Danmarks Kunstbibliotek The Danish National Art Library

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(1)Digitaliseret af / Digitised by. Danmarks Kunstbibliotek The Danish National Art Library København / Copenhagen.

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(3) KUNSTMUSEETS ÅRSSKRIFT 1948-49. KØBENHAVN GYLDENDALSKE BOGHANDEL • NORDISK FORLAG LANGKJÆRS BOGTRYKKERI 1949.

(4) KUNSTMUSEETS ÅRSSKRIFT XXXV-XXXVI.

(5) KUNSTMUSEETS ÅRSSKRIET 1948-1949. KØBENHAVN GYLDENDALSKE BOGHANDEL • NORDISK FORLAG LANGKJÆRS BOGTRYKKERI. 1949.

(6) KUNSTAKADEMIETS BIBLIOTEK.

(7) INDHOLD J. Q . VAN R e g t e r e n A l t e n a : Rembrandt’s Way to Emmaus................................... O t t o G e l s t e d : Julius Lange og antikken................................................................... T o r b e n H olck Go l d in g : Mantillen, tasken og den blå sløjfe................................. L e o S w a n e : Nogle kunstnerportrætter i Det kgl. Teater........................................ E r ic h B i e r : Augustin Coppens hovedværk................................................................. H a r a l d O l s e n : Tintorettos nadverfremstillinger....................................................... J ø r g e n S t h y r : T o træsnit efter Lucas van Leyden................................................. Mic h e l B e n iso v ic h : H. H. Ploetz et la famille du peintre L iotard...................... G u sta v L o r e n z e n : Et par småfund fra 1770’ernes København............................. T o r b e n H olck Go l d in g : Matthias Ortmanns møbellotterier 1751 og 1752........... S v e n d E r ik s e n : Aristide Maillot..................................................................................... Guy d e T e r v a r e n t : L’inconstance................................................................................ Fortegnelse over illustrationer..................................................................................... Register over kunstnernavne.......................................................................................... 1 27 40 52 92. 100 118 127 143 149 174 224 226 230.

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(9) 1. Christ and the disciples of Emmaus. Painting 1648. Copenhagen.. REMBRANDT’S WAY TO EMMAUS BY. J. Q. VAN REGTEREN ALTENA. orks of art are not always shrines of wisdom, but few visitors to the Copenhagen Gallery can have failed to find or at least to suspect it in Rem brandt’s »Supper in Emmaus« of 1648. Histori cally-minded people may have been struck by the year in which it was painted, and may have opposed in their minds its worldrernotedness to the overwhelming fact of a peace then concluded, the consequences of which for Europe would by far outlast the century. Aesthetically-minded ones may have preferred to judge its appearance from the colours, and have been startled at so trif ling a light to reign over shining dimnesses, and large surfaces of gilt yellow and red partly to absorb it. However, any kind of true human feeling would seem to fail one who would deny its grip on. W.

(10) the mind. So filled with the very spirit of the Gospels, it definitely proves that the year in which it was painted was not of extremely great importance in the political sense only, but that in its own way the peace to which no unbelief was anymore possible, had myste rious connections with immaterial substance, apt to serve huma nity as reserves when the dangers of materialism should threaten the wealthy society to which it, surprisingly, was born. If symbo lising all this, the Copenhagen picture seems to ask for a small room of its own, or for the company of only a few more outstanding works of art, its quality proclaiming a higher category than that to which it was held to belong till today. It is one of what might be called the »curtain-pictures«. The painter suggests that a curtain usually covers the picture, and that it has not completely been drawn aside by the last person wishing to see it. What withheld him? Is it a kind of neglect in that way imputed to him, or did what he beheld arrest the hand of the wondering spectator? Should we understand a command not to try to unveil the mystery altogether? Or was Rembrandt to leave us guessing uncon sciously after what never could be told in words? We are all the more puzzled as curtains thus painted occur in very diverse kinds of Dutch paintings of the time. Both Rembrandt and his contemporaries painted them in the foreground, whereas they used to be painted behind the persons portrayed. In 1639 when working on »the lady with the closed fan« (Amsterdam)') the artist introduced it at a place surprisingly near to the painted arch under which she stands, so as if he already hesitated whether to fix it at its front or not. This he definitely did in his Holy Family at Gassel (1646), that mysterious glorification of the intimacy of happy mother hood, hardly ever surpassed by any painter at all. If in the same year 1648, the etching for Jan Six’s play »Medea« shows a curtain attached to the arches of the temple, it enables us to see clearly the difference between what was meant to belong to the actual facts re presented and what to the frame, painted so as to give an illusion of reality. The Medea curtain betrays its origin from the stage, whereas the frame-curtain, if connection there is, only confirms that an ir regularly defined surface could at timessatisfy better the artist than the more general rectangle.We may believe it the more so by the shape of the Cassels picture with is low arch, crowned by a gable..

(11) The »curtain-pictures« by Rembrandt’s contemporaries are quite different. They vary from church interiors (i.e. by Houckgeest)^), one of the Amsterdam town-hall (de Hooch)^), a reading girl (Vermeer)“*), a self-portrait (Dou)®), a boy courting a girl (Lundens)“) and even women attracting the attention on their nudity (Van der Heist)’). Devaluating to a mere trick the use af a curtain obviously lost its austere original meaning, to be understood from the annunciation in Griinewald’s Isenheimer Altar, where it is so very related to the side-curtain of the gothic altar itself. Do we go too far when supposing that the hangings functioning more or less happily in Dutch 17th century paintings derived altogether from Rem brandt’s earliest ex ample, the which he in his turn decided to paint after realising its value from Dürers woodcut of St. Jerome in his celD)? However this may be, the curtain was introduced into the Supper at Em m aus of 1648. It was only one feature of the change which the theme so often treated by Rembrandt, underwent®). If the spirit in which its author painted it could only have been conceived during a fairly long period of prudently nursed incubation, in a more limited sense its subject seemed to have been prepared by an equally careful development of growing-phases, which we are, happily, able to follow still at the present moment. Trying to do so, we may feel the advantage of that limitation itself, as it enables us to make more precise comparisons between a painter’s works from different periods than widely different themes would allow us to do; comparisons in one word more likely to be based on science, as one of the factors in them is an unchanging constant. This does not mean, though, that the moment at which Christ breaks the bread for the disciples, is the only event which attracted R em brandt’s attention in S. Luke’s account of the miraculous mee ting at Emmaus. He, on the contrary, was the great knower of the Rible, the one who, by constant reading, had assimilated himself with the persons acting in its drama, and who consequently ex perienced how the two disciples had been walking to Emmaus, how Christ had come behind them and had joined them, how he had accompanied them to the inn, and had suggested to go his own way, and how they had begged him not to leave them, but to come with them and have their evening-meal together. In that supposition the drawings illustrating the journey should be read as well as be seen..

(12) They certainly would have been arranged in a different order by the composer of the —unhappily unfinished —codex of Rem brandt’s Drawings'®) if he had done so. He would not have started with the marvellous sketch in the Louvre from Rembrandt’s advanced years"), which shows the three walking towards us in a spacious mount ainous landscape, as they are already in the midst of their march and listening to Christ’s reasoning about the prophets and the things that had happened. If it is not absolutely clear whether the copy after another earlier sheet'^), deals with a previous moment of the jour ney, by the fact that the apostles seem to return themselves towards the one who joins them or if Christ in this drawing advances slowly —for being so absorbed in speaking words of magic —another sketch in the Friedrich August Collection at Dresden, unfortunately a copy too'®), leaves no doubt about the moment which is represented. The two men are not yet aware of the radiating appearance behind them and devise among themselves about their unbearable loss. Rut he is there and comes behind them as the Evangelist says. And he does not come as an ordinary living being; he appears in a circle of light. It is worth while to compare his apparition in exactly this place in the composition, in front of the huge group of trees next to the plants in the left foreground and with the open landscape at the right side, with the arch of the bridge, detaching itself from the mountain on which a tower crowns the silhouette of a town, the entire synopsis, certainly, of these different elements, with a com position of his master Pieter Eastman, an image well known to Co penhagen, which possesses the picture of it'^). So m uch based on unconsciously pre-established patterns which lay dorm ant in the stores of images contained in Rem brandt’s brain, was the connec tion of the bright superhum an figure with that especial place in a similar grouping, that it adapted itself to different subjects, thus providing us with the undoubtable proof that to a certain extent, form was predominant over the real theme. The subject, so to say, easily insinuated itself into the most appropriate scheme at hand among so many possibilities, latent in his mind. If we consider again the Dresden drawing, we may notice another astonishing fact. Small beings at Christ’s side seam to support his figure. Here again we find an analogon in an Old Testament image; when Rembrandt drew God descending towards Abraham'®), he.

