Rembrandt - Painter, Engraver and Draftsman - Volume 2 E-Book

Emile Michel

• Herausgeber: Parkstone International
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 226

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

There is no other artist who represents the Dutch Golden Age like Rembrandt. With his realistic oil paintings, detailed engravings, and exquisite drawings he is the figurehead of an entire generation. As famous during his lifetime as after his death, Rembrandt (1606-1669) was one of the greatest masters of the Dutch Golden Age of the 17th century. His portraits not only transport us back to that fascinating time, but also represent, above all, a human adventure; beneath every dab of paint the spirit of the model seems to stir. Yet these portraits are only the tip of the Rembrandt iceberg, which consists of over 300 canvasses, 350 engravings, and 2,000 drawings. Throughout his oeuvre, the influence of Flemish Realism is as powerful as that of the Caravaggists. He applied this skillful fusion of styles to all his works, conferring biblical subjects and everyday themes alike with an unparalleled and intimate emotional power.

Leseprobe

Émile Michel

Rembrandt

Author: after Émile Michel

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© Parkstone Press International, New York, USA

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No parts of this publication may be reproduced or adapted without the permission of the copyright holder, throughout the world. Unless otherwise specified, copyright on the works reproduced lies with the respective photographers. Despite intensive research, it has not always been possible to establish copyright ownership. Where this is the case, we would appreciate notification.

ISBN: 978-1-78525-679-0

Contents

Rembrandt’s Reputation and Saskia’s Death

Rembrandt’s Increasing Fame

The Night Watch

Saskia’s Death

Rembrandt’s Technique and His Genius

Rembrandt’s Technique

The Art of the Portrait

His Landscapes

Rembrandt’s Home

A Strenuous Twilight

Rembrandt’s Financial Difficulties

Exile

The Syndics

His Last Years

Conclusion

Bibliography

List of Illustrations

1. Artemis, 1634. Oil on canvas, 143 x 154.7 cm. Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid.

Rembrandt’s Reputation and Saskia’s Death

Rembrandt’s Increasing Fame

Rembrandt’s talents, and the popularity he enjoyed at Amsterdam, had now made him widely known. His etchings, which had been well-received from the first, spread his fame not only throughout his own country but in foreign lands, and many pupils came to seek instruction from him. We do not believe, however, that he received any into his studio in the very early days of his residence. At the time, he was less extensively known. Additionally, those who were discovered to have been his first pupils were not old enough to be his apprentices until several years after his arrival. When he had more time at his disposal, he found it impossible to refuse all of the many applicants for admission. He was at once the most fashionable portraitist, and the most prominent historical painter of the day. Various circumstances, as we shall see, combined with his superiority over his rivals to secure his preeminence.

We have seen that the master, in addition to his studies from the human body, turned to everything around him for his own instruction. The animals, still-life subjects, and objects he used were also copied by his pupils. Several of their studies, and some of those retouched by Rembrandt himself, are enumerated in his inventory. He was careful to vary such work as much as possible, and to this end, he made his house a perfect museum of curiosities, seeming never to weary of adding new acquisitions to his stores such as costly materials, stuffed animals, richly ornamented weapons, plasters, casts from nature or antiquities, pictures and engravings by various masters. He transacted business with all the principal art dealers, and was a frequent attendant at sales. As early as 1635, he bought a number of drawings, chiefly by Adriaen Brauwer.

Rembrandt was often accused of avarice; however, few artists have actually shown an equal lack of worldly wisdom regarding their financial affairs, a lack of wisdom from which he cruelly suffered at the end of his career. He squandered his money in the most reckless manner, including that which Saskia brought him, no less than his own earnings, and the inheritances that fell to him from time to time. Far from watching keenly over his own interests, he was always too ready to neglect them, and in the administration of family affairs he was invariably guided by his natural generosity, and by a kindliness which often led him to extravagance. As his money came in, it was immediately spent on acquisitions of all sorts. He also drew largely on his credit: regarding ornaments for his beloved Saskia, nothing was too magnificent.

