THE BOOKPLATES

LELAND STANFORD JR. UNIVERSITY

Palo Alto, California

THE MEANING OF THE FRONTISPIECE

(From The Stanford Alumnus, January, 1913)

The Jewel Fund bookplate is made the frontispiece of the ALUMNUS this month not merely because the readers of the magazine will be interested in seeing the unique and beautiful design which is being affixed to the University's books, but because Stanford's alumni will perceive in it, summed up and epitomized by a master artist, the spirit which maintained and animated the University in its early days, and which still persists. To Stanford men and women there is a deeper symbolism in Blashfield's simple and dignified composition than appears to others. To these others Athene, goddess of learning, panoplied in her helmet, coat of mail and owl-escutchioned shield, seated in a portico, with scroll and laurel at her feet, is accepting the gifts of Clio, muse of history, and in return conferring upon her the winged statue, wreath and balm in hand, emblem of victory. To us there is deeper purportwe catch the full significance that the artist intended when he made a rope of pearls conspicuous in the casket of all her wealth that Clio offers with outstretched arms. And it was this deeper significance that touched Blashfield and persuaded him to do something he had never done before, to accept a commission to design a bookplate.

For it may be imagined that it was no simple matter to persuade an artist who is accustomed, as he is, to the sweep and color and varied composition possible on the walls and domes of great buildings to contract his brush stroke to the space and limits of a bookplate. But when the Jewel Fund was established and a bookplate to symbolize its meaning was desired, it was felt that Blashfield, with his classic spirit, his purity of line and his dignity of design, was the man to do it if he would.

The conception that had formed in the minds of those who had the matter in charge was this: The story of the jewels is one that will be told as long as the University lives; it will be the theme of orators to fire their hearers with the spirit of the heroic

early days; it is a chapter in the annals of Stanford that will always be fresh; the story of the noble woman who offered without reserve all the wealth that was left in her hands and said, "The University can be kept alive by these till the skies clear and the money that was destined for the future shall come into the future's hands" is a part of history. And so they proposed to the artist a fitting theme, Clio, the muse of history, offering gifts to Athene. With this suggestion, also, they sent President Jordan's tribute to Mrs. Stanford, with its story of the jewels.

This narration of the devotion of a noble woman, so fittingly written, epic in its elevation, idyllic in its simplicity, was the inspiration of the artist. With enthusiasm Blashfield seized upon the task of drawing the bookplate, and soon had finished the first sketch of his composition. In it he had added a new thought, completing the story. The winged victory in the picture is Blashfield's own idea. It says a word in the telling of the story that had never been said so clearly before. Others had told of the sacrifice and struggle; he emphasized the victory.

The idea at first was to reproduce the design by engraving, and the artist made a pen and ink drawing from his original charcoal, with that in view. But it seemed to him that the spirit of his idea could be conveyed better by retaining the soft gradations of the charcoal than by the sharp black and white of pen and engraver's tool. As a consequence, the method of reproduction finally agreed upon was the form of photogravure seen in the bookplate.

Edwin Howland Blashfield is, of course, one of the leading artists of this country. Of late years his fame as a mural painter has so overshadowed his earlier work in other forms of painting that he is thought of always by the average American in that connection. He was born in 1848 in New York, where he still makes his home. He is, therefore, sixty-five years old. While still a youth he took up the study of art in Paris under a number of eminent painters, all of whom perceived his genius. In 1874 he had his first picture in the Salon, and for a number of years his work was hung there annually. In 1881 he returned to the United States. His first great piece of mural painting to attract popular attention was in one of the domes of the Manufactures Building at the Columbian Exposition in Chicago. Since then his brush has beautified the interior of a multitude of public buildings and magnificent private homes. The great central dome

of the Library of Congress in Washington, one of the most splendidly decorated buildings in the world, shows the work of his hand. He is an author, also, and has lectured on art at Columbia, Yale, Harvard and other colleges. A broad-minded, mellowsouled man, as was shown three years ago by an address he made before the American Academy of Arts and Letters, which was afterwards printed in the North American Review on "The Actual State of Art Among Us." A genial gentleman, yet just in his censure, strict in his ideals; a man able to laugh quietly at passing folly and to hold to his optimism for the future; a man with the quick perception and buoyancy of youth, the broad vision and steadfastness of age. Such by his spoken thought he shows himself. A man peculiarly qualified to commemorate with an artist's touch, for all the future generations of Stanford students, a lofty passage in the University's history, to symbolize it for an enduring inspiration to their youth.

