In the course of the same year, we hear of the last pupil coming to Rembrandt, Aert de Gelder, whose youthful enthusiasm may have brought some brightness, we may hope, into the life of the poor broken old man. Meanwhile, the echoes of the law courts still rumbled in his ears, for, on December 22nd, Isaac Van Heertsbeeck, who had evidently not complied with the previous order of the Court in 1660, was again commanded to refund the 4200 florins, and again appealed.

Rembrandt had by then so completely dropped out of public ken, that we only get dim and fleeting glimpses of him. In 1664, we hear of him moving to the Lauriergracht, still farther to the south-east, and it is not until affairs draw him from seclusion that we learn more of him, and then only indirectly. We may, perhaps, conclude, however, from the scarcity of his works during these last years, that his eyes, and possibly general health, were getting ever worse.

On January 27th, 1665, van Heertsbeeck's protracted struggle came to an end, and the Grand Council decided that by June 20th the money must be repaid. On June 19th, Rembrandt and Titus appealed to the law to anticipate the coming of age of the latter, so that he might be legally considered of years of discretion before the actual arrival of his twenty-fifth birthday, a request which must have been connected with a foreknowledge of the decision delivered the next day, June 20th, in favour of Louis Crayers. This meant that the rights of Titus to the full amount of his mother's fortune of 20,375 florins were allowed; but only 6952 florins remained, and of this, on November 5th, Titus was authorised to take possession in his own name. It was but a scanty fraction of what he should have had, but it was something, and the little windfall may have had some part in the return of the family to the Rozengracht. Of the next two years we know nothing, except that we learn from a portrait of Jeremias de Decker, a poet who wrote eulogistic verses on the painter, that neither the man nor the artist was entirely neglected. The first sounds that come again to us out of the darkness are those of wedding bells on the occasion of the marriage of Titus with his cousin Magdalena, the daughter of Cornelia van Uylenborch and of Albert van Loo, whose quarrel with Rembrandt years before had clearly been forgotten. The note of merriment was, however, too quickly changed for one of dolour, for ere the year was out Titus was dead, as we learn from the record of his burial in the Westerkerk, on September 4th, 1668.

In March 1669, the widowed Magdalena gave birth to a daughter, and, on the twenty-second of that month, Rembrandt stood by while the only grandchild he was to see was christened Titia. We catch thereafter some murmurs of that business which he so hated, in connection with the settlement of the respective shares which the little Titia and Cornelia were to draw from the remainder of the old association between their respective parents; and then again comes silence, until, from an entry in the Doelboek, the registry of deaths in the Westerkerk, we learn that the long, slow, downward path has ended, where all paths end, in the grave.

"Tuesday, 8 October, 1669, Rembrandt van Rijn, painter, on the Rozengracht, opposite the Doolhof. Leaves two children."

He was buried, at the cost of thirteen florins, at the foot of a staircase leading up to a pulpit on a pillar on the left-hand side as you go up the church; but when, some years back, a coffin, supposed to have been his, was opened, not a trace of his ashes was to be found.

The subsequent history of the family may be briefly sketched. Within a fortnight of Rembrandt's death, on October 13th, his daughter-in-law Magdalena was also dead. On the 16th and 18th of March, and again on April 15th, Abraham Francen, the old and faithful friend, and Christian Dusart, acting on behalf of Cornelia, settled with François van Bylert, acting on behalf of the baby Titia, their respective portions of the small inheritance. François would seem to have been a kindly guardian, and Titia to have had a happy home, for, on June 16th, 1686, at the church of Slooten, she married his son, also named François, a jeweller, living in the Kloveniers-Burgwal, in the heart of her native town. Here she bore, and buried also in the Westerkirk, three children, one in 1688, one in 1695, and one in 1698, and herself died November 22nd, 1725, leaving a fourth child, who only survived her three years.

Cornelia married a man named Suythoff, and with him travelled to Java, where, in the town of Batavia, she gave birth to two sons, one on December 5th, 1673, called Rembrandt, the other, on July 14th, 1678, named Hendrick.

