Before quitting this subject, I wish to make a few remarks. It has been said by some of Rembrandt's biographers, that he made alterations in his prints for the sake of enhancing their value; but we know by experience that every alteration he made, however it might be for the better, struck off a certain portion of its money value. I believe his desire to better the effect was the only incitement. Many were improved by his working upon them after the first proofs, and many were deteriorated in effect; but every additional line at the least struck off a guilder. I have mentioned that in this etching the brilliancy of the light in the window is enhanced by its being surrounded by a mass of dark; but the same advantage would have accrued from its extension by a mass of half light, as it would then have had a greater breadth of soft light. This subject was a great favourite with the late Sir David Wilkie, and he introduced this window in his picture of "The School;" but this being a light composition, he treated it in the way I have mentioned above. It was a common practice with Wilkie to adopt some part of a celebrated work as a point to work from, and carry out his design upon this suggestion. The spectator, by this means, was drawn into a predisposition of its excellence, without knowing whence it had arisen. Thus, in his "John Knox Preaching," there are many points of similarity with the "St. Paul Preaching," by Raffaelle. I may also mention here what we often perceive in the works of Rembrandt—in place of having the light hemmed in by a dark boundary, it is spread out into a mass of half-light; and the same treatment is adopted with regard to his extreme darks, they communicate their properties to the surrounding ground. These qualities are the foundation of breadth and softness of effect.

These observations may appear iterations of what has been mentioned before—but truths get strengthened by being placed in new positions. In dividing a work of this kind into portions, it is difficult to give a preference to any department, especially with such an artist as Rembrandt, who was equally celebrated in all—and I have only given a priority to historical subjects as they hold a higher rank than portraiture. But his portraits are those productions of his pencil which are most peculiar to himself.



PORTRAIT OF THE BURGOMASTER SIX.

This is the most finished and perfect of all the etchings of Rembrandt; and as it was done expressly for his friend and patron, we can easily imagine that the painter exerted himself to the utmost, so as to render it worthy of the subject. I have been at some trouble to get an account of the family of Jan Six, but have gleaned little from those books connected with the history of Holland. During the war with England, in the reign of Charles the Second, he was Secretary of State to the City of Amsterdam, and his family was afterwards connected with some of their most celebrated men. But what has rendered his name more famous than intermarrying with the families of Van Tromp or De Ruyter, is his patronage of Rembrandt—in the same way that Lord Southampton's name is ennobled by his patronage of Shakspere. We know he was devoted to literature as well as the fine arts, having left a tragedy on the story of Medea, a copy of which is mentioned in the catalogue of Rembrandt's effects, and an etching by the artist was prefixed to the work—viz., the "Marriage of Jason and Creusa;" the rare states of this print are before the quotation of the Dutch verses underneath—also the statue of Juno is without the diadem, which was afterwards added. I have mentioned that this portrait was a private plate; in fact, the copper is still in the possession of the family. In a sale which took place in 1734, for a division of the property among the various branches, fourteen impressions were sold, but brought comparatively small prices, from the number to be contended for. Two proofs, however, on India paper are still in the portfolio of his descendants, which in five years will, it is said, be brought to the hammer, as by that time the parties will be of age. These proofs will in all probability realize two hundred guineas each. The ease and natural attitude of the figure in this work are admirable: the intensity of the light, with the delicacy and truth of the reflected lights, are rendered with the strong stamp of genius; the diffusion of the light also, by means of the papers on the chair, and the few sparkling touches in the shadow, completely take this etching out of the catalogue of common portraiture. The only work I can at present think of that can be brought into competition with it, is the full-length portrait of Charles the First, by Vandyke, in the Queen's Collection, and which is rendered so familiar by Strange's admirable engraving.

In entering into an examination of the execution of this print, it is evident the whole effect is produced by means of the dry point, which must have been a work of great labour. The best impressions are on India paper; and I perceive, by referring to Gersaint's catalogue, that at the sale of the Burgomaster's property, they only brought about eighteen florins. The next portrait amongst his etchings that at all approaches to the Burgomaster, is that of "Old Haring," which has always struck me as one of the foundations for the style of Sir Joshua Reynolds in portraiture. A fine impression of this work, on India paper, is more like Sir Joshua than many prints after his own pictures; and with all the high veneration I have for Reynolds, I cannot omit noticing how very ambiguously he frequently speaks of this great genius. We know his master, Hudson, had an excellent collection of Rembrandt's works, and therefore he must have been early imbued with their merits and peculiarities. This, however, we shall have a better opportunity of noticing when we come to the treatment of colour. The next etching in excellence I should mention is the "Portrait of John Lutma, the Goldsmith," with the light background; this was afterwards softened down by the introduction of a window. And here I must observe, that though he often had light backgrounds to his prints, yet in his finished pictures they were generally the reverse. The etching of "Ephraim Bonus, the Jewish Physician," is also one of his most effective works; the introduction of the balustrade, on which he leans descending the staircase, removes it from the ordinary level of mere portraiture. On the hand that rests upon the balustrade, is a ring, which in the very rare impressions, from its being done with the dry point, prints dark from the burr. These are invaluable, as in that state the whole work has the fulness and richness of a picture. A very large sum was given for the impression of the print in this state—now in the British Museum—in fact, one hundred and sixty pounds; though at the Verstolke sale, where this print was purchased, the commission given amounted to two hundred and fifty pounds: but when we consider that the collection in the British Museum is now the finest in existence, no extra price should be spared to complete the collection, especially as these works are foundations for the sure improvement of the fine arts in the country. The crown jewels are exhibited as a necessary appendage to the rank of the nation—but there the value stops; now the works of art in this country are not only valuable, but intrinsically beneficial. We know that Charles the Second pawned the crown pearls to the Dutch for a few thousands; but our collection of Rembrandts would realize in Holland at least ten thousand pounds. This, of course, is a digression, and is merely mentioned here to show how absurd the hue and cry is, that the country is wasting money in purchasing a few specimens of fine art. The "Portrait of Utenbogardus" is also excellent; and I may here notice the large book, which Rembrandt was so fond of introducing, as a means of a breadth of light and employment for his portraits. Now, to these circumstances we are indebted for some of the finest works of both Reynolds and Lawrence: amongst many, I might mention the large ledger in Lawrence's "Portraits of the Baring Family," and Sir Joshua's picture of the "Dilettante Society," and others. No doubt we find these means of making up a picture both in Raffaelle and Titian; but it is rendered more applicable to our own purposes when it is brought nearer to our own times, especially when translated by so great a genius as Rembrandt. The next fine work amongst his etchings is the "Portrait of Cornelius Silvius," the head of which, being delicately finished with the dry needle, is seldom seen very fine. This also has a book, and the hand extended beyond the frame of the oval opening, upon which it casts its shadow. This practice of representing objects nearer the eye than the frame is certainly to be observed in some of the prints after Rubens and others, and has descended to several common prints in our own time, but ought not to be adopted, as bordering too much upon that art which may be designated as a sort of ad captandum vulgus display. As we shall speak more particularly of Rembrandt's portraits when colour is investigated, these works are merely mentioned as excellent specimens of composition and chiaro-scuro. I must not omit, however, to notice here the great Coppenol, the writing-master to the city of Amsterdam: he holds a pen and a sheet of paper in his hand, and is looking at the spectator with a look of intelligent observation. The head and figure of this work were perfected, in the first instance, before the background was put in, and in this state is exceedingly rare—the one in the British Museum is valued at five hundred guineas, and was left, amongst other rare works in his collection, by the Rev. Mr. Cracherode, to the public. And here we ought to bear in mind, when individuals contribute so largely by their bequests to the country, it is our bounden duty to carry out their views by perfecting the various collections as opportunities offer in the course of time, which to them was impossible. In one of the impressions in the Museum, in a finished state, is written, in a large ornamental hand, a commendation by Coppenol himself, wherein he says he does so to unite his name with that of the great artist, Rembrandt Van Ryn, as by that means he knows he shall secure immortality to himself. The portrait, however, that is the most powerful, as well as the most rare, is Van Tolling the Advocate. The effect, both from the reflected light on the face, and the fearless masses of burr, is more like a picture than a print, and renders every other etching comparatively tame. From the chemical bottles at the side, and from the character of the gown in which he is dressed, I am of opinion that he was a physician. The excellence of this work, added to its rarity, has at all times produced large prices. There are two states of this print—the first with an irregular beard, the second with the beard cut square, also some additional work on the drapery, &c.; but, what is worthy of remark is, in both states it is exceedingly scarce; in fact, there are but seven impressions known—viz., two in the British Museum, one in Mr. Holford's collection, one in Mr. Hawkins', in Amsterdam one, in Paris one, and one in the collection of Mr. Rudge. I ought here to notice that the Van Tolling is one of the prints bequeathed to the nation by the Rev. Mr. Cracherode, and that at the sale of the Hon. Pole Carew's prints, in 1835, this valuable etching was purchased for the late Baron Verstolke, for two hundred and twenty pounds.



