THE name of FranÇois Rabelais, priest, doctor, wit, satirist, and philanthropist, eclipses all other early French writers. In “Les Portraits de Rabelais” (1880), M. Georges d’Albenas asserted that a certain Professor C. Cavalier possessed an Aldine Plato in which was a piquant ex-libris of the illustrious Rabelais, of undoubted authenticity.

It is singular that such an assertion, made so long ago, should have received so little attention. Could it have been verified, the plate would certainly be one of the most precious relics in the world, not only as a personal souvenir of the creator of Gargantua and Pantagruel, but as the very earliest known French ex-libris.

As Rabelais died in 1553 his book-plate would necessarily be at least twenty years earlier than that of Alboise of Autun, which is dated 1574, and probably even some years older than that.

But in the earlier edition of this treatise, I remarked that it was scarcely credible that such a treasure as this could exist without having become generally known to collectors of literary curios, who would, long ere now, have fully described the book-plate of FranÇois Rabelais.

This paragraph was noted by several French collectors, and more particularly by Doctor L. Bouland, President of the French Society, who at once put himself in communication with M. Georges d’Albenas.

His reply showed that this was only another instance of the confusion that arises from the French custom of styling the written inscription of an owner’s name in a book, an ex-libris. Technically the term may be correct, but it would be advisable in the interest of collectors to describe the one as the “owner’s autograph” to distinguish it from the engraved or printed ex-libris fastened on the inside of a book.

M. d’Albenas wrote thus: “L’Ex-libris de Rabelais dont il est question, en note, dans Les portraits de Rabelais, est ecrit de la main de l’illustre auteur de Gargantua, sur le titre d’un exemplaire de la premiÈre Édition des ‘Œuvres de Platon,’ publiÉe par les soins rÉunis de Marc Manuce et d’Alde Manuce 1513.

M. le professeur Cavalier ayant lÉguÉ sa riche bibliothÈque et ses prÉcieuses collections À Montpellier, sa ville natale, elles ont ÉtÉ rÉunies selon ses dispositions testamentaires dans une salle spÉciale, portant son nom, par les soins de son ami et exÉcuteur testamentaire, votre serviteur.”

Here, then, is a facsimile of this famous inscription, partly in Latin, partly in Greek, which is said to signify “Belonging to FranÇois Rabelais, a zealous doctor, and to his Christian friends.”

Plainly an anticipation of the “Io: Grolierii et amicorum.”

Another signature of Rabelais exists in a book which was presented to the school of medicine of Montpellier in 1776 by a lawyer, one Mons. J. Grosley. This resembles generally the one already described.

The name of Jean Grolier is one of the earliest and most famous in the history of French Bibliolatry and Bibliopegy. Jean Grolier, Vicomte d’Aguisy, was born in 1479 in Lyons, and died in Paris on October 22nd, 1565. He was treasurer of France, and collected a library of about 3,000 volumes (an enormous number in those early days of printing), all of which he had sumptuously bound, and generally with the Grolier arms richly emblazoned on the sides. His books had also various mottoes on them, sometimes written in his own hand on blank pages or on the title, sometimes printed in letters of gold around the edges of the binding.

The most usual of these mottoes is one that is constantly referred to, and has been often borrowed by other book-lovers and collectors:

Others that occur are:

Io: Grollierii et amicorum reads as a very pretty and unselfish sentiment, but it requires some explanation. Mons. Grolier did not allow his treasured volumes to leave his possession. Those who were privileged to enjoy his friendship, were permitted to consult his books; they had no choice, however, but to do so in the spacious salons of Mons. Grolier, after partaking of his hospitality.

On the death of Grolier, in 1565, his valuable collection became the property of Emeric de Vic, Keeper of the Seals, from whom it passed to his son. On his death, this library, which had been the pride of three generations of book-lovers, was sold and dispersed in 1676. Some of the principal books came into the possession of such well-known collectors as Paul Petau, de Thou, and the Chancellor P. SÉguier; they have been well preserved till the present day, but they contain no book-plates belonging to Grolier.

Paul Petau was a councillor in the Parliament of Paris. He formed the nucleus of a library, rich in early French and Latin MSS., and was also an enthusiastic collector of coins and antiquities. On his death, in 1613, he left the whole of his collections to his son Alexander, who not only succeeded to his public offices, but also inherited his cultivated tastes for art and literature.

