But it was not until I had pored over the contents of six huge volumes containing his complete works, at the Cabinet des Estampes of the Bibliothèque Nationale, that I realized what a unique achievement had been that of the engraver from Rheims. He had made, it seems, a multitude of drawings from life of his contemporaries, in pencil, silverpoint, crayons, and pastels, from the King himself down to the humblest curé of his parish, and had then engraved many of them on copper, securing thereby so many impressions that although almost all of his original drawings have disappeared, his work has been perpetuated for all times. (Whoever has said that a multitude of sheets of paper scattered among the museums of the world constituted a monument more enduring than the pyramids, must have been a collector, for he realized with how much jealousy a treasure can be guarded.) Throughout all this work Nanteuil exhibited such power as a draughtsman that his portraits won international fame for their resemblance, and moreover he engraved with such perfection that his work and the influence he exerted over the great school formed by Louis XIV mark the Golden Age of Line-engraving.
It is therefore in a dual capacity that Nanteuil must be admired, and this point has not been sufficiently emphasized by his critics. He is an inspiring example of a man who has set out to do only one thing (for he never attempted anything but heads)—but has learned to do it so well that he rises far above his rivals and has made his name a synonym for supreme excellence. To carry the engraved portrait to its greatest possible perfection had been his ambition, and he succeeded in this, for it is not possible to imagine the burin producing more decided color, greater fullness of tone, and finer finish than can be found in a great many portraits by Nanteuil. It can be said that he used the sharp metal point with the same freedom as a great painter uses a brush; his technique was so elastic and susceptible of modification that he was enabled to test to the fullest extent the possibilities of his medium and to determine its limitations.
When one is lucky enough to have the wonderful collections of the Cabinet des Estampes at his disposal, the next thing to do after having seen the works of Nanteuil is to examine those of his contemporaries. It becomes perfectly clear which artists have influenced him, and to what extent; it will also be evident at a glance that he influenced all the rest. This study, however superficial, will take several days, for the number of peintre-graveurs encouraged by Louis XIV through the indefatigable Colbert was great, and their work was enormous. Edelinck, who until recently has been better known than Nanteuil, was extremely prolific, and Pitau, the Poillys, Masson, Lombart, and Van Schuppen, to say nothing of Mellan and Morin among many others, produced a great many portraits. What a collection! What a complete iconography of le grand siècle! Here is everybody who was at all prominent in the most civilized country of the time. Is it possible not to develop a love of portraiture, a strong interest in engraving and a desire to collect engraved portraits, of all pictures the most convenient, the most possible to acquire and keep in large numbers?
I am reminded of John Evelyn and Samuel Pepys as well as of the abbé Michel de Marolles, who were the first great or systematic collectors of engraved portraits, the Frenchman owning twenty thousand prints and all the portraits extant. Evelyn wrote to Pepys advising him to collect them, for, as he said, “some are so well done to the life that they may stand in competition with the best paintings.” He then adds: “This were a cheaper and so much a more useful curiosity as they seldom are without their names, ages and eulogies of the persons whose portraits they represent. I say you will be exceedingly pleased to contemplate the effigies of those who have made such a noise and bustle in the world, either by their madness and folly, or a more conspicuous figure by their wit and learning. They will greatly refresh you in your study and by your fireside when you are many years returned.” We later see him write in his “Diary” that he had “sat to the great Nanteuil who had been knighted by the king for his art” and had considered himself “unworthy of being included in that gallery of models whom Nanteuil’s art has made famous.” We know by his own “Diary” that Pepys became an enthusiastic collector and that he went over to Paris to buy many prints by the great engraver, at a later date commissioning his wife to secure for him many more which he strongly desired.
Portrait-painting had at that time become a mania, and there was no one of any prominence who did not wish to leave to posterity a record of his physical appearance. Richelieu in a single order had called for an entire gallery full of portraits of celebrities. The French peintre-graveurs proved how effectively color could be translated into black and white, and by revealing the true relation of engraving to painting shared the fame of their contemporaries in the other arts.
It is not possible for the lover of prints to glance at this interminable gallery and not be amazed at the number of portraits which show much originality in their treatment and infinite skill in their execution, but I defy the admirer of truth in art not to be impressed by the small number of those by other engravers which are distinguished by both simplicity and conviction. The heads of Mellan, which were drawn with as few lines as possible, remain absurdly unique, and the etched portraits of Morin, who was a faithful translator of Philippe de Champaigne, are too personal for comparison. But the mass of the peintre-graveurs give constant proofs of having been influenced by Nanteuil’s method, and in the case of Van Schuppen there is a very close following indeed in the master’s footsteps. He is supposed to have been his favorite pupil.
Nevertheless, Edelinck, brilliant colorist as he was and a wonderfully clever artist with his burin, refused to do any original work and too frequently attempted to add vigor and brilliancy to the portraits he copied. In modeling his faces he, in the opinion of Nanteuil himself, broke his lines unnecessarily. The work of Masson lacks quiet and balance, when his faces are not out of drawing, while that of the rest of the school displays that great vitality and style which made it a model for all the artists of the following century, without, however, combining these qualities with the solidity, consummate science, and restraint which characterize almost all Nanteuil’s portraits.
Nanteuil. Louis XIV
Engraved in 1666 from Nanteuil’s own drawing from life
Louis XIV was twenty-eight years of age when this portrait
was engraved