Chapter 3

Plate 21. The Old Exchange in Amsterdam. After an engraving by Cl. Jz. Visscher.

To complete our survey of Rembrandt’s dwellings in Amsterdam, we must finally follow him on his retirement, when, owing to his bankruptcy, his wonderful collection had been dispersed to the winds under the auctioneer’s hammer, and when he had to leave his large house, the court allowing him to take only two stoves and some partitions in the attic. We have therefore to cross the entire town in its width and repair to its western extension, where he lived about ten years until his death, most of this time in the company of his son Titus, and with his second wife Hendrickje Stoffels, until her death in 1664. On examining the map of the town and comparing the design of the new western quarters around the Rozengracht with the remainder of the town, we observe an incongruity in city planning, which calls for an explanation. The oldest part in the centre faces the harbour and logically follows upwards the course of the Amstel River; the lay-out of the canals in that part is in accordance therewith, because they really are the former moats surrounding the protecting walls incorporated in the town during its various extensions from the fourteenth to the sixteenth century. The following plan of the three canals, Heerengracht, Keizersgracht, and Prinsengracht, the beginning of which on the west side takes place in Rembrandt’s time, coincides with the fan-shaped plan of the town, but the outer quarters, including the Rozengracht, seem in disharmony. The reason must be sought in the circumstance that the exploitation of these districts had to be kept on an economical scale, since the three principal canals mentioned above had been undertaken on so royal a scale. Therefore the existing features were preserved: the many ditches, separating the meadows and gardens formerly occupying this site, were simply widened into canals; and the pathways, running between, were transformed into streets. The peculiar characteristics of this part of the town, due to these conditions of growth, made it into a typical quarter, known as the Jordaan; its population has always been one of modest means, mixing little with the town. So we see that it was very appropriate for the painter’s retirement, after his social downfall in the late fifties.

[Plate 22. The Inn Called “de Keizers Kroon” In The Kalverstraat, Amsterdam]

Plate 22. The Inn Called “de Keizers Kroon” In The Kalverstraat, Amsterdam. Here Rembrandt’s collections were sold by auction, after his bankruptcy, in 1657 and 1058. After an anonymous drawing in the Archives in Amsterdam.

Not only the direction of its canals and streets remind one of the former nature of this quarter, the places of amusement likewise are reminiscent of the times when well-to-do citizens had their gardens and pleasuregrounds amidst the meadows, before the city encroached upon them. There were, for instance, two large gardens with mazes and fountains, formerly the property of Amsterdam burghers, afterwards for many years an attraction for the public. One of them, at the end of the Rozengracht, was owned and managed by Lingelbach, the father of Johan the painter. An inscription in the burial-book of the Westerkerk, saying that Rembrandt’s corpse came on the 8th of October, 1669, “from the Rozengracht opposite the Labyrinth,” painfully reminds us how for the last sad years of his life the great painter had lived opposite this popular place of public amusement.

[The House Of Mr. F. Banning Cocq ]

Plate 23. The House Of Mr. F. Banning Cocq (the Captain And Prominent Person In Rembrandt’s “Night-watch”) In Amsterdam After an anonymous drawing in the family archives of Jhr. D. de Graeff at The Hague

II

Having dealt with the town’s appearance, principally from an architectural point of view, in the preceding pages, because architecture is so essential in expressing a people’s character and aspirations, we must now give our attention to another condition instrumental in completing a town’s aspect, namely, the daily life which is animating it. We, fast-living twentieth-century people, are apt to suppose that life some centuries ago was moving steadily but slowly, that people were spared the enervating excitements of our own days and that they consequently had a much more quiet and regular existence. Contemporary documents prove that this opinion is wrong, at least in so far as Amsterdam is concerned. Already in 1618 the Venetian Antonio Donato wrote of Amsterdam that the streets and public places were so thronged “that the scene looked like a fair to end in one day”; and did not Descartes write in 1631, when he resided in Amsterdam, that nobody noticed him because he was the only non-tradesman in Amsterdam amidst a trading population, attentive to its profits. This reveals the bustling of the great commercial centre. The facts have nothing astonishing in them if we realise that Holland’s commercial ships numbered half of the world’s trading-fleet and that Amsterdam harboured most of them.(3) No wonder that, in such a town, life was intense and that its strong pulsation was felt everywhere: in crowded streets and quays, in numerous offices and warehouses, on the large exchange, around the Public Weighing Houses, in the shops and market-places, etc. The ease and self-contentment with which the Dutch were so often reproached at the time of the French Revolution, were then unknown; on the contrary all was enterprise, action, and movement. A salutary freshness of spirit was favoured by the variety of people crowding in this centre: the hospitality shown to people of various religions, from the busy Jews, to the refugees of Antwerp and Flanders, created a rivalry of interests, benefiting trade in general.

