THE FIRST EMPIRE.
The short and troubled reign of the Emperor Napoleon left little lasting impression upon the heraldry of France. It is true he introduced some system, and a few innovations, but at the Restoration his innovations were rescinded, and with the Bourbons in power it need hardly be said that no kind of useful system could long exist.
For the heraldry of the First Empire a student cannot do better than consult the fine folios entitled “Armorial Général de l’Empire Français. Contenant les Armes de sa Majesté l’Empereur et Roi, des Princes de sa famille, des Grands Dignitaires, Princes, Ducs, Comtes, Barons, Chevaliers, et celles des Villes de 1ere 2me et 3me Classe, avec les planches des Ornemens exterieurs, des Signes intérieurs et l’explication des Couleurs et des Figures du Blason, pour faciliter l’Etude de cette Science. Présenté à sa Majesté l’Empereur et Roi par Henry Simon, Graveur du Cabinet de sa Majesté l’Empereur et Roi, et du Conseil du Sceau des Titres. Chez l’Auteur, Palais Royal, No. 29 à Paris. MDCCCXII.” The title-page is quoted in full; it is a curiosity in its way, the whole being beautifully engraved on a plate measuring 11½ inches by 8½ inches; all the other plates are of the same size and many hundreds of armorial bearings are accurately engraved and described. The work is a monument of patience and skill, and serves as a record of many princes, nobles, marshals, and generals, whose names and deeds were, during the Napoleonic period, as familiar as household words, but the majority of whom are now almost forgotten.
Napoleon decreed that order should exist in heraldry, as in every other branch of the State. His favourite artist, David, was called in to assist in devising new decorations, head-dresses, etc. The curious head-dress, invented by David to replace coronets, is called in French heraldry “une toque;” this somewhat resembles a flat Tam O’Shanter cap, slightly elevated in front, and, though no longer used, its varieties must be described, as it often occurs on book-plates of the period.
Princes carried a toque of black velvet, with a band around the brim of vair. In front a golden aigrette supported seven ostrich feathers.
Dukes wore the same, simply replacing the band vair by a band ermine.
Counts carried a toque of black velvet, with a band ermine. An aigrette, gold and silver, supported five feathers.
Barons wore the toque with a band counter vair. A silver aigrette supported three feathers.
These were further subdivided and distinguished, so as to show whether the rank was senatorial, military, ecclesiastical, or civil.
Chevaliers carried a black velvet toque with a green band. A silver aigrette with one upright feather.
Further, there were grants of arms for Préfets, Sous-Préfets, and Maires of towns, whilst the towns themselves were divided into classes, each class having on a chief, or a canton, a distinctive badge.
Thus, cities of the first order, such as Amsterdam, Antwerp, Bordeaux, Brussels, Ghent, Geneva, Hamburg, Lyons, Lille, Liège, Montauban, and Paris, bore three golden bees (the Napoleonic badge) on a chief gules, in addition to the arms of the cities here cited, whose names recall the extent of territory over which at one time Napoleon held sway.
Second class towns bore a golden N on a dexter canton azure; and third class towns had a sinister canton gules, on which was a silver N.
Quite recently the French Government conferred the Cross of the Legion of Honour on the town of Belfort, and on Rambervillers, a small place in the Vosges Mountains, as a recognition of the gallant resistance they offered to the Germans in 1870 and 1871. Belfort surrendered only under orders from the French Government, the peace armistice having been concluded. Its garrison left with the honours of war, and, although part of Alsace, it was left to France on account of the indomitable courage of Colonel Denfert-Rochereau (a Protestant of Rochelle), of the garrison, and also of the townspeople, who allowed their houses to be battered to pieces without once speaking of capitulation. The town of Châteaudun was “decorated” with the Legion of Honour by Gambetta, having signalized itself by its resistance to the invader, followed by reprisals. Two or three other towns were decorated with the National Order of Knighthood by Napoleon I. in 1815 for heroic resistance to the Allies in 1814. Altogether nine towns in France have the Cross of the Legion of Honour on their coats-of-arms.