The pearls, precious stones, rich necklaces, clasps, and bracelets of every kind she wears in her portraits and in the pictures for which she sat, were not gems of Rembrandt’s imagination, created by a stroke of the brush. From these portraits and pictures we could make an inventory of the young wife’s jewel-case. Prompted both by his love for Saskia and his devotion to his art, Rembrandt found it impossible to resist the temptation of these purchases. In addition to the silver basins, ewers, and cups he introduces in many of his compositions, note the jewels that sparkle in the hair and ears, on the arms, neck and breast of the Artemis in the Prado, and Samson Proposing the Riddle at the Wedding Feast at Dresden (Vol.1, pp. 130-131), in addition to the sole adornment of the Danae in the Hermitage (Vol.1, p. 231).

Certain of Saskia’s relatives, prompted either by jealousy or genuine disapproval of the young couple’s lavish expenditures and unconventional behaviours, began to criticise the household with some severity. Divisions had sprung up in the family in connection with the distribution of old Rombertus’ estate. A series of lawsuits engaged in by the disputants caused mutual estrangements. Rembrandt supported the cause of the Gerard van Loo, who had his entire confidence. On the eve of his marriage he had, in fact, placed all his interests in Friesland in Gerard’s hands. By a deed drawn up at Rotterdam, on July 22, 1634, Gerard was empowered to deal with all sums due to the young couple and to “sign all contracts and receipts for them.” Having rendered a judgment favourable to Van Loo, the opponents no doubt vented their chagrin and spoke a bit too freely about Rembrandt, his wife, and the life they led, implying that Saskia had squandered her inheritance in jewels and display.

Greatly incensed by attacks which he felt to be wholly groundless, Rembrandt brought an action against Albert van Loo, and supported by his brother-in-law, Ulric van Uylenborch, he demanded damages for “slander in no respect true,” declaring that he and his wife were on the contrary “richly and even superabundantly provided with means,” and that they had, therefore, just claims to compensation. The court, however, judged his grievance insufficient in a decree of July 16, 1638.

In spite of his assertion of solvency, Rembrandt had already had difficulties, and even before 1637 was obliged to borrow money. When writing to the Prince’s secretary, on January 27, 1639, to announce the completion of the two pictures, The Entombment and The Resurrection, he begged for immediate payment, “as the money would be very acceptable just now.” He further spoke with the Treasurer, Uytenbogaerd, who told him that payment could be made at his office. On the thirteenth of February following, Rembrandt, having agreed to the proposed price of 600 florins each for his pictures, plus 44 florins for frames and case, returned to the charge, asking that payment might be made “as quickly as possible at Amsterdam.” There was, however, a further delay of some days, prompting him to repeat his request more urgently than before, begging that “the order might be made out immediately.”

From other sources we also learn further causes for Rembrandt’s impatience, and his solicitations for payment. By then, he had bought a house. Upon his arrival in Amsterdam, he took up his quarters in a warehouse on Bloemgracht. His letters to Huygens mention various subsequent residences. In February 1636, he lived on New Doel Straet; three years later he relocated to a house called the Sugar Refinery on a new quay on Binnen Amstel Street at the end of the town. Such changes were not to the taste of a recluse like Rembrandt; he felt the need of a home in which he could set up his studio, install his pupils, and arrange his collections. On January 5, 1639, he bought the second house beyond the bridge, belonging to the heirs of P. Beltens in Joden-Breestraat. This house, in the very heart of the Jewish quarter, adjoined that of the Jew, Salvador Rodriguez, on the east, and on the west, that of Rembrandt’s brother-artist, Nicolaes Elias. The price was 13,000 florins, a fourth of which was to be paid a year after possession and the remainder in five or six years. A sum so considerable in those days shows that the property was a valuable one. The house must have been in excellent repair, for it was a comparatively new building, as we know from the date, 1606, inscribed in a stone on the second story. Rembrandt evidently counted on his annual gains for these successive payments. He now received considerable sums, ranging from 500 to 600 florins, for his portraits and pictures. He was beginning to make a good price for his etchings; he had further the payments from his pupils, and the occasional inheritance that fell to him. This had enabled him to pay off half the purchase price of his house, and thus proclaim his intention of paying the whole debt as soon as possible. Unfortunately, his virtuous zeal was short-lived. He made no further payments, and the accumulated interest on the debt eventually became one of the main causes of his ruin.