To this animation caused by commerce we must add the life brought into the town’s thoroughfares by the people’s domestic and social existence, which was in those days much more out-of-doors than it is now, just as there was also a much less marked separation between the various classes: housewives going to the markets, children playing in the streets, families reposing in or before their open street-doors, people of the lower classes seeking in the street what their narrow and close dwellings could not give them, travellers being seen off at the harbourside or on the canal-quays, costermongers praising their wares. There was, for example, the daily fishmarket behind the Dam, Amsterdam’s central square, of which the poet Brederode has left us such vivid pictures, bringing to our ears all the bargaining, shouting, and quarrelling of former days; there were numerous other markets necessitated, not only by the town’s trade, but by its every-day needs: the weekly market for butter and cheese, which until 1669 enlivened the Dam, where now electric cars circulate and a much less-varied traffic passes by; the apple- and fruit-market on the Singel, opposite the house where Rembrandt’s only son Titus passed the few months of his married life; the flower-market, where the middleclass people found the cheap floral decorations for their often gloomy interiors: the meat-market in the Nes: the Monday’s market, on the Singel, of small furniture and kitchen-utensils: the vegetable- and peat-market on the Prinsengracht, etc. That all good housewives, even those of middle and upper classes, made it a rule to frequent these markets is revealed to us not only by contemporary pictures but also by a passage in one of Huygens’s letters to the Prince of Orange, in which this refined diplomat from The Hague expresses his astonishment at seeing the wife of Admiral de Ruyter go daily to market « le panier au bras. »

[Plate 24. The Star of the Kings. ]

Plate 24. The Star of the Kings. Children before a street door on Epiphany-evening. After the drawing by Rembrandt, in the British Museum, London. Salting Bequest.

All these thousands of people, business-men, workmen, housewives, small traders, went about in comparatively simple dresses, in which the black and discreet colours predominated. Against this sober background, the multi-coloured garments of the numerous strangers from over-seas were set off sharply: those of the Levantines, Persians, Poles, and others, who congregated in this international mart. What was said of the citizens’ dress does not imply that luxurious costumes were unknown in Amsterdam; the younger people of course donned lighter and more elegant clothes, and married ladies at home knew very well how to charm the eyes of their visitors. Gradually, as Amsterdam’s wealth increased, the upper classes became more luxurious, and towards the end of Rembrandt’s life we see a complete change effected: we may say that when the architects preferably imitated the Italian Palladio or the French Mansart, and when the feebler painters followed the degenerating taste of the public,— then the leading classes took to French fashions, and wigs came into use. Rembrandt’s pictures show us sufficiently that he kept aloof from this deplorable but fated change, and we must imagine him moving within the classes which remained loyal to the solid habits of the first period of his life in Amsterdam.

Mingling with this traffic we find the children amusing themselves, venting their love of ridicule and, above all things, fighting, in those parts from which they were later on banished on account of a more regular education, or because of certain districts turning into exclusive shop- or office-quarters. Their playfulness fell again and again into wild excesses, which forced the magistrate to pass prohibitive laws, in order to protect citizens from injury and damage. Add to this the great number of beggars, peasant-people, many of them, impoverished by the wars, bohemians, highwaymen, remnants of army-trains, all flocking to the great centre in the hope of finding assistance, strolling musicians, quacksalvers and mountebanks at market time (_plate 26_), periodic parades of gaily-dressed civic guards. Add to this the fairs, and we shall have completed in our imagination a scene which is of the liveliest, and certainly of a far greater charm and variety than our present more monotonous and regulated existence. Rembrandt’s [Plate 25. Children Refore A Street Door: The One In The Middle With A “Rommelpot”]

Plate 25. Children Refore A Street Door: The One In The Middle With A “Rommelpot”. After the drawing by Rembrandt, in the British Museum, London

etchings and drawings give us numerous little illustrations in this respect, as may be seen from the superb drawing lately added to the British Museum by the Salting bequest, showing children going about with the star (a structure of oiled paper on a stick, lit from behind with a candle) on Epiphany-evening, and singing before the houses, as they also did, some months later, on Shrove Tuesday, accompanying their songs with the rommelpot, a musical instrument well known from Hals’s pictures, and consisting of an earthenware pot, covered with parchment or bladder, through which a stick was moved up and down (plates _24_ and _25_). Rembrandt’s etchings reproducing tramps and street-types, like his rat-killer, are no doubt so familiar to our readers that we need not recall them by means of reproductions.

