 CHAPTER I. American Pioneer Proswriters by Hamilton W. Mabee, Author and Critic. The literatures of the great nations have begun with the childhood of those nations, that is to say, with fairy tales and legends and songs of heroism, with Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, the song of Beowulf, to name a few among many of the great beginnings of writing. In this country, the pioneer writers shared the conditions of the pioneer builders of homes and communities. They were not, however, a people in their intellectual infancy. The country was new, but the people were old. They had all left literature of a high order behind them. Many of them must have been familiar with poetry and prose in English, French and German, to say nothing of the classic literature which the scholars knew. And there were many scholars north and south among the early settlers. The exploration and settlement of the country was a great adventure, which involved not only peril but very hard work. In every colony, people had to begin at the beginning to get roofs over their heads to protect them from the climate, to raise the things they were to eat, to protect themselves from the Indians, to do a thousand things of which people of our day are unconscious because they were done so long ago. The distances between the colonies were great, the means of communication were slow and infrequent, and the colonists knew very little of one another. They were isolated communities, not in any sense a nation. And so the early writing was the expression of the experiences and convictions of small communities. There could not be in national literature until there is a national consciousness. And in the early days of America, there was not even a sectional consciousness. There was only local consciousness. The first book written on the continent was by that flamboyant but very versatile Virginia colonist, Captain John Smith, a brave soldier with a very warm and highly inventive imagination, whose habit of boasting has robbed him of a great deal of credit which really belonged to him. He wrote an account of adventures in Virginia, which may be taken as the beginning of American writing and still has value. There was a long interval during which the writing of the colonists was devoted to theological discussion or to accounts of the New World in which they were living. A large part of the early writings of New England was more or less theological, but none of this writing rose to the rank of literature until Jonathan Edwards appeared in the first half of the 18th century. Jonathan Edwards, the son of a minister who was a lover of learning as well as of religion, like a great many other ministers of his time in New England, who prepared young men for college and gave his daughters the same kind of instruction in the same subjects. Edwards was also the grandson of a minister on his mother's side, and his ancestry, like his descendants, was notable for intellectual vigor. He graduated from Yale College at the age of 13, not an uncommon happening in that day of few entrance requirements, and the qualities of his mind and the direction of his taste are indicated by the fact that he was already making notes on the mind and on natural philosophy. He studied for the ministry, and when he was 24 years old, settled at Northampton, Massachusetts, where he was fortunate enough to marry a woman as remarkable as himself, of whom he wrote a description which has become a classic in the literature of love. Edwards was pursued by a haunting sense of sinfulness, and the depravity of the world often weighed heavily upon him. Mrs. Edwards happily combined a piety equal to that of her husband, with great cheerfulness of disposition. Edwards is an author. A man of his intensity was certain to come into collision with some of the ideas held by his contemporaries and with much of their practice, and Edwards finally antagonized his congregation to such a degree that at the age of 56 he preached his farewell sermon. Several avenues of work were open to him, for he had become a man of wide reputation, but he settled at Stockbridge, Massachusetts, and wrote in the quiet of what was then a wilderness, his famous treatise on the freedom of the will, which is probably the most important American contribution to philosophy. It is his sermons, however, rather than his treatises, which entitle his work to a place in the history of American literature. Between 11 and 1200 of these sermons are preserved in Yale University Library. They are characterized by great vigor of thought, intensity of feeling, and often impressive power of statement. One of them, more famous, though in some respects not so true a piece of literature as others, sinners in the hands of an angry God, created great commotion in its time, and the glow of the fire which possessed the preacher has not yet wholly faded from its pages. Literature of the Revolution As the War of the Revolution approached, the colonists began to have hopes and fears in common, and the war was preceded by a war of words. The grievances of the colonists were stated many times, sometimes with great force of reasoning and clearness, and a literature of discussion and debate which reached the public largely through pamphlets came into existence. Samuel Adams of Massachusetts wrote a staring defense of the rights of the colonists. James Adams, James Otis, and Thomas Jefferson came to the front of this discussion, and their writing took on the dignity of literature. Thomas Paine One of the most vigorous contributors to this discussion was Thomas Paine, an Englishman by birth, whose ability as a writer attracted the attention of Benjamin Franklin then in London, at whose suggestion Paine came to America. He had already made himself somewhat noted as a radical critic of the English government and political system, and within a year of his arrival in this country became editor of the Pennsylvania magazine. His common sense, a pamphlet published in 1776, was a very vigorous argument in favor of severing all ties with the mother country. The argument was put so strongly and at the same time was such simplicity that it made a great impression on all kinds of people. And the Pennsylvania legislature, in recognition of the services he had rendered to the American cause, made him a gift of 500 pounds. This pamphlet was immediately translated into various European languages. His crisis, which was published from time to time during the war, was also of great importance to the Americans, and the first number was read by order of Washington to every regiment in the colonial army. This was in the terrible winter of 1776, and the spirit and courage expressed in these papers did much to relieve the despondency of the time. The Age of Reason, an attack on the Bible, published in 1794, shocked the world, and so be clouded Payne's reputation that his great service to the country has been largely overlooked. Benjamin Franklin. If one wanted to name three men who are in a supreme degree representative of the three leading American types, he would not go far astray if he named Franklin, Emerson, and Lincoln. Several years before the revolution, Hume described Franklin as the first and indeed the first great man of letters in America. And Dr. Johnson, in that most delightful exploitation of ignorance and eloquence, taxation not irony described him as a master of mischief. Franklin was then one of the foremost representatives of the colonists, and one of the most ardent advocates of their claims. For 30 years, Europe knew more about him than any other man in America not accepting Washington. He was a Bostonian by birth, the son of a tallow chandler. He had a casual contact with the Boston Latin School, but his formal education was finished in his 11th year when he began to work as a general utility boy in his father's shop. He was fond of reading and was fortunate enough to possess Bunyan's works, and a little later he was reading Robinson Crusoe and other works by Defoe, who undoubtedly had great influence on his style. His love of books inclined him to the printer's trade, and his self-education went on rapidly. Another piece of good fortune was finding a volume of the spectator. He has given a very interesting account of his use of this classic of sound, clear English prose, and has described its influence on his language and style. Then he read Xenophon's memorabilia, which gave him a clear idea of the Socratic method of discussion. At the age of 15, he was already writing for the colonial press, contributing essays notable for their very sensible moralizing and their practical wisdom. For Franklin was, and still is, the representative of American practical sagacity and common sense. Poor Richard's Almanac. Fame and fortune came to him with the publication of Poor Richard's Almanac, which began in 1732 and was continued for a quarter of a century. These Almanacs went into almost every house in America and served not only as calendars, lists of events, warnings about the weather, with dogarral verses, but furnished proverbs of a very practical character and also margins on which all sorts of notes could be written. Keep thy shop and thy shop will keep thee is a good example of Poor Richard's practical wisdom. His personal experience at home and abroad made Franklin in many ways the most conspicuous American of his time. His industry is shown by the fact that his work fills 107 volumes. In this massive writing, of greatest importance is his autobiography, which told the story of his life from his childhood to his arrival in London in 1757. It is a straight, clear, unpretentious