Size of the original etching, 10⅛ × 4¾ inches
Webster. Ancienne Faculté de Médecine, Paris
“The artist’s subtle perception of light and his refined draftsmanship have been used to singular advantage in the Ancienne Faculté de Médecine, 1608. One is grateful to him for his fine record of this domed building that was a little gem of Renaissance art, though there is a note of sadness in the substructure of balks and struts set at its base by the ruthless hand of the destroyer.” Martin Hardie.
Size of the original etching, 11⅞ × 7⅞ inches
Gothic canopies and tracery are drawn with loving care in the Porte des Marmousets, St. Ouen, Rouen, but here again it is the mystery of shadow in the deep porch that supplies the true theme. A church porch has also supplied the subject of one of Mr. Webster’s latest works, Notre Dame des Andelys. The ordinary observer will delight in the print for its beautiful rendering of a noble fragment of architecture. Those who have real knowledge of etching will appreciate it still more for its clever biting and for its subtle delicacy of line so cunningly used for the indication of stone, glass, and woodwork with their different surfaces and textures.
That plate of Notre Dame des Andelys, though not the most instantly engaging, is perhaps the most accomplished which the artist has produced. It is in this accomplishment that from the coldly critical point of view I see an indication—a hint only—of possible danger. Here, and to some extent in the Pont Neuf and the Rue Grenier, the careful, tense, concentrated work shows almost too disciplined a self-control. Close study of these prints gives just a touch of the irritation that comes from watching the monotonous perfection of a first-class game-shot or golfer, bringing a malicious desire for some mistake or piece of recklessness. The true etching always appeals in some degree by its spice of adventure, by some happiness of accident, and so while the Pont Neuf and the Notre Dame des Andelys rouse full admiration and respect for their splendid artistry, the more haphazard methods of the Rue Brise Miche and Les Blanchisseuses touch a far deeper note of sympathy. They have in them the breezy, natural oratory that is often so much more stirring than the fluent, polished periods of the accomplished speaker. But even where Mr. Webster is most precise in his articulation, most resolute in his adherence to familiar truths, he always combines with this a personal aspect and a power of selection that, disregarding the commonplace and petty, lends poetry to the interpretation. His “careful” work is very far removed from the cold and careful work of the ordinary uninspired craftsman.
In studying the work of a young etcher—and Mr. Webster is still young as an etcher—it is almost always possible to trace certain influences which, quite legitimately, have acted upon his choice of subject and his technique. In one of his first etchings, The Court, Bourron, the Whistler influence is frankly apparent. Les Blanchisseuses is in no sense an imitative plate, but I should have said it was the work of a man who knew Whistler’s Unsafe Tenement by heart. And there comes in the critic’s danger of leaping to rash conclusions, for Mr. Webster tells me he never saw that print by Whistler till long after his etching was made. For the Meryon influence, which is clearly apparent in much of his work, Mr. Webster makes no apology. Nor need he do so; for if he reminds us, here a little of Whistler, there a little of Meryon, there is always a large measure of himself besides. The true artist lights his torch from that of his predecessors: it is his business to carry on great traditions. “I have done my best simply to learn from him, not to steal” —that is Mr. Webster’s own expressive way of putting it.
Webster. Notre Dame des Andelys