CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF THE VICISSITUDES THAT BEFEL THE
"LUCRETIUS" OF THE PRIOR DE VENDÔME
Léger-Massieu, successor to Léger senior, the binder, whose
establishment was in the rue de l'Abbaye, opposite the old Hôtel of the
Abbés of Saint Germain-des-Près, in the hotbed of ancient schools and
learned societies, employed an excellent but by no means numerous staff
of workmen, and served with leisurely deliberation a clientèle who had
learned to practise the virtue of patience. Six weeks had elapsed since
he had received the parcel of books that had been despatched by Monsieur
Sariette, but still Léger-Massieu had not yet put the work in hand. It
was not until fifty-three days had come and gone, that, after calling
over the books against the list that had been drawn up by Monsieur
Sariette, the binder gave them out to his workmen. The little
_Lucretius_ with the Prior de Vendôme's arms not being mentioned on the
list, it was assumed that it had been sent by another customer.
And as it did not figure on any list of goods received it remained shut
up in a cupboard, from which Léger-Massieu's son, the youthful Ernest,
one day surreptitiously abstracted it, and slipped it into his pocket.
Ernest was in love with a neighbouring seamstress whose name was Rose.
Rose was fond of the country, and liked to hear the birds singing in the
woods, and in order to procure the wherewithal to take her to Chatou one
Sunday and give her a dinner, Ernest parted with the _Lucretius_ for ten
francs to old Moranger, a second-hand dealer in the rue Saint X----, who
displayed no great curiosity regarding the origin of his acquisitions.
Old Moranger handed over the volume, the very same day, to Monsieur
Poussard, an expert in books, of the faubourg Saint Germain, for sixty
francs. The latter removed the stamp which disclosed the ownership of
the matchless copy, and sold it for five hundred francs to Monsieur
Joseph Meyer, the well-known collector, who handed it straight away for
three thousand francs to Monsieur Ardon, the bookseller, who immediately
transferred it to Monsieur R----, the great Parisian bibliopolist, who
gave six thousand for it, and sold it again a fortnight later at a
handsome profit to Madame la Comtesse de Gorce. Well known in the higher
ranks of Parisian society, the lady in question is what was called in
the seventeenth century a "curieuse," that is to say, a lover of
pictures, books, and china. In her mansion in the Avenue d'Jéna she
possesses collections of works of art which bear witness to the
diversity of her knowledge and the excellence of her taste. During the
month of July, while the Comtesse de Gorce was away at her château at
Sarville in Normandy, the house in the Avenue d'Jéna, being unoccupied,
was visited one night by a thief said to belong to a gang known as "The
Collectors," who made works of art the special objects of their raids.
The police enquiry elicited the fact that the marauder had reached the
first floor by means of the waste-pipe, that he had then climbed over
the balcony, forced a shutter with a jemmy, broken a pane of glass,
turned the window-fastener, and made his way into the long gallery.
There he broke open several cupboards and possessed himself of whatever
took his fancy. His booty consisted for the most part of small but
valuable articles, such as gold caskets, a few ivory carvings of the
fourteenth century, two splendid fifteenth-century manuscripts, and a
volume which the Countess's secretary briefly described as "a
morocco-bound book with a coat of arms on it," and which was none other
than the _Lucretius_ from the d'Esparvieu library.
The malefactor, who was supposed to be an English cook, was never
discovered. But, two months or so after the theft, a well-dressed,
clean-shaven young man passed down the rue de Courcelles, in the
dimness of twilight, and went to offer the Prior de Vendôme's
_Lucretius_ to Père Guinardon. The antiquary gave him four shillings for
it, examined it carefully, recognised its interest and its beauty, and
put it in the king-wood cabinet, where he kept his special treasures.
Such were the vicissitudes which, in the course of a single season,
befel this thing of beauty.