Half-tone from oil sketch in monochrome. (Original 10⅛ x 6½). [See p. [51.]]
Nor is this distinction out of place in the present work. The tendency to-day is too often to make a pretty picture rather than a good illustration; to sacrifice accuracy to beauty; to strive rather after the æsthetic pleasure in art, than the truth and fidelity of illustration. The artist is what he is from the possession of certain instinctive attributes which he is powerless to teach to another, whereas the simpler and expressive forms of draughtsmanship may be attained by almost all. From confusing art with illustration we find a man saying "I cannot do this, or that, because I am no artist," and it is with a hope of placing in the hands of such, at least to some extent, a means of graphic expression, that the present book has been undertaken.
Take also such a simple matter as a letter from a friend, and notice how often words alone fail to convey a correct impression, yet a few lines of simple form at once present a graphic description.
Mr. Blackburn gives a capital example of such a case in his "Art of Illustration." He says: "A newspaper correspondent is in a boat on one of the Italian lakes, and wishes to describe the scene on a calm summer day. This is how he proceeds:
"'We are shut in by mountains,' he says, 'but the blue lake seems as wide as the sea. On a rocky promontory on the left hand the trees grow down to the water's edge and the banks are precipitous, indicating the great depth of this part of the lake. The water is as smooth as glass; on its surface is one vessel, a heavily laden market boat' (and so on). There is no need to repeat it all; but when half a column of word-painting had been written (and well written) the correspondent failed to present the picture clearly to the eye without these four explanatory lines (no more) which should of course have been sent with his letter."
In the same way small sketch plans (no matter how roughly made) are of great assistance in describing the position of a fire, a murder, or anything else of public importance; not to mention the value such descriptive lines often are in private letters.
Whilst, then, Art and Illustration are distinct, and much of the latter may be within the reach of many to whom the former is impossible, there is no reason why either should needlessly offend the canons of the other. Art—seeking, as it should, to awaken a sense of pleasure in the beautiful—adheres to truth, in idea if not in fact. Illustration, which portrays fact truthfully, may yet do so in such manner as shall not annoy the cultivated and artistic senses; and this is the art of illustration.
Here, as in other matters, much depends on a knowledge and exercise of the mere technique or craftsmanship: the means to be employed, and the manner of employing them.
With pen or pencil we might satisfactorily produce such a diagram or drawing as should illustrate our speech, but the exigencies of such gigantic institutions of civilisation as books, magazines, and newspapers, demand that the same illustration shall be presented to thousands of readers at the same time. In former times the original drawing was copied by craftsmen on to wood or metal, and then carved so that a "block," containing the design in relief, might be set up in the printing press and printed in conjunction with the letterpress type.