The Mentor Rembrandt 3

The Mentor Rembrandt 3

Saskia at this time was a slender girl, rather small of stature. Her

features were very regular, and her eyes were of a beautiful brown

shade, matching her soft reddish brown hair. Her brilliant complexion

was the envy of her less favored companions.

 

The young painter soon showed that he took a special interest in

Saskia. He bestowed great care on her portraits, and was in her company

as much as possible. He himself was young, attractive, and good

looking; and we may be sure that Saskia’s family did not frown upon his

suit. They probably realized that Rembrandt would make an excellent

husband for their ward.

 

Rembrandt’s father had died some time before this, and his mother

gladly gave her consent to the marriage. Saskia and Rembrandt were made

man and wife on June 22, 1634.

 

Their life together was very happy. Rembrandt’s tastes were domestic,

and he was never more pleased than when planning his wife’s happiness.

He centered his whole thought and energy upon her. Saskia, simple and

loving, was governed in all things by his wishes: she was entirely

devoted to him.

 

Rembrandt liked to use Saskia as his model. Some of the better known

pictures for which she posed are her own portrait in the Cassel

Gallery, the “Jewish Bride,” painted in 1634, which is now in the

Hermitage in Petrograd, “Sophonisba Receiving the Cup of Poison from

Massinissa,” in the Prado at Madrid, which is also dated 1634, and the

famous painting of Saskia and himself, now in the Dresden Gallery and

done about 1635, which represents Rembrandt in military costume, seated

at a table, with a long glass of sparkling wine in his hand and Saskia

perched on his knee.

 

At this period in his life everything seemed to smile on Rembrandt.

He was extravagant and did not know the meaning of the word “save.”

Saskia’s health had not as yet given cause for anxiety. But sad days

were to come. Three children were lost in rapid succession. In 1641 the

only child of theirs who survived was born. He was named Titus, after

Saskia’s sister Titia. But the young wife did not live long after her

son was born. Her health broke down, and an etching made by Rembrandt

about 1640 shows her with sharpened features, feverish eyes, and an

__EXPRESSION__ of pensive melancholy. The happy days were over. Their brief

union, begun in joy, was soon to end in tears. As if in prophecy,

Rembrandt’s anxieties were deepened by another sorrow--the death of his

mother in 1640.

 

Saskia’s illness made rapid progress. Day after day she faded, and no

longer did the artist have any delusions as to her recovery. Saskia

made her will on June 5, 1642. She herself, however, had not lost all

hope, for in this will she spoke of the children she might eventually

have. She made Rembrandt trustee of her property for their son Titus,

showing her perfect trust in her husband. At the end of the document

she signed her name for the last time in tremulous, almost illegible

characters, as if exhausted by the effort.

 

It was only a few days later that Saskia passed away, on June 19, 1642.

Rembrandt followed her coffin to the Oude Kerk and then returned to his

lonely house, where everything reminded him of his brief happiness and

where he was now alone with a child nine months old. He never seemed

to recover from the blow. He went on working, and during the years to

come painted some of his greatest pictures; but seemingly he had lost

his grip on life, and from that time on it was only a matter of a few

years until he was overwhelmed by financial troubles and was driven to

a humble lodging and his death.

 

PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION

ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 4, No. 20, SERIAL No. 120

COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.

 

 

 

 

[Illustration: IN THE CASSEL GALLERY

 

COPPENOL--PORTRAIT BY REMBRANDT]

 

 

 

 

_REMBRANDT_

 

_His Etchings_

 

SIX

 

 

Many people in considering Rembrandt think of him only as a master

painter; they overlook the fact that he was also the leading etcher of

his time. This monograph will take up briefly this part of the great

artist’s work.