REMBRANDT THE PAINTER

CHAPTER V

The other picture known to belong to this first year, "St Paul in Prison," is in the Museum at Stuttgart [No. 225], and presents much the same merits of close observation, much the same defects of timid execution as the last. It represents the saint seated in a straw-strewn dungeon, lighted by a single beam of sunlight, surrounded by books, with the sword that symbolises him, meditating before writing. The signature in this case is a double one: the first, consisting of his full name, with one of his curious mis-spellings, Rembrand, and underneath fecit; the second an elaborate R followed by f. 1627, and below the down stroke, crossing the tail of the R, a smaller L, which Dr Bode suggests stands for Leydensis.

Three other pictures, all undated, are attributed to this year or the next, a "Philosopher reading by Candle-light," painted on copper, "A Study of Himself," at Cassel [No. 208], and a "Portrait of his Mother," which was lent for a time to the Ryksmuseum at Amsterdam, but is there no longer.

In the Cassel picture, small as it is, the breadth and vigour of treatment, the courage of the work are so remarkable that it is difficult to believe that it is of the same period as the previous pictures. It is a study of little more than the head, presenting one of those effects of contrasted light and shade which he so loved that pseudo-art slang has nicknamed them of late years Rembrandt effects. The shadows are a little dark, the contrasts are a little forced, wanting the true gradations, but the power displayed is so great, the frankness of the handling so certain that, especially in a photograph, the little study has all the appearance of a life-sized picture.

There are again two pictures dated in the following year, 1628. "Samson captured by the Philistines," at Berlin, is a not too successful first attempt at a composition of several figures, but it is of interest to the student as showing the sternly practical bent of Rembrandt's imagination, the intense craving for a strictly probable conception of the scene which, though at times it led him over the border of the simple into the absolutely ludicrous, more often gives that wonderfully impressive vitality and depth of feeling to his pictures. Here, as elsewhere, he aims not at all at heroic attitudes and over-dramatic effect; he makes no attempt to invent the scene as it ought to have looked, but endeavours to realise how it did look. The Philistines, he knew, were afraid of Samson, and he will not bate a jot of their terrors. One of them advances in fear and trembling, carefully keeping Delilah between himself and the object of his dread; while the other hides unequivocally behind the bed-curtains.

Here, also, we find an instance of his habit of painting in accessories because they were picturesque and available, quite regardless of their appropriateness, in the Malay kriss thrust into Samson's belt; and here we find for the first time that blending of the features of the two earlier monograms, the R.H. of the one, with the L. of the other, into the thenceforth frequent combination R.H.L. with the date 1628.

The second picture, bearing the same monogram and date, is in the possession of Herr Karl von der Heydt of Elberfeld, showing a man in full armour, standing by a fire in a courtyard, and closely observed by soldiers and servants, which Dr Bode not unreasonably believes to represent "The Denial of St Peter." Seven other pictures are attributed to about that date, one of which is believed by its possessor, Dr Bredius, to be a "Portrait of Rembrandt's Mother" (see illustration, p. 6). There are also a copy of this, showing a little more of the figure, attributed to Rembrandt, but probably by another hand; two portraits supposed to be "The Painter's Father," one lent by Dr Bredius to the Museum at the Hague [No. 565], the other in the Museum at Nantes; a "Portrait of a Boy," at Hinton St George, and a doubtful one of "A Young Girl," called Rembrandt's sister Lysbeth, at Stockholm [No. 591]. A "Judas with the Price of the Betrayal," in the collection of Baron Arthur de Schickler of Paris, is considered by M. Michel to be the identical picture to which Constantin Huygens referred in that eulogy which has been mentioned in the painter's life. A "Raising of Lazurus," in the collection of Mr Yerkes in New York, completes the list.

There is only one picture bearing the date 1629, a small "Portrait of Himself," at Gotha [No. 181]; but there are eleven others believed to have been painted about that time. Two are in the Mauritshuis at the Hague. A "Bust of Himself" [No. 148] is a strong, resolute piece of work, and a marked advance on all that he had done before. The other picture at the Hague [No. 598] is supposed to be his elder brother Adriaen. There is less doubt about a portrait in the Ryksmuseum at Amsterdam [No. 1248], painted about that time, though bearing a forged signature and the impossible date 1641. It is that of a man with a short peaked beard and grey moustaches martially brushed up, and a long aquiline nose. The same features occur frequently in the earlier pictures and etchings, and M. Michel has made out a very good case for their being those of Harmen Gerritsz, the painter's father.

