Books Illustrated and Decorated

AMONG some recent specimens, which call for comment, of the essentially modern art of book illustration, it may be well, perhaps, to notice first the latest comer, Mrs. Celia Thaxter’s Island Garden,¹ illustrated by Mr. Childe Hassam. Like several recent publications of the kind, it is so well done that, in criticising it, one has rather to consider the general fitness of the work than the independent achievement of designer and bookmaker. It is a daintily bound and printed parlor or piazza edition of a book made up of glowing descriptions of the beauty of flowers and the delights of gardening, illustrated by color-prints. As such it undoubtedly represents a grade of success in make-up and reproduction which must be placed very high even when judged by an international standard. Many doubts have been raised as to the artistic quality of this standard, and it is now almost unnecessary to say that our modern colorprints, glossy in texture and ambitious in range of coloring, have not one fraction of the charm of a simple Japanese print. It is more to the point to venture the assertion that they have a charm of their own, which may be turned to artistic purpose. It is of the world worldly, suggesting the boulevards, and the Avenue de l’Opéra, and the frou-frou of silk skirts, and other things perhaps not entirely in keeping with Mrs. Thaxter’s picture of an altogether ideal life, combining the enjoyment of flowers, nature, music, conversation, and unconventionality.

Mr. Childe Hassam would seem to be an artist eminently fitted for the task, from his sympathy with elegant worldliness and his love of flowers, and there is no doubt that he enjoyed his part of the work almost as much as Mrs. Thaxter did hers. But he has given us pictures bound up with the text, not illustrations. The difference between the two, though very simple, is so often lost sight of that it becomes necessary to maintain that there is after all such a difference. A picture is a pictorial representation which has no connection with anything outside of it, which should appeal frankly, simply, directly, through the medium of our eyes to our æsthetic sense, to our memory of things enjoyed, to our imagination and what lies beyond our imagination. Pictures with written explanations weaken this appeal, and hence miss their mark; while pictures that replace it by a momentary titillation of curiosity as to whether the lady, for instance, is going to accept the lover or not, are, properly speaking, not pictures at all. An illustration, on the other hand, exists only in connection with the work it illustrates, while one has a right to assume that the book, if it is worth illustrating, is worth reading. Now, every book that has any literary value creates around itself, aided by our imagination, an imaginative atmosphere of its own, as we all know from our experience of the charm of living “under the spell ” of certain books. As the spell of this atmosphere largely depends upon the coöperation of our imagination with that of the writer, suggestive illustrations that stimulate the bright, vague picture-weaving activity of our brain are more welcome to us than definite realizations that check it. The illustrator should not obtrude his vision on ours. Why is it that vignettes and headpieces have so much more charm than fullpage illustrations, in the book under consideration and elsewhere ? Just because they have this vague, suggestive, eminently stimulating quality that leaves our imagination free to roam. To take the Island Garden, the series of portraits of Mrs. Thaxter’s house and garden are no doubt welcome to her friends. To an outsider, the only portraits that have any interest as portraits are those of her parlor. The subtle charm of the island garden would have been much more impressively rendered by more text engravings of such things as blue tapers of larkspurs and splendid pyramids of hollyhocks, or glimpses of water visible beyond a rich tangle of flowers, and one or two of the simpler and broader fullpage pictures, such as that pretty one of poppies, rocks, and sea, where the simplicity of effect has moreover allowed a comparatively successful reproductive rendering. As a rule, these pictures — all, or nearly all, reproductions of watercolors that have been seen at recent exhibitions— are too impressionist (that is, spotty) in treatment, too much calculated on distance in a gallery, to bear reduction well. Spottiness depends for effect on the purity and vigor of each spot of color, and is lost in this glossy medium, which, on the other hand, gives a certain tone which might be very happily used in combination with the clean, delicate, and vivid tints which the process now has at command. Of this there are several instances in the book, notably among the charming headpieces of loose flowers scattered over or among the text; nearly all these are so attractive that they only make us regret that the artist has not had the opportunity offered him to bend his talent to the real requirements of illustration.

