Wood engraving—Line engraving—Etching—Stipple—Mezzotint—Aquatint—Lithography—Photography.

Writing in early manuscripts was continuous, no stops, no spaces, no initials. The inconvenience of such an arrangement soon became apparent; the effect of it can be well seen in the case of the Codex Alexandrinus, written in the fifth century, although this has large initials, and the difficulty of knowing when a word ends is bad enough, to say nothing of sentences. The manuscript is at the British Museum.

Presently the first letters of sentences, or perhaps of important words, were enlarged or rubricated—marked in red—and from that starting point came the gradual development of beautiful ornamental letters with sprays starting from them. These sprays ultimately became rich borderings and spread all over the page, and at last we get to the illuminated manuscripts of mediÆval times filled with exquisite miniatures, borders, and arabesques of all imaginable kinds.

The subject of illuminated manuscripts has been fully dealt with by several competent authorities, and it is not necessary here to enter into it, but so far as printed books are concerned it will be of interest to survey shortly the chief styles of illustrations with which they have been provided.

When printed books first began there were no illustrations in them, but initial letters were often added in red, by hand, and other important printed letters were marked by a dab of red or yellow across them. The outline wood cuts which shortly made their appearance were frequently intended to serve as guides for hand colouring, and many of them are so treated.

Wood cutting in the case of block books was well understood in the fifteenth century, but when similar illustrations appear, in company with the text, in early printed books, the art level both of the designer and wood cutter is singularly low. This criticism only applies to the pictorial illustrations, as in the matter of scroll work or ornamental initials the work is excellent.

The great letter “B” in Fust and SchÖffer’s Mainz Psalter, issued in 1457, is as fine as anything of its kind that has ever been done. It is printed from two wood blocks which fit into each other, and which were inked alternately either red or blue, and then printed together with the text. A slow process but thoroughly effective. The initial letters throughout this book seem to have been touched up in places by hand, especially in the long scrolls which meander up and down the margins of the pages.

The earliest known book illustration cut on wood is a beautiful outline sketch of the Goddess of Mercy. It is full page and illustrates a chapter from a Chinese version of the Saddharmapundarika Sutra, and was printed in 1331, nearly a hundred years before the earliest European print from a wood block, the St. Christopher, of 1423, which moreover was not a book illustration.

Chinese, Japanese, and Korean wood cuts are always in outline, thickened here and there, but quite different in character and far better in drawing and execution than early European work of the same sort. Most of the blocks from which these prints are made are of soft wood, not box, and are cut with a short knife of peculiar form set in a handle.

The drawings are made on thin paper and stuck downwards on the blocks; then the knife is carefully run along the edges of the various lines, cutting outwards, the interlinear spaces being cut away with a gouge and hammer. The wood cutting was often done by women. The method of work is probably the same as was used in Europe in the case of early blocks.

Besides the design block, always printed in dark neutral tint or black, during the eighteenth and succeeding centuries, the Chinese and Japanese cut accessory blocks which were inked in various colours. The registering of the various colour blocks was managed either by pegs or notches, and the colours were mixed with water or rice paste. Most of the European colour processes of printing require oil colours, but water colours on the Japanese principle have been used with admirable effect in some of the illustrations to Henry Shaw’s books on MediÆval Dresses and Decorative Arts, and notably by Edmund Evans and his successors in more recent times.

From the earliest illustration, mentioned above, until the present day, the style of Chinese and Japanese wood illustrations has not altered. There have been several engravers of great skill in both countries, but I think the Japanese colour prints are best known to us.

The blocks are frequently signed with the names of the designers, particularly in later times, and many names are already well known to collectors.

In the seventeenth century Korin was one of the best of the Japanese illustrators; in the eighteenth century there is admirable work signed by Hokusai and Hiroshige, and among the many skilled designers of the nineteenth century the work of Kitigawa Utamaro is perhaps the best known.

The first Italian book in which wood engravings were used is, as far as is now known, the “Meditations” of Turrecremata, printed at Rome in 1467, by Ulrich Hahn. The illustrations are of a simple character in outline. Then came instances in books printed at Naples, Rome, Verona, and especially at Venice, where Erhard Ratdolt produced several with beautiful initials, borders, and pictures. Numbers of the books published at Venice in the later part of the fifteenth century are illustrated with exquisite wood cuts; among them the most celebrated and the most beautiful is the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, printed in 1499.

This celebrated book was written by Francesco Colonna, whose name is curiously shown by the initials of the chapters, which read “Poliam Frater Franciscus Columna peramavit,” “Brother Franciscus Columna loved Polia very much.” Polia has been presumably identified with Lucretia Lelio, who was a native of Treviso, the place of Polifilo’s dream. The many engravings are in outline, and several of them are full page.

Italians have always excelled in wood cutting, but although there have been numbers of illustrated books issued in the sixteenth and later centuries, those of the fifteenth century still remain pre-eminent. Dr. Paul Kristeller has, moreover, shown that the Italian printers devices are well worthy of attention, and many of them are very fine both in design and execution.

Block books, Japanese wood blocks, and all very early wood cuts, were cut by a knife, and such outline work, not too small, is easier to execute with a properly shaped knife than with anything else. But as soon as wood cutters began to be more skilled, and compared their work with line engraving, they found that a knife was not so useful as an engraver’s burin, and so wood engraving, as distinct from cutting, came into being. The cuts in the Nuremberg Chronicle of 1493 show some sort of a transitional stage; there are hatchings and shadowings which would have been much more easily done with a graver than with a knife, but I believe, nevertheless, they are all knife work.

Roughly speaking, it is easier to cut a broad outline drawing with a knife than with a graver, and it is easier to cut a small detail drawing with a graver than with a knife. At the same time we must remember that a skilled engraver could execute either sort of engraving in the wrong way, just as William Harvey cut his well known wood blocks of the Death of Dentatus in such a way as to show every technical peculiarity, except one, of an engraving on metal.

Both wood blocks and metal blocks intended to illustrate printed books were always made of the same depth as the type, so that they could all be printed together, and that is done to-day in the case of process or half-tone blocks, which are actually wooden blocks faced with the soft metal bearing the design. There is always some interest in the question as to whether a certain print has been cut on a wood block or on a metal block, and if the print is in perfect condition it is a very difficult matter to decide. But it is rarely that some small defect or peculiarity does not appear by help of which a tolerably certain judgment can be arrived at. Early engraved blocks were often used again and again until they became quite old, and at last they were got at by insects who ate small holes in them. If therefore a print shows little white circular marks upon it there is no doubt that it was made from a wood block. Instances are by no means unknown in which experts have decided that a certain block had been cut on metal, and a later impression has turned up with worm holes in it! The grain of wood will sometimes show on an old print, or a broken edge will show a sharp fracture indicating wood, in contradistinction to a rounded one, indicating metal.