(13) 2. Christ and the disciples of Cmmaus. Early painting. Paris, Musée Jacquemart-André.. a -2 r-V-ïL. 3. Christ and the disciples of Emmaus. Early drawing. Valentiner 525.. 4. Christ and the disciples of Emmaus. Etching 1634..

(14) represented him supported by two angels playing the same part there as in the appearance in question! Those companions of the Holy One may derive from Michel-Angelo’s ceiling, but from scriptural translation they have now become exegetical or more justly indi vidual additions. We then may draw another conclusion: not only the pattern of the composition, but also these cherubs are elemenls, originally irrelevant to the subject, but risen from Rem brandt’s subconscience to their proper value. We may feel very near the genius when thus assisting at one of his monologues with the unseen. It should not be supposed that Rembrandt compromised with his own visions when they had once been established. We may notice it once more, when seeing another Louvre drawing^®) and another genuine drawing too, in which the three figures have only been sketched in the extremely slight pen touches which are so characteristic of the years between 1650 and 1660: one of the apostles wears the same hat with the peculiar broad brim , sug gesting the sunshine of a southern country, as in the Dresden drawing”). Here again the pilgrims are slightly turned towards Christ in their midst, whose face intent upon the mystery which he comments, may serve as a classic example of Rem brandt’s gift to summarise a state of mind of very spiritual order in some lines of the floating pen. The end of the journey has come; they arrive at Em m aus’®). Christ, as if to try them, pretends to take leave; the older of the two with his cap in his hand, urgently invites him to their meal, while the other holds him by the arm ; no better illustration to this link in the story’s chain could be found. W'^e are still reminded of the di stance of their walk by the mountains behind them, their entrance to the inn is suggested by the steps towards which they are turning. Such drawings seem to form, so to say, the prologue, partly written subsequently after the work itself had been created and the work itself means in this case the succession of pictures dealing with the miracle which happened when they had supper together. With one impressive creation, perhaps still made before his departure from Leiden to Amsterdam, Rembrandt initiated this series: on a small panel”) the figure of Christ is seen rising as a huge phantastical shadow at the moment in which he vanishes from the sight of one man opening wide his eyes in astonishment.

(15) and from another kneeling at his feet, while his stool has fallen behind him. Just to suggest the quiet meeting of a moment before, the serving woman is made visible by the candle-light in the di stance, in undisturbed occupation. It is not necessary to stress the artists gift as a dramatic poet, but we may observe the predo minance of opposing contrasts as its clue: opposition of the sudden wonder to the daily doings: of the superhum an to humanity, and of the so different reactions of the two disciples. The last fact is perhaps the most astonishing in the young painter, who thereby at once surpassed all his forerunners, from Titian to Rubens: for both those contrasting reactions to the manifestation of divinity, apart from its own impression, impose on our minds its portent. We may point at Elsheimer’s art as to a probable source of the light ing-system in this composition —it does not in any respect diminish the wonderful qualities of this small work of art; it only elucidates the way in which modes of painting travelled from Rome to Leiden. We then may see Rembrandt busy paraphrasing for the first time his own conception, which must have meant creating more diffi culties to himself, having been so accomplished at the first occasion. The situation occupies his mind: in a sketch formerly in Wilhelm von Bode’s collection^") the figure of Christ is still mainly enwrapped in heavy shade; the copy after another scribbling^*) shows him be tween the two companions reacting in a less differentiated way to the offering of the already divided bread. The astonishment of the one has turned into mere fear in a third sheet^^) where Christ addresses himself to one of the two especially. Those drawings prelude the small etching of 1634, in which Christ, so diversely from the former painted majestic mirage, has taken robust human forms. No doubt Rubens’ Jupiter-like appearance of the Redeemer^®) had for a moment impressed the painter of Amsterdam, who, faithful to the model of the humanised god, stressed his real presence when abstaining from the suggestion of his magical disappearance. In thinking of analogies with the origin of mass, we might find Bembrandt approaching the catholic standpoint mostly in this work. We may notice that though improper to the weight of his move ments the corona of light may seem to be, by banishing the shades to the background, Rembrandt succeeded in changing Christ’s figure from dark to lighP)..

(16) 5. The wandering to Emmaus. Drawing, copj-. Dresden.. '~»F4L.,. ^. ■. 6. God reveals himself to Abraham. Drawing ca.l 660. Widener, Philadelphia..

(17) 7. Study for or after Pieter Lastmaii’s painting; The old Tobias and his son kneeling before the angel (Copenhagen). Drawing. Rembrandt Huis, Amsterdam.. 8. The wandering to Emmaus. Valentiner 519. Drawing ca. 1640..

(18) 10. If this does not strike us very much in the etching, it at once falls upon us from a wonderfully phantastical drawing which once be longed to the Ricketts and Shannon collection, with which it was bequeathed to the Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge^"). In an empty armchair, nothing but a light, but a surprisingly bright and yet trans parent spectre seems to be burning as the instantaneous efflorescence of a blinding magnesium-candle, projecting their huge shadows be hind the apostles, who shrink back against the closed windows from such an aifrigttttg spectacle. It is astonishing with how m uch surity the brush washed the greys of the quivering dimnesses beyond the spirit’s affluences, and how undecided it leaves us wondering whe ther a hum an form is still seated in the chair or not. How incredible to think that such a masterpiece could have been called a mere im itation! We only should look at real copies of it’®)at once to grasp how delicate in its subtle evocation the Cambridge draw ing really is. Houbraken had it reproduced in the »Groote Schouwburgh« or worked after a similar original, now lost, and produced »Christ at Emmaus«, with Christ lacking, as a grotesque mockery of what a Rembrandt drawing should be! Meanwhile we should realise that we assisted at very definite changes in Rem brandt’s view on the nature of the miracle. At first a person who had been present, without losing his hum an aspect left his companions in a miraculous way; he further seemed even to tend toward affirming its material presence more especially; whereas its vanishing away is here displayed as the transmutation to its spiritual substance. Only the mystically minded artists of the earlier middle-ages had succeeded in manifesting the exclusively spiritual character of Christ as Rembrandt did, with the exception however that they expressed themselves more or less in symbols whereas Rembrandt did it in realistic images, so that we have no need to translate what he suggests so clearly to our eyes. And in fact, Rembrandt offered the solution of a problem, unsolved by the greatest Italians: the problem of the halo. For the halo derived from a time when each symbol could be translated separately from the allegorical theatre of images. It maintained itself throughout the Renaissance, reluctantly adapting itself to the demand of natu ralness but, even with Tintoretto, remained a bright radiation From an opaque corpus, a mere contradiction in lerminis..

(19) 11. R em brandt’s endeavour from the beginning must have been to dissolve that inconsistency and he found his answer to the question by fusing the substantial masses incorporated in human form with the spiritual one, represented by light. Do we not assert too much by putting the solution in this way? We may control ourselves by testing the idea to other work of his. Dürer had represented Christ chasing the money-lenders from the temple in a wood-engraving, which was certainly known to Rem brandt. W hen the latter borrowed the main figure from his German fore-runner he added the halo to the figure of Christ. Gut he differed from all his predecessors in attributing it to the punish ing hand instead of to the head of Christ^’). He thereby qualified as holy the act done by the man of the spirit. However, though stressing the meaning of the nimbus in that production of the year 1635, he then still adhered to a way of visualisation in which the inconsistency just described remained inherent. In his etching of Doctor Faustus, however, we notice something essentially different. Many doubts concerning its exact meaning have been voiced, but after the investigations of Leendertz among others, we may at present be fairly sure that we see a scene directly borrowed from the popular play of that name, which was performed on the Amsterdam stage in Rem brandt’s time. And we even know that Faustus is represented at the moment in which an angel appears to warn him. Faustus asks, »What bright light shines before my eyes?« and tbe apparition answers; »__ -Wake up, Faustus, satan already beguiled you ...........Leave him, it is still time, direct yourself towards the truth« and Faustus: »...........-Me seems my heart is consumed by a burning fire...« A hand holds up a mirror, so it has been said, either to show the cabbalistic words of the monogram refiecting in it, or the skull: and it has even been suggested that the shadow behind the lower right angle of the window marks the forehead of the angel, instead of the foliage of trees, which it really means to represent; Odilon Redon must have believed in the same idea, for it inspired him.

