Fabulous sums were spent upon his blocks, even small ones costing as
much as four pounds apiece. He must always have the very best wood, no
matter the cost, and it was only the whitest, smoothest and glossiest
boxwood that satisfied him. Enormous sums were spent upon this material,
and to his honour be it recorded, that no matter the destination of a
block, the same cost, thought and minute manipulation were expended upon
a trifling commission as upon one involving thousands of pounds. The
penny paper was treated precisely the same as the volume to be brought
out at two guineas. In the zenith of his fame as an illustrator, at a
time when tip-top authors and editors were all clamouring for his
drawings, he did not despise humbler admirers and clients. His delight
in his work was only equalled by quite abnormal physical and mental
powers. Sleep, food, fresh air, everything was forgotten in the
engrossment of work. At this time he would often give himself three
hours of sleep only.

Dore's ambition--rather, one of his ambitions--was to perfect wood
engraving as an art, hence his indifference to the cost of production.
Hence, doubtless, his persistence in drawing on wood without preliminary
sketch or copy.

Perhaps such obsession was natural. How could he foresee the variety of
new methods that were so soon to transform book illustration? Anyhow,
herein partly lies the explanation of the following notice in a
second-hand book catalogue, 1911--

"No. 355. Gustave Dore: _Dante's Inferno_, with 76 full-page
illustrations by Dore. 4to, gilt top, binding soiled, but otherwise good
copy. _42s._ for _3s. 6d._ London, n.d."