des notes. Encore un mot; M.
Crapelet m'a attaque et je me suis defendu. Il peut recommencer, si
cela lui fait plaisir; mais desormais je ne lui repondrai que par le
silence et le mepris."

[C] "M. Crapelet, en sa qualite de critique, a mis ici du
raffinement; car je soupconne qu'il y a eu au moins vingt cinq
exemplaires tires sur papier velin. C'est ainsi qu'il sait dorer
sa pillule, pour la rendre plus presentable aux dignes amis de
l'auteur, les bibliophiles de Paris. Mais ces Messieurs ont trop
bon gout pour l'accepter.

_LETTER VIII._

SOME ACCOUNT OF THE LATE ABBE RIVE. BOOKSELLERS. PRINTERS. BOOK-BINDERS.

I make no doubt that the conclusion of my last letter has led you to expect
a renewal of the BOOK THEME: but rather, I should hope, as connected with
those Bibliographers, Booksellers, and Printers, who have for so many years
shed a sort of lustre upon _Parisian Literature_. It will therefore be no
unappropriate continuation of this subject, if I commence by furnishing you
with some particulars respecting a Bibliographer who was considered, in his
life time, as the terror of his acquaintance, and the pride of his patron:
and who seems to have never walked abroad, or sat at home, without a
scourge in one hand, and a looking-glass in the other. Droll combination!--
you will exclaim. But it is of the ABBE RIVE of whom I now speak; the very
_Ajax flagellifer_ of the bibliographical tribe, and at the same time the
vainest and most self-sufficient. He seems, amidst all the controversy in
which he delighted to be involved, to have always had _one_ never-failing
source of consolation left:--that of seeing himself favourably reflected--
from the recollection of his past performances--in the mirror of his own
conceit! I have before[121] descanted somewhat upon probably the most
splendid of his projected performances, and now hasten to a more particular
account of the man himself.

It was early one morning--before I had even commenced my breakfast--that a
stranger was announced to me. And who, think you, should that stranger turn
out to be? Nothing less than the _Nephew_ of the late Abbe Rive. His name
was MORENAS. His countenance was somewhat like that which Sir Thomas More
describes the hero of his Utopia to have had. It was hard, swarthy, and
severe. He seemed in every respect to be "a travelled man." But his manners
and voice were mild and concil