There is an edition of Alciati printed at Lyons (Bonhomme), 1551, a reprint of which was published by the Holbein Society in 1881. The figure designs and the square woodcut subjects are supposed to be the work of Solomon Bernard—called the little Bernard—born at Lyons in 1522. These are surrounded by elaborate and rather heavy decorative borders, in the style of the later Renaissance, by another hand, some of them bearing the monogram P.V., which has been explained to mean either Pierino del Vaga, the painter (a pupil of Raphael's), or Petro de Vingles, a printer of Lyons.
GERMAN SCHOOL. XVIth CENTURY.
| HANS SEBALD BEHAM. |
"DAS PAPSTTHUM MIT SEINEN GLIEDERN." (NUREMBERG, HANS WANDEREISEN, 1526.) |
These borders, as we learn from a preface to one of the editions ("Ad Lectorem"—Roville's Latin text of the emblems), were intended as patterns for various craftsmen. "For I say this is their use, that as often as any one may wish to assign fulness to empty things, ornament to base things, speech to dumb things, and reason to senseless things, he may, from a little book of emblems, as from an excellently well-prepared hand-book, have what he may be able to impress on the walls of houses, on windows of glass, on tapestry, on hangings, on tablets, vases, ensigns, seals, garments, the table, the couch, the arms, the sword, and lastly, furniture of every kind."
An emblem has been defined ("Cotgrave's Dictionary," Art. "Emblema") as "a picture and short posie, expressing some particular conceit;" and by Francis Quarles as "but a silent parable;" and Bacon, in his "Advancement of Learning," says:—"Embleme deduceth conceptions intellectuall to images sensible, and that which is sensible more fully strikes the memory, and is more easily imprinted than that which is intellectual."
All was fish that fell into the net of the emblem writer or deviser; hieroglyphic, heraldry, fable, mythology, the ancient Egyptians, Homer, ancient Greece and Rome, Christianity, or pagan philosophy, all in their turn served
"To point a moral and adorn a tale."
As to the artistic quality of the designs which are found in these books, they are of very various quality, those of the earlier sixteenth century with woodcuts being naturally the best and most vigorous, corresponding in character to the qualities of the contemporary design. Holbein's "Dance of Death," or rather "Images and Storied Aspects of Death," its true title, might be called an emblem book, but very few can approach it in artistic quality. Some of the devices in early editions of the emblem books of Giovio, Witney, and even the much later Quarles have a certain quaintness; but though such books necessarily depended on their illustrations, the moral and philosophic, or epigrammatic burden proved in the end more than the design could carry, when the impulse which characterized the early Renaissance had declined, and design, as applied to books, became smothered with classical affectation and pomposity, and the clear and vigorous woodcut was supplanted by the doubtful advantage of the copper-plate. The introduction of the use of the copper-plate marks a new era in book illustration, but as regards their decoration, one of distinct decline. While the surface-printed block, whether woodcut or metal engraving (by which method many of the early book illustrations were rendered) accorded well with the conditions of the letter-press printing, as they were set up with the type and printed by the same pressure in the same press. With copper-plate quite other conditions came in, as the paper has to be pressed into the etched or engraved lines of the plate, instead of being impressed by the lines in relief of the wood or the metal. Thus, with the use of copper-plate illustrations in printed books, that mechanical relation which exists between a surface-printed block and the letter-press was at once broken, as a different method of printing had to be used. The apparent, but often specious, refinement of the copper-plate did not necessarily mean extra power or refinement of draughtsmanship or design, but merely thinner lines, and these were often attained at the cost of richness and vigour, as well as decorative effect.
The first book illustrated with copper-plate engravings, however, bears an early date—1477. ["El Monte Sancto di Dio." Niccolo di Lorenzo, Florence]. In this case it was reserved for the full page pictures. The method does not seem to have commended itself much to the book designers, and did not come into general use until the end of the sixteenth century, with the decline of design.
The encyclopædic books of this period—the curious compendiums of the knowledge of those days—were full of entertaining woodcuts, diagrams, and devices, and the various treatises on grammar, arithmetic, geometry, physiology, anatomy, astronomy, geography, were made attractive by them, each section preceded perhaps by an allegorical figure of the art or science discoursed of in the costume of a grand dame of the period. The herbals and treatises on animals were often filled with fine floral designs and vigorous, if sometimes half-mythical, representations of animals.
