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A few examples may be given of the prices brought by 'Le Pastissier'in later days. Sensier's copy was but 128 millimetres in height,and had the old ordinary vellum binding,--in fact, it closelyresembled a copy which Messrs. Ellis and White had for sale in BondStreet in 1883. The English booksellers asked, I think, about 1,500francs for their copy. Sensier's was sold for 128 francs in April,1828; for 201 francs in 1837. Then the book was gloriously bound byTrautz-Bauzonnet, and was sold with Potier's books in 1870, when itfetched 2,910 francs. At the Benzon sale (1875) it fetched 3,255francs, and, falling dreadfully in price, was sold again in 1877 for2,200 francs. M. Dutuit, at Rouen, has a taller copy, bound byBauzonnet. Last time it was sold (1851) it brought 251 francs. TheDuc de Chartres has now the copy of Pieters, the historian of theElzevirs, valued at 3,000 francs.

About thirty years ago no fewer than three copies were sold atBrighton, of all places. M. Quentin Bauchart had a copy only 127millimetres in height, which he swopped to M. Paillet. M.Chartener, of Metz, had a copy now bound by Bauzonnet which was soldfor four francs in 1780. We call this the age of cheap books, butbefore the Revolution books were cheaper. It is fair to say,however, that this example of the 'Pastissier' was then bound upwith another book, Vlacq's edition of 'Le Cuisinier Francois,' andso went cheaper than it would otherwise have done. M. de Fontainede Resbecq declares that a friend of his bought six original piecesof Moliere's bound up with an old French translation of Garth's'Dispensary.' The one faint hope left to the poor book collector isthat he may find a valuable tract lurking in the leaves of somebound collection of trash. I have an original copy of Moliere's'Les Fascheux' bound up with a treatise on precious stones, but thebookseller from whom I bought it knew it was there! That made allthe difference.

But, to return to our 'Pastissier,' here is M. de Fontaine deResbecq's account of how he wooed and won his own copy of thisillustrious Elzevir. "I began my walk to-day," says this haunter ofancient stalls, "by the Pont Marie and the Quai de la Greve, thepillars of Hercules of the book-hunting world. After having viewedand reviewed these remote books, I was going away, when my attentionwas caught by a small naked volume, without a stitch of binding. Iseized it, and what was my delight when I recognised one of therarest of that famed Elzevir collection whose height is measured asminutely as the carats of the diamond. There was no indication ofprice on the box where this jewel was lying; the book, thoughunbound, was perfectly clean within. 'How much?' said I to thebookseller. 'You can have it for six sous,' he answered; 'is it toomuch?' 'No,' said I, and, trembling a little, I handed him thethirty centimes he asked for the 'Pastissier Francois.' You maybelieve, my friend, that after such a piece of luck at the start,one goes home fondly embracing the beloved object of one's search.That is exactly what I did."

Can this tale be true? Is such luck given by the jealous fatesmortalibus aegris? M. de Resbecq's find was made apparently in1856, when trout were plenty in the streams, and rare books not sovery rare. To my own knowledge an English collector has bought anoriginal play of Moliere's, in the original vellum, foreighteenpence. But no one has such luck any longer. Not, at least,in London. A more expensive 'Pastissier' than that which broughtsix sous was priced in Bachelin-Deflorenne's catalogue at 240pounds. A curious thing occurred when two uncut 'Pastissiers'turned up simultaneously in Paris. One of them Morgand and Fatoutsold for 400 pounds. Clever people argued that one of the twinuncut 'Pastissiers' must be an imitation, a facsimile by means ofphotogravure, or some other process. But it was triumphantlyestablished that both were genuine; they had minute points ofdifference in the ornaments.

M. Willems, the learned historian of the Elzevirs, is indignant atthe successes of a book which, as Brunet declares, is badly printed.There must be at least forty known 'Pastissiers' in the world. Yes;but there are at least 4,000 people who would greatly rejoice topossess a 'Pastissier,' and some of these desirous ones are verywealthy. While this state of the market endures, the 'Pastissier'will fetch higher prices than the other varieties. Anotherextremely rare Elzevir is 'L'Illustre Theatre de Mons. Corneille'(Leyden, 1644). This contains 'Le Cid,' 'Les Horaces,' 'Le Cinna,''La Mort de Pompee,' 'Le Polyeucte.' The name, 'L'IllustreTheatre,' appearing at that date has an interest of its own. In1643-44, Moliere and Madeleine Bejart had just started the companywhich they called 'L'Illustre Theatre.' Only six or seven copies ofthe book are actually known, though three or four are believed toexist in England, probably all covered with dust in the library ofsome lord. "He has a very good library," I once heard some one sayto a noble earl, whose own library was famous. "And what can afellow do with a very good library?" answered the descendant of theCrusaders, who probably (being a youth light-hearted and content)was ignorant of his own great possessions. An expensive copy of'L'Illustre Theatre,' bound by Trautz-Bauzonnet, was sold for 300pounds.

