IN Great Britain political changes have had comparatively little effect upon the development of art, whereas in France the great events of her history have left their impress deeply on her arts, and during the last hundred years especially, nearly every political convulsion (and there have been many) has been rapidly followed by some great change in the fashion of her book-plates. It therefore becomes absolutely necessary to refer to some of the leading features in French history in order properly to appreciate the ex-libris of the various periods.

For the antiquary, the prints produced in France before the Revolution must ever possess the greatest interest, indicating as they do so clearly the tastes, the vanity, the luxury of that beau monde which was the France of those days when the lower orders counted for nothing, being but the hewers of wood, the drawers of water, and the chair-À-canon with which her kings and marshals won glory.

No attempt was made to hide the corruption and immorality which prevailed at Court—the amours of the kings were openly acknowledged, the highest titles were bestowed upon their mistresses, and the royal arms of France were borne by their almost innumerable offspring.

Although some of these women were of the humblest origin they affected a taste for literature and art, and the names of Diane de Poitiers, duchesse de Valentinois; Gabrielle d’EstrÉes; Marie Touchet; la Duchesse de la ValliÈre; la Marquise de Maintenon; Madame de Montespan; la Marquise de Pompadour; la Comtesse du Barry, with many others of lesser note, remind us that they formed extensive libraries. Books bearing their arms and ciphers on the bindings, or their book-plates, are still those most eagerly sought for by collectors of to-day. But what a bagatelle was all this as compared with the vast sums these courtesans drained from the nation, and the degradation they inflicted upon the aristocracy into whose ranks they and their children were elevated. Whilst on the other hand, the arrogance of the old nobility, their selfishness, their cruelty to their dependants, and their refusal to forego any of their pay or privileges in the black days of famine and national bankruptcy towards the close of the eighteenth century, hastened their fall and that of the monarchy.

Sir Walter Scott states that at the outbreak of the Revolution there were about eighty thousand families enjoying all the rights and privileges of nobility; and the order was divided into different classes, which looked on each other with mutual jealousy and contempt.

On this point let us quote the reports of two acknowledged authorities. M. de Saint-Allais, in his book “L’Ancienne France,” observes: “Nos historiens les plus accrÉditÉs ont remarquÉ qu’il existait en France, avant la RÉvolution, environ soixante dix mille fiefs, ou arriÈre-fiefs dont a peu prÈs 3,000 Étaient ÉrigÉs en duchÉs, marquisats, comtÉs, vicomtÉs et baronies, et qu’ils comptaient aussi en ce royaume environ 4,000 families d’ancienne noblesse, c’est-À-dire de noblesse chevaleresque et immÉmoriale, et environ 90,000 familles qui avaient acquis la noblesse par l’exercice de charges de magistrature et de finances ou par le service militaire ou par des anoblissements quelconques.” Whilst in his “Nobles et Vilains,” M. Chassant states: “Il y avait en France, en 1788, au moins 8,000 marquis, comtes, et barons, dont 2,000 au plus l’Étaient lÉgitimement, 4,000 bien dignes de l’Être, mais qui ne l’Étaient que par tolÉrance abusive.”

From these statements it is evident that the number of nobles, or soi-disant nobles, was enormous; that their privileges (many of them grossly immoral) caused them to be extremely unpopular; that to keep up some kind of state and show made them exacting as landlords, whilst the etiquette of their rank prevented them from embarking in any kind of trade or business, so that employments in the Court, the Church, the Army, Law and the Civil Service, were almost entirely monopolized by this class. These offices, though highly paid, were, of course, totally unproductive, and created still further burdens to fall on the shoulders of the overtaxed lower orders.

Nor were the nobles themselves altogether to be envied—many of them were miserably poor, and were yet compelled to support the dignity of their rank, and to appear in state at a court, at once the most splendid and most improvident in the world.

They had not the resources possessed by the poorer scions of the British nobility, who are free now to act as directors of public companies, stock-brokers, wine merchants, or railway managers; who may own collieries, or hansom cabs, or breed cattle without loss of caste or privilege.

As to the king, Louis XVI., he was a man of no decision of character, incapable of reading the signs of the times, or of realizing that the future of the monarchy, of France itself, depended on the reforms required in the State. So little did he appreciate the serious position that when, in 1788, his ministers were discussing where the Etats Generaux (nobles, clergy, and tiers États) should assemble in the following May, Louis suddenly cut short all their arguments by exclaiming that they could only meet at Versailles because of the hunting (À cause des chasses).

