Rembrandt and His Works Part 9

The early pictures, in all ages, either merely indicate the character of bas-reliefs or single statues,--a cold continuity of outline, and an absence of foreshortening. The first move in advance, and that which const.i.tutes their pictorial character, in contradistinction to sculpture, is an a.s.semblage of figures, repeating the various forms contained in the princ.i.p.al ones, and thus rendering them less harsh by extension and doubling of the various shapes, as we often perceive in a first sketch of a work, where the eye of the spectator chooses, out of the multiplicity of outlines, those forms most agreeable to his taste.

The next step to improvement, and giving the work a more natural appearance, is the influence of shadow, so as to make the outlines of the prominent more distinct, and those in the background less harsh and cutting, and consequently more retiring. The application of shadow, however, not only renders works of art more natural, by giving the appearance of advancing and retiring to objects represented upon a flat surface--thus keeping them in their several situations, according to the laws of aerial perspective--but enables the artist to draw attention to the princ.i.p.al points of the story, and likewise to preserve the whole in agreeable form, by losing and p.r.o.nouncing individual parts. Coreggio was the first who carried out this principle to any great extent; but it was reserved for Rembrandt, by his boldness and genius, to put a limit to its further application. Breadth, the const.i.tuent character of this mode of treatment, cannot be extended; indeed, it is said that Rembrandt himself extended it too far; for, absorbing seven-eighths in obscurity and softness, though it renders the remaining portion more brilliant, yet costs too much. This principle, however, contains the greatest poetry of the art, in contradistinction to the severe outline and harsh colouring of the great historical style.

COMPOSITION.

To arrive at a true knowledge of the inventions and compositions of Rembrandt, it is necessary, in the first instance, to examine those of Albert Durer, the Leonardo da Vinci of Germany. The inventions of this extraordinary man are replete with the finest feelings of art, notwithstanding the Gothic dryness and fantastic forms of his figures.

The folds of his draperies are more like creased pieces of paper than cloth, and his representation of the naked is either bloated and coa.r.s.e, or dry and meagre. His backgrounds have all the extravagant characteristics of a German romance, and are totally dest.i.tute of aerial perspective; yet, with the exception of the character of the people and scenery of Nuremburg, he is not more extravagant in his forms than the founder of the Florentine school, and had he been educated in Italy, he in all probability would have rivalled Raffaelle in the purity of his design. In his journal, which he kept when he travelled into the Netherlands, he mentions some prints he sent to Rome, in exchange for those he expected in return, and it is mentioned that Raffaelle admired his works highly. The mult.i.tude of his engravings, both on copper and wood, which were spread over Germany, influenced, in a great degree, the style of composition of those artists who came after him, and accordingly we see many points of coincidence in the compositions of Rembrandt. A century, however, had opened up a greater insight into the mysteries of painting than either Leonardo da Vinci or Albert Durer ever thought of; one alone,--viz. aerial perspective, seems to mark the line between the ancient and modern school; for though Durer invented several instruments for perfecting lineal perspective, his works exhibit no attempt at giving the indistinctness of distant objects. To Rubens, Germany and Holland were indebted for this essential part of the art, so necessary to a true representation of Nature. This great genius, in his contemplation of the works of t.i.tian and others, both at Venice and in Madrid, soon emanc.i.p.ated the art of his country from the Gothic hardness of Lucas Cranach, Van Eyck, and Albert Durer; but notwithstanding his taste and knowledge of what const.i.tuted the higher qualities of the Italian school, the irregular combinations and mult.i.tudinous a.s.semblage of figures found in the early German compositions remained with him to the last. His works are like a melodrama, filled with actors who have no settled action or expression allotted them, while in the works of Raffaelle, and other great composers, the persons introduced are limited to the smallest number necessary to explain the story. This condensing of the interest, if I may use the expression, was borrowed originally from the Greeks, of whose sculptures the Romans availed themselves to a great degree. On the other hand, this looseness of arrangement, and what may be termed ornamental, not only spread through Germany, but infected the schools of Venice; witness the works of Tintoret and Paul Veronese, in which the expression of the countenance absolutely goes for nothing, and the whole arrangement is drawn out in a picturesque point of view, merely to amuse and gratify the eye of the spectator.

Now, with all these infectious examples before him, Rembrandt has done much to concentrate the action, and reduce the number drawn out on the canvas to the mere personages who figure in the history. Witness his "Salutation of the Virgin," in the Marquis of Westminster's collection, which is evidently engendered from the idea contained in the design of Albert Durer. His strict application to nature, while it enabled him to destroy the unmeaning combinations of his predecessors, led him into many errors, by the simple fact of drawing from the people in his presence. But are not others chargeable with some incongruities? Are the Madonnas of Murillo anything but a transcript of the women of Andalusia?