* * * * *

I shall now enter upon an investigation of the LANDSCAPES OF REMBRANDT, which, equally with his portraits, are quite peculiar to himself, but differing from all others not from any eccentricity of manner, but from their giving the real essence and character of the scene, when denuded of any trifling and extraneous matters. Whatever Rembrandt touched was impressed with the peculiar characteristics of his genius; hence it is that the smallest stroke in his etchings is pregnant with truth. Though painting belongs exclusively to no country, but represents the natural appearance of each, still it is reserved for genius alone to be able to perceive and place on canvas the essence, as it were, or great leading features of the subject. I am now more particularly speaking of landscape scenery. In all countries and climates there are peculiarities of effect, which, however interesting to the traveller, or a source of investigation to the philosopher or man of science, yet are necessarily excluded from the recording pencil of the artist; his appeal is to mankind at large, not to the isolated few who observe but one side of the subject. The true artist looks upon nature as the chameleon, capable of giving out any variety, and yet all equally true; hence it is that the skies, for example, of Claude, Salvator Rosa, and Gaspar Poussin are universally subordinate to the general effect of the picture. These men, living in Italy, were quite aware of the various prismatic effects observable in sunset, but were also convinced of the necessity of making the sky subservient, at least conducive to, the breadth and harmony of the picture. It may be said that Titian and Tintoret embodied the deep and intense blues of the Venetian atmosphere, but we may remark that their skies are always held in check by the deep reds and browns of the draperies of their figures. Let us now, however, turn our remarks more immediately to Rembrandt, and the scenery and effects observable in Holland. Any one conversant with the pictures of the Dutch school must have observed peculiar features in the skies of Backhuysen, Cuyp, and Rembrandt, arising entirely from the localities of the scenes of their several pictures. My young friend, E. W. Cooke, long a resident in Holland, and a keen and observing artist, remarked that the skies in the pictures of Backhuysen, though dark and inky, were precisely what we see now—the deep Zuyder Sea swallowing up any refraction of light which would otherwise have illuminated the clouds; while the skies of Cuyp, receiving the coruscations arising from the meeting of the two rivers, the Meuse and the Waal, the scenes of most of his pictures, exhibit that luminous reflection and unsteady appearance peculiar to his works. I mention these matters, not to prove that these great observers of nature followed implicitly what was presented to their observation, but to show that when even copying the peculiar character of natural phenomena, it was done with a strict reference to the harmony of their works, and made subservient to one great broad principle. In a flat country like Holland, especially where a low horizontal line is chosen, we perceive a peculiar feature takes precedence of everything else—that is, the quick diminution of those lines which run to the point of sight, whilst the lines running parallel with the base line of the picture retain their length in a greater degree; hence the accumulation of these lines, such as the division of fields, &c., gradually shade down the distant parts of the landscape, while the foreshortened lines assume the appearance of so many spots, or dark touches. In Rembrandt we perceive this character faithfully rendered, and also, assisted by his judicious management, the lines, such as the banks of canals or roads, as they reach the foreground, are strongly pronounced, by either bringing them in contact with strong light, or giving them breadth and force by enriching them with broken ground, reeds, or dark herbage. The objects that stand up, such as trees, &c., are enlarged and darkened as they approach the eye; thus not only enabling them to keep their situation, but also to assist the perspective effect in the highest degree. His small landscape etchings illustrate these remarks, and are full of the touches of truth and nature; and where objects are wanting to give variety and interest, he introduces masses of shadow, or dark clumps of trees, leaving other parts in mere outline. The love of his art caused him to be always provided with the materials for drawing and etching, so that we have these transcripts of nature fresh from the fountain head. We know this from an anecdote mentioned by Daulby. In describing the etching of "Six's Bridge," in his catalogue, he says, "This plate was produced by an incident which deserves to be related. Rembrandt lived in great intimacy with the Burgomaster Six, and was frequently at his country seat. One day, when they were there together, the servant came to acquaint them that dinner was ready, but as they were sitting down to table, they perceived that mustard was wanting. The Burgomaster immediately ordered his servant to go into the village to buy some. Rembrandt, who knew the sluggishness of the Dutch servants, and when they answer austons (a-coming) they are half an hour before they appear, offered the Burgomaster a wager that he would etch a plate before his man returned with the mustard. Six accepted the wager, and Rembrandt, who had always plates at hand ready varnished, immediately took one up, and etched upon it the landscape which appeared from the window of the parlour in which they were sitting. The plate was finished before the servant returned, and Rembrandt won his wager. The etching is slight, but it is a wonderful performance, considering the circumstance that produced it." It is not wonderful on account of the rapidity with which it was done, but the genius and science that pervade every touch, not only in the general arrangement, but in the judicious management of the smallest darks; they are all in the most effective situations. When the plate was bit in, the name was left out; it was afterwards added with the dry point; also a little shading was given to the hat of one of the figures on the bridge, which in the rare state is white. I may notice here that it was also Rembrandt's practice to sketch with the dry point alone, as several of his landscapes show; this has a very rich and full effect. His most finished and striking landscape is perhaps the etching of the "Three Trees." What I have said respecting his giving force to those parts nearest the eye, may be seen in the strong dark under the platform of the mill—which etching I have given, as it has always been considered the mill in which he was born; but I believe it is merely a mill of a picturesque character, which he consequently etched. In the rare impressions, the sky is much stained on the plate towards the house and mill, and I believe intentionally so, as it enables the subject to melt more softly into the background, by the outline being less harsh; at least, I found in my copy, when the person employed to clean the margin of the plate cleaned the stains in the sky also, that I had to restore them. As it will be necessary to go over the ground again with regard to Rembrandt's landscapes, when we enter upon an investigation of his principles of colour, I shall now commence upon that department, fully conscious how high he stands as an artist in that difficult branch of the art, at the same time aware how feeble words must be to express adequately the deep-toned richness of Rembrandt's colouring.



COLOUR.

Perhaps, if we can comprehend a species of coloured chiaro-scuro, or the addition of colour to the broad and soft principles of light and shade, we shall be able to form a clear perception of the effects of Rembrandt's colouring. Indistinctness of tint, such as colours assume under the influence of twilight, is a strong characteristic of his manner—the shadows never so dark that a black or blue cannot tell firmly in the midst of them; with the total absence of all harshness, from the outlines of objects melting into their adjacent grounds, or assuming an importance after emerging from a mass of indefinite corresponding hues. As he has a mass of shadow with a mass of light, so he has an accumulation of warm colours in opposition to a congregation of cold—every combination introduced conducing to the great principles of breadth. When such is the plan upon which a work is laid down, we can easily perceive how powerfully the smallest touch of positive colour will tell—as in the midst of stillness a pin falling to the ground will be heard. Cuyp has this quality in a high degree, only on another scale—a uniformity of unbroken tone, and in masses of half-tint only, like a few sparkles of light touches, dealt out with the most parsimonious pencil, producing a glitter like so many diamonds. This it is that prevents a work from being heavy, for by their fewness they require not the aid of black grounds to give them consequence, and by their being touched upon colours of the same quality, they avoid the appearance of harshness; in fact, the principles of these two great artists were the same; only from the general tone of Cuyp's pictures being light, his strong darks tell with great power, and Rembrandt's half tints being of a low tone, his high lights become more forcible. I may here mention not only the breadth of Rembrandt's shadows, but their peculiar transparency and clearness, loose in the handling, and filled with air and space, whereas his lights are solid and firm—possessing not only the characteristics of nature in distinctiveness, but also in variety; and though we see always, on a general principle, light upon light and dark on a dark ground, yet we perceive inroads made upon each by their several antagonists; hot and cold colours darting into each other's provinces. This practice is also conducive to breadth, for tints of different hues may be interspersed both in the darks and lights, provided they are of equal strength with those adjoining them. We may observe in Rembrandt—that those colours introduced into the shadows are more under the influence of indistinctness, while those in the light are brighter; this is quite a deviation from the Roman school, where the colours are pronounced so harshly as to set the influence of chiaro-scuro at defiance.

Barry, in his sixth lecture, speaking of colours, says—"The happy effects of those sure and infallible principles of light and colour which Rubens had so successfully disseminated in the Netherlands, were soon found in every department of art. Landscapes, portraits, drolls, and even the dullest and most uninteresting objects of still life, possess irresistible charms and fascination from the magic of those principles. Rembrandt, who, it is said, was never at Venice, might, notwithstanding, have seen, without going out of his country, many pictures of the Venetian school. Besides, he was about thirty years younger than Rubens, whose works were a general object of study when Rembrandt was forming himself. But, however it be, there is no doubt, for the colouring and chiaro-scuro, Rembrandt is one of the most able artists that ever lived. Nothing can exceed the beauty, freshness, and vigour of his tints. They have the same truth, high relish, and sapidity as those of Titian. Indeed, they have the closest resemblance to the hues of Titian when he had Giorgione most in view. There is identically the same attention to the relievo and force obtained by his strong shadows and low deep tones; and his chiaro-scuro, though sometimes too artificial, is yet often (particularly in contrasted subjects) productive of the most fascinating effects. In the tones of Rembrandt, though we recognise the same richness and depth as in Giorgione and Titian, yet there is a suppleness and lifelike character in his flesh unlike either, both from his manner of handling, and also his hot and cold tints being less blended."

The late Sir David Wilkie, in one of his letters, speaking of the death of Sir Thomas Lawrence, says—"I do not wonder at the impression made among you in Rome by the death of Sir Thomas Lawrence; here, it engrossed for a time every other pursuit. One of the last remarks he made to me indicated his extreme admiration of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who, he thought, had, with Rembrandt, carried the imitation of nature, in regard to colours, further than any of the old masters." In many of the higher qualities of colour and chiaro-scuro, Reynolds comes nearer to Rembrandt than any other artist who has succeeded him.

