MASTERPIECES IN COLOUR

EDITED BY T. LEMAN HARE

In the Same Series

Artist. Author. VELAZQUEZ. S. L. Bensusan. REYNOLDS. S. L. Bensusan. TURNER. C. Lewis Hind. ROMNEY. C. Lewis Hind. GREUZE. Alys Eyke Macklin. BOTTICELLI. Henry B. Binns. ROSSETTI. Lucien Pissarro. BELLINI. George Hay. FRA ANGELICO. James Mason. LEIGHTON. A. Lys Baldry. REMBRANDT. Josef Israels. WATTS. W. Loftus Hare. TITIAN. S. L. Bensusan. RAPHAEL. Paul G. Konody. 

_Others in Preparation. _

[Illustration: PLATE 1. --SUZANNA VAN COLLEN

This portrait, painted about 1633, and one of the gems of the WallaceCollection, presents Susanna van Collen, wife of Jan Pellicorne, and herdaughter. ]

REMBRANDT

BY JOSEF ISRAELS

ILLUSTRATED WITH EIGHTREPRODUCTIONS IN COLOUR

LONDON: T. C. & E. C. JACKNEW YORK: FREDERICK A. STOKES CO. 

The plates are printed by Bemrose Dalziel, Ltd. , Watford

The text at the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PlateI. Suzanna Van Collen Frontispiece From the Wallace Collection

 PageII. A Portrait of Saskia 14 In the Brera, Milan

III. Syndics of the Cloth Merchants' Guild 24 In the Royal Museum at Amsterdam

IV. Portrait of an Old Man 34 In the Pitti Palace at Florence

V. The Company of Francis Banning Cocq 40 In the Royal Museum at Amsterdam

VI. Portrait of a Young Man 50 In the Pitti Palace at Florence

VII. Portrait of an Old Lady 60 From the National Gallery, London

VIII. Head of a Young Man 70 In the Louvre

INTRODUCTION

While the world pays respectful tribute to Rembrandt the artist, it hasbeen compelled to wait until comparatively recent years for some smallmeasure of reliable information concerning Rembrandt the man. Thesixteenth and seventeenth centuries seem to have been very littleconcerned with personalities. A man was judged by his work whichappealed, if it were good enough, to an ever-increasing circle. Therewere no newspapers to record his doings and, if he chanced to be anartist, it was nobody's business to set down the details of his life. Sometimes a diarist chanced to pass by and to jot down a little gossip, quite unconscious of the fact that it would serve to stimulategenerations yet unborn, but, for the most part, artists who did greatwork in a retiring fashion and were not honoured by courts and princesas Rubens was, passed from the scene of their labours with all thedetails of their sojourn unrecorded. 

Rembrandt was fated to suffer more than mere neglect, for he seems tohave been a light-hearted, headstrong, extravagant man, with nocapacity for business. He had not even the supreme quality, associatedin doggerel with Dutchmen, of giving too little and asking too much. Consequently, when he died poor and enfeebled, in years when hiscollection of works of fine art had been sold at public auction for afraction of its value, when his pictures had been seized for debt, andwife, mistress, children, and many friends had passed, little was saidabout him. It was only when the superlative quality of his art wasrecognised beyond a small circle of admirers that people began to gatherup such fragments of biography as they could find. 

Shakespeare has put into Mark Antony's mouth the statement that "theevil that men do lives after them, " and this was very much the case withRembrandt van Ryn. His first biographers seem to have no memory savefor his undoubted recklessness, his extravagance, and his debts. Theyremembered that his pictures fetched very good prices, that his studiowas besieged for some years by more sitters than it could accommodate, that he was honoured with commissions from the ruling house, and that inshort, he had every chance that would have led a good business man toprosperity and an old age removed from stress and strain. These factsseem to have aroused their ire. They have assailed his memory withinvective that does not stop short at false statement. They have foundin the greatest of all Dutch artists a ne'er-do-well who could not takeadvantage of his opportunities, who had the extravagance of a companypromoter, an explosive temper and all the instincts that make for looseliving. 

[Illustration: PLATE II. --A PORTRAIT OF SASKIA

Rembrandt's portraits of his wife Saskia are distributed fairly equallythroughout the world's great galleries, but this one from the Brera inMilan is not so well known as most, and on this account it is reproducedhere. It is called "Portrait of a Woman" in the catalogue, but thefeatures justify the belief that the lady was the painter's wife. ]

Alas for these poor biographers, who, had they but taken the trouble totrust to the pictures rather than to the lies that were current, wouldhave seen that the artist's life could not have been nearly as bad asthey imagined. Happily, to-day, we have more than the testimony of thepainted canvas, though that would suffice the most of intelligent men. Further investigation has done a great deal to remove the blemishes fromRembrandt's name; MM. Vosmaer and Michel have restored it as though itwere a discoloured picture, and those who hail Rembrandt master may doso without mental reservation. His faults were very human ones and hismerits leave them in the shade. 

