The method of stipple was meanwhile slowly dying out, but, as often happens when some particular art seems about to expire, this was the very time when the capabilities of the style were shown in the highest perfection. William Walker, born in Musselburgh in the year 1791, served an apprenticeship to three engravers, Mitchell, Stewart, and Thomas Woolnoth, and choosing stipple as his method of interpretation, in his portraits of Sir Walter Scott, Raeburn, and the Earl of Hopetoun, justified his choice by executing the finest works that were ever accomplished in the style. He astonished the mezzotinters of the period—who told him that, do what he could, he would never make stipple equal mezzotint in colour[66]—by the amount of force, colour, and effect which he was able to give to these plates. It is needless to say that such work as this could only be accomplished at the expense of intense energy and persevering labour, qualities which were the essential characteristics of the Scotch engraver. Later on, when settled in London, and more particularly after the introduction of steel in place of copper, Walker chiefly practised mezzotint, in which, however, he made use of his previous experience, etching his subject first in stipple before laying the mezzotint ground. His plate of Burns, engraved in mezzotint by himself and Mr. Cousins, owes a great part of its renown to Walker's power of rendering likeness; in regard to this, the painter Alexander Nasmyth remarked, on seeing the finished print, "that all he could say was that it seemed to him a better likeness of the poet than his own picture." This particular quality of fidelity in likeness Walker carried out in all his after historical works; for this purpose no trouble was too much, no labour too severe; the engraving of the "Distinguished Men of Science assembled at the Royal Institution in 1807ndash;8," which occupied a period of six years of unceasing research and labour, is a striking instance. This was practically his last plate. He died at the age of seventy-six, in the year 1867, at his house in Margaret Street, Cavendish Square, and was buried at Brompton Cemetery.

The death of Reynolds in 1835 seems to mark roughly the closing period of English engraving as a great art; two of his most renowned pupils were, however, still in the fulness of power, David Lucas and the present Mr. Samuel Cousins, R.A.[67] Of Mr. Cousins, it is sufficient to relate that Reynolds, happening one day to be in the town of Exeter, saw some drawings in a shop window which caught his eye, and on going inside he learnt that they were by a lad of the name of Cousins, which incident led to Reynolds taking the youth to London and keeping him as his apprentice. Mr. Cousins' artistic genius, steady perseverance, and sterling integrity in all that he undertook, brought their full results, as shown in the fine series of mezzotint engravings so widely known and highly appreciated, and his name may indeed be said to close worthily the long line of great British mezzotinters.

David Lucas was born in the year 1802, and had the good fortune to meet in early life with Constable, between whom and Lucas was formed that intimate connection of painter and engraver which in earlier times had led to such great results. Failing Reynolds, Constable had applied to Lucas to be his engraver, and between them was completed the beautiful mezzotint series of English landscape; Constable bore the expense and was ever in counsel with the engraver, going into the minutest details, thinking no trouble too much to produce a good result, down to the printing of the plates, which they often did themselves, Lucas having had a press erected at his house for the purpose. The execution of this series led to Lucas undertaking the large plate of "The Cornfield" at his own risk, and afterwards the companion picture of "The Lock"—referred to before—finally culminating in his production of the superb engraving of Salisbury Cathedral as seen from the meadows, to which Constable himself gave the name of "The Rainbow."[68] During all this period constant intercourse and correspondence took place between the painter and engraver. At one time, Constable writes, "Although much admired, Salisbury is still too heavy; the sentiment of the picture is that of solemnity not gaiety, yet it must be bright, clear, alive, fresh, and all the front seen." At another, "The bow is a grand whole, provided it is clear and tender; how I wish I could scratch and tear away with your tools on the steel, but I can't do it, and your quiet way is I know the best and only way." At length comes, "Dear Lucas, the print is a noble and beautiful thing entirely improved and entirely made perfect; the bow is noble, it is startling, unique." So hand-in-hand they worked on, the painter upbearing his helpmate the engraver, each aiding the other, little noticed by the public at the time, but slowly building up an imperishable fame. David Lucas died in 1881 in his eightieth year.