Reynolds, in his lectures, speaking of Gainsborough, observes—"We must not forget, whilst we are on this subject, to make some remarks on his custom of painting by night, which confirms what I have already mentioned—his great affection to his art, since he could not amuse himself in the evening by any other means so agreeable to himself. I am, indeed, much inclined to believe that it is a practice very advantageous and improving to an artist, for by this means he will acquire a new and higher perception of what is great and beautiful in nature. By candlelight, not only objects appear more beautiful, but from their being in a greater breadth of light and shadow, as well as having a greater breadth and uniformity of colour, nature appears in a higher style, and even the flesh seems to take a higher and richer tone of colour. Judgment is to direct us in the use to be made of this method of study; but the method itself is, I am very sure, advantageous. I have often imagined that the two great colourists, Titian and Coreggio, though I do not know that they painted by night, formed their high ideas of colouring from the effects of objects by this artificial light. But I am more assured that whoever attentively studies the first and best manner of Guercino will be convinced that he either painted by this light, or formed his manner on this conception."

How far Coreggio may have formed his principles upon the effects of lamplight it is impossible to decide, seeing that, though his shadows have great breadth, yet his lights have more of a phosphorescent character, tinged, as it were, with the coolness of moonlight; but Titian has all the glow of this property, or, as Reynolds remarks, "as if he painted with the sun shining into the room." The Italian pictures of Vandyke have much of this phosphorescent character—whereas many of those he painted in England have more of a daylight appearance. With regard to Rembrandt, he seems to have regulated the entire scheme both of his chiaro-scuro and colour, on this foundation: his many paintings, drawings, and etchings of candlelight subjects, show how much his taste led to this class of art; and his daylight pictures, from the warmth of colour and breadth of shadow, proclaim the source from which he derived the cause of their brilliancy and force. From the light being tinged with yellow, the half-tone partakes of the same warmth, which gives a greenish tint even to his grey tones. This conduct conveys an emanation of the principal light passing over the more delicate shadows. In his daylight subjects it is not so; the light being often comparatively cool, is allowed to extend its influence to the secondary lights, and then, as it subsides into the shadow, is led in by the dark being lighted up by touches of red and brown; thus the light touches in the dark are warm, though the high light and secondary are cool. In Coreggio we often find the shadows more hot than even in Rembrandt, from his principal light and secondary being more cool. Rembrandt never allows his lights, even though comparatively cool, to pass into the shadow without a few touches of warm colour; this was the practice of Rubens, to enrich, as it were, "the debateable land." When this principle of painting candlelight subjects fell into the hands of his pupils, the harmony and colouring of the whole were lost or changed. For example, Hoogstraten, his pupil, instructed Schalcken, as did also Gerard Dow; but the candlelight pieces of Schalcken are hot and foxy, without any redeeming grey tones. When he painted by candlelight, he placed his sitter in a dark room, with a light, while he painted in another apartment, having a hole cut through the door to communicate with his sitter; the consequence was, the effect gave exactly what we see in such cases—a red, dull treatment of colour. We know these facts by an anecdote told of William the Third. When Schalcken was over in England, the King wished to sit to him for his portrait, and hearing of his celebrity in candlelight pieces, wished it painted under that effect. The painter placed a light in his Majesty's hand, and retired into the outer room; the candle guttering, kept dropping on the King's hand, but being unwilling to disturb the artist, the King held on, while the painter, intent on his work, proceeded without noticing it. Many of our English artists paint by gaslight; but the tones of the flesh are not benefited, gas shedding a white cool light compared with lamplight.

The practice of painting by candlelight originated neither with Rembrandt nor Gainsborough; in fact, we find that all academies, from the time of Bacio Bandinelli to our own, were always opened at night, both for the purposes of drawing and painting. But these effects generally remain where they originated, and are seldom taken advantage of without the walls, the figure alone being considered, without reference to the background. Tintoret was one of the first to apply the principles to his practice. Fuseli, speaking of chiaro-scuro, says—"The nocturnal studies of Tintoret, from models and artificial groups, have been celebrated; those prepared in wax or clay he arranged, raised, suspended, to produce masses, foreshortening, and effect. It was thence he acquired that decision of chiaro-scuro, unknown to more expanded daylight, by which he divided his bodies, and those wings of obscurity and light by which he separated the groups of his composition; though the mellowness of his eye nearly always instructed him to connect the two extremes by something that partook of both, as the extremes themselves by the reflexes with the background or the scenery. The general rapidity of his process, by which he baffled his competitors, and often overwhelmed himself, did not, indeed, always permit him to attend deliberately to this principle, and often hurried him into an abuse of practice which in the lights turned breadth into mannered or insipid flatness; and in the shadows into a total extinction of parts. Of all this he has in the schools of San Rollo and Marco given the most unquestionable instances—'The Resurrection of Christ,' and 'The Massacre of the Innocents,' comprehend every charm by which chiaro-scuro fascinates its votaries. In the vision, dewy dawn melts into deep but pellucid shade, itself sent or reflected by celestial splendour and angelic hues; whilst in the infant massacre of Bethlehem, alternate sheets of stormy light and agitated gloom dash horror on the astonished eye."

Rembrandt, like Tintoret, never destroyed the effective character of his chiaro-scuro by the addition of his colour, but made it a main contributor to the general character of the subject; hence that undisturbed and engulphing breadth which pervades his works. Fuseli, in the same lecture, defends the Venetian school from being considered as the "ornamental school." After selecting several of the pictures of Titian, as proofs of his grand and solemn specimens of colour, he thus proceeds—"But perhaps it is not to Titian, but to Tintoret and Paul Cagliari, that the debaucheries of colour, and blind submission to fascinating tints, the rage of scattering flowers to no purpose, are ascribed. Let us select from Tintoret's most extensive work in the Scuola of San Rocco, the most extensive composition, and his acknowledged masterpiece—'The Crucifixion,' and compare its tone with that of Rubens and Rembrandt of the same subject. What impression feels he who for the first time casts a glance over the immense scenery of that work? a whole whose numberless parts are connected by a lowering, mournful, minacious tone. A general fearful silence hushes all around the central figure of the Saviour suspended on the cross, his fainting mother, and a group of male and female mourners at its foot—a group of colours that less imitate than rival nature, and tinged by grief itself; a scale of tones for which even Titian offers me no parallel—yet all equally overcast by the lurid tone that stains the whole, and like a meteor hangs in the sickly air. Whatever inequality or dereliction of feeling, whatever improprieties of commonplace, of local and antique costume, the master's rapidity admitted to fill his space, and they are great, all vanish in the power which compresses them into a single point, and we do not detect them till we recover from our terror."

The picture of Rubens which we oppose to Tintoret was painted for the Church of St. Walburgha, at Antwerp, after his return from Italy, and has been minutely described and as exquisitely criticised by Reynolds: "Christ," he says, "is nailed to the cross, with a number of figures exerting themselves to raise it. The invention of throwing the cross obliquely from one corner of the picture to the other, is finely conceived, something in the manner of Tintoret." So far Reynolds. "In Tintoret," says Fuseli, "it is the cross of one of the criminals they attempt to raise, who casts his eye on Christ, already raised. The body of Christ is the grandest, in my opinion, that Rubens ever painted; it seems to be imitated from the Torso of Apollonius, and that of the Laocoon. How far it be characteristic of Christ, or correspondent with the situation, I shall not here inquire; my object is the ruling tone of the whole—and of this the criticism quoted says not a word, though much of local colour, and grey and ochry balance. Would so great a master of tone as Reynolds have forgot this master-key if he had found it in the picture? The fact is, the picture has no other than the painter's usual tone. Rubens came to his work with gay, technic exultation, and by the magic of his pencil changed the horrors of Golgotha to an enchanted garden and clusters of flowers. Rembrandt, though on a smaller scale of size and composition, concentrated the tremendous moment in one flash of pallid light. It breaks on the body of Christ, shivers down his limbs, and vanishes on the armour of a crucifix—the rest is gloom."

This is given with all the eloquence Fuseli was so well able to utter; but it displays, also, a severe castigation on those who would class Tintoret and Paul Veronese in the catalogue of ornamental painters. The observations which seem to have kindled his wrath are to be found in Sir Joshua's fourth lecture, in which he says—"Tintoret, Paul Veronese, and others of the Venetian school, seem to have painted with no other purpose than to be admired for their skill and experience in the mechanism of painting, and to make a parade of that art which, as I before observed, the higher style requires its followers to conceal." But, to understand the matter, the whole lecture must be read. With regard to the two pictures Fuseli brings into comparison with the Venetian, both are described in Reynolds' Tour to Flanders and Holland. Sir Joshua certainly criticizes the Rubens correctly with regard to colouring; but sentiment it has none. The Rembrandt is now in the Munich Gallery, and though one of his early pictures, it is very grand and striking. Of it Reynolds remarks—"There are likewise in this room eight Rembrandts, the chief merit of which consists in his peculiarity of manner—of admitting but little light, and giving to that little a wonderful brilliancy. The colouring of Christ in the elevation of the cross cannot be exceeded—it is exactly the tint of Vandyke's 'Susanna,' in the other room; but whether the ground of this picture has been repainted, or the white horse, which was certainly intended to make the mass of light broader, has lost its brightness, at present the Christ makes a disagreeable mass of light."

