(Photo courtesy of the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford.)
It is very much a modern taste to admire spontaneity more than craft. We must understand that Rembrandt's work was anything but spontaneous in execution. The existence of so many drawings prior to this print certainly suggests that Rembrandt collected his ideas from many sources, on the spot, but did his finished work in the quiet of his studio, with his notes ready at hand. He used the sketches as the raw material for a work of art. Rembrandt said that the only rule that should bind the artist is nature,[15] but he was certainly not distracted by nature. The individual genius here lies in assembling many observations from nature into a work which goes beyond nature and yet appears fresh and natural.
The metal plates he commonly used were of thin, cold-hammered copper, as shown by extant examples.[16] The hammering had the effect of making the metal harder than today's rolled copper sheets. This enabled more prints to be taken from the plate than is possible for a present-day printmaker. Today, we tend to consider drypoint a very fugitive medium, because the burr perishes so quickly under the pressure of the printing press. Rembrandt undoubtedly had fewer inhibitions about drypoint, for he could expect his harder copper to hold up longer, perhaps for as many as fifty excellent prints from the same plate. Hammered copper, unlike the modern rolled variety, is also completely free of grain in the metal. This enables a drypoint needle to move freely in any direction without encountering the resistance of a grain. Here again, Rembrandt had more incentive to use drypoint than a modern artist.
Rembrandt's etching ground has been the subject of considerable discussion. A book published in 1660, nine years before the artist's death, contains a recipe for "The Ground of Rinebrant of Rine."[17] This ground, similar to that described by Bosse as a "soft" ground,[18] consists of two parts wax, one part mastic, and one part asphaltum. There are countless formulae for such grounds, but virtually all are permutations of the same three ingredients, with only slight differences in the proportions.[19] The ground given as Rembrandt's is a thoroughly conventional one.
A knotty problem, however, is introduced by the last line of this 1660 description: "... lay your black ground very thin, and the white ground upon it. This is the only way of Rinebrant...."[20] No elaboration is given. This one line presents a number of problems, not all of which are soluble. To take it at face value is to accept the contemporary evidence that Rembrandt not only used a white ground but used it exclusively. This assertion cannot be taken uncritically.
It will readily be seen that a white ground might be of considerable assistance to an artist. His needle penetrates the white to the copper, giving the familiar effect of a reddish ink line on white paper. A normal ground, without treatment, is virtually transparent, making the etcher's lines rather difficult to see.[21] The most usual procedure, both in the 17th century and today, is to smoke the ground and incorporate the soot with the ground by heating the plate slightly. This gives a black ground, against which the lines appear light, the negative of the ultimate print. The black ground is favored, both out of long-established tradition and because it is very easy to apply. Furthermore, artists today explain that they also enjoy the feeling of working slightly blind, that one of their greatest rewards is the sense of surprise in peeling the first proof print off the plate. For whatever reason, the black ground has been preferred by the great majority of artists, both past and present.
The description of Rembrandt's ground in 1660 takes knowledge of the white ground for granted. Its technique certainly appears to have been generally well known among artists in the middle of the 17th century. Rubens, in a letter as early as 1622, mentions having received a recipe for a white ground, although he could not remember it.[22] The first technical explanation of the process appeared in Bosse's pioneer treatise in 1645.[23] There is no reason why Rembrandt should not have known of the white-ground technique and every reason to suppose that he did.
There is one piece of strong evidence that he did use a white ground about 1631. One of Rembrandt's drawings exists which, unlike most of his sketches is an exact prototype (in reverse) of a specific etching, Diana at the Bath.[24] The back of this drawing is covered with black chalk, and its lines show the indentation of tracing. The only reasonable explanation of this evidence is that Rembrandt placed his prepared drawing on top of a white-grounded plate and traced the lines, depositing the black chalk lines on the ground, where he could then trace them with his etching needle. Another similarly indented drawing—for the portrait of Cornelis Claesz Anslo—has been held to show the same procedure as late as 1641. This drawing, however, is backed, not with black chalk as previously cited, but with ocher tempera.[25] Although surely used for tracing, this gives perhaps even more evidence of his use of a black ground rather than white, although ocher lines would show on either. These conclusions are not meant to imply in any way that Rembrandt used the tracing of a drawing for his Landscape with a hay barn.... There is every probability that he did not do so. The implication is rather that only where a traced drawing with black backing exists do we have circumstantial evidence for the use, and possibly a more general use, of white ground. Without the published recipe no question would be likely to arise that Rembrandt used anything but the standard black ground. With it, we must search for corroboration.
Though the case must be left as "not proven," the use of a white etching ground is consistent with Rembrandt's practice of using the simplest effective means for achieving his artistic aims. The distinctive quality of the print under consideration here is the artist's remarkable placement and articulation of areas of black against the white paper. Rembrandt may have found it far easier to visualize this ultimate effect by using a white background for dark lines on his plate, rather than the negative.
Rembrandt almost certainly made all the etched lines in this print in a single operation. The lines were put on the plate before it went into the acid. The plate was then etched by the acid in a single biting, without stopping-out. The evidence for these assertions comes from the print itself, as we have no direct testimony in the matter.