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.

Eaux-fortes and proofs before letters of Choffard’s plates exist in almost every instance, and they command a much greater price than impressions after letters. Naturally first proofs are usually far more brilliant than later ones and are deservedly prized by collectors. Nevertheless a prohibitive value is frequently placed on certain rare states and on scarce eaux-fortes, which makes one realize how true Seymour Haden’s remark is, when applied to this case: “First comes the biographer and cataloguer with wearisome precision to describe different states of a plate and then the dealer to persuade that the first two of these ‘states’ are worth three times more money than the perfected plate; a grave misconception.” From the artist’s point of view, undoubtedly, this is an absurd misconception, but a collector or a student naturally regards the various stages of the masterpiece’s progress as an interesting adjunct to the enjoyment and appreciation of the finished work.

The book known as the “Fermiers gÉnÉraux” edition of the “Contes et nouvelles en vers,” by La Fontaine, is justly regarded as containing some of the most beautiful examples of Choffard’s work, for every little picture, so different in theme, is a revelation of the artist’s extraordinary powers. There is tender love for his art in every stroke that caressingly models the allegorical figures whose graceful contours repose on transparent clouds, also in the floral designs, minute genre pictures bordered by drapery and flowers, and in a medal with the artist’s portrait amidst garlands and clouds and a multitude of other picturesque combinations that are contained within the two volumes. But perhaps the most ingenious little vignettes are those that treat of commonplace things, of vulgar, raw substances such as a piece of meat or dead fish in a net. The subjects sound almost repulsive; there are not even the beautiful hues of the rainbow trout to relieve the coarseness and crudeness of the subject! It is in cases such as these that Choffard’s unique talents are forcibly apparent, for instantly one admires the little pictures, regardless of the subject which is represented so attractively as to form an artistic composition.

“Le jugement de Paris” and the two editions of “Les Saisons” also contain well-known illustrations by Choffard. These latter are usually considered to rank among his “chef-d’oeuvres,” although it seems doubtful whether they equal his real masterpieces. They appear to represent the subjects in cameo form, whereas the little medallions just fail to give that effect, thus leaving us to decide for ourselves the meaning of the deep shadow outlining the small figures.

The words “plan of London” convey no idea of an artistic illustration, and yet Choffard executed a delightful vignette with the metropolis’ highways, streets, houses, and river distinctly mapped out in the centre of an ornamental frame. Berthoud was fortunate when he obtained a charming fleuron by Choffard for his “Histoire de la mesure du temps par les horloges,” for who but the “maÎtre ornemaniste” would have succeeded in forming a delightful “ensemble” with rectangular clocks and scientific instruments?

The little battle scenes which illustrate “PrÉjugÉs militaires” are exquisitely composed, and are excellent examples of the delicacy and depth with which Choffard etched. His talents in this line are also exceptionally remarkable in the head-piece containing Basan’s engraved portrait, which forms the centre of the composition, on each side of which are the great publisher’s studio and study.

In the pages of “L’histoire de la maison de Bourbon” Choffard’s genius shines forth with brilliant vigour. Each tail-piece, so similar in subject yet very different in design, is an allegorical composition aptly illustrating the chapter it terminates. When these fleurons and tail-pieces are in proof and the complete impression of the copper-plate is shown, there are words engraved “À la pointe” on the extreme top edge of the plate. In a few cases they only note the volume and page in the book that the picture is to occupy, but above the proof of the tail-piece here reproduced are the words:

“To^e. V. Page 354 La Perfidie entoure de pieges les Armes de France et de Navarre, et elle s’efforce d’eloigner Bourbon du Trone, agitÉ de fureur, le fanatisme employe contre ce Prince le fer, et le poison.” (In the original, as quoted, many accents are omitted.)

There appear to be no proofs in an earlier state than with these letters “À la pointe,” or if any exist, they are practically unique.

One of the five fleurons by Choffard for Rousseau’s works is reproduced in this book, and is here followed by the same illustration with the figure draped. This latter is a later state and was never published nor is it cited in any catalogue. Plates in the early state are frequently encountered with points differing from the final ones, due, no doubt, to the artist, author, or publisher wishing for some alteration in the design; these differences are at times very perceptible and at others hardly noticeable. It also sometimes happens that the earlier state was selected for publication, as in this case.

Could there be any more appropriate conclusion to this chapter than Baron Roger Portalis’ just eulogy on Choffard’s art?

“Son exÉcution est brillante et prÉcieuse, son burin À la fois ferme, transparent et lÉger; s’il a rarement ÉtÉ chargÉ de la composition des principaux sujets dans les grandes illustrations des ouvrages de son temps, et si sa collaboration n’a guÈre ÉtÉ que le complÉment des travaux des Eisen, des Moreau, des Cochin, des Monnet, il faut dire que le complÉment a singuliÈrement fait valoir et quelquefois fait pÂlir l’oeuvre principale. Du reste, il a souvent interprÉtÉ ses grands collaborateurs avec un art, une fidÉlitÉ et une richesse de tons dont ils dÛ Être fort satisfaits, et on peut rÉpÉter de lui ce beau titre qui lui a ÉtÉ donnÉ jadis de graveur coloriste.” Those who to-day look upon Choffard’s work in an unprejudiced light cannot do otherwise than feel the force of the above words and re-echo them from their hearts.