The Only Bookplate Designed By René Lalique

by Stephen J. Gertz

Found in a copy of the Kelmscott Press's The Defence of Guenevere and Other Poems by William Morris (1892) from the collection of Emilie B. Grigsby (1879-1964), this is the only bookplate ever designed by René Lalique (1860-1945), the celebrated French art glass and jewelry designer.

Note her given name at lower left, so well integrated into the background foliage that it almost disappears into it.

Grigsby was a wealthy American bibliophile of "colorful reputation," and the young, comely "ward" (i.e., concubine) of the notorious robber baron, Charles Yerkes (1837-1905) who built (and bilked) the Chicago transit system and Northern and Piccadilly lines in London.

Emilie Grigsby was almost forty years younger than Yerkes but held her own,; she was sophisticated charming, and intelligent. The mansion he built at 660 Park Avenue, New York City - just a few blocks from his Fifth Avenue palace where Mrs. Yerkes lived - was a gift to Emilie, the daughter of a slave-holding father from Kentucky and a brothel madam mom from Cincinnati. Her fine library was sold in New York by Anderson and Company in 1912.

Emilie B. Grigsby.

"A most interesting catalogue of books belonging to Miss Emilie Grigsby, the ward of the late Charles T. Yerkes of Chicago, has been issued by the Anderson Auction Company, which will sell them in the week beginning Jan. 29. It is a woman's library of fine books, not subscription books, but really interesting and beautiful books and fine bindings. The sale includes long series of the William Loring Andrews books; publications of the Essex House, Kelmscott, Vale and other private presses..." (Boston Evening News, January 24, 1912).

"She has a charm one feels at once and responds to, a charm, vague, indescribable, that borders on the aesthetic, the kind that some of Chopin's music exerts over the crudest of us.

"Perhaps her appearance fosters this idea of the spiritual. Golden hair, blue eyes, fragile as a piece of Dresden china, she is as many of our famous artists have painted her. Absolute unconsciousness of her beauty, lack of affectation, simplicity of manners are hers. She listens to what is told her, and speaks when she has something to say. There is no boredom, nor yet effusiveness. She strikes easily and naturally the note so many others have attempted and failed, the note of harmony and perfect poise. No restless striving for this, nor craving for that" (Lillian Barrett, Emilie Grigsby - A Reminiscence.. New York Times, July 16, 1911).

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Bookplate image courtesy of David Brass Rare Books, witrh our thanks.

Image of Grigsby courtesy of University of Illinois Archives, with our thanks.
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Gaskin's Hans Christian Andersen and the Kelmscott Press

by Stephen J. Gertz

Extra illustrated title page.

"Mr. Gaskin's pictures ... of the tales are precisely what they should be, not because they belong to the manner of the Birmingham Art School and symbolize past all patience and affect the absence of aerial perspective shown in the very old wood cuts, but because, in spite of their mannerisms, they give life to the text and express it somehow or other in their long, lank Thumbelinas and Helgas and their young babes. They catch the attention and fix it upon the expression, arbitrary perhaps, yet adequate, of a persoality. Once seen, Mr. Gaskin's Thumbelina will always be the Thumbelina of the story..."

So said the New York Times book review in 1895 of a new edition of The Stories and Fairy Tales of Hans Christian Andersen. Arthur J. Gaskin's illustrations to this edition would serve as his calling card to William Morris and lead to assignments for the Kelmscott Press, the most celebrated private press of them all.

The Philosopher's Stone.

Arthur Joseph Gaskin (1862 – 1928) was an English illustrator, painter, teacher and designer of jewellery and enamelwork. Gaskin was a member of the Birmingham Group of Artist-Craftsmen, which sought to apply the principles of the Arts and Crafts movement across the decorative arts. Like many of the group, Gaskin studied at the Birmingham School of Art under Edward R. Taylor and later taught there.

What the Moon Saw.

Gaskin worked as a decorative artist from 1890, and within a few years attracted the  attention of William Morris.

The Marsh King's Daughter.

"...Where in England was Morris to find the artists who could satisfactorily illustrate the Kelmscott books? The answer, surprisingly, was Birmingham, where the arts-and-crafts movement flourished more vigorously than anywhere else in the provinces, mainly through the influence of the municipal School of Art. 

She Was Good For Nothing.

"Three youthful artists associated with the School - Artur J. Gaskin, Charles M. Gere, and Edmund New - were doing attractive book illustrating during the 1890s, and Morris was aware of them and their work. 'Gaskin, a young Birmingham artist, called in the afternoon [at Kelmscott House] with a number of very pretty drawings for an edition of Hans Andersen which Geo Allen is going to publish,' [Sydney] Cockerell noted in his diary...

The Old House.

