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Details about the “Inscriptions” in the “Prints by Jackson” section
of catalog are given at the beginning of that section.]
SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION
UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM
[Illustration:
Smithsonian symbol]
BULLETIN 222
WASHINGTON, D.C.
1962
United States Government Printing Office, Washington, 1962
For sale by the Superintendent of Documents,
U.S. Government Printing Office
Washington 25, D.C.
_John Baptist Jackson:_
18th-Century Master
of the Color Woodcut
_Jacob Kainen_
Curator of Graphic Arts
Museum of History and Technology
_Publications of the United States National Museum_
The scholarly publications of the United States National Museum include
two series, _Proceedings of the United States National Museum_ and
_United States National Museum Bulletin_.
In these series are published original articles and monographs dealing
with the collections and work of the Museum and setting forth newly
acquired facts in the fields of Anthropology, Biology, History, Geology,
and Technology. Copies of each publication are distributed to libraries
and scientific organizations and to specialists and others interested in
the different subjects.
The _Proceedings_, begun in 1878, are intended for the publication in
separate form, of shorter papers. These are gathered in volumes, octavo
in size, with the publication date of each paper recorded in the table
of contents of the volume.
In the _Bulletin_ series, the first of which was issued in 1875, appear
longer, separate publications consisting of monographs (occasionally in
several parts) and volumes in which are collected works on related
subjects. _Bulletins_ are either octavo or quarto in size, depending on
the needs of the presentation. Since 1902 papers relating to the
botanical collections of the Museum have been published in the
_Bulletin_ series under the heading _Contributions from the United
States National Herbarium_.
This work forms number 222 of the _Bulletin_ series.
REMINGTON KELLOGG
_Director, United States National Museum_
CONTENTS
_Page_
_Preface_ IX
Jackson and his Tradition 3
_The Woodcut Tradition_ 4
_Status of the Woodcut_ 7
_The Chiaroscuro Tradition_ 9
Jackson and his Work 13
_England: Obscure Beginnings_ 14
_Paris: Perfection of a Craft_ 17
_Venice: The Heroic Effort_ 25
_England Again: The Wallpaper Venture_ 40
_Critical Opinion_ 51
_Postscript_ 54
Catalog 69
_Prints by Jackson_ 71
_Jackson’s Workshop_ 90
_Unverified Subjects_ 95
The Chiaroscuros and Color Woodcuts 97
_Bibliography_ 171
_Index to Plates_ 177
_Index_ 181
_PREFACE_
John Baptist Jackson has received little recognition as an artist. This
is not surprising if we remember that originality in a woodcutter was
not considered a virtue until quite recently. We can now see that he was
more important than earlier critics had realized. He was the most
adventurous and ambitious of earlier woodcutters and a trailblazer in
turning his art resolutely in the direction of polychrome.
To 19th century writers on art, from whom we have inherited the bulk of
standard catalogs, lexicons, and histories-- along with their
judgments-- Jackson’s work seemed less a break with tradition than a
corruption of it. His chiaroscuro woodcuts (prints from a succession of
woodblocks composing a single subject in monochrome light and shade)
were invariably compared with those of the 16th century Italians and
were usually found wanting. The exasperated tone of many critics may
have been the result of an uneasy feeling that he was being judged by
the wrong standards. The purpose of this monograph, aside from providing
the first full-length study of Jackson and his prints, is to examine
these standards. The traditions of the woodcut and the color print will
therefore receive more attention than might be expected, but I feel that
such treatment is essential if we are to appreciate Jackson’s
contribution, in which technical innovation is a major element.
Short accounts of Jackson have appeared in almost all standard
dictionaries of painters and engravers and in numerous historical
surveys, but these have been based upon meager evidence. A fraction of
his work was usually known and details of his life were, and still are,
sparse. Later writers interpreting the comments of their predecessors
have repeated as fact much that was conjecture. The picture of Jackson
that has come down to us, therefore, is unclear and fragmentary.
If he does not emerge from this study completely accounted for from
birth to death, it has not been because of lack of effort. Biographical
data for his early and late life-- about fifty years in all-- are almost
entirely missing despite years of diligent search. As a man he remains a
shadowy figure. I have traced Jackson’s life as far as the available
evidence will permit, quoting from the writings of the artist and his
contemporaries at some length to convey an essential flavor, but I have
refrained from filling in gaps by straining at conjecture.
While details of his life are vague, sufficient information is at hand
to reconstruct his personality clearly enough. After all, Jackson wrote
a book and was quoted at length in another. A contemporary
fellow-practitioner wrote about him with considerable feeling. These and
other sources give a good indication of the artist’s character.
The man we have to deal with had something excessive about him; he was
headstrong, tactless, impractical, enormously energetic, a prodigious
worker, a conceiver of grandiose projects, and a relentless hunter of
patrons. He was at home with his social superiors and had some
pretentions to literary culture, he had a coarse gift for the vivid
phrase in writing, and his tastes in art ran to the classic and heroic.
This study includes an illustrated catalog of Jackson’s chiaroscuros and
color prints. Previous catalogs, notably those of Nagler, Le Blanc, and
Heller, have listed no more than twenty-five works. The present catalog
more than triples this number.
