ALLEGORY IN ENGLISH BOOK-PLATES
IN the last chapter I spoke of the leading styles followed in designing
English book-plates, in, as far as possible, chronological sequence,
though the reader will have noticed that such styles overlapped each
other, often by a considerable number of years. Concurrently with these
distinct styles, or with nearly all of them, there are to be found many
English book-plates which may be appropriately called 'picture'
book-plates, and which may themselves be divided into two classes: those
which, quite apart from the heraldry upon them, show things unreal, or
combinations of things real and unreal; and those which, apart from the
heraldry, show things wholly real. Let us speak, first, of the former of
these divisions--'Allegoric' book-plates we will call them.
The collector will soon discover that in England allegory formed at no
period, except, perhaps, in the days of Bartolozzi and Sherwin, a really
national style in book-plates, but rather an occasional fancy indulged
in by a particular individual here and there. Whilst in France
book-plates on which was displayed allegory, and the wildest allegory,
were actually abundant, in England they are decidedly rare; and it is
indeed interesting to see how our English artists set to work when
called upon to design them.
So far as I am aware, the earliest example of an English Allegoric
book-plate as yet brought to light, is that of Thomas Gore of Alderton,
which is fully described on p. 34. This may be dated somewhere about
1675, and was, as the signature shows us, the work of a Dutch artist,
Michael Burghers; so that we may, perhaps, regard the allegory upon it
rather as the outcome of Michael's brain than the carrying out of
instructions given him by a Wiltshire squire!
The date of the next English book-plate I have noticed, in which
allegory is introduced, is also the work of a foreigner,--a
Frenchman,--Louis du Guernier, who, at the age of thirty, came over from
Paris in 1708, and who died here in 1716. Soon after his arrival he
executed a book-plate, decidedly foreign in appearance, for Lady
Cairnes, wife of Sir Alexander Cairnes of Monaghan. The Cairnes arms,
impaling Gould, are on a round shield in a scaly frame; this is placed
on steps, at the back of which is classical masonry. The shield is kept
from falling by three cupids,--two seated and one standing,--whilst two
flying ones hold aloft a ribbon bearing the owner's name, thus: 'Lady
Elizabeth Cairnes.' She was a sister of Sir Nathaniel Gould, so that her
description on the book-plate as 'Lady' is clearly wrong; she should
have been called 'Dame.' The error arose, most likely, from the
engraver's imperfect knowledge of English titles,--a very general
stumbling-block to foreigners. The book-plate is an exceedingly pretty
piece of work. There is some of the Jacobean scale work used in it which
English engravers were beginning to introduce into their designs; but
the employment of allegory is certainly the most striking feature it
possesses. I do not know of any other book-plates executed by Louis du
Guernier while in England, and probably the people of this country were
not yet quite prepared to confide--as Lord De Tabley puts it--their
family escutcheons 'to the care of Minerva or the Delian Phoebus
himself.'
But though Michael Burghers's somewhat unbeautiful allegory may not have
pleased Thomas Gore or his other English clients in 1675, nor the
prettier allegory of Louis du Guernier have generally commended itself
to people in this country in 1710, allegory, if not in the work of these
artists, was bound sooner or later to come into fashion on English
book-plates, seeing that it was, and for long had been, fashionable
across the Channel. There have been few outbreaks of disease on the
Continent that have not infected this country,--at all events, slightly.
The foreigners whom the foreign king, on his arrival in England in 1688,
brought with him engendered foreign ways and foreign fashions at Court,
and these ways and fashions were in turn adopted by people who did not
go to Court, and that is how allegory crept into the book-plates of the
rank and file of Englishmen.
