I subsequently heard from the landlord, that there had been a most distressing scene up stairs; that the young lady had been taken very ill, and that, as soon as she had recovered a little, Mr. Foxcote had sallied out to inquire for Percy, and seemed much disappointed on learning" que Milor Buggins et suite etaient partis en poste pour l'Italie." M. Rufenacht, who gave me this information, added, that the old gentleman seemed considerably agitated, and leant heavily on a thick stick, which he was not generally in the habit of carrying. It is curious to observe how suddenly, totally, and unaccountably, people's ideas alter. Mr. Foxcote had all along, in his own heart, decided that there was no place like home; but Mrs. Foxcote had been invariably profuse in her admiration of the manners, mode of life, and sans gêne of continental society. Now, singular as it may seem, after the event which I have just described, not a word more was uttered by that good lady on this her favourite topic; and when Mr. Foxcote proposed that they should return to Foxcote Manor, no opposition was made to his wishes, neither was the accomplished P. de la P. Buggins ever more alluded to by any of the party. Shortly after they reached England, Miss Stubbs was led to the altar by a one-eyed groom, whose hand she had scornfully rejected before setting out on this disastrous tour. I regret that I have also to record, that on the Morning of Miss Stubbs' nuptials, Mr. Foxcote's spaniel produced, to the excessive disgust of the gamekeeper, a litter of fine puppies, less remarkable for the purity of their breed, than for a strong resemblance to the blasphemous poodle whose acquaintance she made at Interlaken. * * And poor Emily-after some years of wearisome single blessedness, she has lately taken to confer a good deal on religious subjects with the curate of the parish; he is a lanky, pale, learned youth, well connected, and, unlike curates in general, is not yet, I believe, engaged to be married. It is impossible yet to tell what results may arise from this new friendship-she might certainly stand out with reason for a better match; but perhaps the sad denouement of her affair with the seductive Percy, may have taught her to "cut her (petti) coat according to her cloth." VASLYN. FRAGMENT. ONE glance alone! and yet my heart One sigh! yet wafted on that breath, JULIAN. THE BIBLIOPHILIST. BARCELONA is a handsome and rich city of Catalonia. The capital of that province, it contains many splendid buildings; among which the superb hotel of the Viceroys, (now named Captains general,) the Exchange, and the Custom-house near the port, are remarkable for the beauty of their structure. It is a place of considerable trade, and the industrious zeal of its inhabitants has long been cited as a contrast to the generally indolent habits of their countrymen. Bred to the occupations of active life, this indefatigable population is not less distinguished by its attention to the laws, than by its moral good conduct. Crime is of rare occurrence. A noble emulation to provide for their families, constant employment, and a contented spirit, render them little accessible to temptation, and subdue those baneful passions which originate in avarice, poverty, and idleness. There is, however, no rule without exceptions. With all these claims to general esteem and admiration for the morality of its inhabitants, the town of Barcelona became lately the stage on which a continuation of the most atrocious crimes were perpetrated, without any clue being afforded to detect the source from whence they sprung. Individuals suddenly disappeared, and no tidings were heard of them again by their afflicted relations; bodies were found murdered, and secreted in various places, while the finger of suspicion was unable to point at any individual who could have been influenced, by motives of interest or resentment, to commit such sanguinary deeds. These awful transgressions of the law succeeded each other, too, with such alarming frequency, that the whole population of Barcelona was struck with a panic; and what was the most surprising feature in the case,-what baffled all conjectures, and misled every one as to the motives of these crimes, was, that in no one instance had the unhappy victims been despoiled of their personal property. The people saw with dismay a mysterious conspiracy organised in the midst of them, to which every man felt that his own life might at any time fall a sacrifice, while the sense of danger was daily increased by the continued impunity of the delinquents. The legal authorities were indignant at this open violation of all laws, both human and divine; the corregidor received the strictest orders to redouble his vigilance, and, though hitherto foiled in all his attempts to discover the criminals, he increased the patrols in every direction, and used the most vigorous efforts in his department to detect a source of iniquity, the continuance of which reflected so much disgrace on the efficiency of the police. We must now go back in our recital to a short period previous to this interesting crisis. It may be as well to give a more succinct account of the events which created so much sensation in the town