Size of the original engraving, 12⅝ × 10 inches
There cannot have been a time when they were not admired by those who possessed true artistic perception, but there is no indication that any special value was attached to them or that they were collected. Suffice it to say that at the Mariette sale, in 1775, the complete works of Nanteuil, two hundred and eighty proofs of two hundred and sixteen plates in choice impressions, realized only a trifle over one hundred dollars. More than five times that sum has recently been paid for one single print. In 1825, at a famous auction, record prices of twelve dollars and nine dollars were paid respectively for the portraits of Pompone de Bellièvre and Richelieu. Half a century later their value was not much greater, and general interest in them remained dormant until four years ago when the collecting world suddenly realized their artistic worth, and made a raid on the leading markets of Europe.
It is said that Nanteuil kept a journal; if so, we must greatly deplore the fact that it has not been preserved to us, for we would have been treated to a delightful account of the habits of painters in that time and to many anecdotes connected with their sittings. Who shall ever know the number of Nanteuil’s sitters? His studio was found full of pastel portraits many of which had never been engraved, and his pencil and pen sketches seem to have been innumerable. In spite of his reputation of bon vivant and his popularity with both the bourgeoisie and the nobility, allusions to Nanteuil in the memoirs of the day are fragmentary and we know little about the man. We are told, however, that he was born in Rheims about 1630 and that he drew so persistently during his school years that his studies were sadly neglected. It was only through the excellence of the frontispiece which he engraved for his thesis that he succeeded in securing his degree. The conscientious engraver Regnesson taught him all he knew, gave him his sister in marriage, and sent him to Paris, not to complete his apprenticeship, for Nanteuil was already more famous than his master, but in order to place him under the influence of the court painters.
In the great city his wit and conviviality won him many friends and his talent for securing an excellent likeness secured him instant fame. It is said that he received his first order by following some divinity students to a wine-shop where they were wont to take their meals. There, having chosen one of the portraits he had brought from Rheims, he pretended to look for a sitter whose name and address he had forgotten. It is superfluous to add that the picture was not recognized, but it was passed from hand to hand, the price was asked, the artist was modest in his demands, and before the end of the repast his career had begun. He made so many portraits in a week that he was advised by a famous connoisseur to limit his production to four. At night he copied them in pen-and-ink for the sake of familiarizing himself with that burin work which later was to astonish Europe.
During many months he catered to the growing demand for the portrait, with drawings in the style of those of the Clouets and the Dumonstiers. One has but to realize in what favor all portrait-makers were in those days in order to understand how this peculiarly gifted artist sprang into such sudden popularity. The dignity of French portrait-painting was being upheld by the noble Philippe de Champaigne, under whose influence the painters of the time produced a great number of portraits which, if not technically brilliant, were presented with that serious dignity which was characteristic of the early seventeenth century and were drawn with admirable sincerity and correctness. To him Nanteuil went for advice and encouragement, and soon after presented the engraved copy of the painter’s latest portrait; it met with so much success that it can be said to have started the tremendous vogue of the engraved portrait and the formation of the great school which Colbert installed at the Gobelins.
Meanwhile the artist, already a perfect draughtsman and very proficient with pastels, had carefully studied the technique of all the leading engravers, and as soon as he had evolved a system of his own bent all his efforts on revolutionizing the art. Nanteuil made a picturesque début during that incredible opera-bouffe, the War of the Fronde. He was draughted into military service, but although frequently active with a blunderbuss and wearing a false beard in imitation of the dreaded Swiss mercenaries, he succeeded in making a portrait of all the heroes of the day. For him sat Condé and the Duc d’Epernon, the last representative of feudalism in France; the Ducs de Bouillon, de Mercœur, de Nemours, and de Beaufort, who met in taverns to appoint the generals of an army which did not exist; the Archbishop of Paris, de Retz, who appeared in Parliament armed like a pirate; that fat poet and peasant Loret, who sold on street corners his “Muse Historique,” a daily satire on the intriguing nobles “who were not afraid of bullets but who were in deadly fear of winter mud,” and lastly the indomitable prime minister, Cardinal Mazarin, whom the populace twice drove from Paris and then so madly welcomed back that many were trampled to death in the riot. Of that wily Italian he engraved as many as fourteen portraits.
During the few years which followed the civil war he made his most interesting portraits.
It was then that he assiduously frequented the literary salons of the capital where, a poetaster of some renown, he was ever welcome and made that beautiful pastel portrait of Madame de Sévigné which has been preserved to us, and another of Mlle. de Scudéry, who thanked him as follows:
Nanteuil en faisant mon image
A de son art divin signalé le pouvoir,