“ HONOUR a physician with the honour due unto him for the uses which ye may have of him” says the old book, and having considered the plates of those whose duty it is to attend to the cure of souls, we may now briefly consider the ex-libris belonging to the kindred profession whose aim it is to cure the body of all the ills that flesh is heir to.

In many early plates we find doctors are content to describe themselves simply as Doct. Med., but later they displayed ghastly views of dead bodies in dissecting-rooms surrounded by curious students; or sick patients in bed with skeletons beckoning them away.

Such plates may be interesting in a collection, but designs so lugubrious are totally unfit to perform the duties of book-plates even in a library devoted entirely to medical works. What, for instance, can be more incongruous than the plate of Matthew Turner, with its handsome coat-of-arms in a Chippendale frame and the quotation from Cicero: “Salutem hominibus dando,” as compared with its accessories, a grinning skeleton in a cupboard on the left of the shield, whilst below it are several naked little urchins dragging a dead body on to a dissecting-board, a dissecting-saw lies in the foreground, close to the serpent-twined rod sacred to Æsculapius.

Even more curious is the design (wretchedly engraved) on the plate, inscribed J. B. Swett. The owner was Dr. J. Barnard Swett of New Buryport, Mass.; and no doubt the plate was engraved in America about 120 years ago, or even earlier.

Here indeed the ludicrous element comes in, for though the dead body is present, the whole design is so quaintly bad that it is impossible to criticise it with any severity. All the usual emblems of medical science are present in this plate, which was reproduced on p. 289 of Mr. C. D. Allen’s “American Book-plates.”

J. C. Harrer, M.D., also had a skeleton, accompanied by books, pots of ointment, etc., whilst Daniel Chodowiecki, the celebrated engraver, signed a plate, dated 1792, for one C. S. Schinz, Med. Dr., in which the design is of a sensational character, meant to proclaim the healing powers of the owner. “In the foreground (I quote Lord de Tabley, not having the plate myself) Æsculapius is pushing out a skeleton draped in a long white sheet, with a scythe across its shoulder. The god is sturdily applying his serpent-twined staff to the somewhat too solid back of this terrible phantom. Behind, and beneath a kind of pavilion, lies a sick person in bed, his hands upraised in silent thankfulness.”

This Schinz was probably a German, although he might have belonged to the north-east frontier of France, but we will now turn our attention to plates which undoubtedly belonged to French medical men.

Dumont de Valdajou Chirurgien carries arms, perhaps specially granted, for he boldly proclaims below his shield “BrevÉtÉ du Roy,” but even that would not excuse him in the eyes of a strict king of arms for assuming as supporters two angels, a distinction officially reserved for the French Royal family alone.

Another armorial plate is that of Jos. Philip: Grumet; above the shield shows the badge of Æsculapius, an attribute common to many medical book-plates.

But why Dr. Correard should have appropriated not only the general design, but also the actual arms on this shield, is a mystery; indeed, it is not easy to decide which of these two plates is the actual original.

Colin, graveur de feu Roy de Pologne, as he proudly describes himself, engraved a pretty and appropriate little vignette for a chemist of Nancy, Mons. R. Willemet; a reduced copy of this was done for Mons. Soyer-Willemet.

Another plate by the same engraver was done for D. Laflize, also of Nancy. This melancholy design is one of those to which exception has already been taken.

Amongst modern medical plates, that done by Mons. Henry AndrÉ for the Doctor F. BargallÓ of Paris is probably the most striking in its originality, and the most pleasing in its execution.

First of all are the owner’s initials, F. B.: in the B. the whole name will be found; the accent over the “o” is intentional, and indicates the Spanish origin of the name. The professional attributes are the cup and the serpent, whilst the poppy points also to the study of botany, an all-important branch of medical education.

The lighter studies and amusements are indicated in the books, the music, and the portfolio of engravings. The dainty little female figure emerging from the album gives some indication of the date by the style of her costume. There is a strong relation between the motto and the attributes on the design. Thus the wicked books that corrupt youth may be likened to the serpent; silly books that bore one resemble in their effect the sleep-producing power of the poppy; whilst the good books that console and amuse us have an affinity to the powers of a health-giving draught of restorative medicine. Thus, then, we have the venenum, the somnus, the solamen, of the motto. Such is the explanation politely sent me by the owner, which I give, as nearly as a translation can render, in his own words.