Paul Petau had his books handsomely bound, with his arms stamped on the sides. His arms are thus emblazoned by French heraldists: EcartelÉ: au 1 et 4, d’azur, À 3 roses d’argent, au chef-d’or chargÉ d’une aigle issante ÉployÉe de sable; au 2 et 3, d’argent, À la croix pattÉe de gueules. Devise: Non est mortale quod opto.

It will thus be seen that the arms are precisely the same as those carried by his son Alexander on his book-plate, the motto alone being changed in the latter to “Moribus Antiquis.”

M. Poulet-Malassis makes a curious misstatement in describing this ex-libris, for he asserts that the shield bears quarterly the arms of Alexander Petau and of his wife. It may be that M. Poulet-Malassis intended to say the arms of Paul Petau and of his wife, for Paul, the father, certainly carried these arms, as did Alexander afterwards, with the statement that he was the son of Paul. Now Paul Petau could not have carried the arms of his son’s wife.

The shield rests on a mosaic pavement, on which are reproduced in alternate squares the three principal charges, namely, the eagle issuant, the three roses, and the cross pattÉe (see plate, page 69).

On the death of Alexander Petau his MSS. were purchased by Queen Christina of Sweden, who bequeathed them to the Vatican Library. His printed books were sold at the Hague in 1722, with those of FranÇois Mansart. “Catalogue des bibliothÈques de feu M.M. Alexandre PÉtau, conseiller au Parlement de Paris, et FranÇois Mansart, intendant des bÂtiments de France.” La Haye, A. de Hondt, 1722.

Had the king of France himself desired a new book-plate he could scarcely have been provided with one more gorgeous or imposing than that engraved by Daudin, in 1702, for Michel BÉgon. Although according to its date it must be classed as an eighteenth century plate, its style belongs to an earlier period, as indeed, properly speaking, did its owner, for he was born at Blois on December 26, 1638, so that he did not have this sumptuous ex-libris engraved till comparatively late in his life, and did not long survive to enjoy it, for he died on the 14th of March, 1710.

The arms (blazoned thus by French heraldists: d’azur au chevron d’or, accompagnÉ en chef de deux roses, et d’un lion en pointe) on an oval shield surmounted by the coronet of a count, supporters two lions. Inscription: Michaeli Begon et amicis 1702.

Here we have at once a plate remarkable for its beauty, and interesting on account of its owner, who was a man of note in his day, and famous as a collector.

He was thus described in the official registration of his death: “Messire Michel BÉgon, chevalier, seigneur de la PicardiÈre et autres lieux, conseiller du Roy en ses conseils et d’honneur au Parlement de Provence. Intendant de Justice et finances de la GÉnÉralitÉ de la Rochelle et de la Marine À Rochefort.”

Mons. BÉgon came of good family, was well educated, and appears to have been very successful in his career as a government official. He held appointments successively at Martinique, San Domingo, and Marseilles, and finally, in 1688, was appointed Intendant de la Rochelle of the port of Rochefort, which post he held for the rest of his life. On the death of his father, he had succeeded to a valuable library which he continued to enrich; he was also an indefatigable collector of medals, of natural history specimens, and of engravings, especially portraits.

From an inventory made after his death, it appears he left 7,000 volumes, and more than sixty valuable manuscripts of the ancient classics. His collection of prints, which comprised about 8,000 portraits, 15,600 general engravings, and 925 maps, was valued at 16,481 livres, and was acquired for the library of the King of France in 1770.

Michel BÉgon was therefore a man worthy to possess a really handsome book-plate such as his was, but we may take it that the expression “for his friends” (et amicorum he wrote on some of his books) did not imply they were to be removed from his custody, but only that they might be consulted by his friends when they visited him, as we know was the intention of Grolier who also used this apparently self-denying expression.

It may be added that in the “Biographie Universelle” (De Feller, Paris, 1834), a short account is given of Michel BÉgon, in which it is said: “Le goÛt avait presidÉ au choix de ses livres dont la plupart portaient sur le frontispice Michaelis Begon et Amicorum.”