The women of Venice figure in the historical compositions of t.i.tian and Paul Veronese, and the Fornarina of Raffaelle is present in his most sacred subjects; those, therefore, who accuse Rembrandt of vulgarity of form, might with equal justice draw an invidious comparison between cla.s.sic Italian and high Dutch. In many of his compositions he has embodied the highest feeling and sentiment, and in his study of natural simplicity approaches Raffaelle nearer than any of the Flemish or Dutch painters. Of course, as a colourist and master of light and shade, he is all powerful; but I allude, at present, to the mere conception and embodying of his subjects on this head.

Fuseli says,--"Rembrandt was, in my opinion, a genius of the first cla.s.s in whatever relates not to form. In spite of the most portentous deformity, and without considering the spell of his _chiaro-scuro_, such were his powers of nature, such the grandeur, pathos, or simplicity of his composition, from the most elevated or extensive arrangement to the meanest and most homely, that the best cultivated eye, the purest sensibility, and the most refined taste, dwell on them equally enthralled. Shakspere alone excepted, no one combined with so much transcendent excellence so many, in all other men unpardonable, faults,--and reconciled us to them. He possessed the full empire of light and shade, and of all the tints that float between them; he tinged his pencil with equal success in the cool of dawn, in the noon-day ray, in the livid flash, in evanescent twilight, and rendered darkness visible. Though made to bend a steadfast eye on the bolder phenomena of nature, yet he knew how to follow her into her calmest abodes, gave interest to insipidity and baldness, and plucked a flower in every desert. None ever, like Rembrandt, knew how to improve an accident into a beauty, or give importance to a trifle. If ever he had a master, he had no followers; Holland was not made to comprehend his power."

And in another lecture, speaking of the advantage of a low horizon, he says:--"What gives sublimity to Rembrandt's Ecce h.o.m.o more than this principle? a composition which, though complete, hides in its grandeur the limits of its scenery. Its form is a pyramid, whose top is lost in the sky, as its base in tumultuous murky waves. From the fluctuating crowds who inundate the base of the tribunal, we rise to Pilate, surrounded and perplexed by the varied ferocity of the sanguinary synod to whose remorseless gripe he surrenders his wand, and from him we ascend to the sublime resignation of innocence in Christ, and, regardless of the roar, securely repose on his countenance. Such is the grandeur of a conception, which in its blaze absorbs the abominable detail of materials too vulgar to be mentioned. Had the materials been equal to the conception and composition, the Ecce h.o.m.o of Rembrandt, even unsupported by the magic of its light and shade, or his spell of colours, would have been an a.s.semblage of superhuman powers."

Reynolds, in his Eighth Discourse, speaking of the annoyance the mind feels at the display of too much variety and contrast, proceeds to say:--"To apply these general observations, which belong equally to all arts, to ours in particular. In a composition, where the objects are scattered and divided into many equal parts, the eye is perplexed and fatigued, from not knowing where to find the princ.i.p.al action, or which is the princ.i.p.al figure; for where all are making equal pretensions to notice, all are in equal danger of neglect. The expression which is used very often on these occasions is, the piece wants repose--a word which perfectly expresses a relief of the mind from that state of hurry and anxiety which it suffers when looking at a work of this character. On the other hand, absolute unity, that is, a large work consisting of one group or ma.s.s of light only, would be as defective as an heroic poem without episode, or any collateral incidents to recreate the mind with that variety which it requires. An instance occurs to me of two painters (Rembrandt and Poussin) of characters totally opposite to each other in every respect, but in nothing more than in their mode of composition and management of light and shadow. Rembrandt's manner is absolute unity; he often has but one group, and exhibits little more than one spot of light in the midst of a large quant.i.ty of shadow: if he has a second ma.s.s that second bears no proportion to the princ.i.p.al. Poussin, on the contrary, has scarcely any principle ma.s.s of light at all, and his figures are often too much dispersed, without sufficient attention to place them in groups. The conduct of these two painters is entirely the reverse of what might be expected from their general style and character, the works of Poussin being as much distinguished for simplicity as those of Rembrandt for combination. Even this conduct of Poussin might proceed from too great affection to simplicity of another kind, too great a desire to avoid the ostentation of art with regard to light and shadow, on which Rembrandt so much wished to draw the attention; however, each of them ran into contrary extremes, and it is difficult to determine which is the most reprehensible, both being equally distant from the demands of nature and the purposes of art."

This unity is observable in the composition of Rembrandt; even where a multiplicity of figures are employed, they are so grouped that the ma.s.ses of light and shade are interrupted as little as possible; and it is only in his earlier works, such as those now in the Munich Gallery, where this isolated light is carried to extravagance. In many of his later pictures, we have not only subordinate groups, but a repet.i.tion of the princ.i.p.al lights; also a greater breadth of half-tint.