The first English engraver, born and bred, to execute an Allegoric
book-plate was John Pine, himself a man of letters, and one with whose
features Hogarth has made us familiar. In 1736 he was employed to design
and engrave a book-plate to place in the thirty thousand volumes of
Bishop Moore's library, which George I. had bought, in 1715, to present
to the University of Cambridge, but which were not suitably housed till
1734. No doubt Pine was fully impressed with the munificence of the
gift,--a mass of volumes which the heavy-headed king would have never
opened had he kept, and never understood had he opened them. His task
was to design a book-plate commensurate with the royal munificence, and
he probably considered he had been equal to the occasion when he
produced what we see opposite the next page. Lord De Tabley's words so
accurately describe this pompous production, that I will quote them:--
'The design represents a vast structure, rather like an ormolu
chimney-piece clock, of which the arms of the University of Cambridge,
in a plain, solid frame, represent the face. Behind this towers up a
vast pyramid, on which the brick work is distinctly marked. As dexter
supporter stands Phoebus Apollo in person, reaching out a wreath. A
clouded sun rays out behind him. At his feet are deposited samples of
the book collection of late so munificently bestowed. As sinister
supporter sits Minerva with helm and spear and Gorgon-headed shield. Her
feet are wrapt in cloud. In the centre of the bracket, beneath these
gods, is inserted a medallion portrait of royal George, reading round
its exergue, _Georgius D.G., MAG. BR. FR. ET HIB. REX F.D._ This is
flanked by a laurel and a palm branch.' Pine--who had submitted proofs
of this book-plate before August 1736, for at that date he offers to
make George's portrait more accurate--engraved four sizes of this plate.
The design is similar in three, but in the fourth, and smallest, the
artist evidently felt that, in so limited a space, he could not do
justice to Apollo and Minerva, and discreetly omitted them. He signs
this smallest plate in full, 'J. Pine, Sculp.'
There may now be seen at Cambridge, in many of the books which George I.
presented, book-plates which at first sight appear to be modern
impressions from Pine's plates, but, on examination, prove to be copies,
though not exact copies, of Pine's work, and on these the signature is
'J. B.' The late Mr. Henry Bradshaw discovered that these copies were
the work of John Baldrey, a Cambridge engraver, at the close of the last
century. At the time that he was working for the University, a large
number of the volumes given by George I. required re-binding, and, as
Pine's plates were worn out or lost, Baldrey was commissioned to execute
a copy of the earlier design, in order to supply a book-plate for the
re-bound volumes.
[Illustration: BOOK-PLATE FOUND IN BOOKS GIVEN BY GEORGE I. TO THE
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE.]
Very soon after the 'Munificentia Regia' to Cambridge in 1715, the
loyalty of Oxford to the 'illustrious House of Hanover' was seriously
doubted, and the King sent a squadron of horse into the city, whereupon
an Oxford 'varsity wit composed the following epigram:--
'The King, observing with judicious eyes,
The state of both his Universities,
To one he sends a regiment;--For why?
That _learned_ body wanted _loyalty_;
To th' other books he gave, as well discerning
How much that _loyal_ body wanted _learning_.'
Which drew from a champion of Cambridge the reply:--
'The King to Oxford sent his troop of horse,
For Tories own no _argument_ but _force_;
With equal care, to Cambridge books he sent,
For Whigs allow no _force_ but _argument_.'
Though much later in date than the design just noticed, it may be as
well to mention here another book-plate--also 'Allegoric'--which, was
engraved by John Pine. This was executed by him from a drawing by
Gravelot, for Dr. John Burton, about the year 1740. It shows us the
interior of a library, presumably the doctor's, with a couple of cupids
supporting a shield bearing the Burton arms. This design, which was
subsequently appropriated by 'Wadham Wyndham, Esq.,' as his
book-plate,[7] is a very 'slight' affair after the Cambridge plate; but
Pine no doubt possessed a fitting sense of the difference to be observed
in designing a book-plate for a mere Doctor of Divinity and in
commemorating the gift of a royal donor.
After John Pine, the next designers of English book-plates in the
Allegoric style are both famous men,--William Hogarth and George Vertue.
We will speak of the works of the greater man first: they consist of two
undoubted book-plates and of a few more possible ones, and were executed
quite at the outset of Hogarth's career, say, about 1720. The first is
described as done for the books of John Holland, herald painter. Minerva
is seen seated among cupids, four in number, with her hand placed upon a
shield bearing the family arms. The chief interest in Hogarth's other
undoubted book-plate--that of George Lambart, the landscape painter, one
of Hogarth's convivial crew--lies in the female figures, which sit right
and left of the shield. It is figured over leaf, from the copy in Sir
Wollaston Franks's collection, which is the only original example known
to exist--other copies are from the plates in Ireland's work, and bear
his initials. The collector is cautioned against certain plates signed
'W. H.,' which have been attributed to Hogarth, but are in reality the
work of William Hibbart, a Bath engraver, working about the middle of
the eighteenth century.
