to have gotten over his nervousness in working with strange
models; for new faces now begin to appear. One of these is that of a
woman, and it would have been well for his art had he never met her. We
see her face quite often, and in the "Diana Bathing" we behold her
altogether.

Rembrandt shows small trace of the classic instinct, for classic art is
founded on poetic imagination. Rembrandt painted what he saw; the Greeks
portrayed that which they felt; and when Rembrandt paints a Dutch wench
and calls her "Diana," he unconsciously illustrates the difference
between the naked and the nude. Rembrandt painted this same woman,
wearing no clothes to speak of, lolling on a couch; and evidently
considering the subject a little risky, thought to give it dignity by a
Biblical title: "Potiphar's Wife." One good look at this picture, and the
precipitate flight of Joseph is fully understood. We feel like following
his example.

Rembrandt had simply haunted the dissecting-rooms of the University at
Leyden a little too long.

The study of these viragos scales down our rating of the master. Still, I
suppose every artist has to go through this period--the period when he
thinks he is called upon to portray the feminine form divine--it is like
the mumps and the measles.

After a year of groping for he knew not what, with money gone, and not
much progress made, Rembrandt took a reef in his pride and settled down
to paint portraits, and to do a little good honest teaching.

Scholars came to him, and commissions for portraits began to arrive. He
renounced the freaks of costume, illumination and attitude, and painted
the customer in plain, simple Dutch dress. He let "Diana" go, and went
soberly to work to make his fortune.

Holland was prosperous. Her ships sailed every sea, and brought rich
treasures home. The prosperous can afford to be generous. Philanthropy
became the fad. Charity was in the air, and hospitals, orphanages and
homes for the aged were established. The rich merchants felt it an honor
to serve on the board of managers of these institutions.

In each of the guildhalls were parlors set apart for deliberative
gatherings; and it became the fashion to embellish these rooms with
portraits of the managers, trustees and donors.

Rembrandt's portraits were finding their way to the guilds. They
attracted much attention, and orders came--orders for more work than the
artist could do. He doubled his prices in the hope of disco