of Barcelona. The Arcades, which line the north-west side of the great square, and which go by the name of the pillars de los Encantes, are entirely occupied by the shops of brokers and hucksters, who deal in secondhand articles of every description. There are to be found the principal dealers in old books and prints, who attend all the public sales, and live by the spoils of those libraries which the necessities of the owners bring to the hammer. Augustin Patxot had resided for many years in this quarter, carrying on the trade of a bookseller, which, though far from a lucrative profession, enabled him to gain an honest livelihood. He was a good scholar himself, and intimately acquainted with the value of all publications, both ancient and modern; his opinion was considered of great weight by the amateurs in literature; but their number is become very confined in the present day, when a sword or a carbine is considered of more value than the cleverest book or the most precious manuscript. The professors of the university were his constant customers; but, alas! they had little money to spare, and the book trade appeared to be in a falling state. As the old proverb says, "There is no ill without producing some good," the pillage of the convents, and the abolition of numerous orders of monks, driven from their pious avocations, much against their will, to mix with the world, brought to light a most valuable collection of ancient manuscripts, illuminated missals, and curious records, which had long lain hid in their dusty coverings on the shelves of the wealthy brethren. These treasures of literature were sold publicly in the most expeditious manner; and, as their value at the first was little appreciated by the multitude, men like Patxot, who were on the alert to make a good bargain, availed themselves of their knowledge and experience to fill their stalls at a low price with the spoils of the monkish libraries. This influx of valuable books into the market revived the taste and spirit of speculation among the bibliophilists; and, as it increased the number of purchasers, its natural effect was to bring more rival dealers into the general competition. Among those who came to establish themselves with this intention in the neighbourhood of Patxot, was a man who, though he wore the secular dress, and conformed to the usual customs of the world, was easily recognized as having formerly belonged to one of the late religious orders. His stern features, his dictatorial air, and his ungainly manner, proclaimed a life passed in seclusion, and little accustomed to the easy habits of modern society. He was in fact the Father Don Vincente, from the convent of Poblet. Bitterly had the poor monk deplored the disasters which caused the ruin and fall of his monastery. It was not that he regretted the ease and indolence of his past life, the wealth and influence of his order, or the thirty livres of Catalonia which the good peasants of Poblet paid as a yearly tax to the holy fathers for permission to dispose of their daughters in marriage to whom they pleased. None of these objects presented such galling recollections to the mind of Don Vincente as the loss of that magnificent library, which one of the last kings of Arragon, in times gone by, had presented to his convent. Disinterested indeed was this feeling, as he had seldom or never studied himself these sacred reliques; but his eye had been accustomed from day to day in his retreat to gaze with inexpressible delight on these numerous manuscripts, ranged in symmetrical order on their polished ebony shelves, and he knew, at least by hearsay, that they contained treasures of science and literature which were of inestimable value. "Alas!" would he exclaim to himself, " ever since the last fatal war, when the archives of Saragossa and the sanctuary of San Juan de la Pena were burnt by the enemy, it was in our convent alone that authentic documents for the compilation of our early history could really have been found. Who knows but among those venerable manuscripts might have been discovered the writings of that Arnaldo de Brescia who founded the heresies of the Albigenses? There, without a doubt, were cautiously preserved all the details of that interesting war, in which our king, Don Pedro, performed such wonderful exploits, till he was at last slain by Montfort, his brother-in-law, under the walls of the Castle of Murat. There the future historian might have found the long-lost memoirs of Don Pelagio, or of the interminable struggle between Don Sanchez and his Moorish enemies. Holy Virgin!" repeated the desponding friar, "what a heart-rending idea to think that such invaluable papers should eventually have served to make cartridges! that not a prince should have been found in all Christendom sufficiently enlightened to rescue from destruction those precious relics of former ages. All, all have perished in one common fate!" OC It is not quite clear whether these irreparable losses had slightly deranged the intellect of Don Vincente, or whether the painful shock which he had undergone in witnessing the pillage and sacking of his convent had exasperated a passion, or rather a mania, which had always previously existed; but