There are three other "Portraits of Himself," "A Head of a Boy," "A Young Man Laughing," and a "St Peter," all painted about that time; but of more importance are two small subject-pictures. The first, signed R.H., but not dated, "Christ at Emmaus," in the possession of Madame André-Jacquemart of Paris, is the earliest example of that presentment of a group of figures lighted by artificial light, to which Rembrandt was so partial. Here, as in most cases, the source of the light is hidden, as it stands on a table, on the right of the picture, in front of which Christ is seated, in profile to the left, his silhouette sharply cut against the radiance. At his feet one of the disciples kneels. The second, seated in the centre, on the further side of the table, lifts up his hands in amazement. On the left, in the background, the secondary softer illumination, so frequently introduced in similar effects by Rembrandt, is provided by the glow of firelight on two women engaged in cooking. The other is "The Presentation in the Temple," in the collection of Consul Weber at Hamburg. Like the last, it is signed, with the full name Rembrandt however, but is not dated, and the effect is to some extent marred by the harshness of the contrasts of light and shade, his later complete grasp of subtle transitions being still imperfectly developed.

Six out of the seventeen pictures attributed to 1630 or thereabouts are signed and dated, and one, a reproduction of the "Portrait of his Father," in the Hermitage at St Petersburg [No. 814], is signed with the monogram R.H.L., but not dated; while a different portrait of the same, at Rotterdam [No. 237], is signed R. alone. Four of these are portraits: one, at Hamburg, of "Maurice Huygens," the brother of the painter's admirer Constantin; one, in the collection of Count Andrassy at Buda-Pesth, his own; one, at Cassel, of an unknown "Old Man" [No. 209]; and one, in the Ferdinandeum at Innsbruck, though called "Philon the Jew," is probably his father. One of the two subject-pictures, in the Six collection, Amsterdam, is a sketch, broadly but expressively handled, of "Joseph interpreting his Dreams," signed with the full name Rembrandt, 1630. The other, signed R.H.L. 1630, in the collection of Count Stroganoff, is of doubtful import. It represents an old man seated in a cave, resting his head upon his right hand, while his left rests on a large book. Beside him lie a cloth embroidered with gold, various gold vessels, and other objects of value. In the distance is seen a town in flames, from which the inhabitants are hurriedly escaping. What it is intended to represent is an unsolved riddle, and the title of "A Philosopher in Meditation," though convenient to identify it by, has not otherwise much significance. The remaining eleven pictures are studies or portraits, of which the old woman, belonging to the Earl of Pembroke, a bust of "A Young Girl," the property of Dr Bredius, and lent by him to the Hague Museum, and another "Portrait of an Old Woman" resembling somewhat in features the picture at Wilton, but known, for some mysterious reason as, "The Countess of Desmond," may be mentioned.

At what time in 1631 Rembrandt moved to Amsterdam we have no means of judging, nor can we say with any certainty which pictures of that year were painted before, which after, his change of residence. A "Bust of his Father," signed R.H.L. 1631, the property of Mr Fleischmann, was probably among the former. The "Young Man with the Turban," at Windsor, must also, presumably, have been painted before his removal, if M. Michel is justified in his belief that it is a portrait of Gerard Dou. Of the others we know nothing that points either way.

Rembrandt was now beginning to find himself. The dry precision, the timid carefulness have disappeared. His hand moves easily about its appointed task, not indeed, as yet, with the splendid freedom of later years, but with an assured confidence. He knows what he wants to do, and begins to feel that he can do it. The commissions that finally necessitated his establishment in Amsterdam showed him also, we may suppose, that other people appreciated the fact, and we may, perhaps, refer to this growing confidence in himself the great increase in the number of pictures signed that year. There are eleven, bearing both date and signature, two signed, but undated, and two which, though bearing neither date nor signature, are believed to have been painted about that time.

Of the first class, a picture of a man reading, in the Museum at Stockholm [No. 579], known as "St Anastasius," bears yet another version of the painter's name, the d being absent in this case, so that it reads Rembrant. A "Holy Family," at Munich [No. 234], signed Rembrandt, is an example of a propensity, which he never thoroughly shook off, to over-compose his pictures.

The same over-marked arrangement, though, to a far less degree, is also observable in the pyramidal group in the otherwise splendid "Presentation in the Temple," at the Hague [No. 145]. This is signed with the initials R.H. alone, interlaced, but seven others bear the three, R.H.L., including the portrait of Gerard Dou, already mentioned; a portrait, said to be his mother, at Oldenburg [No. 166], wearing a semi-oriental dress, and reading, from which circumstance the picture has obtained the name of "The Prophetess Anna"; and the "Portrait of a Merchant," long called "Coppenol," in the Hermitage at St Petersburg [No. 808].

