It is in the production of the decorative page that wood engraving a.s.serts its supremacy still in some quarters, as may be seen in the beautiful books produced in England during the past few years by Mr.
William Morris, where artist, wood engraver, typefounder, papermaker, printer, and bookbinder work under the guiding spirit (when not the actual handwork) of the author. They are interesting to us rather as exotics; an attempt to reproduce the exact work of the past under modern conditions, conditions which render the price within reach only of a few, but they are at least a protest against the modern shams with which we are all familiar.
The nineteenth-century author"s love for the literature of his past has led him to imitate not only the style, but the outward aspect of old books; and by a series of frauds (to which his publisher has lent himself only too readily) to produce something which appears to be what it is not.
The genuine outcome of mediaeval thought and style--of patience and leisure--seems to be treated at the end of the nineteenth century as a fashion to be imitated in books, such as are to be seen under gla.s.s cases in the British Museum. It is to be feared that the twentieth-century reader, looking back, will see few traces worth preserving, either of originality or of individuality in the work of the present.
What are the facts? The typefounder of to-day takes down a Venetian writing-master"s copybook of the fifteenth century, and, imitating exactly the thick downward strokes of the reed pen, forms a set of movable type, called in printer"s language "old face"; a style of letter much in vogue in 1894, but the style and character of which belongs altogether to the past. Thus, with such aids, the man of letters of to-day--living in a whirl of movement and discovery--clothes himself in the handwriting of the Venetian scholar as deliberately as the Norwegian dons a bear-skin.
[Ill.u.s.tration: No. x.x.xIX.
DESIGN FOR THE t.i.tLE PAGE OF THE "HOBBY-HORSE." (SELWYN IMAGE.)
(_This is a reduction by process from a large quarto wood engraving_.)]
The next step is to present in his book a series of so-called "engravings," which are not engravings but reproductions by process of old prints. The "advance of science" in producing photo-relief blocks from steel and other _intaglio_ plates for the type printing press, at a small cost per square inch, is not only taking from the artistic value of the modern _edition de luxe_, but also from its interest and genuineness.
The next step is to manufacture rough-edged, coa.r.s.e-textured paper, purporting to be carefully "hand-made." The rough edge, which was a necessity when every sheet of paper was finished by hand labour, is now imitated successfully by machinery, and is handled lovingly by the bookworm of to-day, regardless of the fact that these roughened sheets can be bought by the pound in Drury-lane. The worst, and last fraud (I can call it no less) that can be referred to here is, that the clothing--the "skin of vellum"--that appropriately encloses our modern _edition de luxe_ is made from pulp, rags, and other _debris_. That the gold illuminations on the cover are no longer real gold, and that the handsomely bound book, with its fair margins, cracks in half with a "bang," when first opened, are other matters connected with the discoveries of science, and the subst.i.tution of machinery for hand labour, which we owe to modern enterprise and invention.[23]
Looking at the "decorative pages" in most books, and remembering the achievements of the past, one is inclined to ask--Is the "setting-out of a page" one of the lost arts, like the designing of a coin? What harmony of style do we see in an ordinary book? How many authors or ill.u.s.trators of books show that they care for the "look" of a printed page? The fact is, that the modern author shirks his responsibilities, following the practice of the greatest writers of our day. There are so many "facilities"--as they are called--for producing books that the author takes little interest in the matter. Mr. Ruskin, delicate draughtsman as he is known to be, has contributed little to the _ensemble_ or appearance of the pages that flow from the printing press of Mr. Allen, at Orpington. His books are well printed in the modern manner, but judged by examples of the past, a deadly monotony pervades the page; the master"s n.o.blest thoughts are printed exactly like his weakest, and are all drawn out in lines together as in the making of macaroni! Mr.