piece of writing and all things considered must be considered one of the most important original contributions to American literature. John Woolman. If John Woolman's work had borne any resemblance to that of Jonathan Edwards, Charles Lamb would never have said of it, learn Woolman's work by heart. It was as far as possible removed from the Danteesque vigor of the Puritan preacher. Woolman was a Quaker born in New Jersey with very few educational opportunities, but of a naturally religious nature and seemed early, though in a perfectly normal way to have thought of the world as the creation of a great and benign God. Like many other naturally serious use of his time as of Bunyan's time, he was sorely beset by a consciousness of sinfulness, which he expressed in terms that today seem morbid in their intensity. He accused himself of offenses of which it is quite certain that he was innocent, but he began very early to understand the gospel of love and to desire above everything else to live in complete harmony with the will of God. He was not satisfied, however, to do this by simply obeying the law of righteousness or acquiescing in a will which he could not oppose. He was eager to make his obedience positive and active. So he became one of the earliest anti-slavery men in the country and one of the most ardent. His genius saved him from feminism, while his simple earnestness and his effective appeal to the higher ideals of his auditors made him a persuasive speaker. He hated slavery, but he never attacked the slaveholder. His nature was one of singular purity and harmony. And as he had no self-consciousness and no ambition and writing was simply a means of expression, his nature got into his style. Although in a literate Quaker, an English critic declared that he writes in a style of the most exquisite purity and grace. His journal, which is considered one of the classics of early American literature, is an unaffected and intimate record of his thoughts, feelings, and experiences. It was begun in his 37th year. It is not in any sense great literature, but it is real literature. And as contrasted with all the colonial writing, save that of Edwards and Franklin, it stands out by reason of the purity of its style and the beauty of its feeling and thought. Charles Brockton Brown. Charles Brockton Brown's stories were published still earlier, and he is often spoken of as the predecessor of Hawthorne. Like Francis Hopkinson, he was a Philadelphian who studied law and made literature his profession. His first novel, Wailand or the Transformation, was a story of ventriloquism, very artificial, but skillful and interesting. This was followed by a much more striking tale, Edgar Huntley, a tale of terror which seemed to predict Poe, and this in turn by three or four other novels. Brown was an industrious man and his activity extended into other fields. He published a number of pamphlets and semi-scientific treatises. His work had little permanent value. It was sentimental and unreal and lacked art, but its morbid psychology and a certain kind of intensity gave it popularity at the time. Washington Irving. American literature in the strictest sense of the word really began in the city of New York with the publication of Washington Irving's Nickerbocker History of New York. New York was then the most cosmopolitan of all cities of the New World, as it was the largest. It was a pleasant town of 25,000 people and it had picturesque traditions, first settled by the Dutch, who had in a way taken possession of the Hudson River. They were followed in turn by the English and still later there was a large influx of French Huguenots. When the revolution broke out, 18 languages were already spoken in the city of New York. It was natural, therefore, that the literature of imagination, of humor and of sentiment should find a soil in the cosmopolitan society of the town. And Irving, who was born in the year in which the British troops embarked for England, who declined to go to college as his brothers had gone, but read law and probably with greater avidity books of general literature and was a lover of nature, had both the temperament and the taste to write gentle satire. He was a born observer and loiterer, a man who saw and felt and meditated. He had the high spirit of youth and when he returned in 1806 from Europe, he was still a young man and there were some other gifted young men in New York to keep him company. They published anonymously, a series of semi-humorous satirical comments on men, women and things, social, dramatic and literate, under the title Salma Gundy and in these papers Irving's humor, sentiment and delightful style were conspicuous. They were followed by the Knickerbocker history of New York in which the audacious young man broadly burlesque the ancestors of some of the foremost people in New York. It was good-natured, but it gave great offense. It was, however, the first book of quality and feeling written by an American. In 1815 Irving went to Europe a second time and did not return until 1832. During that interval he published two books which made a reputation for him on both sides of the Atlantic, Bracebridge Hall and the Sketchbook. These books made the colonists irritated by their long discussion with England more tolerant of the mother country because they recalled places and customs that had been dear to their ancestors or to their own youth. Thackeray called Irving the first ambassador whom the new world of letters sent to the old. James K. Paulding, one of the most prominent members of the little company of young men subsequently known as the Knickerbocker writers who were all friends of Irving, was James K. Paulding whose youth fell in the period of the Revolutionary War. In consequence he received very little education but had great vigor of mind and energy of character. He early became acquainted with Washington Irving and a strong friendship grew up between them. Paulding was one of the contributors to the Salma Gundy papers and began early to write for various periodicals. His diverting history of John Bull and Brother Jonathan passed through many additions and his satirical tendency made him popular at a time when the feeling in this country against Great Britain was very strong. A pamphlet entitled The United States in England which appeared in 1814 secured political preferment for Paulding and he was made secretary to the first board of Navy commissioners. A story published in 1831, The Dutchman's Fireside founded on an earlier description of the manners of the early Dutch settlers was his most successful production passing through six additions in a year and being republished abroad and translated into several languages. Paulding's talent although genuine was not distinctive enough to secure his permanent reputation but he remains a very interesting figure in a group of delightful writers and his early skits, if they may be so called were very keen satirical comments on some offensive British traits and qualities. James Fenimore Cooper. Cooper who was also a New Yorker published The Spy in 1821. Precaution, his first effort in fiction which had already appeared was a study of English society life about which Cooper knew very little and it was a failure. In The Spy, Cooper knew his ground and his people. He had spent much of his boyhood at Cooperstown in central New York near the scene of much of the Indian fighting. He had heard stories of adventure from Indian fighters and trappers. Many of the men who had fought in the American ranks during the War of the Revolution were still living. The Spy was instantly popular because it was the first really American novel written by an American. It dealt with a very interesting character, Harvey Birch and it appealed alike to the men who knew of the war from experience and to those who had been brought up to revere the veterans of the revolution. Europe too was intensely curious about the Indian and the stories that followed, especially those in the leather stocking tales were translated into almost every European tongue and are still read in all parts of the old world. Boys in remote German villages are still playing Cooper's Indians. Cooper was a very uneven writer, careless and indifferent about artistic effects. He was often diffuse and often commonplace and he had not much skill in drawing portraits of men and women, but he could tell a story rapidly and dramatically. He knew how to keep his readers in suspense and he knew nature, both on land and at sea. Jonathan Edwards, monograph number one in the mentor reading course. Jonathan Edwards was one of the most impressive figures of his time. He was a deep thinker, a strong writer, a powerful theologian and a constructive philosopher. He was born on October 5th, 1703 at East, now South Windsor, Connecticut. His father, Timothy Edwards, was a minister of East Windsor and also a tutor. Jonathan, the only son, was the fifth of 11 children. Even as a boy, he was thoughtful and serious minded. It is recorded that he never played the games or got mixed up in the mischief that the usual boy indulges in. When he was only 10 years old, he wrote a tract on the soul. Two years later, he wrote a really remarkable essay on the Flying Spider. He entered Yale and graduated at the head of his class as valedictorian. The next two years, he spent in New Haven studying theology. In February, 1727, he was ordained minister at Northampton, Massachusetts. In the same year, he married Sarah Pierpont, who was an admirable wife and became the mother of his 12 children. In 1733, a great revival in religion began in Northampton. So