original merit. He adopts in his work the style of certain early
Italian engravers. In his compositions he harks back to Dürer’s
imaginative genius. A little later Etienne Delaune appears, affecting
the elongated figures of contemporary Italians, while in his
graver-work one discerns a resemblance with the manner of the German
“little masters.” In etching a vital impulse is given to French work
about the middle of the sixteenth century. At that time Francis I
called Italian artists to France for the decoration of his castle of
Fontainebleau. Many of these Italian artists--Primaticcio, Fantuzzi,
and others--made use of etching occasionally in a hasty, sketchy style.
The sensuous charm of their lithe, long figures appealed to French
taste, and elicited a response in the plates etched by Jean Cousin,
for instance. In all this early production we feel the dominating
influence of Italian art, with an occasional echo of German thought or
German technique. France seeks her own language in the graphic arts,
and timidly ventures forth in an original manner of expression. This
diffidence is of brief duration, however, and by the end of the
seventeenth century we find her a leader in engraving, and by no means
in engraving only. As we enter upon this broad development, we must
cast a glance on two personalities of distinct originality, namely,
Jacques Callot and Claude Lorrain. Both are natives of Lorraine,
both are schooled in the art centers of Italy. Callot, endowed with
an impulsive, expressive style, full of personal qualities, vividly
describes in his plates the habits, customs, pleasures, the life, in
short, of France and Italy at his time. He peoples his plates with
multitudes of minute figures, with well-accented gestures. These
little figures are written down, as it were, with consummate skill;
they are expressive in their concerted action; in their grouping,
these peasants, soldiers, beggars, cripples, actors, courtiers, as
they troop across the scene, unfold a bird’s-eye view of the world
in the midst of which the artist lived. From the vast number of his
prints, let us select for illustration one of his views of old Paris,
with the Tour de Nesle prominent in the foreground. In his hundreds
of plates we see the miseries of warfare described as well as the
gayety of public festivities and the pomp of ceremonies of state which
he witnessed in Florence. Claude Lorrain, an originator and gifted
exponent of landscape, has occasionally taken up the etching-needle,
largely in an experimental spirit, modifying his technique at different
times, and showing himself, like other noted painters and occasional
etchers, infinitely more clever in the design than in the actual
etching. The plate chosen for illustration, called “Le Bouvier,” is
the most famous of his prints; in it we perceive (provided we see a
fine early impression) the rich tonal effect, the sense of airiness,
of space, the delightful composition, the knowledge of nature’s forms
and of atmospheric aspects, which appear far more markedly still in the
paintings of this master.
[Illustration: LE BOUVIER
Claude Lorrain]
The new awakening in French engraving in the seventeenth century
is especially notable in portrait engraving. Germany has lost its
leadership in the graphic arts; the great days of Italian engraving
are likewise over, though Italy continues a source of inspiration
to painters of all nations, she can add no vital, helpful impulse
to engraving. Such life-giving influences could only come from the
Netherlands, where the great tide of art is now at its height, where
painting _and_ the graphic arts have unfolded all their glory. Here
the etcher’s and the engraver’s technique, very highly developed, is
growing yet in perfection. What could be more natural than the powerful
stimulus exerted by such excellence on French engraving? Its greatest
triumphs coincide, in point of time, with the period of political
supremacy of France during the reign of Louis XIV. The “Grand Monarque”
infused grandeur into all the arts. The stately graver is the medium
aptly chosen for numerous portraits of the “roi soleil” himself. In
this period of teeming fertility in portraiture, we find an abundance
of likenesses of statesmen, generals, princes, nobles, of leaders in
art, science, literature, and of distinguished churchmen. One cannot
look through these prints without being struck by the prevalence, among
them, of an element of stately aloofness which removes these men and
women from the everyday sphere of life. They lack some of the freedom,
some of the lifelike appearance, which characterize the achievements of
the Netherlanders.
[Illustration: DUC DE GUISE
Claude Mellan]
In glancing through the ranks of the French engravers, we come
upon Claude Mellan, an artist-engraver of striking originality. He
departs from the beaten track of cross-hatching, and develops a
manner of shading which relies--for the rendering of shadows--solely
on the swelling line peculiar to graver-work. His technique is seen
in the portrait of the young Duc de Guise here reproduced. Lines
very lightly traced in the lighted portions, grow in strength and
swell proportionately to the depth of shadow to be expressed.
The direction of the line and its degree of heaviness are the means
of expression used by Mellan. The difficulties inherent in such a
technique are evident, and it is equally evident that the elimination
of cross-hatching is a heavy handicap to an engraver. Naturally enough,
Claude Mellan did not have any following to speak of among engravers.
