BY GAVARNI.
FROM “PARISIANS BY THEMSELVES.”
Reduced from the wood-engraving.
But it seems best to begin with modern illustration in France, where the greatest activity has, until lately, existed. In the decade from 1875 to 1885, nowhere in the world were such big men working, or having their work so well reproduced. Fortuny and Rico, settled in Paris, were exhibiting their marvellous drawings. If Meissonier had ceased to illustrate, Doré, Detaille, De Neuville, and Jacquemart were at the height of their powers. The first great book illustrated by process appeared in the midst of this period: Vierge's "Pablo de Ségovie," published in 1882; while the last years saw the appearance of the Guillaume series which, it was believed, would prove to be the final triumph of process. At the same time Baude, Leveille, Lepère, and Florian were busy producing their masterpieces of wood-engraving. Publishing houses were issuing the most artistic journals, probably, the world has ever seen: "La Vie Moderne," "L'Art," "La Gazette des Beaux-arts," "Paris Illustré," "La Revue Illustrée," "Le Monde Illustré," "L'Illustration," and "Le Courrier Français."
But from 1885 onward, there has been a change, and this change is not difficult to account for. There are too many illustrators and too few publishers—I mean publishers worthy of the name—and, most important, too few real artists.
BY MEISSONIER.
FROM THE “CONTES REMOIS.”
Engraved on wood by Lavoignal.
When, in 1879, the new process of "Gillotage," as all process is described in France, was reasonably perfected—Jacquemart's "Histoire de Mobilier," being one of the first important books to be reproduced mechanically—every artist wished to try it. The consequence was that the catalogues of the Salon, the weekly papers and monthly magazines, were made bright and gay and charming with autographic artistic work; while wood-engravers, feeling that their art was in danger, were put upon their mettle and engraved a multitude of amazing blocks. Now that illustration has arrived, and by its aid many of the biggest men in France have arrived too, there has come a period of commonplaceness and content. The Frenchman, who is even more insular in his views of art than the Englishman,—unless his art is brought to him, when he proves himself catholic enough,—knows that bad work is being turned out in his own country, but believes that the same thing must be happening the world over, though he has heard vaguely of the American magazine, the German paper, and the English book. But since 1885, it may be said that every French periodical has fallen away in quality, if it has not ceased to appear altogether. The fine and expensive volumes, which in 1835 were published in France, have been succeeded by the three-franc-fifty Guillaume form, which, since the immortal "Tartarin," has degenerated steadily both in number and excellence of illustrations. Looking back on the original series, it does not seem so very fine, but eight years ago it was an enormous advance on anything that had been done. Even then, however, there was a rumour that this excellence was obtained at the expense of the artist, and that most of the clever work of Myrbach and of Rossi was more in the nature of an advertisement than anything else. It is perfectly well known that even Vierge had to await the generosity of an English publisher to recompense him for "Pablo de Ségovie." It will also be found that certain of the large French publishing houses and leading magazines have become limited companies, or "Sociétés Anonymes;" while men, who may be clever enough in business affairs, have been set to direct artistic matters of which they are entirely ignorant. If the standard of illustration is daily falling in France, this fall is owing mainly to the incompetence of editors and the rapacity of publishers. To-day, if one wishes to see the best work of French draughtsmen and engravers, one looks abroad for it, to America first and then to England and Germany, where French artists are forced to publish their drawings in order to obtain adequate pay or decent printing. It is pitiful, but the example is very contagious.
JEAN GIGOUX. FROM “GIL BLAS” (FRENCH).
Wood-engraving, unsigned.
Another cause too has operated against the production of fine books and fine magazines. This is the "Supplément littéraire et artistique" given away each week with papers like "Gil Blas," "L'Echo de Paris," "La Lanterne," "Le Petit Journal," and occasionally "Le Figaro." It is especially in "Gil Blas" that the best French work is now to be found, usually printed in colour. But most of the others—there are notable exceptions—either publish the veriest drivel and dirt, both from the literary and artistic standpoint, or else the drawings of mere boys and girls just out of the art schools, who give their designs to the publishers for little more than the sake of having their names in the papers. Under these circumstances, which actually exist, it is becoming well-nigh impossible for a draughtsman to live in France. Printing, too, has degenerated, until French printing now ranks with the worst.
