Unrelenting Realist

No artist ever sketched the horrors of war more powerfully than Francisco Goya, but the pioneer in the field--and a first-rate one--was a man who lived nearly 200 years earlier. Last week Jacques Callot's 18 etchings on The Miseries and Misfortunes of War were on display in Frankfurt, leading off an exhibition that bore the single-word title "Krieg." Goya was often lurid; Callot proves an exponent of unrelenting realism. Now honored as the "Father of French Etching," Callot was widely respected in his own day. Rembrandt owned a complete portfolio of his etchings, and some of Rembrandt's early work bears a strong resemblance to Callot's. Later, Hogarth was an avid collector; such diverse notables as Goethe and Sir Walter Scott were admirers; and Anatole France remembered having dreams about Callot's graphic nightmares. In the last movement of his first symphony, Gustav Mahler included a Funeral March in Callot's Manner.

Callot was born to a noble family in Nancy about 1592, and after a rather turbulent childhood (he is said to have run away from home at the age of twelve to join a band of gypsies), finally landed at the court of the Medici in Florence, where he was given a studio and the privilege of eating at the page boys' table. By the time he returned to Nancy in 1621, he was a celebrated artist. By using a hard varnish on his plates, he was able to eliminate lines and create others at will. His etchings were sometimes little bigger than a postage stamp, sometimes about the size of a modern postcard. Peering through a magnifying glass that Galileo had given him, Callot was able to fill them with an incredible amount of detail. He did his share of portraits to please his patrons, but the entire baroque procession, in all its motley moods, was his province. There were simpering courtiers and crippled beggars, bustling plazas, horse races, duels and card games--all done on a Lilliputian scale. Yet crowds soared across his tiny stage, mountains loomed in the distance, vast armadas spread out for maneuvers--and every tiny detail was clear.

When Richelieu decided to take over the duchy of Lorraine, the army of France marched on Nancy, and after a cruel struggle the city fell in 1633. It was this that inspired the Miseries and Misfortunes of War. At a time when war was considered heroic, Callot showed it as it was. His series begins with a majestic parade and then a savage combat scene wreathed in smoke. But the horror is in the aftermath. Churches go up in flames, men are set on fire in their castles, tiny firing squads claim victim after victim, a man is broken on a wheel, 21 corpses hang from a single tree. Callot's etchings are too small to roar with rage, but all the brutality is there, etched in acid fury.

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