Rembrandt was born in the pleasant city of Leyden, but it is not easy toname the precise year. Somewhere between 1604 and 1607 he started histroubled journey through life, and of his childhood the records arescanty. Doubtless, his youthful imagination was stirred by the sights ofthe city, the barges moving slowly along the canals, the windmills thatwere never at rest, the changing chiaroscuro of the flooded, dyke-seamedland. Perhaps he saw these things with the large eye of the artist, forhe could not have turned to any point of the compass without finding apicture lying ready for treatment. Even when he was a little boy thefascination of his surroundings may have been responsible in part forthe fact that he was not an industrious scholar, that he looked uponreading and writing as rather troublesome accomplishments, worth lessthan the labour involved in their acquisition. And yet his father was awealthy man, he would seem to have had no occasion to neglect hisstudies, and the best one can find to say about these early years isthat they may have been directed badly by those in authority. In anycase, it is well-nigh impossible to make rules for genius. The boy whosits unmoved at the bottom of his class, the butt of his companions, thehorrible example to whom the master turns when he wishes to point amoral, may do work in the world that no one among those who attended theschool since its foundation has been able to accomplish and, ifRembrandt did not satisfy his masters, he was at least paving the wayfor accomplishment that is recognised gratefully to-day wherever art hasfound a home. 

His family soon knew that he had the makings of an artist and, in 1620, when he could hardly have been more than sixteen, and may have beenconsiderably less, he left Leyden University for the studio of asecond-rate painter called Jan van Swanenburch. We have no authenticrecord of his progress in the studio, but it must have been rapid. Hemust have made friends, painted pictures, and attracted attention. Atthe end of three years he went to Lastman's studio in Amsterdam, returning thence to Leyden, where he took Gerard Dou as a pupil. A fewyears later, it is not easy to settle these dates on a satisfactorybasis, he went to Amsterdam, and established himself there, because theDutch capital was very wealthy and held many patrons of the arts, inspite of the seemingly endless war that Holland was waging with Spain. 

The picture of "St. Paul in Prison" would seem to have been producedabout 1627, but the painter's appearance before the public of Amsterdamin the guise of an accomplished artist whose work had to be reckonedwith, may be said to have dated from the completion of the famous"Anatomy Lesson, " in 1631 or 1632. At this time he was living on theBloemgracht. Rembrandt had painted many portraits when the picture ofthe medical men and the cadaver created a great sensation and, if weremember that he could not have been more than twenty-seven years old, and may have been no more than twenty-five, it is not difficult tounderstand that Amsterdam was stirred from its usual reserve, andgreeted the rising star with enthusiasm. In a few weeks the entrance tothe painter's studio was besieged by people wishing to sit for theirportraits, by pupils who brought 100 florins, no small sum in those daysfor the privilege of working for a year in the master's studio. It maybe mentioned here that even in the days when the painter's popularitywith the general public of Holland had waned, there was never any lackof enthusiastic students from many countries, all clamouring foradmission to the studio. 

Many a man can endure adversity with courage; success is a greatertrial. Bad times often avail to bring out what is best in creativegenius; success tends to destroy it. Rembrandt did not remain unaffectedby the quick response that Amsterdam made to his genius. His artremained true and sincere, he declined to make the smallest concessionto what silly sitters called their taste, but he did not really knowwhat to do with the money and commissions that flowed in upon him sofreely. The best use he made of changing circumstances was to becomeengaged to Saskia van Uylenborch, the cousin of his great friendHendrick van Uylenborch, the art dealer of Amsterdam. Saskia, who wasdestined to live for centuries, through the genius of her husband, seemsto have been born in 1612, and to have become engaged to Rembrandt whenshe was twenty. The engagement followed very closely upon the patronageof Rembrandt by Prince Frederic Henry, the Stadtholder, who instructedthe artist to paint three pictures. There seemed no longer any need tohesitate, and only domestic troubles seem to have delayed the marriageuntil 1634. Saskia is enshrined in many pictures. She is seen first as ayoung girl, then as a woman. As a bride, in the picture now at Dresden, she sits upon her husband's knee, while he raises a big glass with hisoutstretched arm. Her expression here is rather shy, as if shedeprecated the situation and realised that it might be misconstrued. This picture gave offence to Rembrandt's critics, who declared that itrevealed the painter's taste for strong drink and riotous living--theycould see nothing more in canvas than a story. Several portraits ofSaskia remained to be painted. She would seem to have aged rapidly, forafter marriage her days were not long in the land. She was only thirtywhen she died, and looked considerably older. 

[Illustration: PLATE III. --SYNDICS OF THE CLOTH MERCHANTS' GUILD

This fine work, of which so much has been written, is to be seen to-dayin the Royal Museum at Amsterdam. It is one of the finest examples ofthe master's portrait groups, and was painted in 1661. ]

In the first years of his married life Rembrandt moved to the NieuweDoelstraat. For the time he had more commissions than he knew how toexecute, few troubles save those that his fiery temperament provoked, and one great sorrow, arising out of the death of his first-born. Therecan be no doubt at all that he spent far too much money in these years;he would attend the sales of works of art and pay extravagant sums forany that took his fancy. If he ever paused to question himself, he wouldbe content to explain that he paid big prices in order to show how greatwas his respect for art and artists. He came to acquire a picture byRubens, a book of drawings by Lucas van Leyden, and the splendid pearlsthat may be seen in the later portraits of Saskia. Very soon his rashand reckless methods became known to the dealers, who would push theprices up with the certain knowledge that Rembrandt would rush in wherewiser buyers feared to tread. The making of an art collection, thepurchase of rich jewels for his wife, together with good and open-handedliving, soon began to play havoc with Rembrandt's estate. The artist'stemperament offended many of the sober Dutchmen who could not understandit at all, his independence and insistence upon the finality of his ownjudgment were more offensive still, and after 1636 there were fewerapplications for portraits. 

