Rembrandt Catalogues--The extent of Rembrandt’s etched work--The
careful buyer: how may he represent Rembrandt not
unworthily?--Amongst landscape etchings, the indisputable
pre-eminence of Rembrandt’s landscapes--Their influence on the most
modern Art--The landscapes’ rarity--The most desirable and
attainable--Prices--The landscapes in the Holford Sale--Rembrandt’s
portraits--Portraits of himself--The best portraits of others--Recent
prices of the portraits--Those fine ones that are cheap
essentially--Sacred subjects just touched on--The Nude--The methods
of Rembrandt--Etching and dry-point--Simplicity of the means
Rembrandt employed.
That great old connoisseur of Rouen, Eugène Dutuit, in his two portly
tomes, the _Œuvre Complet de Rembrandt_ (produced in 1883), catalogues
for the convenience of the collector three hundred and sixty-three
pieces, though, from his long and careful Introduction, it is evident
that he is not altogether uninfluenced by modern views, and is willing
to discard some few out of that great array of prints. Wilson, the
first important English cataloguer, working in 1836, had catalogued
three hundred and sixty-nine. Charles Blanc, about a score of years
later, had reduced the number to three hundred and fifty-three. Again,
in 1879, the Rev. C. H. Middleton-Wake had brought the number down to
three hundred and twenty-nine. It is hardly likely that before the
present chapter is completed--a chapter that must be devoted mainly to
the more fascinating works of the greatest mind that ever expressed
itself in Etching--I shall have said anything of value on what is,
for the student, an important question--the question of how much of
Rembrandt’s long-accepted work the master really executed. For not in
a part only of a single chapter of a volume on Fine Prints could it
be possible to deal satisfactorily with the arguments for and against
certain etchings, the authenticity of which modern Criticism disputes
or doubts about. The matter would require not paragraphs, but a volume.
Furthermore, for anything approaching a final settlement, it would
need such opportunities for comparison as absolutely no one has yet
been able to possess. Sir Seymour Haden, whose views upon the subject
are more defined than most people’s--if likewise it happens that they
are more revolutionary--has been pleading for a large exhibition and
a committee of experts to settle the matter, and, at this time of
writing, the exhibition has not been held nor the committee formed. In
regard to its decision, I anticipate as likely to be delivered somewhat
earlier, and perhaps with more of unanimity, the utterance of Rome
upon that question of “Anglican Orders,” which now either vexes or
sympathetically engages her.
But if the moment of connoisseurs’ agreement upon the question of
the precise number of Rembrandt’s true etchings seems yet remote,
the beginner in the study of the prints of Rembrandt’s may note with
benefit two things: first, that there does exist the reasonable and
long-sustained doubt in regard principally to the “Beggar” and a few
of the Sacred Subjects (for certain landscapes were discarded long
ago), and that thus a question has arisen into which the student
may inquire cautiously, and, after much preliminary study, exercise
his own mind upon; and, second (and here comes in immediate comfort
for the collector), that the doubts thrown on two or three score of
prints still leave untouched the plates in which intelligent Criticism
has recognised masterpieces. Again, and for his further joy, if the
collector be but a beginner, or with a purse not deep, he may note
that the masterpieces of Rembrandt are of the most various degrees of
rarity; that accordingly they differ inexpressibly as to the money
value that attaches to them; and that therefore, even nowadays, though
the complete or comprehensive collector of Rembrandt will have to be
a rich man, a poor man may yet buy, two or three times in every year,
some Rembrandt etching, noble in conception, exquisite in workmanship.
A volume like the present is not concerned primarily with the
acquisitions of the millionaire, though it has, of course, to take
account of them. Let us therefore, just at this stage, ask ourselves
what the careful, modestly-equipped buyer does well to do, so that
in his portfolios so great a master as Rembrandt shall not be
altogether unrepresented, and shall not be represented unworthily?