It is therefore somewhat singular that no mention of him, or his arms, occurs in the “Armorial FranÇais” of Johannis Guigard. This is to be regretted, as it renders it difficult to trace in what way the family of BÉgon and the old French family of Chapuy were related. That some kind of relationship existed can scarcely be doubted; in view of the following application received from Mr. Charles J. Shoppee, President of the Surveyor’s Institution, and Vice President of the Ex-Libris Society:

“I am anxious to know something of the origin of the armorial bearings of Michael BÉgon, 1702, the coat being the same as that of Chapuis of DauphinÉ, viz., ‘D’azur au chevron d’or, accompagnÉ de deux roses d’argent en chef, et en pointe, d’un lion rampant, de mÊme.’ These arms I bear, as the representative of the branch of the Chapuis family settled in England.”

Amongst a list of the French officers taken at the battle of Oudenarde, July 11th, 1708, “Of the regiment of dragoons of Pouriere, Lieutenant Chapuy” is recorded. This officer was the ancestor of Mr. C. J. Shoppee.

Nicolas Joseph Foucault was a councillor to the Parliament of Paris, and a member of the AcadÉmie des Inscriptions et Belles-lettres. He died in 1720, aged seventy-seven, leaving a library which was considered particularly rich in relation to the early history of France. Unfortunately it was dispersed on his decease, and his ex-libris given herewith is consequently scarce. It was probably engraved between about 1680 and 1700, and carries the same arms as were embossed on the bindings of his books.

It would perhaps be more interesting to know the name of the artist who designed this beautiful plate for Mr. de Joubert, than who and what Mr. de Joubert himself was. Unfortunately the plate is not signed, but it is in the style of the Louis XV. period, and was probably the work of some artistic engraver in the south of France.

The date of the plate can only be approximately fixed on the following train of reasoning. Mr. de Joubert styles himself “Tresorier des Etats de Languedoc;” now on reference to an old French work, somewhat similar to a Court Guide, we find a mention of this gentleman.

In “L’Etat de la France,” published in Paris in 1749, his name is given as PrÉsident des Chambres des Comptes de Languedoc, with the date of his appointment, thus:

It thus appears that Joubert was alive in 1749, and still holding the high office in the provincial treasury to which he was appointed in 1733; the date of his plate may therefore be assumed to have been not earlier than 1733, and in all probability it was not much later.

In this entry he is called Chevalier, which accounts for the De on the book-plate. This is an instance of the difficulties a collector has to contend with in deciding the period of undated plates, especially where the artist has not signed his work.

Mons. Gueulette was a French novelist and dramatist, who enjoyed considerable fame in the first half of the last century. He died in December, 1766, at the ripe old age of eighty-three years, and his writings have since sunk into undeserved oblivion, although, it is true, Messrs. Nichols published a translation of his “Contes Tartares” (an imitation of the “Arabian Nights”) in 1893, but of this only a small edition was printed. His book-plate, signed H. Becat, is inscribed “Ex libris Thomae Gueulette et Amicorum.” It represents the Gueulette arms, with two supporters on each side, namely, an Italian Arlequin, a Tartar, a Chinese Mandarin, and a Cyclops holding an infant in his arms. Each of these figures has some reference to the works of the owner of the plate; thus, the Arlequin is in allusion to the numberless farces he wrote for the ThÉÂtre Italien and the ThÉÂtre des Boulevards; the other works alluded to are his “Contes Tartares” and “Les Aventures du Mandarin Fum Hoam.” The design is surmounted by a graceful little Cupid bearing aloft a scroll, on which is inscribed the epicurean motto “Dulce est desipere in loco,” which has been thus happily translated by a distinguished member of the Sette of Odd Volumes:

M. Gueulette was a worthy disciple of Horace, for more than eighty years he enjoyed the work, the pleasures, and the success of life; he accumulated a large and valuable library, and his books were probably the first to be decorated with a book-plate bearing not only the arms of their owner, but also allegorical allusions to his tastes and literary labours.

M. Gueulette had a second and smaller plate, signed Bellanger; this was similar in its general features, but different in many of its details to the above.

The AbbÉ Joseph-Marie Terray, Controller-General of Finance under Louis XV., was one of those men who, by their cruel exactions, dissolute living, and reckless expenditure, were directly responsible for the ruin of French credit and for the great Revolution which ensued. Terray was born at Boen in 1715, and died in Paris in February, 1778, almost universally hated and despised. It is true that he had collected a handsome library, that his books were sumptuously bound, and that he had a reputation as a patron of art and letters. But holding many highly paid sinecure offices, and being the proprietor of rich ecclesiastical livings (not to mention the gross jobbery he exercised in the state finances), he could well afford to buy expensive books and to employ a few bookbinders. History records no other good trait in the character of this priestly financier, who was both physically and morally ugly, depraved, and rapacious.

