There is a somewhat elaborate book-plate, engraved in several sizes, and dated in 1692, which introduces the cardinal's hat, mitre, and crozier, and which was prepared to place in the books given by Dr. Peter Daniel Huet to the Paris Jesuits. Huet is himself an interesting figure in French literature. In 1670 he was made tutor to the Dauphin, and whilst so employed he assisted in bringing out the sixty-two volumes of classics, specially prepared for his pupil, known as the Delphin edition. He became Bishop of Avranches in 1689, but ten years after resigned his see in order to devote the remainder of his life to literature, which he did, completing amongst other voluminous works a defence of the doctrine of Christianity.
BOOK-PLATE OF CHARLES DE SALES.
It is from their possessors that French book-plates derive their chief interest; and these possessors are for the most part persons who lived at a late date. Amongst the few early celebrities is the soldier-poet of France, Francis de Malherbe, of whom it has been said that he was as lax in morals as he was rigid in his zeal for the purity of his native language. His book-plate is figured at [p. 25], and is interesting as showing that no reliance can be placed on lines, apparently expressing the colour of the shield in early Armorial book-plates (see [pp. 21-22]). He died in 1628. The books containing this very pleasing book-plate passed after De Malherbe's death to Vincent de Boyer, in whose family they remained till the Revolution; after that they were dispersed.
Coming to later times, we find a charming book-plate, engraved by Le Grand for the unfortunate Countess Dubarry. Her books were well chosen and well bound, but they were few in number; hence her book-plate is rare, but it may be seen in the library at Versailles, where most of her books are preserved. Though she could not read, she seems to have felt in duty bound to follow 'La Pompadour' in getting together a library to amuse her royal master.
From the book-plate of the countess—a woman who, after aiding in the general degradation of the French court, was willing to risk her life for those whose downfall she had in a measure assisted in bringing about—we may appropriately turn to that of Cardinal Maury; the inscription on which reads: Bibliothèque particulière de son Eminence Mgr. le Cardinal Maury. This book-plate calls to mind a famous figure in the French Revolution,—a fervent preacher, the spokesman of his fellow-clergy before those who were but little inclined to listen to argument; the calm-minded man, who would turn round and give a witty retort to a cry raised by the mob which followed through the streets of Paris, clamouring for his blood.
The mention of these names leads one naturally to speak generally of book-plates engraved about the time of the French Revolution,—a period which is immortalised in a singular manner on French book-plates. M. Poulet Malassis remarks that many a noble library owner took good care to alter his book-plate in those troublesome times, and to replace the coronet which had surmounted the family escutcheon by the Phrygian cap of liberty. For instance, the Viscount de Borbon-Busset in 1793 changed his Armorial book-plate to a simple inscription—in which he calls himself 'Citoyen François'—surrounded by a leafy garland. The same fashion is exemplified even in clerical examples. Father le Mercier in his first book-plate displays the coronet which he either was, or at least considered himself to be, entitled to bear; but between 1789 and 1792 we find a second example of his book-plate, with a simple decorative finish to the top of the design in lieu of the coronet. At that time there was in France, as Mr. Walter Hamilton puts it, 'an awkward fashion of putting heads accustomed to coronets under the falling knife of the guillotine.'
As far as the classifying of the leading styles in French book-plates goes, M. Poulet Malassis does not really help us much; and we cannot but hope that ere long some enterprising French collector will undertake the task. There is certainly, as M. Poulet Malassis observes, a resemblance—as the reader will see by turning back to the illustration of De Malherbe's book-plate—between the style of the first French book-plates and that of the first English; and it is noteworthy that the style disappeared in both countries much at the same time. Again, French book-plates of 1720-1730 bear distinct traces of what we have called 'Jacobean' work in speaking of English examples.
The French Rococo book-plate is really analogous to our 'Chippendale.' There is, however, a greater variety both of subject and treatment in each French style than one finds in England.