"Composition," says Reynolds, "which is the princ.i.p.al part of the invention of a painter, is by far the greatest difficulty he has to encounter. Every man that can paint at all, can execute individual parts; but to keep these parts in due subordination as relative to a whole, requires a comprehensive view of the art, that more strongly implies genius than perhaps any other quality whatever." Now Rembrandt possessed this power in an eminent degree. At the revival of painting in Italy, the compositions consisted entirely of subjects taken from Sacred Writ--subjects that imposed a purity of thought and a primitive simplicity upon the artists; these qualities were, however, in a great measure lost in pa.s.sing through the Venetian and German schools, where either the love for pictorial effect or the introduction of catholic ceremonies took precedence of every other arrangement. The prolific genius of Rubens spread this infectious mode of treatment through Flanders and Holland, till at length, in the hands of the painters of smoking and drinking scenes, historical subjects, even of a sacred character, became quite ridiculous. Yet, with all these examples of bad and vulgar taste around him, we find many compositions of Rembrandt less degraded by mean representation than many of the best of the works of the Venetian and Flemish painters. Take, for example, his design of Christ and his Disciples at Emmaus, the princ.i.p.al figure in which is certainly more refined than the Christ either in the pictures of t.i.tian or Rubens of the same subject; in fact, the idea of it is taken from the Last Supper, by Raffaelle, (the Mark Antonio print of which he must have had.) Raffaelle is indebted for the figure to Leonardo da Vinci; and if we were to trace back, I have no doubt we should find that the Milanese borrowed it from an earlier master; indeed, we perceive in the progress of painting much of the primitive simplicity and uniformity preserved in the best works of the Italian school. It was only when composition pa.s.sed through the prolific minds of such artists as Paul Veronese, Tintoret, and Rubens, that it was made subservient to the bustle, animation, and picturesque effect of their works. When we find, therefore, any remains revived in the pictures of Rembrandt, who was surrounded by compositions of a vulgar and low cast, we can only ascribe it to the taste and genius of this great painter. In the design just mentioned, the idea of the Disciples, as if struck with astonishment and awe at the bursting forth of the divinity of Christ, is admirably conceived. As the heads are taken from the people of his country, they of necessity partake of the character of the people. This cannot be justified, though it is excusable. Reynolds, on this head, speaking of the enn.o.bling of the characters in an historical picture, says, "How much the great style exacts from its professors to conceive and represent their subjects in a poetical manner, not confined to mere matter of fact, may be seen in the Cartoons of Raffaelle. In all the pictures in which the painter has represented the apostles, he has drawn them with great n.o.bleness; he has given them as much dignity as the human figure is capable of receiving. Yet we are expressly told in Scripture they had no such respectable appearance; and of St. Paul in particular we are told by himself that his _bodily_ presence was _mean_. In conformity to custom, I call this part of the art History Painting: it ought to be called Poetical, as in reality it is." He further adds, "The painter has no other means of giving an idea of the mind but by that external appearance which grandeur of thought does generally, though not always, impress on the countenance, and by that correspondence of figure to sentiment and situation which all men wish, but cannot command." As I cannot defend the mean appearance of the disciples, neither shall I exculpate our great artist from blame in introducing a dog into so grand a subject; we can only excuse him on the plea of following the practice of his predecessors. t.i.tian, in his celebrated picture, has not only introduced a dog, but a cat also, which is quarrelling with the former for a bone under the table. To this love for the introduction of animals into their compositions, for the sake of picturesque variety, many of the greatest painters must plead guilty; and though the incongruity has been pointed out over and over again by the writers on art, it is still clung to as means of contrast with the human figure. In one of the sketches by the late Sir D. Wilkie for his picture of "Finding the Body of Tippoo Saib," he had introduced two dogs, and only obliterated them when informed that dogs were considered unclean by the people of the east, and therefore it was an impossibility for them to be in the palace of Seringapatam. While I am upon this subject, it may not be amiss to refer to one of the authorities who censures this practice. Fresnoy says, in his poem on the "Art of Painting,"

"Nec quod inane, nihil facit ad rem sive videtur Improprium minimeque urgens potiora tenebit Ornamenta operis."

"Nor paint conspicuous on the foremost plain, Whate'er is false, impertinent, or vain."

MASON.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHRIST AND HIS DISCIPLES AT EMMAUS]

On this rule, Reynolds remarks--"This precept, so obvious to common sense, appears superfluous till we recollect that some of the greatest painters have been guilty of a breach of it; for--not to mention Paul Veronese or Rubens, whose principles as ornamental painters would allow great lat.i.tude in introducing animals, or whatever they might think necessary to contrast or make the composition more picturesque--we can no longer wonder why the poet has thought it worth setting a guard against this impropriety, when we find that such men as Raffaelle and the Caracci, in their greatest and most serious works, have introduced on the foreground mean and frivolous circ.u.mstances. Such improprieties, to do justice to the more modern painters, are seldom found in their works. The only excuse that can be made for those great artists, is their living in an age when it was the custom to mix the ludicrous with the serious, and when poetry as well as painting gave in to this fas.h.i.+on."

Many of the compositions of Rembrandt indicate not only a refined taste, but the greatest sensibility and feeling. For example, the small etchings of the "Burial of Christ," and the "Return from Jerusalem;"

these, from their slightness, may lay me under the same category as the old Greek, who, having a house to sell, carried in his pocket one of the bricks as a sample; yet, being his own indications, I have given them.

