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.

Suddenly, on another page, came a change. A new hand had taken up
the work--that of a novice. He had not the skill of the previous
worker in his best days, but the i