FIG. PAGE
[1].—From “Epistole di San Hieronymo Volgare.” Ferrara, 1497. (Initial letter) [13]
[2].—St. Christopher, 1423. From Ottley’s “Inquiry into the Origin and Early History of Engraving upon Copper and in Wood”[22]
[3].—The Crucifixion. From the Manuscript “Book of Devotion.” 1445[24]
[4].—From the “Epistole di San Hieronymo.” 1497. (Initial letter)[30]
[5].—Elijah Raiseth the Widow’s Son (1 K. xvii.). The Raising of Lazarus (Jno. xi.). Elisha Raiseth the Widow’s Son (2 K. iv.). From the original in the possession of Professor Norton, of Cambridge[34]
[6].—The Creation of Eve. From the fac-simile of Berjeau[35]
[7].—Initial letter. Source unknown[45]
[8].—The Grief of Hannah. From the Cologne Bible, 1470-’75[49]
[9].—Illustration of Exodus I. From the Cologne Bible, 1470-’75[51]
[10].—The Fifth Day of Creation. From Schedel’s “Liber Chronicarum.” Nuremberg, 1493[54]
[11].—The Dancing Deaths. From Schedel’s “Liber Chronicarum.” Nuremberg, 1493[56]
[12].—Jews Sacrificing a Christian Child. From Schedel’s “Liber Chronicarum.” Nuremberg, 1493[58]
[13].—Marginal Border. From Kerver’s “Psalterium Virginis Mariæ.” 1509[61]
[14].—From Ovid’s “Metamorphoses.” Venice, 1518 (design, 1497). (Initial letter)[65]
[15].—The Creation. From the “Fasciculus Temporum.” Venice, 1484[68]
[16].—Leviathan. From the “Ortus Sanitatis.” Venice, 1511[68]
[17].—The Stork. From the “Ortus Sanitatis.” Venice, 1511[69]
[18].—View of Venice. From the “Fasciculus Temporum.” Venice, 1484[69]
[19].—The Contest of Apollo and Pan. From Ovid’s “Metamorphoses.” Venice, 1518 (design, 1497)[70]
[20].—Sirens. From the “Ortus Sanitatis.” Venice, 1511[71]
[21].—Pygmy and Cranes. From the “Ortus Sanitatis.” Venice, 1511[72]
[22].—The Woman and the Thief. From “Æsop’s Fables.” Venice, 1491 (design, 1481)[73]
[23].—The Crow and the Peacock. From “Æsop’s Fables.” Venice, 1491 (design, 1481)[75]
[24].—The Peace of God. From “Epistole di San Hieronymo Volgare.” Ferrara, 1497[76]
[25].—Mary and the Risen Lord. From “Epistole di San Hieronymo Volgare.” Ferrara, 1497[77]
[26].—St. Baruch. From the “Catalogus Sanctorum.” Venice, 1506[77]
[27].—Poliphilo by the Stream. From the “Hypnerotomachia Poliphili.” Venice, 1499[78]
[28].—Poliphilo and the Nymphs. From the “Hypnerotomachia Poliphili.” Venice, 1499[79]
[29].—Ornament. From the “Hypnerotomachia Poliphili.” Venice, 1499[80]
[30].—Poliphilo meets Polia. From the “Hypnerotomachia Poliphili.” Venice, 1499[81]
[31].—Nero Fiddling. From the Ovid of 1510. Venice[82]
[32].—The Physician. From the “Fasciculus Medicinæ.” Venice, 1500[83]
[33].—Hero and Leander. From the Ovid of 1515. Venice[85]
[34].—Dante and Beatrice. From the Dante of 1520. Venice[86]
[35].—St. Jerome Commending the Hermit’s Life. From “Epistole di San Hieronymo.” Ferrara, 1497[86]
[36].—St. Francis and the Beggar. From the “Catalogus Sanctorum.” Venice, 1506[87]
[37].—The Translation of St. Nicolas. From the “Catalogus Sanctorum.” Venice, 1506[87]
[38].—Romoaldus, the Abbot. From the “Catalogus Sanctorum.” Venice, 1506[88]
[39].—From an Italian Alphabet of the 16th Century. (Initial letter)[90]
[40].—St. John and the Virgin. Vignette to Dürer’s “Apocalypse”[93]
[41].—Christ Suffering. Vignette to Dürer’s “Larger Passion”[94]
