2021 - THE HOUSE AND THE RULES OF THOUGHT

VRIJE UNIVERSITEIT THE HOUSE AND THE RULES OF THOUGHT A cultural-historical research into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats, Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten ACADEMIC DISSERTATION to obtain the degree of doctor of the Vrije Universiteit of Amsterdam, by authority of the Rector Magnificus prof. dr. T. Sminia, to defend publicly in the presence of the Doctorate Committee of the Faculty of Arts on Tuesday 28 January 2003 at 1.45 p.m. the university auditorium, De Boelelaan 1105 by Heidi de Mare born in Amsterdam 1 2 supervisors prof. dr. Willem Th.M. Frijhoff prof. dr. Ed. S.H. Tan doctorate committee dr. Caroline van Eck, History of Early Modern Architectural Theory prof. dr. Marlite Halbertsma, Historical Aspects of Art and Culture prof. dr. Marijke Spies, Historical Literature prof. dr. Ilja M. Veltman, Art History and Iconology Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Website & research: https://heididemare.academia.edu/research https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Heidi-De-Mare https://maatschappelijkeverbeelding.nl/ 3 Preface vii Introduction. There is a House in Holland 1 Chapter 1. Sources and Methodology 1.1. 1.2. Sources 1.1.1. Simon Stevin and his Architectural Treatise 1.1.2. Houwelick by Jacob Cats [8] 1.1.3. Pieter de Hooch and his paintings Methodological principles of historical formalism 1.2. Introduction. A cultural-historical study of the arts 1.2.1. A history of the arts 1.2.2. The arts as formal signifying systems 1.2.3. Source criticism 1.2.4. Vocabulary, text analysis and deployment 21 37 53 69 75 85 97 105 Chapter 2. Simon Stevin and the Liberated House 2.1. 2.2. The Arrangement of the House 2.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the House 2.1.1. Matter and Firmness 2.1.2. The Finding of the Cleansed Chamber 3. Classification according to Nature 2.1.4. The Properties of the House Drawing Arrangements in the Field of Architectural Thinking 2.2.1. Column, Congruence and Comfortable Appearance 2.2.2. The Perfect House Drawing as a Memory System 2.2.3. The Art of Architecture, Reflection and Doing Chapter 3. 3.1. 119 125 141 157 177 195 213 231 Jacob Cats and the House as Honorable Enterprise [22] The Arrangement of the House as Enterprise 3.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the House as Enterprise [25] 3.1.1. Household Goods and the Mistress of the House [37] 3.1.2. The Art of Lovemaking and the Tableau of Characters [59] 3.1.3. Passions and Moods [83] 3.1.4. The House as Place of Spirituality [105] 4 251 265 285 305 325 3.2. Arrangements in the Art of Living Well 3.2.1. The House as Matter of Marital Honor [127] 3.2.2. The House as Condensation of the Art of Living Well [151] 3.2.3. Practicing the Eloquent Mean [169] 341 361 379 Chapter 4. Pieter de Hooch, Samuel van Hoogstraten and the Chamber Scape 4.1. 4.2. The Arrangement on the Flat Plane 4.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the Flat Plane 4.1.1. The Translucency of the Chamber Scape 4.1.2. The Study of the Enclosed Chamber Lights 4.1.3. The Art of Suitable Color Matching 4.1.4. Bodies Arrangements in visual knowledge 4.2.1. The Art of Painting as Work 4.2.2. Pictorial Archive and the Chamber Scape as Sediment 4.2.3. The Moving Painting and the Craving Eye 4.2.4. From the Art of Painting to Theory of Art 399 415 435 451 473 499 519 547 577 Chapter 5. Aggregation, Reflection and Speculation 5.1. 5.2. Aggregation 5.1. Introduction 5.1.1. The Study of Nature in Early Modern Europe 5.1.2. Visual Knowledge 5.1.3. The Burgher and the Benefits of Natural Philosophical Knowledge 5.1.4 Aristotle in Holland Reflection 5.2.1. Aby Warburg and cultural history as scholarly field of study 5.2.2. Art history according to Panofsky, Wittkower and Gombrich 5.2.3. The Dutch art historians Van de Waal and Emmens 5.2.4. Plato and the Dutch art and architectural history Epilogue. Closer to Home: on the Usefulness of Cultural-Historical Sensibility Summary Notes Bibliography Visual material Origins visual material 5 591 597 613 627 639 649 663 679 689 709 719 733 969 1053 1365 6 Images Chapter 4 – Beeldpagina’s [Bp] Bp.301-23 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170967/Hoofdstuk+3+afb+1+23.pdf Bp.304-45 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170969/Hoofdstuk+3+afb+24+45.pdf Images Postscript Bp.Nawoord.1-4 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42171003/ Nawoord+summary+bibliografie+herkomst+afbeeldingen+afb+1-4.pdf 7 CHAPTER 1 1.1.2. Houwelick by Jacob Cats Eighty-two was Jacob Cats – poet, merchant and statesman in retirement – when he wrote his autobiography. He looked back on a life that had begun in another century. He was older than the Republic of which he had been an important servant. During his lifetime, the country in which he lived had changed beyond recognition, through a building explosion in towns like Amsterdam and Leiden, through land reclamation and impoldering, and through a surge in population that went hand in hand with an unprecedented increase in wealth. When Cats was born, the seven provinces formed an outer region of the Habsburg empire. When he died, the Republic was a superpower, party or arbitrator in virtually every European conflict. Jacob Cats may not have been the greatest Dutch poet of his day, but he was undoubtedly the most widely read. Called ‘Father Cats’ even during his lifetime, Jacob Cats was by the end of his life, thanks to his books, the most influential articulator of a Calvinist-oriented marriage morality. That influence would grow after his death. Paul Dijstelberge, ‘De vergeefse strijd tegen het lichaam’ [The futile struggle against the body], in: J. Bos & J.A. Gruys (ed.), Cats Catalogue. The werken van Jacob Cats in de Short-Title Catalogue, Netherlands, Konklijke Bibliotheek, The Hague 1996, p. 7. Jacob Cats came from the Zeeland town of Brouwershaven, where he was born on November 10, 1577, the second son of Adriaan Cornelisz Cats, a wholesaler of beer by profession (biersteker) and Leenken Breyde, daughter of a family of regents.1 His father was a prominent citizen, from a Roman Catholic family, who was a member of the College of Aldermen several times in the period 1568 to 1595. From 1598 until his death in 1600 he held the office of mayor of Brouwershaven. After the death of his wife in 1579 he married in 1582 the Catholic Jolente de Grande, widow of Jonker Jan van Heule, with whom he had four more children. From 1581 the first four children including Jacob were raised by his mother’s sister, Anna Breyde and her husband, the alderman Doen Leenaerts, who were childless.2 In 1588 Jacob Cats leaves for Zierikzee for four years where he attends the Latin school. Together with other pupils, he came to live with the head of the school, Dick Kemp and his wife. There he was not only taught table manners according to Erasmus by the mistress of the house, but also had his first love experiences with the maid who lived in the house too.3 As a fourteen-year-old Jacob Cats went to Leiden to register in 1593 to study letters [trivium].4 Two years later he began studying law, which he completed in 1598 with a doctorate in Orleans. During these years Jacob Cats had all kinds of amorous adventures.5 In 1599 he entered the service of the Hague procurator Cornelis van der Pol as a lawyer and was given board and lodging. Cats learned the art of legal argumentation and defense, tools that also came in handy in his 8 poetry.6 Through his rhetorical abilities he managed to acquit two women at witch trials in Goeree and Schiedam. ‘The court rejected the popular superstition, after which “alle spookerij als uit het land gedreven” leek [seemed to have driven all the hauntings out of the country]’, Ten Berge said.7 Around 1602, Cats was stricken with fevers, and on the advice of his physician, he sought a climate that might cure him. To this end, he spent some time in England, where he attended the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, among others. There he became acquainted with English pietism as propagated by William Perkins. Back in Holland Jacob moved in with his brother Cornelis. In his own words, Jacob Cats was eventually cured by the miracle cure of an alchemist.8 Once recovered, Cats settled in 1603 as a lawyer in Middelburg, where he moved in with the family of Pieter de Moucheron, a brother of Balthasar de Moucheron who defended the trading interests of Zeeland merchants abroad.9 Cats’ practice took place in this circuit and consisted largely of lawsuits over war booty. In 1604 the De Moucherons’ trading house went bankrupt and Cats took over some of the possessions. His law practice was temporarily ended by the Twelve-Year Truce. Together with his brother Cornelis from 1611 onwards they invested in land reclaiming land and diking.10 (Later Cats, together with Huygens and Van Baerle, among others, made a similar attempt at reclamation in England, which, however, failed).11 Certain estates that had flooded during the war and belonged to the Flemish clergy such as Cadzand, Groede, Oostburg, Biervliet and IJzendijke were bought out and diked.12 In 1614 they founded a farm in Groede: the ‘Catshoeve’ [Cats farm] in the Zoutepolder. They also owned estates in Biervliet, polders in Nieuwvliet, Baarzand and Doorenslust under Oostburg. Cats and his brother, previously unfamiliar with farming, get to know the ins and outs of it. They worked the fertile soil of Zeeland, sowed rapeseed, winter barley and grain, and reaped abundant harvests, also financially.13 Meanwhile, on 29 May 1605, Cats married the pious and educated Elizabeth van Valckenburgh.14 She was the daughter of the wealthy merchant Jan van Valckenburgh, who came from Antwerp and lived in the Warmoestraat in Amsterdam, and Elisabeth Michiels van Varlaer.15 Two years after their marriage, Cats, under the influence of his wife, switched to Protestantism.16 Of the seven children born alive, two daughters reach adulthood: Anna (1609-1649) and Elisabeth (1618-1673).17 Until 1623 the financially well-off family stayed in Middelburg during the winter months and in the summer in the nearby country estate De Munnikenhof.18 That is the period in which Cats fully participates in his own family life with all the joys and burdens of growing children.19 An appointment as Pensionary of Middelburg followed in 1621. But in the same year the Twelve-Year Truce ended, hostilities resumed in Zeeland and Cats eventually lost all his lands and possessions.20 In 1623 he left for Dordrecht to become Pensionary, an office he held until 1636. In 1627 he negotiates as envoy 9 on behalf of the States of Holland in England where several disputes are on the table.21 Two years later he bought a house in The Hague on the Kneuterdijk in connection with the temporary holding of the post of Raadpensionaris [Grand Pensionary] of Holland.22 In 1631 his wife died. Cats entrusted the housekeeping and education of his youngest daughter to Cornelia Baars, wife of his secretary Mathias Havius.23 In 1636 he was appointed by the States General as Grand Pensionary of Holland and Westfriesland, succeeding Adriaan Pauw. Thus, Jacob Cats became the de facto leader of the States General.24 Not much is formally known of his political activities as a civil servant in the 1640s.25 In fact, however, he had the most power, although it is agreed that he was not a great (but rather mediocre and somewhat weak) politician who followed rather than led.26 We do know that in the period 1643-44 he owned the country house ‘De Montfort’ and dune lands in Scheveningen.27 Cats remained active as Grand Pensionary until 1651.28 After a second diplomatic mission to England – again involving the confiscation of Dutch ships – in 1652 Cats withdrew to the country house Sorghvliet [literally: vanishing worries] which had been built in his absence on the dune grounds at Scheveningen.29 Initially Pieter Post was considered to be its architect.30 More recently the ‘Catshuis’, although related to Post’s work, has been attributed to Lodewijk Huygens.31 At Sorgvliet, Jacob Cats returned to the country life he had led in Zeeland. Outside the hustle and bustle of The Hague, he devoted himself entirely to reclaiming, fertilizing, and planting the arid dune lands.32 Seeds of various plant species are made available to him by Leiden University. Cornelia Baars, who in the meantime has become a widow, still does the household, and gives him and her children the cosines of a family life in his old age.33 Cats reads a lot, has an extensive library at his disposal with both classical and religious works, texts of church fathers, historical, legal and medical writings, but also books on mathematics and physics, astrology and geography.34 In the last phase of his life, when he feels the end is near, he becomes more religiously sensitive. He turns to the Bible more often than before and gets spiritual care from The Hague pastors. In his private chapel at Sorgvliet they provide full services. When Jacob Cats dies on September 12, 1660, he has reached the advanced age of 82.35 Cats left an extensive oeuvre. With the exception of a few final verses, it was published in 1655 by his Amsterdam publisher, poet and bookseller Jan Jacobs Schipper as Alle de wercken [Complete Works, two volumes].36 His most famous work is the Houwelick [Marriage] from 1625.37 His Trou-ringh [Wedding-ring] from 1637 is dedicated to the same subject, but differs greatly in composition.38 Cats alternates the stories (taken from the Old Testament, classical tales and events from history) with a dialogue between an unmarried youngster and an old wise widower.39 Furthermore, there are the emblem-collections in which he 10 combines text with engravings, made by Adriaen van de Venne whom he met in Middelburg.40 The erudite Cats generously provided his volumes of emblems with Italian, French, English and Latin proverbs, and contributed ‘to the popularization of the once so intellectualistic genre’.41 His first work, dating from 1618, is Silenus Alcibiades, sive Proteus, also known as Zinne- en minne-beelden [allegorical and love images].42 In it, Cats combines engraving and text in such a way that the purport shifts twice: first from an ‘erotic’ to a ‘social’ and then to a ‘religious’ meaning.43 Lof-gedicht op de gedenckwaerdige Nationale Synode, gehouden tot Dordrecht anno 1618 ende 1619 [Poem of praise of the memorable National Synod held in Dordrecht in 1618] underlines his Calvinist leanings.44 His Spieghel van de Ouden en Nieuwe Tijdt [Mirror of the Old and New Times], a three-volume work dealing with childrearing, domestic affairs and state affairs, appeared in 1632. At the end of his life Cats wrote Ouderdom, Buytenleven en Hof-gedachten op Sorgh-vliet [Aging, Outdoor Life and Garden Thoughts on Sorgh-vliet] (1655) in which he describes daily life on his estate and looks back on the life he led. As is well known, Jacob Cats and his work have always played a major but complicated role in the image of the Dutch seventeenth century. In Gestalten van de Gouden eeuw [Portraits of the Golden age] (1995), for example, he appears in three chapters: as statesman-regent, as poet, and as moralist. In each chapter, Jacob Cats participated in a circuit. As a lawyer, statesman and diplomat, he was in the circles of the administrative elite and the Princely Court. That could just as well be in Zeeland, as in Holland. For example, he worked for years at the University of Leiden (1636-1644) as Curator, a regent’s office.45 His diplomatic action radius extended not only to England but also to Germany and France.46 Many influential politicians crossed his path. At the university, his legal expertise was noted as evidenced by an offer from Leiden University in the 1620s to teach as a professor of civil law at the same institution.47 Yet the appreciation that Jacob Cats garnered with his poetry stands out above everything else.48 It is evident from the enormous print runs of his works, both popular editions and luxury editions, with which he reached a wide audience that was not limited to any particular social group.49 ‘With their engravings’, as Frijhoff and Spies recently explained, works like Houwelick and Trou-ringh ‘played on both the reading capacity of the Dutch and their highly visual culture. The combination of literary form, viewing pleasure and moral message guaranteed a wide distribution’.50 His oeuvre received an impressive distribution in the Northern and Southern Netherlands but also in Germany, Denmark, Sweden and South Africa, while some translations into French and English followed.51 The poems he wrote in praise of the work of others or the verses for the Schat der gesontheyt [Treasure of health] from 1636 of his fellow townsman and physician Johan van Beverwijck from Dordrecht – that all points to how much his work was 11 appreciated.52 In the Zeeland literary milieu, Cats associated with, among others, the married poet Johanna Coomans, with poet Anna Roemers Visscher, and with the Antwerp native Joannis (Hans) de Swaef.53 Cats enjoyed a great reputation in the seventeenth century.54 Together with poets such as P.C. Hooft, Joost van den Vondel, G.A. Bredero, the Leiden professor Daniël Heinsius and Constantijn Huygens (the secretary of Prince Frederik Hendrik), he was among those who successfully climbed the ‘Dutch Parnas’.55 The fact that Cats praises the country estate and the enjoyment of the outdoor life in his Sorghvliet (1655) is not an isolated case either: this genre in which one writes a poem ‘for the sake of honor’ (not to earn one’s living),56 was also practiced by Huygens (Hofwijck, 1653) and their mutual neighbor, the Calvinist poet-physician Jacob Westerbaen (Ockenburgh, 1954).57 In contrast, Cats’ work found little resonance among European scholars, despite a Latin translation of the Trou-ringh (1643), by the Amsterdam professor Caspar van Baerle (Barlaeus) and Cornelis Boey.58 The third area in which Cats was active was religious-moral. To that circuit belonged preacher Willem Teellinck and the schoolmaster, elder and author of religious-moralistic writings Ioannis de Swaef. Both met Cats in Middelburg at the beginning of his career.59 At the end of his life, there were again preachers who cared about his salvation. However, it was primarily his wife Elizabeth who encouraged him to live a godly life and through whom he learned to view domestic life as a moral practice.60 To this day, Cats owes his name as a moralist primarily to the popular Houwelick, a ‘marriage advice book’ in which he edited his own religious and moral experiences and recorded them in the form of practical hints, household instruction and social norms, and assigned the wife ‘unambiguously her place’.61 In recent decades, all kinds of historians have engaged with his ‘moral didactic work’. Cultural historians, family historians and literary historians have interpreted it, but they have done so just as much from the perspective of women’s history, art history and historical pedagogy.62 In the interpretations three issues can be distinguished that recur again and again. 1. The place of Cats in the Christian-humanist tradition; 2. His use of literary techniques; 3. His influence on the Dutch culture of the seventeenth century. I will briefly outline these three issues based on the secondary literature. Many studies place Houwelick in the long-standing Christian-humanist tradition regarding marriage and women.63 Several lines can be distinguished in this: the matrimonial tradition and ‘vrouwenlof’ [Praising Women], which became intertwined in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries while debating. Spies mentions as a third line the stereotype of the idealized lady which Petrarch shaped in his love verses and which gave rise to imitation, in the Netherlands by, for example, Heinsius and Hooft.64 And, as a fourth line, the secondary literature often points to an undercurrent that from the fifteenth century onwards turned the 12 ordinary pattern of roles and the balance of power between the sexes upside down into a ‘verkeerde wereld’ [The World Upside Down]. ‘The wicked, cunning, and lazy housewife figures here alongside the man as a wimp, like Jan de Wasscher and Jan Hen. In a symbolic way, however, by showing the upside-down (wrong) world they confirm the positive image’. This theme of ‘The Battle for the Trousers’ is mainly dealt with in farces and engravings.65 The first line is connected with the work of the Spanish (but living in Bruges) humanist Juan Luis Vives (De institutione Foeminae Christianae, 1524), with Desiderius Erasmus (Christiani matrimonii institutio, 1526) and also with the life and work (Utopia, 1516) of the Englishman Sir Thomas More.66 To this line, which values marriage (and education) in a positive sense, one also counts texts on marriage by, for example, Le Ménagier de Paris (1393), Leon Battista Alberti (Della Famiglia, 1434), Albrecht von Eyb (Ehebüchlein, 1472) and Fray Luis de Leòn (La Perfecta Casada, 1585).67 The main life task of women would be to be mothers and wives. As a function of this, most early modern authors advocate that girls receive some intellectual training and education so that they are capable of leading virtuous, chaste, and pious lives.68 ‘Most positive seem to us’, Nauwelaerts judged in 1975, for example, ‘the idea of the personality formation of women; the conception of the fundamental equality of man and woman; the importance attached to the humanistic formation of women, that is the invitation to and the right of women to enter the world of thought, scholarship and the written word; the elevation of woman to a high moral standing, sensible, literate and self-confident personality was seen at the time in the light of the tasks she had to fulfill: one’s own nuclear family, and not yet: one’s profession and social life outside the home’.69 To this end, early modern authors derived arguments and principles from classical and Christian writers on philosophy and ethics. For example, from Aristotle, Plato, Plutarch, and Xenophon who argued that the woman ‘as a weaker vessel’ was destined for marriage so that the man could protect her.70 But also to church fathers like Augustine and to the Old or New Testament.71 There are plenty of examples in the Bible (such as in Genesis the story of Eve’s seduction) that show the weakness of the female sex. Usually, such a hymn to the virtues of the good housewife refers to a Christian theme. Particularly in the biblical text Proverbs, the Good Housewife receives praise for her virtuous behavior.72 Spies points out that the views of Vives and Erasmus, which were ‘in the beginning of the sixteenth century, brand new views,’ were in Van Schurman’s time ‘still very much alive’.73 The other line concerns the praise of women. Here her qualities and her being are discussed in comparison with those of the man. The writing by Christine de Pisan (1404), in which she defends womanhood by pointing out the many famous, wise, and learned women in history, is seen as the beginning of this line.74 The book was translated into Flemish (1475) and English (1521).75 Spies points out that such galleries of famous women had been written before. For example, the 13 fourteenth century Italian Boccaccio wrote his De claribus mulieribus in this vein and the Spaniard Juan Rodriguez de la Càmara published his book Triumfo de la donas in 1440.76 In the early modern discussion, (especially among scholars and literati) ‘the woman’ has become the subject of debate. In particular, it revolves around the question of what place women occupy intellectually, what is the connection with their physiology, and whether they can fulfill a function in societal life.77 In the course of the sixteenth century, the so-called Querelle des femmes emerged. This literary debate is about defending the supremacy of women. In De nobilitate et praeexcellentia foeminei sexus of 1509, Cornelis Agrippa of Nettesheim lists theological and physiological as well as historical arguments from which the superiority of women compared to men should be demonstrated.78 At the beginning of the seventeenth century, authors who defend this view again appear in Europe. In 1604 Lucretia Marinell’s book La Nobilita e l'Eccellenza delle Donne e i Diffeti e Mancamenti degli Uomini appears, in which she argues that God has placed women above men.79 In Holland, both the physician Johan van Beverwijck (Van de wtnementheyt des vrouwelicken geslachts, 1639 [On the excellency of the female sex]) and the poet and learned woman Anna Maria van Schurman (Verhandeling over de aanleg van vrouwen voor wetenschap, 1641 [Treatise on women’s aptitude for science])80 defend the intellectual capacities of the female sex. Spies emphasizes that Van Schurman was acceptable at the time only as an exception.81 Unlike Van Schurman in her ‘feminist treatise,’82 Van Beverwijck sees a possibility for a woman working outside the home. Incidentally, both authors know each other and are also personally acquainted with Cats.83 The supremacy of the man is also defended in the Netherlands, for instance by Daniel Jonctijs (Der mannen opperwaerdigheyt, tegens de vrouwelijckje lofredenen van Dr. Joh. van Beverwijck [The supremacy of men, directed against the eulogies toward women by Dr. Joh. van Beverwijck], 1646) and in Vrouwenlof aen me-juffrouw C.K. [Women’s Praise to Miss C.K.] by Peter van Gelre (1646).84 Cats defends marriage and sees the home as the natural destiny of the woman is the conclusion of many authors.85 By virtue of her role as spouse and educator, Jacob Cats too considers some education for the woman desirable.86 Unlike his predecessors, however, Cats addresses the woman directly and not through her husband on her function as housewife-mother and her marital duties.87 In dealing with the subject he follows in the footsteps of Erasmus, to whose writings on marriage he regularly refers. In particular, Christiani Matrimonii Institutio (1526) and Colloquia Familiaria work through into Cats’ thinking.88 Advisories in the field of upbringing and the education of girls show the Erasmian roots of his ideas.89 Themes such as the interaction between boys and girls, moral decay, advice on control of marital sexuality, domestic affairs and religious considerations, the household and the housewife – in the choice of all these 14 subjects, Cats agrees with his illustrious predecessor. ‘Especially women and girls had to lead a moral life, for unchaste actions easily led to irreparable loss of honor,’ Van der Heijden confirms the underlying motif.90 With his utterance, ‘the powerfully bubbling life demanded channeling,’ the historical pedagogue Noordam goes even further.91 In other respects too Cats imitates Erasmus example. This applies, for instance, to the use of the dialogue form in his twovolume Maeghden-plicht [Virgin-duty] and later also in his Trou-ringh.92 Furthermore, Cats followes the stages of a woman’s life in his book – virgin, spinster, bride, housewife, mother, elderly woman, and widow – and he too applied the succession of seasons.93 From a legal point of view, Jacob Cats does not assign an independent position to the adult woman. He shares this view with contemporaries such as Hugo de Groot (Inleiding tot de Hollantsche rechts-geleerdheid, 1631 [Introduction to Dutch legal theory]). In fact, this did not differ much from the views of the jurist and Huguenot Jean Bodin (1529/30-1596)94 and of Vives.95 In contracting a marriage, early modern legal scholars say, the woman formally exchanges her obedience to her father or guardian for that to her husband. Her husband, on the other hand, assumes a new position as a married man: he becomes head of ‘het gezin’ [the nuclear family] and guardian of his wife. Cats – following the French legal scholar Tiraqueau – believes that the woman must remain a virgin until marriage.96 He makes no such requirement of the man, although as a youngster he is not allowed to go too far. This legal inequality is rooted in ancient physiological views of the woman as the ‘weaker vessel’.97 From classical and Christian views, there is a typical female behavior (she is ‘more fickle,’ ‘more fearful,’ ‘more suspicious,’ ‘more jealous,’ ‘more quarrelsome,’ ‘more lustful’) that justifies or explains her destiny for marriage, hearth and home.98 This classification is based on the classical theory of humors as formulated by the Greek physician Galenus in the second century of the era. The four elements (water, earth, fire, and air) are thought to be the basis on which everything in the cosmos is founded. This physiological way of thinking was still in full force in Cats’ time. For example, in the popular medical work of his friend and fellow townsman Johan van Beverwijck, Schat der Gesontheyt (1636), one finds the theory of humors next to more modern insights that come from opening and examining the body.99 We will see in the chapters that follow that the coexistence of these kinds of old and new elements is precisely characteristic of seventeenth century thinking. Religiously speaking, Cats would be closely aligned with the then current views of the Nadere Reformatie [striving for a more complete and inner reformation] as far as marriage is concerned. At least that is a thought that is defended in the secondary literature.100 Preachers such as Teellinck, following English pietists like Perkins, Hall, and Gouge, put the ‘huisgezin’ [nuclear family] at the center.101 The nuclear family, as a ‘huiselijke kerk’ [domestic church], became a link in religious education and the broad dissemination of Reformation 15 ideas. This was characteristic of both Reformed Pietism and English Puritanism.102 Although careful choice of partners, as well as mutual esteem and love, consultation and comradeship, harmony and happiness are important, the virtuous housewife must obey the ‘pater familias’.103 Schama, however, observes a ‘camaraderie within the conjugal couple’ alongside the patriarchal structure. ‘Although willed by God’ and ‘even though parents had a finger in the pie’, marriage was a ‘bilateral matter to be settled between husband and wife’. Marriage had become, Schama argues, ‘a real partnership’, although Cats remains undiminished in his insistence on male ‘dominion’ over the household.104 Cats’ work also echoes elements of Luther and Calvin’s views on marriage.105 The primary purpose of marriage was not so much procreation – that was now understood as a matter of God – but mutual friendship.106 Unlike Roman Catholics, parents, as God’s substitutes on earth, are given a function in the marriage of their children.107 After Cats, the preacher Petrus Wittewrongel (1655-1661) elaborates similar issues into a complete house ethic: the Oeconomia Christiana.108 On the second theme, the literary technique of Jacob Cats I want to be brief. In fact, for the last thirty years two opposing views have been held. On the one hand there are literary historians who have an eye for Cats’ poetic craftsmanship and on the other hand there are the ‘ordinary’ historians who treat his capacities in this area somewhat marginally. Given the nature and questioning of both disciplines, this divide is obvious. Yet it is interesting to note that the history of reception shows considerable fluctuations in this respect – a wave motion that others, from Smilde to Kloek, have already noted.109 According to the art and literary historians Van Es, Ten Berge and Kloek, Cats was highly appreciated at the beginning of the nineteenth century when – as part of ‘the cultivation of national values’110 – there was a general increase in the attention paid to domestic poetry.111 From about 1830 onwards, it is precisely the literary experts who are increasingly dismissive of his poetry.112 Potgieter and Busken Huet in particular are negative about Cats’ work. This is evident from their use of words (‘leuterlievende vroomheid’ [piety with a preference for prattle talk], ‘keutelachtige poëzie’ [small-minded poetry]) or Busken Huet’s description of Cats as a ‘godvreezende moneymaker’ [God-fearing moneymaker] and his view of the marriage bed as ‘tafel van vermenigvuldiging’ [multiplication table].113 In the course of time we see both further vilification and attempts at rehabilitation, but eventually his image wears off to the somewhat bland portrait of a much-read, albeit mediocre, popular folk poet.114 On the other hand, it was precisely the cultural historians of the time such as Schotel (1868) and De Vries (1899) who spoke highly of Cats’ clear and evocative style. In the twentieth century, however, a remarkable exchange of roles occurs. Then it turned out that (cultural) historians such as Jan and Annie Romein (1938), 16 Huizinga (1941), Struik (1958) Noordam (1961) and Price (1974) and Van Deursen (1979) had little appreciation for Cats the rhymester. They consider his work to be a monotonous babble with little poetic inspiration, the value of which lies elsewhere – in the social-moral behavior he propagates.115 Ten Berge, for instance, wrote of Houwelick: ‘We can reproach Jacob Cats with a number of things – verbosity, attention to banal details, prostitution of the verse form – but not that he leaves the most important problems of love and marriage undiscussed’.116 In this sense Schama, with his remarks on Cats as the ‘uncrowned king of pious doggerel’ and on the soporific droning of his alexandrines, was following a long tradition.117Art historians such as De Jongh (‘the incessant sermonizing of Jacob Cats’) concur with this interpretation.118 On the other hand, it is mainly literary historians such as Smit, Witstein, Ten Berge, Sneller and Luijten who, from the 1960s onwards, draw attention to the formal instruments and investigate the way in which Cats offers the material in his poetry and prose. His renaissancistic play with language, his great rhetorical skill and power of persuasion, his use of monosyllabic words and his ‘virtuosic repetitions with variations’, make that he is rehabilitated as belonging to an important literary tradition.119 His use of the vernacular is also understood in this sense: as a corollary of a Renaissance ideal that he shared with others. Hooft, Vondel and Huygens were not the only ones to pursue a pure use of language and consistent spelling. This was also done among scholars – such as Hugo de Groot and Simon Stevin.120 This revaluation of Cats’ literary qualities fits with a more general trend in Dutch literary history. Porteman (1984), Spies (1984), and Schenkeveld-Van der Dussen (1991), for example, consider a revision necessary of the low esteem in which seventeenth-century literature was held. This undervaluation was related to the fact that cultural historians – such as Huizinga and Brom (1957) – had praised precisely its ‘striking visualizing power’.121 In doing so, they (wrongly according to the literary historians) placed the literature of the Golden Age in the shadow of the then highly valued and unique painting.122 The third theme that emerged in the study of Cats’ work concerns the relationship of his Houwelick to everyday practice. Does Cats describe reality, or does he formulate ideal images and norms of behavior? On this point, too, the reception history shows a wave motion, with one point of view sometimes dominating the other, an observation that others have made before.123 What we see, in fact, is that in this last theme the three previously mentioned axes converge creating a somewhat complicated interplay. Nevertheless, I believe I can discern a certain wave motion that also provides insight into the current conception of Cats as a moralist and the effect attributed to his work in Dutch culture. The first viewpoint is taken by authors who defend Cats’ ‘realism’. De Vries (1899) sees the ‘vie privée from these days’ displayed in front of him through an ‘insight’ provided by Cats, Van Es (1962) speaks of watching ‘a documentary film’, of ‘spying’ on 17 everyday life, and of a ‘direct and tangible confrontation with the seventeenthcentury reality of (...) the once living people of our ancestry’.124 The historicalpedagogue Noordam (1961) calls Cats an ‘anthropologist’, who keenly observes nature and ‘life in all its shades’.125 Kluiver (1978) considers the description of ‘concrete situations without any embellishments’ to be Cats’ starting point.126 Cats’ main merit is his acting as a ‘historian of the merry-go-round of ordinary seventeenth-century everyday life’.127 And finally, Schama (1987) is convinced by Cats’ ‘disarming tendency to transform every abstract idea (...) into a domestic, tangible image’.128 Or, as he takes it elsewhere, ‘Cats had a special talent for transforming a poetic observation into a prosaic platitude’.129 The second viewpoint is taken by authors who see Cats’ work as the expression of an ideal image. They discern seductive constructions, role models, designs, dreams, advice, virtues, duties, and counsels that Cats would evoke through technical (poetic) means.130 However, this is certainly not the only point of contention. There are also different views on the question of whose everyday life Cats shows and whose ideal he formulates (people, citizen, society, man).131 In this sense the wave motion says more about the datedness and contextdependence of historical interpretations than about Cats’ work itself. If we look at this historiographical wave movements with a certain distance, we can observe several shifts. Jan and Annie Romein are of the opinion that Cats gave an ‘immediate realistic portrayal of the life of the burgherman’.132 He describes affaires that fit in with what occupied the mass of the Dutch people and as such give an unedifying picture of the level of civilization of the time. Huizinga concurs with this. He too points out the mediocrity, the banality of that which Cats expresses and which, because of its popularity, ‘is a little shameful for our people’s character’.133 After the second world war this changes. Struik (1958) characterizes him as ‘the poet of domestic meekness (with seventeenth-century candor)’ who has been loved as such for centuries.134 Later Noordam (1961) and Van Es (1962) too will conceive of him as a realistic descriptor of the people and the bourgeoisie in their ordinary activities. But for them this takes on a very different meaning. They believe that Cats had a didactic ideal in mind. Precisely as a learned ‘regent poet’ he became ‘educator of the people’.135 Precisely from his ‘wisdom of life’ Cats acts as ‘educator of his contemporaries’. He has a ‘social task’ and strives to ‘improve men and society’.136 In the 1970s, a new variant emerged. Price and Carter (1974) present Cats as the mouthpiece of the interests, wishes and desires of the Dutch middle class.137 Because of his didactic goal, Cats would have distanced himself from the literary milieu of the time. It was precisely because of his ordinary but lively use of language that he was able to penetrate the small-minded with some education.138 A few years later the emphasis shifted completely to Cats as the articulator of an ideal, and interest from ‘emancipating circles’ is growing.139 Kluiver (1978) 18 argues that Cats does not so much address the lower classes, but rather the illmannered youth of distinguished parentage. He wants to tackle the ‘crude, profligate, sexually unrestrained’ behavior of young people with lessons in good manners. By means of a kind of ‘domestic school’ he points out to young girls from the upper classes the new task that awaits them as housewife-mother. Boekema Sciarone and Loonen (1978) point out that Cats has a ‘social program’ in mind with which he ‘wanted to show his fellow citizens the right way in societal and religious life’.140 Although he recognizes the ‘equal talent’ of women and argues for their ‘education’, their ‘social contacts’ and their ‘independence’, he continues to see marriage as their destination and does not attach any ‘societal consequences’ to his point of view.141 ‘Since the nuclear family is considered a core element and a breeding ground for society, they [Cats and others] value the woman’s task of educating and creating atmosphere in the family (...) It is considered normal that the woman’s social and economic status depends on the man or another male family member’.142 Other role patterns (an ‘independent living, unmarried woman’, ‘homosexual relations’ or ‘communes’) Cats rejects, according to both writers, because of the ‘societal’ consequences.143 For Ten Berge (1979), it mainly comes down to Cats’ open attitude towards the sexual relationship between the spouses.144 He sees Cats as ‘the first sexual counselor,’ with a ‘marriage clinic’ and ‘informational materials for the educated middle class’.145 Jacob Cats is said to have been erotically oversensitive himself, but he used that to give ‘sexual and marriage education’ to others in the ‘artful packaging’ of poetic language.146 An interpretation colored by the sexual revolution of the 1960s, which Ten Berge shares with others.147 Such as Boekema Sciarone and Lonen, who similarly highlight this theme. Cats ‘considers a good sexual relationship as an essential part of married life, and therefore does not shy away from giving various hints’.148 And finally, Groenendijk (1984) cites the Houwelick as a work that one should ‘consult when one wants to know what and how members of the Reformed Church during the seventeenth-century Republic were expected to raise their children’.149 Thus, the obsessions of the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s – witness the paraphrases with which Cats’ work is modernized – return in the appreciation of his oeuvre. It is therefore not surprising that shortly afterwards new readings of this oeuvre emerge, in which inequality and hierarchy of the sexes is the underlying theme and ‘interests’, ‘submission’, ‘subordination’, ‘patriarchal order’, ‘female passivity’ are the terms that give direction to the interpretation.150 Schama (1987), Leuker (1991), Kloek (1995), and Sneller (1996) believe that Cats first and foremost advocates an ideal, which is superimposed on practice. Precisely because this ideal is propagated by one of the most powerful men in the Republic, it would have weighed heavily on women’s daily lives. For ‘how painful it must have been to think that you fell short’ writes Schama among others. He speaks of ‘the heavy burden of expectations (...) with which Dutch women were saddled’, 19 ‘the high demands’ that ‘women of flesh and blood’ found difficult to meet.151 Damsma (1993) holds the same opinion, but he suspects that Cats realized very well ‘that few women could meet this ideal image’.152 Other authors are shaping a similar picture. McNeil Kettering (1993) argues that there can be no doubt that ‘Jacob Cats, the author whom the Dutch middle class knew best, wrote eloquently on the subject’, namely ‘the ideal of feminine passivity’.153 Cats would indulge in a poetic dream in which he ‘sketched a world ideal for him as a man’.154 His admonitions, advice, counsels, hints, and prescriptions would form – with the seductive weapon of rhetoric – a suit of armor through which ordinary and talented women would be hampered in their development.155 Cats forges his rhetorical ability, gained as a lawyer, into a powerful weapon: it enables him to sing the societal subordination of women in his extensive works of poetry. Cats uses ‘narrative strategies’ to confirm a moral. In summary, Cats maintains a comfortable ideal in which he argues – through a ‘rhetorical masquerade’156 – for a role pattern that confirms the subordinate position of women.157 He would defend an asymmetrical conjugal bond, an unequal conjugal exchange (female obedience in exchange for male love), spatial segregation of male and female worlds, where the woman should be confined to private life where she is given a nurturing function. In other words, Cats, like other moralistic writers of his time, affirms the patriarchal order. In fact, the same thing is happening here with Cats that we have also seen with the work of Simon Stevin. All sorts of contemporary experiences, notions or desires are projected onto their work. In Stevin’s case these projections came, among other things, from the world of the modern civil engineer. In the work of Cats, those notions come from various contemporary social movements. Implicitly or explicitly, one places values or expectations in the area of a civilizing offensive, moral uplift of the people, sexual liberation, women’s emancipation, or selfdevelopment, to provide an interpretation of Cats' statements within that horizon. All in all, the image of Jacob Cats as it emerges from the secondary literature of the last thirty years can be characterized as follows. He is an influential marriage counselor who with his writings operates tactically in Dutch society, where a wealthy and Calvinist-oriented bourgeoisie is looking for its own identity and a civilized lifestyle. That image lingers, even when it is nuanced, adjusted, or reversed at points. Cats is and remains a right-minded Calvinist, even though he was Roman Catholic by birth and did not join the Reformed Church until he was thirty.158 He remained a Calvinist even though his well-stocked library included classical-pagan and Catholic books, and at the end of his life he equally reached for pietistic works, such as De Imitatione Christi by Thomas à Kempis.159 Cats remains the fighter of witchcraft and superstition, even when it appears that magic, alchemists, and miracle mixtures played a recurring role in his life at times of shaky health. In that respect, the magic device included in Cats’ bequeathed 20 belongings (‘a piece of unicorn, which is known to possess in various respects of great power, known to women’) is merely a curiosity.160 Jacob Cats is and remains our Dutch national moralist. That position does not falter when it appears that he combines his ideal of marital happiness with a paradise story in which the hierarchy between man and woman is confirmed and the woman loses her independence.161 It seems as if nothing can tarnish his image as a moralist. Whether his sermons, dreams, prescriptions, or future ideals benefited the people, the bourgeois elite or the man, or were at the expense of this or that population group, it matters little. Whether Cats speaks from an erudite wisdom on the subject of marriage and education or, as recently stated, ‘for the purpose of teaching and amusement’ (in contrast to the scientific knowledge of scholars), does not matter either.162 Whether Jacob Cats wrote sweetly flowing poetry or left an oeuvre consisting of a ‘profusion of aphorisms’, ‘proliferation of repetitions, enumerations and parallels’ and a ‘cumbersome narrative’, in short a ‘Catsian verbosity’, makes little difference to his place as the first people’s poet in Holland.163 And finally, despite his supposedly sensual nature, his voluptuousness, his earthy zest for life, his sensitive temperament, his urges, his penchant for opulence and his burning passions, Jacob Cats can still function as the personification of the Calvinist world of ideas in which sobriety and diligence, thrift and cleanliness are prominent virtues.164 In other words, it looks very much as if the image of ‘Vader’ [Father] Cats consists of very unequal building blocks, if not of opposites. The reception history shows repeatedly new valuations in which certain parts of the standard image are ostensibly affected. But over time, it appears that these new values or points of criticism are absorbed by the standard image. In this sense Cats has become a mythological figure in the strict sense of the word: a figure that incorporates many heterogeneous qualities and in which any time or any movement can recognize itself.165 This makes it even more necessary to start a meticulous historical research into the composition of his work. A new open-mindedness with regard to Cats’ ‘bourgeoisness’ and his ‘literary’ qualities will have to be the starting point.166 21 CHAPTER 3 JACOB CATS AND THE HOUSE AS HONORABLE ENTERPRISE 22 I know a certain house, where two married people Do each other honor, and offer each other sweet favors, For though difference arises around the house enterprise, No pouting is seen there, nor is any quarrelling heard: What elsewhere has the power to sharpen an irritated head, Can be appeased by honorable people; For though something arises that one or the other regrets, One saves it all until another time: And when the fierce blood has sunk down, And the malignant swelling at last has shrunk, Then the man summons the woman, the woman summons the man, Where none of the house can see or hear them; Then the book opens, one begins to consider How things stand everywhere, One comes to know what each one lacks, And who does its duties, and who falls short: And, if after careful consideration the fault is found, Then the guilty party is called to order with arguments. Tackled with reason, and powerfully persuaded, Because he has strayed from the path of love; Who must immediately and before the judges separate, Promise again to guide the heart, So that all tendency to resentment, and temperamental stupidity With steady care be restrained. There the lovers will go with determined minds Not to let regret or fierce blood win over them; And, by a firm determination to do so, The peace bond is sealed with a kiss. I praise this use, and could I wish it, I grant this policy to all kinds of people; For if this were to be practiced in every house, I'm sure things would go much better then. Jacob Cats, ‘Wife’ in: Houwelick (1625) 1712, Alle de Wercken [ADW] vol. I, p. 338. 23 Ick weet een seker huys, daer twee gehoude lieden Sich vieren over-hant, en soete gunste bieden, Want schoon daer rijst verschil ontrent het huysbedrijf, Men siet’er geen gepruyl, men hoort’er geen gekijf: Wat elders heeft de kracht een korsel hooft te wetten, Dat kan het eerbaer volck in stilte nedersetten; Want schoon daer iet ontstaet dat d’een of d’ander spijt, Men spaert’et altemael tot op een ander tijt: En als het vinnigh bloet ter neder is gesoncken, En dat het boos geswel ten lesten is gesloncken, Soo daeght de man het wijf, het wijf ontbiet den man, Daer niemant van het huys haer sien of hooren kan; Daer gaet het boeckjen op, men gaet’er overwegen Hoe dat aen alle kant de saecken sijn gelegen, Men stelt’et in beraet al wat er yder schort, En wie sijn plichten doet, en wieder blijft te kort: En, als na rijp beraet de feyl is uyt-gevonden, Soo wort die schuldigh is met reden in-gebonden, Met reden aengetast, en dapper overhaelt, Om dat hy van den wegh der liefden is gedwaelt; Die moet van stonden aen en eer de rechters scheyden, Beloven op een nieu sijn herte soo te leyden, Dat alle wrevel-sucht, en korsel onverstant Sy met een staege sorgh gehouden in den bant. Daer gaen de lieven heen met vastgestelde sinnen Geen spijt of hevigh bloet op hen te laten winnen; En, tot een vast gemerck van soo te willen doen, Soo wort het vredenbont versegelt met een soen. Ick prijse dit gebruyck, en stont het my te wenschen, Ick gunde dit beleyt aen alderhande menschen; Want soo in yder huys dit wierde na gedaen, Ick meyne voor gewis het souder beter gaen. Jacob Cats, ‘Vrouwe’, in: Houwelick (1625), Alle de Wercken [ADW], 1712, dl. I, p. 338. 24 3.1. Introduction. The Arrangement of the House as Enterprise The ‘literary and cultural-historical’ significance of Jacob Cats can hardly be overestimated, writes Hans Luijten (1996) in the introduction to his study edition of Sinne- en minnebeelden.167 Luijten therefore values this work as an ‘influential Ethics in which sense-making thoughts and wise lessons can be found on a wide variety of matters’.168 Cats deals with themes such as love and sex, the relationships within marriage, the education of youth, illness, dying and death. The human characters are very diverse, as they include young and old, rich and poor, man, woman and child. With its combination of erotic, societal and religious insights, this ethic does its work in Cats’ emblems. On the one hand, the emblems prompt reflection on human behavior and, on the other, they offer norms of acting. ‘Time and again in the Sinne- en minnebeelden this is done using analogies between occurrences in nature or everyday life, on the one hand, and desirable or undesirable human behavior, on the other. Through subjects and examples partly invented and partly found, the volume offers a comprehensive moral teaching,’ according to Luijten’s conclusion.169 Many of the aspects he mentions are also applicable to the Houwelick (1625).170 In it Cats displays the same overwhelming attention to subjects that concern life in general. At the same time, he plays with literary and poetic conventions and provides the work with visual material. A striking example of this is the preceding quote, in which Cats presents a description of a good marriage. Both spouses devote themselves to each other, they give each other affection, they listen to each other and adjust each other. The resentment that sometimes arises, the anger that flares up, the screaming and whining when the household doesn’t follow the rules, all that is appeased for the sake of the sweet peace. Reason triumphs, each does his/her duty and stays on the outlined path. Such a marriage is commendable, according to Cats. If everyone would keep to it, it would benefit all houses. In fact, in these views on marriage he agrees with many contemporaries. He also testifies to this himself. Preceding the aforementioned quote, he points to De Christiana conjugatio by Desiderius Erasmus (1469-1536).171And elsewhere he cites Juan Luis Vives’ De institutione feminae christianae (1523).172 Cats’ utterances on the woman, about the girl or about the nuclear family fit into the matrimonial tradition that starts with Erasmus’ De laude matrimonii declamatio (1518).173 From that moment on, the position of the woman as a spouse, as a housewife and as a mother is appreciated in a positive sense by the Christian humanist scholars. One therefore advocates an education of the young girl, albeit related to her future domestic duties.174 From this one might conclude that Cats’ views on the house virtually coincide with those on a good marriage. But that conclusion is all too premature as will be seen. The issue of early modern matrimonial morality in which marriage, house, and housewife are propagated is no longer absent from modern historical and literary25 historical debate.175 For this chapter, I would like to limit myself to three views. First, there is a social historiography of subjects such as nuclear family and marriage, woman, labor and sexuality, child, and education. These studies emphasize the question of how much and in what way Christian-humanist convictions have permeated daily practice.176 Beginning with a sketch of the thinking on the subject to be addressed, they then test the influence of that thinking against historical reality. Of course, opinions on the nature of this influence are not always the same. The historian Els Kloek, for example, pointed out significant differences in the appreciation of Protestantism. ‘Some people believe that Protestantism provided the patriarchal power of the householder and with it the loveless and hierarchical relationships within the nuclear family, others argue that the Protestant appreciation of the marital state was an impetus to the modern, loving marriage as it would have developed in the course of the Early Modern time’.177 But in both cases the thrust of a particular way of thinking is derived from and related to everyday reality. It has therefore become common to link the increase in matrimonial writings to changed socio-cultural circumstances. Both the urbanization from the twelfth and thirteenth century onwards and the increasing importance of burghers and a well-ordered household are seen as important factors in this. Pleij rightly points out that the notion of order in the house was partly taken over from monastic culture and was further derived from ‘antique instructions on the organization of the household’.178 This state of affairs can also be read in the, from the fourteenth century onward, also in Dutch widely distributed text ‘Hoe men dat huysghesinne regieren sal [How one shall govern the house-family], which according to the history of printing was eagerly absorbed within the towns’. The upgrading of marriage as an ecclesiastical sacrament (and thus an upgrading of sexuality) is also mentioned as an explanation for the many matrimonial writings. Since Augustine, the Church has considered marriage a less perfect state than celibacy primarily because of sexuality. Because of procreation, sexuality (within marriage) was tolerated and the bond between wife and husband was understood as one of the marital goods (bonum matrimonialia).179 Van Eupen refers to the revision of this view as expressed in the fifteenth-century work ‘Het prijzenswaardig leven van de gehuwden’ [The Commendable Life of the Married] by Dionysius, the Carthusian monk from Roermond.180 Already earlier (1373), the Deventer-born Geert Grote wrote De Matrimonio (‘On Marriage’), a rhetorically composed treatise in letter form.181As important as such socio-cultural factors are, their influence on conceptual and literary developments – as Pleij, Spies, Van Eupen and Van Oostrom have shown – is often less direct. A second approach is therefore found in literary-historical studies. These put more emphasis on the composition of matrimonial thought. On this basis, one asks how this kind of thinking permeated texts of later date. Or one questions the impact this thinking had on the status, work and image of the scholarly woman, 26 such as Anna Maria van Schurman, Anna Roemers Visscher or Johanna Coomans.182 The literary historian Marijke Spies, who has published several times on this topic, points out that in literary historiography different weights are given to early modern marriage morality and to the place of women writers.183 ‘Seen from the perspective of the ideal of the bourgeois family, as it seemed until recently to have nestled itself immovably in our culture, the views of Erasmus, Vives, Cats, Van Beverwijck and Anna Maria van Schurman were certainly progressive. The ideal of wife and mother has for centuries pushed the image of the working woman out of the consciousness of the seated bourgeoisie and thus out of the culture, which was the privilege of that bourgeoisie. This despite the thousands of women who were also employed in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries in crafts and merchandising. In the course of the eighteenth century the intellectual component of that ideal even seems to lose out to the quiet, moral, sensitive component. Seen from that perspective, Charlotte de Huybert [female author of the Dutch seventeenth century] was societally and historically wrong. But seen from today’s situation she was right: it is the working woman who has given the intellectual woman her real, societal right to exist’.184 Given the question this chapter poses, I will explore a different path. And this is for two reasons. On the one hand, the attention paid in studies of this kind to the house is mostly transient. The house is an obvious appendage of the (good or bad) views on marriage and housewife. On the other hand, both Kloek and Spies point out the risk of an overly committed attitude – in terms of ‘gain or loss for women’, ‘the degree of women’s oppression’, ‘emancipatory historiography’ or ‘progressiveness’ – towards the historical material. ‘With respect to history, it is then only a question of which moment is taken as the future of the past’.185 The work of Cats illustrates how justified this warning is: we will see repeatedly in the following sections that his oeuvre is a veritable treasure trove of diverse and even contradictory utterances. One can always find arguments to support a certain view regarding marriage, woman and man or the house. For example, based on current studies, one can very well defend that Cats, following Erasmus and Vives, launched a new civilization offensive. ‘Men act in in the world, while women do the housekeeping. Traditional as this may seem to us, in Heinsius’ time it was a rather new conception, that was defended for the first time, and very seriously so, by humanists such as Erasmus and Vives’.186 But the opposite perspective is equally defensible. In doing so, one sees Cats as representing the widely held view (even among humanists) that women are ultimately fit only for marriage. ‘The analyses of Jacob Cats’ work show how male-specific his language is and how much the marriage ethic he propagates men privileges men at the expense of women. The veiled way in which this finds its expression in his language has, in the past, led even literary scholars to mostly fail to see through the androcentric message’.187 Supported by negative views of feminine nature that have circulated in European culture since classical antiquity, 27 early modern authors such as Cats therefore defend that the purpose of life for women is to subordinate themselves to men, and to do so within the house.188 ‘How could that be otherwise? The Bible, then still the most important book for almost everyone for all questions of life, taught that the woman had to be obedient to her husband, the head of the household,’ according to Kloek.189 In line with this, (literary) historical studies foreground the first women poets and female scholars as special exceptions to this rule.190 In this kind of studies one is looking for a ‘kink’ in time: one hopes to find the historical moment at which the renewal begins. In a similar way to Simon Stevin, certain ‘modern’ views of an early modern author are highlighted, while others are dismissed as ‘outdated’ and ‘obsolete’.191 For both reasons, I will treat with caution many results of recent (interdisciplinary) historiography concerning ‘woman’ and ‘marriage’ in the early modern period. For the moment, I merely point out that my questioning is distinct from both perspectives. In fact, I see more in (otherwise unconnected) works such as that of Ruth Kelso (1956), Julius Hoffmann (1959), Ian Maclean (1980), Steven Ozment (1983) and more recently that of Rosalind Brown-Grant (1999). These researchers do not depart so much from a modern emphasis on opposing interests of women and men where marriage, sex and labor are concerned. They focus their attention primarily on formation of a treatise as a whole in which these issues are embedded, the rhetorical tradition and genre of which it is a part, and the purpose with which it was written.192 Thus, its rationality can be illuminated, rather than a moral judgment.193 Subsequently, it can then be explored in what ways utterances about man, woman, and sex, marriage, sex, and labor are connected to themes of mutual obligation, reconciliation, and self-conquest, as well as to the humors that the emotions engender. It is then striking, for example, that in the quoted verse fragment from Cats, there is talk of ranting, quarreling, and pouting in terms of ‘wrevel-sucht’ tendency to rancor], ‘vinnigh bloet’ [ferocious blood], ‘boos geswel’ [malignant swelling] or ‘hevigh bloet’ [adrift blood]. Because these things are less obvious nowadays, these kinds of ‘trivialities’ are usually treated as outdated, redundant, and not very rational insights. Sometimes they are somewhat dutifully summarized, but more often they are passed over as irrelevant in the actual analysis. Analogous to the architectural historian stepping over certain outdated trivialities concerning building materials from the early modern building industry (2.1.1.). Such attention to embedding conceptions of woman and man, marriage and labor in early modern thought as manifested in writings has two advantages. First, it allows us to trace long lines and continuities in thinking about the house and marriage, about ‘het gezin’ [the nuclear family], the woman, and the man. In this way one is also better able to follow developments (e.g., within medicine, theology, legal and ethical thought) or to trace the direction of intellectual traffic. Second, one can try to name the internal rationality that makes disparate 28 arguments coexist in a writing. For example, early modern knowledge of what I tentatively call ‘the conjugal substance’ appears to be an assemblage of various contemporary disciplinary debates, ancient folk wisdom, and classical views. The paradox that presents itself in the analysis of the status of ‘the house’ in the work of Jacob Cats is that, on the one hand, modern conceptions of gender and sexuality often determine the question almost uncensored, while, on the other hand, one is deeply imbued with the historical determinacy of his work. One sees the latter confirmed in Cats’ dated views on gender and sexuality. The circular reasoning in which literary-historical texts (and historical visual material) are put forward as proof of what people today think anyway has already been denounced by Grootes in a related issue. ‘By now enough is known about “The Battle for the Trousers” in the late Middle Ages and early modern era to make Huygens' statements fit in effortlessly. If we realize, however, that this general picture is partly based on literary texts, it might be a good idea to step out of the vicious circle and take a closer look at one such text’.194 The analysis of the historicalliterary text requires a specific expertise and questioning, according to Grootes, which does not coincide with that of the historian.195 If one wants to be able to determine the relations between a text and its societal context, one has to stick to a certain order. In this regard, Spies pointed out that the study of a text and ‘the place it occupies within the historical context from which it was written’ is a priority and should therefore precede the question of ‘the function it fulfills within the context in which it was received’.196 The context of a text is multiple and not monolithic and static.197 Only by examining this historical text can one assert, Spies argues, that one ‘knows both substantively and literarily “what it says”’.198 Sonja Witstein (1980) once observed that Jacob Cats, through his use and adaptation of classical sources and through the stories he retells, participates in a field of knowledge that goes far beyond the boundaries of the Dutch Republic. He is captivated by issues that many other early modern authors are considering. ‘If he had not been a Calvinist Zeeuw [born in the province of Zeeland, hdm] but a Catholic Castilian’, Witstein writes, ‘he might in principle have made the same choice of material (...). After all, the interest in marriage, marital morality, etc. is typically European-humanist, has its classical roots with the Greek and Roman moralists, and is not at all concerned with the Rome-Geneva border. Jacob Cats joins (...) the tales in the ranks of the humanist scholars for whom matrimonial matters were an important matter’.199 And indeed: Cats considers himself supported by the ‘outstanding personages of all centuries’ who have continually devoted their minds to the question of marriage. Emperor Justinian and the divine lawgiver Moses, Hebrews, Jews and Jesus Christ are mentioned by him. But also, Greeks like Xenophon or Aristotle and Romans like Cato or Plutarch. Even the Bishops and Popes of Rome have made what he considers to be important utterances about marriage.200 29 Although Cats’ erudition is widely recognized, my concern in this chapter is not so much with the person of the Calvinist Cats as an exponent of Dutch culture in which elite literacy was a fact of life.201 Thus, Schenkevelt-Van der Dussen introduces Jacob Cats as ‘the popular poet,’ or ‘the poet who did the most for the education of Dutch people’.202 Spies underscores something similar when she remarks: ‘In several works, the huge didactic poem Marriage (1625) and the collection of versified stories, called Wedding Ring (1637), above all, Cats had in endless verses propagated the characteristics, virtues and duties of the Dutch burgher house-wife: and with considerable success’.203 Nor am I concerned to place Cats in a European area that would be conceptually homogeneous and in which all participants in the debate would formulate and circulate similar thoughts. My question, conversely, concerns the specific internal composition of the Houwelick given the multiplicity of writings that Cats brings together in it. A question that arises from my amazement at the customary emphasis on the (Christian-humanist) morality that his work supposedly harbors, while the nature of his writings in terms of content and style varies greatly and is often treated as a frill of his didactics. The reverse seems to be the case with Constantine Huygens. Huygens, who treated similar themes about (women’s) life in the house, as in the poem Dagwerck [Daily Work] dedicated to his wife Susanna, is considered first and foremost a poet who, given his literary qualities, can naturally compete with other poets.204 The ‘Christian-humanist standard’ Huygens defends, despite some somewhat ‘flippant,’ ‘libertine,’ or more morally risky transgressions, is beyond dispute and is generally not the subject of scrutiny.205 Anyone with an understanding of the sixteenth-century matrimonial writings of Erasmus and Vives or, for example, the work of a Petrus Wittewrongel on the Christian household (1655), can conclude that Cats had little new to offer in terms of content.206 What he writes is rarely original, but that was normal in the early modern era. The use of authorized commonplaces is therefore normal.207 The work of named authors is often ‘highly complex, encyclopedic, and eclectic’ and often consists of ‘a variety of ingredients which do not seem compatible with each other’.208 When Cats refers to an author such as Tiraquel, Erasmus, or Montaigne, he is mostly referring to a finding place for arguments.209 Given the stakes of my book and the scope of Cats’ work, mapping these kinds of finding places in detail was not an option for me. In part, they are known through the footnotes that Cats himself added.210 In part, this has already been done by Luijten for another work by Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden.211 In doing so, Cats draws on compilations and anthologies in which conjugal themes and motifs in the form of parables are orderly collected. Erasmus or Tiraquel, for example, make the abundance of knowledge of classical writers, Church Fathers, and contemporary commentators accessible in the form of a collection of commonplaces, a phenomenon that can be 30 understood as a kind of early modern ‘search engine’.212 The compilation literature ‘reached impressive proportions at the end of the sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth century, when humanist collections were merged. Inexhaustible funds of excerpts from Western European literature from Greek antiquity to their own time were then available to the literati, and it is safe to say that they did not hesitate to make use of it with some eagerness’.213 It is not for nothing that Cats says in his ‘Voor-reden’ [Preface] prior to the Bruyt [Bride] that the area from which he draws as a writer is an intensively ploughed field. Each author makes a selection from the ears of corn and arranges them as he sees fit.214 And in his Trou-ringh [Wedding Ring] Cats has a protagonist say that the library is like ‘a landscape’ through which one walks.215 This third chapter is primarily about the registers that Cats opens when he writes about the house. In the above quoted fragment, we already catch a glimpse of this through the terms in which he speaks. Passions, honor and reconciliation, regret, guilt and promise, disagreement, love and reason characterize Cats’ domestic enterprise. The ‘originality’ of his treatment, then, lies in the way he plays the diverse registers and combines the commonplaces into a new whole. Cats appears to be abreast of the medical knowledge of his time which includes both the classical humors of Galenus and more recent anatomical knowledge.216 In addition to philosophers like Aristotle and Plato, he refers equally well to the Bible and Church Fathers. Cats invokes Augustine (who tries to unite Christian values with Platonism) as easily as Thomas Aquinas (who does the same but with Aristotle) or John Calvin.217 Furthermore, he devotes many columns to domestic economy, to cooking, all kinds of fragrant herbs, spices and pastries.218 In other places, with reference to Ovid and Petrarch, he comes to speak of perfect love, while elsewhere he brings up proverbs of Spanish, Arab, or Saracen origin.219 In addition to the sixteen marriage laws of the French jurist André Tiraquel, Cats also writes about women practicing the art of drawing, the art of poetry, or the art of singing.220 English pietists such as Smith, Gouge, Bayly and Perkins and the Zeeuw Teellinck place Cats alongside authors such as Quintilianus or Cicero who write about classical eloquence.221 In addition to eulogies to the Good Wife (a paraphrase of Psalm 31), he writes evocatively of ascension to the heavenly Jerusalem, gleaming with precious stones and gold-clad streets.222 Still other sayings recall the querelle des femmes [women’s quarrel], strijd om de broek [the battle between the sexes], and the Vrouwenlof [Praising Women], the famous issue that set so many pens in motion in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.223 In short, a closer look reveals Cats’ work to be a highly variegated and complex panorama, the significance of which cannot be reduced to the sources from which the author drew. ‘Interventions, alterations and combinations make the material used, whether fabric or vision, almost unrecognizable according to origin, while the nature of the adaptations themselves shows a great variety’.224 31 This remark by Herman Pleij about the processing of heritage into a new culture of the burgher at the end of the Middle Ages applies equally to the work of Cats. No wonder this vast and layered panorama stubbornly eludes a brief summary. The problem of order does not only impose itself on the present historian. It was felt just as much in the seventeenth century. The enormous influx of classical and Arabic writings from the eleventh and later again in the fifteenth century, the invention of printing which multiplied the amount of information available, made the selection of knowledge a necessity.225 It is precisely this compulsion to create order that brings about intellectual debates in Europe. From the sixteenth century in particular, people began to question, test, compare, and strive for a corpus of reliable insights from the abundance of heterogeneous insights. Questioning or establishing the authority of a classical writer, selecting authorized knowledge, and putting it into circulation, raises new questions and leads to new connections, but without completely breaking with prior knowledge and assumptions. ‘Its justification lies,’ Maclean reasons for his research, ‘in the belief that authoritative texts were influential throughout the Renaissance, that scholarship was not confined within disciplines, and that throughout Europe there was a form of debate and inquiry which sought interdisciplinary and universal validity for its interpretation of the world’.226 Thus, new ways of thinking emerged to interpret the world coherently while still relying largely on epistemological assumptions from before. This process has often been unambiguously interpreted by modern researchers as the appearance of ‘critical’ minds that took leave of traditional thinking. For example, the previous chapter showed that the emphasis in architectural history was placed more on the renewal and modernization initiated by Simon Stevin than on the natural philosophical assumptions on which he built, the arguments he derived from them, but deployed and combined them with new issues and thus helped to change the debate over time. A similar ‘critical’ attitude was taken toward the Bible. Also the study of the primary text, as witnessed for example by the argumentation of the Reformed William Perkins or the activity of Erasmus, was motivated from a humanist-renaissancist perspective, and this in order to confirm its authority.227 From an early modern perspective, however, it is not surprising that Cats, and with him many others, made use of the various ‘search engines’ known in Europe at that time. So, his Houwelick can be seen as the presentation of his choice and arrangement from a much wider field, but now in the Dutch language.228 One of Cats’ motives, the ability of the Dutch language to speak in a short and concise manner with monosyllabic words, reminds one of Stevin.229 Like Coornhert and Stevin, Cats also gives the argument that he wants to write for the benefit of his countrymen. Although they are able to read, they are unfamiliar with Latin.230 In this broad perspective, it is also not surprising that he lists entire catalogue of 32 questions in his Trou-ringh. The purpose of those lists is to determine the correctness of all kinds of old (e.g., derived from Scripture) insights. By this means one can understand why Cats ‘as a Calvinist’ enumerate numerous Renaissance questions about the naturalness (of love, of procreation, of some forms of marriage) and reasons about them in a logical way. Such questions are less obvious when approached primarily from the Catholic and Protestant teachings on marriage and family.231 It seems more accurate to examine the common tradition from which the early modern authors draw in order to appoint, on that basis, the different emphases they provide.232 Cats effortlessly seizes on stories from the New Testament, but also from the Old Testament and the classics, in order to discuss, by means of the familiar procedure of dialogue, the (un)naturalness of ‘veelwijverij’ [polygamy] and of state marriages (in which an envoy sleeps with the bride-to-be).233 He also reflects on issues such as ‘surrogate motherhood’ (in case the wife turns out to be infertile), sexual fantasies during procreation (in case both man and woman are ugly) and the question whether a woman should go to court in case of ‘sexual harassment’ or to what extent a ‘lesbian marriage’ should be possible (in case one of the women transforms into a man after all).234 Other questions concern whether not only a woman, but a man too can be ‘geschaakt’ [abducted], ‘whether a marriage is better for man or woman’, ‘whether it is wise for a woman to marry a man who has never had a woman’, ‘whether a wife can be bequeathed to another man by a will’, ‘whether it is wise for a woman to marry an educated man’ and ‘whether a woman can be head of the house’ (in case she has more brains than her husband). These are all questions that go far beyond the familiar theologicalmoral framework of the time. They attest to a very broad mind thinking about a wide range of possibilities and variants that we encounter so often in early modern culture. All this in the light of the accepted legal view that ‘het houwelick te wesen een wettigh t’zamen-voeginge van man en wijf, medebrengende een onscheydbare gemeenschap van leven’ [marriage is a legal union of husband and wife, which brings with it an inseparable communion of life]’.235 In the more elaborate variants mentioned by Cats, it is added that marriage is a union instituted by God, and that in the marital gathering one serves God in purity, and thereby cause both God’s church and the world to grow. Most of the commotion in Renaissance thought arose around the role of women and their place in the house. The writings of the early modern period attest to very different views. The difference from what is said about the man’s place in the same period is remarkable. Kelso, in an analogous examination of the writings on the man, noted that the man is assigned a very consistent place in the world. How is this conceptual difference to be explained? Her explanation is as brief and powerful as it is speculative: ‘I venture to suggest here (...) that the ideal set up for the lady is essentially Christian in its character, and the ideal for the gentleman essentially pagan’.236 Similarly, Maclean’s analysis of the ‘notion of woman in the 33 Renaissance’ shows that in disciplines such as law, medicine, ethics and theology, more (both laudatory and malevolent) opinions have been formulated about the woman than about the man in the course of Western history. In debates about procreation, divine grace, as well as sexual intermediate categories (such as hermaphrodites) or pregnancy fantasies, any revision of her physiology and psychology, of her legal, ethical, and theological status implies an affirmation of her volatile nature. In contrast, the man seems to be much more conceptually stable and seems naturally capable of absorbing paradoxical positions.237 ‘The good master of the household who is also a good citizen possesses two sets of virtues, one for commanding and one for obeying. In both perfection is possible. (...) The pater familias-civic is not therefore in conflict with himself but fulfils in different ways contrary functions by the exercise of the same generic virtue’. In the coming chapter, I would like to try to continue along this path of inquiry – the third view which I think is fruitful. Would it be possible to see the broad intellectual attention to all sorts of aspects surrounding ‘woman’, ‘marriage’ and ‘house’ in the early modern period as part of a more general process in the Renaissance aimed at seeking conceptual order or purification? The enormous influx of assertions and insights made it necessary for early modern authors to have tools with which to separate the ‘chaff’ from the ‘wheat’. What the scholars seem to be aiming for in the first place is a certain overview in the intellectual domain by reducing the number of theories. By reducing the number of possible interpretations, relating them in a logical and systematic way – or even better – finding a new truth. This was partly achieved during the seventeenth century. In the field of natural philosophy, for example, although the term ‘scientific revolution’ has been used to emphasize mainly its manifest effects and less its genesis. Another area where this debating proved particularly useful was in writing about the house. By thinking about the house, about marriage, about the mutual relationship between woman and man, all kinds of aspects can be ordered. In other words, the appearance of the many writings on marriage and women did serve a purpose, but a different and more abstract one than is usually thought. I would like to see the matrimonial tradition, the praising of women, but also the profusion of prints on ‘The Battle of the Trousers’ or the depictions of ‘witches’ as manifestations of this urge for order. With the latter, however, I anticipate the status of visual depictions, a question to which I shall return in greater detail in Chapter 4. My reading of the Houwelick differs from the usual approaches in two ways. First, I do not consider it useful to give a short ‘summary’ of Cats’ argumentation concerning the house. After all, I am primarily interested in the layering of that argument. I want to delve into the question of which connections are made and which are not. Which clichés are borrowed from elsewhere? Which authorities are cited, nuanced or contradicted? In other words: I would like to proceed in the 34 same way as with Stevin. His conception of the house only took shape through his thinking about inanimate substances and living creatures, about numbers and lines, about columns and delight. By analogy, Cats’ conception of the house only takes on relief in an account of dignity, honor, and shame, of human passions, of gems and their natural inclinations, of the divine dimension of procreation, of rhetorical golden mean, and of Christian housekeeping. Second, I will not rely on the ‘chronology’ of Cats’ exposition on the house. In fact, his Houwelick rests on a tried and tested method – also used by Erasmus and Vives – namely, a description of the successive stages of a woman’s life.238 Cats’ presentation of the ‘conjugal substance’ has obvious advantages. It provides the exposition with a clear form, and it keeps the reader focused, even in places in the text where he does stray very far with his exempla. Adhering to Cats’ order, however, also has drawbacks. What Cats says ‘between the lines’ – and what is left out in summaries as ‘fringe’ – comprises large parts of his Houwelick. It is often these elaborations that make Cats’ account special and distinguish it from many ‘similar’ writings. A concept like the house takes shape in the Houwelick in different ways. In the following chapter, therefore, I will follow different paths. The first part again consists of a presentation of some layers in their inner coherence. The layers are relevant to Cats’ conceptions of the house. The building blocks are drawn from diverse passages of the more than two-hundred-page Houwelick. The first section points to the classical origin of the house as a demarcated territory (3.1.1.). The house is the foundation of the domestic economy. The substances and objects, the plants, animals, and spouses that Cats describes so vividly evoke an almost physical context, even without the visual material. This section is concerned with the order of things brought about by them and with the human beings who, in their interaction, bring about marital practice. It will then become apparent at a later stage that Cats uses such life-like descriptions as persuasive means of convincing his readers as eloquently as possible of his views on the art of living well. In the second section (3.1.2.) I will deal with the various characters he introduces.239 Cats considers their nature and their mutual connections as parts of a cosmic whole that transcends them. Without insight into Cats’ views on the God-created meaningful order in Nature, many of his statements about marriage and the house remain arbitrary or prosaic. Section 3.1.3. moves us to the inner domain of the human being: a physical territory where passions rule. The humors rule here with all the consequences this has for body and limbs, for the interplay between the sexes and for peace in the house. To conclude the first part, I shall turn to the spiritual compartment (3.1.4.). In surrendering to a spiritual contemplation, Cats’ character finally transcends both the house and the body to enter into a vertical dialogue with God. In the second part of this third chapter, I will focus more on structure and cohesion in a similar way as was the case with Stevin. In section 3.2.1, honor and 35 dignity are central because Cats names the coherence of the domestic enterprise in these terms. This register of honor and shame has the necessary implications for Cats’ conception of ‘private’ and ‘public’. In section 3.2.2. from a comparative perspective, I point out some differences between Cats’ work and four other early modern writings in which the house plays a role. What connections are made elsewhere in Europe and at other times with respect to this theme? I will briefly discuss works by an anonymous Frenchman (made famous as Le Ménagier de Paris of 1399), I Libri della Famiglia (1434-1443) by the Italian humanist Leon Battista Alberti, La Perfecta Casada (1583) by the Spanish Augustinian Fray Luis de León, and Christian Economy (1609) by the English preacher William Perkins. What place is given to the (nuclear) family, the neighbors or the circle of friends in their exposition? In what terms do they speak about the man and the woman of the house, their mutual relations, and their position in relation to others? How do these texts speak about the household enterprise, about responsibility, about religion and about ethics? In doing so, I want to indicate the significance of Jacob Cats in the field of the art of living well [ars bene vivendi]. I will conclude this third chapter in section 3.2.3. with the strategic structure of the Houwelick. In it I consider Jacob Cats an eloquent orator who has clear views on the importance of the house and the household, of domestic enterprise and of the conjugal bond. With all the poetic means at his disposal, he tries to win the readers to his view.240 In this, Cats follows the ‘flowery’ strategy of eloquence that Stevin valued so much (although he considered it of little use to his architectural discourse). In combination with the engravings made by Adriaen van de Venne, Cats’ writing acquires a far-reaching mental effect that unmistakably surpasses the writings on the house of his early modern colleagues. 36 3.1.1. Household Goods and the Mistress of the House One of the oldest layers in Jacob Cats’ Houwelick is formed by the ancient house instructions as formulated by, for example, Xenophon (Oeconomicus) and Aristotle (Ethica Nicomachea and Politica).241 One finds them, incidentally, also in the agricultural writings of Roman writers such as Cato and Varro.242 Whether Cats draws directly from the classical writings or acquires his knowledge through selected fragments in sixteenth-century compendia is of little relevance to its use. Much more important, it seems to me, is the fact that this layer is clearly revealed in his text. Because the secondary literature does not usually focus on the ‘trivial’ work in the house, I consider a comprehensive presentation of the classical paradigm desirable. The overwhelming presence of ‘faits divers’ that Cats sprinkles through his Houwelick appears to be arranged in a classical framework of domestic economy. It is this far-reaching connection between the everyday things of life in the ‘household enterprise’ that the present section is concerned with. Cats is no exception in this regard. The domestic economy is a basic layer that has been transmitted in Europe from the antique period onward. Hoffmann has shown, for example, that many Greek and Roman conceptions of domestic order, founded on an aristocratic and agrarian community, were ‘Christianized’ as early as the first centuries of our era. The conceptions of domestic order embodied in the New Testament were thus carried through time. One of the most profound consequences, according to Hoffmann, was that even the master of the house was subject to a higher power, namely Christ. The woman is conceived as religiously equivalent to the man, which should lead the man to accept that. And finally, the slave too, through a reference to the next life, is equal in Christ. Thus, in a religious sense, man and woman and slave are equal. At the same time, at the beginning of the era, the significance of the house increases, not so much in an economic sense, but as a place where one can also serve God.243 And this not only in the Christian, but also in the Jewish religious view. Demyttenaere, Van Oostrom, Pleij and Meder have shown how this theme of the domestic economy resurfaces in Middle Dutch sources. Partly through instructions for monastic orders, partly directly drawn from classical writings and partly through the Bible, these ideas of the domestic economy are carried, reworked, and transformed through the centuries to eventually become part of ‘burgher’ culture. A work such as Hoe men dat huysghesinne regieren sal [How one shall govern the housemates/ household] that has been in circulation since the fourteenth century bears witness to this. A ‘tight governance of the household,’ Pleij said, ‘with a clear division of labor for all involved (husband, wife, children, service personnel), is offered therein concisely and point by point. It is always emphasized that one must cut one’s coat according to one’s cloth and, above all, 37 must manage one’s affairs well and orderly, or else one will inevitably end up in begging. And the keyword for such behavior, aimed at absolute self-maintenance, is wisdom, to be understood as practical insight and ingenuity’.244 At the same time a little work called Boek van Zeden [Book of Morals] is circulating (presumably as educational material), one part of which is devoted to practical domestic advice. ‘These advices deal, among other things, with marriage, the family, housekeeping, and the management of finances (the so-called economica),’ according to Meder.245 The ancient element of the household also appears on the surface in two texts that appear in the Dutch language at the end of the sixteenth century. Thus, Simon Stevin in Het Burgerlick Leven [Burgher Life] (1590) writes about the place of household order in relation to the town (he takes Delft as an example) and in the commonwealth, while Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert in his Zedekunst dat is wellevenskunste [Art of morals, that’s the art of the good life] (1586) devotes a chapter entirely to the ‘kunst van het wel huishouden’ [the art of good housekeeping].246 In addition, there are authors who try to see the classical, pagan ideas more explicitly in the light of Christian doctrine. The Lutheran Justus Menius is one of the first to write an Oeconomia Christiana (1529). He builds on the ideas of Greek housekeeping and on the status of the master of the house, but he endows these ideas with a higher purpose. The house is understood primarily as a divine order, based on marriage installed by God.247 Later, similar works appear in Reformed circles. In England William Perkins publishes his Christian Economy (1590) and in the Netherlands Petrus Wittewrongel writes his Christelijke Huishouding [Christian Housekeeping] (1655).248 What Jacob Cats does, then, is by no means new in this sense. Yet he differs from both Stevin and Coornhert (who see the proper running of a house as an act of wisdom and disconnect it from explicitly Christian motives), and from Menius, Perkins, and Wittewrongel (in which the domestic economy is a means to the Christian end). Cats’ Houwelick demonstrates a syncretistic approach in which, on the one hand, the ancient rules of a good household economy are identifiable and, on the other, biblical references play their own role. In doing so, Cats not only makes use of the New Testament, but he also draws extensively on the Old Testament.249 In the following I will deal with several layers.250 In the Greek polis, the proper management of the house (the oikos) is an inseparable part of the man’s public life as a burgher.251 The legal basis of marriage is the community of property, life and body, a principle that Cats also mentions.252 Only provided with a house and with a wife who manages the house and the possessions according to rules set by him, is the man able to bear his managing responsibility. Only then can a respected burgher lead his public life on the agora (‘the field’).253 The great value of the orderly management of his house, of his wealth and possessions, of offspring and the health of all the members of 38 the household, is reflected in the honorable status accorded to his wife. As the mistress of the house, she is given the responsibility ánd the respect that goes with the performance of her duties. Choosing a suitable partner is therefore an important matter.254 It cannot be said that the relationship between ‘town’ (or ‘state’) and household economy in Cats is entirely the same as in the antique. Nevertheless, in Cats too the founding of a house of ones own, the transition of a daughter from the house (and customs) of her father to the house (and customs) of her husband and choosing the right life companion are matters of decisive importance.255 Because the husband pays more homage to his wife’s family than to the family from which he himself comes (and vice versa), the new house takes the form of a family junction. The new house comes to stand between the two families. An appropriate financial arrangement of the dowry perpetuates this. But that only constitutes the beginning.256 The man who marries a woman, Jacob Cats believes, must also offer her a house.257 Leer hier uyt, deftig man, uw plichten onderscheyden, En recht uw palen op, en steltse tusschen beyden. (...) Ick bidde, nu de bruyt uw vrouwe wort genaemt, Soo gunt haer oock de plaets die haer en u betaemt. [Learn from this, dignified man, to discern your duties, And establish thy domain and build it up. (…) I pray, now that the bride is called thy wife, So grant her the place which is rightfully hers and yours]. This duty implies high demands on men’s competencies and abilities.258 Because men often do heavy and dangerous work, they also have great responsibility. Life at sea, building dikes, waging war, punishing people, traveling through town and country, through all of these men must exert considerable effort (bp.3.1.1).259 Cats therefore joins the ancient idea that men are ‘naturally inclined’ to these rough pursuits.260According to this natural-philosophical argument, man is more equipped than woman to live in the outdoors and it brings him honor that he does so. Labor, for example, is understood by Xenophon as supporting health and as part of life as a free man.261 He is more resistant to cold and physical exertion. The husband who is unable to build his own house or acquire the necessary household goods disgraces himself.262 The married man who lacks the abilities to provide his wife with a ‘roof’ over her head is seriously failing.263 Not only because he denies his wife a place where she can move freely and without fear.264 But especially because he denies her the running of the household economy (Cats aptly speaks of ‘huysbedrijf’ [house and household as enterprise, business]).265 39 Because by doing so the husband deprives her of the tools with which she can give form to her marital obligations. With all the consequences this has for the constancy and future of the house, the marriage, the household, and his own honor.266 Thus we see that Cats holds an antique conception of the house, which involves not only the material edifice, the household business, and the housemates. It also involves the labor the man performs outside the house and the acquisitions he brings into the house, which are kept, cared for, and arranged there by the wife.267 For her part, the married woman should also have competencies and skills for performing her duties. Because of her innate nature she is best suited to perform activities in and around the house (bp.3.1.2). ‘Al wat het huys vereyst, om in gemack te leven, Dat is, uyt eyger aert de vrouwen ingeschreven’ [All that the house requires, to live conveniently, That is, by nature enrolled in women], writes Cats.268 Fine handicrafts, such as sewing and weaving, spinning wool and flax, embroidering flowers on an embroidery hoop are skills she can use to her advantage in the household business. She can make shirts, bed sheets with her own hands, as well as artful tablecloths, napkins, and fine bleached linens.269 Reading (from the Bible or cookbooks), writing and poetry (of letters, uplifting verses, or elevated poetry), as well as singing (of a sacred song) and drawing (with pen and charcoal) are, according to Cats, skills indispensable to the married woman.270 The greatest honor a wife can bestow her husband is the exercise of her profession. Dividing the domains, the man in the street and the woman in the house, is a prerequisite for this.271 The miracle of Nature is precisely that men are strong because of the weakness of the woman.272 Cats cannot warrant a reversed division of labor.273 The burdens, efforts and competencies that divine Nature has distributed between the sexes would then only result in an unbalanced burden for both sexes and a violation of Nature.274 Married women who are engaged in commerce outside the house or men who sit at home and worry about the child, the maid and the food go against the innate nature of the sexes.275 For the widow, therefore, Cats foresees a loss of all the good that life has brought.276 In ancient thought, the man – after marriage had taken place – had the duty to initiate his young wife into the rules and laws of his home.277 Cats adheres to this principle but also makes a certain shift. He does not address the man, as in the Greek house economy, and speaks directly to the young married woman.278 But, he adds, a sensible reader will notice that in his treatment of conjugal work the duties of the husband are explicitly implied.279 In the old days, one made the bride the mistress of the new house by ceremoniously handing her the key. The key was the sign of a formidable power which only transformed the bride into a true wife.280 The young married woman is like a tree that is transplanted elsewhere, Cats writes. There she is first stripped of her young branches (or: her will). But young as she is, new shoots soon bone out, tending to the will and laws of her 40 husband.281 The husband should set her an example of the prevailing morals in the house. He should adjust her, watch her virtues, and he should praise her gifts.282, She should comply with him, like a sunflower turning with the sun.283 In this way he raises his wife to be a worthy, independent mistress of the house to whom the full responsibility of the household business can be entrusted.284 Through the knowledge of her household duties, she becomes a wife worthy of her husband’s name before other men.285 The spouse, in turn, can address the fulfillment of his public duties with peace of mind.286 Cats thinks of the house as a domain clearly separated from the street and the town, the meadows and polders, the dunes, and the sea. These are all territories where other mores prevail, and other laws are valid.287 In addition, the house itself is also a separate domain in its physical form. It is constructed from materials such as stone, lime, wood, and glass.288 The structure consists of roof, walls, floors, attics with beams, stairs, windows, and doors, both of which have locks and keys.289 It is a fairly differentiated structure, several parts of which were discussed in the previous chapter on Simon Stevin. The ‘voorhuis’ [front house] is located on the street side.290 There are windows there that can be opened. There is a front door with knocker that can be locked with a night lock.291 Several times Cats mentions a ‘achterdeur’ [back door], which is also equipped with a bolt, the so-called ‘smidsdochter’ [blacksmith’s daughter].292 Besides general terms such as ‘kamer’ or ‘vertrek’ [chamber] or ‘zaal’ [hall] he mentions others.293 There is mention of an ‘binnenzaal’ [inner chamber] with a fireplace, a chamber with a table for eating, a quiet chamber where books can be read, a small chamber for storing home-made medicines and a cellar.294 About the kitchen, sometimes equipped with a stove, sometimes with an open fire in a hearth or chimney with a kettle above it on the pot hook, Cats will make repeated remarks.295 This also applies to the bedchamber, a term he always uses to refer to the chamber of the spouses. This chamber has windows, curtains and a door that can be locked.296 Outside, but still belonging to the domain of the house, is the garden. Cats describes a garden full of flowers, herbs, and tree crops, an ‘open veld, te midden van de stad’ [open field, in the middle of the town] (bp.3.2.1-3).297 The construction of the house is obviously paid for by the man. But his money also goes to other investments. The necessary household goods must also be purchased.298 In the house that Cats describes, crockery and textiles, books, furniture, and food appear in large quantities.299 Their provenance is diverse, as is their quality and costliness. The abundance of objects necessitates a thoughtful choice on the part of the wifer, lest the house become overrun with useless things. The mistress of the house should note point by point what a household enterprise demands in terms of household goods. She sets out the measures for the inward regulation of the household business in what Cats calls a house-decree. ‘Let dat den oirboir eyst, en schrijft uw punten uyt, En maeckt een staets-gewijs een 41 dienstig huys-besluyt’ [Pay attention to what the use requires, write out your points, And make a list, a useful household measure].300 Apart from the nail-proof fireplace and hearth, the chambers of the house are equipped with furniture such as cupboard and chest, closet for clothes (‘pysel’) and pantry (‘spinde’).301 The chambers are filled with tables, benches and seats, bed, mirrors and paintings, candlesticks, candles and oil lamps.302 Furthermore, the housewife has to make her choice from pewter dishes, cups, jugs, pitchers and pans of native origin, Chinese porcelain or glass from Venice.303 Next, all kinds of textiles, such as napkins, bed sheets, tablecloths, linens, shirts, curtains and clothing are brought into the house.304 Cats mention fabrics of various qualities, often from overseas and very pricey. Velvet, satin, silk, wool, linen, fur, sagathy or satin move from the stalls in the market to the chambers in the house.305 And finally, books, old papers and letters make their entrance. 306Often because the master of the house needs them for his work, sometimes for the benefit of his wife.307 Now the proper management of the income contributed by the master of the house constitutes a classic first chapter in the household economy. Wasting money by buying too many goods or too expensive or not very durable fabrics is therefore something Cats considers reprehensible.308 The sensible mistress of the house should be able to make sharp judgments based on her knowledge of material properties. For example, she should know that not all fabrics are equally durable. Precious crockery, for example, requires careful handling. If she leaves fine tableware to her maid, she must reckon with the fact that these items may perish and the delicate porcelain fall to pieces.309 In that case, it is sometimes better, Cats advises her, to buy simple, indigenous fired crockery.310 But the same goes for too much frugality, because then not enough good-quality utensils, food, and clothing will enter the house. In both cases, the purse is badly managed, the hard-earned pennies do not get the credit they are due, and the household business is denied all kinds of conveniences. In line with this, Cats also expresses his concern regarding goods that get into the house unexpectedly. He includes buying on credit, but also accepting gifts from strangers. Borrowing utensils from neighbors also falls into this category. It is not uncommon for borrowed crockery to suffer a blunder in use, which not only clouds relations with the neighbors, but also scratches the reputation of the house.311 On all these points, the husband must establish clear house rules. ‘Het is een eerlick huys, dat op sijn eyge wet, verkeerde rancken weert, en goede regels set. Maeckt op uw eygen hant, en binnen uwe deuren, Een matigh keucken-recht en alle goede keuren’ [It is a respectable house, which at its own command, keeps out wrong branches, and sets good rules. Make of your own accord, and within the doors of your house, moderate kitchen habits with corresponding ordinances], says Cats.312 In this way the master of the house can counteract both ostentation and excess of earthly goods as well as avarice and excessive thrift.313 The effort it takes to acquire 42 property warrants good stewardship. Why else would one exert effort, when, once in the house, it is wasted or hoarded anyway? This brings us to the second rule of the household enterprise, namely, establishing and maintaining the order of things. The storage of objects, a theme already described by Xenophon, also appears in other early modern writings, such as Le Ménagier de Paris, and treatises by Alberti and Coornhert.314 Once the objects have made their entrance in an appropriate manner, they should not be allowed to roam around the house. They should be stored in a fixed place, such as chest, cabinet, and pantry (bp.3.3.2).315 For some items, that place is seasonal: for example, winter clothing is put in a closet in the summer.316 That the housemates can blindly trust the unchanging arrangement of utensils is an important point for Cats. This turns the house into a ‘place of order and memory’ that, with its efficacy, has a certain beauty in it.317 To ensure that items are not lost, each item should be returned or hung back in the same place immediately after use. Dat ieder sy besorgt te brengen alle ding, Ter plaetsen daer het stont, of van te voren hing; Al schijnt de leere slegt, noch sal de daet bewijsen, Dat uyt het tegendeel veel ongemacken rijsen; Wie eenig ding behoeft en niet terstont en vint, Die wort, gelijck men siet, niet selden ongesint.318 [That everyone takes care to bring all things, To the place where it stood, or hung in advance; Though the doctrine seems simple, yet the deed will prove, That if one does the contrary many inconveniences will arise; He who needs a thing and cannot find it immediately Will, as one often sees, not infrequently becomes dissatisfied]. Servants in particular must learn to keep order. If a servant or maid goes from one chamber to another, they should always ask themselves if there are any items they can take with them. Wanneerje meyt of knecht wilt voor of achter senden, Soo maecktse doch gewoon, eer sy de rugge wenden, Dat by hun met bescheyt sy neerstigh overdacht, Of daer geen dingh en is, om wegh te sijn gebraght;319 [When you want to send the maid or servant to the front or back of the house, Then make it habitual, that before they turn their backs, 43 That they consider with reason, and scrupulously, Whether there is not a thing that can be taken along]. In this way things constantly return to their proper place in the house. If household goods go missing despite this, then they must be diligently tracked down. Cats advises, however, not to be too quick to accuse servants of having taken something. Nor should one look secretly into her or his chest to see if there are any household goods hidden inside.320 Before one knows it, distrust settles in the house. Then – rule three – both the household objects and the chambers should be kept in good condition with care and routine. To this end, the wife constantly keeps an eye on the work, especially of servants.321 Floors must be mopped and sanded, cupboards polished until their shelves shine, table and bench rubbed, the sidewalk in front of the house scrubbed (bp.3.3.1, bp.3.4.5-6).322 Furthermore, beds are made, dishes are washed, laundry is cleansed and linens are bleached.323 Everything should be clean and orderly and ready for use. Furniture must be repaired in time and textiles should be aired regularly because of vermin such as moths.324 Clothes should be repaired or darned in time and stains removed. While narrating, Cats mentions numerous household remedies. He discusses how to remove grease or wine stains in satin or how iron stains will disappear with acid from a lemon. If a stain still remains visible, it can be turned into an ornament with a little dexterity and, for example, gold embroidery.325 All this work is not for the purpose of showing off. Excessive cleaning is for Cats, like Stevin, a troublesome side effect of female nature.326 Keeping chambers clean and all kinds of household goods are, in short, necessary means without which the household business stagnates.327 Cats compares the mistress of the house to the Ostrich bird, who permanently turns and twists her eye. Observation and supervision make the house clean and neat in all respects. ’k En segg’ niet dat de vrou sal met de leden wercken, Maer laet haer wacker oog op alle dingen mercken; Al wat’er omme-gaet en deugt gemeenlijk niet, Indien het huys-wijf selfs geen dingen nae en siet. Het ooge van de Struys (het is van outs geschreven) Dat broet alleen het ey, en doet haer jongen leven; Het toesien baert de vrugt. het ooge van de Struys Is van den ouden tijt een lesse voor het huys. Hoort mannen, vrouwen hoort; of wie het mogte wesen, Die onsen boeck misschien hier namaels sullen lesen, Wanneer gy nu en dan een vreemde wat gebiedt, Houd niet voor wel gedaen, voor gy het eerstmael siet. Het ooge van den heer verbetert alle saecken, 44 Het ooge van de vrou kan gauwe boden maecken; Het ooge van den heer dat maeckt de peerden vet, Het ooge van de vrou dat maeckt de kamer net.328 [I do not say that the woman should work with her body, But that she should look on all things with her diligent eye; Everything that goes around is usually wrong, If the housewife does not check things herself. Only the eye of the Ostrich (it is traditionally written) Breeds the egg, and makes her young live; Watching gives birth to the fruit. So the eye of the Ostrich Is of old, a lesson for the house. Hear men, hear women; or whoever it may be, Who one day shall read our book, When now and then ye command a stranger, Decide not that a thing is well done, till thou hast first seen it. The eye of the master improves all things, The eye of the mistress can make quick servants; The eye of the master makes the horses fat, The eye of the mistress makes the chambers tidy]. The last category of substances that Cats pays a lot of attention to is the food. Again, the wife must keep a close eye on what food enters the house. The stock of drinks, food and fuel must be kept up. One should never buy more than one can keep. So new goods must always be purchased on time. This means that the woman must have a constant overview of everything that is in stock and of the condition of the goods.329 Going to the market and choosing merchandise is therefore an important task (bp.3.4.1-3).330 If all goes well, every woman has learned this from her mother.331 But, Cats advises the woman (or her daughters or maidservant), always buy the best goods from a stall, because then one is best off.332 That does not mean the cheapest or in large quantities. In addition, she should be able to recognize the different types of food in the market stalls. She should know what kinds of meat come from cows or what is roasted wild, what comes from nearby orchards and what fruit has been brought in from afar.333 Cats outlines the rare situation in which the Republic finds itself as if by a godsend.334 The naturally meager country is, as if by a miracle, supplied with the most diverse kinds of food.335 From distant regions the most diverse goods are piled up in the attics. In addition to various types of grain, there are exotic and foreign fruits such as figs, peaches, grapes and lemons. But also sugar, pepper, mace, ginger, walnuts, cinnamon and other spices.336 Yet the surrounding areas also have plenty to offer, such as eel, cod and fresh haddock.337 There is bread, gingerbread, honey, cream, butter, fresh cheese and eggs in the house.338 Finally, 45 the kitchen garden produces all kinds of things. Cats mentions elder, pears, cherries, hops, but also thyme, wormwood, rue, endive, and chicory.339 As for drinks, there is a wide range of wines, such as from the Moselle Valley, French wines and Madera wine.340 As a common drink, Cats prefers beer because it is brewed from fresh clear water.341 In passing he warns, that water from a well is not drinkable until the sediment is at the bottom, a reminder of Stevin’s efforts on this point.342 In fact, Cats implements a whole classification based on whether a particular food is good or bad for health.343 Unhealthy substances should be avoided because they upset the body’s natural balance and can even make it ill. This also includes Cats’ advice to take into account an appropriate environment and the influence of the seasons. His fragments on ‘air’, ‘seasons’, ‘months’, ‘winds’, and ‘places and countries’ recall the wide attention these issues received in early modern architectural thought.344 Although his advice seem to rely on familiar proverbs or purely practical experience, they actually refer to the mutual coordination of moisture and drought, cold and heat, in food and body. Just as with the classical house economy, with Cats the well-being of the house stands or falls with the balanced health of the body. Cats considers the ‘art of well living’ to include attention to physical exercise and to stirrings of the mind.345 More than Stevin, who focuses on healthy building materials of the house, Cats pays attention to the building materials of the body. Too fresh bread, hot pastries, raw pears, too much eel and too young wine are better not eaten or drunk.346 Sometimes the powerful properties are driven out, as when bread is baked too hot: En laat geen heet geback uyt uwen Oven komen, Om t’wijl het werm is te werden ingenomen, Mijt oock dat al te lang gebacken heeft gestaan, Want daar uyt is de kracht ten deele weg gegaan. De kunst heeft over lang en meest van al gepresen, Broot open, fris, en nieuw en luchtig opgeresen, Gedesemt na den eysch dat duysent oogen heeft, Dan siet men dat de Geest daar in ten vollen§ leeft. De korste van het Broot soo boven als beneden, Dient ons te zijn gemijt of af te zijn gesneden, Voor die de galle vreest en wat’er uyt ontstaat, Want Broot dat korstig is, is voor de galle quaat.347 [And let no hot pastry come out of thy Oven, Cause it's too hot to be eaten Also avoid that which has been baking too long, For from it the power is partly gone. The Art [of baking bread] has since long and mostly praised, 46 Bread that open is fresh, new and airy risen, leavened according to the rules, gets a thousand eyes, Then one sees that the Spirit lives in it to the full. The crusts of the Bread, both above and below, Should be avoided by us or cut off, by those who fear the bile and what comes from it. For Bread that is crusty does evil to the bile]. Sometimes, too, bad properties of food must be eliminated by adding other substances (eels and pears can be improved by adding wine).348 Raw fish or hot spiced sausages are better left out altogether because they make one thirsty. Therefore, these foods are often the cause of excessive drinking. The regular elimination of bad substances from the body is also important for health. For example, when the ‘kamergang’ [bowel movement] doesn’t want to happen, it is advisable to eat prunes. Also, raisins or beet puree seem to work wonders in that case. Furthermore, one should comb one’s hair daily, wash, clean nostrils and ears and rinse the mouth.349 These actions make the evil vapors disappear and the body maintains its health. Sufficient sleep and exercising one’s body from time to time: all these things benefit. Jacob Cats said he drew these kinds of medical insights from the ‘High School of Salerne’, named after the eleventh-century Italian physician Alfanus of Salerno (bp.3.5.1).350 Salernus hooge School, versien van kloecke Luyden, Heeft niet alleen geleert de krachten van de kruyden, Maar heeft oock boven dien veel Regels uytgebracht, Wat iemant dient te doen en wat te zijn gewacht. Soo dat haar dienstig werck is over al gepresen, Ja by veel Prinssen selfs met aandacht overlesen, Wie recht na dese Leer sijns levens regel stelt, Word selden van de koorts of ander leet gequelt. [Salernus high School, provided with clever people, Has not only learned the power of herbs, But has also brought many Rules, What one should do and what one should refrain from So that her useful work is praised everywhere, Yes, is even read with attention by many princes, Who fully determines the rules of this doctrine for his life, Is seldom tormented by fever or other sufferings]. This school of medicine formulated rules for maintaining health that mainly concerned the balanced use of the right food. It is a fusion of the Galenic system 47 of humors with Arabic and Aristotelian views of Nature, in which bodily fluids such as bile, phlegm and blood and their mutual relationships play an important role.351 With wise policy, and with the help of herbs or grasses, beneficial roots or leaves and suitable food, the body can be kept healthy and diseases warded off.352 With this view, Cats stood in the midst of the seventeenth century, as Van Beverwijck’s Schat der Gesontheyt [Treasure of Health] (1636) illustrates. In it, Cats published his food advice in rhyme, to be later compiled and edited in his Tachtigjarige Bedenckingen [Contemplations by an Eighty-Year-Old]. In 1633, the physician Steven Blankaart published a work of similar import under the title De Borgerlicke Tafel. Om lang Sonder Zieckten Gesond te Leven [The Burgher Table. To Live Long in Health and Without Disease]. Field and forest serve human and animal as pharmacies, according to Cats.353 Nature offers her services for domestic ailments and accidents. The housewife can greatly help her husband and children with handmade medicines, garden-grown herbs or special foods.354 She can prepare ointments and plasters, powders and juices in her own house and store them in a ‘kleyn vertreck’ [small chamber]. In case of an emergency, such as a bump, a burned finger or a hole in the shin, the medicines are at hand. These household remedies also come in handy in case of fever, constipation, cough, tough phlegm, stomach and abdominal complaints, worms, or impotence.355 If necessary, advice can be sought from the neighbors.356 However, he considers a prayer before taking medicine always wise.357 In addition, great attention must be paid to the preparation of the food (bp. 3.3.3, bp.3.4.4, bp.3.6.1-2). Too often, Cats emphasizes, the kitchen in Holland remains unused and is nothing more than a cold chamber with dishes for decoration. Yet the well-being of family members, indeed the future of the house, depends entirely on whether cooking is done wisely.358 Which foods a human being likes, and which dishes him ill derive from the inherent nature of each body. Watching and learning about differences in nature is the basis for a good dish.359 Both the composition of an ordinary meal (in which sometimes rye soup or ‘salt and bread’ is sufficient), and the preparation of a guest meal, are therefore of great importance.360 This is equally reflected in the various ways in which food is processed.361 Like pickling fresh summer fruits for the winter, preserving carrots in brine or making your own jams and cakes.362 Roasting, broiling, boiling, stewing, frying (in the pan) and baking (in the oven), when done according to the rules, are means of increasing the strength of food.363 By combining flavors, making appropriate sauces, and estimating quantities, the food becomes a medicine and the wife a house doctor.364 Armed with this knowledge of the kitchen, the mistress of the house ensures that the health of her household members is maintained and the survival of the house is assured.365 Cats therefore considers the art of cooking a praiseworthy task for women.366 In following the rules, regulations and laws concerning table and kitchen, the mistress of the house also fulfills a divine duty.367 48 Ick wil maer dat het wijf de gaven van den Heer Sal koken op de maet, en rechten met der eer “Te nutten goede kost, en dat in rechter maten, “Te schaffen na den eysch, is ieder toegelaten; Hebt maer geduerig agt te loven uwen Godt, En hangt niet al te seer de sinnen aen de pot. Die sonder overdaet sijn tafel weet te decken, Het sal hem tot vermaeck en frisse leden strecken; Want die voor sijnen God een reyne maeltijt doet, Wort aen het lijf gesterckt, en in de siel gevoed.368 [I only wish that the wife will cook the Lord's gifts In the right way, and give the honor that is due to it ‘To eat good food, and to eat it in proper measure, ‘To be done according to the rule, is permissible to everyone; Take heed continually to praise thy God, And do not hang your senses to the pot. He who knows how to set his table without gluttony, It will please him and give him healthy members; For he who prepares for his God a delicious meal, Is strengthened in body and fed in soul]. Besides at the table, bodily fluids and health play a role in bed. After all, physical substances are also exchanged and mixed during human procreation, and therefore one must also follow a number of rules in this area, summarized in the ‘Teel-konst voor de gene die genegen zijn haar gesin en met eenen de Wereldt te vermeerderen’ [The Art of Growing for those who are inclined to multiply her family and at the same time the World].369 It is precisely here that Nature does her work in a way that remains hidden from human beings. ‘Natura doet haar werck, doch waar en hoe en wat, Dat heeft tot heden toe geen mensche recht gevat’ [Nature is doing her work, but where and how and what, no one has so far grasped that exactly], according to Cats.370 The future well-being of the child is at stake. That is why this part requires separate treatment, after the young woman has shown herself to be a good woman.371 That health is a precarious matter in this respect is shown by all kinds of diseases of the reproductive organs, by the dangers surrounding pregnancy and childbirth or the occurrence of monstrous miscarriages. Cats mentions in this area the violent differences of opinion between theologians and doctors, moralists and statesmen. Most of them consider too much and unregulated love to be the cause of these phenomena.372 But Cats, on the other hand, invokes ancient insights, to cope with the imbalances and dangers.373 By draining the best life juices, ‘voortteling’ [procreation] drains youth, strength, and vitality from the body, increasing the risk of disease and 49 death.374 Heart, liver and brain are easily affected. Someone who wants to make love too often can start suffering from gout, shortness of breath, cough, tuberculosis, and rheumatism.375 In Nature itself the examples are there for the taking. Sparrows that mate frequently live short lives. Trees overloaded with fruit and field flowers that generously shed their seed soon fade. In contrast, mules that refrain from mating retain their vigor until old age.376 Such rules also apply to human beings, Cats urges his readers. If the man has recently been ill, then his wife would be wise to spare him.377 If the woman is pregnant, it is better for her and for the new fruit that the man does not plough the field.378 If the pregnant woman has an appetite for strange food, it is granted to her: it is the fruit that asks for it.379 Moreover, Cats gives both the male seed and the mother’s milk (which is in his eyes transformed blood) a galenic meaning and speaks of ‘dierbaar nat’ [precious moisture] and ‘edel zog’ [noble milk].380 They are valuable gifts of Nature with which one should deal wisely.381 Just as with the ancients, procreation is for Cats a matter of divine Nature.382 For the sake of the fruit, man and woman must also keep measure in bed, because they are putting the survival of the house and even that of the world at stake.383 In this classical view of health, the bowel movement is a normal part of the metabolism, removing substances accumulated by food. In the same way, the ‘bij-slaap’ [sexual intercourse] should also be seen as the regular secretion of substances.384 In favor of marital ‘zaaiwerk’ [sowing], regularity and rest in its time is appropriate, as is choosing the right time. What one considers to be the right time depends on several things. Cats considers the early morning the most appropriate for health, because then the members are refreshed. But the evening offers the most pleasure. Geertrui, a young married woman who has an eye for both her health and marital pleasure, decides, as an anecdote quoted by Cats (referring to Van Beverwijck) shows, to choose both.385 Moy Geertruyt eerst getrout die was gesint te weten, Wanneermen alderbest den echten acker spit, Een geestig Medecijn beneffens haar geseten, Bedacht hem op de vraag en sey ten lesten dit. Wanneer de Dageraat haar rosen komt ontluycken, Dan is het spel gesontst en voor de leden goet; Maar die ontrent de nacht haar echte deel gebruycken, Genieten meerder lust en vinden meerder soet. Wel sey de jonge Vrou soo wil ick dan besorgen, Te plucken in het bedt de vruchten van de jeugd, Voor eerst om wel te zijn ontrent den rooden morgen, En als het avondt werdt dan om de soete vreugd. 