At length the storm, which had long been foreseen, burst over their heads, and in less than two years a decree was proposed (on June 20th, 1790) by Lameth, that the titles of duke, count, marquis, viscount, baron, and chevalier should be suppressed. This was carried by a large majority in the French Assembly, and all armorial bearings were abolished at the same time.

When all around was in a state of turmoil and revolution, armorial book-plates became dangerous to their owners. Many were torn out and destroyed, others were altered and adapted to the feelings of the time by changing high-sounding titles into the simple style of a French citizen.

The ex-libris of the Citizen Boyveau-Laffecteur may be cited as an example. Before the Revolution he used an allegorical plate on which was shown a young calf drinking at a fountain (Boyveau); on his shield he carried a stork, as an emblem of prudence and wisdom, and the whole was surmounted by the handsome coronet of a count. Now, Monsieur Boyveau-Laffecteur was a doctor of medicine, and the inventor of useful medical receipts, but whether he ever was a count, or entitled to carry the coronet of one, is more than doubtful. These are minor details, however, for when the Doctor found that coronets, and the heads that wore them, were going strangely out of fashion, he effaced the obnoxious emblem of nobility, placing in its stead an enormous and aggressively prominent cap of liberty. This altered plate is found less frequently than the former; it may be that on the restoration of the monarchy he replaced the coronet, and re-elected himself a count.

Another altered plate is rather less striking in its political inconsistency: “De la BibliothÈque de Nic. Franc. Jos. Richard, avocat en Parlement, PrÉsident À St. Diez.” Simple and inoffensive as was this label, the owner thought it safer during the Revolution to cover it with another, thus: “De la BibliothÈque de Nicholas FranÇois-Joseph Richard, Citoyen de St. DiÉ.”

But a far more interesting souvenir of the Reign of Terror is the second book-plate of the Vicomte de Bourbon Busset.

The first, which is signed “Fme. Jourdan sculp., 1788,” shows his armorial bearings surmounted by his coronet, whilst beneath are enumerated his titles and offices.

Over this plate is generally found pasted a much simpler design, showing how that the grand noble of 1788 under the monarchy had, in 1793, become plain Bourbon Busset, a French citizen.

Now the Vicomte de Bourbon Busset was an aristocrat (even if an illegitimate one), for on his first book-plate he bore the royal arms of France, (debruised by a baton), with the cross of Jerusalem in chief, and his two supporters the angels hitherto carried only by members of the royal family. Yet he managed to escape the horrors of the revolutionary period, and survived the Reign of Terror, probably by studying the signs of the times, and by casting his lot in with the sans-culottes. In any case, he lived in Paris until the 9th of February, 1802. The bindings on his books were stamped with the arms, as on his book-plate, but without the supporters.

His library was sold in Paris; the catalogue was headed, “Catalogue des livres de la bibliothÈque de feu le citoyen Bourbon Busset, 20, nivose an XI.”

Another curious souvenir of the reverses sustained during the revolutionary period exists in the plate of “AndrÉ Gaspard Parfait, Comte de Bizemont-PrunelÉ”. DessinÉ et gravÉ par Ch. Gaucher, de l’Acad. des Arts de Londres, 1781.

In the same year the Comte de Bizemont-PrunelÉ etched an ex-libris for his wife, Marie Catherine d’Hallot, with a design of a somewhat remarkable nature considering the period. He represented himself amongst some ruins carving their arms on a pedestal. Thirteen years later we find this nobleman, a refugee in England, earning his living as a drawing master. His business card, of ornamental design, bears the words: “M. Bizemont, Drawing Master, No. 19 Norton Street, near Portland Street. Bizemont Sc. London, 1794.”

Alexis Foissey, of Dunkirk, removed the coronet from his ex-libris to make way for “Equality”; P. M. Gillet, deputy from Morbihan, adopted the cap of liberty, with the motto, “LibertÉ, EgalitÉ”; and J. B. Michaud, on his plate, dated 1791, also has the Phrygian cap, with a ribbon inscribed, “La LibertÉ ou la Mort.”

Above is the book-plate of Thomas Papillon, Esq., evidently engraved in England within the last century, bearing on the first and fourth quarters the canting arms of the old French family of Papillon (Butterfly).

The last Papillon of whom we read in French history was one Denis-Pierre-Jean Papillon de la FertÉ, intendant des Menus-plaisirs du Roi, who was born in 1727, and guillotined on the 7th of July, 1794, by the Republicans. Probably Thomas Papillon was a relative who managed to escape, or one of his descendants, as the arms are very similar, being thus blazoned by Guigard: D’azur, au chevron d’argent accompagnÉ en chef de 2 Papillons d’or, et en pointe d’un coq hardi du mÊme. The last charge being the only dissimilarity.