(20) 12. obviously to similar appearances in a windowfraine. Yet nobody seems to have been aware of the fact that the hands holding up the m irror and pointing at it belong to a human figure, the face of which cannot otherwise than coincide with the disc of light in which the characters are inscribed. Here again, the face of the angel is imma-. 9. The supper of Emmaus. Drawing ca. 1645. Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge.. terialised, as was Christ’s human form, and transfigured in light only; light radiating as from a sun serving as a head to what appears to be a humanlike affluence. The parallel seems to be conclusive: spirit itself was evoked by Rembrandt by the image of light. We even can go further and indicate the source of this discovery: the tenth chapter of the Apocalypse speaks of the angel whose face was like the sun. Dürer^**) to illustrate this surrounded a hum an face with sunbeams, but suggested by his partly human figure the way towards abstraction which Rembrandt followed to its utmost consequences. One painter only came near to Rembrandt in painting Christ’s vanishing apparition: and nobody would have guessed him to have.

(21) 13 been Jan Steen. In a way the jolly croniqueur of gay life even sur passed Rembrandt, whose pictures he may have known ; he depicts the companions having almost fallen asleep under the effect of the prodigy, as if enwrapped in the trance of mystic apperception. It is we, therefore, who just see a glimpse of the living Christ, but they seem to communicate interiorly. That picture if any, may. 10. Doctor Faustus. Etching 1652.. 11. Albrecht Dürer: Scene of the Apoealypse. Wood-cut. 1496-98.. convince us that Rem brandt’s spirit took part in a more widely spread belief, intimately related to the spiritual side of Dutch 17th century culture. We may now turn to the later paintings. They at once establish one fact: the great innovations of Rem brandt’s art had been perfor med ; a hitherto unknown serenity replaces the more dynamic vitality of the works before 1645; a search for more classical harmony and clearness of forms seems to denote the conscious endeavour fully to realise adequacy to those serene feelings. Roth the pictures in the Louvre and in the Copenhagen museum clearly speak of them : the one being the more solemn, the other the more intimate version of the same sacral event. The Louvre picture is the higher one.The sobre and massive architecture with its noble arch.

(22) 14. high above the figure ofChrist furnishes the silent witness to the silent speech below it. The group is strictly balanced though not absolutely symmetrically built up. The contrasts have been fairly eliminated, and remain only in the different forms of surprise from the side of the younger and the older traveller; the reticence of their movements, however, seems to emanate from more subdued perceptions, in harmony with the benign spirit which pervades the room. Where did the conspicuous change of grouping come from? Evidently from a Latin source. Not only had Caravaggio, and following him, had the Utrecht romanists represented the same event with Christ seated in the centre, flanked by both figures, but Rembrandt may even have had another source nearer at hand: the classical repre sentation of the Last Supper itself. Rem brandt’s comments on that grand piece testify how eager he must have been to go at the bottom of the secrets of Italian art. It has been observed that the large chalk-drawing at Dresden, which is fully signed^®) goes back to an anonymous Italian engraving®“) as both contain the dog eating a bone at the right hand side®'). But I do not find any mention of the fact that the remainder of what must have been a still larger sheet®®), now in the London Printroom, con tains some slight reminiscences of quite another interpretation of the Cena: Soutmans’s print after a drawing by Rubens®®). They are: some lines of the drapery behind the group on the right side ofC hrist; the head and the left hand of Peter and the right hand of Christ with all the fingers touching the table. This is rather im portant as it shows from where Rembrandt got the idea of the canopy: introduced in the Dresden page Rubens furnishes it; but the form was partly Dürer’s who already had added a real canopy with a brim in front behind Christ in the small upright Cenacolo of the »Kleine Passion«®®). The so found solution must have pleased Rembrandt, for he repeated the experiment in a later paraphrase of the Last Supper®'). Though it was only in the etching of 1656 that the canopy was definitely introduced in an Emmaus supper by him — the brim being placed exactly as in the print by Dürer just mentioned, the huge background of the Louvre picture combined with the cen tral position of Christ clearly derives from thé Cenacolo, as has been observed by Stechow a. o. It would even be a very tempting idea that one of the pictures, or even both, should contain under.

(23) 15. their surface still more reminiscences of it, and even not to exclude the possibillity that one of them was originally a Last Supper. X rays could only elucidate that question, but if the idea seems rather daring, we can at least guess in the figure of Judas leaning backward. 12. Christ and the disciples of Emmaus. Painting 1648. Le Louvre, Paris.. on Leonardo's table the real prototype of the apostle in the same attitude on both the Louvre and Copenhagen canvasses. The man shrinking from the miracle having thus been connected with the dark apostle, our scene becomes at least relevant not of the appearance only, but also of the inner meaning of a small cenacolo. But he did not mean to depict Judas; he gave him the features of Peter. The amount of reaction upon Christ’s offering seems at once to measure.

(24) 16. the amount of belief in the person reacting and the praying hands of his mate seem to be extremely significant for the contrast formed by both. How well we conceive Rembrandt to have lived with this person for years and years, one of those in whom the conflicts of religious life were incarnate so very clearly for him!. 13. Rubens: Christ and the disciples of Emmaus. Painting. St. Eustache, Paris.. It is also quite in accordance with the ver}^ different meaning of the Louvre picture, that Christ has reacquired his human appearance. He seems to have reached the acme of his discourse, which is a colloquy with the others, who answer by their attitudes and by tbe display of their most essential self. No preacher nor scripture could better scrutinise characters and yet leave blame unsaid than such a picture did, its effect being that we feel almost to be present, aniyet remain conscious of the fact that we admire a work of art. It is rather curious to see how Rembrandt could revivify obsolete forms without betraying so. One of the num erous small heads of Christ, which probably cannot be considered.

(25) 17. as studies for the Louvre picture, as one of them bears the year 1658^) shows Christ gazing with eyes lifted upwards, very much as the sentimental Guido Reni-heads do and even as the Rubens, which he may have known from Swanenburgh’s print. The Rubens picture here reproduced is an original, not recognized as such until. 14. Christ aud the disciples of Emmaus. Etching 1654.. now, as it was hidden away in one of the dark churches of Paris^®). However, that qualification of sentimentality does not apply to R em brandt’s study of the head of Christ. Too full is it of unso phisticated genuine feeling to leave us a moment in doubt about its true meaning. The Rubens in more than one respect furnishes new reasons for reflexion. It shows a new type of serving woman wearing a white cloth on her head, who brings to the younger companion a glass which he seems half to see and half to push away, not to lose sight.

(26) 18. of his master. With Rembrandt that glass at the same time seems to become a kind of paradigm for the Gethsemane chalice. Its bearer seems rather unconscious of what she holds and of what is happening before her. In the Copenhagen picture the servants come in and bring the. 15. Christ and the disciples of Emmaus. Drawing, reversed, ca. 1661. Amsterdam. Valentiner 529.. food. The woman has the same type as the one on Rubens’ canvas, and wears the same headdress. It is as if Rembrandt half consciously had felt the wish to give to those servants a larger share in the holy event. Hardly would he have dallied in the strong illumination of the group, had he not wished to stress an allegorical meaning of this food equally, which made him find at the same time the source of light against which the amazed disciple could contrast as a dark silhouette..

