| A few typographical errors have been corrected by the etext transcriber: |
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| In the rare cases were=> In the rare cases where {pg 21} |
| ecrit dans les marges=> écrit dans les marges {pg 238} |
| Rops, Felicien, 299.=> Rops, Félicien, 299. {index} |
| Dans un siècle ou l’or seul fut un objet d’envie=> Dans un siècle où l’or seul fut un objet d’envie {pg 245} |
| A larger version of the images may be viewed by clicking directly
on the image. The spelling of French words and names has not been corrected or normalized. (note of etext transcriber) |
THE EX-LIBRIS SERIES. EDITED BY GLEESON WHITE.
FRENCH BOOK-PLATES.
THE FIRST EDITION OF THIS BOOK WAS PUBLISHED IN 1892, AND WAS EXHAUSTED ALMOST IMMEDIATELY. THE PRESENT ISSUE IS LIMITED TO 750 COPIES OF THE ORDINARY EDITION, AND 38 COPIES ON TALL JAPANESE VELLUM (OF WHICH 35 ONLY ARE FOR SALE).
F r e n c h B o o k-p l a t e s
by Walter Hamilton, Chairman
of Council of the Ex-Libris Society
and Vice-President of the Société
Française des Collectionneurs
d’Ex-Libris
London: George Bell & Sons, York Street,
Covent Garden, & New York. Mdcccxcvi
CHISWICK PRESS:—CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.
PREFACE.
Societies devoted to the collection and study of ex-libris have been founded by eminent genealogists and heraldists, not only in Great Britain, but also in Germany, France, and the United States, all of which are in a flourishing condition, numbering many active and enthusiastic members. Each of these societies publishes an illustrated Journal in which the book-plates of all ages and countries are being reproduced and described from almost every point of view. Whilst the ever-widening circle of literature on the topic shows that the taste has now also spread to Sweden, to Italy, to Belgium, to Switzerland, and to South America.
Such intense literary activity has led to the recent publication of many interesting records of French ex-libris, and in order to keep my readers au courant with the present state of knowledge, it has been found necessary to increase the number of chapters, to add materially to the others, and to include nearly a hundred facsimiles, in addition to those in the former edition.
The writings of Poulet-Malassis, Henri Bouchot, Octave Uzanne, le Père Ingold, Auguste Castan, A. Benoit, Henri Jadart, and H. Jardère, are all well-known to French collectors, but they have not been translated, and what is even more serious for the British collector, the original editions are now for the most part unobtainable.
I have therefore attempted to embody all the principal facts to be gleaned from these authorities with the information derived from my own collection, so as to produce a succinct history of French book-plates from 1574 (the year named on the first known dated French book-plate) to the present day. In the alphabetical list of artists and engravers will be found such a concentration of information useful to collectors as does not exist in any other work on the subject.
Heraldic details have been avoided as far as possible, yet some little space has necessarily been devoted to the explanation of the principal differences between the systems of the two nations, in order to enable a collector of French book-plates to understand certain peculiarities either not to be found on British armorial bearings, or conveying a different meaning to that ascribed to them in British heraldry.
Of the illustrations, many have been reproduced from rare old examples, whilst those of modern date are of interest, either on account of the fame of their artists, or their owners, or for the beauty or quaintness of their design.
As the majority are dated specimens, they have an educational value in representing the styles of heraldry and of ornamentation in vogue at the various periods during the last three centuries.
To Dr. Bouland, President of the French Society, I am greatly indebted for the loan of several interesting reproductions, and my thanks are also due to Messieurs Aglaüs Bouvenne, Henry André, L. Joly, Léon Quantin, le Père Ingold, and other artists and owners of book-plates for their kind permission to reproduce them here.
A final tribute of gratitude remains to be paid to one who shares all my labours, or my cares, and adds that charm to life that makes success worth striving for.
Every line in this little book has passed under her eyes, for revision or correction, and I would pray:
“Untouch’d with any shade of years,
May those kind eyes forever dwell!
They have not shed a many tears,
Dear eyes, since first I knew them well.”
WALTER HAMILTON.
“ELLARBEE,”
Clapham Common, Surrey.
October, 1896.
CONTENTS.
| PAGE | ||
| Chronological Summary Of The Principal Historical Events Herein Alluded To. | [1] | |
| [Chapter I.] | Introduction | [5] |
| [II.] | Identification And Classification | [21] |
| [III.] | A Few Notes On French Heraldry | [39] |
| [IV.] | Early Examples, 1574-1650 | [62] |
| [V.] | Ex-Libris, 1650-1700 | [77] |
| [VI.] | Ex-Libris, 1700-1789 | [84] |
| [VII.] | The First Republic | [109] |
| The First Empire | [123] | |
| [VIII.] | The Restoration And Louis-Philippe | [134] |
| The Second Empire | [140] | |
| [IX.] | The Frontier Provinces | [152] |
| [X.] | Ecclesiastical And Scholastic Ex-Libris | [169] |
| [XI.] | Book-Plates Of The Huguenots | [197] |
| [XII.] | Book-Plates Of Medical Men | [208] |
| [XIII.] | Canting Arms and Punning Plates | [218] |
| [XIV.] | Phrases of Possession | [232] |
| [XV.] | Book-plates of some Famous Men | [248] |
| [XVI.] | Modern Ex-Libris | [275] |
| [XVII.] | A List of Artists and Engravers | [301] |
| Bibliography | [345] | |
| [Index] | [353] | |
CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY OF THE PRINCIPAL HISTORICAL EVENTS HEREIN ALLUDED TO.
1574. Earliest known dated French book-plate, “Ex Bibliotheca Caroli Albosii.”
The first English book-plate, that of Sir Nicholas Bacon, was also dated 1574.
Henry III., then King of France, was assassinated August, 1589.
1585. The earliest known French armorial book-plate, that of François de la Rochefoucauld, engraved some time before 1585.
1589. Henry IV., King of France.
1598. April: The Edict of Nantes was issued by Henry IV., granting religious freedom to the Reformed Church; he was assassinated by Ravaillac May 14, 1610.
1610. Louis XIII., King, son of the above, died May 14, 1643.
1611. The first dated armorial French book-plate, that of Alexandre Bouchart, by Leonard Gaultier.
1613. The second dated armorial French book-plate, that of Melchior de la Vallée.
1638. The system of showing the heraldic colours, metals, and furs on engravings by conventional lines and dots was adopted about this date, and has been in use ever since.
1643. Louis XIV., King, son of the above, died September 1, 1715.
1685. October. Revocation by Louis XIV. of the Edict of Nantes, followed by the flight of thousands of French Protestants (or Huguenots) to Great Britain, Holland, and America.
1715. Louis XV., King, great-grandson of the above, died of small-pox, May 10, 1774.
1774. Louis XVI., King, grandson of the above.
1789. July. Surrender and destruction of the Château de la Bastille in Paris. This marks the actual commencement of the French Revolution.
1790. June. Abolition of all titles and armorial bearings.
1793. Louis XVI. beheaded January 21, and was, according to Legitimist reckoning, succeeded by his young son, Louis XVII., who, however, never reigned, and is supposed to have died in prison on June 8, 1795. The government was Republican in name until
1804. May. Napoleon Buonaparte proclaimed Emperor.
1808. New nobility of France created, titles and heraldry revived.
1814. Abdication of Napoleon in favour of his son, Napoleon II., who, however, never reigned.
1814. Restoration of the Monarchy under Louis XVIII., brother of Louis XVI.; he died September, 1824.
1824. Charles X., King, brother of the above, deposed in July, 1830; succeeded by his cousin—
1830. Louis-Philippe, as King of the French.
1848. February. Abdication and flight of Louis-Philippe. Proclamation of a Republic; Louis Napoleon elected President of the Republic, December, 1848.
1852. December. Proclamation of Napoleon III. as Emperor of the French (the Second Empire).
1870. Overthrow of the Empire; Republic proclaimed.
FRENCH EX-LIBRIS.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTION.
Beyond these, and a few pamphlets descriptive of local collections, such as the “Petite Revue d’Ex-Libris Alsaciens,” by Auguste Stoeber, 1881, and some articles by Octave Uzanne in “Le Livre Moderne,” comparatively little had been written on the topic until the appearance of the first edition of this work.
Indeed, in his last article in “Le Livre Moderne” (No. 24, December, 1891), M. Octave Uzanne deplored the want of interest shown by the French authors in this important branch of bibliographical art. From amongst the hundreds of thousands of book-plates known to exist in public and private collections, there would, he said, be no difficulty in selecting sufficient representative examples to form a magnificent “Dictionnaire Illustré des Ex-Libris.” The task must, however, remain unperformed until an author is found possessing not only sufficient taste, skill, and leisure to undertake it, but also ample means to carry it out, for such a work would undoubtedly be costly, and not many publishers would be willing to undertake the risk of producing it.
Hitherto no such collection has been published, either in Great Britain or in France; the nearest approach, in French, being the “Armorial du Bibliophile,” by Joannis Guigard, which deals only with the stamps on armorial bookbindings, and the splendid work on German Ex-Libris by Herr Frederic Warnecke, published in Berlin in 1890.
M. A. Poulet-Malassis opens his work with the expression: “Pas un des dictionnaires de la langue française n’a admis le terme ex-libris, composé de deux mots latins qui signifient des livres ... faisant partie des livres. II est pourtant consacré par l’usage et se dit de toute marque de propriété appliquée à l’extérieur ou à l’intérieur d’un volume.”
He could, however, no longer complain of the absence of the term ex-libris from the dictionaries, as, since he wrote, M. Pierre Larousse has inserted the following definition in vol. vii. of “Le Grand Dictionnaire Universel du XIX siècle” (Paris, 4to, 1866-1877):
“Ex-Libris, mots latins qui signifient littéralement des livres, d’entre des livres, faisant partie des livres, avec le nom du propriétaire. Ces mots s’inscrivent ordinairement en tête de chaque volume d’une bibliothèque avec la signature du propriétaire. On connait ce trait d’ignorance d’un financier, homme d’ordre avant tout, qui avait ordonné à son chapelier de coller soigneusement au fond de son chapeau ‘Ex-Libris Vaudore.’”
But what is still more singular than the omission of ex-libris from their dictionaries, is that no word, or phrase, in their own pure and beautiful language has been set apart by our neighbours to define these interesting marks of book possession.
On early French ex-libris the phrases of possession are most frequently found in Latin, as, indeed, is the case with the early book-plates of most nations. The earliest known example, and that is simply typographical, is of Ailleboust of Autun, dated 1574; it has the expression Ex bibliotheca; but it was not until about 1700 that this and similar phrases came into general use, and they were then gradually adopted in nearly the following order: Ex bibliotheca; Ex libris; Ex catalogo bibliothecæ; Ex musæo; Insigne librorum; Bibliothèque de—; Du cabinet de—; Je suis à M——; J’appartiens à——.
It will be noticed that Latin gradually gave way to the French language, and on more modern plates French expressions are usually employed. “Je suis à Jean Tommins” (1750) and “J’appartiens à Lucien Werner” have a distinct character of their own. “Ce livre est du Monastère de la visitation de Sainte Marie de Clermont” (1830), or “Ce livre fait partie de la Bibliothèque de M. le Comte de Fortia d’Urban, demeurant à Paris, Chaussée d’Antin, rue de la Rochefoucault,” are clear and positive statements of fact. Other collectors are less explicit, simply inserting: “Bibliothèque de Pastoret,” “Bibliothèque de Rosny,” “De la Bibliothèque de M. le Chevalier Dampoigne,” “Du Cabinet de Messire Barthelemy Gabriel Rolland.”
The term Ex-libris is now generally understood to refer to the labels, either printed or engraved, fixed by owners inside their books, to show by names, arms, or other devices, to whom the volumes belong. But French collectors employ the term Ex-libris in a much wider sense than we do; as, for instance, in reference to the manuscript entries of ownership in books, as we shall see later on, when dealing with the so-called ex-libris of François Rabelais and of Charlotte Corday, which are in reality but the autographs of these celebrities written in books which once belonged to them.
That this is the well-understood rule is borne out in the very opening sentences of the charming little brochure, “Petite Revue d’Ex-Libris Alsaciens,” by the late Mons. Auguste Stoeber (Mulhouse, 1881): “Lorsque, encore assis sur les bancs de l’école, nous tracions, d’une main peu exercée, sur la garde de nos livres de classe notre nom accompagné de ce verset enfantin:
Ce livre est à moi,
Comme Paris est au roi;
Qui veut savoir mon nom,
Regarde dans ce rond,
nous ne doutions guère que nous y inscrivions des ex-libris, et cela aussi peu que plus tard, lorsque, entrés au collège, latinistes en herbe, nous y griffonions un gibet auquel était pendu Pierrot, illustration suivie invariablement de ce quatrain macaronique:
Aspice Pierrot pendu,
Quod librum n’a pas rendu.
Pierrot pendu non fuisset
Si librum reddidisset.
A cette époque le nom d’Ex-libris n’était connu et employé que par les savants de profession et par les hommes du monde, amateurs de livres.”
