INSCRIPTIONS ON BOOK-PLATES IN CONDEMNATION OF BOOK-STEALING OR
BOOK-SPOILING, AND IN PRAISE OF STUDY
I PROPOSE now to speak about the inscriptions on book-plates, and I will
divide them as follows:--(1) Sentiments in condemnation of book-stealing
or book-spoiling; (2) sentiments in praise of books or of study; and (3)
personal particulars of the owner of the book-plate, which last class
shall receive attention in a separate chapter. In all three cases
illustrations may be appropriately drawn both from English and foreign
examples.
Let me begin by calling the reader's attention to the fact, which I
commented upon in my first chapter, that in nearly all inscriptions on
book-plates it is the volume in which the book-plate is placed, and not
the book-plate itself, that is spokesman. Take the inscription on one of
the earliest examples: 'Liber Bilibaldi Pirckheimer, Sibi et amicis.'
Bilibald Pirckheimer's book for himself and his friends! Here is an
amiable intention; but the plan did not work, and we do not find the
sentiment often repeated. In the good jurist's day printed books were
not numerous, and they were costly. Then might a man be reasonably
regarded as a dog in the manger, who shut the door of his bookcase
against those anxious to benefit by the work of the printing-press; then
mankind at large had not demonstrated the fact that general morality
does not extend to returning borrowed books. Hence, I say, it was that
on this early book-plate we have the expression 'Sibi et amicis.'
School-boys--and I dare say, if one could only learn the truth in such
matters, school-girls too--have a habit of inscribing their school-books
with verses, denouncing in decidedly forcible language the school-fellow
who steals--_i.e._ borrows and forgets to return--any particular volume,
and at the end of these verses is depicted a gallows from which hangs
the lifeless body of the thief. When did school-boys first thus protect
their possessions? Few school-books survive for use by many successive
generations, so we have no means of answering the question
satisfactorily; but in a book--not a school-book--published in 1540,
there are written (so a correspondent of _Notes and Queries_ informs
us), in writing more than three centuries old, these lines below the
owner's signature:--
'My Master's name above you se,
Take heede therefore you steale not mee;
For if you doe, without delay
Your necke . . . for me shall pay.
Looke doune below and you shal see
The picture of the gallowstree;
Take heede therefore of thys in time,
Lest on this tree you highly clime.'
[Drawing of the gallows.]
So the school-boy's doggerel is at least founded on an ancient model,
which we have quoted, though not actually appearing on a book-plate,
because it was clearly intended to do duty as one.
Of exactly the same date is a very pompous declaration, on a German
book-plate, of a donor's intention that certain volumes given by him
should remain for ever in the library to which they are presented. The
owner of the book-plate was John Faber, Bishop of Vienna, who died in
1541, and who, in the previous year, presented his books to the College
of St. Nicholas in that city. Here is a translation given by Lord De
Tabley, in which mark how in kingly fashion the bishop refers to himself
as 'we':--
'This book was bought by us, Dr. John Faber, Bishop of Vienna, and
assistant in the Government of the New State, both as councillor and
confessor to the most glorious, clement, and pious Ferdinand, King of
the Romans, Hungary, and Bohemia, and Archduke of Austria. And since,
indeed, that money (which purchased this volume) did not arise from the
revenues and properties of our diocese, but from our own most honest
labours in other directions. And therefore it is free to us to give or
bequeath the book to whomsoever we please. We accordingly present it to
our College of St. Nicholas. And we ordain that this volume shall remain
there for ever for the use of the students, according to our order and
decree. Done in our Episcopal Court at Vienna, on the first day of
September in the year of Grace 1540.'
[Illustration]
Dr. Faber was famous for his orthodoxy and his fervour in enforcing it;
so much so, that he earned for himself the title _Malleus hereticorum_.
He does not trust himself to express his opinion of the too eager
student who should take to himself a volume from amongst these books;
which is perhaps well.
More polite than the English verses of 1540, and therefore not half so
serviceable, are those printed on an actual book-plate, by which Andrew
Hedio, a Königsberg professor of philosophy, who lived about the middle
of the seventeenth century, sought to insure the safe return to his
library of any volume which was out on loan. The arms of Hedio--the head
and shoulders of an old bearded man in a fish-tailed nightcap--appear on
the book-plate, and below, supposed to be spoken by the volume, are
Latin verses, which in free translation may be rendered:--
'By him who bought me for his own,
I'm lent for reading leaf by leaf;
If honest, you'll return the loan,
If you retain me, you're a thief.'