The blacks on prints from an engraved metal plate always show very even spaces, and there are usually plenty of them, often broken, however, by small white dots, the presence of which denotes the style known as Pointille, the finest examples of which can be found among the French HorÆ printed for Pigouchet in the fifteenth century. The metal used was probably a sort of pewter, lead and tin, very easy to engrave upon, and strong enough to bear many printings. But in many instances these little blocks seem to have been roughly treated and have fallen about, and the result is that outer lines which show perfectly straight in early copies, show as slightly rounded lines on late ones. This is taken as a decided proof that the original block was made of soft metal, although I am by no means certain that it is impossible for a straight edge on wood to warp into a curved line.

Prints from old wood cuts in outlines were frequently added to early printed books and painted over thickly with opaque colour so as to produce a different design. The original outline has only been used as a slight guide. Instances of these curious changes can be found in numbers of the fine vellum books illustrated in colour which were printed for Antoine VÉrard at Paris in the fifteenth century.

In other cases, particularly in Italy and France, ornamental printed borders and illustrations have been very carefully painted by hand just as if they belonged to ordinary illuminated manuscripts. But the art work in all these cases is not good. The true illuminatores were obsolescent. A few instances of attempts at colour printing either by means of blocks or stencil plates were made by Erhard Ratdolt at Venice, and a few others.

There are two distinct schools of wood engraving, and they are easily recognised from each other whenever either of them is exclusively new, but the large majority of the more recent book illustrations cut on wood show traces of both styles.

These styles are firstly that of the black line, the type of which may be found in Caxton’s Myrrour of the Worlde printed in 1481, and secondly that of the white line, the best type of which may be found in the History of British Birds, illustrated with engravings by Thomas Bewick in 1797.

In judging whether an illustration in a book is printed from a block cut and printed in the manner of a wood block, the first thing to observe is whether the black lines are pressed into the paper or not. The amount of the depression of the black lines may be very slight, but it must always be looked for because although the necessary pressure for printing from type and block is slight, still there is always some of it, and before the introduction of the modern clay-laden papers, the paper used for printing upon was always softened by damp, and consequently very susceptible to pressure. If the depression of the black lines can be recognised, the print is made from a block of some sort, and printed with a slight pressure.

William Blake’s curious illustrated poems are exceptions to any rule. He was very poor and unable to afford to have his writings properly published, so he wrote and drew them out himself on copper, and then etched away the ground very strongly so as to leave his lines in relief. The plates were then printed as relief blocks. As curiosities they are of great interest, and they preserve the individual touch of the artist to just about the same extent as an etching does. The process is exactly analogous to the manner in which names or designs are etched on sword blades, key rings, knife blades and the like, only Blake allowed the acid to work a little more strongly so as to get a slightly higher relief.

The first English printed book that is illustrated is Caxton’s Myrrour of the Worlde, printed in 1481; the cuts are quite elementary in character, like all the wood cuts in English books for a long time. Ornamental borders are found in Caxton’s Fifteen Oes., printed about 1490.

Early English books were not freely illustrated, and it must be supposed that wood cutters were scarce. Many of the cuts used are of foreign origin. One early book is charmingly illustrated in colour; Dame Juliana Bernes’ so-called Book of St. Albans, printed in 1486, has a long series of coats-of-arms printed from wood blocks. The colour has been added either from other blocks separately inked or else by means of stencil plates.

In the sixteenth century wood illustrations became more numerous, but many of them were still of foreign workmanship.

Borders and designs by Holbein were used by Pynson, and these had a renaissance feeling which was quite foreign to the existing style. The mixed style which consequently made its appearance is very curious. It shows well in the semi-classical device of Lucretia used by Thomas Berthelet, royal printer to Henry VIII. Towards the end of the century there were several large volumes of chronicles published in England, Halle, Grafton and Holinshed, and these and similar volumes are all well illustrated with wood cuts. Foxe’s “Book of Martyrs,” published in 1563 by John Day, is also an example of a well illustrated and popular book, the cuts in which were all probably made here.

Wood engravings in England gave way gradually in the seventeenth and the earlier half of the eighteenth centuries before the advancing tide of line engraving, but in the latter half of the eighteenth century Thomas Bewick came to give it a new impetus. Bewick’s style was quite original, and although his particular “white line” style, good as it was, does not ever seem to have retained any hold upon the mass of engravers, yet somehow or other we find that the revival of wood cutting, both here and abroad, is generally put down to his influence.

Bewick worked on an entirely different principle to that of any of his predecessors. He gave up imitating the black line of the metal engraver and used the white line to gain his effects. No doubt this is the true theory of wood engraving. Bewick took several apprentices, many of whom afterwards became famous, but, curiously enough, none of them kept long to their master’s style. In modern days Timothy Cole has revived the use of the white line; his work is most excellent and learned in every way. I have never found a wrong line in it, and if Bewick had not shown the way, and therefore put Mr. Cole in the position of a follower, the latter would have ranked as the greatest master who has ever worked on wood on the white line principle.

William Harvey was one of Bewick’s apprentices; he did an immense quantity of work, which is always excellent. He soon gave up Bewick’s “white line,” and most of his wood engravings are like line engravings on copper. The engraving of the Death of Dentatus, after B. R. Haydon, is Harvey’s most celebrated piece of work. It shows every appearance and characteristic of a line engraving, but the black marks are in intaglio. It is a tour de force, and cannot but be considered as a waste of energy. It was engraved upon several blocks clamped together by an iron band, and prints of it can now and then be picked up at printsellers for two or three shillings, as it is seldom recognised as a wood engraving.

Luke Clennell also worked with and helped Bewick, and much of his early work is like that of his master. But, like Harvey, Clennell soon evolved a style of his own. He cut some of the beautiful little cuts, after Stothard, in Rogers’ “Pleasures of Memory.” No doubt the Bewick training had much influence for good over Clennell’s manner.

Charlton Nesbit followed Bewick closely for a time, and then, like his fellow apprentices, he worked out his own style. His work is very good and true, and he was particularly successful in his illustrations to Northcote’s Fables and Rinaldo and Armida.

John Thompson was quite one of our greatest wood engravers. He worked well into the nineteenth century, and did an immense quantity of work. He engraved a celebrated set of illustrations to the Vicar of Wakefield, after Mulready, and was also very successful with those to Tasso’s La Gerusalemme Liberata in 1826. His work is quite different from that of Bewick.