[Illustration: ANTOINE VITRÉ
Jean Morin]
From this peculiar but fascinating artist, we pass on to another
engraver of marked individuality, Jean Morin, an excellent technician
who studied with profit the works of his Dutch and Flemish
predecessors. He combines etching and graver-work in his plates,
modeling the flesh exquisitely by means of minute stipple-like touches.
Among his best productions the portrait of Antoine Vitré stands forth
as a plate of great effectiveness and power, with rich, dark tones of
shadow and brilliant lights.
The school of Philippe de Champaigne, which disciplined the powers
of Morin, set upon his way the greatest of French portrait engravers,
Robert Nanteuil. A finished draughtsman, known by his pastel portraits,
and an engraver who carried the technique of the graver to perfection;
he knows how to blend delicacy and strength in plates like this
portrait of Pompone de Bellièvre. The longer one studies such a
print, the more one realizes the unerring faculty of this master in
the selection of line; each stroke fits the substance which it is
meant to express. The eloquence of the graver is a matter too subtle
for language, and far transcends the possibilities of reproduction,
however skillful; a half-hour spent with some good, early impressions
of Nanteuil prints will prove the truth of this assertion. Everything
is expressed there, and wondrously well expressed, yet one is quite
unconscious of any display of virtuosity. Nanteuil was too great an
artist not to subordinate the beauty of line, the marvelous finish
of elaborate detail, to the main consideration, namely, the beauty of a
well-balanced, well-harmonized _ensemble_. He was an artist-engraver in
the true sense of the word, since many of his finest plates have been
drawn from life, as well as engraved by him.
[Illustration: POMPONE DE BELLIÈVRE
Robert Nanteuil]
[Illustration: PHILIPPE DE CHAMPAIGNE
Gérard Edelinck]
It is usual, in reviews of this period of art, to find the name of the
noted Fleming, Gérard Edelinck, mentioned side by side with Nanteuil.
With a technique akin to that of the Rubens school, in long, easy
strokes, he models his figures and his draperies, and while he lacks
the creative originality of Nanteuil, working always after the designs
of other artists, his range of subjects is far more extended. In the
striking likeness of the painter Philippe de Champaigne, he has left
us a splendid example of his powers. His plate after the “Madonna of
Francis I,” by Raphael, is a model of interpretative engraving, and
when he undertakes to reproduce the canvases of Lebrun, he produces
prints admittedly more attractive and brilliant than the originals.
Another man whom we cannot afford to omit from even this hasty
enumeration is Antoine Masson, were it only for that superb
“gray-haired man,” the portrait of Guillaume de Brisacier, brilliant,
powerful, revealing an absolute mastery of the graver. The fact
is, that we are drifting now toward an ever-growing worship of
technique, at the expense of higher issues, artistically. Many names
claim our notice, as we continue our survey, and a few will not be
denied,--Gérard Audran, with his great series of the “Triumphs of
Alexander,” a series, which, for breadth and beauty of treatment,
assures him a place among the leaders, near Edelinck.
[Illustration: BOSSUET
Pierre Imbert Drevet]
As we glance at portrait engraving farther afield, there is at least
one name, among the notables of the eighteenth century, which demands
recognition here: Pierre Imbert Drevet, a member of that well-known
family of engravers. Perhaps his greatest title to fame is the
portrait--here shown--of Jacques Bénigne Bossuet, the prelate, writer,
and orator. Many regard this plate as the greatest engraving of the
century. In a manner typical of those pomp-loving times, the eminent
churchman is represented amidst columns and sweeping draperies. Here,
indeed, we have the last word of technical resourcefulness in expanses
of gorgeous silks and delicate laces, and many other textures and
substances. If one should feel that all this elaboration of the setting
distracts the attention from the portrait itself, he must blame the
epoch and the painter whose design the engraver needs must follow.
Now the reign of Louis XIV is over, and we come to the Regency, and
to Louis XV. Sensitive art, always the expression of the prevailing
attitude of mind, shifts to that well-known sphere of light-hearted,
trifling, idyllic, _galant_ subjects, a sphere which we naturally
connect with Watteau and Lancret, with Boucher and Greuze: subjects of
which the illustration “Champs Élysées,” after Watteau, by Tardieu,
is a fairly typical example. Playful shepherd scenes abound, dainty
figures masquerading as housekeepers, school-teachers, laundresses; or
else we have glimpses of the intimacy of the boudoir and chamber with
sensuous allusions more or less veiled. It is clear that such scenes
required a medium other than the serious, dignified form of engraving,
which we have seen heretofore. Such light, gay, piquant scenes demanded
a freer medium of expression; also they required the merry touch of
light, joyous coloring.