Ought the beginner to confine himself at first to making a selection
from one or two groups only, out of the number of groups into which,
unless chronological order is to over-ride everything, the prints
of Rembrandt not unnaturally divide themselves? Or ought he to be
guided in his choice by some ascertained facts of Rembrandt’s history,
and by the help of dated plates--or by accepting as fixed and final
the conjectures as to date which have proceeded from the newer
connoisseurship--seek some representation of the art of Rembrandt at
different times of his career? Or ought he, instead of either confining
himself to one or two groups or classes of subject, or seeking to trace
at all, by the few prints of which he may possess himself, the course
of Rembrandt’s progress, the changes in his method, see rather that in
his portfolios all classes of subject shall have something to represent
them, so that at least in this manner the range of the master--which is
one of the most marked of his characteristics--shall be suggested?
The chronological plan, though it has reason on its side and great
advantages, and naturally commends itself to the advanced student
who is far already on the road to be himself an expert, is scarcely
good for the beginner; and this not only because the proper basis of
knowledge--the date that is not a shrewd guess, but a quite certain
fact--is often wanting; but also because the master’s methods in
etching, as in painting, were so many, and in a measure at least (even
the most varied of them) were contemporaneously exercised, that the
attempt to represent periods and manners in a collection numerically
insignificant becomes Quixotic or Academic. Perhaps, then, the wisest
thing is to take one or two great typical groups. For my own part, I
should take Portraiture and Landscape; not of course cramping oneself
with such ridiculous limitations as “Portraits of Men,” “Portraits of
Women”--as if the two, save for convenience of reference, should not
invariably be considered together.
I have said, for one of my two groups, Landscape. I justify it by the
indisputable pre-eminence which Rembrandt’s etched landscapes enjoy.
Even in the dignified and tasteful work of Claude there are only two
or three pieces which hold their own in fascination when the memory is
charged with the achievements of the Dutchman--a magical effect won out
of material intractable, or at the best simple; for that, at most, was
Rembrandt’s scenery. The landscape etchings of Rembrandt’s compatriots,
when they come to be measured by his own, assert only topographical
accuracy, or faithful persevering study, or, it may be, a little manual
dexterity, or their possession of a sense of prettiness which they
share even with the work of the amateur. Most of the finest landscape
etching of later days not only bears some signs of Rembrandt’s
influence, but would have been essentially other than it now is if
Rembrandt’s had not existed. The Dutchman’s mark is laid, strong and
indelible, even upon individualities so potent and distinguished as
Seymour Haden and Andrew Geddes. Whistler, exquisite and peculiar as
his genius is, with the figure, and with Thames-side London subjects
and subjects of Venice, would, had he treated landscape proper, have
either reminded us of Rembrandt, or have etched in some wrong way. He
would not have etched in some wrong way--we may take that for granted;
he would have reminded us of Rembrandt, with a little of himself
besides.
I have shown, I think, how clearly, from the artistic point of view,
the new collector is led to love and seek for Rembrandt landscapes.
But there is one objection, though it is perhaps not a fatal one, to
concentrating his attention upon them. Little of Rembrandt’s work,
except a few oddities of crazy value, like the First State of the
_Hundred Guilder_, is rarer or more costly than his landscapes. Or,
to be more explicit, more absolutely and literally correct, it is
rather in this way: that, while for a good example of Rembrandt in
any other department of his labours, it is possible of course to be
obliged to give much, but likewise (Heaven be praised!) quite possible
not to be obliged to give much, you will _never_ without an outlay
of a certain importance be possessed of any one of his landscapes
in desirable condition. An outlay of £30 may conceivably endow you
with a good impression of one of the most desirable of the minor
landscapes. That sum may get you, and without your having to wait a
quite indefinite time for the acquisition, a _View of Amsterdam_ or a
_Cottage with White Palings_. It may even get you a rarer, finer thing,
the _Landscape with the Obelisk_, or that much slighter landscape
piece--that summary, though of course in its own way very learned,
little performance known as _Six’s Bridge_; the plate which tradition
says (probably not untruly) was etched by Rembrandt while the servant
of his friend, Jan Six, who had forgotten the mustard, went (somewhere
beyond the pantry, however; I should even think that it was outside the
house) in rapid search of that condiment.
