So little is known concerning Pierre-Philippe Choffard himself, that it is difficult to give many facts about his life or even to state with confidence that the year 1730 is that of the great artist’s birth, since Heinecken gives 1729 and other writers mention 1736 as being the date.

Pierre-Philippe’s artistic talent was perceptible at a very early age, for when his father died, leaving wife and child impecunious, we hear that the little boy of ten was in the habit of amusing himself by making floral and conventional designs on the margins of his books, or more probably exercise-books, considering his parents had, evidently, never possessed large means and all literature was somewhat costly in those days. The widow, at that time, suffered business losses which caused her to take young Choffard away from the school he attended, and she wisely placed him in the studio of Dheulland who was an engraver of maps, plans, and other geometrical drawings. No doubt the rising genius found this kind of engraving very wearisome, and to make his work more congenial, he ornamented the borders, in which the maps were framed, with his own unique designs.

The boy is also said to have been aided by lessons from Nicolas Edelinck, who was very old; also from Balechou and Cochin; or, may be, the example of these artists’ works emulated the youth. While yet juvenile Choffard received tuition from Babel, an engraver of decorative ornamentation. Pierre-Philippe’s style and charm of drawing, however, were formed by himself alone, and no master before or since his time has excelled Choffard in the airy atmospheric vitality he imparts into all his magic pencil has chosen to portray, either in the realms of fantasy, in the realities of still life, or even in the rendering of that which his colleagues designed.

The artist must have had as much charm of personality as his achievements had of originality; indeed, it is remarkable to find that whenever his name appears, in memoirs or elsewhere, only good epithets are applied to this self-made artist, who had no social standing and yet was appointed draughtsman and engraver to the Imperial court and to the Spanish throne, whilst the rulers of his native land appear to have given Choffard no post, although he was member of several academies.

When one glances at the views of Prague and the little engravings of English and Scottish towns, it makes one wonder whether he ever travelled abroad, or if Choffard executed these vignettes from other artists’ drawings without stating so. From his “Notice sur l’art de la gravure,” which the draughtsman published a few years before his death, it would appear that he never crossed the Channel, or Choffard would have mentioned his personal experience, instead of giving that of friends, but it cannot be positively asserted that the artist never traversed the French frontier.

Ponce tells us that should some friend of Choffard’s evince difficulty in drawing any portion of a composition in perspective, or if the decoration of a plate proved troublesome and they chanced to ask his advice: “Bring me your work,” he would good naturedly say, “and leave it with me so that I may consider it at leisure.” The friend, on his return, could be positive of finding the difficulty overcome. And was Choffard often known to accept adequate, if any, remuneration for such work? We can draw our own conclusions, knowing his generous character.

His company was enjoyed and appreciated by the most illustrious contemporary painters and engravers, and Wille mentions meeting Choffard in company with de Launay, Lempereur, and Saint-Aubin on one occasion, and another day Choffard, Flipart, Chardin, Roslin, and Vien dined at the same table as Wille. Billiards was a pastime our artist much enjoyed, and on one occasion, when he and his intimate friend Basan and Bervic were staying with Miger at Bagneux, the host’s three guests stayed up all one Saturday night playing billiards. Miger amused himself by celebrating the incident in the following lines:

If a sketching party were arranged, naturally the popular artist was included among its members. Little surprising is it that his popularity increased as steadily as his fame flourished, for this is the state in which an eye-witness describes him arriving at a friend’s country home, with “le petit pain en poche pour le dogue de la porte, les gimblettes pour le petit chien, les bonbons pour les enfants, les fleurs ou le flacon pour la maÎtresse de la maison et le gros Écu pour les domÉstiques.” What artist’s means could stave such a flow of generosity? Is it because the giver always saw the bottom of his purse that his name appears as engraver of mechanical drawings such as those in Berthoud’s “Essai sur l’horlogerie,” and sometimes as the reproducer of brother artist's inferior designs? Yet another cause prevented the greatest “graveur de l’accessoire” from accumulating means—he loved art so passionately that no time, no remuneration, no trouble, no patience, and no difficulties were considered; his work’s success was Choffard’s only thought.

It is interesting to notice how keen the artist was that the plates should be satisfactorily printed on a special kind of paper for an edition of “Les trois femmes.” The long letter relating to this happens to be in existence, and no doubt many another, even more lengthy and detailed, was written by Choffard, who generously dealt out valuable advice to author and publisher. In this instance, as no doubt in all Choffard’s correspondence, the proposals he makes are worded so tactfully as to leave the reader under the impression that the artist is quite willing for his advice to be disregarded. Choffard’s sensitive refinement must indeed have been visible in many ways besides in his art.

Although “enfant des quaies,” as he called himself, yet this self-educated genius had innate refinement and possessed a marvellous power of discrimination and judgement how best to treat delicate passages, intricate subjects, and uninteresting themes, whether the composition had to be confined to the minute dimensions of a tiny fleuron or whether the subject was to occupy a folio page.

“Notice sur l’art de la gravure en France” came from the pen of Choffard. The engraver resented his own art lacking an historian, and therefore became its champion. Had not voluminous books been published on painting and sculpture, yet the sister art had only incidental remarks passed upon it? To fill this void, there appeared in 1804 a little volume written concisely by an eminently capable judge of the talents of past and contemporary engravers. Choffard shows remarkable fairness in dealing with draughtsmen of different styles, of many lands, and of varied temperaments, and is broad-minded in all matters where our countrymen are not concerned. It is only natural that a Frenchman should look on his British neighbours with a frown in the eventful year when Napoleon was elected emperor! Great as were Choffard’s anti-British prejudices, it must be admitted that they did not prevent him from praising the talent of Ryland, and of mentioning the names of many other British engravers. Now and again, in perusing the pages of the little book, one alights on a date which is at variance with our modern historians’ statements, a fact that is hardly worthy of mention, considering exactitude troubled eighteenth-century writers far less than it does contemporary biographers in these scientific days.

The charming vignette Choffard executed for his volume is said, by some, to represent the artist, as a young man, in his studio and would suffice to make the book live and be collected, whatever may be its literary merits or demerits. It is curious to note that a host of the artist’s illustrations are contained in works wholly unworthy of Choffard’s great results, or else they illustrate literature that is very little read in modern times.

Pierre-Philippe Choffard was an exceptionally prolific artist, and, as has been said before, loved his work passionately. An hour before his death he still had his thoughts bent on art and sent to fetch paper on which to draw a reduction of a picture by Legrand. The dying artist had formed the resolution to write a more extensive work than his first successful “Notice” on the art of engraving, and this reduced plate would have been contained within its pages had fate been kinder.

On the seventh day of the month of March in the year 1809 the world lost its greatest “maÎtre ornemaniste” by the death of Pierre-Philippe Choffard.

The eighteenth century was a period when letter-writing, diaries, and memoirs were greatly in vogue; yet rarely on these milestones of the past appears the name of Choffard, proving how uneventful must have been his life. Notwithstanding this probable fact, we cannot but regret that our artist did not leave his life impressions, which would have been full of interest, since he met and associated with all the leading talent of his day.