The Night Watch symbolized for Rembrandt a bringing together of
everything that had come before, but simultaneously a new beginning. He unfolded
in this, probably his most famous work, an astonishing, fascinating virtuosity,
the effect of which is as great today as then. The execution of the details
alone - the splendidly gleaming metal, the shimmering cloth, the various pieces
of equipment - and, even more so, the fashioning of the eloquent facial
expressions, succinct gestures and dazzling lighting effects are artistic in the
highest degree. The possibilities inherent in a depictive representation would
seem to have been exhausted. A likeness of The Night Watch may be found in the
album of Captain Frans Banning Cocq, the "Seigneur of Purmerlandt and II-pendam",
accompanied by the following text: "Sketch of the picture in the Great Room of
the Cloveniersdoelen (Civic Guard House), wherein the young Seigneur of
Purmerlandt as Captain gives orders to the Lieutenant, the Seigneur of
Vlaerdingen, to have his company march out". The picture bore no other
title. The name The Night Watch did not arise until the beginning of the 19th
century. The likeness shows the painting in the state in which it hung in the
hall of the Civic Guard building along with six further large works depicting
the Guard by other artists. The painting was trimmed at the beginning of the
18th century in order that it could be hung in a smaller town-hall chamber. The
sensation caused by this immense picture of almost four by five metres can be
imagined. However, some of those portrayed appear to have considered themselves
to have been represented less favourably than they had expected: Rembrandt later
added an oval plaque bearing a list of names, which he placed in rather
unmotivated fashion in the right-hand corner of the archway. The reproduction in
the album shows the picture in its original state prior to this addition.
It can be seen at first glance that Rembrandt gives the presentation of the
general event priority over a faithful working-out of the individual portraits.
The foreground is dominated by the marching figures of the Captain and the
Lieutenant. The Captain's extended hand and slightly opened mouth indicate that
he is speaking; in doing so, he does not look at the Lieutenant, who is
receiving the order. Figures to right and left of the archway are also engaged
in conversation, while under it the standard-bearer is raising his standard. Men
with helmets and hats are carrying swords and spears; some of them also bear
round shields and are wearing gorgets. A number of the men are in the act of
taking hold of the spears propped against the building wall to the right, while
others continue to press forward through the archway. A boy wearing a helmet
that is far too big for him is depicted in the left-hand foreground; he is
running away with an empty powder horn, half-turning back in mid-stride. A
musketeer clad in red stands next to him, loading his gun. To his
right, half-hidden by the Captain, a form in baggy breeches with an
oak leaf-garlanded helmet can be seen side-on, striding out with big
steps towards the right and lifting his gun, the muzzle of which is
visible between the Captain and the Lieutenant. A man standing
behind them is attempting with outstretched hand to ascertain the
angle of fire of his gun's barrel. The muzzle-flash can be observed
directly adjacent to the white feather in the Lieutenant's hat: the
gun is depicted in the very moment in which the shot is fired. To
the right of the Lieutenant, an old man is blowing the burnt powder
from his flintlock's pan. On the far right, the drummer is trying
out his instrument, and seems to have scared the dog, which is
cowering in front of him. Two female figures should also be
mentioned. The first, in a golden dress, has a purse and a dead hen
hanging from her belt, the latter claws-upwards; she is holding a
drinking horn in her hand. The second figure is almost entirely
concealed behind her.
A great variety of motifs of movement is arranged before the
observer. Rapid change — seen in the running boy and the striding
gait of the Captain and Lieutenant - characterizes the
"here-and-now" of this instant, an element emphasized still further
by the shot that is being fired. One may notice the lingering
gestures of the speakers, together with the postures of quiet
duration visible in the posture struck by the ensign and the
listening and watching attitudes of those waiting.
Brilliantly set highlights and certain prominent shadows serve to
heighten the impression of something lasting but for a moment.
Particular attention should be paid here to the shadow thrown by the
Captain's outstretched hand on the coat of the Lieutenant. It is not
least through this element, together with the suggestion of
commotion, that the expectation is aroused that the scene could also
be encountered outside of a picture, in reality, just as it is seen
here.