[Illustration:
REMBRANDT: _Landscape, with the Obelisk_.
]
But there, as far as Landscape is concerned, if £30 or thereabouts is
to be the limit of your disbursement upon a single piece, there your
collecting stops. If you want a _Cottage with Dutch Hay-Barn_--very
fine indeed, but not of extreme rarity--sixty, eighty, or a hundred
pounds, or more, must be the ransom of it. You want a _Landscape with
a Ruined Tower_--the print which, for well-considered breadth and
maintained unity of effect (not so much for dainty finish) is the “last
word” of landscape art, the perfect splendid phrase which nothing can
appropriately follow, after which there is of necessity declension,
if not collapse--it will be a mere accident if fifty guineas gets it
for you. It may cost you a couple of hundred. And when? Why, only
when a fine collection comes into the market: such a collection as Mr
Holford’s, three or four years ago, or one at least not at all points
inferior to it. And that happens not many times in the life of any
one of us. Again, there is the _Goldweigher’s Field_, a bird’s-eye
view of a plain near the Zuyder Zee; a summary, learned memorandum
of the estate and country-house, with all its appurtenances, of
Uytenbogaert, the Receiver-General, of whom there is a representation
amongst the Rembrandt portraits. If you can afford it, and if fortune
smiles upon you by bestowing opportunity of acquisition, you will
want not only the less costly portrait of the _Goldweigher_, but the
landscape of the _Goldweigher’s Field_. There are rarer things than
that in Rembrandt’s work--not much that is more desirable. £44 was
paid for an impression, probably not quite of the first order, at
the Firmin-Didot sale, £54 at the Liphart, £72 at the Holford. The
landscapes yet more difficult to find, command, of course, even higher
prices, and this somewhat independently of their artistic interest,
which only in a very few cases--and then with very exceptional
impressions--equals that of the prints I have already named.
Of these yet rarer landscapes, as well as the other ones, Mr Holford’s
collection was certainly the finest dispersed in recent times. His sale
took place at Christie’s in July 1893; and at it, for the _View of
Omval_--an exceptionally splendid impression of a somewhat favourite
yet not extraordinarily rare subject--£320 was paid by M. Bouillon. The
subject, though in impressions of very different quality, had been sold
in the Sir Abraham Hume sale for £47, and in the Duke of Buccleuch’s
for £44. £170 was paid for the _Three Trees_, the one Rembrandt
landscape which has a touch of the sensational, which adds to its
real merit the obvious and immediate attractiveness of the dramatic
effect. Herr Meder, the dealer of Berlin, bought the First State of
_The Three Cottages_ for £275. The sum of £210 was the ransom of the
First State of the slightly arched print _A Village with the Square
Tower_. The impression, which was from the Aylesford collection, was
of unparalleled brilliance, and the State is of extraordinary rarity,
though M. Dutuit notes its presence at Amsterdam and at the British
Museum. To M. Bouillon was knocked down for £260 a faultless impression
of _The Canal_, a print which at the Galichon sale had passed under the
hammer for £80, and even at the Buccleuch for £120. Messrs Colnaghi
bought for £145 a most sparkling impression of the rare First State
of the broadly treated _Landscape with a Ruined Tower_, more properly
called by the French cataloguers _Paysage à la Tour_, for in this
First State there is no sign of “ruin.” Doubtless when the title by
which it is known in England was first applied to it, the amateur was
unfamiliar with this rarest State, in which the dome of the tower is
intact. In the Second State it has disappeared, and in the Third there
are other minor changes. The reader will remember that already, two
or three pages back, I have referred to this print as a masterpiece,
than which none is more desirable or more representative. A perfect
impression of the _Landscape with a Flock of Sheep_ (from the John
Barnard collection) sold for £245; the First State of the _Landscape
with an Obelisk_ for £185; an _Orchard with a Barn_ (the early State,
before the plate was cut at either end) for £170; and the First State
of the _Landscape with a Boat_--an impression extraordinarily full of
“bur”--for £200. Altogether, the Rembrandts in the Holford sale--and
I shall have to refer to some of them again before I finish the
chapter--sold for £16,000. Richard Fisher’s Rembrandts had fetched
about £1500; Sir Abraham Hume’s, £4000; Sir Seymour Haden’s, £4700; the
Duke of Buccleuch’s, something over £10,000. The last is a figure which
was never expected to be surpassed--hardly, perhaps, to be equalled.