To acknowledge fully the assistance given by museum curators,
librarians, archivists, and scholars on both sides of the Atlantic would
necessitate a very long list of names. However, I wish especially to
thank Mr. Peter A. Wick of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, who has been
generous enough to allow me to read his well-documented paper on
Jackson’s Ricci prints; Mr. A. Hyatt Mayor of the Metropolitan Museum of
Art; Mr. Carl Zigrosser of the Philadelphia Museum of Art; Miss Anna
C. Hoyt and Mrs. Anne B. Freedberg of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston;
Dr. Jakob Rosenberg and Miss Ruth S. Magurn of the Fogg Art Museum; Mr.
Karl Kup of the New York Public Library; Miss Elizabeth Mongan of the
Rosenwald Collection, National Gallery of Art; Miss Una E. Johnson of
the Brooklyn Museum; Mr. Gustave von Groschwitz of the Cincinnati Art
Museum; and Dr. Philip W. Bishop of the U.S. National Museum,
Smithsonian Institution.
I am particularly grateful to curators of European collections, who have
been uniformly generous in their assistance. Special thanks are due Mr.
J. A. Gere of the British Museum and Mr. James Laver of the Victoria and
Albert Museum, who have gone to considerable trouble to acquaint me with
their great collections. Others whose help must be particularly noted
are Mr. Peter Murray, Courtauld Institute of Art, University of London;
Mme. R. Maquoy-Hendrickx of the Bibliothèque Royale de Belgique,
Brussels; Dr. Vladimír Novotný of the Národní Galerie, Prague; Dr.
Wegner of the Graphische Sammlung, Munich; Dr. Wolf Stubbe of the
Kunsthalle, Hamburg; Dr. G. Busch of the Kunsthalle, Bremen; Dr. Hans
Möhle of the Staatliche Museen, Berlin; Dr. Menz of the Staatliche
Kunstsammlungen, Dresden; Miss B. L. D. Ihle of the Boymans Museum,
Rotterdam; and M. Jean Adhémar of the Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris.
The excellent collections of chiaroscuro prints in the Museums of the
Smithsonian Institution have formed a valuable basis for this monograph.
These prints include the set of Jackson’s Venetian chiaroscuros,
originally owned by Jackson’s patron, Joseph Smith, British Consul in
Venice, now in the Rosenwald Collection, National Gallery of Art, and
the representative sampling of Jackson’s work in the Division of Graphic
Arts, U.S. National Museum.
I am indebted to the following museums which have kindly given
permission to reproduce Jackson prints in their collections. These are
listed by catalog number.
Smithsonian Institution 16, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 (also in color), 24,
25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 39, 50, 51, 52, 53 (also in color), 54, 55,
56, 57, 58, 63
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston (W. G. Russell Allen Estate) 1 (also in
color), 11, 14, 23, 33, 34, 38, 40 (also in color)
Fogg Art Museum 13 (also in color)
Worcester Art Museum 32
Metropolitan Museum of Art 5 (Rogers Fund) (also in color), 17, 31
(gift of Winslow Ames), 73 (Whittelsey Fund)
Philadelphia Museum of Art (John Frederick Lewis Collection) 2, 60,
61, 62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 74
British Museum 2 (in color), 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 12, 15, 37, 41, 42, 43
(also in color), 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49 (also in color), 59, 69, 70,
71, 72, 75, 76 (photographs by John R. Freeman & Co.)
Victoria and Albert Museum (Crown copyright) 3, 35, 36, 40
Finally, I want to thank the Editorial Office of the Smithsonian
Institution for planning and designing this book; the Government
Printing Office for their special care in its production; and Mr. Harold
E. Hugo for his expert supervision of the color plates.
A grant from the American Philosophical Society (Johnson Fund), made it
possible to conduct research on Jackson in Europe. Acknowledgment is
herewith gratefully given.
JACOB KAINEN
_Smithsonian Institution_
_September 1, 1961_
_John Baptist Jackson_
18th-Century Master
of the Color Woodcut
Jackson and His Tradition
_The Woodcut Tradition_
Although the woodcut is the oldest traditional print medium it was the
last to win respectability as an art form. It had to wait until the
1880’s and 1890’s, when Vallotton, Gauguin, Munch, and others made their
first unheralded efforts, and when Japanese prints came into vogue, for
the initial stirrings of a less biased attitude toward this medium, so
long considered little more than a craft. With the woodcut almost
beneath notice it is understandable that Jackson’s work should have
failed to impress art historians unduly until recent times. Although he
bore the brunt as an isolated prophet and special pleader between 1725
and 1754, his significance began to be appreciated only after the turn
of the 20th century, first perhaps by Martin Hardie in 1906, and next
and more clearly by Pierre Gusman in 1916 and Max J. Friedländer in
1917, when modern artists were committing heresies, among them the
elevation of the woodcut to prominence as a first-hand art form. In this
iconoclastic atmosphere Jackson’s almost forgotten chiaroscuros no
longer appeared as failures of technique, for they had been so regarded
by most earlier writers, but as deliberately novel efforts in an
original style. The innovating character of his woodcuts in full color
was also given respectful mention for the first time. But these were
brief assessments in general surveys.
