THE ART OF CHOFFARD
The greatest and most permanent monuments of fame that any man can raise to his own memory are those he builds for himself. The colossal masterpiece that stands outlined against the horizon of Choffard’s career is his etchings for “Les Métamorphoses d’Ovide.” These thirty-seven little pictures that his needle bequeathed to posterity can best proclaim their own praises; five of them are from drawings by Monnet, the other plates are entirely by Choffard. It would be an impossible and a useless task for me to attempt to do Choffard’s masterpieces justice in words, for the artist’s inventive power is so remarkable, the delicacy of his touch so fairy-like, his compositions so delightful to the eye and pleasing to our sense of balance, and the marvellous brilliancy and effect of sunshine are so exquisite, that not the connoisseur alone discerns Choffard’s genius, but even the uninitiated pause in deep admiration before his superb vignettes.
Unfortunately much of Choffard’s finest work is other than the decoration of literature, and can, therefore, find no place within the space of these few pages. The draughtsman was so fond of his art that whatever purpose his drawing was to serve, all his efforts were expended on it; thus we find some of his finest pieces are trade-cards, ball-tickets, designs commemorating events such as marriages, visiting-cards, little screens, diplomas and medals, and it seems very probable that in his youth, the “enfant des quais” executed much that we, nowadays, are unable to affirm is from his hand, although in his style, for it is modestly left unsigned, and it may here be noted that Arrivet often approached Choffard in his style of designing floral borders.
Jean-Georges Wille was amused as he entered in his journal: “Monseigneur le Prince de Nassau-Saarbrück proposed for me to engrave his arms; it made me laugh; but I excused myself by proposing M. Choffard who is good at ornamentation.” If we look at book-plates of Choffard’s creation, or at the little dedication-plate to the Comte d’Artois in de Piis’ “Chansons nouvelles,” one is able to realize how just the great portrait engraver’s recommendation was. The reproduction here given of this small dedication-page gives but a slight idea of the original in a fine state, for no reproduction can possibly render justice to Choffard’s etched or engraved work. It is astonishing, even with the originals, what an extraordinary difference it makes to the picture, whether the proof is brilliant or a late impression, so is it surprising that mechanical reproductions give but a notion of that which they represent, where brilliancy and delicacy of touch are of infinite value. Every collector ought to be especially careful in avoiding proofs printed from worn or retouched plates, for they do not produce the artistic harmonies the draughtsman strove for and succeeded in achieving.
The majority of Choffard’s book-illustrations consists of designs by other artists which he has reproduced, but as Choffard was a prolific draughtsman, posterity nevertheless possesses a number of volumes wherein design and engraving are both of his own execution. In etching or engraving, Choffard’s personal, brilliant touch is almost invariably apparent, whether in reproducing the work of another, or in his own compositions; thus other artists’ works had their beauty enhanced by their translator, whereas in the few cases where Choffard left the engraving of his compositions to a strange hand, their character and vitality were weakened. Is this because Choffard was the best engraver of his day? No, several there are who could claim this place with equal right. A drawing by Choffard which is also his own etching, and the identical design if reproduced or only terminated by another, would show the same difference as there is between a letter written by hand or by a typewriter. In the one instance we only see the meaning which numberless lines depict, in the other case each line conveys a message, every curve speaks, no dot is meaningless, every touch is expressive of the character and mood of the individual. It must not be concluded from these remarks that Choffard maintained this exalted standard of work uninterruptedly during his long career, for occasionally, especially towards its close, one encounters plates signed “P. P. Choffard” and yet they do not bear that seal of charm and freshness which we are wont to expect from this genius. Pierre-Philippe Choffard, however, has not, like some artists, a given period during which he executed mediocre plates; in fact, none of his work could rightfully be dubbed indifferent or bad.
