nelling was the portrait of
some famous author, and an appropriate distich. . . . To the right and
left of the carriage entrance into the great courtyard are two handsome
saloons, each about forty-five feet by twenty-two, and twenty-three in
height. That on the left contained the famous library of MS. collected
by Count Federigo; the corresponding one received the printed books
which, gradually purchased by successive dukes, became, under the last
sovereign a copious collection. Baldi, in his description of the palace,
printed in Bianchini's works, dwells on the judicious adaptation of the
former, its windows set high against the northern sky, admitting a
subdued and steady light which invited to study; its air cool in summer,
temperate in winter; its walls conveniently sheltered. . . . .'

[52] _Nineteenth Century_, March, 1890.

_A Librarian._

Until we have more properly trained librarians, it is useless to
recommend owners of private libraries to find a librarian, because at
present there are very few such men in existence who are properly
qualified. A love of books is not enough in a librarian. An orderly mind
and great receptive power are most essential. Practical knowledge of
bookbinding and a sense of colour are equally essential. He must have no
fads of his own to be ever thrusting forward. If he is mad on Geology or
Astronomy, he won't do. What, above all, he must know are the sources of
information.

A study in the 'Lives' of some of the great librarians would best show
what is here meant. Mr. Elton[54] names Antonio Maggliabecchi, the
jeweller's shop-boy, who became renowned throughout the world for his
abnormal knowledge of books. He never at any time left Florence; but he
read every catalogue that was issued, and was in correspondence with all
the collectors and librarians of Europe. He was blessed with a
prodigious memory, and knew all the contents of a book by 'hunting it
with his finger,' or once turning over the pages. He was believed,
moreover, to know the habitat of all the rare books in the world; and
according to the well-known anecdote he replied to the Grand Duke, who
asked for a particular volume: 'The only copy of this work is at
Constantinople, in the Sultan's library, the seventh volume in the
second bookcase, on the right as you go in.' A similar story was told by
Wendell Phillips, the American statesman, about a countryman of his own,
George Sumner. An Englishman came to Rome an