If the woodcut was cheaply held, it was at least acceptable for certain
limited purposes. But printing pictures in color, in any medium, was
considered a weakening of the fiber-- an excursion into prettification
or floridity. It was not esteemed in higher art circles, except for a
short burst at the end of the 18th century in France and England. This
was an important development, admittedly, and the prints were coveted
until quite recently. They are still highly desirable. But while
Bartolozzi stipple engravings or Janinet aquatints in color might have
commanded higher prices than Callots or Goyas, or even than many Dürers
and Rembrandts, no one was fooled. The extreme desirability of the color
prints was mostly a matter of interior decoration: nothing could give a
finer 18th century aura. It was not so much color printing that
mattered; it was _late 18th century_ color printing that was wanted,
often by amateurs who collected nothing else. Color prints before and
after this period did not appeal to discriminating collectors except as
rarities, as exotic offshoots. Even chiaroscuros, with their few sober
tones, fell into this periphery. Jackson, as a result, was naturally
excluded from the main field of attention.
The worship of black-and-white as the highest expression of the graphic
arts[1] automatically placed printmakers in color in one of two
categories: producers of abortive experiments, or purveyors of popular
pictures to a frivolous or sentimental public. This estimate was
unfortunately true enough in most cases, true enough at least to cause
the practice to be regarded with suspicion. As an indication of how
things have changed in recent years we can say that color is no longer
the exception. It threatens, in fact, to become the rule, and
black-and-white now fights a retreating battle. A comparison of any
large exhibition today with one of even 20 years ago will make this
plain.
[Footnote 1: The purist’s attitude was pungently expressed by
Whistler. Pennell records this remark: “Black ink on white paper
was good enough for Rembrandt; it ought to be good enough for
you.” (Joseph Pennell, _The Graphic Arts_, Chicago, 1921, p.
178.)]
At first glance Jackson seems to be simply a belated 18th-century worker
in the chiaroscuro process. If to later generations his prints had a
rather odd look, this was to be expected. Native qualities, even a
certain crudeness, were expected from the English who lacked advantages
of training and tradition. And Jackson was not only the first English
artist who worked in woodcut chiaroscuro, he was virtually the first
woodblock artist in England to rise beyond anonymity[2] (Elisha Kirkall,
as we shall see, cannot positively be identified as a wood engraver) and
he was the only one of note until Thomas Bewick arose to prominence
about 1780. He was, then, England’s first outstanding woodcutter. We
will find other instances of his significance from the English
standpoint, but his being English, of course, would have a small part in
explaining the importance of his prints.
[Footnote 2: The only earlier name is that of George Edwards.
Oxford University has most of the blocks for a decorated alphabet
he engraved on end-grain wood for Dr. Fell in 1674. Further data
on Edwards can be found in Harry Carter’s _Wolvercote Mill_,
Oxford, 1957, pp. 14, 15, 20, and in Moxon’s _Mechanick Exercises,
or the Doctrine of Handy Works Applied to the Art of Printing_.
(Reprint of 1st ed., 1683, edited and annotated by Herbert Davis
and Harry Carter, Oxford, 1958, p. 26n.)]
Jackson made, in fact, the biggest break in the traditions of the
woodcut since the 16th century. He broadened the scope of the
chiaroscuro print and launched the color woodcut as a distinct art form
that rivaled the polychrome effects of painting while retaining a
character of its own. These were not modest little pieces of purely
technical interest. The set of 24 sheets reproducing 17 paintings by
Venetian masters made up the most heroic single project in chiaroscuro,
and the 6 large landscapes, completed in 1744, after gouache paintings
by Marco Ricci, were the most impressive color woodcuts in the Western
world between the 16th century and the last decade of the 19th.
But Jackson’s grand ambition to advance the woodcut beyond all other
graphic media had little public or private support and finally led him
to ruin. His efforts were made with insufficient means and with few
patrons. As a consequence, he rarely printed editions after the blocks
were cut and proofed. The Venetian set is well known because it was
printed in a substantial edition. A few additional subjects were also
sponsored by patrons, but most of Jackson’s other chiaroscuros were
never published-- they were limited to a few proofs. Editions were
postponed, no doubt, in the hope that a patron would come along to pay
expenses in return for a formal dedication in Latin, but this did not
often happen. Most subjects exist in a few copies only; of some, single
impressions alone remain. Others have entirely disappeared.
With a large part of Jackson’s work unknown, his reputation settled into
an uneasy obscurity which, it must be granted, has not prevented his
work from being collected. The chiaroscuros, especially the Venetian
prints, can be found in many leading collections in Europe and the
United States, but the full-color sheets after Ricci are excessively
rare, particularly in complete sets.
Jackson has long been considered an interesting figure. _His Essay on
the Invention of Engraving and Printing in Chiaro Oscuro_...,[3] with
its bold claims to innovation and merit, his adventurous career as an
English woodcutter in Europe, his adaptation of the color woodcut to
wallpaper printing and his pioneering efforts in this field, and
Papillon’s immoderate attack on him in the important _Traité historique
et pratique de la gravure en bois_[4] will be discussed later. For the
moment we can say that the Essay was the first book by an Englishman
with color plates since the _Book of St. Albans_ of 1486, with its
heraldic shields in three or four colors, and the first book with
block-print plates in naturalistic colors.[5]
[Footnote 3: Jackson, London, 1754. Hereafter cited as Essay.
