Book-Plates

By
W. J. Hardy, F.S.A.
SECOND EDITION

London
Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co., Ltd.
MDCCCXCVII

First Edition published 1893 as Vol. II. of 'Books about Books.'

Preface

Having vindicated in my introductory chapter the practice of collecting book-plates from the charge of flagrant immorality, I do not think it necessary to spend many words in demonstrating that it is in every way a worthy and reasonable pursuit, and one which fully deserves to be made the subject of a special treatise in a series of Books about Books. If need were, the Editor of the series, who asked me to write this little hand-book, would perhaps kindly accept his share of responsibility, but in the face of the existence of a flourishing 'Ex Libris' Society, the importance of the book-plate as an object of collection may almost be taken as axiomatic. My own interest in this particular hobby is of long standing, and happily the appearance, when my manuscript was already at the printer's, of Mr. Egerton Castle's pleasantly written and profusely illustrated work on English Book-Plates has relieved me of the dreaded necessity of writing an additional chapter on those modern examples, in treating of which neither my knowledge nor my enthusiasm would have equalled his.

The desire to possess a book-plate of one's own is in itself commendable enough, for in fixing the first copy into the first book the owner may surely be assumed to have registered a vow that he or she at least will not join the great army of book-persecutors—men and women who cannot touch a volume without maltreating it, and who, though they are often ready to describe the removal of a book-plate, even from a worthless volume, as an act of vandalism, do infinitely more harm to books in general by their ruthless handling of them. No doubt, also, the decay of interest in heraldry, which is mainly responsible for the eccentricities of modern 'fancy' examples, has taken from us the temptation to commit certain sins which were at one time attractive. Our ancestors, for instance, may sometimes have outraged the susceptibilities of the heralds by using as book-plates coats-of-arms to which they had no title. Yet their offence against the College of Arms was trivial when compared with the outrage upon common-sense committed by the mystical young man of to-day, who designs, or has designed for him, an 'emblematic' book-plate, or a 'symbolic' book-plate, or a 'theoretic' book-plate, in which the emblem, or the symbol, or the theory, is far too mystical for any ordinary comprehension, and needs, in fact, a lengthy explanation, which, however, I am bound to confess, is always very willingly given by either owner or designer, if asked for.

It is, perhaps, needless to say that I am very far from including all modern book-plates under this condemnation. The names of the artists—Sir John Millais, Mr. Stacy Marks, Randolph Caldecott, Mr. Walter Crane, Miss Kate Greenaway, and others—who have found time to design, some of them only one, some quite a considerable number of really interesting marks of ownership, suffice to rescue modern book-plates from entire discredit. Here and there, too, a little-known artist, like the late Mr. Winter of Norwich, has produced a singularly fine plate. Above all, the strikingly beautiful work of Mr. Sherborn, as seen in the book-plates of the Duke of Westminster, in that of Mr. William Robinson, and in many other fine examples, forms a refreshing oasis in the desert of wild eccentricity. But the most ardent admirer of modern book-plates cannot pretend that amid the multiplicity of recent examples any school or style is observable, and as I have aimed at giving in this little hand-book an historic sketch, however unpretentious, of the different styles adopted in designing book-plates from their first introduction, I hope I may be excused for not having attempted to trace their history beyond the early years of the present century, after which no distinctive style can be said to exist.

As I have said elsewhere, it has been no part of my object in writing my book to advocate indiscriminate collecting. But for those who are already collectors I have one word of advice on the subject of the arrangement of their treasures. Some enthusiasts advocate a chronological arrangement, others a genealogical, others a topographical: and the advocates of each theory paste down their specimens in scrap-books or other volumes in adherence to their own views. Now there is a great deal to be said in favour of each of these classifications: so much, indeed, that no system is perfect which does not admit of a collection being arranged according to one plan to-day and another tomorrow—i.e. no arrangement is satisfactory which is necessarily permanent. Let each specimen be lightly, yet firmly, fixed on a separate sheet of cardboard or stout paper, of sufficient size to take the largest book-plates commonly met with. These cards or sheets may be kept, a hundred or a hundred and fifty together, in portfolios or boxes, which should be distinctly numbered. Each card or sheet should also be paged and bear the number of the portfolio to which it belongs. The collector can by this means ascertain, when he pleases, if all his portfolios contain their proper number of cards or sheets, and he can arrange his specimens according to the particular point of interest in his collection which from time to time he may desire to illustrate. In addition to this, the system of single cards has obvious advantages for the purpose of minute study and comparison.

In conclusion, it only remains for me to express my warm thanks to Lord De Tabley and to Mr. A. W. Franks, C.B.; to the former for allowing me to make use, without oft-repeated acknowledgment, of the matter contained in his Guide to the Study of Book-Plates, a second, and much amplified edition of which we may hope will, before long, make its appearance; to the latter, not only for constant advice and assistance, but also for the loan from his collection of nearly all the book-plates with reproductions of which this volume is illustrated.

W. J. H.

1893.

Preface to the Second Edition

A few words are, perhaps, needed by way of introduction to the present revised and enlarged edition of this work. Some slips of my own have been rectified, and there has been added a considerable amount of additional information, brought to light since 1893; for much of this I am indebted to the researches of Mr. Egerton Castle, Mr. Charles Dexter Allen, Miss Norna Labouchere, and Mr. Walter Hamilton, as well as to Mr. Fincham and various other contributors to the pages of the Ex Libris Journal.

During the three years that have elapsed since the first publication of my book, the ranks of those taking an intelligent interest in book-plates have been largely increased; yet they have suffered some serious losses, and foremost amongst these must be placed the death of Lord De Tabley. That he died ere the completion of the promised new edition of his Guide to the Study of Book-Plates is a matter of sincere regret to every student of the subject; all we can now hope for is that Sir Wollaston Franks—the one man really capable of bringing out a new edition of Lord De Tabley's book—will some day undertake the task.

As before, I have again to express my sincere gratitude to a great number of collectors for the kindly help they have given me; and I must not pass without special thanks the kindness of Mr. Everard Green, F.S.A., Rouge Dragon, for allowing me to illustrate this preface with his own book-plate, designed and engraved for him by Mr. George W. Eve; it is in every way an excellent specimen of modern work in book-plates, being both appropriate and artistic, and, above all, rational.

W. J. H.

St. Albans, 1896.

Contents

List of Illustrations of Book-Plates

BOOK-PLATES

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY

Book-plate collecting, at least in this country, is a thing of yesterday. On the Continent, particularly in France, it attracted attention sufficiently serious to induce the publication, in 1874, of a monograph on French book-plates by M. Poulet Malassis, which in the next year obtained the honours of a second edition. In England, prior to 1880, we had no work devoted to the study; but, in that year, the Honourable J. Leicester Warren—afterwards Lord De Tabley—published A Guide to the Study of Book-Plates (Ex Libris). How little was then generally known about these marks of ownership is shown by the allusions to them—very few in number—that find place in the pages of such publications as The Gentleman's Magazine or Notes and Queries: for that reason, the skilful handling of the subject by the late Lord De Tabley, and his zeal in compiling the treatise, are all the more conspicuous.

One of the most useful works which has yet appeared in the journal of the Ex Libris Society—a society intended to promote the study of book-plates—is a compilation by Mr. H. W. Fincham and Mr. J. Roberts Brown, A Bibliography of Book-Plates, arranged chronologically. A glance at this compilation emphasises the truth of the statement, just made, as to the scantiness of recorded information on book-plates prior to the year 1880; it also shows what a great deal about them has been written since.

Writing to Notes and Queries in 1877, Dr. Jackson Howard, whose collection is now one of the largest in England, says that he began collecting forty years before that date, and that the nucleus of his own collection was one made by a Miss Jenkins at Bath in 1820. It is probably, therefore, to this lady that we should attribute the honour of being the first collector of book-plates, for their own sake. No doubt the collector of engravings admitted into his portfolios book-plates worthy a place there as interesting engravings, for stray examples are often found in such collections as that formed in the seventeenth century by John Bagford, the biblioclast, which is now in the British Museum. No doubt, too, heraldic painters or plate engravers collected book-plates as specimens of heraldry, but this was not collecting them as book-plates—viz. as illustrations of the custom of placing marks of ownership in books, which, I take it, was evidently Miss Jenkins's object.[1]

Still, though little was written on the subject of book-plates prior to 1880, it by no means follows that for some years before that date there had not been a considerable number of persons who took an interest in the subject. The fact is, that the book-plate collector of earlier days was wiser in his generation than are those of his kind to-day. He kept his 'hobby' to himself, and was thus enabled to indulge it economically. My father had a small collection; and I can well remember how, as a boy, I used to help him to add to it. We used to go to a shop in a dingy street, leading off Oxford Street, and there select from a large clothes-basket as many book-plates as were new to our collection. The price was one penny a piece,—new or old, dated or undated, English or foreign, that of Bishop Burnet, or David Garrick, or Mr. Jones, or Mr. Brown,—all alike, a penny a piece; and I have no doubt, though I do not remember the fact, there was the usual 'reduction on taking a quantity.' I think this shop was almost the only one in London where you could buy book-plates at all. Well, those days are past now; and, whilst we regret them, because book-plate collecting is no longer an economical pursuit, we cannot allow our regret to be unmingled with satisfaction. The would-be collector of to-day can, if he pleases, know something about the collection he is undertaking; he can tell when he meets with a good specimen; he knows the points which render any particular book-plate interesting; and he can, at least approximately, affix a date to each example he obtains.

As to the morality of book-plate collecting, I suppose something ought to be said here. There is but one objection to it, but that is, undoubtedly, a serious one: taking a book-plate out of a book means the possible disfigurement and injury of the volume from which it is taken; yet, for the purpose of study and comparison, the removal is a distinct advantage. To confess this seems, at first sight, to bring collecting at all under a sweeping condemnation; and such, indeed, would be the case, were it not for the fact that damage to, or even the actual destruction of, very many books is really a matter of no consequence whatever. Book-plates are found quite as often in the worthless literary productions of our ancestors as in the worthy; and it is puerile to cavil over the removal of a book-plate from a binding which holds together material by the destruction of which the world would certainly not be the poorer. So much for the book-plates in valueless books. As regards those in valuable or interesting ones, it is certainly unwise to remove them at all. This is a golden rule which cannot be too forcibly impressed upon collectors and booksellers. The case does not occur very often; and when it does, the book itself, with the book-plate in it, can be easily fetched and placed beside the 'collection' when needed for comparison. It may happen that the book-plate in this valuable book is interesting from the fact that it belonged to some man of note, or that it is unique; if so, we have only a further reason against taking it out of the volume. The value of a very early book-plate, when preserved in the volume in which it is discovered, is lessened almost to a vanishing point if separated from that volume. Pasted into a book as a mark of ownership, it is an undoubted book-plate; whereas, if taken out and fastened into a collection of book-plates, it at once loses the proof of its original use, so essential to its value and so material to the student of book-plates.

On the other hand, as I have said, there is no harm in removing, from some uninteresting and valueless volume, the book-plate of a famous man. Everybody knows that Bishop Burnet or David Garrick had plenty of what they themselves regarded as 'rubbish' in their libraries; so that Burnet's book-plate in an actually valueless volume does not prove that the Bishop's shrewd eye ever scanned its pages, or that his episcopal hand ever held it. Besides, I know as a fact that it is a not uncommon trick for the possessor of the book-plate of some famous man to affix that book-plate in a worthless volume, and then offer the whole for sale at a price much higher than would be asked or obtained for the book-plate itself, though the value of the book may be nil!

Without quarrelling with the name book-plate,—as applied to the marks of ownership pasted into books,—and without wasting time with discussion of suggestions for a better one, it may be admitted that the word is not altogether happily chosen. It perhaps suggests to the mind of the 'uninitiated' an illustration in a book rather than a mark of possession. But then at the present day there are not many 'uninitiated' amongst either buyers or sellers of books and prints, so that the inappropriateness of the name need not concern us.

As to its antiquity, that is doubtful; but probably one of the earliest instances of its use, in print, occurs in 1791, when John Ireland published the first two volumes of his Hogarth Illustrated. In this work he says that the works of Callot were probably Hogarth's first models, and 'shop bills and book-plates his first performances.' Again, in 1798, Ireland refers to the 'book-plate' for Lambert the herald-painter, which Hogarth had executed. In 1823, a certain 'C. S. B.,' writing in the pages of the Gentleman's Magazine, refers to what 'are generally called' book-plates. His letter was suggested by an article—a review of Thomas Moule's Bibliotheca Heraldica—in the previous number of the magazine, the writer of which was evidently not familiar with the term book-plate as we now apply it, for he calls book-plates 'plates of arms.' We shall see, later on, that this is quite an inappropriate name; some of the most interesting and the most beautiful book-plates have nothing armorial about them.

On the Continent, the term ex libris is generally applied to book-plates. This is, perhaps, even less appropriate than book-plate. It is taken from the two first words of the inscription on a great many book-plates, when the inscription is written in Latin—e.g. 'ex libris Johannis Stearne, S.T.P. Episcopi Clogherensis.' A moment's reflection will show that this inscription is not intended as a declaration by the book-plate (should it ever become severed from the book in which it was fastened) that it came out of a book belonging to Bishop Stearne; but that it is a declaration by the book in which the book-plate is found pasted, that that particular book is from amongst the books of a particular library, and ought to be restored to it. It would be as rational to call book-plates 'libri,' because the inscription on them often begins—as in a very famous German book-plate—'Liber Bilibaldi Pirckheimer.' It may, indeed, be laid down as a general rule, that whatever the sentiment expressed on a book-plate, it is clearly intended to be uttered by the book in which the book-plate is fixed, not by the book-plate itself.

There are but two instances, quoted by Lord De Tabley, of the inscription directly referring to the book-plate. Both are foreign, and date about the middle of the last century. One is Symbolum Bibliothecæ of John Bernard Nack, a citizen and merchant of Frankfort;[2] and the other, Insigne Librorum, etc., quoted from the work of M. Poulet Malassis. Lord De Tabley thinks that the Symbolum of Herr Nack is simply a trade card; but he founds this conclusion on the supposition that Herr Nack was a book-dealer, and that the scene depicted on his book-plate was, in fact, his shop. In my opinion, we have in this book-plate a representation of a portion of Herr Nack's library, in which Minerva(?) is seated, using the books thereof. A gentleman in eighteenth century dress, who may, likely enough, be Herr Nack himself, addresses himself to the goddess, and explains—as he points to the outer scene, which shows us ships and merchandise—that, whilst following his trade as a merchant, he still has time to devote some attention to literature. In any case, these and the few other instances there may be of the inscription referring to the book-plate and not to the book, seem hardly sufficient to make ex libris a good name for book-plates in general.