Was it for him that this epitaph was written?—

The game cock was a favourite emblem with the ancient Greeks and Romans, on account of its courage and endurance. “The gait of the cock,” writes Pliny, “is proud and commanding; he walks in a stately stride, with his head erect and elevated crest; alone, of all birds, he habitually looks up to the sky, raising at the same time his curved and graceful tail, and inspiring terror even in the lion himself, that most intrepid of animals.” He will fight to the death, and use his last breath to crow out a defiance, whilst the conqueror, standing over his vanquished rival, will flap his wings and loudly proclaim his victory.

For many ages the game cock, as brave and noble a bird as any that lives, was the badge of our Gallic neighbours:

Besides being a national emblem, many ancient and noble French houses bore a cock on their shields. There were cocks “cantant,” holding up their heads with opened beaks, as though they were crowing, and cocks “hardy,” which stood on one leg with the other aggressively uplifted. Louis-Philippe, on being made King of the French, adopted the bird standing in this warlike attitude, a circumstance which did not escape the attention of the Legitimist opponents of the bourgeois king. Shortly after his accession a biting satire was circulated in anti-Orleanist society. It set forth how the noble Gallic cock, raking in the dunghill, had scratched up King Louis-Philippe, who, in exulting gratitude, had placed the bird in the arms of France. Be this as it may, the Gallic cock held his place on the escutcheon of the Orleanist dynasty until the events of 1848 compelled Louis-Philippe to escape to England under the assumed name of Mr. Smith.

M. Gambetta carried this bird, in the act of crowing, on his book-plate, with an equally gallant motto, “Vouloir c’est Pouvoir,” but we seek in vain to learn of what was composed the library of Gambetta. This is a mystery! It may be readily surmised that he had not many of the tastes of a bibliophile, nor time in which to indulge them. As to the plate itself, the design was probably suggested by Poulet-Malassis, and it was engraved by M. Alphonse Legros about 1874, when that artist was commissioned by Sir Charles Dilke to go to Paris to procure a portrait of M. LÉon Gambetta.

Proof impressions of the plate exist in four states, all very rare; but the curious feature about it is that M. Gambetta certified in 1882 that he had never made use of it as a book-plate, and when in May, 1895, Dr. Bouland obtained the loan of the original copper to publish in the “Archives de la SociÉtÉ FranÇaise,” he found it had scarcely been used. So that the numerous copies of the Gambetta book-plate scattered about must be looked upon as forgeries.

The book-plate of another distinguished Frenchman, Victor Hugo, is also somewhat of a puzzle.

It has been reproduced in nearly every illustrated article that has been printed on French ex-libris, with its towers of the cathedral of Notre Dame illuminated by the flash of lightning carrying his name:

On what occasion can M. AglaÜs Bouvenne have designed this celebrated book-plate, seeing that at the time of his death the library of Victor Hugo consisted of less than fifty volumes?

The history is a somewhat curious one.

As is well known, Victor Hugo was an implacable enemy of Napoleon III., and during his reign resided in Guernsey. Wishing to pay his great countryman a compliment, Mons. AglaÜs Bouvenne designed this plate, the towers of Notre Dame being introduced not only to remind Hugo of his beloved Paris, but also in allusion to his famous novel.

On the 10th July, 1870, Victor Hugo wrote from Hauteville House to thank the artist for the plate: “Votre ex-libris fait par vous pour moi me charme—j’accepte avec reconnaissance cette jolie petite planche.... Votre ex-libris marquera tous les livres de la BibliothÈque de Hauteville House.”

But the great war came, the downfall of the Empire, the return of Victor Hugo to Paris, and amidst so much change and excitement the poor little ex-libris appears to have been neglected. After the poet’s death forgeries of it flooded the market, and many unwary collectors purchased worthless copies.

At length Mons. AglaÜs Bouvenne, who possessed the original copper, allowed prints of it to be taken to be issued with the “Archives de la SociÉtÉ FranÇaise des Collectionneurs d’Ex Libris” for June, 1895, together with a facsimile of Victor Hugo’s letter of thanks above quoted.