The nineteenth century in England was rich in numbers of excellent wood engravers, and a list of their names alone would be a long one. A proof of the high estimation in which the work of many of these artists was held is to be found in the fact that their services as engravers were freely sought by continental publishers of finely illustrated books.

J. B. Jackson, who introduced tone colour-printing, actually worked with J. M. Papillon in France in the eighteenth century. Then there were the Landells, Gray, Whimper, Wright, Folkard, and Green, and, quite late in the century, J. W. Whymper, Horace Harral, James Cooper, W. J. Linton, the Dalziels, and Swain. These two last have signed an immense quantity of excellent work, but they were large firms, and the greater part of their work was done by their workmen. Many of the artists of this time did most excellent work as designers for wood engravings, especially Sir John Millais, D. G. Rossetti, Fred. Walker, Fred. Sandys, Lord Leighton, Birket Foster, Sir E. Burne-Jones, G. du Maurier, and Cecil Lawson.

J. M. Papillon, who worked during the earlier half of the eighteenth century, belonged to a French family of wood engravers, and wrote a treatise about wood-cutting with the knife, which is of great interest. His work is small and excellent. Papillon makes mention of a foreigner who worked with him and used the end of the wood to work upon, and that he used a graver. This foreigner is supposed to have been the English artist J. B. Jackson, who was eminent here not only as an engraver, but also as the pioneer in the matter of colour-printing from wood blocks.

No doubt up to about the beginning of the eighteenth century wood cuts had been made on planed pieces of pear or other soft wood cut lengthways. The grain upon such a piece of wood necessitating the use of a knife to cut it, the knife may be a single blade or a double blade of the kind known as a “scrive,” but it cannot be cut with a solid graver.

It is possible enough that to Jackson we owe the idea of making engravings on the cross-cut of a piece of wood, and if so he is entitled to great honour, as all wood work since his time has been done in that way. The graver had long been used on metal, but until the device of cutting blocks across the grain of a hard wood was thought of it could not be used on wood. Hard wood was now wanted with as little grain as possible, and box is the ideal.

In the nineteenth century much excellent wood engraving was done in France. Indeed, after a period of practical non-existence the art once more became one of great importance, and a school of wood engraving grew up that was not only very large, but the work done was of very high quality.

Bewick’s style is not there, although it seems likely that the revival was really due to his influence; the old black line, resembling the engraved metal line, holds undisputed sway. Moreover, the French nineteenth century revival owes much directly to the work and influence of another great English wood engraver, J. Thompson, and with him worked an equally great French engraver, H. L. BreviÈre. These two men were highly gifted, and their work is always of a high order, and they met with much powerful support from contemporary engravers, followers of their own, the excellence of whose work in many instances ran their own very close.

Among the many engravers of this time whose work is always pleasant to meet with and admire we may particularly note ThiÉbault, S. Soyer, Sears, Porret, Roux, La Coste and both his sons, Rouget, and Nivet.

The work of many of our contemporary English engravers was also much liked in France, and they often helped to illustrate fine French books. Among the more notable of these engravers we find the names of Orrin Smith, Thomas, Samuel, and Mary Ann Williams, and A. Best.

It must be noted that the work of the artists whose work was interpreted by this school of highly-skilled engravers was admirably fitted for small book vignettes, especially the military designs so profusely issued by Meissonier, Horace Vernet, and Raffet, and, for larger work, the charming figures of Gavarni.

Augsburg in the fifteenth century was a great centre of wood engraving. A Bible with small woodcuts was issued there about 1470 by Jodoc Pflanzmann. These cuts were meant to be coloured by hand. Several other books illustrated with woodcuts were issued by Gunther Zainer and Johan Bamler.

Then notable illustrated books were published at Ulm and Lubeck, and from Nuremberg we have the great “Nuremberg Chronicle,” full of woodcuts, the best of which are cut by Wilhelm Pleydenwurff and Michael Wohlgemuth. The work in this book gets away from the mere outline, and we find much clever hatching and shading, but there is much coarseness. From Basle came Seb. Brant’s celebrated “Narrenschiff,” one of the most popular books ever written, and illustrated with most amusing cuts of the various follies of the various sorts of fools described. Albrecht DÜrer did a few illustrations for books towards the end of the fifteenth and beginning of the sixteenth centuries.

Several more illustrated wood books were issued from Nuremberg, Basle and Zurich, and some of the printers’ devices were designed by Holbein.

During the seventeenth century a lull occurred in the production of German books illustrated with woodcuts; but the art has always been popular in Germany, and it never quite died out.

The very decorative “Triumph of the Emperor Maximilian,” with large woodcuts, designed by Hans Burgkmeier of Augsburg in the early sixteenth century, was published in 1796. German wood engraving for books revived in the nineteenth century, and became of high excellence. German wood engravings have had a certain strength and vigour all their own from the time of the “Nuremberg Chronicle” until modern times.

Artists, moreover, have not been wanting; the quite delightful vignettes of A. SchrÖdter, L. Richter, G. Osterwald, R. Jordan and others, have received adequate and sympathetic treatment at the hands of engravers who are second to none. Nuzelmann, E. Kretschmar, A. Vogel, Beneworth, Joch, and the Leipzig firms of Allanson and Sears, Nicholls and Bosse, and Peupin, some of whom were foreigners.

Line engraving on a small scale plays an important part in book illustration. It is the simplest, and yet requires the most technical skill of all the methods of marking metal surfaces for the purpose of making prints. The engraver cuts out a thread of metal, producing a little track on the surface, and to do this properly requires the utmost skill.

It has been held for a long time that prints from engraved metal plates owe their existence to the proofs in sulphur which were taken from time to time from engravings intended to be filled with niello.

In the museum at Berlin there is a print on paper from an engraved metal plate, representing the Flagellation of Christ. It is German work and dated 1446. The lettering shows rightly on the print, so the engraving was made with the intent that prints should be made from it.

There is in the Bargello Museum at Florence a beautiful Pax with a nielloed plate attributed to Maso Finiguerra, the date of which is put at 1452. From this plate, before it was nielloed, prints on paper were taken, and one of them is at Paris. But the letterings on this engraving read rightly on the metal, so it was not engraved with the intent that prints should be made from it; indeed, they, as well as the impressions in sulphur, were only made to help in the working.

So that it is only safe to say that the possibility of making prints on paper from engraved metal plates was known about the middle of the fifteenth century both in Germany and in Italy.