Our ancestors, of degrees more remote than grandfather, do not appear to have referred to book-plates at all, so we are unable to learn by what name they would have called them. Pepys, in 1668, speaks of going to his 'plate-maker's,' and there spending 'an hour about contriving' his 'little plate' for his books. This 'little plate' still exists, and is a characteristic one; it shows us the initials 'S. P.,' with two anchors and ropes entwined. But we shall speak again of this, and Sam's other book-plates, later on.

SIR THOMAS ISHAM'S BOOK-PLATE, BY DAVID LOGGAN.

David Loggan, a German born, and an engraver of some note, has, in writing to Sir Thomas Isham in 1676, a no more concise name for Isham's book-plate than 'a print of your cote of arms.' Loggan, as a return for many favours, had sent Sir Thomas a book-plate designed and executed by himself. 'Sir,' he says, in the covering letter, 'I send you hier a Print of your Cote of Armes. I have printed 200 wich I will send with the plate by the next return, and bege the favor of your keind excepttans of it as a small Niew yaers Gift or a aknowledgment in part for all your favors. If anything in it be amies, I shall be glade to mend it. I have taken the Heralds painter's derection in it; it is very much used amongst persons of Quality to past ther Cotes of Armes befor ther bookes instade of wreithing ther Names.'

The 'Heralds painter' was, unfortunately, wrong in his treatment of the Isham 'coat,' and so Loggan's work, artistic as it might be, could not be acceptable to Sir Thomas, to whom a mistake in the family escutcheon was no light matter. This he evidently told David, who, a few days after, writes to him again:—

'I ame sorry that the Cote is wronge; I have taken the herald's derection in it, but the Foole did give it wrong.... The altering of the plate will be very trubelsom, and therfor you will be presented with a newe one, wich shall be don without falt, and that very sudenly. And if you plase, Sir, to give thies plate and the prints to your Brothers, it will serve for them.'

These Isham book-plates are really very beautiful pieces of work. A reproduction of one of them may be seen on the foregoing page. This is evidently the one first executed, the omission of the mark of baronetcy—the 'bloody hand of Ulster'—and the helmet of an esquire instead of a knight or baronet clearly constituting the blunder into which Loggan had fallen. By the kindness of Sir Charles Isham, the present baronet, I have been enabled to see a copy of the corrected design sent by Loggan, which is in all respects accurate. This was doing duty as a book-plate in a volume in which it had evidently been placed at the time it was received by Sir Thomas.

Nicholas Carew, afterwards Sir Nicholas Carew, Baronet, records in his accounts, on the 19th February 1707, a payment for his book-plate, which is dated in that year, as follows:—'For coat of arms impressing, 1l. 1s. 6d.;' and a few months later is a payment 'For 300 armes, 7s. 6d.'

'The mark of my books,' is the phrase which Andrew Lumisden applies to the book-plate engraved for him by his brother-in-law, Sir Robert Strange, about the year 1746. The plate is an interesting one, and by an interesting man, of whom we shall speak later on. Lumisden thought well of it, and thus refers to the work in a letter written from Rouen, in June 1748:—'I am very anxious to know if my brother continues his resolution of coming to this country. If he does, I can luckily be of use to him in the way of his business, from the acquaintance I have of a very ingenious person, professor of the Academy of Design here ... I show'd him, a few days ago, the mark of my books, from which he entertains a high notion of Robie's abilities.'

There is a curious advertisement, quoted by Thomas Moule in his Bibliotheca Heraldica, of a certain Joseph Barber, a Newcastle-on-Tyne 'bookseller, music and copper-plate publisher,' who, in 1742, resided in 'Humble's Buildings.' In that year he engraved the 'Equestrian Statue of King James [II.],' which once stood in the Sandhill Market. If a moment's digression be allowed, the history of this statue is worth telling. On 16th March 1685, the Town Council voted £800 for the erection of 'a figure of His Majesty in a Roman habit, on a capering horse, in copper, as big as the figure of His Majesty, King Charles I., at Charing Crosse, on a pedestal of black marble.' A certain Mr. William Larson executed it; Sir Christopher Wren expressed his approval, and everybody was very pleased, for a year or two. But popular feeling soon changed in Newcastle, as elsewhere, and the prevalence of sentiments which threw the king off his throne threw his metal representation into the Tyne, where it rested till fished out to be melted down and used to make a set of church bells. The drawing of the luckless statue was safe in the keeping of Sir Hans Sloane; and from this, Barber made his engraving, which he sold for 5s. The fact that in 1742, three years before the second Scotch rebellion, this Newcastle printseller found it worth while to issue the engraving at all, is not without political significance. With his engraving, Barber issued two large plates of the arms of all the subscribers to it, each coat of arms being 1¾ inches in length, and 1¼ inches in breadth; and a few years later, it seems to have occurred to him that he might turn an honest penny by cutting up these large sheets of the subscribers' arms, so that each coat of arms became a separate plate. Having done this, he issued an advertisement to the subscribers, in which he sets forth that he is 'the sole proprietor of each of their plates,' and is willing to part with it, to the lady or gentleman whose arms are engraved thereon, 'together with one hundred prints of it on a good paper,' for the modest sum of half-a-crown. These plates, suggests Mr. Barber, might be advantageously used as what we now call book-plates, and he continues: 'The design of this proposal is a useful and necessary embellishment, and a remedy against losing books by lending, or having them stolen; by pasting one print on the inside of the cover of each book, you have the owner's name, coat of arms, and place of abode; a thing so useful and the charge so easy, 'tis hoped will meet with encouragement. To have a plate engraved will cost 10s. 6d.'

From all which it may be inferred that Mr. Joseph Barber thought—or wanted other people to think—that the idea of using a book-plate was his own. Newcastle people, in 1743, must have been very unobservant of the habits of their neighbours if they believed Mr. Barber; for the fashion of using a book-plate—which in England came in some forty years before—was by that time general throughout the country. That some of the subscribers accepted the offer, and got their 'hundred plates on a good paper' for half-a-crown, is demonstrated by the existence of copies of the plates published with the 'equestrian statue,' being still found in books, doing duty as book-plates. Very poor productions they are, reflecting but slight credit on the designer or engraver. But what Joseph lacked in art, he atoned for in enterprise; we see this in his ingenious way of getting rid of his old copper-plates, and the postscript to his advertisement demonstrates the fact even more plainly, for on a day near at hand, the advertisement tells us, was to be fought, at a neighbouring cock-pit, 'a Welsh main,' and the prize was to be nothing less than one of the advertiser's engravings, 'a pretty piece of work, worthy the observation of the curious.' If the term book-plate had been known in Barber's day, it would probably have found its way into his advertisement, which is clumsy from the want of a word to express the very thing he is advertising.

William Stephens, who engraved a good many book-plates in his time, could find no better expression than 'print of your arms' to describe the 800 book-plates which, for half-a-guinea, he sent to Dr. Samuel Kerrich, the Shakespearian student, in 1754.

Horace Walpole, again, would, I think, have used the phrase 'book-plate' had he known it. In his Catalogue of Engravers—the edition of 1771—he speaks of George Vertue having engraved 'a plate to put in Lady Oxford's books'; and in his Anecdotes of Painting, he refers to the 'plate' which Hogarth 'used for his books.' One of his own book-plates—that engraved soon after 1791—Walpole describes as his 'seal': Sigillum Horatii Comitis de Orford; but this phrase is, I think, used simply because the book-plate itself is the representation of a mediæval seal. Bartolozzi—giving, in 1796, a receipt for a book-plate which he had just completed—refers to it as a 'ticket-plate' (see [p. 94]); but he was a foreigner, and may not have known the English name for such things, for we have seen that, some five years before, Ireland refers to Hogarth's 'book-plate.' Charles James Fox, in a note, dated at Leicester on 2nd August 1801, speaks of the 'book-plate' of his great-great-grandfather, Sir Stephen Fox.

But, though the phrase 'book-plate' may have been occasionally used at the close of the last century and the beginning of the present, it was then by no means widely used; and although the writer quoted on page 6 refers in 1823 to what are 'generally called' book-plates, William Wadd, in 1827, can find no direct term by which to refer to these marks of ownership. Speaking in Mems., Maxims, and Memoirs, he says: 'In the Library of the Royal College of Surgeons, there are many volumes, formerly the property of the celebrated Douglas, having his arms embellished with various kinds of surgical instruments, which was by no means an uncommon practice, as in the Library of the College of Physicians there are many examples of volumes where the former possessor has not only blazoned his own arms, but borrowed the arms of the college and super-added supporters, as Apollo, Mercury, Æsculapius, and his daughter Hygeia.'

Lord Byron, too, did not, I fancy, know the word 'book-plate' in its now-used sense; writing to a fair admirer, who had apparently designed one of these for him, he says: 'I received the arms, my dear Miss ——, and am very much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken. It is impossible I should have any fault to find with them. The sight of the drawing gives me great pleasure for a double reason: in the first place they will ornament my books, and in the next they convince me that you have not entirely forgot me.'[3]

So the term book-plate is only a century old, and the fashion of collecting book-plates much more modern still; but the use of book-plates is really of respectable antiquity, and is a matter on which we may now appropriately speak. Whether, in the first instance, the use of book-plates was suggested by a desire to commemorate a gift, or as a mark of ownership, seems to be a matter on which a variety of opinions exist. Some of the earliest mechanically produced book-plates are certainly commemorative of gifts (see [p. 114]); but I think we must accept as book-plates, to all intents and purposes, the six fourteenth century examples mentioned by Herr Warnecke in his Die Deutschen Bücherzeichen, an excellent work on German book-plates. These are heraldic coloured drawings on the parchment leaves of Italian manuscripts, which also bear an inscription of possession by the particular individuals whose arms are represented.

But, of course, the real necessity for book-plates, whatever may have been their original use, began when the printing-press gave to the world not two nor three, but a hundred or more copies of a particular book. Then it was that the different owners needed to distinguish their respective copies of a work; for the professional book-borrower, who would gladly have retained the manuscript volume lent to him by an unsuspecting friend, could he have done so without his crime being detected, doubtless saw in the multitude of copies a greater opportunity of carrying out his nefarious designs. The existence of book-plates is, therefore, largely due to the literary enthusiast who amasses a library by retaining volumes received on loan; the inscriptions on some of the earlier book-plates prove this to be so.

The earliest printed book-plates are certainly German, and there is little doubt that some of these are nearly contemporary with the very early printed books on the oak covers of which they may still be found pasted. By the commencement of the sixteenth century book-plates were frequently fine examples of the wood-engraver's art. Albert Dürer himself designed book-plates; and of these, one of the most elaborate and the best known is that of his friend Bilibald Pirckheimer, the Nuremberg jurist, whose portrait he engraved on copper in 1524. The book-plate is still earlier.

England can now—thanks to recent investigations—claim the second place in the chronological sequence of countries in which book-plates have been used. Cardinal Wolsey's book-plate (see [p. 24]) is probably not later in date than 1525. France can boast of a book-plate dated in 1574; Sweden of one dated in the following year, and Switzerland of one in 1607; Italy in 1623: in other European countries, dated examples do not appear, nor does the practice of using book-plates seem to have been adopted until considerably later.

In concluding this opening chapter, let me say a word about the position in a book in which a book-plate should be looked for. The usual place was certainly on the front cover of a volume; sometimes another copy of the same plate was fastened to the back cover; and sometimes—as in Pirckheimer's case, just noticed, and in that of Samuel Pepys (see [p. 216])—the same person would use a different book-plate at the back of the volume to that used at the front. Another plan, less frequent, but by no means uncommon, was to insert the book-plate on the title-page, often on the back of it; and another, to fasten the book-plate into the volume, by pasting its right-hand margin about a quarter of an inch on to the title-page, so that the book-plate would fold over and face it. This is a plan that leads to a book-plate being most easily overlooked.

Collectors should also note that, in many instances, book-plates are found in a variety of sizes; this should certainly be borne in mind when setting aside any particular specimen as a duplicate. In the present day, most people are content to have a book-plate small enough to go into a volume of any size; its dwarfed appearance on the cover of a full-sized folio is no eyesore to them, or, if it is, the pleasure of economy makes them bear with it. But in days gone by it was—especially in Germany—certainly otherwise. The possession of a large library would necessitate, in the owner's mind, the possession of a number of differently sized book-plates, in order to get one which would neither look too small in the largest volume, nor be too large for the smallest! Some of the most noble foreign examples, rich in detail and bold in general effect, are those that belonged to men who liked to have for their folios a book-plate of proportionate size. There are no very large English book-plates, but plenty of library owners in this country had two or three different sized book-plates, and the late Sir William Stirling-Maxwell boasted of over a hundred varieties!

CHAPTER II

THE EARLY USE OF BOOK-PLATES IN ENGLAND

In a short paper, which in 1882 I contributed to the Antiquarian Magazine and Bibliographer, I wrote this passage:—'It is difficult to believe that the general use of book-plates should have been a hundred and fifty years in reaching this country from the Continent; and yet there is rather more difference than that between the date on the earliest-known German example (1516) and the time when English-dated specimens appear at all plentifully. Surely the many English men of letters who amassed large libraries in the sixteenth century, and the first half of the seventeenth, must have possessed book-plates; and yet, where are their book-plates now?

'Many, no doubt, have perished with the bindings to which they were fastened, but some are doubtless still extant; and we may yet hope that, when the interest in these labels becomes more widely diffused, more than one or two specimens will be brought to light, bearing an engraved date sufficiently early to dispel the idea that this country was a century and a half behind its German neighbours in the general practice of using book-plates.'

Mr. Daniel Parsons, who may be properly called the father of book-plate literature,—his contribution, in 1837, to 'The Third Annual Report of the Oxford University Archæological and Heraldic Society,' was certainly the first paper on the subject that ever appeared,—commented on this hope of mine in the number of the same magazine issued in the following January, and was despondent as to evidence being forthcoming to prove the early use of book-plates in England.

