Bartolozzi has been called the Achilles of eighteenth-century

engraving, and certainly his productiveness and his influence were on

quite an heroic scale; nor was the vulnerable heel wanting to complete

the simile. This was his spendthrift love of epicurean living, which

gradually dulled his artistic conscience until it made no attempt to

distinguish between the demands of art and a commercial popularity.

Luxurious in his habits, free with his hospitality, generous to a fault

with his purse, he looked with a satisfied eye on the ever-expanding

market for the coloured stipple-print, which practically he had

created, or, at least, auspicated with beautiful offerings. And as he

saw that the public would now accept almost anything tendered to it in

the name of a colour-print, however meretricious the design or poor

the engraving, he seems to have sacrificed artistic scruples to the

constant need of money-making. If his purse was a sieve, the popular

craze for colour prints must keep on filling it. So Bartolozzi, the

great and famous engraver, whose sure draughtsmanship had long been

as a leaning-staff to the printsellers and many an artist, actually

encouraged vain but incompetent amateurs, several of them quite

pleasant ladies with pretty ideas, to make feeble, mawkish designs,

which perhaps he would correct in drawing, before giving them to often

half-fledged engravers, and turning them upon the market in poorly,

hurriedly stippled plates, specious in coloured inks.

As his best pupils, Tomkins, Cheesman, Schiavonetti, Ogborne, Marcuard,

left him, and set up as independent engravers, Bartolozzi’s studio,

with its innumerable workers, gradually developed into little more

than a factory for turning out popular prints as rapidly as possible.

This hurry for the market seems, however, to have affected not only

Bartolozzi and his engravers, but the printselling world generally.

The art critic of the “Monthly Mirror” for 1796, while blaming the

printsellers as the cause, protested against the “slovenly and

imperfect manner” in which so many prints were being turned out,

declaring, moreover, that this was influencing the painters to an

indifference about the execution of such works as were intended for

prints, making them “contented to satisfy the print or bookseller with

the mere effect of light and shade.”

Earlier than this, however, Sir Robert Strange, who hated Bartolozzi,

and for whom line-engraving alone represented the dignity of the

engraver’s art, had predicted a sort of artistic _débâcle_ through the

popularity of stipple-engraving. “From the nature of the operation,”

he wrote, “and the extreme facility with which it is executed, it has

got into the hands of every boy, of every printseller in town, of every

manufacturer of prints, however ignorant and unskilful. I call them

manufacturers, because the general run of such productions does not

in reality merit the appellation of works of art and must ultimately

tend to depreciate the fine arts in general, to glut the public, and

to vitiate the growing taste of the nation. This art, if to it may be

called, is in itself extremely limited, admits of little variety, and

is susceptible of no improvement.” Naturally, the great line-engraver,

who had worked for his fame through long arduous years, was vexed

to see the very effects of soft flesh tones, which he produced to

admiration with laborious mastery of point and graver, rendered so

easily by stipple, and even more popularly appreciated. Yet there was a

good deal of truth in his protest. The public was in time glutted, not

with finely engraved colour-prints, but with inferior stippling of weak

designs, much of it crudely coloured by hand, or printed with no sense

of art; but the fine arts in general were not in the least depreciated

through such things.

And now the charming little art has, at its old-time best, found

enthusiastic lovers again, while the noble beauty of line-engraving

is to-day appreciated by only the limited few. “If Strange could but

re-visit the glimpses of Christie’s, it would more than astonish

him to see there none of his own superb line-engravings after the

great Italian masters, but to hear the keen bidding for his old

rival Bartolozzi’s best colour-prints after Reynolds, or the Downman

_Duchess of Devonshire_ and _Lady Duncannon_, the Cipriani infants,

_Contentment_, _Friendship_, the Hamilton _Months_, or Miss Benwell’s

_St. James’s_ and _St. Giles’s Beauties_, or the _Orange Girl_.

Not a little surprised would Strange be if also he could hear how the

modern collector values the work of Bartolozzi’s most distinguished

pupils in that same art which he in his day regarded so contemptuously.