Other references bearing directly on Jackson will receive only
partial citation in the text. They are given in full in the
bibliography, page 171.]
[Footnote 4: Papillon, Paris, 1766. Hereafter cited as the
_Traité_.]
[Footnote 5: Occasional book illustrations in two or three
colors, confined chiefly to initial letters and ornamental
borders, appeared as early as the 15th century. Ratdolt in 1485
printed astronomical diagrams in red, orange, and black, and used
similar colors in a Crucifixion in the _Passau missal_ of 1494.
The _Liber selectarum cantionum_ of Senfel, 1520, however, has a
frontispiece printed in a broad range of colors from more than
four woodblocks. The design is attributed to Hans Weiditz.]
Although critics have been interested in Jackson as an historical
figure, they have been uncertain about the merit of his work. Opinions
vary surprisingly. Most judgments were based on the Venetian
chiaroscuros and depended upon the quality of impressions, many of which
are poor. Criticisms when they have been adverse have been surprisingly
harsh. It is unusual, to say the least, for writers to take time
explaining how bad an artist is. To do this implies, in any case, that
he warrants serious attention; space in histories is not usually wasted
on nonentities. We can see now that Jackson was misunderstood because
the uses of the woodcut were rigidly circumscribed by tradition.
_Status of the Woodcut_
After the 15th century the woodcut lost its primitive power and became a
self-effacing medium for creating facsimile impressions of drawings and
for illustrating and decorating books, periodicals, and cheap popular
broadsides. At its lowest ebb, in the late 17th century, and in the
18th, it was used to make patterns for workers in embroidery and
needlework and to supply outlines for wallpaper designs to be filled in
later by “paper-stainers.”
The prime deficiency of the woodcut as an art form lay in the division
of labor which the process permitted. Draughtsmen usually drew on the
blocks; the main function of the cutter was to follow the lines
precisely and carefully. Small room existed for individual style or
original interpretation; there was little in the technique to
distinguish one cutter from another. In spite of these limitations,
gifted cutters could rise beyond the dead level of ordinary practice. As
fine draughtsmen with a feeling for their materials they did not trace
with the knife, they drew and carved with it. Their feeling for line and
shape was sensitive, crisp, and supple. But although they created the
masterpieces of the medium they suffered from the traditional contempt
for their craft. Creative ability in a woodcutter was rarely recognized,
and the art fell into gradual decline. By the time the 18th century
opened it had been almost entirely abandoned as a means of creating and
interpreting works of art, and had been relegated to a minor place among
the print processes.
The attitude of the print connoisseur was clearly stated as early as
1762 by Horace Walpole:[6]
I have said, and for two reasons, shall say little of wooden cuts;
that art never was executed in any perfection in England: engraving
on metal was a final improvement of the art, and supplied the
defects of cuttings in wood. The ancient wooden cuts were certainly
carried to a great heighth, but that was the merit of the masters,
not of the method.
[Footnote 6: Walpole, 1765 (1st ed. 1762), p. 3.]
William Gilpin in 1768 went even further. Describing the various
contemporary print processes he omitted the woodcut entirely as not
worthy of consideration. He acknowledged that “wooden cuts” were once
executed by early artists but made no additional reference to the
medium.[7]
[Footnote 7: William Gilpin, _An Essay on Prints_, London, 1781
(1st ed. 1768), p. 47. “There are three kinds of prints,
engravings, etchings, and mezzotintos.”]
As late as 1844 Maberly[8] cautioned print amateurs to steer clear of
block prints:
Prints, from wooden blocks, are much less esteemed, or, at least,
are, generally speaking, of greatly less cost than engravings on
copper; and there are connoisseurs who may, perhaps, consider them
as rather derogatory to a fine collection.
[Footnote 8: Maberly, 1844, p. 130.]
Specialized histories of wood engraving, written mainly by 19th-century
practitioners and bibliophiles, have tended to emphasize literal
rendition rather than artistic vision. The writers favored wood
engraving executed with the burin on the end grain of hard dense wood,
such as box or maple, because it could produce finer details than the
old woodcut, which made use of knife and horizontally grained wood. They
judged by narrow craft standards concerned with exact imitation of
surface textures. Linton, for example, is almost contemptuous in his
references to the chiaroscuro woodcut:[9]
... The poorest workman may suffice for an excellent chiaroscuro.
I do not depreciate the artistic value as chiaroscuros of the
various prints here noted nor underestimate the difficulty of
production; but my business has been solely with the not difficult
knifecutting and graver cutting of the same.
[Footnote 9: Linton, 1889, p. 215. A woodcut in the German manner
was far more difficult to manage than Linton imagined. Bewick
tried to imitate the cross-hatched lines of a Dürer woodcut
without success. He finally concluded (1925, pp. 205-207) that the
old woodcutters had used two blocks, each with lines going in
opposing directions, and had printed one over the other!]
_The Chiaroscuro Tradition_
The chiaroscuro woodcut was originally designed to serve a special
purpose, to reproduce drawings of the Renaissance period. These were
often made with pen and ink on paper prepared with a tint or with brush
and wash tones on white or tinted paper. Highlights were made and
modeled with brush and white pigment; the result had something of a
bas-relief character. Neither line engraving nor etching was suited to
reproducing these spirited drawings, but the chiaroscuro woodcut could
render their effects admirably. Its nature, therefore, was conceived as
fresh and spontaneous, as printed drawing, in fact.