Well, in that I expressed the belief that investigation would bring to light a number of sixteenth and seventeenth century dated book-plates, I was perhaps wrong—early English dated book-plates have not been found in anything approaching plenty; but I was also wrong in suggesting that proof of the early use of book-plates in this country could only be proved by dated examples; the existence of examples which, from internal evidence, are proved to be of early date is really equally valuable; and as these have certainly come to light in considerable numbers, I think a good case has been made out on behalf of our fellow-countrymen.

I do not pretend that early English book-plates are so plentiful as those of Germany. Some individual specimens are known to exist; but there are very few that are recorded as existing in more than a few collections, and some are unique. From some cause or other, early English book-plates are a rarity; and I propose, therefore, to speak individually of the majority of them,—that is to say, of those executed prior to the close of the seventeenth century.

But before doing this, let me say a word as to the date at which the colours intended to be shown on the shield of arms were first represented by lines or points. For instance, perpendicular lines from the top to the bottom of the shield, thus:

to express gules—red.

A number of small dots or points, thus:

to express or—gold; and so on.

To whom may be attached the credit of inventing this useful system, matters little; what we are now interested in—for the purpose of considering the approximate dates of book-plates—is the time at which it was first employed in heraldic engravings. Mr. Walter Hamilton, in the pages of the Ex Libris Journal, realises the importance of the subject. He speaks of the work by Father Silvester Petra-Sancta, published at Rome in 1638, in which the proposal is advocated, and refers to M. Henri Bouchot's allusion to a work by Vulsson de la Colombière, written in 1639, which advocates the system.

That, at an earlier date, lines running all in one direction were used only as shading, is shown over and over again. Take, for instance, the book-plate of Francis de Malherbe (reproduced over leaf), which, as the owner died in 1628, was engraved, probably, soon after the opening of the century. In this case we have a statement by De Malherbe that his arms are 'D'argent à six roses de gueules, et des hermines de sable sans nombre,'—a description obviously inaccurate. De Malherbe was a poet, and could no more be expected to describe a coat of arms than 'Garter' could be expected to write a poem. The proper blazoning of his family arms is: ermine, six roses gules. But, according to the lines depicted on his book-plate, the 'field' would be azure: clearly, in this case, the lines mean nothing at all.

The late Mr. J. E. Bailey points out that in the 1562, 1568, and 1576 editions of Gerard Legh's Accedens of Armory, sable (black) is expressed, as it would be now, by horizontal and perpendicular lines crossing each other; whilst the other colours are represented by the initials of their names. It is possible that this form of expressing sable may be merely the result of an attempt on the part of the engraver to produce as dark a tint as possible to represent it. In Vincent's Discovery of Brooke's Errors, 1622, such lines are certainly used as shading, or to distinguish colour from white; but, as shown from his verbal description of the arms he represents, these lines are used without any system whatever, perpendicular lines sometimes representing gules, and sometimes azure. Again, in the second edition of Guillim's Display, 1632, lines are used to denote the darker colours, though they are used without system. But in 1654, we find, in Bysshe's heraldic tracts, gules, azure, sable, and the rest expressed in the now orthodox manner, and an explanatory plate showing what colours are represented by the respective dots or lines, a conclusive proof of the novelty of the system in England. I think the reader will see, as he proceeds, that this has been a useful digression.

BOOK-PLATE OF FRANCIS DE MALHERBE.

We have said that the earliest English book-plate yet come to light is Cardinal Wolsey's. This is not a printed book-plate at all, but a carefully drawn sketch of the Cardinal's arms, with supporters, and surmounted by a Cardinal's hat, the whole coloured by hand. How many of these book-plates the Cardinal possessed, we do not know; but that this—the only example known—is undoubtedly a book-plate, is proved from the fact that it may now be seen in a folio volume which once belonged to Wolsey, and subsequently to his royal master. It bears no date, and may have been designed any time after the minister's elevation to the cardinalate in September 1514. It is a splendid affair in every way, and gorgeously coloured. The shield of arms rests on a platform (gold), the front of which is red, ornamented with an arabesque pattern, also red; pillars on the platform support a canopy, ornamented as the front of the platform, with the addition of Tudor roses; over the shield is the Cardinal's hat, and above that again the holy dove descends. The shield is supported by two dingy-looking griffins, whose wings and heads are red, and whose beaks, claws, and tail-tips are gold; the background is blue.

BOOK-PLATE OF SIR NICHOLAS BACON

Next in date, after Wolsey's book-plate, comes that which was, I believe, engraved at least contemporaneously with the date upon it, 1574, to place in the volumes given in that year by Sir Nicholas Bacon to the University of Cambridge. Bacon died five years after this date; he is familiar to us all as 'the father of his country and of Sir Francis Bacon.' This book-plate is engraved on wood; like Wolsey's, it is found coloured, but it is also—amongst the odds and ends in the Bagford Collection—found uncoloured, and without the inscription which records the gift to Cambridge. A facsimile of that in the Bagford Collection appears opposite: can it be the book-plate of Bacon himself, to which, on the copies used for the books that he gave to Cambridge, was added the donatory inscription? A close comparison shows that both shields of arms are struck from the same block. The arms shown are Bacon quartering Quaplode. The variety of this book-plate which bears the inscription belongs to what are termed 'gift' or 'legacy' book-plates, the dates on which—as they refer to the date of the 'gift' or 'legacy' commemorated—are considered earlier than the engraving. In the case of 'legacy' book-plates they may often be so, but they are not, I think, in many cases of 'gift' book-plates. For instance, if (as from the Bagford example seems probable) this was Bacon's own book-plate, the date upon it, 1574, may even be many years later than the time at which it was made for him. That the date on one of these 'gift' book-plates must be, within a very short space of time, the date of its engraving, will be shown presently when I come to speak of that recording a donation made by Lady Bath.

The next English book-plate which bears upon it an engraved date is that of Sir Thomas Tresham. On this the inscription reads 'June 29, 1585,' which no doubt refers to the date of engraving, or, probably, to the date at which the design for the engraving was finished by the artist. As a work of art it is poor, but its interest as a book-plate to collectors is not lessened on that account. Tresham was knighted by Queen Elizabeth ten years before the date of his book-plate. We know not much of him, save what Fuller tells us that he was famous for 'his skill in buildings.' One of his sons, Sir Francis, was involved in the Gunpowder Plot, and another, Sir Lewis, was made a baronet in 1611.

These three examples are all the sixteenth century English dated book-plates yet brought to light. Those in the seventeenth century are far more numerous. We find one bearing the date '1613,' which was prepared to place in the volumes given, in that year, by William Willmer, a Northamptonshire squire, to his college library. The inscription on it reads: 'Sydney Sussex Colledge—Ex dono Wilhelmi Willmer de Sywell in Com. Northamtoniæ, Armigeri, quondam pentionarii in ista Domi (sic), viz. in Anno Dñi 1599; sed dedit in Ano Dñi 1613.' The book-plate is clearly early, and shows us fine bold heraldic work. In style it nearly resembles the Bacon plate, and that of Sir Thomas Tresham; but the mantling here descends to the base of the shield. The Willmer plate is in Dr. Howard's Collection; a reproduction of it is given in Mr. Griggs's Examples of Armorial Book-Plates.

Early in the reign of Charles I. may be placed a very beautiful example of heraldic engraving, which Sir Wollaston Franks satisfactorily assigns to a certain John Talbot of Thorneton, who died in 1659. It is inscribed 'Coll. Talbott,' and this John Talbot is called 'Colonellus ex parte Regis'; the quarterings are those of the families of Ferrers, Bellars, and Arderne.

In strange contrast to this fine work is the wood block book-plate of 'William Courtenay of Treemer, in the county of Cornwall, Esquire,' who, in 1632, inherited the Treemer estate. We may note that, not only is this book-plate, like all those yet described, free from any indication of lines or dots to express the colours in the armorial bearings, but below the shield is given a verbal blazon of the coat: 'He beareth or, 3 Torteauxes.'

This seems to be the place to speak of a very puzzling pair of engravings, which certainly appear to have been used as book-plates, dated in 1630. They represent the armorial bearings of Sir Edward Dering. One of these book-plates which I take to be the earlier, shows a less number of quarterings, and contains no indication of a really systematic expression of the metals and tinctures in the arms; but the other and later example does. The same date appears upon each. The second of the two plates occurs bound up in a volume of the Harleian Collection of MSS.; and 'Mr. Humphrey Wanly, library-keeper to Robert and Edward, Earls of Oxford,' in his description of the specimen in the Harleian Collection, calls it 'A printed cut of the Arms or Atchievement of Sir Edward Dering, Baronet, dated A.D. 1630, with a fanciful motto in misshapen Saxon characters; but by the hatching of the arms in order to show the colours, according to the way found out by Sir Edward Bysshe, I guess that it is not so old.'

Now, the Harleian volume, in which this engraving occurs, is a copy, written in 1645-46, of the Heralds' Visitation of Kent in 1619; and in a later, but certainly seventeenth century, handwriting, is a description of the numerous quarterings as they appear on the engraving; so that, whilst rejecting the claim of this variety of the plate to be an engraving of 1630, we may, I think, accept it as at least an early example of the indication of the colours and tinctures by lines and dots. As for the first of the two varieties, I do not see why it should not be as early as the date upon it; there was no particular reason in selecting that date; for I do not find that it refers to any special event in Sir Edward's life. A writer to Notes and Queries, in 1851, states that there were several 'loose copies' of the plate—which variety, he does not say—in the Surrenden Collection, and Dr. Howard saw it 'inserted' in several folio volumes of that collection, when it was disposed of by Messrs. Puttick and Simpson. Very good facsimiles of these book-plates have been given by Dr. Howard in his Miscellanea Genealogica et Heraldica.

Another early instance of the expression of the metals and tinctures occurs in the book-plate of Lord-Keeper Lyttelton, a plate which derives additional interest from the fact of its being the work of William Marshall, the famous frontispiece engraver. Sir Edward Lyttelton, the owner of the book-plate, was made Lord-Keeper in 1641, under the title of Baron Lyttelton of Mounslow. This book-plate, which shows us the arms of Lyttelton of Frankley, was evidently engraved before Sir Edward's elevation to the peerage. The book-plate, which is the earliest English example bearing an engraver's signature, may be dated about 1640.

We know from the arms on dedication plates, and the like, that the expression of colours on shields did not become at all general for many years after 1640. Take, for instance, Hollar's cuts of arms in the illustrations to Dugdale's Monasticon, or his History of St. Paul's. Thus, we must not date every book-plate we find, on which the colours are not shown in the new fashion, as before 1640. The small and unpretentious book-plate of John Marsham of Whom's Place, near Cuxton, in Kent, is an illustration of this. A representation of it is given by Mr. Griggs in his Facsimiles. Marsham was made a baronet in 1663; so the plate is earlier than that, but as it is exactly in the style of the dedicatory plates in the works just noticed, we may place it somewhere about 1655. It is perhaps by Hollar. Likely enough, other examples will come to light.

After the Restoration, the number of English book-plates perceptibly increases, though we must remember that the active supporters of Cromwell did not object to a little heraldic display—there was a fair amount of heraldic work one way and another, executed both with pen and pencil, during the twelve years that the king was kept off his throne. Two of the earliest post-Restoration book-plates are those of Sir Edward Bysshe and his brother-in-law, John Greene. Sir Edward Bysshe became Garter King-at-Arms, and John Greene was of Navestock, Essex. Both are curious oblong plates, having fancifully shaped shields surrounded by palm branches, and held up by ribbons. There is no crest shown in either. They are evidently by the same artist, which, as Bysshe and Greene were brothers-in-law, is perhaps natural. A somewhat similar, though plainer, form of ornamentation surrounds the shields on two other anonymous book-plates, one bearing the arms of Southwell, and the other those of Eynes or Haynes.

BOOK-PLATE OF THOMAS GORE BY MICHAEL BURGHERS.

Thomas Gore of Alderton, Wilts, the author of Catalogus de Re Heraldicâ, is a man who might be expected to use a book-plate, and he did. Three varieties are known. The first, which dates about 1660, though a more elaborate piece of work than those last described, is somewhat similar in style, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say dissimilar to the style in which other book-plates prior to the Restoration were designed. Whoever engraved this plate for Gore also engraved the arms of Edward Waterhouse—most probably the engraving was intended for Waterhouse's book-plate—which appear as a frontispiece to his Discourse and Defence of Arms and Armory, 1660. In his second book-plate Gore called to his aid the foreigner's art, employing Michael Burghers, a Dutch artist, who had recently come from Holland and settled at Oxford. Michael produced the book-plate figured opposite, which introduces some rather wild allegory, singularly plain cupids seated on the backs of flying eagles. Perhaps Gore did not care for this allegory,—allegory seems never to have been popular with English book-plate owners (see [Chapter IV.]),—and for his third plate went to an Englishman, and to a no less eminent one than William Faithorne. The famous portrait-engraver produced as beautiful and bold a book-plate in the Simple Armorial style as could well be: the peculiar 'depth' of his touch is apparent here and in his other book-plates, of which there are several.

BOOK-PLATE OF THE MARRIOTT FAMILY BY FAITHORNE

It is interesting to note that Faithorne reverts to the pre-Restoration style, and improves upon it. The mantling is much richer than that shown in earlier examples in the same style, and it more completely surrounds the shield. To Faithorne may be assigned two other magnificent book-plates, that of Sir George Hungerford of Cadenham (anonymous), and the one here reproduced of a member of the family of Marriott of Whitchurch, Warwickshire, and Alscot and Preston, Gloucestershire.[4] The Hungerford book-plate is noteworthy. The name of Sir George Hungerford, its possessor, does not occur in any list of baronets, yet he evidently considered himself to possess that dignity, as the 'bloody hand of Ulster' figures on his arms. Dugdale, too, in speaking of Sir George's marriage, refers to him as 'baronet.' Faithorne also produced a book-plate to commemorate a gift of books made by Bishop Hacket, who died in 1670—it is particularly curious as showing us the Bishop's portrait. I shall speak of it later on, under the heading 'Portrait Book-Plates' ([pp. 216-220]); such plates are comparatively few in number.

