w enter upon an investigation of the LANDSCAPES OF REMBRANDT,
which, equally with his portraits, are quite peculiar to himself, but
differing from all others not from any eccentricity of manner, but from
their giving the real essence and character of the scene, when denuded
of any trifling and extraneous matters. Whatever Rembrandt touched was
impressed with the peculiar characteristics of his genius; hence it is
that the smallest stroke in his etchings is pregnant with truth. Though
painting belongs exclusively to no country, but represents the natural
appearance of each, still it is reserved for genius alone to be able to
perceive and place on canvas the essence, as it were, or great leading
features of the subject. I am now more particularly speaking of
landscape scenery. In all countries and climates there are peculiarities
of effect, which, however interesting to the traveller, or a source of
investigation to the philosopher or man of science, yet are necessarily
excluded from the recording pencil of the artist; his appeal is to
mankind at large, not to the isolated few who observe but one side of
the subject. The true artist looks upon nature as the chameleon, capable
of giving out any variety, and yet all equally true; hence it is that
the skies, for example, of Claude, Salvator Rosa, and Gaspar Poussin are
universally subordinate to the general effect of the picture. These men,
living in Italy, were quite aware of the various prismatic effects
observable in sunset, but were also convinced of the necessity of making
the sky subservient, at least conducive to, the breadth and harmony of
the picture. It may be said that Titian and Tintoret embodied the deep
and intense blues of the Venetian atmosphere, but we may remark that
their skies are always held in check by the deep reds and browns of the
draperies of their figures. Let us now, however, turn our remarks more
immediately to Rembrandt, and the scenery and effects observable in
Holland. Any one conversant with the pictures of the Dutch school must
have observed peculiar features in the skies of Backhuysen, Cuyp, and
Rembrandt, arising entirely from the localities of the scenes of their
several pictures. My young friend, E. W. Cooke, long a resident in
Holland, and a keen and observing artist, remarked that the skies in the
pictures of Backhuysen, though dark and inky, were precisely what we see
now--the deep Zuyder Sea swallowing up any refraction of light which