In bringing the opinions of these two great artists in contact, the truth is elicited, that the tone of colour has much to do in conveying the sentiment and pathos of the picture, and Rembrandt possessed this quality in a very high degree. In the infancy of the arts, when practised by rude nations, we find harsh and bright colours predominate in a very strong scale—in fact, the brighter the more effective on the uneducated eye; and it is only when the arts advance towards perfection that a subdued tone of colour is demanded as most compatible with refinement. Colour, both as an imitative quality, and also as an adjunct towards assisting the character of his subject, seems always to have been uppermost in Rembrandt's mind. His drawing, it is true, is open to censure, but his colour will stand the most searching investigation, and will always appear more transcendent the more it is examined. Reynolds, in his Journey through Holland, mentions a picture by Rembrandt, in the collection of the Prince of Orange—"a study of a Susanna, for the picture by Rembrandt which is in my possession: it is nearly the same action, except that she is here sitting. This is the third study I have seen for this figure—I have one myself, and the third was in the possession of the late Mr. Blackwood. In the drawing which he made for this picture, which I have, she is likewise sitting; in the picture, she is on her legs, but leaning forward. It appears extraordinary that Rembrandt should have taken so much pains, and have made at last so very ugly and ill-favoured a figure; but his attention was principally directed to the colouring and effect, in which it must be acknowledged he has attained the highest degree of excellence." The small picture in the National Gallery is a study of the same figure. Colour was the ruling principle with Rembrandt, the Alpha and Omega, in the same way that Richard Wilson designated the three qualifications for landscape painting, as contained in one—viz., breadth. The tones of colour with which Rembrandt clothed his subjects are always in the highest degree appropriate and conducive to the sentiment, whether within the "solemn temples," or the personification of some great supernatural event. As most of his historical subjects are from Sacred Writ, he never loses sight of those qualities which take them out of the page of every-day occurrences. I shall mention two, though one is sufficient for a master-key to them all. In the picture of "The Adoration of the Magi and Kings," in the Queen's Collection, the solemnity is carried to the utmost extent, like the mysterious leaf of a sybil's book; the only light shed over the scene seems to descend from the lurid rays of the star that stood over the place of the nativity, and guided them to the spot. To acquire the greatest breadth, he has placed the Virgin and child in the corner of the picture, and low down at the base, with the same feeling that impelled Shakspere, in his Constance, to utter, "Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it." The presentation of incense and precious perfumes, of diadems and jewels, by crowned heads and venerable magi, not only removes the attendants to the background, but even Joseph is represented as wrapt in thought, and viewing from the shade the solemnity of the scene. The whole colouring of this work is in accordance with this feeling—subdued, except in the smallest portions of each hue, and these shine out like sparkling of jewels in a dark recess.

The other work I would particularize is, "The Salutation of the Virgin," in the collection of the Marquis of Westminster. This picture, though of small dimensions, yet exemplifies the peculiarity of Rembrandt's mode of treatment. Being less decided in the chiaro-scuro and tone of colour than the Wise Men's Offering, it is more difficult to describe; this also arises from the exquisite weaving in of the hot and cold colours. Having had it under my eye for a couple of months, I can easily recall it on the least effort of the memory; but to bring it before the spectator who has not seen it, and by no other art than the medium of words, is as difficult as it would be to bring an harmonious arrangement of music by a different means—one must be seen and the other heard to render an explanation evident, which even then can only be understood by connoisseurs in painting and music. I must therefore avail myself of technicalities, which may seem out of place, where we are investigating the general hue of the picture. It is divided into hot and cold colours, which are brought in contact in the centre—Elizabeth being clothed in red and yellow, the Virgin in blue, white, and cool grey. The hot colour is carried across by the red sleeve of Elizabeth, and part of her yellow shawl, and descends to the petticoat of a Negress who is removing the grey mantle from the Virgin, and is further extended by a few warm-coloured stones and touches in the pavement. The cool colour is carried past the warm tone of Zacharias and the porch above him by means of a grey green pillar, a peacock, and a few touches of cool colour on a bush at one corner of the warm side of the picture. The general tone of the work is of a low, deep hue, so that even the cool tints are not cold or raw, but a deep-toned brightness pervades the whole. Through the dark grey sky, that seems to descend to overshadow the group, a gleam of light darts upon the scene, as a connecting link between heaven and earth, and giving force and truth to the expression of Elizabeth, when she pronounces the words, "Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb." The light that shoots through the gloom has roused a pea-hen and chicks, who shake off their sleep as if it was the dawn of day.

This is a very imperfect description, but will, nevertheless, serve to show the fine feeling and deep intent of the genius of Rembrandt. To extend this investigation further would be perhaps superfluous, did we not know that, even in our own time, doubts are entertained of the proper introduction of pictorial arrangements of chiaro-scuro and colour; but the grand style, like all other modes of portraying a work, must be made subservient to affecting the feelings of the spectator. I shall only bring two pictures in contrast to elucidate this principle still further—"The Burning of the Books at Ephesus," by Sebastian Bourdon; and "The Martyrdom of St. Lawrence," by Titian. As Bourdon has been considered the French Raffaelle, it is but fair that he should be taken as a follower of that school, devoted to composition and correct drawing, to the absence of all inferior qualities; the consequence is, he has represented the scene in mid-day, where the flames are red without extending their influence to surrounding objects; consequently, they are not luminous, nor conveying the idea of destruction. Titian, on the contrary, has chosen the darkness of night to represent the horrors of the martyrdom—the red burning light of the living coal conveys a tenfold force to the torments of the saint, and the very reality of the colour gives a corresponding truth to the scene, which takes it completely out of the regions of apocrypha, and stamps it with the character of Holy Writ. The descent of the cool light from heaven upon the scorching body of St. Lawrence is like a rush of water to counteract his sufferings, and give him a confidence in his future reward, which the spectator fully enters into. These are the triumphs that appropriate chiaro-scuro and colour achieve for their introduction into historical works.

That we may more clearly perceive the rank which Rembrandt holds as a colourist, I shall endeavour to investigate the peculiar qualities that characterise the several manners of Titian, Rembrandt, and Reynolds—the one living before, the other after our artist, and of course confining the investigation to portraiture alone. I have selected Titian in preference to Vandyke, not that I consider him, in this branch, superior; on the contrary, I agree with Sir Joshua, in mentioning Vandyke as the greatest portrait painter that ever existed, all things considered—but I wish to confine myself exclusively to colour, and in this branch it is evident that these three great artists are more similar in their works than any other painters; but Titian, by the concurrent testimony of his contemporaries and all succeeding judges upon the subject, is the highest authority on the great leading principles of colour. Besides, his works are in many instances uninjured by the rough usage of uneducated men. With regard to the works of Rembrandt, which are in comparison as of yesterday, many of them remain in the same frames and on the same walls on which they were first hung. The works of Reynolds, though of a more recent date, have suffered more, not from the ruthless hand of the picture-cleaner, but from his making use of more perishable materials. Still, from the variety of his vehicles, changed from an anxiety to get a nearer approach to the look and appearance of nature, many of his pictures are sufficiently perfect to build an investigation upon. Previous to the appearance of Giorgione and Titian, this branch of the art differed but little from the treatment the several heads received in historical pictures generally; only with this exception, that when introduced as the component parts of a work where a story had to be told, they were imbued with action and expression; but when treated as simple portraiture, the higher qualities were left out, and a quiet map of the face, to use a familiar expression, was all that was desired to be transferred to the canvas. Neither did the head receive that superiority over every other subordinate part of the work which science and a long line of celebrated examples seem now so imperatively to demand.

In drawing a comparison between the three great portrait painters, it is necessary, in the first instance, to refer to the several characters of their models, or sitters. The nobility of Venice were, at the time of Titian, men of long descent, dignified, and holding high rank in a city at that time the emporium of the merchandize of the East, and distributors of rich manufactures to the whole of civilized Europe; hence that "senatorial dignity" which characterises his works, and the style and richness of costume so necessary to grandeur, and the historical air in his portraits. His sitters also possessed countenance and figure well calculated to engender and support the noblest character of painting. The sitters of Reynolds, notwithstanding the pomatumed pyramids of the female hair, or the stiff, formal curls of the male, which set every attempt to beautify the features at defiance, either by extension of the forms or harmonizing the several parts of the countenance, (serious obstacles to pictorial beauty,) were still in possession of that bland and fascinating look which distinguishes people of high breeding. In contrast with these we have to array the models of Rembrandt's painting-room—fat burgomasters, florid in complexion and common in feature; Jews and attornies; shipbuilders, and hard harsh-featured master mechanics. Independent of the models themselves, there is a congenial feeling created in the artist who associates with and has to represent them; we imperceptibly imbibe the manners of those we are in contact with, either advantageously or injuriously. From these few remarks we may perceive that the dignified attitude, the broad general tone of the countenance, though deep, yet rendered bright and luminous by the jetty blackness of the hair and beard, were all conducive to the creation of the style of Titian—a style that swallows up the varieties of minute tints in a general breadth. So in Reynolds, the absence of everything strong in expression or harsh in colour gave a refinement to the heads of his men, and a beauty to the faces of his females; and to this treatment all his sitters were subjected—so that even those heads, however deficient in the originals, came off his easel ladies and gentlemen. A subdued delicacy of expression and colour removes them from the common look of familiar life. Now, on the contrary, the very character and colour of Rembrandt's heads are pronounced with the strong stamp of flesh and blood—an exact representation of nature in an unsophisticated state. His handling, his manner of leaving the various tints, and the marking of minute parts, all conspire to give his works that appearance of truth unfettered with the attempt to elevate the general character at the expense of individuality.