It is worth while to compare the "Entombment" with the same subject by Raffaelle, in the Crozat Collection. The whole arrangement is treated in the finest taste of the Italian school. The other design has been always a favourite with the admirers of Rembrandt. The feeling character of the youthful Saviour is admirably portrayed. Holding his mother's hand, he is cheering her on her tiring journey, looking in her face with an expression of affection and solace; while she is represented with downcast eyes, fatigued and "pondering in her mind" the import of the words he had addressed to her, "How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?" And even here we can almost excuse the introduction of the little dog, who, running before the group, is looking back, giving a bark of joy at their having found the object of their solicitude. The background is conceived in the finest spirit of t.i.tian.

These are the touches of nature that, like the expressions of our own immortal Shakspere, however slight, and though dressed in modern garb or familiar language, reach the innermost sensibilities of the human heart.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE ENTOMBMENT]

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE RETURN FROM JERUSALEM]

The character and costume of the people, as well as the scenery of those subjects taken from Holy Writ, have been a matter of investigation both by artists and writers upon art; for although the events related in the New Testament are not of so ancient a date as those of the heathen writers, yet the mind seems to require that the style should be neither cla.s.sic nor too strictly local. Hence, though the costume represented in the Venetian pictures is no doubt nearer the truth than that made use of by Raffaelle and other Italians, it fails to carry us back to ancient and primitive simplicity. The early pictures delineating Christian subjects are modelled upon Greek forms and dresses, and having been made the foundation of those works afterwards produced by the great restorers of painting, have gained a hold upon our ideas, which, if not impossible, is yet difficult to throw off. As the late Sir David Wilkie travelled into the East with the express purpose of painting the subjects mentioned in Scripture in more strict accordance with the people and their habits, it may be of advantage to give the student his opinions. In his Journal, he says--"After seeing with great attention the city of Jerusalem and the district of Syria that extends from Jaffa to the river Jordan, I am satisfied it still presents a new field for the genius of Scripture painting to work upon. It is true the great Italian painters have created an art, the highest of its kind, peculiar to the subjects of sacred history; and in some of their examples, whether from facility of inquiry or from imagination, have come very near all the view of Syria could supply. The Venetians, (perhaps from their intercourse with Cyprus and the Levant,) t.i.tian, Paul Veronese, and Sebastian del Piombo, have in their pictures given the nearest appearance to a Syrian people. Michael Angelo, too, from his generalizing style, has brought some of his prophets and sybils to resemble the old Jews about the streets of the Holy City; but in general, though the aspect of Nature will sometimes recall the finest ideas of Leonardo da Vinci and Raffaelle, yet these masters still want much that could be supplied here, and have a great deal of matters quite contrary to what the country could furnish. These contrarieties, indeed, are so great, that in discussions with the learned here, I find a disposition to that kind of change that would soon set aside the whole system of Italian and European art; but as these changes go too much upon the supposition that the manners of Scripture are precisely represented by the present race in Syria, it is too sweeping to be borne out by what we actually know. At the same time, there are so many objects in this country so perfectly described, so incapable of change, and that give such an air of truth to the local allusions of Sacred Writ, that one can scarcely imagine that these, had they been known to the painters of Italy, would not have added to the impressive power of their works. Without trying to take from the grand impression produced by the reading of the Sacred Writings, it may be said that from its nature many things must be confined to narrative, to description, to precept--and these are no doubt so strong as to supply to a pious mind everything that can be desired; but if these are to be represented, as certainly they have been, by those of an art who have not seen Syria, it is clear some other country, Italy, Spain, or Flanders, will be drawn upon to supply this, and the reader of Scripture and the admirer of art will be alike deluded by the representation of a strange country in the place of that so selected and so identified as the Land of Promise--so well known and so graphically described from the first to the last of the inspired writers."

These remarks are certainly applicable, but only in a degree. What is quoted from Reynolds, in a former part, shows that a licence is indispensable; and yet, without destroying the apparent truth of the subject, many things are now established that, without their being facts, have taken such hold of our ideas that they cannot with safety be departed from. I may instance the countenances of our Saviour and the Virgin, as given by Raffaelle and Coreggio--we recognise them as if they had been painted from the persons themselves; I may also add the heads of the Apostles. With regard to the scenery, many circ.u.mstances may certainly be taken advantage of, always guarding against a topographical appearance that, by its locality, may prevent the work leading the spectator back into distant periods of time. Before quitting this part of the subject, which refers to Rembrandt's powers of composition, I may notice one or two of his designs, which stamp him as a great genius in this department of the art--viz., his "Christ Healing the Sick," "Haman and Mordecai," the "Ecce h.o.m.o," "Christ Preaching," and the "Death of the Virgin."

CHIARO-SCURO.