There are fine examples of plant drawing in a beautiful herbal ("Fuchsius: De Historia Stirpium"; Basle, Isingrin, 1542). They are not only faithful and characteristic as drawings of the plants themselves, but are beautiful as decorative designs, being drawn in a fine free style, and with a delicate sense of line, and well thrown upon the page. At the beginning of the book is a woodcut portrait of the author, Leonard Fuchs—possibly the fuchsia may have been named after him—and at the end is another woodcut giving the portrait of the artist, the designer of the flowers, and the draughtsman on wood and the formschneider, or engraver on wood, beneath, who appears to be fully conscious of his own importance. The first two are busy at work, and it will be noticed the artist is drawing from the flower itself with the point of a brush, the brush being fixed in a quill in the manner of our water-colour brushes. The draughtsman holds the design or paper while he copies it upon the block. The portraits are vigorously drawn in a style suggestive of Hans Burgmair. HERBALS. Good examples of plant drawing which is united with design are also to be found in Matthiolus (Venice, 1583), and in a Kreuterbuch (Strasburg, 1551), and in Gerard's Herbal, of which there are several editions.
As examples of design in animals, there are some vigorous woodcuts in a "History of Quadrupeds," by Conrad Gesner, printed by Froschover, of Zurich, in 1554. The porcupine is as like a porcupine as need be, and there can be no mistake about his quills. The drawings of birds are excellent, and one of a crane (as I ought, perhaps, more particularly to know) is very characteristic.
ITALIAN SCHOOL. XVIth CENTURY.
(TOSCULANO, ALEX. PAGANINI, 1520.)
(Comp. Dürer's title page, Nuremberg, 1523.)
But we have passed the Rubicon—the middle of the sixteenth century. Ripening so rapidly, and blossoming into such excellence and perfection as did the art of the printer, and design as applied to the printed page, through the woodcut and the press, their artistic character and beauty was somewhat short-lived. Up to about this date (1554 was the date of our last example), as we have seen, to judge only from the comparatively few specimens given here, what beautiful books were printed, remarkable both for their decorative and illustrative value, and often uniting these two functions in perfect harmony; but after the middle of the sixteenth century both vigour and beauty in design generally may be said to have declined. Whether the world had begun to be interested in other things—and we know the great discovery of Columbus had made it practically larger—whether discovery, conquest, and commerce more and more filled the view of foremost spirits, and art was only valued as it illustrated or contributed to the knowledge of or furtherance of these; whether the Reformation or the spirit of Protestantism, turning men's minds from outward to inward things, and in its revolt against the half paganized Catholic Church—involving a certain ascetic scorn and contempt for any form of art which did not serve a direct moral purpose, and which appealed to the senses rather than to the emotions or the intellect—practically discouraged it altogether. Whether that new impulse given to the imagination by the influence of the revival of Classical learning, poetry, and antique art, had become jaded, and, while breaking with the traditions and spirit of Gothic or Mediæval art, began to put on the fetters of authority and pedantry, and so, gradually overlaid by the forms and cerements of a dead style, lost its vigour and vitality—whether due to one or all of these causes, certain it is that the lamp of design began to fail, and, compared with its earlier radiance, shed but a doubtful flicker upon the page through the succeeding centuries.
[1] This is the date of the copy from which the illustration is reproduced. The first edition of the book was, however, probably issued about 1480.
[2] The first French edition is dated 1546.
s I indicated at the outset of the first chapter, my purpose is not to give a complete historical account of the decoration and illustration of books, but rather to dwell on the artistic treatment of the page from my own point of view as a designer. So far, however, the illustrations I have given, while serving their purpose, also furnished a fair idea of the development of style and variation of treatment of both the MS. and printed book under different influences, from the sixth to the close of the sixteenth century, but now I shall have to put on a pair of seven-league boots, and make some tremendous skips.