The tidiness and orderly habits of the Dutch were effective in putting limits to the disorder and dirt which are so often the nuisance of seaports. This was still more obvious in the interiors of the dwelling-houses where the Dutch housewives exerted the supremacy of their cleaning and washing propensity, « cette propriété hollandaise qui commence par étonner et qui finit, quand on demeure dans le pays, par devenir un besoin, une nécessite…une vertu contagieuse, » as Havard says. A similar sense of order was to be noted in the administration of public charities: orphanages, asylums, hospitals, and similar institutions were founded and generously endowed, mostly by private initiative, and were organised in such a careful and sensible way that most of them have lasted, under the same rules, until our days.(4) Ascending [Plate 26. A Quacksalver on a Market-Place. ]

Plate 26. A Quacksalver on a Market-Place. After the drawing by Rembrandt. In the collection of Frederich August II, in Dresden.

to higher levels we again observe, in the town’s democratic magistrates, that orderly spirit and caution which enabled these practical, vigilant authorities to consolidate the town’s importance and to develop it to the highest power in the Netherlands, dreaded by foreign competitors and possessing, so to say, the supremacy of the sea. They were characteristic representatives of the citizens’ nature: cool-headedness and a very strong feeling of independence, rooted in their own and their fathers’ emancipation from Spanish domination, and in their energetic tradesmanship. We here touch a more abstract subject, not less essential in constituting the general disposition of the town, namely, the nature and spirit of its individuals, forming, so to say, the town’s own soul. This is a point that should not be overlooked, as the Dutch character and demeanour are two things often misunderstood, which certainly require some insight and explanation in order to be appreciated.

The modern civilized person who found himself transplanted in Amsterdam 250 years ago, might certainly be displeased with the behaviour of even the better classes. We readily concede that their manners were rather raw and lacking in refinement. Sir William Temple, in his “Observations,” published three years after Rembrandt’s death, calls the Hollanders “clownish and blunt,” and this typifies them in their attitude towards intellectual foreign people. Amongst themselves, even in circles where a taste for art and science was well developed, coarse festivals, excessive meals, and gross humour was often met with, peculiarities, however, which the Dutchman had in common with Anglo-Saxons, Germans, and other Northern races at that time. The sense of independence and self-reliance, then very strongly developed in the Hollanders, hindered the improvement which the experience gained from foreign journeys to France and Italy, of a few patricians, might have brought. There was also the fact of Amsterdam never having been, like The Hague, a princely residence with its trail of ambassadors and nobility, for which reason the Hollanders in Amsterdam remained more themselves, a characteristic even evident in our day. But if their manners formerly lagged somewhat behind, we must not forget that most of their natural sterling qualities were allowed to develop freely. These characteristics do not always strike the foreigner at first sight, hidden as they are by a certain slowness in expression and heaviness in deportment, springing from the Hollander’s habit of deliberation. What frequently is taken for coldness, for insensibility, for haughtiness, appears to be reserve which is put aside only when the Hollander feels very sure of his opinion. To these typical qualities of a trading nation must be added a perseverance of will and a determination to attain, which are often wrongly interpreted as egotism. Any one who has a real friend among Dutchmen will appreciate him as a very staunch one, although it may have taken some time to break the reserve! Openness, good-heartedness, generosity, will then be detected where they were at first not suspected. It may now be understood that the intercourse with Rembrandt was far from easy, because he was a typical Hollander, good-natured, but with an extra amount of impulsiveness and self-esteem, as may be gathered from his biography and from his work. Consequently, if he had numerous acquaintances, his real friends were not many. We find for instance few traces of intimate friendship with other painters, excepting his pupils, although his fellow-artists were very numerous. The landscape-painter Roghman and the rich marine painter-amateur Van de Cappelle, perhaps also Asselÿn, are about the only ones who seem to have been in close relation with the master. Of his pupils the most promising ones, Bol and Flinck, rapidly estranged from their master both socially and artistically,—others like Maes, de Gelder, and Hoogstraten returned to their native town Dordrecht. Only Van den Eeckhout and Philips Koninck appear to have remained on intimate terms with Rembrandt. To his artist-friends we may here add the calligrapher Lieven Coppenol, whose fine etched portraits by Rembrandt the reader will remember, and very likely, too, the celebrated silversmith _Lutma_, a man of a very personal talent.