A wide range of activities are portrayed, such as those concerning
the handling of a rifle — loading, firing, cleaning out the pan —
the presentation of the standard, the taking up of arms, the testing
of the drum. All these are activities such as mark out the group as
a Civic Guard company. At the same time, however, each individual is
characterized through the activities typical of him or his task,
with the consequence that each would appear to be doing whatever he
wants, without reference to the general happening. Here, too, it is
only the word that binds together all these diverging actions. If
the text from Banning Cocq's album is taken as being accurate, then
the work depicts the moment in which the Captain gives the order to
march out; the Lieutenant has not yet passed it on, nor is anyone
else aware of it. As of this moment, it is the duty of the
Lieutenant to pass on the order. It is in this turn of events,
however, that the whole hardly surpassable effect of the picture's
structural conception lies. A situation has been selected in which
each individual becomes a member of a collective event, in the very
moment in which he performs his activity for himself alone, with no
direct reference to what is going on around him. It is only by this
means that the moment preceding the passing on of the order can be
clearly indicated. Rembrandt makes use of the opportunity to give a
precise and subtle display of the typical hustle and bustle of the
Guild's everyday life - and also, at the same time, to depict the
group in a collective, unifying active whole. Christian Tiimpel
characterizes the depicted moment as the "state of setting off and
getting into order". However, the latter would signify that the
Lieutenant — or some other person or persons — were already
preparing to follow the order to the troops to form up prior to
marching out. One can make a better case for the argument that the
moment portrayed is that one just before the men form up, one still
allowing unrestricted freedom of individual action.
Here, once again, in one of the last scenes of this kind, Rembrandt
is able to use the situation to display the highest and most
differentiated external movements, since the individual forms have
not yet been integrated into the formative schema of the collective
marching order.
The open situation throws up further questions. Will the Captain and
the Lieutenant, depicted in front of the others and already striding
out, become detached from the group? How will the march out look
after the men are in formation, from where are the figures emerging
from the archway coming, where will they line up, and what is the
group's destination? Does what is happening reflect the normal
course of events whenever the troop comes together, or is something
special, something unique, taking place? None of this can be
inferred solely from what is depicted in the picture. Are we
concerned here with the departure of the Guild to escort Maria de
Medici, the Queen Mother and former Regent of France, on her visit
to Amsterdam? In the year 1638, she was indeed conducted into the
city by the three Guilds. An argument in favour of this is that some
of the costumes date from this time; against it, however, is the
fact that Frans Banning Cocq and the Lieutenant were not yet in
office at that time.
Furthermore, we must ask — as with The Anatomy Lesson by
Nicolaes Tulp — how all these figures are to find a radius
of action for their movements on the narrow steps. It is reasonable
to assume that the building represented here is the Guild's house,
the so-called Cloveniersdoelen, the hall of which the painting was
intended to decorate. However, the pattern of the illumination
remains inexplicable: how are we to account for the lighting effects
in the case of the Lieutenant and the female figure in the
background? If we were looking at a night watch in front of the
house, then it could hardly be a question here of moonlight: the
only possibility would be artificial light, for example that thrown
by torches — and yet these would surely cause each and every object
to cast more than one shadow. The intensity of light revealed in the
picture can only have the rays of the sun as its source — so how is
it, out in the open in front of the house, that everything is
shrouded in darkness? If the group were indeed illuminated by the
sun, then the members would surely appear universally bright and
uniformly in shadow. Yet it is only the figure of the Lieutenant,
the female form in the background, and individual faces here and
there which the light causes to stand out, while even the shadows
follow no clear direction. The distinct shadow thrown by the
Captain's hand is the only thing to create such a convincing effect
that it becomes a pars pro toto, a detail inducing one to
believe that the conception of the illumination elsewhere in the
picture is consistent. Such observations can serve to draw attention
to the fact that here, too, the plausibility of the action is
achieved only at the expense of the plausibility of an actual
situation. It covers up the fact that the figures are bright because
they are depicted, and not because the light happens to be falling
on them: that which appears to be chance in the picture is in fact
artistic intention.