A short time since, a collector in Paris purchased a cover on which was a small mean-looking, printed book-label, under which showed the edges of another. On putting the cover to soak no less than three plates were found, the lowest one being as follows; an armorial plate, below the shield “BibliothÈque de Mr. de Villiers du Terrage, Pr. Commis des Finances.” This plate, signed Branche, had been covered during the revolutionary period by a simple typographical label, reading “BibliothÈque du Citoyen Marc-Etienne Villiers,” omitting all titles, and heraldic decorations, substituting the word “citoyen” in their place, and the whole surrounded by plain border lines.

Later on the book passed into other hands, and a still more humble plate was placed upon it, a small label having only the words “BibliothÈque Le Cauchoix Ferraud.” This democratic individual, who suppressed even the word “citoyen” on his label, does not live in history, nor would he have been mentioned here but that his poor little ticket probably saved two interesting plates from destruction.

“Ex libris Rihan de la Forest” with arms and coronet; then over that was a plain label with the simple inscription, “Ex libris la Forest”; that again covered by a lugubrious-looking plate, “Ex libris la Forest,” surmounted by a cap of liberty, on a pike, and “La libertÉ ou la mort” printed around it.

To these many others may be added, such as the ex-libris of “Le Prince de Beaufond,” which was altered to “Charles-Louis Le-prince,” and the elaborate heraldic book-plate of the Marquis de Fortia, which was covered by a simple printed label: “Ce livre fait partie de la bibliothÈque de M. de Fortia d’Urban, demeurant À Paris, rue de la Rochefoucaud (sic), No. 21, division du Mont Blanc.”

M. Pigou covered his arms and coronet of a Marquis with a plain label in which the name Pigou was surrounded by a garland of roses.

But in those troubled times most men of any position had far more serious topics to occupy their minds than the planning of ex-libris for their books, and indeed the poor heraldic engravers found their business coming to an end, and one of them, M. Crussaire, finding himself without work, advertised that he would gladly execute “tout espÈce de sujets sÉrieux ou agrÉables relatifs aux diverses circonstances de la RÉvolution, pour boites, bon-bonniÈres, boutons, medaillons.”

One of the last ex-libris belonging to the period of the First Republic, and carrying republican emblems, is that bearing the name of Adjudant GÉnÉral Villatte, who was promoted to that rank on February 5, 1799. His plate bears the Roman fasces surmounted by the cap of liberty, and, oddly enough for a military man, a shepherd’s crook and hat, whilst two doves, or pigeons, complete this incongruous design.

From 1789 to the coronation of Napoleon I. as Emperor in 1804, the use of book-plates was considerably restricted.

Pauline Burghese, a sister of Napoleon, rose superior to heraldic or titular pretensions. She was a sister of Napoleon, that was enough, and her gift book-plate, dated 1825, is but a plain little label:

EX LEGATO
Sororis Napoleonis
PaullinÆ BurghesiÆ
A.D. MDCCCXXV.

Charles Ambroise Caffarelli, whose plate is in what has been called le style panachÉ de l’Empire, was Canon of Toul in 1789, but took the oath to the Constitution on the outbreak of the Revolution. He suffered imprisonment in 1793, gained favour under Napoleon, who created him a prÉfet. He afterwards devoted himself to the study of political economy, and died in 1826 (after seeing many changes of government), under the rule of the Bourbons, his first patrons.

Jean Baptiste Jourdan, who was one of the most famous marshals of Napoleon’s army, began life as a private soldier; under the First Republic he obtained promotion, and swore that his sword should always be drawn in defence of the rights of the people, and against all kings. Yet he afterwards accepted titles and honours from Napoleon, whom he deserted to serve under Louis XVIII., and issued a manifesto to his soldiers asking their fidelity to the restored Bourbons. For this he was rewarded by being created a Chevalier of the Royal and Military Order of St. Louis. When Napoleon returned to Paris from Elba the MarÉchal Jourdan was again ready to do him service, and his fidelity was rewarded by an imperial decree dated 4 June, 1815, creating him a Count and Peer of France. Jourdan was born at Limoges in 1762; he died in 1833.

The Baron de Marbot was one of the soldiers ennobled by Napoleon I. He left some memoirs which have points of resemblance to those written by the more celebrated Baron MÜnchausen.

THE FIRST EMPIRE.

The short and troubled reign of the Emperor Napoleon left little lasting impression upon the heraldry of France. It is true he introduced some system, and a few innovations, but at the Restoration his innovations were rescinded, and with the Bourbons in power it need hardly be said that no kind of useful system could long exist.