On the whole this draughtsman’s illustrations are of medium dimensions, but the fine tail-piece to the “Voyage pittoresque de la Grèce” and the fleuron on the dedication-page of the “Galerie du Palais-royale” are both of them good examples of his large original work. The latter, although etched by Choffard, is terminated by Guttenberg. Other lovely examples of this kind are the fleuron for the dedication to the Queen in Saint-Non’s “Voyage pittoresque des Royaumes de Naples et de la Sicile,” and the two tail-pieces Choffard also executed for this book. The remarkable one that represents Messina before the earthquake that took place there in 1783, pictures the view of the town on a torn sheet of paper, and through the rent is seen a tree, a branch of which protrudes and overlaps a part of the picture; while a smoking torch is placed below the view, so as to give the tail-piece the appearance of a kind of allegorical prediction of the catastrophe that was to befall the ill-fated city. This composition is an exceptional piece of artistic ingenuity, invention, and skill in placing everything in the most advantageous manner, while yet giving each item its true colour value; these qualities, however, are salient in all Choffard’s good work.
Unlike Marillier and Eisen, Choffard’s drawings, for the most part, are not wonderfully minutely treated, for the inventor was accustomed to transferring his own design on to the copper and therefore frequently dispensed with great finish in his drawings. Many of Choffard’s illustrations are pure etchings, such as those in the 1762 edition of La Fontaine’s “Contes et nouvelles en vers,” but like these, his pure etchings are usually from his own sketches. Even those drawings of Choffard which have been engraved by a stranger have, in many cases, been preliminarily etched on the copper-plate by Choffard himself.
There are so many angles from which the various aspects of Choffard’s career may be gauged, that it would be interesting to speculate as to the place his talents would occupy to-day, if Choffard lived now instead of being our ancestors’ contemporary. Some may think that his light would not shine so brightly in the twentieth century, since there is no Eisen or other great illustrator with whom to intermix his plates and thus help to form a contrast of exquisite illustration, each enhancing the other draughtsman’s style. This is an error. Were such a master as Choffard to exist in these materialistic days, he would be admired ten-fold more than artists now praise the talent of this draughtsman of bygone times; no Moreau, Cochin, Eisen, Marillier, or Gaucher now live to dispute the laurels with him, and Choffard would stand alone, not only the recognized “maître ornemaniste” but also the champion vignettiste, illustrator, designer, and engraver of our days.
Even during the eighteenth century he was marked out as a fine engraver of illustrations, and he likewise successfully engraved estampes and portraits. The likeness of La Rochefoucauld serves as an excellent example of Choffard’s skill in handling the burin, and this small portrait alone, would suffice to place him equal with that king of miniature portrait engraving—Gaucher. The “Maximes et réfléxions morales,” to which this plate forms a frontispiece, bears the date 1778 on the title-page, whereas La Rochefoucauld’s portrait is dated a year later, by Choffard. A post-dated illustration is a circumstance frequently encountered in French books of the eighteenth century, and it is often difficult to decide whether the volume itself was published later than is stated or if the plates were issued for insertion in the book after its publication. Both methods are known to have been practised, and it is of little consequence to collectors whether the illustrations were or were not contained in the book at the time of issue, considering certain works are deemed incomplete if they do not comprise the post-dated plates which properly belong to that particular work. There are also portraits that were published separately and yet are usually found in books; connoisseurs do not in these cases regard certain volumes as complete when such a portrait, or more, are absent, because it has been the custom, among collectors, to add this special picture, or pictures, to the copy of a work to which the plates apply, when they were obtainable, and thus the best-known copies of such books contain them. This is the case with Président Hénault’s “Histoire de France.”
It may also be remarked that illustrations executed for one book were often used for several other works. Those plates that found favour in the sight of connoisseurs were sometimes copied, or worn plates were retouched and issued as originals; therefore the collector of to-day must be very cautious lest he buys a book on old paper with plates professing to be by the artist whose name they bear, but which are nevertheless from faked plates or are forgeries. Another peculiarity of some books of that period, is the way in which they were issued; an edition was divided between several publishers either because they all desired to have a hand in the issue or perhaps to lessen the risks. This accounts for the reason why some books appear under the names of different publishers, although the volumes themselves are identical. The 1767-1771 edition of “Les Métamorphoses d’Ovide” appeared under the names of five different publishers, each placing his own name in the particular copies for which he subscribed. Furthermore it would appear that at times, a publisher would place a title-page in his copies with as marked a difference as that of altering the name of the work itself. For instance “Les jeux de la petite Thalie,” by Gravelot, also appeared under the title of “Almanach utile et agréable de la loterie de l’école royale militaire pour l’année 1759 et 1760” with the frontispiece changed.