Chiaroscuros were usually of two types, the German and the Italian. The
Germans specialized in reproducing line drawings made on toned paper
with white highlights. The woodcuts, however, could stand by themselves
as black-and-white prints; the tones required separate printing. The
typical German chiaroscuro was therefore from two blocks. The earliest
dated print in this style is Lucas Cranach’s _Venus_, with “1506”
appearing on the black block. But the brown tint might have been added a
few years later. Jost de Negker, working after drawings by Hans
Burgkmair, cut blocks which are dated, on the black block at least, as
early as 1508, and work by Hans Baldung and Hans Wechtlin appeared
shortly after.
The Italian style originated with Ugo da Carpi, who in 1516 petitioned
the Senate in Venice to grant him exclusive rights to the chiaroscuro
process, which he claimed to have invented. For many years, until
Bartsch adduced proof in favor of the Germans, da Carpi was conceded to
be the founder of this process. His first work dates from 1518 but
obviously he produced prints earlier-- how much earlier is uncertain.
Working mainly after the loose, fresh wash drawings of Raphael and
Parmigianino he developed a method of reducing their tonal constituents
to two or three simple areas plus a partial outline, each of which was
cut on a separate block. The blocks were then inked with transparent
tones and printed one over the other to achieve gradations. White
highlights were imitated, as in the German manner, by cutting out lines
on a tone block to let the white paper assert itself. The result was a
broadly treated facsimile of the original drawing. Some liberties were
occasionally taken in interpretation, and sometimes fanciful changes
were made in color combinations.
This technique was followed in Italy during the remainder of the 1500’s,
the most prominent early workers being Antonio da Trento (Fantuzzi),
Domenico Beccafumi, and Giuseppe Niccolò Vicentino. Late in the century
Andrea Andreani acquired a large number of blocks by previous Italian
chiaroscurists and reissued them, adding his own monogram. By
multiplying these subjects he reduced their rarity and emphasized their
distinct character, their difference from other types of prints. The
Italian term “chiaroscuro,” meaning light and dark, has persisted as a
generic name for this class of work.
The Italian and German techniques were often pursued in variant styles.
The Germans sometimes used three blocks, with outlines not only in black
but in a tone and white as well. Burgkmair’s _Death as a Strangler_ (B.
40)[10] and Wechtlin’s _Alcon Freeing his Son from the Serpent_ (B. 9)
are of this type.
[Footnote 10: Adam Bartsch, _Le Peintre graveur_, Vienna,
1803-1821.]
The Italians, in turn, often used two blocks in the German fashion,
reproducing a complete crosshatched pen drawing with one tint block.
Even da Carpi used this procedure more than occasionally, as in _St.
John Preaching in the Desert_ after Raphael (B. XII), and in _The
Harvest_ after Giulio Romano (B. XII). Most other Italian chiaroscurists
made frequent use of this method which had the virtue of simplicity.
Outstanding exponents included Niccolò Boldrini, who worked chiefly
after drawings by Titian, and in the early 17th century the brothers
Bartolomeo and G. B. Coriolano. Andreani’s prints were usually in a more
independent style which employed a clear outline in gray or soft brown
with three tints blocks. While technical procedures were identical in
Italian and German chiaroscuros after pen drawings, the Italian work
tended to be looser than the German, which was more careful and
methodical.
The Italian style, then, strictly interpreted, was simply the da Carpi
style. Less rigorously considered, it included the free Italian variants
of the German process.
Hendrick Goltzius of Haarlem, whose first chiaroscuros date from 1588,
combined both Italian and German influences with marvelously crisp
drawing and cutting and sharper color combinations than were common.
Paulus Moreelse, a Dutch artist in the first half of the 17th century,
employed a dark block in clear outline but modeled his forms internally
in the da Carpi manner. The technical procedure was therefore close to
Andreani’s.
A number of other well-known artists including Simon Vouet and
Christoffel Jegher, and quite a few anonymous ones, also turned out
occasional pieces in the first half of the 17th century, generally in
the manner of da Carpi or Goltzius. Perhaps the most prolific was
Ludolph Businck, who created prints in France especially after drawings
by George Lallemand.
After this period little was done in the medium until 1721, when Count
Antonio Maria Zanetti in Venice made his first chiaroscuro woodcut. He
worked consistently for almost thirty years and sent proofs to his
friends in Europe, mostly important connoisseurs, through whom the
prints became widely known. For the most part they were in the da Carpi
style, to which he added a light charm. Between 1722 and 1724 Elisha
Kirkall in London published twelve chiaroscuros after Italian masters.
The prints were done in a combination of media-- etching and mezzotint
with relief blocks in either wood or metal-- and were outside the
woodcut tradition, but they attracted attention to the old process. In
about 1726 Nicolas and Vincent Le Sueur in Paris produced some
chiaroscuros, and a year later Jackson made his first example. The Le
Sueurs followed da Carpi’s method while Jackson used a loosely drawn
outline and three tint blocks in a slight variation of the Andreani
style.