[Illustration]
Turning now to the work of George Vertue in designing English Allegoric
book-plates, we come to a very beautiful and very interesting example,
which was probably engraved in, or very soon after, 1730--the book-plate
of Henrietta, Countess of Oxford. I have already called attention to
this engraving in speaking of old-time allusions to book-plates (p. 14),
and do not here intend to do more than make passing reference to it,
since I have spoken fully of it later on in what I have to say about
'ladies'' book-plates (pp. 186-199). It is only mentioned now in order
to give a reference to it in its proper chronological position.
We have now to travel for some distance along the road of time before
coming to another example of allegory on an English book-plate.
We find it, in 1740, on a plate which one J. Skinner engraved from a
design by 'T. Ross.' This is really a very beautiful book-plate, as its
reproduction (p. 83) shows. A shield--the shape and ornamentation of
which is Chippendale--bearing the Wiltshire arms, is placed upon a
platform and against a cippus, or small monumental column; Shakespeare
stands on the right, and listens, with a pleased expression, to the
music of a rustic piper, whose head appears at the back of the cippus,
whilst, on the left, Pope weighs the eloquence of an orator, whose head
and upraised hand also appear from behind the cippus. A medallion of
Augustus is on a pedestal above. Lying on the platform are a globe and
books and many emblems of the painter's and musician's arts, and amongst
these sits Cupid thinking, perhaps, with which he will play next, and
holding the end of a ribbon inscribed: 'John Wiltshire, Bath, 1740.' The
design is certainly original, and makes us interested as to the identity
of the owner.
It is quite possible that we have here not only an interesting
book-plate, but the book-plate of an interesting man. When Gainsborough,
the painter, moved to Bath in 1760 he found that the 'Pickford' of the
day, who had the carrying trade of the Bath road, was no ordinary
carrier, but a man of taste and culture, and ready to do anything he
could to help art and artists. He was a certain John Wiltshire, and
before Gainsborough had been long a resident at Bath he was Wiltshire's
fast friend, and in the enjoyment of a very tangible proof of
friendship: for Wiltshire carried to London, _gratis_, every picture
that Gainsborough needed to send thither. Not a penny would he take for
carriage. 'No, no,' he would say, when the painter's modesty led him to
protest against such generosity, 'I admire painting too much for that.'
No doubt he did, and it must be said that, in return for his goodness,
Gainsborough gave him many a charming bit of work on which to feast his
eyes. Let us hope we have before us the book-plate of this 'kind of
worthy man,' as Allan Cunningham called him, who loved Gainsborough and
admired his works.
[Illustration]
Of course the plate is twenty years earlier than the commencement of
Gainsborough's residence at Bath and of his friendship with Wiltshire;
but what of that? Wiltshire had been, likely enough, a lover of things
beautiful and the owner of books, long before; there is no necessity for
imagining that his was a sudden conversion to a self-sacrificing love
for art, produced by intimacy with Gainsborough.
Another interesting English book-plate, in which allegory plays a part,
is that, also by J. Skinner, of William Oliver,[8] doctor of medicine,
philanthropist, and inventor of biscuits. It is, judging from the form
of the engraver's signature, of about the same date as the Wiltshire
book-plate. The shield, bearing the Oliver coat-of-arms, rests upon a
platform on which stand two figures, as in the example last described;
but instead of these figures being representative of the drama and of
literature, they are an ancient and a modern medical practitioner: the
former, perhaps, even the god of medicine himself. This was quite
appropriate, for Oliver, though a man of cultured tastes in varied walks
of life, and one who might have appropriately committed the care of his
family escutcheon to the allegoric representatives of many arts, was
first and foremost a doctor of medicine. The modern doctor is arrayed in
cap and gown, and stands on the left of the shield, with hand
outstretched towards his fellow of old time. Below the platform, on a
triangle, is a club, around which the serpent of Æsculapius entwines
itself.
