the renowned pirate, Captain Kidd. I am told he was fond of reading. However that may be, there certainly were men of learning among his crew. There never was a successful gang of thieves that did not have at least one college man in it." He chuckled at his own witticism and Lucile smiled with him. "Well," he said rising, "if there is anything I can do for you at any time, drop in and ask me. I am always at the service of fair young ladies. One never grows too old for that; besides, your father was my very good friend." Lucile thanked him, took a last look at the pocket volume worth sixteen hundred dollars, made a mental note of the form of its gargoyle, then handed it to him and left the room. She little dreamed how soon and under what strange circumstances she would see that book again. She left the shop of Frank Morrow in a strange state of mind. She felt that she should turn the facts in her possession over to the officials of the library and allow them to deal with the child and the old man. Yet there was something mysterious about it all. That collector of books, doubtless worth a fortune, in surroundings which betokened poverty, the strange book mark, the look on the old man's face as he fingered the volume of Shakespeare, how explain all these? If the university authorities or the police handled the case, would they take time to solve these mysteries, to handle the case in such a way as would not hasten the death of this feeble old man nor blight the future of this strange child? She feared not. "Life, the life of a child, is of greater importance than is an ancient volume," she told herself at last. "And with the help of Florence and perhaps of Frank Morrow I will solve the mystery myself. Yes, even if it costs me my position and my hope for an education!" She paused to stamp the pavement, then hurried away toward the university. CHAPTER V THE PAPIER-MACHE LUNCH BOX "But, Lucile!" exclaimed Florence after she had heard the latest development in the mystery. "If the books are worth all that money, how dare you take the risk of leaving things as they are for a single hour?" "We don't know that they are that identical edition." "But you say the gargoyle was there." "Yes, but that doesn't prove anything. There might have been a whole family of gargoyle libraries for all we know. Besides, what if it is? What are two books compared to the marring of a human life? What right has a university, or anyone else for that matter, to have books worth thousands of dollars? Books are just tools or playthings. That's all they are. Men use them to shape their intellects just as a carpenter uses a plane, or they use them for amusement. What would be the sense of having a wood plane worth eighteen thousand dollars when a five dollar one would do just as good work?" "But what do you mean to do about it?" asked Florence. "I'm going down there by that mysterious cottage and watch what happens to-night and you are going with me. We'll go as many nights as we have to. If it's necessary we'll walk in upon our mysterious friends and make them tell why they took the books. Maybe they won't tell but they'll give them back to us and unless I'm mistaken that will at least be better for the girl than dragging her into court." "Oh, all right," laughed Florence, rising and throwing back her shoulders. "I suppose you're taking me along as a sort of bodyguard. I don't mind. Life's been a trifle dull of late. A little adventure won't go so bad and since it is endured in what you choose to consider a righteous cause, it's all the better. But please let's make it short. I do love to sleep." Had she known what the nature of their adventure was to be, she might at least have paused to consider, but since the things we don't know don't hurt us, she set to work planning this, their first nightly escapade. Reared as they had been in the far West and the great white North, the two girls had been accustomed to wildernesses of mountains, forest and vast expanses of ice and snow. One might fancy that for them, even at night, a great city would possess no terrors. This was not true. The quiet life at the university, eight miles from the heart of the city, had done little to rid them of their terror of city streets at night. To them every street was a canyon, the end of each alley an entrance to a den where beasts of prey might lurk. Not a footfall sounded behind them but sent terror to their hearts. Lucile had gone on that first adventure alone in the rain on sudden impulse. The second was premeditated. They coolly plotted the return to the narrow street where the mysterious cottage stood. Nothing short of a desire to serve someone younger and weaker than herself could have induced Lucile to return to that region, the very thought of which sent a cold shiver running down her spine. As for Florence, she was a devoted chum of Lucile. It was enough that Lucile wished her to go. Other interests might develop later; for the present, this was enough. So, on the following night, a night dark and cloudy but with no rain, they stole forth from the hall to make their way down town. They had decided that they would go to the window of the torn shade and see what they might discover, but, on arriving at the scene, decided that there was too much chance of detection. "We'll just walk up and down the street," suggested Lucile. "If she comes out we'll follow her and see what happens. She may go back to the university for more books." "You don't think she'd dare?" whispered Florence. "She returned once, why not again?" "There are no more Shakespeares." "But there are other books." "Yes." They fell into silence. The streets were dark. It grew cold. It was a cheerless task. Now and again a person passed them. Two of them were men, noisy and drunken. "I--I don't like it," shivered Lucile, "but what else is there to do?" "Go in and tell them they have our books and must give them up." "That wouldn't solve anything." "It would get our books back." "Yes, but--" Suddenly Lucile paused, to place a hand on her companion's arm. A slight figure had emerged from the cottage. "It's the child," she whispered. "We must not seem to follow. Let's cross the street." They expected the child to enter the elevated station as she had done before, but this she did not do. Walking at a rapid pace, she led them directly toward the very heart of the city. After covering five blocks, she began to slow down. "Getting tired," was Florence's comment. "More people here. We could catch up with her and not be suspected." This they did. Much to their surprise, they found the child dressed in the cheap blue calico of a working woman's daughter. "What's that for?" whispered Lucile. "Disguise," Florence whispered. "She's going into some office building. See, she is carrying a pressed paper lunch box. She'll get in anywhere with that; just tell them she's bringing a hot midnight lunch to her mother. "It's strange," she mused, "when you think of it, how many people work while we sleep. Every morning hundreds of thousands of people swarm to their work or their shopping in the heart of the city and they find all the carpets swept, desks and tables dusted, floors and stairs scrubbed, and I'll bet that not one in a hundred of them ever pauses to wonder how it all comes about. Not one in a thousand gives a passing thought to the poor women who toil on hands and knees with rag and brush during the dark hours of night that everything may be spick and span in the morning. I tell you, Lucile, we ought to be thankful that we're young and that opportunities lie before us. I tell you--" She was stopped by a grip on her arm. "Wha--where has she gone?" stammered Lucille. "She vanished!" "And she was not twenty feet before us a second ago." The two girls stood staring at each other in astonishment The child had disappeared. "Well," said Lucile ruefully, "I guess that about ends this night's adventure." "I guess so," admitted Florence. The lights of an all-night drug store burned brightly across the street. "That calls for hot chocolate," said Florence. "It's what I get for moralizing. If I hadn't been going on at such a rate we would have kept sight of her." They lingered for some time over hot chocolate and wafers. They were waiting for a surface car to carry them home when, on hearing low but excited words, they turned about to behold to their vast astonishment their little mystery child being led along by the collar of her dress. The person dragging her forward was an evil looking woman who appeared slightly the worse for drink. "So that's the trick," they heard her snarl. "So you would run away! Such an ungratefulness. After all we done for you. Now you shall beg harder than ever." "No, I won't beg," the girl answered in a small but determined voice. "And I shan't steal either. You can kill me first." "Well, we'll see, my fine lady," growled the woman. All this time the child was being dragged forward. As she came opposite the two girls, the woman gave a harder tug than before and the girl almost fell. Something dropped to the sidewalk, but the woman did not notice it, and the child evidently did not care, for they passed on. Lucile stooped and picked it up. It was the paper lunch box they had seen the child carrying earlier in the evening. "Something in it," she said, shaking it. "Lucile," said Florence in a tense whisper, "are we going to let that beast of a woman get that child? She doesn't belong to her, or if she does, she oughtn't to. I'm good for a fight." Lucile's face blanched. "Here in this city wilderness," she breathed. "Anywhere for the good of a child. Come on." Florence was away after the woman and child at a rapid rate. "We'll get the child free. Then we'll get out," breathed Florence. "We don't want any publicity." Fortune favored their plan. The woman, still dragging the child, who was by now silently weeping, hurried into a narrow dismal alley. Suddenly as she looked about at sound of a footstep behind her, she was seized in two vises and hurled by some mechanism of steel and bronze a dozen feet in air, to land in an alley doorway. At least so it seemed to her, nor was it far from the truth. For Florence's months of gymnasium work had turned her muscles into things of steel and bronze. It was she who had seized the woman. It was all done so swiftly that the woman had no time to cry out. When she rose to her feet, the alley was deserted. The child had fled in one direction, while the two girls had stepped quietly out into the street in the other direction and, apparently quite unperturbed, were waiting for a car. "Look," said Lucile, "I've still got it. It's the child's lunch basket. There's something in it." "There's our car," said Florence in a relieved tone. The next moment they were rattling homeward. "We solved no mystery to-night," murmured Lucile sleepily. "Added one more to the rest," smiled Florence. "But now I _am_ interested. We must see it through." "Did you hear what the child said, that she'd rather die than steal?" "Wonder what she calls the taking of our Shakespeare?" "That's part of our problem. Continued in our next," smiled Lucile. She set the dilapidated papier-mache lunch box which she had picked up in the street after the child had dropped it, in the corner beneath the cloak rack. Before she fell asleep she thought of it and wondered what had been thumping round inside of it. "Probably just an old, dried-up sandwich," she told herself. "Anyway, I'm too weary to get up and look now. I'll look in the morning." One other thought entered her consciousness before she fell asleep. Or was it a thought? Perhaps just one or two mental pictures. The buildings, the street, the electric signs that had encountered her gaze as they first saw the child and the half-drunk woman passed before her mind's eye. Then, almost instantly, the picture of the street on which the building in which Frank Morrow's book shop was located flashed before her. "That's queer!" she murmured. "I do believe they were the same!" "And indeed," she thought dreamily, "why should they not be? They are both down in the heart of the city and I am forever losing my sense of location down there." At that she fell asleep. CHAPTER VI "ONE CAN NEVER TELL" When Lucile awoke in the morning she remembered the occurrence of the night before as some sort of bad dream. It seemed inconceivable that she and Florence, a couple of co-eds, should have thrown themselves upon a rough-looking woman in the heart of the city on a street with which they were totally unfamiliar. Had they done this to free a child about whom they knew nothing save that she had stolen two valuable books? "Did we?" she asked sleepily. "Did we what?" smiled Florence, drawing the comb through her hair. "Did we rescue that child from that woman?" "I guess we did." "Why did we do it?" "That's what I've been wondering." Lucile sat up in bed and thought for a moment. She gazed out of the window at the lovely green and the magnificent Gothic architecture spread out before her. She thought of the wretched alleys and tumble-down tenements which would greet the eye of that mysterious child when she awoke. "Anyway," she told herself, "we saved her from something even worse, I do believe. We sent her back to her little old tottering man. I do think she loves him, though who he is, her grandfather or what, I haven't the faintest notion. "Anyway I'm glad we did it," she said. "Did what?" panted Florence, who by this time was going through her morning exercises. "Saved the child." "Yes, so am I." The papier-mache lunch box remained in its place in the dark corner when they went to breakfast Both girls had completely forgotten it. Had Lucile dreamed what it contained she would not have passed it up for a thousand breakfasts. Since she didn't, she stepped out into the bright morning sunshine, and drinking in deep breaths of God's fresh air, gave thanks that she was alive. The day passed as all schooldays pass, with study, lectures, laboratory work, then dinner as evening comes. In the evening paper an advertisement in the "Lost, Strayed or Stolen" column caught her eye. It read: "REWARD "Will pay $100.00 reward for the return of small copy of The Compleat Angler which disappeared from the Morrow Book Shop on November 3." It was signed by Frank Morrow. "Why, that's strange!" she murmured. "I do believe that was the book he showed me only yesterday, the little first edition which was worth sixteen hundred dollars. How strange!" A queer sinking sensation came over her. "I--I wonder if she could have taken it," she whispered, "that child? "No, no," she whispered emphatically after a moment's thought. "And, yet, there was the gargoyle bookmark in the inside cover, the same as in our Shakespeare. How strange! It might be--and, yet, one can never tell." That evening was Lucile's regular period at the library, so, much as she should have liked delving more deeply into the mystery which had all but taken possession of her, she was obliged to bend over a desk checking off books. Working with her was Harry Brock, a fellow student. Harry was the kind of fellow one speaks of oftenest as a "nice boy." Clean, clear-cut, carefully dressed, studious, energetic and accurate, he set an example which was hard to follow. He had taken a brotherly interest in Lucile from the start and had helped her over many hard places in the library until she learned her duties. Shortly after she had come in he paused by her desk and said in a quiet tone: "Do you know, I'm worried about the disappearance of that set of Shakespeare. Sort of gives our section a long black mark. Can't see where it's disappeared to." Lucile drew in a long breath. What was he driving at? Did he suspect? Did he-- "If I wasn't so sure our records were perfect," he broke in on her mental questioning, "I'd say it was tucked away somewhere and would turn up. But we've all been careful. It just can't be here." He paused as if in reflection, then said suddenly: "Do you think one would ever be justified in protecting a person whom he knew had stolen something?" Lucile started. What did he mean? Did he suspect something? Had he perhaps seen her enter the library on one of those nights of her watching? Did he suspect her? For a second the color rushed flaming to her cheeks. But, fortunately, he was looking away. The next second she was her usual calm self. "Why, yes," she said steadily, "I think one might, if one felt that there were circumstances about the apparent theft which were not clearly understood. "You know," she said as a sudden inspiration seized her, "we've just finished reading Victor Hugo's story of Jean Valjean in French. Translating a great story a little each day, bit by bit, is such a wonderful way of doing it. And that is the greatest story that ever was written. Have you read it?" He nodded. "Well, then you remember how that poor fellow stole a loaf of bread to feed his sister's hungry children and how, without trying to find out about things and be just, they put him in prison. Then, because he tried to get out, they kept him there years and years. Then when they at last let him out, in spite of it all, after he had come into contact with a beautiful, unselfish old man, he became one of the most wonderful characters the world may hope to know. Just think how wonderful his earlier years, wasted in prison, might have been if someone had only tried a little to understand." "You're good," smiled Harry. "When I get arrested I'll have you for my lawyer." Lucile, once more quite herself, laughed heartily. Then she suddenly sobered. "If I were you," she said in a low tone, "I shouldn't worry too much about that set of Shakespeare. Someway I have an idea that it will show up in its own good time." Harry shot her a quick look, then as he turned to walk away, said in a tone of forced lightness: "Oh! All right." The following night they were free to return to the scene of the mystery, the cottage on dreary Tyler street where the old man and the strange child lived. A light shone out of the window with the torn shade as they loitered along in front of the place as before. Much to their surprise, not ten minutes had passed when the child stole forth. "We were just in time," breathed Florence. "Dressed just as she was on the first night I saw her," Lucile whispered as the child passed them. "She's making for the elevated station this time," said Florence as they hurried along after her. "That means a long trip and you are tired. Why don't you let me follow her alone?" "Why I--" Lucile cut her speech short to grip her companion's arm. "Florence," she whispered excitedly, "did you hear a footstep behind us?" "Why, yes, I--" Florence hesitated. Lucile broke in: "There was one. I am sure of it, and just now as I looked about there was no one in sight. You don't think someone could suspect--be shadowing us?" "Of course not." "It might be that woman who tried to carry the child away." "I think not. That was in another part of the city. Probably just nothing at all." "Yes, yes, there it is now. I hear it. Look about quick." "No one in sight," said Florence. "It's your nerves. You'd better go home and get a good night's sleep." They parted hurriedly at the station. Florence swung onto the train boarded by the child, a train which she knew would carry her to the north side, directly away from the university. "Probably be morning before I get in," she grumbled to herself. "What a wild chase!" Yet, as she stole a glance now and then at the child, who, all unconscious of her scrutiny, sat curled up in the corner of a near-by seat, she felt that, after all, she was worth the effort being made for her. "Whosoever saveth a soul from destruction," she whispered to herself as the train rattled on over the river on its way north. In the meantime Lucile had boarded a south-bound car. She was not a little troubled by the thought of those footsteps behind them on the sidewalk. She knew it was not her nerves. "Someone _was_ following us!" she whispered to herself. "I wonder who and why." She puzzled over it all the way home; was puzzling over it still when she left her car at the university. Somewhat to her surprise she saw Harry Brock leave the same train. He appeared almost to be avoiding her but when she called to him he turned about and smiled. "So glad to have someone to walk those five lonely blocks with," she smiled. "Pleasure mutual," he murmured, but he seemed ill at ease. Lucile glanced at him curiously. "He can't think I've got a crush on him," she told herself. "Our friendship's had too much of the ordinary in it for that. I wonder what is the matter with him." Conversation on the way to the university grounds rambled along over commonplaces. Each studiously avoided any reference to the mystery of the missing books. Lucile was distinctly relieved as he left her at the dormitory door. "Well," she heaved a sigh, "whatever could have come over him? He has always been so frank and fine. I wonder if he suspects--but, no, how could he?" As she hung her wrap in the corner of her room, her eye fell upon the papier-mache lunch box. Her hand half reached for it, then she drew it back and flung herself into a chair. "To-morrow," she murmured. "I'm so tired." Fifteen minutes later she was in her bed fast asleep, dreaming of her pal, and in that dream she saw her rattling on and on and on forever through the night. CHAPTER VII THE VANISHING PORTLAND CHART Florence was not rattling on and on through the night as Lucile dreamed. Some two miles from the heart of the city her journey on the elevated came to a halt. The child left the car and went bounding down the steps. Not many moments passed before Florence realized that her destination was a famous library, the Newburg. Before she knew it the massive structure of gray sandstone loomed up before her. And before she could realize what was happening, the child had darted through the door and lost herself in the labyrinth of halls, stairways and passageways which led to hundreds of rooms where books were stacked or where huge oak tables invited one to pause and read. "She's gone!" Florence gasped. "Now how shall I find her?" Walking with all the speed that proper conduct in such a spacious and dignified hostelry of books would allow, she passed from room to room, from floor to floor, until, footsore and weary, without the least notion of the kind of room she was in or whether she was welcome or not, she at last threw herself into a chair to rest. "She's escaped me!" she sighed. "And I promised to keep in touch with her. What a mess! But the child's a witch. Who could be expected to keep up with her?" "Are you interested in the exhibit?" It was the well-modulated tone of a trained librarian that interrupted her train of thought. The question startled her. "The--er--" she stammered. "Why, yes, very much." What the exhibit might be she had not the remotest notion. "Ah, yes," the lady sighed. "Portland charts are indeed interesting. Perhaps you should like to have me explain some of them to you?" "Portland charts." That did sound interesting. It suggested travel. If there was any one thing Florence was interested in, it was travel. "Why, yes," she said eagerly, "I would." "The most ancient ones," said the librarian, indicating a glass case, "are here. Here you see one that was made in 1440, some time before Columbus sailed for America. These maps were made for mariners. Certain men took it up as a life work, the making of Portland charts. It is really very wonderful, when you think of it. How old they are, four or five hundred years, yet the coloring is as perfect as if they were done but yesterday." Florence listened eagerly. This was indeed interesting. "You see," smiled the librarian, "in those days nothing much was known of what is now the new world, but from time to time ships lost at sea drifted about to land at last on strange shores. These they supposed were shores of islands. When they returned they related their experiences and a new island was stuck somewhere on the map. The exact location could not be discovered, so they might make a mistake of a thousand or more miles in locating them, but that didn't really matter, for no one ever went to them again." "What a time to dream of," sighed Florence. "What an age of mysteries!" "Yes, wasn't it? But there are mysteries quite as wonderful to-day. Only trouble is, we don't see them." "And sometimes we do see them but can't solve them." Florence was thinking of the mystery that thus far was her property and her chum's. "The maps were sometimes bound in thin books very much like an atlas," the librarian explained. "Here is one that is very rare." She indicated a book in a case. The book was open at the first map with the inside of the front cover showing. Florence was about to pass it with a glance when something in the upper outside corner of the cover caught and held her attention. It was the picture of a gargoyle with a letter L surrounding two sides of it. It was a bookmark and, though she had not seen the mark in the missing Shakespeare, she knew from Lucile's description of it that this must be an exact duplicate. "Probably from the same library originally," she thought. "I suppose these charts are worth a great deal of money," she ventured. "Oh! yes. A great deal. One doesn't really set a price on such things. These were the gift of a rich man. It is the finest collection except one in America." As Florence turned to pass on, she was startled to see the mysterious child who had escaped from her sight nearly an hour before, standing not ten feet from her. She was apparently much interested in the cherubs done in blue ink on one chart and used to indicate the prevailing direction of the winds. "Ah, now I have you!" she sighed. "There is but one door to this room. I will watch the door, not you. When you leave the room, I will follow." With the corner of an eye on that door, she sauntered from case to case for another quarter of an hour. Then seized with a sudden desire to examine the chart book with the gargoyle in the corner of its cover, she drifted toward it. Scarcely could she believe her eyes as she gave the case a glance. _The chart book was gone._ Consternation seized her. She was about to cry out when the thought suddenly came to her that the book had probably been removed by the librarian. The next moment a suggestion that the ancient map book and the presence of the child in the room had some definite connection flashed through her mind. Hurriedly her eye swept the room. The child was gone! There remained now not one particle of doubt in her mind. "She took it," she whispered. "I wonder why." Instantly her mind was in a commotion. Should she tell what she knew? At first she thought she ought, yet deliberation led to silence, for, after all, what did she know? She had not seen the child take the book. She had seen her in the room, that was all. And now the librarian, sauntering past the case, noted the loss. The color left her face, but that was all. If anything, her actions were more deliberate than before. Gliding to a desk, she pressed a button. The next moment a man appeared. She spoke a few words. Her tone was low, her lips steady. The man sauntered by the case, glanced about the room, then walked out of the door. Not a word, not an outcry. A book worth thousands had vanished. Yet as she left the library, Florence felt how impossible it would have been for her to have carried that book with her. She passed four eagle-eyed men before she reached the outside door and each one searched her from head to foot quite as thoroughly as an X-ray might have done. "All the same," she breathed, as she reached the cool, damp outer air of night, "the bird has flown, your Portland chart book is gone, for the time at least. "Question is," she told herself, "what am I going to do about it?" CHAPTER VIII WHAT WAS IN THE PAPIER-MACHE LUNCH BOX "We can tell whether she really took it," said Lucile after listening to Florence's story of her strange experiences in the Portland chart room of the famous old library. "We'll go back to Tyler street and look in at the window with the torn shade. If she took it, it's sure to be in the empty space in the book-shelf. Looks like he was trying to fill that space." "He's awfully particular about how it's filled," laughed Florence. "He might pick up enough old books in a secondhand store to fill the whole space and not spend more than a dollar." "Isn't it strange!" mused Lucile. "He might pack a hundred thousand dollars' worth of old books in a space two feet long, and will at the rate he's going." "The greatest mystery after all is the gargoyle in the corner of each book they take," said Florence, wrinkling her brow. "He seems to be sort of specializing in those books. They are taken probably from a private library that has been sold and scattered." "That is strange!" said Lucile. "The whole affair is most mysterious! And, by the way," she smiled, "I have never taken the trouble to look into that papier-mache lunch box the child lost on the street, the night we rescued her from that strange and terrible woman. There might possibly be some clue in it." "Might," agreed Florence. Now that the thought had occurred to them, they were eager to inspect the box. Lucile's fingers trembled as they unloosed the clasps which held it shut. And well they might have trembled, for, as it was thrown open, it revealed a small book done in a temporary binding of vellum. Lucile gave it one glance, then with a little cry of surprise, dropped it as if it were on fire. "Why! Why! What?" exclaimed Florence in astonishment. "It's Frank Morrow's book, Walton's 'Compleat Angler.' The first edition. The one worth sixteen hundred dollars. And it's been right here in this room all the time!" Lucile sank into a chair and there sat staring at the strangely found book. "Isn't that queer!" said Florence at last. "She--she'd been to his shop. Got into the building just the way you said she would, by posing as a scrubwoman's child, and had made a safe escape when that woman for some mysterious reason grabbed her and tried to carry her off." "Looks that way," said Florence. "And I guess that's a clear enough case against her, if our Shakespeare one isn't. You'll tell Frank Morrow and he'll have her arrested, of course." "I--I don't know," hesitated Lucile. "I'm really no surer that that's the thing to do than I was before. There is something so very strange about it all." The book fell open in her hand. The inside of the front cover was exposed to view. The gargoyle in the corner stared up at her. "It's the gargoyle!" she exclaimed. "Why always the gargoyle? And how could a child with a face like hers consciously commit a theft?" For a time they sat silently staring at the gargoyle. At last Lucile spoke. "I think I'll go and talk with Frank Morrow." "Will you tell him all about it?" "I--I don't know." Florence looked puzzled. "Are you going to take the book?" Lucile hesitated. "No," she said after a moment's thought, "I think I sha'n't." "Why--what--" Florence paused, took one look at her roommate's face, then went about the business of gathering up material for a class lecture. "Sometimes," she said after a moment, "I think you are as big a riddle as the mystery you are trying to solve." "Why?" Lucile exclaimed. "I am only trying to treat everyone fairly." "Which can't be done," laughed Florence. "There is an old proverb which runs like this: 'To do right by all men is an art which no one knows.'" Lucile approached the shop of Frank Morrow in a troubled state of mind. She had Frank Morrow's valuable book. She wished to play fair with him. She must, sooner or later, return it to him. Perhaps even at this moment he might have a customer for the book. Time lost might mean a sale lost, yet she did not wish to return it, not at this time. She did not wish even so much as to admit that she had the book in her possession. To do so would be to put herself in a position which required further explaining. The book had been carried away from the bookshop. Probably it had been stolen. Had she herself taken it? If not, who then? Where was the culprit? Why should not such a person be punished? These were some of the questions she imagined Frank Morrow asking her, and, for the present, she did not wish to answer them. At last, just as the elevator mounted toward the upper floors, she thought she saw a way out. "Anyway, I'll try it," she told herself. She found Frank Morrow alone in his shop. He glanced up at her from over an ancient volume he had been scanning, then rose to bid her welcome. "Well, what will it be to-day?" he smiled. "A folio edition of Shakespeare or only the original manuscript of one of his plays?" "Oh," she smiled back, "are there really original manuscripts of Shakespeare's plays?" "Not that anyone has ever discovered. But, my young lady, if you chance to come across one, I'll pledge to sell it for you for a million dollars flat and not charge you a cent commission." "Oh!" breathed Lucile, "that would be marvelous." Then suddenly she remembered her reason for being there. "Please may I take a chair?" she asked, her lips aquiver with some new excitement. "By all means." Frank Morrow himself sank into a chair. "Mr. Morrow," said Lucile, poising on the very edge of the chair while she clasped and unclasped her hands, "if I were to tell you that I know exactly where your book is, the one worth sixteen hundred dollars; the Compleat Angler, what would you say?" Frank Morrow let a paperweight he had been toying with crash down upon the top of his desk, yet as he turned to look at her there was no emotion expressed upon his face, a whimsical smile, that was all. "I'd say you were a fortunate girl. You probably know I offered a hundred dollar reward for its return. This morning I doubled that." Lucile's breath came short and quick. She had completely forgotten the reward. She would be justly entitled to it. And what wouldn't two hundred dollars mean to her? Clothes she had longed for but could not afford; leisure for more complete devotion to her studies; all this and much more could be purchased with two hundred dollars. For a moment she wavered. What was the use? The whole proposition if put fairly to the average person, she knew, would sound absurd. To protect two persons whom you have never met nor even spoken to; to protect them when to all appearances they were committing one theft after another, with no excuse which at the moment might be discovered; how ridiculous! Yet, even as she wavered, she saw again the face of that child, heard again the shuffling footstep of the tottering old man, thought of the gargoyle mystery; then resolved to stand her ground. "I do know exactly where your book is," she said steadily. "But if I were to tell you that for the present I did not wish to have you ask me where it was, what would you say?" "Why," he smiled as before, "I would say that this was a great old world, full of many mysteries that have never been solved. I should say that a mere book was nothing to stand between good friends." He put out a hand to clasp hers. "When you wish to tell me where the book is or to see that it is returned, drop in or call me on the phone. The reward will be waiting for you." Lucile's face was flushed as she rose to go. She wished to tell him all, yet did not dare. "But--but you might have a customer waiting for that book," she exclaimed. "One might," he smiled. "In such an event I should say that the customer would be obliged to continue to wait." Lucile moved toward the door and as she did so she barely missed bumping into an immaculately tailored young man, with all too pink cheeks and a budding moustache. "I beg your pardon," he apologized. "It was my fault," said Lucile much confused. The young man turned to Frank Morrow. "Show up yet?" he asked. "Not yet." "Well?" "I'll let you know if it does." "Yes, do. I have a notion I know where there's another copy." "Well, I'll be sorry to lose the sale, but I can't promise delivery at any known date now." "Perhaps not at all?" "Perhaps." The young man bowed his way out so quickly that Lucile was still in the shop. "That," smiled Frank Morrow, "is R. Stanley Ramsey, Jr., a son of one of our richest men. He wanted 'The Compleat Angler.'" He turned to his work as if he had been speaking of a mere trifle. Lucile was overwhelmed. So he did have a customer who was impatient of waiting and might seek a copy elsewhere? Why, this Frank Morrow was a real sport! She found herself wanting more than ever to tell him everything and to assure him that the book would be on his desk in two hours' time. She considered. But again the face of the child framed in a circle of light came before her. Again on the street at night in the clutches of a vile woman, she heard her say, "I won't steal. I'll die first." Then with a sigh she tiptoed toward the door. "By the way," Frank Morrow's voice startled her, "you live over at the university, don't you?" "Yes." "Mind doing me a favor?" "Certainly not." "The Silver-Barnard binderies are only two blocks from your station. You'll almost pass them. They bind books by hand; fine books, you know. I have two very valuable books which must be bound in leather. I'd hate to trust them to an ordinary messenger and I can't take them myself. Would you mind taking them along?" "N--no," Lucile was all but overcome by this token of his confidence in her. "Thanks." He wrapped the two books carefully and handed them to her, adding, as he did so: "Ask for Mr. Silver himself and don't let anyone else have them. Perhaps," he suggested as an afterthought, "you'd like to be shown through the bindery. It's rather an interesting place." "Indeed I should. Anything that has to do with books interests me." He scribbled a note on a bit of paper. "That'll let you through," he smiled, "and no thanks due. 'One good turn,' you know." He bowed her out of the room. She found Mr. Silver to be a brisk person with a polite and obliging manner. It was with a deep sense of relief that she saw the books safely in his hands. She had seen so much of vanishing books these last few days that she feared some strange magic trick might spirit them from her before they reached their destination. The note requesting that she be taken through the bindery she kept for another time. She must hurry back to the university now. "It will be a real treat," she told herself. "There are few really famous binderies in our country. And this is one of them." Little she realized as she left the long, low building which housed the bindery, what part it was destined to play in the mystery she was attempting to unravel. She returned to the university and to her studies. That night she and Florence went once more to Tyler street, to the tumble-down cottage where the two mysterious persons lived, and there the skein of mystery was thrown into a new tangle. CHAPTER IX SHADOWED A cold fog hung low over the city as the two girls stole forth from the elevated station that night on their way to Tyler street. From the trestlework of the elevated there came a steady drip-drip; the streets reeked with damp and chill; the electric lamps seemed but balls of light suspended in space. "B-r-r!" said Florence, drawing her wraps more closely about her. "What a night!" "Sh!" whispered Lucile, dragging her into a corner. "There's someone following us again." Scarcely had she spoken the words when a man with collar turned up and cap pulled low passed within four feet of them. He traveled with a long, swinging stride. Lucile fancied that she recognized that stride, but she could not be sure; also, for the moment she could not remember who the person was who walked in this fashion. "Only some man returning to his home," said Florence. "This place gets on your nerves." "Perhaps," said Lucile. As they reached the street before the cottage of many mysteries they were pleased to see lights streaming from the rent in the shade. "At least we shall be able to tell whether they have the book of Portland charts," sighed Lucile as she prepared to make a dash for the shadows. "Now," she breathed; "there's no one in sight." Like two lead-colored drifts of fog they glided into a place by the window. Lucile was first to look. The place seemed quite familiar to her. Indeed, at first glance she would have said that nothing was changed. The old man sat in his chair. Half in a doze, he had doubtless drifted into the sort of day-dream that old persons often indulge in. The child, too, sat by the table. She was sewing. That she meant to go out later was proved by the fact that her coat and tam-o'-shanter lay on a near-by chair. As I have said, Lucile's first thought was that nothing had changed. One difference, however, did not escape her. Two books had been added to the library. The narrow, unfilled space had been narrowed still further. One book was tall, too tall for the space which it was supposed to occupy, so tall that it leaned a little to the right. The other book did not appear to be an old volume. On the contrary its back was bright and shiny as if just coming from the press. It was highly ornamented with figures and a title done all in gold. These fairly flashed in the lamplight. "That's strange!" she whispered to herself. But even as she thought it, she realized that this was no ordinary publishers' binding. "Leather," she told herself, "rich leather binding and I shouldn't wonder if the letters and decorations were done in pure gold." Without knowing exactly why she did it, she made a mental note of every figure which played a part in the decorating of the back of that book. Then suddenly remembering her companion and their problem, she touched her arm as she whispered: "Look! Is that tall book second from the end on the shelf with the vacant space the Portland chart book?" Florence pressed her face to the glass and peered for the first time into the room of mysteries. For a full two minutes she allowed the scene to be photographed on the sensitive plates of her brain. Then turning slowly away she whispered: "Yes, I believe it is." They were just thinking of seeking a place of greater safety when a footstep sounded on the pavement close at hand. Crouching low they waited the stranger's passing. To their consternation, he did not pass but turned in at the short walk which led up to the cottage. Crouching still lower, scarcely breathing, they waited. The man made his way directly to the door. After apparently fumbling about for an electric button, he suddenly flashed out an electric torch. With an inaudible gasp Florence prepared to drag her companion out of their place of danger. But to their intense relief the man flashed the light off, then gave the door a resounding knock. That one flash of light had been sufficient to reveal to Lucile the features of his face. She recognized it instantly. In her surprise she gripped her companion's arm until she was ready to cry out with pain. The door flew open. The man entered. The door was closed. "Look!" whispered Lucile, pressing Florence toward the spot where the light streamed out. "Look, I know him." She gave Florence but a half moment, then dragging her from the place of vantage pressed her own face to the glass. "This would be abominable," she whispered, "if it weren't for the fact that we are trying to help them--trying to find a way out." The man, a very young man with a slight moustache, had removed his coat and hat and had taken a seat. He was talking to the old man. He did the greater part of the talking. Every now and again he would pause and the old man would shake his head. This pantomime was kept up for some time. At last the young man rose and walked toward the bookshelves. The old man half rose in his chair as if to detain him, then settled back again. The young man's eyes roved over the books, then came to rest suddenly in a certain spot. Then his hand went out. The old man sprang to his feet. There were words on his lips. What they were the girls could not tell. Smiling with the good-natured grace of one who is accustomed to have what he desires, the young man opened the book to glance at the title page. At once his face became eager. He glanced hurriedly through the book. He turned to put a question to the old man beside him. The old man nodded. Instantly the young man's hand was in his pocket. The two girls shrank back in fear. But the thing he took from his pocket was a small book, apparently a check book. Speaking, he held the check book toward the old man. The old man shook his head. This touch of drama was repeated three times. Then, with a disappointed look on his face, the young man replaced the book, turned to the chair on which his hat and coat rested, put them on, said good night to the old man, bowed to the child and was gone. The two girls, after stretching their cramped limbs, made their way safely to the sidewalk. "Who--who was he?" whispered Florence through chattering teeth. "R. Stanley Ramsey." "Not the rich Ramsey?" "His son." "What did he want?" "I don't know," said Lucile, "but it may be that we have found the man higher up, the real criminal. It may be that this rich young fellow is getting them to steal the books so he can buy them cheap." Lucile told of the incident regarding the copy of "The Compleat Angler." "He said he thought he knew where there was another copy. Don't you see, he may have gotten the girl to steal it. And now he comes for it and is disappointed because they haven't got it for him." "It might be," said Florence doubtfully, "but it doesn't seem probable, does it? He must have plenty of money." "Perhaps his father doesn't give him a large allowance. Then, again, perhaps, he thinks such things are smart. They say that some rich men's sons are that way. There's something that happened in there though that I don't understand. He--" "Hist," whispered Florence, dragging her into a slow walk; "here comes the child." Once more they saw the slim wisp of a girl steal out like a ghost into the night. CHAPTER X MYSTERIES OF THE SEA The trail over which the mystery child led them that night revealed nothing. Indeed, she eluded them, escaping the moment she left the elevated train at a down town station. "Nothing to do but go home," said Florence in a disappointed tone. "Oh, well, cheer up," smiled Lucile. "We've had a new chapter added to our mystery, as well as a whole new character who promises to become interesting. But look, Florence," she whispered suddenly. "No, don't stare, just glance down toward the end of the platform. See that man?" "The one with his collar turned up and with his back to us?" "Yes." "That's the man who passed us when we were on our way to the mystery cottage." "Are you sure?" "Can't be mistaken. Same coat, same hat, same everything." "Why then--" Florence checked herself. A moment later she said in a quiet tone of voice: "Lucile, don't you think it's about time we waded ashore? Came clear and got out of this affair; turned facts over to the authorities and allowed them to take their course?" Lucile was silent for a moment. Then suddenly she shivered all over and whispered tensely: "No--no, not quite yet." "We may get in over our necks." "I can swim. Can't you?" "I'll try," Florence laughed, and there for the time the matter ended. Lucile worked in the library two hours the next day. One fact could not escape her attention. Harry Brock had been losing a lot of sleep. She saw him rubbing his eyes from time to time and once he actually nodded over his records. "Been studying late?" she asked in friendly sympathy. He shot her a quick, penetrating glance, then, seeming to catch himself, said, "Oh, yes, quite a bit." That afternoon, finding study difficult and being in need of a theme for a special article to be written for English 5b, she decided to use her card of admittance to the bindery and glean the material for the theme from that institution. She could scarcely have chosen a more fitting subject, for there are few places more interesting than a famous book bindery. Unfortunately, something occurred while she was there that quite drove all the thoughts of her theme out of her head and added to her already over-burdened shoulders an increased weight of responsibility. A famous bindery is a place of many wonders. The stitching machines, the little and great presses, the glowing fires that heat irons for the stamping, all these and many more lend an air of industry, mystery and fine endeavor to the place. Not in the general bindery, where thousands of books are bound each day, did Lucile find her chief interest, however. It was when she had been shown into a small side room, into which the natural sunlight shone through a broad window, that she realized that she had reached the heart of the place. "This," said the young man attending her, "is the hand bindery. Few books are bound here; sometimes not more than six a year, but they are handsomely, wonderfully bound. Mr. Kirkland, the head of this department, will tell you all about it. I hear my autophone call. I will come for you a little later." Lucile was not sorry to be left alone in such a room. It was a place of rare enchantment. Seated at their benches, bending over their work, with their blue fires burning before them, were three skilled workmen. They were more than workmen; they were artists. The work turned out by them rivaled in beauty and perfection the canvas of the most skilled painter. They wrought in inlaid leather and gold; the artist in crayon and oils. The artist uses palette, knife and brush; their steel tools were fashioned to suit their art. Ranged along one side of the room was a long rack in which these tools were kept. There were hundreds of them, and each tool had its place. Every now and again from the benches there came a hot sizzling sound, which meant that one of these tools was being tested after having been heated over the flame. Seeing her looking at the rack of tools, the head workman, a broad-shouldered man with a pleasant smile and keen blue eyes, turned toward her. "Would you like to have me tell you a little about them?" he asked. "Indeed I should." "Those tools once belonged to Hans Wiemar, the most famous man ever known to the craft. After he died I bought them from his widow. He once spent three years binding a single book. It was to be presented to the king of England. He was a very skillful artisan. "We bind some pretty fine books here, too," he said modestly. "Here is one I am only just beginning. You see it is a very large book, a book of poetry printed in the original German. I shall be at least two months doing it. "The last one I had was much smaller but it was to have taken me four months." A shadow passed over his face. "Did--did you finish it?" asked Lucile, a tone of instinctive sympathy in her voice. "It was an ancient French book, done in the oldest French type. It was called 'Mysteries of the Sea,'" he went on without answering her question. "This was the tool we used most on it," he said, holding out the edge of a steel tool for her inspection. "You see, the metal is heated and pressed into the leather in just the right way, then gold, twenty-two carat gold, is pressed into the creases that are left and we have a figure in gold as a result. This one you see is in the form of an ancient sailing ship." Lucile started, then examined the tool more carefully. "Here is another tool we used. It represents clouds. This one makes the water. You see we use appropriate tools. The book was about ships and the sea, written before the time of Columbus." He was silent for a moment, then said slowly, a look of pain coming into his fine face, "I suppose I might as well tell you. The book was stolen, stolen from my bench during the lunch hour." Lucile started violently. The artist stared at her for a second, then went on. "Of course, I can't be held responsible, yet no doubt they blame me in a way. The book was very valuable--worth thousands of dollars. And it would have been finished in two days." He bowed his head as if in silent grief. "Please," Lucile's lips quivered with emotion as she spoke, "did the book have three of these ancient ship designs on the back of it, one large and two small?" "Yes." "And was it done in dark red leather with the decorations all in gold?" "Yes, yes!" the man's tones were eager. "And, and," Lucile whispered the words, "was there a bookmark in the upper corner of the inside of the front cover?" "Yes, yes, yes!" He uttered the words in a tense whisper. "How can you know so much about the book?" "Please," pleaded Lucile, "I can't tell you now. But per--perhaps I can help you." "I will take you to our president, to Mr. Silver." "Please--please--no--not now. Please let me go now. I must think. I will come back--truly--truly I will." With the instinct of a born gentleman he escorted her to a side door and let her out. The sunshine, as she emerged, seemed unreal to her. Everything seemed unreal. "The gargoyle! The gargoyle!" she whispered hoarsely. "Can I never escape it? Can I go no place without discovering that books marked with that hated, haunting sign have been stolen? That book, the hand-bound copy of 'Mysteries of the Sea,' is the latest acquirement of the old man in the mystery cottage on Tyler street. She stole it; the child stole it. And why? Why? It seems that I should tell all that I know," she whispered to herself, "that it is my duty. Surely the thing can't go on." She bathed her flushed cheeks in the outer air. "And yet," she thought more calmly, "there are the old man, the child. There _is_ something back of it all. The gargoyle's secret. Oh! if only one knew!" CHAPTER XI LUCILE SHARES HER SECRET As Lucile returned to her room it seemed to her that she was being hedged about on all sides by friends who had a right to demand that she reveal the secret hiding-place of the stolen books. The university which had done so much for her, Frank Morrow, her father's friend, the great scientific library which was a friend to all, and now this splendid artist who worked in leather and gold; they all appeared to be reaching out their hands to her. In her room for two hours she paced the floor. Then she came to a decision. "I'll tell one of them; tell the whole story and leave it to him. Who shall it be?" The answer came to her instantly: Frank Morrow. "Yes, he's the one," she whispered. "He's the most human of them all. White-haired as he is, I believe he can understand the heart of a child and--and of a girl like me." She found him busy with some customers. When he had completed the sale and the customers had gone, she drew her chair close to his and told him the story frankly from beginning to end. The only thing she left out was the fact that she held suspicions against the young millionaire's son. "If there's ground for suspicion, he'll discover it," she told herself. Frank Morrow listened attentively. At times he leaned forward with the light on his face that one sometimes sees upon the face of a boy who is hearing a good story of pirates and the sea. "Well," he dampened his lips as she finished, "well!" For some time after that there was silence in the room, a silence so profound that the ticking of Frank Morrow's watch sounded loud as a grandfather's clock. At last Frank Morrow wheeled about in his chair and spoke. "You know, Miss Lucile," he said slowly, "I am no longer a child, except in spirit. I have read a great deal. I have thought a great deal, sitting alone in this chair, both by day and by night. Very often I have thought of us, of the whole human race, of our relation to the world, to the being who created us and to one another. "I have come to think of life like this," he said, his eyes kindling. "It may seem a rather gloomy philosophy of life, but when you think of it, it's a mighty friendly one. I think of the whole human race as being on a huge raft in mid-ocean. There's food and water enough for everyone if all of us are saving, careful and kind. Not one of us knows how we came on the raft. No one knows whither we are bound. From time to time we hear the distant waves break on some shore, but what shore we cannot tell. The earth, of course, is our raft and the rest of the universe our sea. "What's the answer to all this? Just this much: Since we are so situated, the greatest, best thing, the thing that will bring us the greatest amount of real happiness, is to be kind to all, especially those weaker than ourselves, just as we would if we were adrift on a raft in the Atlantic. "Without all this philosophy, you have caught the spirit of the thing. I can't advise you. I can only offer to assist you in any way you may suggest. It's a strange case. The old man is doubtless a crank. Many book collectors are. It may be, however, that there is some stronger hand back of it all. The girl appears to be the old man's devoted slave and is too young truly to understand right from wrong. I should say, however, that she is clever far beyond her years." Lucile left the shop strengthened and encouraged. She had not found a solution to her problem but had been told by one much older and wiser than she that she was not going at the affair in the wrong way. She had received his assurance of his assistance at any time when it seemed needed. That night a strange thing happened. Lucile had learned by repeated experience that very often the solution of life's perplexing problems comes to us when we are farthest from them and engaged in work or pursuit of pleasure which is most remote from them. Someone had given her a ticket to the opera. Being a lover of music, she had decided to abandon her work and the pursuit of the all-absorbing mystery, to forget herself listening to outbursts of enchanting song. The outcome had been all that she might hope for. Lost in the great swells of music which came to her from hundreds of voices or enchanted by the range and beauty of a single voice, she forgot all until the last curtain had been called and the crowd thronged out. There was a flush on her cheek and new light in her eyes as she felt the cool outer air of the street. She had walked two blocks to her station and was about to mount the stairs when, to her utter astonishment, she saw the mystery child dart across the street. Almost by instinct she went in full pursuit. The child, all oblivious of her presence, after crossing the street, darted down an alley and, after crossing two blocks, entered one of those dark and dingy streets which so often flank the best and busiest avenues of a city. At the third door to the left, a sort of half basement entrance that one reached by descending a short stairs, the child paused and fumbled at the doorknob. Lucile was just in time to get a view of the interior as the door flew open. The next instant she sprang back into the shadows. She gripped at her wildly beating heart and steadied herself against the wall as she murmured, "It couldn't be! Surely! Surely it could not be." And yet she was convinced that her eyes had not deceived her. The person who had opened the door was none other than the woman who had treated the child so shamefully and had dragged her along the street. And now the child had come to the door of the den which this woman called home and of her own free will had entered the place and shut the door. What could be the meaning of all this. Some mysteries are long in solving. Some are apparently never solved. Some scarcely become mysteries before their solution appears. This mystery was of the latter sort. Plucking up all the courage she could command, Lucile made her way down the steps and, crowding herself through a narrow opening, succeeded in reaching a position by a window. Here she could see without being seen and could catch fragments of the conversation which went on within. The child had advanced to the center of the room. The woman and a man, worse in appearance, more degraded than the woman, stood staring at her. There was something heroic about the tense, erect bearing of the child. "Like Joan of Arc," Lucile thought. The child was speaking. The few words that Lucile caught sent thrills into her very soul. The child was telling the woman that she had had a book, which belonged to her friend, Monsieur Le Bon. This book was very old and much prized by him. She had had it with her that other night in a lunch box. The woman had taken it. She had come for it. It must be given back. As the child finished, the woman burst into a hoarse laugh. Then she launched forth in a tirade of abusive language. She did not admit having the book nor yet deny it. She was too intent upon abusing the child and the old man who had befriended her for that. At last she sprang at the child. The child darted for the door, but the man had locked and bolted it. There followed a scramble about the room which resulted in the upsetting of chairs and the knocking of kitchen utensils from the wall. At last the child, now fighting and sobbing, was roped to the high post of an ancient bedstead. Then, to Lucile's horror, she saw the man thrust a heavy iron poker through the grate of the stove in which a fire burned brightly. Her blood ran cold. Chills raced up her spine. What was the man's purpose? Certainly nothing good. Whatever these people were to the child, whatever the child might be, the thing must be stopped. The child had at least done one heroic deed; she had come back for that book, the book which at this moment rested in Lucile's own room, Frank Morrow's book. She had come for it knowing what she must face and had come not through fear but through love for her patriarchal friend, Monsieur Le Bon. Somehow she must be saved. With a courage born of despair, Lucile made her way from the position by the window toward the door. As she did so, she thought she caught a movement on the street above her. She was sure that a second later she heard the sound of lightly running footsteps. Had she been watched from above? What was to come of that? There was no time to form an answer. One hand was on the knob. With the other she beat the door. The door swung open. She stepped inside. It seemed to her that the door shut itself behind her. For a second her heart stood still as she realized that the man was behind her; that the door was bolted. CHAPTER XII THE TRIAL BY FIRE The moment Lucile heard the lock click behind her she knew that she was trapped. But her fighting blood was up. Even had the door been wide open she would not have retreated. "You release that child," she said through cold, set lips. "Yes, you tell me 'release the child,'" said the woman, with an attempt at sarcasm; "you who are so brave, who have a companion who is like an ox, who likes to beat up poor women on the street. You say, 'release the child.' You say that. And the child, she is my own stepdaughter." "I--I don't believe it," said Lucile stoutly. "It is true." "If it is true, you have no right to abuse her--you are not fit to be any child's mother." "Not fit," the woman's face became purple with rage. "I am no good, she says; not fit!" She advanced threateningly toward Lucile. "Now, now," she stormed, "we have you where we want you. Now we shall show you whether or not we can do as we please with the child that was so very kindly given to us." She made a move toward the stove, from which the handle to the heavy poker protruded. By this time the end must be red hot. "It's no use to threaten me," said Lucile calmly. "I wouldn't leave the room if I might. If I did it would be to bring an officer. I mean to see that the child is treated as a human being and not as a dog." The woman's face once more became purple. She seemed petrified, quite unable to move, from sheer rage. But the man, a sallow-complexioned person with a perpetual leer in one corner of his mouth, started for the stove. With a quick spring Lucile reached the handle of the poker first. Seizing it, she drew it, white hot, from the fire. The man sprang back in fear. The woman gripped the rounds of a heavy chair and made as if to lift it for a blow. Scarcely realizing that she was imitating her hero of fiction, she brought the glowing iron close to the white and tender flesh of her forearm. "You think you can frighten me," she smiled. "You think you can do something to me which will cause me to cease to attempt to protect that child. Perhaps you would torture me. I will prove to you that you cannot frighten me. What I have been doing is right. The world was made for people to live in who do right. If one may not always do right, then life is not worth living." The fiery weapon came closer to her arm. The woman stared at her as if fascinated. The child, who had been silently struggling at her bands, paused in open-mouthed astonishment. For once the leer on the man's lips vanished. Then, of a sudden, as she appeared to catch the meaning of it all, the child gave forth a piercing scream. The next instant there came a loud pounding at the door as a gruff voice thundered: "Here, you in there! Open up!" The woman dropped upon the ill-kept bed in a real or pretended swoon. Lucile allowed the poker to drop to her side. With trembling fingers the man unloosed the door and the next instant they were looking into the faces of a police sergeant and two other officers of the law. "What's going on here?" demanded the sergeant. Suddenly recovering from her swoon, the woman sprang to her feet. "That young lady," she pointed an accusing finger at Lucile, "is attempting to break up our home." The officer looked them over one by one. "What's the girl tied up for?" he demanded. "It's the only way we can keep her home," said the woman. "That young lady's been enticing her away; her and an old wretch of a man." "Your daughter?" "My adopted daughter." "What about it, little one?" the officer stepped over, and cutting the girl's bands, placed a hand on the child's head. "Is what she says true?" "I--I don't know," she faltered. Her knees trembled so she could scarcely stand. "I never saw the young lady until now but I--I think she is wonderful." "Is this woman your stepmother." The girl hung her head. "Do you wish to stay with her?" "Oh! Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! No! No! No! Oh, Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!" The child in her agony of fright and grief threw herself face down upon the bed. The officer, seating himself beside her, smoothed her hair with his huge right hand until she was quiet, then bit by bit got from her the story of her experiences in this great American city. Lucile listened eagerly as the little girl talked falteringly. A Belgian refugee, she had been brought to the United States during the war, and because this unprincipled pair spoke French, which she too understood, the good-hearted but misguided people who had her in charge had given her over to them without fully looking up their record. Because she was small and had an appealing face, and because she was a refugee, they had set her to begging on the street and had more than once asked her to steal. Having been brought up by conscientious parents, all this was repulsive to her. So one day she had run away. She had wandered the streets of the great, unfriendly city until, almost at the point of starvation, she had been taken home by a very old man, a Frenchman. "French," she said, "but not like these," she pointed a finger of scorn at the man and woman. "A French gentleman. A very, very wonderful man." She had lived with him and had helped him all she could. Then, one night, as she was on an errand for him, the woman, her stepmother, had found her. She had been seized and dragged along the street. But by some strange chance she did not at all understand, she had been rescued. That night she had been carrying a book. The book belonged to her aged benefactor and was much prized by him. Thinking that her foster mother had the book, she had dared return to ask for it. She proceeded to relate what had happened in that room and ended with a plea that she might be allowed to return to the cottage on Tyler street. "Are you interested in this child?" the officer asked Lucile. "I surely am." "Want to see that she gets safely home?" "I--I will." "And see here," the officer turned a stern face on the others, "if you interfere with this child in the future, we've got enough on you to put you away. You ain't fit to be no child's parents. Far as I can tell, this here old man is. This case, for the present, is settled out of court. See!" He motioned to his subordinates. They stood at attention until Lucile and the child passed out, then followed. The sergeant saw the girl and the child safely on the elevated platform, then, tipping his hat, mumbled: "Good luck and thank y' miss. I've got two of 'em myself. An' if anything ever happened to me, I'd like nothin' better'n to have you take an interest in 'em." Something rose up in Lucile's throat and choked her. She could only nod her thanks. The next instant they went rattling away, bound for the mystery cottage on Tyler street. For once Lucile felt richly repaid for all the doubt, perplexity and sleepless hours she had gone through. "It's all very strange and mysterious," she told herself, "but somehow, sometime, it will all come out right." As she sat there absorbed in her own thoughts, she suddenly became conscious of the fact that the child at her side was silently weeping. "Why!" she exclaimed, "what are you crying for? You are going back to your cottage and to your kind old man." "The book," whispered the child; "it is gone. I can never return it." A sudden impulse seized Lucile, an impulse she could scarcely resist. She wanted to take the child in her arms and say: "Dear little girl, I have the book in my room. I will bring it to you to-morrow." She did not say it. She could not. As far as she knew, the old man had no right to the book; it belonged to Frank Morrow. What she did say was, "I shouldn't worry any more about it if I were you. I am sure it will come out all right in the end." Then, before they knew it, they were off the elevated train and walking toward Tyler street and Lucile was saying to herself, "I wonder what next." Hand-in-hand the two made their way to the door of the dingy old cottage. CHAPTER XIII IN THE MYSTERY ROOM AT NIGHT Much to her surprise, just when she had expected to be trudging back to the station alone, Lucile found herself seated by a table in the mystery room. She was sipping a delicious cup of hot chocolate and talking to the mystery child and her mysterious godfather. Every now and again she paused to catch her breath. It was hard for her to realize that she was in the mystery room of the mysterious cottage on Tyler street. Yet there she certainly was. The child had invited her in. A dim, strangely tinted light cast dark shadows over everything. The strange furniture took on grotesque forms. The titles of the books along the wall gleamed out in a strange manner. For a full five minutes the child talked to the old man in French. He exclaimed now and then, but other than that took no part in the conversation. When she had finished, he held out a thin, bony hand to Lucile and said in perfect English: "Accept my thanks for what you have done to protect this poor little one, my pretty Marie. You are a brave girl and should have a reward. But, alas, I have little to give save my books and they are an inheritance, an inheritance thrice removed. They were my great-grandfather's and have descended direct to me. One is loath to part with such treasure." "There is no need for any reward," said Lucile quickly. "I did it because I was interested in the child. But," with a sudden inspiration, "if you wish to do me a favor, tell me the story of your life." The man gave her a quick look. "You are so--so old," she hastened to add, "and so venerable, so soldier-like, so like General Joffre. Your life must have been a wonderful one." "Ah, yes," the old man settled back in his chair. As if to brush a mist from before his eyes, he made a waving motion with his hand. "Ah, yes, it has been quite wonderful, that is, I may say it once was. "I was born near a little town named Gondrecourt in the province of Meuse in France. There was a small chateau, very neat and beautiful, with a garden behind it, with a bit of woods and broad acres for cattle and grain. All that was my father's. It afterwards became mine. "In one room of the chateau were many, many ancient volumes, some in French, some in English, for my father was a scholar, as also he educated me to be. "These books were the cream of many generations, some dating back before the time of Columbus." Lucile, thinking of the book of ancient Portland charts, allowed her gaze for a second to stray to the shelf where it reposed. Again the man threw her a questioning look, but once more went on with his narrative of his life in far-off France. "Of all the treasures of field, garden, woods or chateau, the ones most prized by me were those ancient books. So, year after year I guarded them well, guarded them until an old man, in possession of all that was once my father's, I used to sit of an evening looking off at the fading hills at eventide with one of those books in my lap. "Then came the war." Again his hand went up to dispel the imaginary mist. "The war took my two sons. They never came back. It took my three grandsons. We gave gladly, for was it not our beloved France that was in danger? They, too, never returned." The old man's hand trembled as he brushed away the imaginary mist. "I borrowed money to give to France. I mortgaged my land, my cattle, my chateau; only my treasure of books I gave no man a chance to take. They must be mine until I died. They of all the treasures I must keep. "One night," his voice grew husky, "one night there came a terrible explosion. The earth rocked. Stones of the castle fell all about the yard. The chateau was in ruins. It was a bomb from an airplane. "Someway the library was not touched. It alone was safe. How thankful I was that it was so. It was now all that was left. "I took my library to a small lodging in the village. Then, when the war was ended, I packed all my books in strong boxes and started for Paris." He paused. His head sank upon his breast. His lips quivered. It was as if he were enduring over again some great sorrow. "Perhaps," he said after a long time, "one is foolish to grieve over what some would say is a trifle compared to other losses. But one comes to love books. They are his very dear friends. With them he shares his great pleasures. In times of sorrow they console him. Ah, yes, how wonderful they are, these books?" His eyes turned toward the shelves. Then, suddenly, his voice changed. He hastened on. He seemed to desire to have done with it. One might have believed that there was something he was keeping back which he was afraid his lips might speak. "I came to America," he said hoarsely, "and here I am in your great city, alone save for this blessed child, and--and my books--some of my books--most of my books." Again he was silent. The room fell into such a silence that the very breathing of the old man sounded out like the exhaust of an engine. Somewhere in another room a clock ticked. It was ghostly. Shaking herself free from the spell of it, Lucile said, "I--I think I must go." "No! No!" cried the old man. "Not until you have seen some of my treasures, my books." Leading her to the shelves, he took down volume after volume. He placed them in her hands with all the care of a salesman displaying rare and fragile china. She looked at the outside of some; then made bold to open the covers and peep within. They were all beyond doubt very old and valuable. But one fact stood out in her mind as she finally bade them good night, stood out as if embossed upon her very soul: In the inside upper corner of the cover of every volume, done on expensive, age-browned paper, there was the same gargoyle, the same letter L as had been in the other mysterious volumes. "The gargoyle's secret," she whispered as she came out upon the dark, damp streets. "The gargoyle's secret. I wonder what it is!" Then she started as if in fear that the gargoyle were behind her, about to spring at her from the dark. CHAPTER XIV A STRANGE REQUEST "But, Lucile!" exclaimed Florence in an excited whisper, springing up in her bed after she had heard Lucile's story. "How did the police know that something was going wrong in that house? How did they come to be right there when you needed them most?" "That's just what I asked the sergeant," answered Lucile, "and he just shrugged his shoulders and said, 'Somebody tipped it off.'" "Which meant, I suppose, that someone reported the fact to police headquarters that something was wrong in that house." "I suppose so." "Is that all you know about it?" "Why, I--I thought I heard someone hurrying away on the sidewalk just as I was going to enter." "You don't suppose--" "Oh, I don't know what to suppose," Lucile gave a short, hysterical laugh. "It is getting to be much too complicated for me. I can't stand it much longer. Something's going to burst. I think all the time that someone is dogging my tracks. I think someone must suspect me of being in league with this old man and the child." "But if they did, why should they call the police for your protection?" "Yes, why? Why? A whole lot of whys. And who would suspect me? I would trust Frank Morrow to keep faith with me. I am sure he trusts me fully. The Portland chart book affair I was not in at all. The bindery would scarcely suspect me. There's only our own library left. You don't think--" "One scarcely knows what to think," said Florence wearily. "We sometimes forget that we are but two poor girls who are more or less dependent on the university for our support while we secure an education. Perhaps you should have confided in the library authorities in the beginning." "Perhaps. But it's too late now. I must see the thing through." "You don't believe the old Frenchman's story." "I don't know. It's hard to doubt it. He seems so sincere. There's something left out, I suppose." "Of course there is. In order to keep from starving, he was obliged to sell some of his books. Then, being heartbroken over the loss of them, he has induced the child to steal them back for him. That seems sensible enough, doesn't it? Of course it's a pity that he should have been forced to sell them, but they were, in a way, a luxury. We all are obliged to give up some luxuries. For my part, I don't see how you are going to keep him out of jail. The child will probably come clear because of her age, but there's not a chance in a million of saving him. There's got to be a show-down sometime. Why not now? The facts we have in our possession are the rightful property of others, of our library, Frank Morrow, the scientific library, of the Silver-Barnard bindery. Why not pass them on?" Florence was sitting bolt upright in bed. She pointed her finger at her roommate by way of emphasis. But, tired and perplexed as she was, Lucile never flinched. "Your logic is all right save for two things," she smiled wearily. "What two?" "The character of the old man and the character of the child. They could not do the thing you suggest. No, not for far greater reward. Not in a thousand years." She beat the bed with her hands. "There must be some other explanation. There must. There must!" For a moment there was silence in the room. Lucile removed her street garments, put on her dream robe, then crept into bed. "Oh," she sighed, "I forgot to tell you what that extraordinary child asked me to do." "What?" "She said she had an errand to do for the old Frenchman; that it would take her a long way from home and she was afraid to go alone. She asked me if I would go with her." "What did you tell her?" "I--I told her that both my roommate and I would go." "You did!" "Why, yes." "Well," said Florence, after a moment's thought, "I'll go, but if it's another frightful robbery, if she's going to break in somewhere and carry away some book worth thousands of dollars, I'm not in on it. I--I'll drag her to the nearest police station and our fine little mystery will end right there." "Oh, I don't think it can be anything like that," said Lucile sleepily. "Anyway, we can only wait and see." With that she turned her right cheek over on the pillow and was instantly fast asleep. CHAPTER XV A STRANGE JOURNEY The hours of the following day dragged as if on leaden wings. With nerves worn to single strands, Lucile was now literally living on excitement. The fact that she was to go with the mystery child on a night's trip which held promise of excitement and possible adventure in it, went far toward keeping her eyes open and on their task, but for all this, the hours dragged. At the library she was startled to note the worn and haggard look on Harry Brock's face. She wanted to ask him the cause of it and to offer sympathy, but he appeared to actually avoid her. Whenever she found some excuse to move in his direction, he at once found one for moving away to another corner of the library. "Whatever can be the matter with him?" she asked herself. "I wonder if I could have offended him in any way. I should hate to lose his friendship." Night came at last and with it the elevated station and Tyler street. With her usual promptness, the child led them to a surface car. They rode across the city. From the car they hurried to an inter-urban depot of a steam line. "So it's to be out of the city," Florence whispered to Lucile. "I hadn't counted on that. It may be more than we bargained for." "I hope not," shivered Lucile. "I've been all warmed up over this trip the whole day through and now when we are actually on the way I feel cold as a clam and sort of creepy all over. Do--do you suppose it will be anything very dreadful?" "Why, no!" laughed Florence. "Far as feelings go mine have been just the opposite to yours. I didn't want to go and felt that way all day, but now it would take all the conductors in the service to put me off the train." With all the seriousness of a grown-up, the child purchased tickets for them all, and now gave them to the conductor without so much as suggesting their destination to the girls. "I don't know where I'm going but I'm on my way," whispered Florence with a smile. "Seems strange, doesn't it?" said Lucile. "Sh," warned Florence. The child had turned a smiling face toward them. "I think it's awfully good of you to come," she beamed. "It's a long way and I'm afraid we'll be late getting home, but you won't have to do anything, not really, just go along with me. It's a dreadfully lonesome place. There's a long road you have to go over and the road crosses a river and there is woods on both sides of the river. Woods are awful sort of spooky at night, don't you think so?" Florence smiled and nodded. Lucile shivered. "I don't mind the city," the child went on, "not any of it. There are always people everywhere and things can't be spooky there, but right out on the roads and in the woods and on beaches where the water goes wash-wash-wash at night, I don't like that, do you?" "Sometimes I do," said Florence. "I think I'm going to like it a lot to-night." "Oh, are you?" exclaimed the child. "Then I'm glad, because it was awfully nice of you to come." "A long road, woods and a river," Florence repeated in Lucile's ear. "Wherever can we be going? I supposed we would get off at one of the near-in suburbs." "Evidently," said Lucile, forcing a smile, "we are in for a night of it. I'm going to catch forty winks. Call me when we get to the road that crosses the river in the woods." She bent her head down upon one hand and was soon fast asleep. She was awakened by a shake from Florence. "We're here. Come on, get off." What they saw on alighting was not reassuring. A small red depot, a narrow, irregular platform, a square of light through which they saw a young man with a green shade over his eyes bending before a table filled with telegraph instruments; this was all they saw. Beyond these, like the entrance to some huge, magical cave, the darkness loomed at them. The child appeared to know the way, even in the dark, for she pulled at Florence's sleeve as she whispered: "This way please. Keep close to me." There was not the least danger of the girls' failing to keep close, for, once they had passed beyond sight of that friendly square of light and the green-shaded figure, they were hopelessly lost. True, the darkness shaded off a trifle as their eyes became more accustomed to it; they could tell that they were going down a badly kept, sandy road; they could see the dim outline of trees on either side; but that was all. The trees seemed a wall which shut them in on either side. "Trees _are_ spooky at night," Lucile whispered as she gripped her companion's arm a little more tightly. "Where are we?" Florence whispered. "I couldn't guess." "Pretty far out. I counted five stops after the lights of the city disappeared." "Listen." "What is it?" "Water rushing along somewhere." "Might be the river. She said there was one." "Rivers rush like that in the mountains but not here. Must be the lake shore." "Hist--" The child was whispering back at them. "We are coming to the bridge. It's a very long bridge, and spooky. I think we better tiptoe across it, but we mustn't run. The gallopin' goblins'll come after us if we do; besides, there's an old rusty sign on the bridge that says, 'No trotting across the bridge.'" The next moment they felt a plank surface beneath their feet and knew they were on the bridge. It must have been a very ancient bridge. This road had never been remodelled to fit the need of automobiles. The planks rattled and creaked in an ominous manner in spite of their tiptoeing. "I wonder how much more there is of it," Florence groaned in a whisper when they had gone on tiptoes for what seemed an endless space of time. "If my toes don't break, I'm sure my shoes will." As for Lucile, she was thinking her own thoughts. She was telling herself that if it were not for the fact that this night's performance gave promise of being a link in the chain of circumstances which were to be used in dragging the gargoyle's secret from its lair, she would demand that the child turn about and lead them straight back to the city. Since she had faith that somehow the mystery was to be solved and her many worries and perplexities brought to an end, she tiptoed doggedly on. And it was well that she did, for the events of this one night were destined to bring about strange and astounding revelations. She was not to see the light of day again before the gargoyle's secret would be fully revealed, but had she known the series of thrilling events which would lead up to that triumphant hour, she would have shrunk back and whispered, "No, no, I can't go all that way." Often and often we find this true in life; we face seemingly unbearable situations--something is to happen to us, we are to go somewhere, be something different, do some seemingly undoable thing and we say, "We cannot endure it," yet we pass through it as through a fog to come out smiling on the other side. We are better, happier and stronger for the experience. It was to be so with Lucile. The bridge was crossed at last. More dark and silent woods came to flank their path. Then out of the distance there loomed great bulks of darker masses. "Mountains, I'd say they were," whispered Lucile, "if it weren't for the fact that I know there are none within five hundred miles." For a time they trudged along in silence. Then suddenly Florence whispered: "Oh, I know! Dunes! Sand dunes! Now I know where we are. We are near the lake shore. I was out here somewhere for a week last summer. By day it's wonderful; regular mountains of sand that has been washed up and blown up from the bed of the lake. Some of them are hundreds of feet above the level of the lake. There are trees growing on them and everything." "But what are we doing out here?" "I can't guess. There is a wonderful beach everywhere and cottages here and there." "But it's too late for summer cottages. They must all be closed." "Yes, of course they must." Again they trudged on in silence. Now they left the road to strike away across the soft, yielding surface of the sand. They sank in to their ankles. Some of the sand got into their shoes and hurt their feet, but still they trudged on. The rush of waters on the shore grew louder. "I love it," Florence whispered. "I like sleeping where I can hear the rush of water. I've slept beside the Arctic Ocean, the Behring Sea and the Pacific. I've slept by the shore of this old lake. Once in the Rocky Mountains I climbed to the timber-line and there slept for five nights in a tent where all night long you could hear the rush of icy water over rocks which were more like a stony stairway than the bed of a stream. It was grand. "When I am sleeping where I can hear the rush of water I sometimes half awaken at night and imagine I am once more on the shore of the Arctic or in a tent at the timber-line of the Rockies." While she was whispering this they felt the sand suddenly harden beneath their feet and knew that they had reached the beach. "You know," the child whispered suddenly and mysteriously back at them, "I don't like beaches at night. I lived by one when I was a very little girl. There was a very, very old woman lived there too. She told me many terrible stories of the sea. And do you know, once she told me something that has made me afraid to be by the shore at night. It makes it spooky." She suddenly seized Lucile's arm with a grip that hurt while she whispered, "That's why I wanted you to come. "She told me," she went on, "that old woman told me," Lucile fancied she could see the child's frightened eyes gleaming out of the night, "about the men who were lost at sea; brave seamen who go on ships and brave soldiers too. Their bodies get washed all about on the bottom of the water; the fishes eat them and by and by they are all gone. But their souls can't be eaten. No sir, no one can eat them. The old woman told me that." The child paused. Her breath was coming quick. Her grip tightened on Lucile's arm as she whispered: "And sometimes I'm afraid one of their souls will get washed right up on the sand at night. That's what frightens me so. What do you think it would look like? What do you? Would it be all yellow and fiery like a glowworm or would it be just white, like a sheet?" "Florence," whispered Lucile, with a shiver, "tell her to be quiet. She'll drive me mad." But there was no need. There is much courage to be gained by telling our secret fears to others. The child had apparently relieved her soul of a great burden, for she tramped on once more in silence. Several moments had passed when she suddenly paused before some dark object which stood out above the sand. "A boat," whispered Lucile. "If you'll just help me," said the child, "we can push it into the water." "What for?" Florence asked. "Why, to go in, of course. It's the only way." For a moment the two girls stood there undecided. Then Florence whispered: "Oh, come on. It's not rough. Might as well see it through." CHAPTER XVI NIGHT VISITORS A moment later they were listening to the creak of rusty oarlocks and the almost inaudible dip-dip of the oars as the child herself sent the boat out from the beach to bring it half about and skirt the shore. The boat was some sixteen feet long. A clinker-built craft, it was light and buoyant, but for all that, with three persons aboard, the rowing of it was a tax on the strength of the child's slender arms. To add to her troubles, the water began to rubber up a bit. Small waves came slap-slapping the boat's side. Once a bit of spray broke in Florence's face. "Here," she whispered, "it's too heavy for you. Let me have the oars, then you tell me which way to go." "Straight ahead, only not too close in. There's a wall." "A wall?" Lucile thought to herself. "Sounds like a prison. There's a parole camp out here somewhere. It can't be!" she shuddered. "No, of course not. What would that old man and child have to do with prisons?" Then, suddenly an ugly thought forced its way into her mind. Perhaps after all these two were members of a gang of robbers. Perhaps a member of the gang had been in prison and was at this moment in the parole camp. What if this turned out to be a jail-breaking expedition? "No, no!" she whispered as she shook herself to free her mind of the thought. "There's the wall," whispered Florence, as a gray bulk loomed up to the right of them. They passed it in silence. To Lucile they seemed like marines running a blockade in time of war. But Florence was busy with other thoughts. That wall seemed vaguely familiar to her. It was as if she had seen it in a dream, yet could not recall the details of the dream. A storm was brewing off in the west. Now and then a distant flash of lightning lighted up the surrounding waters. Of a sudden one of these, more brilliant than the rest, lighted up the shore, which, at a word from the child, they were now nearing. What Florence saw was a small, artificially dredged buoy with a dock and large boathouse at the back. Instantly what had been a dream became a reality. She had seen that wall and the little buoy and boathouse as well. Only the summer before she had spent two nights and a day with a party on the dunes. They had hired a motor boat and had skirted the shore. This place had been pointed out to her and described as the most elaborate and beautiful summer cottage on the shore. "Why," she whispered, with a sigh of relief, "this is the summer cottage of your friend, R. Stanley Ramsey, Jr., the young man you saw at Frank Morrow's place and whom we saw later at the mystery cottage. This isn't any brigandish thieving expedition. It is merely a business trip. Probably the old man has sold him one of his books." Lucile's first reaction to this news was intense relief. This was not a jail-breaking expedition; in fact, was not to be in any way an adventure. But the next instant doubt came. "What would that young man be doing in a summer cottage at this time of year?" she demanded. "All the cottages must have been closed for nearly a month. Society flies back to the city in September. Besides, if it's plain business, why all this slipping in at the lake front instead of passing through the gate?" Florence was silent at that. She had no answer. "Does seem strange," she mused. "There's a very high fence all about the place, but of course there must be a gate." The next instant the boat grated on the sandy beach and they were all climbing out. Lucile shivered as she caught sight of a large, low, rambling building which lay well up from the shore. "What next?" she whispered to herself. The storm was still rumbling in the west. The sky to the east was clear. Out from the black waters of the lake the moon was rolling. Its light suddenly brightened up the shore. The girls stared about them. Up from the beach a little way was an affair which resembled an Indian tepee. It was built of boards and covered with birch bark. Its white sides glimmered in the moonlight. Through the shadows of trees and shrubbery they made out a rustic pavilion and beyond that the cottage which was built in rustic fashion as befits a summer residence of a millionaire, although little short of a mansion. "Wouldn't you like to see the inside of it?" breathed Florence. "I've always wondered what such a place was like." "Yes," whispered Lucile, "but I'd prefer daylight." They had been following the child. She had led them as far as a rustic arbor. Built of cedar poles with the bark left on, this presented itself as an inviting place to rest. "You stay here," the child whispered. "I'll come back." She vanished into the shadows. "Well!" whispered Lucile. "What do you make of it?" Florence asked. "Nothing yet." "Is someone here to meet her or is she entering the place to get something?" "Don't know. I--" Lucile stopped short. "Did you see that?" she whispered tensely as she gripped her companion's arm. "What?" "There was a flash of light in the right wing of the building, like the flicker of a match." "She can't have reached there yet." "No." "Do you think we should warn her? I can't help thinking she's going to break into the place." "If she is, she should be caught. If we think she is, perhaps we should notify the police." "The police? In such a place? You forget that we are many miles from the city and two or three miles from even a railroad station. Guess we'll have to see it through." "Let's do it then?" The two girls rose and began making their way stealthily in the direction the child had taken. Now and again they paused to listen. Once they heard a sound like the creaking of a door. Lucile caught a second flash of light. They paused behind two pine trees not ten feet from the side entrance. The wind rustled in the pine trees. The water broke ceaselessly on the shore. Otherwise all was silence. "Creepy," whispered Lucile. "Ghostly," Florence shivered. "I believe that door's ajar." "It is." "Let's creep up close." The next moment found them flattened against the wall beside the door. This door stood half open. Suddenly they caught a flash of light. Leaning far over to peer within, they saw the child bent over before a huge bookcase. The room, half illumined by her flashlight, was a large lounging room. The trimmings were rustic and massive. Beamed ceiling and heavy beams along the walls were flanked by a huge fireplace at the back. The furniture was in keeping, massive mission oak with leather cushions on chairs. "What a wonderful place!" Florence whispered. "What wouldn't one give to have it for a study?" The child had taken three books from the shelves. All these she replaced. She was examining the fourth when Lucile whispered, "That's the one she has come for." "Why?" "The light fell full upon the inside of the cover. I saw the gargoyle there." The prediction proved a true one, for, after carefully closing the case, the child switched off the light. Scarcely realizing what they were doing, the girls lingered by the door. Then suddenly Lucile realized their position. "She'll be here in a second," she whispered. They turned, but not quickly enough, for of a sudden a glare of light from a powerful electric flashlight blinded them while a masculine voice with a distinctly youthful ring to it demanded: "Who's there?" To their consternation, the girls felt the child bump into them as she backed away and there they all stood framed in a circle of light. The glaring light with darkness behind it made it impossible for them to see the new arrival but Lucile knew instantly from the voice that it was the millionaire's son. For a full moment no one spoke. The tick-tock of a prodigious clock in one corner of the room sounded out like the ringing of a curfew. "Oh! I see," came at last in youthful tones from the corner; "just some girls. And pretty ones, too, I'll be bound. Came to borrow a book, did you? Who let you in, I wonder. But never mind. Suppose you're here for a week-end at one of the cottages and needed some reading matter. Rather unconventional way of getting it, but it's all right. Just drop it in the mail box at the gate when you're done with it." The girls suddenly became conscious of the fact that the child was doing her best to push them out of the door. Yielding to her backward shoves, they sank away into the shadows and, scarcely believing their senses, found themselves apparently quite free to go their way. "That," breathed Florence, "was awful decent of him." "Decent?" Lucile exploded. "It--it was grand. Look here," she turned almost savagely upon the child, "you didn't intend to give that book back but you're going to do it. You're going to put it in that mail box to-night." "Oh, no, I'm not," the child said cheerfully. "You--you're not?" Lucile stammered. "What right have you to keep it?" "What right has he? It does not belong to him. It belongs to Monsieur Le Bon." "Why, that's nonsense! That--" Lucile broke off suddenly. "Look!" she exclaimed. "The boat's gone!" It was all too true. They had reached the beach where they had left the boat. It had vanished. "So we are prisoners after all," Florence whispered. "And, and he was just making fun of us. He knew we couldn't get away," breathed Lucile, sinking hopelessly down upon the sand. CHAPTER XVII A BATTLE IN THE NIGHT "Oh, brace up!" exclaimed Florence, a note of impatience creeping into her voice. "We'll get out of this place some way. Perhaps the boat wasn't taken. Perhaps it has--" She stopped to stare away across the water. "I believe it's out there away down the beach. Look, Lucile. Look sharp." The moon had gone behind a small cloud. As it came out they could see clearly the dark bulk of the boat dancing on the water, which was by now roughening up before the rising storm. "It's out there," exclaimed Florence. "We failed to pull it ashore far enough. There is a side sweep to the waves that carried it out. We must get it." "Yes, oh, yes, we must!" the child exclaimed. "It wasn't mine; it was borrowed." "You borrow a lot of things," exclaimed Florence. "Oh, no, indeed. Not many, not hardly any at all." "But, Florence, how can we get it?" protested Lucile. "I'm a strong swimmer. I swam a mile once. The boat's out only a few hundred yards. It will be easy." "Not with your clothes on." Florence did not answer. She threw a glance toward the millionaire's cottage. All was dark there. "Here!" Lucile felt a garment thrust into her hands, then another and another. "Florence, you mustn't." "It's the only way." A moment later Florence's white body gleamed in the moonlight as she raced away down the beach to gain the point nearest the boat. To the listening ears of Lucile and the child there came the sound of a splash, then the slow plash, plash, plash of a swimmer's strokes. Florence was away and swimming strong. But the wind from off a point had caught the boat and was carrying it out from shore, driving it on faster than she knew. Confident of her ability to reach the goal in a mere breath of time, she struck out at once with the splendid swing of the Australian crawl. Trained to the pink of perfection, her every muscle in condition, she laughed at the wavelets that lifted her up only to drop her down again and now and again to dash a saucy handful of spray in her face. She laughed and even hummed a snatch of an old sea song. She was as much at home in the water as in her room at the university. But now, as she got farther from the shore, the waves grew in size and force. They impeded her progress. The shore was protected by a rocky point farther up the beach. She was rapidly leaving that protection. Throwing herself high out of the water, she looked for the boat. A little cry of consternation escaped her lips. She had expected to find it close at hand. It seemed as far away as when she had first seen it. "It's the wind off the point," she breathed. "It's taking it out to sea. It--it's going to be a battle, a real scrap." Once more she struck out with the powerful stroke which carries one far but draws heavily upon his emergency fund of energy. For three full moments she battled the waves; then, all but breathless, she slipped over on her back to do the dead man's float. "Just for a few seconds. Got to save my strength, but I can't waste time." Now for the first time she realized that there was a possibility that she would lose this fight. The realization of what it meant if she did lose, swept over her and left her cold and numb. To go back was impossible; the wind and waves were too strong for that. To fail to reach the boat meant death. Turning back again into swimming position, she struck out once more. But this time it was not the crawl. That cost too much. With an easy, hand-over-hand swing which taxed the reserve forces little more than floating, she set her teeth hard, resolved slowly but surely to win her way to the boat and to safety. Moments passed. Long, agonizing moments. Lucile on the shore, by the gleam of a flare of lightning, caught now and then a glimpse of the swimmer. Little by little she became conscious of the real situation. When it dawned upon her that Florence was in real peril, she thought of rushing to the cottage and calling to her assistance any who might be there. Then she looked at the bundle of clothing in her arms and flushed. "She'd never forgive me," she whispered. Florence, still battling, felt the spray break over her, but still kept on the even swing. Now and again, high on the crest of a wave, she saw the boat. She was cheered by the fact that each time it appeared to loom a little larger. "Gaining," she whispered. "Fifty yards to go!" Again moments passed and again she whispered, "Gaining. Thirty yards." A third time she whispered, "Twenty yards." After that it was a quiet, muscle-straining, heart-breaking, silent battle, which caused her very senses to reel. Indeed at times she appeared conscious of only one thing, the mechanical swing of her arms, the kick, kick of her feet. They seemed but mechanical attachments run by some electrical power. When at last the boat loomed black and large on the crest of a wave just above her she had barely enough brain energy left to order her arms into a new motion. Striking upward with her right hand, she gripped the craft's side. The next instant, with a superhuman effort, without overturning it she threw herself into the boat, there to fall panting across a seat. "Wha--what a battle!" she gasped. "But I won! I won!" For two minutes she lay there motionless. Then, drawing herself stiffly up to a sitting position, she adjusted the oars to their oarlocks and, bending forward, threw all her magnificent strength into the business of battling the waves and bringing the boat safely ashore. There are few crafts more capable of riding a stormy sea than is a clinker-built rowboat. Light as a cork, it rides the waves like a seagull. Florence was not long in finding this out. Her trip ashore was one of joyous triumph. She had fought a hard physical battle and won. This was her hour of triumph. Her lips thrilled a "Hi-le-hi-le-hi-lo" which was heard with delight by her friends on land. Her bare arms worked like twin levers to a powerful engine, as she brought the boat around and shot it toward shore. A moment for rejoicing, two for dressing, then they all three tumbled into the boat to make the tossing trip round the wall to shore on the other side. For the moment the book tightly pressed under the child's arm was forgotten. Florence talked of swimming and rowing. She talked of plans for a possible summer's outing which included days upon the water and weeks within the forest primeval. As they left the boat on the beach, they could see that the storm was passing to the north of them. It had, however, hidden the moon. The path through the forest and across the river was engulfed in darkness. Once more the child prattled of haunts, spooks, and goblins, but for once Lucile's nerves were not disturbed. Her mind had gone back to the old problems, the mystery of the gargoyle and all the knotty questions which had come to be associated with it. This night a new mystery had thrust its head up out of the dark and an old theory had been exploded. She had thought that the young millionaire's son might be in league with the old man and the child in carrying away and disposing of old and valuable books, but here was the child coming out to this all but deserted cottage at night to take a book from the young man's library. "He hasn't a thing in the world to do with it," she told herself. "He--" She paused in her perplexing problem to grip her companion's arm and whisper, "What was that?" They were nearing the plank bridge. She felt certain that she heard a footstep upon it. But now as she listened she heard nothing but the onrush of distant waters. "Just your nerves," answered Florence. "It was not. I was not thinking of the child's foolish chatter. I was thinking of our problem, of the gargoyle's secret. Someone is crossing the bridge." Even as she spoke, as if in proof of her declaration, there came a faint pat-pat-pat, as of someone moving on the bridge on tiptoe. "Someone is shadowing us," Lucile whispered. "Looks that way." "Who is it?" "Someone from the cottage perhaps. Watching to see what the child does with the book. She must take it back." "Yes, she must." "It might be," and here even stout-hearted Florence shuddered, "it might be that someone had shadowed us all the way from the city." "The one who followed me the night I got caught in that wretched woman's house, and other times?" "Yes." "But he couldn't have gone all the way, not up to the cottage. He couldn't get through the fence and there was no other boat." "Well, anyway, whoever it is, we must go on. Won't do any good standing here shivering." Once more they pressed into the dark and once more Lucile resumed her attempt to disentangle the many problems which lay before her. CHAPTER XVIII FRANK MORROW JOINS IN THE HUNT That she had reached the limit of her resources, her power to reason and to endure, Lucile knew right well. To go on as she had been day after day, each day adding some new responsibility to her already overburdened shoulders, was to invite disaster. It was not fair to others. The set of Shakespeare, the volume of Portland charts, the hand-bound volume from the bindery and this book just taken from the summer home of the millionaire, were all for the moment in the hands of the old man and the child. How long would they remain there? No one could tell save the old man and perhaps the child. That she had had no part whatever in the taking of any of them, unless her accompanying of the child on this trip might be called taking a part, she knew quite well. Yet one is responsible for what one knows. "I should have told what I knew about the set of Shakespeare in the beginning," she chided herself. "Then there would have been no other problems. All the other books would be at this moment in their proper places and the old man and child would be--" She could not say the words, "in jail." It was too terrible to contemplate! That man and that child in jail! And, yet, she suddenly remembered the child's declaration that she would not return the book to the summer cottage. She had said the book belonged to the old man. Perhaps, after all, it did. She had seen the millionaire's son in the mystery room talking to the old man. Perhaps, after all, he had borrowed the book and the child had been sent for it. There was some consolation in that thought. "But that does not solve any of the other problems," she told herself, "and, besides, if she has a right to the book, why all this creeping up to the cottage by night by way of the water. And why did he assume that she was borrowing it?" And so, after all her speculation, she found herself just where she had left off; the tangle was no less a tangle than before. "Question is," she whispered to herself, "am I going to go to the police or to the university authorities with the story and have these mysterious people arrested, or am I not?" They reached the station just as the last train was pulling in. Florence and the child had climbed aboard and Lucile had her hand on the rail when she saw a skulking figure emerge from the shadows of the station. The person, whoever he might be, darted down the track to climb upon the back platform just as the train pulled out. "That," Lucile told herself, "is the person who crossed the bridge ahead of us. He is spying on us. I wonder who he is and what he knows." A cold chill swept over her as if a winter blast had passed down the car. When Florence had been told of what Lucile had seen, she suggested that they go back and see who the man was. "What's the use?" said Lucile. "We can't prove that he's following us. It would only get us into another mess and goodness knows we're in enough now." So, with the mystery child curled up fast asleep in a seat before them, hugging the newly acquired book as though it were a doll, they rattled back toward the city. In spite of the many problems perplexing her, Lucile soon fell asleep. Florence remained to keep vigil over her companion, the child and the supposedly valuable book. They saw nothing more of the mysterious person who had apparently been following them. Arrived at the city, they were confronted with the problem of the immediate possession of the latest of the strangely acquired volumes. Should the child be allowed to carry it to the mysterious cottage or should they insist on taking it to their room for safe keeping? They talked the matter over in whispers just before arriving at their station. "If you attempt to make her give it up," Florence whispered, "she'll make a scene. She's just that sort of a little minx." "I suppose so," said Lucile wearily. "Might as well let her keep it. It's as safe as any of the books are at that cottage, and, really, it's not as much our business as you keep thinking it is. We didn't take the book. True, we went along with her, but she would have gone anyway. We're not the guardians of all the musty old books in Christendom. Let's forget at least this one and let that rich young man get it back as best he can. He took the chance in allowing her to take it away." Lucile did not entirely agree to all this but was too tired to resist her companion's logic, so the book went away under the child's arm. After a very few hours of restless sleep, Lucile awoke with one resolve firmly implanted in her mind: She would take Frank Morrow's book back to him and place it in his hand, then she would tell him the part of the story that he did not already know. After that she would attempt to follow his advice in the matter. With the thin volume of "The Compleat Angler" in the pocket of her coat, she made her way at an early hour to his shop. He had barely opened up for the day. No customers were yet about. Having done his nine holes of golf before coming down and having done them exceedingly well, he was feeling in a particularly good humor. "Well, my young friend," he smiled, "what is it I may do for you this morning? Why! Why!" he exclaimed, turning her suddenly about to the light, "you've been losing sleep about something. Tut! Tut! That will never do." She smiled in spite of herself. Here was a young-old man who was truly a dear. "Why I came," she smiled again, as she drew the valuable book from her pocket, "to return your book and to tell you just how I came to have it." "That sounds interesting." Frank Morrow, rubbing his hands together as one does who is anticipating a good yarn, then led her to a chair. Fifteen minutes later, as the story was finished, he leaned back in his chair and gave forth a merry chuckle as he gurgled, "Fine! Oh, fine! That's the best little mystery story I've heard in a long time. It's costing me two hundred dollars, but I don't begrudge it, not a penny of it. The yarn's really worth it. Besides, I shall make a cool hundred on the book still, which isn't so bad." "Two hundred dollars!" exclaimed Lucile in great perplexity. "Yes, the reward for the return of the book. Now that the mystery is closed and the book returned, I shall pay it to you, of course." "Oh, the reward," she said slowly. "Yes, of course. But, really, the mystery is not ended--it has only just begun." "As you like it," the shopkeeper smiled back. "As matters go, I should call the matter closed. I have a book stolen. You recover it and are able to tell me that the persons who stole it are an old man, too feeble to work, and an innocent child. You are able to put your finger on them and to say, 'These are the persons.' I can have them arrested if I choose. I too am an old man; not so old as your Frenchman, yet old enough to know something of what he must feel, with the pinch of age and poverty dragging at the tail of his coat. I happen to love all little children and to feel their suffering quite as much as they do when they must suffer. I do not choose to have those two people arrested. That ends the affair, does it not? You have your reward; I my book; they go free, not because justice says they should but because a soft heart of an old man says they must." He smiled and brushed his eyes with the back of his hands. Having nothing to say, Lucile sat there in silence. Presently Frank Morrow began, "You think this is unusual because you do not know how common it is. You have never run a bookstore. You would perhaps be a little surprised to have me tell you that almost every day of the year some book, more or less valuable, is stolen, either from a library or from a bookshop. It is done, I suppose, because it seems so very easy. Here is a little volume worth, we will say, ten dollars. It will slip easily into your pocket. When the shopkeeper is not looking, it does slip in. Then again, when he is not paying any particular attention to you, you slip out upon the street. You drink in a few breaths of fresh air, cast a glance to right and left of you, then walk away. You think the matter is closed. In reality it has just begun. "In the first place, you probably did not take the book so you might have it for your library. Collectors of rare books are seldom thieves. They are often cranks, but honest cranks. More books are stolen by students than by any other class of people. They have a better knowledge of the value of books than the average run of folks, and they more often need the money to be obtained from the sale of such books. "Nothing seems easier than to take a book from one store, to carry it to another store six or eight miles away and sell it, then to wash your hands of the whole matter. Nothing in reality is harder. All the bookstore keepers of every large city are bound together in a loosely organized society for mutual protection. The workings of their 'underground railways' are swifter and more certain than the United States Secret Service. The instant I discover that one of my books has been carried off, I sit down and put the name of it on a multigraph. This prints the name on enough post cards to go to all the secondhand bookshops in the city. When the shopkeepers get these cards, they read the name and know the book has been stolen. If they have already bought it, they start a search for the person who sold it to them. They generally locate him. If the book has not yet been disposed of, every shopkeeper is constantly on the lookout for it until it turns up. So," he smiled, "you see how easy it is to steal books. "And yet they will steal them," he went on. "Why," he smiled reminiscently, "not so long ago I had the same book stolen twice within the week." "Did you find out who it was?" "In both cases, at once." "Different people." "Entirely different; never met, as far as I know. The first one was an out and out rascal; he wanted the money for needless luxuries. We treated him rough. Very rough! The other was a sick student who, we found, had used the money to pay carfare to his home. I did not even trouble to find out where his home was; just paid the ten dollars to the man who had purchased the book from him and charged it off on my books. That," he stroked his chin thoughtfully, "that doesn't seem like common sense--or justice, either, yet it is the way men do; anyway it's the way I do." Again there was silence. "But," Lucile hesitated, "this case is different. The mystery still exists. Why does Monsieur Le Bon want the books? He has not sold a single volume. Something must be done about the books from the university, the Scientific Library and the Bindery." "That's true," said Frank Morrow thoughtfully. "There are angles to the case that are interesting, very interesting. Mind if I smoke?" Lucile shook her head. "Thanks." He filled and lighted his pipe. "Mind going over the whole story again?" "No, not a bit." She began at the beginning and told her story. This time he interrupted her often and it seemed that, as he asked question after question, his interest grew as the story progressed. "Now I'll tell you what to do," he held up a finger for emphasis as she concluded. He leaned far forward and there was a light of adventure in his eye. "I'll tell you what you do. Here's a hundred dollars." He drew a roll of bills from his pocket. "You take this money and buy yourself a ticket to New York. You can spare the week-end at least. When you get to New York, go to Burtnoe's Book Store and ask for Roderick Vining. He sold me that copy of 'The Compleat Angler.' I sent out a bid for such a book when I had a customer for it and he was one of two who responded. His book was the best of the two, so I took it. He is in charge of fine binding in the biggest book store in his city. They deal in new books, not secondhand ones, but he dabbles in rare volumes on the side. Tell him that I want to know where he got the book; take the book along, to show you are the real goods. When he tells you where, then find that person if you can and ask him the same question. Keep going until you discover something. You may have to hunt up a half dozen former owners but sooner or later you will come to an end, to the place where that book crossed the sea. And unless I miss my guess, that's mighty important. "I am sorry to have to send you--wish I could go myself," he said after a moment's silence. "It will be an interesting hunt and may even be a trifle dangerous, though I think not." "But this money, this hundred dollars?" Lucile hesitated, fingering the bills. "Oh, that?" he smiled. "That's the last of my profit on the little book. We'll call that devoted to the cause of science or lost books or whatever you like. "But," he called after her, as she left the shop, "be sure to keep your fingers tight closed around the little book." This, Lucile was destined to discover, was not so easily done. CHAPTER XIX LUCILE SOLVES NO MYSTERY Buried deep beneath the blankets of lower 9, car 20, bound for New York, Lucile for a time that night allowed her thoughts to swing along with the roll of the Century Limited. She found herself puzzled at the unexpected turn of events. She had never visited New York and she welcomed the opportunity. There was more to be learned by such a visit, brief though it was bound to be, than in a whole month of poring over books. But why was she going? What did Frank Morrow hope to prove by any discoveries she might make regarding the former ownership of the book she carried in her pocket? She had never doubted but that the aged Frenchman when badly in need of funds had sold the book to some American. That he should have repented of the transaction and had wished the book back in his library, seemed natural enough. Lacking funds to purchase it back, he had found another way. That the ends justified the means Lucile very much doubted, yet there was something to be said for this old man because of his extreme age. It might be that he had reached the period of his second childhood and all things appeared to belong to him. "But here," she told herself, rising to a sitting posture and trying to stare out into the fleeing darkness, "here we suddenly discover that the book came from New York. What is one to make of that? Very simple, in a way, I suppose. This aged Frenchman enters America by way of New York. He needs funds to pay his passage and the freight on his books to Chicago, so he sells one or two books to procure the money. Yet I doubt if that would be Frank Morrow's solution of the problem. Surely he would not sacrifice a hundred dollars to send me to New York merely to find out who the man was to whom the old Frenchman had sold the book. He must think there is more to it than that--and perhaps there is. Ho, well," she sighed, as she settled back on her pillow, "let that come when it comes. I am going to see New York--N-e-w Y-o-r-k--" she spelled it out; "and that is a grand and glorious privilege." The next moment the swing of the Century Limited as it click-clicked over the rails and the onward rush of scenery meant nothing to her. She was fast asleep. Morning found her much refreshed. After a half hour in the washroom and another in the diner, over coffee and toast, she felt equal to the facing of any events which might chance to cross her path that day. There are days in all our lives that are but blanks. They pass and we forget them forever. There are other days that are so pressed full and running over with vivid experience that every hour, as we look back upon it, seems a "crowded hour." Such days we never forget, and this was destined to be such a day in the life of Lucile. Precisely at nine o'clock she was at the door of Burtnoe's Book Store. To save time she had taken a taxi. The clerk who unfastened the door looked at her curiously. When she asked for Roderick Vining, she was directed by a nod to the back corner of the room. She made her way into a square alcove where an electric light shining brightly from the ceiling brought out a gleam of real gold from the backs of thousands of books done in fine bindings. Bending over a desk telephone was the form of a tall, slender-shouldered man. "Are--are you Roderick Vining?" she faltered, at the same time drawing "The Compleat Angler" half out of her pocket. His only answer was to hold up one long, tapering finger as a signal for silence. Someone was speaking at the other end of the wire. With burning cheeks and a whispered apology, the girl sank back into the shadows. Her courage faltered. This was her introduction to New York; she had made a faux pas as her first move; and this man, Roderick Vining, was no ordinary person, she could see that. There was time to study him now. His face was long, his features thin, but his forehead was high. He impressed her, seated though he was, as one who was habitually in a hurry. Pressing matters were, without doubt, constantly upon his mind. Now he was speaking. She could not avoid hearing what he was saying without leaving the alcove, and he had not requested her to do that. "Why, yes, Mrs. Nelson," he was saying, "we can get the set for you. Of course you understand that is a very special, de luxe edition; only three hundred sets struck off, then the plates destroyed. The cost would be considerable." Again he pressed the receiver to his ear. "Why, I should say, three thousand dollars; not less, certainly. All right, madam, I will order the set at once. Your address? Yes, certainly, I have it. Thank you. Good-bye." He placed the receiver on its hook with as little noise as if it had been padded, then turned to Lucile. "Pardon me; you wanted to see me? Sorry to keep you waiting." "Frank Morrow sent me here to ask you where you purchased this book." She held the thin volume out for his inspection. He did not appear to look at it at all. Instead, he looked her squarely in the eye. "Frank Morrow sent you all the way from Chicago that you might ask me that question? How extraordinary! Why did he not wire me? He knows I would tell him." A slight frown appeared on his forehead. "I--I am--" she was about to tell him that she was to ask the next person where he got it, but thinking better of it said instead, "That is only part of my mission to New York. Won't you please look at the book and answer my question?" Still he did not look at the book but to her utter astonishment said, while a smile illumined his face, "I bought that copy of 'The Compleat Angler' right here in this alcove." "From whom?" she half whispered. "From old Dan Whitner, who keeps a bookshop back on Walton place." "Thank you," she murmured, much relieved. Here was no mystery; one bookshop selling a book to another. There was more to it. She must follow on. "I suppose," he smiled, as if reading her thoughts, "that you'd like me to tell you where Dan got it, but that I cannot answer. You must ask him yourself. His address is 45 Walton place. It is ten minutes' walk from here; three blocks to your right as you leave our door, then two to your left, a block and a half to your left again and you are there. The sign's easy to read--just 'Dan Whitner, Books.' Dan's a prince of a chap. He'll do anything for a girl like you; would for anyone, for that matter. Ever been to New York before?" he asked suddenly. "No." "Come alone?" "Yes." He whistled softly to himself, "You western girls will be the death of us." "When there's some place that needs to be gone to we go to it," she smiled half defiantly. "There's nothing so terrible about that, is there?" "No, I suppose not," he admitted. "Well, you go see Dan. He'll tell you anything he knows." With that he turned to his work. Lucile, however, was not ready to go. She had one more question to ask, even though it might be another faux pas. "Would you--would you mind telling me how you knew what book I had when you did not see it?" she said. "I did see it," he smiled, as if amused. "I didn't see it when you expected me to see it, that was all. I saw it long before--saw it when I was at the phone. It's a habit we book folks have of doing one thing with our ears and another with our eyes. We have to or we'd never get through in a day if we didn't. Your little book protruded from your pocket. I knew you were going to say something about it; perhaps offer to sell it, so I looked at it. Simple, wasn't it? No great mystery about it. Hope your other mysteries will prove as simple. Got any friends in New York?" "No." He shook his head in a puzzled manner, but allowed her to leave the room without further comment. CHAPTER XX "THAT WAS THE MAN" Dan Whitner was a somewhat shabby likeness of Roderick Vining; that is, he was a gray-haired, stoop-shouldered, young-old man who knew a great deal about books. His shelves were dusty, so too was a mouse-colored jacket. Yes, he "remembered the book quite well." Lucile began to get the notion that once one of these book wizards set eyes upon an ancient volume he never forgot it. "Strange case, that," smiled Dan as he looked at her over his glasses. "Ah! Here is where I learn something of real importance," was the girl's mental comment. "You see," Dan went on, "I sometimes have dinner with a very good friend who also loves books--the Reverend Dr. Edward Edwards. Dinner, on such occasions, is served on a tea-wagon in his library; sort of makes a fellow feel at home, don't you know? "Well, one of these evenings when the good doctor had an exceptional roast of mutton and a hubbard squash just in from the farm and a wee bit of something beside, he had me over. While we waited to be served I was glancing over his books and chanced to note the book you now have in your hand. 'I see,' I said to him jokingly, 'that you have come into a legacy.' "'Why, no,' he says looking up surprised. 'Why should you think that?' "I pointed to this little copy of 'The Compleat Angler' and said, 'Only them as are very rich can afford to possess such as this one.' "He looked at me in surprise, then smiled as he said, 'I did pay a little too much for it, I guess, but the print was rather unusual; besides, it's a great book. I don't mind admitting that it cost me fifteen dollars.' "'Fifteen dollars!' I exploded. "'Got trimmed, did I?' he smiled back. 'Well, you know the old saying about the clergy, no business heads on them, so we'll let it stand at that.' "'Trimmed nothing!' I fairly yelled. 'The book's a small fortune in itself; one of those rare finds. Why--I'd venture to risk six hundred dollars on it myself without opening the covers of it. It's a first edition or I'm not a book seller at all.' "'Sold!' he cried in high glee. 'There are three families in my parish who are in dire need. This book was sent, no doubt, to assist me in tiding them over.' "So that's how I came into possession of the book. I sold it to Vining at Burtnoe's, as you no doubt know." "But," exclaimed Lucile breathlessly, feeling that the scent was growing fresher all the while, "from whom did the doctor purchase it at so ridiculous a price?" "From a fool bookstorekeeper of course; one of those upstarts who know nothing at all about books; who handle them as pure merchandise, purchased at so much and sold for forty and five per cent more, regardless of actual value. He'd bought it to help out some ignorant foreigner, a Spaniard I believe. He'd paid ten dollars and had been terribly pleased within himself when he made five on the deal." "Who was he?" Lucile asked eagerly, "and where was his shop?" "That I didn't trouble to find out. Very likely he's out of business by now. Such shops are like grass in autumn, soon die down and the snow covers them up. The doctor could tell you though. I'll give you his address and you may go and ask him." The short afternoon was near spent and the shades of night were already falling when at last Lucile entered the shop of the unfortunate bookseller who had not realized the value of the little book. Lunch had delayed her, then the doctor had been out making calls and had kept her waiting for two hours. The little shop had been hard to find, but here at last she was. A pitiful shop it was, possessing but a few hundred volumes and presided over by a grimy-fingered man who might but the day before have been promoted from the garbage wagon so far as personal appearance was concerned. Indeed, as Lucile looked over the place she was seized with the crazy notion that the whole place, books, shelves and proprietor, had but recently climbed down from the junk cart. "And yet," she told herself, "it was from this very heap of dusty paper and cardboard that this precious bit of literature which I have in my pocket, was salvaged. I must not forget that. "I believe," she told herself with an excited intake of breath, "that I am coming close to the end of my search. All day I have been descending step by step; first the wonderful Burtnoe's Book Store with all its magnificence and its genius of a bookman, then Dan Whitner and the doctor, now this place, and then perhaps, whoever the person is who sold the book to this pitiful specimen of a bookseller." Her heart skipped a beat as the bookman, having caught sight of her, began to amble in her direction. She made her question short and to the point. "Where did you get this book?" "That book?" he took it and turned it over in his hand. He scratched his head. "That, why that book must have been one I bought with a lot at an auction sale last week. Want'a buy it?" "No. No!" exclaimed Lucile, seizing the book. "It's not your book. It is mine but you had it once and sold it. What I wish to know is, where did you get it?" Three customers were thumbing through the books. One seated at a table turned and looked up. His face impressed the girl at once as being particularly horrible. Dark featured, hook-nosed, with a blue birthmark covering half his chin, he inspired her with an almost uncontrollable fear. "We--we--" she faltered "--may we not step back under the light where you can see the book better?" The shopkeeper followed her in stolid silence. It was necessary for her to tell him the whole story of the purchase and sale of the book before he recognized it as having once been on his shelves. "Oh, yes," he exclaimed at last. "Made five dollars on her. Thought I had made a mistake, but didn't; not that time I didn't. Where'd I get her? Let's see?" As he stood there attempting to recall the name of the purchaser, Lucile's gaze strayed to an opening between two rows of books. Instantly her eyes were caught as a bird's by a serpent, as she found herself looking into a pair of cruel, crafty, prying eyes. They vanished instantly but left her with a cold chill running up her spine. It was the man who had been seated at the table, but why had he been spying? She had not long to wait before a possible solution was given her. "I know!" exclaimed the shopkeeper at this instant, "I bought it from a foreigner. Bought two others from him, too. Made good money on 'em all, too. Why!" he exclaimed suddenly, "he was in here when you came. Had another book under his arm, he did; wanted to sell it, I judge. I was just keeping him waiting a little so's he wouldn't think I wanted it too bad. If they think you want their books bad they stick for a big price." His voice had dropped to a whisper; his eyes had narrowed to what was meant to be a very wise-meaning expression. "May be here yet." He darted around the stand of books. "That's him just going out the door. Hey, you!" he shouted after the man. Paying not the least attention, the person passed out, slamming the door after him. Passing rapidly down the room, the proprietor poked his head out of the door and shouted twice. After listening for a moment he backed into the room and shut the door. "Gone," he muttered. "Worse luck to me. Sometimes we wait too long and sometimes not long enough. Now some other lucky dog will get that book." In the meantime Lucile had glanced about the shop. Two persons were reading beneath a lamp in the corner. Neither was the man with the birthmark. It was natural enough to conclude that it was he who had left the room. "Did he have a birthmark on his chin, this man you bought the book from?" she asked as the proprietor returned. "Yes, ma'am, he did." "Then I saw him here a moment ago. When is he likely to return?" "That no one can tell. Perhaps to-morrow, perhaps never. He has not been here before in three months. Did you wish to speak with him?" Lucile shivered. "Well, perhaps not," she half whispered. "Huh!" grunted the proprietor suddenly, "what's this? Must be the book he brought. He's forgotten it. Now he is sure to be back." Lucile was rather of the opinion that he would not soon return. She believed that there had been some trickery about the affair of these valuable books which were being sold to the cheapest book dealer in the city for a very small part of their value. "Perhaps they were stolen," she told herself. At once the strangeness of the situation came to her; here she was with a book in her possession which had been but recently stolen from Frank Morrow's book shop by a girl and now circumstances seemed to indicate that this very book had been stolen by some person who had sold it to this bookmonger, who had passed it on to the doctor who had sold it to Dan Whitner, who had sold it to Roderick Vining, who had sold it to Frank Morrow. "Sounds like the house that Jack built," she whispered to herself. "But then I suppose some valuable books have been stolen many times. Frank Morrow said one of his had been stolen twice within a week by totally different persons." Turning to the shopkeeper, she asked if she might see the book that had been left behind. As she turned back the cover a low exclamation escaped her lips. In the corner of that cover was the same secret mark as had been in all the mystery books, the gargoyle and the letter L. Hiding her surprise as best she could, she handed the book to the man with the remark: "Of course you cannot sell the book, since it is not your own?" "I'd chance it." "I'll give you ten dollars for it. If he returns and demands more, I will either pay the price or return the book. I'll give you my address." "Done!" he exclaimed. "I don't think you'll ever hear from me. I'll give him seven and he'll be glad enough to get it. Pretty good, eh?" he rubbed his hands together gleefully. "Three dollars clean profit and not a cent invested any of the time." Like the ancient volume on fishing, this newly acquired book was small and thin, so without examining its contents she thrust it beside the other in the large pocket of her coat. "I suppose I oughtn't to have done it," she whispered to herself as she left the shop, "but if I hadn't, he'd have sold it to the first customer. It's evidence in the case and besides it may be valuable." A fog hung over the city. The streets were dark and damp. Here and there a yellow light struggled to pierce the denseness of the gloom. As she turned to the right and walked down the street, not knowing for the moment quite what else to do, she fancied that a shadow darted down the alley to her left. "Too dark to tell. Might have been a dog or anything," she murmured. Yet she shivered and quickened her pace. She was in a great, dark city alone and she was going--where? That she did not know. The day's adventures had left her high and dry on the streets of a city as a boat is left by the tide on the sand. CHAPTER XXI A THEFT IN THE NIGHT There is no feeling of desolation so complete as that which sweeps over one who is utterly alone in a great city at night. The desert, the Arctic wilderness, the heart of the forest, the boundless sea, all these have their terrors, but for downright desolation give me the heart of a strange city at night. Hardly had Lucile covered two blocks on her journey from the book shop when this feeling of utter loneliness engulfed her like a bank of fog. Shuddering, she paused to consider, and, as she did so, fancied she caught the bulk of a shadow disappearing into a doorway to the right of her. "Where am I and where am I to go?" she asked herself in a wild attempt to gather her scattered senses. In vain she endeavored to recall the name of the street she was on at that moment. Her efforts to recall the route she had taken in getting there were quite as futile. "Wish I were in Chicago," she breathed. "The very worst of it is better than this. There at least I have friends somewhere. Here I have none anywhere. Wish Florence were here." At that she caught herself up; there was no use in wishing for things that could not be. The question was, what did she intend to do? Was she to seek out a hotel and spend the night there, to resume her search for the first person in America who had sold the ancient copy of the Angler, or was she to take the first train back to Chicago? She had a feeling that she had seen the man she sought and that weeks of search might not reveal him again; yet she disliked going back to Frank Morrow with so little to show for his hundred dollars invested. "Anyway," she said at last with a shudder, "I've got to get out of here. Boo! it seems like the very depths of the slums!" She started on at a brisk pace. Having gone a half block she faced about suddenly; she fancied she heard footsteps behind her. She saw nothing but an empty street. "Nerves," she told herself. "I've got to get over that. I know what's the matter with me though; I haven't eaten for hours. I'll find a restaurant pretty soon and get a cup of coffee." There is a strange thing about our great cities; in certain sections you may pass a half dozen coffee shops and at least three policemen in a single block; in other sections you may go an entire mile without seeing either. Evidently, eating places, like policemen, crave company of their own kind. Lucile had happened upon a policeless and eat-shopless section of New York. For a full twenty minutes she tramped on through the fog, growing more and more certain at every step that she was being followed by someone, and not coming upon a single person or shop that offered her either food or protection. Suddenly she found herself in the midst of a throng of people. A movie theater had disgorged this throng. Like a sudden flood of water, they surrounded her and bore her on. They poured down the street to break up into two smaller streams, one of which flowed on down the street and the other into a hole in the ground. Having been caught in the latter stream, and not knowing what else to do, eager for companionship of whatever sort, the girl allowed herself to be borne along and down into the hole. Down a steep flight of steps she was half carried, to be at last deposited on a platform, alongside of which in due time a train of electric cars came rattling in. "The subway," she breathed. "It will take me anywhere, providing I know where I want to go." Just as she was beginning to experience a sense of relief from contact with this flowing mass of humanity she was given a sudden shock. To the right of her, through a narrow gap in the throng, she recognized a face. The gap closed up at once and the face disappeared, but the image of it remained. It was the face of the man she had seen in the shop, he of the birthmark on his chin. "No doubt of it now," she said half aloud. "He _is_ following me." Then, like some hunted creature of the wild, she began looking about her for a way of escape. Before her there whizzed a train. The moving cars came to a halt. A door slid open. She leaped within. The next instant the door closed and she was borne away. To what place? She could not tell. All she knew was that she was on her way. Quite confident that she had evaded her pursuer, she settled back in her seat to fall into a drowsy stupor. How far she rode she could not tell. Having at last been roused to action by the pangs of hunger, she rose and left the car. "Only hope there is some place to eat near," she sighed. Again she found herself lost in a jam; the legitimate theaters were disgorging their crowds. She was at this time, though she did not know it, in the down town district. Her right hand was disengaged; in her left she carried a small leather bag. As she struggled through the throng, she experienced difficulty in retaining her hold on this bag. Of a sudden she felt a mighty wrench on its handle and the next instant it was gone. There could be no mistaking that sudden pull. It had been torn from her grasp by a vandal of some sort. As she turned with a gasp, she caught sight of a face that vanished instantly, the face of the man with the birthmark on his chin. Instantly the whole situation flashed through her mind; this man had been following her to regain possession of one or both of the books which at this moment reposed in her coat pocket. He had made the mistake of thinking these books were in the bag. He would search the bag and then-- She reasoned no further; a car door was about to close. She dashed through it at imminent risk of being caught in the crush of its swing and the next instant the car whirled away. "Missed him that time," she breathed. "He will search the bag. When he discovers his mistake it will be too late. The bird has flown. As to the bag, he may keep it. It contains only a bit of a pink garment which I can afford to do without, and two clean handkerchiefs." Fifteen minutes later when she left the car she found herself in a very much calmer state of mind. Convinced that she had shaken herself free from her undesirable shadow, and fully convinced also that nothing now remained but to eat a belated supper and board the next train for her home city, she went about the business of finding out what that next train might be and from what depot it left. Fortunately, a near-by hotel office was able to furnish her the information needed and to call a taxi. A half hour later she found herself enjoying a hot lunch in the depot and at the same time mentally reveling in the soft comfort of "Lower 7" of car 36, which she was soon to occupy. CHAPTER XXII MANY MYSTERIES One might have supposed that, considering she was now late into the night of the most exacting and exciting day of her whole life, Lucile, once she was safely stowed away in her berth on the train, would immediately fall asleep. This, however, was not the case. Her active brain was still at work, still struggling to untangle the many mysteries that, during the past weeks, had woven themselves into what seemed an inseparable tangle. So, after a half hour of vain attempt to sleep, she sat bolt upright in her berth and snapped on the light, prepared if need be to spend the few remaining hours of that night satisfying the demands of that irreconcilable mind of hers. The train had already started. The heavy green curtains which hid her from the little outside world about her waved gently to and fro. Her white arms and shoulders gleamed in the light. Her hair hung tumbled in a mass about her. As the train took a curve, she was swung against the hammock in which her heavy coat rested. Her bare shoulder touched something hard. "The books," she said. "Wonder what my new acquirement is like?" She drew the new book from her pocket and, brushing her hair out of her eyes, scanned it curiously. "French," she whispered. "Very old French and hard to read." As she thumbed the pages she saw quaint woodcuts of soldiers and officers. Here was a single officer seated impressively upon a horse; here a group of soldiers scanning the horizon; and there a whole battalion charging a very ancient fieldpiece. "Something about war," she told herself. "That's about all I can make out." She was ready to close the book when her eye was caught by an inscription written upon the fly leaf. "Looks sort of distinguished," she told herself. "Shouldn't wonder if the book were valuable because of that writing if for nothing else." In this surmise she was more right than she knew. She put the book carefully away but was unable to banish the questions which the sight of it had brought up. Automatically her mind went over the incidents which had led up to this precise moment. She saw the child in the university library, saw her take down the book and flee, saw her later in the mystery cottage on Tyler street. She fought again the battle with the hardened foster mother of the child and again endured the torturing moments in that evil woman's abode. She thought of the mysterious person who had followed her and had saved her from unknown terrors by notifying the police. Had that person been the same as he who had followed her this very night in an attempt to regain possession of the two books? No, surely not. She could not conceive of his doing her an act of kindness. She thought of the person who had followed them to the wall of the summer cottage out at the dunes and wondered vaguely if he could have been the same person who had followed them on Tyler street at one time and at that other saved her from the clutches of the child's foster parents. She wondered who he could be. Was he a detective who had been set to dog her trail or was he some friend? The latter seemed impossible. If he was a detective, how had she escaped him on this trip? Or, after all, had she? It gave her a little thrill to think that perhaps in the excitement of the day his presence near her had not been noticed and that he might at this very moment be traveling with her in this car. Involuntarily she seized the green curtains and tried to button them more tightly, then she threw back her head and laughed at herself. "But how," she asked herself, "is all this tangle to be straightened out? Take that one little book, 'The Compleat Angler.' The child apparently stole it from Frank Morrow; I have it from her by a mere accident; Frank Morrow has it from one New York book shop; that shop from another; the other from a theologian; he from a third book shop; and that shop more than likely from a thief, for if he would attempt to steal it from me to-night, he more than likely stole it in the first place and was attempting to get it from me to destroy my evidence against him. Now if the book was stolen in the first place and all of us have had stolen property in our possession, in the form of this book, what's going to happen to the bunch of us and how are we ever to square ourselves? Last of all," she smiled, "where does our friend, the aged Frenchman, the godfather of that precious child, come in on it? And what is the meaning of the secret mark?" With all these problems stated and none of them solved, she at last found a drowsy sensation about to overcome her, so settling back upon her pillow and drawing the blankets about her, she allowed herself to drift off into slumber. The train she had taken was not as speedy as the one which had taken her to New York. Darkness of another day had fallen when at last she recognized the welcome sound of the train rumbling over hollow spaces at regular intervals and knew that she was passing over the streets of her own city. Florence would be there to meet her. Lucile had wired her the time of her arrival. It certainly would seem good to meet someone she knew once more. As the train at last rattled into the heart of the city, she caught an unusual red glow against the sky. "Fire somewhere," she told herself without giving it much thought, for in a city of millions one thinks little of a single blaze. It was only after she and Florence had left the depot that she noted again that red glow with a start. The first indication that something unusual was happening in that section of the city was the large amount of traffic which passed the street car they had taken. Automobiles, trucks and delivery cars rattled rapidly past them. "That's strange!" she told herself. "The street is usually deserted at this time of night. I wonder if the fire could be over this way; but surely it would be out by now." At last the traffic became so crowded that their car, like a bit of debris in a clogged stream, was caught and held in the middle of it all. "What's the trouble?" she asked the conductor. "Bad fire up ahead, just across the river." "Across the river? Why--that's where Tyler street is." "Yes'm, in that direction." "Come on," she said, seizing Florence by the arm; "the fire's down toward Tyler street. I think we ought to try to get to the cottage if we can. What could that child and the old Frenchman do if the fire reached their cottage? He'd burn rather than leave his books and the child wouldn't leave him; besides there are the books that belong to other people and that I'm partly responsible for. C'm'on." For fifteen minutes they struggled down a street that was thronged with excited people. "One wouldn't believe that there could be such a crowd on the streets at this hour of the night," panted Florence, as she elbowed her way forward. "Lucile, you hang to my waist. We must not be separated." They came to a dead stop at last. At the end of the river bridge a rope had been thrown across the street. At paces of ten feet this rope was guarded by policemen. None could pass save the firemen. The fire was across the river but sent forth a red glare that was startling. By dint of ten minutes of crawling Florence succeeded in securing for them a position against the rope. A large fire in a city at night is a grand and terrible spectacle. This fire was no exception. Indeed, it was destined to become the worst fire the city had experienced in more than forty years. Starting in some low, ancient structures that lay along the river, it soon climbed to a series of brick buildings occupied by garment makers. The flames, like red dragons' tongues, darted in and out of windows. With a great burst they leaped through a tar-covered roof to mount hundreds of feet in air. Burning fragments, all ablaze, leaped to soar away in the hot currents of air. The firemen, all but powerless, fought bravely. Here a fire tower reared itself to dizzy heights in air. Here and there fire hose, like a thousand entwined serpents, writhed and twisted. Here a whole battery of fire engines smoked and there two powerful gasoline driven engines kept up a constant heavy throbbing. Roofs and walls crumbled, water tanks tottered and fell, steel pillars writhed and twisted in the intense heat, chimneys came crashing in heaps. The fire had all but consumed the row of four-story buildings. Then with a fresh dash of air from the lake it burst forth in earnest, a real and terrible conflagration. Lucile, as she stood there watching it, felt a thousand hitherto unexperienced emotions sweep over her. But at last she came to rest with one terrible fact bearing down upon her very soul. Tyler street was just beyond this conflagration. Who could tell when the fire would reach the mysterious tumble-down cottage with its aged occupant? She thought of something else, of the books she might long since have returned to their rightful owners and had not. "Now they will burn and I will never be able to explain," she told herself. "Somehow I must get through!" In her excitement she lifted the rope and started forward. A heavy hand was instantly laid on her shoulders. "Y' can't go over there." "I must." "Y' can't." The policeman thrust her gently back behind the rope and drew it down before her. "I must go," she told herself. "Oh, I must! I must!" CHAPTER XXIII INSIDE THE LINES "Come on," Lucile said, pulling at Florence's arm. "We've got to get there. It must be done. For everything that must be done there is always a way." They crowded their way back through the throng which was hourly growing denser. It was distressing to catch the fragments of conversation that came to them as they fought their way back. Tens of thousands of people were being robbed of their means of making a living. Each fresh blaze took the bread from the mouths of hundreds of children. "T'wasn't much of a job I had," muttered an Irish mother with a shawl over her head, "but it was bread! Bread!" "Every paper, every record of my business for the past ten years, was in my files and the office is doomed," roared a red-faced business man. "It's doomed! And they won't let me through." "There's not one of them all that needs to get through more badly than I," said Lucile, with a lump in her throat. "Surely there must be a way." Working their way back, the two girls hurried four blocks along Wells street, which ran parallel to the river, then turned on Madison to fight their way toward a second bridge. "Perhaps it is open," Lucile told Florence. Her hopes were short-lived. Again they faced a rope and a line of determined-faced policemen. "It just must be done!" said Lucile, setting her teeth hard as they again backed away. An alley offered freer passage than the street. They had passed down this but a short way when they came upon a ladder truck which had been backed in as a reserve. On it hung the long rubber coats and heavy black hats of the firemen. Instinctively Lucile's hand went out for a coat. She glanced to right and left. She saw no one. The next instant she had donned that coat and was drawing a hat down solidly over her hair. "I know it's an awful thing to do," she whispered, "but I am doing it for them, not for myself. You may come or stay. It's really my battle. I've got to see it through to the end. You always advised against going further but I ventured. Now it's do or die." Florence's answer was to put out a hand and to grasp a fireman's coat. The next moment, in this new disguise, they were away. Had the girls happened to look back just before leaving the alley they might have surprised a stoop-shouldered, studious-looking man in the act of doing exactly as they had done, robing himself in fireman's garb. Dressed as they now were, they found the passing of the line a simple matter. Scores of fire companies and hundreds of firemen from all parts of the city had been called upon in this extreme emergency. There was much confusion. That two firemen should be passing forward to join their companies did not seem unusual. The coats and hats formed a complete disguise. The crossing of the bridge was accomplished on the run. They reached the other side in the nick of time, for just as they leaped upon the approach the great cantilevers began to rise. A huge freighter which had been disgorging its cargo into one of the basements that line the river had been endangered by the fire. Puffing and snarling, adding its bit of smoke to the dense, lampblack cloud which hung over the city, a tug was working the freighter to a place of safety. "We'll have to stay inside, now we're here," panted Lucile. "There's a line formed along the other approach. Here's a stair leading down to the railway tracks. We can follow the tracks for a block, then turn west again. There'll be no line there; it's too close to the fire." "Might be dangerous," Florence hung back. "Can't help it. It's our chance." Lucile was halfway down the stair. Florence followed and the next moment they were racing along a wall beside the railway track. A switch engine racing down the track with a line of box cars, one ablaze, forced them to flatten themselves against the wall. There was someone following them, the studious boy in a fireman's uniform. He barely escaped being run down by the engine, but when it had passed and they resumed their course, he followed them. Darting from niche to niche, from shadow to shadow, he kept some distance behind them. "Up here," panted Lucile, racing upstairs. The heat was increasing. The climbing of those stairs seemed to double its intensity. Cinders were falling all about them. "The wind has shifted," Florence breathed. "It--it's going to be hard." Lucile did not reply. Her throat was parched. Her face felt as if it were on fire. The heavy coat and hat were insufferable yet she dared not cast them away. So they struggled on. And their shadow, like all true shadows, followed. "Look! Oh, look!" cried Florence, reeling in her tracks. A sudden gust of wind had sent the fire swooping against the side of a magnificent building of concrete and steel. Towering aloft sixteen stories, it covered a full city block. "It's going," cried Lucile as she heard the awful crash of glass and saw flames bursting from the windows as if from the open hearth furnace of a foundry. It was true. The magnificent mahogany desks from which great, high-salaried executives sent out orders to thousands of weary tailors, made quite as good kindling that night as did some poor widow's washboard, and they were given quite as much consideration by that bad master, fire. "Hurry!" Lucile's voice was hoarse with emotion. "We must get behind it, out of the path of the wind, or we will be burned to a cinder." Catching the full force of her meaning, Florence seized Lucile's hand and together they rushed forward. Burning cinders rained about them, a half-burned board came swooping down to fall in their very path. Twice Lucile stumbled and fell, but each time Florence had her on her feet in an instant. "Courage! Courage!" she whispered. "Only a few feet more and then the turn." After what seemed an age they reached that turn and found themselves in a place where a breath of night air fanned their cheeks. Buildings lay between them and the doomed executive building. The firemen were plying these with water. The great cement structure would be completely emptied of its contents by the fire but it would stand there empty-eyed and staring like an Egyptian sphinx. "It may form a fire-wall which will protect this and the next street," said Florence hopefully. "The worst may be over." CHAPTER XXIV SECRETS REVEALED On a night such as this, one does not stand on formalities. There was a light burning in the mystery cottage on Tyler street. The girls entered without knocking. The scene which struck their eyes was most dramatic. On a long, low couch lay the aged Frenchman. Beside his bed, her hair disheveled, her garments blackened and scorched by fire, knelt the child. She was silently sobbing. The man, for all one could see, might be dead, so white and still did he lie. Yet as the girls, still dressed in great coats and rubber hats, stepped into the room, his eyes opened; his lips moved and the girls heard him murmur: "Ah, the firemen. Now my books will burn, the house will go. They all will burn. But like Montcalm at Quebec, I shall not live to see my defeat." "No, no, no!" the child sprang to her feet. "They must not burn! They shall not burn!" "Calm yourself," said Lucile, advancing into the room and removing her coat as she did so. "It is only I, your friend, Lucile. The fire is two blocks away and there is reason to hope that this part of Tyler street will be saved. The huge concrete building is burning out from within but is standing rugged as a great rock. It is your protection." "Ah, then I shall die happy," breathed the man. "No! No! No!" almost screamed the child. "You shall not die." "Hush, my little one," whispered the man. "Do not question the wisdom of the Almighty. My hour has come. Soon I shall be with my sires and with my sons and grandsons; with all the brave ones who have so nobly defended our beloved France. "And as for you, my little one, you have here two friends and all my books. It is in the tin box behind the books, my will. I have no living kin. I have made you my heir. The books are worth much money. You are well provided for. Your friends here will see that they are not stolen from you, will you not?" Florence and Lucile, too touched to trust themselves to speak, bowed their heads. "As for myself," the man went on in a hoarse whisper, "I have but one regret. "Come close," he beckoned to Lucile. "Come very close. I have something more to tell you." Lucille moved close to him, something seeming to say to her, "Now you are to hear the gargoyle's secret." "Not many days ago," he began, "I told you some of my life, but not all. I could not. My heart was too sore. Now I wish to tell you all. You remember that I said I took my books to Paris. That is not quite true. I started with all of them but not all arrived. One box of them, the most precious of all, was stolen while on the way and a box of cheap and worthless books put in its place. "Heartbroken at this loss, I traced the robbers as best I could at last to find that the books had been carried overseas to America. "I came to America. They had been sold, scattered abroad. The thief eluded me, but the books I could trace. By the gargoyle in the corner and by the descriptions of dealers in rare books, I located many of them. "Those who had them had paid handsomely for them. They would not believe an old man's story. They would not give them up. "I brought suit in the courts. It was no use. No one would believe me. "Young lady," the old man's voice all but died away as his feeble fingers clutched at the covers, "young lady, every man has some wish which he hopes to fulfill. He may desire to become rich, to secure power, to write a book, to paint a great picture. There is always something. As for me, I wished but one thing, a very little thing: to die with the books, those precious volumes I had inherited. The foolish wish of a childish old man, perhaps, but that was my wish. The war has taken my family. They cannot gather by my bedside; I have only my books. And, thanks to this child," he attempted to place his hand on the child's bowed head, "thanks to her, there are but few missing at this, the last moment." For a little there was silence in the room, then the whisper began again, this time more faint: "Perhaps it was wrong, the way I taught the child to get the books. But they were really my own. I had not sold one of them. They were all my own. She knows where they came from. When I am gone, if that is the way of America, they may all be returned." Lucile hesitated for a moment, then bent over the dying man. "The books," she whispered. "Were two of them very small ones?" The expression on the dying man's face grew eager as he answered, "Yes, yes, very small and very rare. One was a book about fishing and the other--ah, that one!--that was the rarest of all. It had been written in by the great Napoleon and had been presented by him to one of his marshals, my uncle." Lucile's hand came out from behind her back. In it were two books. "Are these the ones?" she asked. "Yes, yes," he breathed hoarsely. "Those are the very most precious ones. I die--I die happy." For a second the glassy eyes stared, then lighted up with a smile that was beautiful to behold. "Ah!" he breathed, "I am happy now, happy as when a child I played beneath the grapevines in my own beloved France." Those were his last words. A moment later, Lucile turned to lead the silently weeping child into another room. As she did so, she encountered a figure standing with bowed head. It was the studious looking boy who had donned the fireman's coat and followed them. "Harry Brock!" she whispered. "How did you come here?" "I came in very much the same manner that you came," he said quietly. "I have been where you have been many times of late. I did not understand, but I thought you needed protection and since I thought of myself as the best friend you had among the men at the university, I took that task upon myself. I have been in this room, unnoticed, for some time. I heard what he said and now I think I understand. Please allow me to congratulate you and--and to thank you. You have strengthened my faith in--in all that is good and beautiful." He stepped awkwardly aside and allowed her to pass. CHAPTER XXV BETTER DAYS There was no time for explanations that night. The fire had been checked; the cottage and the rare books were safe, but there were many other things to be attended to. It was several days before Lucile met Harry Brock again and then it was by appointment, in the Cozy Corner Tea Room. Her time during the intervening days was taken up with affairs relating to her new charge, the child refugee, Marie. She went at once to Frank Morrow for advice. He expressed great surprise at the turn events had taken but told her that he had suspected from the day she had told the story to him that the books had been stolen from Monsieur Le Bon. "And now we will catch the thief and if he has money we will make him pay," he declared stoutly. He made good his declaration. Through the loosely joined but powerful league of book sellers he tracked down the man with the birthmark on his chin and forced him to admit the theft of the case of valuable books. As for money with which to make restitution, like most of his kind he had none. He could only be turned over to the "Tombs" to work out his atonement. The books taken from the university and elsewhere were offered back to the last purchasers. In most cases they returned them as the child's rightful possession, to be sold together with the many other rare books which had been left to Marie by Monsieur Le Bon. In all there was quite a tidy sum of money realized from the sale. This was put in trust for Marie, the income from it to be used for her education. As for that meeting of Lucile and Harry in the tea room, it was little more than a series of exclamations on the part of one or the other of them as they related their part in the mysterious drama. "And you followed us right out into the country that night we went to the Ramsey cottage?" Lucile exclaimed. "Yes, up to the wall," Harry admitted. "The water stopped me there." "And it was you who told the police I was in danger when that terrible man and woman locked me in?" Harry bowed his assent. He related how night after night, without understanding their strange wanderings, he had followed the two girls about as a sort of bodyguard. When Lucile thought how many sleepless nights it had cost him, her heart was too full for words. She tried to thank him. Her lips would not form words. "But don't you see," he smiled; "you were trying to help someone out of her difficulties and I was trying to help you. That's the way the whole world needs to live, I guess, if we are all to be happy." Lucile smiled and agreed that he had expressed it quite correctly, but down deep in her heart she knew that she would never feel quite the same toward any of her other fellow students as she did toward him at that moment. And so their tea-party ended. Frank Morrow insisted on the girls' accepting the two-hundred-dollar reward. There were two other rewards which had been offered for the return of missing books, so in the end Lucile and Florence found themselves in a rather better financial state. As for Marie, she was taken into the practice school of the university. By special arrangement she was given a room in the ladies' dormitory. It was close to that of her good friends, Lucile and Florence, so she was never lonely, and in this atmosphere which was the world she was meant to live in she blossomed out like a flower in the spring sunshine. The Roy J. Snell Books Mr. Snell is a versatile writer who knows how to write stories that will please boys and girls. He has traveled widely, visited many out-of-the-way corners of the earth, and being a keen observer has found material for many thrilling stories. His stories are full of adventure and mystery, yet in the weaving of the story there are little threads upon which are hung lessons in loyalty, honesty, patriotism and right living. Mr. Snell has created a wide audience among the younger readers of America. Boy or girl, you are sure to find a Snell book to your liking. His works cover a wide and interesting scope. Here are the titles of the Snell Books: _Mystery Stories for Boys_ 1. Triple Spies 2. Lost in the Air 3. Panther Eye 4. The Crimson Flash 5. White Fire 6. The Black Schooner 7. The Hidden Trail 8. The Firebug 9. The Red Lure 10. Forbidden Cargoes 11. Johnny Longbow 12. The Rope of Gold 13. The Arrow of Fire 14. The Gray Shadow 15. Riddle of the Storm 16. The Galloping Ghost 17. Whispers at Dawn; or, The Eye 18. Mystery Wings 19. Red Dynamite 20. The Seal of Secrecy 21. The Shadow Passes 22. Sign of the Green Arrow _The Radio-Phone Boys' Series_ 1. Curlie Carson Listens In 2. On the Yukon Trail 3. The Desert Patrol 4. The Seagoing Tank 5. The Flying Sub 6. Dark Treasure 7. Whispering Isles 8. Invisable Wall _Adventure Stories for Girls_ 1. The Blue Envelope 2. The Cruise of the O'Moo 3. The Secret Mark 4. The Purple Flame 5. The Crimson Thread 6. The Silent Alarm 7. The Thirteenth Ring 8. Witches Cove 9. The Gypsy Shawl 10. Green Eyes 11. The Golden Circle 12. The Magic Curtain 13. Hour of Enchantment 14. The Phantom Violin 15. Gypsy Flight 16. The Crystal Ball 17. A Ticket to Adventure 18. The Third Warning * * * * * * Transcriber's note: --Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text--this e-text is in the public domain in the country of publication. --Obvious typographical errors were corrected without comment. --Dialect and non-standard spellings were not changed. --Promotional material was moved to the end of the book, and the list of books in the three series was completed by using other sources. 
52627	----	generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) LIBRARY IDEALS [Illustration: Henry E. Legler] LIBRARY IDEALS BY HENRY E. LEGLER Compiled and Edited by His Son, HENRY M. LEGLER. CHICAGO:: LONDON THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING COMPANY 1918 COPYRIGHT BY THE OPEN COURT PUBLISHING COMPANY 1918 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA CONTENTS Preface VII The Problem of the Cities 1 Certain Phases of Library Extension 10 Next Steps 21 The World of Print and the World's Work 36 Library Work With Children 57 Traveling Libraries 64 Administration of Library Funds 73 PREFACE Wisconsin, a true cradle of freedom and successful government, has fostered several librarians who were true humanists. Dr. Peckham was one. Dr. Thwaites was another. Henry E. Legler was unlike either of these, but greater than either in his continued and unabated activity for the good of the people. Once, on being complimented for his splendid work in natural history and his persistence in the pursuit of scientific facts, Dr. Peckham remarked: "Oh, yes, but the facts have no value in themselves. They merely build up the groundwork of the ideas, and help you climb to the point of view where the deeper aspects of the subject spread out before you like a landscape beneath a mountain-top." Mr. Legler's activity in behalf of libraries will support the same explanation. He seemed always immersed in detail, always planning some movement and carrying it into effect by his peculiar, dynamic persistence. But he who observed the man kindly and closely cannot have failed to have noticed that there was a distinct _Beyond_ illumining and overshadowing it all. There was a dream to come true, a vision to be unfolded. The dream and vision were in the man's speech and eye. He lived under a prophecy. It is not for us to estimate whether this prophecy became fulfilled in his life as one of us. But it is our privilege to confess that it brought to us the things which Europeans have designated as "culture" and which really is enlightenment. Thus it is that many of Mr. Legler's associates and friends will recollect with gratitude that some gave them knowledge, and others gave them opportunities, but it was for Mr. Legler to illumine their knowledge and opportunity with the live spark of inspiration. The dream was in his eye, inspiration was in his speech and manner. Library work was the means in his power of making his fellow-men ever more free and happy, ever more master of themselves, ever more capable of being guided, not by fear and never by prejudice, but by a live responsibility to the spirit within them. Personally, though a most assiduous worker at his official desk in Milwaukee, Madison or Chicago, he always thought of escaping and of seeking some quiet spot in the wilderness--where, doubtless, he hoped to view his work from _above_. How many librarians nowadays have such a hope? Of his method with the men and women of his age many of us will retain unforgettable memories. He was prompt, precise, perhaps even brief, but invariably gracious. His Italian ancestry told in the inimitable grace he unfolded to kindred spirits in confidence. We never were in doubt of the things he admired and fostered. We never felt there were hidden recesses of doubt and perplexity behind his sympathies. His grace of manner never was marred by contact with less enlightened surroundings. It is inimitable and unforgettable how he would pause in the midst of some matter of the moment, to plunge into some subject which he knew would interest and benefit the other person. And how grateful he was to strike a vein of gold in a seemingly unpromising human ore! Secretary of the Milwaukee Board of Education, and Secretary of the Wisconsin Free Library Commission, Mr. Legler was already well versed in official service when chosen Librarian of the Chicago Public Library. He had declined several offers of important posts before that time, because the work he would give called for perfect freedom to work out the problems as he saw them. Wisconsin had given him this freedom. Chicago promised it--and kept her promise. There was sufficient prestige within the Chicago Public Library to warrant respect for, and liberal support of, its work, but the public estimate of this prestige was lacking. Other large cities possess this estimate in varying degree. Chicago--not its library--had fallen behind. The effect of Mr. Legler's presence in Chicago has been most fortunate for all concerned. He took his place in public affairs naturally and effectively. The library's prestige grew in public recognition as the work of himself and his associates progressed. He gave all--and they accepted all, naturally and easily. But the giving and taking required all his bodily strength. He knew that an easier life was possible, but his humanity could not accept the easier form, and so the strength gave out. But the spirit remains. Mr. Legler gave valuable contributions to historical investigation and to literary criticism, and he has published notable contributions to the elucidation of American forms of life. His contributions to library science and the art of books have been in part collected in the volume herewith presented. The main purpose in collecting them in the present form is to convey their purposes to the friends who like to remember the mind out of which they grew--and to perpetuate to others a memory of that burning zeal, that aspiring enthusiasm, that radical idealism, which animated Mr. Legler in choosing the library as the place where true humanism may be fostered and American enlightenment may flourish. "Whatever began in the course of time--if of the Spirit of Truth and Love, it will be in time completed." J. CHRISTIAN BAY. THE PROBLEM OF THE CITIES Uncle Sam's last tabulation of his people holds within its maze of figures a basis for prophecy, as well as a summary of the present, and a comparison with the past. For those who are concerned with the making of an intelligent citizenship, perhaps the striking and significant fact is not the marvelous industrial development of the country, but rather the amazing growth of the cities. It needs no searching analysis to give emphasis to the sinister elements which are embodied in this bare statement. It means an approach to that critical period in the history of popular government when wise leadership and extension of education alone can serve to avert threatened disruption. Upon the people who are near to the soil will devolve the task of holding in balance the restless and turbulent elements which now make up so large a proportion of the dwellers in cities. The modern growth of the city, with all that this movement in population implies, must be reckoned with everywhere. Greater New York has a population exceeding that of any state in the Union except its own. Chicago has within its city limits more people than any of forty states. The ten leading cities comprise together one-eighth of the total population of the United States. If New York City and Chicago and their conditions are extreme manifestations, it must be taken into account that in perhaps not to exceed a quarter and at most a half century, this growth cityward will be duplicated in every section of the United States. There are now 58 cities in the United States each counting more than 100,000 population, eight of them in excess of half a million each; there are 180 cities more each counting from 25,000 to 100,000 inhabitants. It is hard to realize the rate of urban growth. In spite of the opening of vast tracts of land to be had almost for the asking, the total town population has multiplied in the last hundred years from 3 to approximately 50 per cent. For the third or fourth time, the city is becoming the dominant factor in the world's history. The city-states of Greece rose and fell. Some of them became spoils of conquerors, others wasted from internal causes. Corinth once exercised sovereignty of the seas, but half a million of her population were slaves. When destroyed by the Carthaginians, Agrigentum was said to number two millions of people. Genoa, Venice, the cities of the Hanseatic league, played their brief part in the commercial supremacy of their day. Rome once possessed a population of one million and a quarter, but though circled by beautiful villas and gardens, the common people lived congested in buildings whose floors and apartments were divided among numerous families. Famous writers have told us of the splendor and size of hundred-gated Thebes and Babylon and Antioch and Ephesus. But if there was splendor, there was vice; there was magnificence, but there dwelt squalor as well. Beauty and opulence fattening on human misery could not withstand famine, pestilence, and vice. The glories of the cities on the Nile, the Euphrates, and the Tiber are but a memory. And unless in the civic life of the modern city there is introduced an element that shall embrace the common good, perhaps Macaulay's oft-cited description of the New Zealander standing on the wreck of London bridge surveying the ruins of St. Paul's may yet become historic instead of merely prophetic. It is perhaps but one of many evidences of the restlessness of the day that the lure of the city beckons with attraction inescapable to the youth of the countryside. Young men and young women who yield to the fascination find too late that they have sought Dead Sea Fruit, "Which charms the eye But turns to ashes on the lips." The refuges and jails and lazarets and foul places of the great cities are filled with the derelicts of humanity who in less hectic atmosphere might have led lives of usefulness and contentment. Much has been done to give the life in the rural regions attractiveness and comfort; much more remains to be done, and particularly in supplying educational advantages, if the young men and women are to be made to feel that their opportunities are no less than those to be secured in larger cities of pulsing life. How wretchedly as yet this want has been met in most states, those charged with the supervision of educational activities can testify. There are those who in the face of present-day economic conditions contend that any attempt to stop the great trek cityward must prove as futile as the back-to-the-soil movement has on the whole proved to be. Any such admission bodes but ill for the future of this land. It means that the number of men who feel an ownership in the land, in houses, in the government must decrease. And therein lies a danger not to be lightly disregarded. Something of the dream and _Sehnsucht_ that comes to the dreaming country boy, Robert Louis Stevenson has pictured with his wonder touch in his idyl of the miller's boy. Something, too, he has suggested in his ending of the story: WILL O' THE MILL "The mill where Will lived with his adopted parents stood in a falling valley between pine woods and great mountains. Above, hill after hill soared upwards until they soared out of the depths of the hardiest timber, and stood naked against the sky. Below, the valley grew ever steeper and steeper, and at the same time widened out on either hand: and from an eminence beside the mill it was possible to see its whole length and away beyond it over a wide plain, where the river turned and shone, and moved on from city to city on its voyage towards the sea. All through the summer, traveling carriages came crawling up, or went plunging briskly downwards past the mill; and as it happened that the other side was very much easier of ascent, the path was not much frequented, except by people going in one direction; five-sixths were plunging briskly downwards and only one-sixth crawling up. "Whither went all the tourists and pedlars with strange wares? Whither all the brisk barouches with servants in the dicky? Whither the water of the stream, ever coursing downward and ever renewed from above? Even the wind blew oftener down the valley and carried the dead leaves along with it in the fall. It seemed like a great conspiracy of things animate and inanimate, they all went downward, fleetly and gaily downward, posting downward to the unknown world, and only he, it seemed, remained behind, like a stock upon the wayside. "From that day forward Will was full of new hopes and longings. Something kept tugging at his heartstrings; the running water carried his desires along with it as he dreamed over its fleeting surface; the wind, as it ran over innumerable tree-tops, hailed him with encouraging words; branches beckoned downward; the open road, as it shouldered round the angles and went turning and vanishing faster and faster down the valley, tortured him with its solicitations. He spent long whiles on the eminence, looking down the rivershed and abroad on the low flatlands and watched the clouds that traveled forth upon the sluggish wind and trailed their purple shadows on the plain; or, he would linger by the wayside, and follow the carriages with his eyes as they rattled downward by the river. It did not matter what it was; everything that went that way, were it cloud or carriage, bird, or brown water in the stream, he felt his heart flow out after it, in an ecstacy of longing. "One day, when Will was about sixteen, a young man arrived at sunset to pass the night. He was a contented-looking fellow, with a jolly eye, and carried a knapsack. While dinner was preparing, he sat in the arbour to read a book; but as soon as he had begun to observe Will, the book was laid aside; he was plainly one of those who prefer living people to people made of ink and paper. Will, on his part, although he had not been much interested in the stranger at first sight, soon began to take a great deal of pleasure in his talk, which was full of good nature and good sense, and at last conceived a great respect for his character and wisdom. They sat far into the night; and Will opened his heart to the young man, and told him how he longed to leave the valley and what bright hopes he had connected with the cities of the plain. The young man whistled, and then broke into a smile. "'My young friend,' he remarked, 'you are a very curious little fellow, to be sure, and wish a great many things which you will never get. Why, you would feel quite ashamed if you knew how the little fellows in these fairy cities of yours are all after the same sort of nonsense, and keep breaking their hearts to get up into the mountains. And let me tell you, those who go down into the plains are a very short while there before they wish themselves heartily back again. The air is not so light or so pure; nor is the sun any brighter. As for the beautiful men and women, you would see many of them in rags and many of them deformed; and a city is a hard place for people who are poor and sensitive.' "'You must think me very simple,' answered Will. 'Although I have never been out of this valley, believe me, I have used my eyes. I do not expect to find all things right in your cities. That is not what troubles me; it might have been that once upon a time; but although I live here always, I have asked many questions and learned a great deal in these last years, and certainly enough to cure me of my old fancies. But you would not have me die and not see all that is to be seen, and do all that a man can do, let it be good or evil? You would not have me spend all my days between this road here and the river, and not so much as make a motion to be up and live my life? I would rather die out of hand,' he cried, 'than linger on as I am doing.' "'Thousands of people,' said the young man, 'live and die like you, and are none the less happy.' "'Ah!' said Will, 'if there are thousands who would like, why should not one of them have my place?' "It was quite dark; there was a hanging lamp in the arbour which lit up the table and the faces of the speakers; and along the arch the leaves upon the trellis stood out illuminated against the bright sky, a pattern of transparent green upon a dusky purple. The young man rose, and, taking Will by the arm, led him out under the open heavens. "'Did you ever look at the stars?' he asked, pointing upwards. "'Often and often,' answered Will. "'And do you know what they are?' "'I have fancied many things.' "'They are worlds like ours,' said the young man. 'Some of them less; many of them a million times greater; and some of the least sparkles that you see are not only worlds, but whole clusters of worlds turning about each other in the midst of space.' "Will hung his head a little, and then raised it once more to heaven. The stars seemed to expand and emit a sharper brilliancy; and as he kept turning his eyes higher and higher, they seemed to increase in multitude under his gaze. * * * "Will went to and fro minding his wayside inn, until the snow began to thicken on his head. His heart was young and vigorous, and if his pulses kept a sober time, they still beat strong and steady in his wrists. He stooped a little, but his step was firm, and his sinewy hands were reached out to all men with a friendly pressure. His talk was full of wise sayings. He had a taste for other people and other people had a taste for him. His views seemed whimsical to his neighbors, but his rough philosophy was often enough admired by learned people out of town and colleges. Indeed, he had a very noble old age, and grew daily better known; so that his fame was heard of in the cities of the plains. Many and many an invitation to be sure, he had, but nothing could tempt him from his upland valley. He would shake his head and smile with a deal of meaning: 'Fifty years ago you would have brought my heart into my mouth; and now you do not even tempt me.'" There is a legend of how a flying party of wanderers encountered a very old man shod with iron. The old man asked them whither they were going; and they answered with one voice: "To the Eternal City!" He looked upon them gravely. "I have sought it," he said, "over the most part of the world. Three such pairs as I now carry on my feet have I worn out upon my pilgrimage, and now the fourth is growing slender underneath my steps." And he turned and went his own way alone, leaving them astonished. In the effort to make rural life of equal attractiveness with city life, it must be admitted that educational opportunities have lagged behind. Those who, by compulsion or otherwise, have left school in early years, find in the cities today abundant opportunity for self-help in the public libraries, in night schools, and in other agencies; the same opportunities are not provided to any appreciable extent in the country regions. In the present stage of educational development, there are today millions of young men and women who find in the public library the only open door through which they catch glimpses of opportunity beyond their own immediate domain. With all the limitations involved, this is a hopeful circumstance, for instances are plentiful where "the chance encounter with a book has marked the awakening of a life." One need not go to works of fiction to seek such stories, but in them may be found types which have been plucked from bits of real life. And in real life they could be multiplied a thousand times. Perhaps you recall the household of the Tullivers' when misfortune came upon it, and the change which a few well-thumbed volumes made in one of its members: "The new life was terrible to Maggie--Maggie with her strange dreams, with her hunger for love. Her father no longer stroked her hair as he used to do when she sat down in her low stool beside him at night, though he was more dependent on her than ever. Tom, weary and full of his new business ambitions, did not respond to her caresses. The poor mother remained hopelessly bewildered under the blow that had fallen on her placid existence. "The girl fell back on the meagre remnant of books that had been left by the creditors. She studied Virgil and Euclid and spent her days in the fields with the Latin dictionary and Tom's thumbed schoolbooks. One day she chanced on a worn copy of Thomas á Kempis, and she pushed her heavy hair back from her sad brow as if to see a sudden vision more clearly. That chronicle of a solitary, hidden anguish, struggle, faith and triumph came to her in her need and filled her heart with the writer's fervor of renunciation. "Her new inward life shone out in her face with a tender, soft light that mingled itself as added loveliness with the enriched color and outline of her blossoming youth. Maggie was beginning to show a queenly head above her old frocks, and her mother felt the change with a puzzled, dim wonder that the once 'contrary' and ugly child should be 'growing up so good.'" The higher life of the citizen has received too little attention, and the lower and baser life seems to have absorbed all the sympathy and care of the authorities. But we have touched the fringe of better days, and soon no municipality or local governing body will be considered complete unless it has under its administration a library and a museum, as well as a workhouse, a prison, and the preserves of law and order. It is for the provision for this higher national life that this plea is made, and upon municipalities is earnestly urged the need of giving the fullest and best attention to this question. The fact should be emphasized that the municipality can do for the people in the way of libraries and museums what cannot possibly be done by private enterprise. It may be unhesitatingly asserted that in fullest usefulness, economical management, and best value for money invested, the existing rate-supported libraries are far in advance of the private institutions of this nature. It is some forty years since Carlyle asked the question, "Why is there not a Majesty's library in every county town? There is a Majesty's gaol and gallows in every one," and it is as long since the Public Libraries Act was passed, and yet the lack of libraries is still one of the most startling deficiencies in these islands. We have given the people ever greater and greater political power, but they displayed no marked inclination to benefit themselves by means of books or other means of culture. "We must now educate our masters," said Mr. Lowe when the Reform Bill of 1867 was passed. He was quite right, for the said masters were by no means quick to educate themselves, and the number of public libraries which they consented to establish for three years after 1867 was about ten. Then came Mr. Forster's Education Act, and great things were expected of it. Now that everybody was to be taught his letters, everybody would surely want books to read also. What, indeed, would be the good of teaching people to read at all unless they were also to have a supply of good books? You might as well teach a man the use of his knife and fork and then not give him any meat. Public libraries are the natural and legitimate outcome of compulsory education. CERTAIN PHASES OF LIBRARY EXTENSION[1] Dreaming of Utopia, an English writer of romance evolved a plan for a people's palace, centering under one roof the pleasures and the interests and the hopes of democracy. Far away, if not improbable, as seemed the fruition of his dream, he lived to see prophecy merge in realization. Were this lover of mankind still living, he would know that his concept, though he saw it carried into being, had not permanence in the form he gave it. Ideals cannot be bounded by the narrow confines of four walls. And yet he had the vision of the seer, for that which he pictured in local form with definite limitations has, in a direction little dreamed of then, assumed form and substance in a great world movement. Not only in great hives of industry, where thousands congregate in daily toil, but in the small industrial hamlets and in the rural towns that dot the land lie the possibilities for many such palaces of the people, and in many--very many--of such communities today exist the beginnings that will combine and cement their many-sided interests. This great world movement which is gathering accelerated momentum with its own marvelous growth, we call library extension. That term is perhaps sufficiently descriptive, though it gives name rather to the means used than to the results sought to be achieved. For certainly its underlying principle is of the very essence of democracy. There is no other governmental enterprise--not excepting the public schools--that so epitomizes the spirit of democracy. For democracy in its highest manifestation is not that equality that puts mediocrity and idleness on the same level with talent and genius and thrift, but that equality which gives _all_ members of society an equal opportunity in life--that yields to no individual as a birthright chances denied to his fellow. And surely if there is any institution that represents this fundamental principle and carries out a policy in consonance, it is the public library. Neither condition nor place of birth, nor age, nor sex, nor social position, serves as bar of exclusion from this house of the open door, of the cordial welcome, of the sympathetic aid freely rendered. In myriad ways not dreamed of at its inception, library extension has sought channels of usefulness to reach all the people. The traveling library in rural regions, the branch stations in congested centers of population, the children's room, the department of technology, are a few of these--to mention the ones which occur most readily to mind. But these allied agencies do but touch the edge of opportunity. The immediate concern of those engaged in library extension must be with the forces reaching the adult population, and especially the young men and women engaged in industrial pursuits. For the mission of the public library is two-fold--an aid to material progress of the individual and a cultural influence in the community through the individual. Perhaps it may be said more accurately that the one mission is essential to give scope for the second. For, first of all, man must needs minister to his physical wants. Before there can be intellectual expansion and cultural development, there must be leisure, or at least conditions that free the mind from anxious care for the morrow. So the social structure after all must rest upon a bread-and-butter foundation. It follows as a logical conclusion that society as a whole cannot reach a high stage of development until all its individual members are surrounded with conditions that permit the highest self-development. Until a better agency shall be found, it is the public library which must serve this need. And therein lies the most potent reason for the extension of its work into every field, whether intimately or remotely affiliated, which can bring about these purposes. Its work with children is largely important to the extent that habits are formed and facility acquired in methods that shall be utilized in years succeeding school life. But its great problem is that of adult education. What an enormous field still lies untilled, we learn with startling emphasis from figures compiled by the government. Despite the fact that provision is made by state and municipality to give to every individual absolutely without cost an education embracing sixteen years of life, there are retarding circumstances that prevent all but a mere fraction of the population from enjoying these advantages in full measure. To quote a summary printed last year, "in the United States 16,511,024 were receiving elementary education during the year 1902-03; only 776,635 attained to a secondary education, and only 251,819 to the higher education of the colleges, technical schools, etc. Stated in simpler terms, this means that in the United States for one person who receives a higher education, or for three who receive the education of the secondary schools, there are sixty-five who receive only an elementary education, and that chiefly in the lowest grades of the elementary schools." What gives further meaning to this statistical recital is the force of modern economic conditions. From an agricultural we are developing into a manufacturing people, with enormous influx from the rural into the urban communities. The tremendous expansion of our municipalities has brought new and important problems. Within the lifetime of men today a hundred cities have realized populations in excess of that which New York City had when they were boys. Vast numbers of immigrants differing radically in intelligence and in education from earlier comers are pouring into the country annually. It has been pointed out that some of the largest Irish, German and Bohemian cities in the world are located in the United States, not in their own countries. In one ward in the city of Chicago forty languages are spoken by persons who prattled at their mother's knee one or the other of them. "The power of the public schools to assimilate different races to our own institutions, through the education given to the younger generation, is doubtless one of the most remarkable exhibitions of vitality that the world has ever seen," says Dr. John Dewey in an address on "The School as a Social Center." "But, after all, it leaves the older generation still untouched, and the assimilation of the younger can hardly be complete or certain as long as the homes of the parents remain comparatively unaffected. Social, economic and intellectual conditions are changing at a rate undreamed of in past history. Now, unless the agencies of instruction are kept running more or less parallel with these changes, a considerable body of men is bound to find itself without the training which will enable it to adapt itself to what is going on. It will be left stranded and become a burden for the community to carry. The youth at eighteen may be educated so as to be ready for the conditions which will meet him at nineteen; but he can hardly be prepared for those which are to confront him when he is forty-five. If he is ready for the latter when they come, it is because his own education has been keeping pace in the intermediate years." And again: "The daily occupations and ordinary surroundings of life are much more in need of interpretation than ever they have been before. Life is getting so specialized, the divisions of labor are carried so far that nothing explains or interprets itself. The worker in a modern factory who is concerned with a fractional piece of a complex activity, presented to him only in a limited series of acts carried on with a distinct position of a machine, is typical of much in our entire social life. Unless the lives of a large part of our wage earners are to be left to their own barren meagerness, the community must see to it by some organized agency that they are instructed in the scientific foundation and social bearings of the things they see about them, and of the activities in which they are themselves engaging." Now if those who come in such limited numbers from the colleges and universities, can keep step with the onward march of their fellows only by constantly adding to their educational equipment, what shall be said of that enormous army made up of conscripts from the ranks in the elementary schools?--the tender hands that drop the spelling book and seize the workman's dinner pail? Thus we establish the duty of the state to its citizenship in providing means for adult education. And herein lies a great opportunity for library extension--not, indeed, in seeking to supplant agencies already existent; not in creating new ones that will parallel others, but in supplementing their work where such educational agencies do exist, in supplying channels for their activities through its own greater facilities for reaching the masses. Important as are the public museum, the public art gallery, the popular lecture or lyceum feature, the public debate associated with or incorporated in the library, of as far-reaching importance is another and newer allied agency developed in university extension. The response which has come in establishing correspondence study as part of modern university extension is of tremendous significance. The enrollment in correspondence schools of a million grown-up men and women eager to continue their education, and willing to expend more than fifty million dollars a year in furtherance of that desire, is a factor that challenges attention. It is a new expression of an old impulse. Eighty years ago the working people and artisan classes of Great Britain took part in a similar movement. Its beginning was prompted by a wish for technical instruction. Soon these mechanics' institutes grew into social institutions, with collections of books as a secondary interest. The institutes increased enormously in number, until through their medium more than a million volumes a year were circulated. Charles Knight issued his penny encyclopedia, Robert and William Chambers led the way for inexpensive books, the Society for the Diffusion of Knowledge came into existence. Industrial England was for the time being the workshop of the world. And in the later university extension movement which, along new lines, is to make of universities having a state foundation really the instrument of the state for the good of all the people in place of the few, the libraries have a great opportunity to become an important factor. Millions of the adult population will thus be given an opportunity to bring out in its best form whatever of talent and of intellectual gift they may possess. From a private letter written by Professor McConachie, of the University of Wisconsin, who has charge of the correspondence study in the department of science, are taken the following extracts: "Old ways of teaching are breaking down. Library study and written exercises are re-enforcing classroom recitations and lectures. Each pupil of a term course studies one or two prescribed texts, reads and reports in detail a minimum of eight or nine hundred pages in a choice shelf collection of library books, takes and submits notes, writes brief themes and prepares for weekly quizzes wherein the members of his class section helpfully interchange ideas and information. The post-office is the medium for extension from the university to a vaster body of students everywhere throughout the state. The same materials--books, periodicals, newspapers, and official documents,--that the student of politics uses under the personal oversight of the university instructor, are scattered in vast abundance everywhere. The state is one great library. The largest single collection is paltry beside this magnificent and ever-increasing supply of political literature that permeates every hamlet. Civic intelligence has thriven upon the mere haphazard and desultory reading of the people. Correspondence studies will put their scattered material into shape for them and systematize their use thereof." The library and the university may serve the citizen by giving unity and direction to his reading, helping him to hitherto hidden worth and meaning in the humblest literary material at his hand, by quickening his interest alike in the offices, institutions and activities that lie nearest to his daily life and in his world-wide relationship with his fellowmen. For the citizen on the farm, at the desk, or in the factory, they point the way out of vague realizations into distinct and definite command of his political self, offer refreshing change from the narrowing viewpoint of individual interest, to the broadening viewpoint of his town or state or country, and lead on to far international vistas of world-wide life and destiny. Society has an interest in this beyond the rights of the individual. The greatest waste to society is not that which comes from improvidence, but from undeveloped or unused opportunity. So it becomes the duty of every community to make its contribution to the world, whether it be in the realm of invention, scientific discovery, or literature. And how is this to be done if genius and talent are allowed to die unborn for lack of opportunity to grow? Wonderful as has been the progress of the world's knowledge during the last century of scientific research, who will venture to say that it constitutes more than a fraction of what might have been if all the genius that remained dormant and unproductive could have been utilized? From what we know of isolated instances where mere chance has saved to the world great forces that make for the progress of humanity, we can infer what might have been realized, under happier conditions. Every librarian of experience, every administrator of traveling libraries, will recall such instances. One boy comes upon the right book, and the current of his life is changed; another reads a volume, and in his brain germinates the seed that blossoms into a great invention; in a chance hour of reading, a third finds in a page, a phrase, a word, the inspiration whose expression sets aflame the world. A master pen has vividly described the process:[2] "Most of us who turn to any subject with love remember some morning or evening hour when we got on a high stool to reach down an untried volume. * * * When hot from play he would toss himself in a corner, and in five minutes be deep in any sort of book that he could lay his hands on; if it were Rasselas or Gulliver, so much the better, but Bailey's Dictionary would do, or the Bible with the Apocrypha in it. Something he must read when he was not riding the pony, or running and hunting, or listening to the talk of men. * * * But, one vacation, a wet day sent him to the small home library to hunt once more for a book which might have some freshness for him. In vain! unless, indeed, he first took down a dusty row of volumes with gray-paper backs and dingy labels--the volumes of an old encyclopedia which he had never disturbed. It would at least be a novelty to disturb them. They were on the highest shelf, and he stood on a chair to get them down; but he opened the volume which he took first from the shelf; somehow one is apt to read in a makeshift attitude just where it might seem inconvenient to do so. The page he opened on was under the head of Anatomy, and the first passage that drew his eyes was on the valves of the heart. He was not much acquainted with valves of any sort, but he knew that valvæ were folding doors, and through this crevice came a sudden light startling him with his first vivid notion of finely-adjusted mechanism in the human frame. A liberal education had, of course, left him free to read the indecent passages in the school classics, but beyond a general sense of secrecy and obscenity in connection with his internal structure, had left his imagination quite unbiased, so that for anything he knew his brains lay in small bags at his temples, and he had no more thought of representing to himself how his blood circulated than how paper served instead of gold. But the moment of vocation had come, and before he got down from his chair the world was made new to him by a presentiment of endless processes filling the vast spaces planked out of his sight by that wordy ignorance which he had supposed to be knowledge. From that hour he felt the growth of an intellectual passion." And in this wise the world gained a great physician. All this may be said without disparagement to that phase of library usefulness which may be termed the recreative. There has been undue and unreasoning criticism of the library tendency to minister to the novel-reading habit. Many good people are inclined to decry the public library because not all its patrons confine their loans to books dealing with science, or with useful arts. In their judgment it is not the legitimate function of the public library to meet the public demand for fiction. These same good people would hardly urge that the freedom of the public parks should be limited to those who wish to make botanical studies. The pure joy in growing things and fresh air and the song of uncaged birds, needs no knowledge of scientific terms in botany and ornithology. These privileges are promotive of the physical well-being of the people; correspondingly, healthy mental stimulus is to be found in "a sparkling and sprightly story which may be read in an hour and which will leave the reader with a good conscience and a sense of cheerfulness." Our own good friend, Mr. John Cotton Dana, has admirably epitomized the underlying philosophy: "A good story has created many an oasis in many an otherwise arid life. Many-sidedness of interest makes for good morals, and millions of our fellows step through the pages of a story book into a broader world than their nature and their circumstances ever permit them to visit. If anything is to stay the narrowing and hardening process which specialization of learning, specialization of inquiry and of industry and swift accumulation of wealth are setting up among us, it is a return to romance, poetry, imagination, fancy, and the general culture we are now taught to despise. Of all these the novel is a part; rather, in the novel are all of these. But a race may surely find springing up in itself a fresh love of romance, in the high sense of that word, which can keep it active, hopeful, ardent, progressive. Perhaps the novel is to be, in the next few decades, part of the outward manifestation of a new birth of this love of breadth and happiness. There is, then, no limitation to the scope of library extension save that enforced by meagerness of resource and physical ability to do. In the proper affiliation and correlation of all these forces which have been enumerated and of others suggested by them, will develop that process whereby the social betterment that today seems but a dream will be brought into reality. The form this combination will assume need give us no concern--whether its local physical expression shall be as in Boston a group of buildings maintained as separate institutions; or as in Pittsburgh, a complete, related scheme of activities covered by one roof; as planned in Cleveland, a civic center with the public library giving it character and substance; or as in New York, where many institutions, remotely located but intimately associated, work toward a common end. Many roads may lead to a common center. Which one the wayfarer chooses is a matter of mere personal preference and of no importance, so that he wends his way steadily onwards towards the object of his attainment. In the evolution of these uplifting processes, the book shall stand as symbol, as the printed page shall serve as instrument. NEXT STEPS[3] Of all human interests that pertain to intellectual improvement--social evolution, scientific achievement, educational progress, governmental advance, or humanitarian endeavor, none has seemed too unimportant for consideration by library workers. Librarians have sought to identify their work with them all, to achieve contact with every individual, with groups of individuals and with communities as a whole. If intelligent method has sometimes seemed lacking, the enthusiasm and the self-denial of the missionary have been given in unstinted measure. To the home and to the mart, to the school and to the playground, to the workshop and to the laboratory, they have brought--whether asked or unsought--the best at their command. Not out of abundance has the library attempted so much in such diverse places. Its meager resources have been spread over such vast fields that in spots the substance has seemed tenuous and transparent. Most insufficient, and perhaps least successful thus far, but suggesting the most important function of library activity and presaging its most significant development, is that branch of service associated with grammar and secondary schools. Here lies the most fertile field for strong, vigorous, fruitful energizing of such forces as the library possesses. Curiously enough, a perception of values which inhere in the associated and co-ordinated efforts of school and library has not, as yet, dawned upon school men to any appreciable degree. Here and there, indeed, a vibrant voice has demanded the joining of effort for practical ends, but the teaching folk as a whole remain impervious to possibilities even when sensible of the need. Nearly four centuries ago, Martin Luther noted the possibilities of the library as an educational adjunct and necessity, and urged the founding of public libraries for the preservation and encouragement of learning.