THE RESTORATION, AND LOUIS PHILIPPE.
On the abdication of Napoleon, Louis XVIII. was placed on the throne of
his ancestors, and reigned over France by the Grace of God and the Holy
Alliance.
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.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF THE DUCHESSE DE BERRY.]
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_.
THE SECOND EMPIRE.
Owing to a variety of circumstances Louis Philippe became unpopular, and
at length in 1848 there were serious disturbances in Paris. It is
probable that a man of strong will might have put these down with some
little bloodshed, but Louis Philippe was a kindly, peace-loving man, and
rather than face the horrors of a civil war he abdicated, and the second
Republic was proclaimed, to be quickly changed into the Second Empire,
under Napoléon III.
Par le temps renversé, quand cet empire immense,
Chef-d’œuvre de génie autant que de puissance.
Un jour n’offrira plus aux siécles à venir
Que de grandes leçons et qu’un grand souvenir.
These lines were written about the First Empire, but are still more
appropriate to the Second, which is now, indeed, nothing more than a
name connected with the saddest of souvenirs.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF MONSIEUR RISTON.
Engraved by D. Collin.]
Under the Second Empire book-plates began to have a distinctly personal
character, more originality in conception, together with much greater
freedom and _abandon_ in execution. Humorous designs also occasionally
appear, where all had hitherto been formal, cold, pompous, or severe.
The simple heraldic plate falls into disfavour amongst those who are
entitled to bear arms, though curiously enough the assumption of false
arms and titles goes on exactly as before.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF THE VICOMTE BEUGNOT.]
In 1857 the Minister of Justice addressed a report on this topic to the
emperor, asserting “que jamais peut-être la tendance à sortir de sa
position et à se parer de titres auxquels on n’a pas droit ne s’est
manifesté d’une manière plus regrettable que depuis ces dernières
années.”
But the evil had existed, still exists, and will continue so long as the
vanity of human nature prompts men to lay claim to ancient descent, and
to assume arms and titles either stolen, ready made, or purchased at
the _Bureaux de Généalogistes_ which abound in Paris as in London.
It is no new crime, this snobbism--Molière jested at it two centuries
ago:
“Je sais un paysan qu’on appelait Gros-Pierre,
Qui n’ayant pour tout bien qu’un seul quartier de terre,
Y fit tout à l’entour faire un fossé bourbeux,
Et de Monsieur de l’Isle en prit le nom pompeux.”
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF M. LE COMTE LANJUINAIS.]
As for the real heraldry of the Second Empire, such as there was of it,
the fashion of the First Empire was revived by Napoleon III., whose
constant endeavour it was to make the French people recognize in him the
nephew of his uncle, whilst they, on the other hand, would not seriously
believe that he was even the son of his reputed father. “Vous n’avez
rien du grand Empéreur Napoléon,” said his cousin Plon-plon to him one
day. “You are mistaken, I have all his poor relations,” replied the
easy, good-natured Louis Napoleon, who was in addition hampered by the
descendants of the courtiers of the first Napoleon.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF THE MARQUIS DE PASTORET.]
The emperor did not possess a book-plate, but books with the imperial
arms stamped on their bindings occasionally occur in French sales. More
rare, and consequently more sought after, are the volumes which are
stamped either with his monogram, or with the elegant little device of
the Empress Eugénie.
Severely simple as is the monogram of Napoleon III., it is ingenious,
and not without a certain air of grandeur, whilst the badge of the
empress, though still preserving an imperial character, is more graceful
and ornamental, as was appropriate to its owner, who was considered one
of the most beautiful women of her time.
[Illustration: CIPHER ON BINDINGS OF NAPOLEON III.]
These two stamps were principally used on the bindings of books which
were either presented or dedicated to the emperor and empress, and the
volumes on which they are found certainly belonged to their private
library.