A recent and more authoritative ruling is that of the Council of the Société Française des Collectionneurs d’Ex-Libris, which not only permits autographs and other manuscript entries in books to be styled Ex-libris, but opens the columns of its journal to the consideration and reproduction of the armorial bearings, monograms, and devices to be found stamped on the leather bindings of books, to which it also applies the term Ex-libris.
In the programme issued with the first part of the Archives de la Société Française occurs the following paragraph dealing with this question: “Bien des personnes considèrent, à bon droit, les marques imprimées en or, ou à froid sur les plats des livres, comme de veritables Ex-Libris. Ce sont, disait un érudit, les Ex-Libris Français par excellence, leur étude est liée à celle des Ex-Libris gravés. Les archives donneront une large hospitalité à tous les documents, notes, ou détermination d’armoiries que nos membres voudront bien nous communiquer.”
British collectors treat these super libros as things apart from ex-libris. A system which includes book-plates, autographs, and armorial bearings on bookbindings under the one term Ex-Libris leads to confusion in correspondence, and is therefore to be deprecated.
The earliest known examples of ex-libris are German, and the custom of using them originated no doubt in that country, where costly bindings, with arms emblazoned on the covers, as in France and Italy, were seldom indulged in.
Earliest in the field in the art of printing, and prolific in book-making, the Germans never attached very particular importance to elegant and sumptuous bindings.
Valuing their books for their intrinsic, rather than extrinsic merits, they covered them with good stout wooden boards and strong metal clasps, and soon discovered that a printed label, or a rough woodcut of a coat-of-arms, was as useful a mode of proclaiming the ownership of a volume as the showy, but costly, system of heraldic emblazoning in gold, silver, and colours, adopted by their more luxurious neighbours.
Hence it is not so very uncommon to find German ex-libris dated in the early years of the sixteenth century, whereas the earliest known French plate is of a much later date. In fact, no French ex-libris of undoubted authenticity has been discovered with an earlier date than 1574, a memorable year for collectors, as being that which is also found on the earliest known English plate, the fine armorial of Sir Nicholas Bacon, a facsimile of which will be found in Mr. Griggs’s valuable collection of “Examples of Armorial Book-Plates,” 1884.
Unfortunately, the first French dated ex-libris is nothing more than a plain label printed with movable type, and bearing the inscription: “Ex Bibliothecâ Caroli Albosii E. Eduensis. Ex labore quies. 1574.”
Now, with the exception of the dated autographs of owners of books, with which we are not here dealing, this ex-libris of the book collector of Autun is the earliest dated example of a French mark of possession which has yet been found affixed to the interior of a book in any French library.
It may well be, however, that this was not actually the first ex-libris employed in France, for there exist, in collections of old engravings, many nameless coats-of-arms emblazoned by French artists in the sixteenth century, the origin and use of which are doubtful, and may remain unrecognized for ever.
A long interval occurs between 1574 and the next dated plate, which is that of Alexandre Bouchart, Sieur de Blosseville, an ex-libris, folio size, engraved by Léonard Gaultier, and dated 1611.
Alexandre Bouchart was councillor in the parliament of Rouen; he died some time before 1622. His ex-libris was found fixed on the cover of a copy of the works of Ptolemy in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. The “Ptolemy” was printed in Amsterdam, 1605, folio.
This engraving is exceedingly valuable on account of its rarity, its early date, the beauty of its design, and the simplicity and purity of its heraldry. M. Henri Bouchot gives a reproduction of it in his work on “Les Ex-Libris” (p. 32), but as it is only a quarter the size of the original, and is not clearly printed, it gives but a faint idea of the beauty of the work. This is, according to the most recent investigation, the next French plate to that of Charles Ailleboust d’Autun, in order of date as actually printed or engraved on the ex-libris itself, and of unquestionable authenticity.
Then comes a plate which is not only of the greatest interest on account of its antiquity, but also because of its large size, its extreme rarity, and the quaint design. The plate is that of Melchior de la Vallée, Canon, etc., of St. George at Nancy, which bears the date 1613 in the centre of the pedestal. The shield at the top bears the arms of Melchior de la Vallée, not tinctured, supported by two angels, one of whom holds over the shield the hat of a protonotaire of the Court of Rome. Below, in an oval escutcheon, are the names and titles of the owner, supported on the left by the Virgin Mary carrying the infant Jesus, and on the right by St. Nicholas with three small children.
An account of this plate was furnished to the “Journal de la Société d’Archéologie Lorraine” (Nancy, 1864), by M. Beaupré, and Poulet-Malassis also mentions it, but at second-hand, as he had not seen it, and he gives the date incorrectly as 1611. It is not signed, but has been attributed to Jacques Callot and, with more probability, to Jacques Bellange.
There is a lapse of nearly forty years before we come to the next dated plate—André Felibien, Escuier, Sieur des Avaux, Historiographe du Roy, a fine armorial ex-libris, dated 1650.
Some excellent examples are known which prove that between 1574 and 1650 book-plates were engraved and coming into general use, but as they are not dated their age can only be approximately arrived at from internal evidence. Those French gentlemen of the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries who loved books, and formed large libraries, adopted the Italian fashion of having their treasures sumptuously bound. The magnificently illuminated manuscripts, and livres d’heures, which were produced for the great lords and ladies in the fifteenth century, required no ex-libris, for on nearly every page occurred the arms or badges, the ciphers, or the initials of the fortunate owner, whose right to the book was thus for ever placed beyond all question or doubt. The invention of printing, and the consequent rapid multiplication of books, although it greatly interfered with the choice individuality of each impression, did not at once totally destroy it.
The early printers left blanks for initials and illuminations, which were afterwards filled in, freehand, by the artists who had hitherto been employed to illuminate the manuscripts, their services were thus in greater demand than ever. Most of the early printed books were heavy folios, and were sumptuously bound, the arms of the owners being grandly emblazoned in the centre of the side boards; generally with some cipher, flower, or monogram in the corners, and the monogram, or one of the principal charges of the shield, repeated between each band on the back. The present custom of ranging books closely in cases, with only their backs in view, was not suitable for these ponderous tomes. Some of the more ordinary works were placed loosely in open cases round the library, with their fore-edges towards the reader, but the valuable books were fully displayed on long tables or counters, of the right height for a reader to stand at and turn them over without fatigue. Thus the beauty of the binding was seen at once, and must have been so fearfully tantalizing to the visiting bibliomaniac, that the owners often thought it advisable to chain their volumes in their places. With these, as with the manuscripts, and for similar reasons, the use of ex-libris long appeared unnecessary, which accounts for their somewhat late adoption in France; the marks of ownership are on the bindings themselves, the lovely productions of the early masters of bibliopegy, whose elegance and style modern binders vainly attempt to imitate, and cannot excel.
To collect early bindings is a noble hobby, but one which is, and ever must remain, the hobby of a few wealthy collectors, whereas the collection of ex-libris was, until quite recently, a taste requiring patience and skill rather than a well-filled purse.
Styles and periods in French ex-libris are not nearly so well defined, nor so easily recognized, as they are in British plates by the simple terms we use, such as Early English, Jacobean, Chippendale, wreath and ribbon, book-pile, library interior, etc.
French military plates are often decorated with flags, cannon, and fine trophies of arms, but book-piles and library interiors are somewhat uncommon, as are also early plates containing the portraits of their owners.
One of the earliest portrait plates is that of Amy Lamy, with the motto “Usque ad aras,” probably engraved by some pupil of Thomas de Leu, of which the date is doubtful.
Another, and of greater interest, is that of the famous critic, the Abbé Desfontaines (1685-1745), a fine engraving by Schmit, after Tocqué, representing Petr. Fr. Guyot Desfontaines presb. Rothomag., with the following lines:
Dum te Phœbus amat scribentem, Mœvius odit,
Et lepidis salibus mæret inepta cohors.
Which a French admirer translates thus:
Chéri du dieu des arts, craint et haï des sots,
L’Ignorance en courroux frémit de ses bons mots.
On modern ex-libris portraits occasionally occur, as on that of M. Manet, with the punning phrase, “Manet et Manebit,” and that of a well-known English collector and scholar, Mr. H. S. Ashbee, designed by Paul Avril, a French artist. Another represents M. Georges Vicaire, in the costume of a chef, superintending the preparation of a ragout of books to please the literary gourmands. But probably the finest modern portrait ex-libris is that drawn by M. Henry André, the book-plate artist, for himself: this is dated 1894.
The collector must be on his guard against modern reprints from old plates, or ex-libris printed from re-engraved copper plates.
French collectors will commission engravers to copy rare old plates rather than be without examples of them in their albums; this they do openly and acknowledge frankly; but it is sometimes otherwise with the men whom they employ. They work off a number of copies for sale, mix them up with a parcel of genuine ex-libris, and so deceive the unwary collector.
The British collector will not find it easy to add much to his store in Paris, unless he is prepared to pay prices quite out of proportion to those usually charged for plates in this country.
In the first place, it is almost a waste of time to ask for ex-libris in any of the ordinary second-hand book shops; the books are all fairly well gleaned before reaching there, by individuals who collect the ex-libris for certain dealers who make a speciality of them. These dealers are not very numerous, they are all well known to the French collectors, and they have standing orders to reserve all their finest specimens for these regular customers. Consequently the stray passer-by, or the unfortunate foreigner, has little chance of picking up any but common or uninteresting plates.
In provincial towns there is, of course, less demand for plates, but a second-hand book shop in a French provincial town is usually a depressing place, and the books they have for sale seldom contain plates more interesting than a school or college-prize label. Yet these are occasionally very pretty little engravings, and the collector who prizes pictorial ex-libris would be glad to possess such a plate as that, for instance, designed by Apoux for the Institution Guillot, of Colombes (Seine).
The French take considerable interest in the historical, antiquarian, and literary associations of their country, and there are many enthusiastic collectors of ex-libris in France; it was therefore somewhat remarkable that a society of collectors was not formed at least as early in Paris as ours was in London. At length, however, the topic was broached by Dr. Louis Bouland in a letter published in “La Curiosité Universelle” (1, Rue Rameau, Paris) on March 14, 1892, No. 269, from which the following are extracts:
“In No. 266 of ‘La Curiosité Universelle’ I pointed out the advantages and pleasures to be derived from the formation of a Society of Collectors of Ex-Libris. I then mentioned that I should be pleased to correspond with collectors who might be willing to form the nucleus of such a society, and I have already received many promises of support.
“Those who have written to me are of the opinion, in which I concur, that the best way to arrive at a practical result would be to constitute a society to which each member should pay a subscription, the funds thus obtained being employed in printing and publishing a small independent journal.
“To achieve this result some one must take the initiative, write to the collectors, and call a preliminary meeting.
“I am quite willing to do this, and ask the support of all my brother collectors, to whom I offer the use of my rooms for their first meeting.
“They have but to write to me, and if they only take as much interest in the scheme as I do, it must be a success.”
At first the efforts of Dr. Bouland did not meet with much encouragement, and for a whole year he was striving to start the society. At length the first meeting was held at his house on the 30th April, 1893, when a committee was appointed, the rules were drawn up, and the society definitely formed. That Dr. Bouland should have been elected its president was a compliment which was due to him as its founder, but those who have the honour of his acquaintance well know that he also merited the distinction on account of his learning, his researches in all branches of bibliographical lore, his tastes for heraldry and art, and his ardour as a book-plate collector.
In December, 1893, the first number of the Society’s Journal was published, entitled Archives de la Société Française des Collectionneurs d’Ex-Libris, a handsome folio which has since been issued regularly every month, with numerous illustrations and reproductions. In this publication it will be seen that the name of the energetic president frequently appears as a contributor.
Les Archives de la Société are published by Messrs. Paul L. Huard, No. 28, rue des Bons Enfants, Paris, and the Secretary is Mons. Léon Quantin, 20 bis, rue Louis Blanc, Paris.
CHAPTER II.
IDENTIFICATION AND CLASSIFICATION.
The French name the styles in vogue at certain periods after their kings, as the style Henri IV., Louis XIII., Louis XIV., Régence., Louis XV., and Louis XVI.; but it must not be assumed that these styles exactly synchronize with the reigns of the monarchs whose names they bear; neither are they so easily classified or differentiated as are our British styles. The following designs, however, are never found earlier than the periods whose names and dates they bear.
The Henri IV. and Louis XIII. styles are very similar, an oval shield surrounded by an ornamental cartouche, either having angels or mermaids, or garlands of flowers, worked into the frame, both sides of which are alike, or only differ in small details of light and shade, etc. Of the two, the later style is the simpler and less decorative.
The style Louis XIV. is but a development of the above. It is grander, more pompous, more ornate. The cartouche projects further from the edge of the shield, it terminates at the top in a large shell, in which sometimes a female face is shown, or it may be a canopy is suspended above by festoons of flowers. The ornamentation is still symmetrical, and the foliations of the frame are precise and formal, every line having a definite purpose in the design.
In what is called the style Régence (some time after 1715) all this is changed, a light arabesque design is found, quite à la Watteau, graceful and frivolous. Little urns on little brackets, tiny heads springing up from nowhere, dainty festoons trailing round and about without any definite aim in life, and finials at top and bottom which finish nothing because nothing has been commenced.