THE STORY OF THE JEWELS

In President Jordan's recent book, "The Story of a Good Woman," which is in substance his Founders' Day address in 1909, he quotes the story of the Jewel Fund, which in turn was first presented by him at the foundation of the Library Building in 1905. It was this narration of Mrs. Stanford's struggle and sacrifice in the days of trial for the University, and particularly his history of the jewels, a narration that in the simplicity of its language and the directness of its sentiment has the favor of an allegory, that inspired Blashfield the artist in designing the bookplate. The bookplate and this story of the jewels supplement and interpret each other, belong naturally together. Dr. Jordan's words are therefore given here:

"There was once a man-a real man, vigorous, wealthy and powerful. He loved his wife greatly, for she, wise, loyal, devoted, was worthy of such love. And because among all the crystals in all the world the diamond is the hardest and sparkles the brightest, and because the ruby is most charming, and the emerald gentlestthe man bought gifts of these all for his wife.

"As the years passed a great sorrow came to them; their only child died in the glory of his youth. In their loneliness there came to these two the longing to help other children, to use their wealth and power to aid the youth of future generations to better

and stronger life. They lived in California and they loved California; and because California loved them, as she loves all her children, this man said, 'The children of California shall be my children.' To make this true in very fact he built for them a beautiful 'Castle in Spain,' with cloisters and towers, and 'red tile roofs against the azure sky'-for 'skies are bluest in the heart of Spain.' This castle, the Castle of Hope, which they called the university, they dedicated to all who might enter its gates, and it became to them the fulfilment of the dream of years-a dream of love and hope, of faith in God and good will toward man.

"In the course of time the man died. The power he bore vanished; his wealth passed to other hands; the work he had begun seemed likely to fail. But the woman rose from her second great sorrow and set herself bravely to the task of completing the work as her husband had planned it. "The children of California shall be my children'-that thought once spoken could never be unsaid. The doors of the castle once opened could never be closed. To those who helped her in these days she said: 'We may lose the farms, the railways, the bonds, but still the jewels remain. The university can be kept alive by these till the skies clear and the money which was destined for the future shall come into the future's hands. The university shall be kept open. When there is no other way, there are still the jewels.'

"Because there always remained this last resource, the woman never knew defeat. No one can who strives for no selfish end. 'God's errands never fail,' and her errand was one of good will and mercy. And when the days were darkest, the time came when it seemed the jewels must be sold. Across the sea to the great city this sorrowful, heroic woman journeyed alone with the bag of jewels in her hand that she might sell them to the money changers that flocked to the Queen's Jubilee. Sad, pathetic mission, fruitless, in the end, but full of all promise for the future of the university, founded in faith and hope and love-the trinity, St. Paul says, of things that abide.

"But the jewels were not sold, save only a few of them, and these served a useful purpose in beginning anew the work of building the university. Better times came. The money of the estate, freed from litigation, became available for its destined use. The jewels found their way back to California to be held in reserve against another time of need.

"A noble church was erected—one of the noblest in the land, a fitting part of the beautiful dream castle, the university. It needed to make it perfect the warmth of ornamentation, the glory of the old masters, who wrought 'when art was still religion.' To this end the jewels were dedicated. It was an appropriate use, but the need again passed. Other resources were found to adorn the church-to fill its windows with beautiful pictures, to spread upon its walls exquisite mosaics like those of St. Mark's, rivaling even the precious stones of Venice.

"In the course of time the woman died also. She had the satisfaction of seeing the buildings of the university completed, the cherished plans of her husband, to which she had devoted anxious years, fully carried out. Death came to her in a foreign land, but in a message written before her departure to be read at the laying of the cornerstone of the great library, she made known the final destiny of the jewels. She directed that they be sold and their value made a permanent endowment of the library of the university.

"And so the jewels have at last come to be the enduring possession of all the university—of all who may tread these fields or enter these corridors. In the memory of the earlier students they stand for the Quadrangle, whose doors they kept open, and for the adornment of the church, which shall be to all generations of students a source of joy and rest, a refining and uplifting influence. To the students who are to come in future days the message of the jewels will be read in the books they study within these walls and the waves of their influence spreading out shall touch the uttermost parts of the earth.

"They say there is a language of precious stones, but I know that they speak in diverse tongues. Some diamonds tell strange tales, but not these diamonds. In the language of the jewels of Stanford may be read the lessons of faith, of hope and good will. They tell how Stanford was founded in love of the things that abide."