(27) 19. The whole scene seems to suggest after so many years Elsheimer’s spirit again, but how much intensified is the effect of the light and how much simplified at the same time! The disciple seated before the servants very clearly again betrays his origin from the figure in Leonardo’s supper, and even more than in the Louvre picture,. '" l #. I. -. 16. Christ and the disciples of Emmaus. Drawing ca. 1661. Valentiner 529. Amsterdam.. through the dark in which he enwrapped the whole figure. The dog, which we have already met on the drawings where it accompanied the travellers and on the early etching is indistinctly seen to the right. We can now really see, in what a wonderful way that curtain half closed, has been adapted. Costly pictures were covered like this, but the mysteries are likewise protected. Altars in mediaeval times were hidden behind them or shut otf to both sides by curtains. The very close relation of the subject to the sacrement of the supper makes us thus understand, why this picture especially should be entitled to get the curtain, and the more so do we feel how far Ge3*.

(28) 20. rard Dou was under the level of Rem brandt’s spirit when he intro duced the curtain in a self-portrait. In 1654 Rem brandt once looked for the etching needle to tell about Eminaus®').That scene was inexhaustible. Christ’s position and the canopy with its border in front consisting of parallel cords, were definitely borrowed from his own reworking of the Cenacolo, but a window is spared at the utmost right. The seated figure who looks like Peter and whose hat has fallen on his back, lifts his hands in surprise, but the other has risen from his chair and clasps his hands, half in astonishment, half praying. The servant is placed before the table, descending to the cellar. It is a grand spectacle in which, for the first time all the looks, those of the servant included, are definitely directed towards the dignified figure of Christ in the centre. The upright form of the plate stresses the solemnity of the moment. Its combination with the source of light in the centre undoubtedly betrays its origin from another Dürer print: the Emmaus meal from the small Passion, with its curious deviation from the Rible text where it adds two seated figures to those characterised as pilgrims in the foreground^). Especially the form of the long curling locks of Christ as well as of his disciples, the beard so different from the small pointed beard in the pictures described, seem to derive from Dürer’s type. Knowing that Dürer shaped his Christ after his own image, which Rembrandt did not, we are entitled to observe that he unconsciously adapted some traits of the Nuremberg master to his last conception of the risen Saviour. There are, however, some small inconsistencies in this no doubt masterly etched plate, which necessitate further investigation. One of them is, that the risen man hardly seems to belong to the feet on which he is standing. The legs do not quite fit him and the feet seem to have been reworked just to mend the discrepancy. Further more, instead of being very sure straight lines, the rays of the halo surprise us by their uncertain treatment. The latter factor more or less explains itself if we consider a former state of the same print. Some of the ra}'s are yet absent there, and prove to be done afterwards by drypoint-additions. Rut why were they necessary, those final changes? Here a drawing can provide a solution. It is rather amazing that this drawing, now in the Am sterdam Printroom^®), though having been studied over and over..

(29) '. 21. by all the writers on the subject, has never been recognized as the very study for the etching in question. To begin with, let us realise how another etching of the same year 1654 and one of three done on plates of exactly the same size, so as to suggest the idea of a series having been started with the four together, was prepared by an •(y* F >-. 17. The presentation in the temple. Draving about 1663. Valentiner 319.. equally roughly done sketch for its main elements. 1 am thinking of the upright Presentation in the Temple^"), that mysterious fantasy in which the fairy world of theOrient is matched to the moving narrative of the meeting of the old Simeon with the poor parents and their Infant: though not exactly repeated in the definite version all the essential elements of the composition are contained in the drawing'*’). The supposition seems to be justified that the changes took place only when Rembrandt had already begun to etch the image which may be guessed from remains of the former placing of the figures..

(30) 22. Just the same must have been the case with the Amsterdam drawing. Originally Rembrandt meant to have the figures seated by the side of Christ and the servant standing behind them, quite as in the Louvre picture. He then reached another stage of what we might call the ascension to Christian enlightenment by which he no longer kept the servant apart and away from the very miracle, or blind to it, but made him by surprise partake of it. For this he had to make him face Christ instead of remaining behind him, and consequently to bring him to the foreground. His appearance, how ever, even after having been carefully removed by the polishing steel, not only left some traces visible in the background, but also a void in the composition which had been originally designed with one figure rising above the others. To repair the loss, the figure at the left hand, which originally showed a seated altitude was raised on his feet, and thereby got the pose which left us a little bit unsatisfied. We need not go into the details of this manipulation, but it may be appreciated in its general aspect, which means that etching such a plate for the old Rembrandt, who was trained as nobody else in the most subtle possibilities of its technique, signified still experimenting. Experiments, however, becoming at the same time the new act of creation, as if once more with the intuitive needle he thought over how exactly it had been, and how he could say it in the most appropriate language, in the most accomplished form. It has been supposed that Rembrandt knew in later years the only picture which Titian painted of the same event, now a well known possession of the Louvre'*^). In 1654 a print by Chauveau was published after it. Rembrandt could have seen the original only in London or afterwards in Paris. Now, aswehave no reason whatsoever to assume that he visited Paris and as we have recently got to know others, why definitely to dismiss the supposition that Rembrandt visited London before 1654, it seems probable that he became acquainted only with the print immediately after its issue. The coincidence of the dates may even suggest that acquaintance to have given Rembrandt the idea of etching his print. The figure of the standing waiter in the Amsterdam drawing seems to have been exactly taken from its Titian model. A very curious fact remains to be observed: Titian, in his Louvre picture, introduced the Judas from Leonardo’s Cenacolo in the scene at Emmaus. Rembrandt,.

(31) 23. as we experienced, probably did the same, but as far as we know at the present moment, independently from Titian. The two men of genius, though they never knew it, met in the spheres of their most supreme art: when paraphrasing a common forerunner. There is a small chance for the Philadelphia single head of Christ dated 1656, which we already mentioned, to have had a connection. 18. Christ and the disciples of Emmaus. Painting ca. 1661. Le Louvre, Paris.. with the ultimate Emmaus scene we may connect with Rembrandt: the second Louvre picture of the subjecP^). This would provide us with a date for it; and there is at least strong evidence to consider the etching of 1654 as anterior: not only do we meet again with the Christ type with long hair falling down (similar to the Philadelphia head) but it seems also as if beneath the leaden bar dividing the foreground from the actual place where the supper is held, another one descended from the right hand side towards the middle of the foreground. That would mean, that a similar staircase as the one in the print found itself on this picture. And as the etching had been designed in reverse, its placing can only have taken origin after the.

(32) 24. print’s completion and impression. It even seems as if the white cloth hanging over the upper bar were a rem nant of the figure of a servant whose forms might be dimly disappearing in the overpaint. Another indistinct figure seems to lurk in the background behind the apostle. All those indistinct surroundings of the principal scene added to the thick varnish and dirt on its surface enhance its my sterious character: what remained was not much more than golden light falling through the window on the event, sketched in few but very essential strokes. X-rays and cleaning might provide us with a better understanding of what seems to have been a beautiful pic ture'*^). But it does not surpass what Rembrandt had given in the Copenhagen supper at Emmaus. To Danish and foreign students that may remain an object for investigation, but above all it should be widely understood as a work of religious art. NOTES. ✓. Perhaps Saskia. It is rather tempting to suppose her to be represented and her sister Titia afterwards in what seems to be a companion piece: the Buckingham Palace »Ladj”^with the fan«Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Museum, Strasbourg. Museum, Dresden. Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. Sadolin collection, Copenhagen. From 1658. Exhibited at the de Boer Galleries, Amsterdam, 1938, and re produced in the catalogue. From the Braz collection, Paris. Bartsch 114. We are not the first to describe them. In the Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte vol. Ill, 1934, p. 328 sq. W. Stechow dealt with many of them. The present article means to give further material and in some instances a diflerent interpretation. Common to both is the method followed consisting in a re search after chronological develop ment. Besides Stechow dealt with the stages which the subject underwent from the middle-ages up to Bembrandt’s time. 10 W. Valentiner, Rembrandts Hand-. 11 12 12 11. 15 16 17. 18. 19 20 21. 22. zeichnungen, 2. Bd. Stuttgart, Berlin, s. a. p. 76-81. Valentiner, op. cit. n. 521. Stockholm, Valentiner n. 518. Valentiner n. 524. From the Moltke collection. We re produce the drawing given to the Rembrandt house by J. H. J. Mellaert, a part of which: the landscape in the distance, shows a different technique quite remarkably in Rembrandt’s manner. We should consider the pos sibility of him having done it as a copy, when he came to Lastmans studio, shortly after the picture was painted (it shows the year 1624 next to the signature). Dresden, Printroom and Widener Col lection: Valentiner 9 and 10. Valentiner n. 523. It proves connection with the tradi tion: one of the pilgrims on Dürer’s woodcut (B 48) wears a large hat. Drawing in private possession, Valen tiner n. 519. Musée Jacquemart-André, Paris. Valentiner n. 525. Valentiner n. 526. The neither convincing drawing from the Eelking sale, and reproduced in.