50 [Handsome Geertruyt, newly married, planned to find out, When it was best to dig the conjugal field, A clever doctor sitting next to her, Pondered the question and finally said this. When the Dawn lets her red colors blossom, Then play is healthiest and good for the members; But who around the night use the conjugal parts, Enjoy more lust and find more sweet. Well, said the young Woman, so I wish to see to it, To pluck the fruits of youth in bed, First to do good in the morning, And when the evening comes, then for the sweet joy]. In the same medicinal perspective, Cats urges the mother, like the bat, to give the milk she naturally receives to her child. In particular, the first milk (‘biest’, colostrum) is a wondrous gift from Nature, as it helps to expel the tough mucus in the young born. ‘Natuure, Godes hand, die wet’et wattse doet, En hoe een swacke Vrucht behoort te zijn gevoet’ [Nature, the Hand of God, does know what she is doing, and how a weak Fruit should be nourished].386 Indeed, with the milk, the child sucks in the good qualities of the mother. Only in extreme need can the child be transferred to a wet nurse. In five pages, Cats describes with what great care a wet nurse must be chosen.387 Unlike the case in Greek economics, in Cats the upbringing of children appears to be implied in the management of the house.388 The mother keeps an eye on her child (bp.3.1.2, bp.3.2.1, bp.3.3.4). If it is small, she comforts it, cradles it when necessary or sings a song. If it is bigger, she watches it play in the house, how it behaves in play, the girl with her doll, the boy with his ‘koten’ [small stones].389 She teaches the child to sing, teaches it God’s Word, she teaches the child to speak the truth, learns to get rid of being stubborn and lying. In this way, the mother gives the child a treasure that will last a lifetime. Nothing praises a man more in his wife, says Cats, then when she surrounds and raises her offspring with mature care.390 The father, too, has his contribution to make. He must teach the child the rules by teaching it to read, or by appointing a wise teacher.391 Punishing, threatening with frightening bogeymen, ghosts or the devil is out of the question. It is better to instill in the child virtue and fear of God in His heavenly kingdom. To maintaining peace and tranquility in the house, it is not only necessary that objects and substances have their proper place and time. This also applies to the doings of household members. Cats says housemates shouldn’t take naps at the fireplace, but in the bedroom.392 Reading in bed or at the table is inappropriate: one reads separately, in a quiet room. If a married woman allows her husband to 51 bring books, old writings and letters into his office, she is not allowed to disturb him in his thoughts.393 However, in that case she may demand that he not read books in other chambers. If the man nevertheless brings his books to the fireplace, he is obliged to share with his wife what he is reading.394 Cats considers the table and the fireplace to be places of community, where housemates care for each other, keep each other company, show a happy face and talk to each other.395 The table is the place where table manners are practiced, where children are taught to eat what the pot provides and where a banquet takes place according to the rules of art.396 Sitting together at the fireplace, the master of the house is obliged to inform his wife about his activities in the world, to point out edifying matters, or to gladden her with joyful fortunes, but all this without gossiping about others.397 If he shirks this duty, he deprives her of the respect she deserves and deprives her of her connection with the world outside the house.398 Just as the wife binds her husband to the house with tasteful cooking, so the husband binds his wife to the world with his breathtaking stories. And this too ultimately benefits the house as a whole. In addition, should the husband die suddenly, his wife is aware of his affairs and is able to take the necessary action. Not only do the right places play a role in doing things in the house, but also right times. First, because time must be exploited. Following the antiques, Cats denounces laziness and idleness in all members of the family, because he considers it a refusal to use their talents.399 Secondly, not all times are equally suitable for taking care of household affairs. Some moments are more appropriate for eating than others. Other times are for doing things, and at certain other times it is better to rest.400 He earmarks eight hours to work, seven hours to sleep, four hours to devote to religious matters, such as reading the Bible daily (and according to a certain order) and saying morning and evening prayers. In the absence of her husband, the wife takes over the religious duties from him.401 Three hours are set aside to help others, for education or for meals. The remaining two hours serve to set one’s mind at rest.402 In this way, housemates have time during the day both for themselves and for shared activities. Regardless of the nature of the work, a person may be so engrossed in his or her pursuits that others have a duty to leave him or her alone.403 If the husband devotes himself fully to important matters, he may not be disturbed by his wife because of household concerns.404 But the same applies to the wife who devotes herself entirely to her duties: when she does the laundry, she must not be disturbed by her husband because of unexpected guests.405 In addition, there are fixed shared times for all housemates. Each should temporarily suspend their own activities at set times. At noon, for example, the husband comes home hungry and tired from work, expecting the midday meal to be ready.406 This implies that the mistress of the house and her maids stop the other activities in the house on time.407 52 Cats strongly criticizes the married man who denies his wife power over the household business. In doing so, the husband deprives his wife of her privileges as the mistress of the house.408 However, Cats does distinguish between several faults. First, there is the domineering husband who forcibly keeps his wife in the house.409 Such a man does not know how to distinguish between the exercise of authority in a marital relationship and his authority in other household relationships. Cats is clearly reasoning here in a classical context given his reference to the power a master has over a slave. Aristotle, for example, distinguished three types of relations in the house in this context: between husband and wife, father and children, master and slave. The master of the house unites the three relations in himself, and in this way, he makes three subcommunities into a whole.410 A second category is that of the meddlesome man, who does all the housework himself and considers his wife good enough only for the bed.411 Such a man disregards the natural need to divide the household labor. Just as God was unable to do all the work in the world himself and to that end lets man manage his own affairs, so the husband as head of the house should give his wife confidence by delegating the household business to her. As husband, he should leave her the power that is her due. Although somewhat veiled, Cats repeats an antique theme in this as well.412 And finally, he rebukes the husband who scorns his wife’s activities as if they were only ‘beuseldingen’ [trivial things].413 The household work may involve minor activities, but together they accomplish a work that is unparalleled, according to Cats. Not only the wellbeing and health of the family is at stake. The survival of the house as a whole can be made or broken by the order or chaos in the household enterprise.414 For this reason, Cats criticizes the short-sighted man who deliberately marries a stupid woman, or who chooses a woman only because of her beauty.415 He advises the master of the house to keep his wife fully informed of all matters concerning the house. In the unlikely event of his sudden death, his wife will have sufficient insight to handle his business arrangements.416 In addition, the master of the house should be open to wise counsel from his wife. Women, Cats emphasizes, are very capable of advising their husbands, also when it comes to matters of public administration.417 Although it is unusual for women to serve in public institutions because of a variety of customs in the country, that does not mean that they do not have the capabilities. On the contrary, country and church benefit when wise women advise and assist their husbands.418 But this is only true when men realize their own responsibilities, see the scope of their power and do not abuse it.419 Mirroring this, Cats points to the erring woman who only has an eye for outward appearances. Those who crave a handsome and cheerful husband, seek a man of high nobility, and who can only tell fantastic tales, will be disappointed.420 The end of the story will be a house full of overseas household goods and children who are raised in splendor for the sake of the family name. Not infrequently this is at the expense of her father’s and mother’s inheritance.421 53 In Greek times, the running, survival and value of the house was included in the context of the governance of the polis. ‘To govern the oikos is to lead, and to lead at home is no different from the power that someone has to exercise in the polis’, writes Foucault, citing Socrates’ view in this regard.422 Hoffmann points out that in this respect the householder is considered comparable to a politician and a field general, and this is because ‘keeping house’ serves a higher purpose, like the other activities.423 Jacob Cats in fact says something similar. In his thinking, too, the management and continued existence of the house is included in the governance of the commonwealth.424 In his view, neither the Church nor civil government can exist outside the house.425 The perfect marriage he sees as a ‘wondere smederij’ [miraculous forge] of human beings. It forms a substratum from which towns flourish and is a breeding ground for considerable administrators.426 Although Cats recognizes marriage as a God-installed, natural way of life, the success of marriage is determined by its good or bad policy.427 The praiseworthy execution of the marriage, the degree of tranquility, propriety, and well-to-doness of the household, all have far-reaching consequences for the ‘gehele menselijke gemeenzaamheid’ [whole of human commonality].428 To fail to do so would be to rob entire towns and countries of their prosperity.429 In this respect, he says, there is little difference between conjugal household and the management of church or state. For both high ecclesiastical and high secular offices it would be good to choose those characters who have shown themselves to be good administrators in their own households.430 The three household relations mentioned in Xenophon and Aristotle – the relation between husband and wife, between the father and his children and between master and slave – also play a role in Cats’ thinking. Only with him they are no longer grouped around the master of the house. The woman has the duty to take care of the household enterprise. As for carrying out household services, it is she who teaches her subordinates (maid, kitchen maid and cook) and her daughters.431 In this way the latter learn the rules of household enterprise by doing. They acquire knowledge that will be very useful to them later once they themselves have married. From the nature of things, therefore, one should not describe the wife as ‘vrouw van het veld’ [woman of the field] or ‘vrouw van de straat’ [woman of the street]. When she performs her household duties, it is her privilege to be called ‘huis-vrouw’ [house-wife].432 With this title, says Cats, one recognizes her conjugal duties of running the household as vital tasks for all well-being on earth. And it is the husband’s duty, even if he is the master of the house, to stay out of it.433 The pater familias should know how far his power extends. He must respect the proper rights that his spouse has.434 The honorable status of the wife (mater) is also recognized by dedicating marriage as a divine institution in her name (matrimonium).435 54 The mistress of the house who possesses full power over the domestic domain and fulfills this duty in wisdom, Jacob Cats considers a good woman.436 With a dignified posture, a straight back, a slow gait and the all-seeing eye, she follows her natural purpose.437 Foucault points out that in ancient texts, beauty occurs when the free individual follows and implements the innate abilities and capacities bestowed by Nature.438 Against this background, in which the echo of ancient thinking on the domestic economy is clearly noticeable, Cats’ description of the married woman as the ‘beste stuk huisraad’ [best piece of household goods] is a sign of respect.439 Conversely, his saying in which he describes the malicious wife as a phenomenon that is worse for an honest man than smoke in the house or a leaking roof is understandable. Not only is his house in a bad state then, but his whole life will end disastrously.440 To support his ode to the wise woman of the house, Cats repeats the most famous song of praise to ‘the Good Wife’ from Proverbs 31 (verse 10-31). Incidentally, these (as part of the wisdom literature) are held in high esteem in Jewish tradition and are traditionally regarded as tributes to women.441 As the following excerpt shows, the antique dignity ascribed to the wife in this biblical enumeration also resonates with Cats:442 Wie kan een sedigh wijf, gelijck het dient, verhogen? Sy is aan haren man een wellust zijner oogen; Sy is aan haren man, en al het huys, sy is Gelijck een sachte lauw ontrent de siecke vis; Sy is gelijck een schip, dat over zee gevaren Vervult het gansche lant met alle nutte waren; Sy is een hooft-juweel, een kroone voor den man, Die hem en binnens huys en buyten eeren kan; Sy is gelijck een tuyn, die, om den hof gevlochten, Bewaert het edel fruyt van alle snoep-gedrochten; Sy is een soete plant, een rechte vyge-boom, Die ook een dullen stier kan houden in den toom; Sy is een gulde krans, een reyn en edel wesen, Een eygen Gods-geschenk, van duysent uyt-gelesen; Sy is een klare lamp, een gulde kandelaer, Die al het huys verlicht, doch meest haer echte paer; Sy is een wijngaert-ranck, die met haer koele blaâren Hem, die haer ziele mint, van hitte kan bewaren; Sy is de wijnstock selfs, vol vrucht, en soete vreught; Sy is een stille ree, een haven voor de jeugt; Sy is gesuyvert gout, dat, even niet gedragen, Wort nimmer van den roest, van schimmel niet beslagen; Sy is een schoon juweel, dat glinstert in der nacht; 55 Sy is een rijcke steen, maer echter wonder sacht; Sy is gelijck de son, die met een helder schijnen Doet mist, onguere lucht, en alle quaet verdwijnen, Versagt de wrange twist, al isse byster scherp, Een wijf, een vlytig wijf, is jae een Davids herp. O! dat nu eenig mensch het wesen deser vrouwen Vermogte, naer den eysch, met oogen aen te schouwen, De ziele ging hem uyt, door ongemeete vreugt, O! noyt volmaeckte lust als in de ware deugt. [Who can praise a well-mannered woman, as she should be? She is to her husband, a lust for his eyes; She is to her husband, and the whole house, she is Like a calm laurel wreath around the ailing fish; She is like a ship that has sailed over the sea Fills the whole land with all useful goods; She is a chief jewel, a crown for the man, Who can honor him both in and outside the house; She is like a garden, which, round the court woven, Preserves the noble fruit of all the gluttons; She is a sweet plant, a true fig-tree, Which can subdue even a fierce bull; She is a gilded wreath, a pure and noble being, God’s own gift, chosen from thousands; She is a bright lamp, a golden candlestick, Which lighted the whole house, Though most of all the conjugal pair; She is a vineyard plant, which with her cool leaves He that loveth her soul can keep from heat; She is the wine-stock itself, full of fruit, and sweet joy; She is a serene mind, a harbor for youth; She is purified gold, which, temporarily not worn, Never rust nor groweth a fungus; She is a beautiful jewel, that glitters in the night; She is a rich stone, but at the same time wonderfully soft; She is like the sun, who with a bright shine Makes fog, inclement air, and all evil vanish, Softened the bitter strife, though it be very sharp, A wife, a diligent wife, is yes a David's harp. Oh, that any man could see these women’s essence Would be permitted to behold her with eyes, The soul bursts forth, with immeasurable joy, O! never perfect lust as in true virtue]. 56 Despite (or perhaps because of) the Christian absorption of the antique substratum, this layer in thinking about house and household is preserved. The dignified status of both married partners and their mutual relations constitute, through the continued existence of the ‘house’ in the broad antique sense, an essential part of the Houwelick as Jacob Cats imagines it. This foundation proves extremely solid to graft the further marital relations. It is even conceivable that Cats has appropriated important elements of the Jewish tradition on this point. His reference to Moses as the first legislator of ‘houwelijkse saken’ [marital matters] on which the ‘Hebreen, Joden en de heer Christus selfs’ [Hebrews, Jews and the Lord Christ Himself] have built upon, makes that plausible.443 Several parallels can be identified in domestic rituals, as was shown above. In particular, the crucial status of the ‘huismoeder’ [mother of the house] (as a ‘priesteres’ [priestess]), the house as her place in the religious domain (her ‘tempel’ [temple]), the domestic celebrations (such as the weekly Shabbat and the Seder evening as the beginning of Pessach) and the religious responsibility of the mistress of the house in ignite the light (the candlesticks), would justify a further investigation in this direction. This would also place the nurturing task assigned to the mistress of the house, namely, to ensure the progress of the next generation, the family and the house, in a different light. Especially when, in the Jewish tradition, the transmission of wisdom, the reading, study and discussion of religious texts are included in the religious task that the woman has to fulfill in the house.444 This kind of research is all the more important since, until now, attention has focused on the possible connection between Jewish and Protestant religious beliefs in the early modern period or the socio-economic fate of the wealthy Spanish and Portuguese Sephardic Jews and later the poor German and Polish Ashkenazi Jews who settled in the Republic in the course of the seventeenth century.445 An investigation in this direction is, moreover, interesting knowing that a certain parallelism has been found in other areas. Simon Schama, for example, has pointed to the political-symbolic analogy, whereby a detailed Hebrew self-image (‘Neerlands Israël’, the Dutch as a ‘chosen people’ and ‘heirs of Hebrew destiny’) was established in the Republic,446 both in visual and textual materials.447 Jonathan Israel has pointed to scholars such as Joseph Justus Scaliger, Hugo de Groot, Daniël Heinsius, Caspar Barlaeus, and Constantine Huygens. They had a high regard for classical philology, the study of the New and Old Testaments and the study of Hebrew, seeking to rise, through a comparative method, above the theological conflicts and denominational dogmatism that characterized the interaction between Catholics, Jews, Calvinists.448 In that context, ‘the house’ could be examined, albeit not as a place of symbolic-moral purification from material and worldly defilement, as Schama has proposed: ‘A well-run household with a solid foundation was the saving of Dutch 57 culture, which otherwise would have been irrevocably tainted by materialism. It was the melting pot in which raw material and bestial desire could be transformed into redemptive salvation. (...) But preserving the pristine holiness of the household required eternal vigilance. In Dutch thought, the “house” formed a kind of dialectical opposition to the “world,” and particularly the street, which brought the mire of the earth, literally to the threshold’.449 Rather, the house should be seen as a place of practical rituals under the authority of the mistress of the house with the goal of sustaining as a ‘household enterprise’.450 In the sections that will follow, I will focus on three aspects that further nuance the marital pattern of mutual division of labor and spatial segregation. These aspects have unmistakable Christian (and Jewish) traits. Nonetheless, in Cats’ work they are colored primarily by a classical natural philosophical conception of the divine Nature. First, the choice of a partner, premarital lovemaking, and the status of procreation will be examined in a different light than usual (3.1.2). Second, I will discuss the place of the passions and, in particular, the significance that their management has for the domestic setting (3.1.3.). And finally, spirituality is given a place in the house, which cannot be explained in advance from the Calvinist rigor attributed to Cats (3.1.4.). 58 3.1.2. The Art of Lovemaking and the Tableau of Characters Jacob Cats presents the woman in his Houwelick primarily as a wife. This character fits within the matrimonial paradigm I introduced in the previous section. She has a history of more than two millennia and has always been associated with founding and running of a house. Within Roman Law, she was given a legal status that continued to play a role into the early modern era.451 In his Inleidinge tot de Hollandsche Rechts-geleertheid [Introduction to Dutch Jurisprudence] Hugo de Groot describes marriage as an existence that rests on legal rules and establishes both the duties and the rights of man and woman.452 Within this matrimonial paradigm, only a limited number of characters are conceivable. Virgin, married woman, and widow are defined by their relationship to the marital state. Cats subscribes to this system and considers it the only dignified course of life for women.453 He also, like Erasmus and Vives, treats the various stages of the woman’s life in distinct chapters.454 Only once does he speak of persons who remained unmarried out of conviction. He cites as examples a ‘klopje’ [spiritual virgin] or a ‘dichteres’ [poetess]: both have a different vocation in life.455 Yet in his Houwelick, Cats presents a tableau that is broader than these three ‘antique’ characters (virgin, wife, and widow). First, he nuances the matrimonial scheme based on physiological differences between women at different stages of life.456 Second, he establishes a causal link between the physiological qualities of women and men on the one hand and marriage as a natural-godly institution on the other. At this point Cats presents himself to be a thinker who emphasizes the higher order of which marital union is a part.457 ‘Het trouwen is gevonden, Tot nadeel van de lust, en alle snoode sonden, En des al niet te min waer eenig mensche trout, daer schijn’et dat het vlees een nieuwen tempel bouwt’ [Marriage is found, To the detriment of lust, and all pernicious sins, And nevertheless, where a few marry, there it seems that the flesh builds a new temple].458 This also explains – thirdly – why he leaves so much place for the precarious path that leads to marital status. In this light – fourth – not only is the bride’s separate status understandable, but also the many characters who will never populate the house. They personify the missteps one can commit on the way to marital status. Through it all, Cats implements a refinement of the matrimonial scheme. Instead of the familiar triplet virgin-wife-widow, he distinguishes four different characters for each stage. To begin with the widow: she is obviously no longer married. At death, the paths of husband and wife separate; the husband therefore has no power over his wife beyond the grave, as Hugo de Groot also legally establishes.459 The question of whether or not she should enter into a new marriage depends on her age and physical condition (young or old, ardent or extinguished). Cats considers 59 the reestablishment of a household only suitable for a young widow burning with desire.460A possible second husband should not be an overly young man, nor a stranger because they will come after the money and property her first husband has amassed. If the widow is still able to have children, she should not marry an old man, nor a widower with children, nor a man younger than herself. A widow should marry a different kind of man. Cats offers some practical advice for the widow who must protect her honor. The widow who has lost her husband should mourn, but in moderation. Not too much (for that is excessive) and not too little (for then she never really loved him).461 Never should the widow seek comfort from others; she always should seek comfort in her own house, and in her own mind.462 She should dismiss all the male servants. If her house is too big and too demanding, she can appoint an honorable and somewhat older man to take care of the outside work and the heavy chores. Never should a widow be alone in anyone’s company. She must eliminate the gossip and smears that tarnish her name as quickly as possible. The wife is also divided into four characters. In addition to the young married woman, the pregnant woman, and the house mother (to which I will return in detail in the following sections), Cats distinguishes the aged woman.463 With the aged woman, the perfect marriage has come to an end. The purpose of the conjugal union is then achieved, and lovemaking serves no further purpose. The elderly housewife must shift her affection toward her husband either by taking care of the less fortunate or convert her affection into individual preparation for the end of earthly life.464 What remains is the art of dying, writes Cats, a preparing oneself for the transition to death and the subsequent resurrection. And finally, Cats distinguishes four types of virgins, namely a young and a mature virgin, the ‘vrijster’ [young spinster], and the bride. This classification too is determined by physiology. Each type of virgin is marked by her physical experiences and the degree to which she associates them with the opposite sex or not. The young and foolish virgin feels all sorts of things, but her feelings are still unfocused. The mature and wiser virgin, on the other hand, has her eye on peers of the opposite sex.465 Finally, the spinster sets all her sights on a very specific youngster.466 I will elaborate on the case of the various virgins because it offers us an interesting view of Cats’ conception of the natural cause of marriage. In his first book of the Houwelick, Cats introduces a dialogue between two virgins.467 He has the young virgin Phyllis speak of bodily agitations that she cannot place. She complains of heart and head, is tired, and cannot find sleep at night. Anna, ‘rijper van verstand’ [more mature in intellect], suggests that she be examined by a physician who has knowledge of anatomy and knows where the internal organs are located: 60 Ey! sooje wilt genesen sijn, Gaet soeckt een ander medecijn; Gaet soeckt een kloek, en dapper man, Die veel en groote dingen kan, Die veel in konsten is geleert, En veel tot Leyden heeft verkeert, Of elders daer men menschen snyt, En al de leden open splyt, En daer men klaer en open seyt, Waer milt’ en hert’ en maege leyt, Die sal misschien, na lang beraet, Dan seggen wat’er ommegaet, En wijsen voorts wat u geneest;468 [Oh well, if you want to be cured, Go find another physician; Go and find a man of wisdom and cleverness Who can do many and great things, Who is very learned in the arts, And has spent much time in Leiden, Or elsewhere where people are cut open, And all the members are separated, And where one says clear and open, Where spleen and heart and stomach lie, Who will perhaps, after long deliberation, Then say what is the matter, And further point out what will cure you;]. Phyllis, however, rejects this modern medical approach to the body. Her experiences cannot be explained by it. Anna then moves to a different register. The symptoms of illness that torment tongue and chest, lung and limb are now named in terms of cold and heat, dry and thirsty, short or long term, hunger or appetite. It is the humors that flare up, it is concluded.469 They affect the blood and make Phyllis sick. The ‘strange’ behavior of this fledgling virgin turns out to be ‘minnepijn’ [pang of love], Anna concludes: Ick ken die sieckte wonder wel; Het is een eerste minne-beelt Dat om u weelig herte speelt; Het is een dom, een grillig mal, Het is een dertel ongeval, Het is een voor-spel van de jeugt, Een blijde pijn, een droeve vreugt, 61 Het is een bobbel in het bloet, Dat nu zijn eerste sprongen doet;470 [I know this disease wonderfully well; It is a first image of love That plays around your frisky heart; It’s a crazy, a whimsical weirdness, It’s a playful disaster, It’s a prelude to youth, A happy pain, a sad joy, It is the bubbling up of the blood, That now makes its first jumps]. With this view, Cats differs little from others of his time, not only in medicine, but also in law.471 Yet, he has more to say about the condition in which Phyllis finds herself and especially about its significance. In an attempt to indicate what is happening to her physically, Phyllis refers to the emotion that takes possession of her when she sees two lovebirds.472 Her blood becomes impetuous and rushes through her members. Her thoughts go out to the fish and the birds, the trees, and the animals. All these creatures love and adore each other. The marriage between these animals is caused by the natural affection towards each other.473 In this first ‘minnebeeld’ [image of lovemaking] as Phyllis’ comparison is called, Cats places human marriage in a larger, symbolic whole: Siet (dagt ick) hoe des Heeren magt Paert yder dier in sijn geslagt, Een ieder voelt sijn eygen vier, Een ieder trout op sijn manier, (...) Is ‘t slijm van vissen niet te kout, Sijn wilde vogels niet te snel, Sijn wreede dieren niet te fel Om aen te doen een sachter aert, Hoe dient een mensch dan ongepaert? Voelt leeuw en beir de soete pijn, Wat sal ‘t van teere maegden sijn?474 [Behold (I thought) how the power of the Lord Pairs each animal in its own species, Each one feels his own fire, Each one marries in his own way, (...) Isn’t the slime of fish too cold, Are wild birds not too swift, 62 Are cruel animals not too fierce To beget a gentler nature, Why, then, does it behoove a human to remain unmarried? Feels lion and bear the sweet pain, How will that be with tender virgins?] Cats speaks – through Phyllis – of a divine power that manifests itself in every living being and that causes all beings to marry. Elsewhere in the Houwelick too, as well in his Trou-ringh (1637), he interprets marrying as a logical continuation of the natural, inborn attraction. In doing so, he restates an antique and teleological view.475 All of Nature bears witness to the mutual attraction between male and female. The trees, plants, and herbs, such as cypress, ivy and laurel illustrate this.476 Several times Cats points to the date tree, where female and male enter into a marriage (bp.3.7.1). If their meeting is prevented (because they are separated by a house or a stream), they gradually lose all joy of life. If the obstacle is removed, they find each other and the female tree bears fruit in abundance.477 Even inanimate objects like stones and metals have two sexes.478 Natural philosophers such as Pliny and Theophrastus have demonstrated this convincingly. Inanimate creatures love each other, are attracted to each other, and tend to a lasting union.479 Cats cites numerous examples of natural marital tendencies in his work. Procreation in this case does not only apply to the living creatures, such as human beings, animals and trees. Cats considers it the rule in inanimate Nature as well.480 Several times he describes how even inanimate stones such as diamonds and rocks multiply and give birth to offspring. ‘Siet alle klippen aen, siet alderhande steen, Sy paren soo het schynt, en teelen onder een’ [Look at all the cliffs, see all kinds of stone, They mate so it seems, and procreate among themselves].481A similar train of thought can be found in Jacob van Maerlant’s work, centuries earlier, as Van Oostrom explains: ‘Their operation may have escaped all normal understanding, but it was reducible to the omnipotence of God and therefore in a certain sense no less rationally acceptable than, say, the fact that man and woman can procreate together’.482 Two notable examples are powers that the ‘seylsteen’ [magnet, used in early modern sailing ships] and amber possess by nature (bp.3.7.2, bp.3.41.5).483 Cats sees in natural forces such as magnetism (‘the magnet attracts iron’) and static electricity (‘rubbed amber makes straw stick’) evidence for the idea that Nature is ruled by mutual love (or repulsion).484 The wondrous powers that Pliny attributed to gemstones are cited approvingly by Cats. Their miraculous properties point forward to perfect marriage. The hard diamond (only to be tempered by buck blood), the red coral (with the color of blood, shame and mouth, and the opposite of youthful green) possess miraculous characteristics as do the shining pearl, the red ruby, the blue sapphire, emerald, agate, and amethyst. Therefore, Cats considers them appropriate jewels for the bride.485 They are all signs of invisible 63 similarities that make Heaven and Earth, Sun and Moon also part of a comprehensive attraction-based system of kinships.486 All these inclinations and drives, attractions and desires are astonishing, as wonderful as they are inescapable, so Cats believes.487 Love has been impressed as a natural quality in all divine creatures from the very beginning. The flower and the bee as much as the young spinster and the suitor (bp.3.9.1-3). In doing so, Cats places his relentless attention to marriage on a higher plane. Mating and lasting friendship, ‘voortteling’ [procreation] and offspring continue and perfect the divine order. Cats considers this order as a kinship system, as one big family made up of different kinds of beings. He regards human marriage as the ‘sluitsteen’ [capstone] of the comprehensive Nature created by God.488 ‘Soo is dan dit algemeen wesen, dit wonder Al, ick segge hemel en Aarde, onderling verknocht, en al te samen gebonden onder de gedaante van een houwlick; invoegen dat schier alle het bysonderste dat boven en beneden te zien is, iet heeft dat een houwelick gelijk is’ [So then this general being, this wonderful, miracle All, I speak of heaven and earth, which are mutually bound together, and are all joined together under the shape of a marriage; so that almost all the particular that is seen above and below, has something resembling a marriage].489 Marriage is the building block that installs the divine vault by accommodating and reinforcing the active forces of Nature.490 At the same time, this conjugal union has the ability to transform the natural forces into forces for the sake of the continued existence of the house, the town, and the commonwealth.491 ‘De liefde bindt het volck, de liefde voeght de zielen, Die sonder dat verbant in duysent stucken vielen’ [Love binds the people, love joins the souls, Who without that connection would fall into a thousand pieces].492 The conjugal union between husband and wife is in this way both a bracing and a crowning of the ‘wonderful, miracle All’ constituted by God and given to humankind. Cats frequently uses this term ‘wonder Al’ in his Complete Works [Alle de Wercken, ADW] to refer to Heaven and Earth.493 When desires are well matched – as when ‘de juiste snaar’ [the right chord] has been struck – it results in the miracle of harmonious friendship (bp.3.7.3).494 Marital friendship is indissoluble and unbreakable for two reasons.495 On the one hand, the attraction that brought the ‘echtelieden’ [spouses] or ‘wederparen’ [the other half of a couple, beloved counterpart] to each other is transformed into forces that serve to ‘elkaar te houden’ [to keep each other]. On the other hand, the marital union leads to offspring, and thus guarantees a natural continuation. Cats carries his comparison so far, that the Christian conception of marriage is also in harmony with his picture of Nature. He refers to Solomon’s ‘Hooglied’ [Song of Songs] to present, as is customary, the relationship between Christ and the Church in marital terms.496 Just as a suitor in love asks the young maiden to become his wife, and just as a young man speaks ‘tere, zoete en liefkozende woorden’ [tender, sweet and caressing words] to his beloved, so the Holy Spirit addresses himself in spiritual terms to (‘sijn vriendinne’ [his 64 girlfriend]) the Church. Cats even goes a step further, emphasizing that his formulation is meant to be very reverent. Is it not true, he continues, that God has often made himself known to men as a suitor?497 God, the ‘vriendelijke mensenhoeder’ [friendly people-keeper], has brought forth everything from the depth of His love. He has opened His bosom full of grace and expressed His supreme affection in human beings. And in so doing, Cats writes, He has become the spouse of all His creatures.498 Thus he allows marriage as a theological fact – union of the divine Word with the human species – and marriage as a natural fact, result of the inborn forces of attraction in all creatures – to merge into an encompassing divine Nature.499 In other words, for Cats, marriage is just one of the many miraculous phenomena in which the invisibly active divine forces of Nature manifest themselves.500 All of Nature bears witness to laws that affect human life. Analogous to architectural thinking, Cats writes about the effect that the air, the seasons, the places, and the soil can have on the (un)health of humans.501 Van de Venne’s visualization of the forces of Nature as hands embedded in clouds (as can be seen in bp.3.7.2 and 4, bp.3.42.1-2) hardly differs from the way Stevin has the earthly forces depicted (in his Vande Beghinselen der Weeghconst [On the Principles of the Art of Weighing] (1586) (bp.2.19.1-4, bp.5.9.1,6,17, 19).502 Thus we see that in the background of Cats’ thoughts a cosmic order is at work. This forms the context in which, on the one hand, he places the burning desires of female and male characters (bp.3.14.1-6). On the other hand, this explains why Cats thinks it is so important that a marriage be conducted according to the rules of Nature and what missteps one can commit if one fails to take this into account. Cats emphasizes the importance of mutual desire by bringing a variety of literary and natural philosophical motifs into play. The youngsters he stages in Sinne- en Minnebeelden, Houwelick, or in his Spieghel van de Oude en Nieuwe Tijd are akin to the languorous petrarquist characters who are consumed by love for their idealized ‘Rosemond’.503 Beautiful young spinsters with blond braids and red lips, sweet cheeks and happy phrases, set the suitors on fire, steal their hearts and bring them to the brink of death.504 ‘Love is the vinculum mundi, binding the whole of creation together; earthly love is a step on the ladder of love leading eventually to ecstatic reunion with the Godhead. When a woman is loved, her lover is loving not only her, but God and himself as well. The perfection of love is in reciprocity; but its origin lies in beauty, which women possess in greater store than men. Physical beauty reflects mental goodness; thus women are better than men’.505 Cats points out that reciprocal desire was personified in pagan times as a god, namely Cupid (bp.3.40.5, bp.3.41.5). Blinded by Cupid’s golden arrows, the young men, overcome with love pain, wander around dazed.506 Meanwhile, they try to convince their sweethearts that only they can put them out of their misery.507 65 Seeing, speaking, and touching are the steps the lover must take to approach his beloved (bp.3.15.1-2). Als ick de liefde sagh, doen woud’ ick haer genaken, Stracks riep ick om de spraeck, flucks haer te mogen raken, Doen bad ick om een soen, en schoon ick die bequam, Noch vond ick dat mijn hert geen recht vernoegen nam; Ick voelde des te meer mijn ziel geduerigh hijgen, En wenschte boven dat een meerder pant te krijgen. O lusten sonder end! ô wispelturigh spel! Al krijgt den hont een stuck, hy gaept noch even-wel.508 [When I saw love, then I wanted to answer it, Immediately I cried out for words, to move her soon, Then I prayed for a kiss, and though I got it, Yet I found my heart tasted no true satisfaction; I felt all the more my soul panting, And wished for a greater treasure than that, O lusts without end, O capricious game! Though the dog gets a piece, he nevertheless longs for more]. Cats is not alone with this love theme in Holland. In love emblems it is also played by poets like Heinsius, Hooft, Secundus and Huygens.509 Love is sung, and attractive virgins are adored. The suitors in particular follow their inner fire unscrupulously. Still at the end of the century, Sweerts (c. 1678) acknowledges the relentless lust that dominates these youngsters, though he laments them. ‘Jonge knapen, die door hun ontvlambare, zwafelachtige aard aan de kriele driften der begeerlijke natuur onderworpen zijn en die geneigd zijn het ding dat Min genoemd wordt door een vergrootglas te zien, zijn enigszins te verschonen. Maar dat luiden die eenmaal tot de jaren van kennis en gezond oordeel gekomen zijn, zich daar in laten vervoeren, dunkt mij in alle delen zo dwaas, dat hun beter een zotskap met bellen, dan een krans van overwinning aangepast mocht worden’ [Young fellows, whose inflammable, sulphur-like nature subjects them to the creeping urges of their lustful nature, and who are inclined to see the thing called love through a magnifying glass, are somewhat to be excused. But that youngsters, once they have come to the years of knowledge and sound judgment, should be seduced into this, seems to me so foolish in every respect, that it would be better to fit them with a mad cap with bells, than with a wreath of victory].510 To explain the lust that torments female characters, Cats turns to an Aristotelian argument. According to this philosopher, the woman is fundamentally an imperfect man and therefore desires union with the more complete man.511 Cats gives many examples showing that women are not deterred from marriage by anything or anyone. If their mother or sister has gone through a difficult birth, if a 66 neighbor is horribly abused by her husband, nothing can make the eager to marry woman turn away. Women are even keen to marry harsh widowers. Women want to experience marriage and childbearing in the flesh.512 Young spinsters in particular are blinded by passion. Their ‘minnepijn’ [pang of love] is in reality eagerness to marry. Marriage is worshipped by them, and handsome young lads are therefore taken at their word.513 All in all, Cats makes several arguments to explain the mutual attraction between the sexes. Some arguments are taken directly from nature, such as the case of the eel and the worm being chopped in two after which both parts try to become one body again (bp.3.7.4). Furthermore, he uses Plato’s image of the originally androgynous human being on the basis of which every human being tries to find his ‘wederhelft’ [other half] during his life.514 And finally, he invokes the Christian view on the first marriage instituted by God. Adam and Eve share the same flesh, and for this reason they also wish to be united. Moreover, the biblical phrase that God took Eve from Adam’s rib is interpreted by Cats as proof of the equality of woman and man.515 For, Cats argues, the woman is not taken from the foot of the man, nor from the head, but from his side. She shall not be subject to him, nor shall she dominate him. In marriage she shall be beside and with her husband. The marriage of Adam and Eve and their carnal meeting predates the Fall, an argument made by several authors in this era.516 All are explanations to understand lovemaking as a natural tendency toward physical union. From the very nature of things, man and woman remain eternally in search of their ‘wederpaar’ [beloved counterpart].517 According to Cats, nothing can be done about this mutual eagerness. ‘‘t Is een ingeboren eygenschap, een boek sonder letters, dat sonder schoole, sonder meester, sonder eenigh behulp van selfs geleert wort: ‘t Is een in-druksel van den hemel, een ingeboren eygenschap, een wet als met Godes vinger in ‘t gebeente en mergh der menschen geschreven’ [It is an innate quality, a book without letters, which is learned by itself without school, without a master, without any help: It is an imprint of heaven, an inborn quality, a law as if written with God's finger in the bones and marrow of human beings].518 In this early modern context, the wedding and marital procreation take on special significance. Now, as Grootes has already noted, there is a distinguished difference between ‘voortteling’ [procreate, bring forth, growing, breeding] and our modern ‘sexuality’.519‘It is this “vertical” view of the human being, as a creature placed between high and low, between the divine and the earthly, between good and evil, that (...) determines the views much more, than the “horizontal” view of the human being as an individual who develops in time’.520 The bond of sexuality and marriage must be seen against the backdrop of an encompassing cosmic order. ‘Cats accepts the sexual drive as the natural Godcreated condition for the continuity of human life on earth. Purged of selfish 67 passion, it must be made subservient to marriage, which is the foundation of societal life’.521 But this also sealed the early modern status of youthful lovers. Yet the perfect marriage between human beings, no matter how natural and divine, is a not very obvious and even dangerous endeavor. This is the tenor of Cats’ entire work.522 In this, humans differ from all other creatures and things on earth, such as stones and trees, fish and birds, lions and monkeys. It is true that both women and men are driven to the other by an innate affection, but instead of intuitively recognizing her or his counterpart, it is important for the human being to make the right choice at the right time.523 In fact, mutual desire extends beyond death. Even after the death of the counterpart one can continue to feel its attraction, is Cats’ own experience.524 Human being, as a reasonable animal, must therefore use all his/her faculties to learn the rules of the art of love. Cats presents the ‘Wegh-wyser ten Houwelick’ [Guide to Marriage] as a correct way to get out of the ‘Dool-hof der Kalverliefde’ [Maze of youthful crush] (bp.3.19.2). Only in this way can natural inclinations be guided in the right direction.525 Only in this way can a lasting marriage be established (bp.3.19.3). Only in this way can the house continue to exist. For these reasons, the bride is the most precarious character in Cats’ tableau (bp.3.10.1). She is the hinge between honest lovemaking and perfect marriage; she embodies the transition between virtuous virgin and sensible housewife, a transition that is as perilous as it is necessary. The new covenant becomes legally valid only at the public, ecclesiastical consecration (and before the consummation of the marriage on the wedding night).526 The church blessing establishes ‘de vaste knoop’ [the firm knot] between husband and wife forever. The rings exchanged during the marriage ceremony symbolize in their roundness the endlessness of the bond (bp.3.11.1-3). The divinely blessed coupling and thus inclusion in the higher cosmic order thus weighs more heavily with Cats than the physical union.527 The mutual wedding vow is an important moment in the transition from virgin to wife. In principle, this promise does not change the relationship between bride and groom.528 Until the official marriage ceremony, they must continue to behave towards each other in the same way as before, despite the groom’s insistence.529 Attraction is the engine of rapprochement, but this cannot be physically fulfilled until marriage.530 Cats sees in an old Jewish custom an example of how bride and groom could also treat each other with dignity before the wedding in the Republic. The groom, like Jacob who waited (twice) seven years for Rachel, should protect his bride from disgrace. Only after receiving leave from her father does he unite with her: Daer was een out gebruyck in alle Joodsche landen, Wanneer een jonge maegt haer trouwe ging verpanden, 68 Dat jae de lieve bruyt, oock van den eersten aen, Wert aen den jong-gesel ten vollen toegestaen. Hy moest het weerde pant met alle vlijt bewaren, En, door besette tucht, ter rechter ure sparen, Ter eeren van de trou, hy moest het weerde pant Besitten sonder smaet, en houden buyten schant. (...) Siet! wat verschilt de tijt. ô die in onse dagen Bestont een jonge bruyt den vryer op te dragen; Van dat de sonne rijst, tot aen den soeten slaep, Eylaes, wat soud’et zijn? een wollef by een schaep. Ey waer is nu de sucht van reyne min gevloden? Of woont het sedigh hert alleenlijk by de Joden, En niet in ons gewest? ey, matigh uwen tocht, Wy zyn ook Godes Erf, en dier genoegh gekocht. (...) “Maer die in rechte tucht beginnen hare feest, “Die trouwen met de ziel en wassen in den geest.531 [There was an old custom in all Jewish countries, When a young maiden was about to pledge her allegiance, That yes the sweet bride, even from the very beginning, It was fully granted to the young man. He was to preserve the valuable preciousness with all diligence, And by wise manners, and keep it until the right time, In honor of the trust, he had to possess the precious treasure Possess it without slander, and keep it from disgrace (...) Behold, how different are the times, ô which in our days Dare to hand over a young bride to the suitor; From sunrise, to sweet sleep, Alas, what would happen? To put a wolf to a sheep. Hey, where has the pursuit of honest love gone now? Or does the virtuous heart live only with the Jews, And not in our region? Hey, moderate your passions, We’re also part of the heritage of God, and with great effort we’ve obtained (...) “But those who in good conscientiousness commence their joy, “They shall marry the soul and will flourish in the spirit]. The change of status does have two other effects that indicate irreversibility. First, the pledge of allegiance has a public effect. Other applicants now know that for them the opportunity is gone forever.532 Second, there is an inner effect. The bride (but also the groom) prepares herself for the coming transformation in which their bond becomes a reality and they begin to share their lives in every way.533 Cats advises the bride to have a clear idea of the house in which she and her husband 69 will live. ‘Sy moet het gansche beelt van huys, en echte saecken, Te voren overslaen, jae met de sinnen maecken. Een kamer in de lugt, een wonderlick gebou, En leggen in den geest de gronden van de trou’ [She must consider the whole picture of the house, and conjugal affairs, beforehand, and imagine it through the senses. A chamber in the air [a castle in the air], a wondrous building, that lays in the mind the grounds of fidelity].534 In other respects, too, the couple must start with a clean slate.535 For example, Cats considers it undesirable for a suitor of yesteryear to still possess a portrait of the now-married woman (bp. 3.8.2). He advises erasing one’s own past as much as possible. This may mean reclaiming or returning gifts from previous lovers. Even habits known from the parental house must be left behind. The groom bids farewell to the parental home by setting his own house rules. The bride exchanges the parental way of life for that of her husband.536 Never may she turn her back on the marital house. If she does and moves back in with her parents as a daughter, the survival of the newly founded house is in jeopardy (bp.3.10.2).537 Choosing the right partner is a weighty matter dealt with extensively by many matrimonial writings in the early modern era. So too with Cats. The dignity of the house, both in the basic sense of household enterprise, and in the higher, divine and natural sense, hinges on finding a suitable partner. For bride and groom to properly proceed to founding a house, they must go through an honest lovemaking process. During the lovemaking, it is important for the young spinster and suitor to maintain their own honor and dignity and nevertheless come closer to each other.538 On the one hand, lovemaking belongs to adolescence and is therefore inevitable. ‘Pleeght liefde, soete jeugt, en stelt u om te paren, dat is het rechte wit van uwe groene jaren’ [Make love, sweet youth, and get ready to mate, that's the right purpose of your green years].539 The cravings initiate the game of loving. They are the start of a process that, assuming all goes according to the rules, will culminate in the wedding. On the other hand, young spinster and suitor must work together to achieve the common goal. In the game of loving both parties learn that, just as in the ‘kaatsspel’ [ball game], they must do their best to keep the ‘veertje’ [feather] in the air (bp.3.12.3): Soo ghy wilt dit speeltjen leeren, Soete Vryster, schoone Blom: Doe den Vlieger weder-keeren, Drijf het veertjen wederom; Want als ick van mijner zijden Maer alleen en soude slaen, Dat en sou ons niet verblijden, Want het spel is stracx gedaen. Weet, dat kaetsen ende minnen 70 Eyst een overgaenden bal, Anders maeckt’et droeve sinnen, Anders heeft’et geenen val. Liefde doet ons liefde toonen, Liefde geeft de liefde kragt, Liefde moet de liefde loonen; Anders isse sonder magt: Wil dan weder-liefde dragen, Lief, soo wordje ras de bruyt, Want dan wil ick ‘t met u wagen; Anders, kint, ick schey’er uyt.540 [If you want to learn this toy, Sweet darling, beautiful flower: Make the flying feather turn back, Hit back the feather; For if I on my part I alone would strike, That would not rejoice us, For then the game is immediately done. Know, that bouncing and lovemaking Require a ball going back and forth, Otherwise it makes one sad, Otherwise the ball won’t come back. Love makes us show love, Love gives love strength, Love must reward Love; Otherwise love has no power: So bring forth reciprocal love, Dear, so you will soon become the bride, For then I will dare with thee; Otherwise, child, I’ll stop]. The ‘domme’ [inexperienced] youth must appropriate the rules of the game. By submitting to the rules for the duration of the game, and practicing them, one gradually becomes wiser.541 Cats provides numerous rules, and together they form a pattern within which a couple in love can maneuver while maintaining honor and dignity. So how does a ‘eerlijke vrijage’ [fair lovemaking] work? First, virgin, young spinster, and suitor are each endowed with an ‘eervol wapen’ [honorable coat of arms] (bp.3.13.1-3), analogous to the distinction a courageous monarch acquires: 71 Koomt hier, vriendinnen altemael, Die sonder yser, sonder stael, En sonder sweert, en sondeer lans Verwint de kloekste van de mans, Die sonder oorlogh, sonder strijt Princessen van de weerelt zijt; Komt hier, en siet dit Maegde-boek, O Ridders van den witten doeck, Hier is het datje vinden meught Een wapen voor uw teere jeught, Een wapen, daer geschreven staet, Hoe dat’et met de maegden gaet; Een wapen, daer het edel velt Uw gansche plichten open stelt;542 [Come here, girlfriends, all of you, Those without iron, without steel, And without sword, and without lance Conquers the bravest of men, Who without war, without struggle Are princesses of the world; Come here, and see this Book of Virgins, O Warriors of the pure garment, Here it is that you may find A weapon for your tender youth, A weapon, where it is written, How it goes with the virgins; A weapon, where the noble field Shows thy whole duties]. In his presentation of the virgin’s coat of arms, the spinster’s coat of arms, and the field sign for the suitor, Cats notes their respective duties.543 A virgin (‘een bloempje in de knop’ [a flower in the bud]) should be simple in her manners and at the same time studious, which is allegorically indicated by lamb and dog (bp. 3.13.2).544 A spinster (‘een druiventros’[a bunch of grapes]) should behave demurely and protect her shame. The turtle indicates the first virtue, while the salamander, when the sun is too bright, retreats timidly into the shade (bp. 3.13.3).545 A suitor (‘een witte hermelijn’ [a white ermine]) should only devote himself to honest love with a pure mind, and otherwise let the cup pass by (bp. 3.13.1).546At the same time, the weapons serve to make their individual dignity public. Thus Cats explains his invention of the spinster weapon as follows: 72 Maer wie een wapen voert, ‘k en hebbe niet vernomen Dat oyt uw vrye staet een wapen heeft bekomen; Schoon ieder u verheft, en beelt u machtig af, Noch quam’er noyt een mensch, die u een wapen gaf; Het is dan noch te doen. dorst ick ‘t my onderwinden, Ick wist u (soo my dunckt) een wapen uyt te vinden; Een wapen, recht bequaem voor uwe teere jeugt, Geen spore tot de pragt, maer tot de ware deugt.547 [But whoever carries a weapon, I never heard That ever your free position received a weapon; Though every one esteem'd thee highly, And pictured thee mighty, Yet never was there any one, who gave thee a weapon; So that has yet to be done. Until I dared to get involved, I invented a weapon for you; A weapon fully suited to your tender youth, Not a trace of opulence, but directed to true virtue]. Other means by which the discrete nature of both sexes is emphasized are sharpening of visual differences (by distinguishing woman and man in clothing) and physical distancing (by offering man and woman their own domains).548 Sexual demarcation through clothing makes the so crucial game of love clear and less susceptible to confusion that can lead to dangerous situations, a remark we also know from Stevin. ‘Gods heyligh woort gebiedt, aen mannen en aen vrouwen, Een onderscheyden kleet te moeten onderhouwen: Geen wijf en moet de dracht van mannen onderstaen, Geen man in tegendeel in lange slippen gaen’ [God’s holy word commands that men and women should wear different clothes: No wench should try men's attire, No man on the contrary should go in long dresses].549 Sexual intermediate forms, which derail or call into question this love game, are thus made unthinkable. The extent of this issue in the early modern period is also shown in a remark by Hugo de Groot about androgynous or hermaphroditic persons. Depending on the dominant nature he argues, the human being will legally be considered ‘as man’ or ‘as woman’.550 From the Renaissance debates about the physiology of man and woman, and reproduction in particular, that Maclean discusses, it is clear that classifying living creatures was of concern to many during this period.551 Creatures with characteristics that do not fit into Nature’s classification system are categorized as ‘monsters’ [monsters].552 Whether woman is understood as a ‘misser’ [failure] or ‘monster’ of Nature (whose sole purpose should be to produce men), or as a natural part of procreation (which implies that woman is recognized as a separate ‘geslacht’ [sex] within the human ‘soort’ [species]) are questions that are frequently asked in sixteenth and seventeenth century thought. The answers to 73 these questions had far-reaching consequences for the complex Renaissance idea of woman (and man). Maclean points out that in the early modern medical discipline, the question of ‘whether a woman is a monster’ is related to the question of whether woman is an imperfection of Nature or an imperfect man. The first implies that woman is not included in the classification of Nature and is therefore a monster. The second reasoning implies that woman is the result of a process not carried through to its end (because that would be the man): thus, by comparison, woman is in this case an ‘imperfect man,’ but as a sex she is included by Nature. For, Nature needs both sexes for procreation.553 Cats takes a very strong stand in this then undecided debate. To the questions whether woman has a proper sex, whether she (like man) is a human being, whether she possesses a reasonable and mortal soul, and whether she is included in the grace of the Son of God, he answers all in the affirmative.554 The virgin is subject to vague desires that she cannot bring home. The impulses do move, but they are purposeless. Until then, the virgin has kept herself distant from the outside world. She knows only her parental house and the French school, places where she has carefully preserved her virginity, beauty, and shame. The virgin is pure and flawless. Her name, her body and her thoughts are unstained and fresh, sensible and unblemished.555 Ey kijckt, ô jonge dieren, kijckt, Het is een beelt dat u gelijckt, Het is een bloemtje, sooje siet, Dat noch geen open knopjen biet, Een bloemtje van sijn eerste jeugt, Een bloemtje van sijn eerste vreugt, Een bloemtje dat niet uyt en puylt, Maer in sijn eygen knopje schuylt.556 [Hey look, ô young girls, look, It’s a picture that looks like you, It is a flower, as you see, That doesn’t have an open bud yet, A flower of its first youth, A flower in its first joy, A flower that doesn't burst out, But is hidden in its own bud]. It is only when the virgin matures, becomes aware of the opposite sex, and she ‘uit vrijen gaat’ [courting, to make love], that the game of love becomes serious. The young spinster, but also the suitor, must play the game with wisdom. Cats 74 describes two inwardly directed techniques to channel the cravings. These techniques complement each other wonderfully. The girl must protect her shame and honor.557 The suitor must behave virtuously and well mannered, be amiable and courteous.558 Thus the virgin preserves her greatest treasure (‘een vluchtig nat, gevat in een teer en breekbaar glazen fles’ [a volatile wet, encased in a delicate and fragile glass bottle]) until her marriage. At the same time, the suitor protects and affirms his strength by restraining his fiery and hot fire of love (bp.3.14.1-6). For the suitor has a fierier nature. It is clear that Cats is here restating some of the common terms attributed to the female (moist) and male (fiery) nature respectively in this early modern period.559 Both the spinster and the suitor must practice the ‘art of loving’. By doing so, they both learn to submit to discipline and reason.560 The young woman learns to be selfish. She learns that she should take care of herself: the wise virgin should take care of her delicate glass of precious moisture (bp.3.12.1). 561 The young man, on the other hand, learns to be selfless. He learns to have an eye for what moves a young woman and learns to behave towards her in an appropriate way.562 Thus both sexes learn something foreign to their own nature.563 The spinster, who by nature strives for a cozy life with the other, learns to set herself apart. The suitor, who in principle only listens to his own nature, is taught to care about the other. The suitor must understand that ‘ieder zijn eigen ranken heeft’ [each one has his own traits] (bp.3.15.1-2). If he is to succeed in his attempt at rapprochement, he must understand how to act in each special case. And that understanding consists of learning to assess the behavior of others.564 The attraction between spinster and suitor is not diminished by all this. Rather, Cats emphasizes, it increases.565 The young woman wins over the bravest man without putting up a fight, by not meeting him and by constantly rejecting him. This is where ‘de weiger-kunst’ [the art of refusing] comes in: ‘Dus wilje minne, wilje gunst, So leer voor eerst de weyger-kunst (...). Door moeyte smaeckt het minnespel, En ‘t neen dat staet de meysjens wel’ [So if you want your love, your affection, Learn first the art of refusal (...). By effort the love game tastes, And saying no embellishes the girl]. An art that must be practiced deftly and according to the rules, not clumsily and with stubbornness.566 For Cats, Eve is someone who has an excellent command of the art of refusal (bp.3.16.1).567 She and not Adam determines when to proceed to sexual intercourse.568A rule, by the way, that is characteristic of Jewish tradition.569 The suitor must win over his future bride by enticing her. He must convert all his passions and combine all his strengths to get her so far (bp.3.15.1). Want schoon al reyck ick naer een tack, Niet sonder eenigh ongemack: En schoon ghy biedt my vruchten aen By yemant anders afgedaen; 75 Gelooft’t vry, beleefde maeght, Dat is geen ooft dat my behaegt. Een tack met krachten neêr gedruckt, Een vrucht met eygen handt gepluckt, Een peer die hoogh en vluchtigh hangt, Dat is’et daer men na verlangt; Want noyt en zijn’er fruyten soet, Dan als de plucker klimmen moet.570 [For though I reach for the branch, Not without some discomfort: And though thou offer me fruit That have been rejected by someone else Believe it assuredly, well-mannered virgin, That is no fruit that pleases me. A branch pushed down with effort, A fruit plucked with his own hand, A pear hanging high and unattainable, That’s what one longs for; For never are the fruits so sweet, Than when the gatherer must climb]. This results in what Cats calls an ‘eerlijke vrijage’ [honest courtship]. Step by step, both approach the other in a cautious and above all appropriate manner.571 Not too rough, not too fast and especially not surreptitiously.572 In this way, by remaining faithful to each other, they will slowly but steadily move toward the wedding.573 Courting, then, is a process that rests on the one hand on mutual passions, and on the other hand elaborates, restrains, and transforms these passions. In this process, the suitor learns that surrendering to his lust is too easy a path. He learns that resisting his own craving is a sign of bravery and brings glory.574 Desire therefore bestows both joy and suffering.575 The regulated loving is a gentle compulsion. It may take effort, but the pain is sweet.576 One is indeed imprisoned, but the bondage is pleasant, and the cage offers only joy (bp. 3.17.1-2). From this school of the art of loving both spouses, according to Cats, will later benefit in the perfect marriage. In addition to the inner attunement of the lovemaking couple, attention must also be paid to the public interaction of the couple. Accepting or giving gifts, sending letters, talking a lot together and making eye contact are all dangerous events.577 Idleness, hanging out in the streets too much or courting at night is too tempting. The wrong place and an inappropriate time automatically bring closer the physical fulfillment of mutual attraction. One delivers oneself to horny lust without it leading anywhere.578 For this reason, all such circumstances should be 76 avoided.579 Spinster and suitor should meet during the day so that parents can supervise what is going on between them.580 The theme of parental protection of foolish virgins therefore recurs again and again in Cats’ work (as in other authors at this time).581 Courting should be given its time for several reasons and not be rushed into a wedding. Time will tell how the young suitor holds up over time.582 Moreover, a spouse should not be chosen at random. Cats repeats what Erasmus and Vives already said about the usefulness of mutually observing the prospective spouses.583 After all, one is making a choice for life. Given the weighty implications for the house, one must choose a good spouse.584 Why should one look at a piece of land or cattle before the purchase, and with such an important matter as the spouse, omit the preliminary examination? Cats advises the spinster and her relatives to carefully examine the lifestyle of the prospective husband. Attention should be paid to the friends with whom he associates, and his conduct of life should be acceptable.585 It must be clear what he has learned, whether he is able to support his future wife and children, and whether he can provide them with a roof over their heads.586 He must be able to guide her youth in the right direction and assist her in marriage. Cats also serves the youngster with some advice. He taunts the man who knowingly chooses a stupid woman as his wife. He explicitly urges him to be careful in choosing a life companion.587 He advises the suitor to look carefully at the family of his beloved. This is especially true of the mother of his bride-to-be, because she is the harbinger of what awaits him when he marries the daughter.588 One must establish a good fundament for marriage, and this is done by finding a suitable ‘partuur’ [someone’s equal, mate].589 Appropriateness is related to a certain similarity in origin and prestige, family and nationality, status and wealth, faith, health and age.590 Also, in terms of physical shape, degree of beauty, and mental level, woman and man do well to find a party that is not too different from themselves. Cats gives some examples of unequal couples and asks the usual question of whether they would be wise to marry. Because they have in common that they are less well prepared to establish a stable house, although the degree to which they pose a threat to a good house varies.591 Is it advisable when a young woman marries an old man, or an old woman marries a young man? What are the consequences when an ugly woman is married because of her money and possessions or when a deformed man is chosen because of his scholarship (bp. 3.16.2)?592 For unequal couples, marriage is often a ‘fuik’ [trap] for one of the two, as it proves impossible to keep up the same pace in life (bp.3.10.3).593 And since one can never end the marriage once established, this inequality has lifelong consequences for the house. The well-known formula ‘soort zoekt soort’ [birds of a feather flock together] implies for Cats, therefore, that in a marriage one should strive for the greatest possible matching of qualities and talents of both spouses. On this basis, a conjugal union can be forged, the husband and wife will be able to 77 stand up to each other and there will be a certain guarantee that their relationship will last. The endurance of marriage also guarantees that spouses can be more prolific with their talents than they would be as individuals.594 The fact that timing must also be considered means that there must not be too much delay. The spinster must be brought to the husband in time, something that the virgin's father especially must take to heart. A virgin who is too ripe will soon rot.595 If she waits too long, there is a great danger that she will end up as an old spinster (bp.3.18.4).596 With his preference for the marriageable age of the spinster (21 years), and the suitor (28 years), Cats remains above the age that still requires parental consent according to Hugo de Groot.597 Although sometimes time is short, Cats emphasizes that such an important coupling should not take place under parental coercion.598 Mutual love cannot blossom with threats.599 Conversely, when spinster and suitor wish to marry after careful consideration, parents may not withhold their consent.600 Because of the great distance between the individual’s capricious inner cravings on the one hand, and the strictly defined path to the public wedding on the other, a wrong step is easily committed. Cats reviews a long series of ‘ongehuwde’ [unmarried] and ‘misleide’ [misguided] figures that result from this (bp.3.18.1-3). By indulging in lovemaking and crossing the boundaries of premarital intercourse, many of them never end up getting married. Every sidestep can be a stain on chastity, every pass can be one too many. The girl is especially vulnerable because she can lose her shame with the slightest thing. Brushing, scrubbing, and rubbing are in vain with a blot once acquired.601 Ach! wie haer teere jeugt besmet, Die sal geen trouw, geen echte bedt, Die sal geen wijs, geen deftig man, Hoe veel hy weet en wat hy kan, Oyt brengen tot haer eersten glans, Oyt brengen tot de maegde-krans. Ach! wie als vrijster is onteert Die wort te laet als bruyt geleert.602 [Ah, she who contaminates her tender youth, Will never bring a faithful and lawful bed, And bring no wise, no decent husband, Though he may know and do much, To his original brilliance, And will never receive the wreath of virgins. Ah, for who is dishonored as a spinster, For the bride that experience comes too late]. 78 For the suitor the matter is somewhat different. For the stability of the marriage, it is useful that he should be able to indulge his ardent nature briefly in the playing. ‘Dat niet te koten waren best; Maer als het immers moet geschieden, Soo is het beter eerst dan lest.’ [That not to play was best; But if it must be done anyway, Then it is better immediately than later]. Briefly, no longer than the wearing out of one pair of ‘narre-shoenen’ [shoes of a fool], Cats allows him to ‘mallen’ [act like a fool] and thus becomes a wise man (bp.3.12.2).603 The suitor may not run the risk that the virgin does, but he too, if he goes too far, may fail to secure the honorable marriage (and thus the house).604 The loss of honor, however, is costly to both. For if one has finally lost it, one is marked for life. What the suitor and the suitor who cross the line don't realize is that just like the child's play, the courtship itself is only make-believe. In both cases the game is a means to learn more serious things.605 Children’s play is there to explore the ins and outs of the world. Wisdom can also be gained from playing, according to Cats. From all the examples he gives of children’s play, lessons can be drawn (bp.3.19.1).606 The art of love is a game to try out, in anticipation of later marriage, the interaction with a partner.607 Some of the suitors and spinsters that Cats brings to the stage indulge in the love-game so much that they completely lose sight of the purpose of the game. A parade of senseless characters passes by over many pages.608 The ‘lolster’ [funlover] and ‘de stoute bil’ [naughty buttock], ‘de luie minnaar’ [the lazy lover] and ‘de onverzadigbare vrijer’ [the insatiable suitor] or the suitor who complains that he is about to die of desire.609 Furthermore, there is the suitor who makes love to two spinsters at once, the married woman who tries to seduce a young suitor, or suitors who get into fights because of the same spinster.610 All mock the seriousness of the love-game and waste their precious time. As long as they continue to wander, they will never marry and never establish a house.611 The young men in particular want the pleasures of lovemaking, but not the burdens. They see marriage as a restriction of their freedom. In Cats’ view, therefore, the youngsters run a great risk of ultimately forfeiting a worthy place in the Godcreated ‘wonder Al’.612 This happens to a second category that Cats mentions. This includes virgins and youngsters who have irreversibly ventured beyond the generally accepted path of love.613 For them, the conjugal bond is forever ruled out. Without a house, without household goods, there is no place for them in the order created by God. They are fundamentally elsewhere. Whether Cats locates them on an island in the far South Sea or in seclusion outside the inhabited world, all these characters are in bad shape (bp.3.20.1-3). Examples that Cats mentions are the young spinster who is deceived and dishonored by her friskiness and has to go through life with a bastard child. But they also include the adulteress and the woman of light morals.614 These figures are punished many times over in Cats’ depiction. Not 79 only are they forever excluded from a good marriage and a peaceful house. Their dignity as mistress of the house is forever denied them.615 The only thing they attract during their lifetime is money and the only thing they bestow is disease.616 In fact, these women, although still alive, have already died.617 Ick was een jonge spruyt, ik quam daar henen treden, Fris, geestigh, aengenaem, en met gesonde leden, Ik had een wacker oogh, ick had een rooden mont, Ik hadde niet een lidt dat my niet wel en stont: Ik was een lieve maegt, van yder een gespresen, Hoe wel had ik en vrouw en moeder konnen wesen! Hoe wel had ick gedient ontrent het echte bedt! Nu ben ik maer een sloor, een slons, een rechte slet, Een grouwel in de stadt. Ik hebbe slimme gasten De borsten mijner jeught oneerlijck laten tasten: Och had ik die besteet ontrent een aerdigh kint, Soo waer ik heden noch van alle man bemint; Nu ben ick maer een spot van alle vuyle boeven, Die my tot aen de ziel nu menigmael bedroeven. Maer ach! dat heeft’et wech. Eylaes! verloren eer Die is, die blijftmen quijt, en dat voor nimmermeer.618 [I was a young sprout, I came stepping there, Fresh, witty, pleasant, and with healthy members, I had a shrewd eye, I had a red mouth, I didn’t have a limb that didn't look good on me: I was a sweet virgin, praised by all, How surely I could have been a wife and mother! How good I should have been in the conjugal bed! Now I am but a sloppy woman, a slut, a true tart, An abomination in the town. I had sly guests groping The breasts of my youth in an unchaste manner. Oh if I had spent those breasts on a sweet child, I would be loved by all men; Now I’m just a mockery of all the dirty crooks, Who sadden me to the soul now many a time. But oh! so it goes. Alas, lost honor That is, that remains lost, and that forever]. But there are also plenty of male characters who go astray. Cats speaks of ‘bordeel-brocken’ [whore-hopper] and ‘hoere-vooghden’ [brothel keeper]. Rude and crude suitors with no restrained lust, of whom everyone knows they have a 80 bastard child. Only because of lustful gain do they deceive young spinsters by making promises of marriage, even on paper. Kint gaet elders, wilje minnen, Ick u trouwen? wat een struyf! Heb ick met u leggen mallen, Waert gy voor een nacht mijn wijf, Dat en acht ick niet met allen, Dat en is maer tijt-verdrijf. Woorden die de vryers spreken Zijn beleeft en honig-soet; Doch ten zijn maer minne-treken Daer men noyt op achten moet. Wat de jongmans oyt beloven Op den autaer van de min, Dat is met’er daet verstoven, Als sy hebben haren sin: Eeden die de minnaers sweeren Midden in het sachte bedt, Zijn veel ligter als de veeren, Daer en dient niet op gelet; Kint, die vliegen met de winden Lichter als een ligte pluym; Daerom zijnse niet te vinden, Want sy smelten, als het schuym.619 [Child go elsewhere, will you love, I marry you? What madness! Have I been fooling around with you, You were my wife for a night, I don’t think that's in general, That’s just a pastime. Words the suitors speak Are polite and honey-sweet; But they’re only love-talks Which should never be heeded. What the young ever promise On the altar of love, That’s gone after the deed, When they have had their way: The oath the lovers swear In the middle of the soft bed, Are much lighter than the feathers, 81 No need to pay attention to them; Child, those words fly with the winds Lighter than a light writing pen; Therefore the words are not to be found, For they dissolve, like the foam]. Unscrupulous and shameless as they are, these youngsters have lost their chance at a suitable daughter forever. The whore has the same antics as the unscrupulous suitor: the only difference is that the former does it for monetary gain, the latter because of horny lust.620 Through their bawdy practices, they eventually lose their health, to the point of death.621 In this respect, the young women and young men who cross the line are complementary to each other: the female character is too open to everyone. The male character is too selfish, following only his own cravings.622 In this way, Cats sets out in his work the beacons along which the young woman and the young man can appropriately accomplish their rapprochement until marriage. Thus, the characters, their inborn natures and mutual relations are defined. In addition to the characters who walk straight up to the house, eventually entering it, Cats frequently casts a glance at those who have fallen victim to the many traps along the narrow path of lovemaking. Most of these shadows will never behold the marriage and the house from within. Together, the wise and the ill-willed characters form a tableau. Cats is not so much interested in models or ideal characters. On the contrary, he uses them as tools of thought to establish the boundaries between Good and Evil, between proper and improper, between honorable and dishonorable, between woman and man. Through the many lines of connection that Cats draws between the fortunes of insubstantial creatures in nature and the fortunes of women and men who behave with dignity and honor, this tableau functions primarily as a cradle of divine, natural, and domestic values. The house is an inevitable point of reference in this pattern of values.623 82 3.1.3. Passions and Moods All these efforts to reach the marital state unscathed are only the beginning of the marital work. That work includes more than the running of the household business, as described in 3.1.1. Husband and wife turn out to be subject to fierce tempests and violent urges.624 The slightest thing will cause irritation.625 This regularly leads to dramatic moments when the whole carefully constructed structure threatens to collapse. The house shakes on its foundations. Here we have spouses arguing and cursing. There is a husband beating his wife, or a wife pinching and kicking her husband. Love, sorrow, regret, pride, haughtiness, fear, wrath, bitterness, joy, impatience, resentment, pity, and zealotry alternate in rapid succession, creating many marital confrontations and reconciliations (bp.3.22.1 and 4). Cats marvels at the peculiar, foolish and wrong lusts to which many a man and woman indulge. Women tend to chatter. They long to pass on to others everything that concerns the house. They chatter about their husband’s affairs, about his failures in marriage, or about their sex life in general. Sometimes they are animated by a strange lust for scrubbing, mopping, scouring, and cleaning. This urge to scrub is, according to Cats, mainly an expression of the desire to flaunt and does not benefit the domestic business. Women’s lust for sumptuous fabrics, precious jewels and splendid clothing is sometimes so strong that they deceive their husbands in order to obtain these things. Gluttony is a lust that Cats finds in both sexes. The woman is prone to all kinds of sweets, so she often purchases expensive delicacies for herself. The result is a lack of appetite when the meal is to be served.626 In the case of pregnant women, he tolerates the craving for sweets to a certain extent, because the fruit demands it. He is, however, surprised by the strange and sometimes distasteful forms that the appetite of pregnant women takes. But the man also falls short: he is often insatiable and inclined to eat his fill. Like a wolf, he keeps on eating. Both sexes indulge in excessive drinking, although men are more prone to carousing and boozing than women. Finally, infatuation is a lust that continues to torment both men and women, even in marriage. Often one goes beyond all limits in the marital bed, although there is a clear difference in hotness between men and women. All these tendencies, when given full rein, are detrimental to marriage. One neglects his or her duties in the household enterprise, time is wasted, money flies out of the purse and one is not open to reason. Not surprisingly, Cats is highly critical towards the married life of his own time. For example, in the ‘Voorrede’ [Prologue] prior to the ‘Bruid’ [Bride] he notes that the laudable execution of marriage is often lacking. He sees unrest and domestic 83 discomfort, marital difficulties, an excess of lust and disturbances as illnesses that sometimes crop up more than usual.627 He compares himself to the doctor who diligently tries to track down the medicines in case of an epidemic. In different directions, Cats searches for aids to tackle marital unrest. In his own words he draws on all kinds of old and new writings, some of which are pagan and others Christian. He also makes use of his own experiences. Finally, his observations of contemporary well-ordered households play a role.628 To be able to heal, it is useful to know what causes the unrest and discomfort in a marriage. Cats rejects three common explanations of marital imbalance. First, the opinion that unease is inherent in marriage itself. Referring to Socrates, he believes that both the married and unmarried states each have their own discomfort. Neither are entirely exempt from suffering during life.629 Thus, Cats rejects the contention that the unmarried state would offer a better and more peaceful life. Second, the opinion that restlessness is inherent to women. Cats parries this contention with a quote from ‘een Romeins tuchtmeester’ [a Roman disciplinarian]. Indeed, a life without women relieves the man of certain difficulties. But it does not, unfortunately, relieve him of his own nature. For Nature has made it so that he cannot live without a wife, and at the same time, that the wife does not fulfill all his desires. For a man, therefore, it is wiser in the long run to strive for the balanced wellbeing of his wife with a view to the future of the human species (and thus to establish a house). Better, in any case, than to continue fruitlessly searching for a momentary fulfillment of all his desires.630 The third view argues that the evil conditions in the house result from the inborn nature of women. Many writers, according to Cats, have expressed themselves inappropriately humiliating about women. It is clear from his arguments that he is among those who, since the Renaissance, have attributed to woman her own contribution to procreation. Women are built of the same, if not a better fabric than men.631 The distress that sometimes hits the couple and the house so hard, according to Jacob Cats, is not inherent in marriage as an institution, nor is it the woman’s fault. A bad and troubled marriage rests on the restless human nature, the ‘tochten’ [moods] of the heart and the ‘aandoeningen’ [afflictions] of the mind.632 Once they have knowledge of human passions and urges, wise spouses will understand that difficulties in a marriage cannot be solved by fleeing them and seeking salvation elsewhere. Spouses who think this way, Cats compares to feverish people who are always changing beds because they assume they are better off there.633 We act, says Cats, as if changing the situation can cure our suffering. But all in vain because wherever man goes, he always carries his restless and turbulent nature with him. Like the ibex who is struck by an arrow, running around restlessly, will never escape the misfortune that stabs him in the body.634 The bitterness in life is not caused by marriage, but by the restlessness of one’s own 84 will. Of his own free will, man submits to his own restless passions, with all the bad consequences this entails.635 In the Houwelick, the urges and passions lead a life of their own. They set the spouses against each other and turn the house upside down. Later Jacob Cats wrote verses about the most important classical emotions for Johan van Beverwijck’s Schat der gesontheyt [Treasure of health] (1636). In his Tachtigjarige bedenckingen [Contemplations by an Eighty-Year-Old] (1655) he returns to the main emotions in a more extensive and orderly way than in the Houwelick. Sorrow, envy, love, honor, avarice, as well as excessive happiness, wrath, fear, jealousy, and greed for money all pass through the review. In this work Cats paraphrases, according to his own words, classical sayings, and aphorisms by authors such as Ovid (Naso), Cicero, Seneca, Horace, Pliny, Plautus, Plutarch, supplemented with all kinds of instructive exemplars and Bible verses.636 Cats is not alone in his expositions of the fierce turmoil of the passions in his day. The humanist Coornhert (1586), and philosophers such as Geulincx (1667) and Spinoza (1677) also made place for it in their writings. Compared to these works in which the afflictions of the mind are always classified and included in a more comprehensive ethics, Cats’ work is less systematic. On the other hand, his treatment also differs from the then-current tragedies of Hooft or Vondel in which the emotions play a prominent role. That difference relates first of all to the genre. Seventeenth-century drama presents high-minded characters as sovereigns and princesses, queens, and gods subject to greatest passions. Biblical scenes and ancient entourages provide an appropriate backdrop against which to battle the passions.637 Cats explicitly sets the passions in his Houwelick against a domestic background. The setting most closely resembles that of the farce of the time but differs from it through other genre conventions.638 This unsystematic and house-situated approach to classical emotions in the Houwelick implies that Cats’ statements regarding the mood have often been interpreted quite differently. On the one hand, according to some authors, his interest in the passions has to do with his own lustful nature. As a Calvinist he would have had difficulties with this all his life.639 On the other hand, it has been argued that Cats primarily wanted to spread the morals of moderation and sobriety by pleading for control of the emotions.640 However, other motives appear to have played a role. Knowing the moods, the passions and their workings is considered necessary by Cats because of the dangers they pose to the marital bond and thus to the house. Overly fierce passions may cause either spouse to leave the house prematurely. This may be permanent, for example, when a husband leaves his evil wife, to seek his fortune elsewhere. It can also be temporary, when a stubborn wife goes back to her parents’ house because she can’t get her way in the marital house. But it plays just as well when the house becomes a place where husband 85 and wife live in discord and constantly fight each other.641 In all such cases, the marriage is at stake. Therefore, a good marriage requires two kinds of efforts. The spouses must not only keep the domestic business running. Equally important are their inner workings, the way the senses are worked on during the marriage. Cats gives several examples of this. To begin with, there are passions that directly threaten the household enterprise. It concerns the unbridled lust that Cats conceives of as autonomous phenomena of the human body. They keep themselves going and reproduce themselves in the human body. If a human being has no knowledge of their existence, he or she is completely at the mercy of all kinds of urges, senses, fits, sighs, tendrils, and gusts. Cats describes these urges as strange, dirty, wrong, capricious, silly, naughty, angry, harsh, fierce, evil, unsavory, and nefarious, thus emphasizing their parasitic nature. They are lusts with a will of their own. They make the human being stupid and beat him with blindness. They take the body in whom they dwell in tow. They throw the human being out of his balance because he doesn't know what's happening to him. Human beings are induced to do things, which in their right mind they would certainly refrain from doing. With all the consequences this has for the other housemates and the household business. In short: what is missing from these urges, according to Cats, is the testing by reason. Now these urges can arise in the human body because the Creator has planted an innate fire in every body. This innate fire stirs the spirits and sets the mind in motion. Although the passions are active in both sexes, they express themselves differently. The man shows his hard nature in the impetuosity of his urges. The woman, on the other hand, is more quickly overpowered by lust, particularly because of her weak nature.642 But both sexes must fear the attack of the passions. Cats believes with Aristotle that passions are natural features of every human being. They cannot be missed in human life. Therefore, he does not consider the urges to be evil superfluities that should be eradicated.643 This view fits into what Konst has called ‘seventeenth-century psychology’. ‘The passiones are not only located in the sensitive soul, they also find their origin there. One of the tasks of the sensitive soul is perception. For this purpose, the external and internal “zinnen” [senses] are at its disposal. The external senses include the five senses; the internal senses include the sensus communis (...) and phantasy or imagination, which is assisted by memory. As is already evident from this rich set of instruments, perception is not limited to actual perception. For by means of the internal senses, the sensitive soul also contemplates the direct implications of what we see. This results in a certain inclination [inclinatio animalis] to pursue that which pleases us in the perceived, and to avoid that which displeases us. The urge or inclination is exclusively the fruit of the imagination and comes about without the participation of reason. The animal, with which the human being shares the sensitive soul, suffices with this urge or tendency to arrive at an 86 acceptable action. For the human being, however, this does not hold true,’ according to Quonset.644 This last point recalls the distinction Simon Stevin made between ‘behaaglijk aanzien’ [pleasing appearance] on the one hand and the good, the beautiful on the other. If human beings are to be able to rule their emotions, if they are to be able to set the measure and the rule for their passions, then one must understand how they work and how they can be restrained with the aid of reason.645 The human being ‘possesses a higher form of being in the rational soul and must therefore test the inclinatio animalis against reason. The test is of great importance because the sensitive and rational soul start from different criteria of judgment. The sensus communis and the imagination view the world from the perspective of human Nature (natura) and they ultimately determine whether a particular thing is pleasant (iucundus) or unpleasant (molestus). The judgment of reason (iudicium), however, is not on this practical, opportunistic plane, but on a higher level. The ratio [reason] considers the moral consequence. For the ratio it is not a question of whether something is pleasant or unpleasant, but whether it is good or bad. (...) No complications arise when imagination and reason are consistent with each other. What the imagination perceives as pleasant is then also good in the eyes of reason. In that case reason will transform the inclinatio animalis into a passion that is a direct extension of the felt inclination. To come to action this is necessary’.646 This view (expressed by Konst) appears to apply to spouses, according to Cats: Maer laet ons vorder gaen en goede regels leeren, Hoe dat de ziele mogt haer togten overheeren, En hoe een jonge vrou haer korsel onverstant, Mogt krijgen in den toom, ook midden in den brant. Voor eerst soo is het nut, wanneer men koomt te voelen Dat eenigh slim geswel in ons begint te woelen, Sich straks te maken op, en van den eersten aen Met alle tegenweer het quaet te wederstaen. Wort u de mont geneygt tot roepen, kijven, tieren, Gelijck men vint te zijn der gramme luy manieren, Helt met geheele magt, helt naer het tegendeel; En doodt, als in de wieg, het bitter huys-krakeel. Giet water in de vlam, en hoe de felle vlagen Het vyer door meerder kragt sijn beesig uyt te jagen, Gy, pijnt u des te meer, al eer uw tonge scheldt, Te stillen haer geluyt, te stuyten haer gewelt.647 [But let us go on and learn good rules, How the soul may exercise authority over its impulses, 87 And how a young woman can restrain her irritated silliness, Can restrain, even in the midst of ardent desire. First, it is useful, when one comes to feel That some mean tumor begins to churn in us, To resist and ward off from the beginning, To repel and resist evil. If thy mouth be inclined to shout, cuss, rant, Similar to the ways of wrathful men, Turn with all thy might, turn to the contrary; And kill, as in the cradle, the bitter house quarrel. Pour water into the flame, and make the streams of water Put out the fire with great power, Thou, do thy utmost best, before the tongue starts cursing, To silence that sound and stop its power]. Cats shows in the Houwelick how quickly the flesh and material goods arouse lust. He speaks of the frisky and vain eye, but also of the mouth, the ear, the nose, and the hand that bring the imagination to life. The five senses (hearing, seeing, taste, touch, smell) form gateways through which sensations creep in to affect the heart and bosom, the brain and mind and finally the soul as a whole. Splendor in clothing, jewelry and household goods, physical beauty, delicious food, and an abundance of beverages arouse the cravings. One makes imaginations that are stirred up by whispered flatteries and also become the source of irritation when expectations are not met. Thus, delusions, ghost images and dreams nestle in the body where they are further hatched. For Cats, the stirring up of the inner spirits stems from the unimpeded openness of the senses. As a result, the hot coals, the sparks, and the flames that Divine Nature has so generously bestowed on the human being (and, for that matter, on animals) become fanned. The fire increases in strength. The heat becomes scorching, and a blazing fire threatens. Once stoked, drives and lusts, spirits and cravings stir up the inner self. They shake up the body. They sting, fight, stir, disturb, swell, sway, rise, blow, rage, penetrate, wander, run and yaw through the body and make strange leaps. The blood becomes frisky, nippy and begins to boil violently. It becomes impetuous, lumps appear. An inward evil settles in the bosom, internally a serious tumor establishes itself. The urges bite into the chest, swell the heart or even squeeze it. The head becomes full of worries and the mind overflows with angry voices. Cats’ use of meteorological metaphors makes the turmoil that torments the body all too imaginable. He speaks of thunder, lightning, and thunderstorms, but also of severe northerly showers, blowing winds, vapor, and unhealthy fog that scourge the human body.648 When the urges are forced into narrows, they later erupt most violently.In addition to stirring the body, these urges prove to be highly 88 contagious. Their work seems completed only when they have infected others. The passions stir up the loose, unbound limbs. They urge body parts to get moving and look for a way out through all kinds of body openings. The tongue, the ‘ongetoomde lid’ [unrestrained limb], begins to move and gives birth to uncouth talk, insolent language or salacious words.649 The mouth must shout, cuss, quarrel, bass, curse, snarl, grumble and rant in order to eject caustic bile. Grumpy words, foolish arguments, snarls, and bitter voices fill the chambers. The face is fierce and the fire splashes out. Hairs stand straight up, forehead is frowned, veins swell, eyes look biting, tears are squeezed out, bulging cheeks become flecked red, nose is raised, lips clamped together, mouth begins to foam and teeth chatter.650 Then the other limbs begin to move as well. Arms and elbows, hands and feet, knees and legs are spurred into action. The gestures become surly, the limbs start kicking, pinching and hitting. The woman is hurt, given hard and fierce blows, and pinched in the cheek. The man is worked on with fists and nails and grabbed in the beard.651 Infected by the rage and consumed by hatred and anger, nothing remains at the end but a house full of clamor, noise, strife, contention, and dispute. Discord is sown, friendship runs out, the house is divided.652 Wat is dog van de mensch! om kleyne vysevasen Siet iemant menigmael de gantsche buerte rasen; Hoe dickmael om een woort, om ick en weet niet wat, Rijst tweedragt in het huys, en oproer in de stadt. De daet die wijst’et aen, dat even groote dieren, Verschricken, hortig zijn, en uytermaten tieren, En als men naderhant de rechte gronden siet, Dat is ‘t een wint, een damp, een mist, een enckel niet.653 [What is that of mankind! for small matters You often see someone raging in the neighborhood; How often for a word, for I don't know what, Discord rises in the house, and riots in the town. The act that points it out, that even large animals, Become frightened, ferocious, and rage exceedingly, And if one closer sees the true grounds, It’s only a wind, a vapor, a mist, just nothing]. In this way, evil urges, fierce impulses, and hot passions have turned many a man and woman into monsters and ghosts. Cats speaks of ‘vrouwenkwellers’ [wifebeaters], ‘manwijven’ [mannish woman], ‘jaloerse vrouwen’ [jealous wives], ‘nurkse mannen’ [gruff men], ‘gedrochten’ [freaks] and ‘hellevegen’ [hell-cats]. 89 They are good for nothing and belong in the wild forest rather than in the house.654 Like, for example, this man Cats describes: En denkt niet, echte vrou, dat wy gedichten schrijven Om eenigh grilligh hooft in sijn gebreck te stijven; Ick, in het tegendeel, verfoeye desen aert Die met de reyne trou geen soete liefde paert. Ick segge dat het volck, dat niet en houd in weerden Die God met hun verbindt, sijn monsters op der eerden, Ick segge dat de nurck die sijn geselschap quelt Sich even tegen God, en alle wetten stelt. Al die het soet verdragh uyt hare sinnen bannen; Sijn spoocken in de trou, sijn enckel huys-tyrannen, Sijn grouwels in het lant, en nutter in het wout Te brullen met den leeuw, als om te sijn getrouwt.655 [And think not, married woman, that we write poetry To stiffen a fickle head in its lack; On the contrary, I abhor that nature Because it goes ill with honest fidelity and sweet love. I believe that the people, who do not adhere to the values In which God has bound them, are monsters on the earth, I believe that the surly man who torments his company Turns even against God, who lays down all the laws. All who banish the good covenant from their mind; Are true ghosts, are mere house-tyrants, Are abominations in the land, and more useful in the forest To roar with the lion, than to be married]. But elsewhere Cats just as easily introduces a woman as a bad example: Maer, ô vervloeckte daet! ô schuym van alle plagen! Men hoort van ouden tijt, en oock in onse dagen, Als dat’er vrouwen sijn, van soo een stouten aert, Die mannen onderstaen te grijpen in den baert, Die haeren over-heer met vuysten komen tergen, En als een vollen krijg met hooge woorden vergen, Die met de nagels selfs, jae met een felle tant Verscheuren echte trou, en haren soeten bant. Ick bidde, mijn vernuft, laet dese monsters blijven, Mijn handt die schrick’er af, en weygert iet te schrijven, Mijn penne sluyt haer op, haer edel nat vervriest, Het schijnt dat al de kunst haer in de schrick verliest. 