intense did this become in that winter that the business of the town was threatened. In six months, nearly 300 were admitted to the church. Of course, Edwards was a leading spirit in this revival. The Orthodox leaders of the church had no sympathy with it. At last, a crisis came in Edwards' relations with his congregation, which finally ended in his being driven from the church. Edwards and his family were now thrown upon the world with nothing to live on. After some time, he became pastor of an Indian mission at Stockbridge, Massachusetts. He preached to the Indians through an interpreter and in every way possible defended their interests against the whites who were trying to enrich themselves at the expense of the red men. President Burr of the College of New Jersey, now Princeton University, died in 1757. Five years before, he had married one of Edwards' daughters. Jonathan Edwards was elected to his place and installed in February 1758. There was smallpox in Princeton at this time and the new president was inoculated for it. His feeble constitution could not bear the shock and he died on March 22nd. He was buried in the old cemetery of Princeton. Edwards' impersonal appearance was slender and about six feet tall, with an oval, gentle, almost feminine face which made him look the scholar and the mystic. But he had a violent temper when aroused and was a strict parent. He did not allow his boys out of doors after nine o'clock at night and if any suitor of his daughter remained beyond that hour, he was quietly but forcibly informed that it was time to lock up the house. Jonathan Edwards would not be called an eloquent speaker today, but his sermons were forceful and charged with his personality. These sermons were written in very small handwriting with the lines close together. It was Edwards' invariable habit to read them. He leaned with his left elbow on the cushion of the pulpit and brought the finely written manuscript close to his eyes. He used no gestures but shifted from foot to foot while reading. Benjamin Franklin, monograph number two in the mentor reading course. Probably no American of humble origin ever attained to more enduring fame than many-sided Benjamin Franklin. The secret of his rise can be tersely told. He had ceaseless energy guided by a passion for the improvement of mankind. A recital of his accomplishments sounds like a round of the old counting game Dr. Lawyer Merchant Chief. He was, in fact, all the list except the thief. Boston gave him to America on January 17th, 1706, but Philadelphia claimed him early and he stamped himself upon the Quaker City almost as definitely as did William Penn. Passing over his precocious boyhood, when he wrote for the Boston publication of his brother James with a skill that at the time was held astonishing. The day he reached Philadelphia he was a great overgrown boy, his clothes most unsightly, for he had been wrecked trying to make an economical trip from New York by sailboat. With the exception of a single Dutch dollar he was penniless. As he trudged about the streets, his big eyes drinking in the sights, his cupid-bow mouth ready to smile at the slightest provocation, he munched a roll of bread. His reserve food supply was aloof under each arm. He was an expert printer and printers were wanted in Philadelphia. He soon got a job after which he found a boarding place in the home of Juan Reed with whose daughter, Deborah, he promptly fell in love. After a few years, the governor of Pennsylvania urged him to go to London to purchase a printing plant of his own. The officer had promised to send letters and funds aboard the ship in the mail bag, but at the critical moment forgot all about it. So young Franklin landed in London without a cent and played a short engagement as beggar man. Again, his skill as a printer saved him from want and he remained five years, having a most interesting time, meeting many of the great men of England, all of whom were charmed with his wit and philosophy. In all that period, he did not write a single letter to Deborah Reed, yet he seemed surprised and hurt on his return to Philadelphia to find the young woman married to another. But Deborah's husband, who had treated her cruelly, quite civilly left her a widow so that Franklin, careless but faithful, was able ultimately to claim her as his wife. For the next 20 years, Franklin did something new at almost every turn. He flew a kite in a thundershower, drew down electricity and invented the lightning rod to the salvation of generations of rural sales agents. He invented a stove that still holds his name. He organized the first fire company in America and founded the first public library. All the while, he was publishing Poor Richard's Almanac, which to this day ranks as an epigrammatic masterpiece. American politics soon claimed Franklin as an ideal diplomatist. English and Scottish universities honored him with degrees for his discoveries and writings. In Paris, he became the most popular man of the period and was overwhelmed with attention from all classes. He was one of the first signers of the Declaration of Independence and he rounded out his political career as governor of Pennsylvania and one of the framers of the Constitution. He died in Philadelphia in April 1790, in some respects, the greatest of Americans. Charles Brockton Brown, monograph number three in the mentor reading course. Charles Brockton Brown has often been called the earliest American novelist, but today his books are very rarely read. All of them are romantic and weird with incidents bordering on the supernatural. They are typical of the kind of novel general at the time Brown lived. He was born on January 17th, 1771 in Philadelphia. His parents were Quakers. As a boy, his health was bad and since he was not able to join with other boys in outdoor sports, he spent most of his time in study. His principal amusement was the invention of ideal architectural designs, planned on the most extensive and elaborate scale. Later, this bent for construction developed into schemes for ideal commonwealths. Still later, it showed itself in the elaborate plots of his novels. Brown planned in the early part of his life to study law, but his constitution was too feeble for this arduous work. He had his share of the youthful dreams of great literary conquests. He planned a great epic on the discovery of America with Columbus as his hero, another with the adventures of Pizarro for the subject and still another upon the conquests of Cortez. However, as with the case of many great dreams, they were given up. When he was still a boy, he wrote a romance called Car-Saw, which was not published, however, until after his death. The next thing he wrote was an essay on the question of women's rights and liberties. This question was already becoming an important one in England, where William Godwin and Mary Wollstonecraft were publishing their writings. Brown was much influenced by the works of both. Although Brown's books make heavy reading, yet his companionship were of the liveliest. It was said that no man ever had truer friends or loved these friends better. One of his closest friends was Dr. Eli Smith, a literary man. It was through him that Brown was introduced into the Friendly Club of New York City, where he met many other workers in the literary field. And it was under their influence that he produced his first important work. This was a novel published in 1798 called Weiland or The Transformation. A mystery seemingly inexplicable is solved as a case of ventriloquism, which at that time was just beginning to be understood thoroughly. His next book was Arthur Mervin, remarkable for its description of the epidemic of yellow fever in Philadelphia. Edgar Huntley, a romance rich in local color followed this. An effective use is made of somnambulism and in it, Brown anticipates James Fenimore Cooper's introduction of the American Indian into fiction. The novelist then wrote two novels dealing with ordinary life, but they proved to be failures. Then he began to compile a general system of geography to edit a periodical and to write political pamphlets, but all the time his health was failing. On February 22nd, 1810, he died of tuberculosis. His biographer, William Dunlap, who was the novelist's friend, says that Brown was the purest and most amiable of men, due perhaps to his Quaker education. His manner was at times a little stiff and formal, but in spite of this, he was deeply loved by his friends. Washington Irving, monograph number four in the mentor reading course. A bankruptcy produced one of the greatest American writers. If the business house with which Washington Irving was associated had not failed, he might never have seriously attempted to take up literature. Washington Irving was born in New York City on April 3rd, 1783. He was named after George Washington, who at that time was the idol of the American people. Both his parents were immigrants from Great Britain. His father was a prosperous merchant at the time of Irving's birth. Irving was a mischievous boy. Perhaps this was due to the fact that Deacon Irving was a severe father. He detested the theater and permitted no reading on Sunday except the Bible and the Catechism. Washington was permitted on weekdays to read only Gulliver's Travels and Robinson Crusoe. Nevertheless, in spite of his father's strictness, the boy managed to steal away from home to attend the theater. Irving intended to be a lawyer, but his health gave way and he had to take a voyage to Europe. In this journey, he went as far as Rome and in England made the acquaintance of Washington Alston, the