(33) 25. 23 24. 25 26. 27 28 29 30 31 32 33. 34. 36. its catalogue (Cologne, 3. June, 1902 No. 108). Curiously enough Rembrandt used it afterwards for the face of Samson in the Dresden picture. Thus differing from the von Bode sketch, for the rest so true a preli minary indication of the composition, if we reckon with the reversed sense of the etching. Valentiner n. 528. Compare Stechow, in the cited article, p. 337, note 32, where the facts are discussed. A picture which seems to derive from Houbraken’s print in the possession of Mr. D. de Graaf, Hilver sum, was unknown to him. Hofstede de Groot, Rembrandt-Bijbel, Amsterdam, 106—10 page 74. Bartsch 70. Valentiner 623 B. Reproduced by Valentiner, 623 A. A. o. Hind, Catal. of Dutch and Fle mish drawings, etc. vol. 1 page 16. Valentiner 624. Bartsch 24. Berlin. Not accepted by Valentiner, but reproduced in the Berlin catalogue of Bock-Rosenberg, as doubtful (n.1369, reprod. on page 177), Probably after 1650. It also occurs in a drawing at the Kunstbaus Zürich, in style not dis similar to Rembrandt, but attributed differently to Eeckhout, Hoogstraeten and Barend Fabritius. (Valentiner, vol II page XLI, abb. 41) Though its com position derives directly from the Dresden page, the dilferent subject made its author, whosoever he may have been, substitute the married couple of Cana for the figure of Christ under the canopy. The whole back ground has been drawn in a broader manner than the figures, so as almost to suggest an addition from Rem brandt’s hand. At all events the dra wing is a direct reaction on Val. 624. Johnson collection, Philadelphia. It belongs to the church Saint Eustache. Paris and w^as exhibited for the first time in the exhibition of the works of art in the Paris churches, 1946 (cat. 64). Since the present article was written it has been published in the Gaz. d. B. a. 88, p. 363 by Bizardel, as a copy of a last original, and in les Arts. Those only who have seen the replica in the Duke of Alba’s Collection can entirely judge how both pictures are interrelated. 37 Bartsch 87. 38 Dürer must have got the idea from Venice, where the Supper at Enimaus was a favourite subject since Bellini had treated it. A picture at Berlin seems to derive from him; the two added figures are characterized as orientals. Afterwards Dürer’s print inspired Giovanni da Asolo (Eglisc S.Louisen l’Ile,Paris)and theBrescian painters (Moretto, Brescia) in its turn. 39 Valentiner 85. Stechow’ is very definite in dating it about 1660. 40 Bartsch 50. Hind points at the concording measurements of the Presen tation, the Descent from the cross, and the Entombment, both with torch light, but he omits to connect the Supper at Emaus with them. Yet the very small difference of dimensions seems not to justify this. 41 Coll. Koenigs, Museum Boymans, Rot terdam. Cp. Valentiner, I, p.319. 42 Comp. Stechow, passim, and espe cially p. 340. 43 It has often been doubted and, if considered as genuine, assigned’ to different years. 44 There is much similarity between this small panel and the larger paint ing, signed van den Eeckhout fecit 16.. in the Galleria d’arte Antica, Palazzo Corsini, Rome. The Louvre picture seems to have been painted before the one of Rome, and if Eeck hout himself was not its painter, it must have been at least its main source of inspiration..

(34) 26. Resumé Rembrandts billede »Christus i Emmaus« fra 1648 i Kunstmuseet hører til den gruppe billeder, hvor et påmalet forhæng antyder, at billedet sædvanligvis er skjult, og at den sidste betragter af en eller anden årsag ikke har trukket det helt til side. Denne type billeder hører til i Rembrandts og hans samtids kunst. Efter tilløb allerede fra slutningen af 1630-erne bryder typen hos Rembrandt definitivt igennem med »Den hellige familie« i Cassel fra 1646, og visse træk tyder på typens afhængighed af teatret. I dens bevidste udformning synes Rembrandt at være ophavsmanden til denne billedtype. For Rembrandt er ikke blot Emmaus-handlingens kulmination, hvor Chri stus bryder brødet for disciplene, af betydning, også forhistorien: Mødet på vejen, turen op til Emmaus, har han behandlet i en række tegninger. På vejen kommer Christus til syne bag disciplene i et lysskær, ikke uligt måden hvorpå Rembrandt lader Gud stige ned til Abraham. Selve hovedhandlingen, nadveren i Emmaus, har hos Rembrandt fået flere udformninger. I et tidligt billede rejser Christus-flguren sig som en enorm skygge i det øjeblik, hvor han forsvinder fra disciplene, i belysningerne måske afhængigt af Elsheimer. Det overnaturlige moment, der her er antydet i Christus-figuren, får sin fulde udformning i en tegning, hvor Christi skikkelse helt er forsvundet til fordel for et strålende lysskær, som fylder den tomme stol. Dette lysskær har han, som en forstærket glorie, anvendt i forbindelse med Christus-figuren ved andre lejligheder; f. eks. i en bibelillustration, Christus renser templet, som viser påvirkning fra Dürer, lader han lyset stråle fra Christi straffende hånd, men det genfindes også i englens lysudstrålende ansigt i Dr. Faustus-raderingen, som atter slutter sig til Dürer. Christi halvt i lys opløste skikkelse genfindes også i et Emmausbillede af Jan Steen. Efter 1645 erstatter en alvorsfuld ro de tidligere, mere dynamiske Emmausbilleder, formodentlig under italiensk indflydelse fra Caravaggio-kredsen eller Utrechter romanisterne, og påvirket af et helt andet billedtema: Den sidste nadver. I Louvres Emmaus-billede stammer baldakinen fra et Soutmanstik efter en Rubens-tegning forestillende den sidste nadver, måske går dette endog tilbage til Dürers lille passion, hvor Christus også troner under en baldakin ved nadveren. Baldakinen i et Emmaus-billede hos Rembrandt op træder første gang i en radering fra 1656, sluttende sig nært til Dürers oven nævnte nadverfremstilling. Måske er ovenikøbet et af Rembrandts Emmausmalerier oprindeligt påbegyndt som et nadverbillede. I Kunstmuseets Emmaus-billede bringer en tjenestekvinde den yngste dis cipel et glas — hun er af samme type som tjenestekvinden i et nyfundet Rubens-billede forestillende nadveren i Emmaus — og glasset bliver en art lignelse på kalken fra Gethsemane have. Tjenestefolkene bag disciplene viser, at udformningen går helt tilbage til Leonardos nadver. I raderinger fra 1654 er der igen tale om påvirkning fra Dürer, fra den lille passions Emmausbillede, og måske også fra Tizians Emmaus-billede i Paris, hvor Rembrandt dog aldrig var, men Tizians billede blev stukket netop 1654 af Chanveau..