Dated, and most probably engraved, in the following year, 1671, is another 'gift' book-plate, prepared to place in books presented by the then Countess-Dowager of Bath. The inscription reads: 'Ex dono Rachel Comitissæ Bathon: Dotariæ An: Dom. MDCLXXI.' This lady was born in 1613; she was a daughter of Francis Fane, first Earl of Westmoreland, and became the wife of Henry Bourchier, Earl of Bath, who died in 1654; and soon afterwards of Lionel Cranfield, Earl of Middlesex, who died in 1674; she herself dying in 1680. There is no reason to doubt the date on this book-plate, 1671, though, at first sight, it may look a little suspicious. True, she had become the wife of the Earl of Middlesex (a title only dating from 1622) in 1654, and was still his wife in 1671; but she had apparently little reason to be proud of him or his title, for he left her and made hay of her fortune, spending it to use the words of a contemporary letter,[5] 'in play and rioting.' We cannot, therefore, feel much surprised at her desire to pass by her former title which would give her rank at court as the widow of an Earl whose creation was hard on a century earlier. 'Our cousin, Lady Bath,' writes Lady Newport, in April 1661, 'hath got her place of being Lady Bath again; it cost her 1,200l ... her Lord is very angry at her changing her title; he says it is an affront to him.' That is why she calls herself, on the book-plate under notice, Countess-Dowager of Bath in 1671. A curious feature about the book-plate is, that it does not seem to have been prepared to place in books included in one particular gift to a particular person or institution, but rather to have been the outcome of my lady's fancy to place such a remembrance of herself in any volume she gave away at that or at any subsequent date. The Countess also used a book-stamp of the same design as the ex libris, but without the inscription.

Whilst speaking on the subject of gift book-plates, reference may appropriately be made to a curious woodcut used as a book-plate by the St. Albans Grammar School, which is figured opposite the next page. It is a quaint bit of, no doubt, local work, and, as pointed out to me by the Rev. F. Willcox, the headmaster, during a long and dusty hunt, occurs only in the volumes given to the school by Sir Samuel Grimston. The plate shows us a combination of the arms of the city of St. Albans and the motto of the Bacon family, adopted by the Grimstons.

I have no doubt that, if a thorough investigation of the too often neglected libraries of our old foundation grammar schools were made, other early and curious book-plates might be discovered.

Between 1670 and 1680 quite a number of book-plates were designed, evidently by the same man. The work is feeble, but it is very distinct. The most interesting of these book-plates, from its possessor, is that of Samuel Pepys. Altogether, I know of eight examples: Charles Pitfield, Sir Robert Southwell, William Wharton, Sir Henry Hunloke, Samuel Pepys, Justinian Pagit, Walter Chetwynd, and Randolph Egerton.

A point of interest about them all is that, as well as expressing heraldically the blazon of the different shields, they also indicate with an initial letter the colour intended to be shown: 'a' for argent, 'g' for gules, and so on. The initial of the heraldic term is used in every case except that of 'azure,' when 'b' for blue is used; 'a,' as we have seen, standing for argent.

Though they differ in the arrangement of the mantling, there can be little doubt that all these book-plates are by the same hand, and that whoever engraved the plates in Blome's Gwilim, engraved these also.

The book-plate of 'Fettiplace Nott,' which bears the date 1694, is a fair type of the book-plate that was in use in England for the next twenty years; indeed, these might all be the work of half a dozen artists.

BOOK-PLATE OF THE ST. ALBANS GRAMMAR SCHOOL, SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

I have not yet mentioned a very numerous and very uninteresting class of early English book-plates—I mean those which are nothing more than 'name-tickets'—the owner's name and date printed within a border more or less ornate. These occur quite early in the seventeenth century, and run all through it. Of course, it may be that the owner is an interesting person, and then his or her name-ticket becomes interesting by reflection, but in themselves these tickets are merely dull. Of English Armorial plates, I have referred in detail to the majority of those bearing an engraved date—when that date is not obviously misleading—prior to the year 1698. I have also spoken of several, though by no means all, of the undated examples, which have been proved to belong to the seventeenth century. To this second list a patient working out of the internal evidence on early-looking, but undated, book-plates would, no doubt, add very considerably; and the illustrations, verbal and otherwise, that I have given may, I hope, be sufficient to indicate the kind of book-plates that are worth such investigation.

I have used the date 1698 as a stopping-point, because from that year we have dated examples of English book-plates, yearly, down to the commencement of the present century. Here let me say a word on the subject of dated book-plates generally. The date is certainly an advantage, especially when it clearly refers to the date of the engraving, and not, as we have seen it sometimes does, to an event in the owner's career; but I cannot understand why the 'market value' of a book-plate should be enhanced to such an extent as it is by the presence on that book-plate of an engraved date. There are probably few book-plates which do not bear some mark by which an approximate date can be safely affixed to them, and the study of these marks is a very desirable undertaking. The great value of a printed date on a book-plate is that one can see from it the style of decoration in vogue at a particular period, and thus obtain the means for arranging, chronologically, undated examples. For there were during certain years certain marked styles of decoration adopted by book-plate engravers; but of these I propose to speak later on under the heading of 'Styles.'

Let me also mention misleading dates on book-plates, and for this purpose it will be sufficient if I take principally the examples cited by Mr. J. Paul Rylands, F.S.A., in his Notes on Lancashire and Cheshire examples. The date on Sir William St. Quintin's book-plate, 1641, is that at which the baronetcy was created; the book-plate was engraved in the last century. Sir Francis Fust's book-plate, one remarkable for its size and ugliness, is inscribed 'S^r Francis Fust of Hill Court in the county of Gloucester, Baronet, created 21st August 1662, the 14 year of King Charles 2d.' Now this plate cannot be earlier than 1728, the year in which the first 'Sir Francis' succeeded to the baronetcy. Here, however, the context of words, 'created 21st August 1662,' renders the inscription less likely to mislead people into supposing that 1662 was the year in which the plate was executed. In other instances we have not this help.

The date 1669, on the book-plate of Gilbert Nicholson of Balrath, merely refers to the date at which Gilbert acquired his Irish estates; the example itself must be later than 1722, as the same copper was employed for it as that on which the book-plate of Thomas Carter, dated in that year, had been engraved. Again, some collectors hold, and have maintained in print, that the book-plate of Sir Robert Clayton, of which we must speak again hereafter, was not really engraved in 1679—the date which appears upon it. 1679 is the year in which Sir Robert was Lord Mayor of London, and it is thought probable that the book-plate was engraved later—perhaps in the early years of the eighteenth century, when, as we have seen, the fashion of having a book-plate was so prevalent—and that Sir Robert placed the date 1679 upon it in order to commemorate the date of his mayoralty. For my part, I see no particular reason for holding this view; the style in which the plate is executed does not seem to me contradictory to the date upon it. Still, as the doubt exists, it is better to mention it.

Attention has been called to a book-plate of 'David Paynter of Dale Castle, Pembrokeshire, 1679,' which is probably nearly a century later. The book-plate of 'William Twemlow of Hatherton, Cheshire, Esquire, 1686,' was engraved for a Mr. William Twemlow, who died in 1843.

On the other hand, there are certain book-plates which were engraved earlier than the dates which appear upon some impressions of them. The book-plate of the statesman Charles James Fox (see opposite) is one instance of this. It is inscribed 'The Hon^ble Charles James Fox,' and was used by the great statesman, but the plate was engraved in 1702—as its style suggests—for his half-uncle, and the inscription, before its alteration, read:—'Charles Fox of the parish of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, Esq., 1702.'

There is a large book-plate, shown by its style to have been engraved in the early years of the eighteenth century, but which is inscribed 'Martin Stapylton, Esq. of Myton, in the county of York, A.D. 1817.' The book-plate was evidently engraved for Sir Bryan Stapylton, who died in 1727. The Martin Stapylton who altered and used it was one Martin Bree—nephew of the last baronet, who died in 1817—who succeeded to his uncle's property, but not to his baronetcy; hence he was not justified in leaving the helmet of a knight or baronet upon it; he removed the 'bloody hand of Ulster' from the shield, but the mistake in the helmet does not seem to have struck him. On a small variety of this book-plate, the inscription on which is similarly altered, the 'bloody hand' remains.

Again, the book-plate of 'S^r Will^m Robinson, Baronett, of Newby, in the county of York, 1702,' was altered—by turning the '0' into a '6'—into 1762, and was used by his grandson; that inscribed 'John Peachey, 1782,' designed in the Chippendale style, is quite twenty years earlier; and that of 'Fr. Dickens Armig. 1795,' was certainly engraved half a century before.

During the ten or twelve years immediately following the year 1698, the number of English dated book-plates is exceedingly large. Taking the list printed for private distribution by Sir Wollaston Franks in 1887, we find sixteen examples in 1698; seven in 1699; fifteen in 1700; sixteen in 1701; forty-four in 1702; fifty-eight in 1703; twenty-seven in 1704; and many, but not so many, in the succeeding years. Something—what, I have failed to discover—must have given a stimulus to the fashion of using book-plates just at the close of the seventeenth and opening of the eighteenth century; and not only to using them, but also to putting a date on those used. It is a fact that it is more rare to find book-plates engraved in this particular style without dates than with them.

The fashion of 'dating,' as a rule, went out about the year 1714, about the time at which, as we shall see, a new 'style' in book-plates became generally adopted. Anonymous book-plates are rare after this date, though, both in England and on the Continent, they were, in early times, certainly common—a fact which bears silent testimony to the much greater intimacy which people in the good old days had with their neighbours' armorial bearings. The coat of arms of a man of position was almost as well known to those dwelling about him as were the features of his face; and if a volume, having within it an Armorial book-plate, happened to be found in wrongful custody, the finder might recognise the heraldry of the owner, even if he could not read the inscription recording that ownership.

So much for the early use of book-plates in England. In the next chapter I propose to say something about the leading styles of decoration employed by their designers.

CHAPTER III

'STYLES' IN ENGLISH BOOK-PLATES

Lord De Tabley has given us names for nearly all the styles met with in English book-plates, and it is perhaps better to accept these descriptions in the present work, adding to them another—'Simple Armorial'—for the earliest plates, and, indeed, for the great majority of those anterior to 1720.

It is not only in book-plates that we see this style adopted: it is used in almost every representation of shields of arms in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, be it on a memorial brass, in sculpture, or on a stained glass window. The style is simple and effective. The shield, nearly always symmetrical, is surmounted by a helmet, on which is the wreath and crest. From the helmet is outspread more or less voluminous mantling. In the earlier examples this terminates, generally in tassels, before reaching the base of the shield. In later examples its heavy folds descend quite to the base, and often ascend upwards from the helmet to the level of the top of the crest. Below the shield is a narrow scroll for the motto, which is not always given, and at the bottom of all is a bracket (on which the owner's name is inscribed), having indented edges. Occasionally, but not often, the mantling, instead of being foliated, hangs from the helmet in stiff folds at the back of the shield, its upper corners being tied up and tasselled. The book-plate of Thomas Knatchbull, dated in 1702 (shown on [p. 51]), is a very fair, though not a very early, example of this style. In some instances the shield is placed on one side—its right hand upper corner being thus brought to the centre of the helmet. The Simple Armorial style was, roughly speaking, not much used after 1720.

Besides the book-plates described in the foregoing chapter, nearly all of which belong to the 'Armorial' style, there are sundry others worthy of particular observation, should the reader meet with them. There is, for instance, the book-plate of 'The Right Hon^ble James, Earl of Derby, Lord of Man and ye Isles, 1702'; the grandson of the James, seventh Earl, who suffered for his loyalty, and of the gallant Charlotte Trémouille. This is a large and very striking book-plate in every way; its size makes possible the introduction of some fine bold work, which is rendered even more effective by the fact that the arms portrayed are simply those of Stanley; so that there is no crowding in of quarterings. The decoration is that common to the book-plates of peers, or of other persons entitled to use supporters at the time: the mantling spreads from the helmet, and terminates at the heads of the supporters; these stand upon the motto-scroll. There is a smaller variety of this book-plate—one of the ordinary size—which is not so pleasing. When Earl James died, in 1736, the Earldom of Derby devolved on his kinsman, Sir Edward Stanley, Bart., whose book-plate, larger and finer than that just described, is really a very beautiful piece of work in the Jacobean style; the arms are Stanley impaling Hesketh, and the size of the book-plate is 6⁵/₈ × 5¹/₄ in.

Similar examples of large-sized book-plates are furnished by those of 'The Honourable Iames Brydges of Wilton Castle, in Hereford Shere' (where the effect is somewhat marred by the number of quarterings displayed); 'Sir William Brownlowe of Belton, in the County of Lincoln, Baronet, 1698,' and his wife 'Dame Alice Brownlowe;' Lord Roos and his wife, Lady Roos; 'Paul Jodrell of Duffield, in y^e County of Derby, Esq^r, Clerk of y^e Hon^ble House of Commons'—a particularly bold piece of work; and 'S^r John Wentworth of North Elmeshall, in the West Rideing of Yorkshire, Baronet.' It is probable that all these, and other large-sized English book-plates, also exist, or existed, in the ordinary size (see [pp. 18], [19]). The largest English book-plate, and one which, from its unusual size, is certain to attract attention, is that of 'Simon Scroope of Danby-super-Yore, in com. Ebor., Esq., 1698'; here, too, much of the good effect is lost by the number of quarterings (no less than twenty-seven) introduced upon the shield.

I referred, at the close of the previous chapter, to the large number of English book-plates engraved during the last two years of the seventeenth century and first ten of the eighteenth. The great majority of these book-plates are in the 'Simple Armorial' style, and there is upon these a very great similarity in the way in which that style is represented; indeed, they may well have been, all of them, the work of less than a dozen artists. Any distinctive feature that exists is to be found in the treatment of the mantling. For instance: it is finely cut on the book-plates of Nicholas Penny, Lord Cornwallis, Lord Roos, and 'John Sayer of Hounslow, in the County of Midd., Esq^r,' all dated in 1700; on the Sayer plate the inscription is enclosed in a Jacobean scroll; it is heavy, and stiffly cut in the book-plates of James Bengough, Richard Newdigate, Sir William Hustler, and John Godfrey, all dated in 1702; it is leaflike and graceful on the book-plates of William Thompson and Francis Columbine, dated in 1708, and of Thomas Rowney, dated in 1713, whilst the book-plate of 'Gostlet Harington of Marshfield, in the Coun. of Glocester, Gent., 1706,' is unique, the mantling being cut like strawberry leaves. There is a peculiar effect produced by the way in which this example is printed, and the lettering of the inscription is also unusual.