[Illustration]
Oliver's life lasted for hard on seventy years--1695 to 1764; after
settling at Bath and commencing practice, his rise to fame was
remarkable for its rapidity, and, as quite early in his career he busied
himself with hospital building, hospital management, and other good
works, he soon made for himself a number of enemies amongst his
fellow-practitioners less capable and less energetic than himself. As a
physician and philanthropist he is now forgotten; as the inventor of a
biscuit he is remembered--for the 'Bath Oliver' still holds its own
against the multitude of modern competitors, and is still--so the makers
say--prepared from Dr. Oliver's original receipt. That receipt he
confided, when on his death-bed, to his coachman, giving him £100 in
money and ten sacks of the finest flour wherewith to continue the
production of the then already popular biscuits. With the money the
coachman opened a shop in Green Street, Bath, and so got together a
comfortable fortune. Of Skinner, to whom we owe these two plates, we
shall have more to say presently (pp. 203-212), in referring to the
engravers of English book-plates.
Ten years after the Wiltshire plate comes our next distinctly Allegoric
book-plate, engraved by a second-rate engraver for 'John Duick.' I have
not seen this plate, but Lord De Tabley, whose word-pictures are always
good, thus describes it:--'Apollo with a broad ray effect round his
head, playing the lyre to the nine Muses, who are grouped around him;
the musical ones also assist in the concert with various instruments.
Below are clouds, above them appear the abrupt cliffs of Helicon, with
Pegasus launching himself into the air therefrom; the fountain
Hippocrene, tapped by his galloping hoofs, descends the cliff-side in a
cascade.'
Allegory also appears in the two book-plates engraved by Sir Robert
Strange about the middle of the eighteenth century; those of his
brother-in-law, Andrew Lumisden, secretary to Prince Charlie, and of a
Dr. Thomas Drummond. The circumstances under which the former was
engraved have been already referred to (p. 11). It is a sombre
book-plate, showing us, before a dark background, a slab with a bust at
either end; 'Cupid' plays on the ground before the centre of the slab;
the Lumisden arms are on a shield that lies in the left-hand corner; and
a heavy curtain hangs over the upper part of the design, which is signed
'_R. Strange, sculpt._'
Dr. Drummond's book-plate (see p. 89) is a less heavy, but not so
finished a production, and is drawn by T. Wale: Aurora soars at the top
of the design, and with her left hand pulls aside a curtain, thus
disclosing a view of the doctor's library. In the centre is placed a
table covered with cloth, except at the right-hand corner; here the
drapery is raised so as to display the ornate workmanship of the
table-leg. On the cloth are a number of books, some music, and a flute;
before the table a globe, and, leaning against that, a violoncello. The
general decoration of the room is classical, and busts and statues are
introduced, though not with sufficient detail to be recognisable. In
Aurora's right hand is a flaming torch, held in dangerous proximity to
the curtain.
After the date of these two plates comes another long interval--twenty
years or so--before we reach the next truly Allegoric book-plate
designed in England. We then find a decidedly graceful piece of work. A
hooded Sibyl, seated at the foot of a pyramid, peruses attentively an
open volume. She leans her cheek upon her right hand, whilst the left
rests upon the book. A caduceus, against which rests a shield of arms,
lies at her feet. The whole is contained in an oval wreath of berried
laurel. Below is written: 'E libris Joh[=i]s Currer de Kildwick, Arm.'
This book-plate was afterwards altered for 'Danson Richardson Currer, de
Gledston, Ar[=m],' and an inferior copy was used by a certain R. H.
Alexander Bennet; this is a much commoner book-plate than the Currer--in
either form.
[Illustration]
Of much the same date is the far less graceful representation of
allegory, which appears on the book-plate of 'T. Gascoigne, Parlington,
in Yorkshire.' Here we have a representation of what, we must presume,
is the interior of the Parlington Library; but neither 'T. Gascoigne,'
nor yet any other eighteenth century Yorkshire gentleman, is tasting the
sweets of his literary collection; the library is tenanted by a couple
of mythological females, of such substantial forms that Lord De Tabley
thinks they must represent two Yorkshire damsels masquerading, one as a
muse and the other as Apollo. The muse writes down either notes or words
from Apollo's dictation. Columns support the roof of the library, and in
a niche in the wall stands a small statue of Minerva. If Mr. Gascoigne
obtained the services of some Yorkshire relatives to stand as models for
the figures on his book-plate, he probably did so when they were in town
for the season, for the work is signed by a Bond Street engraver.