2. Bellona, 1633. Oil on canvas, 127 x 97.5 cm. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

3. Cupid, 1634. Oil on wood, 75.7 x 92.6 cm. Collection of the duke of Liechtenstein, Vaduz.

In May of the year 1639, he took up residence in this house. His home had always been dear to him, and in this one which he hoped would be permanent, he delighted to store everything pleasing to the eye and serviceable to his art. The life he marked out for himself was now, as always, methodical; everything was made subordinate to his work. On this point, his biographers are all agreed. When he was painting he would not have given audience to the greatest monarch on earth, but would have compelled even such one to wait, or to come again when he was available. Though his pupils, Flinck, Bol, Koninck, and Van den Eeckhout, all figured more or less prominently in public life, he himself was a person apart. His name, unlike theirs, appears neither among the members of the Painters’ Guild nor among those of the Civic Guards. When in 1638 Marie de Medici announced her intention of visiting Amsterdam, the municipality arranged to give her a magnificent reception. Rembrandt was excluded. He never put himself forward, and was readily forgotten, nor did he take much pleasure in dealing with the polished devotees of classic culture who gave the tone to society who, on their part, had little appreciation for him. Rembrandt, for his part, preferred those simpler folks whose minds were more in touch with the familiar life of the nation, and whose tastes agreed with his own. He profited more from the intimacy with small tradespeople and with the lower classes that scandalised his detractors more than from the acquaintances he might have cultivated among the great, had he been so minded. Among the poor and lowly he found opportunities to observe the lively and spontaneous manifestation of feelings he could never have studied in patrician society. Herein lay his strength, that by virtue of the truth and intense vitality of his art, he was able to revivify apparently exhausted themes. By giving shape to the vague aspirations then simmering among the masses, he had shown the eternal freshness of the greatest subjects.

Though he admitted but few to his own fireside, among his relatives and friends he could count many distinguished men in whose society he took genuine pleasure. We know that he had secured the lasting affection of members of Saskia’s family. He had recently lost the aged Sylvius, who had always shown the warmest attachment to him. The minister died November 19, 1638, after marrying his son in May of the same year. But through the intermediary of the Sylviuses, Rembrandt had made the acquaintance of other clergy of the city, such as Alenson, Eleazar Swalm, and Renier Anslo, whose portrait he afterwards painted. With them, as with the Rabbis and Hebrew scholars of his quarter, he was able to discuss the sacred writings and their interpretations of them. Among his intimates were also collectors and art dealers, such as his cousin, Hendrick van Uylenborch, and a certain number of artists, chiefly landscape painters, like R. Roghman, one of his most constant friends; also a few favourite pupils whom he admitted to his domestic circle.

4. Study for The Abduction of Ganymede, 1635 (?). Drawing pen and bister tints with white highlights, 18.5 x 16.1 cm. Kupferstichkabinett, Dresden.

5. The Abduction of Ganymede, 1635. Oil on canvas, 177 x 130 cm. Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, Dresden.

His own home, however, was sufficient for him. There he found the two things dearest to him on earth; his work and his wife, the loving companion who anticipated his every wish, and shared his joys and his sorrows. Unhappily, Saskia’s health had given him great cause for anxiety for some time. Her strength had been severely taxed by the birth of several children. She had lost her eldest son, who was born at the end of 1635. A daughter, born on July 1, 1638, was baptised Cornelia, after Rembrandt’s mother, at the Oude Kerk on July 22 of the following year. But this child too died on July 29, 1640.