Of the two undated pictures, "Zachariah receiving the Prophecy of the Birth of John the Baptist," in the collection of M. Albert Lehmann, Paris, bears the full name Rembrandt. The mysterious figure at Berlin [No. 828C.], a young woman in a rich dress, seated by a table, on which lie pieces of armour, a book, and a lute, while other arms, including a shield, decorated with a gorgon's head, hang on the wall above her, gaming for her the fanciful titles "Judith" or "Minerva," has only vague traces of the initial R. Of the last class, one is a copy, formerly in the Beresford-Hope collection, of the "Portrait of his Father," in the Ryksmuseum, the other is a small figure of "Diana Bathing," in the collection of M. Warneck, Paris.

Once satisfactorily established in Amsterdam, Rembrandt increased his annual production marvellously. The number of pictures known or believed to belong to each of the four preceding years, are, in succession, four, nine, twelve, and twenty, the numbers for the four succeeding years are, respectively, forty-two, thirty, twenty-six, and twenty-seven; or, taking the average of each period, we find that the first would give a little more than eleven pictures per annum, the second, very nearly thirty. 1632, in especial, when he was new to Amsterdam, was a year of extraordinary energy.

We find also, at the same time, a vast increase in the number of signed pictures, yet still note a surprising variety in the form the signature takes. No less than thirty are signed, and all but two of these are also dated. Nine of them bear the monogram, R.H.L., and ten others have the same, with, for the first time, the addition van Rijn, while one has the plain initial R. with van Rijn added. One, forming a sort of transition with the other group, is signed Rembrandt H.L. van Rijn, and nine are signed with the full name, in three of which the d is missing. Thirty-four of the pictures are portraits, and six of them form pairs representing husband and wife—namely, "Burgomaster Jan Pellicorne, with his son Caspar," and "Suzanna van Collen, his Wife, and her Daughter," in the Wallace collection; an unknown Man and his Wife, in the Imperial Museum, Vienna, though these four are only believed to belong to that year; the portraits of "Christian Paul van Beersteyn," and "Volkera Nicolai Knobbert," his wife, in the possession of Mr Havemeyer of New York, alone bearing the date. There is also a portrait at Brunswick [No. 232], fantastically called "Grotius," the companion of which was painted next year; another, believed, with good reason, to represent "Dr Tulp," formerly in the collection of the Princess de Sagan, which is also one of a pair, though the picture of the wife was not painted until two years later; and a third, in the collection of M. Pereire, Paris, of a man, whose wife was also not painted till the following year. Twelve others represent actually or conjecturally known individuals, but two of these, if, as is probable, they represent the painter's father, must have been painted earlier, as would also be the case with four others more doubtfully described, two as his mother, two as his sister. One at Cassel [No. 212] almost certainly represents "Coppenol, the Caligraphist," and an admirable picture in Captain Holford's collection, is undoubtedly "Martin Looten," a merchant of Amsterdam; while, even in that busy year, he found time once to paint his own portrait. The other four include the two of "Saskia," already mentioned in the Life, and two men, one said to be "Matthys Kalkoen," and one, a certain "Joris de Caulery."

So engaged was he on portraiture, that he only found time for three small figure subjects, if, indeed, they were painted that year, for none is dated. One, in the Wallace collection, is "The Good Samaritan"; the second at Berlin [No. 823], represents "Pluto in his Chariot carrying off Proserpine," quite the most successful of Rembrandt's rare appeals to classical mythology for inspiration; while the third at Frankfort [No. 183], is a somewhat indifferent rendering of "David playing the Harp before Saul."

I have left to the last, the great work of that year, the famous "Anatomy Lesson," at the Hague. In producing this, the largest and most ambitious work he had yet attempted, one, moreover, the success or failure of which could scarcely help having a marked influence on his future career, Rembrandt, we cannot but perceive, was not altogether at his ease. There are obvious signs that the hand that could already move with such courage and freedom, when the mere satisfying of himself was in question, was hampered by a return, partial at least, to his earlier timidity, when so much was at stake. He was so anxious to do his best that the spontaneity, conspicuous in most of his work, escaped in the process. The result is a little stiff in consequence, and the work somewhat dry and frigid; but the life and expression in the various heads is, nevertheless, so excellent, that it is impossible to regard it without delight and admiration.

