FRANCE: EARLY BOOKMEN--ROYAL COLLECTORS.
We shall take Budæus as our first example of the French bookmen in the
period that followed the invention of printing. Of Guillaume Budé, to
give him his original name, it was said that he knew Greek as minutely as
the orators of the age of Demosthenes. If there was any real foundation
for the compliment it must have consisted in the fact that the Frenchman
had more acquaintance with the language than his instructor George of
Sparta. Budæus is said to have paid a very large sum for a course of
lectures on Homer, and to have been not a pennyworth the wiser at the
end. Erasmus, who also learned of the Spartan, confessed that his tutor
only 'stammered in Greek,' and that he seemed to have neither the desire
nor the capacity for teaching. It is interesting to see how these
students made the best of their bad materials. 'I have given my whole
soul to Greek,' wrote Erasmus, 'and as soon as I get any money I shall
buy books first, and then some clothes.' Budæus was known as 'the prodigy
of France,' and even Scaliger allowed that his country would never see
such a scholar again; and it is rather surprising that Erasmus should
have compared his style unfavourably with that of Badius, the printer
from Brabant.
Budæus was the first to apply the historical method to the explanation of
the Civil Law: with the assistance of Jean Grolier he brought out a very
learned treatise on ancient weights and measures; and in publishing his
commentaries on the Greek language he was said to have raised himself to
'a pinnacle of philological glory.' One of the stories about his devotion
to books may have been told of others, but is certainly characteristic of
the man. A servant rushes in to say that the house is on fire; but the
scholar answers, 'Tell my wife: you know that I never interfere with the
household.' He was married twice over, he used to say, to the Muse of
philology as well as to a mortal wife; but he confessed that he would
never have got far with the first, if the second had not commanded in the
library, always ready to look out passages and to hand down the necessary
books.
When Charles VIII. seized the royal library at Naples, a few of the best
MSS. escaped his scrutiny, and these were sold by the dispossessed King
to the Cardinal D'Amboise. A new school of illuminators at Rouen provided
the Cardinal with a number of other splendid volumes. He lived till the
year 1510, and was able to collect a second library of printed books. He
divided the whole into two portions at his death, the French books
passing to a relation and afterwards to the family of La Rochefoucauld,
and the rest forming the foundation of a fine library long possessed by
the Archbishops of Rouen.
The Archbishop Juvenal des Ursins died in the middle of the fifteenth
century. He is celebrated as a lover of good books, though only a single
example of his choice survived into the present generation. It was a
magnificent missal on vellum, filled with the choicest miniatures, and
known as the best specimen of its class in the possession of Prince
Soltikoff. It is only a few years ago that it entered the collection of
M. Firmin-Didot, who paid 36,000 francs for it at the Prince's sale: in
the year 1861 he gave it up to the City of Paris; but like so many of the
great books of France it perished in the fires of the Commune.
Jacques de Pars, the physician to Charles VII., bequeathed his scientific
MSS. to the College of Medicine at Paris: and the value of his gift was
manifested when the powerful Louis XI. was forbidden to take out a
medical treatise for transcription unless he would pledge his silver
plate and find collateral security for its safe return. Étienne Chevalier
was one of the few servants of King Charles who were tolerated by King
Louis. He became Chief Treasurer to Louis XI., and built a great mansion
in the Rue de la Verrerie in Paris. The walls and ceilings were decorated
with allegorical designs in honour of his friend Agnès Sorel, whose
courage had led to the expulsion of the English invaders. The library was
filled with choice MSS., illuminated for the most part by Jehan Foucquet,
the famous miniaturist from Tours. Nicholas Chevalier, his descendant in
the sixteenth century, was also illustrious as a bibliophile, and amidst
his own printed folios and pedigrees rolled in blue velvet could still
show the marvellous _Livre d'Heures_, of which all that now remains is a
set of paintings hacked out from the text. M. Le Roux de Lincy has
compiled a long and interesting list of the French bibliophiles who
preceded the age of Grolier. We can only mention a few out of the number.
Of the poets we have Charles, Duke of Orléans, the owner of eighty
magnificent volumes preserved in the Castle of Blois, and Pierre Ronsard;
and we may add the Abbé Philippe Desportes, renowned not less for a
rivalry with Ronsard than for his sumptuous mode of living and the
fortune expended on his library. To the statesmen may be added Florimond
Robertet, the first of a long line of bibliophiles. Among the learned
ladies of the sixteenth century we may choose Louise Labé, surnamed 'La
Belle Cordière,' who made a collection of a new kind, composed entirely
of works in French, Spanish, and Italian, and Charlotte Guillard, a
printer as well as a book-collector, who published at her own expense a
volume of the Commentaries of St. Jerome.
The most important of the private collectors in this period was Arthur
Gouffier, Seigneur de Boissy, another of the faithful followers of
Charles VII. who were so fortunate as to gain the confidence of his
jealous successor.
He was a lover of fine bindings in the style rendered famous by Grolier.
