In 2013, in the midst of Amsterdam, crowds lined both sides of a street for a very special event. No, there were no visiting foreign dignitaries showing off to the crowd, nor any local ones of import. It was simply a team of husky men slowly rolling a huge crate down the street. The crate contained what is now called a Dutch national treasure, and all the people could see of it were the huge printed versions of what was inside, plastered on each side of the huge crate. (See Andrew Graham Dixon’s Night at the Rijksmuseum -section 2/4 given here youtube.com) So had the Dutch gone a bit around the bend? No, not at all. What was inside of the giant crate was Rembrandt’s The Night Watch, a 17th century painting of a company of civil guards, who supposedly helped protect the city, but which was more a company of good old boys who went on patrol.
While the picture above is rather amusing, it is also a good way to gain some perspective on how revered that painting is in Holland. One also sees how different Rembrandt’s painting is in terms of others in that genre. The genre was portraiture but specifically paintings made of the members of these different companies of civilian guards or of trade guilds, which were commissioned for the grand celebrations held at the end of each 3-year period, when new officers were elected. The old guard, literally was celebrated and the new installed, and quite a merry time was had by all. Certainly the painting on the far wall shows all the members of one company, each standing so that his face can be clearly seen, since each member paid for his own portrait. Some merriment was going on, but most of the men stood up straight and showed off their finery in a fairly dignified manner. Then look at the Rembrandt. No wait, here let me get you good examples so you can really see the difference.
Okay, now here is a piece done “the right way,” according to the custom of the day. The key players stand out and are well posed. Each person’s face is nicely lighted, so everyone gets his money’s worth. Well not everyone, poor Frans Hals, who was always a bit short on dime and on time, took the commission in 1633, and had 34, 35, and 36 to finish it. However, with most of it done, he failed to deliver as the due date neared. So poor Hals (and he was always rather poor as he had a large family) had to repay all the money, some of which the guard gave to Codde to finish the last bits. At any rate, this example is given just so you have a clear vision of what one of these portraits was supposed to look like. For more see the Web Gallery of Art article www.wga.hu
Now, let’s look at The Night Watch. This painting does not concentrate on static poses but rather seems to picture the guard going on patrol. There are men loading guns, a drummer to tap out the beat for their march, another with a giant flag, and the rest talk, point, and are otherwise busy. No one has lined up to show off his finery and his face, though as I have pointed out, they each pay for their portraits. However, the key figures, the leader of the company and his second stand out. In the center and well-lit are Frans Banninck Cocq, the captain of Amsterdam’s civil militia, and with him, dressed all in golden yellow (even the hat and boots match), is his lieutenant Willem Van Ruytenburch. As opposed to the banquet scene in Hals, these guys are going on patrol. However, in looking at the picture futher, should the residents of Amsterdam really feel safe?
Okay, so let’s just drill down on this very interesting section of the painting. Let’s take Banninck Cocq. He was a politician as well as the captain of the militia. Later he became mayor of the city, so he was a real mover and shaker in Amsterdam. Here in his black suit with a red sash, he seems to be giving instruction or at least commenting to his lieutenant, Van Ruytenburch, who is a more problematic character here. While yellow was seen as the color of victory, the fancy quality of this golden outfit seems rather out of place for guard duty. Of course, one can make much of the fact that the only other character in yellow is the girl, and both she and Van Ruytenburch are highlighted in bright light. That bright light cast a shadow of Banninck Cocq’s hand, which shows in an interesting place in terms of his lieutenant’s anatomy. The shape of the lance carried by Van Ruytenburch could also be taken as interestingly symbolic. Adding all of this up might lead one to think that Rembrandt was commenting on something he knew or had observed about this company and the relationship of its two leaders.
If you ever get the chance to go to Amsterdam, do go to Rembrandt’s house. When you do, you will be shown an area above the room where those who came to sit for portraits had to wait until the master was ready to paint them. In that area the artist could have a view of who was waiting and could hear what they were saying. In terms of The Night Watch, the question arises about what Rembrandt may have seen or heard that caused him to create this rather mysterious, suggestive painting that was so out of the ordinary for that genre of painting.