Of these, Peltro William Tomkins was Bartolozzi’s own favourite. “He

is my son in the art,” said the master, always generous with praise

of good work; “he can do all I can in this way, and I hope he will do

more.” Tomkins inherited the graphic tendency from his father, William

Tomkins, A.R.A., a landscape painter; but, of course, it was from

Bartolozzi he learnt the sweetness and grace of draughtsmanship which

distinguish his copper-plates, whether in the engraving of his own

pretty fanciful designs of children, such as _He Sleeps_, _Innocent

Play_, _The Wanton Trick_, or the pictures of other artists. His

close-grained stippling, too, had that same soft and tender rotundity

of tone we find in the authentic works of the master, and of course it

was peculiarly adaptable to the simple tints of the eighteenth-century

colour-printer. A few of Tomkins’s most attractive prints will be

found among the illustrations to this volume, others I have named in

speaking of the painters. The extent of his work was enormous, and it

always had charm; so the collector can choose many appealing things

without exhausting the list of Tomkins’s capital prints. Engraver to

the Queen and drawing-master to the Princesses, he seems to have been a

favourite with the lady artists and amateurs, whose drawings frequently

employed his graver, such as Julia Conyers, Princess Elizabeth, Lady

Templetown, Lady Edward Bentinck, Miss Drax, and, of course, they

all demanded colour as a sort of prescriptive right. Among his more

serious work were some good plates after the old masters, as those in

Tresham’s “British Gallery of Pictures,” rather brilliant in colour.

_On a Virgin and Child and St. John_, after Raphael, engraved and

published by Tomkins at Fulham in 1789, I find “Printed in colour by C.

Floquet,” which suggests an amicable understanding between engraver and

printer; for the colourist was rarely credited with his share in the

old colour-prints.

Thomas Cheesman’s engravings have at their best the free and easy

charm of the artist accustomed to express his own conceptions. In his

youth he lodged with Hogarth’s widow, through whose influence he was

entrusted with the engraving of _The Last Stake_. The work must have

been a liberal education. Stippling, strengthened with etching, he

learnt from Bartolozzi, and how he excelled in it may be seen in such

charming prints as Romney’s _Spinster_ and _Seamstress_, Angelica

Kauffman’s _Marchioness of Townshend and Chila (Love and Beauty)_,

Reynolds’s _Reverie_, his own _Maternal Affection_, and others of

his graceful designs. Robert S. Marcuard was another of Bartolozzi’s

best pupils, and his fine engraving of his master’s portrait, after

Reynolds, has a richness of tone and distinction of character rarely

seen in stipple-plates, but found also in Marcuard’s transcripts of

others among Reynolds’s male portraits. He appears to have strengthened

his stippling of shadows with etching to a more than usual extent, a

practice suggested, perhaps, by his work in mezzotint.

Several noteworthy prints by Charles Knight have already been named.

He was quite a valuable engraver of remarkable industry, and so

studiously did he assimilate the Bartolozzi methods, while lacking only

the master’s inimitable delicacy, that he could be trusted to execute

important plates which needed but Bartolozzi’s own finishing touches

to make them worthy of his name. These the master would unhesitatingly

sign for publication, as in the case of the famous _Miss Farren_ after

Lawrence. The brilliant etching, with all the preliminary work, was

Knight’s; yet it is known as Bartolozzi’s print. But to the various

acknowledged prints of Knight’s already mentioned one may add, as good

examples in colours, _Cupid Disarmed_, and _Cupid’s Revenge_ after Miss

Benwell, and _The Valentine_ and _The Wedding Ring_ after Ansell.

John Ogborne and William Nutter learnt line-engraving from that

interesting engraver and valuable antiquarian, Joseph Strutt, a pupil

himself of Ryland; then they went to Bartolozzi to acquire the stipple

method, through which they both achieved distinction, Nutter adding

to Bartolozzi’s teaching the broader influence of J. R. Smith’s.

John Keyse Sherwin’s natural gifts were influenced to an easy grace

in Bartolozzi’s studio, and we owe to him a few charming stipples in

colour; but his brief and brilliant career, ruined by vanity, dandyism,

and fashionable favour, belongs to the story of line-engraving,

in which it fills a lively and interesting page. Another talented

individuality among the group of Bartolozzi’s disciples was Edmund

Scott, who did some very engaging stipples in colour, of which a few

have been named. His work was much favoured by the popular painters.

