d ordinary
fields of art. Printing itself would greatly benefit from a flourishing
development of original bookmaking, gaining just that stimulus on the
art side that it needs to counterbalance the pressure of commercialism.
At present, however, we shall commit no injustice if, while remembering
its more perfect original, we accept the printed book as the
representative of the book beautiful; but, as a matter of fact, most
that we shall have to say of it will apply with little change to the
manuscript book.

A final point by way of preface is the relation of the book beautiful to
the well-made book. The two are not identical. A book may be legible,
strong, and durable, yet ill-proportioned and clumsy, ugly in every
detail. On the other hand, the book beautiful must be well made, else it
will not keep its beauty. The point where the two demands tend most to
conflict is at the hinge of the cover, where strength calls for
thickness of leather and beauty for thinness. The skill of the good
binder is shown in harmonizing these demands when he shaves the under
side of the leather for the joint. Let us now take up the elements of
the book one by one and consider their relations to beauty.

To one who never had seen a book before it would seem, as it stands on
the shelf or lies on the table, a curious rectangular block; and such it
is in its origin, being derived from the Roman codex, which was a block
of wood split into thin layers. When closed, therefore, the book must
have the seeming solidity of a block; but open it and a totally new
character appears. It is now a bundle of thin leaves, and its beauty no
longer consists in its solidity and squareness, but in the opposite
qualities of easy and complete opening, and flowing curves. This inner
contradiction, so far from making the book a compromise and a failure,
is one of the greatest sources of its charm, for each condition must be
met as if the other did not exist, and when both are so met, we derive
the same satisfaction as from any other combination of strength and
grace, such as Schiller celebrates in his "Song of the Bell."

The book therefore consists of a stiff cover joined by a flexible
back--in the book beautiful a tight back--and inclosing highly flexible
leaves. The substance of the board is not visible, being covered with
an ornamental material, either cloth or leather, but it should be strong
and tough and in thickness proportioned to the size of the volume. I