We have seen how, at the period of the early Renaissance, two streams met, as it were, and mingled, with very beautiful results. The freedom, the romance, the naturalism of the later Gothic, with the newly awakened Classical feeling, with its grace of line and mythological lore. The rich and delicate arabesques in which Italian designers delighted, and which so frequently decorated, as we have seen, the borders of the early printer, owe also something to Oriental influence, as indeed their name indicates. The decorative beauty of these early Renaissance books were really, therefore, the outcome of a very remarkable fusion of ideas and styles. Printing, as an art, and book decoration attained a perfection it has not since reached. The genius of the greatest designers of the time was associated with the new invention, and expressed itself with unparalleled vigour in the woodcut; while the type-founder, being still under the influence of a fine traditional style in handwriting, was in perfect harmony with the book decorator or illustrator. Even geometric diagrams were given without destroying the unity of the page, as may be seen in early editions of Euclid, and we have seen what faithful and characteristic work was done in illustrations of plants and animals, without loss of designing power and ornamental sense.
This happy equilibrium of artistic quality and practical adaptation after the middle of the sixteenth century began to decline. There were designers, like Oronce Finé and Geoffroy Tory, at Paris, who did much to preserve the traditions in book ornament of the early Italian printers, while adding a touch of grace and fancy of their own, but for the most part the taste of book designers ran to seed after this period. The classical influence, which had been only felt as one among other influences, became more and more paramount over the designer, triumphing over the naturalistic feeling, and over the Gothic and Eastern ornamental feeling; so that it might be said that, whereas Mediæval designers sought after colour and decorative beauty, Renaissance designers were influenced by considerations of line, form, and relief. This may have been due in a great measure to the fact that the influence of the antique and Classical art was a sculpturesque influence, mainly gathered from statues and relievos, gems and medals, and architectural carved ornaments, and more through Roman than Greek sources. While suggestions from such sources were but sparingly introduced at first, they gradually seemed to outweigh all other motives with the later designers, whose works often suggest that it is impossible to have too much Roman costume or too many Roman remains, which crowd their Bible subjects, and fill their borders with overfed pediments, corpulent scrolls, and volutes, and their interstices with scattered fragments and attitudinizing personifications of Classical mythology. The lavish use of such materials were enough to overweight even vigorous designers like Virgil Solis, who though able, facile, and versatile as he was, seems but a poor substitute for Holbein.
FRENCH SCHOOL. XVIth CENTURY.
| DESIGNED BY ORONCE FINÉ. | (PARIS, SIMON DE COLINES, 1534.) |
(Comp. Dürer's title to Plutarch, 1513, and St. Ambrosius, 1520.)
What was at first an inspiriting, imaginative, and refining influence in art became finally a destructive force. The youthful spirit of the early Renaissance became clouded and oppressed, and finally crushed with a weight of pompous pedantry and affectation. The natural development of a living style in art became arrested, and authority, and an endeavour to imitate the antique, took its place.
The introduction of the copper-plate marked a new epoch in book illustration, and wood-engraving declined with its increased adoption, which, in the form it took, as applied to books, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, was certainly to the detriment and final extinction of the decorative side.
It has already been pointed out how a copper-plate, requiring a different process of printing, and exhibiting as a necessary consequence such different qualities of line and effect, cannot harmonize with type and the conditions of the surface-printed page, since it is not in any mechanical relation with them. This mechanical relation is really the key to all good and therefore organic design; and therefore it is that design was in sounder condition when mechanical conditions and relations were simpler. A new invention often has a dislocating effect upon design. A new element is introduced, valued for some particular facility or effect, and it is often adopted without considering how—like a new element in a chemical combination—it alters the relations all round.
Copper-plate engraving was presumably adopted as a method for book-illustration for its greater fineness and precision of line, and its greater command of complexity in detail and chiaroscuro, for its purely pictorial qualities, in short, and its adoption corresponded to the period of the ascendancy of the painter above other kind of artists.
As regards the books of the seventeenth century, while "of making many books there was no end," and however interesting for other than artistic reasons, but few would concern our immediate purpose. Woodcuts, headings, initials, tail-pieces, and printers' ornaments continued to be used, but greatly inferior in design and beauty of effect to those of the sixteenth century. The copper-plates introduced are quite apart from the page ornaments, and can hardly be considered decorative, although in the pompous title-pages of books of this period they are frequently formal and architectural enough, and, as a rule, founded more or less upon the ancient arches of triumph of Imperial Rome.
Histories and philosophical works, especially towards the end of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth centuries, were embellished with pompous portraits in frames of more or less classical joinery, with shields of arms, the worse for the decorative decline of heraldry, underneath. The specimen given is a good one of its type from a Venetian book of 1562, and gives the earlier form of this kind of treatment. Travels and topographical works increased, until by the middle of the eighteenth century we have them on the scale of Piranesi's scenic views of the architecture of ancient Rome.