In 1638 we find Rembrandt taking an action against one Albert van Loo, who had dared to call Saskia extravagant. It was, of course, still moreextravagant of Rembrandt to waste his money on lawyers on account of acase he could not hope to win, but this thought does not seem to havetroubled him. He did not reflect that it would set the gossips talkingmore cruelly than ever. Still full of enthusiasm for life and art, hewas equally full of affection for Saskia, whose hope of raising childrenseemed doomed to disappointment, for in addition to losing the littleRombertus, two daughters, each named Cornelia, had died soon afterbirth. In 1640 Rembrandt's mother died. Her picture remains on recordwith that of her husband, painted ten years before, and even thebiographers of the artist do not suggest that Rembrandt was anything buta good son. A year later the well-beloved Saskia gave birth to the onechild who survived the early years, the boy Titus. Then her healthfailed, and in 1642 she died, after eight years of married life thatwould seem to have been happy. In this year Rembrandt painted the famous"Night Watch, " a picture representing the company of Francis BanningCocq, and incidentally a day scene in spite of its popular name. Thework succeeded in arousing a storm of indignation, for every sitterwanted to have equal prominence in the canvas. They had subscribedequally to the cost, and Rembrandt had dared to compose the picture!

It may be said that after his wife's death, and the exhibition of thisfine work, Rembrandt's pleasant years came to an end. He was thensomewhere between thirty-six and thirty-eight years old, he had made hismark, and enjoyed a very large measure of recognition, but henceforward, his career was destined to be a very troubled one, full ofdisappointment, pain, and care. Perhaps it would have been no bad thingfor him if he could have gone with Saskia into the outer darkness. Theworld would have been poorer, but the man himself would have been sparedmany years that perhaps even the devoted labours of his studio could notredeem. 

Saskia's estate, which seems to have been a considerable one, was leftto Rembrandt absolutely, in trust for the sole surviving child Titus, but Rembrandt, after his usual free and easy fashion, did not troubleabout the legal side of the question. He did not even make an inventoryof the property belonging to his wife, and this carelessness led toendless trouble in future years, and to the distribution of a great partof the property into the hands of gentlemen learned in the law. Perhapsthe painter had other matters to think about, he could no longerdisguise from himself the fact that public patronage was falling off. Itmay be that the war with Spain was beginning to make people incomfortable circumstances retrench, but it is more than likely that theartist's name was not known favourably to his fellow-citizens. Hispassionate temperament and his quick eye for truly artistic effectscould not be tolerated by the sober, stodgy men and women who were therank and file of Amsterdam's comfortable classes. To be sure, theStadtholder continued his patronage; he ordered the famous"Circumcision" and the "Adoration of the Shepherds. " Pupils continued toarrive, too, in large numbers, many of them coming from beyond Holland;but the public stayed away. 

Rembrandt was not without friends, who helped him as far as they could, and advised him as much as they dared; but he seems to have been a manwho could not be assisted, because in matters of art he allowed nooutside interference, and he was naturally impulsive. Money ran throughhis hands like water through a sieve, though it is only fair to pointout that he was very generous, and could not lend a deaf ear to any taleof distress. 

Between 1642, when Saskia died, and 1649, it is not easy to follow theprogress of his life; we can only state with certainty that hisdifficulties increased almost as quickly as his work ripened. Hisconnection with Hendrickje Stoffels would seem to have started about1649, and this woman with whom he lived until her death some thirteenyears later, has been abused by many biographers because she was thepainter's mistress. Some have endeavoured to prove, without anyevidence, that he married her, but this concession to Mrs. Grundy seemsa little beside the mark. The relations between the pair were a matterfor their own consideration, and it is clear that Hendrickje came to thepainter in the time of his greatest trouble, to serve him lovingly andfaithfully until she passed away at the comparatively early age ofthirty-six. 

She bore him two children, who seem to have died young, and, curiouslyenough, her position in the house was accepted by young Titus Rembrandt, who, when he was nearing man's estate, started, in partnership with her, to deal in pictures and works of art--a not very successful attempt tosupport the establishment in comfort. 

In the year when Hendrickje joined Rembrandt, he could no longer payinstalments on the house he had bought for himself in the JodenBreestraat. About the following year he began to sell property, hopingagainst hope that he would be able to tide over the bad times. Threeyears later he started borrowing on a very extensive scale. In 1656 afresh guardian was appointed for Titus, to whom his father transferredsome property, and in that year the painter was adjudged bankrupt. Theyear 1657 saw much of his private property sold, but his collection ofpictures and engravings found comparatively few bidders, and realised nomore than 5000 florins. A year later his store of pictures came underthe hammer, and in 1660, Hendrickje and Titus started their pluckyattempt to establish a little business, in order that they might restoresome small part of the family fortune. 