The girl in this company of men may simply have been someone on the street who got caught up in this mass of movement. However, one notices that she is carrying a chicken and there is some indication that there may be the butt of a pistol jutting out from under the chicken. (I’ve not been able to get a good enough photo detail of that.) At any rate, that chicken may be symbolic of a certain profession she might be engaged in. Now Rembrandt gave her the face of his wife, Saskia, which would seem a strange association given the role this girl might play in this drama. Only Rembrandt knows why he chose his wife’s face for this character. However, some say that the girl is simply a mascot for the company or just a symbolic representation of the company as the chicken claws relate to the Kloveniers Guild to which this company belonged. At the very least, the lighting on her and Van Ruytenburch and their color coordination in dress seem to be a meaningful connection in regard to the feminine.
The other odd thing seen in that detail is that the man behind Banninck Cocq fires a musket (notice the red/orange sparks of fire) right past the ostrich plumes in Van Ruytenburch’s hat. Somehow, neither Van Ruytenburch nor the captain he is talking to seem to notice this loud noise right behind their heads. One then wonders what or who was this guy shooting at? Certainly, with this big group of militiamen all milling about, if one fires a gun off, it is bound to hit something or someone. So was this intentional and planned, which is why the two officers do not pay any attention to it?
Well, film director Peter Greenaway has taken a long hard look at Rembrandt’s masterpiece and come up with some interesting conclusions about Rembrandt having overheard a plot to murder one of this company’s members while he was in his hidden perch above his clients’ waiting room. Greenaway explains many of the oddities in this painting as the painter’s desire to expose this evil doing and that it was the cause of Rembrandt’s precipitous fall from favor and into poverty.
There is another film by Greenaway, a documentary, called Rembrandt, J’accuse, which serves as a companion piece to the film and explores the combined benefits that the members of this company would gain by killing one of their companions. Greenaway’s documentary posits that Rembrandt outted a murder conspiracy (oh, it was just an accident when out on patrol) and that the main culprits were Banninck Cocq and Van Ruytenburch, who wanted to silence one of the company who knew too much. Given the homo-erotic symbolism of the shadow hand and the head of the lance, not to mention Van Ruytenburch’s fancy outfit, ostrich plumes and all, one can imagine what the cover up concerned. (See article in the Toronto Star thestar.com.
The tragedy of course is also that Rembrandt’s outting by innuendo a man who was a leading politician (Banninck Cocq became the mayor of Amsterdam in 1650) made himself a powerful enemy. 1642 became a turning point in Rembrandt’s career. Not only was there dissatisfaction with the portrait, as so many of the men’s faces were hard to see, and that is not what they paid for, but also 1642 was the year that Rembrandt’s beloved Saskia died. Rembrandt’s fortunes steadily declined, causing him to sell off all of the antiques and curiosities that he had collected and finally his house as well. His high spirits and flamboyance had not suited very protestant Amsterdam, so his fall brought righteous satisfaction to some. Though he was always a great painter, his latter years were indeed difficult.
The picture above says it all. We see the greatness of the painter and the obvious traces of his distress etched into his face. As for The Night Watch itself, it went through a number of changes, one of which involved trimming part of it off on either side. However, over the years, regardless of what story the painting may have been attempting to tell, the great mastery of Rembrandt’s skill in painting has won it a place in the hearts of the Dutch people, hence there willingness to line the streets to see the crate carrying the painting be wheeled slowly and carefully from one location to another. The Andrew Graham Dixon video mentioned above shows how the gigantic painting was hoisted up, through a special slot cut in the floor, to its pride of place position in the museum.
The articles used for this post are in the links above. I have also used my own art history notes taken during a 2011 course on Dutch painting for which we took a “field trip” from Avignon, France to Amsterdam to see the works we had been studying. The Night Watch was then in a special location in another building, as the renovation of the museum was not finished. However, it hung opposite of the Frans Hals painting, The Meagre Company, in order to make the startling contrast in styles and show Rembrandt’s creative genious.
All art works used in this post are in public domain. Photo credits are given in the links to the websites of origin.
Marjorie Vernelle is an artist, writer, college professor, and traveler. For more see the Pages at ofartandwine.com or her author page at amazon.com and her art at Vernelle Art Boutique vernellestudio.com and etsy.com/shop/VernelleArt Studio
For the Love of Wine: Wine in 17th Century Holland.
The 17th century was the height of the Dutch trading empire that brought, as author and historian Simon Schama says, The Embarrasment of Riches, which is also a title of his wonderful book on that period in Dutch history. Schama posits that the Dutch nation, formed from seven different small entities of which Holland was just one, was the product of two adversaries: the 80-year war with Spain and the sea. The Dutch famously reclaimed land from the sea in order to produce what they needed to survive – not to mention to grow tulips. The long war with Spain was another matter. During that war, the town of Antwerp was used as a supply depot and distribution center for the shipping of merchandise that Spain sold to the rest of Europe. The 16th century saw Spain’s fortunes increase because of its activities in the Americas, hence its key role in trade. The only role the Dutch could have was to be middlemen in that trade. However, in 1591 Spain decided to cut the Dutch out of that role. That led to the formation of the Dutch East Indies Company in 1602, and in 1609 the Dutch governent blocked Spain from any access to Antwerp, which had remained a supply center for Spanish trade.