To make a print from an engraved plate requires great pressure, as the paper has to be forced down into every mark, and the resulting mark on the paper is consequently always in relief.

The principle of a print made from an engraved wood block is that the projecting parts are covered with a thin film of ink, and when the paper is lightly pressed down upon these lines it picks up the ink from the surface wherever it touches it. In the case of an engraved metal plate, the lines on which are cut in the same way and with a similar graver to that used for white line engraving on wood, the inking and printing is quite different. Now it is the incised lines which print black, and in order to ensure this the whole plate is well rubbed over with ink so as to fill up all the incised lines, and then the unengraved polished surface is carefully wiped clean so as to leave the ink sticking in all the dots, lines and curves. Now damped paper is very strongly pressed upon the inked plate, so as to be squeezed right down into every dot, line and curve. The paper consequently is in relief wherever it has been pressed into a depression, and as there was ink there waiting for it, it will be found to have picked up and absorbed all the ink, so that the print shows black lines in low relief.

It will be easily realised that a print from an engraved metal plate cannot be printed with ordinary type at the same operation a wood-block can, so that whenever a book occurs in which such engravings show on the same page with type, there must have been two printings, one strong for the engraving and one light for the type.

We find, therefore, that in several instances where engraved illustrations have been used for a book which is for the most part printed from type, that the small piece of text which comes on the same page as the engraving, is also engraved. Not only this, but from time to time entire books have been engraved, illustrations as well as text. The finest English example of such work is to be found in the beautiful edition of the works of Horace, plentifully illustrated and engraved throughout on copper by John Pine. It was published in 1733-7.

John Sturt, who engraved numbers of book frontispieces, also produced a Book of Common Prayer, engraved throughout on silver, in 1717. He also engraved many of John Ayres’ calligraphic works. Abroad, especially in France and Germany, small books have been engraved, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, by P. Moreau, F. Mazot, Druet, and others, but none of them are as important as the English. Music books are engraved, and so are numbers of calligraphic books of small interest.

The first line engravings illustrating any book appear in Bettini’s “Monte Santo di Deo,” printed in 1477. They are said to be after designs by Botticelli. Some of the prints are full page and others are printed on the same paper as the text. They are not very good. The same kind of illustration appears in Dante’s “Divina Commedia,” printed in 1481. Some of these prints are, however, pasted in, but a few are on the same paper as the text.

The great excellence of Italian book illustrators on wood seems to have eclipsed all other kinds. Italian line engravers have excelled in large plates, but in books there is little of this kind of work that is at all good. Examples of small work of the kind were done in the eighteenth century by Grandi, Schedl, Pomarade, I. Frey, and C. Gregori.

In English books line engravings do not appear until 1521, when an edition of Galen published at Cambridge possesses an engraved border.

Raynald’s “Byrthe of Mankind,” published in 1540, has engraved plates. From this time engravings appear at intervals until towards the end of the sixteenth century, when frontispieces and portraits, always printed on separate paper and inserted as extra leaves, became common.

In the seventeenth century the same style prevailed, engraved portraits and frontispieces, but gradually small pictures came into use. The plates are often signed, and we find the name of Renold Elstrack, who worked also in the preceding century, Marshall, Hole, Cecil, Grover, and others of less merit.

In the eighteenth century native engravers seem to have given way to foreigners, and the same thing happened during the early nineteenth century. We find many beautiful engravings in English books signed by Du Bosc, Grignion, Scotin, De Launay, and others. Later, in the nineteenth century, our English line engravers rallied, and we owe much beautiful work to them. Many of their names are widely known, and their work will be more highly appreciated as time goes on, especially as this small line engraving is practically a lost art.

The Keepsake, published by Charles Heath, 1827-57, started the fashion in England of small books illustrated with delicate engravings on steel, but it must be noted that although there is engraved work in them, the greater part of the work is really etched. Exquisite work in this style was done by W. Finden, D. Allen, C. Rolls, T. C. Lewis, J. H. Robinson, E. Goodall, H. and R. Wallis, W. R. and D. Smith, W. Humphreys, John Pye, T. S. and F. C. Engleheart, F. and J. Goodyear, and these engravers were supplied with beautiful subjects by several of the eminent contemporary artists, J. M. W. Turner, Stothard, Samuel Prout, and numbers more.

Among the best examples of finely illustrated books of this period the two volumes of Rogers’ Italy and Poems may safely be noted. They were published in London in 1830, and the very best results were aimed at in their production. They are uniform, and usually bound in red watered silk.

Large numbers of small books illustrated profusely with line engravings were published about the middle of the nineteenth century. They often have engraved title-pages, with little pictures in them, the full page illustration being inserted throughout. The names of both artist and engraver are usually added at the lower edge of the print.

There are Oriental Annuals, Landscape Annuals, New Year’s Gifts, Friendship’s Offerings, Comic Offerings, Juvenile Forget-me-nots, and a host of similar periodicals, and good work is to be found in all of them. They were either bound in thin panel stamped leather or else in watered silk, and in either case the binding is of interest, and wherever it exists it should be carefully preserved. A quaint little woodcut often appears in these books, printed with the text.

Besides the engravers whose names I have already mentioned, there are many others whose work appears more particularly in small periodical publications; among these may be noted J. C. Armytage, Geo. Corbould, Charles and J. Heath, James Mitan, John Sharpe, R. J. Baker, W. Greatbach, J. C. Edwards, W. Fry, W. Chevalier, S. Davenport, H. Robins, C. Warren, T. J. Williams, J. Cousins, W. Miller, S. Sangster, R. Rhodes, F. Bacon, R. J. and E. Portbury, T. Willmore, R. Brandard, J. H. Kernot, W. D. Taylor, and G. Hollis.

After about 1850 small line engravings in books began to disappear, and now they are rarely if ever done. In fact, line engraving has been killed by mezzotint and photography, and now takes refuge in its original goldsmiths’ use, or in book plates.

Line engraving in France did not appeal to popular taste until a comparatively late period. The block engravings in the “Horae” of the fifteenth century, although they were line engravings, were cut in the manner of wood blocks, and the method of printing from them was different to that used in the case of ordinary metal engravings. In the seventeenth century there were several beautiful books illustrated by line engravings by Sebastian Leclerc, L. Gaultier, J. SaunÉ, F. Chauveau, Le Mire and H. J. Duclos.