If you turn back to p. 123 and look at the book-plate of Speratus, you
will see that he had expressed very much this sentiment more than a
century before.
It is not till the beginning of the eighteenth century that we find any
decided expression of possession on an English book-plate. Then it
occurs on that of John Reilly (described on p. 53). At the very bottom
of the design is printed: 'Clamabunt omnes te, liber, esse meum.' Here
you see it is John Reilly himself and not his book that speaks. It is a
mild and decidedly gentlemanly way of expressing ownership, free from
threats for not returning the volume; indeed, hardly contemplating the
possibility of so dishonest an act.
About the same date as Reilly's book-plate is a very graceful German
one, executed for Michael Lilienthal (figured on p. 165). It shows us a
group of growing lilies, around which bees are hovering or tasting their
sweetness, and below--
'Use the book, but let no one misuse it;
The bee does not stain the lilies, but only touches them.'
From this graceful book-plate and the pleasantry of its inscription, we
turn to a heavy declamatory sentence, devised, _circa_ 1730, by the
librarian of the Benedictine monastery of Wessenbrun, in Bavaria, for
the books in his charge to speak when a theft had been actually
committed or was in contemplation: 'I am the rightful possession of the
Cloister of Wessenbrun. Ho there! Restore me to my master, so right
demands!'
Sherlock Willis, whose book-plate--a decided 'Chippendale'--is dated in
1756, flies to Scripture for his aid against immoral borrowers, and
places on his book-plate the familiar quotation from the 37th Psalm:
'The ungodly borroweth, and payeth not again.' Various other English
book-plates bear the same quotation, or some other taken from the Bible.
On that in use at the Parochial Library of Tadcaster, which shows us St.
John in the isle of Patmos receiving from the angel the book which he
was to eat, we read: 'Accipe librum et devora illum' (Rev. x. 9); advice
which it was not, we may presume, intended that the borrower should
follow literally.
There is something very businesslike and to the point about the
inscription on the book-plate of Charles Ferdinand Hommeau, which is
dated six years after that of Sherlock Willis. The inscription reads in
translation: 'If you do not return the loan within fourteen days, or do
not keep it carefully, on another occasion [when you ask to borrow it or
some other book] I shall say I have not got it.' So M. Hommeau will not
mind telling a lie to protect his library; and what is more, does not
mind telling the world of his intention to do so. Truly he was an honest
liar.
David Garrick (whose book-plate is figured opposite) selected as an
appropriate quotation for his book-plate the following, taken from the
fourth volume of _Menagiana_:--'La première chose qu'on doit faire quand
on a emprunté un livre, c'est de le lire afin de pouvoir le rendre
plutôt.' Very good advice, no doubt; but I wonder if 'Davy' was careful
enough to confine his loans to those who would follow it? This reminds
me of a very nicely put passage of Lord De Tabley's, _à propos_ of the
subject of book-borrowing in general:--
[Illustration]
'Now this batch of mottoes raises the point, whether valuable books
should be lent to persons who treat volumes like coal scuttles; who
perpetrate such atrocities as moistening their thumbs to turn a page
over; who hold a fine binding before a roaring fire? who, _horribile
dictu_, read at breakfast, and use, as a book-marker, the butter-knife.
Ought Garrick to have lent the cream of his Shakespeare quartos to
slovenly and mole-eyed Samuel Johnson? We think emphatically not! Many
full-grown folks have no more idea of handling a book than has a
school-boy.'
So far the 'caveats' on book-plates have been either original
compositions or quotations, specially selected by the owner; but, as
time went on, people did not trouble to compose their own verses or
inscriptions, or to hunt up appropriate quotations. The same lines or
words appear fastened beneath, or printed upon, the book-plates of many
different persons; in the latter case the book-plate is generally little
more than a name ticket. Here is one, composed early in this century,
which could be bought of C. Talbot, at 174 Tooley Street, and on it the
purchaser could write his name before affixing it in his volumes:--
'THIS BOOK
BELONGS TO
. . . . . . . .
If thou art borrowed by a friend,
Right welcome shall he be
To read, to study, not to lend,
But to return to me.
Not that imparted knowledge doth
Diminish learning's store;
But Books, I find, if often lent,
Return to me no more.
Read slowly, Pause frequently,
Think seriously,
Keep cleanly, return duly,
With the corners of the leaves not turned down.'
