Prints: A Brief Review of Their Technique and History

by Emil H. Richter

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.

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.