One who has carefully studied the illustrations in early-printed books—from printer’s mark on title-page to colophon—cannot fail to be struck with the manly and vigorous style of drawing in the cuts, shewing a real grasp of the subject and mastery of detail, and while we may be amused at the quaint conceits, and somewhat crude lines, we cannot but be charmed with the natural simplicity of the drawing, though lacking almost entirely in local colour. In the infancy of the art of engraving on wood, it necessarily followed that there should be some want of refinement in the execution. The engraver on wood was born very young, and had to grope his way by tedious practice to acquire skill and knowledge for his work. The artist, on the contrary, like Minerva, came into being fully equipped, or, to be literal, he already existed; with mature experience he adapted his skill to the requirements of the new art, the first and most important being that, as the tools of the engraver and the wood he used were unfitted for small details, the lines to be drawn by the artist on the wood must necessarily be few and well chosen.
The Brandenburg, or Buxheim plate, circa 1480.
[The oldest Ex Libris actually connected with a printed book.
See Ex Libris Journal, Vol. II., p. 71.]
Fig. 4.—DEVICE COMMONLY ATTRIBUTED TO CAXTON.
Caxton’s Mark.