The peculiarity of Titian's portraits, independent of the high character and simple and dignified attitude of the figure, is a careful and distinct modelling of the features, with the half-shadows, though not dark, yet never slurred over—which in other hands would produce heaviness; but Titian counteracts this by the intense darkness of his dresses and backgrounds, so that the features, often modelled with the firmness of sculpture, are rendered comparatively gentle by the treatment of the other parts of the picture. The portraits of Sir Joshua have this peculiarity, that however loaded and enriched in every part of the work, the head is kept smooth, and often thinly painted. The whole-length of "The Marquis of Granby," and "The Portrait of Mrs. Siddons," two of his finest pictures, are examples of this mode of treating the head. This has given rise to an anecdote, that Mrs. Siddons, looking at the picture when unfinished, begged Sir Joshua not to touch the head any more—and having promised her, he refrained, notwithstanding the richness and depth of the fearless glazings would seem to demand a corresponding force in the head. The truth is, that Reynolds seems always to have depended upon the small dark shadows to give solidity to his heads, without clogging them with colour or dark half-tints. The importance of thus refining upon the head may be perceived in the portrait of himself, painted con amore, and presented to the Dilettante Society, of which he was a member. The features, and, indeed, the whole head, depend upon the extreme darks; the judicious arrangement of these shadows not only gives a pictorial dignity to the work, from the stamp of science, but also, where the features in nature are either blunt or mean in themselves, draws off the attention of the spectator to higher qualities. Shadows are never mean, but are the stamps of truth rendered beautiful by taste and feeling. Independent of the advantage of dark touches giving delicacy to the features that produce them, there is a motion and life given by the vivacity and freedom of the handling, which cannot with safety be taken with the features themselves. This quality seems very early to have been Sir Joshua's greatest anxiety to acquire. In a remark respecting the pictures of a rival, John Stephen Liotard, whose only merit was a strong likeness, with great neatness of finish, Reynolds says—"The high-finished manner of painting would be chosen if it were possible with it to have that spirit and expression which infallibly fly off when the artist labours; but there are transient beauties which last less than a moment, and must be painted in as little time; besides, in poring long the imagination is fatigued, and loses its vigour. You will find nature in the first manner—but it will be nature stupid, and without action. The portraits of Holbein are of this high-finished manner; and for colouring and similitude what was ever beyond them? But then you see fixed countenances, and all the features seem to remain immoveable."

Northcote observes, "Of mere likeness in portraiture Reynolds thought very little, and used to say that he could instruct any boy that chance might throw in his way to paint a likeness in a portrait in half a year's time; but to give an impressive and a just expression and character to a picture, or paint it like Velasquez, was another thing. What we are all," he said, "attempting to do with great labour, he does at once."

Barry, speaking of Reynolds as a portrait painter, mentions the wretched state the art was in before his time, and how elevated it became from the manner Sir Joshua treated it. In continuation, he says—"In many of Titian's portraits the head and hands are mere staring, lightish spots, unconnected with either the drapery or background, which are sometimes too dark, and mere obscure nothings; and in Lely, and even in Vandyke, we sometimes meet with the other extreme of too little solidity, too much flickering and washiness. Sir Joshua's object appears to have been to obtain the vigour and solidity of the one, with the bustle and spirit of the other, without the excess of either; and in by far the greatest number of his portraits he has admirably succeeded. His portrait of Mrs. Siddons is, both for the ideal and the executive, the finest portrait of the kind perhaps in the world; indeed, it is something more than a portrait, and may serve to give an excellent idea of what an enthusiastic mind is apt to conceive of those pictures of confined history for which Apelles was so celebrated by the ancient writers. But this picture of 'Mrs. Siddons, or the Tragic Muse,' was painted not long since, when much of his attention had been turned to history; and it is highly probable that the picture of Lord Heathfield, the glorious defender of Gibraltar, would have been of equal importance, had it been a whole length; but even as it is—only a bust—there is great animation and spirit, happily adapted to the indications of the tremendous scene around him; and to the admirable circumstance of the key of the fortress, firmly grasped in his hand, than which imagination cannot conceive anything more ingenious and heroically characteristic. It is, perhaps, owing to the Academy, and to his situation in it, to the discourses which he biennially made to the pupils upon the great principles of historical art, and the generous ardour of his own mind to realize what he advised, that we are indebted for a few expansive efforts of colouring and chiaro-scuro which would do honour to the first names in the records of art." And speaking of the large historical work he painted for the Empress of Russia, he adds—"Nothing can exceed the brilliancy of light—the force and vigorous effect of his picture of 'The Infant Hercules strangling the Serpent;' it possesses all that we look for and are accustomed to admire in the works of Rembrandt, united to beautiful forms and an elevation of mind to which Rembrandt had no pretensions. The prophetical agitation of Tiresias and Juno, enveloped in clouds, hanging over the scene like a black pestilence, can never be too much admired, and are, indeed, truly sublime."

After such commendations, and from so high an authority, we might feel a diffidence in bringing forward the great founder of the Dutch school in competition with such artists as Titian and Reynolds, did we not know that the qualities of the chiaro-scuro and colour of Reynolds are founded on the deep tones of Rembrandt, who, as a colourist, takes his proper place between the two heads of the Venetian and English schools. How far Rembrandt was indebted for his principles of colour to the works of Titian, it is impossible to say; but many of his pictures bear a greater affinity to the last style of this great colourist than to any other painter. We perceive by the catalogue of his effects, that folios containing drawings by Titian, also prints after him, were in his possession. The luminous, rich tones of his flesh are more like Titian than Rubens or Vandyke, whose works he must have been familiar with; and while his backgrounds are less black and inky than those in the portraits of Titian and Tintoret, they are also more broken, both in colour and execution, which prevents heaviness. His handling—which conveys from its dexterity and touch so lifelike an appearance—is not unlike that of Frank Hals, of whom Reynolds speaks so highly:—"In the works of Frank Hals, the portrait painter may observe the composition of a face, the features well put together, as the painters express it, from whence proceeds that strong, marked character of individual nature, which is so remarkable in his portraits, and is not found in an equal degree in any other painter. If he had joined to this most difficult part of the art a patience in finishing what he so correctly planned, he might justly have claimed the place which Vandyke, all things considered, so justly holds, as the first of portrait painters." There is, however, this difference in their works—independent of the flesh of Rembrandt's being much richer in tone, it is produced by glazing and fresh touches of transparent colour, whereas the tints of Hals seem to have been mixed in the first instance on his palette; hence that undisturbed dexterity of handling which gives so much the appearance of life in his best works. The distinctive characteristics between a portrait painter and a historical painter, is "that the one paints man in general, the other a particular man;" hence, to ennoble the work, it is necessary to make it conform, as much as can be done with safety to the likeness, to the great principles that guide the highest branches of the art—that is, by softening down those features that overstep the boundary of general nature, and assisting those parts that fall short, or are defective. Therefore, when Lawrence painted Mrs. Siddons, the Duke of Wellington, or Lord Brougham, he chose a front view of the face, that their peculiarities might not be too apparent. Now Sir Joshua carried these generalizing principles to so great an extent at times that his sitters did not recognise the striking likeness that some people look for as paramount to all other considerations, which made his pupil, Northcote, remark that there was a class of sitters who would not be content "unless the house-dog barked at it as a sign of recognition." Rembrandt, on the contrary, did not generalize enough; therefore, many portraits were left on his hands, as it is said they were left on Reynolds's. But see the result, those very pictures from the easel of both painters bring higher prices than the more favoured of their likenesses, from being intrinsically fine works of art. The number of portraits Rembrandt painted of himself is a proof of the little encouragement he received in painting the portraits of others. From Sir Joshua's hand we have but two or three, while from Rembrandt's we have nearly fifty. Yet, with all the deficiencies in the art of making up a beautiful face, Rembrandt frequently produced portraits of great feminine beauty: witness "The Lady with the Fan," in the collection of the Marquis of Westminster, and "The Lady," in the Royal Collection. Had he got the same models of female beauty that Titian and Reynolds had, he would, in all probability, have transferred them to the canvas with the same truth and intenseness of feeling that guided his pencil in other matters. Rembrandt's style was that which would have suited Oliver Cromwell, who, when he sat for his portrait, made it a sine qua non that the painter should leave out neither warts nor wrinkles. The same truth and verisimilitude that regulated his forms, guided his eye with respect to colour. In his earlier pictures, such as "The Ship Builder," in the Royal Collection, there is a greater degree of hardness and solidity of pigment than in his later works, which possess more the suppleness of flesh. This is also to be observed in the later works of Titian, Velasquez, and Reynolds, and in the later works of our Scottish Velasquez—Raeburn. The portraits of Gainsborough possess this in a high degree. What has been said with regard to Rembrandt laying on his colours with the palette-knife, is very much exaggerated. Many of his heads are as smooth as Reynolds's, and finished with great delicacy and precision; in fact, the versatility of his genius, and the wonderful command over his materials, from indefatigable practice, have given both his pictures and prints that character of having been done in the best style suited to accomplish his object. I have mentioned that Titian keeps his backgrounds often dark, for the purpose of giving a delicacy to his strong shadows in the face; both Vandyke and Rembrandt do this by making the colour of the background amalgamate with the colour of the hair, or dark shades of the head. Rubens, Reynolds, and Lawrence often used a red curtain in contact with their flesh, to produce the same result. The luminous character of the head is certainly better preserved by its giving out rays or similarity of tone to the surrounding background. It has been remarked that the luminous and transparent character of the flesh is enhanced, as in several of Vandyke's portraits, by bringing it in contact with an earthy, dull tint. Vandyke, indeed, when his ground would not permit him, introduced over the shoulders of his females a scarf of this colour. Rembrandt often plunges from the dark shadows of his head into his ground, and thus gives both a breadth and unity. This practice, where the shadows of the face are produced by the same colour as the contiguous background, is certainly the foundation of simplicity.

