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 édition 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 édition de luxe is made from pulp, rags, and other débris. 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!