About the year 1775, English Allegoric book-plates became more numerous,
and the allegory upon them assumes a grace in conception and execution
not before known. Cipriani, Bartolozzi, and his pupil Sherwin, were
showing Englishmen how allegory could be represented on book-plates
without being clumsy and ridiculous, and the lesser artists were
imitating their work with more or less success.
One of Bartolozzi's earliest book-plates was executed for Sir Foster
Cunliffe, Bart., the descendant of a very famous Liverpool merchant. The
Cunliffe arms appear in mid-air, resting upon a bank of clouds; two
exquisitely drawn cherubs support the shield, over which is folded
drapery. The cherub on the dexter side is seated, and holds a caduceus
in his right hand. The one on the sinister side is furnished with two
trumpets, and is blowing that in his left hand. On a medallion above the
shield is the Cunliffe crest, with the motto _Fideliter_. The plate,
which was afterwards altered for Sir Robert H. Cunliffe, Bart., is, in
all probability, Cipriani's design, for that artist signs his name as
designer of an almost similar book-plate for Jean Tommins, which was
engraved by Ford several years before. A very coarse imitation of the
design was also used by Thomas Anson of Shughborough, who intrusted the
imitation to Yates.
Sir Foster Cunliffe was a grandson of Foster Cunliffe, King Charles the
Second's godson, the Liverpool merchant, who, according to Foster's
_Lancashire Families_, 'became not only the first man in Liverpool, but
was supposed to have a more extended commerce than any merchant in the
kingdom, and declined all solicitations that he should represent
Liverpool in Parliament.'
The remarkably large example of Bartolozzi's work which has often been
described as the book-plate of George III., does not appear ever to have
been used as such. In the previous edition of this book I alluded to it
(at p. 67) as, possibly, a gift to the King, in which, at the expense of
utility, Bartolozzi sought to display his gratitude to, and admiration
for, the sovereign, under whom he had come to reside; it does not,
however, seem that Bartolozzi intended the engraving for a book-plate at
all, but designed it for the title-page of a folio volume, issued in
1792, which contained engravings of thirty-six statesmen of the reign of
Henry VIII., from drawings by Holbein. I will give a short description
of the engraving in question, so that it may be more easily recognised
by the collector, if offered to him as a book-plate. It shows us the
arms of England, as borne by George III., prior to the Union with
Ireland, upheld in mid-air by three inhabitants of the skies. Above the
shield a fourth celestial being is flying, and at the same time holding
aloft His Majesty's crown. On the left side of the plate is the figure
of Fame, who, on a long trumpet placed to her lips, is evidently giving
a sonorous blast. This is perhaps the most uncomfortable part of the
design, for the whole weight of this somewhat massive young lady is upon
the shield, which we have said is in mid-air, and only supported by
three cherubs, whose united muscular powers strike one as totally
inadequate to bear the burden imposed upon them.
[Illustration]
In 1796, Bartolozzi, then a Royal Academician, executed his most
beautiful book-plate. It is inscribed 'H. F. Bessborough,' and was made
for Lady Henrietta Frances Spencer, who, in 1780, married Frederick,
third Earl of Bessborough. The design shows us a Roman interior with an
exquisitely drawn Venus, seated, and holding in her left hand--which is
uplifted--a burning human heart, and in her right, a dove. Behind her is
a vase of flowers. The other inmates of the room are two cupids, who
hold above the goddess a long scarf bearing Lady Bessborough's name. The
design is Cipriani's. Besides his signature and that of the engraver,
there is also on the book-plate, 'Published Dec. 30, 1796, by F.
Bartolozzi.' It will be remembered that in 1735 Hogarth, by his own
exertions on behalf of his brother artists, managed to get an Act
through Parliament--a body that then probably cared little for art or
artists--by which designers and engravers obtained a copyright in their
own works; and it is a singular testimony to the popularity of
Bartolozzi's work, that on so trivial a work as a book-plate it was
found necessary to adopt this formula of publication. By the kindness of
the Hon. Gerald Ponsonby, I am enabled to state that Bartolozzi's
receipt for this 'ticket plate,' as he calls it, bears as its date the
29th December 1796, the day before the date of 'publication.' It is
noteworthy that Bartolozzi received £20 for his work. The book-plate is
given on the previous page.