From the position we are now placed in, surrounded by the acc.u.mulated talent of many centuries, it is easy to take a retrospective view of the progress of art; and it is only by so doing that we can arrive at a just estimate of the great artists who advanced it beyond the age in which they lived, and this seems mainly to have been achieved by a close observance of nature. As in philosophy the genius of Bacon, by investigating the phenomena of visible objects, put to flight and dissipated the learned dogmas of the school of Aristotle, so in sculpture the purity and simplicity of the forms of Phidias established a line of demarcation between his own works and those of the formal, symmetrical, and dry sculpture of his predecessors. Sculpture, till then, lay fettered and bound up in the severity of Egyptian Hieroglyphics. Likewise we perceive the genius of Michael Angelo and Raffaelle setting aside the stiffness and profile character existing in the works of Signorelli and Masaccio. In Venice, t.i.tian emanc.i.p.ated the arts from the grasp of Giovanni Bellini. In Germany, Rubens must be considered the great translator of art out of a dead language into a living one, to use a metaphor, and into one that, like music, is universal. Previous to Rembrandt, the pupils of Rubens had thrown off every affinity not only to Gothic stiffness, but even to that degree of regularity of composition which all cla.s.ses of historical subjects require. Independent of Rubens and his pupils, we find Rembrandt was aware of the great advances made in natural representations of objects by Adrian Brauwer, (several of whose works, by the catalogue given of his effects, were in his possession;) therefore, as far as transparency and richness, with a truthfulness of tint, are concerned, Brauwer had set an example. But in the works of Rembrandt we perceive a peculiarity entirely his own--that of enveloping parts in beautiful obscurity, and the light again emerging from the shadow, like the softness of moonlight partially seen through demi-transparent clouds, and leaving large ma.s.ses of undefined objects in darkness. This principle he applied to compositions of even a complicated character, and their bustle and noise were swallowed up in the stillness of shadow. If breadth const.i.tutes grandeur, Rembrandt's works are exemplifications of mysterious sublimity to the fullest extent. This "darkness visible," as Milton expresses it, belongs to the great founder of the school of Holland, and to him alone.

Flinck, Dietricy, De Guelder, and others his pupils, give no idea of it; their works are warm, but they are without redeeming cool tints; they are yellow without pearly tones; and in place of leading the eye of the spectator into the depths of aerial perspective, the whole work appears on the surface of the panel. There are none of those shadows "hanging in mid air," which const.i.tute so captivating a charm in the great magician of chiaro-scuro; not only are objects of solidity surrounded by softening obscurity, but the contiguous atmosphere gives indications of the influence of the light and shade. To these principles the art is indebted for breadth and fulness of effect, which const.i.tute the distinct characteristics between the early state and its maturity--and to Rembrandt we owe the perfection of this fascinating quality.

We must, nevertheless, always look back with wonder at what was achieved by Coreggio. Even when painting flourished under the guidance of Leonardo da Vinci and Giorgione, Reynolds, speaking of this quality in contradistinction to that of relief, says, "This favourite quality of giving objects relief, and which De Piles and all the critics have considered as a requisite of the greatest importance, was not one of those objects which much engaged the attention of t.i.tian. Painters of an inferior rank have far exceeded him in producing this effect. This was a great object of attention when art was in its infant state, as it is at present with the vulgar and ignorant, who feel the highest satisfaction in seeing a figure which, as they say, looks as if they could walk round it. But however low I might rate this pleasure of deception, I should not oppose it, did it not oppose itself to a quality of a much higher kind, by counteracting entirely that fulness of manner which is so difficult to express in words, but which is found in perfection in the best works of Coreggio, and, we may add, of Rembrandt. This effect is produced by melting and losing the shadows in a ground still darker than those shadows; whereas that relief is produced by opposing and separating the ground from the figure, either by light, or shadow, or colour. This conduct of inlaying, as it may be called, figures on their ground, in order to produce relief, was the practice of the old painters, such as Andrea Mantegna, Pietro Perugino, and Albert Durer, and to these we may add the first manner of Leonardo da Vinci, Giorgione, and even Coreggio; but these three were among the first who began to correct themselves in dryness of style, by no longer considering relief as a princ.i.p.al object. As those two qualities, relief and fulness of effect, can hardly exist together, it is not very difficult to determine to which we ought to give the preference.

An artist is obliged for ever to hold a balance in his hand, by which he must determine the value of different qualities, that when some fault must be committed, he may choose the least. Those painters who have best understood the art of producing a good effect have adopted one principle that seems perfectly conformable to reason--that a part may be sacrificed for the good of the whole. Thus, whether the ma.s.ses consist of light or shadow, it is necessary that they should be compact and of a pleasing shape; to this end, some parts may be made darker and some lighter, and reflections stronger than nature would warrant. Paul Veronese took great liberties of this kind. It is said, that being once asked why certain figures were painted in shade, as no cause was seen in the picture itself, he turned off the inquiry by answering, 'Una nuevola che pa.s.sa,'--a cloud is pa.s.sing, which has overshadowed them."