One of his books belonged to the late Baron Jérôme Pichon, the head of
the French _Société des Bibliophiles_, and it is admitted that nothing
even in Grolier's library could excel it in delicacy of execution. His
son, Claude Gouffier, created Duc de Rouannais, was a collector of an
essentially modern type. He bought autographs and historical portraits,
as well as rare MSS. and good specimens of printing, and was careful to
have his books well clothed in the fashionable painted binding. Claude
Gouffier was tutor to the young Duc d'Angoulême, who came to the throne
as Francis I.; and to him may be due his royal pupil's affection for the
books bedecked with the salamander in flames and the silver
_fleurs-de-lys_.
Francis I. cared little for printed books in comparison with manuscript
rarities; he added very few to the collection at Fontainebleau beyond
what he received as presents from his mother, Queen Louise, and his
sister Marguerite d'Angoulême. The royal library owed many of its finest
manuscripts to the delicate taste of the princess who was compared to the
'blossom of poetry' and praised as the 'Marguerite des Marguerites.' Its
wealth was much increased by the confiscation of the property of the
Constable de Bourbon; and it should be remembered that among the
additions from this source were most of the magnificently illuminated
manuscripts that had belonged to Jean Duc de Berri.
The King was much attracted by the hope of making literary discoveries
in the East; he obtained much information on the subject from John
Lascaris, and despatched Pierre Gilles to make purchases in the Levantine
monasteries. A similar commission was entrusted to Guillaume Postel, one
of the greatest linguists that ever lived, but so crazy that he believed
himself to be Adam born to live again, and so unfortunate that he could
seldom keep out of a prison.
The reign of Henri Deux is of great importance in the annals of
bibliography. An ordinance was made in 1558, through the influence, as it
is supposed, of Diane de Poitiers, by which every publisher was compelled
to present copies of his books, printed on vellum and suitably bound, to
the libraries at Blois and Fontainebleau, and such others as the King
should appoint. About eight hundred volumes in the national collection
represent the immediate results of this copy-tax; they are all marked
with the ambiguous cypher, which might either represent the initials of
the King and Queen or might indicate the names of Henri and Diane. Queen
Catherine de Médici was an enthusiastic collector. When she arrived in
France as a girl she brought with her from Urbino a number of MSS. that
had belonged to the Eastern Emperors, and had been purchased by Cosmo de'
Médici. She afterwards seized the whole library of Marshal Strozzi on the
ground that they must be regarded as 'Médici books,' having been
inherited at one time by a nephew of Leo X. On her death in 1589 she was
found to have been possessed of about eight hundred Greek manuscripts,
all of the highest rarity and value. There was some danger that they
would be seized by her creditors; but the King was advised that such an
assemblage could not be got together again in any country or at any cost.
The library was made an heir-loom of the Crown: and at De Thou's
suggestion the books were stripped of their rich coverings and disguised
in an official costume.
Diane de Poitiers, a true _chasseresse des bouquins_, was herself the
daughter of a bibliophile. The Comte de St. Vallier loved books in
Italian bindings, and there is a _Roman de Perceforest_ in the collection
of the Duc d'Aumale, that bears the Saint Vallier arms and marks of
ownership, though it was confidently believed to have been bound for
Grolier when it belonged to King Louis-Philippe. Henri Deux and the
Duchesse Diane kept a treasure of books between them in the magnificent
castle of Anet: and after they were dead the books remained unknown and
unnoticed in their hall until the death of the Princesse de Condé in the
year 1723. The sale which then took place was a revelation of beauty. The
books were in good condition, and were all clad in sumptuous bindings.
There was a remarkable diversity in their contents, the Fathers and the
poets standing side by side with treatises upon medicine and the
management of a household, as if they had been acquired in great part by
virtue of the tax upon the publishers. Most of them, we are told, were
bought by the 'intrepid book-hunter' M. Guyon de Sardières, whose whole
library in its turn was engulphed in the miscellaneous collections of the
Duc de la Vallière. An article in the _Bibliophile Français_ contains a
curious argument in favour of Diane de Poitiers, as being one of a band
of devoted Frenchwomen who saved their country from foreign ideas. We are
reminded of the patriotism of Agnès Sorel, and of the excellent influence
of Gabrielle d'Estrées. The Duchesse d'Estampes, we are told, preserved
Francis I. from the influence of the Italian renaissance, and prevented
the subjugation of France 'by a Benvenuto or Da Vinci'; and in the same
way, when Catherine de Médici was preparing to introduce other strange
fashions, Diane came forward in her 'magical beauty' and saved the
originality of her nation.