After what was said of the town’s and its burghers’ outward appearance, we would do well to devote another moment’s attention to what we called the town’s soul and observe more closely the intellectual life of Amsterdam, thus facilitating a more general understanding of the period.

At the time when Rembrandt established himself in Amsterdam, a great improvement had taken place in its religious conditions. Ever since 1578 the town had [Plate 27. Portrait Of Jan Lutma. ]

Plate 27. Portrait Of Jan Lutma. From an impression, in the First State, of Rembrandt’s etching, in the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

been exclusively Protestant, but internal dissensions had succeeded the abolition of the Roman Catholic Church, and in the beginning of the seventeenth century had resulted in intense factional feeling. Towards 1630 this storm had subsided and the magistrates, although themselves clinging to the Reformed Protestant Church, did not further molest other sects, such as the Remonstrants, Lutherans, Mennonites, and Walloons, who were permitted to build their own churches. The Catholics also were again able to fulfill their religious duties on condition that they avoided ostentation. The Jews officiated in their own Synagogues and nowhere enjoyed greater liberty than in Amsterdam.(5) The royal road of religious tolerance, rare in those days, was more and more deliberately taken, and it sounds well to hear how in 1660 Governor Stuyvesant, of New-Amsterdam (New York), receives from his directors in Amsterdam the following admonition to be less rigorous against other sects: “Let everybody remain unmolested as long as he behaves modestly and peacefully, as long as he does damage to nobody and does not oppose the magistrates. This principle of statesmanship and forbearance was always honoured by the government of this city and the consequence was, that the persecuted and the downtrodden from all countries congregated in this haven of refuge. Tread in its footsteps and you will be blessed.” This attitude, taken by the public authorities, greatly promoted general welfare, spiritually as well as materially. We may conclude from Rembrandt’s work how prejudices were then overcome and how freely the leading intellects intermixed: the Calvinistic Reformed Minister Sylvius, the Mennonite Minister Cornelis Anslo, the Jewish doctor Ephraim Bonus, the Rabbi Menasseh-ben-Israel, whom we have mentioned before, were among the master’s intimate friends, or were at least so portrayed by him that we understand from the loving application, manifested in his work, how deeply he appreciated their highly cultured mind and heart.

This freedom of religion went hand in hand with an animated mental evolution and naturally favoured it considerably. At the time of Rembrandt’s settlement in Amsterdam we find proof of this in the foundation, in 1632, of a classical school, the forerunner of the later university, called the “Athenæum illustre,” where the celebrated professors Vossius and Van Baerle (or Barloeus) initiated many youths into the secrets of philosophy, languages, and other sciences. Within the leading classes of Amsterdam’s population, supported by the great merchants, interest in matters of art and science strongly develops, though as we noticed before, in the case of the town-hall architecture, with a marked preference for classicism and all foreign civilization. It seems as though these clever merchants could not understand that their own genial countrymen were sufficiently gifted and quite capable of astonishing the world by their work; this increasing lack of mutual appreciation is not so astonishing, if we take into consideration Holland’s, and especially Amsterdam’s, rapid growth, making all those people (aside from the great artists, who were sufficiently confident in their own powers), feel small and humble in face of the firmly established fame and merits of the classics and the Italians. The large and fertile School of Amsterdam painters, Rembrandt foremost among them, felt this keenly: landscapes of Italy and allegorical and mythological subjects were preferred to the productions of an art intensely national, the sincerity of which failed to impress the Dutch amateurs. Even portraiture, an art where sincerity is so indispensable, felt the effects of the people’s blindness, and in the last years of Rembrandt’s life we see those portrait-painters coming to the fore, who did away with true expression of character and joined the private burghers in their decadent predilection for artificiality in dress and appearance.