the piece was
finished. The whole family advanced to look at it, and what was
their horror to see introduced between the heads of the eldest son
and daughter an exact likeness of the dear departed ape. With one
voice they all exclaimed against this singular relative which it had
pleased the painter to introduce amongst them, and insisted on his
effacing it.

'What!' exclaimed Rembrandt, 'efface the finest figure in the
picture? No, indeed; I prefer keeping the piece for myself.' Which
he did, and carried off the painting.

Of Rembrandt's style it may be said that he painted with light, for
frequently an object was indicated merely by the projection of a
shadow on a wall. Often a luminous spot suggested, rather than
defined, a hand or a head. Yet there is nothing vague in his
paintings: the mind seizes the design immediately. His studio was a
circular room, lighted by several narrow slits, so contrived that
rays of sunshine entered through only one at a time, and thus
produced strange effects of light and shade. The room was filled
with old-world furniture, which made it resemble an antiquary's
museum. There were heaped up in the most picturesque confusion
curious old furniture, antique armour, gorgeously-tinted stuffs; and
these Rembrandt arranged in different forms and positions, so as to
vary the effects of light and colour. This he called 'making his
models sit to him.' And in this close adherence to reality consisted
the great secret of his art. It is strange that his favourite
amongst all his pupils was the one whose style least resembled his
own--Gerard Douw--he who aimed at the most excessive minuteness of
delineation, who stopped key-holes lest a particle of dust should
fall on his palette, who gloried in representing the effects of
fresh scouring on the side of a kettle.

Rembrandt died in 1674, at the age of sixty-eight. He passed all his
life at Amsterdam. Some of his biographers have told erroneously
that he once visited Italy: they were deceived by the word
_Venetiis_ placed at the bottom of several of his engravings. He
wrote it there with the intention of deluding his countrymen into
the belief that he was absent, and about to settle in Italy--an
impression which would materially raise the price of his
productions. Strange and sad it is to see so much genius united with
so much meanness--the head of fine gold with the feet of clay.[4]

* * * * *

[Footnote 3: This p