Once the Dutch began trading in the far east and moved trade centers to Amsterdam and Rotterdam, the embarrassment of riches went into overdrive. With a fleet of 10,000 merchant ships by 1648, the good times rolled, but with a Dutch protestant touch. The Claesz painting here (for more on Claesz see this ofartandwine.com post) shows a rich meal of fresh lobster, some oysters, fruit, bread, and wine. It is a sumptuous meal with signs of partially eaten items, a peeled lemon, an open oyser, and broken bread. Notice how the plate is so close to the edge of the table. That food that was on its way to being devoured and the items on the edge of the table were symbolic of the cycles of life. One could describe it as a process of entropy or going from the whole to the fragmented, broken, or destroyed. It was used as a reminder to people that even though they lived in great wealth and abundance, it was all ephemeral – here today and gone tomorrow. Even so, the Dutch did indeed enjoy their wine and the lovely glasses they drank it from.
When it came to wine, the Dutch traders found that they could take wines from Spain, France, Italy and southern Germany and make good money trading it to England, Sweden, the Baltic, and even northern Germany. Rotterdam, which sits on the northern end of the Rhine, became the main depot for the distribution of wine. French wines and brandy were particularly valued and good wines of any origin were looked upon as luxury items. (Painting of a wine roemer by Claesz, 1642)
While the Dutch were also beer drinkers, and yes, they traded in spirits as well, wine was a very special item, and the 17th century Dutch dominated the wine and spirits trade. As I mentioned, wine was looked upon as a luxury. Bad or low quality wine was known as slootwater or ditch water. Most of what was imported was “new wine” or wine that was not to be aged. That had to do with potential storage difficulties. When in the 30 Years War, access to sweet Rhine wines was limited, the Dutch traders took Sauterne made from white grapes and stalled the fermentation process to keep the sugars in and make it a sweet wine. It is estimated that in a one-year period, 1667-1668, there were 22.6 gallons of wine consumed per person (literally for everyone, man, woman, and child). Of course it was the adults that did the drinking, and one sees the effects of that wine consumption in the work of artist Jan Steen.
Besides being a wine merchant, the wine trade was the source of three other profitable professions. One was being a wijn roeiers, or basically someone who measured quantities and quality of wine for tax purposes. It is their figures that create the picture of wine consumption stated in the previous paragraph. Another profession was that of the painters, like Claesz, who made a good living painting banketje or banquet paintings so that the wealthy citizens could show off their wealth in paintings of their elegant glassware and sumptuous table offerings. It was a way to have their wine and drink it, too. Finally, the nerdowells as always found a way to take advantage, which means that smuggling was a profitable profession. This also means that the actual consumption of wine (and spirits) was actually higher than that counted by those wijn roeiers with their gauges.
While the Netherlands currently has just a fledgling wine industry, it again has to deal with the difficulty of the climate and its location, which both affect the wines that can be produced. Of Art and Wine (April 10, 2020) took a look at the wine industry in “Carel Fabritius’ Beloved Goldfinch and Netherlands Wine.”(The bottle is an antique onion-shaped Dutch wine bottle.)
So yes, for the love of wine, the Dutch have had a long history of making things work, whether it is getting around trade restrictions imposed by war, dealing with making wines sweet when the sweet ones they wanted were not available, or striking out on their own winemaking adventures. One can only say Bravo!
Articles consulted for this post are the following:
“Dutch Burghers and Their Wine: Nary a Sour Grape” by Henriette Rahusen for the National Gallery of Art www.nga.gov This website also offers a very nice film on the Dutch and wine in the 17th century.
“The Dutch Wine Trade in the 17th Century” by Aaron Nix-Gomez on History of Wine webpage, hogsheadwine.wordpress.com
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©marjorie vernelle 2022
Coming Soon: El Greco: A Man of La Mancha, and the Castilla, La Mancha Wine Region.
One of the most famous hands in painting, this one by El Greco, the Greek immigrant to Spain who became one of its most famous painters. He is known for his many portraits of Toledo, a key city in the Castilla, La Mancha wine region.