Naturally Bartolozzi’s European reputation, and rumours of the rapidity

with which money could be made by the stipple method, attracted to

his studio a number of pupils from the Continent, where, till the war

began in 1793, there was a very large and constant trade in English

prints. Several fine collections, by the way, were made at the time,

and some of these are still intact, notably one in Weimar. Among the

foreign pupils were, of course, several Italians, of whom the most

important were Luigi Schiavonetti and Giovanni Vendramini, whose names

are familiar chiefly through their charming plates in the _Cries of

London_ series. Schiavonetti, however, was brilliant also in etching

and line-work, and not less artistic than his stipples were his

engravings of Blake’s beautiful illustrations to Blair’s poem, _The

Grave_. Vendramini was personally so popular that he was induced to

take over Bartolozzi’s business and his house at North End, Fulham,

when the old man in 1802, seeing the waning of the public taste for his

prints, accepted a royal invitation to Portugal, where they gave him a

knighthood and a pension, and where he went on engraving and teaching

till, close on ninety years of age and in straitened circumstances,

he died in 1815. James Minasi, an engraver of taste, I have already

mentioned as one of Bartolozzi’s favourite pupils, devoted to the end.

His cousin, Mariano Bovi was another, and a very artistic touch he

had, as may be seen in his many engravings of Lady Diana Beauclerc’s

fantastic infantile groups, and the charming decorative frieze after

Cipriani, reproduced here. Other notable Italian disciples were

Pietro Bettelini and Michel Benedetti. Russia, which was always ready

at that time to encourage the prolonged visits of English artists,

sent Bartolozzi an assimilative pupil in Gabriel Scorodoomoff, who

did several pretty colour-prints. Of the French pupils, John Peter

Simon had perhaps the most artistic sense of the medium, and he will

always be esteemed for his brilliant engraving of Reynolds’s _Heads of

Angels_--a beautiful print in colours. Jean Marie Delattre, when once

he had learnt stipple, became the master’s right-hand man, “forwarding”

many of his plates to a considerable extent, touching up and correcting

the work of less competent pupils, and turning out a number of

good prints of his own. Other Frenchmen there were, too, among the

stipple-engravers who, though not actually pupils of Bartolozzi, could

not help reflecting his influence. Chief among these were Thomas

Gaugain, F. D. Soiron, and B. Duterreau, all of whom are represented

among our illustrations by charming prints after Morland. Gaugain began

his artistic life as a student of painting with Richard Houston, the

eminent mezzotint-engraver, and this training seems to have lent a

valuable quality of tone to his engraving. The last and rarest plate of

the _Cries of London--Turnips and Carrots_--was his.

John Condé was an ideal engraver of Cosway’s miniatures, which he

rendered with a touch of the utmost refinement and taste, and an

exquisite sense of their adaptabilities to the copper. Scarcely less

successful in this field was Schiavonetti’s gifted Flemish pupil,

Anthony Cardon, and it was doubtless through his master’s influence

that he, too, was engaged upon the _Cries of London_.

But the Bartolozzi influence was not quite supreme. No engraver, for

instance, used the stipple method with more originality or more truly

pictorial effect than John Jones, who was, of course, one of the

glories of the great English school of mezzotint. At his best only to

be compared for beauty with Burke, his was a broader conception of the

delicate medium; and, gauging its artistic capacity to a nicety, he

understood exactly how to balance breadth and depth of tone with the

fine shades, while avoiding that tendency to monotony of smoothness

which characterised even the best of the Bartolozzi school. His manner

was quite his own, strong in its refined simplicity, artistic in its

reticence, and among the most beautiful and individual colour-prints

in stipple, few are comparable with those that Jones did after Romney,

Reynolds and Downman. His exquisite _Serena_ was one of the prints

we had hoped to have included among our illustrations. Scarcely less

distinctive in stipple than Jones, J. R. Smith and William Ward, was

that other great artist in mezzotint, Thomas Watson, whose stippling

had the large pictorial feeling. Naturally he was happy with Reynolds,

as in the lovely _Una_, while in the _Mrs. Crewe_ and _Mrs. Wilbraham_,

he made the very best of Daniel Gardner, who appears to have learnt all

he could from Sir Joshua.