[Illustration: PLATE IV. --PORTRAIT OF AN OLD MAN

Rembrandt painted very many portraits of men and women whose identitycannot be traced, and it is probable that the original of this strikingportrait in the Pitti Palace at Florence was unknown to many of thepainter's contemporaries. This is one of Rembrandt's late works, and issaid to have been painted about 1658. ]

For a little time the keen edge of trouble seems to have been turned. One of Rembrandt's friends secured him the commission to paint the"Syndics of the Drapers' Guild, " and this is one of the last works ofimportance in the artist's life, because his sight was beginning tofail. To understand why this fresh trouble fell upon him, it isnecessary to turn for a moment to consider the marvellous etchings heproduced between 1628 and 1661. The drawings may be disregarded in thisconnection, though there are about a thousand undisputed ones inexistence, but the making of the etchings, of which some two hundred areallowed by all competent observers to be the work of the master, musthave inflicted enormous strain upon his sight. When he was passing frommiddle age, overwhelmed with trouble of every description, it is notsurprising that his eyes should have refused to serve him any longer. 

One might have thought that the immortals had finished their sport withRembrandt, but apparently their resources are quite inexhaustible. Oneyear after the state of his eyes had brought etching to an end, thefaithful Hendrickje died. A portrait of her, one of the last of themaster's works, may be seen in Berlin. The face is a charming andsympathetic one, and moves the observer to a feeling of sympathy thatmakes the mere question of the Church's participation in her relationswith Rembrandt a very small affair indeed. 

In the next seven years the old painter passed quietly down towards thegreat silence. A few ardent admirers among the young men, a few oldfriends whom no adversity could shake, remained to bring such comfort asthey might. With failing sight and health he moved to the Lauriergracht, and the capacity for work came nearly to an end. The lawyers made merrywith the various suits. Some had been instituted to recover money thatthe painter had borrowed, others to settle the vexed question of thecreditors' right to Saskia's estate. In 1665 Titus received the balancethat was left, when the decision of the courts allowed him to handlewhat legal ingenuity had not been able to impound. 

In the summer of 1668, when he was about twenty-seven years old, Titusmarried his cousin Magdellena, and this little celebration may besupposed to have cheered the elder Rembrandt a little, but his pleasurewas brief, for the young bridegroom died in September of the same year, and in the following year a posthumous daughter was born. 

By this time the immortals had completed their task, there was nothingleft for them to do; they had broken the old painter's health and hisheart, they had reduced him to poverty. So they gave him half a year todigest their gifts, and then some word of pity seems to have enteredinto their councils, and one of the greatest painters the world has seenwas set free from the intolerable burden of life. From certain documentsstill extant we learn that he was buried at the expense of thirteenflorins. He has left to the world some five or six hundred pictures thatare admitted to be genuine, together with the etchings and drawings towhich reference has been made. He is to be seen in many galleries in theOld World and the New, for he painted his own portrait more than a scoreof times. Saskia, too, may be seen in several galleries and Hendrickjehas not been forgotten. 

[Illustration: PLATE V. --THE COMPANY OF FRANCIS BANNING COCQ

Generally known as the "Night Watch. " This famous picture, now to beseen in the Royal Museum at Amsterdam, is the best discussed of all themaster's works. It has been pointed out that it is in reality a dayscene although it is known to most people as the "Night Watch. " Thepicture was painted in 1642. ]

There is no doubt that many of Rembrandt's troubles were self-inflicted;but his punishment was largely in excess of his sins. His pictures maybe admired in nearly all great public collections; they are distributed, too, among private galleries. Rembrandt's art has found a welcome in allcountries. We know now that part of his temporary unpopularity inHolland was due to the fact that he was far in advance of his own time, that the conventions of lesser men repelled him, and he was perhaps alittle too vigorous in the expression of his opinions. Now, in the yearswhen the voice of fame cannot reach him and his worst detractors aresilent, he is set on a pedestal by the side of Velazquez and Titian. 

REMBRANDT

AN APPRECIATION OF THE PICTURES IN AMSTERDAM

Will the reader turn away with a shrug of the shoulder, when he sees, heading this essay, the famous name that we hear so often?

I feel like one sitting among friends at a banquet, and though many ofthe guests have expressed and analysed the same feelings in differenttoasts, I will not be restrained from expressing, in my turn, my delightin the festive gathering. I touch my glass to ensure a hearing, and Ispeak as my heart prompts me. It is not very important or interesting, but I am speaking in praise of him in whose honour the feast is given. 

In this frame of mind I am contributing my little share to the pile ofwritten matter, which has been produced from all quarters, in honour ofthe great painter. 

I

Many years ago I went to Amsterdam as an art student, to be trainedunder the auspices of the then famous portrait painter Kruseman. Verysoon I was admitted to the master's studio, and beheld with admirationthe portraits of the distinguished personages he was painting at thetime. 

The pink flesh-tints of the faces, the delicate treatment of thedraperies and dresses, more often than not standing out against abackground of dark red velvet, attracted me immensely. 

When, however, I expressed a desire to be allowed to copy some of theseportraits, the master refused my request. "No, " he said; "if you want tocopy, go to the museum in the 'Trippenhuis. '"[1]

I dared not show the bitter disappointment this refusal caused me. Having come fresh from the country, the old masters were a sealed bookto me. I failed to discover any beauty in the homely, old-fashionedscenes of dark landscapes over which people went into ecstasies. To myuntrained eyes the exhibition in "Arti"[2] seemed infinitely morebeautiful; and Pieneman, Gallait, Calame, and Koekoek especially excitedmy admiration. 

