THE DECORATIVE PAGE.
To turn next to the more decorative side of modern illustration, where
design and the _ensemble_ of a printed page are more considered, it is
pleasant to be able to draw attention to the work of an art school,
where an educated and intelligent mind seems to have been the presiding
genius; where the illustrators, whilst they are fully imbued with the
spirit of the past, have taken pains to adapt their methods to modern
requirements. I refer to the Birmingham Municipal School of Art.
[Illustration: No. XXXVII.
_Decorative Page_, by A. J. GASKIN.
(From Hans Andersen's _Fairy Tales_. London: George Allen.)
This is a good example of the appropriate decoration of a page
without any illustration in the ordinary sense of the word. The
treatment of ornament harmonises well with old-faced type letter.
The original was drawn in pen and ink, about _the same size_ as the
reproduction. The ground is excellent in colour, almost equal to a
wood engraving.
This is another example of the possibilities of process, rightly
handled, and also of effect produced _without reduction_ of the
drawing.]
Whilst using wood engraving freely, the illustrators of Birmingham
(notably Mr. Gaskin), are showing what can be done in line drawing by
the relief processes, to produce colour and ornament which harmonise
well with the letterpress of a book. This seems an important step in the
right direction, and if the work emanating from this school were less,
apparently, confined to an archaic style, to heavy outline and mediaeval
ornament (I speak from what I see, not knowing the school personally),
there are possibilities for an extended popularity for those who have
worked under its influence.[22]
The examples of decorative pages by experienced illustrators like Mr.
Walter Crane and others, will serve to remind us of what some artists
are doing. But the band of illustrators who consider design is much
smaller than it should be, and than it will be in the near future. A
study of the past, if it be only in the pages of mediaeval books, will
greatly aid the student of design. In the Appendix I have mentioned a
few fine examples of decorative pages, with and without illustrations,
which may be usefully studied at the British Museum.
[Illustration: No. XXXVIII.]
In all these pages, it will be observed, what is called "colour" in
black and white is preserved throughout; showing that a page can be
thoroughly decorative without illustrations to the text. Closely
criticised, some of the old block designs may appear crude and capable
of more skilful treatment, but the pages, as a rule, show the artistic
sense--unmistakably, mysteriously, wonderfully.
In these and similar pages, such, for instance, as _Le Mer des
Histoires_, produced in Paris by Pierre le Rouge in 1488 (also in the
British Museum), the harmony of line drawing with the printed letters is
interesting and instructive. (_See Appendix._)
It is in the production of the decorative page that wood engraving
asserts 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 glass
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.
[Illustration: No. XXXIX.
DESIGN FOR THE TITLE 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, coarse-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 substitution 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 illustrators
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 noblest 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!
[Illustration]
[Illustration: 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 passages 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 surpassed.]
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.