expressions of thought, which are better so conveyed than by written or printed words. Be the language never so rich in words, or the writer's power in using them never so great, a clearer and a more lasting impression may be conveyed, even to the cultivated, and certainly to the popular mind, by the arrangement of lines and markings in such form as may be felt to actually represent the objects, and indicate the relative position and size of other objects or parts of the same.

This may be said to be the primary and normal function of an Illustration. Throughout the pages of this book, and to whatever extent the student may practise the methods herein described, it may be well to keep very clearly in mind the legitimate function of an illustration, namely: to describe, to portray, and to do this chiefly as an auxiliary to written language.

To such a kind belongs the rude scratchings of the primæval man, whose limited powers of speech forbade his adequately describing the forms of those creatures whose pursuit meant life, whose disregard would mean death, and of such kind were the hieroglyphics of the East. Nay, who shall say that the very forms of letters themselves are not the outcome of early effort to convey to the eye of another what might otherwise only have been imperfectly communicated through other senses: a means to an end; a servant, a tool, in the hands of him who would wield it.

But in the beginning there was a making of drawings and designs which had another purpose. The gourd, or rough clay vessel, was graved and marked with devices and forms suggested by the curves and shapes in Nature, but this was merely for decoration; to please the eye, and not to serve any purpose but to give pleasure. A means to an end in this sense perhaps, but note that the end was in the commencement of it, and went no further after completion; it gave pleasure to the beholder and no more, and nothing more was intended or asked. Thus was Art born—not to teach, nor to explain, nor to illustrate.

AN ESSEX LANDSCAPE.

Half-tone from oil sketch in monochrome. (Original 10⅛ x 6½). [See p. 51.]

Nor is this distinction out of place in the present work. The tendency to-day is too often to make a pretty picture rather than a good illustration; to sacrifice accuracy to beauty; to strive rather after the æsthetic pleasure in art, than the truth and fidelity of illustration. The artist is what he is from the possession of certain instinctive attributes which he is powerless to teach to another, whereas the simpler and expressive forms of draughtsmanship may be attained by almost all. From confusing art with illustration we find a man saying "I cannot do this, or that, because I am no artist," and it is with a hope of placing in the hands of such, at least to some extent, a means of graphic expression, that the present book has been undertaken.

Take also such a simple matter as a letter from a friend, and notice how often words alone fail to convey a correct impression, yet a few lines of simple form at once present a graphic description.

Mr. Blackburn gives a capital example of such a case in his "Art of Illustration." He says: "A newspaper correspondent is in a boat on one of the Italian lakes, and wishes to describe the scene on a calm summer day. This is how he proceeds:

"'We are shut in by mountains,' he says, 'but the blue lake seems as wide as the sea. On a rocky promontory on the left hand the trees grow down to the water's edge and the banks are precipitous, indicating the great depth of this part of the lake. The water is as smooth as glass; on its surface is one vessel, a heavily laden market boat' (and so on). There is no need to repeat it all; but when half a column of word-painting had been written (and well written) the correspondent failed to present the picture clearly to the eye without these four explanatory lines (no more) which should of course have been sent with his letter."

In the same way small sketch plans (no matter how roughly made) are of great assistance in describing the position of a fire, a murder, or anything else of public importance; not to mention the value such descriptive lines often are in private letters.

Whilst, then, Art and Illustration are distinct, and much of the latter may be within the reach of many to whom the former is impossible, there is no reason why either should needlessly offend the canons of the other. Art—seeking, as it should, to awaken a sense of pleasure in the beautiful—adheres to truth, in idea if not in fact. Illustration, which portrays fact truthfully, may yet do so in such manner as shall not annoy the cultivated and artistic senses; and this is the art of illustration.

Here, as in other matters, much depends on a knowledge and exercise of the mere technique or craftsmanship: the means to be employed, and the manner of employing them.

With pen or pencil we might satisfactorily produce such a diagram or drawing as should illustrate our speech, but the exigencies of such gigantic institutions of civilisation as books, magazines, and newspapers, demand that the same illustration shall be presented to thousands of readers at the same time. In former times the original drawing was copied by craftsmen on to wood or metal, and then carved so that a "block," containing the design in relief, might be set up in the printing press and printed in conjunction with the letterpress type.

Wonderful skill did the wood-engraver acquire in reproducing the original and in interpreting the artist's idea; but his work took time, which had to be paid for, and sometimes the artist found that in passing through the intermediary wood-engraver, his intention had been wrongly construed, and even a departure made from the accuracy of his drawing. Then came Photography, and it was found possible to photograph the original on to the surface of the block instead of drawing it. It was next found possible, under given conditions, to substitute for the engraver a purely mechanical means, whereby the surface of the block was suitably carved to print with ink the requisite design.

Thus a photographic and chemical process supplants the hand-work of the engraver, and a perfect replica of the original, in no way dependent upon the personal ability of the engraver, is obtained. The same process, working blindly, produces a facsimile equivalent to the artist's own drawing; and does so with such speed, and at such small expense, that for one penny we may purchase to-day a newspaper filled with exact copies of drawings of events which happened only yesterday. Thousands of books and papers, the world over, are now replete with illustrations: the expense of producing which by the older methods would have made impossible such welcome additions to the printed page.

Nor does it appear that the gigantic dimensions, and high state of perfection, which Process illustration has reached, in any way represents the limit of its possibilities in either respect. It has been reasonably conjectured that in the near future every newspaper and periodical publication will be illustrated, and almost each day sees some advancement, some improvement, in the daily practice