Quite distinct from this 'joyous' book-plate is another, executed by the
same artist for a Spanish lady, which we may class as English, since it
was no doubt engraved by him in England. Isabel de Menezes, the lady for
whom this book-plate was designed, was, as she tells us on it, in the
seventy-first year of her age. Allegoric figures disporting themselves
in youthful frolic would, perhaps, have been out of keeping on the
book-plate of a lady at that sombre time of life, and so the designer
has run to the other extreme. Gloominess predominates in this
book-plate. A partly ruined square-built tomb is erected on a promontory
above the sea; briars and other creepers have grown round it and had
covered it, till the kneeling female figure drew them down in order to
place upon the tomb a commemorative inscription. Beside the figure is a
Cupid, who points to the newly-cut words. It has been thought that this
may have been designed for a visiting card; it is quite in the fashion
of such things at the date, and it is likely enough that Isabel de
Menezes used the plate both as a card and as a mark of ownership for
her books.
There are, besides those described, a number of English book-plates
which in style much resemble Bartolozzi's work. If they are his, they
probably date before 1796, for the adoption of the publication formula,
before noticed, makes it improbable that he executed any work, whilst in
England, that he did not thus protect. After his departure from this
country, he produced, from a drawing by Signeira, a book-plate for Sir
Thomas Gage, Bart., of Hengrave Hall, Suffolk. In this, a female figure
sits upon a stone, against which is a plain shield bearing the Gage
arms. The plate is signed 'Bartolozzi, Lisbon, 1805.' There is a
distinct resemblance in this book-plate to that which was engraved,
either in 1786 or 1787, for Richard Hoare, eldest son of the Lord Mayor
of London. He was created a baronet in the former year, and died in the
latter. In this we have a seated female, classically draped, who rests
her left elbow on a cippus, on which is engraved a shield bearing the
arms of Hoare. Richard Hoare married the heiress of Stourhead, and his
son was Sir Richard Colt Hoare, the famous antiquary and author. The
date at which this plate must have been executed, 1786 or 1787, does not
allow the absence of the engraver's name and formula of publication to
tell against the work being Bartolozzi's; his fame was not then so
great, and he found it less necessary to protect his engravings from
piracy (see p. 197).
Beautiful as are Bartolozzi's book-plates, it cannot be said that his
capabilities as a designer or an engraver are demonstrated in these;
works of a larger kind showed forth his talents far more.
So, then, allegory at length came to be almost popular with English
book-plate owners, and various lesser artists--Henshaw, Roe, Pollard,
and some others--produced it in imitation of Bartolozzi, with only
indifferent success. But before ending this chapter, we must say
something about the book-plate work of Bartolozzi's chief English pupil,
John Keys Sherwin. In 1773, the year after he gained the Royal Academy's
gold medal for drawing, he executed an extremely pretty Allegoric
book-plate for John Mitford of Pitt's Hill. It represents an infant
Neptune, with his trident, seated on a large shell, which is upon the
back of a sea-horse. Young Neptune's drapery forms a graceful canopy,
and he supports in his right hand a small shell, which displays the
Mitford arms and crest. A dolphin, spouting water in fountain-like
sprays, swims by his side. There are two states of this plate, one
having the arms incorrectly shaded: both are signed by Sherwin.
In closing our remarks on English book-plates, designed after this
fashion, notice--though only a passing one, for it is spoken of fully
later on--must be taken of the charming book-plate which Agnes Berry
designed in 1793 for her friend Mrs. Damer. I mention it here only to
associate it in the reader's mind with 'Allegoric' book-plates.
So much for allegory on English book-plates. It is to the credit of
Englishmen that Allegoric work did not become popular until something
really artistic in this particular style was produced, and that, even
before that time, allegory never ran quite so wild on English
book-plates as it did on foreign examples. M. Poulet Malassis assures us
that into one French book-plate of the last century were crowded the
whole _personnel_ of Olympus!
FOOTNOTES:
[7] The design has been more recently used by Thomas Gainsford.
[8] William Oliver's plate from _Bibliographica_, vol. ii. p. 434.