famous American painter, who was then living there. On his return, he was admitted to the bar, but he made little effort at practicing. In the meanwhile, however, he, his brother William and J.K. Pauling wrote some humorous sketches called Salma Gundy Papers, which were quite successful. About this time came the single romance of Irving's life. Judge Hoffman, in whose law office he was, had a daughter named Matilda. The young lawyer fell in love with her, but this romance was brought to a tragic end by her death. Irving never married, remaining true throughout his life to the memory of this early attachment. Irving's first important piece of writing was the Nickerbocker History of New York. It was a clever parody of a history of the city published by Dr. Samuel Mitchell. The book was received with enthusiasm by the public and Irving's reputation was made. His health never of the best again gave way. In 1815, he revisited Europe and made the acquaintance of many important people there, including Disraeli, Campbell, and Scott. The business in which he was a silent partner fell into bad conditions and ended with a bankruptcy which left Irving virtually without resources. His brother, who was an influential member of Congress, secured for him a secretarieship in the United States Navy Department with a salary of $2,500 a year, but Irving declined this with the intention of writing for a living. From that time he was successful. All his books were eagerly received and it was not long before he was considered America's leading writer. He went to Spain as at a shea of the American legation in 1826. When he returned to the United States, he found his name household word. Then he decided to settle down somewhere in the country and quietly enjoy life. He built a delightful home on the Hudson River, New York, to which he gave the name of Sunnyside where he spent his last years. His charming personality attracted to him many friends and there were no worries to bother him. He continued his writing to the very last. He died of heart disease at Sunnyside on November 28th, 1859. On the day of his funeral, all the shops in Tarrytown were closed and draped in mourning. Both sides of the road leading to his grave at Sleepy Hollow were crowded with sorrowful mourners. James Kirk Paulding, monograph number five in the Mentor Reading Course. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. Where is the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked? It is rather unusual to find that the most familiar writing of an author is merely a bit of nonsense. Yet the verse of James Kirk Paulding best known to us today is the tongue twister quoted above. He wrote poetry, most of which is gracefully commonplace and a good many novels attractive in style but of no great interest. James Kirk Paulding was born in Duchess County, New York on August 22nd, 1779. He attended the village school for a short time but in 1800 went to New York City where in connection with his brother-in-law William Irving and Washington Irving, another of the American pioneer prose writers, he began to publish in January 1807 a series of short, lightly humorous articles called the Salma Gundy Papers. In 1814, a political pamphlet of his, the United States and England attracted the notice of President Madison. He was favorably impressed and the next year appointed him Secretary to the Board of Navy Commissioners. He held this position until November 1823. He was Navy agent in New York City from 1825 to 1837. Paulding was always a successful man of affairs and an able politician. In recognition of his ability, President Van Buren made him a member of his cabinet in 1837 as Secretary of the Navy. Later he retired to Poughkeepsie, New York where he divided his time between writing and farming. He died on April 6th, 1860. Paulding came of good old knickerbocker blood. In his work, he never liked to revise what he had already written nor did he plan out his books. His best known work is perhaps the Dutchman's fireside which has many pleasing pages of Dutch life. He also wrote a number of poems but these do not measure up to the standards of good poetry. One of them, the Backwoodsman, extends over 3,000 lines, few of which may be termed good. Paulding was one of the first distinctively American writers. From his father, an active revolutionary patriot, he inherited strong anti-British sentiments. Throughout his life, he was a vigorous protester against intellectual thralldom to the mother country. James Fenimore Cooper, monograph number six in the mentor reading course. James Fenimore Cooper was one of the most popular writers that ever lived. Almost every American has read some or all of Cooper's books and his stories have been translated into nearly all the languages of Europe and indeed into some of Asia. Balzac, the French novelist, admired him greatly. Victor Hugo, another famous French writer, said that Cooper was greater than any novelist living at the time. Many of Cooper's readers gave him the title of the American Walter Scott. Cooper was born at Burlington, New Jersey, September 15th, 1789. His boyhood was spent in the wild country around Otsego Lake, New York. His father was a judge and a member of Congress. Cooper entered Yale at the early age of 14 and was the youngest student on the rolls. At college, he did not pay much attention to his studies and in fact was rather wayward. Before he'd even completed his junior year, his resignation was requested. His father interceded for him, but it was useless. The young man then entered the United States Navy but after becoming a midshipman, he resigned to marry. He then settled down in Westchester County, New York. His home life proved to be most happy. He published his first book, Precaution, anonymously. Then came The Spy in 1821, a success from the very first. Many novels followed in rapid succession. In 1826, he went to Paris, where he published The Prairie, which many consider the best of all his books. He became very popular abroad. The most distinguished people of Europe felt honored to entertain him. In 1833, he returned to America where he discovered that his popularity was declining as American critics did not believe that his later books were measuring up to his earlier standard. He resented the sharp criticism of several of his writings and much ill-feeling grew up between the novelist and the public. In particular, he was on bad terms with his neighbors in the village of Cooperstown, New York, where he lived. This came to a climax in a fierce quarrel over the ownership of a bit of woodland which extended into the lake near his home, Otsigohall. Cooper won in the courts, but the villagers evened things up with him by personal attacks. Lawsuits followed one after another, although Cooper pretended indifference to public opinion. Nevertheless, he suffered under the abusive attacks. Cooper was not on intimate terms with the prominent literary men of his day. Toward the end of his life, he loved his home more and more. He was fond of walking in the woods and fields, and as he himself said, he had an old man's yearning for the solemn shadows of the trees. On September 14th, 1851, he died peacefully in his home at Cooperstown, surrounded by members of his family. End of Chapter 1, Recording by Colleen McMahon. Chapter 2 of The Mentor 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Myra Parker. The Mentor 2 By Various 2 The Mentor Rembrandt Volume 4 Number 20 Serial Number 120 December 1st, 1916 by John Van Dyke, Professor of the History of Art, Rutgers College Rembrandt Early Years 1 Sometimes it is difficult to learn the truth about a great man. This is particularly so in the case of one who lived three centuries ago. For in those days, people were not as careful to keep records as they are today. For years, the great painter Rembrandt was regarded as having been ignorant, boorish, and avaricious. Fable's making him out to be such a character sprang up without any foundation. It is only within the last 50 years that we have come to know the true Rembrandt and to realize that he had profound sympathy, a powerful imagination, an originality of mind, and that he was a poet, as well as a painter, an idealist, and also a realist. He has justly been called the Shakespeare of Holland. Rembrandt Harman's Van Wren, for that is his full name, was born at Leiden, a town near Amsterdam in Holland, on July 15th, 1605. Leiden is famous in history as the birthplace of many great artists and other men of renown. Rembrandt's home overlooked the river Rhine. He was the son of a well-to-do miller, and his parents were ambitious that Rembrandt entered the law, for his older brothers had been sent into trade. At that time, Holland was entering upon her great career of national enterprise. Science and literature flourished. Poetry and the stage were cultivated by her people, and art was made welcome in every town, large and small. So Rembrandt, after he had been sent to the high school at Leiden, decided to become a painter, for already within him, he felt the first urgings of genius. Accordingly, when Rembrandt was only 12 or 13 years old, his father allowed him to become a pupil of Jacob van Swannembert, a painter of no great ability, who, however, enjoyed some reputation because he had studied in Italy. Three years later, the boy was placed under Peter Lastman of Amsterdam, who was a much better artist and teacher. Authorities differ as to how long Rembrandt remained with Lastman. One says that he was his pupil until he was 19 years old. Another believes that he studied with him for only six months. At any rate, sometime