For the heraldry of the First Empire a student cannot do better than consult the fine folios entitled “Armorial GÉnÉral de l’Empire FranÇais. Contenant les Armes de sa MajestÉ l’Empereur et Roi, des Princes de sa famille, des Grands Dignitaires, Princes, Ducs, Comtes, Barons, Chevaliers, et celles des Villes de 1^ere 2^me et 3^me Classe, avec les planches des Ornemens exterieurs, des Signes intÉrieurs et l’explication des Couleurs et des Figures du Blason, pour faciliter l’Etude de cette Science. PrÉsentÉ À sa MajestÉ l’Empereur et Roi par Henry Simon, Graveur du Cabinet de sa MajestÉ l’Empereur et Roi, et du Conseil du Sceau des Titres. Chez l’Auteur, Palais Royal, No. 29 À Paris. MDCCCXII.” The title-page is quoted in full; it is a curiosity in its way, the whole being beautifully engraved on a plate measuring 11½ inches by 8½ inches; all the other plates are of the same size and many hundreds of armorial bearings are accurately engraved and described. The work is a monument of patience and skill, and serves as a record of many princes, nobles, marshals, and generals, whose names and deeds were, during the Napoleonic period, as familiar as household words, but the majority of whom are now almost forgotten.

Napoleon decreed that order should exist in heraldry, as in every other branch of the State. His favourite artist, David, was called in to assist in devising new decorations, head-dresses, etc. The curious head-dress, invented by David to replace coronets, is called in French heraldry “une toque;” this somewhat resembles a flat Tam O’Shanter cap, slightly elevated in front, and, though no longer used, its varieties must be described, as it often occurs on book-plates of the period.

Princes carried a toque of black velvet, with a band around the brim of vair. In front a golden aigrette supported seven ostrich feathers.

Dukes wore the same, simply replacing the band vair by a band ermine.

Counts carried a toque of black velvet, with a band ermine. An aigrette, gold and silver, supported five feathers.

Barons wore the toque with a band counter vair. A silver aigrette supported three feathers.

These were further subdivided and distinguished, so as to show whether the rank was senatorial, military, ecclesiastical, or civil.

Chevaliers carried a black velvet toque with a green band. A silver aigrette with one upright feather.

Further, there were grants of arms for PrÉfets, Sous-PrÉfets, and Maires of towns, whilst the towns themselves were divided into classes, each class having on a chief, or a canton, a distinctive badge.

Thus, cities of the first order, such as Amsterdam, Antwerp, Bordeaux, Brussels, Ghent, Geneva, Hamburg, Lyons, Lille, LiÈge, Montauban, and Paris, bore three golden bees (the Napoleonic badge) on a chief gules, in addition to the arms of the cities here cited, whose names recall the extent of territory over which at one time Napoleon held sway.

Second class towns bore a golden N on a dexter canton azure; and third class towns had a sinister canton gules, on which was a silver N.

Quite recently the French Government conferred the Cross of the Legion of Honour on the town of Belfort, and on Rambervillers, a small place in the Vosges Mountains, as a recognition of the gallant resistance they offered to the Germans in 1870 and 1871. Belfort surrendered only under orders from the French Government, the peace armistice having been concluded. Its garrison left with the honours of war, and, although part of Alsace, it was left to France on account of the indomitable courage of Colonel Denfert-Rochereau (a Protestant of Rochelle), of the garrison, and also of the townspeople, who allowed their houses to be battered to pieces without once speaking of capitulation. The town of ChÂteaudun was “decorated” with the Legion of Honour by Gambetta, having signalized itself by its resistance to the invader, followed by reprisals. Two or three other towns were decorated with the National Order of Knighthood by Napoleon I. in 1815 for heroic resistance to the Allies in 1814. Altogether nine towns in France have the Cross of the Legion of Honour on their coats-of-arms.

Another feature in Napoleonic heraldry was the revival of an ancient ordinary, entitled champagne, occupying a third of the shield in base; it frequently occurs in arms granted under the Empire, but is now obsolete. In fact, on the restoration of Louis XVIII., an ordinance was issued abolishing all the innovations introduced by Napoleon, some of which deserved a better fate.

One of the most delightful traits in the character of the French people is their readiness to laugh at their own little national failings, their vanity, their volatility, and their political instability.

This power to see and appreciate the humorous side of events was never better shown than in a work entitled “Dictionnaire des Girouettes ou nos contemporains peints d’aprÈs eux-mÊmes,” published in Paris, anonymously, but ascribed to the Comte de Proisy d’Eppe.