Hamerton, artist as well as author, is content to describe the beauty of forest trees, ferns and flowers, the variety of underwood and the like (nearly every word, in an article in the _Portfolio_, referring to some picturesque form or graceful line), without indicating the varieties pictorially on the printed page. The late Lord Tennyson and other poets have been content for years to sell their song by the line, little heeding, apparently, in what guise it was given to the world.
In these days the monotony of uniformity seems to pervade the pages, alike of great and small, and a letter from a friend is now often printed by a machine!
[Ill.u.s.tration]
[Ill.u.s.tration: No. XL.
"SCARLET POPPIES." (W. J. MUCKLEY.)
This beautiful piece of pen work by Mr. Muckley (from his picture in the Royal Academy, 1885) was too delicate in the finer pa.s.sages to reproduce well by any relief process (the pale lines having come out black); but as an example of breadth, and indication of surfaces in pen and ink, it could hardly be surpa.s.sed.]
FOOTNOTES:
[22] I mention this school as a representative one; there are many others where design and wood engraving are studied under the same roof with success in 1894.
[23] Mr. Cobden Sanderson"s lecture on BOOKBINDING, read before the "Arts and Crafts Society," is well worth the attention of book lovers.
CHAPTER VII.
AUTHOR, ILl.u.s.tRATOR, AND PUBLISHER.
Let us now consider shortly the Author, the Ill.u.s.trator, and the Publisher, and their influence on the appearance and production of a book. If it be impossible in these days (and, in spite of the efforts of Mr. William Morris and others, it seems to be impossible) to produce a genuine book in all its details, it seems worth considering in what way the author can stamp it with his own individuality; also to what extent he is justified in making use of modern appliances.
How far, then, may the author be said to be responsible for the state of things just quoted? Theoretically, he is the man of taste and culture _par excellence_; he is, or should be, in most cases, the arbiter, the dictator to his publisher, the chooser of style. The book is his, and it is his business to decide in what form his ideas should become concrete; the publisher aiding his judgment with experience, governing the finance, and carrying out details. How comes it then that, with the present facilities for reproducing anything that the hand can put upon paper, the latter-day nineteenth-century author is so much in the hands of others as to the appearance of his book? It is because the so-called educated man has not been taught to use his hands as the missal-writers and authors of mediaeval times taught themselves to use theirs. The modern author, who is, say, fifty years old, was born in an age of "advanced civilisation," when the only method of expression for the young was one--"pothooks and hangers." The child of ten years old, whose eye was mentally forming pictures, taking in unconsciously the facts of perspective and the like, had a pencil tied with string to his two first fingers until he had mastered the ups and downs, crosses and dashes, of modern handwriting, which has been accepted by the great, as well as the little, ones of the earth, as the best medium of communication between intelligent beings; and so, regardless of style, character, or picturesqueness, he scribbles away! So much for our generally straggling style of penmanship.
There is no doubt that the author of the future will have to come more into personal contact with the artist than he has been in the habit of doing, and that the distinction I referred to in the first chapter, between ill.u.s.trations which are to be (1) records of facts, and (2) works of art, will have to be more clearly drawn.
Amongst the needs in the community of book producers is one that I only touch upon because it affects the ill.u.s.trator:--That there should be an expert in every publishing house to determine (1) whether a drawing is suitable for publication; and (2) by what means it should be reproduced.
The resources of an establishment will not always admit of such an arrangement; but the editors and publishers who are informed on these matters can easily be distinguished by the quality of their publications. By the subst.i.tution of process blocks for wood engravings in books, publishers are deprived to a great extent of the fostering care of the master wood engraver, to which they have been accustomed.
Amongst the influences affecting the ill.u.s.trator, none, I venture to say, are more prejudicial than the acceptance by editors and publishers of inartistic drawings.
It would be difficult, I think, to point to a period when so much bad work was produced as at present. The causes have already been pointed out, the beautiful processes for the reproduction of drawings are scarcely understood by the majority of artists, publishers, authors, or critics. It is the _misuse_ of the processes in these hurrying days, which is dragging our national reputation in the mire and perplexing the student.