I think the money value of Rembrandt's portraits may be taken as a criterion of their intrinsic worth as works of art; other masters' decline in producing high prices, Rembrandt's increase—witness the portrait sold the other day at the Duke of Buckingham's, at Stowe;—though the half-length of a burgomaster whom few people ever heard of, it realized seven hundred guineas and upwards. No nameless portrait by Reynolds, under the same disadvantages, would produce an equivalent sum. Sir Joshua's portraits are either branches of our aristocracy, or celebrated public characters. As a knowledge of art advances, works fall naturally into their proper stations. When Reynolds's sister asked Sir Joshua the reason that we never see any of the portraits by Jervas now, he replied, "Because, my dear, they are all up in the garret." Yet this man drove his chariot and four, and received the praises of Pope in verse. Sir Godfrey Kneller would sometimes receive a sum of money and a couple of portraits by Vandyke as payment; but now, a single portrait of the great founder of the Dutch school would outweigh in true value a large number of Kneller's collected talent: yet Rembrandt died insolvent, and Sir Godfrey accumulated a large fortune. And such will be the fate of those who paint for posterity, "and look beyond the ignorant present." The true statement of this change, which of necessity takes place, is, that the man of genius paints according to the high impulse that has been given him, as paramount to every other consideration; the other panders to the caprice and ignorance of those who employ him. This it was that made Reynolds's master, Hudson, exclaim, after Sir Joshua's return from Italy, "Why, Joshua, you don't paint so well as you did before you went abroad!" When men of genius and high talent fall upon favourable times, the result is the reverse, and the fine arts are esteemed, and their professors rewarded according to their excellence. The age in which Titian lived was famous for literary men, who had made the republic of Venice known and honoured through the whole of Italy. The praises of Michael Angelo bestowed on the works of the great Venetian, had adorned the name of Titian with a halo of supernatural brightness; so much so, that whilst painting the portrait of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, happening to drop one of his pencils, Charles stooped and picked it up, observing, "that a genius like Titian deserved to be waited on by emperors." Of Reynolds we know that all the beauty and talent of the land flocked to his painting-room, conscious of being handed down to posterity with all the advantages that pictorial science could achieve. The grace of Coreggio was grafted by this great master on the strong stem of Rembrandt's colouring. In opposition to those advantages, we have to remark that the people with whom Rembrandt came in contact were not only of an inferior character, when measured by the standard of grace and dignity, but the troubles of the times militated in a high degree against that encouragement so necessary to the perfection of the art. In spite of these inauspicious circumstances, the genius of Rembrandt has produced works fraught with the highest principles of colour and pictorial effect, and to his want of encouragement in the department of mere common portraiture, we are indebted for many of the most pictorial and splendid specimens of strong individual character in familiar life.

Of all the works by Rembrandt, perhaps no picture has attracted so much attention and observation as his "Night Watch," now in the Museum of Amsterdam. As its dimensions are thirteen feet by fourteen, it secures attention by its size; its effect, also, is striking in a high degree, though Reynolds, in his "Tour to Holland and Flanders," says it disappointed him, having heard so much respecting it. He remarks that it had more of the appearance of Ferdinand Bol, from a prevalence of a yellow, sickly colour. On the other hand, Wilkie says, "Had it been a subject such as 'The Christ before Pilate,' which he has etched, it would have been his finest and grandest work." Though painted in 1642, it possesses all the force and high principles of colour to be found in his later works. Nothing can exceed the firmness and truth of the two figures advancing to the spectator—especially the officer in the light dress—it is modelled with all the force of nature, and the background figures being steeped in the deepest hues of subdued colour, give a strength and richness which nothing can surpass. Of course, there is a want of interest in the story, which is merely an assemblage of the Militia of Amsterdam, on occasion of the expected visit of the Prince of Orange and the daughter of Charles the First, whom he had espoused. The principal pictures by other great masters receive a greater notoriety from the interest of the subject—such as "The Transfiguration," by Raffaelle; "The Peter Martyr," by Titian; "The Miracle of St. Mark," by Tintoret; "The Martyrdom of St. George," by Paul Veronese; and "The St. Jerome," by Coreggio. Nevertheless, "The Night Watch," by Rembrandt, may safely be classed with the choicest productions of the great painters of Italy and Venice. When we consider that his pictures extend to upwards of six hundred and fifty, the reader will appreciate the difficulty I have felt in describing the peculiar merit which has so indelibly stamped most of them with the passport to posterity.



LANDSCAPES.

The landscapes by Rembrandt, unhappily few in number, possess the strong mark of truth for which his works are so strikingly fascinating. They are chiefly small, the largest not exceeding three feet. One of his best is in the collection of the Marquis of Lansdowne, representing a mill seen under the influence of an uncertain twilight; the warm light of the western sky sheds its lustre on the sails of the mill, which stands on high ground; but the other portions of the picture are of dark half-tint, except a reflection of the light on the water towards the foreground. It was exhibited in the British Gallery, in 1815, and attracted great attention. Another picture peculiar to the genius of Rembrandt is in the collection of Sir Richard Colt Hoare, Bart.; it represents a night scene on the skirts of a wood, with a group of figures seated round a fire, the red gleam of which is reflected in a stream that flows along the foreground. A few cattle are partially seen in the obscure portions of the picture, with a peasant passing with a lantern. Other smaller works are in the collections of Sir Robert Peel, Samuel Rogers, Esq., Sir Abraham Hume, and the Marquis of Hertford. His largest picture of this class was formerly in the Louvre, and is now in the public gallery at Hesse-Cassel. In the landscapes of Rembrandt we meet with the same breadth, and hues of a deep tone, without being black or heavy; they are also painted with a full pencil, and rich juicy vehicle. Rembrandt, like Titian, Rubens, and others who were historical painters, seizes upon the great characteristics of nature without entering into the painful fidelity of topographical littleness; the same generalizing principles pervade every variety of subject. Fuseli, speaking of portrait painting as mere likenesses, adds—"To portrait painting thus circumstanced, we subjoin, as the last branch of uninteresting subjects, that kind of landscape which is entirely occupied with the tame delineation of a given spot—an enumeration of hill and dale, clumps of trees, shrubs, water, meadows, cottages, and houses—what is commonly called views. These, if not assisted by nature, dictated by taste, or chosen for character, may delight the owner of the acres they enclose, the inhabitants of the spot, perhaps the antiquary or the traveller, but to any other eye, they are little more than topography. The landscape of Titian, of Mola, of Salvator, of the Poussins, Claude, Rubens, Elsheimer, Rembrandt, and Wilson, spurns all relation with this kind of map-work. To them nature disclosed her bosom in the varied light of rising, meridian, and setting suns—in twilight, night, and dawn."



DRAWINGS BY REMBRANDT.

In looking over the numerous portfolios of drawings in public and private libraries, we are struck with the accumulated mass of mediocre talent. Many of them are often well composed, and even well drawn, but they are completely destitute of what constitutes true merit—they possess no distinguishing mark whereby we can discern one master from another; they are struck off with wonderful dexterity, as far as the eye or hand is concerned, but the mind is totally wanting; neither do they possess the peculiar features of natural truth, whose lines are filled with variety, sometimes sharp, sometimes round—in parts faint and delicate, and in other places strong and cutting. On the other hand, when the drawings of great painters are examined, the master mind shines forth in every touch, and we recognise the works of Michael Angelo, Raffaelle, Coreggio, and others, at a glance. The drawings of Rembrandt possess this quality in a superlative degree, and the slightest indication seems sufficient to mark the character and leading features of the object represented. His drawings are generally in pen outline, with a wash of bistre, or other warm colour; sometimes he makes use of black and red chalk; they are seldom finished with colours, but have often portions rendered lighter and broader by means of a wash of white. From his great practice in using the point in etching, he not only gives the greatest precision and certainty, but his outline assumes the gentlest delicacy or overpowering boldness. Everything from his hand seems to possess a largeness of form, and the greatest breadth of light and shade that can be given; this it is that gives them the stamp of truth, so that it is difficult to distinguish between those drawn immediately from nature, and such as are emanations from his imagination. On looking into the catalogue of his effects, we perceive large folios of his drawings, which, though at the sale they produced but small sums, are now marked with their true value. I may notice here a small drawing of "The Death of the Virgin," that brought, at the sale of the late Baron Verstolk, one hundred and sixty guineas. One cannot but regret that the excellent collection of the drawings by Rembrandt and other masters, selected by the late Sir Thomas Lawrence, with great taste and at large sums, should have been lost to the country, though offered in his will at comparatively a small price. Nevertheless, we possess several fine specimens in the British Museum Print-room.



THE ETCHINGS OF REMBRANDT.

