woodcuts, more broadly executed than the typical French products,
outlasted all others of the 1725-30 period. They were consistently
re-used, and appeared, as far as they can be traced, well into the
1780’s.[19]
[Footnote 19: See cuts in _Dissertatiumeula quodlibetariis
disputationibus_ of C. L. Berthollet, Paris, 1780, and _Voyage
littéraire de la Grèce_, of de Guys, 1783.]
Elsewhere in the _Traité_, however, Papillon has a good word for
Jackson’s abilities:[20]
Jackson, of whom I have already spoken, also engraved in
chiaroscuro; I have a little landscape by him which is very nicely
done.
[Footnote 20: P. 415. This may be the print formerly in Dresden
but lost during the war.]
It was inevitable that Papillon and Jackson should clash. The
Frenchman’s notion of woodcutting was influenced, as we have seen, by
copper plate engraving; he wanted, by incredible minuteness of cutting,
to achieve approximately the same results. This was in keeping with the
delicate French _rocaille_ tradition on which Papillon was nurtured; to
him any other contemporary style of book decoration was evidence of bad
taste. Jackson, on his part, felt that this approach violated the
essentially broad, vigorous nature of the woodcut and, in addition, made
excessive demands on the printer. Since this impoverished beginner, and
an Englishman at that, refused to take his earnest advice or to fall
into the prevailing style, Papillon was enraged. After all, Jackson was
working as an employee. But Papillon was not entirely blind. In a number
of places in the _Traité_ he made reference to other woodcutters who
were working in Jackson’s style, and he recorded some of the works the
Englishman illustrated during his five years in Paris.
[Illustration:
Headpiece by J. M. Papillon for his _Traité historique et pratique
de la gravure en bois_, Paris, 1766, vol. 3. This is an example of
Papillon’s minute style, against which Jackson rebelled.
Actual size.]
Jackson’s blossoming out as a maker of wallpaper after his return to
England and his brash claims in this connection in the _Essay_, must
also have irked Papillon, who knew the field as an expert; his father in
1688 had set up the first large printing house in France for wall
hangings, and after his death in 1723 Papillon had inherited it. In
1740, he sold the business to the widow Langlois, but he had run the
shop during Jackson’s residence in Paris and his former employee no
doubt had learned a great deal by observing its operation. Yet here more
than twenty years later was the upstart Englishman again, venturing into
wallpaper manufacturing with an air of moral superiority, attacking all
other products as unworthy. Jackson’s ridiculing of the Chinese style
must have been particularly galling since Papillon and his father had
specialized in producing such papers. These were much better than
comparable English work, but Jackson, confining himself to English
products, had attacked the whole style without making distinctions.
According to the _Enquiry_ (pages 32-55 of this book will be drawn upon
for the ensuing details of Jackson’s career), M. Annison, Director of
the Imprimerie Royale, for whom Jackson produced many cuts, introduced
him to Count de Caylus, collector, connoisseur, etcher, and the leading
spirit in French engraving at the time. De Caylus had, in 1725,
undertaken to direct the reproduction of drawings and paintings in the
best French collections.[21] Pierre Crozat, the famous collector,
sponsored the publication of this ambitious work.
[Footnote 21: _Recueil d’estampes d’après les plus beaux tableaux
et d’après les plus beaux dessins qui sont en France dans le
cabinet du Roy, dans celui de M. le Duc d’Orléans et dans d’autres
cabinets, divisé suivant les différentes écoles._ Paris, 1729-42,
2 vols., 182 plates. Often called the _Cabinet Crozat_, it was
reprinted by Basan in 1763 with aquatint tones by François
Charpentier replacing the woodblock tints.]
The drawings were reproduced in chiaroscuro while the paintings were
rendered in black-and-white by a corps of engravers. The chiaroscuros
were made by combining an etched outline, usually by de Caylus or
P. P. A. Robert, with superimposed tones, mainly in green or buff, from
one or two woodblocks cut in most cases by Nicolas Le Sueur, or under
his direction. This was not a new printing method. Hubert (not Hendrick)
Goltzius had first employed it in a set of Roman emperors after antique
medallions in 1557.[22] To reproduce drawings by Raphael, Parmigianino,
and himself, Abraham Bloemart, as well as Frederick and Cornelius
Bloemart in the early 1600’s, had used this combination extensively, and
as described earlier, p. 11, Kirkall had used it between 1722 and
1724.[23] The combination method produced rather feeble prints that
lacked the vigor of straight woodblock chiaroscuro. The etched outline
was thin and ineffective, and the tints were pallid so as not to
overpower the drawing. Only Abraham Bloemart’s prints in this style were
convincing, although Kirkall’s chiaroscuros, in their soft, over-modeled
way, had individuality. But the _Cabinet Crozat_ lacked distinction
entirely. The chiaroscuros had a mechanical look, a fact not surprising
when we remember that they were produced by a team of engravers--
assembled, as it were, from several hands working in different media.