 

It is related of Hokusai, the Japanese artist, that he once said

that he hoped to live to be very old, and that he might have time to

learn to draw in such a way that every stroke of his pencil would be

the __EXPRESSION__ of some living thing. That is exactly what Rembrandt

managed to do in almost every one of his etchings. This is particularly

true of the wonderful little etching of his mother. One critic says

that on looking at this etching he was compelled to close his eyes

for a moment, because of the tears that rose unbidden at sight of

it. It would be hard to find anything more worthy of praise than

this engraving. Every line expresses motherly kindness, sweetness,

and thoughtfulness. Nothing could have been omitted; the etching is

complete.

 

So skilful was Rembrandt as an etcher that the nobleness of his ideas

and the depth of his nature are apt to be overlooked. His engravings

are pervaded by his big, artistic personality and by his own ennobling

influence. The artist’s soul spoke not only through the choice of

subject, but found __EXPRESSION__ in every single detail. He showed a

singular inventive power, originality of conception, and a great depth

of understanding.

 

Among Rembrandt’s etchings were many wonderfully life-like portraits,

biblical subjects, and landscapes. An interesting thing about all this

work is that most of it was done between the years 1639 and 1661. After

this Rembrandt seems to have renounced etching entirely. In these

twenty years he produced his greatest works, on every one of which

appears the impress of the genius of the man.

 

Rembrandt seems to have had a particular interest in making etchings

of beggars. He delighted to draw them. These types were easy to find

in Amsterdam at that time; but they may be called super-beggars, for

as a critic says, “One is almost inclined to say that they cannot be

beggars, because the master’s hand has endowed them with the warmth

and splendor with which his artistic temperament clothed everything he

looked at.”

 

Some of Rembrandt’s etchings have brought great prices. In most cases,

however, these prices varied because of the “state” of the plates. The

points of difference between these “states” arise from the additions

and changes made by Rembrandt on the plates. A single impression of

one of his etchings, “Rembrandt with a Sword,” was bought for about

$10,000 in 1893. Another, “Ephraim Bonus with Black Ring,” brought

about $9,750; while a third, the “Hundred Guilder Print,” fetched about

$8,750.

 

Some may find in Rembrandt’s etching much that at first appears rough

and uncouth. More apparent skill and ease in drawing may appear to have

been shown by other etchers. But Rembrandt’s work may justly be termed

big, for it was conceived on a grand scale by a genius and master.

 

PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION

ILLUSTRATION FOR THE MENTOR, VOL. 4, No. 20, SERIAL No. 120

COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.

 

 

 

 

THE MENTOR · DEPARTMENT OF FINE ARTS · DECEMBER 1, 1916

 

REMBRANDT

 

By JOHN C. VAN DYKE

 

_Professor of the History of Art, Rutgers College_

 

_MENTOR GRAVURES_

 

SOBIESKI

 

DETAIL OF THE ANATOMY LESSON

 

THE MILL

 

_MENTOR GRAVURES_

 

ELIZABETH BAS

 

PORTRAIT OF SASKIA HOLDING A FLOWER

 

COPPENOL

 

[Illustration: Portrait of the Artist

 

By Himself

 

In the Collection of Mr. Henry C. Frick, New York City]

 

Entered as second-class matter March 10, 1913, at the

postoffice at New York, N. Y., under the act of March 3, 1879.

Copyright, 1916, by The Mentor Association, Inc.

 

 

The visitor to the Netherland art galleries should leave his notions of

Greek and Italian art with his umbrella, at the entrance. Holland is no

place to talk about canons of proportion or types of beauty or ideals

of any kind. The Dutch are now, as they have always been, a people

confronted by the realities of existence, and see life, literature, and

art as facts rather than as fancies. There has never been much romance

about them, but, on the contrary, a realization of the existent, a

grasp of the truth and vitality of things, a keen penetration into the

human problem. There never was any need for far-fetched fancies or

ideals. The life about them interested and impressed them, and, from

the very beginning, the Dutch painters were painting the portrait of

their own land and people. The result was an art that has a distinct

quality of its own--just as distinct a quality as the art of Persia or

Japan. You would not think of judging Japanese art by that of Italy.

Why then think of Dutch art in any other terms than its own?