In the 19th century line-engraving received first an impulse and finally a check. The impulse came from the growth of public wealth, the increasing interest in art and the increase in the commerce of art, which, by means of engraving, fostered in England mainly by John Boydell, penetrated into the homes of the middle classes, as well as from the growing demand for illustrated books, which gave employment to engravers of first-rate ability. The check to line-engraving came from the desire for cheaper and more rapid methods, a desire satisfied in various ways, but especially by etching and by the various kinds of photography. Nevertheless, the 19th century produced most highly accomplished work in line-engraving, both in the figure and in landscape. Its characteristics, in comparison with the work of other centuries, were chiefly a more thorough and delicate rendering of local colour, light and shade, and texture. The elder engravers could draw as correctly as the moderns, but they either neglected these elements or admitted them sparingly, as opposed to the spirit of their art. In a modern engraving from Landseer may be seen the blackness of a man’s boots (local colour), the soft roughness of his coat (texture), and the exact value in light and dark of his face and costume against the cloudy sky. Nay more, there is to be found every sparkle on bit, boot and stirrup. Modern painting pays more attention to texture and chiaroscuro than classical painting did, and engraving necessarily followed in the same directions. But there is a certain sameness in pure line-engraving more favourable to some forms and textures than to others. This sameness of line-engraving, and its costliness, led to the adoption of mixed methods, extremely prevalent in commercial prints from popular artists. In the well-known prints from Rosa Bonheur, for example, by T. Landseer, H. T. Ryall, and C. G. Lewis, the tone of the skies is got by machine-ruling, and so is much undertone in the landscape; the fur of the animals is all etched, and so are the foreground plants, the real burin work being used sparingly where most favourable to texture. Even in the exquisite engravings after Turner, by Cooke, Goodall, Wallis, Miller, Willmore, and others, who reached a degree of delicacy in light and shade far surpassing the work of the old masters, the engravers had recourse to etching, finishing with the burin and dry point. Turner’s name may be added to those of Raphael, Rubens and Claude in the list of painters who have had a special influence upon engraving. The speciality of Turner’s influence was in the direction of delicacy of tone. In this respect the Turner vignettes to Roger’s poems were a high-water mark of human attainment, not likely ever to be surpassed.
The record of the art of line-engraving during the last quarter of the 19th century is one of continued decay. Technical improvements, it was hoped, might save the art; it was thought by some that the slight revival resultant on the turning back of the burin’s cutting-point—whereby the operator pulled the tool towards him instead of pushing it from him—might effect much, in virtue of the time and labour saved by the device. But by the beginning of the 20th century pictorial line-engraving in England was practically non-existent, and, with the passing of Jeens and Stacpoole, the spasmodic demand by publishers for engravers to engrave new plates remained unanswered. Mr C. W. Sherborn, the exquisite and facile designer and engraver of book-plates, has scarcely been surpassed in his own line, but his art is mainly heraldic. There are now no men capable of such work as that with which Doo, J. H. Robinson, and their fellows maintained the credit of the English School. Line-engraving has been killed by etching, mezzotint and the “mixed method.” The disappearance of the art is due not so much to the artistic objection that the personality of the line-engraver stands obtrusively between the painter and the public; it is rather that the public refuse to wait for several years for the proofs for which they have subscribed, when by another method they can obtain their plates more quickly. An important line plate may occupy a prodigious time in the engraving; J. H. Robinson’s “Napoleon and the Pope” took about twelve years. The invention of steel-facing a copper plate would now enable the engraver to proceed more expeditiously; but even in this case he can no more compete with the etcher than the mezzotint-engraver can keep pace with the photogravure manufacturer.
The Art Union of London in the past gave what encouragement it could; but with the death of J. Stephenson (1886) and F. Bacon (1887) it was evident that all hope was gone. John Saddler at the end was driven, in spite of his capacity to do original work, to spend most of his time in assisting Thomas Landseer to rule the skies on his plates, simply because there was not enough line-engraving to do. Since then there was some promise of a revival, and Mr Bourne engraved a few of the pictures by Gustave Doré. But little followed. The last of the line-engravers of Turner’s pictures died in the person of Sir Daniel Wilson (d. 1892), who, recognizing the hopelessness of his early profession, laid his graver aside, and left Europe for Canada and eventually became president of the university of Toronto.