Before entering more minutely into an investigation of the principles of Rembrandt with regard to chiaro-scuro, I must again revert to those of Coreggio. Opie, speaking of the method of this great artist, says, "To describe his practice will be in a great degree to repeat my observations on chiaro-scuro in its enlarged sense. By cla.s.sing his colours, and judiciously dividing them into few and large ma.s.ses of bright and obscure, gently rounding off his light, and pa.s.sing, by almost imperceptible degrees, through pellucid demi-tints and warm reflections into broad, deep, and transparent shade, he artfully connected the finest extremes of light and shadow, harmonized the most intense opposition of colours, and combined the greatest possible effect with the sweetest and softest repose imaginable." Further on, he remarks--"The turn of his thoughts, also, in regard to particular subjects, was often in the highest degree poetical and uncommon, of which it will be sufficient to give as an instance his celebrated _Notte_, or painting of the 'Nativity of Christ,' in which his making all the light of the picture emanate from the child, striking upwards on the beautiful face of the mother, and in all directions on the surrounding objects, may challenge comparison with any invention in the whole circle of art, both for the splendour and sweetness of effect, which nothing can exceed, and for its happy appropriation to the person of Him who was born to dispel the clouds of ignorance, and diffuse the light of truth over a darkened world!" Now, this work Rembrandt must have seen, or at least a copy from it, as his treatment of the same subject, in the National Gallery, indicates; but the poetry is lost, for it would be impossible to imitate it without a direct plagiarism. It may, however, have given a turn to his thoughts, in representing many of his subjects under the influence of night in place of day, such as his "Taking down from the Cross," by torch light; his "Flight into Egypt,"

with the lantern; the "Burial of Christ," &c. While other men were painting daylight, he turned the day into night, which is one of the paths that sublimity travels through. The general idea most people have of Rembrandt is, that he is one of the dark masters: but his shadows are not black, they are filled with transparency. The backgrounds to his portraits are less dark than many of either t.i.tian or Tintoret. His landscapes are not black, they are the soft emanations of twilight; and when he leads you through the shadows of night, you see the path, even in the deepest obscurity. As colour forms a const.i.tuent part of chiaro-scuro, I must, in this division, confine myself more particularly to black and white, both in giving examples from his etchings, and explaining the various changes he made upon them in order to heighten the effect. The etching I have here given is the "Nativity," in the darkest state; in the British Museum there are no less than seven varieties, and the first state is the lightest. But in order to render his mode of proceeding more intelligible, I shall explain the progress of his working. His first etchings are often bit in with the aquafortis, when the shadows have but few ways crossed with the etching point: these are often strongly bit in, that, when covered over with finer lines, the first may s.h.i.+ne through, and give transparency. In the next process he seems to have taken off the etching ground, and laid over the plate a transparent ground, (that is to say, one not darkened by the smoke of a candle;) upon this he worked up his effect by a multiplicity of fresh lines, often altering his forms, and adding new objects, as the idea seemed to rise in his mind. After which, when the plate was again subjected to the operation of the acid, the etching ground was removed, and the whole worked up with the greatest delicacy and softness by means of the dry needle, to the scratches of which the aquafortis is never applied. This process it is that gives what is termed the _burr_, and renders the etchings of Rembrandt different from all others. Now this _burr_ is produced, not by the ink going into the lines, but by the printer being obstructed in wiping it off by the raised edge which the dry point has forced up; for when these lines run through deep shadows, we often see that they print white, from the ink being wiped off the top of the ridge.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE NATIVITY]

This is the foundation of what is called mezzotint engraving, which I shall notice in another place. By keeping these remarks in mind, we shall easily perceive how it is that so many variations occur in impressions from his plates, depending entirely on the direction in which the printer wiped off the ink--whether across the ridges, or in the same direction as the lines. Varieties have also arisen from these ridges wearing away by the friction of the hand; and as Rembrandt's copper plates, judging from those I have examined, were soft, they soon wore down. We also find this dark effect given in many of his varieties by merely leaving the surface partially wiped, and touching out the high lights with his finger, or a piece of leather. These impressions must have been taken by himself, or, at least, under his superintendence.

Several of his plates are worked on with the graver, such as his "Taking down from the Cross;" but that evidently is by the hand of an engraver.

We see the same in several of the etchings of Vand.y.k.e, but their value decreases as the finis.h.i.+ng extends.