A characteristic example of the formal heraldic book-plate in vogue
during the Second Empire is that of Amédée David, Marquis de Pastoret,
a politician and littérateur, who was born in 1791, and died on May 19,
1857. His war cry, “France! France!” recalls the fact, little to his
credit, that he was one of the first to applaud the _Coup d’Etat_ of
Napoleon III. and to profit by it. (See p. 144.)
[Illustration: CIPHER ON BINDINGS OF THE EMPRESS EUGÉNIE.]
He was the son of M. Pastoret, a senator and member of the Institute of
France, created a Count of the Empire by the first Napoleon, with a
grant of arms thus described in the _Armorial Général de l’Empire
Français_: “D’or à la bande de gueules chargée d’un berger paissant un
mouton d’argent.”
This Count of the First Empire became a Peer of France under the
Restoration, and figures as a brilliant instance of a successful
turncoat in the _Dictionnaire des Girouettes_.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF LE COMTE DE GRANCEY.]
On page 143 is the modern armorial of the Comte Lanjuinais, probably
that of the son of the first Comte Lanjuinais, who started in politics
as a member of the National Convention, swore fidelity to the Republic
and death to the King. This did not prevent him from accepting the title
of Count of the Empire from Napoleon, who also named him a knight
commander in the Légion d’Honneur. On the return of Louis XVIII. he was
named a Peer of France, but he again espoused the cause of Napoleon on
his escape from Elba, whilst on the downfall of the Empire for the
second time he obtained another appointment by the grace of the king.
His name and fame are immortalized in the “Dictionary of Turncoats.”
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF THE DUC DE MOUCHY.]
The Comte de Beugnot was a Councillor of State, and Officer of the
Légion d’Honneur under Napoleon I., and he also served under Louis
XVIII. The Vicomte, his son, on his modern book-plate (see p. 142)
carries quarterly first and fourth, the Beugnot arms, “argent, au
chevron d’or, accompagne de trois grappes de raisin de gueules.”
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF MONSIEUR BERRYER.]
Monsieur Pierre Antoine Berryer was the most famous advocate at the
French bar during the Empire, his defence of the Count Montalembert in
1858 created some sensation at the time. He was elected a member of the
Académie Française in 1855, and of the Corps Legislatif in 1863.
His book-plate is distinctly in the Louis XVI. style, but this is not so
incongruous as it appears at first sight, for M. Berryer was born in
1790, and was first elected a deputy in 1830 when France was still
under the Bourbons.
On page 148 is a reproduction of the plate of the Duc de Mouchy, another
supporter of the Third Empire, bearing the Cross of the Legion of
Honour. He and the duchess for some time resided in Paris in a house
which belonged to the empress, but after the downfall of the Empire,
this house was bought by the late Baron Hirsch, who also bought
Beauregard, near St. Cloud, which had formerly belonged to Mrs. Howard,
a mistress of Napoleon.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE OF GENERAL DE LANCEY.]
What a curious comic opera court it was, this of the Second Empire, with
the emperor’s life-long friend Persigny at the head of it, and he the
son of a pastrycook.
Persigny married the daughter of Marshal Ney, a rich, vulgar, violent
woman. When Persigny was appointed Ambassador to the Court of St.
James, he unfortunately brought his wife with him. At a _bal masqué_,
attended by the Queen and Prince Albert, the wife of Persigny suddenly
slapped a lady in the face because she had copied her costume;
consequently “urgent private affairs” required the immediate return to
Paris of Mons. de Persigny. The emperor, to console him, shortly
afterwards created him a duke.
Then there were De Maupas, the Count Walewski (an illegitimate son of
the first Napoleon), the Baron Haussmann, Préfet de la Seine, who
rebuilt Paris, and enriched all his friends, De Lesseps, and crowds of
political adventurers, feather-bed soldiers, and financial schemers, who
thrived in this hot-bed of corruption, and amassed fabulous fortunes at
the expense of France.
The festivities came to an end none too soon for the nation, but the
bill was a terrible one to pay.
[Illustration]