The best prints were a few chiaroscuros made entirely from woodblocks by
Nicolas Le Sueur, although these were also rather tepid, no doubt to
harmonize with the rest of the work.
[Footnote 22: _Imperatorum imagines_, Antwerp, 1557. The
woodblocks were cut by Josse Geitleugen.]
[Footnote 23: In the _Enquiry_ (p. 31) Jackson asserts that
Kirkall’s tints were made from copper plates, not woodblocks.]
Jackson tells us that he worked on some tint blocks, first from a
drawing by Giulio Romano and later from a drawing by Raphael, _Christ
Giving the Keys to St. Peter_, the original _modello_ for one of the
famous tapestry cartoons. Count de Caylus, he says, liked the work and
wanted to employ him further on the project, but Crozat rejected him
flatly. De Caylus, according to Jackson, was embarrassed and distressed
and offered recompense for the lost time and labor, but Jackson, not to
be outdone in generosity by a nobleman, refused, explaining that the
honor of knowing the Count and receiving his approbation more than made
up for his lost effort.
Vincent Le Sueur objected to the combination method and withdrew early
from the project. Possibly Jackson, who also disliked this method and
was not known for his discretion, was considered by Crozat to be a
disruptive element. Possibly his style of cutting was not retiring
enough for Crozat’s tasteful French notion of chiaroscuro. This project,
in any case, aroused the Englishman’s interest in the process. _Christ
Giving the Keys to St. Peter_, after Raphael, made about 1727, was
probably Jackson’s first chiaroscuro woodcut. No doubt he produced it on
his own and offered it as a plate for the publication, perhaps at the
time he was commissioned to cut the tint blocks to be used in
combination with de Caylus’ etching of this subject.
With both Papillon and the powerful Crozat against him, Jackson was
finished in Paris. De Caylus urged him to go to Italy. Accordingly, in
April 1730, he left Paris in the company of John Lewis, an English
painter, and set out for Rome, where he expected to continue his studies
in drawing and deepen his knowledge of art.
Jackson’s style was still being formed during his Paris period. Confined
for the most part to initial letters, headbands, and tailpieces, his
work differed from contemporary French cuts only in its technical
handling, which was firmer and broader. Little of a more creative nature
came his way, and the Paris stay therefore served as a useful interim
during which he became adept in his craft. The necessity for keeping
himself alive by cutting on wood developed his powers of invention and
his facility: he became a remarkably rapid and skillful cutter. Jackson
gathered strength in Paris, but it was in Venice that he really came to
maturity as an artist.
[Illustration:
TAILPIECE in _Histoire générale de Languedoc_, by Claude Vic and
J. J. Vaissete, Paris, 1730, vol. 1. Note the even tone and clean
cutting compared with Papillon’s light-and-dark contrasts and
dainty cutting.
Actual size.]
_Venice: The Heroic Effort_
After leaving Paris, Jackson and Lewis journeyed to Marseilles, where
Jackson became seriously ill and remained for six months, while Lewis
continued to Genoa. Regaining his health, Jackson went on to Genoa and
then to Leghorn, Pisa, and Lucca, arriving in Florence in January 1731.
