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AN ILLUSTRATED GIFT BOOK.
ABOUT this season we may safely look for a number of elaborately got up books, resplendent with gilding, bound in highly ornamental covers of green or purple, printed with the clearest type on the creamiest paper, and decorated with innumerable woodcuts. These volumes are as infallible forerunners of Christmas as the dark days and muggy weather which usually precede that festive season. It is difficult to conceive what end is answered by the appearance of the Christmas book, unless it be that it affords some pecuniary benefit to those engaged in its production, and an inducement to those people who apparently live only for the purpose of spending money to part with some of their superfluous cash. The Christmas book is "admirably adapted for presents" on that principle which Punch recommended, of giving your friend something that will be perfectly useless to him- as a gold pen to a person who can't write, or a pair of worked braces to a midshipman. Nobody reads the poems ; some have been read before, and the act has been regretted ever since ; others we prefer to read in more convenient editions destitute of illustrations, which too often disturb ourpreconceived ideas of the poet's meaning, just as those who have formed their own opinion of the character of Macbeth or Touchstone do not greatly care to have their ideals inter- fered with by the noble conception of an eminent but hoarse-voiced tragedian, or the mannerisms of the low-comedy man. The illustra- tions do not fare much better than the poems. As part of the furniture of the drawing-room table, the book may engage the atten- tion at odd moments. The cuts will be duly gaped over, and remarks, brilliant or the reverse, made upon them. After a while the gold loses its brilliancy, the cover gets worn at the edges, and a generally shabby appearance ensues. By-and-by the unfortunate volume is stowed away in some dark corner to make room for those which the succeeding season brings forth, and so gradually it becomes uncared for and forgotten.
The practice of selecting a number of poems of a serious and
• English Sacred Poetry of the 16th, 17th, 18th, and 19th Centuries. Selected and Edited by Robert Arils Willmott, MA., Incumbent of Bear Wood. Louden : Rout- ledge, Warne, and Routledge. 1862. frequently a soporific tendency, and handing them over to different artists for illustration, is scarcely attended with satisfactory results. 'The task of selection must be one of difficulty, nearly every poem capable of being illustrated having been done over and over again. It must be as hard to find works that have not been subjected to illustration as it is for the burlesque writer to discover a play that has not alreadysuffered from the indignities practised by his craft. The sub- jects are greatly monotonous, and it is impossible to resist the convic- tion that in many cases the artist has had little sympathy with his work. If it is absolutely necessary to break out in an illustration fever at Christmas-time, could not some means be discovered of allowing each artist to select his own subjects, and treat them in his own way ? The -scheme would not only have novelty to recommend it, but greater freshness and interest would be secured to the work. People must be getting weary of cartloads of serious drawings on vellum paper, and it is high time we have something new. The volume under review presents no striking points of dissimilarity from its fellows. It is one of the best of its class (I refer simply to the illustrations), and has.the advantage of fresh blood, in the shape of work by un- hackneyed hands, to recommend it, but in other respects it is the old tune played over again. The same ingenuity is discoverable in ex- tracting a subject for a cut from the most unpromising materials. An incidental mention of a brook, a shipwreck, or an eagle, will be seized upon as affording scope for an illustration, though that illustration may have no general reference to the poem. To a person unpractised in the mysteries of Christmas book illustration, it might be rather startling to find Heywood's " Search after God" headed by a group of grouse and water-fowl; or to find the title, "God's Argument with Job," in large capitals, under a nest of " croaking ravens bellowing for revenge," or food. But a little experience tells him that, by taking the trouble to read the poem, he will be rewarded for his wxertion by finding some slight allusion to the feathered tribe. The similarity of subject referred to above is strongly enforced _in the present instance. There are no less than twelve drawings of single figures in the act of contemplation—in prison and out of prison— gazing mournfully at flowers or sun-dials, walking, sitting, or lying under trees, and generally _holding a book, to evince the studious nature of the individual represented. Exactly half that number are devoted to prayer; but the solemnity of the action is, in two cases, disturbed by the inconsiderateness of the artists. In one, a number of schoolgirls are praying at a desk; a few inches over their heads are two gas-burners. It is not easy to foresee how they will rise from their knees without inflicting damage to themselves, or to the property of the parish. In the other case, a rigid old widow and her two daughters must be sadly incommoded by the too great proximity of a eheval-glass, introduced apparently for the sole purpose of reflecting a bedpost. Death and its surroundings have yielded