[4] "No cost nor pains," he urged in the concluding pages of his letter to the mayors of Germany, "should be spared to procure good libraries in suitable buildings, especially in the large cities which are able to afford it." From his day to ours there appears in printed works on education--whether general or dealing with specialized phases--no recurrent note amplifying this suggestion, except a few casual fugitive references in less than a dozen recent publications, and two treatises that recognize the importance of the subject with some fulness of treatment. Perhaps this sweeping characterization of stolid school-room self-sufficiency should be modified by crediting to Horace Mann a vision that scarcely survived his passing. A historian of educational influences informs us that in Mr. Mann's work for teachers two aspects are apparent--one dealing with preparation, the other with method. Through his labors normal schools became a component part of our school system, and institutes were started for the special training of teachers. Furthermore, he made apparent the value of libraries as school adjuncts, and brought about their establishment. And similarly in backwoods Wisconsin, three-quarters of a century ago, Lyman Draper sought to interest the teaching forces there. His report printed in the 50's--now rare and difficult to procure--is a grouping of opinions, prophetic but yet unrealized, expressed by eminent men of the day as foreshadowing a relationship of school and library. A careful examination of fifty average books on education issued since 1870 yields but scant encouragement to those who seek association of school and library. Six of the fifty writers give at least passing consideration to the subject. Two cyclopedias of education recognize the importance of the subject.[5] Forty-two books issued between the years mentioned, and about equally divided between the decades represented are wholly barren of such mention. On the other hand, two are notable for vital grasp and broad treatment--G. Stanley Hall's chapters in the second volume of his "_Educational Problems_," and Hugo Müsterberg's chapter in "_The Americans_." Significant of present-day conditions is the testimony of a teacher, who, addressing a library gathering, said:[6] "In days gone by we carried on the school without libraries--we could do this as well as not because education meant _learning by rote_; text-book learning alone. "This is, to my mind, the most important thing I have to say to you--we do not yet know you and our need for you. "In our school lives as children, in our normal training and later in our actual teaching we have not had you, and we do not yet realize your resources. "To get this matter before you definitely, pardon my using my own case as illustration. "From beginning to end of my common school education--from the first grade through eighth--I never saw a school or a public library. We had none, though I lived in a good-sized city in the Middle West. I learned what the text-book told me; no supplementary reading (or rarely), no pictures, no objects. My training in reading and literature consisted in learning to keep my toes on a crack and my voice from falling on a question mark! "In high school I had very little but the regular text. Again memory work was the test. I remember well a boy who was my ideal. He learned his geography word for word and so recited it. If he sneezed or a door slammed and his flow of words (I use words advisedly) was interrupted, he had to begin again. He was the show pupil in our class. "In college our instructors in science performed all the experiments for us while we looked on. When we went to the library we spoke to the librarian through a wire netting, and in our company manners asked for a book. "In the normal school which I attended there was a so-called children's library, but the books were all text-books, and we were not taught how to help the children to use them. We had literature, but it was all about Hamlet's being or not being mad; none of it was taught in a way to make it a tool for the elementary teacher. "After all this I began teaching, with no knowledge of the resources of a library as an aid to either teacher or child, and I felt no need for such aid. What is true of me is true of thousands of other teachers. "You must make us feel our need for you. You must, if you please, intrude yourselves upon our notice. Generations of teachers who have worshipped at the shrine of the text-book can in no other way be reached. "The ideals of education today are broader, our needs are greater, and you have the material to help us to realize our needs." In the relatively few instances where co-operation between school and library administration has led to installation of modern library equipment in elementary schools, the difficulties have been experienced which are usual when afterthought supplies what forethought neglects to include. Quarters are ordinarily unsuitable and insufficient. Adequate provision should be made when school buildings are planned, for library quarters that are ample as to size and strategic as to location, instead of depending for space upon a room or enlarged closet not otherwise utilized, for library placement. Perhaps it is too optimistic to hope for a change soon in the inconceivably stupid architecture and design of school buildings, despite a few recent striking examples to the contrary. As now financed, no public library system can undertake to administer a branch library in every grade school building within its jurisdiction. For school service on such a liberal scale there would be required in the city of New York at least $4,300,000 for equipment and at least $537,000 annually for current maintenance; in Chicago, $2,350,000 for initial equipment and $294,000 annually for maintenance; in other cities, correspondingly large expenditures. However, in most of the major cities of the United States, it is entirely feasible to make a reasonable beginning by introducing some features of the work not now attempted, or tried in such meagre fashion as to be useless and disheartening. As there are in many places traveling school libraries, so there may well be added traveling school librarians. It is imperative that for this service there must be sought a type of teacher-librarian capable by reason of natural ability and education to command the confidence of the teaching corps as a counselor, and of the student body as a friendly element in the school, disassociated from the thought of book use based on compulsion. A teacher-librarian so qualified could exert an important influence in shaping the future of the children. In his inimitable, whimsical fashion, Bernard Shaw brings out with sympathy and humor something of this spirit of compulsion which schools typify: "There is, on the whole, nothing on earth intended for innocent people so horrible as a school. To begin with, it is a prison. But it is in some respects more cruel than a prison. In a prison, for instance, you are not forced to read books written by the warders and the governor (who, of course, would not be warders and governors if they could write readable books), and are therefore beaten or otherwise tormented if you cannot remember their utterly unmemorable contents. In the prison you are not forced to sit listening to turnkeys discoursing without charm or interest on subjects that they don't understand and don't care about, and are therefore incapable of making you understand or care about. In a prison they may torture your body; but they do not torture your brains; and they protect you against violence and outrage from your fellow prisoners. In a school you have none of these advantages. With the world's book-shelves loaded with fascinating and inspired books--the very manna sent down from heaven to feed your souls--you are forced to read a hideous imposture called a school book, written by a man who cannot write; a book from which no human being can learn anything; a book which, though you may decipher it, you cannot in any fruitful sense read, though the enforced attempt will make you loathe the sight of a book all the rest of your life. It is a ghastly business, quite beyond words, this schooling." The late Professor Norton is credited[7] with the statement that a taste for literature is a result of cultivation more often than a gift of nature, and that the years of the elementary school seem to be the time in which the taste takes deepest root. Dr. Scott Nearing[8] points out that the old education presupposed an average child and then prepared a course of study which would fit his needs. The new education, he contends, recognizes the absurdity of averaging unlike quantities, and accepts the ultimate truth that each child is an individual, differing in needs, capacity, outlook, energy, and enthusiasm from every other child. An arithmetic average can be struck, but when it is applied to children it is a hypothetical and not a real quantity. There is not, and never will be, an average child; hence, a school system planned to meet the needs of the average child fits the needs of no child at all. Rightly directed, library influences in elementary schools would modify the machine-like formula giving to all children alike at the same time the same mental food to eat and the same moral garb to wear. As Dr. Bird T. Baldwin notes in his ingenious statement of the five ages of childhood, school children are inevitably different; even when children are born on the same day, the chances that they will grow physically, mentally and morally at exactly the same rate, and will make exactly the same progress in school, are remote indeed. A teacher-librarian having special aptitude for the post could render service of inestimable value to teachers as well as to their pupils, in becoming the active medium between public school and public library. By securing the right books from the library for home reading, by providing picture material and reference sources for class room use, by conducting story hours and reading clubs, by giving instruction in the use of the library and the keys that open books, by giving stimulus to the ambitions and capacities of individual pupils, by intimate co-operation with the work of vocational guidance, the librarian would prove her worth. Nor would the least useful function of the school libraries be that of an evening study place for those tens of thousands of children whose home conditions absolutely preclude thought of, or opportunity for, study out of school hours. It may be contended that these services are provided by branch libraries and their juvenile departments. What are the facts? Early in the present month twenty million boys and girls went more or less willingly to school. Our consolidated library statistics show that considerably less than one million of them use our public libraries. Despite our imposing figures of circulation, we reach but 5 per cent of the juvenile population. If there are urgent reasons for increased library effort in connection with grade schools, these apply with multiplied force as to high schools. Here, indeed, the deterrent factor of enormous and prohibitive cost would not obtain, because they are fewer in number; and in proportion to total cost of maintenance, the added percentage of cost would be comparatively small. There are in the United States 8,300 high schools with a four-year course, and 3,250 carrying a three-year course. In every one of the 11,500 high schools there should be a well-equipped and well-administered library. Preferably, those that are located in cities where there are strong public libraries should be conducted as branches of the local public library. Such management would assure better administration. School management would imperil in many instances the selection of librarians fitted for the task. Too often, as experience has demonstrated, the governing body would assign to the post derelict teachers unfitted by reason of age or physical handicap, and unfortunate deficiencies in other respects. On the other hand, public library authorities must recognize more tangibly than they do now that high school librarians must possess not only library training in the machinery of routine performance, but also university education, teaching experience, and qualifications of personality and temperament that will place them on a level with other members of the faculty. In the high schools we find the sifted grain of the elementary schools. It is there that the potential qualities of originality and genius which will later make their impress upon the course of industry and government must be quickened and given direction. More and more it is coming to be realized that to grasp without failure the complexities of modern life native intelligence no longer suffices. Intelligence must be sharpened by education and given power by experience. The self-made man who achieved success untaught, unlettered, and unaided save by his own efforts of hand and brain, has become a legendary hero. Appreciation of changed conditions may be found in the records of increased attendance in the high schools. That increase has been at a greater rate than that of the population. In 1890 there were but 59 pupils for every ten thousand inhabitants; in 1895 there were 79; in 1900 there were 95; in 1910 there were 100; and now the number is considerably in excess, statistics for 1914 showing 117. Thus, in twenty-five years, the percentage of high school attendance has nearly doubled. Again we find the school people without perception of the great value which a properly conducted library would bring to a high school. In his recently published book, "_The New Education_," Dr. Scott Nearing describes an up-to-date high school: "The modern high school," he says, "is housed in a building which contains, in addition to the regular classrooms, gymnasiums, a swimming tank, physics and chemical laboratories; cooking, sewing, and millinery rooms; woodworking, forge, and machine shops; drawing rooms; a music room; a room devoted to arts and crafts; and an assembly room. This arrangement of rooms presupposes Mr. Gilbert's plan of making the high school, like the community, an aggregation of every sort of people, doing every sort of work." When some of the foremost leaders in education leave out of a list of desiderata for the high school what the universities have come to regard as the very heart of the institution--the library--is there marvel that the love of literature is being strangled in the schools? Required reading of classics, and the use of literary masterpieces for classroom dissection has taken away the pure joy of reading and made the study of literature a mere literary autopsy. Here is the testimony of a teacher who places herself on the witness stand:[9] "Sometimes the high school course works as a sort of vaccination to prevent their taking literature seriously. "Most teachers of English have had at times the experience holding open a volume of Shakespeare with one hand, while with the other they waved some sort of scholastic rod over the head of a rebellious young modern. Though 'classics' are probably swallowed with less forcible feeding than grammar, spelling, and rhetoric, yet even those dilutable bits of literature that have been considered food for the gods of culture are gulped down wry-facedly by some barbarians. By judicious skimming and cramming they may perforce capture the irreducible minimum of scanty and fugitive facts about the masterpieces prescribed for their edification; but at the first safe moment they joyously forget them, and betake themselves to the cheaper theaters, the thrilling dailies, and the popular novelists. "The truth is that literature teachers are devoted champions of a lost cause. Some of the dead authors appear to be so irrevocably dead that no amount of artificial respiration can put any breath of life into their works so far as the ordinary high school student is concerned. "It would be enticingly easy to win over students to a course in journalism, modern magazines, and contemporary novels and dramas. "We cannot expect to overcome all the narrowing and even vulgarizing influences that surround many of our young people; but at least we should improve their judgment enough to make them reject the cheapest, shallowest, and most distorted contemporary writings." One chapter of Ernest Poole's story of "_The Harbor_" tells of his school experience. A passage from it is worth quoting: "What a desert of knowledge it was back there. Our placid tolerance of the profs included the books they gave us. The history prof gave us ten books of collateral reading. Each book, if we could pledge our honor as gentlemen that we had read it, counted us five in examination. On the night before the examination I happened to enter the room of one of our football giants, and found him surrounded by five freshmen, all of whom were reading aloud. One was reading a book on Russia, another the life of Frederick the Great, a third was patiently droning forth Napoleon's war on Europe, while over on the window-seat the other two were racing through volumes one and two of Carlyle's French Revolution. The room was a perfect babel of sound. But the big man sat and smoked his pipe, his honor safe and the morrow secure. In later years, whatever might happen across the sea would find this fellow fully prepared, a wise, intelligent judge of the world, with a college education." Into the atmosphere of the school must be introduced some element that will bring to the growing boys and girls a love of reading and a genuine desire for absorbing those vital forces of life which literature images. If we believe that the ultimate aim of education is that of the ultimate aim of life, there must be that attention to the individual need which in the end makes for the uplifting of all. To that end the means must be wrought. If the school must deal perforce with groups rather than with units, the methods of the library adapt themselves to the converse plan of individual treatment. If the school narrows the pathway by compulsion, the library gives the joy of freedom unrestricted. Therein lies its potency, and therein does it make appeal not to the few elect, but to the many. And herein lies its greater service. "Progress is The law of life, man is not man as yet, Nor shall I deem his object served, his end Attained, his genuine strength put fairly forth, While only here and there a star dispels The darkness, here and there a towering mind O'erlooks its prostrate fellows: when the host Is out at once to the despair of night, When all mankind alike is perfected, Equal in full-blown powers--then, not till then, I say, begins man's general infancy." Wherefore this emphasis upon the school side of library work? Not, of course, at the expense of the service which is furnished to young and old in relief from the drab dullness of life, but parallel with it, must the library labor. For here lies its mission of permanent influences, and at no time has there been greater need. Suddenly, the seemingly well-fortified pillars of civilization have crumbled. Confused, dismayed, disheartened, society witnesses rapid disintegration of foundations which centuries of patient endeavor have constructed. Science, thought to be the instrument of man's weal, has become the subtle and baleful agent of destruction. The racial hyphen, long looked upon as the symbol of cohesion, has become the sign of separation. The Christian nations of the earth are at each other's throats with a ferocity and malignity unparalleled. Under a flag which shelters ninety millions of individuals whose forebears peopled every land upon the habitable globe, and who seek to merge the best of their racial qualities in a common life that shall typify a new standard of civilization, must be wrought that miracle of human evolution which shall establish concord and good will between members of alien races dwelling together. To effect this it must be demonstrated that "assimilation is a matter of understanding and ideas, and not merely of manners and customs." And so, despite the gloomy murk that now envelops the world, we must realize the need of beginning the reconstruction of our demolished ideals. This is the day of readjustments. We must begin again, but we must begin at the point of beginning, with the plastic mind of youth. Happily, if not now, generations hence, the world may realize the poet's prophecy, and the hope it holds: "For no new sense puts forth in us but we Enter our fellow's lives thereby the more. And three great spirits with the spirit of man Go forth to do his bidding. One is free, And one is shackled, and the third, unbound, Halts yet a little with a broken chain Of antique workmanship, not wholly loosed, That dangles and impedes his forthright way. Unfettered, swift, hawk-eyed, implacable, The wonder-worker, Science, with his wand, Subdues an alien world to man's desires. And Art with wide imaginative wings Stands by, alert for flight, to bear his lord, Into the strange heart of that alien world Till he shall live in it as in himself And know its longing as he knows his own. Behind a little, where the shadows fall, Lingers Religion with deep-brooding eyes, Serene, impenetrable, transpicuous As the all-clear and all-mysterious sky, Biding her time to fuse into one act Those other twain, man's right hand and his left. For all the bonds shall be broken and rent in sunder, And the soul of man go free Forth with those three Into the lands of wonder; Like some undaunted youth, Afield in quest of truth, Rejoicing in the road he journeys on As much as in the hope of journey done. And the road runs east, and the road runs west, That his vagrant feet explore; And he knows no haste and he knows no rest, And every mile has a stranger zest Then the miles he trod before; And his heart leaps high in the nascent year When he sees the purple buds appear: For he knows, though the great black frost may blight The hope of May in a single night, That the spring, though it shrink back under the bark, But bides its time somewhere in the dark-- Though it come not now to its blossoming, By the thrill in his heart he knows the spring; _And the greater to-morrow is on its way_". It shall keep with its roses yet in June; And the promise it makes perchance too soon, _For the ages fret not over a day_. THE WORLD OF PRINT AND THE WORLD'S WORK[10] I Turning for a text to Victor Hugo's stirring epic of Paris, these words may be found in the section for May, and in the third chapter thereof: "A Library implies an act of faith Which generations still in darkness hid Sign in their night, in witness of the dawn." When Johann Gutenberg in his secret workshop poured the molten metal into the rough matrices he had cut for separate types, the instrument for the spread of democracy was created. When early Cavaliers and Puritans planted the crude beginnings of free public schools, the forces of democracy were multiplied. When half a century ago the first meager beginnings of the public library movement were evolved, democracy was for all time assured. Thus have three great stages, separated each by a span of two hundred years from that preceding, marked that world development whose ultimate meaning is not equality of station or possession, but equality of opportunity. Not without stress and strife have these yet fragmentary results been achieved. Not without travail and difficulties will universal acceptance be accorded in the days to come. But no one may doubt the final outcome which shall crown the struggle of the centuries. The world was old when typography was invented. Less than five centuries have passed since then, and in this interval--but a brief period in the long history of human endeavor--there has been more enlargement of opportunity for the average man and woman than in all the time that went before. Without the instrumentality of the printed page, without the reproductive processes that give to all the world in myriad tongues the thought of all the centuries, slavery, serfdom and feudalism would still shackle the millions not so fortunate as to be born to purple and ermine, and fine linen. II The evolution of the book is therefore the history of the unfoldment of human rights. The chained tome in its medieval prison cell has been supplanted by the handy volume freely sent from the hospitable public library to the homes of the common people. The humblest citizen, today, has at his command books in number and in kind which royal treasuries could not have purchased five hundred years ago. In the sixteenth century, it took a flock of sheep to furnish the vellum for one edition of a book, and the product was for the very few; in the twentieth, a forest is felled to supply the paper for an edition, and the output goes to many hundred thousand readers. As books have multiplied, learning has been more widely disseminated. As more people have become educated, the demand for books has increased enormously. The multiplication of books has stimulated the writing of them, and the inevitable result has been a deterioration of quality proportioned to the increase in quantity. In the English language alone, since 1880, 206,905 titles of books printed in the United States have been listed, and 226,365 in Great Britain since 1882. Of these 433,270 titles, 84,722 represent novels--36,607 issued in the United States and 48,115 in Great Britain. Despite the inclusion of the trivial and the unsound in this vast mass of printed stuff, no one can doubt the magnitude of the service performed in the advancement of human kind. The universities have felt the touch of popular demand, and in this country at least some of them have attempted to respond. Through correspondence courses, short courses, university week conferences, summer schools, local forums, traveling instructors, and other media of extension, many institutions of higher learning have given recognition to the appeal of the masses. Logically with this enlargement of educational opportunity, the amplification of library facilities has kept pace. The libraries have become in a real sense the laboratory of learning. Intended primarily as great storehouses for the accumulation and preservation rather than the use of manuscripts and books, their doors have been opened wide to all farers in search of truth or mental stimulus. In a report to the English King, Sir William Berkeley wrote as governor of Virginia in 1671: "I thank God there are no free schools nor printing, and I hope we shall not have them these hundred years; for learning has brought disobedience into the world, and printing has divulged them, and libels against the best government. God keep us from both." Governor Berkeley's sentiments, expressed by him in turgid rhetoric, were held in his day by most men in authority, but that did not prevent the planting of little schoolhouses here and there, and men of much vision and little property bequeathed their possessions for maintaining them. Many a school had its origin in a bequest comprising a few milch kine, a horse or two, or a crop of tobacco; in some instances, slaves. From such beginnings, with such endowments, was evolved three hundred years ago the public system of education which today prodigally promises, though it but niggardly realizes, sixteen years of schooling for every boy and girl in the land. If the span of years needed for the development of the free library system has been much shorter, the hostile attitude of influential men and the privations that attended pioneer efforts were no less marked. As recently as 1889 the writer of an article in the _North American Review_ labeled his attack: "Are public libraries public blessings?" and answered his own question in no uncertain negative. "Not only have the public libraries, as a whole, failed to reach their proper aim of giving the means of education to the people," he protested, "but they have gone aside from their true path to furnish amusement, and that in part of a pernicious character, chiefly to the young." And he added: "I might have mentioned other possible dangers, such as the power of the directors of any library to make it a propaganda of any delusive _ism_ or doctrine subversive of morality, society or government; but I prefer to rest my case here." And it was somewhat later than this that the pages of the _Century_ gave space to correspondence in opposition to the establishment of a public library system for the city of New York. These were but echoes of earlier antagonisms. III For the documentary material dealing with the beginnings of the public library movement, the searcher must delve within the thousand pages of a portly folio volume issued by the British government sixty years ago. If one possesses patience sufficient to read the immense mass of dry evidence compiled by a parliamentary commission and "presented to both houses of parliament by command of Her Majesty," some interesting facts in library history will be found. A young man of twenty-three, then an underling in the service of the British Museum, afterwards an eminent librarian, was one of the principal witnesses. Edward Edwards had the gift of vision. Half a century before public libraries became the people's universities, as they are today, his prophetic tongue gave utterance to what has since become the keynote of library aims and policies. Badgered by hostile inquisitors, ridiculed by press and politicians, he undeviatingly clung to his views, and he lived to see his prophecy realized. Great libraries there had been before his day; remarkable as a storehouse of knowledge in printed form was, and is in our own day, the institution with which he was associated. But in these rich reference collections intended for the student of research, the element of popular use was lacking. To have suggested the loan of a single book for use outside the four walls of the library would have startled and benumbed everyone in authority--and without authority--from the members of the governing board to librarian, sublibrarians, and messenger boys. This stripling faced the members of parliament, and without hesitation proclaimed his thesis. "It is not merely to open the library to persons who, from the engrossing nature of their engagements of business, are at present utterly excluded from it, but it is also that the library may be made a direct agent in some degree in the work of national education. Let not anyone be alarmed lest something very theoretical or very revolutionary should be proposed. I merely suggest that the library should be opened to a class of men quite shut out from it by its present regulations." Then he added: "In such a country as this, there should be one great national storehouse. But in addition to this, there should be libraries in different quarters on a humbler scale, very freely accessible." One of the ablest members of parliament, William Ewart, of Liverpool, became intensely interested in the views expressed by young Edwards, and from that day was counted the consistent champion of library privileges for the common people. Largely through his instrumentality, aided by such men as Richard Cobden, John Bright and Joseph Brotherton, parliament passed an act "for the encouragement of museums." Out of this measure grew the later Public Libraries Act. This notable step was not accomplished without bitter opposition. "The next thing we will be asked to do," said one indignant member on the floor of the House, "is to furnish people with quoits and peg-tops and footballs at the expense of taxpayers. Soon we will be thinking of introducing the performances of Punch for the amusement of the people." Events in England influenced similar movements in the United States. In a letter to Edward Everett, in 1851, Mr. George Ticknor gave the first impetus to the establishment of a free public library in Boston--the first in the new world to be maintained permanently by the people for the people. "I would establish a library which differs from all free libraries yet attempted," he wrote. "I mean one in which any popular books, tending to moral and intellectual improvement, shall be furnished in such numbers of copies that many persons can be reading the same book at the same time; in short, that not only the best books of all sorts, but the pleasant literature of the day, shall be made accessible to the whole people when they most care for it; that is, when it is new and fresh." Sixty years after the date of Mr. Ticknor's letter, and chiefly within the last two decades of the period, the public library movement has assumed a place in public education which, relatively, the public school movement attained only after three hundred years of effort. When Thomas Bodley died, in 1613, in all Europe there were but three libraries accessible to the public--the Bodleian, the Angelo Rocca at Rome and the Ambrosian at Milan. In 1841 the Penny Cyclopedia devoted about four inches of a narrow column to the subject of libraries, ancient and modern, and limited its reference to American libraries to one sentence, obtained at second hand from an older contemporary. "In the United States of America, according to the Encyclopedia Americana, the principal libraries are, or were in 1831, that of Harvard College, containing 36,000 volumes; the Philadelphia Library, containing 27,000; that of the Boston Athenaeum, containing 26,000; that of Congress, containing 16,000, and that of Charleston, containing 13,000." It is only since 1867 that the federal government has deemed it worth while to compile library statistics, and the first comprehensive figures were gathered in 1875. It is worth noting that then they embraced all libraries comprising 300 volumes, and that in 1893 no mention is made of collections containing less than a thousand volumes, while the most recent official enumeration makes 5,000 volumes the unit of consideration. From these official figures may be gleaned something of the extraordinary growth of libraries, both numerically and in size. In 1875, including school libraries, there were 2,039 containing a thousand volumes, ten years later there were 4,026, ten years after that 8,000, and at this date there are in this class not less than 12,000, while the recorded number comprising three hundred volumes or more reaches the substantial total of 15,634, and 2,298 of these catalog in excess of 5,000 volumes each. IV These figures show phenomenal growth, but even more impressive are the facts that give their full meaning in detail. From a striking compilation issued in Germany by Die Brücke a few weeks ago, together with figures extracted by means of a questionnaire, supplemented by statistical material gathered by the Bureau of Education, the facts which follow have been deduced: Counting the great libraries of the world, the six continents abutting the seven seas possess 324 libraries whose book collections number in excess of 100,000 volumes each, and of these 79--or approximately one-fourth--are located in the Americas. Of the 79 American libraries 72 are in the United States, including university, public, governmental and miscellaneous institutions, with a combined collection of 19,295,000 volumes. If this statistical inquiry is pursued further, a reason becomes apparent why millions are starved for want of books while other millions seemingly have a surfeit of them. The rural regions, save in a handful of commonwealths whose library commissions or state libraries actively administer traveling libraries, the book supply is practically negligible. Even the hundreds of itinerating libraries but meagerly meet the want. All the traveling libraries in all the United States have a total issue annually less than that of any one twenty municipal systems that can be named. The public library facilities in at least six thousand of the smaller towns are pitifully insufficient and in hundreds of them wholly absent. The movement to supply books to the people was first launched in the rural regions seventy years ago. Indeed, the movement for popular education known as the American Lyceum, which forecast the activities of the modern public library just as the mechanics' institutes of Great Britain prepared the soil for them in that country, flourished chiefly in the less thickly settled centers of population. The early district school libraries melted away in New York state and Wisconsin and other states, and the devastated shelves have never been amply renewed. The library commissions are valiantly and energetically endeavoring to supply the want, but their efforts are all too feebly supported by their respective states. In this particular, the policy is that which unfortunately obtains as to all educational effort. More than 55 per cent of the young people from 6 to 20 years old--about 17,000,000 of them--live in the country or in towns of less than two thousand inhabitants. According to an official report from which this statement is extracted, there are 5,000 country schools still taught in primitive log houses, uncomfortable, unsuitable, unventilated, unsanitary, illy equipped, poorly lighted, imperfectly heated--boys and girls in all stages of advancement receiving instruction from one teacher of very low grade. It is plain why, in the summing up of this report, "illiteracy in rural territory is twice as great as in urban territory, notwithstanding that thousands of illiterate immigrants are crowded in the great manufacturing and industrial centers. The illiteracy among native-born children of native parentage is more than three times as great as among native children of foreign parentage, largely on account of the lack of opportunities for education in rural America." In Indian legend Nokomis, the earth, symbolizes the strength of motherhood; it may yet chance that the classic myth of the hero who gained his strength because he kissed the earth may be fully understood in America only when the people learn that they will remain strong, as Mr. Münsterberg has put it, "only by returning with every generation to the soil." If the states have proved recreant to duty in this particular, the municipalities have shown an increasing conception of educational values. The figures make an imposing statistical array. In the United States there are 1,222 incorporated places of 5,000 or more inhabitants, and their libraries house 90,000,000 volumes, with a total yearly use aggregating 110,000,000 issues. Four million volumes a year are added to their shelves, and collectively they derive an income of $20,000,000. Their permanent endowments, which it must be regretfully said but 600 of them share, now aggregate $40,000,000. Nearly all of these libraries occupy buildings of their own, Mr. Andrew Carnegie having supplied approximately $42,226,338 for the purpose in the United States, and the balance of the $100,000,000 represented in buildings having been donated by local benefactors or raised by taxation. The population of these 1,222 places is 38,758,584, considerably less than half that of the entire United States. Their book possessions, on the other hand, are nine times as great as those in the rest of the country; the circulation of the books nearly twelve times in volume. Closer analysis of these figures enforces still more strongly the actual concentration of the available book supply. The hundred largest cities of the United States, varying in size from a minimum of 53,684 to a maximum of 4,766,883, possess in the aggregate more books than all the rest of the country together, and represent the bulk of the trained professional service rendered. The great majority of the 3,000 graduates whom the library schools have sent into service since the first class was organized in 1887, are in these libraries and in the university libraries. Forty per cent of the books circulated are issued to the dwellers in these one hundred cities, and in fifteen of them the stupendous total of 30,000,834 issues for home reading was recorded last year. Without such analysis as this, the statistical totals would be misleading. The concentration of resources and of trained service in large centers of population, comparatively few in number, makes evident the underlying cause for the modern trend of library development. A further study of conditions in these human hives justifies the specialized forms of service which have become a marked factor in library extension within a decade. With increased resources, with vastly improved internal machinery, with enlarged conception of opportunity for useful service, have come greater liberality of rules and ever widening circles of activity, until today no individual and no group of individuals, remains outside the radius of library influence. If this awakened zeal has spurred to efforts that seem outside the legitimate sphere of library work, no undue concern need be felt. Neither the genius and enthusiasm of the individual nor the enterprise of a group of individuals will ever be permitted to go too rapidly or too far: the world's natural conservatism and inherited unbelief stand ever ready to retard or prevent. V Specialization has been incorporated into library administration chiefly to give expeditious and thorough aid to seekers of information touching a wide variety of interests--business men, legislators, craftsmen, special investigators and students of every sort. This added duty has not diminished its initial function to make available the literature of all time, nor to satisfy those who go to books for the pure joy of reading. The recreative service of the library is as important as the educative, or the informative. For the great mass of people, the problem has been the problem of toil long and uninterrupted. The successful struggle of the unions to restrict the hours of labor has developed another problem almost as serious--the problem of leisure. Interwoven with this acute problem is another which subdivision of labor has introduced into modern industrial occupations--the terrible fatigue which results from a monotonous repetition of the same process hour after hour, day after day, week after week. Such blind concentration in the making of but one piece of a machine, or a garment, or a watch, or any other article of merchandise, without knowledge of its relationship to the rest, soon wears the human worker out. There must be an outlet of play, of fun, or recreation. The librarian need not feel apologetic to the public because perchance his circulation statistics show that 70 per cent of it is classed as fiction. If he wishes to reduce this percentage to 69 or 68 or 61, let him do it not by discouraging the reading of novels, but by stimulating the use of books in other classes of literature. But well does he merit his own sense of humiliation and the condemnation of the critics if he needs must feel ashamed of the kind of novels that he puts upon his shelves. To quote a fellow librarian who expresses admirably the value of such literature, "A good story has created many an oasis in many an otherwise arid life. Many-sidedness of interest makes for good morals, and millions of our fellows step through the pages of a story book into a broader world than their nature and their circumstances ever permit them to visit. If anything is to stay the narrowing and hardening process which specialization of learning, specialization of inquiry and of industry, and swift accumulation of wealth are setting up among us, it is a return to romance, poetry, imagination, fancy, and the general culture we are now taught to despise. Of all these the novel is a part; rather, in the novel are all of these. But a race may surely find springing up in itself a fresh love of romance, in the high sense of that word, which can keep it active, hopeful, ardent, progressive. Perhaps the novel is to be, in the next decades, part of the outward manifestation of a new birth of this love of breadth and happiness." VI Many of the factory workers are young men and young women, whose starved imaginations seek an outlet that will not be denied. In lieu of wholesome recreation and material, they will find "clues to life's perplexities" in salacious plays, in cheap vaudeville performances, in the suggestive pages of railway literature, in other ways that make for a lowering of moral tone. The reaction that craves amusement of any sort is manifest in the nightly crowded stalls of the cheap theaters. Eight million spectators view every moving picture film that is manufactured. It is estimated that one-sixth of the entire population of New York City and of Chicago attends the theaters on any Sunday of the year. One Sunday evening, at the instance of Miss Jane Addams, an investigation was made of 466 theaters in the latter city, and it was discovered that in the majority of them the leading theme was revenge; the lover following his rival; the outraged husband seeking his wife's betrayer; or the wiping out by death of a blot on a hitherto unstained honor. And of course these influences extend to the children who are always the most ardent and responsive of audiences. There is grave danger that the race will develop a ragtime disposition, a moving picture habit and a comic supplement mind. VII It is perhaps too early to point to the specialized attention which libraries have given to the needs of young people as a distinct contribution to society. Another generation must come before material evidence for good or ill becomes apparent. That the work is well worth the thought bestowed, whether present methods survive or are modified, may not be gainsaid. The derelicts of humanity are the wrecks who knew no guiding light. The reformatories and the workhouses, the penal institutions generally and the charitable ones principally, are not merely a burden upon society, but a reproach for duty unperformed. Society is at last beginning to realize that it is better to perfect machinery of production than to mend the imperfect product; that to dispense charity may ameliorate individual suffering, but does not prevent recurrence. And so more attention is being given prevention than cure. "I gave a beggar from my little store Of well-earned gold. He spent the shining ore And came again, and yet again, still cold And hungry as before. I gave a thought, and through that thought of mine, He found himself a man, supreme, divine, Bold, clothed, and crowned with blessings manifold, And now he begs no more." VIII If numbers and social and industrial importance warrant special library facilities for children, certainly the same reasons underlie the special library work with foreigners which has within recent years been carried on extensively in the larger cities. Last month the census bureau issued an abstract of startling import to those who view in the coming of vast numbers from across the waters a menace to the institutions of this democracy. According to this official enumeration, in but fourteen of fifty cities having over 100,000 inhabitants in 1910 did native whites of native parentage contribute as much as one-half the total population. The proportion exceeded three-fifths in only four cities. On the other hand, in twenty-two cities of this class, of which fifteen are in New England and the Middle Atlantic divisions, less than one-third of the population were native whites of native parentage, over two-thirds in all but one of these cities consisting of foreign-born whites and their children. In his Ode delivered at Harvard, Lowell eloquently referred to "The pith and marrow of a Nation Drawing force from all her men, Highest, humblest, weakest, all, For her time of need, and then Pulsing it again through them, She that lifts up the manhood of the poor, She of the open soul and open door, With room about her hearth for all mankind!" This was written in 1865. Since then the rim of the Mediterranean has sent its enormous contribution of unskilled and unlettered human beings to the New World. There have been three great tides of migration from overseas. The first came to secure liberty of conscience; the second sought liberty of political thought and action; the third came in quest of bread. And of the three, incomparably the greater problem of assimilation is that presented by the last comers. Inextricably interwoven are all the complexities which face the great and growing municipalities, politically and industrially and socially. These are the awful problems of congestion and festering slums, of corruption in public life, of the exploitation of womanhood, of terrible struggle with wretchedness and poverty. Rightly directed, the native qualities and strength of these peoples will bring a splendid contribution in the making of a virile citizenship. Wrongly shaped, their course in the life of the city may readily become of sinister import. Frequently they are misunderstood, and they easily misunderstand. The problem is one of education, but it is that most difficult problem, of education for grown-ups. Here perhaps the library may render the most distinct service, in that it can bring to them in their own tongues the ideals and the underlying principles of life and custom in their adopted country; and through their children, as they swarm into the children's rooms, is established a point of contact which no other agency could so effectually provide. Under the repressive measures of old-world governments, the racial culture and national spirit of Poles, Lithuanians, Finns, Balkan Slavs, and Russian Jews have been stunted. Here both are warmed into life and renewed vigor, and in generous measure are given back to the land of their adoption. Such racial contribution must prove of enormous value, whether, as many sociologists believe, this country is to prove a great melting pot for the fusing of many races, or whether as Dr. Zhitlowsky contends, there is to be one country, one set of laws, one speech, but a vast variety of national cultures, contributing each its due share to the enrichment of the common stock. IX Great changes have come about in the methods that obtain for the exercise of popular government. In a democracy whose chief strength is derived from an intelligent public opinion, the sharpening of such intelligence and enlargement of general knowledge concerning affairs of common concern are of paramount importance. Statute books are heavily cumbered with laws that are unenforced because public opinion goes counter to them. Nonenforcement breeds disrespect for law, and unscientific making of laws leads to their disregard. So the earliest attempts to find a remedy contemplated merely the legislator and the official, bringing together for their use through the combined services of trained economists and of expert reference librarians the principles and foundation for contemplated legislation and the data as to similar attempts elsewhere. Fruitful as this service has proved within the limitation of state and municipal officialdom, a broadened conception of possibilities now enlarges the scope of the work to include citizen organizations interested in the study of public questions, students of sociology, economics and political science, business men keenly alive to the intimate association--in a legitimate sense--of business and politics, and that new and powerful element in public affairs which has added three million voters to the poll lists in ten states, and will soon add eleven million voters more in the remaining thirty-eight. The new library service centering in state and municipal legislative reference libraries, and in civic departments of large public libraries, forecasts the era, now rapidly approaching, when aldermen and state representatives will still enact laws and state and city officials will enforce them, but their making will be determined strictly by public opinion. The local government of the future will be by quasi-public citizen organizations directing aldermen and state legislators accurately to register their will. When representative government becomes misrepresentative, in the words of a modern humorist, democracy will ask the Powers that Be whether they are the Powers that Ought to Be. To intelligently determine the answer, public opinion must not ignorantly ask. X This has been called the age of utilitarianism. Such it unquestionably is, but its practicality is not disassociated from idealism. The resources of numberless commercial enterprises are each in this day reckoned in millions, and their products are figured in terms of many millions more, as once thousands represented the spread of even the greatest of industries. But more and more business men are coming to realize that business organization as it affects for weal or woe thousands who contribute to their success, must be conducted as a trust for the common good, and not merely for selfish exploitation, or for oppression. As the trade guilds of old wielded their vast power for common ends, so all the workers gave the best at their command to make their articles of merchandise the most perfect that human skill and care could produce. Men of business whose executive skill determines the destinies of thousands in their employ, are growing more and more to an appreciation of the trusteeship that is theirs. A humane spirit is entering the relationship between employer and employed. Great commercial organizations are conducting elaborate investigations into conditions of housing, sanitation, prolongation of school life, social insurance and similar subjects of betterment for the toilers; but a brief span ago they were concerned chiefly with trade extension and lowering of wages, all unconcerned about the living conditions of their dependents. They too are now exemplifying the possession of that constructive imagination which builds large and beyond the present. For results that grow out of experience and of experiment they also are in part dependent upon the sifted facts that are found in print. The business house library is a recent development, and in ministering in different ways to both employer and employed, gives promise of widespread usefulness. XI With the tremendous recent growth of industrialism and the rapid multiplication of invention, the manifest need for making available the vast sum of gathered knowledge concerning the discoveries of modern science has evolved the great special libraries devoted to the varied subdivisions of the subject. Munificently endowed as many of them are, highly organized for ready access to material, administered to encourage use and to give expert aid as well, their great importance cannot be overestimated. What they accomplish is not wholly reducible to statistics, nor can their influence be readily traced, perhaps, to the great undertakings of today which overshadow the seven wonders of antiquity. But there can be no question that without the opportunities that here lie for study and research, and--no less important--without the skilled assistance freely rendered by librarian and bibliographer, special talent would often remain dormant and its possessor unsatisfied. Greater here would be the loss to society than to the individual. XII Thus the libraries are endeavoring to make themselves useful in every field of human enterprise or interest; with books of facts for the information they possess; with books of inspiration for the stimulus they give and the power they generate. Conjointly these yield the equipment which develops the constructive imagination, without which the world would seem but a sorry and a shriveled spot to dwell upon. The poet and the dreamer conceive the great things which are wrought; the scientist and the craftsman achieve them; the scholar and the artist interpret them. Thus associated, they make their finest contribution to the common life. The builders construct the great monuments of iron and of concrete which are the expression of this age, as the great cathedrals and abbeys were of generations that have passed. Adapted as they are to the needs of this day, our artists and our writers have shown us the beauty and the art which the modern handiwork of man possesses. With etcher's tool one man of keen insight has shown us the art that inheres in the lofty structures which line the great thoroughfares of our chief cities, the beauty of the skylines they trace with roof and pediment. With burning words another has given voice to machinery and to the vehicles of modern industry, and we thrill to the eloquence and glow of his poetic fervor. "Great works of art are useful works greatly done," declares Dr. T. J. Cobden-Sanderson, and, rightly viewed, the most prosaic achievements of this age, whether they be great canals or clusters of workmen's homes worthily built, or maybe more humble projects, have a greatness of meaning that carries with it the sense of beauty and of art. In medieval days, the heralds of civilization were the warrior, the missionary, the explorer and the troubadour; in modern times, civilization is carried forward by the chemist, the engineer, the captain of industry, and the interpreter of life--whether the medium utilized be pen or brush or voice. Without vision, civilization would wither and perish, and so it may well be that the printed page shall serve as symbol of its supreme vision. Within the compass of the book sincerely written, rightly chosen, and well used are contained the three chief elements which justify the library of the people--information, education, recreation. The urge of the world makes these demands; ours is the high privilege to respond. LIBRARY WORK WITH CHILDREN[11] It is amid conditions that call for heroic effort that the public library of today must do its work with children. There are not wanting critics who decry some present-day tendencies. They saw that when librarians seek the children in their homes to form groups of readers, they encroach upon the domain of the settlement worker. They complain that the story hour, now so widely developed, is an invasion of the kindergarten; they view with alarm the use of the stereo-scope and stereopticon as being outside the legitimate domain of the institution. Perhaps they are right, and perhaps they are wrong; maybe they are both right and wrong. If the purposes sought by these means were adequately ministered to from other sources, it may well be questioned whether the library would be justified in adopting these methods. In the admitted lack of agencies to meet these conditions, the children's librarian may find satisfaction in the results obtained, even if some folks' notions of legitimate library work are sadly jolted, as in the time to come they will certainly have to be modified. At best, the library and all allied agencies are struggling against tremendous odds in counteracting subtle influences for evil and open influences that breed coarseness and vulgarity. To operate a moving-picture show within the sacred precincts of a library may be counter to the accepted view of the fitness of things, but those who have visited the children's department of the Cincinnati Public Library will recall with a glow of pleasure the sight of the interested group of children awaiting each his turn at the machine to go on a tarry-at-home journey to Switzerland and France and other countries over-sea. Would the critics prefer to have the children glue their faces to the glass in the vulgar and suggestive shows of the penny arcade? The craving for novelty and amusement will not be denied. The instinct for dramatic action is inherent. It is said that there are 5,000 penny arcades and nickelodeons in New York City alone, with an average daily attendance of 300,000 children, and scarce a hamlet in all this wide country that does not foster one or two of them, a large proportion of them supplied with pictures of doubtful propriety. The average penny arcade is closely linked with the Sunday comic supplement and the yellow-backed pamphlet in the vulgarization and decadence that threatens to overwhelm the youth of the country. Parents who would be horrified to note in the hands of their children any specimen of dime novel literature, complacently turn over to them on Sunday morning the sheet splashed with daubs of red and yellow and green that serve to render attractive the accompanying pictures and their slangy explanations. The Sunday comic supplement has done more to debase and to brutalize what is fine in boys and girls, to debauch their sense of fairness, to blunt their ideas as to what is manly and fair, to deaden their respect for age and authority, to prevent such aesthetic sense as they may have had, than can be counteracted by all the attempts being made by school, church, museum and library to stimulate a taste for better things. There is no escape from these colored atrocities. Millions enter the households weekly, they are scattered broadcast in parks and on the streets, they are left upon the seats of railway trains and street cars--they are everywhere. Parental effort is powerless. In a few households they are ruthlessly barred, but the neighbors' children are willing to share without demur. In an address before the American Playgrounds Congress, recently held in New York City, Miss Maud Summers uttered a warning against this pernicious fostering of deceit, cunning, and disrespect for age. "The child of sensible parents will not see or know about them," Mr. Lindsay Swift wrote in a contribution to _The Printing Art_ two years ago, "but the child of the street, the child of the indifferent household, will warm to them like a cat to the back of the stove. There are certain negative results that parents have a right to expect from every educative force which is brought to bear on their children; that these children shall not be deliberately taught disrespect for old age or for physical infirmities and deformities; that they shall not learn to cherish contempt for other races or religions than their own; that they shall not take satisfaction in the tormenting of animals or weaklings--in short, that they shall not acquire an habitually cynical and unsportsmanlike attitude of mind. A morbid gloating over the deficiencies and humiliations of our neighbors is pretty sure to develop vulgarity and a lax moral fibre in ourselves; for vulgarity of mind and manners seems to me to be primarily a lack of restraint in thought, feeling, and expression regarding those tendencies which every civilized man and race is striving to modify or to conquer." Doubtless, when first this medium for purveying humor was devised, the tendencies now so apparent were minimized. There were, in some of the earlier attempts, real humor and some skill of pencil, but the pictures have degenerated until they cry aloud for suppression. There need be no apology for the story hour. A good story well told makes for pleasure, makes for morals, makes for intellectual growth. Most librarians defend it on the ground that the telling of the story leads to the reading of books on related topics. To my mind, no such defense or even explanation is needed. The story, if well chosen and fittingly told, justifies the teller and the tale. It is a moot question in educational circles whether the ear is a better medium for receiving impressions than is the eye. Some school-masters aver that there are ear-minded children and there are eye-minded children. A good story, well told, is worthy of being counted in the circulation statistics as many times as there are children to hear it, and far worthier to so figure than many a book that is taken out on a card and leaves as faint and as durable an impression on the reader's mind as footsteps on the shifting sand. And the more the storyteller can lead back the mind of childhood to the heart of childhood, the tales of wonder and of myth that grew to fulness when the race was young, the greater the service and the more fruitful in giving the listener something that will endure. Neither is there need for apology in the exploitation of home library groups. At best, these can but partially counteract the flood of cheap and decadent literature of the most depraved character that circulates secretly among boys and girls. In Buffalo, recently, the public library has found among the people of foreign birth a mass of material in circulation whose bad quality has surprised even the librarians. The home groups that are being formed in some of the larger cities find an opening wedge among people of foreign birth whose reading has been practically confined to stuff of this sort. The reports from Germany would hardly seem credible were they not vouched for by the Durer Union, whose campaign against the growing tendency to read trashy literature has unearthed these facts. In a statement issued by its secretary, the astounding declaration is made that 8,000 established booksellers and 30,000 peddlers were engaged in selling sensational serials and books containing complete tales of a very low order. No fewer than 750,000 of these wretched stories have been sold in the course of a single year. They are hawked from house to house, from factory to factory, outside schools, and among the peasants on every farm throughout the empire. The peddlers nearly always enter by the back door or the kitchen stairs. Servant girls and ignorant peasantry are the most fruitful customers, but it is asserted by municipal officials that even people who are in receipt of poor relief often deprive themselves of necessities in order to save two cents for a vile rehash of the sensationally embellished details of a notorious crime. The extent of the literature of the streets obtainable in this country is little appreciated. An investigation, instituted several years ago by the Library Commission of one of the Middle West states, demonstrated the existence of tons of it on the upper and back-row shelves of news stands in all the larger cities, and in many of the villages and hamlets as well. The desire to show a large circulation has made many librarians yield to the tyranny of statistics, and some errors of library administration are attributable to this cause. While it is undoubtedly true that the chief function of the library is to distribute as many wholesome books as possible, among the people, the totals of circulation are of vastly inferior importance to some facts that are not susceptible of being arranged in statistical uniform. And this is more particularly true of children's reading. It is less a question of how many books are read than what books are read and by whom they are read. It may well be urged that there is greater importance in the quality of the circulation than in the size of it--not how many, but how good, should be the earnest inquiry. It may well be doubted whether some children do not read more books than they can well assimilate. They are mentally profited about as much as their physical condition is nourished when they quaff quantities of soda water. They become troubled with mental dyspepsia. Another criticism that is pertinent applies to book selection. There are too many books written especially for children. There are more titles in the average collection of children's books than the librarian ought to purchase. There are too many books that are negative in quality--pleasantly enough flavored, not harmful in tone, authentic as to facts, but colorless. There are usually too few of the world's enduring books--classics--and too many editions edited especially for children. Some of the children's catalogues are of appalling size. Here there is abundant need of excision. Five hundred titles, judiciously chosen and plentifully duplicated, would meet the need of most libraries, and would immeasurably raise the standard of reading. Much might be ascertained by an analysis of the individual cards of juvenile patrons--a sort of laboratory experiment. There is need for greater co-operation between teachers and librarians. There are tendencies in teaching that are strangling rather than imparting the love of fine literature. It is no longer sufficient to give to the reader the music of lyric, the stir of epic--poetry must serve as an exercise in grammar. It is not sufficient that from virile prose the reader may obtain the glow of the writer's fancy or thought--it must do duty as a bit of sentence construction, or a companion piece to a lesson in geography or, perhaps, of history. We are told that poetry is dead. Who killed it? and how long would it take to do the like for prose? Whatever of criticism as to plan and method may be rightfully made against public library work with children, the earnestness that underlies it all will, in the end, serve to eliminate the real causes for such criticism. Its meaning will unfold as time goes on--the first children's room opened in a public library dates back not much more than a dozen years. In the almonry of Westminster, three and one-half centuries ago, William Caxton chose carefully for his printing press, with deep reverence in his heart for the white souls upon which his characters would be printed as surely as upon the white paper before him. And with that same thought and care will be sifted, in the work that is being carried on now, the printed page that helps to mould and build the character of the newer generations. TRAVELLING LIBRARIES[12] Following in the wake of the great public library movement, which in less than two decades has dotted the cities of the United States with buildings that house millions of books for the people, came systems of traveling libraries. The institutions which Jenkin Lloyd Jones satirically terms Carnegeries, provide city dwellers with an amplitude of reading material, but there was until a few years ago no provision for similarly meeting the greater needs of the isolated persons living remote from centers of population--in thousands of little hamlets, in mining and lumber camps, in uncounted farmhouses. Just fifteen years ago, Mr. Melvil Dewey, then state librarian of New York, ever foremost in progressive library work and originator of most of the far-reaching methods for making public libraries useful and efficient, solved the problem which had bothered many thinkers on the subject: How to give country people access to collections of books selected by experienced and educated buyers, and how to renew these collections so as to keep a fresh and plentiful supply on hand at all times. Mr. Dewey's solution of the problem was absurdly simple. Anybody could have thought it out without effort--but nobody else did. It was this: From a centrally administered library, groups of books carefully selected so as to comprise fifty or sixty volumes each, were packed into suitable boxes or cases, and sent to small villages, country schoolhouses, and centrally located farmhouses, to be distributed to the neighborhoods on the same plan as books are given out from branch stations in cities. At the end of six months, the books would be gathered by the custodian, shipped back to the central distributing agency, and a fresh lot would take their place. By this simple and economical method the people of these little neighborhoods would secure an opportunity to read the best and most interesting books without financial burden. "In the work of popular education," said Melvil Dewey pertinently, "it is, after all, not the few great libraries, but the thousand small that may do most for the people." In fifteen years, the first little chest of books that went upon its travels has multiplied to more than 5,000. Probably a third of a million books are now constantly "on the go" in this fashion. Figures are available for only twenty-two of the states, and according to these the circulation for the states enumerated was 600,443 books last year. It must be remembered that for a few years after the plan was transplanted from New York to other states, private contributions were the only reliance for maintaining the systems of traveling libraries. It is only within the last half dozen years that the demonstration of their usefulness prompted state legislatures to make appropriations for this purpose, to enable state library commissions to extend this great work on a liberal scale. The ease with which the traveling libraries may be adapted to meet various needs may be shown in a rapid summary compiled by Mr. F. A. Hutchins, who has been one of the leading promoters of them in this state. Some women in New Jersey have used them to lighten the long winter days and evenings of the brave men who belong to the life-saving service, and that state has now taken up the traveling library as a definite part of the work of its state library; other women, in Salt Lake City, send them regularly to remote valleys in Utah; a number of state federations of women's clubs use them to furnish books for study to isolated clubs; Mrs. Eugene B. Heard of Middleton, Ga., is devoting herself to the supervision of an admirable system which reaches a large number of small villages on the Seaboard Air Line in five southern states; an association in Washington, D. C., puts libraries on the canal-boats which ply on the Washington and Potomac Canal in the summer and "tie-up" in small hamlets in the Blue Ridge Mountains in the winter; the colored graduates of Hampton Institute carry libraries to the schools for their own people at the base of the Cumberland Mountains, while to the "mountain whites" libraries are sent by women's clubs in Kentucky, Tennessee, and Alabama. In Idaho, California, Nebraska, Kansas, Illinois, Missouri, Minnesota, and many other states, women's clubs are doing the same work for miners, lumbermen, farmers, and sailors. The people of British Columbia and New Zealand are successfully imitating their American cousins in this work. In Massachusetts, where nearly every community has its public library, the Woman's Educational Association is doing a most helpful work by using traveling libraries to strengthen the weak public libraries in the hill towns. Of all the states of the Union which reported on traveling libraries last year, Wisconsin stood first with a circulation of 122,093. Wisconsin was the third state to adopt this method for bringing wholesome books to people in the country. This was in 1895. The Free Library Commission has charge of 563 of these little libraries, which are sent to stations scattered all over the state and are exchanged every six months. Each group contains books of history, travel, fiction, biography, useful arts, and miscellaneous literature so proportioned as to meet the needs of the average community as determined by experience. The Wisconsin Commission also sends to communities where there are many persons of foreign birth, the best literature in their own tongues. In some sections of the state, people go ten to twenty miles at regular intervals to secure these books. The Commission also makes up study libraries for the use of clubs engaged in serious study. The topics deal with English literature, art, history, village and town improvement, questions of the day, etc. II Fifteen years ago there existed within the fifty-six thousand square miles of Wisconsin a mere handful of starveling public libraries, and only in three or four of the larger cities were these institutions properly housed. Most of them existed from force of habit rather than from action. But one library in the state employed trained service. There were no traveling libraries. The school district libraries had scarcely made a beginning, so that even that source failed to supply wholesome books for the use of the people. Here and there a volunteer fire department gathered a bundle of books, or a literary society would secure a similar collection from the attics of its members. Naturally, such efforts resulted in dismal failures. Ninety per cent of the population was absolutely without public library facilities. But fifteen years ago, and now! Scattered all over the state, in cities and villages and hamlets, are to be found modern, up-to-date public libraries in charge of alert, trained, interested librarians, eager and active in extending the radius of their influence or helpful in every way to promote the interests of the community and of every individual in it. There are now 152 public libraries in Wisconsin. Sixty-one of them occupy buildings erected especially for them, and 28 others have quarters in city halls or other public buildings. Many of them have a children's department, with trained library workers in charge of the specialized activities there conducted. In the larger buildings, lecture halls are an adjunct, where it is possible to provide university extension and similar lectures, and where women's study clubs, young men's debating societies and similar groups of persons find hospitable meeting places for carrying on their work. Work with schools is carried on to an extent, and to a profitable degree, little imagined as possible in the early days of the library extension movement. Free access to shelves is now permitted in every library of the state except one. There are now some forty librarians in Wisconsin who come from library training schools, and of the other librarians and assistants employed, approximately 100 have attended the summer school conducted by the Wisconsin Free Library Commission. The growing importance of the relation between library and school is evidenced by the fact that library instruction is now part of the course in every one of the seven normal schools, and a professional school for training librarians, with a staff of picked instructors, is maintained at Madison by the state. The candidates for admission are selected by competitive examination, and with special regard to suitability for the work by reason of temperament, education, address and experience. III Naturally, the activity of the public library movement in recent years, with consequent multiplication of institutions, has attracted the attention of thoughtful men and enlisted the cordial aid of public-spirited individuals. Philanthropists have found therein an avenue for their benefactions yielding undoubted results. Many wealthy men, instead of rearing to their own honor shafts of stone or images in bronze, have taken the wiser and happier method of securing an enduring monument in the form of a public library. There are now living a number of wealthy men who have provided in their wills for suitable bequests whereby buildings of this character may be erected in the places which they make their home, and similarly others have provided endowments for their home libraries to come out of their estates. Thus does one good deed suggest another. IV The work of the Free Library Commission may be briefly summarized as follows: _Supervision._ Works for the establishment of public libraries in localities able to support them. Visits libraries for the purpose of giving advice and instruction. Collects and publishes statistics of libraries for the guidance and information of trustees. Prints a bi-monthly bulletin, news notes and suggestions to keep librarians and trustees informed in regard to library progress throughout the state. Gives advice and assistance in planning library buildings and collects material on this subject for the use of library boards. _Instruction._ Aids in organizing new libraries. Assists in reorganizing old libraries according to modern methods which insure the best results and greatest efficiency of the library. Conducts a school for library training for the purpose of improving the service in small libraries. Holds institutes for librarians to instruct those who cannot attend summer school. _Traveling Libraries._ Maintains a system of traveling libraries which furnishes books to rural communities and villages too small to support local libraries, and to larger villages and towns as an inducement to establish free public libraries. Aids in organization and administration of county traveling library systems. _Clearing House._ Operates a clearing house for magazines to build up reference collections of bound periodicals in the public libraries of the state. _Document Department._ Maintains a document department for the use of state officers, members of the legislature and others interested in the growth and development of affairs in the state, and catalogues and exchanges state documents for the benefit of public libraries. _Book Lists._ Distributes a suggestive list of books for small libraries to insure purchase of the books in the best editions. Issues frequent buying lists of current books to aid committees in securing the best investment of book funds. Compiles buying lists on special subjects or for special libraries upon request. V It must not be supposed, because the great library growth has been manifested in the last decade, that there were wanting prior to that period interested men and women hopeful and active to give impulse for like conditions. Away back in 1840, when Wisconsin was a frontier territory ambitious to advance to statehood, the council and assembly enacted a law to encourage subscription libraries. A public library supported by taxation was not then dreamed of, for there was then none in the entire United States, nor for ten years thereafter. It is interesting to note that in these territorial days, the little hamlet of log houses known as Madison enjoyed the advantages of a library open to all who cared to use it. It was the private library of the governor, James Duane Doty, which he threw open to the public. Col. Geo. W. Bird, in his account of it, says that it contained about five hundred volumes of a general historical, educational and literary character and a number of the best maps known at that time. It was housed in the governor's private office, which was a small one-story frame building of one room situated among the trees in the little backwoods town. The books were arranged in low shelving around the sides of the room, and the scanty furniture, consisting of a small desk, a deal-board table, three or four chairs, a pine bench, and a register in which to enter the taking and returning of books, completed the equipment. Over the shelving on the westerly side of the room, was this direction, painted in black on a white field: "Take, Read and Return." There were only two regulations as to the use of the library and they were displayed conspicuously in red ink about the room, and they were as follows: 1. Any white resident between the lakes, the Catfish and the westerly hills, his wife and children, may have the privileges of this library so long as they do not soil or injure the books, and properly return them. 2. Any such resident, his wife or children, may take from the library one book at a time and retain it not to exceed two weeks, and then return it, and on failure to return promptly, he or she shall be considered, and published, as an outcast in the community. "I do not remember of there ever having been occasion for inflicting this penalty. I do remember my father sending me one day when the time-limit of a book was about to expire, with a note to a family, requiring the return of a book that day, and calling attention pointedly to the above penalty of failure; and I remember how concerned the mother was, and how quickly she got the book and dragging me along after her, speedily returned it to the library, and thus escaped the sentence of outlawry," concludes Col. Bird. VI What is known far and wide as the Maxon bookmark originated in Wisconsin, and was the conception of the Rev. Mr. Maxon, then resident in Dunn County. It has been reprinted on little slips in hundreds of forms, has circulated in every state and territory in the country, and doubtless a full million copies of it have been slipped between the leaves of children's books. It may fittingly be reproduced here: "Once on a time" A Library Book was overheard talking to a little boy who had just borrowed it. The words seemed worth recording and here they are: "Please don't handle me with dirty hands. I should feel ashamed to be seen when the next little boy borrowed me. Or leave me out in the rain. Books can catch cold as well as children. Or make marks on me with your pen or pencil. It would spoil my looks. Or lean on me with your elbows when you are reading me. It hurts. Or open me and lay me face down on the table. You would not like to be treated so. Or put in between my leaves a pencil or anything thicker than a single sheet of thin paper. It would strain my back. Whenever you are through reading me, if you are afraid of losing your place, don't turn down the corner of one of my leaves, but have a neat little Book Mark to put in where you stopped, and then close me and lay me down on my side so that I can have a good comfortable rest." ADMINISTRATION OF LIBRARY FUNDS[13] Just a few words on a matter of business addressed to business men--for that, I conceive, is what mayors and aldermen primarily are, whether engaged in trade or in professions. I am aware that it is more popular to term them politicians in the worst meaning of that abused word, and to ascribe improper motives to their official actions, but personal relations with many of them through a long series of years convinces me that a very large majority of them are men of probity and good intentions, seeking to perform a public duty to the extent of their abilities. They are sure of clamorous condemnation for any errors of commission or omission, and very uncertain of commendation for conscientious attention to official duties. Lest these remarks may be construed as undue flattery prompted by the presence here of so many municipal officers, it may be added that the average alderman is inclined to be at times a bit self-opinionated in his views of public business, or impatient with that phase of it which he does not directly control. At least this is so until his term is nearing its end. Unfortunately, the broader and wider outlook which experience always brings to men usually develops too late, except in cases of re-election, for service during his own period of administration, and cannot be transmitted to his successor. And that is why, rather than because of downright dishonesty, our city public works are frequently defectively constructed, money is needlessly expended for certain purposes, and not expended at all, or insufficiently expended for others, where it would bring best results. A municipality ought to be a business corporation purely, managed on business principles by its board of trustees (aldermen) and for the benefit of the stockholders (taxpayers and citizens). Like any other business institution, its management should carefully consider its resources and apportion expenditures to secure largest returns on investment. And in the case of a municipality, the returns from investments embrace both the material comforts and necessities of community life which are represented in sanitation, facilities for transportation, for lighting and for adequate water supply, and the intellectual requirements of modern life which find their expression in good public schools and well-administered libraries. And this brings us to a consideration of the question immediately before us--the administration of public library funds. Some years ago a discussion of this question might have required a preliminary apologetic justification for the existence of such an institution as a public library. The necessity for that sort of thing has happily passed, just as the need for explanation in the reasonable expenditure of public funds for public schools is no longer existent. Nevertheless, the general conception of the possibilities of usefulness in public library work remains imperfectly developed. It will require time and patient effort to secure full recognition of the potent possibilities for the good of all the people that may be realized through the public library adequately maintained and properly administered. And herein lies the crux of the question. That anecdote which Souther told of himself will bear repetition. Meeting an old woman one stormy day, he resorted to the usual topic of greeting: "Dreadful weather, isn't it?" he remarked. This was quite obvious, of course, but the old woman's rejoinder was rather philosophical. "_Any_ weather is better than none," quoth she. This philosophic way of viewing a discouraging condition is, I fear, but too true with reference to the average public library. But _any_ library is not necessarily better than none. The average municipality is quite likely to rest satisfied with prevailing conditions. If municipalities were, like other business corporations, subjected to the test of competition, many of them would be in the hands of the sheriff. No business man can survive today who does not utilize modern progressive methods. The successful business man today is he who adopts the principle that no results can be secured without certain outlays. No farmer would conceive it prudent to economize in the planting of his seed. If he did, scanty crops would convince him of the error of his methods. And yet it is this error which many cities and towns commit. They may possess libraries, but they grudgingly allow them revenues just sufficient to keep them from starvation. In Wisconsin we have a goodly percentage of public libraries that are in every way creditable, but it is too true that there are also many which fail to realize their full possibilities. In order that the maximum dividend on the investment may be realized, it is essential that a library's resources should permit: 1. The employment of competent trained service. 2. The purchase of books and magazines at frequent intervals to keep the library from going to seed. 3. Such regulations that the doors of the institution shall be open at least as often and as long every week as they are allowed to remain closed. To effect these desiderata, the library boards should be given sufficient funds, with due regard to economy of administration. It is coming to be recognized that a librarian is expected to do more than hand out books over a counter and take them in again--that the up-to-date librarian must study the social, commercial and intellectual interests of the community so as to make the library a vital force by providing the facilities for expansion of these interests. The public schools educate the average person during an average period representing five years of his life; the public library should afford facilities to persons of every age and in every condition of life for continuing one's education indefinitely. The public officer desirous of ascertaining the best methods for paving streets, the housewife in search of receipts for the most wholesome dishes for her table, the mechanic seeking to better his condition by studying the latest improvements in his craft, the foreign-born reader anxious for literature bearing on the duties of citizenship, the young man engaged in serious study of current questions--these and every other man, woman or child in quest of information, should have the facilities offered in the public libraries to secure it fully, not only by personal search along the shelves, but through the ready, helpful and suggestive assistance of a librarian trained to find in a multitude of print the essential facts which are wanted. Individual cases could be cited by the score to demonstrate what a public library can do for the people of its community. One that came to my attention recently may be mentioned. A boy who gave promise of no virtues and many vices engendered by idleness, was the despair of his parents and the annoyance of the neighbors. By chance he wandered into the reference room of the library in his town, carelessly picked up a book dealing with inventions, became interested, came again, asked for and received more books on the same topic and studied them with increasing interest. From that day he became a changed boy. He had found a purpose in life. Today, through his own efforts, he is taking the engineering course in a college, he has secured a patent from the government for a valuable invention, and he gives promise of becoming a leader in his chosen profession. In a certain city of this state which need not be designated by name, there are large manufacturing interests. There is a public library magnificently housed, but until lately without an appropriation for keeping the book purchases up-to-date. Workmen were eager to get books on electricity, on general mechanics and useful arts effecting their daily labor, but there were no funds with which to purchase them; naturally, they soon ceased their visits to the library. When the Free Library Commission called the attention of the heads of these great industrial enterprises to the condition of affairs, they immediately saw the advantage of adequately supporting the library. It did not take them long to figure out that no cheaper method could be devised for improving the product of their establishments and to create an interest among their workmen that would make for greater industry, better workmanship and consequently increased profits. On their part the workmen were quick to see their own advantage in increased wages in proportion to increase in skill and output. As an economic proposition the net result is greater stability in the industrial life of the community--decreased labor troubles and increased confidence between employer and employed. A sociologist who made a systematic study of a group of villages largely populated by workingmen, reported that the one which showed greatest evidence of prosperity, cleanliness and attractiveness of homes generally, was one conspicuous by reason of its well-managed public library. There is no channel of human usefulness which appeals so forcefully to the modern spirit of philanthropy as the public library. This generosity would, I doubt not, be greatly multiplied were there any assurance that the communities to be benefited would properly maintain the institution given to it. Purely as a matter of business, it pays to support a library decently. But deeper than this lies the motive that should actuate any city or town to erect within its midst an institution that must stand as the exponent of its intellectual and to some extent its social life. "The problem before us," said Lowell many years ago, "is to make a whole of many discordant parts, our many foreign elements; and I know of no way in which this can better be done than by providing a common system of education, and a common door of access to the best books by which that education may be continued, broadened and made fruitful." These words are as true today as when they were uttered. FOOTNOTES: [1] Address delivered on behalf League of Library Commissions, Asheville Conference A. L. A., May 27, 1907. [2] George Eliot, "Middlemarch." [3] Read before the New York Library Association at Haines Falls, Sept. 28, 1915. [4] Painter. History of Education. [5] One devotes thereto a column and a half of 1736 columns in the volume, and the other devotes 37 columns to the subject of the 1480 columns contained in one of the five volumes of the work. [6] _Library Journal._ [7] Lowe. Literature for Children. [8] Nearing, Scott. The New Education. [9] Hodgson, Elizabeth. The Adolescent's Prejudice Against the Classics. _English Journal_, Sept., 1915. [10] President's address at Kaaterskill Conference, American Library Association, June, 1913. [11] Extracts from a paper in the _Educational Bi-monthly_, April, 1910, entitled, "The Chicago Public Library and Co-operation with the Schools." [12] Extracts from booklet, "_Books for the People_," 1908. [13] _The Municipality_, Dec., 1905. Transcriber's Notes: Some spelling has been normalized. Variations in hyphenation and accentuation were maintained. Italicized words and phrases are presented by surrounding the text with underscores. The signature of J. Christian Bay who wrote the Preface is in all capitals. In original book and in html version it is in small capitals. 
17624	----	A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL Antiquarian AND PICTURESQUE TOUR. PRINTED BY WILLIAM NICOL, AT THE Shakspeare Press [Illustration: FILLE DE CHAMBRE, NUREMBERG] A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL, Antiquarian AND PICTURESQUE TOUR IN FRANCE AND GERMANY. BY THE REVEREND THOMAS FROGNALL DIBDIN, D.D. MEMBER OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY AT ROUEN, AND OF THE ACADEMY OF UTRECHT. SECOND EDITION. VOLUME III. [Illustration: Logo] DEI OMNIA PLENA. LONDON: PUBLISHED BY ROBERT JENNINGS, AND JOHN MAJOR. 1829. CONTENTS OF VOLUME III. CONTENTS VOLUME III. LETTER I. Strasbourg to Stuttgart. Baden. The Elder Schweighæuser. STUTTGART. The Public Library. The Royal Library, 1 LETTER II. The Royal Palace. A Bibliographical Negotiation. Dannecker the Sculptor. Environs of Stuttgart, 43 LETTER III. Departure from Stuttgart. ULM. AUGSBOURG. The Picture Gallery at Augsbourg, 55 LETTER IV. AUGSBOURG. Civil and Ecclesiastical Architecture. Population. Trade. The Public Library, 91 LETTER V. MUNICH. Churches. Royal Palace. Picture Gallery. The Public Library, 105 LETTER VI. Further Book-Acquisitions. Society. The Arts, 149 LETTER VII. Freysing. Landshut. Altöting. Salzburg. The Monastery of St. Peter, 169 LETTER VIII. Salzburg to Chremsminster. The Lake Gmunden. The Monastery of Chremsminster. Lintz, 206 LETTER IX. The Monasteries of St. Florian, Mölk, and Göttwic, 232 LETTER X. VIENNA. Imperial Library. Illuminated MSS. and early printed Books, 279 LETTER XI. Population. Streets and Fountains. Churches. Convents. Palaces. Theatres. The Prater. The Emperor's Private Library. Collection of Duke Albert. Suburbs. Monastery of Closterneuburg. Departure from Vienna, 335 SUPPLEMENT. Ratisbon, Nuremberg, Manheim, 407 LETTER I. STRASBOURG TO STUTTGART. BADEN. THE ELDER SCHWEIGHÆUSER. STUTTGART. THE PUBLIC LIBRARY. THE ROYAL LIBRARY. _Stuttgart, Poste Royale, August 4, 1818._ Within forty-eight hours of the conclusion of my last, I had passed the broad and rapidly-flowing Rhine. Having taken leave of all my hospitable acquaintances at Strasbourg, I left the _Hôtel de l'Esprit_ between five and six in the afternoon--when the heat of the day had a little subsided--with a pair of large, sleek, post horses; one of which was bestrode by the postilion, in the red and yellow livery of the duchy of Baden. Our first halting place, to change horses, was _Kehl_; but we had not travelled a league on this side of the Rhine, ere we discovered a palpable difference in the general appearance of the country. There was more pasture-land. The houses were differently constructed, and were more generally surrounded by tall trees. Our horses carried us somewhat fleetly along a good, broad, and well-conditioned road. Nothing particularly arrested our attention till we reached _Bischoffsheim, à la haute monté_; where the general use of the German language soon taught us the value of our laquais; who, from henceforth, will be often called by his baptismal name of Charles. At Bischoffsheim, while fresh horses were being put to, I went to look at the church; an humble edifice--but rather picturesquely situated. In my way thither I passed, with surprise, a great number of _Jews_ of both sexes; loitering in all directions. I learnt that this place was the prescribed _limits_ of their peregrinations; and that they were not suffered, by law, to travel beyond it: but whether this law restricted them from entering Suabia, or Bavaria, I could not learn. I approached the church, and with the aid of a good-natured verger, who happened luckily to speak French, I was conducted all over the interior--which was sufficiently neat. But the object of my peculiar astonishment was, that Jews, Protestants, and Catholics, all flocked alike, and frequently, at the SAME TIME, to exercise their particular forms of worship within this church!--a circumstance, almost partaking of the felicity of an Utopian commonwealth. I observed, indeed, a small crucifix upon the altar, which confirmed me in the belief that the Lutheran worship, according to the form of the Augsbourg confession, was practised here; and the verger told me there was no other place of worship in the village. His information might be deceitful or erroneous; but it is to the honour of his character that I add, that, on offering him a half florin for his trouble in shewing me the church, he seemed to think it a point of conscience _not_ to receive it. His refusal was mild but firm--and he concluded by saying, gently repelling the hand which held the money, "jamais, jamais!" Is it thus, thought I to myself, that "they order things in" Germany? The sun had set, and the night was coming on apace, after we left _Bischoffsheim_, and turned from the high road on the left, leading to Rastadt to take the right, for _Baden_. For the advantage of a nearer cut, we again turned to the right--and passed through a forest of about a league in length. It was now quite dark and late: and if robbers were abroad, this surely was the hour and the place for a successful attack upon defenceless travellers. The postboy struck a light, to enjoy the comfort of his pipe, which he quickly put to his mouth, and of which the light and scent were equally cheering and pleasant. We were so completely hemmed in by trees, that their branches brushed strongly in our faces, as we rolled swiftly along. Every thing was enveloped in silence and darkness: but the age of banditti, as well as of chivalry--at least in Germany--appears to be "gone." We sallied forth from the wood unmolested; gained again the high road; and after discerning some lights at a distance, which our valet told us (to our great joy) were the lights of BADEN, we ascended and descended--till, at midnight, we entered the town. On passing a bridge, upon which I discerned a whole-length statue of _St. Francis_, (with the infant Christ in his arms) we stopped, to the right, at the principal hotel, of which I have forgotten the name; but of which, one Monsieur or Le Baron Cotta, a bookseller of this town, is said to be the proprietor. The servants were yet stirring: but the hotel was so crowded that it was impossible to receive us. We pushed on quickly to another, of which I have also forgotten the name--and found the principal street almost entirely filled by the carriages of visitors. Here again we were told there was no room for us. Had it not been for our valet, we must have slept in the open street; but he recollected a third inn, whither we went immediately, and to our joy found just accommodation sufficient. We saw the carriage safely put into the remise, and retired to rest. The next morning, upon looking out of window, every thing seemed to be faëry land. I had scarcely ever before viewed so beautiful a spot. I found the town of Baden perfectly surrounded by six or seven lofty, fir-clad hills, of tapering forms, and of luxuriant verdure. Thus, although compared with such an encircling belt of hills, Baden may be said to lie in a hollow--it is nevertheless, of itself, upon elevated ground; commanding views of lawns, intersected by gravel walks; of temples, rustic benches, and detached buildings of a variety of description. Every thing, in short, bespeaks nature improved by art; and every thing announced that I was in a place frequented by the rich, the fashionable, and the gay. I was not long in finding out the learned and venerable SCHWEIGHÆUSER, who had retired here, for a few weeks, for the benefit of the waters--which flow from _hot_ springs, and which are said to perform wonders. Rheumatism, debility, ague, and I know not what disorders, receive their respective and certain cures from bathing in these tepid waters. I found the Professor in a lodging house, attached to the second hotel which we had visited on our arrival. I sent up my name, with a letter of introduction which I had received from his Son. I was made most welcome. In this celebrated Greek scholar, and editor of some of the most difficult ancient Greek authors, I beheld a figure advanced in years--somewhere about seventy-five--tall, slim, but upright, and firm upon his legs: with a thin, and at first view, severe countenance--but, when animated by conversation, and accompanied by a clear and melodious voice, agreeable, and inviting to discourse. The Professor was accompanied by one of his daughters; strongly resembling her brother, who had shewn me so much kindness at Strasbourg. She told me her father was fast recovering strength; and the old gentleman, as well as his daughter, strongly invited us to dinner; an invitation which we were compelled to decline. On leaving, I walked nearly all over the town, and its immediate environs: but my first object was the CHURCH, upon the top of the hill; from which the earliest (_Protestant_) congregation were about to depart--not before I arrived in time to hear some excellently good vocal and instrumental music, from the front seat of a transverse gallery. There was much in this church which had an English air about it: but my attention was chiefly directed to some bronze monuments towards the eastern extremity, near the altar; and fenced off, if I remember rightly, by some rails from the nave and side aisles. Of these monuments, the earliest is that of _Frederick, Bishop of Treves_. He died in 1517, in his 59th year. The figure of him is recumbent: with a mitre on his head, and a quilted mail for his apron. The body is also protected, in parts, with plate armour. He wears a ring upon each of the first three fingers of his right hand. It is an admirable piece of workmanship: bold, sharp, correct, and striking in all its parts. Near this episcopal monument is another, also of bronze, of a more imposing character; namely, of _Leopold William Margrave or Duke of Baden_, who died in 1671, and of the _Duchess_, his wife. The figure of Leopold, evidently a striking portrait, is large, heavy, and ungracious; but that of his wife makes ample amends--for a more beautifully expressive and interesting bronze figure, has surely never been reared upon a monumental pedestal. She is kneeling, and her hands are closed--in the act of prayer. The head is gently turned aside, as well as inclined: the mouth is very beautiful, and has an uncommon sweetness of expression: the hair, behind, is singular but not inelegant. The following is a part of the inscription: "_Vivit post funera virtus. Numinis hinc pietas conjugis inde trahit_." I would give half a dozen ducats out of the supplemental supply of Madame Francs to have a fine and faithful copy of this very graceful and interesting monumental figure. As I left the church, the second (_Catholic_) congregation was entering for divine worship. Meanwhile the heavens were "black with clouds;" the morning till eleven o'clock, having been insufferably hot and a tremendous thunder storm--which threatened to deluge the whole place with rain--moved, in slow and sullen majesty, quite round and round the town, without producing any other effect than that of a few sharp flashes, and growling peals, at a distance. But the darkened and flitting shadows upon the fir trees, on the hills, during the slow wheeling of the threatening storm, had a magnificently picturesque appearance. The walks, lawns, and rustic benches about Baden, are singularly pretty and convenient. Here was a play-house; there, a temple; yonder, a tavern, whither the _Badenois_ resorted to enjoy their Sunday dinner. One of these taverns was unusually large and convenient. I entered, as a stranger, to look around me: and was instantly struck by the notes of the deepest-toned bass voice I had ever heard--accompanied by some rapidly executed passages upon the harp. These ceased--and the softer strains of a young female voice succeeded. Yonder was a _master singer_[1]--as I deemed him--somewhat stooping from age; with white hairs, but with a countenance strongly characteristic of intellectual energy of _some_ kind. He was sitting in a chair. By the side of him stood the young female, about fourteen, from whose voice the strains, just heard, had proceeded. They sang alternately, and afterwards together: the man holding down his head as he struck the chords of his harp with a bold and vigorous hand. I learnt that they were uncle and niece. I shall not readily forget the effect of these figures, or of the songs which they sang; especially the sonorous notes of the mastersinger, or minstrel. He had a voice of most extraordinary compass. I quickly perceived that I was now in the land of music; but the guests seemed to be better pleased with their food than with the songs of this old bard, for he had scarcely received a half florin since I noticed him. Professor Schweighæuser came to visit me at the appointed hour of six, in order to have an evening stroll together to a convent, about two miles off, which is considered to be the fashionable evening walk and ride of the place. I shall long have reason to remember this walk; as well from the instructive discourse of my venerable and deeply learned guide, as from the beauty of the scenery and variety of the company. As the heat of the day subsided, the company quitted their tables in great crowds. The mall was full. Here was Eugene Beauharnois, drawn in a carriage by four black steeds, with traces of an unusual length between the leaders and wheel horses. A grand Duke was parading to the right: to the left, a Marchioness was laughing _à pleine gorge_. Here walked a Count, and there rode a General. Bavarians, Austrians, French, and English--intermixed with the tradesmen of Baden, and the rustics of the adjacent country--all, glittering in their gayest sabbath-attires, mingled in the throng, and appeared to vie with each other in gaiety and loudness of talk. We gained a more private walk, within a long avenue of trees; where a small fountain, playing in the midst of a grove of elm and beech, attracted the attention both of the Professor and ourselves. "It is here," observed the former--"where I love to come and read your favourite Thomson." He then mentioned Pope, and quoted some verses from the opening of his Essay on Man--and also declared his particular attachment to Young and Akenside. "But our Shakspeare and Milton, Sir--what think you of these?" "They are doubtless very great and superior to either: but if I were to say that I understood them as well, I should say what would be an untruth: and nothing is more disgusting than an affectation of knowing what you have, comparatively, very little knowledge of." We continued our route towards the convent, at a pretty brisk pace; with great surprise, on my part, at the firm and rapid movements of the Professor. Having reached the convent, we entered, and were admitted within the chapel. The nuns had just retired; but we were shewn the partition of wood which screens them most effectually from the inquisitive eyes of the rest of the congregation. We crossed a shallow, but rapidly running brook, over which was only one plank, of the ordinary width, to supply the place of a bridge. The venerable Professor led the way--tripping along so lightly, and yet so surely, as to excite our wonder. We then mounted the hill on the opposite side of the convent; where there are spiral, and neatly trimmed, gravel walks, which afford the means of an easy and pleasant ascent--but not altogether free from a few sharp and steep turnings. From the summit of this hill, the Professor bade me look around, and view a valley which was the pride of the neighbourhood, and which was considered to have no superior in Suabia. It was certainly very beautiful--luxuriant in pasture and woodland scenery, and surrounded by hills crowned with interminable firs. As we descended, the clock of the convent struck eight, which was succeeded by the tolling of the convent bell. After a day of oppressive heat, with a lowering atmosphere threatening instant tempest, it was equally, grateful and refreshing to witness a calm blue sky, chequered by light fleecy clouds, which, as they seemed to be scarcely impelled along by the evening breeze, were fringed in succession by the hues of a golden sun-set. The darkening shadows of the trees added to the generally striking effect of the scene. As we neared the town, I perceived several of the common people, apparently female rustics, walking in couples, or in threes, with their arms round each others necks, joining in some of the popular airs of their country. The off-hand and dextrous manner in which they managed the _second parts_, surprised and delighted me exceedingly. I expressed my gratification to Mr. Schweighæuser, who only smiled at my wondering simplicity. "If _these_ delight you so much, what would you say to our _professors_?"--observed he. "Possibly, I might not like them quite so well," replied I. The professor pardoned such apparent heresy; and we continued to approach the town. We were thirsty from our walk, and wished to enter the tea gardens to partake of refreshment. Our guide became here both our interpreter and best friend; for he insisted upon treating us. We retired into a bocage, and partook of one of the most delicious bottles of white wine which I ever remember to have tasted. He was urgent for a second bottle; but I told him we were very sober Englishmen. In our way home, the discourse fell upon literature, and I was anxious to obtain from our venerable companion an account of his early studies, and partialities for the texts of such Greek authors as he had edited. He told me that he was first put upon collations of Greek MSS. by our _Dr. Musgrave_, for his edition of _Euripides_; and that he dated, from that circumstance, his first and early love of classical research. This attachment had increased upon him as he became older--had "grown with his growth, and strengthened with his strength"--and had induced him to grapple with the unsettled, and in parts difficult, texts of _Appian_, _Epictetus_, and _Athenæus_. He spoke with a modest confidence of his _Herodotus_--just published: said that he was even then meditating a _second_ Latin version of it: and observed that, for the more perfect execution of the one now before the public, he had prepared himself by a diligent perusal of the texts of the purer Latin historians. We had now entered the town, and it was with regret that I was compelled to break off such interesting conversation. In spite of the lateness of the hour (ten o'clock) and the darkness of the evening, the worthy old Grecian would not suffer me to accompany him home--although the route to his house was devious, and in part precipitously steep, and the Professor's sight was not remarkably good. When we parted, it was agreed that I should breakfast with him on the morrow, at eight o'clock, as we intended to quit Baden at nine. The next morning, I was true to the hour. The Professor's coffee, bread, butter, and eggs were excellent. Having requested our valet to settle every thing at the inn, and bring the carriage and horses to the door of M. Schweighæuser by nine o'clock, I took a hearty leave of our amiable and venerable host, accompanied with mutual regrets at the shortness of the visit--and with a resolution to cultivate an acquaintance so heartily began. As we got into the carriage, I held up his portrait which Mr. Lewis had taken,[2] and told him "he would be neither out of _sight_ nor out of _mind_" He smiled graciously--waved his right hand from the balcony upon which he stood--and by half-past nine we found the town of Baden in our rear. I must say that I never left a place, which had so many attractions, with keener regret, and a more fixed determination to revisit it. That "revisit" may possibly never arise; but I recommend all English travellers to spend a week, at the least, at Baden--called emphatically, _Baden-Baden_. The young may be gratified by the endless amusements of society, in many of its most polished forms. The old may be delighted by the contemplation of nature in one of her most picturesque aspects, as well as invigorated by the waters which gush in boiling streams from her rocky soil. I shall not detain you a minute upon the road from Baden to this place; although we were nearly twenty-four hours so detained. _Rastadt_ and _Karlsruhe_ are the only towns worth mentioning in the route. The former is chiefly distinguished for its huge and tasteless castle or palace--a sort of Versailles in miniature; and the latter is singularly pleasing to an Englishman's eye, from the trim and neat appearance of the houses, walks, and streets; which latter have the footpaths almost approaching to our pavement. You enter and quit the town through an avenue of lofty and large stemmed poplars, at least a mile long. The effect, although formal, is pleasing. They were the loftiest poplars which I had ever beheld. The churches, public buildings, gardens, and streets (of which _latter_ the principal is a mile long) have all an air of tidiness and comfort; although the very sight of them is sufficient to freeze the blood of an antiquary. There is nothing, apparently, more than ninety-nine years old! We dined at Karlsruhe, and slept at _Schweiberdingen_, one stage on this side of Stuttgart: but for two or three stages preceding Stuttgart, we were absolutely astonished at the multitude of apple-trees, laden, even to the breaking down of the branches, with goodly fruit, just beginning to ripen: and therefore glittering in alternate hues of red and yellow--all along the road-side as well as in private gardens. The vine too was equally fruitful, and equally promising of an abundant harvest. There was a drizzling rain when we entered THIS TOWN. We passed the long range of royal stables to the right, and the royal palace to the left; the latter, with the exception of a preposterously large gilt crown placed upon the central part of a gilt cushion, in every respect worthy of a royal residence. On, driving to the hotel of the _Roi d'Angleterre_, we found every room and every bed occupied; and were advised to go to the place from whence I now address you. But the _Roman Emperor_ is considered to be more fashionable: that is to say, the charges are more extravagant. Another time, however, I will visit neither the one nor the other; but take up my quarters at the _King of Wirtemberg_--the neatest, cleanliest, and most comfortable hotel in Stuttgart. In _this_ house there is too much noise and bustle for a traveller whose nerves are liable to be affected. As a whole, Stuttgart is a thoroughly dull place. Its immediate environs are composed of vine-covered hills, which, at this season of the year, have an extremely picturesque appearance; but, in winter, when nothing but a fallow-like looking earth is visible, the effect must be very dreary. This town is large, and the streets--especially the _Könings-strasse,_ or King-Street,--are broad and generally well paved. The population may be about twenty-two thousand. He who looks for antiquities, will be cruelly disappointed; with the exception of the _Hôtel de Ville_, which is placed near a church, and more particularly of a _Crucifix_--there is little or nothing to satisfy the hungry cravings of a thorough-bred English Antiquary. The latter is of stone, of a rough grain, and sombre tint: and the figures are of the size of life. They are partly mutilated; especially the right leg of our Saviour, and the nose of St. John. Yet you will not fail to distinguish, particularly from the folds of the drapery, that precise character of art which marked the productions both of the chisel and of the pencil in the first half of the sixteenth century. The Christ is, throughout, even including the drapery, finely marked; and the attitude of the Virgin, in looking up, has great expression. She embraces intensely the foot of the cross; while her eyes and very soul seem to be as intensely rivetted to her suffering and expiring Son. I was not long in introducing myself to M. LE BRET, the head Librarian; for the purpose of gaining admission to the PUBLIC LIBRARY. That gentleman and myself have not only met, but met frequently and cordially. Each interview only increased the desire for a repetition of it: and the worthy and well-informed Head Librarian has partaken of a trout and veal dinner with me, and shared in one bottle of _Fremder Wein_, and in another of _Ordinärer Wein_.[3] We have, in short, become quite sociable; and I will begin by affirming, that, a more thoroughly competent, active, and honourable officer, for the situation which he occupies, his Majesty the King of Würtemberg does not possess in any nook, corner, or portion of his Suabian dominions. I will prove what I say at the point of--my pen. Yet more extraordinary intelligence. A "deed of note" has been performed; and to make the mystery more mysterious, you are to know that I have paid my respects to the King, at his late levee; the first which has taken place since the accouchement of the Queen.[4] And what should be the _object_ of this courtly visit? Truly, nothing more or less than to agitate a question respecting the possession of _two old editions of Virgil_, printed in the year 1471. But let me be methodical. When I parted from Lord Spencer on this "Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour," I was reminded by his Lordship of the second edition of the _Virgil_ printed at Rome by _Sweynheym_ and _Pannartz_, and of another edition, _printed by Adam_, in 1471, both being in the public library of this place:--but, rather with a desire, than any seriously-grounded hope, on his part of possessing them. Now, when we were running down upon _Nancy_--as described in a recent despatch,[5] I said to Mr. Lewis, on obtaining a view of what I supposed might be the Vosges, that, "behind the Vosges was the _Rhine_, and on the other side of the Rhine was _Stuttgart!_ and it was at Stuttgart that I should play my first trump-card in the bibliographical pack which I carried about me." But all this seemed mystery, or methodised madness, to my companion. However, I always bore his Lordship's words in mind--and something as constantly told me that I should gain possession of these long sought after treasures: but in fair and honourable combat: such as beseemeth a true bibliographical Knight. Having proposed to visit the public library on the morrow--and to renew the visit as often and as long as I pleased--I found, on my arrival, the worthy Head Librarian, seriously occupied in a careful estimate of the value of the Virgils in question--and holding up _Brunet's Manuel du Libraire_ in his right hand--"Tenez, mon ami," exclaimed he, "vous voyez que la seconde édition de Virgile, imprimée par vos amis Sweynheym et Pannartz, est encore plus rare que la premiére." I replied that "c'étoit la fantasie seule de l'auteur." However, he expressed himself ready to receive preliminaries, which would be submitted to the Minister of the Interior, and by him--to the King; for that the library was the exclusive property of his Majesty. It was agreed, in the first instance, that the amount of the pecuniary value of the two books should be given in modern books of our own country; and I must do M. Le Bret the justice to say, that, having agreed upon the probable pecuniary worth, he submitted a list of books, to be received in exchange, which did equal honour to his liberality and judgment. I have said something about the _local_ of this Public Library, and of its being situated in the market-place.[6] This market-place, or square, is in the centre of the town; and it is the only part, in the immediate vicinity of which the antiquarian's eye is cheered by a sight of the architecture of the sixteenth century. It is in this immediate vicinity, that the _Hôtel de Ville_ is situated; a building, full of curious and interesting relics of sculpture in wood and stone. Just before it, is a fountain of black marble, where the women come to fetch water, and the cattle to drink. Walking in a straight line with the front of the public library (which is at right angles with the Hôtel de Ville) you gain the best view of this Hotel, in conjunction with the open space, or market place, and of the churches in the distance. About this spot, Mr. Lewis fixed himself, with his pencil and paper in hand, and produced a drawing from which I select the following felicitous portion. [Illustration: Drawing] But to return to the Public Library. You are to know therefore, that The Public Library of Stuttgart contains, in the whole, about 130,000 volumes. Of these, there are not fewer than 8200 volumes relating to the _Sacred Text_: exclusively of duplicates. This library has been indeed long celebrated for its immense collection of _Bibles_. The late King of Würtemberg, but more particularly his father, was chiefly instrumental to this extraordinary collection:--and yet, of the very earlier Latin impressions, they want the _Mazarine_, or the _Editio Princeps_; and the third volume of _Pfister's_ edition. Indeed the first volume of their copy of the latter wants a leaf or two of prefatory matter. They have two copies of the first _German Bible_, by _Mentelin_[7]--of which _one_ should be disposed of, for the sake of contributing to the purchase of the earliest edition of the Latin series. Each copy is in the original binding; but they boast of having a _complete series of German Bibles_ before the time of Luther; and of Luther's earliest impression of 1524, printed by Peypus, they have a fine copy UPON VELLUM, like that in the Althorp Library; but I think taller. Of Fust's Bible of 1462, there is but an indifferent and cropt copy, upon paper; but of the _Polish Bible_ of 1563, there is a very fine one, in the first oaken binding. Of _English Bibles_, there is no edition before that of 1541, of which the copy happens to be imperfect. They have a good large copy, in the original binding, of the _Sclavonian Bible_ of 1581. Yet let me not dismiss this series of earlier Bibles, printed in different languages, without noticing the copies of _Italian versions_ of August and October 1471. Of the August impression, there is unluckily only the second volume; but such _another_ second volume will not probably be found in any public or private library in Europe. It is just as if it had come fresh from the press of _Vindelin de Spira_, its printer. Some of the capital letters are illuminated in the sweetest manner possible. The leaves are white, unstained, and crackling; and the binding is of wood. Of the _October_ impression, the copy is unequal: that is to say, the first volume is cruelly cut, but the second is fine and tall. It is in blue morocco binding. I must however add, in this biblical department, that they possess a copy of our _Walton's Polyglott_ with the _original dedication_ to King Charles II.; of the extreme rarity of which M. Le Bret was ignorant.[8] I now come to the CLASSICS. Of course the _two Virgils_ of 1471 were the first objects of my examination. The _Roman_ edition was badly bound in red morocco; that of _Adam_ was in its original binding of wood. When I opened the _latter_, it was impossible to conceal my gratification. I turned to M. Le Bret, and then to the book--and to the Head Librarian, and to the book--again and again! "How now, Mons. Le Bibliographe?" (exclaimed the professor--for M. Le Bret is a Professor of belles-lettres), "I observe that you are perfectly enchanted with what is before you?" There was no denying the truth of the remark--and I could plainly discern that the worthy Head Librarian was secretly enjoying the attestations of my transport. "The more I look at these two volumes (replied I, very leisurely and gravely,) the more I am persuaded that they will become the property of Earl Spencer." M. Le Bret laughed aloud at the strangeness of this reply. I proceeded to take a particular account of them.[9] Here is an imperfect copy of an edition of _Terence_, by _Reisinger_, in folio; having only 130 leaves, and twenty-two lines in a full page.[10] It is the first copy of this edition which I ever saw; and I am much deceived if it be exceeded by any edition of the same author in rarity: and when I say this, I am not unmindful of the Editio Princeps of it by _Mentelin_--which happens _not_ to be here. There is, however, a beautifully white copy of this latter printer's Editio Princeps of _Valerius Maximus_; but not so tall as the largest of the two copies of this same edition which I saw at Strasbourg. Of the _Offices of Cicero_, of 1466, there is rather a fine tall copy (within a quarter of an inch of ten inches high) UPON VELLUM; in the original wooden binding. The first two or three leaves have undergone a little martyrdom, by being scribbled upon. Of J. de Spira's edition of the _Epistles of Cicero_, of 1469--having the colophon on the recto of the last leaf--here is a fine, broad-margined copy, which however ought to be cleansed from the stains which disfigure it. I was grieved to see so indifferent a copy of the Edit. Prin. of _Tacitus_: but rejoiced at beholding so large and beautiful a one (in its original wooden binding) of the _Lucan_ of 1475, with the Commentary of Omnibonus; printed as I conceive, by _I. de Colonia and M. de Gherretzem_.[11] But I had nearly forgotten to acquaint you with a remarkably fine, thick-leaved, crackling copy--yet perhaps somewhat cropt--of Cardinal _Bessarion's Epistles_, printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz at Rome in 1469. It is in old gilt edges, in a sort of binding of wood. I now come to the notice of a few choice and rare _Italian books_: and first, for _Dante_. Here is probably the rarest of all the earlier editions of this poet: that is to say, the edition printed at Naples by Tuppo, in two columns, having forty-two lines in a full column. At the end of the _Inferno_, we read "Gloria in excelsis Deo," in the gothic letter; the text being uniformly roman. At the end of the _Purgatorio_: SOLI DEO GLORIA. Erubescat Judeus Infelir. At the end of the _Paradiso_: DEO GRATIAS--followed by Tuppo's address to Honofrius Carazolus of Naples. A register is on the recto of the following and last leaf. This copy is large, but in a dreadfully loose, shattered, and dingy state--in the original wooden binding. So precious an edition should be instantly rebound. Here is the Dante of 1478, with the _Commentary of Guido Terzago, printed at Milan in_ 1478, folio. The text of the poet is in a fine, round, and legible roman type--that of the commentator, in a small and disagreeable gothic character. _Petrarch_ shall follow. The rarest edition of him, which I have been able to put my hand upon, is that printed at Bologna in 1476 with the commentary of Franciscus Philelphus. Each sonnet is followed by its particular comment. The type is a small roman, not very unlike the smallest of Ulric Han, or Reisinger's usual type, and a full page-contains forty-one lines. Of _Boccaccio_, here is nothing which I could observe particularly worthy of description, save the very rare edition of the _Nimphale_ of 1477, printed by _Bruno Valla of Piedmont_, and _Thomaso of Alexandria._ A full page has thirty-two lines. I shall conclude the account of the rarer books, which it was my chance to examine in the Public Library of Stuttgart, with what ought perhaps, more correctly, to have formed the earliest articles in this partial catalogue:--I mean, the _Block Books_. Here is a remarkably beautiful, and uncoloured copy of the first Latin edition of the _Speculum Humanæ Salvationis_. It _has_ been bound--although it be now unbound, and has been unmercifully cut. As far as I can trust to my memory, the impressions of the cuts in this copy are sharper and clearer than any which I have seen. Of the _Apocalypse_, there is a copy of the second edition, wanting a leaf. It is sound and clean, but coloured and cut. Unbound, but formerly bound. Here is a late German edition of the _Ars Moriendi_, having thirty-four lines on the first page. Of the _Historia Beatæ Virginis_, here is a copy of what I should consider to be the second Latin edition; precisely like a German edition of the _Biblia Pauperum_, with the express date of 1470,--which is also here. The similarity is in the style of art and character of the type, which latter has much of a _Bamberg_ cast about it. But of the _Latin Biblia Pauperum_ here is a copy of the first edition, very imperfect, and in wretched condition. And thus much, or rather thus little, for _Block Books._ A word or two now for the MANUSCRIPTS--which, indeed, according to the order usually observed in these Letters, should have preceded the description of the printed books. I will begin with a _Psalter,_ in small folio, which I should have almost the hardihood to pronounce of the _tenth_--but certainly of the early part of the _eleventh_--century. The text is executed in lower-case roman letters, large and round. It abounds with illuminations, of about two inches in height, and six in length--running horizontally, and embedded as it were in the text. The figures are, therefore, necessarily small. Most of these illuminations, have a greenish back-ground. The armour is generally in the Roman fashion: the helmets being of a low conical form, and the shields having a large knob in the centre. Next comes an _Evangelistarium_ "seculo undecimo aut circà annum 1100:--pertinuit ad Monasterium Gengensbachense in Germania, ut legitur in margine primi folii." The preceding memorandum is written at the beginning of the volume, but the inscription to which it alludes has been partly destroyed--owing to the tools of a modern book-binder. The scription of this old MS. is in a thick, lower case, roman letter. The illuminations are interesting: especially that of the Scribe, at the beginning, who is represented in a white and delicately ornamented gown, or roquelaure, with gold, red, and blue borders, and a broad black border at bottom. The robe should seem to be a monastic garment: but the figure is probably that of St. Jerom. It is standing before an opened book. The head is shaved at top; an azure glory is round the head. The back-ground of the whole is gold, with an arabesque border. I wish I could have spared time to make a facsimile of it. There are also figures of the four Evangelists, in the usual style of art of this period; the whole in fine preservation. The capital initials are capricious, but tasteful. We observe birds, beasts, dragons, &c. coiled up in a variety of whimsical forms. The L. at the beginning of the "Liber Generationis," is, as usual in highly executed works of art of this period, peculiarly elaborate and striking. A _Psalter_, of probably a century later, next claims our attention. It is a small folio, executed in a large, bold, gothic character. The illuminations are entirely confined to the capital initials, which represent some very grotesque, and yet picturesque grouping of animals and human figures--all in a state of perfect preservation. The gold back-grounds are not much raised, but of a beautiful lustre. It is apparently imperfect at the end. The _binding_ merits distinct notice. In the centre of one of the outside covers, is a figure of the Almighty, sitting; in that of the other, are the Virgin and Infant Christ, also sitting. Each subject is an illumination of the time of those in the volume itself; and each is surrounded by pencil-coloured ornaments, divided into squares, by pieces of tin, or lead soldered. A sheet of _horn_ is placed over the whole of the exterior cover, to protect it from injury. This binding is uncommon, but I should apprehend it to be not earlier than the very commencement of the xvth century. I have not yet travelled out of the twelfth century; and mean to give you some account of rather a splendid and precious MS. entitled _Vitæ Sanctorum_--supposed to be of the same period. It is said to have been executed under the auspices of the _Emperor Conrad,_ who was chosen in 1169 and died in 1193. It is an elegant folio volume. The illuminations are in outline; in red, brown, or blue--firmly and truly touched, with very fanciful inventions in the forms of the capital letters. The initial letter prefixed to the account of the _Assumption of the Virgin_, is abundantly clever and whimsical; while that prefixed to the Life of _St. Aurelius_ has even an imposing air of magnificence, and is the most important in the volume. Here is a curious _History of the Bible, in German verse_, as I learn, by Rudolph, Count of Hohen Embs. Whether "curious" or not, I cannot tell; but I can affirm that, since opening the famous MS. of the Roman d'Alexandre,[12] at Oxford, I have not met with a finer, or more genuine MS. than the present. It is a noble folio volume; highly, although in many places coarsely, adorned. The text is executed in a square, stiff, German letter, in double columns; and the work was written (as M. Le Bret informed me, and as warranted by the contents) "in obedience to the orders of the Emperor Conrad, son of the Emperor Frederick II: the greater part of it being composed after the chronicle of Geoffrey de Viterbe." To specify the illuminations would be an endless task. At the end of the MS. are the following colophonic verses: _Uf den fridag was sts Brictius Do nam diz buch ende alsus Nach godis geburten dusint jar Dar su ccc dni vnx achtzig als eyn har_. the "_ccc_" are interlined, in red ink: but the whole inscription implies that the book was finished in 1381, on Friday, the day of St. Brictius. It follows therefore that it could not have been written during the life-time of Conrad IV. who was elected Emperor in 1250. This interesting MS. is in a most desirable condition. There are two or three _Missals_ deserving only of brief notice. One, of the XIVth century, is executed in large gothic letter; having an exceedingly vivid and fresh illumination of a crucifixion, but in bad taste, opposite the well-known passage of "Te igitur clementissime," &c. It is bound in red satin. Two missals of the xvth century--of which one presents only a few interesting prints connected with art. It is ornamented in a sort of bistre outline, preparatory to colouring--of which numerous examples may be seen in the Breviary of the Duke of Bedford in the Royal Library at Paris.[13] I examined half a dozen more Missals, which the kind activity of M. Le Bret had placed before me, and among them found nothing deserving of particular observation,--except a thick, short, octavo volume, in the German language, with characteristic and rather clever embellishments; especially in the borders. There is a folio volume entitled "_La Vie, Mort, et Miracles de St. Jerome_." The first large illumination, which is prettily composed, is unluckily much injured in some parts. It represents the author kneeling, with his cap in his right hand, and a book bound in black, with gold clasps and knobs, in the other. A lady appears to receive this presentation-volume very graciously; but unfortunately her countenance is obliterated. Two female attendants are behind her: the whole, gracefully composed. I take this MS. to be of the end of the xvth. century. There is a most desirable MS. of the _Roman de la Rose_--of the end of the xivth century; in double columns; with some of the illuminations, about two inches square, very sweet and interesting. That, on the recto of folio xiiij, is quite charming. The "testament" of the author, J. de Meun, follows; quietly decorated, within flowered borders. The last illumination but one, of our Saviour, sitting upon a rainbow is very singular. This MS. is in its old binding of wood. A few _miscellaneous articles_ may be here briefly noticed. First: a German metrical version of the Game of Chess, moralized, called _Der Schachzabel._ This is an extraordinary, and highly illuminated MS. upon paper; written in a sort of secretary gothic hand, in short rhyming verse, as I conceive about the year 1400, or 1450. The embellishments are large and droll, and in several of them we distinguish that thick, and shining, but cracked coat of paint which is upon the old print of St. Bridget, in Lord Spencer's collection.[14] Among the more striking illuminations is the _Knight_ on horseback, in silver armour, about nine inches high--a fine showy fellow! His horse has silver plates over his head. Many of the pieces in the game are represented in a highly interesting manner, and the whole is invaluable to the antiquary. This MS. is in boards. Second: a German version of _Maundeville_, of the date of 1471, with curious, large, and grotesque illuminations, of the coarsest execution. It is written in double columns, in a secretary gothic hand, upon paper. The heads of the Polypheme tribe are ludicrously horrible. Third:--_Herren Duke of Brunswick_, or the _Chevalier au Lion_,--a MS. relating to this hero, of the date of 1470. A lion accompanies him every where. Among the embellishments, there is a good one of this animal leaping upon a tomb and licking it--as containing the mortal remains of his master. Fourth: a series of German stanzas, sung by birds, each bird being represented, in outline, before the stanza appropriated to it. In the whole, only three leaves. The "last and not least" of the MSS. which I deem it worthy to mention, is an highly illuminated one of _St. Austin upon the Psalms_. This was the _first_ book which I remembered to have seen, upon the continent, from the library of the famous _Corvinus King of Hungary,_ about which certain pages have discoursed largely. It was also an absolutely beautiful book: exhibiting one of the finest specimens of art of the latter end of the XVth century. The commentary of the Saint begins on the recto of the second leaf, within such a rich, lovely, and exquisitely executed border--as almost made me forget the embellishments in the _Sforziada_ in the Royal Library of France.[15] The border in question is a union of pearls and arabesque ornaments quite standing out of the background ... which latter has the effect of velvet. The arms, below, are within a double border of pearls, each pair of pearls being within a gold circle upon an ultramarine ground. The heads and figures have not escaped injury, but other portions of this magical illumination have been rubbed or partly obliterated. A ms. note, prefixed by M. Le Bret, informs us, in the opinion of its writer, that this illumination was the work of one "_Actavantes de Actavantibus of Florence_,--who lived towards the end of the XVth century," and who really seems to have done a great deal for Corvinus. The initial letters, throughout this volume, delicately cross-barred in gold, with little flowers and arabesques, &c. precisely resemble those in the MS. of Mr. Hibbert.[16] Such a white, snowy page, as the one just in part described, can scarcely be imagined by the uninitiated in ancient illuminated MSS. The binding, in boards covered with leather, has the original ornaments, of the time of Corvinus, which are now much faded. The fore-edges of the leaves preserve their former gilt-stamped ornaments. Upon the whole--an ALMOST MATCHLESS book! Such, my good friend, are the treasures, both in MS. and in print, which a couple of morning's application, in the Public Library of Stuttgart, have enabled me to bring forward for your notice. A word or two, now, for the treasures of the ROYAL LIBRARY, and then for a little respite. The Library of his Majesty is in one of the side wings, or rather appurtenances, of the Palace: to the right, on looking at the front. It is on the first floor--where _all_ libraries should be placed--and consists of a circular and a parallelogram-shaped room: divided by a screen of Ionic pillars. A similar screen is also at the further end of the latter room. The circular apartment has a very elegant appearance, and contains some beautiful books chiefly of modern art. A round table is in the centre, covered with fine cloth, and the sides and pillars of the screen are painted wholly in white--as well as the room connected with it. A gallery goes along the latter, or parallelogram-shaped apartment; and there are, in the centre, two rows of book-cases, very tall, and completely filled with books. These, as well as the book-cases along the sides, are painted white. An elaborately painted ceiling, chiefly composed of human figures, forms the graphic ornament of the long library; but, unluckily, the central book-cases are so high as to cover a great portion of the painting--viewed almost in any direction. At the further end of the long library, facing the circular extremity, is a bust of the late King of Würtemberg, by Dannecker. It bears so strong a resemblance to that of our own venerable monarch, that I had considered it to be a representation of him--out of compliment to the Dowager Queen of Würtemberg, his daughter. The ceiling of this Library is undoubtedly too low for its length. But the circular extremity has something in it exceedingly attractive, and inviting to study. In noticing some of the contents of this Library, I shall correct the error committed in the account of the Public Library, by commencing here with the MANUSCRIPTS in preference to the Printed Books. The MSS. are by no means numerous, and are perhaps rather curious than intrinsically valuable. I shall begin with an account of a _Prayer-Book, or Psalter,_ in a quarto form, undoubtedly of the latter end of the XIIth century. Its state of preservation, both for illumination and scription, is quite exquisite. It appears to have been expressly executed for Herman, and Sophia his wife, King and Queen of Hungary and Bohemia--who lived at the latter end of the twelfth century. The names of these royal patrons and owners of, the volume are introduced at the end of the volume, in a sort of litany: accompanied with embellishments of the Mother of Christ, Saints and Martyrs, &c.: as thus: "_Sophia Regina Vngariæ, Regina Bohemiæ_"--"_Herman Lantgrauius Turingie, Rex Vngariæ, Rex Bohemiæ_." In the Litany, we read (of the _latter_) in the address to the Deity, "_Vt famulu tuu_ HERMANNV _in tua misericordia confidente, confortare et regere dignter:_" so that there is no doubt about the age of the MS. In the representations of the episcopal dresses, the tops of the mitres are depressed--another confirmation of the date of the book. The initial letters, and especially the B before the Psalms, are at once elegant and elaborate. Among the subjects described, the _Descent into Hell_, or rather the Place of Torment, is singularly striking and extraordinary. The text of the MS. is written in a large bold gothic letter. This volume has been recently bound in red morocco, and cruelly cut in the binding. Of course, here are some specimens of illuminated _Hours_, both in manuscript and print. In the former, I must make you acquainted with a truly beautiful volume; upon the fly leaf of which we read as follows: "I 3 F, RT, lo _Fortitudo Eius Rhodum tenuit Amadeus Graff^{9} Sauoia_." Below, "_Biblioth: Sem: Mergenth_:" then, a long German note, of which I understood not one word, and as M. Le Bret was not near me, I could not obtain the solution of it. But although I do not understand one word of this note, I do understand that this is one of the very prettiest, and most singularly illuminated Missals, which any library can possess: broad margins: vellum, white as snow in colour, and soft as that of Venice in touch! The text is written in a tall, close, gothic character--between, as I should conceive, the years 1460 and 1480. The _drolleries_ are delightfully introduced and executed. The initial letters are large and singular; the subject being executed within compartments of gothic architecture. The figures, of which these subjects are composed, are very small; generally darkly shaded, and highly relieved. They are numerous. Of these initial letters, the fifth to the ninth, inclusively, are striking: the sixth being the most curious, and the ninth the most elaborate. The binding of this volume seems to be of the sixteenth century. This is as it should be. But, more precious than either, or than both, or than three times as many of the preceding illuminated volumes--in the estimation of our friend * * * would be a MS. of which the title runs thus: "_Libri Duo de Vita_ S. WILLIBROORDI _Archiepiscopi autore humili de vita_ ALCUINI _cum prefat. ad Beonradum Archiepiscopum. Liber secundus metrice scriptus est_."[17] Then an old inscription, thus: "_Althwinus de vita Willibrordi Epi_." There can be no doubt of this MS. being at least as old as the eleventh century. The PRINTED BOOKS--at least the account of such as seemed to demand a more particular examination, will not occupy a very great share of your attention. I will begin with a pretty little VELLUM COPY of the well-known _Hortulus Animæ_, of the date of 1498, in 12mo., printed by _Wilhelmus Schaffener de Ropperswiler,_ at _Strasbourg_. The vellum is excellent; and the wood cuts, rather plentifully sprinkled through the volume, happen fortunately to be well-coloured. This copy appears to have come from the "_Weingarth Monastery"_, with the date of 1617 upon it--as that of its having been then purchased for the monastery. It is in its original wooden binding: wanting repair. Here are a few _Roman Classics_, which are more choice than those in the Public Library: as _Reisinger's Suetonius_, in 4to. but cropt, and half bound in red morocco, with yellow sprinkled edges to the leaves--a woful specimen of the general style of binding in this library. _Lucretius_, 1486: _Manilius_, 1474: both in one volume, bound in wood--and sound and desirable copies. _Eutropius_, 1471; by Laver; a sound, desirable copy, in genuine condition. Of _Bibles_, here is the Greek Aldine folio of 1518, in frightful half binding, cropt to the quick: also an Hungarian impression of the two Books of Samuel and of Kings, of 1565, in folio--beginning: AZ KET SAMVEL: colophon: _Debreczenbe_, &c. MDLXV: in wretched half binding. The small paper of the _Latin Bibles_ of 1592, 1603. And of _Greek Testaments_ here are the first, second, fourth and fifth editions of Erasmus; the first, containing both parts, is in one volume, in original boards, or binding; a sound and clean copy: written upon, but not in a _very_ unpicturesque manner. The second edition is but an indifferent copy. The following may be considered _Miscellaneous Articles._ I will begin with the earliest. _St. Austin de Singularitate Clericorum_, printed in a small quarto volume by _Ulric Zel_, in 1467: a good, sound, but cropt copy, along with some opuscula of _Gerson_ and _Chrysostom_, also printed by Zel: these, from the Schönthal monastery. At the end of this dull collection of old theology, are a few ms. opuscula, and among them one of the _Gesta Romanorum:_ I should think of the fourteenth century. The _Wurtzburg Synod_, supposed to be printed by Reyser, towards the end of the fifteenth century; and of which there is a copy in the Public Library, as well as another in that of Strasbourg. To the antiquary, this may be a curious book. I mention it again,[18] in order to notice the name and seal of "Iohannes Fabri,--clericus Maguntin diocesz publicus imperiali auctoritate notarius, &c. Scriba iuratus"--which occur at about one fourth part of the work: as I am desirous of knowing whether this man be the same, or related to the, printer so called, who published the _Ethics of Cato_ in 1477?--of which book I omitted to mention a copy in the Public Library here.[19] Bound up with this volume is Fyner's edition of _P. Niger contra perfidos Iudæos_, 1475, folio. Fyner lived at Eislingen, in the neighbourhood of this place, and it is natural to find specimens of his press here. The _Stella Meschiah_ of 1477, is here cruelly cropt, and bound in the usually barbarous manner, with a mustard-coloured sprinkling upon the edges of the leaves. _Historie von der Melusina:_ a singular volume, in the German language, printed without date, in a thin folio. It is a book perfectly _à la_ Douce; full of whimsical and interesting wood cuts, which I do not remember to have seen in any other ancient volume. From the conclusion of the text, it appears to have been composed or finished in 1446, but I suspect the date of its typographical execution to be that of 1480 at the earliest. I looked about sharply for fine, old, mellow-tinted _Alduses:_--but to no purpose. Yet I must notice a pretty little Aldine _Petrarch_ of 1521, 12mo. bound with _Sannazarius de partu Virginis_, by the same printer, in 1527, 12mo.: in old stamped binding--but somewhat cropt. The leaves of both copies crackle lustily on turning them over. These, also, from the Weingarth monastery. I noticed a beautiful little Petrarch of 1546, 8vo. with the commentary of Velutellus; having a striking device of Neptune in the frontispiece: but no _membranaceous_ articles, of this character and period, came across my survey. I cannot, however, take leave of the Royal Library (a collection which I should think must contain 15,000 volumes) without expressing my obligations for the unrestricted privilege of examination afforded me by those who had the superintendance of it. But I begin to be wearied, and it is growing late. The account of the "court-levee," and the winding up of other Stuttgart matters, must be reserved for to-morrow. The watchman has just commenced his rounds, by announcing, as usual, the hour of _ten_--which announce is succeeded by a long (and as I learn _metrical_) exhortation--for the good folks of Stuttgart to take care of their fires and candles. I obey his injunctions; and say good night. [1] See vol. ii. p. 421. [2] [Of this PORTRAIT, which may be truly said to enrich the pages of the previous edition of the Tour, a more _liberal_ use has been made than I was prepared to grant. My worthy friends, Messrs. Treuttel, Würtz, and Richter were welcome to its republication; but a _third edition_ of it, by another hand, ought not to have been published without permission. The ORIGINAL of this Portrait has ceased to exist. After a laborious life of fourscore years, the learned Schweighæuser has departed--in the fullest maturity of reputation arising from classical attainments; to which must be added, all the excellences of a mild, affable, christian-like disposition. As a husband, a father, and a friend, none went before him: no one displayed these domestic virtues in a more perfect and more pleasing form. As a Greek Scholar and Commentator, he may be said to rank with Hemsterhusius, Wyttenbach, and Heyne. He was equally the boast of Strasbourg and the glory of his age. Never was profound learning more successfully united with "singleness of heart," and general simplicity of character. He ought to have a splendid monument (if he have it not already?) among his Fellow Worthies in the church of St. Thomas at Strasbourg. PEACE TO HIS ASHES!] [3] For the first time, my bill (which I invariably called for, and settled, every day) was presented to me in a printed form, in the _black letter_, within an ornamented border. It was entitled Rechnung von Gottlob Ernst Teichmann, zum Waldhorn in Stuttgart. The printed articles, against which blanks are left, to be filled up according to the quantity and quality of the fare, were these: Fruhstuck, Mittag-Essen, Nacht Essen, Fremder Wein, Ordinarier Wein, Verschiedenes, Logis, Feuerung, Bediente. I must be allowed to add, that the head waiter of the Waldhorn, or _Hunting Horn_, was one of the most respectably looking, and well-mannered, of his species. He spoke French fluently, but with the usual German accent. The master of the inn was coarse and bluff, but bustling and civil. He frequently devoted one of the best rooms in his house to large, roaring, singing, parties--in which he took a decided lead, and kept it up till past midnight. [4] [The late Duchess of OLDENBURG.] [5] See vol. ii. p. 356. [6] [This Public Library is now pulled down, and another erected on the site of it.] [7] In one of these copies is an undoubtedly coeval memorandum in red ink, thus: "_Explicit liber iste Anno domini Millesio quadringentissimo sexagesimosexto_ (1466) _format^{9} arte impssoria p venerabilem viru Johane mentell in argentina_," &c. I should add, that, previously to the words "_sexagesimosexto_" were those of "_quiquagesimosexto_"--which have been erased by the pen of the Scribe; but not so entirely as to be illegible. I am indebted to M. Le Bret for the information that this Bible by Mentelin is more ancient than the one, without date or place, &c. (see _Bibl. Spencer_, vol. i. p. 42, &c.) which has been usually considered to be anterior to it. M. Le Bret draws this conclusion from the comparative antiquity of the language of Mentelin's edition. [8] This was the _second_ copy, with the same original piece, which I had seen abroad; that in the Library of the Arsenal at Paris being the first. I have omitted to notice this, in my account of that Library, vol. ii. p. 156-7, &c. [9] [Both volumes will be found particularly described in the _Ædes Althorpianæ_, vol. ii. p. 285-290.] [10] Lord Spencer has recently obtained a PERFECT COPY of this most rare edition--by the purchase of the library of the Duke di Cassano, at Naples. See the _Cassano Catalogue_, p. 116. [11] A very particular description of this rare edition will be found in the _Bibl. Spencer_, vol. ii. p. 141. [12] See the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. cxcviii. [13] See vol. ii. p. 73. [14] See _Ottley's History of Engraving_, vol. i. p. 86; where a fac-simile of this cut is given--which, in the large paper copies, is coloured. [15] See vol. ii. p. 134-5. [16] The SFORZIADA: See the Catalogue of his Library, no. 7559. [17] The prologue of this metrical life begins thus: _Ecce tuis parui uotis uenerande sacerdos Cor quia de vro feruet amore mihi Pontificis magna wilbroodi et psulis almus Recurrens titulis inclyta gesta tuis Sit lux inferior strepitant cum murmure rauco illius egregi^{9} sermo meus meritis_ This life consists of only 11 leaves, having 23 verses in a full page. It is printed in the _Lect. Antiq. of Canisius_, vol. ii. p. 463; and the prose life is printed by _Surius_ and by _Mabillon_. [18] Before described in the _Bibl. Spenceriana_; vol. IV. p. 508. [19] The book in question has the following colophon: _Hoc opus exiguum perfecit rite iohannes Fabri: cui seruat lingonis alta lares. Ac uoluit formis ipsum fecisse casellis. M.cccc.lxxcii de mense maii_. The _s_ is very singular, being smaller than the other letters, and having a broken effect. This copy, in the Public Library at Stuttgart, is not bound, but in excellent condition. LETTER II. THE ROYAL PALACE. A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NEGOTIATION. DANNECKER THE SCULPTOR. ENVIRONS OF STUTTGART. The morrow is come; and as the morning is too rainy to stir abroad, I sit down to fulfil the promise of last night. This will be done with the greater cheerfulness and alacrity, as the evenings have been comparatively cooler, and my slumbers, in consequence, more sound and refreshing. M. LE BRET--must be the first name mentioned upon this occasion. In other words, the negotiation about the _two Virgils_, through the zeal and good management of that active Head-Librarian, began quickly to assume a most decided form; and I received an intimation from Mr. Hamilton, our Chargé d'Affaires, that the King expected to see me upon the subject at the "circle"--last Sunday evening. But before you go with me to court, I must make you acquainted with the place in which the Court is held: in other words, with the ROYAL PALACE of STUTTGART. Take away the gilt cushion and crown at the top of it, and the front façade has really the air of a royal residence. It is built of stone: massive and unpretending in its external decorations, and has two wings running at right angles with the principal front elevation. To my eye, it had, at first view, and still continues to have, more of a Palace-like look than the long but slender structure of the Tuilleries. To the left, on looking at it--or rather behind the left wing is a large, well-trimmed flower-garden, terminating in walks, and a carriage way. Just in front of this garden, before a large bason of water, and fixed upon a sort of parapet wall--is a very pleasing, colossal group of two female statues--_Pomona_ and _Flora_, as I conceive--sculptured by Dannecker. Their forms are made to intertwine very gracefully; and they are cut in a coarse, but hard and pleasingly-tinted, stone. For out-of-door figures, they are much superior to the generality of unmeaning allegorical marble statues in the gardens of the Thuilleries. The interior of the palace has portions, which may be said to verify what we have read, in boyish days, of the wonder-working powers of the lamp of Aladdin. Here are porphyry and granite, and rosewood, and satin-wood, porcelaine, and or-molu ornaments, in all their varieties of unsullied splendor. A magnificent vestibule, and marble staircase; a concert room; an assembly-room; and chamber of audience: each particularly brilliant and appropriate; while, in the latter, you observe a throne, or chair of state, of antique form, but entirely covered with curious gilt carvings--rich, without being gaudy--and striking without being misplaced. You pass on--room after room--from the ceilings of which, lustres of increasing brilliance depend; but are not disposed to make any halt till you enter a small apartment with a cupola roof--within a niche of which stands the small statue of _Cupid_; with his head inclined, and one hand raised to feel the supposed-blunted point of a dart which he holds in the other. This is called the Cupid-Room, out of compliment to DANNECKER the sculptor of the figure, who is much patronised by the Queen. A statue or two by Canova, with a tolerable portion of Gobeleine tapestry, form the principal remaining moveable pieces of furniture. A minuter description may not be necessary: the interiors of all palaces being pretty much alike--if we put pictures and statues out of the question. From the Palace, I must now conduct you to the "circle" or Drawing Room--which I attended. Mr. Hamilton was so obliging as to convey me thither. The King paid his respects personally to each lady, and was followed by the Queen. The same order was observed with the circle of gentlemen. His Majesty was dressed in what seemed to be an English uniform, and wore the star of the Order of the Bath. His figure is perhaps under the middle size, but compact, well formed, and having a gentlemanly deportment. The Queen was, questionless, the most interesting female in the circle. To an Englishman, her long and popular residence in England, rendered her doubly an object of attraction. She was superbly dressed, and yet the whole had a simple, lady-like, appearance. She wore a magnificent tiara of diamonds, and large circular diamond ear rings: but it was her _necklace_, composed of the largest and choicest of the same kind of precious stones, which flashed a radiance on the eyes of the beholder, that could scarcely be exceeded even in the court-circles of St. Petersburg. Her hair was quietly and most becomingly dressed; and with a small white fan in her hand, which she occasionally opened and shut, she saluted, and discoursed with, each visitor, as gracefully and as naturally as if she had been accustomed to the ceremony from her earliest youth. Her dark eyes surveyed each figure, quickly, from head to foot--while ... "_Favours_ to none, to all she _smiles_ extends." Among the gentlemen, I observed a young man of a very prepossessing form and manners--having seven orders, or marks of distinction hanging from his button-holes. Every body seemed anxious to exchange a word with him; and he might be at farthest in his thirtieth year. I could not learn his name, but I learnt that his _character_ was quite in harmony with his _person_: that he was gay, brave, courteous and polite: that his courage knew no bounds: that he would storm a citadel, traverse a morass, or lead on to a charge, with equal coolness, courage, and intrepidity: that repose and inaction were painful to him--but that humanity to the unfortunate, and the most inflexible attachment to relations and friends, formed, equally, distinctive marks of his character. This intelligence quite won my heart in favour of the stranger, then standing and smiling immediately before me; and I rejoiced that the chivalrous race of the _Peterboroughs_ was not yet extinct, but had taken root, and "borne branch and flower," in the soil of Suabia. When it came to my turn to be addressed, the king at once asked--"if I had not been much gratified with the books in the Public Library, and particularly with two _ancient editions_ of Virgil?" I merely indicated an assent to the truth of this remark, waiting for the conclusion to be drawn from the premises. "There has been some mention made to me (resumed his Majesty) about a proposed exchange on the part of Lord Spencer, for these two ancient editions, which appear to be wanting in his Lordship's magnificent collection. For my part, I see no objection to the final arrangement of this business--if it can be settled upon terms satisfactory to all parties." This was the very point to which I was so anxious to bring the conference. I replied, coolly and unhesitatingly, "that it was precisely as his Majesty had observed; that his own Collection was strong in _Bibles_, but comparatively weak in Ancient _Classics_: and that a diminution of the _latter_ would not be of material consequence, if, in lieu of it, there could be an increase of the _former_--so as to carry it well nigh towards perfection; that, in whatever way this exchange was effected, whether by money, or by books, in the first instance, it would doubtless be his Majesty's desire to direct the application of the one or the other to the completion of his _Theological Collection_." The King replied "he saw no objection whatever to the proposed exchange--and left the forms of carrying it into execution with his head librarian M. Le Bret." Having gained my point, it only remained to make my bow. The King then passed on to the remainder of the circle, and was quickly followed by the Queen. I heard her Majesty distinctly tell General Allan,[20] in the English language, that "she could never forget her reception in England; that the days spent there were among the happiest of her life, and that she hoped, before she died, again to visit our country." She even expressed "gratitude for the cordial manner in which she had been received, and, entertained in it."[21] The heat had now become almost insupportable; as, for the reason before assigned, every window and door was shut. However, this inconvenience, if it was severe, was luckily of short duration. A little after nine, their Majesties retired towards the door by which they had entered: and which, as it was reopened, presented, in the background, the attendants waiting to receive them. The King and Queen then saluted the circle, and retired. In ten minutes we had all retreated, and were breathing the pure air of heaven. I preferred walking home, and called upon M. Le Bret in my way. It was about half past nine only, but that philosophical bibliographer was about retiring to rest. He received me, however, with a joyous welcome: re-trimmed his lamp; complimented me upon the success of the negotiation, and told me that I might now depart in peace from Stuttgart--for that "the affair might be considered as settled."[22] I have mentioned to you, more than once, the name of DANNECKER the sculptor. It has been my good fortune to visit him, and to converse with him much at large, several times. He is one of the most unaffected of the living Phidias-tribe; resembling much, both in figure and conversation, and more especially in a pleasing simplicity of manners, our celebrated _Chantry_. Indeed I should call Dannecker, on the score of art as well as of person, rather the Chantry than the _Flaxman_ or _Canova_ of Suabia. He shewed me every part of his study; and every cast of such originals as he had executed, or which he had it in contemplation to execute. Of those that had left him, I was compelled to be satisfied with the plaster of his famous ARIADNE, reclining upon the back of a passant leopard, each of the size of life. The original belongs to a banker at Frankfort, for whom it was executed for the sum of about one thousand pounds sterling. It must be an exquisite production; for if the _plaster_ be thus interesting what must be the effect of the _marble_? Dannecker told me that the most difficult parts of the group, as to detail, were the interior of the leopard's feet, and the foot and retired drapery of the female figure--which has one leg tucked under the other. The whole composition has an harmonious, joyous effect; while health, animation, and beauty breathe in every limb and lineament of Ariadne. But it was my good fortune to witness _one_ original of Dannecker's chisel--of transcendent merit. I mean, the colossal head of SCHILLER; who was the intimate friend, and a townsman of this able sculptor. I never stood before so expressive a modern countenance. The forehead is high and wide, and the projections, over the eye-brows, are boldly, but finely and gradually, marked. The eye is rather full, but retired. The cheeks are considerably shrunk. The mouth is full of expression, and the chin somewhat elongated. The hair flows behind in a broad mass, and ends in a wavy curl upon the shoulders: not very unlike the professional wigs of the French barristers which I had seen at Paris. Upon the whole, I prefer this latter--for breadth and harmony--to the eternal conceit of the wig à la grecque. "It was so (said Dannecker) that Schiller wore his hair; and it was precisely with this physiognomical expression that he came out to me, dressed en roquelaure, from his inner apartment, when I saw him for the last time. I thought to myself--on so seeing him--(added the sculptor) that it is thus that I will chisel your bust in marble." Dannecker then requested me to draw my hand gently over the forehead--and to observe by what careful, and almost imperceptible gradations, this boldness of front had been accomplished; I listened to every word that he said about the extraordinary character then, as it were, before me, with an earnestness and pleasure which I can hardly describe; and walked round and round the bust with a gratification approaching to ecstacy. They may say what they please--at Rome or at London--but a _finer_ specimen of art, in its very highest department, and of its particular kind, the chisel of _no living_ Sculptor hath achieved. As a bust, it is perfect. It is the MAN; with all his MIND in his countenance; without the introduction of any sickly airs and graces, which are frequently the result of a predetermination to treat it--as _Phidias_ or _Praxiteles_ would have treated it! It is worth a host of such figures as that of Marshal Saxe at Strasbourg. "Would any sum induce you to part with it?"--said I, in an under tone, to the unsuspecting artist ... bethinking me, at the same time, of offering somewhere about 250 louis d'or--"None:" replied Dannecker. "I loved the original too dearly to part with this copy of his countenance, in which I have done my utmost to render it worthy of my incomparable friend." I think the artist said that the Queen had expressed a wish to possess it; but he was compelled to adhere religiously to his determination of keeping it for himself. Dannecker shewed me a plaster cast of his intended figure of CHRIST. It struck me as being of great simplicity of breadth, and majesty of expression; but perhaps the form wanted fulness--and the drapery might be a little too sparing. I then saw several other busts, and subjects, which have already escaped my recollection; but I could not but be struck with the quiet and unaffected manner in which this meritorious artist mentioned the approbation bestowed by CANOVA upon several of his performances. He is very much superior indeed to Ohmacht; but comparisons have long been considered as uncourteous and invidious--and so I will only add, that, if ever Dannecker visits England--which he half threatens to do--he shall be fêted by a Commoner, and patronised by a Duke. Meanwhile, you have here his Autograph for contemplation. [Illustration: Autograph of Dannecker] [20] Afterwards Sir Alexander Allan, Bart. I met him and Captain C * * *, of the Royal Navy, in their way to Inspruck. But Sir Alexander (than whom, I believe a worthier or a braver man never entered the profession of which he was so distinguished an ornament) scarcely survived the excursion two years. [21] The Queen of Würtemberg survived the levee, above described, only a few months. Her DEATH was in consequence of over-maternal anxiety about her children, who were ill with the measles. The queen was suddenly called from her bed on a cold night in the month of January to the chamber where her children were seriously indisposed. Forgetful of herself, of the hour, and of the season, she caught a severe cold: a violent erysipelatous affection, terminating in apoplexy, was the fatal result--and SHE, who, but a few short-lived months before, had shone as the brightest star in the hemisphere of her own court;--who was the patroness of art;--and of two or three national schools, building, when I was at Stuttgart, at her own expense--was doomed to become the subject of general lamentation and woe. She was admired, respected, and beloved. It was pleasing, as it was quite natural, to see her (as I had often done) and the King, riding out in the same carriage, or phaeton, without any royal guard; and all ranks of people heartily disposed to pay them the homage of their respect. In a letter from M. Le Bret, of the 8th of June 1819, I learnt that a magnificent chapel, built after the Grecian model, was to contain the monument to be erected to her memory. Her funeral was attended by six hundred students from Tubingen, by torch light. [22] For the sake of juxta-position, I will here mention the SEQUEL, as briefly as may be. The "affair" was far from being at that time "settled." But, on reaching Manheim, about to recross the Rhine, on my return to Paris--I found a long and circumstantial letter from my bibliographical correspondent at Stuttgart, which seemed to bring the matter to a final and desirable issue. "So many thousand francs had been agreed upon--there only wanted a well bound copy of the _Bibliographical Decameron_ to boot:--and the Virgils were to be considered as his Lordship's property." Mr. Hamilton, our Chargé d'Affaires, had authority to pay the money--and I ... walked instantly to _Artaria's_--purchased a copy of the work in question, (which happened to be there, in blue morocco binding,) and desired my valet to get ready to start the next morning, by three or four o'clock, to travel post to Stuttgart: from whence he was not to return _without_ bringing the VIRGILS, in the same carriage which would convey him and the Decameronic volumes. Charles Rohfritsch immediately prepared to set out on his journey. He left Manheim at three in the morning; travelled without intermission to Stuttgart,--perhaps fourscore or ninety miles from Manheim--put up at his old quarters _zum Waldhorn_ (see p. 17, ante.) waited upon M. Le Bret with a letter, and the morocco tomes--RECEIVED THE VIRGILS--and prepared for his return to Manheim--which place he reached by two on the following morning. I had told him that, at whatever hour he arrived, he was to make his way to my chamber. He did as he was desired. "LES VOILA!"--exclaimed he, on placing the two volumes hastily upon the table.--"Ma foi, Monsieur, c'est ceci une drôle d'affaire; il y a je ne sçai pas combien de lieues que j'ai traversé pour deux anciens livres qui ne valent pas à mes yeux le tiers d'un Napoleon!" I readily forgave him all this saucy heresy--and almost hugged the volumes ... on finding them upon my table. They were my constant travelling companions through France to Calais; and when I shewed the _Adam Virgil_ to M. Van Praet, at Paris--"Enfin (remarked he, as he turned over the broad-margined and loud-crackling leaves) voilà un livre dont j'ai beaucoup entendu parler, mais que je n'ai jamais vu!" These words sounded as sweet melody to mine ears. But I will unfeignedly declare, that the joy which crowned the whole, was, when I delivered _both_ the books ... into the hands of their present NOBLE OWNER: with whom they will doubtless find their FINAL RESTING PLACE. [Such was my bibliographical history--eleven years ago. Since that period NO copy of EITHER edition has found its way into England. "Terque quaterque beatus!"] LETTER III. DEPARTURE FROM STUTTGART. ULM. AUGSBOURG. THE PICTURE GALLERY AT AUGSBOURG. _Augsbourg, Hôtel des Trois Nègres, Aug. 9, 1818._ MY DEAR FRIEND; I have indeed been an active, as well as fortunate traveller, since I last addressed you; and I sit down to compose rather a long despatch, which, upon the whole, will be probably interesting; and which, moreover, is penned in one of the noblest hotels in Europe. The more I see of Germany, the more I like it. Behold me, then in _Bavaria_; within one of its most beautiful cities, and looking, from my window, upon a street called _Maximilian Street_--which, for picturesque beauty, is exceeded only by the High-street at Oxford. A noble fountain of bronze figures in the centre of it, is sending forth its clear and agitated waters into the air--only to fall, in pellucid drops, into a basin of capacious dimensions: again to be carried upwards, and again to descend. 'Tis a magnificent fountain; and I wish such an one were in the centre of the street above mentioned, or in that of Waterloo Place. But to proceed with my Journal from Stuttgart. I left that capital of the kingdom of Würtemberg about five in the afternoon, accompanied by my excellent friend M. Le Bret, who took a seat in the carriage as far as the boundaries of the city.[23] His dry drollery, and frankness of communication, made me regret that he could not accompany us--at least as far as the first stage _Plochingen_;--especially as the weather was beautiful, and the road excellent. However, the novelty of each surrounding object--(but shall ... I whisper a secret in your ear?--the probably successful result of the negotiation about the two ancient editions of Virgil--yet more than each surrounding object) put me in perfect good humour, as we continued to roll pleasantly on towards our resting-place for the night--either _Göppingen_, or _Geislingen_,--as time and inclination might serve. The sky was in a fine crimson glow with the approaching sun-set, which was reflected by a river of clear water, skirted in parts by poplar and birch, as we changed horses at _Plochingen_. It was, I think, _that_ town, rather than Göppingen, (the next stage) which struck us, en passant, to be singularly curious and picturesque on the score of antiquity and street scenery. It was with reluctance that I passed through it in so rapid a manner: but necessity alone was the excuse. We slept, and slept comfortably, at _Göppingen_. From thence to _Geislingen_ are sweet views: in part luxuriant and cultivated, and in part bold and romantic. Here, were the humble and neatly-trimmed huts of cottagers; there, the lofty and castle-crowned domains of the Baron. It was all pleasing and heart-cheering; while the sky continued in one soft and silvery tint from the unusual transparency of the day. On entering _Geislingen_, our attention was quickly directed to other, and somewhat extraordinary, objects. In this town, there is a great manufactory of articles in _ivory_; and we had hardly stopped to change horses--in other words, the postilion had not yet dismounted--ere we were assailed by some half dozen ill-clad females, who crawled up the carriage, in all directions, with baskets of ivory toys in their hands, saluting us with loud screams and tones--which, of course, we understood to mean that their baskets might be lightened of their contents. Our valet here became the principal medium of explanation. Charles Rohfritsch raised himself up from his seat; extended, his hands, elevated his voice, stamped, seized upon one, and caught hold of another, assailant at the same time--threatening them with the vengeance of the police if they did not instantly desist from their rude assaults. It was indeed high time to be absolute; for Mr. Lewis was surrounded by two, and I was myself honoured by a visit of three, of this gipsy tribe of ivory-venders: who had crawled over the dicky, and up the hinder wheels, into the body of the carriage. There seemed to be no alternative but to purchase _something_. We took two or three boxes, containing crucifixes, toothpicks, and apple-scoops; and set the best face we could upon this strange adventure. Meanwhile, fresh horses were put to; and the valet joked with the ivory venders--having desired the postilion, (as he afterwards informed me) as soon as he was mounted, to make some bold flourishes with his whip, to stick his spurs into the sides of his horses, and disentangle himself from the surrounding female throng as speedily as he could. The postilion did as he was commanded: and we darted off at almost a full gallop. A steep hill was before us, but the horses continued to keep their first pace, till a touch of humanity made our charioteer relax from his efforts. We had now left the town of Geislingen behind us, but yet saw the ivory venders pointing towards the route we had taken. "This has been a strange piece of business indeed, Sir," (observed the valet). "These women are a set of mad-caps; but they are nevertheless women of character. They always act thus: especially when they see that the visitors are English--for they are vastly fond of your countrymen!" We were now within about twenty English miles of ULM. Nothing particular occurred, either by way of anecdote or of scenery, till within almost the immediate approach, or descent to that city--the last in the Suabian territories, and which is separated from Bavaria by the river Danube. I caught the first glance of that celebrated river (here of comparatively trifling width) with no ordinary emotions of delight. It recalled to my memory the battle of _Blenheim_, or of _Hochstedt_; for you know that it was across this very river, and scarcely a score of miles from Ulm, that the victorious MARLBOROUGH chased the flying French and Bavarians--at the battle just mentioned. At the same moment, almost, I could not fail to contrast this glorious issue with the miserable surrender of the town before me--then filled by a large and well-disciplined army, and commanded by that non-pareil of generals, J.G. MACK!--into the power of Bonaparte... almost without pulling a trigger on either side--the place itself being considered, at the time, one of the strongest towns in Europe. These things, I say, rushed upon my memory, when, on the immediate descent into Ulm, I caught the first view of the tower of the MINSTER ... which quickly put Marlborough, and Mack, and Bonaparte out of my recollection. I had never, since quitting the beach at Brighton, beheld such an _English-like_ looking cathedral--as a whole; and particularly the tower. It is broad, bold, and lofty; but, like all edifices, seen from a neighbouring and perhaps loftier height, it loses, at first view, very much of the loftiness of its character. However, I looked with admiration, and longed to approach it. This object was accomplished in twenty minutes. We entered Ulm about two o'clock: drove to an excellent inn (the _White Stag_--which I strongly recommend to all fellow-travellers) and ordered our dinner to be got ready by five; which, as the house was within a stone's cast of the cathedral, gave us every opportunity of visiting it before hand. The day continued most beautiful: and we sallied forth in high spirits, to gaze at and to admire every object of antiquity which should present itself. You may remember my mentioning, towards the close of my last despatch, that a letter was lying upon the table, directed to one of the Professors of the University, or _gymnase_, of this place. The name of that Professor was VEESENMEYER; a very respectable, learned, and kind-hearted gentleman. I sought his house (close to the cathedral) the very first thing on quitting the hotel. The Professor was at home. On receiving my letter, by the hands of a pretty little girl, one of his daughters, M. Veesenmeyer made his appearance at the top of a short stair case, arrayed in a sort of woollen, quilted jacket, with a green cloth cap on, and a pipe in his mouth--which latter seemed to be full as tall as himself. I should think that the Professor could not be taller than his pipe, which might be somewhere about five feet in length. His figure had an exceedingly droll appearance. His mode of pronouncing French was somewhat germanized; but I strained every nerve to understand him, as my valet was not with me, and as there would have been no alternative but to have talked Latin. I was desirous of seeing the library, attached to the cathedral. "Could the Professor facilitate that object?" "Most willingly--" was his reply--"I will write a note to * * the librarian: carry it to him, and he will shew you the library directly, if he be at home." I did as he desired me; but found the number of the house very difficult to discover--as the houses are numbered, consecutively, throughout the town--down one street and up another: so that, without knowing the order of the _streets_ through which the numbers run, it is hardly possible for a stranger to proceed. Having sauntered round and round, and returned almost to the very spot whence I had set out, I at last found the residence of the librarian.--On being admitted, I was introduced to a tall, sharp-visaged, and melancholy-complexioned gentleman, who seemed to rise six feet from the ground on receiving me. He read the Professor's note: but alas! could not speak one word of French. "Placetne tibi, Domine, sermone latino uti?" I answered in the affirmative; but confessed that I was totally out of the habit of speaking it in England: and besides, that our _mode of pronunciation_ was very different from that of other countries. The man of dark vestments and sombre countenance relaxed into a gentle smile, as I added the latter part of this remark: and I accompanied him quickly, but silently, to the library in question. Its situation is surely among the most whimsical in existence. It is placed up one pair of stairs, to the left of the choir; and you ascend up to it through a gloomy and narrow stone staircase. If I remember rightly, the outward door, connecting with the stairs, is in the cathedral yard. The library itself is very small; and a print, being a portrait of its Donor, hangs up against the shelves--facing as you enter. I had never seen this print before. It was an interesting portrait; and had, I think, a date of somewhere about 1584. The collection was chiefly theological; yet there were a few old classics, but of very secondary value. The only book that I absolutely coveted, was a folio, somewhat charged with writing in the margins, of which the title and colophon are as follow:--for I obtained permission to make a memorandum of them. "Gutheri Ligurini Poetæ clarissimi diui Frid. pri Dece libri foeliciter editi: _impssi per industriu & ingeniosu Magistru Erhardu Oeglin ciuem augustesem Ano Sesquimillesimo & septimo mese Apprilio_" This edition contains M vj, in sixes. The preceding article is followed by six leaves, containing supplemental matter. I asked my sable attendant, if this book could be parted with--either for money, or in exchange for other books? he replied, "that that point must be submitted to the consideration of a chapter: that the library was rarely or never visited; but that he considered it would not be proper to disturb its order, or to destroy its identity, since it was a _sacred legacy_." I told him that he reasoned well; but that, should the chapter change such a resolution, my address would be found at Vienna, poste restante, till the 20th of the following month. We parted in terms of formal politeness; being now and then a little checked in my discourse, by the reply, on his part, of "Non prorsus intelligo." I am glad, however, to have seen this secluded cabinet of books; which would have been the very place for the study of Anthony Wood or Thomas Hearne. It had quite an air of monastic seclusion, and it seemed as if scarcely six persons had trod the floor, or six volumes had been taken down from the shelves, since the day when the key was first turned upon the door which encloses the collection. After a few "_salves_," and one "_vale_," I returned to the White Stag. The CATHEDRAL of ULM is doubtless among the most respectable of those upon the continent. It is large and wide, and of a massive and imposing style of architecture. The buttresses are bold, and very much after the English fashion. The tower is the chief exterior beauty. Before we mounted it, we begged the guide, who attended us, to conduct us all over the interior. This interior is very noble: and even superior, as a piece of architecture, to that of Strasbourg. I should think it even longer and wider--for the truth is, that the tower of _Strasbourg_ Cathedral is as much too _tall_, as that of _Ulm_ cathedral is too _short_, for its nave and choir. Not very long ago, they had covered the interior by a white wash; and thus the mellow tint of probably about five centuries--in a spot where there are few immediately surrounding houses--and in a town of which the manufactories and population are comparatively small--the _latter_ about 14,000--thus, I say, the mellow tint of these five centuries (for I suppose the cathedral to have been finished about the year 1320) has been cruelly changed for the staring and chilling effects of whiting. The choir is interesting in a high degree. At the extremity of it, is an altar--indicative of the Lutheran form of worship[24] being carried on within the church--upon which are oil paintings upon wood, emblazoned with gilt backgrounds--of the time of _Hans Burgmair_, and of others at the revival of the art of painting in Germany. These pictures turn upon hinges, so as to shut up, or be thrown open; and are in the highest state of preservation. Their subjects are entirely scriptural; and perhaps old _John Holbein_, the father of the famous Hans Holbein, might have had a share in some of them. Perhaps they may come down to the time of _Lucas Cranach_. Whenever, or by whomsoever executed, this series of paintings, upon the high altar of the cathedral of Ulm, cannot be viewed without considerable satisfaction. They were the first choice specimens of early art which I had seen on this side of the Rhine; and I of course contemplated them with the hungry eye of an antiquary. After a careful survey of the interior, the whole of which had quite the air of English cleanliness and order, we prepared to mount the famous tower. Our valet, Rohfritsch, led the way; counting the steps as he mounted, and finding them to be about three hundred and seventy-eight in number. He was succeeded by the guide. Mr. Lewis and myself followed in a more leisurely manner; peeping through the interstices which presented themselves in the open fretwork of the ornaments, and finding, as we continued to ascend, that the inhabitants and dwelling houses of Ulm diminished gradually in size. At length we gained the summit, which is surrounded by a parapet wall of some three or four feet in height. We paused a minute, to recover our breath, and to look at the prospect which surrounded us. The town, at our feet, looked like the metropolis of Laputa. Yet the high ground, by which we had descended into the town--and upon which Bonaparte's army was formerly encamped--seemed to be more lofty than the spot whereon we stood. On the opposite side flowed the _Danube_: not broad, nor, as I learnt very deep; but rapid, and in a serpentine direction. The river here begins to be navigable for larger boats; but there is little appearance of bustle or business upon the quays. Few or no white sails, floating down the stream, catch the morning or the evening sun-beam: no grove of masts: no shouts of mariners: no commercial rivalry. But what then? Close to the very spot where we stood, our attention was directed to a circumstance infinitely more interesting, to the whimsical fancy of an Antiquary, than a whole forest of masts. What might this be? Listen. "Do you observe, here, gentlemen?" said the guide--pointing to the coping of the parapet wall, where the stone is a little rubbed, "I do"--(replied I) "What may this mean?" "Look below, Sir, (resumed he) how fearfully deep it is. You would not like to tumble down from hence?" This remark could admit but of one answer--in the _negative_; yet the man seemed to be preparing himself to announce some marvellous fact, and I continued mute. "Mark well, gentlemen; (continued he) it was here, on this identical spot, that our famous EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN stood upon one leg, and turned himself quite round, to the astonishment and trepidation of his attendants! He was a man of great bravery, and this was one of his pranks to shew his courage. This story, gentlemen, has descended to us for three centuries; and not long ago the example of the Emperor was attempted to be imitated by two officers,--one of whom failed, and the other succeeded. The first lost his balance, and was precipitated to the earth--dying the very instant he touched the ground; the second succeeded, and declared himself, in consequence, MAXIMILIAN the SECOND!" I should tell you, however, that these attempts were not made on the same day. The officers were Austrian. The room in the middle of the platform, and surmounted by a small spire does not appear to be used for any particular purpose. Having satisfied our curiosity, and in particular stretched our eyes "as far (to borrow Caxton's language) as we well might"--in the direction of _Hochstedt_--we descended, extremely gratified; and sought the hotel and our dinner. Upon the whole, the cathedral of Ulm is a noble ecclesiastical edifice: uniting simplicity and purity with massiveness of composition. Few cathedrals are more uniform in the style of their architecture. It seems to be, to borrow technical language, all of a piece. Near it, forming the foreground of the Munich print, are a chapel and a house surrounded by trees. The chapel is very small, and, as I learnt, not used for religious purposes. The house (so Professor Veesenmeyer informed me) is supposed to have been the residence and offices of business of JOHN ZEINER, the well known _printer_, who commenced his typographical labours about the year 1470,[25] and who uniformly printed at Ulm; while his brother GUNTHER as uniformly exercised his art in the city whence I am now addressing you. They were both natives of _Reutlingen_; a town of some note between Tubingen and Ulm. Let no man, from henceforth, assert that all culinary refinement ceases when you cross the Rhine; at least, let him not do so till he has tasted the raspberry-flavoured soufflet of the _White Stag of Ulm_. It came on the table like unto a mountain of cream and eggs, spreading its extremities to the very confines of the dish; but, when touched by the magic-working spoon, it collapsed, and concentrated into a dish of moderate and seemly dimensions. In other words, this very soufflet--considered by some as the _crux_ of refined cookery--was an exemplification of all the essential requisites of the culinary art: but without the _cotelette_, it would not have satisfied appetites which had been sharpened by the air of the summit of the tower of the cathedral. The inn itself is both comfortable and spacious. We dined at one corner of a ball-room, upon the first floor, looking upon a very pleasant garden. After dinner, I hastened to pay my respects to Professor Veesenmeyer, according to appointment. I found him, where all Professors rejoice to be found, in the centre of his library. He had doffed the first dress in which I had seen him; and the long pipe was reposing horizontally upon a table covered with green baize. We began a bibliographical conversation immediately; and he shewed me, with the exultation of a man who is conscious of possessing treasures for which few, comparatively, have any relish--his _early printed_ volumes, upon the lower shelf of his collection. Evening was coming on, and the daylight began to be treacherous for a critical examination into the condition of old volumes. The Professor told me he would send me a note, the next morning, of what further he possessed in the department of early printing,[26] and begged, in the mean time, that he might take a walk with me in the town. I accepted his friendly offer willingly, and we strolled about together. There is nothing very interesting, on the score of antiquities, except it be the _Rath Haus_, or Town Hall; of which the greater part may be, within a century, as old as the Cathedral.[27] On the following morning I left Ulm, well pleased to have visited the city; and, had the time allowed, much disposed to spend another twenty-four hours within its walls. But I had not quitted my bed (and it was between six and seven o'clock in the morning) before my good friend the Professor was announced: and in half a second was standing at the foot of it. He pulled off his green cloth cap, in which I had first seen him--and I pulled off my night cap, to return his salutation--raising myself in bed. He apologised for such an early intrusion, but said "the duties of his situation led him to be an early riser; and that, at seven, his business of instructing youth was to begin." I thanked him heartily for his polite attentions--little expecting the honour of so early a visit. He then assumed a graver expression of countenance, and a deeper tone of voice; and added, in the Latin language--"May it please Providence, worthy Sir, to restore you safely, (after you shall have examined the treasures in the imperial library of Vienna) to your wife and family. It will always gratify me to hear of your welfare." The Professor then bowed: shut the door quickly, and I saw him no more. I mention this little anecdote, merely to give you an idea of the extreme simplicity, and friendliness of disposition, (which I have already observed in more than this one instance) of the German character. The day of my departure was market-day at Ulm. Having ordered the horses at ten o'clock, I took a stroll in the market-place, and saw the several sights which are exhibited on such occasions. Poultry, meat, vegetables, butter, eggs, and--about three stalls of modern books. These books were, necessarily, almost wholly, published in the German language; but as I am fond of reading the popular manuals of instruction of every country--whether these instructions be moral, historical, or facetious--I purchased a couple of copies of the _Almanac Historique nommé Le_ _Messager Boiteux_, &c: a quarto publication, printed in the sorriest chap-book manner, at Colmar, and of which the fictitious name of _Antoine Souci, Astronome et Hist._ stands in the title-page as the author. A wood-cut of an old fellow with a wooden leg, and a letter in his right hand, is intended to grace this title-page. "Do you believe (said I to the young woman, who sold me the book, and who could luckily stammer forth a few words of French) what the author of this work says?" "Yes, Sir, I believe even _more_ than what he says--" was the instant reply of the credulous vender of the tome. Every body around seemed to be in good health and good spirits; and a more cheerful opening of a market-day could not have been witnessed. Perhaps, to a stranger, there is no sight which makes him more solicitous to become acquainted with new faces, in a new country, than such a scene as this. All was hilarity and good humour: while, above, was a sky as bright and blue as ever was introduced into an illuminated copy of the devotional volumes printed by the father of the ULM PRESS; to wit, _John Zeiner of Reutlingen_. We crossed the Danube a little after ten o'clock, and entered the territories of the King of BAVARIA. Fresh liveries to the postilion--light blue, with white facings--a horn slung across the shoulders, to which the postilion applied his lips to blow a merry blast[28]all animated us: as, upon paying the tax at the barriers, we sprung forward at a sharp trot towards _Augsbourg_. The morning continued fine, but the country was rather flat; which enabled us, however, as we turned a frequent look behind, to keep the tower of the cathedral of Ulm in view even for some half dozen miles. The distance before us now became a little more hilly: and we began to have the first glimpse of those _forests of firs_ which abound throughout Bavaria. They seem at times interminable. Meanwhile, the churches, thinly scattered here and there; had a sort of mosque or globular shaped summit, crowned by a short and slender spire; while the villages appeared very humble, but with few or no beggars assailing you upon changing horses. We had scarcely reached _Günzbourg_, the first stage, and about fourteen miles from Ulm, when we obtained a glimpse of what appeared to be some lofty mountains at the distance of forty or fifty miles. Upon enquiry, I found that they were a part of a chain of mountains connected with those in the Tyrol. It was about five o'clock when we reached AUGSBOURG; and, on entering it, we could not but be struck with the _painted exteriors_, and elaborate style of architecture, of the houses. We noticed, with surprise not wholly divested of admiration, shepherds and shepherdesses, heroes and heroines, piazzas, palaces, cascades, and fountains--in colours rather gay than appropriate--depicted upon the exterior walls:--and it seemed as if the accidents of weather and of time had rarely visited these decorations. All was fresh, and gay, and imposing. But a word about our Inn, (_The Three Moors_) before I take you out of doors. It is very large; and, what is better, the owner of it is very civil. Your carriage drives into a covered gate way or vestibule, from whence the different stair-cases, or principal doors, lead to the several divisions of the house. The front of the house is rich and elegant. On admiring it, the waiter observed--"Yes, Sir, this front is worthy of the reputation which the _Hôtel of the Three Moors_ possesses throughout Europe." I admitted it was most respectable. Our bed rooms are superb--though, by preference, I always chose the upper suit of apartments. The _caffé_ for dining, below, is large and commodious; and I had hardly bespoke my first dinner, when the head-waiter put the _travelling book_ into my hands: that is, a book, or _album_, in which the names and qualities of all the guests at that inn, from all parts of Europe, are duly registered. I saw the names of several of my countrymen whom I well knew; and inscribed my own name, and that of my companion, with the simplest adjuncts that could be devised. In doing so, I acted only according to precedent. But the boast and glory of this Inn is its GALLERY OF PICTURES: for sale. The great ball-room, together with sundry corridores and cabinets adjoining, are full of these pictures; and, what renders the view of them more delectable, is, the _Catalogue_:--printed in the _English language_, and of which a German is the reputed author. My attention, upon first running over these pictures was, unluckily, much divided between them and the vehicle of their description. If I turned to the number, and to the description in the printed catalogue, the language of the latter was frequently so whimsical that I could not refrain from downright laughter.