I was not really lacking in artistic instinct any more than myfellow-students, but I had not yet gained the experience and practice, which are indispensable to the true understanding of the quaint buthighly artistic qualities of the old Dutch masters. I maintain thathowever intelligent a man may be, it is impossible to appreciate oldDutch art to the full, or even to enjoy it, unless one has becomethoroughly familiar with it, and has tried to identify oneself with it. In order to be able to sound the real character and depth ofmanifestations of art, the artistic sensibility has to be trained anddeveloped. 

It was long before I could summon up sufficient courage to enter thisHoly of Holies armed with my colours and brushes. Indeed I only startedon this venture after a long spell of hard work, out-of-doors as well asin the studio, and after having made many studies from the nude, andmany more still-life studies; then a light broke in upon my darkness. 

I began to understand at last that the true aim of art does not consistin the smooth and delicate plastering of the colours. I realised that mychief study was to be the exact value of light and shade, the relief ofthe objects, and the attitude, movements, and gestures of the figures. 

Having learned to look upon art from this point of view, I entered theold "Trippenhuis" with pleasure. Little by little the beauty and truthof these admirable old masters dawned upon me. I perceived that theirsimple subjects grew rich and full of meaning through the manner inwhich they were treated. The artists were geniuses, and the world aroundthem either ignored the fact, or did not see it until too late. 

Knowing little of art, I chose for my first copy a small canvas, a"Hermit" by Gerard Dou, not understanding that, though small, it mightcontain qualities which would prove too difficult for me to imitate. Ihad to work it over and over again, for I could not get any shape in thethick, sticky paint. Then I tried a head by Van der Helst, and succeededa little better. 

[Illustration: PLATE VI. --PORTRAIT OF A YOUNG MAN

This portrait may be seen to-day in the Pitti Palace at Florence. It issaid to be one of Rembrandt's portraits of himself, painted about1635. ]

At last I stopped before one of the heads in the "Syndics of the ClothMerchants' Guild. " The man in the left-hand corner, with the soft greyhair under the steeple-hat, had arrested my fancy. I felt that there wassomething in the portrait's beauty I could grasp and reproduce, though Isaw at once that the technical treatment was entirely different fromwhat I had attempted hitherto. However, the desire to reproduce thisbreadth of execution tempted me so much that I resolved to try my handat it. I forget now what the copy looked like; I only remember that foryears it hung on my studio wall. 

So I tried to grasp the colour scheme, and the technique of thedifferent artists, until the beauties of the so-called "Night Patrol"and the "Syndics" took such hold of me that nothing attracted me butwhat had come from the hand of the great master, the unique Rembrandt. In his work I found something which all the others lacked. Freedom andexuberance were his chief attractions, two qualities utterly barred andforbidden in the drawing class and in my teacher's studio. 

Although Frans Hals impressed me more than any other painter with thepower with which he wielded the brush, even he was put in the shade byRembrandt's unsurpassable colour effects. 

When I had looked at Rembrandt's pictures to my heart's content, I usedto go down to the ground floor in the "Trippenhuis" to the printcabinet. Here I found his etchings beautifully arranged. It was apleasant room overlooking a garden, and in the centre stood a long tablecovered with a green cloth, on which one could put down the portfolioand look at the gems they contained at leisure. 

I often sat there for hours, buried in the contemplation of these twohundred and forty masterpieces. The conservator never ceased urging meto be careful when he saw me mix them up too much in my efforts tocompare them. How astonished I was to find in the painter who, withmighty hand, had modelled in paint the glorious "Night Patrol, " anaccomplished engraver, not only gifted with the power and freedom of agreat painter, but thoroughly versed in all the mysteries of the use ofthe etching needle on the hard, smooth copper. 

Still it was not the extraordinary skill which attracted me most inthese etchings. It was rather the singular inventive power shown in thedifferent scenes, the peculiar contrast between light and shade, and thealmost childlike manner in which the figures had been treated. Theartist's soul not only spoke through the choice of subject, but itfound an expression in every single detail, conveyed by the delicatehandling of the needle. 

Many Biblical subjects are represented in the Amsterdam collection; theyare full of artistic imagination and sentiment in their composition inspite of their seeming incongruity. The conception is so highlyoriginal, and at the same time betrays such a depth of understanding, that other prints, however beautifully done, look academic and stiltedbeside them. 

Among those etchings were excellent portraits, wonderfully lifelikeheads of the painter's friends and of himself; but when one has lookedat the little picture of his mother, he is compelled to shut theportfolio for a moment, because the unbidden tears rise to the eyes. 

It is impossible to find anything more exquisite than this engraving. Motherly kindness, sweetness, and thoughtfulness are expressed in everycurve, in the slightest touch of the needle. Each line has a meaning;not a single touch could have been left out without injury to the whole. 

Hokusai, the Japanese artist, said that he hoped to live to be very oldthat he might have time to learn to draw in such a way that every strokeof his pencil would be the expression of some living thing. That isexactly what Rembrandt has attained here, and, in this portrait, herealised at the age of twenty-four the ideal of the old Japanese; it isone of his earliest etchings. 