The love of picturesqueness and natural scenery, or, perhaps, landscape gardening, gradually developing, concentrated interest on qualities the antithesis of constructive and inventive design, and drew the attention more and more away from them, until the painter, pure and simple, took all the artistic honours, and the days of the foundation of academies only confirmed and fixed the idea of art in this restricted sense in the public mind.
Hogarth, who availed himself of the copper-plate and publication in book form of his pictures, was yet wholly pictorial in his sympathies, and his instincts were dramatic and satiric rather than decorative. Able painter and designer as he was in his own way, the interest of his work is entirely on that side, and is rather valuable as illustrating the life and manners of his time than as furnishing examples of book illustration, and his work certainly has no decorative aim, although no doubt quite harmonious in an eighteenth century room.
Chodowiecki, who did a vast quantity of steel frontispieces and illustrations for books on a small scale, with plenty of character, must also be regarded rather as a maker of pictures for books than as a book decorator. He is sometimes mentioned as kindred in style to Stothard, but Stothard was much more of an idealist, and had, too, a very graceful decorative sense from the classical point of view. His book designs are very numerous, chiefly engraved on steel, and always showing a very graceful sense of line and composition. His designs to Rogers' "Poems," and "Italy," are well-known, and, in their earlier woodcut form, his groups of Amorini are very charming.
Flaxman had a high sense of sculpturesque style and simplicity, and great feeling and grace as a designer, but he can hardly be reckoned as a book decorator. His well-known series to Homer, Hesiod, Æschylus, and Dante are strictly distinct series of illustrative designs, to be taken by themselves without reference to their incorporation in, or relation to, a printed book. Their own lettering and explanatory text is engraved on the same plate beneath them, and so far they are consistent, but are not in any sense examples of page treatment or spacing.
We now come to a designer of a very different type, a type, too, of a new epoch, whatever resemblance in style and method there may be in his work to that of his contemporaries. William Blake is distinct, and stands alone. A poet and a seer, as well as a designer, in him seemed to awake something of the spirit of the old illuminator. He was not content to illustrate a book by isolated copper or steel plates apart from the text, although in his craft as engraver he constantly carried out the work of others. When he came to embody his own thoughts and dreams, he recurred quite spontaneously to the methods of the maker of the MS. books. He became his own calligrapher, illuminator and miniaturist, while availing himself of the copper-plate (which he turned into a surface printing block) and the printing press for the reproduction of his designs, and in some cases for producing them in tints. His hand-coloured drawings, the borderings and devices to his own poems, will always be things by themselves.
His treatment of the resources of black and white, and sense of page decoration, may be best judged perhaps by a reference to his "Book of Job," which contains a fine series of suggestive and imaginative designs. We seem to read in Blake something of the spirit of the Mediæval designers, through the sometimes mannered and semi-classic forms and treatment, according to the taste of his time; while he embodies its more daring aspiring thoughts, and the desire for simpler and more humane conditions of life. A revolutionary fire and fervour constantly breaks out both in his verse and in his designs, which show very various moods and impulses, and comprehend a wide range of power and sympathy. Sometimes mystic and prophetic, sometimes tragic, sometimes simple and pastoral.
Blake, in these mixed elements, and the extraordinary suggestiveness of his work and the freedom of his thought, seems nearer to us than others of his contemporaries. In his sense of the decorative treatment of the page, too, his work bears upon our purpose. In writing with his own hand and in his own character the text of his poems, he gained the great advantage which has been spoken of—of harmony between text and illustration. They become a harmonious whole, in complete relation. His woodcuts to Phillip's "Pastoral," though perhaps rough in themselves, show what a sense of colour he could convey, and of the effective use of white line.