after 1623, Rembrandt returned to the home of his parents at Leiden. During these first years of his artistic life, Rembrandt worked hard. He painted pictures of almost everyone he saw, beggars, cripples, and in short, every picturesque face and form of which he could get hold. Life, character, and special lighting effects were his principal concern. Frequently, he used his mother for a model, and from these portraits, we can trace his strong resemblance to her. The young artist also liked to paint his father and sisters, and by the number of portraits he painted of himself, we can see that from the very beginning, he worked hard to master every form of expression, learning to draw the human face as it appeared, not only to the casual observer, but also to one who read the character within. It is said that during his lifetime, Rembrandt painted nearly 60 portraits of himself. Time went by, and the young artist of Leiden was attracting the attention of art lovers in the great metropolis of Amsterdam. Some of them urged him to move there and feeling that he was now strong enough to stand alone, Rembrandt rented a large house in Amsterdam and removed there in 1631. He divided the upper part of his house into small studios, and there he worked and taught. His pupils were many and from wealthy families. From this teaching, Rembrandt derived a large income. Fortune smiled upon him. At one bound, he leaped into the position of the leading portrait painter of Amsterdam. Numerous commissions for portraits flowed in upon him, and during the first few years of his residence there, he painted at least 40. When he was only 26 years old, in 1632, he painted The Anatomy Lesson, a picture that made an enormous sensation and holds its place today as one of Rembrandt's masterpieces. The year 1634 was one of the happiest in Rembrandt's life. He was then at the beginning of a successful artistic career, and it was at that time that he married Saskia van Ulemburg, a beautiful, freesian maiden. Saskia brought him love and wealth. Eight years of prosperity and sunshine followed their union. Rembrandt and his wife were a joyous pair. They had four children, a boy and two girls, who died in infancy, and a son, Titus, who grew to man's estate. The master painter, two. The year 1640 marks the beginning of what may be termed the second period of Rembrandt's life and work. It was during these years that success and happiness were his. From then until 1654, Rembrandt worked in what has been called his second manner. His art grew in power and the coldness of his first manner had disappeared. He had passed through a period of exaggerated expression and had come to a truer, calmer form of painting. It is interesting to compare his own portrait painted in 1640 with the earlier portraits of himself. This painting portrays a man strong and robust with powerful head, determined chin, and keen penetrating eyes. This was the Rembrandt of that period. The man confidently independent and careless as to his popularity as an artist. Rembrandt had now many pupils. He had bought a house in Amsterdam and had placed in it a great collection of paintings and engravings. At that time, the artist was living a life of simple domesticity, happy with his wife and children. His friends were many and his interests were large. Rembrandt's mother died in 1640 and two years later, the great sorrow of his life came upon him. His wife, Saskia, died. This changed everything for him. The events of his latter days are clouded in obscurity. The terms of Saskia's will are interesting in that they may throw some light upon a later action of the artist, which will be related further on. She left her money to their son Titus with Rembrandt as sole trustee and with full use of the money until he should marry again or until the marriage of Titus. It was in 1642 also that Rembrandt painted his most famous picture, the Night Watch. This is one of the landmarks of Rembrandt's career. However, it is not a Night Watch at all, but a call to arms by day and more properly should be named the Day Watch. The artist's life was changed after the death of his wife. No longer does he appear to have been the buoyant carefree painter and art lover. There is a pathetic sadness in many of his works done at this time. This is well illustrated in his pictures of the Holy Family, a subject which was a favorite with him during this period of his life. One reason for Rembrandt's unhappiness was his waning popularity. The Night Watch, which was painted to order as a collection of portraits in one composition did not prove satisfactory to his customers. Some of them complained of being put in the background and obscured. Naturally, the artist could not give places of prominence to every person in the picture. Not understanding this, however, these people took offense at his disposition of the characters and transferred their patronage elsewhere. It was at this time that Rembrandt did a great deal of landscape painting and genius that he was, he made a success of it. It is to this period that the famous painting, The Mill, is ascribed. But though he was still the great artist, a cloud of adversity was slowly coming over Rembrandt's life. Evil days were at hand. Last years, three. During the last part of the 17th century, money was scarce in Holland. Long-continued wars and civil troubles had worn out the country. Financial depression overwhelmed Amsterdam, and in addition to this, the taste and art changed, and Rembrandt and his pictures were neglected. Most of Rembrandt's money was tied up in his house and in his large collection of valuable pictures. And when his paintings ceased to be in demand, he was forced to borrow money. Very little is known of the artist's life at this time. He was living with his servant Hendrik Schaestoffels, and in 1654 a child was born to them. To her, Rembrandt gave the name of Cornelia after his much-loved mother. It has been asserted that he married Hendrik Scha, but it is probable that he did not, for in such a case, the money left by Saskia would have gone at once to her son Titus, according to the will. In 1656, Rembrandt's financial affairs went crashing down to ruin. By a process of law, his house and land were transferred to Titus. But as his son was still a minor, Rembrandt was allowed to remain in charge of Saskia's estate. And then, Rembrandt stared him in the face. In July 1656, Rembrandt was declared bankrupt, and an inventory of his property was ordered. Two years later, the larger part of his collection of etchings and drawings was sold. The sum realized was only a small fraction of their value. Rembrandt, driven from his house, stripped of everything he possessed without friends or money, took a modest lodging in Amsterdam. The city which once had acclaimed him as its greatest portrait painter, now passed him by and left him alone to wait for death. During all these dark years, however, Rembrandt was painting some of his greatest pictures. Even amid the ruins of his affairs, he could go calmly on working, and for this, he deserves the highest respect. Among the works of this time are the portrait of Jan VI, the Adoration of the Magi, and John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness. At the same time, he continued to paint his own portrait, but in these pictures of the artist in his old age, we see a man broken by misfortune. Titus, Rembrandt's only son, had married. He died in 1668, leaving one child. A year later, on October 8th, 1669, Rembrandt himself passed away. In the Lever Mortuaire of de Westerkirk in Amsterdam, appears the following simple entry relating to his death. Tuesday, 8th October, 1669, Rembrandt Van Rien, painter on the Rovescraft, opposite de Duhlhoff, leaves two children. Rembrandt outlived his popularity, although he was the greatest genius of his time and country, and in fact, one of the great geniuses of all time and all countries. He was left to die alone and neglected by his fellow countrymen, who had they foreseen the fame that the future held in store for him might have sought his humble lodging to honor him on bended knee. The Real Man, four. One day, Rembrandt was employed in painting the portraits of a very rich family in Amsterdam. This was to be a group picture, and as usual with him, Rembrandt was working hard to make it a success. While he was painting, someone opened the door of the room in which he was and brought in the dead body of a monkey. The appearance of this funny little creature appealed to the artist at once. He wanted to make a picture of it right away, but the only thing on which he could make the drawing was the canvas on which he was painting the portraits of the rich family. So Rembrandt, without hesitation, painted the monkey in among their portraits. They were very angry, of course, but in those days, Rembrandt was at the height of his career and he did not have to concern himself about how his customers felt. This little incident, whether it is strictly true or not, illustrates one side of Rembrandt's character. When he was most successful, he was carefree and independent. It may have been this independence that brought him to his ruin, although in all probability, it was the indifference of his fellow citizens to his work. The age in which Rembrandt lived cared little for personalities. There were no newspapers to record his doings and no one of his contemporaries cared enough about it to write down much about his life and work. For these reasons, the world has never known much about Rembrandt, the man. We know that he was lighthearted, headstrong, and extravagant. We know that he was neglected