90 Een woort dan, sonder meer. heeft iemant dese vlagen, Die moet geen vrouwen naem in onse landen dragen; Want die soo byster verr’ is buyten haeren pligt, En is geen echte vrou, maer eer een helle-wigt, Een suster van de pest, die, uyt de nagt geboren, Set door een holle stem, en met een fellen horen, De steden in geschil, het lant in enckel bloet, Gehaet van Pluto selfs, en al het hels gebroet. O! dat geen helle maen, geen sonne meer en schijne, O! dat het edel ligt, en alle glans verdwijne,656 [But, O accursed deed, O foam of all plagues! One hears of old times, and also in our days, That there are women, of such a naughty nature, Who try men by grabbing in the beard, Who come to torment her husband with fists, And demand strong words as in a true war, Which with the nails even, yea with a fierce tooth Tear true loyalty, and her sweet bond I pray, thy ingenuity, let these monsters stay away, My hand, which is frightened, refuses to write, My pen closes up, her noble wet freezes, It seems that art loses itself in its terror. A word then; Whoever has these whims, Should not bear a woman's name in our lands; For if she has gone so far beyond her duty, Is not a true woman, but rather a hell-cat, A sister of the plague, who, born of the night, Brings by a hollow voice, and with a fierce rumor, The towns in dispute, the land in mere blood, Hated even by Pluto, and all the infernal spawn. O that no bright moon, no sun shine more, O that the noble light, and all lustre vanish]. These women and men are even worse than wild animals.657 The beasts too have received drives from God, but they lack reason. The human being, on the other hand, has been given a mind and a will. If a human being does not use this part of the soul by giving oneself over completely to animal passions, one does not do justice to the divine creation.658 Although procreation is an important purpose of marriage, there are quite a few men and women who see ‘wast en vermenigvuldigt u’ [grow and multiply] as a 91 license to indulge in love. The woman who, out of desire to become a mother, gives in excessively to her cravings and swallows in lust is to blame, writes Cats. Once the child is born, she may give herself over fully to her motherly desires by suckling the child herself.659 Cats also rebukes men who let their urges run wild and feast their eyes everywhere. If the man is too heated, it is better that his wife keeps out of his way until the moment is more suitable. Drunkenness and magic potions, spices and insatiable lust have no place in the marital bed. And the same goes for inappropriate pictures. Cats thinks not only of lustful images, but also of literate men who think of their work instead of their future child. Spouses who are not bothered by this commit adultery even in marital bed.660 Cats considers it part of life that ‘yder Christen-mensche den ingang en uytgangh zyns levens behoort te verstaan’ [every Christian should understand the beginning and the end of life].661 For this reason he considers it good to write about ‘heylig minnen’ [sacred intercourse], which is served by tempering, measure and rules.662 In his opinion, this is the only way to prevent shameful things from happening.663 ‘Want als het echte paer geen regel houden kan, ‘t Is schande voor de vrou, en schade voor de man’ [For if the couple cannot keep a rule, it is a shame for the wife, and a sin for the husband].664According to Cats, the marital union was not given to man merely to conceive new life (the ‘voortteling’ [procreation]) or a way to regulate unchaste urges (in accordance with the Church Fathers). He mentions a third motive. The conjugal meeting is also there to pay the debt to the wife in a pleasant way. ‘Sie hier, wettigh man, hier sijn de rechte palen, Daer over uwe jeugt geen regt en heeft te dwalen: Doe vlijt om by de vrouw te woonen sonder schult, De lust wort by gevolg, niet als een wit, gedult’ [See here, lawful husband, here are the proper boundaries, Youth has no right to stray beyond them: Make sure you live with your wife with devotion and without guilt. Lust is tolerated as a consequence, not as an end in itself].665 Cats emphasizes that the spouse, in particular, must hold back.666 First, he should conform to his wife’s natural monthly rhythm. ‘Daer sijn, oock in de trou, veel ongelege stonden, Wanneer uw kinder-sugt is dienstig ingebonden; het is een oude wet, oock voor een jonge bruyt, “Viert Mena, reyne jeugt, en stelt uw sake uyt’ [There are, even in marriage, many inopportune hours, And is it useful to curb thy desire for children; It is an old law, even for a young bride, “Celebrate Mena [the monthly menstruation], pure youth, And postpone thy gathering].667 The husband should further learn that his frequency is not hers: ‘Het bed en alle ding dat heeft een eygen tijt, Wat gister dienstig was, is heden nut gemijd’ [The bed and everything around it that has its own time, What was useful yesterday is better to avoid today].668 And finally, in this art of love the husband must learn to recognize that he must wait until his wife is mentally and physically ready.669 Only then can there be a pure and sacred conjugal union:670 92 In dien der yemant is begeerig om te weten, Hoe dat de minne plicht behoort te zijn gequeten, Die let op dit geschrift en op de bedde wet, Die u hier door de kunst voor oogen word geset. In ‘t soetste van de Mey wanneer de velden bloeijen, De kruyden jeugdig staan de boomen lustig groeien, Als gy dan hebt gerust de mage wel geteert, En dat u geen verdriet of swaar gepeyns en deert. U leden zijn verquickt vermoeytheyt weg genomen, En dat in hare plaats de geesten zijn gekomen, Soo dat u jeugdig bloet als van den slaap verweckt, Wordt gaande door het lijf en na de Vrouwe streckt, En dat u soete duyf heeft wel-gestelde sinnen, En leden wel bequaam om zaat de mogen winnen, Soo roept tot u behulp den Vader van de Trou, Begeeft u dan met ernst ontrent een jonge Vrou. En doet dat u betaamt: en naar u reyne lusten, Soo wilt noch op het bedt een weynig blijven rusten.671 [If anyone would like to know, How one should fulfill one’s duty of love, Then pay attention to this scripture and the laws of the bed, Which is here made clear to you by the art. In the sweetest of May when the fields bloom, The herbs are youthful, The trees grow cheerful, Then when you have rested, the food well digested, And you have no grief or heavy thoughts. When thy members have been refreshed, The weariness has been taken away, And in its place desire has come, So that thy youthful blood, as if by sleep, Is spurred on, To pass through the body and reach for the Woman, And that your sweet dove has well-balanced senses, And members fit to receive seed, So call to thee the Father of matrimony, Go ye earnestly to a young wife. And do what thou must: and with pure lust, And after that rest on the bed a little]. The fire that flares up automatically may be extinguished in the down of the conjugal bed. Correct times, regularity, chaste lust-inducing seductiveness keep the ‘echte werck’ [real, conjugal work] and the ‘by-een-komste van man en 93 vrouwe’ [gathering of husband and wife] within reasonable limits.672 After the deed is accomplished, it is good to rest and to entertain each other with some sweet talk: Oock sluymert noch een wijl; of soo u de slaap ontbreeckt, Soo maackt dat gy alleen van soete dingen spreeckt. Een quellig bedt-gepraat en dient geen jonge Vrouwen, En past geen echte Mans die haren acker bouwen, Gy dan jaagt bange sorg en droefheyt op de vlucht, Een acker eerst bezaayt die wil een sachte lucht. [Slumber a little longer; or if sleep be lacking, Be sure to speak only of sweet things. A complaining bed-talk is not good for young Women, And befits no husband who ploughs her field, So chase away fearful cares and sadness, A freshly sown field requires a calm air]. As has been shown so far, Cats adheres to the classical pattern in the portrayal of the passions. In the case of wrath, for example, he refers explicitly to Socrates and Seneca.673 His characterization of the desires is consistent with that in numerous theater plays, rhetoric, and painting from the seventeenth century.674 Coornhert paints in similar terms the traits of wrath.675 Carel van Mander and later Samuel van Hoogstraten describe the facial features and gestures that depict intense movements of the heart such as sadness and harshness, joy and pity.676 Yet, Jacob Cats is not merely concerned with the evocation of the fierce passions that engulf and almost destroy the house. He also indicates the remedy for such passionate excesses. The sensitive part of the soul, where imagination and fantasy are autocratic, must be helped by the sensible part. Reason and intellect, will and wisdom are helpful in restoring the balance between soul and body. Only in this way can soul and body, as inseparable partners, go through life appropriately and peacefully. Al wie soeckt wel te zijn, die moet voor alle dingen Sijn drift, sijn herts-gewoel, sijn binne kragten dwingen: Want als het innig deel niet uyt den regel gaat, Al watje menschen noemt dat wordt’er deur gebaat. Wel aan dan schout verdriet, en nijt, en Minne-vlagen, Wilt oock te grooten vreugd en gramschap van u jagen. Drijft eer- en geltsugt uyt, weert angst uyt uwen geest, En maackt dat gy alleen den grooten Schepper vreest. Noch wil ick even wel van niemant oyt begeeren, Dat hy uyt sijn gemoet sal alle tochten weeren;677 94 [Everyone who tries to be good must first Compel his drive, his restlessness of heart, his inner forces: For if the inner part does not deviate from the rule, Man as a whole will be the better for it. Then shun sorrow, envy, and heartbreak, But also dispel too great joy and too great wrath. Drive out the desire for honor and money, banish out fear from your mind, And make you fear only the great Creator. Yet I will not demand of anyone That he shall banish all desires from his soul and mind]. If husband and wife can muster this, it is good not only for themselves but also for the marital union and the house. The tools provided by Cats correspond largely to the theory of the human psyche formulated by others at that time.678 First, reason as a special faculty of the human soul must be restored to its power. Second, by wise policy one can banish one’s own evil desires. For Cats, this means ruling too violent stirrings. Regulating or tempering the various passions Cats understands as a relentless mediating activity between extremes in the Aristotelian sense.679 Once one’s own soul has been brought ‘in rust’ [at rest] and ‘in balans’ [in balance], then – thirdly – the inborn temperament of the ‘wederhelft’ [counterpart] can be appropriately adjusted. In this way Cats is able to set up a web of permanent regulation both in each of the spouses individually, as well as between them, a web that is as concise in its elements as it is multiple in its effects. It comes down to the following components. ‘Ken u zelve’ [Know thyself]' is the first requirement for attaining a balanced soul.680 Cats advises the woman to set up an inner court in her heart.681 This court should judge all the weeds that are so rampant there and pollute the mind. With all one’s strength one should examine oneself, sift one’s thoughts, and test one’s images. Only by a constant searching, turning over and ploughing of the mind (by installing a ‘vierschaar’ [court of justice] in one’s own heart, writes Cats) can one test oneself. By pushing away the bad things and picking up the good deeds one can command the senses and desires. This should be done continuously, but especially in the evening before going to bed. When the day is over, the good and wise policies can be implemented.682 The understanding of evil lusts, resentful cravings, and lustful yearnings can temper them.683 With united forces, foreign inclinations and evil whims must be killed, broken down, extinguished, smothered, driven out, expelled and cast out. Completely eradicating the cravings, however, Cats considers, as shown above, inappropriate.684 It is even better to bind the passions in good time, that is, before they shoot up to great heights, like a good gardener. The passions are useful plants in the garden 95 of the soul, says Cats, provided they are in due course pruned, trimmed, pruned, stemmed, curbed, restrained, and bridled. Mind, heart, spirit, bosom, and soul must be emptied, cleared, purified, cleansed, and cleared of stupidity and reason must take its rightful place. Sloth should be driven out of the limbs, the tongue gagged and bound, and temptations should be avoided and shunned.685 Sorrow, fear and anger should be shunned and repelled, as well as too much joy and love.686 Anything that moves and excites the senses should be avoided. The woman should not sit idly at the window with her hands in her lap.687 The husband should not be tempted by employing a handsome chambermaid.688 The suckling of the child should be hidden from view. In separate chambers in the house the access of which is denied to anyone not concerned. Cats shows great concern for the looks young people give the nursing mother.689 How much burning lust torments is evident from the examples Cats presents. Not only the widow is subject to it, but especially the husband. He advises her to curb her lust by abstaining from drink and food on the one hand, and by visiting the sick and dying on the other.690 The man, helpless as he is by his nature, receives from Cats many advices to be able to subdue his impetuous fire somewhat. Abstaining from drink, food, sensual books or plays shrivels the desire. ‘Gy die van liefde brandt en wenst te sijn genesen, En wilt geen dertel jock of geen Poëten lesen, (...). Vermijt doch boven al de geyle kamer-spelen, Die met haar dertel jock ons beste sinnen stelen’ [You who burn with love and wish to be cured, Then you should not read licentious amusements or Poets, (...). Yet above all avoid the frisky chamber-play, Which with its horny jest, Steal our best senses].691 The same can be achieved by steady work, little sleep and avoiding or even fleeing from seductive situations. Imagining two seductive virgins instead of one (as Ovid recommends), thinking of a sad event, or thinking back to the virgin’s flaws (such as the liniments and powders she uses to seduce him) also appear to reduce desire. In any case, this approach is Cats’ preference over the use of camphor or other medicinal remedies.692 In short, reason must take charge of the senses and they must conform to reason. Reason sets the rules and the requirements. In doing so, reason must proceed with wisdom by tempering, attenuating, and reducing the desires according to measure and rule.693 To acquire respectability, the man must struggle. He must try to transform his carnal lust into a spiritual force, says Cats in his ‘Selfstrijt’ [Self-Struggle].694 The temperance and inner peace that Cats hopes to achieve in this way is not a passive virtue that one should merely perform piously. There is no question of an internal and lasting serenity. The balance between reason and cravings requires incessant attention. The reasonable managing of the passions is a dialectical activity, in accordance with the Aristotelian view. There is no question of ‘eliminating’ the emotions for Aristotle and his followers, ‘because they consider emotions to be inherent to human nature’, according to Konst.695 ‘If the passiones do not manifest themselves too fiercely and at the same time accept the 96 government of reason, they are no threat to man in the eyes of the Peripatetics. Rather, the opposite is true, for if restrained by reason, passions can contribute to virtue’.696 Just as a pair of scales remains at rest because the weights on either side cancel each other out, so one must take care of body and soul. Here, reason and will form a mechanism of feedback whereby the fiery inclinations are turned to good. After all, the day-to-day state of affairs ensures that the balance is constantly being tested. Being ‘at rest’ is thus a precarious result that has to be achieved each time through the dynamics of the psychic forces. Moderation, in Cats’ view, in accordance with the Aristotelian view, means an active and continuous management of the different layers in the soul and body.697 For peaceful living together in the house, Cats emphasizes, both wife and husband must learn that both sexes have distinct natures. Only in this way can they avoid annoyance towards their counterpart and conjugal union is possible. This sex difference can already be observed in children. Anyone who pays attention can see from the play that a girl is inclined to do different things than a boy.698 Each sex has special characteristics. Everyone can cultivate these talents, which were given to them as gifts from God, throughout their lives. Thus, boys tend to perform rough, noisy and courageous tasks for the benefit of the country; girls tend to rock the cradle, play with a doll and do little things for the benefit of the kitchen (bp.3.19.1).699 Many of the urges are fueled by exasperation that arises when one harbors unfulfillable expectations toward the other. Not infrequently, one makes images of the other without taking into account his or her special nature. The husband is irritated by his wife when she does not fulfill the domestic duties according to his expectations.700 Or when she does not welcome him home from a long trip as he had imagined. Or when she is not always ready to receive the unexpected guests he brings into the house. The wife, in turn, becomes agitated when her husband interrupts her in her busy activities. Or when he is surly and walks around the house with furrowed brows. Or when he rebukes and reprimands her in front of others. A wise man values his wife on the basis of the qualities she possesses, and not on the basis of other people’s qualities.701 For just as one should not treat a tar glass as an iron pot and a porcelain dish as a copper bowl, so a man should not demand from his wife firmness in reasoning and strength in patience – something he may expect from another man.702 Her attributes, brought in by Nature, ‘kunnen in enig opzicht vergeleken worden met zwakke vaten’ [may in some respect be compared to weak vessels]. Cats here restates a general view.703 And conversely, a sensible wife will allow her husband his impatient, capricious and haughty nature. If her remarks about his failings strike him like a knife to the heart, the wife should not address him in that way. In that case it is better to respect the man and write him a letter. Then the man, in the face of the written word, can take her criticism to heart while maintaining his standing.704 97 As a general remedy to prevent marital suffering, Cats therefore exhorts both spouses to keep in mind the special nature of their partner and to be above the other’s weaknesses. For example, the wife should take little notice of her husband when he uses expletives or is sometimes too temperamental. He advises the husband not to let his wife’s complaining about the neighbors upset him. His advice is the same for both spouses: don’t blame the other for his or her weaknesses, temporarily close your eyes and ears and deceive yourself for the sake of peace. It is unwise to be tempted by a grim, grumpy, and hasty reaction (bp.3.21.1-2). It is better to let the temper boil over or calm the tempers in some other way.705 With sweet persuasion, a wise word, or a laugh, a man can be pacified.706 With the telling of a nice story, a caress or the bestowing of a kiss, a woman becomes a different person. ‘Wie sal met beter aert het manne-breyn bewegen, Als sijn geminde vrou? die, naer het is gelegen, Hem leyden, overgaen, en onderwijsen mag, Of door een deftig woort, of door een soeten lag’ [Who with better qualities shall move the man's brain, as his beloved wife? Who, according to the situation, may lead, meet, and teach him, by a serious word, or by a sweet laugh].707 If one extends this wise policy to children and servants who are also treated in this way, then the housewife shows herself worthy, the spouses command respect and they render the house as a whole a good service. ‘Een woort te regter tijt met reden uyt te spreken, Met soetheyt streng te sijn, de togten af te breken, En slegs door reyne sugt te worden aengeraeckt, Dat is de weerde deugt die vrouwen achtbaer maeckt’ [To utter a word at the right time with reason, To be strict with sweetness, to break down the passions, And to be touched only by an honest inclination, That is the precious virtue that makes women venerable].708 Children should not be punished out of the anger a parent feels. They should be approached calmly and consistently, so that they learn to understand what the rules are that they must follow.709 With a soul freed from evil urges, the spouses can practice doing what is right. Thus, the house comes to be marked by discipline, virtue, thoughtfulness, wise speech, friendly conversation.710 Being sober-minded, exercising patience, bending one’s senses and giving allegiance are pre-eminent ways to incline oneself to the other to whom one has finally pledged one’s heart.711 For the master of the house, this means paying heed to the age of his younger wife. Especially with her tender limbs and the physical pain she must suffer partly because of his actions during defloration and childbirth. Daar komt het kinderbed, het kraam, het anxtig baren, Och! is’er noch een maagt genegen om te paren? Daar komt de bange stont daar aan het leven hangt, Ja daar men na de pijn, en na een wee verlangt. Ten lesten, als men Godt ootmoedig heeft gebeden, En als de moeder sweet door al de swacke leden, 98 Soo komt, na lang gekerm, en na een diep gesucht, Soo komt’er op het lest, eylaas! een kleine vrucht.712 [There comes the childbed, the maternity time, the anxious giving birth, Och! Is there any virgin willing to mate? There comes the fearful hour on which life depends, If one longs for pain, and for a contraction. At last, when one has humbly prayed to God, And when the mother sweats through all the weak members, Then, after long moaning, and after a deep sigh, Then comes at last, alas! a little child]. Not only the birth of the child, but also the feeding hurts the mother physically. ‘Sy, die een teere vrugt laet eyge borsn suygen, Sal tot de soete pligt haer leden willig buygen, En schoon het doet haer wee, sy acht de pijne niet, maer voelt een staege vreugt, als sy haer maeksel siet’ [She, who lets a tender fruit suckle her own breasts, Will willingly bend her members to this sweet duty And though it hurts her, she ignores it, But feels a lingering joy, when she sees her creation].713 The husband should therefore ease the yoke that his wife carries.714 But at the same time he should observe her virtues attentively and with interest.715 He should appreciate her diligence, praise her gifts, and value her friendship. In short, as her guardian, he must honor her with all his might and give her his love.716 The mistress of the house, for her part, has the duty to consider his nature and ardent members.717 She does this by quieting her heart and mind.718 She harbors in her mind motionless, silent, and subdued senses. She arms her heart by sealing eye and womb, breast and mouth, ear, and tongue.719 Her lips must be silent, but when she speaks her words are honeyed and her voice gives a friendly sound. Her eyes are downcast and closed, but when she opens them, they are astute, soft, witty, and full of brilliance.720 Her cheeks show a natural blush and are devoid of adornment.721 In short, the mistress of the house is wise, shows a happy and kind face. Her being radiates light. The force she uses should be gentle.722 Weest sagt in uw gemoet, en soet in uw manieren; U voegt geen wrange geest, u dient geen vinnig stael, Het sweert dat u betaemt, dat is beleefde tael: U dient geen bloedig mes, geen ander hatig wapen, Pleegt liefde, soet geslagt, gy sijt’er toe geschapen: Noyt sag men dat’er vrou een goede daet bestont, Als door een heus gebaer, en met een soeten mont. Een swijn vegt met den tant, een osse met den horen, Een bye met de strael, een hane met de sporen, Een luypaert met de klau, een slange door fenijn: Maer uw gewelt bestaet alleen in soet te sijn. 99 [Be gentle in thy mind, and sweet in thy ways; No bitter spirit befits thee, no fierce example, The sword that thou hast, that is well-mannered: You fit no bloody knife, no other hideous weapon, Commit love, sweet sex, you were created for it: Never was a woman seen to do a good deed Other than by a kind gesture, and with a soft mouth. A boar fights with the tooth, an ox with the horn, A bee with the sting, a cock with the spurs, A leopard with the claw, A snake with the venom: But thy violence consists only in being sweet]. She exercises her power by speaking wise words in order to touch and overcome her husband’s heart.723 Through these efforts on both sides, the spouses will grow in love.724 They will confide in each other their thoughts, draw closer to each other, and mutually let the sharp edges disappear. The bed becomes a harbor of tranquility, the house a peaceful place.725 Thus, mastering the senses is a friendly service that man and woman owe each other. They transform their own desires, their wills and senses into mutual love.726 By protecting the other’s weaknesses, the marital bond is established for the rest of their life. For this reason, Cats considers ‘enten’ [grafting] a suitable equation for marriage, a ‘sinne-beelt voor nieuwgehoude paren’ [emblem for newly married couples] (bp.3.23.1-3). The wife is like a branch grafted onto a trunk (the husband). For the grafting to be successful, the woman must bow, tend, and conform to the man.727 The man contributes to the success of the whole by pruning all the useless branches on his trunk. Both thus take care not to disturb this Both thus take care not to disturb this fledgling but long-lasting growing process. but long-lasting growing process. She does this by getting to know her husband in his doings, by ‘man te drincken in, en haar man te drukken uit’ [take in how the man is and put that into words].728 He, on the other hand, does this by adopting a ‘vrouwenaert’ [woman’s nature], by becoming patient and gentle.729 Only by absorbing the condition of the other can the couple remain in balance. Thus, the actual foundations are laid for a peaceful, consensual, and thus longlasting domestic enterprise.730 Cats sometimes goes one step further. Occasionally he gives outright stage directions as to how husband and wife should behave at certain, dramatic moments. Whenever the peace in the house is in danger of being disturbed, he jumps on stage as director. In case of a quarrel, he advises the wife to throw her arm round her husband’s neck, caress him sweetly and kiss him kindly, just until his resentment is extinguished.731 She must stick like leech to his limbs, fall upon 100 his neck, touch his cheeks, and cling to his body. Although Cats first addresses the woman as peacemaker, he explicitly exhorts the man to do his part in the reconciliation. If his wife is too stubborn, then he should make the first move. Instead of using his hand to beat his wife, he should caress her.732 He should take her to him, grasp her by the arm, and kiss her mouth. Only in this way can the spouses lay the foundation for reconciliation.733 If the partner actually falls short, then Cats considers it the duty of husband or wife to intervene. Yet rebuking an errant wife or husband concerns only the couple. When his wife makes a mistake in front of others, the husband should not openly addressing her in a punitive manner. By a silent hint or an amiable face, he should signal to her that she is not doing her job properly. Only in the bedchamber does the husband clarify where his wife has failed. In the reverse case, too, the bedchamber proves its service. There the sensible wife can admonish her erring husband, lecture him, and set him straight again.734 There are two other moments that easily evoke violent sentiments and are therefore provided with stage directions by Cats. For example, he describes the man’s departure and homecoming as performances in which the man is to be treated with all due respect. When the day of parting has arrived and the man is about to leave, the woman can show her benevolence by giving him her own handmade pastries. If possible, she will accompany him to the carriage or ship in which he will travel. If it is too difficult for her to say goodbye there, it is better to embrace him in the house, to wish him a good journey and to express the hope that God will protect him from misfortune on his journey. To make the return joyful and not disappoint the husband in his expectations, the wife can undertake all kinds of things again. Throw your arms round your husband’s neck and welcome him, Cats urges her. Throw yourself into his arms and ask how the journey was, by what vehicle he came and with what safe-conduct. And dear, Cats continues, why not give him a kiss in the meantime?735 In this way, Cats gives numerous pieces of advice on how to act practically in everyday life in and around the house. There are always occasions when one of the partners is disturbed or has an irritated temper. Cats’ advice is based on reciprocity, whereby the spouses are made equally obligated to each other. But the structure of his discourse makes it hard to see this. Not infrequently the matching or complementary parts are pages apart. I shall deal with this more general question in section 3.2.3. I will give here only two examples, taken from life, which can stir up marital feelings. Firstly, Cats forbids the married man to ‘een vreemde akker te spitten’ [plowing into a strange field].736 For even though, as master of the house, he has authority over the house, he does not have full power over his limbs. He is not entitled, when he is away from his house for long periods of time because of work, to look for someone to refresh him. His body belongs to the woman. For where two are legally joined in marriage, says Cats, there can be 101 no right of an unequal nature. Because of the preservation of marriage and the honor of the woman, therefore, the man must not surrender himself completely to his urges. He must submit and confine himself to his own house.737 Many pages later, Cats commands the wife to be physically willing to her husband on a regular basis. She is not to turn her back on her husband, who limits himself to the house of his own free will, or angrily refuse him. Sleeping together is something the wife must learn. Even in bed, feelings and gestures are regulated: the wife is not to be swayed by her own feelings, nor those of her husband. She must avoid her ‘vrient in heete tochten mijden’ [friend, subject to hot cravings] and never touch him but on ‘op bequame tijden’ [at appropriate times].738 ‘Leer van den eersten af, rugh, hant, en voet gewennen, Haer by-slaep eere doen, haer nacht-geselschap kennen; Op dat geen kromme bocht, of ander vreemt gestel Of leet of hinder doe aen uwen bet-gesel’ [Learn from the beginning, back, hand, and foot to do honor to the intercourse, Learn to know your night-companion; So that no strange cures, or any other strange condition, bring suffering or annoyance to your bed-fellow].739 So, both spouses are told by Cats to sacrifice something at this point, and to do so for the greater honor and glory of their joint marriage.740 The wife accepts her seclusion in the house, husband must accept in gratitude.741 The husband accepts to curb his lust by behaving chastely outside the house.742 The wife, in turn, should accept this in gratitude too. Similar instructions are given by Cats around the meal, albeit that both viewpoints are much more directly linked in the text. He orders the woman to adapt her cooking to her husband’s taste and to get her own mouth or stomach used to it.743 For the man, however, this does not mean a license to indulge his gluttony or make demands on the food. Cats instructs him to just eat what the pot provides.744 Thus, both are dependent on the other. The mistress of the house must accommodate her husband in his tastes as much as possible; he must do his best by eating what his wife puts in front of him. The passage that connects these two fragments of text illustrates once again that Cats follows a cunning method: “Waer wil en tegen wil te samen wort gepast, “Daer rijst een ware sugt, en set de liefde vast.745 [“Where will and counter-will together are accurately matched, “There rises true affection and establishes love]. The Houwelick therefore amounts to a plea for self-management and the management of the conjugal counterpart. The woman must learn to know her own strength so that she can keep her husband from evil; the man does the same for his wife. The wife must protect her husband’s weaknesses and the husband hers. The 102 husband must submit to her ruling of the household enterprise, but in a similar way the wife must conform to her husband’s domestic policy.746 Time and again, Cats commits both spouses to each other with a view to the perfect marriage as the higher goal. One could say that Cats condemns the spouses to each other, and for life. From a contemporary perspective, that looks rather threatening, depressing, and curtailing. But in the early modern Europe such mutual dependence, according to Cats, has two advantages. First, the covenant offers both spouses a protection from their weak sides. Whatever these may be, each married man or woman has a duty of care for the other so that that weakness may be hurt as little as possible.747 Love serves as a cloak that covers their flaws. In doing so, those flaws also remain in the house, hidden from the eye of the neighbors and the fellow townsmen who shamelessly mock all weaknesses. Second, the alliance provides each of the spouses with a tool to guide the other and keep them from evil thoughts and wrong actions.748 Doing good, keeping promises made, respecting the relationships in the house forces the other to behave.749 As time goes by, love becomes closer and more solid as it goes along.750 Ingeniously, Cats brings the spouses closer together through the management of their inclinations, urges, passions and strivings. Marriage becomes a junction of two asymmetrical but complementary relationships.751 The weak man becomes intertwined with the strong woman and the weak woman with the strong man.752 This creates a tight fabric in which both partners, precisely because of their natural differences, can treat each other as equals. That fabric ultimately forms a stable marriage. The multiple connections thus created bring about a balance that benefits not only the household enterprise. It forms a favorable basis for the education of children. Parents should not think too lightly of this task, Cats warns, because the future of the world rests on the youth.753 If one only meddles with property and goods and leaves one’s greatest treasure (the children) untouched, everything will be for nothing. Parents do not merely bestow life on the child – children are like wild lands that must be cultivated. During the first seven years, the mother must weed and prune, teach life skills and good morals to guide the child’s mind. ‘Leer, jonge moeder, leer, oock van de minste dieren, het kinder onverstant naer goede seden stieren; Niet dat’er eenigh man in vrouwen hooger prijst, Als dat haer rijpe sorg de kinders onderwijst’ [Learn, young mother, learn, even from the least animals, to form the child's innocence according to good morals; Nothing that a man prizes in women higher, than her deliberate care to teach the children]. Thus, Cats regards the mother as the cradle of morals.754 After that, the father is obliged to initiate the child in language and ‘de kunsten’ [the arts]. Because a human being can never lose the cultural baggage he has been given. ‘Dat is de beste schat die t’huys en over al, Haer teer-gelt, haer vermaeck, haer steunsel wesen sal’ [Children are in every way the best treasure of the house, preciousness, 103 entertainment, and support].755 All children, by the way, should be treated equally. Cats considers it wrong when father or mother have a sweetest child.756 Further, marital balance provides the starting point for practicing charity. And finally, such a marriage is of benefit to the commonwealth because it generates men (and women) who are capable of governing a domain of their own. Viewed in this way, therefore, according to Jacob Cats, a house in which there is turmoil does not benefit from a separation of table and bed. This deprives husband and wife of the most important means of shaping marriage and, on the contrary, will bring the dissolution of the family closer.757 Reconciliation, which requires husband and wife to roll up their sleeves and come to a sensible agreement, is, in Cats’ view, a more adequate means of bringing peace and tranquility to the house. In short, perfect marriage is a benefit to all, which Cats expresses as follows: Getroude, jonck en out, weest my hier in getuygen, Soo maer een hevigh man sijn tochten wilde buygen; Soo maer een haestigh wijf wou snoeren haren mont, Dat trouwen soude sijn het soetste dat men vont. Gy mans, uw vierigh breyn, gy vrouwen uwe tongen, Sijn oirboir ingetoomt, en nut te zijn gedwongen, (...) Want was het echte paer vol-leert in dit geval, Het soude vreedsaem sijn te huys en overal.758 [Married, young and old, be hereby my witness, If any madman would bend his passions; If only a hot-tempered woman would keep her mouth shut, Then marriage would be the sweetest thing one can find. You men, your fiery brains, You women, your tongues, Must be orderly restrained and it is useful to force them to do so (...) For if the conjugal couple in this case would be fully qualified, It would be peaceful in the house and everywhere]. 104 3.1.4. The House as Place of Spirituality Above the earthly and carnal concerns that fill the house and the lives of the housemates, Jacob Cats finally stretches a spiritual vault. Between the lines, the foregoing already revealed something of a divine dome. After all, since the Reformation, everyday work has generally acquired a sheen of eternity.759 Doing the things that must be done in ordinary life becomes an honorable vocation (‘beroep’ [profession]) in the religious sense of the word. In mastering the passions that trouble the soul, the body, and the house, a spiritual dimension resonates with Jacob Cats. In the doing of daily works and the pursuit of peace of mind, a humble path to God unfolds.760 Except in the Houwelick, Cats maintains a spiritual tone in the rest of his work. Numerous references to a Christian universe occur in the margins of his emblems, in the prefaces to the various writings, and in the footnotes of his work. Christian symbolism lies over the older Jewish and pagan-antique layers and in a sense enters into a conversation with them. In this way, new connections and meanings are generated, in which other layers continue to operate. In order to do justice to the various layers, I have so far deliberately not gone too deeply into the religious dimension of his work. Spirituality deserves a separate discussion and has its own logic.761 This does not mean that I start from a theological or a churchhistorical question. Apart from the fact that it is not my field, I am not so much concerned with Cats’ place amidst the disputes and schisms that characterize religious life in seventeenth-century Holland. Moreover, much research has already been done into that field.762 Therefore I shall here, as always, take a more cultural-historical view. That also has advantages. Certain matters are more easily overlooked by starting from well-defined religious frameworks.763 Those who take Cats as a ‘Calvinist’ from the outset may overlook some ‘inappropriate’ matters.764 The emphasis in this section is therefore on the question with which religious ideas Cats enriched the house built for this purpose and thus anchored it in a Christian spiritual order. Therefore, I will extend the house with one more floor. And literally so because this spiritual layer is explicitly vertical in focus. The house, in Cats’ eyes, is not only the place where husband and wife handle their earthly or ‘horizontal’ affairs. As a demarcated and protected domain, it is also a territory where the soul, once at rest, can practice undisturbed and collect ‘teergeld’ [travel money] in preparation for the journey to higher, spiritual realms. In this respect, Cats’ house is a worthy replacement for the monasteries abolished by the Reformation, where monks and nuns worked on their spiritual enrichment and elevation. Cats makes the house a sanctified place comparable to this. At the same time, the situation in which religion is the business of a (learned) elite is replaced by an 105 individual study of the Bible by men and women in the house.765 And with this, Cats also completes the contours of the house. Finished and completed, the house is a self-contained structure, the place par excellence where the human being is incorporated into a more encompassing cosmic order. The house has become a holy place where the Christian householder and the Christian housewife have their domicile.766 Now, of course, Cats is not alone in his upgrading of the house as a holy place. In Jewish tradition the house has long had a similar connotation, according to Herweg: ‘So ist das jüdische Haus der kollektive Erinnerungsort der göttlichen Offenbarung’ [Thus, the Jewish house is the collective memory place of the divine revelation].767 Hoffmann has shown that the house was already seen at the beginning of Christianity as a place where one could also serve God.768 Many authors have pointed out Cats’ affinity with Reformed Pietism and English Puritanism in which the ‘Christian household’ is also preached. Several of the themes I have discussed above are identifiable in such writings. In doing so, Cats would be in line with the endeavor among Reformed ministers to establish a pious, devout, and virtuous conduct in life in the households and thus spread the Reformed faith.769 Yet this similarity between Cats and, for example, Wittewrongel or the contemporary German ‘Hausväterliteratur’ [Housefather’s literature], cannot obscure the fact that these were divergent goals. To summarize Cats’ Houwelick as a book of advice for the virtuous and Christian lifestyle of the married couple does his work short. Such a short-circuit misses not only his poetic and rhetorical strategies to which I will return, but above all the spiritual stakes of his writings. Of virtues Cats speaks abundantly, but in the sense of doing the right thing in life. However, there is no mention of a far-reaching organization of the life in the house to serve Jesus Christ. Cats does not speak as an author who advocates a Christian home ethic, nor as a preacher who regards the household as an instrument of religious politics.770 Cats’ spiritual symbolism is, first, about divine comfort and meaningful suffering; second, about the central place accorded the house as a sacred place and the household as a holy unit. In section 3.1.2. I explained that Jacob Cats sees loving and marrying as a fundamental principle of the divine universe. On the one hand he generates a tableau of characters. On the other hand, he considers this tableau as a fixed lead that guides the spouses throughout their lives.771 In the honest courtship, the inner turmoil that makes men and women by nature craving for each other is transformed in such a way that the attraction is turned into a marriage with the right partner at the right time.772 In the conjugal union, both spouses work to perpetuate and strengthen their love bond until death cuts the earthly marriage ties. 106 The spiritual universe that Cats imagines rests on four pillars. Two of them are the visions that mark ‘the beginning’ and ‘the end’ of this perpetual Christian vault. The first vision is the ‘Grondhouwelick’ [Basic Marriage] that God establishes between Adam and Eve in Paradise at the end of His Creation.773 The second vision concerns the completion of the marriage in the Resurrection. The ascension to heaven of pure souls is understood as a marriage with their Creator.774 A Spiritual Marriage is established unto eternity.775 Between ‘in the beginning’ and ‘unto eternity’ the cosmic arc of love thus extends.776 Human life, on the other hand, is locked between birth and death. Haunted by misfortunes and beset by calamities, the human being has at his disposal two aids in life to bear his fate.777 In spiritual exercise and in the physical union of the spouses, the human being can symbolically partake of the miracle created by God.778 Thus the Christian couple establishes a ‘huiselijke kerk’ [domestic church].779 With his visionary descriptions of Paradise and Heavenly Jerusalem, Jacob Cats installs the Christian universe. Three elements of these evocations are important for the spiritual status of the house: the place of action, the interaction between the housemates, and the nature of their unification. With his staging of the Garden of Eden and the Heavenly Jerusalem, Cats evokes an imagination that is as visual as it is powerful. Sentence by sentence, he paints Paradise as a landscape in which God’s wonders are displayed. The light shows the world being created.780 Here is the sky in which Sun and Moon begin their orbit. There are the winds and the dew that descend on the foliage, the trees, and the fruit. Murmurs and sweet smells rise from the crop. Streams of water meander their way through the land, abundantly lined with herbs and flowering grass. God, door sijn eeuwig Woordt, en uyt sijn hoog vermogen, Hadt om dit wonder Al een hellen glans getogen, Had nu den swarten nacht gescheyden van den dag, Soo dat men door het licht sijn groote wondren sag. Het aerdrijck stont geset, en konstig onderscheyden, Met dieptens overhant, en hoogtens tusschen beyden; Den Hemel, uyt-gebreyd gelijck een schoon tapijt, Droeg in sijn hoog verwulf de peylen van den tijt. De lugt, tot haer cieraet, had duysent helle stralen, Die aen den Hemel staen, en om de wereld dwalen; Men sagh de bleecke maen, men sag de gulde son, Men sag hoe datse rees, en haren loop begon. De winden vlogen uyt, en sweefden op de stroomen, En maeckten sagt geruys ontrent de jonge boomen: Een dau, vol soeten geur, gesegen uyt de lugt, Gaf voedtsel aen het loof en aen de jonge vrugt. 107 Het water lag gebogt in sijn bescheyde palen, En mogt van nu voortaen niet elders henen dwalen; Het landt was over-kleet met gras en edel kruyt, En schoot, oock sonder saet, sijn gulle botten uyt. De schepsels zijn geplaetst op veelderley manieren; Ontrent het dichte bosch daer zijn de wilde dieren, De steen-bock vint vermaek daer hooge rotsen zijn, En in een diepen kuyl daer woont het schuw konijn. De vogels is de lucht tot haer verblijf gegeven, Om met een vryen loop aldaer te mogen sweven, De vissen is belast te swemmen in de zee, En al waer groente wies daer sprong het weelig vee.781 [God, by His eternal Word, and by His great power, Had shown this wonderful, miracle All with a bright brilliance, Had now separated the black night from the day, So that by the light his great wonders were seen. The earth was placed, and clearly differentiated, With valleys here and there, and mountains in between; The Heavens, expanded like a beautiful carpet, Bore in its high vault the signs of the times. The sky, for adornment, had thousands of bright rays, That stand in Heaven and wander round the world; One saw the pale moon, one saw the golden sun, One saw how she rose, and her course began. The winds flew out, and floated on the waves, And made soft murmurs on the young trees: Dew, full of sweet fragrance, Received from the sky, Gave food to the foliage and young fruit. The water meandered between separate boundaries, And may from now on wander no where else The land was covered with grass and noble herbs, And sprouted, even without seed, its generous twigs. The creatures are placed in all sorts of ways; Around the dense forest there are the wild animals, The stone-bock finds pleasure where high rocks are, And in a deep pit there dwells the shy rabbit. The birds in the sky for their stay given, To soar freely, The fish are given to swim in the sea, And where the vegetables grow, Where the fertile cattle jumps]. 108 In the midst of this landscape, God strikes the stakes for the Garden of earthly delights. By planting hedges and trees, He creates a garden with beautiful lanes and streams full of clear water. Full of flowers, fruits and here and there some young animals. Among all kinds of trees, God has placed two special trees for the soul. In addition to the Tree of Good and Evil, there is a miraculous Tree of Youth that drives away all disease and pain.782 The Garden is free from natural hazards. North wind and fog, severe frost and fierce cold, gusts of rain, lightning and thunder, hoarfrost, hail, and fierce sunburn are absent.783 Opposite this earthly paradise of the past is another image: in the high heavens rises the New Jerusalem.784 A town appears, enclosed by walls, with streets unfolding inward from the gates. Rich and beautiful, pure, and glorious is the urban landscape of pure light. The Tree of Life grows there, bestowing salutary leaves, but also happiness and pure pleasure, peace, and tranquility.785 Bedenckt een schoone stad die niet als helle stralen Laet uyt het rijck gebouw van hare poorten dalen, Een stad, een heerlick werck, gelijck’er noyt en was, Een stad, een schoon juweel, daer klare beken vloeyen Tot heyl van al het volck; daer nutte vruchten groeyen Ten goede van de siel, een stad, een reyne stad, Die in een ‘s menschen hert noyt recht en is gevat. Daer is een helle son, die noyt en laet te schijnen, Daer is een wonder licht, dat niet en sal verdwijnen, Daer is des Heeren Bruyt, daer is de ware min, Geen quaet en raeckt’er aen, geen vuyl en komt’er in. O nieuw Jerusalem! hoe klaer sijn uwe straten! Hoe reyn uw borgery! hoe suyver alle vaten! Hoe sijn uw gronden selfs met alle glans bekroont, Daer Godt in volle daet sijn eygen wesen toont!786 [Think of a beautiful city in which only bright rays Descend from the rich building of her gates A city, a glorious work, such as there never was before A city, a beautiful jewel, where clear streams flow To the salvation of all the people; where useful fruits grow For the good of the soul, a city, a pure city, Which in a man’s heart hath never been rightly known. There is a bright sun, that keeps shining forever, There’s a miracle light that won't go away, There is the Bride of the Lord, there is the true love, No evil touches it, no dirt enters it. O new Jerusalem, how glorious are thy streets! How pure are thy burghers! How pure are all the vessels! 109 How even thy grounds are crowned with all their glory, Where God in full action shows his own being!] In these two scenes the protagonists then appear. Now that God has created Paradise as a small world in all its splendor, only the figure of the human being is missing. God molds Adam from red clay and breathes life into him. Cats again describes Adam as a small world and considers him the raison d'être of the wonderful, miracle All.787 But for life to flourish, solitude must give way to twosome, to twoness. After Adam is overcome by sleep and overwhelmed by dreams, God creates Eve from his side.788 Cats’ – like many other humanist and reformed writers – emphasizes Eve’s equality. The argument is that the woman is created not from the foot nor the head of the man, but from his side, as a sign that she stands beside him in life. They are ‘mede-mensen’ [fellow human beings] and must be helpful to each other in both strength and compassion.789 When Adam awakens and sees Eve, he is moved by sweet emotions. Only then does he know what to do in life.790 He welcomes the woman as his own flesh, his greatest treasure and dearest help, and praises her beauty. Up to three times he urges Eve to complete God’s work (in their carnal union).791 But Eve is appalled by his haste and wants to make sense of her creation; she wants to understand her coming into the world and thank her Creator for this gift.792 Although Adam is very impressed by her wise arguments, in the end the measure proves full for him. ’t Is vry een deftig werk dat Godt heeft uytgevonden, En met een woordt geleydt des werelts vaste gronden, Dat God heeft uytgewracht de wijt-gestreckte zee, En al het ruyge wildt, en al het gladde vee; Maer dat hy heeft gemaekt wanneer ik was ontslapen, En uyt mijn jeugdig vleys met eygen hant geschapen, Is vry het schoonste stuck dat immer was geteelt, Daer schuylt een werelt selfs in dit verheven beelt. Wel, eer ik elders ga, mijn plicht dient hier gequeten, En dit gewenste pant is waert te zijn beseten. Van al dat is gemaeckt, door Godes hoogen geest, Bevalt gy, schoon juweel, mijn jonge sinnen meest. Indien ick anders ging, wat sou de Schepper seggen? Hy sou my voor gewis te laste komen leggen, Dat ick geen rechte sugt en hadde toe-gebracht Tot u, mijn waerdste deel, dat hy soo waerdig acht. Vriendinne, ‘t is genoeg. Hier dient geen tegenstreven, Gy zijt my tot behulp, tot soete vreugt gegeven, Gy zijt mijn weder-helft, mijn ander Ick genaemt, Laet ons te samen zijn, gelijck het ons betaemt.793 110 It is certainly a weighty work that God has invented, And with a word laid the solid foundations of the world, That God has made the vast sea, And all the wild beasts, and all the fat cattle; But that he made while I slept, And from my youthful flesh with his own hand created, Is the most beautiful piece that was ever grown, There’s a world even in this lofty image. Well, before I go elsewhere, I must discharge my duty, And this dear property is worthy to be possessed. Of all that it is made, by God's high mind, You, beautiful jewel, are the most pleasing to my young senses. If I did not respond to this, what would the Creator say? He would surely come to charge me, That I had bestowed no real desire To thee, my dearest part, that he deems so worthy. Girlfriend, that’s enough. There is no need to struggle, Thou art given to me for help, for sweet delight, Thou art my other half, my other self, Let us be together, as we should be. To get in the mood, the two of them then walk through Paradise until they finally settle on a sweet spot. Het soet en aerdig paer, vervoert in hare reden, Quam tot aen dese plaets allenskens aengetreden, En midts de jongeling de schoone velden sag, En dat men in den hof geen soeter vinden mag, Soo heeft hy daer geset. Hy geeft haer soete namen, Die uyt het innig merg van sijn gewrichten quamen, Hy neemt haer in den arm, hy set haer in het groen, Hy druckt haer aen den mont den alder-eersten soen. Daer ging de bruyloft aen, de jonge lieden paren, En werden weder een, die een te voren waren; En stracks so rees’er vreugt door al het naeste wout, Vermidts het eerste paer een derden mensche bout.794 [The sweet and beautiful couple, carried away in their conversation Walked slowly to this place, And when the young man saw the beautiful fields, And since there were none more beautiful in the garden, So he sat down there. He gave her sweet names, 111 Which came from the deepest marrow of his bones, He takes her in his arms, he puts her in the green, He presses the very first kiss on her mouth. There the wedding began, The young people mated, And became one again, as they were before; And immediately joy rose through the whole forest, Because the first couple builds a third human being]. After the marriage is consummated, when Eve has been slept on, all of Nature comes to pay them homage. Animals appear, flowers and herbs show themselves, songs resound, and the air is sweet. Eve is hailed as the Queen of animals while Adam is satisfied and very content. Joy, happiness, and sweet peace reign in this golden age when all of Nature’s creatures, in unison, are bound together by marriage. Lof zy den hoogsten God, die aen de werelt jont Een wonderbaar geschenck, het edel trou-verbont, Een haven voor de jeugt, de keest van alle saken, Bequaem om al het landt wel haest bewoont te maken. Lof zy den hoogsten God, ja lof, en eewig lof. En sie! dit bly gesang verheugt den ganschen hof, Verheugt het edel paer tot in haer diepste gronden, Vermidts sy Godes heyl in al den handel vonden. Die daer het blijdtste feest, dat in het aartsche dal Voor desen is geweest, of immer wesen sal. O God! ô hoogste goet! ô Vader aller volcken: Hoe groot is uwen naem! hoe boven alle wolcken! Hoe vreemt is uw bedrijf! hoe wonder uw beleydt! Hoe wijt aan alle kant op aarden uyt-gebreydt! (...) Uw lof zy hoog geroemt tot in der eeuwigheyt. [Praise be to the most high God, who grants to the world A wondrous gift, the noble covenant of marriage, A harbor for youth, the seed of all things, Fit to make all the land as good as inhabited. Praise be to the most high God, Yes praise, and everlasting praise. And behold, the whole garden rejoices in this joyful song, Rejoice the noble couple to her deepest grounds, For they have found God’s salvation in all their doings. Behold the happiest feast, which in the earthly valley For them has been, or always will be. O God, O greatest God, O Father of all people: 112 How great is thy name, above all the clouds! How strange is your enterprise! how wondrous your policy! How wide-spread to all sides of the earth! (…) Thy praise be highly celebrated for all eternity]. A Wedding will also be celebrated on the second stage – the heavenly Jerusalem. But now it is a spiritual union. The Bride (and by this Cats refers to all pure souls who have ever lived on earth) longs for the unification and prepares for the meeting with her Bridegroom who waits in the high places. The fruit of this spiritual unification is the reborn man.795 En waerom meer geseyt? De Schepper aller saken, Sal ons te sijner tijt den Hemel kondig maken, Sal door sijn hellen glans verklaren ons gesicht, En storten in de ziel een onbegrepen licht.( ...) Hoe snelt my nu de geest om Godt te mogen naken! Om Godt te mogen sien, en Godt te mogen smaken! O Godt gy zijt alleen de troost van mijn gemoet, Mijn hoop, mijn toeverlaat, mijn schat en hoogste goet, (...) Gunt my doch, lieve Godt, dat ick u mach genieten, Soo kan geen tegenspoet, geen pijne my verdrieten, Soo kan geen aertsche vreugt verrucken mijn gemoet, Om dat mijn innig hert van elders wort gevoet. (...) Wie is ‘t die sonder Godt oyt eenig ding ontfing? Geeft u aan my, ô Heer; en neemt my alle ding. (...) O gy, die mijn gemoet het willen hebt gegeven, Maakt dat ik tot de daat mag worden aan-gedreven, Mag worden opgebeurt, door uw verheven kracht, Waar op mijn innig merg met groot verlangen wacht. Komt gy als Bruydegom met onse zielen paren, En wilt daar uwe kracht en segen openbaren. Komt drukt ons in den geest dat reyn en Hemels beelt, Dat ons, na lange pijn, den nieuwe mensche teelt. Ontsluyt het innig merg van uwe beste schatten, Die noyt, na rechten eysch, ons aartsche sinnen vatten, Wort een met onse ziel, omhelst uw lieve Kerck, En opent uwe Bruyt dat hoogste wonder-werck, Den boesem uwer geest, en keest van alle saken, Die ons ellendig volck alleen kan salig maken, Die ons den geest verquickt, ons drenkt met reynen wijn, En schenkt ons ‘s Hemels vreugt daar wy op aarde zijn.796 113 [And why said more? All matters of the Creator, Will in due time announce Heaven, Will by its bright brilliance illuminate our understanding, And pour into our souls an incomprehensible light. ( ...) How now my spirit hastens to approach God! To be allowed to see God, and to experience God! O God alone you are the comfort of my mind, My hope, my refuge, my treasure and highest good, (...) Grant me, dear God, that I may receive thee, Then no misfortune, no pain can grieve me, Then no earthly joys can delight my soul, Because my inner heart is fed elsewhere. (...) Who is it that without God ever received any thing? Give yourself to me, O Lord; and take all things from me. (...) You, who have given my mind the will, Make that I may be driven to action, May be uplifted, by your exalted power, On which my innermost marrow waits with great longing. Come as Bridegroom to mate with our souls, And reveal therein thy power and blessing. Come and impress upon us that pure and heavenly image, Which, after long pain, grows us the new man. Unlock the innermost marrow of thy best treasures, Which never, according to right demand, shall grasp our earthly senses, Become one with our soul, embrace thy dear Church, And reveal to thy bride that supreme, wondrous work, The bosom of thy mind, and heart of all things, Who alone can save our wretched people, Who quickens our spirits, Who drinks us with pure wine, And gives us the celestial joy for which we are on earth]. The state of grace in which the first couple was in returns here, though under a different omen. Cats places the cause of the Fall after they have known each other as wife and husband, with which the mating itself is thus without sin.797 The guilt for the Fall affects not only Eve, Adam also shares in it.798 The Fall and thus the punishment of man and woman is only settled by the coming, suffering and dying of the Son of God.799 On youngest day Heaven and Earth are rearranged in their order. The earth and the sea go into turmoil. Graves open and give birth to rotting flesh or barren, pale bones (bp.3.24.3). Then Christ as Judge delivers the Last Judgment.800 The dead are reborn and the redeemed will live as Angels in heaven forever.801 The wretched flesh is freed from accident and guilt, sin and suffering, pain, old age and disease, to live forever in the glory of God.802 114 Komt denckt nu, lieve ziel, wat is het eeuwig leven, Dat Godt uyt enckel gunst sijn kinders heeft te geven? Wat is het bruilofts-feest, dat Godt heeft toe-geseyt, Dat Godt sijn weerde Bruyt voor eeuwig heeft bereyt? Het is een stage vreugt, een volheyt aller lusten, Het is een diep vermaack, daar in de zielen rusten, Het is een helder licht, een blijde sonne-schijn, Gesontheyt sonder leet, en blydschap sonder pijn, En leven sonder doodt, en heden sonder morgen, En eere sonder haat, en weelde sonder sorgen, En vreede sonder twist, en welstant sonder nijt, En liefde sonder vrees, en wesen sonder tijt. Het is een eeuwig feest, dat niemant kan beschrijven, Dat noyt een droef geval de vreugde kan verdrijven, Een onbegrepen heyl, daar in het ooge dwaalt, En dat in ‘s menschen hert noyt af en is gedaalt. Geluckig is de ziel die eenmaal sal genieten De beken van geluck, die in den Hemel vlieten, Geluckig is de mensch die van de doodt bevrijt, Sijn Godt en eeuwig heyl sal loven alle tijt. [Come think now, dear soul, what is eternal life, That God of mere favor hath given his children? What is the wedding feast, That God has promised, That God has prepared his worthy bride for ever? It is a lingering joy, a fullness of all pleasures, It is a deep delight, in which souls rest, It is a bright light, a cheerful sunshine, Enjoined without sorrow, And joy without pain, And life without death, and present without tomorrow, And honor without hate, and wealth without worry, And peace without strife, and prosperity without mischief, And love without fear and being without time. It is an eternal feast, that no one can describe, Where no sad thing can ever destroy the joy, An uncomprehend salvation, in which the eye wanders, And which never descended into the human heart. Happy is the soul that once shall enjoy The streams of happiness, which flow in Heaven, Happy is the man who is delivered from death, Will always praise his God and eternal salvation]. 115 Although Cats mentions with some regularity the possible disturbances which would prevent man from partaking in divine eternity, he does not conjure up a powerful counter image.803 Really frightening images of Hell or Purgatory, which with their leaking flames cast a shadow on earthly life, do not occur in his thinking (bp.3.25.1).804 If he mentions the horrific Hell at all, it is primarily as an indescribable location somewhere beyond the house.805 It is the place where monsters such as the evil woman and the surly man have their abode.806 This kind of depiction of hell and damnation can have its uses in keeping the mob in check, according to Cats.807 But it is wrong to frighten children by telling them about terrifying bogeymen and ghosts.808 The same goes for the more or less accidental ‘onwereldse’ [unworldly] and ‘ongoddelijke’ [ungodly] figures he mentions. He does refer to the devil, but this figure is as marginal as ‘spooksters’ [female ghosts] and sorceresses who sometimes appear in his work (bp.3.25.2).809 Cats does not speak of witches as far as I have been able to find out.810 Looking into a crystal ball, palm reading, explaining dreams or predicting the fate of a spinster: in his eyes all that is based on a misunderstanding and no more than that.811 He considers dreams to be nocturnal processing of what someone is thinking during the day.812 He rejects the use of magic potions and herbs for love-making and procreation not only because it is contrary to God’s reinforcement of the conjugal bond, but also because it sometimes acts as an abortifacient.813 But he does not take it seriously.814 In his view, it is mere error, a feverish dream or childish talk that can be disproved by reason.815 Instead of hell and damnation, a heavy-handed doctrine of predestination, or a deep sense of sin, Jacob Cats puts the contemplation of earthly existence first (bp. 26.1-3). He contrasts the kingdom of God, evoked by paradisiacal and heavenly visions, with earthly life. From on high God the Father looks down on earthly life in the depths.816 The antithesis is not hell but the earthly valley of woe, the miserable fate that may await man in his worldly existence. Although the dawn sometimes colors this earthly life rosy, the black night prevails. Cold rain, snow and hail descend from the clouds, vapors, and inclement winds plague nature, while branched lightning bolts briefly set the sky ablaze.817 Many misfortunes and calamities life has in store for man. Sickness and grief, hunger and distress, death and destruction accompany man and fellow man during life on earth (bp. 3.27.1-6). At this point Cats recognizes that married life, even when spouses do their utmost, does not always lead to divine fulfillment. If one of them is raw and stubborn, if you meet a partner who doesn’t want to be good and won’t let himself be improved, then you have to endure this and draw spiritual strength from it.818 If the other half does not want to bend, then all the effort has been for nothing and there is little hope for the couple and the household enterprise.819 The only thing the husband can do with a disobedient wife is to endure her.820 The only thing left 116 for a wife, when her husband neglects his conjugal duty, is to suffer her fate with patience.821 Cats advises to endure major and minor inconveniences in life.822 The only hope the human being has left in that case is to find comfort in God the Father. To Him one must submit. This means that all worldly unhappiness, sorrow, and sadness, are actually for the benefit of man and woman as a Christian. In humility, humbleness, and submission, in subordination to a grievous fate, to the heavy burden to be borne and the hard slavery under which one is afflicted, in the surrender to the inevitable, the Christian man frees the soul of its blemishes and sins.823 In this sense, the suffering inflicted on man in life is a meaningful and divine gift. Suffering cleanses the soul and strengthens man. Thus, while describing, Cats calls to mind several landscapes characterized by extreme differences in height. The true Christian heart climbs upward, rises higher than the moon, up to Heaven. In the depths the pure soul perceives a distant world, a place where the people struggle through life with their gaze downward. The human being with a pure soul, on the other hand, directs the gaze upward. Ascending, the earth becomes smaller as the soul soars higher. Elevating itself, detaching itself from the earthly body, climbing up, higher and higher, the soul comes nearer to the Creator.824 All grievance and all filth are then forever put out of action. The pure soul has surrendered itself to God. High above the lands, the soul soars free from everything (bp.3.24.1-2).825 Wie sal mijn vluchtig hert verheffen in de locht, Op dat ick heden noch den hemel raken mogt? Ick scheyde van het vleesch, en dese swacke leden; Ick klimme tot het huys van alle eeuwigheden, Ick reycke naer het licht en naer den hellen dagh, Daer noyt de bleecke doot haer pylen schieten magh: Ick vliege buyten my, ick vliege van der aarden, Ick styge naer de locht met ongetoomde paarden, Ick sie beneden my, wat al de werelt doet, Ick sie hoe dat het volck hier in de aarde wroet, Ick sie de nieuwe Stad en hare poorten blincken, Ick hoore door de lucht de reyne stemmen klincken, Ick sie een klare beeck, een krystallynen stroom, Ick sie het eeuwig loof, den waren Levens-boom, Ick hoor’ een groote schaar des Heeren daden singen, Waar henen mijn vernuft! ô wonder soete dingen! Ick sie het reyne Lam, en sijn Geminde staen, O mogt ick, lieve Godt, ô mogt ick vorder gaen! Mijn siel is Noachs duyf, die niet en weet te rusten, Die noyt en heeft de magt te setten hare lusten Tot datse wederkeert, van daerse voortijds quam, Van daerse was gereyst en haer beginsel nam.826 117 [Who will lift my fleeting heart into the air, That I may yet touch heaven? I part from the flesh, and these weak members; I climb up to the house of all eternity, I travel to the light and to the bright day, Where never the pale death may shoot her arrows; I fly beyond myself, I fly away from the earth, I rise to the sky with untamed horses, I see below me what the whole world is doing, I see the people here rooting in the earth, I see the new Town and its shining gates, I hear the pure voices through the air, I see a clear creek, a crystalline stream, I see the everlasting foliage, the Tree of Life, I hear a great multitude sing of the Lord’s deeds, Where do I go my mind, ô wonder sweet things! I see the pure Lamb, and His Beloved standing, O may I dear God, ô may I go on! My soul is Noah’s dove, which shall not rest, Which never has the power to determine the lust Till she returneth, to whence she came, From where her journey began, and she had her roots]. Twice, in the form of a wedding feast, Cats outlines a spiritual exercise that focuses on a certain detachment. He contrasts earthly worries, sadness and sorrow, vanity and temptation, attraction and lust with patience and humility, acceptance of fate and the fear of God.827 Spiritual power increases the deeper one knows how to bend. Thus, in the Houwelick, a Christian universe emerges in which the practice of humility and suffering is also considered the highest good. The greater one’s humility, the greater the spiritual freedom one acquires.828 Compared to earthly existence, where status and authority are enforced through physical supremacy and outward displays of power, in the Christian universe the opposite values apply.829 All spiritual effort is directed toward submitting to events beyond one’s own power, settling and bowing one’s head. Cats sees every setback in life as a preparation for the eventual parting of all that one loves in life. The art of dying, then, is a steady exercise that everyone should practice from an early age (bp. 3.27.1-3).830 Only with mortality in mind does one know how to live.831 Only thus can one prepare oneself for the moment when death knocks at the door, to depart.832 Only a practiced mind knows that during life it has already detached itself, disengaged from domestic concerns and in wisdom stripped of earthly ties.833 So why so sigh for the ‘ellendigh’ [miserable] and ‘ongevalligh 118 lijf’ [unfortunate body], of which it is certain that one will have to leave behind, Cats asks the reader (bp.3.27.4-6, bp.3.42.2).834 While youth is hard to bring to these spiritual contemplations, for old age they are a weighty task. The couple in their old age, therefore, advises Cats to replace the physical union with a spiritual one, in which the spouses devote themselves to the soul, to prepare themselves for the transition to the next life.835 In his view, old age opens the straight path to virtue.836 For the elderly housewife – when ‘de moeder zich sluit’ [the mother is closing, not being able anymore to procreate] – spiritual contemplation becomes a day’s work. All the burdens of giving birth, caring for sick children, and running the household enterprise are behind her. A new time is dawning for her in which she may give herself over to contemplation. For time flies and before one knows it one stands with an untrained soul before the gaping grave.837 During their marriage, the spouses support in two ways the spiritual universe that Jacob Cats thus provides. On the one hand through their spiritual submission to God’s Creation and on the other hand in their conjugal meeting. In this way they give the Christian universe a place in the house by founding a ‘huiselijke kerk’ [domestic church].838 An idea that was already formulated by the Reformers (such as Luther’s ‘religio domestica’). Reading, contemplating, and becoming partakers of God’s Creation can therefore take place in two ways. First, there is the Book of Nature; second, there is the Bible.839 In the world, Cats says, the spiritual exercises are there for the taking.840 In fish and birds, in trees and herbs, God is everywhere. All of Creation offers itself for teaching. Nature is an open book, in which everything God has in mind for mankind can be seen (bp. 3.28.1-3).841 De werelt is een groot tooneel, Daer alle ding, en ieder deel, Ons dienen moet tot goede leer, Ten prijse van den Opper-heer. Siet al dat aen de rotsen groeit, Siet al wat op de velden bloeyt, Siet al wat in het water is, Tot aen het alderminste lis, Siet alle ding met rijpen sin, Daer schuylt voor ons een segen in, En hierom wensch ick alle daeg, Dat ick ter werelt niet en saeg, Noch boom, nog bloem, nog eenig ding, Of dat het my ter herten ging. Ick wensche dat’er niet een bies 119 Ontrent de schrale duynen wies, En dat’er niet een kleyne mier, En dat’er niet een naeckte pier Op al de nutte landen kroop, En voetsel uyt der aerden soop, Of dat ick die, naer rechten eys, Ontleden mocht in mijn gepeys, En vinden daer het vol bescheyt, Dat ons tot God den Schepper leyt. ‘De vissen swemmen in den stroom, ‘De vogels springen op den boom, ‘De beesten liggen op het kruyt, ‘Maer niemant treckt’er leering uyt, ‘Sy vullen maer alleen den buyck, ‘En vorder is’er geen gebruyck: ‘De mensche moet al hooger gaen, ‘Wanneer hy siet de boomen staen, ‘Wanneer hy op de kruyden treet, ‘Of vruchten van den acker eet, ‘Wanneer hy alderhande vee ‘Siet trecken uyt de woeste zee. ‘Of gaet’er hem niet in de geest, ‘Soo leeft hy schier gelijck een beest.842 [The world is a giant stage, Where all things, and every part, Must serve us for good lessons, To praise the Supreme Lord. See all that grows on the rocks, See all that blooms in the fields, See all that is in the water, To the very smallest grass, See all things with ripe sense, Therein lies for us a blessing, And therefore I wish every day, That I saw in the world, Not a tree, not a flower, not a thing, Or it would be in my heart. I wish there was no rush Growing in the sand dunes And that there was not a little ant, And not a naked pier 120 Crawled on the useful lands, And seeped food from the earth, Or that I might, according to right demand, Dissect it in my mind, And find there the full judgment, Which leads us to God the Creator. ‘The fish swim in the stream, ‘The birds leap upon the tree, ‘The beasts lie on the herb, ‘But no one learns, ‘They only fill the belly, ‘And there is no other use. ‘Man must go higher, ‘When he sees the trees, ‘When he walks on the grass, ‘Or eats fruit from the field, ‘When he sees cattle of all kinds ‘Departing from the raging sea. If he does nothing with it in his mind, ‘Then he lives almost like a beast]. How Cats interprets an everyday event (even when it is an example) is shown in his description of a spectacle in a pharmacy which he witnesses, along with children, burghers, and country folk. They see a frog, locked in a glass bottle, being attacked by a troop of leeches.843 They root around him and hang from his neck, feet, belly, head, back, throat, chest, and loins. The frog dives, rises, floats and recoils in the mud. No matter how he tries to escape, nothing helps. While looking at it, Cats sees a similarity with a bad marriage in which the spouses are on each other’s backs, corner each other and from which escape is impossible.844 Those who marvel at God’s work and immerse themselves in ordinary things climb steadily and come closer to Him, Cats argues.845 The second way to partake of God’s Creation is through spiritual instruction: reading and contemplating God’s Word. The household should immerse itself daily in God’s works by reading the Bible.846 At both dawn and dusk, the master of the house should read a portion. In addition to reading aloud, the parents must question the members of the household about the passages read, so that what is read may be imprinted. ‘Leest staegh, en met bescheyt, leest wijf en sedigh man, Hier is dat uwen geest tot Gode leyden kan’ [Read steadily, and with judgment, Read wives and modest men, Here is that thy mind may lead unto God].847 On Sundays and in the case of special Christian holidays, Cats says it is appropriate – as with the Sabbath – to make a double offering by doubling the size of the 121 portion read.848 In this way, one can work through the Holy Scriptures completely in one year. And finally, communal prayer before meals and conjugal prayer before bedtime are part of domestic worship.849 In the absence of her husband, Bible reading, and prayer are the job of the mistress of the house. Gy, in het onderwint van uwen man getreden, Gaet knielt met u gesin, en oeffent huys-gebeden; Gy moet in dit geval ten vollen onderstaen, Al wat u weerde man voor desen heeft gedaen. (...) Soo stelt u gansch gesin ootmoedigh voor den Heer, En doet het alle daegh, en laet’et nimmermeer. (...) Alleen het reyn gebed in Christi naem geseyt, Dat suyvert u bedrijf, en heylight u beleyt. [When thou, in thy husband's reign, hast entered, Go and kneel with your family, and practice house prayers; You must inquire fully in this case, All that thy worthy husband hath done before. (...) So humbly place your whole family before the Lord, And do it daily, and never skip it. Only the pure prayer said in the name of Christ, That purifies your business, And sanctifies your leadership]. When the children and servants are in bed, one prays a heartfelt house prayer just before going to sleep.850 One submits the past day to an examination of one’s mind, and this before God, because He sees everything one does or leaves.851 One enters one’s heart and asks oneself in all sincerity if one has done the right thing.852 Whether one has been patient with one’s spouse, with one’s children, with one’s servants, and whether one has contributed to the peace and quiet of the house.853 For Cats, however, the domestic church is not limited to these spiritual exercises. It rests just as much on the conjugal gathering. In the man’s craving for the woman and the woman’s desire for the man, and thus her longing for a child, Cats sees a sign of the divine ratio in the procreation.854 As the gift of God, human beings come closest to their Creator in the creation of a child.855 In consummating the marriage, provided it is not too lavish, the couple fulfills their divine duty to continue the natural order.856 They do so by becoming one body but also by becoming parents of offspring.857 For this reason Jacob Cats calls the marital bed the temple of fidelity. ‘Het bed is overal een haven van de rust, Hier dient al wat’er brant te worden uytgeblust: Sich in het sachte dons tot twisten af te wenden, Dat is de weerde Trou in haren tempel schenden’ [The bed is everywhere a haven of peace, Here all that burns must be quenched: in the soft down one must turn away from strife, For that would violate the worthy Faithfulness in this 122 temple].858 Elsewhere, Cats speaks of the marriage bed as a sanctuary, that is, a place secluded from what is happening elsewhere in the world. It is the place where a direct connection is made with the future and where divine providence is fulfilled. The chamber laws, the laws of the bed, demand that body and soul work together. In one movement, the couple thus becomes partakers of the eternal kingdom of God and eternal progress is guaranteed.859 Thus, Cats conceives of marriage as the consummation of the spiritual universe. He underscores this again in parables of the most exalted and pure marriages. The first marriage of Adam and Eve and the last marriage when God takes all pure souls to Himself at the Resurrection.860 Yet there is a final marriage that serves the couple as a mirror: the Holy Family described in Scripture. Cats deals sporadically with the Holy Trinity (God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit). He also – in contrast to the Modern Devotion, for example – hardly mentions the human aspect of Christ.861 In his Houwelick, he presents God primarily as the almighty creator of Nature, as the all-seeing eye and as a comforting Father. In other works, too, God dominates as a fatherly figure and Christ occupies a less pronounced position. At the Last Judgment, Christ does serve as the Supreme Judge, but Cats presents the Son primarily as the child who came forth from the miraculous divine conception of Mary.862 He does, however, bring up several times the immaculate conception of the Virgin and her transformation into Mother. He praises the miracle that has occurred (bp.3.29.1).863 Al wat eens wonder scheen, en is geen wonder meer, Een mensch baart haren Godt, een maget haren Heer. O groot en diep geheym! ô noyt begrepe saken! Die geen vernuftig breyn door reden kan genaken. Men spreeckt als door een wolk, men spreeck’er duyster van, Vermits geen menschen hert de gronden peylen kan. Kom siet dit wonder stuck, al die op aarde leven, Al die met reynen geest tot Gode wort gedreven: Kom siet dit wonder aan, en dat met rijpen sin, Kom siet, het minste deel dat heeft een wonder in. Een maagt die vruchtbaar is, een moeder noyt beslapen, Een maagt, die moeder is van die haar heeft geschapen. Een kint, wiens hooge macht tot aan den Hemel raakt, En dat oock even-selfs sijn moeder heeft gemaakt. Een moeder, die haar kint heeft dikmaal aan-gebeden, Eer sy het oyt ontfing in hare teere leden; Een kint, dat grooter is als oyt de grootste man Te voren is geweest, of immer wesen kan. Kom siet de maget aan, die nu sal moeder hieten, 123 Om dat uyt haren schoot des Hemels schatten vlieten, Komt siet de moeder aan en wat haar is geschiet; De vrucht by haar gebaart, en let haar maegdom niet. O moeder weest gegroet. Door u is ons geboren Hy die voor alle tijt voor Heylant is gekoren, Voor Heylant is verwacht. O noyt bevleckte maagt, Die Gode swanger zijt, en sonder schande draagt. ‘t Is vry een wonder stuck, en boven alle reden, Dat gy had binnen u des Heeren teere leeden; (...) O moeder weest verblijt, uw vrucht sal nimmer sterven, Uw vrucht sal aan het volk het eeuwig heyl verwerven, En Godt een offer zijn. O Moeder weest gegroet, Die wat ons voeden kan aan uwen boesem voet. [All that once seemed a miracle, and is no longer a miracle, A man gives birth to her God, a virgin to her Lord. O great and deep secret, ô never understood matters! Which no clever brain can approach with its mind. One speaks as through a cloud, One speaks darkly of it, Because no human heart can fathom the grounds. Come see this wonderful work of all who live on earth, All who are driven to God with a pure spirit: Come see this miracle, and that with ripe sense, Come see, the least part that has a wonder in it. A virgin that is fruitful, a mother never slept on by a man, A virgin who is mother to the one who created her. A child whose high power touches Heaven, And who even made his mother. A mother, who has often adored her child, Before she received it in her tender members; A child, who is greater than any man Has ever been or ever can be. Come see the virgin, who shall now be called mother, That from her womb may spring the treasures of Heaven, Come see the mother and what is done to her; The fruit she bore and did no harm to her virginity. O mother be praised. Through thee we are born He who for ever is chosen Savior, As Savior is expected. O never blemished virgin, Who of God hath conceived and carried without shame. Surely a wondrous piece, and beyond all understanding, That thou hadst within thee the tender members of the Lord; (…) 124 O mother be joyful, thy fruit shall never die, Thy fruit shall obtain eternal salvation for men, And be an offering to God. O Mother, Hail, Who can feed us, you feed on thy bosom]. In the Bible, the heavenly and earthly worlds are addressed in separate gospels. Mary is addressed on her heavenly duty to receive the Son of God and Joseph on his earthly duty to keep her company.864 Cats brings both stories together in one scene. In doing so, he emphasizes, on the one hand, Mary’s special place as a vertical link between the two worlds. God the Father forms with her, through the Son whom she received in such a miraculous way, an all-transcending Holy Family.865 At the same time, Cats emphasizes with this story that every earthly marriage is the counterpart of this Holy Family. Every house, no matter how small, is therefore a spiritual location. ‘‘t Is maar een slegte stal, daar in hy was geboren, Die plaats was even-wel van hooger hant gekoren. Daar was een nieuwe Ster, om sijnent wil gemaakt, Die met een rijcken glans, het schamel huys genaakt’ [It is but a humble stable, wherein he was born, That place, however, was chosen of a higher hand. There was a new Star, made because of His will, Which, with a rich radiance, touches the meager house].866 Mary is the earthly mother of the child Jesus, whereby Joseph is explicitly urged to take care of the expectant mother as a husband and to share his life with mother and son.867 The physical birth resulting from a mystical gathering (the whispering of the Word by the archangel Gabriel) Cats sees repeated in the miracle of God of conjugal reproduction.868 In this way, an earthly mother – despite physical union with her husband and the birth of her child – can still remain a virgin.869 In this way, Jacob Cats describes the house as a spiritual domain.870 The master and mistress of the house are above all a Christian householder and a Christian housewife (bp.3.29.2).871 In contrast to the Jewish tradition, where the spiritual emphasis is on ‘doing good deeds and obedience to the law,’ and thus on the earthly life rather than the hereafter, Cats adds just that last dimension to life in the house.872 Unlike Reformed authors such as Wittewrongel or Perkins, however, for Cats this does not mean that the domestic enterprise becomes an instrument for spreading the Christian religion. On the contrary, by redeeming their natural affection for the other, by living together, setting up their household enterprise and procreating, the Christian householder and housewife fulfill their natural destiny, their burgher and divine duty as a married couple.873 One does not marry for the sake of oneself, not even for the sake of each other. In marrying one also fulfills a higher, divine duty. In the wise fulfillment of the honorary dignity of marriage in the house lies the hope of eternity, the stratification of which Cats himself indicates as follows: 125 Den mensche selfs aenmercken wy driesins; Eerstelijck, voor soo veel den selven is een redelijck dier, in sich hebbende een aengeboren genegentheyt, tot verbreydinge ende uitsettinge sijnes aerts, gestadelijk hellende tot de gewenschte vereeninge met de gene sonder de welcke de heymenisse der voortteelinge niet en word uytgevoert (...). Ten twede, sien wy den mensche aen voor soo veel hy een gesellig dier is, ende in ‘t burgerlijk leven sonderlinge met andere menschen in heusheyt ende vriendelijckheyt ommegaet, na ‘t recht aller volcken (...). Ten derden, beschouwen wy den mensche voor soo veel hy door een sonderlinge genade Godts afgesondert van den gemeenen hoop ende loop des werelts, in Jesu Christo door de werkinge des H. Geest, by middel des geloofs voor een kind Godts is aengenomen (...). Ende alsoo een yder van ons dese drievoudige genegentheden in sich bespeurt, soo poogen wy dit tegenwoordig boeksken daer toe te doen strecken, dat wy in den natuurlijken mensche matelijk, in den burgerlijken mensche rechtveerdiglijk, in den Christelijken mensche godsaliglijk met den Apostel mochten leven. 874 [Human beings we see as threefold: First, insofar as man is a reasonable animal, possessing in him an innate affection, for propagation and furnishing of his nature, steadily tending toward the desired union with the one without which the secret of procreation cannot be carried out (...). Secondly, we regard man in so far as he is a sociable, agreeable animal, and in burgher life in particular treats other people well-mannered and friendly, as he should in all nations (...). Thirdly, we consider man insofar as he is by a special grace of God set apart from the general multitude and circulation of the world, in Jesu Christo by the working of the Holy Spirit, received by faith into a child of God (...). And because every one of us detects these threefold affections in himself, we endeavor to have this little book arranged today so that we may live in moderation in the natural man, in righteousness in the burgher man, and in godliness in the Christian man with the Apostle]. 126 3.2.1. The House as Matter of Marital Honor In the preceding four paragraphs, my analysis of the Houwelick took two paths. First, in a similar way to Stevin, I set apart some layers of signification and followed them in their own systematics. In this way, many scattered items turned out to be akin to each other. Instead of a loose collection of exempla, conceptions, and similarities that Cats successively connects in a somewhat arbitrary manner, at least four different embeddings form in his work, seeking their own meandering path through the whole. Cats’ views on the domestic economy, on the cosmic duality of all creatures, on the ruling of the passions and on the spiritual domain form separate lines that he forges in his work into a tight narrative whole. Secondly, based on no more than a handful of references to Erasmus, Vives, and Wittewrongel and based on the compendia he used, I have shown that Cats is working material that others in the early modern time are also working on. Many of the examples, themes, views, and burning issues that Cats deals with enjoy wide recognition during the Middle Ages and are the subject of discussion in the broad European field between 1400 and 1700. Unlike Stevin and the tradition of architectural thinking, which is a rather defined field, Cats moves in a domain that is much broader. Moreover, the writings related to the house and marital affairs are more differentiated in form and spread across multiple disciplines.875 The problem of the civilizing effect of Jacob Cats’ work in the Dutch seventeenth century, or the working through of old-fashioned patriarchal ideas, is one I have tried to avoid so far. Not that there is no correctness in these interpretations, but they are too partial and often colored from a modern perspective.876 And also in this second part I do not pretend to answer this question unambiguously. Answering it presupposes an extensive comparative study of the corpus of European writings that does not exist at present. Moreover, and this weighs more heavily for me, I believe that the question posed in this way is too unsubtle and therefore of little use. Instead, I shall – in a similar way as in the previous chapter on Simon Stevin – shift the attention to the coherence between the layers of signification. This is again done without opting for a comfortable overview from above, which quickly hides the unevenness from view. Only in the proximity of the primary texts can it be seen how from a variety of disparate elements, incongruities and contradictions signifying narratives are formed time and again. In this second part, the focus is on broadening. A third dimension is added to Cats’ horizontal and vertical pattern of domestic life. With this third dimension, I aim to establish the place of Cats’ household enterprise in relation to early modern culture. I will explore the connection in this second part along three lines. First, I broaden the question of the place of the house by drawing attention to its concrete boundaries and the way the place outside it (the ‘public domain’) is described by Cats (3.2.1.). This can only be traced by renouncing standardized positions such 127 as public/private, power/subordination, man/woman, culture/nature, and the associated modern Western value judgements.877 Rather than nuance and refine this pattern, the Houwelick compels us (especially when we compare the work to similar writings in early modern Europe) to see that every culture has a layered character. As a result, meanings can never be reduced to the play of a single opposition. Jacob Cats sees the married couple as a bundle of natural sources of power that can be activated, the ‘private sphere’ he considers a domain where public codes of conduct are valid, and the household enterprise he conceives of as a matter to which honor can be gained. Second, I will compare Cats’ work with four similar writings: Le Ménagier de Paris (1393), the writings by Leon Battista Alberti (1434-1443), by William Perkins (1590), and by Fray Luis de León (1583).878 These works constitute four early modern variations on the theme of ‘house and marriage’ as manifested in Europe, and these works are cited with some regularity in the secondary literature.879 Given the size of these writings, I will limit myself to a treatment of the coherence that emerges in the various perspectives. It is not the individual fragments that are significant, for the writings have many fragments in common. What matters is the combination that authors make with other themes. Not only their choice, but especially the arrangement of aspects provides different emphases, without the authors stepping outside the early modern paradigm. The why of a cultural formation is to be found in this concrete arrangement of collective elements, as well as the significations generated by them. Viewed in this way, these four writings constitute variants that share the same conceptual domain or field of knowing, but which differ because of the regional environment in which they were developed. The domain as such could be described as the art of living well (ars bene vivendi). This domain is broader than the individual traditions brought to light by historiography. For example, the humanist matrimonial tradition, ‘de strijd om de broek’ [the battle between the sexes] as a thematic reversal of it, the Italian-French literary tradition of the ‘vrouwenlof’ [Praising Women], the aristocratic tracts for courtly manners, the English tradition of the ‘domestic conduct books’ or the German ‘Hausväterliteratur’. The field is also more multiple and has several layers with their own origins. In addition, the layers can be piled up even more differently from a European point of view. The conceptual vegetation that is evolving on it, its distribution, density and the quality of its manifestations can only be studied by microanalyses. However, the work of authors such as Hoffmann, Kelso, and Maclean, who have examined one or more discourses on the art of living in detail, does reveal the picture of a mixed but cohesive landscape. From that landscape, I select only four well-known writings. The choice, incidentally, is not entirely random: they stand out because of their religious, geographical, and temporal distribution. By making a comparison (3.2.2.), I hope it will become clear with what interventions Cats continues this 128 early modern thinking about the house and marriage, but at the same time complicates and transforms it. Thirdly, Cats’ work itself brings a final depth to the story: in 3.2.3. I therefore turn my attention to the poetic and visual structuring of the Houwelick. Unlike most tracts on the art of living, Cats deploys secret rhetorical weapons by enticing the reader into a mental trek through his work. Unaware of the strict rules of rhyme and rhythm, repetition and inversion, fact and fiction, images and words, the reader allows himself to be taken in tow by a writer who skillfully handles these rules of the art of persuasion. In many ways, the textual agility that Jacob Cats organizes in this way is responsible for his work remaining readable for centuries. The work of early modern women authors, such as Christine de Pisan and Anna Maria van Schurman, has come under greater scrutiny in the last fifteen years.880 This shows that even in the past there were learned women and poets who opposed men’s ideas of their supposed subordination and stood up for the interests of the female sex. For example, De Pisan opposed the nonsensical idea that women want to be raped while Van Schurman defended the right of women to devote themselves to study. However, the terms with which they defended their cause differed from our modern vocabulary. Instead of interests, equal treatment, rights, and sex discrimination, De Pisan and Van Schurman speak of praise, honor, shame, dignity, and appropriateness. Moreover, in addition to rape and scholarship, they make statements about the house, the work to be done there, the female nature, and the status of the housewife.881 ‘En U, dames, die gehuwd zijt, ergert U zich niet aan het feit, dat U zo onderworpen bent aan Uw echtgenoten, want soms is het voor een vrouw niet het beste om vrij te zijn. ... De vrouwen, die vreedzame, goede en bescheiden echtgenoten hebben, die een grote liefde voor hen voelen, prijzen God voor dit voorrecht, dat niet gering is, want er zou hen geen groter goed op de wereld gegeven kunnen worden. Laten zij hen zorgvuldig verzorgen, van hen houden en hen koesteren met een trouw hart, zoals het moet, hun vrede bewarend en God biddend, dat Hij hen moge leiden en verlossen’ [And you, ladies, who are married, do not be annoyed at being so subject to your husbands, for sometimes it is not best for a woman to be free. ... The women, who have peaceful, good and modest husbands, who feel a great love for them, praise God for this privilege, which is not small, for no greater good could be given them in the world. Let them care for their husbands gently, love them and cherish them with a faithful heart, as they should, keeping their peace and praying to God that He may guide and deliver them], De Pisan said.882 Remarkably, Cats, Le Ménagier de Paris, Alberti, Fray de León, and Perkins use the same terminology of ‘honor and shame’ with respect to marriage. From this it is clear that one cannot separate the arguments of De Pisan or Van 129 Schurman from their context at the time. They are part of a larger conceptual universe. Now, in the last decade, there has been a lot of research on honor and shame in early modern European cultures. Not only for Italy, but also for the Republic. Not only with regard to aristocratic codes, but also with regard to the codes of the common people. The most well-known is aristocratic honor: in this, a person’s reputation virtually coincides with the prestige of the family and the name of the lineage.883 But in fact ‘honor’ is a very broad phenomenon that is linked to a collective culture along many lines. What one understands by honor, how one comes into possession of honor, how one can defend, lose, and possibly regain it, how this concept divides the sexes, all this depends on the dominant culture in which honor is articulated. For example, for the ‘theatrical culture’ of early modern Italy, a man’s personal honor manifests itself in the employment of visible opulence, the display of bravery, or in the use of violence to restore male honor.884 Respectable Mediterranean behavior of women, on the other hand, is characterized by invisibility as a sign of their shameful attitude to life. Such characteristics do not easily blend with the honorable and dignified well-living that Jacob Cats envisions in the Dutch house. On the other hand, the notion of honor used by Cats, De Pisan, and Van Schurman with respect to the house also does not seem to fit well with the results of recent historical research on the ‘burgerlijk eerbegrip’ [bourgeois notion of honor] in the Dutch seventeenth century. I will mention three difficulties. The first is related to the sources that historians such as Roodenburg, Leuker, Van de Pol, Schama and Grijp have used. Comedies, farces, mock songs, fictional trouwgevallen’ [wedding cases] (such as Cats’ Liefdes-Vossevel’), judicial confession books, or other legal sources primarily describe offensive behavior in public. Streets, markets, stores, alleys, bridges or domestic thresholds form the urban stage where people meet each other and where ‘eerhandel’ [honorable conduct] takes place and is articulated.885 Secondly, these studies mainly concern the ‘negative’ sides of the honor culture, such as the violated honor, its regulation and possible recovery. Gossip, mockery, rumors and backbiting, loss of reputation and especially the lost (sexual) honor in men (‘hoorndrager’ [horn-bearer]) and women (loss of ‘maagdelijkheid’ [virginity]) have been examined. The third difficulty concerns the characters who play the leading role in these sources: gossiping neighbors, low people, prostitutes, fallen spinsters, cunning young men, widows who have been slept on, and adulterous women are passing. In these sources, insults and libel, scorn and slander, curses, jeers, ridicule, and quarrels set the turbulent tone of public life in the seventeenth-century Dutch town. The house functions only as a backdrop to the urban scene or is reduced to an architectural element. The ‘door’ is primarily a place where people come together to denounce someone for defamation while shouting, banging, and kicking.886 The ‘window’ 130 serves primarily as a place from which the person being insulted looks out. The domain of the house itself remains untouched: it does not seem to be part of the public order. In the Houwelick, Cats partially confirms this picture of public life. There are many dangers lurking in the town that can damage a name and ruin a reputation. Someone can be backbited or chewed out [‘over de tong gaan’], point the finger at someone [‘met de vinger nagewezen worden’], have one's eye followed [‘met het oog gevolgd worden’], made fun of [‘begekt’], mocked [‘bedot’], polluted [‘bestruift’] and jeered [‘beschimpt’]. Dishonor, bad rumor, hatred, envy, and backbiting [‘achterklap’] mark life on the street up to the threshold of the house.887 In his ‘Liefdes-Vossevel’ Cats writes extensively about the course of a unneighborly quarrel following the case of a young widow Alette who seems to have been slept on by a suitor Faes (bp.3.30.1-2).888 The libel spreads like wildfire among the people, a mockery song is rhymed, printed and sung. Noise, clamor and gathering are the forms in which public accusation manifests itself. As Grijp notes, Cats describes here a ‘collective rebuke, a form of charivari’.889 Not much seems to be done against this either: calling in the authorities, trying to exonerate oneself in court leads mainly to further damage to the injured name. The register of honor has only two options. Either one avoids being discredited, or one publicly undoes the affront to one’s honor. In Cats’ tale of the ‘beslapen’ [slept on] widow, her marriage to the suitor forms the solution and her honor is saved. And both spouses, until death separated them, lived ‘happily ever after’ (bp. 3.30.3-4).890 However, the most interesting thing about Cats’ ‘Liefdes-Vossevel’ is that he establishes a connection between public life, honor, house and marital status. A connection that is more prominent in the Houwelick. Three elements stand out here. First, the honor of the young rich widow is not so much violated by a new suitor, but by her deceased husband. In her dream she is besieged by his appearance. Like a ghost, he violates her honor by continuing to demand marital fidelity from beyond death.891 Second, the agony of an honor being mocked by the people is nothing compared to the possible encroachment on an honorable married life. Cats inserts a frame story for illustration in which a beautiful young spinster (Phebe) is ‘saved’ by her admirer (Remy) from a dishonorable marriage to a cruel widower (Floor) by disfiguring her face.892 In a letter to Phebe, Remy writes that the minor injury done to her was meant to save her from lifelong misfortune: Voor my, mach ick een reys een jonge vrouw belesen, Ick sal hier anders gaan, ‘k en wil geen meester wesen, Als slechts in mans bedrijf, wat huys en keucken raackt, Dat komt de vrouwe toe, sy dient’er voogt gemaackt. Floor is een al-beschick, Floor is een groote krijter, 131 Floor is een keucken-voogt, Floor is een vrouwe-smijter, Floor is een teureleur, een dein, een lanterfant, En even boven dat een rechten dwingelant. Had ick u niet verlost, gy sout onguere slagen, En schande voor het volck, en schaamte moeten dragen; Sijn ongeluckig wijf heeft teyckens over-al, Men leest in haar gelaat het droevig ongeval.893 [For me, if I may once charm a young woman, I’ll do it differently here, I don't want to be a master, Except in the man’s business; that which touches house and kitchen, That comes to the woman, she must be made a guardian there. Floor arranges everything, Floor is a big shouter, Floor is a kitchen guardian, Floor is a wife-beater, Floor is a redshank, a fallow deer, a loafer, And a real bully, too. Had I not redeemed thee, thou wouldst bear nasty blows, And have to bear the people’s scandal and shame; An unhappy woman has marks everywhere, One reads in her face the sad accident]. Third, Jacob Cats considers the honorable life in the house a public affair too. Before Alette agrees to a marriage, she demands that Faes clears her of all blame in public, in front of the neighbors.894 Only when she is restored to her former glory as a married woman can an honorable marriage be initiated, and a good household enterprise grounded.895 As a brand-new husband, Faes holds out the prospect of a good marriage to his wife: Vriendinne (was het woort) wy sullen vrolijck leven, Wy sullen aan de sorg geen tijt of plaatse geven: Wy sullen met vermaack verslijten onse jeugt, En u en sal geen nacht ontglippen sonder vreugt; Wy sullen evenstaag, gelijck gepaarde schapen, Te samen wacker zijn, te samen weder slapen; Gy hebt geen huys of hoof geen ruyn of lustig dal, Dat van ons soet bedrijf geen teycken dragen sal; [Friend (was the word) wy shall live merrily, We shall give to anxiety no time or place: We shall spend our youth with pleasure , And no night shall pass without joy We shall be unbroken, like paired sheep, Awake together, asleep together; 132 Thou hast no house nor garden nor broad nor lovely valley, That shall not be a sign of our sweet enterprise;]. To which the young widow agrees and replies to her husband: Ick ben uw echte wijf en waarom meer geseyt, Al wat my dierbaar is, dat is voor u bereyt. Ick sie gy zijt bequaam tot alderhande saken, En ick heb groot beslag dat effen is te maken, Doet slegts dat u betaamt, en dat voor my alleen; En wat ick oyt besat dat maack ick u gemeen. [I am your true wife and why said more, All that is dear to me is yours. I see that you are skilled in all kinds of affairs, And I have many necessities that are fair to share, You do only what is rightfully yours, and that for my sake alone; And what I once possessed shall be shared for our sakes]. In the Houwelick, notions of ‘lof’ [praise], ‘eer’ [honor], ‘eerlick’ [honest] and ‘schaemte’ [shame] are further elaborated in relation to being married. Whether it is love and conjugal relations, the running of the household enterprise, the management of the passions, or about spiritual exaltation, in each case Cats’ utterances attest to a pattern of values in which public honor and shame play a positive role. The domain of the house, in modern times often referred to simply as the ‘private sphere,’ thus comes to be seen in a different light. For Jacob Cats, the reputation of the house is inextricably linked to three things. First, with the appropriate appearance of the housemates, both inside and outside the house. Second, with the status of the free burgher in Holland. And thirdly, with the couple as a natural, divine couple at the head of the household enterprise. In contrast to the modern conception of ‘being ashamed’ as a somewhat uncomfortable feeling of embarrassment and shyness, Cats considers shame an honorable gift from God. This trait is innate to the female sex, and it is therefore her duty to protect and maintain her honor. At the same time, female shame is a fleeting haze that can easily evaporate. By hearing unsullied, insolent, or lustful talk, by reading frisky books, by giving or receiving gifts easily, the luster of yesteryear gives way to blemishes and stains.896 Staying in the house is the best guarantee that female honor will not be compromised. If a virgin wants to preserve her honor she had better stay inside, that is, in the parental house and in school, as long as possible. ‘Ja deur en venster, boven dat, Die schaden vry al mede wat (...), Gy, wilje zijn van goeden lof, Blijf t’huys, dat is het maegden133 hof’ [Yes door and window, above all, Those bring quite a bit of damage (...), You, if you want to be of good praise, Stay in the house, that’s the virgin’s-garden]. Men must be careful not to affect or dispel the woman's shame.897 This is related to Cats’ disapproval of ‘blanketten’ [use white powder], a rejection he shares with other classical and early modern authors.898 It is a theme that has often attracted attention in recent studies as a sign of the adherence to the idea of women’s inferiority right up to the early modern period.899 Cats (and others), however, are not so much concerned with the sin or lust that such paintings induce in men, but with the loss of the natural blush and its enchanting power. Coloring the female face makes the visible signs of shame disappear: the honorable red that makes tender cheeks blush. A virgin who displays her honorable red while in conversation with a suitor bestows upon him proof that her heart is beating brighter. She thereby does him honor and that causes him, in turn, to lose his heart. Ziet als u ‘t eerbaer root ontsteeckt, Terwijl dat iemant met u spreeckt, Het is een eer die hem geschiet, Dat ghy hem roode wangen biedt, Uw jeugdigh bloet, te voren stil, Dat huppelt op, om sijnent wil, Ja ‘t koomt hem vlytigh in ‘t gmoet, Gelijck men lieve vrienden doet, Dus wort hem in de sin gebracht, Dat ghy hem eere weerdigh acht.900 [Behold when you ignite the honorable red, While someone is speaking to you, It is an honor for him, That you offer him red cheeks, Your youthful blood, beforehand silent, That jumps up, for his sake, Yes it comes powerfully to his mind, As it does with dear friends, So he is brought to his senses, That you consider him worthy of your honor]. The married woman and mother can confirm her ‘maagdelijke staat’ [virgin state] by showing a blushing face and thus the purity of the marital bond.901 Unlike women, men can only acquire their honor. They must conquer this quality on their own nature. In his work Cats still indicates gentlemen of standing 134 with the title ‘Ridder’ [Knight]. With this he refers to a man who is being publicly praised, thus a man of distinction.902 The difference with earlier times, however, is that one no longer acquires this prestige through violence or feats of arms.903 In general, Cats thinks of male prestige primarily in terms of heavy physical exertion. Work in the army, reclamation of land, but also distant overseas trips and hunting hares – these are the areas in which a man can distinguish himself. By the way, the gallant chase of a mature spinster is part of that too.904 Although transformed into a symbolic hunting party, Cats particularly urges the young spinsters to respect the suitors as hunters and not to be caught too quickly (bp. 3.31.1-3).905 Al heb ick tot het wildt een wonder groot verlangen, Noch sal ick geenen haes op sijnen leger vangen: Ich scheppe meerder lust wanneer hy veerdigh loopt; Want ‘t heeft doch beter geur al wat men diere koopt. Wel op dan, vluchtigh dier, waerom hier stil geseten? Gy dient niet sonder sweet, en sonder stof gegeten, Dat is uw beste saus: uw spier en smaeckt ons niet, Als gy u sonder loop dus aen den jager biedt. Is ‘t niet een seldsaem dingh? ick weet een jonge vryster Die moy, die geestig is, en singt gelijck een lyster, Die streelt my wonder sacht, en spreekt geduerig schoon, En des al niet-te-min ick acht het niet een boon: ‘k En weet niet hoe het komt, sy kan mijn wilde sinnen, Sy kan mijn grilligh hert met vleyen niet gewinnen: Ick sie het alle daegh, al heb ick ongelijck, Hoe sy my naerder komt, hoe dat ick verder wijck. Daer woont in tegendeel hier onder onse bueren Een ander weeligh dier vol alderhande kueren, Een trots en spijtigh dingh, dat my geduerigh quelt, Dat my gansch selden spreeckt, en veel te leure stelt. Hoe moet ick menigmael ontrent haer deure dwalen, Oock als de koude sneeu komt uyt den hemel dalen! En des al niet-te-min, ick ben’er meê gepast, En voel dat my het vyer oock in de koude wast. Wel vryers, naer ick sie, wy slachten hier den jager, Die prijst den snellen haes, al is het wildt-braet mager; De moeyte wet de lust, soo dat’er niet en smaeckt, Als dat hem draven doet, en moede leden maeckt. Al wat men heeft besuert, dat wort met vreugt gegeten, En dat wat moeyte kost, dat wort met lust beseten. Wel vrysters; wie gy zijt, wilt noyt te veyligh zijn; Geen vreugt en heeft vermaek als naer voorgaande pijn. 135 [Though I have a wonder great desire for wildlife, Yet I will not catch a hare in his lair: I like it much better when it runs fast; For that tastes better than what one buys dearly. Well to then, fleeing animal, why do you sit still? You must not be eaten without sweat, and without dust, That is thy best sauce: thy muscle tastes us not, If you offer yourself to the hunter without running. Isn’t it a wondrous thing? I know a young spinster Who is beautiful, who is witty, and sings like a thrush, Who caresses me softly, and speaks beautifully all the time, And yet I consider it no gift: I know not how it comes, she cannot win my wild senses, My whimsical heart with flattery: I see it every day, though I am wrong, The more she comes to me, the further I run away. On the contrary, here among our neighbors Another lush animal full of all kinds of cures, A proud and unapproachable thing, that torments me constantly, Who seldom speaks to me and disappoints me much. So I often wander around her door, Even when the cold snow is falling from the sky! And nevertheless, I feel more served, And feel that the fire in me grows even in the cold. Well suitors, as I see it, we slaughter the hunter here, Who praises the quick hare, though the roast is lean; The effort sharpens the lust, so that it tastes only, If he should trot, and make weary members. Whatever costs trouble, is eaten with joy, And that which takes effort, one possesses with pleasure. Well spinsters; whoever you are, Never want to be too safe; Joy gives pleasure only after previous pain]. In any case, marriage constitutes the configuration par excellence in which man and woman can arrange their existence in an honorable manner. This situation is advantageous to both sexes: the woman knows her honor is protected thanks to a man who defends her, the man knows how to acquire honor thanks to a woman who cherishes her shame, Cats reasons. For the married, it is important to establish and maintain their honor in public. Both spouses also have their vulnerabilities. For example, the husband who is constantly on the road for work must uphold his honor as a married man. If the temptation of the pub and brothel 136 is too great for him, then he had better find his work closer to the house so that he is at home every evening and thus upholds the name of the house. The wife of the house must also be careful not to injure the honor of the house. Unlike her husband, the wife always carries the honor of the house with her. If she goes with steady steps and shows dignity in gesture, she commands public respect. Like the house of a tortoise, the good name rests on the shoulders of the housewife.906 If, according to public opinion, she spends too much time outside the house, if rumors about her circulate, if she is discredited or even acquires the nickname ‘Seldenthuys’ [Seldom home], then it is better for the prestige of the house that she stays at home more often.907 As before with the passions, when it comes to upholding house honor, Cats again gives numerous stage directions. It is the clothing one wears, the posture one assumes, the face one displays, the gesture of one’s limbs, the sound one makes, and the color of one’s face which are the indicators of dignity and prestige of the manners in the house. Ghy Prinssen van het huys, en alle ware mannen, Wilt alderley getooy van uwe leden bannen; Want soo g’u sedigh kleet, en niet te prachtig gaet, Gy sult uw gansch gesin bewegen tot de maet. De man moet deftigh sijn in alle sijne wegen, Tot pralen niet geneyght, tot proncken niet genegen; Een man in sijn bedrijf, een man in sijn gelaet, Geen pluyser achter huys, geen proncker achter straet.908 [You, masters of the house, and all true men, Banish all frills from your members; For if you go demure, and without pomp, Then you will move your whole family to keep measure. The man must be modest in all his ways, Not inclined to boast, Not inclined to show off; A man in his business, a man in his face, Not a fluffer behind the house, Not a braggart in the street]. A house with an appropriate exterior and interior, the handling of guests and gifts can make or break a public reputation. House etiquette, ‘tafelwetten’ [table laws] and ‘wetten van het echtelijke bed’ [laws of the marital bed], are manners based on mutual respect and esteem. Housemates should avoid ostentatious display as much as they should avoid too much skimpiness of appearance. Showing off gives the house as bad a name as being dressed sloppily. 