If line-engraving still flourishes in France, it is due not a little to official encouragement and to intelligent fostering by collectors and connoisseurs. The prizes offered by the École des Beaux Arts would probably not suffice to give vitality to the art but for the employment afforded to the finished artist by the “Chalcographie du Musée du Louvre,” in the name of which commissions are judiciously distributed. At the same time, it must be recognized that not only are French engravers less busy than they were in days when line-engraving was the only “important” method of picture-translation, but they work for the most part for much smaller rewards. Moreover, the class of the work has entirely changed, partly through the reduction of prices paid for it, partly through the change of taste and fashion, and partly, again, through the necessities of the situation. That is to say, that public impatience is but a partial factor in the abandonment of the fine broad sweeping trough cut deep into the copper which was characteristic of the earlier engraving, either simply cut or crossed diagonally so as to form the series of “lozenges” typical of engraving at its finest and grandest period. That method was slow; but scarcely less slow was the shallower work rendered possible by the steel plate by reason of the much greater degree of elaboration of which such plates were capable, and which the public was taught—mainly by Finden—to expect. The French engravers were therefore driven at last to simplify their work if they were to satisfy the public and live by the burin. To compensate for loss of colour, the art developed in the direction of elegance and refinement. Gaillard (d. 1887), Blanchard, and Alphonse François (d. 1888) were perhaps the earliest chiefs of the new school, the characteristics of which are the substitution of exquisite greys for the rich blacks of old, simplicity of method being often allied to extremely high elaboration. Yet the aim of the modern engraver has always been, while pushing the capability of his own art to the farthermost limit, to retain throughout the individual and personal qualities of the master whose work is translated on the plate. The height of perfection to which the art is reached is seen in the triptych of Mantegna by Achille Jacquet (d. 1909), to whom may perhaps be accorded the first place among several engravers of the front rank. This “Passion” (from the three pictures in the Louvre and at Tours, forming the predella of the San Zeno altarpiece in Verona) not only conveys the forms, sentiment, and colour of the master, but succeeds also in rendering the peculiar luminosity of the originals. Jacquet, who gained the Prix de Rome in 1870, also translated pictures of Sir Joshua Reynolds, and engraved fine plates after Paul Dubois, Cabanel, Bouguereau, Meissonier and Detaille. The freedom of much of his work suggests an affinity with etching and dry-point; indeed, it appears that he uses the etching-needle and acid to lay in some of his groundwork and outlines. Léopold Flameng’s engraving after Jan van Eyck’s “Virgin with the Donor,” in the Louvre, is one of the most admirable works of its kind, retaining the quality and sentiment of the master, extreme minuteness and elaboration notwithstanding. Jules Jacquet is known for his work after Meissonier (especially the “Friedland”) and after Bonnat; Adrien Didier for his plates after Holbein (“Anne of Cleves”), Raphael, and Paul Veronese, among the Old Masters, and Bonnat, Bouguereau, and Roybet among the new. Jazinski (Botticelli’s “Primavera”), Sulpis (Mantegna and Gustave Moreau), Patricot (Gustave Moreau), Burney, and Champollion (d. 1901), have been among the leaders of the modern school. Their object is to secure the faithful transcript of the painter they reproduce, while readily sacrificing the power of the old method, which, whatever its force and its beauty, was easily acquired by mediocre artists of technical ability who were nevertheless unable to appreciate or reproduce anything beyond mechanical excellence.
The Belgian School of engraving is not without vitality. Gustave Biot was equally skilful in portraiture and subject (engraving after Gallait, Cabanel, Gustave Doré, among his best work); A. M. Danse executed plates after leading painters, and elaborated an effective “mixed method” of graver-work and dry-point; and de Meerman has engraved a number of good plates; but private patronage is hardly sufficient in Belgium to maintain the school in a state of prosperous efficiency.
In Germany, as might be expected, line-engraving retains not a little of its popularity in its more orthodox form. The novel Stauffer-Bern method, in which freedom and lightness are obtained with such delicacy that the fine lines, employed in great numbers, run into tone, and yield a supposed advantage in modelling, has not been without appreciation. But the more usual virtue of the graver has been best supported, and many have worked in the old-fashioned manner. Friedrich Zimmermann (d. 1887) began his career by engraving such prints as Guido Reni’s “Ecce Homo” in Dresden, and then devoted himself to the translation of modern German painters. Rudolph Pfnor was an ornamentist representative of his class; and Joseph Kohlschein, of Düsseldorf, a typical exponent of the intelligent conservative manner. His “Marriage at Cana” after Paul Veronese, “The Sistine Madonna” after Raphael, and “St Cecilia” after the same master, are all plates of a high order.
In Italy the art is well-nigh as moribund as in England. When Vittorio Pica (of Naples) and Conconi (of Milan) have been named, it is difficult to mention other successors to the fine school of the 19th century which followed Piranesi and Volpato. A few of the pupils of Rosaspina and Paolo Toschi lived into the last quarter of the century, but to the present generation Asiolo, Jesi, C. Raimondi, L. Bigola, and Antonio Isac are remembered rather for their efforts than for their success in supporting their art against the combined opposition of etching, “process” and public indifference.
Outside Europe line-engraving can no longer be said to exist. Here and there a spasmodic attempt may be made to appeal to the artistic appreciation of a limited public; but no general attention is paid to such efforts, nor, it may be added, are these inherently worthy of much notice. There are still a few who can engrave a head from a photograph or drawing, or a small engraving for book-illustration or for book-plates; there are more who are highly proficient in mechanical engraving for decorative purposes; but the engraving-machine is fast superseding this class. In short, the art of worthily translating a fine painting beyond the borders of France, Belgium, Germany and perhaps Italy can scarcely be said to survive, and even in those countries it appears to exist on sufferance and by hot-house encouragement.
Authorities.—P. G. Hamerton, Drawing and Engraving (Edinburgh, 1892); H. W. Singer and W. Strang, Etching, Engraving, and other methods of Printing Pictures (London, 1897); A. de Lostalot, Les Procédés de la gravure (Paris, 1882); Le Comte Henri Delaborde, La Gravure (Paris, English trans., with a chapter on English engraving methods, by William Walker, London, 1886); H. W. Singer, Geschichte des Kupferstichs (Magdeburg and Leipzig, 1895), and Der Kupferstich (Bielefeld and Leipzig, 1904); Alex. Waldow, Illustrirte Encyklopädie der Graphischen Künste (Leipzig, 1881-1884); Lippmann, Engraving and Engraving, translated by Martin Hardie (London, 1906); and for those who desire books of gossip on the subject, Arthur Hayden, Chats on Old Prints (London, 1906), and Malcolm C. Salaman, The Old Engravers of England (London, 1906).
(P. G. H.; M. H. S.)