Among Elzevirs desirable, yet not hopelessly rare, is the 'Virgil'of 1636. Heinsius was the editor of this beautiful volume, prettilyprinted, but incorrect. Probably it is hard to correct withabsolute accuracy works in the clear but minute type which theElzevirs affected. They have won fame by the elegance of theirbooks, but their intention was to sell good books cheap, like MichelLevy. The small type was required to get plenty of "copy" intolittle bulk. Nicholas Heinsius, the son of the editor of the'Virgil,' when he came to correct his father's edition, found thatit contained so many coquilles, or misprints, as to be nearly themost incorrect copy in the world. Heyne says, "Let the 'Virgil' beone of the rare Elzevirs, if you please, but within it has scarcelya trace of any good quality." Yet the first edition of thisbeautiful little book, with its two passages of red letters, is sodesirable that, till he could possess it, Charles Nodier would notprofane his shelves by any 'Virgil' at all.

Equally fine is the 'Caesar' of 1635, which, with the 'Virgil' of1636 and the 'Imitation' without date, M. Willems thinks the mostsuccessful works of the Elzevirs, "one of the most enviable jewelsin the casket of the bibliophile." It may be recognised by the page238, which is erroneously printed 248. A good average height isfrom 125 to 128 millimetres. The highest known is 130 millimetres.This book, like the 'Imitation,' has one of the pretty and ingeniousfrontispieces which the Elzevirs prefixed to their books. Sofarewell, and good speed in your sport, ye hunters of Elzevirs, andmay you find perhaps the rarest Elzevir of all, 'L'Aimable Mere deJesus.'

BALLADE OF THE REAL AND IDEAL (DOUBLE REFRAIN)

O visions of salmon tremendous,Of trout of unusual weight,Of waters that wander as Ken does,Ye come through the Ivory Gate!But the skies that bring never a "spate,"But the flies that catch up in a thorn,But the creel that is barren of freight,Through the portals of horn!

O dreams of the Fates that attend usWith prints in the earliest state,O bargains in books that they send us,Ye come through the Ivory Gate!But the tome that has never a mate,But the quarto that's tattered and torn,And bereft of a title and date,Through the portals of horn!

O dreams of the tongues that commend us,Of crowns for the laureate pate,Of a public to buy and befriend us,Ye come through the Ivory Gate!But the critics that slash us and slate, {2}But the people that hold us in scorn,But the sorrow, the scathe, and the hate,Through the portals of horn!

ENVOY.

Fair dreams of things golden and great,Ye come through the Ivory Gate;But the facts that are bleak and forlorn,Through the portals of horn!

CURIOSITIES OF PARISH REGISTERS

There are three classes of persons who are deeply concerned withparish registers--namely, villains, antiquaries, and the sedulousreaders, "parish clerks and others," of the second or "agony" columnof the Times. Villains are probably the most numerous of thesethree classes. The villain of fiction dearly loves a parishregister: he cuts out pages, inserts others, intercalates remarksin a different coloured ink, and generally manipulates the registeras a Greek manages his hand at ecarte, or as a Hebrew dealer inMoabite bric-a-brac treats a synagogue roll. We well remember onevillain who had locked himself into the vestry (he was disguised asan archaeologist), and who was enjoying his wicked pleasure with theregister, when the vestry somehow caught fire, the rusty key wouldnot turn in the door, and the villain was roasted alive, in spite ofthe disinterested efforts to save him made by all the virtuouscharacters in the story. Let the fate of this bold, bad man be awarning to wicked earls, baronets, and all others who attempt todestroy the record of the marriage of a hero's parents. Fate willbe too strong for them in the long run, though they bribe the parishclerk, or carry off in white wax an impression of the keys of thevestry and of the iron chest in which a register should repose.