Yet it was surpassed very much.
But now it is high time I said a little about the desirableness
of Rembrandt portraits and about their money value. No engraved
portraiture in all the world, not even the mezzotints after Sir Joshua,
present with so much power so great a range of varied character. For an
artistic treatment of Humanity equally sterling and austere, you must
go back to Holbein’s drawings. For a variety as engaging, a vividness
and flexibility as sure of their effect, only the pastels by La Tour
in the Museum of St Quentin rival these Rembrandt records of Jew and
Gentile, old and young, and rich and poor in Amsterdam.
As in painting, so in etching, Rembrandt was himself one of his best
models. In no less than thirty-four of his prints--according to the
Catalogue of Wilson--do we find he has portrayed, at different ages,
his homely, striking, penetrating face. Sometimes he is a youth;
sometimes the burden of experience is visibly laid on him; sometimes
he is engrossed with work, as in the superb _Rembrandt Drawing_;
sometimes, as in the _Rembrandt with a Sabre_, masquerading; sometimes
he is depicted with great fulness of record; sometimes, as in the
admirable little rarity, Wilson 364 (not catalogued amongst the
Rembrandt portraits, because the plate has other heads as well), a few
lines, chosen with the alacrity and certainty of genius, bring him
before us, sturdy, sagacious, and with mind bent upon a problem he is
sure to solve. The _Rembrandt with a Sabre_, at the Holford sale--a
thing almost unique--fell to the bid of M. Deprez of £2000, and has
joined now the other extraordinary possessions of Baron Edmond De
Rothschild. At the Holford sale, the _Rembrandt with a Turned-up Hat
and Embroidered Mantle_--an almost unique First State, drawn on by
Rembrandt, but none the better on that account--fetched £420. Of the
_Rembrandt Drawing_ there were two impressions. One of them, which
Mr Middleton-Wake assures us is the First, and which Wilson justly
describes as at all events “the finest,” sold for £280 to Herr Meder.
The impression was of unmatched brilliancy and vigour, the whole thing
as spontaneous and impulsive as anything in Rembrandt’s work. The
second impression sold--an impression to which the honours of a true
Second State are now assigned--fetched £82, and was borne away by Mr
Gutekunst of Stuttgart.
That famous Holford sale, in which, as I have said already, the
_Rembrandt with the Sabre_ sold for a couple of thousand, and in which
the “Hundred Guilder” (_Christ Healing the Sick_) beat at least its
own record, and was sold for £1750, contained among the portraits
an impression of the elaborate _Ephraim Bonus_, “with the black
ring,” the only one with this singular and somewhat petty distinction
which could ever come into the market; the remaining impressions
being tied up permanently at the British Museum and the Bibliothèque
Nationale. M. Danlos took it across the Channel, having paid £1950
for the opportunity of doing so. The _Burgomaster Six_, an almost
mezzotint-like portrait in general effect--highly wrought, and with
an obvious delicacy--always fetches a high price. At the Holford
sale an impression called “Second State” fell to Colnaghi’s bid of
£380. At the Seymour Haden, one called a “Third”--a very exquisite
impression--reached £390. It came from the collection of Sir Abraham
Hume, and Sir Seymour, in the Preface to his sale catalogue, properly
pointed out that with the _Six_, as with the _Ephraim Bonus_, what are
practically trial-proofs have been erected into “States.” The Third
State of the _Old Haaring_, a portrait of a venerable, kindly, perhaps
ceremonious gentleman, who practised the profession of an auctioneer,
is scarcely less rare than the rest. When found among the Holford
treasures, it sold for £190.