The modern publisher, it may be said without offence, understands the manufacture and the commerce of a book better than the art in it. And how should it be otherwise? The best books that were ever produced, from an artistic point of view, were inspired and designed by students of art and letters, men removed from the commercial scramble of life, and to whom an advertis.e.m.e.nt was a thing unknown! The ordinary art education of a publisher, and the mult.i.tude of affairs requiring his attention, unfit him generally, for the task of deciding whether an ill.u.s.tration is good or bad, or how far--when he cheapens the production of his book by using photographic ill.u.s.trations ("snap-shots" from nature)--he is justified in calling them "art." The deterioration in the character of book ill.u.s.tration in England is a serious matter, and public attention may well be drawn to it.
Here we look for the active co-operation of the author. The far-reaching spread of education--especially technical art education--is tending to bring together, as they were never brought before in this century, the author and the ill.u.s.trator. The author of a book will give more attention to the appearance of his pages, to the decorative character of type and ornament, whilst the average artist will be better educated from a literary point of view; and, to use a French word for which there is no equivalent, will be more _en rapport_ with both author and publisher.
For the ill.u.s.trator by profession there seems no artistic leisure; no time to do anything properly in this connection.
"It is a poor career, Blackburn," said a well-known newspaper ill.u.s.trator to me lately (an artist of distinction and success in his profession who has practised it for twenty years), "you seldom give satisfaction--not even to yourself."
"It is an _ideal career_," says another, a younger man, who is content with the more slap-dash methods in vogue to-day--and with the income he receives for them.
Referring again to the question in the _Athenaeum_, "Why is not drawing for the press taught in our Government schools of art?" I think the princ.i.p.al reasons why the art of ill.u.s.tration by the processes is not generally taught in art schools are--
(1) drawing for reproduction requires more personal teaching than is possible in art cla.s.ses in public schools; (2) the art masters throughout the country, with very few exceptions, _do not understand the new processes_--which is not to be wondered at.
It is not the fault of the masters in our schools of art that students are taught in most cases as if they were to become painters, when the only possible career for the majority is that of ill.u.s.tration, or design. The masters are, for the most part, well and worthily occupied in giving a good groundwork of knowledge to every student, as to drawing for the press. There is no question that the best preparation for this work is the _best general art teaching that can be obtained_. The student must have drawn from the antique and from life; he must have learned composition and design; have studied from nature the relative values of light and shade, aerial perspective and the like; in short, have followed the routine study for a painter whose first aim should be to be a master of monochrome.
In the more technical parts, which the young ill.u.s.trator by process will require to know, he needs personal help. He will have a mult.i.tude of questions to ask "somebody" as to the reasons for what he is doing; _for what style of process work he is by touch and temperament best fitted_, and so on. All this has to be considered if we are to keep a good standard of art teaching for ill.u.s.tration.
The fact that _a pen-and-ink drawing which looks well scarcely ever reproduces well_, must always be remembered. Many drawings for process, commended in art schools for good draughtsmanship or design, will not reproduce as expected, for want of exact knowledge of the requirements of process; whereas a drawing by a trained hand will often _look better in the reproduction_. These remarks refer especially to ornament and design, to architectural drawings and the like.
The topical ill.u.s.trator and sketcher in weekly prints has, of course, more licence, and it matters less what becomes of his lines in their rapid transit through the press. Still the ill.u.s.trator, of whatever rank or style, has a right to complain if his drawing is reproduced on a scale not intended by him, or by a process for which it is not fitted, or if printed badly, and with bad materials.
But the sketchy style of ill.u.s.tration seems to be a little overdone at present, and--being tolerable only when allied to great ability--remains consequently in the hands of a few. There is plenty of talent in this country which is wasted for want of control. It plays about us like summer lightning when we want the precision and accuracy of the telegraph.