such is the fact, that he now absolutely raved of nothing but books. He never read as a matter of study, but his life was spent in turning over leaves, examining title-pages, collating dates, and scrutinizing editions, till at last he arrived at a wonderful degree of knowledge and experience in the art of estimating the works of ancient writers. He had an inconceivable talent for appreciating the value of an old manuscript at first sight; and, being seldom mistaken in his judgment, it was always received with great deference by his brethren in the trade. In order to indulge this extraordinary mania, he adopted the profession of a bookseller, and his shop was certainly stored with an unrivalled collection of the best authors. Ill-natured people asserted, that while the plunder of his monastery was going on, Don Vincente himself was not idle; but that, seeing every man cupied in seizing that which came first to his hand, he had readily followed the example, and had not been unfortunate in the selections which he made. This, however, was mere suspicion, and had never been circumstantially proved; one fact alone was beyond denial, that his trade flourished, and that he was very successful in attracting customers to his shop. He even pretended to study their tastes and political opinions, offering to their notice as they passed his door those publications which he conceived most likely to suit the one or flatter the other. For example, if he observed among the strollers in the Arcade one of the malcontents of the present day, one of those who are ill-affected towards the government of our innocent and gracious queen, he would address him with, dios! mi señor,"-walk in, I pray you,-"I have something here which you will read with great interest: buy this chronicle of the reign of Johanna the First, of Naples, with this motto from a poet of that period, Interitus regni est a muliere regi. Or, if you prefer it, here is an imitation of Casti, in the shape of a pamphlet, headed by a quotation from that author, "Por "Che Martin si piglio la genetrice E che da i contrattanti furon fatti If, on the other hand, it was a partisan of the present government, then he changed his note: to such he would say, Deign to look at this copy of the brilliant speech made by the divine Arguellas to the Cortes of Cadiz; or here are the Relaciones of Antonio Perez, a new edition, with a passage from Blancas. Apud nos prius leges conditæ quam reges creati. It is to be sold for a mere nothing-only twenty reals de Arditez*; you never bought such a bargain." In this manner, suiting his offers to the different characters of those whom he addressed, he seldom met with a refusal; but he carefully abstained from producing the really valuable publications of his library, which were very numerous and well selected. He must have been very much pressed for money before he could have recourse to such an alternative, and never could be induced to sell one of them without the greatest reluctance. Anxious as he was to effect sales of the books which had little intrinsic value, in the same degree was he difficult and scrupulous in parting with anything like a scarce or precious edition. In such cases, if a customer was pressing in his demand, he would make a thousand difficulties and evasions; he would ask a most exorbitant price, and, if taken at his word, would show a wish to retract, and only at last receive the money with evident pain and vexation. He seemed to do himself a secret violence when he delivered the book out of his hands; he changed colour, became alternately pale and flushed, the muscles of his face were contracted with pain, and he showed every sign of inward mortification. Notwithstanding these occasional sources of annoyance, he did more business than all the rest of the trade put together: a circumstance which could not fail to excite their envy; and his neighbour Patxot proposed to them in consequence that they should form a league to ruin him. After much caballing together, they came to a resolution to subscribe a general fund, and with it to outbid Vincente at all the public sales of books which were held in the town. By these means they prevented him from making any valuable acquisitions to supply the place of those works which were sold in the common course of his business. He was thus daily decreasing his stock, without being able to renew it. This conspiracy was too well organized and followed up by the principals not to affect the interests of Vincente in a very serious manner: it did more; it violently exasperated his temper, inasmuch as it thwarted his darling passion, as well as ruined his trade. He daily saw the works which he most eagerly coveted snatched from his grasp by this greedy combination; he felt himself in the same position as the luckless Sancho Panza, in his government of Barataria, when the redoubtable wand of Doctor Don Pedro Recio de Aguera del Lugar de Tirte afuerat made all the dishes, one after the other, vanish from his splendid table. His rage and disappointment became intolerable. It is the custom in Barcelona at all sales *About five shillings English. + Literally translated, it means, Don Pedro of bad omen, of the village of Get-out. |