[29] However, the substance must not be neglected for the shadow; and it is right that you should know, in case you put your travelling scheme of visiting this country, next year, into execution, that the following observations may not be wholly without their use in directing your choice--as well as attention--should you be disposed to purchase. Here is _said_ to be a portrait of _Arcolano Armafrodita_, a famous physician at Rome in the XVth century, by _Leonardo da Vinci_. Believe neither the one nor the other. There are some _Albert Durers_; one of the _Trinity,_ of the date of 1523, and another of the _Doctors of the Church_ dated 1494: the latter good, and a choice picture of the early time of the master. A portrait of an old man, kit-cat, _supposed_ by _Murillo_. Two ancient pictures by _Holbein_ (that is, the _Father_ of Hans Holbein) of the _Fugger family_--containing nine figures, portraits, of the size of life: dated 1517 and deserving of notice. An old woman veiled, half-length, by _J. Levens_: very good. Here are two _Lucas Cranachs_, which I should like to purchase; but am fearful of dipping too deeply into Madame Francs's supplemental supply. One is a supposed portrait (it is a mere supposition) of _Erasmus_ and his mistress; the other is an old man conversing with a girl. As specimens of colouring, they are fine--for the master; but I suspect they have had a few retouches. Here is what the catalogue calls "A _fuddling-bout. beautyful small piece, by Rembrand_:" nº. 188: but it is any thing but a beautiful piece, and any thing but a Rembrandt. There is a small picture, said to be by _Marchessini_, of "Christ dragged to the place of execution." It is full of spirit, and I think quite original. At first I mistook it for a _Rubens_; and if Marchessini, and not Otho Venius, had been his master, this mistake would have been natural. I think I could cull a nosegay of a few vivid and fragrant flowers, from this graphic garden of plants of all colours and qualities. But I shrewdly suspect that they are in general the off-scourings of public or private collections; and that a thick coat of varnish and a broad gilt frame will often lead the unwary astray. While I am upon the subject of _paintings_, I must take you with me to the TOWN HALL ... a noble structure; of which the audience room, up one pair of stairs--and in which Charles V. received the deputies respecting the famous _Augsbourg Confession of Faith_, in 1530,--is, to my taste, the most perfectly handsome room which I have ever seen. The wainscot or sides are walnut and chestnut wood, relieved by beautiful gilt ornaments. The ceiling is also of the same materials; but marked and diversified by divisions of square, or parallelogram, or oval, or circular, forms. This ceiling is very lofty, for the size of the room: but it is a fault (if it be one) on the right side. I should say, that this were a chamber worthy of the cause--and of the actors--in the scene alluded to. It is thoroughly imperial: grave, grand, and yet not preposterously gorgeous. Above this magnificent room is the PICTURE GALLERY. It is said to receive the overflowings of the gallery of Munich--which, in turn, has been indebted to the well known gallery of Dusseldorf for its principal treasures. However, as a receiver of cast-off apparel, this collection must be necessarily inferior to the parent wardrobe, yet I would strongly recommend every English Antiquary--at all desirous of increasing his knowledge, and improving his taste, in early German art--to pay due attention to this singular collection of pictures at Augsbourg. He will see here, for the first time in Bavaria--in his route from the capital of France--productions, quite new in character, and not less striking from boldness of conception and vigor of execution. Augsbourg may now be considered the soil of the _Elder Holbein_, _Hans Burgmair_, _Amberger_, and _Lucas Cranach_. Here are things, of which Richardson never dreamt, and which Walpole would have parted with three fourths of his graphic embellishments at Strawberry Hill to have possessed. Here are also portraits of some of the early Reformers, of which an excellent Divine (in the vicinity of Hackney church) would leap with transport to possess copies, wherewith to adorn his admirable collection of English ecclesiastical history. Here, too, are capricious drolleries, full of character and singularity--throwing light upon past manners and customs--which the excellent PROSPERO would view with ... an almost coveting eye! But to be more particular; and to begin with the notice of a curious performance of John, or the ELDER HOLBEIN. It is divided, like many of the pictures of the old German masters, into three compartments. The _Nativity_ occupies one; the _Assumption_ another: and the decapitation of _St. Dorothy_ the third. In the Assumption, the Trinity, composed of three male figures, is introduced as sanctifying the Virgin--who is in front. Below this group is the church of "_Maria Maior_," having two bells in the steeple; upon one of which, in the act of being tolled, is the date of 1499: upon the other, in a quiescent state, are the words HANS HOLBEIN: with the initial L.B. to the right. To the left, at bottom, is the inscription HIE LITBE GRA; to the right, below, on a piece of stone, the initial H. The third piece in this composition, the death of St. Dorothy, exhibits a sweetly-drawn and sweetly coloured countenance in that of the devoted Saint. She is kneeling, about to receive the uplifted sword of the executioner; evincing a firmness, yet meekness of resignation, not unworthy the virgin martyrs of the pencils of Raphael and Guido. Her hair is long, and flows gracefully behind. A little boy, habited in a whimsical jacket, offers her a vase filled with flowers. The whole picture is rich and mellow in its colouring, and in a fine state of preservation. Another piece, by the same uncommon artist, may be also worth particular notice. It is a miscellaneous performance, divided into three compartments; having, in the upper part of the first, a representation of the Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane. Our Saviour is placed in a very singular situation, within a rock. The comforting angel appears just above him. Below is the Pope, in full costume, in the character of St. Peter, with a key in his left hand, and in his right a scroll; upon the latter of which is this inscription: "_Auctoritate aplica dimitto vob omia pcta_"[30] The date of 1501 is below. This picture, which is exceedingly gorgeous, is in the purest state of preservation. Another compartment represents our Saviour and the Virgin surrounded by male and female martyrs. One man, with his arms over his head, and a nail driven through them into his skull, is very striking: the head being well drawn and coloured. To the left, are the Pope, Bishops, and a Cardinal between St. Christopher and a man in armour. One Bishop (_St. Erasmus_) carries a spit in his left hand, designating the instrument whereby he suffered death. This large picture is also in a very fine state of preservation. A third display of the graphic talents of the Elder Holbein (as I should conceive, rather than of the son, when young--as is generally believed) claims especial notice. This picture is a representation of the leading events in the _Life of St. Paul_; having, like most other performances of this period, many episodes or digressions. It is also divided into three compartments; of which the central one, as usual, is the most elevated. The first compartment, to the left, represents the conversion of St. Paul above, with his baptism by Ananias below. In this baptism is represented a glory round the head of St. Paul--such as we see round that of Christ. Before them stands a boy, with a lighted torch and a box: an old man is to the left, and another, with two children, to the right. This second old man's head is rather fine. To the left of the baptism, a little above, is St. Paul in prison, giving a letter to a messenger. The whole piece is, throughout, richly and warmly coloured, and in a fine state of preservation. The central piece has, above, ["_Basilica Sancti Pauli_."] Christ crowned with thorns. The man, putting a sceptre in his hand, is most singularly and not inelegantly clothed; but one or two of the figures of the men behind, occupied in platting the crown of thorns, have a most extraordinary and original cast of countenance and of head-dress. They appear ferocious, but almost ludicrous, from bordering upon caricature; while the leaves; and bullrush-like ornaments of their head-dress, render them very singularly striking personages. To the right, Joseph of Arimathea is bargaining for the body of Jesus; the finger of one hand placed against the thumb of the other telling the nature of the action admirably. Below this subject, in the centre, is St. Paul preaching at Athens. One of the figures, listening to the orator with folded arms, might have given the hint to Raphael for one of _his_ figures, in a similar attitude, introduced into the famous cartoon of the same subject. Before St. Paul, below, a woman is sitting--looking at him, and having her back turned to the spectator. The head-dress of this figure, which is white, is not ungraceful. I made a rude copy of it; but if I had even coloured like * * * I could not have done justice to the neck and back; which exhibited a tone of colour that seemed to unite all the warmth of Titian with all the freshness of Rubens. In the foreground of this picture, to the right, St. Peter and St. Paul are being led to execution. There is great vigour of conception and of touch (perhaps bordering somewhat upon caricature) in the countenances of the soldiers. One of them is shewing his teeth, with a savage grin, whilst he is goading on the Apostles to execution. The headless trunk of St. Paul, with blood spouting from it, lies to the left; the executioner, having performed his office, is deliberately sheathing his sword. The colouring throughout may be considered perfect. We now come to the remaining, or third compartment. This exhibits the interment of St. Paul. There is a procession from a church, led on by the Pope, who carries the head of the Apostle upon a napkin. The same head is also represented as placed between the feet of the corpse, in the foreground. There is a clever figure, in profile, of a man kneeling in front: the colouring of the robe of a Bishop, also kneeling, is rich and harmonious. A man, with a glory round his head, is let down in a basket, as from prison, to witness the funeral. But let me not forget to notice the head of an old man, in the procession, (coming out of the church-door) and turning towards the left:--it is admirably well touched. I shall now give you a notion of the talents of HANS BURGMAIR--a painter, as well as engraver, of first-rate abilities. I will begin with what I consider to be the most elaborate specimen of his pencil in this most curious gallery of pictures. The subject is serious, but miscellaneous: and of the date of 1501. It consists of Patriarchs, Evangelists, Martyrs, male and female, and Popes, &c. The Virgin and Christ are sitting, at top, in distinguished majesty. The countenances of the whole group are full of nature and expression: that of the Virgin is doubtless painted after a living subject. It exhibits the prevailing or favourite _mouth_ of the artist; which happens however to be generally somewhat awry. The cherub, holding up a white crown, and thrusting his arm as it were towards the spot where it is to be fixed, is prettily conceived. Upon the whole, this picture contains some very fine heads. Another picture of Hans Burgmair, worth especial attention, is dated 1504. It is, as usual, divided, into three compartments; and the subject is that of _St. Ursula and her Virgins_. Although of less solid merit than the preceding, it is infinitely more striking; being most singularly conceived and executed. The gold ornaments, and gold grounds, are throughout managed with a freedom and minuteness of touch which distinguish many of the most beautiful early missals. In the first compartment, or division, are a group of women round "_Sibila Ancyra Phrygiæ_." The dresses of these women, especially about the breast, are very curious. Some of their head dresses are not less striking, but more simple; having what may be called a cushion of gold at the back of them. In the second compartment is the _Crucifixion_--in the warmest and richest (says my memorandum, taken on the very spot) glow of colour. Beneath, there is a singular composition. Before a church, is a group of pilgrims with staves and hats on; a man, not in the attire of a pilgrim, heads them; he is habited in green, and points backwards towards a woman, who is retreating; a book is in his left hand. The attitudes of both are very natural. Further to the right, a man is retreating--going through an archway--with a badge (a pair of cross keys) upon his shoulder. The retreating woman has also the same badge. To the left, another pilgrim is sitting, apparently to watch; further up, is a house, towards which all the pilgrims seem to be directing their steps to enter. A man and woman come out of this house to receive them with open arms. The third division continues the History of St. Ursula. Her attire, sitting in a vessel by the side of her husband Gutherus, is sumptuous in the extreme. I would have given four ducats for a copy of it, but Mr. Lewis was otherwise engaged. A Pope and Cardinal are to the right of St. Ursula: the whole being in a perfect blaze of splendour. Below, they are dragging the female Saint and her virgin companions on shore, for the purpose of decapitation. An attitude of horror, in one of the virgins, is very striking. There is a small picture by Burgmair of the _Virgin and Christ_, in the manner of the Italian masters, which is a palpable failure. The infant is wretchedly drawn, although, in other respects, prettily and tenderly coloured. Burgmair was out of his element in subjects of dignity, or rather of _repose_. Where the workings of the mind were not to be depicted by strong demarcations of countenance, he was generally unsuccessful. Hence it is, that in a subject of the greatest repose, but at the same time intensity of feeling--the _Crucifixion_--this master, in a picture here, of the date of 1519, has really outdone himself: and perhaps is not to be excelled by _any_ artist of the same period. I could not take my eyes from this picture--of which the figures are about half the size of life. It is thus treated. Our Saviour has just breathed his dying exclamation--"it is finished." His head hangs down--cold, pale death being imprinted upon every feature of the face. It is perhaps a painfully-deadly countenance: copied, I make no doubt, from nature. St. Anne, Mary, and St. John, are the only attendants. The former is quite absorbed in agony--her head is lowly inclined, and her arms are above it. (The pattern of the drapery is rather singular). Mary exhibits a more quiet expression: her resignation is calm and fixed, while her heart seems to be broken. But it is in the figure and countenance of _St. John_, that the artist has reached all that an artist _could_ reach in a delineation of the same subject. The beloved disciple simply looks upwards--upon the breathless corpse of his crucified master. In that look, the world appears to be for ever forgotten. His arms and hands are locked together, in the agony of his soul. There is the sublimest abstraction from every artificial and frivolous accompaniment--in the treatment of this subject--which you can possibly conceive. The background of the picture is worthy of its nobler parts. There is a sobriety of colouring about it which Annibal Caracci would not have disdained to own. I should add, that there is a folding compartment on each side of the principal subject, which, moving upon hinges, may be turned inwards, and shut the whole from view. Each of these compartments contains one of the two thieves who were crucified with Our Saviour. There is a figure of S. Lazarus below one of them, which is very fine for colour and drawing. The last, in the series of old pictures by German masters, which I have time to notice, is an exceedingly curious and valuable one by CHRISTOPHER AMBERGER. It represents _the Adoration of the Magi_. There are throughout very successful attempts at reflected light; but what should set this picture above all price, in my humble estimation, is a portrait--and the finest which I remember to have seen--of MELANCTHON:--executed when he was in the vigour of life, and in the full possession of physiognomical expression. He is introduced in the stable just over those near the Virgin, who are coming to pay their homage to the infant Christ: and is habited in black, with a black cap on. Mr. Lewis made the following rough copy of the head in pencil. To the best of my recollection, there is _no engraving_ of it--so that you will preserve the enclosed for me, for the purpose of having it executed upon copper, when I reach England. It is a countenance full of intellectual expression. [Illustration] Of the supposed _Titians_, _Caraccis_, _Guidos_, _Cignanis_, and _Paolo Veroneses_, I will not presume to say one word; because I have great doubts about their genuineness, or, at any rate, integrity of condition. I looked about for _Albert Durer_, and _Lucas Cranach_, and saw with pleasure the portraits of my old friends _Maximilian I._ and _Charles V._ by the former--and a _Samson and Dalila_ by the latter: but neither, I think, in the very first rate style of the artist. There was a frightful, but expressive and well coloured, head of a Dwarf, or Fool, of which Mr. Lewis took a pencil-copy; but it is not of sufficient importance to enclose in this despatch. It is the EARLY GERMAN SCHOOL of Art which is here the grand and almost exclusive feature of attraction--speaking in an antiquarian point of view. ReÏchard estimates the number of these pictures at _twelve hundred_, but I should rather say _seven hundred_. I find, however, that it will be impossible to compress all my _Augsbourg_ intelligence in one epistle; and so I reserve the remainder for another opportunity. [23] [Several years have elapsed since I have received a letter from Mons. Le Bret. Is he alive? If he be living, let him be assured of my unalterable and respectful attachment: and that I have unfeigned pleasure in annexing a fac-simile of his AUTOGRAPH--from a letter to me of the date of June 8th 1819: a letter, which I received on the 17th of the same month following--the very day of our _Roxburghe Anniversary Dinner_. Singularly enough, this letter begins in the following strain of bibliographical jocoseness: "_Monsieur, et très reverend Frère de Boocace l'Immortel!_"] [Illustration: Signature--f.c. Lebret] [24] The predominant religion is the Protestant. Indeed I may say that the number of Catholics is exceedingly limited: perhaps, not an eighth part of the population of the town. [25] I presume this to be the earliest date which any of his books exhibit. His brother GUNTHER, or GINTHER (for the name is spelt both ways in his colophons) began to print in 1468. Lord Spencer possesses a beautiful copy (which I obtained from the library of St. Peter's Monastery, at Salzbourg) of _Bonaventure's Meditations upon the Life of Christ_, of the date of 1468, printed by G. Zainer, or (Zeiner) at Augsbourg; and considered to be the first effort of his press. [26] The note, above mentioned, was written in Latin: the Professor telling me that he preferred that language to the French, as he thought he could write it more grammatically. A _Latin note_ must be rather a curiosity to my readers: which, as it is purely bibliographical, and in other respects highly characteristic of the _bon-hommie_ of the writer, shall receive a place here. After mentioning the books above specified, the Professor goes on thus: "Haec paucula e pluribus notare libuit, quæ reliqua temporis angustia ostendere non permisit. Habeo enim alias, quas vocant, editiones principes, e.g. Diogenis Laertii, Bas. 1533-4. Josephi, Bas. 1544. fol. Jo. Chrysostomi [Greek: _peri pronoias_] 1526-8. Ej. [Greek: peri hierôsunês], ib 1525-8. Aliorum Græcorum et Patrum. Calpurnii et Nemesiani Eclogarum editionem, ab. do. Alex. Brassicano curatam editionem ad MS. antiquum factam et Argent. 1519-4. impressam. Præterea aliquot Aldinas et Juntinas editiones, aliquot a Mich. Vascosano, Paris. factas, in quibus Thucydidis Libri III. priores, Paris. 1548. 4. cujus margini Lectt. Varr. e MSto adscriptæ sunt, non memoratæ in editione Bipontina. Æschylus, ex edit. Franc. Robortelli, Venet. 1552. 8. Idem ex ed. Henr. Stephani, ex offic. Henr. Stephani, 1557. 4. Dionysii Halic. Opera Rhet. ex. ed. Rob. Stephani, Par. 1547. Fol. Diodor. Sicul. ex edit. Henr. Stephani, 1559. Fol. "Pauculos Codd. MSS. e. gr. Ciceronis de Officiis, Aratoris in Acta App. Fragmenta Liuii et Terentii ostendere tempus non concessit: præter eos habeo aliquot Ciceronis Orationes, Excerpta ex Liuio, duos Historiæ Griseldis, et alios minoris pretii. "Maximam collectionis, Bibliothecam appellare non fas est, meæ partem efficit magnus librorum et libellorum numerus ab Ao. 1500. usque ad 1550. editorum a Reformatoribus eorumque aduersariis, qui numerum sex millium superant, in quibus adsunt Serueti de Trinitatis erroribus, eiusdemque Dialogi, Tomi Pasquillorum, Henr. Corn. Agrippæ aliquot opera, Lemnii Epigrammata, aliquot libelli, Lutheri et Melancthonis manu ornati; præterea alia Collectio Documentorum, quorum antiquissimum est ab. A. 1181 et Epistolarum [Greek: _autographôn_], a viris doctis Sæculorum XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. conscriptarum, in quibus Henr. Steinhoevvelii, Raym. Peraudi, Lutheri, Melancthonis, Zwinglii, Gruteri, Casauboni, Ludolfi, Camerarii, Patris, Rittershusiorum, Piccarti, aliorumque. "Sed nolo longiore enarratione molestus esse, ne vanus esse uidear, a quo vitio nemo me alienior est. Vt divina providentia iter prosperum esse iubeat, est, quod ex animo TIBI, VIR--precatur Vlmæ, Aug. MDCCCXVIII. [Illustration: Signature] P.S. Et TIBI præsenti, et superiora heri nocte et somno ingruente scribens referre omiseram, esse mihi ex XXII. libris _ab Academia Veneta, della Fama dicta_, editis XV. Omnes adeo sunt rari, ut vel instructissimæ bibliothecae vix aliquot eorum habeant. Addo _germanicam Sixti Papæ Bullæ datæ 1474 versionem,_ sine dubio Vlmæ eodem anno impressam, et quinque foliis constantem; quam apud me vidisti." The Professor, with the above note, was also so obliging as to present me with a copy of his "_Specimen Historico-Litterarium de Academia Veneta_. Qua Scholarchæ et Vniversum Gymnasii quod Ulmæ floret Consilium Mæcenates Patronos Fautores ejusdem Gymnasii ad Orationem aditialem A.D. XXIV. Febr. A. 1794, habendam officiose atque decenter invitant."--A Latin brochure of twelve pages: "_Ulmæ ex Officina Wagneri, Patris_." [27] [There is an excellent lithographic print of this Rath Haus, which I possess.] [28] The postboys in the Duchy of Baden, and in the territories of Würtemberg, have also horns; but I never could get any thing, in the character of a tune, performed by either of them. The moment you enter BAVARIA, you observe a greater elasticity of character. [The ARMS of Bavaria head the first page of this third volume of my Tour.] [29] The reader may try the effect of perusing the following articles (taken from this printed catalogue) upon his own muscles. The performance, as I suspect, is by a native of Augsbourg. 75. _Portrait of Justus Lipsius by Rembrand_. This head of a singulary verity shews of draughts of a man of science: the treatement of Clothing is most perfectful, the respiring of life, the hands all wunder-worthy to be admired. 208. _A hunting-piece_ of great beauty by Schneyders, the dogs seem to be alife, the wild-fowls, a hare, toils, just as in nature. 341. _Queen Marie Christine of Sweden_ represented in a very noble situation of body and tranquility of mind, of a fine verity and a high effect of clair-obscure. By Rembrand. 376. _Cromwell Olivier_, kit-cat the size of life, a Portrait of the finest carnation, who shews of a perfect likeness and verity, school of Vandyk, perhaps by himself. 398. Portrait of _Charles the first king of England_ (so many Portraits of famous persons by Classick painters will very seldom be found into a privat collection) good picture by Janson van Miereveld. 399. A large and precious battle piece representing a scene of the famous _victory by Blindheim wonen by Marleborough_ over the frensh 1704. We see here the portrait of this hero very resembling, he in a graceful attitude on horsebak, is just to order a movement: a many generals and attendance are arround him. The leaguer, the landscape, the groups, the fighting all with the greatest thruth, there is nothing that does not contribute to embellish this very remarcable picture, painted by a contemporary of the evenement and famous artist in battle pieces, George Philipp Rugendas. [30] This was no uncommon representation in the early period of art. "In the church of St. Peter the Younger, at Strasbourg, about the year 1515, there was a kind of large printed placard, with figures on each side of it, suspended near a confessional. On one side, was a naked Christ, removing the fire of purgatory with his cross, and sending all those, who came out of the fire, to the Pope--who was seated in his pontifical robes, having letters of indulgence before him. Before him, also, knelt emperors, kings, cardinals, bishops and others: behind him was a sack of silver, with many captives delivered from Mahometan slavery--thanking the supreme Pontiff, and followed by clergymen paying the ransom money to the Turks. There might also be seen captives, at the bottom of a deep well, shut down by bars of iron; and men, women, and children, making all manner of horrible contortions. "Those, says the chronicler Wencker, "who saw such a piteous sight, wept, and gave money liberally--for the possession of indulgences;--of which the money, raised by the sale, was supposed to be applied towards the ransom of Christian captives." HERMANN; _Notices Historiques, &c. de Strasbourg_: vol. ii. p. 434. LETTER IV. AUGSBOURG. CIVIL AND ECCLESIASTICAL ARCHITECTURE. POPULATION. TRADE. THE PUBLIC LIBRARY. In ancient times--that is to say, upwards of three centuries ago--the CITY OF AUGSBOURG was probably the most populous and consequential in the kingdom of Bavaria. It was the principal residence of the noblesse, and the great mart of commerce. Dukes, barons, nobles of every rank and degree, became domiciled here. A thousand blue and white flags streamed from the tops of castellated mansions, and fluttered along the then almost impregnable ramparts. It was also not less remarkable for the number and splendour of its religious establishments. Here was a cathedral, containing twenty-four chapels; and an abbey or monastery (of _Saints Vlric and Afra_) which had no rival in Bavaria for the size of its structure and the wealth of its possessions. This latter contained a LIBRARY, both of MSS. and printed books, of which the recent work of Braun has luckily preserved a record;[31] and which, but for such record, would have been unknown to after ages. The treasures of this Library are now entirely dispersed; and Munich, the capital of Bavaria, is the grand repository of them. Augsbourg, in the first instance, was enriched by the dilapidations of numerous monasteries; especially upon the suppression of the order of the Jesuits. The paintings, books, and relics, of every description, of such monasteries as were in the immediate vicinity of this city, were taken away to adorn the town hall, churches, capitals and libraries. Of this collection, (of which no inconsiderable portion, both for number and intrinsic value, came from the neighbouring monastery of Eichstadt,[32]) there has of course been a pruning; and many flowers have been transplanted to Munich. Yet there are _graphic_ treasures in Augsbourg well deserving the diligent search and critical examination of the English Antiquary. The church of the _Recollets_ has an organ which is considered among the noblest in Europe: nor must I forget to notice the pulpit, by Eichlen, and some old pictures in the church of St. Anne. [Illustration: MONASTERY OF SAINTS ULRIC & AFRA, AUGSBURG.] The TOWN HALL in this city, which I mentioned in my last letter, is thought to be the finest in Germany. It was yet exceeded, as I learn, by the old EPISCOPAL PALACE, now dismembered of its ancient dimensions, and divided into public offices of government. The principal church, at the end of the _Maximilian Street_, is that which once formed the chief ornament of the famous Abbey of Sts. Ulric and Afra.[33] I should think that there is no portion of the present building older than the fourteenth century; while it is evident that the upper part of the tower is of the middle of the sixteenth. It has a nearly globular or mosque-shaped termination--so common in the greater number of the Bavarian churches. It is frequented by congregations both of the Catholic and Protestant persuasion; and it was highly gratifying to see, as I saw, human beings assembled under the same roof, equally occupied in their different forms of adoration, in doing homage to their common Creator. It was also pleasing, the other day, to witness, upon some high religious festival, the crowds of respectable and well-dressed people (chiefly females) who were issuing from the Church just above mentioned. It had quite an English Sunday appearance. I have said that these females were "well dressed"--I should, rather have said superbly dressed: for their head-ornaments--consisting of a cap, depressed at top, but terminating behind in a broad bow--are usually silk, of different colours, entirely covered with gold or silver gauze, and spangles. The hair appeared to be carefully combed and plaited, either turned up in a broad mass behind, or terminating in ringlets. I asked the price of one of the simplest of these caps--worn by the common order of servants--and found it to be little less than a guinea. But they last long, and the owners attach some importance to them. Augsbourg was once distinguished for great learning and piety, as well as for political consequence; and she boasts of a very splendid _martyrological roll_.[34] At the present day, all is comparatively dull and quiet; but you cannot fail to be struck with the magnificence of many of the houses, and the air of importance hence given to the streets; while the paintings upon the outer walls add much to the splendid effect of the whole. The population of Augsbourg is supposed to amount to about thirty thousand. In the time of Maximilian, and Charles V. it was, I make no doubt, twice as numerous. Of the TRADE of Augsbourg, I am not enabled to transmit any very flattering details. Silks, stuffs, dimity, (made here for the first time) and jewellery, are the chief commodities; but for the _latter_, connected with articles of dress, there is rather a brisk demand. The reputation of the manufactory of _Seethaler_, is deserving of mention. In the repository of this respectable tradesman you will find varieties of every description: rings, buckles, clasps, bracelets, and images of Saints, of peculiar and interesting forms. Yet they complain here of stagnation of commerce in almost every one of its branches: although they admit that the continuance of peace will bring things comfortably round again. The late war exhausted both the population and the treasury of Bavaria. They do a good stroke of business in the concerns of the bank: and this is considered rather a famous place for the management of letters and bills of exchange. With respect to the _latter_, some singular customs and privileges are, I understand, observed here: among others, if a bill become due on a _Wednesday_, eight days of grace are invariably allowed. It was the thoughts of the PUBLIC LIBRARY alone that afforded the chief comfort to the depressed state of my spirits, from the excessive heat of the day. What I might _do_, and at last, what I had _done_, within the precincts of that same library, was sure to be my greatest solace during the evening rambles near the ramparts. The good fortune which attended me at Stuttgart, has followed to this place. Within two yards' length of me repose, at this present instant, the first _Horace_, and the finest copy imaginable of the _Polish Protestant Bible_ of Prince Radzivil--together with a _Latin Bible_ of 1475, by _Frisner and Sensenschmidt_, in two enormous folio volumes, of an execution of almost unparalleled magnificence. These are no common stimulants to provoke appetite. It remains to see whether the banquet itself be composed of proportionably palatable ingredients. On leaving Stuttgart, M. Le Bret told me that Messrs. BEYSCHLAG and MAY were the principal librarians or curators of the Public Library of this place; and that I should find them intelligent and pleasant gentlemen. Professor Veesenmeyer at Ulm confirmed this statement. I had a letter from the latter, to the Rector Beyschlag, which procured me an immediate entrance into the library. The Rector's coadjutor, Professor May, was also most prompt to shew me every rarity. In the countenance of the _latter_, I saw, what you could not fail to call that of a handsome-looking English gentleman. I had never before so vehemently desired to speak the German language, or for my new acquaintance to speak my own. However, the French tongue was the happy medium of imparting my ideas and propositions to both the gentlemen in question; and we had hardly exchanged half a dozen sentences, when I opened what I considered (and what eventually turned out to be) a well directed fire upon the ancient volumes by which I was at the time surrounded. The exterior of this library has a monastic form. The building is low and unpretending, having an octangular tower, up the staircase of which you mount to the library. It is situated within a stone's throw of the High Street. The interior of the library is not less unpretending than its exterior: but in a closet, at the hither end, (to the left on entering) are preserved the more ancient, choice, and curious volumes. In one compartment of this cabinet-like retreat are contained the _books printed at Augsbourg_ in the infancy of the press of this town:[35] a collection, extremely creditable in itself and in its object; and from which, no consideration, whether of money, or of exchange for other books, would induce the curators to withdraw a volume. Of course I speak not of _duplicates_ of the early Augsbourg press. Two comparatively long rooms, running in parallel lines, contain the greater part of the volumes of the public library; and amongst them I witnessed so many genuine, fair, and original conditioned copies of literary works, of the early period of the Reformation, that I almost sighed to possess them--except that I knew they could not possibly pay the expenses of conveyance. But for the "well directed fire" above alluded to. It produced a _capitulation_ respecting the following articles--which were selected by myself from the boudoir just mentioned, and about which neither mystery was observed nor secrecy enjoined. In fact, the contract, of the venders was to be submitted to, and sanctioned by, the supreme magistracy of the place. The Rector Beyschlag hath much of merriment and of wit in his composition. "Now, Sir,"--observed he--"bring those treasures forward which we can spare, and let us afterwards settle about their value: ourselves affixing a price." I desired nothing better. In consequence forth came the _first_ (quarto) _Horace_, without date or place, fair, sound, and perfect: the _Familiar Epistles of Cicero_ of the date of 1469, by S. and Pannartz, in a condition perfectly unparalleled in every respect; the _Latin Bible_ of _Frisner and Sensenschmidt_ of 1475, in an equally desirable and pristine condition;[36] the _Polish Protestant Bible_ of 1563, with its first rough-edged margins and in wooden binding; _St. Jerom's Epistles_, printed _at Parma_, by _A. de Portilia_--most captivating to the eye; with a curious black-letter broadside, in Latin sapphics, pasted in the interior of the cover; the _History of Bohemia, by Pope Pius II_, of 1475, as fresh and crackling as if it had just come from the printer: _Schuzler's edition of the Hexameron of Ambrosius_, 1472: the _Hungarian Chronicle_ of 1485.... "Ohe jam satis est...." for one bargain, at least,--methinks I hear you remark. It may be so; but the measure must be fuller. Accordingly, after having shot off my great guns, I brought my howitzers into play. Then commenced a pleasant and not unprofitable parley respecting little grammatical tracts, devotional manuals, travels, philology, &c. When lo!--up sprung a delightful crop of _Lilies_, _Donatuses_, _Mandevilles_, _Turrecrematas_, _Brandts_, _Matthews of Cracow_--in vellum surcoats, white in colour, firm in substance, and most talkative in turning over their leaves! These were mere _florin_ acquisitions: the preceding were paid for in heavy metal of a _golden_ hue. It is not fair to betray all that took place upon this Cockerian transaction; but there may be no harm in mentioning that my purse was lightened by upwards of 100 louis d'or. My spirits were lightened in the same proportion. Neither venders nor vendee grieved at the result. Professor May was most joyous; and although the Rector Beyschlag was sonorous in voice, restless in action, and determined in manner--about fixing an alarmingly high price upon the _first Horace_--yet, by degrees, he subsided into a softer note, and into a calmer action--and the Horace became _mine_ by a sort of contre-projet proposition. Nothing would please Professor May but that I must go home with him, and try my luck in purchasing a few similar rarities out of his _own_ collection. I did so. Madame Francs' supplemental supply became gradually diminished, and I began to think that if I went on in this manner I should not only never reach _Vienna_, but not even _Munich_. This doubt was frankly stated to my book-guardians; and my _ducats_ were immediately commuted into _paper_. The result will doubtless prove the honour of the purchaser; for I have drawn upon a quarter which I had exclusively in view when I made the bargain, and which was never known to fail me. "Surely," thought I to myself as I returned to my hotel, "Messrs. Beyschlag and May are among the most obliging and the most enlightened of their fraternity." I returned to the Public Library the next morning, as well to conclude a bargain for an exchange of books for certain recent bibliographical publications, as to take a list of a few of the more rare, fine, and curious volumes, in their own collection, which were destined _always_ to retain their situations. They have, very properly, the FIRST BOOK PRINTED AT AUGSBOURG: namely, _Aurbach's Meditations upon the Life of Christ_, of the date of 1468, printed by _Gunther Zainer_. But one of the most uncommon books examined by me was "_Augustinus Ypponensis Episcopus De Consensu Evangelistarum: In ciuitate Langingen. Impressus. anno a partu virginis salutifero. Millesimoquadringentesimoseptuagesimotercio. Pridie Idus. Aprilis_." The type is very singular; half gothic and half roman. Of the printer and place I know nothing; except that I learnt from the librarians that "_Langingen_" is situated about ten leagues from Augsbourg, upon the Danube. I made every effort--as well by the _ducat_ as by the _exchange_ method--to prevail upon them to part with this book; but to no purpose. The blood-freezing reply of Professor Veesenmeyer was here repeated--"ça reste, à ... Augsbourg." This book is unbound. Another volume, of the same equivocal but tempting description, was called "_Alcuinus de Trinitate_:--IMPRESSUM IN UTTIPURRHA _Monasterio Sacto^{4} marty^{4}, Alexadri et Theodri. Ordiis Scti Bndicti. Anno Sesquimillesimo KL. septembris_ [Hebrew]." It is printed in a rude gothic letter; and a kind of fly leaf contains a wood-cut portrait of Alcuin. The monastery, where this volume was printed, is now suppressed. A pretty little volume--"as fresh as a daisy" (so says my ms. note taken upon the spot) of the "_Hortulus Rosarium de valle lachrymarum_" (to which a Latin ode by S. Brandt is prefixed), printed by I. de Olpe, in 1499, in the original wooden binding--closed my researches among the volumes executed in the fifteenth century. As I descended into the sixteenth century, the choice was less, although the variety was doubtless greater. A fine genuine copy of _Geyler's Navicula Fatuorum_, 1511, 4to. in its original binding, was quickly noted down, and as quickly _secured_. It was a duplicate, and a ducat made it my own. It is one of the commonest books upon the continent--although there _was_ a time when certain bibliomaniacal madcaps, with us, pushed the bidding for this volume up to the monstrously insane sum of £42:[37]--and all, because it was coated in a Grolier binding! Among the theological books, of especial curiosity, my guides directed my attention to the following: "_Altera hæc pars Testam^ti. veteris emendata est iuxta censuras Inquisitionis Hispanicæ an^o 79_. Nouu testam. recusandu omnino est; rejicienduq. propter plurimos errores qui illius scholiis sunt inserti." This was nothing else than the younger R. Stephen's edition of the vulgate Bible of 1556, folio, of which the _New Testament_ was absolutely SEALED UP. It had belonged to the library of the Jesuits. There was a copy of Erasmus, "_Expurgatus iuxta censuram Academiæ Louaniæ an^o 79_." The name of the printer--which in the preceding Bible had been tried to be _cancelled_--was here uniformly _erased_: but it was doubtless the Basil edition of Erasmus by good old honest Froben and his sons-in-law.[38] What think you of undoubted proofs of STEREOTYPE PRINTING in the middle of the sixteenth century? It is even so. What adds to the whimsical puzzle is, that these pieces of metal, of which the surface is composed of types, fixed and immoveable, are sometimes inserted in wooden blocks, and introduced as titles, mottoes, or descriptions of the subjects cut upon the blocks. Professor May begged my acceptance of a specimen or two of the types, thus fixed upon plates of the same metal. They rarely exceeded the height of four or five lines of text, by about four or five inches in length. I carried away, with his permission, two proofs (not long ago pulled) of the same block containing this intermixture of stereotype and block-wood printing. I believe I have now told you all that appears worthy of being told, (as far as my own opportunities of observation have led me) of the CITY OF AUGSBOURG. I shall leave it (to-morrow) with regret; since a longer residence would, I am persuaded, have introduced me to very pleasant society, and made me acquainted with antiquities, of all kinds, well deserving of _some_ record, however trivial. As it is, I must be content with what the shortness of my time, and the more immediately pressing nature of my pursuits, have brought me in contact. A sight of the _Crucifixion by Hans Burgmair_, and the possession of the most genuine copy of the _editio princeps of Horace_, have richly repaid all the toil and expense of the journey from Stuttgart. The Horace, and the Protestant Polish Bible of 1563, will be my travelling companions--at least as far as _Munich_--from whence my next despatch will be dated.[39] I hope, indeed, to dine at that renowned city ere "the set of to-morrow's sun." In the mean while, adieu. [31] His account of the PRINTED BOOKS in the XVth century, in the monastery above mentioned, was published in 1786, in 2 vols. 4to. That of the MANUSCRIPTS, in the same monastic library, was published in 1791, in 2 vols. or rather perhaps, six parts, 4to. [32] Among the books in this monastery was an uncut copy of the famous edition of the _Meditationes J. de Turrecremata_, of the date of 1467, which is now in the Library of Earl Spencer. In Hartmann Schedel's _Chronicon Norimbergense_, 1493, fol. CLXII, are portraits of the Founders of the Town and Monastery of Eichstadt, or EISTETT; together with a large wood-cut view of the town. This monastery appears to have been situated on a commanding eminence. [33] [This Abbey was questionless one of the most celebrated and wealthy in Europe. The antiquarian reader will be pleased with the OPPOSITE PLATE--presenting a bird's eye view of it, in the year 1619--(when it stood in its pristine splendour) from the _Monasteriologia_, attached to the _Imagines Sanctorum_.] [34] In the BAVARIA SANCTA of RADERUS, 1615-27, 3 vols. folio, will be found a succession of martyrological details--adorned by a series of beautiful engravings by _Ralph Sadeler_. The text is in Latin, and the author has apparently availed himself of all the accessible authorities, in manuscript and print, which were likely to give interest and weight to his narrative. But it seems to have been composed rather for the sake of the ENGRAVINGS--which are generally most admirably executed. Great delicacy and truth of drawing, as well as elegance of grouping, are frequently discernible in them; and throughout the whole of the compositions there is much of the air of _Parmegiano's_ pencil; especially in the females. Sadeler makes his monks and abbots quite _gentlemen_ in their figures and deportment; and some of his miracles are described with great singularity and force of effect. [35] Such is ZAPF'S work, entitled _Annales Typographiæ Augustanæ_, 1778; 4to. republished with copious additions in 1786, two volumes, 4to. The text of the latter is (unfortunately, for the unlearned) printed in the German language. [36] [This Latin Bible came from the Eichstadt Monastery.] [37] _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. iii. p. 115. [38] See the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. ii. p. 170. &c. [39] [The first Horace, the Cicero Epist. ad Familiares, 1469, the Latin Bible by Frisner and Sensenschmidt, 1475 and the Polish Bible of 1563, (all so warmly and so justly eulogised in the above pages) have been reposing these last ten years in the library of Earl Spencer: and magnificent and matchless as is that library, it contains no FINER volumes than the four preceding. I conclude this detail by subjoining the Autographs of the two BIBLIOGRAPHICAL WORTHIES who have cut such a conspicuous figure in the scene above described. The latter is now NO MORE.] [Autographs] LETTER V. MUNICH. CHURCHES. ROYAL PALACE. PICTURE GALLERY. PUBLIC LIBRARY. _Munich; Hôtel of the Black Eagle; Aug. 16, 1818._ MY DEAR FRIEND; Behold me, now, in the capital of Bavaria: in a city remarkable for its bustle, compared with the other German cities which I have visited, and distinguished rather for the general creditable appearance of the houses and public buildings, than for any peculiar and commanding remains of antiquity. But ere I speak of the city, let me detain you for a few seconds only with an account of my journey thither; and of some few particulars which preceded my departure from Augsbourg. It turned out as I predicted. "Ere the set of sun," ensuing my last despatch, I drove to the principal front of this large, comfortless, and dirty inn; and partook of a dinner, in the caffé, interrupted by the incessant vociferations of merchants and traders who had attended the market (it being market day when I arrived), and annoyed beyond measure by the countless swarms of flies, which chose to share my cutlet with me. On taking a farewell look of Augsbourg, my eyes seemed to leave unwillingly those objects upon which I gazed. The Paintings, the Town Hall, the old monastery of Saints Ulric and Afra, all--as I turned round to catch a parting glance--seemed to have stronger claims than ever upon my attention, and to reproach me for the shortness of my visit. However, my fate was fixed--and I now only looked steadily forward to Munich; my imagination being warmed (you will say "inflamed") with the thoughts of the countless folios, in manuscript and in print--including _block-books_, unheard and undreamt of--which had been described to me as reposing upon the shelves of the Royal or PUBLIC LIBRARY. In consequence, Hans Burgmair, Albert Durer, and the Elder Holbein were perfectly forgotten--after we had reached the first stage, and changed horses at _Merching_. From Augsbourg to Munich is but a pleasant and easy drive of about forty-five English miles. The last stage, from _Fürstenfelbruck_ to this place, is chiefly interesting; while the two tall brick towers of the cathedral church of Nôtre Dame keep constantly in view for the last seven or eight miles. A chaussée, bordered on each side by willows, poplars, and limes, brings you--in a tediously straight line of four or five miles--up to the very gates of MUNICH. At first view, Munich looks like a modern city. The streets are tolerably spacious, the houses are architectural, and the different little squares, _or places_, are pleasant and commodious. It is a city of business and bustle. Externally, there is not much grandeur of appearance, even in the palaces or public buildings, but the interiors of many of these edifices are rich in the productions of ancient art;--whether of sculpture, of painting, of sainted relics, or of mechanical wonders. Every body just now is from home; and I learn that the bronzes of the Prince Royal--which are considered to be the finest in Europe--are both out of order and out of view. This gallant Prince loves also pictures and books: and, of the latter, those more especially which were printed by the _Family of Aldus_. Upon the whole, there is something very anglicised in the appearance both of this city and of its inhabitants. Of the latter, I have reason to speak in a manner the most favourable:--as you shall hear by and by. But let me now discourse (which I must do very briefly) of inanimate objects--or works of art--before I come to touch upon human beings ... here in constant motion: and, as it should seem--alternately animated by hope and influenced by curiosity. The population of Munich is estimated at about 50,000. Of course, as before, I paid my first visit to the CATHEDRAL, or mother church of NÔTRE DAME, upon the towers of which I had fixed my eyes for a whole hour on the approach to the city. Both the nave and towers, which are of red brick, are frightful in the extreme; without ornament: without general design: without either meaning or expression of any kind. The towers cannot be less than 350 feet in height: but the tops are mere pepper-boxes. No part of this church, or cathedral, either within or without, can be older than the middle of the fifteenth century.[40] The interior has really nothing deserving of particular description. But I check myself in an instant: It _has_ something--eminently worthy of distinct notice and the most unqualified praise. It has a monument of the EMPEROR Louis IV. which was erected by his great-grandson Maximilian I. Duke of Bavaria, in 1603-12. The designer of this superb mausoleum was _Candit_: the figures are in black marble, the ornaments are in bronze; the latter executed by the famous _Krummper_, of Weilheim. I am ignorant of the name of the sculptor. This monument stands in the centre of the choir, of which it occupies a great portion. It is of a square form, having, at each corner, a soldier, of the size of life, bending on one knee and weeping: supporting, at the same time, a small flag between his body and arm. These soldiers are supposed to guard the ashes of the dead. Between them are three figures, of which two stand back to back. Between these two, somewhat more elevated, is raised the figure of the Emperor Louis IV.--dressed in his full imperial costume. But the two figures, just mentioned, are absolutely incomparable. One of them is _Albert V._ in armour, in his ducal attire:[41] the other is _William V._ habited in the order of the golden fleece. This habit consists of a simple broad heavy garment, up to the neck. The wearer holds a drawn sword in his right hand, which is turned a little to the right. This figure may be full six feet and a half high. The head is uncovered; and the breadth of the drapery, together with the erect position of the figure, and the extension of the sword, gives it one of the most commanding, and even appalling, airs imaginable. I stood before it, till I almost felt inclined to kneel and make obeisance. The entire monument is a noble and consummate specimen of art: and can hardly have any superior, of its kind, throughout Europe. Perhaps I should add that the interior of this Church contains twenty-four large octagonal pillars, dividing the nave from the side aisles: and that around these latter and the choir, there are not fewer than twenty-four chapels, ornamented with the tombs of ancient families of distinction. This interior is about 350 English feet in length, by about 145 in width. Of the other Churches, that of St. MICHAEL, attached to the _late College of the Jesuits_,--now forming the Public Academy or University, and containing the Public Library--is probably the most beautiful for its simplicity of ornament and breadth of parts. Indeed at this moment I can recollect nothing to be put in competition with it, as a comparatively modern edifice. This interior is, as to _Roman_ architecture, what that of St. Ouen is as to _Gothic_: although the latter be of considerably greater extent. It is indeed the very charm of interior architecture: where all the parts, rendered visible by an equal distribution of light, meet the eye at the same time, and tell their own tale. The vaulted roof, full 300 English feet in length, has not a single column to support it. Pilasters of the Corinthian order run along each side of the interior, beneath slightly projecting galleries; which latter are again surmounted by rows of pilasters of the Doric order, terminating beneath the spring of the arched roof. The windows are below the galleries. Statues of prophets, apostles, and evangelists, grace the upper part of the choir--executed from the characteristic designs of Candit. The pulpit and the seats are beautifully carved. Opposite the former, are oratories sustained by columns of red marble; and the approach to the royal oratory is rendered more impressive by a flight of ten marble steps. The founder of this church was William V., who lies buried in a square vault below: near which is an altar, where they shew, on All Saints Day, the brass coffins containing the ashes of the Princes of Bavaria. The period of the completion of this church is quite at the end of the sixteenth century.[42] But ere I quit it, I must not fail to direct your attention to a bronze crucifix in the interior--which is in truth a masterpiece of art. My eye ran over the whole of this interior with increased delight at every survey; and while the ceremony of high mass was performing--and the censers emitted their clouds of frankincense--and the vocal and instrumental sounds of a large congregation pervaded every portion of the edifice--it was with reluctance (but from necessity) that I sought the outward door, to close it upon such a combination of attractions! Of the nine or ten remaining churches, it will not be necessary to notice any other than that of St. CAETAN, built by the Electress Adelaide, and finished about the year 1670. It was built in the accomplishment of a vow. The pious and liberal Adelaide endowed it with all the relics of art, and all the treasures of wealth which she could accumulate. It is doubtless one of the most beautiful churches in Bavaria:--quite of the Italian school of art, and seems to be a St. Peter's at Rome in miniature. The architect was Agostino Barella, of Bologna. This church is in the form of a cross. In the centre is a cupola, sustained by pillars of the Corinthian order. The light comes down from the windows of this cupola in a very mellow manner; but there was, when I saw it, rather a want of light. The nave is vaulted: and the principal altar is beneath the dome, separating the nave from the choir. The façade, or west front, is a building of yesterday, as it were: namely, of 1767; but it is beautiful and striking. This church is considered to be the richest in Munich for its collection of pictures; but nothing that I saw there made me forget, for one moment, the Crucifixion by Hans Burgmair.[43] I should say that the interior of this church is equally distinguished for the justness of its proportions, the propriety of its ornaments, and the neatness of its condition. It is an honour to the city of Munich. There were, some half century ago, about a dozen more churches;--but they have been since either destroyed or _desecrated_. From the Churches, I must conduct you, but in a very rapid manner, to some of the public buildings; reserving, as usual, my last and more leisurely description for the PUBLIC LIBRARY. Of these buildings, the _Hôtel de Ville_, _Theatres_, and _Royal Residence_, are necessarily the most imposing in size, and most attractive from their objects of public utility or amusement. The Royal Palace was built by Maximilian I.--a name as great in the annals of Bavaria, as the same name was in those of Austria about a century before. This palace is of about two centuries standing: and its eastern façade measures 550 English feet in length. It abounds, within and without, with specimens of bronze ornaments: and two bronze lions (the work of Krummper, after the designs of Candit) which support the shields of the Electoral houses of Bavaria and Lorraine, have been considered superior to the Lion in the Place of. St. Mark at Venice. This immense pile of building contains three courts. In that of "the Fountain," to the left, under an arch, is a huge black pebble stone, weighing nearly 400 Bavarian pounds. An old German inscription, of the date of 1489, tells you that a certain Bavarian Duke, called _Christopher the Leaper_, threw this same pebble stone to a considerable distance. Near it, you observe three large nails driven into the wall. The highest of them may be about twelve feet from the ground:--the mark which Christopher the Leaper reached in one of his frolicksome jumps. I find they are lovers of marvellous attainments, in Bavaria:--witness, the supposed feat of the great Emperor Maximilian upon the parapet wall at the top of the cathedral of Ulm.[44] To describe the fountains and bronze figures, in these three courts, would be endless; but they strike you with a powerful degree of admiration--and a survey of every thing about you, is a convincing proof that you have entered a country where they shrink not from solidity and vastness in their architectural achievements: while the lighter, or ornamental parts, are not less distinguished by the grace of their design and the vigour of their execution. Will you believe it--I have not visited, nor shall I have an opportunity of visiting, the _Interior_? An interior, in which I am told that there are such gems, jewels, and varieties--such miracles of nature and of art, as equally baffle description and set competition at defiance. As thus:--a chapel, of which the pavement is mosaic work, composed of amethysts, jaspers, and lapis lazuli: of which the interior of its cupola is composed of lapis lazuli, adorned with gilt bronze: wherein is to be seen a statue of the Virgin, in a drapery of solid gold, with a crown upon her head, composed of diamonds:--a massive golden crucifix, adorned with precious stones--and upon which there is an inscription cut upon an emerald an inch square: again, small altars, supported by columns of transparent amethyst, &c. I will say nothing of two little caskets, studded with cameos and turquoises, in this chapel of fairy land--(built by Maximilian I.) of which one contains two precious pictures by Jean d'Aix la Chapelle--and the other (of massive gold, weighing twenty-four pounds) a painting of the resurrection and of paradise, in enamel. Even the very organ is constructed of gold, silver, ebony, turquois and lapis lazuli ornaments; of pearls and of coral. As to the huge altar of massive silver--adorned with cariatides, candelabra, statues, vases, and bouquets of the same metal--and especially the _pix_, lined with diamonds, rubies, and pearls--what shall I say of these--ALL the fruit of the munificent spirit of MAXIMILIAN? Truly, I would pass over the whole with an indifferent eye, to gaze upon a simple altar of pure gold--the sole ornament of the prison of the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots; which Pope Leo XI. gave to William V. Elector of Bavaria--and which bears the following inscription: EXILII COMES ET CARCERIS IMAGO HAEC MARIAE STUARDAE, SCOT. REG. FUIT, FUISSET ET CAEDIS, SI VIXISSET. Not less marvellous things are told of the _Jewellery_ in this palace of wonders:--among which the BLUE DIAMOND ... attached to the order of the Golden Fleece--which is set open, and which, opposed to the sun, emits rays of the most dazzling lustre,--is said to be the nonpareil of coloured precious stones. It weighs 36 carats and 144 grains. Of the _Pearls_, that called the PALATINAT, half white and half black, is considered the greatest curiosity; but in a cabinet is preserved the choicest of all choice specimens of precious art and precious metals. It is a statue of _St. George and the Dragon_, of the height of about a foot and a half, in pure and solid gold: the horse is agate: the shield is of enamelled gold: the dragon is jasper: the whole being thickly studded with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and pearls--to the number of at least two thousand! Another cabinet contains the crowns of emperors, dukes and.... But you are already dazzled and bewildered; and I must break off the description of this ENCHANTED PALACE. What is of easy access is rarely visited. I asked several of my acquaintance here, whether this spectacle were worth seeing?--and they as frequently replied in the negative as in the affirmative. But the PICTURE GALLERY I _have_ seen, and seen with attention;--although I am not likely to pay it a second visit. I noted down what I saw: and paid particular attention to the progress of art in the early German school of painting. I knew that this collection had long enjoyed a great celebrity: that it had been the unceasing object of several of the old Dukes of Bavaria to enrich it; and that the famous Theodore, equally the admirer of books and of pictures, had united to it the gallery of paintings collected by him at Manheim. It moreover contained the united collections of Deux-Ponts and Dusseldorf. This magnificent collection is arranged in seven large rooms on the same floor. Every facility of access is afforded; and you observe, although not so frequently as at Paris, artists at work in copying the treasures before them. In the entrance-hall, where there is a good collection of books upon the fine arts, are specimens by _Masaccio_, _Garofalo_, _Ghirlandaio_, _Perugino_, _Lucas de Leyden_, _Amberger_, _Wohlgemuth_, _Baldonetti, Aldegrave_, _Quinten Matsys_--with several others, by masters of the same period, clearly denoting the order of time in which they are supposed to have been executed. I was well pleased, in this division of the old school, to recognise specimens of my old friends Hans Burgmair and the Elder Holbein; and wished for no individual at my elbow so much as our excellent friend W.Y. Ottley:--a profound critic in works of ancient art, but more particularly in the early Italian and German Schools. To conduct you through all these apartments, or seven rooms, with the methodical precision of an experienced guide, is equally beyond my inclination and ability. Much as I may admire one or two _Titians_, one or two of the _Caracci_ school, the same number of _Veroneses_ and _Schidones_, and a partial sprinkling of indifferent _Raffaelles_, I should say that the boast of this collection are the pictures by _Rubens and Vandyke_. Of the former there are some excellent portraits; but his two easel pictures--the one, the _Fall of the Damned_, and the other the _Beatitude of the Good_--are marvellous specimens of art. The figures, extending from heaven to earth, in either picture, are linked, or grouped together, in that peculiarly bold and characteristic manner which distinguishes the pencil of the master.[45] The colouring throughout is fresh, but mellow and harmonious. Among the larger pictures by this renowned artist, are _Susanna and the Elders_, and _the Death of Seneca_; the latter considered as a distinguished production. But some of the whole length portraits, by the same hand, pleased me better. The pictures of Rubens occupy more particularly the fourth room. Vandyke shines in the second, sixth, and seventh rooms: in which are some charming whole length portraits--combining, almost, the dignity of Titian with the colouring of Rembrandt:--and yet, more natural in expression, more elegant in attitude, and more beautiful in drawing, than you will find in the productions of either of these latter artists. If the art, whether of sculpture or of painting, take not deep root, and send forth lusty branches laden with goodly fruit, at Munich--the fault can never be in the _soil_, but in the waywardness of the _plant_. There is encouragement from every quarter; as far as the contemplation of art, in all its varieties, and all its magnificence, can be said to be a stimulus to exertion. When the re-action of a few dozen years of peace shall have nearly obliterated the ravages and the remembrance of war--when commerce and civil competition shall have entirely succeeded to exaction and tyranny from a foreign force--(which it now holds forth so auspicious a promise of accomplishing)--and when literature shall revert within its former fruitful channels of enlightening the ignorant, gratifying the learned, and illustrating what is obscure among the treasures of former times--then I think Munich will be a proud and a flourishing city indeed.[46] But more of this subject on a future occasion. Let us take a walk abroad--in the fields, or in the immediate vicinity of the town--for methinks we have both had sufficient in-door occupation of late. One of the principal places of resort, in the immediate vicinity of Munich, is a garden--laid out after the English fashion--and of which the late Count Rumford had the principal direction. It is really a very pleasing, and to my taste, successful effort of art--or rather adaptation of nature. A rapid river, or rivulet (a branch of the _Iser_) of which the colour is a hazy or misty blue, very peculiar--runs under a small bridge which you pass. The bed of the river has a considerable descent, and the water runs so rapidly, as to give you the idea that it would empty itself in a few hours. Yet--"Labitur et labetur in omne volubilis ævum." I strolled frequently in the shady walks, and across the verdant lawns, of this pleasant garden; wherein are also arbour-covered benches, and embowered retreats--haunts of meditation--where ... voices, through the void deep sounding, seize Th'enthusiastic ear! But SKELL must not be deprived of his share of praise in the construction of this interesting pleasure ground. He was the principal active superintendant; and is considered to have had a thorough knowledge of _optical effect_ in the construction of his vistas and lawns. A Chinese pagoda, a temple to Apollo--and a monument to Gessner, the pastoral poet--the two latter embosomed in a wood--are the chief objects of attraction on the score of art. But the whole is very beautiful, and much superior to any thing of the kind which I have seen since leaving England. I told you, at the beginning of this letter, that it was market-day when we arrived here. Mr. Lewis, who loses no opportunity of adding to the stores of his sketch book, soon transferred a group of MARKET PEOPLE to his paper, of which you are here favoured with a highly finished copy. The countenances, as well as the dresses, are strongly indicative of the general character of the German women. [Illustration] I was surprised to be told, the other day, that the city of Munich, although lying upon a flat, apparently of several miles in circumference, is nevertheless situated upon very lofty ground:--full twelve or thirteen hundred feet above the level of the sea--and that the snow-charged blasts, from the Tyrolese mountains, towards the end of autumn, render it at times exceedingly cold and trying to the constitution. But I must now revert to the city, and proceed at once to an account of the most interesting of ALL the public edifices at Munich--in my very humble, and perhaps capricious, estimation. Of course you will instantly catch at what I mean. "What, BUT the edifice which contains THE PUBLIC LIBRARY?" 'Tis wisely conjectured; and to this boundless region of books, of almost every age and description, let us instantly resort: first paying our respects to the Directors and Librarians of the establishment. Of the former, the BARON VON MOLL, and MR. FREDERIC SCHLICHTEGROLL are among the principal: of the latter, Messrs. SCHERER and BERNHARD have the chief superintendence: of all these gentlemen, more in my next.[47] At present, suffice it to say, that I was constantly and kindly attended during my researches by M. Bernhard--who proved himself in the frequent discussions, and sometimes little controversies, which we had together, to be one of the very best bibliographers I had met upon the continent. In the bibliographical lore of the fifteenth century, he has scarcely a superior: and I only regretted my utter ignorance of the German language, which prevented my making myself acquainted with his treatises, upon certain early Latin and German Bibles, written in that tongue. But it was his kindness--his diffidence--his affability, and unremitting attention--which called upon me for every demonstration of a sense of the obligations I was under. It will not be easy for me to forget, either the kind-hearted attentions or the bibliographical erudition of M. Bernhard ... "Quæ me cunque vocant terræ." Be it known to you therefore, my good friend, that the PUBLIC LIBRARY at MUNICH is attached to what was once the _College of Jesuits_; and to which the beautiful church, described in a few preceding pages, belonged. On the suppression of the order of Jesuits, the present building was devoted to it by Charles Theodore in 1784: a man, who, in more than this one sense, has deserved well of his country. Would you believe it? They tell me that there are at least _half a hundred_ rooms filled by books and MSS. of one kind or other--including duplicates--and that they suppose the library contains nearer _four_, than _three hundred thousand volumes_! I scarcely know how to credit this; although I can never forget the apparently interminable succession of apartments--in straight lines, and in rectangular lines: floor upon floor: even to the very summit of the building, beneath the slanting roofs--such as I had seen at Stuttgart. But _here_ it should seem as if every monastery throughout Bavaria had emptied itself of its book-treasures ... to be poured into this enormous reservoir. But I will now begin my labours in good earnest. An oblong, narrow, boudoir-sort of apartment, contains the more precious MSS., the block books, and works printed upon vellum. This room is connected with another, at right angles, (if I remember well) which receives the more valuable works of the fifteenth century--the number of which latter, alone, are said to amount to nearly _twenty thousand_. In such a farrago, there must necessarily be an abundance of trash. These, however, are how under a strict assortment, or classification; and I think that I saw not fewer than half a dozen assistants, under the direction of M. Bernhard, hard at work in the execution of this desirable task. LATIN MS. OF THE GOSPELS; _in small folio_. I have no hesitation in ascribing this MS. to the ninth century. It is replete with evidences of this, or even of an earlier, period. It is executed in capital letters of silver and gold, about a quarter of an inch in height, upon a purple ground. Of course the MS. is upon vellum. The beginning of the text is entirely obliterated; but on the recto of the XVth leaf we read "_Explt Breuiarium_." LATIN MS. of the GOSPELS; in _large folio_. This is a more superb, but more recent, MS. than the preceding. Yet I suspect it to be not much later than the very early part of the eleventh century. It is executed in a large, lower-case, roman letter: somewhat bordering upon the Gothic. But the binding, at the very outset, is too singular and too resplendent to be overlooked. The first side of it has the crucifixion, in a sort of parallelogram frame work--in the centre: surrounded by a double arabesque, or Greek border, of a most beautiful form. The whole is in ivory, of a minute and surprisingly curious workmanship. The draperies partake of the character of late Roman art. Round this central ivory piece of carving, is a square, brass border, with the following inscription; which, from the character of the capital letters, (for it is wholly composed of such) is comparatively quite modern: GRAMMATA QVI QVERIT COGNOSCERE VERE HOC MATHESIS PLENE QVADRATVM PLAVDAT HABERE EN QUI VERACES SOPHIE FULSERE SEQUACES ORNAT PERFECTAM REX HEINRICH STEMMATE SECTAM. In the outer border are precious stones, and portraits, with inscriptions in Greek capital letters. These portraits and inscriptions seem to me to be perfect, but barbarous, specimens of Byzantine art. Around the whole are the titles of the Four Gospels in coeval capital letters. The general effect of this first side of the book-cover, or binding, is perfect--for antiquarian genuineness and costliness. The other side of the binding contains representations of the cardinal virtues, in brass, with the lamb in the centre: but they are comparatively modern. The interior of this book does not quite accord with its exterior. It is in pure condition, in every respect; but the art is rather feeble and barbarous. The titles to the Gospels are executed upon a purple ground. The larger subjects, throughout the illuminations, are executed with freedom, but the touch is heavy and the effect weak. The gold back grounds are rather sound than resplendent. Yet is this MS., upon the whole, a most costly and precious volume. LATIN PSALTER. Probably of the latter part of the twelfth century. The text is executed in a lower-case gothic. In the Calendar of Saints are found the names of Edward the Martyr, Cuthbert, Guthlac, Etheldrith, and Thomas à Becket. I think I am fully justified in calling this one of the richest, freshest, and most highly ornamented PSALTERS in existence. The illuminations are endless, and seem to comprise the whole history of the Bible. In the representations of armour, we observe the semicircular and slightly depressed helmet, and no nasels. I must now lay before you a MS. of a very different description--called The ROMANCE OF SIR TRISTRANT;[48] in verse. This ms. is wholly in the German language; written in the XIIIth century, and containing fifteen illuminations. M. Schérer, the Head Librarian, was so obliging as to furnish me with an account of it; having himself translated, as literally as possible, the original text into our own language. I shall now put together a few miscellaneous notices, taken, like all the preceding, from the articles themselves--and which you will find to relate chiefly to books of Missals and Offices, &c. I shall begin, however, with a highly illuminated MS. called The TWELVE SIBYLS. This beautiful book is doubtless of the XVth century. It begins with a representation of the "_Sibila Persica_." The principal merit of these illuminations may, by some, be thought to consist in their _freshness_; but others will not fail to remark, that the accompaniments of these figures, such as the chairs on which they sit, and the pillars which form the frame work of the pieces, are designed and executed in a style of art worthy of the Florentine School of this period. Every Sibyl is succeeded by a scriptural subject. If the faces of these figures were a little more animated and intelligent, this book would be a charming specimen of art of the XVth century. The _Erythræan Sibyl_ holds a white rose very prettily in her left hand. The _Agrippinian Sibyl_ holds a whip in her left hand, and is said "to have prophesied XXX years concerning the flagellation of Christ." This volume is a thin quarto, in delightful condition; bound in yellow morocco, but a _sufferer_ by the binding. A CALENDAR. This is a pretty little duodecimo volume, containing also short prayers to Christ; and embellished by a representation of the several months in the calendar. Each illumination has a border, and its apposite characteristic subject attached to the month. Among the latter, those of October and November are vigorously touched and warmly finished. A picture of the Deluge follows December. The scription is in a neat roman character. This book is bound in lilac velvet, with silver clasps, and preserved in a yellow morocco case. OFFICE OF THE VIRGIN. An exquisite little octavo or rather duodecimo; bound in silver, with coloured ornaments inlaid. The writing, in small roman, shews an Italian calligraphist. The vellum is white, and of the most beautiful quality. The text is surrounded by flowers, fruits, insects, animals, &c. The initial letters are sparkling, and ornamented in the arabesque manner. But the compositions, or scriptural subjects, are the most striking. Among the more beautiful specimens of high finishing, is the figure of Joseph--with the Virgin and Child--after the subject of the Circumcision. Upon the whole, the colours are probably too vivid. The subjects seem to be copies of larger paintings; and there is a good deal of French feeling and French taste in their composition. The rogue of a binder has shewn his love of cropping in this exquisite little volume. The date of 1574 is upon the binding. MISSAL: beginning with the _Oratio devota ad faciem dni nostri ihu xpi_--A most exquisite volume in 8vo.: bound in black fish skin, with silver clasps of an exceedingly graceful form, washed with gold, and studded with rubies, emeralds, and other coloured stones. The head of Christ, with a globe in his hand, faces the beginning of the text. This figure has a short chin, like many similar heads which I have seen: but the colours are radiant, and the border, in which our Saviour is bearing his cross, below, is admirably executed. The beginning of St. John's Gospel follows. The principal subjects have borders, upon a gray or gold ground, on which flowers are most beautifully painted: and some of the subjects themselves, although evidently of Flemish composition, are most brilliantly executed. There is great nature, and vigour of touch, in the priests chanting, while others are performing the offices of religion. The _Annunciation_ is full of tenderness and richness; and, in the _Christ in the manger_--from whose countenance, while lying upon the straw, the light emanates and shines with such beauty upon the face of the Virgin--we see the origin perhaps of that effect which has conferred such celebrity upon the NOTTE of CORREGIO. What gives such a thorough charm to this book, is, the grace, airiness, and truth of the flowers--scattered, as it were, upon the margins by the hand of a faëry. They have perhaps suffered somewhat by time: but they are truth and tenderness itself. The writing is a large handsome square gothic. OFFICE OF THE VIRGIN: bound in massive silver--highly ornamented, in the arabesque manner, and washed with gold. The back is most ingeniously contrived. But if the exterior be so attractive, the interior is not less so--for such a sweetly, and minutely ornamented, book, is hardly to be seen. The margins are very large and the text is very small: only about fifteen lines, by about one inch and three quarters wide. Upon seeing the margins, M. Schérer, the head-librarian, exclaimed, "I hope that satisfies you!" But they are by no means disproportionate--and the extraordinary colour and quality of the vellum render them enchanting. We come now to the ornaments. These are clusters of small flowers, strung in a pearl-like manner, and formed or grouped into the most pleasing and tasteful shapes. The figures are small, with a well indicated outline. How pretty are the little subjects at the foot of each month of the Calendar! And how totally different from the common-place stiffness, and notorious dullness, of the generality of Flemish pieces of this character! This book has no superior of its kind in Europe; and is worthy, on a small scale, of what we see in the superb folios of Matthias Corvinus.[49] A BOOK OF PRAYERS--almost entirely spoilt by damp and rottenness within. I should think, from the writing and illuminations, it was executed between the years 1450 and 1480. The outside is here the principal attraction. It is a very ancient massive binding, in silver. On each side is a sacred subject; but on that, where the Crucifixion is represented, the figure to the right has considerable expression. At the bottom of each compartment are the arms of Bavaria and of the Dukes of Milan. This is a precious treasure in its way. The present is probably the proper place to notice the _principal gem_--in the department of illuminated books of devotion--preserved in the Royal Library at Munich:--I mean, what is called, ALBERT DURER'S PRAYER BOOK. This consists merely of a set of marginal embellishments in a small folio volume, of which the text, written in a very large lower-case gothic letter, forms the central part. These embellishments are said to be by the hand of ALBERT DURER: although, if I mistake not, there is a similar production, or continuation, by LUCAS CRANACH. They are executed in colours of bistre, green, purple, or pink; with a very small portion of shadow--and apparently with a reed pen. Nothing can exceed the spirit of their conception, the vigour of their touch, and the truth both of their drawing and execution. They consist chiefly of _capriccios_, accompanied by the figure or figures of four Saints, &c. They afford one addition to the very many proofs, which I have already seen, of the surprising talents of Albert Durer: and, if I remember rightly; this very volume has been lithographised at Munich, and published in our own country.[50] Descending lower in the chronological order of my researches, I now come to the notice of four very splendid and remarkable folio volumes, comprising only the text of the SEVEN PENITENTIAL PSALMS: and which exhibit extraordinary proofs of the united skill of the _Scribe_, the _Musician_, the _Painter_, and the _Book Binder_--all engaged in the execution of these volumes. Of each of these artists, there is a PORTRAIT; but among them, none please my fancy so much as that of GASPAR RITTER, the book-binder. All these portraits are executed in body colour, in a slight but bold manner, and appear to me to be much inferior to the general style of art in the smaller and historical compositions, illustrative of the text of the book. But Gaspar Ritter well merits a distinct notice; for these volumes display the most perfect style of binding, which I have yet seen, of the sixteenth century. They are in red morocco, variegated with colours, and secured by clasps. Every thing about them is firm, square, knowing and complete. The artist, or painter, to whom these volumes are indebted for their chief attraction, was John MIELICH; a name, of which I suspect very little is known in England. His portrait bears the date of 1570. Looking fairly through these volumes--not for the sake of finding fault, or of detecting little lapses from accuracy of drawing, or harmony of composition--I do not hesitate one moment to pronounce the series of embellishments, which they contain, perfectly unrivalled--as the production of the same pencil. Their great merit consists in a prodigious freedom of touch and boldness of composition. The colouring seems to be purposely made subordinate. Figures the most minute, and actions the most difficult to express, are executed in a ready, off-hand manner, strongly indicative, of the masterly powers of the artist. The subjects are almost interminable in number, and endless in variety. I shall now proceed at once to an account of the xylographical productions, or of BLOCK BOOKS in the public library of this place; and shall begin with a work, of which (according to my present recollection) no writer hath yet taken notice. It is a _Life of Christ_, in small quarto, measuring scarcely five inches by four. The character of the type is between that of Pfister and the Mazarine Bible, although rather more resembling the latter. Each side of the leaf has text, or wood cut embellishments. The first eight pages contain fifteen lines in a page: the succeeding two pages only thirteen lines; but the greater number of the pages have fourteen lines. It is precisely the dotted ground, in the draperies, that impresses me with a notion of the antiquity of these cuts. Such a style of art is seen in all the earlier efforts of wood engraving, such as the _St. Bernardinus_ belonging to M. Van-Praet, and the prints pasted within the covers of Mr. George Nicol's matchless copy of the Mazarine Bible, upon vellum, in its original binding.[51] M. Bernhard also shewed me, from his extraordinary collection of early prints, taken from the old MS. volumes in this library, several of this precise character; and to which we may, perhaps with safety, assign the date of 1460 at the latest. I have been particular in the account of this curious little volume, not so much because it is kept in a case, and considered to be _unique_, as because, to the best of my recollection, no account of it is to be found in any bibliographical publication. EXHORTATION AGAINST THE TURKS, &c.: of the supposed date of 1455. This is the singular tract, of which Baron Aretin (the late head librarian of this establishment) published an entire fac-simile; and which, from the date of M.cccc.lv appearing at the bottom line of the first page, was conceived to be of that period. M. Bernhard, however,--in an anonymous pamphlet--proved, from some local and political circumstances introduced, or referred to, in the month of _December_--in the Calendar attached to this exhortation--that the _genuine_ date should rather be 1472. This brochure is also considered to be unique. It is a small quarto, of six leaves only, of which the first leaf is blank. The type is completely in the form of that of Pfister, and the paper is unusually thick. At the bottom of the first leaf it is observed, in ms. "_Liber eximiæ raritatis et inter cimelia bibliothecæ asservandus. F. Er_." ARS MEMORANDI, &c. Here are not fewer than _five copies_ of this well known--and perhaps first--effort of block-book printing. These are of the earliest dates, yet with trifling variations. The wood cuts in all the copies are coloured; some more heavily than others; and in one of them you observe, in the figure of St. Matthew, that red or crimson glossy wash, or colour, so common in the earliest prints--and which is here carried over the whole figure. One of these five copies is unbound. ARS MORIENDI. Here are two editions, of which one copy is indisputably the most ancient--like that in Lord Spencer's library,[52]--but of a considerably larger size, in quarto. There can be no doubt of the whole of this production being xylographical. Unluckily this fine copy has the first and last pages of text in ms. The other pages, with blank-reverses, are faintly impressed in brown ink: especially the first, which seems to be injured. A double-line border is round each page. This copy, which is bound in blue morocco, has also received injury from a stain. I consider the second copy, which is bound in red morocco, to be printed with moveable _metal_ types. The ink is however of a palish brown. I never saw another copy of this latter impression. BIBLIA PAUPERUM. _In Latin_. I doubt whether this be the first edition; but at any rate it is imperfect. _In German_: with the date of 1470. Here are two copies; of which I was anxious to obtain the duplicate (the largest and uncoloured,) for the library in St. James's Place; but the value fixed upon it was too high; indeed a little extravagant. The APOSTLES CREED. _In German_. Only seven leaves, but pasted together--so that, the work is an opistographised production. This is a very rare, and indeed unique volume; and utterly unknown to bibliographers. Each cut is about the same size, and there are twelve in the whole. There is no other text but the barbarous letters introduced at the bottom of the cut. MIRABILIA URBIS ROMÆ. Another generally unknown xylographic performance; printed in the German language: being a small quarto. I have secured a duplicate of this singular volume for Lord Spencer's library, intending to describe it in the _Ædes Althorpianæ_.[53] The LIFE OF ST. MEINRAT; _in German_, in a series of wood-cut representations. This Saint was murdered by two men, whose Christian names were Peter and Richard, and who were always afterwards haunted by a couple of crows. There is a German introduction of two pages, preceding the cuts. These cuts are forty-eight in number. At the thirtieth cut, the Saint is murdered; the earlier series representing the leading events of his life. The thirty-first cut represents the murderers running away; an angel being above them; In the thirty-second cut, they continue to be pursued. The thirty-third cut thus describes them; the German and the version being as follow; "_Hie furt man die mord vo danne un wil schleisse vn redern die rappen volget alle zit hin nach vn stechet sy_." "Here they bring the murderers, in order to drag them upon the hurdle to execution, and to break them upon the wheel. The crows follow and peck them." In the thirty-fourth cut Peter and Richard are tied and dragged at the heels, of a horse. In the thirty-fifth they are broken upon the wheel. The _Calendar of Regiomontanus_--A decidedly xylographical production; the first date is 1475, the last 1525. A fine sound copy, but cropt. In a duplicate copy the name of the mathematician is given at the end. CANTICA CANTICORUM. First edition. A beautiful copy; cropt, but clean. Sixteen cuts, uncoloured. The leaves have been evidently pasted together. Another copy, coloured; but of a later date. In fine preservation. A third copy; apparently the first edition; washed all over with a slight brown tint, and again coarsely coloured in parts: This copy singularly enough, is intermixed with portions of the first edition (as I take it) of the _Apocalypse_: very clumsily coloured. A fourth copy, also, as I conceive, of the first edition; rather heavily coloured. The back grounds are uncoloured. This is larger than the other copies. DEFENSIO IMMACULATÆ CONCEPTIONIS B.M.V. _Without place; of the date of 1470_. This is a Latin treatise; having four cuts in each page, with the exception of the first two pages, which exhibit only Saints Ambrose, Austin, Jerom and Gregory. At the bottom of the figure of St. Austin, second column, first page, it is thus written; "_f.w. 1470_." In the whole sixteen pages. The style of art is similar to that used in the Antichrist.[54] Of this tract, evidently xylographical, I never saw or heard of another copy. The foregoing list may be said to comprise the _chief rarities_ among the BLOCK BOOKS in the Public Library at Munich; and if I am not mistaken, they will afford no very unserviceable supplement to the celebrated work of Heineken upon the same subject. From this department in the art of printing, we descend naturally to that which is connected with metal types; and accordingly I proceed to lay before you another list of _Book-Rarities_--taken from the earlier _printed volumes_ in this most extraordinary Library. We will begin with the best and most ancient of all Books:--the BIBLE. They have a very singular copy of what is called the _Mazarine edition_: or rather the parent impression of the sacred text:--inasmuch as it contains (what, I believe, no other copy in Europe contains, and therefore M. Bernhard properly considers it as unique) _four printed leaves of a table_, as directions to the Rubricator. At the end of the Psalter is a ms. note thus: "_Explicit Psalterium, 61_." This copy is in other respects far from being desirable, for it is cropt, and in very ordinary calf binding. _Mentelin's German Bible_. Here are two copies of this first impression of the Bible in the German language: both of which have distinct claims to render them very desirable. In the one is an inscription, in the German language, of which M. Bernhard supplied me with the following literal version: "_Hector Mulich and Otilia his wife; who bought this Bible in the year of Our Lord, 1466, on the twenty-seventh day of June, for twelve florins_." Their arms are below. The whole is decidedly a coeval inscription. Here, therefore, is another testimony[55] of the printing of this Bible at least as early as the year 1466. At the end of the book of Jeremiah, in the same copy, is a ms. entry of 1467; "_sub Papa Paulo Secundo et sub Imperatore Frederico tertio_." The second copy of this edition, preserved in the same library, has a German ms. memorandum, executed in red ink, stating that this edition is "_well translated, without the addition of a single word, faithful to the Latin: printed at Strasbourg with great care_." This memorandum is doubtless of the time of the publication of the edition; and the Curators of the library very judiciously keep both copies. A third, or triplicate copy, of Mentelin's edition--much finer than either of the preceding--and indeed abounding with rough edges--was purchased by me for the library in St. James's place; but it was not obtained for a sum beneath its full value.[56] Here is a copy of _Eggesteyn's Latin Bible_, containing forty-five lines in a full page, with the important date of "_24th May, 1466_"--in a coeval ms. memorandum. Thus, you see, here is a date two years earlier[57] than that in a copy of the same Bible in the Public Library at Strasbourg; and I think, from hence, we are well warranted in supposing that both Mentelin and Eggesteyn had their presses in full play at Strasbourg in 1466--if not earlier. This copy of Eggesteyn's first Bible, which is in its original binding of wood, is as fine and large as it is precious. I shall continue, miscellaneously, with the earlier printed books. _T. Aquinas de Virtutibus et Vitiis_; printed by _Mentelin_ in his smallest character. At the end, there is the following inscription, in faded green ink; _Johannes Bamler de Augusta hui^9 libri Illuiator Anno 1468_. Thus Bamler should seem to be an illuminator as well as printer,[58] and Panzer is wrong in supposing that Bamler _printed_ this book. Of course Panzer formed his judgment from a copy which wanted such accidental attestation. _Ptolemy_, 1462: with all the maps, coloured. _Livy_ (1469): very fine--in its original binding--full sixteen inches high. _Cæsar_, 1469: very fine, in the original binding. _Lucan_, 1469: equally fine, and coated in the same manner. _Apuleius_, 1469: imperfect and dirty. The foregoing, you know, are all EDITIONES PRINCIPES. But judge of my surprise on finding neither the first edition of _Terence_, nor of _Valerius Maximus_, nor of _Virgil_[59]--all by Mentelin. I enquired for the first _Roman_ or _Bologna Ovid_: but in vain. It seemed that I was enquiring for "blue diamonds;"[60]--so precious and rare are these two latter works. Here are very fine copies of the _Philosophical works of Cicero, printed by Ulric Han_--with the exception of the Tusculan Questions and the treatise upon Oratory, of the dates of 1468, 1469--which are unluckily wanting. M. Bernhard preserves _four_ copies of the _Euclid_ of 1482, because they have printed variations in the margins. One of these copies has the prefix, or preface of one page, printed in letters of gold. I saw another such a copy at Paris. Here is the _Milan Horace of 1474_--the text only. The _Catholicon by Gutenberg, of 1460_: UPON VELLUM: quite perfect as to the text, but much cropt, and many pieces sliced out of the margins--for purposes, which it were now idle to enquire after; although I have heard of a Durandus of 1459 in our own country, which, in ancient times, had been so served for the purpose of writing directions on parcels of game, &c. _Catholicon of 1469 by G. Zeiner_; also UPON VELLUM, and equally cropt--but otherwise sound and clean. This copy contains an ancient manuscript note which must be erroneous; as it professes the first owner to have got possession of the book before it was _printed_: in other words, an _unit_ was omitted in the date, and we should read 1469 for 1468.[61] Among the more precious ITALIAN BOOKS, is a remarkably fine copy of the old edition of the _Decameron of Boccaccio_, called the _Deo Gracias_--which Lord Spencer purchased at the sale of the Borromeo library in London, last year. It is quite perfect, and in a fine, large condition. It was taken to Paris on a certain memorable occasion, and returned hither on an occasion equally memorable. It contains 253 leaves of text and two of table; and has red ms. prefixes. It came originally from the library of Petrus Victorius, from which indeed there are many books in this collection, and was bought by the King of Bavaria at Rome. What was curious, M. Bernhard shewed me a minute valuation of this very rare volume, which he had estimated at 1100 florins--somewhere about £20. below the price given by Lord Spencer for his copy, of which four leaves are supplied by ms. Here is a magnificent copy of the _Dante of 1481_, with XX CUTS; the twentieth being precisely similar to that of which a fac-simile appears in the B.S. This copy was _demanded_ by the library at Paris, and xix. cuts only were specified in the demand; the twentieth cut was therefore secreted, from another copy--which other copy has a duplicate of the first cut, pasted at the end of the preface. The impressions of the cuts, in the copy under description, are worthy of the condition of the text and of the amplitude of the margins. It is a noble book, in every point of view. I was shewn a great curiosity by this able bibliographer; nothing less than a sheet, or _broadside_, containing _specimens of types from Ratdolf's press_. This sheet is in beautiful preservation, and is executed in double columns. The first ten specimens are in the _gothic_ letter, with a gradually diminishing type. The last is thus: _Hunc adeas mira quicunq: volumina queris Arte uel ex animo pressa fuisse tuo Seruiet iste tibi: nobis (sic) iure sorores Incolumem seruet vsq: rogare licet._ This is succeeded by three gradually diminishing specimens of the printer's _roman_ letter. Then, four lines of Greek, in the Jensonian or Venetian character: next, in large black letter, as below.[62] But a still greater curiosity, in my estimation, was a small leaf; by way of _advertisement_, containing a list of publications issuing from the press of a printer whose name has not yet been discovered, and attached apparently to a copy of the _Fortalitium Fidei_; in which it was found. Luckily there was a duplicate of this little broadside--or advertisement--and I prevailed upon the curators, or rather upon M. Bernhard (whose exclusive property it was) to part with this Sibylline leaf, containing only nineteen lines, for a copy of the _Ædes Althorpianæ-- _as soon as that work should be published.[63] Of course, this is secured for the library in St. James's Place. I am now hastening to the close of this catalogue of the Munich book-treasures. You remember my having mentioned a sort of oblong cabinet, where they keep the books PRINTED UPON VELLUM--together with block books, and a few of the more ancient and highly illuminated MSS. I visited this cabinet the first thing on entering--and the last thing on leaving--the Public Library. "Where are your _Vellum Alduses_, good Mr. Bernhard?" said I to my willing and instructive guide. "You shall see only _two_ of them"--(rejoined he) but from these you must not judge of the remainder. So saying, he put into my hands the _first editions of Horace and Virgil_, each of 1501, and bound in one volume, in old red morocco. They were gems--almost of the very first order, and--almost of their original magnitude: measuring six inches and three eighths, by three inches and seven eighths. They are likewise sound and clean: but the Virgil is not equal to Lord Spencer's similar copy, in whiteness of colour, or beauty of illumination. Indeed the illuminations in the Munich copy are left in an unfinished state. In the ardour of the moment I talked of these two precious volumes being worth "120 louis d'or." M.B. smiled gently, as he heard me, and deliberately returned the volumes to their stations--intimating, by his manner, that not thrice that sum should dispossess the library of such treasures. I have lost my memoranda as to the number of these vellum Alduses; but the impression upon my mind is, that they have not more than _six_. Of course, I asked for a VELLUM _Tewrdanckhs_ of 1517, and my guide forthwith placed _two_ MEMBRANACEOUS copies of this impression before me:--adding, that almost every copy contained variations, more or less, in the text. Indeed I found M.B. "doctissimus" upon this work; and I think he said that he had published upon it as well as Camus.[64] This is about the ninety-ninth time that I have most sensibly regretted my utter ignorance, of the language (German) in which it pleaseth M. Bernhard to put forth his instructive bibliographical lucubrations. Of these two copies, one has the cuts coloured, and is very little cropt: the other has the cuts uncoloured, and is decidedly cropt. With the Tewrdanckhs, I take my leave both of the public library of Munich and (for the present) of its obliging and well-informed Second Librarian. But I must not leave this WORLD OF BOOKS without imparting to you the satisfaction which I felt on witnessing half a dozen grave-looking scribes employed, chiefly under the direction of M. Bernhard, in making out a classed catalogue of _Fifteeners_--preparatory to the sale of their Duplicates. This catalogue will be important in many respects; and I hope to see it in my own country within two years from the date of the present epistle.[65] And now methinks it is high time to put the concluding paragraph to this said epistle--so charged with bibliographical intelligence respecting the capital of Bavaria. You must give it more than _one_ perusal if you wish to digest it thoroughly. My next, within forty-eight hours hereof, will leave me on the eve of departure from hence. In the meanwhile, prepare for some pleasant BOOK TIDINGS in my ensuing despatch. [40] Both the nave and towers appear in Hartmann Schedel's view of Munich, in the _Nuremberg Chronicle_ of 1493: see fol. ccxxvi. The "pepper-box" terminations are, I conceive, of a later date. [41] I take this to be the famous Albert who died in 1500; and who, in Schedel's time, kept lions for his disport--at Munich: "qui sua magnificentia plures nutrit leones" _Chron. Norimb._ 1493. _Ibid._ [42] The steeple fell down in the year 1599, and has never been rebuilt. [43] See p. 87 ante. [44] See p. 66 ante. [45] [Sir J. Reynolds criticised these pictures when they were in the _Dusseldorf Gallery_: but I cannot just now lay my hand upon his remarks.] [46] [It has made, and is yet making, great strides towards the accomplishment of the above-mentioned objects--since the above passage was written.] [47] [With the exception of the first, (although I do not make this exception with _confidence_) all the above-named gentlemen have CEASED TO EXIST. Mr. Bernhard I believe died before the publication of the preceding edition of this work: and I add, with perfect sincerity, that _his_ decease, and that of _M. Adam Bartsch_ (vide post) were, to me, among the bitterest regrets which I ever experienced in my intercourse with foreign literati. [48] The able editor of the Romance of Sir TRISTREAM, ascribed to Thomas of Ercildoune, appears to have been entirely ignorant of the existence of this highly curious and coeval German version. I regret that I am unable to give the reader a complete analysis of the whole. From this account, I select the following very small portion--of fidelity of version--with a fac-simile of one of the Embellishments. So all his thoughts were wavering: _Wilen abe vn wilent an_-- One while above, and one while down, _Er tet wol an im selben schin_ He truly on himself made shew, _Daz der minnende mot_ That an amorous mind behaves _Reht als der vrie fogel tot_ Even as the bird in the open air, _Der durch die friheit dier hat_ Who, by the liberty he enjoys, _Vf daz gelimde twi gestat_ Slightly sits on the lime-twig down; _Als er des limes danne entsebet_ As soon as he the lime descrys, _Vnd er sieh vf ze fluhte hebet_ And rises up to fly in haste, _So chlebet er mit den fossen an_. His feet are clinging to the twig. This simile of the bird seems expressed in the illumination, of which the outline has been faithfully copied by Mr. Lewis: [Illustration] [49] See page 33 ante. [50] It appeared in the year 1808, and was sold for 2l. 12s. 6d. But a blank space was left in the middle--which, in the original, is occupied by a heavy gothic text. The publication of the continuation by Lucas Cranach appeared in 1818. [51] Now in the Collection of Henry Perkins, Esq. [52] See _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. i. p. xv-xxiii. where fac-similes of some of the cuts will be found. [53] Where it is fully described, in vol. ii. p. 188, &c. with fac-similes of the type and ornaments. An entire page of it is given at p. 189. [54] See _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. i. p. xxxi. [55] A copy in the public library at Stuttgart has a ms. memorandum in which the same dominical date is entered. See note, at page 21 ante. [56] It must be mentioned, however, that a fine copy of the _German edition of Breydenbach's Travels, of 1486_, was given into the bargain. [57] In the _Bibl. Spencer_, vol. i. p. 38-9--where a fac-simile of the type of this edition is given--the impression is supposed to have been executed in "the year 1468 at latest." The inscription of 1468 in the Strasbourg copy (see vol. ii. p. 404.) should seem at least to justify the caution of this conclusion. But, from the above, we are as justified in assigning to it a date of at least two years earlier. [58] Lord Spencer possesses a copy of _St. Austin de Civitate Dei_, with the Commentary of Trivetus, printed by Mentelin, which was also illuminated by Bamler in the same year as above--1468. The memorandum to this effect, by Bamler, is given in the _Ædes Althorpianæ_; vol. ii. p. 20. [59] I will not say _positively_ that the VIRGIL is _not_ there; but I am pretty sure of the absence of the two preceding works. My authority was, of course, the obliging and well informed M. Bernhard. [60] See page 115 ante. [61] The inscription is this: "_Anno dni Millesimo cccc^o lxviij^o. Conparatus est iste Katholicon tpe Iohis Hachinger h^{9} ccclie p tunc imeriti pptti. p. xlviij Aureis R flor^{9} taxatus p. H xxi faciunt in moneta Vsuali xlvj t d_." So that it seems a copy of this work, upon vellum, was worth at the time of its publication, _forty-six golden florins_. [62] _Indicis characterum diversarum manerieru impressioni parataru: Finis. Erhardi Ratdolt Augustensis viri solertissimi: preclaro ingenio & mirifica arte: qua olim Venetijs excelluit celebratissimus. In imperiali nunc vrbe Auguste vindelicorum laudatissime impressioni dedit. Annoq; salutis_ M.CCCC.LXXXXVI. _Cale Aprilis Sidere felici compleuit_. [63] An admirably executed fac-simile of the above curious document appears in the work here referred to: vol. ii. p. 131--where the subject of its probable printer is gone into at considerable length. [64] The reader, if he have leisure and inclination, may consult a long note in the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. 201, respecting the best authorities to be consulted upon the above very splendid and distinguished performance. Camus is included in the list of authorities referred to. [65] Seven years have elapsed since the above was written, but no CLASSED CATALOGUE of any portion of the Public Library of Munich has appeared in this country. Speaking of _duplicates_, not printed in the fifteenth century, it may be worth observing that they have at Munich not fewer than six copies (double the number of those at Strasbourg;) of the ACTA SANCTORUM; good handsome copies in vellum binding. [Since the first edition of this Tour was published, several copies of this stupendous, but unfortunately imperfect work, have been imported into England: among which, however, none, to my recollection, have found their way from MUNICH. Indeed, the heavy expense of carriage is almost an interdiction: unless the copies were obtained at very moderate prices.] LETTER VI. FURTHER BOOK-ACQUISITIONS. SOCIETY. THE ARTS. The bright bibliographical star, which shone upon me at Stuttgart, has continued to shine with the same benign lustre at this place. "[Greek: _Heurêka Heurêka_]"!--the scarcest and brightest of all the ALDINE GEMS has been found and secured by me: that gem, for which M. Renouard still continues to sigh and to rave, alternately, in despair of a _perfect_ copy; and which has, only very recently, been placed among the most brilliant ornaments of the Royal Library at Paris.[66] What may these strange exclamations and inuendos imply?--methinks I hear you say. You shall know in a trice--which just brings me to the very point with which my previous epistle concluded. Those "pleasant book-tidings," referred to in my last, and postponed for the present opportunity, are "as hereafter followeth." In my frequent conversations with the Guardians of the Public Library, I learnt that one STOEGER, a bookseller chiefly devoted to the purchase and sale of _Aldine_ volumes, resided in this metropolis; that his abode was rather private than public; and that his "magasin" was lodged on the second or third floor, in a row of goodly houses, to the right, on entering the city. M. Bernhard added, that Mr. Stoeger had even a copy of the first Aldine edition of the _Greek hours_ (printed in 1497)--which is the very gem above alluded to; "but (observed my intelligent informant, as he accompanied me to the door of the bookseller in question) "he will not part with it: for both the Prince Royal and our Public Library have been incessant in their importunities to possess it. He sets an extravagant price upon it." Having been instructed from early youth, "never to take that for _granted_ which remained to be _proved_," I thanked the worthy M. Bernhard for his intelligence; and, wishing him a good morning, entered the chamber of Mr. Stoeger. I had previously heard (and think that I have before made mention) of the eagerness with which the Prince Royal of Bavaria purchases _Alduses_; and own, that, had I chosen to reflect one little minute, I might have been sufficiently disheartened at any reasonable prospect of success, against two such formidable opponents as the Prince and the Public Library. However, in cases of emergency, 'tis better to think courageously and to act decisively. I entered therefore the chamber of this Aldine bookseller, resolved upon bearing away the prize--"coute qu'il coute"--provided that prize were not absolutely destined for another. M. Stoeger saluted me formally but graciously. He is a short, spare man, with a sharp pair of dark eyes, and speaks French with tolerable fluency. We immediately commenced a warm bibliographical discussion; when Mr. Stoeger, all of a sudden, seemed to raise himself to the height of six feet--gave three strides across the room--and exclaimed, "Well, Sir; the cabinet of my Lord Spencer wants something which I possess in yonder drawer." I told him that I knew what it was he alluded to; and, with the same decision with which I seemed to bespeak the two Virgils at Stuttgart, I observed, that "_that_ want would soon cease; for that ere I quitted the room, the book in question would doubtless become the property of the nobleman whom he had just mentioned." Mr. Stoeger, for three seconds, was lost in astonishment: but instinctively, as it were; he approached the drawer: opened it: and shewed me an unbound, sombre-looking, but sound and perfect copy of the _first edition_ of the GREEK HOURS, _printed by Aldus_. As I had among my papers a collation of the perfect copy at Paris, I soon discovered that Mr. Stoeger's copy was also complete; and ... in less than fifteen minutes I gained a _complete victory_ over the Prince Royal of Bavaria and the corps bibliographique of Messrs. Von Moll, Schlichtegroll, Schérer, Bernhard, &c.--the directors and guardians of the Public Library at Munich. In other words, this tiny book, measuring not quite four inches, by not quite three, was _secured_--for the cabinet in question--at the price of * * florins!! The vender, as I shrewdly suspect, had bought it of a brother bookseller at Augsbourg,[67]of the name of KRANSFELDER (a worthy man; whom I visited--but with whom I found nothing but untransportable Latin and German folios) for ... peradventure only the _hundredth part_ of the sum which he was now to receive. What shall we say? The vender is designated by Mr. Schlichtegroll, in the preface of the last sale catalogue of the duplicates of the Public Library (1815, 8vo.) as "bibliopola honestissimus"--and let us hope that he merits the epithet. Besides, books of this excessive rarity are objects of mere caprice and fancy. To return to this "bibliopola honestissimus," I looked out a few more tempting articles, of the Aldine character,[68] and receiving one or two as a douceur; in the shape a present, settled my account with Mr. Stoeger ... and returned to my lodging more and more confirmed in the truth of the position of "not taking _that_ for granted which remained to be _proved_." The whole of this transaction was, if I may so speak, in the naughty vanity of my heart, a sort of _octodecimo_ illustration of the "VENI, VIDI, VICI" of a certain illustrious character of antiquity. Of a very different character from this _Aldine bibliopolist_ is a bookseller of the name of VON FISCHHEIM: the simplest, the merriest, the most artless of his fraternity. It was my good friend Mr. Hess (of whom I shall presently speak somewhat more at large) who gave me information of his residence. "You will find there (added he) all sorts of old books, old drawings, pictures, and curiosities." What a provocative for an immediate and incessant attack! I took my valet with me--for I was told that Mr. Von Fischheim could not speak a word of French--and within twenty minutes of receiving the information, found myself in the dark and dreary premises of this same bibliopolist. He lives on the first floor; but the way thither is almost perilous. Mr. Fischheim's cabinet of curiosities was crammed even to suffocation; and it seemed as if a century had elapsed since a vent-hole had been opened for the circulation of fresh air. I requested the favour of a pinch of snuff from Mr. Fischheim's box, to counteract all unpleasant sensations arising from effluvia of a variety of description--but I recommend English visitors in general to _smoke a segar_ while they rummage among the curiosities of Mr. Fischheim's cabinet! Old Tom Hearne might here, in a few minutes, have fancied himself ... any thing he pleased! The owner of these miscellaneous treasures wore one unvarying smile upon his countenance during the whole time of my remaining with him. He saw me reject this, and select that; cry "pish" upon one article, and "bravo" upon another--with the same settled complacency of countenance. His responses were short and pithy, and I must add, pleasant: for, having entirely given up all hopes of securing any thing in the shape of a good picture, a good bust, or a genuine illumination from a rich old MS., I confined myself strictly to printed books--and obtained some very rare, precious, and beautifully-conditioned volumes upon most reasonable and acceptable terms.[69] Having completed my purchase, the books were sent to the hotel by a shopman, in the sorriest possible garb, but who wore, nevertheless, a mark of military distinction in his button-hole. From henceforth I can neither think, nor speak, but with kindness of Paul Ludwig Von Fischheim, the simplest, the merriest, and most artless of his fraternity. The day following this adventure, I received a note informing me that a person, practising physic, but also a collector and seller of old books, would be glad to see me in an adjoining street. He had, in particular, some "RARE OLD BIBLES." Another equally stimulant provocative! I went, saw, and... returned--with scarcely a single trophy. Old Bibles there were--but all of too recent a date: and all in the _Latin_ language. Yet I know not how it was, but I suffered myself to be prevailed upon to give some twenty florins for a doubtfully-printed _Avicenna_, and a _Biblia Historica Moralisata_. Had I yielded to further importunities, or listened to further information, I might have filled the large room in which I am now sitting--and which is by much the handsomest in the hotel[70]--with oak-bound folios, vellum-clad quartos, and innumerable broadsides. But I resisted every entreaty: I had done sufficient--at least for the first visit to the capital of Bavaria. And doubtless I have good reason to be satisfied with these Bavarian book-treasures. There they all lie; within as many strides of me as Mr. Stoeger took across the room; while, more immediately within reach, and eyed with a more frequent and anxious look, repose the _Greek Hours_, the _first Horace_, the _Mentelin German Bible_, and the _Polish Protestant Bible_; all--ALL destined for the cabinet of which Mr. Stoeger made such enthusiastic mention. A truce now to books, and a word or two about society. I arrived here at a season when Munich is considered to be perfectly empty. None of the noblesse; no public gaieties; no Chargé d'Affaires--all were flown, upon the wings of curiosity or of pleasure towards the confines of Italy. But as my business was rather with Books and bookmen, I sought chiefly the society of the latter, nor was I disappointed. I shall introduce them one by one. First therefore for the BARON VON MOLL; one of the most vivacious and colloquial of gentlemen; and who perhaps has had more to do with books than any one of his degree in Bavaria. I know not even if he have not had two or more monastic libraries to dispose of--which descended to him as ancestral property. I am sure he talked to me of more than one chateau, or country villa, completely filled with books; of which he meditated the disposal by public or private sale. And this, too--after he had treated with the British Museum through the negotiation of our friend the Rev. Mr. Baber, for two or three thousand pounds worth of books, comprehending, chiefly, a very valuable theological collection. The Baron talked of twenty thousand volumes being here and there, with as much sang-froid and certainty as Bonaparte used to talk of disposing of the same number of soldiers in certain directions. The other Sunday afternoon I accompanied him to one of his villas, in the direct road from Munich--near which indeed I had passed in my route hither. Or, rather, speaking more correctly the Baron accompanied me:--as he bargained for my putting a pair of post-horses to my carriage. He wished me to see his books, and his rural domain. The carriage and burden were equally light, and the road was level and hard. We therefore reached the place of our destination in a short hour. It was a very pleasant mansion, with a good garden, and several fertile fields of pasture and arable land. The Baron made it his summer residence. His books filled the largest room in the house. He invited me to look around, to select any volumes that I might fancy, provided they were not grammatical or lexicographical--for, in that department, he never wished his strength to be diminished, or his numbers to be lessened. I did as he desired me: culled a pretty book-posey;--not quite so blooming as that selected at Lincoln,[71] some dozen years ago,--and, as the sun was setting, voted the remainder of the evening, till supper-time, to a walk with the Baron upon the neighbouring heights. The evening was fair and mild, and the Baron was communicative and instructive. His utterance is rapid and vehement; but with a tone of voice and mode of action by no means uninteresting. We talked about the possession of Munich by the French forces, under the command of Moreau, and he narrated some particulars equally new and striking. Of Moreau, he spoke very handsomely; declaring him to have been a modest, grave, and sensible man--putting his great military talents entirely out of the question. The Baron himself, like every respectable inhabitant of Munich, was put under military surveillance. Two grenadiers and a petty officer were quartered upon him. He told me a curious anecdote about Bonaparte and Marshal Lasnes--if I remember rightly, upon the authority of Moreau. It was during the crisis of some great battle in Austria, when the fate of the day was very doubtful, that Bonaparte ordered Lasnes to make a decisive movement with his cavalry; Lasnes seemed to hesitate. Bonaparte reiterated the order, and Lasnes appeared to hesitate again--as if doubting the propriety of the movement. Bonaparte eyed him with a look of ineffable contempt; and added--almost fixing his teeth together, in a hissing but biting tone of sarcasm--"_Est-ce que je t'ai fait trop riche?_" Lasnes dashed his spurs into the sides of his charger, turned away, and prepared to put the command of his master into execution. So much for the Baron Von Moll. The name of SCHLICHTEGROLL was frequently mentioned in my last letter. It is fitting, therefore, that you should know something of the gentleman to whom this name appertains. Mr. F. Schlichtegroll is the Director in Chief of the Public Library at Munich. I was introduced to him in a room contiguous to that where they keep their models of public buildings--such as bridges, barriers, fortifications, &c. which are extremely beautiful and interesting. The director received me in the heartiest manner imaginable; and within five minutes of our first salutation, I found his arm within my own, as we walked up and down the room--discoursing about first editions, block-books, and works printed upon vellum. He was delighted to hear of my intention to make a vigorous attack, with pen, ink, and paper, upon the oblong cabinet of _Fifteeners_ and precious MSS. of which my last letter made especial mention; and promised to afford me every facility which his official situation might command. Unluckily for a more frequent intercourse between us, which was equally wished by both parties, the worthy Director was taken ill towards the latter part of my stay;[72]--not however before I had visited him twice, and been his guest attended by a numerous party. Mr. SCHERER is the third figure upon this bibliographical piece of canvass, of which I deem it essential to give you a particular description. He is very hearty, very alert in the execution of his office, and is "all over English" in his general appearance and manner of conduct. He is learned in oriental literature; is a great reader of English Reviews; and writes our language with fluency and tolerable correctness. He readily volunteered his kind offices in translating the German ms. of _Sir Tristrem_, of which my last letter made mention--and I have been indebted to him upon every occasion, wherein I have solicited his aid, for much friendly and much effectual attention. He has, luckily for his own character, vouchsafed to _dine_ with me; although it was with difficulty I could prevail upon him so to do, and for him to allow me to dine at the protracted hour of _four_. After dinner, it was with pleasure,--when surrounded by all the book-treasures, specified in the early part of this letter, and which were then lying in detached piles upon the floor[73]--I heard Mr. Schérer expatiate upon the delight he felt in taking a trip, every summer or autumn, among the snow-capt mountains of the Tyrol; or of burying his cares, as well as changing his studies and residence, by an excursion along the lakes and mountains of Switzerland. "When that season arrives (added he--stretching forth both arms in a correspondently ardent manner) I fly away to these grand scenes of silence and solitude, and forget the works of man in the contemplation of those of nature!" As he spake thus, my heart went a good way with him: and I could not but express my regret that London was not situated like the capital of Bavaria. Of Mr. BERNHARD, the sub-librarian, I have already spoken frequently; and in a manner, I trust, to shew that I can never be insensible either of his acquirements or his kindness. He has one of the meekest spirits--accompanied by the firmest decision--which ever marked the human character; and his unconsciousness both of the one and of the other renders his society the more delightful. A temporary farewell to Bibliography, and to Bibliographers. You may remember that I introduced the name of Hess, in a former part of this letter; with an intention of bringing the character, to whom it belonged, at a future period before your notice. You will be gratified by the mention of some particulars connected with him. Mr. Hess has passed his grand climacteric; and is a Professor of Design, but more especially a very distinguished Engraver. His figure, his manner of conversation, his connections, and his character, are all such--as to render it pleasing to find them combined with a man of real talent and worth. I had brought with me, from England, a drawing or copy of one of the original portraits at Althorp--supposed to be painted by Anthony More--with a view of getting it engraved abroad. It is very small, scarcely four inches square. I had shewn it at Paris to Lignon, who _modestly_ said he would execute it in his very best manner, for 3000 francs! M. Hess saw it--and was in extacies. "Would I allow him to engrave it?" "Name your price." "I should think about thirty-five guineas." "I should think (replied I) that that sum would entitle me to your best efforts." "Certainly; and you shall have them"--rejoined he. I then told him of the extravagance of Lignon. He felt indignant at it. "Not (added he) that I shall execute it in _his_ highly finished manner." I immediately consigned the precious portrait into his hands--with a written agreement to receive the engraving of it next year, at the stipulated sum.[74] Thus you see I have set Mr. Hess to work in my absence--when I quit Munich--which will be to-morrow, or the following day at farthest. This worthy artist won upon me at every interview. His dress and address were truly gentlemanly; and as he spoke the English language as well as he did the French, we were of course glad to renew our visits pretty frequently. His anxiety to promote my views, and to afford my companion every assistance in his power, connected with the Fine Arts, will be long and gratefully remembered by us.[75] But Mr. NOCKHER shall not be passed over "sub silentio." He is a banker; and I found another FRANCS in the promptitude and liberality of his offers of pecuniary supply. He, together with Mr. Hess, has tasted the best red wine, at my humble table, that the _Schwartzen Adler_ can afford; and I have quaffed his souchong, in society in which I should like to have mingled again and again. The subjects of pictures and prints occupied every moment of our time, and almost every word of our discussion; and Mr. Nockher shewed me his fine impression of the _Dresden Raphael_, in a manner that proved how perfectly well he was qualified to appreciate the merits of the graphic art. That print, you know, is considered to be the masterpiece of modern art; and it is also said that the engraver--having entirely finished every portion of it--did NOT LIVE TO SEE A FINISHED PROOF. Mr. Nockher bought it for some three or four napoleons, and has refused twenty for it. I own that, to my eye, this print has more power, expression, and I may say colouring, than almost any which I remember to have seen. The original is in the second, or darker style of colouring, of the master; and this engraving of it is as perfect a copy of the manner of the original, as that by Raphael Morghen of the last Supper of Leonardo da Vinci--so celebrated all over Europe. Mr. Nockher is both a good-natured man, and a man of business; and the facility and general correctness of his mode of speaking the English language, renders a communication with him very agreeable. He has undertaken to forward all my book-purchases to England--with the exception of a certain _little Greek duodecimo_, which has taken a marvellous fancy to be the travelling companion of its present master. Mr. Nockher also promises to forward all future book-purchases which I may make--and which may be directed for him at Munich--on to England. Thus, therefore--when I quit this place--I may indulge a pleasing anticipation of the future, without any anxieties respecting the past.[76] And now fare you well. Within twenty-four hours I start from hence, upon rather a _digressive_ excursion; and into which the Baron Von Moll and M. Schlichtegroll have rather coaxed, than reasoned, me. I am to go from hence to _Freysing_ and _Landshut_--and then diverge down, to the right, upon _Salzburg_--situated 'midst snow-clad mountains, and containing a LIBRARY within the oldest monastery in Austria. I am to be prepared to be equally struck with astonishment at the crypt of Freysing, and at the tower of Landshut--and after having "revelled and rioted" in the gloomy cloisters and sombre apartments of St. Peter's monastery, at Salzburg, I am instructed to take the _Lake of Gmunden_ in my way to the _Monastery of Chremsminster_--in the direct route to Lintz and Vienna. A world of variety and of wonder seems therefore to be before me; and as my health has been recently improved, from the comparatively cool state of the weather, I feel neither daunted nor depressed at the thought of any difficulties, should there be any, which may await me in the accomplishment of this journey. My next, God willing, will assuredly be from Salzburg--when I shall have rested awhile after a whirl of some two hundred miles. [66] [See vol. ii. p. 147. Renouard, _L'Imprim. des Alde_, vol. i. 36-7. There are however, NOW, I believe, in this country, FIVE copies of this very rare book; of which four are perfect.] [67] The copy in question had, in 1595, been the property of F. Gregorius, prior of the monastery of Sts. Ulric and Afra at Augsbourg: as that possessor's autograph denotes. [68] The principal of these "tempting articles" were a fine first _Statius_ of 1502, _Asconius Pedianus_, 1522. _Cicero de Officiis_, 1517, and _Leonicerus de Morbo Gallico_--with the leaf of errata: wanting in the copy in St. James's Place. But perhaps rarer than either, the _Laurentius Maoli_ and _Averrois_, each of 1497--intended for _presents_. But Mr. Stoeger had forgotten these intended presents--and _charged_ them at a good round sum. I considered his word as his bond--and told him that honest Englishmen were always in the habit of so considering the words of honest Germans. I threatened him with the return of the whole cargo, including even the beloved _Greek Hours_. Mr. Stoeger seemed amazed: hesitated: relented: and adhered to his original position. Had he done otherwise, I should doubtless have erased the epithet "honestissimus," in all the copies of the sale catalogue above alluded to, which might come within my notice, and placed a marginal emendation of "avidissimus." [69] It may be a novel, and perhaps gratifying, sight to the reader to throw his eye over a list (of a few out of the fifty articles) like the following: _Flor. Kreutz. Liber Moralizat. Biblic. Ulm_. 1474. Folio. Fine copy 11 _Biblia Vulg. Hist. Ital. Venet._ Giunta 1492. Fol. 8 _Horatius. Venet._ 1494. 4to. Fig. lig. incis. 11 _Cronica del rey don Iuan_. _Sevilla_. 1563. 4to. 11 _Breviarium. Teutonicè_. 4to. In MEMBRANIS. A most beautiful and spotless book. It contains only the Pars Hyemalis of the cathedral service. 11 _Dictionarium Pauperum_. _Colon_. 1504. 8vo. 1 _Pars quart. Ind. Orient. Francof_. 1601. 5 30 _Fabulæ Æsopicæ_. _Cura Brandt_. 1501. Folio. Perhaps a matchless copy; in original binding of wood. Full of cuts 55 Thirteen different opuscula, at one florin each; many very curious and uncommon 13 The Lord's Prayer and Creed--in the German language--printed by "_Fricz Crewsner_," in 1472: folio: _broadside_. Perhaps UNIQUE 22 The florin, at the time of my residence at Munich, was about 1s. 9d. [70] [However severely I may have expressed myself in a preceding page (105) of the general condition of this huge Inn, yet I cannot but gaze upon the subjoined view of it with no ordinary sensation of delight when I remember that the three-windowed room, on the first floor, to the right--close to the corner--was the room destined to be graced by the BOOK TREASURES above mentioned. This view may also serve as a general specimen of the frontage of the larger Inns in Bavaria.] [Illustration] [71] [All the _book-world_ has heard mention of THE LINCOLNE NOSEGAY, --a small handful of flowers, of choice hues, and vigorous stems, culled within the precincts of one of the noblest cathedrals in Europe. Neither Covent Garden at home, nor the Marché aux Fleurs at Paris, could boast of such a posey. I learn, however, with something approaching to horror, that the Nosegay in question has been counterfeited. A _spurious_ edition (got up by some unprincipled speculator, and, I must add, bungling hand--for the typographical discrepancy is obvious) is abroad. Roxburghers, look well to your book-armouries! The foe may have crept into them, and exchanged your steel for painted wood.] [72] There is something so hearty and characteristic in the Director's last letter to me, that I hope to be pardoned if I here subjoin a brief extract from it. "M. Schérer vient me quitter, et m'annoncer que votre départ est fixé pour demain. Jamais maladie--auxquelles, heureusement, je suis très rarement exposé--m'est survenu aussi mal-à-propos qu'à cette fois-ci. J'avois compté de jouir encore au moins quelques jours, après mon rétablissement, de votre entretien, et jetter les fondemens d'une amitié collegiale pour la future. La nouvelle, que M. Schérer m'apporte, me désole. J'avois formé le plan de vous accompagner pour voir quelqu'uns de nos Institutions rémarquables, principalement _La Lithographie_, "Vana Somnia!" Votre résolution de quitter Munich plutôt que je n'avois pensé, détruit mes esperances. N'est-ce-pas possible que vous passiez par Munich à votre retour de Vienne? Utinam! Combien de choses restent, sur lesquelles j'esperais de causer et de traiter avec vous! "I bono alite: pede fausto." [Autograph] [The author of this Letter is NO MORE!] [73] See the note, p. 157 ante. [74] This Engraving appears in the _Ædes Althorpianæ_, vol. i. p. 246. On my return to England, it was necessary to keep up a correspondence with the amiable and intelligent character in question. I make no apology, either to the reader, or to the author of the Epistle, for subjoining a copy of one of these letters--premising, that it relates to fac-similes of several old copper cuts in the Public Library at Munich, as well as to his own engraving of the above-mentioned portrait. There is something throughout the whole of this letter so hearty, and so thoroughly original, that I am persuaded it will be perused with extreme gratification: _Munich, 17 May, 1819._ Dear and Reverend Sir; I am a good old fellow, and a passable engraver; but a very bad Correspondent. You are a ... and minister of a religion which forgive all faults of mankind; and so I hope that you will still pardon me the retardation of mine answer. I am now 65 years old, and have never had any sickness in mine life, but I have such an averseness against writing, that only the _sight_ of an ink-horn, pen and paper, make me feeling all sort of fevers of the whole medicinal faculty;--and so I pray that you would forgive me the brevity of mine letters. Following your order, I send you jointly the first proof prints of those plates still (already) finished. The plate of that beautiful head of an English artist, is not yet so far advanced; but in about six weeks you will have it--and during this time, I expect your answer and direction to whom I shall deliver the whole. I wish and hope heartily that the fac-similes and portraits would be correspondent with your expectation. I hold it for necessary and interesting, to give you a true copy of that old print--"_Christ in the lap of God the Father_." You'll see that this print is cutten round, and carefully pasted upon another paper on a wooden band of a book: which proves not only a high respect for a precious antiquity, but likewise that this print is much older than the date of 1462--which is written in red ink, over the cutten outlines, of that antique print. You may be entirely assured of the fidelity of both fac-similes. Now I pray you heartily to remember my name to our dear Mr. Lewis, with my friendliest compliments, and told him that the work on _Lithography_ is now finished, and that he shall have it by the first occasion. In expectation of your honorable answer, I assure you of the highest consideration and respect of Your most obedient humble Servant, [Autograph] [75] [This GRAPHIC WORTHY now _ceases to exist_. He died in his seventy-first year--leaving behind, the remembrance of virtues to be reverenced and of talents to be imitated.] [76] [Another OBITUARY presses closely upon the preceding--but an Obituary which rends one's heart to dwell upon:--for a kinder, a more diligent, and more faithful Correspondent than was Mr. Nockher, it has never been my good fortune to be engaged with. Almost while writing the _above_ passage, this unfortunate gentleman ... DESTROYED himself:--from embarrassment of circumstances!] LETTER VII. FREYSING. LANDSHUT. ALTÖTING. SALZBURG. THE MONASTERY OF ST. PETER. _Salzburg; Golden Ship, Aug. 23, 1818._ MY DEAR FRIEND; If ever I wished for those who are dear to me in England, to be my companions during any part of this "_antiquarian_ and _picturesque_ tour," (for there are comparatively few, I fear, who would like to have been sharers of the "_bibliographical_" department of it) it has been on the route from Munich to this place: first, darting up to the north; and secondly, descending gradually to the south; and feasting my eyes, during the descent, upon mountains of all forms and heights, winding through a country at once cultivated and fertile, and varied and picturesque. Yes, my friend, I have had a glimpse, and even more than a glimpse, of what may be called ALPINE SCENERY: and have really forgotten Fust, Schoeffher, and Mentelin, while contemplating the snow-capt heights of the _Gredig_, _Walseberg_, and _Untersberg_:--to say nothing of the _Gross Klokner_, which raises its huge head and shoulders to the enormous height of 12,000 feet above the level of the sea. These be glorious objects!--but I have only gazed; and, gazed at a distance of some twenty or thirty miles. Surrounded as I am, at this moment,--in one of the most marvellous and romantic spots in Europe--in the vicinity of lakes, mountain-torrents, trout-streams, and salt-mines,--how can you expect to hear any thing about MSS. and PRINTED BOOKS? They shall not, however, be _wholly_ forgotten; for as I always endeavour to make my narrative methodical, I must of necessity make mention of the celebrated library of INGOLDSTADT, (of which Seemiller has discoursed so learnedly in a goodly quarto volume,) now, with the University of the same place, transferred to LANDSHUT--where I slept on the first night of my departure from Munich. A secret, but strong magnetic power, is pulling me yet more southerly, towards _Inspruck_ and _Italy_. No saint in the golden legend was ever more tortured by temptation, than I have been for the last twenty-four hours ... with the desire of visiting those celebrated places. Thrice has some invisible being--some silver-tongued sylph--not mentioned, I apprehend, in the nomenclature of the Rosicrusian philosophy, whispered the word ... "ROME ..." in mine ear--and thrice have I replied in the response... "VIENNA!" I am therefore firmly fixed: immoveably resolved ... and every southerly attraction shall be deserted for the capital of Austria: having determined to mingle among the Benedictin and Augustin monks of _Chremsminster_, _St. Florian_, and _Mölk_--and, in the bookish treasures of their magnificent establishments, to seek and obtain something which may repay the toil and expense of my journey. But why do I talk of monastic delights only in _contemplation_? I have _realized_ them. I have paced the cloisters of St. Peter's, the mother-convent of Austria: have read inscriptions, and examined ornaments, upon tombstones, of which the pavement of these cloisters is chiefly composed: have talked bad Latin with the principal, and indifferently good French with the librarian--have been left alone in the library--made memoranda, or rather selected books for which a _valuable consideration_ has been proposed--and, in short, fancied myself to be thoroughly initiated in the varieties of the Bavarian and Austrian characters. Indeed, I have almost the conceit to affirm that this letter will be worth both postage and preservation. Let me "begin at the beginning." On leaving Munich, I had resolved upon dining at Freysingen, or _Freysing_; as well to explore the books of Mr. Mozler, living there--and one of the most "prying" of the bibliopolistic fraternity throughout Germany--as to examine, with all imaginable attention, the celebrated Church to which a monastery had been formerly attached--and its yet more celebrated _Crypt_. All my Munich friends exhorted me to descend into this crypt; and my curiosity had been not a little sharpened by the lithographic views of it (somewhat indifferently executed) which I had seen and purchased at Munich. Some of my Munich friends considered the crypt of Freysing to be coeval with Charlemagne. This was, at least, a very romantic conjecture. The morning was gray and chill, when we left the _Schwartzen Adler_; but as we approached Garching, the first stage, the clouds broke, the sun shone forth, and we saw Freysing, (the second stage) situated upon a commanding eminence, at a considerable distance. In our way to Garching, the river Iser and the plains of Hohenlinden lay to the right; upon each of which, as I gazed, I could not but think alternately of MOREAU and CAMPBELL. You will readily guess wherefore. The former won the memorable battle of Hohenlinden--fought in the depth of winter--by which the Austrians were completely defeated, and which led to the treaty of Luneville: and the latter (that is, our Thomas Campbell) celebrated that battle in an _Ode_--of which I never know how to speak in sufficient terms of admiration: an ode, which seems to unite all the fire of Pindar with all the elegance of Horace; of which, parts equal Gray in sublimity, and Collins in pathos. We drove to the best, if not the only, Inn at Freysing; and, ordering a late dinner, immediately visited the cathedral;--not however without taking the shop of Mozler, the bookseller, in our way, and finding--to my misfortune--that the owner was absent on a journey; and his sister, the resident, perfectly ignorant of French. We then ascended towards the cathedral, which is a comparatively modern building; at least every thing _above_ ground is of that description. The CRYPT, however, more than answered my expectations. I should have no hesitation in calling it perfectly unique; as I have neither seen, nor heard, nor read of any thing the least resembling it. The pillars, which support the roof, have monsters crawling up their shafts--devouring one another, as one sees them in the margins of the earlier illuminated MSS. The altar beneath Our Lady's chapel was a confused mass of lumber and rubbish; but, if I were to select--from all the strange and gloomy receptacles, attached to places of religious worship, which I have seen since quitting the shores of my own country--any ONE SPOT, in preference to another, for the celebration of mysterious rites--it should be the CRYPT of the CATHEDRAL of FREYSING. And perhaps I should say that portions of it might be as old as the latter end of the eleventh century. From the foundation, we ascended to the very summit of the building; and from the top of the tower, had a most extensive and complete view of the plains of _Hohenlinden_, the rapid _Iser_, and the gray mist of Munich in the distance. I was much struck with a large bell, cast about fourscore years ago; the exterior of which was adorned by several inscriptions, and rather whimsical ornaments. Having gratified a curiosity of this kind, my companion and valet left me, for a stroll about the town; when I requested the guide (who could luckily talk a little bad French) to shew me the LIBRARY belonging to the monastery formerly attached to the cathedral. He told me that it was the mere relics of a library:--the very shadow of a shade. Indeed it was quickly obvious that there were certain _hiatuses_ upon the shelves--which told their own tale pretty readily. The books, once occupying them, had been taken to Munich. The room is light, cheerful, and even yet well garnished with books: most of them being in white forel or vellum binding. There were Bibles, out of number, about the beginning of the sixteenth century; and an abundant sprinkling of glosses, decretals, canon law, and old fashioned scholastic lore of the same period. Nevertheless, I was glad to have examined it; and do not know that I have visited many more desirable book-apartments since I left England. In my way to the inn, I took a more leisurely survey of the collection of Mr. Mozler: but his sister had not returned from vespers, and I was left absolutely alone--with the exception of a female servant; who, pointing to the book-room above stairs, as the supposed fittest place for my visit, betook herself to her culinary occupations. Since the sight of the premises of the younger Manoury at Caen,[77] I had never witnessed such a scene of darkness, lumber, and confusion:--yet I must do Mr. Mozler the justice to say, that there was much which might have repaid the toil of a minute examination. But I was pressed for time: and the appetites of my travelling companions might be sharpened so as to stand in need of an immediate attack upon the cotelette and wine. We dined as expeditiously as ever the Trojans or Grecians did, on expecting a sally from the foe. The red wine was, I think, the most delicious I had then drank in Germany. A little before six, we left Freysing for _Moosburg_: a ten mile stage; but we had not got a quarter of a league upon our journey, when we discovered, to the right, somewhat in our rear, a more complete view of the Tyrolese mountains than we had yet seen. They appeared to be as huge monsters, with overtopping heads, disporting themselves in an element of their own--many thousand feet in the air! It was dusk when we changed horses at _Moosburg_: and the moon, then pretty far advanced towards the full, began to supply the light of which we stood so much in need. _Landshut_ was our next and final stage; but it was unlucky for the first view of a church, of which the tower is considered to be the highest in Bavaria, that we were to see it at such a moment. The air of the evening was mild, and the sky was almost entirely covered by thin flaky clouds, as we pushed on for Landshut. On our immediate approach to it, the valet told us that he well remembered the entrance of the French into Landshut, on Bonaparte's advance to Munich and Vienna. He was himself in the rear of the assault--attending upon his master, one of the French generals. He said, that the French entered the further end of the town from that where we should make our entrance; and that, having gained a considerable eminence, by a circuitous route, above the river, unobserved, they rushed forward--bursting open the barriers--and charging the Austrians at the point of the bayonet. The contest was neither long nor sanguinary. A prudent surrender saved the town from pillage, and the inhabitants from slaughter. On entering Landshut, without having caught any thing like a determined view of the principal church, we found the centre of the principal street entirely occupied by booths and stalls, for an approaching fair--to take place within a few following days. The line of wooden buildings could scarcely extend less than half a mile. We drove to the principal inn, which was spacious and _tolerably_ clean; bespoke good beds, and found every appearance of comfort. I was resolved to devote the next day entirely to the PUBLIC LIBRARY--attached to the University, brought hither from Ingoldstadt. Of course I had been long acquainted with the general character of the early-printed books, from the valuable work of Seemiller;[78] and was resolved to make especial enquiry, in the first place, for the Aldine duodecimo of the _Greek Hours_, of which you have already heard so much. I carried with me a letter to Professor SIEBENKEES, the Head Librarian. In short, I anticipated a day of bibliographical "joyaunce." I was not disappointed in my expectations. The day was as beautiful without, as I found it profitable within doors. The Professor was all kindness, and was pleased to claim a long and intimate acquaintance with me, through certain works which need not be here mentioned: but it would be the height of affectation _not_ to avow the satisfaction I felt in witnessing a thoroughly cut-open, and tolerably well-thumbed copy, of the _Bibl. Spenceriana_ lying upon his table. I instantly commenced the examination of the library, while the Professor as readily offered his services of assistance. "Where are your _Aldine Greek Hours_ of 1497?" observed I. "Alas, Sir, that book exists no longer here!"--replied the Professor, in a melancholy tone of voice, and with an expression of countenance which indicated more than was meant by his _words_. "Nevertheless, (rejoined I) Seemiller describes it as having been at Ingoldstadt." "He does so--but in the conveyance of the books from thence hither, it has _somehow_ disappeared."[79] Again the Professor _looked_ more significantly than he _spake_. "What is invisible cannot be seen"--observed I--"and therefore allow me to take notes of what is before my eyes." "Most willingly and cheerfully. Here is every thing you wish. The more you write, the greater will be my satisfaction; although, after Paris and Munich, there is scarcely any thing worthy of particular description. But ere you begin your labours, allow me to introduce you to the several rooms in which the books are contained." I expressed great pleasure in complying with the Professor's request, and followed him into every apartment. This library, my dear friend, is placed in one of the prettiest situations imaginable. Some meandering branches of the Iser intersect and fertilize considerable tracts of meadow land; equally rich in colour and (as I learnt) in produce: and terminated by some gently swelling hills, quite in the vicinity of the town. The whole had a perfectly English aspect. The rooms were numerous, and commanded a variety of views. They were well lighted by side windows, and the shelves and wainscots were coloured chiefly in white. One small hexagonal closet, or cabinet, on the first floor--(as is indeed the whole suite of apartments) caught my fancy exceedingly, and won my very heart. The view before it, or rather from three of its six sides, was exhilirating in the extreme. "Here Mr. Professor, quoth I, (gently laying hold of his left arm) here will I come, and, if in any spot, put together my materials for a _third_ edition of the BIBLIOMANIA." The worthy Professor, for a little moment, thought me serious--and quickly replied "By all means do so: and you shall be accommodated with every thing necessary for carrying so laudable a design into execution." It was a mere bibliomaniacal vision:[80] dissipated the very moment I had quitted the apartment for another. I shall now give you the result of my examination of a few of the rarer and early-printed books in the PUBLIC LIBRARY of Landshut. And first of MANUSCRIPTS. An _Evangelistarium_, probably of the tenth century, is worth particular notice; if it be only on the score of its scription--which is perfectly beautiful: the most so of any, of such a remote period, which I have ever seen. It is a folio volume, bound in wood, with a stamped parchment cover of about the end of the fifteenth century. They possess a copy of the _oldest written Laws of Bavaria_; possibly of the twelfth--but certainly of the thirteenth century. It is a duodecimo MS. inlaid in a quarto form. No other MS. particularly struck my fancy, in the absence of all that was Greek or Roman: but a very splendid _Polish Missal_, in 8vo. which belonged to Sigismund, King of Poland, in the sixteenth century, seemed worthy of especial notice. The letters are graceful and elegant; but the style of art is heavy, although not devoid of effect. The binding is crimson velvet, with brass knobs, and a central metallic ornament--apparently more ancient than the book itself. This latter may have been possibly taken from another volume. Of the _Printed Books_--after the treasures of this kind seen (as the Professor intimated) at Paris and Munich--there was comparatively very little which claimed attention. They have a cropt and stained copy of Mentelin's _German Bible_, but quite perfect: two copies of the _supposed_ first _German Bible_, for one of which I proposed an exchange in a copy of the B.S. and of the _Ædes Althorpianæ_ as soon as this latter work should be published. The proposition was acceded to on the part of the Head Librarian, and it will be forwarded to the honest and respectable firm of John and Arthur Arch, booksellers; who, previously to my leaving England, had requested me to make something like a similar purchase for them--should a fine copy of this German Bible present itself for sale.[81] Here I saw Mentelin's edition of the _De Civitate Dei_ of _St. Austin_: and a good sound copy of the very rare edition of _Mammotrectus_, printed by _Helias de Helie_, in 1470: a beautiful copy of _Martin Brand's Psalter_ of 1486, printed at Leipsic, in 4to. in a large square gothic type; and a duplicate copy of the Leipsic Psalter of the preceding year, printed by _Conrad Kachelovez_, in 4to. which latter I obtained for the library in St. James's Place. There were at least ten copies of the early Block Books; of which the _Ars Memorandi_ and the _Anti-Christ_ (with extracts inserted in the latter from the B.S.) appeared to be the more ancient and interesting. But I must not forget to mention a very indifferent and imperfect copy of the _Latin Bible of Fust_, of 1462, UPON VELLUM. A few leaves in each volume are wanting. Here too I saw the _Pfarzival_ of 1477 (as at Strasbourg) printed in a metrical form. As I got among the books of the _sixteenth_ century, I was much more gratified with the result of my researches. I will begin with a very choice article: which is nothing less than a copy of the _Complutensian Polyglott_, purchased by Eckius, in 1521, of the celebrated Demetrius Chalcondylas--as the following coeval ms. memorandum attests: "Rome empta biblia ista P Eckium P xiiij ducatis largis a Demetrio Calcondyla anno 1521; mortuo iam Leone Papa in Decembri." The death of Leo is here particularly mentioned, because, during his life, it is said that that Pontiff prohibited the sale of the work in question. The copy is fair and sound; but both this, and a duplicate copy, wants the sixth volume, being the Dictionary or Vocabulary. The mention of Eckius leads me to notice a little anecdote connected with him. He was, as you may have read, one of the most learned, most eloquent, and most successful of Luther's antagonists. He was also the principal theological Professor in the University of Ingoldstadt. They preserve at Landshut, brought from the former place, the chair and the doctor's cap of their famous Anti-Lutheran champion. You see both of these in one of the principal apartments of the Public Library. I was requested to sit in the chair of the renowned Eckius, and to put his doctorial bonnet upon my head. I did both:--but, if I had sat for a century to come, I should never have fancied myself Eckius ... for more reasons than _one_. The Sub Librarian, who is a Catholic, (Professor Siebenkees being a Protestant) has shewn great good sense in preserving all the tracts, which have fallen in his way, both _for_ and _against_ the Lutheran controversy. You go between two small book-cases, or sets of shelves, and find _Luther_ in front, and _Eckius_ and his followers in the rear of you; or vice versa. A considerable number of rare and curious little pieces of _Erasmus_ and _Melancthon_, are mixed in this collection, which is far from being small either in number or value. In this interesting collection, I saw a good copy of Ross's work against Luther, of the date of 1523, which appeared to me to be printed by Pynson.[82] It had the autograph of Sir Thomas More--("_Thom^{9} mor^{9}"--_) who indeed is said to have been the author of the work. This very copy belonged to Eckius, and was given to him by the author, when Eckius came over to England in 1525: the fact being thus attested in the hand-writing of the latter: "_Codex iste dono datus est mihi Johanni Eckio ab illius autore in Anglia, dum visendi cupidus in Insulam traiecissem, 1525, Augusto x_." The worthy Professor next put into my hands what he considered to be an _absolutely unique_ copy of _Der Veis Ritter_, in 1514, folio: adding, that no other copy of the adventures of the _White Knight_, of the _same_ date, was known to bibliographers. I assented to the observation--equally from courtesy and sheer ignorance. But surely this is somewhat difficult to believe. There was nothing further that demanded a distinct registry; and so, making my bow, and shaking hands with the worthy Librarian very heartily, I quitted this congenial spot;--not however before I had been introduced to a Professor of botany (whose name has now escaped me) who was busily engaged in making extracts in the reading room, with a short pipe by the side of him, and a small red tasselled cap upon his head. He had an expressive countenance; understood our language so as to read Shakespeare with facility, and even with rapture: and to a question of mine, whether he was not much gratified with Schlegel's critical remarks upon that dramatist, he replied, that "he did not admire them so much, as, from the Edinburgh Review, the English appeared to do." To another question--"which of Shakspeare's plays pleased him most?" he replied, unhesitatingly, "_Romeo and Juliet_." I own, I should have thought that the mystical, or philosophy-loving, brain of a German would have preferred _Hamlet_. On leaving the library, I surveyed the town with tolerably minute attention. After Munich, it appeared sufficiently small. Its population indeed scarcely exceeds 8000. The day turned out very beautiful, and my first and principal attention was directed to _St. Martin's Church_; of which the tower (as I think I before told you) is considered to be full 420 feet in height, and the loftiest in Bavaria. But its height is its principal boast. Both in detail, and as a whole, the architecture is miserably capricious and tasteless. It is built of red brick. Many of the monuments in the church-yard, but more particularly some mural ones, struck me as highly characteristic of the country. Among these rude specimens of sculpture, the representation of _Our Saviour's Agony in the Garden_--the favourite subject in Bavaria--was singularly curious to a fresh eye. It may be between two and three hundred years old; but has suffered no injury. They have, in the principal street, covered walks, for foot-passengers, in a piazza-fashion, a little resembling those at Chester: but neither so old nor so picturesque. The intermixture of rural objects, such as trees and grass plats--in the high street of Landshut--renders a stroll in the town exceedingly agreeable to the lover of picturesque scenery. The booths and stalls were all getting ready for the fair--which I learnt was to last nearly a fortnight: and which I was too thankful to have escaped. We left Landshut on a fine sun-shining afternoon, purposing to sleep at the second stage--_Neümarkt_--(Angl. "Newmarket") in the route to Salzburg. _Neümarkt_ is little better than a small village, but we fared well in every respect at the principal, if not the only, inn in the place. Our beds were even luxurious. Neümarkt will be quickly forgotten: but the following stage--or _Altöting_--will not be so easily banished from our recollection. We reached it to a late breakfast--after passing through the most fertile and beautifully varied country which I had yet seen--and keeping almost constantly in view the magnificent chain of the Tyrolese mountains, into the very heart of which we seemed to be directing our course. ALTÖTING is situated upon an eminence. We drove into the Place, or Square, and alighted at what seemed to be a large and respectable inn. Two ladies and two gentlemen had just arrived before us, from Munich, by a different route: and while I was surveying them, almost mistaking them for English, and had just exchanged salutations, my valet came and whispered in my ear that "these good folks were come on a pilgrimage to the shrine of the _Black Virgin_." While I was wondering at this intelligence, the valet continued: "you see that small church in the centre of the square--it is _there_ where the richest shrine in Bavaria is deposited; and to-day is a 'high day' with the devotees who come to worship." On receiving this information, we all three prepared to visit this mean-looking little church. I can hardly describe to you with sufficient accuracy, the very singular, and to me altogether new, scene which presented itself on reaching the church. There is a small covered way--in imitation of cloisters--which goes entirely round it. The whole of the interior of these cloisters is covered with little pictures, images, supposed relics--and, in short votive offerings of every description, to the Holy Virgin, to whom the church is dedicated. The worshippers believe that the mother of Christ was an _African_ by birth, and therefore you see little black images of the virgin stuck up in every direction. At first, I mistook the whole for a parcel of pawnbrokers shops near each other: and eyed the several articles with a disposition, more or less, to become a purchaser of a few. But the sound of the chant, and the smell of the frankincense, broke in upon my speculations, and called my attention to the interior. I entered with a sort of rush of the congregation. This interior struck me as being scarcely thirty feet by twenty; but the eye is a deceitful rule in these cases. However, I continued to advance towards the altar; the heat, at the same time, being almost suffocating. An iron grating separated the little chapel and shrine of our _Black Lady_ from the other portion of the building; and so numerous, so constant, and apparently so close, had been the pressure and friction of each succeeding congregation, for probably more than two centuries, that some of these rails, or bars, originally at least one inch square, had been worn to _half_ the size of their pristine dimensions. It was with difficulty, on passing them, that I could obtain a peep at the altar; which, however, I saw sufficiently distinctly to perceive that it was entirely covered with silver vases, cups, dishes, and other _solid_ proofs of devotional ardour--which in short seemed to reach to the very roof. Having thus far gratified my curiosity, I retreated as quickly as possible; for not a window was open, and the little light which these windows emitted, together with the heat of the place, produced so disagreeable an effect as to make me apprehensive of sudden illness. On reaching the outward door, and enjoying the freedom of respiration, I made a sort of secret, but natural vow, that I would never again visit the shrine of _Our Black Lady_ on a festival day. An excellent breakfast--together with the neatness and civility of the female attendants--soon counter-acted the bad effects of the hydrogen contained within the walls of the place of worship we had just quitted. Every thing around us wore a cheerful and pleasing aspect; inasmuch as every thing reminded us of our own country. The servants were numerous, and all females; with their hair braided in a style of elegance which would not have disgraced the first drawing-room in London. We quaffed coffee out of cups which were perfectly of the Brobdignagian calibre; and the bread had the lightness and sweetness of cake. Between eleven and twelve, Charles Rohfritsch (alias our valet) announced that the carriage and horses were at the door; and on springing into it, we bade adieu to the worthy landlady and her surrounding attendants, in a manner quite natural to travellers who have seen something very unusual and interesting, and who have in other respects been well satisfied with good fare, and civil treatment. Not one of the circle could speak a word of French; so I told Charles to announce to them that we would not fail to spread the fame of their coffee, eggs, and bread, all over England! They laughed heartily--and then gave us a farewell salutation ... by dropping very-formal curtesies--their countenances instantly relapsing into a corresponding gravity of expression. In three minutes the inn, the square, and the church of the _Black Virgin_, were out of sight. The postilion put his bugle to his mouth, and played a lively air--in which the valet immediately joined. The musical infatuation, for an instant, extended to ourselves; for it was a tune which we had often heard in England, and which reminded me, in particular, of days of past happiness--never to return! But the sky was bright, the breeze soft, the road excellent, and the view perfectly magnificent. It was evident that we were now nearing the Tyrolese mountains. "At the foot of yonder second, sharp-pointed hill, lies SALZBURG"--said the valet: on receiving his intelligence from the post-boy. We seemed to be yet some twenty miles distant. To the right of the hill pointed out, the mountains rose with a loftier swell, and, covered by snow, the edges or terminations of their summits seemed to melt into the sky. Our road now became more hilly, and the time flew away quickly, without our making an apparently proportionate progress towards Salzburg. At length we reached _Burckhausen_; which is flanked by the river _Salz_ on one side, and defended by a lofty citadel on the other. It struck us, upon the whole, as rather a romantic spot: but the road, on entering the town, is in some places fearfully precipitous. The stratum was little better than rock. We were not long in changing horses, and made off instantly for _Tittmaning_; the last stage but one on that side of Salzburg. The country wore a more pleasing aspect. Stately trees spread their dark foliage on each side of the road; between the stems, and through the branches of which, we caught many a "spirit-stirring" view of the mountains in the neighbourhood of Salzburg--which, on our nearer approach, seemed to have attained double their first grandeur. After having changed horses at _Tittmaning_, and enjoyed a delightfully picturesque ride from Burckhausen thither, we dined at the following stage, _Lauffen_; a poor, yet picturesque and wildly-situated, large village. While the dinner was preparing, I walked to the extremity of the street where the inn is situated, and examined a small church, built there upon high ground. The cloisters were very striking; narrow and low, but filled with mural monuments, of a singular variety of character. It was quite evident, from numberless exhibitions of art--connected with religious worship--along the road-side, or attached to churches--that we had now entered a territory quite different from that of Baden, Wirtemberg, and even the northern part of Bavaria. Small crucifixes, and a representation of the _Agony in the Garden_, &c, presented themselves frequently to our view; and it seemed as if Austria were a land of even greater superstition than Bavaria. On concluding our dinner, and quitting Lauffen, it grew dusk, and the rain began to fall in a continued drizzling shower. "It always rains at Salzburg, sir," said the valet--repeating the information of the post boy. This news made us less cheerful on leaving Lauffen than we were on quitting _Altöting_: but "hope travelled through"--even till we reached the banks of the river Salz, within a mile or two of Salzburg--where the Austrian dominions begin, and those of Bavaria terminate. Our carriage was here stopped, and the trunks were examined, very slightly, on each side of the river. The long, wooden, black and yellow-striped bar of Austria--reaching quite across the road--forbade further progress, till such examination, and a payment of four or five florins, as the barrier-tax,--had been complied with. I had imagined that, if our trunks had been examined on _one_ side of the water, there needed no examination of them on the _other_; unless we had had intercourse with some water fiend in the interval. It seemed, however, that I reasoned illogically. We were detained full twenty minutes, by a great deal of pompous palaver--signifying nothing--on the part of the Austrian commissioner; so that it was quite dark when we entered the barriers of the town of Salzburg:--mountains, trees, meadows, and rivulets having been long previously obliterated from our view. The abrupt ascents and descents of the streets--and the quivering reflection of the lights from the houses, upon the surface of the river _Salz_--soon convinced us that we were entering a very extraordinary town. But all was silent: neither the rattling of carriages, nor the tread of foot-passengers, nor the voice of the labourer, saluted our ear on entering Salzburg--when we drove briskly to the _Gölden-Schiff_, in the _Place de la Cathedrale_, whence I am now addressing you. This inn is justly considered to be the best in the town; but what a melancholy reception--on our arrival! No rush of feet, no display of candles, nor elevation of voices, nor ringing of the bell--- as at the inns on our great roads in England--but ... every body and every, thing was invisible. Darkness and dulness seemed equally to prevail. One feeble candle at length glimmered at the extremity of a long covered arch-way, while afterwards, to the right, came forward two men--with what seemed to be a farthing candle between them, and desired to know the object of our halting? "Beds, and a two-day's residence in your best suite of apartments," replied I quickly--for they both spoke the French language. We were made welcome by one of them, who proved to be the master, and who helped us to alight. A long, and latterly a wet journey, had completely fatigued us--and after mounting up one high stair-case, and rambling along several loosely-floored corridors--we reached our apartments, which contained each a very excellent bed. Wax candles were placed upon the tables: a fire was lighted: coffee brought up; and a talkative, and civil landlord soon convinced us that we had no reason to grumble at our quarters.[83] On rising the next morning, we gazed upon almost every building with surprise and delight; and on catching a view of the CITADEL--in the back ground, above the Place de la Cathedrale--it seemed as if it were situated upon an eminence as lofty as Quito. I quickly sought the _Monastery of St. Peter_;--the oldest in the Austrian dominions. I had heard, and even read about its library; and imagined that I was about to view books, of which no bibliographer had ever yet--even in a vision--received intelligence. But you must wait a little ere I take you with me to that monastic library. There is a pleasing chime of bells, which are placed outside of a small cupola in the _Place_, in which stands the cathedral. I had heard this chime during the night--when I would rather have heard ... any thing else. What struck me the first thing, on looking out of window, was, the quantity of grass--such as Ossian describes within the walls of _Belcluthah_--growing between the pavement in the square. "Wherefore was this?" "Sir, (replied the master of the Gölden Schiff) this town is undergoing a gradual and melancholy depopulation. Before the late war, there were 27,000 inhabitants in Salzburg: at present, there are scarcely 15,000. This _Place_ was the constant resort of foreigners as well as townsmen. They filled every portion of it. Now, you observe there is only a narrow, worn walk, which gives indication of the route of a few straggling pedestrians. Even the very chimes of yonder bells (which must have _delighted_ you so much at every third hour of the night!) have lost their pleasing tone;--and sound as if they foreboded still further desolation to Salzburg." The man seemed to feel as he spoke; and I own that I was touched by so animated and unexpected a reply. I examined two or three old churches, of the Gothic order, of which I have already forgotten the names--unless they be those of _Ste. Trinité_ and _St. Sebastien_. In one of them--it being a festival--there was a very crowded congregation; while the priest was addressing his flock from the steps of the altar, in a strain of easy and impassioned eloquence. Wherever I went--and upon almost whatever object I gazed--there appeared to be traces of curious, if not of remote, antiquity. Indeed the whole town abounds with such--among which are some Roman relics, which have been recently (1816) described by Goldenstein, in a quarto volume published here, and written in the German language.[84] But you are impatient for the MONASTERY OF ST. PETER.[85] Your curiosity shall be no longer thwarted; and herewith I proceed to give you an account of my visit to that venerable and secluded spot--the abode of silence and of sanctity. It was my first appearance in a fraternity of MONKS; and those of the order of ST. BENEDICT. I had no letter of recommendation; but, taking my valet with me, I knocked at the outer gate--and received immediate admission within some ancient and low cloisters: of which the pavement consisted entirely of monumental slabs. The valet sought the librarian, to make known my wishes of examining the library; and I was left alone to contemplate the novel and strange scene which presented itself on all sides. There were two quadrangles, each of sufficiently limited dimensions. In the first, there were several young Monks playing at skittles in the centre of the lawn. Both the bowl and pins were of unusually large dimensions, and the direction of the former was confined within boards, fixed in the earth. These athletic young Benedictins (they might be between twenty and thirty years of age) took little or no notice of me; and while my eye was caught by a monumental tablet, which presented precisely the same coat-armour as the device used by Fust and Schoeffher,--and which belonged to a family that had been buried about two hundred and fifty years--the valet returned, and announced that the Principal of the College desired to see me immediately. I obeyed the summons in an instant, and followed Rohfritsch up stairs. There, on the first floor, a middle-aged monk received me, and accompanied me to the chamber of the President. On rapping at the door with his knuckles, a hollow but deep-toned voice commanded the visitor to enter. I was introduced with some little ceremony, but was compelled, most reluctantly, to have recourse to Latin, in conversing with the Principal. He rose to receive me very graciously; and I think I never before witnessed a countenance which seemed to _tell_ of so much hard fagging and meditation. He must have read every _Father_, in the _editio princeps_ of his works. His figure and physiognomical expression bespoke a rapid approach to the grand climacteric of human life. The deeply-sunk, but large and black, beaming eye--the wan and shrivelled cheek--the nose, somewhat aquiline, with nostrils having all the severity of sculpture--sharp, thin lips--an indented chin--and a highly raised forehead, surmounted by a little black silk cap--(which was taken off on the first salutation) all, added to the gloom of the place, and the novelty of the costume, impressed me in a manner not easily to be forgotten. My visit was very short, as I wished it to be; and it was concluded with an assurance, on the part of the Principal, that the librarian would be at home on the following day, and ready to attend me to the library:--but, added the Principal, on parting, "we have nothing worthy of the inspection of a traveller who has visited the libraries of Paris and Munich. At Mölk, you will see fine books, and a fine apartment for their reception." For the sake of _keeping_, in the order of my narrative, I proceed to give you an account of the visit to the library, which took place on the morrow, immediately after breakfast. It had rained the whole of the preceding night, and every hill and mountain about Salzburg was obscured by a continuation of the rain on the following day. I began to think the postilion spoke but too true, when he said "it always rains at Salzburg." Yet the air was oppressive; and huge volumes of steam, as from a cauldron, rose up from the earth, and mingled with the descending rain. In five minutes, I was within the cloisters of the monastery, and recognised some of the _skittling_ young monks--whom I had seen the day before. One of them addressed me very civilly, in the French language, and on telling him the object of my visit, he said he would instantly conduct me to Mr. GAERTNER, the librarian. On reaching the landing place, I observed a long corridore--where a somewhat venerable Benedictin was walking, apparently to and fro, with a bunch of keys in one hand, and a thick embossed-quarto under his other arm. The very sight of him reminded me of good _Michael Neander_, the abbot of the monastery of St. Ildefonso--the friend of Budæus[86]--of whom (as you may remember) there is a print in the _Rerum Germanicarum Scriptores_, published in 1707, folio. "That, Sir, is the librarian:"--observed my guide: "he waits to receive you." I walked quickly forward and made obeisance. Anon, one of the larger keys in this said bunch was applied to a huge lock, and the folding and iron-cramped doors of the library were thrown open. I descended by a few steps into the ante-room, and from thence had a completely fore-shortened view of the library. It is small, but well filled, and undoubtedly contains some ancient and curious volumes: but several _hiatuses_ gave indication that there had been a few transportations to Vienna or Munich. The small gothic windows were open, and the rain now absolutely descended in torrents. Nevertheless, I went quickly and earnestly to work. A few slight ladders were placed against the shelves, in several parts of the library, by means of which I left no division unexplored. The librarian, after exchanging a few words very pleasantly, in the French language, left me alone, unreservedly to prosecute my researches. I endeavoured to benefit amply by this privilege; but do not know, when, in the course of three or four hours, I have turned over the leaves of so many volumes ... some of which seemed to have been hardly opened since they were first deposited there ... to such little purpose. However, he is a bad sportsman who does not hit _something_ in a well-stocked cover; and on the return of the librarian, he found me busily engaged in laying aside certain volumes--with a written list annexed--"which might _possibly_, be disposed of ... for a valuable consideration?" "Your proposal shall be attended to, but this cannot be done immediately. You must leave the _consideration_ to the Principal and the elder brethren of the monastery." I was quite charmed by this response; gave my address, and taking a copy of the list, withdrew. I enclose you the list or catalogue in question.[87] Certainly I augur well of the result: but no early _Virgil_, nor _Horace_, nor _Ovid_, nor _Lucretius_, nor even an early _Greek Bible_ or _Testament_! What struck me, on the score of rarity, as most deserving of being secured, were some little scarce grammatical and philological pieces, by the French scholars of the early part of the sixteenth century; and some controversial tracts about Erasmus, Luther, and Eckius. So much for the monastic visit to St. Peter's at Salzburg; and yet you are not to quit it, without learning from me that this town was once famous for other similar establishments[88]--which were said anciently to vie with the greater part of those in Austria, for respectability of character, and amplitude of possessions. At present, things of this sort seem to be hastening towards a close, and I doubt whether the present principal will have half a dozen successors. It remains only to offer a brief sketch of some few other little matters which took place at Salzburg; and then to wish you good bye--as our departure is fixed for this very afternoon. We are to travel from hence through a country of mountains and lakes, to the _Monastery of Chremsminster_, in the route to Lintz--on the high road to Vienna. I have obtained a letter to the Vice-President of _Mölk monastery_, from a gentleman here, who has a son under his care; so that, ere I reach the capital of Austria, I shall have seen a pretty good sprinkling of _Benedictins_--as each of these monasteries is of the order of St. Benedict. The evening of the second day of our visit here, enabled me to ascertain something of the general character of the scenery contiguous to the town. This scenery is indeed grand and interesting. The summit of the lowest hill in the neighbourhood is said to be 4000 feet above the level of the sea. I own I have strong doubts about this. It is with the heights of mountains, as with the numbers of books in a great library,--we are apt to over-rate each. However, those mountains, which seem to be covered with perennial snow, must be doubtless 8000 feet above the same level.[89] To obtain a complete view of them, you must ascend some of the nether hills. This we intended to do--but the rain of yesterday has disappointed all our hopes. The river _Salz_ rolls rapidly along; being fed by mountain torrents. There are some pretty little villas in the neighbourhood, which are frequently tenanted by the English; and one of them, recently inhabited by Lord Stanhope, (as the owner informed me,) has a delightful view of the citadel, and the chain of snow-capt mountains to the left. The numerous rapid rivulets, flowing into the Salz, afford excellent trout-fishing; and I understood that Sir Humphry Davy, either this summer, or the last, exercised his well-known skill in this diversion here. The hills abound with divers sorts of four-footed and winged game; and, in short, (provided I could be furnished with a key of free admission into the library of St. Peter's Monastery) I hardly know where I could pass the summer and autumn months more completely to my satisfaction than at SALZBURG. What might not the pencils of Turner and Calcott here accomplish, during the mellow lights and golden tints of autumn? Of course, in a town so full of curiosities of every description, I am not able, during so short a stay in it, to transmit you any intelligence about those sights which are vulgarly called the _Lions_. But I must not close this rambling, desultory letter, without apprising you that I have walked from one end of the _Mönschberg_ to the other. This is an excavation through a hard and high rocky hill, forming the new gate, or entrance into the town. The success of this bold undertaking was as complete, as its utility is generally acknowledged: nor shall it tarnish the lustre of the _mitre_ to say, that it was a BISHOP of Salzburg who conceived, and superintended the execution of, the plan. A very emphatic inscription eternises his memory: "TE SAXA LOQUUNTUR." The view, from the further end of it, is considered to be one of the finest in Europe: but, when I attempted to enjoy it, every feature of the landscape was obscured by drizzling rain. "It always rains at Salzburg!"--said, as you may remember, the postilion from Lauffen. It may do so: but a gleam of _sunshine_ always enlivens that moment, when I subscribe myself, as I do now, your affectionate and faithful friend. [77] See vol. i. p. 199. [78] It is thus entitled: _Bibliothecæ Ingolstadiensis Incunabula Typographica_, 1787, 4to.: containing four parts. A carefully executed, and indispensably necessary, volume in every bibliographical collection. [79] [I rejoice to add, in this edition of my Tour, that the LOST SHEEP has been FOUND. It had not straggled from the fold when I was at Landshut; but had got _penned_ so snugly in some unfrequented corner, as not to be perceived.] [80] [A vision, however, which AGAIN haunts me!] [81] This copy has since reached England, and has been arrayed in a goodly coat of blue morocco binding. Whether it remain in Cornhill at this precise moment, I cannot take upon me to state; but I can confidently state that there is _not a finer copy_ of the edition in question in his Britannic Majesty's united dominions. [This copy now--1829--ceases to exist... in Cornhill.] [82] On consulting the _Typog. Antiquities_, vol. ii. p. 510, I found my conjectures confirmed. The reader will there see the full title of the work--beginning thus: "_Eruditissimi Viri Guilelmi Rossei opus elegans, doctum, festiuum, pium, quo pulcherrime retegit, ac refellit, insanas Lutheri calumnias," &c._ It is a volume of considerable rarity. [83] The charges were moderate. A bottle of the best red ordinary wine (usually--the best in every respect) was somewhere about 1s. 6d. Our lodgings, two good rooms, including the charge of three wax candles, were about four shillings per day. The bread was excellent, and the _cuisine_ far from despicable. [84] We learn from Pez (_Austriacar. Rer._ vol. ii. col. 185, taken from the Chronicle of the famous _Admont Monastery_,) that, in the year 1128, the cathedral and the whole city of Salzburg were destroyed by fire. So, that the antiquity of this, and of other relics, must not be pushed to too remote a period. [85] Before the reader commences the above account of a visit to this monastery, he may as well be informed that the SUBJOINED bird's-eye view of it, together with an abridged history (compiled from Trithemius, and previous chroniclers) appears in the _Monasteriologia of Stengelius_, published in 1619, folio. [Illustration] The monastery is there described as--"et vetustate et dignitate nulli è Germaniæ monasteriis secundum." Rudbertus is supposed to have been its founder:--"repertis edificiis basilicam in honore SANCTI PETRI construxit:" _Chronicon Norimberg._ fol. cliii.; edit. 1493. But this took place towards the end of the sixth century. From Godfred's _Chronicon Gotvvicense_, 1732, folio, pt. i. pp. 37, 39, 52--the library of this Monastery, there called "antiquissima," seems to have had some very ancient and valuable MSS. In Stengelius's time, (1620) the monastery appears to have been in a very flourishing condition. [86] As it is just possible the reader may not have a very distinct recollection of this worthy old gentleman, and ambulatory abbot--it may be acceptable to him to know, that, in the _Thanatologia of Budæus_ (incorporated in the _Tres Selecti Scriptores Rerum Germanicarum_, 1707, folio, p. 27, &c.) the said Neander is described as a native of Sorau, in Bohemia, and as dying in his 70th year, A.D. 1595, having been forty-five years Principal of the monastery of St. Ildefonso. A list of his works, and a laudatory Greek epigram, by Budæus, "UPON HIS EFFIGY," follow. [87] For the sake of juxta-position I here lay before the reader a short history of the issue, or progress of the books in question to their present receptacle, in St. James's Place. A few days after reaching _Vienna_, I received the following "pithy and pleasant" epistle from the worthy librarian, "Mon très-revérend Pasteur. En esperant que vous êtes arrivé à Vienne, à bon port, j'ai l'honneur de declarer à vous, que le prix fixé des livres, que vous avez choisi, et dont la table est ajoutée, est 40 louis d'or, ou 440 florins. Agréez l'assurance, &c." [Autographs] I wrote to my worthy friend Mr. Nockher at Munich to settle this subject immediately; who informed me, in reply, that the good monks would not part with a single volume till they had received "the money upon the nail,"--"l'argent comptant." That dexterous negotiator quickly supplied them with the same; received the case of books; and sent them down the Rhine to Holland, from thence to England: where they arrived in safe and perfect condition. They are all described in the second volume of the _Ædes Athorpianæ_; together with a beautiful fac-simile of an illuminated head, or portrait, of _Gaietanus de Tienis_, who published a most elegantly printed work upon Aristotle's four books of Meteors, _printed by Maufer_, in 1476, folio; and of which the copy in the Salzburg library was adorned by the head (just mentioned) of the Editor. _Æd. Althorp._ vol. ii. p. 134. Among the books purchased, were two exquisite copies, filled with wood cuts, relating to the Æsopian Fables: a copy of one of which, entitled _Æsopus Moralisatus_, was, I think, sold at the sale of the Duke of Marlborough's books, in 1819, for somewhere about 13l. [88] In Hartmann Schedel's time, Salzburg--which was then considered as the CAPITAL OF BAVARIA--"was surrounded by great walls, and was adorned by many beautiful buildings of temples and monasteries." A view of Salzburg, which was formerly called JUVAVIA, is subjoined in the _Nuremberg Chronicle_, fol. CLIII. _edit._ 1493. Consult also the _Chronicon Gotvvicense_, 1732, folio, pt. ii. p. 760--for some particulars respecting the town taking its name from the river _Juvavia_ or _Igonta_. Salzburg was an Archbishopric founded by Charlemagne: see the _Script. Rer. German._ edited by _Nidanus et Struvius_, 1726 folio, vol. i. p. 525. [89] On the morning following my arrival at Salzburg, I purchased a card, and small chart of the adjacent country and mountains. Of the latter, the _Gross Klokner_, _Klein Klokner_, are each about 12000 feet above the level of the sea; The _Weisbachhorn_ is about 11000 feet of similar altitude; _Der Hohe Narr_ about the same height; and the _Hohe Warte_ about 10,000; while the _Ankogl_ and _Herzog Ernst_, are 9000 each. The lowest is the _Gaisberg_ of 4000 feet; but there is a regular gradation in height, from the latter, to the Gross Klokner, including about 25 mountains. [Illustration] LETTER VIII. SALZBURG. TO CHREMSMINSTER. THE LAKE GMUNDEN. THE MONASTERY OF CHREMSMINSTER. LINTZ. _Lintz; on the road to Vienna, Aug. 26, 1818._ In order that I may not be too much in arrear in my correspondence, I snatch an hour or two at this place, to tell you what have been my sights and occupations since I quitted the extraordinary spot whence I last addressed you. Learn therefore, at the outset, that I have been, if possible, more gratified than heretofore. I have shaped my course along devious roads, by the side of huge impending mountains; have skirted more than one lake of wide extent and enchanting transparency; have navigated the celebrated _Lake of Gmunden_ from one end to the other--the greater part of which is surrounded by rocky yet fertilized mountains of a prodigious height;--have entered one of the noblest and richest monasteries of Austria--and darted afterwards through a country, on every side pleasing by nature, and interesting from history. My only regret is, that all this has been accomplished with too much precipitancy; and that I have been compelled to make sketches in my mind, as it were, when the beauty of the objects demanded a finished picture. I left Salzburg on the afternoon after writing my last epistle; and left it with regret at not having been able to pay a visit to the salt mines of _Berchtesgaden_ and _Hallein_: but "non omnia possumus omnes." The first stage, to _Koppf_, was absolutely up hill, the whole way, a short German league and a half: probably about seven English miles. We were compelled to put a leader to our two horses, and even then we did little more than creep. But the views of the country we had left behind us, as we continued ascending, were glorious in the extreme. Each snow-capt mountain appeared to rise in altitude--as we continued to mount. Our views however were mere snatches. The sun was about to set in a bed of rain. Large black clouds arose; which, although they added to the grandeur of picturesque composition, prevented us from distinctly surveying the adjacent country. Masses of deep purple floated along the fir-clad hills: now partially illumined by the sun's expiring rays, and now left in deep shadow--to be succeeded by the darkness of night. The sun was quite set as we stopped to change horses at _Koppf_: and a sort of premature darkness came on:--which, however, was relieved for a short time by a sky of partial but unusual clearness of tint. The whole had a strange and magical effect. As the horses were being put to, I stepped across the road to examine the interior of a small church--where I observed, in the side aisle, a group of figures of the size of life--which, at that sombre hour, had a very extraordinary effect. I approached nearer, and quickly perceived that this group was intended to represent the _Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane_. Our Saviour, at a little distance, was upon his knees, praying; and the piety of some _religieuse_ (as I afterwards learnt) had caused a white handkerchief to be fixed between his hands. The disciples were represented asleep, upon the ground. On coming close to the figures (which were raised upon a platform, of half the height of a man) and removing the moss upon which they were recumbent, I found that they were mere _trunks_, without legs or feet: the moss having been artfully placed, so as to conceal these defects when the objects were seen at a distance. Of course it was impossible to refrain from a smile, on witnessing such a sight. The horses were harnessed in ten minutes; and, having no longer any occasion for a leader, we pursued our route with the usual number of two. The evening was really enchanting; and upon the summit of one of the loftiest of the hills--which rose perpendicularly as a bare sharp piece of rock--we discerned a pole, which we conjectured was fixed there for some particular purpose. The postilion told us that it was the stem of the largest fir-tree in the country, and that there were annual games celebrated around it--in the month of May, when its summit was crowned with a chaplet. Our route was now skirted on each side, alternately, by water and by mountain. The _Mande See_, _Aber See_, and _Aller See_, (three beautiful lakes) lay to the left; of which we caught, occasionally, from several commanding heights, most magnificent views--as the last light of day seemed to linger upon their surfaces. They are embosomed in scenery of the most beautiful description. When we reached _St. Gilgen_, or _Gilling_, we resolved upon passing the night there. It was quite dark, and rather late, when we entered this miserable village; but within half a league of it, we ran a very narrow chance of being overturned, and precipitated into a roaring, rapid stream, just below the road--along the banks of which we had been sometime directing our course. A fir-pole lay across the road, which was undiscernible from the darkness of the night; and the carriage, receiving a violent concussion, and losing its balance for a moment--leaning over the river--it was doubtful what would be the issue. Upon entering the archway of the inn, or rather public house--from the scarcity of candles, and the ignorance of rustic ostlers, the door of the carriage (it being accidentally open) was completely wrenched from the body. Never, since our night's lodging at _Saudrupt_,[90] had we taken up our quarters at so miserable an auberge. The old woman, our landlady, seemed almost to cast a suspicious eye upon us; but the valet in a moment disarmed her suspicions. It was raw, cold, and late; but the kitchen fire was yet in full force, and a few earthen-ware utensils seemed to contain something in the shape of eatables. You should know, that the kitchen fire-places, in Germany, are singularly situated; at least all those at the public inns where we have stopped. A platform, made of brick, of the height of about three feet, is raised in the centre of the floor. The fire is in the centre of the platform. You look up, and see directly the open sky through the chimney, which is of a yawning breadth below, but which narrows gradually towards the top. It was so cold, that I requested a chair to be placed upon the platform, and I sat upon it--close to the kitchen fire--receiving very essential benefit from the position. All the kitchen establishment was quickly put in requisition: and, surrounded by cook and scullion--pots, pans, and culinary vessels of every description--I sat like a monarch upon his throne: while Mr. Lewis was so amused at the novelty of the scene, that he transferred it to his sketch-book. It was midnight when we attacked our _potage_--in the only visitor's bed-room in the house. Two beds, close to each other, each on a sloping angle of nearly forty-five degrees, were to receive our wearied bodies. The _matériel_ of the beds was _straw_; but the sheets were white and well aired, and edged (I think) with a narrow lace; while an eider down quilt--like a super-incumbent bed--was placed upon the first quilt. It was scarcely day-light, when Mr. Lewis found himself upon the floor, awoke from sleep, having gradually slid down. By five o'clock, the smith's hammer was heard at work below--upon the door of the dismembered carriage--and by the time we had risen at eight o'clock, the valet reported to us that the job was just _then_ ... in the very state in which it was at its _commencement_! So much for the reputation of the company of white-smiths at _St. Gilgen_. We were glad to be off by times; but I must not quit this obscure and humble residence without doing the landlady the justice to say, that her larder and kitchen enabled us to make a very hearty breakfast. This, for the benefit of future travellers--benighted like ourselves. The morning lowered, and some soft rain fell as we started: but, by degrees, the clouds broke away, and we obtained a complete view of the enchanting country through which we passed--as we drove along by the banks of the _Aber_ lake, to _Ischel_. One tall, sharp, and spirally-terminating rock, in particular, kept constantly in view before us, on the right; of which the base and centre were wholly feathered with fir. It rose with an extraordinary degree of abruptness, and seemed to be twice as high as the spire of Strasbourg cathedral. To the left, ran sparkling rivulets, as branches of the three lakes just mentioned. An endless variety of picturesque beauty--of trees, rocks, greenswards, wooded heights, and glen-like passes--canopied by a sky of the deepest and most brilliant blue--were the objects upon which we feasted till we reached _Ischel_: where we changed horses. Here we observed several boats, of a peculiarly long and narrow form, laden with salt, making their way for the _Steyer_ and _Ens_ rivers, and from thence to the Danube. To describe what we saw, all the way till we reached the _Traun See_, or the LAKE OF GMUNDEN, would be only a repetition of the previous description. At _Inderlambach_, close to the lake in question, we stopped to dine. This is a considerable village, or even country town. On the heights are well-trimmed gravel walks, from which you catch a commanding view of the hither end of the lake; and of which the sight cheered us amazingly. We longed to be afloat. There is a great manufactory of salt carried on upon these heights--at the foot of which was said to be the best inn in the town. Thither we drove: and if high charges form the test of the excellence of an inn, there is good reason to designate this, at _Inderlambach_, as such. We snatched a hasty meal, (for which we had nearly fifteen florins to pay) being anxious to get the carriage and luggage aboard one of the larger boats, used in transporting travellers, before the sun was getting too low ... that we might see the wonders of the scenery of which we had heard so much. It was a bright, lovely afternoon; and about half-past six we were all, with bag and baggage, on board. Six men, with oars resembling spades in shape, were to row us; and a seventh took the helm. The water was as smooth as glass, and of a sea-green tint, which might have been occasioned by the reflection of the dark and lofty wood and mountainous scenery, by which the lake is surrounded. The rowers used their oars so gently, as hardly to make us sensible of their sounds. The boat glided softly along; and it was evident, from the varying forms of the scenery, that we were making considerable way. We had a voyage of at least nine English miles to accomplish, ere we reached the opposite extremity--called _Gmunden_; and where we were told that the inn would afford us every accommodation which we might wish. On reaching the first winding or turning of the lake, to the left, a most magnificent and even sublime object--like a mountain of rock--presented itself to the right. It rose perpendicularly--vast, craggy, and of a height, I should suppose, little short of 2000 feet. Its gray and battered sides--now lighted up by the varied tints of a setting sun--seemed to have been ploughed by many a rushing torrent, and covered by many a winter's snow. Meanwhile the lake was receiving, in the part nearest to us, a breadth of deep green shadow, as the sun became lower and lower. The last faint scream of the wild fowl gave indication that night was coming on; and the few small fishermen's huts, with which the banks were slightly studded, began to fade from the view. Yet the summit of the mountain of rock, which I have just mentioned, was glowing with an almost golden hue. I cannot attempt a more minute description of this enchanting scene. One thing struck me very forcibly. This enormous rocky elevation seemed to baffle all our attempts to _near_ it--and yet it appeared as if we were scarcely a quarter of a mile from it. This will give you some notion of its size and height. At length, the scenery of the lake began to change--into a more quiet and sober character.... We had now passed the rocky mountain, and on looking upon its summit, we observed that the golden glow of sunshine had subsided into a colour of pale pink, terminating in alternate tints of purple and slate. Almost the whole landscape had faded from the eye, when we reached the end of our voyage; having been more than two hours upon the lake. On disembarking, we made directly for the inn--where we found every thing even exceeding what we had been led to expect--and affording a very striking and comfortable contrast to the quarters of the preceding evening at St. Gilgen. Sofas, carpets, lustres, and two good bed-rooms--a set of china which might have pleased a German baron--all glittered before our eyes, and shewed us that, if we were not well satisfied, the fault would be our own. The front windows of the hotel commanded a direct and nearly uninterrupted length-view of the lake; and if the full moon had risen ... but one cannot have every thing one wants--even at the hotel of Gmunden. We ordered a good fire, and wax candles to be lighted; a chafing dish, filled with live charcoal caused a little cloud of steam to be emitted from a copper kettle--of which the exterior might have been _cleaned_ ... during the _last_ century. But we travelled with our own tea; and enjoyed a succession of cups which seemed to make us "young and lusty as eagles:" and which verified all the pleasing things said in behalf of this philosophical beverage by the incomparable Cowper. Mr. Lewis spent two hours in _penning in_ his drawings; and I brushed up my journal---opened my map--and catechised the landlord about the MONASTERY of CHREMSMINSTER, which it was resolved to visit on the following (Sunday) morning. Excellent beds (not "sloping in an angle of 45 degrees"--) procured us a comfortable night's rest. In the morning, we surveyed the lake, the village, and its immediate vicinity. We inspected two churches, and saw a group of women devoutly occupied in prayer by the side of a large tombstone--in a cemetery at a distance from any church. The tombstones in Germany are whimsical enough. Some look like iron cross-bows, others like crosses; some nearly resemble a gibbet; and others a star. They are usually very slender in their structure, and of a height scarcely exceeding four or five feet. By eleven in the morning, the postboy's bugle sounded for our departure. The carriage and horses were at the door: the postboy, arrayed in an entirely new scarlet jacket, with a black velvet collar edged with silver lace, the livery of Austria, was mounted upon a strong and lofty steed; and the travellers being comfortably seated, the whip sounded, and off we went, up hill, at a good round cantering pace. A large congregation, which was quitting a church in the vicinity of the inn, gazed at us, as we passed, with looks and gestures as if they had never seen two English travellers before. The stage from Gmunden to Chremsminster is very long and tedious; but by no means devoid of interest. We halted an hour to rest the horses, about half-way on the route; which I should think was full eight English miles from the place of starting. On leaving Gmunden, and gaining the height of the neighbouring hills, we looked behind, or rather to the right, upon the _back_ part of that chain of hills and rocks which encircle the lake over which we had passed the preceding evening. The sky was charged with large and heavy clouds; and a broad, deep, and as it were stormy, tint of dark purple ... mantled every mountain which we saw--with the exception of our old gigantic friend, of which the summit was buried in the clouds. At a given distance, you form a tolerably good notion of the altitude of mountains; and from this latter view of those in question, I should think that the highest may be about 3000 feet above the level of the lake. It was somewhere upon two o'clock when we caught the first glimpse of the spire and lofty walls of the MONASTERY OF CHREMSMINSTER. This monastery is hid by high ground,--till you get within a mile of the town of _Chrems_; so called, from a river, of the same name, which washes almost the walls of the monastery. I cannot dissemble the joy I felt on the first view of this striking and venerable edifice. It is situated on a considerable eminence--and seems to be built upon a foundation of rock. Its mosque-fashioned towers, the long range of its windows, and height of its walls, cannot fail to arrest the attention very forcibly. Just on the spot where we caught the first view of it, the road was not only very precipitous, but was under repair; which made it absolutely perilous. The skill of our postilion, however extricated us from all danger; and on making the descent, I opened my portmanteau in front of me--which was strapped to the back-seat of the carriage--pulled out the green silk purse which I had purchased at Dieppe, within a few hours of my landing in France--and introducing my hand into it, took from thence some dozen or twenty napoleons--observing at the same time, to Mr. Lewis, and pointing to the monastery--that "these pieces would probably be devoted to the purchasing of a few book-treasures from the library of the edifice in view." In five minutes we drove up to the principal, or rather only inn, which the town seemed to afford. The first thing I did, was, to bespeak an immediate dinner, and to send a messenger, with a note (written in Latin) to the Vice Principal or Librarian of the monastery--"requesting permission to inspect the library, being English travellers bound for Vienna." No answer was returned ... even on the conclusion of our dinner; when,--on calling a council, it was resolved that we should take the valet and a guide with us, and immediately assail the gates of the Monastery. I marched up the steep path which leads to these gates, with the most perfect confidence in the success of my visit. Vespers were just concluded; and three or four hundred at least of the population of Chrems were pouring forth from the church doors, down the path towards the town. On entering the quadrangle in which the church is situated, we were surprised at its extent, and the respectability of its architecture. We then made for the church--along the cloisters--and found it nearly deserted. A few straggling supplicants were however left behind--ardent in prayer, upon their knees: but the florid style of the architecture of the interior of this church immediately caught my attention and admiration. The sides are covered with large oil paintings, which look like copies of better performances; while, at each lower corner of these pictures, stands a large figure of a saint, boldly sculptured, as if to support the painting. Throwing your eye along this series of paintings and sculpture, on each side of the church, the whole has a grand and imposing effect--while the _subjects_ of some of the paintings, describing the tortures of the damned, or the occupations of the good, cannot fail, in the mind of an enthusiastic devotee, to produce a very powerful sensation. The altars here, as usual in Germany, and even at Lauffen and Koppf--are profusely ornamented. We had hardly retreated from the church--lost in the variety of reflections excited by the novelty of every surrounding object--when I perceived a Benedictin, with his black cap upon his head, walking with a hurried step towards us ... along the cloisters. As he approached, he pulled off his cap, and saluted us very graciously: pouring forth a number of sentences, in the Latin language, (for he could not speak a word of French) with a fluency and rapidity of utterance, of which, I could have no conception; and of which, necessarily, I could not comprehend one half. Assuming a more leisurely method of address, he asked me, what kind of books I was more particularly anxious to see: and on replying "those more especially which were printed in the fifteenth century--the "_Incunabula_"--he answered, "come with me; and, although the librarian be absent, I will do my utmost to assist you." So saying, we followed him into his cell, a mere cabin of a room: where I observed some respectably-looking vellum-clad folios, and where his bed occupied the farther part. He then retired for the key: returned in five seconds, and requested that we would follow him up stairs. We mounted two flights of a noble staircase; the landing-place of the _first_ of which communicated with a lofty and magnificent, arched corridor:--running along the whole side of the quadrangle. The library is situated at the very top of the building, and occupies (as I should apprehend) one half of the side of the quadrangle. It is a remarkably handsome and cheerful room, divided into three slightly indicated compartments; and the colour, both of the wainscot and of the backs of the books, is chiefly white. The first thing that struck me was, the almost unbounded and diversified view from thence. I ran to the windows--but the afternoon had become black and dismal, and the rain was descending fast on all sides; yet, in the haze of distance, I thought I could discern the chain of huge mountains near the lake of Gmunden. Their purple sides and craggy summits yet seemed to rise above the clouds, which were resting upon the intermediate country, and deluging it with rain. The Benedictin confirmed my suspicions as to the identity of the country before us, and then bade me follow, him quickly. I followed M. HARTENSCHNEIDER (for so the worthy Benedictin wrote his name) to the further division, or compartment of the library; and turning to the left, began an attack upon the _Fifteeners_--which were placed there, on the two lowest shelves. My guide would not allow of my taking down the books ... from sheer politeness. "They might prove burdensome"--as if _any thing_, in the shape of a book, could be considered a BURDEN! The first volume I opened, was one of the most beautiful copies imaginable--utterly beyond all competition, for purity and primitiveness of condition--of Schoiffher's edition of _St. Austin de Civitate Dei_, with the Commentary of Trivetus, of the date of 1473. That work is everywhere--in all forms, types, and conditions--upon the continent. The worthy M. Hartenschneider seemed to be marvellously pleased with the delight I expressed on the view of this magnificent volume. He then placed before me the _Catholicon_ of 1469, by G. Zainer: a cropt, but clean and desirable copy. Upon my telling him that I had not long ago seen a copy of it UPON VELLUM, in the Public Library at Munich, he seemed to be mute and pensive... and to sigh somewhat inwardly. Pausing awhile, he resumed, by telling me that the ONLY treasure they had possessed, in the shape of a VELLUM BOOK, was a copy of the same work of St. Austin, printed chiefly by _John de Spira_ (but finished by his brother _Vindelin_) of the date of 1470; but with which, and many other book-curiosities, the French general _Lecourbe_ chose to march away; in the year 1800. That cruel act of spoliation was commemorated, or revenged, by an angry Latin distich. I was also much gratified by a beautifully clean copy of the _Durandi Rationale_ by I. Zeiner, of the date of 1474: as well as with the same printer's _Aurea Biblia_, of the same date, which is indeed almost every where upon the Continent. But nothing came perfectly up to the copy of Schoiffher's edition of the _De Civ. Dei._ M. Hartenschneider added, that the Imperial Library at Vienna had possessed itself of their chief rarities in early typography: but he seemed to exult exceedingly on mentioning the beautiful and perfect state of their DELPHIN CLASSICS. "Do you by chance possess the _Statius_?