137 Men siet meest over al de vrouwen op der straten, In alderhande pracht geweldigh uyt-gelaten, Men pleegt hier menigmael, men houd gesetten raet, Op ‘t schicken van een hayr, en ‘t leggen van een draet: Maer by een eygen man, of binnen sijnen huyse, Daer vintmen menighmael een backhuys van Meduse, Een leelick momme-tuyg, een spoock, een vuyl gestel, En wilje ‘t al in een, een rechte morssebel.909 [One sees everywhere the women on the streets, In all kinds of splendor and great joy, One commits here many a time, one holds firm counsel, On the arrangement of a hair, and the laying of a thread: But with their own husband, or within his house, There one finds many a mug like Medusa, An ugly mask, a ghost, a filthy figure, And, in sum, a true sloppy creature]. Hands and arms swinging wildly, legs and feet kicking or trampling, all these harm the name as much as loitering, hanging around, idling and doing nothing. Sending children into the street with uncombed hair, unwashed face and tattered clothes is out of the question: Wie heeft doch niet gemerkt, hoe dickmael gansche dagen Veel vrouwen sijn gestelt om kinders wegh te jagen? Bekrosen, ongeschickt, wanbacken, afgeslooft, Een schabbe voor het lijf, een nacht-doek om het hooft? Begrommelt, ongesien, met ongewasse kaken, In ‘t korte; soo gestelt, men schijnt’er af te braken;910 [Who has not noticed, how often whole days Many women are inclined to chase away children? Depraved, ill-mannered, disfigured, exhausted, Rags on the body, a night-cloth on the head? Messy, ugly, with unwashed jaws, In short, so to speak, they are vomitous]. But no less wrong is it to indulge in the Hague way and adorn oneself outside the house with beautiful attire or love tapes (such as a ribbon, a hair band, or a garter from a beloved suitor).911 Parading along the street is just as inappropriate as strolling or running around town.912 Arguing spouses create as bad an impression 138 with neighbors or guests as silent and sulking couples. The purchase of expensive tableware as a sign of wealth and power leads to as great a loss of face as household goods left unused in the closet.913 Both excess and sparseness (in cleaning and dining) are inappropriate. Excessive gulping of food and drink by the husband or excessive eating of sweets by the wife indicates a lack of dignity. Unregulated and insatiable love in the marriage bed is not so much morally reprehensible as it deserves disapproval for lack of measure. Excessive pride and high spirits should be as foreign to the housemates as frugal or scrappy behavior. All these extremes put the prestige of the house to the test. One attests to dignity when one's clothing is sober, but of good quality, comparatively not too expensive, and always clean and in one piece.914 One should move with steady and sure gait, with a clear purpose in mind and with one's head held high. One’s gestures and facial expression should be sober, happy and unaffected, always appropriate to the situation and compared to others. One should express oneself eloquently when necessary, and always listen to another. In short, one treats one another respectfully, is benevolent, and takes each other into account.915 Offering a guest meal to strangers should be done in an honorable way. Cats tells of the master of the house who unexpectedly invites a friend into his house to share a meal with the family. The host greets his friend and stays with him in the garden, until the maid comes to say that the table is ready and set. Clean and beautiful linens and polished dinnerware do the table honor. First, the master of the house offers his guest fragrant water and a clean napkin so he can wash his hands.916 He offers him the most important place at the table, after which his wife and children also take their places at the table. One of the children pronounces the blessing for the meal and the meal can begin. Maids and servants come and go with a variety of dishes. Soon the table is filled with fried and roasted food, homemade soups, meat, fish, bacon and fruit, and salads. House-made pastries, made from homegrown fruit, eggs and cream, are served as well as waffles, cakes and nice sweets. There are plenty of dishes, but they are not sumptuous or lavish. The host has wine retrieved from the cellar and glasses brought in. The servant pours the guest an appropriate amount in a timely manner. A pleasant conversation is held, the host jests and the hostess shows a happy face. The guest in turn complies with the rules of the house. He accepts the food that is offered to him and does not abuse the hospitality by eating too much or by staying too long. Caring for everyone’s dignity and honorable interaction at the table is ensured if each one adheres to the ‘tafelwetten’ [table laws]. If one follows the rules of the art, one maintains the outward dignity of the dinner guests.917 Nails with mourning edges, sliding the plate, or putting a glass on it, fidgeting with the napkin, bumping your neighbor on the shoulder, but also putting your hand under the table in your pocket or on your lap or wiggling your feet is inappropriate, says Cats. A person’s face is violated by cheeks smeared with food remains, by slurping, sneezing or farting. If one should sneeze, it is advisable to cover the 139 open mouth with a nose cloth or hand, just as a wind can be concealed by coughing hard. With this last advice, which Cats borrows from Erasmus with approval, he emphasizes that it is better to suffer temporary loss of face, with shame coloring the cheeks, than to have stomach pains. Someone gets a bad name when he is the first to reach into the dish, grabs the best piece of meat, eats as if he thinks roasts and cakes will follow or scraps sugar from the rice. It is appropriate to grasp the food with three fingers and to use a knife for salt, instead of using the fingers. In the early modern era, well-mannered dining means first and foremost adapting to the company one is part of: reading a letter or sitting around pouting are things one does not do at the table with guests. You save such things for the moment when you are alone. Nor is it dignified to pick a fight, gossip, tell dirty stories or touch someone’s wife. Being in company requires an appropriate façade, with a happy face and sweet conversation. In Cats’ view, proper actions and dignified conduct stand on their own. He does not regard them as the ‘symbolic expression’ of an internal civilization, nor as a ‘formal mask’ behind which real emotions hide. For him, dignity is a ritual matter implied in the habitus. Respectable behavior requires constant vigilance to do the right thing and leave the wrong thing. It is a matter of finding the appropriate measure each time given the talents one possesses and the event that occurs. One earns the esteem and respect for this effort from others. ‘We leven weliswaar in vrijgevochten landen’ [Admittedly, we live in a country that has liberated itself], but this does not mean, Cats believes, that we have the freedom to do anything we want. It is all about the freedom to rule oneself and others with whom one lives wisely. In many areas there are therefore rules according to which one directs one’s conduct, not only in the house (Cats speaks of ‘rules of the table’ and rules of the chamber’ and for the bed), but also where public interaction is concerned. The free burgher has the privilege of conforming to these. This allows him to escape the unfree life of a slave (who lives as his master commands) or of an animal (that lives as its instinct wants it to).918 Unlike Aristotle, Cats grants this freedom to submit not only to the free man, but also to the free woman. He explicitly points out to the married man that he must leave his wife in her own dignity, so that she may comply with the rules based on her own nature. Dit wort noch evenwel in geenen deel geschreven, Om gronden aen den man tot vrouwe-dwang te geven; Een die met eyge praem sijn echte wijf bewaert, En houd den regel niet van onsen vryen aert. Men hoeft (God sy gelooft,) in onse Nederlanden Geen boeyen voor de vrou, geen slavelicke banden, Geen kluysters aen het been, geen ander onbescheyt, 140 Dat elders wort gepleegt, en niet en dient geseyt. Ick bid de Zeeusche jeugt en alle ware mannen, Noyt vrouw door bedwang in huys te willen bannen; Sy dient niet, als een boef, gesloten in den stock; Sy dient niet als een aep gehouden aen den block. Denckt vry dat menigh wijf is uyt den bant gesprongen, Om datse veel te seer was in den bant gedwongen: Van hier dan alle dwang; de Zeeuw is al te vry, Geen deugt en wort geleert door harde slaverny.919 [Yet it is not written in anywhere, To give a foundation to the man to force his wife; One who with his own compulsion holds his wife captive, Who does not abide by the rule of our free nature. One need (God be praised,) in our Netherlands No chains for the wife, no slave bonds, No chains on the leg, no other folly, That is committed elsewhere, and should not be mentioned I pray the youth of Zeeland and all true men, Never to banish a woman by force in the house; She should not, like a crook, be locked up in jail; She should not, like a monkey, be kept on the punishment block. Know for sure that many a wife has go out the spree, Because she was far too much in the shackles: So away with all that coercion; the Zeeuw is supremely free, No virtue is learned by hard bondage]. So, the man and woman of the house always keep an eye on the public judgment. They adjust their own attitude, their dealings with one another and their attitude toward the children and servants accordingly. If they fall short in their household ruling, if they behave inappropriately and excessively, others will drag the name of the house through the mud. Guests, children, and servants are pre-eminently the ones who bring out the domestic misdeeds. They reveal what is going on in the house and are thus the pillars on which the publicness of the house rests. Therefore, one must receive guests correctly and give them the honor due to their status. Therefore, one must educate children properly. Therefore, one must choose servants well, treat them fairly, and give them respectable examples. By relating to one another in respectable ways, the house can keep its name. All this makes it clear that Jacob Cats’ house is something very different from a private space that withdraws from the public domain. Both the image of the evil outside world versus the safe domesticity as well as the image of a public domain 141 (place of exercise of power) versus a private sphere (place of oppression) fall short in this regard. Not only the street, but also the indoors, in Cats’ view, belongs to the open, public domain where codes of honor apply.920 There is a continuum from the street to the inner house that holds numerous dangers and can bring disgrace upon the house. The rules of honor do not stop at the façade. The codes of honor that define the well-being of the house do so without regard for the walls, doors and windows that separate the house from the street. In his work, Cats, by writing about it, makes all chambers openly accessible, even the conjugal bedroom. Provided one knows how to behave! Cats warns in advance.921 Wedged between two types of culture – that in which shame, open, public access, outward show, violence, and the group are decisive, and that in which one is guided by conscience, the inner voice, the virtue of the soul, modesty, and the individual – the pattern of values formulated by Cats at the beginning of the seventeenth century is not a weak transitional form, but a powerful cultural constellation in which elements from both registers have been combined.922 Still less is it about a psychological disciplining in which all outward appearances are taken as signs of embarrassment, as Norbert Elias once proposed.923 Instead, it is about the return of a classical conception of dignity, a dignity that Aristotle had reserved for free men and that is coming back to prominence in Europe through all sorts of avenues. This revaluation appears to be found in other early modern authors as well. William Perkins speaks of the duty of a married man to honor his wife, but also of the duty that the household members must do honest (and profitable) work for the benefit of the house.924 Others express themselves more extensively on the subject. Alberti, for example, has a married man instruct his wife as follows: Never, dear wife, I told her, think of someone as our friend if you see his energies directed against our benefit. It anyone wants to reduce our honorable condition in any way, count him for an enemy. For dignity ought to mean more than property, and honor more than comfort. The man who steals some of our possessions injures us less than the one who brings us disgrace.925 But honor also pervades in an unmistakable way the attitude in life that Le Ménagier de Paris presents to his young wife: Yet although, ... I would that you know how to give good will and honor and service in great measure and abundance more than is fit for me, either to serve another husband, if you have one, after me, or to teach greater wisdom to your daughters, friends or others, if you list and have such need. For the more you know the greater honor will be yours and the greater praise will therefore be unto your parents and to me and to others about you, by whom thou have been nurtured.926 142 In his conclusion of La Perfecta Casada, Fray de León also describes her in classical terms of dignity: On no subject do people express themselves with more high-minded praise and more decidedly - they may be dealing with themselves alone or reasoning it out with others - they may be staying in their own houses or, in public, holding themselves up in squares. One gives special praise to her domesticity, one speaks of her astute insight, another praises her piety, or her honorable, sweet amiability. The freshness of her being, the neatness, of her clothing, her day job, her night watch - it does not escape attention. People tell each other about the servants who have become better people because of her, about her house and garden, increased in value because of her care, about her contact with neighbors who are worthy of friendship and peace. One does not forget to speak of her alms and does not stop talking about her conjugal love and how she knew how to find the way to her husband's heart. (...) All her actions, her words, her conduct are praised.927 Even more than Erasmus, with whom one finds similar classical views, Jacob Cats and other writers relate dignity to the house and more particularly to the married couple.928 Honor and shame, appropriate appearance and attitude regulate the body and passions, as well as the circulation in the house. Cats generates its own (new) mix in which free spouses rule themselves with tools drawn from collectively shared codes of honor. The couple, walking arm in arm in the open and not letting anything or anyone separate them, is in Jacob Cats’ eyes the prototype of their honorable unanimity:929 Wanneer gy door de stadt te samen koomt getreden, En dat’er over straet een wagen koomt gereden, Of dat’er eenigh beest koomt loopen op te baen, Of dat’er eenigh mensch koomt tegen u gegaen, En laet u nimmermeer van uw geselschap scheyden, En lijd geen hinder-pael, geen schutsel tusschen beyden, Helt staeg naer uwen man, en toont hem met der daet, Dat gy hem noemt en neemt voor uwen toeverlaet: Dat sal hem die het siet een soet bedencken geven, Dat sal een teycken sijn van uw eendraghtigh leven, Dat sal uw soeten aert, en t’huys en over al, Doen achten by het volck, en maecken lief-getal. [When you come walking through the town together, And if a wagon comes driving down the street, Or if an animal comes running on the road, Or if a man comes walking towards you, Then never let yourselves be parted from your company, 143 And let no obstacle, no fence come between you, Incline yourself always to your husband and show him tenderness, That you call him and consider him your confidant: That will give those who see it a good thought, That will be a sign of your united life, And your gentle nature in the house and everywhere, People will appreciate that as kindness]. Jacob Cats uses many comparisons in his Houwelick to explain the characteristics, status, and purpose of the marital bond. Many examples he borrows from Nature. Among other things, he compares husband and wife to two draught animals (oxen or horses) pulling a plow or carriage for life. But equally he sees them as two millstones grinding eternally.930 Only by straining together, by bearing the yoke in unison and moving evenly, can the goal be reached: the field is plowed, the journey is completed, the flour is milled. The metaphors that Cats uses with this subject are remarkable. He describes the married man and woman as two eyes looking together, as two lips kissing together or as two hands washing each other. Where one is, at the same time the other is. They form an inseparable twosome, like the paired body parts. Een vrou van soeten aert heeft over al te poogen Te sijn met haren man gelijck twee menschen oogen Door eenen geest bestiert: al waer het eene siet, Daer is ‘t van stonden aen dat oock het ander schiet.931 [A woman with a kind nature should always try To be together with her husband as two human eyes By one mind governed: all that one eye sees, From the beginning the other eye gazes at it too]. Such a comparison shows similarities to Stevin’s attention to the particular form, substance, size and value of the complementary parts of an architectural structure. Each of the two parts does its distinct duty, keeping to its own part of the labor and thus helping to bear the burden of the whole.932 ‘Tot het welk de man, als het hooft, vlytelijk dient voort te gaen, dewijle de vriendelijckheyt van den man in desen deele is als een sachte voeringe van het jock des mans, op dat’et de vrouwe liever en beter drage’ [To which the man, as the head, should proceed with care, because the kindness of the man in this respect is like a soft lining of the man’s yoke, that it may bear the woman dearer and better].933 Thus, Cats uses natural difference as the basis for defining the married couple as the minimal unit in the culture. Everything he says about either sex is in complementary joint with what he says about the other. 144 Cats therefore designates the couple in terms that underscore their inseparability (bp.3.32.1-2). He speaks of ‘gepaarde schapen’ [paired sheep], ‘gespan’ [pair] and ‘welgevoegde paren’ [matched couples], of husband and wife as ‘makker’ [companion, buddy], ‘bed-genoot’ [bedmate], ‘mede-maat’ [fellow] and ‘weerde deel’ [worthy, dignified counterpart].934 Man and woman are like water and wine. Once married, they are companions for life. What is mixed well once can never be separated.935 Spouses ‘worden in den vriendelijken bant der liefde te samen gevoegt tot geen ander eynde, als om door onderlinge minsaamheyt malkanderen meer en meer tot liefde en vrientschap te mogen opwecken. ‘t Huwelijk is in der aart een recht werk der liefde, het moet met liefde begonnen, met liefde gevoert, met liefde voltrocken worden’ [are joined together in the friendly bond of love for no other purpose than to be able, by mutual affability, to rouse each other more and more to love and friendship. Marriage is in its nature a good work of love; it must begin with love, be conducted with love, and be accomplished with love].936 Knowing and trusting that the one to whom one is married does the same, both spouses must try to become equal foot by foot, hand by hand, eye by eye, to the symbolic likeness Jacob Cats presents to them.937 They form a team that goes forward together. If one of them leaves its own track, withdraws, goes its own way or one of the millstones stops working – then the other also goes badly. Then the conjugal work can only be done in fits and starts, and all efforts remain futile. No grain is milled, the journey is suspended, and the field remains unplanted. Thus, it is the duty of both spouses to cultivate the marriage bond permanently and to perpetuate peace. Even if one of the two renounces its duty, the other must fulfill his or her marital duties for ‘God’s sake’.938 One even has the duty before God to forgive the derailed other half and put them back on the right track. In this way the spouses can achieve the highest that God has provided for human beings in this world.939 In much recent literature, the differences that Cats describes between the two sexes are polarized. One approaches the images he conjures up of the married woman and the married man as if they were modern careers that can be judged according to our current morality of unfolding an individual as solitary as s/he is sexless. The spatial segregation is thereby understood as evidence of the patriarchal, hierarchical, and asymmetrical relationship between the sexes. With Cats, however, the separation of worlds has a different rationale. With his images he addresses the married man and woman to the duality they will form. Just as two draught animals, tied to the same yoke, each follow their own furrow, one to the left, the other to the right, so too the married couple each have their own domain. The wife performs her work in the house, the husband outside. ‘Wy sullen onder dies, wy sullen tusschen beyden, Al wat’er is te doen met reden onderscheyden, En plegen ons beroep naer eysch en rechte maet, Gy diensten van 145 het huys, ick dingen van de straet’ [We will therefore, meanwhile, All that there is to do wisely discern, And commit our profession to what is necessary and according to the right measure, You services of the house, I things of the street].940 Like two eyes are ruled by the same mind, so too do two spouses contribute to the same marital work. Just as hands that wash each other serve the whole body, so husband and wife provide mutual aid to each other, which ultimately benefits the house as a whole.941 This twofoldness can only be brought about by the spouses in wisdom, is the tenor of Cats’ entire work. Only with reason and knowledge, only with an understanding of the rules and laws of household enterprise are husband and wife able to act well all the time. This ties in with Van Schurman’s view that the appropriation of knowledge is an appropriate, expedient and dignified activity precisely for women.942 Often they enjoy a ‘tamelijk rustig en vrij leven ten deel’ [rather quiet and free life].943 She believes that women who are in a position to do so, who possess ‘een gemiddeld verstand’ [an average intellect] and an ‘aangeboren verlangen’ [innate desire] for knowledge should spend their leisure time appropriately.944 Van Schurman envisions a learned woman sitting in the house reading, thinking, and writing. Not only for the young, still unmarried woman, but also for married women with a household, there are, according to Van Schurman, perfectly conceivable circumstances for this useful pastime:945 In de derde plaats moet onze vrouw wat omstandigheden en positie betreft aan de eis voldoen, dat ze zich af en toe kan vrijmaken van haar algemene en haar bijzondere roeping, te weten het belijden van het geloof en de huishouding. En een vrouw kan tijdens haar jeugd, wanneer ze de vrijheid heeft en niet belast is met verantwoordelijkheden, zonder problemen aan deze voorwaarde voldoen, en ook op gevorderde leeftijd, wanneer ze ongehuwd is of over dienstbodes beschikt; want die nemen meestal ook de rijkere getrouwde vrouwen hun huishoudelijke taken voor een groot deel uit handen. [Thirdly, as far as circumstances and position are concerned, our woman must meet the requirement, that she may from time to time free herself from her general and her special vocation, namely, to profess the faith and to keep house. And a woman can meet this condition without difficulty during her youth, when she has freedom and is not burdened with responsibilities, and also at an advanced age, when she is unmarried or has servants at her disposal; for these usually take the household duties largely out of the hands of even the wealthier married women]. For Van Schurman, scholarship is not only a good remedy against unchastity and a worthy and honorable use of time.946 She considers it not least as knowledge that the married woman can use to ‘onderrichten en sturen’ [teach and direct] her family.947 In this sense, Van Schurman shares the framework we find with Cats and Van Beverwijck.948 For them, although the learned woman is an ‘uitzonderlijk geval’ [exceptional case], a ‘peerel van den doeck’ [a pearl among women], an 146 ‘sieraad’ [ornament] or a ‘wonder’ [miracle], she is certainly not a ‘monster’ [monster] or a ‘ongepast wezen’ [inappropriate being] (Fray Luis de León).949 The ultimate goal of this wise attitude of the conjugal couple is to install peace in the house.950 Peace in the house is the culmination of the unity of the household: ‘Want waer het echte-paer vol-leert in dit geval, het soude vreedsaem sijn te huys en overal’ [For if the couple in this case was fully qualified, it would be peaceful in the house and everywhere].951At the same time, this domestic peace is the celebration of the spiritual covenant.952 ‘Een die tot sijnen God in vrede wil genaken, ‘Moet aen sijn even mensch alvorens vrede maken, ‘Weet dat God in den geest noyt rechten vrede geeft, ‘Dan als men in het vlees in soeten vrede leeft.953 [‘One who wishes to approach his God in peace, ‘Must beforehand make peace with his counterpart, ‘Know that God never gives good peace in the mind, ‘Except when one lives in sweet peace in the family]. Arranging life with wisdom (and thus according to the rules) – ‘’t Is kunst te leven’ [It is an art to live well] says Cats – is the joint duty the couple has taken upon themselves.954 Cats offers in his Houwelick those rules of ‘wel-leven’ [wellliving, ars bene vivendi].955 In the appropriation of the knowledge of the marital substance, husband and wife are equal in the eyes of Cats: both should take the principles to themselves and to both of them he addresses himself. But in a similar way to Simon Stevin in regard to the relationship between ‘spiegheling’ [reflection] and ‘daet’ [doing, practical activity], Cats considers the knowledge of principles and the handling of the principles in life as an inseparable whole, but in which everyday life will always show itself unruly. The household enterprise presupposes a thorough knowledge of its rules and laws. But the reverse is not true: when one knows the principles, it does not mean that in practice one is capable of ruling the household enterprise well. Only a good and wise wife is able to adjust her daily activities accordingly with knowledge of (the system of rules) (bp.3.33.1). Cats therefore considers the wise housewife, wife and mother – as ‘troost’ [solace], as ‘steun’ [support] and as a ‘heilzaam ding’ [beneficial thing] – as the pivot around which the domestic business revolves. 956 Herweg concisely summarizes most of the elements mentioned by Cats, elements that are thought of in conjunction with the Jewish tradition of house and family. In the religious continuum that marks daily life, husband and wife both fulfill their roles. Both are expected to have considerable knowledge of rules of 147 life and regulations.957 The ‘priestly’ duties of the spouses are thus thought to be complementary but directed toward the same goal. Consequently, the places where both spouses act are also complementary and equal, and not the result of hierarchical segregation as is sometimes thought.958 ‘Die Rollen der Eltern ergänzen einander vollkommen und wirken wechselseitig: Der Vater steht für Verstand und Geist; gleichsam zeitlos fungiert er als das Sprachrohr der göttlichen Gebote und repräsentiert der Gemeinschaft und Tradition. Seine Domäne ist das Lehrhaus, die Theorie. Die Mutter hingegen ist die praktisch Handelnde, die Realistin und Hüterin des Hauses; sie ist die Quelle der Wärme, der Beistand und die emotionale Resonanz. Den Elementen, die den Rollenunterschied bedingen, machen zugleich auch die Interdependenz aus; sie dienen sowohl der Spannung wie der Geschlossenheit. Nur als Paar, als zweigeteilte Einheit, können Mann und Frau Vollständigkeit vor Gott erlangen und ebenbildlich wirken. Ihr Status ist abhängig von Kindern, die ihrerseits wieder auf elterliche Aufmerksamkeit und Fürsorge angewiesen sind (...). Das Zusammenwirken von Konflikt und Kohäsion hält das familiäre Spannungsfeld im Gleichgewicht, und dieses Gleichgewicht wird durch die Vorstellung von Schalom Bajit [Frieden des Hauses], dem Ideal der von aufrichtere Treue und “Reinheit” erfülten jüdischen Familie, umrissen’.959 Like many worthy things, an honorable marriage is not obtained without pain, effort, and diligence.960 The profession or office of a married person, therefore, is by no means a light matter.961 It is a weighty work, in which minor matters have major consequences.962 Likewise, the Christian housefather and Christian housewife rule their house to the best of their ability. By voluntarily taking on the daily work and the common marital burden (by founding a peaceful house), they bring about a worthy and spiritual work.963 The ‘echte band’ [true, conjugal bond] is thus not so much a bilateral agreement between two individuals, nor a treaty between two families.964 The conjugal state consummated according ‘naar eer en geweten’ [in good conscience] is a public, natural, and godly state.965 This also clarifies the rationale of Cats’ separate worlds – conjugal complementarity as the practice, honoring, and perpetuation of spiritual duality.966 Al mag een kloecke vrou geen winst of eer bejagen, Met eenig swaer geding den Rechter voor te dragen; Al mag een kloecke vrou niet toonen haer verstant In dienst van eenig Prins, of van het Vader-lant: Al mag een kloecke vrou, om sonderlinge reden, Niet dienen in de kerck, niet heerschen in de steden, Niet sitten in den Raet; noch vint een vlytig wijf In menig ander ding een eerlijk tijt-verdrijf: Noch wort haer evenwel vry stof genoeg gelaten Om niet een ure tijts te dwalen achter straten; 148 ‘Al wie sig besig houd ontrent het huys-gesin, ‘Die vint’er kleyn beslag en groote saecken in. Gy kont, besette vrou, hier tijts genoeg besteden, Indien gy maer en wilt u quijten naer de reden: Een moeder van het huys, die op haer saecken past, Vint dickmael groote vreugt, en weder grooten last. Gy, met uw weerde man, sijt hier als hooge magten, Als Prinssen van het lant; laet uwe kinders agten Voor Ridders van den Staet, en doet’er vorder by De boden van het huys; siet daer uw borgery. Hoe moogje, jonge vrou, uw sinnen laten swieren? Hoe konje ledig sijn? gy moet een Rijck bestieren, Gy moet een Vorstendom, een lant, een ganschen Staet, Behoeden van gevaer, en dat met eygen raet. Ghy moet u menigmael als ware regters toonen, Nu straffen naer den eysch, dan goede diensten loonen; Hier naer den regel gaen, daer uyt een volle maght Iet rechten dat’er schort, al naeje dienstigh acht. Hier moetje stil gemor en muytery beletten, Daer iemant met’er daet uyt alle Staten setten: In ‘t korte groot beslagh, oock in het kleyne wijk, So dat men seggen mag: Een huys een koninkrijk.967 [Although a sensible woman may not pursue profit or honor, Present a heavy lawsuit to the Judge; Though a clever woman may not show her intellect In the service of a Sovereign, or of the Fatherland: Though a good woman, for special reasons, Should not serve in church, should not rule in town, Nor sit in council; yet a strong woman Will find an honest pastime in many another matter: Yet surely substance enough is left to her Not to wander the streets for hours; All those who occupy themselves with the household, Will find there small things and big affairs. You can, worthy woman, spend enough time here, If only you would discharge it wisely: A mother of the house, who looks after her affairs, Often finds great joy, and less great trouble. You, with your worthy husband, are here as high powers, As sovereigns of the land; consider your children As Knights of the State, and add to them 149 The servants of the house; behold your burghers there. Why should you, young woman, let your senses sway? Why should you be idle? You must run an Empire, You have to run a kingdom, a country, a whole state, Guard against danger, and that by your own insight. You must show yourself many a time as true judges, Now punish wisely, then reward good services; Here you do according to the rule, there with all your might Put right what is wrong, as you wish. Here to prevent silent murmurings and mutiny, There to actually remove someone from office: In short, big business, even in the small domain, So that one can say, A house, a kingdom]. 150 3.2.2. The House as Condensation of the Art of Living Well The many uncertainties and dangers that threatened life in the early modern era continually present themselves in the Houwelick between the lines. One remembers vividly the battles that were fought and the much blood that was shed in the process. After the end of the Twelve-Year Truce, the weapons are taken up again to defend the borders of the Republic.968 Hunger is hardly known in Holland since trade has flourished, but Cats’ enumeration of all kinds of food is a reminiscence of the medieval land of plenty. Nevertheless, in the depiction of an abundance that was as sudden as it was temporary, a subsequent time of scarcity and lack is suspected.969 The struggle against water continues unabated and dike breaches or floods are not imagined. The tide of life can turn in this way and man who does not realize this is a fool, according to Cats. ‘Des werelts saken al-temael, Die sweven in een losse schael, Om soo te wagen t’eener tijt, Al wat ghy hebt, en wat ghy zijt...’ [All the things of the world, float in an uncertain pair of scales, that at any moment, can shake up, Everything you have and who you are...].970 Despite the relative calm in the Republic, the concern for daily existence is no less. Without a modern government to provide all kinds of amenities, people in the early modern period were mainly dependent on themselves and others in the vicinity. ‘Wel-leven’ [living well] is therefore, in the words of Cats, arranging life with wisdom: ‘t Is kunst te leven’ [It is an art to live well].971 It is therefore not surprising that the attention that Cats pays in the Houwelick to primary needs such as the care of shelter, food, clothing, warmth, and light is also discussed in other writings by early modern authors. This also applies to his scenes in which fate strikes with illness, pain, infirmity, and old age. The body withers away or is tormented by pains, the sudden death of a child, a mother dying in childbirth, a father dying at sea – these are all experiences of life that come close to the surface in Cats’ texts. The need for cooperation with others is therefore obvious. Because of the innate inequality between human beings (not everyone possesses the same talents, competencies and physical strengths), (wellregulated) coalitions become inevitable.972 Unlike today, one could not keep risks out by buying them off, insuring them or denying them. The extent to which human beings in the early modern era were aware of the precarious struggle for existence is also shown by the fact that they wished a new bride and groom luck by hoping that they might become ‘te samen out en leelick’ [together old and ugly]. The art of dying that Cats suggests to the young married couple in his preface to the ‘Bedaagde Huismoeder’ [Elderly Housemother] underlines this once more. Living in wisdom implies realizing that life and death are very close to each other. All conceivable dangers can still present themselves today: ‘Wat oyt kan geschieden, kan heden geschieden’ [What can ever happen, can also happen now].973 Therefore, one must exercise oneself for life by imbuing oneself with death. Going to sleep, getting up, leaving the house, and coming home again, it 151 can always be the last time. If fate has mercy, then one should give thanks to God. Like pregnant women who ‘buitengewoon verheugd zouden moeten zijn, omdat God hen veilig verlost heeft’ [should be exceedingly glad because God has delivered them safely].974 Or like the young virgin who, despite the many dangers of courtship, is finally married in an honorable way and exclaims: ‘God hebbe danck; het is my wel geluckt’ [Thank God; I did succeed].975 Incidentally, this does not only apply to women; men are just as dependent on a favorable fate. Alberti, for example, in his Della Famiglia, has a young married man thank God for the favorable gift of a good wife. For such a gift does not speak for itself in life and is not given to every good man.976 Now this kind of question belongs to the ars bene vivendi, the field of practical ethics as it has existed since Aristotle and has been taken up again in Europe since the thirteenth century.977 It is about how one survives, how one lives with dignity, how one thinks to pass on life to the next generation, how one lives together with others, what place God has in life, what the meaning of existence is and how happiness can be realized. It is therefore vital to know what the good is and then to do it.978 Just as one must also know evil to refrain from doing it. The rationale behind knowledge of good and evil thus precedes the application of a conscious ‘morality’ or set of precepts.979 The art of well-living is all about turning this knowledge into deeds in a wise way. D.V. Coornhert, for example, in his book Zedekunst (The Art of Ethics, 1586) examines in six books what the art of living-well consists of.980 This art is not innate to the reasonable man, he says, but the voluntary learning of it is. ‘Myn voornemen is hier de kunste om wel te leven te beschryven. Die is een welgheschickte kennisse (macht hebbende door ghewoonte) om de gheleerde dueghde te volbrenghen; wie deze kunst heeft, die heeft het ware middel om dueghelyck te leven. Dueghdelyck leven is wel ende zaligh leven. Maar zaligh leeft hy die stadigh is in een ghenoechlycke luste. (...) Int wel konnen van deze kunste bestaat de dueghde, int qualyck konnen de zonde’ [My intention here is to describe the art of living well.The art is a wellordered knowledge (having power by habit) to accomplish the learned virtue; whoever possesses this art has the true means to live virtuously. To live virtuously is to live well and happily. Only he lives happily who is sedate in pleasant joy. (...) In knowing this art well, virtue exists, in knowing it ill, sin].981 When thinking about this art, an enormous amount is invested in the domestic domain. In practical terms an attempt is made to formulate a pattern of values that offers a foothold in the face of the vicissitudes of fate, which threaten to sweep away the ground under existence every day.982 The four writings I want to discuss comparatively below contain the same ingredients as Jacob Cats’ Houwelick. But they present them from different perspectives. The question is not whether or not Cats is familiar with these writings but what cultural transmission is taking place. Although Cats, as far as I have been able to discover, is not familiar with Alberti’s Della Famiglia, his own 152 work bears several similarities to this writing. In contrast, while he is very familiar with the work of Perkins and other English pietists, Cats has a different goal in mind. Viewed from the perspective of cultural transmission in early modern Europe, it is noteworthy that Le Ménagier de Paris as well as Fray Luis de León, Alberti, and Perkins (in addition to De Pisan, Van Schurman, and Coornhert) all attach importance, to a greater or lesser degree, to the layers I have distinguished in Cats’ work: the proper running of the household enterprise, the appropriation of knowledge, the choice of a suitable spouse for life, the pursuit of emotional peace in the house, and its situating in a spiritual context.983 In this section it is precisely about ‘the extent to which’ these aspects are put forward by the four authors, the goal they have in mind, the context in which this occurs and the composition in which they present it.984 Take, for example, the question of by whom a man can best be cared for in the event of illness. Should one secure his own existence and be cared for by his wife or by a faithful servant? One finds this question – already formulated by Theophrastus – not only in Cats’ Houwelick, but also in Alberti’s Della Famiglia and in The Book of the City of Women by Christine de Pisan.985 However, the responses of these authors differ. Unlike Cats and De Pisan, who argue that spouses should be able to rely on each other precisely in times of illness, Alberti defends the proposition that a sick man is better off with a faithful servant.986 His argument is that the wife is in danger of being infected, which has consequences not only for the sick man (who is therefore deprived of care), but also for the family as a whole.987 The interesting thing about this detailed question is that on the one hand it shows us what questions were apparently considered normal in the early modern period, while on the other hand it shows the diversity in the answers given. A first comparison of these four writings already indicates some differences. Behind Le Ménagier de Paris is an unknown author. He wants to initiate his future young wife in writing into the doings of a wise wife who knows how to manage his possessions (even after his death). The writing consists of three books: the first is devoted to the soul, the second to the household and the third to the beneficial use of leisure time. Alberti’s much more extensive writing is, as the title Della Famiglia suggests, dedicated to the management of the family in a broad sense. It is divided into four books in which he introduces male members of his family who discuss, in the form of dialogues, how best to maintain themselves as a family. Part I and IV are about the friendship between father and sons respectively between a man and other men outside the family (burghers, noblemen, sovereign). Parts II and III concern the household and the duties of the healthy, fruitful, devoted, thrifty and respectable master and mistress of the house. The work of Augustinian monk Fray de León, La Perfecta Casada is composed of twenty-two paragraphs commenting successively on verses 10-31 of Proverbs 31 (about the Good or Strong Woman).988 His work has been interpreted as ‘a manual 153 for the aristocratic couple’.989 Others argue that the work is representative of thinking about the division of labor in early modern Spain.990 The author addresses the woman, pointing out the duties assigned to her by God, and designates housewifery as a suitable path to holiness. Finally, Perkins’ point-bypoint treatment in his Christian Oeconomy defines in eighteen chapters the duties that family members should fulfill in the Christian household.991 William Perkins describes all this against the background of the mutual relations of authority between husband and wife, master and servant, father and child. According to this doctrine, marriage should be used to spread and promote religion. In the following I will mention some of the similarities of these texts with the thinking of Jacob Cats. The starting point in Le Ménagier de Paris is that the wife must obey her husband completely.992 Therefore, it is vital for a young woman to convince herself before marriage that she is marrying a good husband: Thus let a woman watch well how and to whom she shall be wedded, for however poor or lowly he may have been before, pathless for all time to come after the marriage, he ought to be and is sovereign and can increase or diminish all [that she hath]. Wherefore you should think rather of character than of fortune in your husband, for you cannot change him afterwards, and when you have taken him hold him in love and love and obey him humbly. For many women have made great gain and come to great honour by their obedience, and other by their disobedience have bene hindered and brought low.993 Once the marriage is established, she must blindly follow him in all his decisions and grant any possibly curious requests on his part. In order to imprint this indelibly in the young wife’s memory, the author tells in more than twenty pages Petrarch’s terrifying story of Griselda, a woman of low birth. Out of love for her husband of good birth, she renounces her two children and agrees to allow her husband to enter into a more appropriate marriage with another woman.994 Unconditional obedience, however, also provides the wife with a measure of protection. If she commits a sin for the benefit of her husband and with his approval, the responsibility lies not with her but with her husband. Moreover, it is an exemplum that endorses the need to conform to fate out of love for God. And notwithstanding the death of friends, the loss of goods and children and lineage, discomfiture by enemies, captures, slayings, losses, fire, tempest, storms of weather, floods of water, or other sudden tribulations, ever ought we to suffer patiently and return, join and recall ourselves lovingly and beseechingly to the love of the immortal ruler, eternal and everlasting God, by the ensample of this poor woman, born in poverty, of lowly folk without honour and learning, who suffered so much for her mortal friend.995 154 Given these conjugal and spiritual relations, the author of Le Ménagier de Paris gives three arguments for his writing. First, given the bride’s youthful age (she is only fifteen and he addresses her as ‘sister’), he considers it necessary to instill in her the necessary knowledge about the household. Good education, the reading of books and religious training are part of this.996 He himself is already old and he hopes that she can make his last years comfortable. Secondly, he believes that his writing may one day be of use to their children. Thirdly, he considers it an honor when she, at his instigation, becomes a worthy and wise mistress of the house, who after his death can serve her second husband in the right way.997 The more knowledge she gathers in her present marriage, the more praise she will receive from her second husband. Certainly, this last argument will be found rather shocking in modern times. Next, Le Ménagier de Paris distinguishes three areas of knowledge that are useful to the married woman: securing her soul’s salvation, doing the housework, and the proper use of her leisure time.998 In this writing, religion forms the framework in which all daily activities are carried out. The morning begins with the saying of prayers. These are fully incorporated into the text.999 Two of them are addressed to God (‘Lord Almighty’) and two to Mary (‘Holy Mother of our Lord Jesus Christ’ and ‘Honorable Virgin’). This is followed by the daily church attendance.1000 Dressed soberly and honorably, with dignified posture and accompanied by a chaperone, the married woman goes to church.1001 At Mass (which is explained step by step), the Gospel is read and the soul can raise itself to God.1002 During confession, which must be made immediately after committing a sin, the woman must tell everything, in the right order, stating the circumstances and in all humility to a trusted confessor.1003 The seven deadly sins (pride, envy, wrath, sloth, greed, gluttony and lust) and their seven curative counterparts (humility, amiability, gentleness, diligence, generosity, temperance and chastity) form for the mistress of the house the symbolic web within which she can judge the daily doings of herself and other household members.1004 Numerous evils that also play a role in Cats’ work are discussed in this context, although in Le Ménagier de Paris it is the Devil who besieges man.1005 For the wife, the day-to-day business consists of managing the household, the estate, livestock and crops included. This part of the domestic economy, according to Le Ménagier, falls entirely under her responsibility. He adds, in a similar way as Jacob Cats, the ‘art of gardening’.1006 She is assisted not only by staff (such as servants, chambermaids and farm workers) but also by two wise persons to whom she can delegate matters. An overseer assists her with regard to the estate, a wise woman of good standing assists her domestic affairs.1007 The mistress of the house, however, has the supervision.1008 She arranges for background checks on staff, has payments recorded, gives orders to subordinates (cleaning the house, managing food, cleaning textiles, making food for the sick, pickling), and has reports made on the products the estate provides.1009 She is also responsible for 155 the nightly closing of the house. Finally, a special task is to organize dinners for important guests. The writing therefore includes many pages of menus, recipes, supplies for the table, as well as directions to remedy bad taste and color of food or wine.1010 In case of illness of the staff, the wife of the house personally ensures their well-being. A wife who in this way manages her husband’s affairs in wisdom and brings peace to the house is worthy of her husband’s love.1011 Knowing what his wife gives him, he gives her his love, his loyalty, and his desire to be in her house.1012 Thus the wife is able to bind him to house and enchant him by doing him well in really every way: For whoever giveth all its pleasure to a bear, a wolf, or a lion, that same bear, wolf, or lion will follow after him, and so the other beasts might say, could they but speak, that those thus tamed must be bewitched. And, on my soul, I trow that there is none other witchcraft, than well doing, and no man can be better bewitched than by giving him what pleaseth him. Wherefore, dear sister, I beseech you thus to bewitch and bewitch again your husband that shall be, and beware of roofless house and of smoky fire, and scold him not, but unto him gentle and amaible and peaceable. Have a care that in winter he have a good fire and smokeless and let him rest well and be well covered between your breasts, and thus bewitch him. And in summer take heed that there be no fleas in your chamber, nor in your bed, the which you may do in six ways, as I have heard tell.1013 In Leon Battista Alberti’s Della Famiglia, the survival and growth of the family is paramount.1014 The humanist Alberti, whose discourse is constantly guided by statements of classical authors, operates within a Roman-Greek horizon.1015 Alberti considers marriage a precarious matter, not so much because the couple is eternally bound together, but because the demise or preservation of the family (its honor, house, possessions) hinges on the choice of a partner. When a young man reaches marriageable age and recoils from the curtailment that marriage will bring him, Alberti deems it wise to give him a helping hand. After all, from the family’s perspective, remaining unmarried is not an option. There are two ways to persuade the young man. First, the family members can try to convince him to marry, given their common interest, through financial support.1016 Second, the pressure can be increased by the father threatening to disinherit him. Finally, if the young man is convinced, Alberti says it is up to the female relatives to find a suitable partner.1017 All this does not mean that Alberti ignores love. On the contrary, he distinguishes several categories about which he elaborates for pages.1018 But the suitability of the prospective wife is considered first and foremost from the family perspective. After all, the preservation of the family requires that the prospective wife be fertile, obedient and of appropriate lineage. An unsuitable wife can do a lot of damage and jeopardize the future of a family. 156 When, by the urging and counsel of their elders and of the whole family, young men have arrived at the point of marriage, their mothers and other female relatives and friends, who have known the virgins of the neighborhood from earliest childhood and know the way their upbringing has formed them, should select all the well-born and well-brought-up girls and present that list to the new groom-to-be. He then can choose the one who suits him best. The elders of the house and of all the family shall reject no daughter-in-law unless she is tained with the breath of scandal or bad reputation. Aside from that, let the man who will have to satisfy her satisfy himself. He should act as do wise heads of families before they acquire some property - they like to look it over several times before they actually sign a contract. It is good in the case of any purchase and contract to inform oneself fully and to take counsel. One should consult a good number of persons and be very careful in order to avoid belated regrets. The man who has decided to marry must be still more cautious. I recommend that he examine and anticipate in every way, and consider for many days, what sort of person it is he is to live with for all his years as husband and companion. Let him be minded to marry for two purposes: first to perpetuate himself in his children, and second to have a steady and constant companion all his life. A woman is needed, therefore, who is likely to bear children and who is desirable as a perpetual mate.1019 The master of the house is responsible for the affairs of the family as a whole. He is the pater familias who uses all his innate mental and physical qualities to accomplish his life’s task.1020 His authority makes the household run: it is his concern to feed and clothe all family members and servants well but soberly and thus bind them to the house.1021 He must also guard against useless goods coming into the house.1022 He must manage the estate properly and harvest, store and possibly sell the crops produced there.1023 And do you know how to apply our system of good management to them? No differently than to ourselves: we shall employ them in honorable ways, put them to virtuous and valuable tasks, keep them healthy and contented, and see that no one wastes his time. And do you know how to be sure no one is wasting his time? (...) Rather, be sure each of them is doing what it is his business to do. See that the lady is watching over the children, seeing to the provisions, supervising the household, that the children are at work on their studies, that the others are trying diligently and well to do what their superiors tell them. Furthermore, he should ensure dignified naming of his sons. Alberti also stresses the importance of registering the newborn with his date of birth in his own family archive.1024 In addition, parents not only have the duty to bring offspring into the world, but also to educate them in the best possible way, to offer them education and to prepare them as well as possible for their future, so that they can later provide for themselves and the family.1025As a result, the father also shares in the anxiety and joy that comes with caring for children. Finally, he must protect his wife and has a duty to take good care of her. 157 Although the master of the house supervises the family as a whole, in Alberti’s case the mistress of the house also has numerous household duties similar to those mentioned by Cats and and Le Ménagier de Paris.1026 Alberti too criticizes the husband who refuses to delegate these tasks to his wife.1027 For example, she takes charge of the servants and diligently checks their doings in the house daily.1028 Everything that the master of the house brings into the house in terms of goods or basic necessities, she must organize and manage. Through the mistress of the house, this material part of the family’s future is ensured. Alberti gives a pagelong description of the order in the house.1029The servants also play a role in this.1030 I’m sure you realize, too, dear wife, that to lock up the chicks with the flax would mean trouble, to put oil in with the clothes would be risky, and to lock up things that are used every day in the house would be small wisdom. It is best therefore, not, as you say, to lock everything up properly, but to be sure everything is in its place as it should be and not just in its place, but so arranged as to do no harm to anything else. Everything should be set where it is absolutely safe, yet accessible and ready to hand, while encumbering the house as little as possible.1031 But in the case of Alberti, the mistress of the house is not given access to her husband’s business about the estate or family affairs.1032 One of her main duties is to provide for (especially male) offspring.1033 Because it is a vital but secret subject, Alberti dwells on the kind of medical advice around conception and childbirth that we already know from Cats.1034 Before conception, the spouses should be sober and as happy as possible. The best time for the act is not right after dinner or when it is too hot or when it is freezing. The pregnant woman should give birth in her husband’s house and not elsewhere. If the couple remains childless, sons may be adopted (according to a Roman military custom) in order to still ensure the future of the family.1035 Thus, according to Alberti, a couple’s childlessness is not a reason for divorce. This, it seems to me, is a most practical and legitimate custom, to adopt children born to others when you cannot have any of our own. I could give many arguments for it; but for brevity's sake I shall give only one: to avoid leaving a barren solitude, to prevent the decline of the family into emptiness and sadness one should legitimately adopt a son. ... Since adoption is almost the same as adding a new cousin to your relatives and a new member to your household, you should make your choice such that the family will readily accept him. It is wise to consult everyone, so that no one can afterward find fault with the person whom they themselves have liked and consented to accept; one should be careful to find one born of good blood and good character, a person of noble appearance and in other ways one whom the house will never regret with good reason.1036 158 But if the wife is stricken with an infectious disease, a man may leave her precisely because she threatens the survival of the family. Thus, it appears that both (in our view contradictory) opinions regarding the wife go back to family motives:1037 Kindness and human feelings have always been among the prime virtues of a noble mind, and it has always seemed the duty of a good person, the obligation of a just man, the aspiration of a generous one, to visit, help, and support one's kinsmen in every misfortune and need. Reason demands this much, and charity, humanity, and every habit of good men. But, it seems to me, it is hardly prudent not to avoid contact with persons to whom, because of a contagious and most dangerous disease, you can show kindness and be helpful only at the risk of your own health and your life. The laws permit, even in case of nonfatal contagion, that a man abandon the dearest thing and disengage himself from the first and best natural union of matrimony. If even the husband is allowed to leave a leprous wife, shall we assert that to leave a man with the plague is not legitimate? (...) It certainly seems most foolish wisdom not to prefer the certain survival of many healthy people to the dubious recovery of a single one. (...) The father should flee, the son should flee, the brother should flee, all should flee, because there is no help against this great poison, this great curse, except flight. Let them flee, since other arms or arts avail nothing against this evil. We cannot repel, we cannot hold off the fatal and hideous delirium. Wise men, therefore, will rather save themselves by flight than remain, not to help to bring destruction on their own heads. (...) What man of judgement, who cares about the welfare and safety of his family, would actually consider himself abandoned when he was given plenty of all the things which might help him in his need - doctors, servants, and medicines? In this way he may recover, while if his dear ones were near him he would not have a better chance of recovery, but he could quickly kill them. (...) I pray God it may never happen in our family that I shall be forced to act on it for the sake of the family's survival and welfare. Relationships with other men are very different from the love-based but strongly hierarchical relationship between the pater familias and his wife. According to Alberti, the man enters into equal relationships with other men that are based on formal respect, etiquette and dignified manners.1038 In the house, father-son ties and relations between male relatives are dominant.1039 Friendships with others, especially fellow citizens and princes, are acquired through theater and market visits, while attending receptions in private houses also provides good opportunities to do so.1040 Spiritually, Alberti's emphasis in the antique sense is on God as creator of Nature and marriage as a natural institution.1041 While the prayers Alberti mentions take place at important events such as marriage, they are tied to the context of the house. After the husband shows his new wife around his house, they address a prayer to God together. 159 When I had given the house over to my wife’s keeping, I brought her back to our own locked room, as I was saying. Then she and I knelt down and prayed God to give us the power to make good use of those possessions which he, in his mercy and kindness, had allowed us to enjoy. We also prayed with most devoted mind that he might grant us the grace to live together in peace and harmony for many happy years, and with many male children, and that he might grant to me riches, friendship, and honor, and to her, integrity, purity, and the character of a perfect mistress of the household. Then, when we had stood up, I said to her, “My dear wife, to have prayed God for these things is not enough. Let us also be very diligent and conscientious and do our best to obtain what we have prayed for...1042 In short, the master of the house, together with his wife and the other family members, has the task of using those divine gifts as best he can in the time that offers them life, for the benefit of the family.1043 Nature did not make all men of the same humor, or of the same intelligence, or will, or equally endowed with skill and power. Rather nature planned that where I might be weak, you would make good the deficiency, and in some other way you would lack thee virtue found in another. Why this? So that I should have need of you, and you of him, he of another, and some of me. In this way one man's need for another serves as the cause and means to keep us all united in general friendship and alliance. In contrast to the authors just mentioned, the Augustinian monk Fray Luis de León, in his La Perfecta Casada, believes that one must rank the marital state ‘in perfection below that of the virgins’. Only because of procreation (‘for the world most necessary’), did God exalt the marital state and place it alongside the others. Like Cats and Perkins, he refers to the story of Genesis to confirm the marriage instituted by God in paradise (and thus before the Fall).1044 For this reason, it is good that human beings live in couples.1045 Infertility is therefore a disgrace in De León’s thinking.1046 He underscores the symbolic status of marriage by regarding it, like Cats, as a reflection of the unification of Christ with His Church.1047 In the eyes of Fray de León, the housewife receives her vocation directly from God. She must submit to the multiple tasks of life that He places on her shoulders. To Him she must give account and He will offer her help.1048 The housewife must carry her own cross, just as the monk, the married man, the merchant and the soldier must carry their own cross before God.1049 A housewife who leads too spiritual a life and goes to church too often to pray, soon neglects the house and is, in De León’s eyes, just as much a monster as the nun who deals ‘with the concerns of a married man’.1050 Just as in nature monsters born with limbs and organs of different animals are not viable, so this monstrosity of different states of life in one person will not achieve its goal. And just as nature abhors such monsters, so God also turns away from them and abhors them. 160 The greatest sacrifice a housewife can make is not to take on the duties of a nun, but to give her life to her family.1051 ... I am only pointing out the difference that must exist between a good religious nun and a good married woman. For the former, praying is her only work; for the latter, praying must be the means to better accomplish her task. One has not wanted a husband, has forsaken the world and said good-bye to all people in order to be with Christ always and undisturbed. The married woman must turn to Christ to obtain from Him the grace not to be childless, to run her house well and to be, as is reasonable, at the service of her husband. The nun has to live in order to pray constantly; the married woman has to pray in order to live as she should. The nun pleases God by being with Him constantly, the married woman should serve Him by working on the running of her house out of love for Him. The greatest reward the housewife obtains is ‘peace, tranquility and the great prosperity’ in domestic life.1052 Therefore, a good wife is in every way a blessing for life on earth.1053 Bad housewives, on the other hand, face nothing but strife, bitterness, discord, poverty, and destruction.1054 De León bases his explanation of the duties of the Good Wife not so much on his own experiences but on Holy Scripture, although he too refers several times to ancient authors such as Xenophon, Aristotle and Plutarch.1055 ‘The Holy Scripture here descends so much into the smallest details, that it, as it were, enters her dwelling, gives her the needle in her hand, wraps the flax around the spinning wheel, and makes her move the spool between her fingers’.1056 Among the good works of the perfect housewife, De León counts the now familiar series of providing her husband with a home full of rest and peace, maintaining the livelihood he has won, being able to keep measure, bring order to the household and education, be good-humored, handy and able to supervise.1057 De León devotes comparatively few words to the married man. He too bears his cross but given his busy schedule it is not possible for the married man to organize his household. Therefore, he must marry a woman who can do this for him. The natural complementarity of man and woman (Cats, Alberti) is also present in De León.1058 Just as the streets, the squares, the places of entertainment outside the house, and the houses of others constitute the man’s domain, so the house is her domain. She watches over it, she raises its prestige, and she is naturally made for it.1059 The man can only hope that he will meet a strong woman on his life’s journey and rejoice in his wealth if he succeeds.1060 For a nature of so little permanence, as that which we call ‘woman’, does not undertake any business of great importance, nor does she bring about a good end, unless a force compels it, stirs it up and animates it, a force of almost unbelievable virtue, which has either been deposited in her soul by heaven, or given to her by God as a special gift. Therefore, we 161 must understand that she who overcomes her nature and emerges from it, like a river from its bed, has within herself a great disposition for good. Therefore, to praise the good woman with the greatest sincerity, the Holy Spirit does not call her ‘good’ as we would expect, nor does He say or ask, ‘Who will find a good woman?’ No, He calls her strong woman and uses a word, so powerful and so full of meaning, as the original saying.1061 As a life companion, offering him comfort, advice, entertainment, and help, she is a boon to his family and his possessions in all circumstances. The Good Wife, De León writes, is ‘not a woman, but an accumulation of riches,’ she is a ‘magic staff of virtue’.1062 However, the man who receives these gifts does not have the freedom to behave badly toward her.1063 On the contrary, only a virtuous and loving man will be rewarded with a good, that is, strong, wise, and astute woman.1064 So that he, who has a good wife, is not only considered happy because he possesses her, but is himself held as virtuous because he deserved to possess her. It follows that in many cases the lack of this gift is due to his own fault. For truly, the bad, licentious man, who has a difficult character and bad inclinations, who squanders his goods, who behaves like a wild animal in the house and indulges in fornication uninhibitedly, can nor should expect to be given a good wife. He does not deserve her, and God wants to spare the good woman the suffering of being associated with such an evil partner, and then also because such a man by his bad example and his unregulated life spoils and ruins her life. Finally, William Perkins, an English preacher, writes his Christian Oeconomy. Right at the outset he makes clear the stakes of his work. Christian Oeconomy is a doctrine of the right ordering of a family. The only rule of ordering the family is the written word of God (Psa. 101.2; Prov. 24.3).1065 The author systematically deals with his doctrine and related obligations in successive chapters: the family, the married couple, marriage as a contract, the choice of partner, the marriage ceremony, the consumption of marriage, the married person in general, the married man and the married woman in particular, parent and child, master and servant, master of the house and mistress of the house. For example, he defines the family as follows: A family is a natural and simple society of certain persons having mutual relations one to another under the private government of one. These persons must be at least three, because two cannot make a society. And above three under the same head, there may be a thousand in one family, as it is in the households of princes and men of state in the world.1066 And similarly, he determines how many partners a marriage should consist of: 162 Marriage is the lawful conjunction of the two married persons; that is of one man and one woman into one flesh. So was the first institution of marriage, which is expounded by our saviour Christ and also by Paul (Gen.2.21; Matt.19.26; Epgh. 5.31). Wherefor this is an eternal law of marriage, that two, and not three or four, shall be one flesh. And for this cause, the fathers who had many wives and concubines, it may be that through custom they sinned of ignorance, yet they are not in any wise to be excused.1067 The duties of the family are twofold. First, serving God, which is done not only by the domestic reading of the Word of God, but also by saying various prayers daily and thanking Him for His gifts. In the morning, prior to work, the family gathers for this purpose, and again in the evening after work, now to thank God for His blessings of the day. Further prayers are spoken before and after meals. Second, by serving the house which is done primarily by all family members using their talents for the benefit of the house.1068 Minutely and pointedly, Perkins explains, using scriptures, the Christian anchoring of the marital union. He considers marital union a more dignified state of life than solitude. He considers the ban on marriage for clergy instituted by the Pope of Rome a diabolical ruling.1069 Occasionally he refers to an ancient philosopher like Aristotle and ecclesiastical sources like Augustine and Peter Lombardus.1070 The Bible provides him with arguments for the institution of the first marriage (in paradise), the status of marriage as a contract (between two parties), for the equality of husband and wife, for the hierarchy between spouses and its purpose (procreation of the human species and a God-serving congregation, the prevention of adultery and the creation of a comfortable environment in which the married can practice their profession) and about the sinful or not sinful consumption of marriage.1071 In this framework delineated by biblical texts, Perkins makes it clear that married couples carry out several tasks. As master and mistress of the house, in which all these duties come together, both are thus mixed in nature: Thus much touching the divers and several combinations or couples belonging to the state oeconomical. From which do arise two persons of a mixed or compounded nature and condition, commonly called the goodman and the goodwife of the house.1072 Perkins designates the pater familias as the one who is by nature at the head of the household.1073 The husband indeed naturally bears rule over the wife, parents over their children, masters over their servants; but that person who, by the providence of God, hath the place of a husband, a father, a master in his house, the same also by light of nature hath the principality and sovereignty therein. And he is pater familias, the father and chief head of the family: to him therefore the true right and power over all matters domestical of right appertaineth. 163 Within the Christian Oeconomy, he is the one who acts as a religious leader. He is the head of the domestic church, presides over the family in prayer, accompanies them to church on Sundays, provides the basic necessities of life (food, clothing), maintains discipline in the house, and watches over the payment, health, and care of servants.1074 Within this, as a parent he has authority over his children, as a master power over his servants, and as a husband complete control over his wife.1075 Parents have a duty to raise their offspring well (religiously) and to take care of a good marriage partner.1076 But in each role he also has duties. As a husband, for example, he has two duties. His first duty is to love his wife as himself. He shows this in two ways: by protecting her and her possessions and providing for her livelihood.1077 The second duty is to honor his wife and in three ways: he regards her as his companion, he bears her weaknesses with wisdom and patience, and he endures being rebuked or advised by her at times.1078 For the wife, the mix is more heterogeneous. As wife, Perkins writes, she is subject to her husband to whom she owes complete obedience.1079 As mistress of the house, she provides support to the master of the house in his governance: The goodwife of the house is a person which yieldeth help and assistance in government to the master of the family. For he is, as it were, the prince and chief ruler; she is the associate, not only in office and authority, but also in advice and counsel unto him (1 Kings 17.17).1080 Two duties she has to fulfill as ‘mistress of the family’ or ‘goodwife of the house’. Besides distributing the food among the housemates, her main duty is to run the house. And this is so far as three things are concerned. The management of herself, the children and the maids: ... by exercising herself in some profitable employments for the good of her charge (Prov. 31.13); by appointing her maids their work and overseeing them therein (Prov.31.15); by ordering her children and servants in wisdom; partly by instruction, partly by admonition when there is need (Prov. 31.26-28; Tit.2.5; Acts 198.26).1081 Thus, Perkins, and with him several other Puritan authors, viewed the renewal and disciplining of the household under the direction of the master of the house as an opportunity for religious reform.1082 After this brief sketch of some other early modern conceptions, I come back to the vision formulated in many historical studies concerning the house. One often uncritically starts from notions like ‘huiselijkheid’ [domesticity, homeliness] or ‘gezelligheid’ [coziness, sociability] or from the idea that the early modern woman is ‘pushed back’ into the ‘private sphere’ of the house. Furthermore, I would like to give Cats’ Houwelick a provisional place in this early modern conceptual universe. 164 First, the issue of ‘gezelligheid’. The situation where housemates all stay under one roof is often understood in terms of emotional needs. Sociability thus takes on a snuggle, cozy, warm and homy connotation. But in early modern texts these motifs do not play a prominent role. When people gather around the same hearth or table, there are usually more practical goals at stake, as Alberti shows, for example:1083 Tell me (...), if it were night right now and dark and there burned a torch here in the middle of this place, you and I and these others would be able to see enough to read, write and do what we liked, is that not right? And if we were to separate, you over there, I upstairs, the boys elsewhere, and all wanted as much light a before to see by, do you think the pieces of this same torch which might have shared out among ourselves would burn as long a time as the whole torch in one piece would have? (...) And now suppose it were very cold and we had many logs burning here. If you wanted your share of them elsewhere, and these boys took their part to stil another spot, do you think you would keep warm better or less well? (...) Thus it is with the family. Many things are sufficient when unbroken that are insufficient when taken to pieces and widely separated. Keeping each other company, in Alberti’s view, is above all more economical (favorable distribution of lighting and fuel), more comfortable (lighter, warmer), than being alone. Moreover, one stays abreast of social occurrences through the conversations that inevitably take place when sitting next to each other. The texts of Alberti and his contemporaries, focused as they are on the survival of life with limited means, thus depart primarily from practical and external motives. Only when these things are no longer scarce, and everyone has sufficient light and warmth at their disposal do they sit together in a ‘cozy atmosphere’ for other reasons.1084 Then there is the painstakingly repeated idea that from the end of the Middle Ages women are pushed back from the public into the private sphere. The early modern treatises I mentioned do not support this idea. In them it appears to be mainly a more complex task that I have earlier referred to as the art of living well. The need to survive with dignity, the will to maintain and increase one’s possessions, and the desire to pass these values on to one’s children, manifest themselves in many written forms from the end of the Middle Ages onward. Common to these writings is that they offer a specific pattern of values and norms. The question of how that pattern relates to other phenomena in early modern Europe, such as urbanization, the rise of commerce, courtly-aristocratic manners, the influx of classical writings, the burghers as a new factor, the increasing mobility within Europe or even climatic fluctuations and epidemics – that is, the question of what the possible causes or consequences of this pattern are I will leave aside for the moment. A characteristic of these writings is that they strive to chart the well living. ‘Everyone must do his best’ writes Christine de 165 Pisan ‘to do the good, whatever may happen’.1085 All the works I consulted have this aspiration in common. What they also share is that they conceive of the house as a central place of peace and tranquility.1086 And finally, they all try to achieve their goal by appealing to the married man and woman for their (innate) potentials. Thus, a dual cultural strategy emerges from these early modern writings. They are directed at all those individuals who squander their innate talents, who are slaves to their own nature, and who thereby endanger their own survival in the short or long term. Both men and women can go through life in this sloppy way. Moreover, in doing so, they can also harm others.1087 Both are criticized for it. De Pisan, for example, calls a wandering and undisciplined woman a ‘monster of nature’.1088 The man who obeys only his fiery nature, she considers equally a lamentable creature. Man and woman who disregard each other’s gifts she calls ‘unnatural’.1089 Both need to be protected from themselves, so that they can use their innate gifts and lead a praiseworthy life. But although this aspiration affects the two sexes, in practice it does not work out the same way for husband and wife. The husband does not automatically regard marriage as a desirable goal, as Alberti has already shown. He must be convinced that he must take on this task and learn to share joys and sorrows with his wife.1090 Bestowing dignity on the married man (primarily by his spouse, but also by the family and the commonwealth) is necessary to enable him to return to the house without loss of face and with his head held high. Only with this granting of praise and dignity can the married man, who for centuries has been portrayed primarily as a brave knight and courageous hero, maintain his standing as a man.1091 This dignity is independent of his actual effort. Sometimes he is a complete master of the house (Alberti, Perkins), sometimes he leaves his wife in charge of house and hearth, cattle, and crops (Le Ménagier de Paris). And one also finds a certain balance between strict authority and shared responsibility. In this way the inborn powers at the man’s disposal can be made productive.1092 He is the one who acquires property and income, he protects his wife from other men, and he ensures that his offspring can be educated. The flip side of this strategy relates to the woman. She should focus her talents on the survival of herself and her offspring. She must strive to give birth to children and take care of property. But the woman can develop her talents only if she is protected from dangers. Men in particular pose a danger to her. De Pisan confirms what we have encountered with other authors and what recurs in the stories of Lucretia and Suzanna. Men are by nature attracted to all types of women. Whether women are unchaste or virtuous makes little difference to men: women are, in effect, outlaws.1093 A woman can arm herself against such hostilities in various ways, according to early modern authors. The enclosure of the woman and her activities guarantee in particular her safety and freedom of action and thought.1094 With De Pisan this ‘vrijplaats’ [sanctuary, refuge, free 166 haven] takes the form of a town in which married women live, with other authors it is primarily the marital house. The married man always acts as the guardian of her freedom.1095 The authors attribute to him the responsibility to let his wife go through life not as a slave, but as a ‘vrije huisvrouw’ [free, liberated housewife].1096 The wife can give her husband a helping hand (as we have seen in Cats and also in Le Ménagier de Paris) by binding him to the house in all kinds of ways. A second means of protecting women from the temptations and lusts offered by men is for them to learn to read and write or otherwise develop their talents.1097 By combining the two civilization strategies, the two separate characters who squander their talents and risk their lives can be offered a way out that has future. By forming a couple, by compensating for each other's weaknesses, they both stand a better chance in the struggle of early modern existence.1098 As part of a married couple, both partners are better off, according to our early modern authors. They bind themselves to the house, can procreate and grow their possessions. The ‘domesticated’ man, while maintaining honor and dignity, can monetize his talents and grant freedom to his wife in the house. The ‘learned’ woman, while maintaining her shame and morality and investing her talents in the household enterprise, can bind her husband to the house.1099 The variety of examples shown, indicates how much effort is required to (in Cats’ words) ‘bijschaven’ [polish] the woman and the man entering marriage. For example, in his Trou-ringh, Cats introduces an old widower (Sophronicus) who, in his conversation about marriage with a young man (Philogamus) who is still unmarried, says the following: Ick oordeele dat die gene, die haer ten houwelijcke begeeven, behooren te doen, als de gene, die haer tot eene reyse buytens lants gaen stellen, de selve sien niet alleenlijck eerst in haer gedachten, maer oock op de Kaerte alle de wegen, bergen, en rivieren daerse door hebben te reysen, al eerse van huys scheyden. ‘t Zijn wilde menschen, die huysen bouwen van boomen, soo als die in de bosschen afgehouwen werden, dat is, met schorssen en quasten. Ick, in het tegendeel, wil niet als een boom, maer als een balck, gebruyckt werden in ‘t gebouw van ons Vaderlant, dat is, ick wenschte wel in de gelegentheyt van ‘t houwelick te komen niet rau en onbesnoyt, maer ge-effent, geschaeft en gesuyvert van de quasten der jonckheyt.1100 [I judge that those, who are preparing for marriage, ought to do, as those, who are preparing for a foreign journey; they see this journey before they depart from the house not only in thought, but they see on the Map all the roads, mountains, and rivers through which they must travel. Only wild people, build their houses from trees, as they are cut down in the forests, that is, including bark and tassels. I wish, on the contrary, not to be used as a tree, but as a beam in the building of our Fatherland, that is, I do not wish to enter the state of marriage rough and unpruned, but levelled, planed and cleansed of the tassels of youth]. 167 The means the authors provide for the married woman to work her husband in such a way that he ‘op eervolle wijze’ [honorably] and ‘uit vrije wil’ [freely] desires to return to the house, range from serving him a good meal, showing him a cheerful face, providing him with every convenience, or receiving his guests well. They encourage the married woman to exercise ‘zacht geweld’ [gentle violence] (Cats) and ‘te beheksen’ [bewitch] him (Le Ménagier de Paris).1101 Only when the married man learns the benefits of his own house will they outweigh the temptations of elsewhere. Then other places of amusement will appear to the married man as ‘dark prisons and strange places, compared with their own, which will then be a paradise of rest unto them’.1102 Despite this shared aspiration in the early modern era, the authors assume different balances. How this balance plays out depends on the emphasis one places given the pattern of values in which it is embedded. The ‘composite nature’ of the master and the mistress of the house, as described by Perkins, and also demonstrated in the studies of Kelso, Hoffmann, and Maclean, provides ample opportunity for this. Undeniably, all the authors discussed so far assume that both sexes differ in their innate qualities. All also assume the pater familias as the head of family or household. Furthermore, the Christian religion is also an undeniable dimension in these writings. But given Nature as a self-evident basis, the conjugal relationship of authority and the position of God, different configurations can arise. One can emphasize the married woman’s own dignity as a ‘housewife’: as mistress of the household enterprise (Alberti and Cats) or even as mistress of the estate as a whole (Le Ménagier de Paris). Equally, it appears possible to emphasize the housewife and her domestic activities as merely the means of accomplishing her part in God’s Creation (Fray de León) or as merely the instrument for spreading God’s Word (Perkins). The variation in ‘wellevenskunst’ [the art of living well, ars bene vivendi] that we thus find among different early modern authors is not so much a reflection of regional contrasts in European culture as a refinement of cultural combinatorics based on shared details.1103 If this differentiation teaches us one thing, it is that in the early modern period, people found different answers to the collective question of how to optimize the chances of survival of women and men (at least conceptually) by tying them to the house. The antique heritage forms the shared framework within which this conceptual movement takes place. In this respect, Jacob Cats’ work constitutes only one of many configurations possible – but his vision stands out in the way he pursues equality between the sexes in marriage, intelligently making use of their innate differences. 168 3.2.3. Practicing the Eloquent Mean On one of the first pages of the first volume of All the Works is a remarkable portrait of Jacob Cats (bp.3.34.3). It stands out from two others. First, from his portrait at the age of fifty-seven on the title page of volume I (bp.3.34.1). There his bust is framed in a circle of thirteen allegorical figures, including the nine Muses or song goddesses. Each figure has a banderole or wimple bearing the title of one of his works. In the background are depicted Mount Parnassus and the horse Pegasus.1104 Cats is presented here as a poet. Witness a reference by Philip Angel in his treatise on the art of painting (1642), Cats is considered a ‘Hollandsche Homerus’ [Dutch Homer].1105 The second portrait is on the title page of volume II (bp.3.34.2). Twelve putti frame Cats’ portrait at the age of seventy-seven. In classic fashion, they accompany him in the last stage of his life.1106 They too wear banderoles with the titles of Cats’ works. Both portraits are similar: they show a calm face from chest up, with the right shoulder turned forward. In the earliest portrait the clothing is dignified, with collar and fur, in the second portrait the clothing is sober, and Cats wears a ‘keppeltje’ [yarmulka]. How different he presents himself as a ‘Ridder’ [Knight], ‘Raadpensionaris van de Staten van Holland’ [Grand Pensionary of the States of Holland] and Curator of the Leiden Academy with which the presentation of his Complete Work in volume I begins (bp.3.34.3). This third portrait shows his upper body with part of a column on the right in the background. With his left shoulder turned forward, Cats wears a toga draped over the left shoulder and hanging in large, full folds. His face is serious and his left hand, at rest in front of the chest, grips the fabric. The right arm points forward in a quiet gesture, revealing the opened hand. Thumb and index finger of his right hand are spread in a fluid motion, the other three fingers slightly curved. It is the gesture, posture, and dress of an orator at the start of his speech.1107 Now it is certain that rhetoric plays a role in the work of Jacob Cats. As a lawyer, he was very familiar with the construction of a legal plea.1108 Rhetoric also occupies a prominent place in seventeenth-century poetics.1109 The two fields have been intertwined since classical antiquity. The purpose of eloquence is to win the audience over to the view held by the orator, speaker, or writer. As far as Cats is concerned, we are now familiar with the content of his views. What he has to offer his fellow countrymen are insights that are as appropriate as they are classic with regard to the conjugal state. These insights benefit working life in the house, life in the commonwealth, and inclusion in the Christian universe.1110 But Cats considers a good presentation of this material at least as important. His poetry, therefore, distinguishes him from most of the other works on the art of living that I have cited above, which are in prose.1111 Witstein notes the following about this: ‘In the midst of all these scholars, Cats occupies a place all his own. He places his poetic talent at the service of his not inconsiderable knowledge of 169 the marriage question, and the prevailing Horatian conception of poetry as an art of appropriately blending utility and aesthetic pleasure enabled him to realize his plans. He casts his useful knowledge in an agreeable form and gives the contemporary question of marriage a wide distribution by dressing it up in a nice and well-set narrative in alexandrines, whose never-failing cadence almost compels one to read on effortlessly’.1112 Without striving for completeness, I will explain some of Cats’ most remarkable poetic tactics. I will begin with the most salient phenomena, to descend into details. First, he engages the reader in his argument. Second, he places accents that reinforce the chronological structure of the Houwelick. Third, he regularly interrupts his argument with a telling interlude. And fourth, Jacob Cats shows himself a master in fine tuning the details to the level of the verse. Finally, I will address the mental state of ‘de middelmaat’ [the golden mean] brought about by Cats’ complex tactics. Jacob Cats speaks himself out several times about how he is trying to achieve his goal. He wants to make the reader think and give him thoughts about his own marriage.1113 Unlike most writings on marital housekeeping or matrimonial relations, the prose in the Houwelick is limited mainly to the preface to the various parts. But the vast majority consists of poetry. Cats has a wide range of means at his disposal ‘om de geest te ver-maken’ [re-make, re-shape the mind].1114 With rhetorical, poetic, and visual means he launches thoughts, sets thinking in motion, keeps the reader focused. The means he employs, he emphasizes, do not constitute fixed truths. It is precisely their elasticity and flexibility that makes them useful.1115 The same example, the same aphorism, the same parable or proverb can be used to raise different issues and ‘fits’ on different occasions.1116 On this point, he refers to the Bible, where he observes a similar usage. For example, in the Bible the lion is depicted as Christ, but sometimes the animal refers to its opposite (the Devil). Something similar applies to leaven: sometimes it stands for sin, sometimes for the gospel. The thief and the serpent also carry opposite meanings.1117 In the Houwelick, Cats addresses the reader in several ways. He dedicates his work primarily to women, but he also recommends his work to men, youngsters as well as old people.1118 It is notable that in doing so he uses every day and easily understood language. This choice is also rhetorically motivated and is related to the subject and thus the genre being practiced.1119 A distinct technique is the changing of the narrator’s perspective. In the first two sections of the Houwelick, he employs the dialogue form – for example, the conversation between a younger and a wiser virgin (Anna and Phyllis) or between a young spinster and a newly married young woman (Sibille and Rosette). The dialog is a common form also used by an author like Erasmus. This allows the arguments to be addressed alternately and forcefully by either character.1120 In the other four chapters, Cats 170 acts primarily as the ‘narrator’ who addresses the female character in question directly: to the bride, the wife, the mother, the widow with the elderly woman. Once in a while he speaks explicitly to the man, especially when it comes to his conjugal duties as a husband (towards his wife) or as a father (towards his daughter). Furthermore, in the chapter ‘Vrouwe’ [Wife] he inserts several pages in which he speaks through his wife Elizabeth.1121 Here, the text reminds the married woman of her marital duties when her traveling husband is absent. In this way, Cats temporarily keeps himself aloof from a matter that does not concern the husband. Not he, but his wife, as a good friend, gives the married woman good advice. Finally, he organizes a certain invisibility when he introduces himself in the guise of the ‘pen’ that writes faster and faster and pushes the thoughts further and further.1122 In addition to using a direct form of address, Cats attempts to make the reader benevolent, by directing attention, and pointing out to the reader the instructive nature of the argument.1123 In doing so, he makes use of an emotional technique to get the readers to pay attention. Take, for example, the beginning of ‘Kinderspel’ [Children’s Play]. There, Cats addresses his readers by saying that they will probably laugh because of the weighty attention he pays to such an insignificant subject as children's play: the girl playing with a doll or the boy hitting his spinning top. ‘Lach maar’ [Laugh all you want], says Cats, ‘het is jullie wel gegund’ [you deserve it].1124 By addressing the reader through an amusing issue, he brings the reader mentally into a state of benevolence. This ‘ver-maken’ [remaking] of the mind is thus placed in the service of knowledge transfer. Now that he has their attention, he can entice them to think further.1125 Although child’s play seems meaningless, Cats continues, it is merely a world in miniature. And vice versa: although the world seems meaningful, it is only child’s play. He resolutely rounds off ‘Child’s Play’ by briefly summarizing what was discussed. He ends with the conclusion that from all simple, ordinary, and foolish things wisdom and benefit can be drawn. In this way, Jacob Cats imposes his conditions upon the reader. With his introductory and enticing lines, he creates the position from which the reader will start. The reader is touched, emotionally affected, regardless of what his feelings or ethical views on the subject are. This rhetorical tactic of ‘movere’ [moving the reader] shows up more often in the Houwelick. Sometimes it is compassion, for example, when he addresses the mother (and thus the reader) first through a smile, then through the moaning of a young born.1126 Het was u groote vreugt eens binnen u te dragen Iet ick en weet niet wat, dat noyt de menschen sagen, O! nu het u besiet en op sijn moeder lagt, Soo laet uw moeder-sugt vernieuwen hare kragt; Wil uwes eygen vleys en uwer vrugt erbermen, Nadien het teer gewas tot u begint te kermen, 171 Tot u sijn handen reyckt, en klopt aen uwe borst, Om daer, gelijck het dient, te laven sijnen dorst. [It was a great joy once to carry within you Something, I know not what, that men never saw, O now it looks upon thee and smiles upon its mother, Let thy motherly affection renew its power; Have mercy on your own flesh and your fruit, After the tender plant begins to moan at thee, Stretching out its hands to thee, knocking at thy breast, To satisfy its thirst there, as it should]. Elsewhere, it is the tears that well up, as with the elderly woman who must say goodbye to the husband with whom she has been bound all her life or the widow who feels her end approaching and finally calls her husband, children and relatives to her and bids them farewell.1127 Maar boven dat de mensch sijn leden voelt bederven, Soo siet hy menigmael sijn naeste magen sterven, Hy siet hoe Godes hant hem in den boesem tast, Hy siet hoe sijn verdriet geduerig hooger wast, Hy siet een schoone jeugt, in plaetse van te spelen, Gaen treuren door het huys, of aen den viere quelen, Hy siet een weerden vrient bevogten van de doot, Hy siet en aerdig kint hem trecken uyt den schoot: Wat sal in dit gevaer, en diergelijcke saecken, Een lieve moeder doen, een weerde vader maecken? (...) Neen, droeve moeder, ween; daer is een wettig treuren, En meest, wanneer de doot ontgrendelt uwe deuren; God wil niet dat de siel in druck en sware pijn, Sal hart, gelijck een steen, of ongevoelick sijn (...) Gy, laet u niet te seer van treuren overheeren, Uw kint is in de rust, het kan niet weder-keeren; ‘t Is nutter dat het oog om eygen sonden schreyt, ‘Als om een dooden vrient, die in der aerden leyt. Gy, weest doch niet te droef, en niet te seer verbolgen, Maar stel u liever aen om wel te mogen volgen.1128 [But except that man feels his members decay, He often sees his nearest and dearest die, He sees God’s hand touching him in the bosom, He sees how his grief is continually growing higher, 172 He sees a beautiful youth, instead of playing, Go grieve through the house, or suffer at the hearth, He sees a valuable friend fought by death, He sees a kind child pulled out of the womb by death What will in this danger, and similar matters, A dear mother and a worthy father do? (...) Nay, sad mother, weep; there is a valid mourning, And most, when death unlocks thy doors; God would not have the soul through grief and heavy pain, Be hard or insensible as a stone (...) You, do not be overpowered by weeping, Your child is at rest, it cannot return; It is better for the eye to weep for its own sins, Than for a dead friend lying under the earth. Thou, be not too sad, nor too angry, But rather be ready to follow]. Evoking sadness and joy are not the goal for Cats. Not only because he constantly alludes to new life that will appear after death – the deathly winter already harbors new life, the bird Phoenix can only bring forth life through death, and the miraculous kingdom of heaven only comes to life after death.1129 But mostly because Cats uses them as means to invite the reader to think further. The lesson learned at the end of the Houwelick takes the form of a catharsis. At the end of life, joyful events leave nothing but good memories of a time well spent.1130 Given the daily struggle for existence, with all its discomfort, adversity, and loss, it is wise to make good use of the time one is given in order to allow the soul to grow. Thus, at the time of death, when the spirit is renewed and has come to full bloom, one is able to separate from earthly life.1131 Not fearful or embittered, but detached, one lays down, stretches one's members, and surrenders to death with eternal salvation in mind.1132 Thus, in this epilogue, Jacob Cats closes the many circles and rounds off his discourse of the Houwelick layer by layer. If the reader is inclined to read the work, he is served both by a clear exposition and by poetic embellishments.1133 For this reason, Cats includes an intermezzo from time to time. To this end he borrows memorable histories and exempla from other authors, stories which by their similarities clarify the matter and are at the same time pleasant and amusing to read.1134 Also, in his opinion, comparisons based on minor matters can lead to wisdom.1135 Finally, he considers engravings eminently suitable for awakening a powerful imagination in the reader at special moments and thus underscoring the argument. The pleasure of an image is greater, he notes, when it is a previously unseen depiction.1136 This powerful potential of the image, however, led Cats to decide precisely not to include prints of copper 173 plates with narrative highlights in his Trou-ringh, because in his opinion those images would reduce the brilliance of the text material as a whole and thus from the reader's enjoyment.1137 The construction and chapter arrangement of the Houwelick primarily follow the chronology in the woman’s life. Starting with the child’s play of fresh youth, the work ends with the aging widow preparing for death. The actual apotheosis of the Houwelick has already taken place in the previous part of the ‘bedaeghde huys-moeder’ [elderly house-mother]. Thus, in terms of content, there is a feedback to the ‘Children’s Play’, but also in terms of form, it rhymes.1138 The use of this quasi-automatic sequence is part of a deliberate strategy. Adriaen van de Venne’s depiction of the tableau of female characters in the form of a mountain is a variant of the usual and well known ‘levenstrap’ [Steps of Life] (bp.3.19.3, bp. 4.168.1-2). He too depicts human life as climbing from birth to the top – marriage with children – and then descending to death.1139 As a binder between the four independent chapters (bride, wife, mother, and elderly housewife/widow), Cats deploys various means to keep the reader on track. For, as Cats says elsewhere, man prefers not to delve into all sorts of important matters of his own accord and so it is useful to give the reader a helping hand.1140 Each of the four chapters begins with a combination of an engraving and a text. Four times they show a different landscape with a couple under a tree. Through mirroring and substitution of details (a building, a water garden, figures, flora, and fauna) they are variations of the same composition. The main distinction is the season: Bride-Spring, Woman-Summer, Mother-Autumn and Elderly Housemother-Winter (bp.3.35.1-4). Now these metaphors are by no means new, but as a transition to a subsequent narrative and as a reference to the progression of life, they are effective. The accompanying verse lines evoke a parallel imagination but add elements to it. Colors set accents (green, gold, blue, and white), temperature becomes palpable (coolness of May, warmth of the sun, coldness of freezing weather), and sounds resound (birds chirp, flowers burst open, fertilized branches hang heavy, ice crackles). The sun follows its orbit in the sky and time rounds the year.1141 With these evocations, Cats also makes the other senses sensitive and thus complicit in convincing the reader. Throughout the work, such details continue to resonate and tighten a web of sensitive expectations. Because, shortly after the start of each chapter, a second voice enters, a certain harmony can arise. The chronology of women’s lives is, superfluously it seems, linked to the course of the day. The four figures of bride, wife, mother, and aged housemother are successively compared to God’s Creation of the Light (1), the dawn with the rising sun (2), the twilight that announces the evening (3), and finally, when the sun has completely disappeared (4), the sleep that brings rest.1142 Thus, Cats switches the image of conjugal life (housewife, mother, and aged woman) to the image of the unfolding day. He stages the daily life of the couple as 174 a theatrical play that begins with the opening of the curtains in the morning and the closing of them in the evening. In fact, he thus places the spouses in three interrelated circles: in God-created Nature, in the visible light, and finally in the house itself. Thanks to such plastic, almost sensory images, Cats manages to evoke a very tangible imagination of marriage. In the loose strokes with which he sketches the scenes, one can easily recognize images of everyday life in the house. As a result, especially from the nineteenth century onward, his work has often been understood as a photographic representation of everyday life in the seventeenth century. Feelings of intimacy, coziness, and snugness have nestled as independent entities in the reception of Cats’ work. Based on the effects, one confuses the ends and the means. In other words, the motivating means used by Cats to achieve his goal (namely, to induce the reader to consider his views on marriage), and the rhetorical techniques to structure or dress up the story, have come to be seen as the content of his argument (namely, to offer a moody glimpse into the reality of the time). Thus, the fact that this view was held in later times depends primarily on one’s attitude toward his rhetorical devices. This does not diminish the persuasive effect of his text; it only confirms it. In my view, the use of these means is part of a rhetorical seduction strategy. At its core, it is a subtle tactic to hold the reader's attention. Let me elaborate on how this tactic does its job. In the first part of this chapter, I broke down four layers in Cats’ depiction of perfect marriage. He often treats the subject matter at length and with circumlocution. He returns to some points frequently. Given his goal of convincing the reader of the praiseworthiness of divine marriage, this is also in line with expectations. Of importance is the way in which Cats includes countless details, how he arranges the elements page by page. In doing so, he repeatedly uses an intermezzo that keeps the momentum going. In his Houwelick, for example, he performs with some regularity personifications of abstract concepts. These include virtues and vices, such as Wisdom and Folly, Fame, and Luxury.1143 In an allegorical narrative they come to life. For example, Cats interrupts his advice to the husband to never treat his wife as a slave with the introduction ‘de Yversucht’ [envy] or ‘jalousie’ [jealousy].1144 He describes this allegorical character in all its plastic details and physical capacities. Her head, face, eyes, ears, and other limbs are only made to stir up the whole house writes Cats. She lurks, runs, rants, churns, prowls, and flies through it all. She brings about rumors, evil suspicions, backbiting, lying, shock, hot revenge, sleepless nights, cunning and deceit.1145 Cats presents the ‘jealousy’ as a guise in which all these evil qualities are condensed. This is a figure that causes unrest, ruins the spirit of the spouses, and muddies relations in the house.1146 The advantage of such a materialization of the ‘vice’ is that it appeals directly to the imagination. As a personification, the ‘Yversucht’ can mingle ‘among the 175 housemates’ and interact directly with them with all the consequences that this entails. More generally, the exempla that Cats gives have the advantage of being a shorter, effective, and memorable way to achieve the proposed goal. For this reason, Cats says he regularly chooses this path over the longer, more systematic, and scholarly explanations.1147 The elimination of vices is easier to imagine when they are embodied in a figure, similar to the male and female characters in the house: as an unwelcome guest, ‘de Yversucht’ can be expelled from the house. Cats follows a similar line of reasoning in his defense of the usefulness of proverbs. Thanks to their concise form and visuality, biting truths can better penetrate the brain or be retained there. Thus, they awaken the mind and pave the right way to an appropriate, regulated, and wise life.1148 Old wisdoms and cleverness are thus better absorbed than many wise books and also awaken deeper thoughts. ‘Datse, mids de spitse haerder scherpheyt, krachtelijck door-dringen in de gemoederen der menschen, latende in de selve als seeckere weer-haken, dienstigh tot opweckinghe van dieper bedenckinge, als wel voor eerst daar in scheen te schuylen’ [Because, by the perspicuity of its sharpness, it powerfully penetrates into the minds of men, as a kind of barbs, which are useful for arousing deeper reflections, than before seemed to be hidden therein].1149 As condensed conceptions they are carried through time and allow knowledge to accumulate.1150 Among the many other examples that Cats brings up are quite a few histories that he borrows from other writers, but which he retells at length in his own words.1151 The accompanying images further evoke the entourage through their choice of material - classical architecture, outlandish crops, exotic clothing (bp. 3.36.1-2, bp. 3.37.1-4, bp.3.38.1-4). His Houwelick offers Biblical and classical stories in abundance. Sometimes there is a certain alternation between material and exempla, sometimes there are few or no examples to be seen, and then again it is a coming and going of various glimpses into other times and places. For example, he has his digression on jealousy followed by a narrative borrowed from Ovid about the Athenian princely couple Kephalos and Prokris. After mistrust and suspicion have taken hold and adultery has been provoked, it is finally Kephalos who accidentally kills his wife while on the hunt.1152 Cats then adds three more classical tales, borrowed from Plutarchus and Tiraquel, among others. Again, there are unintentional deaths. Leuconis, because she distrusts her husband when he goes out hunting. She spies on him and is bitten to death by his hunting dog. The beautiful and virtuous Justina is killed by her husband out of sheer jealousy. Incidentally, Cats later tells the story somewhat differently.1153 The beautiful virgin Justina is killed by an ugly man, who, after peeping at her, feels his honor violated because he realizes that she will never be his. And finally, Cats introduces Cotys who, overcome by jealousy, tears off his wife’s arms.1154 In Trou-ringh Cats explains this working method: through a varied treatment of the same subject matter, the reader is continually stimulated to think new thoughts about it. 176 Moreover, give the many narratives, everyone will find something to their liking.1155 In this way Cats uses numerous biblical histories, such as the story of Moses, Abigail and Nabal, Sarah, Agar and Abraham, Laban, Joseph and Potiphar, Jacob, Lea and Rachel, Samson and Delilah and, of course, of Adam and Eve.1156 He also retells classical stories and tells about Amphion and Zetho, Andromache and Hector, Helen and Paris, Cupid and Venus, but also about the Nymphs, the Sabine maidens, Medusa and Odysseus.1157 He also includes histories (about the Lombards, the Goths, the Franks) (bp.3.39.1-3), or ‘vreemde gevallen’ [strange cases] from which he suggests a more recent origin.1158 When it is a commonly known story, he indicates the plot with only a few stanzas. That of Procris, Justiana, and Leuconis, for example, in the Houwelick includes only four verses each.1159 In other cases he is much more elaborate, and an extensive history takes up several columns. Such as his account of husbands and the consequences of adultery during the time of the Turkish empire. The husband, who forgives his wife and thus saves her from certain death, then indulges in adultery himself. His wife, however, grants him no forgiveness and beheads him single-handedly.1160 Yet the Houwelick also contains incidents that he presents as having experienced himself.1161 For instance, in the ‘Vryster’, Cats tells how seeing a rowing girl in Leiden made him think that there is a difference between the goal that someone has in mind (namely to reach the other side of the canal) and that which the eye is actually directed at (the girl sees only the disappearing other side, since her back is turned to the approaching quay).1162 Another time he explains on the basis of a sad accident that has come to his ears (a newly married couple drowning together before the wedding night), that such a marriage, although not yet consumed, is legally valid and therefore the dowry must be paid.1163 The most plastic excursions in the Houwelick are the engravings. An engraving is included of the aforementioned ‘rowing virgin’, for example. (bp.afterword.4.1). The framework is presented as a window through which one can glance. This impression is created by the light and shadow effects of the border, which suggests a certain depth. Such ‘raamverbeeldingen’ [window pictures] can be found in many variants in Cats’ oeuvre (such as bp.3.40.1-3, bp. 3.41.1-3, bp. 3.7.1-4). They are best known for their penetrating presence in the emblem collections, such as Proteus, Emblemata Moralia et Oeconomica, and the Spieghel van de Oude en Nieuwe Tijt. But in the Houwelick they occur just as much. Sometimes an inscription is included, sometimes the edge is almost flat with a marbled, wood- or brick-like veneer, sometimes medallions are added in the four corners. The engravings are condensations, bringing together multiple dimensions on the flat plane.1164 Even more than the text, the visual register can bring together the most diverse ‘worlds,’ an aspect to which I will return in more detail in Chapter 4. Human 177 figures stand alongside personifications of virtue and vice, as well as natural phenomena such as wind and echo. Indigenous and exotic flora are mixed, familiar animals and fabulous beasts intermingle. Here crocodile, elephant, lion, monkey, and turtle, elsewhere spider, dog, horse, and chicken with chicks (bp. 3.41.1-3). An everyday domestic scene and a classical setting are blended, supplemented or not by artificial additions such as hanging curtains, winged cupids-with-arrow-and-bow, or hands embedded in clouds (bp.3.41.4-6, bp. 3.42.1-2).1165 The ‘zinnebeelden’ as Cats calls these window pictures, are saturated with meanings. They serve, he explains, to spiritually set the reader on a different course.1166 Cats puts honor in simultaneously playing on a textual level, the three registers that Aristotle already distinguished in life (pleasure, dignity, and contemplation).1167 This makes the emblem a polyphonic score that appeals to different senses.1168 As condensed mottoes, the emblems encompass a wide range of wise and joyful reflections with something for everyone.1169 Cats defends this use of allusive emblems with a reference to similar mottos in the Bible.1170 First and foremost, they are intended as ‘wisselgeld’ [change], an attractive tool by which the imagination is directly evoked.1171 These ‘vermakelijke prenten’ [entertaining, re-making engravings] are thus tools in a process of reflection.1172 But this ‘zinnebeeld’ is also an intermediate product of the shift that is taking place in early modern thought – an issue I will return to in the next chapter. Compared to these condensations, the rectangular engravings without decorated moldings in the Houwelick (and in the Trou-ringh) are often more limited in their references. They are merely ‘illuminaties’ [illuminations] of what is told in the narration anyway. I would like to conclude this section with some remarks on the ‘middelmaat’ that Cats advocates in an ethical sense. To understand this, we must descend one last step and see the way in which Cats deploys his rhetorical abilities at the lowest level of the text: the arrangement of the arguments, the cadence in metre and rhyme, and the choice of words in individual lines of verse. The first part, the book about ‘Virgin’ and ‘Spinster’, consists of verse lines of four jambs. The rest of the Houwelick is set in alexandrines (lines of six syllables).1173 His method generates a complex pattern of repetition and reversal, parallelism and crossing of elements that is mostly hidden from view by the chronology of his narrative. Of this complexity I will cite only a single example. Indeed, the ability of the human brain to process many different pieces of information ‘while reading’ at the same time stands in stark contrast to the cumbersome exposition required to analyze this process. It must therefore be confined to a single grasp. At the outset of ‘Vrouwe’, Cats recounts how the newly married woman, after getting up in the morning, begins to carry out her duties in the house. He posits several propositions in quick succession in the first columns: 178 1) The place of woman and man should be clear; 2) The woman must incline towards the man 3) Man and wife should become a couple 4) The man must take into account the woman 5) Woman and man love each other for God’s sake These are central conceptions that will be repeated throughout the rest of this part of the Houwelick. On the one hand these propositions are interspersed with theses about ‘human being in general’ which raise the whole argument to a higher level.1174 On the other hand, Cats underpins the central theses by detailing arguments pro and contra. At the micro level the same arguments, sometimes concisely forged into proverbs and sayings, keep rearing their heads. Cats’ central theses are not only reinforced but also nuanced throughout the text. A wife should incline to her husband, but not when he makes mistakes. A husband may be the head of the conjugal union, but he must leave his wife in her right. Moreover, the alternating sequence of the propositions makes clear the pattern that Cats is so fond of using: couple (1), wife (2), couple (3), husband (4), couple (5). This alternation alone makes the threads between husband and wife inexorably incorporated into the fabric of marriage in which the couple (as a span) occupies a central place. Cats weaves a tapestry of local patterns made in a similar way. For example, the sequence ‘slechte man’ [bad husband] (pp. 316-317), ‘slechte vrouw’ [bad wife] (p. 317), ‘slecht, onevenwichtig span’ [bad, unbalanced couple] (p. 318), ‘goede vrouw’ [good wife] (pp. 318-319), ‘een knoop van zoete min’ [a knot of sweet love] (p. 320), ‘kwade wijven’ [evil wives] (pp. 321-322), ‘goede man’ [good husband] (p. 322), ‘edele, wijze vrouw’ [noble, wise wife] (p. 323). This sequence finds its provisional conclusion (‘als de zon is van de kim gevloden’ [when the sun has flown behind the horizon], p. 324) when Cats holds up a mirror to the young woman and advises her to make an inward examination (pp. 324-325). Then (after a blank line) a new sequence kicks in, this time with the observation that harsh action by women only stirs up the untamed senses of men (pp. 325-326). The system of alternating combinations has been elaborated by Cats in a very subtle way and determines down to the smallest aspects the color contrasts and the shades of his text. Although he hints in passing that none of this is a coincidence, it is only in the analysis that the extent of his interventions becomes clear. I will explain Cats’ working method on this point below. A first example comes from the ‘Bedaeghde Huys-moeder’, in which she is compared to the beautiful Helena.1175 The first stanzas concern the endless growth of some crops and animals: Is ‘t niet een seldsaem dingh? daer is een ruymer leven Aen menigh dom gewas, aen menigh beest gegeven; Besiet den harden Pijn, den Ceder en de Mast, 179 Besiet den Qualster-boom die sonder eynde wast, Besiet den wilden Olm ten hoogsten opgedreven, Besiet den steylen Esch tot aen den hemel sweven, Besiet hoe Dennen-hout tot in de lucht belent, En dat geen Eyck en sterft, die haren planter kent: Treet vorder in het wout, en let op alle dieren, Die fris en onvermoeyt ontrent de bossen swieren: De Krayen in de lucht, de Harten op het velt, Die hebben menigmael tot hondert jaer getelt: Den Raven, leelijck dier, en hare swarte veeren En konnen boven dat geen duysent jaren deeren; [Isn’t it a rare thing? There is an abundant life Given to many a dumb crop, to many a beast; Behold the swift Pine, the Cedar and the softwood Mast, Behold the Qualster tree [woody nightshade] that washes without end, Behold the wild Elm that is pushed up high, Behold the steep Ash flying to the heavens, Behold the Den that rises to the sky, And that an Oak, knowing its planter, does not die: Enter further into the forest, and watch all the animals, That fresh and tirelessly roam the woods: The Crows in the air, the deer in the field, They have aged for a hundred years: The Ravens, ugly animals, with and their black feathers Can live up to a thousand years]. He then poses the question of why precisely these creatures are given the divine gift of a high old age while human beings (here enacted in the person of the beautiful Helena) must shrivel prematurely: Waerom een schoone vrou, waerom de kloecke mannen Soo haestigh in het graf, en uyt’er tijt gebannen? Waerom doch is de mensch soo veerdigh uyt-gebloeyt, Daer ick en weet niet wat soo lange jaren groeyt? Waerom een frisse maegt, het ciersel aller saecken Van dat’er eertijts was, of dat’er is te maecken, Waerom haer blijde verw, haer oogh en roode mont, Geen langer dag verleent, geen meerder tijt gejont? Ick ben noch heden tot geen tachtigh jaer gekomen, En my is alle glans alreede wegh-genomen; Siet! wat een kleyne tijt mijn krachten heeft gevelt, Mijn geesten uyt-geteert, mijn luyster af-gepelt: 180 Ben ick, ellendigh wijf! soo menigmael gepresen? En voor de schoonste vrouw met vingers aengewesen? [Why a beautiful woman, why the brave men So hastily into the grave, and be banished from time? Why yet is man so soon bled out? While all kinds of things, I know not what, grow for so long years? Why a healthy virgin, ornament of all things Of what was before, or what is to be made, Why her happy color, her eye and red mouth, No longer day is granted, No more time is given? I have not yet lived to be eighty years old, And all my glory is already gone; Behold, what a short time has felled my strength, My spirits weary, my lustre peeled off: Am I, wretched woman, so often praised? And as most beautiful woman pointed with the fingers? On the next page (p. 409), Jacob Cats revisits the issue and also resolves it, albeit that certain adjectives have changed places. After many lines of poetry in which the protagonist complains of, among other things, weakening limbs, fading colors, and her toothless mouth, there follows a caesura, in which Cats argues that the soul grows larger as the body withers. And then suddenly there is a return to the foregoing: ‘t Is waer, dat beesten selfs de menschen over-leven, En met een langer jeugt in alle velden sweven; ‘t Is waer, dat in het wout veel oude boomen staen, Maer als haer val genaeckt, dan is het al gedaen; Dan is haer wesen uyt, en, die soo lustig schenen, Verdwijnen uyt het oog, gaen in het duyster henen, En liggen alle tijt begraven in der nagt, Soo dat haer lange jeugt niet eens en wort gedagt. Maer schoon dat aen den mensch is korte tijt gegeven, Hy sal geduerigh sijn, en sonder eynde leven; Want als het aerdsche deel genaeckt sijn eerste stof, Soo bloeyt de reyne siel in Godes eeuwig Hof; Dan is ‘t dat eerst de vreugt, die noyt en is begrepen, Na druk, en tegenspoet, na duysent harde nepen, Haer glans, en hoogsten wensch, haer volle maet bekoomt, Wat dient, ô Christen hert, wat dient’er dan geschroomt? 