There, during a stay of several months, he discussed with the Grand Duke
of Tuscany a reprinting of Vasari’s _Lives of the Painters_. Jackson was
to make cuts for the headpieces, but the project was eventually dropped,
and he continued to Bologna, where he remained a month chiefly in the
company of the woodcutter G. M. Moretti, who showed him some original
blocks cut by Ugo da Carpi for printing in chiaroscuro. He then
proceeded to Venice, arriving “three Days before the Feast of the
Ascension in 1731, and was highly surprized to find no one Engraver on
Wood capable to do such poor Work, he has seen at Bolonia.” Jackson was
amply supplied with strong recommendations from Florence, and on showing
his work to leading printers was urged to settle in Venice, where a fine
woodcutter capable of both designing and executing cuts was urgently
needed. Here he also met Count Antonio Maria Zanetti, who was well-known
as a chiaroscuro woodcutter besides being a collector and patron of the
arts. Their first meeting is described in the _Enquiry_:
... very soon after his [Jackson’s] Arrival he had an Interview with
Signior _Antonio Maria Zannetti_; from the Accounts he had heard
from Mr. _Marriette_ in _France_ of this Man’s Work in _Chiaro
Oscuro_, he expected to see some wonderful Performance, but
_Parturiunt montes nascetur ridiculus mus_ is a most applicable
Proverb on this Occasion. I who have perused this grand Raccolta of
_Zannetti’s_, must acknowledge that they are a trifling Performance,
inferior to any Attempts of this Kind in our Times; and indeed it is
no Wonder, when we come to know that this Man never used a Press,
nor so much as a Hand Roll to print his Works with. Our Countryman
says he had room to suspect he neither did cut or print these Works,
which was confirmed by the poor Men who performed both. But such was
the Vanity of this Author, that he told the Public in his
Dedications that he was the Restorer of that lost Art, whereas he
only drawed them on the Blocks, which might have been done as well
by those that cut and printed them. At this first Interview the low
Cunning of this Man was discovered....[24]
[Footnote 24: Zanetti certainly cut many of his own blocks, as the
prints with the signature “A. M. Zanetti, sculp.” attest. But he
also made use of craftsmen in the traditional fashion for other
blocks and for the mechanical phase of printing.]
Jackson undoubtedly disliked Zanetti’s soft and delicate treatment, so
characteristic of 18th-century work, and considered his interpretation
of Parmigianino and Raphael little short of sacrilege. Since Jackson was
incapable of hiding his feelings a quarrel became inevitable. The first
rift came when Zanetti let Jackson have for a few weeks a drawing by
Parmigianino, the _Venus and Cupid with a Bow_, to be executed in four
blocks. The print was done “intirely in _Hugo’s_ [da Carpi’s] manner,
with this Difference, that no _Oscuro_ block has a Contour to resemble
the original Drawing it was done from, which is seldom seen in _Hugo’s_
works....” Zanetti, surprised by the fine quality of the first proof,
proposed to pass it off on Mariette in Paris as an original da Carpi
print. He even stained it and cut holes in it to give the impression of
aged worm-eaten paper. At the same time Jackson executed another
chiaroscuro, also based on a Parmigianino drawing, the _Woman Standing
Holding Jar on her Head_. Zanetti, says the _Enquiry_--
... caressed the Author with the highest Expressions of Zeal for his
Service, protesting he would communicate his Capacity to his
Correspondents all over _Europe_, which would be the Means to
advance his Fortune, especially amongst the _English_ Quality and
Gentry who travelled _Italy_. The intent of all those fine Promises
was to get the two Sets of Blocks into his Hands, which he expected
as a Present for the Use of the two original Drawings, from which
these Prints were taken; but this not being complyed with, the
_Restaurati_ expressed a Resentment at this Refusal, and took all
the Opportunities to distress the Undertakings of any Sort performed
by Mr. _Jackson_, during fourteen Years Residence in _Venice_.
Zanetti was charged, in some obscure way, with obstructing Jackson’s
work in cutting 136 blocks for the _Istoria del Testamento Vecchio e
Nuovo_, popularly known as the _Bibbia del Nicolosi_,[25] published by
G. B. Albrizzi in 1737. We are informed that Filippo Farsetti, one of
Jackson’s patrons, paid him for the whole set of cuts after rebuking
Zanetti for interference.
[Footnote 25: These cuts were also used for the _Biblia Sacra_,
published by Hertz in Venice in 1740.]
The Englishman evidently was kept well occupied with preparing cuts for
printers, among them Baglioni and Pezzana. For the latter he made 24
woodcuts for a quarto edition of a _Biblia Sacra_ and an unspecified
number of ornaments for a folio edition. Jackson was given a free hand
to conceive and carry out the cuts as he pleased.