No painter has gained so much celebrity by his etchings as Rembrandt, both on account of their number and excellence. Claude, Parmegiano, Berghem, Paul Potter, Adrian Ostade, and others, have all been dextrous in using the etching point. Rembrandt's performances have all the interest and beauty of finished works; his making use of the dry point, which was unknown before his application of it, gives his etchings that richness and softness peculiar to himself, for the process in the hands of others has never since been attended with the same triumphant success. The etchings consist of three hundred and sixty-five plates, accompanied by two hundred and thirty-seven variations. I can only here give their titles and dates: the amateur is referred to the descriptive catalogues of Gersaint, Daulby, Bartsch, Claussin, and Wilson. The catalogue by the latter gentleman is the one adopted by the British Museum; I have, however, numbered them according to the Catalogue Raisonne of Rembrandt's Works by Smith, who made use of the arrangement of the Chevalier Claussin. I have also marked those that are of the greatest excellence with a star before the number.



Portraits of the Artist.

1. Portrait of Rembrandt when a young man, having frizzly hair.

2. Portrait of Rembrandt with moustaches, and wearing a bonnet put sideways on his head.

3. Portrait of Rembrandt, represented with a falcon on his right hand.

4. Portrait of Rembrandt, with frizzly hair, and the head uncovered; remarkable for thick lips and a large nose. Very rare.

5. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in nearly a front view, with frizzled hair, and the head uncovered.

6. Portrait of Rembrandt when a young man, wearing a fur cap and a black habit.

7. Portrait of Rembrandt when young, seen in a front view, wearing a slouched hat, and a mantle lined with fur. Dated 1631.

8. Portrait resembling Rembrandt, seen in nearly a front view, with moustaches, short curling beard, and frizzled hair.

9. Portrait of Rembrandt when young, seen in a three-quarter view, with the head uncovered and the hair frizzled.

10. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in a front view, having an expression of grimace.

11. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in nearly a front view, with a flat bonnet on the head.

12. Portrait of Rembrandt when young, seen in a three-quarter view, with head uncovered, and the hair frizzled. (Oval.)

13. Portrait of Rembrandt when young, with the mouth a little open, the head uncovered, and the hair frizzled. Dated 1630.

14. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in a front view, having a fur cap, and a mantle bordered with fur. Dated 1631.

15. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in a three-quarter view, with the head uncovered, and the hair frizzled; he has on a mantle buttoned in front. Dated 1631.

16. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in a front view, wearing a fur cap of a round form, and a mantle. Dated 1631.

17. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in nearly a front view, having on a bonnet of the usual shape, placed sideways on his head, and a kind of scarf round his neck. Dated 1633.

18. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in a front view, having on a richly-ornamented cap or turban, and an embroidered robe. He holds a drawn sabre in his hand. Dated 1634.

19. Portraits of Rembrandt and his Wife, on one plate. Dated 1636.

20. Portrait of Rembrandt. He has on a mezetin cap, decked with a feather, and a rich mantle. Dated 1638.

*21. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in a three-quarter view; he has long curling hair and moustaches; a cap of the usual shape covers the head, and a rich mantle the body. The left arm leans on some stone work. Dated 1639.

*22. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in a front view, wearing a narrow-brimmed hat, and a plain habit open in front; he is seated at a table, holding a crayon in his hand. Dated 1648.

23. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in a three-quarter view, with long curling hair; he has on a cap with a small feather in front of it, attached by a ribbon; his mantle is fastened in front by a clasp. Dated 1634. (Oval) (This is the cut plate of the celebrated sabre print.)

24. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in nearly a front view, having on a fur cap, which covers his forehead to the eyebrows; his curling hair falls on his shoulders, and his robe is bordered with fur. Dated 1630.

25. Portrait of Rembrandt, with the left side of the face strongly shadowed; his frizzled hair falls on the shoulders, and his habit is a little open in front, and lined with fur. Dated 1631.

26. Portrait strongly resembling Rembrandt, seen in a front view, having short frizzled hair, and the mouth a little compressed; he has on a cap, and wears a mantle attached by a little ribbon.

27. Portrait of Rembrandt, closely resembling No. 1. The face is seen in a front view, and the body in a three-quarter position; the hair is frizzled, and a toupee is on the left side; the eyes and forehead are in shadow.

28. Portrait of Rembrandt, seen in a three-quarter view, with a small beard and mustacheos; a cap of the usual shape covers his frizzled hair, and the dress is composed of a mantle bordered with fur. This is placed by Bartsch and Gersaint among the fancy portraits.

29. Portrait resembling Rembrandt when young, seen in a front view, with round face, large nose, the mouth a little open, short frizzled hair, and a cap on the head; his mantle is attached by four buttons in front. Dated 1630.

30. Portrait of Rembrandt (styled by some writers, "Titus, the Son of the Artist.") It represents a young man, with ragged frizzled hair falling on the shoulders. He is dressed in a habit with a collar. Dated 1639.

31. Portrait of Rembrandt, or very like him, when a young man; he has frizzled hair, and wears a fur cap. (Octagon.) This is inserted by other writers among the fancy heads.

32. Portrait closely resembling Rembrandt, seen in a front view, with a cap on; the attitude is that of a person drawing. Engraved very lightly, and almost without shadow, on a narrow plate.

33. Portrait closely resembling Rembrandt, seen in a front view, having on a cap of the usual shape, the top of which is cut off by the edge of the plate. Dated 1630. These figures are ill formed.

Subjects from the Old Testament.

34. Adam and Eve in Paradise; the latter has the forbidden fruit in her hand, which she has received from the tempter, who is seen in the form of a serpent in a tree, with an apple in his mouth. Dated 1638.

*35. Abraham entertaining the three angels at the door of his house. Dated 1656.

36. Abraham offering up his Son. Dated 1655.

37. Abraham sending away Hagar and Ishmael. Dated 1637.

38. Abraham caressing his son Isaac.

39. Abraham with his son Isaac. The subject represents the moment when the son asks his father, "Where is the sacrifice?" Dated 1645.

40. Four Subjects to illustrate a Spanish Book. These were originally engraved on one plate, which was afterwards cut into four. They represent as follows:—

Jacob's Dream on the plain of Padan Aran. Four angels are ascending and descending the ladder. Dated 1655.

David preparing his Sling to attack Goliath. Dated 1655.

The Image seen by Nebuchadnezzar in his Dream. Dated 1655.

The vision of Ezekiel. Dated 1655.

41. Joseph relating his Dream to his Parents, in the presence of his Brethren. Dated 1638.

42. Jacob lamenting the supposed Death of his Son Joseph.

43. Joseph and Potiphar's Wife. Dated 1634.

*44. The Triumph of Mordecai.

45. David on his knees in prayer. Dated 1652.

46. Blind Tobit leaning on a Staff, followed by his Dog. Dated 1651.

47. The Angel departing from Tobit and his Family. Dated 1641.

New Testament Subjects.

*48. The Angel appearing to the Shepherds, and announcing the Birth of the Saviour. Dated 1634.

49. The Nativity of the Saviour.

*50. The Adoration of the Shepherds.

51. The Circumcision. Dated 1654.

52. The Circumcision, differently composed.

53. The Presentation in the Temple.

54. The Presentation in the Temple, differently composed.

55. The Presentation in the Temple, differing from the preceding. Dated 1630.

56. The Flight into Egypt. Dated 1633.

57. The Flight into Egypt, differently composed. No date.

58. The Flight into Egypt, differing from the preceding.

59. The Flight into Egypt, differing from the preceding. Dated 1651.

60. The Flight into Egypt, differing from the preceding.

61. A Reposo of the Holy Family by night.

62. A Reposo of the Holy Family. Dated 1645.

63. A Reposo of the Holy Family, supposed to be unique.

*64. The Return from Jerusalem of the Holy Family. Dated 1654.

65. The Virgin, with the Infant Jesus in the Clouds. Dated 1641.

66. The Holy Family.

67. The Holy Family, differently composed. Dated 1654.

68. Jesus amidst the Doctors. Dated 1654.

69. Jesus disputing with the Doctors. Dated 1652.

70. Jesus amidst the Doctors, differently composed. Dated 1636.

*71. Christ preaching to the People.

72. The Tribute Money.

73. Christ driving the Money Changers out of the Temple. Dated 1635.

74. Christ with the Woman of Samaria. The third proof is dated 1658.

75. Christ with the Woman of Samaria, differently composed. Dated 1634.

*76. The Resurrection of Lazarus; styled the Little. Dated 1642.

77. The Resurrection of Lazarus; styled the Great. No date.

*78. Christ Healing the Sick. This beautiful print is known under the appellation of "The Hundred Guilder Print." No date.

*79. Christ in the Garden of Olives. Dated 165. The last figure is wanting.

80. Christ before the People. Dated 1655.

81. Christ on the Cross between the two Thieves, styled "The Three Crosses." Dated 1653.

*82. The Ecce Homo. Dated 1636.

*83. The Descent from the Cross. Dated 1633.

84. Christ on the Cross between the two Thieves.

85. Christ on the Cross.

86. The Descent from the Cross. Dated 1642.

*87. The Descent from the Cross; a night piece. Dated 1654.

*88. The Entombment.

89. The Virgin lamenting the Death of the Saviour.

90. Christ in the Tomb.

*91. Christ at the Table with the two Disciples of Emmaus. Dated 1654.

92. Christ at the Table with the two Disciples of Emmaus. Dated 1634.

93. Christ in the midst of his Disciples, and the incredulity of St. Thomas. Dated 1650.

94. The Good Samaritan. Dated 1633.

95. The Return of the Prodigal Son. Dated 1636.

96. The Decollation of St. John. Dated 1640.

97. Peter and John at the Beautiful Gate of the Temple. Dated 1659.

98. Peter and John at the Gate of the Temple, differently composed.

99. St. Peter on his Knees, with a Key in either hand. Dated 1645.

100. The Martyrdom of St. Stephen. Dated 1635.

101. The Baptism of the Eunuch. Dated 1641.

*102. The Death of the Virgin. Dated 1639.