One characteristic was shared in common by all early chiaroscurists;
their work always reproduced drawings, usually in exact size. Jackson
added a new dimension to the medium in 1735 by beginning to work after
oil paintings.[11] His attempt to convey their scale, solidity, and
tonal range, while retaining the woodcut’s breadth of execution, was
perhaps carrying the chiaroscuro into complexities for which it was not
suited. The method called for extraordinary talents in planning,
drawing, cutting, and printing, and it resulted in impressions that
could not escape a certain heaviness of effect when compared with
traditional work. Jackson’s prints in this style are both daring and
original, but no later woodcutter had either the desire or the temerity
to follow his example. The method remained a dead end in chiaroscuro.
[Footnote 11: Andrea Andreani in 1599 published ten plates after
cartoons of Mantegna’s nine paintings, _The Triumph of Julius
Caesar_ (B. 11), printed from four blocks in variations of gray.
But Mantegna’s cartoons were basically drawings in monochrome, and
Andreani’s fine chiaroscuros did not differ appreciably from the
usual examples.]
[Illustration:
Tailpiece in _L’Histoire naturelle éclaircie dans une de ses
parties principales, l’oryctologie_, by D. d’Argenville, De Bure,
Paris, 1755. This is one of the cuts Jackson made between 1725-1730.
Actual size.]
Jackson and His Work
_England: Obscure Beginnings_
Little is known of Jackson’s early years. It is assumed that he was born
in England about 1700, although many accounts, probably based upon
Nagler, have him born in 1701. Papillon[12] conjectures that he studied
painting and engraving on wood with “an English painter” named “Ekwits,”
but is not sure he remembers the name correctly. He believes this artist
engraved most of the head pieces and ornaments in Mattaire’s _Latin
Classics_, published by J. and R. Tonson and J. Watts in London, 1713,
and remarks on similarities with Jackson’s style. Chatto[13] believes
these cuts were executed by Elisha Kirkall, interpreting the initials
_EK_ appearing on one of the prints to refer to this engraver rather
than to “Ekwits.” He goes on to assume that Kirkall also engraved the
blocks for Croxall’s edition of _Aesop’s Fables_, 1722, by the same
publisher, and adds that Jackson was probably his apprentice and might
have had some share in their execution. Most accounts of Jackson, taking
Chatto’s word, note him as a pupil of Kirkall.
[Footnote 12: Papillon, 1766, vol. 1, p. 323. Most probably
Papillon confused “Ekwits” with Elisha Kirkall.]
[Footnote 13: Chatto and Jackson, 1861 (1st ed. 1839), p. 448.]
Linton[14] believes that only Kirkall or Jackson could have made the
cuts, “unless some _Sculptor ignotus_ is to be credited with that most
notable book of graver-work in relief preceding the work of Bewick.”
[Footnote 14: Linton, 1889, p. 130.]
But it is doubtful that Jackson was a pupil of Kirkall. For this
assumption we have the evidence of a curious and important little book,
_An Enquiry into the Origins of Printing in Europe_,[15] which because
of a misleading title and an anonymous author has been overlooked as a
reference source. It is a transcription of Jackson’s manuscript journal
and was prepared for publication to coincide with the launching of the
wallpaper venture, Kirkall is mentioned as follows (pp. 25-26):
... I shall give a brief account of the State of Cutting on Wood in
England for the type Press before he [Jackson] went to France in
1725. In the beginning of this Century a remarkable Blow was given
to all Cutters on Wood, by an invention of engraving on the same
sort of Metal which types are cast with. The celebrated Mr.
_Kirkhal_, an able Engraver on Copper, is said to be the first who
performed a Relievo Work to answer the use of Cutting on Wood. This
could be dispatched much sooner, and consequently answered the
purpose of Book-sellers and Printers, who purchased these sort of
Works at a much chaper [sic] Rate than could be expected from an
Engraver on Wood....
[Footnote 15: London, 1752. Hereafter cited as the _Enquiry_. The
first half deals with Jackson’s opinions on the origins of
printing from movable type and the progress of cutting on wood,
the second half with Jackson’s career and his venture into
wallpaper manufacturing. The real content of the book was so
little known that Bigmore and Wyman’s comprehensive, annotated
_Bibliography of Printing, London, 1880-86_, vol. 1, p. 201,
described it as dealing with “certain improvements in
printing-types made by Jackson, the typefounder.”]
It does not seem reasonable that Jackson would learn the art of
woodcutting from Kirkall and then refer to him as a famous engraver on
copper and type metal. It is just as difficult to believe that Kirkall
taught Jackson to work on metal, not wood.
The “EK” who engraved the blocks for Mattaire’s _Latin Classics_ might
very well have been Kirkall, whose style also might have had something
in common with Jackson’s early work. But this would not necessarily
indicate a definite influence. English pictorial relief prints for book
illustration in the first decades of the 18th century had one
characteristic in common; they were almost all done with the engraver’s
burin on type metal or end-grain boxwood. They therefore showed elements
of a “white-line” style as opposed to the black-line or knife-cut method
commonly used in other countries. While it is likely that Jackson was an
exception to the general rule in England (we have his word for it in the
_Enquiry_, as we shall see), he was also deeply influenced by the
prevailing English style of burin work on wood or type metal. If
Papillon saw a similarity between Jackson’s cuts and those in the _Latin
Classics_, it might have been because he was unfamiliar with other
examples of English work and did not recognize a national style.