While working on these prints he began--
to consider on his favourite Work in _Chiaro Oscuro_, and by
intervals examined what he had projected at _Paris_. He began first
to make experiments with Tints, and having proved that Four
Impressions could produce Ten positive Tints, besides _Tratti_ and
_Lights_; he resolved to try a large Piece from _Rubens’s_ Judgment
of _Solomon_, with an intent to prove what could be done with the
Efforts of a Type Press before he launched into greater Expences
with another Machine.
He wanted this press in his home, where he could experiment as he
pleased without tying up workmen or equipment in Pezzana’s shop. It
might have been professional delicacy that prompted him to ask Pezzana’s
permission to have a private press built, or it might have been a bid
for patronage from the generous and influential printer. In any event,
Pezzana responded by having his carpenters build and install the press
at his own expense. To avoid official registrations or craft suspicions,
he had it registered as his own. The trial proofs of _The Judgment of
Solomon_, printed from four blocks, pleased Jackson in every regard
except vigor of impression. Unfortunately no edition was published,
despite the dedication to Filippo Farsetti.
Finished in 1735, this woodcut was probably the first to translate a
painting in a full range of tones. From the purely technical standpoint
it was an incredible achievement. Jackson created a vivid approximation
of a large and complex painting and at the same time produced a vigorous
woodcut. From four superimposed woodblocks, with almost no linework, he
was able to capture the full-blooded forms of Rubens. By keeping his
means simple Jackson asserted the importance of his cutting and
printing, the expressiveness of his drawing, and the fluidity of his
tones. Obviously such a procedure required major decisions as to what to
omit and what to stress; in other words it required interpretive
abilities of a high order.
Evidently Jackson believed that his new chiaroscuro method required
heavier pressure than the platen press was capable of. (On the usual
wooden screw press the size of the platen never exceeded 13 by 19
inches, because the impressions made with a larger platen would not have
been strong enough; for prints larger than the platen, the bed was moved
and the platen pulled down twice.) He had the press returned to Pezzana
and set out to build a more suitable printing machine.
He found there were other means to be employed beside a Type Press,
and having examined the Theory of his Invention put it in Practice,
by erecting a Rolling Press of another Construction than what is
used for printing Copper Plates.
[Illustration:
ILLUSTRATION in _Biblia Sacra_ published by Hertz, Venice, 1740,
vol. 1. Originally cut by Jackson for Albrizzi’s _Istoria del
Testamento Vecchio e Nuovo_, Venice, 1737.
Actual size.]
In Paris Jackson had suggested using a cylinder press for printing wood
blocks. The gentlemen to whom the suggestion was made, Count de Caylus,
Coypel, and Mariette, were sure that the enormous pressure would split
the blocks. The Englishman, on the contrary, felt that the pressure,
properly controlled by a chase, would hold the blocks together. Printing
would be much more rapid and the exceptional vigor of the impression
would suggest a hand drawing. The use of cylinder presses for
chiaroscuro printing was already well known to experts. George Lallemand
and Ludolph Businck, sometime between 1623 and 1640, had used not one
but a series of six cylinders on three joined presses, with three
printers simultaneously inking separate blocks with different tones.
Impressions were then printed from each block in succession.
Papillon[26] described this press, and also another with a special chase
designed at an unspecified date by Nicolas Le Sueur. Jackson’s prints
show a much stronger impression than those of Businck or Le Sueur. No
details of his press are known, although Thomas Bewick[27] reported that
Jackson as an old man had shown him a drawing of its construction.
[Footnote 26: Papillon, vol. 2, 1766, pp. 372-373.]
[Footnote 27: Bewick, 1925, p. 213.]
[Illustration:
Illustration for Albrizzi’s _Istoria_, in which it was cut No. 136.
From Hertz’s _Biblia Sacra_, vol. 1.
Actual size.]
The cylinder press of Jackson’s design was finished in 1735 and paid for
by the income from prolonged sieges of work for printing offices. But
the overwork and resulting exhaustion laid him low; a serious illness
followed and for several months he was close to death. When he
eventually regained his health he found that his cuts for Baglioni and
Pezzana had been copied and mutilated by an engraver at Ancona. This
pirate was encouraged by the head of a large printing establishment
newly founded in Venice, who thereupon offered Jackson work at greatly
reduced prices. He refused the offer. With hack woodcutters now stealing
both his designs and his manner of cutting, and working at a far lower
rate than he could afford, he found that the market for his higher
priced work had almost entirely disappeared. He still received
occasional commissions, among others the title page to a translation of
Suetonius’ _Lives of the Twelve Caesars_, printed by Piacentini in
Venice in 1738. His splendid design, which shows considerable burin
work, is at odds with the crudity of the remainder of the book. Inferior
hands reproduced in woodcut outline Hubert Goltzius’ medallion portraits
of Roman emperors, originally executed in chiaroscuro (see p. 22).
