DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.48088#0057
THE WRITING MASTER.
by Gerard Dow.
Amongst the master-pieces of Dutch art, there are few which convey such soft and charming
impressions, as the works of Gerard Dow. While, in the pictures of his contemporaries, scenes
from low, and even from vulgar life, are intruded with an intentional contempt of refinement,
the artistic conceptions of Dow are pervaded by the softest harmony, and breathe a poetic
inspiration in accordance with his own character.
Dow confined himself strictly to truth, more strictly perhaps than any other painter, and
elaborated the minutest details with wonderful care; he was the Dutch painter who spent
three days in representing a common broom-stick. But by means of this scrupulous accuracy,
and perfect rendering of the most unimportant details, Dow attained a marvellous eminence in
his special branch of art. He represented the infinite pleasures of secluded existence, the rich
joy and delightful rest of home life.
The Writing Master is a finished pearl of Dow’s art. Every stroke, every line in the picture
is replete with life; and quiet repose united with the serenest self-satisfaction, are here, if ever,
portrayed with poetic mastery. It is pre-eminently a picture which cannot be critically described,
but which requires to be felt; and its meaning can only be fully appreciated by an endeavour
while gazing at it, to recall some poetical episode of still life. Thus alone it becomes possible
to grasp the characteristic spirit of Dow’s works.
Gerard Dow could not find the originals for his creative fancy, where Teniers, Ostade,
Brouwers, and Begas found theirs, in any village, or sailor’s tavern. He needed special char-
acters and situations which should be at once individual and unassuming, and these prototypes
he found in the interiors of household life. Such an original was discovered by Gerard Dow’s
daughter Duyveke, a girl of sixteen, in an old Franciscan cloister, converted into a school for
poor children. There was here a narrow street, called the “Jews’ Street,” although it was well
known that, for a long time, Amsterdam had allowed no children of the promised land, within
its jurisdiction. The arched windows of the cloister looked out on this dismal street, and before
that window most favoured by rays of sunlight, sat, from early morning to late at night, Raphael
Huelst, the writing-master of the school. This silver-headed septuagenarian occupied a yet more
important position; he copied records and other documents for the Chancery of the States
General, with the skill of older days, a skill then almost extinct. Duyveke flew to her father,
and described in such betwitching terms old Raphael Huelst, with his fur cap, his tight spectacles,
by Gerard Dow.
Amongst the master-pieces of Dutch art, there are few which convey such soft and charming
impressions, as the works of Gerard Dow. While, in the pictures of his contemporaries, scenes
from low, and even from vulgar life, are intruded with an intentional contempt of refinement,
the artistic conceptions of Dow are pervaded by the softest harmony, and breathe a poetic
inspiration in accordance with his own character.
Dow confined himself strictly to truth, more strictly perhaps than any other painter, and
elaborated the minutest details with wonderful care; he was the Dutch painter who spent
three days in representing a common broom-stick. But by means of this scrupulous accuracy,
and perfect rendering of the most unimportant details, Dow attained a marvellous eminence in
his special branch of art. He represented the infinite pleasures of secluded existence, the rich
joy and delightful rest of home life.
The Writing Master is a finished pearl of Dow’s art. Every stroke, every line in the picture
is replete with life; and quiet repose united with the serenest self-satisfaction, are here, if ever,
portrayed with poetic mastery. It is pre-eminently a picture which cannot be critically described,
but which requires to be felt; and its meaning can only be fully appreciated by an endeavour
while gazing at it, to recall some poetical episode of still life. Thus alone it becomes possible
to grasp the characteristic spirit of Dow’s works.
Gerard Dow could not find the originals for his creative fancy, where Teniers, Ostade,
Brouwers, and Begas found theirs, in any village, or sailor’s tavern. He needed special char-
acters and situations which should be at once individual and unassuming, and these prototypes
he found in the interiors of household life. Such an original was discovered by Gerard Dow’s
daughter Duyveke, a girl of sixteen, in an old Franciscan cloister, converted into a school for
poor children. There was here a narrow street, called the “Jews’ Street,” although it was well
known that, for a long time, Amsterdam had allowed no children of the promised land, within
its jurisdiction. The arched windows of the cloister looked out on this dismal street, and before
that window most favoured by rays of sunlight, sat, from early morning to late at night, Raphael
Huelst, the writing-master of the school. This silver-headed septuagenarian occupied a yet more
important position; he copied records and other documents for the Chancery of the States
General, with the skill of older days, a skill then almost extinct. Duyveke flew to her father,
and described in such betwitching terms old Raphael Huelst, with his fur cap, his tight spectacles,