Another feature in Napoleonic heraldry was the revival of an ancient ordinary, entitled champagne, occupying a third of the shield in base; it frequently occurs in arms granted under the Empire, but is now obsolete. In fact, on the restoration of Louis XVIII., an ordinance was issued abolishing all the innovations introduced by Napoleon, some of which deserved a better fate.
One of the most delightful traits in the character of the French people is their readiness to laugh at their own little national failings, their vanity, their volatility, and their political instability.
This power to see and appreciate the humorous side of events was never better shown than in a work entitled “Dictionnaire des Girouettes ou nos contemporains peints d’après eux-mêmes,” published in Paris, anonymously, but ascribed to the Comte de Proisy d’Eppe.
This little book is at once one of the most comical and one of the saddest ever written, being a kind of biographical dictionary of the political turncoats of the period embraced between the years 1790 and 1815. It contains notices of all the leading Frenchmen of the day, with extracts from their political writings and speeches, more especially those containing allusions, complimentary or the reverse, to the heads of the Government. Now, when we consider that during that quarter of a century France experienced a number of sudden and violent changes in her political constitution, going from the extreme of absolute Monarchy to the utmost licence of Republican liberty, it will easily be recognized that this book contains instances of the most astounding weakness of character and political vacillation ever chronicled.
Starting from 1790, when the Government was Royalist, indeed an absolute Monarchy, in 1792 it became Republican, under the Convention, and later, in 1795, under le Directoire.
1799. The Consulate. Napoleon First Consul.
1804. Imperial. Napoleon Emperor.
1814. Royalist again. Restoration of the Bourbon dynasty, Louis XVIII.
1815. The Hundred Days. Flight of the Bourbons, restoration of Napoleon.
1815, July. Deposition of Napoleon; return of Louis XVIII.
Each of these changes, as it occurred, was hailed with rapturous applause, and with that form of gratitude which consists in a lively sense of favours to come.
Now, as this dictionary contains the names of nearly all the eminent Frenchmen of the period, it follows that there are many in it whose book-plates are of interest, concerning whom a few extracts may be given, taken from the second and enlarged edition, published in Paris in 1815. No month is named, but evidently it appeared soon after the final downfall of Napoleon, as it mentions the marriage of the Turncoat Fouché, Minister of Police, in July, 1815, and that the king (Louis XVIII.) signed the marriage contract.
The two plates here introduced (they belonged to Turncoats) show the stiff and formal heraldry of the Empire, and the characteristic toque.
The De Portalis family were rich bankers at Neufchatel in the time of the first Napoleon. This particular member of the family married a Dame d’honneur of the Empress Josephine, and was created a count of the Empire, and an officer of the Légion d’Honneur, as is shown by the title and star on his book-plate.
He was associated with the Casimir-Periers in founding the Bank of France, and died enormously wealthy.
His name occurs in the Dictionnaire des Girouettes, but without any special circumstances; he simply accepted favours and titles from whatever hand they came, royal or imperial, with equal condescension.
Now the plate of Ch. Amb. Caffarelli, given on page 121, is a little puzzling; it is evidently of the First Empire period, and bears the toque of a Baron; whilst the second quarter on the shield shows the arms assigned in Napoleonic heraldry to a Préfet, namely: “De gueules à la muraille crénelée d’argent, surmontée d’une branche de chêne du même.” Armorial Général de l’Empire Français, 1812.
In the Dictionnaire des Girouettes mention is made of a Caffarelli (no Christian name) who was created a Count of the Empire, and Grand Eagle of the Légion d’Honneur by Napoleon. The king afterwards created him Chevalier of the Order of St Louis, and Commandant at Rennes; whilst in 1815 he again reverted to the service of the Emperor. There was also a Baron Caffarelli who bore similar arms, but he was Bishop of Saint Brieux, whilst on this plate no ecclesiastical emblems are shown. He, too, was a member of the Légion d’Honneur.
To which of these two this plate belonged I cannot decide, nor is the matter of the first importance.