In the eighteenth century in France the graceful designs of Ch. Eisen and J. H. Fragonard found many worthy interpreters. La Fontaine’s fables and stories provided a suitable literature for these illustrations, and among them may perhaps be found the high water mark of small line engraving. Indeed, the work is all so good that any choice becomes almost invidious; but quite beautiful work was done by J. B. Patas, Choffard, N. Le Mire, De Longueil, L. Bosse, Delvaux, Johannot, Leroux, Lefebre, Ficquet, Mottet, Prevost, J. B. Tillard, J. L. Delignon, C. L. LingÉe, DuprÉel; and then come L. Halbon, J. Aliamet, J. Dambrun, J. B. Simonnet, P. TriÈre, C. S. Gaucher, and many more, some of whom worked also in the next century.

In the nineteenth century the French level of small engraved illustrations remained exceptionally high, especially in the earlier half, but many of the plates have much etching mixed up with line work; this may very likely mean that the work was done on steel, which will admit of the production of large editions; but steel is very difficult to engrave, although it is quite easy to etch. Among the line engravers who used accessory etching I have noted Pauquet, Aze, P. Choffard, and De Villiers.

The engravers whose work may be safely considered of high quality are R. De Launay, Bertonnier, Villerey, P. Savart, H. Dupont, Girardet, J. P. Marillien, L. Petit, J. F. Ribault, Chifflart, and V. Foulquier. Towards the end of the century photography came and gradually crowded out the small line engravers.

An etching is a drawing done with a needle point upon a sheet of metal protected by a thin impervious coat of soft varnish. The lines made by the etching needle pierce the varnish or “ground,” and reach down to the metal, usually copper, exposing it in those places. When the drawing is complete the plate is put into a bath of strong water, usually dilute nitric acid, and wherever the surface is not protected by the ground the acid will eat away the metal.

When now the ground is cleaned off with the help of turpentine, the original design will be seen transferred to the surface of the copper in the form of dull lines, shallow if the acid has only been allowed to act for a short time, but broad, deep and irregular if the “biting” has been long. So that an etching always has a little more “effect” than was put into the original work.

It is not necessary here to enter into the mysteries of “stopping out,” and several other variations of procedure, but it is sufficient to say that variations of tone and texture can be obtained; but, in fact, so far as book illustrations go, the etchings I know of are always simple, and the best of them are those by George Cruickshank.

The printing of etchings is analogous to that of line engravings, and a similar ink is used. A strong press is required, the paper is damped, and the impression is in slight relief. Line engravings are always printed in the same way as a visiting card, the untouched parts are clean, and print white, but in the case of etchings more ink is usually left, so that the untouched surfaces often show grey, none of the ink having been allowed to remain upon the plate. The French call this “retroussage,” and printers can produce strange effects by its use. A bad etching can be made to look like a good one; a good etching can be made to look weak and wretched. In fact, a clever artist printer can produce a capital picture from a plate which has nothing at all on it but the ink.

Etchings first appeared in English books about the end of the seventeenth century, but they are seldom signed, neither are they good. There is an etched frontispiece to Latroo’s “English Roque,” 1665, and another to “Æsop’s Fables,” published in the same year.

Wenceslaus Hollar, a Bohemian who worked in London, illustrated a few English books with etchings in the seventeenth century. Soft ground etchings printed in red and black appear in Pennant’s “Account of London,” printed in 1795. In the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries William Blake made a few etchings for book illustrations. In the nineteenth century came Alken’s etchings of animals, usually coloured, Samuel Hewitt, Doyle, and especially the excellent work of George Cruickshank, which was very much admired by John Ruskin.

Combined with line engraving a number of small illustrations were published in the nineteenth century. They were etched on steel, and carefully finished with small line work, with ruled skies. They are generally classed as engravings, but should, I think, rather be called etchings.

Etching has not played a very important part in French books any more than it has in English. There are the amusing sketches of Callot, good work by Abraham Bosse and Sebastian Leclerc, and in quite recent times the beautiful etchings by Jules Jacquemart of works of art, in their way unsurpassed, and marvels of technical skill. I have already mentioned a few French etchers who combined that work with small line engraving, probably on steel; of these probably Choffard is best known and most highly appreciated.

Engraving by dots has been for a long time practised, as by its means a graduated tone can be more easily obtained than it can by the use of line alone, and stipple is the same idea carried out by the etching needle instead of the graver.

Stipple is done by means of small bunches of needles, with which irregular dots are made in the etching ground and then bitten by acid, as usual. In most cases a few small finishing dots are put on the copper by hand afterwards. Stipple is excellent for faces, and is best known in the work of Bartolozzi, who excelled in it. It is said to have been invented by Jacob Bylaert, a Dutchman, in 1760.

In England stipple engraving was largely used in the early nineteenth century for book illustrations. It is found chiefly in faces, and is generally supported by line engraving or etching. The best stipple engravers did not illustrate books, but the work of W. Finden, C. Knight, J. Parker, C. Marr, and W. Holl is always good, though, of course, very small. Besides these there were numbers of lesser stipple engravers, whose work is fair—Jenkinson, Dean, H. Cook, C. Wagstaffe, H. Robinson, and many more.

The same sort of usefulness was found for stipple abroad, for faces particularly, and it was successfully practised by Pfeiffer, Vangelisty, and others, but it never took the same hold upon the Continent that it did here, either in the case of small book illustrations or in the more important matter of large stipple engravings.

Mezzotints are not satisfactory if they are on a small scale. Delicate and minute work cannot be done well by the mezzotint process alone, but require supplementary line or etched work. So we find that mezzotints have not been much used for book illustration.

The process of mezzotinting was invented by Ludwig von Siegen, an officer in the Hessian Army, about 1642, and at first it was practised chiefly by foreigners, but it soon became the favourite method of engraving upon metal in England; indeed, the competition of the mezzotint eventually ruined the slower and more costly process of line engraving.

Some books concerning mezzotints have explanatory plates in them, beginning with Le Blon’s “Coloritto,” written about 1721, but these can hardly be considered as fair instances of ordinary book illustrations.

A copper plate is prepared for mezzotint engraving by being uniformly roughened all over, so that if it were inked and a print made from it, the print would show a uniform velvety black. The art of the “scraper” consists in so skilfully cutting away or burnishing down the roughened surface of the copper that when a print is made a picture appears. The scraper works from black to white whenever the surface is scraped or burnished away, so in exact correspondence the print will show grey or white. It is quick work, and easy work up to a point, but to make a first-rate mezzotint is a great art, and only a few engravers have succeeded in doing it.

Among the first students of the art was Prince Rupert, who was an excellent artist and an accomplished workman all round. He engraved a large plate after Spagnoletto, called “The Great Executioner,” and when John Evelyn wrote a little book called “Sculptura,” which was published in 1662, and included in it a short description of the new art, the Prince mezzotinted a plate for him, showing only the head of the great executioner. This head, the first mezzotint done for a book, is a finer piece of work than the head in the larger plate.