Faithful to his early habits, Rembrandt continued to take Saskia for his model, and the etchings he made of her at this period mark the gradual decline of a constitution that was never robust. She is represented in various head-dresses and draperies, much as she appears in a few pictures of this period, still plump, and full of youthful grace as in The Jewish Bride, where the master drew her in a loose wrapper with unbound hair and her features perceptibly thinner. Finally, in the plate containing some half a dozen disconnected studies, probably executed in 1639, we recognise her in two lightly drawn sketches. She is represented in bed, and the feverish anxiety in her face seems to betray some secret terror. Her sister Titia probably came to Aher for a time at this date, for it was then that the master made a charming little China ink wash drawing of her. Saskia’s continued ill-health, and the loss of their children, who followed each other to the grave in such rapid succession, seem to have greatly depressed the master. Two of the etchings of this period attest to his melancholy frame of mind. We have already described The Death of the Virgin (Vol.1, p. 92), the chief figure which was obviously inspired by the two sketches on the plate mentioned above. In this composition, Rembrandt reveals the gloomy sentiments at work in his own mind: in September or October, Rembrandt’s mother died. Perhaps she made a short visit to her eldest son in the previous year, or perhaps Rembrandt went to visit her in Leyden where he could have finished her bust portrait, signed and dated 1639, of her as Belvedere in which she is portrayed face forward and leaning on a cane. Certainly, the kind expression by which we know her persists in her features, but her broken spirit, and apparent exhaustion all too clearly announce her imminent death.

At the request of her four children, an inventory of her effects was taken prior to a division of the estate. This consisted of the house and adjoining land at Weddesteeg, several other houses, and a few outstanding debts, a garden, and a half-share in the mill at the White Gate. The net valuation amounted to 9,960 florins, the share for each child being 2,490 florins. Adriaen, with his sister Lysbeth as coadjutor, undertook the selling of the property. He was a debtor to the extent of some 1,600 florins to the estate, the administration of which necessitated a new deed of partition. To help Adriaen, Rembrandt accepted his inheritance in the form of an extended mortgage on the share of the mill. But being pressed for money, he gave his brother Willem a power of attorney to sell this mortgage. In spite of his habitual difficulties, he was the first of the family to repay to Adriaen his part of advances made by the latter on the property to be sold. Anxious to simplify matters as far as possible for his co-heirs, he agreed to their various proposals in the spirit of generous affection which marked all his dealings with his family.

6. The Visitation, 1640. Oil on cedar panel, 56.5 x 47.9 cm. The Detroit Institute of Arts, Detroit.

7. Christ and St. Mary Magdalene at the Tomb, 1638. Oil on panel, 61 x 49.5 cm. The Royal Collection, London.

After the death of his mother, Rembrandt naturally sought solace and distraction in his work and the affections that still remained to him. And, as may be readily imagined, seeing how intimate the union between his life and art had always been, his works of this period faithfully reflect the thoughts that filled his mind. The subjects that attracted him are all closely allied to his most intimate musings. They are chiefly scenes of family life, in which he seeks to express, even more deeply than before, the joys dearer to him than ever now that his mother’s death and Saskia’s failing health made him understand their impermanence. The Carpenter’s Household , signed and dated 1640, is one of the best among the small pictures painted by Rembrandt at this date. The composition is extremely simple. A young woman, whose sweet, dignified face is seen in profile, is seated beside a cradle, suckling a child, whom the old grandmother turns from her book to caress. The father planes a board near the high window to the left. Around these four figures, in an interior which serves the double purpose of workshop and living-room, are ranged the tools and utensils of their modest home. A cat purrs contentedly at a little distance from the group. Outside, the sprays of the vine that cluster about the open window are set against a deep blue sky, and the sunshine pours gaily into the room, falling directly on the mother and child. The meticulous finish, delicate style, and radiant aspects both of life and nature shedding luster in this work, seem to suggest that the painter had put forth all his powers to express this poetic conception of work and family life the two things dearest to him.