While we are upon the subject of his etchings, it will, perhaps, be of use to confine the conduct of his chiaro-scuro to his etchings alone, as his treatment is very different to what he adopted when he had colour to deal with; and in this respect he must have been influenced by the example of Rubens and Vand.y.k.e, proofs of all the engravings after whose pictures we perceive he had in his possession. In order that we may more clearly understand the reason of many of his etchings remaining unfinished in parts, while other portions are worked up with the greatest care, I shall give an extract from the Journal of Sir Joshua Reynolds, when in Flanders. In describing a picture in the Church of the Recollets, at Antwerp, he says:--"Over the altar of the choir is the famous 'Crucifixion of Christ between two Thieves,' by Rubens. To give animation to this subject, he has chosen the point of time when an executioner is piercing the side of Christ, whilst another, with a bar of iron, is breaking the limbs of one of the malefactors, who, in his convulsive agony, which his body admirably expresses, has torn one of his feet from the tree to which it was nailed. The expression in the action of this figure is wonderful. The att.i.tude of the other is more composed, and he looks at the dying Christ with a countenance perfectly expressive of his penitence. This figure is likewise admirable. The Virgin, St. John, and Mary the wife of Cleophas, are standing by, with great expression of grief and resignation; whilst the Magdalen, who is at the feet of Christ, and may be supposed to have been kissing his feet, looks at the horseman with the spear with a countenance of great horror. As the expression carries with it no grimace or contortion of the features, the beauty is not destroyed. This is by far the most beautiful profile I ever saw of Rubens, or, I think, of any other painter. The excellence of its colouring is beyond expression. To say that she may be supposed to have been kissing Christ's feet, may be thought too refined a criticism; but Rubens certainly intended to convey that idea, as appears by the disposition of her hands, for they are stretched out towards the executioner, and one of them is before and one behind the cross, which gives an idea of their having been round it. And it must be remembered that she is generally represented as kissing the feet of Christ: it is her place and employment in those subjects. The good Centurion ought not to be forgotten--who is leaning forward, one hand on the other, resting on the mane of his horse, while he looks at Christ with great earnestness. The genius of Rubens nowhere appears to more advantage than here; it is the most carefully finished picture of all his works. The whole is conducted with the most consummate art.

The composition is bold and uncommon, with circ.u.mstances which no other painter had ever before thought of--such as the breaking of the limbs, and the expression of the Magdalen; to which we may add the disposition of the three crosses, which are placed perspectively, in a very picturesque manner--the nearest bears the thief whose limbs they are breaking; the next the Christ, whose figure is straighter than ordinary, as a contrast to the others; and the furthermost the penitent thief.

This produces a most interesting effect, but it is what few but such a daring genius as Rubens would have attempted. It is here, and in such compositions, that we properly see Rubens, and not in little pictures of Madonnas and Bambinos. It appears that Rubens made some changes in this picture after Bolswert had engraved it. The horseman who is in the act of piercing the side of Christ holds the spear, according to the print, in a very tame manner, with the back of the hand over the spear, grasping it with only three fingers, the forefinger lying straight over the spear; whereas, in the picture, the back of the hand comes _under_ the spear, and he grasps it with his whole force. The other defect, which is remedied in the picture, is the action of the executioner who breaks the legs of the criminal: in the print, both of his hands are over the bar of iron, which makes a false action; in the picture, the whole disposition is altered to the natural manner in which every person holds a weapon which requires both hands--the right is placed over, and the left under it. This print was undoubtedly done under the inspection of Rubens himself. It may be worth observing, that the keeping of the ma.s.ses of light in the print differs much from the picture; this change is not from inattention, but design; a different conduct is required in a composition with colours from what ought to be followed _when it is in black and white only_. We have here the authority of this great master of light and shadow, that a print requires more and larger ma.s.ses of light than a picture. In this picture, the princ.i.p.al and the strongest light is the body of Christ, which is of a remarkably clear and bright colour. This is strongly opposed by the very brown complexion of the thieves, (perhaps the opposition here is too violent,) who make no great effect as to light; the Virgin's outer drapery is dark blue, and the inner a dark purple, and St. John is in dark strong red. No part of these two figures is light in the picture but the head and hands of the Virgin, but in the print, they make the princ.i.p.al ma.s.s of light of the whole composition. The engraver has certainly produced a fine effect, and I suspect it is as certain that if this change had not been made, it would have appeared a black and heavy print. When Rubens thought it necessary, in the print, to make a ma.s.s of light of the drapery of the Virgin and St. John, it was likewise necessary that it should be of a beautiful shape, and be kept compact; it therefore became necessary to darken the whole figure of the Magdalen, which in the picture is at least as light as the body of Christ; her head, linen, arms, hair, and the feet of Christ, make a ma.s.s as light as the body of Christ.

It appears, therefore, that some parts are to be darkened, as well as other parts made lighter. This, consequently, is a science which an engraver ought well to understand before he can presume to venture on any alteration from the picture he means to represent. The same thing may be remarked in many other prints by those engravers who were employed by Rubens and Vand.y.k.e; they always gave more light than they were warranted by the picture--a circ.u.mstance which may merit the attention of engravers."

As most of these engravings were made from studies in black and white, perhaps reduced from the picture by the engraver, but certainly touched on afterwards by the painters themselves, they form a school for the study of light and shade when deprived of colour. In the etchings of Rembrandt, therefore, we ought to bear in mind that splendour of effect was what he aimed at, and the means adopted by Rubens and Vand.y.k.e were carried still further by the fearless master of chiaro-scuro. Now that the eye has been accustomed to engravings where the local colour is rendered, when we look over a folio of the works of Bolswert, Soutman, Pontius, and others of the Flemish engravers, they appear, notwithstanding their overpowering depth and brilliancy, unfinished, from the lights of the several coloured draperies and the flesh tones being left white. They also occasionally look spotty in effect, from the extreme strength of the shadows and black draperies. In Rembrandt's works these defects are avoided, by finis.h.i.+ng his darks with the greatest care and softness, while the figures in the light ma.s.ses are often left in mere outline: the lights are also reduced in size as they enter the shade; while the darks in the light portions of his prints are circ.u.mscribed to a mere point, for the purpose of giving a balance and solidity. The shadows of the several objects likewise a.s.sume a greater delicacy as they enter into the ma.s.ses of light. In these respects, the Hundred Guilder print is a striking example.