I re-open the portfolio to have a look at the pictures of the wonderfulold Jewish beggars. They were types that were to be found by the scorein the Amsterdam of those days, and Rembrandt delighted to draw them. One is almost inclined to say that they cannot be beggars, because themaster's hand has endowed them with the warmth and splendour with whichhis artistic temperament clothed everything he looked at. 

When I had looked enough at the etchings, I used to go home through thetown, and it seemed to me as if I were meeting the very people I hadjust seen in the engravings. As I went through the "Hoog Straat" and"St. Anthony's Breestraat" to the "Joden Breestraat, " where I lived afew doors from the famous house where Rembrandt dwelt and worked solong, I saw the picturesque crowd passing to and fro; I saw the vividHebrew physiognomies, with their iron-grey beards; the red-headed women;the barrows full of fish or fruit, or all kinds of rubbish; the houses, the people, the sky. It was all Rembrandt--all Rembrandtesque. A greatdeal has been changed in those streets since the time of which I havebeen writing, yet, even now, whenever I pass through them I seem to seethe colours, and the kind of people Rembrandt shows us in his works. 

In the meantime I had found a third manifestation of Rembrandt's talent, viz. , his drawings. To a young painter, who himself was still groping inthe dark for means of expressing his feelings, these drawings wereexceedingly puzzling, but at the same time full of stimulus. 

Less palpably living than his etchings, it was some time before I couldproperly appreciate them, but when I understood what I firmly believestill, namely, that the master did not draw with a view to exhibitingthem or only for the pleasure of making graceful outlines I felt theirtrue meaning. They were simply the embodiments of his deeper feelings;emanations from the abundance of his fertile imagination. They have beenthrown on the paper with an unthinking, careless hand; the same handthat created masterpieces, prompted by the slightest impulse, the leastsensation. When I looked at them superficially they seemed disfigured byall sorts of smudges and thick black lines, which cross and recross in aseemingly wild and aimless sort of way; but when looked into carefully, they all have a meaning of their own, and have been put there with ajust and deep felt appreciation of light and shade. The greatercompositions crowded with figures, the buildings, the landscapes--allare impregnated with the same deep artistic feeling. 

[Illustration: PLATE VII. --PORTRAIT OF AN OLD LADY

This famous portrait of an old lady unknown is in our National Gallery. It is on canvas 4 ft. 2+3/4 in. By 3 ft. 2 in. ]

One evening one of my friends gave us a short lecture on art and showedus many drawings by ancient and modern artists, most of them, however, being by contemporaries who had already become famous. Among them wasone drawing by Rembrandt, and it was remarkable to notice the peculiareffect it produced in this collection. The scene represented on the oldsmudgy piece of paper was so simple in execution, so noble incomposition, done with just a few strokes of the pencil, that all theother drawings looked like apprentice-work beside it. Here was themaster, towering above all. 

Thus I saw Rembrandt, the man who could tell me endless stories, andcould conjure them up before my eyes with either brush, pencil, oretching needle. Whether heaven or earth; the heroes of old; or only acorner of old Amsterdam--out of everything he made the most beautifuldrawings. His pictures of lions and elephants are wonderfully naïve. Hisnude figures of female models are remarkable, because no painter daredpaint them exactly as he saw them in his studio, but Rembrandt, entranced by the glow and warmth of the flesh tints, never dreamt ofreproducing them otherwise than as he saw them. It was no Venus, orJune, or Diana he wanted. He might, perhaps, even take his neighbour'swasherwoman, make her get up on the model throne, and put her on thecanvas in all the glory of living, throbbing flesh and blood. 

And the way in which he put his scrawls and strokes is so wonderful thatone can never look too long at them. All his work is done with alight-heartedness, a cheerfulness, and firmness which preclude at oncethe idea of painful study and exertion. 

II

What do I think of the master now, after so many years?

Come with me, reader, let us look together at the strongest expressionof Rembrandt's art, viz. , his picture "The Night Patrol. "

Our way leads us now to the Ryksmuseum, and we sit down in the newlybuilt "Rembrandt room, " with our backs to the light, so as to obtain afull view of the picture, and we try to forget all about the struggle itcost to erect this temple of art. 

At first sight, we are struck by the grand movements of light and shade, which seem to flood the canvas as if with waves of coloured harmonies. Then, suddenly, two men seem to step out from the group. The one isdressed in sombre-coloured clothes, whilst the other is resplendent inwhite. That is Rembrandt all over, not afraid of putting the light inbold contrast against the dark. So as to maintain the harmony betweenthe two he makes the dark man lift his hand as if he were pointing atsomething, and in doing so, he casts a softening shadow on his brilliantcompanion. Genius finds a way where ordinary mortals are at a loss howto help themselves. Clearly these men are in earnest conversation witheach other, and it is quite evident that they are the leaders of thecompany. 

But when everything was put on the canvas that he intended to put there, the master stood in front of it and shook his head. 

To him these two leaders did not stand out sufficiently from the rest. So he took up his palette again, and again he dipped his broadestbrushes deep in paint and with a few mighty strokes he transformed thesetwo figures; a little more depth here, some more light there. He triedevery means to give the scene more depth, and a fuller meaning. Then hesaw that it was all right and left it. 

