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.