Pretty, but short-lived, the style Régence gave way to what is known as the Louis XV. This has been stigmatized as Rococo, but little we heed the sneer; it has given us the loveliest of book-plates, and fortunately this was the period when libraries and book-plates were most in fashion in France. Curiously enough our artistic neighbours claim this style, with all its graceful convolutions and irregularities, its scorn for anything approaching regularity of form, as essentially French, whilst we, with equal certainty, assign its invention to Chippendale and name it after him. Without stopping to discuss the question of precedence, that name will suffice to indicate to any British collector the style Louis XV.: a pear-shaped shield in a framework ornamented with rockwork, flowers, branches, and ribbons, a coronet, probably very much on one side, not a straight line anywhere, and no two parts of the design similar, the supporters being shown with the same disregard for method or heraldic convention.
The reaction from this style to that of Louis XVI. is again clearly marked. Straight lines and formal outlines reappear with solid square bases to support the shields. Above the shields the coronets are clearly and neatly shown, and from them hang, in graceful curves, wreaths of flowers, festoons of roses, palm branches, or laurel leaves. On the bases, in some cases, the names of the owners appear, in others geometrical ornaments, Greek key patterns, or simple festoons. This style, somewhat formal and severe, yet essentially French, lasted until the Revolution.
Under the first Empire there was no style, or what was worse, a bad style, stiff, formal, semi-Greek, semi-Egyptian, and wholly false.
The Restoration brought little improvement—a Gothic revival, here borrowing, there stealing, from all the styles that had been in vogue, and spoiling all in turn.
And so it lasted until the fall of the second Empire, since when a revival has set in of national life, of national art, and of art in book-plates.
In attempting to identify anonymous and undated French plates, the first point to be noticed is, whether the tinctures and metals are clearly defined in the conventional manner; if they are, the plate will not be earlier than about 1638 or 1639, when this system was first generally adopted.
The heraldic shield, thus emblazoned, with more or less embellishment, allegorical and pictorial, flourished, from 1639, for just 150 years. In 1789 almost all the old symbols of nobility and titles of honour in France ceased abruptly; crowns and coronets were thought little of at that date, but—and this was worse—a little later on they were thought so much of as greatly to imperil the lives of those who bore them. Indeed, the revolutionary period affected book-plates very severely from 1789 until the end of 1804, when Napoleon, having obtained the dignity of emperor, wished to restore some appearance of a court. He therefore revived heraldry in a modified form, and placed it under certain clearly defined regulations.
But the new nobility of the Empire cared little for heraldic insignia, and still less for books or book-plates, consequently for the next ten years the crop is small and comparatively uninteresting. As a rule the plates of the Empire are easily identified; if heraldic, by the simplicity and regularity of the design, and by the peculiarly characteristic cap, or toque, designed by David, Napoleon’s favourite artist, which was used on most of them in place of crest or coronet.
The non-heraldic plates of this period are also very plain, often indeed being merely printed labels, as in the case, for instance, of that of Marshal Suchet.
On the Restoration of the Bourbon, Louis XVIII., all the Napoleonic badges and devices were swept away, and no satisfactory regulations were devised to replace them. The old nobility, or what remained of them, returned to France and resumed their ancient titles and armorial bearings, but the general public refused to treat them seriously, and heraldic book-plates have been on the wane ever since. Of late years nearly all men celebrated in arts or letters have adopted either allegorical, pictorial, or humorous ex-libris, whilst modern plates which contain the grandest coats-of-arms frequently belong to those who are least entitled to bear them.
The task of identifying unknown ex-libris of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, those which bear a simple coat-of-arms without name of owner, or of artist or engraver, requires some patience, a collection of books of reference, and a knowledge of at least the rudiments of heraldry. The collector will soon learn to distinguish early French woodcuts from German, one marked difference being that nearly all German work was cut in relief, whilst French artists worked in the hollow, thus producing an engraving which feels rough where the ink lies. The crests on German plates are also very unlike those used in France; indeed, crests are comparatively rare on French book-plates, whilst the Germans frequently introduce several on one achievement; another very distinctive feature being the two large proboscis, or pipe-like horns, rising from the sides of the helmet, the Chalumeaux, of such constant occurrence in German crest heraldry, but rarely, if ever, found on a purely French ex-libris.
A typical example of this peculiar ornament will be found on the ex-libris of Hieronimus Ebner, of Nuremberg, dated 1516, which is attributed to Albert Dürer; this is reproduced by M. Henri Bouchot, page 25. Another example of this ornament will be seen on the Alsatian plate of Le R. Père Ingold de l’Hay.
The mode of engraving the armorial tinctures and bearings will probably show, as we have seen, whether the plate is earlier or later than 1639. Should the plate carry the name of artist or engraver, the date may be arrived at approximately by reference to the list of Artists and Engravers.
Or, assuming that the plate has neither the name of the owner nor that of the artist, it may carry a motto, in which case several works may be consulted for information. One of the most modern is “Le Dictionnaire des Devises,” by Alphonse Chassant, which contains an enormous number of war cries, mottoes, and devices, adopted by distinguished families, not only in France, but in other nations. For readiness of reference these are arranged in alphabetical order, according to the first word of the sentence.
Another useful reference book is “Historic Devices, Badges, and War Cries,” by Mrs. Bury Palliser (London: Sampson Low, Son, and Marston, 1870). This contains not only war cries and mottoes, but illustrations of some hundreds of family badges and devices, which are of great assistance in deciding the ownership of foreign nameless plates.
Finally, assuming a French plate to have no other distinctive mark than a shield with heraldic bearings, the first work to consult should be the heraldic dictionary of the engraver Paillot, “La vraye et parfaite science des armoiries ou l’indice armorial de feu maistre Louvan Geliot, advocat,” par Pierre Paillot; Paris, 1660. In this M. Paillot has arranged in alphabetical order all the terms used in heraldry, with cross references to those in whose arms the various charges occur. Thus, supposing an ex-libris has a shield on which appears a lion rampant, by consulting his work under the words “lion” and “rampant,” some reference will probably be found to the family in which this ex-libris took its origin.
Although this work dates from the seventeenth century, it may often be consulted with advantage for modern arms, as in many good old families the principal charges have not been altered very materially. Another advantage in Paillot’s “Armorial” is the fact that he has not confined his attention only to princes and the nobility, but has, on the contrary, given the preference to the gentry, the minor public officials, and middle-class families.
There is a similar heraldic table, but on a limited scale, in the “Armorial du Bibliophile,” by Joannis Guigard. This work contains illustrations of many hundreds of French coats-of-arms, copied from the bindings of books, all of which are fully described. There is also an index to the principal charges borne on the shields of most of the great book collectors of France, information which is fully as useful to the collector of ex-libris as to the collector of ancient bindings.
There are other works also, such as “Les Grands Officiers de la Couronne,” by Père Anselme, and the “Armorial” of Chevillard, but they are not so well adapted for book-plate collectors who have only limited time, and probably but a rudimentary knowledge of French heraldry.
On a few early plates the names of French towns may be found latinized, thus:
These are the towns most likely to be met with; should others occur, not here enumerated, the collector may consult A Topographical Gazetteer, by the Rev. Henry Cotton, D.C.L.
Which is the best system of classification?
This question has often been asked, and no satisfactory reply to it has yet been given.
It must, indeed, remain to a large extent a matter of individual taste, depending on the leisure and pecuniary means of the collector, the extent and value of his collection, and the special circumstances (if any) for which the collection has been formed. There are three principal systems, each of which has its advantages and its drawbacks, 1. The simple alphabetical. 2. The national, with subdivisions. 3. The arrangement according to the styles of the designs.
No doubt the purely alphabetical arrangement, according to the family names of the plate owners, is at once the easiest to plan out, and the simplest for the purposes of reference. It also lends itself well to the tracing of family history, and the comparison of the modifications of heraldry in successive generations.
In libraries, public institutions, and very large private collections, this alphabetical method must almost necessarily be adopted, each plate being as readily accessible for reference as is a word in a dictionary. But it involves a large number of albums to allow sufficient room in each letter for additions, and the plates are all mixed in one heterogeneous mass, with little regard to age, style, or beauty in design. In the department of engravings in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, there are upwards of sixty large volumes full of ex-libris, arranged alphabetically. This collection was commenced about twenty years ago, and, under the energetic supervision of M. Georges Duplessis, it has rapidly increased, and the alphabetical arrangement has been adopted to facilitate easy reference and comparison.
But M. Henri Bouchot, who, being an official in the print department there, speaks with authority, remarks that enthusiastic collectors are also students of history in their special branches, and will (that is, if their leisure permit) be certain to prefer some more regular and distinctive system of classification than the simple alphabetical arrangement.
He therefore recommends the second plan, namely, the division by countries first, and next, the arrangement in strict chronological order. There are, however, many difficulties in the way of this seemingly ideal plan. One may, it is true, soon learn to distinguish, with a fair amount of accuracy, between French, German, Italian, and British book-plates; but with other nations the distinctions are less marked, and Spanish, Dutch, Swiss, or Belgian plates can be easily confounded with those of their immediate neighbours.
Again, in dealing with plates which have neither name, artist’s signature, nor date, the chronological subdivisions can only be decided by a constant comparison of the styles in use at various periods, and by well-known artists and engravers.
This practice gives the collector a great insight into the progress of art, and the development of taste, yet it demands both time and patience to carry it out. Finally, it is true, the collector will have formed a continuous series of heraldic devices illustrating family history more completely than can be arrived at in any other manner. It is only by this constant study and comparison that the student of French ex-libris can hope to acquire a knowledge of their details, so as to be able to arrange his collection with a due attention to time, place, and families.
The third system advocated, namely, the arrangement according to the styles of the designs on the plates, may be interesting from an artistic point of view, but is certainly not very methodical.
A collector might divide his French plates under the following heads:
1. Heraldic. Subdivided thus: Before 1639. From 1639 to 1789. From 1789 to 1804. From 1804 to the restoration of the Monarchy. Modern plates. Plates having printed dates to be kept apart from those not dated.
2. Pictorial. Subdivided thus: Woodcuts. Copper plates. Etchings. Lithographs. And, again, as library interiors, portraits, war trophies, ladies’ plates, landscapes, punning plates, etc.
3. Artists. A collection of signed plates carefully arranged under the names of their artists would, no doubt, be of great interest for comparison and study, but rather more for the lover of engraving pur et simple than for the lover of ex-libris, or for the student of heraldry and family history.
The great difficulty of any system of classification by the design is, that some plates might very properly be placed under three or four categories, so that, unless the collection be carefully indexed, the trouble is great in seeking hurriedly for any particular plate. The labour involved in writing an exhaustive index can only be appreciated by those who have once made one, and many who start zealously to work at the outset, let the new additions fall in arrear, and the whole scheme is then abandoned as being too troublesome.
In conclusion, I can only repeat that the choice of the system of arrangement depends more upon the tastes of the collector himself than upon any other consideration; but that, on the whole, the balance of advantages appears to incline in favour of the alphabetical classification under surnames, keeping each family as distinct as the information, heraldic and other, on the plates will allow.
Plates of royalty and nobility should be kept apart from the commoners, and arranged, first, in order of rank, second, alphabetically by name. The method most generally in use at present for preserving the plates, when arranged, appears to be what is known as the ex-libris case. If this arrangement be adopted, then each plate must be separately mounted on a card of the correct size. These cases and cards can be purchased ready for use from Mr. W. H. Batho, of 7, Gresham Street, London, and the advantages of this arrangement are that any plate or plates can be withdrawn without injury, and additions can at any time be made, whilst the backs of the cards may be utilized for MS. information about either the plate or its former owner, and newspaper cuttings can be affixed. If the plates are to be inserted in albums, the following regulations should be carefully observed:
Arrange the plates on one side only of each leaf in the album, allowing ample room for additions in each division of the alphabet. On no account fasten the plate down firmly on the paper, fix it only at one or two corners with a hinge made of gummed paper, or of the outside strip which surrounds sheets of postage stamps.
This method allows of the easy removal of any plate without damage, either to the plate or the album, as often as may be desired. The convenience of this will be readily appreciated by veteran collectors, who know how often one wants to exchange one plate for another, and how many good examples have been damaged in the attempt to remove them when once they have been firmly fixed down with gum or “stickphast” paste.
Albums are more convenient for large plates than the cases. They are also better adapted for showing off several varieties of a plate on one page, whilst, for collections in large numbers, they are certainly rather cheaper.
CHAPTER III.
A FEW NOTES ON FRENCH HERALDRY.
To show, first of all, the close family resemblance in nomenclature, an amusing copy of verses may be given from an old work (carefully preserving the quaint orthography of the original), of which the title was: “La Sience de la Noblesse ou la Nouvelle Metode du Blason,” par le P. C. F. Menestrier. A Paris, chez Etiene Michallet, premier Imprimeur du Roi, rue S. Jaque, a l’Image S. Paul, MDCXCI.
ABRÉGÉ
du Blason en vers.
“Le Blason composé de diferens emaux,
N’a que 4 couleurs, 2 panes, 2 metaux.
Et les marques d’honeur qui suivent la naissance,
Distinguent la Noblesse, & font sa recompense.