--" observed I. "Come and see--" replied my guide: and forthwith he took me into a recess, or closet, where my eye was greeted with one of the most goodly book-sights imaginable. There they all stood--those Delphin Classics--in fair array and comeliest condition. I took down the Statius, and on returning it, exclaimed "Exemplar pulcherrimum et optime conservatum." "Pretiosissimumque," rejoined my cicerone. "And the _Prudentius_--good M. Hartenschneider--do you possess it?" "Etiam"--replied he. "And the _Catullus_, _Tibullus_, and _Propertius_?" They were there also: but one of the volumes, containing the Tibullus, was with a brother monk. That monk (thought I to myself) must have something of a tender heart. "But tell me, worthy and learned Sir, (continued I) why so particular about the _Statius_? Here are twenty golden pieces:" (they were the napoleons, taken from the forementioned silken purse[91])--"will these procure the copy in question?" "It is in vain you offer any thing: (replied M. Hartenschneider) we have refused this very copy even to Princes and Dukes." "Listen then to me:" resumed I: "It seems you want that great work, such an ornament to our own country, and so useful to every other--the _Monasticon Anglicanum of Sir William Dugdale_. Will you allow me to propose a fair good copy of that admirable performance, in exchange for your Statius?" "I can promise nothing--replied M. Hartenschneider--as that matter rests entirely with the superiors of the monastery; but what you say appears to be very reasonable; and, for myself, I should not hesitate one moment, in agreeing to the proposed exchange." My guide then gave me to understand that he was _Professor of History_; and that there were not fewer than one hundred monks upon the establishment. I was next intreated, together with my travelling friend and our valet, to stop and pass the night there. We were told that it was getting late and dark; and that there was only a cross road between Chrems and _Ens_, in the route to _Lintz_--to which latter place we were going. "You cannot reach Lintz (said our hospitable attendant) before midnight; but rain and darkness are not for men with nice sensibilities to encounter. You and your friend, and eke your servant, shall not lack a hospitable entertainment. Command therefore your travelling equipage to be brought hither. You see (added he smiling) we have room enough for all your train. I beseech you to tarry with us." This is almost a literal version of what M. Hartenschneider said--and he said it fluently, and even in an impassioned manner. I thanked him again and again; but declared it to be impossible to comply with his kind wishes. "The hospitality of your order (observed I to the Professor) is equal to its learning." M. Hartenschneider bowed: and then taking me by the arm, exclaimed, "well, since you cannot be prevailed upon to stay, you must make the most of your time. Come and see one or two of our more ancient MSS." He then placed before me an _Evangelistarium_ of the eighth century, which he said had belonged to Charlemagne, the founder of the monastery.[92] It was one of the most perfect pieces of calligraphy which I had ever seen; perhaps superior to that in the Public Library at Landshut. But this MS. is yet more precious, as containing, what is considered to be, a compact between Charlemagne and the first Abbot of the Monastery, executed by both parties. I looked at it with a curious and sceptical eye, and had scarcely the courage to _doubt_ its authenticity. The art which it exhibits, in the illuminations of the figures of the Evangelists, is sufficiently wretched--compared with the specimens of the same period in the celebrated MS. (also once belonging to Charlemagne) in the private library of the King at Paris.[93] I next saw a MS. of the _Sonnets of Petrarch_, in a small folio, or super royal octavo size, supposed to have been executed in the fifteenth century, about seventy years after the death of the poet. It is beautifully written in a neat roman letter, and evidently the performance of an Italian scribe; but it may as likely be a copy, made in the early part of the fifteenth century, of a MS. of the previous century. However, it is doubtless a precious MS. The ornaments are sparingly introduced, and feebly executed. On quitting these highly interesting treasures, M. H. and myself walked up and down the library for a few minutes, (the rain descending in torrents the whole time) and discoursed upon the great men of my own country. He mentioned his acquaintance with the works of Bacon, Locke, Swift, and Newton--and pronounced the name of the last ... with an effervescence of feeling and solemnity of utterance amounting to a sort of adoration. "Next to Newton," said he, "is your Bacon: nor is the interval between them _very_ great: but, in my estimation, Newton is more an angel than a mortal. He seemed to have been always communing with the Deity." "All this is excellent, Sir,--replied I: but you say not one word about our divine _Shakspeare_." "Follow me--rejoined he--and you shall see that I am not ignorant of that wonderful genius--and that I do not talk without book." Whereupon M.H. walked, or rather ran, rapidly to the other end of the library, and put into my hands _Baskerville's Edition_ of that poet,[94] of the date of 1768--which I frankly told him I had never before seen. This amused him a good deal; but he added, that the greater part of Shakspeare was incomprehensible to him, although he thoroughly understood _Swift_, and read him frequently. It was now high time to break off the conversation, interesting as it might be, and to think of our departure: for the afternoon was fast wearing away, and a starless, if not a tempestuous, night threatened to succeed. Charles Rohfritsch was despatched to the inn below--to order the horses, settle the reckoning, and to bring the carriage as near to the monastery as possible. Meanwhile Mr. L. and myself descended with M. Hartenschneider to his own room--where I saw, for the first time, the long-sought after work of the _Annales Hirsaugienses_ of _Trithemius_, _printed in the Monastery of St. Gall_ in 1690, 2 vols., folio, lying upon the Professor's table. M.H. told me that the copy belonged to the library we had just quitted. I had indeed written to Kransfelder, a bookseller at Augsbourg, just before leaving Munich, for _two_ copies of that rare and estimable work--which were inserted in his sale catalogue; and I hope to be lucky enough to secure both--for scarcely ten shillings of our money.[95] It now only remained to bid farewell to the most kind, active, and well-informed M. Hartenschneider--and to quit (probably for ever) the MONASTERY OF CHREMSMINSTER. Like the worthy Professor Veesenmeyer at Ulm, he "committed me to God's especial good providence--" and insisted upon accompanying me, uncovered, to the very outer gates of the monastery: promising, all the way, that, on receiving my proposals in writing, respecting the Statius, he would promote that object with all the influence he might possess.[96] Just as he had reached the further limits of the quadrangle, he met the librarian himself--and introduced me to him: but there was now only time to say "Vale!" We shook hands--for the first ... and in all probability ... the last time. Every thing was in readiness--on reaching the bottom of the hill. A pair of small, and apparently young and mettlesome horses, were put to the carriage: the postilion was mounted; and nothing remained but to take our seats, and bid adieu to _Chrems_ and its Monastery. The horses evinced the fleetness of rein deer at starting; and on enquiring about their age and habits, I learnt that they were scarcely _three_ years old--had been just taken from the field--and had been but _once_ before in harness. This intelligence rather alarmed us. However, we continued to push vigorously forward, along a very hilly road, in which no difference whatever was made between ascents and descents. It was a good long sixteen mile stage; and darkness and a drizzling rain overtook us ere we had got over half of it. There were no lights to the carriage, and the road was the most devious I had ever travelled. The horses continued to fly like the wind, and the charioteer began to express his fatigue in holding them in. At length we saw the light of _Ens_, to the right--the first post town on the high road from Lintz to Vienna. This led us to expect to reach the main road quickly. We passed over a long wooden bridge--under which the river Ens, here broad and rapid, runs to empty itself into the Danube: and... nearer the hour of eleven than ten, we drove to the principal inn in the Place. It was fair time: and the town of LINTZ was glittering with lights, and animated by an unusual stir of population. The centre of the _Place_ or Square, where the inn is situated, was entirely filled by booths; and it was with difficulty we could gain admission within the inn, or secure rooms when admitted. However, we had no reason to complain, for the chambermaid (an exceedingly mirthful and active old woman) assured us that Lord and Lady Castlereagh on their route to Vienna in 1815, had occupied the very beds which she had destined for us. These beds were upon the second floor, in a good large room, warmed by a central stove of earthenware tiles--the usual fireplace in Germany. The first floor of the inn was wholly occupied by travellers, merchants, dealers, and adventurers of every description--the noise of whose vociferations, and the tramp of whose movements, were audible even till long after midnight. I am tarrying in a very large, very populous, and excellently well built town. LINTZ, or LINZ, has a population of at least 20,000 souls: and boasts, with justice, not only of its beautiful public buildings, but of its manufactories of stuffs, silks, and printed calicoes. The _Place_, before this inn, affords evidence of the splendour of these wares; and the interiors of several booths are in a perfect blaze--from the highly ornamented gold gauze caps worn by the upper classes of the middling people, even more brilliant than what was observed at Augsbourg. I was asked equal to four guineas of our money for one of these caps, in my reconnoissance before breakfast this morning--nor, as I afterwards learnt, was the demand exorbitant. I must bid you farewell in haste. I start for Vienna within twenty minutes from this time, and it is now nearly-mid-day. But ere I reach the capital of Austria, I hope to pay a string of MONASTIC VISITS:--beginning with that of _St. Florian_, about a dozen miles from this place, just before you reach Ens, the next post town; so that, ere I again address you (which cannot be until I reach Vienna,) I shall have made rather a rambling and romantic tour. "Omne ignotum pro magnifico"--yet, if I mistake not; (from all that I can collect here) _experience_ will confirm what hope and ignorance suggest. [90] Vol. ii. p. 352-3. [91] See p. 217 ante. [92] It should seem, from the pages of PEZ and NIDANUS, that Charlemagne was either the founder, or the patron, or endower, of almost every monastery in Germany. Stengelius, however, gives a a very romantic origin to the foundation of Chremsminster. "The eldest son of Tassilo, a Duke or Elector of Bavaria, went out a hunting in the winter; when, having been separated from his companions, in a large wood, he met a wild boar of an enormous size, near a fountain and pool of water. Notwithstanding the fearful odds between them, Tassilo gallantly received the animal upon the point of his hunting spear, and dispatched him with a tremendous wound: not however without a fatal result to himself. Rage, agony, and over exertion... proved fatal to the conqueror: and when, excited by the barking of the dogs, his father and the troop of huntsmen came up to see what it might be, they witnessed the spectacle of the boar and the young Tassilo lying DEAD by the side of each other. The father built the MONASTERY of CHREMSMINSTER upon the fatal spot--to the memory of his beloved but unfortunate son. He endowed it with large possessions, and his endowments were confirmed by Pope Adrian and the Emperor Charlemagne--in the year 777. The history of the monastery is lost in darkness, till the year 1046, when Engelbert, Bishop of Passau, consecrated it anew; and in 1165, Diepold, another Bishop of Passau, added greatly to its possessions; but he was, in other respects, as well as Manegold in 1206, a very violent and mischievous character. Bishop Ulric, in 1216, was a great benefactor to it; but I do not perceive when the present building was erected: although it is possible there may be portions of it as old as the thirteenth century. See _Pez: Script. Rer. Austriac._, vol. i. col. 1305, &c.: _vol. ii._ col. 67, &c. At the time of publishing the _Monasteriologia of Stengelius_, 1638, (where there is a bird's-eye view of the monastery, as it now generally appears) Wolffradt (or Wolfardt) was the Abbot--who, in the author's opinion, "had no superior among his predecessors." I go a great way in thinking with Stengelius; for this worthy Abbot built the Monks a "good supper-room, two dormitories, a sort of hospital for the sick, and a LIBRARY, with an abundant stock of new books. Also a sacristy, furnished with most costly robes, &c. _Monasteriologia_; sign. A. It was doubtless the BIBLIOTHECA WOLFRADTIANA in which I tarried--as above described--with equal pleasure and profit. [93] See vol. ii. p. 199. [94] This I presume to be the "spurious" Birmingham edition, which is noticed by Steevens in the _Edit. Shakspeare_, 1813. 8vo. vol. ii. p. 151. [95] They were both secured. One copy is now in the ALTHORP LIBRARY, and the other in that of Mr. Heber. [96] On the very night of my arrival at Lintz, late as it was, I wrote a letter to the Abbot, or head of the monastery, addressed thus--as the Professor had written it down: "_Ad Reverendissimum Dominum Anselmum Mayerhoffer inclyti Monasterii Cremifanensis Abbatem vigilantissimum Cremifanum_." This was enclosed in a letter to the Professor himself with the following direction: "_Ad Rev. Dm. Udalricum Hartenschneider Professum Monasterij Cremifanensis et Historiæ ibidem Professorem publicum. Cremifanum_:" the Professor having put into my hands the following written memorandum: "Pro commutandis--quos designasti in Bibliotheca nostra, libris--primo Abbatem adire, aut litteris saltem interrogare necesse est: quas, si tibi placuerit, ad me dirigere poteris." [Autograph] This he wrote with extreme rapidity. In my letter, I repeated the offer about the Monasticon; with the addition of about a dozen napoleons for the early printed books above mentioned; requesting to have an answer, poste restante, at Vienna. No answer has since reached me. The Abbot should seem to have preferred Statius to Dugdale. [But his Statius NOW has declined wofully in pecuniary worth: while the Dugdale, in its newly edited form, has risen threefold.] LETTER IX. THE MONASTERIES OF ST. FLORIAN, MÖLK, AND GÖTTWIC. _Vienna; Hotel of the Emperor of Hungary, Aug. 31, 1818._ MY DEAR FRIEND; Give me your heartiest congratulations; for I have reached, and am well lodged at, the extreme limit of my "BIBLIOGRAPHICAL, ANTIQUARIAN, AND PICTURESQUE TOUR." Behold me, therefore, at VIENNA, the capital of Austria: once the abode of mighty monarchs and renowned chieftains: and the scene probably of more political vicissitudes than any other capital in Europe. The ferocious Turk, the subtle Italian, and the impetuous Frenchman, have each claimed Vienna as their place of residence by right of conquest; and its ramparts have been probably battered by more bullets and balls than were ever discharged at any other fortified metropolis. At present, however, my theme must be entirely monastic. Prepare, therefore, to receive an account of some MONASTIC VISITS, which have perfectly won my heart over to the Institutions of ST. BENEDICT and ST. AUGUSTIN. Indeed I seem to have been mingling with a new set of human beings, and a new order of things; though there was much that put me in mind of the general character of my ever-cherished University of Oxford. Not that there is _any one_ college, whether at Oxford or at Cambridge, which in point of architectural magnificence, can vie with some of those which I am about to describe. My last letter, as you may remember, left us upon the point of starting from Lintz, for the monastery of ST. FLORIAN. That monastery is situated within about three miles of _Ens_, the next post town from Lintz. The road thither was lined, on each side, with the plum and the pear tree--in their alternate tints of saffron and purple--but far from being ripe. The sight, altogether, was as pleasing as it was novel: and especially were my spirits gladdened, on thinking of the fortunate escape from the perils that had seemed to have awaited us in our route from Chremsminster the preceding evening. On turning out of the main road, about a dozen miles from Lintz, we began to be sensible of a gentle ascent,--along a pleasant, undulating road, skirted by meadows, copses, and corn-fields. In ten minutes, the valet shouted out--"_Voilà le Monastère de St. Florian!_" It was situated upon an eminence, of scarcely half the height of Chremsminster; but, from the abruptness of the ascent, as you enter the village, and make towards the monastery, it appears, on an immediate approach, to be of a very considerable elevation. It looked nobly, as we neared it. The walls were massive, and seemed to be embedded in a foundation of granite. Some pleasing little cultivated spots, like private gardens, were between the outer walls and the main body of the building. It rained heavily as we rolled under the archway; when an old man and an old woman demanded, rather with astonishment than severity, what was the object of our visit? Having received a satisfactory answer, the gates were opened, and we stopped between two magnificent flights of steps, leading on each side to the cloisters. Several young monks, excited by the noise of the carriage, came trooping towards the top of the stairs, looking down upon us, and retreating, with the nimbleness and apparent timidity of deer. Their white streamers, or long lappets, suspended from the back of the black gown, (the designation of the _Augustine_ order) had a very singular appearance. Having received a letter of recommendation to the librarian, M. KLEIN, I delivered it to the porter--and in a few seconds observed two short monks uncovered, advancing towards me. M. Klein spoke French--after a certain fashion--which however made us understand one another well enough; and on walking along the cloisters, he took me by the arm to conduct me to the Abbot. "But you have doubtless _dined_?" observed he,--turning sharply upon me. It was only between one and two o'clock; and therefore I thought I might be pardoned, even by the severest of their own order, for answering in the _negative_. My guide then whispered to his attendant (who quickly disappeared) and carried me directly to the Abbot. Such a visit was worth paying. I entered with great solemnity; squeezing my travelling cap into a variety of forms, as I made obeisance,--on observing a venerable man, nearer fourscore than seventy, sitting, with a black cap quite at the back part of his head, and surrounded by half a dozen young monks, who were standing and waiting upon him with coffee (after dinner) which was placed upon the table before him. He was the Principal. The old gentleman's countenance was wan, and rather severely indented, but lighted up by a dark and intelligent pair of eyes. His shoulders were shrouded in a large gray fur tippet; and, on receiving me, he demonstrated every mark of attention--by giving his unfinished cup of coffee to one of his attendants, and, pulling off his cap, endeavouring to rise. I advanced and begged there might be no further movement. As he spoke French, we quickly understood each other. He bade me see every thing that was worth seeing; and, on his renewing the _dinner_ question, and receiving an answer in the negative, he commanded that a meal of some sort should be forthwith got ready. In this, however, he had been anticipated by the librarian. I made my retreating bow, and followed my guide who, by this time, had assumed quite a pleasant air of familiarity with me. I accompanied him to the Library. It is divided into three rooms; of which the largest, at the further end, is the most characteristic. The central room is small, and devoted to MSS. none as I learnt, either very old, very curious, or very valuable. The view from this suite of apartments must, on a fine day, be lovely. Bad as was the weather, when I looked from the windows, I observed, to the left, some gently sloping and sweetly wooded pleasure grounds, with the town of _Ens_, in the centre, at the distance of about three miles. To the right, were more undulating hills, with rich meadows in the foreground; while, immediately below, was the ornamented garden of the monastery. The prospect _within_ doors was not quite of so gratifying a description. It seemed to be the mere shadow of a library. Of old books, indeed, I saw nothing worth noticing--except a white and crackling, but cropt, copy of _Ratdolt's Appian_ of 1478, (always a beautiful book) and a _Latin Version of Josephus_, printed at Venice in 1480 by _Maufer_, a citizen of Rouen. This latter was really a very fine book. There was also _Ratdolt's Euclid_ of 1485--which indeed is every where abroad--but which generally has variations in the marginal diagrams. Of _Bibles_, either Latin or German, I saw nothing more ancient than the edition by Sorg, in the _German_ language of the date of 1477. I paused an instant over the _Tyturell_ of 1477, (the only really scarce book in the collection) and threw a gilded bait before the librarian, respecting the acquisition of it;--but M. Klein quite _screamed_ aloud at the proposition--protesting that "not a single leaf from a single book should be parted with!" "You are quite right," added I. "My guide eyed me as if he could have said, "How much at variance are your thoughts and words!" And yet I spake very sincerely. Mr. Klein then placed a clean, but cropt, copy of the _first Aldine Pindar_ before me; adding, that he understood it to be rare. "It is most rare," rejoined I:--but it is yet "rarer than most rare" when found UPON VELLUM!--as it is to be seen in Lord Spencer's library." He seemed absolutely astonished at this piece of intelligence--and talked about its pecuniary value. "No money can purchase it. It is beyond all price"--rejoined I. Whereupon my guide was struck with still deeper astonishment. There were all the _Polyglott Bibles_, with the exception of the _Complutensian_; which appears to be uncommon in the principal libraries upon the continent. _Walton's Polyglott_ was the Royal copy; which led to a slight discussion respecting the Royal and Republican copies. M. Klein received most implicitly all my bibliographical doctrine upon the subject, and expressed a great desire to read Dr. Adam Clarke's Essay upon the same. When I spoke of the small number of copies upon LARGE PAPER, he appeared to marvel more than ever--and declared "how happy the sight of such a copy would make him, from his great respect for the Editor!" There was a poor sprinkle of _English books_; among which however, I noticed Shakspeare, Milton, Swift, and Thomson; I had declared myself sufficiently satisfied with the inspection of the library, when dinner was announced; but could not reconcile it to myself to depart, without asking "whether they had the _Tewrdanckh_?" "Yes, and UPON VELLUM, too!" was the Librarian's reply. It was a good sound copy. The dinner was simple and nourishing. The wine was what they call the white wine of Austria: rather thin and acid. It still continued to rain. Our friends told us that, from the windows of the room in which we were eating, they could, in fair weather; discern the snow-capt mountains of the Tyrol:--that, from one side of their monastery they could look upon green fields, pleasure gardens, and hanging woods, and from the other, upon magnificent ranges of hills terminated by mountains covered with snow. They seemed to be proud of their situation, as they had good reason to be. I found them exceedingly chatty, pleasant, and even facetious. I broached the subject of politics--but in a very guarded and general manner. The lively Librarian, however, thought proper to observe--"that the English were doing in _India_ what Bonaparte had been doing in _Europe_." I told him that such a doctrine was a more frightful heresy than any which had ever crept into his own church: at which he laughed heartily, and begged we would not spare either the _bouillé_ or the wine. We were scarcely twenty minutes at our meal, being desirous of seeing the CHURCH, the PICTURE GALLERY, and the SALOON--belonging to the monastery. It was not much after three o'clock, and yet it was unusually dark for the hour of the day. However, we followed our guides along a magnificent corridor--desirous of seeing the pictures first. If the number of paintings, and of apartments alone, constitute a good collection of pictures, this of Saint Florian is doubtless a very fair specimen of a picture gallery. There are three rooms and a corridor (or entrance passage) filled with paintings, of which three fourths at least are palpable copies. The _subjects_ of some of the paintings were not exactly accordant with monastic gravity; among these I regret that I am compelled to include a copy of a Magdalen from Rubens--and a Satyr and Sleeping Nymph, apparently by Lucas Giordano. Nevertheless the collection is worth a second and a third examination; which, if time and circumstances had allowed, we should in all probability have given it. A series of subjects, fifteen in number, illustrative of the LIFE OF ST. FLORIAN,[97] (the great fire-extinguishing Saint,--to whom the Monastery is dedicated, and who was born at _Ens_, in the neighbourhood) cuts a most distinguished figure in this collection. There is a good, and I think genuine, head of an old woman by Rubens, which I seemed to stumble upon as if by accident, and which was viewed by my guides with a sort of apathy. Mr. Lewis was half lost in extacies before a pretty little sketch by Paolo Veronese; when, on my observing to him that the time was running away fast, M. Klein spoke aloud in the English language--"_Mister Louise_, (repeating my words) _teime fleis_." He laughed heartily upon uttering it, and seemed to enjoy the joke full as much as my companion, to whom the words were addressed. There were several specimens of the old German masters, but I suspect most of them were copies. The day seemed to be growing darker and darker, although it was only somewhere between three and four o'clock. We descended quickly to see the church, where I found Charles (the valet) and several other spectators. We passed through a small sacristy or vestry, in the way to it. This room was fitted up with several small confessionals, of the prettiest forms and workmanship imaginable: having, in front, two twisted and slender columns, of an ebony tint: the whole--exceedingly inviting to confession. Here the Dean met us; a grave, sober, sensible man, with whom I conversed in Latin. We entered the church, on the tip-toe of expectation: nor were we disappointed. It is at once spacious and magnificent; but a little too profuse in architectural ornament. It consists of a nave and transepts, surmounted by a dome, with a choir of very limited dimensions. The choir is adorned, on each side, just above the several stalls, by an exceedingly rich architrave, running the whole length, in a mixed roman and gothic style. The altar, as usual, is a falling off. The transepts are too short, and the dome is too small. The nave is a sort of elongated parallelogram. It is adorned on each side by pillars of the Corinthian order, and terminated by an _Organ_ ... of the most gorgeous and imposing appearance. The pipes have completely the appearance of polished silver, and the wood work is painted white, richly relieved by gold. For size and splendor united, I had never seen any thing like it. The whole was perfectly magical. On entering, the Dean, M. Klein, and three or four more Benedictins, made slight prostrations on one knee, before the altar; and, just as they rose, to our astonishment and admiration, the organ burst forth with a power of intonation (every stop being opened) such as I had never heard exceeded. As there were only a few present, the sounds were necessarily increased, by being reverberated from every part of the building: and for a moment it seemed as if the very dome would have been unroofed, and the sides burst asunder. We looked up; then at each other: lost in surprise, delight, and admiration. We could not hear a word that was spoken; when, in some few succeeding seconds, the diapason stop only was opened ... and how sweet and touching was the melody which it imparted! "Oh Dieu! (exclaimed our valet) que cela est ravissant, et même pénétrant." This was true enough. A solemn stave or two of a hymn (during which a few other pipes were opened) was then performed by the organist ... and the effect was, as if these notes had been chanted by an invisible choir of angels. The darkness of the heavens added much to the solemnity of the whole. Silence ensuing, we were asked how we liked the church, the organ, and the organist? Of course there could be but one answer to make. The pulpit--situated at an angle where the choir and transept meet, and opposite to the place where we entered--was constructed of the black marble of Austria, ornamented with gold: the whole in sober good taste, and admirably appropriate. We left this beautiful interior, to snatch a hasty view of the dormitories and saloon, and to pay our farewell respects to the Principal. The architect of this church was a Florentine, and it was built something more than a century ago. It is doubtless in too florid a style. Instead of calling the bed-chambers by the homely name of "dormitories," they should be designated (some at least), as state bed rooms. At each corner of several of the beds was a carved figure, in gilt--serving as a leg. The beds are generally capacious, without canopies; but their covertures--in crimson, blue, or yellow silk--interspersed with spots of gold or silver--gave indication, in their faded state, of their original costliness and splendor. The rooms are generally large: but I hurried through them, as every thing--from the gloomy state of the afternoon, and more especially from the absence of almost every piece of furniture--had a sombre and melancholy air. Nothing is more impressive than the traces of departed grandeur. They had once (as I learnt) carousals and rejoicings in this monastery;--and the banquet below made sweet and sound the slumbers above. But matters have recently taken a different and less auspicious turn. The building stands, and will long stand--unless assailed by the musquet and cannon--a proud monument of wealth and of art: while the revenues for its support ... are wasting every year! But I hope my intelligence is incorrect. The highest gratification was yet in store for me: in respect to an architectural treat. In our way to the Saloon, I noticed, over the door of a passage, a small whole length of a man, in a formal peruke and dress, walking with a cane in his hand. A noble building or two appeared in the background. "Who might this be?" "That, Sir, (replied the Dean) is the portrait of the architect of THIS MONASTERY and of MÖLK. He was born, and lived, in an obscure village in the neighbourhood; and rose to unrivalled eminence from the pure strength of native genius and prudent conduct." I looked at the portrait with increased admiration. "Might I have a copy of it--for the purpose of getting it engraved?" "There can surely be no objection,"--replied the Dean. But alas, my friend, I fear it will never be my lot to possess this portrait--in _any_ form or condition. If my admiration of this architect increased as I continued to gaze upon his portrait, to what a pitch was it raised on entering the _Saloon_! I believe that I may safely say I never before witnessed such a banquetting room. It could not be less than sixty feet long, by forty feet wide and forty high;--and almost entirely composed of Salzburg marble,[98] which is of a deep red tint, but mellow and beautiful. The columns, in exceedingly bold alto-relievo, spring from a dado about the height of a man's chest, and which is surmounted by a bold and beautiful architrave. These columns, of the Ionic and Corinthian orders, judiciously intermixed, rise to a fine bold height: the whole being terminated by a vaulted ceiling of a beautiful and light construction, and elaborately and richly ornamented. I never witnessed a finer proportioned or a more appropriately ornamented room. It is, of its kind, as perfect as the Town Hall at Augsbourg;[99] and suitable for an imperial coronation. To a question respecting the antiquity of the monastery,[100] J M. Klein replied, that their _crypt_ was considered to be of the eleventh century. I had not a moment's leisure to examine it, but have some doubts of the accuracy of such a date. The Dean, M. Klein, and several monks followed us down stairs, where the carriage was drawn up to receive us--and helping us into it, they wished us a hearty farewell. Assuredly I am not likely to forget THE MONASTERY OF ST. FLORIAN. We were not long in reaching _Ens_, the first post town on the high road from Lintz to Vienna. On approaching it, our valet bade us notice the various signs of _reparation_ of which the outer walls and the fronts of many houses gave evidence. Nearly half of the town, in short, (as he informed us) had been destroyed by fire in Bonaparte's advance upon Vienna. The cannon balls had done much, but the flames had done more. We slept at the next post town, _Strengberg_, but could not help continuing to express our surprise and admiration of the fruit trees (the pear and plum) which lined each side of the road. We had determined upon dining at Mölk the next day. The early morning was somewhat inauspicious; but as the day advanced, it grew bright and cheerful. Some delightful glimpses of the Danube, to the left, from the more elevated parts of the road, accompanied us the whole way; till we caught the first view, beneath a bright blue sky, of the towering church and MONASTERY OF MÖLK.[101] Conceive what you please, and yet you shall not conceive the situation of this monastery. Less elevated above the road than Chremsminster, but of a more commanding style of architecture, and of considerably greater extent, it strikes you--as the Danube winds round and washes its rocky base--as one of the noblest edifices in the world. The wooded heights of the opposite side of the Danube crown the view of this magnificent edifice, in a manner hardly to be surpassed. There is also a beautiful play of architectural lines and ornament in the front of the building, indicative of a pure Italian taste, and giving to the edifice, if not the air of towering grandeur, at least of dignified splendour. I send you a small bird's-eye view of it--necessarily furnishing a very inadequate representation--for which I am indebted to Professor Pallas, the Sub-Principal. [Illustration] As usual, I ordered a late dinner, intending to pay my respects to the Principal, and obtain permission to inspect the library. My late monastic visits had inspired me with confidence; and I marched up the steep sides of the hill, upon which the monastery is built, quite assured of the success of the visit I was about to pay. You must now accompany the bibliographer to the monastery. In five minutes from entering the outer gate of the first quadrangle--looking towards Vienna, and which is the more ancient part of the building--I was in conversation with the Vice Principal and Librarian, each of us speaking Latin. I delivered the letter which I had received at Salzburg, and proceeded to the library. In proceeding with the Librarian along the first corridor, I passed a portly figure, with an expressive countenance, dressed precisely like the Duke of Norfolk,[102] in black waistcoat, breeches, and stockings, with a gray coat. He might seem to be a sort of small paper copy of that well-known personage, for he resembled him in countenance as well as in dress. On meeting, he saluted me graciously: and he had no sooner passed, than my guide whispered in my ear, "THAT is the famous bibliographer, the ABBÉ STRATTMAN, late principal librarian to the Emperor." I was struck at this intelligence; and wished to run back after the Abbé,--but, in a minute, found myself within the library. I first went into a long, narrow, room--devoted, the greater part, to MSS.:--and at the hither end of which (that is, the end where I entered) were two figures--as large as, and painted after, the life. They were cut out in wood, or thick pasteboard; and were stuck in the centre of the space between the walls. One was an old gentleman, with a pair of bands, and a lady, his wife, opposite to him. Each was sitting upon a chair. A dog (if I remember rightly) was between them. The effect was at first rather _startling_; for these good folks, although they had been sitting for the best part of a century, looked like life, and as if they were going to rise up, and interrogate you for impertinently intruding upon their privacy. On nearing them, I found that the old gentleman had been a great pedagogue, and a great benefactor to the library: in short, the very MSS. by which we were surrounded were _solid_ proofs of his liberality. I was urgent and particular about the _contents_ of these MSS.; but my guide (otherwise a communicative and well-informed man) answered my questions in a manner so general, as to lead me to conclude that they had never been sufficiently examined. There might be at least four thousand volumes in this long and narrow room. From thence we proceeded, across a passage, to a small room--filled with common useful books, for the young men of which the monastic society is now composed; and who I learnt were about one hundred and twenty in number. There were, however, at one end of this room, some coins and medals. I was curious about ascertaining whether they had any _Greek gold coins_, but was answered that they had none. This room is divided into two, by a partition something like the modern fashion of dividing our drawing rooms. The whole is profusely ornamented with paintings executed upon the walls; rather elegantly than otherwise. The view from this library is really enchanting--and put every thing seen, from a similar situation at Landshut, and almost even at Chremsminster, out of my recollection. You look down upon the Danube, catching a fine sweep of the river, as it widens in its course towards Vienna. A man might sit, read, and gaze--in such a situation--till he fancied he had scarcely one earthly want! I now descended a small stair-case, which brought me directly into the large library--forming the right wing of the building, looking up the Danube towards Lintz. I had scarcely uttered three notes of admiration, when the ABBÉ STRATTMAN entered; and to my surprise and satisfaction, addressed me by name. We immediately commenced an ardent unintermitting conversation in the French language, which the Abbé speaks fluently and correctly. We darted at once into the lore of bibliography of the fifteenth century; when the Abbé descanted largely upon the wonders I should see at Vienna:--especially the Sweynheyms and Pannartz' UPON VELLUM! "Here (continued he) there is absolutely nothing worthy of your inspection. We have here no edit. prin. of _Horace_, or _Virgil_, or _Terence_, or _Lucretius_: a copy of the _Decretals of Pope Boniface_, of the date of 1465, is our earliest and only VELLUM treasure of the XVth century. But you will doubtless take the _Monastery of Göttwic_ in your way?" I replied that I was wholly ignorant of the existence of such a monastery. "Then see it--(said, he) and see it carefully; for the library contains _Incunabula_ of the most curious and scarce kind. Besides, its situation is the noblest in Austria." You will give me credit for not waiting for a _second_ importunity to see such a place, before I answered--"I will most assuredly visit the monastery of Göttwic." I now took a leisurely survey of the library; which is, beyond all doubt, the finest room of its kind which I have seen upon the Continent:--not for its size, but for its style of architecture, and the materials of which it is composed. I was told that it was "the Imperial Library in miniature:"--but with this difference, let me here add, in favour of Mölk--that it looks over a magnificently-wooded country, with the Danube rolling its rapid course at its base. The wainscot and shelves are walnut tree, of different shades, inlaid, or dovetailed, surmounted by gilt ornaments. The pilasters have Corinthian capitals of gilt; and the bolder or projecting parts of a gallery, which surrounds the room, are covered with the same metal. Every thing is in harmony. This library may be about a hundred feet in length, by forty in width. It is sufficiently well furnished with books, of the ordinary useful class, and was once, I suspect, much richer in the bibliographical lore of the fifteenth century. The Abbé Strattman bade me examine a _MS. of Horace_, of the twelfth century, which he said had been inspected by Mitscherlich.[103] It seemed to be of the period adjudged to it. The Vice-Principal, M. PALLAS, now made his appearance. He talked French readily, and we all four commenced a very interesting conversation, "Did any books ever travel out of this library?"--said I. "Surely there must be many which are rather objects of curiosity than of utility: rarely consulted, no doubt; but which, by being exchanged for others of a more modern and useful description, would contribute more effectually to the purposes of public education, in an establishment of such magnitude?" These questions I submitted with great deference, and without the least hesitation, to the Vice Principal; who replied in such a manner as to induce me immediately to ascend the staircase, and commence a reconnaissance among the books placed above the gallery. The result of twenty minutes examination was, if not absolutely of the _most_ gratifying kind, at least sufficient to induce me to offer _twenty louis d'or_ for some thirty volumes, chiefly thin quartos, containing many Greek grammatical and philosophical tracts, of which I had never before seen copies. Some scarce and curious theological Latin tracts were also in this number. I turned the books upon their fore-edges, leaving their ends outwards, in order to indicate those which had been selected. M. Pallas told me that he could say nothing definitive in reply,[104] for that the matter must be submitted to the Prelate, or head of the monastery, who, at that time, was at Vienna, perhaps at the point of death. From the library we went to the church. This latter is situated between the two wings: the wings themselves forming the Saloon and the library. As we were about to leave the library, the Abbé observed--"Here, we have food for the _mind_: in the opposite quarter we dine--which is food for the _body_:[105] between both, is the church, which contains food for the _soul_." On entering the corridor, I looked up and saw the following inscription (from 1 _Mac._ c. xii. v. 9.) over the library door: "_Habentes solatio sanctos libros qui sunt in manibus nostris_." My next gratification was, a view of the portrait of BERTHOLDUS DIETMAYR--the founder, or rather the restorer, both of the library and of the monastery--possessing a countenance full of intelligence and expression. Beneath the portrait, which is scarcely half the size of life, is the following distich: _Bertholdi Dietmayr Quidquid Mortale, Tabella, Ingentemque animum_ BIBLIOTHECA, _refert._ "There," exclaimed the Abbé Strattman--"there you have the portrait of a _truly_ great man: one of the three select and privy counsellors of the Emperor Charles VI. Dietmayr was a man of a truly lofty soul, of a refined taste, and of unbounded wealth and liberality of spirit. Even longer than this edifice shall last, will the celebrity of its founder endure." My heart overflowed with admiration as I heard the words of the Abbé, gazing, at the same time, intently upon the portrait of the Prelate Dietmayr. Such men keep the balance of this world even. On reaching the last descending step, just before entering the church, the Vice Principal bade me look upwards and view the cork-screw stair-case. I did so: and to view and admire was one and the same operation of the mind. It was the most perfect and extraordinary thing of the kind which I had ever seen--the consummation (as I was told) of that particular species of art. The church is the very perfection of ecclesiastical Roman architecture: that of Chremsminster, although fine, being much inferior to it in loftiness and richness of decoration. The windows are fixed so as to throw their concentrated light beneath a dome, of no ordinary height, and of no ordinary elegance of decoration; but this dome is suffering from damp, and the paintings upon the ceiling will, unless repaired, be effaced in the course of a few years. The church is in the shape of a cross; and at the end of each of the transepts, is a rich altar, with statuary, in the style of art usual about a century ago. The pews--made of dark mahogany or walnut tree, much after the English fashion, but lower and more tasteful--are placed on each side of the nave, on entering; with ample space between them. They are exclusively appropriated to the tenants of the monastery. At the end of the nave, you look to the left, opposite,--and observe, placed in a recess--a PULPIT ... which, from top to bottom, is completely covered with gold. And yet, there is nothing gaudy, or tasteless, or glaringly obtrusive, in this extraordinary clerical rostrum. The whole is in the most perfect taste; and perhaps more judgment was required to manage such an ornament, or appendage,--consistently with the splendid style of decoration exacted by the founder--(for it was expressly the Prelate Dietmayr's wish that it _should_ be so adorned) than may, on first consideration, be supposed. In fact, the whole church is in a blaze of gold; and I was told that the gilding alone cost upwards of ninety thousand florins. Upon the whole, I understood that the church of this monastery was considered as the most beautiful in Austria; and I can easily believe it to be so. The time flew away so quickly that there was no opportunity of seeing the Saloon. Indeed, I was informed that it was occupied by the students--an additional reason why I _ought_ to have seen it. "But have you no old paintings, Mr. Vice Principal--no Burgmairs, Cranachs, or Albert Durers?" said I to M. Pallas. "Ha! (observed he in reply,) you like old pictures, then, as well as old books. Come with me, and you shall be satisfied." So saying, the Abbé Strattman[106] left us, and I followed the Vice Principal--into a small, wainscoted room, of which he touched the springs of some of the compartments, and anon there was exhibited to my view a series of sacred subjects, relating to the Life of Christ, executed by the first and last named masters: exceedingly fresh, vigorously painted, and one or two of them very impressive, but bordering upon the grotesque. I am not sure that I saw any thing more striking of the kind even in the extraordinary collection at Augsbourg. From this room I was conducted into the Prelate's apartment, where I observed a bed--in an arched recess--which might be called a bed of state. "Our Prelate has left his apartment for the last time; he will never sleep in this bed again"--observed M. Pallas, fixing himself at the foot of it, and directing his eyes towards the pillow. I saw what it was to be beloved and respected; for the Vice Principal took the end of his gown to wipe away a little _dust_ (as he was pleased to call it--but I suspect it was a starting tear) which had fallen into his eye. I was then shewn a set of china, manufactured at Vienna--upon some of the pieces of which were painted views of the monastery. This had been presented to the Prelate; and I was then, as a final exhortation, requested to view the country around me. Need I again remark, that this country was enchantingly fine? On returning to the inn, and dining, we lingered longer than we were wont to do over our dessert and white wine, when the valet came to announce to us that from thence to _St. Pölten_ was a long stage; and that if we wished to reach the latter before dark, we had not ten minutes to spare. This hint was sufficient: and the ten minutes had scarcely elapsed when we were on the high road to St. Pölten. It was indeed almost with the last glimmer of daylight that we entered this town, yet I could observe, on descending the hill by which we entered it, a stone crucifix, with the usual accompanying group. I resolved to give it a careful examination on the morrow. The inn at St. Pölten (I think it was the Dolphin) surprised us by its cheerfulness and neatness. The rooms were papered so as to represent gothic interiors, or ornamented gardens, or shady bowers. Every thing was--almost--as an Englishman could wish it to be. Having learnt that the MONASTERY OF GÖTTWIC was a digression of only some twelve or fourteen miles, I resolved to set off to visit it immediately after an early breakfast. We had scarcely left the town, when we observed a group of rustics, with a crucifix carried in front--indicating that they were about to visit some consecrated spot, for the purpose of fulfilling a vow or performing an annual pilgrimage. I stopped the carriage, to take a survey of so novel a scene; but I confess that there was nothing in it which induced me to wish to be one of the party. If I mistake not, this was the first pilgrimage or procession, of the kind, which I had seen in Austria, or even in Bavaria. It was a sorry cavalcade. Some of the men, and even women, were without shoes and stockings; and they were scattered about the road in a very loose, straggling manner. Many of the women wore a piece of linen, or muslin, half way up their faces, over the mouth; and although the road was not very smooth, both men and women appeared to be in excellent spirits, and to move briskly along--occasionally singing, and looking up to the crucifix--which a stout young man carried at the head of them. They were moving in the direction of the Monastery of Göttwic. It was cold and cloudy at starting; but on leaving the main road, and turning to the left, the horizon cleared up--and it was evident that a fine day was in store for us. Our expectations were raised in proportion to the increasing beauty of the day. The road, though a cross one, was good; winding through a pleasant country, and affording an early glimpse of the monastery in question--at the distance of at least ten miles--and situated upon a lofty eminence. The first view of it was grand and imposing, and stimulated us to urge our horses to a speedier course. The country continued to improve. Some vineyards were beginning to shew the early blush of harvest; and woods of fir, and little meandring streams running between picturesque inequalities of ground, gave an additional interest to every additional mile of the route. At length we caught a glimpse of a crowd of people, halting, in all directions. Some appeared to be sitting, others standing, more lying; and a good number were engaged in devotion before a statue. As we approached them, we observed the statue to be that of St. Francis; around which this numerous group of pilgrims appeared to have marshalled themselves--making a HALT in their pilgrimage (as we afterwards learnt) to the monastery of Göttwic. The day continued to become more and more brilliant, and the scenery to keep pace with the weather. It was evident that we were nearing the monastery very rapidly. On catching the first distinct view of it, my companion could not restrain his admiration. At this moment, from the steepness of the ascent, I thought it prudent to descend, and to walk to the monastery. The view from thence was at once commanding and enchanting. The Danube was the grand feature in the landscape; while, near its very borders, at the distance perhaps of three English miles, stood the post town of _Chrems_. The opposite heights of the Danube were well covered with wood. The sun now shone in his meridian splendour, and every feature of the country seemed to be in a glow with his beams. I next turned my thoughts to gain entrance within the monastery, and by the aid of my valet it was not long before that wished for object was accomplished. The interior is large and handsome, but of less architectural splendor than Mölk or even St. Florian. The librarian, Odilo Klama, was from home. Not a creature was to be found; and I was pacing the cloisters with a dejected air, when my servant announced to me that the Vice Principal would receive me, and conduct me to the Head or President. This was comforting intelligence. I revived in an instant; and following, along one corridor, and up divers stair-cases, I seemed to be gaining the summit of the building, when a yet more spacious corridor brought me to the door of the President's apartments: catching views, on my way thither, of increasing extent and magnificence. But all consideration of exterior objects was quickly lost on my reception at head quarters. The Principal, whose name is ALTMANN, was attired in a sort of half-dignity dress; a gold chain and cross hung upon his breast, and a black silk cap covered his head. A gown, and what seemed to be a cassock, covered his body. He had the complete air of a gentleman, and might have turned his fiftieth year. His countenance bespoke equal intelligence and benevolence:--but alas! not a word of French could he speak--and Latin was therefore necessarily resorted to by both parties. I entreated him to forgive all defects of composition and of pronunciation; at which he smiled graciously. The Vice Principal then bowed to the Abbot and retreated; but not before I had observed them to whisper apart--and to make gesticulations which I augured to portend something in the shape of providing refreshment, if not dinner. My suspicion was quickly confirmed; for, on the Vice Principal quitting the apartment, the Abbot observed to me--"you will necessarily partake of our dinner--which is usually at _one_ o'clock; but which I have postponed till _three_, in order that I may conduct you over the monastery, and shew you what is worthy of observation. You have made a long journey hither, and must not be disappointed." The manner in which this was spoken was as courteous as the purport of the speech was hospitable. "Be pleased to be covered (continued the Abbot) and I will conduct you forthwith to the Library: although I regret to add that our Librarian Odilo is just now from home--having gone, for the day, upon a botanical excursion towards Chrems--as it is now holiday time." In our way to the library, I asked the Principal respecting the revenues of the establishment and its present condition--whether it were flourishing or otherwise--adding, that Chremsminster appeared to me to be in a very flourishing state." "They are much wealthier (observed the Principal) at Chremsminster than we are here. Establishments like this, situated near a metropolis, are generally more _severely_ visited than are those in a retired and remote part of the kingdom. Our very situation is inviting to a foe, from its commanding the adjacent country. Look at the prospect around you. It is unbounded. On yon opposite wooded heights, (on the other side of the Danube) we all saw, from these very windows, the fire and smoke of the advanced guard of the French army, in contest with the Austrians, upon Bonaparte's first advance towards Vienna. The French Emperor himself took possession of this monastery. He slept here, and we entertained him the next day with the best _dejeuné à la fourchette_ which we could afford. He seemed well satisfied with his reception; but I own that I was glad when he left us. Strangers to arms in this tranquil retreat, and visited only, as you may now visit us, for the purpose of peaceful hospitality, it agitated us extremely to come in contact with warriors and chieftains. The preceding was not delivered in one uninterrupted flow of language; but I only string it together as answers to various questions put by myself. "Observe yonder"--continued the Abbot--"do you notice an old castle in the distance, to the left, situated almost upon the very banks of the Danube?" "I observe it well," replied I. "That castle, (answered he) so tradition reports, once held your Richard the First, when he was detained a prisoner by Leopold Marquis of Austria, on his return from the Holy-Land." The more the Abbot spoke, and the more I continued to gaze around, the more I fancied myself treading upon faëry ground, and that the scene in which I was engaged partook of the illusion of romance. "Our funds (continued my intelligent guide, as he placed his hand upon my arm, and arrested our progress towards the library) need be much more abundant than they really are. We have great burdens to discharge. All our food is brought from a considerable distance, and we are absolutely dependant upon our neighbours for water, as there are neither wells nor springs in the soil." "I wonder (replied I) why such a spot was chosen--except for its insulated and commanding situation--as water is the first requisite in every monastic establishment?" "Do you then overlook the _Danube_?"--resumed he--"We get our fish from thence; and, upon the whole, feel our wants less than it might be supposed." In our way to the Library, I observed a series of oil paintings along the corridor--which represented the history of the founder, and of the foundation, of the monastery.[107] The artist's name was, if I remember rightly, Helgendoeffer--or something like it. Many of the subjects were curious, and none of them absolutely ill executed. I observed the devil, or some imp, introduced in more than one picture; and remarked upon it to my guide. He said--"where will you find truth unmixed with fiction?" My observation was adroitly parried; and we now found ourselves close to the library door; where three or four Benedictins, (for I should have told you that this famous monastery is of the order of _St. Benedict_) professors on the establishment, were apparently waiting to receive us. They first saluted the Abbot very respectfully, and then myself--with a degree of cheerfulness amounting almost to familiarity. In a remote and strange place, of such a character, nothing is more encouraging than such a reception. Two of our newly joined associates could luckily speak the French language, which rendered my intercourse with the Principal yet more pleasing and satisfactory to myself. The library door was now opened, and I found myself within a long and spacious room--of which the book-shelves were composed of walnut tree--but of which the architectural ornaments were scarcely to be endured, after having so recently seen those in the library of Mölk. However, it may be fairly said that the Library was worthy of the Monastery: well stored with books and MSS., and probably the richest in bibliographical lore in Austria, after that at Vienna. We now entered the saloon, for dinner. It was a larger light, and lofty room. The ceiling was covered with paintings of allegorical subjects, in fresco, descriptive of the advantages of piety and learning. Among the various groups, I thought I could discern--as I could only take a hasty survey during my meal--the apotheosis of the founder of the monastery. Perhaps I rather wished to see it there, than that it was absolutely depicted. However, we sat down, at the high table--precisely as you may remember it in the halls at Oxford--to a plentiful and elegant repast. The Principal did me the honour of placing me at his right hand. Grace was no sooner said, than Mr. Lewis made his appearance, and seemed to view the scene before him with mingled delight and astonishment. He had, in fact, just completed his sketch of the monastery, and was well satisfied at seeing me in such quarters, and so occupied. The brethren were also well pleased to receive him, but first begged to have a glance at the drawing--with which they were highly gratified. My companion having joined the festive board, the conversation, and the cups of Rhenish wine, seemed equally to circulate without restraint. We were cheerful, even to loud mirth; and the smallness of the party, compared with the size of the hall, caused the sounds of our voices to be reverberated from every quarter. Meantime, the sun threw his radiant beams through a window of noble dimensions, quite across the saloon--so as to keep us in shadow, and illuminate the other parts of the room. Thus we were cool, but the day without had begun to be sultry. Behind me, or rather between the Abbot and myself, stood a grave, sedate, and inflexible-looking attendant--of large, square dimensions--habited in a black gown, which scarcely reached the skirts of his coat. He spake not; he moved not; save when he saw my glass emptied, which without any previous notice or permission, he made a scrupulous point of filling ... even to the very brim!... with the most highly flavoured Rhenish wine which I had yet tasted in Germany. Our glasses being of the most capacious dimensions, it behoved me to cast an attentive eye upon this replenishing process; and I told the worthy master of the table that we should be quickly revelling in our cups. He assured me that the wine, although good, was weak; but begged that I would consider myself at liberty to act as I pleased. In due time, the cloth was cleared; and a dessert, consisting chiefly of delicious peaches, succeeded. A new order of bottles was introduced; tall, square, and capacious; which were said to contain wine of the same quality, but of a more delicate flavour. It proved indeed to be most exquisite. The past labours of the day, together with the growing heat, had given a relish to every thing which I tasted; and, in the full flow of my spirits, I proposed--a sentiment, which I trusted would be considered as perfectly orthodox--"Long life, and happy times to the present members, and increasing prosperity to, the monastery of Göttwic." It was received and drank with enthusiasm. The Abbot then proceeded to give me an account of a visit paid him by Lord Minto, some years ago, when the latter was ambassador at Vienna; and he spoke of that nobleman's intelligent conversation, and amiable manners, in a way which did him great credit. "Come, Sir;" said he: "you shall not find me ungrateful. I propose drinking prosperity and long life to every representative of the British nation who is resident at Vienna. May the union between your country and ours become indissoluble." I then requested that we might withdraw; as the hours were flying away, and as we purposed sleeping within one stage of Vienna on that same evening. "Your wishes shall be mine," answered the Abbot. Whereupon he rose--with all the company--and stepping some few paces backwards, placed his hands across his breast upon the gold cross; half closed his eyes; and said grace--briefly and softly; in a manner the most impressive which I had ever witnessed. We then quickly left the noble room in which we had been banquetting, and prepared to visit the church and what might be called the state apartments, which we had not before seen. After the rooms at St. Florian, there was not much particularly to admire in those of Göttwic: except that they appeared to be better lighted, and most of them commanded truly enchanting views of the Danube and of the surrounding country. In one room, of smaller dimensions, ornamented chiefly in white and gold (if I remember rightly) a _Collection of Prints_ was kept; but those which I saw were not very remarkable for their antiquity, or for their beauty of subject or of impression. The sun was now getting low, and we had a stage of at least fourteen miles to accomplish ere we could think of retiring to rest. "Show us now, worthy Sir, your crypt and church; and then, with pain be it pronounced, we must bid you farewell. Within little more than two hours, darkness will have covered the earth." Such was my remark to the Abbot; who replied: "Say not so: we cannot part with you yet. At any rate you must not go without a testimony of the respect we entertain for the object of your visit. Those who love books, will not object to increase their own stock by a copy of our CHRONICON GOTWICENSE--commenced by one of my learned predecessors, but alas! never completed. Come with me to my room, before we descend to the church, and receive the work in question." Upon which, the amiable Head of the monastery set off, at rather a hurried pace, with myself by the side of him, along several corridors--towards his own apartment, to present me with this Chronicle. I received it with every demonstration of respect--and entreated the Abbot to inscribe a "_dono dedit_" in the fly leaf, which would render it yet more valuable in my estimation.[108] He cheerfully complied with this request. The courtesy, the frankness, the downright heartiness of feeling with which all this was done--together with the value of the present--rendered it one of the most delightful moments of my existence. I instinctively caught the Abbot's arm, pressed his hand with a cordial warmth between both of mine--and pausing one little moment, exclaimed "_Dies hic omninò commemoratione dignus!_" A sort of sympathetic shouting succeeded; for, by this time, the whole of our party had reached the Abbot's rooms. I now requested, to be immediately taken to the church; and within five minutes we were in the crypt. It scarcely merits one word of description on the score of antiquity; and may be, at the farthest, somewhere about three centuries old. The church is small and quite unpretending, as a piece of architecture. On quitting the church, and passing through the last court, or smaller quadrangle, we came to the outer walls: and leaving them, we discerned--below--the horses, carriage, and valet ... waiting to receive us. Our amiable Host and his Benedictin brethren determined to walk a little way down the hill, to see us fairly seated and ready to start. I entreated and remonstrated that this might not be; but in vain. On reaching the carriage, we all shook hands very cordially together, but certainly I pressed those of the Abbot more earnestly than the rest. We then saluted by uncovering; and, stepping into the carriage, I held aloft the first volume of the GÖTTWIC CHRONICLE--exclaiming ... "_Valete, Domini eruditissimi: dies hic commemoratione dignus_:" to which the Abbot replied, with peculiarly emphatic sonorousness of voice, "_Vale: Deus te, omnesque tibi charissimos, conservet_." They then stopped for a moment ... as the horses began to be put in motion ... and retracing their steps up the hill, towards the outer gate of the monastery, disappeared. I thought--but it might not be so--that I discerned the Abbot, at the distance of some two hundred yards, yet lingering alone--with his right arm raised, and shaking it as the last and most affectionate token of farewell. The evening was serene and mild; and the road, although a cross way, was perfectly sound--winding through a country of fertility and picturesque beauty. We saw few vineyards: but those which met our eyes showed the grape to be in its full purple tint, if not beginning to ripen. I had resolved upon stopping to sleep at _Sirghartskirchen_ within two stages of Vienna--thus avoiding the post town of _Perschling_, which is situated in the direct road to Vienna from _St. Pölten_--which latter place, as you may remember, we had left in the morning. Before the darker shades of evening began to prevail, we turned round to catch a farewell glance of the hospitable monastery which we had left behind--and were lucky in viewing it, (scarcely less than seven or eight miles in our rear) just as the outline of its pinnacles could be discerned against a clear, and yet almost brilliant, sky. It was quite dark, and nearer upon eleven than ten o'clock, when we entered the insignificant post town of _Sirghartskirchen_--where we stretched our limbs rather than reposed; and after a hasty, but not very ill provided breakfast, the next morning, we pushed on for _Burkersdorf_, the last post town on that side of Vienna. It may be about nine English miles from Burkersdorf to the capital; of which the greater part is rather agreeable than otherwise. It was here, as in approaching Strasbourg, that I turned my eyes in all directions to catch an early glimpse of the tower of St. Stephen's Cathedral, but in vain. At length, to the right, we saw the magnificent chateau of _Schönbrunn_. The road now became flat and sandy, and the plains in the vicinity of the capital destitute of trees. "Voilà la Cathedrale!" shouted the valet. It was to the left, or rather a little in front: of a tapering, spire-like form: but, seeing only a small portion of it--the lower part being concealed by the intervening rising ground--I could form no judgment of its height. We now neared the suburbs, which are very extensive, and swarming with population. I learnt that they entirely surrounded the capital, in an equal state of populousness. The barriers were now approached: and all the fears, which my accidental travelling acquaintance at Augsbourg had put into my head, began to revive and to take possession of me. But what has an honest man to fear? "Search closely (observed I to the principal examining officer) for I suspect that there is something contraband at the bottom of the trunk. Do you forbid the importation of an old Greek manual of devotion?"--said I, as I saw him about to lay his hand upon the precious Aldine volume, of which such frequent mention has been already made. The officer did not vouchsafe even to open the leaves--treating it, questionless, with a most sovereign contempt; but crying, "bah!--vous pouvez bien passer," he replaced the things which he had very slightly discomposed, and added that he wished all contraband articles to consist of similar materials. We parted with mutual smiles; but I thought there lingered something like a feeling of reproach, in the last quiver or turn of his lip, at my not having slipt two or three florins into his hand--which was broad and brawny enough to have grasped threescore or a hundred. "I will remember you on my return,"--exclaimed I, as the carriage drove off. He gave me a most sceptical shake of the head, as he retreated into his little tenement, like a mastiff into his kennel. The whole of VIENNA, as it now seemed--with its cathedral, churches, palaces, and ramparts--was before us. As we approached the chief entrance, or gateway, I recognised the _Imperial Library_; although it was only a back view of it. In truth, it appeared to be just as I remembered it in the vignette-frontispiece of Denis's folio catalogue of the Latin Theological MSS. contained in the same library. My memory proved to be faithful; for we were assured that the building in view _was_ the library in question. It was our intention to take up our quarters at the principal inn, called the _Empress of Austria_; and, with this view, we drove up to the door of that hotel: but a tall, full-dressed man, with a broad sash across his body, and a silver-tipped staff in his right hand, marched pompously up to the door of the carriage, took off his hat, and informed us with great solemnity that "the hotel was entirely filled, and that his master could not have the honour of entertaining us." On receiving this intelligence, we were comforted by the assurance, on the part of the post-boy and valet, that the second hotel, called the _Crown of Hungary_,--and situated in the _Himelfort Gasse_, or _Heaven-gate Street_--was in every respect as desirable as that which we were compelled to quit. Accordingly we alighted at the door of the _Hungarische Krone_--equally marvelling, all the way thither, at the enormous size of the houses, and at the narrowness of the streets. But it is time to terminate this epistle. Yet I must not fail informing you, that every thing strikes me as approximating very much to my own native country. The countenances, the dresses, the manners of the inhabitants, are very nearly English. My apartments are gay as well as comfortable. A green-morocco sofa, beneath a large and curiously cut looking-glass--with chairs having velvet seats, and wainscot and ceiling very elegantly painted and papered--all remind me that I am in a respectable hotel. A strange sight occupied my attention the very first morning after my arrival. As the day broke fully into my room--it might be between five and six o'clock--I heard a great buzzing of voices in the street. I rose, and looking out of window, saw, from one end of the street to the other, a countless multitude of women--sitting, in measured ranks, with pots of cream and butter before them. It was in fact the chief market day for fruit, cream, and butter; and the _Himelfort Gasse_ is the principal mart for the sale of these articles. The weather has recently become milder, and I feel therefore in better trim for the attack upon the IMPERIAL LIBRARY, where I deliver my credentials, or introductory letters, to-morrow. God bless you. [97] St. FLORIAN was a soldier and sufferer in the time of the Emperors Diocletian and Maximinian. He perished in the tenth and last persecution of the Christian Church by the Romans. The judge, who condemned him to death, was Aquilinus. After being importuned to renounce the Christian religion, and to embrace the Pagan creed, as the only condition of his being rescued from an immediate and cruel death, St. Florian firmly resisted all entreaties; and shewed a calmness, and even joyfulness of spirits, in proportion to the stripes inflicted upon him previous to execution. He was condemned to be thrown into the river, from a bridge, with a stone fastened round his neck. The soldiers at first hesitated about carrying the judgment of Aquilinus into execution. A pause of an hour ensued: which was employed by St. Florian in prayer and ejaculation! A furious young man then rushed forward, and precipitated the martyr into the river: "Fluvius autem suscipiens martyrem Christi, expavit, et elevatis undis suis, in quodam eminentiori loco in saxo corpus ejus deposuit. Tunc annuente favore divino, adveniens aquila, expansis alis suis in modum crucis, eum protegebat." _Acta Sanctorum; Mens. Maii_, vol. i. p. 463. St. Florian is a popular saint both in Bavaria and Austria. He is usually represented in armour, pouring water from a bucket to extinguish a house, or a city, in flames, which is represented below. Raderus, in his _Bavaria Sacra_, vol. i. p. 8, is very particular about this monastery, and gives a list of the pictures above noticed, on the authority of Sebastianus ab Adelzhausen, the head of the monastery at that time; namely in 1615. He also adorns his pages with a copper cut of the martyr about to be precipitated into the river, from the bank--with his hands tied behind him, without any stone about his neck. But the painting, as well as the text of the Acta Sanctorum, describes the precipitation as from a bridge. The form of the Invocation to the Saint is, "O MARTYR and SAINT, FLORIAN, keep us, we beseech thee, by night and by day, from all harm by FIRE, or from other casualties of this life." [98] "Nostris vero temporibus Reverendissimi Præpositi studio augustum sanc templum raro marmore affatim emicans, paucisque inuidens assurexit." This is the language of the _Germania Austriaca, seu Topographia Omnium Germaniæ Provinciarum_, 1701, folio, p. 16: when speaking of THE MONASTERY of ST. FLORIAN. [99] See p. 78, ante. [100] It may be only sufficient to carry it as far back as the twelfth century. What precedes that period is, as usual, obscure and unsatisfactory. The monastery was originally of the _Benedictin_ order; but it was changed to the _Augustine_ order by Engelbert. After this latter, Altman reformed and put it upon a most respectable footing--in 1080. He was, however, a severe disciplinarian. Perhaps the crypt mentioned by M. Klein might be of the latter end of the XIIth century; but no visible portion of the superincumbent building can be older than the XVIth century. [101] The history of this monastery is sufficiently fertile in marvellous events; but my business is to be equally brief and sober in the account of it. In the _Scriptores Rerum Austriacarum_ of _Pez_, vol. i. col. 162-309, there is a chronicle of the monastery, from the year of its foundation to 1564, begun to be written by an anonymous author in 1132, and continued to the latter period by other coeval writers--all monks of the monastery. It is printed by Pez for the first time--and he calls it "an ancient and genuine chronicle." The word Mölk, or Mölck,--or, as it appears in the first map in the _Germania Austriaca, seu Topographia Omnium Germaniæ Provinciarum_, 1701, fol. Melck--was formerly written "Medilicense, Medlicense, Medlicum, Medlich, and Medelick, or Mellicense." This anonymous chronicle, which concludes at col. 290, is followed by "a short chtonicle of Conrad de Wizenberg," and "an anonymous history of the Foundation of the Monastery," compared with six other MSS. of the same kind in the library at Mölk. The whole is concluded by "an ancient Necrology of the Monastery," commenced in the XIIth century, from a vellum MS. of the same date. In the _Monasteriologia of Stengelius_, we have a list of the Heads or Primates of Mölk, beginning with Sigiboldus, in 1089, (who was the first that succeeded Leopold, the founder) down to Valentinus, in 1638; who was living when the author published his work. There is also a copper-plate print of a bird's eye view of the monastery, in its ancient state, previously to the restoration of it, in its present form, by DIETMAYR. [102] [The late Duke.] [103] I do not however find it in the Notitia Literaria prefixed to the edition of Horace, published by Mitscherlich in 1800: see vol. i. p. xxvi. where he notices the MSS. of the poet which are deposited in the libraries of Germany. [104] It was not till my arrival at Manheim, on my return to Paris, that I received the "definitive reply" of the worthy Sub-Principal--which was after the following manner. "Monsieur--La lettre du 21 Septembre, que vous m'avez faite l'honneur de m'écrire, je ne l'ai reçue que depuis peu, c'est-à-dire, depuis le retour de mon voyage. Les scrupules que vous faites touchant l'échange des livres, ont été levés par vous-même dans l'instant que vous en avez faites la proposition. Mais, malheureusement, la lettre qui devait apporter la confirmation du Prélat, n'a apportée que la triste nouvelle de sa mort. Vous sentez bien, que dès ce moment il ne sauroit plus être question de rien. Je ne doute pas, que quoique aucun livre ancien ne soit jusqu'à ce moment sorti de la Bibliothèque du Couvent, le Prélat n'eut fait une exception honorable en égard a l'illustre personnage auquel ces livres ont été destines et à la collection unique d'un art, a fait naitre toutes les bibliothèques, &c. J'ai l'honneur, &c. votre trés humble et très obeisant serviteur," [Autograph] [105] In an octavo volume published by a Dr. Cadet, who was a surgeon in Bonaparte's army in the campaign in Austria, in 1809, and who entitles his work--_Voyage en Autriche, en Moravie, et en Bavière_--published at Paris in 1818--we are favoured with a slight but spirited account of the monastery of Mölk--of the magnificence of its structure, and of the views seen from thence: but, above all, of the PRODUCE OF ITS CELLARS. The French Generals were lodged there, in their route to Vienna; and the Doctor, after telling us of the extent of the vaults, and that a carriage might be turned with ease in some of them, adds, "in order to have an idea of the abundance which reigns there, it may be sufficient only to observe, that, for four successive days, during the march of our troops through Mölk, towards Vienna, there were delivered to them not less than from 50 to 60,000 pints of wine per day--and yet scarcely one half of the stock was exhausted! The monastery, however, only contains twelve Réligieux. The interior of the church is covered with such a profusion of gilt and rich ornaments, that when the sun shines full upon it, it is difficult to view it without being dazzled." Page 79. The old monastery of Mölk successfully stood a siege of three months, against the Hungarians, in the year 1619. See _Germ. Austriaca_, &c. p. 18. [106] [The Abbé Strattman SURVIVED the above interview only about _five years_. I hope and trust that the worthy Vice Principal is as well NOW, as he was about three years ago, when my excellent friend Mr. Lodge, the Librarian of the University of Cambridge, read to him an off-hand German version of the whole of this account of my visit to his Monastery.] [107] This history has come down to us from well authenticated materials; however, in the course of its transmission, it may have been partially coloured with fables and absurdities. The Founder of the Monastery was ALTMANN, Bishop of Passau; who died in the year 1091, about twenty years after the foundation of the building. The two ancient biographies of the Founder, each by a Monk or Principal of the monastery, are introduced into the collection of Austrian historians by _Pez_; vol. i. col. 112-162. Stengelius has a bird's eye view of the monastery as it appeared in 1638, and before the principal suite of apartments was built. But it is yet in an unfinished state; as the view of it from the copper-plate engraving, at page 248 ante, represents it with the _intended_ additions and improvements. These latter, in all probability, will never be carried into effect. This monastery enjoyed, of old, great privileges and revenues. It had twenty-two parish churches--four towns--several villages, &c. subject to its ecclesiastical jurisdiction; and these parishes, together with the monastery itself, were not under the visitation of the Diocesan (of Passau) but of the Pope himself. Stengelius (_Monasteriologia_, sign. C) speaks of the magnificent views seen from the summit of the monastery, on a clear day; observing, however, (even in his time) that it was without springs or wells, and that it received the rain water in leaden cisterns. "Cæterùm (adds he) am[oen]issimum et plané aspectu jucundissimum habet situm." Towards the middle of the seventeenth century, this monastery appears to have taken the noble form under which it is at present beheld. It has not however escaped from more than _one_ severe visitation by the Turks. [108] On my arrival in England, I was of course equally anxious and happy to place the CHRONICON GÖTWICENSE in the library at Althorp. But I have not, in the text above, done full justice to the liberality of the present Abbot of the monastery. He gave me, in addition, a copy--of perhaps a still scarcer work--entitled "_Notitia Austriæ Antiquæ et Mediæ seu tam Norici Veteris quam Pagi et Marchæ_, &c." by MAGNUS KLEIN, Abbot of the monastery, and of which the first volume only was published "typis Monasterii Tegernseensis," in 1781, 4to. This appears to be a very learned and curious work. And here ... let me be allowed for the sake of all lovers of autographs of good and great men--to close this note with a fac-simile of the hand writing (in the "dono dedit"--as above mentioned) of the amiable and erudite donor of these acceptable volumes. It is faithfully thus:--the _original_ scription will only, I trust, perish with the book: [Autograph] LETTER X. IMPERIAL LIBRARY. ILLUMINATED MANUSCRIPTS AND EARLY PRINTED BOOKS. VIENNA; _Hotel of the Crown of Hungary, Sept. 9, 1818_. It gave me the sincerest pleasure, my dear friend, to receive your letter... only a very few hours after the transmission of my last. At such a distance from those we love and esteem, you can readily imagine the sort of _comfort_ which such communications impart. I was indeed rejoiced to hear of the health and welfare of your family, and of that of our friend * *, who is indeed not only a thorough-bred _Rorburgher_, but a truly excellent and amiable man. The account of the last anniversary-meeting of the Club has, however, been a little painful to me; inasmuch as it proves that a sort of _heresy_ has crept into the Society--which your Vice-President, on his return, will labour as effectually as he can to eradicate.[109] I had anticipated your wishes. You tell me, "send all you can collect about the IMPERIAL LIBRARY of Vienna; its MSS. and printed books: its treasures in the shape of _Fifteeners_ and _Sixteeners_: in short, be copious (say you) in your description." The present letter will at least convince you that I have not been sparing in the account solicited; and, in truth, I am well pleased to postpone a description of the buildings, and usual sights and diversions of this metropolis, until I shall have passed a few more days here, and had fuller opportunities of making myself acquainted with details. Compared with every other architectural interior which I have yet seen, this LIBRARY is beyond doubt the most magnificent in its structure. But if my admiration be thus great of the building, and of the _books_, it is at least equally so of _those_ who have the _management_ of them. You must know that I arrived here at a very unfortunate moment for bibliographical research. The holidays of the librarians commence at the latter end of August, and continue 'till the end of September. I had no sooner delivered my letter of introduction to the well known Mons. ADAM DE BARTSCH--an Aulic Counsellor, and chief Director of the Library--than he stepped backward with a thoughtful and even anxious brow. "What is the matter, Sir, am I likely to be intrusive?" "My good friend"--replied he--taking my arm with as pleasant an air of familiarity as if I had been an old acquaintance--"you have visited us at a most unlucky moment: but let me turn the matter over in my mind, and you shall have my determination on the morrow." That "determination" was as agreeable as it was unexpected; and really on my part--without the least affectation--unmerited. "I have been talking the matter over with my brethren and coadjutors in the library-department, (said M. Bartsch) and we have agreed--considering the great distance and expense of your journey--to give you an extra week's research among our books. We will postpone our regular trip to _Baden_,--whither the court, the noblesse, and our principal citizens at present resort--in order that you may have an opportunity of perfecting your enquiries. You will of course make the most of your time." I thanked M. Bartsch heartily and unfeignedly for his extreme civility and kindness, and told him that he should not find me either slothful or ungrateful. In person M. Bartsch is shorter than myself; but very much stouter. He is known in the graphic world chiefly by his _Le Peintre Graveur_; a very skilful, and indeed an invaluable production, in sixteen or eighteen octavo volumes--illustrated with some curious fac-similes. He is himself an artist of no ordinary ability; and his engravings, especially after some of Rubens's pictures, are quite admirable. Few men have done so much at his time of life, and borne the effect of so much strenuous toil, so well as himself. He is yet gay in spirit, vigorous in intellect, and sound in judgment; and the simplicity of his character and manners (for in truth we are become quite intimate) is most winning.[110] Messrs. PAYNE and KOPITAR are the Librarians who more immediately attend to the examination of the books. The former is an Abbé--somewhat stricken in years, and of the most pleasing and simple manners. I saw little of him, as he was anxious for the breezes of Baden; but I saw enough to regret that he would not meet his brother librarians at the hotel of the _Crown of Hungary_, where I had prepared the best fare in my power to entertain them.[111] M. Kopitar is an invaluable labourer in this bibliographical vineyard. I had formerly seen him while he was in England; when he came with Mr. Henry Foss to St. James's Place, to examine the _Aldine volumes_, and especially those printed upon vellum. He himself reminded me of the chary manner in which I seemed to allow him to handle those precious tomes. "You would scarcely permit me (said he smilingly) to hold them half a minute in my hands: but I will not treat you after the same fashion. You shall handle _our_ vellum books, whether in ms. or in print, as long and as attentively as you please." I felt the rebuke as it became a _preu_ chevalier in bibliography to feel it. "I am indebted to you, M. Kopitar, (said I, in reply) in more senses than _one_--- on this my visit to your Imperial Library." "But (observed he quickly) you only did what you _ought_ to have done." All power of rejoinder was here taken away. M. Kopitar is a thoroughly good scholar, and is conversant in the Polish, German, Hungarian, and Italian languages. He is now expressly employed upon the _Manuscripts_; but he told me (almost with a sigh!) that he had become so fond of the _Fifteeners_, that he reluctantly complied with the commands of his superiors in entering on the ms. department. Before I lay my _Catalogue Raisonné_ of such books as I have examined, before you, it is right and fitting that I make some mention of the REPOSITORY in which these books are placed. In regard to the dimensions of the library, and the general leading facts connected with the erection of the building, as well as the number of the books, my authority is perhaps the best that can be adduced: namely, that of Mons. de Bartsch himself. Know then, my good friend, that the Imperial Library of Vienna is built over a succession of arched vaults, which are made to contain the carriages of the Emperor. You ascend a broad staircase, to the left, which is lined with fragments of Greek and Roman antiquities. Almost the first room which you enter, is the Reading Room. This may hold about thirty students comfortably, but I think I saw more than forty on my first entrance: of whom several, with the invincible phlegm of their country, were content to stand--leaning against the wall, with their books in their hands. This room is questionless too small for the object to which it is applied; and as it is the fashion, in this part of the world, seldom or never to open the windows, the effect of such an atmosphere of hydrogen is most revolting to sensitive nerves. When the door was opened ... which at once gave me the complete length view of the GRAND LIBRARY ... I was struck with astonishment! Such another sight is surely no where to be seen.[112] The airiness, the height, the splendour, the decorative minutiæ of the whole--to say nothing of the interminable rows of volumes of all sizes, and in all colours of morocco binding--put every thing else out of my recollection. The floor is of red and white marble, diamond-wise. I walked along it, with M. Bartsch on my right hand and M. Kopitar on my left, as if fearful to scratch its polished surface:--first gazing upon the paintings of the vaulted roof, and then upon the statues and globes, alternately, below--while it seemed as if the power of expressing the extent of my admiration, had been taken from me. At length I reached the central compartment of this wonderful room, which is crowned with a sort of oval and very lofty cupola, covered with a profusion of fresco paintings. In the centre, below, stands a whole-length statue, in white marble, of CHARLES VI., under whose truly imperial patronage this library was built. Around him are sixteen whole length statues of certain Austrian Marshals, also in white marble; while the books, or rather folios, (almost wholly bound in red morocco) which line the sides of the whole of this transept division of the room, were pointed out to me as having belonged to the celebrated hero, PRINCE EUGENE. Illustrious man!--thought I to myself--it is a taste like THIS which will perpetuate thy name, and extol thy virtues, even when the memory of thy prowess in arms shall have faded away! "See yonder"--observed M. Bartsch--"there are, I know not how many, atlas folios of that Prince's collection of PRINTS. It is thought to be unrivalled." "But where (replied I) is the _statue_ of this heroic collector, to whom your library is probably indebted for its choicest treasures? Tell me, who are these marshals that seem to have no business in such a sanctuary of the Muses--while I look in vain for the illustrious Eugene?" There was more force in this remark than I could have possibly imagined--for my guide was silent as to the names of these Austrian marshals, and seemed to admit, that PRINCE EUGENE... _ought_ to have been there. "But is it _too late_ to erect his statue? Cannot he displace one of these nameless marshals, who are in attitude as if practising the third step of the _Minuet de la Cour_?" "Doucement, doucement, mon ami ... (replied M.B.) il faut considérer un peu...." "Well, well--be it so: let me now continue my general observation of the locale of this magical collection." M.B. readily allowed me; and seemed silently to enjoy the gratification which I felt and expressed. I then walked leisurely to the very extremity of the room; continuing to throw a rapid, but not uninterested glance upon all the accessories of gilding, carved work, paintings, and statuary, with which the whole seemed to be in a perfect blaze. I paced the library in various directions; and found, at every turn or fresh point of view, a new subject of surprise and admiration. There is a noble gallery, made of walnut tree, ornamented with gilding and constructed in a manner at once light and substantial, which runs from one extremity of the interior to the other. It is a master-piece of art in its way. Upon the whole, there is no furnishing you with any very correct notion of this really matchless public library. At the further end of the room, to the left, is a small door; which, upon opening, brings you into the interior of a moderately sized, plain room, where the _Fifteeners_ are lodged. The very first view of these ancient tomes caused a certain palpitation of the heart. But neither this sort of book-jewel room, nor the large library just described--leading to it--are visited without the special license of the Curators: a plan, which as it respects the latter room, is, I submit, exceedingly absurd; for, what makes a noble book-room look more characteristic and inviting, than its being _well filled with students_? Besides, on the score of health and comfort--at least in the summer months--such a plan is almost absolutely requisite. The MANUSCRIPTS are contained in a room, to the right, as you enter: connected with the small room where M. Bartsch, as commander-in-chief, regularly takes his station--from thence issuing such orders to his officers as best contribute to the well-being of the establishment. The MS. room is sufficiently large and commodious, but without any architectural pretensions. It may be about forty feet long. Here I was first shewn, among the principal curiosities, a _Senatus consultum de Bacchanalibus coercendis_: a sort of police ordonnance, on a metal plate--supposed to have been hung up in some of the public offices at Rome nearly 200 years before the birth of Christ. It is doubtless a great curiosity, and invaluable as an historical document--as far as it goes. Here is a _map_, upon vellum, of the _Itinerary_ of _Theodosius the Great_, of the fourth century; very curious, as exhibiting a representation of the then known world, in which the most extraordinary ignorance of the relative position of countries prevails. I understood that both _Pompeii_ and _Herculaneum_ were marked on this map. One of the most singular curiosities, of the antiquarian kind, is a long leather roll of _Mexican hieroglyphics_, which was presented to the Emperor Charles V., by Ferdinand Cortez. There are copies of these hieroglyphics, taken from a copper plate; but the solution of them, like most of those from Egypt, will always be perhaps a point of dispute with the learned. But the objects more particularly congenial with _my_ pursuits, were, as you will naturally guess, connected rather with _vellum MSS._ of the _Scriptures_ and _Classics_: and especially did I make an instant and earnest enquiry about the famous fragment of the BOOK OF GENESIS, of the fourth century, of which I had before read so much in Lambecius, and concerning which my imagination was, strangely enough, wrought up to a most extraordinary pitch. "Place before me that fragment, good M. Kopitar," said I eagerly--"and you shall for ever have my best thanks." "_That_, and every thing else (replied he) is much at your service: fix only your hours of attendance, and our treasures are ready for your free examination." This was as it should be. I enter therefore at once, my good friend, upon the task of giving you a Catalogue Raisonné of those MSS. which it was my good fortune to examine in the nine or ten days conceded to me for that purpose; and during which I seemed to receive more than ordinary attention and kindness from the principal librarians. FRAGMENT OF THE BOOK OF GENESIS--undoubtedly of the end of the fourth century, at earliest. This fragment is a collection of twenty-four leaves, in a folio form, measuring twelve inches by ten, of a small portion of the Book of Genesis, written in large Greek capital letters of gold and silver, now much faded, upon a purple ground. Every page of these twenty-four leaves is embellished with a painting, or illumination, coloured after nature, purposely executed _below_ the text, so that it is a running _graphic_ illustration--as we should say--of the subject above. There is too small a portion of the TEXT to be of much critical importance, but I believe this Greek text to be the _oldest extant_ of sacred writ: and therefore I rejoiced on viewing this venerable and precious relic of scriptural antiquity. Lambecius and Mabillon have given fac-similes of it; and I think Montfaucon also--in his _Palæographia Græca_. At the end of this fragment, are four pages of the _Gospel of St. Luke_--or, rather, figures of the four Evangelists; which are also engraved by Lambecius, and, from him, by Nesselius and Kollarius.[113] SACRAMENTARIUM, SEU MISSA PAPÆ GREGORII, an oblong large octavo, or small folio form. I own I have doubts about calling this volume a contemporaneous production; that is to say, of the latter end of the sixth century. The exterior, which, on the score of art, is more precious than the interior, is doubtless however of a very early period. It consists of an ivory figure of St. Jerome, guarded by a brass frame. The character of the interior, as to its scription, does not appear to be older than the tenth century. GERMAN BIBLE of the EMPEROR WENCESLAUS, in six folio volumes. This too was another of the particularly curious MSS. which, since the account of it in my Decameron, I had much desired to see. It is, upon the whole, an imperial production: but as extraordinary, and even whimsical, as it is magnificent. Of these six volumes, only three are illuminated; and of the third, only two third parts are finished. The text is a large lower-case gothic letter, very nearly a quarter of an inch in height. The ornamental or border illuminations have more grace and beauty than the subjects represented; although, to the eye of an antiquarian virtuoso, the representations of the unfortunate monarch will be the most interesting. I should notice by the way, on the competent authority of M. Kopitar, that this German version of the Bible is one of the most ancient extant. These books have suffered, in the binding, from the trenchant tools of the artist. The gold in the illuminations is rather bright than refulgent. I now proceed with an account of some other MSS. appertaining to Scripture; and hasten to introduce to your notice a magnificent folio volume, entitled EVANGELISTARIUM, with a lion's head in the centre of the exterior binding, surrounded by golden rays, and having a lion's head in each corner of the square. The whole is within an arabesque border. There can be no doubt of the binding being of the time of Frederick III. of the middle of the fourteenth century; and it is at once splendid and tasteful. The book measures nearly fifteen inches by ten. The inside almost surpasses any thing of the kind I have seen. The vellum is smooth, thin, and white--and the colours are managed so as to have almost a faëry like effect. Each page is surrounded with a light blue frame, having twisted flowers for corner ornaments: the whole of a quiet, soft tint, not unlike what appears in the Bible of Wenceslaus. Every line is written in a tall, broad gothic letter--and every letter is _gold_. But the illuminations merit every commendation. They are of various kinds. Some are divided into twelve compartments: but the initial L, to the first page, _L_[_iber Generationis_] is the most tasteful, as well as elaborate thing I ever saw.[114] The figures of angels, on the side, and at bottom, have even the merit of Greek art. A large illumination of our Saviour, with the Virgin and Joseph below, closes the volume: which really can hardly be sufficiently admired. The date of the text is 1368. I shall now give you an account of a few MISSALS of a higher order on the score of art. And first, let me begin with a beautiful FLEMISH MISSAL, in 8vo.: in the most perfect state of preservation--and with the costliest embellishments--as well as with a good number of drollerries _dotted_ about the margins. The frame work, to the larger subjects, is composed of gothic architecture. I am not sure that I have seen any thing which equals the _drolleries_--for their variety, finish, and exquisite condition. The vellum is not to be surpassed. What gives this book an additional value is, that it was once the property of Charles V.: for, on the reverse of fol. 157, at bottom, is the following memorandum in his hand writing: _Afin que Ie Ioye de vous recommandé accepté bonne Dame cest mis sÿ en escript vostre vraÿ bon mestre._ CHARLES. A lovely bird, in the margin, is the last illumination. In the whole, there are 179 leaves. The next article is a LARGE MISSAL, in letters of gold and silver, upon black paper: a very extraordinary book--and, to me, unique. The first illumination shews the arms of Milan and Austria, quarterly, surrounded by an elaborate gold border. The text is in letters of silver--tall stout gothic letters--with the initial letters of gold. Some of the subjects are surrounded by gold borders, delightfully and gracefully disposed in circles and flowers. At the bottom of the page, which faces the descent of the Holy Ghost, is a fool upon horseback--very singular--and very spiritedly touched. The binding is of red velvet, with a representation of the cloven tongues at the day of Pentecost in silver-gilt. A third MISSAL, of the same beautiful character, is of an octavo form. The two first illuminations are not to be exceeded, of their kind. The borders, throughout, are arabesque, relieved by _cameo gris_,--with heads, historical subjects, and every thing to enchant the eye and warm the heart of a tasteful antiquary. The writing is a black, large, gothic letter, not unlike the larger gothic font used by Ratdolt. The vellum is beautiful. The binding is in the Grolier style. The last and not the least, in the estimation of a competent judge of MSS.,--is, a German version of the HORTULUS ANIMÆ of S. Brant. The volume in question is undoubtedly among the loveliest books in the Imperial Library. The character, or style of art, is not uncommon; but such a series of sweetly drawn, and highly finished subjects, is hardly any where to be seen--and certainly no where to be eclipsed. I should say the art was rather Parisian than Flemish. The first in the series, is the following; executed for me by M. Fendi. It occurs where the illuminations usually commence, at the foot of the first page of the first Psalm. Observe, I beseech you, how tranquilly the boat glides along, and how comfortable the party appears. It is a hot day, and they have cut down some branches from the trees to fasten in the sides of the boat--in order to screen them from the heat of the sun. The flagon of wine is half merged in the cooling stream--so that, when they drink, their thirst will be more effectually quenched. There are viands, in the basket, beside the rower; and the mingled sounds of the flageolets and guitar seem to steal upon your ear as you gaze at the happy party--and, perhaps, long to be one of them! [Illustration] A hundred similar sweet things catch the eye as one turns over the spotless leaves of this snow-white book. But the very impressive scene of Christ asleep, watched by angels--(with certain musical instruments in their hands, of which M. Kopitar could not tell me the names,) together with another illumination of Mary, and Joseph in the distance, can hardly be described with justice. The Apostles and Saints are large half lengths. St. Anthony, with the devil in the shape of a black pig beneath his garment, is cleverly managed; but the head is too large. Among the female figures, what think you of MARY MAGDALENE--as here represented? And where will you find female penance put to a severer trial? I apprehend the box, in front of her, to be a _pix_, containing the consecrated elements. [Illustration] I now proceed to give you some account of MSS. of a different character: _classical_, _historical_, and appertaining to _Romance_--which seemed to me to have more particular claims upon the attention of the curious. The famous Greek DIOSCORIDES shall lead the way. This celebrated MS. is a large, thick, imperial quarto; measuring nearly fifteen inches by twelve. The vellum is thin, and of a silky and beautiful texture. The colours in the earlier illuminations are thickly coated and glazed, but very much rubbed; and the faces are sometimes hardly distinguishable. The supposed portrait of Dioscorides (engraved--as well as a dozen other of these illuminations--in Lambecius, &c.) is the most perfect. The plants are on one side of the leaf, the text is on the other. The former are, upon the whole, delicately and naturally coloured. At the end, there is an ornithological treatise, which is very curious for the colouring of the birds. This latter treatise is written in a smaller Greek capital letter than the first; but M. Kopitar supposes it to be as ancient. We know from an indisputably coeval date, that this precious MS. was executed by order of the Empress Juliana Anicia in the year of Christ 505. There is a smaller MS. of Dioscorides, of a more recent date, in which the plants are coloured, and executed--one, two, or three, in number--upon the rectos of the leaves, with the text below, in two columns. Both the illuminations and the text are of inferior execution to those of the preceding MS. Montfaucon, who never saw the larger, makes much of the smaller MS.; which scarcely deserves comparison with it. PHILOSTRATUS; Lat. This is the MS. which belonged to Matthias Corvinus--and of which the illuminations are so beautiful, that Nesselius has thought it worth while to give a fac-simile of the first--from whence I gave a portion to the public in the Bibliog. Decameron.[115] I think that I may safely affirm, that the two illuminations, which face each other at the beginning, are the finest, in every respect, which I have seen of that period; but they have been sadly damaged. The two or three other illuminations, by different hands, are much inferior. The vellum and writing are equally charming. VALERIUS MAXIMUS. This copy has the name of _Sambucus_ at the bottom of the first illumination, and was doubtless formerly in the collection of Matthias Corvinus--the principal remains of whose magnificent library (although fewer than I had anticipated) are preserved in this collection. The illumination in the MS. just mentioned, is very elegant and pleasing; but the colours are rather too dark and heavy. The intended portrait of the Roman historian, with the arms and supporters below, are in excellent good taste. The initial letters and the vellum are quite delightful. The scription is very good. LIVIUS: in six folio volumes. We have here a beautiful and magnificent MS. in a fine state of preservation. There is only one illumination in each volume; but that "one" is perhaps the most perfect specimen which can be seen of that open, undulating, arabesque kind of border, which is rather common in print as well as in MS., towards the end of the fifteenth century. These six illuminations, for invention, delicacy, and brilliancy of finish, are infinitely beyond any thing of the kind which I have seen. The vellum is perfectly beautiful. To state which of these illuminations is the most attractive, would be a difficult task; but if you were at my elbow, I should direct your particular attention to that at the beginning of the IXth book of the IVth Decad--especially to the opposite ornament; where two green fishes unite round a circle of gold, with the title, in golden capitals, in the centre. O Matthias Corvinus, thou wert surely the EMPEROR of Book Collectors! BOOK OF BLAZONRY, or of ARMS. This is an enormous folio MS. full of heraldic embellishments relating to the HOUSE of Austria. Among these embellishments, the author of the text--who lived in the XVIth century, and who was a very careful compiler--has preserved a genuine, original portrait of LEOPOLD de SEMPACH, of the date of 1386. It is very rarely that you observe portraits of this character, or form, introduced into MSS. of so early a period. A nobler heraldic volume probably does not exist. It is bound in wood, covered with red velvet; and the edges are gilt, over coloured armorial ornaments. From _such_ a volume, the step is both natural and easy to ROMANCES. Sir TRISTAN shall lead the way. Here are _three_ MSS. of the feats of that Knight of the Round Table. The first is of the XIIIth century; written in three columns, on a small thick gothic letter. It has some small, and perfect illuminations. This MS. became the property of Prince Eugene. It was taken to Paris, but restored: and has yet the French imperial eagle stamped in red ink. It is indeed a "gloriously ponderous folio." A second MS. of the SAME ROMANCE is written in two columns, in a full short gothic letter. It is very large, and the vellum is very perfect. The illuminations, which are larger than those in the preceding MS. are evidently of the early part of the xvth century. This book also belonged to Prince Eugene. It is doubtless a precious volume. A third MS. executed in pale ink, in a kind of secretary gothic letter, is probably of the latter end of the XIVth century. The illuminations are only slightly tinted. BRUT D'ANGLETTERRE. I should apprehend this MS. to be of the early part of the XIVth century. It is executed in a secretary gothic letter, in double columns, and the ink is much faded in colour. It has but one illumination, which is at the beginning, and much faded. This was also Prince Eugene's copy; and was taken to Paris, but restored. The last, but perhaps the most valuable in general estimation, of the MSS. examined by me, was the AUTOGRAPH of the GERUSALEMME LIBERATA, or, as formerly called, CONQUISTATA,[116] of Tasso: upon which no accomplished Italian can look but with feelings almost approaching to rapture. The MS. is imperfect; beginning with the xxxth canto of the second book, and ending with the LXth canto of the twenty-third book. The preceding will probably give you some little satisfaction respecting the MSS. in this very precious collection. I proceed therefore immediately to an account of the PRINTED BOOKS; premising that, after the accounts of nearly similar volumes, described as being in the libraries previously visited, you must not expect me to expatiate quite so copiously as upon former occasions. I have divided the whole into four classes; namely, 1. THEOLOGY; 2. CLASSICS; 3. MISCELLANEOUS, LATIN; (including Lexicography) 4. ITALIAN; and 5. FRENCH and GERMAN, exclusively of Theology. I have also taken the pains of arranging each class in alphabetical order; so that you will consider what follows to be a very sober, and a sort of bibliopolistic, catalogue. THEOLOGY. AUGUSTINUS (Sts.) DE CIV. DEI. _Printed in the Soubiaco Monastery, 1467_. Folio. A fine large copy; but not equal to that in the Royal Library at Paris or in Lord Spencer's collection. I should think, however, that this may rank as the third copy for size and condition. ---- _Printed by Jenson._ 1475. Folio. A very beautiful book, printed upon white and delicate VELLUM. Many of the leaves have, however, a bad colour. I suspect this copy has been a good deal cropt in the binding. AUGUSTINI S. EPISTOLÆ. LIBRI XIII. CONFESSIONUM. 1475. Quarto. This volume is printed in long lines, in a very slender roman type, which I do not just now happen to remember to have seen before; and which _almost_ resembles the delicacy of the types of the first _Horace_, and the _Florus_ and _Lucan_--so often noticed: except that the letters are a little too round in form. The present is a clean, sound copy; unbound. BIBLIA LATINA. This is the _Mazarine_ Edition; supposed to be the first Bible ever printed. The present is far from being a fine copy; but valuable, from possessing the four leaves of a Rubric which I was taught to believe were peculiar to the copy at Munich.[117] BIBLIA LATINA; _Printed by Pfister_, folio, 3 volumes. I was told that the copy here was upon vellum; but inaccurately. The present was supplied by the late Mr. Edwards; but is not free from stain and writing. Yet, although nothing comparable with the copy in the Royal Library at Paris, or with that in St. James's Place, it is nevertheless a very desirable acquisition--and is quite perfect. ---- _Printed by Fust and Schoeffher._ 1462. Folio. 2 vols. UPON VELLUM. This was Colbert's copy, and is large, sound, and desirable. ---- _Printed by Mentelin._ Without Date. Perhaps the rarest of all Latin Bibles; of which, however, there is a copy in the royal library at Paris, and in the public libraries of Strasbourg and Munich. I should conjecture its date to be somewhere about 1466.[118] The present is a clean and sound, but much cropt copy. ---- _Printed by Sweynhyem and Pannartz._ Folio. 1471-2, 2 vols. A remarkably fine large copy, almost uncut: in modern russia binding. This must form a portion of the impression by the same printers, with the Commentary of De Lyra, in five folio volumes. BIBLIA LATINA; _Printed by Hailbrun_. 1476. Folio. Here are _two_ copies; of which one is UPON VELLUM, and the other upon paper: both beautiful--but the vellum copy is, I think, in every respect, as lovely a book as Lord Spencer's similar copy. It measures eleven inches one sixteenth by seven one eighth. It has, however, been bound in wretched taste, some fifty years ago, and is a good deal cropt in the binding. The paper copy, in 2 vols. is considerably larger. BIBLIA LATINA. _Printed by Jenson_. 1479. Folio. Here, again, are two copies; one upon paper, the other UPON VELLUM. Of these, the vellum copy is much damaged in the principal illumination, and is also cropt in the binding. The paper copy can hardly be surpassed, if equalled. BIBLIA ITALICA. MALHERBI. _Printed in the month of October,_ 1471. Folio. 2 vols. Perhaps one of the finest and largest copies in existence; measuring, sixteen inches five eighths by eleven. It is bound (if I remember rightly) in blue morocco. BIBLIA HEBRAICA. _Printed at Soncino_. 1488. Folio. FIRST EDITION OF THE HEBREW BIBLE. Of all earliest impressions of the sacred text, this is doubtless the MOST RARE. I am not sure that there are _two_ copies of it in England or in France. In our own country, the Bodleian library alone possesses it. This is a beautiful, clean copy, but cropt a little too much in the binding. It has had a journey to _Paris_, and gained a coat of blue morocco by the trip. The binder was Bozerain. This was the first time that I had seen a copy of the FIRST HEBREW BIBLE. There was only one _other_ feeling to be gratified:--that _such_ a copy were safely lodged in St. James's Place. BIBLIA POLONICA. 1563. Folio. The Abbé Strattman, at Mölk, had apprised me of the beauty and value of this copy--of one of the scarcest impressions of the sacred text. This copy was, in fact, a PRESENTATION COPY to the Emperor Maximilian II., from Prince Radzivil the Editor and Patron of the work. It is rather beautifully white, for the book--which is usually of a very sombre complexion. The leaves are rather tender. It is bound in red velvet; but it is a pity they do not keep it in a case--as the back is wearing away fast. Notwithstanding the Abbé Strattman concluded his account of this book with the exclamation of--"Il n'y en a pas comme celui-là," I must be allowed to say, that Lord Spencer may yet indulge in a strain of triumph... on the possession of the copy, of this same work, which I secured for him at Augsbourg;[119] and which is, to the full, as large, as sound, and in every respect as genuine a book. JERONIMI STI. EPISTOLÆ. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz._ 1468. Folio. 2 vols. A magnificent and unique copy, UPON VELLUM. "There are ONLY SIX VELLUM Sweynheyms and Pannartz in the world,"--said the Abbé Strattman to me, in the library of the Monastery of Mölk. "Which be they?" replied I. "They are these"--answered he ... "the _Cæsar_, _Aulus Gellius_, and _Apuleius_--ach the edit. prin.--of the date of 1469: and the _Epistles of St Jerom_, of 1468--all which four books you will see at Vienna:--the _Livy_, which Mr. Edwards bought; and the _Pliny_ of 1470, which is in the library of Lord Spencer. These are the only known vellum Sweynheyms and Pannartz." I looked at the volumes under consideration, therefore, with the greater attention. They are doubtless noble productions; and this copy is, upon the whole, fine and genuine. It is not, however, so richly ornamented, nor is the vellum quite so white, as Lord Spencer's Pliny above mentioned. Yet it is bound in quiet old brown calf, having formerly belonged to Cardinal Bessarion, whose hand writing is on the fly leaf. It measures fifteen inches three eighths, by eleven one sixteenth. LACTANTII OPERA. _Printed in the Soubiaco Monastery._ 1465. Folio. Here are two copies of this earliest production of the Italian press. That which is in blue morocco binding, is infinitely the worse of the two. The other, in the original binding of wood, is, with the exception of Mr. Grenville's copy, the finest which I have ever seen. This however is slightly stained, by water, at top. ---- _Printed at Rostock._ 1476. Folio. A copy UPON VELLUM--which I had never seen before. The vellum is thin and beautiful, but this is not a _comfortable_ book in respect to binding. A few leaves at the beginning are stained. Upon the whole, however, it is a singularly rare and most desirable volume.[120] MISSALE MOZARABICUM. 1500. Folio. First Edition. A book of exceedingly great scarcity, and of which I have before endeavoured to give a pretty full and correct history.[121] The present is a beautiful clean copy, bound in blue morocco, apparently by De Seuil--from the red morocco lining within: but this copy is not so large as the one in St. James's Place. The MOZARABIC BREVIARY, its companion, which is bound in red morocco, has been cruelly cropt. MISSALE HERBIPOLENSE. Folio: with the date of 1479 in the prefatory admonition. This precious book is UPON VELLUM; and a more beautiful and desirable volume can hardly be found. There is a copper-plate of coat-armour, in outline, beneath the prefatory admonition; and M. Bartsch, who was by the side of me when I was examining the book, referred me to his _Peintre Graveur_, vol. x. p. 57. where this early copper-plate is noticed. PSALTERIUM. Latinè. _Printed by Fust and Schoeffher._ 1457. Folio. EDITIO PRINCEPS. If there be ONE book, more than another, which should induce an ardent bibliographer to make a pilgrimage to Vienna, THIS is assuredly the volume in question! And yet, although I could not refrain from doing, what a score of admiring votaries had probably done before me--namely, bestowing a sort of _oscular_ benediction upon the first leaf of the text--yet, I say, it may be questionable whether this copy be as large and fair as that in our Royal Collection!? Doubtless, however, this is a very fine and almost invaluable copy of the FIRST BOOK printed with metal types, with a date subjoined. You will give me credit for having asked for a sight of it, the _very first thing_ on my entrance into the room where it is kept. It is, however, preserved in rather a loose and shabby binding, and should certainly be protected by every effort of the bibliopegistic art. The truth is, as M. Kopitar told me, that every body--old and young, ignorant and learned--asks for a sight of this marvellous volume; and it is, in consequence, rarely kept in a state of quiescence one week throughout the year: excepting during the holidays. PSALTERIUM. Latinè. _Without Printer's name or Date._ _Folio._ This is doubtless a magnificent book, printed in the gothic letter, in red and black, with musical lines not filled up by notes. The text has services for certain Saints days. What rendered this volume particularly interesting to my eyes, was, that on the reverse of the first leaf, beneath two lines of printed text, (in the smaller of two sizes of gothic letter) and two lines of scored music in red, I observed an impression of the very same copper-plate of coat-armour, which I had noticed in the Wurtzburg Missal of 1482, at Oxford, described in the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. 30. Although M. Bartsch had noticed this copper-plate, in its outline character, in the above previously described Wurtzburg Missal, he seemed to be ignorant of its existence in this Psalter. The whole of this book is as fresh as if it had just come from the press. TESTAMENTUM NOV. Bohemicè. _Without Date._ Folio. This is probably one of the very rarest impressions of the sacred text, in the XVth century, which is known to exist. It is printed in the gothic type, in double columns, and a full page contains thirty-six lines. There are running titles. The text, at first glance, has much of the appearance of Bämler's printing at Augsbourg; but it is smaller, and more angular. Why should not the book have been printed in Bohemia? This is a very clean, desirable copy, in red morocco binding. TURRECREMATA I. DE. In LIBRUM PSALMORUM. _Printed at Crause in Suabia._ Folio. This, and the copy described as being in the Public Library at Munich, are supposed to be the only known copies of this impression. Below the colophon, in pencil, there is a date of 1475: but quære upon what authority? This copy is in most miserable condition; especially at the end. ANCIENT CLASSICAL AUTHORS. ÆSOPUS. Gr. Quarto. EDITIO PRINCEPS. A sound and perfect copy: ruled. ---- _Ital._ 1491. Quarto. In Italian poetry, by Manfred de Monteferrato. ---- 1492. Quarto. In Italian prose, by the same. Of these two versions, the Italian appears to be the same as that of the Verona impression of 1479: the cuts are precisely similar. The present is a very sound copy, but evidently cropt. APULEIUS. 1469. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz._ Folio. Editio Princeps. This copy is UPON VELLUM. It is tall and large, but not so fine as is the following article: ---- _Printed by Jenson._ 1472. Folio. A fine sound copy; in red morocco binding. Formerly belonging to Prince Eugene. AULUS GELLIUS. 1469. Folio. Edit. Prin. This is without doubt one of the very finest VELLUM copies of an old and valuable Classic in existence. There are sometimes (as is always the case in the books from the earlier Roman press) brown and yellow pages; but, upon the whole, this is a wonderful and inestimable book. It is certainly unique, as being printed upon vellum. Note well: the _Jerom, Apuleius_, and _Aulus Gellius_--with one or two others, presently to be described--were Cardinal Bessarion's OWN COPIES; and were taken from the library of St. Mark at Venice, by the Austrians, in their memorable campaign in Italy. I own that there are hardly any volumes in the Imperial Library at Vienna which interested me so much as these VELLUM SWEYNHEYMS and PANNARTZ! AUSONIUS. 1472. Folio. Editio Princeps. The extreme rarity of this book is well known. The present copy is severely cropt at top and bottom, but has a good side marginal breadth. It has also been washed; but you are only conscious of it by the scent of soap. CÆSAR. 1469. _Printed by S. and Pannartz._ Folio. Edit. Princeps. A beautiful and unique copy--UPON VELLUM. This was formerly Prince Eugene's copy; and I suspect it to be the same which is described in the _Bibl. Hulziana_, vol. i. no. 3072--as it should seem to be quite settled that the printers, Sweynheym and Pannartz, printed only _one_ copy of their respective first editions upon vellum. It is however but too manifest that this precious volume has been cropt in binding--which is in red morocco. ---- 1472. _Printed by the same._ Folio. This also was Prince Eugene's copy; and is much larger and finer than the preceding--on the score of condition. CICERO DE OFFICIIS. 1465, Quarto. Here are _two_ copies: each UPON VELLUM. One, in blue morocco, is short and small; but in very pretty condition. The other is stained and written upon. It should be cast out. ---- 1466. Quarto. UPON VELLUM. A beautiful copy, which measures very nearly ten inches in height.[122] In all these copies, the title of the "Paradoxes" is printed. CICERONIS. EPIST. FAM. 1467. Folio. Editio Princeps. Cardinal Bessarion's own copy, and unquestionably THE FINEST THAT EXISTS. The leaves are white and thick, and crackle aloud as you turn them over. It is upon paper, which makes me think that there never was a copy upon vellum; for the Cardinal, who was a great patron of Sweynheym and Pannartz, the printers, would doubtless have possessed it in that condition. At the beginning, however, it is slightly stained, and at the end slightly wormed. Yet is this copy, in its primitive binding, finer than any which can well be imagined. The curious are aware that this is supposed to have been the _first book printed at Rome_; and that the blanks, left for the introduction of Greek characters, prove that the printers were not in possession of the latter when this book was published. The Cardinal has written two lines, partly in Greek and partly in Latin, on the fly leaf. This copy measures eleven inches three eighths by seven inches seven eighths. CICERO. RHETORICA VETUS. Printed by Jenson. When I had anticipated the beauty of a VELLUM COPY of this book (in the _Bibl. Spencer._ vol. i. p. 349--here close at hand) I had not of course formed the idea of seeing such a one HERE. This vellum copy is doubtless a lovely book; but the vellum is discoloured in many places, and I suspect the copy has been cut down a little. ---- ORATIONES. _Printed by S. and Pannartz._ 1471. Folio. A beautifully white and genuine copy; but the first few leaves are rather soiled, and it is slightly wormed towards the end. A _fairer_ Sweynheym and Pannartz is rarely seen. ---- OPERA OMNIA. 1498. Folio. 4 vols. A truly beautiful copy, bound in red morocco; but it is not free from occasional ms. annotations, in red ink, in the margins. It measures sixteen inches and three quarters in height, by ten inches and three quarters in width. A fine and perfect copy of this _First Edition of the Entire Works_ of Cicero, is obtained with great difficulty. A nobler monument of typographical splendour the early annals of the press cannot boast of. HOMERI OPERA OMNIA. Gr. 1488. Folio. Editio Princeps. A sound, clean copy, formerly Prince Eugene's; but not comparable with many copies which I have seen. BATRACHOMYOMACHIA. Gr. Without date or place. Quarto. Edit. Prin: executed in red and black lines, alternately. This is a sound, clean, and beautiful copy; perhaps a little cropt. In modern russia binding. JUVENALIS. Folio. _Printed by Ulric Han_, in his larger type. A cruelly cropt copy, with a suspiciously ornamented title page. This once belonged to Count Delci. JUVENALIS. _Printed by I. de Fivizano _. _Without date_. Folio. This is a very rare edition, and has been but recently acquired. It contains twenty-seven lines in a full page. There are neither numerals, signatures, nor catchwords. On the sixty-ninth and last leaf, is the colophon. A sound and desirable copy; though not free from soil. LUCIANI OPUSCULA QUÆDAM. Lat. _Printed by S. Bevilaquensis._ 1494. Quarto. This is really one of the most covetable little volumes in the world. It is a copy printed UPON VELLUM; with most beautiful illuminations, in the purest Italian taste. Look--if ever you visit the Imperial Library--at the last illumination, at the bottom of _o v_, recto. It is indescribably elegant. But the binder should have been hung in chains. He has cut the book to the very quick--so as almost to have entirely sliced away several of the border decorations. OVIDII FASTI. _Printed by Azoguidi._ 1471. Folio. This is the whole of what they possess of this wonderfully rare EDIT. PRIN. of Ovid, printed at Bologna by the above printer:--and of this small portion the first leaf is wanting. ----, OPERA OMNIA, _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz_. 1471. Folio. 2 vols. This is a clean, large copy; supplied from two old libraries. The volumes are equally large, but the first is in the finer condition. ----, EPISTOLÆ et FASTI. I know nothing of the printer of this edition, nor can I safely guess where it was printed. The Epistles begin on the recto of _aa ii_ to _gg v_; the Fasti on A i to VV ix, including some few other opuscula; of which my memorandum is misplaced. At the end, we read the word FINIS. PLINIUS SENIOR. _Printed by I. de Spira_. 1469. Folio. Editio Princeps. We have here the identical copy--printed UPON VELLUM--of which I remember to have heard it said, that the Abbé Strattman, when he was at the head of this library, declared, that whenever the French should approach Vienna, he would march off with _this_ book under _one_ arm, and with the FIRST Psalter under the other! This was heroically said; but whether such declaration was ever _acted_ upon, is a point upon which the bibliographical annals of that period are profoundly silent. To revert to this membranaceous treasure. It is in one volume, beautifully white and clean; but ("horresco referens;") it has been cruelly deprived of its legitimate dimensions. In other words, it is a palpably cropt copy. The very first glance of the illumination at the first page confirms this. In other respects, also, it can bear no comparison with the VELLUM copy in the Royal Library at Paris.[123] Yet is it a book ... for which I know more than _one_ Roxburgher who would promptly put pen to paper and draw a check for 300 guineas--to become its possessor. PLINIUS SENIOR. _Printed by Jenson._ 1472. Folio. Another early Pliny--UPON VELLUM: very fine, undoubtedly; but somewhat cropt, as the encroachment upon the arms, at the bottom of the first illuminated page, evidently proves. The initial letters are coloured in that sober style of decoration, which we frequently observe in the illuminated volumes of Sweynheym and Pannartz; but they generally appear to have received some injury. Upon the whole, I doubt if this copy be so fine as the similar copies, upon vellum, in the libraries of the Duke of Devonshire and the late Sir M. M. Sykes. This book is bound in the highly ornamented style of French binding of the XVIIth century; and it measures almost sixteen inches one eighth, by ten inches five eighths. PLINIUS. Italicè. _Printed by Jenson._ 1476. Folio. A fine, large, pure, crackling copy; in yellow morocco binding. It was Prince Eugene's copy; but is yet inferior, in magnitude, to the copy at Paris.[124] SILIUS ITALICUS. _Printed by Laver._ 1471. Folio. The largest, soundest, and cleanest copy of this very rare impression, which I remember to have seen:--with the exception, perhaps, of that in the Bodleian Library. SUETONIUS. _Printed by S. and Pannartz._ 1470. Folio. Second Edition. A fine, sound copy, yet somewhat cropt. The first page of the text has the usual border printed ornament of the time of printing the book. This was Prince Eugene's copy. SUIDAS, Gr. 1499. Folio. 2 vols. This editio princeps of Suidas is always, when in tolerable condition, a wonderfully striking book: a masterpiece of solid, laborious, and beautiful Greek printing. But the copy under consideration--which is in its pristine boards, covered with black leather--was LAMBECIUS'S OWN COPY, and has his autograph. It is, moreover, one of the largest, fairest, and most genuine copies ever opened. TACITUS. _Printed by I. de Spira._ Folio. Edit. Prin. This is the whitest and soundest copy, of this not very uncommon book, which I have seen. It has however lost something of its proper dimensions by the cropping of the binder. TERENTIUS. _Printed by Mentelin, without date._ Folio. Editio Princeps. Of exceedingly great rarity. The present copy, which is in boards--but which richly deserves a russia or morocco binding--is a very good, sound, and desirable copy. VALERIUS MAXIMUS. _Printed by Schoeffher._ 1472. Fol. UPON VELLUM; a charming, sound copy. This book is not very uncommon upon vellum. VIRGILIUS. _Printed by Mentelin._ _Without date._ Folio. Perhaps the rarest of all the early Mentelin classics; and probably the second edition of the author. The present is a beautiful, white, sound copy, and yet probably somewhat cropt. It is in red morocco binding. Next to the very extraordinary copy of this edition, in the possession of Mr. George Hibbert, I should say that _this_ was the finest I had ever seen. ---- _Printed by V. de Spira._ 1470. Folio. It is difficult to find a thoroughly beautiful copy of this very rare book. The present is tolerably fair and rather large, but I suspect washed. The beginning is brown, and the end very brown. ---- _Printed by the Same._ 1471. Folio. This copy is perhaps the most beautiful in the world of the edition in question. It has the old ms. signatures in the corner, which proves how important the preservation of these _witnesses_ is to the confirmation of the size and genuineness of a copy of an old book. No wonder the French got possession of this matchless volume on their memorable visit to Vienna in 1805 or 1809. It was bound in France, in red morocco, and is honestly bound. This is, in short, a perfect book. ---- _Printed by Jenson._ 1475. Folio. A very fine, crackling copy, in the old wooden binding; but the beginning and end are somewhat stained. MISCELLANEOUS LATIN.[125] ÆNEAS SYLVIUS DE DUOBUS AMANTIBUS. Without date. Quarto. This is the only copy which I have seen, of probably what may be considered the FIRST EDITION of this interesting work. It has twenty-three lines in a full page, and is printed in the large and early roman type of _Gering_, _Crantz_, and _Friburger_. Cæsar and Stoll doubtless reprinted this edition. In the whole, there are forty-four leaves. The present is a fair sound copy. ALEXANDER GALLUS: vulgò DE VILLA DEI: DOCTRINALE. _Without date._ Folio. There are few books which I had so much wished to see as the present. The bibliographers of the old school had a great notion of the typographical antiquity of this _work_ if not of _this edition_ of it: but I have very little hesitation, in the first place, of attributing it to the press of _Vindelin de Spira_--and, in the second place, of assigning no higher antiquity to it than that of the year 1471. It is however a book of some intrinsic curiosity, and of unquestionably great rarity. I saw it here for the first time. The present copy is a decidedly much-cropt folio; but in most excellent condition. AQUINAS THOMAS. SECUNDA SECONDÆ. _Printed by Schoeffher._ 1467. Folio. A fine, large copy, printed UPON VELLUM: the vellum is rather too yellow; but this is a magnificent book, and exceedingly rare in such a state. It is bound in red morocco. ---- OPUS QUARTISCRIPTUM. _Printed by Schoeffher._ 1469. Folio. We have here another magnificent specimen of the early Mentz press, struck off UPON VELLUM, and executed in the smallest gothic type of the printer. This is a gloriously genuine copy; having the old pieces of vellum pasted to the edges of the leaves, by way of facilitating the references to the body of the text. There is a duplicate copy of this edition, upon paper, wanting some of the earlier leaves, and which had formerly belonged to Prince Eugene. It is, in other respects, fair and desirable. ---- IN EVANG. MATTH. ET MARC. _Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz._ 1470. Folio. A fine, large, white, and crackling copy; but somewhat cut; and not quite free from the usual foxy tint of the books executed by these earliest Roman printers. BARTHOLUS. LECTURA. _Printed by V. de Spira._.1471, Folio. One of the finest specimens imaginable of the press of V. de Spira. It is a thick folio, executed in double columns. The first page of this copy is elegantly illuminated with portraits, &c.; but the arms at bottom prove that some portion of the margin has been cut away--even of this magnificent copy. At the end--just before the date, and the four colophonic verses of the printer--we read: "_Finis primi ptis lecture dni Bartoli super ffto nouo_." BELLOVACENSIS (P.) SPECULUM HISTORIALE, Folio. The four volumes in ONE!--of eight inches in thickness, including the binding. The present copy of this extraordinary performance of Peter de Beauvais is as pure and white as possible. The type is a doubtful gothic letter: doubtful, as to the assigning to it its proper printer. CATHOLICON. 1460. Folio. 2 vols. A tolerably fair good copy; in red morocco binding. ---- 1469. _Printed by Gunther Zeiner._ 2 vols. Folio. This copy is UPON VELLUM, of a fair and sound quality. I suspect that it has been somewhat diminished in size, and may not be larger than the similar copy at Göttwic Monastery. In calf binding. DURANDUS. RAT. DIV. OFFIC. _Printed by Fust and Schoeffher._ 1459. Folio. This book, which is always UPON VELLUM, was the Duke de La Valliere's copy. It is the thinnest I ever saw, but it is quite perfect. The condition is throughout sound, and the margins appear to retain all their pristine amplitude. It is bound in morocco. FICHETI RHETORICA. _Printed by Gering_, &c. Quarto. This copy is UPON VELLUM, not indifferently illuminated: but it has been cruelly cropt. LUDOLPHUS. DE TERRA SANCTA and ITINERE IHEROSO-LOMITANO. _Without date or place._ Folio. I never saw this book, nor this work, before. The text describes a journey to Jerusalem, undertaken by Ludolphus, between the years 1336 and 1350. This preface is very interesting; but I have neither time nor space for extracts. At the end: "_Finit feliciter libellus de itinere ad terram sanctam, &_." This impression is printed in long lines, and contains thirty-six leaves.[126] MAMMOTRECTUS. _Printed by Schoeffher._ 1470. Folio. Here are two copies; of which one is UPON VELLUM--but the paper copy is not only a larger, but in every respect a fairer and more desirable, book. The vellum copy has quite a foggy aspect. NONIUS MARCELLUS. _Without name of printer or place._ 1471. Folio. This is the first edition of the work with a date, but the printer is unknown. It is executed in a superior style of typographical elegance; and the present is as fine and white a copy of it as can possibly be possessed. I think it even larger than the Göttwic copy. PETRARCHA. HISTORIA GRISELDIS. _Printed by G. Zeiner._ 1473. Folio. Whether _this_ edition of the HISTORY OF PATIENT GRISEL, or that printed by Zel, without date, be the earliest, I cannot pretend to say. This edition is printed in the roman type, and perhaps is among the very earliest specimens of the printer so executed. It is however a thin, round, and scraggy type. The book is doubtless of extreme rarity. This copy was formerly Prince Eugene's, and is bound in red morocco. PHALARIDIS EPISTOLÆ. Lat. 1471. Quarto. This is the first time (if I remember rightly) that the present edition has come under my notice. It is doubtless of excessive rarity. The type is a remarkably delicate, round, widely spread and roman letter. At the end is the colophon, in capital letters. PHALARIDIS EPISTOLÆ. _Printed by Ulric Han._ _Without date._ Folio. This is among the rarest editions of the Latin version of the Epistles of Phalaris. It is executed in the second, or ordinary roman type of Ulric Han. In the whole there are thirty leaves; and I know not why this impression may not be considered as the first, or at least the second, of the version in question. POGGII FACETIÆ. _Without name of Printer, Place, or Date._ Folio. It is for the first time that I examine the present edition, which I should not hesitate to pronounce the FIRST of the work in question. The types are those which were used in the _Eusebian Monastery_ at Rome. A full page has twenty-three lines. This is a sound, clean copy; in calf binding. PRISCIANUS. _Printed by V. de Spira._ 1470. Folio. Editio princeps. A beautiful, large, white, and crackling copy, in the original wooden binding. Is one word further necessary to say that a finer copy, upon paper, cannot exist? PRISCIANUS. _Printed by Ulric Han._ Folio. With the metrical version of _Dionysius de Situ Orbis_ at the end. This is a very rare book. The fount of Greek letters clearly denotes it to come from a press at Rome, and that press was assuredly Ulric Han's. This appears to have been Gaignat's copy, and is sound and desirable, but not so fine as the copy of this edition in the library of Göttwic Monastery. PTOLEMÆUS. Lat. _Printed at Bologna._ 1462. Folio. There can be no doubt of this date being falsely put for 1472 or even 1482. But this is a rare book to possess, with all the copper plates, which this copy has--and it is moreover a fine copy. PTOLEMÆUS. _Printed by Buckinck._ 1478. Folio. Another fine and perfect copy of a volume of considerable rarity, and interest to the curious in the history of early engraving. TURRECREMATA I. de. MEDITATIONES. _Printed by Ulric Han._ 1467. Folio. This wonderfully rare volume is justly shewn among the "great guns" of the Imperial Library. It was deposited here by the late Mr. Edwards; and is considered by some to be the _first book printed at Rome_, and is filled with strange wood-cuts.[127] The text is uniformly in the large gothic character of Ulric Han. The French were too sensible of the rarity and value of this precious book, to suffer it to remain upon the shelves of the Imperial library after their first triumphant visit to Vienna; and accordingly it was carried off, among other book trophies, to Paris--from whence it seems, naturally as it were, to have taken up its present position. This is a very fine copy; bound in blue morocco, with the cuts uncoloured. It measures thirteen inches and a quarter, by very nearly nine and a quarter: being, what may be fairly called, almost its pristine dimensions. Whenever you visit this library, ask to see, among the very first books deserving of minute inspection, this copy of the Meditations of John de Turrecremata: but, remember--_a yet finer_ copy is within three stones-throw of Buckingham Palace! VALTURIUS DE RE MILITARI. 1472. Folio. Edit. Prin. A fine, clean copy; in red morocco binding. Formerly, in the collection of Prince Eugene. Such a hero, however, should have possessed it UPON VELLUM!--although, of the two copies of this kind which I have seen, neither gave me the notion of a very fine book. BOOKS IN THE ITALIAN LANGUAGE. _Bella (La) Mono._ _Without name of Printer._ 1474. Quarto. This is the first time of my inspecting the present volume; of which the printer is not known--but, in all probability, the book was printed _at Venice_. It is executed in a round, tall, roman letter. This is a cropt and soiled, but upon the whole, a desirable copy: it is bound in red morocco, and was formerly Prince Eugene's. _Berlinghieri._ _Geografia._ _Without Place or Date._ Folio. Prima Edizione. It does the heart good to gaze upon such a copy of so estimable and magnificent a production as the present. This book belonged to Prince Eugene, and is bound in red morocco. It is quite perfect--with all the copper-plate maps. _Boccaccio._ _Il Decamerone._ _Printed by Zarotus._ 1476. Folio. This is an exceedingly rare edition of the Decameron. It is executed in the small and elegantly formed gothic type of the printer, with which the Latin Æsop, of the same date, in 4to, was printed. Notwithstanding this copy is of a very brown hue, and most cruelly cut down--as the illuminated first page but too decisively proves--it is yet a sound and desirable book. This is the only early edition, as far as I had an opportutunity of ascertaining, which they appear to possess of the Decameron of Boccaccio. Of the _Philocolo_, there is a folio edition of 1488; and of the _Nimphale_ there is a sound and clean copy of a dateless edition, in 4to., without name of place or printer, which ends thus--and which possibly may be among the very earliest impressions of that work: Finito il nimphale di fiesole che tracto damore. _Caterina da Bologna._ _Without Date or name of Printer._ Quarto. This is a very small quarto volume of great rarity; concluding with some poetry, and some particulars of the Life of the female Saint and author. It appears to have wholly escaped Brunet. Incomezao alcune cose d'la uita d'la sopra nominata beata Caterina. There are neither manuals, signatures, nor catchwords. This volume looks like a production of the _Bologna_ or _Mantua_ press. I never saw another copy of this curious little work. _Caterina da Siena Legendi di._ _Printed in the Monastery of St. James, at Florence._ 1477. Quarto. This is the edition which Brunet very properly pronounces to be "excessively rare." It is printed in double columns, in a small, close, and scratchy gothic type. On the 158th and last leaf, is the colophon. _Dante._ _Printed by Neumister._ 1472. Folio. PRIMA EDIZIONE. This copy is ruled, but short, and in a somewhat tender condition. Although not a first rate copy, it is nevertheless desirable; yet is this book but a secondary typographical performance. The paper is always coarse in texture, and sombre in tint. _Dante_. 1481. Folio. With the commentary of Landino. This is doubtless a precious copy, inasmuch as it contains TWENTY COPPER-PLATE IMPRESSIONS, and is withal in fair and sound condition. The fore-edge margin has been however somewhat deprived of its original dimensions. _Decor Puellarum. Printed by Jenson_. Quarto. With the false date of 1461 for 1471. This volume, which once gave rise to such elaborate bibliographical disquisition, now ceases to have any extraordinary claims upon the attention of the collector. It is nevertheless a _sine qua non_ in a library with any pretension to early typographical curiosities. The present copy is clean and tolerably large: bound by De Rome. _Fazio. Dita Mundi. Printed by L. Basiliensis_. 1474. Folio. Prima Edizione. Of unquestionably great rarity; and unknown to the earlier bibliographers. It is printed in double columns, with signatures, to _o_ in eighths: _o_ has only four leaves. This copy has the signatures considerably below the text, and they seem to have been a clumsy and _posterior_ piece of workmanship. It has been recently bound in russia. _Frezzi. Il Quadriregio_. 1481. Folio. Prima Edizione. I have before sufficiently expatiated upon the rarity of this impression. The present is a large copy, but too much beaten in the binding. The first leaf is much stained. A few of the others are also not free from the same defect. _Fulgosii Bapt. Anteros.: sive de Amore. Printed by L. Pachel. Milan_. 1496. On the reverse of the title, is a very singular wood-cut--where Death is sitting upon a coffin, and a blinded Cupid stands leaning against a tree before him: with a variety of other allegorical figures. The present is a beautiful copy, in red morocco binding. _Gloria Mulierum. Printed by Jenson_. Quarto. This is another of the early Jenson pieces which are coveted by the curious and of which a sufficiently particular account has been already given to the public[128] This copy is taller than that of the _Decor Puellarum_ (before described) but it is in too tender a condition. _Legende Di Sancti per Nicolao di Manerbi, Printed by Jenson. Without date_. Folio. It is just possible that you may not have forgotten a brief mention of a copy of this very rare book in the Mazarine Library at Paris,[129] That copy, although beautiful, was upon paper: the present is UPON VELLUM--illuminated, very delicately in the margins, with figures of divers Saints. I take the work to be an Italian version of the well known LEGENDA SANCTORUM. The book is doubtless among the most beautiful from the press of JENSON, who is noticed in the prefatory advertisement of Manerbi. _Luctus Christianorum. Printed by Jenson_. Quarto. Another of the early pieces of Jenson's press; and probably of the date of 1471. The present is a fair, nice copy; but has something of a foggy and suspicious aspect about it. I suspect it to have been washed. _Monte Sancto di Dio_. 1477. Folio. The chief value of this book consists in its having good impressions of the THREE COPPER PLATES. Of these, only _one_ is in the present copy, which represents the Devil eating his victims in the lake of Avernus, as given in the La Valliere copy. Yet the absence of the two remaining plates, as it happens, constitutes the chief attraction of this copy; for they are here supplied by two FAC-SIMILES, presented to the Library by Leopold Duke of Tuscany, of the most wonderfully perfect execution I ever saw. _Petrarcha. Sonetti e Trionfi. Printed by V. de Spira._ 1470. Folio. Prima Edizione. The last leaf of the table is unluckily manuscript; and the last leaf but one of the text is smaller than the rest--which appear to have been obtained, from another copy. In other respects, this is a large, sound, and desirable copy. It belonged to Prince Eugene. _Petrarcha. Sonetti e Trionfi. Printed by Zarotus._ 1473. Folio. This edition (if the present copy of it be perfect) has no prefix of table or biographical memorandum of Petrarch. A full page contains forty, and sometimes forty-two lines. On the recto of the last leaf is the colophon. This is a sound and clean, but apparently cropt copy; in old blue morocco binding. _Petrarcha Sonetti e Trionfi. Printed by Jenson._ 1473. Folio. A sound and desirable copy, in red morocco binding; formerly belonging to Prince Eugene. ----. _Comment. Borstii in Trionfi. Printed at Bologna._ 1475. Folio. Here are two copies of this beautifully printed, and by no means common, book. One of them belonged to Prince Eugene; and a glance upon the top corner ms. pagination evidently proves it to have been cropt. It is in red morocco binding. The other copy, bound in blue morocco, has the table inlaid; and is desirable--although inferior to the preceding. _Poggio. Historia Fiorentina. Printed by I. de Rossi._ (Jacobus Rubeus) 1476. Folio. First edition of the Italian version. This copy is really a great curiosity., The first seven books are printed _upon paper_ of a fine tone and texture, and the leaves are absolutely _uncut_: a few leaves at the beginning are soiled--especially the first; but the remainder are in delightful preservation, and shew what an old book _ought_ to be. The eighth book is entirely printed UPON VELLUM; and some of these vellum leaves are perfectly enchanting. They are of the same size with the paper, and _also uncut._ This volume has never been bound. I entreated M. Bartsch to have it handsomely bound, but not to touch the fore edges. He consented readily. _Regula Confitendi Peccata Sua._ 1473. Quarto. Of this book I never saw another copy. The author is PICENUS, and the work is written throughout in the Italian language. There are but seven leaves--executed in a letter which resembles the typographical productions of Bologna and Mantua. * * * * * GERMAN, FRENCH, AND SPANISH BOOKS. _Bone Vie (Livre De);_ qui est appelee Madenie. _Printed by A. Neyret at Chambery._ 1485. Folio. As far as signature 1 vj, the subject is prose: afterwards commences the poetry--"appelle la somme de la vision Iehan du pin." The colophon is on the reverse of the last leaf but one. A wood-cut is on the last leaf. This small folio volume is printed in a tall, close, and inelegant gothic type; reminding me much of the LIVRE DE CHASSE printed at the same place, in 1486, and now in Lord Spencer's library.[130] _Chevalier (Le) Delibre._ 1488. Quarto. This book is filled with some very neat wood cuts, and is printed in the gothic letter. The subject matter is poetical. No name appears, but I suspect this edition to have been, printed in the office of Verard. _Cité des Dames (Le Tresor de la)_--"sclon dame christine." Without Date. Folio. A fine, tall, clean copy; UPON VELLUM. The printer seems in all probability to have been _Verard_. In red morocco binding. _Coronica del Cid ruy Diaz._ _Printed at Seville._ _Without Date._ Quarto. The preceding title is beneath a neat wood-cut of a man on horseback, brandishing his sword; an old man, coming out of a gate, is beside him. The signatures from _a_ to _i vj_, are in eights. On _f ij_ is a singular wood-cut of a lion entering a room, where a man is apparently sleeping over a chess-board, while two men are rising from the table: this cut is rudely executed. On _i v_ is the colophon. This edition is executed in that peculiarly rich and handsome style of printing, in a bold gothic letter, which distinguishes the early annals of the Spanish press. The present beautifully clean copy belonged to PRINCE EUGENE; but it has been severely cropt. _Ein nuizlich büchlin_ das man nennet den Pilgrim das hat der würdig doctor keyserperg zü Augspurg geprediget. Such is the title of this singular tract, printed by _Lucas Zeisenmair_ at Augsbourg in 1498. Small 4to. It has many clever and curious wood-cuts; and I do not remember, in any part of Germany where I have travelled, to have seen another copy of it. _Fierbras._ _Printed by G. Le Roy._ 1486. Folio. This is a small folio, and the third edition of the work. This copy is quite perfect; containing the last leaf, on which is a large wood-cut. All the cuts here are coloured after the fashion of the old times. This sound and desirable copy, in red morocco binding, once graced the library of PRINCE EUGENE. _Iosephe._ _Printed by Verard._ 1492. Folio. "_Cy finist l'hystoire de Josephus de la bataille Judaique, &c_." This is a noble folio volume; printed in the large handsome type of Verard, abounding with wood cuts. It is in red morocco binding. _Jouvencel (Le)._ _Printed by Verard_, 1497. Folio. This is a fine copy, with coloured cuts, printed UPON VELLUM. It is badly bound. _Lancelot du Lac._ _Printed by Verard._ 1488. Folio. 2 vols. First Edition. A fine clean copy, but somewhat cropt. It once belonged to PRINCE EUGENE, and is bound in red morocco. ---- _Printed by the Same._ 1496. Folio. 3 vols. UPON VELLUM. In fine old red morocco binding, beautifully tooled. This copy measures fifteen inches six-eighths in height, by ten inches five-eighths in width. _Les Deux Amans._ _Printed by Verard._ 1493. Quarto. The title is beneath the large L, of which a fac-simile appears in the first vol. of my edition of our _Typographical Antiquities_. The work is old French poetry. Verard's device is on the last leaf. A copy of this book is, in all probability, in a certain black-letter French-metrical cabinet in Portland Place. _Maguelone (La Belle)._ _Printed by Trepperel._ 1492. Quarto. The preceding title is over Trepperel's device. The wood cuts in this edition have rather unusual merit; especially that on the reverse of Ciiii. A very desirable copy. _Marco Polo. Von Venedig des Grost Landtfarer. Germanicè._ _Printed by Creusner._ 1477. Folio. This is the FIRST EDITION of the Travels of MARCO POLO; and I am not sure whether the present copy be not considered unique.[131] A complete paginary and even lineal transcript of it was obtained for Mr. Marsden's forth-coming translation of the work, into our own language--under the superintendence of M. Kopitar. Its value, therefore, may be appreciated accordingly. _Regnars (Les)_ "trauersant les perilleuses voyes des folles frances du möde." _Printed by Verard._ _No Date._ 4to. This is a French metrical version from the German of Sebastian Brandt. The present edition is printed in the black letter, double columns, with wood cuts. This is a fair good copy, bound in red morocco, and formerly belonging to Prince Eugene. _Tewrdannckh._ 1517. Folio. The Emperor Maximilian's OWN COPY!--of course UPON VELLUM. The cuts are coloured. The Abbé Strattman had told me that I should necessarily find this to be the largest and completest copy in existence. It is very white and tall, measuring fifteen inches, by nine and three quarters; and perhaps the largest known. Yet I suspect, from the smooth glossy surface of the fore edge--in its recent and very common-place binding, in russia--that the side margin was once broader.[132] The cuts should not have been coloured, and the binding should haye been less vulgar: Here is ANOTHER COPY, not quite so large, with the cuts uncoloured.[133] _Tristran: chlr de la table ronde "nouellement Imprime a Paris_." Folio. _Printed by Verard._ Without Date. This is a fine sound copy, in old handsome calf binding. _Thucydide (L'hystoire de)._ _Printed by G. Gourmont._ Without Date. Folio. The translator was Claude de Seyssel, when Bishop of Marseilles, and the edition was printed at the command of Francis the First. It is executed in the small, neat, secretary gothic type of Gourmont; whose name is at the bottom of the title-page. This is a beautiful copy, struck off UPON VELLUM; but it is much cut in the fore edge, and much choked in the back of the binding, which is in red morocco. It belonged to PRINCE EUGENE. * * * * * Comparatively copious as may be the preceding list, I fear it will not satisfy you unless I make some mention of _Block Books_, and inform you whether, as you have long and justly supposed, there be not also a few _Cartons_ in the Imperial Library. These two points will occupy very little more of my time and attention. First then of _xylographical_ productions--or of books supposed to have been printed by means of wooden blocks. I shall begin with an unique article of this description. It is called _Liber Regum, seu Vita Davidis_: a folio, of twenty leaves: printed on one side only, but the leaves are here pasted together. Two leaves go to a signature, and the signatures run from A to K. Each page has two wood cuts, about twice as long as the text; or, rather, about one inch and three quarters of the text doubled. The text is evidently xylographic. The ink is of the usual pale, brown colour. This copy is coloured, of the time of the publication of the book. It is in every respect in a fine and perfect state of preservation. Here is the second, if not third edition, of the _Biblia Pauperum_; the second edition of the _Apocalypse_; the same of the _History of the Virgin_; and a coloured and cropt copy of _Hartlib's Book upon Chiromancy_: so much is it cropt, that the name of _Schopff_, the supposed printer, is half cut away. The preceding books are all clumsily bound in modern russia binding. As some compensation, however, there is a fine bound copy, in red morocco binding, of the Latin edition of the _Speculum Humanæ Salvationis_; and a very fine large copy, in blue morocco binding, of the first edition of the _Ars Memorandi per Figuras_; which latter had belonged to Prince Eugene. Of the CAXTONS, the list is more creditable; and indeed very much to be commended: for, out of our own country, I question whether the united strength of all the continental libraries could furnish a more copious supply of the productions of our venerable first printer. I send you the following account--just as the several articles happened to be taken down for my inspection. _Chaucer's Book of Fame_: a neat, clean, perfect copy: in modern russia binding. The _Mayster of Sentence_, &c. This is only a portion of a work, although it is perfect of itself, as to signatures and imprint. This copy, in modern russia binding, is much washed, and in a very tender state. _Game of Chess_; second edition. In very tender condition: bound in blue morocco, with pink lining. An exceedingly _doctored_ copy. _Iason_: a cropt, and rather dirty copy: which formerly belonged to Gulstone. It appears to be perfect; for Gulstone has observed in ms. "_This book has 148 leaves, as I told them carefully. 'Tis very scarce and valuable, and deserves an extraordinary good binding_." Below, is a note, in French; apparently by Count Reviczky. _Godfrey of Boulogne_: a perfect, large copy, in old red morocco (apparently Harleian) binding. On the fly leaf, Count Reviczky has written a notice of the date and name of the printer of the book. Opposite the autograph of _Ames_ (to whom this copy once belonged) the old price of 16_l._ 16_s._ is inserted. On the first page of the text, is the ancient autograph of _Henry Norreys_. This is doubtless the most desirable Caxtonian volume in the collection. This department of bibliography may be concluded by the mention of a sound and desirable copy of the first edition of _Littleton's Tenures_ by _Lettou_ and _Machlinia_, which had formerly belonged to Bayntun of Gray's Inn. This, and most of the preceding articles, from the early English press, were supplied to the Imperial library by the late Mr. Edwards. And now, my good friend, I hope to have fulfilled even your wishes respecting the earlier and more curious book-treasures in the Imperial Library. But I must candidly affirm, that, although _you_ may be satisfied, it is not so with myself. More frequent visits, and less intrusion upon the avocations of Messrs. BARTSCH and KOPITAR--who ought, during the whole time, to have been inhaling the breezes of Baden,--would doubtless have enabled me to render the preceding catalogue more copious and satisfactory; but, whatever be its defects, either on the score of omission or commission, it will at least have the merit of being the first, if not the only, communication of its kind, which has been transmitted for British perusal. To speak fairly, there is a prodigious quantity of lumber--in the shape of books printed in the fifteenth century--in this Imperial Library, which might be well disposed of for more precious literary productions. The MSS. are doubtless, generally speaking, of great value; yet very far indeed from being equal, either in number or in intrinsic worth, to those in the Royal Library at Paris. It is also to be deeply regretted, that, both of these MSS. and printed books--with the exception of the ponderous and digressive work of Lambecius upon the former,--there should be NO printed _catalogue raisonné_. But I will hope that the "Saturnia regna" are about to return; and that the love of bibliographical research, which now seems generally, to pervade, the principal librarians of the public collections upon the continent, will lead to the appearance of some solid and satisfactory performance upon the subjects of which this letter has treated. Fare you well. The post will depart in a few minutes, and I am peremptorily summoned to the operatical ballet of _Der Berggeist_. [109] [All this is profound matter, or secret history--(such as my friend Mr. D'Israeli dearly loves) for future writers to comment upon.] [110] [Mons. Bartsch did NOT LIVE to peruse this humble record of his worth. More of him in a subsequent note.] [111] [M. Payne now CEASES TO EXIST.] [112] My excellent friend M.A. DE BARTSCH has favoured me with the following particulars relating to the Imperial Library. The building was begun in 1723, and finished in 1735, by Joseph Emanuel, Baron de Fischer, Architect of the Court: the same who built the beautiful church of St. Charles Borromeo, in the suburbs. The Library is 246 German feet in length, by 62 in width: the oval dome, running at right angles, and forming something like transepts, is 93 feet long, and 93 feet high, by 57 wide. The fresco-paintings, with which the ceiling of the dome in particular is profusely covered, were executed by Daniel Gran. The number of the books is supposed to amount to 300,000 volumes: of which 8000 were printed in the XVth. century, and 750 are atlas folios filled with engravings. These 750 volumes contain about 180,000 prints; of which the pecuniary value, according to the computation of the day, cannot be less than 3,300,000 "florins argent de convention"--according to a valuation (says M. Bartsch) which I made last year. This may amount to £300,000. of our money. I apprehend there is nothing in Europe to be put in competition with such a collection. [113] The reader may not be displeased to consult, for one moment, the _Bibliog. Decameron_; vol. i. pp. xliii. iv. [114] [A sad tale is connected with the procuring of a copy, or fac-simile, of the initial letter in question. I was most anxious to possess a _coloured_ fac-simile of it; and had authorised M. Bartsch to obtain it at _almost_ any price. He stipulated (I think with M. Fendi) to obtain it for £10. sterling; and the fac-simile was executed in all respects worthy of the reputation of the artist, and to afford M. Bartsch the most unqualified satisfaction. It was dispatched to me by permission of the Ambassador, in the Messenger's bag of dispatches:--but it NEVER reached me. Meanwhile my worthy friend M. Bartsch became impatient and almost angry at the delay; and the artist naturally wondered at the tardiness of payment. Something like _suspicion_ had began to take possession of my friend's mind--when the fact was disclosed to him ... and his sorrow and vexation were unbounded. The money was duly remitted and received; but "the valuable consideration" was never enjoyed by the too enthusiastic traveller. This beautiful copy has doubtless perished from accident.] [115] Vol. ii. p. 458. [116] Tasso, in fact, retouched and almost remodelled his poem, under the title of _Jerusalem Conquered_, and published it under that of Jerusalem Delivered. See upon these alterations and corrections, Brunet, _Manuel du Libraire_, vol. iii. p. 298. edit. 1814; _Haym Bibl._ Ital. vol. ii. p. 28. edit. 1808; and particularly Ginguené _Hist. Lit. d'Italie,_ vol. v. p. 504. [117] See p. 139, ante. [118] Lord Spencer has now obtained a copy of it--as may be seen in _Ædes Althorpianæ_, vol. ii. pp. 39-40, where a facsimile of the type is given. [119] See pages 98, 103, 228, 239, ante. His Lordship's first copy of the POLISH PROTESTANT BIBLE had been obtained from three imperfect copies at VIENNA; for which I have understood that nearly a hundred guineas were paid. The Augsbourg copy now supplies the place of the previous one; which latter, I learn, is in the Bodleian library, at Oxford. [120] A particular account of this edition will be found in the _Bibl. Spencer._ vol. iv. page 522. [121] See the _Bibl. Spencer._; vol. i. page 135-144. [122] It is singular enough that the Curators of this Library, some twenty years ago, threw out PRINCE EUGENE'S copy of the above edition, as a duplicate--which happened to be somewhat larger and finer. This latter copy, bound in red morocco, with the arms of the Prince on the sides, now graces the shelves of Lord Spencer's Library. See _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. i. p. 305, 7. [123] See vol. ii. p. 120. [124] See vol. ii. p: 120. [125] Including LEXICOGRAPHY. [126] A copy of this edition (printed in all probability by Fyner of Eislingen) was sold at the sale of Mr. Hibbert's library for £8. 12s. [127] [Of which, specimens appear in the _Ædes Althorpianæ_, vol. ii. p. 273, &c. from the copy in Lord Spencer's collection--a copy, which may be pronounced to be the FINEST KNOWN copy in the world!] [128] _Bibl. Spenceriana_; vol. iv. p. 121. [129] Vol. ii. p. 191. [130] This book is fully described, with numerous fac-similes of the wood-cuts, in the Ædes' Althorpianæ, vol. ii. p. 204-213. [131] Since the above was written, Lord Spencer has obtained a very fine and perfect copy of it, through Messrs. Payne and Foss: which copy will be found fully described, with a fac-simile of a supposed whole-length portrait of MARCO POLO, in the _Ædes Althorpianæ_, vol. ii. p. 176. [132] I think I remember to have seen, at Messrs. Payne and Foss's, the finest copy of this book in England. It was upon vellum, in the original binding, and measured fourteen inches three quarters by nine and a half. Unluckily, it wanted the whole of the table at the end. See the _Bibliog. Decameron_, vol. i. p. 202. [Recently, my neighbour and especial good friend Sir F. Freeling, Bart. has fortunately come into the possession of a most beautifully fair and perfect copy of this resplendent volume.] [133] While upon the subject of this book, it may not be immaterial to add, that I saw the ORIGINAL PAINTINGS from which the large wood blocks were taken for the well known work entitled "the _Triumphs of the Emperor Maximilian_" in large folio. These paintings are in water colours, upon rolls of vellum, very fresh--and rather gaudily executed. They do not convey any high notion of art, and I own that I greatly prefer the blocks (of which I saw several) to the original paintings. These were the blocks which our friend Mr. Douce entreated Mr. Edwards to examine when he came to Vienna, and with these he printed the well-known edition of the Triumphs, of the date of 1794. LETTER XI. POPULATION. STREETS AND FOUNTAINS. CHURCHES. CONVENTS. PALACES. THEATRES. THE PRATER. THE EMPEROR'S PRIVATE LIBRARY. COLLECTION OF DUKE ALBERT. SUBURBS. MONASTERY OF CLOSTERNEUBURG. DEPARTURE FROM VIENNA. _Vienna, September_ 18, 1818. My dear friend; "Extremum hunc--mihi concede laborem." In other words, I shall trouble you for the last time with an epistle from the Austrian territories: at any rate, with the last communication from the capital of the empire. Since my preceding letter, I have stirred a good deal abroad: even from breakfast until a late dinner hour. By the aid of a bright sky, and a brighter moon, I have also visited public places of entertainment; for, having completed my researches at the library, I was resolved to devote the mornings to society and sights out of doors. I have also made a pleasant day's trip to the MONASTERY of CLOSTERNEUBURG--about nine English miles from hence; and have been led into temptation by the sight of some half dozen folios of a yet more exquisite condition than almost any thing previously beheld. I have even bought sundry tomes, of monks with long bushy beards, in a monastery in the suburbs, called the ROSSAU; and might, if I had pleased, have purchased their whole library--covered with the dust and cobwebs of at least a couple of centuries. As, in all previous letters, when arrived at a new capital, I must begin the present by giving you some account of the population, buildings, public sights, and national character of the place in which I have now tarried for the last three weeks; and which--as I think I observed at the conclusion of my _first_ letter from hence--was more characteristic of English fashions and appearances than any thing before witnessed by me ... even since my landing at Dieppe. The CITY of VIENNA may contain a population of 60,000 souls; but its SUBURBS, which are _thirty-three_ in number, and I believe the largest in Europe, contain full _three times_ that number of inhabitants.[134] This estimate has been furnished me by M. Bartsch, according to the census taken in 1815. Vienna itself contains 7150 houses; 123 palaces; and 29 Catholic parishes; 17 convents, of which three are filled by _Religieuses_; one Protestant church; one of the reformed persuasion; two churches of the united Greek faith, and one of the Greek, not united.[135] Of synagogues, I should think there must be a great number; for even _Judaism_ seems, in this city, to be a thriving and wealthy profession. Hebrew bibles and Hebrew almanacks are sufficiently common. I bought a recent impression of the former, in five crown octavo volumes, neatly bound in sheep skin, for about seven shillings of our money; and an atlas folio sheet of the latter for a penny. You meet with Jews every where: itinerant and stationary. The former, who seem to be half Jew and half Turk, are great frequenters of hotels, with boxes full of trinkets and caskets. One of this class has regularly paid me a visit every morning, pretending to have the genuine attar of roses and rich rubies to dispose of. But these were not to my taste. I learnt, however, that this man had recently married his daughter,--and boasted of having been able to give her a dowry equal to 10,000l. of our money. He is short of stature, with a strongly-expressive countenance, and a well-arranged turban--and laughs unceasingly at whatever he says himself, or is said of him. As Vienna may be called the key of Italy, on the land side--or, speaking less figuratively, the concentrating point where Greeks, Turks, Jews, and Italians meet for the arrangement of their mercantile affairs throughout the continent of Europe--it will necessarily follow that you see a great number of individuals belonging to the respective countries from whence they migrate. Accordingly, you are constantly struck with the number and variety of characters, of this class, which you meet from about the hour of three till five. Short clokes, edged with sable or ermine, and delicately trimmed mustachios, with the throat exposed, mark the courteous Greek and Albanian. Long robes, trimmed with tarnished silver or gold, with thickly folded girdles and turbans, and beards of unrestrained growth, point out the majestic Turk. The olive-tinted visage, with a full, keen, black eye, and a costume half Greek and half Turkish, distinguish the citizen of Venice or Verona. Most of these carry pipes, of a varying length, from which volumes of fragrant smoke occasionally issue; but the exercise of smoking is generally made subservient to that of talking: while the loud laugh, or reirated reply, or, emphatic asseveration, of certain individuals in the passing throng, adds much to the general interest of the scene. Smoking, however, is a most decidedly general characteristic of the place. Two shops out of six in some streets are filled with pipes, of which the _bowls_ exhibit specimens of the most curious and costly workmanship. The handles are generally short. A good Austrian thinks he can never pay too much for a good pipe; and the upper classes of society sometimes expend great sums in the acquisition of these objects of comfort or fashion. It was only the other evening, when, in company with my friends Messrs. G. and S., and Madame la Comtesse de------a gentleman drew forth from his pocket a short pipe, which screwed together in three divisions, and of which the upper part of the bowl--(made in the fashion of a black-a-moor's head) near the aperture--was composed of diamonds of great lustre and value. Upon enquiry, I found that this pipe was worth about 1000l. of our money!--and what surprised me yet more, was, the cool and unconcerned manner in which the owner pulled it out of a loose great-coat pocket--as if it had been a tobacco box not worth half a dozen kreutzers! Such is their love of smoking here, that, in one of their most frequented coffee-houses--where I went after dinner for a cup of coffee--the centre of the room was occupied by two billiard tables, which were surrounded by lookers on:--from the mouths of every one of whom, including even the players themselves, issued constant and pungent puffs of smoke, so as to fill the whole room with a dense cloud, which caused me instantly to retreat... as if grazed by a musket ball. Of female society I can absolutely say little or nothing. The upper circles of society are all broken up for the gaieties of Baden. Yet, at the opera, at the Prater, and in the streets, I should say that the general appearance and manners of the females are very interesting; strongly resembling, in the former respect, those of our own country. In the streets, and in the shops, the women wear their own hair, which is generally of a light brown colour, apparently well brushed and combed, platted and twisted into graceful forms. In complexion, they are generally fair, with blue eyes; and in stature they are usually short and stout. The men are, I think, every where good-natured, obliging, and extremely anxious to pay you every attention of which you stand in need. If I could but speak the language fluently, I should quickly fancy myself in England. The French language here is less useful than the Italian, in making yourself understood. So much for the living, or active life. Let me now direct your attention to inanimate objects; and these will readily strike you as relating to _Buildings_--in their varied characters of houses, churches and palaces. First, of the STREETS. I told you, a little before, that there are upwards of one hundred and twenty palaces, so called, in Vienna; but the truth is, almost every street may be said to be filled with palaces: so large and lofty are the houses of which they are usually composed. Sometimes a street, of a tolerable length, will contain only a dozen houses--as, for instance, that of the _Wallnerstrasse:_ at the further end of which, to the right, lives Mr.------ the second banker (Count Fries being the first) in Vienna. Some of the banking-houses have quite the air of noblemen's chateaux. It is true, that these houses, like our Inns of Court, are inhabited by different families; yet the external appearance, being uniform, and frequently highly decorated, have an exceedingly picturesque appearance. The architectural ornaments, over the doors and windows--so miserably wanting in our principal streets and squares, and of which the absence gives to Portland Place the look, at a distance, of a range of barracks--are here, yet more than at Augsbourg or Munich, boldly and sometimes beautifully managed. The _Palace of Prince Eugene_[136] in the street in which I reside, and which no Englishman ought to gaze at without emotions of pleasure--is highly illustrative of the justice of the foregoing remark. This palace is now converted into the _Mint_. The door-ways and window-frames are, generally, throughout the streets of Vienna, of a bold and pleasing architectural character. From one till three, the usual hour of dining, the streets of Vienna are stripped of their full complement of population; but from three till six; at the latter of which hours the plays and opera begin, there is a numerous and animated population. Notwithstanding the season of the year, the days have been sometimes even sultry; while over head has constantly appeared one of the bluest and brightest skies ever viewed by human eyes. Among the most pleasing accompaniments or characteristics of street scenery, at Vienna, are the FOUNTAINS. They are very different from those at Paris; exhibiting more representations of the human figure, and less water. In the _Place_, before mentioned, is probably the most lofty and elaborate of these sculptured accompaniments of a fountain: but, in a sort of square called the _New Market_, and through which I regularly passed in my way to the Imperial Library--there is a fountain of a particularly pleasing, and, to my eye, tasteful cast of character; executed, I think, by DONNER. A large circular cistern receives the water, which is constantly flowing into it, from some one or the other of the surrounding male and female figures, of the size of life. One of these male figures, naked, is leaning over the side of the cistern, about to strike a fish, or some aquatic monster, with a harpoon or dart--while one of his legs (I think it is the right) is thrown back with a strong muscular expression, resting upon the earth--as if to balance the figure, thus leaning forward--thereby giving it an exceedingly natural and characteristic air. Upon the whole, although I am not sure that any _one_ fountain, of the character just mentioned, may equal that in the High Street at Augsbourg, yet, taken collectively, I should say that Vienna has reason to claim its equality with any other city in Europe, on the score of this most picturesque, and frequently salutary, accompaniment of street scenery. In our own country, which has the amplest means of any other in the world, of carrying these objects of public taste into execution, there seems to be an infatuation--amounting to hopeless stupidity--respecting the uniform exclusion of them. While I am on these desultory topics, let me say a word or two respecting the _quoi vivre_ in this metropolis. There are few or no _restaurateurs_: at least, at this moment, only two of especial note.[137] I have dined at each--and very much prefer the vin du Pays, of the better sort [138]--which is red, and called _vin d'Offner_ (or some such name) to that at Paris. But the _meats_, are less choice and less curiously cooked; and I must say that the sense of smelling is not very acute with the Germans. The mutton can only be attacked by teeth of the firmest setting. The beef is always preferable in a stewed or boiled state; although at our Ambassador's table, the other day, I saw and partook of a roasted sirloin which would have done honour to either tavern in Bishopsgate-street. The veal is the _safest_ article to attack. The pastry is upon the whole relishing and good. The bread is in every respect the most nutritive and digestive which I have ever partaken of. The _fruit_, at this moment, is perfectly delicious, especially, the pears. Peaches and grapes are abundant in the streets, and exceedingly reasonable in price. Last Sunday, we dined at the palace of _Schönbrunn;_ or rather, in the suite of apartments, which were formerly servant's offices,--but which are now fitted up in a very tasteful and gay manner, for the reception of Sunday visitors: it being one of the principal fashionable places of resort on the Sabbath. We had a half boiled and half stewed fowl, beefsteak, and fritters, for dinner. The, beef was perfectly uneatable, as being entirely _gone_--but the other dishes were good and well served. The dessert made amends for all previous grievances. It consisted of peaches and grapes--just gathered from the imperial garden: the Emperor allowing his old servants (who are the owners of the taverns, and who gain a livelihood from Sunday visitors) to partake of this privilege. The choicest table at Paris or at London could not boast of finer specimens of the fruit in question. I may here add, that the _slaughter-houses_ are all in the suburbs--or, at any rate, without the ramparts. This is a good regulation; but it is horribly disgusting, at times, to observe carts going along, with the dead bodies of animals, hanging down the sides, with their heads cut off. Of all cities in Europe, Vienna is probably the most distinguished for the excellence of its CARRIAGES of every description--and especially for its _Hackney Coaches._ I grant you, that there is nothing here comparable with our London carriages, made on the nicest principles of art: whether for springs, shape, interior accommodations, or luxury; but I am certain that, for almost every species of carriage to be obtained at London, you may purchase them _here_ at half the price. Satin linings of yellow, pink, and blue, are very prevalent ... even in their hackney coaches. These latter, are, in truth, most admirable, and of all shapes: landau, barouche, phaeton, chariot, or roomy family coach. Glass of every description, at Vienna--from the lustre that illuminates the Imperial Palace to that which is used in the theatre--is excellent; so that you are sure to have plate glass in your fiacre. The coachmen drive swiftly, and delight in rectangular turns. They often come thundering down upon you unawares, and as the streets are generally very narrow, it is difficult to secure a retreat in good time. At the corners of the streets are large stone posts, to protect the houses from the otherwise constant attrition from the wheels. The streets are paved with large stones, and the noise of the wheels, arising from the rapidity of their motion,--re-echoed by the height of the houses, is no trifling trial to nervous strangers. Of the chief objects of architecture which decorate street scenery, there are none, to my old-fashioned eyes, more attractive and more thoroughly beautiful and interesting--from a thousand associations of ideas--than PLACES OF WORSHIP--and of course, among these, none stands so eminently conspicuous as the Mother-Church, or the CATHEDRAL, which, in this place, is dedicated to _St. Stephen_. The spire has been long distinguished for its elegance and height. Probably these are the most appropriate, if not the only, epithets of commendation which can be applied to it. After Strasbourg and Ulm, it appears a second-rate edifice. Not but what the spire may even vie with that of the former, and the nave may be yet larger than that of the latter: but, as a _whole_, it is much inferior to either--even allowing for the palpable falling off in the nave of Strasbourg cathedral. The spire, or tower--for it partakes of both characters--is indeed worthy of general admiration. It is oddly situated, being almost detached--and on the _south_ side of the building. Indeed the whole structure has a very strange, and I may add capricious, if not repulsive, appearance, as to its exterior. The western and eastern ends have nothing deserving of distinct notice or commendation. The former has a porch, which is called "_the Giant's porch_:" it should rather be designated as that of the _Dwarf_. It has no pretensions to size or striking character of any description. Some of the oldest parts of the cathedral appear to belong to the porch of the eastern end. As you walk round the church, you cannot fail to be struck with the great variety of ancient, and to an Englishman, whimsical looking mural monuments, in basso and alto relievos. Some of these are doubtless both interesting and curious. But the spire[140] is indeed an object deserving of particular admiration. It is next to that of Strasbourg in height; being 432 feet of Vienna measurement. It may be said to begin to taper from the first stage or floor; and is distinguished for its open and sometimes intricate fretwork. About two-thirds of its height, just above the clock, and where the more slender part of the spire commences, there is a gallery or platform, to which the French quickly ascended, on their possession of Vienna, to reconnoitre the surrounding country. The very summit of the spire is bent, or inclined to the north; so much so, as to give the notion that the cap or crown will fall in a short time. As to the period of the erection of this spire, it is supposed to have been about the middle, or latter end, of the fifteenth century. It has certainly much in common with the highly ornamental gothic style of building in our own country, about the reign of Henry the VIth. The coloured glazed tiles of the roof of the church are very disagreeable and _unharmonising_. These colours are chiefly green, red, and blue. Indeed the whole roof is exceedingly heavy and tasteless. I will now conduct you to the interior. On entering, from the south-east door, you observe, to the left, a small piece of white marble--which every one touches, with the finger or thumb charged with holy water, on entering or leaving the cathedral. Such have been the countless thousands of times that this piece of marble has been so touched, that, purely, from such friction, it has been worn nearly _half an inch_ below the general surrounding surface. I have great doubts, however, if this mysterious piece of masonry be as old as the walls of the church, (which may be of the fourteenth century) which they pretend to say it is. The first view of the interior of this cathedral, seen even at the most favourable moment--which is from about three till five o'clock--is far from prepossing. Indeed, after what I had seen at Rouen, Paris, Strasboug, Ulm, and Munich, it was a palpable disappointment. In the first place, there seems to be no grand leading feature of simplicity: add to which, darkness reigns every where. You look up, and discern no roof--not so much from its extreme height, as from the absolute want of windows. Every thing not only looks dreary, but is dingy and black--from the mere dirt and dust which seem to have covered the great pillars of the nave--and especially the figures and ornament upon it--for the last four centuries. This is the more to be regretted, as the larger pillars are highly ornamented; having human figures, of the size of life, beneath sharply pointed canopies, running up the shafts. The extreme length of the cathedral is 342 feet of Vienna measurement. The extreme width, between the tower and its opposite extremity--or the transepts--is _222_ feet. There are comparatively few chapels; only four--but many _Bethstücke_ or _Prie-Dieus_. Of the former, the chapels of _Savoy_ and _St. Eloy_ are the chief: but the large sacristy is more extensive than either. On my first entrance, whilst attentively examining the choir, I noticed--what was really a very provoking, but probably not a very uncommon sight,--a maid servant deliberately using a long broom in sweeping the pavement of the high altar, at the moment when several very respectable people, of both sexes, were kneeling upon the steps, occupied in prayer. But the devotion of the people is incessant--all the day long,--and in all parts of the cathedral. The little altars, or _Prie-Dieus,_ seem to be innumerable. Yonder kneels an emaciated figure, before a yet more emaciated crucifix. It is a female--bending down, as it were, to the very grave. She has hardly strength to hold together her clasped hands, or to raise her downcast eye. Yet she prays--earnestly, loudly, and from the heart. Near her, kneels a group of her own sex: young, active, and ardent--as she _once_ was; and even comely and beautiful ... as she _might_ have been. They evidently belong to the more respectable classes of society--and are kneeling before a framed and glazed picture of the Virgin and Child, of which the lower part is absolutely smothered with flowers. There is a natural, and as it were well-regulated, expression of piety among them, which bespeaks a genuineness of feeling and of devotion. Meanwhile, service is going on in all parts of the cathedral. They are singing here: they are praying there: and they are preaching in a third place. But during the whole time, I never heard one single note of the organ. I remember only the other Sunday morning--walking out beneath one of the brightest blue skies that ever shone upon man--and entering the cathedral about nine o'clock. A preacher was in the principal pulpit; while a tolerably numerous congregation was gathered around him. He preached, of course, in the German language, and used much action. As he became more and more animated, he necessarily became warmer, and pulled off a black cap--which, till then, he had kept upon his head: the zeal and piety of the congregation at the same time seeming to increase with the accelerated motions of the preacher. In other more retired parts, solitary devotees were seen--silent, and absorbed in prayer. Among these, I shall not easily forget the head and the physiognomical expression of one old man--who, having been supported by crutches, which lay by the side of him--appeared to have come for the last time to offer his orisons to heaven. The light shone full upon his bald head and elevated countenance; which latter indicated a genuineness of piety, and benevolence, of disposition, not to be soured... even by the most-bitter of worldly disappointments! It seemed as if the old man were taking leave of this life, in full confidence of the rewards which await the righteous beyond the grave. Not a creature was near him but myself;--when, on the completion of his devotions, finding that those who had attended him thither were not at hand to lead him away--he seemed to cast an asking eye of assistance upon me: nor did he look twice before that assistance was granted. I helped to raise him up; but, ere he could bring my hand in contact with his lips, to express his thankfulness--his friends ... apparently his daughter, and two grandchildren ... arrived--and receiving his benediction, quietly, steadily, and securely, led him forth from the cathedral. No pencil ... no pen ... can do justice to the entire effect of this touching picture. So much for the living. A word or two now for the dead. Of course this latter alludes to the MONUMENTS of the more distinguished characters once resident in and near the metropolis. Among these, doubtless the most elaborate is that of the _Emperor Frederick III_.--in the florid gothic style, surmounted by a tablet, filled with coat-armour, or heraldic shields. Some of the mural monuments are very curious, and among them are several of the early part of the sixteenth century--which represent the chins and even mouths of females, entirely covered by drapery: such as is even now to be seen ...and such as we saw on descending from the Vosges; But among these monuments--both for absolute and relative antiquity--none will appear to the curious eye of an antiquary so precious as that of the head of the ARCHITECT of THE CATHEDRAL, whose name was _Pilgram._ This head is twice seen--first, on the wall of the south side aisle, a good deal above the spectator's eye, and therefore in a foreshortened manner--as the following representation of it testifies;[141] [Illustration: S. Fresman.] The second representation of it is in one of the heads in the hexagonal pulpit--in the nave, and in which the preacher was holding forth as before mentioned. Some say that these heads represent one and the same person; but I was told that they were designated for those of the _master_ and _apprentice:_ the former being the apprentice, and the latter the master. The preceding may suffice for a description of this cathedral; in which, as I before observed, there is a palpable want of simplicity and of breadth of construction. The eye wanders over a large mass of building, without being able to rest upon any thing either striking from its magnificence, or delighting by its beauty and elaborate detail. The pillars which divide the nave from the side aisles, are however excluded from this censure. There is one thing--and a most lamentable instance of depraved taste it undoubtedly is--which I must not omit mentioning. It relates to the representation of our Saviour. Whether as a painting, or as a piece of sculpture, this sacred figure is generally made most repulsive--even, in the cathedral. It is meagre in form, wretched in physiognomical expression, and marked by disgusting appearances of blood about the forehead and throat. In the church of _St. Mary_, supposed to be the oldest in Vienna, as you enter the south door, to the left, there is a whole length standing figure of Christ--placed in an obscure niche--of which the part, immediately under the chin, is covered with red paint, in disgusting imitation of blood: as if the throat had been recently cut,--and patches of paint, to represent drops of blood, are also seen upon the feet! In regard to other churches, that of _St. Mary_, supposed to be, in part, as old as the XIIIth century, has one very great curiosity, decidedly worthy of notice. It is a group on the outside, as you enter a door in a passage or court--through which the whole population of Vienna should seem to pass in the course of the day. This group, or subject, represents our _Saviour's Agony in the garden of Gethsemane_: the favourite subject of representation throughout Austria. In the foreground, the figure of Christ, kneeling, is sufficiently conspicuous. Sometimes a handkerchief is placed between the hands, and sometimes not. His disciples are asleep by the side of him. In the middle ground, the soldiers, headed by Judas Iscariot, are leaping over the fence, and entering the garden to seize him: in the back ground, they are leading him away to Caiphas, and buffeting him in the route. These latter groups are necessarily diminutive. The whole is cut in stone--I should think about three centuries ago--and painted after the life. As the people are constantly passing along, you observe, every now and then, some devout citizen dropping upon his knee, and repeating a hurried prayer before the figure of Christ. The _Church of the Augustins_ is near at hand; and the contents of _that_ church are, to my taste and feelings, more precious than any of which Vienna may boast. I allude to the famous monument erected to the memory of the wife of the present venerable DUKE ALBERT OF SAXE TESCHEN. It is considered to be the chef d'oeuvre of CANOVA; and with justice. The church of the Augustins laying directly in my way to the Imperial Library, I think I may safely say that I used, two mornings out of three, to enter it--on purpose to renew my acquaintance with the monument in question. My admiration increased upon every such renewal. Take it, all in all, I can conceive nothing in art to go beyond it. It is alone worth a pilgrimage to Vienna: nor will I from henceforth pine about what has perished from the hand of Phidias or Praxiteles--it is sufficient that this monument remains... from the chisel of CANOVA. I will describe it briefly, and criticise it with the same freedom which I used towards the _Madonna_ of the same sculptor, in the collection of the Marquis de Sommariva at Paris.[142] At the time of my viewing it, a little after ten o'clock, the organ was generally playing--and a very fine chant was usually being performed: rather soft, tender, and impressive--than loud and overwhelming. I own that, by a thousand associations of ideas, (which it were difficult to describe) this coincidence helped to give a more solemn effect to the object before me. You enter a door, immediately opposite to it--and no man of taste can view it, unexpectedly, for the first time, without standing still ... the very moment it meets his eyes! This monument, which is raised about four feet above the pavement, and is encircled by small iron palisades--at a distance just sufficient to afford every opportunity of looking correctly at each part of it--consists of several figures, in procession, which are about to enter an opened door, at the base of a pyramid of gray marble. Over the door is a medallion, in profile, of the deceased... supported by an angel. To the right of the door is a huge lion couchant, asleep. You look into the entrance ... and see nothing ... but darkness: neither boundary nor termination being visible. To the right, a young man--resting his arm upon the lion's mane, is looking upwards, with an intensity of sorrowful expression. This figure is naked; and represents the protecting genius of the afflicted husband. To the left of the door, is the moving procession. One tall majestic female figure, with dishevelled hair, and a fillet of gold round her brow, is walking with a slow, measured step, embracing the urn which contains the ashes of the deceased. Her head is bending down, as if her tears were mingling with the contents of the urn. The drapery of this figure is most elaborate and profuse, and decorated with wreaths of flowers. Two children--symbolical, I suppose, of innocence and purity--walk by her side ... looking upwards, and scattering flowers. In the rear, appear three figures, which are intended to represent the charitable character of the deceased. Of these, two are eminently conspicuous ... namely, an old man leaning upon the arm of a young woman ... illustrative of the bounty and benevolence of the Duchess:--and intended to represent her liberality and kind-heartedness, equally in the protection of the old and feeble, as in that of the orphan and helpless young. The figures are united, as it were, by a youthful female, with a wreath of flowers; with which, indeed the ground is somewhat profusely strewn: so as, to an eye uninitiated in ancient costume, to give the subject rather a festive character. The whole is of the size of life.[143] Such is the mere dry descriptive detail of this master-piece of the art of CANOVA. I now come to a more close and critical survey of it; and will first observe upon what appear to me to be the (perhaps venial) defects of this magnificent monument. In the first place, I could have wished the medallion of the duchess and the supporting angel--_elsewhere_. It is a common-place, and indeed, here, an irrelevant ornament. The deceased has passed into eternity. The apparently interminable excavation into which the figures are about to move, helps to impress your mind with this idea. The duchess is to be thought of ... or seen, in the mind's eye... as an inhabitant of _another world_ ... and therefore not to be brought to your recollection by a common-place representation of her countenance in profile--as an inhabitant of _earth._ Besides, the chief female figure or mourner, about to enter the vault, is carrying her ashes in an urn: and I own it appears to me to be a little incongruous--or, at least, a little defective in that pure classical taste which the sculptor unquestionably possesses,--to put, what may be considered visible and invisible--or tangible and intangible--representations of the _same_ person before you at the _same_ time. If a representation of the figure of the duchess be necessary, it should not be in the form of a medallion. The pyramidal back-ground would doubtless have had a grander effect without it. The lion is also, to me, an objectionable subject. If allegory be necessary, it should be pure, and not mixed. If a _human figure_, at one end of the group, be considered a fit representation of benevolence ... the notion or idea meant to be conveyed by a _lion_, at the other end, should not be conveyed by the introduction of an animal. Nor is it at all obvious--supposing an animal to be necessary--to understand why a lion, who may be considered as placed there to guard the entrance of the pyramid, should be represented _asleep?_ If he be sympathising with the general sorrow, he should not be sleeping; for acute affliction rarely allows of slumber. If his mere object be to guard the entrance, by sleeping he shews himself to be unworthy of trust. In a word, allegory, always bad in itself, should not be _mixed_; and we naturally ask what business lions and human beings have together? Or, we suppose that the females in view have well strung nerves to walk thus leisurely with a huge lion--even sleeping--in front of them! The human figures are indeed delightful to contemplate. Perfect in form, in attitude, and expression, they proclaim the powers of a consummate master. A fastidious observer might indeed object to the bold, muscular strength of the old man--as exhibited in his legs and arms--and as indicative of the maturity, rather than of the approaching extinction, of life ... but what sculptor, in the representation of such subjects, can resist the temptation of displaying the biceps and gastrocnemian muscles? The countenances are all exquisite: all full of nature and taste... with as little introduction, as may be, of Grecian art. To my feelings, the figure of the young man--to the right of the lion--is the most exquisitely perfect. His countenance is indeed heavenly; and there is a play and harmony in the position and demarcation of his limbs, infinitely beyond any thing which I can presume to put in competition with it. In every point of view, in which I regarded this figure, it gained upon my admiration; and on leaving the church, for the last time, I said within myself--"if I have not seen the _Belvedere Apollo_, I have again and again viewed the monument to the memory of the _Duchess Albert of Saxe-Teschen_, by CANOVA... and I am satisfied to return to England in consequence." From churches we will walk together to CONVENTS. Here are only two about which I deem it necessary to give you any description; and these are, the _Convent of the Capuchins_, near the new Market Place, and that of the _Franciscans_, near the street in which I lodge. The former is tenanted by long-bearded monks. On knocking at the outer gate, the door was opened by an apparently middle-aged man, upon whose long silvery, and broad-spreading beard, the light seemed to dart down with a surprisingly, picturesque effect. Behind him was a dark cloister; or at least, a cloister very partially illumined--along which two younger monks were pacing in full costume. The person who opened the outward door proved to be the _porter_. He might, from personal respectability, and amplitude of beard, have been the _President_. On my servant's telling him our object was to view the IMPERIAL TOMBS, which are placed in a vault in this monastery, he disappeared; and we were addressed by a younger person, with a beard upon a comparatively diminutive scale, and with the top of his hair very curiously cut in a circular form. He professed his readiness to accompany us immediately into the receptacle of departed imperial grandeur. He spoke Latin with myself, and his vernacular tongue with the valet. I was soon satisfied with the sepulchral spectacle. As a whole, it has a poor and even disagreeable effect: if you except one or two tombs, such as those of _Francis I_. Emperor of the Romans, and _Maria Theresa_--which latter is the most elaborately ornamented of the whole: but it wants both space and light to be seen effectually, and is moreover I submit, in too florid a style of decoration. Like the generality of them, it is composed of bronze. The tombs of the earlier Emperors of Germany lie in a long and gloomy narrow recess--where little light penetrates, and where there is little space for an accurate examination. I should call them rather _coffin-shells_ than monuments. When I noticed the tomb of the Emperor Joseph II. to my guide, he seemed hardly to vouchsafe a glance at it ... adding, "yes, he is well known every where!" They rather consider him (from the wholesale manner in which the monasteries and convents were converted by him to civil purposes) as a sort of _softened-down Henry VIII_. Upon the whole, the living interested me more than the dead ... in this gloomy retirement ... notwithstanding these vaults are said to contain very little short of fourscore tombs of departed Emperors and Monarchs. The MONASTERY OF THE FRANCISCANS is really an object worth visiting ... if it be only to convince you of the comfort and happiness of ... _not_ being a _Franciscan monk._ I went thither several times, and sauntered in the cloisters of the quadrangle. An intelligent middle-aged woman--a sort of housekeeper of the establishment--who conversed with me pretty fluently in the French language, afforded me all the information which I was desirous of possessing. She said she had nothing to do with the kitchen, or dormitories of the monks. They cooked their own meat, and made their own beds. You see these monks constantly walking about the streets, and even entering the hotels. They live chiefly upon alms. They are usually bare-headed, and bare-footed--with the exception of sandals. Their dress is a thick brown cloak, with a cowl hanging behind in a peaked point: the whole made of the coarsest materials. They have no beards--and yet, altogether, they have a very squalid and dirty appearance. It was towards eight o'clock, when I walked for the first time, in the cloisters; and there viewed, amongst other mural decorations, an oil painting--in which several of their order are represented as undergoing martyrdom--by hanging, and severing their limbs. It was a horrid sight ... and yet the _living_ was not very attractive. Although placed in the very heart of the metropolis of their country, this Franciscan fraternity appears to be insensible of every comfort of society. To their palate, nothing seems to be so sweet as the tainted morsel upon the trencher--and to their ear, no sound more grateful than the melancholy echo, from the tread of their own cloister. Every thing, which so much pleased and gratified me in the great Austrian monasteries of CHREMSMINSTER, ST. FLORIAN, MÕLK, and GÕTTWIC, would, in such an atmosphere, and in such a tenement as the Franciscan monastery here, have been chilled, decomposed, and converted into the very reverse of all former and cheerful impressions. No walnut-tree shelved libraries: no tier upon tier of clasp and knob-bound folios: no saloon, where the sides are emblazoned by Salzburg marble; and no festive board, where the watchful seneschal never allows the elongated glass to remain five minutes unreplenished by Rhenish wine of the most exquisite flavour! None of these, nor of any thing even remotely approximating to them, were to be witnessed, or partaken of, in the dreary abode of monachism which I have just described. You will be glad to quit such a comfortless residence; and I am equally impatient with yourself to view more agreeable sights. Having visited the tombs of departed royalty, let us now enter the abodes--or rather PALACES--of _living_ imperial grandeur. I have already told you that Vienna, on the first glance of the houses, looks like a city of palaces; those buildings, which are professedly _palatial_, being indeed of a glorious extent and magnificence. And yet--it seems strange to make the remark ... will you believe me when I say, that, of the various palaces, or large mansions visited by me, that of the EMPEROR is the least imposing--as a whole? The front is very long and lofty; but it has a sort of architectural tameness about it, which gives it rather the air of the residence of the Lord Chamberlains than of their regal master. Yet the _Saloon_, in this palace, must not be passed over in silence. It merits indeed warm commendation. The roof, which is of an unusual height, is supported by pillars in imitation of polished marble ... but why are they not marble _itself_? The prevailing colour is white--perhaps to excess; but the number and quality of the looking glasses, lustres, and chandeliers, strike you as the most prominent features of this interior. I own that, for pure, solid taste, I greatly preferred the never-to-be-forgotten saloon in the monastery of St. Florian.