The likeness of his patrons was, perhaps, not very exact and most likelysome murmurs were raised at the want of minutely finished detail; but hedid not heed such matters. To him the main point was to make his figureslive and breathe and move; and see how he succeeded! From the plumes oftheir hats to the soles of their feet everything is living, tangible. How full of energy and character are their heads! Their dress, the steelgorget, the boots of the man in white; everything bears witness to thewonderful power of the master. 

And look at the man in black, with his red bandolier, his gloves, andhis stick. This does not strike one as anything out of the common, because the composition is so true, so perfectly natural and simple. Icannot remember having seen a single picture in which the peculiar styleand picturesqueness of those days is so vividly expressed, as in thefigures of these two men calmly walking along on the giant canvas. 

Now let us turn to the right and have a look at the perspiring drummer. His pock-marked face, overshadowed by a frayed hat, is of the trueFalstaff type. The swollen nose, the thick-lipped mouth, every detail iscarried out with the daring of the true artist which characterises allthe master's work. Look at him, drumming away as if he wanted to make itknown that he himself is one of the most magnificent specimens of thework of the genius whom men call Rembrandt. 

On looking at this man I can understand why Gerard de Lairesse exclaimedin his great book on painting: "In Rembrandt's pictures the paint isrunning down the panel like mud!" But it was only his conscientiousnarrow-mindedness which made him say it. Genius never fails to get intoconflict with narrow thought. 

But now let us turn our attention to the left-hand corner. There we seethat pithy soldier all in red. Rembrandt, with his intuitive knowledgeof chiaroscuro, was not afraid of painting a figure all in red. He knewthat the play of light and shade on the colour would help him out. Herepart of the red is toned down by a beautiful soft tint, which makes thewhole figure blend harmoniously with the greyish-green of the others. This man in red, too, has been treated in the same masterly manner ofwhich I spoke above. If one looks at him attentively, it seems as if theman, who apparently might step out of the canvas at any rate, had beenpainted with one powerful sweep of the brush. How firm is the treatmentof the hand loading the gun; how true the shadows on the red hat andjerkin. There the figure stands, alert, living, full of movement, richin colour. 

In this marvellous picture we come across something striking at everyturn. How life-like is the halberdier looking over his shoulder; and theman who is inspecting his gun, just behind the figure in white; observethe wonderful effect of the laughing boy in the grey hat against thedark background. Even the pillar which serves as a background to the manwith the helmet adds to the harmony of the whole. 

But here we meet with something peculiar! What is that quaint littlegirl doing among all those men?

[Illustration: PLATE VIII. --HEAD OF A YOUNG MAN. (Unknown)

In the Louvre]

Numbers of critics have racked their brains about the meaning ofdifferent details. But if Rembrandt could have heard them, he would haveanswered with a laugh, "Don't you see that I only wanted this child as afocus for the light, and a contrast with all the downward lines and darkcolours?"

The man with the banner in the background, the dog running away, allthese details help each other to carry out the effect of line andcolour. There is not a square inch in this canvas which does not betraya rare talent. This is a case in which the assertion, "Cut me a pieceout of a picture and I will tell you if it is by an artist, " couldsuccessfully be applied. 

Now, I hope my readers won't object to accompanying me a little further, and stopping with me before the "Syndics. " There it hangs, the greatsimple canvas, quite different in character from the "Night Patrol. "

Everything here is dignified and stately. The whole picture is aglorious witness to the consummate knowledge the master possessed ofexpressing the individual soul in the human face. Here they sit, thoseold Dutch fathers, assembled in solemn conclave, debating about theirtrade, with the books on the table in front of them; and Rembrandt haspainted these heads so true to life that in the course of years theyhave become like old friends; yes, old friends, though they livedhundreds of years before we were dreamt of. 

How long have I known that man on the left, with his hand on the knob ofhis arm-chair, and the fine grey hair on his broad wrinkled brow showingfrom under the high steeple-hat? The flesh tints in the face, whethercatching the full light, or partly veiled by shadows, display an endlessvariety of shades, and the neutral greens and reds, greys and yellows, are put against each other in such a wonderful manner that an effecthas been attained which strikes us dumb with admiration. The way inwhich he is made to stand out from the background is in itselfmarvellous, but just look at the man! how full of life and understandingis the look in those eyes. It is something quite unique, somethingRembrandt himself has never surpassed. 

And then there are the other figures; the man who is leaning forward;the one sitting right in front of the book, his neighbour; even thefifth merchant on the right, with his servant behind him--one and allare full of life and light. 

The background is such as Rembrandt only, with his understanding oflines, could have devised. The wall and the panelling shut in thecomposition in such a way that one cannot possibly imagine it everhaving been otherwise. And even this skilful touch is made subordinateto the warm red colour of the tablecloth, which lends the picture anadditional depth. 

I don't know whether this picture was very much discussed by Rembrandt'scontemporaries when it was finished. But to us, who have seen so much ofthe art of the great Italians, Germans, and Spaniards, these heads arethe highest achievement of the art of painting. 

