and the incident; the sense of the relations of all the thoughts in the picture—objects, figures, persons, characters, action, with the motives and results of action—built into an indissoluble organism, the infinite complexity of elements forming one great unit of thought, compelling in its clarity—this astonishing intellectual grasp which we have without effort is strongly stimulating. Our capacity is made to abound in renewed strength.
Both of these elements are present in our enjoyment of portraiture—eminently so in this picture of Rembrandt painted by himself when he was an old man. Knowing ones may pay their attention to the manner of the painting, but we laymen must feel that we are face to face with a man whose years have been rich in life.
Yet we have here sure signs of poverty and weakening physical powers. Even if we had read nothing of Rembrandt's life we might guess from this picture that he was poor and had little of the gentleman about him. No one would be better pleased, however, if he were handsome or richly clothed; and this fact is so plain that we must at once accept those unpleasant conditions as a positive factor in creating our enjoyment. These very ills clear away the conventionalities of life and help to show us the real man. The hardships, the struggles, the failures which develop man also reveal him. It would indeed be impossible to conceive of this character apart from its faults—a man led by profound desires athwart every rule of art and society into a vision calm, warm and powerful.
It is not that we learn about this man out of histories of art and then apply our knowledge to the picture, nor is it that we deduce the character from the facts that are told us in the painting; rather, though our interpretation may be indefinite, we feel it—that is, we apprehend it with our whole nervous system. Our eyes rest in quiet contemplation on the eyes of the old philosopher; if we look away, led by the line of the arm to the hands holding palette and brushes, we inevitably look back again at the head—longest and most meditatively at the far-seeing eyes. We seem to take on something of the old man's personality; involuntarily we feel ourselves standing as he is standing, though our actual physical position may not change; we forget, as he forgets, the material conditions of his life; we assume his mood and something of his larger character. Our individual readings of this picture will differ widely, according to our several temperaments and the knowledge and associations of art and life we bring to it; nor can we hope to come to an agreement through any analysis of facial expression. Even if we had a common science by which we could judge of character, Rembrandt had none; he was neither physiognomist nor phrenologist, but as he saw with the inner eye so he painted. This is true of every great painter. To analyze their works gives us no sure interpretation, but to