The Visitation, also signed and dated 1640, has the same technical qualities and the same poetic charm. The old couple, informed of Mary’s approach, hastens to meet her. Zachary, a venerable man with a long white beard, hurries down the steps in front of his house with the help of a boy on whom he leans for support. Elizabeth goes before him, staff in hand and embraces her cousin, gazing at her with tender reverence. The young girl submits to her caresses in some confusion at the honour with which she is received. The skillfully grouped figures are surrounded by the picturesque disorder of a farm yard, with climbing plants and scattered animals, a goose, some fowl, a peacock on a wall. The easy elegance of the handling equals the charm of the chiaroscuro. The light falls full on the two women, the central group of the cheerful scene, and the spectator’s attention is at once riveted to them. Elizabeth’s somewhat somber dress, and the shadow cast on her face by her yellowish wimple, accentuate the brilliant figure of the Virgin, the flower like freshness and harmony of her many-tinted garments, the sweet refinement of her innocent face, and the delicate bloom of a complexion pink and transparent as a briar-rose.

In 1637 Rembrandt executed a more important work, that of The Archangel Leaving the Family of Tobias. The subject was one to which he was anxious to do justice, for he made two preliminary drawings for this painting. The composition in the first drawing, the more finished and elaborate of the two, agrees with that of the picture. The other, which is probably the later work, consists merely of a few strokes drawn with a hasty, feverish touch, and presents quite a different aspect of the scene. Manoah’s awe and amazement at the angel’s heavenward flight, his wife’s terror at the thought that the divine vision may cause their death, these were the features of the sacred story which Rembrandt emphasised in his striking interpretation of the episode. It is regrettable that he made no further use of the angel in this drawing, and that he discarded the boldly rendered spiral of smoke in which the ascending figure floats from sight. The angel of the Dresden picture is a truly grotesque conception a clumsy, loutish boy, encumbered by a long tunic, whose wings seem quite insufficient for his support. On the other hand, the life-size figures of Manoah and his wife are among the most beautiful and touching of creations ever imagined. Never did the master so eloquently express the intimate communion of two souls, mingling in the fervour of a common prayer. Their reverent devotion impresses itself on the spectator, and so absorbs him that he scarcely notes the breadth and simplicity of the execution, the dignified cast of the draperies, and the magnificent quality of the skillfully contrasted reds. In Manoah’s robes these are somewhat subdued, while in his wife’s they glow with extraordinary intensity.

Something of the same charm that marks these Biblical compositions may be traced in several portraits of this period. Rembrandt had always taken pleasure in painting old men, and it may be that memories of the mother he had recently lost influenced him in his predilection for old women as models at this stage of his career. Among his portraits of these, we may mention one that represents an old woman of about eighty, seated with folded hands in an arm-chair. She wears a loose jacket of dark velvet bordered with fur, a white ruff, and a white cap. A kindly expression beams through the network of wrinkles on the aged face.

Portraits of well-known persons and of the master’s friends are rarer at this period than before, and are more carefully treated. Among them is a famous work which has been known under the name of Herman Doomer (c. 1595-1650) or Rembrandt’s Gilder. Here again the brushwork is delicate, minute and highly fused, and this execution, which harmonises admirably with the age and character of the old ladies painted at this period, is in curious contrast with the energetic and somewhat coarse personality of the Gilder, the masculine vigour of whose features is accentuated by the shadow cast by his broad-brimmed hat, and by the white ruff encircling his face. In these perhaps involuntary reversions to the timidity of his early handling, the master gives fresh evidence of those conscientious doubts which beset him when about to adopt greater breadth and freedom of manner.

8. The Holy Family, 1635 (?). Oil on canvas, 183.5 x 123.5 cm. Alte Pinakothek, Munich.

9. Holy Family, 1645. Oil on canvas, 117 x 91 cm. The State Hermitage Museum, St. Petersburg.

10. The Holy Family or The Carpenter’s Household, 1640. Oil on wood, 41 x 34 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris.