and died poor and feeble, but we know little more than this, although of light, more reliable information concerning the life of this great painter has been found. A man's faults are usually remembered when his virtues are forgotten. For years, it pleased biographers to represent Rembrandt as a near-dwell artist who could not take advantage of his opportunities. We know now, however, that his faults were very human ones and that his merits greatly overbalanced them. As a boy, the artist was not an industrious scholar. He looked upon reading and writing as rather troublesome and hardly worth the labor involved in learning them. Later, he worked hard at his chosen career and the great number of pictures that he painted is sufficient evidence that he was by no means lazy. Probably, Rembrandt's greatest fault was his extravagance. Many a man can endure adversity with courage. Success is sometimes more difficult to bear. Hard luck often brings out the best in a man. Success may destroy it. Rembrandt was no exception. He spent his money freely and liked the grasshopper of the fable, sang happily through the summer with no thought of the cold to come. He liked to attend sales of works of art and he gladly paid huge sums for any pictures that caught his fancy. It is said that the dealers came very soon to know his rash and reckless methods and would push the prices far up, confident that Rembrandt would meet them. At the same time, the artist liked to buy expensive jewels for his wife. He loved Saskia devotedly and he wanted her to have everything of the finest. This manner of open-handed living naturally played havoc with his finances. When Saskia died, Rembrandt was heartbroken. His customers fell off and many troubles overwhelmed him. His friends helped him as much as possible but money ran through his hands like water through a sieve and he could not seem to control his expenditures. Then later, the death of his faithful Hendrick show was the last blow to his happiness. For a few years, Rembrandt lingered and then he too passed into the great silence. It is true that many of Rembrandt's troubles were self-inflicted but he suffered enough to pay for his faults. At any rate, it is better to remember him as a great genius and a man worthy of respect and honor. Saskia von Ulmberg, five. Rembrandt's life was one of curious contrasts. During his early manhood, he was Amsterdam's leading portrait painter. These were years of happiness and carefree enjoyment of all the good things in life. But almost as suddenly as the painter stepped into the sunshine of success, he fell back into the shadows of adversity. One of the principal causes of his happiness was his wife, Saskia. Just as her entrance into his life coincided with the period of his greatest prosperity, so her death marked the beginning of his darker years. It would seem almost as though Saskia were his guardian angel and that with her departure, Rembrandt's star began to descend. Saskia von Ulmberg was the ninth child of a wealthy patrician family of Friesland. She was born at Leeuwarden in 1612. Saskia became an orphan at an early age and then she made her home with one or the other of her married sisters in turn and finally with a cousin who lived in Amsterdam. It was at the house of this cousin that Rembrandt met her. Charmed by her youthful grace, he obtained permission to paint several portraits of her. Saskia at this time was a slender girl, rather small of stature. Her features were very regular and her eyes were of a beautiful brown shade, matching her soft reddish brown hair. Her brilliant complexion was the envy of her less favored companions. The young painter soon showed that he took a special interest in Saskia. He bestowed great care on her portraits and was in her company as much as possible. He himself was young, attractive and good looking and we may be sure that Saskia's family did not frown upon his suit. They probably realized that Rembrandt would make an excellent husband for their ward. Rembrandt's father had died some time before this and his mother gladly gave her consent to the marriage. Saskia and Rembrandt were made man and wife on June 22nd, 1634. Their life was very happy. Rembrandt's tastes were domestic and he was never more pleased than when planning his wife's happiness. He centered his whole thought and energy upon her. Saskia, simple and loving, was governed in all things by his wishes. She was entirely devoted to him. Rembrandt liked to use Saskia as his model. Some of the better known pictures for which she posed are her own portrait in the castle gallery, the Jewish Bride, painted in 1634, which is now in the hermitage in Petrograd. Sopanispa, receiving the cup of poison from Masanisa in the Prado at Madrid, which is also dated 1634 and the famous painting of Saskia and himself, now in the Dresden gallery and done about 1635, which represents Rembrandt in military costume, seated at a table with a long glass of sparkling wine in his hand and Saskia perched on his knee. At this period in his life, everything seemed to smile on Rembrandt. He was extravagant and did not know the meaning of the word save. Saskia's health had not as yet given cause for anxiety, but sad days were to come. Three children were lost in rapid succession. In 1641, the only child of theirs who survived was born. His name was Titus, after Saskia's sister, Tisha. But the young wife did not live long after her son was born. Her health broke down and an etching made by Rembrandt about 1640 shows her with sharpened features, feverish eyes, and an expression of pensive melancholy. The happy days were over. Their brief union, begun in joy, was soon to end in tears. As if in prophecy, Rembrandt's anxieties were deepened by another sorrow, the death of his mother in 1640. Saskia's illness made rapid progress. Day after day, she faded and no longer did the artist have any delusions as to her recovery. Saskia made her will on June 5th, 1642. She herself, however, had not lost all hope, for in this will, she spoke of the children she might eventually have. She made Rembrandt trustee of her property for their son, Titus, showing her perfect trust in her husband. At the end of the document, she signed her name for the last time in tremulous, almost illegible characters as if exhausted by the effort. It was only a few days later that Saskia passed away on June 19th, 1642. Rembrandt followed her coffin to the Udykirk and then returned to his lonely house where everything reminded him of his brief happiness and where he was now alone with a child nine months old. He never seemed to recover from the blow. He went on working and during the years to come painted some of his greatest pictures, but seemingly he had lost his grip on life. And from that time on, it was only a matter of a few years until he was overwhelmed by financial troubles and was driven to a humble lodging and his death. His etchings, six. Many people in considering Rembrandt think of him only as a master painter. They overlook the fact that he was also the leading etcher of his time. This monograph will take up briefly this part of the great artist's work. It is related of Hokusai, the Japanese artist, that he once said that he hoped to live to be very old and that he might have time to learn to draw in such a way that every stroke of his pencil would be the expression of some living thing. That is exactly what Rembrandt managed to do in almost every one of his etchings. This is particularly true of the wonderful little etching of his mother. One critic says that on looking at this etching, he was compelled to close his eyes for a moment because of the tears that rose unbidden at sight of it. It would be hard to find anything more worthy of praise than this engraving. Every line expresses motherly kindness, sweetness, and thoughtfulness. Nothing could have been omitted. The etching is complete. So skillful was Rembrandt as an etcher that the nobleness of his ideas and the depth of his nature are apt to be overlooked. His engravings are pervaded by his big artistic personality and by his own ennobling influence. The artist's soul spoke not only through the choice of subject, but found expression in every single detail. He showed a singular, inventive power, originality of conception, and a great depth of understanding. Among Rembrandt's etchings were many wonderfully lifelike portraits, biblical subjects, and landscapes. An interesting thing about all this work is that most of it was done between the years 1639 and 1661. After this, Rembrandt seems to have renounced etching entirely. In these 20 years, he produced his greatest works on every one of which appears the impress of the genius of the man. Rembrandt seems to have had a particular interest in making etchings of beggars. He delighted to draw them. These types were easy to find in Amsterdam at that time, but they may be called super-beggars, for as a critic says, one is almost inclined to say that they cannot be beggars because the master's hand has endowed them with the warmth and splendor with which his artistic temperament closed everything he looked at. Some of Rembrandt's etchings have brought great prices. In most cases, however, these prices varied because of the state of the plates. The points of difference between these states arise from the additions and changes made by Rembrandt on the plates. A single impression of one of his etchings, Rembrandt with the sword, was bought for about $10,000 in 1893. Another Ephraim bonus with Black Ring brought about $9,750, while a third, the Hundred-Gilder Print, fetched about $8,750. Some may find in