Saints.

103. St. Jerome seated at the foot of a tree. Dated 1634.

104. St. Jerome at his devotions. Dated 1632.

105. St. Jerome at his devotions, with a lion behind him. Dated 1634, or 1635.

106. St. Jerome seated, with spectacles on, writing. Dated 1648.

107. St. Jerome seated, reading in a large book held with both hands.

108. St. Jerome seated at a table in a room. Dated 1642.

109. St. Jerome on his knees, meditating before a skull.

110. St. Francis on his knees at his devotions, with a crucifix and a book before him. Dated 1657.

Historical, Allegorical and Fancy Subjects.

111. A Youth surprised by the Apparition of Death. Dated 1639.

112. An Allegorical subject, allusive to the demolition of a statue offensive to the Low Countries. Dated 1659.

113. Fortune Reversed, an allegorical subject, allusive to some hero upon whom Fortune has turned her back. Dated 1633.

*114. The Marriage of Jason and Creusa. Dated 1648.

115. The Star of the Kings, an ancient Dutch custom on the feast of the kings.

116. A Lion Hunt; several huntsmen on horseback attacking a lion. Dated 1641.

117. A Lion Hunt, differently composed to the preceding.

118. A Lion Hunt, also differing from the above.

119. A Battle. The subject represents a group of horsemen advancing, full speed, with swords, javelins, &c.

120. Three Figures in Oriental dresses, accompanied by a dog. Dated 1641.

121. The Blind Bagpiper amusing some cottagers.

122. The Spanish Gipsy.

123. The Rat Killer. Dated 1632.

124. The Rat Killer, differently composed.

125. The Goldsmith.

126. The Pancake Woman. Dated 1635.

127. The Game of Kolf. Dated 1654.

128. The Jews' Synagogue. Dated 1648.

129. The Schoolmaster. Dated 1641.

130. The Mountebank. Dated 1635.

131. The Draughtsman.

132. A Peasant with his Wife and Child.

133. A Jew wearing a high Cap. Dated 1639.

134. The Onion Woman. Dated 1631.

135. The Peasant with his hands behind him. Dated 1631.

136. The Card Players. Dated 1641.

137. The Blind Fiddler. Dated 1631.

138. A Man on Horseback.

139. The Polander, with his hands united.

140. The Polander, with his sword and staff.

141. The Polander, with a cane in his left hand. Dated 1631.

142. An old Man, standing with his back to the spectator.

143. A Peasant Man and a Woman walking together.

144. A Philosopher seated, with a pen in his hand.

145. A Man seated at a table, on which is an open book.

146. An old Man seated, resting his arm on a book.

147. An old Man without a beard. Dated 1631.

148. An old Man with a short beard, leaning on a staff.

149. An old Man with a long beard, in the dress of a Persian. Dated 1631.

150. The Blind Jew, standing with his back to the spectator, leaning on a staff.

151. Two Figures in Venetian Dresses.

152. A Doctor feeling the Pulse of a Patient.

153. The Skater.

*154. The Hog with his Legs tied. Dated 1643.

155. A little Dog lying asleep.

156. A Shell, known under the appellation of "The Damier." Dated 1650.

Beggars.

157. A Beggar seated, with his hands united.

158. A Beggar and his Wife.

159. A Beggar standing, resting both hands on a staff.

160. A Beggar standing, holding a stick in his right hand.

161. A Beggar Man and a Woman, standing in conversation. Dated 1630.

162. A Beggar Man and a Woman by the side of a Bank.

163. A Beggar with a Stick in his right Hand. In the manner of Callot.

164. A Beggar in a slashed Cloak. Dated 1631.

165. A Beggar Woman, with a calebash hanging behind her.

166. A Beggar, wearing a fur cap, and resting both hands on a staff.

167. An old Beggar Woman asking Charity. Dated 1646.

168. Lazarus Klap, or the Dumb Beggar. Dated 1631.

169. A Beggar with a wooden Leg, standing with his hands behind him.

170. A Beggar sitting at the side of a Wall.

171. A Beggar sitting on a Bank. Dated 1630.

172. A Beggar sitting, with his Dog by his side. Dated 1651.

*173. Three Beggars at the Door of a House. Dated 1648.

174. A Beggar with one Hand in the Breast of his Jacket, in a cold day. Dated 1634.

175. A Beggar with his Hands behind him.

176. A Beggar with a wooden Leg, and a stick in his hand.

177. A Peasant with his Hands behind him, and a basket at his feet.

178. A Peasant Woman with a Bottle attached to her Waist.

179. A Beggar. This is merely a sketch.

180. A Beggar Man and a Woman walking side by side.

181. A Beggar wrapped up in his Mantle.

182. A Sick Beggar lying on the ground.

Academical Subjects.

183. The French Bed. Dated 1646.

184. The Friar among the Corn.

185. The Flute Player and the Shepherdess. Dated 1642.

186. An old Man sleeping, and a couple caressing.

187. A pot-bellied Man, with a pack at his back, and a pouch by his side. Dated 1630.

188. A Woman crouching under a Tree. Dated 1631.

189. A Painter drawing after a Model.

190. A naked Man, seated. Dated 1646.

191. Academical Figures of Men.

192. The Bathers. Dated 1631.

193. A Man sitting naked for a Model. Dated 1646.

194. A Woman sitting before a Dutch Stove.

195. A Woman sitting naked on a Bank.

196. A Woman at the Bath. Dated 1658.

197. A Woman sitting naked with her feet in the water. Dated 1558.

198. Venus in the Bath. She is seated at the foot of a tree, with her feet in the stream.

*199. A Naked Woman sitting on a Bed, with an arrow in her hand. Dated 1661.

200. Antiope, Jupiter, and a Satyr. Dated 1659.

201. A Woman lying asleep on a Couch. A Satyr in the background.

202. A Negress lying on a Couch. Dated 1658.

Landscapes.

203. A Landscape, in which is introduced a cow.

204. A Landscape, distinguished by a large tree growing by the side of a house.

205. A Landscape, with a bridge, styled "Six's Bridge." Dated 1645.

206. A View of Omval, near Amsterdam. Dated 1645.

*207. A View of Amsterdam.



208. A Landscape, with a huntsman on a road, followed by two dogs.

*209. A Landscape, known under the appellation of "The Three Trees." Dated 1643.

*210. A Landscape, distinguished by a man carrying a yoke of pails.

211. A Landscape, with a canal, on the banks of which are two houses embosomed in trees. Washed in bistre, or India ink.

212. A Landscape; the scene is remarkable for a coach passing along a road in the centre of the view.

213. A Landscape, with a terrace, and a road over it in the centre.

*214. A Landscape, with a village situate near the high road. Dated 1650.

215. A View of the village of Randorp, remarkable for an old tower, of a square form. Dated 1650.

216. A Landscape, in the foreground of which may be noticed a man seated, drawing.

217. A Landscape, with a pond, on the bank of which sits a woman with a child in her lap; a shepherd stands behind her. Dated 1644.

218. A View in Holland. Some cottages among trees are seen in the centre, and a canal flows along the front.

219. A Landscape, representing a woody scene, with a vista on the right. Dated 1652.

220. A Landscape, with an old tower rising above the roofs of some houses.

*221. A Landscape distinguished by a road leading to a village, on which is a shepherd with a flock of sheep. Dated 1636.

222. A Landscape, with a cottage and barn. Dated 1641.

223. A Landscape, with a large tree and a cottage on the left, and divided obliquely by a canal. Dated 1641.

224. A Landscape, remarkable for an obelisk standing on the left, and a village stretching along the distance.

225. A Landscape, with three houses on the left, backed by trees, and near these is a woman followed by a dog; on the opposite side is a canal, with a sailing vessel on it.

226. A Landscape, with a cluster of trees at the side of a road; a second road divides the scene in the centre.

227. A Landscape, with a cottage on the left, and in the centre an alley of trees; close to the front is a man with a stick on his shoulder.

228. A Landscape, with a large piece of water. The name and date are inscribed at the foot of the trunk of a tree on the right. Dated 1645.

229. A Landscape, with a cottage near the middle, on either side of which is a tree, and in front an enclosure of paling.

*230. A View, supposed to be that of the house in which the artist was born, and the adjacent windmill. Dated 1641.

231. The Gold-weigher's Field. The scene is remarkable for a mansion placed near the centre, and a wood stretching along the left of it; on the right is seen the steeple of a church rising above some trees. Dated 1651.

232. A Landscape, distinguished by a canal, on which are two swans. Dated 1650.

*233. A Landscape, with a canal, and a boat lying alongside the shore. Dated 1650.

234. A Landscape, with a canal in front, at which a cow is drinking.

235. A View of a Village, remarkable for an old square tower. Dated 1653.

236. A Landscape, with a river on the left, on which is seen the half of a boat.

237. A Landscape, in which may be noticed a little man, and in the distance two windmills and a steeple.

238. A Landscape of an upright form, having a large tree in the middle, and a man and a woman in front.

239. A Landscape, with a farm-house partly concealed by trees, and surrounded by a wood fence.

240. A Landscape, with a river, on which are two sailing boats, and on the left of the print is seen a man seated on a barge, angling.