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.