(35) JULIUS LANGE OG ANTIKKEN AF. OTTO GELSTED. J. ulius Langes hovedværk »Billedkunstens Fremstilling af Men neskeskikkelsen« — eller som han undertiden spøgende kaldte det: »Menneskeslægtens Ødelæggelse« — har haft en ejendommelig skæbne. De to første bind udkom i videnskabernes selskabs skrifter, 1892-98 men fik ikke des mindre en usædvanlig stor læsekreds og blev hurtigt udsolgt. Bogen bragte ham til og med international berømmelse især på grund af den fremsatte frontalitetslov. Man kan endnu se barn citeret i kunsthistoriske skrifter, ligesom man kan se hans broder lægen Carl Lange citeret i skrifter om æstetik psykologi på grund af hans bøger »Om Sindsbevægelser« og »Bi drag til Nydelsernes Fysiologi«. Det tredie afsluttede bind af Julius Langes værk udkom efter hans død i en pietetsfuld redaktion af Peter Købke udenfor videnskabernes selskabs puplikationer og i fragmentarisk skikkelse. Den splittede udgivelsesmåde bidrog til, at dette hovedværk indenfor dansk humanistisk litteratur ikke fik en lignende klassisk betydning som Brandes’ »Hovedstrømninger« og Troels Lunds »Dagligt Liv«. Så meget mere grund er der til igen at trække værket frem i lyset. Det smukkeste ville nu være, at jeg først gav en fremstilling af Langes hovedtanker uden at tilføje nogen kritik. Men det ville let medføre en del gentagelser. En særlig kritik af Lange, der er frem sat af W ilhelm W anscher i hans skrift fra 1914 »Grækernes Syn på Kunst«, vil jeg behandle under eet. Langes udgangspunkt var det simple, at intet af hvad historien frembyder for studiet er vigtigere for mennesket end netop menne sket. Derfor fattede han, allerede som ung, den plan at gennem arbejde en fremstilling af, hvorledes kunsten i hele sit forløb har fremstillet menneskeskikkelsen: først og fremmest fra den ydre, den legemlige side og derigennem også fraden indre, sjælelige. Et sådant længdesnit gennem kunsthistorien giver et vigtigt bidrag til den 4*.

(36) 28. menneskelige selvbevidstheds historie, og De ser, hvor berettiget det var, når jeg betegnede værket som humanistisk. Det er også tydeligt hvilken dyb personlig interesse der besjælede arbejdet, selv om Lange nok til tider kunne betegne al beskæftigelse med kunst som et surrogat for liv. Han har ved andre lejligheder kaldt menne skefigurens historie for »mit egenlige Kærneliv«. Når nu Lange søger grundlaget for et naturligt system i kunst historien, finder han det i den menneskelige interesse eller værdi følelse, som kunstværket er udtryk for. Han vil studere den tendens, den vilje, den mening, hvori kunstneren har opfattet figuren, hans levende kunstneriske forhold til opgaven. Her har vi altså selve fundamentet for Langes kunstbetragtning. Jeg vil nu fremdrage nogle mere specielle — men alligevel meget omfattende — refleksioner, han anstiller. Vigtigt er her et begreb han har præget: indledningskiinsten. Den første store periodegrænse i den historie han fremstiller, ligger ikke ved begyndelsen af den græske kunst men midt inde i den. Hele den græske kunst før perserkrigene henfører han til verdenskunstens indledningsperiode. Til indledningsperioden henregner han al pri mitiv billedkunst fra naturfolkene i alle verdensdele, desuden kun sten fra kulturfolkene i Amerika før europæernes indvandring og fra Ægypten og det vestlige Asien i oldtiden, navnlig før Alexander den Stores tid. Alene med hensyn til det store østasiatiske kultur område tager han et forbehold og kommer heller ikke nærmere ind på den. Han forstod den ikke. Efter Langes syn har den europæiske kunst overfløjet al den kunst, der oprindelig har udviklet sig i andre verdensdele. Fra den kan vi, som fra toppen af et højt træ, se ned på alt, hvad den øvrige menneskehed, der ikke er blevet delagtig i den, har frembragt af menneskebilleder, som på et stort krat af lavere vækster. Her er et af de punkter, hvor Langes opfattelse nu må forekomme diskutabel eller forældet. Han ville nok undre sig — ogjeg er tilbøje lig til at tro, at han ville rynke brynene misbilligende — dersom han så, hvor det han kaldte indledningskunst breder sig på siderne i moderne kunsthistorier. Vi vurderer nu ægyptisk og arkaisk græsk kunst, ja negrenes fetischer anderledes og meget højere end Lange gjorde. Her er sket et opsving og en udvidelse i kunstopfattelsen, som har sat sig dybe spor også i den frembringende kunst. Selvom Lange.

(37) 29. ikke ville billige denne revolution, vil vi gerne tro at den betyder et væsenlig fremskridt i menneskelig forståelse, i den humanistiske ånd, som også Lange hyldede. Lange delte i nogen grad sin tids almindelige fordomme, som vi utvivlsomt deler mange af vor tids vrangforestillinger. Den græske kunst efter perserkrigene og høj renæssancens kunst stod som uopnåelige toppunkter. I nogen grad har Langes syn også været påvirket af den fra naturhistorien over tagne udviklingslære. På dette punkt er man efterhånden både in denfor kunsthistorie og litteraturhistorie blevet meget forsigtige med ikke at bruge falske analogier. — løvrigt kom Lange på grund af det snævre i hans kunstsyn allerede i et modsætningsforhold til sine efterfølgere. Karl Madsen skrev en bog om Japan, hvis kunst Lange kun fandt kuriøs, og en bog om hollandsk maleri, der syntes Lange en alm uekunst sammenlignet med grækernes. Emil Hannover udgav et værk om Watteau, men Lange ringeagtede rococcoen og dens nipsfigurer som udtryk for en moralsk fordærvet overklasses manierethed. Som afgørende for indledningskunstens statueform betragtede Lange det forhold, han definerede i sin berømte lov om/roufø/ifeie/i. Senere kritikere har rokket ved den, men der kan næppe være tvivl om, at den har så stor almengyldighed som man med rette kan forlange af en kunsthistorisk lov. I korthed går den ud på, at det m idtplan, som kan tænkes lagt på langs gennem legemet, altså gen nem rygrad, isse, næse, brystben, navle, kønsdele, og som deler det i to symmetrisk formede halvdele, ikke kommer ud af sin plane holdning, ikke bøjes eller drejes til nogen side. Kritiken har angrebet Lange for, at han noget for stærkt hævder sin prioritet til denne lov, og at han navnlig ikke anfører Winckelm ann i denne forbindelse. Det er også rigtigt, at allerede Winckelm ann fremhæver, at kunsten hos alle folkeslag synes at være udsprun get på samme måde — Julius Langes indledningskunst! — og han antyder frontalitetsloven som indledningskunstens hovedprincip: »Den ældste Skikkelse af Figurerne,« siger W inckelmann, »lignede i Stilling og Holdning den ægyptiske, og Strabo betegner deres Mod sætning med et Ord, der egentlig betyder drejet, og som hos ham betyder Figurer der ikke længere, som i ældste Tider, var helt lige op og ned (völlig gerade) og uden al Bevægelse men stod i alle Slags Stillinger og Handlinger...« W inckelmanns bemærkning kan dog.

(38) 30. ikke ses at gøre noget større skår i Langes reputation. Til hvilken videnskablig lov eller teori kan der ikke opspores forgængere, og det er i alt fald Lange der har præget ordet frontalitet, givet loven dens udformning og skaffet den udbredt gyldighed. På baggrund af frontalitetsloven fremhæver Lange grækernes selvstændighed. Kulturfolkene i Afrika og Asien var jo i tiden langt forud for grækerne med hensyn til kunstneriske resultater. Grækerne har haft mange forbilleder fra andre nationer at danne sig efter. Men hvor det gjaldt om det vigtigste af alt for billedkunsten: at fremstille menneskeskikkelsen, udviklede de en aldeles selvstæn dig og ejendommelig vilje, og her finder Lange den sande begyn delsen til den græske kunst. Grækerne fremstillede statuen aldeles befriet for alt, som ikke er den menneskelige skikkelse selv og bort kastede alt det, som havde gjort statuen til et stykke plastisk arkitek tur: rygpiller, forbindelsesplader o. s. v. Det betegner et nyt syns punkt, et nyt princip. Efterhånden opløses den frontale stivhed helt. Nyt var det også at grækerne uden sky fremstillede den menneske lige skikkelse fuldkommen nøgen. Det beroede ikke på nogen fra en naturtilstand nedarvet vane, men var tværtimod noget, de havde indført — ikke fra fremmede men af egen national tilskyndelse — til trods for gammel skik og fordom. I »Republikken« siger Platon udtrykkeligt, at det ikke var længe siden at det forekom hellenerne forargeligt og latterligt (aiøxøa xai yEXoTa) at se mænd nøgne. Det er atletikken, der har ført nøgenheden ind i græsk liv, men det er åben bart at nøgenheden fik den højeste æstetiske værdi. Lange advarer imod at forveksle den græske nøgenhed med rousseauske forsøg på at drømme sig tilbage til en naturtilstands ynder og behageligheder, og den må heller ikke opfattes som noget, der ligner det nittende århundredes naturalisme. Vel deklareredes der ved nøgenheden et godt og tillidsfuldt forhold til menneskets natur. Men den opfattedes ikke naturalistisk men etisk og politisk. Man bør mærke sig de to adjektiver, de er meget betegnende for Langes holdning. Den græske kunst er for Lange bestemt af et menneskeideal og et samfundsideal. Morsomt kommer Langes opfattelse af det etiske indhold i det plastiske frem i en lille særundersøgelse, som han i 1889 meddelte i filologisk-historisk samfund. Det drejer sig om betydningen af ordet: TeTQdycovo;. Det bruges af Simonides i hans af Platon (i Protagaras) anførte vers: »Det er vanskeligt i Sandhed at blive en dygtig.

