CHAPTER V. EARLY YEARS (1627-1633)

Of the blank spaces in the record of Rembrandt’s career, none is so long or so inexplicable as that which begins with his return from Amsterdam to Leyden in 1624. Here the track breaks off abruptly, and we can be sure of nothing until we come to the first known pictures signed by him, and dated 1627.

We will take first the picture discovered by Sir J. C. Robinson about twenty years ago, and presented by him to the Berlin Gallery. It represents a wrinkled old man, seated at a table. Papers and account books lie around him, and are heaped up in the background, and on his left, resting on a thick volume, stands a fat purse. A pair of scales are in front of him, and beside them a dozen or so of coins. Lifting a candle in his left hand, he throws the light of it upon a piece of money. The work, though promising, is in no way startling, and he would have been an acute critic who could have foretold from it the lofty height to which the painter of it was to soar. It is signed, with one of the ever-varying forms of his signature, R.H., combined in a monogram, followed by the date 1627.

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, ). 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.