[144] The rooms throughout the palaces are rather comfortable than gorgeous--if we except the music and ball rooms. Some scarlet velvet, of scarce and precious manufacture, struck me as exceedingly beautiful in one of the principal drawing rooms. I saw here a celebrated statue of a draped female, sitting, the workmanship of Canova. It is worthy of the chisel of the master. As to paintings, there are none worth description on the score of the old masters. Every thing of this kind seems to be concentrated in the palace of the Belvedere. To the BELVEDERE PALACE, therefore, let us go. I visited it with Mr. Lewis--taking our valet with us, immediately after breakfast--on one of the finest and clearest-skied September mornings that ever shone above the head of man. We had resolved to take the _Ambras_, or the LITTLE BELVEDERE, in our way; and to have a good, long, and uninterrupted view of the wonders of art--in a variety of departments. Both the little Belvedere and the large Belvedere rise gradually above the suburbs; and the latter may be about a mile and a half from the ramparts of the city. The _Ambras_ contains a quantity of ancient horse and foot armour; brought thither from a chateau of that name, near Inspruck, and built by the Emperor Charles V. Such a collection of old armour--which had once equally graced and protected the bodies of their wearers, among whom, the noblest names of which Germany can boast may be enrolled--was infinitely gratifying to me. The sides of the first room were quite embossed with suspended shields, cuirasses, and breast-plates. The floor was almost filled by champions on horseback--yet poising the spear, or holding it in the rest--yet _almost_ shaking their angry plumes, and pricking the fiery sides of their coursers. Here rode Maximilian--and there halted Charles his Son. Different suits of armour, belonging to the same character, are studiously shewn you by the guide: some of these are the foot, and some the horse, armour: some were worn in fight--yet giving evidence of the mark of the bullet and battle axe: others were the holiday suits of armour ... with which the knights marched in procession, or tilted at the tournament. The workmanship of the full-dress suits, in which a great deal of highly wrought gold ornament appears, is sometimes really exquisite. The second, or long room, is more particularly appropriated to the foot or infantry armour. In this studied display of much that is interesting from antiquity, and splendid from absolute beauty and costliness, I was particularly gratified by the sight of the armour which the Emperor Maximilian wore as a foot-captain. The lower part, to defend the thighs, consists of a puckered or plated steel-petticoat, sticking out at the bottom of the folds, considerably beyond the upper part. It is very simple, and of polished steel. A fine suit of armour--of black and gold--worn by an Archbishop of Salzburg in the middle of the fifteenth century, had particular claims upon my admiration. It was at once chaste and effective. The mace was by the side of it. This room is also ornamented by trophies taken from the Turks; such as bows, spears, battle-axes, and scymitars. In short, the whole is full of interest and splendor. I ought to have seen the ARSENAL--which I learn is of uncommon magnificence; and, although not so curious on the score of antiquity, is yet not destitute of relics of the old warriors of Germany. Among these, those which belonged to my old bibliomaniacal friend Corvinus, King of Hungary, cut a conspicuous and very respectable figure. I fear it will be now impracticable to see the Arsenal as it ought to be seen. It is now approaching mid-day, and we are walking towards the terrace in front of the GREAT BELVEDERE PALACE: built by the immortal EUGENE in the year 1724, as a summer residence. Probably no spot could have been selected with better judgment for the residence of a Prince--who wished to enjoy, almost at the same moment, the charms of the country with the magnificence of a city view... unclouded by the dense fumes which for ever envelope our metropolis. It is in truth a glorious situation. Walking along its wide and well cultivated terraces, you obtain the finest view imaginable of the city of Vienna. Indeed it may be called a picturesque view. The spire of the cathedral darts directly upwards, as it were, to the very heavens. The ground before you, and in the distance, is gently undulating; and the intermediate portion of the suburbs does not present any very offensive protrusions. More in the distance, the windings of the Danube are seen; with its various little islands, studded with hamlets and fishing huts, lighted up by a sun of unusual radiance. Indeed the sky, above the whole of this rich and civilized scene, was, at the time of our viewing it, almost of a dazzling hue: so deep and vivid a tint we had never before beheld. Behind the palace, in the distance, you observe a chain of mountains which extends into Hungary. As to the building itself, I must say that it is perfectly _palatial_; in its size, form, ornaments, and general effect. He must be fastidious indeed, who could desire a nobler residence for the most illustrious character in the kingdom! Among the treasures, which it contains, it is now high time to enter and to look about us. Yet what am I attempting?--to be your _cicerone_ ... in every apartment, covered with canvas or pannel, upon which colours of all hues, are seen from the bottom to the top of the palace!? It cannot be. My account, therefore, is necessarily a mere sketch. RUBENS, if any artist, seems here to "rule and reign without control!" Two large rooms are filled with his productions; besides several other pictures, by the same hand, which are placed in different apartments. Here it is that you see verified the truth of Sir Joshua's remark upon that wonderful artist: namely, that his genius seems to expand with the size of his canvas. His pencil absolutely riots here--in the most luxuriant manner--whether in the majesty of an altarpiece, in the gaiety of a festive scene [145], or in the sobriety of portrait-painting. His _Ignatius Loyola_ and _St. Francis Xavier_--of the former class--each seventeen feet high, by nearly thirteen wide--are stupendous productions ... in more senses than one. The latter is, indeed, in my humble judgment, the most marvellous specimen of the powers of the painter which I have ever seen... and you must remember that both England and France are not without some of his most celebrated productions--which I have frequently examined. In the _old German School_, the series is almost countless: and of the greatest possible degree of interest and curiosity. Here are to be seen _Wohlgemuths, Albert Durers,_ both the _Holbeins, Lucas Cranachs, Ambergaus,_ and _Burgmairs_ of all sizes and degrees of merit. Among these ancient specimens--which are placed in curious order, in the very upper suite of apartments, and of which the back-grounds of several, in one solid coat of gilt, lighten up the room like a golden sunset--you must not fail to pay particular attention to a singularly curious old subject--representing the _Life, Miracles, and Passion of our Saviour_, in a series of one hundred and fifty-eight pictures--of which the largest is nearly three feet square, and every other about fifteen inches by ten. These subjects are painted upon eighty-six small pieces of wood; of which seventy-two are contained in six folding cabinets, each cabinet holding twelve subjects. In regard to _Teniers, Gerard Dow, Mieris, Wouvermann,_ and _Cuyp_ ... you must look _at home_ for more exquisite specimens. This collection contains, in the whole, not fewer than FIFTEEN HUNDRED PAINTINGS: of which the greater portion consists of pictures of very large dimensions. I could have lived here for a month; but could only move along with the hurried step, and yet more hurrying eye, of an ordinary visitor[146]. About three English miles from the Great Belvedere--or rather about the same number of miles from Vienna, to the right, as you approach the Capital--is the famous palace of SCHÖNBRUNN. This is a sort of summer-residence of the Emperor; and it is here that his daughter, the ex-Empress of France, and the young Bonaparte usually reside. The latter never goes into Italy, when his mother, as Duchess of Parma, pays her annual visit to her principality. At this moment her Son is at Baden, with the court. It was in the Schönbrunn palace that his father, on the conquest of Vienna, used to take up his abode; rarely, venturing into the city. He was surely safe enough here; as every chamber and every court yard was filled by the élite of his guard--whether as officers or soldiers. It is a most magnificent pile of building: a truly imperial residence--but neither the furniture nor the objects of art, whether connected with sculpture or painting, are deserving of any thing in the shape of a _catalogue raisonné_. I saw the chamber where young Bonaparte frequently passes the day; and brandished his flag staff, and beat upon his drum. He is a soldier (as they tell me) every inch of him; and rides out, through the streets of Vienna, in a carriage of state drawn by four or six horses, receiving the _homages_ of the passing multitude. To return to the SCHÖNBRUNN PALACE. I have already told you that it is vast, and capable of accommodating the largest retinue of courtiers. It is of the _Gardens_ belonging to them, that I would now only wish to say a word. These gardens are really worthy of the residence to which they are attached. For what is called ornamental, formal, gardening--enriched by shrubs of rarity, and trees of magnificence--enlivened by fountains--adorned by sculpture--and diversified by vistos, lawns, and walks--interspersed with grottos and artificial ruins--you can conceive nothing upon a grander scale than these: while a menagerie in one place (where I saw a large but miserably wasted elephant)--a flower garden in another--a labyrinth in a third, and a solitude in a fourth place--each, in its turn; equally beguiles the hour and the walk. They are the most spacious gardens I ever witnessed. The preceding is all I can tell you, from actual observation, about the PALACES at Vienna. Those of the Noblesse, with the exception of that of Duke Albert, I have not visited; as I learn that the families are from home--and that the furniture is not arranged in the order in which one could wish it to be for the purpose of inspection or admiration. But I must not omit saying a word or two about the TREASURY--where the Court Jewels and Regalia are kept and where curious clocks and watches, of early Nuremburg manufacture, will not fail to strike and astonish the antiquary. But there are other objects, of a yet more powerful attraction: particularly a series of _crowns_ studded with gems and precious stones, from the time of Maximilian downwards. If I remember rightly, they shewed me here the crown which that famous Emperor himself wore. It is, comparatively, plain, ponderous, and massive. Among the more modern regal ornaments, I was shewn a precious diamond which fastened the cloak of the Emperor or Empress (I really forget which) on the day of coronation. It is large, oval-shaped, and, in particular points of view, seemed to flash a dazzling radiance throughout the room. It was therefore with a _refreshing_ sort of delight that I turned from "the wealth of either Ind" to feast upon a set of old china, upon which the drawings are said to have been furnished by the pencil of Raffaelle. I admit that this is a sort of _suspicious_ object of art: in other words, that, if all the old china, _said_ to be ornamented by the pencil of Raffaelle, were really the production of that great man, he could have done nothing else but paint upon baked earth from his cradle to his grave--and all the _oil paintings_ by him _must_ be spurious. The present, however, having been presented by the Pope, may be safely allowed to be genuine. In this suite of apartments--filled, from one extremity to the other, with all that is gay, and gorgeous, and precious, appertaining to royalty--I was particularly struck with the insignia of regality belonging to Bonaparte as King of Rome. It was a crown, sceptre, and robe--of which the two former were composed of metal, like brass--but of a form particularly chaste and elegant. There is great facility of access afforded for a sight of these valuable treasures, and I was surprised to find myself in a crowd of visitors at the outer door, who, upon gaining entrance, rushed forward in a sort of scrambling manner, and spread themselves in various directions about the apartment. Upon seeing one of the guides, I took him aside, and asked him in a quiet manner "what was done with all these treasures when the French visited their capital?" He replied quickly, and emphatically, "they were taken away, and safely lodged in the Emperor's Hungarian dominions." You may remember that the conclusion of my last letter left me just about to start to witness an entertainment called _Der Berggeist_, or the _Genius of the Mountain;_ and that, in the opening of this letter, I almost made boast of the gaiety of my evening amusements. In short, for a man fond of music--and in the country of GLUCK, MOZART and HAYDN--_not_ to visit the theatres, where a gratification of this sort, in all the perfection and variety of its powers, is held forth, might be considered a sort of heresy hardly to be pardoned. Accordingly, I have seen _Die Zauberflöte, Die Hochzeit des Figaro_, and _Don Giovanni:_ the two former quite enchantingly performed--but the latter greatly inferior to the representation of it at our own Opera House. The band, although less numerous than ours, seems to be perfect in every movement of the piece. You hear, throughout, a precision, clearness, and brilliancy of touch--together with a facility of execution, and fulness of instrumental tone--which almost impresses you with the conviction that the performers were _born_ musicians. The principal opera house, or rather that in which the principal singers are engaged, is near the palace, and is called _Im Theater nächst dem Kärnthnerthoc_. Here I saw the _Marriage of Figaro_ performed with great spirit and éclat. A young lady, a new performer of the name, of _Wranizth_, played Susannah in a style exquisitely naïve and effective. She was one of the most natural performers I ever saw; and her voice seemed to possess equal sweetness and compass. She is a rising favourite, and full of promise. Madame _Hönig_ played Mazelline rather heavily, and sung elaborately, but scientifically. The Germans are good natured creatures, and always prefer commendation to censure. Hence the plaudits with which these two rival syrens were received. The other, opera house, which is in the suburbs, and called _Schauspielhause_, is by much the larger and more commodious place of entertainment. I seized with avidity the first opportunity of seeing the _Zauberflöte_ here, and here also I saw Don Giovanni: the former as perfectly, in every respect, as the latter was inefficiently, performed. But here I saw the marvellous ballet, or afterpiece, called _Die Berggeist_; and I will tell you why I think it marvellous. It is entirely performed by children of all ages--from three to sixteen--with the exception of the venerable-bearded old gentleman, who is called the _Genius of the Mountain_. The author of the piece or ballet "von herrn Ballet-meister"--is _Friedrich Horschelt:_ who, if in such a department or vocation in society a man may be said (and why should he not?) to "deserve well of his country," is, I think, eminently entitled to that distinction. The truth is, that, all the little rogues (I do not speak literally) whom we saw before us upon the stage--and who amount to nearly one hundred and twenty in number--were absolutely beggar-children, and the offspring of beggars, or of the lowest possible classes in society. They earned a livelihood by the craft of asking alms. Mr. Horschelt conceived the plan of converting these hapless little vagabonds into members of some honest and useful calling. He saw an active little match girl trip across the street, and solicit alms in a very winning and even graceful manner--"that shall be my _columbine_," said he:--and she was so. A young lad of a sturdy form, and sluggish movement, is converted into a _clown_: a slim youth is made to personate _harlequin_--and thus he forms and puts into action the different characters of his entertainment... absolutely and exclusively out of the very lowest orders of society. To witness what these metamorphosed little creatures perform, is really to witness a miracle. Every thing they do is in consonance with a well-devised and well-executed plot. The whole is in harmony. They perform characters of different classes; sometimes allegorical, as præternatural beings--sometimes real, as rustics at one moment, and courtiers at another--but whether as fairies, or attendants upon goddesses--and whether the dance be formal or frolicksome--whether in groups of many, or in a pas de deux, or pas seul--they perform with surprising accuracy and effect. The principal performer, who had really been the little match girl above described, and who might have just turned her sixteenth year--would not have disgraced the boards of the Paris opera--at a moment, even, when Albert and Bigotini were engaged upon them. I never witnessed any thing more brilliant and more perfect than she was in all her evolutions and pirouettes. Nor are the lads behind hand in mettle and vigorous movement. One boy, about fourteen, almost divided the plaudits of the house with the fair nymph just mentioned--who, during the evening, had equally shone as a goddess, a queen, a fairy, and a columbine. The emperor of Austria, who is an excellent good man--and has really the moral welfare of his people at heart--was at first a little fearful about the _effect_ of this early metamorphosis of his subjects into actors and actresses; but he learnt, upon careful enquiry, that these children, when placed out in the world--as they generally are before seventeen, unless they absolutely prefer the profession in which they have been engaged--generally turn out to be worthy and good members of society. Their salaries are fixed and moderate, and thus superfluous wealth does not lead them into temptation. On the conclusion of the preceding piece, the stage was entirely filled by the whole juvenile _Corps Dramatique_--perhaps amounting to about one hundred and twenty in number. They were divided into classes, according to size, dress, and talent. After a succession of rapid evolutions, the whole group moved gently to the sound of soft music, while masses of purple tinted clouds descended, and alighted about them. Some were received into the clouds--which were then lifted up--and displayed groups of the smallest children upon their very summits, united by wreaths of roses; while the larger children remained below. The entire front of the stage, up to the very top, was occupied by the most extraordinary and most imposing sight I ever beheld--and as the clouds carried the whole of the children upwards, the curtain fell, and the piece concluded. On its conclusion, the audience were in a perfect frenzy of applause, and demanded the author to come forward and receive the meed of their admiration. He quickly obeyed their summons--and I was surprised, when I saw him, at the youthfulness of his appearance, the homeliness of his dress, and the simplicity of his manners. He thrice bowed to the audience, laying his hand the same number of times upon his heart. I am quite sure that, if he were to come to London, and institute the same kind of exhibition, he would entirely fill Drury Lane or Covent Garden--as I saw the _Schauspielhause_ filled--with parents and children from top to bottom. But a truce to _in-door_ recreations. You are longing, no doubt, to scent the evening breeze along the banks of the PRATER, or among the towering elms of the AUGARTEN--both public places of amusement within about a league of the ramparts of the city. It was the other Sunday evening when I visited the Prater, and when--as the weather happened to be very fine--it was considered to be full: but the absence of the court, and of the noblesse, necessarily gave a less joyous and splendid aspect to the carriages and their attendant liveries. In your way to this famous place of sabbath evening promenade, you pass a celebrated coffee house, in the suburbs, called the _Leopoldstadt_, which goes by the name of the _Greek coffee-house_--on account of its being almost entirely frequented by Greeks--so numerous at Vienna. Do not pass it, if you should ever come hither, without entering it--at least _once_. You would fancy yourself to be in Greece: so thoroughly characteristic are the countenances, dresses, and language of every one within. [Illustration: THE PRATER, VIENNA.] But yonder commences the procession ... of horse and foot: of cabriolets, family coaches, german waggons, cars, phaetons, and landaulets ... all moving in a measured manner, within their prescribed ranks, towards the PRATER. We must accompany them without loss of time. You now reach the Prater. It is an extensive flat, surrounded by branches of the Danube, and planted on each side with double rows of horse chesnut trees. The drive, in one straight line, is probably a league in length. It is divided by two roads, in one of which the company move _onward_, and in the other they _return_. Consequently, if you happen to find a hillock only a few feet high, you may, from thence, obtain a pretty good view of the interminable procession of the carriages before mentioned: one current of them, as it were, moving forward, and another rolling backward. But, hark!--the notes of a harp are heard to the left ... in a meadow, where the foot passengers often digress from the more formal tree-lined promenade. A press of ladies and gentlemen is quickly seen. You mingle involuntarily with them: and, looking forward, you observe a small stage erected, upon which a harper sits and two singers stand. The company now lie down upon the grass, or break into standing groups, or sit upon chairs hired for the occasion--to listen to the notes so boldly and so feelingly executed.[147] The clapping of hands, and exclamations of bravo! succeed: and the sounds of applause, however warmly bestowed, quickly die away in the open air. The performers bow: receive a few kreutschers ... retire; and are well satisfied. The sound of the trumpet is now heard behind you. Tilting feats are about to be performed: the coursers snort and are put in motion: their hides are bathed in sweat beneath their ponderous housings; and the blood, which flows freely from the pricks of their riders' spurs, shews you with what earnestness the whole affair is conducted. There, the ring is thrice carried off at the point of the lance. Feats of horsemanship follow in a covered building, to the right; and the juggler, conjurer, or magician, displays his dexterous feats, or exercises his potent spells ... in a little amphitheatre of trees, at a distance beyond. Here and there rise more stately edifices, as theatres ... from the doors of which a throng of heated spectators is pouring out, after having indulged their grief or joy at the Mary Stuart of Schiller, or the----of----.. In other directions, booths, stalls, and tables are fixed; where the hungry eat, the thirsty drink, and the merry-hearted indulge in potent libations. The waiters are in a constant state of locomotion. Rhenish wine sparkles here; confectionary glitters there; and fruit looks bright and tempting in a third place. No guest turns round to eye the company; because he is intent upon the luxuries which invite his immediate attention--or he is in close conversation with an intimate friend, or a beloved female. They talk and laugh,--and the present seems to be the happiest moment of their lives. All is gaiety and good humour. You return again to the foot-promenade, and look sharply about you, as you move onward, to catch the spark of beauty, or admire the costume of taste, or confess the power of expression. It is an Albanian female who walks yonder ... wondering, and asking questions, at every thing she sees. The proud Jewess, supported by her husband and father, moves in another direction. She is covered with brocade and flaunting ribbands; but she is abstracted from every thing around her ... because her eyes are cast downwards upon her stomacher, or sideways to obtain a glimse of what may be called her spangled epaulettes. Her eye is large and dark: her nose is aquiline: her complexion is of an olive brown: her stature is majestic, her dress is gorgeous, her gait is measured--and her demeanour is grave and composed. "She _must_ be very rich," you say--as she passes on. "She is _prodigiously_ rich," replies the friend, to whom you put the question:--for seven virgins, with nosegays of choicest flowers, held up her bridal train; and the like number of youths, with silver-hilted swords, and robes of ermine and satin, graced the same bridal ceremony. Her father thinks he can never do enough for her; and her husband, that he can never love her sufficiently. Whether she be happy or not, in consequence, we have no time to stop to enquire ... for, see yonder! three "turbaned Turks" make their advances. How gaily, how magnificently they are attired! What finely proportioned limbs--what beautifully formed features! They have been carousing, peradventure, with some young Greeks--who have just saluted them, en passant--at the famous coffee-house before-mentioned. Every thing around you is novel and striking; while the verdure of the trees and lawns is yet fresh, and the sun does not seem yet disposed to sink below the horizon. The carriages still move on, and return, in measured procession. Those who are within, look earnestly from the windows--to catch a glance of their passing friends. The fair hand is waved here; the curiously-painted fan is shaken there; and the repeated nod is seen in almost every other passing landaulet. Not a heart seems sad; not a brow appears to be clouded with care. Such--or something like the foregoing--is the scene which usually passes on a Sunday evening--perhaps six months out of the twelve--upon the famous PRATER at Vienna; while the tolling bell of St. Stephen's tower, about nine o'clock--and the groups of visitors hurrying back, to get home before the gates of the city are shut against them--usually conclude the scene just described. And now, my good friend, methinks I have given you a pretty fair account of the more prominent features of this city--in regard to its public sights; whether as connected with still or active life: as churches, palaces, or theatres. It remains, therefore, to return again, briefly, but yet willingly, to the subject of BOOKS; or rather, to the notice of two _Private Collections,_ especially deserving of description--and of which, the first is that of the EMPEROR HIMSELF. His Majesty's collection of Books and Prints is kept upon the second and third floors of a portion of the building connected with the great Imperial library. Mr. T. YOUNG is the librarian; and he also holds the honourable office of being Secretary of his Majesty's privy council. He is well deserving of both situations, for he fills them with ability and success. He has the perfect appearance of an Englishman, both in figure and face. As he speaks French readily and perfectly well, our interviews have been frequent, and our conversations such as have led me to think that we shall not easily forget each other. But for the library, of which he is the guardian. It is contained in three or four rooms of moderate dimensions, and has very much the appearance of an English Country Gentleman's collection of about 10,000 volumes. The bindings are generally in good taste: in full-gilt light and gray calf--with occasional folios and quartos resplendent in morocco and gold. I hardly know when I have seen a more cheerful and comfortable looking library; and was equally gratified to find such a copious sprinkling of publications from Old England. But my immediate, and indeed principal object, was, a list of a few of the _Rarities_ of the Emperor's private collection, as well in ms. as in print. Mr. Young placed before me much that was exquisite and interesting in the former, and splendid and creditable in the latter, department. He begged of me to judge with my own eyes, and determine for myself; and he would then supply me with a list of what he considered to be most valuable and splendid in the collection. Accordingly, what here ensues, must be considered as the united descriptions of my guide and myself:--Mr. Young having composed his memoranda in the Latin language. First, of the MANUSCRIPTS. The _Gospels;_ a vellum folio:--with illuminated capitals, and thirteen larger paintings, supposed to be of the thirteenth--but I suspect rather of the fourteenth--century. A _Breviary ... "for the use of Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy_" This vellum MS. is of the fifteenth century, and was executed for the distinguished character to whom it is expressly dedicated. This is really an elegant volume: written in the gothic character of the period, and sprinkled with marginal and capital initial decorations. Here are--as usual in works of this kind, executed for princes and great men--divers illuminations of figures of saints, of which there are three of larger size than the rest: and, of these three, one is eminently interesting, as exhibiting a small portrait of DUKE CHARLES himself, kneeling before his tutelary saint. Here is an exceedingly pretty octavo volume of _Hours,_ of the fifteenth century, fresh and sparkling in its illuminations, with marginal decorations of flowers, monsters, and capriccios. It is in the binding of the time--the wood, covered with gilt ornaments. _Office of the Virgin:_ a neat vellum MS. of the fourteenth century--with ornamented capital initials and margins, and about two dozen of larger illuminations. But the chief attraction of this MS. arises from the text having been written by four of the most celebrated Princesses of the House of Austria, whose names are inscribed in the first fly leaf. Here is a "_Boccace des Cas des Nobles_" by Laurent Premier Fait--which is indeed every where. Nor must a sprinkle of _Roman Classics_ be omitted to be noticed, however briefly. A _Celsus, Portions of Livy,_ the _Metamorphosis of Ovid_, _Seneca's Tragedies_, the _Æneid of Virgil_, and _Juvenal_: none, I think, of a later period than the beginning or middle of the fifteenth century--just before the invention of printing. Among the MSS. of a miscellaneous class, are two which I was well pleased to examine: namely, the _Funerailles des Reines de France_, in folio--adorned with eleven large illuminations of royal funerals--and a work entitled _Mayni Jasonis Juris consulti Eq. Rom. Cæs., &c, Epitalamion, in_ 4to. The latter MS. is, in short, an epithalamium upon the marriage of Maximilian the Great and Blanche Maria, composed by M. Jaso, who was a ducal senator, and attached to the embassy which returned with the destined bride for Maximilian. What is its _chief_ ornament, in my estimation, are two sweetly executed small portraits of the royal husband and his consort. I was earnest to have fac-similes of them; and Mr. Young gave me the strongest assurances that my wishes should be attended to.[148] Thus much; or perhaps thus little, for the MSS. Still more brief must be my account of the PRINTED BOOKS: and first for a fifteener or two. It is an edition of _Dio Chrysostom de Regno_, without date, or name of printer, in 4to.; but most decidedly executed (as I told Mr. Young) by _Valdarfer_. What renders this copy exceedingly precious is, that it is printed UPON VELLUM; and is, I think, the only known copy so executed. It is in beautiful condition. Here is a pretty volume of _Hours_, in Latin, with a French metrical version, printed in the fifteenth century, without date, and struck off UPON VELLUM. It has wood-cuts, which are coloured of the time. From a copy of ms. verses, at the beginning of the volume, we learn that "the author of this metrical version was _Peter Gringore,_ commonly called _Vaudemont_, herald at arms to the Duke of Lorraine; who dedicated and brought this very copy to _Renatus of Bourbon_." I was much struck with a magnificent folio _Missal_, printed at Venice by that skilful typographical artist _I.H. de Landoia,_ in 1488--UPON VELLUM: with the cuts coloured.[149] A few small vellum _Hours_ by _Vostre_ and Vivian are sufficiently pretty. In the class of books printed upon vellum, and continuing with the sixteenth century, I must not fail to commence with the notice of two copies of the _Tewrdannckh_, each of the date of 1517, and each UPON VELLUM. One is coloured, and the other not coloured. Mr. Young describes the former in the following animated language: "Exemplar omnibus numeris absolutum, optimeque servatum. Præstantissimum, rarissimumque tum typographicæ, tum xylographicæ artis, monumentum." _Lucani Pharsalia,_ 1811. Folio. Printed by Degen. A beautiful copy, of a magnificent book, UPON VELLUM; illustrated by ten copper plates. _M.C. Frontonis Opera: edidit Maius Mediol_. 1815. 4to. An unique copy; upon vellum. _Flore Medicale decrite par Chaumeton & peinte par Mme. E. Panckoucke & I.F. Turpin. Paris,_ 1814. Supposed to be unique, as a vellum copy; with the original drawings, and the cuts printed in bistre. Here is also a magnificent work, called "_Omaggio delle Provincie Venetæ_" upon the nuptials of the present Emperor and Empress of Austria. It consists of seventeen copper-plates, printed upon vellum, and preserved in two cases, covered with beautiful ornaments and figures, in worked gold and silver, &c. Of this magnificent production of art, there were two copies only printed upon vellum, and this is one of them. Up stairs, on the third floor, is kept his Majesty's COLLECTION of ENGRAVED PORTRAITS--which amount, as Mr. Young informed me, to not fewer than 120,000 in number. They commence with the earliest series, from the old German and Italian masters, and descend regularly to our own times. Of course such a collection contains very much that is exquisite and rare in the series of _British Portraits_. Mr. Young is an Italian by birth; but has been nurtured, from earliest youth, in the Austrian dominions. He is a man of strong cultivated parts, and so fond of the literature of the "_Zodiacus Vitæ_" of _Marcellus Palingenius_--translated by our _Barnabe Googe_: of the editions of which translation he was very desirous that I should procure him a copious and correct list. But it is the gentle and obliging manners--the frank and open-hearted conversation--and, above all, the high-minded devotedness to his Royal master and to his interests, that attach, and ever will attach, Mr. Young to me--by ties of no easily dissoluble nature. We have parted ... perhaps never to meet again; but he may rest assured that the recollection of his kindnesses ("Semper honos nomenque," &c.) will never be obliterated from my memory.[150] Scarcely a stone's throw from the Imperial Library, is the noble mansion of the venerable DUKE ALBERT of _Saxe-Teschen:_ the husband of the lady to whose memory Canova has erected the proudest trophy of his art. This amiable and accomplished nobleman has turned his eightieth year; and is most liberal and kind in the display of all the treasures which belong to him.[151] These "treasures" are of a first-rate character; both as to _Drawings_ and _Prints_. He has no rival in the _former_ department, and even surpasses the Emperor in the latter. I visited and examined his collection (necessarily in a superficial manner) twice; paying only particular attention to the drawings of the Italian school--including those of Claude Lorraine. I do not know what is in our _own_ royal collection, but I may safely say that our friend Mr. Ottley has some finer _Michel Angelos and Raffaelles_--and the Duke of Devonshire towers, beyond all competition, in the possession of _Claude Lorraines_. Yet you are to know that the drawings of Duke Albert amount to nearly 12,000 in number. They are admirably well arranged--in a large, light room--overlooking the ramparts. Having so recently examined the productions of the earlier masters in the German school, at Munich--but more particularly in Prince Eugene's collection of prints, in the Imperial Library here--I did not care to look after those specimens of the same masters which were in the port folios of the Duke Albert. The _Albert Durer_ drawings, however, excited my attention, and extorted the warmest commendation. It is quite delightful to learn (for so M. Bartsch told me--the Duke himself being just now at Baden) that this dignified and truly respectable old man, yet takes delight in the treasures of his own incomparable collection. "Whenever I visit him (said my "fidus Achates" M.B.) he begs me to take a chair and sit beside him; and is anxious to obtain intelligence of any thing curious, or rare, or beautiful, which may add to the worth of his collection." It is now high time, methinks, to take leave not only of public and private collections of books, but of almost every thing else in Vienna. Yet I must add a word connected with literature and the fine arts. As to the former, it seems to sleep soundly. Few or no literary societies are encouraged, few public discussions are tolerated, and the capital of the empire is without either _reviews_ or _institutions_--which can bear the least comparison with our own. The library of the University is said, however, to hold fourscore thousand volumes. Few critical works are published there; and for _one_ Greek or Roman classic put forth at Vienna, they have _half_ a _score_ at Leipsic, Franckfort, Leyden, and Strasbourg. But in Oriental literature, M. Hammer is a tower of strength, and justly considered to be the pride of his country. The Academy of Painting is here a mere shadow of a shade. In the fine arts, Munich is as six to one beyond Vienna. A torpidity, amounting to infatuation, seems to possess those public men who have influence both on the councils and prosperity of their country. When the impulse for talent, furnished by the antique gems belonging to the Imperial collection,[152] is considered, it is surprising how little has been accomplished at Vienna for the last century. M. Bartsch is, however, a proud exception to any reproach arising from the want of indigenous talent. His name and performances alone are a host against such captious imputations.[153] There wants only a few wiser heads, and more active spirits, in some of the upper circles of society, and Vienna might produce graphic works as splendid as they would be permanent. We will now leave the city for the country, or rather for the immediate neighbourhood of Vienna; and then, having, I think, sent you a good long Vienna despatch, must hasten to take leave--not only of yourself, but of this metropolis. Whether I shall again write to you before I cross the Rhine on my return home--is quite uncertain. Let me therefore make the most of the present: which indeed is of a most unconscionable length. Turn, for one moment, to the opening of it--and note, there, some mention made of certain monasteries--one of which is situated at CLOSTERNEUBURG, the other in the suburbs. I will first take you to the former--a pleasant drive of about nine miles from hence. Mr. Lewis, myself, and our attendant Rohfritsch, hired a pair of horses for the day; and an hour and a half brought us to a good inn, or Restaurateur's immediately opposite the monastery in question. In our route thither, the Danube continued in sight all the way--which rendered the drive very pleasant. The river may be the best part of a mile broad, near the monastery. The sight of the building in question was not very imposing, after those which I had seen in my route to Vienna. The monastery is, in fact, an incomplete edifice; but the foundations of the building are of an ancient date.[154] Having postponed our dinner to a comparatively late hour, I entered, as usual, upon the business of the monastic visit. The court-yard, or quadrangle, had a mean appearance; but I saw enough of architectural splendour to convince me that, if this monastery had been completed according to the original design, it would have ranked among the noblest in Austria. On obtaining admission, I enquired for the librarian, but was told that he had not yet (two o'clock) risen from dinner. I apologised for the intrusion, and begged respectfully to be allowed to wait till he should be disposed to leave the dining-room. The attendant, however, would admit of no such arrangement; for he instantly disappeared, and returned with a monk, habited in the _Augustine_ garb, with a grave aspect and measured step. He might be somewhere about forty years of age. As he did not understand a word of French, it became necessary again to brush up my Latin. He begged I would follow him up stairs, and in the way to the library, would not allow me to utter one word further in apology for my supposed rudeness in bringing him thus abruptly from his "symposium." A more good natured man seemingly never opened his lips. Having reached the library, the first thing he placed before me--as the boast and triumph of their establishment--was, a large paper copy (in quarto) of an edition of the _Hebrew Bible_, edited by I. Hahn, one of their fraternity, and published in 1806, 4 vols.[155] This was accomplished under the patronage of the Head of the Monastery, _Gaudentius Dunkler_: who was at the sole expense of the paper and of procuring new Hebrew types. I threw my eye over the dedication to the President, by Hahn, and saw the former with pleasure recognised as the MODERN XIMENES. Having thanked the librarian for a sight of these volumes--of which there is an impression in an octavo and cheap form, "for the use of youth"--I begged that I might have a sight of the _Incunabula Typographica_ of which I had heard a high character. He smiled, and said that a few minutes would suffice to undeceive me in this particular. Whereupon he placed before me ... such a set of genuine, unsoiled, uncropt, _undoctored_, ponderous folio tomes ... as verily caused my eyes to sparkle, and my heart to leap! They were, upon the whole---and for their number--_such_ copies as I had never before seen. You have here a very accurate account of them--taken, with the said copies "oculis subjectis." _St. Austin de Civitate Dei_, 1467. _Folio_. A very large and sound copy, in the original binding of wood; but not free from a good deal of ms. annotation. _Mentelin's German Bible_; somewhat cropt, and in its second binding, but sound and perfect. _Supposed first German Bible_: a large and fine copy, in its first binding of wood. _Apuleius_, 1469. Folio. The largest and finest copy which, I think, I ever beheld--with the exception of some slight worm holes at the end. _Livius_, 1470. Folio. 2 vols. _Printed by V. de Spira._ In the original binding. When I say that this copy appears to be full as fine as that in the collection of Mr. Grenville, I bestow upon it the highest possible commendation. _Plutarchi Vit. Parall._ 2 vol. Folio. In the well known peculiarly shaped letter R. This copy, in one magnificent folio volume, is the largest and finest I ever saw: but--eheu! a few leaves are wanting at the end. _Polybius. Lat._ 1473. Folio. The printers are Sweynheym and Pannartz. A large, fine copy; in the original binding of wood: but four leaves at the end, with a strong foxy tint at top, are worm-eaten in the middle. Let me pursue this _amusing_ strain; for I have rarely, within so small a space--in any monastic library I have hitherto visited--found such a sprinkling of classical volumes. _Plinius Senior_, 1472. Folio. Printed by Jenson. A prodigiously fine, large copy. A ms. note, prefixed, says: "_hunc librum comparuit Jacobus Pemperl pro viij t d. an [14]88," &c. Xenophontis Cyropædia_. Lat. _Curante Philelpho_. With the date of the translation, 1467. A very fine copy of a well printed book. _Mammotrectus_, 1470. Folio. Printed by Schoeffher. A fine, white, tall copy; in its original wooden binding. _Sti. Jeronimi Epistolæ_. 1470. Folio. Printed by Sweynheym and Pannartz. In one volume: for size and condition probably unrivalled. In its first binding of wood. _Gratiani Decretales_. 1472. Folio. Printed by Schoeffher. UPON VELLUM: in one enormous folio volume, and in an unrivalled state of perfection. Perhaps, upon the whole, the finest vellum Schoeffher in existence. It is in its original binding, but some of the leaves are loose. _Opus Consiliorum I. de Calderi_. 1472. Idem Opus: _Anthonii de Burtrio_. 1472. Folio. Each work printed by _Adam Rot, Metensis_: a rare printer, but of whose performances I have now seen a good number of specimens. These works are in one volume, and the present is a fine sound copy. _Petri Lombardi Quat. Lib. Sentent_. Folio. This book is without name of printer or date; but I should conjecture it to be executed in Eggesteyn's largest gothic character, and, from a ms. memorandum at the end, we are quite sure that the book was printed in 1471 at latest. The memorandum is as follows: "_Iste liber est magistri Leonardi Fruman de Hyersaw_, 1471." Such appeared to me to be the choicer, and more to be desiderated, volumes in the monastic library of Closterneuberg--which a visit of about a couple of hours only enabled me to examine. I say "_desiderated_"--my good friend--because, on returning home, I revolved within myself what might be done with propriety towards the _possession_ of them.[156] Having thanked the worthy librarian, and expressed the very great satisfaction afforded me by a sight of the books in question--which had fully answered the high character given of them--I returned to the auberge--dined with an increased appetite in consequence of such a sight--and, picking up a "white stone," as a lucky omen, being at the very extent of my _Bibliographical_, _Antiquarian_, and _Picturesque Tour_--returned to Vienna, to a late cup of tea; well satisfied, in every respect, with this most agreeable excursion. There now remains but one more subject to be noticed--and, then, farewell to this city--and hie for Manheim, Paris, and Old England! That one subject is again connected with old books and an old Monastery ... which indeed the opening of this letter leads you to anticipate. In that part of the vast suburbs of Vienna which faces the north, and which is called the ROSSAU--there stands a church and a _Capuchin convent_, of some two centuries antiquity: the latter, now far gone to decay both in the building and revenues. The outer gate of the convent was opened--as at the Capuchin convent which contains the imperial sepulchres--by a man with a long, bushy, and wiry beard ... who could not speak one word of French. I was alone, and a hackney coach had conveyed me thither. What was to be done. "_Bibliothecam hujusce Monasterii valdè videre cupio--licetne Domine?"_ The monk answered my interrogatory with a sonorous "_imo_:" and the gates closing upon us, I found myself in the cloisters--where my attendant left me, to seek the Principal and librarian. In two minutes, I observed a couple of portly Capuchins, pacing the pavement of the cloister, and approaching me with rather a hurried step. On meeting, they saluted me formally--and assuming a cheerful air, begged to conduct me to the library. We were quickly within a room, of very moderate dimensions, divided into two compartments, of which the shelves were literally thronged and crammed with books, lying in all directions, and completely covered with dust. It was impossible to make a selection from such an indigested farrago: but the backs happening to be lettered, this afforded me considerable facility. I was told that the "WHOLE LIBRARY WAS AT MY DISPOSAL!"--which intelligence surprised and somewhat staggered me. The monks seemed to enjoy my expression of astonishment. I went to work quickly; and after upwards of an hour's severe rummaging, among uninteresting folios and quartos of medicine, canon-law, scholastic metaphysics, and dry comments upon the decretals of Popes Boniface and Gratian--it was rather from courtesy, than complete satisfaction, that I pitched upon a few ... of a miscellaneous description--begging to have the account, for which the money should be immediately forthcoming. They replied that my wishes should be instantly attended to--but that it would be necessary to consult together to reconsider the prices--and that a porter should be at the hotel of the _Crown of Hungary_, with the volumes selected--to await my final decision. As a _book-bill_ sent from a monastery, and written in the Latin language, may be considered _unique_ in our country--and a curiosity among the _Roxburghers _--I venture to send you a transcript of it: premising, that I retained the books, and paid down the money: somewhere about _6l. 16s. 6d_. You will necessarily smile at the epithets bestowed upon your friend. Plurimum Reverende, ac Venerande Domine! Mitto cum hisce, quos tibi seligere placuit, libros, eosdemque hic breviter describo, addito pretio, quo nobis conventum est; et quidem ex catalogo desumptos: Florins. Missale Rom. pro Pataviensis Ecclæ ritu. 1494 5 Missa defunctorum. 1499 3 Val. Martialis Epigrammatum opus. 1475 25 Xenophontis Apologia Socratis 3 Epulario &c. 1 De Conceptu et triplici Mariæ V. Candore 1 ac demum Trithemii Annales Hirsaug. et Aristotelis opera Edit. Sylburgii 35 ----- 73 Quæ cuncta Tibi optime convenire, Teque valere perpetim precor et opto. P. JOAN. SARCANDER MRA. _Ord. Serv. B.M.V._ This is the last _bibliomaniacal_ transaction in which I am likely to be engaged at Vienna; for, within thirty-six hours from hence, the post horses will be in the archway of this hotel, with their heads turned towards Old England. In that direction my face will be also turned ... for the next month or five weeks to come; being resolved upon spending the best part of a fortnight of those five weeks, at _Ratisbon_, _Nuremberg_, and _Manheim_. You may therefore expect to hear from me again--certainly for the _last_ time--at Manheim, just before crossing the Rhine for Chalons sur Marne, Metz, and Paris. I shall necessarily have but little leisure on the road--for a journey of full 500 miles is to be encountered before I reach the hither bank of the Rhine at Manheim. Farewell then to VIENNA:--a long, and perhaps final farewell! If I have arrived at a moment when this capital is comparatively thinned of its population, and bereft of its courtly splendors--and if this city may be said to be _now_ dull, compared with what its _winter_ gaieties will render it--I shall nevertheless not have visited it IN VAIN. Books, whether as MSS. or printed volumes, have been inspected by me with an earnestness and profitable result--not exceeded by any previous similar application: while the company of men of worth, of talents, and of kindred tastes, has rendered my social happiness complete. The best of hearts, and the friendliest of dispositions, are surely to be found in the capital of Austria. Farewell. It is almost the hour of midnight--and not a single note of the harp or violin is to be heard in the streets. The moon shines softly and sweetly. God bless you. [134] In Hartman Schedel's time, these suburbs seem to have been equally distinguished. "Habet (says he, speaking of Vienna) SUBURBIA MAXIMA et AMBICIOSA." _Chron. Norimb._ 1493. fol. xcviii. rev. [135] Schedel's general description of the city of Vienna, which is equally brief and spirited, may deserve to be quoted. "VIENNA autem urbs magnifica ambitu murorum cingitur duorum millium passuum: habet fossa et vallo cincta: urbs autem fossatum magnum habet: undique aggerem prealtum: menia deinde spissa et sublimia frequentesque turres; et propugnacula ad bellum prompta. Ædes civium amplae et ornatae: structura solida et firma, altæ domorum facies magnificaeque visuntur. Unum id dedecori est, quod tecta plerumque ligna contegunt pauca lateres. Cetera edificia muro lapideo consistunt. Pictæ domus, et interius et exterius splendent. Ingressus cuiusque domum in ædes te principis venisse putabis." _Ibid._ This is not an exaggerated description. A little below, Schedel says "there is a monastery, called St. Jerome, (much after the fashion of our _Magdalen_) in which reformed Prostitutes are kept; and where, day and night, they sing hymns in the Teutonic dialect. If any of them are found relapsing into their former sinful ways, they are thrown headlong into the Danube." "But (adds he) they lead, on the contrary, a chaste and holy life." [136] I suspect that the houses opposite the Palace are of comparatively recent construction. In _Pfeffel's Viva et Accurata Delineatio_ of the palaces and public buildings of Vienna, 1725 (oblong folio,) the palace faces a wide place or square. Eighteen sculptured human figures, apparently of the size of life, there grace the topmost ballustrade in the copper-plate view of this truly magnificent residence. [137] [Recently however the number of _Restaurateurs_ has become considerable.] [138] In Hartmann Schedel's time, there appears to have been a very considerable traffic in wine at Vienna: "It is incredible (says he) what a brisk trade is stirring in the article of wine,[139] in this city. Twelve hundred horses are daily employed for the purposes of draught--either for the wine drank at Vienna, or sent up the Danube--against the stream--with amazing labour and difficulty. It is said that the wine cellars are frequently as deep _below_ the earth, as the houses are _above_ it." Schedel goes on to describe the general appearance of the streets, and the neatness of the interiors, of the houses: adding, "that the windows are generally filled with stained glass, having iron-gratings without, where numerous birds sing in cages. The winter (remarks he) sets in here very severely." _Chron. Norimb_. 1493, fol. xcix. [139] The vintage about Vienna should seem to have been equally abundant a century after the above was written. In the year 1590, when a severe shock of earthquake threatened destruction to the tower of the Cathedral--and it was absolutely necessary to set about immediate repairs--the _liquid_ which was applied to make the most astringent _mortar_, was WINE: "l'on se servit de _vin,_ qui fut alors en abondance, pour faire le _plâtre_ de cette batise." _Denkmahle der Baukunst und Bildneren des Mittelalters in dem Oesterreichischen Kaiserthume_. Germ. Fr. Part iii. p. 36. 1817-20. [140] There is a good sized (folded) view of the church, or rather chiefly of the south front of the spire, in the "_Vera et Accurata Delineatio Omnium Templorum et Cænobiorum_" of Vienna, published by Pfeffel in the year 1724, oblong folio. [141] This head has been published as the first plate in the third livraison of the ECCLESIASTICAL ANTIQUITIES of Vienna--accompanied by French and German letter-press. I have no hesitation in saying that, without the least national bias or individual partiality, the performance of Mr. Lewis--although much smaller, is by far the most _faithful_; nor is the engraving less superior, than the drawing, to the production of the Vienna artist. This latter is indeed faithless in design and coarse in execution. Beneath the head, in the original sculpture, and in the latter plate, we read the inscription M.A.P. 1313. It is no doubt an interesting specimen of sculpture of the period. [142] Vol. ii. p. 312-313. [143] There is a large print of it (which I saw at Vienna) in the line manner, but very indifferently executed. But of the last, detached group, above described, there is a very fine print in the line manner. [144] See p. 245 ante. [145] As in that of the _Feast of Venus in the island of Cythera_: about eleven feet by seven. There is also another, of himself, in the Garden of Love--with his two wives--in the peculiarly powerful and voluptuous style of his pencil. The picture is about four feet long. His portrait of one of his wives, of the size of life, habited only in an ermine cloak at the back (of which the print is well known) is an extraordinary production ... as to colour and effect. [146] I am not sure whether any publication, connected with this extraordinary collection, has appeared since _Chrétien de Mechel's Catalogue des Tableaux de la Galerie Impériale et Royale de Vienne_; 1784, 8vo.: which contains, at the end, four folded copper-plates of the front elevations and ground plans of the Great and Little Belvederes. He divides his work into the _Venetian, Roman, Florentine, Bolognese_, and _Ancient and Modern Flemish Schools_: according to the different chambers or apartments. This catalogue is a mere straight-forward performance; presenting a formal description of the pictures, as to size and subject, but rarely indulging in warmth of commendation, and never in curious and learned research. The preface, from which I have gleaned the particulars of the History of the Collection, is sufficiently interesting. My friend M. Bartsch, if leisure and encouragement were afforded him, might produce a magnificent and instructive work--devoted to this very extraordinary collection. (Upon whom, NOW, shall this task devolve?!) [147] See the OPPOSITE PLATE. [148] The truth is, not only fac-similes of these illuminations, but of the initial L, so warmly mentioned at page 292, were executed by M. Fendi, under the direction of my friend M. Bartsch, and dispatched to me from Vienna in the month of June 1820--but were lost on the road. [149] Lord Spencer has recently obtained a copy of this exquisitely printed book from the M'Carthy collection. See the _Ædes Althorpianæ;_ vol. ii. p. 192. [150] [I annex, with no common gratification, a fac-simile of the Autograph of this most worthy man, [Illustration]] [151] He has (_now_) been _dead_ several years. [152] ECKHEL'S work upon these gems, in 1788, folio, is well known. The apotheosis of Augustus, in this collection, is considered as an unrivalled specimen of art, upon sardonyx. I regretted much not to have seen these gems, but the floor of the room in which they are preserved was taken up, and the keeper from home. [153] It will be only necessary to mention--for the establishment of this fact--the ENGRAVED WORKS alone of M. Bartsch, from masters of every period, and of every school, amounting to 505 in number: an almost incredible effort, when we consider that their author has scarcely yet passed his grand climacteric. His _Peintre Graveur_ is a literary performance, in the graphic department, of really solid merit and utility. The record of the achievements of M. Bartsch has been perfected by the most affectionate and grateful of all hands--those of his son, _Frederic de Bartsch_--in an octavo volume, which bears the following title, and which has the portrait (but not a striking resemblance) of the father prefixed:--"_Catalogue des Estampes de_ J. ADAM de BARTSCH, _Chevalier de l'Ordre de Léopold, Conseiller aulique et Premier Garde de la Bibl. Imp. et Roy. de la Cour, Membre de l'Academie des Beaux Arts de Vienne_." 1818. 8vo. pp. 165. There is a modest and sensible preface by the son--in which we are informed that the catalogue was not originally compiled for the purpose of making it public. The following is a fac-simile of the Autograph of this celebrated graphical Critic and Artist. [Illustration] [154] The MONASTERY of CLOSTERNEUBURG, or Nevenburg, or Nuenburg, or Newburg, or Neunburg--is supposed to have been built by Leopold the Pious in the year 1114. It was of the order of St. Augustin. They possess (at the monastery, it should seem) a very valuable chronicle, of the XIIth century, upon vellum--devoted to the history of the establishment; but unluckily defective at the beginning and end. It is supposed to have been written by the head of the monastery, for the time being. It is continued by a contemporaneous hand, down to the middle of the fourteenth century. They preserve also, at Closterneuburg, a Necrology--of five hundred years--down to the year 1721. "Inter cæteros præstantes veteres codices manuscriptos, quos INSIGNIS BIBLIOTHECA CLAUSTRO-NEOBURGENSIS servat, est pervetus inclytæ ejusdem canoniæ Necrologium, ante annos quingentos in membranis elegantissimè manu exaratum, et a posteriorum temporum auctoribus continuatum." _Script. Rer. Austriacar. Cura Pez._ 1721. vol. 1. col. 435, 494. [155] The librarian, MAXIMILIAN FISCHER, informed me the quarto copies were rare, for that only 400 were printed. The octavo copies are not so, but they do not contain all the marginal references which are in the quarto impressions. [156] In fact, I wrote a letter to the librarian, the day after my visit, proposing to give 2000 florins in specie for the volumes above described. My request was answered by the following polite, and certainly most discreet and commendable reply: "D....Domine! Litteris a Te 15. Sept. scriptis et 16 Sept. a me receptis, de Tuo desiderio nonnullos bibliothecæ nostræ libros pro pecunia acquirendi, me certiorem reddidisti; ast mihi respondendum venit, quod tuis votis obtemperare non possim. Copia horum librorum ad cimelium bibliothecæ Claustroneoburgensis merito refertur, et maxima sunt in æstimatione apud omnes confratres meos; porro, lege civili cautum est, ne libri et res rariores Abbatiarum divenderentur. Si unum aliumve horum, ceu duplicatum, invenissem, pro æquissimo pretio in signum venerationis transmisissem. "Ad alia, si præstare possem, officia, me paratissimum invenies, simulque Te obsecro, me æstimatorem tui sincerrimum reputes, hinc me in ulteriorem recordationem commendo, ac dignum me æstimes quod nominare me possem, ... dominationis Tuæ _E Canonia Claustroneoburgensi_, addictissimum 17 _Septbr_ 1818. MAXIMILIANUM FISCHER. Can. reg. Bibliothec. et Archivar." _Supplement_. RATISBON, NUREMBERG, MANHEIM. _Supplement_. Having found it impracticable to write to my friend--on the route from Vienna to Paris, and from thence to London--the reader is here presented with a few SUPPLEMENTAL PARTICULARS with which that route furnished me; and which, I presume to think, will not be considered either misplaced or uninteresting. They are arranged quite in the manner of MEMORANDA, or heads: not unaccompanied with a regret that the limits of this work forbid a more extended detail. I shall immediately, therefore, conduct the reader from Vienna to RATISBON. I left VIENNA, with my travelling companion, within two days after writing the last letter, dated from that place--upon a beautiful September morning. But ere we had reached _St. Pölten_, the face of the heavens was changed, and heavy rain accompanied us till we got to Mölk, where we slept: not however before I had written a note to the worthy _Benedictine Fraternity_ at the monastery--professing my intention of breakfasting with them the next morning. This self-invitation was joyfully accepted, and the valet, who returned with the written answer, told me that it was a high day of feasting and merry-making at the monastery--and that he had left the worthy Monks in the plenitude of their social banquet. We were much gratified the next morning, not only by the choice and excellence of the breakfast, but by the friendliness of our reception. So simple are manners here, that, in going up the hill, towards the monastery, we met the worthy Vice Principal, Pallas, habited in his black gown--returning from a baker's shop, where he had been to bespeak the best bread. I was glad to renew my acquaintance with the Abbé Strattman, and again solicited permission for Mr. Lewis to take the portrait of so eminent a bibliographer. But in vain: the Abbé answering, with rather a melancholy and mysterious air, that "the world was lost to him, and himself to the world." We parted--with pain on both sides; and on the same evening slept, where we had stopt in our route to Vienna, at _Lintz_. The next morning (Sunday) we started betimes to breakfast at _Efferding_. Our route lay chiefly along the banks of the Danube ... under hanging woods on one side, with villages and villas on the other. The fog hung heavily about us; and we could catch but partial and unsatisfactory glimpses of that scenery, which, when lightened by a warm sunshine, must be perfectly romantic. At Efferding our carriage and luggage were examined, while we breakfasted. The day now brightened up, and nothing but sunshine and "the song of earliest birds" accompanied us to _Sigharding_,--the next post town. Hence to _Scharding_, where we dined, and to _Fürsternell_, where we supped and slept. The inn was crowded by country people below, but we got excellent quarters in the attics; and were regaled with peaches, after supper, which might have vied with those out of the Imperial garden at Vienna. We arose betimes, and breakfasted at _Vilshofen_--and having lost sight of the Danube, since we left Efferding, we were here glad to come again in view of it: and especially to find it accompany us a good hundred miles of our route, till we reached _Ratisbon_. _Straubing_, where we dined--and which is within two posts of Ratisbon--is a very considerable town. The Danube washes parts of its suburbs. As the day was uncommonly serene and mild, even to occasional sultriness, and as we were in excellent time for reaching Ratisbon that evening, we devoted an hour or two to rambling in this town. Mr. Lewis made sketches, and I strolled into churches, and made enquiries after booksellers shops, and possessors of old books: but with very little success. A fine hard road, as level as a bowling green, carries you within an hour to _Pfätter_--the post town between Straubing and Ratisbon--and almost twice that distance brings you to the latter place. It was dark when we entered Ratisbon, and having been recommended to the hotel of the _Agneau Blanc_ we drove thither, and alighted ... close to the very banks of the Danube--and heard the roar of its rapid stream, turning several mills, close as it were to our very ears. The master of the hotel, whose name is _Cramer_, and who talked French very readily, received us with peculiar courtesy; and, on demanding the best situated room in the house, we were conducted on the second floor, to the chamber which had been occupied, only two or three days before, by the Emperor of Austria himself, on his way to _Aix-la-Chapelle_. The next morning was a morning of wonder to us. Our sitting-room, which was a very lantern, from the number of windows, gave us a view of the rushing stream of the Danube, of a portion of the bridge over it, of some beautifully undulating and vine-covered hills, in the distance, on the opposite side--and, lower down the stream, of the town-walls and water-mills, of which latter we had heard the stunning sounds on our arrival.[157] The whole had a singularly novel and pleasing appearance. But if the sitting room was thus productive of gratification, the very first walk I took in the streets was productive of still greater. On leaving the inn, and turning to the left, up a narrow street, I came in view of a house ... upon the walls of which were painted, full three hundred years ago, the figures of _Goliath and David_. The former could be scarcely less than twenty feet high: the latter, who was probably about one-third of that height, was represented as if about to cast the stone from the sling. The costume of Goliath marked the period when he was thus represented;[158] and I must say, considering the time that has elapsed since that representation, that he is yet a fine, vigorous, and fresh-looking fellow. I continued onwards, now to the right, and afterwards to the left, without knowing a single step of the route. An old, but short square gothic tower--upon one of the four sides of which was a curious old clock, supported by human figures--immediately caught my attention. The _Town Hall_ was large and imposing; but the _Cathedral_, surrounded by booths--it being fair-time--was, of course, the great object of my attention. In short, I saw enough within an hour to convince me, that I was visiting a large, curious, and well-peopled town; replete with antiquities, and including several of the time of the Romans, to whom it was necessarily a very important station. Ratisbon is said to contain a population of about 20,000 souls. The Cathedral can boast of little antiquity. It is almost a building of yesterday; yet it is large, richly ornamented on the outside, especially on the west, between the towers--and is considered one of the noblest structures of the kind in Bavaria.[159] The interior wants that decisive effect which simplicity produces. It is too much broken into parts, and covered with monuments of a very heterogeneous description. Near it I traced the cloisters of an old convent or monastery of some kind, now demolished, which could not be less than five hundred years old. The streets of Ratisbon are generally picturesque, as well from their undulating forms, as from the antiquity of a great number of the houses. The modern parts of the town are handsome, and there is a pleasant inter-mixture of trees and grass plats in some of these more recent portions. There are some pleasing public walks, after the English fashion; and a public garden, where a colossal sphinx, erected by the late philosopher _Gleichen_, has a very imposing appearance. Here is also an obelisk erected to the memory of Gleichen himself, the founder of these gardens; and a monument to the memory of Keplar, the astronomer; which latter was luckily spared in the assault of this town by the French in 1809. But these are, comparatively, every day objects. A much more interesting source of observation, to my mind, were the very few existing relics of the once celebrated monastery of ST. EMMERAM--and a great portion of the remains of another old monastery, called ST. JAMES--which latter may indeed be designated the _College of the Jacobites_; as the few members who inhabit it were the followers of the house and fortunes of the Pretender, James Stuart. The monastery, or _Abbey of St. Emmeram_ was one of the most celebrated throughout Europe; and I suspect that its library, both of MSS. and printed books, was among the principal causes of its celebrity.[160] The intelligent and truly obliging Mr. A. Kraemer, librarian to the Prince of Tour and Taxis, accompanied me in my visit to the very few existing remains of St. Emmeram--which indeed are incorporated, as it were, with the church close to the palace or residence of the Prince. As I walked along the corridors of this latter building, after having examined the Prince's library, and taken notes of a few of the rarer or more beautiful books, I could look through the windows into the body of the church itself. It is difficult to describe this religious edifice, and still more so to know what portions belonged to the old monastery. I saw a stone chair--rude, massive, and almost shapeless--in which _Adam_ might have sat ... if dates are to be judged of by the barbarism of form. Something like a crypt, of which the further part was uncovered--reminded me of portions of the crypt at _Freysing_; and among the old monuments belonging to the abbey, was one of _Queen Hemma_, wife of Ludovic, King of Bavaria: a great benefactress, who was buried there in 876. The figure, which was whole-length, and of the size of life, was painted; and might be of the fourteenth century. There is another monument, of _Warmundus, Count of Wasserburg_, who was buried in 1001. These monuments have been lithographised, from the drawings of Quaglio, in the "_Denkmahle der Baukunst des Mittelalters im Koenigreiche Baiern_," 1816. Folio. Of all interesting objects of architectural antiquity in Ratisbon, none struck me so forcibly--and indeed none is in itself so curious and singular--as the MONASTERY OF ST. JAMES, before slightly alluded to. The front of that portion of it, connected with the church, should seem to be of an extremely remote antiquity. It is the ornaments, or style of architecture, which give it this character of antiquity. The ornaments, which are on each side of the door way, or porch, are quite extraordinary, and appear as if the building had been erected by Mexicans or Hindoos. Quaglio has made a drawing, and published a lithographic print of the whole of this entrance. I had conjectured the building to be of the twelfth century, and was pleased to have my conjecture confirmed by the assurance of one of the members of the college (either Mr. Richardson or Mr. Sharp) that the foundations of the building were laid in the middle of the XIIth century; and that, about twenty miles off, down the Danube, there was another monastery, now in ruins, called _Mosburg_, if I mistake not--which was built about the same period, and which exhibited precisely the same style of architecture. But if the entire college, with the church, cloisters, sitting rooms, and dormitories, was productive of so much gratification, the _contents_ of these rooms, including the _members_ themselves, were productive of yet greater. To begin with the Head, or President, DR. C. ARBUTHNOT: one of the finest and healthiest looking old gentlemen I ever beheld--in his eighty-second year. I should however premise, that the members of this college--only six or eight in number, and attached to the interests of the Stuarts--have been settled here almost from their infancy: some having arrived at seven, and others at twelve, years of age. Their method of speaking their _own_ language is very singular; and rather difficult of comprehension. Nor is the _French_, spoken by them, of much better pronunciation. Of manners the most simple, and apparently of principles the most pure, they seem to be strangers to those wants and wishes which frequently agitate a more numerous and polished establishment; and to move, as it were, from the cradle to the grave ... "The world forgetting, by the world forgot." As soon as the present Head ceases to exist,[161] the society is to be dissolved--and the building to be demolished.[162] I own that this intelligence, furnished me by one of the members, gave a melancholy and yet more interesting air to every object which I saw, and to every Member with whom I conversed. The society is of the Benedictine order, and there is a large whole length portrait, in the upper cloisters, or rather corridor, of ST. BENEDICT--with the emphatic inscription of "PATER MONACHORUM." The _library_ was carefully visited by me, and a great number of volumes inspected. The local is small and unpretending: a mere corridor, communicating with a tolerably good sized room, in the middle, at right angles. I saw a few _hiatuses_, which had been caused by disposing of the volumes, that had _filled_ them, to the cabinet in St. James's Place. In fact, Mr. Horn--so distinguished for his bibliographical _trouvailles_--had been either himself a _member_ of this College, or had had a _brother_, so circumstanced, who foraged for him. What remained was, comparatively, mere chaff: and yet I contrived to find a pretty ample sprinkling of Greek and Latin Philosophy, printed and published at Paris by _Gourmont_, _Colinæus_, and the _Stephens_, in the first half of the sixteenth century. There were also some most beautifully-conditioned Hebrew books, printed by the _Stephen family_;--and having turned the bottoms of those books outwards, which I thought it might be possible to purchase, I requested the librarian to consider of the matter; who, himself apparently consenting, informed me, on the following morning, that, on a consultation held with the other members, it was deemed advisable not to part with any more of their books. I do not suppose that the whole would bring 250l. beneath a well known hammer in Pall-Mall. The PUBLIC LIBRARY was also carefully visited. It is a strange, rambling, but not wholly uninteresting place--although the collection is rather barbarously miscellaneous. I saw more remains of Roman antiquities of the usual character of rings, spear-heads, lachrymatories, &c.--than of rare and curious old books: but, among the latter, I duly noticed _Mentelin's edition of the first German Bible_. No funds are applied to the increase of this collection; and the books, in an upper and lower room, seem to lie desolate and forlorn, as if rarely visited--and yet more rarely opened. Compared with the celebrated public libraries in France, Bavaria, and Austria, this of RATISBON is ... almost a reproach to the municipal authorities of the place. I cannot however take leave of the book-theme, or of Ratisbon--without mentioning, in terms of unfeigned sincerity, the obligations I was under to M. AUGUSTUS KRAEMER, the librarian of the Prince of Tour and Taxis; who not only satisfied, but even anticipated, my wishes, in every thing connected with antiquities. There is a friendliness of disposition, a mildness of manner, and pleasantness both of mien and of conversation, about this gentleman, which render his society extremely engaging. Upon the whole, although I absolutely gained nothing in the way of book-acquisitions, during my residence at Ratisbon, I have not passed three pleasanter days in any town in Bavaria than those which were spent here. It is a place richly deserving of the minute attention of the antiquary; and the country, on the opposite side of the Danube, presents some genuine features of picturesque beauty. Nor were the civility, good fare, and reasonable charges of the _Agneau Blanc_, among the most insignificant comforts attending our residence at Ratisbon. We left that town a little after mid-day, intending to sleep the same evening at NEUMARKT, within two stages of Nuremberg. About an English mile from Ratisbon, the road rises to a considerable elevation, whence you obtain a fine and interesting view of that city--with the Danube encircling its base like a belt. From this eminence I looked, for the last time, upon that magnificent river--which, with very few exceptions, had kept in view the whole way from Vienna: a distance of about two hundred and sixty English miles. I learnt that an aquatic excursion, from Ulm to Ratisbon, was one of the pleasantest schemes or parties of pleasure, imaginable--and that the English were extremely partial to it. Our faces were now resolutely turned towards Nuremberg; while a fine day, and a tolerably good road, made us insensible of any inconvenience which might otherwise have resulted from a journey of nine German miles. We reached _Neumarkt_ about night-fall, and got into very excellent quarters. The rooms of the inn which we occupied had been filled by the Duke of Wellington and Lord and Lady Castlereagh on their journey to Congress in the winter of 1814. The master of the inn related to us a singular anecdote respecting the Duke. On hearing of his arrival, the inhabitants of the place flocked round the inn, and the next morning the Duke found the _tops of his boots half cut away_--from the desire which the people expressed of having "some memorial of the great captain of the age."[163] No other, or more feasible plan presented itself, than that of making interest with his Grace's groom--when the boots were taken down to be cleaned on the morning following his arrival. Perhaps the Duke's _coat_, had it been seen, might have shared the same fate. The morning gave me an opportunity of examining the town of _Neumarkt_, which is surrounded by a wall, in the _inner_ side of which is a sort of covered corridor (now in a state of great decay) running entirely round the town. At different stations there are wooden steps for the purpose of ascent and descent. In a churchyard, I was startled by the representation of the _Agony in the Garden_ (so often mentioned in this Tour) which was executed in stone, and coloured after the life, and which had every appearance of _reality_. I stumbled upon it, unawares: and confess that I had never before witnessed so startling a representation of the subject. Having quitted Neumarkt, after breakfast, it remained only to change horses at _Feucht_, and afterwards to dine at Nuremberg. Of all cities which I had wished to see, before and since quitting England, NUREMBERG was that upon which my heart seemed to be the most fixed.[164] It had been the nursery of the Fine Arts in Bavaria; one of the favourite residences of Maximilian the Great; the seat of learning and the abode equally of commerce and of wealth during the sixteenth century. It was here too, that ALBERT DURER--perhaps the most extraordinary genius of his age--lived and died: and here I learnt that his tombstone, and the house in which he resided, were still to be seen. The first view of the spires and turretted walls of Nuremberg[165] filled me with a sensation which it is difficult to describe. Within about five English miles of it, just as we were about to run down the last descent, from the bottom of which it is perfectly level to the very gates of the city--we discovered a group of peasants, chiefly female, busied in carrying barrows, apparently of fire wood, towards the town. On passing them, the attention of Mr. Lewis was caught by one female countenance in particular--so distinguished by a sweetness and benevolence of expression--that we requested the postilion to stop, that we might learn some particulars respecting this young woman, and the mode of life which she followed. She was without stockings; of a strong muscular form, and her face was half buried beneath a large flapping straw hat. We learnt that her parents were engaged in making black lead pencils (a flourishing branch of commerce, at this moment, at Nuremberg) for the wholesale dealers; and they were so poor, that she was glad to get a _florin_ by conveying wood (as we then saw her) four miles to Nuremberg. It was market-day when we entered Nuremberg, about four o'clock. The inn to which we had been recommended, proved an excellent one: civility, cleanliness, good fare, and reasonable charges--these form the tests of the excellence of the _Cheval Rouge_ at Nuremberg. In our route thither, we passed the two churches of St. _Lawrence_ and St. _Sebald_, of which the former is the largest--and indeed principal place of worship in the town. We also passed through the market-place, wherein are several gothic buildings--more elaborate in ornament than graceful in form or curious from antiquity. The whole square, however, was extremely interesting, and full of population and bustle. The town indeed is computed to contain 30,000 inhabitants. We noticed, on the outsides of the houses, large paintings, as at Ratisbon, of gigantic figures: and every street seemed to promise fresh gratification, as we descended one and ascended another. My first object, on settling at the hotel, was to seek out the PUBLIC LIBRARY, and to obtain an inspection of some of those volumes which had exercised the pen of DE MURR, in his Latin _Memoirs of the Public Library of Nuremberg_. I was now also in the birthplace of PANZER--another, and infinitely more distinguished bibliographer,--whose _Typographical Annals of Europe_ will for ever render his memory as dear to other towns as to Nuremberg. In short, when I viewed the _Citadel_ of this place--and witnessed, in my perambulations about the town, so many curious specimens of gothic architecture, I could only express my surprise and regret that more substantial justice had not been rendered to so interesting a spot. I purchased every thing I could lay my hand upon, connected with the _published antiquities_ of the town; but that "every thing" was sufficiently scanty and unsatisfactory. Before, however, I make mention of the Public Library, it may be as well briefly to notice the two churches--- _St. Sebald_ and _St. Lawrence_. The former was within a stone's throw of our inn. Above the door of the western front, is a remarkably fine crucifix of wood--placed, however, in too deep a recess--said to be by _Veit Stoss_. The head is of a very fine form, and the countenance has an expression of the most acute and intense feeling. A crown of thorns is twisted round the brow. But this figure, as well as the whole of the outside and inside of the church, stands in great need of being repaired. The towers are low, with insignificant turrets: the latter evidently a later erection--probably at the commencement of the sixteenth century. The eastern extremity, as well indeed as the aisles, is surrounded by buttresses; and the sharp-pointed, or lancet windows, seem to bespeak the fourteenth, if not the thirteenth century. The great "wonder" of the interior, is the _Shrine of the Saint_,[166] (to whom the church is dedicated,) of which the greater part is silver. At the time of my viewing it, it was in a disjointed state--parts of it having been taken to pieces, for repair: but from Geisler's exquisite little engraving, I should pronounce it to be second to few specimens of similar art in Europe. The figures do not exceed two feet in height, and the extreme elevation of the shrine may be about eight feet. Nor has Geisler's almost equally exquisite little engraving of the richly carved gothic _font_ in this church, less claim upon the admiration of the connoisseur. The mother church, or Cathedral of _St. Lawrence_, is much larger, and portions of it may be of the latter end of the thirteenth century. The principal entrance presents us with an elaborate door-way--perhaps of the fourteenth century--with the sculpture divided into several compartments, as at Rouen, Strasbourg, and other earlier edifices. There is a poverty in the two towers, both from their size, and the meagerness of the windows; but the slim spires at the summit, are, doubtless, nearly of a coeval date with that which supports them. The bottom of the large circular, or marygold window, is injured in its effect by a gothic balustrade of a later period. The interior of this church has certainly nothing very commanding or striking, on the score of architectural grandeur or beauty; but there are some painted glass-windows--especially by _Volkmar_---which are deserving of particular attention. Nuremberg has one advantage over many populous towns; its public buildings are not choked up by narrow streets: and I hardly know an edifice of distinction, round which the spectator may not walk with perfect ease, and obtain a view of every portion which he is desirous of examining. _The Fraüenkerche_, or the _church of St. Mary_, in the market-place, has a very singular construction in its western front. A double arched door-way, terminated by an arch at the top, and surmounted by a curious triangular projection from the main building, has rather an odd, than a beautiful effect. Above, terminating in an apex--surmounted by a small turret, are five rows of gothic niches, of which the extremities, at each end, narrow--in the fashion of steps, gradually--from the topmost of which range or rows of niches, the turret rises perpendicularly. It is a small edifice, and has been recently doomed to make a very distinguished figure in the imposing lithographic print of Quaglio.[167] The interior of this church is not less singular, as may be seen in the print published about sixty years ago, and yet faithful to its present appearance. I know not how it was, but I omitted to notice the ci-devant church of _Ste. Claire_, where there is said to be the most ancient stained glass window which exists--that is, of the middle of the thirteenth century; nor did I obtain a sight of the seven pillars of _Adam Kraft_, designating the seven points or stations of the Passion of our Saviour. But in the _Rath-hauz Platz_, in the way to the public library, I used to look with delight--almost every morning of the four days which I spent at Nuremberg--at the fragments of gothic architecture, to the right and left, that presented themselves; and among these, none caught my eye and pleased my taste, so fully, as the little hexagonal gothic window, which has sculptured subjects beneath the mullions, and which was attached to the _Pfarrhof_, or clergyman's residence, of St. Sebald. If ever Mr. Blore's pencil should be exercised in this magical city for gothic art, I am quite persuaded that _this window_ will be one of the subjects upon which its powers will be most successfully employed. A little beyond, in a very handsome square, called St. Giles's Place, lived the famous ANTHONY KOBERGER; the first who introduced the art of printing into Nuremberg--and from whose press, more Bibles, Councils, Decretals, Chronicles, and scholastic works, have proceeded than probably from any other press in Europe. Koberger was a magnificent printer, using always a bold, rich, gothic letter--and his first book, _Comestorium Vitiorum_, bears the date of 1470.[168] They shew the house, in this square, which he is said to have occupied; but which I rather suspect was built by his nephew JOHN KOBERGER, who was the son of Sebaldus Koberger, and who carried on a yet more successful business than his uncle. Not fewer than seventeen presses were kept in constant employ by him, and he is said to have been engaged in a correspondence with almost every printer and bookseller in Europe. It was my good fortune to purchase an original bronze head of him, of _Messrs. Frauenholz_ and _Co_., one of the most respectable and substantial houses, in the print trade, upon the Continent. This head is struck upon a circular bronze of about seven inches in diameter, bearing the following incription: JOANNES KOBERGER ... SEIN. ALTR. xxxx: that is, John Koberger, in the fortieth year of his age. The head, singularly enough, is _laureated;_ and in the upper part of it are two capital letters, of which the top parts resemble a B or D--and F or E. It is a fine solid piece of workmanship, and is full of individuality of character. From an old ms. inscription at the back, the original should appear to have died in 1522. I was of course too much interested in the history of the Kobergers, not to ask permission, to examine the premises from which so much learning and piety had once issued to the public; and I could not help being struck with at least the _space_ which these premises occupied. At the end of a yard, was a small chapel, which formerly was, doubtless, the printing office or drying room of the Kobergers. The interior of the house was now so completely devoted to other uses, that one could identify nothing. The church of St. Giles, in this place, is scarcely little more than a century old; as a print of it, of the date of 1689, represents the building to be not yet complete. I shall now conduct the reader at once to the PUBLIC LIBRARY; premising, that it occupies the very situation which it has held since the first book was deposited in it. This is very rarely the case abroad. It is, in fact, a small gothic quadrangle, with the windows modernised; and was formerly a convent of _Dominicans_. M. RANNER, the public librarian, (with whom--as he was unable to speak French, and myself equally unable to speak his own language--I conversed in the Latin tongue) assured me that there was anciently a printing press here--conducted by the Dominicans--who were resolved to print no book but what was the production of one of their own order. I have great doubts about this fact, and expressed the same to M. Ranner; adding, that I had never seen a book so printed; The librarian, however, reiterated his assertion, and said that the monastery was built in the eleventh century. There is certainly no visible portion of it older than the beginning of the fifteenth century. The library itself is on the first floor, and fills two rooms, running parallel with each other; both of them sufficiently dismal and uninviting. It is said to contain 45,000 volumes; but I much question whether there be half that number. There are some precious MSS. of which M. Ranner has published a catalogue in two octavo volumes, in the Latin language, in a manner extremely creditable to himself, and such as to render De Murr's labour upon the same subjects almost useless. Among these MSS. I was shewn one in the Hebrew language--of the eleventh or twelfth century--with very singular marginal illuminations, as grotesques or capriccios; in which the figures, whether human beings, monsters, or animals, were made out by _lines composed of Hebrew characters_, considered to be a gloss upon the text. As to the _printed books_ of an early date, they are few and unimportant--if the _subject_ of them be exclusively considered. There is a woeful want of _classics_, and even of useful literary performances. Here, however, I saw the far-famed _I. de Turrecremata Meditationes_ of 1467, briefly described by De Murr; of which, I believe, only two other copies are known to exist--namely, one in the Imperial library at Vienna,[169] and the other in the collection of Earl Spencer. It is an exceedingly precious book to the typographical antiquary, inasmuch as it is supposed to be the first production of the press of _Ulric Han_. The copy in question has the plates coloured; and, singularly enough, is bound up in a wooden cover with _Honorius de Imagine Mundi_, printed by Koberger, and the _Hexameron_ of _Ambrosius_, printed by Schuzler in 1472. It is, however, a clean, sound copy; but cut down to the size of the volumes with which it is bound. Here is the _Boniface_ of 1465, by Fust, UPON VELLUM: with a large space on the rectos of the second and third leaves, purposely left for the insertion of ms. or some subsequent correction. The _Durandus of_ 1459 has the first capital letter stamped with red and blue, like the smaller capital initials in the Psalter of 1457. In this first capital initial, the blue is the outer portion of the letter. The _German Bible by Mentelin_ is perfect; but wretchedly cropt, and dirty even to dinginess. Here is a very fine large genuine copy of _Jenson's Quintilian_ of 1471. Of the _Epistles of St. Jerom_, here are the early editions by _Mentelin_ and _Sweynheym_ and _Pannartz_; the latter, of the date of 1470: a fine, large copy--but not free from ms. annotations. More precious, however, in the estimation of the critical bibliographer--than either, or the whole, of the preceding volumes--is the very rare edition of the _Decameron of Boccaccio_, of the date of 1472, printed at _Mantua, by A. de Michaelibus_.[170] Such a copy as that in the public library at Nuremberg, is in all probability unparalleled: it being, in every respect, what a perfect copy should be--white, large, and in its pristine binding. A singular coincidence took place, while I was examining this extraordinarily rare book. M. Lechner, the bookseller, of whom I shall have occasion to speak again, brought me a letter, directed to his own house, from Earl Spencer. In that letter, his lordship requested me to make a particular collation of the edition of Boccaccio--with which I was occupied at the _very moment of receiving it_. Of course, upon every account, that collation was made. Upon its completion, and asking M. Ranner whether any consideration would induce the curators of the library to part with this volume, the worthy librarian shouted aloud!... adding, that, "not many weeks before, an English gentleman had offered the sum of sixty louis d'or for it,--but not _twice_ that sum could be taken!... and in fact the book must never leave its present quarters--no ... not even for the noble collection in behalf of which I pleaded so earnestly." M. Ranner's manner was so positive, and his voice so sonorous,--that I dreaded the submission of any contre-projet ... and accordingly left him in the full and unmolested enjoyment of his beloved Decameron printed by _Adam de Michaelibus_. M. Ranner shewed me a sound, fair copy of the _first Florentine Homer_ of 1488; but cropt, with red edges to the leaves. But I was most pleased with a sort of cupboard, or closet-fashioned recess, filled with the first and subsequent editions of all the pieces written by _Melancthon_, I was told that there were more than eight hundred of such pieces. These, and a similar collection from the pens of _Luther_ and _Eckuis_ at Landshut,[171] would, as I conceive, be invaluable repertories for the _History of the Reformation upon the Continent_. Although I examined many shelves of books, for two successive days, in the Public Library of Nuremberg, I am not conscious of having found any thing more deserving of detail than what has been already submitted to the reader. Of all edifices, more especially deserving of being visited at Nuremberg, the CITADEL is doubtless the most curious and ancient, as well as the most remarkable. It rises to a considerable height, close upon the outer walls of the town, within about a stone's throw of the end of _Albrecht Durer Strasse_--or the street where ALBERT DURER lived--and whose house is not only yet in existence, but still the object of attraction and veneration with every visitor of taste, from whatever part of the world he may chance to come. The street running down, is the street called (as before observed) after Albert Durer's own name; and the _well_, seen about the middle of it, is a specimen of those wells--built of stone--which are very common in the streets of Nuremberg. The house of Albert Durer is now in a very wretched, and even unsafe condition. The upper part is supposed to have been his study. The interior is so altered from its original disposition, as to present little or nothing satisfactory to the antiquary. It would be difficult to say how many coats of whitewash have been bestowed upon the rooms, since the time when they were tenanted by the great character in question. Passing through this street, therefore, you turn to the right, and continue onwards, up a pretty smart ascent; when the entrance to the citadel, by the side of a low wall--in front of an old tower--presents itself to your attention. It was before breakfast that my companion and self visited this interesting interior, over every part of which we were conducted by a most loquacious _cicerone_, who spoke the French language very fluently, and who was pleased to express his extreme gratification upon finding that his visitors were _Englishmen_. The tower, of the exterior of which there is a very indifferent engraving in the _Singularia Norimbergensia_, and the adjoining chapel, may be each of the thirteenth century; but the tombstone of the founder of the monastery, upon the site of which the present Citadel was built, bears the date of 1296. This tombstone is very perfect; lying in a loose, unconnected manner, as you enter the chapel:--the chapel itself having a crypt-like appearance. This latter is very small. From the suite of apartments in the older parts of the Citadel, there is a most extensive and uninterrupted view of the surrounding country, which is rather flat. At the distance of about nine miles, the town of _Furth_ (Furta) looks as if it were within an hour's walk; and I should think that the height of the chambers, (from which we enjoyed this view,) to the level ground of the adjacent meadows, could be scarcely less than three hundred feet. In these chambers, there is a little world of curiosity for the antiquary: and yet it was but too palpable that very many of its more precious treasures had been transported to Munich. In the time of Maximilian II., when Nuremberg may be supposed to have been in the very height of its glory, this Citadel must have been worth a pilgrimage of many score miles to have visited. The ornaments which remain are chiefly pictures; of which several are exceedingly precious. Our guide hastened to show us the celebrated two Venuses of _Lucas Cranach_, which are most carefully preserved within folding doors. They are both whole lengths, of the size of life. One of them, which is evidently the inferior picture, is attended by a Cupid; the other is alone, having on a broad red velvet hat--but, in other respects, undraped. For this latter picture, we were told that two hundred louis d'or had been offered and refused--which they well might have been; for I consider it to be, not the only chef-d'oeuvre of L. Cranach, but in truth a very extraordinary performance. There is doubtless something of a poverty of drawing about it; but the colouring glows with a natural warmth which has been rarely surpassed even by Titian. It is one of the most elaborated pictures--yet producing a certain breadth of effect--which can be seen. The other Venus is perhaps more carefully painted--but the effect is cold and poor. Here is also, by the same artist, a masterly little head of _St. Hubert_; and, near it, a charming portrait of _Luther's wife_, by Hans Holbein; but the back-ground of the latter being red and comparatively recent, is certainly not by the same hand. The countenance is full of a sweet, natural expression; and if this portrait be a faithful one of the wife of Luther, we must give that great reformer credit for having had a good taste in the choice of a wife--as far as _beauty_ is concerned. Here are supposed portraits of _Charlemagne and Sigismund II.,_ by Albert Durer--which exhibit great freedom of handling, and may be considered magnificent specimens of that master's better manner of portrait painting. The heads are rather of colossal size. The draperies are most elaborately executed. I observed here, with singular satisfaction, _two_ of the well-known series of the TWELVE APOSTLES, supposed to be both painted and engraved by Albert Durer. They were _St. John_ and _St. Paul_; the drapery, especially of the latter, has very considerable merit. But probably the most interesting picture to the generality of visitors--and indeed it is one entitled to particular commendation by the most curious and critical--is, a large painting, by _Sandrart_, representing a fête given by the Austrian Ambassador, at Nuremberg, upon the conclusion of the treaty of peace at Westphalia, in 1649, after the well known thirty year's war. This picture is about fourteen feet long, by ten wide. The table, at which the guests are banquetting, is filled by all the great characters who were then assembled upon the occasion. An English knight of the garter is sufficiently conspicuous; his countenance in three quarters, being turned somewhat over his left shoulder. The great fault of this picture is, making the guests to partake of a banquet, and yet to turn all their faces _from it_--in order that the spectator may recognise their countenances. Those who sit at table, are about half the size of life. To the right of them, is a group as large as life, in which Sandrart has introduced himself, as if painting the picture. His countenance is charmingly coloured; but it is a pity that all propriety of perspective is so completely lost, by placing two such differently sized groups in the same chamber. This picture stands wofully in need of being repaired. It is considered--and apparently with justice--to be the CHEF D'OEUVRE of the master. I have hardly ever seen a picture, of its kind, more thoroughly interesting--both on the score of subject and execution; but it is surely due to the memory of an artist, like Sandrart,--who spent the greater part of a long life at Nuremberg, and established an academy of painting there--that this picture ... be at least _preserved_ ... if there be no means of engraving it. In these curious old chambers, it was to be expected that I should see some _Wohlegemuths_--as usual, with backgrounds in a blaze of gold, and figures with tortuous limbs, pinched-in waists, and caricatured countenances. In a room, pretty plentifully encumbered with rubbish, I saw a charming _Snyders;_ being a dead stag, suspended from a pole. There is here a portrait of _Albert Durer_, by himself; but said to be a copy. If so, it is a very fine copy. The original is supposed to be at Munich. There was nothing else that my visit enabled me to see, particularly deserving of being recorded; but, when I was told that it was in THIS CITADEL that the ancient Emperors of Germany used oftentimes to reside, and make carousal, and when I saw, _now_, scarcely any thing but dark passages, unfurnished galleries, naked halls, and untenanted chambers--I own that I could hardly refrain from uttering a sigh over the mutability of earthly fashions, and the transitoriness of worldly grandeur. With a rock for its base, and walls almost of adamant for its support--situated also upon an eminence which may be said to look frowningly down over a vast sweep of country--THE CITADEL OF NUREMBERG should seem to have bid defiance, in former times, to every assault of the most desperate and enterprising foe. It is now visited only by the casual traveller ... who is frequently startled at the echo of his own footsteps. While I am on the subject of ancient art--of which so many curious specimens are to be seen in this Citadel--it may not be irrelevant to conduct the reader at once to what is called the _Town Hall_--a very large structure--of which portions are devoted to the exhibition of old pictures. Many of these paintings are in a very suspicious state, from the operations of time and accident; but the great boast of the collection are the Triumphs of Maximilian I, executed by _Albert Durer_--which, however, have by no means escaped injury. I was accompanied in my visit to this interesting collection by Mr. Boerner, a partner in the house of Frauenholz and Co.--and had particular reason to be pleased by the friendliness of his attentions, and by the intelligence of his observations. A great number of these pictures (as I understood) belonged to Messrs. Frauenholz and Co.; and among them, a portrait by _Pens_, struck me as being singularly admirable and exquisite. The countenance, the dress, the attitude, the drawing and colouring, were as perfect as they well might be. But this collection has also suffered from the transportation of many of its treasures to Munich. The rooms, halls, and corridors of this Hôtel de Ville give you a good notion of municipal grandeur. Nuremberg was once the life and soul of _art_ as well as of _commerce_. The numismatic, or perhaps medallic, productions of her artists, in the XVIth century, might, many of them, vie with the choicest efforts of Greece. I purchased two silver medals, of the period just mentioned, which are absolutely perfect of their kind: one has, on the obverse, the profile of an old man with a flowing beard and short bonnet, with the circumscription of _Ætatis Suæ LXVI._; and, on the reverse, the words _De Coelo Victoria. Anno M.D. XLVI._ surrounding the arms of Bavaria. I presume the head to be a portrait of some ancient Bavarian General; and the inscription, on the reverse, to relate to some great victory, in honour of which the medal was struck. The piece is silver-gilt. The boldness of its relief can hardly be exceeded. The other medal represents the portrait of _Joh. Petreius Typographus, Anno Ætat. Suæ._ IIL. (48), _Anno_ 1545--executed with surprising delicacy, expression, and force. But evidences of the perfect state of art in ancient times, at Nuremberg, may be gathered from almost every street in which the curious visitor walks. On the first afternoon of my arrival here, I was driven, by a shower of rain, into a small shop--upon a board, on the exterior of which were placed culinary dishes. The mistress of the house had been cleaning them for the purpose of shewing them off to advantage on the Sunday. One of these dishes--which was brass, with ornaments in high relief--happened to be rather deep, but circular, and of small diameter. I observed a subject in relief, at the bottom, which looked very like art as old as the end of the fifteenth century--although a good deal worn away, from the regularity pf periodical rubbing. The subject represented the eating of the forbidden fruit. Adam, Eve, the Serpent, the trees, and the fruit--with labels, on which the old gothic German letter was sufficiently obvious--all told a tale which was irresistible to antiquarian feelings. Accordingly I proposed terms of purchase (one ducat) to the good owner of the dish:--who was at first exceedingly surprised at the offer ... wondering what could be seen so particularly desirable in such a homely piece of kitchen furniture ... but, in the end, she consented to the proposal with extraordinary cheerfulness. In another shop, on a succeeding day, I purchased two large brass dishes, of beautiful circular forms, with ornaments in bold relief--and brought the whole culinary cargo home with me. While upon the subject of _old art_--of which there are scarcely a hundred yards in the city of Nuremberg that do not display some memorial, however perishing--I must be allowed to make especial mention of the treasures of BARON DERSCHAU--a respectable old Prussian nobleman, who has recently removed into a capacious residence, of which the chambers in front contain divers old pictures; and one chamber in particular, backward, is filled with curiosities of a singular variety of description.[172] I had indeed heard frequent mention of this gentleman, both in Austria and Bavaria. His reception of me was most courteous, and his conversation communicative and instructive. He _did_, and did _not_, dispose of things. He _was_, and was _not_, a sort of gentleman-merchant. One drawer was filled with ivory handled dirks, hunting knives, and pipe-bowls; upon which the carver had exercised all his cunning skill. Another drawer contained implements of destruction in the shape of daggers, swords, pistols, and cutlasses: all curiously wrought. A set of _Missals_ occupied a third drawer: portfolios of drawings and _prints_, a fourth; and sundry _volumes_, of various and not uninteresting character, filled the shelves of a small, contiguous book-case. Every thing around me bore the aspect of _temptation_; when, calling upon my tutelary genius to defend me in such a crisis, I accepted the Baron's offer, and sat down by the side of him upon a sofa--which, from the singularity of its form and _matériel_, might formerly possibly have supported the limbs of Albert Durer himself. The Baron commenced the work of _incantation_ by informing me that he was once in possession of the _journal_, or day-book, of Albert Durer:--written in the German language--and replete with the most curious information respecting the manner of his own operations, and of those of his workmen. From this journal, it appeared that Albert Durer was in the habit of _drawing upon the blocks_, and that his men performed the remaining operation of _cutting away the wood_. I frankly confessed that I had long suspected this: and still suspect the same process to have been used in regard to the wood cuts supposed to have been executed by _Hans Holbein_. On my eagerly enquiring what had become of this precious journal, the Baron replied with a sigh--which seemed to come from the very bottom of his heart--that "it had perished in the flames of a house, in the neighbourhood of one of the battles fought between Bonaparte and the Prussians!!" The Baron is both a man of veracity and virtù. In confirmation of the latter, he gave all his very extraordinary collection of original blocks of wood, containing specimens of art of the most remote period of wood engraving, to the Royal University at Berlin--from which collection has been regularly published, those livraisons, of an atlas form, which contain impressions of the old blocks in question.[173] It is hardly possible for a graphic antiquary to possess a more completely characteristic and _beguiling_ publication than this. On expressing a desire to purchase any little curiosity or antiquity, in the shape of _book_ or _print_, for which the Baron had no immediate use, I was shewn several rarities of this kind; which I did not scruple to request might be laid aside for me--for the purpose of purchasing. Of these, in the book way, the principal were a _Compendium Morale_: a Latin folio, PRINTED UPON VELLUM, without date or name of printer--and so completely unknown to bibliographers, that Panzer, who had frequently had this very volume in his hands, was meditating the writing of a little treatise on it; and was interrupted only by death from carrying his design into execution. It is in the most perfect state of preservation. A volume of _Hours_, and a _Breviary of Cracow_, for the winter part, PRINTED UPON VELLUM--in the German language, exceedingly fair and beautiful. A TERENCE of 1496 (for 9 florins), and the first edition of _Erasmus's Greek Testament_, 1516, for 18 florins. The "_Compendium"_ was charged by the Baron at about 5_l_. sterling. These, with the Austrian historians, Pez, Schard, and Nidanus, formed a tolerably fair acquisition.[174] In the _print_ way, I was fortunate in purchasing a singularly ancient wood-cut of _St. Catherine_, in the peculiarly dotted manner of the fifteenth century. This wood-cut was said to be UNIQUE. At any rate it is very curious and rare; and on my return to England, M. Du Chesne, who is the active director in the department of the prints at Paris, prevailed upon me to part with my St. Catherine--at a price, which sufficiently shewed that he considered it to be no very indifferent object to the royal collection of France. This however was a perfectly secondary consideration. The print was left behind at Paris, as adding something to a collection of unrivalled value and extent, and where there were previously deposited two or three similar specimens of art. But the Baron laid the greatest stress upon a copper plate impression of a crucifixion, of the date of 1430: which undoubtedly had a very staggering aspect.[175] It is described in the subjoined note; and for reasons, therein detailed, I consider it to be much less valuable than the _St. Catherine_.[176] I also purchased of the Baron a few _Martin Schoens, Albert Durers_, and _Israel Van Mechlins_; and what I preferred to either, is a beautiful little illumination, cut out of an old choral book, or psalter, said, by the vendor, to be the production of _Weimplan_, an artist, at Ulm, of the latter end of the fifteenth century. On my return to England, I felt great pleasure in depositing this choice morceau of ancient art in the very extraordinary collection of my friend Mr. Ottley--at the same price for which I had obtained it--about five and twenty shillings. Upon the whole, I was well satisfied with the result of the "temptation" practised upon me at Baron Derschau's, and left the mansion with my purse lightened of about 340 florins. The Baron was anxious to press a choice _Aldus_ or two upon me; but the word "choice" is somewhat ambiguous: and what was considered to be so at _Nuremberg_, might receive a different construction in _London_. I was, however, anxious to achieve a much nobler feat than that of running away with undescribed printed volumes, or rare old prints--whether from copper or wood. It was at Nuremberg that the EBNER FAMILY had long resided: and where the _Codex Ebnerianus_--a Greek MS. of the New Testament, of the XIIth. century--had been so much celebrated by the elaborate disquisition of De Murr--which is accompanied by several copper plate fac-simile engravings of the style of art in the illuminations of the MS. in question. I had heard that the ancient splendors of the Ebner family had been long impaired; that their library had been partly dispersed; and that THIS VERY MS. was yet to be purchased. I resolved, therefore, to lose no opportunity of becoming possessed of it ... preparing myself to offer a very considerable sum, and trusting that the spirit of some private collector, or public body, in my own country, would not long allow it to be a burden on my hands. Accordingly, by the interposition and kind offices of M. Lechner, the bookseller, I learnt, not only in what quarter the MS. was yet preserved, but that its owners were willing to dispose of it for a valuable consideration. A day and hour were quickly appointed. The gentleman, entrusted with the MS.--M. Lechner as interpreter, my own valet, as interpreter between myself and M. Lechner, who could not speak French very fluently--all assembled at the _Cheval Rouge_: with the CODEX EBNERIANUS, bound in massive silver, lying upon the table between us. It is a small, thick quarto volume; written in the cursive Greek character, upon soft and fair coloured vellum, and adorned with numerous illuminations in a fine state of preservation. Its antiquity cannot surely be carried beyond the XIIth century. On the outside of one of the covers, is a silver crucifix. Upon the whole, this precious book, both from its interior and exterior attractions, operated upon me infinitely more powerfully than the ivory-handled knives, gilt-studded daggers, gorgeous scraps of painting, or antique-looking prints ... of the Baron Derschau. We soon commenced an earnest conversation; all four of us frequently being upon our legs, and speaking, at the same time. The price was quickly fixed by the owner of the MS.; but not so readily consented to by the proposed purchaser. It was 120 louis d'or. I adhered to the offer of 100: and we were each inflexible in our terms. I believe indeed, that if my 100 louis d'or could have been poured from a bag upon the table, as "argent-comptant," the owner of the MS. _could_ not have resisted the offer: but he seemed to think that, if paper currency, in the shape of a bill, were resorted to, it would not be prudent to adopt that plan unless the sum of 120l. were written upon the instrument. The conference ended by the MS. being carried back to be again deposited in the family where it had so long taken up its abode. It is, however, most gratifying for me to add, that its return to its ancient quarters was only temporary; and that it was destined to be taken from them, for ever, by British spirit and British liberality. When Mr. John Payne visited Germany, in the following year, I was anxious to give him some particulars about this MS. and was sanguine enough to think that a second attempt to carry it off could not fail to be successful. The house of Messrs. Payne and Foss, so long and justly respected throughout Europe, invested their young representative with ample powers for negotiation--and the _Codex Ebnerianus_, after having been purchased by the representative in question, for the sum first insisted upon by the owner--now reposes upon the richly furnished shelves of the BODLEIAN LIBRARY--where it is not likely to repose _in vain_; and from whence no efforts, by the most eminently successful bibliographical diplomatist in Europe, can dislodge it. I must now say a few words respecting the present state of the FINE ARTS at Nuremberg, and make mention of a few things connected with the vicinity of the town, ere I conduct the reader to Manheim: regretting, however, that I am necessitated to make that account so summary. I consider M. KLEIN to be among the very brightest ornaments of this place, as an artist. I had seen enough of his productions at Vienna, to convince me that his pencil possessed no ordinary powers. He is yet a young man; somewhere between thirty and forty, and leads occasionally a very romantic life--but admirably subservient to the purposes of his art. He puts a knapsack upon his back, filled with merely necessary articles of linen and materials for work--and then stops, draws, eats, drinks, and sleeps where it pleases him: wherever his eye is gratified by strong characteristics of nature--whether on cattle, peasants, soldiers, or Cossacks. Klein appears to have obtained his exquisite knowledge of animal painting from having been a pupil of GABLER--a professed studier of natural history, and painter of animals. The pupil was unluckily absent from Nuremberg, when I was there; but from many enquiries of his ultimate friends, I learnt that he was of a cheerful, social disposition--fond of good company, and was in particular a very active and efficient member of a _Society of Artists_, which has been recently established at Nuremberg. Klein himself, however, resides chiefly at Vienna--there not being sufficient patronage for him in his native city. His water-coloured drawings, in particular, are considered admirable; but he has lately commenced painting in oil--with considerable success. His _etchings_, of which he has published about one hundred, are in general masterly; but perhaps they are a little too metallic and severe. His observation of nature is at once acute and correct. In the neighbourhood of Nuremberg--that is to say, scarcely more than an English mile from thence--are the grave and tomb-stone of ALBERT DURER. Dr. Bright having printed that artist's epitaph at length[177]--and it being found in most biographical details relating to him--it need not be here repeated. The monument is simple and striking. In the churchyard, there is a representation of the Crucifixion, cut in stone. It was on a fine, calm evening, just after sunset, that I first visited the tombstone of Albert Durer; and shall always remember the sensations, with which that visit was attended, as among the most pleasing and impressive of my life. The silence of the spot,--its retirement from the city--the falling shadows of night, and the increasing solemnity of every monument of the dead--- together with the mysterious, and even awful effect, produced by the colossal crucifix... but yet perhaps, more than either, the recollection of the extraordinary talents of the artist, so quietly sleeping beneath my feet ... all conspired to produce a train of reflections which may be readily conceived, but not so readily described. If ever a man deserved to be considered as the glory of his age and nation, ALBERT DURER was surely that man. He was, in truth, the Shakspeare of his art--for the _period_. Notwithstanding I had made every enquiry among the principal booksellers, of _Antiquars_, [178] for rare and curious old volumes, I literally found nothing worth purchasing. The Baron Derschau was doubtless my best friend on this score. Yet I was told that, if I would put a pair of horses to my carriage, and drive, to _Furth_--a short two German mile stage from Nuremberg, and which indeed I had distinctly seen from the windows of the citadel--I should find there, at a certain Antiquar's, called HEERDEGEN, an endless, variety of what was precious and curious in the department of which I was in search. Accordingly, I put the wheels of my carriage in motion, within twenty-four hours of receiving the intelligence. The road to Furth is raised from the level of the surrounding country, and well paved in the centre. It is also lined by poplar trees, a great part of the way. I have reason to remember this visit for many a long day. Having drove to M. Heerdegen's door, I was received with sufficient courtesy; and was told to mount to the top of the house, where the more ancient books were kept, while he, M. Heerdegen, settled a little business below. That business consisted in selling so many old folios, by the pound weight, in great wooden scales;--the vendor, all the time, keeping up a cheerful and incessant conversation. The very _sight_ of this transaction was sufficient to produce an hysterical affection--and, instead of mounting upwards, I stood--stock still--wondering at such an act of barbarity! Having requested permission to open the volumes in question, and finding them to contain decretals, and glosses upon councils, I recovered myself by degrees ... and leisurely walked to the very topmost floor of the house. M. Heerdegen was not long after me. He is a most naïf character; and when he is pleased with a customer, he presents him with an india ink drawing of his own portrait. On receiving this testimony of his approbation, I did not fail to make my proper acknowledgements: but, with respect to the books with which I was to load my carriage, there was scarcely a shadow of hope, of even securing a dozen volumes worth transporting to the banks of the Rhine. However, after three hours pretty severe labour--having opened and rejected I know not how many books of Medicine, Civil and Canon Law, Scholastic Divinity, Commentaries upon Aristotle, and disputations connected with Duns Scotus, together with a great number of later impressions of the Latin Bible in the XVth century--I contrived to get a good _Latin Plutarch_, some pretty Aldine octavos, a few _Lochers_ and _Brandts_, a rare little German poetical tract, of four leaves, called the _Wittemberg Nightingale_, and an _Italian Bible_ printed by the _Giuntæ_, which had belonged to _Melancthon_, and contained his autograph:--all which, with some pieces by _Eckius_, _Schottus_, and _Erasmus_, to the amount of 4_l._ 4_s._ of English money, were conveyed with great pomp and ceremony below. However, I had not been long with M. Heerdegen, before a clergyman, of small stature and spare countenance, made his appearance and saluted me. He had seen the carriage pass, and learnt, on enquiry, that the traveller within it had come expressly to see M. Heerdegen. He introduced himself as the curate of the neighbouring church, of which M. Fronmüller was the rector or pastor: adding, that _his own_ church was the only place of Christian worship in the village. This intelligence surprised me; but the curate, whose name was _Link_, continued thus: "This town, Sir, consists of a population of ten thousand souls, of which four-fifths are _Jews;_ who are strictly forbidden to sleep within the walls of Nuremberg. It is only even by a sort of courtesy, or sufferance, that they are allowed to transact business there during the day time." M. Link then begged I would accompany him to his own church, and to the rector's house--taking his own house in the way. There was nothing particularly deserving of notice in the church, which has little claim to antiquity. It had, however, a good organ. The rector was old and infirm. I did not see him, but was well pleased with his library, which is at once scholar-like and professional. The library of the curate was also excellent of its kind, though limited, from the confined means of its owner. It is surprising upon what small stipends the Protestant clergy live abroad; and if I were to mention that of M. Link, I should only excite the scepticism of my readers. I was then conducted through the village--which abounded with dirty figures and dirty faces. The women and female children were particularly disgusting, from the little attention paid to cleanliness. The men and boys were employed in work, which accounted for their rough appearance. The place seems to swarm with population--and if a plague, or other epidemic disorder should prevail, I can hardly conceive a scene in which it is likely to make more dreadful havoc than at _Furth_. Although I had not obtained any thing _very special_ at this place, in the book way, I was yet glad to have visited it--were it only for the sake of adding one more original character to the _bibliopolistic fraternity_ upon the Continent. In spite of the very extraordinary _line_ of business which M. Heerdegen chooses to follow, I have reason to think that he "turns a good penny" in the course of the year; but own that it was with surprise I learnt that Mr. Bohn, the bookseller of Frith Street,[179] had preceded me in my visit--and found some historical folios which he thought well worth the expense of conveyance to England. It remains only to return for a few hours to Nuremberg, and then to conduct the reader to Manheim. One of the four days, during which I remained at Nuremberg, happened to be _Sunday_; and of all places upon the Continent, Sunday is, at Nuremberg, among the gayest and most attractive. The weather was fine, and the whole population was alternately within and without the city walls. Some Bavarian troops of cavalry were exercising near the public walks, and of course a great multitude was collected to witness their manoeuvres. On casting my eye over this concourse of people, attired in their best clothes, I was particularly struck with the head dresses of the women: composed chiefly of broad-stiffened riband, of different colours, which is made to stick out behind in a flat manner--not to be described except by the pencil of my graphic companion. The figure, seen in the frontispiece of the third volume of this work, is that of the _Fille de chambre_ at our hotel, who was habited in her Sunday attire; and it displays in particular the riband head-dress--which was of black water-tabby sarsenet. But as these ribands are of different colours, and many of them gay and gorgeous, their appearance, in the open air--and where a great number of people is collected, and in constant motion--is that, as it were, of so many moving suns. In general, the _Nurembergeoises_ have little pretensions to beauty: they are; however, active, civil, and intelligent. It is rarely one takes leave of an hotel with regret when every days journey brings us sensibly nearer home. But it is due to the kind treatment and comfortable lodgings, of which I partook at Nuremberg; to say, that no traveller can leave the _Cheval Rouge_ without at least wishing that all future inns which he visits may resemble it. We left Nuremberg after dinner, resolving to sleep at _Ansbach_; of which place the Margrave and Margravine were sufficiently distinguished in our own country. I had received a letter of introduction to Monsieur Le Comte de Drechsel, President de la Regence--and President of the corporation of Nuremberg--respecting the negotiation for the Boccaccio of 1472; from which, however, I augured no very favourable result. The first stage from Nuremberg is _Kloster Heilbronn_: where, on changing horses, the master of the inn pressed me hard to go and visit the old church, which gives the name to the village, and which was said to contain some curious old paintings by Albert Durer: but there was literally no time--and I began to be tired ... almost of Albert Durers! At Ansbach we drove to the _Crown_, a large and excellent inn. It was nightfall when we entered the town, but not so dark as to render the size and extent of the Margrave's palace invisible, nor so late as to render a visit to two booksellers, after a late cup of tea, impracticable. At one place, I found something in the shape of old books, but purchased nothing--except an edition of Boccaccio's Tales, in French, with the well known plates of Roman Le Hooge, 1701. 8vo. It was loosely bound in sorry calf, but a florin could not be considered too much for it, even in its sombre state. The other bookseller supplied, by the tender of his friendly offices, the deficiencies of his collection--which, in fact, consisted of nothing but a stock of modern publications. The next morning I visited the Comte Drechsel--having first written him a note, and gently touched upon the point at issue. He received me with courtesy; and I found him particularly intelligent--but guarded in every expression connected with any thing like the indulgence, even of a hope, of obtaining the precious volume in question. He would submit my proposition to the municipality. He understood English perfectly well, and spoke French fluently. I had received intimation of a collection of rare and curious old books, belonging to a Mr...., in the environs of Ansbach; who, having recently experienced some misfortunes, had meditated the sale of his library. The owner had a pretty country house, scarcely a stone's throw from the outskirts of the town, and I saw his wife and children--but no books. I learnt that these latter were conveyed to the town for the purpose of sale; and having seen a few of them, I left a commission for a copy of _Fust and Schoeffher's_ edition of Pope Boniface's Councils of 1465, UPON VELLUM. I have never heard of the result of the sale. From Ansbach to _Heilbronn_, which can be scarcely less than sixty English miles, few things struck me on the road more forcibly than the remains of a small old church and cloisters at _Feuchtwang_--where we stopped to change horses, the first stage after Ansbach. It rained heavily, and we had only time to run hastily through these very curious old relics, which, if appearances formed the test of truth, might, from the colour of the stone and the peculiarity of the structure, have been old enough to designate the first christian place of worship established in Germany. The whole, however, was upon a singularly small scale. I earnestly recommend every English antiquary to stop longer than we did at Feuchtwang. From thence to _Heilbronn_, we passed many a castle-crowned summit, of which the base and adjacent country were covered by apparently impenetrable forests of fir and elm; but regretted exceedingly that it was quite nightfall when we made the very steep and _nervous_ entrance into _Hall_--down a mountainous descent, which seemed to put the carriage on an inclined plane of forty-five degrees. We were compelled to have four horses, on making the opposite ascent; and were even preceded by boys, with links and torches, over a small bridge, under which runs a precipitous and roaring stream. Hall is a large, lively, and much frequented town. _Heilbronn_, or _Hailbrunn_, is a large consequential town; and parts of it are spacious, as well as curious from appearances of antiquity. The large square, where we changed horses, was sufficiently striking; and the Hotel de ville in particular was worthy of being copied by the pencil of my companion. But we were only passing travellers, anxious to reach Manheim and to cross the Rhine. The country about Heilbronn is picturesque and fertile, and I saw enough to convince me that two days residence there would not be considered as time thrown away. It is one of the principal towns in the kingdom of Wirtemberg, and situated not many leagues from the Black Forest, or _Schwartz Wald_, where wild boars and other wild animals abound, and where St. Hubert (for aught I know to the contrary) keeps his nocturnal revels in some hitherto unfrequented glen ... beneath the radiance of an unclouded moon. But if _Heilbronn_ be attractive, from the imposing appearance of the houses, _Heidelberg_ is infinitely more so; containing a population of nine thousand inhabitants. We reached this latter place at dinner time, on Sunday--but as it rained heavily for the last hour previous to our entrance, we could not take that survey of the adjacent country which we so much desired to do. Yet we saw sufficient to delight us infinitely: having travelled along the banks of the river _Neckhar_ for the last three or four miles, observing the beautifully wood-crowned hills on the opposite side. But it is the CASTLE, or OLD PALACE of HEIDELBERG--where the Grand Dukes of Baden, or old Electors Palatine, used to reside--and where the celebrated TUN, replenished with many a score hogshead of choice Rhenish wine--form the grand objects of attraction to the curious traveller. The palace is a striking edifice more extensive than any thing I had previously seen; but in the general form of its structure, so like _Holland House_ at Kensington, that I hesitated not one moment to assign the commencement of the sixteenth century, as the period of the building in question. The date of 1607,[180] cut in stone, over one of the principal doors, confirmed my conjecture. I now looked eagerly on all sides--observing what portions were more or less dilapidated, and wondering at the extent and magnificence of the building. Room after room, corridor succeeding corridor--saloons, galleries, banquetting apartments, each and all denuded of its once princely furniture--did not fail to strike my imagination most forcibly. Here was the _Hall of Chivalry_, which had been rent asunder by lightning: yonder, a range of statues of the old _Electors Counts Palatine_:--a tier of granite columns stood in another direction, which had equally defied the assaults of the foe and the ravages of time. In one part, looking down, I observed an old square tower, which had been precipitated in consequence (as I learnt) of an explosion of gunpowder. It was doubtless about a century older than the building from which I observed it. On an eminence, almost smothered with larch and lime, and nearly as much above ourselves as we were from the town, stand the ruins of another old castle ... the residence of the older Counts Palatine. The whole scene was full of enchantment to an antiquarian traveller; and I scarcely knew how to quit one portion of it for another. The terrace, at the back of the castle, forms a noble and commanding walk. Here, in former days, the counts and dukes of the empire, with all their trains of duchesses and damoiselles, used to parade in full pomp and magnificence, receiving the homage of their dependants, and the applause of the townsmen. From hence, indeed, they might have looked down, in the proud spirit of disdain, upon their vassal subjects:--or, in case of rebellion, have planted their cannon and pulverised their habitations in a little hour. It is hardly possible to conceive a more magnificent situation ... but now, all is silence and solitude. The wild boar intrudes with impunity into the gardens--and the fowls of heaven roost within those spacious chambers, which were once hung with rich arras, or covered with gorgeous tapestry. Scarcely three human beings ... who seem to sleep out their existence ... are now the tenants of THAT MANSION, where once scarcely fewer than one hundred noblemen with their attendants, found comfortable accommodations. A powerful, and yet not unpleasing melancholy, touches the heart ... as one moves leisurely along these speaking proofs of the mutability of earthly grandeur. No man visits this proud palace without visiting also the equally celebrated TUN--of which _Merian_, in his well known views, has supplied us with a print or two. It is placed in the lower regions of the palace, in a room by itself--except that, by the side of it, there stands a small cask which may hold a hogshead, and which is considered to be the _ne plus ultra_ of the art of cooperage. It is made in the neatest and closest- fitting manner imaginable, without either a nail, or piece of iron, or encircling hoop; and I believe it to be nearly as old as the _great Tun_. This latter monstrous animal, of his species, is supported by ribs--of rather a picturesque appearance--which run across the belly of the cask, at right angles with the staves. As a WINE CASK, it has long maintained its proud distinction of being the _largest in the world_. A stair-case is to the right of it, leading to a little square platform at the top; upon which frolicksome lads and lasses used, in former days, to dance, when the tub had been just filled with the produce of the passing year's vintage. The guide told us that one Elector or Grand Duke, I think it was CHARLES THEODORE, had immortalised himself, by having, during his regency, caused the great tun of Heidelberg to be fairly _twice emptied_;--"those (added he) were golden days, never to return. At present, and for a long time past, the cask is filled almost to the very top with _mere lees_." In an adjoining cellar, I was shewn a set of casks, standing perpendicularly, called the _Twelve Apostles_. The whole of this subterraneous abode had, I must confess, a great air of hospitality about it; but when I mentioned to the guide the enormous size of those casks used by our principal London brewers--compared with which, even the "GREAT TUN" was a mere TEA-CUP--he held up his hands, shook his head, and exclaimed with great self- satisfaction... "cela ne se peut pas être!" After I had dined, I called upon M. Schlosser, one of the professors of the University--for which this town is rather celebrated.[181] Attached to this University, is a famous _Library of MSS. and printed books_--but more especially of the former. It has been long known under the name of the _Palatine Library;_ and having been seized and transported to the Vatican, at the conclusion of the thirty years war, and from thence carried to Paris, was, in the year 1815, at the urgent intercession of the King of Prussia, restored to its ancient-resting-place. What "a day of joyance" was that when this restoration took place! M. Schlosser adverted to it with a satisfaction amounting... almost to rapture. That gentleman made me a present of the first part of his _Universal Biography_, published at _Franckfort on the Main_, the preceding year, in 8vo.--in the German language--with copious and erudite notes. He shewed me the earlier printed volumes of the Public Library; of which, having unluckily lost the few memoranda I had taken--but which I believe only included the notice of a _first Caesar_, _first Suetonius_, and _first Tacitus_--I am not able to give any particular details. M. Schlosser conversed a good deal, and very earnestly, about Lord Spencer's library--and its probable ultimate destination; seeming to dread its "_dispersion_" as a national calamity. It was late in the afternoon, when darkness was rather prematurely coming on--and the rain descending almost in torrents--that I left Heidelberg for MANHEIM--the _ultima Thule_ of my peregrinations on the German side of the Rhine. The road is nearly straight, in good order, and lined with poplar trees. People of all descriptions--on foot, in gigs, carriages, and upon horseback--were hastening home--as upon a Sunday evening with _us_:--anxious to escape the effects of a soaking rain. Unfavourable as the weather was, I could not help looking behind, occasionally, to catch glimpses of the magnificent palace of Heidelberg; which seemed to encrease, in size and elevation as we continued to leave it in the rear. The country, also, on the other side of the _Neckhar_, was mountainous, wooded, and picturesque: the commencement of that chain of hills, which, extending towards _Mayence_ and _Cologne_, form the favourite and well known scenery which Englishmen delight to visit. As my eye ran along this magnificent range, I could not but feel something approaching to deep regret ... that _other_ causes, besides those of the lateness of the season, operated in preventing me from pursuing my course in that direction. It was impossible ... however I might have wished to visit the cities where _Fust_ and _Schoeffher_ and _Ulric Zel_ are supposed to lie entombed, and where the FIRST PRODUCTIONS OF THE PRESS were made public--it was impossible for me to do otherwise than to make Manheim the _colophon_ of my bibliographical excursion. The glass had been _turned_ for some time past, and the sand was fast running out. It was rather late when we drove to the _Golden Fleece_ at Manheim, the best inn in the town--and situated in a square, which, when we visited it, was filled by booths: it being fair time. With difficulty we got comfortable lodgings, so extremely crowded was the inn. The court-yard was half choked up with huge casks of Rhenish wine, of different qualities; most of them destined for England--and all seemed to be agitation and bustle. The first night of my arrival was a night of mixed pleasure and pain, by the receipt of nearly a dozen letters from Vienna, Munich, Stuttgart, and London, collectively: the whole of which had been purposely directed to this place. The contents of the Stuttgart letter have been already detailed to the reader.[182] The first object of my visitation at Manheim, on the morrow, was the house of DOM. ARTARIA--known, throughout the whole of Germany, as the principal mercantile house for books, prints, and pictures.[183] With these objects of commerce, was united that of _banking_: forming altogether an establishment of equal prosperity and respectability. The house is situated in the principal square, at the corner of one of the streets running into it. It has a stone front, and the exterior is equally as attractive in appearance, as the interior is from substantial hospitality. The civility, the frankness, the open-heartedness of my reception here was, if possible, more warm and encouraging than in any previous place in Germany; and what rendered the whole perfectly delightful, was, the thorough English-like appearance of every thing about me. Books, prints, pictures--and household furniture of every description--bespoke the judicious and liberal taste of the owner of the mansion; while the large and regular supplies of letters and despatches, every morning, gave indication of a brisk and opulent commerce. It so happened that, the very first morning of my visit to M. Artaria, there arrived trucks, filled with boxes and bales of goods purchased at the Frankfort fair--which had not been long over. In some of these ponderous cases, were pictures of the old masters; in others, _prints_.. chiefly from Paris and London,[184] and principally from the house of Messrs. Longman and Co. in Paternoster row. Among these latter, was a fine set of the _Bibliotheca Topographica Britannica,_ in ten volumes, 4to. bound in russia--which had been bespoke of M. Artaria by some Bavarian Count: and which must have cost that Count very little short of 120 guineas. The shelves of the front repository were almost wholly filled with English books, in the choicest bindings; and dressed out to catch and captivate the susceptible _bibliomaniac_, in a manner the most adroit imaginable. To the left, on entrance, were two rooms filled with choice paintings; many of them just purchased at the Frankfort fair. Some delicious Flemish pictures, among which I particularly noticed a little _Paul Potter_--valued at five hundred guineas--and some equally attractive Italian performances, containing, among the rest, a most desirable and genuine portrait of _Giovanni Bellini_--valued at one hundred and fifty guineas--were some of the principal objects of my admiration. But, more interesting than either, in my humble judgment, and yet not divested of a certain vexatious feeling, arising from an ignorance of the original--was a portrait, painted in oil, of the size of life, quite in the manner of _Hans Holbein_ ... yet with infinitely more warmth and power of carnation-tint. It was alive--and looked you through, as you entered the room. Few galleries, of portraits contain a more perfect specimen of the painting of the times. For the original, I believe, M. Artaria asked three hundred guineas.[185] The purse and table of M. Artaria were as open and as richly furnished as were his repositories of books and pictures; and I was scolded because I had not made _his house_ my head quarters during my residence at Manheim. I dined with him, however, twice out of the four days of my stay; and was indifferent to plays and public places of resort, in the conversation and company which I found at his house. Yet it was during the circulation of his double-quart bottles of old Rhenish wine--distributed with a liberality not to be exceeded by the Benedictines at the monastery at Göttwic, and yet more exquisite and choice in its flavour--that the gallant host poured forth the liberal sentiments which animated a bosom... grateful to providence for the success that had crowned his steadily and well directed labours! I never saw a man upon whom good fortune sat more comfortably, or one whom it was so little likely to spoil. Half of my time was spent in the house of M. Artaria, because there I found the kind of society which I preferred--and which contained a mixture of the antiquary and collector, with the merchant and man of the world. After this, who shall say that a fac-simile of his Autograph (now that he is NO MORE!) can be unacceptable even to the most fastidious. [Illustration] Among the antiquaries, were Messrs. TRAITEUR and KOCH. The former had been public librarian at Munich; and related to me the singular anecdote of having picked up the _first Mentz Bible_, called the _Mazarine_, for a few francs at Nancy. M. Traiteur is yet enthusiastic in his love of books, and shewed me the relics of what might have been a curious library. He has a strange hypothesis, that the art of printing was invented at _Spire;_ on account of a medal having been struck there in 1471, commemorative of that event; which medal was found during the capture of that place about two centuries ago. He fixed a very high price--somewhere about forty pounds--upon the medal; which, however, I never saw. He hoped (and I hope so too, for his own sake) that the Prince Royal of Bavaria would offer him that sum for it, to enrich his collection at Munich. M. Traiteur talked largely of a German book in his possession, with the express date of 1460; but though I was constantly urging him to shew it to me, he was not able to put his hand upon it. I bought of him, however, about ten pounds worth of books, among which was the _Life of St. Goar _, printed by _Schoeffher_ in 1481, quarto--the date of which had been artfully altered to 1470--by scratching out the final xi. This was not the knavery of the vender. M. Traiteur _offered_ me the _Tewrdanckhs_ of 1517, upon paper, for ten pounds: a sum, much beyond what I considered to be its real worth--from the copy having been half bound, and a good deal cropt. He was incessant in his polite attentions to me. M. Koch had been, if he be not yet, a grocer; but was so fond of rare old books, that he scarcely ever visited his canisters and sugar-loaves. I bought some very curious little pieces of him, to the amount of ten or twelve guineas: among which, was the strange and excessively rare tract, in Latin and German, entitled _De Fide Concubinarum in Sacerdotes_, of which a very particular account appears in the _Bibliographical Decameron_, vol. i. p. 229, 235. His simplicity of manners and friendliness of disposition were equally attractive; and I believe if he had possessed the most precious Aldine Classics, upon vellum, I could have succeeded in tempting him to part with them. The town of Manheim is large, neat, and populous; containing 20,000 souls. The streets run generally at right angles, and are sufficiently airy and wide. But, compared with the domestic architecture of Augsburg, Munich, and Vienna, the houses are low, small, and unornamented. The whole place has much the appearance of a handsome provincial town in England. There are gardens and public walks; but the chief of these is connected with the old red-stone palace of the former Elector Palatine. The Rhine terminates these walks on one side; and when I visited them, which was twice during my stay, that river was running with a rapid and discoloured current. The Rhine is broad here; but its banks are tame. A mound is raised against it, in some parts, to prevent partial overflows, and a fine terrace crowns its summits. A bridge of boats, over which you pass into France, is immediately in view. Upon the whole, these gardens, which seem to be laid out in the English fashion, and which are occasionally varied by some pleasing serpentine walks, are left in a sad state of neglect. The breeze from the river plays freely along the osiers and willows, with which its banks are plentifully planted; and I generally felt refreshed by half an hour's walk upon the broad, dry, gravel terrace, which comes close up to the very windows of the palace. The palace itself is of an enormous size--but is now bereft of every insignia of royalty. It is chiefly (as I understood) a depôt for arms. I ought to mention, among the social gratifications, of which I partook at Manheim, that arising from the kind attentions of M. ACKERMANN; a gentleman, retired from business, and residing in the place or square:--devoting the evening of a bachelor's life to the amusement resulting from a small but well chosen collection of coins and medals. He shewed me several of surprising delicacy and finish ... more especially of the sixteenth century, executed at Nuremberg--and tempted me to become a purchaser of the _Gold Royal_ of our _Edward IV._, for which I offered him five louis. As he thought himself handsomely paid, he presented me, in addition, with a beautiful silver medal of the sixteenth century--struck at Nuremberg--of which particular mention has been made in a preceding, page.[186] One of my visits to M. Ackermann was diversified by the sight of a profusion of fine grapes, of both colours, which had been just gathered from his garden--within the suburbs of the town:--where, indeed, a number of finely trimmed gardens, belonging to the citizens of Manheim, are kept in the highest state of cultivation. The vintage had now set through-out Germany and France; and more delicious grapes than those presented to me by M.A., could seldom be partaken of. Yet I know not if they were quite equal to those of Ratisbon and Heilbrunn. Passing along a very extensive vineyard, we stopped--requesting the valet to alight, and try to procure us some of the tempting fruit in view ... in order to slake our thirst during a hot journey. In a second he disappeared, and in a minute reappeared--with a bunch of black grapes--so large, full, and weighty ... that I question if Van Huysum or De Heem ever sat down to such a model for the exercise of their unrivalled pencils. The juice of this bunch was as copious and delicious as the exterior was downy and inviting. We learnt, however, that these little acts of depredation were not always to be committed with impunity; for that, in the middle of extensive fields, when the grape was ripe enough to be gathered, watch-boxes were placed--and keepers within these boxes were armed with carbines, loaded with something more weighty than _powder_! It only remains to mention, that, having left particular directions with the house of M. Artaria, to forward all _the_ cases which had been consigned to me, at their own house, from Vienna and Nuremberg, to that of Messrs. Arch and Co., booksellers, Cornhill, I had nothing to do but renew my letter of credit, and pass over the Rhine into France. I started immediately after dinner, from M. Artaria's house; horses having been brought to the door. MANHEIM TO PARIS. About four o'clock we passed over the bridge of boats, across the Rhine, and changed horses at _Ogersheim_ and _Spire_, sleeping at _Germezsheim_. The Rhine flows along the meadows which skirt the town of Spire; and while the horses were changing, we took a stroll about the cathedral. It is large, but of a motley style of architecture--and, in part, of a Moorish cast of character. Nothing but desolation appears about its exterior. The roof is sunk, and threatens to fall in every moment. No service (I understood) was performed within--but in a contiguous garden were the remains of a much older edifice, of an ecclesiastical character. Around, however, were the traces of devastation and havoc--the greater part arising from the bullets and cannon balls of the recent campaigns. It was impossible, however, for a _typographical antiquary_ to pass through this town, without feeling some sensations approaching to a sort of pleasing melancholy: for HERE were born the TWO SPIRAS--or _John and Vindelin de Spira_--who introduced the art of printing into Venice. I do not suppose that there exists any relic of domestic architecture here old enough to have been contemporaneous with the period of their births. The journey to Paris, through the route we took, was such--till we reached _St. Avold_, about two hundred and fifty English miles from the capital--as is never likely to induce me to repeat the attempt. The continuation of the chain of mountains called the _Vosges_, running northerly from Strasbourg downwards--renders the road wearisome, and in parts scarcely passable--as the government has recently paid no attention to its reparation. _Landau_, _Weissenbourg_, and _Bitche_ are the principal fortified towns; the latter, indeed, boasts of a commanding fort--upon a very elevated piece of ground, ranked among the more successful efforts of Vauban. The German language continued chiefly to be spoken among the postilions and lower orders, till we left _Forbach_ for _St. Avold_. At _Landau_, about three hundred and sixty miles from Paris, I parted with my valet--- for Strasbourg; under the impression that he would be glad to resume his acquaintance with me, on any future occasion: at the same time he seemed to long to be taken with us to _London_--a city, of all others, he said, he was desirous of seeing. He had also half imbibed the notion that its streets were paved with gold. _Metz_ is a noble city: finely situated, strongly fortified, and thickly inhabited. The _Moselle_ encircles a portion of it in a very picturesque manner. The inn, called the _Cheval Blanc_, should rather be that of _Cheval Noir_--if it take its epithet from the colour of the interior--for a dirtier hotel can scarcely exist. It was a fine moonlight night when we left Metz, on a Sunday, resolving to sleep two stages on the road. The next day we dined at _Dombasle_, a stage beyond _Verdun_; and were within about seventy miles of _Chalons sur Marne_. The vintage and the fruits of Autumn were now rich and abundant on all sides. The fields were all purple, and the orchards all red and gold. Wine casks, stained with the gushing juice, met us between every stage; while on the right hand and left, we saw the women walking beneath their perpendicular baskets, laden with the most bountiful produce of the vineyard. Such a year of plenty had hardly been remembered within the oldest memory. Mean time, the song and the roundelay were heard from all quarters; and between _Dombasle_ and _Clermont_, as we ascended a wooded height, with the sun setting in a flame of gold, in front--we witnessed a rural sight, connected with the vintage, which was sufficient to realise all the beautiful paintings ever executed by _Watteau_ and _Angelis_. It was late when we reached _Chalons_. The next day, we started for _Rheims_, and stopped at _Sillery_ in our way--the last stage on that side of it. The day was really oppressive--although we were in the middle of October. At Sillery we drank some Champagne--for which it is famous--the produce of the same year's vintage. It had not been made a fortnight--and tasted rather sharp and strong. This, we were triumphantly told, was the sure test of its turning out excellent. We were infinitely delighted with Rheims, more especially with THE CATHEDRAL. The western porches--and particularly that on the north side--are not less beautifully, than they are elaborately, sculptured. The interior, immediately within the western porches--or rather on the reverse sides of them--presents sculpture of admirable workmanship:--of the fourteenth century. But the porches appeared much lower than I had imagined. In the nave is an isolated roman sculpture,[187] of the lower age, cut in a block of marble--and unconnectedly placed there. This has been engraved in the _Antiquité Expliquée_ of _Montfaucon_. At the further end of the choir, is an elaborately sculptured modern monument--containing many beautiful figures in white marble:--upon the whole, one of the most interesting which I had seen upon the Continent. The upper part of the exterior of the cathedral, on the south side, is very elegantly carved; but the towers are short, and under repair. The lower part of the south exterior of the cathedral is entirely marred, as to picturesque effect, by the recent buildings attached to it. Upon the whole, however, the Cathedral at Rheims is a very pure and interesting specimen of Gothic architecture. Nor must I omit an anecdote connected with its present state of preservation. That it escaped the ravages of the revolution, was owing, as I learnt, to the respect which was paid to the Curé of some neighbouring parish. He came down to the armed multitude, when they were ripe for every species of destruction. He told them--they might take his LIFE ... but entreated them to spare the MOTHER CHURCH. They spared both: but many marks of their devastation are yet seen; and pieces of old sculpture, dragged from their original places of destination, are stuck about in different parts, over shopkeepers' doors. I could have filled a caravan with several curious specimens of this kind:--which would have been joyfully viewed by many a Member of the Society of Antiquaries. The population of Rheims is estimated at about thirty thousand. It appears to be situated in a fertile and picturesque country. As the weather continued not only serene, but almost sultry--and as we began to be weary of packing and unpacking, and sleeping at so many different inns in the route--I resolved upon travelling all night, and pushing on at once for Paris: where our fatigue would have a temporary cessation. I left, therefore, this venerable city about six o'clock in the evening--intending to travel without intermission till I reached my old quarters at the _Hôtel des Colonies_, in the _Rue de Richelieu_. The road is paved in the middle, the whole way to Paris; but we were careful to avoid the centre. In other respects, this road is broad, and has a noble appearance. As we quitted Rheims, and were gaining the height of the first hill, on the Paris side, we turned round to take a farewell view of the venerable cathedral. It will be long ere I forget that view. The moon, now at full, was rising--in unclouded majesty--just above the summit of the old towers of the cathedral. Her orb was clear, pale, and soft; and yet completely irradiated. The towers and western front were in a cold, gray tint: the houses, of inferior dimensions, were shrunk to insignificancy. There was, therefore, nothing but a cloudless sky, a full moon, and the cathedral of Rheims:--objects, upon which the eye rests, and the imagination riots... as ours did ... till a turning of the road shut out the scenery from our view. It was considerably past midnight when I reached _Soissons_--the principal town between Rheims and Paris. I breakfasted at _Dammartin_. About mid-day I entered Paris, and found the hostess of the _Hôtel des Colonies_, (who had been apprised by letter of our intention of returning thither) perfectly disposed to give me a cordial reception, after an absence of about three months. Having settled my affairs, and enjoyed a short repose at Paris of a fortnight, I returned with my companion, by the diligence, to Calais; and landed at Dover within about six months, and a half of my departure from Brighton to Dieppe. Although my tour was carried on in the most favourable of seasons--and with every sort of comfort, and attention arising from letters of recommendation, and hospitable receptions in consequence--yet I had undergone, from a constant state of excitement and occupation, a great deal of bodily and mental fatigue; and I question if poor Park, ... had it pleased Providence to have allowed him to re-visit his native shore... would have retouched BRITISH EARTH with greater joy than I experienced, when, leaping from the plank, put out from the boat, I planted my foot upon the shingles at DOVER ... ... _reddens landes Domino_.[188] [157] The Emperor of Austria having stopped at this hotel, the landlord asked his permission to call it from henceforth by his _Majesty's name_; which was readily granted. There is an _Album_ here, in which travellers are requested to inscribe their names, and in which I saw the _imperial autograph_. [158] Especially in the striped broad shoes; which strongly resemble those in the series of wood-cuts descriptive of the triumphs of the Emperor Maximilian. [159] There is a lithographic print of it recently published, from the drawing of Quaglio--of the same folio size with the similar prints of Ulm and Nuremburg. The date of the _towers_ of the Cathedral of Ratisbon may be ascertained with the greatest satisfaction. From the _Nuremberg Chronicle_ of 1493 folio xcviii, recto, it appears that when the author (Hartmann Schedel) wrote the text of that book, "the edifice was yet incomplete." This incomplete state, alludes, as I suspect, to the towers; for in the wood-cut, attached to the description, there is a crane fixed upon the top of _one_ of the towers, and a stone being drawn up by it--this tower being one story shorter than the other. Schedel is warm in commendation of the numerous religious establishments, which, in his time, distinguished the city of Ratisbon. Of that of St. Emmeran, the following note supplies some account. [160] Lord Spencer possesses some few early Classics from this monastic library, which was broken up about twenty years ago. His Lordship's copy of the _Pliny of_ 1469, folio, from the same library, is, in all probability, the finest which exists. The MONASTERY OF ST. EMMERAM was doubtless among the "most celebrated throughout Europe." In Hartmann Schedel's time, it was "an ample monastery of the order of St. Benedict." In the _Acta Sanctorum, mense Septembris, vol. vi. Sep_. 22, p. 469, the writer of the life of St. Emmeram supposes the monastery to have been built towards the end of the VIIth century. It was at first situated _without_ the walls,--but was afterwards (A.D. 920) included within the walls. Hansizius, a Jesuit, wrote a work in 1755, concerning the origin and constitution of the monastery--in which he says it was founded by Theodo in 688. The body of St. Emmeram was interred in the church of St. George, by Gaubaldus, in the VIIIth century, which church was reduced to ashes in 1642; but three years afterwards, they found the body of St. Emmeram, preserved in a double chest, or coffin, and afterwards exposed it, on Whitsunday, 1659, in a case of silver--to all the people. [161] He died in April, 1820. [162] [NOT so--as I understand. It is re-established in its previous form.] [163] So I heard him called everywhere--in Austria and Bavaria--by men of every degree and rank in society; and by _professional_ men as frequently as by others. I recollect when at Landshut, standing at the door of the hotel, and conversing with two gallant-looking Bavarian officers, who had spent half their lives in the service: one of them declaring that "he should like to have been _opposed_ to WELLINGTON--to have _died_ even in such opposition, if he could not have vanquished him." I asked him, why? "Because (said he) there is glory in such a contest--for he is, doubtless, the FIRST CAPTAIN OF THE AGE." [164] Dr. Bright, in _Travels in Lower Hungary_, p. 90-3, has an animated passage connected with this once flourishing, but now comparatively drooping, city. In the _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. iii. p. 261-3, will be found an extract or two, from Schedel's _Nuremberg Chronicle_, fol. c., &c. edit. 1493, which may serve to give a notion of the celebrity of Nuremberg about three centuries and a half ago. [165] Or rather, walls which have certain round towers, with a projecting top, at given intervals. These towers have a very strong and picturesque appearance; and are doubtless of the middle part of the fifteenth century. In Hartman Schedel's time, there were as many of them as there were days in the year. [166] [A large and most beautiful print of this interesting Shrine has been published since the above was written. It merits every commendation.] [167] This is a striking and interesting print--and published in England for 1_l._ 1_s._ The numerous figures introduced in it are habited in the costume of the seventeenth century. [168] The author of this work was _Franciscus de Retz_. As a first essay of printing, it is a noble performance. The reader may see the book pretty fully described in the _Bibl. Spenceriana_, vol. iii. p. 489. [169] See p. 320 ante. [170] See a copy of it described at Paris; vol. ii. p. 126. [171] See p. 182 ante. [172] [He is since DEAD.] [173] Only three livraisons of this work have, I believe, been yet published:--under the title of "_Gravures en Bois des anciens maîtres allemands tirées des Planches originales recueillies par_ IULIAN ALBERT DERSCHAU. _Publiées par Rodolphe Zecharie Becker_." The last, however, is of the date of 1816--and as the publisher has now come down to wood-blocks of the date of 1556, it may be submitted whether the work might not advantageously cease? Some of the blocks in this third part seem to be a yard square. [174] They are now in the library of Earl Spencer. [175] I will describe this singular specimen of old art as briefly and perspicuously as I am able. It consists of an impression, in pale black ink--resembling very much that of aquatint, of a subject cut upon copper, or brass, which is about seventeen inches in height (the top being a little cut away) and about ten inches six-eighths in width. The upper part of the impression is in the shape of an obtusely pointed, or perhaps rather semicircular, gothic window--and is filled by involutions of forms or patterns, with great freedom of play and grace of composition: resembling the stained glass in the upper parts of the more elaborated gothic windows of the beginning of the fifteenth century. Round the outer border of the subject, there are seven white circular holes, as if the metal from which the impression was taken, had been _nailed up_ against a wall--and these blank spots were the result of the aperture caused by the space formerly occupied by the nails. Below, is the subject of the crucifixion. The cross is ten inches high: the figure of Christ, without the glory, six inches: St. John is to the left, and the mother of Christ to the right of the cross; and each of these figures is about four inches high. The drawing and execution of these three figures, are barbarously puerile. To the left of St. John is a singular appearance of the _upper_ part of _another_ plate, running at right angles with the principal, and composed also in the form of the upper portion of a gothic window. To the right of the virgin, and of the plate, is the "staggering" date abovementioned. It is thus: M.cccc.xxx. This date is fixed upon the stem of a tree, of which both the stem and the branches above appear to have been _scraped_, in the copper, almost _white_--for the sake of introducing the inscription, or _date_. The date, moreover, has a very suspicious look, in regard to the execution of the letters of which it is composed. As to the _paper_, upon which the impression is taken, it has, doubtless, much of the look of old paper; but not of that particular kind, either in regard to _tone_ or _quality_, which we see in the prints of Mechlin, Schoen, or Albert Durer. But what gives a more "staggering aspect" to the whole affair is, that the worthy Derschau had _another_ copy of this _same_ impression, which he sold to Mr. John Payne, and which is now in the highly curious collection of Mr. Douce. This was fortunate, to say the least. The copy purchased by myself, is now in the collection of Earl Spencer. [176] I should add, that the _dotted_ manner of executing this old print, may be partly seen in that at page 280 of vol. iii. of the second edition of this work; but still more decidedly in the old prints pasted within the covers of the extraordinary copy of the _Mazarine Bible_, UPON VELLUM, once in the possession of Messrs. Nicol, booksellers to his late Majesty, and now in that of Henry Perkins, Esq. [177] _Travels in Lower Hungary_, 1818, 4to. p.93. [178] _Buchhandler_ is bookseller: and _Antiquar_ a dealer in old books. In Nuremberg, families exist for centuries in the same spot. I.A. ENDTER, one of the principal booksellers, resides in a house which his family have occupied since the year 1590. My intercourse was almost entirely with M. Lechner--one of the most obliging and respectable of his fraternity at Nuremberg. [179] [Now of Henrietta Street Covent Garden. As is a sturdy oak, of three centuries growth, compared with a sapling of the last season's transplanting, so is the business of Mr. Bohn, NOW, compared with what it was when the _above_ notice was written.] [180] It is either 1607, or 1609. [181] The reputation of the University of Heidelberg, which may contain 500 students, greatly depends upon that of the professors. The students are generally under twenty years of age. Their dress and general appearance is very picturesque. The shirt collar is open, the hair flowing, and a black velvet hat or cap, of small and square dimensions, placed on one side, gives them a very knowing air. One young man in particular, scarcely nineteen from his appearance, displayed the most beautiful countenance and figure which I had ever beheld. He seemed to be _Raphael_ or _Vandyke_ revived. [182] See note at page 49-51. [183] Since March 1819, called the firm of ARTARIA and FONTAINE. [184] Among the prints recently imported from the _latter_ place, was the whole length of the DUKE OF WELLINGTON, engraved by Bromley, from the painting of Sir Thomas Lawrence. I was surprised when M. Artaria told me that he had sold _fifty copies_ of this print--to his Bavarian and Austrian customers. In a large line engraving, of the Meeting of the Sovereigns and Prince Schwartzenberg, after the battle of Leipsic--from the painting of P. Krafft--and published by Artaria and Fontaine in January 1820--it is gratifying to read the name of our SCOTT--as that of the engraver of the piece--although it had been _previously_ placed in other hands. [185] [It was brought to England about three years ago, and is YET, I believe, a purchasable article in some Repository. It should at least be _seen_ by the whole tribe of COGNOSCENTI in Pall Mall.] [186] See page 439. [187] The town is said to abound with Roman antiquities; among which is a triumphal arch of the time of Augustus, and an arcade called the _Romulus_. It was at Rheims where the holy _ampoule_, or oil for consecrating the Kings of France was kept--who were usually crowned here. A Jacobin ruffian, of the name of _Ruht_, destroyed this ampoule during the revolution. This act was succeeded by his own self-destruction. [188] CHRISTMAS CAROL: printed by Wynkyn De Worde, 1521, 4to. see _Typog. Antiquities_, vol. ii. p. 251. THE END. PRINTED BY WILLIAM NICOL, AT THE Shakspeare Press, Cleveland Row, St. James's. 
26378	----	THE CARE OF BOOKS London: C. J. CLAY AND SONS, CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE, AVE MARIA LANE, Glasgow: 50, WELLINGTON STREET. [Illustration] Leipzig: F. A. BROCKHAUS. New York: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. Bombay: E. SEYMOUR HALE. [_All Rights reserved._] THE CARE OF BOOKS An Essay on the Development of Libraries and their Fittings, from the earliest times to the end of the Eighteenth Century By JOHN WILLIS CLARK, M.A., F.S.A. Registrary of the University and formerly Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge CAMBRIDGE at the University Press 1901 Cambridge: PRINTED BY J. AND C. F. CLAY, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS. FRANCISCO AIDANO GASQUET MONACHO BENEDICTINO D.D. MAGISTRO DISCIPULUS PREFACE. When engaged in editing and completing _The Architectural History of the University and Colleges of Cambridge_, I devoted much time and attention to the essay called _The Library_. The subject was entirely new; and the more I looked into it, the more convinced did I become that it would well repay fuller investigation than was then possible. For instance, I felt certain that the Customs affecting monastic libraries would, if one could only discover them, throw considerable light on collegiate statutes relating to the same subject. The _Architectural History_ having been published, I had leisure to study libraries from my new point of view; and, while thus engaged, I fortunately met with the admirable paper by Dom Gasquet which he modestly calls _Some Notes on Medieval Monastic Libraries_. This brief essay--it occupies only 20 pages--opened my eyes to the possibilities that lay before me, and I gladly place on record here the debt I owe to the historian to whom I have dedicated this book. When I had the honour of delivering the Rede Lecture before the University of Cambridge in June 1894, I attempted a reconstruction of the monastic library, shewing its relationship, through its fittings, to the collegiate libraries of Oxford and Cambridge; and I was also able, following the example set by Dom Gasquet in the above-mentioned essay, to indicate the value of illuminated manuscripts as illustrating the life of a medieval student or scribe. In my lectures as Sandars Reader in Bibliography, delivered before the University of Cambridge in 1900, I developed the subject still further, extending the scope of my enquiries so as to include the libraries of Greece and Rome. In writing my present book I have availed myself freely of the three works above mentioned. At the same time I have incorporated much fresh material; and I am glad to take this opportunity of stating, that, with the single exception of the Escõrial, I have personally examined and measured every building which I have had occasion to describe; and many of the illustrations are from my own sketches. I call my book an _Essay_, because I wish to indicate that it is only an attempt to deal, in a summary fashion, with an extremely wide and interesting subject--a subject, too, which might easily be subdivided into separate heads each capable of more elaborate treatment. For instance, with regard to libraries in Religious Houses, I hope to see a book written, dealing not merely with the way in which the books were cared for, but with the subjects most generally studied, as indicated to us by the catalogues which have survived. A research such as I have had to undertake has naturally involved the co-operation of numerous librarians and others both in England and on the Continent. From all these officials I have experienced unfailing courtesy and kindness, and I beg them to accept this collective expression of my gratitude. To some, however, I am under such particular obligations, that I wish to mention them by name. In the first place I have to thank my friends Dr Jackson of Trinity College, Dr Sandys of S. John's College, Dr James of King's College, and F. J. H. Jenkinson, M.A., University Librarian, for their kind help in reading proofs and making suggestions. Dr Sandys devoted much time to the revision of the first chapter. As my work deals largely with monastic institutions it is almost needless to say that I have consulted and received efficient help from my old friend W. H. St John Hope, M.A., Assistant Secretary to the Society of Antiquaries. My researches in Rome were made easy to me by the unfailing kindness and ready help accorded on every occasion by Father C. J. Ehrle, S.J., Prefect of the Vatican Library. My best thanks are also due to Signor Rodolfo Lanciani, to Professor Petersen of the German Archeological Institute, Rome, and to Signor Guido Biagi of the Biblioteca Laurenziana, Florence. At Milan Monsignor Ceriani of the Ambrosian Library was so kind as to have the library photographed for my use. The courteous officials who administer the great libraries of Paris with so much ability, have assisted me in all my researches. I wish specially to thank in this place M. Léopold Delisle and M. Léon Dorez of the Bibliothèque Nationale; M. A. Franklin of the Bibliothèque Mazarine; M. H. Martin of the Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal; and M. A. Peraté, Sous-Conservateur du Château de Versailles. I have also to thank Señor Ricardo Velasquez for his beautiful elevation of the bookcases in the Escõrial Library; Father J. van den Gheyn, S.J., of the Royal Library, Brussels, for his trouble in shewing me, and allowing me to have photographed, several MSS. from the library under his charge; my friends Mr T. G. Jackson, R.A., Architect, for lending me his section of Bishop Cobham's library at Oxford; E. W. B. Nicholson, M.A., Librarian, and Falconer Madan, M.A., Sub-Librarian, in the Bodleian Library, for information respecting the building and its contents; Mr F. E. Bickley of the British Museum for much help in finding and examining MSS.; and Lionel Cust, M.A., Director of the National Portrait Gallery, for general direction and encouragement. Messrs Macmillan have allowed me to use three illustrations which appear in the first chapter; Mr Murray has given the same permission for the woodcut of the carrells at Gloucester; and Messrs Blades for the representation of James Leaver's book-press. Lastly I wish to thank the staff of the University Press for using their best efforts to produce the work rapidly and well, and for many acts of personal kindness to myself. JOHN WILLIS CLARK. SCROOPE HOUSE, CAMBRIDGE, _September 23rd, 1901._ CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. Introduction. Assyrian Record-Rooms. Libraries in Greece, Alexandria, Pergamon, Rome. Their size, use, contents, and fittings. Armaria or presses. The Vatican Library of Sixtus V. a type of an ancient Roman library 1 CHAPTER II. Christian libraries connected with churches. Use of the apse. Monastic communities. S. Pachomius. S. Benedict and his successors. Each House had a library. Annual audit of books. Loan on security. Modes of protection. Curses. Prayers for donors. Endowment of libraries. Use of the cloister. Development of Cistercian book-room. Common press. Carrells 61 CHAPTER III. Increase of monastic collections. S. Riquier, Bobbio, Durham, Canterbury. Books kept in other places than the cloister. Expedients for housing them at Durham, Citeaux, and elsewhere. Separate libraries built in fifteenth century at Durham, S. Albans, Citeaux, Clairvaux, etc. Gradual extension of library at S. Germain des Près. Libraries attached to Cathedrals. Lincoln, Salisbury, Wells, Noyon, Rouen, etc. 101 CHAPTER IV. The fittings of monastic libraries and of collegiate libraries probably identical. Analysis of some library-statutes. Monastic influence at the Universities. Number of books owned by Colleges. The collegiate library. Bishop Cobham's library at Oxford. Library at Queens' College, Cambridge. At Zutphen. The lectern-system. Chaining of books. Further examples and illustrations 131 CHAPTER V. Recapitulation. Invention of the stall-system. Library of Corpus Christi College, Oxford, taken as a type. System of chaining in Hereford Cathedral. Libraries of Merton College, Oxford, and Clare College, Cambridge. The stall-system copied at Westminster Abbey, Wells, and Durham Cathedrals. This system possibly monastic. Libraries at Canterbury, Dover Priory, Clairvaux 171 CHAPTER VI. The lectern-system in Italy. Libraries at Cesena, at the Convent of S. Mark, Florence, and at Monte Oliveto. Vatican Library of Sixtus IV. Ducal Library at Urbino. Medicean Library, Florence. System of chaining there used. Characteristics of medieval libraries 199 CHAPTER VII. Contrast between the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Suppression of the Monasteries. Commissioners of Edward VI. Subsequent changes in library fittings. S. John's College, and University Library, Cambridge. Queen's College, Oxford. Libraries attached to churches and schools. Chaining in recent times. Chains taken off 245 CHAPTER VIII. The wall-system. This began on the Continent. Library of the Escõrial. Ambrosian Library at Milan. Library of Cardinal Mazarin. Bodleian Library at Oxford. Works and influence of Wren. French conventual libraries of the seventeenth century 267 CHAPTER IX. Private libraries. Abbat Simon and his book-chest. Library of Charles V. of France. Illustrations of this library from illuminated manuscripts. Book-lectern used in private houses. Book-desks revolving round a central screw. Desks attached to chairs. Wall-cupboards. A scholar's room in the fifteenth century. Study of the Duke of Urbino. Library of Margaret of Austria. Library of Montaigne. Conclusion 291 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS FIG. PAGE 1. Plan of the Record-Rooms in the Palace of Assur-bani-pal, King of Nineveh 2 2. Plan of the temple and precinct of Athena, Pergamon; with that of the Library and adjacent buildings 9 3. Plan of the Porticus Octaviæ, Rome. From _Formæ Urbis Romæ Antiguæ_, Berlin, 1896 13 4. Plan of the Forum of Trajan; after Nibby. From Middleton's _Remains of Ancient Rome_ 15 5. Plan of the Stoa of Hadrian, at Athens. From Miss Harrison's _Mythology and Monuments of Ancient Athens_ 17 6. Elevation of a single compartment of the wall of the Library discovered in Rome, 1883. From notes and measurements made by Signor Lanciani and Prof. Middleton 23 7. Plan of the Record-House of Vespasian, with the adjoining structures. From Middleton's _Remains of Ancient Rome_ 26 8. Part of the internal wall of the Record-House of Vespasian. Reduced from a sketch taken in the 16th century by Pirro Ligorio. From _Commissione Archeologica Comunale di Roma_ 26 9. A reader with a roll: from a fresco at Pompeii 28 10. Book-box or capsa 30 11. A Roman taking down a roll from its place in a Library 35 12. Desk to support a roll while it is being read 36 13. A Roman reading a roll in front of a press (_armarium_). From a photograph of a sarcophagus in the garden of the Villa Balestra, Rome _To face_ 38 14. Press containing the four Gospels. From a mosaic above the tomb of the Empress Galla Placidia at Ravenna 39 15. Ezra writing the Law. Frontispiece to the _Codex Amiatinus_. In the background is a press with open doors. The picture was probably drawn in the middle of the sixth century A.D. _Frontispiece_ 16. Great Hall of the Vatican Library, looking west _To face_ 47 17. A single press in the Vatican Library, open. From a photograph _To face_ 48 18. Rough ground-plan of the Great Hall of the Vatican Library, to illustrate the account of the decoration _To face_ 60 19. Press in the cloister at the Cistercian Abbey of Fossa Nuova 83 20. Ground-plan and elevation of the book-recesses in the cloister of Worcester Cathedral 84 21. Ground-plan of part of the Abbey of Fossa Nuova. To shew the book-room and book-press, and their relations to adjoining structures: partly from Enlart's _Origines Françaises de l'Architecture Gothique en Italie_, partly from my own measurements 85 22. Ground-plan of part of Kirkstall Abbey, Yorkshire 86 23. Ground-plan of part of Furness Abbey. From Mr W. H. St J. Hope's plan 88 24. Arches in south wall of Church at Beaulieu Abbey, Hampshire, once possibly used as book-presses _To face_ 89 25. The cloister, Westminster Abbey. From Mr Micklethwaite's plan of the buildings 91 26. Part of the ancient press in Bayeux Cathedral, called _Le Chartrier de Bayeux_. From a photograph _To face_ 94 27. Press in the church at Obazine, Central France. From a photograph _To face_ 95 28. Ground-plan of one of the windows in the cloister of Durham Cathedral 96 29. Range of carrells in the south cloister at Gloucester Cathedral. From Mr Murray's _Handbook to the Western Cathedrals_ 97 30. A single carrell, Gloucester Cathedral _To face_ 98 31. Library at Durham, built by Prior Wessyngton about 1446 107 32. Library of the Grey Friars House, London, commonly called Christ's Hospital. From Trollope's _History of Christ's Hospital_ _To face_ 109 33. Bird's-eye view of part of the Monastery of Citeaux. From a drawing dated 1718 110 34. Ground-plan of part of the Monastery of Citeaux. From a plan dated 1718 111 35. Ground-plan of the Library at Citeaux 111 36. Part of the Abbey of S. Germain des Près, Paris. From a print dated 1687; reproduced in _Les Anciennes Bibliothèques de Paris_, par Alf. Franklin, Vol. I. p. 126 115 37. Part of the Abbey of S. Germain des Près, Paris. From a print in _Histoire de l'Abbaye Royale de Saint Germain des Prez_, par Dom Jacques Bouillart, fol. Paris, 1724, lettered "l'Abbaye ... telle qu'elle est présentement" 116 38. Plan of the Old Library, Lincoln Cathedral 119 39. Interior of the Old Library, Lincoln Cathedral _To face_ 118 40. Plan of the Cloister, etc., Lincoln Cathedral 120 41. Exterior of the Library at Salisbury Cathedral, looking north-east _To face_ 122 42. Plan of the Library in Wells Cathedral 122 43. Plan of the Library at Lichfield Cathedral. From _History and Antiquities of Staffordshire_, by Stebbing Shaw, fol. Lond. 1798, Vol. II. P. 244 123 44. Chapter-Library at Noyon, France _To face_ 124 45. A single pillar of the cloister beneath the Chapter-Library at Noyon. 125 46. Plan of the Library at the south-east angle of the south transept of the Cathedral at Troyes 126 47. Interior of the _Cour des Libraires_, Rouen, shewing the gate of entrance from the street, and the Library _To face_ 130 48. Pembroke College, Cambridge, reduced from Loggan's print, taken about 1688 149 49. Long Section of Old Congregation House and Library, Oxford, looking south. From _The Church of S. Mary the Virgin, Oxford_, by T. G. Jackson, Architect 150 50. Ground-plan of the Library at Queens' College, Cambridge 152 51. Elevation of book-desk in Library of Queens' College, Cambridge 152 52. Ground-plan of the Library at Zutphen 154 53. General view of the north side of the Library attached to the church of S. Walburga at Zutphen _To face_ 155 54. Desk and reader on the south side of the Library at Zutphen. From a photograph 155 55. Elevations of (A) one of the bookcases in the Library at Zutphen; (B) one of those in the Library at Queens' College, Cambridge 156 56. End of iron bar: Zutphen 156 57. End of one of the desks on the north side of the Library: Zutphen. 157 58. Piece of chain, shewing the ring attached to the bar, the swivel, and one of the links, actual size: Guildford 158 59. Piece of the iron bar, with chain: Zutphen 159 60. Chained book, from a Dominican House at Bamberg, South Germany 159 61. Single desk in the Old Library: Lincoln Cathedral 161 62. Elevations of (A) one of the bookcases in the Library at Zutphen; (B) one of those in the Library at Queens' College, Cambridge; (C) one of those in the Library of Lincoln Cathedral 163 63. Interior of a Library. From a MS. of a French translation of the first book of the _Consolation of Philosophy_ by Boethius, written in Flanders towards the end of the fifteenth century 164 64. Library of the College de Navarre, Paris, now destroyed _To face_ 165 65. General view of the Library at Trinity Hall, Cambridge _To face_ 169 66. Elevation of a book-desk and seat in the Library of Trinity Hall, Cambridge 168 67. Lock at end of book-desk: Trinity Hall 169 68. A French Library of 1480. From MS. 164 in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge _To face_ 169 69. The interior of the Library of the University of Leyden. From a print by Jan Cornelis Woudanus, dated 1610 _To follow_ 170 70. Bookcases and seat in the Library at Corpus Christi College, Oxford. From a photograph taken in 1894 _To face_ 173 71. Elevation of one bookcase in the Library of Corpus Christi College, Oxford 173 72. Bookcase in the Chapter Library, Hereford Cathedral. From a sketch taken in 1876 175 73. Part of a bookcase in the Chapter Library, Hereford _To face_ 175 74. Part of a single volume, shewing the clasp, the ring for the chain, and the mode of attaching it: Hereford 175 75. A single volume, standing on the shelf, with the chain attached to the iron bar: Hereford 176 76. Iron bar and socket, closed to prevent removal of the bar: Hereford 176 77. Iron bar, with part of the iron plate or hasp which is secured by the lock and keeps the bar in place: Hereford 177 78. Piece of chain, shewing the swivel: Hereford 178 79. Hook to hold up the desk: Bodleian Library, Oxford 179 80. Exterior of the Library at Merton College, Oxford, as seen from 'Mob Quadrangle.' From a photograph by H. W. Taunt, 1899 _To face_ 179 81. Ground-plan of the Library at Merton College, Oxford 180 82. Interior of the West Library at Merton College, Oxford. From a photograph by H. W. Taunt, 1899 _To face_ 181 83. Bookcase in the West Library of Merton College, Oxford. From a photograph by H. W. Taunt, 1899 _To face_ 181 84. Elevation of a bookcase and seat in the West Library at Merton College, Oxford. Measured and drawn by T. D. Atkinson, Architect 182 85. Stall-end in the Library of Clare College, Cambridge 187 86. Ring for attachment of chain, Wells 189 87. Bookcases in the Library of Durham Cathedral. From a photograph _To face_ 189 88. Conjectural plan of the Library over the Prior's Chapel at Christ Church, Canterbury 191 89. Sketch of the probable appearance of a bookcase, and a reader's seat, in the Library at Christ Church, Canterbury 193 90, 91. Ground-plan and section of Library at Cesena 200 92. General view of the Library at Cesena. From a photograph _To face_ 201 93. Bookcases at west end of south side of Library, Cesena 201 94. Part of a bookcase, at Cesena to shew the system of chaining 202 95. Piece of a chain, Cesena 203 96. Chained book at Ghent 204 97. Ground-plan of part of the Vatican Palace, shewing the building of Nicholas V., as arranged for library purposes by Sixtus IV., and its relation to the surrounding structures. From Letarouilly, _Le Vatican_, fol. Paris, 1882, as reproduced by M. Fabre 210 98. Ground-plan of the rooms in the Vatican Palace fitted up for library-purpose by Sixtus IV _To follow_ 208 99. Interior of the Library of Sixtus IV., as shewn in a fresco in the Ospedale di Santo Spirito, Rome. From a photograph taken by Danesi _To face_ 225 100. The library-settles (_spalliere_) once used in the Vatican Library of Sixtus IV., and now in the Appartamento Borgia. From a photograph _To face_ 228 101. Bookcases in the Medicean Library, Florence 235 102. Copy, slightly reduced, of a sketch by Michelangelo for one of the bookcases in the Medicean Library, Florence 236 103. Elevation of desks at Cesena 237 104. Elevation of desks in the Medicean Library: Florence 237 105. A book in the Medicean Library, to shew attachment of chain 238 106. Piece of chain in the Medicean Library, of the actual size 238 107. Diagram to explain the ironwork at the Medicean Library 239 108. Outline of bolt forming part of ironwork 239 109. West oriel of the Library at S. John's College, Cambridge 249 110. Bookcases in the Library of S. John's College, Cambridge 250 111. Bookcases in the Library of Peterhouse, Cambridge 252 112. Bookcases in the south room of the University Library, Cambridge. _To face_ 253 113. Bookcase in the old Library of King's College, Cambridge, made with the bequest of Nicholas Hobart, 1659 255 114. Ground-plan of Library, Grantham, Lincolnshire 257 115. Ring and link of chain: Wimborne Minster 261 116. Bookpress in the school at Bolton, Lancashire. From _Bibliographical Miscellanies_ by William Blades _To face_ 264 117. General view of the Library of the Escõrial, looking north _To face_ 269 118. Bookcases in the Library of the Escõrial on an enlarged scale 268 119. Elevation of a bookcase, and section of a desk, in the Library of the Escõrial 270 120. Ground-plan of the Ambrosian Library at Milan 271 121. Interior of the Ambrosian Library at Milan. From a photograph taken in 1899 _To face_ 271 122. Bookcases, in the Bibliothèque Mazarine, Paris. From a photograph by Dujardin, 1898 _To face_ 273 123. Elevation of a bookcase and section of a desk in the Bibliothèque Mazarine, Paris 274 124. A portion of the bookcases set up in the eastern wing of the Bodleian Library, Oxford, built 1610-1612. From Loggan's _Oxonia Illustrata_, 1675 275 125. Entrance to Wren's Library at Lincoln Cathedral, with part of the bookcase which lines the north wall _To face_ 277 126. Part of Wren's elevation of the east side of the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, with a section of the north range of Nevile's Court, shewing the door to the Library from the first floor 278 127. Elevation of one bay on the east side of the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, drawn to scale from the existing building 279 128. Interior of the north-east corner of the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, shewing the bookcases, table, desk and stools, as designed by Sir Christopher Wren 281 129. Ground-plan of Library and adjacent parts of S. Paul's Cathedral, London. Designed by Sir Christopher Wren 283 130. Sir Christopher Wren's Library at S. Paul's Cathedral, London, looking north-east _To face_ 282 131. Bookcase in the north room of the University Library, Cambridge, designed by James Essex, 1731-1734 286 132. Interior of the Library of the Jesuits at Rheims, now the _Lingerie de l'Hôpital General_ _To face_ 287 133. Ground-plan of the Library of the Jesuits at Rheims 288 134. Simon, Abbat of S. Albans (1167-1183), seated at his book-chest. From MSS. Cotton 293 135. Two men in a library. From a MS. of _Les cas des malheureux nobles hommes et femmes_ in the British Museum 295 136. A Carmelite in his study. From a MS. of Le Miroir Historial in the British Museum _To face_ 296 137. Three musicians in a Library. From a MS. of a French translation of _Valerius Maximus_, in the British Museum 297 138. A bibliomaniac at his desk. From the _Ship of Fools_ 298 139. S. John writing his Gospel. From a MS. _Hours_ in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge 303 140. S. Jerome writing. From an oil painting by Benedetto Bonfigli, in the Church of S. Peter at Perugia _To face_ 304 141. Circular book-desk. From a MS. of _Fais et Gestes du Roi Alexandre_, in the British Museum 304 142. S. Luke writing his Gospel. From the Dunois _Horæ_, a MS. in the possession of H. Y. Thompson, Esq. 305 143. A lady seated in her chair reading. From a MS. written in France, early in the fifteenth century 306 144. Screw-desk. From a fifteenth century MS. in the Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal, Paris 307 145. Hexagonal desk, with central spike, probably for a candle. From a French MS. of _Le Miroir Historial_ 307 146. A lecturer addressing an audience. From a MS. of _Livre des cas des malheureux nobles hommes et femmes_, written in France at end of fifteenth century _To face_ 308 147. S. Mark writing his Gospel. From a MS. _Hours_ written in France in the fifteenth century 309 148. The author of _The Chronicles of Hainault_ in his study (1446) _To face_ 309 149. S. Jerome in his study. From _Les Miracles de Nostre Dame_, written at the Hague in 1456 _To face_ 310 150. A writer with his desk and table. From a MS. of _Le Livre des Propriétès des Choses_ in the British Museum _To face_ 309 151. S. Luke writing his Gospel. MSS. Douce, Bodl. Lib. Oxf., No. 381 311 152. S. Augustine at his desk. From a painting by Fra Filippo Lippi at Florence 312 153. S. Jerome reading. From an oil painting by Catena, in the National Gallery, London _To face_ 313 154. A writer at work. From a French translation of Valerius Maximus, written and illuminated in Flanders in 1479, for King Edward IV. _To face_ 313 155. A scholar's room in the fifteenth century. From a MS. in the Royal Library at Brussels _To face_ 314 156. Dean Boys in his Library, 1622 317 THE CARE OF BOOKS. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION. ASSYRIAN RECORD-ROOMS. LIBRARIES IN GREECE, ALEXANDRIA, PERGAMON, ROME. THEIR SIZE, USE, CONTEXTS, AND FITTINGS. ARMARIA OR PRESSES. THE VATICAN LIBRARY OF SIXTUS V. A TYPE OF AN ANCIENT ROMAN LIBRARY. I propose, in the following Essay, to trace the methods adopted by man in different ages and countries to preserve, to use, and to make accessible to others, those objects, of whatever material, on which he has recorded his thoughts. In this investigation I shall include the position, the size, and the arrangement, of the rooms in which these treasures were deposited, with the progressive development of fittings, catalogues, and other appliances, whether defensive, or to facilitate use. But, though I shall have to trace out these matters in some detail, I shall try to eschew mere antiquarianism, and to impart human interest, so far as possible, to a research which might otherwise exhaust the patience of my readers. Bibliography, it must be understood, will be wholly excluded. From my special point of view books are simply things to be taken care of: even their external features concern me only so far as they modify the methods adopted for arrangement and preservation. I must dismiss the subject-matter of the volumes which filled the libraries of former days with a brevity of which I deeply regret the necessity. I shall point out the pains taken to sort the books under various comprehensive heads; but I shall not enumerate the authors which fall under this or that division. The earliest repositories of books were connected with temples or palaces, either because priests under all civilisations have been _par excellence_ the learned class, while despots have patronised art and literature; or because such a position was thought to offer greater security. [Illustration: Fig. 1. Plan of the Record-Rooms in the Palace of Assur-bani-pal, King of Nineveh.] I will begin with Assyria, where the record-rooms, or we might almost say the library, in the palace of Assur-bani-pal, King of Nineveh, were discovered by Mr Layard in 1850 at Kouyunjik, on the Tigris, opposite Mosul. The plan (fig. 1), taken from Mr Layard's work[1], will shew, better than a long description, the position of these rooms, and their relation to the rest of the building--which is believed to date from about 700 B.C. The long passage (No. XLIX) is one of the entrances to the palace. Passing thence along the narrower passage (No. XLII) the explorers soon reached a doorway (E), which led them into a large hall (No. XXIX), whence a second doorway (F) brought them into a chamber (No. XXXVIII). On the north side of this room were two doorways (G. G), each "formed by two colossal bas-reliefs of Dagon, the fish-god." "The first doorway," says Mr Layard, "guarded by the fish-gods, led into two small chambers opening into each other, and once panelled with bas-reliefs, the greater part of which had been destroyed. I shall call these chambers 'the chambers of records,' for, like 'the house of the rolls' or records, which Darius ordered to be searched for the decree of Cyrus concerning the building of the Temple of Jerusalem[2], they appear to have contained the decrees of the Assyrian kings, as well as the archives of the empire." Mr Layard was led to this conclusion by finding, in these rooms, enormous quantities of inscribed tablets and cylinders of baked clay. "To a height of a foot or more from the floor they were entirely filled with them; some entire, but the greater part broken into many fragments, probably by the falling in of the upper part of the building.... These documents appear to be of various kinds. Many are historical records of wars, and distant expeditions undertaken by the Assyrians; some seem to be royal decrees, and are stamped with the name of a king, the son of Esarhaddon; others again ... contain lists of the gods, and probably a register of offerings made in their temples[3]." So far Mr Layard. Subsequent researches have shewn that these two small rooms--they were 27 feet and 23 feet long respectively, with a uniform breadth of 20 feet--contained the literature as well as the official documents of Assyria. The tablets have been sorted under the following heads: History; Law; Science; Magic; Dogma; Legends: and it has been shewn (1) that there was a special functionary to take charge of them; (2) that they were arranged in series, with special precautions for keeping the tablets forming a particular series in their proper sequence; (3) that there was a general catalogue, and probably a class-catalogue as well[4]. Excavations in other parts of Assyria have added valuable information to Layard's first discovery. Dr Wallis Budge, of the British Museum, whom I have to thank for much kind assistance, tells me that "Kouyunjik is hardly a good example of a Mesopotamian library, for it is certain that the tablets were thrown about out of their proper places when the city was captured by the Medes about B.C. 609. The tablets were kept on shelves.... When I was digging at Derr some years ago we found the what I call 'Record Chamber,' and we saw the tablets lying _in situ_ on slate shelves. There were, however, not many literary tablets there, for the chamber was meant to hold the commercial documents relating to the local temple...." Dr Budge concludes his letter with this very important sentence: "We have no definite proof of what I am going to say now, but I believe that the bilingual[5] lists, which Assur-bani-pal had drawn up for his library at Nineveh, were intended 'for the use of students.'" To this suggestion I would add the following. Does not the position of these two rooms, easily accessible from the entrance to the palace, shew that their contents might be consulted by persons who were denied admission to the more private apartments? And further, does not the presence of the god Dagon at the entrance indicate that the library was under the protection of the deity as well as of the sovereign? As a pendant to these Assyrian discoveries I may mention the vague rumour echoed by Athenæus of extensive libraries collected in the sixth century before our era by Polycrates[6], tyrant of Samos, and Peisistratus, tyrant of Athens, the latter collection, according to Aulus Gellius[7], having been accessible to all who cared to use it. It must be admitted that these stories are of doubtful authenticity; and further, that we have no details of the way in which books were cared for in Greece during the golden age of her literature. This dearth of information is the more tantalizing as it is obvious that private libraries must have existed in a city so cultivated as Athens; and we do, in fact, find a few notices which tell us that such was the case. Xenophon[8], for instance, speaks of the number of volumes in the possession of Euthydemus, a follower of Socrates; and Athenæus records, in the passage to which I have already alluded, the names of several book-collectors, among whom are Euripides and Aristotle. An allusion to the poet's bibliographical tastes has been detected in the scene of _The Frogs_ of Aristophanes, where Æschylus and Euripides are weighing verses against each other in the presence of Dionysus. Æschylus exclaims: [Greek: kai mêket' emoige kat' epos, all' es ton stathmon autos ta paidi', hê gynê, kêphisophôn, embas kathêsthô syllabôn ta biblia, egô de dy' epê tôn emôn erô monon.] Come, no more single lines--let him bring all, His wife, his children, his Cephisophon, His books and everything, himself to boot-- I'll counterpoise them with a couple of lines[9]. With regard to Aristotle Strabo has preserved a tradition that he "was the first who made a collection of books, and taught the kings of Egypt how to arrange a library[10]"--words which may be taken to mean that Aristotle was the first to work out the arrangement of books on a definite system which was afterwards adopted by the Ptolemies at Alexandria. These notices are extremely disappointing. They merely serve to shew that collections of books did exist in Greece; but they give us no indication of either their extent or their arrangement. It was left to the Emperor Hadrian to build the first public library at Athens, to which, as it was naturally constructed on a Roman design, I shall return after I have described those from which it was in all probability imitated. But, if what may be termed Greece in Europe declines to give us information, that other Greece which extended itself to Asia Minor and to Egypt--Greater Greece it would be called in modern times--supplies us with a type of library-organisation which has been of far-reaching influence. After the death of Alexander the Great (B.C. 323) a Greek dynasty, that of the Ptolemies, established itself at Alexandria, and another Greek dynasty at Pergamon. Both were distinguished--like Italian despots of the Renaissance--for the splendour and the culture of their courts, and they rivalled one another in the extent and richness of their libraries; but, if we are to believe Strabo, the library at Pergamon was not begun until the reign of Eumenes II. (B.C. 197-159), or 126 years after that at Alexandria[11]. The libraries at Alexandria (for there were two)--though far more celebrated and more extensive than the library at Pergamon--need not, from my point of view, detain us for more than a moment, for we are told very little about their position, and nothing about their arrangement. The site of the earliest, the foundation of which is ascribed to Ptolemy the Second (B.C. 285-247), must undoubtedly be sought for within the circuit of the royal palace, which was in the fashionable quarter of the city called Brucheion. This palace was a vast enceinte, not a separate building, and, as Strabo, who visited Alexandria 24 B.C., says, Within the precincts of the palace is the Museum. It has a colonnade, a lecture-room, and a vast establishment where the men of letters who share the use of the Museum take their meals together. This College has a common revenue; and is managed by a priest who is over the Museum, an officer formerly appointed by the kings of Egypt, but, at the present time, by the Emperor[12]. That the older of the two libraries must have been in some way connected with these buildings seems to me certain from two considerations. First, a ruler who took so keen an interest in books as Ptolemy, would assuredly have kept his treasures under his own eye; and, secondly, he would hardly have placed them at a distance from the spot where the learned men of Alexandria held their meetings[13]. At some period subsequent to the foundation of Ptolemy's first library, a second, called the daughter of the first[14], was established in connexion with the Temple of Serapis, a magnificent structure in the quarter Rhacôtis, adorned so lavishly with colonnades, statuary, and other architectural enrichments, that the historian Ammianus Marcellinus declares that nothing in the world could equal it, except the Roman Capitol[15]. This brief notice of the libraries of Alexandria shews that the earlier of the two, besides being in a building dedicated to the Muses, was also connected in all probability with a palace, and the second with a temple. If we now turn to Pergamon, we shall find the library associated with the temple and [Greek: temenos] of Athena. The founder selected for the site of his city a lofty and precipitous hill, about a thousand feet above the sea-level. The rocky plateau which forms the summit is divided into three gigantic steps or terraces. On the highest, which occupies the northern end of the hill, the royal palace is believed to have been built. On the next terrace, to the south, was the temple of Athena; and on the third, the altar of Zeus. External to those three groups of buildings, partly on the edge of the hill, partly on its sides, were the rest of the public buildings. The lower slopes were probably occupied in ancient times, as at present, by the houses of the citizens. These magnificent structures, which won for Pergamon the distinction of being "by far the noblest city in Asia minor[16]," were in the main due to Eumenes the Second, who, during his reign of nearly forty years (B.C. 197-159), was enabled, by the wise policy of supporting the Romans, to transform his petty state into a powerful monarchy. The construction of a library is especially referred to him by Strabo[17], and from the statement of Vitruvius that it was built for the delight of the world at large (_in communem delectationem_), we may infer that it was intended to be public[18]. That he was an energetic book-collector, under whose direction a large staff of scribes was perpetually at work, may be gathered from the well-known story that his bibliographical rival at Alexandria, exasperated by his activity and success, conceived the ingenious device of crippling his endeavours by forbidding the exportation of papyrus. Eumenes, however, says the chronicler, was equal to the occasion, and defeated the scheme by inventing parchment[19]. It is probable that Eumenes not only began but completed the library, for in less than a quarter of a century after his death (B.C. 133) the last of his descendants bequeathed the city and state of Pergamon to the Romans. It is improbable that they would do much to increase the library, though they evidently took care of it, for ninety years later, when Mark Antony is said to have given it to Cleopatra, the number of works in it amounted to two hundred thousand[20]. [Illustration: Fig. 2. Plan of the temple and precinct of Athena, Pergamon; with that of the Library and adjacent buildings.] The site of the acropolis of Pergamon was thoroughly explored between 1878 and 1886 at the expense of the German Government; and in the course of their researches the archeologists employed discovered certain rooms which they believe to have been originally appropriated to the library. I have had the accompanying ground-plan (fig. 2) reduced from one of their plates, and have condensed my description of the locality from that given in their work[21]. I have also derived much valuable information from a paper published by Alexander Conze in 1884[22]. Of the temple of Athena only the foundations remain, but its extent and position can be readily ascertained. The enclosure, paved with slabs of marble, was entered at the south-east corner. It was open to the west and to the south, where the ground falls away precipitously, but on the east and north it was bounded by a cloister in two floors. The pillars of this cloister were Doric on the ground-floor, Ionic above. The height of those in the lower range, measured from base to top of capital, was about 16 feet, of those in the upper range about 9 feet. This enclosure had a mean length of about 240 feet, with a mean breadth of 162 feet[23]. The north cloister was 37 feet broad, and was divided down the centre by a row of columns. The east cloister was of about half this width, and was undivided. On the north side of the north cloister, the German explorers found four rooms, which they believe to have been assigned to library purposes. The platform of rock on which these chambers stood was nearly 20 feet above the level of the floor of the enclosure, and they could only be entered from the upper cloister. Of these rooms the easternmost is the largest, being 42 feet long, by 49 feet broad. Westward of it are three others, somewhat narrower, having a uniform width of 39 feet. The easternmost of these three rooms is also the smallest, being only 23 feet long; while the two next have a uniform length of about 33 feet. At the south-west corner of this building, but on a lower level, and not accessible from it, other rooms were found, the use of which is uncertain. We will now return to the eastern room. The foundations of a narrow platform or bench extended along the eastern, northern, and western sides, and in the centre of the northern side there was a mass of stone-work which had evidently formed the base for a statue (fig. 2, A). The discovery of a torso of a statue of Athena[24] in this very room indicated what statue had occupied this commanding position, and also what had probably been the use of the room. This theory was confirmed by the discovery in the north wall of two rows of holes in the stone-work, one above the other, which had evidently been made for the reception of brackets, or battens, or other supports for shelves[25], or some piece of furniture. The lower of these two rows was carried along the east wall as well as along the north wall. Further, stones were found bearing the names of Herodotus, Alcæus, Timotheus of Miletus, and Homer, evidently the designations of portrait-busts or portrait-medallions; and also, two titles of comedies. Lastly, the very position of these rooms in connexion with the colonnade indicates their use. It will be observed that the colonnade on the north side of the area is twice as wide as that on the east side--a peculiarity which is sufficient of itself to prove that it must have been intended for some other purpose than as a mere covered way. But, if it be remembered that libraries in the ancient world were usually connected with colonnades (as was probably the case at the Serapeum at Alexandria, and was certainly the case at Rome, as I shall proceed to shew) a reason is found for this dignified construction, and a strong confirmation is afforded for the theory that the rooms beyond it once contained the famous library. When the Romans had taken possession of Pergamon, those who had charge of the city would become familiar with the library; and it seems to me almost certain that, when the necessity for establishing a public library at Rome had been recognised, the splendid structure at Pergamon would be turned to as a model. But, if I mistake not, Roman architecture had received an influence from Pergamon long before this event occurred. What this was I will mention presently. No public library was established in Rome until the reign of Augustus. Julius Cæsar had intended to build one on the largest possible scale, and had gone so far as to commission Varro to collect books for it[26]; but it was reserved for C. Asinius Pollio, general, lawyer, orator, poet, the friend of Virgil and Horace, to devote to this purpose the spoils he had obtained in his Illyrian campaign, B.C. 39. In the striking words of Pliny "he was the first to make men's talents public property (_ingenia hominum rem publicam fecit_)" The same writer tells us that he also introduced the fashion of decorating libraries with busts of departed authors, and that Varro was the only living writer whose portrait was admitted[27]. Pollio is further credited, by Suetonius, with having built an _atrium libertatis_[28], in which Isidore, a writer of the seventh century, probably quoting a lost work of Suetonius, places the library, with the additional information, that the collection contained Greek as well as Latin books[29]. The work of Pollio is recorded among the acts of generosity which Augustus suggested to others. But before long the emperor turned his own attention to libraries, and enriched his capital with two splendid structures which may be taken as types of Roman libraries,--the library of Apollo on the Palatine Hill, and that in the Campus Martius called after Octavia, sister to the emperor. I will take the latter first. The _Porticus Octaviæ_, or, as it was sometimes called, the _Opera Octaviæ_, must have been one of the most magnificent structures in Rome (fig. 3). It stood in the Campus Martius, near the Theatre of Marcellus, between the Capitoline Hill and the Tiber. A double colonnade surrounded an area which measured 443 feet by 377 feet, with _Jani_, or four-faced archways, at the four corners, and on the side next the Tiber a double hexastyle porch, which, with a few fragments of the colonnade, still exists in a fairly good state of preservation[30]. Within this space were two temples, one of Jupiter, the other of Juno, a _curia_ or hall, in which the Senate frequently met, a _schola_ or "Conversation Hall[31]," and two libraries, the one of Greek, the other of Latin books. The area and buildings were crowded with masterpieces in bronze and marble. [Illustration: Fig. 3. Plan of the Porticus Octaviæ, Rome. From _Formæ Urbis Romæ Antiqua_, Berlin, 1896.] This structure was originally built by Quintus Metellus, about 146 B.C.