[Illustration: CHAMPS ÉLYSÉES
Nicolas Henri Tardieu]
In response to these demands, Gilles Demarteau perfected a process
admirably suited to rendering the effect of sketchy crayon drawing.
Leprince devised the process known as “aquatint,” by means of which
the washes of water-color or sepia might be closely imitated upon the
copper. Both these media came into frequent use, and often a brown
ink was used in the printing, being deemed more appropriate to the
subjects than the usual black, or the copper plate was painted with
colors for each impression, a lengthy and delicate operation, and these
color-prints--not to be confounded with prints colored by hand--are
prized by many amateurs. A word here on these color-prints: LeBlon
evolved a cumbersome method of three-color printing, engraving one
plate for each color; often a fourth plate was added, as a foundation
for the other three. The other method, mentioned above, was generally
adopted, quite a number of engravers devoting themselves to this
color-work.
Now again temptation spreads out a world of enticing themes for
discussion, which we must pass by: ornaments, elaborate decorations
of theses, emblems, armorial designs, calendars. Even the teeming
field of book decoration must not keep us long, entrancing though it
be as a field for specializing study. It has already been remarked
that in this field, formerly held by woodcut, the intaglio processes
had assumed a monopoly. Artists of great repute were called upon for
designs to ornament the elegant volumes offered to literary amateurs.
The character of the illustration and ornamentation was dictated, not
so much by the contents of the books as by the predilections of the
buying public. A very high degree of technical efficiency prevailed
among the engravers who busied themselves with illustrations for
literary productions; they entered so thoroughly into the spirit of the
designs that their own individual characteristics are hard to discern
in the mass of light, dainty embellishments of the printed page. The
fine harmony which blends together type and ornamentation in the books
of that period, would be well worth imitation in our own advanced
days. The subjects are amorous for the most part, as well befits a
time when Venus ruled in French society. If you glance through the
illustrated editions of the “Fables,” or the “Baisers” of Dorat, the
“Temple de Gnide” of Montesquieu, the “Henriade” of Voltaire, the
“Contes nouveaux” of Marmontel, or the “Chansons” of Delaborde, you
will find there the best efforts of such masters of illustration as
Eisen, Choffard, Gravelot, Moreau, and others, who struck the note
demanded by the social _élite_ of their day. They idealize a hollow,
shamming society, which they carry into fairyland by an art true in
its rendering of a play-acting world. The dimpled, rosy Venus, the
shepherdess of well-rounded, shapely figure,--these ideals of beauty
are not Greek, nor of the great Renaissance period. Such divinities are
found in Versailles gardens; their prototypes are Jeanne Dubarry and
her like, the ladies of the court, the beauties of the stage; and for
this reason French art of the eighteenth century is genuine and true,
because it does not seek its ideals in the dim past, but chooses them
in contemporary life.
As we follow engraving, it declines from a spontaneous exercise of
the thinking, artistic mind into drudgery of systematized routine.
Engraving becomes petrified into a thing of tradition, with elaborate
systems of lines and dots, to be dutifully acquired during long years
of apprenticeship. Originality is frowned down by rigid precept,
selection is made subservient to accepted prescription. In this
so-called “classical” style of engraving, Georg Wille moves at ease,
among the most perplexing technical intricacies. A virtuoso, and a
purist, Wille deems the burin the one and only admissible tool of an
engraver. The careful detail, the minutely finished paintings of Gérard
Dou, Mieris, or Netscher give play to his powers. The plate reproduced
here is the famous “Satin Gown” after Terborch, so called because of
the wonderful rendering of the girl’s dress, with its silvery sheen and
glossy shadows. The lighting of the scene, the modeling of forms,
the translation of color-values into terms of black and white, have
all received careful consideration, nor do we feel in the work of this
leader the cold metallic hardness and monotony which often wearies in
the immense output of the classical engravers. The names of Bervic,
excellent but slow and excessively systematic, Boucher Desnoyers, the
brilliant technician, come to mind among Frenchmen. Italy, however,
became the real home of classical engraving, and names such as Longhi,
Raphael Morghen, Toschi, with their large plates, chiefly dealing with
religious subjects, must be familiar to any amateur of prints. Their
fame, the great favor which they enjoyed with the art-loving public
for a while, brought pupils from all parts of Europe to these Italian
leaders.