[42].—Christ Mocked. Vignette to Dürer’s “Smaller Passion”[95]
[43].—The Descent into Hell. From Dürer’s “Smaller Passion”[96]
[44].—The Herald. From “The Triumph of Maximilian”[100]
[45].—Tablet. From “The Triumph of Maximilian”[101]
[46].—The Car of the Musicians. From “The Triumph of Maximilian”[102]
[47].—Three Horsemen. From “The Triumph of Maximilian”[103]
[48].—Horseman. From “The Triumph of Maximilian”[107]
[49].—Virgin and Child. From a print by Hans Sebald Behaim.[113]
[50].—From the “Epistole di San Hieronymo.” Ferrara, 1497. (Initial letter)[116]
[51].—The Nun. From Holbein’s “Images de la Mort.” Lyons, 1547[123]
[52].—The Preacher. From Holbein’s “Images de la Mort.” Lyons, 1547[124]
[53].—The Ploughman. From Holbein’s “Images de la Mort.” Lyons, 1547[125]
[54].—Nathan Rebuking David. From Holbein’s “Icones Historiarum Veteris Testamenti.” Lyons, 1547[130]
[55].—From “Opera Vergiliana,” printed by Sacon. Lyons, 1517. (Initial letter)[135]
[56].—St. Christopher. From a Venetian print[142]
[57].—St. Sebastian and St. Francis. Portion of a print by Andreani after Titian[143]
[58].—The Annunciation. From a print by Francesco da Nanto[144]
[59].—Milo of Crotona. From a print by Boldrini after Titian[145]
[60].—From the “Comedia di Danthe.” Venice, 1536. (Initial letter)[151]
[61].—The Peacock. From Bewick’s “British Birds”[156]
[62].—The Frightened Mother. From Bewick’s “British Quadrupeds”[157]
[63].—The Solitary Cormorant. From Bewick’s “British Birds”[157]
[64].—The Snow Cottage[158]
[65].—Birth-place of Bewick. His last vignette, portraying his own funeral[158]
[66].—The Broken Boat. From Bewick’s “British Birds”[160]
[67].—The Church-yard. From Bewick’s “British Birds”[160]
[68].—The Sheep-fold. By Blake. From “Virgil’s Pastorals”[162]
[69].—The Mark of Storm. By Blake. From “Virgil’s Pastorals”[162]
[70].—Cave of Despair. By Branston. From Savage’s “Hints on Decorative Printing”[165]
[71].—Vignette from “Rogers’s Poems.” London, 1827[167]
[72].—Vignette from “Rogers’s Poems.” London, 1827[167]
[73].—Death as a Friend. From a print by Professor Norton, of Cambridge. Engraved by J. Jungtow[169]
[74].—Death as a Throttler. From a print by Professor Norton, of Cambridge. Engraved by Steinbrecher[170]
[75].—The Creation. Engraved by J. F. Adams[172]
[76].—The Deluge. Engraved by J. F. Adams[173]
[77].—Butterflies. Engraved by F. S. King[175]
[78].—Spring-time. Engraved by F. S. King[177]
[79].—Mount Lafayette (White Mountains). By J. Tinkey[183]
[80].—“And silent were the sheep in woolly fold.” Engraved by J. G. Smithwick[187]
[81].—The Old Orchard. Engraved by F. Juengling[189]
[82].—Some Art Connoisseurs. Engraved by Robert Hoskin[191]
[83].—The Travelling Musicians. Engraved by R. A. Muller[194]
[84].—Shipwrecked. Engraved by Frank French[196]
[85].—The Tap-room. Engraved by Frank French[198]
[86].—Going to Church. Engraved by J. P. Davis[199]
[87].—“Nay, Love, ’tis you who stand with almond clusters in your clasping hand.” Engraved by T. Cole[201]
[88].—The Spanish Peasant. Engraved by F. Juengling[203]
[89].—James Russell Lowell. Engraved by Thomas Johnson[205]
[90].—Arthur Penrhyn Stanley. Engraved by G. Kruell[207]