There is another and more prosaic danger in the way of villains, ifthe new bill, entitled "The Parish Registers Preservation Act," everbecomes law. The bill provides that every register earlier than1837 shall be committed to the care of the Master of the Rolls, andremoved to the Record Office. Now the common villain of fictionwould feel sadly out of place in the Register Office, where a morewatchful eye than that of a comic parish clerk would be kept on hisproceedings. Villains and local antiquaries will, therefore, useall their parliamentary influence to oppose and delay this bill,which is certainly hard on the parish archaeologist. The men whogrub in their local registers, and slowly compile parish or countyhistory, deserve to be encouraged rather than depressed. Mr.Chester Waters, therefore, has suggested that copies of registersshould be made, and the comparatively legible copy left in theparish, while the crabbed original is conveyed to the Record Officein London. Thus the local antiquary would really have his work mademore easy for him (though it may be doubted whether he would quiteenjoy that condescension), while the villain of romance would befoiled; for it is useless (as a novel of Mr. Christie Murray'sproves) to alter the register in the keeping of the parish when theoriginal document is safe in the Record Office. But previousexamples of enforced transcription (as in 1603) do not encourage usto suppose that the copies would be very scrupulously made. Thus,after the Reformation, the prayers for the dead in the old registerswere omitted by the copyist, who seemed to think (as the contractorfor "sandwich men" said to the poor fellows who carried the letterH), "I don't want you, and the public don't want you, and you're nouse to nobody." Again, when Laurence Fletcher was buried in St.Saviour's, Southwark, in 1608, the old register described him as "aplayer, the King's servant." But the clerk, keeping a note-book,simply called Laurence Fletcher "a man," and (in 1625) he alsostyled Mr. John Fletcher "a man." Now, the old register calls Mr.John Fletcher "a poet." To copy all the parish registers in Englandwould be a very serious task, and would probably be but slovenlyperformed. If they were reproduced, again, by any process ofphotography, the old difficult court hand would remain as hard asever. But this is a minor objection, for the local antiquary revelsin the old court hand.

From the little volume by Mr. Chester Waters, already referred to('Parish Registers in England;' printed for the author by F. J.Roberts, Little Britain, E.C.), we proceed to appropriate suchmatters of curiosity as may interest minds neither parochial nordoggedly antiquarian. Parish registers among the civilised peoplesof antiquity do not greatly concern us. It seems certain that manyPolynesian races have managed to record (in verse, or by some rudemarks) the genealogies of their chiefs through many hundreds ofyears. These oral registers are accepted as fairly truthful by somestudents, yet we must remember that Pindar supposed himself topossess knowledge of at least twenty-five generations before his owntime, and that only brought him up to the birth of Jason. Nobodybelieves in Jason and Medea, and possibly the genealogical recordsof Maoris and Fijians are as little trustworthy as those of PindaricGreece. However, to consider thus is to consider too curiously. Weonly know for certain that genealogy very soon becomes important,and, therefore, that records are early kept, in a growingcivilisation. "After Nehemiah's return from the captivity inBabylon, the priests at Jerusalem whose register was not found wereas polluted put from the priesthood." Rome had her parishregisters, which were kept in the temple of Saturn. But modernparish registers were "discovered" (like America) in 1497, whenCardinal Ximenes found it desirable to put on record the names ofthe godfathers and godmothers of baptised children. When theserelations of "gossip," or God's kin (as the word literally means),were not certainly known, married persons could easily obtaindivorces, by pretending previous spiritual relationship.

But it was only during the reign of Mary, (called the Bloody) thatthis rule of registering godfathers and godmothers prevailed inEngland. Henry VIII. introduced the custom of parish registers whenin a Protestant humour. By the way, how curiously has Madame deFlamareil (la femme de quarante ans, in Charles de Bernard's novel)anticipated the verdict of Mr. Froude on Henry VIII.! 'On accuseHenri VIII.,' dit Madame de Flamareil, "moi je le comprends, et jel'absous; c'etait un coeur genereux, lorsqu'il ne les aimait plus,il les tuait.'" The public of England mistrusted, in the matter ofparish registers, the generous heart of Henry VIII. It is the fixedconviction of the public that all novelties in administration meannew taxes. Thus the Croatian peasantry were once on the point ofrevolting because they imagined that they were to be taxed inproportion to the length of their moustaches. The English believed,and the insurgents of the famous Pilgrimage of Grace declared, thatbaptism was to be refused to all children who did not pay a"trybette" (tribute) to the king. But Henry, or rather hisminister, Cromwell, stuck to his plan, and (September 29, 1538)issued an injunction that a weekly register of weddings,christenings, and burials should be kept by the curate of everyparish. The cost of the book (twopence in the case of St.Margaret's, Westminster) was defrayed by the parishioners. Theoldest extant register books are those thus acquired in 1597 or1603. These volumes were of parchment, and entries were copied intothem out of the old books on paper. The copyists, as we have seen,were indolent, and omitted characteristic points in the more ancientrecords.