[Illustration: INSTRUCTION PATERNELLE (The “Satin Gown”)
Georg Wille]
In France the triumphs which painter-etching achieved in the
Netherlands had but a faint echo: Callot and Claude Lorrain have
already been mentioned. Painters like Lebrun or Largillière left the
graphic arts to the engravers; they viewed their skillful translations
of painting into black and white as the work of colleagues,
not craftsmen. We have noted the influence of Watteau on the
“etcher-engravers”; he himself handled the etching-point at times, in a
few sketchy plates; Boucher, Fragonard, and others dabbled in etching
a little, nothing more. Jean Jacques de Boissieu and Jean Pierre
Norblin, the latter an enthusiastic student of Rembrandt’s perplexing
technique, should be mentioned as leading exponents of etching before
the great nineteenth-century revival to which we shall presently turn.
Now we must leave France, with the classical engravers at the helm,
their formula spreading far and wide and with the vignettists busy on
their portrayal of French society at the end of the _ancien régime_.
As Watteau had shown us the customs of the grandfathers, at the
beginning of the century, so Saint-Aubin, Eisen, Moreau, and other
clever artists show us the life of the grandchildren: a society bound
up in the pursuit of pleasure, blindly rushing on toward exile or the
guillotine of the French Revolution.
[Illustration: PLATE FROM THE CAPRICHOS
Francisco Goya]
Before proceeding to English prints, let us glance at the one prominent
figure in Spanish etching: Francisco Goya. A painter-etcher of intense
feeling, fiery, impulsive, he feels acutely the evils under which his
country is groaning. In an art largely allusive and bitterly satirical,
he conjures before us an abyss of human wretchedness, greed, and
misrule in those strange “Caprichos” from which an illustration has
been selected. In other series he shows with the same graphic power
the hazards of the bull-fight, and again the fearful consequences of
warfare. Filled with his thought, he compels the copper to express the
intensity of his conception. His medium is whatever will convey the
message, usually an etched outline, modeled into with aquatint in a
bold sketchy manner. His few, rare lithographs have the same powerful
characteristics, and it is this energy of expression which makes his
prints distinctive and desirable.
VIII
ENGLAND
In point of time England is last, among European countries, in
bringing forth any important manifestation in the realm of prints.
During the early centuries of engraving the artistic demands of the
country were supplied by foreigners. In the seventeenth century Wenzel
Hollar accompanied the Earl of Arundel to England, and the name of
this prolific etcher is, without a doubt, the most important for that
period. Among his 2750 plates are landscapes, views, portraits, plates
of costumes and events of the day, allegories, and what-not: all done
with the skill of the practiced etcher, though not exalted by the
master-touch of genius. Other foreign-born engravers are not lacking;
among native Britons, Faithorne, Robert White, and George Vertue are
the most noted. A portrait by William Faithorne gives an idea of
early English work. It cannot offer anything new, relying as it does
on the art of the Continent for every artistic impulse; imitative, not
yet creative. Even well-known men of the eighteenth century--Robert
Strange, William Sharp, and William Woollett, with his large ideal
landscapes--hark back to the teachings of the Continent and follow
in the beaten track. One personality stands out prominently in this
period, a man with a message delivered by means of his prints, the
painter-engraver William Hogarth, who, like Goya, uses the needle
and graver as a medium for a powerful crusade against the social
evils of his day. These he castigates with biting satire and forceful
preachment. His might be called a literary art, with the stress laid on
the moral theme, not on technical perfection.
[Illustration: CATHARINE OF BRAGANZA
William Faithorne]
[Illustration: THE HON. MISS BINGHAM
Francesco Bartolozzi]
Among the foreign talent Francesco Bartolozzi is preëminent as a
stipple engraver in England. He is the foremost interpreter of the
dainty compositions of Angelica Kauffmann and of Cipriani. Our
illustration, “The Hon. Miss Bingham,” after Sir Joshua Reynolds,
shows the Italian engraver at his best. The whole plate is a mass of
minute dots which form the lines and the tones of the portrait. An
adaptation, in a more minute grain, of the French crayon-manner, the
English stipple lends itself admirably to the smooth blendings and soft
modeling of the sweet allegorical plates, which Bartolozzi produced
with indefatigable industry. Stipple prints quickly gained the favor
not only of the British public, but also held sway for a while on
the Continent. The process was eminently suited, and often used, for
color-printing, or for slight suggestions of color introduced in the
printing, to add to their charm.
The medium most particularly fostered in England is mezzotint
engraving; originary from Germany, it found in the island kingdom a
happy soil for its speedy growth. When Lely, Kneller, Gainsborough,
Reynolds, and all that famous group of painters gave to the world
their magnificent array of portraits, there existed no school of line
engravers in England, no group of masterly engravers or etchers such
as those of the Netherlands or of France. The field, therefore, was
clear for mezzotint, and it seems as though no other process could have
more adequately interpreted the achievements of the great portraitists.