Of about the same date is another little effusion, which clearly does
not contemplate the purchaser being the possessor of a _unique_ volume,
or of one for any cause irreplaceable, if lost:--
'THIS BOOK BELONGS TO
. . . . . . . . . .
Neither blemish this book, nor the leaves double down,
Nor lend it to each idle friend in the town;
Return it when read, or, if lost, please supply
Another as good to the mind and the eye.'
In these last quoted examples are certainly many stipulations, but they
are as nought when compared with what we find on the book-plate of the
Cavalier Francesco Vargas Macciucca, who was in the habit of pasting on
the fly-leaf of the book, opposite his book-plate, _fifteen_ rules,
written in Latin, to be observed by those who borrowed books from his
library. If he enforced them, he can have been seldom troubled with a
borrower!
On the face of them,--since most of them have a blank space left for the
owner's name, etc.,--these poetic or prosaic threats against
book-stealers and the ill-usage of books do not pretend to be the
compositions of those that used them. Jones or Brown went to the nearest
stationer or bookseller, and purchased his admonitions all ready
composed. But even after the introduction of ready-made admonitions, we
find the man of independent mind rebelling against saving his library
from spoliation by anybody's words save his own. Such a person was Mr.
Charles Clark, of Great Totham Hall, near Witham, in Essex, who can at
least claim originality for his composition, which, if lengthy, has
occasional gleams of humour. Here it is:--
'A PLEADER TO THE NEEDER WHEN
A READER
As all, my friend, through wily knaves, full often suffer wrongs,
Forget not, pray, when it you've read, to whom this book belongs.
Than one Charles Clark, of Totham Hall, none to 't a right hath better,
A _wight_, that same, more _read_ than some in the lore of old _black_
letter;
And as C. C. in _Essex_ dwells--a shire at which all laugh--
His books must sure less fit seem drest, if they're not bound in
_calf_!
Care take, my friend, this book you ne'er with grease or dirt besmear
it;
While none but awkward _puppies_ will continue to "dog's-ear" it!
And o'er my books, when book-"worms" "grub," I'd have them understand,
No marks the margin must de-_face_ from any busy "_hand_"!
Marks, as re-marks, in books of Clark's, whene'er some critic spy
leaves,
It always him so _waspish_ makes though they're but on the _fly_-leaves!
Yes, if so they're used, he'd not de-_fer_ to _deal_ a fate most meet--
He'd have the soiler of his _quires_ do penance in a _sheet_!
The Ettrick _Hogg_--ne'er deem'd a _bore_--his candid mind revealing,
Declares, to beg a _copy_ now's a mere pre-_text_ for stealing!
So, as some knave to grant the loan of this my book may wish me,
I thus my book-_plate_ here display lest some such _fry_ should _dish_
me!
But hold!--though I again declare with-holding I'll not brook,
And "a _sea_ of trouble" still shall take to bring book-worms to "book."
'C. C.'
A certain Cheshire clergyman, who died not very long since, sought
euphony in a string of commands to intending borrowers, which he had
printed on his book-plate; 'Borrow bravely; Keep carefully; Peruse
patiently; Return righteously.' What a pity he did not spell 'carefully'
with a 'k' whilst he was about it!
The Plymouth architect and author, George Wightwick, or, as he evidently
pronounced it, _Witick_, used to affix in his books:--
'To whomsoever this book I _lend_
I _give_ one word--no more;
They who to _borrow_ condescend
Should graciously _restore_.
And whosoe'er this book should find
(Be't trunk-maker or critick),
I'll thank him if he'll bear in mind
That it is mine,
GEORGE WIGHTWICK.'
See, too, how a certain Mr. Charles Woodward protected, or thought he
protected, the volumes which good nature may have prompted him to lend.
His plate shows an opened volume, on one page of which is written:
'Narrative--promising to send me home at the appointed time. Finis.'
Evidently Mr. Woodward, like the honest liar before mentioned, was not a
man to lend his volumes for an indefinite period.
Having quoted various recent English examples of this kind, we are in
duty bound to cite some from other component parts of the United
Kingdom.
Under the name 'H. Macdonald' we find:
'Tear not, nor soil not;
Read all, but spoil not.'
'A good book is a good friend; he who would injure the
one deserves not the respect of the other.'