There is one of these book-plates which the reader should notice from the peculiar arrangement of the decorative accessories, occasioned by the fact that the owner was both a spiritual and temporal peer. I refer to that of 'Nathanael Crewe, Lord Bishop of Durham and Baron Crewe of Stene, 1703.' Here the mantling springs from the helmet, rises to the level of the crest, and terminates at the heads of the supporters; a baron's coronet appears instead of a mitre, and behind the shield are a crozier and sword in saltire, the decoration of the head of the crozier being so like the form of the mantling that it seems, at first sight, to be part of it.

The 'Jacobean' style is far more ornate than that last mentioned, and the book-plate of 'John Reilly of the Middle Temple, Esqr.,' is a fair example of the best kind of Jacobean work. The escutcheon is raised on an elaborate and richly-carved Jacobean sideboard; mantling is still there, but it is curtailed, and seems almost resting on the top of the sideboard, on either side of which are columns, given in high relief; on each is carved a perpendicular festoon of leaves. Below the shield, crouched on the ledge of the sideboard, are two eagles with expanded wings; each holds in its beak one end of the ribbon which ties into a bunch the corners of a fringed cloth bearing the inscription already quoted; below the eagles, inverted cornucopiæ pour out books upon the floor on which the sideboard stands.

This plate may probably be dated very early in the eighteenth century, or even late in the seventeenth, since it is recorded that John Reilly's signature, with the date '1679,' occurs in a book in which it is fastened. To whichever date it belongs, the Simple Armorial style was then in general use,—that is to say, so far as the book-plates of private individuals are concerned. These, as we have just seen, nearly all bear a helmet, varying according to the owner's social rank, and from that falls the mantling, more or less elaborate. But if we look at the book-plates, dated in or about the year 1700, of certain colleges at Oxford or Cambridge, at ladies' book-plates of the same period,—none of which, of course, display a helmet,—and at some others in which the arms are given in an oval, we see that the blank on either side of the shield (consequent upon the absence of the helmet from which the mantling would fall) is supplied by work distinctly Jacobean. Lord De Tabley, whose descriptions in justification of the names he has bestowed upon the several styles we shall not hesitate to quote in this chapter, thus describes this work:—

'To supply this void in decoration, a distinct frame was placed round the escutcheons, and this framework was ornamented with ribbons, palm branches, or festoons.

'The prominent or high-relief portions of this frame were not set close to the edges of the escutcheons, but between it and them; an interval of flat-patterned surface nearly always intervened, in which, as upon a wall, the actual shield was embedded. This we shall call the lining of the armorial frame; and we shall find this lining is usually imbricated with a pattern of fish-scales, one upon another, or diapered into lattice-work. The scale-covered or latticed interval of lining is the characteristic of the style.... Another step in the external decoration was to add a bracket, distinct from the frame, upon which the shield, in its frame, was supposed to rest. This bracket naturally initiated the decorative art and surface arrangement of the shield-frame.'

As a rule, too, an escallop-shell forms the centre of the bracket in Jacobean book-plates. In some instances it is placed in the centre below, but more usually in the centre above; and then in the centre below we have the head of some mythical and uninviting monster. Either as quasi-supporters on the ledges of the bracket, right and left, or on the side ledges of the shield, if the bracket is amalgamated with the frame, are 'things' selected from the following miscellaneous collection—lions; cherubs, male and female; term-figures; busts of fairies, with butterfly wings; angels, generally engaged in trumpet-blowing, etc.

The student should notice this escallop-shell, because we shall see it introduced into the style of decoration that succeeded the Jacobean—there it became a shelly border rather than a distinct shell.

On the whole, then, the usual ornamentation of a Jacobean book-plate renders it easily recognisable. The decoration is stiff and conventional, displays more solidity than grace, and altogether seems less appropriate to a book-plate than the heavy rolls of mantling, which, as we have seen, surrounded the shield during the prevalence of the preceding style. As for the title 'Jacobean' which has been bestowed upon it, it should be explained that the reference is rather to the style of decoration in vogue in the days of James II. than to anything in the days of James I. Lord De Tabley has pointed out that, as compared with the woodwork preserved in churches of the latter half of the seventeenth century, and as compared with the mouldings on monuments of the same period, a practical identity of decoration cannot fail to strike the antiquary, and his choice of the name 'Jacobean' for this class of book-plates is thus abundantly justified.

Examples of Jacobean book-plates are numerous in most English collections, for the style continued long in fashion; indeed, it lasted, in more or less purity, down to 1745, or even later, and I think it quite likely that some of the evidently early undated examples may really have been executed during the last quarter of the seventeenth century. The similarity, to which we have just alluded, between the ornamentation shown upon Jacobean book-plates and that displayed in ecclesiastical decoration of the time of Charles the Second as well as James the Second, makes it very probable that this is so.

The few book-plates which are known to have been designed or executed by Hogarth (see [p. 79]) are in the Jacobean style; but, with the exception of that eminent artist and George Vertue, the men who worked upon Jacobean book-plates were not distinguished engravers. Nevertheless, some of their productions are distinctly good, though the decoration was, perhaps, too often overdone. The touch, in many, suggests that the artist was accustomed to engrave on gold or silver plate. This is notably the case in the book-plate of 'Charles Barlow, Esq., of Emmanuel College, Cambridge,' engraved in, or immediately after, 1730. This book-plate is worthy of observation, should the reader meet with it, as a particularly exaggerated example of the Jacobean style: the framework seems scarcely able to support the decorative accessories with which it is laden, and which include representations of birds, beasts, mythical figures, stony flowers in festoons or baskets, heads, shells, and what not!

The earliest dated Jacobean example is that of 'William Fitz Gerald, Lord Bishop of Clonfert,' which is inscribed '1698.' Here the escutcheon is of the 'Simple Armorial' shape, but set in a Jacobean framework, decorated with leafy sprays, and surmounted by a mitre, the ribbons of which terminate in tassels. Next we have the book-plates of five Cambridge Colleges,—Jesus, Pembroke, Queens', St. John's, and Trinity Hall; all bear the same engraved date—1700. These, and many like them dated in subsequent years, are no doubt the work of one man: the design consists of an escutcheon, on which are the College arms, set in a finely-drawn, scale-patterned frame, bedecked with hawk-bells, ribbons, wreaths, and sprays of flowers. Other College plates—except that of New College, Oxford, which is 'Simple Armorial' in its style—are Jacobean.

In 1701 comes the book-plate of Dame Anna Margaretta Mason. Here the lozenge, in which she bears her arms, appears with decoration very similar to that just described, though slightly more elaborate. In 1703 the book-plate of Philip Lynch shows how similar decoration is bestowed upon an oval escutcheon; whilst, in 1713, the book-plate of Henry, Duke of Kent, furnishes an early dated example of the introduction of the bracket, which is, as we have seen, a leading feature in Jacobean ornamentation.

This is really a remarkably fine book-plate. The escutcheon, indented in a somewhat peculiar fashion, is surrounded by the Garter, and fastened to the front of the bracket, a highly ornamented piece of work, on which stand the two supporters. Above is the ducal coronet; below, in an oblong Jacobean frame, is the inscription. The family of Grey, Dukes of Kent, is prolific in book-plates; that, dated five years later, of 'Mary, Countess of Harrold,' daughter-in-law to Henry, Duke of Kent, is a more elaborate, though less finely executed, piece of Jacobean work. Her arms, and those of her husband, appear side by side in separate oval shields; angels hold aloft an earl's coronet over both, while below, between the shields, is the head of a cherub, whose wings are arranged as a collar.

Other conspicuous Jacobean book-plates are those of Ellerker Bradshaw; Dr. Philip Bisse, Bishop of St. David's; Richard Massie of Coddington, Cheshire; 'James Hustler,' 1730; 'Sir Thomas Hare, Baronet, of Stow Hall, in Norfolk,' dated in 1734 (see [p. 61]); 'Francis Winnington, of Lincoln's Inn, Esq.,' dated in 1732; 'Saml. Goodford of ye Inner Temple, Esq.,' dated in 1737; 'John Robinson, M.D.,' dated in 1742; 'St. Thomas's Hospital Library;' and 'Lucius Henry Hibbins, of Gray's Inne, Esqe.'

A little before, and a little after, 1720 there was a fashion in English book-plates, which may almost be called a style: it was to place the shield of arms in a medallion, the background of which is shaded. Beneath, is the owner's name and description. The term 'Tombstone Style' might not sound an agreeable designation for these book-plates, but it would be very accurate; for, really, there is a strong likeness between them and the monumental slabs placed over deceased persons, whose social status rendered them eligible for interment in positions where they would be walked over by future generations of church-goers. We may mention three such book-plates: Edward Haistwell, dated in 1718, Sir John Rushout and John Lethieullier, Remembrancer of the City.

So far the shape of the shield used has been perfectly symmetrical. We now come to speak of the third style adopted by English book-plate designers, the leading feature of which is an absence of symmetry. This style has been christened 'Chippendale'; and when its characteristics have been described, and the leading features in Chippendale furniture remembered, we shall see the appropriateness of the name.

'The mark and stamp of a Chippendale ex libris,' says Lord De Tabley, 'is a frilling or border of open shell-work, set close up to the rounded outer margin of the escutcheon, and, with breaks, more or less enclosing it. This seems to be a modification of the scallop shell, so normal at the base either of frame or bracket on a Jacobean plate. It is, in fact, a border imitating the pectinated curves and grooves on the margins of a scallop-shell. Outside this succeed various furniture-like limbs and flourishes, eminently resembling the triumphs of ornate upholstery which Chippendale about this time brought into vogue.' The helmet and mantling are quite exceptional in book-plates of this style, except in examples which were probably designed and executed by Scotch artists.

Although it was not until 1754 that Chippendale published, in folio, The Gentleman's and Cabinetmaker's Director, 'being a large Collection of the most useful Designs of Household Furniture in the most fashionable taste, with 160 Plates of elegant designed Furniture,' there was probably by that time a good deal of Chippendale furniture already in the market, and we are therefore not surprised to find a book-plate designed in the Chippendale style, dated in 1714—that of 'East Apthorpe.' True, the style there shown is not at all 'advanced,' yet there are decided indications of it, and for that reason it deserves attention. Although the shield is shell-shaped and ornamented with flowers, yet there are upon the plate indications of a horizontally-hatched Jacobean lining to the frame. We may, I think, consider this one of the earliest attempts at designing a Chippendale book-plate.

The style improved during the next ten or fifteen years, and then began to deteriorate. As an escutcheon, the shell-shaped or non-symmetrical shield is unnatural and even ugly, but it lends itself to an artistic treatment which the previous styles in English book-plates certainly did not. For example, flowers—of which there are always many in this style of book-plate—can be represented as in nature; roses blossom on sprays or branches, instead of being woven closely together in conventional festoons, lilies are left to droop their heads, whilst bunches of grasses or leaves are bound so loosely together that they forfeit nothing of their natural elegance. Allegoric figures also find place in Chippendale book-plates, but they are of a much more attractive kind than those displayed in the Jacobean plates. Cupids or nymphs are sometimes really graceful bits of drawing when depicted in the better specimens of the style of which we are now speaking. The book-plate of 'James Brackstone, Citizen of London,' dated in 1751—figured opposite this page—is as good a specimen of a pure Chippendale book-plate as could be found; whilst that of John Ord of Lincoln Inn, dated ten years later, betrays some signs of a decadence which soon afterwards became general.

'The fashion,' as Lord De Tabley remarks, 'began to be vulgarised in the hands of weak designers, who bestowed floral embellishments upon the framework of the shields, without any moderation whatever, endeavouring by a crowded decoration to mask the real weakness and poverty of their powers of design.' As a consequence, we have in the later Chippendale book-plates, those, say, from 1760 to 1780 or 1785, some very terrible productions. Shell-work and flowers are retained, but they are regarded as inadequate, and cherubs, dragons, 'nymphs in kilted petticoats,' sheep, cattle, trees, fruit, fruit-baskets, portions of buildings, fountains, books, implements of husbandry, and a host of other miscellaneous objects appear as decorations. Indeed, it is wonderful what a strange medley a designer in the later days of Chippendaleism could produce for a customer willing to pay for it!

We may as well here point out a few interesting examples of English book-plates designed in the Chippendale style. A prolific worker in it was J. Skinner of Bath (see [pp. 81-86]; [203-212]), who followed the excellent plan of dating nearly all his work, which should, therefore, be carefully observed when met with. In one of his book-plates, that which, in 1743, he produced for 'Charles Delafaye, Esq., of Wichbury, Wilts.' it is curious to note with what evident diffidence the designer uses the graceful sprays of natural flowers in ornamenting the shelly shield. Yet in another book-plate, that of Benjamin Hatley Foote, engraved in the same year, the anonymous artist uses these ornaments without hesitation, and produces a book-plate which might have been engraved many years later. Two very noticeable examples are also supplied by the fully developed Chippendale book-plates of Richard Caryer and Joseph Pocklington. In each the crest is placed on a miniature representation of the shield, which contains the arms. Of the debased Chippendale book-plates, of which we have had to speak, it is hard to select examples for particular reference, for they are sadly numerous, and seem to vie with each other in ugliness and vulgarity; the prize may, however, be claimed by 'C. Eve', who, conscious, perhaps, of the atrocity he was committing in using such a book-plate, makes an attempt at disguising his name. To describe his plate is nearly impossible; suffice it to say that, built on to the frame are sundry stages on which a variety of pastoral scenes are depicted, and that any beauties which the floral embellishments might in themselves possess are effectually obliterated by overcrowding.

Before Chippendaleism had died out, another marked style in English book-plates had already come in, and was getting to be generally adopted. We will call this the 'Wreath and Ribbon' or 'Festoon' style, and probably one of the earliest examples of it is that figured opposite, which shows us the book-plate of George Lewis Jones, Bishop of Kilmore, dated in 1774. There is a good deal of grace in these 'Wreath and Ribbon' book-plates. The shield is again symmetrical, and of a shape that a shield might possibly be; the flowers and leaves that decorate it are for the most part still left free and unconfined, and even when woven into festoons they are somewhat less conventional than those which compose the festoons of the Jacobean period. These festoons, and a labyrinth of floating ribbons, were intended to compensate for the loss of the shelly border and its adjuncts of the 'Chippendale' style.