(39) 31. Mand, firkantet på Hænder og Fødder og a f Tænkemåde, et dadelløst Værk.« Der kan ikke være rimelig tvivl øm, at der med verset hen tydes til de arkaiske atletstatuers ejendømmeligt firkantede form, der sikkert hænger sammen med den særlige teknik der brugtes ved deres udhugning af stenen. Men karakteriseres det fuldkommne legeme som firkantet, så er der efter gammel græsk tankegang ikke noget forunderligt i, at der også i rosende betydning tales om at være firkantet på sjælen. Legemet er det første før betragtningen, men sjælen opfattes ikke i modsætning til legemet — derfor er også plastik og etik inderligt sammenknyttede, løvrigt gør Lange i denne forbindelse en bemærkning, der viser at han meget godt kunne gøre sig førestillinger om, at den arkaiske kunst ikke behøver at skyldes udelukkende ubehjælpsomhed. Det firkantede snit på statuerne kan have været mere end fejltagelse og kluntethed. Han finder det endda rimeligt at antage, at det har været noget som man ville have sådan og som man har haft sin mening med, når man ser den rolle det firkantede snit spiller i den gamle plastik. Det modbevises heller ikke af, at man efterhånden søgte at frigøre sig derfor og til sidst helt fjernede det: den gamle opfattelse af det atletiske ideal blev jo overhovedet i alte henseender omstøbt. Men på den tid var figuren sikkert fuldt ud ment i alle sine træk. Den ene mening øg det ene ideal afløser det andet. Måske er Lange her kommet lidt i strid med sin egen almindelige teori om indledningskunstens ufuldkommenhed. Til gengæld har han nærmet sig meninger, der gøres gældende af nyere kunsthistori kere, således Lionelli Venturi, der aldrig bliver træt af at indskærpe, at kritikeren vel må vogte sig for at opstille generelle regler, så han dømmer den ene kunstner efter den andens kunstvilje, den ene kunst epoke efter den andens skabende syn og formende kraft. Nogle flere udtalelser i samme retning vil jeg senere få lejlighed til at anføre som et korrektiv til Langes ensidige syn på kunstens højdepunkter. Det ville føre alt for vidt, dersom jeg skulle følge Lange på hele hans vandring op gennem den græske kunst. Sin begejstring for det femte århundrede i Grækenland og især i Athen har han udtrykt i denne sammenfattende sætning: »Paa een Gang fremtraadte en Række Aandsvirksomheder, der alle havde Mennesket til Genstand: den dramatiske Digtning og den sceniske Kunst, den første Historieskriv ning og filosofiske Betragtning af Menneskelivet og en ny Billedkunst,.

(40) 32. som rummede Livets frie Bevægelse — dermed skete det mægtigste Frem skridt i almen menneskelig Selvbevidsthed, som Historien har oplevet.« Særlig dvæler han ved Parthenonfrisen som et udtryk for hvad Athens folk var for sin egen tanke, en ideal afspejling af det i den bedste periode. Det var tanken om menneskets alt overvejende betydning, som var det sejrrige, demokratiske Athens nye indskud i menneskehedens historiske udvikling. Og til den er Parthenon den bedste kunstneriske illustration. Her nyder kunsten sin nye frihed i bredfuldt mål, og kunstens frihed vil jo ikke sige andet end livets egen frihed, menneskets selvbestemmelsesret, som ikke hørte hjemme i de orientalske monarkier men i det unge helleniske demokrati. Nydelsen af enkeltmands frihed føles helt ud i figurernes finger spidser. Det er atter et etisk-politisk ideal, der af Lange opleves som kunstværkets indhold. Den kritiske reaktion mod Julius Lange kom kräftigst til orde i det nævnte skrift af W anscher. Det er meget polemisk, og det kan stå som eksempel på den strømkæntring der også andre steder var indtrådt i europæisk kunstkritik. W anscher anfører Langes definition af stil: »Stil er en i alle sine Yt ringer konsekvent sammenhængende Afvigelse fra Naturen, bestemt ved en given åndelig Synsmåde, en udpræget subjektiv Opfattelse af Virkeligheden.« Som eksempel fremhæver Lange den lige omtalte Parthenonfrise, der ikke giver realistisk besked om hvordan optrin net i virkeligheden log sig ud, men derimod giver os den mening, den ånd hvori Athenæerne ville se sig selv som folk. Herimod indvender Vilhelm Wanscher, at det subjektive var romantikernes idé, ikke grækernes — men ordet subjektiv spænder jo over et vidt felt, og det var ingenlunde Langes mening at skubbe grækerne en rent vilkårlig subjektivitet, en romantisk ironi i skoene. Der er hos Lange tale om en samfundsånd, ikke om et udslag af et vilkårligt og selvherligt jegs frie luner. Endnu klarere kommer modsætningen mellem de to kunsthisto rikere frem, når W anscher skriver: »Hvor Lange saa et filosofisk historisk Forhold mellem det græske kultiverede Folk og den omgivende solrige Natur, saa Grækerne selv en Række af tekniske Problemer, hvis Løsning og Oprindelse tilskreves berømte Mestre i ældre og nyere Tid.« Men denne bestemmelse er altfor ensidig, hvad de opbevarede ytringer af græsk kunstkritik tydeligt viser. Lange.

(41) 33. støtter sig således med rette til Xenofons erindringer om Sokrates, samtalen med maleren, hvor Sokrates kræver at kunsten også skal udtrykke »Sjælsstorhed og Frimodighed, Maadehold og Forstandig hed eller Overmod og Trods gennem Ansigtet, Holdningen og Men neskets Stilling og Bevægelse.« Når endelig Julius Lange priste grækernes samfundsideal — det at kunsten gennemtrængte hele samfundet og atter af det fremgik som en ny kultur — finder W anscher at han betræder en farlig vej ved efter W inkelmanns eksempel at vælge dette dydige syn på kunst. Men det er tvivlsomt om W anchers kritik holder stik, og om det ikke lå dybt i grækerne at sætte det gode og skønne i forbindelse med hinanden. Måske er Langes opfattelse slet ikke så uvidenska belig og det er tværtimod W anscher der er inde på en moderne teoretisk ensidighed. For at vurdere Wilhelm W anschers kritik rigtigt, er det klogt at sætte den ind i sin sammenhæng med lignende tankegange i hans samtid. Man kan minde om Conrad Fiedler, der kan siges at have skabt teorien om den rene anskuelighed. Han tog afstand både fra den snævre arkæologiske skole — som Lange forresten heller ikke havde meget tilovers for — og fra forsøgene på at opfatte kunsten som et udtryk for tidens ånd og folkets karakter, altså Taines teori, som han karakteriserer som fantastisk. Kunsthistoriens opgave er udelukkende at efterspore og forstå de forskellige anskuelighedslove, der behersker kunstværkerne. Rafael, Michelangelo, Correggio, Leo nardo, Tizian skabte hver på sin vis og udtrykte hver sin forskellige erfaring — man kan ikke foretrække den ene for den anden. De var alle skabende og havde deres selvstændige skabende vision. Ander ledes forholder det sig med epigonkunstnerne, der tror at man kan klare sig ved at lære et ganske bestemt mønster udenad. Ligesom Conrad Fiedler fremhævede Alois Riegl at den synsmæs sige opfattelse af billedkunst ikke tillader opstillingen af generelle regler. Hans hovedord er kunstvilje i modsætning til den rent tek niske evne til at efterligne naturen. Hvad der skal bedømmes i et kunstværk er kunstnerens skabende evne. Også Woelfflin kan næv nes, når han hævder at der i hver ny stil er udkrystalliseret en ny opfattelse af verden. Det ses let at der hos disse kritikere er udviklet synsmåder, der rum m er en kritik af Lange. De nyere kritikere er blandt andet min-.

