No. 256. Christ Preaching.
It is an interesting fact, at a time when the illustrating of books and magazines is such an important art, to know that Rembrandt was offered and accepted some commissions to make illustrations for [pg 25] [pg 26] books. These attempts to give form to another's ideas were not successful—in one case it was such a failure as to leave it still uncertain what he intended to illustrate. Vosmaer, his great biographer, says that this print “The Ship of Fortune” (No. 106), pictures incidents in the life of St. Paul, while Michel, another biographer, thinks that it illustrates events which gather about Mark Anthony and the battle of Actium!
A score of men—Bartsch, Wilson, Blanc, Middleton, Rovinski, to mention a few—have at sundry times and in divers places compiled annotated catalogues of Rembrandt's etchings. They, and other students like Vosmaer, Haden, Hamerton and Michel, have given years to study and travel in connection with their books on Rembrandt. All lovers of etching appreciate this and are grateful. Nevertheless, it is amusing sometimes to compare their expert testimony. About 1633 somebody etched a “Good Samaritan.” Several of these experts regretfully, but frankly, admit that Rembrandt is the guilty one. Others are sure that a pupil did the worst of the work; Haden says it is entirely the work of another hand; while yet another declares that of all Rembrandt's etchings this particular “Good Samaritan” (No. 101) is his favorite. Middleton, to give another instance, thinks that the thick lines from top to bottom, in the fourth state of the “Christ Crucified between Two Thieves,” (“The Three Crosses”) (No. 270) are not Rembrandt's work, for they serve “to obliterate, conceal and mar every excellence it had [pg 27] possessed.” Haden, however, considers that the time of darkness is represented, and that this particular state is far the finest in effect. Much confusion arises from the fact that sometimes all the states of a plate under discussion are not known to each critic. The whole matter of states is a confusing one. The old idea was that Rembrandt produced various states in order to make more money. But it seems plain now that when Rembrandt changed a plate it was for much better reasons than the making of a few guilders. We know, for instance, that the “Jan Six” plate was changed twice to make needed corrections, and that the second state of the first portrait of his mother simply carries out the original design. On the other hand, it obviously could not have been Rembrandt who made the third state of the “Jan Lutma,” with its hard, ruled lines and great unnecessary window.
If in the days of hardship, when his son, Titus, peddled his etchings from door to door, he could have foreseen the great army of admirers who three centuries later should outbid each other at auctions, and make war in print over his experimental plates, his failures and his trial-proofs—now often exalted into “states”—the very irony of the thing would surely have brought him genuine satisfaction and relaxation.
Rembrandt has said of himself that he would submit to the laws of Nature alone, and as he interpreted these to suit himself, he cannot be said to have painted, or etched, or done anything in accord with [pg 28] our interpretation of recognized or well-grounded laws. With him it was instinct, pure and simple, from youth to old age. He had no secret process of painting or etching; but he had an amazing genius for both.
One October day in 1669 an old man, lonely and forgotten, died in Amsterdam. They buried him in the Wester Kerk and, that he might not be confounded with some other old man, they wrote in the “Livre Mortuaire” of the Kerk, “Tuesday, 8th oct., 1669, rembrant van rijn, painter on the rozengraft, opposite the doolhof. leaves two children.”
Of material things he left little; but the two children: Cornelia, his fifteen year old daughter, and Titia, the posthumous, infant child of Titus, would keep his name alive! Less than a score of years and the family record comes to an abrupt end. No one to-day may claim descent from Rembrandt, but his name has not perished from the earth, nor his influence abated among the sons of men. His name took on new life when he laid it aside; his influence strengthened when he ceased personally to exercise it. Who of us is not his grateful heir? Who does not now do loving reverence to this poor “painter on the rozengraft, opposite the doolhof?” He surely stands among the immortals, one of the foremost painters of all time, the greatest etcher that has yet appeared.
NOTE—The foregoing article was published a few years ago in The Craftsman. Of the many commendations received at that time we print but one:
“New York, Dec'r. 5, 1906. Dear Mr. Holman; *** I send you my special thanks for your article on the etchings of Rembrandt. I have read it carefully, and let me say plainly that I think is the best short treatise on this great subject which ever I have read. The knowledge of the subject as treated by many writers is so superficial—but yours is profound. You have evidently made a serious study of your subject. Yours very truly,”
(Signed) Frederick Keppel.