It should be noticed that the original plate is signed AglaÜs Bouvenne del et sculp. 70 (for 1870), and although it may please collectors to possess a copy of this ex-libris, they must not assume, when purchasing one, that it ever was in the possession of the great poet himself.

M. Bouvenne also designed a plate, dated 1872, for the late novelist and dramatist ThÉophile Gautier, enshrining his monogram on the entablature of an Egyptian temple, but in this case he had to deal with a veritable lover of books, who possessed a library of some importance, which was sold, after his death, at the HÔtel Drouot. A catalogue was issued describing the books, but, although they were mostly in good condition, and bore the book-plate of a man somewhat famous in his day, they realized but a small sum under the hammer.

Of the Comte d’Orsay, at one time the leader of fashion, the Prince of Dandies, and the associate of the lovely but unfortunate Lady Blessington, there is little to be said, nor would that little be complimentary.

On page 38 is the tiny little plate of Paul Lacroix, better known, perhaps, as the bibliophile Jacob, whose writings have done so much to popularize the study of the manners of the Middle Ages, and the progress of civilization in France.

The two naked little gamins are gazing at the P.L. on the open volume, illuminated by a lamp of ancient Greek design. The motto runs, “Livres nouveaux, livres vielz et antiques, Etienne Dolet.”

Mons. Paul Lacroix was appointed curator of the Library of the Arsenal in 1855, where he died a few years ago.

The Vicomte de RougÉ, who died in 1873, was a famous Egyptologist, whose translations from the papyri and inscriptions on the Egyptian monuments were considered of the highest philological value. In 1860 M. de RougÉ was installed in the chair of Egyptology in the College of France, where for some years he expounded the principles of careful analysis, upon which his own successful studies had been based. He left a son, who shared his father’s enthusiasm for research, and was also a frequent contributor to the “Revue ArchÉologique.”

The device of Ferdinand de Lesseps was a Hercules with the motto “Aperire terram gentibus,” in allusion to his great work on the Isthmus of Suez. He did not then foresee his defeat and ruin in the Panama Canal.

The Comtesse de NoË possesses a name which permits her to represent the prehistoric ark as a kind of rebus; whilst Mons. EugÈne Jacob, notary of Angerville, possesses a small ex-libris, designed by his nephew, Mons. MÉtivet, which represents a Jacob’s ladder crowded with book-loving angels.

Albert Tissandier, the learned aËronaut, proclaims his specialty on his circular book-plate, which shows an inflated balloon soaring aloft to the realms of thought and ideality.

Whilst Prince Roland Bonaparte, who possessed one of the largest and most valuable libraries of modern collectors, was content to use nothing more elaborate than the Napoleonic eagle.

One of the most interesting and also one of the scarcest book-plates of modern French men of letters is the tiny ex-libris of Prosper-MÉrimÉe, whose library was burnt during the troubles of the Commune in 1871.

It is, as nearly as possible, the size of a penny postage-stamp, but it was designed and engraved by no less a man than Viollet Le Duc. The Gothic letters P. M. are surrounded by a scroll in the shape of a horse-shoe, with the opening directed upwards. The motto, in Greek, may be thus translated, “Do not forget to doubt.” Here, too, is the unpretentious plate of the bibliophile Jacob, with angels bringing him his favourite volumes; whilst that of Charles Monselet, the author, has been inserted already in the chapter on punning plates.

A well-known plate is that designed by Gavarni for the brothers Edmond and Jules de Goncourt, and engraved by Jules de Goncourt himself. These brothers have written much on French art, and, in allusion to their literary partnership, the plate shows a sheet of paper on which are the letters E. J. held down by the two outstretched fingers of a hand. The design is at once simple and striking, but it has the great demerit of not proclaiming its owner’s name, which is, after all, the raison d’Être of a book-plate.

I cannot conclude this short chapter on distinguished plate-owners better than by giving the Japanesque ex-libris of Octave Uzanne, who has not only produced many charming volumes, the delight of all book-lovers, but is also himself an enthusiastic collector of ex-libris, and a writer of authority on their history.

In this plate the exigencies of space have compelled the artist, M. AglaÜs Bouvenne, to so divide the name that it reads as though M. Uzanne were in the act of courteously saluting himself!

Well, why not? Ave Uzanne!