[32]. One of the temples was due to his own liberality, the other had been erected by Domitius Lepidus, B.C. 179. Now twenty years before, Metellus had fought in a successful campaign against Perseus king of Macedonia, in which the Romans had been assisted by Eumenes II.: and in B.C. 148, as Prætor, he received Macedonia as his province. Is it not possible that on one or other of these occasions he may have visited Pergamon, and, when designing his buildings in Rome, have copied what he had seen there? Again, in B.C. 157, Crates of Mallus, a distinguished grammarian, was sent from Pergamon as ambassador to Rome, and, being laid up there by an accident, gave lectures on grammar, in the course of which he could hardly have failed to mention the new library[33]. The buildings of Metellus were altered, if not entirely rebuilt, by Augustus, B.C. 33, out of the proceeds of his victorious campaign against the Dalmatians; with the additional structures above enumerated. The _schola_ is believed to have stood behind the temples, and the libraries behind the _schola_, with the _curia_ between them[34]. Thus the colonnades, which Metellus had restricted to the two temples, came at last to serve the double purpose for which they were originally intended in connexion with a library as well as with a temple. The temple and area of Apollo on the Palatine Hill, which Augustus began B.C. 36 and dedicated B.C. 28, exhibit an arrangement precisely similar to that of the Porticus Octaviæ. The size was nearly the same[35], and the structures included in the area were intended to serve the same purposes. The temple stood in the middle of a large open peristyle, connected with which were two libraries, one for Greek, the other for Latin books; and between them, used perhaps as a reading-room or vestibule, was a hall in which Augustus occasionally convened the Senate. It contained a colossal statue of Apollo, made of gilt bronze; and on its walls were portrait-reliefs of celebrated writers, in the form of medallions, in the same material[36]. Of the other public libraries of Rome--of which there are said to have been in all twenty-six--I need mention only three as possessing some peculiarity to which I shall have to draw attention. Of these the first was established by Tiberius in his palace, at no great distance from the library of Apollo; the second and third by Vespasian and Trajan in their Fora, connected in the one with the temple of Peace, and in the other with the temple dedicated in honour of Trajan himself. [Illustration: Fig. 4. Plan of the Forum of Trajan; after Nibby.] Of the first two of these libraries we have no information; but in the case of the third we are more fortunate. The Forum of Trajan (fig. 4) was excavated by order of Napoleon I., and the extent of its buildings, with their relation to one another, is therefore known with approximate accuracy. The Greek and Latin libraries stood to the right and left of the small court between the _Basilica Ulpia_ and the _Templum Divi Trajani_, the centre of which was marked by the existing Column. They were entered from this court, each through a portico of five inter-columniations. The rooms, measured internally, were about 60 feet long, by 45 feet broad. At this point I must mention, parenthetically, the library built by Hadrian at Athens. Pausanias records it in the following passage: Hadrian also built for the Athenians a temple of Hera and Panhellenian Zeus, and a sanctuary common to all the gods. But most splendid of all are one hundred columns; walls and colonnades alike are made of Phrygian marble. Here, too, is a building adorned with a gilded roof and alabaster and also with statues and paintings: books are stored in it. There is also a gymnasium named after Hadrian; it too has one hundred columns from the quarries of Libya[37]. A building called the Stoa of Hadrian, a ground-plan of which (fig. 5) I borrow from Miss Harrison's _Mythology and Monuments of Ancient Athens_, has been identified with part at least of that which Pausanias describes in the above passage. A lofty wall, built of large square blocks of Pentelic marble, faced on the west side by a row of Corinthian columns, enclosed a quadrangular court, measuring 328 feet from east to west, by 250 feet from north to south. This court, entered through a sort of propylæa on the west side (N), was surrounded by a cloister or colonnade 27 feet wide, and containing 100 columns. None of those columns are standing, but their number can be accurately calculated from the marks of the bases still to be seen on the eastern side of the quadrangle. Within this area are the remains of a building of uncertain use, and at present only partially excavated. On the east side a row of five chambers, of which that in the centre was the largest, opened off from the colonnade[38]. [Illustration: Fig. 5. Plan of the Stoa of Hadrian, at Athens. AE, KI. Pier-arcade of the medieval church of the Panagia. B. North-east angle of this church, of Roman work. B, C, D, F. Portions of the Roman building which preceded the church. L, M. Reservoirs. N. Propylæa through which the court was entered. ] If the ground plan of this structure (fig. 5) be compared with that of the precinct of Athena and library at Pergamon (fig. 2), a striking similarity between them will at once be recognised; and, whatever may have been the destination of the building within the cloistered area, there can, I think, be little doubt that the library was contained in the five rooms beyond its limits to the east. They must have been entered from the cloister, much as those at Pergamon were. It is possible that Hadrian may himself have visited Pergamon, for Trajan had built an imperial residence there; but, even if he did not do this, he would accept the type from the great libraries built at Rome by Augustus. It should be mentioned that S. Jerome specially commemorates this library among Hadrian's works at Athens, and says that it was of remarkable construction (_miri operis_)[39]. From this brief digression I return to the public libraries of Rome. In the first place those built by Augustus had a regular organisation. There appears to have been a general director called _Procurator Bibliothecarum Augusti_[40]; and subordinate officers for each division: that is to say, one for the Greek books, one for the Latin books. These facts are derived from inscriptions found in _Columbaria_. Secondly, it may be concluded that they were used not merely for reading and reference, but as meeting-places for literary men. The Palatine libraries evidently contained a large collection of old and new books; and I think it is quite certain that new books, as soon as published, were placed there, unless there was some special reason to the contrary. Otherwise there would be no point in the lines in which Ovid makes his book--sent from Pontus after his banishment--deplore its exclusion. The book is supposed to climb from the Forum to the temple of Apollo: Signa peregrinis ubi sunt alterna columnis Belides et stricto barbarus ense pater Quæque viri docto veteres coepere novique Pectore lecturis inspicienda patent. Quærebam fratres exceptis scilicet illis Quos suus optaret non genuisse parens; Quærentem frustra custos e sedibus illis Præpositus sancto iussit abire loco[41]. Where, set between each pair of columns from some foreign quarry, are statues of the Danaids, and their barbarous father with drawn sword; and where whatever the minds of men of old or men of to-day have imagined, is laid open for a reader's use. I sought my brethren, save those of course whom their father would fain have never begotten; and, while I was seeking for them in vain, he who was set over the room bade me leave that holy ground. The second couplet can only mean that old books and new books were alike to be found there. The general nature of the collection, and its extent, may be further gathered from the advice which Horace gives to his friend Celsus: Quid mihi Celsus agit? monitus multumque monendus Privatas ut quærat opes, et tangere vitet Scripta Palatinus quæcunque recepit Apollo[42]. What is my friend Celsus about? he who has been reminded, and must still be reminded again and again, that he should draw upon his own resources, and be careful to avoid the multifarious writings which Palatine Apollo has taken under his charge. A man might say now-a-days, "Trust to your own wits, and don't go so often to the library of the British Museum." Aulus Gellius, who lived A.D. 117-180, speaks of "sitting with a party of friends in the library of the palace of Tiberius, when a book happened to be taken down with the title M. Catonis Nepotis," and they began asking one another who this M. Cato Nepos might be[43]. This library contained also public records[44]. The same writer tells a story of a grammatical difficulty which was to be settled by reference to a book _in templo Pacis_, in the forum of Vespasian; and again, when a particular book was wanted, "we hunted for it diligently," he says, "and, when we had found it in the temple of Peace, we read it[45]." The library in the forum of Trajan, often called _Bibliotheca Ulpia_, was apparently the Public Record Office of Rome. Aulus Gellius mentions that some decrees of former prætors had fallen in his way there when he was looking for something else, and that he had been allowed to read them[46]; and a statement of Vopiscus is still more conclusive as to the nature of its contents. It tells us, moreover, something about the arrangement. In his life of the Emperor Tacitus (Sept. A.D. 275--Apr. 276) Vopiscus says: And lest anybody should think that I have given too hasty a credence to a Greek or Latin author, the Ulpian Library has in its sixth press (_armarium_) an ivory volume (_librum elephantinum_) in which the following decree of the Senate, signed by Tacitus with his own hand, is recorded, etc.[47] Again, in his life of the Emperor Aurelian, the same writer records how his friend Junius Tiberianus, prefect of the city, had urged him to undertake the task, and had assured him that: "even the linen-books (_libri lintei_) shall be brought out of the Ulpian library for your use[48]." Books could occasionally be borrowed from a public library, but whether from one of those in the city of Rome, I cannot say. The scene of the story which proves this is laid by Aulus Gellius at Tibur (Tivoli), where the library was in the temple of Hercules--another instance of the care of a library being entrusted to a temple. Aulus Gellius and some friends of his were assembled in a rich man's villa there at the hottest season of the year. They were drinking melted snow, a proceeding against which one of the party, a peripatetic philosopher, vehemently protested, urging against the practice the authority of numerous physicians and of Aristotle himself. But none the less the party went on drinking snow-water. Whereupon "he fetched a treatise by Aristotle out of the library of Tibur, which was then very conveniently accommodated in the temple of Hercules, and brought it to us, saying----[49]." But I need not finish the quotation, as it has no bearing on my special subject. It is probable that numerous collections of books had been got together by individuals in Rome, before it occurred to Augustus and his friends to erect public libraries. One such library, that belonging to the rich and luxurious Lucullus, has been noticed as follows by Plutarch[50]: His procedure in regard to books was interesting and remarkable. He collected fine copies in large numbers; and if he was splendid in their acquisition, he was more so in their use. His libraries were accessible to all, and the adjoining colonnades and reading-rooms were freely open to Greeks, who, gladly escaping from the routine of business, resorted thither for familiar converse, as to a shelter presided over by the Muses. The Romans were not slow in following the example set by Lucullus; and a library presently became indispensable in every house, whether the owner cared for reading or not. This fashionable craze is denounced by Seneca (writing about A.D. 49) in a vehement outburst of indignation, which contains so many valuable facts about library arrangement, that I will give a free translation of it. Outlay upon studies, best of all outlays, is reasonable so long only as it is kept within certain limits. What is the use of books and libraries innumerable, if scarce in a lifetime the master reads the titles? A student is burdened by a crowd of authors, not instructed; and it is far better to devote yourself to a few, than to lose your way among a multitude. Forty thousand books were burnt at Alexandria. I leave others to praise this splendid monument of royal opulence, as for example Livy, who regards it as "a noble work of royal taste and royal thoughtfulness." It was not taste, it was not thoughtfulness, it was learned extravagance--nay not even learned, for they had bought their books for the sake of show, not for the sake of learning--just as with many who are ignorant even of the lowest branches of learning books are not instruments of study, but ornaments of dining-rooms. Procure then as many books as will suffice for use; but not a single one for show. You will reply: "Outlay on such objects is preferable to extravagance on plate or paintings." Excess in all directions is bad. Why should you excuse a man who wishes to possess book-presses inlaid with _arbor-vitæ_ wood or ivory: who gathers together masses of authors either unknown or discredited; who yawns among his thousands of books; and who derives his chief delight from their edges and their tickets? You will find then in the libraries of the most arrant idlers all that orators or historians have written--book-cases built up as high as the ceiling. Nowadays a library takes rank with a bathroom as a necessary ornament of a house. I could forgive such ideas, if they were due to extravagant desire for learning. As it is, these productions of men whose genius we revere, paid for at a high price, with their portraits ranged in line above them, are got together to adorn and beautify a wall[51]. A library was discovered in Rome by Signor Lanciani in 1883 while excavating a house of the 4th century on the Esquiline in the modern Via dello Statuto. I will narrate the discovery in his own words. I was struck, one afternoon, with the appearance of a rather spacious hall [it was about 23 feet long by 15 feet broad], the walls of which were plain and unornamented up to a certain height, but beautifully decorated above in stucco-work. The decoration consisted of fluted pilasters, five feet apart from centre to centre, enclosing a plain square surface, in the middle of which there were medallions, also in stucco-work, two feet in diameter. As always happens in these cases, the frame was the only well-preserved portion of the medallions. Of the images surrounded by the frames, of the medallions themselves, absolutely nothing was left _in situ_, except a few fragments piled up at the foot of the wall, which, however, could be identified as having been representations of human faces. My hope that, at last, after fifteen years of excavations, I had succeeded in discovering a library, was confirmed beyond any doubt by a legend, written, or rather painted, in bright red colour on one of the frames. There was but one name POLONIVS THYAN ..., but this name told more plainly the purpose of the apartment than if I had discovered there the actual bookshelves and their contents[52]. When I had the pleasure of meeting Signor Lanciani in Rome in April, 1898, he most kindly gave me his own sketch of the pilasters and medallion, taken at the moment of discovery. I am therefore able to reproduce exactly (fig. 6) one compartment of the wall of the library above described. The height of the blank wall below the stucco-work, against which the furniture containing the books stood, has been laid down as about 3 feet 6 inches, on the authority of Professor Middleton[53]. The remains of the medallion are still to be seen in the Museo del Orto Botanico, Rome. The person commemorated is obviously Apollonius Tyaneus, a Pythagorean philosopher and wonderworker, said to have been born about four years before the Christian era. [Illustration: Fig. 6. Elevation of a single compartment of the wall of the Library discovered in Rome, 1883. From notes and measurements made by Signor Lanciani and Prof. Middleton.] A similar room was discovered at Herculaneum in 1754. A full account of the discovery was drawn up at once by Signor Paderni, keeper of the Herculaneum Museum, and addressed to Thomas Hollis, Esq., by whom it was submitted to the Royal Society. I will extract, from this and subsequent letters, the passages that bear upon my subject. _Naples, 27 April, 1754._ ... The place where they are digging, at present, is under _Il Bosco di Sant' Agostino_.... All the buildings discover'd in this site are noble; ... in one there has been found an entire library, compos'd of volumes of the Egyptian Papyrus, of which there have been taken out about 250....[54] _To the same._ _18 October, 1754._ ... As yet we have only entered into one room, the floor of which is formed of mosaic work, not unelegant. It appears to have been a library, adorned with presses, inlaid with different sorts of wood, disposed in rows; at the top of which were cornices, as in our own times. I was buried in this spot more than twelve days, to carry off the volumes found there; many of which were so perished, that it was impossible to remove them. Those which I took away amounted to the number of three hundred and thirty-seven, all of them at present uncapable of being opened. These are all written in Greek characters. While I was busy in this work I observed a large bundle, which, from the size, I imagined must contain more than a single volume. I tried with the utmost care to get it out, but could not, from the damp and weight of it. However I perceived that it consisted of about 18 volumes, each of which was in length a palm and three Neapolitan inches, being the largest hitherto discovered. They were wrapped about with the bark of a tree and covered at each end with a piece of wood. All these were written in Latin, as appears by a few words which broke off from them. I was in hopes to have got something out of them, but they are in a worse condition than the Greek[55].... _From Sir J. Gray, Bart._ _29 October, 1754._ ... They have lately met with more rolls of Papyri of different lengths and sizes, some with the _Umbilicus_ remaining in them: the greater part are Greek in small capitals.... The Epicurean Philosophy is the subject of another fragment. A small bust of Epicurus, with his name in Greek characters, was found in the same room, and was possibly the ornament of that part of the library where the writings in favour of his principles were kept; and it may also be supposed that some other heads of philosophers found in the same room were placed with the same taste and propriety[56]. Between 1758 and 1763, the place was visited by Winckelmann, who wrote long letters in Italian, describing what he saw, to Consigliere Bianconi, Physician to the King of Saxony. One of these, dated 1762, gives the following account of the library: Ii luogo in cui per la prima volta caddero sott' occhio, fu una piccola stanza nella villa d'Ercolano di cui parlammo sopra, la cui lunghezza due uomini colle braccia distese potevano misurare. Tutto all' intorno del muro vi erano degli scaffali quali si vedono ordinariamente negli archivi ad altezza d' uomo, e nel mezzo della stanza v' era un altro scaffale simile o tavola per tenervi scritture, e tale da potervi girare intorno. Il legno di questa tavola era ridotto a carboni, e cadde, come è facile ad imaginarselo, tutta in pezzi quando si toccò. Alcuni di questi rotoli di papiri si trovarono involti insieme con carta più grossolana, di quella qualità che gli antichi chiamavano _emporetica_, e questi probabilmente formavano le parti ed i libri d' un' opera intiera[57].... The place in which they [the rolls] were first seen was a small room in the villa at Herculaneum of which we spoke above, the length of which could be covered by two men with their arms extended. All round the wall there were book-cases such as are commonly seen in record-rooms, of a man's height, and in the middle of the room there was another similar book-case or table to hold writings, of such a size that one could go round it. The wood of this table was reduced to charcoal, and, as may easily be imagined, fell all to pieces when it was touched. Some of these papyrus rolls were found fastened together with paper of coarser texture, of that quality which the ancients called _emporetica_, and these probably formed the parts and books of an entire work. The information which these observers have given us amounts to this: the room was about 12 feet long, with a floor of mosaic. Against the walls stood presses, of a man's height, inlaid with different sorts of wood, disposed in rows, with cornices at the top; and there was also a table, or press, in the centre of the room. Most of the rolls were separate, but a bundle of eighteen was found "wrapped about with the bark of a tree, and covered at each end with a piece of wood." A room so small as this could hardly have been intended for study. It must rather have been the place where the books were put away after they had been read elsewhere. Before I quit this part of my subject, I should like to mention one other building, as its arrangements throw light on the question of fitting up libraries and record-offices. I allude to the structure built by Vespasian, A.D. 78, to contain the documents relating to his restoration of the city of Rome. It stood at the south-west corner of the Forum of Peace, and what now exists of it is known as the Church of SS. Cosma e Damiano. The general arrangement and relation to adjoining structures will be understood from the plan (fig. 7). The room was about 125 feet long by 65 feet broad, with two entrances, one on the north-west, from the _Forum Pacis_, through a hexastyle portico (fig. 7. 2), the other on the north-east, through a square-headed doorway of travertine which still exists (_ibid._ 1) together with a considerable portion of a massive wall of Vespasian's time. After a restoration by Caracalla the building came to be called _Templum Sacræ Urbis_. It was first consecrated as a church by pope Felix IV. (526-530), but he did little more than connect it with the _Heroon Romuli_ (_ibid._ 5), and build the apse (_ibid._ 4). [Illustration: Fig. 7. Plan of the Record-House of Vespasian, with the adjoining structures.] [Illustration: Fig. 8. Part of the internal wall of the Record-House of Vespasian. Reduced from a sketch taken in the 16th century by Pirro Ligorio.] The whole building was mercilessly mutilated by pope Urban VIII. in 1632; but fortunately a drawing of the interior had been made by Pirro Ligorio in the second half of the sixteenth century, when the original treatment of the walls was practically intact. I give a reduced copy of a small portion of this drawing (fig. 8). As Lanciani says: The walls were divided into three horizontal bands by finely cut cornices. The upper band was occupied by the windows; the lower was simply lined with marble slabs covered by the bookcases ... which contained the ... records ...; the middle one was incrusted with tarsia-work of the rarest kinds of marble with panels representing panoplies, the wolf with the infant founders of Rome, and other allegorical scenes[58]. I explained at the beginning of this chapter that my subject is the care of books, not books themselves; but, at the point which we have now reached in regard to Roman libraries, it is necessary to make a few remarks about their contents. It must be remembered, in the first place, that those who fitted them up had to deal with rolls (_volumina_), probably of papyrus, but possibly of parchment; and that a book, as we understand the word, the Latin equivalent for which was _codex_, did not come into general use until long after the Christian era. Some points about these rolls require notice. The length and the width of the roll depended on the taste or convenience of the writer[59]. The contents were written in columns, the lines of which ran parallel to the long dimension[60], and the reader, holding the roll in both hands, rolled up the part he had finished with his left hand, and unrolled the unread portion with his right. This way of dealing with the roll is well shewn in the accompanying illustration (fig. 9) reduced from a fresco at Pompeii[61]. In most examples the two halves of the roll are turned inwards, as for instance in the well-known statue of Demosthenes in the Vatican[62]. The end of the roll was fastened to a stick (usually referred to as _umbilicus_ or _umbilici_). It is obvious that this word ought properly to denote the ends of the stick only, but it was constantly applied to the whole stick, and not to a part of it, as for instance in the following lines: ... deus nam me vetat Inceptos olim promissum carmen iambos Ad umbilicum adducere[63]. ... for heaven forbids me to cover the scroll down to the stick with the iambic lines I had begun a song promised long ago to the world. [Illustration: Fig. 9. A reader with a roll: from a fresco at Pompeii.] These sticks were sometimes painted or gilt, and furnished with projecting knobs (_cornua_) similarly decorated, intended to serve both as an ornament, and as a contrivance to keep the ends of the roll even, while it was being rolled up. The sides of the long dimension of the roll (_frontes_) were carefully cut, so as to be perfectly symmetrical, and afterwards smoothed with pumice-stone and coloured. A ticket (_index_ or _titulus_, in Greek [Greek: sillubos] or [Greek: sittubos]), made of a piece of papyrus or parchment, was fastened to the edge of the roll in such a way that it hung out over one or other of the ends. As Ovid says: Cetera turba palam titulos ostendet apertos Et sua detecta nomina fronte geret[64]. The others will flaunt their titles openly, and carry their names on an uncovered edge. The roll was kept closed by strings or straps (_lora_), usually of some bright colour[65]; and if it was specially precious, an envelope which the Greeks called a jacket ([Greek: diphthera][66]), made of parchment or some other substance, was provided. Says Martial: Perfer Atestinæ nondum vulgata Sabinæ Carmina, purpurea sed modo culta toga[67]. Convey to Sabina at Ateste these verses. They have not yet been published, and have been but lately dressed in a purple garment. Martial has combined in a single epigram most of the ornaments with which rolls could be decorated. This I will quote next, premising that the oil of cedar, or _arbor-vitæ_, mentioned in the second line not only imparted an agreeable yellow colour, but was held to be an antiseptic[68]. Faustini fugis in sinum? sapisti. Cedro nunc licet ambules perunctus Et frontis gemino decens honore Pictis luxurieris umbilicis, Et te purpura delicata velet, Et cocco rubeat superbus index[69]. His book had selected the bibliomaniac Faustinus as a patron. Now, says the poet, you shall be anointed with oil of cedar; you shall revel in the decoration of both your sets of edges; your sticks shall be painted; your covering shall be purple, and your ticket scarlet. When a number of rolls had to be carried from one place to another, they were put into a box (_scrinium_ or _capsa_). This receptacle was cylindrical in shape, not unlike a modern hat-box[70]. It was carried by a flexible handle, attached to a ring on each side; and the lid was held down by what looks very like a modern lock. The eighteen rolls, found in a bundle at Herculaneum, had doubtless been kept in a similar receptacle. My illustration (fig. 10) is from a fresco at Herculaneum. It will be noticed that each roll is furnished with a ticket (_titulus_). At the feet of the statue of Demosthenes already referred to, and of that of Sophocles, are _capsæ_, both of which show the flexible handles. [Illustration: Fig. 10. Book-box or capsa.] I will next collect the information available respecting the fittings used in Roman libraries. I admit that it is scattered and imperfect; but legitimate deductions may, I think, be arrived at from it, which will give us tolerably certain ideas of the appearance of one of those collections. The words used to designate such fittings are: _nidus_; _forulus_, or more usually _foruli_; _loculamenta_; _pluteus_; _pegmata_. _Nidus_ needs no explanation. It can only mean a pigeon-hole. Martial uses it of a bookseller, at whose shop his own poems may be bought. De primo dabit alterove _nido_ Rasum pumice purpuraque cultum Denaris tibi quinque Martialem[71]. Out of his first or second pigeon-hole, polished with pumice stone, and smart with a purple covering, for five denarii he will give you Martial. In a subsequent epigram the word occurs with reference to a private library, to which the poet is sending a copy of his works. Ruris bibliotheca delicati, Vicinam videt unde lector urbem, Inter carmina sanctiora si quis Lascivæ fuerit locus Thaliæ, Hos _nido_ licet inseras vel imo Septem quos tibi misimus libellos[72]. O library of that well-appointed villa whence a reader can see the City near at hand--if among more serious poems there be any room for the wanton Muse of Comedy, you may place these seven little books I send you even in your lowest pigeon-hole. _Forulus_ or _foruli_ occurs in the following passages. Suetonius, after describing the building of the temple of the Palatine Apollo by Augustus, adds, "he placed the Sibylline books in two gilt receptacles (_forulis_) under the base of the statue of Palatine Apollo"[73]; and Juvenal, enumerating the gifts that a rich man is sure to receive if burnt out of house and home, says, Hic libros dabit, et _forulos_, mediamque Minervam[74]. The word is of uncertain derivation, but _forus_, of which it is clearly the diminutive, is used by Virgil for the cells of bees: Complebuntque _foros_ et floribus horrea texent[75]. The above-quoted passage of Juvenal may therefore be rendered: "Another will give books, and cells to put them in, and a statue of Minerva for the middle of the room." The word _loculamentum_ is explained in a passage of Columella, in which he gives directions for the making of dovecotes: Let small stakes be placed close together, with planks laid across them to carry cells (_loculamenta_) for the birds to build their nests in, or sets of pigeon-holes made of earthenware[76]. In a second passage he uses the same word for a beehive[77]; Vegetius, a writer on veterinary surgery, uses it for the socket of a horse's tooth[78]; and Vitruvius, in a more general way, for a case to contain a small piece of machinery[79]. Generally, the word may be taken to signify a long narrow box, open at one end, and, like _nidus_ and _forulus_, may be translated "pigeon-hole." Seneca, again, applies the word to books in the passage I have already translated, and in a singularly instructive manner. "You will find," he says, "in the libraries of the most arrant idlers all that orators or historians have written--bookcases (_loculamenta_) built up as high as the ceiling[80]." _Pegmata_, for the word generally occurs in the plural, are, as the name implies, things fixed together, usually planks of wood framed into a platform, and used in theatres to carry pieces of scenery or performers up and down. As applied to books "shelves" are probably meant: an interpretation borne out by the _Digest_, in which it is stated that "window-frames and _pegmata_ are included in the purchase of a house[81]." They were therefore what we should call "fixtures." A _pluteus_ was a machine used by infantry for protection in the field: and hence the word is applied to any fence, or boarding to form the limit or edge of anything, as a table or a bed. _Plutei_ were not attached so closely to the walls as _pegmata_, for in the _Digest_ they are classed with nets to keep out birds, mats, awnings, and the like, and are not to be regarded as part and parcel of a house[82]. Juvenal uses the word for a shelf in his second Satire, where he is denouncing pretenders to knowledge: Indocti primum, quamquam plena omnia gypso Chrysippi invenias, nam perfectissimus horum est Si quis Aristotelem similem vel Pittacon emit Et iubet archetypos pluteum servare Cleanthas[83]. In the first place they are dunces, though you find their houses full of plaster figures of Chrysippus: for a man of this sort is not fully equipped until he buys a likeness of Aristotle or Pittacus, and bids a shelf take care of original portraits of Cleanthes. This investigation has shewn that three of the words applied to the preservation of books, namely, _nidus_, _forulus_, and _loculamentum_, may be rendered by the English "pigeon-hole"; and that _pegma_ and _pluteus_ mean contrivances of wood which may be rendered by the English "shelving." It is quite clear that _pegmata_ could be run up with great rapidity, from a very graphic account in Cicero's letters of the rearrangement of his library. He begins by writing to his friend Atticus as follows: I wish you would send me any two fellows out of your library, for Tyrannio to make use of as pasters, and assistants in other matters. Remind them to bring some vellum with them to make those titles (_indices_) which you Greeks, I believe, call [Greek: silluboi]. You are not to do this if it is inconvenient to you[84].... In the next letter he says: Your men have made my library gay with their carpentry-work and their titles (_constructione et sillybis_). I wish you would commend them[85]. When all is completed he writes: Now that Tyrannio has arranged my books, a new spirit has been infused into my house. In this matter the help of your men Dionysius and Menophilus has been invaluable. Nothing could look neater than those shelves of yours (_illa tua pegmata_), since they smartened up my books with their titles[86]. No other words than those I have been discussing are, so far as I know, applied by the best writers to the storage of books; and, after a careful study of the passages in which they occur, I conclude that, so long as rolls only had to be accommodated, private libraries in Rome were fitted with rows of shelves standing against the walls (_plutei_), or fixed to them (_pegmata_). The space between these horizontal shelves was subdivided by vertical divisions into pigeon-holes (_nidi_, _foruli_, _loculamenta_), and it may be conjectured that the width of these pigeon-holes would vary in accordance with the number of rolls included in a single work. That such receptacles were the common furniture of a library is proved, I think, by such evidence as the epigram of Martial quoted above, in which he tells his friend that if he will accept his poems, he may "put them even in the lowest pigeon-hole (_nido vel imo_)," as we should say, "on the bottom shelf"; and by the language of Seneca when he sneers at the "pigeon-holes (_loculamenta_) carried up to the ceiling." The height of the woodwork varied, of course, with individual taste. In the library on the Esquiline the height was only three feet six inches; at Herculaneum about six feet. I can find no hint of any doors, or curtains, in front of the pigeon-holes. That the ends of the rolls (_frontes_) were visible, is, I think, quite clear from what Cicero says of his own library after the construction of his shelves (_pegmata_); and the various devices for making rolls attractive seem to me to prove that they were intended to be seen. A representation of rolls arranged on the system which I have attempted to describe, occurs on a piece of sculpture (fig. 11) found at Neumagen near Trèves in the seventeenth century, among the ruins of a fortified camp attributed to Constantine the Great[87]. Two divisions, full of rolls, are shewn, from which a man, presumably the librarian, is selecting one. The ends of the rolls are furnished with tickets. [Illustration: Fig. 11. A Roman taking down a roll from its place in a library.] The system of pigeon-holes terminated, in all probability, in a cornice. The explorers of Herculaneum depose to the discovery of such an ornament there. The wall-space above the book-cases was decorated with the likenesses of celebrated authors--either philosophers, if the owner of the library wished to bring into prominence his adhesion to one of the fashionable systems--or authors, dead and living, or personal friends. This obvious form of decoration was, in all probability, used at Pergamon[88]; Pollio, as we have seen, introduced it into Rome: and Pliny, who calls it a novelty (_novitium inventum_), deposes to its general adoption[89]. We are not told how these portraits were commonly treated--whether they were busts standing clear of the wall on the book-cases; or bracketed against the wall; or forming part of its decoration, in plaster-work or distemper. A suitable inscription accompanied them. Martial has preserved for us a charming specimen of one of these complimentary stanzas--for such they undoubtedly would be in the case of a contemporary--to be placed beneath his own portrait in a friend's library: Hoc tibi sub nostra breve carmen imagine vivat Quam non obscuris iungis, Avite, viris: _Ille ego sum nulli nugarum laude secundus, Quem non miraris, sed puto, lector, amas. Maiores maiora sonent: mihi parva locuto Sufficit in vestras sæpe redire manus_[90]. Placed, with my betters, on your study-wall Let these few lines, Avitus, me recall: _To foremost rank in trifles I was raised; I think men loved me, though they never praised. Let greater poets greater themes profess: My modest lines seek but the hand's caress That tells me, reader, of thy tenderness._ The beautiful alto-relievo in the Lateran Museum, Rome, representing an actor selecting a mask, contains a contrivance for reading a roll (fig. 12) which may have been usual in libraries and elsewhere, though I have not met with another instance of it. A vertical support attached to the table on which two masks and a MS. are lying, carries a desk with a rim along its lower edge and one of its sides. The roll is partially opened, the closed portion lying towards the left side of the desk, next the rim. The roll may be supposed to contain the actor's part[91]. It is much to be regretted that we have no definite information as to the way in which the great public libraries built by Augustus were fitted up; but I see no reason for supposing that their fittings differed from those of private libraries. [Illustration: Fig. 12. Desk to support a roll while it is being read.] When books (_codices_), of a shape similar to that with which modern librarians have to deal, had to be accommodated as well as rolls, it is manifest that rectangular spaces not more than a few inches wide would be singularly inconvenient. They were therefore discarded in favour of a press (_armarium_), a piece of furniture which would hold rolls (_volumina_) as well as books (_codices_), and was in fact, as I shall shew, used for both purposes. The word (_armarium_) occurs commonly in Cicero, and other writers of the best period, for a piece of furniture in which valuables of all kinds, and household gear, were stowed away; and Vitruvius[92] uses it for a book-case. A critic, he says, "produced from certain presses an infinite number of rolls." In later Latin writers--that is from the middle of the first century A.D.--no other word, speaking generally, occurs. The jurist Ulpian, who died A.D. 228, in a discussion as to what is comprised under the term _liber_, decides in favour of including all rolls (_volumina_) of whatever material, and then considers the question whether _codices_ come under the same category or not--thereby shewing that in his day both forms of books were in use. Again, when a library (_bibliotheca_) has been bequeathed, it is questioned whether the bequest includes merely the press or presses (_armarium vel armaria_), or the books as well[93]. The Ulpian Library, or rather Libraries, in Trajan's Forum, built about 114 A.D.[94], were fitted up with presses, as we learn from the passage in Vopiscus which I have already quoted; and when the ruins of the section of that library which stood next to the Quirinal Hill were excavated by the French, a very interesting trace of one of these presses was discovered. Nibby, the Roman antiquary, thus describes it: Beyond the above-mentioned bases [of the columns in the portico] some remains of the inside of the room became visible on the right. They consisted of a piece of curtain-wall, admirably constructed of brick, part of the side-wall, with a rectangular niche of large size in the form of a press (_in foggia di armadio_). One ascended to this by three steps, with a landing-place in front of them, on which it was possible to stand with ease. On the sides of this niche there still exist traces of the hinges, on which the panels and the wickets, probably of bronze, rested[95]. It seems to me that we have here an early instance, perhaps the earliest, of those presses in the thickness of the wall which were so common afterwards in the monasteries and in private libraries also. A similar press, on a smaller scale, is described by the younger Pliny: "My bedroom," he says, "has a press let into the wall which does duty as a library, and holds books not merely to be read, but read over and over again[96]." It must not, however, be supposed that cupboards were always, or even usually, sunk into the wall in Roman times. They were detached pieces of furniture, not unlike the wardrobes in which ladies hang their dresses at the present day, except that they were fitted with a certain number of horizontal shelves, and were used for various purposes according to the requirements of their owners. For instance, there is a sarcophagus in the Museo Nazionale at Rome, on which is represented a shoemaker at work. In front of him is a cupboard, exactly like those I am about to describe, on the top of which several pairs of shoes are set out. I can, however, produce three representations of such presses being used by the Romans to contain books. The first occurs on a marble sarcophagus (fig. 13), now in the garden of the Villa Balestra, Rome, where I had the good fortune to find it in 1898[97]; and Professor Petersen, of the German Archaeological School, was so kind as to have it photographed for me. He assigns the work to about 200 A.D. [Illustration: Fig. 13. A Roman reading a roll in front of a press (_armarium_). From a photograph of a sarcophagus in the garden of the Villa Balestra. Rome.] In the central portion, 21 in. high, by 15½ in. wide, is a seated figure, reading a roll. In front of him is a cupboard, the doors of which are open. It is fitted with two shelves, on the uppermost of which are eight rolls, the ends of which are turned to the spectator. On the next shelf is something which looks like a dish or shallow cup. The lower part of the press is solid. Perhaps a second cupboard is intended. Above, it is finished off with a cornice, on which rests a very puzzling object. There are a few faint lines on the marble, which Professor Petersen believes are intended to represent surgical instruments, and so to indicate the profession of the seated figure[98]. There is a Greek inscription on the sarcophagus, but it merely warns posterity not to disturb the bones of the deceased[99]. The second representation (fig. 14) is from the tomb of Galla Placidia, at Ravenna. It occurs in a mosaic on the wall of the chapel in which she was buried, A.D. 449[100]; and was presumably executed before that date. The press closely resembles the one on the Roman sarcophagus, but it is evidently intended to indicate a taller piece of furniture, and it terminates in a pediment. There are two shelves, on which lie the four Gospels, each as a separate _codex_, indicated by the name of the Evangelist above it. This press rests upon a stout frame, the legs of which are kept in position by a cross-piece nearly as thick as themselves. [Illustration: Fig. 14. Press containing the four Gospels. From a mosaic above the tomb of the Empress Galla Placidia at Ravenna.] The third representation of an _armarium_ (fig. 15) occurs in the manuscript of the Vulgate now in the Laurentian Library at Florence, known as the _Codex Amiatinus_, from the Cistercian convent of Monte Amiata in Tuscany, where it was preserved for several centuries[101]. The thorough investigation to which this manuscript has lately been subjected shews that it was written in England, at Wearmouth or Jarrow, but possibly by an Italian scribe, before A.D. 716, in which year it was taken to Rome, as a present to the Pope. The first quaternion, however, on one of the leaves of which the above representation occurs, is probably older; and it may have belonged to a certain _Codex grandior_ mentioned by Cassiodorus, and possibly written under his direction[102]. The picture (fig. 15), which appears as the frontispiece to this work, shews Ezra writing the law. On the margin of the vellum, in a hand which is considered to be later than that of the MS., are the words: CODICIBUS SACRIS HOSTILI CLADE PERVSTIS ESDRA DEO FERVENS HOC REPARAVIT OPUS. Behind him is a press (_armarium_) with open doors. The lower portion, below these doors, is filled in with panels which are either inlaid or painted, so that the frame on which it is supported is not visible, as in the Ravenna example. The bottom of the press proper is used as a shelf, on which lie a volume and two objects, one of which probably represents a case for pens, while the other is certainly an inkhorn. Above this are four shelves, on each of which lie two volumes. These volumes have their titles written on their backs, but they are difficult to make out, and my artist has not cared to risk mistakes by attempting to reproduce them. The words, beginning at the left hand corner of the top-shelf, are: OCT.[103] LIB. REG. HIST. LIB. PSALM. LIB. SALOMON. PROPH. EVANG. IIII. EPIST. XXI. ACT. APOSTOL. The frame-work of the press above the doors is ornamented in the same style as the panels below, and the whole is surmounted by a low pyramid, on the side of which facing the spectator is a cross, beneath which are two peacocks drinking from a water-trough. I regret that I could not place this remarkable drawing before my readers in the rich colouring of the original. The press is of a reddish brown: the books are bound in crimson. Ezra is clad in green, with a crimson robe. The background is gold. The border is blue, between an inner and outer band of silver. The outermost band of all is vermilion. I formerly thought that this book-press might represent those in use in England at the beginning of the eighth century; but, if the above attribution to Cassiodorus be accurate, it must be accounted another Italian example. It bears a general similarity to the Ravenna book-press, as might be expected, when it is remembered that Cassiodorus held office under Theodoric and his successors, and resided at Ravenna till he was nearly seventy years old. The foundation of Christianity did not alter what I may call the Roman conception of a library in any essential particular. The philosophers and authors of Greece and Rome may have occasionally found themselves in company with, or even supplanted by, the doctors of the Church; but in other respects, for the first seven centuries, at least, of our era, the learned furnished their libraries according to the old fashion, though with an ever increasing luxury of material. Boethius, whose _Consolation of Philosophy_ was written A.D. 525, makes Philosophy speak of the "walls of a library adorned with ivory and glass[104]"; and Isidore, Bishop of Seville A.D. 600-636, records that "the best architects object to gilded ceilings in libraries, and to any other marble than _cipollino_ for the floor, because the glitter of gold is hurtful to the eyes, while the green of _cipollino_ is restful to them[105]." A few examples of such libraries may be cited; but, before doing so, I must mention the Record-Office (_Archivum_), erected by Pope Damasus (366-384). It was connected with the Basilica of S. Lawrence, which Damasus built in the Campus Martius, near the theatre of Pompey. On the front of the Basilica, over the main entrance, was an inscription, which ended with the three following lines: ARCHIVIS FATEOR VOLUI NOVA CONDERE TECTA ADDERE PRÆTEREA DEXTRA LÆVAQUE COLUMNAS QUÆ DAMASI TENEANT PROPRIUM PER SÆCULA NOMEN. I confess that I have wished to build a new abode for Archives; and to add columns on the right and left to preserve the name of Damasus for ever. These enigmatical verses contain all that we know, or are ever likely to know, respecting this building, which is called _chartarium ecclesiæ Romanæ_ by S. Jerome[106], and unquestionably held the official documents of the Latin Church until they were removed to the Lateran in the seventh century. The whole building, or group of buildings, was destroyed in 1486 by Cardinal Raphael Riario, the dissolute nephew of Sixtus IV., to make room for his new palace, now called Palazzo della Cancelleria, and the church was rebuilt on a new site. The connexion with Pope Damasus is maintained by the name, S. Lorenzo in Damaso. No plan of the old buildings, or contemporary record of their arrangement, appears to exist. My only reason for drawing attention to a structure which has no real connexion with my subject is that the illustrious De Rossi considers that in the second line of the above quotation the word column signifies colonnades; and that Damasus took as his model one of the great pagan libraries of Rome which, in its turn, had been derived from the typical library at Pergamon[107]. According to this view he began by building, in the centre of the area selected, a basilica, or hall of basilican type, dedicated to S. Lawrence; and then added, on the north and south sides, a colonnade or loggia from which the rooms occupied by the records would be readily accessible. This opinion is also held by Signor Lanciani, who follows De Rossi without hesitation. I am unwilling to accept a theory which seems to me to have no facts to support it; and find it safer to believe that the line in question refers either to the aisles of the basilica, or to such a portico in front of it as may be seen at San Clemente and other early churches. A letter to Eucherius, Bishop of Lyons in A.D. 441, from a correspondent named Rusticus, gives a charming picture of a library which he had visited in his young days, say about A.D. 400: I am reminded of what I read years ago, hastily, as a boy does, in the library of a man who was learned in secular literature. There were there portraits of Orators and also of Poets worked in mosaic, or in wax of different colours, or in plaster, and under each the master of the house had placed inscriptions noting their characteristics; but, when he came to a poet of acknowledged merit, as for instance, Virgil, he began as follows: Virgilium vatem melius sua carmina laudant; In freta dum fluvii current, dum montibus umbræ Lustrabunt convexa, polus dum sidera pascet, Semper honos nomenque tuum laudesque manebunt. Virgil's own lines most fitly Virgil praise: As long as rivers run into the deep, As long as shadows o'er the hillside sweep, As long as stars in heaven's fair pastures graze, So long shall live your honour, name, and praise.[108] Agapetus, who was chosen Pope in 535, and lived for barely a year, had intended, in conjunction with Cassiodorus, to found a college for teachers of Christian doctrine. He selected for this purpose a house on the Cælian Hill, afterwards occupied by S. Gregory, and by him turned into a monastery. Agapetus had made some progress with the scheme, so far as the library attached to the house was concerned, for the author of the Einsiedlen MS., who visited Rome in the ninth century, saw the following inscription "in the library of S. Gregory"--i.e. in the library attached to the Church of San Gregorio Magno. SANCTORVM VENERANDA COHORS SEDET ORDINE LONGO DIVINAE LEGIS MYSTICA DICTA DOCENS HOS INTER RESIDENS AGAPETVS IVRE SACERDOS CODICIBVS PVLCHRVM CONDIDIT ARTE LOCVM GRATIA PAR CVNCTIS SANCTVS LABOR OMNIBVS VNVS DISSONA VERBA QVIDEM SED TAMEN VNA FIDES Here sits in long array a reverend troop Teaching the mystic truths of law divine: 'Mid these by right takes Agapetus place Who built to guard his books this fair abode. All toil alike, all equal grace enjoy-- Their words are different, but their faith the same. These lines undoubtedly imply that there was on the walls a long series of portraits of the Fathers of the Church, including that of Agapetus himself, who had won his right to a place among them by building a sumptuous home for their works[109]. The design of Agapetus, interrupted by death, was carried forward by his friend Cassiodorus, at a place in South Italy called Vivarium, near his own native town Squillace. Shortly after his final retirement from court, A.D. 538, Cassiodorus established there a brotherhood, which, for a time at least, must have been a formidable rival to that of S. Benedict. A library held a prominent place in his conception of what was needed for their common life. He says little about its size or composition, but much rhetoric is expended on the contrivances by which its usefulness and attractiveness were to be increased. A staff of bookbinders was to clothe the manuscripts in decorous attire; self-supplying lamps were to light nocturnal workers; sundials by day, and water-clocks by night, enabled them to regulate their hours. Here also was a _scriptorium_, and it appears probable that between the exertions of Cassiodorus and his friend Eugippius, South Italy was well supplied with manuscripts[110]. These attempts to snatch from oblivion libraries which, though probably according to our ideas insignificant, were centres of culture in the darkest of dark ages, will be illustrated by the fuller information that has come down to us respecting the library of Isidore, Bishop of Seville 600-636. The "verses composed by himself for his own presses," to quote the oldest manuscript containing them[111], have been preserved, with the names of the writers under whose portraits they were inscribed. There were fourteen presses, arranged as follows: I. Origen. II. Hilary. III. Ambrose. IV. Augustine. V. Jerome. VI. Chrysostom. VII. Cyprian. VIII. Prudentius. IX. Avitus, Juvencus, Sedulius. X. Eusebius, Orosius. XI. Gregory. XII. Leander. XIII. Theodosius, Paulus, Gaius. XIV. Cosmas, Damian, Hippocrates, Galen. These writers are probably those whom Isidore specially admired, or had some particular reason for commemorating. The first seven are obvious types of theologians, and the presses over which they presided were doubtless filled not merely with their own works, but with bibles, commentaries, and works on Divinity in general. Eusebius and Orosius are types of ecclesiastical historians; Theodosius, Paulus, and Gaius, of jurists; Cosmas, Damian, etc. of physicians. But the Christian poets Prudentius to Sedulius could hardly have needed two presses to contain their works; nor Gregory the Great the whole of one. Lastly, Leander, Isidore's elder brother, could only owe his place in the series to fraternal affection. I conjecture that these portraits were simply commemorative; and that the presses beneath them contained the books on subjects not suggested by the rest of the portraits, as for example, secular literature, in which Isidore was a proficient. The sets of verses[112] begin with three elegiac couplets headed _Titulus Bibliothece_, probably placed over the door of entrance. Sunt hic plura sacra, sunt hic mundalia plura: Ex his si qua placent carmina, tolle, lege. Prata vides, plena spinis, et copia florum; Si non vis spinas sumere, sume rosas. Hic geminæ radiant veneranda volumina legis; Condita sunt pariter hic nova cum veteri. Here sacred books with worldly books combine; If poets please you, read them; they are thine. My meads are full of thorns, but flowers are there; If thorns displease, let roses be your share. Here both the Laws in tomes revered behold; Here what is new is stored, and what is old. The authors selected are disposed of either in a single couplet, or in several couplets, according to the writer's taste. I will quote the lines on S. Augustine: Mentitur qui [te] totum legisse fatetur: An quis cuneta tua lector habere potest? Namque voluminibus mille, Augustine, refulges, Testantur libri, quod loquor ipse, tui. Quamvis multorum placeat prudentia libris, Si Augustinus adest, sufficit ipse tibi. They lie who to have read thee through profess; Could any reader all thy works possess? A thousand scrolls thy ample gifts display; Thy own books prove, Augustine, what I say. Though other writers charm with varied lore, Who hath Augustine need have nothing more. The series concludes with some lines "To an Intruder (_ad Interventorem_)," the last couplet of which is too good to be omitted: Non patitur quenquam coram se scriba loquentem; Non est hic quod agas, garrule, perge foras. A writer and a talker can't agree: Hence, idle chatterer; 'tis no place for thee. [Illustration: Fig. 16. Great Hall of the Vatican Library, looking west.] With these three examples I conclude the section of my work which deals with what may be called the pagan conception of a library in the fulness of its later development. Unfortunately, no enthusiast of those distant times has handed down to us a complete description of his library, and we are obliged to take a detail from one account, and a detail from another, and so piece the picture together for ourselves. What I may call "the pigeon-hole system," suitable for rolls only, was replaced by presses which could contain rolls if required, and certainly did (as shewn (fig. 13) on the sarcophagus of the Villa Balestra), but which were specially designed for _codices_. These presses were sometimes plain, sometimes richly ornamented, according to the taste or the means of the owner. With the same limitations the floor, the walls, and possibly the roof also were decorated. Further, it was evidently intended that the room selected for books should be used for no other purpose; and, as the books were hidden from view in their presses, the library-note, if I may be allowed the expression, was struck by numerous inscriptions, and by portraits in various materials, representing either authors whose works were on the shelves, or men distinguished in other ways, or friends and relations of the owner of the house. The Roman conception of a library was realised by Pope Sixtus V., in 1587[113], when the present Vatican Library was commenced from the design of the architect Fontana. I am not aware that there is any contemporary record to prove that either the Pope or his advisers contemplated this direct imitation; but it is evident, from the most cursory inspection of the large room (fig. 16), that the main features of a Roman library are before us[114]; and perhaps, having regard to the tendency of the Renaissance, especially in Italy, it would be unreasonable to expect a different design in such a place, and at such a period. This noble hall--probably the most splendid apartment ever assigned to library-purposes--spans the Cortile del Belvedere from east to west, and is entered at each end from the galleries connecting the Belvedere with the Vatican palace. It is 184 feet long, and 57 feet wide, divided into two by six piers, on which rest simple quadripartite vaults. The north and south walls are each pierced with seven large windows. No books are visible. They are contained in plain wooden presses 7 feet high and 2 feet deep, set round the piers, and against the walls between the windows. The arrangement of these presses will be understood from the general view (fig. 16), and from the view of a single press open (fig. 17). In the decoration, with which every portion of the walls and vaults is covered, Roman methods are reproduced, but with a difference. The great writers of antiquity are conspicuous by their absence; but the development of the human race is commemorated by the presence of those to whom the invention of letters is traditionally ascribed; the walls are covered with frescoes representing the foundation of the great libraries which instructed the world, and the assemblies of the Councils which established the Church; the vaults record the benefits conferred on Rome by Sixtus V., in a series of historical views, one above each window; and over these again are stately figures, each embodying some sacred abstraction--"Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers"--with angels swinging censers, and graceful nymphs, and laughing satyrs--a strange combination of paganism and Christianity--amid wreaths of flowers, and arabesques twining round the groups and over every vacant space, partly framing, partly hiding, the heraldic devices which commemorate Sixtus and his family:--a web of lovely forms and brilliant colours, combined in an intricate and yet orderly confusion. It may be questioned whether such a room as this was ever intended for study. The marble floor, the gorgeous decoration, the absence of all appliances for work in the shape of desks, tables, chairs, suggest a place for show rather than for use. The great libraries of the Augustan age, on the other hand, seem, so far as we can judge, to have been used as meeting-places and reading-rooms for learned and unlearned alike. In general arrangement and appearance, however, the Vatican Library must closely resemble its imperial predecessors. [Illustration: Fig. 17. A single press in the Vatican Library, open. From a photograph.] FOOTNOTES: [1] _Discoveries in the Ruins of Nineveh and Babylon_, 2 vols., 8vo. Lond. 1853. Vol. II., p. 343. [2] Ezra, vi. I. [3] Mr Layard gives a view of the interior of one of these rooms (p. 345) after it had been cleared of rubbish. [4] _La Bibliothèque du Palais de Ninive_, par M. Joachim Menant. 8vo. Paris, 1880, p. 32. [5] The two languages are the ancient Sumerian and the more modern Assyrian. [6] Athenæus, Book 1., Chap. 4. [7] _Noct. Att._ Book VII., Chap. 17. Libros Athenis disciplinarum liberalium publice ad legendum præbendos primus posuisse dicitur Pisistratus tyrannus. [8] Xenophon, _Memorabilia_, Book IV., Chap. 2. [9] Aristoph. _Ranæ_, 1407-1410, translated by J. H. Frere. The passage has been quoted by Castellani, _Biblioteche nell' Antichità_, 8vo., Bologna, 1884, pp. 7, 8, and many others. [10] Strabo, ed. Kramer, Berlin, 8vo., 1852, Book XIII., Chap. I, § 54. [Greek: prôtos hôn hismen synagagôn biblia, kai didaxas tous en Aigyptô basileas bibliothêkês syntaxin.] [11] Book XIII., Chap. 4, § 2. [12] Book XVII., Chap. 1, § 8. [Greek: tôn de basileiôn meros esti kai to Mouseion, echon peripatôn kai exedran kai oikon megan, en ps to sussition tôn metechontôn tou Mouseion philologôn andrôn esti de tê sunodô tautê kai chrêmata koina kai iereus o epi tô Monseiô, tetagmenos tote men upo tôn Basileôn nun d upo Kaisaros.] [13] One of the anonymous lives of Apollonius Rhodius states that he presided over the Museum Libraries ([Greek: tôn bibliothêkôn ton Mouseion]). [14] Epiphanius, De Pond. et Mens., Chap. 12. [Greek: eti de usteron kai etera egeneto bibliothêkê en tô Serateiô, mikrotera tes prôtês, êtis thugatêr ônomasthê autês.] [15] Ammianus Marcellinus, Book XXII., Chap. 16, § 12. Atriis columnariis amplissimis et spirantibus signorum figmentis ita est exornatum, ut post Capitolium quo se venerabilis Roma in æternum attollit, nihil orbis terrarum ambitiosius cernat. See also Aphthonius, _Progymn._ C. XII. ed. Walz, _Rhetores Græci_, i. 106. [16] Pliny, _Hist. Nat._, Book V., Chap. 30. Longeque clarissimum Asiæ Pergamum. [17] Strabo, Book XIII., Chap. 4, § 2. After recounting the successful policy of Eumenes II. towards the Romans, he proceeds: [Greek: kateskenase de ontos tên polin, kai to Nikêphorion alsei katephuteuse, kai anathêmata kai bibliothêkas kai tên epi tosonde katoikian tou Pergamon tên nun ousan ekeinos prosephilokalêse]. [18] _De Architectura_, Book VII., Præfatio. The passage is quoted in the next note. [19] Pliny, _Hist. Nat._, Book XIII., Chap. 11. Mox æmulatione circa bibliothecas regum Ptolemæi et Eumenis, supprimente chartas Ptolemæo, idem Varro membranas Pergami tradidit repertas. Vitruvius, on the other hand (_ut supra_) makes Ptolemy found the library at Alexandria as a rival to that at Pergamon. Reges Attalici magnis philologiæ dulcedinibus inducti cum egregiam bibliothecam Pergami ad communem delectationem instituissent, tune item Ptolemæus, infinito zelo cupiditatisque incitatus studio, non minoribus industriis ad eundem modum contenderat Alexandriæ comparare. [20] Plutarch, _Antonius_, Chap. 57. To a list of accusations against Antony for his subservience to Cleopatra, is added the fact: [Greek: charisasthai men autê tas ek Pergámon bibliothêkas, en ais eikosi muriades biblôn aplôn êsan]. [21] _Altertümer von Pergamon_, Fol., Berlin, 1885, Band 11. Das Heiligtum der Athena Polias Nikephoros, von Richard Bohn. The ground-plan (fig. 2) is reduced from Plate III. in that volume. [22] _Die Pergamenische Bibliothek._ Sitzungsberichte der Königl. Preuss. Akad. der Wiss. zu Berlin, 1884, II. 1259-1270. [23] In my first lecture as Sandars Reader at Cambridge in the Lent Term, 1900, I pointed out that this enclosure was of about the same size as Nevile's Court at Trinity College, if to the central area there we add the width of one of the cloisters; and that the temple of Athena was of exactly the same width as the Hall, but about 15 feet shorter. Nevile's Court is 230 feet long from the inside of the pillars supporting the Library to the wall of the Hall; and it has a mean breadth of 137 feet. If the width of the cloister, 20 feet, be added to this, we get 157 feet in lieu of the 162 feet at Pergamon. [24] Now in the Royal Museum, Berlin. [25] Similar sockets have been discovered in the walls of the chambers connected with the Stoa of King Attalus at Athens. These chambers are thought to have been shops, and the sockets to have supported shelves on which wares were exposed for sale. Conze, ut supra, p. 1260; Adler, _Die Stoa des Königs Attalos zu Athen_, Berlin, 1874; Murray's _Handbook for Greece_, ed. 1884, 1. p. 255. [26] Suetonius, _Cæsar_, Chap. 44. [27] Pliny, _Nat. Hist._, Book VII., Chap. 30; Book XXXV., Chap. 2. [28] Suetonius, _Augustus_, Chap. 29. [29] Isidore, _Origines_, Book VI., Chap. 5. [30] Lanciani, _Ruins and Excavations of Ancient Rome_, ed. 1897, p. 471. Middleton, Ancient Rome, 1892, II. 204, 205. [31] Nibby, _Roma Antica_, p. 601. [Augusto] vi aggiunse un luogo per conversare chiamato _Schola_. [32] Vell. Pat., Book 1., Chap. II. Hic est Metellus Macedonicus qui porticus quæ fuere circumdatæ duabus ædibus sine inscriptione positis, quæ nunc Octaviæ porticibus ambiuntur, fecerat. [33] Suet. _De Illustr. Gramm._ c. 2. [34] Middleton, _Ancient Rome_, 1892, II. 205. [35] I have taken these dimensions from Middleton's Plan of the Palatine Hill (_ut supra_, p. 156), but until the site has been excavated they must be more or less conjectural. [36] Middleton, _Ibid._, I. 185-188. The evidence for the portraits rests on the following passage in the _Annals_ of Tacitus ii. 37, where he is relating how Hortalus, grandson of the orator Hortensius, being reduced to poverty, came with his four children to the Senate: "igitur quatuor filiis ante limen curiæ adstantibus, loco sententiæ, cum in Palatio senatus haberetur, modo Hortensii inter oratores sitam imaginem, modo Augusti, intuens, ad hunc modum coepit." [37] Pausanias, _Attica_, Book I., Chap. 18, § 9, ed. J. G. Frazer, Vol. I., p. 26. [38] The above description is derived from Miss Harrison's book, _ut supra_, pp. 195-198; Pausanias, ed. J. G. Frazer, Vol. II., pp. 184, 185. [39] Eusebius, _Chronicon_, ed. Schöne, Vol. II., p. 167. [40] Middleton, _Ancient Rome_, I. 186. [41] _Tristia_, III. 59. [42] _Epist._, I. 3. 17. [43] _Noctes Atticæ_, V. 21. 9. [44] Vopiscus, _Hist. Aug. Script._, II. 637. [45] Aulus Gellius, _ut supra_, XVI. 8. 2. [46] _Ibid._, XI. 17. 1. [47] Flavii Vopisci _Tacitus_, c. 8. [48] Id., _Aurelianus_, c. 1. [49] _Noctes Atticæ_, XIX. 5. [50] Plutarch, _Lucullus_, Chap. XLII. [Greek: Spondês d' axia kai logoy ta peri tên tôn bibliôn kataskeuên. kai gar polla, kai gegrammena kalôs, sunêge, ê te chrêsis ên philotimotera tês ktêseôs, aneimenôn pasi tôn bibliothêkôn, kai tôn peri autas peripatôn kai scholaotêrlôn akôlutôs upodechomenôn tous Ellênas, ôsper eis Mousôn ti katagôgion ekeise phoitôntas kai sundiêmereuontas allêlois, apo tôn allôn chreiôn asmenôs apotrechontas]. [51] _De Tranquillitate Animi_, Chap. IX. Studiorum quoque quæ liberalissima impensa est, tamdiu rationem habet quamdiu modum. Quo innumerabiles libros et bibliothecas quarum dominus vix tota vita indices perlegit? onerat discentem turba, non instruit, multoque satius est paucis te auctoribus tradere, quam errare per multos. Quadraginta milia librorum Alexandriæ arserunt: pulcherrimum regiæ opulentiæ monumentum alius laudaverit, sicut et Livius, qui _elegantiæ regum curæque egregium id opus_ ait _fuisse_: non fuit elegantia illud aut cura, sed studiosa luxuria, immo ne studiosa quidem, quoniam non in studium sed in spectaculum comparaverant sicut plerisque ignaris etiam servilium literarum libri non studiorum instrumenta sed coenationum ornamenta sunt. Paretur itaque librorum quantum satis sit, nihil in adparatum. "Honestius" inquis "hoc impensis quas in Corinthia pictasque tabulas effuderim." Vitiosum est ubique quod nimium est. Quid habes cur ignoscas homini armaria citro atque ebore captanti, corpora conquirenti aut ignotorum auctorum aut improbatorum et inter tot milia librorum oscitanti, cui voluminum suorum frontes maxime placent titulique? Apud desidiosissimos ergo videbis quicquid orationum historiarumque est, tecto tenus exstructa loculamenta. Iam enim inter balnearia et thermas bibliotheca quoque ut necessarium domus ornamentum expolitur. Ignoscerem plane, si studiorum nimia cupidine oriretur: nunc ista conquisita, cum imaginibus suis descripta, sacrorum opera ingeniorum in speciem et cultum parietum comparantur. With this passage may be compared Lucian's tract: [Greek: Êros apaideuton kai polla biblia ônoumenon.] My friend Mr F. Darwin in informs me that the Latin citrus, or Greek [Greek: kedros], is the coniferous tree called _Thuia articulata = Callitris quadrivalvis_. See Helm, _Kulturpflanzen_, Berl. 1894. Engl. Trans, p. 431. [52] Lanciani, _Ancient Rome_, 8vo. 1888, p. 193. [53] _Ancient Rome_, ed. 1892, ii. 254. [54] _Phil. Trans._, Vol. XLVIII., Pt 2, p. 634. [55] _Ibid._, p. 821. [56] _Ibid._, p. 825. [57] _Opere di G. G. Winckelmann_, Prato, 1831, VII. 197. [58] Lanciani, _Ruins of Ancient Rome_, pp. 213-217. He describes and figures Ligorio's elevation, from MS. Vat. 3439, in _Commissione Archeologica Comunale di Roma_, Ann. X. Ser. II., 1882. pp. 29-54. See also Middleton, _Ancient Rome_, 1892, II. 15-19. The plan of Rome called the Capitoline Plan, because it is now preserved in the Museum of the Capitol, was fixed to the north-east wall (fig. 7. 3). [59] The average length of a roll may be taken at 20-30 ft.; the width at 9-11 in. See _The Palæography of Greek Papyri_, by F. G. Kenyon, Oxf. 1899, Chap. II. [60] The breadth of these columns from left to right was not great, and their length was considerably shorter than the width of the roll, as a margin was left at the top and bottom. [61] _Antichità di Ercolano_, Fol. Napoli, 1779. Vol. V., Tavola 55, p. 243. [62] In this statue the roll is a restoration, but a perfectly correct one. It is original, and slightly different, in the replica of the statue at Knowle Park, Sevenoaks, Kent. See a paper on this statue by J. E. Sandys. Litt.D. in _Mélanges Weil_, 1898. pp. 423-428. [63] Horace, _Epodes_, XIV. 5-8. Comp. Martial, _Epigrams_, IV. 89. Ohe! libelle, Iam pervenimus usque ad umbilicos. [64] _Tristia_, I. i. 109. [65] Catullus (XXII. 7) says of a roll which had been got up with special smartness: Novi umbilici, lora rubra, membrana Directa plumbo, et pumice omnia æquata. [66] Lucian, _Adv. Indoct._, Chap. 16. [67] _Epigrams_, X. 93. [68] My friend M. R. James, Litt.D., of King's College, has kindly given me the following note: In the apocryphal Assumption of Moses Joshua is told to 'cedar' Moses' words (= rolls), and to lay them up in Jerusalem: "quos ordinabis et chedriabis et repones in vasis fictilibus in loco quem fecit [Deus] ab initio creaturæ orbis terrarum." Assump. Mos., ed. Charles, I. 17. See also Dueange, s.v. Cedria. Vitruvius (II. ix. 13) says: "ex cedro oleum quod cedreum dicitur nascitur, quo reliquæ res cum sint unctæ, uti etiam libri, a tineis et earie non læduntur." See above, p. 22. [69] _Epigrams_, III. ii. 6. [70] Ovid (_Tristia_, I. i. 105) addressing his book, says: Cum tamen in nostrum fueris penetrale receptus Contigerisque tuam, scrinia curva, domum. [71] _Epigrams_, I. 117. [72] _Epigrams_, VII. 17. [73] Suet. _Aug._ 31. Libros Sibyllinos condidit duobus _forulis_ auratis sub Palatini Apollinis basi. [74] _Sat._ III. 219. [75] _Georg._ IV. 250. [76] _De Re Rustica_, VIII. 8. Paxillis adactis tabulæ superponantur; quæ vel loculamenta quibus nidificent aves, vel fictilia columbaria, recipiant. [77] _Ibid._, IX. 12. 2. The writer, having described bees swarming, proceeds: protinus custos novum loculamentum in hoc præparatum perlinat intrinsecus prædictis herbis ... tum manibus aut etiam trulla congregatas apes recondat, atque ... diligenter compositum et illitum vas ... patiatur in eodem loco esse dum advesperascat. Primo deinde crepusculo transferat et reponat in ordinem reliquarum alvorum. [78] Vegetius, _Art. Vet._, III. 32. Si iumento loculamenta dentium vel dentes doluerint. [79] Vitruvius, _De Arch._, ed. Schneider, X. 9. Insuper autem ad capsum redæ loculamentum firmiter figatur habens tympanum versatile in cultro collocatum, etc. [80] Dr. Sandys, in his edition of Aristotle's _Constitution of Athens_, 1893, p. 174, has shewn that in the office of the public clerk a similar contrivance was used, called [Greek: epistulion]: "a shelf supporting a series of pigeon-holes, and itself supported by wooden pedestals." [81] Ulpian, _Digest_, 33. 7. 12. In emptionem domus et specularia et pegmata cedere solent, sive in æditiciis sint posita, sive ad tempus detracta. [82] _Ibid._, 29. 1. 17. Reticuli circa columnas, plutei circa parietes, item cilicia, vela, ædium non sunt. [83] _Sat._ II. 4. I do not think that these lines refer to a library. The whole house, not a single room in it, is full of plaster busts of philosophers. [84] _Ep._ cv. (ed. Billerbeck); _Ad Att._ IV. 4, p. 2. [85] _Ep._ cvi. (_ibid._); _Ad Att._ IV. 5. [86] _Ep._ cxi. (_ibid._); _Ad Att._ IV. 8. [87] This cut is given in _Antiquitatum et Annalium Trevirensium libri_ XXV. Auctoribus RR. PP. Soc. Jesu P. Christophoro Browero, et P. Jacobo Masenio. 2 v. fol. Leodii, 1670. It is headed: Schema voluminum in bibliothecam (sic) ordine olim digestorum Noviomagi in loco Castrorum Constantini M. hodiedum in lapide reperto excisum. See also C. G. Schwarz, _De Ornamentis Librorum_, 4to, Lips. 1756, pp. 86, 172, 231, and Tab. II., fig. 4. I learnt this reference from Sir E. M. Thompson's _Handbook of Greek and Latin Palæography_, ed. 2, 1894, p. 57, _note_. The Director of the Museum at Trèves informs me that all the antiquities discovered at Neumagen were destroyed in the seventeenth century. [88] See above, p. 11. [89] _Ibid._, p. 12. [90] _Epigrams_, Lib. IX. _Introduction_. [91] The whole relief is figured in Seyffert, _Dictionary of Classical Antiquities_, ed. Nettleship and Sandys, p. 649. [92] _De Architectura_, Lib. VII, Pref. [Aristophanes] e certis amiariis infinita volumina eduxit. [93] _Digesta Justiniani Augusti_, ed. Mommsen. 8vo. Berlin, 1870. Vol. II. p. 88. Book XXXII. 52. [94] This is the date of the _Columna cochlis_. Middleton's Rome, II. 24 note. [95] Nibby, _Roma Antica_, 8vo. Roma, 1839, p. 188. [96] _Epist._ II. 17. 8. Parieti eius [cubiculi mei] in bibliothecæ speciem armarium insertum est quod non legendos libros sed lectitandos capit. [97] I should not have known of the existence of this sarcophagus had it not been figured, accurately enough on the whole, in _Le Palais de Scaurus_, by Mazois, published at Paris in 1822. The sarcophagus had passed through the hands of several collectors since Mazois figured it, and I had a long and amusing search for it. [98] _Mittheilungen des K. D. Archaeologischen Instituts Rom_, 1900, Band XV. p. 171. Der Sarkophag eines Arztes. [99] The inscription is printed in full in _Antike Bilderwerke in Rom ... beschrieben von Friedrich Matz., und F. von Duhn_, 3 vols., 8vo. Leipzig, 1881, Vol. II. p. 346, No. 3127^*. [100] Garrucci, _Arte Christiana_, Vol. IV. p. 39. It would appear from some curious drawings on glass figured by Garrucci, _ut supra_ Pl. 490, that the Jews used presses of similar design in their synagogues to contain the rolls of the law. [101] The original of this picture is 18 in. high by 9-3/4 in. broad, including the border. It could not be photographed, and therefore, through the kind offices of Miss G. Dixon, and Signor Biagi, Librarian of the Laurentian Library, the services of a thoroughly capable artist, Professor Attilio Formilli, were secured to make an exact copy in water colours. This he has done with singular taste and skill. My figure has been reduced from this copy. The press has also been figured in outline by Garrucci, _Arte Christiana_, Vol. III., Pl. 126. [102] The romantic story of the _Codex Amiatinus_ is fully narrated by Mr H. J. White in _Studia Biblica et Ecclesiastica_, 8vo. Oxf. 1890, II. pp. 273-308. [103] The _Octateuch_, or, the five books of Moses, with the addition of Joshua, Judges, and Ruth. [104] _Consol. Philosoph._, Book I. Ch. 5. Nec bibliothecæ potius comptos ebore ac vitro parietes quam tuæ mentis sedem requiro. [105] _Origines_, Book VI. Ch. ii. Cum peritiores architecti neque aurea lacunaria ponenda in bibliothecis putent neque pavimenta alia quam a Carysteo marmore, quod auri fulgor hebetat et Carystei viriditas reficiat oculos. [106] _Apol. adv. Rufinum_, ii. 20: Opera, ed. Vallarsi, II. 549. [107] _De Origine Historia Indicibus scrinii et bibliothecæ Sedis Apostolicæ commentatio Ioannis Baptistæ de Rossi...._ 4to. Romæ, 1886, Chapter V. A brief, but accurate, summary of his account will be found in Lanciani's _Ancient Rome_, 8vo. 1888, pp. 187-190. Father C. J. Ehrle has given me much help on this difficult question. [108] _Sidonii Apollinaris Opera_, ed. Sirmondi. 4to. Paris, 1652. Notes, p. 33. The words of this letter, which I have translated very freely, are as follows: Sed dum hæc tacitus mecum revolvo, occurrit mihi quod in Bibliotheca studiosi sæcularium litterarum puer quondam, ut se ætatis illius curiositas habet, prætereundo legissem. Nam cum supra memoratæ ædis ordinator ac dominus, inter expressas lapillis aut ceris discoloribus, formatasque effigies vel Oratorum vel etiam Poetarum specialia singulorum autotypis epigrammata subdidisset; ubi ad præiudicati eloquii venit poetam, hoc modo orsus est. The last three lines of the inscription are from the _Æneid_, Book I. 607. I owe the most important part of the translation of Rusticus to Lanciani, _ut supra_, p. 196: that of Virgil is by Professor Conington. [109] I have taken the text of the inscription, and my account of Agapetus and his work, from De Rossi, _ut supra_, Chap. VIII. p. lv. [110] Cassiodorus, _De Inst. Div. Litt._ Chap. XXX. pp. 1145, 46. Ed. Migne. De Rossi, _ut supra_. [111] Versus qui scripti sunt in armaria sua ab ipso [Isidoro] compositi. _Cod. Vat. Pal._ 1877, a MS. which came from Lorch in Germany. De Rossi, _ut supra_. Chap. VII. [112] _Isidori Opera Omnia_, 410. Rome, 1803. Vol. VII. p. 179. [113] See Hen. Stevenson, _Topografia e Monumenti di Roma nelle Pitture a fresco di Sisto V. della Biblioteca Vaticana_, p. 7; in _Al Sommo Pontefice Leone XIII. Omaggio Giubilare della Biblioteca Vaticana_, Fol. Rome, 1881. [114] Signor Lanciani (_Ancient Rome_, p. 195) was the first to suggest a comparison between the Vatican Library and those of ancient Rome. APPENDIX TO CHAPTER I. DECORATION OF THE VATICAN LIBRARY. The system of decoration carried out in this Library, of which I have just given a summary description, is so interesting, and bears evidence of so much care and thought, that I subjoin a detailed account of it, which, by the kindness of Father Ehrle, prefect of the Library, I was enabled to draw up during my late visits to Rome. The diagrammatic ground-plan (fig. 18) which accompanies this description, if studied in conjunction with the general view (fig. 16), will make the relation of the subjects to each other perfectly clear. The visitor is supposed to enter the Library from the vestibule at the east end; and the notation of the piers, windows, wall-frescoes, etc., begins from the same end. Further, the visitor is supposed to examine the east face of each pier first, and then to turn to the left. I will begin with the figures on the central piers and half-piers. These figures are painted in fresco, of heroic size: and over their heads are the letters which they are supposed to have invented. 1. PILASTER AGAINST EAST WALL. ADAM. A tall stalwart figure dressed in short chiton. He holds an apple in his left hand, and a mattock in his right. Adam divinitus edoctus primus scientiarum et litterarum inventor. 2. FIRST PIER. (_a_) ABRAHAM. Abraham Syras et Chaldaicas litteras invenit. (_b_) THE SONS OF SETH. Filii Seth columnis duabus rerum coelestium disciplinam inscribunt. (_c_) ESDRAS. Esdras novas Hebraeorum litteras invenit. (_d_) MOSES. Moyses antiquas Hebraicas litteras invenit. On the cornice of the presses round this pier are the following inscriptions: (_a_) Doctrina bona dabit gratiam. Prov. xiii. 15. (_b_) Volo vos sapientes esse in bono. Rom. xvi. 19. (_c_) Impius ignorat scientiam. Prov. xxix. 7. (_d_) Cor sapientis quærit doctrinam. Prov. xv. 14. 3. SECOND PIER. (_a_) MERCURY. Mercurius Thovt Ægyptiis sacras litteras conscripsit. (_b_) ISIS. Isis regina Ægyptiarum litterarum inventrix. (_c_) MENON. Menon Phoroneo æqualis litteras in Ægypto invenit. (_d_) HERCULES. Hercules ægyptius Phrygias litteras invenit. On the cornice of the presses: (_a_) Recedere a malo intelligentia. Job xxviii. 28. (_b_) Timere Deum ipsa est sapientia. Job xxviii. 22. (_c_) Faciendi plures libros nullus est finis. Eccl. xii. 12. (_d_) Dat scientiam intelligentibus disciplinam. Dan. xi. 12. 4. THIRD PIER. (_a_) PHOENIX. Phoenix litteras Phoenicibus tradidit. (_b_) CECROPS. Cecrops Diphyes primus Atheniensium rex Græcarum litterarum auctor. (_c_) LINUS. Linus Thebanus litterarum Græcarum inventor. (_d_) CADMUS. Cadmus Phoenicis frater litteras xvi in Græciam intulit. On the cornice of the presses: (_a_) In malevolam animam non introibit sapientia. Sap. i. 4. (_b_) Habentes solatio sanctos libros. 1 Mach. xii. 9. (_c_) Cor rectum inquirit scientiam. Prov. xxvii. 12. (_d_) Sapientiam qui abiicit infelix est. Sap. iii. 14. 5. FOURTH PIER. (_a_) PYTHAGORAS. Pythagoras. Y. litteram ad humanæ vitæ exemplum invenit. (_b_) PALAMEDES. Palamedes bello Troiano Græcis litteris quattuor adiecit. (_c_) SIMONIDES. Simonides Melicus quattuor Græcarum litterarum inventor. (_d_) EPICHARMUS. Epicharmus Siculus duas Græcas addidit litteras. On the cornice of the presses: (_a_) Qui evitat discere incidet in mala. Prov. vii. 16. (_b_) Non glorietur sapiens in sapientia sua. Ier. ix. 23. (_c_) Si quis indiget sapientia postulet a Deo. Iac. i. 15. (_d_) Melior est sapientia cunctis pretiosissimis. Prov. viii. 11. 6. FIFTH PIER. (_a_) EVANDER. Evander Carment. F. aborigines litteras docuit. (_b_) NICOSTRATA. Nicostrata Carmenta latinarum litterarum inventrix. (_c_) DEMARATUS. Demaratus Corinthius etruscarum litterarum auctor. (_d_) CLAUDIUS. Claudius imperator tres novas litteras adinvenit. On the cornice of the presses: (_a_) Non erudietur qui non est sapiens in bono. Eccl. xxi. 24. (_b_) Viri intelligentes loquantur mihi. Iac. xxxiv. 34. (_c_) Non peribit consilium a sapienti. Ier. xviii. 18. (_d_) Sapientiam atque doctrinam stulti despiciunt. Prov. i. 17. 7. SIXTH PIER. (_a_) CHRYSOSTOM. S. Io. Chrysostomus litterarum Armenicarum auctor. (_b_) VLPHILAS. Vlphilas Episcopus Gothorum litteras invenit. (_c_) CYRIL. S. Cyrillus aliarum Illyricarum litterarum auctor. (_d_) JEROME. S. Hieronymus litterarum Illyricarum inventor. On the cornice of the presses: (_a_) Scientia inflat charitas vero ædificat. Cor. viii. 1. (_b_) Sapere ad sobrietatem. Rom. xii. 3. (_c_) Vir sapiens fortis et vir doctus robustus. Prov. xxiv. 5. (_d_) Ubi non est scientia animæ non est bonum. Prov. xix. 2. 8. PILASTER AGAINST WEST WALL. CHRIST. Our Lord is seated. Over His Head [Greek: Alpha], [Greek: Omega]; in His Hand an open book: Ego sum [Greek: Alpha] et [Greek: Omega]; principium et finis. At His Feet: Iesus Christus summus magister, cælestis doctrinæ auctor. On Christ's right hand is a POPE, standing, with triple cross and tiara. Christi Domini vicarius. On Christ's left hand is an EMPEROR, also standing, with crown, sword, blue mantle. Ecclesiæ defensor. I will now pass to the decoration of the walls. On the south wall, between the windows, are representations of famous libraries; on the north wall, of the eight general Councils of the Church. Each space is ornamented with a broad border, like a picture-frame. In the centre above is the general title of the subject or subjects below: e.g. _Bibliotheca Romanorum_; and beneath each picture is an inscription describing the special subject. Above each window, on the vault, is a large picture, to commemorate the benefits conferred by Sixtus V. on Rome and on the world. I will describe the libraries first, beginning as before at the east end of the room. I. SIXTUS V. AND THE ARCHITECT FONTANA. (Right of Entrance.) Sixtus V. Pont. M. Bibliothecæ Vaticanæ aedificationem prescribit. The Pope is seated. Fontana, a pair of compasses in his right hand, is on one knee, exhibiting the plan of the intended library. II. MOSES ENTRUSTS THE TABLES OF THE LAW TO THE LEVITES. (Left of Entrance.) Moyses librum legis Levitis in tabernaculo reponendum tradit. Moses hands a large folio to a Levite, behind whom more Levites are standing. Soldiers, etc., stand behind Moses. Tents in background. III. BIBLIOTHECA HEBRÆA. (On first wall-space south side.) Esdras sacerdos et scriba Bibliothecam sacram restituit. Ezra, attired in a costume that is almost Roman, stands in the centre of the picture, his back half turned to the spectator. An official is pointing to a press full of books. Porters are bringing in others. IV. BIBLIOTHECA BABYLONICA. (Two pictures.) (_a_) _The education of Daniel in Babylon._ Daniel et socii linguam scientiamque Chaldæorum ediscunt. Daniel and other young men are writing and reading at a table on the right of the picture. A group of elderly men in front of them to the left. Behind these is a lofty chair and desk, beneath which is a table at which a group of boys are reading and writing. In the background a set of book-shelves with a desk, quite modern in style. (_b_) _The search for the decree of Cyrus._ Cyri decretum de templi restauratione Darii iussu perquiritur. Darius, crowned, his back half turned to the spectator, is giving orders to several young men, who are taking books out of an _armarium_--evidently copied from one of the Vatican book-cupboards. V. BIBLIOTHECA ATHENIENSIS. (Two pictures.) (_a_) _Pisistratus arranges a library at Athens._ Pisistratus primus apud Græcos publicam bibliothecam instituit. Pisistratus, in armour, over which is a blue mantle, is giving orders to an old man who kneels before him, holding an open book. Behind the old man attendants are placing books on desks--others are reading. Behind Pisistratus is a group of officers, and behind them again a book-press without doors, and a row of open books on the top. (_b_) _Restoration of the library by Seleucus._ Seleucus bibliothecam a Xerxe asportatam referendam curat. Servants are bringing in books which are being hastily packed into cases. In the background is seen the sea, with a ship; and the door of the palace. A picture full of life and movement. VI. BIBLIOTHECA ALEXANDRINA. (Two pictures.) (_a_) _Ptolemy organises the library at Alexandria._ Ptolemæus ingenti bibliotheca instructa Hebreorum libros concupiscit. Ptolemy, a dignified figure in a royal habit, stands in the centre. He is addressing an elderly man who stands on his right. Behind him are three porches, within which are seen desks and readers. In the central porch are closed presses, with rows of folios on the top. Below are desks, at which readers are seated, their backs turned to the presses. (_b_) _The Seventy Translators bring their work to Ptolemy._ LXXII interpretes ab Eleazaro missi sacros libros Ptolemæo reddunt. Ptolemy is seated on a throne to right of spectator with courtiers on his right and left. The messengers kneel before him, and hand him volumes. VII. BIBLIOTHECA ROMANORUM. (_a_) _Tarquin receives the Sibylline Books._ Tarquinius Superbus libros Sibyllinos tres aliis a muliere incensis tantidem emit. Tarquin, seated in the centre of the picture, receives three volumes from an aged and dignified woman. In front a lighted brazier in which the other books are burning. (_b_) _Augustus opens the Palatine library._ Augustus Cæs. Palatina Bibliotheca magnifice ornata viros litteratos fovet. Augustus, in armour, with imperial mantle, crown and sceptre, stands left of centre. An old man seated at his feet is writing from his dictation. Left of the Emperor are five desks; with five closed books lying on the top of each. These desks are very probably intended to represent those of the Vatican Library as arranged by Sixtus IV. Two men, crowned with laurel, are standing behind the last desk, conversing. Behind them again is a book-case of three shelves between a pair of columns. Books are lying on their sides on these shelves. Beneath the shelves is a desk, with books open upon it, and others on their sides beneath it. VIII. BIBLIOTHECA HIEROSOLIMITANA. _Alexander, Bishop and Martyr, collects a library at Jerusalem._ S. Alexander Episc. et Mart. Decio Imp. in magna temporum acerbitate sacrorum scriptorum libros Hierosolymis congregat. A picture full of movement, occupying the whole space between two windows. The saint is in the centre of the picture, seated. Young men are bringing in the books, and placing them on shelves. IX. BIBLIOTHECA CÆSARIENSIS. _Pamphilus, Priest and Martyr, collects a library at Cæsarea._ S. Pamphilus Presb. et Mart. admirandæ sanctitatis et doctrinæ Cæsareæ sacram bibliothecam conficit multos libros sua manu describit. Pamphilus, in centre of picture, is giving orders to porters who are bringing in a basket of books. On his left a large table at which a scribe is writing. S. Jerome, seated in right corner of picture, is apparently dictating to the scribe. Behind them is a large book-case on the shelves of which books lie on their sides; others are being laid on the top by a man standing on a ladder. In the left of the picture is a table covered with a green cloth, on which book-binders are at work. In front of this table a carpenter is preparing boards. In background, seen through a large window, is a view of Cæsarea. X. BIBLIOTHECA APOSTOLORUM. _S. Peter orders the safe-keeping of books._ S. Petrus sacrorum librorum thesaurum in Romana ecclesia perpetuo asservari jubet. S. Peter is standing before an altar on which are books and a cross. In front doctors are writing at a low table. [A small picture between window and west wall.] XI. BIBLIOTHECA PONTIFICUM. _The successors of S. Peter carry on the library-tradition._ Romani pontifices apostolicam bibliothecam magno studio amplificant atque illustrant. A pope, his left hand resting on a book, is earnestly conversing with a cardinal, whose back is half turned to the spectator. Another pope, with three aged men, in background. [A small picture on west wall.] We will now return to the east end of the room, and take the representations of Councils, painted on the east and north walls, in chronological order. I. II. CONCILIUM NICAENUM I. (On east wall.) _The first Council held at Nicæa_, A.D. 325. S. Silvestro PP. Constantino Mag. imp. Christus dei Filius patri consubstantialis declaratur Arii impietas condemnatur. _The burning of the books of Arius._ Ex decreto concilii Constantinus Imp. libros Arianorum comburi iubet. III. CONCILIUM CONSTANTINOPOLITANUM I. _The first Council held at Constantinople_, A.D. 381. S. Damaso PP. et Theodosio sen. imp. Spiritus Sancti divinitas propugnatur nefaria Macedonii hæresis extinguitur. IV. CONCILIUM EPHESINUM. _The Council held at Ephesus_, A.D. 431. S. Cælestino PP. et Theodosio Jun. Imp. Nestorius Christum dividens damnatur, B. Maria Virgo dei genetrix prædicatur. V. CONCILIUM CHALCEDONENSE. _The Council held at Chalcedon_, A.D. 451. S. Leone magno PP. et Marciano Imp. infelix Eutyches vnam tantum in Christo post incarnationem naturam asserens confutatur. VI. CONCILIUM CONSTANTINOPOLITANUM II. _The second Council held at Constantinople_, A.D. 553. Vigilio Papa et Iustiniano Imp. contentiones de tribus capitibus sedantur Origenis errores refelluntur. VII. CONCILIUM CONSTANTINOPOLITANUM III. _The third Council held at Constantinople_, A.D. 680. S. Agathone Papa Constantino pogonato Imp. monothelitæ hæretici vnam tantum in Christo voluntatem docentes exploduntur. VIII. CONCILIUM NICAENUM II. _The second Council held at Nicæa_, A.D. 787. Hadriano papa Constantino Irenes F. imp. impii iconomachi reiiciuntur sacrarum imaginum veneratio confirmatur. IX. X. CONCILIUM CONSTANTINOPOLITANUM IV. _The fourth Council held at Constantinople_, A.D. 869. Hadriano papa et Basilio imp. S. Ignatius patriarcha Constant. in suam sedem pulso Photio restituitur. _The burning of the books of Photius._ Ex decreto concilii Basilius Imp. chirographa Photii et conciliab. acta comburi iubet. In conclusion I will enumerate the series of eighteen large pictures on the side-walls and in the lunettes at each end of the room, representing, with some few exceptions, the benefits conferred on Rome by Sixtus. The most important of these pictures are above the windows (fig. 16), of which there are seven on each side-wall. A Latin couplet above the picture records the subject, and allegorical figures of heroic size, one on each side, further indicate the idea which it is intended to convey. The series begins at the east end of the room, over the door. I. _Procession of Sixtus to his coronation._ Hic tria Sixte tuo capiti diademata dantur Sed quantum in coelis te diadema manet. ELECTIO SACRA. MANIFESTATIO. On the left of this, over the First Nicene Council, is II. _Coronation of Sixtus, with façade of old S. Peter's._ Ad templum antipodes Sixtum comitantur euntem Jamque novus Pastor pascit ovile novum. HONOR. DIGNITAS. With the following picture the series on the south wall begins, above the windows: III. _An allegorical tableau. A lion with a human face, and a thunder-bolt in his right paw, stands on a green hill. A flock of sheep is feeding around._ Alcides partem Italiæ prædone redemit Sed totam Sixtus: dic mihi major uter. JUSTITIA. CASTIGATIO. IV. _The obelisk in front of old S. Peter's. The dome rising behind._ Dum stabit motus nullis Obeliscus ab Euris Sixte tuum stabit nomen honosque tuus. RELIGIO. MUNIFICENTIA. V. _An allegorical tableau. A tree loaded with fruits, up which a lion is trying to climb. A flock of sheep beneath._ Temporibus Sixti redeunt Saturnia regna Et pleno cornu copia fundit opes. CHARITAS. LIBERALITAS. VI. _A Columna Cochlis surmounted by a statue._ Ut vinclis tenuit Petrum sic alta columna Sustinet; hinc decus est dedecus unde fuit. SUBLIMATIO. MUTATIO. VII. _A crowd assembled in front of a church._ Sixtus regnum iniens indicit publica vota Ponderis o quanti vota fuisse vides. SALUS GENERIS HUMANI. PIETAS RELIGIONIS. VIII. _The Lateran Palace, with the Baptistery and Obelisk._ Quintus restituit Laterana palatia Sixtus Atque obelum medias transtulit ante foras. SANATIO. PURGATIO. IX. _A fountain erected by Sixtus._ Fons felix celebri notus super æthera versu Romulea passim jugis in urbe fuit. MISERATIO. BENIGNITAS. The next two pictures are above the arches leading from the west end of the library into the corridor: X. _Panorama of Rome as altered by Sixtus._ Dum rectas ad templa vias sanctissima pandit Ipse sibi Sixtus pandit ad astra viam. LÆTIFICATIO. NOBILITAS. XI. _An allegorical representation of the Tiara, with adoring worshippers._ Virgo intacta manet nec vivit adultera conjux Castaque nunc Roma est quæ fuit ante salax. CASTITAS. DEFENSIO. With the following picture the series on the north wall begins: XII. _Section of S. Peter's, with the dome._ Virginis absistit mirari templa Dianæ; Qui fanum hoc intrat Virgo Maria tuum. ÆQUIPARATIO. POTESTAS. XIII. _The Obelisk in the Circus of Nero._ Maximus est obelus circus quem maximus olim Condidit et Sixtus maximus inde trahit. REÆDIFICATIO. COGNITO VERI DEI. XIV. _The Tiber, with the Ponte Sisto, and the Ospedale di Santo Spirito._ Quæris cur tota non sit mendicus in Urbe: Tecta parat Sixtus suppeditatque cibos. CLEMENTIA. OPERATIO BONA. XV. _A similar view._ Jure Antoninum paulo vis Sixte subesse Nam vere hic pius est impius ille pius. ELECTIO SACRA. VERA GLORIA. XVI. _A similar view, with the Obelisk._ Transfers Sixte pium transferre an dignior alter Transferri an vero dignior alter erat. RECOGNITIO. GRATITUDO. XVII. _The Obelisk, now in front of S. Peter's, before it was removed._ Qui Regum tumulis obeliscus serviit olim Ad cunas Christi tu pie Sixte locas. OBLATIO. DEVOTIO. XVIII. _A fleet at sea._ Instruit hic Sixtus classes quibus æquora purget Et Solymos victos sub sua jura trahat. PROVIDENTIA. SECURITAS. [Illustration: Fig. 18. Rough groundplan of the great hall of the Vatican Library, to illustrate the account of the decoration.] CHAPTER II. CHRISTIAN LIBRARIES CONNECTED WITH CHURCHES. USE OF THE APSE. MONASTIC COMMUNITIES. S. PACHOMIUS. S. BENEDICT AND HIS SUCCESSORS. EACH HOUSE HAD A LIBRARY. ANNUAL AUDIT OF BOOKS. LOAN ON SECURITY. MODES OF PROTECTION. CURSES. PRAYERS FOR DONORS. ENDOWMENT OF LIBRARIES. USE OF THE CLOISTER. DEVELOPMENT OF CISTERCIAN BOOK-ROOM. COMMON PRESS. CARRELLS. GLASS. The evidence collected in the last chapter shews that what I have there called the Roman conception of a library was maintained, even by Christian ecclesiastics, during many centuries of our era. I have next to trace the beginning and the development of another class of libraries, directly connected with Christianity. We shall find that the books intended for the use of the new communities were stored in or near the places where they met for service, just as in the most ancient times the safe-keeping of similar treasures had been entrusted to temples. It is easy to see how this came about. The necessary service-books would be placed in the hands of the ecclesiastic who had charge of the building in which the congregation assembled. To these volumes--which at first were doubtless regarded in the same light as vestments or sacred vessels--treatises intended for edification or instruction would be gradually added, and so the nucleus of a library would be formed. The existence of such libraries does not rest on inference only. There are numerous allusions to them in the Fathers and other writers; S. Jerome, for instance, advises a correspondent to consult church-libraries, as though every church possessed one[115]. As however the allusions to them are general, and say nothing about extent or arrangement, this part of my subject need not detain us long[116]. The earliest collection of which I have discovered any record is that got together at Jerusalem, by Bishop Alexander, who died A.D. 250. Eusebius, when writing his Ecclesiastical History some eighty years later, describes this library as a storehouse of historical records, which he had himself used with advantage in the composition of his work[117]. A still more important collection existed at Cæsarea in Palestine. S. Jerome says distinctly that it was founded by Pamphilus, "a man who in zeal for the acquisition of a library wished to take rank with Demetrius Phalereus and Pisistratus[118]." As Pamphilus suffered martyrdom in A.D. 309, this library must have been got together soon after that at Jerusalem. It is described as not only extensive, but remarkable for the importance of the manuscripts it contained. Here was the supposed Hebrew original of S. Matthew's Gospel[119], and most of the works of Origen, got together by the pious care of Pamphilus, who had been his pupil and devoted admirer. S. Jerome himself worked in this library, and collated there the manuscripts which Origen had used when preparing his Hexapla[120]. At Cirta the church and the library were evidently in the same building, from the way in which they are spoken of in the account of the persecution of A.D. 303-304. "The officers," we are told, "went into the building (_domus_) where the Christians were in the habit of meeting." There they took an inventory of the plate and vestments. "But," proceeds the narrative, "when they came to the library, the presses there were found empty[121]." Augustine, on his deathbed, A.D. 430, gave directions that "the library of the church [at Hippo], and all the manuscripts, should be carefully preserved by those who came after him[122]." Further, there appears to be good reason for believing that when a church had a triple apse, the lateral apses were separated off by a curtain or a door, the one to contain the sacred vessels, the other the books. This view, which has been elaborated by De Rossi in explanation of three recesses in the thickness of the wall of the apse of a small private oratory discovered in Rome in 1876[123], is chiefly supported by the language of Paulinus, Bishop of Nola, who lived from about A.D. 353 to A.D. 431. He describes a basilica erected by himself at Nola in honour of S. Felix, martyr, as having "an apse divided into three (_apsidem trichoram_)[124]"; and in a subsequent passage, after stating that there are to be two recesses, one to the right, the other to the left of the apse, he adds, "these verses indicate the use of each[125]," and gives the following couplets, with their headings: _On the right of the Apse._ Hic locus est veneranda penus qua conditur, et qua Ponitur alma sacri pompa ministerii. Here are the sacred vessels stored, and here The peaceful trappings of our holy rites. _On the left of the same._ Si quem sancta tenet meditandi in lege voluntas Hic poterit residens sacris intendere libris. Here he whose thoughts are on the laws of God May sit and ponder over holy books. As De Rossi explains, the first of the two niches was intended to contain the vessels and furniture of the altar; the second was reserved for the safe-keeping of the sacred books. The word _trichora_, in Greek [Greek: trichô], is used by later writers to designate a three-fold division of any object--as for instance, by Dioscorides, of the seed-pod of the acacia[126]. Whether this theory of the use of the apse be accurate or fanciful, the purely Christian libraries to which I have alluded were undoubtedly connected, more or less closely, with churches; and I submit that the libraries which in the Middle Ages were connected with cathedrals and collegiate churches are their lineal descendants. I have next to consider the libraries formed by monastic communities, the origin of which may be traced to very early times. Among the Christians of the first three centuries there were enthusiasts who, discontented with the luxurious life they led in the populous cities along the coasts of Africa and Syria, fled into the Egyptian deserts, there to lead a life of rigorous self-denial and religious contemplation. These hermits were presently joined by other hermits, and small communities were gradually formed, with a regular organization that foreshadowed the Rules and Customs of the later monastic life. Those who governed these primitive monasteries soon realised the fact that without books their inmates would relapse into barbarism, and libraries were got together. The Rule of S. Pachomius (A.D. 292-345), whose monastery was at Tabennisi near Denderah in Upper Egypt, provides that the books of the House are to be kept in a cupboard (_fenestra_) in the thickness of the wall. Any brother who wanted a book might have one for a week, at the end of which he was bound to return it. No brother might leave a book open when he went to church or to meals. In the evening the officer called "the Second," that is, the second in command, was to take charge of the books, count them, and lock them up.[127] These provisions, insisted upon at a very early date, form a suitable introduction to the most important section of my subject--the care of books by the Monastic Orders. With them book-preserving and book-producing were reduced to a system, and in their libraries--the public libraries of the Middle Ages--literature found a home, until the invention of printing handed over to the world at large the duties which had been so well discharged by special communities. This investigation is full of difficulty; and, though I hope to arrive at some definite conclusions respecting the position, size, dimensions, and fittings of monastic libraries, I must admit that my results depend to a certain extent on analogy and inference. It should be remembered that in England the monasteries were swept away more than three centuries ago by a sudden catastrophe, and that those who destroyed them were far too busy with their own affairs to place on record the aspect or the plan of what they were wrecking. In France again, though little more than a century has elapsed since her monasteries were overwhelmed by the Revolution, and though descriptions and views of many of her great religious houses have been preserved, and much has been done in the way of editing catalogues of their manuscripts, there is still a lamentable dearth of information on my particular subject. I shall begin by quoting some passages from the Rules and Customs of the different Orders, which shew (1) that reading was encouraged and enforced by S. Benedict himself, with whom the monastic life, as we conceive it, may be said to have originated; (2) that subsequently, as Order after Order was founded, a steady development of feeling with regard to books, and an ever-increasing care for their safe-keeping, can be traced. The Rule of S. Benedict was made public early in the sixth century; and the later Orders were but offshoots of the Benedictine tree, either using his Rule or basing their own statutes upon it. It will therefore be desirable to begin this research by examining what S. Benedict said on the subject of study, and I will translate a few lines from the 48th chapter of his Rule, _Of daily manual labour_. Idleness is the enemy of the soul; hence brethren ought, at certain seasons, to occupy themselves with manual labour, and again, at certain hours, with holy reading.... Between Easter and the calends of October let them apply themselves to reading from the fourth hour till near the sixth hour. From the calends of October to the beginning of Lent let them apply themselves to reading until the second hour.... During Lent, let them apply themselves to reading from morning until the end of the third hour ... and, in these days of Lent, let them receive a book apiece from the library, and read it straight through. These books are to be given out at the beginning of Lent[128]. In this passage the _library_--by which a book-press is probably to be understood--is specially mentioned. In other words, at that early date the formation of a collection of books was contemplated, large enough to supply the community with a volume apiece, without counting the service-books required for use in the church. The Benedictine Order flourished and increased abundantly for more than four centuries, until, about A.D. 912, the order of Cluni was established. It was so called from the celebrated abbey near Mâcon in Burgundy, which, though not the first house of the Order in point of date, became subsequently the first in extent, wealth, and reputation. As a stricter observance of the Rule of S. Benedict was the main object which the founder of this Order had in view, the Benedictine directions respecting study are maintained and developed. The Customs prescribe the following regulations for books: On the second day of Lent the only passage of the Rule to be read in Chapter is that concerning the observance of Lent. Then shall be read aloud a note (_brevis_) of the books which a year before had been given out to brethren for their reading. When a brother's name is called, he rises, and returns the book that had been given to him; and if it should happen that he has not read it through, he is to ask forgiveness for his want of diligence. A carpet on which those books are to be laid out is to be put down in the Chapter-House; and the titles of those which are distributed to brethren afresh are to be noted, for which purpose a tablet is to be made of somewhat larger size than usual[129]. In a subsequent chapter it is directed that the books are to be entrusted to the official "who is called Precentor and _Armarius_, because he usually has charge of the library, which is also called the _armarium_ (press)[130]. This arrangement shews that up to this date all the books, whether service-books or not, were regarded as belonging to the church. I come next to the decrees given to the English Benedictines by Archbishop Lanfranc in or about 1070. "We send you" he says "the Customs of our Order in writing, selected from the Customs of those houses (_coenobia_) which are in our day of the highest authority in the monastic order[131]." The section relating to books is so interesting that I will translate it. On the Monday after the first Sunday in Lent ... before the brethren go in to Chapter, the librarian (_custos librorum_) ought to have all the books brought together into the Chapter-House and laid out on a carpet, except those which had been given out for reading during the past year: these the brethren ought to bring with them as they come into Chapter, each carrying his book in his hand. Of this they ought to have had notice given to them by the aforesaid librarian on the preceding day in Chapter. Then let the passage in the Rule of S. Benedict about the observance of Lent be read, and a discourse be preached upon it. Next let the librarian read a document (_breve_) setting forth the names of the brethren who have had books during the past year; and let each brother, when he hears his own name pronounced, return the book which had been entrusted to him for reading; and let him who is conscious of not having read the book through which he had received, fall down on his face, confess his fault, and pray for forgiveness. Then let the aforesaid librarian hand to each brother another book for reading; and when the books have been distributed in order, let the aforesaid librarian in the same Chapter put on record the names of the books, and of those who receive them[132]. It is, I think, certain that when Lanfranc was writing this passage the Cluniac Customs must have been before him[133]. It should be noted that the librarian is not defined otherwise than as "keeper of the books," but we learn from the Customs of Benedictine houses subsequent to Lanfranc's time that this duty was discharged by the Precentor, as in the Cluniac Customs. For instance, in the Customs of the Benedictine house at Abingdon, in Berkshire, drawn up near the end of the twelfth century, we read: The precentor shall keep clean the presses belonging to the boys and the novices, and all others in which the books of the convent are stored, repair them when they are broken, provide coverings for the books in the library, and make good any damage done to them[134]. The precentor cannot sell, or give away, or pledge any books; nor can he lend any except on deposit of a pledge, of equal or greater value than the book itself. It is safer to fall back on a pledge, than to proceed against an individual. Moreover he may not lend except to neighbouring churches, or to persons of conspicuous worth[135]. The Customs of the Abbey of Evesham in Worcestershire give the same directions in a slightly different form. It is part of the precentor's duty to entrust to the younger monks the care of the presses, and to keep them in repair: whenever the convent is sitting in cloister, he is to go round the cloister as soon as the bell has sounded, and replace the books, in case any brother through carelessness should have forgotten to do so. He is to take charge of all the books in the monastery, and have them in his keeping, provided his carefulness and knowledge be such that they may be entrusted to him. No one is to take a book out unless it be entered on his roll: nor is any book to be lent to any one without a proper and sufficient voucher, and this too is to be set down on his roll[136]. The Carthusians--the second offshoot of the Benedictine tree (1084)--also preserved the primitive tradition of study. They not only read themselves, but were actively employed in writing books for others. In the chapter of their statutes which deals with the furniture allowed to each "tenant of a cell (_incola celle_)"--(for in this community each brother lived apart, with his sitting-room, bed-room, and plot of garden-ground)--all the articles needful for writing are enumerated, "for nearly all those whom we adopt we teach, if possible, to write," and then the writer passes on to books. Moreover he--[the tenant of the cell]--receives two books out of the press for reading. He is admonished to take the utmost care and pains that they be not soiled by smoke or dust or dirt of any kind; for it is our wish that books, as being the perpetual food of our souls, should be most jealously guarded, and most carefully produced, that we, who cannot preach the word of God with our lips, may preach it with our hands[137]. They did, however, on occasion lend books, for it is provided that when books are lent no one shall retain them contrary to the will of the lenders[138]. It would be interesting to know how this rule was enforced. The Cistercian Order--founded 1128--adopted the Benedictine Rule, and with it the obligation of study and writing. Moreover, in their anxiety to take due care of their books, they went further than their predecessors; for they entrusted them to a special officer, instead of to the precentor, and they admitted a special room to contain them into the ground-plan of their houses. At a later point I shall return to the interesting subject of the Cistercian book-room. For the present I must content myself with translating from their Customs the passage relating to books. It occurs in Chapter CXV., _Of the precentor and his assistant_. After describing his various duties, the writer proceeds: With regard to the production and safe-keeping of charters and books, the abbat is to consider to whom he shall entrust this duty. The officer so appointed may go as far as the doors of the writing-rooms when he wants to hand in or to take out a book, but he may not go inside. In the same way for books in common use, as for instance antiphoners, hymnals, graduals, lectionaries [etc.], and those which are read in the Prater and at Collation, he may go as far as the door of the novices, and of the sick, and of the writers, and then ask for what he wants by a sign, but he may not go further unless he have been commanded by the abbat. When Collation is over it is his duty to close the press, and during the period of labour, of sleep, and of meals, and while vespers are being sung, to keep it locked[139]. The Customs of the Augustinian Order are exceedingly full on the subject of books. I will translate part of the 14th chapter of the Customs in use at Barnwell[140], near Cambridge. It is headed: _Of the safe keeping of the books, and of the office of Librarian (armarius)._ As the passage occurs also in the Customs as observed in France and in Belgium, it may be taken, I presume, to represent the general practice of the Order. The Librarian, who is called also Precentor, is to take charge of the books of the church; all which he ought to keep and to know under their separate titles; and he should frequently examine them carefully to prevent any damage or injury from insects or decay. He ought also, at the beginning of Lent, in each year, to shew them to the convent in Chapter, when the souls of those who have given them to the church, or of the brethren who have written them, and laboured over them, ought to be absolved, and a service in convent be held over them. He ought also to hand to the brethren the books which they see occasion to use, and to enter on his roll the titles of the books, and the names of those who receive them. These, when required, are bound to give surety for the volumes they receive; nor may they lend them to others, whether known or unknown, without having first obtained permission from the Librarian. Nor ought the Librarian himself to lend books unless he receive a pledge of equal value; and then he ought to enter on his roll the name of the borrower, the title of the book lent, and the pledge taken. The larger and more valuable books he ought not to lend to anyone, known or unknown, without permission of the Prelate.... Books which are to be kept at hand for daily use, whether for singing or reading, ought to be in some common place, to which all the brethren can have easy access for inspection, and selection of anything which seems to them suitable. The books, therefore, ought not to be carried away into chambers, or into corners outside the Cloister or the Church. The Librarian ought frequently to dust the books carefully, to repair them, and to point them, lest brethren should find any error or hindrance in the daily service of the church, whether in singing or in reading. No other brother ought to erase or change anything in the books unless he have obtained the consent of the Librarian.... The press in which the books are kept ought to be lined inside with wood, that the damp of the walls may not moisten or stain the books. This press should be divided vertically as well as horizontally by sundry shelves on which the books may be ranged so as to be separated from one another; for fear they be packed so close as to injure each other or delay those who want them[141]. Further, as the books ought to be mended, pointed, and taken care of by the Librarian, so ought they to be properly bound by him. The Order of Prémontré--better known as the Premonstratensians, or reformed Augustinians--repeat the essential part of these directions in their statute, _Of the Librarian (armarius)_, with this addition, that it is to be part of the librarian's duty to provide for the borrowing of books for the use of the House, as well as for lending[142]. Lastly, the Friars, though property was forbidden, and S. Francis would not allow his disciples to own so much as a psalter or a breviary[143], soon found that books were a necessity, and the severity of early discipline was relaxed in favour of a library. S. Francis died in 1226, and only thirty-four years afterwards, among the constitutions adopted by a General Chapter of the Order held at Narbonne 10 June, 1260, are several provisions relating to books. They are of no great importance, taken by themselves, but their appearance at so early a date proves that books had become indispensable. It is enacted that no brother may write books, or have them written, for sale; nor may the chief officer of a province venture to keep books without leave obtained from the chief officer of the whole Order; no brother may keep the books assigned to him, unless they are altogether the property of the Order--and so forth[144]. A century later, when Richard de Bury, Bishop of Durham, was writing his _Philobiblon_ (completed 24 January, 1344-45), he could say of them and the other friars--whom, be it remembered, he, as a regular, would regard with scant favour-- But whenever it happened that we turned aside to the cities and places where the Mendicants had their convents we did not disdain to visit their libraries and any other repositories of books; nay there we found heaped up amidst the utmost poverty the utmost riches of wisdom. We discovered in their fardels and baskets not only crumbs falling from the master's table for the dogs, but the shewbread without leaven and the bread of angels having in it all that is delicious; and indeed the garners of Joseph full of corn, and all the spoil of the Egyptians and the very precious gifts which Queen Sheba brought to Solomon. These men are as ants ever preparing their meat in the summer, and ingenious bees continually fabricating cells of honey.... And to pay due regard to truth ... although they lately at the eleventh hour have entered the Lord's vineyard ..., they have added more in this brief hour to the stock of the sacred books than all the other vinedressers; following in the footsteps of Paul, the last to be called but the first in preaching, who spread the gospel of Christ more widely than all others[145]. At Assisi, the parent house of the Franciscan Order, there was a library of considerable extent, many volumes of which still exist, with a catalogue drawn up in 1381. At this point I will resume the conclusions which may be deduced from this examination of the Benedictine Rule and the Customs founded upon it. In the first place they all assume the existence of a library. S. Benedict contents himself with general directions about study. The Cluniacs put the books in charge of the precentor, who is to be called also _armarius_, and they prescribe an annual audit of them, with the assignment of a single volume to each brother, on the security of a written attestation of the fact. These regulations were adopted by the Benedictines, with fuller rules for the librarian, who is still precentor also. He is to keep both presses and books in repair, and personally to supervise the daily use of the manuscripts, restoring to their proper places those that brethren may have been reading. Among these rules permission to lend books on receipt of a pledge first makes its appearance. The Carthusians maintain the principle of lending. Each brother might have two books, and he is to be specially careful to keep them clean. The Cistercians appoint a special officer to have charge of the books, about the safety of which great care is to be taken, and at certain times of the day he is to lock the press. The Augustinians and the Premonstratensians follow the Cluniacs and Benedictines: but the Premonstratensians direct their librarian to take note of the books that the House borrows as well as of those that it lends; and they adopt the Cistercian precaution about his opening and locking the press. Secondly, by the time that Lanfranc was writing his statutes for English Benedictines, it was evidently contemplated that the number of books would have exceeded the number of brethren, for the keeper of the books is directed to bring all the books of the House into Chapter, and after that the brethren, one by one, are to bring in the books which they have borrowed[146]. Among the books belonging to the House there were probably some service-books; but, from the language used, it appears to me that we may fairly conclude that by the end of the eleventh century Benedictine Houses had two sets of books: (1) those which were distributed among the brethren; (2) those which were kept in some safe place, as part of the possessions of the House: or, to adopt modern phrases, that they had a lending library and a library of reference. Thirdly, it is evident that the loan of books to persons in general, on adequate security, began at a very early date. On this account I have already ventured to call monastic libraries the public libraries of the Middle Ages. As time went on, the practice was developed, and at last became general. It was even enjoined upon monks as a duty by their ecclesiastical superiors. In 1212 a Council which met at Paris made the following decree, but I am not able to say whether it was accepted out of France: We forbid those who belong to a religious Order, to formulate any vow against lending their books to those who are in need of them; seeing that to lend is enumerated among the principal works of mercy. After careful consideration, let some books be kept in the House for the use of brethren; others, according to the decision of the abbat, be lent to those who are in need of them, the rights of the House being safe-guarded. From the present date no book is to be retained under pain of incurring a curse [for its alienation], and we declare all such curses to be of no effect[147]. In the same century many volumes were bequeathed to the Augustinian House of S. Victor, Paris, on the express condition that they should be so lent[148]. It is almost needless to add that one abbey was continually lending to another, either for reading or for copying[149]. Houses which lent liberally would probably be the first to relax discipline so far as to admit strangers to their libraries; and in the sixteenth and following centuries the libraries of the Benedictine House of S. Germain des Près, Paris, as well as the already mentioned House of S. Victor, were open to all comers on certain days in the week. When we try to realise the feelings with which monastic communities regarded books, it must always be remembered that they had a paternal interest in them. In many cases they had been written in the very House in which they were afterwards read from generation to generation: and if not, they had probably been procured by the exchange of some work so written. In fact, if a book was not a son of the House, it was at least a nephew. The conviction that books were a possession with which no convent could dispense, appears in many medieval writers. The whole matter is summed up in the phrase, written about 1170, "claustrum sine armario, castrum sine armamentario[150]," an epigram which I will not spoil by trying to translate it; and even more clearly in the passionate utterances of Thomas à Kempis on the desolate condition of priest and convent without books[151]. The "round of creation" is explored for similes to enforce this truth. A priest so situated is like a horse without bridle, a ship without oars, a writer without pens, a bird without wings, etc.; while the House is like a kitchen without stewpans, a table without food, a well without water, a river without fish--and many other things which I have no space to mention. Evidence of the solicitude with which they protected their treasures is not wanting. The very mode of holding a manuscript was prescribed, if not by law, at least by general custom. "When the religious are engaged in reading in cloister or in church," says an Order of the General Benedictine Chapter, "they shall if possible hold the books in their left hands, wrapped in the sleeve of their tunics, and resting on their knees; their right hands shall be uncovered with which to hold and turn the leaves of the aforesaid books[152]." In a manuscript at Monte Cassino[153] is the practical injunction Quisquis quem tetigerit Sit illi lota manus; and at the same House the possession of handkerchiefs--which were evidently regarded as effeminate inventions--is specially excused on the ground that they would be useful--among other things--"for wrapping round the manuscripts which brethren handle[154]." Of similar import is the distich at the end of a fine manuscript formerly in the library of S. Victor: Qui servare libris preciosis nescit honorem Illius a manibus sit procul iste liber[155]. With these injunctions may be compared a note in a fourteenth century manuscript from the same library: Whoever pursues his studies in this book, should be careful to handle the leaves gently and delicately, so as to avoid tearing them by reason of their thinness; and let him imitate the example of Jesus Christ, who, when he had quietly opened the book of Isaiah and read therein attentively, rolled it up with reverence, and gave it again to the minister[156]; and the advice of Thomas à Kempis to the youthful students for whose benefit he composed the treatise called _Doctrinale Juvenum_ which I have already quoted: Take thou a book into thine hands as Simeon the Just took the Child Jesus into his arms to carry him and kiss him. And when thou hast finished reading, close the book and give thanks for every word out of the mouth of God; because in the Lord's field thou hast found a hidden treasure[157]. In a similar strain a writer or copyist entreats readers to be careful of his work--work which has cost him an amount of pains that they cannot realise. It is impossible to translate the original exactly, but I hope that I have given the meaning with tolerable clearness: I beseech you, my friend, when you are reading my book to keep your hands behind its back, for fear you should do mischief to the text by some sudden movement; for a man who knows nothing about writing thinks that it is no concern of his. Whereas to a writer the last line is as sweet as port is to a sailor. Three fingers hold the pen, but the whole body toils. Thanks be to God. I Warembert wrote this book in God's name. Thanks be to God. Amen[158]. Entreaties so gentle and so pathetic as these are seldom met with; but curses--in the same strain probably as those to which the Council of Paris took exception--are extremely common. In fact, in some Houses, a manuscript invariably ended with an imprecation--more or less severe, according to the writer's taste[159]. I will append a few specimens. This book belongs to S. Maximin at his monastery of Micy, which abbat Peter caused to be written, and with his own labour corrected and punctuated, and on Holy Thursday dedicated to God and S. Maximin on the altar of S. Stephen, with this imprecation that he who should take it away from thence by what device soever, with the intention of not restoring it, should incur damnation with the traitor Judas, with Annas, Caiaphas, and Pilate. Amen[160]. Should anyone by craft or any device whatever abstract this book from this place [Jumièges] may his soul suffer, in retribution for what he has done, and may his name be erased from the book of the living and not be recorded among the Blessed[161]. A simpler form of imprecation occurs very frequently in manuscripts belonging to S. Alban's: This book belongs to S. Alban. May whosoever steals it from him or destroys its title be anathema. Amen[162]. A similar form of words occurs at the Cistercian House of Clairvaux, a great school of writing like S. Alban's, but whether it habitually protected its manuscripts in this manner I am unable to say: May whoever steals or alienates this manuscript, or scratches out its title, be anathema. Amen[163]. A very curious form of curse occurs in one of the manuscripts of Christ Church, Canterbury. The writer repents of his severity in the last sentence. May whoever destroys this title, or by gift or sale or loan or exchange or theft or by any other device knowingly alienates this book from the aforesaid Christ Church, incur in this life the malediction of Jesus Christ and of the most glorious Virgin His Mother, and of Blessed Thomas, Martyr. Should however it please Christ, who is patron of Christ Church, may his soul be saved in the Day of Judgment[164]. Lastly, I will quote a specimen in verse, from a breviary now in the library of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge: Wher so ever y be come over all I belonge to the Chapell of gunvylle hall: He shal be cursed by the grate sentens That felonsly faryth and berith me thens. And whether he bere me in pooke or sekke, For me he shall be hanged by the nekke, (I am so well beknown of dyverse men) But I be restored theder agen[165]. On the other hand, the gift of books to a monastery was gratefully recorded and enumerated among the good deeds of their donors. Among the Augustinians such gifts, and the labour expended upon books in general, was the subject of a special service[166]. It is not uncommon to find a monastic library regularly endowed with part of the annual revenue of the House. For instance, at Corbie, the librarian received 10 sous from each of the higher, and 5 sous from each of the inferior officers, together with a certain number of bushels of corn from lands specially set apart for the purpose. This was confirmed by a bull of Pope Alexander III. (1166-1179)[167]. A similar arrangement was made at the library of S. Martin des Champs, Paris, in 1261[168]. At the Benedictine Abbey of Fleury, near Orleans, in 1146, it was agreed in chapter on the proposition of the abbat, that in each year on S. Benedict's winter festival (21 March), he and the priors subordinate to him, together with the officers of the House, should all contribute "to the repair of our books, the preparation of new ones, and the purchase of parchment." The name of each contributor, and the sum that he was to give, are recorded[169]. At the Benedictine Monastery of Ely Bishop Nigel (1133-1174) granted the tithe of certain churches in the diocese "as a perpetual alms to the _scriptorium_ of the church of Ely for the purpose of making and repairing the books of the said church[170]." The books referred to were probably, in the first instance, service-books; but the number required of these could hardly have been sufficient to occupy the whole time of the scribes, and the library would doubtless derive benefit from their labours. The _scriptorium_ at S. Alban's was also specially endowed. We must next consider the answer to the following questions: In what part of their Houses did the Monastic Orders bestow their books? and what pieces of furniture did they use? The answer to the first of these questions is a very curious one, when we consider what our climate is, and indeed what the climate of the whole of Europe is, during the winter months. The centre of the monastic life was the cloister. Brethren were not allowed to congregate in any other part of the conventual buildings, except when they went into the frater, or dining-hall, for their meals, or at certain hours in certain seasons into the warming-house (_calefactorium_). In the cloister accordingly they kept their books; and there they wrote and studied, or conducted the schooling of the novices and choir-boys, in winter and in summer alike. It is obvious that their work must have been at the mercy of the elements during many months of the year, and some important proofs that such was the case can be quoted. Cuthbert, Abbat of Wearmouth and Jarrow in the second half of the eighth century, excuses himself to a correspondent for not having sent him all the works of Bede which he had asked for, on the ground that the intense cold of the previous winter had paralysed the hands of his scribes[171]; Ordericus Vitalis, who wrote in the first half of the twelfth century, closes the fourth book of his Ecclesiastical History with a lament that he must lay aside his work for the winter[172]; and a monk of Ramsey Abbey in Huntingdonshire has recorded his discomforts in a Latin couplet which seems to imply that in a place so inconvenient as a cloister all seasons were equally destructive of serious work: In vento minime pluvia nive sole sedere Possumus in claustro nec scribere neque studere[173]. As we sit here in tempest in rain snow and sun Nor writing nor reading in cloister is done. But, when circumstances were more propitious, plenty of good work that was of permanent value could be done in a cloister. A charming picture has come down to us of the literary activity that prevailed in the Abbey of S. Martin at Tournai at the end of the eleventh century, when Abbat Odo was giving an impulse to the writing of MSS. "When you entered the cloister," says his chronicler, "you could generally see a dozen young monks seated on chairs, and silently writing at desks of careful and artistic design. With their help, he got accurate copies made of all Jerome's commentaries on the Prophets, of the works of Blessed Gregory, and of all the treatises he could find of Augustine, Ambrose, Isidore, and Anselm; so that the like of his library was not to be found in any of the neighbouring churches; and those attached to them used generally to ask for our copies for the correction of their own[174]." The second question cannot be answered so readily. We must begin by examining, in some detail, the expressions used to denote furniture in the various documents that deal with conventual libraries. S. Pachomius places his books in a cupboard (_fenestra_); S. Benedict uses only the general term, library (_bibliotheca_), which may mean either a room or a piece of furniture; and the word press (_armarium_), with which we become so familiar afterwards, does not make its appearance till near the end of the eleventh century. Lanfranc does not use it, but as I have shewn that he based his statutes, at least to some extent, on the Cluniac Customs, and as they identify the library (_bibliotheca_) with the press (_armarium_), and call the librarian, termed by Lanfranc the keeper of the books, the keeper of the press (_armarius_), we may safely assume that the books to which Lanfranc refers were housed in a similar piece of furniture. Moreover, in Benedictine houses of later date, as for instance at Abingdon and Evesham, the word is constantly employed. I pointed out in the first chapter that the word press (_armarium_) was used by the Romans to signify both a detached piece of furniture and a recess in a wall into which such a contrivance might be inserted[175]. The same use obtained in medieval times[176], and the passage quoted above from the Augustinian customs[177] shews that the book-press there contemplated was a recess lined with wood and subdivided so as to keep the books separate. The books to be accommodated in a monastery, even of large size, could not at its origin have been numerous[178], and would easily have been contained in a single receptacle. This, I conceive, was that recess in the wall which is so frequently found between the Chapter-House and the door into the church at the end of the east pane of the cloister. In many monastic ruins this recess is still open, and, by a slight effort of imagination, can be restored to its pristine use. Elsewhere it is filled in, having been abandoned by the monks themselves in favour of a fresh contrivance. The recess I am speaking of was called the common press (_armarium commune_), or common cloister-press (_commune armarium claustri_); and it contained the books appointed for the general use of the community (_communes libri_). A press of this description (fig. 19) is still to be seen in excellent preservation at the Cistercian monastery of Fossa Nuova in Central Italy, near Terracina, which I visited in the spring of 1900. This house may be dated 1187-1208[179]. The press is in the west wall of the south transept (fig. 21), close to the door leading to the church. It measures 4 ft. 3 in. wide, by 3 ft. 6 in. high; and is raised 2 ft. 3 in. above the floor of the cloister. It is lined with slabs of stone; but the hinges are not strong enough to have carried doors of any material heavier than wood; and I conjecture that the shelf also was of the same material. Stone is plentiful in that part of Italy, but wood, especially in large pieces, would have to be brought from a distance. Hence its removal, as soon as the cupboard was not required for the purpose for which it was constructed. [Illustration: Fig. 19. Press in the cloister at the Cistercian Abbey of Fossa Nuova.] Two recesses, evidently intended for the same purpose, are to be seen in the east walk of the cloister of Worcester Cathedral, formerly a Benedictine monastery. They are between the Chapter-House and the passage leading to the treasury and other rooms. Each recess is square-headed, 6 ft. 9 in. high, 2 ft. 6 in. deep, and 11 ft. broad (fig. 20). In front of the recesses is a bench-table, 13 in. broad and 16 in. high. This book-press was in use so late as 1518, when a book bought by the Prior was "delyvered to y^e cloyster awmery[180]." [Illustration: Fig. 20. Groundplan and elevation of the book-recesses in the cloister of Worcester Cathedral.] As books multiplied ampler accommodation for them became necessary; and, as they were to be read in cloister, it was obvious that the new presses or cases must either be placed in the cloister or be easily accessible from it. The time had not yet come when the collection could be divided, and be placed partly in the cloister, partly in a separate and sometimes distant room. This want of book-room was supplied in two ways. In Benedictine and possibly in Cluniac houses the books were stored in detached wooden presses, which I shall describe presently; but the Cistercians adopted a different method. At the beginning of the twelfth century, when that Order was founded, the need of additional book-space had been fully realised; and, consequently, in their houses we meet with a special room set apart for books. But the conservative spirit which governed monastic usage, and discouraged any deviation from the lines of the primitive plan, made them keep the press in the wall close to the door of the church; and, in addition to this, they cut off a piece from the west end of the sacristy, which usually intervened between the south transept and the Chapter-House, and fitted it up for books. This was done at Fossa Nuova. The groundplan (fig. 21) shews the press which I have already figured, and the book-room between the transept and the Chapter-House, adjoining the sacristy. It is 14 ft. long by 10 ft. broad, with a recess in its north wall which perhaps once contained another press. [Illustration: Fig. 21. Groundplan of part of the Abbey of Fossa Nuova. To shew the book-room and book-press, and their relations to adjoining structures: partly from M. Enlart's work, partly from my own measurements.] There is a similar book-room at Kirkstall Abbey near Leeds, built about 1150. The plan (fig. 22, A) shews its relation to the adjoining structures. The _armarium commune_ (_ibid._ B) is a little to the north of the room, as at Fossa Nuova. A room in a similar position, and destined no doubt to the same use, is to be seen at Beaulieu, Hayles, Jervaulx, Netley, Tintern, Croxden, and Roche. [Illustration: Fig. 22, Groundplan of part of Kirkstall Abbey, Yorkshire. A, book-room: B, _armarium commune_.] The catalogue of the books at the Abbey of Meaux in Holderness[181], founded about the middle of the 12th century, has fortunately been preserved; and it tells us not only what books were kept in one of these rooms, but how they were arranged. After the contents of the presses in the church, which contained chiefly service-books, we come to the "common press in the cloister (_commune almarium claustri_)." On the shelf over the door (_in suprema theca[182] supra ostium_) were four psalters. The framer of the catalogue then passes to the opposite end of the room, and, beginning with the top shelf (_suprema theca opposita_), enumerates 37 volumes. Next, he deals with the rest of the books, which, he tells us, were in other shelves, marked with the letters of the alphabet (_in aliis thecis distinctis per alphabetum_). If I understand the catalogue correctly, there were eleven of these divisions, each containing an average of about 25 volumes. The total number of volumes in the collection was 316. Again, the catalogue of the House of White Canons at Titchfield in Hampshire, dated 1400, shews that the books were kept in a small room, on sets of shelves called _columpnæ_, set against the walls. The catalogue begins as follows: There are in the Library at Tychefeld four cases to set books on; two of which, namely the first and the second, are on the eastern side. The third is on the south side; and the fourth is on the north side. Each of these has eight shelves [etc.][183]. Nor was this book-closet confined to Cistercian Houses. In the Cluniac Priory at Much Wenlock in Shropshire there is a long narrow room on the west side of the south transept, opening to the cloister by three arches, which could hardly have been put to any other purpose. It is obvious that no study could have gone forward in such places; they must have been intended for security only. As time went on, and further room for books became necessary, it was provided, at least in some Cistercian Houses, by cutting off two rectangular spaces from the west end of the Chapter-House. There is a good example of this treatment to be seen at Furness Abbey, built 1150--1200. The following description is borrowed from Mr W. H. St John Hope's architectural history of the buildings. From the transept southwards the whole of the existing work is of later date, and distinctly advanced character. The ground storey is pierced with five large and elaborate round-headed doorways with good moldings and labels, with a delicate dog-tooth ornament. Three of these next the transept form a group.... The central arch opened, through a vestibule, into the Chapter House. The others open into large square recesses or chambers, with ashlar walls, and rubble barrel-vaults springing from chamfered imposts on each side. In the northern chamber the vault is kept low and segmental, on account of the passage above it of the dorter stair to the church.... The southern chamber has a high pointed vault. Neither chamber has had doors, but the northern has holes in the inner jamb, suggestive of a grate of some kind, of uncertain date. The chambers just described probably contained the library, in wooden presses arranged round the walls[184]. To illustrate this description a portion of Mr Hope's plan of Furness Abbey (fig. 23) is appended. Each room was about 13 ft. square. [Illustration: Fig. 23. Groundplan of part of Furness Abbey.] [Illustration: Fig. 24. Arches in south wall of Church at Beaulieu Abbey, Hampshire, once possibly used as book-presses.] Rooms in a similar position are to be seen at Calder Abbey[185] in Cumberland, a daughter-house to Furness; and at Fountains Abbey there are clear indications that the western angles of the Chapter-House were partitioned off at some period subsequent to its construction, probably for a similar purpose. As the Chapter-House was entered from the cloister through three large round-headed arches, each of the rooms thus formed could be entered directly from the cloister, the central arch being reserved for the Chapter-House itself. The arrangement therefore became exactly similar to that at Furness. Mr Hope thinks that the series of arches in the church wall at Beaulieu in Hampshire, two of which are here shewn (fig. 24), may have been used for a like purpose[186]. There is a similar series of arches at Hayles, a daughter-house to Beaulieu; and in the south cloister of Chester Cathedral there are six recesses of early Norman design, which, if not sepulchral, may once have contained books. The use of the Chapter-House and its neighbourhood as the place in which books should be kept is one of the most curious features of the Cistercian life. The east walk of the cloister, into which the Chapter-House usually opened, must have been one of the most frequented parts of the House, and yet it seems to have been deliberately chosen not merely for keeping books, but for reading them. At Clairvaux, so late as 1709, the authors of the _Voyage Littéraire_ record the following arrangement: Le grand cloître ... est voûté et vitré. Les religieux y doivent garder un perpetuel silence. Dans le côté du chapitre il y a des livres enchaînez sur des pupitres de bois, dans lesquels les religieux peuvent venir faire des lectures lorsqu'ils veulent[187]. A similar arrangement obtained at Citeaux[188]. Having traced the development of the Cistercian book-closet, from a simple recess in the wall to a pair of more or less spacious rooms at the west end of the Chapter-House, I return to my starting-point, and proceed to discuss the arrangement adopted by the Benedictines. They must have experienced the inconvenience arising from want of space more acutely than the Cistercians, being more addicted to study and the production of books. They made no attempt, however, to provide space by structural changes or additions to their Houses, but were content with wooden presses in the cloister for their books, and small wooden studies, called carrells, for the readers and writers. The uniformity which governed monastic usage was so strict that the practice of almost any large monastery may be taken as a type of what was done elsewhere. Hence, when we find a full record of the way in which books were used in the great Benedictine House at Durham, we may rest assured that, _mutatis mutandis_, we have got a good general idea of the whole subject. I will therefore begin by quoting a passage from that valuable work _The Rites of Durham_, a description of the House drawn up after the Reformation by some one who had known it well in other days, premising only that it represents the final arrangements adopted by the Order, and takes no account of the steps that led to them. In the north syde of the Cloister, from the corner over against the Church dour to the corner over againste the Dorter dour, was all fynely glased from the hight to the sole within a litle of the grownd into the Cloister garth. And in every wyndowe iij Pewes or Carrells, where every one of the old Monks had his carrell, severall by himselfe, that, when they had dyned, they dyd resorte to that place of Cloister, and there studyed upon there books, every one in his carrell, all the after nonne, unto evensong tyme. This was there exercise every daie. All there pewes or carrells was all fynely wainscotted and verie close, all but the forepart, which had carved wourke that gave light in at ther carrell doures of wainscott. And in every carrell was a deske to lye there bookes on. And the carrells was no greater then from one stanchell of the wyndowe to another. And over against the carrells against the church wall did stande certaine great almeries [or cupbords] of waynscott all full of bookes, wherein did lye as well the old auncyent written Doctors of the Church as other prophane authors with dyverse other holie mens wourks, so that every one dyd studye what Doctor pleased them best, havinge the Librarie at all tymes to goe studie in besydes there carrells.[189] At Durham the monastic buildings stood to the south of the church, and the library-walk of the cloister was that walk, or alley, or pane, or syde (for all these words are used), which had the church to the north of it. The library was placed there partly for the sake of warmth, partly to secure greater privacy. At Canterbury and at Gloucester, where the church was to the south of the conventual buildings, the library-walk of the cloister was still the walk next to the church, the other walks, as Mr Hope has pointed out to me, being apparently kept clear for the Sunday procession. [Illustration: Fig. 25. The cloister, Westminster Abbey. From Mr Micklethwaite's plan of the buildings.] I propose to explain the system indicated in the above quotation by reference to a plan of the cloister at Westminster Abbey, drawn by my friend Mr J. T. Micklethwaite (fig. 25)[190], and by quotations from his notes upon it. At Durham every vestige of ancient arrangement has been so completely destroyed that it is better to go to another House, where less mischief has been done, and it happens fortunately that, so far as the position of the cloister with reference to the church is concerned, Westminster is the exact counterpart of Durham. I will consider first the last paragraph of my quotation from the _Rites of Durham_, that namely which deals with the presses for books, there called "almeries or cupbords." Mr Micklethwaite shews that the two bays at the north end of the west walk of the cloister, and the second bay from the west in the north walk (fig. 25, nos. 1, 2, 4), were appropriated to the novices, by the existence of several sets of nine holes, evidently cut by boys in their idle moods for the playing of some game. Similar holes have been found at Canterbury, Gloucester, and elsewhere. Next he points out that "the nosing of the wall-bench for six feet of the third bay from the west in the north walk, and in the whole of the fourth and fifth bays, and nearly all the sixth, has been cut away flush with the riser, as if some large pieces of furniture had been placed there (_ibid._ nos. 5, 5, 5, 5). These were evidently bookcases." Eastward of these indications of bookcases "the bases of the vaulting-shafts are cut in a way which seems to shew that there was a double screen there (_ibid._ nos. 6, 6), or perhaps there were bookcases arranged so as to form a screen, which is, I think, very likely. Beyond this screen to the right are appearances in the wall [next the cloister-garth] which seem to indicate a blocked-up locker, but they are rather doubtful. And on the left is a large double locker blocked (_ibid._ 7), and the blocking appears to be ancient. This locker is of the date of the wall (Edw. I.), and may have been an additional book-closet provided, because that on the other side of the church-door [to be described presently] had become too small, and [was] blocked up when the larger bookcases were made opposite the carrells[191]." Lastly, at the risk of some repetition, I will quote a passage from a letter which Mr Micklethwaite was so good as to write to me on this subject, as it brings out some additional points, and states the whole question with great clearness. After describing the position of the bookcases, he proceeds: There was thus a space, the width of the bench, between the back of the case and the cloister-wall, which would help to keep things dry. Whether the floor was boarded we cannot now tell, but there is evidence that this part of the cloister was cut off from the rest by screens of some sort at both ends, which would make it a long gallery lighted on one side, and with bookcases ranged along the other, not unlike Wren's at Lincoln. The windows must have been glazed; indeed remains of the glazing existed to the end of the 17th century; and there were within my memory marks of fittings along the windows-side which I did not then understand, but which, if they still existed, would I have no doubt tell us something of the _carrells_. A "thorough restoration" has taken away every trace of them. The "bookcase on the other side of the church door" mentioned above was in the northernmost bay of the east cloister. Mr Micklethwaite says of it: "Entering the cloister from the church by the east cloister door (_ibid._ no. 8), we find on our left hand a very broad bench against the wall, extending as far as the entrance to the Chapter-House (_ibid._ 10). In the most northern bay the wall-arcade, instead of being brought down by shafts as in the others, is stopped off at the springing by original brackets, as if to allow of some large piece of furniture being placed against the wall. Here, I believe, stood in the thirteenth century the _armarium commune_, or common bookcase (_ibid._ 9). At Durham there is a Norman arched recess in the same place, not mentioned by the writer of the _Rites_, because before his time its use had ceased, books having become more numerous, and being provided for elsewhere[192]." These notes enable us to imagine what this library was like. It was about 80 feet long by 15 feet broad, extending along four bays of the cloister. It was cut off by a screen at one end, and possibly at the other also; the book-presses stood against the wall, opposite to the windows, which were probably glazed, as we know those at Durham were; and there might have been a wooden floor. Further, the older monks sat in "carrells," as we learn from the custumary of Abbat Ware, who was in office 1258-83. The writer is speaking of the novices, and says that after they have attained a certain degree of proficiency they may sit in cloister, and "be allowed to glance at books taken out of the presses (_armaria_) belonging to the older monks. But they must not be permitted as yet to write or to have carrells[193]." Whatever may have been the discomfort of this library according to our ideas, there is good reason for believing that it was in use till 1591, when Dean Williams fitted up part of the Dorter as a library for the use of the Dean and Canons[194]. The practice of placing the book-press in the cloister obtained with equal force in France, for the Benedictines who wrote the _Voyage Littéraire_, and who would of course be well acquainted with what was usual in their own Order, remark with surprise when they visit the ancient abbey of Cruas on the Rhone, that the press is in the church. On voit encore dans l'eglise l'armoire où on enfermoit les livres, contre la coûtume des autres monastères de l'ordre, qui avoient cette armoire dans le cloître. On y lit ces vers d'un caractère qui peut avoir cinq cent ans: Pastor jejunat qui libros non coadunat Nec panem præbet subjectis quem dare debet[195]. A shepherd starves whose store of books is low: Nor can he on his flock their due bestow. No example of an English book-press has survived, so far as I know, but it would be rash to say that none exists; nor have I been so fortunate as to find one in France, though I have taken a great deal of pains to obtain information on the subject. In default of a press made specially to hold books, I must content myself with representations of two well-known pieces of furniture--both preserved in French churches. The first (fig. 26) stands in the upper sacristy of the Cathedral of Bayeux, over the south transept. The name usually given to it, _le Chartrier de Bayeux_, implies that it was made to hold documents. M. Viollet-le-Duc does not accept this view, but considers that it contained reliquaries, with which he probably would not object to associate other articles of church-plate. [Illustration: Fig. 26. Part of the ancient press in Bayeux Cathedral, called _Le Chartrier de Bayeux_. From a photograph.] [Illustration: Fig. 27. Press in the church at Obazine, Central France. From a photograph.] It is of oak, very coarse, rough, and massive. It is 9 ft. 3 inches high, from floor to top, 17 ft. 2 inches long--(it was originally 3 ft. longer)--and 3 ft. deep. There are two rows of cupboards each 3 ft. 8 inches high, with massive doors that still preserve their original ironwork. The whole piece of furniture has once been painted, indications of which still exist, but the subjects can no longer be made out. M. Viollet-le-Duc[196], who possibly saw the paintings when they were in a better state of preservation than when I examined them in 1896, decides that they once represented the translation of relics. My second example (fig. 27) is in the church of Obazine in Central France (Département de la Corrèze). It is far simpler and ruder than the press in Bayeux Cathedral; and the style of ornamentation employed indicates a somewhat earlier date; though M, Viollet-le-Duc places the construction of both in the first years of the 13th century. It is 6 ft. 7 in. high, by 7 ft. broad, and 2 ft. 7 in. deep. The material is oak, which still bears a few traces of having once been painted[197]. These pieces of furniture were certainly not made specially for books; but, as they belong to a period when the monastic system was in full, vigorous, life, it is at least probable that they resemble those used by monks to contain their books. I have shewn in the previous chapter that in ancient Rome the press used for books was essentially the same as that used for very different purposes; and I submit that it is unnecessary to suppose that monastic carpenters would invent a special piece of furniture to hold books. They would take the _armarium_ that was in daily use, and adapt it to their own purposes. Before I leave this part of my subject I must mention that there is a third press in the Church of Saint Germain l'Auxerrois, Paris. It stands in a small room over the south end of the west porch, which may once have been a muniment room. It was probably made about a century later than those which I have figured. In arrangement it bears a general resemblance to the example from Bayeux. It consists of six cupboards arranged in two tiers, the lower of which is raised to the level of a bench which extends along the whole length of the piece of furniture, with its ends mortised into those of the cupboards. The seat of this bench lifts up, so as to form an additional receptacle for books or papers[198]. The curious wooden contrivances called carrells, which are mentioned in the above quotation from the _Rites of Durham_, have of course entirely disappeared. Nothing is said about their height; but in breadth each of them was equal to the distance from the middle of one mullion of a window to the middle of the next; it was made of wainscot, and had a door of open carved work by which it was entered from the cloister. This arrangement was doubtless part of the systematic supervision of brother by brother that was customary in a monastery. Even the aged, though engaged in study, were not to be left to their own devices. I have carefully measured the windows at Durham (fig. 28); and, though they have been a good deal altered, I suppose the mullions are in their original places. If this be so the carrells could not have been more than 2 ft. 9 in. wide, and the occupant would have found but little room to spare. There are eleven windows, so that thirty-three monks could have been accommodated, on the supposition that all were fitted with carrells. [Illustration: Fig. 28. Groundplan of one of the windows in the cloister of Durham Cathedral.] In the south cloister at Gloucester there is a splendid series of twenty stone carrells (fig. 29), built between 1370 and 1412. Each carrell is 4 ft. wide, 19 in. deep, and 6 ft. 9 in. high, lighted by a small window of two lights; but as figures do not give a very vivid idea of size, and as I could not find any one else to do what I wanted, I borrowed a chair from the church and a folio from the library, and sat down to read, as one of the monks might have done six centuries ago (fig. 30). There is no trace of any woodwork appertaining to these carrells; or of any book-press having ever stood near them. The easternmost carrell, however, differs a good deal from the others, and it may have been used as a book-closet. There is a bench-table along the wall of the church opposite to the carrells; but it does not appear to have been cut away to make room for book-presses, as at Westminster. The south alley appears to have been shut off at the east end, and also at the west end, by a screen[199]. [Illustration: Fig. 29. Range of carrells in the south cloister at Gloucester Cathedral. (From Mr Murray's _Handbook to the Western Cathedrals_.)] This drawing will help us to understand the arrangement of the wooden carrells used at Durham and elsewhere. Each carrell must have closely resembled a modern sentry-box, with this difference, that one side was formed by a light of the window looking into the cloister-garth, opposite to which was the door of entrance. This, I imagine, would be of no great height; and moreover was made of open work, partly that the work of the occupant might be supervised, partly to let as much light as possible pass through into the cloister-library. The seat would be on one side of the carrell and the desk on the other, the latter being so arranged that the light would enter on the reader's left hand. [Illustration: Fig. 30. A single carrell, Gloucester Cathedral.] Carrells seem to have been usual in monasteries from very early times, not to have been introduced at a comparatively late date in order to ensure greater comfort. The earliest passage referring to them is that which I have already quoted[200], shewing that they were in use at Westminster between 1258 and 1283; at Bury S. Edmunds the destruction of the carrells is mentioned among other outrages in a riot in 1327[201]; they occur at Evesham between 1367 and 1379[202]; at Abingdon in 1383-84[203]; and at Christ Church, Canterbury, it is recorded among the good deeds of Prior Sellyng (1472-94), that in the south alley of the cloister "novos Textus quos Carolos ex novo vocamus perdecentes fecit"; words which Professor Willis renders "constructed there very convenient framed contrivances which are now-a-days called carols[204]." Their use--at any rate in some Houses--is evident from an injunction among the Customs of S. Augustine's, Canterbury, to the effect that the cellarer and others who rarely sit in cloister might not have carrells, nor in fact any brother unless he be able to help the community by copying or illuminating, or at least by adding musical notation[205]. They were in fact devices to provide a certain amount of privacy for literary work in Houses where there was no _Scriptorium_ or writing-room. At Durham, according to the author of _Rites_, they were used exclusively for reading. The above-mentioned Customs of S. Augustine's, written between 1310 and 1344, give a valuable contemporary picture of the organization of one of the more important cloister-libraries. The care of the presses is to be entrusted to the Precentor and his subordinate, called the Succentor. The former is to have a seat in front of the press--which doubtless stood against the wall--and his carrell is to stand at no great distance, on the stone between the piers of the arches next the cloister-garth. The Succentor is to have his seat and his carrell on the bench near the press--by which the bench which commonly ran along the cloister-wall is obviously meant. These arrangements are made "in order that these two officers, or at least one of them, may always be at hand to satisfy brethren who make any demand upon their time[206]." In other words, they were the librarian and sub-librarian, who were to be always ready to answer questions. It is clear that brethren were not allowed to handle the books as they pleased. The cloister at Durham, or at least that part of it which was used as a library, was glazed; but whether with white glass or stained glass we are not informed. So obvious a device for increasing both the comfort and the beauty of a much-frequented part of the monastic buildings was doubtless adopted in many other Houses. At Bury S. Edmunds part at least of the cloister had "painted windows representing the sun, moon and stars and the occupations of the months"; at Christ Church, Canterbury, Prior Sellyng (1472-94) "had the south walk of the cloister glazed for the use of the studious brethren"; at Peterborough the windows of the cloister were all compleat and fair, adorned with glass of excellent painting: In the South Cloyster was the History of the Old Testament: In the East Cloyster of the New: In the North Cloyster the Figures of the successive Kings from King _Peada_: In the West Cloyster was the History from the first foundation of the Monastery of King _Peada_, to the restoring of it by King _Edgar_. Every window had at the bottom the explanation of the History thus in Verse[207]. At Westminster, as recorded above, traces of the insertion of glass have been observed. In later times, when regular libraries had been built for the monasteries, a special series of portraits occasionally appeared in glass, on a system similar to that worked out in other materials in Roman and post-Roman libraries; and sometimes, in other libraries, subjects are to be met with instead of portraits, to indicate the nature of the works standing near them. But I cannot say whether cloister-glass was ever treated in this way. FOOTNOTES: [115] _Epist._ XLIX. § 3. Ad Pammachium. Revolve omnium quos supra memoravi commentarios, et ecclesiarum bibliothecis fruere et magis concito gradu ad optata coeptaque pervenies. [116] I have to acknowledge my indebtedness to the article "Libraries," in the _Dictionary of Christian Antiquities_, and to the references there given. [117] _Hist. Eccl._ VI. 20. [Greek: êkmazon de kata touto pleious logioi kai ekklêsiastikoi andres ôn kai epistolas as pros allêlous diecharatton eti nun sôzomenas enrein euporon ai kai eis êmas ephylachthêsan en tê kata tên Ailian bibliothêkê pros tou tênikade tên autothi diepontos paroikian Alexandrou episkeuastheioê, aph' hês kai autoi tas ulas tês meta cheiras upotheseôs epi tauto sunagagein dedunêmetha]. [118] _Epist._ XXXIV., _Ad Marcellum._ De aliquot locis Psalmi cxxvi. Migne, Vol. XXII. 448. [119] _Ibid._ _De Viris Illustribus_, Chap. 3. Migne, Vol. XXIII. 613. Porro ipsum Hebraicum habetur usque hodie in Cæsariensi bibliotheca quam Pamphilus martyr studiose confecit. [120] _Comment. in Titum_, Chap. 3, v. 9. Unde et nobis curæ fuit omnes Veteris Legis libros quos vir doctus Adamantius in Hexapla digesserat de Cæsariensi bibliotheca descriptos ex ipsis authenticis emendare. [121] Optatus: _De schismate Donatistarum._ Fol. Paris, 1702. App. p. 167. [122] _Augustini Opera_, Paris, 1838, XI. p. 102. [123] _Bullettino di Archeologia Christiana_, Serie terza, 1876, p. 48. [124] _Epist._ XXXII. § 10 (ed. Migne, Vol. LXI. p. 335). Basilica igitur illa ... reliquiis apostolorum et martyrum intra apsidem trichoram sub altaria sacratis. [125] _Ibid._ § 13. Cum duabus dextra lævaque conchulis intra spatiosum sui ambitum apsis sinuata laxetur, una earum immolanti hostias jubilationis antistiti parat; altera post sacerdotem capaci sinu receptat orantes ... § 16. In secretariis vero duobus quæ supra dixi circa apsidem esse hi versus indicant officia singulorum. [126] Book I. Chap. 2. _De Acacia._ [Greek: pherei sperma en thulakois sunezeugmenois trichôrois ê tetrachôrois]. Comp. also Book IV. Chap. 167. The use of the apse is discussed by Lenoir, _Architecture Monastique_, 4to. Paris, 1852, Vol. I. p. 111. [127] Holsten, _Codex Regularum_, fol. 1759, 1. Regula S. Pachomii, No. c. p. 31. Nemo vadens ad collectam aut ad vescendum dimittat codicem non ligatum. Codices qui in fenestra id est intrinsecus parietis reponuntur ad vesperum erunt sub manu secundi qui numerabit eos et ex more concludet. The word fenestra is illustrated by a previous section of the Rule, No. LXXXII. p. 30. Nullus habebit separatim mordacem pavulam ad evellendas spinas si forte calcaverit absque Præposito domus et secundo: pendeatque in fenestra in qua codices collocantur. Ducange says that the word is used for the small cupboard in which the Sacrament was reserved. Here it is evidently a recess in the wall closed by a door--like one of the later armaria. On Pachomius and his foundation see _The Lausiac History of Palladius_, by Dom Cuthbert Butler, Camb. 1898, and esp. p. 234. [128] _Benedicti Regula Monachorum_, ed. E. Woelfflin, Leipzig, Teubner, 1895. [129] _De secunda feria quadragesimæ._ In capitulo nequaquam alia Regulæ sententia legitur quam quæ est de quadragesimâ. Recitatur quoque _Brevis_ librorum qui anno præterito sunt ad legendum fratribus erogati. Cum quilibet frater nominatur, surgit, et librum sibi datum reddit: et si eum forte non perlegerit, pro indiligentiâ veniam petit. Est autem unus tapes ibi constratus super quem illi libri ponuntur, de quibus iterum quanti dantur, dantur cum _Brevi_; et ad hoc est una tabula aliquantulum major facta. _Antiquiores Consuetudines Cluniacensis Monasterii._ Lib. I. Cap. LII. D'Achery, _Spicilegium_, ed. 1723, I. 667. [130] _Ibid._ Lib. III. Cap. X. _Ibid._ 690. _De Præcentore et Armario._ Præcentor et Armarius Armarii nomen obtinuit eo quod in ejus manu solet esse Bibliotheca quæ et in alio nomine Armarium appellatur. [131] Reyner. _Apostolatus Benedictinorum in Anglia_, fol. 1626. App. Part III. p. 211. As Lanfranc styles himself in the prologue Bishop of Rouen, these decrees must have been issued between August 1067 and August 1070, when he was made Archbishop of Canterbury. [132] Reyner, _Apostolatus Benedictinorum in Anglia_, fol. 1626. App. Part III. p. 216. [133] I am aware that the Customs printed by D'Achery are dated 1110; but it need not be assumed that they were written in that year. Similar directions are to be found among the Veteres Consuetudines of the Benedictine Abbey of S. Benoit sur Loire, or Fleury, founded A.D. 625. _Floriacensis vetus Bibliotheca_, 8vo. Lyons, 1605, p. 394. [134] Cantor almaria puerorum juvenum et alia in quibus libri conventus reponentur innovabit fracta præparabit [reparabit?] pannos librorum bibliothecæ reperiet fracturas librorum reficiet. _Chronicon monasterii de Abingdon_ (De obedientariis Abbendoniæ). Rolls Series, II. 371. [135] Cantor non potest libros vendere dare vel impignorare. Cantor non potest libros accommodare nisi pignore, quod tanti vel majoris fuerit, reposito. Tutius est pignori incumbere quam in personam agere. Hoc autem licet facere tantum vicinis ecclesiis vel excellentibus personis. _Ibid._ pp. 373, 374. [136] _Mon. Angl._ II. 39. The last sentence runs as follows in the original: Nullus librum capiat nisi scribatur in rotulo ejus; nee alicui liber aliquis mutuo tradatur absque competenti et sufficienti memoriali, et hoc ponatur in rotulo ipsius. I owe this quotation and the last to Father Gasquet's _Some Notes on Medieval Monastic Libraries_, 1891, p. 10. [137] Adhuc etiam libros ad legendum de armario accipit duos quibus omnem diligentiam curamque prebere monetur ne fumo ne puluere vel alia qualibet sorde maculentur; Libros quippe tanquam sempiternum animarum nostrarum cibum cautissime custodiri et studiosissime volumus fieri vt qui ore non possumus dei verbum manibus predicemus. Guigonis, Prioris Carthusiæ, _Statuta_. Fol. Basle, 1510. _Statuta Antiqua_, Part 2, Cap. XVI. § 9. [138] Libros cum commodantur nullus contra commodantium retineat voluntatem. _Ibid._ Cap. XXXII. § 16. [139] _Les Monuments primitifs de la Règle Cistercienne_, par Ph. Guignard, 8vo. Dijon, 1878, p. 237. [140] _The Observances in use at the Augustinian Priory of S. Giles and S. Andrew at Barnwell_: ed. J. W. Clark. 8vo. Camb., 1897, p. 15. This passage also occurs in the Customs of the Augustinian House at Grönendaal near Brussels. MS. in the Royal Library, Brussels, fol. 53 v^o. _De Armario._ [141] As I know of no other passage in a medieval writer which describes an _armarium_, I transcribe the original text: Armarium, in quo libri reponuntur, intrinsecus ligno vestitum esse debet ne humor parietum libros humectet vel inficiat. In quo eciam diversi ordines seorsum et deorsum distincti esse debent, in quibus libri separatim collocari possint, et distingui abinvicem, ne nimia compressio ipsis libris noceat, vel querenti moram inuectat. [142] Statuta primaria Præmonstratensis Ordinis, Cap. VII. ap. Le Paige, _Bibliotheca Præm. Ord._ fol. Paris, 1633, p. 803. The words are: Ad Armarium pertinet libros custodire, et si sciverit emendare; Armarium librorum, cum necesse fuerit, claudere et aperire ... libros mutuo accipere cum necesse fuerit et nostros quærentibus commodare sed non sine licentia Abbatis vel Prioris absente Abbate et non sine memoriali competenti. [143] The delightful story of S. Francis and the brother who wished for a psalter of his own is told in the _Speculum Perfectionis_, ed. Sabatier, 8vo. Paris, 1898, p. 11. [144] These Constitutions have been printed by Father F. Ehrle in a paper called _Die ältesten Redactionen der Generalconstitutionen des Franziskanerordens_, in "Archiv für Literatur und Kirchengeschichte des Mittelalters," Band VI. pp. 1-138. The passages cited above will be found on p. 111. [145] _The Philobiblon of Richard de Bury._ ed. E. C. Thomas, 8vo. Lond. 1888, p. 203. [146] In the Cluniac Customs those volumes only which had been assigned to particular brethren are to be laid on the carpet. It is difficult to understand the reason for this formal assignment of a book to each brother who chose to ask for one. As brethren in those early times had no separate cubicles or cells, it could hardly imply more than a precaution against the difficulty of two brethren requiring the use of the same volume. Possibly the whole intention was disciplinary, to ensure study as prescribed by the Rule. [147] Delisle, _Bibl. de l'École des Chartes_, Ser. 3, Vol. I. p. 225. Interdicimus inter alia viris religiosis, ne emittant juramentum de non commodando libros suos indigentibus, cum commodare inter præcipua misericordiæ opera computetur. Sed, adhibita consideratione diligenti, alii in domo ad opus fratrum retineantur; alii secundum providentiam abbatis, cum indemnitate domus, indigentibus commodentur. Et a modo nullus liber sub anathemate teneatur, et omnia predicta anathemata absolvimus. Labbe, _Concilia_, XI. 69. [148] Delisle, _Cab. des Manuscrits_, II. 226. [149] M. Delisle (_ut supra_, II. 124) cites an inscription in one of the MSS. of the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris: "Liber iste de Corbeia: sed prestaverunt nobis usque Pascha." [150] Mabillon, _Thesaurus Anecdotorum_, Vol. 1. p. 151. [151] _Opera Thomæ a Campis_, fol. 1523. Fol. XLVII. 7. The passage occurs in his _Doctrinale Juvenum_, Cap. V. [152] _Medieval Monastic Libraries_: by F. A. Gasquet, p. 15. The passage translated above occurs in a Custumary of S. Augustine's, Canterbury, MSS. Cotton, Faustina, c. XII. fol. 196 b. [153] _Cat. Monte Cassino_, II. 299. [154] Theodmarus Cassinensis to Charlemagne, ap. Hæften, _Disquisitiones Monasticæ_, fol. 1644, p. 1088. [155] Delisle, _ut supra_, II. 227. [156] Delisle, _ut supra_, II. 227. Tu, quicunque studebis in hoc libro, prospice, et leviter atque dulciter tractes folia, ut cavere possis rupturam propter ipsorum tenuitatem; et imitare doctrinam Jesu Christi, qui cum modeste aperuisset librum Ysaie et attente legisset, tandem reverenter complicuit ac ministro reddidit. This injunction occurs, in substance, in the _Philobiblon_ of Richard de Bury, ed. Thomas, p. 241. [157] _Opera Thomæ a Campis_, fol. 1523. Fol. XLVII. [158] Amice qui legis, retro digitis teneas, ne subito litteras deleas, quia ille homo qui nescit scribere nullum se putat habere laborem; quia sicut navigantibus dulcis est portus, ita scriptori novissimus versus. Calamus tribus digitis continetur, totum corpus laborat. Deo gratias. Ego, in Dei nomine, Vuarembertus scripsi. Deo gratias. From a MS. in the Bibl. Nat. Paris (MS. Lat. 12296) from the Abbey of Corbie: "les caractères dénotent l'époque carlovingienne." Delisle, _ut supra_, II. 121. [159] On the curse invariably used at S. Victor's, see Delisle, _ut supra_, II. 227 _note_. [160] Hic est liber Sancti Maximini Miciacensis monasterii, quem Petrus abbas scribere jussit et proprio labore providit atque distinxit, et die cænæ domini super sacrum altare sancti Stephani Deo et sancto Maximino habendum obtulit, sub hujusmodi voto ut quisquis eum inde aliquo ingenio non reddituius abstulerit, cum Juda proditore, Anna et Caiapha atque Pilato damnationem accipiat. Amen. From a Benedictine House at Saint Mesmin, Loiret. Delisle, _ut supra_, III. 384. M. Delisle considers that the words "providit atque distinxit" mean "a été revue et ponctuée." [161] Quem si quis vel dolo seu quoquo modo isti loco substraxerit anime sue propter quod fecerit detrimentum patiatur, atque de libro viventium deleatur et cum iustis non scribatur. From the Missal of Robert of Jumièges, ed. H. Bradshaw Soc., 8vo. 1896, p. 316. [162] Hic est liber sancti Albani quem qui ei abstulerit aut titulum deleverit anathema sit. Amen. I owe this quotation to the kindness of my friend Dr James. [163] _Cat. des MSS. des Departements_, 4to. Vol. I. p. 128 (No. 255). [164] Quicunque hunc titulum aboleverit vel a prefata ecclesia Christi dono vel vendicione vel accommodacione vel mutacione vel furto vel quocunque alio modo hunc librum scienter alienaverit malediccionem Ihesu Christi et gloriosissime Virginis matris ejus et beati Thome martiris habeat ipse in vita presenti. Ita tamen quod si Christo placeat qui est patronus ecclesie Christi eius spiritus salvus in die judicii fiat. Given to me by Dr James, from a MS. in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge. [165] I have to thank my friend Dr Venn for this quotation. He tells me that it was first pointed out by Dr Swete in _The Caian._ II. p. 127. [166] See above, p. 71. [167] Delisle, _ut supra_, II. 124. [168] _Ibid._ p. 239. [169] _Ibid._ p. 365. Edwards, _Memoirs of Libraries_, I. 283. [170] _Supplement to Bentham's Ely_, by Wm Stevenson, 4to. 1817, p. 51. I have to thank my friend the Rev. J. H. Crosby, Minor Canon of Ely Cathedral, for a transcript of Bp Nigel's deed. [171] _Monumenta Moguntina_, ed. Jaffé, 8vo. Berlin, 1866, in _Bibl. Rer. Germ._ Vol. III. p. 301; quoted in Bede's works, ed. Plummer, p. xx. [172] See Church's _S. Anselm_, ed. 1885, p. 48. The words are: Nunc hyemali frigore rigens, aliis occupationibus vacabo, præsentemque libellum hic terminare fatigatus decerno. Redeunte vero placidi veris sereno, etc. _Hist. Eccl._ Pars II. lib. IV. [173] This couplet, written on the fly-leaf of a MS. in the library of the University of Cambridge (Hh. VI. II), was pointed out to me by my friend F. J. H. Jenkinson, M.A., Librarian. [174] Herimanni liber de restauratione S. Martini Tornacensis: ap. Pertz, _Mon. Germ._ XIV. 313. [175] See above, p. 37. [176] See _Dictionnaire du Mobilier_, par Henri Havard, S. V. _Armoire_, and the passages there quoted. [177] See above, p. 71. [178] The Cistercian Customs prescribe the possession of nine volumes at least, chiefly service-books, before a house can be founded. _Documents_, p. 253. [179] _Origines Françaises de l'Architecture Gothique en Italie_, par G. Enlart, 8vo. Paris, 1894. p. 9. This valuable work contains a full and accurate description, copiously illustrated, of Fossa Nuova and other abbeys in remote parts of Italy. [180] _The Monastery and Cathedral of Worcester_, by John Noake, Lond., 1866, p. 414. [181] _Chronica monasterii de Melsa._ Rolls Series, Vol. III. App. p. lxxxiii. [182] The word _theca_ signified in classical Latin a case or receptacle in which any object was kept. In medieval Latin it was specially used (_fide_ Ducange) for the chest in which the bodies or bones or relics of saints, were kept. In this catalogue it is obvious that it may mean either a shelf or a cupboard. [183] Sunt enim in libraria de Tychefeld quatuor columpnæ pro libris imponendis, unde in orientali fronte due sunt videlicet prima et secunda. In latere vero australi est tercia. Et in latere boreali est quarta. Et earum singule octo habent gradus [etc.]. [184] _Trans. Cumb. and West. Antiq. and Archæol. Soc._ Vol. XVI. p. 259. I take this opportunity of thanking my friend Mr Hope for allowing me to use his plan of Furness Abbey, and also for pointing out to me the evolution of the Cistercian book-rooms which I have done my best to describe in the text. [185] _Calder Abbey: its Ruins and its History._ By A. G. Loftie, M.A. [186] Mr Hope tells me that he has lately re-examined these recesses, and failed to discover traces of furniture or fittings of any kind within them. [187] _Voyage Littéraire_, Paris, 1717, Vol. I. p. 101. [188] _Cat. des Manuscrits des Bibliothèques Publiques de France._ Departements, Tom. V. Catalogue des Manuscrits de Citeaux, No. 635 (p. 405). Parvus liber incathenatus ad analogium cathedre ex opposito capituli. [189] _The Rites of Durham_, ed. Surtees Soc. 1844, p. 70. [190] _Notes on the Abbey Buildings of Westminster_, Arch. Journ. XXXIII. pp. 15-49. [191] _Notes on the Abbey Buildings of Westminster_, Arch. Journ. XXXIII. pp. 21, 22. [192] _Notes on the Abbey Buildings of Westminster_, Arch. Journ. XXXIII. p. 16. [193] MSS, Mus. Brit. MSS. Cotton, Otho. c. XI. fol. 84. [194] See a paper by myself in _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ IX. pp. 47-56. [195] _Voyage Littéraire_, ed. 1717. Part I. 297. [196] _Dictionnaire du Mobilier_, s. v. _Armoire_. [197] Viollet-le-Duc, _ut supra_, p. 4, where full details of the press at Obazine are given. The photograph from which my illustration has been made was specially taken for my use through the kind help of my friend Dr James, who had seen the press in 1899. [198] Viollet-le-Duc, _ut supra_, p. 14. I have myself examined this press. My friend Mr Hope informs me that there is a press of this character in the nether vestry at S. Peter Mancroft, Norwich, described by him in _Inventories of the parish church of S. Peter Mancroft, Norwich_, Norf. and Norw. Archæol. Soc, XIV. p. 29. [199] See Mr Hope's _Notes on the Benedictine Abbey of S. Peter at Gloucester_, in _Records of Gloucester Cathedral_, 1897, p. 23. [200] See above, p. 93. [201] _Memorials of S. Edmund's Abbey_, Rolls Series, II. 327. The writer is describing the mischief done by the rioters of 1327: Deinde claustrum ingressi, cistulas, id est caroles, et armariola fregerunt, et libros et omnia in eis inventa similiter asportaverunt. I owe this quotation to Dr James, _On the Abbey of S. Edmund at Bury_, Camb. Ant. Soc. Octav. Publ. No. XXVIII. p. 158. [202] _Liber Evesham_, Hen. Bradshaw Soc. 1893, p. 196. Abbat Ombresleye (1367-79) built "paginam illam claustri contiguam ecclesie ubi carolæ fratrum consistunt." [203] _Accounts of the Obedientiaries of Abingdon Abbey_, ed. Camden Society, 1892, p. 47. "Expense circa sedilia claustri" is the heading of an account for wood bought and for carpenter's work. The sum spent was £2. 15_s._ 3_d._ [204] _Arch. Hist. of the Conventual Buildings of the Monastery of Christ Church, Canterbury_. By R. Willis. 8vo, Lond. 1869, p. 45. [205] MSS. Mus. Brit. MSS. Cotton, Faustina, c. XII., fol. 149. De karulis in claustro habendis hanc consideracionem habere debent quibus committitur claustri tutela ut videlicet celerarius seu alii fratres qui raro in claustro resident suas karulas in claustro non habeant, set nec aliqui fratres nisi in scribendo vel illuminando aut tantum notando communitati aut et sibimet ipsis proficere sciant. [206] MSS. Mus. Brit. MSS. Cotton, Faustina, c. XII., fol. 145. ... precentorem et succentorem quibus committitur armariorum custodia. Cantor habebit cathedram suam ante armarium in claustro stantem et carulam suam iuxta desuper lapidem inter columpnas. Succentor vero super scannum iuxta armarium carulam et sedem suam habebit, ut hii duo vel saltem unus eorum possint semper esse parati ad respondendum fratribus seruicium petentibus. [207] _History of the Church of Peterburgh._ By Symon Gunton: fol. 1686, p. 103. The author gives the subjects and legends of nine windows. I owe this quotation to the kindness of Mr Hope. CHAPTER III. INCREASE OF MONASTIC COLLECTIONS. S. RIQUIER, BOBBIO, DURHAM, CANTERBURY. BOOKS KEPT IN OTHER PLACES THAN THE CLOISTER. EXPEDIENTS FOR HOUSING THEM AT DURHAM, CITEAUX, AND ELSEWHERE. SEPARATE LIBRARIES BUILT IN FIFTEENTH CENTURY AT DURHAM, S. ALBANS, CITEAUX, CLAIRVAUX, ETC. GRADUAL EXTENSION OF LIBRARY AT S. GERMAIN DES PRÈS. LIBRARIES ATTACHED TO CATHEDRALS. LINCOLN, SALISBURY, WELLS, NOYON, ROUEN, ETC. In the last chapter I attempted to describe the way in which the Monastic Orders provided for the safe keeping of their books, so long as their collections were not larger than could be accommodated in a press or presses in the cloister, or in the small rooms used by the Cistercians for the same purpose. I have now to carry the investigation a step farther, and to shew how books were treated when a separate library was built. It must not be supposed that an extensive collection of books was regarded as indispensable in all monastic establishments. In many Houses, partly from lack of funds, partly from an indisposition to study, the books were probably limited to those required for the services and for the daily life of the brethren. In other places, on the contrary, where the fashion of book-collecting had been set from very early days, by some abbat or prior more learned or more active than his fellows; and where brethren in consequence had learnt to take a pride in their books, whether they read them or not, a large collection was got together at a date when even a royal library could be contained in a single chest of very modest dimensions. For instance, when an inventory of the possessions of the Benedictine House of S. Riquier near Abbeville was made at the request of Louis le Débonnaire in 831 A.D., it was found that the library contained 250 volumes; and a note at the end of the catalogue informs us that if the different treatises had been entered separately, the number of entries would have exceeded five hundred, as many books were frequently bound in a single volume. The works in this library are roughly sorted under the headings Divinity, Grammar, History and Geography, Sermons, Service-books[208]. A similar collection existed at S. Gall at the same period[209]. In the next century we find nearly seven hundred manuscripts in a Benedictine monastery at Bobbio in north Italy[210]; and nearly six hundred in a House belonging to the same order at Lorsch in Germany[211]. At Durham, also a Benedictine House, a catalogue made early in the twelfth century contains three hundred and sixty-six titles[212]; but, as at S. Riquier, the number of works probably exceeded six or seven hundred. These instances, which I have purposely selected from different parts of Europe, and which could easily have been increased, are sufficient to indicate the rapidity with which books could be, and in fact were accumulated, when the taste for such collections had once been set. Year by year, slowly yet surely, by purchase, by gift, by bequest, by the zeal of the staff of writers whom the precentor drilled and kept at work, the number grew, till in certain Houses it reached dimensions which must have embarrassed those responsible for its bestowal. At Christ Church, Canterbury, for instance, the catalogue made by Henry de Estria, Prior 1285-1331, enumerates about 1850 manuscripts[213]. It must gradually have become impossible to accommodate such collections as these according to the old method, even supposing it was desirable to do so. There were doubtless many duplicates, and manuscripts of value requiring special care. Consequently we find that places other than the cloister were used to keep books in. At Durham, for instance, the catalogues made at the end of the fourteenth century enumerate (1) "the books in the common press at Durham in sundry places in the cloister" (386 volumes)[214]; (2) "the books in the common press at Durham in the Spendment" (408 volumes)[215]; (3) "the inner library at Durham called Spendment" (87 volumes)[216]; (4) "the books for reading in the frater which lie in the press near the entrance to the farmery" (17 volumes)[217]; (5) "the books in the common press of the novices at Durham in the cloister" (23 volumes)[218]. Of the above catalogues the first obviously deals with the contents of the great "almeries of wainscot" which stood in the cloister; the second and third with the books for which no room could be found there, and which in consequence had been transferred to a room on the west side of the cloister, where wages were paid and accounts settled. In the _Rites of Durham_ it is termed the treasure-house or chancery. It was divided into two by a grate of iron, behind which sat the officer who made the payments. The books seem to have been kept partly in the outer half of the room, partly within this grate. At Citeaux, the parent-house of the Cistercian order, a large and wealthy monastery in Burgundy, the books were still more scattered, as appears from the catalogue[219] drawn up by John de Cirey, abbat at the end of the fifteenth century, now preserved, with 312 of the manuscripts enumerated in it, in the public library of Dijon. This catalogue, written on vellum, in double columns, with initial letters in red and blue alternately, records the titles of 1200 MSS and printed books; but the number of the latter is not great. It is headed: Inventory of the books at Citeaux, in the diocese of Chalons, made by us, brother John, abbat of the said House, in the year of our Lord 1480, after we had caused the said books to be set to rights, bound, and covered, at a vast expense, by the labour of two and often three binders, employed continuously during two years[220]. This heading is succeeded by the following statement: And first of the books now standing (_existencium_) in the library of the dorter, which we have arranged as it is, because the room had been for a long time useless, and formerly served as a tailory and vestry, ... but for two years or nearly so nothing or very little had been put there[221]. A bird's-eye view of Citeaux, dated 1674, preserved in the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris, shews a small building between the Frater and the Dorter, which M. Viollet-le-Duc, who has reproduced[222] part of it, letters "staircase to the dorter." The room in question was probably at the top of this staircase, and the arrangements which I am about to discuss shew beyond all question that the Dorter was at one end of it and the Frater at the other. There were six bookcases, called benches (_banche_), evidently corresponding to the _sedilia_ or "seats" mentioned in many English medieval catalogues. The writer takes the bookcases in order, beginning as follows: De prima banca inferius versus refectorium (13 vols.). In 2^a linea prime banche superius (17 vols.). In 2^a banca inferius de latere dormitorii (18 vols.). " " superius " " (14 vols.). In 2^a banca inferius de latere refectorii (15 vols.). " " superius " " (18 vols.). The third and fifth _banche_, containing respectively 75 volumes and 68 volumes, are described in identical language; but the descriptions of the 4th and 6th differ sufficiently to make quotation necessary: In quarta banca de latere dormitorii (24 vols.). " " " refectorii (16 vols.). In sexta banca de latere dormitorii (25 vols.). Libri sequentes sunt in dicta sexta banca de latere dormitorii inferius sub analogio (38 vols.). It seems to me that the first _banca_ was set against the Dorter wall, so that it faced the Frater; and that it consisted of two shelves only, the second of which is spoken of as a line (_linea_)[223]. The second, third, and fifth _banche_ were detached pieces of furniture, with two shelves on each side. I cannot explain why the fourth is described in such different language. It is just possible that only one shelf on each side may have been occupied by books when the catalogue was compiled. I conjecture that the sixth stood against the Frater wall, thus facing the Dorter, and that it consisted of a shelf, with a desk below it, and a second shelf of books below that again. Besides these cases there were other receptacles for books called cupboards (_armaria_) and also some chests. These are noted in the following terms: Secuntur libri existentes in armariis librarie. In primo armario de latere versus refectorium (36 vols.). In secundo armario (53 vols.). In tertio armario (24 vols.). Sequuntur libri existentes in cofro seu archa juxta gradus ascensus ad vestiarium in libraria (46 vols.). In quadam cista juxta analogium de latere refectorii (9 vols.). The total of the MSS. stored in this room amounts to 509. In addition to these the catalogue next enumerates "Books of the choir, church, and cloister (53 vols.); Books taken out of the library for the daily use of the convent (29 vols.); Books chained on desks (_super analogiis_) before the Chapter-House (5 vols.); on the second desk (5 vols.); on the third desk (4 vols.); on the fifth desk (4 vols.); Books taken out of the library partly to be placed in the cloister, partly to be divided among the brethren (27 vols.); Books on the small desks in the cloister (5 vols.); Books to be read publicly in convent or to be divided among the brethren for private reading (99 vols.)." These different collections of MSS., added together, make a total of 740 volumes, which seem to have been scattered over the House, wherever a spare corner could be found for them. The inconvenience of such an arrangement, or want of arrangement, is obvious; and it must have caused much friction in the House. We can imagine the officer in charge of the finances resenting the intrusion of his brother of the library with an asperity not wholly in accordance with fraternal charity. And yet, so strong is the tendency of human nature to put up with whatever exists, rather than be at the trouble of changing it, no effectual steps in the way of remedy were taken until the fifteenth century. In that century, however, we find that in most of the large monasteries a special room was constructed to hold books. Reading went forward, as heretofore, in the cloister, and I conceive that the books stored in the new library were mainly intended for loan or for reference. As at Durham, the monks could go there when they chose. These conventual libraries were usually built over some existing building, or over the cloister. Sometimes, especially in France, the library appears as an additional storey added to any building with walls strong enough to bear it; sometimes again as a detached building. I will cite a few examples of libraries in these different positions. At Christ Church, Canterbury, a library, about 60 ft. long by 22 ft. broad, was built by Archbishop Chichele between 1414 and 1443, over the Prior's Chapel[224], and William Sellyng (Prior 1472-1494) "adorned [it] with beautiful wainscot, and also furnished it with certain volumes chiefly for the use of those addicted to study, whom he zealously and generously encouraged and patronised[225]." At Durham Prior Wessyngton, about 1446, either built or thoroughly repaired and refitted a room over the old sacristy, between the Chapter-House and the south Transept, or, as the _Rites_ say, "betwixt the Chapter House and the Te Deum wyndowe, being well replenished with ould written Docters and other histories and ecclesiasticall writers[226]." Wessyngton's work must have been extensive and thorough, for it cost, including the repairs of the books, £90. 16_s._ 0_d._[227]--at least £1100 or £1200 at the present value of money. The position of this library will be understood from the illustration (fig. 31). The room is 44 ft. 10 in. long, by 18 ft. wide, with a window at each end, 13 ft. wide, of five lights, and a very rough roof of oak, resting on plain stone corbels. [Illustration: Fig. 31. Library at Durham, built by Prior Wessyngton about 1446.] At Gloucester the library is in a similar position, but the date of its construction is uncertain. It has been described as follows by Mr Hope: The library is an interesting room of fourteenth century date, retaining much of its original open roof. The north side has eleven windows, each of two square-headed lights and perfectly plain.... [There are no windows on the south side.] The large end windows are late perpendicular, each of seven lights with a transom. There are other alterations, such as the beautiful wooden corbels from which the roof springs, which are probably contemporary with the work of the cloister when the western stair to the library was built, and the room altered. At Winchester a precisely similar position was selected between the Chapter-House and the south transept, above a passage leading from the cloister to the ground at the south-east end of the church. At the Benedictine House of S. Albans the library was begun in 1452 by John Whethamstede, Prior, and completed in the following year at the cost of £150[228]--a sum which represents about £2000 at the present day--but the position has not been recorded. At Worcester, also Benedictine, it seems probable that the library occupied from very early times the long, narrow room over the south aisle of the nave to which it was restored in 1866. This room, which extends from the transept to the west end of the church, is 130 ft. 7 in. long, 19 ft. 6 in. wide, and 8 ft. 6 in. high on the south side. It is lighted by twelve windows, eleven of which are of two lights each, and that nearest to the transept of three lights. The room is approached by a circular stone staircase at the south-west angle of the cathedral, access to which is from the outside only[229]. At Bury S. Edmund's abbat William Curteys (1429-45) built a library, on an unknown site: but his work is worth commemorating, as another instance of the great fifteenth century movement in monasteries for providing special rooms to contain books. At S. Victor, Paris, an Augustinian House, the library was built between 1501 and 1508, I believe over the sacristy; at Grönendaal, near Brussels, also Augustinian, it was built over the whole length of the north cloister (a distance of 175 feet), so that its windows faced the south. [Illustration: Fig. 32. Library of the Grey Friars House, London, commonly called Christ's Hospital. From Trollope's History.] The Franciscan House in London, commonly called Christ's Hospital, had a noble library, founded 21 October, 1421, by Sir Richard Whittington, mercer and Lord Mayor of London. By Christmas Day in the following year the building was roofed in; and before three years were over it was floored, plastered, glazed, furnished with desks and wainscot, and stocked with books. The cost was £556. 