One plate may be named which forms an exception to the monotonous regularity of the heraldic style under the First Empire; it is that of Antoine-Pierre-Augustin de Piis, a dramatist. His monogram hangs on a palm tree, each branch of which bears the name of some well-known singer,—Panard, Favart, Collé, etc., whilst beneath are the titles of the vaudevilles he had himself written. Another artistic little plate of this period is that of M. Dubuisson, dated 1805, on page 130.
Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, younger brother of Napoleon, resided some time in England, but died at Viterbo in 1840. His son, Charles, Prince of Canino, distinguished as a naturalist, died in 1857, and it is not easy to decide to which of the two this quiet, unpretentious little Canino plate belonged.
The books of the first Napoleon were sumptuously bound, but he used no book-plate. Monsieur L. Joly, in his Ex-Libris Imaginaires, furnishes one such as might well have been used by the great soldier and law-maker. An imperial eagle casts a thunder-bolt, which illuminates the peaks of the Alps; below are seen the emblems of war, the owl, symbolic of wisdom, the Cross of the Légion d’Honneur, and the books of the Code Napoléon.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RESTORATION, AND LOUIS PHILIPPE.
He had learnt nothing and forgotten nothing during his exile, and notwithstanding the strong advice of the Powers who had set him up in business as a monarch, he encouraged a steady reaction against the improvements that had been so liberally encouraged in the State by Napoleon and his ministers.
The French nation had but little loyalty or affection for this gouty, gluttonous, fat old man, but they ridiculed him, and bore with him, till his death in 1824.
His brother, the Comte d’Artois, who succeeded him as Charles X., a narrow-minded, obstinate, and priest-ridden man, persevered in the same course as Louis XVIII., and was even more unpopular.
Under these two Bourbons, who strove hard to undo all the reforms that the Revolution had effected, those of the old nobility who had survived the Terror and the Wars were encouraged to return to France, and once again the refrain was:
“Chapeau bas, chapeau bas!
Gloire au Marquis de Carabas.”
They resumed their ancient titles, estates, and family arms, but the bulk of the French nation declined to consider them, or their claims, seriously. Both Louis XVIII. and Charles X. created new nobles from amongst their personal and political adherents, but few men of worth or importance were willing thus to be ennobled.
The rules of heraldry devised by Napoleon were annulled, and the old system revived. But though the wealth of the nation had greatly increased during the few years of peace, whilst the taste for literature and the formation of large collections of books had once again come into fashion, the book-plates of this period show no improvement in taste, and no originality in design. They are either overladen with meretricious ornamentation, or simple name labels possessing no artistic interest whatever.
One of the very few plates of the time worth naming is that of the Duchesse de Berry for her library at Resny, on which we find the lilies of the French royal family. The Duchess also used a simpler plate similar to a book-binding stamp.
Probably Berryer the famous advocate, had his plate engraved about this time; it is in the Louis XVI. style. (See page 149.)
The pretentious plate of Victor, Duc de Saint Simon Vermandois, Pair de France, Grand d’Espagne, is an example of the want of taste of the Restoration, as is also that of the Bibliothèque de La Motte which is destitute of grace or finish.
At length, in July, 1830, the French, weary of the reactionary rule of Charles X. and of his breaches of faith, drove him from the throne, and he sought refuge in England.
His cousin Louis Philippe was elected king of the French, and for eighteen years the country enjoyed comparative peace, and great commercial prosperity.
Then at last was France released from the nightmare pressure of the ancien régime, and free to choose a constitutional government suited to her requirements and the progress of modern civilization.
During his reign Louis Philippe created a number of new nobles, the chosen men being for the most part politicians who supported the government in parliament, rich tradesmen, office holders, and a few literary men.
Two of the greatest men of the day, Thiers and Guizot, bluntly refused to be ennobled, as later on did Mons. Rouher. The assumption of false titles still continued, whilst the prefix de which had formerly indicated gentle birth or landed estates, came to be so commonly employed as to carry no signification whatever. Book-plates of this period have little to distinguish them from those of the Restoration, except that the seal pattern, or the plain shield within a belt or garter became more common, whilst some artists affected a revival of a kind of Gothic ornamentation, with the inscription in archaic phraseology.