"...Morris's attitude towards Gaskin and Gere was ambivalent: he was grateful for their loyalty to the arts-and-crafts ideals, yet his praise for their work was often cautious and qualified. In an interview in the Daily Chronicle (9 Oct. 1893), he was quoted as saying that 'there is a great quantity of excellent art, but the only thing that is new, strictly speaking, is the rise of the Birmingham school of book decorators...these young men of the Birmingham School of Art - Mr. Gaskin [et al] - have given a new start to the art of book decorating.'

The Wild Swans.

"In another interview...two years later, however, Morris remarked: 'I think they have, in Gaskin and New, two very good men, who have ideas and originality. For the most part, however, they follow too slavishly the opposition to conventionality...but you must remember that the Birmingham people have not yet found their feet. They will do good work yet, I am sure.' This was faint praise indeed...

The Sleep of Holger Danske.

"Gaskin's relationship with Morris was, if anything, even more turbulent than Gere's. Subsequently known as a designer of jewelry, Gaskin was scheduled to illustrate a Kelmscott Press edition of The Roots of the Mountains that never materialized; Morris also arranged for him to design the pictures for The Well at the World's End and The Shepheard's Calendar (1896).

Illustration by Gaskin to The Shepheard's Calender (1896).

"The twelves designs for the latter book are impressive - Gordon Ray has called them 'perhaps the most successful of Kelmscott Press illustrations,' a judgment in which Colin Franklin concurs" (Peterson, The Kelmscott Press, pp. 157-8).

Big Claus and Little Claus.

The Rose Elf.

"Mr. George Allen issues  also a really excellent edition of Andersen's Fairy Tales. The translation is by Dr. H.O. Sommer, and there are 100 drawings by Mr. Arthur J. Gaskin, under whose direction the 'Book of Pictured Carols' was produced. It will be a pleasure to many to renew acquaintance with Big Claus and Little Claus, and all the other friends of our childhood, in this excellent edition" (Literary World, December 1, 1893).

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[GASKIN, Arthur J., illus.]. ANDERSEN, Hans Christian. Stories and Fairy Tales by Hans Christian Andersen. Translated by H. Oskar Sommer. With 100 Pictures by Arthur J. Gaskin. London: George Allen, 1893.

One of 300 Large Paper Copies printed on hand-made paper. Two quarto volumes (9 3/4 x 7 5/16 in; 248 x 186 mm). [2], xi, [1, blank], 398, [2]; [2, blank], xii, 426, [2, blank] pp. Initials. One hundred black and white illustrations, many full page, including frontispieces and extra illustrated title pages.
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Images courtesy of David Brass Rare Books, with our thanks.

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The "Other Man" Behind the Private Press Movement

Walker, photographed by George Bernard Shaw.
Photo courtesy of the Emery Walker Trust

Many people have heard of William Morris. Those with an interest in fine printing or fine binding will know the names of St. John Hornby and T. J. Cobden-Sanderson. Few, however, remember the man who had more influence on the design of modern books than any of these great craftsmen: Sir Emery Walker (1851–1933). Walker was the son of a coachbuilder, and left school at 13 to support his family after his father went blind. He did not have the advantage of an Oxford education or of a comfortable middle-class upbringing. He was, however, smart and talented, with a keen sense of aesthetics. In the early 1870s, he found his calling when he went to work for Alfred Dawson, a printed who had perfected a new method of etching called glyptography. Walker worked for Dawson's Typographic Etching Company for 10 years, before leaving in 1883 to start his own firm of "process and general engravers, draughtsmen, map-constructors, and photographers of works of art."

Hammersmith Terrace. Photo courtesy of the Emery Walker Trust

Walker's new office and house were in Hammersmith Terrace, a riverside neighborhood in London that was also home to William Morris. The two men discovered shared interest in socialism and craftsmanship which led to a lifelong friendship. Both were active in the Hammersmith Socialist Society and were founders of the influential Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society. Walker was especially fond of the rare books known as incunabula, meaning they were printed before 1500.

A Leaf from a Bible printed by Nicolaus Jenson in 1476

According to the Emery Walker Trust, "A lecture given by Walker in 1888 at which he projected magic-lantern slides of photographs he had taken of 15th-century typefaces gave Morris the idea for the last great project of his life, the Kelmscott Press." Walker declined to be a partner in the press, citing "'some sense of proportion' and no capital to risk." (DNB) However, he acted as an unofficial advisor to the press throughout Morris' life.

The English Bible from the Doves Press

In 1900, Walker joined with bookbinder T. J. Cobden-Sanderson to found the Doves Press as a vehicle for the production of the "Book Beautiful." Unlike the productions of the Kelmscott or Ashendene presses, Doves books had no illustrations or decoration other than the occasional very simple hand-painted initial, as seen on the opening page of the Doves Bible, above. As Cave says, the Doves Press books, "completely without ornament or illustration, . . . depended for their beauty almost entirely on the clarity of the type, the excellence of the layout, and the perfection of the presswork."