Their prevalent breadth of treatment, devoid of small, niggling
detail, their numerous women’s portraits, with soft, rounded forms,
subtle transitions of tone, sparkling accents of light and blending
depths of shadow, were admirably suited to the “black art.” Hence the
rise, during the eighteenth century, of a large school of mezzotint
engravers, who attained great perfection in their chosen medium,
progressing from prints of a sooty, black appearance to plates of
clear, fine texture, like the portrait of Mrs. Carnac here reproduced,
an engraving by John Raphael Smith. One is apt, quite naturally, to
accord to engravings like this the credit due to the painter for his
graceful composition. Quite aside, however, from matters of composition
and beauty of subject, the mere charm of intense shadow and brilliant
high light, with transitions of breath-like delicacy, rendered with the
velvety richness peculiar to mezzotint, will readily explain the vogue
and costliness of such prints. No half-tone reproduction, however good,
can convey an idea of the texture of mezzotinting. An examination of
good, early impressions of mezzotint portraits by such men as McArdell,
Watson, Ward, Green, Reynolds, or other notables of the scraper, will
prove their merits much more convincingly than words.
[Illustration: MRS. CARNAC
John Raphael Smith]
While portraiture is the field _par excellence_ of mezzotint
achievement, other possibilities of the process are evidenced by plates
like the flower and fruit piece here shown, in which Richard Earlom
proves himself a gifted interpreter of Huysum. The varied surfaces,
the delicate bloom on the fruit, and all those little touches dear to
the Dutch painter--sparkling dewdrops, insects, the velvety underside
of an overturned leaf--are faithfully reproduced. We almost seem to see
the actual colors of the painting, so carefully have the values been
gauged. In no other process could the painting have been transcribed
more pleasingly. The mention of Earlom as the engraver of a large
series of landscape plates, the “Liber Veritatis,” after sketches by
Claude Lorrain, leads us to J. M. W. Turner, to whom these plates
suggested the well-known “Liber Studiorum,” but of this more in our
review of the nineteenth century.
[Illustration: FLOWER AND FRUIT PIECE
Richard Earlom]
In the matter of woodcut, little need be said in this brief outline,
aside from Jackson’s _chiaroscuros_, until we come to Thomas Bewick
and with him to an important revival of the relief process in modified
form. Bewick recognized the possibilities of the wood block, if cut
across the grain, instead of plank wise as used for the old woodcut.
The plank block necessitates the use of the knife; a cross-grain
block of boxwood on the other hand, permits the use of that king of
instruments, the graver. Wood-engraving once established by Bewick, and
elaborated by his followers, rapidly spread over Europe, ultimately to
reach its highest form of technical perfection in the United States.
IX
THE UNITED STATES
In early days, the American colonies were indifferent if not
inhospitable to the fine arts. Only portraiture and expressions of
patriotism found a welcome, both in painting and engraving. These,
with some maps, diagrams, and views, gave partial employment to a few
engravers, with such additions to their number as landed from time to
time from Europe for a sojourn more or less prolonged. Prominent among
early arrivals was Peter Pelham, an artist of good abilities, who
portrayed in mezzotint a number of New England ministers.
[Illustration: THOMAS JEFFERSON
David Edwin]
Passing on to the Washington period, we find in Charles Willson Peale
an American painter-engraver of merit. Such mezzotint portraits as
General and Lady Washington, Lafayette, Franklin, and others easily
rank among the best native productions of that period. David Edwin,
an immigrant from England, brought proficiency in stipple engraving.
His merits can be judged from the best of his plates, the portrait of
Thomas Jefferson, appropriately simple and dignified in execution.
With the advancing nineteenth century, engraving becomes plentiful in
this country. Publishers require many portraits, views, subjects of
all kinds, nor must we forget the important and flourishing branch of
bank-note engraving. This teeming activity brings with it a commercial
sameness of execution, a workmanlike, metallic sleekness, not quite
absent even in the charming vignettes of John Cheney, which adorn the
gift-books of the forties and fifties. A portrait of Chief Justice
Marshall, engraved by Asher Brown Durand, after Inman’s painting, is
shown as an illustration of good nineteenth-century work. Generally
speaking, portrait engraving had fallen into a rut, suggested by the
tonality of photographs, a development shared by wood-engraving.
[Illustration: CHIEF JUSTICE MARSHALL
Asher Brown Durand]