Was it for him that this epitaph was written?—
“Ci-git un grand personnage,
Qui fut d’un illustre lignage,
Qui posséda mille vertus;
Qui ne se trompa jamais, qui fut toujours fort sage;
Je n’en dirai pas d’avantage,
C’est trop mentir pour cent écus.”
The game cock was a favourite emblem with the ancient Greeks and Romans, on account of its courage and endurance. “The gait of the cock,” writes Pliny, “is proud and commanding; he walks in a stately stride, with his head erect and elevated crest; alone, of all birds, he habitually looks up to the sky, raising at the same time his curved and graceful tail, and inspiring terror even in the lion himself, that most intrepid of animals.” He will fight to the death, and use his last breath to crow out a defiance, whilst the conqueror, standing over his vanquished rival, will flap his wings and loudly proclaim his victory.
For many ages the game cock, as brave and noble a bird as any that lives, was the badge of our Gallic neighbours:
“Le coq français est le coq de la gloire,
Par les revers il n’est point abattu;
Il chante fort lorsqu’il à la victoire,
Encor plus fort quand il est bien battu.
Le coq français est le coq de la gloire
Toujours chanter est sa grande vertu.
Est il imprudent, est-il sage?
C’est ce qu’on ne peut définir:
Mais qui ne perd jamais courage,
Se rend maitre de l’avenir.”
Besides being a national emblem, many ancient and noble French houses bore a cock on their shields. There were cocks “cantant,” holding up their heads with opened beaks, as though they were crowing, and cocks “hardy,” which stood on one leg with the other aggressively uplifted. Louis-Philippe, on being made King of the French, adopted the bird standing in this warlike attitude, a circumstance which did not escape the attention of the Legitimist opponents of the bourgeois king. Shortly after his accession a biting satire was circulated in anti-Orleanist society. It set forth how the noble Gallic cock, raking in the dunghill, had scratched up King Louis-Philippe, who, in exulting gratitude, had placed the bird in the arms of France. Be this as it may, the Gallic cock held his place on the escutcheon of the Orleanist dynasty until the events of 1848 compelled Louis-Philippe to escape to England under the assumed name of Mr. Smith.
M. Gambetta carried this bird, in the act of crowing, on his book-plate, with an equally gallant motto, “Vouloir c’est Pouvoir,” but we seek in vain to learn of what was composed the library of Gambetta. This is a mystery! It may be readily surmised that he had not many of the tastes of a bibliophile, nor time in which to indulge them. As to the plate itself, the design was probably suggested by Poulet-Malassis, and it was engraved by M. Alphonse Legros about 1874, when that artist was commissioned by Sir Charles Dilke to go to Paris to procure a portrait of M. Léon Gambetta.
Proof impressions of the plate exist in four states, all very rare; but the curious feature about it is that M. Gambetta certified in 1882 that he had never made use of it as a book-plate, and when in May, 1895, Dr. Bouland obtained the loan of the original copper to publish in the “Archives de la Société Française,” he found it had scarcely been used. So that the numerous copies of the Gambetta book-plate scattered about must be looked upon as forgeries.
The book-plate of another distinguished Frenchman, Victor Hugo, is also somewhat of a puzzle.