Portraits again took up much of his time in 1633, among them the two companions to the portraits of the year before, and another pair, "Willem Burchgraeff," at Dresden [No. 1557], and "Margaretha van Bilderbeecq," his wife, in Frankfort [No. 182]. The painter's masterpiece, however, in matrimonial groups, is the "Shipbuilder and his Wife," at Buckingham Palace.

There are thirteen other signed portraits of that year, including one of "Jan Herman Krul," at Cassel [No. 213], two of "Saskia"—one at Dresden [No. 1556]; one, called however, "Lysbeth van Rijn," which belonged to the late Baroness Hirsch-Gereuth—and two of himself, one, the oval portrait in the Louvre [No. 412], and the other in the collection of M. Warneck at Paris. Out of these twelve signatures, only one is the monogram R.H.L., the other eleven being signed with the full name, and from only one of these, "A Head of a Girl," in the collection of Prince Jousoupoff, is the d missing.

Three subject-pictures also belong to that year, in all probability; "An Entombment," in the Hunterian Museum, Glasgow; a small picture described as "Petitioners to a Biblical Prince," belonging to M. Léon Bonnat of Paris; and "A Philosopher in Meditation" [No. 2541], in the Louvre. The last, indeed, though undated, may almost certainly be attributed to that year, since its companion, another "Philosopher in Meditation," also in the Louvre [No. 2540], is signed R. van Rijn, 1631. But the great event of the year must have been the patronage which came to him from Prince Frederick-Henry, resulting in the purchase of two pictures, both of which, in later years, after passing to the gallery at Düsseldorf, were transferred to Munich.

In both we see Rembrandt at his most characteristic—his determination to tell his story clearly, to concentrate his light upon the chief figure, the keynote of his theme, to get the true and expressive actions of his personages, not even yet free of some exaggeration, without troubling a jot as to the minor detail of correct costume. So, in the first, "The Elevation of the Cross" [No. 327], the cross, with the tense figure wrung with anguish, slants right athwart the picture, and stands out against the murky sky and dim surrounding crowds with startling incisiveness. So the four men occupied in raising it display an almost passionate energy; so a soldier wears a more or less classical helmet and breastplate over a sleeved doublet unknown to Rome; a man behind is dressed in the peasant's ordinary garb of Rembrandt's day; and another, wearing a doublet and soft flat cap, seems to be Rembrandt's self; while the centurion on horseback superintending the carrying out of the sentence is a frank Turk as to his headgear, a nondescript for the rest of him. The other, "The Descent from the Cross" [No. 326], while displaying many of the same qualities, merits and defects alike, is more deliberately composed, suffers indeed from that over-composition already noticed, being too obviously built up into that high pyramidal form, which we found in "The Presentation in the Temple." There is, nevertheless, a very delicate sentiment of pathos in it, and that Rembrandt himself was content with it, is shown not only by his correspondence with Huygens on the subject, but by the fact that he repeated it on a larger scale during the following year. Yet so curiously capricious was he in adding or withholding date and signature that neither has a date, and only "The Descent from the Cross" is inscribed with what appears to be C. Rlembrant f.