Just in the same way as the Chippendale book-plates very closely resembled in their decoration the furniture with which Chippendale filled the fashionable drawing-rooms of his time, so in their turn those designed in what we have christened the 'Wreath and Ribbon' style very closely resembled the decoration which Thomas Sheraton suggested for contemporary furniture. This the reader may see for himself, if he will turn to Sheraton's work, The Cabinetmaker and Upholsterer's Drawing Book.

I do not know that there are many examples of the 'Wreath and Ribbon' book-plates which call for special attention. Though several are pretty, there is a strong family likeness between all. Perhaps the most conspicuous is that of 'John Symons, Esq^r.' In this, prettily drawn cherubs, descending from the sky, hold the corners of a mantle, which surrounds the shield. The book-plates of 'Sir Thomas Banks I'Anson, of Corfe Castle, Dorset'; of the 'Rev. George Pollen'; and of 'John Holcombe, New Cross,' are useful for comparison, on account of the engraved dates which they bear—1783, 1787, and 1799 respectively; whilst that of 'Robert Surtees, Mainsforth,' is interesting both from its possessor, the historian of Durham, who was also its designer, and from its unusual hatched background.

By degrees the festoons of flowers and entanglement of ribbons were discarded, and the shield, similarly shaped, appeared destitute of ornamentation. The helmet was omitted, and the 'wreath' on which the crest should properly rest was placed, in a meaningless way, the fraction of an inch above the upper line of the shield, and entirely without support. After this, quite early in the nineteenth century, and during its first fifteen or twenty years, there came into fashion a design in English book-plates which we may term the 'Celestial' style. In this the shield is depicted as suspended in mid-air, with a background of sky or clouds, or else resting upon a cloud-built bank. It gave the designer very slight opportunity for the display of artistic taste; had it done so, the opportunity would probably have been neglected, for the designers and engravers of book-plates in this style were men of whom the world at large knows nothing. The shield, in book-plates of the time of which I am now speaking, was entirely without ornament, and of this shape—

The helmet was seldom introduced, so that the crest was placed in the same absurd position as that just described. The shield figured above is a fair specimen of that in vogue between 1810 and 1830. From the latter date to within a few years ago, the arms, in the majority of English book-plates, were represented in a more ornate shield. The helmet was reintroduced, and from it fell a slight mantling, somewhat similar to that which appears in our earliest examples. It is hardly necessary to indicate any particular specimens designed in these last-mentioned styles.

Before closing this chapter, I ought, perhaps, to say a word about Scotch and Irish book-plates. It cannot be said that in these there was ever a style distinctively national. The style fashionable in England at a particular time was also fashionable in Scotland and in Ireland; yet there is a perceptible difference in the way in which its details were carried out, especially in Scotland. In Edinburgh there were several book-plate engravers, and their work possesses a characteristic touch;[6] the 'Simple Armorial' style is rendered much more stiffly, and the shield is often round. 'Jacobean' book-plates are very uncommon, but the 'Chippendales' are an odd mixture of that style as we know it in England and the 'Jacobean.' The presence of a helmet and mantling in a 'Chippendale' book-plate engraved in Scotland is not unusual, and the shield is always very soberly placed. I do not know of a 'Library Interior' plate that hails from north of the Tweed; but, if one ever be discovered, depend upon it no Cupids will frolic there. A few Scotch book-plates are, perhaps, emblematic; that is, display emblems of the possessor's art or trade. Dr. John Bosworth's, in which are figured the staff of Æsculapius, a cock, a serpent, and an owl, is an instance of this; but allegory is almost unknown. No mythological figures sit among the floral decorations of Scotch Chippendale book-plates, as they do so frequently in later Chippendale work in England. The only instance that I can call to mind of the introduction of figures at all into the decoration of a Scotch book-plate, is that of 'Birnie of Broomhill' (circa 1715), reproduced opposite, and in this the figures are sombre enough,—two ministers of 'the kirk' kneeling at their desks. Irish book-plates have even less individuality than Scotch, and are chiefly recognisable by the coarseness of their work, and their dark printing.

CHAPTER IV

ALLEGORY IN ENGLISH BOOK-PLATES

In the last chapter I spoke of the leading styles followed in designing English book-plates, in, as far as possible, chronological sequence, though the reader will have noticed that such styles overlapped each other, often by a considerable number of years. Concurrently with these distinct styles, or with nearly all of them, there are to be found many English book-plates which may be appropriately called 'picture' book-plates, and which may themselves be divided into two classes: those which, quite apart from the heraldry upon them, show things unreal, or combinations of things real and unreal; and those which, apart from the heraldry, show things wholly real. Let us speak, first, of the former of these divisions—'Allegoric' book-plates we will call them.

The collector will soon discover that in England allegory formed at no period, except, perhaps, in the days of Bartolozzi and Sherwin, a really national style in book-plates, but rather an occasional fancy indulged in by a particular individual here and there. Whilst in France book-plates on which was displayed allegory, and the wildest allegory, were actually abundant, in England they are decidedly rare; and it is indeed interesting to see how our English artists set to work when called upon to design them.

So far as I am aware, the earliest example of an English Allegoric book-plate as yet brought to light, is that of Thomas Gore of Alderton, which is fully described on [p. 34]. This may be dated somewhere about 1675, and was, as the signature shows us, the work of a Dutch artist, Michael Burghers; so that we may, perhaps, regard the allegory upon it rather as the outcome of Michael's brain than the carrying out of instructions given him by a Wiltshire squire!

The date of the next English book-plate I have noticed, in which allegory is introduced, is also the work of a foreigner,—a Frenchman,—Louis du Guernier, who, at the age of thirty, came over from Paris in 1708, and who died here in 1716. Soon after his arrival he executed a book-plate, decidedly foreign in appearance, for Lady Cairnes, wife of Sir Alexander Cairnes of Monaghan. The Cairnes arms, impaling Gould, are on a round shield in a scaly frame; this is placed on steps, at the back of which is classical masonry. The shield is kept from falling by three cupids,—two seated and one standing,—whilst two flying ones hold aloft a ribbon bearing the owner's name, thus: 'Lady Elizabeth Cairnes.' She was a sister of Sir Nathaniel Gould, so that her description on the book-plate as 'Lady' is clearly wrong; she should have been called 'Dame.' The error arose, most likely, from the engraver's imperfect knowledge of English titles,—a very general stumbling-block to foreigners. The book-plate is an exceedingly pretty piece of work. There is some of the Jacobean scale work used in it which English engravers were beginning to introduce into their designs; but the employment of allegory is certainly the most striking feature it possesses. I do not know of any other book-plates executed by Louis du Guernier while in England, and probably the people of this country were not yet quite prepared to confide—as Lord De Tabley puts it—their family escutcheons 'to the care of Minerva or the Delian Phœbus himself.'

But though Michael Burghers's somewhat unbeautiful allegory may not have pleased Thomas Gore or his other English clients in 1675, nor the prettier allegory of Louis du Guernier have generally commended itself to people in this country in 1710, allegory, if not in the work of these artists, was bound sooner or later to come into fashion on English book-plates, seeing that it was, and for long had been, fashionable across the Channel. There have been few outbreaks of disease on the Continent that have not infected this country,—at all events, slightly. The foreigners whom the foreign king, on his arrival in England in 1688, brought with him engendered foreign ways and foreign fashions at Court, and these ways and fashions were in turn adopted by people who did not go to Court, and that is how allegory crept into the book-plates of the rank and file of Englishmen.

The first English engraver, born and bred, to execute an Allegoric book-plate was John Pine, himself a man of letters, and one with whose features Hogarth has made us familiar. In 1736 he was employed to design and engrave a book-plate to place in the thirty thousand volumes of Bishop Moore's library, which George I. had bought, in 1715, to present to the University of Cambridge, but which were not suitably housed till 1734. No doubt Pine was fully impressed with the munificence of the gift,—a mass of volumes which the heavy-headed king would have never opened had he kept, and never understood had he opened them. His task was to design a book-plate commensurate with the royal munificence, and he probably considered he had been equal to the occasion when he produced what we see opposite the next page. Lord De Tabley's words so accurately describe this pompous production, that I will quote them:—

'The design represents a vast structure, rather like an ormolu chimney-piece clock, of which the arms of the University of Cambridge, in a plain, solid frame, represent the face. Behind this towers up a vast pyramid, on which the brick work is distinctly marked. As dexter supporter stands Phœbus Apollo in person, reaching out a wreath. A clouded sun rays out behind him. At his feet are deposited samples of the book collection of late so munificently bestowed. As sinister supporter sits Minerva with helm and spear and Gorgon-headed shield. Her feet are wrapt in cloud. In the centre of the bracket, beneath these gods, is inserted a medallion portrait of royal George, reading round its exergue, Georgius D.G., MAG. BR. FR. ET HIB. REX F.D. This is flanked by a laurel and a palm branch.' Pine—who had submitted proofs of this book-plate before August 1736, for at that date he offers to make George's portrait more accurate—engraved four sizes of this plate. The design is similar in three, but in the fourth, and smallest, the artist evidently felt that, in so limited a space, he could not do justice to Apollo and Minerva, and discreetly omitted them. He signs this smallest plate in full, 'J. Pine, Sculp.'

There may now be seen at Cambridge, in many of the books which George I. presented, book-plates which at first sight appear to be modern impressions from Pine's plates, but, on examination, prove to be copies, though not exact copies, of Pine's work, and on these the signature is 'J. B.' The late Mr. Henry Bradshaw discovered that these copies were the work of John Baldrey, a Cambridge engraver, at the close of the last century. At the time that he was working for the University, a large number of the volumes given by George I. required re-binding, and, as Pine's plates were worn out or lost, Baldrey was commissioned to execute a copy of the earlier design, in order to supply a book-plate for the re-bound volumes.

BOOK-PLATE FOUND IN BOOKS GIVEN BY GEORGE I. TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE.

Very soon after the 'Munificentia Regia' to Cambridge in 1715, the loyalty of Oxford to the 'illustrious House of Hanover' was seriously doubted, and the King sent a squadron of horse into the city, whereupon an Oxford 'varsity wit composed the following epigram:—

'The King, observing with judicious eyes,
The state of both his Universities,
To one he sends a regiment;—For why?
That learned body wanted loyalty;
To th' other books he gave, as well discerning
How much that loyal body wanted learning.'

Which drew from a champion of Cambridge the reply:—

'The King to Oxford sent his troop of horse,
For Tories own no argument but force;
With equal care, to Cambridge books he sent,
For Whigs allow no force but argument.'

Though much later in date than the design just noticed, it may be as well to mention here another book-plate—also 'Allegoric'—which, was engraved by John Pine. This was executed by him from a drawing by Gravelot, for Dr. John Burton, about the year 1740. It shows us the interior of a library, presumably the doctor's, with a couple of cupids supporting a shield bearing the Burton arms. This design, which was subsequently appropriated by 'Wadham Wyndham, Esq.,' as his book-plate,[7] is a very 'slight' affair after the Cambridge plate; but Pine no doubt possessed a fitting sense of the difference to be observed in designing a book-plate for a mere Doctor of Divinity and in commemorating the gift of a royal donor.

After John Pine, the next designers of English book-plates in the Allegoric style are both famous men,—William Hogarth and George Vertue. We will speak of the works of the greater man first: they consist of two undoubted book-plates and of a few more possible ones, and were executed quite at the outset of Hogarth's career, say, about 1720. The first is described as done for the books of John Holland, herald painter. Minerva is seen seated among cupids, four in number, with her hand placed upon a shield bearing the family arms. The chief interest in Hogarth's other undoubted book-plate—that of George Lambart, the landscape painter, one of Hogarth's convivial crew—lies in the female figures, which sit right and left of the shield. It is figured over leaf, from the copy in Sir Wollaston Franks's collection, which is the only original example known to exist—other copies are from the plates in Ireland's work, and bear his initials. The collector is cautioned against certain plates signed 'W. H.,' which have been attributed to Hogarth, but are in reality the work of William Hibbart, a Bath engraver, working about the middle of the eighteenth century.

Turning now to the work of George Vertue in designing English Allegoric book-plates, we come to a very beautiful and very interesting example, which was probably engraved in, or very soon after, 1730—the book-plate of Henrietta, Countess of Oxford. I have already called attention to this engraving in speaking of old-time allusions to book-plates ([p. 14]), and do not here intend to do more than make passing reference to it, since I have spoken fully of it later on in what I have to say about 'ladies'' book-plates ([pp. 186-199]). It is only mentioned now in order to give a reference to it in its proper chronological position.

We have now to travel for some distance along the road of time before coming to another example of allegory on an English book-plate.

We find it, in 1740, on a plate which one J. Skinner engraved from a design by 'T. Ross.' This is really a very beautiful book-plate, as its reproduction ([p. 83]) shows. A shield—the shape and ornamentation of which is Chippendale—bearing the Wiltshire arms, is placed upon a platform and against a cippus, or small monumental column; Shakespeare stands on the right, and listens, with a pleased expression, to the music of a rustic piper, whose head appears at the back of the cippus, whilst, on the left, Pope weighs the eloquence of an orator, whose head and upraised hand also appear from behind the cippus. A medallion of Augustus is on a pedestal above. Lying on the platform are a globe and books and many emblems of the painter's and musician's arts, and amongst these sits Cupid thinking, perhaps, with which he will play next, and holding the end of a ribbon inscribed: 'John Wiltshire, Bath, 1740.' The design is certainly original, and makes us interested as to the identity of the owner.

It is quite possible that we have here not only an interesting book-plate, but the book-plate of an interesting man. When Gainsborough, the painter, moved to Bath in 1760 he found that the 'Pickford' of the day, who had the carrying trade of the Bath road, was no ordinary carrier, but a man of taste and culture, and ready to do anything he could to help art and artists. He was a certain John Wiltshire, and before Gainsborough had been long a resident at Bath he was Wiltshire's fast friend, and in the enjoyment of a very tangible proof of friendship: for Wiltshire carried to London, gratis, every picture that Gainsborough needed to send thither. Not a penny would he take for carriage. 'No, no,' he would say, when the painter's modesty led him to protest against such generosity, 'I admire painting too much for that.' No doubt he did, and it must be said that, in return for his goodness, Gainsborough gave him many a charming bit of work on which to feast his eyes. Let us hope we have before us the book-plate of this 'kind of worthy man,' as Allan Cunningham called him, who loved Gainsborough and admired his works.