For nearly the same price the benign portrait of _John Lutma_, the
goldsmith--an impression in the First State, however, “before the
window and the bottle”--passed into the hands of the same buyer. That
plate--one of the most admirable in the work of Rembrandt--affords,
in its First State, an instance of the artificial advantage of mere
rarity. Because certain collectors are accustomed to see it more or
less worn, with the window and the bottle behind the seated figure,
they will never give for it, even when it is not worn--if the window
and the bottle happen to be there--one-third the sum that they pay
willingly when those objects are absent, which Rembrandt knew were
wanted to complete the composition. Now, in the case of the _Great
Jewish Bride_--a portrait really of Rembrandt’s wife, Saskia, with
flowing hair--the background is a loss, clearly, the earlier State
being invariably the finer and the more spontaneous. With the _Lutma_
it is not so. There is no doubt that the additions add charm, add
luminousness, to the general effect; but the fine eye is wanted, the
eye of the real expert, to see to it that the impression which contains
these is yet an impression in which deterioration is not visible--that
it is, in fact, one of the very earliest impressions after the
additions had been made.
[Illustration:
REMBRANDT: _Lutma_.
]
To make an end of the record of great prices fetched by the portraits
in the Holford sale, let it be said that the _Cornelius Sylvius_--the
impression Wilson pronounced to be the finest--sold for £450; that
a Second State of the rare, and on that account, as I suppose, the
favourite portrait of the Advocate _Van Tolling_, fetched £530; whilst
an exceedingly effective impression of the big portrait of _Coppenol_,
the writing-master, realised no less than £1350.
But without touching any one of these great rarities, modest
collectors, whose modesty yet does not go the length of making them
satisfied with second-rate Art, may still have noble portraits. Six
or seven guineas--I mean, of course, when opportunity arises--secures
you the quite exquisite and delicately modelled _croquis_ (but is it
not, after all, something more than a _croquis_?) called _Portrait
of a Woman, lightly etched_. Rembrandt was very young when he did
that, yet his art was mature, his point unspeakably vivacious. It is
a portrait of his mother. So again, the _Mère de Rembrandt au voile
noir_--the lady sitting, somewhat austere this time, with set mouth,
and the old full-veined hands folded in rest--never, I think, in its
happiest impression costs more than £20--may very likely cost you a
good deal less. Ten guineas will very likely be the ransom of that
charming portrait of a boy-child in profile, which was once thought to
record the features of Titus, Rembrandt’s son, and then those of the
little Prince of Orange. It is a delightful vision of youth, demure and
chubby, and in its dainty drawing of light and silky hair, does even
Whistler’s _Fanny Leyland_ rival it? Are you disposed to venture £30,
£40, £50? Then may you, in due time, add to your group a First State
of the most subtle portrait of that meditative print-seller, _Clément
de Jonghe_. It is treated with singular breadth and luminousness,
and of character it is a profound revelation. By the time the Third
State is reached--and a good Third State may be worth fifteen or
twenty pounds--the thing has changed. Indeed, it has changed already
a little in the Second. But in the Third, further work has endowed
the personage with the air of a more visible romance; and in the two
succeeding States this is preserved, though the wear of course becomes
perceptible. It is well, by way of contrast, to possess yourself of
this more sentimental record--the Third, if possible, in preference
to the Fourth or Fifth State--besides, of course, that subtler and
far finer vision of the personage which is ensured by the First State
alone. The time may soon be upon us when a First State of _Clément
de Jonghe_ will be worth, not thirty or forty, but sixty or eighty
guineas. It has always been appreciated, but it has not yet been
appreciated at its true worth. Nothing in all the great etched work of
Rembrandt is in craftsmanship more unobtrusively magnificent, and in
its suggestion of complex character nothing is more subtle.