inspiration only to four drawings, and "Reading the Bible" has not received that amount of attention it usually obtains both in illustrated books and Academy exhibitions. Of course the artists are not to be blamed for this monotony of subject-matter, they can only operate on what is set before them, and if they fail, it is scarcely a matter for wonder. If stirring situations, strong character, and picturesque incident are not in keeping with the requirements of the work, we must take the best which, under the circumstances, they can do, and be thankful. These remarks do not apply to the landscape or animal draughtsmen, who have the opportunity of working after their own feeling, without let or hindrance, and whose work becomes more genuine in consequence. Proceeding, then, from general to individual criticism, the frontis- piece by Mr. Holman Hunt demands precedence both by its position and the fame of its author. With all due respect for Mr. Hunt's powers, it may still be said that he has done better things, but it is interesting as showing that the left hand of a Jewish rabbi is nearly double the size of the right. Mr. H. H. Armstead, known hitherto as a sculptor, has lately taken to drawing on wood. His work shows great painstaking and far more than average ability, but he is very fond of doing odd things, which mar the effect he might otherwise produce. His drawings are good in parts, but not as a whole. The fiend who tears the crown with such unnecessary violence from the head of a helpless woman of pre-Raphaelite plainness of feature and uncouthness of form, reeals very strongly our old friend 0. Smith in a stirring melodrama, and from a sculptor one might have ex- pected a little less awkward arrangement of the drapery about the woman's knees. In a drawing to Withers's poem "In Prison," Mr. Armstead introduces us to a thoughtful gentleman suffering solitary confinement in a stone cell and a very tight pair of shoes. His feet are so small as to suggest the idea that the prison fare having told upon his system, his frame is dwindling upwards. It is a pity that the wasting away did not commence with the gentleman's calves, which are unnecessarily demonstrative. How the cell-door is ever to be opened with that huge table against it is a mystery which it must be left to Mr. Armstead to explain. His best drawing is in illus- tration of Tennyson's "Dead Man of Bethany." Lazarus, lately returned from his "charnel cave," is asked by Mary, "Where wert thou, brother, these four days ?" The interview takes place by a -latticed window. Through the door may be seen the neighbours cagerly pressing to catch a glimpse of the " man raised up by Christ." The subject is a good one, and Mr. Armstead has treated it with solemnity and appropriate feeling, though the elaborate pattern of the lattice-work distracts the eye too much from the heads of the chief figures. Mr. Keene is not seen to the best advan- tage in his two illustrations. That on page 22 has little of that vigour we are accustomed to look for in his work. The strength of the drawing has probably suffered in the engraving. " Contentment" is far better—brilliant in effect, and drawn with firmness and power. Mr. Sandys draws with astonishing precision, power, and finish, but with little heart. His landscape backgrounds—especially that of the drawing which illustrates "Life's Journey," a labourer picking up a lad who has fallen from a tree while birds'-nesting—are realized with an exactitude and mastery of detail that is not surpassed even in the marvellous etchings of Albert Darer. The two drawings of Mr. Sandys are monuments of the most untiring patience and down- right hard work. The figures are scarcely up to the standard of the landscape. The labourer is very faulty in proportion, and the boy is oddly twisted as he lies on the ground. The same predilection for a forced attitude occurs in the other illustration, where a young girl shovels the snow away from her mother's grave in an attitude that is simply impossible. If any one doubt this, let him take a spade and a looking-glass, and with the book before him, kneel down, and try to show his face and the soles of his feet at the same time. Ten minutes' practice will end in a conviction of the falsity of Mr. Sandys's pose and a crick in the back. The background in this instance is very beautiful and Dureresque. The seven drawings by Mr. Marks will not add to his reputation. They present the most striking in- stance in the book of a man striving with uncongenial themes— working against the grain rather than con amore. His subjects not affording scope for strong contrasts, Mr. Marks loses him- self, and seeks refuge in simple common-place. The miser brood- ing over " a heap of rust " is the least objectionable of the number, but the want of elevation of feeling is apparent in all. The drawing of the oak foliage in "The Atheist and the Acorn " is simply ludicrous. Is it possible that Mr. Marks has never seen an oak-tree? Perhaps the worst drawing in the whole book is from the pencil of a Royal Academician. A. moment's inspection of Mr. F. R. Pickersgill's illustration—the " Destruction of Sennacherib"----will fully corroborate this assertion. Mr. John Gilbert compels our admiration, despite his conventional attitudes, and still more conventional landscape. There are many things to object to in his work, but his great pictorialtalent almost makes us forget them. A little drawing of "Spring," on page 162, is rich in effect, and has a greater look of nature than is