Stimulated, no doubt, by the combination of chiaroscuro and antiquity,
Jackson produced a portrait of Julius Caesar in four tones of brown
after Egidius Sadeler’s engraving of a subsequently lost painting
attributed to Titian. This was not the only time Jackson translated a
line engraving and added chiaroscuro modeling of his own. He did not
make line-for-line copies. Jackson was interested in broad effects even
when leaning heavily on the delicate linear conventions of line
engraving. The lines, therefore, are firm and widely spaced, like
photographically enlarged details of copper-plate work. Apparently
Jackson felt that the addition of one or two tones from wood blocks
would supply the intermediate tints and at the same time would prevent
the line system from becoming obtrusive.
The decided influence of line engraving was probably the result of his
association in 1731 with G. A. Faldoni in Venice. Influenced by Claude
Mellan, this engraver made use of swelling parallel lines to create
tonal gradations. Jackson had first become interested in this technical
method through Ecman’s woodcuts after Callot, and once Faldoni had
strengthened the attraction he found kindred influences in the
engravings of Villamena and Alberti, particularly the former, from whom
he also acquired design ideas he later put to use in his wallpapers.
Jackson’s discovery that he could to some extent use copper-plate
techniques was not a reversion to the style of the Parisian group of Le
Clerc copyists. Jackson used the line system as a means for creating
forms in conjunction with tones; the Parisian woodcutters used it to
imitate the delicate quality of line engraving. He had a formal
aesthetic end in view; their purpose was to render realistic details in
a decorative framework.
With opportunities for book illustration gone, Jackson was in a
difficult position. His novel chiaroscuro experiments had consumed
valuable time and had lost him his standing as a steady worker for
printers. Near destitution and scouting around for fresh applications of
the woodcut, he decided to make prints for wallpaper on his new press.
It was a logical step for Jackson, not only because he knew something of
the process but also because he could make use of the chiaroscuro blocks
already prepared. Late in 1737 or early in 1738 he had his first samples
ready and sent them to Robert Dunbar in London, together with his
conditions for carrying on the trade in Venice. Negotiations dragged,
and Dunbar died before they could come to terms, but the idea of using
his skill and his machine for turning out wallpaper continued to occupy
his mind as a possibility. But, for the time, the undertaking had to be
laid aside while Jackson looked for more immediate means of employment.
At this juncture Joseph Smith befriended him. A merchant of long
standing in Venice, who became the British consul there in 1745, Smith
was a bibliophile, gem collector, and connoisseur of the arts. In spite
of Walpole’s sneering reference to him as “the merchant of Venice,” it
must be said that he was expert in his fields of interest. He had
excellent taste. His fine collection of books was purchased by George
III in 1765, and the small Rembrandt _Descent from the Cross_ once in
his possession is now in the National Gallery in London.
From Smith’s bronze statuette of Neptune, by Giovanni da Bologna,
Jackson produced a chiaroscuro print in four blocks, in imitation, he
asserted, of the prints of Andrea Andreani.[28] In suggesting the
influence of this master, Jackson did not refer to his technique or
style but to his subject: in 1584-1585 Andreani had produced a
chiaroscuro series after other statues by Giovanni da Bologna (B. XII,
VI, 1-4).
[Footnote 28: The _Neptune_ was printed on a type press. One of
the blocks split in printing and Jackson stated that thereafter he
used the cylinder press exclusively.]
The next work in Smith’s collection to be reproduced in chiaroscuro was
Rembrandt’s _Descent from the Cross_. Jackson was evidently well
satisfied with the results, and with good reason. It is an extremely
effective print, with pale yellow lights and transparent shadows. The
drawing is remarkable in its feeling for the Rembrandtesque style. The
sky and other parts show English white-line burin work of the type found
in Mattaire’s _Latin Classics_ and Croxall’s _Aesop’s Fables_. The
_Enquiry_ says (p. 45):