A
HISTORY OF WOOD-ENGRAVING.

I.
THE ORIGIN OF THE ART.

It is more probable that the art began in the workshops of the goldsmiths, who were so skilled in engraving upon metal that impressions of much artistic value have been taken from work executed by them in the twelfth century, showing that they really were engravers obliged to remain goldsmiths, because the art of printing from metal plates was unknown.[1] By their knowledge of design and their artistic execution, at least, if not by their mechanical inventiveness, the goldsmiths were the lineal ancestors of the great engravers of the Renaissance. Their art had been continued from Roman times, with fewer interruptions and hinderances than any other of the fine arts. It was early employed in the adornment of the altar, the pax, and other articles of the Church service; already, in St. Bernard’s time, so much attention was given to workmanship of this kind, and so much wealth lavished upon it, that he denounced it, with true ascetic spirit, as a decoration of what was soon to become vile, a waste of what might have been given to the poor, and a distraction of the spirit from holiness to the admiration of beauty. “The Church,” he said, “shines with the splendor of her walls, and among her poor is destitution; she clothes her stones with gold, and leaves her children naked. * * * Finally, so many things are to be seen, everywhere such a marvellous variety of different forms, that one may read more upon the sculptured walls than in the written Scriptures, and spend the whole day in going about in wonder from one such thing to another, rather than in meditating upon God’s law.”[2] The art might have suffered seriously from such uncompromising opposition as St. Bernard made, had not Suger, the great abbot of St. Denys, taken up its defence and supported it by his patronage and by his eloquence. “Let each one have his own opinion,” he writes, “but I confess it is my conviction that whatever is most precious ought to be devoted above all to that holiest rite of the Eucharist; if golden lavers, if golden cups, and if golden bowls were used, by the command of God or of the prophet, to catch the blood of rams or bullocks or heifers, how much more ought vases of gold, precious stones, and whatever is dearest among all creatures, ever to be set forth with full devotion to receive the blood of Jesus Christ!”[3] By such arguments Suger defended the rightfulness and value of the goldsmith’s art in the service of the Church. After his time the employment of the goldsmiths upon church decoration became so great that they were really the artists of Europe during the two hundred years previous to the invention of wood-engraving.[4] In the pursuit of their craft they practised the arts of modelling, casting, sculpture, engraving, enamelling, and the setting of precious stones; and in the thirteenth century they made use of all these resources in the execution of their beautiful works of art made of gold and silver, richly engraved, and adorned with bass-reliefs and statuettes, and brilliant with many-colored enamel and with jewels—the reliquaries in which were kept the innumerable holy relics that then filled Europe, the famous shrines for the bodies of the saints, about which pilgrims from every quarter were ever at prayer, and the tombs of the Crusaders, and of dignitaries of Church or State. They employed their skill, too, for the lesser glory of the churches, upon the vessels of the Holy Communion, the crosses, candelabra, and censers, and the ornaments that incrusted the vestments of the priests. With the increase of luxury and wealth they found a new field for their invention in contributing to the magnificence of secular life; in fashioning into strange forms the ewers, goblets, flagons, and every vessel which adorned the banquet; and in ornamenting them with fantastic figures, or with scenes from the chase, or from the history of Charlemagne and Saladin, as well as in executing those finely wrought decorations with which the silks and velvets of the nobles were so heavily charged that the old poet, Martial d’Auvergne, says the lords and knights were “caparisoned in gold-work and jewels.” Under Charles V. of France (1364) and the great Dukes of the Low Countries, the jewel-chamber of the prince was his pride in peace and his treasury in war: it furnished gifts for the bride, the favorite, and the heir, and for foreign ambassadors and princes; it afforded pay for retainers before the battle and ransom after it, and in the days of the great fêtes its treasures gave to the courts of France, Burgundy, and Flanders a magnificence that has seldom been seen in Europe.[5]

Under such fortunate encouragement the goldsmiths of the fourteenth century reached a knowledge of design and a finish in execution that justified the claim of their art to the first place among the fine arts, and made their workshops the apprentice-home of many great masters of art in Italy as well as in the North. They best understood the value of art, and were best skilled in artistic processes; they were the only persons[6] who had by them all the means for taking an impression—the engraved metal plate, iron tools, burnishers for rubbing off a proof, blackened oil, and paper which they used for tracing their designs; they would, too, have been aided in their art, merely as goldsmiths, could they have tested their engraving from time to time by taking an impression from it in its various stages. It is not unlikely, therefore, that the art of taking impressions from engraved work was found out, or at least was first extensively applied, in their workshops, where it could hardly have failed to be discovered ultimately, as paper came into use more generally and for more various purposes. If this were the case, metal-engraving preceded wood-engraving, but only by a brief space of time, because, as soon as the idea of the new art was fully grasped, wood must have been almost immediately employed in preference to metal, on account of the greater ease and speed of working in wood, and of the less injury done to the paper in printing from it.

Some support for this view, that the art of printing from engraved metal plates was discovered by the goldsmiths, and preceded and suggested wood-engraving, is derived from the peculiar prints in the manière criblée, or the dotted style, of which over three hundred are known. They were produced by a mixed process of engraving in relief and in intaglio, usually upon a metal plate, but sometimes upon wood. The effects are given by dots and lines relieved in white upon a black ground, assisted by dots and lines relieved in black upon a white ground. These prints have afforded much material for dispute and controversy, both as to their process and their date; the mode in which the metal plates from which they were printed were engraved, particularly the punching out small holes in the metal, which appear usually as white dots, and give the name to the prints, is the same as a mode of ornamental work[7] in metal that had been practised for centuries in the workshops of the goldsmiths, and on this account they have been ascribed to the goldsmiths of the great Northern cities.[8] They appeared certainly as early as 1450, and probably much earlier.[9] Some of these prints are evidently taken from metal plates not originally meant to be printed from, for the inscriptions on the prints as well as the actions of the figures appear reversed, the words reading backward, and the figures performing actions with the left hand almost always performed by the right hand.[10] These may be the work of the first years of the fifteenth century, or they may have been taken long afterward, in a spirit of curiosity or experiment. The existence of these early prints, however, undoubtedly from the workshops of the goldsmiths, and after a mode long practised by them, strengthens the hypothesis—suggested by their wide acquaintance with artistic processes and their exclusive possession of all the proper instruments—that they originated the art of taking impressions on paper from engraved work; at all events, this seems the least wild, the most consistent, and best supported conjecture which has been put forth.