Rembrandt's etching much that at first appears rough and uncouth. More apparent skill and ease in drawing may appear to have been shown by other etchers, but Rembrandt's work may justly be termed big for it was conceived on a grand scale by a genius and master. The visitor to the Netherland Art Galleries should leave his notions of Greek and Italian art with his umbrella at the entrance. Holland is no place to talk about cannons of proportion or types of beauty or ideals of any kind. The Dutch are now, as they have always been, a people confronted by the realities of existence and see life, literature and art as facts, rather than as fancies. There has never been much romance about them, but on the contrary, a realization of the existence, a grasp of the truth and vitality of things, a keen penetration into the human problem. There never was any need for far fetched fancies or ideals. The life about them interested and impressed them. And from the very beginning, the Dutch painters were painting the portrait of their own land and people. The result was an art that has a distinct quality of its own, just as distinct a quality as the art of Persia or Japan. You would not think of judging Japanese art by that of Italy. Why then think of Dutch art in any other terms than its own? Rembrandt and Raphael. To carry out the thought on illustration, it may be said that Rembrandt, the great Dutchman, was the very opposite of Raphael, the great Italian. He painted no allegories on Vatican walls, was not led away by Renaissance revivals of Greek form, dreamed no dreams of uniting pagan types with Christian ideals. Even technically, he was widely different from Raphael. He painted the easel pictures in oils, had no love whatever for Italian line and composition, did all his drawing and modeling by catches of shadow and produced his most startling effects by the dramatic use of light and color. In all this, Rembrandt was merely reflecting his time and his people in his own ingenious way. He was emphatically true to the Dutch point of view and today his art is full of truth, force, vitality, character. In fact, that word character is the keynote to all his work. It furthermore explains that aesthetic paradox sometimes applied to Rembrandt, the beauty of the ugly. For many of his people are ugly, if we regard them for the straightness of their foreheads and noses, the oval of their chins or the proportions of their figures, but they are beautiful in their simplicity of presence, their unconscious sincerity, their profound truth of character. Rembrandt as a leader. No country in Europe produced a finer quality of art or a more learned school of craftsmen than Holland. There was a master genius there as elsewhere and that genius was Rembrandt. He came when Holland had reached her highest pitch of power, came on the crest of the wave of which he and his fellow painters were the light and color. He has been acclaimed as her great painter and he deserves that title. For of all the Dutch masters, he was practically the only one who was universal in his scope. His art alone, in its appeal, travels beyond the confines of the Netherlands. What he has to say is world embracing and finds sympathetic response with all peoples. He is profound in his humanity, in his penetration into life problems, in his sympathy with his fellow man. The poor, mean-looking Amsterdam Jews that he portrayed in so many of his pictures are pathetic in their humility, their suffering, their patience. He was always taking for models the humble, the despised, the lowly. His heart seemed to go out to them. And with such types, what a new interpretation he gave the Bible. How he realized Bible truth and brought it home to his own people by using the Jew of the quarter and the boar of the polder for models. Look at the supper at Emmaus. Look for the intensity of the types rather than any regularity of form. What pathos in the pale blue-lipped Christ with the phosphorescent glimmer of the tomb about the architecture at the back? What amazement in the disciples at the table? What fear in the boy bringing in the dish? This was perhaps the first time in art that the supper at Emmaus was made real and believable. The story was not only realized but humanized. All of Rembrandt's biblical pictures were of this nature. Look again at the Minoa's prayer or the Tobit and the angel or the sacrifice of Abraham. They are Dutch types again in Dutch costumes and surroundings. Rembrandt knew very well that the biblical characters were not Dutch in type and that the people in the time of Christ did not dress like the boars and burgers of Holland. He purposely painted his own people in their native costumes that he might the better and the more forcefully bring realization home to them. It was not, is not, affection. Study the Minoa and his wife, the Abraham, the family of Tobit on the doorstep and you cannot find in all art people of more unconscious sincerity. Rembrandt believed in them and that is why you and I believe in them today. Rembrandt as a portrait painter. Rembrandt painted many biblical pictures which are at present widely scattered throughout the European galleries. In all of them he gave a new interpretation, a profound insight, a real meaning to scriptural story. In addition, he painted many figure compositions of a historical or mythological cast, but his great success after all said and done was with the portrait. His technical methods were well suited to the portrait and he was unsurpassed in giving the truth of presence in his sitter. The quiet dignity of his Dutch burgers, their repose and simplicity, the complete absence of anything like pretense about them made up Rembrandt's point of view. But to this he added a cunning hand and a technical skill that were wonderful. How superbly with his catches of light and shade he could draw an eye, a forehead, a nose, a chin, how instantly and inevitably he caught the salient feature and turned it by sharp emphasis into positive expression. What significant he could get out of an outstretched hand, a bent back, a bowed head. These were features wherewith he proclaimed the character of his sitter. The portrait of an old lady in the National Gallery London has the flabby cheek, the trembling lip, the wrinkled brow of the aged, but you can also see that hers has been a life of suffering and that the eyes have often been blinded with tears. On the contrary, the portrait of a man, the so-called Sobiesky at Petrograd has the determination and force of the warrior. It has grip and firmness and courage about it. These are not only in the features, but Rembrandt has even put them in the brushwork, the manner of handling. Again, by way of contrast, the heads in the lesson in anatomy are put in calmly, serenely, inevitably just right. What intelligence, seriousness, and living presence they have, they are what might be called speaking likenesses in the sense that all they lack of life is speech. And what can one say that will adequately describe the loveliness of mood, the eternal womanly, in the portrait of Saskia at Castle? It is a wonder as a piece of color, but still more wonderful as a characterization of the painter's wife. Once more, for a further contrast, look at the portrait of Copenall. He is supposed to be a writing master because he is sharpening a quill pin, but whatever his profession or pursuit, have you any difficulty in seeing here a dull-witted person of very limited intelligence, the very fatness of the forehead, so remarkable in its realistic rendering, the narrow eyes with their vacant stare, the pumpkin cheeks and head, the soft, lazy hands, seem to point to some clerk or pedagogue who had not enough brains to know that he wanted more. Rembrandt was easily one of the great group of portrait painters with Titian, Velazquez, and Holbein. And by this I mean no faint praise. It seems to be thought in some quarters that portraiture is somehow an inferior branch of painting. It is said to require no invention or imagination, but nothing could be more mistaken than such an idea. When we speak of Rembrandt, Titian, Velazquez, and Holbein, we are speaking of the world's great masters and perhaps their most satisfactory masterpieces are their portraits. A painter who can adequately portray his fellow man as Rembrandt did has practically said the last word in art. That Rembrandt had this gift in accomplishment is evidenced by the high esteem in which his work is held by painters even to this day. His technical method. There was no trick about Rembrandt's painting. He was no slave to a particular color, canvas, or brush. He painted at times with the palette knife, at other times with his thumb. He needed the surface, plowed through it when it was wet, did almost anything to get effects by catches of light and shade, whereby he drew and modeled. But none of these small peculiarities explains his technical success. His methods were sound enough and for the most part were known before his day, but he applied them better and increased their carrying power. He has been called the master of light and shade, and so indeed he was within a limited range. It was the same light and shade known to Leonardo, Giorgio and Caravaggio, and probably Rembrandt got it from pictures of the Neapolitan school, though he was never in Italy, but Rembrandt improved upon the Italian method of using shadow. He made it transparent, enveloping, mysterious, and its antithesis, light, he made penetrating and dramatic by putting it in sharp contrast. Out of the two, he got wonderful effects. In doing the portrait head, for instance, he threw his highest light on the