A closer view of the Doves type

The Doves type, renowned for its beauty and readability, was designed by Walker, based on the typography of the 15th century Venetian printer Nicolas Jenson. The eccentric Cobden-Sanderson was not the easiest person to get along with, and in 1909 a bitter disagreement between the two founders caused Walker to leave the press. Cobden-Sanderson carried on alone until 1916 when, after shutting down the press, he committed one of the greatest crimes in the history of typography: he threw all of Walker's gorgeous Doves type into the Thames, so it could never be used by anyone else (particularly Walker).

The Ashendene Dante, printed in Walker's Subiaco type

Luckily, other examples of Walker's fine typograhics designs live on, notably in two fonts he designed for the Ashendene Press, the Subiaco (based on that of 15th century printers Sweynham and Pannartz, and the Ptolemy, based on 15th German type. However, as the DNB notes, "his great reputation among students of typography rests on a far wider basis, for he was keenly preoccupied with the appearance of the everyday book, and not only with its rich relations. It is scarcely too much to say that his influence, direct or indirect, can be discerned in nearly every well-designed traditional typographical page that now appears, and that to him more than to any other man the twentieth century's great improvement in book production in Britain was due. Walker's exacting taste demanded close, even typesetting, perfect harmony between text and illustration, and excellent materials."

Sir Emery Walker.
Photo courtesy of the Emery Walker Trust

The three ideal examples of modern typography are considered to be the Kelmscott Chaucer, the Doves Bible, and the Ashendene Dante. Walker inspired the first, printed the second, and designed the type for the third. He also went on to print an number of fine books at his own press, including a translation of Homer by Lawrence of Arabia. He was a modest man who did not trumpet his own achievements, and readers today who appreciate a well-designed page are unaware that they owe a debt to this genius of typography.

Down With Industrialism! William Morris and the Private Press Revolt

Jacobus de Voragine's Golden Legend (Kelmscott Press, 1892)

The Industrial Revolution had a profound effect on the world of books: mechanization made it possible to produce thousands of copies of a work quickly and inexpensively. The upside of mass production was the increased availability and affordability of books; the downside was shoddy materials and workmanship. When I first came to work in the rare book business, I was astonished to find that many of the incunables (printed before 1500) in our inventory had brighter, fresher leaves than those in 19th century books. The reason was simple: the early books were printed on a higher quality paper than the mass-produced books.

John Ruskin (Portrait Courtesy of Project Gutenberg)

The Industrial Revolution caused a backlash against mass production in many areas of British society. In the influential essay "The Nature of Gothic," John Ruskin warned, "the great cry that rises from all our manufacturing cities, louder than their furnace blast, is all in very deed for this—that we manufacture everything there except men; we blanch cotton, and strengthen steel, and refine sugar, and shape pottery; but to brighten, to strengthen, to refine, or to form a single living spirit, never enters into our estimate of advantages." Rusking saw the separation of intellectual and manual activity as a reinforcement of class distinctions: "gentlemen" believed manual labor was beneath them, and working men, turned into automatons by the factories, had no ownership of or pride in their work.

William Morris by G. F. Watts (1870). Portrait courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

One of Ruskin's dispciples was William Morris (1834-96),who, among many other accomplishments, was the most important figure in the revival of printing in England at the end of the 19th century. As Feather says, "Morris was a remarkable man in many ways; at Oxford, he had been under the influence of the Pre-Raphaelites, and had carried this influence into his subsequent work as an architect and designer." Morris "looked back to the Middle Ages as a period when free craftsmen, untrammeled by capitalism, pursued their avocations and produced objects which were both useful and esthetically worthwhile. He became involved with the Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society, which sought to promote guild socialism to revive this lost world. The Kelmscott Press was a product of this ethos, the immediate influence being Emery Walker's famous lecture on typography to the Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society in November 1888."

Morris' Love is Enough (Kelmscott Press, 1897)

Seeking to revive what he considered to be the purity of printing's first century, Morris founded the Kelmscott Press in 1891, marking the beginning of the modern private press movement. In his "Note" about the press, which took the form of the final Kelmscott book, Morris explains that he "began printing books with the hope of producing some which would have a definite claim to beauty, while at the same time they should be easy to read and should not dazzle the eye, or trouble the intellect of the reader by eccentricity of form in the letters." This was an understatement of the first order: his press produced 53 titles in 66 volumes, all of them notable in some way, along with three memorable typefaces: Golden, Troy, and Chaucer.