Of the stipple-engravers who made pretty and attractive colour-prints

their name is legion, while these pages are necessarily limited. So

I must regretfully leave but barely named such notable stipplers as

Joseph Collyer, with his vigorous touch; Francis Hayward, whose _Mrs.

Siddons as the “Tragic Muse”_ is so well known; William Bond; the

versatile Robert Pollard; R. M. Meadows; the dainty John S. Agar; those

three fine mezzotinters, Charles Turner, Richard Earlom, and William

Dickinson, whose _Duchess of Devonshire and Viscountess Duncannon_ has

often the high distinction of pairing with Burke’s _Lady Rushout and

Daughter_; the brothers Facius; Caroline Watson, with her exquisite

finish whether in pure stipple or in “mixed” methods; Joseph Grozer;

Christian Josi, to whom we are indebted for more than his engraving,

in his valuable publication of Ploos Van Amstel’s interesting second

pioneering series of aquatints printed in colour, _Collection

d’Imitations des Dessins_, twenty-three years after Van Amstel’s

death; John Eginton; Charles White, a favourite engraver of the lady

artists; James Hogg, whose _Handmaid_ after Walton is as charming as

its companion, _The Tobacco Box_; Robert Thew; R. M. Paye; and William

Blake, whose sure immortality is quite independent of such artistic

stippling as his _Mrs. Q._ after Huet Villiers, and his two Morland

prints.

The war with France, closing important markets for English engravings,

had a depressing influence on the production of prints, and the early

years of the nineteenth century saw fresh vagaries in the popular

taste. Even the Morlands were neglected. The coarse political and

social caricatures of James Gillray--once Bartolozzi’s pupil--and

of Thomas Rowlandson were intriguing and titillating the town with

their robustious humours and audacious licence. Yet Adam Buck was

strangely in favour; his inadequate drawings of babies and slender

women in Empire gowns, which a contemporary writer describes as

“happily combining the taste of the antique with that of the modern,”

suited the spurious classic fashion of the time. These were engraved,

some partly stippled, partly aquatinted, by Freeman, J. C. Stadler,

Roberts and even Cheesman. Artistically negligible, the excellence

of their colour-printing alone can excuse any demand at the present

day for such pretty-pretty trifles as _The Darling Asleep_, _The

Darling Awake_, _The Darling Dancing_, and so on. In their own day,

notwithstanding their passing vogue, they sounded the knell of the

stippled colour-print.

Coloured aquatints were now becoming the rage. That this charming and

delicate process, producing various gradations of tone by successive

“bitings” with acid through a porous, resinous ground, might long

before have competed with stipple, may be judged by the delightful

pair of colour-printed aquatints, _Courtship_ and _Matrimony_, by

Francis Jukes after W. Williams, published in 1787 by J. R. Smith.

But, invented in France about 1750 by Jean Baptiste Prince, practised

a little later with colour by Ploos Van Amstel, and introduced to

England in 1775 by Paul Sandby for the treatment of landscape, it was a

long while before the pictorial capacities of aquatint were adequately

understood and extended. In the artistic hands of the Daniells, the

Havells, J. C. Stadler, J. Bluck, J. Sutherland and F. C. Lewis, it

became, particularly under the ægis of Ackermann, a most popular

medium for colour, especially in the sporting and coaching prints

which the Regency spirit brought so extensively into demand. Then in

turn came lithography, with its ease of method and its sweet, soft

graces, bringing colour too; and R. J. Lane was the new hero of the

printsellers, while for long years Bartolozzi and his brother stipplers

on the copper-plate were shelved, neglected, forgotten, and Morland

prints were scarcely saleable. To-day they have come into their own

again--their own, and perhaps a little bit over.

NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS.