Or, argent, sable, azur, gueules, sinople, vair,
Hermine, au naturel & la couleur de chair,
Chef, pal, bande, sautoir, face, barre, bordure,
Chevron, pairle, orle, & croix de diverse figure.
Et plusieurs autres corps nous peignent la valeur,
Sans metal sur metal, ni couleur sur couleur.
Suports, cimier, bourlet, cri de guerre, devise,
Colliers, manteaux, honeurs, & marques de l’Eglise,
Sont de l’art du Blason les pompeux ornemens,
Dont les corps sont tirés de tous les Elemens,
Les astres, les rochers, fruits, fleurs, arbres & plantes,
Et tous les animaux de formes differentes,
Servent à distinguer, les fiefs & les maisons,
Et des Communautés composent les Blasons.
De leurs termes precis enoncez les figures,
Selon qu’elles auront de diverses postures.
Le Blason plein echoit en partage à l’ainé,
Tout autre doit briser comme il est ordonné.”
The deux panes in the second line refers to furs (pannes in modern heraldry). This book is illustrated, and in it the tinctures are correctly represented by lines and dots, and the remark is made “Autrefois on marquoit les Emaux par des lettres,” but the author does not allude to the invention of the system of dots and lines attributed to Father Silvestre Petra Sancta.
The introduction states that the author, the Reverend Father Claude François Menestrier, was born in Lyons in 1631, and had been for many years a member of the Society of Jesus (Jesuits). He wrote many other learned treatises on heraldry.
For the tinctures the French use the same terms as ourselves, except that for green they employ sinople, because vert, properly pronounced, is not easily to be distinguished from the fur vair. This is a sensible distinction, as is also their expression, contre hermine, to describe what British heralds call ermines, in contradistinction to ermine, a difference so little marked in our case as easily to pass unnoticed and give rise to errors.
The conventional system above mentioned of engraving the tinctures is also the same in France as in Great Britain, and these devices may be easily fixed on the mind of the merest novice by a short study of Mr. J. Ashby-Sterry’s entertaining (proposed) work on “Heraldry made Easy:”
“If Argent, my friend, you would wish to attain,
You’ll do it by leaving your paper quite plain.
If metal more tempting you wish to seek for,
Deck paper with dots, it will represent Or.
Perpendicular lines, by armorial rules,
Convey to the herald the notion of Gules.
But lines horizontal and perfectly true
Mean Azure, best known to the vulgar as blue.
For Vert take your pencil,—I beg you’ll attend,—
Draw parallel lines to the course of the bend.
The sinister bend you must follow, I’m sure,
To give to the eye the idea of Purpure.
Lines crossing each other and forming a plaid
Will simulate Sable, so sombre and sad.
For Tenne your pencil should cunningly blend
The lines of the fess and the sinister bend.
Lines crossing each other and forming a net,
Will signify Sanguine, you must not forget!”
As most of the principal heraldic devices used on British arms were adopted when Norman French was our courtly language, and are described in that tongue, it does not require much study to enable anyone who can decipher a British coat-of-arms to do the same with an ordinary French shield, or even to understand the written description of one.
Yet coming to more advanced heraldry, dealing with such questions as descents, marriages, arms of assumption, of succession, of concession, and the proper marshalling of arms, the difficulties increase, and many apparent contradictions arise.
Until the downfall of Louis XVI., the aristocracy of France was not only the most ancient and the proudest in Europe, but, speaking generally, possessed higher hereditary privileges and greater power than the nobility of any other civilized nation in the world.
One of their most cherished rights was that of bearing coat armour, but little by little a rich middle class sprung up (the despised bourgeoisie), which misappropriated coronets and coats-of-arms, and shortly before the outbreak of the Revolution, heraldry in France was in a most confused and chaotic condition.
As to the origin of French heraldry, little is known with any certainty. That tournaments were first held in Germany about 938 is generally admitted. At these the fundamental rules of all heraldry must, no doubt, have been formulated, whence they gradually passed into France, through the north-eastern provinces. Then followed the Crusades, which gave a great impetus to the science of heraldry, as is shown by the vast number of crosses in early arms; the crescents and stars, which were copied from the captured standards of the Saracens; and the fabulous monsters of the East, which became the heraldic devices of many noble families descended from ancient warriors who fought in Palestine. Louis VII. (Louis le Jeune), who superintended all the arrangements for the coronation of his son, Philip Augustus, was the first to employ the Fleur-de-Lys as the royal badge of France, which he caused to be emblazoned on all the ornaments and utensils employed in the coronation ceremony. He was also the first king who employed that badge on his seal.[1] This was before 1180.
Henceforward heraldry became generally popular, and many works were written to define the rules of chivalry, each one more elaborate than the preceding. King John of France devoted much attention to heraldry, as did several of his successors, and then the historians Froissart, Monstrelet, and Olivier de la Marche introduced it into their chronicles. Indeed, there is scarcely one early French romance which does not contain the full blazon of the imaginary arms conferred upon its fabulous personages.
When at length heraldry became fully recognized, its signs and emblems were chosen as the badges of hereditary nobility. In the course of time this attracted the envy of vain and unscrupulous people, who usurped the insignia of nobility which they were not by law entitled to wear.
These malpractices gave rise to great confusion, and were not only severely reprehended by all true lovers of heraldry, but were the subject of many royal edicts, commanding that all offenders should be heavily fined.
Before the year 1555 it had been a recognized custom that a member of any one of the great families of France might change his name and his arms without royal authority, a practice which was particularly useful in certain marriages.
Thus, supposing the last inheritor of a famous family name to have been a female, on marriage her husband could assume her name and armorial bearings, and thus perpetuate a line which otherwise (as in Great Britain) would have become extinct.
But, as may be easily imagined, this voluntary substitution of name and arms gave rise to many abuses and disputes. Accordingly, by an ordinance of King Henry II., dated at Amboise, March 26, 1555, it was forbidden to assume the name, or the arms, of any family other than one’s own, without having first obtained letters patent, and a fine of 1,000 livres was to be paid by any person usurping the arms and insignia of nobility.
These regulations were renewed and made even more stringent in subsequent reigns, notably by Charles IX. in 1560, by Henry III. in 1579, by Henry IV. in 1600, by Louis XIII. and Louis XIV. at various dates; whilst in 1696 there was a general visitation, when a tax of 20 livres was levied for the registration of every coat-of-arms. Henceforward, and almost up to the outbreak of the Revolution, edicts were issued with the object of preventing the French people from usurping arms and titles of nobility which had not been duly sealed and confirmed by the authorities.
But all these regulations were to very little purpose, and towards the close of the eighteenth century the confusion in heraldry became extreme, especially in the matter of coronets and supporters, which, as the book-plates of the period show, were assumed in a reckless manner by many who had no right to carry them.
Then came the great upheaval of society, and during the first period of the Revolution, when even to be suspected of nobility was a crime, haste was made to erase, or omit, all the signs of noble descent which had hitherto been so readily assumed, and in their places to insert caps of liberty and Republican mottoes, such as Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité, or La Liberté ou la Mort.
But in truth the revolutionary period was not productive of much in the way of books or book-plates. Society was too excited to devote its time to such frivolities, and le rasoir national was more busy than the printing press or the graver’s tool. Most of the literature of the period consisted of polemical tracts or political pamphlets, and comparatively few libraries were formed.
As soon, however, as Napoleon reached the summit of power, he set vigorously to work to restore something like order in all branches of the public services, which had been reduced to chaos during the troubles. One of the topics to which he early directed his attention, and his brilliant talent for organization, was heraldry. Yet, although he readily discarded republican simplicity and equality, he dared not entirely revert to the ancien régime, nor indeed could he have done so had he desired.
Of the old nobility many had perished on the scaffold, or on the battle-fields, others had fled to foreign countries, and their castles and estates had been confiscated by the State. Under the comparatively mild rule of Napoleon a few members of the ancienne noblesse ventured to return to France—indeed, several distinguished Royalists were specially invited to do so,—yet the court of the First Empire was composed, not of these, but for the most part of the soldiers, statesmen, and men of letters who had assisted to place him on the throne, and on whom he, in return, conferred titles as brilliant as any that had been formerly held under the old Bourbon kings.
Marshal of France, prince, duke, marquis, count, baron, all flourished once again. Very new and very grand, but of origin most doubtful. Coats-of-arms were granted, and Louis David, Napoleon’s favourite artist, was called upon to design a new style of head-dress to denote the ranks which had, in former days, been indicated by various forms of coronets and helmets, as in British heraldry.
The blazonry under the Empire, being military in its origin, was conceived in the true spirit of military uniformity, each grade being as distinctively marked as the colonel, officers, and rank and file would be in a regiment of infantry drawn up for a general inspection.
The result of blending these three distinct systems—the old style, the Napoleonic, and that of the Restoration period—is somewhat confusing. A few families adhere to the old style, some to the Napoleonic, and the student of French heraldry must make himself acquainted with all.
But reverting to the pre-Revolution period, it appears that about 1700, helmets, wreaths, and mantling began to go out of use on ex-libris, and were replaced by coronets, which at first indicated with some certainty the rank of the owner. But after a time individuals assumed coronets to which they were not entitled, whilst members of the lower ranks of nobility promoted themselves, without ceremony, to the higher grades; the baron became a marquis, and the count assumed the coronet of a duke. An ordinance of 1663, which forbade the usurpation of the insignia of nobility under the penalty of a fine of 1,500 livres, stopped these abuses for a time. But the law soon became a dead letter, and one might suppose, at the present time, that no such regulation had ever existed, so systematically was it evaded.
As, however, in early unnamed ex-libris the coronets have a certain small value in assisting in their identification, a brief description of the distinctive features of the principal coronets may be useful to collectors.
The royal crown of France was a circle, surrounded by eight fleurs-de-lis, of which only three and two halves are visible in engravings; these were surmounted by the arches of a diadem, on the summit of which was a double fleur-de-lis.
The Dauphin of France (eldest son of the king) carried the same number of fleurs-de-lis, but the arches over them were formed of dolphins. The eldest son of the King of France took his title from the old province of Dauphiné, in the south-east of France, and was usually spoken of as Monsieur Le Dauphin. The first Dauphin was created in 1349, and the last, Louis Antoine, Duc d’Angoulême, son of King Charles X., assumed the title on his father’s accession to the throne of France on September 16th, 1824, but owing to the Revolution of 1830, which dethroned Charles X., he did not succeed to the throne. The Duc d’Angoulême died on June 3rd, 1844, when in all probability this ancient title became extinct. The Dauphin bore quarterly the arms of France and Dauphiné.
The other princes of the blood royal carried a coronet surmounted by the same number of fleurs-de-lis, three and two halves, without any diadem.
Dukes carried a golden crown having eight ornamented strawberry leaves (fleurons), of which, in engravings, only three leaves and two halves are visible.
Marquis: Four strawberry leaves, between each of which is a trefoil formed of pearls. One and two half leaves are visible, separated by two trefoils.
Counts: A coronet surmounted by sixteen large pearls, held upon projecting points. Only nine pearls are shown in engravings.
Viscounts: Four large pearls (three only showing), with smaller pearls between.
Baron: A golden crown surrounded by strings of pearls.
Chevalier-bannerets: They carried a ring of gold ornamented with pearls.
Wreath: A roll of ribbons of the tinctures of the shield, or of the favourite colours of the knight’s betrothed. This was placed over the helmet simply as an ornament, and not as any indication of the rank of the bearer.
The rank of Marshal of France was indicated by two batons in saltire behind the shield. These batons were azure, semée of fleurs-de-lis, or. Under the Bourbons, Marshals of France were numerous, and this badge is frequently met with on book-plates.
Officers of artillery usually decorated their plates with cannons and cannon balls below the arms; cavalry officers placed trophies of flags behind their shields. The Admiral of France (answering to our old title Lord High Admiral) bore two anchors in saltire behind his shield, whilst admirals carried an anchor in pale behind their shields. The Chancellor of France bore two maces in saltire behind his shield.
In a similar manner, all the great Officers of State, and the Court dignitaries, bore the badges of their offices in addition to their family arms, and numerous as were these functionaries, there could be no confusion between their achievements, so appropriate were their devices to their offices.
Such were the Court regulations, and so long as Louis XIV. reigned they were, no doubt, strictly enforced; but later on, under the Régence and Louis XV., a general laxity prevailed, indicative of the coming storm.
Mention is frequently found on old book-plates of various offices held under Parlement. In France, before the Revolution, there were twelve Parlements, namely, those of Paris, Toulouse, Grenoble, Bordeaux, Dijon, Rouen, Aix, Rennes, Pau, Metz, Douay, and Besançon, besides some local councils for the colonies.
These Parlements were simply local Courts of Justice, entitled to deal both with civil and criminal cases, and their functions in no way resembled those of the British Houses of Parliament.
The officers connected with these Courts were very numerous, and those of the higher grades were entitled to carry certain distinctive badges with their arms, and head-dresses denoting their rank.