16_s._ 8_d._; of which £400 was paid by Whittington, and the rest by Thomas Wynchelsey, one of the brethren, and his friends[230]. It extended over the whole of one alley of the cloister (fig. 32). Stow tells us that it was 129 ft. long, by 31 ft. broad[231]; and, according to the letters patent of Henry VIII., dated 13 January, 1547, by which the site was conveyed to the City of London, it contained "28 Desks and 28 Double Settles of Wainscot[232]." I have recounted the expedients to which the monks of Citeaux were reduced when their books had become too numerous for the cloister. I will now describe their permanent library. This is shewn in the bird's-eye view dated 1674 to which I have already referred, and also in a second similar view, dated 1718, preserved in the archives of the town of Dijon[233], where I had the good fortune to discover it in 1894. It is accompanied by a plan of the whole monastery, and also by a special plan[234] of the library (fig. 35). The buildings had by this time been a good deal altered, and partly rebuilt in the classical style of the late renaissance; but in these changes the library had been respected. I reproduce (fig. 33) the portion of the view containing it and the adjoining structures, together with the corresponding ground-plan (fig. 34). The authors of the _Voyage Littéraire_, Fathers Martène and Durand, who visited Citeaux in 1710, thus describe this library: Citeaux sent sa grande maison et son chef d'ordre. Tout y est grand, beau et magnifique, mais d'une magnificence qui ne blesse point la simplicité religieuse.... [Illustration: Fig. 33. Bird's-eye view of part of the Monastery of Citeaux. From a drawing dated 1718. A, library; B, farmery.] Les trois cloîtres sont proportionnez au reste des bâtimens. Dans l'un de ces cloîtres on voit de petites cellules comme à Clervaux, qu'on appelle les écritoires, parce que les anciens moines y écrivoient des livres. La bibliothèque est au dessus; le vaisseau est grand, voûté, et bien percé. Il y a bon fonds de livres imprimez sur toutes sortes de matières, et sept ou huit cent manuscrits, dont la plupart sont des ouvrages des pères de l'église[235]. The ground-plan (fig. 34) shews the writing-rooms or _scriptoria_, apparently six in number, eastward of the church; and the bird's-eye view (fig. 33) the library built over them. Unfortunately we know nothing of the date of its construction. It occupied the greater part of the north side of a cloister called "petit cloître" or Farmery Cloister, from the large building on the east side originally built as a Farmery (fig. 33, B). It was approached by a newel-stair at its south-west corner (fig. 35). This stair gave access to a vestibule, in which, on the west, was a door leading into a room called small library (_petite bibliothèque_), apparently built over one of the chapels at the east end of the church (fig. 34). The destination of this room is not known. The library proper was about 83 feet long by 25 feet broad[236], vaulted, and lighted by six windows in the north and south walls. There was probably an east window also, but as explained above, it was intended, when this plan was drawn, to build a new gallery for books at this end of the older structure. [Illustration: Fig. 34, Ground-plan of part of the Monastery of Citeaux. From a plan dated 1718.] [Illustration: Fig. 35, Ground-plan of the Library at Citeaux.] I proceed next to the library at Clairvaux, a House which may be called the eldest daughter of Citeaux, having been founded by S. Bernard in 1115. This library was built in a position precisely similar to that at Citeaux, namely, eastward of the church, on the north side of the second cloister, over the _Scriptoria_. Begun in 1495, it was completed in 1503; and was evidently regarded as a work of singular beauty, over which the House ought to rejoice, for the building of it is commemorated in the following stanzas written on the first leaf of a catalogue made between 1496 and 1509, and now preserved in the library at Troyes[237]: La construction de cette librairie. Jadis se fist cette construction Par bons ouvriers subtilz et plains de sens L'an qu'on disoit de l'incarnation Nonante cinq avec mil quatre cens. Et tant y fut besongnié de courage En pierre, en bois, et autre fourniture Qu'après peu d'ans achevé fut louvrage Murs et piliers et voulte et couverture. Puis en après l'an mil v^c et trois Y furent mis les livres des docteurs: Le doux Jésus qui pendit en la croix Doint paradis aux dévotz fondateurs. Amen. We fortunately possess a minute description of Clairvaux, written, soon after the completion of the new library, by the secretary to the Queen of Sicily, who came there 13 July, 1517, and was taken, apparently, through every part of the monastery[238]. The account of the library is as follows: Et de ce même costé [dudit cloistre] sont xiiii estudes où les religieulx escripvent et estudient, lesquelles sont très belles, et au dessus d'icelles estudes est la neufve librairerie, à laquelle l'on va par une vis large et haulte estant audict cloistre, laquelle librairie contient de longeur lxiii passées, et de largeur xvii passées. En icelle y a quarante huic banctz, et en chacun banc quatre poulpitres fournys de livres de touttes sciences, et principallement en théologie, dont la pluspart desdicts livres sont en parchemin et escript à la main, richement historiez et enluminez. L'édiffice de ladicte librairie est magnificque et massonnée, et bien esclairé de deux costez de belles grandes fenestres, bien vitrés, ayant regard sur ledict cloistre et cimitière des Abbez. La couverture est de plomb et semblablement de ladite église et cloistre, et tous les pilliers bouttans d'iceulx édiffices couverts de plomb. Le devant d'icelle librairie est moult richement orné et entaillé par le bas de collunnes d'estranges façons, et par le hault de riches feuillaiges, pinacles et tabernacles, garnis de grandes ymaiges, qui décorent et embelissent ledict édifice. La vis, par laquelle on y monte, est à six pans, larges pour y monter trois hommes de front, et couronné à l'entour de cleres voyes de massonerie. Ladicte librairerie est toute pavée de petits carreaulx à diverses figures. It will be interesting to place by the side of this description a second, written nearly two hundred years later, by the authors of the _Voyage Littéraire_, who visited Clairvaux in the spring of 1709: Le grand cloître ... est voûté et vitré. Les religieux y doivent garder un perpétuel silence. Dans le côté du chapitre il y a des livres enchaînez sur des pupitres de bois, dans lesquels les religieux peuvent venir faire des lectures lorsqu'ils veulent.... Du grand cloître on entre dans le cloître du colloque, ainsi appellé, parce qu'il est permis aux religieux d'y parler. Il y a dans ce cloître douze ou quinze petites cellules tout d'un rang, où les religieux écrivoient autrefois des livres: c'est pourquoy on les appelle encore aujourd'hui les écritoires. Au-dessus de ces cellules est la bibliothèque, dont le vaisseau est grand, voûté, bien percé, et rempli d'un grand nombre de manuscrits, attachez avec des chaînes sur des pupitres, mais il y a peu de livres imprimez[239]. The plan of the substruction of this new library, as shewn on the ground-plan of Clairvaux given by Viollet Le Duc[240], is exactly the same as that of Citeaux (fig. 33) but on a larger scale. The library itself, as there, was approached by a newel stair at its south-west corner. This stair was hexagonal, and of a diameter sufficient to allow three men to ascend at the same time. The library was of great extent--being about 206 feet long by 56 feet broad--if the dimensions given in the above account be correct, and if I am right in supposing a pace (_passée_) to be equivalent to a modern _mètre_; vaulted, and well lighted. The Queen's secretary seems to have been specially struck by the beauty, the size, and the decoration of the windows. The floor was paved with encaustic tiles. It will be interesting to note how, in some Houses, the library slowly expanded itself, occupying, one after another, every coign of vantage-ground. An excellent example of this growth is to be found in the abbey of Saint Germain des Près, Paris; and fortunately there are several views, taken at different periods before the Revolution, on which the gradual extension of the library can be readily traced. I append a portion of two of these. The first (fig. 36), dated 1687, shews the library over the south walk of the cloister, where it was placed in 1555. It must not, however, be supposed that no library existed before this. On the contrary, the House seems to have had one from the first foundation, and so early as the thirteenth century it could be consulted by strangers, and books borrowed from it. The second view (fig. 37), dated 1724, shews a still further extension of the library. It has now invaded the west side of the cloister, which has received an upper storey; and even the external appearance of the venerable Frater, which was respected when nearly all the rest of the buildings were rebuilt in a classical style, has been sacrificed to a similar gallery. The united lengths of these three rooms must have been little short of 384 feet. This library was at the disposal of all scholars who desired to use it. When the Revolution came it contained more than 49,000 printed books, and 7000 manuscripts[241]. [Illustration: Fig. 36. Part of the Abbey of S. Germain des Près, Paris. From a print dated 1687; reproduced in _Les Anciennes Bibliothèques de Paris_, par Alf. Franklin, Vol. I. p 126.] 1 Porta major monasterii. 2 Atrium ecclesie. 3 Regalis basilica. 4 Sacrarium. 5 Claustrum parvum B. M. 7 Dormitorium. 8 Bibliotheca. 9 Dormitoria R. Patrum Congregationis. 10 Aulæ Hospitum. 12 Refectorium. [Illustration: Fig. 37. Part of the Abbey of S. Germain des Près, Paris. From a print in _Histoire de l'Abbaye Royale de Saint Germain des Prez_, par Dom Jacques Bouillart, fol. Paris, 1724, lettered "l'Abbaye ... telle qu'elle est présentement."] A. Porte Extérieure. B. Maisons de l'enclos. C. Parvis de l'Eglise. D. L'Eglise. F. Saciristie. G. Petit Cloître. H. Grand Cloître. I. Bibliothèque. K. Dortoir. L. Réfectoire. M. Cuisine. Z. Dortoir des Hôtes. I now pass to Cathedrals, which vied with monasteries in the possession of a library; and, as might be expected, the two sets of buildings throw light on each other. I regret that it has now become impossible to discover the site or the extent of such a library as that of York, which was well stocked with books so early as the middle of the eighth century; or of that of Notre Dame de Paris, which was a centre of instruction as well as of learning; but some good examples of capitular libraries can be found in other places; and, like those of the monasteries, they were for the most part built in the fifteenth century. I will begin with the library of Lincoln Cathedral, part of which is still in existence[242]. The Cathedral of Lincoln was founded at the close of the eleventh century, and in the middle of the twelfth we find the books belonging to it kept in a press (_armarium_). We learn this from the heading of a list[243] of them when placed in the charge of Hamo, Chancellor 1150-1182, written on the first page of a copy of the Vulgate, the first volume in the collection: Quando Hamoni cancellario cancellaria data fuit et librorum cura commissa, hos in armario invenit libros et sub custodia sua recepit, scilicet: Bibliothecam in duobus voluminibus [etc.]. The list which follows enumerates 42 volumes, together with a map of the world. To this small collection there were added in Hamo's time, either by his own gift or by that of other benefactors, 31 volumes more; so that before his death the press contained 73 volumes, probably a large collection for that period. Besides these, there were service-books in the charge of the bursar (_thesaurarius_), and song-books in that of the precentor. The three collections were probably kept in the church. The first indication of a separate room to contain books is afforded by the gift of a volume by Philip Repyndon, Bishop 1405-1419, in which year he resigned. It is given after his resignation, "to the new library to be built within the Church of Lincoln." Again, Thomas Duffield, formerly Chancellor, who died in 1426, bequeathed another book "to the new library of the aforesaid church." The erection of the new library may therefore be placed between 1419 and 1426. A catalogue, now in the muniment room at Lincoln, which, on internal evidence, may be dated about 1450, enumerates 107 works, of which 77 (more or less) have been identified as still in the library. The heading, which I will translate, refers to a chaining of the books which had recently taken place, possibly after the construction of the cases which I shall describe in a subsequent chapter. It is to be noted that in this indenture are enumerated all the books in the library of the church of blessed Mary of Lincoln which have lately been secured with locks and chains; of which indenture one part is stitched into the end of the black book of the aforesaid church, and the other part remains in ...[244]. The library--a timber structure--was placed over the northern half of the east walk of the cloister. At present only three bays at the north end remain; but there were originally two bays more, at the south end, between the existing structure and the Chapter-House. These were destroyed in 1789, when the following Chapter Order was made (7 May): That the old Library adjoining to the Chapter House shall be taken down, and the part of the Cloysters under it new leaded and the walls compleated, and the Stair case therto removed, and a new Stair Case made, agreable to a plan and estimate of the Expence thereof. I will now briefly describe the room, with the assistance of the plan (fig. 38)[245], and the view of the interior (fig. 39). [Illustration: Fig. 39. Interior of the Old Library, Lincoln Cathedral. The open door leads into Dean Honywood's Library, as described in Chapter VIII.] The walls are 9 ft. 8 in. high, from the floor to the top of the wall-plate. They are divided into bays, each 7 ft. 9 in. wide, by vertical shafts, from which, at a height of 5 ft. 9 in. from the ground, spring the braces which support the tiebeams of the roof. These are massive beams of oak, slightly arched, and molded on their under-surface. Their position is indicated by dotted lines on the plan (fig. 38). The whole roof is a splendid specimen of fifteenth century work, enriched with carving in the finest style of execution. There is a bold ornament in the centre of each tiebeam; and at the foot of the central joist in each bay, which is wider than the rest, and molded, while the others are plain, there is an angel, projecting horizontally from the wall. The purlin, again, is molded, and where it intersects the central joist a subject is carved: an angel playing on a musical instrument--a bird--a rose--a grotesque figure--and the like. Below the wall-plate is a cornice, 12 in. deep, ornamented with a row of quatrefoils above a row of battlements. Beneath these there is a groove, which seems to indicate that the walls were once panelled or plastered. [Illustration: Fig. 38. Plan of the Old Library, Lincoln Cathedral.] It is probable that there was originally a row of equidistant windows in the east and west walls, one to each bay on each side; but of these, if they ever existed, no trace remains. There must also have been a window at the north end, and probably one at the south end also. The present windows are plainly modern. The room is known to have suffered from a fire, which tradition assigns to 1609; and probably the original windows were changed during the repairs rendered necessary at that time. [Illustration: Fig. 40. Plan of the Cloister, etc., Lincoln Cathedral.] It is not easy to decide how this library was approached. It has been suggested that the stone newel stair at the north-west corner of the Chapter-House was used for this purpose; but, if that be the case, how are we to explain the words in the above order "the Stair Case thereto removed"; and an item which occurs in the Cathedral Accounts for 1789, "taking down the old stairs, strings, and banisters, 14_s._"? It appeared to me, when examining the building, that there had been originally a door on the east side, now replaced by a window, as shewn on the plan (fig. 38). Possibly the staircase destroyed in 1789 led to this door, which was conveniently situated in the centre of a bay. The staircase built in 1789 is the one still existing at the north-east corner of the old library (fig. 40, A). At Salisbury Bishop Osmund (1078-99) is stated to have "got together a quantity of books, for he himself did not disdain either to write books or to bind them after they had been written"[246]; but the library, as elsewhere, was a work of the fifteenth century. The foundation is very clearly recorded in an act of the Chapter, dated 15 January, 1444-45. The members present decide that as it is desirable, "for divers reasons, to have certain schools suitable for lectures, together with a library for the safe keeping of books and the convenience of those who wish to study therein--which library up to the present time they have been without--such schools and library shall be built as soon as possible over one side of the cloister of the church, at the cost of William [Ayscough] now Bishop of Salisbury, the Dean, and the Canons of the aforesaid church[247]." Accordingly, a building was erected, extending over the whole length of the east cloister, conveniently approached by the staircase at the south-west corner of the south transept, which originally led only to the roof. This library was curtailed to its present dimensions, and otherwise altered, in consequence of a Chapter Order dated 25 November, 1758, part of which I proceed to quote: That the southern part of the library be taken down as far as the partitions within which the manuscripts are placed, the whole being found much too heavy to be properly supported by the Cloysters, which were never designed originally to bear so great a weight. That the roof of the northern part of the library (where the Theological lecture antiently used to be given by the Chancellor of the Church) be taken down; the walls lowered, and a new and lighter roof be placed in its room; and that the same be fitted up in a neat and convenient manner for the reception of the present books and any others which shall hereafter be added to them. The appearance of the library, as the execution of the above order left it, will be understood from the view (fig. 41), taken from the roof of an adjoining alley of the cloister. Internally the room is 66 feet long, 20 feet wide, and 12 ft. 9 in. high. It has a flat plaster ceiling, part of the "new and lighter roof" imposed on the lowered walls in 1758. The fittings are wholly modern. The library attached to S. Paul's Cathedral, London, by which I mean the medieval cathedral commonly called Old S. Paul's, was in a similar position. Its history is succinctly recorded by Dugdale. After describing the cemetery called Pardon Church Hawgh, with the cloister that surrounded it, he proceeds: _The Library._ Over the East quadrant of the before mentioned Cloyster, was a fair _Library_ built, at the costs of _Walter Shiryngton_, Chancelour of the Duchy of Lancaster in King Henry the 6th's time: But in the year MDXLIX. 10. _Apr._ both Chapell, Cloyster, and Monuments, excepting onely that side where the _Library_ was, were pulled down to the ground, by the appointment of _Edward_ Duke of Somerset, then Lord Protector to King _Edward_ 6. and the materialls carried into the Strand, towards the building of that stately fabrick called Somerset-House, which he then erected; the ground where they stood being afterwards converted into a Garden, for the Pettie Canons[248]. [Illustration: Fig. 42. Plan of the Library in Wells Cathedral. Scale 1/10 inch=1 foot.] [Illustration: Fig. 41. Exterior of the Library at Salisbury Cathedral, looking north-east.] Nothing is known of the dimensions or arrangement of the above room; but, as it was over a cloister, it must have been long and narrow, like that which still exists in a similar position at Wells Cathedral, which I will briefly mention next. The Chapter Library at Wells Cathedral occupies the south end of a long, narrow room over the east pane of the cloister, approached by a spiral staircase from the south transept. This room is about 162 feet long by 12 feet wide; the portion assigned to the library is about 106 feet long (fig. 42). The roof was originally divided into 13 spaces by oak principals, very slightly arched, resting on stone corbels. There were two windows on each side to each space. In the part fitted up as a library the principals have been plastered over to imitate stone, and the joists between them concealed by a ceiling. There is a tradition that this room was fitted up as a library in 1472. The present fittings, which I shall have occasion to mention in a subsequent chapter, were put up when the library was refitted and stocked with books after the Restoration[249]. These four examples--at Lincoln, Salisbury, S. Paul's, and Wells--are typical of Cathedral libraries built over a cloister. I will next notice some that were detached. [Illustration: Fig. 43. Plan of the Library at Lichfield Cathedral. From _History and Antiquities of Staffordshire_, by Stebbing Shaw, fol. Lond. 1798, Vol. 11. p. 244.] The library of Lichfield Cathedral[250] stood on the north side of the cathedral, west of the north door, at some little distance from the church (fig. 43). It was begun in 1489, when Thomas Heywood, dean, "gave £40 towards building a library of brick," and completed in 1493. It was about 60 feet long by 15 feet wide, approached by a flight of stairs. As the Chapter Order (9 December, 1757) which authorised its destruction speaks of the "Library, Chapter Clerk's House, and Cloisters," I suspect that it stood on a colonnade, after the manner of the beautiful structure at Noyon, a cathedral town in eastern France, at no great distance from Amiens. This library--which I have carefully examined on two occasions--was built in pursuance of the following Order of the Chapter, 16 November, 1506. Le 16. iour de Nouembre audit an, l'affaire de la Librairie se remet sus. Le sieur Doyen offre cent francs pour cet oeuure. Et le 20. iour de Nouembre, ouy le Maistre de Fabrique et Commissaires à ce deputez, fut arrestée le long de l'allée qui meine de l'Eglise à la porte Corbaut; et à cet effect sera tiré le bois à ce necessaire de nos forests, et se fera ladite Librairie suiuant le pourtrait ou patron exhibé au Chapitre le sixiesme iour de Mars 1506. Le Bailly de Chapitre donne cent sols pour ce bastiment, à condition qu'il en aura une clef[251]. This library (fig. 44) is, so far as I know, an unique specimen of a library built wholly of wood, supported on wooden pillars with stone bases, so that it is raised about 10 feet above the stone floor on which they rest, probably for the sake of dryness. There is a legend that a market used to be held there; but at present the spaces between the pillars have been filled in on the south side. The one here represented (fig. 45) stands on the north side, in a small yard between the library and the cathedral. [Illustration: Fig. 44. Chapter-Library at Noyon, France.] The site selected for the building is on the south side of the choir of the cathedral, with its longest axis north and south. It measures 72 feet in length by 17 feet in width between walls, but was originally longer, a piece having been cut off at the south end, where the entrance now is, and where the library is now terminated by a stone wall of classical character. Tradition places the entrance at the opposite end, by means of an external staircase; an arrangement which would have been more convenient for the members of the Chapter, as they could have approached it through their vestry, which is on the south side of the choir. There are now nine windows on the east side--originally there were at least ten; but none on the west side, and it is doubtful if there ever were any, as they would be rendered useless by the proximity of other structures. The fittings are modern and without interest. [Illustration: Fig. 45. A single pillar of the cloister beneath the Chapter Library at Noyon.] At Bayeux also the Chapter-library is a detached building--of stone, in two floors, about 40 feet long by 26 feet wide, but I have not been able to discover the date at which it was built; and at York a detached library was built 1421-22 at the south-west corner of the south transept. This building, in two floors, the upper of which appears to have held the books, is still in existence. The Cathedral library at Troyes, built by Bishop Louis Raguier between 1477 and 1479, to replace an older structure, was in an unusual position, and arranged in an unusual manner. It abutted against the south-east angle of the south transept, from which it could be entered. It was nearly square, being 30 feet long by 24 feet broad; and the vault was supported on a central pillar, from which radiated the six desks which contained the books (fig. 46). It was called _La Theologale_, because lectures on theology were given in it, as in the library at Salisbury. The desks were taken down in 1706, and the whole structure swept away in 1841-42, by the Departmental Architect, in the course of "a thorough restoration[252]." [Illustration: Fig. 46. Plan of the Library at the south-east angle of the south transept of the Cathedral at Troyes. A, B, C, D, Library; E, Entrance from vestibule in front of south transept door. The room on the east side of this passage was used to keep records in.] At this point I cannot refrain from mentioning a somewhat anomalous library-foundation at Worcester, due to the zeal of Bishop Carpenter (1444-76), though both structure and foundation have been long since swept away[253]. In 1464 he built and endowed a library in connexion with the charnel-house or chapel of S. Thomas, martyr, a detached building on the north side of the cathedral. The deed in which this foundation is recorded contains so many interesting particulars that I will state briefly the most important points insisted upon[254]. The Bishop begins by stating that by ancient arrangement the sacrist of the cathedral, assisted by a chaplain, is bound to celebrate mass daily in the charnel-house or chapel aforesaid, to keep it in repair, and to supply it with ornaments and vestments. For this purpose an annual endowment of 15 marks has been provided. He then describes his own foundation. In accordance with the intention of his predecessors, and actuated by a desire to increase the knowledge of our holy faith, he has built a library in the aforesaid charnel-house, and caused certain books to be chained therein. Further, lest these volumes should be left uncared for, and so be damaged or abstracted, he has caused a dwelling-house for a master or keeper of the said books to be erected at the end of the said library; and he has conferred on the said keeper a new stipend, in addition to the old stipend of 15 marks. This keeper must be a graduate in theology, and a good preacher. He is to live in the said chantry, and say mass daily in the chapel thereof. He is to take care of all the books in the library, which he is to open on every week-day for two hours before None, and for two hours after None, to all who wish to enter for the purpose of study. He is to explain hard and doubtful passages of scripture when asked to do so, and once in every week to deliver a public lecture in the library. Moreover on Holy Thursday he is to preach in the cathedral, or at the cross in the burial-ground. Further, in order to prevent any book being alienated, or carried away, or stolen from the library, a tripartite list of all the books is to be made, wherein the true value of each is to be set down. One of these lists is to be retained by the Bishop, another by the sacrist, and a third by the keeper. Whenever a book is bequeathed or given to the library it is to be at once set down in this list together with its true value. On the Friday after the feast of Relics (27 January) in each year, the sacrist and the keeper are carefully to compare the books with the list; and should any book have disappeared from the library through the carelessness of the keeper, he is to replace it or the value of it within one month, under a penalty of forty shillings, whereof twenty shillings is to be paid to the Bishop, and twenty shillings to the sacrist. When the aforesaid month has fully expired, the sacrist is to set apart out of his own salary a sum sufficient to pay the above fine, and to purchase and chain in the library as soon as possible another book of the same value and material. The keeper is to receive from the sacrist an annual salary of ten pounds, and four yards of woollen cloth to make him a gown and hood. The sacrist is to keep the chapel, library, books, and chains, together with the house built for the use of the keeper, in good repair; and he is, moreover, to find and maintain the vestments and lights required for the chapel. All these duties he is to swear on the Holy Gospels that he will faithfully perform. My enumeration of Cathedral libraries would be sadly incomplete if I did not say a few words about the splendid structure which is attached to the Cathedral of Rouen[255]. The Chapter possessed a respectable collection of books at so early a date as 1120; this grew, and, 29 July, 1424, it was decided to build "a study or library (_quoddam studium seu vnam librariam_)," which was completed in 1428. Fifty years afterwards--in 1477--it was decided that the library should be extended. The first thought of the Chapter was that it should be built of wood, and the purchase of good stout timber (_bona et grossa ligna_) is ordered. This plan, however, was evidently abandoned almost as soon as it was formed, for two years afterwards (20 April 1479) "the library lately erected" is mentioned. These words can only refer to the existing structure which is built wholly of stone. A week later (28 April) William Pontis, master-mason, was asked to prepare a design for a staircase up to the library. This he supplied on the following day. In June of the same year the Chapter had a serious difference of opinion with him on the ground that he had altered the design and exceeded the estimate. They came, however, to the wise conclusion that he should go on with the work and be requested to finish it with all dispatch. In the following spring (20 March 1480) it was decided to prolong the library as far as the street; and in 1481 (18 September) to build the beautiful stone gate surmounted by a screen in open-work through which the court is now entered. This was completed by the end of 1482. The whole structure had therefore occupied about five years in building. The library, together with a building of older date next to the Cathedral which serves as a sort of vestibule to it, occupies the west side of what is still called, from the booksellers' shops which used to stand there, _La Cour des Libraires_. The whole building measures 105 ft. in length, by 25 ft. in breadth. The library proper is lighted by six windows in the east wall, and by two windows in the north wall. The masonry of the wall under these windows and the two lancets by which it is pierced indicate that advantage had been taken of an earlier building to form the substructure of the library. The west wall must always have been blank. Access to the library was obtained directly from the transept by means of the beautiful stone staircase in two flights which Pontis built in 1479. This staircase leads up to a door marked BIBLIOTHECA which opens into the vestibule above mentioned. In 1788 a room was built over the library to contain the archives of the church, and the staircase was then ingeniously prolonged so as to reach the new second-floor. Unfortunately the minutes of the Chapter tell us nothing about the original fittings of this room[256]. In 1718 the books were kept in cupboards protected by wire-work, over which were the portraits of benefactors to the library[257]. At present the archives have disappeared; the few books that remain have replaced them in the upper storey, and the library is used as a second vestry. The illustration (fig. 47) shews the interior of the _Cour des Libraires_, with the beautiful gate of entrance from the street. The library occupies the first floor. Beneath are the arches under which the shops used to be arranged; and above is the library of 1788. [Illustration: Fig. 47. Interior of the _Cour des Libraires_, Rouen, shewing the gate of entrance from the street, and the Library.] FOOTNOTES: [208] _Catalogi Bibliothecarum antiqui_; ed. G. Bekker, 8vo. 1885, pp. 24-28. [209] _Ibid._, pp. 43-53. [210] _Ibid._, pp. 64-73. [211] _Ibid._ p. 82-120. [212] _Catalogi Veteres Librorum Eccl. Cath. Dunelm._, ed. Surtees Soc. 1838, pp. 1-10. [213] See a letter by Dr M. R. James in _The Guardian_, 18 May, 1898. [214] _Catalogi Veteres Librorum Eccl. Cath. Dunelm._ Ed. Surtees Soc, 1838, pp. 46-79. This catalogue is dated Easter, 1395. [215] _Ibid._ pp. 10-34. This catalogue is dated 1391. [216] _Ibid._ pp. 34-38. Of the same date. [217] _Ibid._ pp. 80, 81. These volumes are recorded in the first of the above catalogues. [218] _Ibid._ pp. 81-84. The date is 1395. For a description of the Spendment see _Rites of Durham_, _ut supra_, p. 71. [219] Printed in _Catalogue général des manuscrits des Bibliothèques Publiques de France_, V. 339-452. [220] Inventarium librorum monasterii Cistercii, Cabilonensis diocesis, factum per nos, fratrem Johannem, abbatem eiusdem loci, anno Domini millesimo CCCC octuagesimo, postquam per duos annos continuos labore duorum et sepius trium ligatorum eosdem libros aptari, ligari, et cooperiri, cum magnis sumptibus et expensis fecimus. [221] Et primo librorum existencium in libraria dormitorii, quam ut est disposuimus, cum locus ipse prius diu fuisset inutilis et dudum arti sutorie et vestiario serviebat, sicut per aliquas annexas armariorumque dispositiones apparebat, sed a II^o annis vel circa nichil aut parum ibi fuerat. [222] _Dictionnaire raisonné de l'Architecture_, I. 271. He does not give the date, but, when I examined the original in the _Bibliothèque Nationale_, I found it plainly dated 1674. It is a most valuable record, as it shews the monastic buildings, which were greatly altered at the beginning of the last century, in their primitive state. [223] With this use of the word _linea_ may be compared the word _rayon_, now usually used in France for a shelf, especially a book-shelf. [224] Godwin, _De Præsulibus Angliæ_, ed. Richardson, I. 126. [225] _Anglia Sacra_, I. 145. Librariam etiam supra Capellam Prioris situatam perpulcrâ cælaturâ adornavit, quam etiam nonnullis libris instaurari fecit, ad usum maximè literarum studiis deditorum, quos miro studio et benevolentia nutrivit et fovit. [226] _Rites of Durham_, p. 26. [227] Item structura ij fenestrarum in Libraria tam in opere lapideo, ferrario et vitriario, ac in reparacione tecti descorum et ij ostiorum, necnon reparacione librorum se extendit ad iiij^{oo}x^i. xvj^o. et ultra. _Hist. Dunelm. Scriptores tres._ Ed. Surtees Soc. p. cclxxiii. [228] _Regist. Abbatiæ Johannis Whethamstede Abbatis monasterii sancti Albani iterum susceptæ_: ed. II. T. Riley, Rolls Ser. Vol. I. p. 423. [229] _Hist. and Ant. of Worcester._ By V. Green, 4to. Lond. 1796. Vol. I. p. 79. The measurements in the text were taken by myself in 1895. [230] _Monumenta Franciscana_, ed. J. S. Brewer, Rolls Ser. Vol. I. p. 319, from a document called "Prima fundatio fratrum minorum Londoniæ," MSS. Cotton, Vitellius, F. xii. [231] Stow's _Survey_, ed. Strype, fol. Lond. 1720, Book 3, p. 130. [232] _History of Christ's Hospital_, by Rev. W. Trollope, 4to. Lond. 1834, App. p. xxiii. The view of the library (fig. 32) is borrowed from this work. [233] I have to thank M. Joseph Garnier, Archiviste du Département, for his great kindness, not only in allowing me to examine these precious relics, but in having them conveyed to a photographer, and personally superintending a reproduction of them for my use. [234] This plan is not dated, but, from internal evidence, it forms part of the set to which the bird's-eye view and the general ground-plan belong. They were taken when "des projets," as the heading calls them, were being discussed. One of these was an increase of the library by the addition of a long gallery at the east end at right angles to the original construction. [235] _Voyage Littéraire de deux Religieux Benedictins_, 4to. Paris, 1717, I. 198, 221. [236] I have taken 1 _toise_=6·39 feet. [237] I have to thank M. Léon Dorez, of the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris, for kindly lending me his transcript of this catalogue, and for continual help in all my researches. [238] Printed in Didron, _Annales Archéologiques_, 1845, III. 228. The article is entitled: _Un grand monastère au XVI^{me} siècle_. I owe this reference to my friend Mr W. H. St John Hope, Assistant Secretary to the Society of Antiquaries. [239] _Voy. Litt._ I. 101, 102. [240] _Dictionnaire de l'Architecture_, I. 267. [241] For the history of this library see Bouillart's work cited at the foot of Fig. 37; and Franklin, _Anciennes Bibliothèques de Paris_, Vol. I. pp. 107-134. [242] For the historical information contained in this narrative, which originally appeared as a paper in the _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ IX. 37 for 18 February, 1895, I am indebted to an article in _The Builder_, 2 April, 1892, pp. 259-263, by my friend the late Rev. E. Venables, Canon and Precentor of Lincoln. [243] This list has been printed in the Appendix to _Giraldus Cambrensis_ (Rolls Series), VII. 165-171. [244] Memorandum quod in ista indentura continentur omnes libri existentes in libraria ecclesie beate Marie Lincoln de novo sub seruris cathenati, cuius quidem indenture una pars consuitur in fine nigri libri dicte ecclesie et altera pars remanet in.... The rest of the line is illegible. I have to thank the Rev. A. R. Maddison for kindly lending me his transcript of this valuable MS. [245] For this plan I have to thank my friend T. D. Atkinson, Esq., of Cambridge, architect. [246] William of Malmesbury, _Gesta Pontificum_, Rolls Ser. p. 183. [247] Ex eo quod visum est eis vtile et necessarium diuersis causis eos moventibus habere quasdam scolas competentes pro lecturis suis vna cum libraria ad conseruacionem librorum et vtilitatem inibi studere volencium qua hactenus caruerunt statuerunt ... quod super vna parte claustri eiusdem ecclesie huiusmodi scole edificentur ... cum libraria [etc.]. Chapter Act Book. I have to thank A. R. Malden, Esq., Chapter Clerk, for his kind assistance. [248] Dugdale, _History of S. Paul's Cathedral_, fol. 1658, p. 132. [249] I have fully described this library and its fittings in _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ 1891. Vol. viii., pp. 6-10. [250] My account of the library at Lichfield is derived from the _History and Antiquities of the Church and City of Lichfield_, by Rev. Th. Harwood, 4to. Gloucester, 1806, p. 180; and the Chapter Act Book, which I was allowed to examine through the kindness of my friend the Very Rev. H. M. Luckock, D.D., Dean. [251] Levasseur, _Annales de L'Eglise Cathédrale de Noyon_, 4to. Paris, 1633, p. IIII. A marginal note tells us that the gift of the Bailly de Chapitre was accepted 14 June, 1507. [252] _Voyage archéologique ... dans le Département de l'Aube._ A. F. Arnaud. 4to. Troyes 1837, pp. 161-163. [253] For the library belonging to the monastery see p. 108. [254] The deed is copied in _MSS. Prattinton_ (Soc. Ant. Lond.), Vol. VIII. p. 379. For this reference I have to thank the Rev. J. K. Floyer, M.A., librarian of Worcester Cathedral. See his _Thousand Years of a Cathedral Library_ in the _Reliquary_ for Jan. 1901, p. 7. [255] My principal authority for the history of the Chapter Library is the Minute-Book of the Dean and Chapter of Rouen Cathedral, now preserved in the Archives de la Ville at Rouen, where I had the pleasure of studying it in September, 1896. A summary of it is given in _Inventaire-Sommaire des Archives Départementales_ (Seine Inférieure), 4to. Paris, 1874, Vol. II. I have also consulted _Recherches sur les Bibliothèques ... de Rouen_, 8vo., 1853. [256] The Canons held a long debate, 28 May, 1479, "de ambonibus seu lutrinis in nova libraria fiendis et collocandis"; but finally decided to use the furniture of the old library for the present. [257] _Voyage Liturgique de la France_, par Le Sieur de Moléon, 1718, p. 268. I have to thank Dr James for this quotation. CHAPTER IV. THE FITTINGS OF MONASTIC LIBRARIES AND OF COLLEGIATE LIBRARIES PROBABLY IDENTICAL. ANALYSIS OF SOME LIBRARY-STATUTES. MONASTIC INFLUENCE AT THE UNIVERSITIES. NUMBER OF BOOKS OWNED BY COLLEGES. THE COLLEGIATE LIBRARY. BISHOP COBHAM'S LIBRARY AT OXFORD. LIBRARY AT QUEENS' COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. AT ZUTPHEN. THE LECTERN SYSTEM. CHAINING OF BOOKS. FURTHER EXAMPLES AND ILLUSTRATIONS. How were the libraries mentioned in the preceding chapter fitted up? For instance, what manner of bookcases did Archbishop Chichele put into his library at Canterbury in 1414, or the "bons ouvriers subtilz et plains de sens" supply to the Abbat of Clairvaux in 1496? The primitive book-presses have long ago been broken up; and the medieval devices that succeeded them have had no better fate. This dearth of material need not, however, discourage us. We have, I think, the means of discovering with tolerable certainty what monastic fittings must have been, by comparing the bookcases which still exist in a more or less perfect form in the libraries of Oxford and Cambridge with such monastic catalogues as give particulars of arrangement and not merely lists of books. The collegiate system was in no sense monastic, indeed it was to a certain extent established to counteract monastic influence; but it is absurd to suppose that the younger communities would borrow nothing from the elder--especially when we reflect that the monastic system, as inaugurated by S. Benedict, had completed at least seven centuries of successful existence before Walter de Merton was moved to found a college, and that many of the subsequent founders of colleges were more or less closely connected with monasteries. Further, as we have seen that study was specially enjoined upon monks by S. Benedict, it is precisely in the direction of study that we might expect to find features common to the two sets of communities. And, in fact, an examination of the statutes affecting the library in the codes imposed upon some of the earlier colleges at Oxford and Cambridge, leads us irresistibly to the conclusion that they were derived from monastic Customs, using the word in its technical sense, and monastic practice. The resemblances are too striking to be accidental. I shall therefore, in the next place, review, as briefly as I can, the statutes of some of the above colleges, taking them in chronological order[258]; and I shall translate some passages from them. But first let me mention that the principle of lending books to students under a pledge was accepted by the University of Oxford many years before colleges were founded. It is recorded that Roger L'Isle, Dean of York, in the early part of the thirteenth century, "bestowed several exemplars of the holy Bible to be used by the Scholars of Oxford under a pledge"; that the said books, with others, were "locked up in chests, or chained upon desks in S. Mary's Chancel and Church to be used by the Masters upon leave first obtained"; that certain officers were appointed to keep the keys of these chests, and to receive the pledges from those that borrowed the books; and that the books were so kept "till the library over the Congregation House was built, and then being taken out, were set up in pews or studies digested according to Faculties, chained, and had a keeper appointed over them[259]." In the statutes of Merton College, Oxford, 1274, the teacher of grammar (_grammaticus_) is to be supplied with a sufficient number of books out of the funds of the House, but no other mention of books occurs therein[260]. The explanatory ordinances, however, given in 1276 by Robert Kilwardby (Archbishop of Canterbury 1273-79), direct that the books of the community are to be kept under three locks, and to be assigned by the warden and sub-warden to the use of the Fellows under sufficient pledge[261]. In the second statutes of University College (1292), it is provided, "that no Fellow shall alienate, sell, pawn, hire, lett, or grant, any House, Rent, Money, Book, or other Thing, without the Consent of all the Fellows"; and further, with special reference to the Library: Every Book of the House, now given, or hereafter to be given, shall have a high value set upon it when it is borrowed, in order that he that has it may be more fearful lest he lose it; and let it be lent by an Indenture, whereof one part is to be kept in the common Chest, and the other with him that has the Book: And let no Book, belonging to the House, be lent out of the College, without a Pawn better (than the Book), and this with the Consent of all the Fellows. Let there be put one Book of every Sort that the House has, in some common and secure Place; that the Fellows, and others with the Consent of a Fellow, may for the Future have the Benefit of it. Every Opponent in Theology, or Reader of the Sentences, or a Regent that commonly reads (_regens et legens communiter_), when he wants it, shall have any necessary Book, that the House has, lent to him Gratis; and when he has done with it, let him restore it to that Fellow, who had formerly made choice of it[262]. The statutes of Oriel College, dated 1329, lay down the following rules for the management of books: The common books (_communes libri_) of the House are to be brought out and inspected once a year, on the feast of the Commemoration of Souls [2 November], in presence of the Provost or his deputy, and of the Scholars [Fellows]. Every one of them in turn, in order of seniority, may select a single book which either treats of the science to which he is devoting himself, or which he requires for his use. This he may keep, if he please, until the same festival in the succeeding year, when a similar selection of books is to take place, and so on, from year to year. If there should happen to be more books than persons, those that remain are to be selected in the same manner[263]. The last clause plainly shews how small the number of the books must have been when the statute was written. Their safety was subsequently secured by an ordinance of the Provost and Scholars, which, by decree of the Visitor, dated 13 May, 1441, received the authority of a statute. The high value set upon the books is shewn by the extreme stringency of the penalties imposed for wilful loss or failure of restitution. After describing the annual assemblage of the Provost and Fellows, as directed in the former statute, the new enactment proceeds as follows: Any person who absents himself on that day, so that the books selected by him are neither produced nor restored; or who, being present, refuses to produce or to restore them; or who refuses to pay the full value, if, without any fraud or deception on his part, it should happen that any one of them be missing; is to be deprived of all right of selecting books for that year; and any person who wittingly defers the aforesaid production or restitution till Christmas next ensuing, shall, _ipso facto_, cease to be a Fellow. Further, any scholar who has pawned or alienated, contrary to the common consent of the college, any book or object of value (_jocale_) belonging to the college; or who has even suggested, helped, or favoured, such pawning or alienation, shall, _ipso facto_, cease to be a member of the Society[264]. The statutes of Peterhouse, Cambridge, dated 1344, class the books of the Society with the charters and the muniments, and prescribe the following rules for their safe custody: In order that the books which are the common property of the House (_communes libri_), the charters, and the muniments, may be kept in safe custody, we appoint and ordain that an indenture be drawn up of the whole of them in the presence of at least the major part of the scholars, expressing what the books are, and to what faculty they belong; of which indenture one part is to be deposited with the Master, the other with the Deans, as a record of the transaction. The aforesaid books, charters, and muniments are to be placed in one or more common chests, each having two locks, one key of which shall for greater security be deposited with the Master, the other with the Senior Dean, who shall cause the books to be distributed to those scholars who have need of them, in the manner which has been more fully set forth in the section which treats of the office of the Deans[265]. The section referred to prescribes that the Deans are to distribute them [the books] to the scholars in such manner as shall appear to them expedient; and further, they shall, if they think proper, make each scholar take an oath that he will not alienate any book so borrowed, but will take all possible care of it, and restore it to the Master and Dean, at the expiration of the appointed time[266]. In 1473 Dr John Warkworth became Master. He was evidently a lover of books, for he gave to the Library fifty-five volumes, which he protected, after the fashion of an earlier age, by invoking a curse upon him who should alienate them. Moreover, during his Mastership, in 1480, the College enacted or adopted a special statute headed, _De libris Collegii_, which may be thus translated: In the name of God, Amen. As books are the most precious treasure of scholars, concerning which there ought to be the most diligent care and forethought, lest, as heretofore, they fall to decay or be lost, it is hereby appointed, settled, and ordained, by the Master and Fellows of the House or College of S. Peter in Cambridge, that no book which has been chained in the library there shall be taken away from, or removed out of, the library, except by special assent and consent of the Master and all the resident Fellows of the aforesaid College--it being understood that by resident Fellows a majority of the whole Society is meant. Provided always that no book which has been given to the library on condition of being kept perpetually chained therein shall, by virtue of this statute, be on any pretence removed from it, except only when it needs repair. Provided also that every book in the library which is to be selected and distributed shall have a certain value set upon it by the Master and the two Deans, and that indentures shall be drawn up recording the same. Once in every two years, in the Michaelmas Term, a fresh selection and distribution shall be held of every book which is not chained in the Library--the precise day to be fixed by the Master and the Senior Dean. No book so selected and distributed shall pass the night out of College, except by permission of the Master and the President and the other Dean who is not President; provided always that the said book be not kept out of the College for six months in succession. If it should happen that a given book be not brought in and produced on the aforesaid day of fresh selection and distribution, then the person who is responsible for it shall pay to the Master, or in his absence to the Senior Dean, the full value of the said absent book, under pain of being put out of commons until it be restored. Every Fellow who is not present on the aforesaid day shall appoint a deputy, who shall be prepared to bring in any books which may have been lent to him, on the day when a fresh distribution is to take place, under pain of being put out of commons[267]. The statutes given in 1350 to Trinity Hall, Cambridge, by the Founder William Bateman (Bishop of Norwich 1344-56), contain rules which are more stringent than those already quoted, and were evidently written in contemplation of a more considerable collection of volumes. A list of the books which he himself presented to Trinity Hall is appended to his statutes, and a special chapter (_De libris collegii_) is allotted to the Library. This may be translated as follows: On the days appointed for the general audit of accounts [in the Michaelmas and Easter Terms] all the books which have been received, or shall be received in future, either from our own liberality, or from the pious largess of others, are to be laid out separately before the Master and all the resident Fellows in such manner that each volume may be clearly seen; by which arrangement it will become evident twice in each year whether any book has been lost or taken away. No book belonging to the aforesaid College may ever at any time be sold, given away, exchanged, or alienated, under any excuse or pretext; nor may it be lent to anybody except a member of the College; nor may it be entrusted in quires, for the purpose of making a copy, to any member of the College, or to any stranger, either within the precincts of the Hall or beyond them; nor may it be carried by the Master, or any one else, out of the Town of Cambridge, or out of the aforesaid Hall or Hostel, either whole or in quires, except to the Schools; provided always that no book pass the night out of College, unless it be necessary to bind it or to repair it; and when this happens, it is to be brought back to College as soon as possible after the completion of the binding or the repair. Moreover, all the books of the College are to be kept in some safe room, to be assigned for the College Library, so that all the Scholars of the College may have common access to them. We give leave, however, that the poor scholars of the college may have the loan of books containing the texts of Canon and Civil Law for their private use for a certain time, to be fixed at the discretion of the Master and the three Senior Fellows, provided they be not taken out of College; but the books of the Doctors of Civil and Canon Law are to remain continuously in the said Library Chamber, fastened with iron chains for the common use of the Fellows[268]. It is evident that this statute was regarded as a full and satisfactory expression of what was required, for it is repeated, with additions or omissions to suit the taste of the respective founders, in the statutes of New College (1400), All Souls' (1443), Magdalen (1479), Corpus Christi (1517), Brasenose (1521), Cardinal College (1527) and S. John's College (1555), at Oxford; and in those of King's College, Cambridge. Among these changes a few are sufficiently important to require special notice. At New College William of Wykeham allows students in civil law and canon law to keep two text-books "for their own special use during the whole time they devote themselves to those faculties in our College, provided they do not possess such books of their own"; the "remaining text-books, should any be left over, and also the glosses or commentaries of the Doctors of civil and canon law, may be lent to the persons belonging to those faculties by the method of annual selection, as in the other faculties"; the "books which remain unassigned after the Fellows have made their selection are to be fastened with iron chains, and remain in the Common Library for the use of the Fellows[269]"; the wishes of donors, whether expressed by will or during their lifetime, are to be respected; and, lastly, the safety of the Library is to be secured by three locks, two large, and one small, of the kind called "a clickett." The keys of the two former are to be kept by the Senior Dean and the Bursar respectively; of the clickett each Fellow is to have a separate key. At night the door is to be carefully locked with all three keys[270]. At All Souls' College, the founder, Henry Chichele (Archbishop of Canterbury 1414-43), makes the books to be chained the subjects of definite choice. The principle of an annual selection is maintained, except for "those books which, in obedience to the will of the donors, or the injunction of the Warden, the Vice-Warden, and the Deans, are to be chained for the common use of the Fellows and Scholars." Further, the preparation of a catalogue is specially enjoined. Every book is to be entered in a register by the first word of the second leaf, and every book given to the Library is to bear the name of the donor on the second leaf, or in some other convenient position. The books are to be inspected once in every year, after which the distribution, as provided for by Bateman and Wykeham, is to take place. Each Fellow who borrows a book is to have a small indenture drawn up containing the title according to the first word of the second leaf, and an acknowledgment that he has received it. These small indentures are to be left in charge of the Warden, or, in his absence, of the Vice-Warden[271]. In the statutes of Magdalen College, the founder, William Waynflete (Bishop of Winchester 1447-87), maintains the provisions of Wykeham and Chichele, but introduces an injunction of his own, to the effect that every Fellow or Scholar who uses the Library is to shut the book he has consulted before he leaves and also the windows; and the last to use the Library at night is to go through the whole room and see that all the windows are shut and not to leave the door open--under a severe penalty[272]. At Corpus Christi College, the founder, Richard Fox (Bishop of Winchester 1501-28), insists upon safeguards against the indiscriminate chaining, of books: No book is to be brought into the Library or chained there, unless it be of suitable value and utility, or unless the will of the donor have so directed; and none is to be taken out of it, unless it so happen that there be there already a considerable number on the same subject, or that another copy in better condition and of greater value, to take its place, have been presented by some benefactor. By this means those books which are of greater value, or which contain material of greater utility to students in each Faculty, will be stored up in the Library; while those which are not fit for the Library, or of which a sufficient number of copies already exist in it, may be distributed to the Fellows of the College, according to the system of indentures between the borrower and the President, or in his absence the Vice-President, or one of the Deans[273]. The Bishop was evidently afraid that the Library should be overcrowded, for he even allows books to be sold, in the event of their becoming so numerous as to be no longer of use to the Fellows for the purpose of being borrowed. Lastly I will translate the following College Order or Statute which was in force at Pembroke College, Cambridge. Unfortunately it is without date, but from internal evidence may take rank with some of the earliest enactments already quoted. Let there be in the aforesaid House a Keeper of the Books, who shall take under his charge all the books belonging to the community, and once in each year, namely on the feast of the Translation of S. Thomas the Martyr [7 July], or at the latest within the eight days immediately following, let him render to the community an account of the same, by exhibiting each book in order to the Master and Fellows. The inspection having been made, after the Fellows have deliberated, let him distribute them to each Fellow in proportion to his requirements. And let the said Keeper have ready large pieces of board (_tabulas magnas_), covered with wax and parchment, that the titles of the books may be written on the parchment, and the names of the Fellows who hold them on the wax beside it. When they have brought their books back, their names shall be erased, and their responsibility for the books shall come to an end, the keeper remaining liable. So shall he never be in ignorance about any book or its borrower. No book is to be taken away or lent out of the House on any pretext whatever, except upon some occasion which may appear justifiable to the major part of the community; and then, if any book be lent, let a proper pledge be taken for it which shall be honourably exhibited to the Keeper[274]. Let us consider, in the next place, what points of library-management have been brought into the most prominent relief by the above analysis of College statutes. We find that the "Common Books" of the House--by which phrase the books intended for the common use of the inmates are meant--are placed on the same footing as the charters, muniments, and valuables (_jocalia_). They are to be kept in a chest or chests secured by two or three locks requiring the presence of the same number of officials to open them. These volumes may not be borrowed indiscriminately, but each Scholar (Fellow) may choose the book he wants, and write a formal acknowledgment that he has received it, and that he is bound to restore it or pay the value of it, under a severe penalty. Once a year the whole collection is to be audited in the presence of the Master of the College and all the Fellows, when a fresh distribution is to be made. The books not so borrowed are to be put in "some common and secure place"; an arrangement which was subsequently developed into a selection of books required for reference, and the chaining of them in "the Library Chamber for the common use of the Fellows." The Register of Merton College, Oxford, contains many interesting entries which shew that these directions respecting the choice and loan of books were faithfully observed. I will translate a few of them[275]: On the twenty-fourth day of October [1483] choice was made of the books on philosophy by the Fellows studying philosophy. On the eleventh day of November [1483], in the Warden's lodging, choice was made of the books on theology by the Fellows studying theology[276]. On the eighteenth day of March [1497] choice of books on logic was held in the Common Hall[277]. The next entry is particularly valuable, as it proves that all the books on a given subject, no matter how numerous, were occasionally distributed: On the twenty-sixth day of the same month [August, 1500] choice was made of the books on philosophy. It was found that there were in all 349 books, which were then distributed among the Fellows studying philosophy[278]. In 1498 (14 December) the Warden wished to borrow a book from the library, whereupon a record of the following formalities was drawn up[279]: On the same day a book of College Orders (on the second leaf _ter posita_) was taken out of the library with the consent of all the Fellows. And leave was given to the Warden, in the presence of the four senior Fellows, to make use of it for a season. As a caution for this book the aforesaid Warden deposited a certain other book, viz. S. Jerome's commentary on Matthew and the Epistles of Paul (on the second leaf _sunt_). This book lay in our possession as caution for the other book of College Orders[280]; but, because this book was an insufficient caution, there was deposited with it as a supplementary caution another book, namely: Jerome on Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. The Warden kept the book for a year, at the expiration of which we find the following entry[281]: On the last day but one of the same month [1499] the Warden returned to the Vice-Warden the book of College Orders (on the second leaf _ter posita_) which he had had out of the library for his own use for a season on depositing a sufficient caution. Whereupon the Vice-Warden returned to him his cautions, namely, the commentary of S. Jerome on Matthew (second leaf _sunt_), and another, namely, S. Jerome's exposition of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel (second leaf, _Audi cela_). Lastly, I will quote a record of the solemn reception of a gift to the library: On the same day [2 August, 1493] a handsome book was given to the College through John Godehew, Bachelor, by two venerable men, Robert Aubrey and Robert Feyld, to be chained in the common library of the House for the perpetual use of those studying in it. It is Hugh of Vienne on the Apocalypse, on the second leaf _quod possessio eius_. Let us therefore pray for them[282]. These provisions savour of the cloister. The "common books" represent the "common press (_armarium commune_)" with which we are so familiar there; the double or triple locks with which the book-chests are secured recall the rules for safeguarding the said press; the annual audit and distribution of books is directed in Lanfranc's statutes for English Benedictines; the borrowing under a pledge, or at least after an entry made by the Librarian on his roll of the name of the book and the name of the brother who borrowed it, was universal in monasteries; and the setting apart of certain books in a separate room to which access was readily permitted became a necessity in the larger and more literary Houses. Lastly, the commemoration of donors of books is specially enjoined by the Augustinians[283]. This close similarity between monastic and secular rules need not surprise us. I have shewn in the preceding chapter how faithfully the Benedictine rules for study were obeyed by all the Monastic Orders; and I know not from what other source directions for library-management could have been obtained. Besides, in some cases the authors of the rules which I have been considering must themselves have had experience of monastic libraries. Walter de Merton is said to have been educated in an Augustinian Priory at Merton; Hugh de Balsham, founder of Peterhouse, was Bishop of Ely; William Bateman, whose library-statute was so widely applied, had been educated in the Benedictine Priory at Norwich, and his brother was an abbat; Henry Chichele was Archbishop of Canterbury, where, as I have shewn, a very extensive collection of books had been got together, to contain which worthily he himself built a library. Secondly, monastic influence was brought directly to bear on both Universities through student-monks; and at Oxford, which was specially selected as the University for monastic colleges, the Benedictines founded Gloucester House, now Worcester College, so early as 1283. This college had a library, on the south side of the chapel, which was built and stocked with books at the sole charge of John Whethamstede, Abbat of S. Albans[284]--whose work in connexion with the library of that House has been already recorded[285]. Durham College, maintained by the Benedictines of Durham, was supplied with books from the mother-house, lists of which have been preserved[286]; and subsequently a library was built there to contain the collection bequeathed in 1345 by Richard de Bury (Bishop of Durham 1333-45)[287]. Lastly, Leland tells us that at Canterbury College in the same University the whole furniture of the library (_tota bibliothecæ supellex_) was transferred from the House of Christ Church, Canterbury[288]. It is, I submit, quite inconceivable that the fittings supplied to these libraries could have been different from those commonly used in the monasteries of S. Albans, Durham, and Canterbury. Further, it should be noted that the erection of a library proper was an afterthought in many of the older colleges, as it had been in the monasteries. For instance, at Merton College, Oxford, founded 1264, the library was not begun till 1377; at University College, founded 1280, in 1440; at Balliol College, founded 1282, in 1431; at Oriel College, founded 1324, in 1444; at Pembroke College, Cambridge, founded 1347, in 1452. William of Wykeham, who founded New College, Oxford, in 1380, was the first to include a library in his quadrangle; and, after the example had been set by him, the plan of every subsequent college includes a library of sufficient dimensions to last till the Reformation, if not till the present day. The above dates, covering as they do at least two-thirds of the fifteenth century, shew that the collegiate libraries were being built at the same time as the monastic. This coincidence of date, taken in conjunction with the coincidences in enactment which I have already pointed out, seems to me to supply an additional argument in support of my theory that the internal fittings of collegiate and monastic libraries would be identical. Besides, no forms are so persistent as those of pieces of furniture. A workman, once instructed to make a thing in a particular way, carries out his instructions to the letter, and transmits them to his descendants. Before we consider what these fittings were, I will briefly deal with some other questions affecting collegiate libraries, as, for instance, their size, position, and general arrangement. And first, as regards the number of books to be accommodated. It happens, unfortunately, that very few catalogues have been preserved of the libraries referred to in the above statutes; but, if we may estimate the extent of the remainder from those of which we have some account, we shall see that the number of volumes contained in a collegiate library must have been extremely small. For instance, the catalogue[289] appended to Bishop Bateman's statutes, dated 1350, enumerates eighty-four volumes, classed under the following subjects, in two divisions[290], viz. those presented to the College for the immediate use of the Fellows (_A_); and those reserved for the Bishop's own use during his life (_B_): _A_ _B_ Books on Civil Law 7 3 Books on Canon Law 19 13 Books on Theology 3 25 Books for the Chapel 7 7 -- -- 36 48 At King's Hall, in 1394, eighty-seven volumes only are enumerated[291]; and even in the University Library not more than 122 volumes were recorded in 1424[292]. They were distributed as follows: [Books on General Theology][293] 54 Books on Scholastic Theology (_Theologia disputata_) 15 Books on Moral Philosophy 5 Books on Natural Philosophy 12 Books on Medicine (_medicinalis philosophia_) 5 Books on Logic 1 Books on Poetry 0 _Libri sophisticales_ 1 Books on Grammar 6 Books on History (_Libri cronicales_) 0 Books on Canon Law 23 ---- Total 122 The catalogue of the Library of Queens' College, dated 1472, enumerates one hundred and ninety-nine volumes[294]; the second catalogue of the University Library, dated 1473, three hundred and thirty volumes[295]; an early catalogue of the library of S. Catharine's Hall, one hundred and four volumes, of which eighty-five were given by the Founder[296]; and a catalogue of the old library of King's College, dated 1453, one hundred and seventy-four volumes. In these catalogues the books are not directly classed under heads, but arranged roughly, according to subject, in their respective cases[297]. At Peterhouse in 1418 we find a somewhat larger collection, namely, three hundred and eighty volumes, divided among seventeen subjects. The general heading of the catalogue[298] states that it contains "all the books belonging to the house of S. Peter in Cambridge, both those which are chained in the library, those which are divided among the Fellows, and those of which some are intended to be sold, while certain others are laid up in chests within the aforesaid house." This language shews that by the time the catalogue was made the collection had been divided into books for the use of the Fellows (_libri distribuendi_) and books chained in the library (_libri cathenati in libraria_); in other words, into a lending library and a library of reference. We are not told how this division had been made, or at what time; but it is evident that by 1418 it had become permanent, and no longer depended on the tastes or studies of the Fellows. There was one set of books for them to select from, and another for them to refer to; but the two were quite distinct[299]. In the next place I will analyse the catalogue in order to shew what subjects were represented, and how many volumes there were in each. And first of the contents of the library of reference: Libri theologie cathenati 61 Isti sunt libri Naturalis Philosophie cathenati in librario 26 Libri Metaphisice 3 " Moralis Philosophie 5 " Astronomie 13 " Alkenemie 1 " Arsmetrice 1 " Musice 1 " Geometrie 1 " Rethorice 1 " Logice 5 " Gramatice 6 " Poetrie cathenati 4 " De Cronicis cathenati 4 " Medicine cathenati 15 " Iuris Ciuilis cathenati 9 " Iuris Canonici cathenati 18 Ex dono ducis exonie 1 " M. Joh. Sauage 2 Libros subscriptos donavit Mag. Edm. Kyrketon 7 " contulit M. W. Lichfeld 2 Ex dono M. W. Redyct 4 Libros subscriptos contulit M. Joh. Fayre 3 " contulit M. Will. More 13 " " M. John Ledes 14 ---- 220 The books that were to be divided among the Fellows are classed as follows: Libri theologie assignati sociis 63 " Philosophie Naturalis Metaphisice et Moralis diuisi inter socios 19 " Logice diuisi inter socios 15 " Poetrie et Gramatice assignati sociis 13 " Medicine 3 " Iuris Ciuilis diusi inter socios 20 " " Canonici diuidendi inter socios 19 " empti ad usum ... sociorum collegii cum pecuniis eiusdem collegii 8 ---- 160 In framing these tables I have included among the _Libri cathenati_ those specially presented to the College, 46 in number; but I have not attempted to sort them according to subject. I have also assumed that any book or books representing a given class, if not represented in the lending library, as Astronomy, Arithmetic, Music, etc., would be chained for reference. The number of this class, 220, if added to the 160 of the other class, gives the required total, 380. In addition to these tables it will be interesting to construct a third, containing the subject and number of the books represented in both collections: Chained Lent Theology 61 63 Natural Philosophy 26 } Metaphysics 3 } 19 Moral Philosophy 5 } Logic 5 15 Grammar 6 } } 13 Poetry 4 } Medicine 15 3 Civil Law 9 20 Canon Law 18 19 ---------------- 152 152 The subjects of the books included in this latter table represent, in a very clear and interesting way, the studies pursued at Peterhouse in the 14th and 15th centuries. It is prescribed by the statutes, dated 1344, that the scholars are to study Arts, Aristotelian Philosophy, or Theology; but that they are to apply themselves to the course in Arts until, in the judgment of the Master and Fellows, or at least of the larger and wiser portion of that body, they are sufficiently instructed to proceed to the study of Theology[300]. Two may study Civil Law or Canon Law, but no more at the same time; and one may study Medicine[301]. For both these lines of study special leave is required. The course of Arts comprised Grammar, Logic, Aristotle, Arithmetic, Music, Geometry, and Astronomy. In the first of these, including Poetry, the lending library contained more volumes than the reference library; in Logic it had three times as many; in Philosophy (Aristotle and his commentators) it was well supplied; but, on the other hand, Music, Geometry and Astronomy were wholly wanting. Theology is represented by 63 volumes as against 61 in the reference library; Civil Law by 20 volumes against 9 in the reference library; and Canon Law by 19 against 18. In Medicine, however, there were only 3 against 15. By a curious coincidence the number of volumes in the two collections dealing with the subjects represented in both is the same. The subject most in request, as might have been expected, was Theology. Next to this come Civil Law and Canon Law. Medicine was evidently unpopular. I have no explanation to offer for the curious fact that Arithmetic, Music, Geometry, and Rhetoric are represented by only a single volume apiece in the library of reference[302]. These examples, which there is no reason to regard as exceptional, are sufficient to shew that an ordinary chamber would be large enough to contain all the volumes possessed by a college, even after some of the more generally useful books of reference had been chained to desks for the resort of students. It has been already shewn that what Professor Willis calls "a real library--that is to say, a room expressly contrived for the purpose of containing books[303]"--was not introduced into the plan of colleges for more than a century after their first foundation. He points out that such rooms can be at once recognised by their equidistant windows, which do not, as a rule, differ from those of the ordinary chambers, except that they are separated by much smaller intervals. Examples of this arrangement are still to be seen at S. John's College, Jesus College, and Queens' College, Cambridge; but perhaps the most characteristic specimen of all is that which was built over the Hall at Pembroke College in the same University, by Laurence Booth (Master 1450-1480), the aspect of which has been preserved in Loggan's print, here reproduced (fig. 48)[304]. [Illustration: Fig. 48. Pembroke College, Cambridge, reduced from Loggan's print, taken about 1688. A, Chapel; B, Library; C, Hall; D, Master's Lodge; E, Kitchen; F, Master's Garden; G, Fellows' Garden.] The upper chamber (_solarium_) which Thomas Cobham (Bishop of Worcester 1317-27) began to build over the old Congregation House on the north side of S. Mary's Church, Oxford, about 1320, for the reception of the books which he intended to present to the University, is the earliest of these libraries in existence. It still retains on the south side part of a range of equidistant single-light windows of the simplest character, which, as just stated, mark the destination of the apartment. This room is about forty-five feet long by eighteen feet broad, and, in its original state, had probably seven single-light windows on each side, and a window of two lights at the east end[305] (fig. 49). A long controversy between the University and Oriel College rendered the benefaction useless for more than forty years; and it was not until 1367 that the University passed a statute directing that Bishop Cobham's books are to be chained, in proper order; and that the Scholars who wish to use them are to have free access to them at convenient hours (_temporibus opportunis_). Lastly, certain volumes, of greater value, are to be sold, to the value of forty pounds, or more, if a larger sum can be obtained for them, for the purpose of purchasing an annual rent-charge of sixty shillings, to be paid to a chaplain, who is to pray for the soul of the aforesaid Thomas Cobham, and other benefactors; and who is to take charge of the books given by him and them, and of all other books heretofore given, or hereafter to be given, to the University[306]. The passing of this statute may probably be regarded as the first institution of the office of University Librarian. Notwithstanding this statute, however, the University did not obtain peaceful possession of their library until 1410, when the controversy was finally extinguished by the good offices of their Chancellor, Richard Courtenay[307]. [Illustration: Fig. 49. Long Section of Old Congregation House and Library, Oxford, looking south. From _The Church of S. Mary the Virgin, Oxford_, by T. G. Jackson, Architect.] As a type of a collegiate library I will select the old library of Queens' College, Cambridge. This room, on the first floor of the north side of the quadrangle, forms part of the buildings erected in 1448. It is 44 ft. long by 20 ft. wide (fig. 50), and is lighted by eleven windows, each of two lights, six of which are in the south wall and five in the north wall. The windows in the south wall have lost their cusps, but they are retained in those in the north wall--and the library has in all points suffered less from modern interference than almost any other with which I am acquainted. The bookcases have been altered and patched more than once, in order to provide additional shelf-room; but at the bottom of the more modern superstructure part at least of the original medieval desk may be detected. If this fragment be carefully examined it will be found that there is on the inside of each end of the bookcase a groove which evidently once supported a desk 6 ft. 6 in. long, and of a height convenient for a seated reader to use[308] (fig. 51). The books lay on their sides on this desk, to which they were chained in a way that I shall explain directly, and a bench for the reader was placed between each pair of desks. In the plan (fig. 50) I have added the half-desk which once stood against the west wall; and I have lettered all the desks according to the catalogue made in 1472 by Andrew Docket, the first President. [Illustration: Fig. 50. Ground-plan of the Library at Queens' College, Cambridge.] [Illustration: Fig. 51. Elevation of book-desk in Library of Queens' College, Cambridge.][309] It should be carefully noted, when studying this plan, that the distance between each pair of windows is not more than 2 feet, and that the end of the desk covers the whole of this space. If this fact be borne in mind when examining libraries that are now fitted up in a different way, it becomes possible to detect what the original method was. I propose to name this system of fittings the lectern-system; and I shall shew, as we proceed, that it was adopted, with various modifications, in England, France, Holland, Germany and Italy. Fortunately, one example of such fittings still exists, at Zutphen in Holland, which I visited in April, 1894. Shortly afterwards I wrote the following description of what is probably a unique survival of an ancient fashion[310]. The library in which these fittings occur is attached to the church of SS. Peter and Walburga, the principal church of the town. A library of some kind is said to have existed there from very early times[311]; but the place where the books were kept is not known. In 1555 a suggestion was made that it would be well to get together a really good collection of books for the use of the public. The first stone of the present building was laid in 1561, and it was completed in 1563. The author of the _Theatrum Urbium Belgicæ_, John Blaeu, whose work was completed in 1649, describes it as "the public library poorly furnished with books, but being daily increased by the liberality of the Senate and Deputies[312]." The room is built against the south choir-aisle of the church, out of which a door opens into it. In consequence of this position the shape is irregular, for the church is apsidal, and the choir-aisle is continued round part of the apse. It is about 60 feet long, by 26 feet broad at the west end. In the centre are four octagonal columns on square bases, supporting a plain quadripartite vault. The room is thus divided longitudinally into two aisles, with a small irregular space at the east end. The diagrammatic ground-plan, here subjoined (fig. 52), will help to make this description clear. It makes no pretensions to accuracy, having been drawn from notes only[313]. [Illustration: Fig. 52. Ground-plan of the Library at Zutphen.] There are two windows, each of three lights, at the west end of the room, and four similar windows on the south side, one to each bay. There is a fifth window, now blocked, at the south-east corner. Some of these windows contain fragments of richly coloured stained glass--among which the figure of a large green parrot is conspicuous; but whether these fragments were brought from the church, or are part of the glass originally supplied to the library, there is no evidence to shew. Most of these windows are partially blocked, having been damaged, it is said, in one of the numerous sieges from which Zutphen has suffered. The position of the church, close to the fortifications, as Blaeu's bird's-eye view shews, makes this story probable. The floor is paved with red tiles. The general appearance of the room will be understood from the view of the north aisle reduced from a photograph (fig. 53)[314]. [Illustration: Fig. 53. General view of the north side of the Library attached to the church of S. Walburga at Zutphen.] [Illustration: Fig. 54. Desk and reader on the south side of the Library at Zutphen. From a photograph.] [Illustration: Fig. 55. Elevation of (A) one of the bookcases in the Library at Zutphen: (B) one of those in the Library at Queens' College, Cambridge[315].] There are eighteen bookcases, or desks; namely, ten on the south side of the room, and eight on the north side (fig. 52). The material is oak; the workmanship very rude and rough. I will describe those on the south side first. Each is 9 feet long by 5 feet 5¼ inches high, measured from the floor to the top of the finial on the end; and the lower edge of the desk on which the books lie is 2 feet 6¼ inches above the floor; but the general plan, and the relative dimensions of the different parts, will be best understood from the photograph of a single desk at which a reader is seated (fig. 54), and from the elevation of one of the ends (fig. 55, A), beside which I have placed the elevation of one of the desks at Queens' College (B). The photograph shews that in fixing the height of the desk above the ground the convenience of readers has been carefully considered. The iron bar that carries the chains is locked into the ornamental upright, passes through a staple in the middle of the desk, and into the upright at the opposite end, which is left plain. This bar is half an inch in diameter, and one inch above the level of the top of the desk. It is prevented from bending by passing through a staple fixed in the centre of the desk. A piece of ornamental iron-work is fixed to the upright. It is made to represent a lock, but is in reality a mere plate of metal, and the tongue, which looks as though it were intended to move, is only an ornament, and is pierced by the keyhole. The lock is sunk in the thickness of the wood, behind this plate, and the bar, which terminates in a knob, is provided with two nicks, into which the bolts of the lock are shot when the key is turned (fig. 56). Between each pair of desks there is a seat for the reader. [Illustration: Fig. 56. End of iron bar, Zutphen.] [Illustration: Fig. 57. End of one of the desks on the north side of the Library, Zutphen.] The desks on the north side of the room differ slightly from those on the south side. They are rather larger, the ends are of a different shape and devoid of ornament (fig. 57), and there is a wider interval between the bar and the top of the desk. It seems to me probable that the more highly ornamented desks are those which were put in when the room was first fitted up, and that the others were added from time to time as new books had to be accommodated. The books are attached to the desk by the following process. A chain was taken about 12 inches long, more or less, consisting of long narrow links of hammered iron. These links exactly resemble, both in shape and size, those of a chain which may still be seen in the library of the Grammar School at Guildford, Surrey[316]. This chain, of which a piece is here figured (fig. 58), was probably made in 1586, or only 23 years after the building of the library at Zutphen. It terminates, like those at Zutphen (fig. 59), in a swivel (to prevent entanglement), attached to the ring which is strung upon the bar. The attachment of the chain to the book was effected by means of a piece of metal bent round so as to form a loop through which the last link of the chain was passed. The ends of the loop, flattened out, were attached by nail or rivet to the edge of the stout wooden board which formed the side of the book. This mode of attachment will be best seen in the volume which I figure next (fig. 60)--a collection of sermons printed at Nuremberg in 1487. It is believed to have once belonged to a Dominican House at Bamberg, in the library of which it was chained[317]. [Illustration: Fig. 58. Piece of chain, shewing the ring attached to the bar, the swivel, and one of the links, actual size. Guildford.] The iron loop in this specimen (fig. 60) is fastened to what I call the right-hand board of the book; by which I mean the board which is to the right hand of a reader when the book lies open before him; but the selection of the right-hand or the left-hand board depended on individual taste. Further the mode of attachment is never the same in two examples. The iron and rivets are often clumsy, and do considerable damage to the leaves, by forcing them out of shape and staining them with rust. In this method of chaining no provision is made for removing any book from the desk when not wanted, and placing it on a shelf beneath the desk, as was done in some Italian modifications of the system. Each volume must lie on the desk, attached by its chain, like a Bible on a church-lectern. The smallest number of volumes on any desk at Zutphen is six; the largest, eleven; the total, 316. Most of those on the south side of the room were printed during the first half of the sixteenth century; those on the north side are much later, some as late as 1630. I did not see any manuscripts. [Illustration: Fig. 59. Piece of the iron bar, with chain, Zutphen.] [Illustration: Fig. 60. Chained book, from a Dominican House at Bamberg, South Germany.] If we now reconsider the indications preserved at Queens' College, it will, I feel sure, be recognised that the desks at Zutphen explain them, and enable us to realise the aspect of what I conceive to have been the most ancient method of fitting up a collegiate or a monastic library. When such a room first became necessary in a monastery, and furniture suitable for it was debated, a lectern would surely suggest itself, as being used in the numerous daily services, and proving itself singularly convenient for the support of books while they were being read. Another example of such fittings was once to be seen at Pembroke College, Cambridge, in the library above the hall (fig. 48). In Dr Matthew Wren's account of that library already quoted there is a passage which may be translated as follows: I would have you know that in the year 1617 the Library was completely altered and made to assume an entirely new appearance. This alteration was rendered necessary by the serious damage which, to our great sorrow, we found the books had suffered--a damage which was increasing daily--partly from the sloping form of the desks, partly from the inconvenient weight of the chains (_tum ex declivi pluteorum fabricâ, tum ex ineptâ mole catenarum_)[318]. These desks were copied at S. John's College in the same University. A contract dated 20 June, 1516, provides that the contractor shall make all the Desks in the Library wythin the said college of good and substanciall and abyll Tymber of Oke mete and convenient for the same Library, aftir and accordyng to the Library within ... Pembroke Hall[319]. The Library here referred to was on the first floor to the south of the Great Gate of the college. It is now divided into chambers, but its original extent can be readily made out by its range of equidistant windows. The wall-spaces dividing these are 28½ inches wide, practically the same as those at Queens' College. At Peterhouse also a similar arrangement seems to have subsisted when the catalogue of 1418 was made. The very first book, a Bible, is said to stand "in the sixth lectern on the west side (_lectrino 6^o ex parte occidentali_)." The word _lectrinum_ is unusual, but it emphasizes the form of the desk more clearly than any other. [Illustration: Fig. 61 Single desk in the old Library, Lincoln Cathedral.] A splendid example of this type of case is to be seen at Lincoln (fig. 61), where three "stalls" or desks, belonging to the old library already described[320], are still preserved. Each is about 7 ft. long, 3 ft. broad, and 4 ft. 4 in. high to the top of the sloping portion. At each end, and in the centre, is a massive molded standard, 7 ft. 2 in. high, terminating in a boldly carved finial; and these three standards are connected together by a band of open-work, of a design similar to that of the cornice of the library. Half way between this band and the top of the desk is the bar to carry the chains, now of wood, but formerly of course of iron; and below this again is a shelf 18 in. wide, projecting slightly beyond the sloping portion of the desk. The edge of the desk is protected by a ledge, as usual, and under it is a second shelf extending the whole width of the piece of furniture. What was the use of these shelves? As the bar is above the desk, not below it, the books must have reposed, as a general rule, upon the desk, instead of being laid on their sides on the shelf below it when not wanted by a reader. The chains would not have been long enough to allow of any other arrangement. I think, therefore, that the lower shelf must have been a constructional contrivance, to assist in keeping the standards in their places. The narrow upper shelf, on the other hand, was probably intended for the convenience of the reader. He might place on it, temporarily, any book that he was not using, and which got in his way while he was reading one of those beside it; or, if he was making extracts, he might set his inkstand upon it. These desks evidently stood in the old library against the shafts of the roof, for one of the ends has been hollowed out in each to receive the shaft; and the finial, which is left plain on that side, is bent over slightly, to admit it under the brace (fig. 39). As I have now described three varieties of the lectern-system, I will place before my readers, side by side, elevations of each of the three (fig. 62) drawn to the same scale. It will be seen that they resemble each other exactly in essentials. The differences observable are accidental, and may be referred to individual taste. That this form of desk was recognised on the continent as typical of library-fittings is proved by its appearance in a French translation of the first book of the _Consolation of Philosophy_ of Boethius, which I had the good fortune to find in the British Museum[321] (fig. 63). This manuscript was written in Flanders towards the end of the fifteenth century. In such a work the library shewn requires what I may term generalised fittings. An eccentric peculiarity would have been quite inadmissible. [Illustration: Fig. 62. Elevation of (A) one of the bookcases in the Library at Zutphen; (B) one of those in the Library at Queens' College, Cambridge; (C) one of those in the Library of Lincoln Cathedral.] In the Stadtbibliothek of Nuremberg some of the oldest works on jurisprudence still preserve their chains. Each has a short chain about 12 in. long fixed on the upper edge of the left-hand board. The title is written on the middle of the upper edge of the right-hand board. It is obvious that these volumes must have lain on a desk with their titles uppermost[322]. [Illustration: Fig. 63. Interior of a Library. From a MS. of a French translation of the first book of the _Consolation of Philosophy_ by Boethius: written in Flanders towards the end of the fifteenth century.] [Illustration: Fig. 64. Library of the Collège de Navarre, Paris, now destroyed.] It is probable that similar fittings were used in the library of the Sorbonne, Paris, which was first established in 1289, with books chained for the common convenience of the Fellows (_in communem sociorum utilitatem_)[323]. This library was divided into two separate collections, which formed, so to speak, two distinct libraries. The first, called the great library, or the common library, contained the books most frequently studied. They were chained, and could only be taken out under the most exceptional circumstances. A statute, dated 1321, the provisions of which recall the collegiate statutes summarised above, directed that the best book the society possessed on each subject should be thus chained. The second division of the library, called the small library, contained duplicates, books rarely consulted, and generally all those of which the loan was authorised under certain conditions[324]. The following description of this library has been given by Claude Héméré (Librarian 1638-43) in his MS. history. This I proceed to translate: The old library was contained under one roof. It was firmly and solidly built, and was 120 feet long by 36 feet broad.... Each side was pierced with 19 windows of equal size, that plenty of daylight both from the east and the west (for this was the direction of the room) might fall upon the desks, and fill the whole length and breadth of the library. There were 28 desks, marked with the letters of the alphabet, five feet high, and so arranged that they were separated by a moderate interval. They were loaded with books, all of which were chained, that no sacrilegious hand might [carry them off. These chains were attached to the right-hand board of every book] so that they might be readily thrown aside, and reading not be interfered with. Moreover the volumes could be opened and shut without difficulty. A reader who sat down in the space between two desks, as they rose to a height of five feet as I said above, neither saw nor disturbed any one else who might be reading or writing in another place by talking or by any other interruption, unless the other student wished it, or paid attention to any question that might be put to him. It was required, by the ancient rules of the library, that reading, writing, and handling of books should go forward in complete silence[325]. This description indicates desks similar to those of Zutphen. Even the height is the same. A library which vividly recalls the above account, with 19 windows on one side and probably the same number on the other, was built in 1506 for the Collège de Navarre, Paris, now the École Polytechnique[326]. My illustration (fig. 64) is from a photograph taken shortly before its destruction in 1867. I have calculated that it was about 108 ft. long by 30 ft. wide. The library of the Collège d'Autun, Paris, was similarly arranged. An inventory taken 29 July, 1462, records: "dix bancs doubles, à se seoir d'une part et d'autre, et ung poupitre; esquelz bancs et poupitre out esté trouvez enchaisnez les livres qui s'ensuyvent, qui sont intitulez sur la couverture d'iceulx[327]." The catalogue enumerates 174 volumes, or rather more than 17 for each "banc" or lectern. The expression _bancs doubles_ is interesting, as it seems to imply that there were at that time libraries in which _bancs simples_ were used; that is to say, lecterns with only one sloping surface instead of two. A study of the catalogue drawn up in 1513 for the Augustinian House of S. Victor, Paris, by Claude de Grandrue, one of the monks, shews that the same system must have been in use there. Further, his catalogue is an excellent specimen of the pains taken in a large monastery to describe the books accurately, and to provide ready access to them. A brief prefatory note informs us that the desks are arranged in three rows, and marked with a triple series of letters. The first row is marked A, B, C, etc.; the second AA, BB, etc.; the third AAA, BBB, etc. To each of these letters are appended the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4 and so on, to shew the position of the required volume. For instance--to take one at random--_Abælardi confessio_ is marked P. 13: that is, it is the thirteenth book on the desk in the first row marked P. When the catalogue proper--in which each manuscript is carefully described--was finished, the author increased its usefulness by the composition of an alphabetical index[328]. How, I shall be asked, can the form of the bookcase or desk (_pulpitum_) be inferred from this catalogue? I reply: In the first place, because there are no shelf-marks. The librarian notes the letter of the desk, and the place of each book on it, but nothing more. Secondly, because the number of manuscripts accommodated on each desk is so small. There are 50 desks, and 988 manuscripts--or, an average of little more than 19 to each. At Zutphen the average is exactly 18. This piece of evidence, however, is so important that I will give it in detail. The following table, compiled by myself from the catalogue, gives the letters used to mark the desks, and the number of manuscripts on each. A 13 | AA 13 | AAA 15 B 21 | BB 16 | BBB 16 C 13 | CC 19 | CCC 17 D 18 | DD 18 | DDD 19 E 17 | EE 21 | EEE 17 F 20 | FF 17 | FFF 29 G 18 | GG 18 | GGG 24 H 16 | HH 17 | HHH 29 I 16 | II 23 | III 25 K 17 | KK 21 | KKK 29 L 22 | LL 21 | LLL 23 M 21 | MM 20 | MMM 26 N 18 | NN 20 | ---- O 14 | OO 13 | 269 P 19 | PP 23 | Q 22 | QQ 27 | R 14 | RR 26 | S 14 | SS 28 | T 21 | TT 24 | ----| ----| 334 | 385 | These totals give a general total of 988 manuscripts, which, divided by 50, makes the average number for each desk, as stated above, 19·76. Further, my theory is supported by the positive evidence of a description of this library (unfortunately without date) quoted by M. Delisle: "Les livres estoient couchez et enchaisnez, sur de longs pupitres, et une allée entre deux[329]." It is obvious that the English system of placing each lectern between a pair of windows could not have been maintained here. At Queens' College, Cambridge, the catalogue, dated 1472, enumerates 192 volumes, divided over 10 desks and 4 half-desks, each called a step (_gradus_). There were (avoiding fractions) 8 books on each half-desk, and 15 on each complete desk; so that by comparing the plan (fig. 50) and elevation of a desk (fig. 51) with the views of the library at Zutphen, a good idea of a college library in the fifteenth century can be obtained. Before I leave the lectern-system, I will describe two eccentric specimens of it. The first is still to be seen at Trinity Hall, Cambridge; the second once existed at the University of Leyden. [Illustration: Fig. 66. Elevation of a book-desk and seat in the Library of Trinity Hall, Cambridge.] [Illustration: Fig. 65. General view of the Library at Trinity Hall, Cambridge.] [Illustration: Fig. 68. A French Library of 1480. From MS. 164 in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge.] The library of Trinity Hall is thoroughly medieval in plan, being a long narrow room on the first floor of the north side of the second court, 65 feet long by 20 feet wide, with eight equidistant windows in each side-wall, and a window of four lights in the western gable. It was built about 1600, but the fittings are even later, having been added between 1626 and 1645 during the mastership of Thomas Eden, LL.D. They are therefore a deliberate return to ancient forms at a time when a different type had been adopted elsewhere. There are five desks and six seats on each side of the room, placed, as usual, at right angles to the side-walls, in the inter spaces of the windows, and in front of the windows, respectively. Their arrangement, and the details of their construction, will be understood from the general view (fig. 65), and from the elevation (fig. 66). These lecterns are of oak, 6 feet 7 inches long, and 7 feet high, measured to the top of the ornamental finial. There is a sloping desk at the top, beneath which is a single shelf (fig. 66, A). The bar for the chains passes under the desk, through the two vertical ends of the case. At the end farthest from the wall, the hasp of the lock is hinged to the bar and secured by two keys (fig. 67). Beneath the shelf there is at either end a slip of wood (fig. 66, B), which indicates that there was once a moveable desk which could be pulled out when required. The reader could therefore consult his convenience, and work either sitting or standing (fig. 65). For both these positions the heights are very suitable, and at the bottom of the case was a plinth (fig. 66, C), on which he could set his feet. The seats between each pair of desks were of course put up at the same time as the desks themselves. They shew an advance in comfort, being divided into two, so as to allow support to the reader's back. [Illustration: Fig. 67. Lock at end of book-desk. Trinity Hall.] Similar desks occur in a beautiful miniature (fig. 68) from a manuscript (now in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge[330]) written in France about 1480. They appear to be solid--possibly fitted with cupboards for books under the sloping portion. No seats are shewn, and, as a reader is standing between them consulting a book, it may be concluded that they could only be used by students in that position. Lastly, I reproduce (fig. 69) a print by Jan Cornelis Woudanus, shewing the library of the University of Leyden in 1610[331]. The bookcases were evidently contrived with the view of getting the largest number possible into the room. Each contained a single row of books, chained to a bar in front of the shelf; and, also for the purpose of saving the space usually occupied by a seat, readers were obliged to consult them standing. There are eleven bookcases on each side of the room, each containing from 40 to 48 volumes. At the end of the room are two cupboards, probably for manuscripts; and to the right of the spectator is a third press, marked _Legatum Josephi Scaligeri_. He died in January, 1609. Further, as an illustration of the usual appliances for study found in libraries at this period, and often mentioned in catalogues and account-books, I would draw attention to the globes and maps. I present these bookcases at this point of my researches with some diffidence, for they can hardly be said to represent the lectern-system. On the other hand, they do not exactly represent any other; and I therefore submit that they may be looked at here, as transitional specimens, bridging over the interval between the desks we have lately been considering, and those which we shall have to consider in the next chapter. [Illustration: Fig. 69. The interior of the Library of the University of Leyden. From a print by Jan Cornelis Woudanus, dated 1610.] FOOTNOTES: [258] The Statutes of the Colleges of Oxford and Cambridge bearing on the care of books have been thoroughly analysed by Professor Willis in his essay on "The Library," _Arch. Hist._ III. pp. 387-471, which I edited and completed. I have therefore not thought it necessary to acknowledge each quotation separately, but I wish it to be understood that this section of my present book is to a great extent borrowed from him. [259] Wood, _History and Antiquities of the University of Oxford_, ed. Gutch, 4to. Oxford, 1796, Vol. II. Part 2, p. 910. [260] _Commiss. Docts._ (Oxford), Vol. 1. Statutes of Merton College, Cap. 2, p. 24. [261] _Sketch of the Life of Walter de Merton_, by Edmund [Hobhouse], Bishop of Nelson, New Zealand, 8vo. Oxford, 1859, p. 39. [262] _Annals of University College_, by Wm. Smith, 8vo. 1728, pp. 37-39. I have compared Mr Smith's version with the Statute as printed by Anstey, _Munimenta Academica_, I. 58, 59, and have made a few corrections. [263] _Commiss. Docts._ (Oxford), Vol. I. Statutes of Oriel College, p. 14. [264] _Ibid._ p. 22. [265] _Commiss. Docts._ (Cambridge), II. 38. De omnibus libris Domus, Munimentis, et Chartis custodiendis. [266] _Ibid._ p. 17. De Duobus Decanis et eorum officio. [267] _Commiss. Docts._ (Cambridge), II. 44. Statutum de libris Collegii. [268] _Commiss. Docts._ (Cambridge), II. 432. De libris Collegii. [269] The words are "in libraria communi ... ad sociorum communem usum continue remanere." [270] _Commiss. Docts._ (Oxford), Vol. I. Statutes of New College, p. 97. De libris collegii conservandis et non alienandis. [271] _Commiss. Docts._ (Oxford), Vol. I. Statutes of All Souls' College, p. 54. De custodia bonorum ad capellam pertinentium. [272] _Ibid._ Vol. II. Statutes of Magdalen College, p. 60. De custodia librorum, ornamentorum, jocalium, et aliorum bonorum collegii. [273] _Ibid._ Statutes of Corpus Christi College, p. 89. De custodia bonorum Collegii. [274] This passage is quoted in a short account of Pembroke College Library, drawn up by Matthew Wren, D.D., while Fellow, as the preface to a volume dated 1617, in which he recorded the names, of those who had presented books to the Library. The words at the end of the statute are: "sub cautione idonea custodi librorum exposita sine fraude." [275] The history of Merton College has been most admirably written, in Mr Robinson's series of College histories, by my friend Bernard W. Henderson, M.A., Fellow and Librarian. His researches have thrown a new light on the library, and especially on the date of the fittings. My most cordial thanks are due to him, to the Warden and to the Bursar, for their kindness in allowing me access to the library, and also to all the documents referring to it. [276] _Reg. Vet._ fol. 7 b. Vicesimo quarto die Octobris celebrata erat eleccio librorum philosophie inter philosophicos collegii socios. Undecimo die mensis Novembris celebrata erat eleccio librorum theologie in domo custodis inter Theologos collegii socios. [277] _Ibid._ fol. 110. 18^o. die eiusdem mensis [Marcii] fuit eleccio librorum logicalium in Alta Aula. [278] _Ibid._ fol. 125 b. [279] _Reg. Vet._ fol. 118. [280] The words are: "qui quidem liber jacuit pro caucione alterius libri decretorum collegii." [281] _Ibid._ fol. 121. [282] _Ibid._ fol. 100 b. [283] See above, p. 71. [284] Dugdale, _Mon. Angl._ IV. 403-406. [285] See above, p. 108. [286] _Cat. Vet. Libr. Eccl. Cath. Dunelm._ ed. Surtees Soc. pp. 39-41. [287] Wood, _History etc._, Vol. II. p. 910. [288] Leland, _Comm. de Script. Brit._ ch. 131. I owe this important quotation to the kindness of Dr James. [289] Printed in the _Camb. Antiq. Soc. Comm._, Vol. II. p. 73. [290] The headings of the two lists are as follows: "Libri per nos de presenti dicto nostro Collegio dati et in dicto Collegio ex nunc ad Sociorum communem usum perpetuo remansuri." "Libri vero de presenti per nos dicto collegio dati, quorum usum nobis pro vitæ nostræ tempore quamdiu nobis placuerit duximus reservandum, immediate inferius describuntur." [291] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. II. p. 442. History of Trinity College. [292] _Collected Papers of Henry Bradshaw_, 8vo. Camb., 1889, pp. 19-34. [293] No heading to the first division of the list is given in the catalogue. [294] _Camb. Ant. Soc. Comm._, Vol. II. p. 165. [295] _Ibid._ Vol. II. p. 258. [296] _Camb. Ant. Soc. Quarto Publ._, No. I. This catalogue represents the state of the library at the end of the fifteenth century, for it contains the books given by Richard Nelson, who founded a Fellowship in 1503, and probably gave his books at the same time, "sub ea condicione quod semper remanerent cum tribus sociis." [297] From my additions to the essay on "The Library," by Professor Willis, p. 404. [298] This catalogue, written at the beginning of the old parchment Register of the College, has been printed by Dr James in his _Catalogue of the MSS. in the Library of Peterhouse_, 8vo. Camb., 1899. pp. 3-26. [299] From my additions to the essay on "The Library," by Professor Willis, p. 402. [300] _Commiss. Docts._ (Cambridge), Vol. I. p. 21. Stat. 24. [301] _Ibid._ p. 22. [302] This analysis of the catalogue of Peterhouse Library is borrowed from the Introduction which I had the pleasure of contributing to my friend Dr James' _Catalogue_. [303] _Arch. Hist._, The Library, p. 404. [304] _Arch. Hist._, vol. I., p. 138. [305] I have to thank my friend Mr T. G. Jackson, architect, for kindly lending me this section of Bishop Cobham's library. For his history of the building, see his _Church of St Mary the Virgin, Oxford_, 4to. 1897, pp. 90-106. With regard to the number of windows he notes (p. 102): There would have been eight, two to a bay, were it not that the tower buttresses occupy half the western bay. [306] Anstey, _Mun. Acad._ I. 227. [307] Jackson, _ut supra_, p. 98. [308] The total height of this desk-end is 66 in.; from the ground to the beginning of the groove 31 in.; each slit is 19 in. long. [309] For scale see fig. 62, p. 163. [310] _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ Vol. VIII. pp. 379-388, 7 May, 1894. [311] The existing Library is still called the New Library. [312] _Novum ac Magnum Theatrum Urbium Belgicæ_, fol. Amsterdam, 1649, s. v. Zutphania. For these historical facts I have to thank my friend Mr Gimberg, _Archivarius_ at Zutphen. [313] I have to thank Mr T. D. Atkinson, architect, for drawing this plan. [314] I have again to thank Mr Gimberg for this photograph. It was a work of no small difficulty owing to the imperfect light. [315] For scale see fig. 62, p. 163. [316] I have described this library in _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ Vol. VIII. pp. 11-18. [317] This book is now in the University Library, Cambridge. [318] _Arch. Hist._, The Library, III. 429. It is obvious that these heavy chains must have been attached to the lower edge of one of the boards, and that the bar must have been below the desk and not above it. See above, p. 139. [319] _Arch. Hist._ II. 244. [320] See above, pp. 117-121. [321] MSS. Harl. 4335. The picture hanging on the wall represents Philosophy offering her consolation to a sick man. [322] For this information I have to thank my friend, Bernard W. Henderson, M.A., Fellow of Merton College, Oxford. [323] Delisle, _Cabinet des manuscrits_, II. 186, _note_. [324] This account is, in the main, a translation of that given by M. Delisle, _ut supra_. [325] Bibl. Nat. Par. MSS. Lat. 5493. For the history of this library see Delisle, _ut supra_, pp. 142-208; Franklin, _Anciennes Bibliothèques de Paris_, I. pp. 221-317. [326] Franklin, _ut supra_, vol. I. p. 399. [327] Franklin, _Bibliothèques de Paris_, II. 70. [328] Delisle, _ut supra_, II. 228-231; Franklin, _ut supra_, I. 135-185. The catalogue of Claude de Grandrue is in the Bibliothèque Nationale, fonds latin, No. 14767; the alphabetical index in the Bibliothèque Mazarine, No. 1358. [329] Delisle, p. 228, _note_. [330] The MS. (No. 164) is by Frère Jehan de Castel. [331] This reproduction is from a copy of the print now in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. It also occurs on a reduced scale in _Les Arts au Moyen Age et à l'Epoque de la Renaissance_ par Paul Lacroix, 4^o. Paris, 1869, p. 492; and in _Illustrium Hollandiae et Westfrisiae Ordinum_ etc. 4^o. Lugd. Bat., 1614. CHAPTER V. RECAPITULATION. INVENTION OF THE STALL-SYSTEM. LIBRARY OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, OXFORD, TAKEN AS A TYPE. SYSTEM OF CHAINING IN HEREFORD CATHEDRAL. LIBRARIES OF MERTON COLLEGE, OXFORD, AND CLARE COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. THE STALL-SYSTEM COPIED AT WESTMINSTER ABBEY, WELLS, AND DURHAM CATHEDRALS. THIS SYSTEM POSSIBLY MONASTIC. LIBRARIES AT CANTERBURY, DOVER PRIORY, CLAIRVAUX. If the evidence brought forward in the last chapter be accepted, the Library which a Monastery or College built in the fifteenth century was a long narrow room lighted by rows of equidistant windows. Occasionally, if neighbouring buildings allowed, there was a window at the end of the room also. The fittings were lecterns of wood. On these the books were laid, each volume being fastened by a chain to a bar usually placed over the desk, but occasionally, in all probability, in front of it or beneath it. The readers sat on benches immoveably fixed opposite to each window. It is obvious that reading was convenient enough so long as the students were few, but if they were numerous and the books chained too closely together much annoyance must have been caused. When the University of Oxford petitioned Humphrey Duke of Gloucester in 1444 to help them to build a new library, they specially dwelt upon the obstacles to study arising from the overcrowded condition of the old room. "Should any student," they said, "be poring over a single volume, as often happens, he keeps three or four others away on account of the books being chained so closely together[332]." Further, the lectern-system was so wasteful in the matter of space, that, as books accumulated, some other piece of furniture had to be devised to contain them. The desk could not be dispensed with so long as books were chained; and it therefore occurred to an ingenious carpenter that the required conditions would be fulfilled if the two halves of the desk were separated, not by a few inches, but by a considerable interval, or broad shelf, with one or more shelves fixed above it. Thus a case was arrived at containing four shelves at least, two to each side of the case, which could be made as long as the width of the library permitted. I propose to call this system "the stall-system," from the word _staulum_ (sometimes written _stalla_, _stallus_, or _stallum_), which is frequently applied to a case for books in a medieval library. There are at least five fine examples of this system at Oxford--none, I am sorry to say, at Cambridge. There was a set at Clare College, supplied to the old Library about 1627, but they have since been altered by the removal of the desks. Those at Oxford are at Corpus Christi College (1517), S. John's College (1596), Sir Thomas Bodley's library (1598), Merton College (1623), Jesus College (1677-79), Magdalen College (of uncertain date). As a type of this system I shall take the library of Corpus Christi College, founded in 1516 by Richard Fox, Bishop of Winchester. The library was ready for the fittings by the end of March in the following year, as we learn from a building account preserved by Hearne: 8 Henry VIII. This boke made from the xvth day off March unto the xxxti day off the same Moneth [30 March, 1517]. Md. couenauntyd and agreid wyth Comell Clerke, for the makyng off the dextis in the liberary, to the summe off xvi, after the maner and forme as they be in Magdaleyn college, except the popie heedes off the seites, thes to be workmanly wrowght and clenly, and he to have all maner off stooff foond hym, and to have for the makyng off on dexte xs the sum off the hole viii. li.[333] [Illustration: Fig. 70. Bookcases and seat in the Library at Corpus Christi College, Oxford. From a photograph taken in 1894.] The arrangement and appearance of these most interesting cases will be understood from the general view (fig. 70) and from the elevation (fig. 71), but I shall proceed to describe them with some minuteness. [Illustration: Fig. 71. Elevation of one bookcase in the Library of Corpus Christi College, Oxford.] The library occupies the first floor of the south side of the quadrangle opposite to the entrance. It is 79 feet 6 inches long, by 21 feet broad, with ten equidistant windows, about 3 feet 6 inches apart, on each side. At the west end there is an inner library, occupying the angle between the south and west sides of the quadrangle. On each side there are nine bookcases, each 8 ft. 6 in. high, 2 ft. wide, and 7 ft. 6 in. long, divided by partitions into three compartments. I have carefully studied these cases on several occasions, and it seems to me that the only alterations introduced since the original construction are: (1) the addition of about two feet to the upper portion of the case in order to provide additional shelf-room; (2) a slight change in the arrangements of the desk for the reader; and (3) the addition of the catalogue frame, which by its style is evidently Jacobean, to the end next the central alley. Originally each case had two shelves only, one on the level of the desk (Fig. 71, G, H), and the second about half-way between it and the original top of the case (_ibid._ E, F). Before chaining fell into disuse the cases were heightened so as to provide an additional shelf (_ibid._ C, D). At present the number has been further increased by the addition of a fourth shelf above the desk (_ibid._ A, B), and two below it (_ibid._ I, K, L, M). The desks have been altered by a change in the position of the bracket, and by the suppression of the slit through which the chains usually passed, as I shall explain below. The system of chaining used for the lectern-system required modification and extension to suit this new arrangement of shelves. At Corpus Christi College most of the iron-work remains (fig. 70); but it is necessary to go elsewhere to find chained books actually in use. Of such chaining I know no better example than the Chapter Library in Hereford Cathedral, from a study of which I will describe the system, and shew that it is the same as that employed at Corpus Christi College and elsewhere. The Chapter Library at Hereford was originally over the west cloister, and there is evidence that it was being fitted up in 1394, when Walter de Rammesbury, B.D., gave £10 for the desks[334]. The original building has long since been destroyed, and the books were transferred from one place to another until the present beautiful structure was built on the old site in 1897. [Illustration: Fig. 73. Part of a bookcase in the Chapter Library, Hereford.] Throughout these changes some very ancient bookcases have been preserved. They have been taken to pieces and altered several times, but are probably, in the main, those put up in 1394. Above all, one of them possesses, in thorough working order, the system of chaining, parts of which are to be met with on the cases at Oxford which we have been considering. Of the accompanying illustrations the first (fig. 72) gives a general view of the most complete case, that which now contains the manuscripts, and the second (fig. 73) shews one compartment of the same case with the books, chains, desk etc. This case is 9 ft. 8 in. long, 2 ft. 2 in. wide and 8 ft. high, exclusive of the cornice. The material is unplaned oak, very rough; the ends are 2-3 in. thick, made of three planks fastened together with strong wooden pegs. The desk has been a good deal altered, and is now inconveniently low, but, as the books were chained, it is evident that there must always have been desks on each case, and moreover the hook which held them up is still to be seen in several places. The frames to contain the catalogue, which closely resemble those at Oxford, are known to have been added in the 17th century by Thomas Thornton, D.D., Canon Residentiary. [Illustration: Fig. 72. Bookcase in the Chapter Library, Hereford Cathedral. [Illustration: Fig. 74. Part of a single volume, shewing the clasp, the ring for the chain, and the mode of attaching it: Hereford.] From a sketch taken in 1876.] [Illustration: Fig. 75. A single volume, standing on the shelf, with the chain attached to the iron bar: Hereford.] [Illustration: Fig. 76. Iron bar and socket, closed to prevent removal of the bar: Hereford.] As the books were to stand upright on a shelf, not to lie on their sides on a desk, it was necessary to attach the chain in a different manner. A narrow strip of flat brass was passed round the left-hand board (fig. 74) and riveted to it, in such a manner as to leave a loop in front of the edge of the board, wide enough to admit an iron ring, an inch and a quarter in diameter, to which one end of the chain was fastened. The book is placed on the shelf with the fore-edge turned outwards, and the other end of the chain is fastened to a second ring, rather larger than the former, which plays along an iron bar (fig. 75). For the two upper shelves these bars, which are ½ in. in diameter, are supported in front of the shelf, at such a distance from it as to allow of easy play for the rings (fig. 73). Each bar extends only from partition to partition, so that three bars are needed for each shelf. For the lowest shelf there are also three bars, set two inches behind the edge of the shelf, so as to keep the rings and chains out of the way of the desk. The bars for the upper shelves rest in iron sockets screwed to the woodwork at the juncture of the horizontal shelves with the vertical divisions and ends respectively. The socket fixed to the end of the bookcase which was intended to stand against the wall is closed by an iron plate (fig. 76), so that the bar cannot pass beyond it. At the opposite end, that which would usually face the alley between the two rows of bookcases, the bars are secured by lock and key in the following manner. A piece of flat iron is nailed to the end of the bookcase, just above the level of the uppermost shelf (fig. 77). Attached to this by a hinge is a hasp, or band of iron, two inches wide, and rather longer than the interval between the two shelves. Opposite to each shelf this iron band expands into a semicircular plate, to which a cap is riveted for the reception of the head of the socket in which the bar rests (fig. 77); and just below the middle shelf it drops into a lock and is secured by a key (fig. 73). A second hasp, similarly constructed, secures the lowest of the three bars; but, as that bar is behind, and not in front of, the shelf to which it belongs, the arrangements described above are reversed. One lock and key serves for the ironwork belonging to the three shelves. [Illustration: Fig. 77. Iron bar, with part of the iron plate or hasp which is secured by the lock and keeps the bar in place: Hereford.] The chains are made of links of hammered iron as shewn in the sketch (fig. 78) which represents a piece of one of the actual size. There is usually a swivel in the centre, probably to prevent twisting. They vary somewhat in length, and in the length of the links, according to the shelf on which the books to which they belong are ranged, it being obviously necessary to provide for the convenient placing of a book on the desk when a reader wished to consult it. The most usual dimensions are 3 ft. 4 in., 3 ft. 6 in., 4 ft. 3 in. The removal of any of the volumes, or the addition of a new one, must have been a tedious and inconvenient operation. The bar would have to be withdrawn, and all the rings set free. Moreover, if this change had to be effected in one of the compartments remote from the end of the case which carried the lock, the bar belonging to each of the other compartments would have to be withdrawn before the required volume could be reached. [Illustration: Fig. 78. Piece of chain, shewing the swivel: Hereford. Actual size.] If the views (figs. 70, 71) of the book-cases at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, be attentively examined, it will be seen that the ironwork exactly resembles that at Hereford. We find similar sockets to contain the bars at the junction of the horizontal shelves and vertical uprights, and a similar system of iron hasps to prevent the bars from being withdrawn. The desk for the reader would of course vary according to individual taste. As a general rule it was attached to the ends of the case by strong hinges, so that it could be turned up and got out of the way when any alteration in the ironwork had to be carried out. Iron hooks to hold it up were not unfrequently provided. One of these, from the Bodleian Library, is here figured (fig. 79). It was also usual to provide a slit in this desk, about 2 in. wide, as close as possible to the shelf, for the chain attached to the book in use to pass through. This is well shewn in the view of a single book-case in Merton College, Oxford (fig. 83). I will next describe the library of Merton College, Oxford. There is still considerable doubt respecting the date of some of the bookcases, but the appearance of the library is so venerable, so unlike any similar room with which I am acquainted, that it must always command admiration, and deserve study[335]. [Illustration: Fig. 80. Exterior of the Library at Merton College, Oxford, as seen from 'Mob Quadrangle.' From a photograph by H. W. Taunt, 1899.] The library occupies the whole of the first floor of the south side of "Mob Quadrangle" and the greater part of the same floor of the west side (fig. 80). It is entered through a doorway in the south-western angle of the court, whence a staircase leads up to the vestibule (fig. 81). This room is separated from the two divisions of the library by lofty oak screens, elaborately carved and ornamented in the style of the early renaissance. [Illustration: Fig. 79. Hook to hold up the desk. Bodleian Library, Oxford.] The two rooms into which the library is divided have a uniform width of 20 ft. 6 in. The west room, called by tradition Old Library, is 38 ft. 6 in. long (A, B, fig. 81); the south room, or New Library, is 56 ft. 6 in. long (C, D, fig. 81). The west room is lighted by seven equidistant lancet windows in each of the west and east walls, and by two dormer windows of peculiar design on the side of the roof next to the court. The south room is similarly lighted by ten lancets in each of the north and south walls, and on the side next to the court by two dormer windows like those in the west room. This room moreover has an open space at the east end, about 10 ft. long, lighted by a window of two lights in each of the north and south walls respectively, and by an oriel of five lights in the east wall. In both rooms there is a waggon-roof of five cants boarded, and divided into panels by molded ribs with little bosses at the intersections (fig. 82). The blank wall at the north end of the west room is panelled with oak of an elaborate and beautiful design for a height of about 12 ft. (fig. 82). The space above this is decorated with panels of plaster-work. The large square central panel contains the arms of the college; the circular panel to the west those of John Whitgift (Archbishop of Canterbury 1583-1604); and the similar panel to the east those of Sir Henry Savile (Warden 1585-1621). [Illustration: Fig. 81. Ground-plan of the Library at Merton College, Oxford.] The east end of the south room is similarly treated, but the oak panelling is less elaborate. In the plaster-work above it the arms of the college are flanked on the north by those of George Abbot (Archbishop of Canterbury 1611-1633) and on the south by those of Sir Nathaniel Brent (Warden 1621-1651). [Illustration: Fig. 82. Interior of the west Library at Merton College, Oxford. From a photograph by H. W. Taunt, 1899.] [Illustration: Fig. 83. Bookcase in the west Library of Merton College, Oxford. From a photograph by H. W. Taunt, 1899.] Both rooms are floored with rough oak planking. On this are laid four sleepers, each about 5 in. square, parallel with the side-walls. The two central sleepers have their outside edge roughly chamfered. Into these the bookcases and the seats are morticed. The central alley, 5 ft. wide, is in both rooms paved with encaustic tiles. In the west room there are twelve complete cases and four half-cases; in the south room there are twenty complete cases and two half-cases (fig. 81); in both rooms arranged in the usual manner with respect to the walls and windows. In order to present as vivid an idea as possible of these beautiful cases, I reproduce here a photograph of a single compartment from the west library, with a seated reader at work (fig. 83). The case is made to look rather higher than it really is, but this distortion can be easily corrected by comparing the height of the standard with that of the seated figure. In the west room each case (figs. 82, 83) is 7 ft. 5 in. long, 1 ft. 5 in. wide and 6 ft. high from the top of the sleeper to the top of the cornice. The material is oak. The ends are nearly 2 in. thick, and next the wall are shaped roughly with an adze. Each case is separated into two divisions by a central partition; and originally there was a desk 1 ft. 3 in. wide on each side of the case. These desks were immoveable, and nailed to rough brackets. There were two shelves only to each case: one just above the level of the desk, and a second about half-way between it and the cornice (fig. 84). The system of ironwork by which the books were secured can be easily recovered by studying the scars on the ends of the cases next the central alley. At the lower end of the standard, two feet from the ground, was an iron bar which carried the chains of all the books which stood on the shelf just above the level of the desk, without reference to the side from which they were to be consulted. This bar was secured by a separate hasp and lock. The bars for the upper shelf, one on each side of the case, were obviously secured by a system similar to that described above at Hereford and Corpus Christi College. The whole system has been indicated on the elevation (fig. 84), which should be compared with the reproduction of one of the cases in the west room (fig. 83). Originally no books stood below the desk. The comfort of readers was considered by the insertion of a bar of wood to rest the feet on, between the seat and the bookcase (fig. 84). [Illustration: Fig. 84. Elevation of a bookcase and seat in the West Library at Merton College, Oxford. Measured and drawn by T. D. Atkinson, Architect.] In the south room the cases are on the same general plan as in the west room; but the system of chaining appears to have been slightly different, and to have approximated more closely to what I may call the Hereford type. In both rooms each case has a picturesque enrichment at the end of the standard above the cornice, and a small oblong frame just below it to contain the general title of the books within the case. The west room is devoted to LIBRI ARTIUM, with the exception of the three cases and the half-case at the north end of the east side, which are marked CODICES MSS. These are protected by latticed doors of wood. In the south room the cases on the south side are all lettered L. THEOLOGIAE; on the north side the first three are lettered L. MEDICINAE; the next L. MEDIC. IURISPP. and the last five L. IURIS PRVDENTIÆ. In this room the last cases at the east end on each side have latticed doors like those on the corresponding cases in the west room. The building of this library is recorded in four separate account-rolls extending from the beginning of the first year of Richard II. to the third year of the same king, that is from 1377 to 1379. From these documents it appears that the building cost £462. 1_s._ 11½_d._ From this first construction to the beginning of the sixteenth century--a space of 125 years--the accounts furnish us with no information; but, from what we learn afterwards, it would appear that the internal walls were unplastered, that the roof-timbers were unprotected, and that the only light was admitted through the narrow lancet windows. In 1502-3 the panel-work (_celatura_) on the roof of the west library was put up at a cost of £27. 6_s._ 0_d._ The account contains also a charge for painting the bosses (_nodi_) at the intersection of the moldings that separate the panels. Mr Henderson points out that these ornaments prove the existing ceiling to be that put up in 1503; for among them are the Tudor Rose, the dolphin of Fitzjames (Warden 1483-1507). and the Royal Arms used from Henry IV. to Elizabeth, but altered by James I. After this another long interval occurs during which no work done to the library is recorded; but in 1623 the south room was taken in hand, and the changes introduced into it were so extensive that it is referred to in the accounts as New Library (_Nova Bibliotheca_) a name which it still retains. In the first place the room at the east end (fig. 81) was thrown into it, and the oriel window constructed, together with the two large dormers on the side next the court (fig. 80). These works, by which light was so largely increased, prove how gloomy the library must have been before they were undertaken. Next, after important repairs to the walls and floor, and the construction of the decorative plaster-work at the east end, the old bookcases were sold, and Benet the joiner supplied twenty new cases and one half-case. The only old case remaining is, by tradition, the half-case against the screen on the north side as one enters from the vestibule. It is therefore certain that the cases and seats in the south room date from 1623. It is unfortunately equally certain that we know nothing about the date of those in the west room; and we are therefore unable to say whether the cases in the south room were copied from them in 1623, or whether the reverse process took place at some unknown date. If we adopt the pleasing theory that in the west room we have very early cases, constructed possibly when the library was built, we must still admit that these relics of a remote past have been altered at some subsequent period, so as to be brought into conformity with the cases in the south room; for the cornices and the frames for the titles are precisely similar in the two rooms. The difference between the two sets of cases in the method of chaining, to which attention has been already drawn, may bear on the question of date. As time went on chaining would be modified in the direction of simplicity; and to replace a single central bar by two lateral ones is a step towards this, for under such conditions the addition or removal of a book would entail less displacement. Further, it must be recognised that these cases, whether extremely ancient or comparatively modern, differ in many particulars from those to be met with elsewhere. They are lighter, narrower and more elegant. Again, when the ground-plan of the library is considered (fig. 81) it will be seen that their ends occupy nearly the whole space between a pair of windows. In other examples of the stall-system this is not the case. The only explanation I have to offer for the whole difficulty is the following. The library was constructed for the lectern-system, with wall-spaces not more than 2 ft. wide, and was so fitted up. When books had become numerous the western library was taken in hand, and the lecterns altered into stalls, the single central bar being retained. At the same time, in all probability, the dormers were inserted. It is remarkable that these changes should not be recorded in the accounts, but possibly they were carried out as the result of a special benefaction[336]. In 1623 the stalls which had been placed in the west room, having been found convenient, were copied for the south room. I will in the next place briefly notice the distinctive points of the other examples of the stall-system in Oxford. At S. John Baptist's College the library was built in 1596, and we may presume was fitted up soon afterwards, as Wood records numerous donations of books in the years immediately succeeding, and the appointment of a keeper to take charge of them in 1603[337]. This library, on the first floor of the south side of the second quadrangle, is 112 feet long by 26 feet wide, with eight windows of two lights in each wall. The bookcases, of which there are eight on each side between the windows, with a half-case against the west wall, are rather larger than those at Corpus Christi College, being 10 feet high, and 2 feet 6 inches wide. They have a classical cornice and terminal pediment. The titles of the subjects are painted at the tops of the stalls as at Merton College. A few traces of chaining are still to be detected. The desks have not been altered. Each is in two divisions, as at Corpus, separated by a central bracket, and it has the slit to admit the chains. The long iron hinges are evidently original. The seats resemble those at Corpus. The bookcases at Trinity College, set up in 1618, and those at Jesus College, made probably in 1679, call for no special remark. Between 1598 and 1600 Sir Thomas Bodley refitted the library over the Divinity School. This noble room is 86 feet long by 32 feet wide. These dimensions contrast forcibly with those of the long narrow rooms to which we have been accustomed; and it is probably on account of the great width that the 10 windows on each side have two lights apiece. At right angles to these walls, which face north and south, there are nine bookcases on a side with a half-case at each end. Here again we find so close a resemblance to the cases at Corpus Christi College, that a particular description is unnecessary. It should be noted, however, that, as at S. John's College, they had been made of a greater height (8 feet 4 inches) in the first instance, so as to accommodate two shelves above that on the level of the desk. These shelves are proved to be original by the existence, at the juncture of the shelves with the upright divisions, of the plates of iron which originally carried the sockets for the bar. The rest of the ironwork has been removed, and it is difficult to detect traces of its former existence, because modern shelves have been set against the ends of the cases. The hole for the lowest bar, however, remains in the same relative position as at Corpus Christi College; and, as the ironwork for supporting the bars is identical with what still remains there, it seems safe to conclude that no new principle was introduced. The desks are modern, but the large and ornamental brackets which support them are original, and the iron hooks (fig. 79) still remain by which they were prevented from falling when turned up. The position of these hooks shews that each desk was 19 inches broad. There were originally seats between each pair of cases, as may be seen in Loggan's view of the interior of the library, where their ends are distinctly shewn. A special feature of this room is the beautiful open roof, practically that which Sir Thomas Bodley put up in 1599. The principals and tie-beams are ornamented with arabesques, while the flat surface between them is divided into square compartments on which are painted the arms of the University. On the bosses that intervene between these compartments are the arms of Bodley himself. I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter that the stall-system had been represented in the library at Clare College, Cambridge. The old library was a long narrow room over the old chapel, and we know on the authority of William Cole[338] that it was "fitted up with wainscote Classes on both sides." These "classes" had been put up shortly before 1627, when the Duke of Buckingham, then Chancellor of the University, was taken to see them. When this library was pulled down in 1763 they were removed to the new library which had been fitted up 20 years previously, and ranged round the room in front of the modern shelves. They are splendid specimens of carpentry-work, and bear so close a resemblance to the cases in the library of S. John's College, that it may be assumed that they were copied from them[339]. When the removal took place they were a good deal altered, and a few years ago some fragments which had not been utilised were found in a lumber-closet. One of the standards (fig. 85), with its brackets, shews that the cases were once fitted with desks, the removal of which was ingeniously concealed by the insertion of slips of wood in the style of the older work[340]. I have not been able to discover any traces of chaining, but as there are a number of seats in the library, very like those in Corpus Christi College, Oxford, it is more than probable that chains were once employed. [Illustration: Fig. 85. Stall-end in the Library of Clare College, Cambridge.] The stall-system was not only popular in Oxford itself, but was adopted as a standard for bookcases, and reproduced elsewhere. The first example I will cite is at Westminster Abbey[341], where part of the dorter was fitted up as a library during the years 1623 and 1624 by John Williams, Bishop of Lincoln and afterwards Archbishop of York, who was dean of Westminster from 1620 to his death in 1650. In the flowery rhetoric of his biographer Bishop Hacket: With the same Generosity and strong propension of mind to enlarge the Boundaries of Learning, he converted a wast Room, scituate in the East side of the Cloysters, into _Plato's_ Portico, into a goodly Library; model'd it into decent shape, furnished it with Desks and Chains, accoutred it with all Utensils, and stored it with a vast Number of Learned Volumes[342]. This library--which has not been materially altered since 1625--occupies the north end of what was once the dorter. It is 60 feet long, by 33 feet 4 inches broad. There are twelve bookcases--evidently the "desks" recorded by Williams' biographer. Each is 10 feet 10 inches long, 2 feet broad, and 8 feet 3 inches high, divided by plain uprights into three compartments. There are three shelves, below which is a desk for the reader, resting on brackets, and provided with the usual slit for the chains to pass through. These desks are hinged. The cases are quite plain, with the exception of a molded cornice; above which, on the end of each, is some scroll-work. There is also a small frame to contain the catalogue. It is probable that there were originally seats for readers between each pair of cases. I cannot discover any certain evidence of chaining, and yet "chains" are distinctly enumerated among the dean's benefactions. There are faint scars at the intersection of some of the shelves and uprights which may be screwholes--but I cannot feel certain on the point. I have already given the plan of the cathedral library at Wells (fig. 42). After the Restoration this building was re-fitted during the episcopate of Robert Creighton (Bishop 1670-1672), with the help of donations from the celebrated Dr Richard Busby, and Dr Ralph Bathurst, who was dean from 1670 to 1704. It is important to remember that Bathurst was also master of Trinity College, Oxford, an office which he retained until his death. As he is described in the MS. List of Benefactors preserved in the library as having taken a foremost part in fitting it up (in _Bibliothecâ hac instaurandâ_ [Greek: ergodiôktês]), the selection of the bookcases may with much probability be ascribed to him. His own college has still bookcases which once must have been excellent specimens of the stall-system. [Illustration: Fig. 87. Bookcases in the Library of Durham Cathedral. From a photograph.] There are eight bookcases at Wells, of plain unpainted deal, projecting from the west wall between the windows (fig. 42). They are 8 ft. 6 in. long, 8 ft. 1 in. high and 3 ft. broad. Seven of them have desks on both sides, but the last--that placed against the partition at the south end, which screens off a small room for a study--has a desk on one side only. There is no shelf below the desk, but two above it. They are fitted with the usual apparatus for chaining. Between each pair of bookcases, in front of the window, is a seat for the reader. These cases resemble so closely those at Corpus Christi College, Oxford, that the source from which they were derived cannot be doubtful. Was this library ever chained? A Walton's Polyglot, 1657, had evidently been prepared for chaining, and in a novel fashion, the plate to carry the chain being attached to the left-hand board close to the back of the volume (fig. 86)--so that it was evidently set on the shelf in the ordinary way, and not with the fore-edge turned to the spectator, as is usual in chained libraries. But with this exception I could not discover indications of the attachment of a plate on any of the volumes. If I am right in concluding that the books in this library were never chained, the cases are a curious instance of the maintenance of fashion. Dean Bathurst ordered a bookcase, and it was supplied to him with all its fittings complete, whether they were to be used or not. [Illustration: Fig. 86. Ring for attachment of chain, Wells.] My last example is from Durham Cathedral, where John Sudbury, dean from 1661 to 1684, fitted up the ancient Frater as a library. The room is about 115 feet long by 30 feet wide, with nine windows in each side-wall. Their sills are ten feet from the ground. The cases (fig. 87) are evidently the work of a carpenter who was thoroughly conversant with the stall-system. They had originally two shelves only above the desk, the entablature, now visible on the ends only, being carried along the sides. The shelf below the desk is also modern. These cases are ten feet apart, and between each pair, instead of a reader's seat, is a dwarf bookcase terminating in a desk. Attached to it on each side is a seat conveniently placed for a reader to use the desk on the side of the principal case. I have shewn that the stall-system made its appearance at Oxford early in the sixteenth century, but I have not been able to discover who introduced it. My own impression is that it was monastic in its origin; and I can prove that it fits at least two monastic libraries exactly. This theory will also explain the prevalence of such cases at Oxford, and their almost total absence from Cambridge, where monastic influence was never exercised to the same extent. I will begin with Canterbury, where, as I mentioned above[343], the library was over the Prior's Chapel. The construction of this chapel is described as follows by Professor Willis: Roger de S. Elphege, Prior from 1258 to 1263, completed a chapel between the Dormitory and Infirmary.... The style of its substructure shews that it was begun by his predecessor.... [It] is placed on the south side of the Infirmary cloister, between the Lavatory tower and Infirmary. Its floor was on the level of the upper gallery, and was sustained by an open vaulted ambulatory below. This replaced the portion of the original south alley [of the cloister] which occupied ... that position.... But, as this new substructure was more than twice as broad as the old one, the chapel was obtruded into the small cloister-garth, so as to cover part of the façade of the Infirmary Hall, diminish the already limited area, and destroy the symmetry of its form[344]. Above this chapel Archbishop Chichele built the library which Prior Sellyng fitted up. It stood east and west, and of course must have been of the same size as the chapel beneath it, namely, according to Professor Willis, 62 feet long on the north side, 59 feet long on the south side, and 22 feet broad. The door was probably at the south-west corner, at the head of a staircase which originally led only to the chapel beneath it. From these measurements I have constructed a plan of the room (fig. 88), and of the bookcases which I am about to describe. The windows are of course imaginary, but, I submit, justified by the uniform practice of medieval libraries. [Illustration: Fig. 88. Conjectural plan of the Library over the Prior's Chapel at Christ Church, Canterbury.] I am able to reconstruct this library because I have had the good fortune to come across a very curious document[345] which gives sufficient data for the purpose. It is contained in a MS. volume, now the property of the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury, composed of several quires of paper stitched into a parchment cover. They once belonged to, and were probably written by, Brother William Ingram, who was _custos martirii_ in 1503; and in June 1511 was promoted to the office of Pitancer. The accounts and memoranda in the book are of a very miscellaneous character. The part which concerns the library consists of a note of the books which were repaired in 1508. This is headed: Repairs done to the books contained in the library over the chapel of our lord the Prior, namely, in new byndyng and bordyng with covers and claspyng and chenyng, together with sundry books of the gift of the aforesaid Prior, namely, in the year of our Lord 1508, and the year of the reign of King Henry VII., 23[346]. The writer goes round the room, beginning at the west end. He proceeds along the north side, and returns along the south side, to the point whence he started, enumerating on his way the bookcases and their shelves, the volumes removed, and, occasionally, a note of the repairs required. For my present purpose I will content myself with his account of a single bookcase, the first on the list. The writer begins thus: "From the upper shelf on the east side in the first seat (_de superiori textu[347] ex orienti parte in prima_ (sic) _sedile_)." Three volumes are enumerated. "From the lower shelf (_de inferiori textu_)," two volumes. "From the upper shelf on the other side of the same seat (_de superiori textu ex altera parte eiusdem sedilis_)," seven volumes. "From the lower shelf (_de inferiori textu_)," five volumes. In this way eight seats, i.e. bookcases, are gone through on this side of the room. The writer next turns his attention to the south side, and goes through eight more seats, beginning with: "From the east side of the upper shelf on the south side (_de textu superiori ex parte australi incipiendo. In parte orientali_)." The examination was evidently thorough, and, as the same number of seats is enumerated for each side of the room, we may, I think, safely conclude that all were examined, and that the whole number in the library was sixteen. The passages I have quoted shew that each of these bookcases had an upper and lower shelf on each side, on which the books stood, so as to be conveniently consulted by readers on each side; the books were chained; and, in consequence, there must have been a desk, presumably below the shelves on each side; and a seat for the reader. I have embodied these requirements in the accompanying sketch or diagram (fig. 89), which indicates a bookcase of the same type as those at Corpus Christi College, Oxford. If we may suppose that each of these cases was two feet wide and eight feet long like those at Merton College, we can accommodate eight cases on each side of the room (fig. 88), with the same interval between each pair as at that college. [Illustration: Fig. 89. Sketch of the probable appearance of a bookcase, and a reader's seat, in the Library at Christ Church, Canterbury.] Let us now consider whether the library as thus arranged would have had sufficient shelf-room. Each bookcase being 8 feet long would contain 32 feet of shelving, and the 16 cases a total of 512 feet. The catalogue made in the time of Prior Henry of Eastry (1285-1331) enumerates 1850 volumes[348]. If we allow two feet and a half for every ten of these we shall require 462½ feet; or in other words we can arrange the whole collection in 14 stalls, leaving 2 over for the additions which must have been made in the interval between the middle of the 14th century and the date of Brother Ingram's researches. If the sketch here given of the probable aspect of the library at Christ Church, Canterbury, be compared with the view of the library at Merton College, Oxford (fig. 82), a fairly correct idea of a great conventual library will be obtained. A very slight effort of imagination is needed to make the necessary changes in the shelves, and to replace academic students by Benedictine monks. Then, if we conceive the shelves to be loaded with manuscripts, many of which were written in the early days of the English Church, we shall be able to realise the feelings of Leland on entering the library at Glastonbury: I had hardly crossed the threshold when the mere sight of books remarkable for their vast antiquity filled me with awe, or I might almost say with bewilderment: so that for a moment I could not move a step forward[349]. I propose in the next place to print a translation of the Introduction to the catalogue[350] of the Benedictine Priory of S. Martin at Dover, which was a cell to Canterbury made in 1389 by John Whytfeld. This catalogue does not indicate the stall-system; in fact I am at a loss to define the precise system which it does indicate. I print it in this place on account of its internal interest, and the evidence which it affords of the care taken in the last quarter of the fourteenth century to make books easily accessible to scholars. The present Register of the Library of the Priory of Dover, compiled in the year of the Lord's Incarnation 1389 under the presidency of John Neunam prior and monk of the said church, is separated into three main divisions. The object is that the first part may supply information to the precentor of the house concerning the number of the books and the complete knowledge of them: that the second part may stir up studious brethren to eager and frequent reading: and that the third part may point out the way to the speedy finding of individual treatises by the scholars. Now although a brief special preface is prefixed to each part to facilitate the understanding of it, to this first part certain general notes are prefixed, to begin with, for the more plain understanding of the whole Register. Be it noted, then, first, that this whole Library is divided into nine several classes (Distinctions), marked according to the nine first letters of the alphabet, which are affixed to the classes themselves, in such a way that A marks out to him who enters the first Class, B the second, C the third, and so on in order. Each of the said nine classes, moreover, will be seen to be divided into seven shelves (grades), which are also marked off by the addition of Roman numeral figures, following the letters which denote the classes. We begin the numbering of the shelves from the bottom, and proceed upwards so that the bottom shelf, which is the first, is marked thus, I; the second thus, II; the third thus, III; and so the numbering goes, on up to seven[351]. In addition to this, the books of the Library are all of them marked on each leaf with Arabic numerals, to facilitate the ascertaining of the contents of the volumes. Now since many of the volumes contain a number of treatises, the names of these treatises, although they have not always been correctly christened, are written down under each volume, and an Arabic numeral is added to each name shewing on what leaf each tract begins. To this number the letter A or B is subjoined, the letter A here denoting the first page of the leaf, and the letter B the second. The books themselves, furthermore, have their class-letters and also their shelf-marks inserted not only outside on their bindings, but also inside, accompanying the tables of contents at the beginning. To such class-letters a small Arabic figure is added which shews clearly what position the book occupies in the order of placing on the shelf concerned. On the second, third, or fourth leaf of the book, or thereabouts, on the lower margin the name of the book is written. Before it are entered the above-mentioned class-letters and shelf-numbers, and after it (a small space intervening) are immediately set down the words with which that leaf begins, which I shall call the proof of investigation (_probatorium cognitionis_). The Arabic figures next following will state how many leaves are contained in the whole volume; and finally another numeral immediately following the last clearly sets forth the number of the tracts contained in the said volume. If then the above facts be securely entrusted to a retentive memory it will be clearly seen in what class, shelf, place and order each book of the whole Library ought to be put, and on what leaf and which side of the leaf the beginnings of the several treatises may be found. For it has been the object of the compiler of this present register [and] of the Library, by setting forth a variety of such marks and notations of classes, shelves, order, pagination, treatises and volumes, to insure for his monastery security from loss in time to come, to shut the door against the spite of such as might wish to despoil or bargain away such a treasure, and to set up a sure bulwark of defence and resistance. And in truth the compiler will not be offended but will honestly love anyone who shall bring this register--which is still faulty in many respects--into better order, even if he should see fit to place his own name at the head of the whole work. In the first part of the register, therefore, we have throughout at the top, between black lines ruled horizontally, first the class-letter, in red, and, following it, the shelf-mark, in black characters (_tetris signaculis_). Then again between other lines ruled in red, vertically: first, on the left a numeral shewing the place of the book in order on its shelf: then the name of the volume: thirdly, the number of the "probatory" leaf; fourthly, the "probatory" words (in the case of which, by the way, reference is made to the text and not to the gloss); fifthly, the number of leaves in the whole volume; and, lastly, the number of the treatises contained in it--all written within the aforesaid lines. In addition there will be left in each shelf of this part, at the end, some vacant space, in which the names of books that may be subsequently acquired can be placed[352]. The meaning of the word "distinction" is the principal difficulty in the way of understanding the above description. I thought at first that it denoted merely difference of subject, and that _gradus_, as in the catalogue of Queens' College, Cambridge, was a side of a lectern. But the statement that the grades are numbered "from the bottom and proceed upwards" can hardly be reconciled with any arrangement of lecterns. _Distinctio_ probably denotes a bookcase or press, divided into 7 grades, and probably placed against the wall, the word _gradus_ here meaning a flat shelf, instead of one set at an angle as in former instances. If this explanation be correct we have here a very early instance of shelves in such a position. My second example of a monastic library fitted up according to the stall-system is the library at Clairvaux. As I have already printed a full description of it[353], I need not do more in this place than translate the passage referring to the fittings: This library is 189 feet long, by 51 feet wide[354]. In it are 48 seats (_bancs_), and in each seat 4 shelves (_poulpitres_) furnished with books on all subjects, but chiefly theology.... The building that contains the said library is magnificent, built of stone, and excellently well lighted on both sides with five large windows, well glazed. As there were so many as 48 bookcases, that is, 24 on each side, the bookcases were evidently spaced without reference to the lateral windows, which were probably raised high above the floor. The catalogue, from which I have already quoted the verses commemorating the building of the library, contains much useful information respecting the arrangement of the books. The verses are succeeded by the following introductory note: Repertorium omnium librorum in hac Clarevallis biblioteca existentium a fratre Mathurino de cangeyo eiusdem loci monacho non sine magno labore editum. Lege Pro intelligentia presentis tabule seu Repertorii, sciendum est quod a parte aquilonari collocantur libri quorum litere capitales nigre sunt, quorum vero rubre a parte australi. Et omnes in ea ordine alphabetico scribuntur. Utriusque autem partis primum analogium per litteram A signatur, secundum per litteram B, tercium per litteram C, quartum per litteram D, quintum per litteram E. Et consequenter cetera analogia per sequentes litteras alphabeticas. Quodlibet autem analogium quatuor habet partes, quarum prima signatur per litteram A, secunda per B, tercia per C, quarta per D. Prime partis primi analogii primus liber signatur per A. a. 1, secundus per A. a. 2, tercius per A. a. 3, et consequenter. Secunde partis primus liber signatur per A. b. 1, secundus per A. b. 2; et de consequentibus similis est ordinatio. Tercie partis primus liber signatur per A. c. 1, secundus per A. c. 2; et consequenter. Quarte partis primus liber signatur per A. d. 1, secundus per A. d. 2; et consequenter. [In this way five "analogia" are enumerated.] Et eadem est disciplina et ordinacio de ceteris analogiis prout habetur in novissimo quaternione eiusdem tabule, immo et in fronte cuiuslibet analogii in tabella eidem appendente. Hanc tabulam seu repertorium scripsit quondam frater Petrus mauray de Arecis oriundus. Vivus vel defunctus requiescat in bona semper pace. Amen. The most important passage in the above note may be thus translated: Read For the right understanding of the present table or method of finding books (_tabule seu repertorii_), you must know that on the north side are ranged those books whereof the capital letters are black; on the south side those whereof the capital letters are red. All are set down in alphabetical order. On each side the first desk (_analogium_) is marked by the letter A; the second by the letter B; [and so forth]. Each desk has four divisions, the first of which is marked by the letter _a_, the second by the letter _b_, the third by the letter _c_, the fourth by the letter _d_. The first book on the first shelf of the first desk is marked A. a. i; the second A. a. ii; [and so forth]. The catalogue as well as the description makes it perfectly clear that each desk, that is to say, each bookcase, had four shelves; and further, as the authors of the _Voyage Littéraire_ (1708) mention chains[355], it may be concluded that there were desks, and seats for readers, between each pair of bookcases. If we place two shelves on each side of the case we get a piece of furniture precisely similar to that in use at Canterbury. FOOTNOTES: [332] Macray, _Annals of the Bodleian Library_, p. 7. The words used are: Jam enim si quis, ut fit, uni libro inhæreat, aliis studere volentibus ad tres vel quatuor pro vicinitate colligationis præcludit accessum. [333] Hearne's _Glastonbury_, ed. 1722, p. 286. [334] _Fasti Herefordenses_, by Rev. F. T. Havergal. 4^o, 1869, p. 181. A Chapter-order dated 16 February, 1589, directed the removal of the books to the Lady Chapel, and the erection of a school on the ground where the Library had once stood. [335] For the historical facts in the following account I am indebted to Mr Henderson's History, to the merits of which I have already drawn attention. I have also made copious extracts from the College account-books. Further, I have carefully studied the library on several occasions, and have had the benefit of the professional assistance of my friend Mr T. D. Atkinson, Architect. [336] In the bursar's accounts for 1605, among other charges for the library, is the following entry: "pro pari cardinum ad sedem in bibliotheca 12d." If I am right in thinking that this refers to the desks for the readers in the west library it proves that the existing cases had been set up before 1605. [337] Wood, _Colleges and Halls_, p. 551. [338] Add. MSS. Mus. Brit. 5803, MSS. Cole, II. 9. [339] _Arch. Hist._ III. 453. [340] I have described these fragments in _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc._, Vol. VIII. p. 18. [341] See my paper in _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._, Vol. IX. p. 37. [342] _Scrinia reserata_: a Memorial ... of John Williams, D.D.... By John Hacket. Fol. Lond. 1693, pp. 46, 47. [343] See above, p. 106. [344] _Arch. Hist. of ... Monastery of Chr. Ch. Cant._ 8vo. 1869, p. 65. This chapel was pulled down at the end of the 17th century and the present library, called the Howley library, built in its place. [345] I have to thank my friend Mr W. H. St John Hope, Assistant Secretary of the Society of Antiquaries, for first drawing my attention to it; and the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury for leave to use it. [346] Reparaciones facte circa libros qui continentur in libraria supra capellam domini prioris videlicet in le new byndyng and bordyng cum coopertoriis and le claspyng and chenyng eciam cum diuersis libris ex dono eiusdem prioris videlicet Anno domini M^o ccccc^o viij^o and Anno Regni Regis henrici vij^o xxiii. [347] This word seems to have been used at Canterbury to denote any piece of joinery. We have already seen it applied to a carrell (p. 99). [348] See above, p. 102. The catalogue has been printed by Edwards, _Memoirs of Libraries_, I. pp. 122-235. [349] Vix certè limen intraveram cum antiquissimorum librorum vel solus conspectus religionem, nescio an stuporem, animo incuteret meo; eâque de causâ, pedem paullulum sistebam. Leland, _De Script. Brit._ ed. Hall, I. 41. [350] This catalogue is in the Bodleian Library (MSS. 920). I am indebted to my friend Dr James for the admirable translation which I here print. [351] The words thus translated are: "Incipiendo graduum computacionem a loco inferiori in altum procedendo videlicet ut gradus infimus qui primus est sic signetur I." [352] Dr James has pointed out (_Camb. Ant. Soc. Oct. Publ._, No. XXXII.) that there are six MSS. from Dover Priory among Archbishop Parker's MSS. at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge. The first of these--a Bible in two volumes--is entered in the catalogue of the Priory as A. 1. 2, 3--that is to say it was in _distinctio_ A, _gradus_ 1, and the volumes stood second and third in the _gradus_. [353] See above, p. 112. [354] The words are: "contient de longueur LXIII passées, et de largeur XVII passées." I have taken one pace=3 feet. [355] _Voyage Littéraire_, ed. 1717, Part I.. p. 102. CHAPTER VI. THE LECTERN-SYSTEM IN ITALY. LIBRARIES AT CESENA, AT THE CONVENT OF S. MARK, FLORENCE, AND AT MONTE OLIVETO. VATICAN LIBRARY OF SIXTUS IV. DUCAL LIBRARY AT URBINO. MEDICEAN LIBRARY, FLORENCE. SYSTEM OF CHAINING THERE USED. CHARACTERISTICS OF MEDIEVAL LIBRARIES. NAMES OF MEDIEVAL BOOKCASES AND BOOKSHELVES. While the "stall-system" was being generally adopted in England and in France, a different plan was being developed in Italy. It consisted in a return to the "lectern-system," with the addition of a shelf below the lectern, on which the books lay on their sides when not wanted; and an ingenious combination of a seat for the reader with the desk and shelf. The earliest library fitted up in this manner that I have been able to discover is at Cesena, a city of north Italy between Forli and Ravenna. It is practically in its original condition. In the fifteenth century Cesena was governed by the powerful family of Malatesta, one of whom, Domenico Malatesta Novello, built the library in 1452, and placed it under the charge of the convent of S. Francesco. Two burghers were associated with the Friars in this duty. The library was always public. It was designed by Matteo Nuzio of Fano, a celebrated architect of the day, as we learn from an inscription originally inserted into the wall on the right of the door of entrance, but now placed inside the library: MATHEVS. NVTIVS. FANENSI EX VRBE. CREATVS. DEDALVS ALTER. OPVS. TANTVM. DEDVXIT. AD VNGVEM. [Illustration: Figs. 90, 91. Ground-plan and section of Library at Cesena.] [Illustration: Fig. 92. General view of the Library at Cesena. From a photograph.] The general plan and arrangement will be readily understood from the ground-plan (fig. 90), and the longitudinal section (fig. 91), copied on a reduced scale from those given by the learned Giuseppe Maria Muccioli, who published a catalogue of the MSS. in the library in 1780[356], and also from the general view of the interior (fig. 92). It is a long narrow building, 133 ft. 4 in. long, by 34 ft. broad[357], standing east and west, so that its windows face north and south. It is on the first floor, being built over some rooms which once belonged to the convent, and is entered at the west end through a lofty marble doorway. Internally it is divided into three aisles, of which the central is the narrowest, by two rows of ten fluted marble columns. Against the side-walls and partly engaged in them, are two rows of similar columns. The aisles are divided by plain quadripartite vaults, resting partly on the central columns, partly on those engaged in the side-walls, into eleven bays, each lighted by two windows (fig. 91). These aisles are about 12 ft. wide. The central aisle, 8 ft. 3 in. wide between the columns, has a plain barrel vault, extending from end to end of the building. The influence of the Renaissance may readily be detected in the ornamentation of the columns, but traces of medieval forms still linger in the room. If the central alley were wider it might be taken for the nave of a basilica. [Illustration: Fig. 93. Bookcases at west end of south side of Library, Cesena.] There are 29 bookcases in each aisle. Between each pair of cases there is a wooden floor, raised 3½ in. above the general level of the room; and there is an interval of 2 ft. 3 in. between the cases and the wall, so that access may be readily obtained to them from either end. The room is paved with unglazed tiles. The westernmost bay is empty (fig. 90), being used as a vestibule, and the first bookcase, if I may be allowed the expression, on each side, is really not a bookcase but a seat (fig. 93)[358]. [Illustration: Fig. 94. Part of a bookcase at Cesena to shew the system of chaining.] The construction of these cases is most ingenious, both as regards convenience and economy of space. If they were designed by the architect who built the room, he must have been a man of no ordinary originality. Each piece of furniture consists of a desk to lay the books on when wanted for use, a shelf for those not immediately required, and a seat for the reader, whose comfort is considered by a gentle slope in the back (fig. 93). At the end next the central alley is a panel containing the heraldic devices of the Malatesta family. The principal dimensions of each case are as follows: Length 10 ft. 2½ in. Height 4 ft. 2¼ in. Width of seat 3 ft. 1 in. Width of foot-rest 11 in. Height 3½ in. Height of seat from ground 1 ft. 10½ in. Width 1 ft. 4 in. Distance from desk to desk 4 ft. 1 in. Angle of slope of desk 45°. The books are still attached to the desks by chains. The bar which carries them is in full view just under the ledge of the desk (fig. 94), inserted into massive iron stanchions nailed to the underside of the desk. There are four of these: one at each end of the desk, and one on each side of the central standard. The bar is locked by means of a hasp attached to the standard in which the lock is sunk. The chains are of a novel form (fig. 95). Each link, about 2¼ in. long, consists of a solid central portion, which looks as though it were cast round a bent wire, the ends of which project beyond the solid part. The chain is attached to the book by an iron hook screwed into the lower edge of the right-hand board near the back. [Illustration: Fig. 95. Piece of a chain, Cesena.] [Illustration: Fig. 96. Chained book at Ghent.] The volume which I figure next (fig. 96), entitled _Lumen animæ seu liber moralitatum_, was printed at Eichstädt in Bavaria, in 1479. M. Ferd. Vander Haeghen, librarian of Ghent, bought it in Hungary a few years since, and gave it to the library which he so ably directs. The chain is just 24 in. long. The links, of which there are ten, are slightly different from any which I have figured, each link being compressed in the middle so that the two sides touch each other. There is no ring, but a link, rather larger than the rest, is passed round the bar. It will be observed that the chain is fastened to the left-hand board, and not to the right-hand board as in Italy. The presence of a title written on parchment kept in place by strips of leather, and five bosses of copper, shew that the left-hand board was uppermost on the desk. The position of the chain shews that when it was attached the book was intended to lie on a desk, where the bar must have been in front of, or below, the desk; but there is also a scar on the upper edge of the right-hand board, which shews that at some previous period it lay on a desk of what I may call the Zutphen type, where the bar was above the sloping surface. With the library at Cesena may be compared that attached to the Dominican Convent of S. Mark at Florence, built in 1441 for Cosmo dei Medici--the first public library in Italy. It is on the first floor, and is approached by a staircase from the cloister. It is 148 ft. long by 34 ft. 6 in. wide[359], divided into three aisles by two rows of eleven columns. The central aisle, 9 ft. wide between the columns, has a plain barrel vault; the side aisles, 11 ft. wide, have quadripartite vaults. In each of the side-walls there are twelve windows. In all these details the library resembles that at Cesena so closely that I cannot help suspecting that Malatesta or his architect may have copied it. The original fittings have been removed, but we learn from the catalogue[360] that the books were originally contained in 64 _banchi_, half of which were on the east side and half on the west side of the room. There was an average of about sixteen books to each _banchus_. The catalogue also mentions a Greek library, which had seven _banchi_ on each side. This was probably a separate room. There is a similar library at the Benedictine Convent of Monte Oliveto, near Siena, but it is on a much smaller scale. Like the others, it is divided into three aisles by two rows of six columns. The central aisle has a barrel vault, and the side aisles quadripartite vaults. It is 85 ft. long by 32 ft. broad. There are seven windows on one side only. At the end of the library, approached by a flight of thirteen stairs, is a room of the same width and 21 ft. long, which may have been used as an inner library. An inscription over the door of entrance records that this library was built in 1516[361]. While discussing the arrangements of Italian libraries, I must not omit that at the Convent of S. Francis at Assisi[362]. The catalogue, dated 1 January, 1381, shews that the library, even at that comparatively early date, was in two divisions: (1) for the use of the brethren; (2) for loans to extraneous persons. This catalogue, after a brief preface stating that it includes "all the books belonging to the library of the Holy Convent of S. Francis at Assisi, whether they be chained, or whether they be not chained," begins as follows: In the first place we make a list of the books which are chained to benches (_banchi_) in the Public Library as follows, and observe that all the leaves of all the books which are in this catalogue, whether they are in quires of 12, 10, 8, or any other number of leaves larger or smaller,--every one of these books contains the denomination of the quires, as appears in the first quire of each book on the lower margin: all the quires being marked at beginning and end in black and red with the figure here shewn, and the number of the quire within it. [Illustration] Moreover, the letters of the alphabet that are placed on the top of the covers ought all to be fairly large and entirely black, as marked below [in this catalogue] at the end of each book[363]. This introduction is succeeded by the list of books. They are chained to nine benches on the west side of a room, and to the same number on the east side. The total is 170. The second part of the catalogue has the following heading: In the name of the Lord, Amen. Here begins the list of all the books which are in the Reserved Library (_libraria secreta_) of the Holy Convent of S. Francis at Assisi, appointed to be lent to prelates, masters, readers, bachelors, and all other brethren in orders, according as the amount of knowledge or line of study of each demands them. This part of the collection is contained in eleven presses (for which the unusual word _solarium_[364] is used) arranged along the east and west walls of a room, but whether the same as the last we are not informed. The number of manuscripts is 530. A considerable number of the manuscripts here registered still exists. They are well taken care of in the Town Hall, and a list of them has been privately printed. Several are in their original condition, bound in boards about a quarter of an inch thick, covered with white leather. The title, written on a strip of parchment, is pasted on the top of the right-hand board. It usually begins with a capital letter in red or black, denoting the desk or press in which a given MS. would be found, thus: F Postilla Magistri Nicolai de lyra super psalmos reponatur uersus orientem in banco vj^o. In the next place I will tell at length the story of the establishment of the Vatican Library by Pope Sixtus IV., as it is both interesting in itself and useful for my present purpose[365]. The real founder of the Vatican Library, as we understand the term, was Nicholas V. (1447-1455), but he was unable to do more than collect books, for which no adequate room was provided till the accession of Sixtus IV. in 1471. In December of that year, only four months after his election, his chamberlain commissioned five architects to quarry and convey to the palace a supply of building-stone "for use in a certain building there to be constructed for library-purposes[366]"; but the scheme for an independent building, as indicated by the terms here employed, was soon abandoned, and nothing was done for rather more than three years. In the beginning of 1475, however, a new impulse was given to the work by the appointment of Bartolommeo Platina as Librarian (28 February)[367]; and from that date until Platina's death in 1481 it went forward without let or hindrance. This distinguished man of letters seems to have enjoyed the full confidence of the Pope, to have been liberally supplied with funds, and to have had a free hand in the employment of craftsmen and artists to furnish and decorate his Library. It is pleasant to be able to record that he lived to see his work completed, and all the books under his charge catalogued. The enumeration of the volumes contained in the different stalls, closets, and coffers, with which the catalogue of 1481 concludes, is headed by a rubric, which records, with pathetic simplicity, the fact that it was drawn up "by Platina, librarian, and Demetrius of Lucca his pupil, keeper, on the 14th day of September, 1481, only eight days before his death[368]." [Illustration: Fig. 98. Ground-plan of the rooms in the Vatican Palace fitted up for library-purposes by Sixtus IV. E. Wilson, Cambridge] It is evident that the Library had suffered considerably from the negligence of those in whose charge it had been. Many volumes were missing, and those that remained were in bad condition. Platina and his master set to work energetically to remedy these defects. The former engaged a binder, and bought materials for his use[369]; the latter issued a Bull (30 June) of exceptional severity[370]. After stating that "certain ecclesiastical and secular persons, having no fear of God before their eyes, have taken sundry volumes in theology and other faculties from the library, which volumes they still presume rashly and maliciously to hide and secretly to detain"; such persons are warned to return the books in question within forty days. If they disobey they are _ipso facto_ excommunicated. If they are clerics they shall be incapable of holding livings, and if laymen, of holding any office. Those who have knowledge of such persons are to inform against them. The effect produced by this document has not been recorded; nor are we told what the extent of the loss was. It could hardly have been very extensive, for a catalogue which Platina prepared, or perhaps only signed, on the day of his election, enumerates 2527 volumes, of which 770 were Greek and 1757 Latin[371]. The number of the latter had more than doubled in the twenty years that had elapsed since the death of Nicholas V., an augmentation due, in all probability, to the activity of Sixtus himself. The place selected to contain this extensive collection was the ground-floor of a building which had been erected by Nicholas V. and subsequently used as a provision store. The position of it, and its relations to neighbouring structures, will be understood from the accompanying plan (fig. 97), which I borrow from M. Fabre's paper. In order to shew how the building was arranged when it was first built, before other structures abutted against it, I have prepared a second plan (fig. 98) drawn from measurements taken by myself. [Illustration: Fig. 97. Ground-plan of part of the Vatican Palace, shewing the building of Nicholas V., as arranged for library purposes by Sixtus IV., and its relation to the surrounding structures. From Letarouilly, _Le Vatican_, fol. Paris, 1882; as reproduced by M. Fabre.] The floor is divided into four rooms by party-walls which are probably older than 1475, but which are proved, by the catalogue of 1481, to have been in existence at that period. The first of these rooms, entered directly from the court, contained the Latin Library; the second, the Greek Library. These two, taken together, formed the Common, or Public, Library (_Bibliotheca communis_, _B. publica_, or merely _Bibliotheca_). Next to this room, or these rooms, was the _Bibliotheca secreta_ or Reserved Library, in which the more precious MSS. were kept apart from the others. The fourth room, which was not fitted up till 1480 or 1481, was called _Bibliotheca pontificia_. In addition to MSS. it contained the papal archives and registers (_Regesta_). In the catalogue dated 1512 it is called _Intima et ultima secretior bibliotheca_, and seems to have contained the most valued treasures. This quadripartite division is commemorated by Aurelio Brandolini (Epigram XII.)[372]. After alluding to the founders of some of the famous libraries of antiquity, he says in conclusion: Bibliotheca fuit, fateor, sua cuique, sed vna. Sixte pater vincis: quatuor vnus habes. Thanks to the care with which Platina set down his expenditure, we are able to follow step by step the gradual transformation of the rooms. His account-books[373], begun 30 June 1475, record, with a minuteness as rare as it is valuable, his transactions with the different artists and workmen whom he thought proper to employ. It was evidently intended that the library should be beautiful as well as useful, and some of the most celebrated artists of the day were set to work upon it. The librarian prudently began in August, 1475, by increasing the light, and a new window was made "on the side next the court." It seems to have been impossible to get either workmen or materials in Rome; both were supplied from a distance. For the windows, glass, lead and solder were brought from Venice, and a German, called simply Hormannus, i.e. Hermann, was hired to glaze them. For the internal decoration two well-known Florentine artists--the brothers Ghirlandajo--were engaged, with Melozzo da Forli, who was painting there in 1477[374]. In 1476 the principal entrance was decorated with special care. Marble was bought for the doorcase, and the door itself was studded with 95 bronze nails, which were gilt, as were also the ring and knocker, and the frame of trellised ironwork (_cancellus_), which hung within the outer door. The building is entered from the _Cortile del Papagallo_[375] through a marble doorway (fig. 98, A) in the classical style surmounted by the arms of Sixtus IV. On the frieze are the words SIXTUS PAPA IIII. The doorcase is doubtless that made in 1476; but the door, with its gilt nails and other adornments, has disappeared. Within the doorway there has been a descent of three steps at least to the floor of the Library[376]. The four rooms of which it was once composed are now used as the _Floreria_ or _Garde-meuble_ of the Vatican Palace; a use to which they have probably been put ever since the new Library was built at the end of the sixteenth century. The Latin Library, into which the door from the court opens directly, is a noble room, 58 ft. 9 in. long, 34 ft. 8 in. wide, and about 16 ft. high to the spring of the vault. In the centre is a square pier, which carries the four plain quadripartite vaults, probably of brick, covered with plaster. The room is at present lighted by two windows (B, C) in the north wall, and by another, of smaller size, above the door of entrance (A). That this latter window was inserted by Sixtus IV., is proved by the presence of his arms above it on a stone shield. This is probably the window "next the court" made in 1475. The windows in the north wall are about 8 ft. high by 5 ft. broad, and their sills are 7 ft. above the floor of the room. Further, there were two windows in the west wall (_b_, _c_) a little smaller than those in the north wall, and placed at a much lower level, only a few feet above the floor. These were blocked when the Torre Borgia was built by Alexander VI. (1492-1503), but their position can still be easily made out. This room must have been admirably lighted in former days. The room next to this, the Greek Library, is 28 ft. broad by 34 ft. 6 in. long. It is lighted by a window (fig. 98, D) in the north wall, of the same size as those of the Latin Library, and by another (_ibid._, E) a good deal smaller, opposite to it. This room was originally entered from the Latin Library by a door close to the north wall (_d_). But, in 1480[377], two large openings (_e_, _f_) were made in the partition-wall, either because the light was found to be deficient, or because it was thought best to throw the two rooms into one as far as possible. At some subsequent date the door (_d_) was blocked up, and the opening next to it (_e_) was carried down to the ground, so as to do duty as a door. The other opening (_f_), about 7 ft. 6 in. square, remains as constructed. The decorative work of the brothers Ghirlandajo can still be made out, at least in part, though time has made sad havoc with it. The edges of the vaulting were made prominent by classical moldings coarsely drawn in a dark colour; and at the key of each vault is a large architectural ornament, or coat of arms, surrounded by a wreath of oak-leaves and acorns, to commemorate the Della Rovere family. They are tied together on each side with long flaunting ribbons, which, with their shadows, extend for a considerable distance over the vaults. The semi-circular lunettes in the upper part of the wall under the vaults are all treated alike, except that those on the sides of the room, being larger than those at the ends (fig. 98), contain two subjects instead of one. The lower part, for about 3 feet in height, is painted to represent a solid marble balcony, behind which a Doctor or Prophet is supposed to be standing. He is visible from rather below the waist upwards, and holds in his hand a scroll bearing an appropriate text. On each side of the figure in the smaller lunettes, resting on the balcony, is a large vase of flowers; and behind it a clear sky. Round the upper edge of the lunette is a broad band of oak-leaves, and fruits of various kinds. The figures, of which there were evidently twelve originally, are the following, beginning with the one at the north-east corner over the door leading into the Greek Library, and proceeding to the right: 1. HIERONYMUS. _Scientiam scripturarum ama, et vitia carnis non amabis._ 2. GREGORIUS. _Dei sapientiam sardonyco et zaphyro non confer._ 3. THOMAS. _Legend illegible._ 4. BONAVENTURA. _Fructus scripturæ est plenitudo æternæ felicitatis._ 5. ARISTOTELES. } } 6. DIOGENES. } } 7. CLEOBULUS. } } _Legends illegible._ 8. ANTISTHENES. } } 9. SOCRATES. } } 10. PLATO. } 11. AUGUSTINUS. _Nihil beatius est quam semper aliquid legere aut scribere._ 12. AMBROSIUS. _Diligentiam circa scripturas sanctorum posui._ Jerome and Gregory occupy the east wall; Thomas Aquinas and Bonaventura the first lunette on the south wall, over the door of entrance; Aristotle and Diogenes the next, succeeded by Cleobulus and Antisthenes on the west wall; on the first lunette on the north wall are Socrates and Plato; in the second Augustine and Ambrose, facing Aquinas and Bonaventura. Thus the eastern half of the library was presided over by doctors of the Christian Church, the western by pagan philosophers. The space on the north wall (_gh_), nearly opposite to the door of entrance, was occupied by the fresco on which Melozzo da Forli was working in 1477. It was intended to commemorate the establishment of the Library in a permanent home by Sixtus the Fourth. The Pope is seated on the right of the spectator. On his right stands his nephew, Cardinal Pietro Riario, and before him, his head turned towards the Pope, to whom he seems to be speaking, another nephew, Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, afterwards Pope Julius the Second. At the feet of the Pope kneels Bartolommeo Platina, the newly appointed Librarian, who is pointing with the forefinger of his right hand to the inscription below the fresco. Behind Platina are two young men with chains of office round their necks. The inscription, said to have been written by Platina himself, is as follows: TEMPLA, DOMUM EXPOSITIS[378], VICOS, FORA, MOENIA, PONTES, VIRGINEAM TRIVII QUOD REPARARIS AQUAM, PRISCA LICET NAUTIS STATUAS DARE MUNERA PORTÛS, ET VATICANUM CINGERE, SIXTE, JUGUM, PLUS TAMEN URBS DEBET; NAM QUÆ SQUALORE LATEBAT CERNITUR IN CELEBRI BIBLIOTHECA LOCO. The fresco is now in the Vatican picture-gallery. It was transferred to canvas soon after 1815, when the present gallery was formed, and has suffered a good deal from what is called restoration[379]. The decoration of the Greek Library is not alluded to in the Accounts[380]; but it is easy to see that the lunettes have been ornamented on the same system as those of the Latin Library, but without figures; for their decoration still exists, though much damaged by time and damp. Below the lunettes the walls are covered with whitewash, under which some decoration is evidently concealed. The whitewash has peeled off in some places, and colour is beginning to make its appearance. The _Bibliotheca secreta_ is 20 ft. wide by 38 ft. 6 in. long. It is lighted by a single window in the north wall (fig. 98, F), of the same size and shape as the rest. The light is sufficient, even under present conditions. The fourth and last room--spoken of in 1480 as "that addition which our Master lately made"--is 29 ft. wide by 40 ft. 6 in. long. It is at present lighted by only a single window in the north wall (fig. 98, G), and is very gloomy. But in former days, before Julius II. (1503-1513) built the _Cortile di San Damaso_, it had another window in the middle of the east wall (_ibid._, H), where there is now a door. Nothing certain can be made out about its decoration. It is much to be regretted that so little is said about the glazing of the windows throughout the Library. Great care was evidently bestowed upon them, and the engagement of foreign artists, with the purchase of glass at Venice, are proofs that something specially beautiful was intended. Coloured glass is mentioned, which may have been used either for coats of arms--and we know that the Papal Arms were to be set up in the _Bibliotheca secreta_--or for subjects. But, in forming conjectures as to the treatment of these windows, it should be remembered that the transmission of light must always have been the first consideration, and that white glass must have preponderated. The rooms for the Librarian and his assistants were in a small building which abutted on the Library at its S.W. corner, and stood between the two courts, obtaining light from each. Over the door of entrance was the inscription: SIXTUS . IIII . PONT . MAX. BIBLIOTECARIO . ET . CVSTODIBVS . LOCVM . ADDIXIT[381]. The accommodation provided was not magnificent, two rooms only being mentioned. A door (fig. 98, _a_), now blocked, gave access to the Library from this building. It is interesting to note, as a proof of the richness of all the work, that it was of inlaid wood (_pino intarsiata_). The work of fitting up this Library occupied about six years. It began in September 1475, and proceeded continuously to January 1477, when Melozzo's fresco was in progress. In December of that year the windows of the _Bibliotheca secreta_ were begun; but during 1478 and 1479 nothing was done. In 1480 work was resumed, and the last payment to painters was made in 1481. Let us now consider how these rooms were fitted up for the reception of books. I will first collect the notices in the Accounts respecting desks, or _banchi_, as they are called, and then compare them with the rooms themselves, and with the descriptions in the catalogues, which are fortunately extremely full; and I think that it will be possible to give a clear and consistent picture of the arrangements. Platina ordered the desks for the Latin Library first, in 1475. This is set down in the following terms: I have counted out, in the presence of Clement, steward of the household of His Holiness our Master, Salvatus the library-keeper (_librarius_), and Demetrius the reader (_lector_), 45 ducats to Francis the carpenter of Milan, now dwelling in the fishmarket of the city of Rome, towards making the desks in the library; and especially ten desks which stand on the left hand, the length of which is 38 palms or thereabouts; and so having received a part of the money, the total of which is 130 ducats, he promises and binds himself to do that which it is his duty to do, this 15th day of July, 1475[382]. The full name of this carpenter is known, from his receipts, to have been Francesco de Gyovane di Boxi da Milano. He received in all 300 ducats instead of the 130 mentioned in the first agreement, and when the last payment was made to him, 7 June, 1476, the following explanatory note is given: Moreover I have paid to the same [Francis the carpenter] 30 ducats for what remains due on 25 desks for the Library: for the longer ones, which are 10 in number, there were paid, as entered above, 130 ducats; for the rest there were paid 170 ducats, making a total of 300 ducats, and so he has been paid in full for all the desks, this 7th day of June, 1476[383]. In 1477 the furniture for the next room, the _Bibliotheca secreta_ or Inner Library, was begun. The work was entrusted to a Florentine, called in the Accounts merely _Magister Joanninus faber lignarius de Florentia_, but identified by M. Fabre with Giovannino dei Dolci, one of the builders of the Sistine chapel. The most important entry referring to him is the following: Master Giovannino, carpenter of Florence, had from me Platyna, librarian of His Holiness our Master, for making the desks in the inner library, for the great press, and the settle, in the said room--all of which were estimated by Master Francis of Milan at one hundred and eighty ducats--he had, as aforesaid, sixty-five ducats and sixty groats on the 7th May, 1477[384]. The last payment on this account was made 18 March, 1478, on which day he also received eight ducats for three frames "to contain the names of the books," and for some repairs to old desks[385]. These frames were painted by one of Melozzo da Forli's workmen[386]. In February, 1481, 12 book-chests were supplied[387]. The desks for the fourth room or _Bibliotheca pontificia_ were ordered in 1480-81. The workmen employed were Giovannino and his brother Marco. Master Giovannino of Florence and Master Marco his brother, a carpenter, received XXV ducats in part payment for the desks which are being made in the library now added by His Holiness our Master, 18 July, 1480[388]. These workmen received 100 ducats up to 7 April, 1481, but the account was not then settled. Up to this period the bookcases had cost the large sum of 580 ducats or, if the value of the ducat be taken at six shillings and sixpence, £188 10_s._ of our money. The purchase of chains began in January 1476[389]. It is worth notice that so simple an article as a chain for a book could not be bought in Rome, but had to be sent for from Milan; where, by the way, the dues exacted by the government made the purchase irksome and costly. The total number of chains bought was 1728, and the total cost 102 ducats, or rather more than £33. The rings were found to be too small, and were altered in Rome. Nothing is said about the place from which the rods came (_ferramenta quibus catenæ innituntur_). In 1477 (14 April) "John the chain-maker (_Joannes fabricator catenarum_)" supplies "48 iron rods on which the books are strung on the seats[390]" and also 48 locks, evidently connected with the same number of rods supplied before. In the same year a key-maker (_magister clavium_) supplies 22 locks for the seats and cupboards in the _Bibliotheca secreta_[391]; and in 1480, when the _Bibliotheca pontficia_ was being fitted up, keys, locks, chains, and other ironwork were supplied by Bernardino, nephew of John of Milan[392]. For further information we must turn to the catalogues. For my present purpose the first of these[393] is that by Platina, of which I have already spoken, dated 14 September, 1481. It is a small folio volume, written on vellum, with gilt edges, and in plain binding that may be original. The first page has a lovely border of an enlaced pattern with the arms of Sixtus IV. in a circle at the bottom. The compiler of the catalogue goes through the library case by case, noting (at least in the Latin Library) the position of the case, the subjects of the books contained in it, and their titles. This is succeeded by an enumeration of the number of volumes, so as to shew, in a couple of pages, how many the whole Library contained. MM. Müntz and Fabre print this enumeration, but, so far as I know, the catalogue itself has not as yet been printed by any one. For my present purpose I shall combine the headings of the catalogue, the subjects, and the number of the volumes, as follows: Inventarium Bibliothecæ Palatinæ Divi Sexti Quarti Pont. Max. [I. LATIN LIBRARY.] Ad sinistram ingredientibus In primo banco. [_Bibles and Commentaries_] 51 In secundo banco. _Hieronymus. Augustinus_ 55 In tertio banco. _Augustinus. Ambrosius. Gregorius_ 47 In quarto banco. _Ioannes Chrysostomus_ 50 In quinto banco. _Thomas_ 47 In sexto banco. _In Theologia. In divino officio_ 54 In septimo banco. _Ius canonicum_ 43 In octauo banco. _Ius canonicum_ 41 In nono banco. _Ius civile_ 42 ----430 In primo banco ad dextram ingredientibus. _Philosophi_ 53 In secundo banco. _Astrologi. In Medicina_ 48 In tertio banco. _Poetæ_ 41 In quarto banco. _Oratores_ 43 In quinto banco. _Historici_ 33 In sexto banco. _Historici ecclesiastici_ 48 In septimo banco. _Grammatici_ 47 ----313 [II. GREEK LIBRARY.] In primo banco Bibliothecæ Grecæ. _Testamentum vetus et novum_ 42 In secundo banco. _Auctores clariores [Fathers]_ 31 In tertio banco. _Auctores clariores_ 46 In quarto banco. _Auctores clariores_ 49 In quinto banco. _Ius civile et canonicum_ 58 In sexto banco. _In Philosophia_ 59 In septimo banco. _Oratores et Rhetores_ 57 In octauo banco. _Historici. Poetæ et Grammatici_ 58 ----400 [III. INNER LIBRARY.] [A. BANCHI.] In primo banco Bibliothecæ Secretæ. [_Bibles, Fathers, etc._] 29 In secundo banco. _In Theologia_ 37 In tertio banco. _In Philosophia_ 41 In quarto banco. _Ius canonicum_ 20 In quinto banco. _Concilia_ 34 In sexto banco. _In Astrologia. In Hebraico. In Dalmatico. In Arabico_ 29 ----190 [B. ARMARIUM.] In primo armario Bibliothecæ Secretæ. _Libri sacri et in divino officio_ 173 In secundo armario. _Ius canonicum. Ius civile_ 148 In tertio armario. _Expositiones. In sententiis. Poetæ Grammatici et Historici Greci_ 242 In quarto armario. _In medicina. Mathematici et Astrologi. Ius canonicum et civile. Oratores et Rhetores. Platonis Opera. In Philosophia_ 186 In quinto armario. _Auctores clariores_ 89 ----938 [C. CAPSÆ.] In prima capsa primi banchi Bibliothecæ Secretæ. _In Theologia_ 107 In secunda capsa primi banchi. _Diversa facultas_ [_Miscellanea_] 66 In prima capsa secundi banchi. [_Privileges and Royal Letters in_ 3 _volumes_] 3 In secunda capsa secundi banchi. [_Miscellanea_] 124 In prima capsa tertii banchi. _Philosophi_ 90 In secunda capsa tertii banchi [00] In prima capsa quarti banchi. _Historici_ 65 In secunda capsa quarti banchi [00] In prima capsa quinti banchi. [_Official forms_] 43 In secunda capsa quinti banchi. _In Arabico_ 23 In prima capsa sexti banchi. _In Historia ecclesiastica. Ceremonialia_ 67 In secunda capsa sexti banchi. _Libri sine nomine ad quinquaginta parvi et modici quidem valoris_ 50 ----638 [D. SPALERA.] In prima capsa spaleræ Bibliothecæ Secretæ. _In Poesi. Oratores Rhetores_ 69 In secunda capsa. _In divino officio et sermones_ 59 In tertia capsa. _Concilia et Canon. De potestate ecclesiastica_ 54 In quarta et ultima capsa. _In Medicina. In Astrologia_ 34 ----216 [IV. BIBLIOTHECA PONTIFICIA.] [A. BANCHI.] In primo banco Bibliothecæ Pontificiæ. _Testamentum vetus et novum_ 19 In secundo banco. _Expositores_ 22 In tertio banco. _Augustinus_ 14 In quarto banco. _Hieronymus_ 23 In quinto banco. _In Theologia_ 22 In sexto banco. _In Theologia_ 18 In septimo banco. _Thomas_ 23 In octavo banco. _In Philosophia_ 29 In nono banco. [_Greek and Latin Classics_] 25 In decimo banco. _Ius canonicum_ 28 In undecimo banco. [_Civil Law_] 17 In duodecimo banco. [_New Testament. Fathers_] 19 ----259 [B. SPALERA.] Regestra Pontificum hic descripta in capsis Spaleræ Bibliothecæ Pontificiæ per Platinam Bibliothecarium ex ordine recondita et in capsa prima 21 In secunda capsa Spaleræ Bibliothecæ Pontificiæ 47 In tertia capsa Bibliothecæ Pont. Regestra recondita par Platynam Bibliothecarium 16 In quarta capsa Spaleræ Bibliothecæ Pontificiæ Regestra recondita 16 In quinta capsa Spaleræ Bibliothecæ Pontificiæ Regestra recondita 15 These lists give the following results: Latin Library, left hand, 9 seats 430 " " right " 7 " 313 ----743 Greek Library 8 " 400 Inner " 6 " 190 Armaria 938 Capsæ 638 Spalera 216 ----1982 Bibliotheca Pontificia 12 seats 259 5 Capsæ (Regestra) 115 ----374 ---- Total 3499 Before proceeding farther, it should be noticed that, on a rough average, each seat in the Latin Library, left hand, contained 47 volumes, and in the same Library, right hand, 43 volumes. In the Greek Library, each seat contained 50 volumes; in the Inner Library, 31 volumes; in the _Bibliotheca pontificia_, 21 volumes. In the next place I will give the results of the examination of a catalogue[394] of the Library, which M. Fabre, with much probability, assigns to the year 1512[395]. It begins as follows with the Latin Library: Ad sinistra' Pontificis bibliothecam introeuntibus In primo scanno supra [27] " " infra [27] Finis primi scanni sub et supra [54] The nine seats (_banchi_) of the left side of the Latin Library are gone through in the same way as the first, with the result that each is shewn to have two shelves. The total number of books is 457, or 27 more than in 1481. On the opposite, or right-hand side of the Library, the first two seats have three shelves, and are described as follows: In primo scanno supra [22] " " infra [27] " eodem scanno inferius siue sub infra [26] Finis primi scanni sub et subter [75] On this side of the Latin Library the number of books has risen to 360 as against 313 of the previous catalogue. In the Greek Library there are similarly two shelves to each seat, and the total number of volumes is 407 as against 400. The account of the Inner Library begins as follows: In secretiori bibliotheca In iij^o. scanno supra. [16] " " infra [17] " " inferius siue sub infra [21] Three of the seats have three shelves; the rest two; and the total number of volumes has become 222 as against 190: or, an average of 37 to each seat. The _Bibliotheca pontificia_ is introduced with the following heading: In intima et ultima secretiori bibliotheca ubi libri sunt pretiosiores. Each seat has two shelves, and the total number of volumes is 277 as against 259 in 1481. Among the MSS. occurs "Virgilius antiquus litteris maiusculis"--no doubt the Vatican Virgil (_Codex romanus_), a volume which fully justifies its place among those termed _libri pretiosiores_. This catalogue closes with the following sentence: Finis totius Bibliothece Pontificie: viz. omnium scamnorum tam Latinorum quam Grecorum in prima, secunda, tertia, et quarta eius distinctione et omnium omnino librorum: exceptis armariis et capsis: et iis libris, qui Græci ex maxima parte, in scabellis parieti adherentibus in intima ac penitissima Bibliothece parte sunt positi. Deo Laudes et Gratias. The increase between 1481 and 1512 in the number of volumes in the parts of the Library defined in the above catalogue will be best understood from the following table, which shews that 131 volumes had been added in 31 years. 1481 1512 Latin Library 743 817 Greek " 400 407 Bibliotheca secreta 190 222 " pontificia 259 277 ---- ---- Total 1592 1723 Another catalogue, unfortunately without date[396], but which has every appearance of belonging to the same period, notes the rooms as the _Bibliotheca magna publica_, i.e. the Latin and Greek Libraries taken together, the _Bibliotheca parva secreta_, and the _Bibliotheca magna secreta_. The catalogue drawn up by Zenobio Acciaioli, 12 October, 1518[397], offers no peculiarity except that in the Inner Library each seat is noted as having three rows of books, thus: In primo bancho bibliothece parve secrete Infra in secundo ordine " tertio " [Illustration: Fig 99. Interior of the Library of Sixtus IV., as shewn in a fresco in the Ospedale di Santo Spirito, Rome. From a photograph taken by Danesi.] We may now proceed to arrange the Library in accordance with the information derived from the Accounts and the catalogues, compared with the ground-plan (fig. 98). These authorities shew that in each of the rooms the books were arranged on what are called _banchi_, or as they would have been termed in England, desks, or seats, to which the books were attached by chains. It is obvious, therefore, that there must have been also seats for readers. A piece of furniture fulfilling these conditions and constructed twenty-five years earlier, is still to be seen at Cesena, as I have just explained. Further, I have examined a good many manuscripts now in the Vatican Library which formed part of the older collection; and wherever the mark of the chain has not been obliterated by rebinding, it is in the precise position required for the above system. If I am right in supposing that the cases at Cesena are a survival of what was once in general use, we should expect to find another example of them in the Vatican; and that such was the case, is proved by the evidence of a fresco in the Ospedale di Santo Spirito at Rome, representing the interior of the library. This hospital was rebuilt by Sixtus IV. on an enlarged scale[398], and after its completion in 1482, one of the halls on the ground floor was decorated with a series of frescoes representing the improvements which he had carried out in the city of Rome. Recent researches[399] make it probable that the earlier pictures in the series of which the library is one, were selected by Platina, and executed before his death in 1481. I am able to present to my readers a reduced copy of this invaluable record (fig. 99) executed for me by Signor Danesi, under the kind superintendence of Father Ehrle. The artistic merit of such a work as this is not great, but I feel sure that the artist faithfully reproduced what he saw with the limitations prescribed by his own want of skill. The desks bear a general resemblance to those at Cesena; they are plainer than the Accounts would warrant, but this may be due to want of skill on the part of the artist. The chains have also been omitted either for the same reason or from a wish to avoid detail. It will be noticed that each desk is fully furnished with volumes laid out upon it, and that these vary in number and size, and have different bindings. It may be argued that the artist wished to compliment his patrons by making the most of their property; but I should be inclined to maintain that this was the normal condition of the Library, and that the books, handsomely bound and protected by numerous bosses of metal, usually lay upon the desks ready for use. If this fresco be compared with the earlier work of Melozzo da Forli, it is not difficult to identify four of the persons present in the Library (other than the readers). The central figure is obviously Sixtus IV., and the Cardinal to whom he is speaking is, I think, meant for Giuliano della Rovere, afterwards Julius II. The figure immediately behind the Pope may be intended for Pietro Riario, and the figure behind him is certainly Platina. The others, I take it, are simply attendants. Nor must it be forgotten that, important as this fresco is in connexion with the Library of the Vatican, it is of even greater interest as a contemporary representation of a large fifteenth century library. The arrangement of each room is not quite so simple as might appear at first sight; and, besides the desks, there are other pieces of furniture to be accounted for. We will therefore go through the rooms in order with the ground-plan (fig. 98). On this plan the cases are coloured gray, the readers' seats are indicated by transverse lines, and the intervals are left white. _Latin Library._ The Accounts tell us that there were 10 seats on the left hand of the Latin Library, and that these were longer than the rest, measuring 38 palms each, or about 27 ft. 9 in. English[400]. As the distance from the central pier to the west wall is just 27 ft. 6 in., it is obvious that the cases must have stood north and south--an arrangement which is also convenient for readers, as the light would fall on them from the left hand. For this reason I have placed the first desk against the pier, the reader's seat being westward of it. A difficulty now arises. It is stated in the Accounts that _ten banchi_ are paid for, but all the catalogues mention only _nine_. I suggest that the explanation is to be found in the fact that ten pieces of furniture do occur between the pier and the wall, the first of which is a shelf and desk, and the last a seat only. This arrangement is to be seen at Cesena and in the Medicean Library at Florence. The room being 34 ft. 8 in. wide, space is left for a passage along the south wall to the door (_a_) of the Librarian's room, and also for another along the opposite ends of the desks. For the arrangement of the rest of the Library, the Accounts give a most important piece of information. They tell us that the whole of the seats for the Common Library, i.e. the Latin and Greek Libraries taken together, 25 in number, cost 300 ducats, of which sum the 10 long seats above mentioned absorbed 130 ducats, leaving 170 to pay for the remaining 15. From these data it is not difficult to calculate the cost of each palm, and from that the number of palms that 170 ducats would buy. I make this to be 510 palms, or about 373 feet[401]. It is, I think, obvious that there must have been some sort of vestibule just inside the door of entrance, where students could be received, and where they could consult the catalogue or the Librarian. Further, the catalogues shew that the seven desks arranged in this part of the Library were in all probability shorter than those of the opposite side, for they contained fewer volumes. If we allow each of them 21 ft. 4 in. in length, we shall dispose of 149 ft., which leaves 224 ft. for the 8 desks of the Greek Library, or 28 ft. for each, with one foot over. _Greek Library._ In this room there were eight seats, and, as explained above, each was about 28 ft. long. The room being 28 ft. wide, this number, with a width of 3 ft. for each, is very convenient, and leaves a passage 4 ft. wide along the west wall. The length, moreover, does not interfere with the passage from door to door, and leaves a short interval between the ends of the desks and the opposite wall. _Inner Library._ In this room space has to be provided for (1) six seats, each holding on an average about 30 volumes; (2) a press (_armarium_) with five divisions, and holding 938 volumes; (3) a settle (_spalera_); (4) 12 chests or coffers (_capsæ_). I have placed the _armarium_ at the end of the room, opposite the window. In this position it can be allowed to be 20 ft. in width with 5 divisions, each, we will suppose, about 4 ft. wide. Let us suppose further that it was 7 ft. high, and had 6 shelves. If we allow 8 volumes to each foot, each shelf would hold 32 volumes, and each division six times that number, or 192. This estimate for each division will give a total of 960 volumes for the five divisions, a number slightly in excess of that mentioned in Platina's catalogue. After allowing a space 5 ft. wide in front of the press, there is plenty of room left for 6 desks, each 21 ft. long. I have placed the _spalliera_, with its four coffers (_capsæ_) under the seat, below the window. This piece of furniture, in modern Italian _spalliera_, French _epaulière_, is common in large houses at the present day. It usually stands in an ante-room or on a landing of one of the long staircases. A portion at least of the _spalliere_ used in this Library are still in existence. They stood in the vestibule of the present Vatican Library until a short time ago, when the present Pope had them removed to the Appartamento Borgia, where they stand against the wall round one of the rooms. There are two distinct designs of different heights and ornamentation. The photograph here reproduced (fig. 100) was taken specially for my use. The _spalliere_ have evidently been a good deal altered in the process of fitting up, and moreover, as it is impossible to discover whether we have the whole or only a part of what once existed, it is useless to make any suggestion, from the length of the portions that remain, as to which room they may once have fitted. They are excellent specimens of inlaid work. That on the right, with the row of crosses along the cornice, is 6 ft. 2 in. high, and 66 ft. long. That on the left is 5 ft. 10 in. high, and 24 ft. 7 in. long. The capsæ project from the wall 1 ft. 4 in., and are 2 ft. high. Their lids vary a little in length, from 3 ft. 11 in. to 4 ft. 10 in. [Illustration: Fig. 100. The library-settles (_spalliere_) once used in the Vatican Library of Sixtus IV., and now in the Appartamento Borgia. From a photograph.] But the presence of a _spalliera_ is not the only peculiarity in the furniture of this room. Platina's catalogue shews that, connected in some manner with each seat, were two coffers (_capsæ_): and we have seen that 12 such chests were brought into the Library in 1481. I have placed these in pairs at the ends of the desks opposite the settle (_spalliera_). _Innermost Library_, or _Bibliotheca pontificia_. This Library contained 12 desks. These, from their number, must have stood east and west. There was also a _spalliera_, which held the Papal Registers. I have placed it in the recess on the north side of the room, which looks as though made for it. It should be noted that there was a map of the world in the Library, for which a frame was bought in 1478[402]; and a couple of globes--the one celestial, the other terrestrial. Covers made of sheepskin were bought for them in 1477[403]. Globes with and without such covers are shewn in the view of the Library of the University of Leyden taken in 1610 (fig. 69); and M. Fabre reminds us that globes still form part of the furniture of the Library of the Palazzo Barberini in Rome, fitted up by Cardinal Francesco Barberini, 1630-40[404]. Comfort was considered by the provision of a brazier on wheels "that it may be moved from place to place in the Library[405]." The following curious rule, copied, as it would appear, in the Library itself, by Claude Bellièvre of Lyons, who visited Rome about 1513, shews that order was strictly enforced: Nonnulla quæ collegi in bibliotheca Vaticani. Edictum S. D. N. Ne quis in bibliotheca cum altero contentiose loquatur et obstrepat, neve de loco ad locum iturus scamna transcendat et pedibus conterat, atque libros claudat et in locum percommode reponat. Ubique volet perlegerit. Secus qui faxit foras cum ignominia mittetur atque hujusce loci aditu deinceps arcebitur[406]. Before concluding, I must quote an interesting description of this Library by Montaigne: Le 6 de Mars [1581] je fus voir la librerie du Vatican qui est en cinq ou six salles tout de suite. Il y a un grand nombre de livres atachés sur plusieurs rangs de pupitres; il y en a aussi dans des coffres, qui me furent tous ouverts; force livres écris à mein et notamment un Seneque et les Opuscules de Plutarche. J'y vis de remercable la statue du bon Aristide[407] à tout une bele teste chauve, la barbe espesse, grand front, le regard plein de douceur et de magesté: son nom est escrit en sa base très antique....