The art of colour printing (whether it be by the intaglio processes, or by chromo-lithography, or on relief blocks) has arrived at such proficiency and has become such an important industry that it should be mentioned here. By its means, a beautiful child-face, by Millais, is scattered over the world by hundreds of thousands; and the reputation of a young artist, like Kate Greenaway, made and established. The latter owes much of her prestige and success to the colour-printer. Admitting the grace, taste, and invention of Kate Greenaway as an ill.u.s.trator, there is little doubt that, without the wood engraver and the example and sympathetic aid of such artists as H. S. Marks, R.A., Walter Crane, and the late Randolph Caldecott, she would never have received the praise bestowed upon her by M. Ernest Chesneau, or Mr. Ruskin. These things show how intimately the arts of reproduction affect reputations, and how important it is that more sympathy and communication should exist between all producers. In the ma.s.s of ill.u.s.trated publications issuing from the press the expert can discern clearly where this sympathy and knowledge exist, and where ability, on the part of the artist, has been allied to practical knowledge of the requirements of ill.u.s.tration.
The business of many will be to contribute, in some form, to the making of pictures and designs to be multiplied in the press; and, in order to learn the technique and obtain employment, some of the most promising pupils have to fall into the ways of the producers of cheap ill.u.s.trations, Christmas cards, and the like. On the other hand, a knowledge of the mechanical processes for reproducing drawings (as it is being pressed forward in technical schools) is leading to disastrous consequences, as may be seen on every railway bookstall in the kingdom.
In the "book of the future" we hope to see less of the "lath and plaster" style of ill.u.s.tration, produced from careless wash drawings by the cheap processes; fewer of the blots upon the page, which the modern reader seems to take as a matter of course. In books, as in periodicals, the ill.u.s.trator by process will have to divest himself, as far as possible, of that tendency to scratchiness and exaggeration that injures so many process ill.u.s.trations. In short, he must be more careful, and give more thought to the meaning of his lines and washes, and to the adequate expression of textures.
There is a great deal yet to learn, for neither artists nor writers have mastered the subject. Few of our best ill.u.s.trators have the time or the inclination to take to the new methods, and, as regards criticism, it is hardly to be expected that a reviewer who has a pile of ill.u.s.trated books to p.r.o.nounce upon, should know the reason of the failures that he sees before him. Thus the public is often misled by those who should be its guides as to the value and importance of the new systems of ill.u.s.tration.[24]
In conclusion, let us remember that everyone who cultivates a taste for artistic beauty in books, be he author, artist, or artificer, may do something towards relieving the monotony and confusion in style, which pervades the outward aspect of so many books. It is a far cry from the work of the missal writer in a monastery to the pages of a modern book, but the taste and feeling which was shown in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in the production of books, exists in the nineteenth, under difficult conditions.
In the "book of the future" the author will help personally, more than he has ever done, as I have already suggested. The subject is not half-ventilated yet, nor can I touch upon it further, but the day is not far distant when the power of the hand of the author will be tested to the utmost, and lines of all kinds will appear in the text. There is really no limit to what may be done with modern appliances, if only the idea is seized with intelligence.
Two questions, however, remain unanswered--(1) Whether, as a matter of language and history, we are communicating information to each other much better than the ancients did in cuneiform inscriptions, on stones and monuments. (2) Whether, as a matter of ill.u.s.trative art, we are making the best use of modern appliances.
Let us, then, cultivate more systematically the art of drawing for the press, and treat it as a worthy profession. Let it not be said again, as it was to me lately by one who has devoted half a lifetime to these things, "The processes of reproduction are to hand, but where are our artists?" Let it not be said that the chariot-wheels of the press move too fast for us--that chemistry and the sun"s rays have been utilised too soon--that, in short, the processes of reproduction have been perfected before their time! I think not, and that an art--the art of pictorial expression--which has existed for ages and is now best understood by the j.a.panese, may be cultivated amongst us to a more practical end.