As we are now considering light and shade when unaccompanied by colour, I may notice that those portions where the dark and light ma.s.ses come in contact are the places where both the rounding of the objects by making out the forms, and also the patching down the half-tint with visible lines, may be followed out with the greatest success, as it prevents the work being heavy in effect, and also a.s.sists the pa.s.sage of the light into the shadow. The quality of the lights and darks is flatness. The Flemish engravers seem to have been very particular in the method of producing their shadow, both with regard to the direction of the lines, and also their repet.i.tion; their object seems to have been intenseness of dark with transparency of execution. In a conversation with Sir Thomas Lawrence upon the subject of shadows, his ideas were that they ought to be as still as possible, and that all the little sparkling produced by the crossing of the lines ought to be extinguished, or softened down. In painting, his notions were that they ought to be kept cool. Without presuming to differ with so excellent an artist, it is but proper to mention that all the best engravers, from the time of Bolswert to our own, are of a contrary opinion; and our best colourists, from Coreggio to Rembrandt, and from Rembrandt to Wilkie, were diametrically opposite in their practice. As far as engraving is concerned, it is but fair to notice that Lawrence had Rembrandt on his side, of whose works he was a great admirer.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DOCTOR FAUSTUS]

I may appear to have dwelt too long upon this subject of engraving, but as the etchings of Rembrandt form so large a portion of his popularity, we cannot enter too minutely into the various sources of their excellence. I shall now proceed to describe the etching of "Doctor Faustus," a copy of which I have given. Some think that it represents Fust, the partner of Guttenburg, who, by his publication of Bibles in Paris, was looked upon by the people as a dealer in the black art. The papers hung up by the side of the window look like the sheets of his letter-press, and the diagram that attracts his attention, and rouses him from his desk, indicates by words and symbols a connexion with Holy Writ. But the general opinion is, that it is Dr. John Faustus, a German physician, in his study. This Dr. Faustus was supposed to have dealings with familiar spirits, one of which has raised this cabalistic vision, that enters the window with overwhelming splendour, like the bursting of a sh.e.l.l, communicating its radiance to the head and breast of the figure, and, descending by his variegated garment, is extended in a spread of light over the whole lower part of the composition. The light of the window being surrounded by a ma.s.s of dark, receives intense importance, and is carried as far as the art can go. It is also, I may observe, rendered less harsh and cutting by its s.h.i.+ning through the papers at the side, and by the interruption of the rays of the diagram.

The light pa.s.sing behind the figure, and partially thrown upon a skull, gives an awe-striking appearance to the whole; while the flat breadth of light below is left intentionally with the objects in mere outline. This etching seems never to have been touched on from the first impressions to the last--the first state is dark with excess of burr; the last is merely the burr worn off.

Before quitting this subject, I wish to make a few remarks. It has been said by some of Rembrandt's biographers, that he made alterations in his prints for the sake of enhancing their value; but we know by experience that every alteration he made, however it might be for the better, struck off a certain portion of its money value. I believe his desire to better the effect was the only incitement. Many were improved by his working upon them after the first proofs, and many were deteriorated in effect; but every additional line at the least struck off a guilder.

I have mentioned that in this etching the brilliancy of the light in the window is enhanced by its being surrounded by a ma.s.s of dark; but the same advantage would have accrued from its extension by a ma.s.s of half light, as it would then have had a greater breadth of soft light. This subject was a great favourite with the late Sir David Wilkie, and he introduced this window in his picture of "The School;" but this being a light composition, he treated it in the way I have mentioned above.

It was a common practice with Wilkie to adopt some part of a celebrated work as a point to work from, and carry out his design upon this suggestion. The spectator, by this means, was drawn into a predisposition of its excellence, without knowing whence it had arisen.

Thus, in his "John Knox Preaching," there are many points of similarity with the "St. Paul Preaching," by Raffaelle. I may also mention here what we often perceive in the works of Rembrandt--in place of having the light hemmed in by a dark boundary, it is spread out into a ma.s.s of half-light; and the same treatment is adopted with regard to his extreme darks, they communicate their properties to the surrounding ground.

These qualities are the foundation of breadth and softness of effect.

These observations may appear iterations of what has been mentioned before--but truths get strengthened by being placed in new positions.

In dividing a work of this kind into portions, it is difficult to give a preference to any department, especially with such an artist as Rembrandt, who was equally celebrated in all--and I have only given a priority to historical subjects as they hold a higher rank than portraiture. But his portraits are those productions of his pencil which are most peculiar to himself.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BURGOMASTER SIX]

PORTRAIT OF THE BURGOMASTER SIX.