usual in the works of Mr. Gilbert. Mr. F. Walker is a young artist, who has already earned a high reputation among his brethren, and cannot fail to take a good stand in public estimation. His drawings are full of tender feeling and unaffected nature. The subject of a child praying at its mother's knee has been often done, but Mr. Walker contrives to make the old story new, not by any striving after originality, but simply from his artless manner of telling it. Mr. Watson, whose illustrations to the "Pilgrim's Progress" are widely known, is the largest, and in many respects the best, contributor. Nearly thirty drawings from his hand, though unequal in merit, show that he possesses a wide and varied range. Animals, landscape, and figures are drawn by him with equal care and equal skill. His work is always thorough, and done as well as he can do it. He has great feeling for nature and country life ; for the life of towns, little. His sense of individuality is not strongly developed ; his faces are not those which stamp themselves on the memory. Mr. Watson is happier in homely and quiet scenes than in the court or the battle- field ;—maternal love, the innocence of the child, and the meditative- ness of the scholar meet with ready sympathy from him ; but he cares little for violent emotion or strong passion. In feeling he somewhat resembles Stothard, and, like Stothard, gives us too much of the good and too little of the bad. A little more strength, a little more energy, and even a spice of honest devilry now and thee, would greatly add to the effect of Mr. Watson's work. In all tech- nical qualities he ranks high. His drawing is careful, truthful, and delicate. The draperies are well understood and tastefully arranged. The hands, almost without exception, are accurate in form and movement. A tendency to heaviness in the limbs, both of human figures and animals, is still one of Mr. Watson's peculiarities. As examples of his skill in landscape I should select " The Corn-field," in the illustration to Gray's " Elegy," and " The lowing herd winds slowly e'er the lea;" the latter is beautiful in its effect of twilight, and the cattle are capitally drawn, with the exception of a too fleshy white cow. The same solemn effect of twilight is shown in " Mut- tering his wayward fancies would he rove," a figure walking with hands behind him in a wood. But perhaps the best of Mr. Watson's drawings is that charming one to Bloomfield's "Moonlight." A shepherd with a dog and crook opening his cottage door and glancing at the moon as he sallies forth to tell his flock. Nothing could be added or taken from this drawing without injury. It is complete, and as full of poetry as the lines it illustrates. The name of W. P. Burton is new in art, but it will soon become widely known. His landscapes show Mowers of very high order; they are truthful, well composed, and ably drawn. Mr. Burton has no conventional set of touches for foliage, but draws beech, yew, or ash with a conscientious respect for the individuality of each member of the forest. His little glimpses of architecture almost bespeak a practical acquaintance with the art. What a delightful little village church is that of Mr. Burton on page 266, compared with the coarsely-drawn pasteboard structure of Mr. Read's, on page 168. No landscape draughtsman on wood appears fitter than Mr. Burton to fill up the gap occasioned by the retirement of Mr. Birket Foster. The only other landscapist whose works adorn this volume is Mr. J. Sliegh. His drawings evince watchful observation and careful study of natural effect, con- siderable feeling for light and shade, and characteristic pencilling. His largest drawing looks somewhat monotonous—an effect of sun- light has been intended but not realized. The engraver, probably, is to blame here. Mr. Wolf's admirable drawings of birds need no
praise of mine to recommend them to the careful inspection of those who appreciate ornithological truth; and those who are not tired of Mr. Harrison Weir's cattle and cocks and hens will find plenty to amuse them. This notice would not be complete without alluding to the en- gravers' share of the work. The Brothers Dalziel have long been celebrated for their truthful interpretation of the work entrusted to them, and with the exception of the instances before alluded to they have never given better proofs of their skill. A little less tendency to "fine down" lines would be desirable. It is possible to be too de- licate, as well as too coarse, and I think the Brothers Dalziel are in- clined to sin on the delicate side. Of the literary portion of the work it is scarcely the province of the "Fine Art" columns to speak, but I cannot resist quoting a part of the Reverend Mr. Willmott's preface. After alluding to Coleridge's notion of omitting from pieces of lyrical poetry those parts in which the bad taste of the author or the fashion of the age " prevailed over his genius," he proceeds, in sen- tences as terse as they are rich in simile : "Doubtless a large num- ber of wholes might, as Coleridge affirmed, be made by such a process. But the picture is injured by the partial cleaning. And even the faults of the poem may sometimes heighten the beauties. The wall of the old church is never improved by sweeping away the moss and weather stains. The result would be similar in poetry. Lovely lines are connected by a discordant stanza. The contrast cannot be avoided. You must have lead-work in the painted window."
DRY POINT.
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