artists of renown, was the property of Cardinal Grimani, and is now one of the treasures of the Library of St. Marc in Venice.  It is impossible in a short space to comment to any adequate extent upon the work of such eminent artists as Jean Foucquet, Don Giulio Clovio, Sano di Pietro, and Liberale da Verona; they were technically at the head of their art, and yet, so far as taste in book decoration is to be considered, their work would be more satisfactory as framed miniatures than as marginal or paginal ornament.

Stippling was brought to its ultimate perfection by Don Giulio Clovio, but it is supposed to have been first practised by Antonio de Holanda.

One of Jehan Foucquet’s assistants was Jehan Bourdichon.  There is an interesting memorandum extant, relating to a piece of illumination which Bourdichon had accomplished.  “To the said B. for having had written a book in parchment named the Papalist, the same illuminated in gold and azure and made in the same nine rich Histories, and for getting it bound and covered, thirty crowns in gold.”

At the time of the Renaissance there was a rage for “tiny books,” miniature copies of famous works.  M. Wuertz possessed a copy of the Sonnets of Petrarch, written in italics, in brown ink, of which the length was one inch, and the breadth five-eighths of an inch, showing fifty lines on a page.  The text is only visible through a glass.  It is in Italian taste, with several miniatures, and is bound in gold filigree.

The value of illuminated books is enormous.  An Elector of Bavaria once offered a town for a single book; but the monks had sufficient worldly wisdom to know that he could easily take the town again, and so declined the exchange!

With the introduction of printing, the art of illumination was doomed.  The personal message from the scribe to the reader was merged in the more comprehensive message of the press to the public.  It was no longer necessary to spend a year on a work that could be accomplished in a day; so the artists found themselves reduced to painting initial letters in printed books, sometimes on vellum, but more often on paper.  This art still flourishes in many localities; but it is no more illumination, though it is often so designated, than photography is portrait painting.  Both are useful in their departments and for their several purposes, but it is incorrect to confound them.

[Illustration:  DETAIL FROM AN ITALIAN CHORAL BOOK]

Once, while examining an old choral book, I was particularly struck with the matchless personal element which exists in a book which is made, as this was, by the hand, from the first stroke to the last.  The first page showed a bold lettering, the sweep of the pen being firm and free.  Animal vigour was demonstrated in the steady hand and the clear eye.  The illuminations were daintily painted, and the sure touch of the little white line used to accentuate the colours, was noticeable.  After several pages, the letters became less true and firm.  The lines had a tendency to slant to the right; a weakness could be detected in the formerly strong man.  Finally the writing grew positively shaky.  The skill was lost.