So, what's this book actually about? Don't let the formal Portuguese title scare you off. A gravura em Portugal: breves apontamentos para a sua história (which translates to Engraving in Portugal: Brief Notes for Its History) is exactly what it says on the tin. It's a compact, pioneering guide written in the 1890s. There's no fictional plot, but there is a clear mission: to map the unknown territory of Portuguese printmaking.

The Story

Think of Viterbo as an explorer setting out into uncharted waters. Before he wrote this, the history of engraving in Portugal was a scattered, poorly documented mess. Artists who worked with copper plates and woodblocks were often seen as mere craftsmen, not 'real' artists, and their names were lost. Viterbo's 'story' is his journey of rediscovery. He organizes his findings like a guidebook, starting from the earliest known examples in the 16th century and moving forward. He introduces us to a parade of engravers—some famous, most completely obscure—and talks about their techniques, their major works, and the challenges they faced. He shows how engraving was used for everything from religious prints and book illustrations to maps and portraits. The narrative is his effort to connect these dots and build a proper timeline, creating a foundation where almost none existed.

Why You Should Read It

You should read it for the passion. Viterbo isn't a detached academic; he's an advocate. You can feel his frustration at the lack of records and his excitement with every new name he uncovers. Reading it today is like looking over the shoulder of the very first person to try and solve a puzzle. It’s raw, foundational history. You get a real sense of how historical research was done over a century ago—relying on personal observation, archival digging, and a lot of educated guesswork. More than that, it reframes how you look at art. After reading Viterbo's notes, you’ll never see an old print as just a picture; you'll start wondering about the hand that carved the plate, the society that needed it, and the history that almost forgot them.

Final Verdict

This is a niche book, but a wonderfully important one. It's perfect for history buffs, art students, or anyone with deep roots in Portuguese culture who wants to understand a forgotten corner of its artistic heritage. It's not a casual beach read, but for the right person, it's a treasure. Think of it as the essential, slightly dusty first volume on the shelf—the one all later, glossier books about Portuguese art reference. If you're curious about how history gets written in the first place, or if you just love a good story about rescuing the past from oblivion, Viterbo's brief notes are a compelling and humble place to start.