Even Boucher condescended to engrave a few plates, of which, however, but three are known, and one only is signed.
With the multiplication of books in the eighteenth century came a proportionate decrease in their intrinsic value. With the exception of an occasional édition de luxe, or of books scarce only because they ought never to have existed at all, lovers of artistic bookbinding found their hobby almost useless.
Why spend pounds to bind a book which cost but a few shillings? Why put costly clothing on a child having 999 brothers, all so exactly similar that the father and mother, author and printer, could not discriminate between them? As the book was bought so it generally remained, or, as an especial honour, it might perhaps be put into half calf.
Exit whole morocco, with arms elaborately emblazoned on the sides, and monograms in dainty tooling on the back.
Enter modern book-plate.
Under the Bourbon Kings the government of France was an absolute monarchy tempered by epigrams, and regulated chiefly by priests, soldiers, and the ladies of the Court. The system was vicious and corrupt, but very simple, and eminently satisfactory to the privileged classes. It ruined France, but, whilst it lasted, the kings and their mistresses, the nobility, and the clergy, enjoyed most of the pleasures, and all the vices, this life could afford.
Of the military men who acquired power few appear to have indulged in literary tastes, or to have formed libraries. Many handsome ex-libris exist, carrying warlike trophies,—cannons, drums, tents, and flags,—such, for instance, as that of Claude Martin, but few indeed of these plates bear the names of any of the more famous French commanders. Even the plate of Murat (of later date) is doubtful, for what time had le beau sabreur for books?