When I was in Madrid, where I was charmed by Velasquez' work, our partywas one day walking through the broad streets of the capital. Passing alarge, picturesque building, our attention was attracted by a gaudyposter informing us that an exhibition of the works of modern Spanishartists was being held within. Our curiosity being aroused, we entered, and found that in this country, where so many famous artists lived andworked, there are among the modern artists many studious, highlytalented men, who serve their art with true love and devotion. Butsuddenly it seemed as if we had been carried by magic from Spain back toAmsterdam. We had come face to face with a copy of the "Syndics, "painted by a Spanish artist during a stay in Amsterdam. 

Was it national prejudice, or was it conviction? I don't know; but thiscopy spoke to us of a spirit of greater simplicity, of a truerconception of the nature and dignity of mankind than anything we hadadmired in the Prado. Yes; this picture even kills its own Dutchbrothers. It makes Van der Helst look superficial, and Franz Halsunfinished and flat. So much thoroughness and depth combined with suchfreedom and grace of movement is not to be found anywhere else. 

These people have lived on the canvas for centuries, and they willoutlive us all. And the man who achieved this masterpiece was at thetime of its production a poor, struggling burgher living in an obscurecorner of the town where his tercentenary festival was latelycelebrated. 

III

But this is not the place for the sad reflections which are awakened inour minds on examining the records of him whose name the world nowglorifies and raises to the skies. Better to honour the great masterwho, for so many centuries, has held the world in awed admiration. Thereis no need to-day to drag Rembrandt forth from the obscurity of the pastto save him from oblivion; we were not obliged to cleanse his image fromthe dust of ages before showing to the world this unequalled genius towhom Holland proudly points as one of her own sons. 

On the contrary, never was Rembrandt's art valued so highly as it isnow. Archives and documents are searched for details about his life andworks. We want to know all about his life, and are anxious to share hisinmost feelings in prosperity and adversity. The houses where he livedare marked down and bought by art-lovers. At the present time Rembrandtis in the zenith of his glory. Gold loses its value where his picturesare concerned. Fortunes are spent to secure the most insignificant ofhis works; people travel across continents to see them; and criticism, which for long years did little more than snarl at Rembrandt, has fornearly fifty years been dumb. 

It is remarkable that none of the great painters have, in the course ofyears, been subjected to so much criticism as Rembrandt. Andnotwithstanding all the things which have been said about theimprobability of the scene, and the exaggeration of the dark background, the "Night Patrol" is now, as it ever was and ever will be, the "World'swonder, " as our English neighbours say. 

During his lifetime there were people who condemned Rembrandt because herefused to follow in the footsteps of the old Italian painters, becausehe persisted in painting nature as he saw it. 

To us such a reproach seems strange, yet it is quite true. Even duringthe last years of Rembrandt's life a growing dissatisfaction with theexisting ideas on art and literature had taken possession of the Dutchmind. People developed a morbid taste for everything classical; and whenI read in the prose works and poems of these days the Latinised namesand the constant allusions to Greek gods and goddesses and mythologicalpersonages, so strangely out of place under our northern sky, I amfilled with disgust. 

It was fortunate, indeed, that Rembrandt always felt strong in his ownconviction and only followed his own views. For many years after hisdeath, even as late as the middle of the nineteenth century, a number ofart critics raised objections against the dangerous theories of whichhis pictures were the expression. Again and again they attacked histechnical treatment; none of them ever grasped its deeper, fullermeaning. 

Happily those days are far behind us. A great number of books andpamphlets have been published on Rembrandt during the last fifty years, and they are almost unanimous in their praise and admiration of thegreat master. The more liberal feelings of the modern world haveachieved some victories in the realms of art as well as elsewhere. Wemoderns feel that the apparent shortcomings and exaggerations arenothing but the inevitable peculiarities attendant upon genius. And weeven go so far that we would not have him be without a single one ofthem, for fear of losing the slightest trait in the character of thegreat man whose every movement roused our intellectual faculties. 

So Rembrandt has been raised in our days to the pinnacle of fame whichis his by right; the festival of his tercentenary was acknowledged bythe whole civilised world as the natural utterance of joy and pride ofour small country in being able to count among its children the greatRembrandt. 

I finish, --"with the pen, but not with the heart!" For if I should go onuntil the inclination to add more to what I have written here shouldfail me, my readers would have tired of me long before I had tired of mysubject. I am thinking of that rare gem, the portrait of Jan Six--of theLouvre, of Cassel, of Brunswick, of what not!

May these pages convey to the reader the fact that I have always lookedupon Rembrandt as the true type of an artist, free, untrammelled bytraditions, genial in all he did; in short, a figure in whom all thegreat qualities of the old Republic of the United Provinces wereconcentrated and reflected. 

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: The "Trippenhuis" was used as a picture gallery before theRyksmuseum was built. It was an old patrician family mansion belongingto the Trip family. Several members of this family filled importantposts in the government of the old Republic of the United Provinces, andsome were burgomasters of Amsterdam. ]

[Footnote 2: "Arti et Amicitiæ" is a society of modern Dutch painters. Occasionally the members organise exhibitions of the work ofcontemporary countrymen or of foreign artists, and every year there isan exhibition of their own works. These shows are held in the society'sown building in Amsterdam at the corner of the "Rokin" and "Spui. "]