CHAPTER VI

At the one hundred and twenty-nine pictures produced during the succeeding nine years I can only glance hastily. There are eighteen works dated 1634, and, no less than seven of them are, or are called, "Portraits of Himself." One at the Louvre [No. 2553], and two at Berlin [Nos. 808 and 810], are unmistakably so, and one now in America, a companion to a "Portrait of Saskia," would seem to be; but the "Portrait of Rembrandt as an Officer," at the Hague [No. 149], which, however, bears no date, and one in a helmet, at Cassel [No. 215], bear only the most general resemblance to him. He furthermore painted a portrait of "Saskia disguised as Flora," called "The Jewish Bride," in the Hermitage at St Petersburg [No. 812], a very similar picture in the collection of M. Schloss, Paris, and a third at Cassel [No. 214]. There are eight dated portraits, and one probably belonging to that year. Among the portraits are the pair to the one of "Dr Tulp," and two other pairs, "Martin Daey" and "Machteld van Doorn," his wife, belonging to Baron Gustave de Rothschild, and "The Minister Alenson" and "His Wife," belonging to M. Schneider, Paris, a "Portrait of Himself in a Cuirass," in the Wallace collection, one of "A Young Girl," at Bridgewater House, and the "Old Lady," in the National Gallery [No. 775]. There are also four subjects. A replica of "The Descent from the Cross," formerly in the Cassel Gallery, but removed by Napoleon I. to Malmaison, whence it passed to the Hermitage [No. 800]. It is of interest historically as showing that high as Rembrandt's reputation stood at the time, he had leisure enough to paint this large picture, without any immediate purchaser in prospect, and it remained in fact on his hands until the enforced sale in 1656. A second, also in the Hermitage [No. 801], is "The Incredulity of St Thomas," and a third, in the Prado at Madrid [No. 1544], has been called both "Queen Artemisia receiving the Ashes of Mausolus" and "Cleopatra at her Toilet." There is also a doubtful "Tobias restoring his Father's Sight," in the collection of Duc d'Arenberg at Brussels, but it is a matter of doubt whether the last figure of the date is 4 or 6. Lastly, there is an undated "Prodigal Son," belonging to the executors of the late Sir F. Cook, which, in spite of the signature, must also be regarded as dubious.

There are only two "Portraits of Himself" dated 1635, and one of "Saskia," but there are two others attributed to about that time, and, in addition, two large and highly finished pictures, supposed to represent "Rembrandt and Saskia," both signed Rembrandt, and believed to have been painted in or near that year. The one at Dresden [No. 1559], contains, without doubt, portraits of the painter and his wife (see illustration, p. 24). The other, at Buckingham Palace, long known as "The Burgomaster Pancras and his Wife," is less certain.

Apart from these, there are nine dated portraits, and five subject-pictures, together with six portraits and one subject of about the date. Only two of the portraits bearing dates are in public galleries, one "A Rabbi," at Hampton Court [No. 381], and one "A Man," in the National Gallery [No. 350], while two others of about the date are the "Portrait of Himself," in the Pitti [No. 60], and "A Young Woman," at Cassel [No. 216]. In subjects the artist on two occasions went out of his way to court failure in attempting to represent classical subjects, with the spirit of which he was utterly out of sympathy. The homely truthfulness of his art, though it may occasionally result in details somewhat shocking to the reverent mind, was, nevertheless, well adapted to set forth the humanising side of Scripture incidents. His Christ is always more the Son of Man than the God Incarnate. His Virgin Mary has none of the delicate beauty conceived for her by Italian painters, but she is first of all, and beyond all, the type of motherhood. His apostles have none of the heroic dignity of Michael Angelo's, yet they are without question devout, devoted fishers of men. But this lack of wish or power to idealise, this persistence in the search for the true and neglect of the beautiful, is entirely at variance with the classical tradition. There are no great fundamental ideas beneath the story of "Actæon, Diana, and Callisto," or "The Rape of Ganymede," for the artist to bring home to us, and the representation of the former as coarse, ungainly peasants, as in the picture belonging to Prince Salm-Salm of Anholt, or of the latter as a fat and extremely hideous baby boy blubbering in terror as he is howked upwards—no more dignified phrase will express it—by his shirt-tail in the claws of an eagle, as in the picture at Dresden [No. 1558], serve only to reveal the limitations of the artist's imagination without disguise or compensation.

Three other subject pictures, painted in or about that year, are also in public galleries: a little sketch of "The Flight into Egypt," at the Hague [No. 579]; "The Sacrifice of Abraham," in the Hermitage [No. 792]; and "Samson threatening his Father-in-law," at Berlin [No. 802].

Seven pictures only bear the date 1636, of which one formed a further addition to the collection of Prince Frederick-Henry,—"The Ascension," now at Munich [No. 328], quite the least satisfactory of the series. Rembrandt, indeed, was not in a happy vein this year in his treatment of subjects. Both the "Samson overpowered by the Philistines," in the collection of Count Schönborn at Vienna, and Lord Derby's "Belshazzar's Feast," if it be Rembrandt's, which, though unsigned, is attributed to that year, are seriously marred by a distinct melodramatic element in the conception, an extreme exaggeration of pose, gesture, and expression. On the other hand, we find the most pleasing study of the nude the painter ever made, in the "Danae," at the Hermitage [No. 802], which, though the first and third figures of the date have disappeared, leaving only two sixes, was most probably painted that year.

