often furious.  One of the red-hot demagogues got up in the assembly, and advised “mangling, maiming, or burning the books:  they were only fit for cartridges, wadding, or fuel:  they were replete with marks of feudalism and royalty—­for they had arms or embellishments on them, which denoted them to belong to Aristocrats.”  This speech made some impression:  his comrades were for carrying the motion immediately into execution, by sword and faggot....  But M. Langles rose ... calm, collected, and actuated by feelings a little more accordant with the true spirit of patrotism.  “Citizens,” said the Orientalist, “we must not do mischief, in the desire of doing good.  Let the books remain where they are.  If you set fire to them, can you say how far the flames shall extend?  Our own great national library, so renowned and celebrated throughout Europe! may become the prey of the devouring element, and then how will you be reproached by posterity!  Again—­if you convert them to other purposes of destruction, how can you hope to prevent the same example from being followed in other places?  The madness of the multitude will make no distinction; and as many pikes and swords may be carried within the great library, as within the various depositories of the monastic books.  Pause awhile.  Respect those collections of books, and you will both respect yourselves and preserve the great national library.  In due time, we shall make a proper selection from them, and enrich the book stores of the capital!” So spake M. Langles; and the Assembly assented to his contre-projet—­luckily for Paris and themselves.[161]

But nearly all these worthy characters, of whom I have just made mention, had an opportunity of exhibiting their social qualities, of whatever description, at a sort of FESTIVAL which I gave the other day (last Wednesday) in honour of the Roxburghe Club—­which met on that same day, I presume, at the Clarendon Hotel.  This Parisian Roxburghe Banquet went off upon the whole with flying colours.  You shall know as much about it as is likely to interest you.  Having secured my guests, (Messrs. DENON, GAIL, LANGLES, VAN PRAET and MILLIN) and fixed both the place and hour of repast, I endeavoured to dress out a little bill of fare of a bibliomaniacal description—­to rival, in its way, that of Mons. Grignon, in the Rue Neuve des Petits Champs, (within two minutes walk of the Royal Library,) where we were to assemble, at five o’clock.  I knew that Millin would put my toasts or sentiments into good French, and so I took courage against the hour of meeting.  I had secured a ground-floor apartment, looking upon a lawn, with which it communicated by open doors.  The day was unusually hot and oppressive.  After finishing my labours at the Royal Library, I returned to my hotel, arranged my little matters connected with the by-play of the festival—­dressed—­and resorted to Grignon’s.  Every thing looked well and auspiciously.  Our room was in the shade;