Remarks on examples given in The Studio, special winter number, 1898-9.

MODERN bookplates are not easy to discuss satisfactorily. The following are some of the plates which were named or illustrated in The Studio special winter number, 1898-9, which went out of print at once. Mr. Gleeson White, who was by no means blind to the failings of up-to-date ex libris, wrote this, and gave with it the large number of one hundred and forty-nine illustrations.

On page 3 is given the ex libris, “T. Edmund Harvey,” a gruesome jumble of sticks and bones. This plate is by Cyril Goldie. In any comments now written no injurious reflections are intended; as, for one thing, it is impracticable, and probably undesirable, to know whether, and in what proportions, owner, artist, or manufacturer, are responsible. Besides these three, there is a fourth and oft-predominating partner to be considered, namely, fashion. Probably the only value of the impressions here written is that they are formed by one who is an entirely independent critic and a true lover of beautiful ex libris. The phrases of professionals will not therefore be expected.

On page 4 is given the ex libris “Eduard John Margetson,” by W. H. Margetson. This plate seems simple and pleasing enough. On the other hand, it is not exhilarating to find in this evidently very fair sample volume no less than twenty-seven bookplates, each depicting a female and a book.

On page 5 the ex libris “Richard Trappes Lomax,” by Paul Woodroffe, is very refreshing to look upon. It has all the familiar points of a bookplate, in that it is armorial, with mantling, and flowery foliage. At the same time the plate is not common, crowded, or eccentric. Now, on the other hand, turn to page 7, where is a plate “From among the books of Fred. W. Brown.” In this there is doubtless some good work, but in looking at the plate the eye and brain at once feel tired and bewildered; you seem to long to turn from a crowded hotch-potch, if only, it might be, to stare for a while at a blank barn door.

On page 9 are three plates by W. R. Weyer. These are distinctly good to look at; there seems a wholesome taste about them; there is plenty of decoration, without any attempt to crowd a volume of emblems and a market-gardener’s flower-show into two inches by one and a half. In each the owner’s name is clearly given, and, of course, no bookplate ought to want this. In addition, two are dated—that of Richard Chapman, 1892, and Reginald Balfour’s, 1898.

On page 12 is a distinctly satisfactory modern plate. It is a portrait-plate, and is by J. W. Simpson, for himself. He has depicted himself enjoying a long clay pipe. Beneath is the simple record in the plainest of letters: “J. W. Simpson His Book.”

On page 14 are the presumably portrait-plates of “Mary A. Bridger” and “Julia Eustace,” both by M. E. Thompson. These may be pretty, but seem, as in so many modern bookplates, to lack simplicity.

On the next page is a portrait-plate, “Edith E. Waterlow,” by J. Walter West. This, although the portrait is only a face in an oval, and outside the constant florist’s paraphernalia, still the plate has some saving simplicity.

On page 16 is what seems a sensible bookplate. It is by E. H. New, for Edward Morton, and seems to give simply a view of Edward Morton’s home, a modern house built in old style, and named Kingsclere.

On page 48 is shown a plate to which we would gladly give the palm for ugliness. We suppose it is meant for a bookplate, as it is given in this volume, and the words ex libris are distinguishable through the gloom.

On page 49 is a plate, Aubrey Beardsley, inscribed ex libris “Olive Custance.” It is not much to be admired.

On pages 50 and 51, where we are among the French ex libris, may be seen at one glance some half-dozen plates, which all happen to illustrate what is a marked eyesore in many bookplates, but has not been seriously noticed. A bookplate is naturally designed for use in a book. Now, with books should always be associated the idea of something to be valued and taken care of. How does this agree with the plates here shown? I think that symbolism should avoid this disturbing element.

There is water to drown the precious volumes, and there are beasts to devour them. In one a poor disconsolate-looking tome is shown trying to float on the dark cold waters of the deep, and as if that were not a sufficiently uncomfortable position for a book, a bird seems to be flying down, with open beak, to have a peck at it. In another cheerful composition, an angry tiger is in charge of the library of precious volumes, and has the talons of one paw on a beautiful binding, while it sticks the talons of its other paw into the leaves of an open volume.

In a third plate, a wolf is in a library, and, of course, behaving there as a wolf would. In yet another plate, a wolf is playing with a fine folio, and forming altogether as incongruous a picture as a bull in a china shop.

On page 54 is reproduced a plate, by LÉon LebÈgue. This may be, in disguise, a lovely creation of modern art; but the ordinary observer would take it to be a muddled map of everything or nothing, and would not paste it inside the cover of any book he or she hoped ever to open again.

As another painful instance of bookplates exhibiting books in the very last position anyone would care to see them in, on page 56, is shown a book being drowned in a pond. This is by Bracquemond.

From page 58 to page 60 some American ex libris are pourtrayed. Among these generally there is, as should be where books are thought of, a feeling of rest and refinement.

Between pages 61 and 68 are given a number of plates of modern German ex libris, thanks, as we are reminded, to the inspiriting influence of Warnecke, Leiningen-Westerburg, Doepler, and Hildebrandt. Germany, and to some extent Austria, too, have produced some very original and interesting bookplates within the last few years.

Illustrated on pages 61 and 65 are two plates which should surely come under the category of the error of associating books with incongruous surroundings. In the one, by Doepler for the Bibliothek des Koeniglichen Kunstgewerbe Museums, Berlin, the centre represents an open book—that would be well enough; but the leading feature of the plate is a great, rough, brawny hand holding a big hammer and pressing on the open volume.

In the plate on page 65, by Sattler, the design pictures a human skeleton bearing a pile of books.

Between pages 64 and 65 is a leaf bearing three pleasing plates, by Paul Voigt. One of the three is apparently for his own books. It depicts a room with, of course, some very old books, and the most prominent is in a position which would break the back of a modern book; but not much fault need be found. In those good times books were not bound in a day or for a day. The hides were well chosen, well seasoned, and good workmanship was put into the binding.

Facing Paul Voigt’s own plate is a good plate by him for W. L. Busse. This has a fine smell of the sea about it. Tossing in the frothy deep is an ancient ship, which but for masts and sails might be a nautilus shell. Below is a rugged anchor, and around all a stout cable serves to frame a pleasing picture.

On page 68 is a cleverly designed plate by Joseph Sattler. There is an altogether pleasing absence of misty, mystic, mythological allusions and complications. On the other hand, an hour-glass indicates the sands of time, and the simple word “Jetzt” (now) points a simple moral, irresistibly apt for the book-lover. There is no pursuit of which it can be more truly said—that he (the book-collector) who hesitates is lost.