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.
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.