There were several anatomical plates, mostly printed in coloured inks, which were mezzotinted about the same time, but they are not important; then Faber’s portraits of founders of the Colleges of Oxford and Cambridge were used as illustrations to Rolt’s “Lives of the Reformers,” published in 1759. These plates bear Houston’s name as mezzotinter, but this is only one of a number of such re-letterings which occur in the history of mezzotints.

Robert Dunkarton engraved several book illustrations, mostly portraits, and he also helped in the mezzotinting of some of the plates in Turner’s “Liber Studiorum.” He was a portrait painter, and his mezzotints are better than Faber’s. John Young was an eminent mezzotinter, and in 1815 he issued a large book of portraits of the Emperors of Turkey printed in colours. They are not particularly good, but are interesting as being the first set of mezzotints to be issued in colour as book illustrations. The book is rare and, if the colour is strong, of considerable value.

Turner’s “Liber Studiorum” was issued between 1807 and 1819, and many mezzotinters helped in the work—F. C. Lewis, Charles Turner, W. Say, R. Dunkarton, G. Clint, J. C. Eastling, T. Hodgetts, W. Annis, H. Dawe, T. Lipton, and S. W. Reynolds. The plates were not pure mezzotint, but were strongly etched as well with some aquatinting; the first etching was done by J. M. W. Turner, and some of the mezzotinting. I think he probably worked finally upon all the plates in various ways with burin, scraper and roulette.

Several books of landscapes are illustrated with mezzotints, done on copper or steel, by T. G. Lupton, many of them after Turner, and John Constable’s landscapes have been admirably mezzotinted by David Lucas; perhaps the best known is “English Landscape Scenery,” published in 1855.

In all mezzotints, large or small, it should be noted that the condition of the print is important. The blacks should be deep and velvety; if they show greyish or spotted, the print is from an old plate. Mezzotints on steel last better than if they are on copper. I know of no foreign books illustrated with mezzotints.

There are several ways of making aquatints, but the best is the oldest. It was invented by a Frenchman, J. B. Le Prince, towards the end of the eighteenth century, and although of foreign origin, the art has been most extensively and successfully practised in England.

Le Prince allowed powdered resin to settle evenly on a copper plate, fixed the minute grains by heat, and then treated the plate with acid as if it were an etching. When the plate was cleaned the acid is found to have bitten a little line round each grain of resin, so that an aquatint made by this method consists of a series of small rings more or less thick. The different thicknesses are produced by stopping out some portions and re-biting others. The general effect of aquatint is delicate and pleasing, and it can be strengthened where necessary with a little etching. Aquatint helps its followers considerably, and a good aquatint made from a drawing or painting will often have luminous effects that are wanting in the original.

There is one other method of aquatinting that must be mentioned, but there are more which are too numerous and too unimportant to require explanation here. It is a modern invention, and consists of coating the plate with resin dissolved in alcohol; when this dries it breaks up into little pieces, and the acid can penetrate between these pieces as in Le Prince’s method. But the resulting prints do not show Le Prince’s little circles, but small irregular polygons.

Le Prince sold his secret to Charles Greville, and he passed it on to Paul Sandby, who not only became an eminent aquatinter but published a book in 1775 called Twelve Views in Aquatinta. This drew much attention to the beautiful new art, and it rapidly became very popular in England. English aquatinters, like English wood and stipple engravers, always liked colour, whether added by hand or printed in ink, and so we find that the large majority of English aquatinters enjoy the added beauty of colour.

The publishers Ackermann and Boydell both deserve much honour for their consistent patronage of aquatints, and no doubt our splendid record in that art is largely due to their enterprise.

Towards the latter part of the eighteenth century we already find several fine books with hand-coloured aquatint illustrations published in England, among these are W. Hodge’s Select Views in India, 1786; T. Hassell’s Picturesque Guide to Bath, 1793; Combes’ History of the River Thames, with aquatints by J. C. Stadler; E. Orme’s Twelve Views of Places in the Kingdom of Mysore, with aquatints by J. W. Edy; and H. Repton’s amusing Sketches of Landscape Gardening, with moveable plates to show how good his suggested improvements were, all published in 1794, and from this time for the next thirty years were numbers of books issued with coloured aquatints concerning domestic architecture.

Early in the nineteenth century there are still numbers of books with aquatint views in them: J. Webber’s Views in the South Seas, published in 1808, and Boydell’s Picturesque Scenery of Norway, with aquatints by J. W. Edy, in 1820, and several more.

Then Rowlandson, the caricaturist, aquatinted the illustrations for Goldsmith’s Vicar of Wakefield in 1817, and the inimitable Tour of Dr. Syntax, by Combe, in 1820, thereby setting the fashion for caricature in aquatint, which had a considerable vogue.

In Pyne’s History of the Royal Residences, the out-door views are printed in coloured inks, blue for the skies and brown for the foregrounds. They have additional hand-colouring. It is an important book, and was published in 1819; the aquatints are engraved by T. Sutherland, W. F. Bennett, R. Reeve, and others.

Then came a series of fine books on Indian scenery, mostly engraved by T. Medland, Hassell and Ellis, and many books of English views, mostly engraved by D. Havell, T. Sutherland, T. H. Fielding, J. Baily, or T. Cartwright.

Of less importance, but now becoming more esteemed, are the numbers of graceful costume and fashion plates which were done in aquatint and coloured by hand from about 1790 to 1840. These books are already much sought after, and will probably be more and more so in time; the plates are generally anonymous.

William Daniell illustrated Ayrton’s Voyage Round Great Britain with beautiful coloured aquatints; it was published in 1825.

There are many cases in which several kinds of work appear on the same plate; there may be aquatint and etching, mezzotint with etching, engraving or aquatint, so it is very important to be able to judge from the aspect of a line or dot or a point by which method it has been produced.

The magnificent account of the Coronation of George IV., published in 1825, under the care of Sir George Nayler, Garter King of Arms, is illustrated with mixed engravings, stipple, etching, line, aquatint and mezzotint, by S. W. Reynolds and other engravers, chiefly after designs by F. and J. Stephanoff. The plates are coloured by hand, and several of the special copies have much extra artistic work added. It is said to be the most expensive book ever published, and it never repaid its cost, but received a grant in aid from the Government of the day. The majority of the figures are careful portraits, and it is the highest authority for the State costume of the time.