The three sons of Catherine were all fond of books in their way. Francis
_ii._ died before he had time to make any collection; if he had lived,
Mary of Scotland, who shared his throne for a few weeks, might have led
him into the higher paths of literature. Some of their favourite volumes
have been preserved; the young King's books bear the dolphin or the arms
of France; the Queen bound everything in black morocco emblasoned with
the lion of Scotland. Charles IX. had a turn for literature, as beseemed
the pupil of Bishop Amyot; he studied archæology in some detail, and
purchased Grolier's cabinet of coins. He brought the library of
Fontainebleau to Paris, where his father had made the beginning of a new
collection out of the confiscated property of the Président Ranconnet,
and gave the management of the whole to the venerable Amyot. His brother,
the effeminate Henri Trois, cared much for bindings and little for books:
it is said that he was somewhat of a book-binder himself, as his brother
Charles had worked at the armourer's smithy, and as some of his
successors were to take up the technicalities of the barber, the cook,
and the locksmith. Being an extravagant idler himself, he passed laws
against extravagance in his subjects; but though furs and heavy chains
might be forbidden, he allowed gilt edges and arabesques on books, and
only drew the line at massive gold stamps. His own taste combined the
gloomy and the grotesque, his clothes and his bindings alike being
covered with skulls and cross-bones, and spangles to represent tears,
with other conventional emblems of sorrow.
Louise of Lorraine, after the King's death, retired to the castle of
Chenonceau: and the widowed queen employed her time, in that 'palace of
fairy-land,' at forming a small cabinet of books. The catalogue describes
about eighty volumes, mostly bound by Nicolas Eve; and the gay morocco
covers in red, blue, and green, were decorated with brilliant arabesques,
or sprinkled with golden lilies. Hardly any perfect specimens remain,
even in the National Library. They were all bequeathed by the Queen to
her niece the Duchesse de Vendôme; but in the hands of a later possessor
they were put up for sale and dispersed, and have now for the most part
disappeared.
Henri Quatre is said to have fled to his books for consolation when
abandoned by Gabrielle d'Estrées. Though no bibliophile himself, he was
anxious that everything should be done that could promote the interests
of literature. He intended to establish a magnificent library in the
Collège de Cambray, but died before the plans were completed. The books
at Blois, however, were brought to Paris and thrown open to deserving
students; the library already transported from Fontainebleau and the MSS.
of Catherine de Médici were removed to the Collège de Clermont, and
placed under the guardianship of De Thou.
Marguerite de Valois agreed with the King, if in nothing else, at least
in a desire for the extension of knowledge. She was a most learned lady
as well as a collector of exquisite books. No branch of science, sacred
or profane, came amiss to the 'Reine Margot.' She may be regarded as the
Queen of the 'Femmes Bibliophiles' who occupied so important a position
in the history of the Court of France. In the domain of good taste she
excels all competitors; as regards intellect we can hardly estimate the
distance between Marguerite and the elegant collectors whom we
distinguish according to the names of their book-binders. Anne of Austria
is remembered for the lace-like patterns of Le Gascon; and Queen Marie
Leczinska is famous for the splendour of her volumes bound by Padeloup.
Even the libraries of the daughters of Louis Quinze, three diligent and
well-instructed princesses, are only known apart by the colours of the
moroccos employed by Derôme. The dull contents of the Pompadour's shelves
would hardly be noticeable without her 'three castles,' or the 'ducal
mantle,' by Biziaux; and no one but Louis Quinze himself would have
praised the intelligent choice of Du Barry, or cast a look upon her
collection of odd volumes and 'remainders,' if they had not been
decorated like the rest of her furniture. In all the lists of these
'ladies of old-time' by M. Guigard, by M. Quentin-Bauchart, or by M.
Uzanne, it is difficult to find one who preferred the inside to the
outside of the book. M. Uzanne, indeed, has contended that no female
bibliophile ever felt the passion that inspired a Grolier or a De Thou:
that Marie Antoinette herself may have caged thousands of books at the
Trianon like birds in an aviary, without any real regard to their nature
or the right way of using them; that these devotees of the book-chase
were like an invalid master of hounds, keeping the pack in a gilded
kennel without any exercise or any chance of practical work. We think
that something perhaps might be said on the other side. The Duchesse de
Berry in our own time possessed a serious collection, made under her own
direction, in which might be found the _Livre d'Heures_ of Henri Deux,
the prayer-book of Joanna of Naples, the best books of Marguerite de
Valois and Marie Leczinska. The Princess Pauline Buonaparte was the
owner of a well-selected library. But our best example is Madame
Elisabeth, the ill-fated daughter of France, who was dragged from her
books at Montreuil in the tumults of 1789. Only a short time before she
had been absorbed in her simple collection. In the spring of 1786 she
gave up her mornings to its arrangement. 'My library,' she wrote, 'is
nearly finished: the desks are being put up, and you cannot imagine the
fine effect of the books.' On September the 15th she writes to her friend
again: 'Montreuil and its mistress get on as well as two sweethearts. I
am writing in the small room at the end; the books are settled in their
shelves, and my library is really a little gem.' On the 5th of October
she was standing on the terrace by the library-window, when she saw a
crowd coming along the Sèvres road, and heard the noise of pipes and
drums; and on the same day she was forced to leave Montreuil, and never
saw her books again.