Among the later friends and disciples of Blake, a kindred spirit must have been Edward Calvert, whose book illustrations are also decorations; the masses of black and white being effectively distributed, and they are full of poetic feeling, imagination, and sense of colour. I am indebted for the first knowledge of them to Mr. William Blake Richmond, whose father, Mr. George Richmond, was a friend of William Blake and Calvert, as well as of John Linnell and of Samuel Palmer, who carried on the traditions of this English poetic school to our own times; especially the latter, whose imaginative drawings—glowing sunsets over remote hill-tops, romantic landscapes, and pastoral sentiment—were marked features in the room of the Old Water Colour Society, up to his death in 1881. His etched illustrations to his edition of "The Eclogues of Virgil," are a fine series of beautifully designed and poetically conceived landscapes; but they are strictly a series of pictures printed separately from the text. Palmer himself, in the account of the work given by his son, when he was planning the work, wished that William Blake had been alive to have designed his woodcut headings to the "Eclogues."[3]
To Thomas Bewick and his school is due the revival of wood-engraving as an art, and its adaptation to book illustration, quite distinct, of course, from the old knife-work on the plank. Bewick had none of the imaginative poetry of the designers just named, although plenty of humour and satire, which he compressed into his little tail-pieces. He shows his skill as a craftsman in the treatment of the wood block, in such works as his "British Birds;" but here, although the wood-engraving and type may be said to be in mechanical relation, there is no sense of decorative beauty or ornamental spacing whatever, and, as drawings, the engravings have none of the designer's power such as we found in the illustrations of Gesner and Matthiolus at Basle, in the middle of the sixteenth century. There is a very literal and plain presentment of facts as regards the bird and its plumage, but with scarcely more than the taste of the average stuffer and mounter in the composition of the picture, and no regard whatever to the design of the page as a whole.
XIXth CENTURY. EDWARD CALVERT.
| THE RETURN HOME. | |
| THE FLOOD. | |
| THE CHAMBER IDYLL. | |
| FROM THE ORIGINAL BLOCKS DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY EDWARD CALVERT. BRIXTON, 1827-8-9. |
XIXth CENTURY. EDWARD CALVERT.
| THE LADY AND THE ROOKS. | |
| IDEAL PASTORAL LIFE. | |
| THE BROOK. | |
| FROM THE BLOCKS DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED ON WOOD BY EDWARD CALVERT. BRIXTON, 1827-8-9. |
It was, however, a great point to have asserted the claims of wood-engraving, and demonstrated its capabilities as a method of book illustration.
Bewick founded a school of very excellent craftsmen, who carried the art to a wonderful degree of finish. In both his and their hands it became quite distinct from literal translation of the drawing, which, unless in line, was treated by the engraver with a line, touch, and quality all his own, the use of white line,[4] and the rendering of tone and tint necessitating a certain power of design on his part, and giving him as important a position as the engraver on steel held in regard to the translation of a painted picture.
Such a book as Northcote's "Fables," published 1828-29, each fable having a head-piece drawn on wood from Northcote's design by William Harvey—a well-known graceful designer and copious illustrator of books up to comparatively recent times—and with initial letters and tail-pieces of his own, shows the outcome of the Bewick school. Finally "fineness of line, tone, and finish—a misused word," as Mr. W. J. Linton says, "was preferred to the simple charm of truth." The wood engravers appeared to be anxious to vie with the steel engravers in the adornment of books, and so far as adaptation was concerned, they had certainly all the advantage on their side. The ornamental sense, however, had everywhere declined; pictorial qualities, fineness of line, and delicacy of tone, were sought after almost exclusively.
Such books as Rogers's "Poems" and "Italy," with vignettes on steel from Thomas Stothard and J. M. W. Turner, are characteristic of the taste of the period, and show about the high-water mark of the skill of the book engravers on steel. Stothard's designs are the only ones which have claims to be decorative, and he is always a graceful designer. Turner's landscapes, exquisite in themselves, and engraved with marvellous delicacy, do not in any sense decorate the page, and from that point of view are merely shapeless blots of printers' ink of different tones upon it, while the letterpress bears no relation whatever to the picture in method of printing or design, and has no independent beauty of its own. Book illustrations of this type—and it was a type which largely prevailed during the second quarter of the century—are simply pictures without frames.
No survey of book illustration would be complete which contained no mention of William James Linton—whom I have already quoted. I may be allowed to speak of him with a peculiar regard and respect, as I may claim him as a very kind early friend and master. As a boy I was, in fact, apprenticed to him for the space of three years, not indeed with the object of wielding the graver, but rather with that of learning the craft of a draughtsman on wood. This, of course, was before the days of the use of photography, which has since practically revolutionized the system not only of drawing for books but of engraving also. It was then necessary to draw on the block itself, and to thoroughly understand what kind of work could be treated by the engraver.