The initials “J. B. I.” appear on a small cut in the 1717 edition of
Dryden’s plays, also published by Tonson. If this is an early piece by
Jackson it would indicate that he might have been born earlier than
1701, although it is conceivable that he could have made it when he was
sixteen.
This is the extent of the evidence, or rather lack of evidence, of
Jackson’s early years in England. Nothing is certain except that
woodblock work was at a particularly low ebb. Standards in typography
and printing were rude (Caslon was just beginning his career), far
inferior to those on the Continent. Cuts were used rather sparingly by
printers, and almost always for initial letters (these included little
pictures), for tailpieces, and for decorative borders. As a measure of
economy the same cut was often repeated throughout a book. Also, initial
letters were sometimes contrived to permit the type for different
capitals to be inserted in the center area, so that in some instances no
more than two cuts were needed to begin alternate chapters in a volume.
Rarely were woodblocks employed to illustrate the text. Pictures were
almost always supplied by the copper-plate engraver, even when the
prints were small and surrounded with typographical matter. This was an
expensive and troublesome procedure, but it was the only one possible
where an able group of cutters or engravers on wood did not exist and
where printers found it difficult to achieve good impressions on the
uneven laid paper of the time.
The main employment for knife cutters on wood was in making the popular
prints, or illustrated broadsides, which had been sold in city and
village throughout the country since the early 1600’s. Plank and knife
could be used for these prints because of the generally large size of
the pictures and the lack of sophistication of the audience. They are
described by Bewick from his memories as a boy in the 1760’s:[16]
I cannot, however, help lamenting that, in all the vicissitudes
which the art of wood engraving has undergone, some species of it
are lost and done away: I mean the large blocks with the prints from
them, so common to be seen, when I was a boy, in every cottage and
farm house throughout the country. These blocks, I suppose, from
their size, must have been cut on the plank way on beech, or some
other kind of close-grained wood; and from the immense number of
impressions from them, so cheaply and extensively spread over the
whole country, must have given employment to a great number of
artists, in this inferior department of woodcutting.... These
prints, which were sold at a very low price, were commonly
illustrative of some memorable exploits, or were, perhaps, the
portraits of eminent men.... Besides these, there were a great
variety of other designs, often with songs added to them of a moral,
a patriotic, or a rural tendency, which served to enliven the circle
in which they were admired. To enumerate the great variety of these
_pictures_ would be a task.
[Footnote 16: Bewick, 1925 (1st ed. London, 1862), pp. 211-212.]
Bewick adds that some of these popular woodcuts, although not the great
majority, were very good. Since this was the main field for woodcutters,
it is an interesting conjecture that Jackson might have been trained for
this craft. As he matured, we can assume that he felt the urge to excel
as a woodcutter and left the country to develop his potentialities.
It must be remembered that in painting and engraving England was far
behind the continental countries, which could boast of centuries of
celebrated masters. The medieval period persisted in England until the
time of Henry VIII. Traditional religious subjects, so indispensable to
European art, were thereafter generally proscribed. There was no
fondness as yet for themes of classical mythology, and the new and
developing national tradition in painting had to form itself on the only
remaining field of pictorial expression, portraiture. Standards of style
were set by foreign artists who were lured to England to record its
prominent personages in a fitting manner. Beside such masters as
Holbein, Zuccaro, Moro, Geeraerts, Van Dyck, Mytens, Lely, Kneller,
Zoffany, and Van Loo, among others, native painters seemed crude and
provincial. The list of foreign artists other than portraitists who
visited England before 1750 for varying periods is also impressive.
If good native painters were rare in the first decades of the 18th
century, good engravers or woodcutters were even rarer. Hogarth, whose
earliest prints were produced in the 1720’s, received his training from
a silversmith.
Jackson’s next move was toward the Continent.
_Paris: Perfection of a Craft_
Jackson arrived in Paris in 1725, his age 24 if we accept 1701 as his
birth date. Here flourished a brilliant community of artists, craftsmen,
dealers, and connoisseurs; woodcutting, etching, and line engraving were
highly developed and the printing offices made extensive use of woodcuts
for decoration and illustration. The woodcut tradition mimicked line
engraving and was confined chiefly to tiny blocks wrought with the
utmost delicacy. The main influence came from the 17th century-- in
particular from the etchings and line engravings of Sébastien Le Clerc
and from the etchings of Jacques Callot, whose simple system of swelling
parallel lines, with occasional cross-hatchings, was adopted by both
line engravers and woodcutters.
Le Clerc, whose style was influenced by Callot, had produced a vast
number of illustrations involving subjects of almost every type; his
designs, therefore, were ready-made for publishers who wanted good but
low-priced illustrations. Woodcutters copied his engravings shamelessly,
line for line. The overblown high Baroque style in ornament, swag, and
cartouche was also drawn upon as a source for decorative cuts. In an
attempt to imitate the full tonal scale of engraving, the woodcutters
used heavier lines in the foreground to detach the main figures from the
background, which was made up of more delicate lines. Background lines
were often narrowed further by scraping down their edges, an operation
that caused them to merge imperceptibly into the white paper. In this
way, although the natural vigor of the woodcut suffered, an effect of
space and distance was achieved. Because of the small scale this
technique was difficult, especially when cross-hatching was added, and
special knives as well as a phenomenal deftness were needed to work out
these bits of jewelry on the plank grain of pear, cherry, box, and
serviceberry wood.