collar, the nose, the chin, the forehead. This highlight ran off quickly into half light and then into shadow, so that by the time the ear or the side of the neck was reached, dark, even black notes were used. The decrease was rapid, in fact, often violent, but this only served to focus the attention more keenly upon the dominant features of the face. The result was what has been called forced, but it was very effective. It was the same effect that one sees today at the opera when the chief actor is in the spotlight and the rest of the stage is in gloom. The Night Watch. But this violent focusing of light had its limitations even in Rembrandt's hands. The Night Watch exemplifies them. This was to be a portrait group of the 16 members of the Fransban and Cockshooting Company. The members wanted their portraits painted in a group after the manner of the time and Rembrandt conceived the idea of painting the portraits and making a stirring picture of the company coming out of its quarters at one and the same time. It was an ambitious scheme and not wholly successful because here came the limitations of his method. He painted 16 portraits with his spotlight illumination, each one being completed under its own light. The picture lacked that one light which should have bound together the whole company. As a result, there were 16 separate portraits on the one canvas held together in measure by shadow, color, and atmosphere, but spotty in the lighting. The French writers of the 18th century could not understand the lighting and were led to think the picture represented a night scene. They called it the Ronde du Nuit and later, Sir Joshua Reynolds translated this into Night Watch, but nothing is more certain than that Rembrandt intended it for a day scene in full sunlight. It was simply his arbitrary way of handling light that made a night effect out of daylight. That is about the only criticism that can be lodged against the Night Watch. Light and color have both been sacrificed to shadow, but when that is conceded, the picture still remains a marvel of color, shadow, and atmosphere, and a wonder of life and action. The movement, the bustle of it is superb. The captain and his lieutenant in the foreground are in full light, but back of them and around them emerging out of the gloom are nebulous heads, flashing casks, plumes, halberds, guns, drums, dogs, street urchins, all the belongings of a militia company on parade. They are not only wonderful in their action, but in their mystery of appearance, coming out of shadow depths into light. Of course, the picture was not entirely satisfactory to the 16. They had bargained for their portraits, and little knew then how cheaply they were purchasing immortality. Those in the background complained that they were not sufficiently spotlighted, not treated with sufficient importance, in fact, subordinated to those in the front row. But the picture as a picture is certainly successful, is a great favorite with all art lovers, and in the Rijks Museum in Amsterdam, where it now hangs, it is considered one of the world's great masterpieces. Truer lighting, that is, truer to the facts of general illumination, is seen in the earlier lesson in anatomy, and the later syndics of the cloth hall. But neither picture has the fascination nor the imagination of the night watch. Rembrandt's Styles. Rembrandt's work is usually divided into three different periods. At first, his method of handling was calm measured, even at times smooth. His light and color were gray, as also his backgrounds. This period has been called his gray period. The lesson in anatomy, the sacrifice of Abraham, the Coppenall, the Elizabeth Boss, the old lady of the National Gallery London, all illustrate this early manner. It was gradually encroached upon and finally superseded by a fuller, freer handling of the brush with much warmer color and light tending toward reddish gold. This has been called his golden period and marks the midday of his career. The beautiful Saskia at Castle and the so-called Sobiesky at Petrograd illustrate the beginning of this period, the changing from gray to warmer notes of red, yellow, and gold. The Woman with the Pink at Castle, the Minoa's Prayer at Dresden, the Night Watch were done further along in this middle period. It was the time when Rembrandt was in his full strength, saw comprehensively, handled a full pallet of color and was almost infallibly accurate with his hand. In his third and last period, Rembrandt's work became rather hot and foxy in color, dark in illumination, needed and thumbed in the surface and sometimes uncertain in drawing. He was expanding into a larger view and vision up to the last, seeing objects in their broader relations and proportions rather than in their surfaces. Toward the close, he often slurred the surfaces, neglected textual qualities and threw his whole force into the rendering of mass in relation to light, air, and color. The pictures of this period are hard for the beginner in art to understand because he is misled by the roughness of the surfaces, the messy state of the pigments, the apparent fumbling, kneading, rubbing out and amending of the brushwork. But as we have said, Rembrandt was purposely slurring surface truce for the greater truce of bulk, weight, and general relationship. The best example of this late work among our illustrations is the Syndics of the Cloth Hall in the Rijksmuseum Amsterdam. In it, Rembrandt went back to his early method of lighting but continued with his late manner of handling and coloring. It is superbly broad in vision, absolute in its truth to life and convincing in its incident. The cloth merchants are seated about a table, perhaps figuring up their year's balance when someone opens the door to enter and they all look up to see the incomer. Nothing could be simpler, more direct or truer. Rembrandt never painted anything better. For here, he completely fulfilled expectations. Many of his later canvases he could not complete, the Blessing of Jacob at Castle, for instance. He probably gave up in despair or was working upon at the time of his death. He had reached a pitch in his career when he saw and strove for things that his hand or brush could not realize or pin down to canvas. That is the great stone wall that even genius encounters and cannot surmount. The Master's Life. The story of Rembrandt's career is recited elsewhere in this number of the mentor but it may be said here that it was not different from that of many other painters. He came up to Amsterdam from the outlying country and achieved celebrity at an early age. Praise and pay and pupils poured in upon him. He married the beautiful Saskia and was happy. But as he expanded in vision and methods, he went beyond the understanding and the appreciation of his public. His pupils, such as Bol and Flink, who had a more commonplace point of view and a smoother, prettier style of painting, outdid him in public favor. The public began to desert him. The fair Saskia died. The great Master fell upon evil days and finally passed out in penury and want, evidently neglected and possibly forgotten by the age and people he had done so much to glorify. The record of his death in the burial book of the Westerkirk, Amsterdam, is pathetic in its meagerness. Tuesday, 8th October, 1669, Rembrandt van Rijn, painter on the Rusgraft. Opposite the Duhlhof, leaves two children. It almost looks as though he were identified only by the squalid quarters in which he died. And this was Rembrandt, the greatest master north of the Alps and a genius of almost Shakespearean quality. Many pictures attributed to him. A fine, gravier reproduction of this painting appears in the mentor number 28. It seems that not only was Rembrandt and his art misunderstood in his own time, but that he is still misunderstood at the present time. This is in measure due to many pictures which are mistakenly attributed to him. One need not be an expert to find it strange that of 20 pupils of Rembrandt who painted more or less in his style, there remain hardly 20 pictures apiece and some of them not even one. What paralyzed their hands or destroyed their works? What became of their pictures? You begin to get a glimmer of light when you understand that to Rembrandt there are assigned 1,000 or 1,500 examples that these are painted in 15 or 20 different styles, though all superficially resembling Rembrandt style. Almost everything that is Rembrandt-esque or even casually resembles Rembrandt has been signed up and sold as his since the master came back to popular favor. The name is one that now brings thousands of dollars in the auction room and what wonder that it is often misused. These Rembrandt-esque pictures were done by other hands than his. Are pupils works or schoolwork or copies or in a few cases forgeries? Rembrandt's work has never been critically studied as that of Leonardo or Giorgione. Strange again is it not that Leonardo and Giorgione in the final analysis should have less than a dozen pictures apiece left to them while Rembrandt should still be given his 1,000? Northern art has not had a critical search light turned upon it as had Italian art 30 years ago. When it does, the present catalog of Rembrandt's will crumble. In the meantime, the art student would better accept Rembrandt only in his best authenticated works, such for instance, as are reproduced in this number of the mentor. Half of the so-called Rembrandts in the European galleries are now to be taken with a grain of salt. They may be and often are exceedingly good pictures, but they are not by Rembrandt. End of chapter two, recording by Myra Parker.