Questions also remain unanswered when one attempts to fathom the
significance of individual motifs. One example among many: the
bright female form, and the one almost entirely hidden behind her,
have given rise to the greatest mystery of all. In comparison with
the other figures, they appear as small as children; however, their
proportions and dress lead one to suspect that they might be sutlers
accompanying the company. The drinking horn, the purse and the hen
hanging from the belt of one of the women have been interpreted as a
reference to the central social event of the Guild, the communal
banquet. The fact that the size of these figures is portrayed as
being so much smaller here could be explained by the mediaeval
custom of depicting minor characters on a smaller scale than that
employed for the principal protagonists.3 If this is the case,
however, why does the artist then manipulate the lighting in such a
way as to cause them to stand out to such an extent? On the other
hand, if one were indeed to consider them as girls, then it would be
possible to connect them with children in pictures before
Rembrandt's time, where they were portrayed as emblem carriers in
processions. Following this theory, the colours of the girls'
dresses in The Night Watch have been linked to those
of the Guild's coat of arms. Moreover, the claws of the hen hanging
from the belt of one of the girls could be interpreted as a play on
the coat of arms of the Civic Guard, consisting of crossed rifles
and griffins' talons: the Dutch word for talon is the same as that
for rifle. The question of whether the two girls have any
allegorical significance within the context of the pictorial scene
must remain open.
The baroque era was a time of allegory and emblems. In The
Night Watch, however, Rembrandt would appear to have been
successful in both depicting these and simultaneously hiding them,
with the result that the observer becomes aware of the allusions,
yet is unable to tie them down. In this way, they maintain the state
of affairs shortly before the ordering of meaningful concepts.
The fact that the event, the situation in its details, the setting,
costumes, illumination, and even meaning of individual motifs in
The Night Watch elude a final definitive interpretation
will not be taken in the following as a mistake or
as the capriciousness of so-called artistic freedom; rather, it
should be considered - at least on an experimental basis - as a
decisive principle, one by which Rembrandt allowed himself to be led
in shaping that which was to be depicted. It should be apparent that
the reason for such a style of depiction can hardly lie in the
effort to reproduce things as faithfully as possible, nor in the
subject-matter of the depiction. If one acknowledges the openness of
the depictive interpretations, then one is ultimately led to their
concrete, visible cause - the elements of the picture itself, the
lines, the light-dark structure, the colours.
If one starts by studying the structure and arrangement of the lines
on the surface of the picture — leaving aside any representational
interpretation — then one may be struck by the numerous straight
lines formed by the contours of the facade in the background, by the
lances and rifles, the standard, the Captain's stick, and other
elements. The back wall manifests some horizontal lines in its
cornice, together with some vertical lines such as those on the
right-hand side, where the wall projects, and to either side of the
archway. Although these lines do not pass over the entire surface,
they nevertheless create the impression of a grid of vertical and
horizontal lines spread over the whole picture — yet one that is
only intimated, since each individual line is constantly
interrupted, is not sharply drawn, and can be distinguished only
with difficulty against the dark surface. For this reason, it would
be pushing things too far to speak here of a grid. The structure
remains open, and does not bind the format together. Nonetheless,
the lines bestow upon the surface a structure such as is consistent
in itself, one presenting a distinct contrast to the diversity of
direction to be seen in the other straight lines mentioned above. It
is fascinating to notice how the spears leaning against the wall on
the right, for example, diverge but minimally from the vertical
lines of the ground - yet this divergence is sufficient to disperse
the impression of a consistent "grid", or prevent its consolidation
from the outset. A different orientation is adopted by the slanting
lines, first of all that of the standard's stave, the direction of
which is taken up by the Captain's stick and the rifle of the man in
red in the left-hand foreground, and secondly, that of the almost
vertical direction of the spear which the man in the helmet
immediately above the Lieutenant is holding, in an upwards direction
towards the right-hand border of the picture. Other straight lines
would appear to go along with this second direction: the
Lieutenant's lance, the gun with the muzzle flash, the flintlock
whose pan is being blown out, and the pointing arm of the third
figure from the right. The lines of the standard's stave and of the
spear pointing to the right, if they are extended, lead to the head
of the brightly illuminated girl, albeit barely intersecting at the
top of the head's outline. Visible points of intersection are
avoided here, in an almost methodical manner; however, they
accumulate on the other side. Swords, rifles, and other spears cross
the main axis mentioned above in different directions, while a
star-shaped double overlapping may even be seen above the previously
discussed pointing arm. Yet all this does not serve to make the
brightly lit girl the centre of the main directions; equally, nor
does the star-shape form offer a central point for the principle
under which the lines are distributed. It is significant, moreover,
that the "accompanying" axes mentioned above are not parallel - they
are almost so, it is true, but no more than this. A structure of
geometric relationships would seem to have been intended but not
realized.