This little book is at once one of the most comical and one of the saddest ever written, being a kind of biographical dictionary of the political turncoats of the period embraced between the years 1790 and 1815. It contains notices of all the leading Frenchmen of the day, with extracts from their political writings and speeches, more especially those containing allusions, complimentary or the reverse, to the heads of the Government. Now, when we consider that during that quarter of a century France experienced a number of sudden and violent changes in her political constitution, going from the extreme of absolute Monarchy to the utmost licence of Republican liberty, it will easily be recognized that this book contains instances of the most astounding weakness of character and political vacillation ever chronicled.

Starting from 1790, when the Government was Royalist, indeed an absolute Monarchy, in 1792 it became Republican, under the Convention, and later, in 1795, under le Directoire.

1799. The Consulate. Napoleon First Consul.

1804. Imperial. Napoleon Emperor.

1814. Royalist again. Restoration of the Bourbon dynasty, Louis XVIII.

1815. The Hundred Days. Flight of the Bourbons, restoration of Napoleon.

1815, July. Deposition of Napoleon; return of Louis XVIII.

Each of these changes, as it occurred, was hailed with rapturous applause, and with that form of gratitude which consists in a lively sense of favours to come.

Now, as this dictionary contains the names of nearly all the eminent Frenchmen of the period, it follows that there are many in it whose book-plates are of interest, concerning whom a few extracts may be given, taken from the second and enlarged edition, published in Paris in 1815. No month is named, but evidently it appeared soon after the final downfall of Napoleon, as it mentions the marriage of the Turncoat FouchÉ, Minister of Police, in July, 1815, and that the king (Louis XVIII.) signed the marriage contract.

The two plates here introduced (they belonged to Turncoats) show the stiff and formal heraldry of the Empire, and the characteristic toque.

The De Portalis family were rich bankers at Neufchatel in the time of the first Napoleon. This particular member of the family married a Dame d’honneur of the Empress Josephine, and was created a count of the Empire, and an officer of the LÉgion d’Honneur, as is shown by the title and star on his book-plate.

He was associated with the Casimir-Periers in founding the Bank of France, and died enormously wealthy.

His name occurs in the Dictionnaire des Girouettes, but without any special circumstances; he simply accepted favours and titles from whatever hand they came, royal or imperial, with equal condescension.

Now the plate of Ch. Amb. Caffarelli, given on page 121, is a little puzzling; it is evidently of the First Empire period, and bears the toque of a Baron; whilst the second quarter on the shield shows the arms assigned in Napoleonic heraldry to a PrÉfet, namely: “De gueules À la muraille crÉnelÉe d’argent, surmontÉe d’une branche de chÊne du mÊme.” Armorial GÉnÉral de l’Empire FranÇais, 1812.

In the Dictionnaire des Girouettes mention is made of a Caffarelli (no Christian name) who was created a Count of the Empire, and Grand Eagle of the LÉgion d’Honneur by Napoleon. The king afterwards created him Chevalier of the Order of St Louis, and Commandant at Rennes; whilst in 1815 he again reverted to the service of the Emperor. There was also a Baron Caffarelli who bore similar arms, but he was Bishop of Saint Brieux, whilst on this plate no ecclesiastical emblems are shown. He, too, was a member of the LÉgion d’Honneur.

To which of these two this plate belonged I cannot decide, nor is the matter of the first importance.

One plate may be named which forms an exception to the monotonous regularity of the heraldic style under the First Empire; it is that of Antoine-Pierre-Augustin de Piis, a dramatist. His monogram hangs on a palm tree, each branch of which bears the name of some well-known singer,—Panard, Favart, CollÉ, etc., whilst beneath are the titles of the vaudevilles he had himself written. Another artistic little plate of this period is that of M. Dubuisson, dated 1805, on page 130.

Lucien Bonaparte, Prince of Canino, younger brother of Napoleon, resided some time in England, but died at Viterbo in 1840. His son, Charles, Prince of Canino, distinguished as a naturalist, died in 1857, and it is not easy to decide to which of the two this quiet, unpretentious little Canino plate belonged.

The books of the first Napoleon were sumptuously bound, but he used no book-plate. Monsieur L. Joly, in his Ex-Libris Imaginaires, furnishes one such as might well have been used by the great soldier and law-maker. An imperial eagle casts a thunder-bolt, which illuminates the peaks of the Alps; below are seen the emblems of war, the owl, symbolic of wisdom, the Cross of the LÉgion d’Honneur, and the books of the Code NapolÉon.