DOI Kapitel:
Chapter I
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.62095#0030
CHAPTER I
The early history of engraving and its paucity of record—The story of the Cunios—Giulio Campagnola and his
stipple-work at the end of the fifteenth century.
The art of engraving is at least as old as the story of Moses. The art of transferring
engravings from gem or metal to material or paper came into vogue about the fifteenth
century. There is a mass of evidence as to the exact date of the discovery with which
I do not intend to weary my readers. How it branched off into typography, and evolved
from wood-blocks to metal-plates, from line to mezzotint, mezzotint to stipple, stipple to
aquatint, is equally beyond my scope. In the pages of Vasari and Bartsch the battle of
Chalcography in its primary stages is fought out under the respective banners of Maso
Finiguerra and Albrecht Durer. The curious in chronology will find further gratification
in Heinecken, Ottley, and Zani. Papillon, who contradicts most of what the others
affirm, but who is always vivid and entertaining as an author however unreliable as a man,
will add the necessary zest to the study. But it is incidentally interesting to note that
nearly every engraver of worth became emulous at one time or another of the painter’s
effects, and that almost every experiment in engraving was followed by an attempt to get
colour into the work by direct methods. In order, therefore, to trace the progress of
colour-printing, it is essential not to lose sight of the steps of the engraver ; and, although
engraving and colour-printing never really met successfully until the stipple joined them,
the dream of such a happy union was the mirage in the sandy desert of the years between
the Renaissance and the eighteenth century, actuating alike the chiaroscurist and the
printer.
One sees an art through the medium of a temperament, and mine being rather
imaginative than studious, the personalities of these old engravers and colour-printers have
sometimes engrossed my attention and interest to the exclusion of the obscure points
raised by different writers as to the exact month, in the exact year, in which they
made their various experiments. Like Mr. Whistler, I have little sympathy with the art
critic who considers a date an accomplishment, and is satisfied when he has filed the
fifteenth century and pigeon-holed the antique.
It is for this reason that the early specimens of engraving, stipple-engraving, and
colour-printing have appeared to me as so many illustrations of the histories of the
Cunios, of Giulio Campagnola and Ottavio Leoni, of Ugo da Carpi, Andreani, and Teyler.
I have skimmed the pages of the authorities above quoted, and culled from them that
which has guided me as to the order of the following pages. But I have not blindly
B
The early history of engraving and its paucity of record—The story of the Cunios—Giulio Campagnola and his
stipple-work at the end of the fifteenth century.
The art of engraving is at least as old as the story of Moses. The art of transferring
engravings from gem or metal to material or paper came into vogue about the fifteenth
century. There is a mass of evidence as to the exact date of the discovery with which
I do not intend to weary my readers. How it branched off into typography, and evolved
from wood-blocks to metal-plates, from line to mezzotint, mezzotint to stipple, stipple to
aquatint, is equally beyond my scope. In the pages of Vasari and Bartsch the battle of
Chalcography in its primary stages is fought out under the respective banners of Maso
Finiguerra and Albrecht Durer. The curious in chronology will find further gratification
in Heinecken, Ottley, and Zani. Papillon, who contradicts most of what the others
affirm, but who is always vivid and entertaining as an author however unreliable as a man,
will add the necessary zest to the study. But it is incidentally interesting to note that
nearly every engraver of worth became emulous at one time or another of the painter’s
effects, and that almost every experiment in engraving was followed by an attempt to get
colour into the work by direct methods. In order, therefore, to trace the progress of
colour-printing, it is essential not to lose sight of the steps of the engraver ; and, although
engraving and colour-printing never really met successfully until the stipple joined them,
the dream of such a happy union was the mirage in the sandy desert of the years between
the Renaissance and the eighteenth century, actuating alike the chiaroscurist and the
printer.
One sees an art through the medium of a temperament, and mine being rather
imaginative than studious, the personalities of these old engravers and colour-printers have
sometimes engrossed my attention and interest to the exclusion of the obscure points
raised by different writers as to the exact month, in the exact year, in which they
made their various experiments. Like Mr. Whistler, I have little sympathy with the art
critic who considers a date an accomplishment, and is satisfied when he has filed the
fifteenth century and pigeon-holed the antique.
It is for this reason that the early specimens of engraving, stipple-engraving, and
colour-printing have appeared to me as so many illustrations of the histories of the
Cunios, of Giulio Campagnola and Ottavio Leoni, of Ugo da Carpi, Andreani, and Teyler.
I have skimmed the pages of the authorities above quoted, and culled from them that
which has guided me as to the order of the following pages. But I have not blindly
B