The four remaining pictures are portraits; two, forming a pair, a young man and his wife, belonging to Prince Liechtenstein of Vienna; one, a woman, to Mr Byers, Pittsburg, U.S.A.; and also a woman, to Lord Kinnaird. The "Ecce Homo," in the National Gallery [No. 1400], must have also been painted that year, if not before, for it is a sketch for the etching of that date. Other pictures probably dating from that year are a "Standard Bearer," belonging to Baron Gustave de Rothschild, from which the last figure of the date is missing; a "Portrait of an Old Lady," belonging to the Earl of Yarborough; "A Saint," formerly in the collection of Earl Dudley; "Saint Paul," at Vienna; and the "Portrait of an Oriental," in the Hermitage [No. 813].

1637 is inscribed on eight pictures, but in one case, that of a "Portrait of Himself," belonging to Captain Heywood-Lonsdale, there is some doubt about the correct reading of the last figure, and in that of "Susannah and the Elders," in the collection of Prince Jousoupoff, the genuineness of the signature is not above suspicion. No such question, however, applies to the rendering of the same subject at the Hague [No. 147], the "Portrait of Himself," in the Louvre [No. 2554], the "Portrait of Henry Swalm," at Antwerp [No. 705], that of another "Minister" at Bridgewater House, or to the "Portrait of a Man," in the Hermitage [No. 811], once absurdly called "Sobieski," and now, with scarcely less absurdity, said to be Rembrandt. The remaining work is "The Parable of the Master of the Vineyard," also in the Hermitage [No. 798]. Two portraits, one of himself, belonging to Lord Ashburton, and one of a "Young Woman" lacing her bodice, belonging to Dr Bredius, are also attributed to that year, as is "The Angel quitting Tobit," in the Louvre [No. 2536], in which once more Rembrandt's desire for actuality has, as far as the angel is concerned, led him to the border-line between the ungraceful and the ridiculous.

In the following year we find him for the first time attempting pure landscape. One, signed and dated, an entirely imaginary composition, is in the possession of Herr Georg Rath at Buda-Pesth; another, also signed and dated, in which he has to some extent compromised by introducing some small figures illustrating the "Parable of the Good Samaritan," is in the Czartoryski Museum at Cracow. "Christ and Mary Magdalene at the Tomb," in Buckingham Palace, though the figures are made of more importance, may also be included in the transition pictures between landscape and subject, for the garden, tomb, and distant city are at least as much insisted on as the figures. The important picture of the year, however, was a figure subject, "Samson propounding his Riddle to the Philistines," the great canvas in the Dresden Gallery [No. 1560], a magnificent piece of work, but, apart from its technical qualities, of no great interest: the only other pictures dated 1638 being a "Portrait of an Old Man," in the Louvre [No. 2544], and a "Bust of a Man in Armour," at Brunswick [No. 237].

Two more pictures were completed for the Stathouder in 1639, a "Resurrection" [No. 329], signed and dated, and an "Entombment" [No. 330], unsigned, now with the others at Munich. The only other subject treated that year, if the date and signature are genuine, which M. Michel doubts, was "The Good Samaritan" dressing the wounds of the injured man, in the collection of M. Jules Porgès, for "The Slaughter-house," belonging to Herr Georg Rath, is a study rather than a picture; and the "Man with the Bittern" at Dresden [No. 1561] as much a portrait as a study. Other portraits are the so-called "Lady of Utrecht," lent by the family Van Weede van Dykveld to the Amsterdam Museum; that of "Alotte Adriaans," belonging to the executors of the late Sir F. Cook, a life-sized full-length figure of "A Man," at Cassel [No. 217], at one time erroneously called "Burgomaster Six," and a so-called "Portrait of Rembrandt's Mother," at Vienna [No. 1141].

There are six pictures dated 1640—four subjects and two portraits—one of himself in the National Gallery [No. 672], (see ill., p. 28), and the famous one of "Paul Doomer," better known as "The Gilder," now in the possession of Mr Havemeyer of New York. The subjects include the Duke of Westminster's beautiful "Salutation" and the "Expulsion of Hagar and Ishmael," in the Victoria and Albert Museum, in both of which, however, the concentration of light on a small portion is so intense as to suggest the lime-light of a theatre; the charming version of "The Holy Family" in the Louvre [No. 2542], known as "The House of the Carpenter," where the contrasting light and shade, though equally marked, are reasonably brought about; and the mysterious allegory, in the Boymans Museum at Rotterdam [No. 238], known as "The Concord of the Country," containing a rather confused mass of detail and incident, all obviously meaning something, but what no one can quite decide.

