He had nearly finished it, when intelligence was
brought him of the death of a tame ape which he greatly loved. The
creature had fallen off the roof of the house into the street.
Without interrupting his work, Rembrandt burst into loud
lamentations, and after some time announced that 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.
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