In ex-libris printed before the Revolution it is not unusual to find the collars and insignia of the several orders of French knighthood, the principal of which were the order of Saint Denis, instituted in 1267; of Saint Michel, instituted by Louis XI. at the Château d’Amboise, August 1, 1469; of the Saint Esprit (Holy Ghost), instituted in 1578; of Notre Dame du Mont Carmel, instituted in 1607; and of Saint Louis, instituted in 1693. The chevaliers de Saint Michel wore a collar from which was pendent a medal, representing the archangel overthrowing the dragon; the collar of the Saint Esprit was formed of alternate fleurs-de-lis and the letter H interlaced, from which depended either a dove or a cross, according to the rank of the bearer.
The Knights of the Royal and Military order of Saint Louis carried a star with eight points, on which was the motto of the order: Bellicae virtutis praemium.
There was also a very ancient order, that of St. Lazare de Jerusalem, which was united by Henri IV. with that of Notre Dame du Mont Carmel.
Although the order of the Toison d’Or (Golden Fleece) was founded by a French prince, Philippe, Duke of Burgundy, in 1429, it passed into the hands of the House of Austria, and thence again into the possession of the kings of Spain, who became the sovereigns of the order.
Owing, no doubt, to the close family relations existing between the royal houses of France and Spain, the order of the Golden Fleece was conferred upon many of the French nobles (by permission of their king), and the collar, with the well-known badge of the pendent lamb, is to be found on many French achievements. The motto of the order is Pretium non vile laborum.
Of all these orders the most important were the Saint Michel, the Saint Esprit, and the Saint Louis, which were specially distinguished as “les Ordres du Roi” (the Orders of the King), he being their Chief and Grand Master. Chevaliers of the order of the Saint Esprit were always first admitted into the order of Saint Michel, so that the collars of these two orders are generally found together. The order of Saint Louis having been founded by Louis XIV. exclusively for the reward of military and naval services, is occasionally met with apart from the two other orders of the king. There was also an order, that of the Bee, intended for ladies only, which was founded in 1703.
Most of the above orders ceased to exist during the Revolution. That of the Saint Esprit was revived at the Restoration, but the last installation took place under Charles X., at the Tuileries, on May 31, 1830, and the latest surviving owner of the Order was the late Duc de Nemours; whilst that of Saint Louis, a distinctly Bourbon decoration, is probably still kept alive by the few remaining adherents of that luckless family.
In 1802 Napoleon, then First Consul, instituted the famous order of the Legion of Honour, for the reward of merit either in the army, navy, or in civil life. The order was confirmed by Louis XVIII. in 1815, and its rules and constitution were modified in 1816 and in 1851. M. Ambroise Thomas, on whom the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour was recently bestowed, is one of six civilians who at present hold that order. Meissioner is the only artist who has ever held this distinction. The number of Grand Crosses is limited to eighty, but for a long time past the number actually holding the decoration has varied between forty and fifty. When the Legion of Honour was created in 1802 by General Bonaparte, the holders of the Grand Cordon (now Grand Cross) were entitled to draw £800 a year; at the Restoration this amount was reduced by one-half. Nowadays the members of the Legion of Honour receive the following annuities: Knights, £10; Officers, £20; Commanders, £40; Grand Officers, £80; and Grand Crosses, £120. Decorations conferred on civilians do not carry with them any pension. Practically this is now the only order of knighthood existing in France, yet the number of men who are décoré is remarkable. They can scarcely be all chevaliers de la Légion d’Honneur, but the French have a passion for titles and orders, a craving for le galon, which, though somewhat incompatible with the republican form of government they have adopted, must be gratified.
This desire to raise oneself a rung or two on the social ladder, to which even sensible bibliophiles appear to have succumbed, is no new thing. It exists to-day, and has existed for centuries. Penalties, however severe, seem to have been unavailing, and even ridicule was found powerless to check this silly vanity.
A lawyer of Dijon, named Bernard, was ordered to erase from the tomb of his wife the girdle of nobility he had had carved around her epitaph. Others who carried the full-faced open helmets, proper only for emperors, kings, and sovereign princes, on their fantastic achievements, were compelled to adopt the closed helmet in profile proper for a simple gentleman.
Owners of assumed titles and of manufactured coats-of-arms were greatly alarmed a few years ago by the terribly sarcastic writings of an individual who styled himself the ghost of an ancient herald, Le Toison d’Or.[2]
In a series of letters published in “Le Voltaire” he exposed the faulty and ignorant system of heraldry in vogue, and the deceptive assumptions of titles, coronets, and armorial bearings in modern French Society.
Indeed, he remarked, to judge by appearances, one might imagine that the Revolution had destroyed nothing, but that, on the contrary, it had endeavoured to foster and encourage titles and aristocracy, so rapidly had they increased of late years.
Toison d’Or wished to alter all this, and the salons were greatly disturbed as he went to work chipping off titles and prefixes of nobility right and left. But all to no purpose, except indeed to cast doubts upon all French heraldry since the downfall of the Bourbons.
A title in France costs nothing, and deceives no one who has the slightest knowledge of family history and genealogy.
The following letter appeared in “Notes and Queries,” London, August 25, 1894:
“As there always appears to be a doubt in the public mind as to whether there is any office in France at all corresponding to our heralds’ offices in this country, I ventured to put out this query to a well-known authority in Paris, together with the queries as to whether there is any ground for the statement that the archives of the French Heralds’ College were destroyed by fire by the Commune, and also if there is any Heraldic or Genealogical Society at all corresponding to the Government Office; and I received the following reply:
“‘The old Government had the “Généalogistes du Roi,” for proofs of nobility, and the “Juges d’Armes,” such as d’Hozier and Cherieu. The Monarchical Governments of this century had the “Conseil du Sceau des Titres,” now suppressed. The archives of these officers are now dispersed, part to the Bibliothèque Nationale (Cabinet des Titres), part to the Hôtel de Soubise (in the series M. and MM.), part to the Ministère de la Justice (for the period after 1789). In short, the equivalent of the Heralds’ College of England never existed in France. However, the Conseil du Sceau had some similarity to that body. There is no Heraldic Society, yet some persons, without legal authority, occupy themselves with questions of nobility, but they necessarily cannot be regarded as altogether trustworthy. Not knowing of a Heralds’ College in France, I cannot accuse the Commune of having burnt the archives. The fires of 1871 destroyed the parochial registers (entries of birth, marriage, and death) preserved at the Hôtel de Ville, and in the Library of the Louvre, which included some precious MSS. containing some correspondence of the last two centuries.’”
“ARTHUR VICARS, Ulster.”
It will be seen that reference is made in the above letter to a certain un-official Heraldic Society, but shortly after the above correspondence was published, even that body was dissolved.
In May, 1895, there was sold by auction in the Hôtel des Ventes, in Paris, the whole of the archives accumulated by the French Heraldic College. Although it is true the institution was never anything but a private enterprise, it had had an uninterrupted existence of more than half a century, during which period a great store of genealogical documents had been amassed relating to the titled families of France. It was founded in 1841 by the Marquis de Magny, the compiler of the well-known “Livre d’Or de la Noblesse de France,” but the present generation of Frenchmen did not care sufficiently for rules of precedence and genealogical trees to support the institution. Hence the sale, consisting, it is computed, of 40,000 genealogical trees, and about 400,000 original family documents.
As to Frenchmen generally, they seem now to attach little importance to heraldry, and few literary men place arms on their book-plates. In fact, as M. Henri Bouchot observes: “Le blason à fait son temps, il ne se rencontre plus guère que dans les travaux des héraldistes et détonne un peu en ce moment.”
As a simple guide to French heraldic terms may be mentioned: “Traité Complet de la Science du Blason,” par Jouffroy D’Eschavannes. Edouard Rouveyre, rue des Saints Pères, Paris, 1880. This contains an excellent “Dictionnaire des Termes de Blason.”
Heraldically interesting is the ex-libris of the library of the Château du Verdier de Vauprivas, French King of Arms, with the old war-cry of the Bourbons, Mont-Joye St. Denis! and the owner’s motto, “Fear no Evil.”
“Clisson assura sa Majesté du gain de la bataille, le roi lui repondit: Connestable, Dieu le veeulle, nous irons donc avant au nom de Dieu et de Sainct Denis.”—Vulson de la Colombière.
CHAPTER IV.
EARLY EXAMPLES. FROM 1574 TO 1650.
The French shields of this first period are almost invariably square in form, slightly curved at the bottom. As a rule, on early plates the supporters hold the shield upright on a base which rises on each side, or occasionally on a mosaic platform, on the squares of which are emblazoned the principal charges of the shield. This latter decoration, although exceedingly rich in appearance, seems to have fallen rapidly into disuse after 1650. At first the metals and colours are irregularly emblazoned, next they are indicated by the initials of their names, and finally (after 1638) are shown on the present system, although, it must be admitted, that on early plates the tinctures cannot invariably be relied on. French engravers, having the love of beauty more strongly developed than the desire for strict heraldic accuracy, often introduced shading in such a manner as to make it difficult to discriminate between heraldic and non-heraldic lines in their work. Prior to 1638 it was not unusual to “trick” the arms, by placing on them the initials of their metals or colours, as “o.” for or, “ar.” for argent, “g.” for gueules, etc.; whereas soon after the publication of the “Tesseræ gentilitiæ” of Father Sylvestre Petra Sancta, it became the custom to employ dots and lines in conventional forms to indicate colours, metals, and furs in heraldic engravings, in the simple but effective manner which is still employed. Of the early plates, many are of large size, suitable for the folio volumes which then formed the bulk of all libraries. The ex-libris of Lyons are especially notable for their magnitude, as, for example, that of Claude Ruffier.
As in many cases designers’ or engravers’ signatures are found on plates which have no owners’ names, the use of the term anonymous, applied to such ex-libris, would have been ambiguous or misleading. I have, therefore, spoken of ownerless plates as nameless.
I have already alluded in the Introductory Chapter to the three most interesting dated French plates before 1650, namely: Caroli Albosii, 1574, of which a facsimile is here; Alexandre Bouchart, 1611, reproduced by M. Bouchot; and Melchior de la Vallée, 1613, which has been reproduced in both the “Archives de la Société Française” and the “Ex-Libris Journal.”
There is a fourth plate, dated 1644, yet to be described, and a few additional notes about the above will be given, as we reach them in their order.
First, there can be no doubt as to the authenticity of the label of Caroli Albosii, or Charles Ailleboust, Bishop of Autun, whose father had been doctor to Francis I., and died at Fontainebleau, in 1531.
Charles Ailleboust is described in the histories of the time as having been a handsome man, of courtly manners and great learning. He was educated for the Church, but he also obtained several court appointments, through the interest of his father’s many friends, and was procureur-général in the province of Lyons. He died in the town of Autun, on December 29, 1585, and was buried in the Church of Saint Jean-de-la-Grotte.
On his episcopal seal his arms are shown as a chevron between three trefoils within a bordure. No mention is made as to the extent or nature of the library left by this Bishop of Autun, but his ex-libris was found in a work printed in Lyons in 1566, entitled “Les secrets miracles de Nature.”
One of the most curious points about this remarkable label is that it exactly synchronizes with the earliest known dated British book-plate, namely, that of Nicholas Bacon. But for the solace of our national vanity it may be said that the latter is the more important of the two, being a coloured armorial woodcut.
Amongst the finest examples of plates before 1650 may be named the series of three, in different sizes, engraved for Jean Bigot, Sieur de Sommesnil (the head of a Norman family of famous book-lovers).
All three plates are nameless; the arms are irregularly emblazoned, whilst the helmet and supporters are drawn in such an antique style as to give the plates the appearance of even greater age than they possess. Possibly they may have been copied from some very old painting. Later on this Bigot has another suite of armorial book-plates engraved with his name, Johannes Bigot. In these the tinctures are indicated on the shield by their initial letters. As a collector his son Emeric was even more famous, and added greatly to the library he inherited from his father. He had three armorial ex-libris, one large, and two small, on which the tinctures are correctly shown, with the name, L. E. Bigot. These are all signed with a monogram formed of B and D entwined.
Emeric Bigot was born in 1626, so that it is possible that his plates were engraved a little later than 1650.
He was certainly the leading bibliophile of his day, at once the most cultivated and the most liberal in the acquisition of rare books. Contemporary writers mention his literary taste and his fine library, which at the time of his death contained about 40,000 volumes. These he left to a member of his family, Robert Bigot (who also had a book-plate), but eventually they were sold in Paris in 1706.
The following ex-libris have also been identified as belonging to this period, either by the names, the arms, the mottoes, or by the signatures of the artists affixed to them:
Charles de Lorraine, Evêque de Verdun (1592-1631). Fine armorial plate, without the owner’s name.
Alexandre Bouchart, Sieur de Blosseville. Engraved by Léonard Gaultier, dated 1611, and already described on page 12.
Melchior de la Vallée, dated 1613, an armorial plate of extreme rarity. The inscription reads thus: “Melchior a Valle protonotarius Insignis Ecclæ Sancti Georgi Naceis Cantor et Canonicus Henr II. D. Lotharin. et Barri eleemosinarius.” On account of its extreme rarity this ex-libris had long been the subject of doubt and curiosity to collectors, even Mons. Poulet-Malassis had not seen it, and blundered in his notes upon it.
At length Dr. Bouland gave a facsimile of it in the Archives de la Société Française for February, 1895.