181 [It is true, that beasts survive even men, And with a long youth in all fields wander; It is true, that in the forest many old trees stand, But when its demise approaches, then it is all done; Then her essence is gone, And, who once seemed so alive, Vanish from sight, pass into darkness, And from now on lie buried in the night, So that its long youth is not even remembered. But though man is given a short time, He shall endure, and live forever; For when the earthly part returns to its first substance, Then shall the pure soul bloom in God’s eternal Garden; Only then does the joy, which was never understood, After trouble, and adversity, after a thousand heavy burdens, Obtains its brilliance, and highest wish, its full measure, What then, O Christian heart, is the use of being timid?] So now the roles are reversed. Whereas before it was the trees and the birds that reached into heaven while man was nothing, now the trees and the beasts are nothing and it is man who soars higher. This is followed by two columns in which the soul grows almost indefinitely, finally ascending to the heavenly Jerusalem: Maer eeuwigh is een Vak, een afgront sonder palen, Oneyndigh van begrijp, daer in de sinnen dwalen, Daer in verloren valt, en niet ter werelt geldt, Schoon iemant hondert jaer, of hondert duysent telt. O leer, mijn siele, leer geduerigh overleggen Wat eeuwigh wel te sijn, wat eeuwigh is te seggen, Wat eeuwigh al bevangt, wat eeuwigh al bedeckt, Wat eeuwig, eeuwig is, waer eeuwig henen streckt. [But eternal is a Field, an abyss without stakes, Infinite in extent, in which the senses wander, Therein falls lost, and nothing of the world is of value anymore, Though one count a hundred years, or a hundred thousand. O learn, my soul, learn, learn continually to consider What eternal good is, what eternal really means, What the eternal all encompasses, What the eternal all conceals, What eternal, eternal is, To what eternal ever stretches]. Apart from the supporting strength of repeating a word (eight times ‘eeuwigh’ [eternal]),1176 a line of poetry, of moving exclamations (‘Siet!’ [See!], 182 ‘Ach!’ [Oh!], ‘Eylaes!’ [Alas!], ‘Ay my!’ [Ah me!], ‘O!’ [Ow!], ‘Fy!’ [Shame!]) or a combination thereof, Cats makes use of opposing pairs.1177 At will he combines high/low, woman/man, good/evil, dark/light, old/young, fresh/wrinkled, weakstrong, sweet/bitter, sour/sweet, raw/ripe, foolish/wise, pure/dirty, hot/cool: ‘Het soet versagt het suer, het suer dat wett’ het soet; Soo is ‘t dat de kock de sauce mengen moet’['The sweet softens the sour, the sour sharpens the sweet; Thus it is that the cook should mix the sauce].1178 He varies and scatters the opposites seemingly at random throughout his text. Sometimes he takes them literally and sometimes he applies them in a metaphorical sense.1179 The result, however, is powerful. Not only can different types of female and male characters be modulated (the good woman, the bad woman, the good man, the bad man, the effeminate man, and the man-woman) depending on the characteristics he bundles together.1180 The ambiance in which a character is placed and especially the way it is articulated have far-reaching effects on the determination of the character’s value. In the succession of verses, for example, Cats ingeniously organizes (apart from the subject matter he intends to deal with) a strong contrast, as in the following lines, in which light is contrasted with dark, and high with low: Wanneer de schoone Son met haer gulde stralen Koomt, als een bruydegom, uyt hare kamer dalen, Of dat de klaare Maen, en al het sterre-ligt Vertoonen aen het volck een aengenaem gesigt, Ons siele wort te recht met vreugden overgoten, En siet! ‘t is maer de kas, waer binnen is gesloten Dat over-schoon juweel, dat God versegelt houd; Tot eens de reyne Bruyt met haren Schepper trout. Wel aen dan, Christen hert, en laet u niet versagen Noch door uw kranck gestel, noch van uw leste dagen; U dient noch wacker oog, noch oore toegestopt, Schoon dat de bleecke doot voor uwe deure klopt; Het schricken is vergeefs, het sugten is verloren, Gij sijt’er toe gemaeckt, gy sijt’er toe geboren, Het moet al in het graf, al in het duyster gaen Wat hier beneden wort beschenen van de Maen.1181 [When the beautiful Sun with her gilded rays Comes, like a bridegroom, down from her chamber, Or when the bright Moon, and all the light of the stars Show the people a pleasant sight Is our soul rightly poured out with joy, And see! it is but the chest, where within is confined That exceedingly beautiful jewel, which God keeps sealed; 183 Till once the pure Bride marries her Creator. Well then, Christian heart, be not anxious Nor by your feeble constitution, nor by your last days; You must not close your waking eye, Nor your ear, Though the pale death is knocking at your door; The fear is in vain, the sighing is idle, You were made for it, you were born for it, All must go into the grave, all must go into the darkness Everything down here that is lit by the Moon]. The text oscillates back and forth between extremes, whether violent contrasts between brilliant light and terrifying darkness, between heavenly heights and grave-like depths, between bright colors of purple, red, green, or gold and the pale dullness of gray hair and white bones. Young, fresh sparkling youth versus huddled, aged souls, ferocious forests with wild beasts versus quiet peace in the house with wise husbands. And then suddenly there is a temporary resting point, an oasis of silence, in which the verses babble on, with ‘ick en weet niet hoe’ [I don’t know how] and other stopgaps. Sometimes, too, the argument is suspended, or better, told again, but in a different way, via the sidetrack of a biblical history or an everyday comparison. A reverie that ends with a new question, a new issue, a new matter, that urgently needs to be discussed. Then the pace picks up again and another marital confrontation is conjured up before our eyes. The reader is literally ‘ver-maakt’ [entertained, re-made, transformed]: by reading, the reader has experienced a mental change. In the mind, a transformation has taken place. After almost two hundred pages of going from one extreme to the other, ‘de middelmaat’ – which Cats occasionally praises as a good quality of married people – has become apparent to the reader him/herself in the experience of reading.1182 The somewhat tepid and bland explanation Cats gives of his proposition ‘Ick wensch een wijf van middelmaet’ at the beginning of the chapter on the ‘Bruid’ [Bride] (bp.3.43.1), is dwarfed by the effects he manages to evoke in the reader with his rhetorical and poetic techniques, in the spirit of Aristotle.1183 After the succession of stormy, poignant, joyful and hurtful events that take place in and around the house, the reader can only wish for the peace and quiet that Cats designates with the term ‘middelmaat’. By this term he does not mean an exact, measurable equality of the two spouses, nor a point that lies exactly in the middle between two extremes, nor the contemporary meaning of ‘middelmatigheid’, [mediocrity].1184, on the other hand, is interested in the status of two extremes and the attuned, proportional measure that springs from them: the Aristotelian ‘golden mean’.1185 In the previous sections of this chapter, we saw that Cats takes the pronounced and natural asymmetries between woman and man as his starting 184 point and then seeks a system of balanced relations. The ‘middelmaat’ is then the balance (Cats speaks of ‘evenaer’ [equator]) between the different forces acting on man and woman. Not eliminating the forces but letting them do their work for the benefit of the whole – that’s what it’s about.1186 ‘Wil man, wil echte wijf vervullen haren plicht, Sy dienen even staegh te sitten in ’t gewight’ [Will husband, will married wife fulfill her duty, Then they must be permanently balanced].1187 The tranquility and peace that Cats relentlessly covets is the temporary balance or harmony between the two spouses who always keep an eye on the proportions. Rhetorically, the Houwelick can be called a political plea in the Greek sense of the word. Perfect marriage is a matter that concerns the commonwealth. In this, Cats’ Houwelick is the opposite of a ‘marriage manual’ or etiquette book in the modern sense.1188 Such books give advice ‘how things should be’, precepts that one, as a sensible person, follows and carries out. Such a label, however, does not apply to this work by Jacob Cats. Cats’ alleged moral admonitions are not commandments or prohibitions in the strict sense. When he writes what a woman should do or what a man should try, when he exhorts a young spinster or prays a suitor, he wishes his readers to ‘leren met reden overleggen’ [learn to deliberate with reason]. He provides the readers with all kinds of arguments that can be of service in contemplating and determining one’s own position (‘Elck Spiegele hem selve’ [Everyone reflects given their own situation]).1189 He is not concerned with setting norms, but with learning a pattern of values through constant rumination of the daily material he provides.1190 ‘Wil je voordeel? Lees met oordeel’ [Want benefit? Read with judgment] (bp.3.44.-3).1191 Actually, the concept of myth as defined by Claude Lévi-Strauss offers a better description of Cats’ Houwelick. The myth presents the dilemmas facing a community. The questions of life are incorporated into thought by testing and trying out logical possibilities. The contradictions articulated by the myth provide insight into the limits of the conceptual universe of the community in which it circulates. In this way, the myth makes explicit problems that exist in reality, and that are not (yet) solvable in the real world. A fictional space and a virtual time are created while telling the story, in which cognitive experiments are carried out. One of the functions of these fictional trials is that the reader explores the mental landscape and that failures that follow from the proposed staging are acknowledged. ‘Such reflections (...) do not attempt to portray what is real but try to justify the shortcomings of that reality because the extreme positions are presented only to indicate that they are not maintainable. This step, typical of mythological thinking, establishes (though it is done in the veiled language of myth) that social facts are marred by an insurmountable contradiction. A contradiction that neither society nor the hero (...) can understand and therefore wants to forget’.1192 And so it seems to be with the work of Jacob Cats. His verses demonstrate a ‘collective thinking’ in the Dutch early modern period.1193 185 The works of Jacob Cats were widely purchased and featured different types of editions for the upper and lower classes, each with its own illustrations (bp. 3.45.1-2).1194 Much viewed, much browsed, they were presumably also much read and thought through. In the eighteenth century, Cats’ work, now provided with simple woodcuts, was transformed, like other ‘well-to-do “bourgeois” literature’, at least in execution and visual lore, into a “volksboek” [folk book]’.1195 His work was reprinted well into the nineteenth century. Still in the seventeenth-century spelling, sometimes in vernacular editions without pictures and in other cases, as, for example, in J. van Vloten’s 1862 edition, provided with new steel engravings by J.W. Kaiser (bp.3.45.3-6).1196 Scholz has shown that the visual substitution taking place in the nineteenth century indicates a mental transformation. The teleological understanding of the seventeenth-century engravings (namely, that the world should be read as the book of Nature) has shifted to a teleological reading of the nineteenth-century image (namely, that truth can be read from a work of art).1197 Criticism of his poetic style accompanied Cats’ work from the late seventeenth century onward, as 1 showed in section 1.1.2. It stemmed from academic views of the primacy of rules, the sublime nature of poetry and its exemplary, civilizing function. In the same way that French classicism created a new framework in architectural thinking, there was also ‘a movement that would implement an artistic regulation in drama and literature with iron-fisted consistency’.1198 In all kinds of keys this echoes far into the nineteenth century. Van Vloten still records remarks by Justus Van Effen in the Hollandsche Spectator of March 3, 1732.1199 Cats’ style is too rambling and unforced, too overloaded with stopgap and too little filled with “Poetic divine language”’.1200 But, adds Van Vloten, echoing Van Effen, ‘Cats is niet hoogdravend en moet dat niet wezen, dewijl zijn onderwerpen die verhevenheid niet vereischen: liefdesgevallen, zinnebeelden, fabelen en zedenlessen een harnas aan te jagen en een bulderende taal te lenen, is niet min bespottelijk als een schoolmeester met een roode, geborduurde rok en een hoed met pluimen op te tooyen’ [Cats is not pompous and should not be, because his subjects do not require that loftiness: to impose a suit of armor on love stories, emblems, fables, and lessons in morality, and to confer a roaring language, is as ludicrous as to adorn a schoolmaster with a red, embroidered skirt and a hat with plumes]’.1201 Classicist criticism did not prevent people from continuing to read his work. But towards the end of the eighteenth century, Cats’ work does acquire a different place in a culture that has itself also undergone changes. In classicist literature, the pursuit of a natural balance in the reader disappears; it is replaced by a ‘psychological-emotional didacticism that functions through the audience’s empathy with the behavior of exemplary characters’.1202 But also, at the end of the eighteenth century, scholars try to name the traits of the Dutch national character 186 and do so in terms of soil conditions, temperament and way of life. ‘Uit dit temperament vloeit ook voort, dat hij [de Hollander] liefhebber is van een stille, bezadigde levenswijze, en van geregelde zeden, godsdienstig, weliswaar over het algemeen zeer op zindelijkheid gericht’ [From this temperament it also follows that he [the Dutchman] is a lover of a quiet, sedate way of life, and of regulated morals, religious, although generally very much oriented towards cleanliness].1203 In this context the house is also revised. The ‘house’ is given a different conceptual layout and composition. ‘The eighteenth-century pursuit of perfectibility took increasingly concrete shape after the turn of the century in the “imagined community” of the Golden Age ancestor, whose morality in particular became an inspiration. The purified feeling after past horrors reinforced the need for “vergenoegdheid” [contentment]. And the desired peace of mind and inner satisfaction, besides being the result of the inner harmony of “head and heart,” was increasingly co-determined by the harmonious cohabitation of the nuclear family [‘gezin’]’.1204 The Houwelick that Cats presents as a school of learning for a balanced conjugal life, in which both the natural attraction and the household enterprise, both the passions and spiritual dialogue, play a central role, and which can thus bear fruit as the core of the commonwealth – was, as it were, turned inside out. Later, in the nineteenth century, this perception becomes even stronger. When Van Vloten defended his re-publication in 1862, two hundred years after the death of Jacob Cats, the writer was remembered as a bold, energetic, and wise man. In that capacity he is transformed into ‘den dichterlijken grootvader van ‘t Nederlandsche volk’ [the poetic grandfather of the Dutch people]. Apparently, there is a need, writes Van Vloten, for his ‘sneeuwwitte lokken, aan de kruin, door het fluweelen kalotjen voor wind en weder gedekt, aan de hooge jaren en den ernst, dien zij medebrengen’ [snow-white locks, on his crown, protected from wind and weather by the velvet calotte, and the high years and the seriousness they bring].1205 One still reads his work, but now completely inwardly. ‘Zijn “stille, geregelde, huiselijke poëzy” verklaart ons wellicht volkomen’ [His ‘quiet, orderly, homely poetry’ may explain us perfectly], Van Vloten writes, ‘de onmiskenbare graagte, waarmeê men bij voortduring, naast het boek der boeken, het zijne aan den huiselijken haard heeft opgeslagen, om er aannemelijke wenken van levensbestier en stichtelijke woorden van stervenstroost uit op te garen, of ook wellicht in enkele trekken van minder stichtelijken inhoud een lustige tijdkorting te zoeken’ [the unmistakable eagerness with which, in addition to the book of books, one has continually opened Cats' book at the domestic hearth, in order to glean from it plausible pointers to life management and edifying words of consolation in dying, or perhaps to seek a cheerful shortening of time in a few lines of less edifying content].1206 This in fact created an entirely new Cats which – at least according to my judgement – little to do with thinking about the house, marriage and household enterprise in the Dutch seventeenth century. 187 COMPARATIVE RESEARCH EARLY MODERN ARTS [translated] dr. Heidi de Mare 2018 • ‘’t Is kunst te leven. Vroegmoderne verbeelding van duurzaam samenleven’, in: G. van den Brink (red.), Waartoe is Nederland op aarde? (Boom): 117-142. PDF + Beeldkatern PDF ‘“The Art of Living Well”. Early Modern Imagination of Living in a Tenable Way’ (2019). PDF + PDF Images 2017 • ‘Het beeld als bron. Een beschouwing naar aanleiding van recent onderzoek naar Het straatje van Vermeer’, in: Tijdschrift voor historische geografie, no. 4 (2017): 248-259. PDF ‘The Image as historical source. Contemplation in response to recent research on The Little Street by Vermeer’ (2019). PDF 2016 • Review. The Technical Image. A History of Styles in Scientific Imagery, H. Bredekamp et al. (eds.), The University of Chicago Press 2015, in: The Journal of Design History, N.Y.: 93-95. PDF 2012 • ‘Vindplaats van het huiselijk leven. Het kamergezicht in de Hollandse Gouden Eeuw’, in: Historisch Tijdschrift Holland, Jaargang 44, no. 3, themanummer ‘Huiselijkheid’: 110-118. ‘The Finding Place of Domestic Life. The Chamber Scape in Dutch Golden Age’ (2018). PDF 2009 • ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. De kunst van interdisciplinair onderzoek’, in: Kunstlicht, Jubileumnummer ‘Kunstgeschiedenis & Interdisciplinariteit’, vol. 30, no. 3-4: 90-99. PDF ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. The Art of Interdisciplinary Research’ (2009) PDF 2007 • ‘Johannes Vermeer: migratie van een icoon’ in: J. van Eijnatten et al. (red.), Heiligen of helden. Opstellen voor Willem Frijhoff, Amsterdam: 198-214. PDF ‘Johannes Vermeer: migration of an icon’ (2009) PDF 1999 • ‘Domesticity in Dispute: A Reconsideration of Sources’, in: I. Cieraad (red.), At Home. Anthropology of Domestic Space (2e druk 2006). New York: 13-30 PDF; Farsi (2017). 1994 • ‘A rule worth following in architecture? The significance of gender in Simon Stevin’s architectural knowledge system (1548-1620)’, in: E. Kloek et al. (red.), Women of the Golden Age. Hilversum: 103-120. PDF 1993 • Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands. Historical contrasts in the use of public space, architecture and the urban environment. Bundel, redactie samen met A. Vos (Van Gorcum Assen), met bijdragen van P. Burke, R. Ingersoll, A. Blok, W. Frijhoff, K. Wuertz, F. Bollerey & A. Reijndorp. 1993 • ‘The Domestic Boundary as Ritual Area in Seventeenth-Century Holland’, in: H. de Mare and A. Vos (eds.), Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands. Van Gorcum Assen: 108-131. PDF. ‘Die Grenze des Hauses als ritueller Ort und ihr Bezug zur holländischen Hausfrau des 17. Jahrhunderts’, in: Kritische Berichte. Zeitschrift für Kunst- und Kulturwissenschaften, 4 (1992): 64-79. PDF • ‘Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands’, with A. Vos, in: H. de Mare and A. Vos (eds.), Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands, Van Gorcum: 5-25. PDF 188 COMPLETE BIBLIOGRAPHY cum laude Dissertation 2003 [including SUMMARY]: PDF References Chapter 3, a selection Sources Chapter 3 Alberti, L.B., I Libri della Famiglia 1434-1443. Angel, P., Lof der Schilder-Konst 1642. Facsimile Amsterdam 1972. Aristoteles, Ethica. Ethica Nicomachea. Blankaart, S., De Borgerlyke tafel. Om lang gesond sonder ziekten te leven. Mitsgaders een beknopte manier van de spijsen voor te snijden, en een onderrechting der schikkelijke wijsen, die men aan de tafel moet houden 1633. Facsimile Amsterdam 1967. Cats, J., Alle de werken, I & II (in this Chapter referred to as ADW I & II), reprint 1712, facsimile 1978. Cats, J. Alle de werken, I & II (ed. J. Van Vloten), Illustrations by J.W. Kaiser. De Erven J. Tijl, Zwolle, 1862. Digitale bibliotheek voor de Nederlandse letteren: https://www.dbnl.org/tekst/cats001jvan02_01/colofon.php & https://www.dbnl.org/tekst/cats001jvan03_01/colofon.php Cats, J., Sinne- en Minnebeelden 1618-1627, in: ADW I, pp. 1-106. Cats, J., Emblemata Moralia et Oeconomica 1627, in: ADW I, pp. 107-152. Cats, J., Houwelick, dat is, Het gansche Beleyt des Echten-Staets; Afgedeelt in ses Hooft-stucken, Te weten Maeght, Vryster, Bruyt, Vrouwe, Moeder, Weduwe, Behelsende mede de Mannelycke Tegenplichten 1625, in: ADW I, pp. 235-424. https://www.dbnl.org/tekst/cats001houw01_01/ Cats, J., Spiegel van den Ouden en Nieuwen Tyt. Van nieuws oversien, vermeerdert en verbetert. Elck Spiegle hem selven 1632, in: ADW I, pp. 477-666. Cats, J., ‘Voor-reden’, in: Trou-ringh 1637, ADW II, pp. A2-B3 recto. Cats, J., ‘s Weerelts begin, Midden, Eynde, Besloten in den Trou-ringh met den Proef-steen van den Selven 1637, in: ADW II, pp. 1-270. Cats, J., ‘Gront-houwelick. Dat is: beschrijvinge van d’eerste Bruyloft, gehouden in den paradijse, tusschen Adam en Eva, eerste voor-ouders aller menschen’, in: Trou-ringh 1637, ADW II. pp. 1-14. Cats, J., ‘Liefdes Vosse-vel. Proef-steen op het Trou-geval van Faes en Alette’, in: Trou-ringh 1637, ADW II, pp. 259-267. Cats, J., ‘Lof-sangh op het geestelick Houwelick van Godes Soon’, in: Trou-ringh 1637, ADW II, pp. 219-252. Cats, J., Ouderdom, Buyten-Leven en Hof-gedachten op Sorghvliet 1653-1655, in: ADW II, pp. 273-348. Cats, J., Invallende Gedachten op voorvallende gelegenheden ca. 1654, in: ADW II, pp. 391-418. Cats, J., Afbeeldinge van het Huwelick, en `t geen daer ontrent is, onder de gedaente van een Fuyck 1642, in: ADW II, pp. 453-460. Cats, J., Dood-kiste voor de levendige, of Sinne-beelden uyt Godes woordt ca. 1647, in: ADW II, pp. 461-526. 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Zwaan, T., ‘Families, huwelijken en gezinnen: een introductie’, in: T. Zwaan, Familie, huwelijk en gezin in West-Europa. Amsterdam/ Heerlen 1993, pp. 11-37. 201 Notes Chapter 3 1. Cats lived with an older brother and two sisters in the parental home at 7 Noorddijk Street. 2. Ten Berge 1979 (emphasizing Cats’ Catholic education); Boekema Sciarone 1978 (emphasizing Cats’ the Protestant view). 3. Thus Ten Berge 1979; Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 30; Kluiver 1978, p. 49 with reference to Cats’ autobiography. 4. Incidentally, he enrolls under his mother’s name. 5. Ten Berge 1979; Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 30; Carter 1974, p. 102. 6. Ten Berge 1979, p. 58. 7. Ten Berge 1979, p. 23. 8. Ten Berge 1979, p. 25 points out the possibility of quinine in this drug. 9. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 25-26. Cats lives there at 11 Lange Noordstraat. 10. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 29-31; Struik 1979, p. 78. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 33 notes that Jacob Cats, like Isaac Beeckman and hydraulic engineer Jan Adriaansz. Leeghwater, were concerned with ‘new mill techniques for even more efficient drainage of the polders’. 11. Ten Berge 1979, p. 103; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, p. 19. 12. Ten Berge 1979, p. 29: ‘... re-diking of those lands, which were tithe-obligatory or belonged to the Flemish clergy. The company took over the rights of the abbeys of Saint Baaf and Saint Peter in Ghent, the chapter of Tournai and the hospice Comtesse in Lille, to which [the said] foundations were subject’. Frijhoff & Spies 1999, p. 19. 13. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 29-30. 14. Cats was 27 years old and Elizabeth 26 (she died on 11 January 1631). Ten Berge 1979, pp. 27-28; Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 30. 15. Ten Berge 1979, p. 27. 16. Ten Berge 1979, p. 34. And this was in 1607, just before the birth of his eldest son. 17. Johannes (1607-1618). Helene, Elisabeth I and Cornelis all died younger. Anna married Cornelis van Aerssen in 1630 (1637-1651 stadtholder and bailiff in Breda). Elizabeth II marries in 1636 with Cornelis Musch, then 44 years old, ‘notorious registrar of the States General’ (died in 1650). Elizabeth remarried in 1652 to Dirck Pauw. Cats had fourteen grandchildren. Ten Berge 1979, p. 173; Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 31; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, p. 35. 18. Ten Berge 1979, p. 32: ‘That estate lies on the Seisweg in the village of Grijpskerke’. 19. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 33-34 and 262-267 emphasizes that his extended family, especially his brother's, is crucial to his life at this time. 20. Ten Berge 1979, p. 69ff. 21. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 101-102. Dutch ships became the victims of the encounter between England and France and Cats had to negotiate about the confiscated ships and goods. He also had to defend the execution in the East of English pioneers on Ambon in 1625 by J.P. Coen. 202 22. Ten Berge 1979, p. 104: Prince Maurits had the previous Grandpensionary Van Oldenbarnenveld put to death. He was succeeded by Adriaan Pauw, but after Maurits’ death (1625) he was sent by Frederik Hendrik on a diplomatic mission to Paris. 23. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 113, 143. 24. Ten Berge 1979, p. 130 designates his position as ‘chairman’. 25. Frijhoff & Spies 1999, p. 79. 26. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 130 and 161 (‘a more accommodating character’) cites Blok 1899 (‘amiable man’, ‘a sober, practical and temperate character, but little independent, moreover anxious and far from unselfish, a willing tool in the hand of the sovereign he greatly admired’); Price 1987, p. 80; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 79-80; Van Deursen 1979. 27. Ten Berge 1979, p. 133. 28. Ten Berge 1979, p. 155. 29. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 155, 160; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 28, 131, 489. 30. Ten Berge 1979, p. 160. 31. Dominicus-van Soest 1988, p. 165. Incidentally, Frijhoff & Spies 1999, p. 28 still list Post as an architect. 32. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 165-171. 33. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 31. 34. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 31; Van Es 1962, p. 10; Ten Berge 1979, pp. 35-36, 44, 70 (‘hefty home library’), 186; Luijten 1996 confirms Cats’ erudition in many areas of the European humanities. Cats knows the Church Fathers (Ambrose, Augustine, Chrysostomus, Hieronymus), works of Theokritus (reprinted 1598 by Daniel Heinsius), Erasmus, but also mentions classical Roman works (Horace, Juvenalis, Ovid, Plautus, Seneca, Tacitus, Terentius, Virgil), Latin adaptations of Greek authors such as Aristotle, Hesiod, Plutarchus, early Renaissance authors (Alciatus, Petrarch), as well as more contemporary works by Josephus Justus Scaliger. 35. Ten Berge 1979, p. 178. 36. Ten Berge 1979, p. 172; Kloek 1998, p. 103. Hereafter, Cats’ Complete Work will be referred to as: ADW I and II (page references: edition 1712, facsimile 1978). The selected fragments have been translated as literally as possible, using Van Sterkenburg 1981 and Verdam 1981; no attempt has been made to do justice to the poetic register of these fragments. 37. According to Ten Berge 1979, pp. 94-95, this work, apart from Jan Baptist Houwaert’s poem, is unique in this genre. 38. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 116-126. 39. Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 580, 583. 40. Ten Berge 1979, p. 39. 41. Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 464, 470, 473. 42. Ten Berge 1979, p. 50ff; Luijten 1996A and B. 43. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 41-43. 44. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 71-72. 203 45. Ten Berge 1979, p. 130; Cats catalogus, p. 25 mentions 1635. 46. Ten Berge 1979, Price 1987, Van Deursen 1979. 47. Ten Berge 1979, p. 70. 48. Thus authors such as Van Es, Van Gemert, Grootes, Leuker, Luijten, Schenkeveld-van der Dussen, Sneller and Spies. 49. Ten Berge 1979, p. 95; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 28, 228, 263, 464, 466, 542; it is estimated that 300,000 copies of Cats’ work were already circulating around 1650 (p. 537). The Houwelick had forty separate printings in the seventeenth century. In 1655 his publisher Schipper counted ‘bij de vijftig duizend gedrukt’ [around fifty thousand printed]. See also Schenkeveld-van der Dussen 1991, p. 31. She points out that of Spiegel van den ouden en nieuwen tijdt 25.000 copies were printed and of Trou-ringh even more. 50. Frijhoff & Spies 1999, p. 28. 51. Huizinga 1941, pp. 89-91; Ten Berge 1979, p. 96 points to a partial Danish translation of the Houwelick (1675: Den Christelige Hustrue), partial Swedish translation (1759); and as early as 1657 a German translation of Kinder-spel as H. Jacob Catsen Kinder-Lustspiele, Zürich). Full German translation appears as early as the eighteenth century (p. 218); in Sweden, parts were translated or fragments were inserted into their own works (by Georg Stiernhelm, Lasse Lucidor, Spegel, and others). Further: Porteman 1977; Sneller 1996. Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 28, 133, 586, and 588. The authors link the positive reception of Cats in the Germany (where, incidentally, people could read Dutch) to a revival of domestic life and bourgeois morality after the Thirty Years’ War, in the late 40s and 50s of the seventeenth century. 52. Ten Berge 1979, p. 174; Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 31; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, p. 30. 53. Ten Berge 1979, 46; pp. 75-76; Ten Berge 1979, on De Swaef, pp.75 and 77; Grootes 1995; Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 31. 54. According to Grootes 1995, he belongs ‘to the top of Dutch literature of the seventeenth century’. 55. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 18,209. The classical mountain of the Muses (song goddesses); Boekema Sciarone, p. 31. Huygens, by the way, was a distant relative of his. Ten Berge 1979, p. 219: Huygens praises Cats’ work several times (e.g., in 1658). 56. For a man in his position, Schenkeveld-van der Dussen 1991, p. 22 writes, it would be dishonorable if he made a living out of it. Cats was therefore very wealthy, and a millionaire at his death. Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 19 and 572-573. 57. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 164-170; Schama 1988, p. 297. 58. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 125-126; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 539, 551. 59. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 75, 181, 188. 60. Ten Berge 1979, p. 34. 204 61. Thus Frijhoff & Spies 1999, p. 191. Furthermore: Kloek 1995, Boekema Scarione 1978, p. 36; Kluiver 1978, Schama 1988, Carter 1974, Franits 1993, Sneller 1996, Leuker 1991. For variations, see Ten Berge 1979: ‘the handbook for the Dutch housewife’ (p. 66), ‘house bible for the Christian family’ (p. 77), ‘practical life doctrine’ (p. 77), ‘household encyclopedia’ (p. 78); Carter 1974: ‘marriage counseling’; Van Es 1962: ‘manual for married life’ (p. 7), ‘the vade mecum in verse for married people’ (p. 15); Noordam 1982: ‘a marriage book modern for its time’ (p. 313); Dresen-Coenders 1989B, a work ‘aimed at the education of female youth in his own milieu’ (p. 23); Sutton 1998: ‘domestic conduct book’ (pp. 68-75); Hollander 1990: ‘household manuals’ (p. 54), ‘Cats recipe for the perfect wife’ (pp. 61-64); Hollander 1994: ‘enormously influential homilies on the subject of domestic life’ (p. 147); Frijhoff & Spies 1999, ‘advice literature’ (p. 191), ‘moralizing poetry’ (p. 228); Franits 2001: ‘probably the most popular domestic treatise’ (p. 309). 62. Leuker 1991 and 1992A; Van Stipriaan 1994; Kloek 1993A,B and C; Van Deursen 1978-1981; Haks 1982; Van der Heijden 1998; Damsma 1993A and B; Schama 1988, Franits 1993; De Jongh 1986. 63. Leuker 1991, p. 99; Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 32; Kloek 1993A, p. 57; Hufton 1995. 64. Spies 1995, pp. 3-8. Dresen-Coenders 1977-1978; Kelso 1956. 65. Dieteren 1987, pp.104-105; Leuker 1991, pp. 102-116; Kloek 1993A, p. 57; DresenCoenders 1977, 1987, 1988A and B, 1989A and B; Bleyerveld 2000. 66. Kloek 1993A, p. 57; Spies 1986B, pp. 340-343; Spies 1995C, p. 10; Hufton 1995, p. 421; Dieteren 1987, pp. 94-105; Dresen-Coenders 1977. 67. Kloek 1993, p. 56; Leuker 1991, p. 99; Hufton 1995. 68. Spies 1986B, p. 341; Nauwelaerts 1975, pp. 130-137. 69. Nauwelaerts 1975, p. 137. 70. Spies 1986B, p. 342; Noordam 1982, p. 313; Bleyerveld 2000. 71. Naewelaerts 1975, p. 133. 72. Kloek 1993A, pp. 57 and 67. 73. Spies 1986B, p. 341. 74. Spies 1986B, pp. 343-344. 75. Spies 1995C, pp 8-9; Hufton 1995, p. 421 mentions only the English translation. 76. Spies 1995C, p. 8; Dieteren 1987, pp. 96-97. 77. Spies 1986B, p. 342. 78. Published in 1529. Spies 1986B, pp. 344-345; Dresen-Coenders 1977, p. 29. 79. Boekema Sciarone 1978, pp. 43-46. 80. Thus the recently published Dutch translation of Dissertatio, de Ingenii Muliebris ad Doctrinam & meliores Litteras aptitude. The original edition had a preface added by Van Beverwijk (Roothaan 1996, p. 8). 81. Spies 1995C, p. 17. 82. Roothaan 1996, p. 8. 83. Spies 1986B, pp.346-347; Boekema Sciarone 1978, pp. 43-46. 84. Boekema Sciarione 1978. 205 85. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 31; Kluiver 1978, p. 49; Ten Berge 1979, p. 44. 86. Kloek 1993A, p. 57; Spies 1995C, p. 16. 87. Leuker 1991, pp. 99-100; Van der Heijden 1998, p. 44. 88. Ten Berge 1979, p. 95. 89. Boekema Scarione 1978; Van der Heijden 1998, p. 44. 90. Van der Heijden 1998, p. 44. Spies 1995C, p. 11. 91. Noordam 1982, p. 310. 92. And in particular the work Colloquia Familiaria, according to Ten Berge 1979, p. 209. 93. Ten Berge 1979, p. 78; Leuker 1991, p. 100. 94. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 31; Vloemans 1971, pp. 143-149. 95. Naewelaerts 1975, p. 136; Gunning 1991; Derksen 1996. However, Spies (1986A, p. 348) does point out that by now theory had been overtaken by practice on this point in Holland. 96. Ten Berge 1979, p. 94. Vives also considers an ‘unblemished chastity and virginity in body and mind’ the basis of his moral didactics according to Nauwelaerts 1975, p. 132. 97. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 35; Leuker 1991, p. 104. 98. Spies 1986A, p. 341; Spies 1995C, p. 11; Van Gemert 1992; Leuker 1991, p. 104; Kloek 1993A, p. 56. 99. Van Gemert 1992. 100. Leuker 1991, p. 100; Van der Heijden 1998; Groenendijk 1984, p. 14; Noordam 1982. 101. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 31; Van der Heijden 1998; Groenendijk 1984, p. 14; Noordam 1982. 102. Groenendijk 1984, p. 14; Van der Heijden 1998, pp. 42-44. 103. Leuker 1991, p. 97; Kluiver 1978, p. 49; Ten Berge 1979, p. 86; Damsma 1993B, p. 52; Carter 1974, p. 105. 104. Schama 1988, pp. 406, 412, 424-427. 105. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 31. 106. Van der Heijden 1998, p. 40; Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 34. 107. Van der Heijden 1998, p. 40. 108. Groenendijk 1984; Leuker 1991, p. 97. Johan Harmenszoon Krul (1639), Minnespiegel ter deughden also writes about the ‘ideal woman’ following Cats. 109. In the chapter ‘Cats onder de menschen’ [Cats among the people] Smilde 1938 sketches the history of appreciation from the end of the seventeenth century, in which he notes considerablechanges. We see how Cats is appropriated on the basis of historical preferences. For instance, Cats is taken in by the ‘Maatschappij tot Nut van ’t Algemeen’ [Society for the Benefit of All] (because if he had lived, he would certainly be a 'member of this society') because he was seen as a ‘volksverlichter’ [people’s enlightener] (Smilde 1938, p. 296). Kloek 1998. 110. Kloek 1998, pp. 114-122. 111. Krol 1997; Smilde 1938, p. 296 confirm this. 206 112. Van Es 1962, p. 8, Noordam 1982, p. 306; Witstein 1980. 113. Ten Berge 1979, p. 115; Noordam 1982, p. 306. 114. Thus observed by Van Es 1962, Smilde 1938, Witstein 1980. 115. Price 1979, p. 80; Noordam 1982, p. 307: his significance does not lie ‘on the literaryaesthetic field’; Van Deursen 1979, III, p. 3 speaks of ‘rhyming folk educator’. 116. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 77-78. 117. Schama 1988, p. 386. See, e.g., Price 1987 who speaks of ‘his monotonously droning alexandrines are soon bored’ (p. 81) and Noordam 1982: ‘limp alexandrines’ (p. 307). 118. De Jongh 1995A, p. 15. 119. Smit 1962; Ten Berge 1979, pp. 214-217; Witstein 1980: ‘great technical ability’; Luijten 1996, II, p. 89 speaks of poeta doctus. 120. Ten Berge 1979, p. 217. 121. And so, for example, did the work of Vondel and Bredero. 122. Porteman 1984A, p. 95. Price 1987, p. 81 confirms the picture of the lesser status of literature. 123. Boekema Sciarone 1979, p. 29; Van Es 1962, p. 7. 124. Van Es 1962, pp. 9, 17, 19. 125. Noordam 1982, p. 309. 126. Kluiver 1978, p. 61. 127. Kluiver 1978, p. 62. 128. Schama 1988, p. 423. 129. Schama 1988, p. 510. 130. Schama 1988, p. 403: ‘poetically inspired’ models; Sneller 1996, pp. 154-155: ‘advices’, ‘dream’, ‘ideal world’, ‘designer of marriage norms’; Leuker 1991, p. 95: ‘Idealbild’; Van Es 1962, p. 16. 131. Frijhoff & Spies 1999 call Cats a ‘moralist’ (p. 191), but also ‘volksdichter nummer één’ [folk poet number one] (p. 364). 132. Starting with Jan and Annie Romein is in itself arbitrary, but in view of their utterances also about Stevin, and hereafter about De Hooch, I thought it acceptable to draw the line here. After all, in these three sections 1.1.1-1.1.3, I am not concerned with writing a history of reception an sich. 133. Huizinga 1941, pp. 108-109. 134. Struik 1979, p. 78. 135. Noordam 1982, p. 308 speaks of ‘a calling to form the Dutch people spiritually’. 136. Van Es 1962, p. 11 speaks of ‘zedemeester’ [moralist] and later (pp. 13 and 21) of ‘volksverteller’ [folk storyteller]. 137. Schama 1988, ‘middle-class household’ (p. 392). 138. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 29. 139. Thus Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 29. 207 140. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 32. 141. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 42. 142. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 46. 143. Boekema Sciarone 1978, pp. 33-34, 42. The writers point out (p. 44) that others were also concerned with ‘the relationship between men-and-women-in-society’ at the time. 144. The same is true of Carter 1974, p. 120. 145. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 204 and 211. Kluiver is also concerned about the lousy state of affairs in upper middle-class circles. 146. Ten Berge 1979, p. 202. 147. Ten Berge 1979 points out several times that Cats does not really get his sexual urge (p. 63 ‘persoonlijke zinnestrijd’ [personal struggle with the sensual] and ‘mannelijke wellust’ [male lust]) under control (pp. 58, 64: ‘he is not able to overcome his erotic urge’). He points to the – compared to the ‘more prudish eighteenth century and later’ – ‘more tolerant’ sexual morality in Cats’ time. Jacob Cats, however, sometimes allowed himself liberties that even Ten Berge, in his own words, would not dare to repeat. 148. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 35. 149. Groenendijk 1984, p. 13. 150. Boekema Sciarone 1979, p. 35; Leuker 1991, pp. 105, 116, 117; Kloek 1993A, pp. 56, 57; Leuker 1992A, pp. 96, 102, 104, 110; for a critique see Van Stipriaan 1994. 151. Schama 1988, pp. 402-403. 152. Damsma 1993B, p. 53. 153. McNeil Kettering 1993, p. 105. 154. Sneller 1996, p. 155. 155. Schama 1988, pp. 386-387. 156. Dijstelberge 1996, p. 7. 157. Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 46; Kloek 1995, p. 252; Leuker 1991, pp. 116-117. A similar tenor is present in Roper 1989, pp. 1-2; Carter 1974, p. 126. 158. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 16-17 points out that his paternal uncle, Matthijs Cats (died 1576) was a theologian, Franciscan, and gardian of the Friars Minor at Mechelen and Leuven. Cats’ brother Cornelis was sent to the Flemish town of Douai for a proper priestly education, which he was forced to abort prematurely due to the flaring war, however. 159. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 180-181, 168; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 366-367, 596. 160. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 177, 190. 161. Kloek 1995, pp. 250-256; Leuker 1991, pp. 106-107; Ten Berge 1979, p. 85; Boekema Sciarone 1978, p. 34. 162. Blom 2001, p. 205. De Jongh 1995A, p. 15 takes the work of Cats as an example of ‘what the average seventeenth-century person could digest in the field of morality’. For, he concludes: ‘That must have been quite a lot, if we only think of the incessant preaching of Jacob Cats, who after all could call himself the most popular writer of his time’. 163. Ten Berge 1979; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 551, 559. 164. Dijstelberge 1996; Ten Berge 1979, pp. 200-201. 208 165. The ‘modern-humanity of Cats’ is that he speaks in a voice that is both sincere and mendacious, according to Ten Berge 1979, p. 221. 166. Kloek 1998, p. 122. 167. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 227-228; Luijten 1996B II, p. 5. The work first appeared in 1618 as Silenus Alcibiadis, sive Proteus. 168. Luijten 1996B, II, p. 5. 169. Luijten 1996B, II, p. 89. 170. ADW I, pp. 235-424. 171. ADW I, p. 338, note (a). On p. 282 he refers to Institutio christiani matrimonii. Luijten 1996B, II, p. 61. 172. ADW I, pp. 265 and 281 mentions De Christiana Foemina. Witstein 1980A, p. 43 points out that Vives wrote De officio mariti (on male duties) as its counterpart in 1529. 173. Rummel 1996; Sperna Weiland 1992; Noreña 1970; Boekema Sciarone 1978; Spies 1986B and 1995C. 174. Rose 1986; Wiesner 1993; Nauwelaerts 1975. 175. Haks 1982; Kloek 1983, 1994, 1995. 176. Ozment 1983; Noordam 1961; George 1973; Carter 1974; Power, 1978; Bridenthal 1977; Dresen-Coenders 1977, 1988A and B; Kluiver 1978; Haks 1982; Kooy 1985; Bange 1985; Ferguson 1986; Dieteren 1987; Peeters, Dresen-Coenders & Brandenbarg 1988; Roper 1989; Brandenbarg 1992; Farge 1992; Dekker 1992; Wiesner 1993; Kloek 1993B and C, 1994, 1995; Hufton 1995; Schuurman & Spierenburg 1996; Van der Heijden 1998; Spierenburg 1998. 177. Kloek 1993C, p. 118. 178. Pleij 1988, p. 337. 179. Van Eupen 1985, pp. 8-10. 180. Van Eupen 1985, p. 11. 181. Hommes 1990. 182. Boekema Sciarone 1978; Friesendorp & Joosse 1983; Pleij 1988; Leuker 1991, 1992A, 1994; Benson 1992; De Baar 1992; Kloek 1994; Van Gemert 1994; Sneller 1994; Spies 1994, 1995C; Van Oostveen 1994; Van Stipriaan 1994; Van Beek 1995; Schenkeveld-Van der Dussen 1994. 183. Leuker 1992A argues that the farces still confirmed patriarchal relations through a detour, which Stipriaan considers debatable. Sneller argues that Jacob Cats perpetuated patriarchal relations through his rhetorical abilities. 184. Spies 1986B, p. 350. 185. Thus Spies 1986B, p. 350; Kloek 1983, p. 149 and 1990, p. 42, respectively. 186. Spies 1995C, p. 10. 187. Sneller 1996, pp. 18-19. 188. For classic views of women, see Bleyerveld 2000, pp. 20-21. 189. Kloek 1995, pp. 250, 254. 209 190. Sneller 1996; Rummel 1996, p. 11. 191. See, e.g.. Pontfoort 1984, p. 17 (De Pisan) and Roothaan 1996, p. 8 (Van Schurman). Kloek 1983 (pp. 121, 126, 148) discusses some painful dilemmas facing the modern female researcher of the early modern period. 192. Van Dijk 2000, p. 97. 193. Ozment 1983, p. 2. 194. Grootes 1996, p. 135. Grootes, like Spies, has repeatedly pointed to the reorientation that has taken place in recent decades concerning the foundations of historical literary studies. 195. Grootes 1996, p. 186 points out that ‘starting an alternative, social-historical practice of the profession’ is not the right path for literary-historical scholarship. ‘The literary historian should not sit in the chair of the sociologist or the historian, but would do better to stick to the craft in which he has a specific expertise’. 196. Spies 1987 I, p. vii. 197. Spies 1987 I, p. viii: ‘Thus, when we consider the text historically, we have to do with the literary genre, with the rhetorical structure, with the origin of the concrete content, and with the moral and philosophical conceptions’. See further Spies 1987 II, p. 12. 198. Spies 1987 I, p. viii. 199. Witstein 1980A, p. 43 thus responds to Smilde 1938 who argues that Cats’ attention to marital ethics was related to the disappearance of the Catholic context during the Reformation. 200. ‘Voor-reden’ [Preface], in: Trou-ringh ADW II, A4 verso. 201. Frijhoff & Spies 1999, especially pp. 227-279. 202. Schenkeveld-van der Dussen 1991, pp. 21 and 17 respectively. 203. Spies 1995C, p. 18. 204. Sneller 1996, pp. 60-70, in terms of literary history, she rates Huygens higher than Cats (p. 148); Zwaan 1993; Schenkeveld-van der Dussen 1991, pp. 10, 17, 18, 27; Vollemans 1998, pp. 66-68. 205. Schenkeveld-van der Dussen 1991, p. 35; Sneller 1996, pp. 61, 62-63, 68-70 places particular emphasis on the ‘patriarchal’ nature of this standard, according to the first sentence: ‘We do not know for sure, but probably patriarchy is of all ages’ (p. 6). 206. Dresen-Coenders 1989B, pp. 20-52. Vives was from a Jewish family from Valencia, Spain. Lived part of his life in Paris, Bruges, Leuven and in England (pp. 24-28) and was married to a daughter of a Valencian Jewish merchant (Noreña 1970, pp. 20-28). Erasmus, on the other hand, led a celibate life and their relationship has been variable (Noreña 1970, p. 145). Both also knew Thomas Moore. Wittewrongel (1609-1662) was a preacher of the further Reformation who agreed with Cats on many points (Groenendijk 1984, pp. 13-14, 35-36). 207. Luijten 1996B, II, p. 66: ‘The topoi thus assembled form an essential part of Cats’ toolbox’. Elsewhere he confirms that this was the usual method of working at the time (Luijten 1996B III, p. 365, n. 55). 208. Thus Noreña 1970, p. 296 (on Vives). See also Rummel 1996, p. 5 (on Erasmus); Pontfoort 1984, pp. 34-35 (on De Pisan). 209. For and overview, see Luijten 1996B II, pp. 62-69. He points to the Florilegia, floral collections and other compilations. Maclean 1980, p. 63. 210 210. ADW I, p. 282. Luijten 1996B II, p. 53 points out that Cats quotes both literally and paraphrasingly. Sometimes with, sometimes without reference to an author. Montaigne did this explicitly to test whether the authority of the classical is operative without reference. 211. To this end, see Luijten 1996B II, p. 54. 212. Maclean 1980, p. 5 points out that Renaissance authors also worked with fixed collections of ‘loci communis’ where ‘women’ were concerned. Tiraquel’s work on marriage (1513) is an example. It contains 50 folio sheets of references. 213. Luijten 1996B II, p. 65. 214. ADW I, p. 282. 215. Cats, Sinne- of Minnebeelden, in: ADW II, p. 51. Luijten 1996B III, pp. 458-515 gives an inventory of Cats’ library. 216. ADW I: Galenus (p. 331), Hippocrates (p. 380). 217. ADW I: Calvin (p. 321); Plato (p. 281, Republica), (p. 331, Timaeos). Luijten 1996B II, pp. 56-58 for the Bible editions used by Cats. Maclean 1980, p. 6 points out that the Church Fathers remained in use as references by Catholics as well as Protestants. 218. ADW I: Montaigne (pp. 359, 299, 363); Anthonis Magyrus, Keuckenboeck (p. 352); Dodoneus, Kruyt-boeck (p. 373); Xenophon (pp. 287, 289, 333, ‘Ischomachus,’ in the Oeconomia). 219. Cats is not the only one to write emblem books about love, see Daniel Heinsius and Pieter Cornelisz. Hooft. See Luijten 1996B II, p. 58. 220. It concerns André Tiraqeau, De legibus connubialibus et iure martiali. ADW I, pp. 330, 399-400 (‘Andreas Tiraquels sestien Huwelycks Wetten; waer in hy het gansche recht des huwelycks kortelijk begrepen, en breeder door seer geleerde Uytleggingen verklaert heeft’ [Andreas Tiraquels’ Sixteen Laws of Marriage; in which he briefly summarizes the whole law of marriage, and has explained it more broadly with very learned Explanations]. Luijten 1996B III, p. 363, n. 43. For drawing see ADW I, p. 370. 221. ADW, I: Cicero (p. 289); Petrarch (p. 340); William Gouge (pp. 385, 339); Bayly (p. 417); Smith (pp. 289, 299, 381, 383); Teelling (p. 385). See Groenendijk 1984, pp. 186-189. 222. ADW I, ‘Hoogliedt Salomons’ Song of Songs] (p. 282). 223. Cats’ friend the physician Van Beverwijck devoted another entire book to this issue in 1643. Van Gemert 1992A and B; Niekus Moore 1994. Maclean 1980, pp. 29-30 points out that, particularly among physicians in the late 16th and early 17th centuries, there were positive statements about women, this in response to Aristotle’s view of the natural inferiority of women. However, the defense of the superiority of the female seks is inconsistent. 224. Pleij 1988, p. 334. 225. Kristeller 1961; Kelso 1956; Febrvre & Martin 1998; Eisenstein 1979. 226. Maclean 1980, p. 5. 227. Breward 1970, pp. 36-37. 211 228. Like Coornhert: ‘Siet hier, Nederlander, tot lof van uwe moeder-tale, een gansch gedichte alleen bestaende uyt enckel geluyden, ofte woorden van eener silbe: waer uyt blijcken kan hoe kort en bondig ghy daer in spreecken kont. Ick wensche dat iemant van hare verachters dit eens poogde na te spelen, selfs in de tale die hem best ter hant mogte wesen, en daer niet door wetende te raecken (gelijck ick oordeele sulcks in andere talen onmogelijck te zyn) dat hy ten minsten dan voortaen in meerder achtinge van de selve wilde spreecken, en gevoelen’ [See here, Dutchman, to the praise of your mother tongue, a whole poem consisting only of a few sounds, or words of one syllable: from which can be seen how briefly and concisely you can speak in it. I wish that one of her despisers would try to imitate this, even in the language that is best available to him, and if he does not succeed in doing so (and as I judge that it is impossible in other languages) that he would at least from now on speak with a higher regard and feeling about it]. Like Coornhert and StevinCats too wants to write in service of his countrymen. People are able to read, but never learned Latin. ADW I, p. 281. But unlike Coornhert, he made the knowledge undergo a metamorphosis through his poetic adaptation, so that it retained its power far afterwards. ADW I, pp. 281-282: Cats refers to the use of poems in Greek works, and even in the Holy Scripture that are set to rhyme. In Dutch, for example, the Rijmbijbel of Jacob van Maerlant is known. 229. ADW I, p. 284, note a. 230. ADW I, p. 281. 231. Haks 1982, pp. 1-12. 232. Groenendijk 1984, pp. 130-131. 233. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, pp. 20-23, 46. See his enumeration on pp. 47-48. 234. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. 21: ‘t’samen-voeginge van twee vrou-mensche’ [the merging of two women], where Cats refers to Montaigne who is convinced of it. Maclean 1980 confirms that in Renaissance medicine it was considered possible that the sexes could merge. 212 235. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. 2: ‘Merk voor eerst (...) dat het houwelijk is een wettige by-een-komste, en sluyt daer mede uyt alle de t’samen-voegingen van man en wijf die onwettigh of tegen de regel zijn, het zy dan ten aensien van de persoonen ofte van de sake selfs. Let vorder op de woorden, tusschen man en vrouwe, en sluyt daar mede uyt, als onwaerdigh den naem van houwelijck, die t’samenvoeginge van de onmondige en minderjarige, van gelijcke de t’samenkomste van vrouwe met vrouwe, of man met manspersoon, waer van men ook hedendaegs exempelen heeft gesien: en bovendien van vrouwen ofte mans-persoonen, daer van d’een ofte d’ander, ofte beyde ten houwelick onbequaem zijn. Van gelijcken wort door de voorsz. woorden afgekeurt de by-een-komste van een man tot twee of meer vrouwen; Item van twee ofte meer mans tot eene vrouwe. Met de woorden van onscheydbare gemeenschap wort aengewesen, dat geen houwelijck en kan gemaeckt worden onder conditie, oock niet tot eenen sekeren tijt toe; maer het is een bandt geduerende geheel het leven van de gene die onderlinge zijn verbonden, het welk in andere gemeene verbintenisse en handelingen geen plaatse grijpt’ [Note first of all (...) that marriage is a legal communion, and with that it excludes all other conjugations of man and woman that are unlawful or against the rule, be it with regard to the persons or the matter itself. Observe further the words, between man and women, and exclude therefrom, as unworthy of the name of marriage, that the joining together of the underage and the minor, of equal meetings of woman with woman, or man with man, of which also examples have been seen to-day: and moreover, of women or men, whereby the one or the other, or both, are unfit for marriage. Similarly, the aforementioned disapproves of the union of a man with two or more women; the same of two or more men with one woman. By the words of inseparable communion is meant, that a marriage cannot be contracted under conditions, e.g. for a certain time; for it is a bond for the whole life of those who are joined together, which is not so with other general unions and acts]. 236. Kelso 1956, pp. 25, 36. 237. Maclean 1980, p. 50. 238. Noreña 1970, pp. 208-209; Rummel 1996, pp. 3, 11. 239. I purposely use the term ‘characters’ to emphasize their literary life which consists of only words. Hamon 1989, pp. 81-100. 240. Smit 1962 and Luijten 1996B II, pp. 50-52 confirm the importance of Cats’ rhetorical and legal training in this regard. 241. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. A4 verso. On p. 60 (ADW II), Cats refers e.g. to Aristotle’s Ethics. 242. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. 602 (‘Regels voor de Huyshoudinge, rakende de onderlinge plichten tusschen man en vrou’ [Rules for the Household, touching on the mutual duties between husband and wife]): ‘Weet dat niet alle ding in huys en dient gebrogt, Al wat men niet en hoeft, is altijt dier gekocht. Cato’ [Know that one should not get everything in the house, Because everything that one does not need, is therefore always expensive. Cato]. In his description of life at Sorgvliet, Cats presents himself as a connoisseur of the argrarian economy as described by both Roman writers (see for Cato ADW II, p. 291); Luijten 1996B III, p. 514 (Xenophon) and p. 461(Aristotle). 243. Hoffman 1959, pp. 24 and 27-29. 244. Pleij 1988, p. 337. Pleij points to the geneology of this work, which goes back to Bernardus Silvestris, De cura et modo rei familiaris (c. 1150). 245. Meder 1994, pp. 86-88 lists as provenance a Latin supplement to the Disticha Catonis (later translated as Dietsche Cato), also from the twelfth century, known as Facetus, ‘cum nihil utilis’. For the Disticha Catonis, see Van Buuren 1994 and Van Oostrom 1996, p. 47. 213 246. Stevin, Het Burgherlick Leven, p. 45; Coornhert, ‘Vande wysheydt’ [On Wisdom], III 5 (Becker 1942, pp. 181-195). For Coornhert and his classical ethical views, see BerkvensStevelinck 1989, Fresco 1989, Hertspiegel by Hendrik Laurensz. Spiegel is also an ethical work written at this time (1600/ 1614). For all three, see Israel 1996 II, p. 629. Some modern authors emphasize the dependence of Coornhert (known as a Christian humanist) on classical moral philosophy, others more his Christian thinking. For the dilemmas to which Coornhert’s work gives rise, see Berkvens-Stevelinck 1989. 247. Hoffmann 1959, pp. 41-45. 248. Hoffmann 1959, pp. 5, 29: Groenendijk 1984; Breward 1970. 249. For an overview of New Testament finding places in Cats’ Sinne and Minne images, see Luijten 1996B III, pp. 448-450 and 454-457. For Old Testament finding places, see Luijten 1996B III, pp. 446-448 and 451-454. 250. Syncretism means the fusion of heterogeneous ideas, a process that took place in many areas in the early modern period. 251. Hoffmann 1959, pp. 6-23. 252. ADW I, p. 289; Foucault 1984B, p. 156. 253. Foucault 1984B, pp. 147, 150. 254. Hoffman 1959, p. 10; Foucault 1984B, p. 140. Foucault emphasizes the asymmetry in ancient partner choice when, on p. 151, he writes: ‘The marital couple is thus characterized by an original asymmetry – the man decides for himself while the family decides for the girl’. 255. ADW II, pp. 311 and 313. On p. 336, Cats gives the example of a Roman custom of making it clear to the newly married woman that there is no turning back. 256. ADW I, p. 311; Herweg 1994, pp. 90 and 100. 257. ADW I, p. 310 (referring to Aristotle’s Ethics (VIII.10), Tiraquel (l.8) and Plutarch. Herweg 1994, pp. 91-92. 258. ADW I, p. 289. Hoffmann 1959, p. 10 emphasizes that the ‘art of economics’ is not given to everyone, and in ancient times was considered a favor of the gods. Herweg 1994, p. 91. 259. ADW I, pp. 322, 356. 260. ADW I, p. 322. Foucault 1984B, p. 153, quotes Xenophon: ‘... from the beginning, the deity adapted the woman’s nature to work inside the house and the man’s to work outside the house’. And a little further, Foucault concludes, ‘Each of the two spouses thus has a nature of their own, a form of activity, and a place that are determined with respect to the demands of the oikos’. 261. Hoffmann 1959, p. 9. 262. ADW I, p. 291: One lacks everything. 263. The marriage should be based on a community of property. ADW I, p. 289 (‘Bruyt’), pp. 350 and 371 (‘Wife’). 264. See Stevin’s pursuit of a ‘liberated place,’ as a complement to the woman's ‘freedom’ to go from basement to attic (ADW I, p. 366 (‘Wife’). Coornhert, in addition to protection from malicious men, being protected from the weather and wild animals, points to the analogy with birds safely sheltering in their nests (Becker 1942, p. 183). 265. ADW I, p. 338 214 266. ADW I, pp. 298-301 Cats speaks of ‘het gansch gesin, kint, boden, nichten neven’ [the whole family, kint, servants, nieces and nephews]. Coornhert (Becker 1942, pp. 182-183) speaks of ‘huysghezinde’. To this he includes all members of the household (father of the household as master, the housewife as the life companion, children as the desired fruits, and servants as the executors of the father’s orders) plus all possessions (wealth and income). 267. Thus Aristotle and Xenophon (Hoffmann 1959, p. 11). Idem Foucault 1984B, pp. 148 and 152. He points to the encompassing meaning that the ‘roof’ has with it in the Greek domestic economy: ‘to house is to anticipate to distribute goods at the appropriate time (...) What he has produced, earned or exchanged he brings to his house; in the house the wife takes it, keeps it and distributes it according to the needs. (...) Both roles complement each other exactly and without one the other would be useless’. 268. ADW I. p. 328; Hoffmann 1959, p. 10 confirms this with Xenophon. 269. ADW I, pp. 322, 370, 371 (‘Wife’). 270. ADW I, pp. 370-371. Cats here refers to the married Johanna Coomans who excels in her poetry. Herweg 1994, pp. 84, 87, 91 mentions similar qualities as necessary for women. 271. ADW I, p. 317. 272. ADW I, p. 334. 273. Even when a man proposes this in honor of his wife. A sensible woman will have to refuse this says Cats, ADW I, p. 310. 274. Foucault 1984B, p. 153. ‘The “natural” opposition between man and woman and the specificity of their abilities are inseparable from the order of the house; they are made for this order, which imposes them inversely as obligations’. Herweg 1994, pp. 99-100. 275. ADW I, p. 317. For the merchant woman in the Dutch seventeenth century, see Kloek 1993A, pp. 58-59. 276. ADW I, p. 423. This is in contrast to the common practice in the Republic where there is indeed talk of widows acting (in the footsteps of their husbands) as merchants, because now she takes care of income. Kloek 1993A, p. 59. 277. Hoffmann 1959; Foucault 1984B. ADW I, p. 312. 278. Hoffmann 1959, pp. 19 and. 63-65 points out that in the Roman writings of Cato and Varro, among others, an agrarian doctrine is presented in which the daily management of the estate is assigned to an overseer and its domestic management to a ‘Haushälterin’. The latter’s directives were transferred to the house mother in early modern German writings. 279. ADW I, pp. 314 and 282. For the duties (and virtues) of the married man, ADW I, pp. 307-308, of the married woman, p. 308. Idem Hoffmann 1959. 280. ADW I, p. 309. 281. ADW I, pp. 311, 313 and 314. 282. ADW I, p. 312. 283. ADW I, p. 315. For the various connotations of the sunflower, see Emmens 1981C and 1981D, Yates 1988, p. 178 (citing Trismegistus and the kabbalah). 284. ADW II, pp. 312, 315. Foucault 1984B, pp. 149-150. 285. ADW I, p. 313. 286. Hoffmann 1959, p. 10. 215 287. The strict separation concerns a legal distinction between house and field. Hugo de Groot explains this distinction in his Inleiding tot de Hollandsche Rechts-Geleerdheid published in 1631. De Groot (Dovering 1952, pp. 152-156). 288. ADW I, pp. 288, 291, 352. 289. ADW I, pp. 601, 291, 310 (‘vloeren’ [floors]); p. 331 (‘vloer’ [floor]); ADW I, p. 291 sometimes in a negative sense, as when he speaks of ‘solders sonder balck’ [attics without beam]; p. 352 (‘trappen’ [stairs]); pp. 291, 288, 291; p. 291 (‘slot’ [lock]), p. 300 (‘sleutel’ [key]). 290. ADW I, p. 335. 291. ADW I, p. 335: ‘voorhuys’ [front house], containing a ‘deur’ [door], provided with a ‘nagtslot’ [night lock] and a ‘venster’ [window], both of which open onto the street; Cats, Regels voor de Huys-houdinge, in: ADW I, p. 601. 292. Cats, Regels voor de Huys-houde, in: ADW I, p. 602. 293. ADW I, pp. 291, 331 (‘in onse kamer’ [in our chamber]); p. 337: (‘kamers’ [chambers]); pp. 352, 337 (‘vertreck’ [chamber]); p. 337: (‘salen’ [halls]). 294. ADW I, p. 331 (‘binne-sael’ [indoor chamber]); p. 352 (‘tafels’ [tables]); p. 27. 295. ADW I, p. 309 (‘keucken’ [kitchen]) p. 310 (‘heert’ [fireplace, hearth]). 296. ADW I, p. 309. 297. ADW I, pp. 371, 375. 298. As Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 103 notes, ‘huisraad’ [household goods] has a broad meaning. In addition it can mean ‘huishouden’ [household] and ‘gezin’ [nuclear family]. 299. Cats, Regels voor de huys-houdinge, in: ADW I, p. 601 (‘lepel’ [spoon]), p. 307 (‘teer glas’ [fragile glass]), ‘yseren pot’ [iron jar], ‘porceleyne schotel’ [porcelain dish], ‘koperen becken’ [copper basin], p. 309 (‘gordijnen’ [curtains], ‘bed’ [bed], ‘sleutel’ [key], ‘lywaet’ [linen], ‘de wasch’ [the laundry]), p. 310 (‘kassen’ [cupboards]), p. 314 (‘schouw’ [chimney, hearth]), p. 319 (‘brief’ [letter], ‘pen’ [pen], ‘roemer’ [wine glass]), p. 324 (‘spiegel van Veneetsche glas’ [Venetian glass mirror]), etc. 300. ADW I, p. 352. 301. ADW I, p. 27 (‘spinde’ [pantry]), pp. 357-358 (‘koffers’ [trunks], ‘pijsels’ [wardrobe], ‘kist’ [chest]). 302. ADW I, p. 352 (‘banck’ [couch], ‘spiegel’ [mirror], ‘kaars’ [candle]) and see Cats, Tachtigjarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, 541 (‘olielamp’ [oil lamp]). 303. ADW I, p. 362 (‘hier-gemaeckte koppen’ [here-made mugs]), pp. 601, 54, 360 (‘porceleyn’, ‘over-zeesche glasen’ [glassware from overseas]), p. 354. Cats notes that in Holland these precious items could even be found in the houses of ‘schippersvrouwen’ [bargee’s wives] and ‘bootsgezellen’ [boatmen]. 304. ADW I, p. 359: ‘vlieger’ [outer garment for women, Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 289), ‘hemd’ [shirt] and ‘kap’ [cloak]; pp. 357-358 (‘serviët’ [napkin], ‘ammelakens’ [tablecloths], ‘schoon damast’ [beautiful damask]. 305. ADW I, p. 295 (‘fluweel’ [velvet]), p. 359 (‘sijde’ [silk]), p. 322 (‘syde’, ‘fluweel’, ‘wolle’ [wool], ‘sayet’ [sagathy]), p. 354 (‘bont’ [fur], ‘sijde’, ‘fluweel’). 306. ADW I, p. 337 (‘duysent boecken’ [thousand books]). 216 307. Cats points to the disagreement that arises when someone in the house ‘met het hoofd in de boeken zit’ [sits with his head in the books], and thus is almost naturally ‘afwezig’ [absent]. Other authors also raise this issue, such as De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, p. 140). 308. ADW I, pp. 294, 299, 317, 334, 359-360. 309. ADW I, p. 362. 310. ADW I, p. 362. 311. ADW I, pp. 360-361. 312. ADW I, p. 352. 313. ADW I, p. 360. Coornhert (Becker 1942, pp. 183-184) emphasizes that the house should meet primary needs (‘nooddruft’). 314. Foucault 1984B; Hoffmann 1959. 315. ADW I, p. 337. 316. ADW I, p. 602. 317. Hoffman 1959, p. 15; Foucault 1984B, p. 152. 318. ADW I, p. 361. 319. ADW I, p. 362; idem Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 194). 320. ADW I, p. 362. 321. ADW I, pp. 361-363. Idem Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 191). 322. ADW I, p. 310 (‘vloeren dweilt’ [mopping floors]). But also not too much, p. 350 (‘O moeder van het huys! Maeckt datje minder dweylt’ [O mother of the house! make sure you mop less]); ADW I, p. 334 (‘daer is een vloer te schueren’ [there’s a floor to be sanded]), p. 310 (‘kassen boent’ [polishing cupboards]); p. 358 (‘doen alle berders glimpen’ [make all the shelves shine], ‘banck en tafel wrijft’ [rubbing couch and table]); ADW I, p. 357 (‘boenen, dweylen, schueren’ [polishing, mopping, scrubbing]). 323. ADW I, pp. 334 and 371. 324. ADW I, pp. 243 and 75. 325. ADW I, p. 243. 326. ADW I, p. 352. 327. ADW I, p. 350. 328. ADW I, p. 364. 329. ADW I, p. 356. 330. ADW I, p. 355. 331. Parents should prepare the virgin for marriage. The virgin, for her part, should be studious and appropriate the rules to run the household enterprise. If this has been neglected, a young married woman should be accompanied when going to market by an older and wiser person who will inform her of what to purchase and what not. 332. ADW I, pp. 309 and 355. 333. ADW I, p. 360. 217 334. ADW I, p. 354. We now know from research over the last twenty years, that this had a downside. The gathering of exotic spices by the Dutch VOC was accompanied by much violence, such as what is now known as the ‘Genocide on Banda’ in 1621 by J.P. Coen in order to be able to claim the exclusive right on nutmeg. 335. As is well known, the situation in Holland as a storage and transshipment location for food – both from the surrounding countryside and from outlandish crops – is also special compared to the situation elsewhere. Instead of being subject to the alternation of hunger and abundance, dependent on the harvest, the food supply provides a buffer that can absorb the sharp fluctuations. Not so much abundance, but rather the presence of a reasonably constant amount of food seems to have determined the cultural perception of food and interest in the kitchen. 336. Van Gemert 1992, pp. 104-105, n. 13 notes that Van Beverwijck was less enthusiastic about the exotic herbs and spices, and he preferred honey to sugar. 337. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 574. 338. ADW I, p. 340. 339. ADW I, p. 373. Men, too, according to Cats, made their mark in the ‘art of gardening,’ growing all kinds of tree crops and improving fruit, especially by grafting. ADW I, pp. 371-372. 340. ADW I, p. 360. 341. ADW I, p. 354. 342. ADW I, p. 318. 343. ADW I, pp. 352-353. 344. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW, II, pp. 576-578. 345. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 537-571. For the ‘passies’ [passions], see 3.1.3. For the antique provenance, see Foucault 1984B, pp. 97-106 and Foucault 1985A, pp. 105-115. 346. ADW I, p. 356 and Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 573-575. 347. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 573-574. 348. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 574-575. 349. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 584-585 and 590-591. For similar traditional Jewish precepts, see Herweg 1994, p. 92. 350. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 572. 351. He further refers to Galenus and Aristotle. See also Jansen-Sieben 1994, Thomasset 1991. 352. ADW I, p. 353. 353. ADW I, p. 373. Thus he refers to Dodoneus (Rembert Dodoens), Kruyt-boek (1554). Van Gemert 1992, p. 172; see Imhof 2000. 354. ADW I, pp. 373-375; See also Le Ménagier de Paris (Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 293-529). 355. ADW I, pp. 388, 374. 356. ADW I, p. 374. 357. But the same is true, in fact, when taking ordinary medicines for health. 358. ADW I, p. 353. 218 359. ADW I, p. 355. Idem Van Beverwijck (citing Cicero), p. 15: ‘Daarom moet iedereen zijn eigen natuur kennen en weten wat goed en slecht voor haar is, gebruiken wat voor zijn natuur aangenaam is en afzien van wat haar beschadigt’ [Therefore everyone should know his own nature and know what is good and bad for her, use what is pleasing to his nature and refrain from what damages her]. 360. ADW I, pp. 362, 355. 361. Cats (ADW I, p. 352) especially recommends: ‘Siet het Keuckenboeck onlangs uytgegeven by Anthonis Magyrus; een bequaem werck voor alle huys-moeders, en alle andere Jonckvrouwen, die haer op den keuckenhandel willen leeren verstaen. Siet mede de Moffe-schans van D. Petrus Hondius’ [See the Kitchen Book recently published by Anthonis Magyrus; a suitable work for all house-mothers, and all unmarried women, who wish to learn about kitchen matters. See also the Moffe schans by D. Petrus Hondius]. This is a work in which Hondius noted all his knowledge of the art of gardening, practiced in his country estate De Moufenschans. 362. ADW I, pp. 352-353. 363. ADW I, p. 291. Ditto Vives (Noreña 1970, p. 196). ‘Sieden’ [boiling] is cooking with moisture on high heat. ‘Stoven’ [stewing] is cooking with little moisture on a low heat. Jansen-Sieben & De Winter 1989; Jobse-Van Putten 1995. 364. ADW I, p. 361. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 572. 365. And that includes caring for pets (bird) in her husband’s absence. ADW I, p. 357. 366. ADW I, p. 352: ‘Het is een eerlick huys, dat op sijn eyge wet, Verkeerde rancken weert, en goede regels set. Maeckt op uw eygen hant, en binnen uwe deuren, Een magtig keuckenregt en alle goede keuren’ [It is an honorable house, which, according to its own law, repels wrong ways, and sets good rules. Make yourself, and within your doors, a mighty kitchenlaw with all good ordinances]. While there is some resemblance to the Jewish focus on ‘ritually appropriate’ cooking (particularly in case of domestic religious celebrations), Cats does not appear to have been affected by the ‘kosher’ food laws whereby mixing meat and milk products is considered unclean. Herweg 1994, pp. 89, 95. 367. ADW I: ‘Doch wat men stelt te werck, of achter rugge laet, het beste dis-gebot, dat is de middel-maet’ [What one does, or omits, the best commandment at supper, that is the middle measure] (p. 352); ‘Wie regels stellen wil op huis en keucken-saecken’ [Who wants to set rules in house and kitchen affairs] (p. 356); ‘de konste van den heert’ [the art of the hearth], ‘koken op de maet’ [cooking in the right, measured way] (p. 353); ‘strenge tafelwetten’ [strict table-rules] (p. 352); ‘tafel-wet’ [table-rule], ‘tafel-recht’ [table-regulations] (p. 355); ADW I, pp. 352-353, note e). Cats sees the praise confirmed by pointing to highranking women and high-ranking men who deigned to cook something themselves. Idem Vives (Noreña 1970, p. 196). 368. ADW I, p. 353. 369. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 585-587. 370. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 586. 371. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 586. ADW I, pp. 377-398. Hoffmann 1959, p. 11 points out that Aristotle explicitly sees this alongside child-rearing as the purpose of the house. Foucault 1984B, pp. 151 and 154. 372. ADW I, pp. 377-382, 385. 373. Foucault 1985A. 219 374. ADW I, p. 384. 375. ADW I, p. 385. 376. ADW I, p. 384. 377. ADW I, p. 385. 378. ADW I, p. 385. Cats here presents the common ‘agrarian’ conception of things where only the man has seed at his disposal, and the woman is the fertile soil. Only Reinier de Graaf, with his discovery of the ‘follicle’ (early stage of the fertilized ovum), confirms the Renaissance idea that both sexes contribute something to the fruit. Maclean 1980, p. 33. 379. ADW I, p. 391. 380. Maclean 1980, p. 30; for the theory of humors in general, see Van Gemert 1992, pp. 165-168. 381. ADW I, pp. 391-392. 382. This is in contrast to Vives, for example, who emphasizes the bestiality of the sex act. In doing so, he adheres to the earlier church view that sexuality was acceptable only within marriage, namely to bear children and to satisfy the man’s lust (Noreña 1970, pp. 91-92, 210-211). Vives emphasizes (like Erasmus) the difference between the exalted soul and the sinful flesh. 383. ADW I, p. 385. Idem Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 53-54). 384. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 584-585: ‘Van af-setten en behouden, als oock van het by-slapen’ [Removing or retaining, including in cases of sexual intercourse]. Foucault 1985A, p. 139 speaks of ‘a kind of animalization’: ‘The animals in their sex lives basically follow their physical needs, never anything more or anything else’. 385. ADW I, p. 385; Cats, Tachtigjarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 586. 386. ADW II, p. 587. 387. ADW I, pp. 391-395. 388. Hoffmann 1959, p. 9 points out that in Xenophon this occurs only at the margins. 389. ADW II, p. 588. Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 119. 390. ADW I, pp. 395-398. 391. ADW I, p. 396: Cats refers to Huygens teaching his children letters through play. 392. ADW I, p. 357. 393. ADW I, p. 337. 394. ADW I, p. 337. 395. ADW I, p. 245. 396. ADW I, p. 398. 397. ADW I, pp. 337-338. Idem Huygens, Dag-werck (1627-1637); see Vollemans 1998, pp. 66-68. 398. ADW I, p. 338. 399. ADW I, p. 370. Foucault 1984B, p. 154: ‘Those who submit to such despotic desires condemn their body, soul, and house to ruin’. 400. ADW I, p. 355. 220 401. ADW I, pp. 356-357. 402. Kluiver 1978, p. 57, referring to the classification as noted in Spiegel van de Ouden en Nieuwe Tijdt, p. 67. 403. ADW I, p. 352. 404. ADW I, p. 337. 405. ADW I, pp. 351-352. 406. ADW I, pp. 361 and 390. 407. ADW I, p. 361. 408. ADW I, p. 310. 409. ADW I, p. 367. 410. Hoffmann 1959, p. 12. 411. ADW I, p. 310. 412. ADW I, p. 310. Foucault 1985A, pp. 151-153. 413. ADW I, p. 334. 414. And this is the view of many authors, such as Alberti (Watkins 1969, p. 136). Foucault 1984B, p. 150. 415. ADW I, pp. 368-369. 416. ADW I, p. 369. 417. ADW I, p. 368. 418. ADW I, p. 369. 419. ADW I, p. 331. 420. ADW I, p. 253. 421. ADW I, p. 264. 422. Foucault 1984B, p. 148. 423. Hoffmann 1959, pp. 9-11. With the exception, incidentally, of Roman views where the primacy of domestic management lies in the preservation and multiplication of goods (p. 19). 424. ADW I, p. 334. Erasmus also stresses (though with a different emphasis) the importance of marriage, for ‘the well-being of society depends on it’ (Rummel 1996, p. 8). 425. ADW I, p. 305. 426. ADW I, p. 281. 427. ADW I, p. 281. Foucault 1984B, p. 149. 428. ADW I, p. 281. 221 429. ADW I, p. 281: ‘En sonder dat, wat kan’er doch nutter wesen voor het gemeene best, als tot gevoegsaemheytid en andere goede deugden aen te leyden de genen, die in alle manieren sijn als onverscheyde metgesellen onses geheelen leven’ [And beyond that, what could be more useful to the commonwealth, as leading to kindness and other good virtues in those, who are in all ways the inseparable companions of our whole life]. Cats refers to Montaigne in this (ADW I, p. 281, note b). ‘De eerste gemeenschap’ [The first community], Van Beverwijck wrote, referring to Cicero, ‘is in het houwelick; daer na in de kinderen; dan een huys, ende alles gemeen. Ende dat is het beginsel van een stadt, ende als een zaeyeling van een Gemeene sake’ [is in marriage; there after in children; then in a house, and all in common. And that is the beginning of a town, and as a seedling of a Common Good]. Schama (1988, p. 388). Idem Vives, in Noreña 1970. 430. ADW I, p. 281. Foucault 1984B, p. 149. 431. ADW I, pp. 353, 361. 432. ADW I, p. 366: In addition, Cats also uses the name of the ‘huisvader’ [housefather] and ‘huismoeder’ [housemother] (ADW I, pp. 283-284). Foucault 1984B, pp. 158-159 also points to reciprocity in classical thought. Herweg 1994, p. 39 points to a similar designation in Hebrew: ‘Die Frau ist das Haus (hebr. bet); “Haus” und “Frau” werden hier bedeutungsgleich verwendet’. 433. ADW I, pp. 310 and 318. Jansen-Sieben & Winter 1989, pp. 10-15 argue something similar. In their view, women are valued precisely for what they do. 434. ADW I, p. 336. 435. In doing so, he says, he acknowledges a widespread view. ADW I, p. 281: ‘en niet van de namen der mannen is genomen geweest’. Cats refers to the apostles Peter and Paul, note h: ‘Matriomium apud Romanos à matre, non à patre dictum’. There seems to be a symbolic counter-movement here: for the wife, with her marriage, also receives the name of her husband. 436. ADW I, p. 368. 437. ADW I, p. 366: ‘traegh-gevoet’ [slow-footed], ‘met gesette schreden’ [with firm step], ‘deftig in gebaer’ [dignified attitude]. 438. Foucault 1984B, pp. 153, 156-157. 439. Cats speaks of the mistress of the house in terms of ‘sneeg’ [clever], ‘geset’ [firm], ‘beset’ [wise], ‘deftig’ [sensible], ‘heusch’ [polite], ‘vlijtig’ [industrious], ‘sedig’ [friendly]. 440. ADW I, p. 323. 441. Wigoder 1994, p. 82; Herweg 1994, p. 97. 442. ADW I, p. 323. Hoffmann 1959. 443. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. A4 verso. 444. Herweg 1994, pp. 88-101. 445. Wigoder 1994, pp. 200-202; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 112, 121-125. 446. Schama 1988, pp. 112, 130. 222 447. Schama 1988 especially pp. 103-133. Schama points out all sorts of parallels that Dutch culture made use of during this period. Besides the common use of exempla from the Old Testament (both in poetics and painting, pp. 110, 111, 116, 118, Moses: pp. 121, 125) there are specific characteristics that are borrowed. There is mention of a Dutch Haggada (a narrative of liberation from slavery), the special covenant between God and His people (p. 107), Jerusalem appears in a Hebrew Leiden and Amsterdam (p. 111), the biblical Exodus, understood here in the country as a ‘metaphor for revolution,’ according to Schama, pp. 113, 123. Furthermore, the victory of the tyrant (Pharaoh resp. Spain) and ritual cleansing (pp. 116, 120). 448. Israel 1996, I, pp. 638-646. 449. Schama 1988, pp. 379-479, 390. 450. Herweg 1994, p. 100. 451. Maclean 1980, pp. 6-27. 452. De Groot (Dovering 1952, pp. 16-23) describes in I.5 the legal rules of marriage. Most of these reappear with Cats. 453. ADW I, p. 331. Foucault 1984B and 1985A. 454. Noreña 1970. 455. Cats, Fuyck [Trap], in: ADW II, p. 459: ‘Een Heremyterse, of Klopje, of iemandt anders, afkeerig van ‘t Huwelijck zijnde’ [A recluse or spirital virgin or anyone else who is averse to Marriage] and Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. B2, where Cats speaks of ‘Jonckvrou Schuermans’. 456. Maclean 1980, pp. 26-27 points out that this physiological nuance also permeates the Law and thereby acknowledges persons who may be exempt (such as a pregnant woman, a mother with child are exempt from punishment in certain cases). Cats emphasizes those aspects that concern the privileges and dignity of women in the paradigm of female nature. 457. Maclean 1980, p. 84. 458. ADW I, p. 299. 459. For the section on marriage, see De Groot (Dovering 1952, pp. 16-23). 460. Cats, in: Bolle 1876, p. 245. The first marriage was and remains, in Jacob Cats’ eyes, heaven on earth. Cats, Emblemata Moralia, in: ADW I, p. 135. 461. ADW I, p. 418. 462. ADW I, pp. 419-420. 463. Woman and the Mother together comprise the largest number of pages. ADW, I, pp. 309-376, 383-398. 464. Alberti (Watkins 1969, p. 113). 465. Cats here varies on the familiar theme of the ‘wise and foolish virgins’. See Van Oostrom 1996, Friesendorp & Joosse 1983; Timmers 1974, pp. 43, 81-82. 466. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 499. 467. ADW, I, pp. 244-245. . 468 ADW I, p. 244. 223 469. . Maclean 1980, pp. 28-29. In the first half of the 16th century, the ancient medical writings of Aristotle, Hippocrates, and Galenus (all mentioned by Cats) are translated and extensively commented upon. At the same time, there is a noticeable increase in anatomical observation. Although there are different types of medical movements, some of which are Aristotelian, others more focused on observation, by and large one still continues to think in the system of ancient medicine. 470 ADW I, p. 245. 471. Maclean 1980, pp. 82-92 has pointed out that from the Renaissance onward, the physiology of woman and her innate nature has been the subject of debate. In particular, the question of the contribution of woman to reproduction occupied many scholars at this time. One of the effects within legal thought has been to recognize (and obtain dispensation from) the physical changes that may occur in the female body during the course of her life (such as pregnancy) as separate legal categories. The matrimonial paradigm in the legal sense was thus linked to a physiological system, which provided a refinement, but also lost the coherent conceptual system of before. 472. ADW I, pp. 244-245. 473. See in this context also his narrative on the creation of Adam and Eve in which animals mate ‘soort met soort’ [species with species] (Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, p. 6). . 474 ADW I, p. 245. 475. Cats, Voor-reden [Preface], in: ADW II, (verso A2). Idem Coornhert I.5 (Beckers 1942, p. 13). Foucault 1984B, p. 156, quotes e.g. Xenophon who compares the human desires between man and woman to those of other living beings: ‘The gods have made horses the most agreeable thing in the world to horses, cattle to cattle, and sheep to sheep; in the same way the human being (anthropoi) find nothing more agreeable than the body of the human being without any artifice’. 476. ADW I, p. 333. 477. ADW I, pp. 245, 333, 108, Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. A3. Van Oostrom 1996, p. 191. 478. ADW I, p. 333. 479. ADW II, p. A3 and p. A2. 480. Sneller 1996, p. 165 puts aside Cats’ comparison because, according to her, procreation is only applicable to living beings. ‘That inanimate nature is not capable of all aspects of marriage, and that with this the argument of the naturalness of marriage turns out to be less strong than was pretended, is not reported [by Cats]’. But not only ‘the comparison living/ inanimate nature’ does not hold true, according to Sneller, this incorrectness also applies to the ‘mutual attraction’ between the sexes. ‘The desire for multiplication which could apply to both sexes becomes the desire for fertility for the woman’. 481. ADW I, p. 333. 482. Van Oostrom 1996, p. 179. 483. ADW I, pp. 98, 144, Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, A3 verso, p. 83. ‘Zeekompas’ [Sea Compass], see Cats, Invallende Gedachten [Invading Thoughts], in: ADW II, p. 415. For van Maerlant, see Van Oostrom 1996, p. 179. 224 484. ADW, I, pp. 98-99. The ‘zeilsteen’ is a naturally magnetic mineral (‘magnetite’) capable of magnetizing iron filings, making them ‘stick’. In earlier times it was used as a sea compass. Rubbed amber becomes electrically charged, causing light objects to ‘stick’. The term ‘electricity’ comes from the Greek term for amber (‘elektron’) whose effect was discovered by the philosopher Thales of Miletus (c. 600 BC). For the compass see Luijten 1996B II, p. 30. For the controversy between mathematicians and natural philosophers concerning the natural and occult properties of magnetism, see Van Berkel 1983A, p. 174 (citing Gilbert, De magnete, 1600); Bennett 1991, pp. 185-189; Hutchinson 1997, p. 87 and Stevin Havenvinding, p. 188. 485. ADW I, pp. 293-294 citing Pliny. Van Maerlant discusses this in his Der Nature Bloeme (1270), according to Van Oostrom 1996, ‘The Magic of Gems,’ pp. 170-184. 486. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, A3 verso. 487. For natural philosophical thinking on distance attraction (‘sympathy,’ ‘antipathy’) from Aristotle through Kepler and the occult approach in Renaissance: Dijksterhuis 1950, pp. 18-45; Van Berkel 1983A, p. 184; Yates 1988. 488. Haslinghuis 1986, p. 331. 489. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. A4 verso. 490. Thus, Cats does not conceive of marriage (‘het gezin’, nuclear the family) as the ‘cornerstone of society’! 491. Herweg 1994, p. 38: ‘Nach dem zweiten Schöpfungsbericht beruht die Beziehung zwischen Mann und Frau auf Partnerschaft (...). Demzufolge galten Ehe und Sexualität, Heirat und Familie im Judentum zu keiner Zeit als Zugeständniss an den schwachen Leib, sondern werden vielmehr als die gottgewolte Voraussetzung der Entwicklung zum ganzen Menschsein verstanden’. 492. ADW I, pp. 111, 281 (citing Vives and Aristotle), 286. 493. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, pp. A3 verso, A4 verso. ADW I, p. 420. Coornhert refers to something similar when he speaks of ‘het goddelycke maxel’ [the divine artefact] (Becker 1942, p. 11). 494. ADW I. p. 86. Cats again (citing Cardanus’ De Subtilitate, Book VIII) borrows a magical image from Nature. He tells of the lover who strikes his lute, upon which a second lute vibrates at the right note, witnessed by the movements of the straw. Luijten 1996B II, p. 30. 495. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, A3 verso: ‘Godt de vriendelijke mensch-hoeder, die de liefde selfs is, en uyt de diepte zijner liefde alles heeft voort-gebracht, niet bequamer vindende als het Houwelick, om sijn hoogste liefde den menschen kinderen bekent te maken’ [God the kind man-keeper, who is love Himself, and from the depth of his love has brought forth all things, finding nothing more suitable than Marriage, to make his supreme love known to the children of men]. 496. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, pp. A3 verso, A4, and further ADW II, p. 231. New rhymed editions appear in this period, according to Sneller 1996, p. 125. In the Jewish tradition, the Song of Songs symbolically indicates the relationship between God and Israel (Herweg 1994, p. 48). 497. Sneller 1996, p. 163 points out that ‘in early modern theology (...) it is certainly not always the church [that is] characterized as a bride: the individual believer can also be called a bride’. Luijten 1996B II, p. 36. 498. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. A3 verso. 225 499. Maclean 1980, p. 107, n. 43 points out that this emblemetic meaning was common in the Renaissance. 500. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. A3 verso. 501. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 576-578. 502. Simon Stevin, ‘een lichaem door ons ghedacht hanghende’ [a body imagined by us hanging], in: ‘Het eerste Bovck van de Beghinselen der Weegconst’ [The First Book of the Elements of the Art of Weighing], E.J. Dijksterhuis (ed.), The Principal Works of Simon Stevin, Volume I. p. 98 (p. 2). Luijten 1996B II, p. 36: ‘This pictorial element itself rarely functions as a symbolically relevant motif but directs attention to a specific action or ensures that an object is in the foreground (a close-up technique that had already been used in the art of emblems, mottoes and by someone like Roemer Visscher)’. He considers this phenomenon, when it appears in a religious context, as ‘pictorial metonymia for heaven.’However, this does not yet answer the question of what Cats’ vision of ‘heaven’ then consists of. 503. Spies 1995C; Cropper 1986; Sneller 1996, pp. 139 and 206. 504. Emmens 1981-IE, p. 118 points out the poet’s duty since Petrarch to ‘devote at least one sonnet to the portrait of the beloved’. 505. Thus Maclean 1980, p. 24 summarizes the Neoplatonic view. See further Kelso 1956, pp. 136-209. 506. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 2. 507. ADW I, pp. 240-277; ADW I, pp. 12, 14, 16, 18, 20, 24, 76, 78, 118. 508 . Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. 65. 509. Luijten 1996B II, p. 33 points on the appearance of several emblem collections in Holland just between 1600 and 1618. He mentions Daniel Heinsius, Otto Vaenius, and P.C. Hooft. Frijhoff & Spies 1999, pp. 578 and 600. 510. Sweerts 1988, p. 11. 511. ADW II, p. A2. Maclean (1980, pp. 7-8, 30). Aristotle’s view of woman as mismatched and passive, cold and moist as defining humors, and with a tendency to want to unite with the more complete man, is one held in the Middle Ages. 512. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. A2 verso. 513. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. A2 verso. 514. ADW I, p. 161. Maclean 1980, p. 24. 515. ADW I, pp. 2, 259, 266, 268. 516. ADW I, p. 305: ‘de staet des huweliks by God selfs is ingestelt, en dat in den Lust-hof, en voor den Val; dat de mensche een geselligh dier sijnde, niet en diende alleen gelaten, volgens Godes eygen verklaringe’ [the state of marriage was instituted by God himself, and that in the Garden of Delights, and before the Fall; that man is a convivial animal, and therefore should not be left alone, according to God’s own declaration]. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, pp. 3-14. Hoffmann 1959. 517. ADW I, p. 2: ‘Het deel wil zijn geheel’ [The part wants its whole]. 518. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, A2 verso. 226 519. Grootes 1985 (1996). This is in contrast to Luijten 1996B II, p. 80 who writes: ‘The entrée is and remains love (...) and this will undoubtedly also have been prompted by commercial considerations. Such an eye-catcher simply sells well’. 520. Grootes 1985, p. 11. 521. Grootes 1985, pp. 13-14. 522. For example, Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. 245. 523. ADW I, pp. 259, 266 and 268. 524. Cats himself is deeply troubled by the death of his wife Elizabeth, who was taken by God out of time and out of the world. He visits her grave, which he is drawn to time and again, and realizes that, however lonely he may be because of her ‘aflijvigheid’ [corporeal absence], he will never satisfy this desire by remarrying. His only desire is to share the grave with her once, and thus be reunited with her. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. B. Idem ADW I, p. 286. 525. Coornhert too recognizes similar forces of attraction between creatures, but he is more systematic. He distinguishes ‘genegenheid’ [affection] and ‘liefde’ [love] (as natural inclination, such as satisfying hunger and thirst, and therefore considers it to be chaste) and ‘begeerte’ [lust] and ‘minnen’ [making love] (as inclinations for the sake of lust itself, and therefore unchaste). The latter concern the hot passions of which Cats also speaks, which are directed to carnal intercourse not for the purpose of begetting children, but for its own sake. This unchaste lust, according to Coornhert, is nourished in particular by ‘schilderyen vande naackte Venus’ [paintings of the naked Venus]). Becker 1942, pp. 26-48. 526. ADW I, p. 298. This is in accordance with De Groot. Other literature also reflects on the question of when marriage is actually legally valid. 527. ADW I, p. 297. 528. Cats emphasizes that when promises of marriage have been made, that they must be kept, and this applies not only to the treaty made for daughters, but also for sons. ADW I, p. 288; see also De Groot (Dovering 1952, pp. 19-20). 529. ADW I, p. 297. 530. ADW I, pp. 292-293 and 56. . 531 ADW I, p. 298. 532. ADW I, p. 289. In accordance with De Groot’s instruction (Dovering 1952, p. 19) of public announcement on three consecutive Sundays or market days. 533. ADW I, p. 293. 534. ADW I, p. 295. 535. Cats mentions several rituals that used to underscore the crucial turnaround in the lives of both. 536. Not only in legal terms does the bride pass from her father’s house to her husband’s house, but also in habitus. This antropological ‘exhange of women’ is a kinship affair arranged between men of the two families. ADW I, p. 287, 537. ADW I, pp. 335-336. De Mare 1993. 538. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 68. 539. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 66. 227 . 540 ADW I: p. 497. 541. ADW I, pp. 237-238. . 542 ADW I, p. 242. 543. ADW I, pp. 242-243, 257 and Cats, Self-stryt, in: ADW I, p. 183. 544. ADW I, pp. 242-243. 545. ADW I, pp. 256-257 and 247. 546. Cats, Self-stryt, in: ADW I, pp. 183-184: ‘Veld-teycken, alle eerbare jonge lieden toegeeygent’ [Field-sign, applicable to all honorable youngs men], as an introduction to the story of Potiphar’s wife who tries – in vain – to seduce Joseph into adultery. . 547 ADW I, p. 257. 548. Maclean 1980, pp. 12, 26-27, 38-39 points out that in terms of physical nature, there is no conceivable in-between area in Renaissance thought: there are two sexes in the sense of two polarities, without the possibility of overlap. 549. ADW I, p. 310. Luijten 1996B II, p. 31 notes that the clothing in Van de Venne’s prints is ‘in accordance with the prevailing fashion of the early seventeenth century’. 550. De Groot (Dovering 1952, p. 11): ‘Geboren menschen zijn mannen ofte wijven: want diemen man-wijven [L. Hermaphroditi sive Andragyni] noemt, werden aen d’een ofte d’ander zijde gereeckent, nae den aerd die in haer overtreft’ [Born human beings are men or women: for those called man-women [L. Hermaphroditi sive Andragyni] are counted to one side or the other, according to the nature that is dominant]. 551. Maclean 1980, p. 12. Idem for Stevin and Alberti. 552. De Groot (Dovering 1952, p. 11) ‘wanschapene gheboorten [L. monstra] houdmen voor geen menschen, maer veel eer is men in deze landen ghewoon de selve terstond te smooren’ [abnormal births [L. monstra] are not considered to be human beings, but in these countries it is often customary to take their lives immediately]. 553. Maclean 1980, p. 30. Reinier de Graaf proved that also the woman with an ovum (by his discovery of the so-called ‘Graafse follikel’, published in De mulierum Organinis, 1672) contributed to reproduction. With this, women’s sex organs also became significant and not merely (as with Galenus) formed by analogy with the man. Lindeboom 1973, p. 49: ‘Since it was not possible to create man immortal “uyt oorsaak van sijn stoffen” [caused by its substances],nthe Master Builder of the Universe has nevertheless, in order to accommodate the impermanence of the human race, provided a means not only to keep it alive for several thousand years, but even by “nieuwe spruyten in eeuwigheit te rekken” [stretching into eternity by providing new offspring]’. 554. ADW I, p. 307. Others do so as well, such as scholastics (Maclean 1980, p. 12). But as late as 1595, a German writing, Disputatio nova contra mulieres appeared that defended the opposite. The writing went through many reprints in the seventeenth century. 555. The virgin must not be a subject of conversation, even in a positive sense. She must not get a (good, nor bad) “name”. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 511. . 556 ADW I, p. 242. 557. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 524, p. 525. In this sense, Cats emphasizes that the female character has a different nature than male characters. ADW I, pp. 246, 262. Female characters are also more at risk in courting. 228 558. And further, ‘polite, attentive, friendly, courteous, gentle, not rough, without cheating, sincere, faithful, straightforward, not false, honest’ (Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 98). 559. Maclean 1980, pp. 34-35 shows that on this basis, for example, one tries to reason to what extent a fiery woman is hotter than the most cold man. 560. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 496. 561. A variant of the wise virgin carrying a burning lamp. See Timmers 1974, pp. 43, 81-82. 562. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 499, 22. 563. ADW I, p. 238. 564. Idem Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 137, 207); Van Schuurman (Bouwman 1996, p. 54); De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, pp. 51, 54). 565. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 52. 566. ADW I, p. 246. ADW I, p. 168: ‘Daer is een soet, een eerbaer neen, Dat alle maegden is gemeen’ [There’s a sweet, an honorable no, That applies to all virgins]. Further: ADW I, p. 242; Cats, Sinne- and Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 14. 567. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, p. 1, pp. 3-10. Adam, who wants to immediately fulfill his God-given marital duty with the newly created Eve, is forced by her to procrastinate four times. First she wants to think over the wonderful nature of her existence, the creation as a whole and her youth, and then she wants to show her gratitude to God. Only then, while walking through the wonderful Garden of Eden, does she get in the mood and tastes (before the Fall) the paradisiacal conjugal love. 568. ADW II, pp. 3-10. Adam in turn welcomes Eve, saying that he is her husband (and not her brother or father as Eve contemplates). He reports to her all that he has to offer her (a garden, an arbor), as well as wealth and power (over the animals and the people). He finally persuades her ‘in God’s name’ to consummate the act of love: this sacred act makes her the Queen of the people, of Nature, of all animals, of heaven and earth. 569. Herweg 1994, p. 66: ‘Da das biblische Gebot “Seid fruchtbar und mehret euch” nur für den Mann verpflichtend ist, scheinen hier ein Ausgleich und Schutz für die Frau gegeben zu sein: Sie bestimmt über den Zeitpunkt des Zusammenseins und schliesslich auch über Nachkommenschaft per se’. 570 . Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 508. 571. Cats, Emblemata Moralia, in: ADW I, p. 134. 572. Cats describes the Zeeland custom of carrying young spinsters into the sea in the spring, a custom that does not meet with his approval because, in his opinion, it is an overly crude way of getting to know the nature of the spinster. Only gentleness and honesty are useful in this. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 505, 10, 139, 24. In other words, one must knock at the right door at the right time. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 36. 573. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 501. 574. ADW I, pp. 183-184. 575. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 76. 576. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 28. 577. ADW I, pp. 248, 259, Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 526-527. 578. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 74. 229 579. ADW I, pp. 119, 495 and on p. 70: ‘Draeghje doecken, wacht voor hoecken’ [Wear your scarf, avoid corners]. 580. ADW I, p. 251. 581. Idem Le Ménagier de Paris (Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 219-220), Alberti (Watkins 1969, p. 96). 582. ADW I, p. 287. 583. Rummel 1996, pp. 80-92; Noreña 1970. 584. ADW I, p. 270; idem (Coulton & Power 1928, p. 112). 585. ADW I, pp. 253 and 287. 586. ADW I, pp. 115, 289. 587. ADW I, p. 287. 588. ADW I, p. 8. Idem Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 114-119). 589. ADW I, p. 286. Sometimes Cats (citing Erasmus and legal scholars) nuances this statement. Then he points out that from mixing some inequalities, an even more solid marriage can be forged. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 516. 590. ADW I, pp. 146, 523, 245. Cats points out that the father of the bride, if he has promised a dowry, must pay it. If he does not keep his promise, his daughter will be blamed, which is a bad start to the new marriage (ADW I, p. 288). Moreover, the father should not boast beforehand about a dowry he does not have (ADW I, p. 287). It should also be prevented that the suitor or the spinster should be financially deprived of the money and property due to them by an avaricious father or stingy guardian (ADW I, p. 288). 591. For some ‘unequal’ marriages (such as of Crates and Hipparchia), see Cats, Trou-ringh in: ADW II, pp. 51-59. 592. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 517 and 453-460. In Cats’ example in which a young woman marries a very learned man, the dissimilar pair appears to be united in their mutual love in a rare way. But they are unfit to establish a house. They are so absorbed in their mutual love that they own neither house nor hearth. 593. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 515. In Nature, too, the bearing of a common yoke by animals of unequal stature takes great effort. 594. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 514. 595. Cats compares the ripe virgin with a fruit that must be picked at the right time and in the right way. 596. ADW I, p. 245. Cats mentions ‘veroude Maeghden, en de gene die haer kans verkeecken hebben’ [Old Virgins, and those who lost her chance]. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 484. 597. ADW I, pp. 257, 277. Alberti mentions 25 years for the man (Watkins 1969, p. 114). 598. On this point, Cats differs from both Erasmus and Vives. Both are of the opinion that the establishment of a suitable marriage is not the business of the virgin, but of the parents (Rummel 1996, pp. 5-6; Noreña 1970, p. 210). 599. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 521-522. Cats tells of a case where two fathers once decided that their son and daughter would make a good match for each other. But alas, the son will not be forced. Nor should a virgin marry under duress, ADW I, p. 270. 600. ADW I, p. 287. 230 601. . ADW I, p. 243. The least dirt, the smallest blemish, remains forever imprinted. With the result that the virgin is ‘bedot gelijck een vuyle bruyt’ [fooled like a violated bride]. 602 ADW I, p. 243. 603. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 491. 604. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 491-528. 605. ADW I, p. 237. 606. ADW I, p. 238. 607. ADW I, pp. 243 and 239. 608. ADW I, p. 238. 609. Idem Vives (Noreña 1970, p. 210). 610. ADW I, pp. 502, 32, 78, 503, 183, 506. 611. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 25. 612. ADW I, p. 239. 613. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 38. 614. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 531, 533, 529, 536, 534-535; p. 523: although the father insists (and the neighborhood is of the same opinion) the mother says that the spinster still has time enough to marry; the result is that she ‘heeft gepopt met Jorden onsen knecht’ [has played with Jorden our servant], and so she has been cheated and dishonored. 615. ADW I, pp. 252, 540. 616. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 538. 617. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW, I, p. 539. Idem Vives (Noreña 1970, p. 212): ‘The girl who has lost her virginity will live forever in total consternation; or rather she will die every day, being physically alive and morally destroyed’. 618 . Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 540. 619 . Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 534. 620. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 528, 499, 534-535, 543, 505. 621. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 541. 622. Cats, Emblemata Moralia, in: ADW I, p. 140. 623. Maclean 1980, p. 57; Noordam 1982, p. 309. 624. ADW I, p. 321. For emotions in the early modern period, see Konst 1993; Van Gemert 1992; for the Middle Ages, see Stuip & Vellekoop 1998. 625. ADW I, p. 314: ‘Dat ja geringe saecken, oock by een deftig man geen kleine roering maecken’ [That yes minor matters, even in a sensible man make no small stir]; p. 322: ‘om het minste ding, genegen om te kijven’ [for the slightest, inclined to quarrel]. 626. ADW I, p. 390. 627. ADW I, pp. 281, 305. 628. ADW I, p. 281. The writings Cats consults date from past centuries, from distant lands, from his own time, and from neighboring lands. 629. ADW I, p. 305. 231 630. ADW I, p. 306. 631. For an overview of the debate, Maclean 1980. 632. ADW I, p. 305. 633. ADW I, p. 305. 634. ADW I, p. 305. 635. ADW I, p. 306. 636. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW II, pp. 531, 544. Luijten 1996B III, p. 492. 637. For an overview of Dutch seventeenth-century drama, see Konst 1993. 638. See Leuker 1992A. 639. Ten Berge 1979, pp. 200-201, 211. 640. Luijten 1996B II, pp. 86-87. 641. ADW I, p. 337. 642. ADW I, p. 322. 643. Konst 1993, pp. 6-30. 644. Konst 1993, pp. 11-13. 232 645. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 541: ‘Van de Beweginge des Gemoets in ’t gemeen’ [Of the Movements of the Mind in General]: Maar wie doch is soo dom, die noyt en heeft gelesen, Dat uyt het lijf en ziel bestaat des menschen wesen? Ey siet dat lief-tal paar gedommelt onder een, Doet staag en over al sijn saken in ‘t gemeen. (...) Wel vrienden, nu het lijf dus heult met onsen geest, Let op het aartsche deel, maar op de ziele meest. Leert u verkeerden aart en quade drift en temmen, Want sooje dat volbrengt, gy sult in weelde swemmen; Doch hoe dit noodig werck behoort te zijn gedaan, Dat wil ick, t’uwen dienst, ten kortsten over gaan. Al wie soeckt wel te zijn, die moet voor allen dingen Sijn drift, sijn herts-gewoel, sijn binne kragten dwingen: Want als het innig deel niet uyt den regel gaat, Al watje menschen noemt dat wordt’er deur gebaat. Wel aan dan schout verdriet, en nijt, en Minne-vlagen, Wilt oock te grooten vreugd en gramschap van u jagen, Drijft eer- en geldsugt uyt, weert angst uyt uwen geest, En maackt dat gy alleen den grooten Schepper vreest. Noch wil ick even wel van niemant oyt begeeren, Dat hy uyt sijn gemoet sal alle tochten weeren; Een geestig Hovenier besnoeyt het weelig kruyt, Maar roeyt noch even wel geen nutte planten uyt. Een boom van wilden aart die kan het enten baten, Hy kan door goet beleyt sijn wrangen aart verlaten: Een die van tochten werdt gedreven in der jeugd, Werdt, als hy die besnoeyt, gebogen tot de deugd. Soo dient dan hier besorgt, dat geest en buyte leden Haar dragen na den eysch, haar voegen na de reden. [But who is so stupid, who has never read, That the human being is body and soul? Ah see the lovely couple quietly fiddle about They go about their business in peace and quiet, everywhere (…). Well friends, now that the body works with our spirit, Take heed of the earthly part, but above all of the soul. Learn to tame your wrong nature and evil urges, For if you accomplish this, you will swim in joy; But how this necessary work should be done, I want to explain that briefly for your benefit. Anyone who tries to be good, must for all things Force his temper, his passions, his inner forces: For if the inner part does not deviate from the rule, Then all men benefit. So, shun sorrow, envy, and and Love-flashes, And chase away too great joy and wrath, Drive out greed for honor and money, drive out fear from your mind]. 646. Konst 1993, pp. 12-13. 647. ADW I, pp. 323-324. 648. ADW I, p. 312. 233 649. ADW I, pp. 321, 324, 338 and on p. 282: ‘wetende dat ruym de helft van de menschelijke sonden door de tonge alleen begaen worden’ [knowing that well over half of human sins are committed by the tongue alone]. Both women and men are subject to it. Separate writings are devoted to the tongue as an evil instrument of inner urges, such as by William Perkins (1593), The Government of the Tongue, translated into Dutch in 1663. Also mentioned in Le Ménagier de Paris (Coulton & Power 1928, p. 179). Groenendijk 1984, p. 51. 650. ADW I, p. 324. 651. ADW I, pp. 341-342. 652. ADW I, pp. 312, 314. 653. ADW I, p. 315. 654. ADW I, p. 324. 655. ADW I, p. 331. 656. ADW I, p. 342. 657. ADW I, pp. 342, 367. 658. ADW I, pp. 321, 324. Cats makes an exception to this when the woman is lewdly groped by a raw man. Then she must scream and shriek as loudly as she can, and she must inform her husband of it. 659. ADW I, p. 391. 660. ADW I, p. 384. 661. ADW I, p. 382. 662. ADW I, p. 383. 663. ADW I, p. 382. 664. ADW I, p. 385. 665. ADW I, p. 384: ‘soete schult te quijten aen de vrou’ [pay sweet debt to wife]. In footnote k) he refers to a Latin explanation of these three aspects of conjugal union, presenting a different order, incidentally. 666. ADW I, p. 376: ‘De stoffe van de vrou is midden uyt de leden. Gy, heersch dan met bescheyt, en niet als naer de reden, Gebruyckt geen lieve vrou tot alle kleyn bedrijf, Sy is uw bed-genoot, en niet uw vuyl-jongwijf’ [The substance of woman comes from the middle of the members. You, then, rule with judgment, and not otherwise than with reason, Do not use a dear wife for all kinds of trivial matters, She is your bed-mate, and not your lowly maid]. 667. ADW I, p. 385, citing, among others, Augustine, De civita dei (IV.11). Herweg 1994, p. 66-67 points out that in the Jewish tradition this monthly menstrual pause is taken seriously in marital play (namely, that the wife is not always willing), and that as a result the different tempi of the spouses can become more aligned. 668. ADW I, p. 385. 234 669. ‘Sprich zu ihr [deiner Frau] zunächts Worte, die ihr Herz und ihr Denken beruhigen und erfreuen. So wird dein Denken und deine Absicht mit den ihren in Harmonie sein. Spricht Worte, die in ihr Leidenschaft, Einheit, Liebe, Begehren und Lust erwecken, und Worte, die Ehrfurcht vor Gott, Frömmigkeit und Keuschheit bewirken (...) Warte mit deiner Leidenschaft, biss sie bereit ist. Fange liebevoll an. Lasse ihren Samenengruss zuerst kommen...’. Thus Herweg 1994, p. 51, referring to Nachmanides, a 13th century Jewish author of a Book for the Spouse. 670. Herweg 1994, pp. 67, 51: ‘Wisse, dass der Beischlaf heilig und rein ist, wenn er in rechter Weise, zur rechter Zeit und mit der rechten Absicht vollzogen wird (...). Denn Beischlaf heisst "erkennen" (Gen. 4:1), und dies ist nicht umsonst (...). Er wäre nicht so genannt, wenn ihm nicht grosse Heiligkeit innewohnte,’ says Nachmanides. 671. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 586-587: Teel-konst voor de gene die genegen zijn haar gesin en met eenen de Wereldt te vermeerderen [Art of Growing for those who are inclined to multiply her family and at the same time the World]. 672. ADW I, pp. 379, 380, 383: ‘De trouw is sonder smet, Ook in haer eygen werck, ook in het echte bed’ [Fidelity is without blemish, Even in her own marital work, even in the conjugal bed]. 673. ADW I, p. 324, note (a): ‘Socrates, vide ad hoc Senec. De Ira’. 674. Konst 1993, pp. 74-124; Sluijter 1986. 675. Coornhert (Becker 1942, pp. 85-92, mn. 87-88: ‘Het voorhoofd rimpelt, d’oghen vlammen, de lippen beven, de tanden knersen, de hayren styghen als borstelen opwaarts ende ‘anghezicht verandert zyn verwe’ [The forehead wrinkles, the eyes flame, the lips tremble, the teeth grind, the hair rises up like brushes and the face changes color]; Konst 1993, p. 94. 676. Idem Van Mander (Miedema 1973, pp. 156-183); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 112. 677. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 541. 678. Konst 1993. 679. For Aristotle see Pannier & Verhaeghe 1999, p. 54: ‘Such an attitude presupposes a great commitment and an optimal quality of action. Thus, one should certainly not eliminate the feelings of fear, anger and desire, nor experience them in a moderate way, but experience them for the right reason, at the right time and in front of the right people’. 