In fact, from what I can tell, it has most of the information you need to know about it right on the gun itself. That information, and the function of the gun, suggested what we had was a Belgian-made Flobert Cadet Rifle produced near the end of the 19th century and designed by none other than the father or rimfire metallic cartridges, Louis-Nicolas Flobert.
History of the Flobert Rifle
First, I’ll start by saying I’m no expert on Flobert guns, and this one is still very new to me. It’s also worth noting that there are quite a few firearms that bear the name Flobert, to include shotguns, pistols, and rifles. Most of the rifles I have seen in my research, however, lack the full-length wooden stock that rides the barrel almost to the front sight post (more on that later).
What’s more, I’ve come across some debates revolving around these rifles and the Flobert cartridges, which varied even in the rifles. The debate is sometimes over the use of “Flobert” as a generic term for gallery guns and calibers regardless of manufacturer or design.
Regardless, Flobert rifles akin to this one were hardly uncommon in the United States at the turn of the 19th century. They flowed into the country as budget-friendly firearms – Belgium being a primary producer – that were “safe” plinkers in their low-power chamberings. Flobert firearms were common gallery guns and some might even qualify as a garden gun, which would be a fairly harmless pest remover with the right rounds.
These guns came into the American market in the mid to end of the 19th century. Versions could be had just above or below the $2 price range with some variation over time and models. That made these guns highly budget friendly firearms well below the equivalent of $100 today if you grabbed them from a catalog. In 1920, the price was around $2.50, which would place the investment in a new Flobert at a princely sum of around $36 today.
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The function of these Flobert breechloaders also varied, with this one featuring a U-shaped extractor and a breech block that hosts the firing pin separate from the hammer. Yet, there were some signs that this rifle was not just a plinker and suggested it was meant for another purpose.
In fact, the rifles were so charmingly small that they’re often mistaken as children’s toys when they turn up in a family’s attic or an old estate sale. That’s not a terribly unforgivable mistake, given that much of the function of these guns was in fact play – in the form of gallery shooting. But that didn’t quite fit this rifle, not in my estimation at least (with some early hints from my dad).
What Do We Have Here?
Most of the Flobert rifles I’ve seen in my search for information on the gun have an abbreviated stock that only runs a short portion of the barrel. This one runs nearly the full length of the gun, though it has sadly warped pretty aggressively along the barrel. That is not uncommon with the stocks that have thin wood, which tends to be more prone to distortion. Still, all things considered, it seemed a rather rare and unique variant.
I also quickly noted that this otherwise “plinker” had sling swivels akin to a military-style rifle of the time – minus a stacking swivel. The 8mm chambering also didn’t match most of the Floberts that I found, and the overall shape and presentation of the gun right down to the trigger guard just looked like a service-style design.
With some digging, between the gun’s features and the 8mm chambering – common in the “Cadet” variants – I feel quite convinced this was actually a cadet training rifle. It would have been great for teaching basic marksmanship, reloading, drill, and lent itself to shooting on the cheap. It’s light and small at 4.75 pounds and measuring 42.75 inches in length (with the warped stock), so it would have sufficed for a smaller framed shooter. It also hosts a round 28-inch barrel with a hex receiver that is rifled.
What’s in a Proof?
I’m hardly an expert in European proof marks, much less Belgian ones. But my initial impressions of this rifle after some quick digging provided some other hints to its origin. The markings are Belgian, and it was inspected and proved not only as a rifle but as a breech loader with some additional markings suggesting the barrel conformed to the German Proof Law of 1891, giving us a better idea of the gun’s age.
The “breech” inspection proof also appears as a small tower on the hammer, breech block, and barrel. In fact, though I have seen Cadet examples without it, this rifle appears to have been serialized – possibly after leaving the manufacturer – with “46” marked on both the breech block and the barrel.
Again, I’m a novice, and surely there’s some more digging to be done before I can be certain of this gun’s history. Thankfully, the European tradition of using proof houses is certainly a helpful guide on that journey, and it’s pretty fun chasing after the meanings behind the markings.
Hey, I might even be totally wrong, so if you know more about it than I do, please feel free to save me some time and drop a comment down below. There are gun collectors out there who have forgotten more about old firearms than I’ve yet to learn.
Enjoying the Journey
For all we can learn from the gun, there are parts of its past that will likely go unknown forever, such as the three hand cut "X"s on the bottom of the stock. Are they a count of past owners? Records of successful shoots? The carvings of a bored cadet? Who knows, really, but they nevertheless lend character to the gun and provide a sort of evidence to the fact that human hands once spent a fair bit of time with the rifle, enough to warrant marking it near the shooter’s grip.
I take pleasure in solving a mystery, but you unearth so much more history and knowledge by chasing after the story of an old gun. I love my range days, and I won’t shake my head at a new firearm. But the old ones actually make me hit the books again and try and learn something new almost every single time.
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