Thomas Frognall Dibdin - A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Two

T >> Thomas Frognall Dibdin >> A Bibliographical, Antiquarian and Picturesque Tour in France and Germany, Volume Two

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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 College 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 College
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 "Confreres" at the
Bibliotheque 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 dejeune a 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 confreres bibliographiques of the Royal Library. Several
other literary _distingues_ were of the party: and we sat down, a very
agreeable melange, both to gossip and to eat and drink. M. Langles 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 LANGLES. The _forte_ of M. Langles 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. Langles is eclipsed by no one for that "gaiete 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. Langles 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
Langles.

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. Langles?" "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.
Langles 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. Langles 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. Langles; 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,
LANGLES, 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. Coeure 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 the poet. He afterwards chanted
a song: his own literal version of the XIXth ode of Anacreon, beginning
[Greek: He ge 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. Langles 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 Francaise, est
ainsi rapportee par l'auteur. M. l'Abbe Betencourt, aura dit a peu
pres: "Il mourra sans laisser d'eleve." M. Dibdin qui parle et entend
fort bien le Francais, EST IL EXCUSABLE DE FAIRE MAL PARLER UN
ACADEMICIEN FRANCAIS, et surtout de rendre vicieuses presque toutes
les phrases qu'il veut citer textuellement? L'exactitude!
l'exactitude! C'est la premiere vertu du bibliographe; on ne saurait
trop le repeter a M. Dibdin." CRAPELET. vol. iv. 124. Quaere 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 _Abbe Betencourt_,
credit for this bad speaking?

[158] [In a short, and pleasing, memoir of him, in the _Revue
Encyclopedique, 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 debarrasser d'une richesse qui m'est a charge, et
ne convient nullement a 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 Francois_. 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.

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