There is a most extraordinary story related in connection with Hogarth's last engraving. While spending a merry evening with some friends he was heard to say: "My next undertaking will be the end of all things." "If that is so," remarked one of his companions, "there will soon be an end of the artist." "Yes, there will be," Hogarth replied, "and the sooner my task is finished the better." The engraving was executed under the impulse of an intense excitement. "Finis," he exclaimed, as he finished that most remarkable design, "All is now over," and, strange to relate, this was actually his last work, for he died about a month later.
Robert Strange, who was contemporary with Hogarth, was a native of the Orkney Islands. He was an art student in Edinburgh when Prince Charlie landed, and his Jacobite sympathies led him to throw aside his work and join the young chevalier. When the remnant of the army of 1745 was flying before Duke William after the battle of Culloden, Strange, closely pursued by a number of soldiers, sought shelter in the house of the Lumsdales. Miss Lumsdale was sitting with her work by one of the windows, and at once offered to conceal the young soldier underneath the folds of her skirt. Ladies' skirts of the crinoline period were of such proportions as to render the concealment easy, and Miss Lumsdale, to lull the suspicions of the pursuing soldiers, continued her sewing, and affected considerable surprise and indignation at their intrusion. They shamefacedly withdrew upon finding the lady alone, and Strange afterwards made good his escape to France. Gratitude to his deliverer, intensified by the romantic situation which saved his life, quickly ripened into love, and, it is needless to add, a good old-fashioned love match.
Strange settled in London about 1750, when, by his zeal and skilful work, he added much to the fame of historical engraving in this country. He engraved over eighty plates during his lifetime, and displayed a literary talent of no mean order. He was not a brilliant draughtsman, but the tone and texture of his engravings are almost perfect.
He was knighted in 1781.
There is yet one other engraver of this period whose career merits a share of attention and interest.
James Gilray was born in 1757, and, like Hogarth, commenced at the bottom rung of the ladder as a letter engraver. He also became a notable caricaturist, and some idea of his skill in this branch of pictorial art may be gleaned from the fact that over 1200 designs were the product of his inventive fancy. Though not by any means indolent, his habits were dissipated, and unfortunately for him he, for many years, resided with his publisher, who gratified his passions so long as his art was sufficiently productive. Gilray's designs were not all caricatures. A number of illustrations for Goldsmith's Deserted Village were designed and engraved by him. He also engraved a few of Northcote's pictures. His style was free and spirited, and he was one of the first English engravers to prove the merits of stipple engraving.
The stipple manner of engraving was a curious development of the art. It appeared as though line engraving could not keep pace with the ever-growing demand for pictures, and was therefore combined with stipple to facilitate production. In capable hands very fine results were obtained with this combination.
English engraving was still in its infancy, however, and continental productions were favoured by the art patrons of this country, until a stimulus was given to native art by the painters Reynolds, Wilson, and West. Profiting by this renewed interest, Woollet entered upon a career of unqualified success, and eventually succeeded in obtaining full recognition for the merits of English engraving.
As a boy Woollet showed his artistic proclivities in a strange manner. His father, it is stated, won a £5000 prize in a lottery, and bought an inn, glorying in the name of "The Turk's Head," a title which the embryonic artist endeavoured to express pictorially on a pewter pot. The father, struck by some quality in the drawing, apprenticed young Woollet to an obscure London engraver. From an artistic point of view this apprenticeship was of little value. Woollet was a born artist, and although his early training may have intensified the natural bent of his genius, it did little to cultivate it. He possessed versatile talents. His historical pictures were, in every respect, equal to his landscapes, and these will long remain as lasting and convincing monuments of his skill. The boldness of contrast and accuracy of execution displayed by Woollet in his landscape engravings far surpassed all previous efforts to express pictorial effects with the graver.
Raimbach was a miniature painter of some note, who, like many other artists, turned from creative to reproductive art, and became a successful engraver. In 1812 he became associated with David Wilkie, and it is generally supposed that he was retained by that artist for the reproduction of his pictures. Raimbach's translations of Wilkie's works were in every sense artistic productions and faithful representations. He was said to be so careful and conscientious in his work that he employed no assistants, but this was not entirely true. Careful and conscientious he undoubtedly was, but he frequently employed assistants to engrave the less important parts of his commissions. Raimbach was born in 1776, and died 1843.