The actual engraving measures exactly six inches by four, and in the lower portion the date (1613) is boldly engraved. Dr. Bouland, in his notes upon it, says that this facsimile is taken from the only original copy that is now known to exist, in the possession of Mons. Lucien Wiener, Curator of the Lorraine Museum in Nancy. One other example was discovered some time since, but was unfortunately destroyed in a fire. The design (which it may be said is more curious than beautiful) was at first attributed to Callot, but it is now believed to have been the work of Jacques Bellange, a painter and engraver, who was born in Nancy in 1594, and died about 1638, consequently he might well have produced work of this description in 1613. Melchior de la Vallée was an ecclesiastic, with a passion for collecting rare books and curiosities; unfortunately he incurred the displeasure of Charles IV., Duke of Lorraine, was accused of sorcery, and cruelly burnt alive in 1631.
Chanlecy. The nameless armorial plate of an ecclesiastic belonging to this Burgundian family, quartering the arms of Semur and Thiard.
Claude Sarrau. Armorial plate in two sizes; the larger one only is signed Briot, although it is probable the same artist, Isaac Briot, engraved both. The owner’s name does not appear on either plate. Claude Sarrau, councillor to the parliament of Paris, died in 1651. His correspondence with the savants of the day was edited and published by his son Isaac in 1654.
De Chaponay. Prévôt des Marchands de la Ville de Lyon in 1627. Two handsome armorial plates, quarto and octavo, without the owner’s name. The quarto plate has the arms of Chaponay imposed upon those of family connections; lions support the shield, which rests on a platform composed of a mosaic pattern of all the principal charges found on the various shields. This is a very fine decorative plate. Signed Joan Picart incidit.
“Ex Libris Alexandri Petavii in Francorum curia consiliarii. Pauli filii.” This is the fine armorial plate of Alexandre Petau, who inherited a splendid library from his father, Paul Petau, conseiller au parlement de Paris, born in 1568, died in 1613. On the death of Alexandre his manuscripts were purchased by Christina of Sweden, who bequeathed them to the Vatican. The printed books were sold at the Hague in 1722, along with those of Mansart, the famous architect. On the plate the shield rests on a mosaic platform, composed of the principal charges in alternate squares correctly tinctured. Motto: “Moribus antiquis.” This plate is reproduced by Poulet-Malassis.
Louis Brasdefer. In two sizes, each having the owner’s name. Arms surrounded by two branches of laurel; the tinctures are indicated by their initial letters.
Ex-libris of Guillaume Grangier. Guillelmus Grangierius. Faict à Nancy par J. Valdor. An armorial plate, with six lines of Latin verse. The artist, Jean Valdor, a Liègeois, was residing in Nancy in 1630, which approximately fixes the date of this plate; he afterwards went to Paris, where he was living in 1642.
Auzoles, Sieur de la Peyre, of a family of Auvergne, author of “La Sainte Chronologie” (1571-1642). A quarto armorial plate without owner’s name, but signed Picart ft. The shield hangs from the neck of a lion. Motto: “Sub zodiaco vales.” This plate is reproduced by Poulet-Malassis.
Brinon. Norman family. A nameless armorial plate.
Pierre Sarragoz, of Besançon. Armorial plate, without owner’s name, signed P. Deloysi sc. The plate contains a number of coats-of-arms, statues, and a bust of the Emperor Rodolf II., to whom the Sarragoz family, originally from Spain, owed their nobility. Pierre Sarragoz died October 14, 1649, according to his epitaph in the church of St. Maurice at Besançon.
Of engravings by Pierre Deloysi, of Besançon (called le vieux), few examples are known. He was a goldsmith, and engraved the coins issued in his native town.
De Regnouart. Armorial plate. Motto: “Age. Abstine. Sustine.”
Charreton. Armorial plate, name below shield.
Ex-libris of Roquelaire. Armorial plate, without owner’s name, signed L. Tiphaigne. The arms are surrounded by the collars of the orders of Saint Michael, and of the Holy Ghost.
Chassebras. Armorial plate, with the name on a ribbon.
Boussac, of Limousin. Armorial plate without owner’s name.
Antoine de Lamare, Seigneur de Chenevarin. An armorial plate with the inscription “Ex-libris Antonii de Lamare, D. de Cheneuarin.” This plate was found on the cover of a book having the signature Antoine de Lamare, and the date of its acquisition, 1629. A very interesting feature about it is that above the shield is printed (typographically) the blazon of the arms of Lamare, and of those of the families of Croisset and of Clercy, with whom he was connected.
Ex-libris des frères Sainte-Marthe. Armorial plate. Motto: “Patriæ fœlicia tempora nebunt.” Signed J. Picart sc.
Jean-Pierre de Montchal, Seigneur de la Grange. Armorial, without owner’s name. Motto: “Je lay gaignee.” The shield rests on mosaic work, on which the charges are repeated. In his “Traité des plus belles bibliothèques de l’Europe” (1680), Le Gallois mentions the library of De Montchal amongst those recently sold or dispersed.
Nicolas-Thomas de Saint André. A large plate without owner’s name. Motto: “Pietate fulcior.”
Scott, Marquis de la Mésangère, in Normandy. Armorial plate without the owner’s name.
Ex-libris de Garibal. Languedoc family. Name below shield.
Ex-libris de Berulle. Name below shield.
Bovet. Nameless. Armorial. Family of Dauphiné.
Bernard de Nogaret, duc d’Epernon. Large nameless armorial plate of handsome design. The shield surrounded by the collars of the orders of Saint Michael, and of the Holy Ghost. A very fine plate, probably the work of an Italian artist.
“Messire François de Varoquier. Chevallier de l’ordre du Roy son coner et maistre d’hostel ordre Tresorier de France Gnal des Finances et grand voier en la generalité de Paris.”
Motto: “Recta ubique sic et cor.”
Le Féron. Armorial plate without owner’s name. The principal charges are repeated on the mosaic pavement which supports the shield.
Le Puy du Fou. Two sizes, both without owner’s name. Armorial. Signed J. Picart. Poitou family.
Joannes Bardin, presbyter. Motto: “Hic ure, hic seca, modo parcas in æternum.” Two sizes, armorial.
Lesquen. An armorial plate without owner’s name. Motto: “VIN CEN TI.” Breton family.
Large nameless armorial. Signed Raigniauld, Riomi, 1644. See reduced reproduction.
Raigniauld, Riomi, 1644. The late Lord de Tabley, in his “Guide,” says: “This engraver signs and dates a fine, but coarsely executed, anonymous armorial plate. The shield is untinctured and quarterly; first, a star, on a chief, three trefoils slipped; second, a cross pattée; third, a wing; fourth, two bars, in base a wheel; over all an escutcheon charged with a fesse. Fine leaf-like, simple mantling to helmet. No crest. I have no further knowledge of the artist. The more modern French form of this surname is Regnault. Riomi is an old-fashioned town in Auvergne, just north of Clermont.” It is now spelt Riom.
This is the fourth dated plate (1574, 1611, 1613, 1644) before 1650, the next we meet with is that of André Felibien, dated 1650.
François de Malherbe (1555-1628). The poet had plates in two sizes, both armorial, and both probably engraved early in the seventeenth century, and with the tinctures incorrectly shown. Neither bears the owner’s name. Poulet-Malassis reproduces the larger plate.
Amy Lamy. A curious and exceptional plate, having the portrait of this unknown bibliophile, with the motto: “Usque ad aras,” and six lines of complimentary Latin verse.
A large nameless armorial book-plate (unknown), with the motto “In manus tuas Domine sortes mea,” signed J. de Courbes fecit, with several other plates which cannot be identified, complete the list of plates of this period mentioned by Poulet-Malassis. In most cases he gives details of the arms and crests which students who desire to be conversant with French heraldry may consult with advantage.
It will thus be seen that the proportion of book-plates which can be positively assigned to a date prior to 1650 is small. Omitting those which were produced in the provinces on the German frontier, or under the influence of foreign artists, it will be remarked that all the plates produced within the geographical limits of the France of that period were essentially heraldic in character, composed of emblazoned shields, with helmets, crests, mantling, and supporters, often surrounded by wreaths of laurel or palm branches, and frequently resting on handsome mosaic platforms, decorated with the principal charges of the shield. And so generally was the science of heraldry understood in those days, that on only about one-half of the plates was it deemed necessary to add the owner’s name to the shield displaying his arms.
In the reigns of Henri IV. and Louis XIII. book-plates were probably very uncommon, and the large size in which they were produced, for the massive folios then in vogue, has militated much against their preservation. They are, of all book-plates, the most eagerly sought for by collectors; they are rare, they have great artistic merit, and the heraldry is of the grandest and purest style ever known in France. Pierre d’Hozier compiled a list (which has never yet been published) of the names, titles, and arms of one hundred and twenty-five persons, who, living in 1631, were known as collectors and lovers of works on heraldry, history, and genealogy. This list was accompanied by drawings of the armorial bearings of each of the one hundred and twenty-five collectors (engraved by Magneney and J. Picart), the cream of the book-lovers of the day, la fine fleur des bibliophiles, all possessors of libraries, and it may also reasonably be supposed, all possessed of ex-libris.
Yet of all these Poulet-Malassis asserts that he has found but five whose plates are known at present, namely, those of Le Puy du Fou, Montchal, Auzoles de la Peyre, Jean Bigot, and the brothers Sainte-Marthe. Of the remaining one hundred and twenty no book-plates are known; that some amongst their number must have had them is reasonably certain. But where shall we find them, or shall we ever find them?
Mais où sont les neiges d’antan?
CHAPTER V.
EXAMPLES OF EX-LIBRIS. FROM 1650 TO 1700
Of this transition period the most interesting plates are those recording, in the one case a gift, in the other a legacy, of valuable books to the College of Jesuits, in Paris, in 1692.
These books had been collected by two of the most famous bibliophiles of the century, Pierre Daniel Huet, Evêque d’Avranches, and Gilles Ménage, Doyen de St. Pierre d’Angers. Bishop Huet chose to present his books during his lifetime (he survived the parting, and lived until 1721), and the gift was of great value, consisting as it did, of 8,312 volumes, besides many rare manuscripts.
The Jesuit fathers recorded their gratitude on ex-libris (in four sizes) of an appropriately rich character, carrying the arms of Bishop Huet. They went to less expense in showing their appreciation of the legacy of Ménage, perhaps because he was dead (he died July 23rd, 1692), or perhaps because he only left them about 2,000 volumes. Neither Bishop Huet nor Dean Ménage appears to have used an ex-libris, but the bindings of their books carried their arms stamped in gold on the covers. An account of the libraries of these famous collectors is given in “L’Armorial du Bibliophile.”
Between 1650 and 1700 the number of book-plates is not large, nor are they of any exceptional interest, beyond showing the gradual alteration in style. It will suffice to name a few of the finest examples.
Nicolas Martigny de Marsal, by Sebastien Le Clerc. Four sizes, two dated respectively 1655 and 1660.
Guillaume Tronson. Signed A. B. Flamen.
Hadriani de Valois, dom. de la Mare.
Jerôme Bignon, grand maitre de la Bibliothèque du Roi. A fine armorial plate, probably engraved by François Chauveau.
Leonor Le François Sr. de Rigawille. Motto: “Meliora sequentr,” dated 1673.
Charles Maurice Le Tellier, archevêque de Reims. Signed J. Blocquet, 1672.
Louis François du Bouchet, Marquis de Souches. Signed “Mavelot, graveur de Mademoiselle.”
Mgr. Pellot, Premier President du Parlmt de Normandie. Signed J. T., probably Jean Toustain, an engraver of Normandy.
This President Pellot possessed a valuable collection of Spanish and Italian books.
Guyet de la Sordière, a plate bearing the arms of several family alliances of la Sordière.
Charles, Marquis et Comte de Rostaing. Signed P. Nolin. This fine heraldic plate does not bear the name of its owner, but as it is exactly reproduced in the Armorial of Segoing, with the inscription “Armes d’Alliances de Messire Charles marquis et comte de Rostaing, gravées par son très humble serviteur Pierre Nolin, 1650,” we are enabled at once to identify the plate, and to fix its date.
Simon Chauuel, chevalier, Seigneur de la Pigeonnière, Conseiller du Roy, etc. Signed P. Nolin.
This book-plate is also reproduced in the Armorial of Segoing, which indeed contains about sixty copies of ex-libris copied by Nolin, either from his own works, or from other plates belonging to his customers, or engravings by his brother artists.
Denis Godefroy. Died in 1681. Ex-libris in two sizes, both armorial.
Potier de Novion. A nameless ex-libris, identified by the arms, and signed by Trudon. The only known book-plate signed by this artist, who yet engraved all the plates to illustrate his work entitled “Nouveau traité de la science pratique du blason,” published in 1689.
Jules-Hardouin Mansart, superintendent of buildings under Louis XIV. Signed Montulay Lenée. Heraldic plate, no name.
Jean-Nicolas de Tralage, a nephew of La Reynie, commandant of police. De Tralage presented his valuable collections to the Abbey of Saint Victor in 1698.