Into this structured system of straight lines is woven the chain of
small roundish forms. This chain, which description cannot enable
one to follow, is made up of the overlapping outlines of the
figures; its indentations are such as could lead one to think
distantly of a laurel garland. It crosses the whole width of the
picture midway up, tending to confuse or break up any comprehensive
efforts at orientation. This serves to focus the observer's gaze
upon the light-dark structure in this zone, from the limits of which
this feature emerges.
If one concentrates exclusively upon the smaller bright elements of
this linear network — the impression can be heightened
experimentally by blinking one's eyes - the heads and collars can be
seen to follow one another in a garland leading first from the left
in a curve down to the girls. From here, it continues upwards over
the helmet adorned with oak leaves, passing in an upwardly curred
arch over the heads of the Captain, the Lieutenant and the man
behind them to that of the old man blowing into his powder pan.
Finally, it rises over the remaining heads and the pointing arm to
the right-hand border of the picture, from where it rolls on towards
the centre of the picture as far as the drum. Another section of
garland, not necessarily connected to the first, is formed from the
heads of the figures in the archway. Notwithstanding the fact that
all of the small details of the individual forms offset the tendency
to recognize directions, it would be possible to speak from a very
general point of view of a rough symmetry, in the sense of two wings
unfolding towards the sides. The centre of this double form can be
seen in the two most extensive and striking elements of
illumination, those of the Lieutenant and the girl. The form of the
Captain, which has been rendered extremely dark apart from his
equally bright lace collar, would thereby be integrated into the
symmetrical pattern and almost framed within the picture, this
latter process separating him - it is said again and again, by a
sort of rectangle - from the rest of the structure.
If one advances this view, however, then it is always necessary to
emphasize immediately the opposite view, namely that it is in fact
impossible to demonstrate a symmetrical shape in the light-dark
structure. The bright areas constituted by the Lieutenant and the
girl are of such differing size, the distance from them to the
Captain is so unequal, that it is far from convincing to argue that
they are symmetrical objects. As regards the smaller bright
elements, they are of course related to each other, but the
comparison with a connected garland overshoots the mark. At the same
time, the structure can also be seen as a group of isolated
elements, or divided up into sporadic, separate groups. There is no
one single line constituting an order in which the bright elements -
at least, the faces — should be seen as connected. Several equally
valid "paths" are available to the observer, along which he can
follow the garland.
The openness and divergence of the light-dark structure is great,
yet not so great that its tendency to form a unified arrangement
could be denied. Rectangles, oval arches, spiral forms, left-right
symmetry — in each case, the observer is pointed in the direction of
a basic geometric order. Yet it cannot be grasped. The elements of
spontaneity, motion, even disorder, assert themselves all the more,
renewing the challenge to the observer to find a general system.
An important discovery with regard to the light-dark effect is made
when one runs one's eyes — if possible at an even speed — over the
described garland, for example from left to right across the whole
picture. In this process, one becomes aware of an extremely
differentiated succession of brighter and darker elements. The
contrasts resulting from this alternation culminate in the central
zone, dying down again towards the sides and finally reaching a
provisional end at the half-bright drum, from where the next
sequence of movement could then start. As the observer's gaze
travels across the picture, the light-dark alternation is
experienced as a free, sporadic rhythm, one in which the intensity,
the size of the individual elements, and the intervals between them
combine to produce a highly differentiated and particularly dynamic
effect. At the same time, however, the sequence of alternation does
not appear to be entirely free. The rhythm appears to follow an
underlying beat, and it is only over this that its free dynamic can
unfold. That which has been indicated here may serve to make clear
that the entire observable structure of this picture reveals itself
in detail with reference to the lines and the light-dark structure
as arranged individually and in accordance with an open structure,
yet tending towards a general formation in every part. Indeed, the
pictorial structure of The Night Watch can itself be characterized
as individual motion shortly before the establishment of order.
The purely visible qualities of the picture assert themselves here
as a self-supporting system possessing its own drama and motion,
independent of the recognizable qualities seen in that which can be
comprehended within the scene. The same dramatic structure is
revealed both in that which is readily apparent here and in that
which can be understood via the portrayal in the scene. The change
taking place that is signified by The Night Watch and
the following collections of pictures within the course of
Rembrandt's development is a step from interpretation to
observation.