There is something almost pathetic in the exclamation which Mr. John
Marks makes his volumes utter: 'Gentle reader, take me home; I belong to
John Marks, 20 Cook Street, Cork'; and then the evil-minded borrower is
reminded of the scriptural condemnation of his kind by reference to
'Psalm xxxvii. ver. 21.' Before this comes--
'ADVICE FOR THE MILLION
Neither a borrower or a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
True for you, Mr. Shakespeare!
MORAL
Of all books and chattels that ever I lent,
I never got back five-and-twenty per cent.
Fac, my Bredern!'
We may presume from this that Mr. John Marks tried to be funny, and from
his composition getting into print he may flatter himself that he
succeeded.
One more example of these warnings to borrowers and we have done with
the subject. Lord De Tabley fixes the date of it as 1820, but surely it
must be the composition of some eleventh century reprobate, who on his
death-bed richly endowed a neighbouring monastery, and threatened any
one who should ever disturb his endowment. The words appear on the
book-plate of O. M[oore], and they read in translation: 'If any one
steals this book, and with furtive hand carries it off, let him go to
the foul waves of Acheron, never to return.'
Now, let us look at some of the eulogies of books or of study which are
found on book-plates. These do not appear until a much later date. The
text on Pirckheimer's book-plate, '_The fear of the Lord is the
beginning of wisdom_,' can hardly be called one in praise of study,
though it is a wholesome truth that should be borne in mind by every
student. Indeed, we have to pass over more than two centuries after the
invention of book-plates before one which, in the inscription upon it,
yields an example of the kind now under consideration. This appears at
last in 1697, in a sentiment expressed by an Austrian lawyer, John
Seyringer by name. Here it is:
'He that would learn without the aid of books
Draws water in a sieve from running brooks.'
We have again to pass over many years for our next example. Peter de
Maridat, who was, he tells us, a senator in the Great Council of Louis
XIV. of France, used for a book-plate, which may therefore be dated
before 1715, the figure of a negro, who stands with one hand resting on
a shield of arms, and holds in the other a pair of scales. The arms on
the shield are azure, a cross argent, and below is written:
'Inde cruce hinc trutina armatus regique deoque
Milito, Disco meis hæc duo nempe libris,'
which may be construed: 'Armed on one side with the cross [the cross on
the shield], and on the other with the pair of scales, I fight for my
king and for my God. These two things I indeed learn from my books,'
_libris_; but _libris_ may also be translated 'balances,' and herein is
the pun!
Taking them chronologically, our next examples are on English
book-plates; one is dated 1730, and the other evidently belongs to the
same period. On the first, the Rev. John Lloyd writes: 'Animus si æquus,
quod petis hic est'; and on the other, Thomas Robinson, a Fellow of
Merton, quotes from Cicero: 'Delectant domi non impediunt foris.'
Perhaps 'Herbert Jacob, Esq. of St. Stephen's, in Kent,' had a generally
troublesome wife, who did not penetrate the sacred region of his
library; however it may have been, he placed on his book-plate, _circa_
1740: 'Otium cum libris,' a sentiment expressed in a great variety of
ways on later book-plates.
Some ten years later than the last example is the book-plate of a German
cleric, Gottfried Balthazar Scharff, Archdeacon of Schweidnitz, a town
in Prussian Silesia, on which his books are praised in some not
ungraceful verses; in these the owner asks divine help in understanding
aright the teaching of his volumes.
On the Flemish book-plate of Lewis Bosch (spoken of elsewhere in this
volume, p. 218), we read beneath the representation of the prelate's
library, in which he is shown hard at work among his books: 'A hunt in
such a forest never wearies.' The allusion to a forest of books recalls
the motto on the much later English book-plate of Mary Berry. On this is
depicted a wild strawberry plant, its fruit half hidden by leaves, and
below is written, 'Inter folia fructus.' Probably Miss Berry, besides
alluding to the fruit of knowledge which she found amongst the leaves of
her books, intended a mild play upon the strawberry and her own family
name.
Besides these, a host of further mottoes in praise of books or about
books are to be met with. Some recommend the collection of as large a
library as possible; others point out that the mind is distracted by a
multitude of books; some advocate the careful handling of a volume, even
at the expense of not getting so well acquainted with its contents;
whilst others tell us that well-thumbed books are monuments of the
owner's industry and constant study. Nor are the consoling powers of
books forgotten. On a very pretty rustic vignette, executed by Bonner
after Bewick, 'W. B. Chorley of Liverpool' has the words: 'My books, the
silent friends of joy and woe.'