In the middle of the century, inartistic mixture of styles, mechanical means replacing true work, exigencies of copyright, and above all the complete severance of the engraver not only from the painter but also from his only rightful patron the public, had worked its sure result. Some good men survived, such as Lewis, Atkinson, Doo, Robinson, J. H. Watt, R. Graves, J. Posselwhite, Lumb Stocks, Henry Cousins[69] W. Giller, J. R. Jackson, and a few others; but no young school had been forming to replace those dying out, and everything presaged the gradual extinction of engraving as one of the great arts. Has this lowest point been reached? Perhaps, as with the beautiful art of miniature painting, which for a time on the advent of photography seemed gone for ever, yet still like some stream was only running on in hidden course underground to appear again and reach daylight, so may it happen with engraving.

Within the last few years two engravers have produced prints worthy of any period of the art, the late C. H. Jeens and the present Mr. W. H. Sherborne. Some of the stipple miniature book illustrations which Jeens executed for Messrs. Macmillan and others, such as the gem medallions of Plato and Socrates, "Love and Death," Woolner's "Beautiful Lady," the portraits of Allan Ramsay, Charles Young, Mr. Ruskin's two Aunts, and above all William Blake, are engraved with the tender feeling and fine touch of the true artist. Mr. Sherborne, born in 1832, probably little known except by the few, originally a chaser and designer for jewellers and pupil of Pietro Gerometti, the Roman cameo engraver and medallist, in 1872, fired by hope and love of the art, forsook his own branch to follow that of engraving. Like all true artists, his mode of execution is his own. Apollo, exhibited at the Royal Academy, 1881, the head of Mr. Seymour Haden, the portraits of Phelps the Chelsea Waterman or Mrs. James Builth, and the interiors of Westminster Abbey, seen at the Painter-Etchers' Exhibition in the summer of 1885, are works that will last, and are good examples of the engraver's powers, causing regret that Mr. Sherborne had not earlier turned his attention to an art the beauty of which he so truly feels. While engraving as a whole was decaying, one branch, that of etching, has been undergoing a revival, and the names of Mr. Seymour Haden, Mr. Philip Hamerton, and Mr. Whistler are world-known. They and their school have confined themselves to producing their own designs, while others, like Mr. David Law, Mr. Macbeth, and the Messrs. Slocombe, also translate the works of painters. But, whether as a vehicle for conveying an original design or translating that of another artist, etching is strictly limited in its powers; it bears the same relation to the full art of engraving as sketching or drawing does to that of perfect painting; suggestive, capable of exhibiting broad effects of light and shade, or indicative of the idiosyncrasy of the etcher, it is, of its very nature, incomplete, and acts but as herald to proclaim the greater results to be obtained by following out the art to its proper goal.

The great impetus which Bewick's genius gave to the art of wood engraving at the commencement of the present century was carried onwards by his distinguished pupils Luke Clennell, Charlton Nesbitt, and William Harvey, the latter of whom, in 1821, cut the large block of the death of Dentatus (15 in. × 11¼ in.) from the picture of the erratic genius B. R. Haydon, under whom he was at that time studying drawing. Robert Branston, John Thompson and his brother Charles[70] Jackson, and W. J. Linton, are names of equal renown; in fact, during the first half of the century, England may be said to have been supreme in the art. Gradually, however, the various mechanical processes for facilitating the commercial extension of the art such as electrotyping[71] photography, &c., brought here, too, their deteriorating effects, causing the engraver to become less of an artist and more of a mechanic. In delicacy of work and elaboration of detail, American artists now stand first among wood engravers; but they attempt too much with the means at their command, and try to produce upon the comparatively soft material, wood, the delicate fineness of line which can only be realised in perfection on metal. The extreme closeness of the lines, combined with the exigencies of rapid surface printing, dull more or less the minute interstices which ought to show pure white; effect is lost, and, notwithstanding the excellence of the workmanship, the result becomes monotonous and wearying rather than pleasurable to the satiated eye. In etching also America takes high rank; in addition to Mr. Whistler, the names of Messrs. J. Gadsby Chapman, Gifford, Duveneck, F. S. Church, Pennell, Stephen Parrish, and Mr. and Mrs. Moran, are well known in Europe.