Other pictures supposed to have been painted about the same time are a "Good Samaritan"; a "Saving of Moses," in which the figures play a part quite subordinate to the landscape; three pure landscapes, "An Effect of Storm," at Brunswick [No. 236], one in the Wallace collection; a study of "Dead Peacocks," belonging to Mr W. C. Cartwright; and several portraits, the most noteworthy of which is the one of "Elizabeth Bas" in the Ryksmuseum at Amsterdam [No. 249].

Six pictures again bear the date 1641, and all are portraits except the great "Offering of Manoah and his Wife," at Dresden [No. 1563], wherein we are distressed once more by the artist's unfortunate conception of an angelic being. Two of the portraits form a pair now widely sundered, the admirable "Lady with the Fan" being at Buckingham Palace, while her husband has strayed away to Brussels [No. 397]. The portrait of "The Minister Anslo"—a marvel of life-like expression and superb painting—is a sad example of art treasures which have been allowed to leave England of late years, having passed from Lady Ashburnham to Berlin. The "Portrait of Anna Vymer," on the other hand, the mother of Burgomaster Six, is one of a very few, if it be not the only one, which is still in the possession of the descendants of the subject. The remaining picture is a portrait of a Young Woman, called "Saskia," at Dresden [No. 1562].

The dated pictures of 1642 are few. There is one subject in the Hermitage [No. 1777] long known as "The Reconciliation of Jacob and Esau," but now recorded in the catalogue as "The Reconciliation of David and Absalom"; while the "Christ taken from the Cross," in the National Gallery [No. 43], may belong to the same year, since it is a sketch probably made for the etching which was certainly executed then. There are also four portraits: one of "A Rabbi," belonging to M. Jules Porgès of Paris; Lord Iveagh's "Portrait of a Woman"; Mrs Alfred Morrison's "Portrait of Dr Bonus"; and "An Old Man," at Buda-Pesth [No. 235].

This limited production was probably due to the fact that a large share of his time must have been taken up by his largest and most famous work, "The Sortie of the Company of Francis Banning Cocq," for many years known as "The Night-watch," because time and careless usage had so blackened it that the original illumination was nearly obscured, and the figures appeared to be dimly visible by artificial light. The careful restoration by M. Hopman has, of late years, altered all this, and that the sortie is taking place by daylight, the condensed, highly localised daylight of Rembrandt, to be sure, has been established beyond cavil.

One would have supposed that such devoted art-patrons as the Dutch people of that time, would have hailed with delight the creation of such a masterpiece by one of themselves, and would have showered praises and commissions upon its creator. The very contrary seems to have been the fact; nor is the reason far to seek.

Holland at that time abounded in Guilds and Companies, civil and military, Boards of Management of this or that Hospital or charitable Institution, and a perfect craze for being painted in groups animated one and all. The galleries are full of these "Doelen" and "Regent" pictures by great and little masters, and dreary objects many of them are. Each member subscribed his share, and each expected to get his money's-worth; so the painter was expected to distribute his light and his positions with an impartial hand, and a comically stiff and formal collection of effigies was often the result.

To all such considerations Rembrandt was gloriously indifferent. He was painting a picture of an event in real life, and he meant it to be a picture and alive, not a mere row of wax figures in a booth; and when he had finished, the subscribers cried aloud in wrath and consternation.

And indeed it is difficult not to sympathise with the poor amateur soldiers who had paid to be painted, not to be immortalised. Even if they could have known, they would have cared very little for the fact that their picture was to rank in after years among the most famous in the world, since their worthy citizen-faces were not to be discerned in it, and no one would care to read the names which, failing to move the domineering painter, they caused to be inscribed upon an escutcheon in the background so that they might get some return for their florins. They had their revenge, however, after a kind, for they left it to blacken with dirt and smoke; and when their descendants removed it from the Doelen to the Hotel de Ville they cut it down ruthlessly on either hand to make it fit a smaller space, as a copy by Lundens in the National Gallery [No. 289] makes evident.