[408] Je la vis [la Bibliothèque] sans nulle difficulté; chacun la voit einsin et en extrait ce qu'il vent; et est ouverte quasi tous les matins, et si fus conduit partout, et convié par un jantilhomme d'en user quand je voudrois[409]. Sixtus IV. intended the library attached to the Holy See to be of the widest possible use. In the document appointing Demetrius of Lucca librarian, after Platina's death, he says distinctly that the library has been got together "for the use of all men of letters, both of our own age, or of subsequent time[410]"; and that these are not rhetorical expressions, to round a phrase in a formal letter of appointment, is proved by the way in which manuscripts were lent out of the library, during the whole time that Platina was in office. The Register of Loans, beginning with his own appointment and ending in 1485, has been printed by Müntz and Fabre, from the original in the Vatican Library[411], and a most interesting record it is. It is headed by a few words of warning, of which I give the general sense rather than a literal translation. Whoever writes his name here in acknowledgment of books received on loan out of the Pope's library, will incur his anger and his curse unless he return them uninjured within a very brief period. This statement is made by Platina, librarian to his Holiness, who entered upon his duties on the last day of February, 1475[412]. Each entry records the title of the book lent, with the name of the borrower. This entry is sometimes made by the librarian, but more frequently by the borrower himself. When the book is returned, Platina or his assistant notes the fact, with the date. The following entry, taken almost at random, will serve as a specimen: Ego Gaspar de Ozino sapientissimi domini nostri cubicularius anno salutis MCCCCLXXV die vero XXI Aprilis confiteor habuisse nomine mutui a domino Platina Lecturam sive commentum in pergameno super libris X Etticorum Aristotelis, et in fidem omnium mea propria manu scripsi et supscripsi. Liber autem pavonatio copertus est in magno volumine.----Idem Gaspar manu propria.----Restituit fideliter librum ipsum et repositus est inter philosophos die XXVIII April 1475. It is occasionally noted that a book is lent with its chain, as for instance: Christoforus prior S. Balbine habuit Agathium Historicum ex banco viii^o cum cathena.... Restituit die XX Octobris post mortem Platyne. When no chain is mentioned are we to understand that the book was not so protected, and that there were in the library a number of books without chains, perhaps for the purpose of being more conveniently borrowed? A few words should be added on the staff of the library. At first--that is during the year 1475--Platina had under his orders three subordinates, Demetrius, Salvatus, and John. These are called writers (_scriptores_) or keepers (_custodes_); and Salvatus is once called librarian (_librarius_), but it will be shewn below that this word means a writer rather than a librarian, as we understand the word. The position of these persons was extremely humble; and Salvatus was so indigent that his shoes were mended at the Pope's expense, and a decent suit of clothes provided for him at the cost of eight ducats[413]. Besides these there was a bookbinder, also called John. In the following year two keepers only are mentioned, Demetrius and Josias. The latter died of the plague in 1478. The salary of the librarian was at the rate of ten ducats a month, and that of each of his subordinates at the rate of one ducat for the same period. This arrangement appears to have been confirmed by a Bull of Sixtus IV. before the end of 1477[414]. These officers and Platina appear to have lived together in the rooms adjoining the Latin Library, as shewn by the accounts for the purchase of beds, furniture, and the like[415]; and when Josias falls ill of the plague, Platina sends away Demetrius and John the bookbinder, "for fear they should die or infect others[416]." All articles required for the due maintenance of the library were provided by Platina. The charges for binding and lettering are the most numerous. Skins were bought in the gross--on one occasion as many as 600--and then prepared for use. All other materials, as gold, colours, varnish, nails, horn, clasps, etc., were bought in detail, when required; and probably used in some room adjoining the library. Platina also saw to the illumination (_miniatio_) of such MSS. as required it. Comfort and cleanliness were not forgotten. There are numerous charges for coals, with an amusing apology for their use in winter "because the place was so cold"; and for juniper to fumigate (_ad suffumigandum_). Brooms are bought to clean the library, and fox-tails to dust the books (_ad tergendos libros_[417]). It should further be mentioned that Sixtus assigned an annual income to the library by a brief dated 15th July, 1477. It is therein stipulated that the fees, paid according to custom by all officials appointed to any office vacated by resignation, should thenceforward be transferred to the account of the library[418]. While Sixtus IV. was thus engaged in Rome, a rival collector, Federigo da Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino (1444--1482), was devoting such leisure as he could snatch from warfare to similar pursuits. The room in which he stored his treasures is practically unaltered. It differs materially in arrangement from the other libraries of the same period. This difference is perhaps due to its position in a residence which was half palace, half castle. It is on the ground floor of a building which separates the inner from the outer court. It measures 45 ft. in length, by 20 ft. 9 in. in width. The walls are about 14 ft. high to the spring of the barrel-vault which covers the whole space. There are two large windows at the north end of the room, and one at the south end. These are about 7 ft. from the ground. The original entrance was through a door into the inner court, now blocked. In the centre of the vault is a large eagle in relief with F.D. on each side of its head; round it is a wreath of cherubs' heads: and outside of all a broad band of flames and rays. The vault is further decorated with isolated flames, gilt, on a white ground[419]. The books are said to have occupied eight presses, or sets of shelves, set against the east and west walls, but our information on the subject of the fittings is provokingly meagre. It is chiefly contained in the following passage of a description written by Bernardino Baldi, and dated 10 June, 1587. Baldi, as a native of Urbino, and in later life attached to the service of the Duke, must have been well acquainted with the room and its contents. La stanza destinata a questi libri è alia mano sinistra di chi entra nel Palazzo contigua al vestibolo, o andito ... le fenestre ha volte a Tramontana, le quali per esser alte dal pavimento, ed in testa della stanza, e volte a parte di cielo che non ha sole, fanno un certo lume rimesso, il quale pare col non distraer la vista con la soverchia abbondanza della luce, che inviti ed inciti coloro rhe v'entrano a studiare. La state è freschissima, l' inverno temperatamente calda. Le scanzie de' libri sono accostate alle mura, e disposte con molto bell' ordine. In questa fra gli altri libri sono due Bibbie, una latina scritta a penna e miniata per mano di eccellentissimi artefici, e l' altra Ebrea antichissima scritta pure a mano ... Questa si posa sopra un gran leggivo d' ottone, e s' appoggia all' ale d' una grande aquila pur d' ottone che aprendole la sostiene. Intorno alle cornici che circondano la libreria si leggono scritti nel fregio questi versi[420]. In the preface to the catalogue of the library published at Rome in 1895, the author, after quoting the above passage, adds "There were eight presses each containing seven shelves"[421]. The architectural decorations have all disappeared, with the exception of a fragment of a pediment at the south end of the room, on which F. E. DVX is still visible. The lectern is in the choir of the cathedral. The Biblioteca Laurenziana, or Medicean Library, at Florence, is the last Italian library which I intend to describe. After the death of Pope Leo X. in 1521, his executor Cardinal Giulio dei Medici, afterwards Pope Clement VII., restored to Florence the books which their ancestors had got together, and commissioned Michelangelo to build a room for their reception. The work was frequently interrupted, and it was not until 1571 (11 June) that the library was formally opened. The great architect, supported by the generosity of the Pope, constructed an apartment which for convenience and for appropriate decoration stands alone among libraries. It is raised high above the ground in order to secure an ample supply of light and air, and is approached by a double staircase of marble. It is 151 ft. 9 in. long, by 34 ft. 4 in. broad, and was originally lighted by 15 windows in each of the side-walls at a height of about 7 ft. 6 in. from the floor. There is a flat roof of wood, carved; and a pavement of terra-cotta consisting of yellow designs on a red ground. When the room was first fitted up there were 44 desks on each side, but when the reading-room was built at the beginning of the last century, four were destroyed. This reading-room also blocks four windows. The glass was supplied by Giovanni da Udine in 1567 and 1568. The subjects are heraldic. In each window the arms of the Medici occupy a central position, and are surrounded by wreaths, arabesques, and other devices of infinite grace and variety, in the style which the genius of Raphael had introduced into the Vatican. [Illustration: Fig. 101. Bookcases in the Medicean Library, Florence.] The bookcases (fig. 101) are of walnut-wood, a material which is said to have been prescribed by the Pope himself. They were executed, if we may believe Vasari[422], by Battista del Cinque and Ciapino, but they are now known to have been designed by Michelangelo. A rough outline in one of his sketch-books, preserved in the Casa Buonarotti at Florence with other relics illustrating his life, and here reproduced (fig. 102), unquestionably represents one of these desks. The indication of a human figure on the seat proves the care which he took to ensure a height convenient for readers. [Illustration: Fig. 102. Copy, slightly reduced, of a sketch by Michelangelo for one of the bookcases in the Medicean Library, Florence.] These desks are on the same general plan as those at Cesena, but they are rather higher and more richly ornamented. Each is 11 ft. 3 in. long, and 4 ft. 4 in. high. It must be admitted that the straight back to the reader's seat is not so comfortable as the gentle slope provided in the older example. A frame for the catalogue hangs on the end of each desk next the central alley. In order to make clear the differences in the construction of the desks at Cesena and at Florence I append an elevation of each (figs. 103, 104). [Illustration: Fig. 103. Elevation of desks at Cesena.] [Illustration: Fig. 104. Elevation of desks at Florence.] It will be seen from the view of one of the desks (fig. 101) that the books either lie on the sloping desk or are packed away on the shelf under it. There is an average of 25 books on each desk. The chains, as at Cesena, are attached to the lower edge of the right board, at distances varying from 2 in. to 4 in. from the back of the book (fig. 105). The staple is sunk into the wood. [Illustration: Fig. 105. A book in the Medicean Library, to shew attachment of chain.] The chains are made of fine iron bars about one-eighth of an inch wide, but not quite so thick, flattened at the end of each link, and rounded in the centre, where a piece of the same iron is lapped round, but not soldered. Each chain (fig. 106) is 2 ft. 3 in. long. So far as I could judge all the chains in the library are of the same length. There is a ring at the end of the chain next to the bar, but no swivel. [Illustration: Fig. 106. Piece of chain in the Medicean Library, of the actual size.] The ironwork by which these chains are attached to the desk is somewhat complicated. By the kindness of the librarian, Signor Guido Biagi, I have been allowed to study it at my leisure, and to draw a diagrammatic sketch (fig. 107) which I hope will make it clear to my readers. The lock is sunk in the central support of the desk. The bar passes through a ring on each side of this support, and also through a ring near each end of the desk. These rings are fixed to the lower edge of the desk just under the molding. A flat piece of iron is forged on to the bar near the centre. This iron is pierced near the key-hole with an oblong slit through which passes a moveable piece of iron, here shewn in outline of its actual size (fig. 108). The bolt of the lock passes through a hole in this piece, and holds the bar firmly in its place. [Illustration: Fig. 107. Diagram to explain the ironwork at the Medicean Library.] [Illustration: Fig. 108. Outline of bolt forming part of ironwork.] The bar is not quite so long as the desk; consequently, when it has been unlocked, and the iron bolt sketched above withdrawn, it can be turned round by taking hold of the central iron, and pushed to the right or to the left, past the terminal rings. The chains can then be readily unstrung, or another strung upon the bar. In the next chapter I shall describe the changes in Library arrangements adopted during the period which succeeded the Middle Ages; but, before ending this present chapter, there are a few points affecting the older libraries and their organization to which I should like to draw attention. In the first place all medieval libraries were practically public. I do not mean that strangers were let in, but even in those of the monasteries, books were let out on the deposit of a sufficient caution; and in Houses such as S. Victor and S. Germain des Près, Paris, and at the Cathedral of Rouen, the collections were open to readers on certain days in the week. The Papal library and those at Urbino and Florence were also public; and even at Oxford and Cambridge there was practically no objection to lending books on good security. Secular corporations followed the example set by the Church, and lent their manuscripts, but only on security. A very remarkable example of this practice is afforded by the transaction between the École de Médecine, Paris, and Louis XI. The king wanted their copy of a certain work on medicine; they declined to lend it unless he deposited 12 marks worth of plate and 100 gold crowns. This he agreed to do; the book was borrowed; duly copied, and 24 January, 1472, restored to the Medical Faculty, who in their turn sent back the deposit to the king[423]. As a general rule, these libraries were divided into the lending library and the library of reference. These two parts of the collection have different names given to them. In the Vatican Library of Sixtus IV. we find the common library (_Bibliotheca communis_) or public library (_B. publica_), and the reserved library (_B. secreta_). The same terms were used at Assisi. At Santa Maria Novella, Florence, there was the library, and the lesser library (_B. minor_). In the University Library, Cambridge, there was "the public library" which contained the more ordinary books and was open to everybody, and "the private library" where the more valuable books were kept and to which only a few privileged persons were admitted[424]. At Queens' College, in the same university, the books which might be lent (_libri distribuendi_) were kept in a separate room from those which were chained to the shelves (_libri concatenati_), and at King's College there was a public library (_B. magna_) and a lesser library (_B. minor_). In short, in every large collection some such division was made, either structural, or by means of a separate catalogue[425]. I have shewn that two systems of bookcases, which I have called lectern-system and stall-system, were used in these libraries; but, as both these have been copiously illustrated, I need say no more on that part of the subject. Elaborate catalogues, of which I have given a few specimens, enabled readers to find what they wanted in the shortest possible time, and globes, maps, and astronomical instruments provided them with further assistance in their studies. Moreover in some places the library served the purpose of a museum, and curiosities of various kinds were stored up in it. No picture of a medieval library can be complete unless it be remembered that in many cases beauty was no less an object than utility. The bookcases were fine specimens of carpentry-work, carved and decorated; the pavement was of encaustic tiles worked in patterns; the walls were decorated with plaster-work in relief; the windows were filled with stained glass; and the roof-timbers were ornamented with the coat-armour of benefactors. Of these embellishments the most distinctive was the glass. At St Albans the twelve windows contained figures illustrating the subjects of the books placed near them. For instance, the second window represented Rhetoric and Poetry; and the figures selected were those of Cicero, Sallust, Musaeus, Orpheus. Appropriate verses were inscribed beneath each. The whole scheme recalls the library of Isidore, Bishop of Seville, which I have already described[426]. In the library of Jesus College, Cambridge, each light contains a cock standing on a globe, the emblem of Bishop Alcock the founder, with a label in his beak bearing a suitable text, and under his feet an inscription containing half the designation required. For instance, the first two bookcases contained works on Physic, and in the window is the word PHI-SICA divided between the two lights[427]. In Election Hall at Eton College--a room originally intended for a library--we find the Classes of Civil Law, Criminal and Canon Law, Medicine, etc., illustrated by medallions shewing a church council, an execution, a physician and his patient, and the like[428]. At the Sorbonne, Paris, the 38 windows of the library were filled with the portraits of those who had conferred special benefits on the college[429]; at Froidmont[430] near Beauvais the authors of the _Voyage Littéraire_ remark the beautiful stained glass in the library: and in Bishop Cobham's library at Oxford, according to Hearne, there "was brave painted glass containing the arms of the benefactors, which painted glass continued till the times of the late rebellion[431]." Lastly, I will collect the different terms used to designate medieval bookcases. They are--arranged alphabetically--_analogium_, _bancus_ or _banca_, _descus_, _gradus_, _stallum_, _stalla_, _stallus_ or _staulum_, and _sedile_. I have sometimes thought that it would be possible to determine the form of the bookcase from the word used to describe it; but increased study has convinced me that this is impossible, and that the words were used quite loosely. For instance, _bancus_ designates the cases in the Vatican Library which represent a variety of the lectern-system; and its French equivalent _banc_ the cases at Clairvaux which were stalls with four shelves apiece. Again "desk" (_descus_) is used interchangeably with "stall" (_stallum_) in a catalogue of the University Library, Cambridge, dated 1473, to designate what I strongly suspect were lecterns; in 1693 by Bishop Hacket when describing the stalls which Dean Williams gave to the library at Westminster Abbey[432]: and in 1695 by Sir C. Wren to describe bookcases which were partly set against the walls, partly at right-angles to them. It has been already shewn that _gradus_ means a shelf, or a lectern, or a side of a lectern[433]; and _sedile_ is obviously only the Latin equivalent for "seat," which was sometimes used, as at S. John's College, Cambridge, in 1623[434], to designate a bookcase. It was also used at Christ Church, Canterbury, for what I have shewn to be a stall with four shelves[435]. The word _analogium_ was used in France to signify a lectern[436]. The word "class" (_classis_) is used at the University Library, Cambridge, in 1584, instead of the ancient "stall," and afterwards superseded it entirely. For instance, when a Syndicate was appointed in 1713 to provide accommodation for Bishop Moore's Library, the bookcases are described as _Thecæ sive quas vocant classes_. Gradually the term was extended until it reached its modern signification, namely, the shelves under a given window together with those on the sides of the bookcases to the right and left of the spectator facing it[437]. We sometimes meet with the word _distinctio_. For instance, an Apocalypse in the library of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, which once belonged to St Augustine's College, Canterbury, is noted as having stood "_distinctione prima gradu tertio_"; and the same word is used in the introduction to the catalogue of Dover Priory to signify what I am compelled to decide was a bookcase. The word _demonstratio_, on the other hand, which occurs at the head of the catalogue of the library of Christ Church, Canterbury, made between 1285 and 1331, probably denotes a division of subject, and not a piece of furniture. Until the lectern-system had gone out of fashion, a word to denote a shelf was not needed. When shelves had to be referred to, _textus_[438] was used at Canterbury, and _linea_[439] at Citeaux. On the other hand, at Saint Ouen at Rouen, this word indicates a row of bookcases, probably lecterns. In a record of loans[440] from that library in 1372 and following years, the books borrowed are set down as follows (to quote a few typical instances): Item, digestum novum, linea I, E, II. Item, liber de regulis fidei, cum aliis, linea III, L, VIII. Item, Tulius de officiis, linea II a parte sinistra, D, II. These extracts will be sufficient to shew that the cases were arranged in three double rows, each double row being called a _linea_. Each lectern was marked with a letter of the alphabet, and each book with the number of the row, the letter of the lectern to which it belonged, and its number on the lectern. Thus, to take the first of the above entries, the Digest was to be found in the first row, on lectern E, and was the second volume on the said lectern. It is evident that there was a row of lecterns on each side of a central alley or passage, and that a book was to be found on the right hand, unless the left hand was specially designated. A catalogue has been preserved of the books in the castle of Peñiscola on the east coast of Spain, when the anti-pope Benedict XIII. retired there in 1415. They were kept in presses (_armaria_), each of which was subdivided into a certain number of compartments (_domuncule_), each of which again contained two shelves (_ordines_)[441]. I suggest that this piece of furniture resembled, on a large scale, Le Chartrier de Bayeux, which I have already figured (fig. 26). In conclusion, I will quote a passage in which the word library designates a bookcase. It occurs in an inventory of the goods in the church of S. Christopher le Stocks, London, made in 1488: On the south side of the vestrarie standeth a grete library with ij longe lecturnalles theron to ley on the bokes[442]. I need hardly remind my readers that the French word _bibliothèque_ has the same double meaning. FOOTNOTES: [356] Catalogus Codicum Manuscriptorum Malastestianæ Cæsenatis bibliothecæ fratrum minorum fidei custodiæque concreditæ.... Auctore Josepho Maria Mucciolo ejusdem ordinis fratre et Ravennatis coenobii alumno. 2 vols. fol. Cæsenæ, 1780-84. [357] These measurements were taken by myself, with a tape, in September, 1895. [358] The desk bearing a single volume shewn on this seat (fig. 93) is modern. [359] These measurements were taken by myself with a tape, in April 1898, and verified in April 1899. [360] This catalogue is in the State Archives at Modena. [361] I visited Monte Oliveto 19 April, 1899. [362] See _Ueber Mittelalterliche Bibliotheken_, v. T. Gottlieb. 8vo. 1890, p. 181. I have twice visited Assisi and examined the Catalogue here referred to. My best thanks are due to Professor Alessandri for giving me every assistance in my researches. [363] Inprimis facimus inventarium de libris in libraria publica ad bancos cathenatis in hunc modum. Et nota, quod omnia folia omnium librorum, qui sunt in isto inuentario sive per sexternos vel quinternos aut quaternos seu quemvis per alium numerum majorem vel minorem omnes quotquot sunt, nomina quaternorum tenent, ut apparet in quolibet libro in primo quaterno in margine inferiori; quare omnes sunt ante et retro de nigro et rubeo per talem figuram intus cum suo numero signati. Item lictere alphabeti, qui desuper postes ponuntur, omnes debent esse aliquantulum grosse et totaliter nigre, sicut inferius in fine cuiuslibet libri signatur. The spots round this figure are alternately black and red. [364] Ducange s. v. _solarium_ shews that occasionally it =_armarium_. [365] I have to thank Father C. J. Ehrle, _S. J._, Prefect of the Vatican Library, for the very great kindness with which he has assisted me in these researches during three visits to Rome in 1898, 1899, 1900; and also the officials who allowed me to examine parts of the palace not usually accessible to strangers. Further, I wish it to be clearly and distinctly understood that my researches are based upon an essay by M. Paul Fabre, _La Vaticane de Sixte IV._, which had appeared in the _Milanges d'Archéologie et d'Histoire of the École Française de Rome_ for December 1895, but of the existence of which I had never heard until Father Ehrle shewed it to me. On reading it, I found that M. Fabre had completely anticipated me; he had done exactly what I had come to Rome to do, and in such a masterly fashion that I could not hope to improve upon his work. After some consideration I determined to verify his conclusions by carefully examining the locality, and to make a fresh ground-plan of it for my own use. I have also studied the authorities quoted by M. Eugène Müntz (_Les Arts à la Cour des Papes_) from my own point of view. There are two works to which I shall frequently refer: _Les Arts à la Cour des Papes pendant le xv^e et le xvi^e siècle_, par Eugène Müntz: Part III. 1882 (Bibl. des Écoles Françaises d'Athènes et de Rome, Fasc. 28): and _La Bibliothèque du Vatican_ _au xv^e Siècle_, par Eugène Müntz et Paul Fabre; Paris, 1887 (Ibid. Fasc. 48). The former will be cited as "Müntz"; the latter as "Müntz et Fabre." My paper, of which an abstract only is here given, has been published in the _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ 6 March 1899, Vol. X. pp. 11-61. [366] This document, dated 17 December, 1471, has been printed by Müntz, p. 120. I am afraid that this order can have but one meaning: viz. the excavation and destruction of ancient buildings. [367] This is the date assigned by Platina himself. See below, p. 231. [368] MS. Vat. Lat. 3947, fol. 118 b. Notatio omnium librorum Bibliothecæ palatinæ Sixti quarti Pont. Max. tam qui in banchis quam qui in Armariis et capsis sunt a Platyna Bibliothecario et Demetrio Lucense eius alumno custode die xiiii. mensis Septemb. M.CCCC.LXXXI facta. Ante vero eius decessum dierum octo tantummodo. This _Notatio_ has been printed, Müntz et Fabre, p. 250, but without the catalogue to which it forms an appendix. This, so far as I know, still remains unprinted. [369] Müntz et Fabre, pp. 148-150, _passim_. [370] _Ibid._ p. 32. [371] _Ibid._ p. 141. The catalogue is printed pp. 159-250. [372] MS. Vat. 5008. [373] These accounts, now preserved in the State Archives at Rome, have been printed with great accuracy (so far as I was able to judge from a somewhat hasty collation) by Müntz, _Les Arts à la Cour da Papes_, Vol. III. 1882, p. 121 sq.; and by Müntz and Fabre, _La Bibliothèque du Vatican au xv^e Siècle_, 1887, p. 148 sq. [374] The entries referring to these purchases are given in full, with translations, in my paper above referred to. [375] The name is derived from the frescoes with which its external walls were decorated during the reign of Pius IV. (1559-1565). They represented palm trees, on which parrots (_papagalli_) and other birds were perching. Fragments of these frescoes are still to be seen. The court beyond this "del Portoncin di Ferro" was so called from an iron gate by which the passage into it from the Cortile del Papagallo could be closed. [376] The difference of level between the floor of the court and the floor of the library is eighteen inches. An inclined plane of wood now replaces the steps. [377] Item pro purganda bibliotheca veteri et asportandis calcinaciis duarum fenestrarum factarum inter græcam et latinam b. XX die qua supra, i.e. 20 Aug. 1480. Müntz, p. 132. [378] A Foundling Hospital, alluding to the Ospedale di Santo Spirito founded by Sixtus IV. [379] Fabre, _La Vaticane_, p. 464. Bunsen, _Die Beschreibung der Stadt Rom_, ed. 1832, Vol. II.. Part 2, p. 418. [380] The following entry is curious: Habuere Paulus et Dionysius pictores duos ducatos pro duobus paribus caligarum quas petiere a domino nostro dum pingerent cancellos bibliothecæ et restituerent picturam bibliothecæ græcæ, ita n. Sanctitas sua mandavit, die xviii martii 1478. Müntz, p. 131. [381] Fabre, _La Vaticane_, p. 465, citing Bandini, _Bibliothecæ Mediceo-Laurentianæ catalogus_, I. p. xxxviii. [382] Enumeravi, præsente Clemente synescalcho familiæ s. d. n., Salvato librario, et Demetrio lectore, ducatos XLV Francischo fabro lignario mediolanensi habitatori piscinæ urbis Romæ pro banchis Bibliothecæ conficiendis, maxime vero decem quæ ad sinistram jacent, quorum longitudo est XXXVIII palmorum, vel circa, et ita accepta parte pecuniarum, cujus summa est centum et XXX ducatorum, facturum se debitum promittit et obligat, die XV Julii 1475. Müntz, p. 121. [383] Item solvi eidem ducatos XXX pro reliquo XXV banchorum bibliothecæ: pro longioribus autem qui sunt X solvebantur centum et triginta, ut supra scriptum est; pro reliquis solvebantur centum et septuaginta; quæ summa est tricentorum ducatorum: atque ita pro banchis omnibus ei satisfactum est, die VII Junii 1476. Müntz, p. 126. The rest of the money had been paid to him by instalments between 15 July, 1475, and this date. [384] Magister Joanninus faber lignarius de Florentia habuit a me Platyna s. d. n. bibliothecario pro fabrica banchorum Bibliothecæ secretæ, pro Armario magno et Spaleria ejusdem loci, quæ omnia extimata fuerunt centum et octuaginta ducat' a magistro Francisco de Mediolano; habuit, ut præfertur, ducatos sexaginta quinque et bononenos sexaginta die VII maii 1477. Müntz, p. 130. There were 100 bononeni in each ducat. [385] Habuit ultimo ducatos octo pro tribus tabulis ex nuce cornisate (?) ad continenda nomina librorum e per le cornise de tre banchi vechi ex nuce die supradicta; nil omnino restat habere ut ipse sua manu affirmat, computatis in his illis LX bononenis qui superius scribuntur. Müntz, p. 130. [386] Dedi Joanni pictori famulo m. Melotii pro pictura trium tabularum ubi descripta sunt librorum nomina carlenos XVIII die X Octobris 1477. _Ibid._, p. 131. [387] Item pro XII capsis latis in bibliothecam secretam. Müntz et Fabre, p. 158. [388] Magister Joanninus de Florentia et m. Marcus ejus frater faber lignarius habuere ducatos XXV pro parte solucionis banchorum quæ fiunt in bibliotheca addita nunc a S^mo. d. nostro, die XVIII Julii 1480. Müntz, p. 134. [389] Müntz, pp. 124-126. [390] Magister Joannes fabricator catenarum habuit a me die XIIII aprilis 1477 ducatos decem, ad summam centum et quinque ducatorum quos ei debebam pro tribus miliaribus et libris octingentis ferri fabrefacti ad usum bibliothecæ, videlicet pro quadraginta octo virgis ferreis ad quas in banchis libri connectuntur [etc.]. Müntz, p. 128. [391] _Ibid._, p. 127. [392] _Ibid._, p. 135. [393] MSS. Vat. 3947. [394] MSS. Vat. 7135. [395] _La Vaticane_, etc., p. 475. [396] MS. Vat. 3946. [397] MS. Vat. 3948. [398] For an account of what Sixtus accomplished at Santo Spirito see Pastor, _History of the Popes_, Eng. Tran. IV. 460-462. [399] Brockhaus, _Janitschek's Repertorium für Kunstwissenschaften_, Band VII. (1884); Schmarsow, _Melozzo da Forli_ (1886), pp. 202-207. [400] I have taken 1 palm = mètre 0·223; and 1 mètre = 39·37 in. [401] My calculation works out as follows. Each of 10 seats was 38 palms long: total length, 380 palms. As these 10 seats cost 130 ducats, each palm cost 130/380 ducats = 1/3 a ducat nearly. As the total paid was 300 ducats, this first payment, viz. 130 ducats, left 170 ducats still due for the 15 remaining seats. As each palm cost a third of a ducat, 170 ducats would buy 510 palms = 113·73 metres = 4477 inches (nearly) = 373 feet. [402] Per lo tellaro del mappamondo b. 52. Müntz, p. 129. Habuere pictores armorum quæ sunt facta in duabus sphæris solidis et pro pictura mappemundi ducatos III, die XII decembris 1477. Müntz et Fabre, p. 151. This map had probably been provided by Pius II. (1458-1464), who kept in his service Girolamo Bellavista, a Venetian maker of maps. Müntz et Fabre, 126. [403] Expendi pro cobopertura facta duobus sphæris solidis quarum in altera est ratio signorum, in altera cosmographia, ducatos IIII videlicet cartenos XVI in octo pellibus montoninis, cartenos XXV in manifactura; sunt nunc ornata graphio cum armis s. d. n., die XX decembris 1477. Müntz el Fabre, p. 152. M. Fabre quotes an extract in praise of the map and globes from a letter written from Rome in 1505, _La Vaticane de Sixte IV._, p. 471 _note_. [404] _Ibid._ [405] Müntz, p. 130. [406] Bibl. Nat. Paris, MSS. Lat. 13123, fol. 220, quoted by Müntz et Fabre, p. 140. [407] This statue, found in Rome in the middle of the sixteenth century, represents Aristides Smyrnæus, a Greek rhetorician of the second century after Christ. It is still in the Vatican Library, at the entrance to the Museo Cristiano. [408] In the omitted passage Montaigne describes a number of books shewn to him. [409] _Journal du voyage de Michel de Montaigne en Italie_, ed. Prof. Alessandro d' Ancona. 8vo. Città di Castello, 1895, p. 269. I owe this quotation to M. Fabre. [410] Müntz et Fabre, p. 299. [411] _Ibid._, pp. 269-298. MSS. Vat. Lat. 3964. [412] Quisquis es qui tuum nomen hic inscribis ob acceptos commodo libros e bibliotheca pontificis, scito te indignationem ejus et execrationem incursurum nisi peropportune integros reddideris. Hoc tibi denuntiat Platyna, S. suæ bibliothecarius, qui tantæ rei curam suscepit pridie Kal. Martii 1475. [413] Dedi die XIII Septembris 1475 ducatum unum Salvato scriptori pro emendis calligis. Item expendi pro veste una Salvati scriptoris seminudi et algentis ducatos XIII de mandato sancti domini nostri. Müntz et Fabre, p. 148. [414] Habui ego Platyna sanctissimi domini nostri bibliothecarius ducatos triginta pro salario meo, quod est decem ducatorum in mense, ab idibus Julii usque ad idus Octobris 1477, quemadmodum apparet in bulla de facultatibus officiis et muneribus a sanctissimo domino nostro papa Sixto IIII facta. _Ibid._ p. 150. [415] Müntz, pp. 129, 133. [416] Item dedi ducatos quinque pro quolibet Demetrio et Johanni ligatori librorum quos ex mandato domini nostri foras misi, mortuo ex peste eorum socio, ne ipsi quoque eo loci interirent vel alios inficerent, die VIII junii 1478. Müntz et Fabre, pp. 153. [417] The entries alluded to in this account will all be found in Müntz and Fabre, pp. 148-158. [418] The document is printed by Müntz and Fabre, p. 300. [419] I visited Urbino for the purpose of studying this library 28 April, 1900. [420] _Memorie concernenti la Citta di Urbino._ Fol. Rome, 1724, p. 37. See also Vespasiano, _Federigo Duca d' Urbino_; ap. Mai, _Spicilegium Romanian_, I. pp. 124-128; Dennistoun, _Memoirs of the Dukes of Urbino_, 8vo. 1851, I. pp. 153-160. The duties of the librarian, which remind us in many particulars of those of the monastic _armarius_, are translated by Dennistoun (p. 159) from Vat. Urb. MSS. No. 1248, f. 58. [421] _Codices Urbinates Graeci Bibl. Vat._ 4to. Rome, 1895, p. 12. For this statement, the writer cites Raffaelli, _Imparziale istoria dell' unione delta Biblioteca ducale di Urbino alia Vaticana di Roma_. Fermo, 1877, p. 12. [422] _Vasari_, ed. 1856, vol. XII. p. 214. [423] Franklin, _Anc. Bibl. de Paris_, II. 22. [424] This statement rests on the authority of Dr Caius, _Hist. Cant. Acad._ p. 89. Cum duæ bibliothecæ erant, altera priuata seu noua, altera publica seu vetus dicebatur. In illa optimi quique; in hac omnis generis ex peiori numero ponebantur. Illa paucis, ista omnibus patebat. [425] _Arch. Hist._ III. p. 401. [426] See above p. 45. Dr James has printed the verses from Bodl. MSS. Laud. 697, fol. 27, _verso_, in _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ VIII. 213. [427] The whole series is given in _Arch. Hist._ III. p. 461. [428] I quote this account of the glass at Eton from Dr James, _ut supra_, p. 214. [429] De Lisle, _Cabinet de Manuscrits_, vol. II. p. 200. [430] _Voyage Littéraire_, ed. 1717, II. 158. [431] Bliss, _Reliquiæ Hearnianæ_, II. 693; _ap._ Macray, _Annals_, p. 4. [432] See above, p. 188. [433] See Index. [434] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. II. p. 270. [435] See above, p. 192. [436] See Index. [437] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. III. p. 30. Conyers Middleton, _Bibl. Cant. Ord. Meth._ Works, Vol. III. p. 484. [438] See above, p. 192. [439] See above, p. 105. [440] _Du prêt des livres dans l' abbaye de Saint Ouen, sous Charles V._ par L. Delisle. _Bibl. de l' École des Chartes_, ser. III. Vol. I. p. 225. 1849. [441] _Le Librairie des Papes d' Avignon_, par Maurice Faucon, Tome II. p. 43, in _Bibl. des Écoles Françaises d'Athènes et de Rome_, Fasc. 50. [442] _Archæologia_, Vol. 47, p. 120. I have to thank my friend Mr P. T. Micklethwaite, architect, for this quotation. CHAPTER VII. CONTRAST BETWEEN THE FIFTEENTH AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES. SUPPRESSION OF THE MONASTERIES. COMMISSIONERS OF EDWARD VI. SUBSEQUENT CHANGES IN LIBRARY FITTINGS. S. JOHN'S COLLEGE, AND UNIVERSITY LIBRARY, CAMBRIDGE. QUEEN'S COLLEGE, OXFORD. LIBRARIES ATTACHED TO CHURCHES AND SCHOOLS. CHAINING IN RECENT TIMES. CHAINS TAKEN OFF. I have now traced the evolution of the bookcase from a clumsy contrivance consisting of two boards set at an angle to each other, to the stately pieces of furniture which, with but little alteration, are still in use; and I hope that I have succeeded in shewing that the fifteenth century was emphatically the library-era throughout Europe. Monasteries, cathedrals, universities, and secular institutions in general vied with each other in erecting libraries, in stocking them with books, and in framing liberal regulations for making them useful to the public. To this development of study in all directions the sixteenth century offers a sad and startling contrast. In France the Huguenot movement took the form of a bitter hostility to the clergy--which, after the fashion of that day, exhibited itself in a very general destruction of churches, monasteries, and their contents; while England witnessed the suppression of the Monastic Orders, and the annihilation, so far as was practicable, of all that belonged to them. I have shewn that monastic libraries were the public libraries of the Middle Ages; more than this, the larger houses were centres of culture and education, maintaining schools for children, and sending older students to the Universities. In three years, between 1536 and 1539. the whole system was swept away, as thoroughly as though it had never existed. The buildings were pulled down, and the materials sold; the plate was melted; and the books were either burnt, or put to the vilest uses to which waste literature can be subjected. I will state the case in another way which will bring out more clearly the result of this catastrophe. Upwards of eight hundred monasteries were suppressed, and, as a consequence, eight hundred libraries were done away with, varying in size and importance from Christ Church, Canterbury, with its 2000 volumes, to small houses with little more than the necessary service-books. By the year 1540 the only libraries left in England were those at the two Universities, and in the Cathedrals of the old foundation. Further, the royal commissioners made no attempt to save any of the books with which the monasteries were filled. In France in 1789 the revolutionary leaders sent the libraries of the convents they pillaged to the nearest town: for instance, that of Citeaux to Dijon; of Clairvaux to Troyes; of Corbie to Amiens. But in England at the suppression no such precautions were taken; manuscripts seem to have been at a discount just then, for which the invention of printing may be to some extent responsible; their mercantile value was small; private collectors were few. So the monastic libraries perished, save a few hundred manuscripts which have survived to give us an imperfect notion of what the rest were like. How great the loss was, has probably been recorded by more than one writer; but for the moment I can think of nothing more graphic than the words of that bitter protestant John Bale, a contemporary who had seen the old libraries, and knew their value. After lamenting that "in turnynge ouer of y^e superstycyouse monasteryes so lytle respect was had to theyr lybraryes for the sauegarde of those noble and precyouse monumentes" (the works of ancient writers), he states what ought to have been done, and what really happened. Neuer had we bene offended for the losse of our lybraryes beynge so many in nombre and in so desolate places for the most parte, yf the chiefe monumentes and moste notable workes of our excellent wryters had bene reserued. If there had bene in every shyre but one solempne lybrary, to the preseruacyon of those noble workes, it had bene yet sumwhat. But to destroy all without consydyracyon is and wyll be vnto Englande for euer a moste horryble infamy amonge the graue senyours of other nacyons. A greate nombre of them whych purchased those superstycyouse mansyons, reserued of those bokes some to ... scoure theyr candelstyckes, and some to rubbe theyr bootes. Some they sold to the grossers and sopesellers, and some they sent ouer see to the boke bynders, not in small nombre, but at times whole shyppes full, to the wonderynge of the foren nacyons. I know a merchaunt man which shall at this tyme be namelesse, that boughte the contentes of two noble lybraryes for. xl. shyllynges pryce, a shame it is to be spoken. This stuffe hath he occupyed in the stede of graye paper by the space of more than these .x. yeares, and yet he hath store ynough for many yeares to come[443]. The Universities, though untouched by the suppression, were not allowed to remain long at peace. In 1549, commissioners were sent by Edward the Sixth to Oxford and Cambridge. They considered that it fell within their province to reform the libraries as well as those who used them; and they did their work with a thoroughness that under other circumstances would have been worthy of commendation. Anthony Wood[444] has told us in eloquent periods, where sorrow struggles with indignation, how the college libraries were treated; how manuscripts which had nothing superstitious about them except a few rubricated initials, were carried through the city on biers to the market-place and there consumed. Of the treatment meted out to the public library of the University he gives an almost identical account[445]. This library--now the central portion of the Bodleian--had been completed about 1480. It was well stocked with manuscripts of value, the most important of which, in number about 600[446], had been given by Humphrey Duke of Gloucester, between 1439 and 1446. His collection was that of a cultivated layman, and was comparatively poor in theological literature. Yet in this home of all that was noble in literature and splendid in art (for the Duke's copies are said to have been the finest that could be bought) did this crew of ignorant fanatics cry havoc, with such fatal success that only three MSS. now survive; and on January 25, 1555-56, certain members of the Senate were appointed "to sell, in the name of the University, the book-desks in the public library. The books had all disappeared; what need then to retain the shelves and stalls, when no one thought of replacing their contents, and when the University could turn an honest penny by their sale[447]?" I suppose that in those collegiate and cathedral libraries of which some fragments had been suffered to remain, the gaps caused by the destruction of manuscripts were slowly filled up by printed literature. No new bookcases would be required for many years; and in fact, nearly a century passed away before any novelty in the way of library-fittings makes its appearance. Further, when new libraries came to be built, the provision of suitable furniture was not easy. The old stall, with two shelves loaded with books attached to them by chains, and a desk and seat for the use of the reader, was manifestly no longer adequate, when books could be produced by the rapidity of a printing-press, instead of by the slowness of a writer's hand. And yet, as we shall see, ancient fashions lingered. So far as I know, the first library built and furnished under these new conditions in England was that of S. John's College, Cambridge. This "curious example of Jacobean Gothic[448]" was built between 1623 and 1628, at the sole charge of Bishop Williams, whose work at Westminster during the same period has been already recorded. The site selected was the ground between the second court of the college and the river, the library-building being constructed as a continuation of the north side of that court, with the library on the first floor, and the chambers intended for the Bishop's Fellows and Scholars on the ground floor. The room, after the fashion of the older libraries, is long and narrow, 110 ft. in length by 30 ft. in breadth. Each side-wall is pierced with ten lofty pointed windows of two lights with tracery in the head. The sills of these windows are raised 4 ft. above the floor, and the interval between each pair of windows is 3 ft. 8 in. There is also a western oriel, the foundations of which are laid in the river which washes its walls (fig. 109). The name of the founder is commemorated on the central gable by the letters I. L. C. S., the initials of _Johannes Lincolniensis Custos Sigilli_, the Bishop being at that time keeper of the Great Seal, or, as we should say, Lord Chancellor. The date 1624 marks the completion of the shell of the building[449]. [Illustration: Fig. 109. West oriel of the Library at S. John's College, Cambridge.] [Illustration: Fig. 110. Bookcases in the Library of S. John's College, Cambridge.] The beautiful fittings (fig. 110), which are still in use, were completed before 1628. Medieval arrangement was not wholly discarded, but various modern features were introduced. The side-walls and window-jambs are panelled to a height of 8 ft.; and the cornice of this panel-work is continuous with that of the taller cases--which, as in the older examples, stand at right angles to the walls between each pair of windows. Before these fittings were constructed, chaining had been practically abandoned, so that it was not necessary to provide either desk or seat. In the place, therefore, of the reader's seat, a low bookcase was set in front of each window. These cases were originally 5 ft. 6 in. high, with a sloping desk on the top on which books could be laid for study. Stools also were provided for the convenience of readers. The larger cases or, as the building-account of the library calls them, "the greater seats," have been a good deal altered in order to accommodate more books. Originally the plinth ran round the sides of the case; as did also the broad member which is seen on the end above the arches. By this arrangement there were in all only four shelves, namely, one below the broad member and three above it. Further, there was a pilaster in the middle, below the central bracket. It should be noted that the medieval habit of placing a list of the books contained in each case at the end of the case is here maintained. It might have been expected that these splendid cases would have invited imitation, and in those at Clare College the general style was undoubtedly copied. But, as I have already explained[450], those cases were originally genuine specimens of the stall-system, with desks. In other libraries, while a new style of bookcase was put up, we shall find no innovation comparable to that seen at S. John's. This was due, in great measure, to the medieval character of the rooms to be fitted up. The library at Peterhouse was lengthened in 1633. It is 75 ft. long by 25 ft. broad, and each of its side-walls is pierced by a range of three-light windows. The cases (fig. 111) were put up between 1641 and 1648. Like those at S. John's, they stand at right angles to the walls between the windows, but they are detached, and not continuous with the panelwork. Originally they were just eight feet high, but have since been heightened to accommodate more books. Each case is still divided by a central pilaster. So far they do not present any striking peculiarity, but I wish to draw attention to a curious contrivance, which we shall find subsequently reproduced in various forms, though not exactly as it is seen here; for these cases were evidently admired, and imitated in several other colleges. The chains had been taken off the books at Peterhouse in 1593-94, when they were first moved into the new library; so that desks attached to the cases were not required. Nor were lower cases, with desks at the top of them, provided. But the convenience of the reader was considered, up to a certain point, by the provision of a seat, 12 in. wide and 23 in. high, extending along the side of each case, and returned along the wall between it and the case next to it. This arrangement may still be seen in the two compartments at the west end of the room, one on each side of the door of entrance. The ends of the seat or 'podium,' are concealed by boldly carved wings[451]. [Illustration: Fig. 111. Bookcases in the Library of Peterhouse, Cambridge.] The convenience of this type of case was evidently recognised at once, for we find it copied, more or less exactly, in the south room of the University Library (1649); at Jesus College (1663); at Gonville and Caius College (1675); at Emmanuel College (1677); and at Pembroke College (1690). [Illustration: Fig. 112. Bookcases in the south room of the University Library, Cambridge.] The south room of the University Library, on the first floor, is 25 ft. wide and was originally 67 ft. long. It was lighted by eight windows in the north wall, and by nine windows in the south wall, each of two lights. There was also a window of four lights in the east gable, as we learn from Loggan's print, and probably a window in the west gable also[452]. It was entered by a door, in the north-east corner, approached by a "vice," or turret-stair. This door was fortunately left intact when the east building was erected in 1755. The room has been but little altered, and still preserves the beautiful roof, the contract for which is dated 25 June, 1466[453]. We do not know anything about the primitive fittings, but, having regard to the fact that the spaces between the windows are barely two feet wide, it is probable that they were lecterns. Moreover, a catalogue, dated 1473, enumerates eight stalls on the north side each containing on an average 21 books, and nine on the south side, each containing 18 books[454]. These numbers, compared with those mentioned above at Zutphen, indicate lecterns. In the next century this room was assigned to teaching purposes, and the lecterns were either removed or destroyed. In 1645 the University petitioned Parliament to put them in possession of Archbishop Bancroft's library, which he, by will dated 28 October, 1610, had bequeathed to the Public Library of the University of Cambridge, should certain other provisions not be fulfilled. The request was granted, 15 February, 1647, and the books arrived in 1649. The room in question, then used as the Greek School, was ordered, 3 September, 1649, to be "fitted for the disposeall of the said books" without delay. The existing cases were supplied at once, for Fuller, writing in the following year, speaks of them with commendation[455]. Their exact date is therefore known. These cases (fig. 112) are 8 ft. high from the floor to the top of the horizontal part of the cornice, and 22 in. broad. They have the central pilaster; but the seat has been cut down to a step, which is interrupted in the middle, so as to allow the central pilaster to rise directly from the ground. The wing, however, was too picturesque a feature to be discarded, so it was placed at the end of the step, and carried up, by means of a long slender prolongation, as far as the molding which separates the two panels on the end of the stall. These cases were exactly copied at Gonville and Caius College; and again at Emmanuel College; but in both those examples the step is continuous. At Jesus College the same type is maintained, with the central pilaster and continuous step; but the work is extremely plain, and there is neither wing nor pediment. At Pembroke College there is a further modification of the type. The step disappears, and, instead of it, a plinth extends along the whole length of the case. The wing, however, remains, as a survival of the lost step, and helps to give dignity to the base of the standard, which is surmounted by a semicircular pediment, beneath which is a band of fruit and flowers in high relief[456]. I will now describe a very interesting bookcase at King's College, Cambridge (fig. 113), which was put up in 1659, with a bequest from Nicholas Hobart, formerly Fellow[457]. It remains in its original position in one of the chapels on the south side of the choir, which were used for library-purposes till the present library was built by Wilkins in 1825. It has several details in common with those at S. John's College, as originally constructed, and will help us to understand their aspect before they were altered. There is a lofty plinth, a broad member interposed between the first and second shelf, a central vertical pilaster; and, as at Peterhouse, and elsewhere, a step or 'podium' with a wing. But, with these resemblances to cases in which books are arranged as at present, it is curious to find the usual indications of chaining, which we know from other sources was not given up in this library until 1777. There are locks on the end of the case just below each of the two shelves, and scars on the vertical pilasters caused by the attachment of the iron-work that carried the bar. Further, just below the broad band, a piece of wood of a different quality has been inserted into the pilasters, evidently to fill up a vacancy caused by the removal of some part of the original structure, probably a desk or shelf. The antiquary William Cole, writing in 1744, describes these chapels when used as libraries. Each chapel held five bookcases, "two at the extremities, which are but half-cases, and three in the body, of which the middlemost is much loftier than the rest." In the chapel fitted up by Hobart, Cole tells us that "at the end of the biggest middle class is wrote in gold letters LEGAVIT NICOLAUS HOBART 1659[458]." As the chapel is only 20 ft. long, the intervals between the cases could hardly have exceeded 2 ft., and as the books were chained they must have been consulted standing. [Illustration: Fig. 113. Bookcase in the old Library of King's College, Cambridge, made with the bequest of Nicholas Hobart, 1659.] A similar return to ancient forms is to be found in the library of Queen's College, Oxford, begun in 1692. The architect is said to have been Nicholas Hawkesmoore, to whom the fittings, put up in the first fourteen years of the eighteenth century[459], are also ascribed. This library is 123 ft. long by 30 ft. wide. There are ten bookcases on each side at right angles to the walls between the windows. Each case is about 11 ft. high, and 2 ft. 6 in. wide; but, though their ornamentation is in the style of the period, of which they are splendid examples, their general design exactly reproduces the old type. In their original state they were provided with desks, though there is no evidence that the books were chained; they had only two shelves above that which was on the level of the top of the desk; and there was a double seat between each pair of cases. The space above the second shelf, between it and the cornice, was occupied by a cupboard, handsomely ornamented with carved panels, for small books or manuscripts[460]. In fact, the only innovation which the designer of these remarkable cases permitted himself to employ was to make the moldings of their cornices continuous with that of the panelwork which he carried along the sides of the room, and into the jambs of the windows. The space below the desk was utilised for books, but, as these were found to be inconvenient of access, the desks and seats were taken away in 1871, and dwarf bookcases provided in front of the windows. When the Dean and Chapter of Canterbury built their library, now called the Howley-Harrison Library, in 1669-70, they constructed a room on strictly medieval lines. It is 65 ft. long by 21 ft. broad, with seven equidistant windows in the north wall and six in the south wall. The bookcases, which are plain medieval stalls, project from the walls at right angles between the windows. There is another class of libraries which must be briefly mentioned in this chapter, namely, those connected with parish churches and grammar-schools. I suppose that after the destruction of monastic libraries all over the country, the dearth of books would be acutely felt, and that gradually those who had the cause of education at heart established libraries in central situations, to which persons in quest of knowledge might resort. [Illustration: Fig. 114. Ground plan of Library, Grantham, Lincolnshire. Scale one quarter of an inch to one foot.] The library (fig. 114) at Grantham in Lincolnshire occupies a small room, 16 feet from north to south by 14 feet from east to west, over the south porch of the parish church, approached by a newel stair from the south aisle. It was founded in 1598 by the Reverend Francis Trigg, rector of Wellbourn; and in 1642, Edward Skipworth "out of his love and well-wishing to learning, and to encourage the vicars of Grantham to pursue their studies in the winter-time, gave fifty shillings, the yearly interest thereof to provide firewood for the library fire." From this language I conclude that the original gift of books was made for the benefit of the vicar for the time being. There are three bookcases set against the walls, each about 6 ft. high and 6 ft. long. A considerable number of the books still bear their chains, which are composed of long flat links closely resembling those at Guildford, with a ring and swivel next to the bar. The library--room, bookcases, and books--was carefully restored and repaired in 1894[461]. At Langley Marye or Marish in Buckinghamshire near Slough, a library was founded in 1623 by Sir John Kederminster "as well for the perpetual benefit of the vicar and curate of the parish of Langley, as for all other ministers and preachers of God's Word that would resort thither to make use of the books therein." He placed it under the charge of the four tenants of his almshouses, who were to keep safe the books, and the key of the room, under stringent penalties[462]. The library is a small room on the south side of the church, entered through the squire's pew, to which there is a separate door in the south wall. The fittings are of an unusual character, and have been preserved unaltered. The whole room is panelled at a distance of 15 in. from the wall, so as to make a series of cupboards, in which the books are contained. The doors of these cupboards are divided into panels, alternately square and oblong. Each of the former contains a small figure painted in colours on a black ground; each of the latter a shield, or some heraldic device. The inner surface of these doors is similarly divided into panels, on each of which is painted an open book. Above the cupboards, just under the flat ceiling, is a series of more or less imaginary landscapes, doing duty as a frieze. Over the fireplace is a very beautiful piece of decoration consisting of a large oval shield with various coats of arms painted on it. It is set in an oblong panel, in the spandrels of which are painted seated figures of Prudence, Justice, Temperance, Fortitude, with their emblems and suitable mottoes[463]. In 1629, the following entry occurs in what is called "the Church Book" of Cartmel, in Lancashire: 14 July, 1629. It is ordered and agreed upon that the churchwardens seate in the body of the churche shall be enlarged both in the wideness and in the deske that the bookes given unto the church may bee more convenientlie laid and chained to remain there according to the directions of the donors[464]. The will of Humphry Chetham, a wealthy merchant of Manchester, dated 16 December, 1651, directs £200 to be spent on certain specified books, to be, by the discretion of my Executors, chained upon Desks, or to be fixed to the Pillars, or in other convenient Places, in the Parish Churches of _Manchester_ and _Boulton in the Moors_, and in the Chapels of _Turton_, _Walmesley_, and _Gorton_, in the said County of _Lancaster_[465]. The bookcase at Gorton[466] is a cupboard of oak, 7 ft. long by 3 ft. high and 19 in. deep, raised upon four stout legs, 22 in. high. On opening the doors, the interior is seen to be divided into two equal parts by a vertical partition, and again by a horizontal shelf. The shelf and the partition are both 9 in. deep, so as to leave a considerable interval in front of them. The bars--of which there is one for each division--rest in a socket pierced in a small bracket screwed to each end of the case, in such a position that the bar passes just in front of the shelf. A flat piece of iron, nailed to the central division, carries a short hasp, which passes over the junction of the bars, and is there secured by a lock. By this arrangement no person could withdraw either bar without the key. The chains, of iron, tinned, are of the same type as those at Hereford, but the links are rather longer and narrower. They are attached to the volume in the same manner, either near the bottom of the right board, or near the top of the left board. There are scars on the lower edge of the case, and on the legs, which seem to indicate that there might once have been a desk. Otherwise, the books, when read, must have rested on the reader's knees. The whole piece of furniture closely resembles one dated 1694 at Bolton in Lancashire to be described below (fig. 116). The bookcase at Turton[467] resembles that at Gorton so closely that it needs no particular description. The doors are richly carved, and on the cornice above them is the following inscription, carved in low relief: THE GIFT OF HUMPHRY CHETHAM ESQVIRE. 1655. Besides these parochial libraries Mr Chetham directed the foundation (among other things) of "a Library within the Town of _Manchester_, for the Use of Scholars, and others well affected, to resort unto ... the same Books there to remain as a public Library for ever; and my Mind and Will is, that Care be taken, that none of the said Books be taken out of the said Library at any Time ... the same Books [to] be fixed or chained, as well as may be, within the said Library, for the better Preservation thereof." In order to carry out these provisions the executors bought an ancient building called the _College_, which is known to have been completed before 1426 by Thomas Lord de la Warre, as a college in connexion with the adjoining collegiate church, now the Cathedral[468]. The library was placed in two long narrow rooms on the first floor, the original destination of which is uncertain. They are at right angles to each other, and have a united length of 137 ft. 6 in., with a breadth of 17 ft. The south and west walls are pierced with fourteen three-light windows, probably inserted by Chetham's executors; the east and west walls are blank. The existing fittings, though they have been extensively altered[469] from time to time, are in the main those which were originally put up. The bookcases, of oak, are placed in medieval fashion at right angles to the windows. They are 10 ft. long, 2 ft. wide, and were originally 7 ft. high, but have been pieced apparently twice, so that they now reach as high as the wall-plate. Each pair of cases is 6 ft. apart, so as to make a small compartment, closed by wooden gates, which now open in the middle; but a lock attached to one side of the end of each case indicates that originally the gates were in one piece. The cases are quite plain, with the exception of a few panels at the end. On the uppermost of these, which is oblong, and extends from side to side of the case, the subjects of the works are written: as PHILOSOPHIA; and beneath, in smaller characters, _Mathematica_, _Physica_, _Metaphysica_. All indications of chaining have been obliterated, but a reference to the earliest account-book which has been preserved, that beginning 20 April, 1685, shews that the founder's directions were obeyed: 20 Apr. 1685. To James Wilson for Cheining ten books 0 2 6 " 1686. -------------- for making 26 large Claspes and Cheining 26 bookes 0 4 4 9 Mar. 1686-87. -------------- for Cheining and Clasping 12 doz. bookes 00 18 00 Chains were evidently kept as a part of the stock-in-trade of the library, to be used as required, for, at the end of an Inventory taken 18 November, 1684, we find: Alsoe in the Library two globes; three Mapps; two queres of larg paper to make tables; a paper fol-booke; A Ruleing penn; 24 dossen Chains; A geniological roul; and a larg serpent or snaks skin. [Illustration: Fig. 115. Ring and link of chain: Wimborne Minster.] At Wimborne Minster the books are placed in a small room, about fifteen feet square, over the vestry, a building in the Decorated style, situated between the south transept and the south aisle of the choir. Access to this room is obtained by a turret-stair at the south-west corner. It was fitted up as a library in 1686, when the greater part of the books were given by the Rev. William Stone. There are two plain wooden shelves, carried round three sides of the room. The chains are attached to the right-hand board of each book, instead of to the left-hand board, and they are made of iron wire, twisted as shewn in the sketch (fig. 115). The swivel, instead of being central, plays in a twist of the wire which forms the ring attached to the book. The iron bars are supported on eyes, and are secured by a tongue of iron passed over a staple fixed into the bracket which supports the shelf. The tongue was originally kept in its place by a padlock, now replaced by a wooden peg. No desk was attached to the shelves, but in lieu of it a portable desk and stool were provided[470]. A library was built over the porch of the parish church at Denchworth[471], Berks, in 1693, and "stocked with 100 books well secured with chains," presumably for the use of the vicar and his successors; and in 1715, William Brewster, M.D., bequeathed 285 volumes to the churchwardens of All Saints' Church, Hereford, for the same purpose[472]. The books were placed in the vestry, where they still are. They are all chained on a system copied from that in use at the Chapter Library. In addition to collections of books, which varied in extent according to the taste, or the means, of the donor, single volumes are often found chained in churches. These do not come within the scope of this Essay, and I will therefore pass on to notice some libraries connected with Grammar Schools. At Abingdon in Berkshire, the school, founded 1563, had a library, some volumes of which, bearing their chains, are still preserved. There was a similar collection at Bicester in Oxfordshire, where a school is said to have been in existence before 1570. In 1571 James Pilkington, Bishop of Durham (1561-1577), by will dated 4 February in that year, bequeathed his books to the school at Rivington in Lancashire. The following extracts from the statutes, said to have been made shortly after the arrival of the books, remind us of monastic provisions[473]. The Governors shall the first day of every quarter when they come to the School take an account of all such books as have been given to the School, and if any be picked away torn or written in they shall cause him that so misused it to buy another book as good and lay it in the place of it and there to be used continually as others be. The Schoolmaster and Usher whensoever the Scholars go from the School shall cause all such books as have been or shall be given to the School and occupied abroad that day to be brought into the place appointed for them, and there to be locked up; and every morning shall cause the dictionaries, or such other books as are meet to be occupied abroad by the Scholars, that have none of their own, to be laid abroad, and see that none use to write in them, pull out leaves, nor carry them from the School; and if any misuse any book, or pick it away, the Governours shall cause him to buy another as good, to be laid in the stead of it, and occupied as the other was. And for the books of divinity, the Schoolmaster and Usher and such as give themselves to study divinity, shall occupy them, that they may be the more able to declare any article of the catechism or religion to the scholars; and in the church to make some notes of the Chapters that be read that the people may better understand them and remember what is read. And yet these books they shall not carry out of the School, without license of the Governours, and on pain to bring it again, or else to buy one as good, in its stead, and to be allowed out of the Master's or Usher's wages. If any preacher come and desire to have the use of some of those books, they shall let him have the use of them for a time so that they see them brought in again; none other shall carry them from the School except they have license of half the Governours and be bound to bring it safe again. In 1573 John Parkhurst, Bishop of Norwich (1560-1575), bequeathed "the most part" of his Latin books to his native town Guildford, to be placed in "the Lybrarie of the same Towne ioyning to the Schole." These books, after some legal difficulties had been overcome, were brought to Guildford, and placed in a gallery which connected the two wings of the school, and had been begun in 1571. The books were fastened to the shelves with chains, one of which has been already figured (fig. 58). There is evidence that the library was well cared for, and augmented by various donations, which were regularly chained as they came in, down to the end of the 17th century[474]. Henry Bury, founder of the free school at Bury in Lancashire in 1625, directed in his will that a convenient place should be found for the library, because, as he proceeds to say: I have already geven ... in trust for the use of Bury Parish and the countrie therabouts, of ministers also at ther metinge and of schole maisters and others that seek for learninge and knowledge, above six hundreth bookes, and some other such things as I thought might helpe for their delight, and refresh students, as globes mappes pictures and some other things not every wheare to bee seene. This language shews that this provident benefactor intended his library to be public. It is pleasant to be able to record that some of the books which he gave are still in existence[475]. Lastly I will figure (fig. 116) the press given in 1694 by "James Leaver citison of London," to the Grammar School at Bolton in Lancashire. It closely resembles those given by Humphry Chetham to Turton and Gorton. The system of ironwork by which the bars are kept in place is exactly the same; and it retains the desk, traces of which exist at Gorton. In my enumeration of the libraries attached to schools and churches, I have drawn special attention to the fact that in nearly all of them the books were chained. In explanation of this it might be argued that these libraries were in remote places, to which new ideas would not easily penetrate, but I am about to shew that this method of protection, which began in a remote past, was maintained with strange persistency down to modern times. I shall collect some further instances of the chaining of books in places where it might have been expected that such things would be no longer thought of; and in conclusion I shall record some dates at which the final removal of chains took place. [Illustration: Fig. 116. Bookpress in the school at Bolton, Lancashire. From _Bibliographical Miscellanies_ by William Blades.] In the library of the Faculty of Medicine, Paris, the books were ordered to be chained in 1509, in consequence of some thefts; and these chains were still attached to certain books in 1770[476]. At Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, in 1554, it was ordered that the books bequeathed by Peter Nobys, D.D. (Master 1516-23), should be taken better care of for the future, and, if the chains were broken, that they should be repaired at the expense of the college[477]. In 1555, Robert Chaloner, Esq., bequeathed his law books to Gray's Inn, with forty shillings in money, to be paid to his cousin, "to th' entent that he maie by cheines therwith and fasten so manye of them in the Librarye at Grauisin [Gray's Inn] as he shall think convenyente[478]." At S. John's College, Cambridge, in 1563-4, three shillings were paid to "Phillip Stacyoner for cornering, bossing, and chayninge _Anatomiam Vessalii etc._[479]" In 1573, Dr Caius directs by will twelve copies of his own works to be given to his college, "there to be kepte as the other bokes are, and to be successivelye tyed with chaynes in the Librarye of the same College[480]." Dr Perne, Master of Peterhouse, by will dated 25 February, 1588, directs that all his books therein bequeathed "be layed and chayned in the old Librarie of the Colledge[481]." At Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1601, Mr Peter Shaw gave £5 towards the "cheyning and desking of his bookes given to the newe liberarie[482]." In 1638-9, when a new library was completed for the Barber Surgeons of London, £6. 18_s._ were spent on binding and chaining, as for instance: Paid for 36 yards of chaine at 4_d._ the yard and 36 yards at 3_d._ the yard cometh to xxij_s._ vj_d._ Paid to the coppersmith for castinge 80 brasses to fasten the chaines to the bookes--xiij_s._ iiij_d._[483] Sir Matthew Hale, who died in 1676, directed in his will that certain manuscripts should be given to the Honourable Society of Lincoln's Inn: "My desire," he said, "is that they be kept safe and also in remembrance of me. They were fit to be bound in leather and chained and kept in archives[484]." In the will of Matthew Scrivener, Rector of Haslingfield in Cambridgeshire, dated 4 March, 1687, the following passage occurs: "I give fifty pounds in trust for the use of the public Library [at Cambridge], either by buying chains for the securing the books at present therein contained, or for the increase of the number of them[485]." At the church of S. Gatien at Tours it is recorded in 1718 that the library which occupied one alley of the cloister was well stocked with manuscripts, chained on desks, which stood both against the wall and in the middle of the room[486]. Lastly, in 1815, John Fells, mariner, gave £30 to found a theological library in the church of S. Peter, Liverpool. "The books were originally fastened to open shelves in the vestry with rods and chains[487]." Towards the end of the eighteenth century the practice was finally abandoned. At Eton College in 1719 it was "Order'd to take y^e Chains off y^e Books in y^e Library, except y^e Founder's Manuscripts[488]"; at the Bodleian Library, Oxford, the removal of them began in 1757[489]; at King's College, Cambridge, the books were unchained in 1777[490]; at Brasenose College, Oxford, in 1780[491]; and at Merton College in 1792[492]. In France the custom was evidently abandoned at a much earlier date, for the authors of the _Voyage Littéraire_, who visited more than eight hundred monasteries at the beginning of the eighteenth century, with the special intention of examining their records and their libraries, rarely allude to chaining, and when they do mention it, they use language which implies that it was a curious old fashion, the maintenance of which surprised them[493]. FOOTNOTES: [443] _The laboryouse Journey and Serche of Johan Leylande for Englandes Antiquitees...._ by Johan Bale. London, 1549. [444] _History and Antiquities of University of Oxford_, Ed. Gutch, 410. 1796, Vol. II. p. 106. Wood (b. 1632, d. 1695) gives these facts as "credibly reported from antient men and they while young from scholars of great standing." [445] _Ibid._ Vol. II. Pt. 2, p. 918. [446] This number is given on the authority of Macray, _Annals of the Bodleian Library_, Ed. II. p. 6. [447] Macray, _ut supra_, p. 13. [448] These words were used by Professor Willis, _Arch. Hist._ Vol. III. p. 451. [449] For the history of this building see Professor Willis, _ut supra_, Vol. II. pp. 264-271. [450] See above p. 186. [451] _Arch. Hist._ ut supra, Vol. I. p. 33, and Vol. III. p. 454. [452] When the new façade was built in the middle of the 18th century this room was shortened by about 8 feet, so that now there are only 8 windows on the south side and 7½ on the north side. [453] The contract is printed and explained in _Arch. Hist._ Vol. III. pp. 92-6. [454] _Camb. Ant. Soc. Proc._ Vol. II. p. 258. The catalogue is printed, with remarks, by H. Bradshaw, M.A., University Librarian. It should be noted that on the south side of the room, the first case only is called 'stall,' the remaining eight are called 'desks.' [455] _History of University of Cambridge_, ed. Prickett and Wright, p. 160. See also _Arch. Hist._ Vol. III. p. 27. [456] These descriptions are all borrowed from Professor Willis, _Arch. Hist._ Vol. III. pp. 454-458, 460, 465. [457] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. I. p. 538. [458] _Arch. Hist._ I. p. 539. [459] This date is given on the authority of the present Provost, John Richard Magrath, D.D. [460] A view of the Library in its original state is given in Ingram's _Memorials_, Queen's College, p. 12. An article in _Notes and Queries_, 6th Ser. IV. 442, by the Rev. Robert Lowes Clarke, M.A., Fellow and Librarian, contains the following passage: "The bookcases were fitted with reading desks, as at the Bodleian, and there were fixed oak seats in each recess. These were convenient in some ways, and helped to make the room seem a place for study rather than a store for materials, but they made the lower shelves hard of access, and were removed in 1871 to give room for new cases." [461] For these details I have to thank the late Canon H. Nelson. I visited Grantham in 1895 with my friend Mr. T. D. Atkinson, architect, who drew the above plan. [462] _Report of Comm. for Inquiring concerning Charities_, Vol. II. pp. 95-100. [463] This description of the library is partly from my own notes, taken 7 July, 1901, partly from Hornby's _Walks about Eton_, 1894. [464] _Old Church and School Libraries of Lancashire_, by R. C. Christie, Chetham Soc., 1885, p. 76. [465] _The last will of Humphry Chetham_, 4to. Manchester, n. d. p. 42. [466] This bookcase stood in the National School-room when I examined it in 1885. In 1898 the books were thoroughly repaired. [467] The front of this bookcase is figured on the title-page of _Bibliographical notices of the Church Libraries at Turton and Gorton_. Chetham Soc., 1855, p. 3. [468] The architectural history of these buildings has been admirably worked out, in _Old Halls in Lancashire and Cheshire_, by Henry Taylor, Architect, 4to. Manchester, 1884, pp. 31-46. [469] These alterations probably began when the following Order was made: "Tuesday, 24 July, 1787. That a Committee be appointed to inspect the Library along with the Librarian, consisting of the Treasurer [etc.]; And that such Committee shall have power to repair and make such Alterations in the Library as they may think proper." No Order for taking off the chains has been discovered. [470] _Sketches of English Literature_, by Clara Lucas Balfour, 12mo. Lond. 1852. Introduction. In the description of the library there given the padlocks are specially mentioned. Compare also, _A History of Wimborne Minster_, 8vo. Lond. 1860; and Hutchins' _Dorsetshire_, ed. 1803, Vol. II. p. 554. [471] _Notes and Queries_, Series 6, Vol. IV. p. 304. The library was destroyed in 1852 when the Church was restored by Mr George Street, Architect. [472] _The History of All Saints' Church, Hereford_, by Rev. G. H. Culshaw, M.A., 8vo. Hereford, 1892. [473] _Old Church and School Libraries of Lancashire_, by R. C. Christie, Chetham Soc., 1885, p. 189. [474] _Cam. Ant. Soc. Proc. and Comm._ Vol. VIII. pp. 11-18. In 1899 the books which remained were put in order and set on new shelves by the care and at the cost of H. A. Powell, Esq. [475] _Old Church and School Libraries of Lancashire_, by R. C. Christie, Chetham Soc. p. 139. [476] Franklin, _Anc. Bibl._ Vol. II. p. 25. [477] Masters, _History_, p. 62. [478] _The Guild of the Corpus Christi, York_, ed. Surtees Society, 1872, p. 206, _note_. [479] S. John's College Audit-Book, 1563-4, _Exp. Necess._ [480] _Commiss. Docts._ (Cambridge), II. 309. [481] _Arch. Hist._ III. 454. [482] Sen. Burs. Accounts, 1600-1, _Recepta_. [483] _Memorials of the Craft of Surgery in England_, ed. D'Arcy Power. 8vo. London 1886, p. 230. [484] Herbert, _Inns of Court_, p. 303. [485] _Documents relating to St Catharine's College_, ed. H. Philpott, D.D., p. 125. [486] _Voyage Liturgique de la France_, by Le Sieur de Moléon, 1718. I have to thank Dr James for this reference. [487] _Old Church Libraries_, _ut supra_, p. 102. [488] Eton College Minute Book, 19 December, 1719. [489] Macray, _ut supra_, p. 86. The inconvenience of chaining had long been felt for in _The Foreigner's Companion through the Universities_, by Mr Salmon, 1748, it is objected that "the books being chain'd down, there is no bringing them together even in the Library," p. 27. [490] King's College Mundum Book, 1777: _Smith's work_. "To a man's time 9 Dayes to take the Chains of the books £1. 7_s._ 0_d._" [491] Churton's _Lives of Smyth and Sutton_, p. 311, _note_. [492] Henderson's _History_, p. 237. [493] _Voy. Litt._, ed. 1724, Vol. III. p. 24. CHAPTER VIII. THE WALL-SYSTEM. THIS BEGAN ON THE CONTINENT. LIBRARY OF THE ESCÕRIAL. AMBROSIAN LIBRARY AT MILAN. LIBRARY OF CARDINAL MAZARIN. BODLEIAN LIBRARY AT OXFORD. WORKS AND INFLUENCE OF WREN. FRENCH CONVENTUAL LIBRARIES OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY. While in England we were struggling with the difficulties of adapting medieval forms of libraries and bookcases to the ever-increasing number of volumes, a new system was initiated on the continent, which I propose to call the wall-system. It seems so natural to us to set our bookshelves against a wall instead of at right angles to it, that it is difficult to realize that there was a time when such an arrangement was an innovation. Such however was the case. I believe that this principle was first introduced into a library at the Escõrial, which Philip the Second of Spain began in 1563, and completed 13 September, 1584. I do not mean by this sentence that nobody ever set bookshelves against a wall before the third quarter of the sixteenth century. I have shewn above, when discussing the catalogue of Dover Priory[494], that the books stood on pieces of furniture which were probably so treated; and it is not uncommon in illuminated manuscripts to see a writer's books standing on one or more shelves set against the wall near his desk. Further, in the accounts of the library arranged in the Vatican by Sixtus IV., shelves set against the wall of one of the four rooms are specially mentioned[495]; and in the description of the library of the Dukes of Urbino, it is expressly stated that "the shelves for the books are set against the walls (_le scanzie de' libri sono accostate alle mura_)[496]." What I wish to enforce is that before the Escõrial was built, no important library was fitted up in that manner from the beginning by the architect. [Illustration: Fig. 118. Bookcases in the Library of the Escõrial on an enlarged scale.] [Illustration: Fig. 117. General view of the Library of the Escõrial, looking north.] The library of the Escõrial[497] occupies a commanding position over the portico through which the building is entered. It is 212 ft. long, by 35 ft. broad and about 36 ft. high. The roof is a barrel-vault, gorgeously painted in fresco, as are the wall-spaces above the bookcases, and the semicircular lunettes at the ends of the room. In that at the north end is Philosophy, in that at the south end is Theology, while between them are personifications of Grammar, Rhetoric, Logic, Music, etc. On the walls, forming a gigantic frieze, are various historical scenes, and figures of celebrated persons real and imaginary, as for instance, the first Nicene Council, the School of Athens, Solomon and the Queen of Sheba, Cicero, David, Orpheus, etc. The general appearance of this splendid room will be understood from the view (fig. 117). It is lighted by five windows on the east side and seven on the west side, to which is added on the east side a range of five smaller windows just under the vault. The principal windows are quite different from those of any other library I have been considering, for they are nearly 13 ft. high, and extend down to the floor. The wall-spaces between each pair of windows have bookcases fitted to them, of a very original and striking design. They are divided into compartments by fluted Doric columns supporting an entablature with projecting cornice, above which again is a sort of second entablature. The bases of the columns rest upon an extremely lofty plinth, intersected, at about three-quarters of its height from the ground, by a shelf, behind which is a sloping desk. The material used for these cases is mahogany, inlaid with ebony, cedar, and other woods. They were designed by Juan de Herrera, the architect of the building, in 1584, and I am assured that they have escaped alteration, or serious damage from the numerous fires which have occurred in the palace. In order to exhibit the distinctive peculiarities of these remarkable cases as clearly as possible, I give (fig. 118) an enlargement of part of the former view; and further, an elevation of one of them drawn accurately to scale (fig. 119), for which I have to thank a Spanish architect, Don Ricardo Velasquez. These bookcases have a total height of rather more than 12 ft, measured from the floor to the top of the cornice. The desks are 2 ft. 7 in. from the floor, a height which corresponds with that of an ordinary table, and suggests that they must have been intended for the use of seated readers, though seats are not provided in the library at present. The section of the shelf and desk placed beside the elevation shews that there is a convenient slope to lay the books against. The uppermost of the four shelves is at a height of 9 ft. from the ground, so that a ladder is required to reach the books. The two photographs which I have reproduced (figs. 117, 118) shew that they have the fore-edge turned outwards, according to what is, I am informed, the usual custom in Spain. [Illustration: Fig. 119. Elevation of a bookcase, and section of a desk in the Library of the Escõrial.] [Illustration: Fig. 121. Interior of the Ambrosian Library at Milan. From a photograph taken in 1899.] I believe that the work done in the Escõrial had a very definite effect on library-fittings elsewhere; but, like other important inventions, the scheme of setting shelves against a wall instead of at right angles to it occurred to more than one person at about the same period; and therefore I cannot construct a genealogical tree, as I once thought I could, with the Escõrial at the root, and a numerous progeny on the branches. Between 1603 and 1609--only 25 years afterwards--Cardinal Federigo Borromeo built, endowed, and furnished the Biblioteca Ambrosiana at Milan. A plain Ionic portico, on the cornice of which are the words BIBLIOTHECA AMBROSIANA, gives access to a single hall, on the ground floor, 74 ft. long by 29 ft. broad (fig. 120). The walls are lined with bookcases about 13 ft. high, separated, not by columns, but by flat pilasters, and protected by wire-work of an unusually large mesh, said to be original. At each corner of the hall is a staircase, leading to a gallery, 2 ft. 6 in. wide. The cases in this gallery are about 8 ft. 6 in. high. Above them again is a frieze consisting of a series of portraits of saints in oblong frames. The roof is a barrel-vault, ornamented with plaster-work. Light is admitted through two enormous semi-circular windows at each end of the room. No alteration, I was informed when I visited the library in 1898, has been permitted. Even the floor of plain tiles, with four tables (one at each corner), and a central brazier, is left as the Cardinal arranged it. [Illustration: Fig. 120. Ground-plan of the Ambrosian Library at Milan. Reduced from that given by P. P. Boscha.] A good idea of the appearance of this noble room will be obtained from the general view (fig. 121)[498]. The way in which the books were arranged was evidently thought remarkable at the time, for a contemporary writer says of it "the room is not blocked with desks to which the books are tied with iron chains after the fashion of the libraries which are common in monasteries, but it is surrounded with lofty shelves on which the books are sorted according to size[499]." This library was part of a larger scheme which included a college of doctors, a school of art, a museum, and a botanic garden; all of which were amply endowed. The library was to be open not merely to members of the college, but to the citizens of Milan and all strangers who came to study there; but the severest penalties awaited those who stole a volume, or even touched it with soiled hands; and only the Pope himself could absolve them from such crimes[500]. Before many years were over these novelties in library arrangement and library administration found a ready welcome in France, where Cardinal Mazarin was engaged in the formation of a vast collection of books intended to surpass that of his predecessor Richelieu[501]. Even then his library was public; all who chose to come might work in it on Thursdays from 8 to 11 in the morning, and from 2 to 5 in the afternoon. At a later period of his life, when he had removed to a palace now included in the Bibliothèque Nationale, he was able to build a library in accordance with his magnificent ideas. An accident of construction placed this room over the stables, a conjunction which afforded endless amusement to the pamphleteers of the time. It was finished at the end of 1647; and in the following year the Cardinal threw it open, the first public library given to Paris. _Publicè patere voluit, censu perpetuo dotavit, posteritati commendavit_, said the inscription which he placed over the door of entrance. I need not attempt to recover from the somewhat conflicting accounts of admiring contemporaries the exact dimensions and arrangements of this gallery, for the bookcases still exist almost unaltered in the Bibliothèque Mazarine. One detail deserves notice because it may have been borrowed from the Ambrosian Library. There is said to have been a staircase in each of the four corners of the room by which access to a gallery was obtained[502]. [Illustration: Fig. 122. Bookcases in the Bibliothèque Mazarine, Paris. From a photograph by Dujardin, 1898.] Mazarin died in 1661, and, in accordance with his will, a college, to be called _Le Collège des Quatre Nations_, was founded and endowed, and the library was removed into it. The college was suppressed at the Revolution, and the buildings are now occupied by the _Institut de France_, but the library remains practically intact. It occupies two rooms at right angles to each other with a united length of about 158 ft., and a width of 27 ft. They are admirably lighted by 17 large windows. The bookcases (fig. 122), from the original library in the Palais Mazarin, were placed round the new room. At first they terminated with the cornice, surmounted by the balustrade which protected the gallery mentioned above, and the roof was arched. In 1739, when additional shelf-room was required, and the roof was in need of repair, it was agreed to construct the present flat ceiling, and to gain thereby wall-space of sufficient height to accommodate 20,000 additional books. The gallery thus formed is approached by two staircases constructed at the same time[503]. If the elevation of these cases (fig. 123) be compared with that of the cases in the Escõrial (fig. 119), I feel sure that my readers will agree with me in admitting that the French example was copied from the Spanish. The general arrangement is the same, and especially the really distinctive features, namely, the division by columns, and the presence of a desk. It will be observed that the French example is the larger of the two, being 18 ft. high from the floor to the top of the cornice. The desk, moreover, is 4 ft. from the floor, so that it was evidently intended to be used standing. I am aware that Naudé, the librarian employed by Mazarin to collect books for him, did not visit Spain, nor was Mazarin himself ever in that country. There is therefore no evidence to connect his library with that of Philip II., but in justification of my theory I submit that the resemblance is too close to be accidental, and that in all probability the library at the Escõrial had been much talked of in the world of letters. [Illustration: Fig. 123. Elevation of a bookcase and section of a desk in the Bibliothèque Mazarine, Paris.] The convenience of placing book-shelves against a wall was soon accepted in England, but at first in a somewhat half-hearted fashion. The earliest instance of this, so far as I know, is to be met with in the Bodleian Library, Oxford, where the first stone of the eastern wing was laid in 1610, and completed, with the fittings, in 1612[504]. [Illustration: Fig. 124. A portion of the bookcases set up in the eastern wing of the Bodleian Library, Oxford, built 1610-1612. From Loggan's _Oxonia Illustrata_, 1675.] Advantage was taken of the whole of the wall-space provided by this extension, and it was lined with a bookcase extending from floor to ceiling. In order to provide easy access to the upper shelves, a light gallery was provided, the pillars of which were utilised to support a seat for the readers, because, the books being still chained, desks and seats were indispensable. These cases still exist almost unaltered, but their appearance as first constructed has been preserved to us in Loggan's print, taken about 1675, part of which is here reproduced (fig. 124). In 1634 (13 May) the first stone was laid of the enlargement of the library towards the west, corresponding exactly to the wing at the opposite end erected twenty-four years before[505]. The fittings were on the same plan, but of a more elaborate and highly finished design, the plain supports of the former work being replaced by Ionic columns supporting arches with frieze and cornice, and a heavy balustrade for the gallery above. I now come to the influence exercised upon the architecture and fittings of libraries by Sir Christopher Wren, and I shall be able to shew that though he did not actually introduce the wall-system into England, he developed it, adapted it to our requirements, and by the force of his genius shewed what structural changes were necessary in order to meet the increased number of books to be accommodated. Wren never visited Italy, but in 1665 he spent about six months in Paris, where he made the acquaintance of the best painters, sculptors, and architects, among whom was the Italian Bernini. From him he might easily obtain information of what was passing in Italy, though he describes him as "the old reserved Italian" who would hardly allow him a glimpse of a design for which, says Wren, "I would have given my skin." French work he studied enthusiastically, and after giving a list of places he had visited says, "that I might not lose the impressions of them I shall bring you almost all France in paper." Among other things he specially records his admiration for what he terms "the masculine furniture of the Palais Mazarin," though he does not specially mention the library; but, as Mazarin had died four years before, his palace would have been practically dismantled, and the only furniture likely to attract Wren's attention would have been his bookcases[506]. [Illustration: Fig. 125. Entrance to Wren's Library at Lincoln Cathedral, with part of the bookcase which lines the north wall.] The first piece of library work executed by Wren in England was at Lincoln Cathedral, 1674, where after the Restoration a new library was required. Dr Michael Honywood, who had been appointed Dean in 1660, offered to build one at his own cost, and to present to it the books which he had collected in Holland. The site selected was that formerly occupied by the north alley of the cloister, which, through faulty construction, had fallen down, and lain in ruins for a long period. The building consists of an arcade of nine semicircular arches supported on eight Doric columns. The upper storey, containing the library, has eleven windows in a similar classical style, and above there is a bold entablature ornamented with acanthus leaves. The library is 104 ft. long by 17 ft. 6 in. wide and 14 ft. high; the ceiling is flat and perfectly plain. In addition to the windows above mentioned there is another at the west end. The entrance is at the east end through a richly ornamented door (fig. 125). The shield in the centre of the pediment bears the arms of Dean Honywood. Wren placed a continuous bookcase along the north wall of this room, extending from floor to ceiling. At the base there is a plinth (fig. 125), which may have originally contained cupboards, but is now fitted with shelves; and at the top, close to the ceiling, there is a heavy entablature decorated with acanthus leaves and classical moldings above a plain cornice, which bears at intervals oblong tablets inscribed with the subjects of the books beneath. The shelves are disposed in compartments, alternately wide and narrow, the former being set slightly in advance of the latter, so as to break the monotony of a bookcase of uniform width extending the whole length of a long room. While this work was proceeding Wren planned the New Library for Trinity College, Cambridge[507], begun 23 February, 1675-6. His design is accompanied by an explanation, contained in a rough draught of a letter to some gentleman of Trinity College, probably the Master. It is not signed, but internal evidence shews that it must have been written or dictated by Wren. This library was placed on a cloister, open both to the east and to the west, at the end of Nevile's Court. The level of the library floor was made to correspond with that of the first floor of the chambers on the north and south sides of the court. This is shewn in Wren's design, part of which is here reproduced (fig. 126), and explained in the following passage of his memoir. [Illustration: Fig. 126. Part of Wren's elevation of the east side of the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, with a section of the north range of Nevile's Court, shewing the door to the Library from the first floor.] [The design] shewes the face of the building next the court with the pavillions for the stairecases and the Sections of the old buildings where they joyne to the new.... I haue given the appearance of arches as the Order required fair and lofty: but I haue layd the floor of the Library upon the impostes, which answar (_sic_) to the pillars in the cloister and the levells of the old floores, and haue filled the Arches with relieues of stone, of which I haue seen the effect abroad in good building, and I assure you where porches are lowe with flat ceelings is infinitely more gracefull then lowe arches would be and is much more open and pleasant, nor need the mason freare (_sic_) the performance because the Arch discharges the weight, and I shall direct him in a firme manner of executing the designe. [Illustration: Fig. 127. Elevation of one bay on the east side of the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, drawn to scale from the existing building.] By this contrivance the windowes of the Library rise high and giue place for the deskes against the walls, and being high may be afforded to be large, and being wide may haue stone mullions and the glasse pointed, which after all inventions is the only durable way in our Climate for a publique building, where care must be had that snowe driue not in.... The general design seems to have been borrowed from that of the Library of S. Mark at Venice, begun by Sansovino in 1536. The Italian architect, like Sir Christopher Wren, raised his library on a cloister, which is in the Doric style, while the superstructure is Ionic. The Venetian example is more ornate, and there are statues upon every pier of the balustrade. The arcades are left open, because there was not the same necessity for accommodating the level of the floor to that of older buildings, and also because the wall opposite to the windows had to be left blank on account of the proximity of other structures. No consideration for fittings such as influenced Wren could have influenced the Italian architect. The style of Wren's work will be understood from the elevation of a bay on the east side (fig. 127), drawn to scale from the existing building. If this be compared with the original design (fig. 126), it will be seen that the style there indicated has been closely followed. We will now consider the fittings. A long stretch of blank wall having been provided both along the sides and at the ends of the room, Wren proceeded to design a masterly combination of the old and new methods of arranging bookcases. As he says in another passage of the same memoir, when describing this part of his design: The disposition of the shelues both along the walls and breaking out from the walls ... must needes proue very convenient and gracefull, and the best way for the students will be to haue a litle square table in each Celle with 2 chaires. The necessity of bringing windowes and dores to answer to the old building leaues two squarer places at the endes and 4 lesser Celles not to study in, but to be shut up with some neat Lattice dores for archives. The bookcases, designed by himself, were executed under his direction by Cornelius Austin, a Cambridge workman. My illustration (fig. 128) shews one of the "4 lesser Celles" with one of its doors open, and next to it a "Celle" for students with table, revolving desk, and two stools. These pieces of furniture were also designed by Wren. [Illustration: Fig. 128. Interior of the north-east corner of the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge, shewing the bookcases, table, desk and chairs, as designed by Sir C. Wren.] The cases are 11 ft. 10 in. high, and the wooden floor upon which they stand is raised higher than that of the library. The great depth of the plinth, which Wren utilised for cupboards, recalls the plan of some of the older cases, and there is the little cupboard to contain the catalogue at the end of each standard; but, with these exceptions, there is nothing medieval about them except their position. On the top of each case is a square pedestal of wood on which Wren intended to place a statue, but this part of his scheme was not carried out. The celebrated Grinling Gibbons supplied the busts which take the place of Wren's statues, and also the coats of arms and wreaths of flowers and fruit with which the ends of the cases are decorated. It is difficult to decide the source from which an architect so great as Wren derived any feature of his buildings, but it seems to me reasonable to ascribe to foreign influence his use of the side-walls at Trinity College library; and his scheme for combining a lofty internal wall with beauty of external design, and a complete system of lighting, must always command admiration. In the next example of his library work foreign influence may be more directly traced, for I feel that the library of S. Paul's Cathedral suggests reminiscences of the Ambrosian library at Milan. Wren placed the library of his new cathedral in the western transept, with an ingenuity of contrivance and a dignity of conception peculiarly his own. On the level of what in a Gothic church would have been the triforium, he constructed, both on the north and south side, a large and lofty room. It was his intention that each of these rooms should be used as a library, and that they should be connected by means of the gallery which crosses the west end of the nave. Access to them was to be obtained from the exterior, without entering the church, by a circular staircase in the south-west corner of the façade. This plan has not been fully carried out, and the southern library only has been fitted up. It is now usually reached by means of the staircase leading to the dome. These arrangements will be understood from the ground-plan (fig. 129)[508]. This plan shews very clearly the library itself, the two circular staircases at the west end, leading up to the gallery, the wide geometrical staircase leading down to the portico, the corridor into which this staircase opens, and from which a visitor could either ascend by a flight of stairs to the gallery crossing the nave, or, turning to his right, either enter the library, or pass eastwards towards the dome. [Illustration: Fig. 129, Ground plan of Library and adjacent parts of S. Paul's Cathedral, London.] [Illustration: Fig. 130. Sir Christopher Wren's Library at S. Paul's Cathedral, London, looking north-east.] The library (fig. 130) is a well-lighted room, with an area measuring 53 ft. by 32 ft, and of sufficient height to admit of the introduction of a gallery under the vault. A massive stone pier projects into the room at each corner, so as to break the formal regularity of the design in a very pleasing manner. The gallery, together with the bookcases, which stand against the walls, both in the gallery and below it, were either designed by Wren himself, or placed there with his approval. The Building Accounts[509] contain many valuable pieces of information respecting the history of the room and its fittings. The floor "in the south library" was laid down in July, 1708, as was also that in the gallery; the windows "in the north and south library," words which shew very clearly that the corresponding room on the north side was also intended for a library, were painted in December, 1708; and the ornamental woodwork was supplied in March, 1708-9. From the entries referring to these works I will quote the following, as it particularises the most striking feature in the room, namely, the large ornamental brackets which appear to support the gallery: To Jonathan Maine Carver in the South Library, viz. For carving 32 Trusses or Cantalivers under the Gallary, 3 ft. 8 in. long, and 3 ft. 8 in. deep and 7 in. thick with Leather worke cut through and a Leaf in the front and a drop hanging down with fruit and flowers etc. at 6^l. 10^s. each. 208^l.---- The words "leather work," used in the above entry, are singularly suitable, for the whole composition looks more like something molded out of leather or plaster than cut out of a solid piece of wood. The vertical portion, applied to the pilasters, consists of a bunch of flowers, hops, and corn, somewhat in the manner of Grinling Gibbons, who has been often named as the artist. The above-mentioned pilasters divide the wall-space into 33 compartments, each of which is from 3 ft. 6 in. to 4 ft. wide, and 9 ft. high, exclusive of the plinth and cornice, and fitted with six shelves, which are apparently at the original levels. The gallery is approached by a staircase contrived in the thickness of the south-west pier. It is 5 ft. wide, and fitted with bookcases ranged against the wall in the same manner as those below, but they are loftier, and of plainer design. The balustrade, a molded cornice of wood, supported on pilasters of the same material, which recall those separating the compartments below, and the great stone piers, enriched with a broad band of fruit, flowers, and other ornaments set in a sunk panel, are striking features of this gallery. The material used throughout for the fittings is oak, which fortunately has never been painted, and has assumed a mellow tone through age which produces a singularly beautiful effect. If we now return to Cambridge, we shall find that the influence of Wren can easily be traced in all the library fittings put up in the course of the 18th century. The first work of this kind undertaken was the provision of additional fittings to the library of Emmanuel College[510] between 1702 and 1707. The tall cases, set up at right angles to the walls in 1679, were moved forward, and shelves in continuation of them were placed against the side-walls. The same influence is more distinctly seen in the library of S. Catharine's Hall[511], which was fitted up, according to tradition, at the expense of Thomas Sherlock, D.D., probably while Master, an office which he held from 1714 to 1719. The room is 63 ft. 6 in. long by 22 ft. 10 in. wide; and it is divided by partitions into a central portion, about 39 ft. long, and a narrow room at each end, 12 ft. long. Each of these latter is lighted by windows in the north and south walls; the former has windows in the south wall only. The central portion is divided into three compartments by bookcases which line the walls, and project from them at right angles; in the two smaller rooms the cases only line the walls, the space being too narrow for any other treatment. When the building of the new Senate House had set free the room called the Regent House, in which the University had been in the habit of meeting from very early times, it was fitted up, between 1731 and 1734, as part of the University Library[512]. Wren's example was followed as far as the nature of the room would permit. Wherever a blank wall could be found, it was lined with shelves, and the cases placed at right angles to the side-walls were continued over the narrow spaces left between their ends and the windows. One of these cases, from the south side of the room, is here shewn (fig. 131). The shelves under the windows were added subsequently. A similar arrangement was adopted for the east room in 1787-90. At Clare College, at about the same date, the new library over the kitchen was fitted up with shelves placed against the walls. These fittings are excellent specimens, ornamented with fluted Ionic pilasters, an elaborate cornice, and pediments above the doors. It is worth noting, as evidence of the slowness with which new fashions are accepted, that the antiquary William Cole, writing in 1742, calls this library "a very large well-proportion'd Room à la moderne, w^th ye Books rang'd all round it & not in Classes as in most of y^e rest of y^e Libraries in other Colleges[513]." [Illustration: Fig. 131. Bookcase in the north room of the University Library, Cambridge, designed by James Essex, 1731-1734.] The fashion of which I have been tracing the progress in England had been accepted during the same period in France, where some beautiful specimens of it may still be seen. I presume that the example was set by the wealthy convents, most of which had been rebuilt, at least in part, in the then fashionable classical style, during the seventeenth century[514]. At Rheims a library fitted up by the Benedictines of Saint Remi in 1784 now does duty as the chapel of the Hôtel-Dieu. Fluted Corinthian columns supporting an elaborate cornice divide the walls into compartments, in which the books are ranged on open shelves. The room is 120 ft. long, by 31 ft. broad, with four windows on each side. With this may be compared the public library at Alençon, the fittings of which are said to have been brought from the abbey of the Val Dieu near Mortain at the Revolution. The room is 70 ft. long by 25 ft. wide. Against the walls are 26 compartments or presses, alternately open and closed. Each of these terminates in an ogee arch enriched with scrolls and a central shield. The whole series is surmounted by a cornice divided by console brackets, between which are shields, probably intended originally to carry the names of the subjects of the books. [Illustration: Fig. 132. Interior of the Library of the Jesuits at Rheims, now the _Lingerie de l'Hôpital Général_.] Lastly, I must mention the libraries of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette at Versailles. The walls are lined with a double row of presses, each closed by glass doors. The lower row is about four feet high, the upper row about ten feet high. The wood-work is painted white, and enriched with wreaths of leaves in ormolu. As a general rule the books are hidden from view by curtains of pleated silk. I mentioned in a previous chapter[515] that additional space was provided for the library in a French monastery by raising the roof of an existing building, putting in dormer windows, and converting the triangular space so gained into a library by placing in it bookcases of a convenient height, and connecting them together by a ceiling. I have fortunately discovered one such library still in existence at Rheims. It belonged originally to the Jesuits, who had constructed it about 1678, and when the Order was expelled from France in 1764, and their House became the workhouse (_hôpital général_) of the town, it was fortunately made use of as the _lingerie_, or linen-room, without any material change. Even the table has been preserved. The view here presented of the interior (fig. 132) may serve to give a general idea, not merely of this library, but of others of the same class. The decoration of the ceiling is coarse but effective. On the coved portion of it, within the shields, are written the subjects of the books on the shelves beneath. I made a list of these and have printed them on the margin of my ground-plan (fig. 133). This plan also shews the arrangement of the bookcases. They are placed at a distance of five feet from the walls, and are returned to meet each window, thus forming convenient bays for private study. The space between the bookcases and the wall was used as a store-room[516]. [Illustration: Fig. 133. Ground-plan of the Library of the Jesuits at Rheims. The Bibliothèque Sainte-Geneviève, at Paris, offered originally a splendid example of a library arranged in this manner. It consisted of two galleries, at right angles to each other, fitted up in the same style as the library at Rheims. The longest of these galleries was 147 ft. long by 24 ft. wide. The guidebooks prepared for the use of visitors to Paris in the middle of the 18th century dwell with enthusiasm on the convenience and beauty of this room. The books were protected by wire-work; between each pair of cases was a bust of a Roman emperor or an ancient philosopher; at the crossing of the two galleries was a dome which seemed to be supported on a palm-tree in plaster-work at each corner, out of the foliage of which peered the heads of cherubs; while the convenience of readers was consulted by the liberality with which the library was thrown open on three days in every week, and furnished with tables, chairs, a ladder to reach the upper shelves, and a pair of globes[517]. This library was begun in 1675, and placed, like that at Rheims, directly under the roof. The second gallery, which is shorter than the first, was added in 1726. It was not disturbed at the Revolution, nor under the Empire, though the rest of the abbey-buildings became the Lycée Napoléon. After the Restoration, when this school became the College Henri IV., the presence of the library was found to be inconvenient, and in 1850 it was removed to a new building close to the Pantheon. The galleries are now used as a dormitory for the school-boys, but the dome, with some of its decorations, still survives. Another example of this arrangement, which seems to have been peculiarly French, is afforded by the library of Saint Germain-des-Près, the gradual extension of which I have already described[518]. The books were contained in oak presses set against the walls. Above them was a series of portraits representing the most important personages in the Order of S. Benedict. This library was open to the public daily from 9 to 11 a.m. and from 3 to 5 p.m.[519] I will conclude this chapter with a few words on the library of the most famous of all European monasteries, namely Monte Cassino, the foundation of which was undoubtedly laid by S. Benedict himself. I confess that I had hoped to find there a library which might either by its position or its fittings recall the early days of monasticism; but unfortunately the piety of the Benedictine Order has induced them to rebuild their parent house in a classical style, and to obliterate nearly every trace of the primitive building. The library, to which I was obligingly conducted by the Prior, is 60 ft. long by 30 ft. broad, with two large windows at the end opposite to the door. The side-walls are lined with bookcases divided by columns into four compartments on each side, after the fashion of Cardinal Mazarin's library. These columns support a heavy cornice with handsome ornaments. A band of woodwork divides the cases into an upper and lower range, but there is no trace of a desk. I could not learn the date at which these fittings had been constructed, but from their style I should assign them to the middle of the seventeenth century[520]. FOOTNOTES: [494] See above, p. 196. [495] See above, p. 224. [496] See above, p. 233. [497] For the history of the Escõrial, see Ford, _Handbook for Spain_, Ed. 1855, pp. 749-763, and _Descripcion ... del Escorial_, Fra de los Santos, fol. Madrid, 1657, with the English translation by G. Thompson, 4to. London, 1760. [498] I have to thank the librarian, Monsignore Ceriani, for kindly allowing this photograph to be taken for my use. [499] _Gli Istituti Scientifici etc. di Milano._ 8vo. Milan, 1880, p. 123, note. [500] Boscha, _De Origine et statu Bibl. Ambros._ p. 19; _ap._ Grævius, _Thes. Ant. et Hist. Italiæ_, Vol. IX. part 6; see also the Bull of Paul V, dated 7 July 1608, approving the foundation and rehearsing the statutes, in _Magnum Bullarium Romanum_, 4to. Turin, 1867, Vol. xi. p. 511. [501] For the history of the Bibliothèque Mazarine see Franklin, _Anc. Bibl. de Paris_, Vol. III. pp. 37-160. [502] Franklin, _Anc. Bibl. de Paris_, Vol. III. pp. 55-6. [503] The minute of the conservators of the library authorising this change is printed by Franklin, _ut supra_, p. 117. [504] Macray, _Annals_, ut supra, p. 37. [505] Macray, _ut supra_, p. 80. [506] Elmes. _Life of Sir C. Wren_, pp. 180-184. _Parentalia_, p. 261. [507] The history of this library has been fully narrated in the _Arch. Hist._, ut supra, Vol. II. pp. 531-551. Wren's Memoir quoted below has been collated with the original in the library of All Souls' College, Oxford, where his designs are also preserved. [508] This plan has been reduced from one on a larger scale kindly sent to me by my friend Mr F. C. Penrose, architect to the Cathedral. [509] I have to thank the Dean and Chapter for leave to study these Accounts, and to have a photograph taken of the library. [510] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. II. p. 710. Vol. III. p. 468. [511] _ib._ Vol. III. p. 468. [512] _ib._ Vol. III. pp. 74, 470. [513] _Arch. Hist._ Vol. I. p. 113. [514] See the set of views of French Religious Houses called _Le Monasticon Gallicanum_, 4to. Paris, 1882. The plates were drawn by Dom Germain 1645-1694. [515] See above, pp. 106, 114. [516] Jadart, _Les Anciennes Bibliothèques de Reims_, 8vo. Reims, 1891, p. 14. [517] Franklin, _Anc. Bibl. de Paris_, Vol. I. pp. 71-99. He gives a view of the interior of the library from a print dated 1773. [518] See above, p. 114. [519] Franklin, _ut supra_, I. pp. 107-134. [520] I visited Monte Cassino 13 April, 1898. CHAPTER IX. PRIVATE LIBRARIES. ABBAT SIMON AND HIS BOOK-CHEST. LIBRARY OF CHARLES V. OF FRANCE. ILLUSTRATIONS OF THIS LIBRARY FROM ILLUMINATED MANUSCRIPTS. BOOK-LECTERN USED IN PRIVATE HOUSES. BOOK-DESKS REVOLVING ROUND A CENTRAL SCREW. DESKS ATTACHED TO CHAIRS. WALL-CUPBOARDS. A SCHOLAR'S ROOM IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY. STUDY OF THE DUKE OF URBINO. LIBRARY OF MONTAIGNE. LIBRARY OF MARGARET OF AUSTRIA. CONCLUSION. In the previous chapters I have sketched the history of library-fittings from the earliest times to the end of the eighteenth century. The libraries to which these fittings belonged were, for the most part, public, or as good as public. But, as in history we have recognised the important fact that a record of battles and sieges and enactments in Parliament gives an imperfect conception of the life of a people, so I should feel that this archeological subject had been insufficiently treated if I made no attempt to shew how private scholars disposed their books, or with what appliances they used them. For instance, in what sort of chair was the author of the _Philobiblon_ sitting when he wrote the last words of his treatise, 24 January, 1345, and how was his study in his palace at Auckland furnished? Further, how were private students bestowed in the fifteenth century, when a love of letters had become general? Lastly, how were libraries fitted up for private use in the succeeding century, when the great people of the earth, like the wealthy Romans of imperial times, added the pursuit of literature to their other fashions, and considered a library to be indispensable in their luxurious palaces? In the hope of obtaining reliable information on these interesting questions, I have for some years past let no opportunity slip of examining illuminated manuscripts. I have gone through a large number in the British Museum, where research is aided by an excellent list of the subjects illustrated; in the _Bibliothèque Nationale_, Paris; and in the _Bibliothèque Royale_, Brussels, where the manuscripts are for the most part those which once belonged to the Dukes of Burgundy. I have been somewhat disappointed in this search, for, with the single exception of the illustration from Boethius (fig. 63), I have not found any library, properly so called. This is no doubt strange, having regard to the great variety of scenes depicted. It must be remembered, however, that these are used for the most part to illustrate some action that is going forward, for which a library would be a singularly inappropriate background. Single figures, on the other hand, are frequently shewn with their books about them, either reading or writing. Such illustrations most frequently occur in _Books of Hours_, in representations of the Evangelists; or in portraits of S. Jerome, who is painted as a scholar at his desk surrounded by piles of books and papers; and I think we may safely take these as representations of ordinary scholars, because, by the beginning of the fifteenth century, when most of the pictures to which I refer were drawn, it had become the custom to surround even the most sacred personages with the attributes of common life. In the twelfth century, when books were few, they were kept in chests, and the owners seem to have used the edge as a desk to lean their book on. My illustration (fig. 134) shews Simon, Abbat of S. Albans 1167-1183, seated in front of his book-chest[521]. The chest is set on a frame, so as to raise it to a convenient height; and the Abbat is seated on one of those folding wooden chairs which are not uncommon at the present day. Simon was a great collector of books: "their number," writes his chronicler, "it would take too long to name; but those who desire to see them can find them in the painted aumbry in the church, placed as he specially directed against the tomb of Roger the hermit[522]." Chests, as we have seen above at the Vatican library, were used for the permanent storage of books in the fifteenth century; and a book-chest frequently formed part of the travelling luggage of a king. For example, when Charles V. of France died, 16 September, 1380, at the Château de Beauté-sur-Marne, thirty-one volumes were found in his chamber "in a chest resting on two supports, which chest is by the window, near the fireplace, and it has a double cover, and in one of the divisions of the said chest were the volumes that follow." His son, Charles VI., kept the thirteen volumes which he carried about with him in a carved chest, within which was an inlaid box (_escrin marqueté_) to contain the more precious books[523]. [Illustration: Fig. 134. Simon, Abbat of S. Albans (1167-1183), seated at his book-chest. From MSS. Cotton.] The earliest information about the furniture of a medieval private library that I have as yet discovered is contained in a fragment of an account-book recording the cost of fitting up a tower in the Louvre in 1367 and 1368, to contain the books belonging to Charles V. of France. Certain pieces of woodwork in the older library in the palace on the Isle de la Cité are to be taken down and altered, and set up in the new room. Two carpenters are paid (14 March, 1367) for "having taken to pieces all the cases (_bancs_) and two wheels (_roes_), which were in the king's library in the palace, and transported them to the Louvre with the desks (_lettrins_), and the aforesaid wheels, each made smaller by a foot all round; and for having put all together again, and hung up the desks (_lettrins_) in the two upper stages of the tower that looks toward the Falconry, to put the king's books in; and for having panelled the first of those two stories all round on the inside with wood from 'Illande,' at a total cost of fifty francs of gold. Next, because the seats were too old, they were remade of new timber which the aforesaid carpenters brought. Also [they were paid] for two strong doors for the said two stories 7 ft. high, 3 ft. broad, and 3 fingers thick." In the following year (4 May, 1368), a wire-worker (_cagetier_) is paid "for having made trellises of wire in front of two casements and two windows ... to keep out birds and other beasts (_oyscaux et autres bestes_), by reason of, and protection for, the books that shall be placed there." The ceiling is said to have been panelled in cypress wood ornamented with carvings[524]. The "tower that looks toward the Falconry" mentioned in the above description has been identified with the north-west tower of the old Louvre. The rooms fitted up as a library were circular, and about 14 feet in diameter[525]. The above description of a library will be best explained by an illumination (fig. 135) contained in Boccacio's _Livre des cas des malheureux nobles hommes et femmes_, written and illuminated in Flanders for King Henry the Seventh, and now in the British Museum[526]. Two gentlemen are studying at a revolving desk, which can be raised or lowered by a central screw. This is evidently the "wheel" of the French King's library. Behind are their books, either resting on a desk hung against the wall, which is panelled, or lying on a shelf beneath the desk. This piece of furniture would be properly described either as a _banc_ or a _lettrin_. It should be noted that care has been taken to keep the wheel steady by supporting it on a solid base, beneath which are two strong cross-pieces of timber, which also serve as a foot-rest for the readers. The books on the desk set against the wall are richly bound, with bosses of metal. Chaining was evidently not thought of, indeed I doubt if it was ever used in a private library. The window is glazed throughout. In other examples which I shall figure below we shall find a wire trellis used instead of glass for part at least of the window. My next illustration (fig. 136), also Flemish, is of the same date, from a copy of the _Miroir historial_[527]. It represents a Carmelite monk, probably the author of the book, writing in his study. Behind him are three desks, one above the other, hung against the wall along two sides of the room, with books bound and ornamented as in the former picture, resting upon them, and beneath the lowest is a flat shelf or bench on which a book rests upon its side. The desk he is using is not uncommon in these illustrations. It is fixed on a solid base, which is further strengthened, as in the example of the wheel-desk, by massive planks, to guard against the slightest vibration; and it can be turned aside by means of a limb--apparently of iron--which is first vertical, then horizontal, then vertical again. The Carmelite holds in his left hand an instrument for keeping the page perfectly flat. This instrument has usually a sharp point with which any roughness on the page can be readily removed. The volume he is using is kept open by two strings, to each of which a weight is attached. Behind the desk, covered with a cloth, is a chest secured by two locks. On this stands an object which appears to be a large magnifying glass. Sometimes the desk was carried round three sides of the room, with no curtain to keep off dust, and with no shelf beneath it. The illustration (fig. 137) is from a French translation of Valerius Maximus (1430-75) in the Harleian Collection[528]. I now pass to a series of pictures which illustrate the daily life of a scholar or a writer who had few books, but who could live in a certain ease--allowing himself a chair and a desk. Of these desks there is an infinite variety, dictated, I imagine, by the fashion prevalent in particular places at particular times. I have tried to arrange them in groups. [Illustration: Fig. 136. A Carmelite in his study. From a MS. of _Le Miroir Historial_ in the British Museum.] [Illustration: Fig. 137. Three musicians in a library. From a MS. of a French translation of _Valerius Maximus_, in the British Museum.] In the first place the chair is usually a rather elaborate piece of furniture, with arms, a straight back, and, very frequently, a canopy. A cushion to sit upon is sometimes permitted, but, as a general rule, these chairs are destitute of stuffing, tapestry, or other device to conceal the material of which they are made. Occasionally the canopy is richly carved or painted in a pattern. The commonest form of desk is a modification of the lectern-system. It consists of a double lectern, beneath which is a row of cupboards, or rather a shelf protected by several doors, one of which is always at the end of the piece of furniture. The triangular space under the lectern is also used for books. This device is specially commended by Richard de Bury in the _Philobiblon_[529]. "Moses," says he, "the gentlest of men, teaches us to make bookcases most neatly, wherein they may be protected from any injury: _Take_, he says, _this book of the law, and put it in the side of the ark of the covenant of the Lord your God_." My illustration (fig. 138) is taken from an edition of the _Ship of Fools_, printed at Basle by Nicolas Lamparter in 1507. In this example the desk with its cupboards stands on a plinth, and this again on a broad step. Both are probably introduced to ensure steadiness. [Illustration: Fig. 138. A bibliomaniac at his desk. From the _Ship of Fools_.] The seated figure represents a bibliomaniac who treats his books as mere curiosities from which he derives no mental improvement. He has put on his spectacles and wielded his feather-brush, in order to dust the leaves of a folio with greater care. Under the cut are the following explanatory lines: Qui libros tyriis vestit honoribus Et blattas abijt puluerulentulas Nec discens animum litterulis colit: Mercatur nimia stultieiam stipe. I append a rough translation: Who clothes his books in Tyrian dyes, Then brushes off the dust and flies, Nor reads one line to make him wise, Spends lavish gold and--FOLLY buys. Such a desk as this was used in the succeeding century in at least two libraries belonging to ladies of high rank. The first belonged to Margaret of Austria, daughter of Maximilian, Emperor of Germany. She had been the wife of Philibert II., Duke of Savoy, and after his death, 10 September, 1504, her father made her regent of the Netherlands. She died at Malines 30 November, 1530, at the age of fifty. She seems to have been a liberal patroness of literature and the arts, and the beautiful church that she built at Brou in memory of her husband bears witness to her architectural taste and skill. The inventory, out of which I hope to reconstruct her library, is dated 20 April, 1524[530]. It is headed: "Library," and begins with the following entry: "The first desk (_pourpitre_) begins over the door, and goes all round up to the fireplace." On this desk or shelf are enumerated fifty-two volumes, all bound in velvet with gilt bosses. This entry is succeeded by: "here follow the Books of Hours, being on a desk high up in continuation of the preceding one between the windows and the fireplace." This desk contains twenty-six volumes bound in velvet, red satin, or cloth of gold, with gilt bosses. We come next to "the first desk below (_d'ambas_) beginning near the door at the first seat." This desk carries nine books, presumably on the sloping portion, because we presently come to a paragraph headed "here follow the books covered with leather &c., which are underneath the desks beginning near the door." The author of the inventory then returns to the first desk, and enumerates eleven volumes. He next goes round to "the other side of the said desk," and enumerates thirteen volumes. In this way six desks are gone through. All have books bound in black, blue, crimson, or violet, velvet laid out upon them, while those in plainer dress are consigned to the shelves beneath. It should be added that the fourth desk is described as being near the fireplace (_empres la chemynée_). The desks having been gone through, we come to "the books which are within the iron trellis beginning near the door." This piece of furniture contained twenty-seven volumes. The number of books accommodated in the whole room was as follows: First shelf 52 Second shelf 26 78 First desk (sloping portion) 9 Under desk: one side 11 " " other side 13 24 33 -------- Second desk 21 11 10 21 42 -------- Third " " 26 13 10 23 49 -------- Fourth " " 15 18 14 32 47 -------- Fifth " " 19 11 10 21 40 -------- Sixth " " 20 9 10 19 39 250 -------- Within the trellis-work 27 355 We will next try to form some idea of the way in which this library was arranged; and first of the two shelves which begin "over the door." A shelf in this position is shewn in Carpaccio's well-known picture of S. Jerome in his study. It is set deskwise against the wall supported on iron brackets. As a large proportion of the fifty-two volumes on our shelf are described as of large size (_grant_), we shall be justified in assuming that each was 10 in. broad. The total therefore would occupy 520 in. or say 43 ft. at least, not allowing for intervals between them. This shelf extended from the door round the room to the fireplace, by which I suppose we are to understand that it began on the wall which contained the door, and was carried round the corner of the room up to the fireplace. The second shelf, at the same height as the preceding, contained only twenty-six volumes, fifteen of which are described as small (_petit_). A space of thirteen feet or even less will therefore be amply sufficient to contain them. The six desks which stood on the floor were, I imagine, constructed in some such way as that which I have figured above from the _Ship of Fools_. It is evident that books in velvet bindings and adorned with gilt bosses would be set out where they could be seen, and for such a purpose what could be better than a lectern? The table I have given above shews that there were 110 volumes thus disposed, or an average of say 18 to each desk. A careful analysis of the inventory, where the size of each book is always set down, shews me that there were very few small books in this part of the library, but that they were divided between large (_grant_) and medium size (_moien_). If we allow 8 in. for each book, we get an average of 144 in. = 12 ft. for each desk, that is, as the desk was double, the piece of furniture was 6 ft. long. Under the sloping portion it had a shelf on each side. Four such desks stood between the door and the fireplace, and two between the fireplace and the window, which seems to have been opposite the door. We are not told where the "trellis of iron" was. I suppose these words mean some shelves set against the wall with ironwork in front of them. As the enumeration of the books begins "near the door" the piece of furniture may be placed on the side of the door opposite to the former desks. The inventory further shews that this library did duty as a museum. It was in fact filled with rare and beautiful objects, and must have presented a singularly rich appearance. In the middle of the hood over the fireplace was a stag's head and horns bearing a crucifix. There was a bust of the Duke of Savoy, in white marble, forming a pendant to one of the Duchess Margaret herself, and in the same material a statuette of a boy extracting a thorn from his foot, probably a copy of the antique in the Ducal Gallery at Florence. There were also twenty oil paintings in the room, some of which were hung round the hood of the fireplace. Besides these works of art there were several pieces of furniture, as, for instance, a large press containing a complete set of armour, a sideboard "à la mode d'Italie," given as a present by the viceroy of Naples; a square table of inlaid work; a smaller table bearing the arms of Burgundy and Spain; three mirrors; a number of objects in rock-crystal; and lastly some feather dresses from India (S. America?), presented by the Emperor. It is provoking that the inventory, minute as it is, should desert us at the most important point, and give insufficient data for estimating the size of the room. I conjecture that it was about 46 ft. long from the following considerations. In the first place, I allow 2 ft. for the width of each desk. Of these there were four between the door and the fireplace = 8 ft. Secondly, I allow 3 ft. each for the five intervals = 15 ft., or a total of 23 ft. from the door to the fireplace. For the fireplace itself I allow 10 ft. Between the fireplace and the wall containing the window or windows, there were two desks and three intervals = 13 ft. I pointed out above that 43 ft. at least might be allowed for the shelf extending from the door to the fireplace. Of this I have absorbed 23 ft., leaving 20 ft. for the distance from the door to the corner of the room. As we are not told anything about the position of the door my estimate of the size of the room cannot be carried further. A similar arrangement obtained in the library of Anne de France, daughter of Louis XI., or as she is usually called Anne de Beaujeu[531]. Her catalogue made 19 September, 1523, records 314 titles, which I need hardly say represent a far larger number of books. They were arranged like those of the Duchess Margaret, on eleven desks (_poulpitres_). These were set round a room, with the exception of two which were placed in the middle of it. It is interesting to note respecting one of these, that it had a cupboard at the end, for the contents are entered as follows: _au bout dudit poulpitre sont enclos les livres qui s'ensuivent_, and sixteen volumes are enumerated. There was also a shelf set against the wall, described as _le plus hault poulpitre le long de la dite muraille_, which contained fifty-five volumes. This desk was probably high up, like the one in the library of the Duchess Margaret. The books upon it are noted as being all covered with red velvet, and ornamented with clasps, bosses, and corner-pieces of metal. There were also in this library an astrolabe, and a sphere with the signs of the Zodiac. [Illustration: Fig. 139. S. John writing his Gospel. From a MS. _Hours_ in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge.] A desk, similar in general character to that figured in the _Ship of Fools_, but of a curiously modern type, occurs in an Hours in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, executed about 1445 for Isabel, Duchess of Brittany. The picture (fig. 139) represents S. John writing his Gospel. A modification of this form of desk was common in Italy. It is often used by painters of the fifteenth century in pictures of the Annunciation, where it does duty as a prie-dieu. The example I have selected (fig. 140) is from a painting by Benedetto Bonfigli, in the church of S. Peter at Perugia. It represents S. Jerome writing. A small circular revolving desk, at the left-hand corner of the larger desk, holds the work he is copying or referring to. On the desk near the inkstand lies the pointed _stylus_ mentioned above. Below the cupboard containing books is a drawer. Projecting from the top of the revolving desk, there is a vertical rod of iron with a long horizontal arm. This is no doubt intended to carry a lantern. I shall shortly give an example of one in such a position. [Illustration: Fig. 141. Circular book-desk. From a MS. of _Fais et Gestes du Roi Alexandre_, in the British Museum.] [Illustration: Fig. 140. S. Jerome writing. From an oil painting by Benedetto Bonfigli, in the Church of S. Peter at Perugia.] I now return to the wheel-desk, of which I have already figured one specimen (fig. 135). A piece of furniture consisting of one or more tables which could be raised or depressed by means of a central screw, was very generally used by scholars in the Middle Ages. I shall present a few of the most common forms. [Illustration: Fig. 142. S. Luke writing his Gospel. From the Dunois _Horæ_, a MS. in the possession of H. Y. Thompson, Esq.] My first specimen is from a manuscript in the British Museum, written and illuminated in England in the middle of the fifteenth century. It is called _Fais et Gestes du Roi Alexandre_[532]. The picture (fig. 141) represents Alexander as a little child, standing in front of his tutor, who is seated in one of the chairs I described above. On the learned man's right is his book-desk. A circular table with a rim round it to prevent the books falling off, is supported on a central pedestal, which contains the screw. The top of the said screw is concealed by the little Gothic turret in the centre of the table. This turret also supports the book which the reader has in use. [Illustration: Fig. 143. A lady seated in her chair reading. From a MS. written in France, early in the fifteenth century.] My next example is from a miniature in a volume of Hours known as the Dunois _Horæ_, also written in the middle of the fifteenth century. It has been slightly enlarged in order to bring out the details more clearly. The subject is S. Luke writing his Gospel, but the background represents a scholar's room. There is a bookcase of a very modern type, a table with two folio volumes lying upon it, and in the centre a hexagonal book-desk, with a little Gothic turret as in the last example. Round the screw under the table are four cylindrical supports, the use of which I fail to understand, but they occur frequently on desks of this type. The whole piece of furniture rests on a heavy cylindrical base, and that again on a square platform. I now pass to a variety of the screw-desk, which has a small book-rest above the table. The whole structure rests upon a prolongation of the solid platform on which the reader's chair is placed, so that it is really exactly in front of the reader. My illustration (fig. 143) is from "The booke of the noble ladyes in frensh," a work by Boccacio; it was written in France early in the fifteenth century[533]. [Illustration: Fig. 144. Screw-desk. From a fifteenth century MS. in the Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal, Paris.] [Illustration: Fig. 145. Hexagonal desk, with central spike, probably for a candle. From a French MS. of _Le Miroir Historial_.] These double desks are exceedingly common, and I might fill a large number of pages with figures and descriptions of the variety which the ingenuity of the cabinet-makers of the fifteenth century managed to impart to combinations of a screw and two or more tables. I will content myself with one more example (fig. 144) which shews the screw exceedingly well, and the two tables above it. The uppermost of these serves as a ledge to rest the books on, as does also the hexagonal block above it which conceals the top of the screw[534]. We meet occasionally with a solid desk, by which I mean one the level of which cannot be altered. In the example here given (fig. 145) from a French MS. of _Le Miroir Historial_, there is a central spike which I suspect to have been intended to carry a candle[535]. In some examples of these book-desks the pedestal is utilized as a book-cupboard (fig. 146). The picture which I have selected as shewing a desk of this peculiarity is singularly beautiful, and finished in the highest style of art available at the end of the fifteenth century in France. It forms half of the frontispiece to a fine manuscript of Boccacio's _Livre des cas des malheureux nobles hommes et femmes_[536]. The central figure is apparently lecturing on that moving theme, for in front of him, in the other half of the picture, is a crowd of men exhibiting their interest by the violence of their gestures. On his left is the desk I mentioned; it stands on an unusually firm base, and one side of the vertical portion is pierced by an arch, so as to make the central cavity available for putting books in. From the centre of the table rises a tall spike, apparently of iron, to which is attached a horizontal arm, bearing a lighted lantern. On the table, in addition to three books, is an inkstand and pen-case. In front of the lecturer is a carved chest, probably one of those book-coffers which I have already mentioned. The chair and canopy are richly carved, and the back of the seat is partially covered by a piece of tapestry. Further, the lecturer is allowed the unusual luxury of a cushion. I will next deal with the appliances for reading and writing directly connected with the chairs in which scholars sat, and I will begin with the desk. [Illustration: Fig. 146. A lecturer addressing an audience. From a MS. of _Livre des cas des malheureux nobles hommes et femmes_, written in France at end of fifteenth century.] [Illustration: Fig. 148. The author of _The Chronicles of Hainault_ in his study (1446).] [Illustration: Fig. 150. A writer with his desk and table. From a MS. of _Le Livre des Propriétés des Choses_ in the British Museum.] The simplest form of desk is a plain board, set at a suitable angle by means of a chain or cord extending from one of its corners to the back of the chair, while the opposite corner rests against a peg driven into the arm of the chair. This arrangement, variously modified, occurs very frequently; sometimes there are two pegs and two chains, but what I may term the normal form is shewn in my illustration (fig. 147)[537]. It is difficult to understand how the desk was kept steady. [Illustration: Fig. 147. S. Mark writing his Gospel. From a MS. _Hours_ written in France in the fifteenth century.] The author whose study I shall figure next (fig. 148) is engaged in writing the Chronicles of Hainault[538]. His desk rests securely on two irons fastened to the arms of his chair. On his right is a plain lectern with an open volume on each side of it, and behind are two or more shelves set against the wall with books lying on their sides. On his left is a chest, presumably a book-chest, with books lying on its closed lid. One of these is open. He has prudently placed his chair near the window in such a position that the light falls upon his work from the left. It should be noted that the upper part of the window only is glazed, the lower part being closed by shutters. When these are thrown back, the lights are seen to be filled to half their height with a trellis, such as was ordered for the French king's library. My third example of a chair fitted with a desk (fig. 149) is taken from _Les Miracles de Notre Dame_[539], a manuscript which belonged to Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, and was written for him at the Hague in 1456. The illustration represents S. Jerome seated in his study. From arm to arm of the chair extends a desk of a very firm and solid construction. The ends of this desk apparently drop into the heads of the small columns with which the arms of the chair terminate. The saint has in his left hand a pointed _stylus_, and in his right a pen, which he is holding up to the light. On the desk beside the manuscript lies an ink-horn. To the right of the saint's chair is a hexagonal table with a high ledge round it. There is no evidence that this table has a screw; but the small subsidiary desk above it seems to be provided with one. It will be observed that the support of this desk is not directly over that of the table beneath it. The desk is provided with two slits--an ingenious contrivance for dealing with a roll. On the table, besides an open book, are a pair of spectacles, four pens, a small box which may contain French chalk for pouncing, and what looks like a piece of sponge. [Illustration: Fig. 149. S. Jerome in his study. From _Les Miracle de Nostre Dame_, written at the Hague in 1456.] I now figure two different sets of library appliances. The first (fig. 150) is from a manuscript of the _Livre des Propriétés des Choses_, in the British Museum, written in the fifteenth century[540]. The writer is seated in one of those low chairs which occur very frequently in miniatures, and look as if they were cut out of a single block of wood. His desk, which is quite independent of the chair, is of the simplest design, consisting of a piece of wood supported at an angle on two carved uprights. On his left stands a very elegant piece of furniture, a table with a desk at a considerable height above it--so high, in fact, that it could only be used standing. This upper desk is fitted with a little door as though it served as a receptacle for small objects. [Illustration: Fig. 151. S. Luke writing his Gospel. MSS. Douce, Bodl. Lib. Oxf., No. 381.] The second example (fig. 151) shews S. Luke sitting on a bench writing at a table[541]. The top, which is very massive, rests on four legs, morticed into a frame. In front of this table is a desk of peculiar form; the lower part resembles a reversed cone, and the upper part a second cone of smaller diameter, so as to leave space enough between the two bases for a ledge to rest books on. Round the base of the desk three quaint lions do duty as feet. These lions occur again beneath the frame of the picture, and may be connected with a former possessor of the manuscript. The pedestal of the desk is a twisted column, which, like the base, and indeed the whole structure, looks as though it were made of brass. [Illustration: Fig. 152. S. Augustine at his desk. From a painting by Fra Filippo Lippi at Florence.] [Illustration: Fig. 153. S. Jerome reading. From an oil painting by Catena, in the National Gallery, London.] [Illustration: Fig. 154. A writer at work. From a French translation of Valerius Maximus, written and illuminated in Flanders in 1479, for King Edward IV.] I now pass to a totally different way of fitting up a study, which seems to have been common in Italy, to judge by the number of paintings in which it occurs. It consists of a massive desk of wood, one part of which is set at right angles to the other, and is connected in various ways with shelves, drawers, pigeon-holes, and other contrivances for holding books and papers. In the example I here figure (fig. 152), from a painting by Fra Filippo Lippi (1412-1469) representing S. Augustine's vision of the Trinity, there are two small recesses above the desk on the saint's right, both containing books, and behind the shorter portion of the desk, three shelves also with books on them. Attached to the end of the desk is a small tray, probably to contain pens. A similar desk occurs in the beautiful picture by Catena in the National Gallery[542], representing S. Jerome reading, of which I give a reproduction on a reduced scale (fig. 153). This picture also contains an excellent example of a cupboard in the thickness of the wall, a contrivance for taking care of books as common in the Middle Ages as it had been in Roman times[543]. Cupboards in the thickness of the wall are also to be seen in the frontispiece (fig. 154) to a copy of a French translation of Valerius Maximus[544], written in Flanders in 1479 for King Edward IV. The writer--probably intended for the author or the translator of the book--is seated at a desk, consisting of a plank set at an angle and capable of being turned aside by means of a central bracket, like that used by the Carmelite (fig. 136). Observe the two weights hanging over the edge of the desk and the ends of the two horns, intended to hold ink, projecting through it. The window, as in the picture representing the author of the Chronicles of Hainault at work, is glazed in the upper part only, while in the lower are two framed trellises of wire-work. Behind the writer are two cupboards in the thickness of the wall. One of these is open, and shews books lying on their sides, upon which are some pomegranates. I cannot suggest any reason for the introduction of these fruits, except that from their colour they make a pleasing variety; but I ought to mention that they occur very frequently in miniatures representing a writer at work. On the other side of the window is a small hanging cupboard. Here again a fruit is introduced on the lowest shelf. Round the room is a settle, raised above the floor on blocks at intervals. The seat is probably a chest, as in the settles described above in the Vatican Library. The last picture (fig. 155) in this series of illustrations represents what I like to call a scholar's room, at the beginning of the fifteenth century[545]. The owner of the apartment is busily writing at a desk supported on a trestle-table. He holds a _stylus_ in his left hand, and a pen in his right. The ink-horn he is using is inserted into the desk. Above it are holes for two others, in case he should require ink of different colours. Above the inkstand is a pen stuck in a hole, with vacant holes beside it. The page on the desk is kept flat by a weight. Above this desk is a second desk, of nearly equal size, on which lies an open book, kept open by a large weight, extending over two-thirds of the open pages. Behind the writer's chair is his book-chest. The background represents a well-appointed chamber. The floor is paved with encaustic tiles; a bright fire is burning on the hearth; the window, on the same plan as that described in the last picture, is open; a comfortable--not to say luxurious--bed invites repose. The walls are unplastered, but there is a hanging under the window and over the head of the bed. With this simple room, containing a scholar's necessaries and no more, I will contrast the study of the Duke of Urbino. This beautiful room, which still exists as the Duke left it, is on an upper floor of the castle, commanding from its balcony, which faces the south, an extensive view of the approach to the Castle, the city, and the country beyond, backed by the Apennines. It is of small size, measuring only 11 ft. 6 in. by 13 ft. 4 in., and is somewhat irregular in shape. It is entered by a door from the Duke's private apartment. The floor is paved with rough tiles set in patterns. The walls are panelled to a height of about eight feet. The bare space between the top of the panel-work and the ceiling was probably hung with tapestry. The ceiling is a beautiful specimen of the most elaborate plaster-work, disposed in octagonal panels. The decoration of the panel-work begins with a representation of a bench, on which various objects are lying executed in intarsia work. Above this bench is a row of small panels, above which again is a row of large panels, each containing a subject in the finest intarsia, as for example a portrait of Duke Frederick, figures of Faith, Hope, and other virtues, a pile of books, musical instruments, armour, a parrot in a cage, etc. In the cornice above these is the word FEDERICO, and the date 1476. [Illustration: Fig. 155. A scholar's room in the fifteenth century. From a MS. in the Royal Library at Brussels.] Opposite the window there is a small cupboard, and on the opposite side of the projection containing it there are a few shelves. These are the only receptacles for books in the room. From its small size it could have contained but little furniture, and was probably intended for the purpose traditionally ascribed to it, namely as a place of retirement for the Duke when he wished to be alone. Another specimen of a library so arranged as to provide a peaceful retreat is afforded a century later by that of Montaigne, of which he has fortunately left a minute description. [My library is] in the third story of a Tower, of which the Ground-room is my Chappel, the second story an Apartment with a withdrawing Room and Closet, where I often lie to be more retired. Above it is a great Wardrobe, which formerly was the most useless part of the House. I there pass away both the most of the Days of my Life, and most of the Hours of those Days. In the Night I am never there. There is within it a Cabinet handsome and neat enough, with a Fire-place very commodiously contriv'd, and Light very finely fitted. And was I not more afraid of the Trouble than the Expence, the Trouble that frights me from all Business, I could very easily adjoyn on either side, and on the same Floor, a Gallery of an hundred paces long, and twelve broad, having found Walls already rais'd for some other Design, to the requisite height. Every place of retirement requires a Walk. My Thoughts sleep if I sit still; my Fancy does not go by itself, as when my Legs move it: and all those who study without a Book are in the same Condition. The figure of my Study is round, and has no more flat Wall than what is taken up by my Table, and my Chairs; so that the remaining parts of the Circle present me a view of all my books at once, set up upon five degrees of Shelves round about me. It has three noble and free Prospects, and is sixteen paces[546] Diameter. I am not so continually there in Winter; for my House is built upon an Eminence, as its Name imports, and no part of it is so much expos'd to the Wind and Weather as that, which pleases me the better, for being of a painful access, and a little remote, as well upon the account of Exercise, as being also there more retir'd from the Crowd. 'Tis there that I am in my Kingdom, as we say, and there I endeavour to make myself an absolute Monarch, and so sequester this one Corner from all Society both Conjugal, Filial, and Civil[547]. The notices of libraries which I have collected have brought me to the end of the sixteenth century, by which time most of the appliances in use in the Middle Ages had been given up. I hope that I have not exhausted the patience of my readers by presenting too long a series of illustrations extracted from manuscripts. I love, as I look at them, to picture to myself the medieval man of letters, laboriously penning voluminous treatises in the writing room of a monastery, or in his own study, with his scanty collection of books within his reach, on shelves, or in a chest, or lying on a table. We sometimes call the ages dark in which he lived, but the mechanical ingenuity displayed in the devices by which his studies were assisted might put to shame the cabinet-makers of our own day. As the fashion of collecting books, and of having them bound at a lavish expense, increased, it was obvious that they must be laid out so as to be seen and consulted without the danger of spoiling their costly covers. Hence the development of the lectern-system in private houses, and the arrangement of a room such as the Duchess Margaret possessed at Malines. Gradually, however, as books multiplied, and came into the possession of persons who could not afford costly bindings, lecterns were abandoned, and books were ranged on shelves against the wall, as in the public libraries which I described in the last chapter. There is still in existence, on an upper floor in the Palazzo Barberini at Rome, a library of this description, which has probably not been altered in any way since it was fitted up by Cardinal Francesco Barberini about 1630. The room is 105 ft. long by 28 ft. broad, and is admirably lighted by two windows in the south wall, and seven in the gallery. The shelves are set round three sides of the room at a short distance from the wall, so as to leave space for a gallery and the stairs to it. The cases are divided into compartments by fluted Ionic columns 5 ft. high. These rest upon a flat shelf 14 in. wide, beneath which are drawers for papers and a row of folios. This part of the structure is 3 ft. high from the floor to the base of the columns. Above the columns is a cornice, part of which is utilized for books; and above this again is the gallery, where the arrangement of the shelves is a repetition of what I have described in the lower part of the room. Dwarf cases in a plainer style and of later date are set along the sides and ends of the room. Upon these are desks for the catalogue, a pair of globes, some astronomical instruments, and some sepulchral urns found at Præneste. The older woodwork in this library has never been painted or varnished, and the whole aspect of the room is singularly old-world and delightful. [Illustration: Fig. 156 Dean Boys in his Library, 1622.] Another instance is afforded by the sketch of the library of John Boys, Dean of Canterbury, who died in 1625. It occurs on the title-page of his works dated 1622, and I may add on his tomb in Canterbury Cathedral also. He clung to ancient fashions so far as to set his books with their fore-edge outwards, but in other respects his book-shelves are of a modern type. * * * * * I have now reached the limit which I imposed upon myself when I began this essay. But before I conclude let me say a few last words. I wish to point out that collectors and builders in the Middle Ages did not guard their manuscripts with jealous care merely because they had paid a high price to have them written; they recognised what I may call the personal element in them; they invested them with the senses and the feelings of human beings; and bestowed them like guests whom they delighted to honour. No one who reads the _Philobiblon_ can fail to see that every page of it is pervaded by this sentiment; and this I think explains the elaborate precautions against theft; the equally elaborate care taken to arrange a library in so orderly a fashion that each book might be accessible with the least difficulty and the least delay; and the exuberant gratitude with which the arrival of a new book was welcomed. In my present work I have looked at libraries from the technical side exclusively. It would have been useless to try to combine fire and water, sentiment and fact. But let me remind my readers that we are not so far removed from the medieval standpoint as some of us perhaps would wish. When we enter the library of Queens' College, or the older part of the University Library, at Cambridge, where there has been continuity from the fifteenth century to the present day, are we not moved by feelings such as I have tried to indicate, such in fact as moved John Leland when he saw the library at Glastonbury for the first time? Moreover, there is another sentiment closely allied to this by which members of a College or a University are more deeply moved than others--I mean the sentiment of association. The most prosaic among them cannot fail to remember that the very floors were trodden by the feet of the great scholars of the past; that Erasmus may have sat at that window on that bench, and read the very book which we are ourselves about to borrow. But in these collections the present is not forgotten; the authors of to-day are taking their places beside the authors of the past, and are being treated with the same care. On all sides we see progress: the lecterns and the stalls are still in use and keep green the memory of old fashions; while near them the plain shelving of the twentieth century bears witness to the ever-present need for more space to hold the invading hordes of books that represent the literature of to-day. On the one hand, we see the past; on the other, the present; and both are animated by full, vigorous life. FOOTNOTES: [521] MSS. Mus. Brit., MSS. Cotton, Claudius E. 4, part 1. fol. 124. I have to thank my friend, Mr Hubert Hall, of the Public Record Office, for drawing my attention to this illustration. [522] _Gesta Abbatum_, ed. Rolls series, I. p. 184. I owe this reference and its translation to the Reverend F. A. Gasquet, _Medieval Monastic Libraries_, p. 89, in _Downside Review_, 1891, Vol. X. No. 2. [523] Henri Havard, _Dict. de l' Ameublement_, s. v. Librairie. The first chest is described in the following words: "Livres estans en la grant chambre dudit Seigneur, en ung escrin assiz sur deux crampons, lequel est à la fenestre emprès la cheminée de ladite chambre, et est a deux couvescles, en l'une des parties dequel coffre estoient les parties qui s'ensuivent." See also J. Labarle: _Inventaire du Mobilier de Charles V._ 4to. Paris, 1879, p. 336. [524] Franklin, _Anc. Bibl. de Paris_, Vol. II. p. 112. A copy of this account is in the _Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal_, No. 6362. This I have collated with M. Franklin's text. The most important passage is the following: A Jacques du Parvis et Jean Grosbois, huchiers, pour leur peine d'avoir dessemblé tous les bancs et deux roes qui estoient en la librairie du Roy au palais, et iceux faict venir audit Louvre, avec les lettrins et icelles roes estrécies chacune d'un pied tout autour; et tout rassemblé et pendu les lettrins es deux derraines estages de la tour, devers la Fauconnerie, pour mettre les livres du Roy; et lambroissié de bort d'Illande le premier d'iceux deux estages tout autour par dedans, au pris de L. francs d'or, par marché faict à eux par ledit maistre Jacques, XIV^e jour de mars 1367. [525] A. Berty, _Topographie historique du vieux Paris_, 4to. Paris, 1866, Vol. I. pp. 143-146. He considers that the "bort d'Illande" was Dutch oak, 480 pieces of which had been given to the king by the officer called Sénéchal of Hainault. [526] MSS. Mus. Brit. 14 E. V. [527] MSS. Mus. Brit. 14 E. 1. This miniature has been reproduced by Father Gasquet in the paper quoted above. [528] MSS. Mus. Brit., MSS. Harl. 4375, f. 151 _b_. [529] _The Philobiblon of Richard de Bury_: ed. E. C. Thomas, London, 1888. [530] Printed in _Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorischen Sammlungen des Allerhöchsten Kaiserhauses_, Band III. 4to. Wien, 1885. [531] Lerou de Lincey, _Mélanges de la Société des Bibliophiles_, 1850, p. 231. [532] MSS. Mus. Brit. 15 E. VI. [533] MS. Mus. Brit. 20 C. V. [534] Paris, Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal, MS. 5193, fol. 311. Boccacio: _Cas des malheureux nobles hommes et femmes_. [535] Paris, Bibl. Nat., MSS. Français, 50, _Le Miroir Historial_, by Vincent de Beauvais, fol. 340. Probably written in cent. XV. [536] MSS. Mus. Brit. Add. 35321. MSS. Waddesdon, No. 12. Bequeathed by Baron Ferdinand Rothschild. [537] MSS. Bodl. Lib. Oxf., MSS. Rawl. Liturg. e. 24, fol. 17 _b_. [538] MSS. Bibliothèque Royale de Bruxelles, No. 9242. _Chroniques de Hainaut_, Pt. I. fol. 2, 1446. [539] MSS. Bibl. Nat. Paris, MSS. Fran. 9198. See _Miracles de Nostre Dame_, by J. Mielot, Roxburghe Club, 1885; with introduction by G. F. Warner, M.A. [540] MSS. Cotton, Augustus, VI. fol. 213 _b_. There is a beautiful example of a table and desk on this plan in a MS. of _La Cité des Dames_, from the old Royal Library of France in the Bibl. Nat., MSS. Fran. 1177. [541] MSS. Bodl. Lib. Oxf., MSS. Douce, No. 381, fol. 159. A second example occurs in the same MS., fol. 160. [542] I have to thank my friend Sidney Colvin, M.A., for drawing my attention to this picture. [543] See above, pp. 37, 38. [544] MSS. Mus. Brit. 18 E. IV. [545] _Le Débat de l'honneur entre trois Princes chevalereux_. Bibil. Roy. Bruxelles, No. 9278, fol. 10. The MS. is from the library of the Dukes of Burgundy, and may be dated in the second third of the fifteenth century. [546] The original words are 'seize pas de vuide.' The substantive 'pas' must I think mean a foot, the length a foot makes when set upon the ground. The word pace, the length of which is 2 ft. 6 in. or 3 ft., is inapplicable here. [547] _Essays of Michael Seigneur de Montaigne._ Made English by Ch. Cotton, Vol. III. pp. 53, 54. 8vo. London, 1741. I have to thank my friend Mr A. F. Sieveking for this reference. INDEX. Abingdon, Berks, Benedictine House at: customs in force respecting books, 68; carrells set up, 98 Abingdon: School library, 262 Actor and masks: relief representing in Lateran Museum, Rome, 36 Agapetus, pope: his intended college and library, 44 Albans (S.): form of curse used, 78; endowment of _scriptorium_, 80; library built 1452-3, 108; stained glass, 241 Alençon: town library, 287 Alexandria: account of libraries, 6; in museum, _ibid._; in temple of Serapis, 7 All Souls' Coll., Oxf.: library statute, 137; special provisions, 138 Ambrosian Library, Milan: description, 271; may have been copied by Wren at S. Paul's, London, 282 _analogium_: a book-desk, 105, 197, 243 Anne de Beaujeu: her library, 302 Antony, Mark: gives library at Pergamon to Cleopatra, 8 Apollo: temple and area on Palatine Hill at Rome, 14; composition of the library, 18, 19; allusions to, by Ovid and Horace, _ibid._ Apollonius Thyaneus: commemorated in Roman library, 23 Apse, triple: how treated in early times, 63; De Rossi's theory, _ibid._; description by Paulinus of Nola, _ibid._; view of Lenoir, 64, _note_ Aristotle: said to have been a book-collector, 5; his methods adopted by the Ptolemies, _ibid._ Ark: desk on pattern of, 297 armarium: in Ulpian library, 20; described by Nibby, 37; to contain _codices_, _ibid._; held by jurist Ulpian to be part of the library, _ibid._; description by Pliny of one sunk in wall of a room, 38; on sarcophagus in Museo Nazionale, Rome, with shoemaker at work, _ibid._; on do. in Villa Balestra, Rome, with physician reading, _ibid._; on tomb of Galla Placidia, 39; in Jewish synagogues, _ibid._ note; in Codex Amiatinus, 40, 41; verses composed for his own presses by Isidore, Bp of Seville, 45; called _fenestra_ by Pachomius, 64, 65, _note_; alluded to by S. Benedict, 66; word used for a library by the Cluniacs, 67; placed in charge of precentor, who is called also _armarius_, _ibid._; same provisions in force at Abingdon, 68; at Evesham, 69; word used for a library by the Carthusians, 69; described in Augustinian Customs, 71; what this piece of furniture was, 81-96; the _armarium commune_, 82; this described and figured at Fossa Nuova, _ibid._; Worcester Cathedral, 84; Kirkstall, 85; Meaux, 86; at Titchfield, 87; Durham, 93; book-presses in cloister at Durham and Westminster, 90-94; in France, 94; examples of presses at Bayeux, Obazine, and S. Germain l'Auxerrois, 94-96; supervision of press at S. Augustine's, Canterbury, 99 _armarius_ (who is also Precentor): has charge of library in Cluniac Houses, 67, 73; in Augustinian, 71; provides for borrowing as well as lending books among the Premonstratensians, 72 Arts: books required for course in, at Cambridge, 147 Assisi: library at, catalogued 1381, 73; analysis of this, 206, 207 Assur-bani-pal, King of Nineveh: library in his palace, 2 Astrolabe: in library of Anne de Beaujeu, 303 Athens: notices of ancient libraries at, 5; library built by Hadrian, 6, 16 Attalus, King: note on his stoa at Athens, 11, _note_ Augustine (S.): directions about church library at Hippo, 63 Augustine (S.), Benedictine House at Canterbury: extract from custumary on care of MSS., 76; rules for use of carrells, 99; organisation of library in cloister, _ibid._ Augustinians: rules for books in force among, 71 Augustus: builds libraries in Rome, 12; porticus Octaviæ, _ibid._; temple and area of Apollo Palatinus, 14; their organisation, 18 Autun, Collège d', Paris: library at, 166 Bale, John, laments loss of monastic libraries, 246 Bamberg: chained book from monastery, 159 _banca_ or _bancus_: meaning discussed, 242 Bancroft, Abp, his library brought to Cambridge, 253 Barber Surgeons, Lond.: books in their library chained 1639, 265 Barberini: library in their palace at Rome, 316 Bateman, Will., Bp of Norwich: his library statute for Trinity Hall, 136; division of his library, 144 Bayeux, Cathedral: press called _Le Chartrier_ described and figured, 94; library at, 125 Beaulieu, Cistercian Abbey: book-room, 86; book-recesses in wall of cloister, 89 Benedict (S.): passage in his Rule respecting study, 66 Benedictines: decrees given to English monks of the Order by Abp Lanfranc, 67; customs in force at S. Benoit-sur-Loire, 68, _note_; at Abingdon, Berks, _ibid._; at Evesham, Worcestershire, 69; their books bestowed in wooden presses, 84; arrangement adopted at Durham, 90 Benoit (S.)-sur-Loire: customs quoted, 68, _note_; endowment of library, 79 Bicester: school library, 262 Bobbio: library, 102 Bodleian Library, Oxf.: description, as fitted up by Sir T. Bodley, 185; chains taken off 1757, 266; inconvenience of chaining, 266; new bookcases on wall-system, 275 Boethius: decoration of his library, 41; view of a library in MS. of his _Cons. of Phil._, 163, 164 Bolton, Lanc.: school, 264 Book-room: in Cistercian Houses, 84-89; at Fossa Nuova, 83 Boys, John: his library, 317 Brandolini, A.: epigram on library of Sixtus IV., 211 Brasenose Coll., Oxf.: library statute, 137; chains taken off 1780, 266 _breve_ or _brevis_ = a book-ticket: in Cluniac Customs, 67; in Lanfranc's decrees for Benedictines, 68 Brewster, Will.: bequeathes books to All Saints' Ch., Hereford, 262 Budge, Dr Wallis: note on Mesopotamian discoveries, 4 Bury, Lanc.: library in school, 263 Bury S. Edmunds: use of carrells, 98; cloister glazed with stained glass, 100; library built 1429-45, 108 Busts in Roman libraries: _see_ Portraits Cæsar, Julius: intends to build public library in Rome, 12 Cæsarea: library, 62 Calder Abbey: portion of book-room, 88 Canterbury; _see_ Christ Church, Canterbury Canterbury Coll., Oxf.: library furnished from Christ Church, Canterbury, 143 _capsa_; box for carrying rolls, 30 Cardinal Coll., Oxf.; library statute, 137 Carols: _see_ Carrells Carpenter, John (Bp of Worcester): his library foundation, 126 Carpet: books to be laid out on, in Chapter House for annual audit in Cluniac Houses, 67; in Benedictine, 68 Carrells: in cloister at Durham, 90; detailed account of, with ground plan of a window, 96; at Westminster Abbey, 92, 93; series of, in stone, at Gloucester, 96-98; general considerations as to arrangement, 98; instances of their use in various houses, _ibid._; by whom to be used, 99 Carthusians: rules for books in force among, 69 Cartmel, Lanc.: books to be chained in churchwarden's pew, 258 Cassiodorus: his _Codex grandior_ mentioned, 40; intended college in Rome, 44; monastery, library, and _scriptorium_ at Vivarium, _ibid._ Catharine (S.) Coll., Camb.: number of books in library, 145; new cases, 285 Cedar: _see_ Citrus Cesena: description of library, 199-203 Chaining: books chained in S. Mary's Ch., Oxf., cent, xiii., 132; at Peterhouse, Camb., 135, 145; Trinity Hall, 136, 168; New Coll., Oxf., 137; indiscriminate chaining forbidden, 138; system in use at Zutphen explained, 153-159; in Stadtbibliothek at Nuremberg, 163; at Sorbonne, Paris, 164; Collège d'Autun, 166; S. Victor, _ibid._; inconvenience of, at Oxf., 172; at Hereford described, 174-8; at Merton Coll., Oxf., 181, 182; traces of, at S. John's Coll., Oxf., 185; at Cathedral Library, Wells, 189; at Cesena, 203; on printed book from Hungary now at Ghent, 204; chains bought for Vatican Library, 219; at Medicean library, Florence, 238-240; at Grantham, 257; Cartmel, 258; Gorton, 259; Chetham library, Manchester, 260; Wimborne, 261; Denchworth, 262; All Saints', Hereford, _ibid._; Abingdon, Berks, _ibid._; Bicester, _ibid._; Guildford, 263; instances of late use of chaining, 264; Faculty of Medicine, Paris, _ibid._; Corpus Christi Coll., Camb., _ibid._; Gray's Inn, _ibid._; S. John's Coll., Gonville and Caius Coll., Peterhouse, Trinity Coll., Camb., 265; Library of Barber Surgeons, _ibid._; wills of Sir M. Hale and M. Scrivener, _ibid._; chains taken off at various places, 266; inconvenience of, at Bodleian, _ibid._, note Chair with desk: figured in MSS., 309-312 Chapter-House: spaces divided off at west end for book-rooms in monasteries, 87-89; books read in neighbourhood of, 89 Charles V., King of France: book-chest, 293; fits up library in Louvre, _ibid._ Chest for books: bought for Vatican Library, 218; used by Simon, Abbat of S. Albans, 292; in France, 293 Chester Cathedral: arches in cloister, possibly used for books, 89 Chetham, Humphry: provisions of will, 259; library in Manchester, 260 Chichele, Abp: builds library at Canterbury, 106; account of this, 190 Christ Church, Canterbury: curse from a MS., 78; library-walk of cloister, 91; sets of nine holes, 92; carrells in use, 99; glass in cloister, 100; catalogue, saec. xii., 102; library, 106; probable extent and arrangement of this described, 190-194; Howley-Harrison library, 256 Christopher Le Stocks (S.), Lond.: library, 244 Christ's Hospital, Lond.: library, 108 Churches: libraries built in or near, 61, 64 Cirta: library, 62 Cistercians: rules for books, 70; evolution of book-room, 84-89; plan of this at Fossa Nuova, 85; Kirkstall, _ibid._; arrangement of books in, at Meaux, 86; Titchfield, 87; book-rooms at west end of Chapter House, Furness, _ibid._; Calder Abbey, 88; Fountains, _ibid._; Beaulieu, 89; Hayles _ibid._; Chester Cathedral, _ibid._ Citeaux: books chained near Chapter House, 89; arrangement of books, saec. xv., 103-106; permanent library, 109-112 Citrus: identification of tree so called, 22, _note_; used to preserve rolls, 29 Clairvaux: curse used, 78; books chained near Chapter House, 89; library, 112-4; catalogue of this discussed, 196-8; nature of fittings, 198 Clare Coll., Camb.: account of old library, 186; new cases put up 1627, _ibid._; their plan discussed, 187; new library fitted up, 285 _class_: meaning of word discussed, 243 _claustrum sine armario_ etc., 75 Cleopatra: receives library of Pergamon from Antony, 8 Cloister: the centre of monastic life, 80; work interrupted by cold and bad weather, _ibid._; activity at S. Martin's, Tournai, 81; arrangements at Durham described, 90; illustrated by reference to Westminster Abbey, 91-94; was glazed at Durham, 90; in other Houses, 100 Cluniacs: regulations in their Customs respecting books, 67; date of these Customs, 68, _note_; book-room in their priory at Much Wenlock, 87 Cobham, Thomas: library, Oxf., 148-151; stained glass in windows, 242 Codex, a book: how accommodated, 36, 37; figured on tomb of Galla Placidia, 39 Codex Amiatinus: representation of _armarium_ described, 40 Cold, in cloister, 80 _columpna_: a set of shelves, 87 _communes libri_; meaning of term, 82 Corbie: note from MS. once belonging to, 75, _note_; injunction to use a MS. at, carefully, 77 and _note_; endowment of library, 79 _cornua_: used for the knobs of a roll, 28 Corpus Christi Coll., Camb.: books chained 1523, 264 Corpus Christi Coll., Oxf.: library statute, 137, 138; provisions against indiscriminate chaining, 138; fittings supplied 1517, 172; a type of the stall-system, _ibid._; elevation of one bookcase, 173 Cosma e Damiano: church of, in Rome, 25, 26 Crates (of Mallus): his visit to Rome and influence there, 14 Creighton, Rob., Bp of Wells: fits up cathedral library, 188 Croxden, Cistercian Abbey: book-room, 86 Cruas, on the Rhone: book-press in the church, 94 Cupboards: in thickness of wall, 313 Curses, on those who steal or damage MSS., 77 Cuthbert, Abbat of Wearmouth: his scribes paralysed with cold, 80 Damasus, Pope: his archivum or Record Office, 42 _demonstratio_: meaning discussed, 243 Demosthenes: statue of, to shew way of holding roll, 27; replica of his statue at Knowle Park, _ibid._, note Denchworth: library in church, 262 De Rossi: theory respecting S. Lorenzo in Damaso, 42; of the use of a triple apse, 63 Derr: library at, explored by Dr W. Budge, 4 _descus_: meaning discussed, 242 _distinctio_: word used in catalogue of Dover Priory, 194-196; meaning discussed, 196, 243 [Greek: Diphthera] = cover of a roll, 29; coloured purple, 29 Dolci, Giovannino dei: supplies bookcases to Vatican Library, 218 _domuncula_: a compartment of a bookcase, 244 Dover, Priory of S. Martin at: introduction to catalogue translated, 194 Durham: description of the book-presses and carrells in the cloister, 90; _armarium commune_, 93; plan of window and account of carrells, 96-99; library at, saec. xii., 102; enumeration of books at, saec. xiv., 103; library at, built 1446, 107; library fitted up by Dean Sudbury, saec. xvii., 189 Durham Coll., Oxf.: library, 142 Ely: endowment of _scriptorium_ at, 79 Emmanuel Coll., Camb.: bookcases at, 54; new cases in library, 285 Endowment of libraries: at Corbie, 79; S. Martin des Champs, _ibid._; S. Benoit-sur-Loire (Fleury), _ibid._; at Ely, _ibid._ Entreaties to use books carefully, 76 [Greek: Epistulion]: use of word explained, 32, _note_ Escõrial: built by Philip II., 267; description of library, 268; of bookcases, 269; cases copied at Bibliothèque Mazarine, 273 Eton College: stained glass in Election Hall, 242; chains taken off 1719, 266 Eucherius, Bp of Lyons: describes a private library, 43 Euripides: said to have been a book-collector, 5; lines from the _Frogs_ about him quoted, _ibid._ Euthydemus, follower of Socrates: his library, 5 Evesham, Benedictine House in Worcestershire: customs respecting books, 69; carrells, 99 _fenestra_ = cupboard: in rule of S. Pachomius, 64; meaning of word discussed, 65, note Fleury, Abbey at: _see_ Benoit (S.)-sur-Loire _forulus_ = cell: receptacle for rolls in Roman libraries, 31 Fossa Nuova: book-press at, described and figured, 82; plan and description of book-room, 85 Fountains Abbey: position of book-rooms at, 89 foxtails: bought to dust Vatican Library, 232 Francis (S.): reproves a brother who asked for a psalter, 72, _note_ Franciscans: provisions respecting books, 72; their libraries described in the _Philobiblon_, _ibid._ Froidmont: glass in library, 242 _frons_: used for the edge of a roll, 28; was evidently visible, 34 Furness Abbey: book-rooms at west end of chapter-house, 87 Gall (S.): library at, 102 Galla Placidia: book-press on her tomb, 39 Gatien, S., Tours, church of: chained library at, 1718, 266 Geneviève, S., Paris: description of library, 289 Germain (S.) des Près, Paris: library open to strangers, 75; expansion of library at, 114-6; fittings described, 289 Germain (S.) l'Auxerrois, church of: wooden press in, described, 95 Ghirlandajo, the brothers: engaged to decorate Vatican Library, 211; their work described, 213 Glass: in certain cloisters, 100 Glastonbury: feelings of Leland on entering Library, 194 Globes: in Vatican Library, 229; in library of S. Geneviève, 289 Gloucester Cathedral: library-walk of cloister, 91; sets of nine holes, 92; stone carrells described and figured, 96-98; library, 107 Gonville Hall, Camb.: curse from breviary used at, 79 Gonville and Caius Coll., Camb.: bookcases at, 254; chaining of books bequeathed by Dr Caius, 265 Gorton: bookcase, 259 _gradus_ = a shelf, 87, _note_; used with same meaning at Dover Priory, 194-196; a side of a lectern, 167 Grammar Schools: _see_ Libraries Grantham: library, 257 Gray's Inn: bequest of books to be chained, 264 Gregory (S.) the Great: notice of his monastery at Rome, 44 Grönendaal: library, 108 Guildford: chain in library of Grammar School, 157; further account of this, 263 Hadrian: library built by him in Athens, 16-18; similarity of plan between it and Pergamon, 18 Hale, Sir Matt.: his books given to Lincoln's Inn 1676 to be chained, 265 Hawkesmoore, N.: builds library and bookcases at Queen's College, Oxford, 256 Hayles, Cistercian Abbey: book-room, 86; arches possibly used as book-recesses, 89 Herculaneum: library, 23-25 Hereford, All Saints' Ch.: library, 262 Hereford Chapter Library: notes on, 174; chaining described, 174-8 Hippo: library, 63 Hobart, Nich.: his bookcase at King's College, Cambridge, 254 Honywood, Mich.: builds library at Lincoln Cathedral, 276 Hook, to hold up desk, 179 Horace: advice to his friend Celsus respecting the Palatine library, 19 Howley-Harrison Library, Canterbury, 256 Humphrey, D. of Gloucester: his MSS. at Oxford, 247 _index_ = ticket bearing the title of a roll, 28; of some bright colour, 29; used in Cicero's library, 33 Isidore, Bp of Seville: on library of Pollio at Rome, 12; on decoration of libraries, 41; account of his own library, 45, 46 Ivory: books written on, 20 Jerome (S.): advises consultation of church-libraries, 62; on library at Cæsarea, _ibid._; collated there MSS. used by Origen, _ibid._ Jerusalem: library, 62 Jervaulx, Cistercian Abbey: book-room, 86 Jesus Coll., Camb.: equidistant windows of library, 148; glass in library, 242; bookcases, 254 Jews: used _armaria_ in synagogues to contain the rolls of the law, 39, _note_ John (S.) the Baptist, Coll., Oxf.: library statute at, 137; library described, 185; John (S.) the Evangelist, Coll., Camb.: equidistant windows in old library, 148; contract for desks, 160; book chained at, 1564, 265; library built 1623-1628, 248-251 Jumièges: curse from MS. at, 78 Juniper: bought to fumigate Vatican Library, 232 Kederminster, Sir John: founds library at Langley, 258 Kempis, Thomas à: quotation from, on desolate condition of priest and convent without books, 75; injunction to use MSS. carefully, 77 King's Coll., Camb.: library statute, 137; number of books in library 1453, 145; bookcase by bequest from N. Hobart, 254; Cole's account of library, 255; chains taken off 1777, 266 Kirkstall Abbey: the _armarium commune_, 85 Kouyunjik: library, discovered by Layard, 2; criticised by Dr W. Budge, 4 Lanciani. R.: discovers a private library in Rome, 22; describes record-house of Vespasian, 26 Lanfranc, Abp: decree respecting use of books, 67 Langley Marye: library, 258 Lateran Museum, Rome: sculpture representing actor with masks, 36 Layard: library discovered by him at Kouyunjik, 2 Leaver, James: gives press to Bolton school, Lancashire, 264 Lectern-system: fittings in early libraries so named, 151-153; at Zutphen, 153-159; Queens' Coll., Camb., 151, 159; Pembroke Coll., S. John's Coll., Peterhouse, Camb., 160; Lincoln Cathedral, 161; MS. Mus. Brit., 162; Nuremberg, 163; the Sorbonne, Paris, 164; the Collège d'Autun, Paris, 166; Monastery of S. Victor, Paris, 166; Trinity Hall, Camb., 168; MS. Fitzwilliam Mus., 169; at University of Leyden, 170; Cesena, 199-203; S. Mark, Florence, 203; Monte Oliveto, _ibid._; Assisi, 206; Vatican, 225; Medicean Library, Florence, 235-240; in private houses, 297-301 _lectrinum_ = desk, 161 Leland, John: his feelings on entering library at Glastonbury, 194 Lepidus, Domitius: temple built by him in Rome, 13 _liber_ = book: decision of the jurist Ulpian as to what is included under this category, 37 Librarian: _see_ Precentor--Armarius LIBRARIES, Assyrian: at Kouyunjik, discovered by Layard, 2-4; at Derr, 4 Libraries of Cathedrals: 116-128; Lincoln, 117, 161; Salisbury, 121; Old S. Paul's, 122; Wells, 123; Lichfield, 123; Noyon, 124; Bayeux, 125; York, 125; Troyes, 126; Worcester, 126; Rouen, 128 Libraries, Christian: situated in or near churches, 61; at Jerusalem, 62; at Cæsarea, _ibid._; at Cirta, _ibid._; at Hippo, 63; use of the triple apse, 63 Libraries of Colleges: statutes of Merton Coll., Oxford, 133; University, 133; Oriel, 133; Peterhouse, Cambridge, 134; Trinity Hall, 136; New Coll., Oxford, 137; All Souls', 137; Magdalen Coll., Oxford, 138; Corpus Christi Coll., Oxford, 137, 138; Pembroke Coll., Cambridge, 139; résumé of regulations, _ibid._; loan of books from, 140; rules copied from monasteries, 141; a real library an after-thought, 143; characteristics of this, 143; number of books, 143-148; divided into lending and reference departments, 145; examples of such libraries, 148; Bp Cobham's library, Oxf., _ibid._; Queens' Coll., Camb., a type, 151, 159; fittings at Pembroke and other Coll., 160; S. John's Coll., Camb., 248-250; at Peterhouse, 251; at Gonville and Caius, Emmanuel, Jesus, Pembroke, 254; King's Coll., Camb., _ibid._; Queen's Coll., Oxf., 255 Libraries, Greek: notices of, in Athens and elsewhere, 4, 5; at Alexandria, 6; at Pergamon, 7-12 Libraries, medieval: general characteristics, 240-244 Libraries, monastic: rule of Pachomius, 64; general considerations 65; Benedictine Rule, 66; Cluniac Customs, _ibid._; decrees given to English Benedictines by Lanfranc, 67; Customs of Benedictine Houses, 68; of Carthusians, 69; of Cistercians, 70; of Augustinians, _ibid._; of Premonstratensians, 72; of Mendicants, _ibid._; general conclusions, 73; divided into library of reference and library for lending, 74; open to strangers, 75; books a necessary possession, _ibid._; protection of books, 76; curses, 77; endowment of libraries, 79; work done and books kept in the cloister, 80; furniture used, 81; _armarium commune_, 82; at Fossa Nuova, _ibid._; at Worcester, 84; evolution of Cistercian book-room, 84-89; arrangements in Benedictine Houses, 90; at Westminster Abbey, 91-94; supervision at S. Augustine's, Canterbury, 99; decoration, 100; growth of, 101; at S. Riquier, S. Gall, Bobbio, Lorsch, Durham, Canterbury, 102; construction of a special library, 106; at Canterbury, _ibid._; Durham and Gloucester, 107; Winchester, S. Albans, Worcester, Bury S. Edmunds, S. Victor, Paris, Franciscans of London, 108; Citeaux, 109-112; Clairvaux, 112-114; S. Germain des Près, Paris, 114; destruction in England, 246; extension of their libraries in France in 17th cent., 287; library of Jesuits at Rheims, 287-289; of S. Geneviève, Paris, 289; S. Germain des Près, _ibid._; Monte Cassino, 290 Libraries, parochial: at Grantham, 257; at Langley Marye, 258; Cartmel, _ibid._; will of H. Chetham, 259; Gorton, _ibid._; Turton, _ibid._; Wimborne Minster, 261; Denchworth, 262; All Saints', Hereford, _ibid._; Abingdon, _ibid._ Libraries, private: books kept in chests, 292; tower in Louvre fitted up as library, 293; illustration of this, 294; a Carmelite in his study, 296; a scholar's chair, 297; lectern, 297-9; _Ship of Fools_, 298; library of Margaret of Austria, 299-302; of Anne de Beaujeu, 302; Italian lectern, 304; wheel-desk, 304-8; chairs with desk, 309-312; desks used in Italy, 312; wall-cupboards, 313; scholar's room, 314; study of Duke of Urbino, _ibid._; of Montaigne, 315; Palazzo Barberini, 316; library of Dean Boys, 317 Libraries, Roman (B.C.): intention of Julius Cæsar to build a library, 12; library of C. Asinius Pollio, _ibid._; decorated with busts of departed authors, _ibid._; works of Augustus, _ibid._; Porticus Octaviæ, 12-14; temple and area of Apollo, 14; other public libraries, 15; of Tiberius, Vespasian, Trajan, _ibid._; of Hadrian at Athens, 16-18; organisation of Roman libraries, 18; composition of Palatine library, _ibid._; description by Ovid, _ibid._; advice of Horace respecting, 19; library of Tiberius, _ibid._; of Vespasian in templo Pacis, _ibid._; of Trajan (bibliotheca Ulpia), _ibid._; loan of books from public collections, 20; fittings, 36; private libraries: of Lucullus, 20, 21; fashion for book-collecting denounced by Seneca, 21; library in Via dello Statuto discovered by Lanciani, 22; at Herculaneum, 23; near Rome, as described by Martial, 31; record-house of Vespasian, 26, 27; contents of Roman libraries, 27-30; fittings of Roman libraries: discussion of words used, 30-33; what the furniture so designated was, 34, 35; representation found at Neumagen, 35; desk for rolls in Lateran Museum, 36; presses (_armaria_), 36-41 Libraries, Roman (A.D.): decoration mentioned by Boethius, 41; by Isidore, 41, 42; library described by Eucherius, 43; of pope Agapetus, 44; of Isidore, Bp of Seville, 45; summary of pagan conception of a library, 47; illustrated by Vatican Library of Sixtus V., 47-60 Libraries of Schools: Abingdon, 262; Bicester, _ibid._; Rivington, _ibid._; Guildford, 263; Bury, _ibid._; Bolton, 264 _Library_ = bookcase, 244 Lichfield Cathedral: library, 123 Lincoln Cathedral: library, 117; desks described, 161 _linea_: a shelf for books, 105, _note_; at Saint Ouen, 244 Linen: books written on, 20 L'Isle, Roger: gives books to Oxford, 132 Loan of books: from public libraries in Rome, 20 Loan of books (for external use): allowed at Abingdon, 68; Evesham, 69; among Carthusians, 70; Augustinians, 71; Premonstratensians, 72; enjoined on monks by Council of Paris 1212, 74; books bequeathed that they may be lent, 75; one House lent to another, _ibid._; to Oxford scholars, 132; prescribed in College Statutes, 133-137; instances of, at Merton Coll., 140; from Vatican Library, 230-1 Loan of books (to brethren on written attestation): among Cluniacs, 67; Benedictines, 68; Augustinians, 71; probable meaning of this provision, 74, note _loculamentum_ = pigeon-hole: receptacle for rolls in Roman libraries, 31, 32 _lora_ = straps to keep rolls closed, 29 Lorenzo in Damaso: church, 42 Lorsch: library, 102 Louvre: library fitted up, 293 Lucullus: library described, 20, 21 _Lumen animae_: chained book so called, 203 Magdalen Coll., Oxf.: library statute at, 137 Margaret of Austria: library described, 299-302 Mark, S., Florence, Dominican Convent of: library, 205 Martin (S.) des Champs, Paris: endowment of library, 79 Martin (S.), at Tournai: literary work in cloister, 81 Mary (S.) Church in Oxf.: books chained, 132 Matthew (S.): Hebrew original of his Gospel at Cæsarea, 62 Mazarin, Cardinal, library of: described, 272-274; furniture noted by Wren, 276 Meaux, in Holderness: book-room at, and arrangement, 86 Medicean Library, Florence: described, 234-240 Medicine, Faculty of, Paris: books chained in library 1509, 264 Melozzo da Forli: engaged to paint in Vatican Library, 212; his work described, 214 Mendicants: libraries, 72 Merton Coll., Oxf.: library statute, 133; choice and loan of books, 140; reception of a gift, 141; description of library, 178-185; history, 183; sale of old bookcases, _ibid._; new cases supplied to south library 1623, 184; chains taken off 1792, 266 Mesmin (Saint): curse from MS., 77, 78, and _note_ Metellus, Quintus: share in building the Porticus Octaviæ, 13; plan may have been derived from Pergamon, 14 Michelangelo: builds Medicean Library, 234; his sketch for the bookcases, 236 Micklethwaite, J. T.: his plan of Westminster Abbey, 91 Monastic influence at Oxf. and Camb., 142 Montaigne: visits Vatican Library 6 March, 1581, 230; describes his own library, 315 Monte Cassino: library described, 290 Monte Oliveto, Benedictine Convent of: library, 205 Much Wenlock, Cluniac Priory: book-room, 87 Navarre, Collège de: library, 165 Netley, Cistercian Abbey: book-room, 86 Neumagen near Trèves: representation of a library found at, 34, and _note_ New College, Oxford: library statute, 137 _nidus_ = pigeon-hole: receptacle for rolls in Roman libraries, 30, 31 Noyon Cathedral: library, 124 Nuremberg: chained books in Stadtbibliothek, 163 Nuzio, Matteo: builds library at Cesena, 199 Obazine, in Central France: book-press described and figured, 95 Odo, Abbat of S. Martin at Tournai: promotes work in cloister, 81 Ordericus Vitalis: his work stopped by cold, 80 _ordo_: a shelf, 244 Oriel Coll., Oxf.: library statute, 133-134 Ouen, Saint: library, 244 Ovid: lines from the _Tristia_ describing Palatine library, 18 Oxford: destruction of MSS. 1549, 247 Pachomius (S.): provisions of his rule, 64, 65, _note_ Palatine library, Rome: _see_ Apollo Pamphilus: founds library at Cæsarea, 62 Parchment: story of its invention at Pergamon, 8 Parkhurst, Bp John: bequeathes books to Guildford school, 263 Paul, S., London, Cathedral: library, 122; library built by Wren, 282-4 Paulinus, Bp of Nola: describes use of apse in basilica built by himself, 63 Peace, library in Temple of, at Rome: _see_ Vespasian _pegmata_ = shelves: use and meaning discussed, 32; in Cicero's library, 33; conclusion respecting, 34 Peisistratus, tyrant of Athens: said to have collected a library, 5 Pembroke Coll., Camb.: library statute, 139; library fittings, 160; bookcases at, 254 Peñiscola: library of Boniface XIII., 244 Pergamon: description of site, 7; foundation of library by Eumenes II., 8; given to Cleopatra by Antony, _ibid._; plan of temple and precinct of Athena, 9; account of German exploration, 9-11; plan possibly copied at Rome by Q. Metellus, 14; described to Romans by Crates of Mallus, _ibid._; copied by Hadrian at Athens, 18; by Pope Damasus at Rome, 42 Peter (S.), Liverpool, Ch. of: books bequeathed by John Fells, mariner, 1815, to be chained, 266 Peterborough: cloister windows glazed, 100 Peterhouse, Camb.: library statutes, 134-136; discussion of catalogue dated 1418, 145-148; lecterns in old library, 160; bookcases put up between 1641 and 1648, 251; chaining of books bequeathed by Dr Perne 1588, 265 Peter (S.) Mancroft, Norwich: wooden press in vestry, 96, _note_ Philobiblon: description of libraries of Mendicants quoted from, 72; injunction to handle MSS. carefully, 76, _note_; book-chest prescribed in, 297 Pigeon-hole system: used in Roman libraries, 47 Pilkington, Bp James: statutes for school at Rivington, 262 Platina, Bartolommeo: appointed librarian of Vatican, 208; engages a binder, 209; writes inscription in Latin library, 215; rooms for himself and his assistants, 216; orders desks for Latin library, 217; selects subjects for frescoes in Ospedale di Santo Spirito, 225; his assistants, 231-2; provides all articles required for maintenance, 232 Pliny (the younger): describes _armarium_ sunk in wall of his bedroom, 38 _pluteus_ = shelf: use of word discussed and illustrated, 32, 33, 34 Pollio, C. Asinius: builds a library and an _atrium libertatis_ in Rome B.C. 39, 12 Polycrates, tyrant of Samos: said to have collected a library, 4 Pompeii: reproduction of fresco shewing way to hold roll, 27 Pontis, Wm.: builds staircase in Rouen Cathedral, 129 Porticus Octaviæ, 12-14 Portraits of departed authors used to decorate libraries: at Pergamon, 11; by C. Asinius Pollio, 12; by Augustus, 14; in private libraries, 35; inscriptions accompanying them, _ibid._; described by Eucherius, Bp of Lyons, in a private library, 43; in library designed by pope Agapetus, 44 Precentor: called also _armarius_ and entrusted with care of books by Cluniacs, 67; Benedictines, 68; Augustinians, 71; Premonstratensians, 72; supervises use of press at S. Augustine's, Canterbury, 99 Premonstratensians: rules for books among, 72 _Procurator bibliothecarum_: officer appointed by Augustus, 18 Protection of MSS.: rule for holding a MS., 76; hands to be clean, _ibid._; handkerchiefs to be wrapped round, _ibid._; entreaties to use carefully, _ibid._; curses on those who damage or steal, 77 Queens' Coll., Camb.: number of books in library 1472, 145; equidistant windows of library, 148; library selected as type, 151; analysis of catalogue dated 1472, 167 Queen's Coll., Oxf.: library built by Hawkesmoore, 255 Ramsey Abbey, Hunts: bad weather in cloister at, 80 Remi, S., at Rheims: library belonging to, 286 Reserved library: in collegiate libraries, 145; at Assisi, 207; at Vatican, 211 Rheims: library of S. Remi, 286; of the Jesuits, 287 Riquier (S.): library, 102 Rivington: school library, 262; Bp Pilkington's statute for, _ibid._ Roche, Cistercian Abbey: book-room, 86 _roe_, a wheel = a book-desk, 294; explained, 295; illustrated, 304-308 Rolls: dimensions, use, etc., 27; fastened to stick, 28; this decorated with knobs (_cornua_), _ibid._; edges (_frontes_) of roll cut, _ibid._; ticket (_index_) appended, 29; closed with straps (_lora_), _ibid._; wrapped in covers, _ibid._; carried in a _capsa_ or _scrinium_, 30; receptacles for, 30-34; desk for reading, 36; _armarium_ to contain, 37 Rome: _see_ Libraries, Roman Rouen: Cathedral library, 128-130 Salisbury: Cathedral library, 121 Sarcophagus: in Mus. Naz., Rome, with shoemaker at work in front of a press, 38; in Villa Balestra, with physician reading, _ibid._ _scrinium_: box for carrying rolls, 30 Scriptorium: endowment, at Ely, 79; at S. Albans, 80 Scrivener, Matt.: bequeathes £50 to Univ. Library, Camb., 1687, to buy chains, 265 _sedile_: meaning discussed, 243 Sellyng, Prior, at Canterbury: sets up carrells in the cloister, 99; glazes the windows, 100; fits up library, 106 Seneca: denounces fashion for book-collecting, 21 _Ship of Fools_: lectern used in, 297 Shiryngton, Walt.: builds library at Old S. Paul's Cathedral, 122 [Greek: sillibos] = ticket bearing the name of a roll, 29; used in Cicero's library, 33 Simon, abbat of S. Albans: book-chest, 292 _solarium_ = press, 207 Sorbonne: library, 164; glass in windows of library, 242 _spalera_ or _spalliera_: a settle, 228 Stained glass: instances of, in libraries, 241 _stalla_ or _stallum_: meaning discussed, 242 Stall-system: term explained, 172; type at Corp. Chr. Coll., Oxf., _ibid._; description of these cases, 173; chaining used, 174-8; fittings at Merton Coll., Oxf., 178-185; at S. John the Baptist Coll., Trinity Coll., Bodl. Library, Oxford, 185; at Clare Coll., Camb., 186; Westminster Abbey, 187; Wells Cathedral, 188; Durham Cath., 189; origin probably monastic, 190; Christ Church, Cant., 190-4; Clairvaux, 196-8; Howley-Harrison library at Canterbury, 256 Student-monks: at Oxf. and Camb., 142 Sudbury, John, dean of Durham: fits up Frater as library, 189 _tabula_, board covered with wax and parchment to record loan of books, 139 _textus_ = bookshelf: at Ch. Ch., Canterbury, 192, 243 _theca_: a shelf or cupboard, 87, _note_ Theodmarus Cassinensis: his letter to Charlemagne quoted, 76 and _note_ Tiberius, Emperor: his library in Rome, 15, 16; this mentioned by Aulus Gellius, 19; contained public records, _ibid._ Tibur = Tivoli: story of library in temple of Hercules, 20 Tintern, Cistercian Abbey: book-room, 86 Titchfield: book-room and arrangement, 87 _titulus_ = ticket bearing the name of a roll, 28 Tournai: _see_ Martin (S.) Trajan: library in his forum in Rome, 15; statements of Aulus Gellius and Vopiscus respecting, 19; described by Nibby, 37 _trichora_; applied to a triple apse, 63; use of the word by Dioscorides, 64 Trigg, Fra.: founds library at Grantham, 257 Trinity Coll., Camb.: chaining of books given in 1601, 265; Wren's library built, 277-281 Trinity Hall, Camb.: library statute, 136; library described, 168 Troyes: library in Cathedral, 126 Turton: library, 259 Udine, Giovanni da: supplies stained glass to Medicean Library, 235 Ulpian, jurist: decisions respecting libraries and their furniture, 37 Ulpian library, at Rome: _see_ Trajan _umbilicus_ = stick to which roll was fastened, 28 Universities: visited by Commissioners of Edward VI., 247 University Coll., Oxf.: library statute, 133 University Library, Camb.: subjects of books catalogued 1424, 144; ditto 1473, 145; bookcases supplied to, 1731-4, 285 Urbino: account of library, 233; private study of Duke, 314 Varro, M. Terentius: employed by C. Julius Cæsar to collect books for his intended library, 12; his bust admitted into Pollio's library, _ibid._ Vatican Library of Sixtus IV.: description of, 208-32; appointment of Platina as librarian, 208; selection of site, 209; fourfold division, 211; purchase of materials, _ibid._; engagement of artists, _ibid._; door of entrance made, 212; Latin Library described, _ibid._; its decoration, 213; Greek Library described, _ibid._; its decoration, 215; Bibliotheca secreta described, _ibid._; Bibliotheca pontificia, _ibid._; glazing of the windows, 216; rooms for librarians, _ibid._; bookcases for Latin library ordered, 217; for _Bibliotheca secreta_, _ibid._; catalogue-frames and coffers ordered, 218; cases for _Bibliotheca pontificia_ ordered, _ibid._; chains bought, 219; information derived from catalogues, 220-4; contemporary fresco representing library, 225; arrangement of cases in the four rooms, 226-9; globes and brazier, 229; rule for good behaviour in, 1513, _ibid._; visit of Montaigne, 230; loans from, 230-1; staff of library, 231; maintenance of, 232 Vatican Library of Sixtus V.: type of an ancient Roman library, 47; summary account of decoration, 48; detailed do., 49-60 Versailles: libraries of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, 287 Verses: by Martial, to be placed under his own portrait, 35; by Isidore of Seville, for the presses in his library, 45 Vespasian: his library in Rome _in templo Paris_, 15; statement of Aulus Gellius respecting, 19; his record-office, now church of SS. Cosma e Damiano, 25 Victor (S.), Paris: books bequeathed to, on condition of loan, 75; library open to strangers, _ibid._; lines from MSS. at, admonishing readers to be careful, 76; curse habitually used at, 77, _note_; library built at, 1501-8, 108; catalogue of library analysed, 166-7 Villa Balestra, Rome: sarcophagus, 38 Vivarium, near Squillace: monastery of Cassiodorus near, 44 _volumen_ = roll, 27-30; box for, 30; fittings of libraries adapted to, 34; representation of one of these, 35 Wall-system: name proposed, 267; library of Escõrial, 267-270; Ambrosian Library at Milan, 271; Bibliothèque Mazarine, 272-274 Wells Cathedral: library at, 123; described, 188 Wessyngton, Prior: builds library at Durham, 107 Westminster Abbey: plan of cloister at, 91; account of library in, 91-94; carrells, 92, 93; resemblance to Gloucester, 98; library fitted up 1623-4, 187 Wheel-desk: _see_ roe Whethamstede, John: builds library at S. Albans, 108; at Gloucester House, Oxf., 142 Whittington, Sir R.: builds library at Christ's Hospital 1421, 108 Williams, John, Bp of Lincoln: fits up dorter at Westminster Abbey as library 1623-4, 187; builds library at S. John's Coll., Camb., 248-251 Wimborne: Minster library, 261 Winchester: position of library, 108 Winckelmann, J. J.: description of library at Herculaneum, 25 Wings, attached to bookcases: at Peterhouse, Camb., 252; at University Library, 253; at Pembroke Coll., 254 Worcester Cathedral: book-recesses in cloister at, 84; library at, 108; Bishop Carpenter's library-foundation, 126-8 Wren, Sir C.: visits Paris, 276; builds library at Lincoln Cathedral, 277; at Trinity College, Cambridge, 277-281; at S. Paul's Cathedral, London, 282-4 Wren, Matt.: account of Pembroke Coll. library, 139, 160 York: Cathedral library, 125 Zutphen: library described, 153-159 CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY J. AND C. F. CLAY, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.