In the complete styles of engraving, stipple, line, and mezzotint, although American engravers are little known out of their own country—a large enough field, however, in which to exercise their talents—some good work has also been done; in stipple, by David Edwin, Ion. B. Forrest, Gimbrede, and C. Tiebout; in mezzotint, by Charles Wilson Peale, A. H. Ritchie, and John Sartain, who, after having worked under the direction of William Young Ottley, went from London to America in 1830 at the age of twenty-two; and in line, by Asher Brown Durand; Joseph Andrews; the Smillies; and Charles Burt, who is said to have been the actual engraver of the fine plate of Leonardo's "Last Supper," copied from Morghen's print of the same subject, and bearing the name of A. L. Dick as engraver. The lives of these and others not mentioned were often eventful and picturesque, and would repay study. Some leaving England, Scotland, or Ireland in early life to settle in the land of their adoption, had to struggle with difficulties, often teach themselves, make their own tools, like John Cheney, or like Charles Wilson Peale, turn their hands to whatever duty might present itself. Peale was a captain of volunteers, dentist, lecturer on natural history, saddler, watchmaker, silversmith, painter in oil, crayons, or in miniature on ivory, modeller in clay and wax, engraver in mezzotint, and to crown all, as his son was wont to say, a mild, benevolent, and good man. Many also devoted their talents to bank-note engraving, a branch of the art highly cultivated in the United States, in which the skill of the inventor and mechanic has been united with the grace and genius of the artist. As engravers in this particular style may be specially mentioned W. E. Marshall, J. W. Casilear, M. J. Danforth, Gideon Fairman, and Jacob Perkins, the latter of whom, with Fairman and the ingenious Asa Spencer, came over to England in 1818 to compete for the premium of £20,000 offered by the Bank of England for a bank-note which could not be counterfeited. Although not successful, the Bank allowed them the sum of £5,000 in consideration of their ingenuity and the trouble and expense which they had incurred in the matter. While Asa Spencer is to be credited with inventing the method of applying the geometric lathe[72] to engraving the involved patterns on banknotes, Perkins has the honour of introducing the process of transfer by means of steel rollers. The portrait or other design is engraved in the usual manner on a die plate, which is then hardened; a soft steel roller or cylinder is now rolled over the die with great pressure by means of a powerful machine, causing the cylinder to take off in its course the impression of the design in relief; this roller is now hardened in its turn, and by the use of similar means made to impress another soft steel die; by repeating this process, any requisite number of plates can thus be reproduced the exact fac-similes of the original engraved die plate. Owing to the mechanical necessity that only a small surface of the roller should press on the die at a given moment, the diameter of the cylinder requires to be small, so that several of these dies, and consequently of the rollers, will be required to complete the entire plate from which the ultimate printing of the note is effected.

Finally it may be well to conclude this brief account of the British school of engraving by calling attention to the considerations which ought to govern buyers of engravings; buy only that which gives real personal satisfaction, distrust a seller's inducements, in price be ruled by the amount that can be justly afforded, reject alluring thoughts of future money gain (or be prepared to pay the sure penalty—destruction of natural artistic feeling and hope of further cultivation), and ever bear in mind the words of Constable to his engraver: "Tone, tone, my dear Lucas, is the most seductive and inviting quality a picture or print can possess; it is the first thing seen, and like a flower, invites to the examination of the plant itself."[73]

*****

*** The writer of the Chapter on English Engraving desires to acknowledge the facilities kindly placed at his disposal by Mr. Sidney Colvin, Keeper of Prints and Drawings at the British Museum, and to express his recognition of the valuable aid afforded him by Mr. F. M. O'Donoghue, of the same department.