680. De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, p. 36) calls women who are unclothed and undisciplined ‘monsters of nature’. Alberti (Watkins 1969, p. 220). 681. ADW I, p. 324. 682. ADW I, p. 324. 683. ADW I, p. 322. 684. In a similar way, a child who is sad because of a moist brain gets rid of the evil vapors by crying in moderation. ADW I, p. 397. 685. ADW I, pp. 323, 362. 686. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 541. Konst 1993. 687. Cats makes an exception for the woman whose honor is violated by a nefarious crook. Then she is obliged to break her silence. He even encourages her to scream, ADW I, p. 328. 688. ADW I, p. 364. 689. ADW I, pp. 391-393. 235 690. ADW I, p. 420. 691. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 552, 553: ‘Gy die van minnen queelt en eet geen hane-kammen, Geen Oesters, bever geyl of beijers van de Rammen, Wacht u van heet geback en wat het bloet ontsteeckt, Eet ruyt en kout gewas dat heete tochten breeckt.’ [You who suffer from lovemaking, do not eat cock's combs, no oysters, castoreum, or ram's claws, Avoid hot pastries and what inflames the blood, Eat rue and cold crops that break hot passions]. 692. For, he says, these means are bad for the fruit. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 546. 693. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 541. 694. ADW I, pp. 175-234. 695. Konst 1993, p. 14: ‘For if reason controls the inclination, the ultimate passions not only acknowledge its control, but are thereupon in the service of the good. Passions, in this case, are nothing but consented inclinations, and because reason has weighed good and evil beforehand, no moral dangers lie in them. Nor will these sanctioned passions exceed their measure. Reason not only sets them in motion, but can, moreover, exercise a constant supervision over them’. 696. Konst 1993, pp. 9-10 points out that Aristotle and his followers advocated ‘the moderation of the passions (metriopatheia)’ in this way. 697. Konst 1993, p. 7 points out that others, such as Spiegel, Vossius, and Coornhert, have more accurately described this psychic mechanism employed by Cats thinks. 698. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW I, p. 141. 699. ADW I, pp. 238, 322, 319, 325, 331. 700. Don’t punish her if she doesn’t do everything ‘opten regel doet’ [according to the rule]. 701. ADW, pp. 307, 378, 381. 702. ADW I, p. 307. 703. For Erasmus (Rummel 1996, p. 7). 704. ADW I, pp. 319, 325. 705. ADW I, pp. 328, 326. 706. ADW I, p. 314. Not only a man, says Cats, but also the child. ADW I, p. 334. 707. ADW I, p. 319. 708. ADW I, pp. 362, 363. Idem Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 100). 709. ADW I, pp. 363, 397. 710. ADW I, pp. 312, 372. 711. ADW pp. 324, 321. 712. ADW I, p. 310; Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, p. 459. 713. ADW I, p. 392. 236 714. ADW I, p. 339. 715. ADW I, p. 312. 716. ADW I, pp. 339, 337. 717. ADW I, p. 364. 718. ADW I, pp. 325, 326. 719. ADW I, pp. 358, 360. Possibly in the house, for the husband, she may dress more lavishly when he likes that. 720. ADW I, p. 369. 721. This theme of the bad habit of ‘makeup’, used by the married woman is seldom absent. With Xenophon (Foucault 1984B, pp. 155-156), Erasmus (Rummel 1996); also with Alberti, Wittewrongel, Vives, Fray de León it is an ever-recurring theme. 722. ADW I, pp. 330, 313. 723. ADW I, p. 340. 724. ADW I, p. 339. 725. ADW I, p. 338. 726. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. 2: ‘Het trouwen dient de selve meer om een soet geselligh leven, ten dienste van Godes Kercke, van het vaderlant, en haer eygen huys te leyden, als om ketelinge van haar weeligh vleesch vernoegen te geven’ [Marrying serves more to lead a sweet cozy life, serving God's Church, the fatherland, and her own house, than by caressing to give pleasure to her voluptuous flesh]. 727. ADW I, pp. 311-312. 728. She must pay attention to what moves him, and express him: she must show, reflect ‘het beelt van haren man’ [the picture of her husband]. ADW I, p. 314. 729. ADW I, p. 312. 730. ADW I, p. 322. 731. ADW I, p. 328. 732. Cats writes that in other cases a man is entitled to chastise others: such as the master of the house his servant, the master his pupil, a father his child. But he forbids a man to raise his hand against his wife. ADW I, p. 339. 733. ADW I, pp. 339, 313. 734. ADW I, pp. 313, 316, 318. 735. ADW I, pp. 356, 364. 736. ADW I, p. 365. 737. ADW I, pp. 349-350. 738. ADW I, p. 361. 739. ADW I, p. 361. 740. And it is not exceptional for Cats to reflect on the doings of rough and ‘onbesneden’ [unpruned] people. ADW I, p. 319. 237 741. ADW I, p. 338: ‘Sy, die met eygen wil haer bannen van de straet’ [Those who, of their own will, banish themselves from the street]. Cats is referring here to the danger that threatens a mistress of the house when her husband is away for months at a time. A solitary one, without a spouse, is quickly tempted. 742. Incidentally, Foucault 1984B shows that male chastity is implied in the Greek economy of the house but is not explicitly exchanged for the chastity of his wife. The asymmetry is greater in this sense since the respect and status of the mistress of the house does depend on her chastity. 743. ADW I, pp. 355-356. 744. ADW I, p. 356. 745. ADW I, p. 356. 746. ADW I, p. 314. 747. ADW I, p. 370. 748. ADW I, p. 314. 749. ADW I, p. 322. If wife or husband set a bad example, it will undoubtedly bring about the wrong behavior in the other. ADW I, p. 340. 750. ADW I, pp. 292, 321. 751. Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, p. 254): ‘After all, the affection given responds to the merit of both parties, then equality in a certain sense arises, and, one assumes, is typical of friendship’. 752. ADW I, pp. 326,328. Aristotle points out that man and woman by nature possess different specific excellences, which also makes the friendship they bestow upon each other different in nature. Apart from this, he considers man and woman inherently unequal, namely man is superior over woman. 753. ADW, I, p. 395: ‘Gy, let op dese plicht: ’t is eene van de saecken, Die u en uw geslacht, en al de weerelt raecken’ [You, pay attention to this duty: it is one of the things, Which affect you and your lineage, and all the world]. 754. ADW I, p. 395. Idem Herweg 1994, p. 91. 755. ADW I, pp. 396-397. 756. ADW I, p. 398. 757. ADW I, p. 341: ‘Siet daer het trouverbont van alle glans berooft’ [See there the marriage covenant robbed of all luster]. And a little further: ‘men segge wat men wil, ‘t en is geen Christen aert, Te scheyden van ‘t gesin wanneer men is gepaert’ [one says what one wants, but it is not Christian, to separate from the family when one is coupled]. 758. ADW I, p. 322. 759. Cameron 1991, pp. 400-401. ADW I, p. 357. 760. Herweg 1994, p. 95 points out that such an infusion of the divine into everyday life has long been central to Jewish tradition: ‘Der Wille zur Bindung an das Göttliche legt eine Stimmung der Würde über den Alltag’. ADW I, p. 357: ‘Bewijst in uw gewaet, met uwe reyne seden, Bewijst met uw gebaer, met uwe goede reden, Bewijst’et overal, dat ghy een Christen bloet In uwen leden draegt, in uwen boesem voet’ [Prove in your clothes, with your pure morals, Prove with your gesture, with your good sense, Prove it everywhere, that you bear a Christian's blood In your members, and nourish in your bosom]. 238 761. ADW I, p. 372: Al wat wy met verdriet voor aerdsche dingen leeren, Dat moet hier, met het lijf, ter aerde weder keeren; Maer wat men God ter eer hier in de sielen prent, Dat wort nog voor de doot, nog door de doot geschendt; Dat sal tot aller tijt ons aen de siele kleven, Ook na het duyster graf, ook in het eeuwigh leven; En, schoon dit groote Rond in duysent stucken viel, Noch sal de weerde deugt niet scheyden van de siel. [All that we learn with sorrow from earthly things, That must return to earth here, with the body; But what one for the honor of God here in the souls imprints, That is neither violated before death, nor from death; That will stick to our souls forever, Even after the dark grave, even in eternal life; And, if the great Globe fell into a thousand pieces, Yet the worthy virtue shall not separate from the soul]. 762. Luijten 1996B, II, p. 90 makes a connection between Cats’ religious presentations in the emblems and ‘the strict Calvinist climate that dominated the intellectual milieu of Zeeland’. Idem Porteman 1984A and 1984B who regularly refer to Cats’ Calvinism with terms like ‘the Calvinist motivated poet’, ‘the Calvinist moralists’, ‘Calvinism (...) and emblematics reach out here’, ‘it appears that this moralizing must have happened especially under Calvinist impulse’, linked to an ‘unbridled moralizing drive’, ‘didactic-moralizing function’ of the emblem or ‘emblematic moralization’. 763. Aerts & te Velde 1998, p. 274 point out that ‘Calvinism’ as we know it today is of recent vintage. 764. For, Van Deursen 1980, p. 91 writes (in: Volk en kerk, deel IV van Het kopergeld van de Gouden Eeuw): ‘Two churches [Reformed and Catholic], with different forms of piety and religious experience. So different, in fact, that those who were brought up in one have difficulty in correctly describing and appreciating the spirituality of the other community’. 765. For the analogy with the democratic development in the study of Torah by all ordinary Jewish men (and women), see Wigoder 1994, pp. 44-45. 766. ADW I, pp. 340-134. 767. Herweg 1994, pp. 89, 88-91, 100. 768. Hoffmann 1959, p. 30. 769. Thus, ‘vroom’ [pious] is a term that occurs only sporadically with Cats and, moreover, not in the sense of hypocritical (decent), but in the seventeenth-century sense of valiant, upright, honest, virtuous, vigorous (Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 301). Cats, Galathea, in: ADW I, p. 432. 770. ADW I, p. 322. 771. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, pp. A2, 3. 772. ADW I, p. 300. 773. ADW I, p. 300. 774. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. 248. 239 775. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. 220, p. 249. The entanglement with the ‘wederpaar’ [counter-part, counter-pair] in the face of God is part of this. ADW II, p. 409: ‘Godes eeuwig Hof’ [God’s eternal Garden]. 776. ADW I, p. 410. Both Adam and Eve in their first physical unification, and the Angels are without sinthe former because they were still without knowledge (they had not yet eaten from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil), the latter because they are without a body, and are spiritually one. 777. Cats refers (ADW I, p. 365) to Joseph Hal who claims otherwise: ‘Motion is ever accompanied with inquietnesse, and both argues and causes imperfection; whereas the happy estate of heaven is described by rest, whose glorious spheres in the meane time doe so perpetually moove, that they never are removed from their place’. 778. It is true, however, that as Cats gets older his writings become heavier in tone. His attention shifts more to considerations of the art of dying. 779. ADW I, p. 283: ‘Een man, die pleegt des Heeren werk, En maeckt in huys een kleyne kerk’ [A man, who carries out the work of the Lord, And makes in the house a little church]. 780. ADW I, p. 4. 781. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, pp. 3-4. 782. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, p. 4. The Fall, when Eve and Adam eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, is not mentioned in this story, only a general allusion (the fruit is not for the mouth, and there is a nasty creature in the trees). 783. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, p. 4. 784. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 250; ADW I, p. 410. Cats borrows the description in the Houwelick from the Apocalypse. 785. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 250. 786. ADW I, p. 410. For a similar description, see: Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 250; ‘... blaeu sapphir, den hemel vergeleken ...’ [.... blue safier, the sky alike...]. (ADW I, p. 294). 787. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, pp. 4, 248. 788. For divergent ‘theories’ on the meaning of the creation of the woman from (the rib of) the man, see Maclean 1980, pp. 12-27. See also De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, pp. 41-42). 789. That the woman is then deemed both the highest treasure and also described as helping the man means that being a fellow human being for Cats involves both strength and compassion for the other. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, p. 5. 790. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, p. 5. 240 791. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, pp. 5-7. Adam acknowledges that it is correct for Eve to call him brother, father, and husband, yet he wishes to honor the latter name in particular through physical intercourse. Second, Adam argues at length how lonely he did get in Paradise. Wandering through mountain and valley, he saw the beautiful foliage, the sunny beaches, and the animals that loved each other. But no animal was there for him, he was all alone in the world. Finally, his wish for a human friend has been fulfilled and that is reason enough for him to immediately fill this gap. For the third time, Adam tries to persuade Eve to do this, by summing up what he has to offer her: solid grounds, a powerful people over whom he has command, he is rich, and he has for his amusement an ‘over-lustigh dal’ [earthly paradise]. With this he tries to persuade Eve to cooperate and to surrender to the sweet love-making – obviously not for themselves, but in the service of the miracle All. Alas, it is to no avail and the next argument is needed. Adam points out that God’s gift is not only insightful to man but must be accepted as a miracle. Although he is busy with the many duties God has placed on him, he still has some time to take possession of the most beautiful property God has given him. Although Adam is intrigued by all of Eve’s reflections and he is glad that she is so wise, then suddenly for him the time is up. God has made them to be together and now they must accomplish that task. 792. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, pp. 5-7. Eve, just created, looks around in wonder. What Adam is for a creature she does not understand. Is it a brother, a father, a husband? She does notice that she is touched to her core by his appearance – he looks good and what he says is nice. When Adam proposes to proceed to the deed, as God has instructed them, she is dismayed. She asks for time to consider, for such a work should only be undertaken after careful consideration. First, she wants to understand how God created heaven, sun and earth, and how that relates to her creation from Adam’s breast. She parries his second attempt with an appeal to her youth, and she asks for a few days’ leave to devote herself to her Creator, to be better prepared for her wedding day. The third time Adam tries to convince her, she lapses into uncertain contemplation, but again she argues the necessity of delay. She feels a spiritual exaltation of her soul in the Kingdom of Heaven and an urge to give at length thanks to the Lord who gave her life. When Adam finally decides, they set off together for their walk through the wonders of nature, after which both become ecstatic and truly become a couple. 793. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, p. 7. 794. Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, p. 8. 795. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 251. 796. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 250-251. 797. ADW I, p. 321: the need for ‘godzaligheid’ [devotion], as the basis of firm friendship. ADW I, p. 282. 798. The Fall, the transgression of God’s law, is described not as the conclusion of the ‘Gronthuwelick’, but at the beginning of the ‘Geestelick Houwelick’, [Spiritual Marriage] ADW II, p. 221. The couple is tempted by the serpent’ ruse to eat the forbidden fruit. In the Houwelick it is Eve who first accepts the fruit, but Adam is not without fault either says Cats. Idem Maclean 1980. 799. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 221. 800. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, pp. 248-249. 801. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, pp. 248-251. ADW I, p. 415. 802. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, pp. 249. 241 803. This is a classical view, in which although the soul is considered immortal, there is no mention of Hell. Close 1969, 1971; Panofsky 1984, p. 105. 804. At least compared to early Christian art, images in Gothic portals or depictions of the Last Judgment such as by Lucas Van Leyden or Hans Memling (1474-1479). This image, called ‘Ongemeene, doch bequame af-beeldinge van s’mensche leven’ [Unusual, but appropriate depiction of human life] is the only exception. 805. ADW I, p. 302: ‘Pooght met uw gantsche kracht te weeren uyt’er hel, Uw weerde jockgenoot, uw diere bedgesel’ [Strive with all your might to keep out of hell, Your worthy pleasure-seeker, your dear bedfellow]; ADW I, p. 398: ‘Leert, vaders, tot besluyt, leert, voogden, uwe weesen, Den God van hemelrijck, en niet den duyvel vreesen: Die met een reyn gemoet is aen de hemel vast, En schrickt te geener tijt, schoon hell’ en duyvel bast’ [Learn, fathers, in conclusion, learn, guardians, your being, To fear the God of the kingdom of heaven, and not the devil: Who with a pure mind is bound to heaven, Shall never fear, though hell and devil cry out loud]. 806. ADW I, pp. 323, 342, 364, 331. The limbo is an equally fictional place: he describes it as the abode of (personified) ‘ijverzucht’ [zealotry, jealousy]. ADW I, p. 367. 807. ADW I, p. 361: ‘Geen Staet en kan bestaen, geen Vorst en heeft gebied, Indien het woeste Grauw geen hell en hemel siet’ [No State can exist, no Sovereign wields power, If the ferociousRrabble sees no hell and heaven]. 808. ADW I, p. 398. The contrast is rather with the wretched flesh, tormented as it is by sickness, old age and fear, which he describes intermittently. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 249. Instead of terrifying images where Evil resides, in Cats there are only fragments that remind of this. These are images that he prefers not to bring to mind, as evidenced, for example, by his description of an evil woman (ADW I, p. 323; ADW II, p. 485). 809. ADW I, p. 266; Cats, Dood-kiste [Coffin] in: ADW II, p. 485. 810. In the two witch trials he conducted, he actually refuted the ‘real’ existence of ‘de heks’ [the witch], according to Ten Berge 1979. ‘Heks’ is initially not a Dutch term, but in the fifteenth century a Swiss dialect word, according to De Blécourt 1992, p. 331. More often, ‘toveres’ [sorceress] was used, although from the seventeenth century onwards, ‘heks’ also appeared in Dutch texts. 811. ADW I, pp. 374-375. It is also expected, mistakenly says Cats, that explanations can be given in this way about diseases, or an accident that has happened to someone. ADW I, p. 362. 812. ADW I, p. 266. 813. ADW I, p. 388. 814. De Blécourt 1992, pp. 358-359 points out that the ‘witch trials’ in Holland ended around 1600. For another explanation of this phenomenon, see sections 4.2.2. and 4.2.3. 815. ADW I, p. 262. 816. ADW I, pp. 361, 364. 817. ADW II, p. 250. 818. Woman and man can also learn something from their bad husband and bad wife respectively. ADW I, p. 340. 819. ADW I, p. 351. 242 820. ADW I, p. 339: ‘Het is van ouden tijt een regel in de trou, Of leert, indienje kont, of lijt een swacke vrou’ [It is traditionally a rule in allegiance, Or teach, if you can, or suffer a weak woman]. 821. ADW I, p. 386. 822. He advises servants in a similar way. If they suffer from the injustices of the master or the mistress of the house, this should be accepted. ADW I, p. 364. 823. ADW I, p. 340: In spijt van alle spijt, leer even harde slagen, Leer schande, leer gewelt oock sonder morren dragen; En pleeg geen ander wraeck als door een droeve traen, Jae gaet dan uwen vrient oock des te soeter aen (...) ‘O! die met reyne sugt op hem alleen betrout, ‘Wort door het leet gesterckt, en in verdriet gebout. [In spite of all regret, learn hard blows, Learn disgrace, learn violence, bearing without grumbling; And commit no other revenge than a sad tear, Yea, then, go upon thy friend with even more kindness (...) ‘O who with pure sigh trust in Him alone, ‘Is strengthened by sorrow, and built up by grief]. 824. ADW I, p. 410. 825. ADW I, p. 364. 826. ADW I, p. 410. 827. ADW I, pp. 341, 334-335, 374, 339-340, 260. 828. ADW I, pp. 409-411, 413, 417, 424. 829. ADW I, pp. 301, 322, 328. 830. ADW I, pp. 405, 403. 831. ADW I, p. 403. 832. ADW I, p. 409. Only the renewed human being with a Christian heart is sufficiently prepared to go on the journey says Cats. ADW I, pp. 412-413. 833. ADW I, pp. 406, 417. 834. Cats (Bolle 1876, p. 236). 835. In its place comes a wedding of souls. ADW I, pp. 412-413. ADW I, p. 424: ‘Tree in tot uw gemoet’ [Enter into your mind]. Cats advises the aging woman to ‘vernieuwt uw Christen hert, vernieuwt’et alle morgen, gaet, sift u eygen selfs, en dat met alle vlijt, tot datje metten geest in goeden vrede sijt’ [renew your Christian's heart, renew it every morning, go, sift your own selves, and that with all diligence, until you are in good peace with your mind]. 243 836. Moreover, it is only in the old age that the true covenant of marriage becomes apparent. Those who enter into marriage out of ‘domme lust’ [inexperienced lust] and because of a beautiful body, see the body decay as time goes by. What remains then is not much. Only when one marries for love and remains faithful to the other can one support each other in old age and talk about preparing the soul for death. ‘Als man en echte wijf vermengen haer gebeden, vermengen haer gepeys, en rusten mette leden, dat is een soet geheym, dat vry al dieper gaet, als ick en weet niet wat, en sotte minnepraet’ [If husband and true wife mingle their prayers, their thoughts, and rest with their members, that is a pleasant secret, which surely goes much deeper, than foolish love talk]. Cats (Bolle 1876, p. 237). 837. ADW I, p. 404. And this applies, perhaps superfluously, to the aged man as well. ADW I, p. 411. 838. Both spouses must be of the same religious belief, because, says Cats, there are enough disagreements in a marriage already. ADW I, p. 267. 839. ADW I, p. 372. 840. ADW I, p. 263. Several authors point out that the human being (male and female) is endowed by Nature with other gifts. The human being walks upright, with his head raised, and is thus created for the contemplation of the universe created by God. Idem Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 133-134) and Van Schuurman (Bouwman 1996, pp. 57-58). 841. ADW I, pp. 373-374. 842. ADW I, pp. 263-264, see also 408-409. 843. ADW I, p. 323 speaks of ‘egels’, which are leeches, Verdam 1981, p. 161. 844. ADW I, pp. 323, 407. 845. ADW I, p. 264, p. 407; Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. A2. 846. Incidentally, the master and mistress of the house must also teach the servants to be godly. ADW I, pp. 361-362. 847. ADW I, p. 356. Using text readings, the Scripture is used as a stage through which to mirror domestic events. ADW I, p. 395. 848. ADW I, p. 356, footnote b). 849. Before the Reformation, praying in the house was also a religious duty: Le Ménagier de Paris (Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 47, 194); Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 212, 167, 147-148, 213, 230, 119-120). 850. ADW I, pp. 324-325, 340. 851. ADW I, p. 349. 852. Conversations to God, (‘Held, Vrede-vorst en Wonder sijt genaemt’ [named Hero, Prince of Peace and Miracle]), ADW I, p. 410. But also engaged in battle with God. ADW I, p. 349. 853. ADW I, p. 397. 854. ADW I, p. 391. 855. ADW I, p. 384. 856. ADW I, p. 276. 857. ADW I, pp. 385, 301; Vives (Noreña 1970, p. 210). 858. ADW I, pp. 338, 405-406. 244 859. Reinier de Graaf (1672) appears to have a similar view on procreation as a possibility to overcome transience (Lindeboom 1973, p. 49): ‘Om dit meesterstuk te volbrengen heeft Hij verscheidene organen zó kunstig voortgebracht, dat men terecht mag uitroepen, dat God Almachtig, indien ergens, hierin steeds een groot en zeker teken van zijn wonderbaarlijke voorzienigheid en wijsheid heeft gegeven’ [To accomplish this masterpiece He has so artfully brought forth several organs, that one may justly exclaim, that God Almighty, if anywhere, has always given in this a great and sure sign of His wonderful providence and wisdom]. 860. Marriage is also reflected in the symbolic conjugal union of Christ with His Church and the fusion between God’s Word and His people. 861. Occasionally, when he speaks of the suffering of Christ (Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 251) and the resurrection (ADW I, p. 106). 862. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, pp. 251-252. 863. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 240; ADW I, p. 382. 864. Matthew 1.19-25 describes how first Joseph is told in a dream by an angel that the woman to whom he is betrothed is pregnant with the Holy Spirit. Not wanting to disgrace her, Joseph wants to leave her, but is urged by the angel to stay. Luke 1.26-38 describes the angel Gabriel coming to give Mary his message and convey her sacred duty to God. 865. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, pp. 239-240. 866. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 245. 867. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 245: Doen hem sijn Moeder droeg, men kan geen Vader wysen, En Joseph voelt een wrok in sijn gedagten rysen; Hy sag in droefheyt aan dat uytverkoren pant, En dagt om harent wil te reysen uyt het lant. Maar Godt belet sijn vlucht, en liet hem openbaren Wat aan de jonge Maagt van Godt is weder-varen. [When his Mother carried him, one could not point out a Father, And Joseph felt a resentment rising in his mind; He looked in sadness at the chosen one, And thought because of her to depart from the land. But God prevented his flight, and made him reveal What happened to the young Virgin of God]. 868. Cats speaks repeatedly of the ‘edel Vrouwenzaad’ [noble Woman’s Seed]. Although the miracle child is implanted from heaven in the womb of the Virgin, although she becomes filled with the spirit, it is she (Cats speaks of her as ‘Godinne’ [Goddess] on p. 250) who will cause the female seed to be born. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, pp. 239-240. 869. Cats, Lof-sangh, in: ADW II, p. 245. 870. ADW I, p. 364 (‘Het lant is Godes huys’ [The land is God’s house]); Cats, Gront-houwelick, in: ADW II, p. 8 (‘Als of het gantsche rijck maer een gesin en waer’ [As if the entire empire was just one family]). 245 871. ADW I, p. 315: Het sal uw swacke ziel geweldig konnen helpen, En dickmael in verdriet uw droeve tranen stelpen, Indien uw Christen-hert geduerig voelen kan Den Hemel in het huys, en God in uwen man. [It will be of great help to your weak soul, And often in sorrow still your sad tears, If thy Christian heart may continually feel Heaven in the house, and God in your husband]. 872. Wigoder 1994, pp. 46-47. 873. Getting married, Cats says, is not a human endeavor. 874. Cats, Voor-reden of Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, ***2. 875. Burke 1988, 1993; Muir 1997; Leuker 1992B; Pleij 1988; Van Oostrom 1993; Spierenburg 1998; Duijvendak 1996; Bremmer 1993; Schmitt 1993; Spicer 1993; Roodenburg 1993A, B, 1995A; Muchembled 1993; Keunen & Roodenburg 1992; Grijp 1992, Leuker & Roodenburg 1988, Van de Pol 1988A and B. 876. Sneller & Thijs 1993 (Cats), p. 146: ‘Historians, looking for ideological aspects of patriarchal society, can see in the texts of this author the message that gave to men the supremacy at the expense of women, defended in many ways on the basis of divine and natural arguments. In Houwelick, a rigorous social structure is designed, in which the man is the superior and the woman places herself under him without resistance’. 877. Raatgever 1990, pp. 55-56. Zemon Davis & Farge 1992, pp. 3-4. 878. Le Ménagier de Paris is the title of a manuscript attributed to an unknown but well-to-do Parisian burgher of some education and knowledge. He wrote the work between 1392-1394, instructing his much younger wife. The work was not published in Paris until 1846 (Coulton & Power 1928, pp. xiii-xvi, 1-41). The humanist Leon Battista Alberti (1404-1472), illegitimate child and employed, among other things, as papal secretary, wrote the bulk of Della Famiglia before 1434, followed in 1437 by volume IV (with a revision in 1441). Alberti’s family, exiled from Florence since 1393, was the subject of the work. Until 1734, when the work was first published, only manuscript copies circulated (Watkins 1969, pp. 1-20; Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 7-13). Fray Luis de León (1528-1591) joined the Augustinian Order at the age of sixteen and was appointed professor of theology in Salamanca in 1564. Until his death he taught there – apart from a four-year imprisonment imposed on him by the Inquisition (P. Geurts, in: Lissone Wierdels 1925, pp. vii-xviii; Hufton 1995). William Perkins (1558-1602), educated in Cambridge, was one of the most important Puritan theologians at the time of Elizabeth. His extensive oeuvre had a wide distribution in Protestant Europe, but also had a Spanish translation. He married Thimothye Cradocke in 1595, with whom he had seven children, three of whom died early and the last of whom did not see life until after his death (Breward 1970, pp. xi-xiv, 3-31). 879. Such as Hufton 1995; Kloek 1993A, B and C; Casagrande 1991; Vecchio 1991; Leuker 1991; Grieco 1992; Desaive 1992; Wigley 1997; Yates 1988. 880. Spies 1986B, 1995C; De Baar 1992; Sneller 1996; Van Beek 1995; De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984); Van Schurman (Bouwman 1996); Schenkeveld-van der Dussen 1991, 1994; Vecchio 1991; Van Eck 1992. 881. Spies 1995C, p. 17: ‘Van Schurman herself – defending the ability and the right of women to intellectual activities – emphasized that, in her opinion too, marriage and housekeeping came first’. 246 882. De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, p. 256). 883. Van Oostrom 1987, p. 286. 884. Block 1980B; Burke 1988, pp. 15-29, 273-290. 885. Grijp 1992, for example, examines a ‘true marriage story’ of ‘een beslapen weduwe’ [a widow who shared the bed with a man she was not married to]. Leuker 1992A. 886. Leuker 1992A, p. 315. 887. ADW I, p. 249, Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 115. Cats, Liefdes Vosse-vel, in: ADW II, pp. 259-267, p. 263. 888. In order to persuade the widow to make love, the suitor (without the widow’s knowledge) makes it appear that he has slept in her house during the night. When Ruth, her chambermaid, gets the house ready in the morning (by opening the windows) he posts himself in the doorway of the house in a half-dressed state (with a sleeping cap on, pants half open, chamber slippers on his feet, etc.). Neighbors see him and draw from this the (incorrect) conclusion of dishonorable behavior of the widow. As a mock song, the news spreads ‘like an oil slick’ through the people and the town. 889. Grijp’s comment (1992, p. 346) is mainly concerned with the function of the mockery song, which is only a part of the urban turmoil that Cats describes. 890. Cats, Liefdes Vosse-vel, in: ADW II, p. 267. 891. ADW II, p. 260. 892. ADW II, p. 264. 893 ADW II, p. 265. 894. ADW II, p. 267. 895. ADW II, p. 267. Thus, suitor Faas’ ruse and the inserted frame narrative told by Ruth, her chambermaid, both serve to allow the widow to honorably remarry. 896. ADW I, p. 338. 897. ADW I, pp. 250, 251-252. 898. Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 212-260); Fray de León (Lissone Wierdels 1925, pp. 94-139); Xenophon (Foucault 1984B, pp. 155-156); De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, pp. 210-213); Vives (Noreña 1970, p. 209); Erasmus (Rummel 1996, pp. 98, 113). 899. Vecchio 1991, p. 120; Casagrande 1991, pp. 91-94 (speaking in terms of ‘guarding,’ ‘all uncontrolled stimuli of the flesh according to the rules of chastity are contained,’ ‘make-up conceals a boundless pride’); idem Grieco 1992, pp. 52-53; Desaive 1992, p. 205. 900. ADW I, p. 265. 901. ADW I, pp. 321, 375. 902. ADW I, p. 366. Cats himself, incidentally, bears this honorary title. 903. Cats compares the prestige of the house and the housemates to that of the physical sight (‘Snijt men sijn neus af men schent sijn aengesicht’ [Cut off one's nose, one violates one’s face], Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 574). One should, according to Cats, not make the defects in the house public, but cutting them (the housemates in this case) off is impossible. 904. For exempla in the form of hunting scenes, see ADW I, pp. 575, 595 and Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 291, 393. 247 905. On the importance of restraint by the husband in favor of the wife in conjugal relations, see 3.1.2.; Herweg 1994, p. 66. ADW I, pp. 507, 508, 262. 906. ADW I, p. 366. 907. ADW I, p. 366. 908. ADW I, p. 360. 909. ADW I, p. 358. 910. ADW I, p. 358. 911. ADW I, p. 264. 912. ADW I, p. 251. 913. ADW I, pp. 264-265, 360, 562, 341-342. 914. Wives not infrequently try to get their husbands to buy splendid gowns by means of cunning and deceit: ADW I, pp. 359-360. If the man of the house explicitly wants his wife to wear beautiful clothes, she should accept this, on the condition that only her husband can see them. ADW I, pp. 358-359. 915. ADW I, p. 367: ‘Beleeftheyt, schoone verw, gesontheyt in de leden, Wel-spreken, kloek beleyt, beqaemheyt in de seden’ [Benevolence, pretty hues, agreeableness in the limbs, Eloquence, prudent management, pleasantness in morals], Cats writes in the case of the woman. 916. Attention to the table and the meal is also flourishing from the religious side. In a general Christian sense, the domestic meal is associated with ‘the spiritual meal’. In the Calvinist milieu, this is linked to ‘the last Supper’ through prayer. Prayer before meals is also part of Christian upbringing. We find these elements not only in Cats and other authors, but also in the many paintings depicting the family at meals. De Jongh 1986; Franits 1986. 917. Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 594-597. Under the title ‘Om goede en heusse manieren over Tafel te houden en het tegendeel te vermijden’ [To keep good and polite manners at the Table and avoid the contrary], Cats lists 27 rules borrowed from Erasmus. See also Elias 1990, who interprets these rules as an effect of a new inner constellation rather than a presentation of the ancient habitus of dignity. 918. ADW I, p. 352. 919. ADW I, p. 367. 920. Wiesner, 1993, p. 243 confirms this (unintentionally) when she cites a view of two Protestant English women. 921. ‘Men doet zijn schoen uit bij het betreden van de echtelijke slaapkamer’ [ One takes off his shoe when entering the conjugal bedroom]. For overly youthful people who do not know how to behave, it is better that they do not enter, says Cats. ADW I, pp. 379, 383. 922. Van Oostrom 1993, p. 349, n. 12. 923. On the use of the eliasian ‘gêne’ [embarrassment] concept, see Muchembled 1993, Burke 1988, Meder 1994, p. 86, Spierenburg 1998, p. 13, and many others. 924. Perkins (Breward 1970, pp. 428, 418). 925. Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 228-9). 926. Le Ménagier de Paris (Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 42-43). 927. Fray de León (Lissone Wierdels 1925, p. 181). 248 928. Erasmus, for example, adopts such classical conceptions of posture and gesture. Bremmer 1993, p. 38; Burke 1993, p. 90. 929. ADW I, p. 361. 930. ADW I, pp. 311, 318, 497, 515. 931. ADW I, p. 314. 932. Idem De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, p. 49); Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 207-208). 933. ADW I, p. 307. 934. ADW I, pp. 341, 315, 319, 321, 318, 320. 935. ADW I, pp. 281, 341. 936. ADW I, p. 307. 937. ADW I, pp. 282, 283, 284. 938. ADW I, pp. 306, 308. No one, says Cats, is free from what God has commanded. 939. ADW I, p. 306. 940. ADW I, p. 301, referring to Xenophon, among others. 941. ADW I, p. 318. 942. Van Schuurman (Bouwman 1996, p. 54) understands this to mean ‘kennis van talen en van geschiedenis, alle disciplines, zowel de hogere, de zogenaamde faculteiten, als de lagere, de zogenaamde filosofische wetenschappen’ [knowledge of languages and of history, all disciplines, both the higher, so-called faculties, and the lower, so-called philosophical sciences]. She only excludes theology. Van Schuurman is confirmed in this not only by Cats, but also by Van Beverwijck who in his assignment to Van Schuurman (Roothaan 1996, p. 51) points out that ‘de natuur u niets heeft ontzegd en geleerdheid alles binnen handbereik heeft gebracht’ [nature has denied you nothing and learning has brought everything within reach]. See also Van Eck 1996. Cats points out (ADW II, p. B2-verso) that his work is also suitable to be read by virgins and young spinsters. Kelso 1956, pp. 38-77 discusses the differing views on education of girls and the choice of studies they can pursue. She, too, points out that the vocation of women is seen as mistress of the house and that to this end knowledge and wisdom are necessary (pp. 78-135). 943. From Schuurman (Bouwman 1996, p. 59): ‘Iedereen die heel vaak tijd voor zichzelf heeft en vrij is van openbare bezigheden en verplichtingen, valt een tamelijk rustig en vrij leven ten deel. En een vrouw heeft heel vaak – vooral wanneer ze ongehuwd is – tijd voor zichzelf etc. Dus’ [Anyone who very often has time for oneself and is free from public pursuits and obligations will enjoy a rather quiet and free life. And a woman very often especially when she is unmarried - has time for herself etc. Thus]. 944. Van Schuurman (Bouwman 1996, p. 55). A page earlier she pointed out that not everyone is the same: ‘Sommige vrouwen zijn immers schrander, anderen dommer. Verder zijn sommigen arm, anderen rijker. Sommigen, tenslotte, worden meer in beslag genomen door verantwoordelijkheden binnenshuis, anderen minder’ [After all, some women are shrewd, others dumber. Further, some are poor, others richer. Some, finally, are more preoccupied with responsibilities within the house, others less so]. 945. From Schuurman (Bouwman 1996, p. 55). 946. From Schuurman (Bouwman 1996, pp. 58, 60, 70, 63); Spies 1995C, p. 17. 947. From Schuurman (Bouwman 1996, p. 55). 249 948. ADW I, pp. 331-332. 949. ADW I and II, pp. B4, B4 verso, Van Beverwijck 1643; Van Schuurman (Roothaan 1996, pp. 51, 52). Fray Luis de León (Lissone Wierdels 1925, p. 11); Wilcox 1994. 950. For example: ADW I, pp. 328, 322, 362, 338, 412-413, 417, 406, 288, 239, 341, 324-325, 340. 951. ADW I, p. 322. Herweg 1994, p. 100: ‘Es druckt ein tiefes Empfinden von Zusammengehörigkeit, Zusammenhalt und Zuhause aus’. 952. Herweg 1994, p. 90. 953. ADW I, p. 324. 954. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 44. 955. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 100. 956. ADW I, p. 366: ‘Huys-vrouw is uwen naem, Een woort, ook uyt de klank, tot uwen plicht bequaem’ [House-wife is your name, a word, a tone, appropriate to your duty]. ADW I, pp. 376, 374: ‘Dit was gelijck een les de vrouwen voor gelesen, dat sy een heylsaem ding in huys behoort te wesen, dat sy moet voor den man, voor kint, en boden sijn, Een troost in alle quael, een staege medecijn’ [This was thus a lesson read to the women, That she should be a healing thing in the house, That she should be for the husband, for child, and servants, A comfort in all miseries, a constant medicine]. Herweg 1994, p. 100. 957. Herweg 1994, p. 84: ‘Jüdische Frauen müssen als “Priesterinnen” des Hauses über umfangreiche halachische Kentnisse verfügen, und es heisst, dass Männer/ Gelehrte, die ja zugleich auch Familienvater sind, sich mit ihnen, den “Realistinne” des Lebens, in alle Dingen beraten und überdies den Rat beherzigen sollen’. 958. Thus, public sphere and private sphere do not drift apart, as is commonly believed. See also Olbrich & Möbius 1990, p. 92: ‘Die sittenlehre von Cats entsprechen dem Auseinandertreten von öffentlichem und privatem Leben, und sie befestigen es. Der Männer Geschäftigkeit, Risokobereitschaft, Agieren in die Ferne befindet einen Ausgleich in der Ruhe und Überschaubarkeit der Familie. Hier hat die Frau volle Autoriät, auch Cats ermahnt die Männer, ihren Frauen nicht hineinzureden in die Angelegenheiten des Hauses. Der Mann ausser Haus, die Frau in Haus - die konsequente gesellschaftliche Arbeitsteilung bedeutet auch, dass die beziehungen eines Ehepaares ganz auf die familiäre Grundlage verwiesen sind. Die Genrebilder mit den still geschäftigen Hausfrauen verdeutlichen den Konflikt aus gegenläufigen Interessen und die Suche nach ihrer Synthese’. 959. Herweg 1994, pp. 99-100. 960. ADW I, pp. 281, 306. 961. ADW I, pp. 281, 305, 307. 962. ADW I, pp. 281, 282, 360-361. 963. ADW I, pp. 289, 391. 964. ADW I, pp. 521, 311. 250 965. ADW I, pp. 306, 307, 308, 281, 305. Cats provides six arguments, taking a position in the centuries-long theological debate over whether not only celibacy can be considered as such. (Maclean 1980; Van Eupen; Spies 1986, 1995). 1) God instituted the first marriage (in the Garden of Eden, before the Fall); 2) man is a sociable animal; 3) man and woman are there to help each other (idem Vives (Noreña 1970, p. 208); 4) marriage is an indispensable means against unchastity; 5) through offspring the survival of man is guaranteed; 6) God’s word confirms this. 966. Herweg 1994, p. 81: ‘Zur Stabilisierung der Gesamtgesellschaft nach dem Verlust der Eigenstaatlichkeit verstärkten die Gelehrten des Talmuds durch ihre Gesetzgebung die Polarisation von Männer- und Frauenwelt und ihrer verschiedenen Aufgabenbereiche. So erweiterten sie die rechte der jüdischen Frau in Haus und Familie, schränkten sie aber in bezug auf ihr öffentliches Auftreten ein’. Further pp. 91, 94: ADW I, pp. 300, 374. De Mare 1993. 967. ADW I, p. 368, referring to (footnote d) Bodin: ‘La famille bien conduicte est la vraye image & modelle de la Republique & la puissance domestique ressemble à la puissance souveraine’. Bodin, de la Repub. lib. 1. cap. 2. 968. Cats (like Stevin) uses many metaphors related to the warrior. ADW I, pp. 210, 3, 242. 969. Montanari 1994; Jobse-van Putten 1995; Mennell 1989; Riley 1994; Jansen-Sieben & De Winter 1989; Grieco 1992. 970. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 579. 971. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, pp. 100, 44. 972. Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 197-198, 142, 145). 973. ADW I, p. 403. 974. Pontfoort 1984, p. 126. 975. ADW I, p. 257. 976. An issue Alberti addresses the second book where making a good marriage and finding the right spouse is the subject of discussion (Watkins 1969, p. 120). 977. Vecchio 1991, pp. 108-109 points out that in addition to the Ethica Nicomachea, it is mainly the pseudo-aristotelian Oeconomica that carries on and in which the house (and the duties of women) are central. ‘In the course of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries the works of Aristotle are repeatedly commented on, and they are irrevocably at the root of the attention paid to the house and of any attempt to outline from it a possible morality’. See also Casagrande 1991, pp. 74, 86-87. 978. It is not, therefore, a symbolic sense, as is sometimes thought. Luijten 1996B II, p. 86. 979. Peeters 1996A speaks of a ‘firm sociobiological basis’ of moral behavior. Human beings, as well as animals, ‘help and comfort each other, show solidarity, settle conflicts, share food, exhibit a sense of social order and social relationships’. The ethologist Frans De Waal confirms in his book Van nature goed (1996) that morality is not the sole preserve of human beings. 980. For the varying interpretations of Coornhert’s work over time, see Becker 1942, pp. VIIXXXII; Berkvens-Stevelinck 1989; Fresco 1989. 981. Becker 1942, pp. 7-8. 982. Demyttenaere 1990A; Hoffmann 1959. 251 983. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 112; Becker 1942, p. 182, Watkins 1969, pp. 218, 221, 210, 211-212. 984. In three books, for example, De Pisan engages with three ladies sent by God – Lady Reason, Lady Justice, and Lady Law – to build her city of women, centering on marriage as ‘a holy and worthy institution recommended by God’. 985. De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, pp. 132-134). 986. ADW I, p. 376; De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, pp. 133-134). 987. Watkins 1969, pp. 125-127. 988. Kloek 1993, p. 67, n. 7 speaks of ‘good housewife’. In the Catholic milieu more known as 'strong woman'. In fact, Fray Luis de León also comments on this (Geurts, in: Lissolde Wierdels 1925, p. 6). 989. Hufton 1995, p. 513, n. 14... 990. Hufton 1995, p. 513, n. 14. 991. With the subtitle: or a short survey of the right manner of erecting and ordering a family, according to the scriptures. As a motto he gives this work, first written in Latin and later translated into English, Proverbs 24.34: ‘Through wisdom is a house built, and with understanding it is established. And by knowledge shall the chambers be filled with all precious and pleasant riches’. A translation, by the way, very different from that in the ‘Statenvertaling’, the first official Dutch translation of the Bible, commissioned by the Synod of Dordrecht, 1618). 992. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 110-111, 145, 149, 213. Vecchio 1991, pp. 113-114 says: ‘But it is no coincidence that in the tract, the so-called Ménagier de Paris, written by a husband for a wife, much emphasis is placed on the theme of obedience. In it the equivalence loveobedience leads to an absolute submission of the wife to the will of her husband, and this goes so far as to relieve her of all responsibility, including moral responsibility’. 993. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 112. 994. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 113-136. This story, derived from Boccacio, was translated into Latin by Petrarch and later adopted into French and English (including by Chaucer). The husband, a wealthy marquis, tests Griselda’s loyalty by taking her daughter and then her son away from her after birth on the grounds that his subjects do not want his offspring. He then organizes a second marriage to his own daughter (now 12 years old, who, like his son, has been raised by his sister) and sends Griselda back to her father. At the wedding ceremony to which Griselda is invited (who wishes him an honorable marriage with his new wife), the man finally confesses his tactics. After which the couple lived happily ever after (Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 5-6). Idem De Pisan (omitted in the 1984 Dutch translation, by the way) and Vives (Hufton 1995, p. 51 mentions it as an exemplum; ‘who bore all the humiliations imposed upon her by her husband to test her patience and obedience’). 995. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 137. 996. Idem Van Schuurman, pp. 65, 80; De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, p. 163); Van Beverwijck 1643, pp. 211-212: ‘Laet maer de Oeffeninge komen by het verstant der Vrouwen, sy zullen tot alle dingen bequaem wesen. Sulcx blijckt uyt het gebruyck, en gewoonte van verscheyde volckeren (...). Waer uyt blijckt, dat niet de Nature, maer de Gewoonte, de Vrouwen af-hout, om yet wel uyt voeren’ [Let but the Exercise come to the mind of the Women, they will be fit for all things. This appears from the use, and custom of different peoples (...). From which it appears, that not Nature, but Custom, keeps Women from doing anything well]. 252 997. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 42-43. 998. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 46: with games and amusements that keep the mood up and provide material for conversation. 999. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 43, 194, 47. 1000. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 52-53. 1001. For the view on women, dignity, and unprotectedness in the town, see De Pisan (Pontfoort 1984, pp. 29, 255, 42). 1002. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 54-60. 1003. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 60-61. 1004. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 65-93, especially p. 66: this framework, incidentally, has been further refined. For example, the author distinguishes five types of pride: ‘to wit, disobedience, vainglory, hypocrisy, discord and aloofness’. 1005. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 67: ‘The gifts of nature come from the body, and are beauty, valour, fair speech, intelligence, understanding. The gifts of fortune are wealth, eminence, honour, prosperity; and the gifts of grace are virtue and good works. All these gifts will a proud man barter to the Devil for the false coin of vainglory’. 1006. It is, as with Cats, an ‘art of gardening,’ Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 195-204. 1007. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 194, 205. 1008. And here Le Ménagier de Paris differs from the Roman household in the first centuries of the Christian era, which bears resemblance to it (Foucault 1985A). 1009. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 213, 214-215, 45, 215-216, 219. He recommends that the money owed to creditors be carefully recorded (p. 207). 1010. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 216. 1011. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 172. 1012. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 176: ‘And thus shall you preserve and keep your husband from all discomforts and give him all the comforts whereof you can bethink you, and serve him and have him serve in your house, and you shall look to him for outside things, for if he be good he will take even more pains and labour therein than you wish, and by doing what I have said, you will cause him ever to miss you and have his heart with you and your loving service and he will shun all other houses, all other women, all other services and households’. 1013. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 173, and further 174-175. 1014. Alberti does consider the house, family, and children to be something owned by both spouses (Watkins 1969, p. 211). The newly married woman is shown around his domain by her husband and made familiar with the order that prevails there (Watkins 1969, p. 208). 1015. Watkins 1969, p. 108. 1016. Watkins 1969, pp. 114, 112. 1017. Watkins 1969, pp. 114-119. Alberti considers 25 appropriate as the age of marriage. 1018. He too distinguishes natural love (which animals also pursue), the love that poets describe (Cupid setting the human heart on fire with his bow and arrow), conjugal love, erotic love, and so on (Watkins 1969, pp. 95-108). 1019. Watkins 1969, pp. 114-115. 253 1020. Watkins 1969, pp. 165-166, 132-133, 171-172. 1021. Watkins 1969, p. 186. 1022. Watkins 1969, pp. 225, 230. 1023. Watkins 1969, pp. 204-206, 36, 180. 1024. Watkins 1969, pp. 122-123. 1025. Watkins 1969, pp. 56, 60, 61, 68, 72. Alberti, by the way, here (unlike in Cats), mainly addresses the father on his educational duties. 1026. Watkins 1969, p. 180. 1027. Watkins 1969, pp. 207, 210. 1028. Watkins 1969, pp. 222-226. 1029. Watkins 1969, pp. 210-211, 221-224. See also Coornhert (Becker 1942, pp. 80-81) and Le Ménagier de Paris (Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 215-216, 219). 1030. Watkins 1969, p. 219. See also Beckers 1942, pp. 66, 194 and Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 208, 210-211, 218, 212. Coornhert too, writes that the constant repetition of the same household activities makes housekeeping second nature. (Becker 1942, p. 60). 1031. Watkins 1969, p. 222. 1032. Watkins 1969, pp. 209-210. 1033. Alberti does point out the dangers when men become involved in the care of babies because they cannot know their own strengths. Watkins 1969, pp. 50, 111. 1034. Watkins 1969, pp. 120-122. 1035. Watkins 1969, pp. 128-129. 1036. Watkins 1969, pp. 129, 125-127, 113. 1037. Watkins 1969, pp. 125-127. 1038. Alberti considers unregulated sexual intercourse, drunkenness, etc. in the marital bed to be out of the question. Watkins 1969, pp. 120-121. 1039. Watkins 1969, pp. 104-105. 1040. Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, pp. 239-270). 1041. Watkins 1969, p. 112: ‘Marriage, therefore, was instituted by nature, our most excellent and divine teacher of all things, with the provision that there should be one constant life’s companion for a man, and only one’. 1042. Watkins 1969, pp. 212-213. 1043. In doing so, Alberti goes so far (in a similar way as Vives) as to deduce from this the emergence of the social community (the republic) (Watkins 1969, p. 137; Noreña 1970). 1044. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 4. 1045. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 33. 1046. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, pp. 3-4. 1047. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 5. 1048. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, pp. 177-178. 254 1049. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 8. ‘Zoo wil God niemand in Zijn huis, die niet de taak volbrengt, die Hij hem heeft opgelegd. Vermaant Christus niet in het H. Evangelie (Matth. cap. XVI v. 24) dat “een ieder zijn kruis opneme”? Hij zegt niet, dat hij het kruis van zijn buurman opneme, maar gebiedt, dat een ieder zich met zijn eigen kruis belaste’ [Thus God does not want anyone in His house who does not complete the task He has set for him. Does not Christ exhort in the Gospel (Matthew chapter XVI v.24) that ‘each one take up his cross’? He does not say that he should take up his neighbor’s cross, but commands that everyone should take up his own cross]. 1050. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, pp. 10-11. 1051. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 12. 1052. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, pp. 12-13: ‘t Is immers een uitgemaakte zaak, dat, wanneer de vrouw haar plicht doet, de man en het gezin haar liefhebben, de kinderen deugdzaam worden, de vrede heerscht en de have vermeerdert’ [For it Is a foregone conclusion, that when the woman does her duty, the husband and the family love her, the children become virtuous, peace reigns and the property increases]. 1053. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 17: ‘Waarlijk, wanneer er hier op het ondermaansche iets is, dat verdient geacht en gewaardeerd te worden, dan is het de goede huisvrouw’ [Truly, if there is anything here on earth that deserves to be esteemed and appreciated, it is the good housewife]. De León points out (pp. 28-31) that chastity is inherent in the married woman; it is the foundation of her marital state of life. 1054. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 14. De León lists similar characteristics of the bad woman (taken from Eccl. cap. XXV, v. 17-18-19-22-23-26-27-31-32-33): jealousy, quarrelsome, chatty malice, wrath and so on. 1055. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 3. For example: Xenophon (p. 22), Plutarch (p. 56), Aristotle (p. 65). 1056. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 3. 1057. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, pp. 32-37. And thus the avoidance of the opposite of the vices (as gluttony, profligacy, excess, sloth, ostentation, quarrelsome...), pp. 38-41, 78-80, 148: ‘... want welbeschouwd, zou ik niet weten, of er iets monsterachtigers is, iets, wat meer van eigen aard afwijkt, dan eene barsche, gemelijke, opvliegende vrouw’ [.. because, all things considered, I do not know whether there is anything more monstrous, something that deviates more from one’s nature, than a rude, mean, hot-tempered woman]; pp. 149-151. 1058. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 34: ‘En de natuur, die in alles voorziet, paart ze, opdat de een den ander zijn eigenschappen leene en ze te zamen, in stand houden, wat ze, gescheiden, niet vermogen’ [And nature, which provides for everything, pairs them, so that the one borrows the other’s qualities and together they maintain what, separately, they are not capable of]. And further, pp. 33-34: ‘De man, die de kracht bezit den grond te bewerken en het veld om te spitten, de wereld door te reizen en met anderen handel te drijven, kan te gelijker tijd zijn huishouding niet bestieren; het komt met zijn levenswijze slecht overeen, dat hij daarvoor zorg draagt. De vrouw daarentegen, die van nature zwak en kalm is, is tot huiselijkheid en spaarzaamheid geneigd en is daardoor zeer geschikt om te bewaren, terwijl zij om dezelfde reden voor den inspannende en zwaren arbeid van geld te verdienen niet geschikt is’ [The man who has the strength to work the land and dig the fields, travel the world and trade with others, cannot manage his household at the same time; it is not in keeping with his way of life that he should do so. The woman, on the other hand, who is weak and calm by nature, is inclined to domesticity and frugality and is therefore very suitable for keeping, while she is not suitable for the strenuous and heavy work of earning money for the same reason]. Idem pp. 42-43. 255 1059. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, pp. 152-156. 1060. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, pp. 21-22. A strong woman is ‘a masculine woman’ (in the sense in which Socrates expressed it through Xenophon): ‘dat wat we hier mannelijk of sterk noemen, heeft in het oorspronkelijke een groote kracht en beteekenis, zoodat men ternauwernood, met een schat van voorbeelden, alles zou kunnen aantoonen, wat het beteekent. Het wil zeggen: wilskracht, sterkte des harten, arbeid, rijkdom, gezag, voordeel en eindelijk duidt het aan – op wie dit woord, van toepassing is, – een volmaakt wezen, uitmuntend in al deze deugden. Zij, die dit alles in zich verenigt, is een goede huisvrouw, en zij, die dit alles niet in zich heeft, is het niet’ [That which we here call masculine or strong, has in the original a great power and meaning, so that one could scarcely, with a wealth of examples, show all that it means. It means strength of will, strength of heart, work, wealth, authority, advantage, and finally it indicates - to whom the word applies - a perfect being, outstanding in all these virtues. She who has all this in her is a good housewife, and she who does not have all this in her is not]. 1061. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, pp. 24-25. 1062. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 26. 1063. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, p. 45. 1064. Lissone-Wierdels 1925, pp. 141, 157: ‘Integendeel, als er iemand te vinden is, die invloed op den man heeft, dan is het de vrouw alleen. En als de christelijke naastenliefde ons verplicht den vreemdeling goed te doen, hoe kan de vrouw dan denken dat zij niet verplicht is, haar man voor het goede te winnen en hem beter te maken?’ [On the contrary, if anyone can be found who has an influence on the man, it is the woman. And if Christian charity obliges us to do good to the stranger, how can the wife think that she is not obliged to win her husband to good and make him better?]. 1065. Breward 1970, p. 416. 1066. Breward 1970, p. 416. Later (p. 421) he adds that only partners can marry who are of opposite sexes and are related by blood at the proper legal distance from each other. 1067. Breward 1970, p. 419. 1068. Breward 1970, pp. 416-418. 1069. Breward 1970, pp. 419-420. 1070. For Aristotle, see Breward 1970, pp. 428 and 436: ‘If it be said again that the heathen philosopher holdeth servitude to be natural, whereyby some are by birth bond and others free, I answer that servitude proceedeth not of nature, but hath his original from the laws of nations and is a consequence of the fall. For all men by nature are equally and indifferently free, none more or less than others’. 1071. Breward 1970, pp. 419-420, 428 (God created woman from the side of man). Perkins refers successively to Gen. 2.21; Matt. 19:26; Eph. 5.31; Gen. 1.26; 2.18; Deut.20.7; Matt.1.18; Gen.1.28, 9.1 and Tim.5.14; Mal.2.15; 1 Cor.7, 2.9; Prov.31.11-13 (Proverbs, The Good Woman). On p. 420: ‘... after the fall of mankind it might be a sovereign means to avoid fornication and consequently to subdue and slake the burning lusts of the flesh (1 Cor.7.2, 9). And for this cause some schoolmen do err who could hold that the secret coming together of man and wife cannot be without sin, unless it be for the procreation of children. Lombard, the master of the Sentences saith the contrary, namely that marriage before the fall was only a duty, but now since the fall is also a remedy’. 1072. Breward 1970, p. 436. 256 1073. Breward 1970, pp. 436-437. On the same pages he speaks of the ‘goodman and the goodwife of the house’. 1074. Breward 1970, pp. 436-438. Perkins, by the way, speaks on p. 437 (like Cats) of the ‘Sabbath day’. 1075. Breward 1970, p. 432: ‘The master is a member in the family which hath power and bearteh rule over the servant’. 1076. Breward 1970, pp. 430-431: ‘Parents are they who have power and authority over children’. 1077. Perkins refers here 1) to Gen. 20.16; 1 Sam. 30.5-8 and to 2) Eph. 5.28; Exod. 21.10; Ruth 3.9. 1078. Breward 1970, pp. 427-428. 1079. Breward 1970, pp. 428-429. 1080. Breward 1970, p. 439. 1081. Breward 1970, p. 439. 1082. Breward 1970, p. 413. 1083. Watkins 1969, p. 185. 1084. Provided with gas, water and light, since the nineteenth century it has become common for increasing numbers of people that the inside of the house has been neutralized in this respect according to Meischke 1982. In the centrally heated and fully lit house there are hardly any more ‘cold’ and ‘warm’, ‘dark’ and ‘light’ places. See also Olsen 1993, as well as Chapter 2 on ‘Simon Stevin and the Liberated House’. 1085. Pontfoort 1984, p. 213. 1086. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 43, Watkins 1969, p. 217; idem Pontfoort 1984, pp. 256-257 who points out that a woman married to a good man is blessed. 1087. Pontfoort 1984, p. 35: points out that there are men who have drifted from the right path because they have fallen in love with ‘wicked and licentious women," with the result that these men, too, lead lustful and fornicated lives. 1088. Watkins 1969, p. 220. Pontfoort 1984, p. 36: ‘Want, om de waarheid te zeggen, wat is een slechte, bandeloze en verdorven vrouw anders dan een monster van de natuur, iets dat misvormd is en buiten zijn eigen natuurlijke hoedanigheid is getreden, die moet zijn eenvoudig, rustig en deugdzaam?’ [For, to tell the truth, what is a wicked, rampant and depraved woman but a monster of nature, something deformed and out of its own natural capacity, which must be simple, quiet and virtuous?]. 1089. Pontfoort 1984, pp. 38-39: ‘Tegennatuurlijk is het, omdat er geen enkel dier of vogel is, die niet van nature van zijn partner, dat is het vrouwtjesdier houdt. Het is dus een zeer onnatuurlijke zaak als een met rede begaafde man het tegenovergestelde doet’ [Counternatural it is, because there is no animal or bird, which does not naturally love its mate, that is the female animal. So it is a very unnatural thing when a man gifted with reason does the opposite]. Further, p. 133: ‘Met vrouwen die zo zijn [hele slechte, onredelijke vrouwen], bemoei ik me niet, want dat zijn tegennatuurlijke wezens’ [With women who are like that [very bad, unreasonable women], I do not interfere, for they are counter-natural creatures]. 257 1090. Beckers 1942, pp. 186, 190. Van Oostrom 1996, p. 284 points out that this theme (the man who must learn to control himself) is already discussed in earlier centuries. Jacob van Maerlant tries in many areas to temper his listeners – most of whom are men – and to urge them to exercise self-control: in their thirst for money and blood, in their generosity and their horniness, in the arena of battle, in the courtroom and in bed. Time and again we see Maerlant warning against overheating’. 1091. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 111, 145, 149. 1092. Pontfoort 1984, pp. 49-50. 1093. Pontfoort 1984, p. 212. 1094. From the literature examining medieval situations, this isolation of the woman – such as the separate place, the chamber, in the middle of the (noble) house, is only confirmed. Duby , Barthélemy & de La Ronchière 1992. 1095. Alberti emphasizes that the married man does it by working outside with sweat, blood and tears so that he can offer her a house. He does not do it by remaining at home. 1096. Becker 1942, p. 186. 1097. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 106, 42, Bouwman 1996, pp. 85, 83, 55, 81, 60, 58, 59, 69, 70, 80. 1098. Coulton & Power 1928, pp. 41, 183, 184, 188; Watkins 1969, pp. 216, 211; Becker 1942, p. 190. 1099. Several authors (also Bouwman 1996, pp. 57-58, 60 uses it as an argument) point out that the human being – male and female – is endowed by Nature with other gifts. Man walks upright, with his head raised, and is thus created for the contemplation of the universe created by God. Watkins 1969, p. 133. 1100. ADW II, pp. 1-2. 1101. The wife is advised to treat her husband as the maid treats a child (Cats), or as men treat their animals (Le Ménagier de Paris). Knowing what her husband desires, the woman does well to give it to him without him losing face. 1102. Coulton & Power 1928, p. 176. 1103. A comprehensive comparative study could explore this further. 1104. Thus J.J. Schipper, editor of ADW I, p. ** verso. Not all song goddesses are identifiable by their attributes. Moormann 1987, pp. 174-177. Clio (History: with book), Euterpe (Music: with flute), Thalia (farce and pastoral: banderole, small violin); Melpomene (Tragedy: horn, mask), Terpsichore (dance and song: violin), Erato (lyric and love poetry: violin, lyre), Urania (astronomy: globe and compass), Calliope (epic poetry: books) and Polyhymnia (heroic hymns: lute). The four remaining figures can be distinguished into Apollo, Hermes, Athena and Pan. 1105. Angel 1642, p. 8. 1106. Hall 1974, p. 256. 1107. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 118: ‘De rechterhand ... om laeg uitgesteeken, was een teyken van ootmoedige beede’ [The right hand ... extended downward, was a sign of humble request]; Spies 1979; Graf 1993, pp. 44-69. 1108. Sneller 1996. 1109. Witstein 1969, 1980A, B. 258 1110. As goal of his Trou-ringh (ADW II, B3 verso) he describes: ‘onse Lands-genooten met vermakelijckheyt wat goets te doen lesen, en daar door bequamer te maken tot het huyselick en borgerlick leven, en een gelucksaligh sterven’ [to make our countrymen read some good things with enjoyment, and therewith to make them more fit for domestic and burgher life, and a blessed death]. 1111. Witstein 1980A, p. 44. 1112. Witstein 1980A, p. 44. 1113. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. B3: ‘... op dat alsoo yder een iet wat hier soude vinden dat op sijne bysondere gelegentheyt soude mogen slaan. Waar in ick meyne soo veel gedaan te hebben, dat’er by-naast niemant sal gevonden worden, of hy sal aan het een of het andere trouw-geval sijn eygen konnen toetsen en ter preuve stellen’ [... in order that everyone may find something here that may apply to his particular situation. Whereby I think I have done so much, that hardly anyone will be found, or he will be able to test and judge himself by one or the other case of [marital] allegiance]. 1114. ‘Ver-maken’ [entertaining, amusing] in the additional sense of a garment being changed [remake, transformed], see Van Hoogstraten 1678, Chapter 4. 1115. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 479-480: ‘Datse geheel buygsaam en reckelijck zynde tot veelderley saaken, oock verscheyden van aart wesende, met groot vernoegen van hoorders en lesers, gevoegelijck konnen worden verdraeyt, en tot andere gelegentheden van saaken merckelijcken konnen worden uytgebreyt’ [That they are altogether pliable and accommodating to all kinds of cases, which are also of different natures, with great satisfaction to hearers and teachers, can be appropriately transformed, and to other situations of cases frequently extended]. 1116. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 607: ‘Als ‘t diep verloopt/ verset men de bakens. Dit spreeckwoort (gelijck meest al de andere) kan op verscheyde gelegentheden toe werden gepast; het selve kan dienen als iemant ouder van jaren werdende sijn maniere van leven, sijn kleet, sijn spijse, sijn oeffeninge, en diergelijcke saken dient te veranderen’ [When the tide goes out/ one moves the beacons. This proverb (as in other cases) can be applied to various situations; it can serve when an older person needs to change his way of life, his clothing, his food, his occupations, and such things]. 1117. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. 2 and 2 verso: ‘Eyndelijck, gunstige Leser, bidden wy u, niet te willen misduyden, dat wy de selve beelden ende gelijckenissen beyde ende tot menschelijcke invallen, ende tot Goddelijcke bedenckingen ‘t geheele werck door, onverscheydelijck hebben gebruyckt, en dat oock somwijlen met strijdige veranderingen, ‘t welcke misschien yemant mochte oordeelen, heet ende kout uyt eenen mont geblasen te zijn...’ [Finally, benevolent Reader, we ask you not to reproach us for having used images and parables throughout the work, both for human events and for divine reflections, inseparably, and also sometimes with contradictory changes, which someone may judge to be as if cold and hot were blown out of one mouth]. 1118. ADW I, p. 237 (‘man, of jonck-gesel, of echte wijf, of vrye maeght’ [man, or young man, or true wife, or free virgin]); pp. 281-282, 305-308, 377-382, 403-406. 1119. Leeman & Braet 1987, p. 47; Miedema 1989A, pp. 96-108. The ordinary style (humile) is one of the choices available to an author within the rhetorical system; the other two are grave (elevated style) and medium (middle style), depending on the nature of the subject described. 259 1120. Erasmus regularly uses the dialogue form in his Colloquies, as in his dialogue between the abbot and the learned lady of 1524 (Rummel 1996, pp. 174-179). In fact, a similar procedure is used by Cats in his discussion of the various marriage cases of a young unmarried lad (Philogame) and the old, wise man (Sophroniscus), ADW II, pp. 1-270. 1121. ADW I, pp. 256, 356, 360, 361, 364. 1122. ADW I, pp. 333, 356, 331. 1123. ADW I, p. 237. 1124. ADW I, p. 237. 1125. ADW I, p. 237. 1126. ADW I, pp. 391-392. 1127. ADW I, pp. 418, 424, 416-417, 413. 1128. ADW I, p. 413. 1129. ADW I, pp. 407, 408, 417, 411. 1130. ADW I, p. 407. 1131. ADW I, pp. 410, 409, 411, 412. 1132. ADW I, p. 411: ‘Het schricken is vergeefs, het sugten is verloren, Gij zijt’er toe gemaeckt, gy sijt’er toe geboren, Het moet al in het graf, al in het duyster gaen, Wat hier beneden wort beschenen van de Maen’ [The fright is in vain, the desire is lost, You were made for it, you were born for it, Everything must go into the grave, everything must go into darkness, Whatever here below is illuminated by the Moon]. 1133. In ADW II, p. B2verso, Cats points out the use of exempla to clarify matters in his Voorreden. On p. 282 (ADW I), he states emphatically to use plain language as much as possible and in any case to avoid obscure sentences – except where honor calls for some circumspect use of words. 1134. Other authors confirm this, such as Alberti (Watkins 1969, pp. 205-207) or Erasmus (Luijten 1996B II, p. 66). 1135. ADW I, p. 282. 1136. ADW I, p. 282. 1137. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. B3. 1138. ADW I, pp. 403-406. 1139. Spies 1985. 1140. ADW I, p. ***2 verso. 1141. ADW I, pp. 285, 309, 383, 407. 1142. ADW I, pp. 285, 309, 383-384, 407-408, 416. 1143. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 615. 1144. ADW I, p. 367. 1145. ADW I, p. 367. 1146. ADW I, p. 367, Cats, Tachtig-jarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 565-566. 260 1147. Cats, Trou-ringh, in: ADW II, p. 2, ‘De wegh tot wetenschap is lang door regels, kort door exempels, seyt een wijs Schryver’ [The way to knowledge is long by rules, short by examples, said a wise Writer]. 1148. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 479-480. 1149. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 479. 1150. Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, pp. 479-480. They are like the core, they are like the pearls, like gilded apples in the silver bowl, like ‘dochters van de langduerige ondervindinge’ [daughters of the long experience], like ‘gansch bevalligh zyn om hare kortheyts wille’ [very graceful because of its brevity], and precisely because of their ‘aangenaeme duysterheyt’ [pleasant obscurity] one swallows the raw truth. That is why they have a more powerful effect than entire books. 1151. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. B2verso- B3. 1152. ADW I, p. 367. Moorman & Uitterhoeve 1987, p. 152. 1153. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, pp. 565-566. 1154. ADW I, p. 367. 1155. Cats, Voor-reden, in: ADW II, p. B2verso-B3. 1156. For example: ADW I: Abigail (pp. 318, 319, 330); Sarah and Agar (pp. 318, 336), Job and Abraham (p. 321); Laban, Joseph and Potiphar (p. 362; see also ADW II); Samson and Delilah (p. 370); Adam and Eve (pp. 315, 360, 366, 369); ADW II: Jacob, Lea and Rachel (pp. 15-19). 1157. For example, ADW I: Amphion (p. 313); Andromache (p. 313); Helen (p. 314); Helen and Paris (p. 357), Nymphs (p. 321); Sabine Virgins (p. 330); Cupid and Venus (p. 335); Medusa (p. 358); Odysseus (p. 365). 1158. ADW I, p. 319 (on Juguldis and a ‘Gotschen over-heer’ [Gothic sovereign]; on Clovis and Clothilde). For example, in ADW I, p. 393, he refers to Wonderbare geschiedenisse voor waerachtig verhaelt by Simon Goulart, in het tweede deel van sijn wonderbare en gedenckweerdige Historien [Miraculous histories as being reliably told by Simon Goulart, in the second volume of his miraculous and memorable Historien], which records a story from 1563 about the ‘wolfsjongen’ [wolf boy]. 1159. Extended in Cats, Tachtigjarige bedenckingen, in: ADW II, pp. 565-566. 1160. ADW I, pp. 328-330 (provided with an engraving). 1161. Concrete examples which he claims to have borrowed from books (e.g. ADW I, p. 314 (‘Ick heb‘ een soete vont op dit geval gelesen’ [I have read a nice finding on this case]), pp. 327, 328) or which he claims to know from his own experience (e.g. ADW I, p. 338 (‘Ick weet een seker huys’ [I know a certain house], p. 349 (‘Ick ken een vreemde wijfs’ [I know a strange woman]), p. 350 (‘laetst, daer ick was gescheept met soete reys-gesellen’ [last, when I was embarked with pleasant traveling companions]), pp. 352, 357. 1162. ADW I, p. 263. 1163. ADW I, pp. 297-298. 1164. Luijten 1996B II, p. 28 writes that Cats sees ‘the image as a preamble’. 1165. Luijten 1996B II, p. 30 explains this as follows: ‘With those actions or manners of doing things, they point out peculiarities in the character of man. They appeal to knowledge of everyday reality and to common sense and thus indicate the best way to approach things in an amorous, moral and religious sense’. 261 1166. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. *** - ***2verso, p. 480. 1167. This is an adaptation of Aristotle’s tripartite division of the types of happiness in life: ‘the life based on enjoyment, the life of prestige, or the life devoted to study’. See Pannier & Verhaege 1999, pp. 20-21. 1168. The three layers that Cats adds to his ‘moralistic’ emblem are usually referred to as ‘sexuality’, ‘society’ and ‘religion’, whereby the first serves as a seductive entrance, ending in profound contemplation. The first layer is then seen as pure entertainment and the second and third as teaching, which does not do justice to the value that Cats (with the classics) places on the first layer on procreation. See Porteman 1984A, p. 4, who considers these three layers as Cats’ own addition and as a ‘typical Dutch phenomenon’, because as a reaction to the ‘light-footed love-emblems’: ‘Under the guise of an attractive genre, beloved by the youth, Cats, in a second and third epigram, offers new applications to the fashionable and popular love-emblem that relate to civic duty and religion. This technique and this connection of ‘jock’ [wit] and seriousness made a great impression on contemporaries’. 1169. ‘Heuglijk’, then, in two meanings: both joyous and memorable and unforgettable. 1170. ADW I, pp. ***2, ***2 verso. 1171. As a caption to a picture he suggests e.g. (Cats, Spiegel, in: ADW I, p. 590): ‘De Leser beelde sich in een visscher, uyt een grooten vis een kleynen vis treckende en sijn kint toonende’ [The Reader imagines a fisherman who pulls a small fish out of a large fish and shows it to his child] or ‘Het beeldt kan zijn een arm huys-man die staet en klaegt in een stal, daer niet en is als een doode koeye: in ‘t verschiet een rijck man in een treffelick paleys, klagende ontrent sijn eenig kint dat gestorven is’ [The image may be a poor houseman standing and lamenting in a stable, where there is nothing but a dead cow: in the distance, a rich man in an exquisite palace, lamenting over his only child who died], or (p. 591): ‘De Leser heeft sich hier in te beelden iemant die een anders pap wil komen blasen, maer van den selven wert verstoten, met byvoeginge van ‘t gene het bygevoegde vers seyt...’ [The Reader must here imagine someone who wants to come and blow someone else's porridge, but who chases him away, adding what the accompanying verse says...]. 1172. Cats, Sinne- en Minnebeelden, in: ADW I, p. ***2 verso: ‘Leest dan wie gy zijt aendachtelijck, verstaet gesondelijck, ooirdeelt heusselijck, en vaert wel, J. Cats’ [Then read carefully who you are, understand correctly, and judge sincerely and farewell, J. Cats]. Luijten 1996B II, p. 29: ‘he starts from ‘stomme beelden’ [mute images]’, ‘geringe saecken’ [small things] and ‘belachelijcke dinghen (...) in dewelcke men de goede zeden als met de vinger wysen, ende met de handen tasten kan’ [entertaining things (...) in which one can point out the good morals with the finger, and feel them with the hands]. 1173. Lodewick 1964. 1174. General propositions, such as ADW I: everyone wears clothes belonging to their own sex (p. 310), all people are different (pp. 313, 317), the human being is often becomes irritated by minor things (p. 315), the human being who wants earthly things relies on the wrong things (p. 315), experience shows that sweet words chase away anger (p. 325), etc. 1175. The fragment in question begins in the middle of a description of how Helena fared (ADW I, p. 408). 1176. ADW I: ‘Wat baet een vlytig man als ‘t wyf een suermuyl is’ [What advantage does a diligent man have when his wife is a sourpuss] (p. 350: repeated 12 times), ‘Schou al het dienstbaer volck’ [Shun all the inferior people] (p. 362: repeated 14 times). 262 1177. ADW I, p. 315: ‘De liefde baert gedult. en haet het leppig spreken, ‘De liefde duyckt en swijgt, de liefde deckt gebreken, ‘De liefde weert geschil en ander ongeval, ‘De liefde, jonge vrou, de liefde recht’et al.’ [‘Love breeds patience. and hate snarls, ‘Love hides and keeps silent, Love covers up flaws, ‘Love resists disputes and other accidents, ‘Love, young woman, love makes everything right]. See further ADW I, pp. 410, 411, 310, 324, 342, 350, 368-369. 1178. ADW I, pp. 316, 325 (‘in hete posen, met geduld koelen’ [In hot moments, cool with patience]). 1179. For some examples, see ADW I, pp. 323, 341-342. 1180. See, e.g., ADW I, pp. 341-342. 1181. ADW I, p. 411. 1182. ADW II, p. B3 verso: ‘... de Nederlandsche tale te verçieren, de Hollandsche gedichten sacht-vloeyende en sonder stoot- en stopwoorden te maken; ten eynde de selve eenpariglijk en sonder stuyten gelesen mochten worden’ [... to embellish the Dutch language, to make the Dutch poems soft and fluent and without clashing and stop words; so that it may be read in unison and without ceasing]. 1183. ADW I, p. 284: ‘Vrouwen-voordicht, toegeëygent alle ware Huys-moeders’ [Poem for Women, dedicated to all True House-mothers]. One page earlier (pp. 283-284), Cats gives a similar enumeration of extremes for the house-father: ‘Korte afbeeldinge eenes rechten Huys-vaders’ [Short depiction of a good House-father]. 1184. It is often translated as ‘middenpositie’ [position in the middle], see Luijten 1996B II, p. 86. Krol 1997, p. 15 describes this modern view image aptly, an image in which even Cats (given the 19th century reprints of his work) fits: ‘De tijd van zelfgenoegzaamheid, middelmatigheid en huisbakkenheid, die Nederland op z’n smalst laat zien. Dat zijn termen waarin men in de twintigste eeuw over de vroege negentiende eeuw spreekt’ [The time of complacency, mediocrity, and homespunness, showing Holland at its narrowest. These are terms in which people in the twentieth century speak of the early nineteenth century]. She further points out that at the beginning of the nineteenth century the term ‘middelmatigheid’ [mediocre] is used in a frame of thought in which people think in terms of balance, and golden mean: ‘het rustig rationalisme van de waarlijk gelukkige mens zou tot uitdrukking komen in diens gematigdheid’ [the quiet rationalism of the truly happy man would be expressed in his moderation]. 1185. De Rijk 1981 points out that Aristotle is not concerned with the ‘golden mean’, in the sense of the measurable middle between two extremes. On the contrary it concerns the proportional, the harmonic middle that depends on the situation at hand. 1186. ADW I, p. 316. 1187. ADW I, p. 316. 1188. Schama 1988, p. 16. 1189. He ‘maant’ [exhorts] (ADW I, p. 352), ‘wenst’ [desires] (p. 365), ‘bidt’ [begs] (p. 371), ‘zegt wat dienstig is’ [says what is needed] (p. 311), ‘wat beproeft’ [tested] (p. 321), ‘geleerd’ [learned] (p. 370), ‘getracht’ [tried] (p. 358), and ‘geweten’ [known] (p. 356). 1190. ADW I, p. 483. ADW II, p. B2 verso. 263 1191. ADW, I. p. 549. 1192. Lévi-Strauss 1978B, p. 173. 1193. De Mare 1990B, p. 89. 1194. Schama 1988, p. 16. 1195. Rooijakkers 1996, p. 163. 1196. Van Vloten 1862 (of which his Minnenbeelden en sinnebeelden are still recently reprinted) and, for example, the 1876 popular edition by D. Bolle, Rotterdam. 1197. Scholz 1988, p. 73: ‘If the topos of the book of nature allowed for a reading of the world as an “universall and publik Manuscript, that lies expans’d unto the eyes of all” [Sir Thomas Browne, Religio Medici, The Major Works (1977), p. 78f], in which the norms of right living are revealed, albeit at times rather enigmatically, such a self-assured reading experience does not seem possible any longer in the world exemplified by Van Vloten’s versions. As a result of the enormous hermeneutic gap which separates us, and which already separated Van Vloten’s world from that of Renaissance epistème, it is hard to even imagine what it must have meant and how it must have felt to be able to read the world like a book, i.e. to be able to have an experience of the world which is akin to a reading experience’. 1198. Gelderblom 1999, p. 56: ‘As a movement, French-classicism dominated a good part of the literary life of the Republic for about a hundred years; in organized form it began in the autumn of 1669, when in Amsterdam the society Nil volentibus arduum (Nothing is difficult for those who want it) was founded’. 1199. Van Vloten 1862, p. 6. Van Vloten also refers herein to the ‘door Fransche school verwende – tijdgenooten’ [by the French school spoiled – contemporaries]. 1200. Van Effen, quoted by Van Vloten 1862, p. 6: ‘Zekerlijk zijn er gebreken in ‘s mans poëzy; ‘t is zeker dat zijn stijl niet genoeg is in een gedrongen en dat dikwijls de kracht van den zin met de uitgestrektheid der woorden niet evenmatig is. Men verwijt hem ook met recht het gebruik van dikwijls herhaalde stopwoorden, gelijk als ick en weet niet wat en des al niet te min’ [Certainly there are flaws in the man's poetry; it is certain that his style is not sufficiently compressed and that often the force of the sentence is not evenly balanced with the length of the words. He is also rightly accused of using stop words that are often repeated, such as ick en weet niet wat en des al te min]. 1201. Van Vloten 1862, p. 6. 1202. Gelderblom 1999, p. 57. 1203. Krol 1997, pp. 28-29: ‘As one of the features of the folk character, for example, Ockers in his Ontwerp tot een algemeene characterkunde [Draft for a general characterology] (1788-1797) mentions the “lovers of a quiet, sedate way of life, and of regulated morals” and “The ordinary style of the Dutchman is the quiet, regulated, domestic life”’. Frijhoff 1992, incidentally, interprets this, says Krol, as ‘huiselijk van aard’ [domestic in nature]. 1204. Krol 1997, pp. 337-338. 1205. Van Vloten here quotes Potgieter in De Gids of 1844, who, by the way, was no lover of Cats. 1206. Van Vloten 1862, p. 5. 264 

Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Chapter 1.2. Introduction: A Cultural-Historical Study of the Arts I would like to explain my approach using three related methods in contemporary historiography. Firstly, cultural history, secondly, the history of science and thirdly, the archaeology of knowledge. In fact, my preference is for a method analogous to these three. However, analogy does not mean that these approaches can easily be applied to the research of various types of artefacts. In this section I will discuss some similarities and differences and thus focus on my own methodology – for the time being referred to as ‘historical formalism’. In chapter 5, I will return to this issue in a general sense by examining how historical formalism (or a cultural-historical study of the arts) relates to the culturalhistorical art science that Aby Warburg (Chapter 5.2.1.) envisioned at the beginning of the 20th century. In answering that question, the current cultural history – in which Warburg appears to be a valued author – will be discussed again.1 As a result of the shifts that historiography has gone through in recent decades, historical anthropology has now acquired a permanent place. 2 It stems from the confrontation of two disciplines: cultural history and cultural anthropology. 3 Among other things, historical anthropology distinguishes itself from other historical approaches by its broad and dynamic concept of culture, in line with cultural anthropology. This discipline is particularly interested in everyday culture. According to Willem Frijhoff, this shift stemmed ‘from dissatisfaction with the large-scale socioeconomic history steeped in abstract theory formation and unrealistic language, which with its quantitative methods had dominated historiography and driven out the individual human being’. With the return of the ‘attention to human action in smaller, overseeable communities’, the concept of culture was broadened to ‘everything’ that occurred in a culture. 4 This interdisciplinary vision initiated research into new phenomena that were previously considered inert: the body, the climate, popular culture, personal life, gender, old age, mentality, nature, magic, sexuality, rituals, gestures, witchcraft, but also views on illness, health and death, clean and dirty. Cursing and jeering, gossip and backbiting, prostitutes and neighbors, blasphemy and carnival, cultural intermediaries and witches – these kinds of subjects are popular among historical anthropologists. According to Peter Burke, the broad concept of culture ‘serves to indicate almost everything that can be learned in a certain society: how to eat, drink, walk, speak, remain silent and you name it. Basically, cultural history now includes the history of the rules or presuppositions that underlie everyday life. What used to be taken for granted, as evident, normal or a matter of common 1 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 sense, is now recognized as something that differs from one society to another and changes with the passage of time, something that is a socio-cultural “construction” and therefore requires a socio-cultural or historical explanation or interpretation’. This anthropological concept of culture contrasts with the normative (aesthetic) concept of culture in case of artifacts.5 As a result, this new form of cultural history is not so much about a discipline with a well-defined research object, but about the scientific attitude one adopts towards any object, the questions one poses to it and the desire to find out its place in its historical context. 6 Three elements are important in this attitude. Historical anthropology is primarily an analytical activity. ‘Historical facts’ are not facts in a positivist sense, but constructions with their own kind of history. 7 As a result, the question of source criticism – traditionally a specialism of the historian – acquires extra significance in this form of cultural history. One should not be so naive as to expect any source to simply tell the truth. One cannot assume in advance that sources from the same time can therefore be compared simply and automatically. The same applies to sources produced by the same hand or the same mind. One should always ask oneself to what extent one compares apples and oranges. Classifying documents and events is therefore a first necessary step in historical analysis. Or in Foucault’s terms: ‘Well then, in the attitude of history towards the document, a mutation has taken place, a mutation which does not date from today but which has certainly not yet been completed: its main task is not to understand and interpret the document, not to determine whether it speaks the truth or what expressive value it has, but to process it from within and to make certain adaptations: historiography organizes the document, classifies it, assigns it a place in a division, sorts the document, arranges it by levels, establishes sequences, distinguishes what is relevant and what is not, establishes elements, delineates units and describes relationships. For historiography, the document is no longer that inert matter in which and through which it tries to reconstruct what people have said or done, what has happened and of which only the trace remains; historiography tries to define units, collections, series and relations in the fabric of the documents themselves’.8 Secondly, one distances oneself from the idea that there is a homogeneous historical time in which all ‘facts’ develop analogously and continuously. By no means all layers of a culture change at the same pace and therefore eras cannot be understood as being completely and definitively separated from each other. The rigid periodizations of the past, in which historical compartments are thought of separately (the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, etc.), are replaced on the one hand by a neutral or global indication of time that relates to a certain cultural homogeneity or individuality (the long twelfth century, the long sixteenth century, the long nineteenth century, etc.). 9 On the other hand, one uses 2 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 time indications related to the modernity from which the current historian inevitably writes and in relation to which differences or similarities are investigated – such as pre-modern and early modern. In both cases there is no restoration of homogeneous time; on the contrary, one has an eye for the many histories that come together in a certain time frame. Since Braudel, historians think more in terms of the ‘stratification of time’.10 As we shall see, such an approach has far-reaching consequences for the history of the arts in which (according to current terms such as Renaissance, Mannerism and Baroque) compartmental thinking is still very much present. The third characteristic of a historical anthropological approach is that one always places the investigated phenomena in a local context and looks for connections with similar phenomena in other contexts or other cultures.11 That is why the historical anthropologist strongly prefers a qualitative rather than a quantitative approach, placing less emphasis on the general than on the particular. This implies that every source is examined in detail and dissected meticulously.12 The words used do matter, the anecdotes and metaphors, the images and the things, the gestures and the trivial habits – they all contribute to a pattern of signification that only becomes visible through the relief that they form together. 13 In the meantime, the historical-anthropological method has also been applied to early modern culture in the Netherlands. As examples I mention Gerard Rooijakkers’ dissertation on Brabant folk culture, Hester Dibbets’ comparative study of material culture, Willem de Blécourt’s work on sorcery and Dorothée Sturkenboom’s dissertation on emotion and passion in the eighteenth century. These studies show that in early modern culture there are various behavioral repertoires, collective codes and circuits through which groups communicate with each other in a codified way and identify with each other. Material objects or ways of doing things can be appropriated, but they can also be reinterpreted and given new meanings in a certain context. In the first place, these studies reveal the social dynamics between group cultures. They reveal the extent to which value patterns and systems of thought are based on collective conventions, recognizable terms and unconscious codes. Thus, in early modern European culture, the register of honor, shame and disgrace is constantly being activated. At the same time, it appears that existing registers are subject to constant symbolic processing and mental manipulation for the benefit of group identity. An essential insight is that individuals are part of different codified networks (habitats such as family, school, work, church, party, sex, age) and that one can manipulate these cultural forms to a certain extent and with a view to one’s own identity. Finally, it has been shown that the cultural transfer of behavior and the meaningful use of objects is not a one-way street. These cultural phenomena should be understood as forms of mutual appropriation 3 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 or mediation by individuals who, by virtue of their position, associate different circuits with each other. ‘It is essential,’ according to Rooijakkers, ‘to be able to determine the meaning and the scope of forms of behavior. The value of certain actions can vary, not only in time and space, but also in social terms of age or gender. Groups that, in certain situations, use an identical forms and language to exchange information, participate in the same cultural circuit. They are, as it were, in the same arena of significance. Everyday life consists of a multitude of such circuits’.14 For these reasons, the historical anthropologist attaches great importance to the specific shaping of cultural phenomena. Rooijakkers undoubtedly speaks on behalf of his colleagues when he says: ‘We can only trace the behavior of people in the past and present and use this to (indirectly) imagine the world of experience behind it. After all, it only becomes recognizable when it is given shape. That is why we advocate terms in which people’s actions are explicitly expressed.15 The sources of historical anthropologists are therefore pre-eminently material in nature. They study household objects, clothing, tools and interpret texts or images on their material aspects. They constantly search in the most remote and unforeseen products of a historical culture for the physical traces of culturally formed behavior and ‘mental maps’. In this respect, the interwovenness with research into material culture – now a recognized discipline – is clear.16 In addition to the widely used estate inventories, resolutions, popular printed matter, judicial archives, literature, church council acts, paintings, visitation reports, photographs, business records and prayer cards reveal their knowledge. This involves knowledge of historical gestures and ritualized body language, about social taste and appreciation of utensils, about daily routine and the specific meanings for individuals or groups. All these elements are part of a series of their own, although sometimes they’re also connected. By mapping out the many registers of concrete, historically bound gestures and thoughts, a previously unarticulated collection of historical phenomena can be unlocked. Thus a ‘Renaissance elbow’ appears to exist, a ‘hand of friendship’, and certain depicted postures of body or head can be named as part of a wider range of historical gestures and mentalities.17 Nowadays, the use of works of art as a historical source has a long tradition, of which of course Autumn of the Middle Ages (1919) by Johan Huizinga is the best known. For him, the tonality that colors human destiny in the Middle Ages was inspired by the mood he discerned in contemporary paintings, poetry and prose. But Annales historians, such as Fernand Braudel and Philippe Ariès, also used the visual arts early on in their research of history. For more recent historians influenced by French historiography (such as Burke, Vovelle, Muchembled, Frijhoff, Rooijakkers and Schama) the image has gained in impact and acquired 4 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 an even more prominent place as a bearer of meaning and as a cultural intermediary. Nevertheless, a fundamental question must be asked here. There may be an analogy between modern cultural history on the one hand and the historical research of the visual arts on the other, but this means that there are also differences. I want to explain this in the next paragraph. 5 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 1.2.1. A History of the Arts In this research, therefore, we are dealing with a methodological analogy: just as historical anthropology investigates everyday culture and historical objects in their context, I would also like to treat artifacts and cultural products (images, works of art, architectural drawings) in their context. I want to insert the achievements of cultural history – its discreet handling of time, historical ‘facts’, serial embedding, layered reality, etc. – into a history of the arts. But this is not so much about the way in which artifacts circulate in social life and create new meanings there. This is already sufficiently done in the historical anthropological research just mentioned. So, what is the difference between the cultural history of the arts that I advocate and the current cultural-historical treatment of visual material? In order to explain this, I will take a closer look at the way in which cultural historians of the new style take care of the research object of art historians of the old style. Current cultural history uses a social-scientific frame and way of thinking. The research focuses primarily on communication processes between groups, on the appropriation of meaning, on cultural transfer and forms of identification, in short, on ‘the exchange of meanings on the basis of a common system of signs’.18 Central in this approach is how people communicate with each other. One uses a model of sender and receiver, in which the message is transmitted by a medium, while the meaning of that message is a matter for the social partners, Frijhoff underlines. ‘Partly as a result of the contribution of symbolic anthropology, however, the eyes of cultural historians have now been opened to the fact that identical cultural forms do not have to have identical meanings in two distinct social groups. The receiver may attach a completely different meaning to a cultural expression than the sender means.’19 The material culture, the objects and the images therefore matter in this approach in so far as they offer a view of the underlying social relations and their culture.20 One considers objects or images as material carriers of certain (symbolic or everyday) meanings that are brought into circulation and appropriated. 21 ‘The message must not only be sent, but also appropriated by the recipient, and it is precisely this appropriating process that creates space for a changing meaning.’22 Cultural historians mainly investigate the process of appropriation through which social meanings change. They are not ‘concerned with the media itself, nor with the context alone, but with the interaction between the medium and the context, with the way in which communication is made active in a specific context and can be loaded with messages, metaphors and symbolism, so that it creates meaning, makes sense, sets standards, incites certain behavior and brings about new forms of behavior’.23 The visual artifact is not the main focus of this research. After all, it is about the ‘communicative content’ and the ‘visual message’ that the information carrier or 97 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 visual carrier conveys.24 In fact, in the historical-anthropological approach, the image becomes a container under which all sorts of non-discursive ‘representations’ fall: from painted artwork to prayer cards. But ritual gestures, physical performances and (immaterial) mental images are also considered part of the ‘materialized visual culture’. ‘When we speak of visual media, to which visual culture belongs, we do not only mean depictions, but also ephemeral ‘representations’ such as gestures and rituals, flower carpets, fireworks and video clips, which provide non-verbal information about the status of something or someone’.25 What all these ‘images’ have in common is not so much their formal, artistic, but their communicative value.26 ‘This approach is concerned with the grammar and “reading culture” of the image, in which the interactions between the intentions and meanings of the creators, the distributors and the consuming public receive attention, regardless of whether it is a Rembrandt canvas or a painted piece of furniture’.27 Interpretability is therefore an important criterion with which images in a historical anthropological study must comply. ‘Objects can take on different meanings depending on the social, religious, cultural, economic or political context. The aspect of producing meaning, the reception, is particularly interesting from a folkloric perspective. What matters is not so much the medium as the role it plays or has played in people’s behavior. Not the depiction, but the process of imagination, for example, provides us with keys to circuits of meaning. That is why the classic separation between “material” and “spiritual culture” is in fact a false contradiction: object and idea cannot be considered separately. In that respect, the tendency to ‘materialize’ media into, for example, books and prints as rigorous defined fields of research, however understandable this materialization of research objects may be, is in historical-anthropological terms an intolerable narrowing of the domain’.28 So, the images historical-anthropologists investigate are often figurative, realistic or symbolic – a cultural-historical analysis of an abstract painting will not be easy to find.29 Because social codes and conventions are seen as determining the meaning (content) of the image (the form), they must be identifiable in an artifact. It is not surprising, therefore, that for the decipherment of diverse visual media, the help of art historical auxiliary sciences such as iconology is called upon, especially when it comes to authors interested in the cultural contrast between bourgeois elite and people.30 At the same time, the emphasis on communicative interaction explains why the (art historical) distinction between ‘high’ and ‘low’ art has become irrelevant for historical anthropologists. The aesthetic factor is at most a signal for the specific status of a person or group. In 1996, Rooijakkers explicitly advocated, from a cultural-historical point of view, ‘to link the universe of the image more closely to the current debate on communication and interaction’.31 Other cultural historians are also arguing for a new way of dealing with art historical objects. Burke, for 98 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 example, emphasizes that he does not start ‘from the usual perspective – that of the painter and his individual creation – but from the point of view of the person portrayed, as social types rather than as individuals. (...) Portraits should be seen as a form of communication, a language without words, a theatre of status, a system of signs that represent views and values, and serve as a means of “selfrepresentation”’.32 There are several problems with such an approach. I will name three. To begin with, one may question the cultural-historical use of social-scientific vocabulary. About the use of concepts from the social sciences in historiography, Ad van der Woude once remarked that it is always important to think carefully about the extent to which these concepts (and the theories to which they refer) are applicable to the past. Modern conjunctural theories or modern psychological models, for example, are not necessarily useful for earlier historical cultures. 33 ‘This is where the problem of time and situation, of anachronism in concepts and theories, arises.’34 And a little further on he says: ‘The social-scientific conceptual apparatus and the social-scientific theories built on it are not ready-made instruments for the historian. When using these tools, one will always have to ask whether they are usable and to what extent. The historian will have to adjust the concepts and theories again, recalibrate them. It is not only the nature of our data that limits our possibilities. The historical development process itself also forces a continuous evaluation in order to make a “zeitgemäße” treatment possible’.35 A similar problem arises when it comes to the concepts and models with which contemporary cultural historians approach visual material, works of art or a visual culture from the past. Is the current, mostly a-historical communication science adequate to study visual material in early modern culture? Don not concepts like ‘medium’, ‘visual carrier’, ‘visual culture’, ‘mass media’, ‘communication’, ‘symbol’ – however nuanced explained – overshoot their target, precisely because in the early modern era there was ‘still poor communication’?36 Doesn’t the recent cultural-historical addition to communication science – with the question ‘to what extent is the (formal) reception of a message equal to its (substantive) reception’ – ignore the question of what kind of ‘media’ are we actually dealing with in the early modern era? 37 So, secondly, one has to wonder whether the usual art historical concepts (‘art’, ‘artistry’, ‘aesthetics’, ‘beauty’, ‘color’, ‘style’, ‘artist’, ‘intention’, etc.) are normal and of all times so that we can write a history on the basis of these concepts. The cultural historians do not answer this question by taking a different approach. A historical study of works of art should, however, begin with the question of whether the usual terms used to describe high Art are as inert, a-historical, invariant and discreet as is often thought. Are the terms we nowadays use to talk about works of 99 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 art really useful when it comes to works of art from other periods? Analogous to the idea that our term ‘disbelief’ proves useless to describe the sixteenth century? 38 The question is therefore whether common art historical concepts should not be examined in the same way as the rediscovered everyday themes of which I have just spoken. Would it not be in keeping with the new cultural-historical imperative to first establish the ‘network of unconsciously shared values and norms’ and to examine which ‘thought schemes’ or ‘cognitive worlds’ are at issue when writing about art, color or beauty in the early modern age?39 Shouldn’t a historical anthropological analysis ask itself what the relationship is between supposedly eternal concepts such as ‘art’, ‘beauty’ and concepts such as ‘nature’ and ‘science’ whose historicity is now recognized?40 Shouldn’t the concepts used in early modern times to speak and write about ‘works of art’ be decisive in assessing the status of these works at that time? In my view, a remark by the science historian Dear concerning the early modern status of the experiment applies here: ‘Although my evidence and arguments will chiefly deal with how people talked about what they did, I take it that what they did can only be characterized and understood through their forms of speech about it’.41 The terms one chooses are always part of a conceptual network in which the concepts interact. As Dear says, ‘their meanings change as their relationships are reconfigured.’ Miedema (1989) rightly points out that ‘the content of the concept of art has changed so radically over time that it can only be studied as a historical phenomenon’.42 A position he shares with earlier art historians such as Warburg, Van de Waal, Emmens and more recently with Alpers, Halbertsma, Zijlmans, Van Eck and others. Thirdly, ‘images’ and ‘visual arts’, precisely because of their supposed accessibility and recognizability, form an extra intellectual challenge. Semiotics, in particular, has shown the pitfalls of a naive way of dealing with images. ‘It is naive to say that the signs defined as iconic signs have the same properties as the object; or are equivalent to their object; or are analogous to their object; or are motivated by their object. In other words, the sign is not ‘natural’ but subject to the code.’43 The same obstacle is denounced by the art historian Henry van de Waal, albeit in completely different terms. In his oration Tradition and Inspiration (1946) he wrote: ‘While no one can hope to fully enjoy the beauty of a Latin poem if he does not have the knowledge of Latin grammar and the Latin language, anyone who sees a Romanesque image can be deluded into believing that he can appreciate this art even without further knowledge. Nevertheless, the rule that applies to the visual arts is at least equally valid that a correct understanding can only be supported by familiarity with the habits and customs that the artist tacitly and often unconsciously follows, by familiarity with the art of speech and the use of the language spoken by him, in short by an insight into the tradition he follows’.44 100 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 For the three reasons mentioned above, with regard to the arts, I would like to make a difference between, on the one hand, the promising methodology of current cultural history (the aim to develop a historiography of the ‘arts’) and, on the other hand, the, in my view, all too recent conception of visual objects as communicative media (which one definitely considers applicable to the early modern arts). The rigorous abolition of the contemporary distinction between different types of visual material (high Art and kitsch) means throwing the child out with the bathwater. 45 A cultural history of the arts involves, among other things, the recognition of the provenance of this conceptual distinction and the demarcation of the specific domains in which early modern artefacts take shape. The world of painting, the world of architectural thought and the world of moralist literature are three specialized fields within Dutch seventeenth-century culture, and it is these fields that I want subject to historical research. Now that’s easier said than done. Separate ‘art’ histories are in fact plagued by a problem that also occurs in the history of science. Over the last thirty years an overhaul has been carried out there with far-reaching consequences. Today’s science historians are very fearful of an anachronistic reading of the past – Shapin (1988) speaks of ‘verbal anachronism’.46 They investigate the historicity of notions such as ‘science’ and artisanal knowledge’, but also of ‘religion’, ‘theology’, ‘magic’, ‘occult sciences’, ‘handicraft skills’ and ‘arts’ in the early modern era.47 The historicization of concepts does not so much lead to the search for fixed entities, but to the mapping of discursive domains in, for example, early modern Europe and the meanings generated by the interrelationships between concepts. 48 ‘Many of the issues historians discuss under the rubric of “science and religion”, as Margareth Osler stressed a few years ago, ‘are actually issues about natural philosophy and theology.’49 She considers it more fruitful to see the relationship between natural philosophy and theology in early modern times as ‘products of the same cultural and intellectual heritage’.50 Determining the conceptual context is therefore not only important in historical anthropology, but also in the history of science. ‘The emphasis on context is crucial, for it enables the historian to take note of the particular features of an historicized discourse, rather than imposing modern conceptions about the coherence of worldviews.’51 The current classifications of sciences – such as biology, physics, chemistry and philosophy – prove to be of little use for earlier periods of Western European history. ‘Historians want to write histories of biology in the eighteenth century; but they do not realize that biology did not exist then, and that this pattern of knowledge that has been familiar to us for a hundred and fifty years is not valid for a previous period.’52 This statement, originating from Foucault, is in line with the views of others. Science historians 101 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 from Schmitt (1973) to Pumpfrey (1991), Cohen (1994), Osler (1998) and Dear (2001) each defend an approach that does not boil down to the history of modern science but follows the fate of an early modern formation through time. ‘This approach enables the historian to acknowledge the existence and significance of changing disciplinary boundaries and changing intellectual preoccupations in a variety of historical contexts.’53 This turn in the history of science took shape in the early 1970s. For example, in a 1973 article Schmitt underlines the importance of aristotelian thinking for the appearance of the ‘scientific revolution’ as he says: ‘It is time for us to begin to move to new historiographical perspectives and leave behind once and for all such a limited view of the subject.’ 54 From that moment on, the history of science grows into a mature field of research that reflects on its own developments. 55 Almost thirty years later, Grafton and Siraisi (1999) write in retrospect: ‘Two generations of scholarship have left us considerably better informed about the sources, scope, and varieties of renaissance thinking about nature (...). Even more important, perspectives have radically shifted, boundaries have dissolved, new themes and new methodologies have emerged. Conceptual and chronological frontiers once apparently secure – “medieval science” and “the Scientific Revolution” for example – have changed out of recognition or, in the view of some scholars, disappeared altogether. The seminal studies of Michel Foucault and Frances Yates, even if not fully persuasive in every aspect, have made it impossible for historians ever again to ignore the role of various forms of magical thinking and practice in the Renaissance understanding of the natural world.’ 56 Remarkably, this historical approach to the sciences has hardly been integrated into what is now called ‘New History’.57 This probably has to do with the fact that innovation in history mainly resulted from a social-scientific questioning, while innovation in the history of science went back primarily to questions of epistemology: people asked themselves questions about early modern knowledge systems. The most recent scientific-historical publications show that a socialscientific questioning (with attention to social institutions, elite, gender and class) is also on the rise there, in which epistemological standpoints are interpreted as a ‘social constructions’ and the epistemological questioning thus shifts to the background.58 I will return to this difference in temporality between (historical) disciplines, the resulting (in)compatability and the danger of interdisciplinary research that does not take this into account in the epilogue. 