Part 14
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.