[Illustration:
REMBRANDT: _Clément de Jonghe_.
]
It was well, perhaps, to insist particularly on the desirableness, for
study and possession, of these two great branches of the etched work of
Rembrandt, the Landscapes and the Portraits. It would be ridiculous to
attack the authenticity of any piece that I have mentioned. No one, so
far as I am aware, has ever thought of doing so; so that with these,
at all events, as well as with many others, the collector is safe. But
my insistence on the things I have selected will not deter explorers
from adventures that interest them. The unction, the vividness, and the
essential dignity even of those Sacred Subjects from which he is at
first repelled by the presence there so abundantly of the ungainly and
the common, will in the end attract the collector. He will recognise
that there was pathos in the life Rembrandt imagined, as well as
in the life that he observed. And in the Academical studies, the
representations of the Nude, he will recognise that there is Style
constantly, and beauty now and then. One or two of these, at least, he
will like to have, if he can. Two of them seem to me better and more
desirable than the rest. One is that study of a recumbent woman--_Naked
Woman seen from behind_--which the French sometimes call _Négresse
couchée_; but she is not “Negress” at all, but only a stripped woman
beheld in deepish shadow. This is one of the least rare. Five or six
pounds will often buy it. The other is the _Woman with the Arrow_. A
slimmer, lighter, younger woman than is usual with Rembrandt, sits,
with figure turned prettily, on the edge of a bed. The drawing is
not academically perfect, but the picture is at least living flesh,
graceful of pose, and seen in an admirable arrangement of shadow and of
light. This _Woman with the Arrow_ fetched, in the Kalle sale, £26; in
the Knowles sale, £32.
The so-called “Free Subjects” are few, and the rudest of them,
_Ledikant_, which has yet a touch of comedy in it (for Rembrandt was an
observer always), is fortunately of extreme rarity. With not a single
one of these ought the collector to be concerned. Some French artists
have known how to make their choice of such subjects pardonable by
treating them with grace; but the eroticism of Rembrandt--happily most
occasional--is, in the very grossness of its obvious comedy, reeking
with offence.
In regard to the arrangement of the prints by the master who is the
head and front of the Dutch school, and the consummate practitioner
of Etching--I mean, the arrangement in the student’s mind, and not
only the arrangement in the solander-box--the question of the artist’s
method of execution plays a not unimportant part. Are you to classify
your possessions in order of date, or in accordance with subject, or
with reference to style and manner of work? That third method, however,
would be found in its result not very different from the arrangement
by date. Broadly speaking, it would have affinity with that. For, as
Sir Seymour Haden tells us in an interesting Lecture called “Rembrandt
True and False,” which the Macmillans issued in 1895, the Burlington
Club Exhibition was itself sufficient “to disclose the interesting
fact that, dividing the thirty years of Rembrandt’s etching career
into three parts or decades, his plates during the first of these
decades were for the most part etched--‘bitten in,’ that is, by a
mordant--in the second, that after having been so bitten in, their
effect was enhanced by the addition of ‘dry-point’; and in the third,
that, discarding altogether the colder chemical process, the artist had
generally depended on the more painter-like employment of ‘dry-point’
alone.” And in regard to methods of work, Sir Seymour in this Lecture
discredited the statement that Rembrandt was full of mysterious
contrivances, and that his success as an etcher owed much to these.
“All the great painter-engravers, in common with all great artists,
worked simply and with the simplest tools. It is only the mechanical
engraver and copyist who depends for what he calls his ‘quality’ on
a multiplicity of instrumental aids which, in fact, do the work for
him--the object of the whole of them being to make that work as easy to
an assistant as to the engraver himself, and its inevitable effect, to
reduce that which was once an art to the level of a _métier_.”