(42) 34. dre absolutte end Lange var. For W anschers vedkommende er det et hovedpunkt, at han finder Langes opfattelse for meget psykologisk og for lidt formel. Han kunne have støttet sig på en ytring af Platon i Filebos, der går ud på, at »hvis man af alle kunster fjerner det, der kan tælles, måles og vejes, bliver resten i hvert af dem sandt at sige flov.« En helt moderne kritiker som Roger Fry, der døde i 1934, betonede i tilslutning til Cézannes og kubisternes maleri den absolutte værdi af den abstrakte form, uafhængig af det følelses mæssige indhold og virkelighedsgengivelsen. Og så opdager vi da, at vi med modsætningen Lange-Wanscher er havnet i en velkendt æstetisk adskillelse. Vi kan finde den hos Kant, når han skelner mellem fri skønhed og tilknyttet skønhed. Fri skønhed er den, der i sig selv intet betyder — f. eks. et a la grecque ornam ent — tilknyttet, associativ skønhed er den, der findes hos en kvinde, en hest, en bygning, hvor der forudsættes en forestilling om hensigt, der bestemmer hvad tingen bør være — en forestilling om fuldkommenhed. Ja, vi kan træffe denne æstetiske dualisme hos selve oldtidens kunstskribenter. Lukian, der bavde tænkt på at blive billedhugger, giver en beskrivelse af maleren Xeuxis’ kentaurfamilie og tilføjer en principiel betragtning. Han siger; »Jeg er ikke Connaisseur nok til at bedømme dette Maleris synlige Skønheder. Det er en Opgave for Malere og for dem, der er Kendere af Prolfession, at prise de for skellige Dele, der udgør et fuldendt Maleri: f. eks. Tegningens Rig tighed, Farvens Sandhed, Virkningen af Lys og Skygge, Størrelser nes Nøjagtighed og den almindelige Harmoni. Min Opgave er at vise, hvordan Xeusis lagde hele Geniets Rigdom for Dagen ved at give Kentauren et frygteligt og vildt Udseende, der m inder om de berømte thessaliske Heste.« Lukian refererer også en anekdote om Xeuxis, der blev vred da han blev rost på grund af det nye i et sujet og ikke for den dygtige udformning. Det er, siger en moderne kritiker som Leonelli Venturi, kritikkens opgave at overvinde denne dualisme, at forstå hvordan det psykologiske udtryk og kunstnerens vision udtrykker hans sær lige følemåde. Men for at indføle sig psykologisk i kunstværket be høver kritikeren ikke en ny videnskab, han har den almindelige psykologi, som han blot behøver at træne sig op til at bruge på sit særlige stof. Derimod findes der ikke på forhånd nogen videnskab.

(43) 35. om kunstens formelle elementer. Den må kunsthistorikeren og kri tikeren selv udarbejde, og den eneste vej han kan gå er at studere kunstnerens værker. Nogen generel metode, der kan dække negerfetischen, den arkaiske skulptur, parthenonfrisen, en gotisk madonna eller et impressionistisk og et kubistisk maleri lader sig ikke opstille. Det var en vildfarelse af Aristoteles, når han mente at linjen er nødvendig i maleriet og farven tilfældig. Linje og farve er to udtryks m idler og ikke kunsten selv, den ene faktor har lige så stor værdi som den anden, og enhver forkærlighed er vilkårlig. I almindelighed sagt forekommer det mig, at Julius Lange har vist stor forståelse af de skiftende kunstepoker, selvom hans kærlig hed til højantiken og renæssancen undertiden virker som skyklapper. Han omtaler ofte Rembrandt med beundring, og alligevel kan hans fordom få ham til at tage de mærkeligste forbehold overfor ham: »Rembrandt kan sammenlignes med en stor Taler — næsten den største af alle — der har det Uheld at tale Dialekt: jysk eller fynsk eller sådan noget. Det vil sige der klæber visse Mangler ved hans Dannelse, mens han i alt det overordnede er så overordnet......... Og dog: Lignelsen halter: den Dannelse i Formens Adel, som han fuldstændigt mangler, kan ikke kaldes underordnet.« Man ser ikke at en sådan kritik bringer forståelsen af Rembrandt et hanefjed videre, og der var sandelig malere nok i Nederlandene, der ødelagde deres talent ved at søge at indføle sig i en klassisk maner, der var deres naturel aldeles fremmed. Jeg har nu belyst nogle hovedpunkter i Langes kunstopfattelse, og jeg har taget stilling til den kritik, der er rejst imod ham af en repræsentant for en nyere retning indenfor kunstkritiken. Lejligheds vis har jeg også anført nogle udtalelser af antike forfattere. Nogen gennemført græsk kunst-æstetik eller kunsthistorie foreligger ikke, en række citater kan findes hos Overbeck: Schriftquellen zur Geschichte der bildenen Künste. Men de er ofte meget d unkle og diskutable og vel egnede til at sætte filologer og kunsthistorikere grå hår i hovedet. En samlet fremstilling af græsk æstestik på grundlag af kildeste derne har Lange ikke forsøgt at give. Man kan dog nok fremdrage nogle principper, der åbenbart har været vigtige, og undersøge hvor vidt Lange har taget hensyn til dem eller ikke. Det drejer sig om tre hoved-begreber; Mimesis, Kalokagathia og Sgmmetri..

(44) 36. 1) Mimesis kan oversættes med efterligning eller fremstilling af naturen, og man kan nok undre sig over de mange anekdoter, der fortæller om græske billedværker, som forbløffede datiden ved deres illusionsmæssige naturtroskab, historier om bier der fløj hen og satte sig på det malede billede af nogle blomster. En sådan art af virkelighedsgengivelse er vi vant til at henvise til panoptikon, og man undrer sig over at et så kunstnerisk folk som grækerne har kunnet tillægge den så stor værdi. Goethe kalder et sted at roses for naturtroskab for »ein Dilettantenlob«, men grækerne fremfører denne ros gang på gang, så vi må finde os i det og søge en historisk forklaring. Julius Lange har her nogle kloge ord, der fuldt ud viser, at han er på det rene med efterligningernes betydning for grækene. Han siger: »I alle Tilfælde, hvor det gælder om at gøre sig noget objektivt, hvormed vi stifter Bekendtskab gennem Sanserne, bevidst, benytter vi først og fremmest Efterligningen som Middel. At man bærer sig saadan ad beror paa en Naturlov for Bevidstheden, en Lov som aldrig kan ophæves.« Lange ville have haft svært ved at gou tere de abstrakte malere, når de erklærer at deres billeder hverken skal have noget med følelse eller natur at gøre, sådan som man nylig kunne læse i kataloget til udstillingen »Linien II«. Også her rører vi altså ved et problem, der stadig må siges atvære højaktuelt, og som jeg må nøjes med at pege på. At mimesis-princippet har haft betydning for den kunsthistoriske vurdering hos de gamle, kan vi se hos kritikeren Xenokrates fra det tredie århundrede. Allerede hos ham møder vi forestillingen om en udvikling i den forstand, at de tidligere kunstnere ikke har kunnet fremstille et eller andet. Han priser Polyklet for at han har ladet figu ren støtte på det ene ben {uno erure insistere), men bebrejder ham at hans figurer alligevel er for monotone. Myron overgår h am i variation men forslår endnu ikke at fremstille hovedhår og således videre. 2) Det andet græske kunstkritiske begreb vi vil fæste opmærk somheden Tpker katokagathia.OråeX er sammensat af de to adjektiver kalos og agathos, skøn og god, og kalokagathos brugt om en mand betyder den højeste ros. Hvor Julius Lange diskuterer begrebet, gør han opmærksom på at kalokagathia oprindelig kun er en anden side af det levende legemes fuldkomne funktionsdygtighed. Menne sket betragtes under samme synsvinkel som en brugsting — en skøn og duelig løber, en skøn og dygtig bryder, et skønt og brugbart.