In many cases these plates have been identified only by the arms they carry. Ex-libris had not yet become truly fashionable amongst bibliophiles of the first rank, arms and devices being still generally stamped on the covers of their books, and the names of the owners were seldom considered necessary in a society where every person of any position was compelled to understand heraldry, and to be acquainted with the armorial bearings of the principal families.
The men of letters of the seventeenth century were not apparently inclined to adopt ex-libris, comparatively few have been found; those of Malherbe (who was, however, a nobleman and a courtier as well as an author), the historiographer, André Félibien; Jerôme Bignon, who was chief librarian in the Royal Library; Denis Godefroy, the historian, have been named, and the collectors, Ménage and Bishop Huet; yet these latter scarcely count, for the plates bearing their names and arms were only engraved to place in the books they had generously presented to the Jesuit fathers.
We seek in vain for the ex-libris of Corneille, Molière, or Racine, Boileau, La Fontaine, La Bruyère, for hitherto none have been discovered. In 1684 Madame de Sévigné wrote: “J’approuve fort de ne mettre autour de mon chiffre que Madame de Sévigné. Il n’en faut pas davantage: on ne me confondra point pendant ma vie et c’est assez.”
CHAPTER VI.
EXAMPLES OF EX-LIBRIS. From 1700 TO 1789.
Helmet, wreath, and mantling disappear, whilst the shield and coronet no longer face one boldly and squarely, but appear in fantastic perspective; the supporters assume attitudes never before contemplated in heraldry—under or over the shield, or playing at hide and seek behind the shield. Cupids, angels, cherubim, and mythological deities lend their aid, and a background of clouds, with or without rainbows, completes the curious fashion in vogue about 1750, which lasted, with some modifications, down to the time of the Revolution.
As time creeps slowly forward dated plates become more fashionable, and the owners’ names are more generally inserted. Indeed, French vanity begins to assert itself in lengthy inscriptions setting forth the high-sounding titles, distinctions, and offices held by the owners of these elaborate armorial book-plates.
The plate of the Abbé de Gricourt shows us that he considered the terrestrial globe unworthy to bear his coat-of-arms, which is therefore being carried away to its home in paradise by a swarm of little angels singing psalms in his praise, and weaving garlands of flowers to crown his achievement. This ambitious plate is signed by A. T. Cys (Adrien Théry, à Cisoing), who was a brother of the Abbé de Gricourt.
The plates of this later period are, for the most part, affected, pompous, and even ridiculous in their assumptions. Shields in impossible attitudes, either resting on nothing, or falling over the supporters. These, in their turn, no longer perform their ancient duties seriously, but lounge about, lie asleep at their posts, or yawn with ennui at having to take a part in such a farce as heraldry in France had now become. As for the few plates of this period which preserve the ancient regularity of form and correct heraldic drawing, these usually belong to the families most entitled to bear arms, yet they look archaic and formal beside their more ornate brethren.
The plates which have been reproduced to illustrate this period, 1700 to 1789, have been selected principally to show the varying styles in fashion in each decade, until we reach a date when French society is rudely convulsed by political events.
Three scarce plates are those of Louis XV., of Madame Victoire de France, and of the Bastille. That of Louis XV. is a fine plate for folio size, designed by A. Dieu and engraved by L. Audran. It has a monogram of double L on a shield, which is surrounded by trophies, and surmounted by the royal crown.
The plates for Madame Victoire de France (daughter of Louis XV.) and for the Château de la Bastille bear the French royal arms—azure, three fleurs-de-lys or.
Apart from heraldry, we have now reached the period when purely artistic and decorative ex-libris commence to show themselves, and when artists such as Ferrand, Beaumont, F. Montulay, L. Monnier, Nicole and Collin, both of Nancy, J. Traiteur, de la Gardette, Berthault, L. Choffard, Le Roy, Cochin, Gravelot, Marillier, Moreau le jeune, Pierre St.-Aubin, and Gaucher, put some of their best work into these little copper plates.
Even Boucher condescended to engrave a few plates, of which, however, but three are known, and one only is signed.
With the multiplication of books in the eighteenth century came a proportionate decrease in their intrinsic value. With the exception of an occasional édition de luxe, or of books scarce only because they ought never to have existed at all, lovers of artistic bookbinding found their hobby almost useless.
Why spend pounds to bind a book which cost but a few shillings? Why put costly clothing on a child having 999 brothers, all so exactly similar that the father and mother, author and printer, could not discriminate between them? As the book was bought so it generally remained, or, as an especial honour, it might perhaps be put into half calf.
Exit whole morocco, with arms elaborately emblazoned on the sides, and monograms in dainty tooling on the back.
Enter modern book-plate.
Under the Bourbon Kings the government of France was an absolute monarchy tempered by epigrams, and regulated chiefly by priests, soldiers, and the ladies of the Court. The system was vicious and corrupt, but very simple, and eminently satisfactory to the privileged classes. It ruined France, but, whilst it lasted, the kings and their mistresses, the nobility, and the clergy, enjoyed most of the pleasures, and all the vices, this life could afford.
Of the military men who acquired power few appear to have indulged in literary tastes, or to have formed libraries. Many handsome ex-libris exist, carrying warlike trophies,—cannons, drums, tents, and flags,—such, for instance, as that of Claude Martin, but few indeed of these plates bear the names of any of the more famous French commanders. Even the plate of Murat (of later date) is doubtful, for what time had le beau sabreur for books?
Of the famous Court beauties who held influence over the kings, some possessed, and others affected, a taste for books, and volumes from their collections are eagerly sought for, partly for their associations, and partly on account of the elegance of their bindings. To name three or four of the most beautiful and most famous of these fair bibliophiles will suffice. First comes Diane de Poitiers, whose monogram, interlaced with that of her royal lover, Henri II., is to be found (along with the crescent of the chaste goddess Diana) on many books exquisitely bound by Le Faucheux.
The Marquise de Maintenon, widow of the deformed jester Scarron, who became the wife, if not the queen, of Louis XIV., was a woman of great tact and intelligence. She formed a valuable library; her books were handsomely bound, and stamped with her arms,—a lion rampant between two palm leaves.
The Marquise de Pompadour, whose books (principally dedicated to the menus plaisirs du Roi, like their owner) were bound by Biziaux, Derome, or Padeloup, and decorated with her arms,—azure, three towers argent. Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson was born the daughter of a butcher in 1722, but was created the Marquise de Pompadour, and, what is more singular, a “dame du palais de la Reine” by Louis XV. But she was beautiful exceedingly, and clever, and even Voltaire himself could not resist flattering her:
“Pompadour, ton crayon divin
Devait dessiner ton visage,
Jamais une plus belle main
N’eût fait un plus bel ouvrage.”
Was it her death from small-pox that suggested to Zola that awful closing chapter in “Nana”?
A book-plate was engraved for her, anonymous, but having the above-named arms; it does not appear, however, to have been fixed in her books. La Pompadour died in 1764, and her books were sold in Paris in the following year.
“But where is the Pompadour now?
This was the Pompadour’s fan!”
Next comes the plate of Madame Jeanne-Gomart de Vaubernier, Comtesse Du Barry (born at Vaucouleurs in 1743), the last favourite of Louis XV., who, less fortunate than her rival, la Pompadour, survived her royal protector, nay, even royalty itself, and died on the scaffold in December, 1793. Ignorant as she was, she formed a small but valuable collection, her books being bound in red morocco, all richly gilt, and ornamented on the sides with her arms, and her motto, Boutez en avant. Redan was one of her binders. Louis XV. remarked, “La Pompadour had more books than the countess, but they were neither so well chosen nor so well bound, we therefore create her Bibliothécaire de Versailles.”
Poor Du Barry! She could scarcely read, and could not spell; her books were selected to dispel the ennui and divert the mind of the debauched old king in the last few years of his shameful life. Yet is she worthy of mention here, if for one thing only, she possessed a book-plate engraved by Le Grand, of which, however, she made but little use.
But Louis le Bien-aimé died of small-pox in 1774, and henceforward the Du Barry fades from sight for nearly twenty years, until we see her once again, on the way to the guillotine, where, unlike most of the aristocrats who preceded her, she lost courage, and vainly shrieked for mercy from those who knew not what it was.
“Unclean, yet unmalignant, not unpitiable thing! What a course was thine: from that first truckle-bed where thy mother bore thee, with tears, to an unnamed father: forward, through lowest subterranean depths, and over highest sunlit heights, of Harlotdom and Rascaldom—to the guillotine-axe, which shears away thy vainly whimpering head!” Thus does Carlyle epitomize her career.
Louis XV. was known as le Bien-aimé, but years before his death his name had lost all the influence it had ever possessed, and
“Le Bien-aimé de l’Almanac,
N’est pas le Bien-aimé de France,
Il fait tout ab hoc, et ab hac,
Le Bien-aimé de l’Almanac.
Il met tout dans le même sac,
Et la Justice et la Finance:
Le Bien-aimé de l’Almanac,
N’est pas le Bien-aimé de France.”
It was computed that during his reign 150,000 men had been imprisoned in the Bastille, whose crimes, real or imaginary, had never been investigated in any court of justice.
They were torn without warning from liberty and friends to languish for years in dark loathsome dungeons, without even knowing of what offences they were accused, nor for what period they would be imprisoned.
A simple Lettre de Cachet was all that was required, which it was by no means difficult for a king’s mistress, minister, or favourite to obtain.
Lettre de Cachet.
Monsieur le Gouverneur, envoyant en mon château de la Bastille le sieur N——, je vous fais cette lettre pour vous dire que mon intention est que vous ayez à l’y recevoir et retenir en toute seûreté, jusques à nouvel ordre de moy. Et la présente n’estant pour autre fin, je prie Dieu qu’il vous ait, Monsieur le Gouverneur, en sa sainte garde.
Ecrit à —— le —— de l’an ——.
Signature du Roi.
Once issued, this condemned a man to perpetual imprisonment, unless by some happy chance some one could prevail on the king to sign the following Ordre de mise en Liberté: “Monsieur le Gouverneur, ayant bien voulu accorder la liberté au sieur N—— détenu par mes ordres en mon château de la Bastille, je vous fais cette lettre pour vous dire que mon intention est qu’aussitôt qu’elle vous aura été remise, vous aiez à faire mettre le dit sieur N—— en pleine et entière liberté. Et la présente n’estant pour autre fin, je prie Dieu qu’il vous ait, Monsieur le Gouverneur, en sa sainte garde.
Ecrit à —— le —— de l’an ——.
Signature du Roi.
Many prisoners became lunatics, others died there whose friends never knew their fate, for a man’s name and individuality were lost when once he passed the gates.
Those who regained their liberty were sworn to secrecy concerning all that they had seen or heard in the Bastille: “Etant en liberté, je promets, conformément aux ordres du Roi, de ne parler à qui que ce soit, d’aucune manière que ce puisse être, des prisonniers ni autre chose concernant le château de la Bastille, qui auraient pu parvenir à ma connaissance.”
As a rule this oath was observed, the dread of another incarceration being sufficient to inculcate the wisdom of silence, the well-known memoirs of Linguet being an exception.
Under Louis XVI., committals were less numerous, and when the Marquis de Launay surrendered the Bastille to the Parisian revolutionaries in July, 1789, only seven prisoners were found in it, although it must be remembered that the governor, recognizing the possibility of an attack, had sent away some of the most important prisoners to Vincennes. If he had had the forethought at the same time to have caused the Bastille to be well supplied with provisions he, with his small garrison of 114 men, might have held out for an almost indefinite period against the attacks of the half-armed, undisciplined Parisian mob.
As it was, the Marquis behaved during a trying time as a brave soldier and a humane gentleman. At length, but only when his scanty provisions were exhausted, he yielded up the castle on condition that the lives of the garrison should be spared. But the inrushing crowd cared nothing for conditions, nor for the rules of civilized warfare, and in a few minutes nearly every man was killed. De Launay himself was aimlessly dragged about for some time, then killed, and his head paraded on a pike round the streets of Paris.
The Bastille itself was demolished by the people, the place where it stood alone preserves its name, and the stones which once formed its melancholy walls are now trodden under foot by the countless myriads who pass over the Pont de la Concorde.
Most of the books found in the prison were destroyed, but a few escaped, and these contained the ex-libris of the Château Royal de la Bastille, certainly one of the scarcest and most interesting in the world.
The accession of Louis XVI. gave rise to great hopes for the regeneration of France, retrenchment in her finances, and reformation in the morals of her court.
The king was young, married to a beautiful and virtuous princess, and was himself credited with the domestic virtues of chastity and sobriety. Indeed, as a master locksmith he might no doubt have earned a comfortable livelihood, for in that occupation, if in no other, he displayed considerable skill and dexterity.
The French have always had a knack of affixing very humorous and catching nicknames to their kings and public men; they might appropriately have christened their new king Louis Trop-tard. He was always Lewis the Too-Late; he was born too late, he resisted the wishes of his people till it was too late; he made concessions when they were too late to conciliate anyone; he practised economy when it only brought him into ridicule; too late he fled from Paris; drank Burgundy, and ate bread and cheese at Varennes until it was too late to escape across the frontier, and finally he died when his death was too late to save his good name, his family, or the monarchy.