Lithography is the art of drawing upon stone in such a way that prints can be made from the drawing. The drawing has to be done upon a particular sort of stone either directly or by means of transfer from lithographic paper, and it can be done either with a point of solid lithographic ink resembling black chalk, or by a liquid ink, in which case the drawing is called a lithotint. J. M. Whistler was remarkably successful in this latter manner, but it had been used long before by Hullmandel and Cattermole.

The discovery of lithography was due to the experiments of Aloys Senefelder, a native of Prague, who was born late in the eighteenth century. He accidentally found that some writing he had put on one of the stones he used for sharpening his tools upon came off easily on to paper or linen. Then he tried what effect acid would have, and found that it would eat away the stone wherever the ink did not prevent it, so he got a block in low relief. The protective ink is made essentially of wax, tallow, soap, shellac, and lamp black, and the acid renders this insoluble, so that when acid is applied to the stone the parts drawn upon remain unaffected. The drawing ink is now removed, and when printing ink is applied by means of a roller, it sticks only where the drawn lines are, and from this inked stone a print can be obtained.

The surface of a lithograph is quite smooth, and the process will not help an artist in the least—as the drawing is so will the lithograph from it be; the only difference is in the power of reproduction.

Senefelder was unfortunate; he introduced an art to the world which has been very largely followed, but his own efforts were failures from a business point of view. He came to London early in the nineteenth century, and his methods soon found votaries, but he shortly returned to Munich, where his brother had assisted him in setting up a lithographic establishment, and this practically failing, it was taken over by the Bavarian Government and put under the management of H. J. Mitterer, a professor of drawing.

But it was in France that lithography made most rapid progress. The clever French draughtsmen that happened to exist about that time very quickly mastered the process, and between them they established a school of lithography that is unequalled. Many of the greatest French artists worked in it, and some of them specialised in it.

Lasteyrie introduced it, and it was quickly taken up by Horace Vernet, Pierre Guerin, Charlet, and many others for small book illustrations, and about 1830 there are large numbers of caricatures done in this quick and easy way. Then Gericault, Henri Monnier, EugÈne Delacroix, and J. B. Isabey swelled the list of French lithographers, most of the book illustrations being of small size; and a little later there is notable work done by HonorÉ Daumier, Achille Deveria, Raffet, Jean Gigoux and Gavarni, several of them specialising in military subjects. Towards the end of the century we find a new set of artists, many of whom use colour as well as monotint, Fantin-Latour, ChÉret, O. Redon, Gandara and Willett.

The social side of French life is perhaps the most illustrated in lithography.

In England lithography received its first impetus from Senefelder himself, who came and worked in London, where in 1819 his Complete Course of Lithography was published.

C. J. Hullmandel and J. D. Harding were friends and co-workers in the new art, and they were both adepts at it; Hullmandel drew several of the beautiful plates of birds for John Gould, and they were afterwards coloured by hand. From the beginning colour has been much liked by English lithographers, either added by hand or produced by means of “chromo-lithography,” that is, several plates inked in different colours and then printed over each other on one piece of paper.

Roberts’ Holy Land is magnificently illustrated with lithographic plates by Louis Haghe, a left-handed Belgian, who worked here, and these plates were afterwards coloured by hand. Clarkson Stanfield and Cattermole both worked in lithography, and Nash’s Mansions of England in the Olden Time, 1839-49, are familiar to most of us. Nash coloured several copies by hand.

Owen Jones’ Plans of the Alhambra, published 1842-5, are excellent chromo-lithographs. In quite modern times the old tradition is worthily upheld by William Griggs, whose colour plates of Illuminated MSS. in the British Museum are in every way excellent—indeed, for truth and fidelity to their originals they have never been equalled.

Munich was a sort of headquarters of lithography in the early part of the nineteenth century, when H. J. Mitterer succeeded to Senefelder’s establishment there. Among the first lithographers in Germany were J. M. Mittenleiter, who also invented the art of engraving on stone, and Joseph Hauber.

Most of the German lithographers contented themselves with making copies of existing pictures, and one of the finest examples of this kind of lithography is to be found in the GemÄlde Galerie des K. Museums in Berlin, published in 1842, and containing excellent work by Fr. Jentzen, C. Fischer, and others.

Adolf Menzel did some notable lithographic work about the middle of the century, and Mouilleron, Eybl, and Ritter were all excellent workmen.

Belgian lithographers have nearly always been very good; besides Haghe, who worked in England, there were, with others, Tuerlinckoe, Van der Meulen, and Van Loo.

Although there have been lithographic workshops set up at Rome, Florence, Turin, Milan, and other towns, the art has never flourished much in Italy: it never appealed to the sensitive artistic Italian nature. Such examples as do exist are mostly portraits.

Lithography has been popular in Spain, and Spanish artists have done excellent work in this manner.

In 1824 J. de Madrazo published the most important Spanish work illustrated with photographs; it is called Collection lithographica de cuadros del Rey ... Fernando VII., lithographiada por habiles artistas, among whom are named J. Jollivet, P. Blanchard and A. Guerrero. The work of all of these is excellent. Lithographic work in Spain, so far as books are concerned, has been mostly of an archÆological character—views of old buildings or old pictures particularly. F. Goya, however, worked largely in this manner.

All these methods of illustrating books worked by hand have now been superseded by one or other of the wonderful processes made possible by the invention of photography. Some of these are expensive, but generally they are cheap.

The most elaborate, and when well done the most wonderful, of these processes is that known as heliogravure. By means of this method reproductions of line engravings can be made so perfectly that detection is almost impossible. A metal plate is so treated by help of a photographic negative that the lines of the engraving are deposited in an insoluble form upon the plate, which is otherwise clean, then a thin film of metal is deposited on all the clean places by means of electrotyping, so that when the lines are dissolved out, they are in intaglio, just as they were in the original engraved plate. From this artificial plate prints can be made as if from an engraved plate.

For the mezzotint another method is adopted, known as photogravure, and this is also a wonderful invention. A metal plate is slightly roughed—if it could be more roughed it would be better—and then a photographic relief in gelatine is put upon it and etched. The result is a plate resembling a fine grain mezzotint, but the prints made from it are always deficient in the blacks. To remedy this and other defects which at present seem to be inherent, an engraver generally goes over the plate with roulette and burnisher. The Photogravure has ruined the Mezzotint. The coating of the copper-plates with steel largely adds to their life.