11. The Holy Family with a Curtain, 1646. Oil on wood, 46.8 x 68.4 cm. Gemäldegalerie, Kassel.

12. The Archangel Leaving the Family of Tobias, 1637. Oil on wood, 66 x 52 cm. Musée du Louvre, Paris.

A pair of portraits executed the following year are marked by the same conscientious thoroughness, but are freer and more masterly in treatment. The man’s portrait, Nicolaes van Bambeeck , is housed in the Brussels Museum, that of his wife, Agatha Bas, in Buckingham Palace. Both are signed and dated 1641. The husband is turned slightly to the right, and wears a broad-brimmed hat, a cloak edged with velvet, and a ruff and cuffs bordered with lace. One of his hands rests on a window sill; in the other hand he holds his gloves. His face is placid, his attitude calm and simple; the expression and the careful modelling of the head admirably suggest the sitter’s personality. Remarkable as this work is, it in no way equals the pendant, Agatha Bas, a work which is undoubtedly one of Rembrandt’s masterpieces in this genre. The young matron faces the spectator, her fan in one hand, the other resting against the window-frame. The utmost refinement in tasteful elegance is displayed by her rich dress. She has no great beauty of feature; her eyes are small and her nose rather long. However, the sweet contours of her face, the lower part of which is slightly in shadow, the high, pure forehead, above which the fair hair waves in graceful abundance, the candid expression, the touch of melancholy in the gaze, are so sympathetically observed and delicately rendered as to give an irresistible charm and distinction to the gentle sitter. The spectator turns reluctantly from this exquisite work, the beautiful presentation of a pure and lofty soul.

Two pictures, also signed and dated 1641, enjoyed a great reputation even in the last century. They are known as The Jewish Bride and The Bride’s Father Counting out Her Dowry. These titles, together with Schmidt’s engravings, did much to make them popular, but their cold tonality, their execution, and pallid colour, no less than certain peculiarities in the types and composition, suggest grave doubts as to their authenticity. It is another example of those double portraits so admirably typified by The Shipbuilder and his Wife. The picture is dated 1641, and has been variously described as Renier Anslo with his Mother and Cornelis Claesz Anslo with his Wife. The male model was undoubtedly Anslo; Rembrandt, who was perhaps a personal friend of the minister’s, made two drawings of him in 1640, from one of which he executed the etching of the same year. Anslo’s ministerial functions are suggested by the introduction of a young woman dressed in black, no doubt a widow, to whom, with a gesture at once authoritative and benevolent, he offers the consolation of some passage in the open Bible before him. The composition is peculiarly striking; the expression of earnest conviction in the face of the minister, a man in the prime of life, and the respectful attention with which the young mourner receives his condolences, exemplify Rembrandt’s marvellous clarity and directness in the rendering of his thoughts. The masterly execution is well adapted to the dimensions of the canvas, and the perfection of accessories such as the branched candelabrum, the parchments and books strewn upon the table, would do credit to the most consummate still-life painter. Rembrandt alone possessed the secret of the mingled firmness and delicacy evinced in such details as the harmonising of these various objects with the dark red table-cover, the yellowish grey background, and the somber dresses of the figures; and still more admirably evinced in the glowing complexions, and in the contrast between the broad masculine vigour of the minister’s personality, and the refined features of his youthful visitor.

Compared with these important and carefully considered works, the etchings of this period are somewhat slight and hasty. They seem to have been the master’s relaxation from his more arduous labours. Yet even these rapid sketches, drawn directly on the copper, show his absolute command of his art.

13. Rembrandt with Sword and Aigrette, 1st state, 1634. Etching, 19.7 x 16.2 cm. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.

14. The Jewish Bride, 5th state, 1635. Etching, burin and drypoint, 22.1 x 17 cm. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris.

Studies of the Virgin apparently had a special fascination for him at this date. We have already dealt with the Death of the Virgin, the large plate of 1639, by far the best and most important of the series. To begin with subjects from the Scriptures, we find a Beheading of John the Baptist