Of course the plate is twenty years earlier than the commencement of Gainsborough's residence at Bath and of his friendship with Wiltshire; but what of that? Wiltshire had been, likely enough, a lover of things beautiful and the owner of books, long before; there is no necessity for imagining that his was a sudden conversion to a self-sacrificing love for art, produced by intimacy with Gainsborough.

Another interesting English book-plate, in which allegory plays a part, is that, also by J. Skinner, of William Oliver,[8] doctor of medicine, philanthropist, and inventor of biscuits. It is, judging from the form of the engraver's signature, of about the same date as the Wiltshire book-plate. The shield, bearing the Oliver coat-of-arms, rests upon a platform on which stand two figures, as in the example last described; but instead of these figures being representative of the drama and of literature, they are an ancient and a modern medical practitioner: the former, perhaps, even the god of medicine himself. This was quite appropriate, for Oliver, though a man of cultured tastes in varied walks of life, and one who might have appropriately committed the care of his family escutcheon to the allegoric representatives of many arts, was first and foremost a doctor of medicine. The modern doctor is arrayed in cap and gown, and stands on the left of the shield, with hand outstretched towards his fellow of old time. Below the platform, on a triangle, is a club, around which the serpent of Æsculapius entwines itself.

Oliver's life lasted for hard on seventy years—1695 to 1764; after settling at Bath and commencing practice, his rise to fame was remarkable for its rapidity, and, as quite early in his career he busied himself with hospital building, hospital management, and other good works, he soon made for himself a number of enemies amongst his fellow-practitioners less capable and less energetic than himself. As a physician and philanthropist he is now forgotten; as the inventor of a biscuit he is remembered—for the 'Bath Oliver' still holds its own against the multitude of modern competitors, and is still—so the makers say—prepared from Dr. Oliver's original receipt. That receipt he confided, when on his death-bed, to his coachman, giving him £100 in money and ten sacks of the finest flour wherewith to continue the production of the then already popular biscuits. With the money the coachman opened a shop in Green Street, Bath, and so got together a comfortable fortune. Of Skinner, to whom we owe these two plates, we shall have more to say presently ([pp. 203-212]), in referring to the engravers of English book-plates.

Ten years after the Wiltshire plate comes our next distinctly Allegoric book-plate, engraved by a second-rate engraver for 'John Duick.' I have not seen this plate, but Lord De Tabley, whose word-pictures are always good, thus describes it:—'Apollo with a broad ray effect round his head, playing the lyre to the nine Muses, who are grouped around him; the musical ones also assist in the concert with various instruments. Below are clouds, above them appear the abrupt cliffs of Helicon, with Pegasus launching himself into the air therefrom; the fountain Hippocrene, tapped by his galloping hoofs, descends the cliff-side in a cascade.'

Allegory also appears in the two book-plates engraved by Sir Robert Strange about the middle of the eighteenth century; those of his brother-in-law, Andrew Lumisden, secretary to Prince Charlie, and of a Dr. Thomas Drummond. The circumstances under which the former was engraved have been already referred to ([p. 11]). It is a sombre book-plate, showing us, before a dark background, a slab with a bust at either end; 'Cupid' plays on the ground before the centre of the slab; the Lumisden arms are on a shield that lies in the left-hand corner; and a heavy curtain hangs over the upper part of the design, which is signed 'R. Strange, sculpt.'

Dr. Drummond's book-plate (see [p. 89]) is a less heavy, but not so finished a production, and is drawn by T. Wale: Aurora soars at the top of the design, and with her left hand pulls aside a curtain, thus disclosing a view of the doctor's library. In the centre is placed a table covered with cloth, except at the right-hand corner; here the drapery is raised so as to display the ornate workmanship of the table-leg. On the cloth are a number of books, some music, and a flute; before the table a globe, and, leaning against that, a violoncello. The general decoration of the room is classical, and busts and statues are introduced, though not with sufficient detail to be recognisable. In Aurora's right hand is a flaming torch, held in dangerous proximity to the curtain.

After the date of these two plates comes another long interval—twenty years or so—before we reach the next truly Allegoric book-plate designed in England. We then find a decidedly graceful piece of work. A hooded Sibyl, seated at the foot of a pyramid, peruses attentively an open volume. She leans her cheek upon her right hand, whilst the left rests upon the book. A caduceus, against which rests a shield of arms, lies at her feet. The whole is contained in an oval wreath of berried laurel. Below is written: 'E libris Johīs Currer de Kildwick, Arm.' This book-plate was afterwards altered for 'Danson Richardson Currer, de Gledston, Arm̄,' and an inferior copy was used by a certain R. H. Alexander Bennet; this is a much commoner book-plate than the Currer—in either form.

Of much the same date is the far less graceful representation of allegory, which appears on the book-plate of 'T. Gascoigne, Parlington, in Yorkshire.' Here we have a representation of what, we must presume, is the interior of the Parlington Library; but neither 'T. Gascoigne,' nor yet any other eighteenth century Yorkshire gentleman, is tasting the sweets of his literary collection; the library is tenanted by a couple of mythological females, of such substantial forms that Lord De Tabley thinks they must represent two Yorkshire damsels masquerading, one as a muse and the other as Apollo. The muse writes down either notes or words from Apollo's dictation. Columns support the roof of the library, and in a niche in the wall stands a small statue of Minerva. If Mr. Gascoigne obtained the services of some Yorkshire relatives to stand as models for the figures on his book-plate, he probably did so when they were in town for the season, for the work is signed by a Bond Street engraver.

About the year 1775, English Allegoric book-plates became more numerous, and the allegory upon them assumes a grace in conception and execution not before known. Cipriani, Bartolozzi, and his pupil Sherwin, were showing Englishmen how allegory could be represented on book-plates without being clumsy and ridiculous, and the lesser artists were imitating their work with more or less success.

One of Bartolozzi's earliest book-plates was executed for Sir Foster Cunliffe, Bart., the descendant of a very famous Liverpool merchant. The Cunliffe arms appear in mid-air, resting upon a bank of clouds; two exquisitely drawn cherubs support the shield, over which is folded drapery. The cherub on the dexter side is seated, and holds a caduceus in his right hand. The one on the sinister side is furnished with two trumpets, and is blowing that in his left hand. On a medallion above the shield is the Cunliffe crest, with the motto Fideliter. The plate, which was afterwards altered for Sir Robert H. Cunliffe, Bart., is, in all probability, Cipriani's design, for that artist signs his name as designer of an almost similar book-plate for Jean Tommins, which was engraved by Ford several years before. A very coarse imitation of the design was also used by Thomas Anson of Shughborough, who intrusted the imitation to Yates.

Sir Foster Cunliffe was a grandson of Foster Cunliffe, King Charles the Second's godson, the Liverpool merchant, who, according to Foster's Lancashire Families, 'became not only the first man in Liverpool, but was supposed to have a more extended commerce than any merchant in the kingdom, and declined all solicitations that he should represent Liverpool in Parliament.'

The remarkably large example of Bartolozzi's work which has often been described as the book-plate of George III., does not appear ever to have been used as such. In the previous edition of this book I alluded to it (at [p. 67]) as, possibly, a gift to the King, in which, at the expense of utility, Bartolozzi sought to display his gratitude to, and admiration for, the sovereign, under whom he had come to reside; it does not, however, seem that Bartolozzi intended the engraving for a book-plate at all, but designed it for the title-page of a folio volume, issued in 1792, which contained engravings of thirty-six statesmen of the reign of Henry VIII., from drawings by Holbein. I will give a short description of the engraving in question, so that it may be more easily recognised by the collector, if offered to him as a book-plate. It shows us the arms of England, as borne by George III., prior to the Union with Ireland, upheld in mid-air by three inhabitants of the skies. Above the shield a fourth celestial being is flying, and at the same time holding aloft His Majesty's crown. On the left side of the plate is the figure of Fame, who, on a long trumpet placed to her lips, is evidently giving a sonorous blast. This is perhaps the most uncomfortable part of the design, for the whole weight of this somewhat massive young lady is upon the shield, which we have said is in mid-air, and only supported by three cherubs, whose united muscular powers strike one as totally inadequate to bear the burden imposed upon them.

In 1796, Bartolozzi, then a Royal Academician, executed his most beautiful book-plate. It is inscribed 'H. F. Bessborough,' and was made for Lady Henrietta Frances Spencer, who, in 1780, married Frederick, third Earl of Bessborough. The design shows us a Roman interior with an exquisitely drawn Venus, seated, and holding in her left hand—which is uplifted—a burning human heart, and in her right, a dove. Behind her is a vase of flowers. The other inmates of the room are two cupids, who hold above the goddess a long scarf bearing Lady Bessborough's name. The design is Cipriani's. Besides his signature and that of the engraver, there is also on the book-plate, 'Published Dec. 30, 1796, by F. Bartolozzi.' It will be remembered that in 1735 Hogarth, by his own exertions on behalf of his brother artists, managed to get an Act through Parliament—a body that then probably cared little for art or artists—by which designers and engravers obtained a copyright in their own works; and it is a singular testimony to the popularity of Bartolozzi's work, that on so trivial a work as a book-plate it was found necessary to adopt this formula of publication. By the kindness of the Hon. Gerald Ponsonby, I am enabled to state that Bartolozzi's receipt for this 'ticket plate,' as he calls it, bears as its date the 29th December 1796, the day before the date of 'publication.' It is noteworthy that Bartolozzi received £20 for his work. The book-plate is given on the previous page.

Quite distinct from this 'joyous' book-plate is another, executed by the same artist for a Spanish lady, which we may class as English, since it was no doubt engraved by him in England. Isabel de Menezes, the lady for whom this book-plate was designed, was, as she tells us on it, in the seventy-first year of her age. Allegoric figures disporting themselves in youthful frolic would, perhaps, have been out of keeping on the book-plate of a lady at that sombre time of life, and so the designer has run to the other extreme. Gloominess predominates in this book-plate. A partly ruined square-built tomb is erected on a promontory above the sea; briars and other creepers have grown round it and had covered it, till the kneeling female figure drew them down in order to place upon the tomb a commemorative inscription. Beside the figure is a Cupid, who points to the newly-cut words. It has been thought that this may have been designed for a visiting card; it is quite in the fashion of such things at the date, and it is likely enough that Isabel de Menezes used the plate both as a card and as a mark of ownership for her books.

There are, besides those described, a number of English book-plates which in style much resemble Bartolozzi's work. If they are his, they probably date before 1796, for the adoption of the publication formula, before noticed, makes it improbable that he executed any work, whilst in England, that he did not thus protect. After his departure from this country, he produced, from a drawing by Signeira, a book-plate for Sir Thomas Gage, Bart., of Hengrave Hall, Suffolk. In this, a female figure sits upon a stone, against which is a plain shield bearing the Gage arms. The plate is signed 'Bartolozzi, Lisbon, 1805.' There is a distinct resemblance in this book-plate to that which was engraved, either in 1786 or 1787, for Richard Hoare, eldest son of the Lord Mayor of London. He was created a baronet in the former year, and died in the latter. In this we have a seated female, classically draped, who rests her left elbow on a cippus, on which is engraved a shield bearing the arms of Hoare. Richard Hoare married the heiress of Stourhead, and his son was Sir Richard Colt Hoare, the famous antiquary and author. The date at which this plate must have been executed, 1786 or 1787, does not allow the absence of the engraver's name and formula of publication to tell against the work being Bartolozzi's; his fame was not then so great, and he found it less necessary to protect his engravings from piracy (see [p. 197]).

Beautiful as are Bartolozzi's book-plates, it cannot be said that his capabilities as a designer or an engraver are demonstrated in these; works of a larger kind showed forth his talents far more.

So, then, allegory at length came to be almost popular with English book-plate owners, and various lesser artists—Henshaw, Roe, Pollard, and some others—produced it in imitation of Bartolozzi, with only indifferent success. But before ending this chapter, we must say something about the book-plate work of Bartolozzi's chief English pupil, John Keys Sherwin. In 1773, the year after he gained the Royal Academy's gold medal for drawing, he executed an extremely pretty Allegoric book-plate for John Mitford of Pitt's Hill. It represents an infant Neptune, with his trident, seated on a large shell, which is upon the back of a sea-horse. Young Neptune's drapery forms a graceful canopy, and he supports in his right hand a small shell, which displays the Mitford arms and crest. A dolphin, spouting water in fountain-like sprays, swims by his side. There are two states of this plate, one having the arms incorrectly shaded: both are signed by Sherwin.

In closing our remarks on English book-plates, designed after this fashion, notice—though only a passing one, for it is spoken of fully later on—must be taken of the charming book-plate which Agnes Berry designed in 1793 for her friend Mrs. Damer. I mention it here only to associate it in the reader's mind with 'Allegoric' book-plates.

So much for allegory on English book-plates. It is to the credit of Englishmen that Allegoric work did not become popular until something really artistic in this particular style was produced, and that, even before that time, allegory never ran quite so wild on English book-plates as it did on foreign examples. M. Poulet Malassis assures us that into one French book-plate of the last century were crowded the whole personnel of Olympus!

CHAPTER V

ENGLISH 'PICTURE' BOOK-PLATES

In turning now to consider English book-plates which show us, apart from the heraldry upon them, things wholly real, we find much that is interesting. First, we have 'Portrait' book-plates, those which, either combined with heraldry or entirely without it, show us the features of the owner of the volume. There are but few of such book-plates, but they are so interesting that we shall speak of them by themselves later on ([pp. 216-220]); they are common to all periods, and the fashion of using them has increased lately.