Then we come to the wood engravings, which are all perfectly imitated by the zinc block, made directly from the original drawing, and set on a wood block so as to range exactly with type in height. Wash drawings are closely copied by the half-tone process, which is also used with blocks that can be printed with type. The drawing to be copied is photographed through a glass screen very finely etched with minute lines crossing each other, so that the picture is ultimately represented by a series of little squares, black or white according to the tones of the original. But the whites are never quite satisfactory, the dots of the screen always show a little, so the dispossessed wood engraver has to be called in after all to touch them up with a graver. In America, where the half-tone process has reached a very high degree of excellence, the names of these helpful engravers are frequently added. A curious “shot-silk” effect is often seen in half-tone illustrations where the lines of the screen fall at a particular angle with the lines on the original. The same peculiarity sometimes shows in the ruled sky lines in the small nineteenth century line engravings.

The three-colour process consists of half-tone blocks printed in colours one over the other, but although they look well they are not particularly true to their originals. The reason of this is that each block is a little wrongly inked, as the tint of the pigment put upon it depends entirely upon the printer. He has of course a carefully coloured key given him to match for each block, but he never quite succeeds in doing more than get near it. There are line keys and colour blocks, and half-tone and colour blocks, and many other varieties of combinations of processes.

The half-tone process is certainly responsible for much charming and valuable work, but it has done one very great harm not only to itself but even to literature, it has been the chief cause of the introduction of clay-laden paper (see Chap. III.).

The beauty of photographic illustrations can be best seen in some of the recent French illustrated books in colour published by the SociÉtÉ des Amis des Livres. Other exquisite illustrations are to be found in Octave Uzanne’s books, many of them from the drawings of Paul Avril. The way in which many of these illustrations are made to show over the printed page is often quite charming.

BOOKS TO CONSULT.

Baer, L.—Die Illustrirten HistorienbÜcher des 15 Jahrhunderts. Strassburg, 1903.

Bayard, E.—Illustrations et les Illustrateurs. Paris, 1898.

Blackburn, H.—The Art of Illustration. London, 1896-1901.

Bonnet, G.—Manuel de Phototypie. Paris, 1889.

Bonnet, G.—Manuel d’HÉliogravure et de Photogravure en relief. Paris, 1890.

Bouchot, H.—Le Livre, L’Illustration. Paris, 1886.

Bouchot, H.—Les Livres a vignettes. Paris.

Brivois, J.—Bibliographie des livres a gravures sur bois du XIX^e siÈcle. Paris, 1883.

Brough, W. S.—Book Illustration. Leek, 1891.

Bullock, J. M.—Art of Extra Illustration. 1903.

Crane, W.—Of the Decorative Illustration of Books. London, 1901.

Davenport, Cyril.—Mezzotints. London, 1904.

Dobson, A.—(Chapter on Illustrated Books in Lang’s “The Library.”) London, 1881.

Dobson, H. A.—Bewick and his Pupils. London, 1884.

Duchochois, P. C.—Photographic Reproduction Processes. London, 1892.

Farquhar, H. D.—Grammar of Photo-engraving. London, 1895.

Gerring, C.—Notes on Book Illustration. Nottingham, 1898.

Geymet, T.—TraitÉ de Gravure en demi-teint par l’invention du clichÉ photographique. Paris, 1888.

Geymet, T.—TraitÉ de Gravure et impression sur zinc. Paris, 1887.

Geymet, T.—TraitÉ de Photogravure. Paris, 1886.

Geymet, T.—TraitÉ de Photo-lithographie. Paris, 1888.

Grolier Club, New York.—Catalogue of Engraved Titles and Frontispieces published in England during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. New York, 1898.

Hardie, M.—English Coloured Books. London, 1906.

Henrich, M.—Iconographie de las ediciones del Quijote de M. de Cervantes Saavedra. Barcelona, 1905.

Hinton, A. H.—Handbook of Illustration. London, 1895-1905.

Hodson, J. S.—Guide to Art Illustration. London, 1884.

Huson, T.—Photo-Aquatint. London, 1897.

Jackson, J. B.—An essay on engraving in Chiaro Oscuro. London, 1754.

Kirkbridge, J.—Engraving for Illustrations. London, 1903.

Kristeller, P.—Early Florentine Woodcuts. London, 1897.

Kristeller, P.—Die Strassburgher Bucher-illustration im XV. und XVI. Jahrhunderts. Leipzig, 1888.

Lietze, E.—Modern Heliographic Processes. New York, 1888.

Linton, W. J.—The Masters of Wood Engraving. New Haven, Conn., 1889.

Linton, W. J.—Wood Engraving in America. London, 1881.

Madrazo, J. de.—Collection lithografica cuadros del Rey ... Fernando VII. 1824.

Martineau, R.—The Mainz Psalter of 1457 (Bibliographica, Vol. I.).

Massena, A. P. V.—Etudes sur l’art de la gravure sur bois a Venise. Paris, 1895-6.

Morin, L.—French Illustrators. New York, 1893.

Muther, R.—Die deutsche BÜcherillustration. Leipzig, 1884.

Papillon, J. B. M.—TraitÉ de la gravure en bois. Paris, 1766.

Pennell, J.—The Illustration of Books. London, 1896.

Pennell, J.—Modern Illustration. London, 1895.

Pennell, J., and E. R.—Lithography and Lithographers. London, 1898.

Pingrenon, R.—Les livres ornÉs et illustrÉs en couleur depuis le XV^e SiÈcle en France et en Angleterre.

Pollard, A. W.—Early Illustrated Books. London, 1893.

Pollard, A. W.—Italian Book Illustrations. London, 1894.

Roux, V.—TraitÉ de gravure hÉliographique en taille douce. Paris, 1886.

Schnauss, J.—Collotype and Photo-lithography. London, 1889.

Senefelder.—Complete Course of Lithography. London, 1879.

Singer, H. W., and Strang, W.—Etching, Engraving, etc. London, 1897.

Sketchley, R. E. D.—English Book Illustration of To-day. London, 1903.

Smith, F. H.—American Illustrators. New York, 1893.

Strange, E. F.—Japanese Illustration. London, 1897.

Verfasser, J.—The Half-tone Process. London, 1904.

Vidal, L.—TraitÉ Pratique de Photo-lithographie. Paris, 1893.

Villon, A. M.—TraitÉ Pratique de Photogravure. Paris, 1891.

White, J. W. G.—English Illustration, “The Sixties.” Westminster, 1897.

Wiesbach, W.—Die Baseler Buchillustration des XV. Jahrhunderts. Leipzig, 1896.

Wilkinson, W. T.—Photo-mechanical Processes. London, 1892.

Wood, H. T.—Modern Methods of Illustrating Books. London, 1887.