I shall always regard those early years in Mr. Linton's office as of great value to me, as, despite changes of method and new inventions, it gave me a thorough knowledge of the mechanical conditions of wood-engraving at any rate, and has implanted a sense of necessary relationship between design, material, and method of production—of art and craft, in fact—which cannot be lost, and has had its effect in many ways.
Mr. Linton, too, is himself a notable historic link, carrying on the lamp of the older traditions of wood-engraving to these degenerate days, when whatever wonders of literal translation, and imitation of chalk, charcoal, or palette and brushes, it has exhibited under spell of American enterprise—and I am far from denying its achievements as such—it cannot be said to have preserved the distinction and independence of the engraver as an artist or original designer in any sense. When not extinguished altogether by some form of automatic reproductive process, he is reduced to the office of "process-server"—he becomes the slave of the pictorial artist. The picturesque sketcher loves his "bits" and "effects," which, moreover, however sensational and sparkling they may be in themselves, have no reference as a rule to the decoration of the page, being in this sense no more than more or less adroit splashes of ink upon it, which the text, torn into an irregularly ragged edge, seems instinctively to shrink from touching, squeezing itself together like the passengers in a crowded omnibus might do, reluctantly to admit a chimney-sweep.
While, by his early training and practice, he is united with the Bewick school, Mr. Linton—himself a poet, a social and political thinker, a scholar, as well as designer and engraver—having been associated with the best-known engravers and designers for books during the middle of the century, and having had art of such a different temper and tendency as that of Rossetti pass through his hands, and seen the effect of many new impulses, is finally face to face with what he himself has called the "American New Departure." He is therefore peculiarly and eminently qualified for the work to which he has addressed himself—his great work on "The Masters of Wood Engraving," which appeared in 1889, and is in every way complete as a history, learned in technique, and sumptuous as a book.
I have not mentioned Gustave Doré, who fills so large a space as an illustrator of books, because though possessed of a weird imagination, and a poetic feeling for dramatic landscapes and grotesque characters, as well as extraordinary pictorial invention, the mass of his work is purely scenic, and he never shows the decorative sense, or considers the design in relation to the page. His best and most spirited and sincere work is represented by his designs in the "Contes Drolatiques."
The new movement in painting in England, known as the pre-Raphaelite movement, which dates from about the middle years of our century, was in every way so remarkable and far-reaching, that it is not surprising that it should leave its mark upon the illustrations of books; particularly upon that form of luxury known as the modern gift-book, which, in the course of the twenty years following 1850, often took the shape of selections from or editions of the poets plentifully sprinkled with little pictorial vignettes engraved on wood. Birket Foster, John Gilbert, and John Tenniel were leading contributors to these collections.
In 1857 appeared an edition of "Tennyson's Poems" from the house of Moxon. This work, while having the general characteristics of the prevailing taste—an accidental collection of designs, the work of designers of varying degrees of substance, temper, and feeling, casually arranged, and without the slightest feeling for page decoration or harmony of text and illustration—yet possessed one remarkable feature which gives it a distinction among other collections, in that it contains certain designs of the chief leaders of the pre-Raphaelite movement, D. G. Rossetti, Millais and Holman Hunt.
I give one of the Rossetti designs, "Sir Galahad"; the "S. Cecilia" and the "Morte d'Arthur" were engraved by the Brothers Dalziel, the "Sir Galahad" by Mr. W. J. Linton. It seems to me that the last gives the spirit and feeling of Rossetti, as well as his peculiar touch, far more successfully. These designs, in their poetic imagination, their richness of detail, sense of colour, passionate, mystic, and romantic feeling, and earnestness of expression mark a new epoch. They are decorative in themselves, and, though quite distinct in feeling, and original, they are more akin to the work of the Mediæval miniaturist than anything that had been seen since his days. Even here, however, there is no attempt to consider the page or to make the type harmonize with the picture, or to connect it by any bordering or device with the book as a whole, and being sandwiched with drawings of a very different tendency, their effect is much spoiled. In one or two other instances where Rossetti lent his hand to book illustration, however, he is fully mindful of the decorative effect of the page. I remember a title page to a book of poems by Miss Christina Rossetti, "Goblin Market," which emphatically showed this. The title-page designed for his "Early Italian Poets" (given here), and his sonnet on the sonnet too, in which the design encloses the text of the poem, written out by himself, are other instances.