IMPOSTURES IN ENGRAVING.
Fashion of decrying modern Artists--M. Picart asserts the Merit of
modern Engravers--Means employed by him to prove the Truth of his
Assertions--“The innocent Impostors”--Goltzius imitates perfectly
the Engravings of Albert Durer--Marc Antonio Raimondi is equally
successful--Excellent Imitation of Rembrandt’s Portrait of
Burgomaster Six--Modern Tricks played with respect to Engraved
Portraits--Sir Joshua Reynolds metamorphosed into “The Monster.”
About a century since, it was the fashion, among the would-be
pretenders in matters of taste, to decry the works, and depreciate
the talents, of the engravers of that time, in comparison with the
earlier artists. This induced M. Picart, an ingenious engraver, to
undertake the task of exposing the fallacious reasoning of these
_cognoscenti_, who asserted that they could easily distinguish the
works of the earlier painters, which had been engraved by themselves;
and, secondly, that, as an engraver could never attain the picturesque
style, they could easily distinguish whether an engraving was the work
of a painter, or of merely an engraver; and, thirdly, that the modern
engravers could not copy the paintings of the older masters so well as
the contemporary engraver.
In direct opposition to these frivolous conceits, M. Picart asserted
that the plates engraved by Signor Contarini, after Guido, were much
preferable to those incontestably engraved by Guido himself; and also,
that the works of Gerard Audran, an engraver by profession, were
touched with as much spirit as could possibly have been given by a
painter.
To put it to the test of experiment, however, Picart chose some designs
of the earlier painters, which had not been engraved, worked at them in
secret, stamped some of them on old paper, and dispersed them quietly;
and no one ventured to doubt but that they had been both engraved and
printed in Italy. Having by this artifice sufficiently disproved the
validity of those assertions which tended to depreciate the modern
engravers, M. Picart collected in one volume all the plates he had
so circulated, and they were afterwards published under the name of
“Picart’s innocent Impostors.”
Goltzius, a celebrated engraver of an earlier period, had recourse to
a somewhat similar artifice, to convince the world of the malevolent
detraction of certain rival artists, who, to humble Goltzius, were
accustomed to say that his works were not to be compared with those
of Albert Durer, or Lucas of Leyden. He, therefore, engraved the
Circumcision, after the manner of Albert Durer, stamped below with
his own name and mark; some impressions were taken off on old and
discoloured paper, and his name was burnt out, or otherwise effaced.
This plate went thus in masquerade to Rome, Venice, and Amsterdam, and
was received by all the amateurs and curious with astonishment and
pleasure, and was purchased at a very high price by those who esteemed
themselves too happy to have found an opportunity of possessing
themselves of an engraving by Albert Durer. Soon after, the same
plate appeared entire, and freshly stamped with the name and mark
of Goltzius; the connoisseurs were of course greatly confused and
extremely angry, and the malevolent jealousy of his rivals was exposed
to the world.
Marc Antonio Raimondi raised himself into notice in the following
manner: many engravings by Albert Durer were brought to Venice for
sale, and Raimondi was so much struck by the style and execution, that
he purchased them, and set to work to copy them, counterfeiting Albert
Durer’s mark, A. D. These copies appeared so similar, that they were
believed to be the genuine works of Albert, and, as such, were exposed
to sale, and became speedily purchased. This made Albert so indignant,
that he quitted Flanders, and came to Venice, to make a complaint
against Raimondi to the government; and he was forbidden in future to
make use of Albert’s name or mark.
The engraving of the Burgomaster Six, the patron of Rembrandt, was so
much valued, and so scarce, that Beringhen could not obtain it for any
money; and he, therefore, procured a copy of it to be made with a pen,
and afterwards washed with Indian ink, which was in the French king’s
cabinet at the time M. Gersaint wrote Rembrandt’s life, and was so
excellent an imitation, that it deceived several good judges.
The tricks of transmutation which are often played with copper-plate
engravings are well known. At the time when the person so justly
execrated and branded with the name of “The Monster,” made such a
noise, the dealer in one of the catchpenny accounts of his life
and adventures was very desirous of giving to the public some
representation of him. Not being able suddenly to procure one, it was
necessary for him to find a substitute. An old plate, which had been
engraved for a magazine, and intended to pass for a likeness of Sir
Joshua Reynolds, was luckily obtained, and was made to answer the
purpose. As the print bore no resemblance whatever to Sir Joshua,
and had, indeed, a most unprepossessing appearance, the original
inscription was erased, “The Monster” substituted, and it did very
well. In the ephemeral publications which daily issue from the press
similar metamorphoses are by no means uncommon.