EXAMPLES OF EX-LIBRIS. From 1700 TO 1789.
The rapid multiplication of books and libraries during this period
naturally led to a corresponding increase in the use of ex-libris. About
the same time a new style of ex-libris comes in, more fanciful and
artistic than of yore, but it must be confessed of a less practical
character. These remain, for the greater part, heraldic in design, in
fact, more pretentiously heraldic than ever. For, with the progress of
education and the advance of philosophical speculation in France, people
began to realize the absurdity of purchasing heraldic bearings, and,
seeing what a sham the whole thing had become, finished by assuming arms
and coronets to keep in the fashion. “Le blason,” wrote the Sieur de
Chevigni in 1723, “est devenu un jardin public où chacun s’accommode à
sa fantaisie pour les armoiries comme pour les couronnes.”
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF N. R. FRIZON DE BLAMONT, 1704.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF CLARET DELATOURRETTE, 1719.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF MICHEL, COMTE DE FAULTRIERES, 1730.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF FRAN. MOUCHARD, ECUYER, 1732.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF F. G. LECUYER.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF R. JEHANNOT DE BEAUMONT, 1742.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF DELALEU, 1754.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF P. A. CONVERS, 1762.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF THE CHEVALIER DE BELLEHACHE, 1771.]
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?
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF J. G. R. BOSCHERON, 1777.]
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF A. F. A. BOULA DE NANTEUIL, 1777.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF JEAN FRANÇOIS-GILLET, 1778.]
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_.”
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF DUCHÉ, 1779.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF THE COMTESSE DU BARRY.]
“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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF CLAUDE MARTIN.]
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF THE COLONEL DE CUZIEU.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF THE CHÂTEAU ROYAL DE LA BASTILLE.]
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF PASQUIER DE MESSANGE, 1792.]
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.
[Illustration: THE ACHIEVEMENT OF LOUIS XVI.]
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF MONSIEUR LEJOURDAN, CONSEILLER EN
L’AMIRAUTÉ, 1786]
[Illustration]