He lacked decision of character, and clearness of purpose or perception. He was incapable of reading the signs of the times, or of reforming the vicious system of government he had inherited from his forefathers. So he, who was in many respects the best of the later Bourbons, had to pay the penalty for the crimes, the cruelty, and the follies of his ancestors.
In the best period of French heraldry, supporters were less frequently found than in British heraldry, and it was a rule, or a tradition, that, as marking the divine right of kings, only members of the royal family of France should carry angels as supporters. They were, however, assumed by the illegitimate descendants of the kings, who carried the royal arms with the usual differences.
CHAPTER VII.
THE FIRST REPUBLIC.
For the antiquary, the prints produced in France before the Revolution must ever possess the greatest interest, indicating as they do so clearly the tastes, the vanity, the luxury of that beau monde which was the France of those days when the lower orders counted for nothing, being but the hewers of wood, the drawers of water, and the chair-à-canon with which her kings and marshals won glory.
No attempt was made to hide the corruption and immorality which prevailed at Court—the amours of the kings were openly acknowledged, the highest titles were bestowed upon their mistresses, and the royal arms of France were borne by their almost innumerable offspring.
Although some of these women were of the humblest origin they affected a taste for literature and art, and the names of Diane de Poitiers, duchesse de Valentinois; Gabrielle d’Estrées; Marie Touchet; la Duchesse de la Vallière; la Marquise de Maintenon; Madame de Montespan; la Marquise de Pompadour; la Comtesse du Barry, with many others of lesser note, remind us that they formed extensive libraries. Books bearing their arms and ciphers on the bindings, or their book-plates, are still those most eagerly sought for by collectors of to-day. But what a bagatelle was all this as compared with the vast sums these courtesans drained from the nation, and the degradation they inflicted upon the aristocracy into whose ranks they and their children were elevated. Whilst on the other hand, the arrogance of the old nobility, their selfishness, their cruelty to their dependants, and their refusal to forego any of their pay or privileges in the black days of famine and national bankruptcy towards the close of the eighteenth century, hastened their fall and that of the monarchy.
Sir Walter Scott states that at the outbreak of the Revolution there were about eighty thousand families enjoying all the rights and privileges of nobility; and the order was divided into different classes, which looked on each other with mutual jealousy and contempt.
On this point let us quote the reports of two acknowledged authorities. M. de Saint-Allais, in his book “L’Ancienne France,” observes: “Nos historiens les plus accrédités ont remarqué qu’il existait en France, avant la Révolution, environ soixante dix mille fiefs, ou arrière-fiefs dont a peu près 3,000 étaient érigés en duchés, marquisats, comtés, vicomtés et baronies, et qu’ils comptaient aussi en ce royaume environ 4,000 families d’ancienne noblesse, c’est-à-dire de noblesse chevaleresque et immémoriale, et environ 90,000 familles qui avaient acquis la noblesse par l’exercice de charges de magistrature et de finances ou par le service militaire ou par des anoblissements quelconques.” Whilst in his “Nobles et Vilains,” M. Chassant states: “Il y avait en France, en 1788, au moins 8,000 marquis, comtes, et barons, dont 2,000 au plus l’étaient légitimement, 4,000 bien dignes de l’être, mais qui ne l’étaient que par tolérance abusive.”
From these statements it is evident that the number of nobles, or soi-disant nobles, was enormous; that their privileges (many of them grossly immoral) caused them to be extremely unpopular; that to keep up some kind of state and show made them exacting as landlords, whilst the etiquette of their rank prevented them from embarking in any kind of trade or business, so that employments in the Court, the Church, the Army, Law and the Civil Service, were almost entirely monopolized by this class. These offices, though highly paid, were, of course, totally unproductive, and created still further burdens to fall on the shoulders of the overtaxed lower orders.
Nor were the nobles themselves altogether to be envied—many of them were miserably poor, and were yet compelled to support the dignity of their rank, and to appear in state at a court, at once the most splendid and most improvident in the world.
They had not the resources possessed by the poorer scions of the British nobility, who are free now to act as directors of public companies, stock-brokers, wine merchants, or railway managers; who may own collieries, or hansom cabs, or breed cattle without loss of caste or privilege.
As to the king, Louis XVI., he was a man of no decision of character, incapable of reading the signs of the times, or of realizing that the future of the monarchy, of France itself, depended on the reforms required in the State. So little did he appreciate the serious position that when, in 1788, his ministers were discussing where the Etats Generaux (nobles, clergy, and tiers états) should assemble in the following May, Louis suddenly cut short all their arguments by exclaiming that they could only meet at Versailles because of the hunting (à cause des chasses).
“C’était bien de chasser qu’alors il s’agissait.”
At length the storm, which had long been foreseen, burst over their heads, and in less than two years a decree was proposed (on June 20th, 1790) by Lameth, that the titles of duke, count, marquis, viscount, baron, and chevalier should be suppressed. This was carried by a large majority in the French Assembly, and all armorial bearings were abolished at the same time.
When all around was in a state of turmoil and revolution, armorial book-plates became dangerous to their owners. Many were torn out and destroyed, others were altered and adapted to the feelings of the time by changing high-sounding titles into the simple style of a French citizen.
The ex-libris of the Citizen Boyveau-Laffecteur may be cited as an example. Before the Revolution he used an allegorical plate on which was shown a young calf drinking at a fountain (Boyveau); on his shield he carried a stork, as an emblem of prudence and wisdom, and the whole was surmounted by the handsome coronet of a count. Now, Monsieur Boyveau-Laffecteur was a doctor of medicine, and the inventor of useful medical receipts, but whether he ever was a count, or entitled to carry the coronet of one, is more than doubtful. These are minor details, however, for when the Doctor found that coronets, and the heads that wore them, were going strangely out of fashion, he effaced the obnoxious emblem of nobility, placing in its stead an enormous and aggressively prominent cap of liberty. This altered plate is found less frequently than the former; it may be that on the restoration of the monarchy he replaced the coronet, and re-elected himself a count.
Another altered plate is rather less striking in its political inconsistency: “De la Bibliothèque de Nic. Franc. Jos. Richard, avocat en Parlement, Président à St. Diez.” Simple and inoffensive as was this label, the owner thought it safer during the Revolution to cover it with another, thus: “De la Bibliothèque de Nicholas François-Joseph Richard, Citoyen de St. Dié.”
But a far more interesting souvenir of the Reign of Terror is the second book-plate of the Vicomte de Bourbon Busset.
The first, which is signed “Fme. Jourdan sculp., 1788,” shows his armorial bearings surmounted by his coronet, whilst beneath are enumerated his titles and offices.
Over this plate is generally found pasted a much simpler design, showing how that the grand noble of 1788 under the monarchy had, in 1793, become plain Bourbon Busset, a French citizen.
Now the Vicomte de Bourbon Busset was an aristocrat (even if an illegitimate one), for on his first book-plate he bore the royal arms of France, (debruised by a baton), with the cross of Jerusalem in chief, and his two supporters the angels hitherto carried only by members of the royal family. Yet he managed to escape the horrors of the revolutionary period, and survived the Reign of Terror, probably by studying the signs of the times, and by casting his lot in with the sans-culottes. In any case, he lived in Paris until the 9th of February, 1802. The bindings on his books were stamped with the arms, as on his book-plate, but without the supporters.
His library was sold in Paris; the catalogue was headed, “Catalogue des livres de la bibliothèque de feu le citoyen Bourbon Busset, 20, nivose an XI.”
Another curious souvenir of the reverses sustained during the revolutionary period exists in the plate of “André Gaspard Parfait, Comte de Bizemont-Prunelé”. Dessiné et gravé par Ch. Gaucher, de l’Acad. des Arts de Londres, 1781.
In the same year the Comte de Bizemont-Prunelé etched an ex-libris for his wife, Marie Catherine d’Hallot, with a design of a somewhat remarkable nature considering the period. He represented himself amongst some ruins carving their arms on a pedestal. Thirteen years later we find this nobleman, a refugee in England, earning his living as a drawing master. His business card, of ornamental design, bears the words: “M. Bizemont, Drawing Master, No. 19 Norton Street, near Portland Street. Bizemont Sc. London, 1794.”
Alexis Foissey, of Dunkirk, removed the coronet from his ex-libris to make way for “Equality”; P. M. Gillet, deputy from Morbihan, adopted the cap of liberty, with the motto, “Liberté, Egalité”; and J. B. Michaud, on his plate, dated 1791, also has the Phrygian cap, with a ribbon inscribed, “La Liberté ou la Mort.”
Above is the book-plate of Thomas Papillon, Esq., evidently engraved in England within the last century, bearing on the first and fourth quarters the canting arms of the old French family of Papillon (Butterfly).
The last Papillon of whom we read in French history was one Denis-Pierre-Jean Papillon de la Ferté, intendant des Menus-plaisirs du Roi, who was born in 1727, and guillotined on the 7th of July, 1794, by the Republicans. Probably Thomas Papillon was a relative who managed to escape, or one of his descendants, as the arms are very similar, being thus blazoned by Guigard: D’azur, au chevron d’argent accompagné en chef de 2 Papillons d’or, et en pointe d’un coq hardi du même. The last charge being the only dissimilarity.
A short time since, a collector in Paris purchased a cover on which was a small mean-looking, printed book-label, under which showed the edges of another. On putting the cover to soak no less than three plates were found, the lowest one being as follows; an armorial plate, below the shield “Bibliothèque de Mr. de Villiers du Terrage, Pr. Commis des Finances.” This plate, signed Branche, had been covered during the revolutionary period by a simple typographical label, reading “Bibliothèque du Citoyen Marc-Etienne Villiers,” omitting all titles, and heraldic decorations, substituting the word “citoyen” in their place, and the whole surrounded by plain border lines.
Later on the book passed into other hands, and a still more humble plate was placed upon it, a small label having only the words “Bibliothèque Le Cauchoix Ferraud.” This democratic individual, who suppressed even the word “citoyen” on his label, does not live in history, nor would he have been mentioned here but that his poor little ticket probably saved two interesting plates from destruction.
“Ex libris Rihan de la Forest” with arms and coronet; then over that was a plain label with the simple inscription, “Ex libris la Forest”; that again covered by a lugubrious-looking plate, “Ex libris la Forest,” surmounted by a cap of liberty, on a pike, and “La liberté ou la mort” printed around it.
To these many others may be added, such as the ex-libris of “Le Prince de Beaufond,” which was altered to “Charles-Louis Le-prince,” and the elaborate heraldic book-plate of the Marquis de Fortia, which was covered by a simple printed label: “Ce livre fait partie de la bibliothèque de M. de Fortia d’Urban, demeurant à Paris, rue de la Rochefoucaud (sic), No. 21, division du Mont Blanc.”
M. Pigou covered his arms and coronet of a Marquis with a plain label in which the name Pigou was surrounded by a garland of roses.
But in those troubled times most men of any position had far more serious topics to occupy their minds than the planning of ex-libris for their books, and indeed the poor heraldic engravers found their business coming to an end, and one of them, M. Crussaire, finding himself without work, advertised that he would gladly execute “tout espèce de sujets sérieux ou agréables relatifs aux diverses circonstances de la Révolution, pour boites, bon-bonnières, boutons, medaillons.”
One of the last ex-libris belonging to the period of the First Republic, and carrying republican emblems, is that bearing the name of Adjudant Général Villatte, who was promoted to that rank on February 5, 1799. His plate bears the Roman fasces surmounted by the cap of liberty, and, oddly enough for a military man, a shepherd’s crook and hat, whilst two doves, or pigeons, complete this incongruous design.
From 1789 to the coronation of Napoleon I. as Emperor in 1804, the use of book-plates was considerably restricted.
Pauline Burghese, a sister of Napoleon, rose superior to heraldic or titular pretensions. She was a sister of Napoleon, that was enough, and her gift book-plate, dated 1825, is but a plain little label:
EX LEGATO
Sororis Napoleonis
Paullinæ Burghesiæ
A.D. MDCCCXXV.
Charles Ambroise Caffarelli, whose plate is in what has been called le style panaché de l’Empire, was Canon of Toul in 1789, but took the oath to the Constitution on the outbreak of the Revolution. He suffered imprisonment in 1793, gained favour under Napoleon, who created him a préfet. He afterwards devoted himself to the study of political economy, and died in 1826 (after seeing many changes of government), under the rule of the Bourbons, his first patrons.
Jean Baptiste Jourdan, who was one of the most famous marshals of Napoleon’s army, began life as a private soldier; under the First Republic he obtained promotion, and swore that his sword should always be drawn in defence of the rights of the people, and against all kings. Yet he afterwards accepted titles and honours from Napoleon, whom he deserted to serve under Louis XVIII., and issued a manifesto to his soldiers asking their fidelity to the restored Bourbons. For this he was rewarded by being created a Chevalier of the Royal and Military Order of St. Louis. When Napoleon returned to Paris from Elba the Maréchal Jourdan was again ready to do him service, and his fidelity was rewarded by an imperial decree dated 4 June, 1815, creating him a Count and Peer of France. Jourdan was born at Limoges in 1762; he died in 1833.
The Baron de Marbot was one of the soldiers ennobled by Napoleon I. He left some memoirs which have points of resemblance to those written by the more celebrated Baron Münchausen.