Then we have book-plates in which books themselves—book piles or book shelves—are the predominating feature in the design; with these, Sir Arthur Vicars, in the pages of the Ex Libris Journal, has dealt exhaustively. Though the book-plates which show us library interiors would seem naturally to come into this class of examples, I have been forced to except the majority of them, and to speak of them in the previous chapter, as being in nearly every case at least tinged with allegory. Even in the sanctum of a doctor of divinity, Cupid frolics about as happy, and as busy, as in a maiden's boudoir. Still there are a few 'Library Interiors' entirely free from allegory. Take, for instance, the book-plate of Sir Robert Cunliffe. Here we have the interior of a library with a window to the right. Every ornament is thoroughly 'Chippendale' in character; the legs of the table, the cartouche (which contains the name), the shield, and the woodwork surrounding the window. On the table is a globe, upon a stand, the supports of which terminate in Chippendale scrolls, an inkstand with a pen on it, and two books, one closed, and the other open. There are numbers of books confusedly disposed on the shelves, the ceiling of the room is plain, and there is only a plain line for a cornice. The arms occupy the centre of the plate, and appear to be suspended in mid-air, the foot of one of the scrolls only resting on the table.

Again, the book-plates of 'The Manchester Subscription Library,' 'The Manchester Circulating Library,' and 'The Rochdale Circulating Library' all show interiors of libraries, but free from allegoric inmates. These three book-plates are nearly identical. There are shelves of books at the sides, a tiled floor, a table in the foreground, a panelled ceiling with a cornice; and, at the end of the room, perhaps a passage. There is a round arch containing a window of three lights, the centre one having a round top. The general appearance of the room is classical Very similar is the book-plate of the Liverpool Library. Here we have a complicated Chippendale bookcase, with ten columns upon square bases, and ornamental capitals of no particular style. The shelves are filled with books, and the two central divisions of the bookcase are all cupboards. In the centre of the case, among Chippendale scrolls, is the crest of the town, and below the central division of the bookcase are the words 'Liverpool Library' in two lines. Below the whole is a large cartouche, in the same style as the rest of the plate, inscribed, 'Allowed for reading .... days. Forfeiture, ... d. per day.' Mr. J. Paul Rylands, in his interesting Notes on Book-Plates, tells us that this library, now the Lyceum, was founded on the 1st of May 1758; the book-plate was, no doubt, engraved soon afterwards, as all the ornamentation introduced is certainly 'Chippendale.' So, too, is that on the book-plate engraved by John Pine in 1750, which the Benchers of Gray's Inn used for their volumes. Here a shell-shaped shield, bearing the arms of the 'Learned and Honourable Society,' is apparently fastened on to a background of book-shelves filled with books. So much for the 'Library Interiors.' The arrangement of the volumes in the other book-plates in which books form the chief feature of decoration, is generally like that shown opposite in the book-plate of William Hewer, a Commissioner of the Navy, and the friend and secretary of Samuel Pepys. How the scroll, on which are either the owner's arms or his name, is supported, is not clear.

The book-plate of Sir Philip Sydenham, dated 1699, when he was, as he tells us, twenty-three years of age, offers another interesting example of the Book-Pile design; Sir Philip shows us his coat of arms on the face of the scroll, on the lower roll of which, in very small letters, is written the inscription. Apparently neither this nor any of his other book-plates completely satisfied him, for during the remaining forty years of his life he had more than half-a-dozen different plates designed, and nearly all of these are found in various 'states.' There are, Mr. Fincham tells me, some sixteen varieties of Sir Philip's book-plate; many of his books are now in Sion College Library. In the book-plate of White Kennett, who filled the See of Peterborough from 1718 to 1728, we see how the emblems of episcopacy are treated when introduced into book-plates of this type. White Kennett had other book-plates; the rarest and earliest, engraved when he was at college, is in the 'Simple Armorial' style. These 'Book-Pile' plates appear at intervals down to the close of the century, and the style has been recently revived by book-plate designers; it is simple and certainly appropriate. The approximate date of each example may be generally gathered from the shape of the shield containing the arms, or the style of decoration around it.

We have yet to speak of by far the most numerous class of those English book-plates, which may be properly brought into our second division of 'Picture' book-plates—I mean the examples which represent upon them a landscape, either real or imaginary. The real landscapes represented have, of course, some direct reference to the plate; being a view, either of the owner's house, his park, his parish church, his town or village, of some particular spot in the immediate vicinity of his residence, or of some incident connected with his career or occupation—be it business, profession, or pleasure. For instance, Horace Walpole, in one of his book-plates, shows us a view of his 'Palace of Varieties' at Strawberry Hill (see [p. 106]). Again, Thomas Gosden, the angler sportsman and collector of angling literature, introduces into his book-plate all sorts of angling and sporting gear, even to a capacious whisky flask. 'The Hon^ble Robert Henry Southwell, Lieut. 1st Regiment of Horse, 1767,' flanks his shield with various kinds of military weapons and trophies; whilst 'Captain William Locker, Royal Navy,' shows us the swelling bosom of a man-of-war 'foretop gallant' sail, on which is figured his coat of arms.

We will speak first of those book-plates on which the landscape is real, and we will call them 'View' plates. Probably the earliest of these is the very interesting one (see [p. 105]), which was engraved by Mynde about 1770 for the Library of the Public Record Office, then in the Tower of London; here we have a remarkably faithful representation of the historic building. The date at which the Tower book-plate was probably engraved adds to its interest. Plates in this style hardly appear at all before 1778 or 1780, and do not become common till five or six years later.

The book-plate of 'Peter Muilman of King S^t., London, and Kirby Hall, Castle Hedingham, Essex,' is one which, I think, may be classed among 'View' plates, since the ruins depicted on it have certainly the appearance of having been sketched from the remains of some feudal stronghold, perhaps from Castle Hedingham itself. In front of the ruins is a wooded lawn, on which two robust cupids are wrestling for the Muilman escutcheon. Kirby Hall is not shown: no doubt this was a comfortable Georgian house round the corner, where Peter and his family spent their summer holidays away from the bustle and smoke of King Street. Presumably, the ruins of the castle were left standing in the park for ornament's sake, to give a tone of feudalism to the Muilman domain, whose owner, save by his book-plate, is not known to fame. The plate was engraved by Terry of Paternoster Row, probably about 1775, so that this again is an early example of its kind.

Among other notable specimens of these 'View' book-plates may be mentioned that which Pye, a Birmingham engraver, executed for 'T. W. Greene' of Lichfield. Here we have an oval-shaped shield, bearing the arms of Greene, resting against a tree-stump. In the distance is a river, and Lichfield Cathedral. Later on, Pye engraved a very similar book-plate for another Lichfield man—an attorney named Nicholson, who went to live at Stockport. This shows Nicholson's residence on the margin of a sheet of water. The arms rest against a shattered oak-tree. A local view—one of Darlington—also appears on the book-plate of George Allen, who describes himself as of that town.

Collectors are wont to reckon as the most interesting example of a view book-plate the vignette of Horace Walpole's house at Strawberry Hill, with his arms hanging on a shield from a withered tree. Mr. Wheatley, however, who is inclined to attribute the design to Walpole's friend, Bentley, has suggested (Bibliographica, vol. iii. p. 88) that the vignette was never used as a book-plate, but was exclusively reserved as a kind of printer's device for the adornment of the books printed at the Strawberry Hill Press. Sir Wollaston Franks has four varieties of the vignette, one engraved on wood and three on copper; and I have certainly seen at least one of them doing duty as a book-plate, but whether rightfully or not it is impossible to say.

Modern examples of View book-plates were, till quite recently, rare. One of the quaintest is furnished by that used by the late Dr. Kendrick of Warrington, and engraved for him in 1855; here we have a view of the doctor's town as it was in 1783 and a picture of a 'loyal Warrington Volunteer' of 1798. Quite a useful historical print!

Now let me say a word about the Picture book-plates on which the landscape is a fancy one. Prominent amongst these is that of 'Gilbert Wakefield,' which shows us a pretty scene: a stag stoops to drink from a rivulet that trickles through a wood. Very much later in date is a charming vignette, representing a rock, over which a stream of water trickles and sparkles as it falls into a pool below. Ferns and flags grow in the pool. The book-plate belonged to Joseph Priestley, and on that account we mention it after Wakefield's. Priestley was quite as bitter a Dissenter and as ardent a controversialist as Gilbert Wakefield, though it is more as a man of science that most people remember him. His name is so intimately associated with Birmingham politics at the time of the French Revolution, that the fact of his book-plate being engraved by a Birmingham man—it is signed 'Allen sct. Birming^m'—becomes the more interesting, and enables us to assign the engraving to a marked period in the owner's life—the time when his friendship with Lord Shelburne began to cool, and when, settling down at Birmingham, he began work on his History of the Corruptions of Christianity. James Yates, who edited Priestley's collected works, used the same book-plate, after altering the name upon it.

Another delightfully rural scene is depicted on the book-plate of 'John Hews Bransby.' His motto reads, Breve et irreparabile tempus; and he shows a rustic landscape, in which the figures represented have evidently learnt the truth of the assertion. The sower scatters seed, the ploughboy is engaged with his team,—all are making the most of their time, yet there is no sign of hurry or bustle. The day is fine, but clouds hover in the sky. On the left, a cottage nestles in the trees, and the smoke from its chimney tells of the housewife within preparing a meal for those who are earning it by their labour without.

So much for landscapes having direct reference to the book-plates on which they appear. Often, however, the landscape is purely a fancy one, as that on the book-plate of Gregory Louis Way. A river flows through fields, and beside it sits an armour-coated knight, who is either wearied with the fight, or bowed down by the fickleness of his lady. His shield rests beside him, and on it are depicted the arms of Way. The moon sheds upon the scene what light she is able, but the sky is overcast and stormy.

I must not close this chapter without reference to the book-plates produced by Thomas Bewick, many of which are familiar enough—as examples of Bewick's art—to those who know little about book-plates, and do not collect them. His are certainly for the most part 'Landscape' plates; but I do not know whether to class them with these examples of 'View' book-plates, or with those which I have christened 'Fancy Landscapes.' They were chiefly engraved for northern book-owners, but one can hardly say that the particular bit of scenery on each—though, doubtless, in most cases drawn from nature—has any special applicability to the owner. I will therefore speak here of Bewick's book-plates as forming a class by themselves. His first was prepared for Thomas Bell, and is dated 1797, so that it is inaccurate to speak of Bewick as the originator of the Landscape style in book-plates; he found the style already followed by many engravers, and his taste and skill brought it to perfection. The Bell plate is not uncommon, as the books for which it was engraved were sold in 1860. It shows, in the foreground of a landscape, an oval shield, inscribed 'T. Bell, 1797,' and resting against a decayed tree. In the distance are trees, and above them rises the tower of St. Nicholas's Church, in Newcastle—a favourite object with Bewick. It is also introduced by Ralph Beilby into the book-plate of Brand, the antiquary.

Out of the hundred or so book-plates designed or engraved by Bewick, it is difficult to know which to select for comment; but from the interest which attaches to its owner, that of Robert Southey (figured on [p. 111]) suggests itself. Here we have a rock, thickly crowned with shrubbery, from which a stream of water falls into a brook below. Against the face of the rock leans an armorial shield, bearing the Southey arms—a chevron between three crosses crosslet. On the ground to the right of the shield, and in contact with it, is the helmet, supporting on a wreath the crest—an arm vested and couped at the elbow, holding in the hand a crossed crosslet. Across the sinister chief corner of the shield, and trailing thence to the ground, is thrown the riband bearing the motto In labore quies. The date of the book-plate is probably about 1810.

Not only Newcastle itself, but the whole line of country along the river thence to Tynemouth, seems to have been Bewick's sketching ground, and many of his sketches he used for book-plates. Jarrow and Tynemouth itself were particularly favourite spots. Of the latter place his views were mostly taken from the sea, and afford us delightful pictures of water, shipping, and the ruins of Tynemouth Priory. The book-plate of 'Charles Charlton, M.D.,' is one of these.

SOUTHEY'S BOOK-PLATE BY BEWICK.

A great many of the ordinary bits of landscape which Bewick used for book-plates he afterwards utilised as tailpieces for various books illustrated by him. The book-plate of the 'Rev. H. Cotes, Vicar of Bedlington, 1802,' which shows us the reverend gentleman busily engaged in fishing, doubtless a favourite sport with him, is an instance of this diverted use; but in this case we know the history of the plate. Mr. Cotes had practically edited the artist's second volume of British Birds, and, as a slight return, Bewick prepared for him the book-plate in question; but, owing to a subsequent quarrel, the artist never gave the parson the block, turning it instead to his own account.

There are a great many more copper-plate book-plates by Bewick than is generally supposed. One of the most elaborate is that of 'Buddle Atkinson,' which represents a bubbling trout-stream, into which an angler casts his line: in the foreground is a crest enclosed in a shield. Other copper-plate work by Bewick is found in the book-plates of 'Edward Moises, A.M.'—a shield of arms, with books, pens, artists' tools of all kinds, and musical instruments; 'James Charlton' and 'A. Clapham'—Tyneside scenes; 'J. H. Affleck, Newcastle-upon-Tyne'—a shield of arms, in the midst of flowers and foliage; 'Tho^s Carr, Newcastle'—a spring of water flowing from a rock; and some few others.

Examples of the more unusual designs in Bewick's book-plates, i.e. those in which scenery is not depicted, are found in the book-plates of 'John Anderson, St. Petersburgh'—a sportsman on horseback, which was afterwards utilised as a vignette in British Birds; 'Mr. Bigges'—a figure of liberty; 'Alex^r Doeg, shipbuilder'—a just-completed ship, still standing on the stocks; and several others, which simply show the shield of arms and owner's name.

One reason why Bewick was so successful as an engraver of book-plates lay in the fact that his ability was most conspicuous in a small design. The work of such men as Hogarth or Bartolozzi seems cramped when it appears on the small scale which alone a book-plate can admit; but with Bewick, the smaller the size of the scene he desired to represent, the greater was his skill in introducing into it both originality and beauty.

CHAPTER VI

GERMAN BOOK-PLATES

I have said that the use of book-plates, whether as commemorative of gifts or as marks of ownership, originated in Germany. Here, well before the close of the fifteenth century, we find at least three undoubted book-plates, examples of which have survived until the present day, and have recently been discovered fulfilling the function for which they were originally intended.

Fastened to the cover of an old Latin vocabulary was discovered the most ancient of these book-plates. It is printed from a wood-block, and is rough in execution. It shows us a hedgehog carrying a flower in its mouth, trampling over fallen leaves; above is the inscription, 'Hans Igler, das dich ein igel kuss.'