COUNTESS OF HARRINGTON AND HER CHILDREN (Plate I.). Sir Joshua painted

her twice also as Miss Fleming.--ROBINETTA (Plate II.). The Hon. Anna

Tollemache was the original of this picture, of which Reynolds painted

three versions: that in the National Gallery, Lord Lonsdale’s, and Lord

Tollemache’s, from which Jones made his engraving, dedicating it to the

picture’s then owner the Hon. William Tollemache.--MASTER HENRY HOARE

(Plate III.). The only son of Sir Richard Colt Hoare, Bart., F.R.S.,

the well-known antiquarian and historian of Wiltshire.--DUCHESS OF

DEVONSHIRE AND CHILD (Plate IV.). One of Sir Joshua Reynolds’s thirteen

exhibits in the Royal Academy of 1786, when Walpole depreciated

it. Here is the famous duchess in that tender mother-mood in which

Coleridge apostrophised her so exquisitely. The chubby baby, when

she grew up, very properly married the son and heir of that Earl of

Carlisle who in graceful verse had championed her mother’s introduction

of the fashion of feathers.--THE MASK (Plate V.). Part of the “Duke

of Marlborough and family,” which Sir Joshua painted in 1777. The

little Ladies Charlotte and Anne Spencer, being taken into the room at

Blenheim where Sir Joshua sat at his easel, the youngest drew back,

clutching at her nurse’s gown, crying “I won’t be painted!” a natural

action which appealed irresistibly to Reynolds. And little Lady Anne,

as Countess of Shaftesbury, lived until 1865, the last survivor of all

Sir Joshua Reynolds’s countless sitters.

BACCHANTE (Emma, Lady Hamilton) (Plate VI.). Painted in 1784 for

Sir William Hamilton, when, of course, there was no thought of the

marriage. The price was 50 guineas, just about a fifth of what a

brilliant impression of the print in colours would fetch to-day.

The Hon. Charles Greville, Sir William’s nephew and Emma’s lover at

the time, seems to have negotiated the business, for he wrote, in

October 1784 to his uncle, who was then in Naples: “Let me know how

the _Bacchante_ is to be paid. The dog was ugly, and I made him paint

it again.” Later Greville wrote: “Emma’s picture shall be sent by the

first ship. I wish Romney yet to mend the dog.” The picture is said to

have been lost at sea, on its way back from Naples, but at Greville’s

sale in 1810, the _Bacchante_--in that case a replica of the lost

canvas--was catalogued as “Diana, original of the well-known engraved

picture,” and bought by Mr. Chamberlayne for 130 guineas.--MRS. JORDAN

IN THE CHARACTER OF “THE COUNTRY GIRL” (Plate VII.). It was as Peggy in

Garrick’s comedy “The Country Girl,” adapted from Wycherly’s “Country

Wife,” that Dorothy Jordan first appeared at Drury Lane in 1785,

and immediately bewitched the public with the natural, irresistible

joyousness of her acting and the lovable charm of her personality. In

the following year she gave Romney thirteen sittings for this picture.

At the first he could not satisfy himself as to the best pose for

her. After many tries she pretended to be tired of the business, and,

jumping up from her chair, in the hoydenish manner and tone of Peggy,

she said, “Well, I’m a-going.” “Stay!” cried Romney; “that’s just what

I want.” And at once he began to sketch her for this picture. It was

bought in 1791 for 70 guineas by the Duke of Clarence, afterwards King

William IV., and thereby, of course, hangs the well-known tale of a

twenty years’ love, ten children, and unhappy separation. The print,

first published as _The Romp_ at 5s., may now fetch, if fine in colour,

like Major Coates’s copy, as much as £200.--HOBBINOL AND GANDERETTA

(Plate VIII.). William Somerville’s “Hobbinol” was a mock-heroic poem

on rural games, which Mr. Gosse describes as “ridiculous.”--COUNTESS

OF OXFORD (Plate IX.). This is in the National Gallery; but Hoppner

exhibited an earlier portrait in 1797. Jane Scott, daughter of a

Hampshire vicar, married, in her twentieth year, the fifth Earl of

Oxford, whom Byron described as “equally contemptible in mind and

body”; but then, she and the poet were lovers when she was forty and

he about twenty-five. “The autumn of a beauty like hers is preferable

to the spring in others,” he said in after years. “I never felt a

stronger passion, which,” he did not forget to add, “she returned

with equal ardour.” It was on Lady Oxford’s notepaper that Byron

wrote his final letter to Lady Caroline Lamb, and this in the very

year in which, it now appears, he revived his boyish passion for Mary

Chaworth.--VISCOUNTESS ANDOVER (Plate X.). Eldest daughter of William

Coke, of Holkham, the famous agriculturist, so long M.P. for Norfolk,

and later Earl of Leicester.

Old English colour prints · 第 4 / 5 段