Of this latter style a beautiful example is the plate designed for himself by the late Mons. Claude E. Thiery, of Maxéville.
It represents the interior of a mediæval library, the walls of which are decorated with the arms of Lorraine. A reader is seated in front of two open folios, and above the design the inscription is:
“Cestuy livre est a moy Claude Thiery ymaigier de moult haust et puissant Seigneur Mon seigneur Françoy Joseph empéreur,” etc.
It is unnecessary to quote the whole of the somewhat lengthy inscription, as prints from the original plate were issued with the “Archives de la Société Française des Collectionneurs d’Ex Libris,” January 1895, together with a somewhat indignant letter from its owner pointing out several inaccuracies which had been made in an article describing the plate in “Ex Libris Ana,” page 73.
The description was certainly curiously inexact, but that these laborious imitations of the crabbed handwriting, the archaic phraseology, and the miniature painting to be found on ancient manuscripts are lacking in originality, and out of place on modern book-plates, as says the writer in “Ex Libris Ana” (and herein lay the sting of his remarks), is a conclusion in which many collectors will certainly agree.
Other well-known plates of this period are those of Aimé Leroy, A. Mercier, Viollet Le-Duc, Gabriel Peignot, Milsan, Ambroise Firmin-Didot, Desbarreaux Bernard, Pixérecourt, and Bazot, Notaire à Amiens. Yet even these present few points of interest, literary or artistic.
Aimé Leroy had a Gothic window, through which a student is seen reading. Motto: Mes livres sont ma joie. The plate of Gabriel Peignot was also what we should style a library interior, as was appropriate to its owner who had been for years connected with the libraries of Vésoul and Dijon, and had made bibliography the study of his life which extended to the good old age of eighty-two. He died in 1849.
Bazot, Notaire Amiens, had an imitation of the old style of armorial plate, with a ribbon on which the dates 1548 and 1848 appear. There is no explanation known of the first date, 1548.
Milsan attempts a weak pun on his name, bank notes for 1,000 and 100 francs represent the words Mille cent. This is the kind of joke that even a virtuous man might make in the seclusion of his own family circle, but that any sane man should engrave, revise it, print it, and finally paste it in all his books is something which almost destroys our faith in human nature.
A member of the famous publishing house, Mons. Ambroise Firmin-Didot (author of a “History of Wood-Engraving”) had an original and very appropriate design printed in gold on red morocco. In allusion to the date of the foundation of his firm, and their ancient sign, it bore the device: à la bible d’or 1698, and the inscription Bibliotheca Ambrosii Firmini Didoti, whilst in the centre was an open bible. This is just one of the few plates of this period, interesting for its owner’s sake, and for its originality, which collectors would wish to have, but it is rather difficult to obtain.
R. C. G. de Pixérecourt is found on the book-plate of the prolific dramatic author whose real appellations were René Charles Guilbert. As he was born at Pixérecourt he ennobled himself by calling himself de Pixérecourt, a piece of vanity which probably deceived no one. If the State were to tax all these assumptions of nobility, a good addition would be made to the French revenue. In other respects his ex-libris was modest enough; he did not steal a coat-of-arms, but had the simple Cross of the Legion of Honour with two branches of oak, and for motto the last line of the following charming sonnet by Desbarreaux Bernard.
SONNET.
Mes livres sont ma joie! aussi sur eux je veille
Comme veille l’avare auprès de son trésor;
Et mon esprit charmé, qui rarement sommeille,
Les prend, les lit, les quitte et les reprend encor.
Ne ménageant pour eux, ni prix, ni soins, ni veille,
Toujours prompt, toujours prêt à prendre mon essor;
Aux timides conseils fermant surtout l’oreille,
Nouveau Jason, je cours, ravir ma toison d’or!
Tout nous trompe ici-bas, les hommes et les choses,
La vipère et le taon s’abritent sous les roses,
Le peuple à la vertu ne crois plus désormais,
Le trompeur, le trompé, conspirent à portes closes,
Du sexe on sait la ruse et les métamorphoses,
Un livre est un ami qui ne trompe jamais.