R.M. Butler's Bookplate

Celebrated for his otherworldly, jewel-toned stained glass, Harry Clarke was also a talented illustrator who satisfied a number of commissions for books, calendars, playing cards, and posters. Two treasures held in the Centre for the Study of Irish Art speak to these projects: a Christmas card and bookplate created by Clarke for Dublin-based architect, academic and journalist, Rudolph Maximilian Butler. Butler, known as R.M., first became acquainted with the Clarke Studios through Harry Clarke’s father, Joshua. Inevitably, the chosen professions of Harry Clarke and R.M. Butler warranted their close collaboration. The stained glass artist and the architect worked on a number of churches together and, in the process, exchanged proposal sketches, building measurements, and project updates. The designs which Harry Clarke created for R.M. Butler in 1923 may shed some light upon the two characters, as well as their working relationship.

Bookplates, also called ex libris (from Latin, meaning ‘from the books of’), are small prints, drawings, or paintings which are affixed to the inside covers of books in order to indicate ownership. The first instances of these objects emerged during the late 15th century, not long after Johannes Gutenberg’s invention of movable type – nor long after the advent of the printed book itself. Although the introduction of the printing press was revolutionary, books continued to be regarded as precious commodities. From the outset, bookplates were designed either by professional or amateur artists and almost exclusively portrayed the owner’s coat of arms. Given the wealth of these these patrons, combined with their conception of books as items of patrimony, the sustained preference for heraldic imagery – exceeding more than three centuries – is hardly surprising.

In the 19th century, however, there was a departure from the status quo, as the use of the ex libris extended into the middle class. The professionals who appropriated this tradition disregarded their lineage, and instead, sought to showcase their interests and achievements. As a result, this era saw the development of the first fully pictorial bookplates, as well as an increasing variety of potential imagery. In short, this ephemeral object, which originally stood as a mark of prestige, became a normative, accessible, and valued opportunity for self-expression.

It is certainly these later developments which both allowed and encouraged R.M. Butler to enlist Clarke’s creative services. As both a founder member of the Georgian Society and editor of the Irish Builder, Butler would have relished the occasion to celebrate his professional accomplishments. The print itself contains three figures in the foreground: a man, flanked by two women, all in 18th century costume. Here, Clarke is likely alluding to Butler’s aesthetic interest in the Georgian era, thereby linking the bookplate to its owner. Directly behind this primary group of figures is a stately home, identified by the accompanying Christmas card as 73 Ailesbury Road. This house was designed by R.M. Butler as his own place of residence. The artist’s representation of this structure conveys not only Butler’s ownership of the impressive dwelling, but also his skill as a talented architect.

Before settling upon the plate’s final composition, however, Clarke executed several preparatory sketches. One option showed a Hiberno-Romanesque church in Co. Mayo, which, like 73 Ailesbury Road, had been designed by Butler. An alternative suggestion was the depiction of a monk, presented in the act of drawing. These two proposals emphasized themes of religion, scholarship, and architectural prowess. Although each of these subjects were suitable to the character of Clarke’s client, they were, nevertheless, rejected. In all likelihood, the approved arrangement was successful chiefly because it communicated the nature of R.M. Butler –  his interests and his aspirations – in the most succinct sense.

It is clear that the ex libris is expressive of its owner, but what might the object tell us about the artist responsible for its inception? Both the bookplate and the Christmas card display the date of 1923. By that time, Harry Clarke would have seen the publication of his illustrations for The Fairy Tales of Perroult, along with several preceding projects for the same publisher, George Harrap. Setting aside Butler’s proclivity for the Georgian era, Clarke himself was known to depict characters in fashions similar to those observed in the bookplate. This is especially true of the figures in his work for Perroult, though these characters are styled more fancifully.

When comparing the bookplate to Clarke’s book illustrations, it appears that the artist favoured a greater level of ornamentation in the latter case. To be sure, his commission for Butler is refined and hints only slightly at the fanciful. Anything in excess of what is already visible within this image may well have been objectionable to the architect, given his well-documented conservative tendencies. As such, it is possible that Clarke tempered his default style on behalf of the bookplate’s intended recipient.

Artistic crossover is also evident in other elements of the plate. In 1923, the year that Harry Clarke completed the ex libris in question, George Harrap issued a second edition of Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination. This volume contained new illustrations by Clarke, along with a front cover inspired by the story ‘Morella’. Compared to his work for Butler, the figures on the book cover are costumed in a far more decorative manner, though their treatment is quite similar. Most interestingly, the posture of Morella is reminiscent of the posed figures in Butler's bookplate, particularly the woman on the right side. This borrowing indicates a level of cohesion and fluidity within Clarke’s artistic practice.

Undoubtedly, the Christmas card and bookplate are both beautiful, yet they are even more precious in their ability to provide us with a glimpse into the past. Given that the relationship between Harry Clarke and R.M. Butler is seldom discussed, it is fortunate that these items have been preserved, particularly on account of their ephemeral nature. In Clarke’s correspondence with Butler in 1925, the artist expressed his desire to keep a record of the book plate. While it is tempting to view such scraps of paper as insignificant, the fact that an artist like Clarke found value in even the most minuscule examples of his work – enough that he would aim to preserve them – should serve as sufficient grounds for reconsideration.

The NGI Archive holds a number of other bookplates, each with their own story to tell. The ‘golden age’ for collecting and appreciating these objects spanned from 1890 to the mid-1920s. Though there are ex libris societies at work today, the current audience is largely restricted to bibliophiles. With the popularity of e-books, audiobooks, and mass-market paperbacks, are bookplates now a relic of the past? Or are they destined to make a comeback? Perhaps someday there will be a place for the ex libris in the digital age, just as there remains room for the other, more tenacious types of ephemera.

Looking for more bookplates? Check out some of these digitized collections:

The Houghton Library 

The Frederikshavn Art Museum

Museum of Applied Arts

Clarke Studios Correspondence, Clarke Stained Glass Studios Collection, The Library of Trinity College Dublin.

Gordon Bowe, Nicola. The Life and Work of Harry Clarke. Blackrock: Irish Academic Press, 1989.

Hopkinson, Martin. Ex Libris: the Art of Bookplates. London: The British Museum Press, 2011.

Irish Architectural Archive. “Butler, Rudolf Maximilian.” Dictionary of Irish Architects 1720-1940. http://www.dia.ie/architects/view/807

Emily Mattern, MPhil in the History of Art and Architecture (2022), Department of History of Art and Architecture, Trinity College Dublin