The next book on our list² is entirely different in scope and aim. It is Sir Thomas Malory’s Morte Darthur, illustrated by Mr. A. Beardsley in black and white, in a free transcription of late fifteenth, early sixteenth century work. There is much in this book which seems to give us the very essence of illustration, which should be an accompaniment to the text, not a rival, running along by its side, and striking certain suggestive notes that help to attune the imagination of the reader to that of the author. Mr. Beardsley’s work consists of headpieces, initial letters, and full-page pictures inclosed in borders or scrolls that help to preserve the decorative unity. These scrolls and borders are superb, full of freshness and originality in treatment, with a decorative feeling that might almost be called intense, if intensity, in connection with English work, did not carry with it a suspicion of impressive awkwardness which may have a deep effect on the imagination, but which is not pleasing to the senses. Mr. Beardsley — here and in all that is said we are speaking of his work solely in the Morte Darthur — is nothing if not full of grace, sweetness, and charm. When he tries to be grand and passionate, as in some of the larger pictures, he is apt to fail utterly ; he is not himself; he clothes spurious passion in the conventional garb of the modern English preraphaelite tradition, which does not suit him. Nor is he, as a rule, happy in the small figures, generally nude, which he introduces into his initial picture. They have neither style, which perhaps may be defined as expression of character, nor truth, nor charm. Yet he is a personality and an artist full of surprises ; one or two of these smaller figures, notably a walking lady against a black ground with white flowers, are full of distinction, while the large picture of the loving-cup is, in spite of its exaggerations of treatment, full of weird, subtle poetry. Mr. Beardsley is, in his way, a master, with limitations, in the use of black and white. The limitations we should take to be those of his personality, which is idyllic, and poetic, not grand or fierce. So his attempts at obtaining strong effects by contrasting large, flat surfaces of black and white do not impress us as successful. In many other respects he has a rare mastery in the use of his instrument; this is, indeed, harmony of black and white, in combinations so subtle that they almost seem to have the power of music. We would call especial attention to the title-page, with all its delicate line work and happy gradations, to the bright, clear floral designs of the initials, and to some of the exquisite landscape backgrounds.

Another work in black and white,³ of high merit, is the American Prayer Book, illustrated by Mr. Bertram Goodhue under the supervision of Mr. Berkeley Updike, to whom the praise is due for the reverent, thoughtful, and artistic conception of the decoration as a whole. The scheme chosen has been that of “ decorative borders in black and white of trees, flowers, and plants, chosen generally with reference to their symbolism.” This symbolism is based on an application of the canticle, “ Benedicite, omnia opera Domini ; ” the conception has at once a unity and a thoughtful variety which command our attention and study, and the symbolism, simple and poetic throughout, has the rare merit of unobtrusiveness. To those who look for it, these flower borders are full of symbolic significance ; to those who do not, they are merely a quiet ornamental offset to the pages. The artistic treatment is on the whole satisfactory, in some instances highly so. In a work of this kind, it was not to be expected that all the symbols chosen should have the same decorative qualities. Hence some of the narrow borders have less interest than the others. In the wide borders with black backgrounds the artist has been more happily inspired throughout, and it has been our good fortune to see some of his borders for a new Altar Book, which seem really remarkable for quiet piety, reverent love of flower nature, and grasp of the capabilities of black and white.

The Century Gallery ⁴ is too noteworthy and typical to be left without notice, though it is a very different kind of publication from the work reviewed above. It is a “ gallery,” a portfolio of specimens of the art represented by The Century, and therefore rightly containing more reproductions of masterpieces or popular pictures than illustrations. The illustrations as such, not the fine art of wood engraving, are, however, our main theme in this notice, so that we can only render tribute in passing to the marvelous art of Mr. Cole, and to the high level of craftsmanship throughout; regretting, nevertheless, the tendency to over-refinement which seems gaining ground. The illustrations fall into three groups, the uninteresting ones, the ambitious ones, and the fine ones. By the fine ones we mean those that at once convince us that they are conceived in the right spirit, presenting simple types or landscape scenes that help to give life to the story without fettering the imagination, or situations that are taken in at a glance. What the artists call movement is what tells in illustration, not difficult facial expression, such as that essayed, for example, in The Opera Box. As instances of these “ convincing ” illustrations, we would mention Mr. Day’s Indeed, full of pertness and sparkle, Mrs. Mary Hallock Foote’s Looking for Camp, Mr. Remington’s spirited Western scenes in their spirited rendering by Mr. Joe Evans.

We have left ourselves but little space to notice what is in some respects a very important publication,⁵ but the truth is that to do it justice one would have to write a whole essay on French illustrators. There are so many principles involved, so many things to say, both for and against. Besides, the work is a bastard publication of the album type, and therefore difficult to cope with ; yet there is much to learn, from our point of view, even at a cursory glance. For one thing, there is much to be avoided in French contemporary illustration, notably a certain posing sentimentality, which, to the despair of lovers of Paris, is supposed to be eminently Parisian, but which has little in common with the true French spirit, which is nothing if not penetrative and full of fire and movement. Of this true spirit there is abundant evidence in the pages before us, especially in the titlepage in colors by Chéret, who is truly remarkable for the freshness and spontaneity which he always brings to his task, — if it is a task ; it always seems to have been the most intense of pleasures. This teaches us, too, how to treat colors in illustration, broadly, effectively, but above all with feeling. All the title-pages are indeed more or less good specimens of welltreated color and living decorative feeling. The omnipresence of this decorative sense is one of the great merits of the book. The pictures cannot rightly be criticised, except in connection with the works they illustrate, without embarking on long and tedious explanations. The decorative character of the work appeals to us at once by the way in which right principles are understood and carried out. The book is a patchwork, but the relation of black to white, of type to illustration, of sober square pictures to light gray marginal butterflies of sportive imagination, is at least made the basis of what may be called a decorative scheme, full of the precious qualities of balance, taste, ingenuity, and fancy.