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Rembrandt
by
His energy was a surprise to all who had known him, for besides teaching his classes he painted, sketched and etched. Most of his etchings were of his own face–not intended as portraits, for they are often purposely disguised. It seemed to be the intent of the artist to run the whole gamut of the passions, portraying them on the human face. Six different etchings done in the year Sixteen Hundred Twenty-eight are to be seen in the British Museum.
His most intimate friend at this time was Jan Lievens. The bond that united them was a mutual contempt for Lastman of Amsterdam. In fact, they organized a club, the single qualification required of each candidate for admittance being a hatred for Lastman. This club met weekly at a beer-hall, and each member had to relate an incident derogatory to the Lastman school. At the close of each story, all solemnly drank eternal perdition to Lastman and his ilk. Finally, Lastman was invited to join; and in reply he wrote a gracious letter of acceptance. This surely shows that Lastman was pretty good quality, after all.
Rembrandt was making money. His pupils spread his praise, and so many new ones came that he took the old quarters of Swanenburch.
In Sixteen Hundred Thirty-one, there came to him a young man who was to build a deathless name for himself–Gerard Dou. Then to complete the circle came Joris van Vliet, whose reputation as an engraver must ever take a first rank. Van Vliet engraved many of Rembrandt’s pictures, and did it so faithfully and with such loving care that copies today command fabulous prices among the collectors. Indeed, we owe to Van Vliet a debt for preserving many of Rembrandt’s pictures, the originals of which have disappeared. With the help of Van Vliet the Elzevirs accomplished their wishes, and so made use of the talent of Rembrandt.
Rembrandt lived among the poor, as a matter of artistic policy, mingling with them on an absolute equality. He considered their attitudes simpler, more natural, and their conduct less artificial, than the manners of those in higher walks.
About Sixteen Hundred Twenty-nine, there came into his hands a set of Callot’s engravings, and the work produced on his mind a profound impression. Callot’s specialty was beggardom. He pictured decrepit beggars, young beggars, handsome girl-beggars, and gallant old beggars who wore their fluttering rags with easy grace.
The man who could give the phlegmatic Rembrandt a list to starboard must have carried considerable ballast. Straightway on making Callot’s acquaintance he went forth with bags of coppers and made the acquaintance of beggars. He did not have to travel far–“the Greeks were at his door.” The news spread, and each morning, the truthful Orles has told us, “there were over four hundred beggars blocking the street that led to his study,” all willing to enlist in the cause of art. For six months Rembrandt painted little beside “the ragged gentry.” But he gradually settled down on about ten separate and distinct types of abject picturesqueness.
Ten years later, when he pictured the “Healing Christ,” he introduced the Leyden beggars, and these fixed types that he carried hidden in the cells of his brain he introduced again and again in various pictures. In this respect he was like all good illustrators: he had his properties, and by new combinations made new pictures. Who has not noticed that every painter carries in his kit his own distinct types–sealed, certified to, and copyrighted by popular favor as his own personal property?
Can you mistake Kemble’s “coons,” Denslow’s dandies, Remington’s horses, Giannini’s Indians, or Gibson’s “Summer Girl”? These men may not be Rembrandts, but when we view the zigzag course art has taken, who dare prophesy that this man’s name is writ in water and that man’s carved in the granite of a mountain-side! Contemporary judgments usually have been wrong. Did the chief citizens of Leyden in the year Sixteen Hundred Thirty regard Rembrandt’s beggars as immortal? Not exactly!