Jackson’s initial impression of the state of woodcutting in France is
described in the _Enquiry_ (p. 27):
From this Account it is evident that there was little Encouragement
to be hoped for in England to a Person whose Genius led him to
prosecute his Studies in the ancient Manner; which obliged Mr.
_Jackson_ to go over to the Continent, and see what was used in the
_Parisian_ Printing-houses. At his arrival there he found the
_French_ Engravers on Wood working in the old Manner; no Metal
Engravers, or any of the same Performance on the end of the Wood,
was ever used or countenanced by the Printers or Booksellers in that
City. He tells us that he thought himself a tolerable good Hand when
he came to _Paris_, but far inferior to the Performances of
Monsieurs _Vincent le Seur_ and _Jean M. Pappillon_....
Jackson admits benefiting from the friendship and advice of these
woodcutters, then goes on to describe their work with a ruthless
frankness. Le Sueur, he says, was a brilliant copyist of the line
engravings of Sébastien Le Clerc but, because he was a line-for-line
copyist, lacked skill in drawing. Papillon’s father, also a woodcutter
who copied Le Clerc, avoided cross-hatching, which Jackson considered an
essential ingredient of the true style of black-and-white woodcutting;
Papillon himself, while described as a draughtsman of the utmost
accuracy, was criticized for making his work so minute that it was
impossible to print clearly. Jackson says in the _Enquiry_ (pp. 29-30):
If his Father neglected Cross Hatching, the Son affected to outstrip
the _le Seurs_ in this difficult Performance, and even the ancient
_Venetians_, believing to have fixed a _Non plus ultra_ in our Times
to any future Attempts with Engraving on Wood.
... I saw the Almanack[17] in a horrid Condition before I left
_Paris_, the Signs of the Zodiack wore like a Blotch,
notwithstanding the utmost Care and Diligence the Printer used to
take up very little Ink to keep them clean. I have chosen to make
mention of these two _Frenchmen_ as the only Persons in my time
keeping up to the Stile of the ancient Engraving on Wood; and as
they favoured me with their Friendship and Advice during my abode in
_Paris_, I thought in Justice to their good Nature it was proper to
give some Account of their Merit!
[Footnote 17: The _Petit almanach de Paris_, founded by J. M.
Papillon in 1727 and illustrated with his woodcuts.]
Acknowledgment of friendship and merit in this vein, while entirely true
(Papillon was minute to the point of exhibitionism, and his cuts were
often not adapted to clear printing), demonstrates the lack of tact that
made powerful enemies for Jackson wherever he traveled. Papillon no
doubt read the _Enquiry_, in which he was discussed at length, and the
well-known _Essay_, with its aggressive tone and irresponsible claims.
When Papillon’s _Traité_ came out in 1766 he took the opportunity to put
the English artist in his place. Certainly his account was colored by
Jackson’s writings; there is no other explanation for this display of
personal bitterness in a work published 36 years after the Englishman
left Paris (pp. 327-328):
J. Jackson, an Englishman who lived in Paris for a few years, might
have perfected himself in wood engraving, which he had learned, as I
said previously on page 323, from an English painter, if he had been
willing to follow my advice. As soon as he arrived in Paris he came
to me asking for work; I gave him some things to execute for a few
months in order to allow him to live, for which he repaid me with
ingratitude by making a duplicate of a floral ornament of my design
which he offered, before delivering the block to me, to the person
for whom it was to be made. From the reproaches I received when the
matter was discovered, I refused, naturally, to employ him further.
Then he went the rounds of the printing houses in Paris, and was
forced to offer his work ready-made and without order, almost for
nothing, and many printers, profiting by his distress, supplied
themselves amply with his cuts. He had acquired a certain insipid
and limited taste, little above the mosaics on snuffboxes, similar
to other mediocre engravers, with which he surcharged his works. His
mosaics, however delicately engraved, are always lacking in effect,
and show the engraver’s patience and not his talent; for the
remainder of the cut has only delicate lines without tints or
gradations of light and shade, and lack the contrast necessary to
make a striking effect. Engravings of this sort, however deficient
in this regard, are admired by printers of vulgar taste who
foolishly believe that they closely resemble copper plate engraving,
and that they give better impressions than those of a picturesque
type having a greater variety of tints.
Jackson, having been forced by poverty to leave Paris, where he
could find nothing further to do, traveled in France; then,
disgusted with his art, he followed a painter to Rome, after which
he went to Venice, where, I am told, he married, and then returned
to England, his native country.
Whether or not Jackson was unethical he was certainly an active
competitor and many printers “supplied themselves amply with his cuts.”
He must have produced an enormous amount of work during his five years
in Paris because John Smith, in his _Printers Grammar_,[18] says that
Jackson’s cuts were used so widely and for so many years in Paris that
they replaced the fashion of using “flowers,” or typographical
ornaments, and that this style did not come into vogue again until the
cuts were completely worn down through use.
[Footnote 18: Smith, 1755, p. 136.]