Syr Perecyvelle of Gales (Kelmscott Press, 1895)

Many of the Kelmscott Press books were decorated with woodcut "white vine" borders designed by Morris, and were sometimes illustrated by his dear firend, the Pre-Raphaelite painter Edward Burne-Jones. The type was cut and set by hand, the paper made by hand, and the leaves printed by hand. One of the Kelmscott books, a printing of Morris' Gothic Architecture: A Lecture for the Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society, was printed in public as a "moving exhibit" during the 1893 Arts and Crafts Exhibition held in the New Gallery, becoming one of the exposition's most popular attractions. It was also the Kelmscott book of which the most copies (1,500) were printed. The labor intensive printing process limited the run of most books to between 250 to 500 copies on paper, with perhaps another dozen or so "deluxe" copies printed on vellum.

Syr Ysambrace (Kelmscott Press, 1897)

Kelmscott focused on printing the work of contemporary poets like Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Tennyson, English classics, and medieval literature. The great work of the press was the Kelmscott Chaucer, a reprinting of the works by the author of the Canterbury Tales, lavishly illustrated with 87 engravings by Burne-Jones and borders by Morris.

The Kelmscott Chaucer (1896). Photo courtesy of the Queen's College Library

A pigskin binding in the medieval style was crafted by Douglas Cockerell. Four years in the making, it remains one of the three greatest productions of the modern private press movement. Morris not only left a legacy of some of the most beautiful books ever printed, he sparked a movement that prospered in the first quarter of the 20th century and that lingers on today, as we will discover in upsoming weeks.
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Except where otherwise noted, all images courtesy of Phillip J. Pirages Fine Books & Manuscripts.
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Typography Geeks and Font Snobs

 

Are you one of those people who check the colophon of the bestseller you just finished reading to see what type was used? Me too!! Do you also lose all respect for people who use Comic Sans in professional presentations? It's like we were separated at birth. Knowing geeks in both the book world and in the digital domain, I know people who will almost come to blows over typeface choices. There are situations where you cannot even bring up Comic Sans MS without starting a fight.

The most recent issue of the Fine Press Book Association's journal Parenthesis contains an article on typography design that made me think about typefaces designed by printers long dead that influence our lives today. When you pull down the font menu in your word processing program, you may see fonts named Caslon or Baskerville. Both are named for important English printers.

William Caslon (1692-1766) was an influential English typeface designer (and gunsmith) whose Caslon Foundry produced the type that was used for the first printed version of the Declaration of Independence. Variations of his attractive serif font are still in common usage.

Specimens of Caslon Typeface

John Baskerville (1706-75) followed in Caslon's footsteps, developing new styles of type and printing, and developing a process to make paper smoother and whiter, the better to display his crisp black type.

Remember John the next time you choose Baskerville Old Face from your font menu.

The Industrial Revolution in the 19th century resulted in mass produced typefaces and poorer quality printing that offended the sensibilities of some, among them William Morris, leader of the Arts and Crafts movement in England. Morris, seeking a return to the proud artisan tradition of such early printers as Nicolas Jenson and Sweynham & Pannartz, founded the Kelmscott Press to produce beautiful books printed with handset types he designed himself.

Kelmscott books were printed in three great fonts: Golden (designed for and named for Voragine's The Golden Legend), Troy, a black-letter or Gothic-style typeface, and Chaucer, the typeface used in Kelmscott's greatest production, Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.

Friends of Morris also founded private presses and designed their own typefaces. Charles Harry St. John Hornby and his wife Cecily established the Ashendene Press, where they resurrected the beautiful Subiaco typeface used by the early Venetian printers Sweynham & Pannartz.

The Ashendene Press Life of St Francis of Assisi

Type designer and illustrator Eric Gill worked at the Golden Cockerel Press, creating typefaces and woodcuts for what was the greatest private press in the period between the two world wars. When you review your font choices in your favorite word processing program, you are likely to see at least two of Gill's creations, Gill Sans and the lovely Perpetua, my personal favorite font.


Perhaps the greatest typography geek and font snob of them all was Doves Press founder Thomas James Cobden-Sanderson. C-S had already established a name for himself as a bookbinder when he decided to venture into printing as well. He collaborated with Emery Walker, an engraver who had an impressive collection of 15th century typefaces. Together they developed the beautful Doves type, one of the greatest typographic achievements of the modern age. Below is a picture of the opening page of the Doves Bible, one of the three greatest private press books (the other two being the Kelmscott Chaucer and the Ashendene Dante).


Like the classic English eccentric he was, Cobden-Sanderson decided he could not let his typeface be abandoned to the use of the undeserving when he shut down the Doves Press in 1916. Rather than let it fall into the wrong hands, he walked out onto Hammersmith Bridge in London and threw all of the type into the Thames.

The next time you find yourself cornered by typography geeks at a bookish cocktail party, all you have to do is say, "Which was better, the Subiaco type or the Doves?" You can safely slip away while the font snobs battle it out. Don't bother to thank me. Just avoid using Comic Sans in professional correspondence and I'll consider us even.

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Images courtesy of WikiCommons.