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:

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

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.

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.

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.)

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.

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.”

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.”

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.

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.