59 This also sheds another light on the well-known dilemma in the history of science that Vanpaemel recently described as the problem of ‘internalism’ versus ‘externalism’.60 No unknown dilemma in the history of art, architecture and literature.61 On the one hand, the science historian can start from an internal development, by seeing scientific insights as the product of theories, experiments or 102 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 techniques. On the other hand, it can be assumed that science is a product of the historical-social embedding or the cultural context (‘in which economic, social and religious influences are usually considered’).62 Until recently, this dilemma was resolved in favor of the first approach, namely as a ‘history of ideas’. In order to do science history, one had to know the natural sciences from the inside out. But in the meantime, this has shifted. Historians are now being appointed, for example, to study the history of ‘natural science’, where the starting point is that ‘knowledge’ has a material existence and thus its own history. Vanpaemel points out that the history of science can only take its place in ‘the world of historical disciplines’ if an interdisciplinary approach is developed that transcends the aforementioned dilemma. This results in three types of questions, each of which is relevant to my own research. First, the question of the historical forms of science – the definitions of scholarship, knowledge and intellectual environments, the formation of disciplines, the type of truth that is produced, the boundaries with respect to technology and art. The advantage of answering this question is that it will ‘make the history of science less dependent on anachronistic or contemporary conceptions of the role and meaning of science’, according to Vanpaemel. The second point concerns ‘man’s relationship to nature’, i.e. ‘the construction of a concept of nature’ and the place assigned to natural science. Finally, the third aspect is the formal presentation of knowledge. Vanpaemel speaks of ‘the rhetorical and communicative conventions within which science developed’ so that scientific thinking is guided in disciplinary channels.63 On the basis of these research questions one could write a new history of knowledge, which boils down to a ‘cultural anthropology of thought’. In his preface to a collection of scientific-historical studies in 1991, the (previously mentioned) historian Roy Porter justified this umbrella term as follows. ‘It may not be the perfect term, but it has the virtue of underlining more clearly than some such phrase as “history of ideas” or “history of science”, the ways in which terms such as nature, order, matter, spirit, have meanings that transcend the technical, and link up with wider models of social order and boundaries. It better indicates the sense of interconnectedness between different fields and levels of discourse which the contributors convey. (...) Learning the history of mentalities, as pursued by the Annaliste school, they find it more rewarding to operate structurally, tracing the patternings of veins along synchronous strata, laying bare the common assumptions, language, and rationalities informing such diverse enterprises as astrology, magic, witchcraft, and philosophies of nature, and emphasizing how bodies of ideas can simultaneously be speaking to religious, technical, political and even gender issues.’64 103 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Vanpaemel refers three up to times to formal characteristics that shape the object of research in the history of science: the historical articulation of a field of knowledge, the formulation of the concept of nature or concept of the world and the construction or structure of scientific ‘credibility’. I will ask the same kind of formal questions regarding the artifacts and the specialized areas in which they arise. How and by whom are painting, architecture and poetry formulated in the seventeenth century and to what field of knowledge do they belong? In what terms do people think, what connections are made and what purpose is relevant if they want to establish the significance of ‘paintings’, ‘architecture’ and ‘morality’? In short, which ‘cultural and intellectual complexes’, as Schmitt calls them, with their ‘own internal logic and structure’ can we distinguish?65 What are the fates of elements included in the seventeenth century thought? Where did they come from? ‘To seek influences, continuities, and developments is certainly one of the tasks of the historian who deals with intellectual matters, but he must not allow this to obscure other equally important objectives. First of all, before tying seventeenth century ideas too closely to fourteenth century ones, we must investigate the fortuna of the latter during the intervening centuries more carefully than has thus far been done. We must look to these centuries for changes and developments decade by decade and not leave them as a single, unexplored expanse during which time presumably nothing happened other than the transmission of fourteenth century doctrines in undiluted and unpolluted form. Secondly, we must realize that the cultural and intellectual complex of the fourteenth century (and of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, as well) had an internal logic and structure of its own and cannot be considered only in relation to the seventeenth century.’66 A second question was: which concept of nature or the world is in force and which concept of the human being is actually used? No superfluous questions when we recall the standard ideas about Dutch genre painting, architecture of the house and moralistic literature. And finally, a third question was: what means are used to bring knowledge into circulation as reliable knowledge and to make it transferable? After all, the structure of an argument using logical, rhetorical or poetic means is historically changeable and plays its own role in the shaping of the artefact. These questions also apply to the material from the seventeenth century I have been examining. As far as Stevin’s conception on architecture as a scientific domain is concerned, my study directly touches on the above-described question that Vanpaemel presents in the history of science. But also works of art – a painting, a print, a rhetorical poem – can be explored within this theoretical framework. It is noteworthy that many interesting contributions on early modern visual culture come from historians such as James Elkins, Pamela Smith and others who have delved into the history of 104 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 science.67 At the same time, this approach bypasses the question, which is unproductive but is repeated in all kinds of tones, whether, and if so to what extent, texts and images reflect social reality. For these authors (and also for me), texts and images themselves contribute to the formation of historical reality. The advantage of this detour via the history of science is that it allows the cultural history of the arts to be sharpened. It is precisely the particular materiality of cultural products and the historical variation in forms that introduces a new problem definition. The paint, the color, the brushstroke, the light/dark composition in a painting, but also the discursive contexts with their statements about the arts, the preference within these contexts for certain words and concepts, the twists and turns of phrase, the rhythm and the concatenation of all those elements into texts of all kinds – all this is not natural, logical or selfevident. The material forms have their own history, and these must be brought to light in a cultural-historical investigation. Thus, I will conceive works of art not primarily as part of the cultural communication between social groups and individuals, but as part of the then conceptual universe. This ‘savage mind’ – an analytical concept introduced by Claude Lévi-Strauss to investigate the inner coherence of concrete, everyday thinking68 – determines the context in which works of art are created, treated, judged and selected. 69 In my vision these questions need to be answered before one can start a sociological, communicative study of early modern arts. Cultural-historical research should take precedence over a social-scientific question, so that it becomes clear what can and cannot be studied regarding early modern ‘art’. This distinction underscores the fact that although different disciplines can examine the same object (a painting, a poem, a print, a film), the theoretical object is different for each discipline. It is wrong to think that the scientific knowledge of a work of art would consist of the sum of all (social, political, psychological, aesthetic, historical, economic) facts about that object. The theoretical analysis of ‘a work of art’ must always determine which pertinences are at stake and thus to which level of analysis one should limit oneself. ‘After all, for reasons of coherence, every theory must limit its field of research and only relates to the level at which the problem is posed. If one does not accept this, one may not understand the complexity of the subjects dealt with. One then starts from the ‘obvious’, the familiar and everyday accepted, and that is perhaps the most blind form of reductionism’.70 Determining the pertinences and isolating research layers is therefore an analytical necessity. The structure of the three central chapters on Stevin, Cats and De Hooch are structured to a large extent by studying different layers. In other words, a history of the arts also implies a study of the arts as formal systems of signification. I will deal with this second nuance with respect to current cultural history in the next section. 105 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 1.2.2. The Arts as Formal Systems of Signification There are various ways to find out what the unconscious, but nevertheless effective rules of thought are in a certain cultural period. Some of them show a methodological kinship, although their objects are often quite different. The purpose of this paragraph is merely to point out a few landmarks and anchor points that have been decisive for the formulation of my own working method. The aim is not to give a full introduction of these different approaches. I will refer to these approaches where necessary and make explicit where I use their concepts or insights. A first author I would like to mention explicitly is Claude Lévi-Strauss. His exploration of myth has inspired authors such as Mary Douglas, Wendy Doniger and Reini Raatgever to work out his approach in his own way. The comparative mythology developed by them conceives myths not so much as special expressions of a collective unconscious or archetypical mental contents. Nor do they interpret myths as a reflection of social relations or social stratification in the cultures that produce them. Finally, they will not interpret myths as primitive forms of thought that are qualitatively distinct from our modern scientific thinking. 71 Lévi-Strauss assumes that ‘the kind of logic in mythical thought is as rigorous as that of modern science, and that the difference lies, not in the quality of the intellectual process, but in the nature of the things to which it is applied’.72 When certain mythical tableaux appear strange to us, it is not so much because of the advancement of our intellectual capacities, but because our frame of mind differs from other frames of mind. LéviStrauss states that ‘the same logical processes operate in myth as in science, and that man has always been thinking equally well; the improvement lies, not in an alleged progress of man’s mind, but in the discovery of new areas to which it may apply its unchanged and unchanging powers’.73 It was not the ability to think that changed, but the (cultural) conditions under which thinking was done and the rules that were applied. In this book I want to focus on these (cultural) rules of thought. However, the question is how to trace those kinds of rules. According to Lévi-Strauss, the significance of a mythology is not to be found in the separate elements from which the myths are composed, nor in the separate relationships between those elements, but in the way in which those relationships are combined with each other.74 ‘The true constituent units of a myth are not the isolated relations but bundles of such relations, and it is only as bundles that these relations can be put to use and combined so as to produce a meaning. Relations pertaining to the same bundle may appear diachronically at remote intervals, but when we have succeeded in grouping them together we have reorganized our myth according to a time referent of a new nature, corresponding to the prerequisite of the initial hypothesis, namely a two-dimensional time referent which is simultaneously diachronic and synchronic, and which accordingly integrates the characteristics of 106 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 langue on the one hand, and those of parole on the other. To put it in even more linguistic terms, it is as though a phoneme were always made up of all its variants.’75 In this approach one reads both the greater ensemble of which the myth is a part and the special formation that it actualizes. Lévi-Strauss compares this kind of lecture, which simultaneously observes the linearity of the narrative and the instantaneous harmony of the different narratives, with the complex orchestral score: ‘... an orchestra score, to be meaningful, must be read diachronically along one axis – that is, page after page, and from left to right – and synchronically along the other axis, all the notes written vertically making up one gross constituent unit, that is, one bundle of relations.’76 According to this view, a myth as a linguistic ensemble is based on the simultaneous operation of two axes that De Saussure once distinguished as a syntagmatic axis and the associative field. Because of its psychological connotations Jakobson later referred to this last term as a paradigmatic axis. 77 The syntagmatic axis refers to the mutual arrangement of linguistic elements in a linear entity. The relationship of elements here is determined by contiguity. The paradigmatic axis, on the other hand, is formed by a virtual (but culture-historically bound) collection of elements that show a certain kinship with each other and can therefore serve as each other’s substitute. The relationship of elements on this second axis is determined by similarity. Both operations are also referred to as metonymic process (combination in a fixed pattern) and metaphorical process (combination by selection/substitution). Both processes are independent of each other but at the same time both are active in generating ‘new’ myths.78 The question of whether a certain myth shows similarities or differences with others therefore always requires that attention be paid to the activity of both axes. Although such an approach was initially developed for the linguistic system, I hope to demonstrate that it can also be applied to image material. In a broader sense, the axes will also prove useful in the cultural-historical research of the arts. However, face to face with historical material, my goal here is not to develop a ‘pure’ theory. As Eric de Kuyper once remarked in another context, developing a theory cannot be the goal of analysis, although it must be applied with the same rigor.79 After the analysis ‘the theory can start again, but thanks to the analysis in a more nuanced or different perspective. So, the analysis is never an end but always a starting point’.80 Even less is my intention to subjugate the historical facts to a theoretical model or method. Such an approach indeed makes cultural history ‘a hunting ground for systems thinkers’.81 However, a number of theoretical principles must be applied in the analysis of image and text material. Principles demonstrated for example in Vladimir Propp's morphological analysis of the fairy tale, but also in 107 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 some narratological analyses by Roland Barthes, Umberto Eco, Eric de Kuyper, Emile Poppe and others. In this way, my analysis shows a certain affinity with the approach to visual art, film, fairy tales and literature that the Russian formalists advocated at the beginning of the twentieth century.82 This also applies to the later Prague School, as well as the Paris School, both of which built on the work of the Russian formalists. 83 Characteristic of this approach is that one did not depart from common views on art, such as the distinction between ‘form’ and ‘content’. Instead, they focused on the question of what the ‘literary’ nature of a historically text was. The literary text was treated as a formal ensemble, composed of textual components in a specific connection. This analysis of internal connections between different elements contrasts with modern ideology, which considers man as the source of all meaning. 84 ‘For the “formalists”, the question is not which methods should be used in studying literature but conceive literature itself as an object of study of principle significance. In fact, we do not follow or fight any methodology. We can and should only be guided by a few theoretical principles. And we did not come up with the idea of these principles by adhering to some perfect methodological or aesthetic system, but by exploring concrete literary material’.85 This implies that the cultural-historical significance of a literary text or work of art cannot be found in the author (his intention or mental state), nor in the social context, nor can one assume a ‘normative aesthetics’.86 The aim of a cultural-historical investigation of the arts would be to determine what order is at work and what it achieves. The same applies mutatis mutandis to a painting or an architectural treatise. Their significance derives from the formal arrangement, the contextual network, the complex embedding of details and their bundled relationships. Finally, my working method shows similarities with that of Foucault in his early works. In addition to synchronous analysis (‘archaeology’), his work also offers points of departure for diachronic analysis (‘genealogy’).87 In my view, the whole debate about the so-called a-historicity of Foucault and Lévi-Strauss stems from the simplistic idea that there is a rigid difference between ‘history’ and ‘structure’.88 The cliché is that anyone who deals with structures cannot, by definition, deal with history.89 In reality, both in the work of Lévi-Strauss and in the work of Foucault, structure and history maintain a more complex relationship.90 Foucault’s work on the archaeology of knowledge has, unfortunately, long been overshadowed by his later books on ‘sex’ and ‘discipline’. For example, Western emancipation movements rely on the three volumes History of Sexuality to claim a special status for certain subjects as victims. The panopticon described by Foucault also appears to have touched a sensitive string. In a variety of domains – ranging from architectural thinking, visual culture, semiotics, women’s studies to cultural studies – Bentham’s 108 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 prison is considered a suitable metaphor for the position of the subject in modern society.91 I myself have always been more interested in Foucault’s epistemological research into the transformation of discursive practices and historically different subjectivities, a theoretical perspective that was also clearly present in his later books on prison and sexuality.92 It is not the appropriate place here to go into Foucault’s analytical concepts in detail. Many of his concepts have an attentive function in historical handiwork, and that is where the analytical tools have to do their work. But there are a few points I’d like to make. Foucault distinguishes between the different levels at which scientific knowledge can be examined. The first level describes the scientific consciousness in which the development, progress and renewal of knowledge are closely followed. The second level explores the unconscious of science. An attempt is made to bring latent ideas and implicit visions – which were influential but plunged into scientific silence – to the fore. Finally, on the third level – which Foucault calls archaeological – it is about the materiality of thought, i.e. ‘a plane that escapes the consciousness of the scientist or scholar and yet forms part of the scientific discourse’.93 Although somewhat enigmatic in its wording, this third way opens up the possibility of examining the triviality of each discourse. It tries to answer questions like: Who is speaking? What are the objects one talks about? Which words are used, and which terms are derived from other discourses? And what is the purpose of speaking? Especially for the analysis of historical text material, this simple (but labor-intensive) approach can be of great benefit. The rules of thought can be traced if one takes the effort to see them at work. At this point Foucault’s attention for the materiality of thought touches on the history of concepts.94 At the same time, Foucault’s method is also different because his analysis does not primarily focus on describing the genealogy of certain concepts, but on the rules of the discursive network in which those concepts do their work and the culture-historical significations generated by a ‘discursive formation’. Usually a ‘discourse’ is understood as ‘a process of transforming a certain idea or meaning into a story or speech’.95 This definition suggests that prior to the discourse there would be ‘ideas’ and ‘meanings’ that travel through time as inert entities. Such a description also suggests that behind the discourse there would be an invisible, deeper and essential truth.96 Foucault’s archaeology of thought, however, is not an interpretative discipline that tries to reveal disguised ideas. 97 For Foucault, ‘discourse’ or ‘discursive formation’ are analytical concepts with which historical thought is explained in its rules.98 Although knowledge, truth or signification are always generated within a discourse or discursive formation, this does not mean that Foucault wants to limit himself to sciences or disciplines. The knowledge of a culture encompasses much more than what we understand by science today. ‘Knowledge is to be found not only in demonstrations, it can also be found in 109 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 fiction, reflection, narrative accounts, institutional regulations, and political decisions.’99 On the other hand, a scientific discipline is ‘not the sum of everything that can be said to be true about any subject’; on the contrary, an utterance is accepted as true when it takes place against a certain ‘theoretical horizon’, when an utterance falls ‘within the scope’, in short, when it ‘obeys the rules of the discursive “order”’.100 A discipline thus forms a random but regular collection of both ‘errors’ and ‘truths’, both conceived as positive parts of the generated knowledge. 101 As an example Foucault mentions the changing theoretical horizon of botany. ‘For example, from the end of the eighteenth century onwards, for a thesis to be called “botanical”, it would have to be about the visible structure of the plant, the system of its strong or vague resemblance to other plants, or the mechanical propulsion of the plant juices (and from then on it could no longer, as was still the case in the sixteenth century, be about its symbolic values or the set of useful properties attributed to it in antiquity).102 This theoretical horizon also determined that Mendel’s work in the nineteenth century could not be ‘true’: ‘Mendel was telling the truth, but he “didn’t fit in” with the biological discourse of his time. In biology, it took a whole change of scale and the unfolding of a totally new panorama of objects to bring Mendel into that frame, and to make it clear that his propositions are (at least to a large extent) correct. Mendel was a monstrosity, a real monstrosity. And that’s why science couldn’t talk about it’.103 An important difference in Lévi-Strauss’ and Foucault’s approach is that the latter distinguishes four degrees of formalization of knowledge. Although in the present research I do not want to determine exactly to which formation certain discourses about painting, about building, about well-living and about poetics belong, the degree of formalization as well as the interrelationship of these discourses in the early modern period do play an important role. This is important because thinking about the arts and thinking within a scientific discipline is formalized and will differ from ordinary, everyday thought.104 In Western culture, the arts and sciences have undergone their own developments with their own claims to truth and power. As a result, their place in early modern culture differs from the place that knowledge and the arts occupy in the cultures that anthropologists usually study. Thus, inspired by the method of Lévi-Strauss with regard to mythology, the method of the Russian formalists with regard to literature, and the method of Foucault with regard to thought, I want to trace the rules of thought according to the ways in which the house took shape in the Dutch seventeenth century. I will do so by using a ‘descriptive analysis’ in which theoretical awareness is linked to an acknowledgement of material stubbornness.105 Through a descriptive analysis of the 110 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 particular materiality and internal arrangement of artefacts, new significations can be detected. A descriptive analysis not only takes precedence over a historical description of the material (usually describing ‘without sound theoretical and methodological principles’), but also over a theoretical explanation (often ‘without sound knowledge of the historical material’). The historical description often boils down to a collection of all sorts of disparate facts, while the theoretical explanation sees every historical phenomenon as an illustration of a system. The descriptive analysis wants to combine both: ‘The theory enriches the possibilities of the descriptive analysis and offers a toolbox for it. Conversely, in the description a test of the theory takes place. With each (...) analysis, new questions are called up that need to be solved’.106 Or in the words of Lévi-Strauss: ‘Read, reread, think, until in time the contours that count will emerge’.107 Such an approach results not so much in the display of an underlying idea but in the demonstration of morphology.108 Morphology conceived here as an investigation of ‘the constituent elements, both in their underlying relationship and in relation to the whole’.109 This formal approach does not embody a branch of philosophy, the history of ideas or the philosophy of science, because these disciplines do not take sufficient account of the cultural-historical diversity of image and text material. Nor is it a ‘Geistesgeschichte’ as art historians envisioned at the beginning of the twentieth century, where everything in culture breathes the same ‘Zeitgeist’. It is neither a history of mentalities in the modern sense of the word, in which mentalities are understood ‘as the consciously deployed intellectual strategies in the ordering and explaining of natural and cultural phenomena’.110 Finally, it will be clear that my research into the significance of the arts does not result in a form of hermeneutics either. Such an approach usually departs ‘from a pre-existing or already constituted reality which would somehow be present and which, moreover, would already be meaningful and then, in the second instance, be signified or symbolized by signs and symbols’.111 Given this conception of reality, one then searches for an original or essential meaning behind those signs and symbols, trying to offer an exegesis of texts or to decipher and interpret a work of art, in which the scholar acts as translator or interpreter.112 In the cultural-historical approach to the arts that I propose, signs and symbols primarily refer to each other.113 ‘Their meaning derives from this reference to each other and through this reference they generate meanings. This signifying process takes place on the basis of a network of presence and absence that is put into practice by means of signs and symbols.’114 This also applies to ‘historical facts’. Distinguishing between different levels and establishing their hierarchy is just as important for understanding the ‘meaning’ of the ‘facts’ as following the course of the argument, the narrative or the discourse in which those facts are embedded. In this respect, a basic premise from narratology, as Roland Barthes once formulated it, 111 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 applies equally to the analysis of historical facts provided by a historical document. ‘To understand a narrative implies not only to follow the course of a history, it also means to recognize “floors” in it, to project the horizontal sequence of the narrative “thread” onto an implicit vertical axis: to read (listen to) a narrative is not only to pass from one word to another, it is also to pass from one level to another’.115 The ‘significance of the facts’ is the higher order of internal relations. 116 It goes without saying that everyone is free to look for what they want to see in works of art, to be touched by them or to give them an aesthetic value. This is often a personal stimulus to take a closer look at certain works of art and leave aside others.117 As a collection of experiences, they primarily offer interesting research material for reception history. Not only because the projections change shape over time, but above all because aesthetic experiences are not purely subjective and have a collective component. In any case, one’s own taste cannot be the basis for a scientific analysis of (thinking about) painting, building, poetics and well-living.118 The rules of thought manifest themselves on the level of the positive, but unconscious pattern formation that is spun between the details of text or image material.119 The inner pattern in an architectural treatise, in a treatise on painting, in a poem or in a painted tableau determines to a large extent the significations that are generated. But without constantly making those rules explicit. Assuming that historical analysis has only ‘forms’ at its disposal, I will refer to my working method as ‘historical formalism’. I want to analyze the significance of architectural drawings, poems and paintings by examining their formation and place in a particular historical context. With the historicity of form as a starting point, I will distance myself from formal-aesthetic approaches that focus entirely on the intrinsic development of artefacts without taking the cultural foundation into account. Such an approach was in vogue in the history of style, for example, and is still practiced by connoisseurs. It is also used in modern art and advocated by engineers. In such cases, knowledge of formal characteristics refers first and foremost to aesthetic, creative and personal values that are considered invariable and universal.120 My working method is not related to that interpretation of the formal. With ‘historical formalism’ I would like to distance myself from the tendency among art historians to evaluate all works of art (from the past, but also from cultures that do not know the concept of art itself) on the basis of the current, modern concept of art.121 By proposing an investigation into the concept of early modern art, I would like to challenge this self-evident attitude. By carrying out a synchronous analysis of the system of relations, it is then possible to analyze those 112 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 relations diachronically and to clarify the shift that the early modern concept of art has undergone. The path I am advocating is certainly not entirely new. That is why I would like to point out here that there are other authors who favor similar approaches within the various art disciplines. In recent decades, various architectural historians – I am thinking of Françoise Choay, Caroline van Eck, Herman Geertman, Hans Walter Kruft, Alexander Tzonis, Auke van der Woud – have conducted research on the basis of related questions. They have no fixed conceptions of what architecture or architectural theory would be and do not look for rationalistically designed buildings with their fixed place in history. According to them, an important obstacle in the research into architectural-historical thinking is that one starts from certain presuppositions ‘that prevent them to investigate the significance of the physical unity’ of historical forms of architectural thinking. 122 According to Geertman, ‘The tendency to approach the text with a certain need or expectation pattern, to read the data in isolation or in a very limited context and to understand them “on their face value”’.123 In short, in his view, the result of such a starting point is ‘a positivistic attitude and at the same time an idealistic interpretation’.124 Instead, the architectural thinking that has manifested itself in the history of Western culture must be examined in terms of its structures and thus also in terms of the specific historical shapes it has taken in a given context. Not so much because the ‘true’ meaning or ‘real’ purpose of buildings then becomes visible, but because architectural forms (drawings, designs, buildings) are generated in a field where architectural concepts (terms, views, arguments and ideas) also have an impact. History ‘had to reconstruct the system of visions and concepts in which a particular architectural thought had taken place and relate this to other systems of visions and concepts of the time’.125 In this way, architectural thinking encompasses both text material and non-discursive forms and the concrete assembly – of old and new elements – can be examined at a historical moment. For example, Tzonis investigated ‘design thinking’ and ‘design discourse’ on the question of how design decisions are motivated in a large number of historical texts in relation to how the text in question is structured. Based on a qualitative and quantitative analysis it was possible to determine the shifts in the design system. 126 And more recently, Van der Woud explored architectural thinking in the nineteenth century. For, he argues, ‘ideas, convictions and theories’ are ‘incredibly important (...) for acting, but also for designing a building, and for choosing an architect’.127 This type of consideration raises a new type of question. ‘How had the architectural values developed into what they were?’ Alexander Tzonis wonders. ‘Why was architectural thinking as structured as it was in modern theory and practice? Were the existing architectural ideas eternal or transient? If they were part 113 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 of a changing culture, was this change random, or was there a certain pattern in it? And finally, if there was a global pattern of development, what were its provenances and laws? Did this development start on its own, or did other forces determine its movement?’128 Analogous questions arise in the field of literary history. In the Dutch literary history E.K. Grootes, Marijke Spies, Herman Pleij and Frits van Oostrom paid a lot of attention to the historical context of literary works. For instance, Grootes points to the almost inevitable fact that all kinds of concepts are used in historiography that are ‘charged with modern value judgements and on which assumptions are based, of which we are sometimes hardly aware’.129 In order to prevent historical research from becoming contaminated with this modernity, the historicity of these concepts must be investigated.130 Consequence is that we cannot consider a concept such as youth – and this also applies to ‘woman’, ‘man’, ‘marriage’, ‘sex’ – as a ‘generic, human and constant category’ whose meaning would be directly accessible.131 Einfühlung and hermeneutics are unsuitable as methods in the case of historical research.132 Instead, a historical investigation of literary texts forces us to reflect on contemporary conceptualization. ‘This discrepancy between then and now means that sometimes we get an answer to our questions, while a tension remains between that answer and the questions. And that is an extremely fascinating phenomenon.’133 Grootes argues that the literary text should be understood as a formal set of historical conventions, codes and symbols.134 The use of rhetorical techniques in particular underlines – as Sonja Witstein demonstrated for Jacob Cats’ work – the distance of a literary text from reality and its attachment to its own conceptual context. In addition, more generic but historically specific value systems can be at work in a literary text. In Cats’ work, for example, there is a ‘vertical’ vision of the human being (divine / earthly) that makes him look at youth, woman and man, sex and marriage in a specific way. Finally, related paths are also emerging in the field of art history. Many years ago, Nicos Hadjinicolaou outlined in his notorious (and in the end unsuccessful) Marxist art history, three obstacles that art history still faces today. First of all, he mentions art history as the history of artists (which may include both their mental state and their social environment). Secondly, art history has been conceived as part of the history of civilizations (in which art products are considered as expressions of culture, society or the spirit of the times). And thirdly, the history of art is understood as the history of works of art (history of style). When I confine myself further to researching works of art between 1400-1700, I am thinking not only of publications by Svetlana Alpers, but also of several important theoretical publications by authors such as Jan Emmens, Michael Baxandall, Harry Berger jr., Ann Hollander, Elizabeth Honig, Kees Vollemans, Marlite Halberstma, Debora 114 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Meijers, Walter Melion, Paul van den Akker, Henry van de Waal, Rudy Fuchs and James Elkins. The question ‘Is Art History?’, as the title of one of Alpers’ articles goes, probably forms the core of her entire oeuvre. There are, after all, two issues at the stake. First, the question of the status of the image and especially of pictorial representation in Western European art. Secondly, the question of the type of historiography that can be used for the discipline of art history. Instead of understanding paintings as the expression of an actual philosophical or moral meaning that can be found somewhere beneath the visual surface, Alpers argues the following: ‘we are not dealing with moral views that are translated into art (...) but with something that perhaps art alone can do'’ Instead of interpreting paintings in universally normative terms of technical and artistic skill, Alpers introduces the concept of ‘modality’ and emphasizes the means of representation. Modalities shape fictional worlds on the basis of its own conditions, and these conditions cannot be traced back or derived from reality outside. The historiography that Alpers envisages deviates from the chronological sequence (in terms of tradition, influence and development) with its fixed, often normative periodization of canonized ‘works of art’. She considers concepts such as ‘conscious design’, ‘prevailing zeitgeist’ or ‘ideology criticism’ to be irrelevant to a historical approach. Instead, she advocates a synchronous, comparative and concrete approach, assuming that old and new forms always coexist, will always be rearranged and form new combinations. With the help of these analytical instruments Alpers is able to indicate the historical specificity of Dutch seventeenthcentury image and text material. One should not interpret text material (both art theory and other utterances about visual material) as objective, transparent and unambiguous. That’s why Alpers wanted to analyze texts as well as images. In this way she (and others with her) wanted to replace the historical indifference of art history with a method in which historical questions could be asked. These questions touch not only on art-historical objects such as paintings and emblems, but also on the discourse about them (words and terms in which the historical concept of art is formulated). This also offers space to think about all those visual-historical objects that normally end up outside the art-historical domain. This open intellectual attitude can now also be found among other art historians, as recently revealed by James Elkins’ ‘Art History and Images That Are Not Art’.135 By extension, Dutch visual culture can be explored in its diversity. This culture varies from optical devices (lenses and microscope) to very diverse visual material including maps, atlases, cityscapes, tapestries, table linen, painted wall tiles, but also illustrations in various types of books or the abundance of occasional prints. This 115 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 broad interest in historical-visual material was already present among art historians such as Warburg and Riegl. This type of research shows that changes in artifacts are not automatically analogous to changes in the socio-cultural field. Artifacts propagate, just like words and concepts. They transform or mutate on the basis of their own rules and conventions. Works of art (like concepts) are not neutral, transparent vehicles of external, social meanings. They are historical heterogeneous configurations that generate meanings that are inserted into the collective dynamics. Of course, one can say that certain cultural objects are appropriated by a social group (the central view of many historical anthropologists) but perhaps the opposite is also conceivable. Perhaps cultural products – as Claude Lévi-Strauss once suggested – can appropriate and use the human mind to move themselves, transformed or not, through time. A formal analysis of historical formation can make this double-sided process clear. Grootes saw opportunities at this point for the study of historical literature. ‘Conventional elements such as topoi and symbols do not remain in existence for nothing. They can point to a continuity of views that can shed light on historical connections and developments. When Cats describes young men in terms of Horace’s youth portrait from the Ars Poetica, it does not have to be considered a purely literary imitatio. Equally enlightening can be when we see traditional data being adapted to new situations, or when it turns out that at some point it can no longer be used. The historical dimension of the literary material could thus contribute to the understanding of the development of the ideas considered.’136 A similar approach is defended by David Summers for art history in his article ‘Conventions in the History of Art’: ‘Leonardo invented a style of painting that lasted for four hundred years by endlessly reconsidering the most conventional themes: an Adoration of the Magi, a St. Sebastian, Madonnas in various combinations with other figures. Here once again conventional themes provided a fixed base for the definition of problems and solutions which, to the degree that they succeeded and became elements of a new style, became conventions in their own right.’137 A key question in this context is how to comprehend the connection between the work of Stevin, Cats, De Hooch and Van Hoogstraten. As I indicated earlier, I’m not searching for cohesion on the social level. As far as I know, both the lives and works of these four authors barely touch. The most important aspect they have in common is that all four – in terms of time span and geography – are present in the long ‘Dutch seventeenth century’ and have contributed to what is known as the ‘Dutch Golden Age’. Nevertheless, I think there are two areas where there is coherence at stake. First of all, on the level of thought. It is not so much debates that were explicitly held between contemporaries, but the similar topics discussed in different 116 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 domains, the concepts and terms used, the clichés that were commonplace, the metaphors and the images that were clearly considered suitable. In short: the archaeological field in which the shared forms of knowledge are stored. Thus, it appears that the study of nature has formed the fundamental basis of early modern thinking. A second coherence arises in the shaping and articulating of the house. After all, one has to bear in mind that the terms with which we imagine the house today, such as ‘space’, ‘function’, ‘society’, ‘private sphere’ et cetera, were completely unknown in the culture of the time. Which words are used to think about the house in its elements, its workings and its significance? With which images is the house depicted, what is displayed in the house as a tableau? What are the relationships between the words and the images that are attached to the ‘house’ in seventeenthcentury culture? What significance do these coupled terms and tableaux generate, and in what directions do thoughts and imagination lead us? Only after having traced the words, the images and the connections between them in the seventeenth century can the question be posed as to where the attachment to the Dutch house actually lies and where the strength of the cultural mechanism underlying this concept can be found. The house is thus a rich case study that will be used to investigate how the rules of thought have manifested themselves in the disciplines involved. 117 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 1.2.3. Source Criticism Because my source material consists of products in the field of architecture, literature and painting, the value of these sources must first be determined. Willem Frijhoff remarks the following about sources: ‘They are traces in the narrow sense of the word: signs that may indicate a direction of investigation but which, in isolation, are not sufficient to provide an interpretation. Although we do hope that the traces will unconsciously betray themselves, no trace will speak except in relation to a concrete, meticulously researched contex Biden bouwt voorsprong verder uit | Covid-19 en de campagnet, an environment, in short, a field of signification. So, scanning that field is a necessary operation. That field only constitutes a source in the full, usual sense of the word, to which further analysi Biden bouwt voorsprong verder uit | Covid-19 en de campagnes can be applied. In other words, culturalhistorical questions oblige us not only to construct our object, but also our source. Such a source can be a corpus of similar traces, for example texts, images, artefacts or documented actions; but it can also be a coherent field of significance consisting of dissimilar traces, searching for those elements which, although of a divergent nature, possess the same symbolic charge’.138 Let me therefore indicate which motives played a role in the choice of source material. An important point, of course, is that the work of Stevin, Cats and De Hooch is explicitly involved in the house. It can even be said that each of the three authors has contributed greatly to the clichéd views that have emerged – certainly since the nineteenth century – with regard to the house and domesticity. In any case, this trio played an important role in the formation of Dutch identity in the seventeenth century. In short, Stevin represents modernity,139 Cats Calvinism140 and De Hooch the burgher culture of the Dutch seventeenth century in the national memory. It is precisely these established (‘ingeburgerde’) and self-evident connotations, their naturalization as a reminder of (the beginning of) Dutch culture that aroused my curiosity.141 The excessive stereotyping of their work and the caricatural selection of utterances by current researchers have triggered me to want to see the sources for myself. While reading and looking, I found a discrepancy between source material and standard ideas, which challenged me to look at Dutch culture with new eyes. An experience that I, it turns out, share with others who investigate cultural stereotypes. Willem de Blécourt, for example, who researched types of sorcery, once wrote: ‘Imaging of the past is closely linked to contemporary, modern views. However, the relationship with historical research is ambiguous: insofar as views on history support current ideas, they can hinder research, insofar as they arouse curiosity, they can promote exploration. A cultural historian or historical anthropologist who sets himself the task of making depictions of the past as comprehensible as possible to a contemporary audience will first have to work his way through the present layers of 118 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 stereotypes and connotations and unravel them. This is not only necessary because they can color the research and steer it in (...) irresponsible directions. It is also necessary because, when – as with sorcery – there are modern myths, the researcher will have to connect to these myths in order to make her or his results accessible in the first instance’.142 So, my primary sources are the works of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch relating to the house. However, as Frijhoff’s statement illustrates, the significance of these works can only be determined when one sees them in their own context. And for that, too, one must consult sources. In my research, the work of an author is situated along three axes. Firstly, by juxtaposing the chosen body of work with the author’s other work where relevant. Secondly, by placing the corpus in the history of its field. And thirdly, by comparing the corpus with contemporaries working in the same field. In comparative, layered analysis in which I explore the European field and in which I draw on the many studies that have already been carried out in the various disciplines.143 With Stevin, the choice of contextual sources was obvious. After all, his work is always associated with his position as an engineer or exact scientist. It is therefore difficult to ignore his writings in the fields of mechanics, optics, astronomy and mathematics. Stevin’s achievements in the field of natural science are related to the state of natural philosophical thinking at the time. But the fact that he is an innovator in one area does not necessarily mean that he is an innovator in others. Perhaps his reputation as a natural scientist, mathematician and engineer is less applicable when it comes to the architecture of the house or urban planning. Consultation of these other works can therefore be useful. Both to determine where Stevin’s innovation manifests itself, and to clarify certain seemingly pointless elements in his architectural thinking. In his architectural treatise, Stevin is also in conversation with representatives of architectural theory in history. Vitruvius and Leon Battista Alberti, as well as Sebastiano Serlio and Andrea Palladio are mentioned by name by him. They are among the coryphées of the tradition that flourished with Alberti and the Italian Renaissance. Enough reason to take up these treatises myself and compare them to Stevin’s thinking. Finally, I include a third type of contextual sources, namely some writings from Dutch architectural theory in the period 1570-1670. Besides Vredeman de Vries and Salomon de Bray, I looked at publications by Philips Vingboons and Willem Goeree. These works are necessary in order to determine Stevin’s place in the context of the thinking of the time. Was he an exception or just representative? A question that cannot be solved by only looking at the circulation or distribution of his work. Apart from a single, somewhat scornful remark by Goeree, an implicit 119 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 reference by Constantijn Huygens to Stevin’s term ‘gelijkzijdigheid’ (‘equivalence’) or the material worked by Isaac Beeckman and Stevin’s son, there are few concrete traces of Stevin’s architectural thinking itself. The question of the value of his architectural theory can therefore not be answered in such an external way. Instead, a comparative analysis – by looking at the issues posed in Dutch architectural theory, the words that are used, the clichés one adopts, the goals that were set, the heterogeneous combinations this all forms – provides more insight into the extent to which Stevin’s thinking is representative of architectural thinking in the early modern period. Ultimately, therefore, the significance of Stevin’s architectural thinking was determined on the basis of these three axes: in relation to his ‘engineering’ work, in relation to the older tradition of architectural practices and in relation to Dutch architectural thinking at the time. With Jacob Cats, I have proceeded in the same way. The focus on the Houwelick was obvious, not only because this ‘marriage bible’ was highly iconic, but also because it forms a rounded whole that is also very extensive. Nevertheless, I have also investigated other works by Cats. The elements of the ‘art of living’ (ars bene vivendi) discussed in the Houwelick appear in earlier as well in later works, and the image material – especially emblems – plays a prominent role in those works. In the positioning of Cats against history, I took a slightly different approach than I did with Stevin. In general, secondary literature emphasizes that Cats’ thinking fits completely within the broad Christian-humanist tradition. Cats himself acknowledges that in many footnotes. In particular, the relationship with Erasmus is clear on many points, such as marriage, the upbringing of the girl or the relationship between wife and husband. These relationships have been convincingly described in the secondary literature. For this reason, I only went into Erasmus’ work on an occasional basis. I found it more interesting to compare Cats’ work with other Christian-humanistic sources, such as the often-mentioned work of the English poet William Perkins. My choice for Perkins’ work was prompted by the question to what extent the correspondence between Cats and pietism is confirmed. With regard to the pietist work by Petrus Wittewrongel, who was a representative of the Nadere Reformatie in Holland, I was mainly guided by Groenendijk’s work, which is provided with numerous quotations.144 In view of the ‘Calvinistic’ accents in Cats’ work, one might ask what his relationship is to authors with a humanist or catholic background. In order to clarify this – and also to elaborate on the genealogy of the art of well-living (ars bene vivendi) – I turned to a few authors who are generally considered to be part of ‘the’ humanist tradition and (as far as I know) are not mentioned by Cats: Le Ménagier de Paris (an early French writing, from before the Reformation: 1390), the Italian Della Famiglia by Leon Battista Alberti (1430) and a Spanish work by Jesuit Fray Luis de León, La Perfecta Casada (1590).145 120 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Finally, a comparison with two writings by women, Christine de Pisan (ca. 1400) and Anna Maria van Schurman (1637), seemed desirable to me. For both of them, the house was not a central subject, but in their discourse on The City of Women and in the Treatise on the talent of women for science, respectively, they articulate interesting utterances about marriage, the house and women. Especially when one considers that these works defend the intellectual capacities of women. Finally, I would like to mention the work of Dirck Volckertsz Coornhert on the art of living well in which he devotes the chapter ‘Vande wysheydt’ (On wisdom) to the house and housekeeping.146 These three sources are discussed more sideways. I mainly asked myself here what similarities and differences stand out and what significance they have for Cats’ thinking as a whole. So again, the three axes with which Jacob Cats’ work is compared to similar writings in the European field. Given the many dozens of works that Cats himself mentions, this may seem like a drop in the ocean. But the advantage of such a (modest) comparative analysis is that the often-stereotypical reading of Cats’ Houwelick is somewhat shifted. In any case, certain writings from which he would have drawn directly and writings that were seen as counterpoints to his work put the stereotypical image of Cats to the test. In the attempt to determine the context of Pieter de Hooch and his work, various difficulties arise. After all, most of his work consists of so-called genre pieces or interiors. Although the ‘chamber scapes’ (‘kamergezichten’, as Houbraken later calls them) are central to my research, one must also take a look at his other scenes De Hooch painted pub scenes and barns at both the beginning and the end of his life. They deepen our understanding of the way in which he presents personages and architectural elements, his use of color and the brushstrokes he applies. Much more important, however, is that any regularity in De Hooch’s chamber scapes can only be detected if series are formed. Most paintings were known to me from the monograph of Peter Sutton (1980) and at the many exhibitions on Dutch genre painting there were always a few works by De Hooch on display. Although the use of photographic material in art-historical research has now become quite normal, for a proper analysis it remains necessary to see the paintings themselves.147 Coincidentally, in the autumn of 1998, Sutton organized a first retrospective of forty works in London, on the basis of which I was able to refine my views on color and painting technique. With the demarcation of the corpus of paintings only one problem has been solved. A next problem concerns the question of what can be regarded as ‘context’. In secondary literature it is often claimed that Dutch art theory was of little importance in the seventeenth century and that – as far as it existed – not many utterances were made about genre painting. This is because genre painting has a low 121 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 status according to classicist art theory. On the other hand, history painting and the nude have been highly valued in accordance with Italian art theory from the Renaissance onwards. Against this background, it is understandable that Sutton discovers numerous ‘new’ elements in De Hooch’s work. His work would have no precedent and would have nothing in common with Dutch or Italian art theory, nor would it be comparable to Italian Renaissance painting. Literature refers at most to a kinship with the Holy Families that Flemish painters such as Jan van Eyck (around 1400) or his followers staged at the end of the 15th century. That seemed to me to be sufficient reason to take a look at these disciplinarily excluded sources. That is why I have included various treatises on the art of painting from Italy and the Netherlands in my research. Not with the intention of being able to interpret domestic scenes symbolically after all. But I did want to map how, on a European level, painting has been reflected upon and how these insights have been formulated. The question can be asked, for instance, whether ‘istoria’ –the term used by Alberti in his Della Pittura – does indeed refer to the art-historical genre classification of paintings that is currently used (whereby not only ‘history painting’ is separated from ‘genre painting’ à la De Hooch, but also Italian painting is juxtaposed with a Dutch realism), or whether it is a term that provides insight into the migration, circulation, distribution and transformation of thinking about painting within Europe. A justified question, as evidenced by the art historical knowledge of the long-term mobility that existed between artistic centers in Italy and the Netherlands. In order to be able to answer these kinds of questions I consulted the text of Leon Battista Alberti (1435/6). On this side of the Alps were the works of Carel van Mander (1605) and Samuel van Hoogstraten (1678). Vasari’s writings on artists’ lives (1560), Vredeman de Vries’ work on perspective (published simultaneously with a publication by Stevin on the same subject), Philips Angels’ speech for the Leiden Lucas Guild (1642) and Willem Goeree’s writings on drawing and painting (1691) are also discussed. By posing thinking about painting in a broad sense as a context, some counterbalance can be given to the often-spontaneous handling of historical image material. In a historical image analysis, one has to get rid of all too obvious and naive views on the image. Ideas about perspective, the client, the public, about the interpretation of motifs or themes – they all contain assumptions that together make up a modern conception of the image, assumptions that obscure one’s view of a painting from the seventeenth century. Apart from the location of De Hooch’s works against the backdrop of art theory at the time, a placement along long lines of visual culture seemed just as necessary to me. This is not only a suggestive reference to the Flemish primitives from two and a half centuries earlier, but also a more or less obligatory reference to Jan Steen as a counterpart to De Hooch. For this reason, I thought it would be useful to collect 122 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 images of the ‘in-between period’. I have always wondered where the similarities and differences between De Hooch’s image programme and other arrangements of domestic life (including Jan Steen) lay. Would it be possible to provide a genealogy determining the visual provenance of De Hooch chamber scapes? Detecting these visual traces seems almost impossible. After all, the visual material in question forms a very diverse and extensive collection. Although Montias’ and Van der Woude’s estimate that approximately 9 million paintings were produced for the Dutch market in the period 1500-1800 is not supported by everyone, a smaller number of works of art already requires another access to this archive. Thus, in fact, the research object shifts. The questions no longer focus on the work of art as a unique product, but on the extensive, historically dated and differentiated corpus of image material from this period as a whole. By constructing image series and many tracks instead of following a single track, new connections can be uncovered. Although iconology has also set up such image series, these series are based on finding missing links on the symbolic level: the aim was here to trace a motif or theme in a painting back to an earlier emblem in which that same motif or theme had been provided with a (literary) explanation. In this sense, the ICONCLASS system – once initiated by Henry de Waal – constitutes an extensive database of finding places of motifs, themes and subjects and is intended as an aid to a first, iconographic, description.148 Aby Warburg also generated series of images, but he departed from a more theoretically founded question. His objective was not so much to find the actual, original meaning, as is the case in contemporary iconology. He considered his Mnemosyne Image Atlas to be an instrument for detecting the migration and mutation of images in Western European culture. With the aim of investigating how certain images, shapes, motifs and themes have been carried through time and others have not. Such a genealogical approach may be a fruitful starting point for the future management of the image archive in a more advanced way: not only because digital storage and processing are currently possible, but also because a cultural-historical access can give new impulses to the research of image material. In anticipation of this, I have arranged the visual material in my own collection of art books – i.e. the visual material selected by others, ranging from paintings, emblems to prints and drawings – according to my own classification. This ‘material speculation’ (shaking up the existing, fixed connections) resulted in a number of series that – with all reservations – inspired me to take a different approach. Although the ‘visual formation’ in chapter 4 ‘leaves a lot to be desired’ in many respects, I consider it in the first place as an experimental intermediate step. By now it will be clear that De Hooch’s work is also situated from three angles. First of all, I placed his genre pieces against the background of his work as a whole. Secondly, I situate it in the context of the ‘art theory’ of the time in which both those 123 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 from Italy and the Netherlands are relevant. Thirdly, I regard De Hooch’s work as a link or episode from a much longer European history, the contours of which can be indicated by means of ‘visual formations’. In seventeenth-century thought there is another and much older tradition at stake. Just as in the Renaissance, intellectuals in large numbers returned to the ancient way of thinking. For the scientific and cultural life of the Republic – as I try to make plausible below – especially the Aristotelian natural philosophy is of great significance. In any case, the importance of this seems to me to be greater than people have washed to see in recent decades. In many art and architectural-historical studies one finds a rather schematic division in which the thinking of the Middle Ages is strongly Aristotelic, that of the Renaissance is NeoPlatonist and that of the seventeenth century is more modern scientific (and anti-Aristotelic). Detailed research into the history of thought in this episode by authors such as Kristeller (1961 and 1972) and more recently Burke (1989) shows that a strict separation between medieval Aristotelism and Renaissance Neoplatonism is too simplistic.149 According to Kristeller: ‘We must resign ourselves to the fact that in most cases the Platonist elements of thought are combined with doctrines of a different origin and character, and that even the professed Platonists did not express the thought of Plato in its purity, as modern scholars understand it, but combined it with more or less similar notions that had accrued to it in its late antiquity, the Middle Ages, or more recent times.’150 The rearrangement of ideas about nature and culture in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries took place as a game of chess on several levels. Many pieces are known and can be traced back to Plato or Aristotle. But the search for pure ideas is, as Kristeller and Close also emphasize, an inaccurate way to understand the debates in the early modern period.151 The influx of Arabic adaptations of ancient thought from the eleventh century onwards and of Greek texts from Byzantium in the middle of the fifteenth century has had an impact on classical thought absorbed in a Christian context from the fourth century onwards. It is even less accurate to cut the debate on issues such as ‘architecture’, ‘marriage’ and ‘painting’out of this fabric of ancient and Christian thought. In his study The Renaissance Notion of Women (1980), Ian Maclean pointed out, for example, that utterances about ‘the woman’ in this period can only be valued given this embedding in blended thought.152 The fact that important debates about ‘women’ took place during the Renaissance is partly linked to the temporary existence of a ‘universe of discourse’ in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. This period of intensive conceptual circulation is linked, on the one hand, to the rise of the art of printing and, on the other hand, to the disappearance of Latin as a means of collective communication between scholars in favor of the predominantly 124 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 indigenous European languages. 153 The ‘intellectual infrastructure’ guarantees both the existence of disciplinary boundaries and general assumptions within them, as well as the exchange of authoritative texts and the comments they evoke. 154 In his own research into the debates that have taken place concerning the concept of ‘the woman’, Maclean shows how clichés migrate, which questions can be asked, which answers are possible, in short, how thought presents itself according to disciplinary lines. He distinguishes four time-bound compartments: theological writings, medical writings, ethical-political writings and legal writings. 155 Within these compartments, certain question-and-answer systems develop, which then travel back and forth through the then intellectual world as an authorized cliché, to be used elsewhere, in other debates, as an argument of ‘truth’. 125 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 1.2.4. Vocabulary and Text Analysis Given the nature of the source material, word use and reading form a separate problem. And in four ways. First of all, there is the language used by the sources themselves. Secondly, there is the everyday and unreflected use of words of our modern time. Thirdly, there are the concepts and analytical instruments used in specific disciplines. And finally, there is the problem of translation where the original text is converted into another one. I will try to follow as closely as possible the use of words in the original Dutch seventeenth-century sources (with between brackets the English translation that approximates the text as accurately as possible). But respecting the original text does not just mean adopting the terms used at the time. In fact, one has to take all concepts, terms, categories and images and the associated value pattern seriously. Instead of excluding ‘strange’ discursive phenomena, the historical anthropologist will investigate a culture as an assemblage of all elements that in combination may be peculiar to the modern reader.156 An example to illustrate what I have in mind. Simon Stevin often uses twists and turns that seem strange to us and in summaries they are often missing. In a description of the noxious wind coming in through the water closet (‘secreet’, ‘heymelick’), he says among other things: ‘This wind coming in through the water closet does so for two reasons’.157 Although he seems to give two ‘conditions’ that cause this defect (1, when several water closets end up on the same drainpipe or 2. when an air hole has been made in the drainpipe of a water closet), it appears from his further description that he is referring here to the properties of the wind. If you do not know the properties of the wind well enough, you will not be able to dispel the stench in the house, in fact you will rather exacerbate it. The natural philosophy that underlies his argument – everything in Nature has its own purpose – not only determines the purport of Stevin’s statement, but also explains why he formulates it (by modern standards) in such a cumbersome way. Recently Stevin’s ‘solution’ was summarized by Van den Heuvel as follows: ‘He proposes to dig a well very deep under the groundwater. The rainwater that seeps through constantly refreshes the groundwater, so that the shit that has been drained from the water closet via a straight pipe deep down subsequently disperses and thus expels the stench’.158 This interpretation, in which the emphasis is placed on the technical intervention, culminates in a vision that Stevin sees as a forerunner of our modern technicians. ‘Combating water pollution and odor nuisance is certainly not just a problem of our time but has had the attention of city magistrates in the Netherlands for centuries,’ concludes Van den Heuvel. 159 But in fact, Stevin uses quite different wording and therefore a different reasoning (which implies, perhaps, that Stevin had another purpose in mind). 75 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Ten eersten salmen den put seer diep onder het quelmvvater graven, het sant of d’eerde onder vvater uythalende sonder hoosen, met baggaerthaken of al boorende, gelijckmen de bornputten boort. d’Oirsaeck des voordeels van sulck putten is dusdanich: Het regévvater op d’eerde vallende, en daer deur sypende tot opt quelmvvater, ververscht dat geduerlick, commende alsoo ander quelmvvater in plaets vant voorgaende, vvelcke verversching noch opentlicker te mercken is, deur dien tot veel plaetsen in langduerich nat vveer sulck vvater seer hooch is, maer in drooge somers soo leege datmen tot ettelicke oirten, als in Zeelandt en elders, svvaricheyt heeft om met delven daer an te geraken. Dit verstaen sijnde soo is vorder te aenmercken, dat stront in ‘t vvater dun en vlietich cvvort, vvelck haer mettet vorschreven quelmvvater vermengende, daer me geduerlick onder d’eerde verspreyt en den stanck doet verdvvynen. Hier af dient noch een anerder prouve dat inde legers den stront opt schijtvelt met groote regen so verdwvvynt, datter daer na geen stof van dien gesien en vvort, noch stanck geroken.160 First of all, the well will be dug very deep beneath the seepage water, the sand or the earth will be pulled out under the water without pumping, with dredge hooks or by drilling, as is done at the wells. The cause of this advantage of such wells is as follows: The rainwater that falls on the earth, and seeps through to the seepage water, refreshes it permanently, so that due other seepage water replaces the previous one, which is even more noticeable, because in many places where it is wet for a long time, that water is very high, but in dry summers so low that in many places, such as in Zeeland but also elsewhere, one has difficulty with digging there. Now that this is clear, it should also be noted, that shit in the water becomes thin and liquid, mixes with the said seepage water, spreads itself continuously under the earth and makes the stench disappear. Here there is another proof, namely, that in the armies the shit on the shit-field with heavy rain disappears in such a way, that after that there is no more shit visible, nor smell. A well has to be dug deep under the groundwater, because rainwater falls on the earth, reaches the groundwater through the earth and refreshes it. Because shit in water becomes thin and volatile and because it mixes with the groundwater, it spreads in the earth and the stench disappears. From his description of the properties of natural substances, Stevin derives ‘the cause of the advantage’ of this type of well. The wells are not a means of odor control, they are findings based on knowledge of the natural potencies of the substances with which the architect works. In other words, the contemporary modern reader can only determine the conceptual weight of a loose statement if he is prepared to submit to the formal arrangement and the material quality of the historical text in question. Tracing the relational value pattern thus has primacy in the analysis, after which the relevance of the individual utterances becomes clear and thus the nature of the significations that are evoked. This example of architectural history teaches us that we must always be prepared for historical changes of certain terms. The same goes for works of art. In fact, without knowledge of the words and their coherence in historical texts, no art-historical analysis of paintings is possible. The paintings have always appeared amidst certain conceptions of art. Thirty-five years ago, Jan Emmens showed in 76 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 his Rembrandt and the rules of art the remarkable interpretations that result from using terms from another historical period. By judging Rembrandt’s paintings on the basis of a classicist conception of art that only became established in Holland after his death, the opinion could be expressed that he ‘did not fit in with his time’ and that he was even ‘un-Dutch’. The question of how the status of the artist is defined (in terms of ingenium or self-expression), whether the imitatio of a painting is called amusing (because of its ability to depict ugliness and beauty or because of its ability to evoke Ideal Beauty), how people think about painting (as a handiwork or as an ars (‘const’) which implies a teachable system, aptitude and exercise; or as a system of academic beauty ideals, respectively as the product of a social avant-garde) – all of this is historically determined. It was only through the insight into the concepts with which people thought about the art of painting at the time of Rembrandt that Emmens was able to place his work in iconographic series and identify transformations in themes and the formation of meaning. Only through insight into the genealogy of the concept of art will it become clear in which pitfall the debate on modern art has fallen. Interestingly, therefore, the modern concept of art (with originality and the crossing of cultural boundaries as principles) already reached its artistic limits at the beginning of the twentieth century (with the historical avant-garde). The lack of insight into the genealogy of the concept of art – or rather perhaps the disinterest that exists with regard to the knowledge already present in it – is not merely a symptom of the current crisis in art.161 It also preserves the prison in which contemporary artists find themselves and makes escape attempts fruitless for the time being.162 In all those early modern treatises that write about painting, through words, concepts and platitudes used by authors, a common sense emerges about what painting is and what images are. The debate on visuality takes place in the field of knowledge that is stretched between all those utterances. This field of knowledge is also maintained by the readers who use the terms provided and bring them into circulation when they talk about paintings. As such, knowledge about painting, about the image and image formation shapes a concrete and material discursive pattern in which handling also has a place and thus is embedded in a discursive framework. In this sense, the making of a painting is also a form of thought, even if it manifests itself in a matter other than words. In this sense, a painter – and this is possible without having consciously studied the rules of thought about painting – will always move within a context that consists of a limited collection of scattered words and terms, a demarcated network of values and norms. It is this field of knowledge that will always be at the forefront of my analysis. Instead of reading paintings as an expression of a latent conception of the painter in lines, color and composition, of an implicit philosophical idea, or considering the world 77 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 view of the painter or the painting itself as a representation of the scientific state of affairs at a historical moment, in short, as true ‘meaning’, the analysis of the image material should take other paths. In Foucault’s words, an archaeological analysis of a painting has a different purpose. Namely, to investigate how issues of distance and color, light and proportion were not only mentioned or reflected in theories and education, but also in the non-discursive practices of creation, techniques and gestures. ‘It would try to show that, at least in one of its dimensions, it is discursive practice that is embodied in techniques and effects. In this sense, the painting is not a pure vision that must then be transcribed into the materiality of space; nor is it a naked gesture whose silent and eternally empty meanings must be freed from subsequent interpretations. It is shot through – and independently of scientific knowledge (connaisance) and philosophical themes – with the positivity of a knowledge (savoir).163 For this reason I will stay very close to the terms used in the seventeenth century and pay a lot of attention to the way in which those terms are (inter)connected because only in this way will the knowledge systems within which Stevin, Cats and De Hooch worked and thought be traceable. From this point of view, it is only a small step to the next problem. As I mentioned earlier, I think it is wise to be cautious about the prevailing concepts, geographical demarcations and periodizations in Western art history. The seemingly logical sequence of Renaissance (the classical system of rules), Mannerism (attack on the classical rules), Baroque (the breakthrough of the classical system as a rule) and Classicism (the reinterpretation of the classical rules) is in fact based on the interpretation of the Italian development in the arts. For research into art production in the Netherlands, this has regularly led to confusion. Already in 1941 Vermeulen referred to the curious term of ‘Dutch Baroque’.164 After all, this term is reminiscent of the totally different ‘splendid Spanish, Italian, South German and Flemish Baroque’, but that style seems to have little to do with an architecture that remains ‘deeply rooted in the burgher culture’, ‘an art of sober pragmatism and of the typically Dutch, solid “common sense.”’165 Vermeulen’s conclusion is that especially the French, more academic Baroque ‘was transposed to a simpler tonality, to a cooler, more plain classical style, often so austere and even sparsely, that one may wonder whether we can really call such a motionless, rigid and stiff architectural style “Baroque” or that in this case we are in fact dealing with the most extreme form of sobriety and doctrinal classicism’.166 The confusion mentioned by Vermeulen does not stand alone.167 For what to think of the terms used by Ottenheym in 1989 as ‘classical baroque’ in distinction to ‘fancyful Mannerist forms of decoration’?168 78 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 In my research into the genesis of ‘the seventeenth-century Dutch house’ in architecture, painting and literature, I have been confronted with numerous conventional boundaries and disciplinary clichés that are incompatible with the historical source material. For example, it is believed that there is no Dutch art theory and that Dutch genre painting and Italian history painting are incomparable. Architectural history has its own fixed schemata. It is invariably assumed that the Renaissance view of beauty is rationalistic and that proportions can be expressed arithmetically (in whole numbers). For this reason, the geometric Golden Section ratio would not have been applied in the classicist designs.169 During my research, I will regularly take the opportunity to scrutinize these kinds of fixed routines and assumptions of individual disciplines. An additional problem is that the various disciplines often speak their own language. This has both advantages and disadvantages. Frijhoff points out, for example, that there are various circuits in which an own conceptual apparatus is used. He writes: ‘After all, everyone who is involved in science brings in his own language world, which is both socially and culturally determined. Groups have their group style and group codes; they give generally known terms meanings or connotations that are only properly understood by the group. Such group meanings are immediately comprehensible to all members of the group, provided that they are properly instructed in their use’.170 The usefulness of sharply defined scientific concepts is that they clarify and bring order. They can prevent clichés from creeping in, which could unintentionally lead to certain path-dependent thoughts. However, an excess of impressive jargon often points to the lack of an adequate approach – not only within, for example, iconology, but also within architectural theory and visual culture there is a lot of second-hand or third-hand use of loose terms borrowed from other disciplines. The very high speed with which certain concepts circulate underscores this. ‘Phenomena are called “complicated”, Anton Blok emphasizes, ‘when one has not yet been able to discover order or coherence in them, when one has not yet found the most adequate concepts to deal with them. That is precisely the main task of scientific research: to discover correlations there and to show where they are not yet known. (...) A complicated and obscure treatise merely demonstrates the inability of the researcher.’ His conclusion is therefore: ‘If phenomena are complicated, one should therefore try to write about them as simply and clearly as possible’.171 Moreover, depending on the scientific field, the same term can have several meanings. Furthermore, it happens repeatedly that concepts from an adjacent discipline are taken over uncritically. What is regarded as a seventeenth century ‘realistic’ painting within literary history or historical anthropology is a scientific problem for art history. What one discipline accepts as fact may be a question for another discipline, with all the confusion this can cause in an interdisciplinary 79 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 approach. In this context, it is remarkable that both literary history and cultural history show a preference for iconological interpretations. Both disciplines benefit from an image that is ‘readable’, i.e. can be traced back to (literary) texts.172 What one does not seem to realize, however, is that the actual art-historical problem – what are the distinctive characteristics of the visual source material? – is avoided by such an interpretation, also by iconology. In practice, I will always base myself on disciplines that use sharp definitions of concepts and make them an object of reflection. Here, too, an example is useful. Nowadays, in the case of Jacob Cats (e.g. in art history), people generally think in terms of ‘Calvinist’ and ‘moralist’ in the sense of ‘pious’ and ‘devotional’ and thus with a ‘mandatory marital morality’ in mind.173 However, when Jacob Cats uses words such as ‘honor’, ‘shame’ and ‘disgrace’ time and again in his plea for marriage, it should be obvious to analyze his work from the point of view of historical anthropology. After all, it is this discipline that has thought most explicitly about ‘honor and shame culture’ in cultural history. In this conceptual context, other utterances by Cats also appear to fall into place, such as ‘loss of face’ or maintaining decorum and social façades (appropriate behavior, appropriate clothing). The value pattern that then gradually manifests itself has little in common with current emancipatory categories such as ‘equal rights’ and ‘oppression’. Today, we inevitably think in such politically charged terms, but as analytical categories in historical research they fall short. This brings me to the third problem about which much has already been said in the first part of this chapter: the extent to which an accurate reading of historical material is hindered by our own everyday language. 174 Both cultural historians and anthropologists warn against taking our own values as our starting point. ‘But leaving aside the theoretical problems associated with the use of terms considered generally valid’, Frijhoff wrote in 1992, ‘the multitude of connotations adhering to everyday notions soon turns out to obscure the meaning of such terms or create confusion’.175 Anton Blok also points to the ‘theoretical confusion’ that arises when one mixes the appreciation of a social phenomenon with its analysis. ‘The question of how a particular society is structured and has developed appears to be closely intertwined with the question of how that society should be or should become. (...) Explaining oneself in an appreciative sense about a particular type of social phenomenon is an activity other than explaining what it consists of, how it has developed and how it relates to other phenomena. Since every human being is part of a social reality, it will probably never be possible to rigorously separate valuations from factual assertions. There is no need for the latter, as long as they are not mixed up.’176 80 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 As will be seen, in particular current terms from art, aesthetics and modernist architectural theory have found their way into everyday language, and these terms are also used carelessly by historians and anthropologists when studying their respective non-modern and non-Western cultures.177 That is why art historians like Emmens and Alpers warn against the use of ordinary everyday language. As Jan Emmens wrote in 1966, ‘My activity consisted and consists’, as Jan Emmens wrote in 1966, ‘of analyzing “texts” as historically sound as possible (...). What is at stake in an investigation is determined by the question. My question concerns the “texts” and it is fate that, as soon as someone responds with words to a work of art, he produces a “text”. For example, a statement like: this is a work of art, is such a “text”.’178 Finally, there is a fourth difficulty, that of translations. For practical reasons, I used several translated sources to map the conceptual contexts of Stevin, Cats and De Hooch. In these cases, studying ‘the original’ was often a specialization. For instance, Latin and Italian versions of Alberti’s work are known. Afterwards, his work was translated, edited and provided with summarizing titles and illustrations. A meticulous philological lecture or a critical reception history goes far beyond the scope of this book. Yet not all translations are of the same weight and it is not correct that the most recent translation is always the best. The usefulness of a translation mainly has to do with the attention a translator paid to the peculiarity of the text. Both in the ‘original’ and in a ‘translation’ it concerns a network of relations, the kind of meanings that result from them and the extent to which this ensemble is treated as an organic whole. An instructive example in this respect are the three translations of Leon Battista Alberti’s architectural treatise – that of Giacomo Leoni from 1755, that of Max Theuer from 1912 and that of Joseph Rykwert from 1988. Each translation is of course marked by the time in which it was made. What is interesting about Leoni’s translation, however, is that he uses an idiom from before modernism, an idiom that appears archaic to the current reader, precisely because modernist terminology has become the ordinary and obvious (a-historical) vocabulary for us to talk about architecture. Compared to Leoni, Rykwert thus ‘modernises’ Alberti’s text, which sometimes leads to a curious and incoherent whole. The two oldest translations by Leoni and Theurer are more balanced because they follow the peculiarities of Alberti’s text and thus do justice to the cohesion of his early modern argument. In other words, both translations trust that Alberti has made no nonsense, superfluous or irrelevant comments and that his efforts are aimed at defending his case. Take, for example, Book V, where Alberti writes about the properties of private buildings. After the treatment of porticus and the vestibule, 81 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 he speaks in the second chapter of some ‘inward chambers’. Leoni translates this as follows: Then the inner Rooms for eating, laying up all Manner of Necessaries, and the like, ought to be so contrived and situated, that the Things preserved in them may be well kept, that there be no want of Sun or Air, and that they have all Manner of proper Conveniencies, and be kept distinct, so that too great Familiarity may not lessen the Dignity, Conveniency or Pleasure of Guests, nor encourage the Impertinence of Persons that pay their Attendance to you. Rykwert writes the following in his translation: Inside, the dining rooms, storerooms, and so on should be appropriately located where their contents will keep well, where the air is right and they will receive the correct amount of sun and ventilation, and where they can serve their intended uses. They should be kept separate, lest excessive contact between guests and attendants detract from the dignity, comfort and pleasure of the former or increase the insolence of the latter. I’ll mention some differences between the texts. Leoni speaks of rooms where food can be eaten or where all kinds of necessities can be placed. Rykwert speaks of ‘dining rooms’ and storerooms’. Although at first glance there is no distinction in content between the two and Rykwert’s names seem more ‘to the point’, Leoni thinks in terms of rooms (in which anything can be done) while Rykwert mainly talks about a number of functional rooms. A similar nuance difference exists between ‘ought to be so contrived and situated’ (Leoni) and Rykwerts shorter notation of ‘be appropriately located’. However, this small difference turns out to have major consequences in architectural thinking, as further analysis shows. Leoni gives four considerations why sustainable conditions in the rooms are relevant: 1. the things to be kept must stay fresh in them. Rykwert, on the other hand, writes in a neutral sense that the ‘contents’ of the rooms must be well preserved, without indicating that they are perishable goods. 2. Leoni writes that there should be no lack of sun or air. Rykwert assumes a certain standardized amount (‘correct amount’) of ‘sun and ventilation, which has only been formulated and realized in modern times. Moreover, he introduces the nineteenthcentury term ‘ventilation’, a term (and a technique) based on the idea that ‘contamination’ is caused by a stagnant, piling up vitiated air. The strategy of ‘hygiene’ (also a nineteenth-century concept) consisted of airing of spaces.179 3. Leoni writes that the rooms must have all kinds of appropriate conveniences and thus adds something to the previous two points. Rykwert, on the other hand, translates ‘intended uses’, by which he says that rooms correspond to the intended use. Not only is this the programmatic language in which architects have been formulating their activities since the modern age, moreover (and this is more important here) Rykwert’s translation has transformed the sentence into a somewhat superfluous (and therefore irrelevant) remark. After all, in Rykwert’s 82 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 translation of the first two points, the functionality of the rooms is already fully implied. 4. The most important difference between the two translations appears when Rykwert writes that the rooms must be kept separate, because otherwise the social connections will be put under pressure (‘excessive contact’ between guests and servants detracts from the dignity, comfort and enjoyment of guests or increases the brutality of the staff). Leoni, on the other hand, writes that the rooms should remain separate, so that too great a familiarity (of those rooms) does not unduly diminish the dignity, comfort or pleasure of the guests, nor encourage the impertinence of persons who provide their services. In short: Rykwert evokes a modern world in which social interaction takes place in a neutralized environment in which the amount of sun, air and food are naturally under control; several of Alberti’s utterances thus fall outside the conceptual horizon: they have become unthinkable for us and can be considered obsolete. Leoni, on the other hand, evokes an early modern world in which Nature manifests itself in all its (detrimental and advantageous) capacities: the weather, the building materials and the people are all natural phenomena that must be taken into account when arranging the rooms. Other utterances by Alberti in his architectural treatise with regard to this natural field of forces – for example about the capability of art to keep vermin out of buildings or about cutting down trees at a certain phase of the moon – have been translated by Rykwert, but these utterances are very out of tune with the rest. This discrepancy is further accentuated by the (modernist) interest in issues such as proportion and beauty, which are thereby highlighted. In fact, this results in a very unbalanced version of Alberti’s architectural treatise that is hardly usable as a historical source. Incidentally, Theuer’s translation in this sense is more balanced (and therefore more useful) than Rykwert’s translation. Although his 1912 translation differs here and there from the other two, there is no question of modernizing Alberti’s text in such a way that it has become an incomprehensible hotchpotch.180 By now it will be clear that I have great difficulty with the way the source material is usually read. This applies both to my primary sources – the work of Stevin, Cats, De Hooch and Van Hoogstraten – and to the sources that form the conceptual context. Many researchers deal with these sources selectively on the basis of standard views. They paraphrase the line of discourse instead of examining it, uncritically following the division into books and chapters, replacing ‘old-fashioned’ terms with more understandable (i.e. modern) words, summarizing cumbersome arguments succinctly or omitting ‘unimportant’ details. None of this is beneficial to a thorough understanding of the assembly and working of the treatises. 83 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 In this book I want to test another method of analysis. In doing so, I apply three starting points. Firstly, the historical text, as Ruth Kelso once formulated it, has its own ‘fabric of thought’, whereby patterns are woven on the basis of terms and sentences.181 Tracking that fabric and distinguishing the individual threads running through it, their thickness, their course, their variety and bundling, is necessary to gain insight into the historical text. Kelso emphasizes that as a modern researcher she had to become part of that fabric in order to establish the coherence and pattern of the patchwork. Although I agree with her, I don’t want to go as far as Kelso when she says it’s not her book she wrote.182 Given my question, I have not examined the historical material in its entirety, but only in a few areas. Moreover, my comparative analysis made it necessary to keep asking the question how what I had found related to the other sources. In this sense, my reading method comes close to the working method used by science historians. In order to be able to read early modern texts, in order to be able to assess the stakes of debates, it is necessary to establish the conceptual context. Science historian Osler emphasizes this on the basis of her own research into the early modern relationship between natural philosophy and theology. ‘One important corollary of this view is that concepts formed in each domain can be found to be deeply embedded in the other. The boundaries between science and religion are neither fixed nor impermeable. Indeed the two domains often overlap, so that in the early modern period theological concerns, such as questions about the immortality of the soul or about evidence of providence in the world, were part of natural philosophy, while seemingly scientific questions such as mathematical descriptions of planetary motion or the nature of fossils were taken to have theological import. In addition to contextualizing both natural philosophy and theology in the intellectual traditions from which they sprang, this approach has the important consequence of permitting us to consider their interaction without imposing modern claims of privileged knowledge on either of them.’183 Then a second point. Unlike Kelso who read and ordered more than 500 treatises about women in the period 1400-1600, I have studied only a few works intensively. Through her working method Kelso was able to indicate the broad outlines and continuity of subjects and thought. It was precisely because of this ‘incredible stability of opinions, ideas and forms of expression, at least in writing, from the fourteenth to the eighteenth century’ that Marijke Spies felt it was necessary to carry out ‘very fine-grained research’. Only by going through the texts with a fine-toothed comb will it be possible to trace the changes in ‘the intellectual infrastructure’.184 This is ‘about the small shifts and differences’.185 Moreover, it then becomes visible that there are not grand, anonymous fractures, nor total innovations, and that authors can be mentioned by name. ‘In contrast to the traditional approaches,’ Osler explains her approach to the early modern 84 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 relations between science and religion, ‘I try to show how in many cases natural philosophers have appropriated concepts from theology and translated them into the language of natural philosophy, deploying these concepts to solve different problems in a new context. In addition to fostering a more fine-grained analysis that examines the fate of particular concepts rather than whole worldviews, these metaphors underscore the important point that individual people, not grand systems of ideas, are the agents of historical change.’ It matters, for example, whether seventeenth-century and early eighteenth-century writings on painting focus and elaborate on the separate characteristics of colors and hues, of lights and shadows (as is still done by Gerard de Lairesse, 1707) or whether in the second half of the eighteenth century (in this case by J.C. Weyerman) the ‘nice lights and shadows’ (aardige lichten en schaduwen) are mentioned almost in passing. 186 It is no coincidence that the subject of the writings also shifts: the first focuses on the art of painting, the second deals with famous painters.187 It makes a difference whether one speaks of buildings made by the ‘Gotten’, (the Goths, 16th century), of ‘gotsche’ (gothic) features in architecture (17th century) or of ‘Gothic’ (since the 19th century) as an independent style. 188 Following the fate of terms and concepts is thus a way of reading historical texts and charting the shifts, changes and conversions. The shift from a noun to an adjective, for example, indicates that something has changed in the conceptual context: something that used to be the main thing has been ‘put away’ or minimized, compared to something else that has become central. The cumbersomeness that from a modern point of view is so often a reason to summarize a treatise, should, in my opinion, not be understood as a ‘superfluous’ layer, but as a possible source of significations. In that sense I agree with the remark of W.A.P. Smit about the prose of Cats. Rather than dismissing his ‘verbosity’ and ‘long-windedness’ as annoying, we must ask ourselves what point of view this exhaustiveness ‘undoubtedly made sense’.189 Smit’s conclusion, drawn in 1962, is still valid today: ‘Therefore, the non-historically oriented modern reader will have great difficulty accepting the nature of the problems mentioned and the way of proving them – both are very different from ours! – than this prose as such.’190 My third point is that, as a result of this labor-intensive reading method, I will cross the text and image material a number of times. In doing so, I will try to do justice to the various lines of an argument, the many tongues it resonates, the multitude of anecdotes, metaphors and subjects that are scattered crisscross through a text. Cats’ Houwelick, for instance, is divided into books, but he repeats certain subjects in various locations in his treatise. The rationale of his thought is obscured by this excess of details, the many reiterations, narrative excursions and outflanking movements. Although I have read the work of Cats (and the others) 85 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 several times, it is still impossible to give a concise overview – precisely because such an ‘overview’ does not do justice to the content of Cats’ works and because this kind of early modern works is not composed in a modern way. In the end, this way of reading will lead to my meticulous treatment of the substance in each case in Chapter 2, 3 and 4. This book deals with four clichés that together gave shape to Dutch culture in the seventeenth century. Names such as Stevin, Cats, De Hooch and Van Hoogstraten as well as notions such as ‘the house’ and Dutch domesticity stand for a series of stereotypical views. I’ve outlined the contours in the previous section of Chapter 1 (1.1.1. on Simon Stevin, 1.1.2. on Jacob Cats and 1.1.3. on Pieter de Hooch). I am aware that this three-part sketch of (recent) interpretations of the work by Stevin, Cats and De Hooch is far from complete. A whole dissertation can easily be devoted to the reception history of Stevin’s work, and the same goes for De Hooch and Cats. The purpose of my sketch was to discover how much the works of the authors mentioned are interpreted from existing (and still recognizable) views. Stevin’s thought appears all too often to have been reduced to the rational pragmatism of the modern engineer, Cats is regarded as the propagandist of a bourgeois-patriarchal morality, and De Hooch’s work is viewed as a visually symbolic representation of domestic Dutch family life. In this way, modern authors do not do justice to these early modern works. People hastily step over the often heterogeneous composition of these sources, detach them from their conceptual context, or assess them on the basis of the socio-economic or current political-social framework. In short, they ignore the fact that these sources come from a different cultural and conceptual universe, a world that can be distinguished from ours in crucial respects. My attempt to unravel the very nature of that world is not aimed at searching for and revealing the totally different. In the first place, I have in mind a historiography in which it is about not reducing the world of others prematurely to that which is recognizable to us. Only in this way can the dynamics in the shifting patterns become visible. Only in this way can it be clarified where (and in what shape) current culture is bound to the early modern and where it is cut off from it. Only in this way can the genealogy of the arts in Western culture be written as a ‘heritage’ that exists, is transmitted and can be identified, but whose shape and significance (and thus cultural heritage as ‘identity’) is constantly transforming. What we are about to see is, in Doniger’s words, ‘the mechanism by which rebirth can take place despite the fact that there is no soul to transmigrate.’191 So, the aim of this research is not to show that stereotypes are incorrect or that it is incorrect to use clichés. No doubt I will not escape these clichés myself, but my 86 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 stakes are different. I would like to show how a cliché makes one-sided use of multifaceted material namely, to tell and substantiate a certain story. This means that a cliché or stereotype is not untrue, but possesses particular cultural-historical knowledge.192 It is first and foremost a cultural procedure – known among anthropologists such as Lévi-Strauss, Dumézil and Doniger as mythologization 193 – which (in past and present) makes a complex and heterogeneous combination of images, words and meanings manageable by emphasizing, reducing, magnifying or highlighting some specific aspects that matter in a culture. The aim of this study is therefore not so much to catch the various clichés on their mythical content (in the sense of illusory, imaginative, unreal) and then replace them with a more scientific image (in the sense of more objective, correct and realistic), but rather to demonstrate the efficacy of this mythological way of thinking. The sources in early modern culture can then be investigated because these mythological structures reveal their own burning issues. 87 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Notes 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. Frijhoff 1992A, p. 13; Grafton 1990, p. 1; Van Berkel 1986, pp. 26-30, 43-45 and 127-128; Grafton 1999, pp. 16-17. Spilt 1982; Burke 1983, 1986, 1991 Ginzburg 1988; Van den Brink 1996A; Frijhoff 1984A and B, 1987, 1992. Historians using an anthropological conceptual apparatus (Burke, Frijhoff, Thomas, Rooijakkers, Dibbets); anthropologists carrying out historical studies (Blok, Cieraad). Debate about the primacy in culture in terms of structure or development (Cohn, Van Ginkel, Locher, Vos). Frijhoff 1992A, p. 23. Burke 1990, pp. 12-13; Le Goff 1987; Frijhoff 1992A, p. 27. Burke 1988A, p. 15. Spilt 1982; Foucault 1982A and B; Burke 1983. Foucault 1982, p. 490. Braudel 1979; Kloek 1993C; Le Goff 1987; Stoffers 1994, p. 27. Braudel 1979; Foucault 1982C, p. 487. Spilt 1982, p. 377. Le Roy Ladurie 1984; Ginzburg 1981. Pleij 1988; Van Oostrom 1987, 1996. Rooijakkers 1994, pp. 80-81. Rooijakkers 1994, p. 79. Van der Woude 1991; Schuurman et al. 1997; Dibbets 1998. Bremmer et al.1993; Spicer 1993; Roodenburg 1993A, 1993 B and 1995A. Kleijer 1992, p. xi. Frijhoff 1992B, p. 3; Frijhoff 1992A, pp. 15, 29. Rooijakkers 2000, p. 110. Van der Woude 1991, p. 86 points out that until the 1970s ethnology used cultural artefacts as tools to explain other collective cultural phenomena. Rooijakkers 1996, p. 126, writes that ‘the important significance of the image in communication processes is acknowledged by everybody’. Frijhoff 1992B, p. 3. Frijhoff 1992B, p. 1. Rooijakkers 1996, pp. 138-139. Rooijakkers 1996, p. 139. Rooijakkers 1996, pp. 139, 141; Frijhoff 1992B, p. 3: ‘The form is like a shell that can be filled with meaning over and over again’. Rooijakkers 1996, p. 139. Rooijakkers 1996, pp. 138-139. See also Henneke 1995; Frijhoff 1992A and 1998. De Mare 1997A. Such as Vandenbroecke1987A, Henneke 1995 and work by De Jongh. Rooijakkers 1996, p. 135, Van de Pol 1988A, pp. 109-144; Roodenburg 1993A, p. 198; Spicer 1993, pp. 126, 129. Rooijakkers 1996, p. 142. Burke 1988B, p. 185. Van der Woude 2000B, pp. 36, 39. Van der Woude 2000B, p. 36. Van der Woude 2000B, p. 40. Frijhoff 1998, p. 52. Frijhoff 1992B, p. 5: ‘Quite a few studies devoted in recent years to the communication 88 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. process and its effectiveness in bringing about forms of socio-cultural change are based on a self-evident recognition and appropriation of cultural codes, semantics and symbolism, by all those who come into contact with them. As if it’s enough to offer a meaning to make her dominate as well. And as if there were no escape for manipulation. But that is precisely one of the big new questions of cultural history: was (and is) society really as one as we think it is? To what extent exactly does the common habitus of a group go, to what extent does the common fund of knowledge (common knowledge) provide that the basis of mutual understanding, to what extent are codes of conduct not only group-defined, but also recognizable as meaningful only for specific groups?’ Lucien Fèbvre already pointed this out in 1942 in his study Le problème de l'incroyance au 16e siècle; la religion de Rabelais, according to Van der Woude 2000B, p. 40. Frijhoff 1992B, pp. 1, 6-7. Dear 1995, p. 151. Dear 1995, p. 3. Miedema 1989A, pp. 54-55. Poppe 1984, p. 69. Van de Waal 1946, p. 9. Rooijakkers 1996, p. 139: ‘In this communicative approach to image material, the classical regional demarcations in so-called “folk art” play no role, the principle of originality or authenticity is abandoned, while a diachronic long-term approach is essential to bridge the alleged gap between pre-industrial “folk art” and industrial visual culture. It goes without saying that the aesthetic criterion has been abandoned; from the perspective of broad reception and “art” consumption, it is precisely the trivial that is taken as the starting point here: preference for kitsch rather than art, the larger the circulation, the more relevant to the research’. Shapin 1997. Osler 1998, p. 91. Osler 1998, p. 99. Osler 1998, p. 92. Osler 1998, p. 93. Osler 1998, p. 107. Foucault 1982A, pp. 239-240. Osler 1998, p. 107. Schmitt 1973, p. 165. Grafton 1999, pp. 1-3; Dear 1997. Grafton 1999, p. 3. The history of science is missing as a separate discipline, e.g. in Burke 1991. Dear 2001, p. vii; Egmond 1999, p. 9. Foucault 1982B, pp. 486-499. Vanpaemel 1998. The question of the primacy of ‘art’ or ‘history’ is still unresolved today. As Van Strien wrote in 1998, p. 254: ‘But literary history has never been and never will be “history”. Besides the fascination for what people once thought was important, admiration for what is important remains an important motive for the practitioners of the profession’. For ‘intrinsic’ and ‘extrinsic’ art historical studies, see Kleinbauer 1971. Where there is intensive interdisciplinary exchange between (art) histories, this theoretical question has now disappeared behind the horizon. De Mare 1997A. Vanpaemel 1998, p. 270. 89 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. Neal 1999. Porter 1991B, p. 2. In the meantime, many studies have appeared that interpret the transmission and transformation of exact thought, medical knowledge and technological intervention in a broad cultural-historical context in which religious and hermetic thinking both have a place. ‘It is now time’, Schmitt already noted in 1973, ‘that we explore in detail the continuity – or lack of it – of the scholastic tradition through the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries from the new perspectives we have gained on the fourteenth century. A second admonition – and one which I direct specifically to historians of science – would also be useful here: do not look at the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries primarily from the framework of seventeenth century, when, according to the popular interpretation “good new” science replaced “bad old” science. By this I mean we should call a halt to the attempt (...) of specifically tying the doctrines of seventeenth-century science to what seem to be earlier premonitions of these’. Schmitt 1973. Schmitt 1973, pp. 165-166. Elkins 1994 and Smith 1999. Lévi-Strauss 1981 talks about ‘the science of the concrete’, pp. 11-48. This attention to the arts and the related intellectual domain does not imply a restoration of the opposition between populace and elite. Instead of a return to the (nineteenth century) distinction between high and low culture, the present cultural-historical study focuses on the early modern ‘science of the concrete’ as it has manifested itself in thinking about the arts. What place the arts occupy in early modern culture, to what extent they form a formalized knowledge system and to what extent they differ as such from the current concept of art, will have to be revealed from the following analysis. Poppe 1992, p. 95; Poppe 1984, pp. 56-58. Lévi-Strauss 1979B, pp. 206-230. Lévi-Strauss 1979B, p. 230. Lévi-Strauss 1979B, p. 230. Lévi-Strauss 1979B, p. 210. Lévi-Strauss 1979B, pp. 211-212. Lévi-Strauss 1979B, p. 212. This emphasis on relational issues dates back to De Saussure’s statements at the beginning of the twentieth century. See De Saussure 1983, p. 105; Van der Woude 2000C, pp. 87-88 in 1991 advocated the importance of this relational signifying process for historiography. Mooij 1979, p. 49. Mooij 1979, p. 52. De Kuyper 1990, p. 143; De Kuyper 1980, p. 113, with reference to the structuralist method as interpreted by Hjelmslev and Metz. De Kuyper 1990, p. 143. Frijhoff & Hoeks 1994, p. 699. Ejchenbaum 1982, pp. 45-46: ‘We establish certain concrete principles and, as long as the material justifies them, allow ourselves to be guided by them. When the material forces us to formulate or change these principles more sharply, we do so’, says Ejchenbaum in 1927. Jakobson 1982; Propp 1973, Coquet 1986 and 1987, Poppe 1984. Borms 1986; Post 1998. Bogman 1982, pp. 45-46; Lemon & Reis 1975, pp. 102-103. Bogman 1982, p. 47. Foucault 1976A, 1977, 1982A resp. 1976B, 1984A and B, 1986. De Mare 1983. 90 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. Foucault 1985B, pp. 59-60 and pp. 39-56; Doniger 1998; Bertels 1973. It is precisely in this view that ‘structuralism’ is accused of being ‘formalistic’. See e.g. MacCabe 1985, p. 77 ‘contaminated by formalism; by a structuralism that it claimed to have left behind...’; King 1987, p. 56: ‘the old formalist injunction to set aside questions of what a text is about, how and why it appeared, in favor of how it is made..’. Recently Doniger 1998, p. 151 emphasized this with regard to the methodological principles applied by Lévi-Strauss. ‘Lévi-Strauss’s structural models have, like archetypes been faulted for being disconnected from history, change, the flow of time: they are said to exist in a Platonic void that would make them equally relevant at all moments in the life of a culture, any culture. But the structural method does not just provide a kind of statis (...): structuralism sees myths as processes of synthesis and change. Moreover, in Myth and Meaning Lévi-Strauss makes explicit the connection with history that he has in fact always intended his structures to have, when he argues for the diachronic aspects of myths (changing through time) as well as their synchronic aspects (transcending the barriers of time)’. See for instance: Adang 1981; Bosma 1982; Thomas 1999, pp. 76-88; Evans & Hall 1999, pp. 61-71; Van Duin 1989, pp. 9-11; Mirzoeff 1999, pp. 50-51; Burke 1991, p. 1; Porter 1991A, pp. 216, 218; Markus 1993. Recently Sturken & Cartwright 2001 on p. 361 described panopticism as ‘a theory used by French philosopher Michel Foucault to characterize the ways that modern social subjects regulate their own behavior’. Instead of a history of some fixed subject (punishment, prison, sex, lust) that, ‘once formed, evolves over time’ (Foucault 1982A, p. 31), his genealogical studies of thought in Western culture offer shifting conceptual patterns (Foucault 1976A, 1977 and 1984A and B). ‘Punishment’, ‘prison’, ‘body’, ‘sex’ and ‘lust’ change in significance, precisely because they are part of these shifting discursive patterns. In the genealogical approach – going back in time – the many provenances, the accidental links and the distribution pattern of the utterances that preceded the formation of a modern concept can become clear. Foucault 1977, pp. 9-10. Hampsher-Monk 1998. In this case expressed by the semiotic Kim in his book 1996, p. xiii. Ditto Sturken & Cartwright 2001, p. 354. Foucault 1982A, pp. 76, 139. Foucault 1982A, p. 139: ‘a differential analysis of the modalities of discourse’. Foucault 1982A, p. 38: ‘Whenever one can describe between a number of statements, such a system of dispersion, whenever, between objects, types of statement, concepts, or thematic choices, one can define a regularity (an order, correlations, positions and functionings, transformations), we will say, for the sake of convenience, that we are dealing with a discursive formation – thus avoiding words that are already overladen with conditions and consequences, and in any case inadequate to the task of designating such a dispersion, such as “science”, “ideology”, “theory”, or “domain of objectivity”. The conditions to which the elements of this division (objects, mode of statement, concepts, thematic choices) are subjected we shall call the rules of formation. The rules of formation are conditions of existence (but also of coexistence, maintenance, modification, and disappearance) in a given discursive division’. Foucault 1982A, pp. 183-184. In this sense Foucault’s approach touches on that of LéviStrauss 1979B, p. 229, which describes as the goal of the myth: ‘to provide a logical model capable of overcoming a contradiction (an impossible achievement if, as it happens, the contradiction is real)’. 91 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. Foucault 1982A; Foucault 1977, pp. 26, 28 and 30. Foucault 1976A, p. 27. Foucault 1976A, p. 27. Foucault 1976A, p. 29, in which he explains that Mendel’s hereditary doctrine is conceived separately from the species and the genus and only becomes visible by tracing its regularity in the generations. Foucault 1982A, pp. 186-187 distinguishes four thresholds with regard to the formalisation of discourses. He indicates them as follows: ‘It is possible to describe several distinct emergences of a discursive formation. The moment at which a discursive practice achieves individuality and autonomy, the moment therefore at which a single system for the formation of statements is put into operation, or the moment at which this system is transformed, might be called the threshold of positivity. When in the operation of a discursive formation, a group of statements is articulated, claims to validate (even unsuccessfully) norms of verification and coherence, and when it exercises a dominant function (as a model, a critique, or a verification) over knowledge, we will say that the discursive formation crosses a threshold of epistemologization. When the epistemological figure thus outlined obeys a number of formal criteria, when its statements comply not only with archaeological rules of formation, but also with certain laws for the construction of propositions, we will say that it has crossed a threshold of scientificity. And when this scientific discourse is able, in turn, to define the axioms necessary to it, the elements that it uses, the propositional structures that are legitimate to it, and the transformations that it accepts, when it is thus able, taking itself as a starting-point, to deploy the formal edifice that it constitutes, we will say that it has crossed the threshold of formalization’. Poppe 1991, p. 241-242. Poppe 1991. Lévi-Strauss 1978A, pp. 170-171. Lévi-Strauss 1978A, pp. 170-171; Propp 1973; Doniger 1998, p. 60. Poppe 1984, p. 57. In cultural history the term ‘morphology’ has already been used by Huizinga 1975 in his publication ‘The task of cultural history’. He speaks of (general and special) ‘doctrine of forms’, because it must be possible for the cultural historian to understand the ‘special shapes of historical life’ (Huizinga 1995, p. 120). Halbertsma & Zijlmans 1993, p. 39. IJsseling 1981, p. 26. For example, Van Berkel 1986 defends hermeneutics as a method of cultural science, pp. 53-68. ‘What’s the content? Not the outside world’, Eco writes in 1981, p. 7. ‘The content of a system of signification depends on our cultural organization of the world in categories’. Where Eco with ‘world’ does not mean ‘the physical world’ as a matter of course, but a possible universe of conceptual units. IJsseling 1981; Mooij 1979, Borms 1986. Barthes 1984, p. 18. Barthes 1984, pp. 12-45. Hadjinicolaou 1979B, pp. 622-645. Like Hecht 1989. Foucault 1982A; Schmitt 1973; Doniger 1998 speaks here of the ‘implied spider’. Gaskell 1991, pp. 173-178. Halbertsma & Zijlmans 1993, pp. 26-27. Geertman 1989, p. 9. 92 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. Geertman 1993, p. 17. Geertman 1989, p. 9. Tzonis 1982, pp. 15-16. Tzonis 1975, 1978. Van der Woud 1997, p. 5. Tzonis 1982, pp. 12-13. Grootes 1980, p. 7. Grootes 1980, p. 9. Grootes1980, p. 5. Grootes 1980, p. 5. Grootes 1980, p. 15. Grootes 1980, p. 7. Elkins 1999, pp. 3-12. Grootes 1980, p. 7. Summers 1981, p. 122. Frijhoff 1987, pp. 193-194. Struik 1979; Van Berkel 1985; Mok 1988; Vanpaemel 1995; Van Bunge 1999. Dijstelberge 1996; Kluiver 1978; Noordman 1982; Van Es 1962. Researching for instance the series of utterances through time about Simon Stevin’s town drawing, about Jacob Cats’ Houwelick and about Pieter de Hooch’s painting ‘The linen cupboard’, we will notice the following. On the one hand, the series show how certain objects migrate over time; on the other hand, the shift in significance shows that this migration is only possible by attaching other meanings to the same object. At the same time, these series show that the words one chooses are decisive for the impression that this generates of cultural-historical objects. De Blécourt 1992, p. 319. They speak of ‘cross-national’ (Zimmerman 1989, p. 9), ‘pan-European’ (Chastel & Guillaume, 1988); ‘the continent of Europe’ (Maclean 1980). This has primarily to do with the size of Wittewrongel’s 700-page Christiana Oeconomia. I consulted this work in a Dutch translation from 1925. This is the fifth chapter in the third book of the Zedekunste dat is wellevenskunste, p. 178201. The standard consultation of very diverse photographic material (and copies thereof) at the Rijksdienst voor Kunsthistorische Documentatie (RKD) in The Hague also bears witness to this. Van Straten 1994, pp. 75-94. Kristeller 1961, p. 24; Kristeller 1972; Burke 1989. Kristeller 1961, p. 69. Close 1969. Modern views on positive and negative valuations of the woman are an example of the stereotypes mentioned above, which should be taken into account separately in the analysis of historical text and images. Especially within women’s studies this extra layer of significance is clearly visible. Maclean 1980, p. 2. Maclean 1980, pp. 1-2. By the way, the composition of the historical compartments is different than we assume today. For example, mystical and occult texts should also be included in the study of the early modern theological compartment. 93 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166. 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. 182. As Claude Lévi-Strauss 1980, p. 14, once said about the myth, its apparent incoherence poses a challenge to the researcher. For, he says, ‘It was not possible (...) that people spent their time telling absurdities. I believe that there is also order and reason in this, and it is from this spirit that I have tackled the problem’. Stevin 1649, p. 95. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 85. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 87. Stevin 1649, pp. 92-93. Besides Emmens 1964, see also De Pauw-de Veen 1969. She carried out a detailed investigation into the terms used at the time to write about paintings. For an explanation of her scientific method, see pp. xii-xiv. For the regularly recurring debate on the status of modern art and painting, see for example NRC Handelsblad 1997 and 2001. Foucault 1982A, pp. 193-194. Vermeulen 1941, pp. 1-36: that it is ‘desirable and necessary [to] account more accurately for the meaning’ of the words baroque and classicism. Vermeulen 1941, p. 59. Vermeulen 1941, p. 60. Emmens 1964, p. 3. Ottenheym 1989, pp. 8-9, 16-17, 18. Wittkower 1996; Ottenheym 1991A. Frijhoff 1992A, p. 11. Blok 1977, p. 14. De Mare 1997A. Sutton 1998, pp. 68-75. Jakobson 1982; Emmens 1964. Frijhoff 1992A, p. 11. Blok 1977, p. 13. Johnson 1994; Forty 2000, pp. 19, 103-105. Emmens 1981-IIH, p. 123. See the Verslag aan den koning over de vereischten en inrigting van arbeiderswoningen (KIVI Report 1855, Report to the King on the requisitioning and occupation of workers' dwellings). De Heer 1979; Berkers & Van de Ven 1981; Vos 1986. Theuer 1912, pp. 223-224: ‘Die inneren Räume und Gemächer werden an geeigneten Stellen angeordnet, dass man sie ordentlich einrichten kann, und dass Luft, Sonne und Wind genügend Zutritt haben; dass sie ihrer Bestimmung vollkommen entsprechen, und sich voneinander unterscheiden, damit der Verkehr oder das Ansehen, die Bequemlichlichkeit und das Behagen der Gäste oder der Bewohner nicht etwa leide, und der Übermut derselben zunehme’. ‘The inner rooms and chambers are to be arranged in suitable places, so that they can be arranged properly, and that air, sun and wind have sufficient access; that they correspond perfectly to their purpose, and differ from each other, so that the traffic or the reputation, the comfort and the well-being of the guests or the inhabitants do not suffer, and the exuberance of the same does not increase’. For the relevant citations, see Leoni 1755, p. 84 and Rykwert 1988, p. 119. Kelso 1956. Kelso 1956, p. 4: ‘But as every writer knows, there is a stubborn life about one’s subject that will assert its will and bend intentions to another end. (...) To do mere justice to the theme I was driven to become a joiner of other’s men’s sayings into a patchwork of as 94 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 183. 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. much design and coherence as possible. It was the only way to save for the modern reader the color and feel and spice of these old books’. Osler 1998, p. 93. Maclean 1980, p. 1. Skewer 1986B, pp. 344-345. Then in ‘confrontation, over and over again, with the concrete social situation and the shifts that occur in it’. Derived from Taylor 1992. De Lairesse 1707; Houbraken 1718; De Pauw-De Veen 1969, p. 68 confirms this shift in terminology and subject matter. De Jongh 1973, p. 93: ‘The existence of an adjective as a stylistic concept deserves the necessary attention because it often points to frequent use and a general meaning. And in this case, when it comes to the word ‘gotisch’ (Gothic) [which has replaced ‘built by the Goths’], there would indeed, at least at some point in time, be commonplace'. Smit 1962, p. 79. Smit 1962, p. 94. Doniger 1998, p. 51. De Mare 1990A, B and C. Lévi-Strauss 1970, 1980, 1981; Doniger 1998, 2001; Littleton 1973; De Ruijter 1979; Raatgever 1990. 95 

Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 INTRODUCTION In Holland staat een huis There is a house in Holland AEN DEN LESER. Meynt iemant desen Boeck te langh of groot te wesen, Die magh, indien hy wil, alleen maer weynigh lesen; Een reden, sonder meer, een regel wel gevat, Een spreucke, waerde vrient, is hier een groote schat. Soo ghy daerom dit werck misschien eens quaemt te koopen, Herkaut, eer dat ghy swelght, slockt niet, gelijck een vraet: Maer denckt meer, als ghy leest; en leest meer als’er staet. Jacob Cats (1630), Spiegel van den Ouden en Nieuwen Tyt. Elck spiegle hem selven, in: ADW I, p. 483. TO THE READER. Does somebody means this Book to be too long or too great, He may, if he will, only reading little; A reason, without doubt, a rule well understood, A proverb, dear friend, is a great treasure here. So maybe if you bought this book someday, Ruminate, before you swallow, don’t gulp, like a glutton: But think more than you read; and read more than it says. Jacob Cats (1630), Mirror of the Old and the New Time. Everyone mirrors himself, in: All The Works, vol. I, p. 483. The house appeals to the imagination. It’s a place everyone knows from childhood home. Because it is the daily base for every individual and every household, it evokes memories for everyone, dear or not, but always charged with emotions and experiences. It is also an object to which subjective but powerful images, imaginations and meanings are attached. In short: the house is for all of us an object as important as it is personal. Maybe that’s why it lends itself to all kinds of projections and myths, even among professionals.1 The early modern house is often seen as a kind of counterpart of the contemporary.2 I mention three intellectual environments where the early modern house is assigned this role: scholars, feminists and architectural engineers. Scholars and the early modern house The early modern house enjoys a great deal of interest among sociologists, anthropologists and historians. This interest is related to the influence of the historical work of the sociologist Norbert Elias in these disciplines.3 Starting from his book The Civilizing Process (1939), in which Elias described the 1 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 psychogenesis of the individual in relation to processes of state formation, countless authors consider the early modern age as a period in Europe in which modern man appears. This would be characterized by a more restrained drift life. Elias derived this from sixteenth century manners books (for instance by Erasmus), which contain descriptions of appropriate and inappropriate attitudes or gestures. In his opinion, the cultural change manifests itself in courtly circles in France and Germany. Certain manners become painful, undesirable, they eventually disappear and are ‘pushed behind the scenes’, according to Elias.4 Many people after him have elaborated this transformation in two ways. First of all, the attention is more explicitly focused on the changes that have taken place on and in humans. Subjects such as the emergence of the modern (civilized, but fearful) human being, the history of personal life, the changed position of the woman, the child and the family have become commonplace among historians. French historians such as Philip Ariès, George Duby, Jean-Louis Flandrin and Robert Muchembled, as well as English authors such as Peter Burke and Roy Porter, illustrate this. In the most recent studies, this interest leads to research into the social construction of the ‘self’ in a variety of contexts. ‘The profound writings of Norbert Elias on “the civilizing process”, Roy Porter wrote a few years ago as an introduction to the collection Rewriting the Self. Histories from the Renaissance to the Present, ‘have likewise pointed to the ties between the psychological change and new opportunities for solitude and interiority provided by trends in material culture – books, mirrors, individual bedrooms and so on.’5 The body, subjectivity and gender have been accepted as fully-fledged objects of historical research. They each have their own history that is supported by an interdisciplinary group of scholars.6 The second elaboration of Elias’s theory focused on the increasing spatialmaterial differentiation that would have taken place after the Middle Ages between intimate and public areas of life. ‘Elias regarded the process of differentiation between the private domain and the public domain from the early modern period onwards as a process of civilization.’7 Afterwards, authors – possibly building on some of Elias’s marginal remarks about the house as ‘demarcated territory’8 – associated this shift with changes in the relationship between house and city and with the appearance of new material objects. The contrast between the old way of living and contemporary living is said to have arisen in the early modern era. For example, the sociologist Richard Sennett presents the historical house as an ethical counterbalance to the current metropolitan experience. He begins his argument about the boundary that nowadays divides inner and outer life with a sketch of the medieval house. With its undifferentiated space, this would have offered the individual both a certain freedom and protection from the chaotic outside world. ‘Medieval houses had few 2 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 specialized rooms, for love or any other purpose. Even among the affluent the same room could serve as a place to eat, to defecate, to do business, and to sleep.’9 In his vision, the later division of the Western house into specialized spaces has brought the individuals out of balance. Scattered about a differentiated modern world in which the subjective inner space is separated from the public space, in which people are figuratively but also literally are pigeonholed, a modern world that he places in the (negative) sign of fear, inequality, isolation, alienation and lack of freedom (bp.intro.1).10 Gender studies and the early modern house In a similar way, within women’s studies, the bourgeois house from the period 1400-1700 from the seventies onwards has been held responsible for the secondclass position of women as ‘housewives’.11 In the Middle Ages the woman would still have been active in public life, but from the early modern era she was banished to the house. It is true that the separation between public and private spheres has not yet been completed in this period, but it started in this period and since then the confinement of the woman in the house has only got worse.12 ‘Central in the history of the housewife is the displacement and eviction of women from public life to the secluded sphere of the nuclear family. This development goes hand in hand with the cult of the ideal of the good housewife, which culminates in the Victorian image of the woman of the wealthy bourgeoisie’.13 The separation between ‘private sphere’ and ‘public sphere’ is still an prominent measure for assessing the social position of women. From the 1990s onwards, a somewhat different emphasis was placed by pointing out that ‘the housewife who looks after her house and her children exclusively has historically been an exception rather than a rule’. Instead of the subordinate housewife in the private sphere, more emphasis is now placed on the contribution of women in the public sphere. The conclusion is that ‘in every historical period and in every society there have been women who carry out important tasks other than taking care of a nuclear family.’14 Themes like work, technology, identity and body that have come to the fore in recent years, as well as the introduction of new theoretical concepts, but these did not, however, change the premises.15 These premises recur in a concise manner in feminist architectural theory. It examines ‘the way in which the built environment shapes the relationship between private and public’.16 One understands architecture and building as a man’s stronghold and the house respectively dwelling as a women’s business. The starting point is – explicitly or implicitly – the subordination (domestication) of the woman. From the end of the seventies in the Netherlands books with titles such as Huis uit, huis in (House out, house in), Van buiten naar binnen, (From the outside inwards), Mannen bouwen en vrouwen wonen, (Men build and women 3 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 dwell), Vrouwendomicilie en mannendominantie (Female domicile and male dominance), but also De zijkant van Bouwen (The she-side of Building) and De zijkant van architectuur (The she-de of architecture) appear (bp.intro.2). In the meantime, this vision has been elaborated and nuanced in various ways. There is also a tendency to highlight both women’s contributions to architectural production and men’s contributions to dwelling. ‘From this gender perspective, the separation between building and dwelling is no longer the obvious starting point, but a dichotomous construction based on sex, which can be undermined with the help of these questions.’17 At the same time, under the influence of psychoanalysis, film theory, semiotics, discourse analysis and deconstruction theory, the issue is formulated in different terms.18 Titles such as Sexuality & Space, Voyeurism in the Home, The Sex of Architecture, Architecture and Phallocentrism and Melodrama Inside and Outside the Home appear. Incidentally, male authors – with titles such as The housing van gender, Building SEX, Perverse Space – are not indifferent. These contributions are no longer about the house, but about ‘space’, no longer about the position of women, but about ‘sexuality’, no longer about roles, but about ‘social constructions’, no longer about sex but about ‘gender’.19 From this point of view, the architectural discipline is seen as a ‘cultural apparatus that establishes and maintains gender differentiations’. The entanglement between ‘gender’ and ‘architecture’ is sought at all sorts of levels and described as an ‘amalgam of ideological categories and schemata’.20 However, the new terminology changes little in the tone and outcome of these studies. According to contemporary feminist architectural theorists, architecture produces ‘hierarchies in the discourse that establish and secure men’s dominance over women’.21 It is true that people no longer talk about oppression but about ‘discriminatory aspects’ of a patriarchal nature that are ‘inscribed in the space itself’.22 But what does that change? The role of the early modern house and of the woman in it continues to be seen in the old way. In the Netherlands this was confirmed in various ways a few years ago. For example, the Tijdschrift voor vrouwenstudies (Journal of Women’s Studies) embraced the views of Mark Wigley, who sees architecture as a device for locking women up and controlling female sexuality.23 Walter Benjamin’s view of the bourgeois interior is objected to, since he does not mention ‘that the private sphere, the domestic sphere, is an essential appendage of bourgeois marriage and is thus also associated with the woman, not only as being female, but as being wife and mother. It is the mother who guarantees the privacy of the house by maintaining it properly. Decency is as fundamental protection against a raid or curiosity as the surrounding walls of the house itself’.24 So to this day there seems to be no escape: the exegesis of the house remains coercive and invariably negative. 4 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Considering all the hardship and torment that occupies the early modern house from a feminist perspective, it is not surprising that women’s studies have begun to focus on more inspiring architectural phenomena. Architectural historians now feel more challenged by modernist houses of the twentieth century.25 In addition, intelligent houses of the future and a virtual life in cyberspace are a way out. New spaces to be formed allow a projection of the whole range of (feminist and female-friendly) visions. Future spaces in which ultimately the boundary between public and private is dissolved, labor and care are merged, personal life can be wrapped up in an aesthetic way, sexuality can fully unfold, and the gaze may no longer be exclusively male.26 The ultimate consequence of this postmodern desire has been appearing for some years in the guise of a new kind of human being, sung loose from any space. In 1985 it was the cyborg that, according to Donna Haraway, was cut off from all cultural-historical ties. ‘The cyborg is resolutely committed to partiality, irony, intimacy, and perversity. It's oppositional, utopian, and completely without innocence. No longer structured by the polarity of public and private, the cyborg defines a technological polis based partly on a revolution of social relations in the oikos, the household. Nature and culture are reworked; the one can no longer be the resource for appropriation or incorporation by the other.’27 In the virtual reality of the Web, many identities can be found and are constantly changing. Virtual reality offers the contemporary subject a continuous alternation of psychological and physical qualities, social contexts and thus a multiple, fragmented identity, according to Turkle. The everyday reality (Real Life) is no more than one of the many windows that can be activated by a click with the mouse.28 Architectural engineers and the early modern house Finally, the critical architectural designers have also debated the house a lot and passionately for a number of years. They are vehemently opposed to the ‘instanthome’ that has become commonplace as a political policy instrument of Dutch public housing. This refers to the introduction of the Dutch Housing Act in 1901 and the public housing policy that followed. The needs of the people were examined quantitatively, subjected to forecasting and converted into planned schedules. Only the measurable wishes and desires of the residents are manageable in such a programming method.29 With titles such as Denk-beelden van het wonen (Thought-images of dwelling), De architectuur van het wonen (The architecture of dwelling), De traagheid van het wonen (The Sluggishness of dwelling), Wonen tussen gemeenplaats en poëzie (Dwelling between commonplace and poetry), Het Wilde Wonen (Wild Dwelling), Het kant-en-klaarhuis (The ready-made souse) and Heilige Huisjes (Sacred Houses), one juxtaposes 5 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 the boring calculable manufacturability with everything that has been excluded (bp.intro.3 and 4).30 Fascinations and dreams, desire and memory, womb and nomad, the sublime and the spiritual, myth and fairy tale, journey and religion, film and literature are all topoi that can be found in the recent reflections of architectural writers in their search for the soul or essence of dwelling. In this search for the meaning of contemporary architecture, the ‘history’ turns out to be a highly valued Fundgrube because people can find everything they want in it. Consciously or unconsciously, most architectural writers take a limited, purely chronological view in their dealings with ‘history’.31 The development from ancient Greece, via the Italian Renaissance, inevitably ends in the present of the Western European house. Van Zeijl, for example, summarizes this historical development as follows: ‘In the Renaissance and Baroque periods, the dwelling developed into the domain of privileged man. Dwelling becomes a privilege for some, it is a confirmation of the difference compared to those who lack the means to represent themselves through dwelling. Soon, however, in the French Revolution, the people spoke of themselves as the inhabitants of a palace on the basis of social utopia’.32 As a result of the French Revolution and the Industrial Revolution, modern man in the nineteenth-century metropolis is definitively alienated from his original home. ‘The poetic dwelling seems to be only a memory, while the modern dwelling, which under the influence of bureaucratization has been reduced to rented property, seems to fail in its efforts to rid society of its classes.’33 Nijenhuis means something similar when he says: ‘The metropolis is not the place of identity, nuclear family, the social and welfare, but the non-place of movement and artificial time, which finds its expression in acceleration and absence. From the habitat we can understand the metropolis as an non-environment, where a non-community is gathered in the form of mass.’34 Other authors put more emphasis on the break that occurred in the early modern period. Whereas in the Middle Ages there was still an undifferentiated spatial freedom, from the seventeenth century on a functional differentiation would continue.35 An increasing breakdown is noticeable of different functions, as well as an increasing separation between public and private spheres in mansions, country houses and country estates. The authentic, ‘naïve’, ‘paradisiacal’, ‘genuine’, ‘primeval’-dwelling and the ‘dwelling as a gathering place of the unique human experience’ are sought in the time before – in the prehistoric times, in the stone age or in the archaic, original folk dwelling.36 In the early modern period, Andrea Palladio’s villas are given a special place in this ‘architectural-historical’ enumeration. His villas are regarded as the embodiment of real dwelling, the ahistorical ideal in which man could still design his home in an aesthetic, representative, sensual, ritualistic, ideal, harmonious, existential and conscious way before it was encapsulated by government and state. ‘In principle, dwelling shirks consciousness. One withdraws from the conscious 6 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 and active life, one rests and is passive or one is lived by an awareness of government and the construction market. Dwelling and knowing are at odds. In the history of conscious dwelling: “knowing how to dwell” began with the “grandezza”, the lord’s occupation of his house: the villa in which dwelling is consciously idealized. High bourgeois dwelling, which starts with the Palladian villa, turns into a science of dwelling, in which the government decides what is good for the individual and that is not his personal happiness, but that of society as a whole.’37 So, nowadays, man is drastically and dramatically separated from that early modern Palladian ideal. The terminology used by many authors confirms their idea of two separate periods of dwelling. Pre-modern life prior to the nineteenth century is stable and balanced, and harmony and contemplation, safety and warmth prevail.38 In the nineteenth century, dwelling becomes determined by ‘petty bourgeoisie’ and narrow-mindedness.39 Today’s lifestyles are driven by the unfulfillable desire of the nomadic man who constantly moves between metropolis and suburbs.40 The journey is seen as the ultimate metaphor of late twentieth-century dwelling.41 Only the farm (in terms of Heidegger) and the idealized farm life still seem to remind us of the seamless, symbiotic connection between architecture and dwelling.42 In this way, authors from various directions today view the early modern period as a dramatic turnaround. Either as a period in which the second-class position of women is perpetuated or as the period in which the dwelling paradise is lost forever. Many of the problems we are struggling with today are projected onto the past. The early modern house and bourgeois life in the Dutch seventeenth century turned out to play a crucial role in this. The question is how the historiography of the Dutch house came about. The question is also to what extent current insights from disciplines such as cultural history, architectural history, art and literary history force a nuance or adjustment of the prevailing views. The historiography of Dutch domesticity The choice for the study of the Dutch house in the seventeenth century is obvious in view of the attention paid to it in existing literature (bp.intro.5). Since Mario Praz (1964), who describes the sobriety of Dutch seventeenth-century interiors as ‘a sense of ease and warm bourgeois intimacy’, the house of the Dutch Golden Age has occupied a special place in the international cultural history of Western civilization.43 Authors such as Braudel, Colomp, Fock, Gramaccini, Reed, Schama, Schulze, Thornton, Zumthor and many others have written about it. Westermann recently published an overview of the historiography of the Dutch home and early modern domestic culture.44 Many emphasize the innovation that took place in the Dutch seventeenth century.45 Also in the circle of architects – I 7 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 am thinking of Betsky, Grafe, Hertzberger, De Jong, Reed, Riley, Rybczynski and more recently by the editors of the Jaarboek Architectuur in Nederland 2000-1 (Yearbook of Architecture in the Netherlands, 2000-1) – the mansion house (herenhuis) from the Republic is invariably regarded as an important benchmark in the ongoing development of home and dwelling. Cosiness (gezelligheid), homeliness, domesticity, informality, intimacy, equal manners, order, tranquility, cleanliness, serenity, functionality and sobriety – these are the terms with which these authors describe the early modern Dutch house.46 ‘To this day,’ wrote architecture critic and current director of the Rotterdam NAi Aaron Betksy in 1995, ‘one of the most highly valued qualities of life in Holland is gezelligheid (cosiness), a term that denotes the good cheer and warm feeling derived from gathering with friends or family in a cozy, well-outfitted domestic environment.’47 It is agreed that this kind of domesticity continued from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century. This history ended with ‘a crisis at the dawn of the twentieth century when the “distinctly unhomey” International Style aesthetic of what critics called the “cold storage warehouse cube” came to dominate the most prestigious ranks of architecture and design.’48 One may wonder whether this depiction of the seventeenth-century Dutch house and domesticity is not the product of a fairly recent historiographical imaging process. In the seventies and eighties of the twentieth century, for example, many studies appeared in which domesticity was described as a bourgeois phenomenon of the Ancien Régime, emphasizing the emotional component in particular. These were mainly studies on family history from a sociological, historical and women’s history perspective.49 In the decade that followed, these insights were perpetuated in multi-volume studies such as The History of Personal Life and the History of Women. One could describe this domesticity,’ Haks summarizes the state of affairs in 1982, ‘as the realization that the nuclear family formed an emotional unity that could provide more loyalty and personal comfort than the outside world with which one was in daily, but above all business contact.’50 However, only a detailed study of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries can answer such a question, as I argued earlier.51 After completion of my research, two publications were published about the benchmarks 1800. Blueprints for a society and 1900. Highness of bourgeois culture. The material presented there may offer an answer to the question of what impact this interim period had on the reception of the seventeenth-century Dutch house.52 For the duration of my own research, I wanted to avoid this period as much as possible. Only where the historical material allows it, I will speak about the nineteenth and twentieth century in several chapters. I would just like to mention a few points that suggest that this theme only came to the fore in the course of the nineteenth century. 8 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 The comprehensive concept of ‘seventeenth-century bourgeois domesticity’ seems to be a by-product of the tendency – within the nineteenth-century process of nation-building – to assign a more positive meaning to domestic and bourgeois life.53 The associated sentiments were then projected onto seventeenth-century material. Domesticity was reflected in mansion houses, moralist books and genre paintings from the Dutch Golden Age. In the course of the nineteenth century, for example, ‘the Dutch house’ regularly appeared in various texts. This applies to domestic poetry from the first half of the nineteenth century,54 as well as to later historiography, such as the famous work of G.D.J Schotel, Het oud-Hollandsch huisgezin in de zeventiende eeuw (1867, The old-Dutch domestic family the seventeenth century). It also applies to paintings by Jozef Israels (1824-1911), David Bles (1821-1899) and A. Neuhuys (1844-1914) that bear titles such as ‘The meagre meal’, ‘Interior’ or ‘Jhr. Mr. J.L. van den Berch van Heemstede returns to his family and his parents-in-law after a distant journey’ (bp.4.196.7-9).55 Remarkably, this nineteenth-century myth of Dutch domesticity later migrated.56 Possibly the ‘domesticity concept’ was exported to America, France, England, Germany and Denmark together with these paintings of binnenhuizen (interiors).57 This distribution has echoes in the work of internationally known authorities such as Praz, Schama and Rybzcynski and through them it appears in the work of locally operating authors. But the domesticity concept is also spreading in a more popular way. For example, through children’s songs (‘In Holland staat een Huis’), through embroidered samplers, cut silhouettes, New Year cards, children's picture books, children's clothing, Saint Nicholas celebrations and calendar plates. The work of Anton Pieck and Rie Kramer made a significant contribution to the imprinting of this motif.58 Shortly before and just after the Second World War there is a new boom in attention for the house. ‘Wij Hollanders zijn huiselijke mensen’ (We Dutch are domestic people), is how Van Regteren Altena began the exhibition In Holland staat een huis (1940).59 On all sorts of levels, people seem to be striving for innovation and to want to break with previous views. Numerous housekeeping manuals and treatises on home furnishings, manners and parenting guidelines reveal the innovative spirit of this period. Ik kan huishouden (I can housekeeping, 1957), Goed Wonen (Good Dwelling, 1946-1968) and Wij Bouwen (We Are Building, 1962) are typical of the efforts made in the post-war period.60 In Modern huishouden (Modern Housekeeping), for example, the author rejects the suffocating rooms, overcrowded with oversized furniture, advocates easy, new materials (steel, plastic furniture, furniture plate), practical wall furniture, adding color to the interior by painting walls.61 Amateur photos from this period proudly show the house people acquired.62 The sprout air, the moist Monday-washday windows, the Saturday night washtub-ritual, the Sunday afternoon goose board 9 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 playing family and the day-in-and-day-out toiling housewife that are so proverbial for the depressing coziness of the post-war years which authors have experienced themselves, are therefore at odds with the appreciation of post-war domestic life that is evident from the historical documents themselves.63 This image of Dutch domesticity as a ‘stifling and deterrent’ combination is thus probably of more recent date.64 It was not until the last quarter of the twentieth century that the domesticity concept came under heavy fire. The image first and foremost appeals to young people and women who have been emancipating since the 1960s.65 The snug, domestic cosines as a repugnant idea and the criticism of the ‘narrow-minded’, ‘petty’, ‘obedient’ bourgeoisie manifested itself from the 1960s onwards and was cultivated in the last quarter of the twentieth century.66 Meanwhile, a cultural-historical revision and even rehabilitation of the entire problem seems to be underway. The fate of dwelling, house and home, the nuclear family and housekeeping in modern times may rejoice in a renewed interest. Publications such as Leven op stand 1890-1940 (Living according to one’s position 1998), Wonen op stand (Dwelling according to one’s rank, 1999), Huis, tuin en keuken (House, garden and kitchen, 2000) and Terugblikken op het huiselijk leven in de twintigste eeuw (Looking back on domestic life in the twentieth century, 2000) point to this. When I go for volumes like De stijl van de burger. Over Nederlandse burgerlijke cultuur vanaf de middeleeuwen (The style of the burgher. On Dutch civic culture from the Middle Ages, 1998), or Beschaafde burgers. Burgerlijkheid in de vroegmoderne tijd (Civilized citizens. Citizenship in the early modern period, 2001) and the already mentioned volume 51 of the Nederlands kunsthistorisch Jaarboek (2001) that is entirely devoted to the domestic culture in the Netherlands 1500-1800, then that interest applies not only to the recent modernization but also to the long history of the house in the Netherlands.67 Thus, a renewed interest in ‘civic sense’ and in the ‘restoration of civic values’ can be noticed.68 The house in the Dutch early modern sources Images of the seventeenth-century Dutch house often go back to three types of sources. Firstly, the mansion houses that were built in cities such as Amsterdam, Utrecht, Leiden and Haarlem. Secondly, the so-called genre paintings, painted by artists like Emanuel de Witte, Pieter de Hooch, Gabriël Metsu, Nicolaes Maes and Johannes Vermeer, with the paintings of Jan Steen as a counterpart. And thirdly, moralistic literature, for instance the marriage advice book by Jacob Cats. Because authors cross-reference those architectural, visual and literary sources, the image of the seventeenth-century house as an inexorable historical fact is supported and legitimized. Its rise is then linked to the flourishing commercial 10 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 economy, which increased the wealth of its citizens and enabled them to affirm their new status in the ever-growing cities by building their own houses.69 Consequently, a private life would develop, focused on affections, emotions and feelings.70 Separated from the outside world, the wife takes care of the household and the child and upbringing becomes more central. ‘This is precisely what happened in the Netherlands, where the family centered itself on the child and family life centered itself on the home, only in the Dutch home it occurred about a hundred years earlier than elsewhere.’71 Against this background, a choice of sources from the registers of architecture, moralistic literature and painting is obvious. In contrast to what is common practice, I don’t want to study them from the point of view of the social coherence in which they are almost always taken for granted. As a consequence, I will, for the time being, push the socio-political context into the background. My first concern is the research of the three sources in their own domain. To this end I investigate the codes and conventions that were used in the seventeenth century to think about the house in terms of an architectural structure (Stevin, bouwwerk als geordend geheel), marriage as a domestic corporation (Cats, huiselijk bedrijf) and the painted chamber scape (De Hooch, kamergezicht).72 As far as architecture is concerned, I did not focus on the architectural historical development of the house. Until 1969, when Het Nederlandse woonhuis 1300-1800 (The Dutch dwelling house) was published, there was hardly any historical research into the house as a specific type of building. Meischke expressed his amazement at ‘the little attention old houses received’.73 In his opinion, the fact that ‘research of historical houses was so little practiced in our country’ was due to the fact that, at that time, people already had ‘a detailed idea of the 17th-century interior’. This idea was based on the many genre paintings from that time.74 However, the situation has changed since Meischke’s publication in 1969. A great deal of historical research has been carried out into the architectural, technical and regional developments of the Dutch house since the Middle Ages.75 Still, I do take a different approach. In order to gain insight into the conceptual ideas concerning the seventeenth-century house in Holland, I concentrate on the 128-page architectural treatise, Onderscheyt vande oirdeningh der Steden and Byvough der stedenoirdening, van de oirdening der deelen eens hvis Met 't gheene daer ancleeft (on the order of towns, with an appendix on the order of the parts of the house) by the Flemish engineer Simon Stevin (1548-1620), who has lived in Holland since 1581. This text was published posthumously by his son Hendrik in Materiae Politicae (Leiden, 1649). What’s important, is that Stevin, who enjoys a great reputation as an engineer, mathematician and scientist, explicitly relates in this writing to authors from the tradition of the art of building, such as Vitruvius, 11 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Leon Battista Alberti, Andrea Palladio and Sebastiano Serlio. His text contains many drawings of which the significance in the treatise as a whole was unclear for a long time. Secondly, I choose as a source Het Houwelick, the poetic treatise on marriage written by Grand Pensionary Jacob Cats (1577-1660). Of this voluminous text (189 pages, two columns) people so often quoted only a single phrase (and then often the same one), that I decided to examine the text as a whole (with the prints of Adriaen van de Venne included in it). Cats’ work also appears to have many ties to tradition. Not only does it touch upon views on commonwealth government and land reclamation (inpoldering), religion and medicine, but it is also embedded in literary, poetic and rhetorical traditions. Moreover – and this makes his work for this research even more interesting – Cats interferes in an early modern European debate on the art of well living (ars bene vivendi), in which various authors such as (again) Leon Battista Alberti, William Perkins, Le Ménagier de Paris and Fray Luis de León take part. The third source is the corpus of Pieter de Hooch (1629-1684), which consists of a large number of so-called genre paintings. Contrary to what is usual, I will not interpret his work from a social context or from contemporary literature (such as the work of Jacob Cats). Instead, I will consider the art of painting as the most appropriate context. To investigate this conceptual context, I studied the writings of the painter Samuel van Hoogstraten (1627-1678), Inleyding tot de Hooge Schoole der Schilderkonst: Anders de Zichtbaere Werelt (Introduction to the High School of Painting: or the Discernible World, 1678). The rules of painting formulated in it make it possible to analyze De Hooch’s chamber scapes. The exhibition that Peter C. Sutton organized in London in 1998, in which forty of De Hooch’s paintings were brought together for the first time, was a happy coincidence. At the same time, the rules of painting formulated by Van Hoogstraten shed a different light on the place De Hooch (and Van Hoogstraten) occupies in the tradition, with authors like (for the third time) Leon Battista Alberti, Leonardo Da Vinci and in the Netherlands the writings of Carel van Mander and Philips Angel. Type of historiography The choice of method is often determined by the research tradition in which one works or by the research programme to which one belongs. But in the present case, in which three dissimilar ‘objects’ are examined, the choice of method does not speak for itself. The question of how one can nevertheless compare the three sources with their own obstinacies – in other words, what comparative methodology can be formulated as the basis of a comparative art research – should therefore precede the second question, namely how the three authors 12 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 mentioned reflect in their work on the house. I would like to explain that as follows. Historical research consists of two major genres. On the one hand, the specialist research that takes place within a clearly defined scientific compartment. To support the research, knowledge is often derived from other disciplines. In specialized studies of a painter’s oeuvre or theme in the Golden Age, one regularly finds references to findings generated in the literary history or the architectural-historical field. Likewise, literary studies often contain references to research results in the field of art history. One trusts that results from adjacent specialisms are simply compatible with findings in one’s own field (or one chooses only those results that are compatible). On the other hand, there is the genre of the great synthesizing gesture. This is rarely based on primary research of sources but on the selection and arrangement of already available knowledge according to a certain idea. The current practice of the historical research consists for the most part of many specialists who add their detailed research results to the big picture in as many disciplines. The few – such as Huizinga, but also Price and, more recently, Schama – who turn the collected historical facts into a new historicalvision, remain an exception and are viewed with the necessary suspicion by specialists. Although specialist criticism is often justified, the fact remains that every respectable historian must relate to Schama’s conception of the Dutch in the Golden Age. Personally, I think that in historical research one always uses a global idea, within which the specialist research questions can then develop. Conversely, specialist discoveries will, with a certain regularity, force global visions to be adjusted on certain points. This usual division of tasks between specialists and generalists gives the historic research its dynamism. Nevertheless, I wanted to circumvent this genre division in my research. On the one hand, I didn’t want to suffice with a few specialist questions. Because that would imply that the individual chapters would be placed one after the other without any interrelationship. On the other hand, I do not pretend to give a global interpretation by rearranging existing detail studies on the basis of a preconceived central idea. Instead, I venture into three disciplines at the same time, but each time focusing on the detailed analysis of a primary source. I had two reasons for this. First of all, I wanted to respect the current rules and the analytical conceptual apparatus of each discipline. Studying a historical poem is after all something else than examining an architectural drawing or a painted tableau. Secondly, in all cases I wanted to investigate the source material in its own context. The different types of historical material deserve to be studied according to the codes and conventions of their own tradition and domain. Only then can the question be asked what their contribution is to the rules of thought concerning the Dutch 13 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 house. In fact, this research is built on three studies carried out in parallel. So, my purpose is not to prove by a comparison between the early modern arts that ‘the Dutch house’ is present in buildings as well as in poems and paintings in this period. That is why I also temporarily put social history as a self-evident frame of interpretation between brackets. In my view, the relations between the ‘hard’ historical (socio-economic, political and religious) processes and the development of the ways in which people think about building, painting and well living have to be investigated and are not fixed. The aim of my research is not a specialist, nor a synthesizing study in the sense I just described. My objective is on the epistemological level as Michel Foucault once called it. What I want to investigate is the multilayeredness of ‘the Dutch house’ as a historical concept. With the cultural-historical research of the arts, I will primarily focus on what is referred to in the title as the ‘rules of thought’. In doing so, I aim for something other than the old-fashioned history of ideas, in the sense of the history of philosophical ideas or a philosophy of the sciences.76 Nor am I striving for a hermeneutical approach that attempts to interpret and establish the ‘essential’ meaning (of the architectural drawing, painting, poem or house respectively) in the past. What interests me most about culture are the rules that underlie the thoughts one formulates, the ideas one generates and the conceptual framework within which one operates as a matter of course. In other words, my question focuses on the culture-specific rules of thought and speech that – as self-evident issues – are overlooked by contemporaries. An analysis on this epistemological (‘archeological’) intermediate level offers – I do hope to show – insights that can also be used in both other research genres. Its added value lies in the fact that the coherence and effectiveness of a culture cannot be conceived from an idea that manifests itself in various cultural products. The functioning of thought turns out to be much more local. Bound to its own traditions, with its own rules, its own pace of circulation and transformation, thought flourishes and makes at the same time certain thinking impossible. It is necessary to analyze this historical conceptual universe because thinking in the early modern era meets other boundaries than the conceptual universe in which we are think today. Question That makes the question of my book a double one. On the one hand I wonder what people in the Dutch seventeenth century thought about the house and related phenomena. On the other hand, there is the question of how we can trace the rules of thought on the basis of the house in the early modern age. The first relates to the question of how one analyses visual and textual sources on their utterances 14 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 about the house. The second touches on the comparative method with which I want to put the rules of thought in the foreground in various sources. The historical sources that speak out about the house are concrete and need concrete analysis. But this analysis (What is thought about the house?) is always informed by the methodological principles used (How do the sources provide insight into thinking? How does thinking function at the level of culture, what is regarded as knowledge and how does a discourse take shape?). This means that the answer to the second, theoretical, question precedes the answer to the first, more concrete question about the special conceptual configuration of ‘the house’ in the Dutch seventeenth century. Both questions – although belonging to different theoretical levels – cannot be strictly isolated in the analysis of the material. Both levels come together in what is called a ‘descriptive analysis’. This distinguishes itself both from a description of the material (without theoretical insights) and from a theoretical description (without knowledge of the material).77 The three core chapters – chapters 2, 3 and 4 – are the result of an analysis that is always guided by an epistemological question (about the order of thought). This analysis is never done in abstracto, but on the basis of the multitude of historical material that presents itself in all its stubbornness. The descriptive analysis thus always finds its beginnings and endings in the historically specific image and text material that is examined in extenso. My questioning and working method lead me to pay a lot of attention to the sources themselves. So, in the analysis I will dwell in detail on various artifacts such as paintings, architectural drawings and engravings, but also on the way in which the art of painting, the art of building and the art of well living are written in detail in the texts. Such a focus on the concrete and the trivial in material objects, in utterances and in tableaus is in keeping with current cultural history, in which one prefers to study culture in a broad sense: on the basis of the material (discursive and visual) phenomena themselves and with an open eye for the smallest details. At the same time, my approach also differs from that of cultural history, namely where it considers the anthropological concept of culture to be absolutely applicable to European history. In Western cultural history, works of art and discourses about them – in contrast to many cultures that are studied by anthropologists – have started to form their own conceptual compartments. Although these compartments are part of a more comprehensive culture, they have developed their own vocabulary, produced their own products, followed their own pathways and often showed their own pace. To mark the difference between the common (social scientific) cultural history on the one hand and the common (a-historical) ‘art’ histories on the other hand, I refer to my own way of working and methodology, as historical formalism.78 In 15 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 doing so, I rely primarily on authors who combine an interest in cultural theory in the rules of thought with an analysis of concrete material such as Michel Foucault, Claude Lévi-Strauss, Vladimir Propp, Wendy Doniger, Eric de Kuyper, Emile Poppe, Svetlana Alpers, Roland Barthes and Bill Nichols. Despite the fact that they have worked in various disciplines, the authors possess a related intellectual habitus. I consider these fruitful for a cultural-historical study of the arts.79 I want to use terms like migration and transmission, transformation and appropriation to identify similarities and differences between historical sources in terms of their formal coherence and in terms of the conceptual context in which they manifest themselves.80 That also means a break with everyday thinking. Although on an everyday level it often seems obvious what an artefact or treatise is – namely a visible thing or a tangible object – one must first construct the theoretical object of research. In a cultural-historical morphology, several levels of analysis are thus distinguished, with the aim of clarifying their internal interplay and historical dynamics.81 Objectives The present study has several objectives. First of all, I want to contribute to the development of a historical methodology for the analysis of cultural products. Therefore, I combine a formal comparative and a historical approach. The crossborder traffic between cultural history and other disciplinary domains, also advocated by others, could thus be fruitful in both directions.82 On the one hand, the historical-theoretical insights of current cultural history could benefit art history, a discipline that unfortunately still focuses mainly on the chronological study of individual artists and unique works of art in terms of influence and meaning. On the other hand, art history could teach cultural history that the research of the visual culture should not be limited to communication, the social exchange between individuals or appropriation of artefacts. As is often the case in science, the plea for such mutual fertilization is not entirely new. At the end of my research I will indicate that such an approach from Aby Warburg to Svetlana Alpers has always been present as an undercurrent in art history.83 Authors such as Erwin Panofsky and Ernst Gombrich, as well as Dutch art historians such as Henri van de Waal and Jan Emmens, have carried that body of thought (in their own adaptations) through time. However, this constant current only became visible later on, given the intersection of roads on which I myself gradually ended up. The present study is an attempt to further develop this form of historiography. And that brings me, secondly, to a more general objective of my research. To delve into the specific rationality of a historical thought system is not a noncommittal or purely academic finger exercise. This also questions the 16 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 rationality of one’s own thinking and the legitimacy of certain views. For example, it helps to relativize many contemporary visions and expectations that are projected onto the past without hesitation. This dialectic experience of historical research – in which past and present interact without their differences disappearing – has always appealed to me. This not only makes the dynamics of historical forms of thought more transparent, but it also makes it possible to examine current and engaged thinking. Involuntarily but inevitably, my study as a byproduct provides a certain genealogical overview of the development that has taken place in (part of) the academic landscape over the past decades. For a serious interdisciplinary cooperation on cultural phenomena, such an insight into the fate of the various disciplines and their tempi is indispensable. In this way, my research ultimately also aims to be a defense of a rigorous scientific approach in which cultural-historical phenomena are investigated in a meticulous and comprehensible way, so that the knowledge various disciplines generate is compatible and therefore interchangeable. Structure of the book Chapter 1 consists of two parts. The first part sketches a concise portrait of the three main characters of this book based on existing historiography. Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch represent the common ingredients of the developing Republic: modern-technical and pragmatically rational, civilized and prosperous, spatially clear and visibly intimate. The portraits also include the most important biographical data. They provide the anchor points in time, place and culture necessary for any historical study. Following on from that, I’ll deal with the source criticism: the second part deals with the methodology of a culturalhistorical study of the arts. In the next three chapters – 2, 3 and 4 – I will use distracting terms or academic terminology as little as possible. My analysis is invested in the presentation of the research object. This is where the already mentioned ‘descriptive analysis’ has to do its work.84 To this end, a distinction should be made between levels of analysis where relevant data are ordered by level. The result is a kind of demonstrative morphology: an attempt to do justice to the forms that impose themselves in the analysis. Only where necessary will I set beacons, forward or backward, to anticipate the whole. In order not to obstruct the line of argument too much, I will only include a few historical quotes in the text. In the notes I refer to the source where the fragment can be found. The discussion with the secondary literature is mentioned in the main text where it directly touches on my argument. In view of the various areas of this research, it was not only an impossible task to process all the publications and mention all the relevant facts from them; I also consider such an endeavor to be of 17 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 little use. In this respect, the bibliography is a relevant cross-section of both the theoretical literature that formed my thinking and the secondary historical publications on which I have concentrated in the analysis. The bibliography is less a presentation of everything I actually used in this study. My goal was first and foremost to gain insight into the way in which within disciplines some facts are selected, and others not selected and fitted into certain explanatory models. By entering several disciplines at the same time, it was impossible to let one interpretation scheme prevail; in fact, this made it necessary to distinguish and compare these disciplines on the basis of their assumptions. I therefore agree with Christine Smith’s conclusion ‘that it was better to treat selected problems in some depth rather than provide a general view’.85 Where secondary literature breaks through the line of argument too much, I will refer to the relevant issues in a footnote. The classification of the book is systematic to the extent that for each chapter one particular domain is dealt with. Each of the three chapters is structured in the same way. Chapter two deals with the work of Simon Stevin, chapter three crosses that of Jacob Cats and the fourth chapter concentrates on the work of Pieter de Hooch. In this fourth chapter I will also regularly appeal to the writing about the art of painting by Samuel van Hoogstraten. Each of these chapters is divided into two parts. The first part consists of four paragraphs, each analyzing and describing a specific layer of the corpus concerned. The analytical description of the stratification has some advantages. First of all, it becomes clear that an argument (thinking about building, about marriage and about painting) cannot be reduced to a single underlying homogeneous idea. Authors deal with various issues that sometimes dominate, sometimes are barely audible, sometimes lead to a new polyphony. By following some of those voices separately in a text, it is possible to describe the harmony that is the result (and which one experiences directly when reading, without noticing the individual voices). Moreover, in this way a text can be compared fairly precisely with ‘similar’ texts. Similarities and differences have become apparent. On the other hand, an analytical description is also always limited: I only selected a number of layers namely those that I think were most important in the work in question. This does not mean that there are no other layers to be discerned – the more detailed one looks at a discourse, the more nuances one will discover. Moreover, it will be clear that when selecting the number of layers, I also considered the composition of the final result: each chapter now consists of roughly the same number of layers. With Stevin I distinguish successively between the properties of substances (2.1.1.), the study of purity in the house (2.1.2.), the classification of dead and living beings according to their place in the natural order (2.1.3.) and the 18 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 characteristics of Stevin’s architectural drawing (2.1.4.). The chapter on Cats deals with the household goods and related acts (3.1.1.), the tableau of characters who perform (on the basis of their properties given by Nature) in the Houwelick (3.1.2.), the movements of the mind (3.1.3.) and finally the spiritual universe that locates Cats in the house (3.1.4.). The fourth chapter focuses on De Hooch’s paintings and contemporary thinking about the art of painting by Van Hoogstraten. A distinction is made between the distribution of the flat surface (4.1.1.), the effect of light and dark in the composition (4.1.2.), the disintegration and re-mixing of colors according to their natural properties (4.1.3.) and the bodies emerging from the painted relief (4.1.4.). Each chapter also has a second part. This still involves the work of Stevin, Cats and De Hooch, but now in a different light. The focus is on a different plan, wider and more from above. On the one hand, the question arises as to how the different levels (from the first part of the chapter) relate to each other in each work. What are the internal relationships that connect them and how can their cohesion be named? On the other hand, I indicate the field of knowledge, i.e. the intellectual context or the conceptual tradition in which the work can be placed. This contextual circle is broader, more European and more a bird’s-eye view. Nevertheless, the primary source material continues to play an important role in this second part. This implies that by means of a comparative analysis the own, specific historical embedding of the three sources can be evoked. However, the consequences of this approach are different in each of the three chapters. For Stevin this means a treatment of his views on the order of the columns, symmetry and beauty in comparison to other writings on the art of building (2.2.1.), his house drawing placed in the tradition (2.2.2.) and his view on the art of building as a science. This provides insight into the structure of his architectural knowledge system, while also giving rise to a review of his status as a scientist. After all, Stevin operates in a field where magic and natural sciences coexist (2.2.3). Cats’ views on marriage can be understood as a matter of public honor (3.2.1.), views that can be compared to other European writings on the art of living (3.2.2.); the structure of the Houwelick turn out to be based on poetic rules (3.2.3.). This shows that Cats’ thinking is part of a larger field in European history in which religious boundaries are not necessarily decisive. For De Hooch, this means a treatment of ‘genre’ and ‘history’ painting in the context of arttheoretical tradition (4.2.1.), a speculative genealogy of the ‘chamber scape’ (kamergezicht) from the late Middle Ages onwards (4.2.2.), a treatment of the luring power of images and the image as a place of true knowledge (4.2.3.). This shows that De Hooch’s work and Van Hoogstraten’s thinking about the art of painting are much more strongly part of a European development in the early 19 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 modern period than has been suggested so far. I conclude with an analysis of the transformation of the art of painting to thinking and theorizing about Art (4.2.4). In a number of preliminary studies published in recent years, I have mainly highlighted certain connections between the three domains of architecture, literature and painting. These connections always had to do with boundary phenomena in or around the house. In a series of articles, I have drawn attention to the importance Stevin, Cats and De Hooch attached to articulating the boundaries between home, town and countryside. In contrast to the usual social interpretation, I have associated this with the classification of characters (drawing strict conceptual divisions between man/woman, old/young et cetera), with the transition between nature and culture (on the basis of the transformation of food and the role of the kitchen) and with the natural philosophical foundation of early modern culture.86 I will return to these publications where appropriate, but I have decided not to edit them for this book. Instead, I’ve wanted to complete this investigation in two ways. That is why Chapter 5 – like the first chapter – is somewhat separate from the three core chapters. Just as I outline the principles and contours of my research at the start of this book, I will look back in the final chapter and putting my findings together in a structured way. First of all, I made an attempt to raise the knowledge gathered in the three central chapters to a somewhat higher level: is there a conceptual coherence between the three areas dealt with, and if so, what does this mean for early modern Dutch culture in the European context? This first part is successively built up in four sections. In section 5.1.1. I will examine the fundamental basis of the study of Nature, in section 5.1.2. the status assigned to visual knowledge, and in section 5.1.3. how the burgher benefits from this natural philosophical knowledge of which Aristotle’s thinking turns out to be the foundation in Europe. The reconsideration of Van Hoogstraten’s well-known painting Doorkijkje vanaf de drempel (View of a Corridor) in terms of early modern thought about building, painting and well living provides an appropriate opportunity to present the coherence of my findings.87 The second part of chapter 5 is – like this first more theoretical part of chapter 1 – somewhat separate from the middle part. There I take up the methodological thread again in order to also account theoretically for the results obtained. I want to do this by looking at my plea for a cultural-historical study of the arts (my methodology of historical formalism) in the light of the genealogy that arthistorical concepts experienced in the twentieth century. With hindsight it then turns out to be possible to point out the kinship between my approach and earlier art-historical positions. The work of renowned art historians such as Aby Warburg (5.2.1.), Erwin Panofsky, Rudolf Wittkower and Ernst H. Gombrich (5.2.2.), but 20 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 also that of Dutch art historians such as Henri van de Waal and Jan A. Emmens (5.2.3.), can thus be placed successively. These authors have previously spoken about a cultural history in the field of the arts. For all kinds of reasons, the more theoretical layer in twentieth-century art history has remained an undercurrent. Particularly in the period after the Second World War, art historical thinking about the early modern period was dominated by a reduced and popularized view in which Plato’s ideas about the visual arts turned out to be an important element (5.2.4.). 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Ostfildern-Ruit 1998, pp. 1729. Kloek, E., ‘De Reformatie als thema van vrouwengeschiedenis. Een historisch debat over goed en kwaad’, in: Jaarboek voor Vrouwengeschiedenis (1983), 4, pp. 106-149. Kloek, E., Gezinshistorici over vrouwen; een overzicht van het werk van gezinshistorici en de betekenis daarvan voor de vrouwengeschiedenis. Amsterdam 1989. Kloek, E., ‘Vrouwengeschiedenis, feminisme en de vroegmoderne tijd: een inleiding op drie Leidse studies’, in: E. Kloek, Wie hij zij, man of wijf. Vrouwengeschiedenis en de vroegmoderne tijd. Hilversum 1990, pp. 9-47. Kloek, E., ‘“Een nieuw studieveld”. Vrouwengeschiedenis, interdisciplinariteit en de Nederlandse zeventiende eeuw’, in: De zeventiende eeuw, 14 (1998), 2, pp. 218-230. Kloek, J. & W. Mijnhardt, 1800. Blauwdrukken voor een samenleving. Den Haag 2001. Kooy, G.A. (ed.), Gezinsgeschiedenis. Vier eeuwen gezin in Nederland. 1985. Krol, E.J., De smaak der natie. 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Amsterdam 1991. Osler, M.J., ‘Mixing metaphors: science and religion or natural philosophy and theology in early modern Europe’, in: History of Science, 36 (1998), 111, pp. 91-113. Overdijk, K. & J. Loeffen, De Zij-kant van bouwen. Eindhoven 1985. Overdijk, K. & J. Loeffen, Bouwen vanuit haar perspectief. Eindhoven 1985. Ozment, S., When fathers Ruled. Family Life in Reformation Europe. Cambridge Mass./ London 1983. Peeters, H., L. Dresen-Coenders & T. Brandenbarg (ed.), Vijf eeuwen gezinsleven: liefde, huwelijk en opvoeding in Nederland. Nijmegen 1988. Pleij, H., De wereld volgens Thomas van der Noot. Muiderberg 1982. Poldervaart, S., Vrouwenstudies. Een inleiding. Nijmegen 1983. Poppe, E., ‘Structuralistische filmsemiotiek’, in: P. Bosma (ed.), Filmkunde. Een inleiding. Nijmegen/ Heerlen 1991, pp. 241-252. Poppe, E., ‘De enunciatie in de film, een nieuwe filmsemiotiek’, in: Versus (1992), 3, pp. 94-110. Porter, R., ‘History of the Body’, in: P. Burke, New Perspectives on Historical Writing. Cambridge 1991A, pp. 206-232. Porter, R. (ed.), Rewriting the self: histories from the renaissance to the present. London 1997. Praz, M., An illustrated History of Interior Decoration from Pompeii to Art Nouveau. London 1994 (1964). 24 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Reed, C. (ed.), Not at Home: The Suppression of Domesticity in Modern Art and Architecture. London 1996. Reijndorp, A., Buitenwijk. Stedelijkheid op afstand. Rotterdam 1998. Riley, T., The Un-Private House. New York 1999. Rybczynski, W., Home. A short history of an idea. New York 1986. Santing, C., ‘“Trompe-l’oeil”. Kunst als bron voor historische verbeelding’, in: Groniek. Kunst voor historici. Beeldende kunst als historische bron, 28 (1995), 128, pp. 248-264. Sarels van Rijn, Ik kan huishouden. Leiden 1957. Schama, S., Overvloed en onbehagen. De Nederlandse cultuur in de Gouden Eeuw. Amsterdam 1988. Schoonjans, Y., ‘Au bonheur des dames. Vrouw, smaak en het burgerlijk interieur in de negentiende eeuw’, in: Tijdschrift voor vrouwenstudies (1997), 2, pp. 136-152. Schulze, S. (ed.), ‘Innenleben. Die Kunst des Interieurs’, in: S. Schulze, Innenleben. Die Kunst des Interieurs. Vermeer bis Kabakov. Ostfildern-Ruit 1998, pp. 9-15. Schuurman, A.J., Materiële cultuur en levensstijl. Een onderzoek naar de taal der dingen op het Nederlandse platteland in de 19e eeuw: de Zaanstreek, oost-Groningen, oost-Brabant. Wageningen 1989. Schuurman, A. & P. Spierenburg (ed.), Private Domain, Public Inquiry. Families and Life-styles in the Netherlands and Europe, 1550 to the Present. Hilversum 1996. Schuyt, K. & E. Taverne, 1950. Welvaart in zwart-wit. Den Haag 2000. Sennett, R., The conscience of the eye. The design and social life of cities. New York 1991. Smith, C., Architecture in the Culture of Early Humanism: Ethics, Aesthetics and Eloquence 14001470. Oxford 1992. Spickernagel, E., ‘Die Macht des Innenraums. Zum Verhältnis von Frauenrolle und Wohnkultur in der Biedermeierzeit’, in: Kritische Berichte (1985), 3, pp. 5-15. Spickernagel, E., ‘Wohnkultur und Frauenrolle im Biedermeier’, in: M. Wilke e.a. (ed.), The Wise Woman Buildeth her House. Architecture, History and Women’s Studies. Groningen 1992B, pp. 26-31. Stenvert, R., Constructing the Past: Computer-Assisted Architectural-Historical Research. The application of image-processing using the computer and Computer-Aided Design for the study of the urban environment, illustrated by the use of treatises in seventeenth-century architecture. Utrecht 1991. Stone, L., The family, sex and marriage in England 1500-1800. Harmondsworth 1979. Stuurman, S., ‘Duizend jaar staatsvorming in Europa’, in: S. Stuurman, Staatsvorming en politieke theorie. Amsterdam 1995A, pp. 13-166. Stuurman, S., ‘Vergeten worden in Europa: François Poulain de la Barre en Antoinette de Salvan de Saliez’, in: S. Stuurman, Staatsvorming en politieke theorie. Amsterdam 1995B, pp. 216-266. Sutton, P.C., Pieter de Hooch, 1629-1684. New Haven/ London 1998. Tilly, C., Europese revoluties, 1492-1992. Amsterdam 1993. Turkle, S., ‘Who Am We?’, www.turkle.1997. Turkle, S, ‘What Are We Thinking About When We Are Thinking About Computers?’ (http:/web.mit.edu/sturkle/www/routledge_reader.html) in: M. Biagioli (ed.), The Science Studies Reader. New York 1999. Van Berkel, K., ‘De geleerde’, in: H.M. Beliën (ed.), Gestalten van de Gouden Eeuw. Een Hollands groepsportret. Amsterdam 1995, pp. 185-217. Van Dooren, J., ‘‘t Huis’, in: H. Cornelissen, Denk-beelden van het wonen. Delft 1996, pp. 17-33. Van Gigch, F.H. et al., Computer Program for Housing: Programmeermethode. Delft 1979. Van Lenning, A., M. Brouns & J. de Bruijn (ed.), Inzichten uit vrouwenstudies: uitdagingen voor beleidsmakers. Den Haag 1995. Van Moorsel, W., Contact en controle. Het vrouwbeeld van de stichting Goed Wonen. Amsterdam 1992. Van Regteren Altena, J.Q. et al., In Holland staat een huis. Z.p.1940/41. 25 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Van Zeijl, G., ‘De architectuur van het wonen: een geschiedenis’, in: H. Cornelissen, Denkbeelden van het wonen. Delft 1996, pp. 105-137. Veldman, I.M., ‘Images of Labor and Diligence in Sixteenth-Century Netherlandish Prints: the Work Ethic Rooted in Civic Morality or Protestantism?’, in: Simiolus, 21 (1992), pp. 227264. Vermeulen, F.A.J., Handboek tot de Geschiedenis der Nederlandsche Bouwkunst. III. ‘sGravenhage 1941. Vos, J., ‘Historische antropologie: een plaatsbepaling’, in: Tijdschrift voor sociale geschiedenis, 20 (1994), 1, pp. 77-98. Wallis de Vries, G., ‘Heimelijke fascinaties’, in: H. Cornelissen, Denkbeelden van het wonen. Delft 1996, pp. 43-63. Werche, B., ‘Pieter de Hooch. Unterricht im Laufen’, in: S. Schulze (ed.), Innenleben. Die Kunst des Interieurs. Vermeer bis Kabakov. Ostfildern-Ruit 1998, p. 36. Westermann, M., ‘Wooncultuur in the Netherlands. A historiography in progress’, in: J. de Jong e.a. (ed.), Wooncultuur in de Nederlanden 1500-1800. The Art of Home in the Netherlands 1500-1800. Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek. 51. Zwolle 2001, pp. 7-33. Wieringa, F., S. Leydesdorff & J. Outshoorn, ‘Huis uit, huis in. Een schets van de positie van vrouwen in Nederland sedert het begin van de moderne tijd’, in: K. Bertels, Vrouw man kind. Lijnen van vroeger naar nu. Baarn 1978, pp. 89-110. Wigley, M., ‘Untitled: The Housing of Gender’, in: B. Colomina, Sexuality and Space. Princeton 1992, pp. 326-389. Wilke, M., ‘Kennis en kunde. Handboeken voor huisvrouwen’, in: R. Oldenziel & C. Bouw (ed.), Schoon genoeg. Huisvrouwen en huishoudtechnologie in Nederland 1898-1998. Nijmegen 1998, pp. 59-90. Wilterdink, N., ‘Norbert Elias en onze beschaving’, in: B. Kruithof e.a. (ed.), Geschiedenis van opvoeding en onderwijs. Inleiding, bronnen, onderzoek. Nijmegen 1982, pp. 13-22. Zantkuijl, H.J., Bouwen in Amsterdam. Het woonhuis in de stad. Amsterdam 1993. 26 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Notes 1. Nas 1991; Cieraad 2000C; Reed 1996. 2. Riley 1999, p. 9; Hoogewoning 2001, pp. 5-6; Sennett 1991, pp. 19-31. 3. De Lange 2000, p. 158. In many cultural-historical studies, Elias is simply taken as a benchmark in order to be able to place one’s own findings. A selection from the literature: Pleij 1982, p. 10; Wilterdink 1982; De Jongh 1986; Veldman 1992; Gelderblom & Hendrix 1999, pp. 2-3. 4. Elias 1990, pp. 280-281. 5. Porter 1997, p. 8. 6. For a literature review see Porter 1997 and 1991A. Foucault’s three-part History of Sexuality is also included in this newly opened field of research of the Self (although his question has been stripped of any psychologizing connotation. I will return to this epistemological discrepancy below). 7. Vos 1994, p. 81; Blok 1977, p. 125. The change is referred to in terms such as ‘intimizing’, ‘privatizing’, ‘gradually separating from social traffic’, ‘closed private domains’, ‘demarcation’, ‘separation’, ‘fenced off’, ‘restricted’, ‘privatized and intimate sectors’, with the inevitable result, on the one hand, of ‘intimate areas that had to remain hidden’ and, on the other hand, of ‘public areas that were allowed to be immediately visible’. 8. Elias 1990, pp. 280-281. 9. Sennett 1991, p. 26; Olsen 1991, pp. 137-139. 10. Sennett 1991, p. xii. The notation bp. refers to the separately recorded beeldpagina (image pages) and consists by default of the number of the relevant chapter (only referred to as ‘intro’ in the introduction) followed by the number of the image page; the third digit refers to a specific image on the image page. 11. Poldervaart 1983, p. 115. 12. George 1973 traces the transition for England on the basis of two writings by female authors. The first dates from 1640, the second from 1700. Leydesdorff 1975, pp. 711-714. 13. Leydesdorff 1975, p. 705. 14. Buikema et al. 1993, pp. 32-35; Brouns et al. 1995, pp. 41-44. 15. Recent themes in the Tijdschrift voor genderstudies are ‘Identity and race, equality and difference’ (1/1999); ‘The success of difference’ (2/1999); ‘The manipulated body’ (1/1998) and ‘Body and power’ (1/2001). 16. Heynen et al. 1997, p. 100. 17. Bervoets 1998, p. 24. 18. Colomina 1992 mentions Freud, Irigaray, Metz and Mulvey. Wigley 1992 (pp. 381-389) mentions besides Leon Batista Alberti also Freud and Lacan. 19. Van Lenning et al. 1995. 20. Heynen et al. 1997, pp. 104-105. Furthermore, terms such as ‘gender perspective’, ‘role confirming view of dwelling’, ‘critical reflections from the women's movement’, ‘limited visibility of female architects’, ‘relatively few female staff members’, ‘given their marginality they are well placed to develop a critical architectural practice’, ‘feminist art theory’, ‘inscriptions in the female’, ‘predominantly patriarchally defined categories of art history’, ‘socalled gender-neutral approaches to art or architecture’, ‘disentangling from patriarchal codes’, ‘feminist architectural theory’, ‘different body experiences’, ‘different perception of space’, ‘much more complex body experiences’, ‘experiences of pregnancy and birth’, ‘a disposition that men do not know’, ‘sensing space’, ‘different design posture’, ‘a specific female form language’, ‘old, matriarchal cultures’, ‘specifically feminine approaches to reality’, ‘the role of gender in architecture’, ‘architecture as a world dominated by male values’, ‘construction of gender’, ‘the cultural apparatus that establishes and maintains gender differentiations’, vii Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 ‘feminist problem definition’, ‘the need for domestication of female sexuality’, ‘the patriarchal society’, ‘the house as materialization of the continuity of the masculine line’, ‘the tacit commitment of the architecture of the house’, ‘gender identities’, ‘architectural gender codes’, ‘masculine and feminine spaces’, ‘cultural notions of femininity and masculinity are also transmitted through architecture’, ‘reflecting dominant the nuclear family model’, ‘architecture regulates intimacy and control, production and consumption’, ‘gender identities are (re)produced by it’, ‘producing and reproducing sexuality’, ‘hierarchies in discourse that establish and secure men’s dominance over women’, ‘sex determination’, ‘gender-colored’, ‘the cultural construction of sexuality’, ‘to normalize gender-specific (read male) cultural practices’, ‘to deconstruct the masculine myth of modernism’, ‘the cultural determination of the notions of masculinity and femininity’, ‘the separation of the sexes’, ‘the complicity (...) of architecture in exercising patriarchal authority’, ‘gender perspective’, ‘the cultural production of hierarchical gender differences’. 21. Heynen et al. 1997, p. 105; Overdijk & Loeffen 1985, p. 4. 22. Heynen et al. 1997, p. 99. 23. Wigley 1992. 24. According to Colomina 1992, pp. 99-100, n. 9, with reference to a quotation from Mulvey. 25. For an overview see Cieraad 2000A. 26. Colomina 1992, pp. 91-92, 97-98. 27. Haraway 1989, p. 161. 28. Turkle 1997 and 1999. 29. Van Gigch 1979, p. 135. 30. Bakker et al. 1998, p. 8 speaks of the ‘by architects cursed nameless diomain’ of the ‘standard house’, also referred to as ‘system house’, ‘mail-order house’, ‘type house’, ‘self-construction house’, ‘catalogue house’. Weeber 1998, p. 7 suggests a sharp contrast between, on the one hand, ‘state thinking in architecture and urbanism’, ‘paradigm of Berlage’, ‘worn-out planning thinking’, ‘rigid planning practice’, ‘government meddling’, ‘architectural police’, ‘state architects’, ‘petrified tent camps’ and, on the other hand, ‘free market’, ‘freedom’, ‘leisure’, ‘entertainment’ and ‘relaxation’ for an ‘emancipated population’. 31. The transition from Vitruvius to Palladio, writes Grafe 1993, p. 73, involves ‘a leap of almost 1500 years of history’. 32. Van Zeijl 1996, pp. 105-106. 33. Van Zeijl 1996, p. 106. 34. Nijenhuis 1996, p. 183. 35. Olsen 1991, p. 137; Van Dooren 1996, pp. 18-19; Evans 1983, pp. 2-16. 36. Van Zeijl 1996, pp. 106, 110; Bekaert 1976, pp. 74-75, 77-78; Nijenhuis 1996, p. 186: ‘True dwelling is no longer an issue in our culture’. 37. Van Zeijl 1996, pp. 110-115; Bekaert 1976, pp. 59-60; Grafe 1993, pp. 73-76; Evans 1983, pp. 4-5. 38. Terms such as ‘continuity’, ‘stability’, ‘harmony’, ‘coming home’, ‘sense of security’, ‘safety’, ‘warmth’, ‘natural sober life’, ‘poetic dwelling’, ‘true dwelling’, ‘humanistic dwelling’, ‘resting as a form of contemplation’ ‘the richness of the primitive existence’, ‘the primal experience of dwelling’, ‘dwelling ideal’, ‘wealth’, ‘enjoyment’, ‘earthly paradise’, ‘relaxation’, ‘complete surrender to pleasure’, ‘humanistic ideal’, ‘ideal dwelling’, ‘beauty’ are used. Derived from Bekaert 1976, Cornelissen 1996, Nijenhuis 1996, Reijndorp 1998, Van Zeijl 1996. 39. Bekaert 1976, p. 61. 40. Current dwelling or living is referred to in terms of ‘acceleration’, ‘rapid changes’, viii Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 ‘nervousness’, ‘nervous lifestyle’, ‘shifts’, ‘stream’, ‘dynamics’, as ‘characteristics of modernity’, ‘dwelling is like a restless journey’. One speaks of man in terms such as ‘alienation’, 'uprootedness’, ‘passer-by’, ‘nomad’, ‘flaneur’. Today’s dwelling is nothing but ‘crisis’, ‘illness’, ‘loss’, ‘paradise lost’, ‘emptiness’, ‘confrontation’, ‘dwelling in modernity’, ‘poverty’, ‘despair’, ‘insecurity’, ‘degeneration’, ‘inertia’, ‘speechlessness’, ‘indefinability’, ‘desolation’, ‘desolate, codified boredom’, ‘decay’, ‘decline’, ‘reduction’, ‘crumbling’, ‘alienation’. From this lack a ‘longing for “dwelling” emerges as a “feeling at home in the world”’, although one always emphasizes ‘the impossibility of reaching a harmonious agreement with the world’. This new, uprooted human being consists of types such as ‘nomads’, ‘people living in the outskirts’, ‘original townspeople’, ‘new townspeople’, ‘villagers’, ‘suburbanists’. Derived from Bekaert 1976; Nijenhuis 1996; Reijndorp 1998. 41. Wallis de Vries 1996, p. 43: ‘Dwelling is somewhere where that which is removed in time is collected. Travelling is staying nowhere, on the way to get close to what’s far away in space. Dwelling is fascinated lby memories and, more than that, by something unforgettable. Travelling fascinates by being on the road, and more, by not knowing where to go. As the discovery of a secret, however, dwelling is also something unknown, and can therefore be understood as travelling! Dwelling loses something homely but then wins a road, a road that should appeal mainly to the architects’. 42. Bekaert 1976, pp. 57-58: ‘in the reflections of this philosophy, a privileged dwelling in a rural environment from the pre-industrial area is mentioned’. 43. Praz 1994, p. 102. 44. Westermann 2001. 45. Schulze 1998, p. 9; Kemp 1998, pp. 24-28. 46. Hoogewoning 2001, pp. 4-7; Hertzberger 1988, p. 119; Rybczynski 1986, p. 75 ‘everyday life of the ordinary bourgeoisie’ (p. 70); Schama 1988: ‘idealized perfect domestic family’, ‘domestic peace and cleanliness’, ‘virtuous living’, ‘there is a consecrated domestic atmosphere’ (p. 398), ‘uncontaminated domestic peace’, ‘kind of sheltered household’ (p. 400); Praz 1994: ‘intimacy’, ‘bourgeois neatness’, ‘distinction and solidity’ (p. 54); Méchoulan 1992: ‘intimate painting’, ‘the joy of being in the domestic sphere’ (p. 14); Schulze (1998): ‘visions of private happiness’, ‘the bourgeois private sphere’, ‘warmth of life’, ‘poverty of movement’, ‘nothing happens’, ‘elegant, upper middle-class reality of life’ (p. 10); Werche 1998: ‘the prosperity and self-confidence of an urban social class that has gained wealth and prestige through worldwide trade relations and changed political conditions’ (p. 36); Collomp 1989: ‘wealth’, ‘calm order’, ‘certain sense of comfort and taste’ (pp. 430-431). 47. Betksy 1995, p. 210, n. 6. 48. Reed 1996, p. 8, with reference to Rybczynski 1986. 49. Ariès 1973; Flandrin 1976; Stone 1979; Leydesdorff 1975; Wieringa et al. 1978; Kooy 1985; Kloek 1989; Ozment 1983; Peeters et al. 1988. See for an overview Haks 1982; Kloek 1983 and 1990. 50. Haks 1982, p. 20. 51. De Mare 1999. 52. Kloek & Mijnhardt 2001; Bank & Van Buuren 2000. 53. Schuurman 1989 and 1996; Kloek & Mijnhardt 2001; Schoonjans 1997; Tilly 1993; Stuurman 1995; Dibbets 1998, pp. 70-71, 79. 54. Krol 1997. 55. Brandt Corstius et al. 1981, pp. 22, 21 and 26. Paintings that, incidentally, were regularly purchased by foreign collectors. 56. Presumably the work of Jacob Cats – translated into German at an early age – played its own ix Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 role in the attention to civicness. Kloek 1998; Frijhoff & Spies 1999; Spickernagel 1985 and 1992B. 57. Broos 1990; Hollander 1991; Sutton 1998; Baarspul 2001. 58. In the sixties this typical Dutch theme emerged as the title of a radio serial (‘Family Average’) and more recently as a TV series by the Dutch commercial television channel RTL4. 59. Van Regteren Altena 1940, p. 4. 60. Sarels of the Rhine 1957; Cieraad, 2000A, 2000B, 1998; Van Moorsel 1992; Wilke 1998. 61. Modern huishouden (Modern household), pp. 20, 22-26, 27-29. 62. Cieraad 1999B. 63. Schuyt 2000, p. 253: ‘Contrary to popular belief, life in a pillarized society had attractive aspects for those involved. From the “liberated” point of view of the sixties and later this period seems to have been almost a “horror”. But in the fifties, one compared one’s own situation mainly with the dark years of the war, in comparison with which the fifties brought freedom, prosperity and friendships. It took long and hard work – the free Saturday was only introduced in 1961 – but the results became more visible every year’. 64. Grijzenhout 1993. 65. Schuyt 2000, p. 284. Designing the house plays an important role in this cultural change. A large part of the increase in prosperity is due to the ‘vrouw des huizes’ (mistress of the house), who ‘as a consumer and user of new appliances, was also able to free up time and energy to nurture and educate the new generation’. 66. Aerts 1998, pp. 9-27. An indication of the late twentieth-century image formation can be seen, for example, in the fate of Gerard Reve’s De Avonden (The Evenings). Written in 1947, the stifling petty bourgeois environment of the war years is the subject. The book experienced a tremendous boom in those periods when resistance against the fifties was noted in the name of emancipation (1961-1973) and individualisation (1987-present). In the meantime, fifty editions have appeared, as well as a film, a theatre adaptation, a CD-Rom with the author reading from his own work, while a comic strip is in preparation. 67. De Klerck 2002. 68. Aerts 1998, p. 7. 69. Rybczynski 1986, p. 52; Schama 1988; Sutton 1998; Hollander 2001. 70. Rybczynski 1986, p. 75. 71. Rybczynski 1986, pp. 59-60, with reference to Philip Ariès. 72. ‘A group portrait of the Dutch Golden Age is therefore only complete when there is also room for the scholar, next to the painter and the preacher’, according to Van Berkel 1995, p. 187. 73. Meischke 1969, p. 21. 74. It is therefore not surprising that authors (from Vermeulen 1941 up to and including Zantkuijl 1993) derived part of their building history knowledge from genre painting. Vermeulen 1941, pp. 98-100; Zantkuijl 1993, pp. 159, 160, 204-205, 293. 75. Meischke et al. 1993-1997; De Vries 1994; Stenvert 1991. 76. Bouwsma 1981; Colton 1981. 77. Poppe 1991, p. 241. 78. De Mare 2000 and 2001. 79. For the methodological principles of historical formalism, see Chapter 1. 80. For terms used in the history of science: see Grafton 1990; Osler 1998. 81. Berns 1979, pp. 102-103. 82. Frijhoff 1992A and 1998, p. 82. 83. Santing 1995, p. 253; Halbertsma et al. 1993. 84. Poppe 1991 and 1992. 85, Smith 1992, p. xvi. 86. De Mare et al. 1992, De Mare 1993, 1994A, 1994B, 1997B, 1999 and 2001. 87. The painting is also known as Perspective from a Threshold. x 

Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Chapter 5.2.1. Aby Warburg and cultural history as scholarly field of study ‘Not until art history can show ... that it sees the work of art in a few more dimensions than it has done so far will our activity again attract the interest of scholars and of the general public’, Aby Warburg, August 18th, 1927.1 It is only at this point that I am able to formulate my intuitions about the cultural-historical work of Aby Warburg. 2 I had to do my own research on historical text and images in order to be able to study Warburg’s world of thought. We have to distinguish between Warburg’s often obsolete terminology on the one hand (which was dominated by psychology around 1900), and the epistemological consequences of his many studies on art history on the other hand. In any case, an introduction to Warburg’s thinking prior to my dissertation research would have made little sense. Only after the completion of the entire research project, with the many decisions that were necessary along the way, it is clear to me what I have actually recognized in the work of Warburg. The same goes for the work of the Dutch art historians Henry van de Waal and Jan A. Emmens – there will be a section devoted to them below (5.2.3.). It is only after completion that I am able to formulate why I found the wellestablished paths in the art histories of the last thirty years to be too light. The last paragraph (5.2.4, ‘Plato and the Dutch art histories’) is a report on that. In recent years, art historians have taken up the work of Aby Warburg again.3 Like Heinrich Wölfflin, Max Dvorák and Alois Riegl, his name is linked to an important (German-speaking) phase in art history in which both formal ‘Stilgeschichte’ and ‘Geistesgeschichte’ have played an important role. The Dutch art historian Marlite Halbertsma has pointed out that at the beginning of the twentieth century ‘academic practitioners of art history were looking for a way out of a cultural-historical approach and too limited connoisseurship. In one case, the work of art was merely a historical document; in the other, it was merely an aesthetic object’. This way out led to ‘a kind of historical psychology of mankind’. This psychological interpretation formed the broad academic context around 1900 and formed the basis of the then pre-war art-historical views.4 It became a determining factor in the way in which works of art were approached and interpreted. ‘Works of art can be brought together in larger entities through stylistic criticism, independently of the historical data at our disposal, in which the formal characteristics correspond to these basic psychological postures with regard to reality’.5 Although Warburg is considered to be one of the founders of the art-historical discipline, his work and way of thinking left few traces. Also, in the (international) handbooks 1 Translation included in Gombrich 1986, p. 322. A lecture by Warburg is called Kulturwissenschaftliche Methode, according to Gombrich 1986, p. 345. Ginzburg 1988, p. 72 speaks of ‘Kulturwissenschaftliche Bildgeschichte’. 3 Podro 1982; Reijnders 1984; Gombrich 1986; Van Huisstede 1992; Halbertsma 1993, pp. 45-102; Halbertsma & Zijlmans 1993; Van Mechelen 1993. Especially iconologists have identified Warburg as the founder of their profession, while at the same time either ignoring or modernizing the psychological dated nature of his work. See for instance Dutch art historians like Becker 1993, p. 41; De Jongh 1992A; Hecht et al. 1998. 4 Gombrich 1986 emphasizes in the first place Warburg’s personal commitment to psychology, whereas in this day and age it was the scientific vocabulary in which people – regardless of the questions they had – expressed themselves: ‘Committed as he was to psychological explanations he continued to marvel at the re-appearance of artistic forms till he had absorbed the phenomenon into an extended psychological theory of social memory’ (p. 309). On p. 319 Gombrich speaks of ‘his interest in social psychology’, on p. 322 of his ‘fundamental psychological issues’, on p. 323 of ‘his cultural psychology’ and ‘triumph over psychological obstacles’. 5 Halbertsma 1985; 1993, pp. 78-79. 2 649 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 and critical historiography of the discipline that have been published since the 1970s, there are hardly any references to his work. 6 The cultural-historical and comparative nature of Warburg’s work has even resulted in some art historians explicitly distancing themselves from his work.7 It was therefore more often than not cultural historians who welcomed his work, such as Johan Huizinga in 1933, Carlo Ginzburg in 1966 and Klaas van Berkel in 1986.8 Recently, iconologists (who see Warburg as the spiritual father of iconology) have renewed this cultural-historical interest by linking iconology to historical anthropology. 9 However, Halbertsma has pointed out that Warburg’s views on ‘art’ and ‘history’ cannot be reduced to a cultural history that interprets works of art as an illustration or mirror of a particular historical culture. ‘Warburg owes its insights largely to the cultural anthropology of the nineteenth century, which attached great importance to research into the formation of culture. Warburg compares the Renaissance with other cultures and undertakes comparative research into how images are used and how they work’.10 The revaluation that is currently taking place does not necessarily imply that Warburg’s work is actually being read. The historical dated nature of his work does not necessarily make it accessible. A re-reading requires insight into both the then and the current academic state of affairs. What contemporary researchers are trying to do is to reconstruct the roots of the art historical discipline as well as possible. They placed the work of Riegl, Wölfflin, Dvoràk, Panofsky and others in a historical context (in which philosophical thinking serves as the main frame of reference) and present the chronological sequence. 11 They treat these authors as originating from their own time, in which their views have arisen in mutual debates and critiques. The later art-historical movements such as the formal stylistic-analytical approach (Wölfflin, Riegl) on the one hand and the more content-related, intellectual interest (Warburg, Dvoràk) on the other hand are being mapped out step by step. Some authors have produced more systematic works (such as Riegl), while for others (like Warburg) theorization lies hidden in the analyses themselves. 12 However necessary such a historiography may be, it is only the first beginning of the incorporation of one’s own disciplinary past. 13 In fact, that epistemological past hardly penetrates this historiography. Precisely because the chronological reconstruction of the individual relationships between art historians is placed in the foreground, there is no need to think systematically about the theoretical problems raised by these art historians. Nor to reflect on the somewhat outdated (psychological, racial and ethnological) concepts that they 6 Kleinbauer 1971; Bauer 1976; Preziosi 1989; Nelson 1996. Hecht 1997, p. 97 opposes iconological studies par excellence ‘whose aim is to study cultural history at large’. 8 Huizinga 1949B3; Ginzburg 1988A; Van Berkel 1986; De Jongh 1992B, p. 308. 9 Falkenburg 1993. 10 Halbertsma 1993, p. 89. And on p. 86 she notes: ‘Warburg is not interested in questions of attribution and dating, he does not compile oeuvres and does not collect archival data on the lives of artists. Nor is he interested in the works of the great Renaissance artists. Warburg treats famous works of art alongside unknown ones, he discusses great and small masters, he compares frescoes with carpets and woodcuts – “high” and “low” we would now say. In addition, he constantly compares the visual expressions with the literature of the time, and compares them to feasts, parades and all kinds of other ephemeral practices’. 11 Bauer 1976; Kleinbauer 1971; Bruyn 1988; De Jongh 1992B; Hecht et al. 1998. 12 Halbertsma 1985, pp. 159-162 points out that both tendencies in the pre-war, German situation are demonstrable, but that there is by no means a clear separation as it has manifested itself after the Second World War. 13 For example, in 1998, p. 9, Hecht et al. introduced the essays on art history in the Netherlands as follows: ‘This volume can and will only be an appetizer, and if it promotes the desire to reflect more often and more systematically on the history of this profession, which is still so vital in the Netherlands, then a great deal has already been achieved’. 7 650 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 once used and that we now, driven by a politically correct way of thinking, prefer not to recognize. ‘Some notions of “racial” memory were so widespread in the nineteenth century that they passed almost unquestioned in the phraseology of historians, poets and critics. (...) It cannot be denied that our own period has become especially allergic to unsupported speculations on these lines because of the danger that they may give “aid and comfort” to racialist creeds’, according to Gombrich in 1986. 14 The risk of such a superficial approach to the historiography of art history is that the testators will be permanently stored and become valuable but well-preserved relics that are excluded from current professional practice.15 In this way, one can move on to the order of the day, supported by a reassured past. 16 Such a reading makes it almost impossible to distil the interesting questions from the history of art before the Second World War. 17 But even more important is that by disavowing this theoretical heritage, we lack the context to be able to estimate the connection with other (related) disciplines on their own merits at this moment in time. The fact that art history was initially primarily a German-language affair made its ‘commemoration’ in the second half of the twentieth century very difficult. In 1985 Halbertsma observed that, although the production of art history in German-language publications between 1900 and 1945 had been ‘one of the most important in the history of our profession’, the historiography of these epistemological roots was still virtually unexplored territory. The studies that were published were marked by the political events between 1933 and 1945. In the absence of secondary studies, Halbertsma had to start with primary literature.18 Another problem is that it is easy to lose sight of the broad outlines because of the emphasis on the chronology of microscopic shifts. This historical myopia makes it more difficult to link the history of the discipline to the current disciplinary state of affairs. It is often simply believed that the current discipline has surpassed the past. In a certain sense, this is true: certain formulations and concepts (also in the case of Warburg) are rightly considered outdated. This applies in particular to nineteenth-century psychological terminology, but also to aesthetic notions. But in other respects, it remains to be seen whether we are so much further advanced today. Some of the problems that arise today have already been recognized by these authors. 19 That is why an investigation into the genealogy of knowledge should first and foremost be a reflection on and confrontation with the various theoretical views in art history. In this sense, a systematic analysis of the questions asked, of the goals that were set, of the choices that were made and the place given to visual material, is more important for the epistemological development of the profession than the pursuit of an exhaustive reconstruction of the past of these authors. Svetlana Alpers, for example, re-reads Riegl’s work, both on the basis of concepts formulated in recent art-historical research, and on the basis of concepts that originate from literary criticism. Such a reading may involve a sorting out of relevant and irrelevant matters. In her re-reading of Riegl, Alpers is not interested in his Hegelianism and his psychological terminology, nor in the ‘historical and deterministic aspects of Riegl’s system’, but rather in 14 Gombrich 1986, pp. 239-240. In 1966, Ginzburg was still of the opinion that a current re-reading of Warburg was unnecessary: ‘It would certainly be somewhat ridiculous if one wanted to “discover” today the value of the lessons of Warburg and of the friends who continued his work’ (Ginzburg 1988A, p. 67). Ginzburg made his statement at a time when Warburg was an integral part of the art history reception in Italy. 16 Hecht et al. 1998. 17 Halberstma 1993, p. 84. 18 Halbertsma 1985, pp. 2-3. 19 Halberstma 1993, p. 84. 15 651 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 his detailed observations of specific works of art and their theoretical consequences. 20 Others, such as Damisch, Hasenmüller, Moxey, Holly and Van Mechelen, have reread Panofsky’s work in this way. 21 Take, for instance, today’s rejection of the psychological interpretation of works of art that was so typical of the art-historical views around 1900. Halbertsma has shown that the rise of psychological art history is related to three things. In the first place, art history in the nineteenth century is the result of the breakaway from philosophical aesthetics (the discipline that has been studying ‘the Beautiful’ from that moment on). This art history then attempts to dissociate the study of works of art from nineteenth-century cultural history because ‘art had become too much of a vehicle for history’. The ‘cultural-historical context’ (including biographical and political aspects) was regarded as irrelevant to art-historical research. 22 The resulting art history then focuses on the psychological ability to conceive (of which the works of art would be the expression) and on ‘Einfühlung’, the ability to feel the atmosphere in a work of art.23 In this way a link is established with the new discipline of empirical psychology, which is close to the exact sciences and which by the end of the nineteenth century had also detached itself from philosophy. 24 If we look at these transformations, it will be clear that art history after the Second World War is about similar issues. The question of what is decisive in the analysis of the work of art – the historical dating, the eternal beauty or the human psyche – is still under discussion, in varying combinations. However, it are different disciplines that are now interfering with these issues and the interplay of forces has undergone numerous changes. The German context has become Anglo-Saxon. Social history and historical anthropology, semiotics and philosophy, Marxism and feminism, mentality history and psychoanalysis have profoundly changed the academic scene. Although the questions have changed and the analytical concepts have been renewed, the old dilemmas are still present. Because of this ‘echo’, the art-historical debate from before the Second World War is an excellent opportunity to critically analyze the formulation and modification of certain, still relevant, issues. It is not for nothing that all kinds of ‘innovative’ insights from the last few decades are strongly reminiscent of earlier, already held debates in the history of art, but in a modernized form. Anyone who reads that German art historian Wilhelm Pinder 25 (like Dutch historian Jan Romein) thinks of historical time in terms of its layering and difference in temporality,26 understands the history of art as a European universe marked by regional accents and differences, 27 and envisages art history as a process of continual change (i.e., without an eternal concepts of art or beauty, and without periods of decay or decline) 28 – will follow the current debate from a different viewpoint. Not only because in the pre-war period 20 Alpers 1979, pp. 141, 145. Damisch 1975; Hasenmüller 1977/78; Van Mechelen 1993; Moxey 1985/86, 1991, 1994; Holly 1984. 22 Halberstma 1985, p. 52. 23 Halberstma 1985, pp. 56-57. 24 Halberstma 1985, pp. 52-54: ‘Art history had emancipated itself from aesthetics to an independent scholarship in the 19th century. This was done by accepting historical research methods, which were “harder” than the old aesthetic-speculative methods. At the end of the 19th century, art history accepted aesthetics again, because these aesthetics had their starting points in the new psychology’. 25 For biographical data of Pinder (1878-1947) and the series of appointments as professor of art history (Würzburg, Darmstadt, Breslau, Leipzig, Munich and Berlin, from 1905 until the second world war), see Halbertsma 1985, pp. 4-5. 26 Halbertsma 1985, p. 125: ‘non-simultaneous events that happen at the same time’. 27 Halbertsma 1985, p. 34. 28 According to Halbertsma 1985, pp. 35-36, Pinder considered such periods to be necessary transitional situations which, in a dialectic sense, lead to a new harmonic situation. 21 652 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 art historians such as Pinder wrote with a view to a European continent in which Germany had a central position, with its own art, of the same value. 29 But above all because the political blemish had important consequences for the course of post-war art history. ‘The exile of so many German art historians has provided an international platform for iconology in particular, while at the same time isolating the German art history that was left behind after 1933. After 1945, European art history resumed its course under completely different circumstances in a different, Anglo-Saxon, environment. The relative lack of interest in the history of the discipline – sometimes turning into outright hostility (...) to the German tradition – can probably be traced back in part to this cultural and political rupture. The discipline of art history has since 1945 become a different one, with changed objectives and methods.’30 By the way, the historical sciences, which deal with the same kind of troubled past, have given a central place to the critical processing of this past. 31 Unlike what happened in the abruptly demolished (German) art history, historians have modified and transformed the prewar questions after the second world war. 32 Instead of overly simplistic geographical units and chronologies, historical time was approached as consisting of several temporal developments and geographical space was interpreted as differentiated and consisting of distinct cultures with their own symbolic and ritual traditions. For art history, there is hardly such a revision of the views on history, region, culture and art. This incapacity is undoubtedly due to the inability (for various reasons) to critically examine one’s own past and the foundations of the discipline. My interest in the work of Warburg will be limited here. It is clear that a real rereading of Warburg is beyond the scope of my research. After all, I have set myself the goal of a cultural-historical analysis of the concept of the ‘house’ in the various early modern ‘arts’. A thorough re-reading would require a new analysis, more focused on the history of Warburg’s concepts, and this does not necessarily lead to a confirmation of the methodology I advocated. For example, Halbertsma characterized Warburg’s project in a way that reveals his emphasis on the rules of thought, as well as the fact that he was looking for an explanation of this in the psychological domain: ‘Warburg’s oeuvre can be characterized as an undertaking that has set itself the goal of tracing the laws of visual and intellectual processes, as they are anchored in the psyche of man, which expresses itself as a means to control and understand its environment.’33 Moreover, other authors have already done so in part, although this does not always make it any easier because – as is the case with Gombrich – his own points of view are also at stake. 34 The importance of Warburg is that his work, if modernized, can offer an alternative to the current situation. He proposes an analysis in which both texts and images are involved, and he explicitly speaks of a third way. His image collection, known as Mnemosyne Image Atlas, is an example of this. The visual material collected in the course of his life has been put together by Warburg on some sixty panels. It consists of images of works of art as well as other types of visual material (advertising posters, stamps, photographs) in which the order 29 Halbertsma 1985, p. 34. Halbertsma 1993, p. 96. 31 Dekker et al. 2000. 32 And stripped of sciences that previously played a role, such as racial, tribal and population theories, by means of cultural anthropology has now become folk culture, while psychological science, for example, has been transformed into history of mentality. 33 Halbertsma 1993, p. 95. 34 For a discussion of this, see Halbertsma 1993, pp. 85-96, particularly his views on the human psyche. See also Van Huisstede 1992. 30 653 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 was determined by the similarities that Warburg discerned in them. What he thus demonstrated was the migration and the dissemination (he speaks of ‘Nachleben’) of certain themes and motifs, of formal and stylistic characteristics in the course of European history. 35 ‘The development of Western culture from the sources of ancient civilization is not a closed process, but is constantly renewing itself; also through the activity of the observer himself, who applies the iconological analysis, in the sense of critical iconology, to it. The interpreter allows the images to articulate again and maps them out. Mnemosyne was also the term that Warburg had placed above the entrance to his library: it is an incentive for the researcher to realize that it is precisely by dealing with works from the past that he is the guardian of that past and the experiences stored in it. At the same time, “Mnemosyne” is an indication to consider the experience itself as an object of research, as an encouragement to investigate the functions of social memory on the basis of the historical material.’ 36 In this sense, I want to situate my own analytical approach (‘historical formalism’) and my treatment of image series (understood as ‘visual formations’ in ‘the image archive’), which I have formulated primarily on the basis of theoretical principles from outside current art history, within the discipline of art history and on the basis of existing approaches within it, such as that of Warburg. By definition, this grafting takes place under different conditions, within a ‘new’ conceptual framework and with the aid of other reproductive facilities. Just as the new techniques of reproduction in the time of Warburg brought about changes in the way art history was written at the beginning of the twentieth century, so too will current technology have an influence on the way in which visual material is available and can be arranged. ‘It could be hypothesized that with the increasing number of images and the improvement of printing techniques, it becomes less and less necessary for the author to deal with the “general” in detail, since the large number of images allows the reader to easily follow smaller shifts and exceptions within a general pattern. After all, the development of photographic reproduction, both in terms of slides and photographs, has been a sine qua non for the emergence of a formalistic approach to art’.37 I have tried to arrange the ‘historical analysis’ and the ‘formal analysis’ (both of which claim to study an autonomous evolutionary process and which in art history often act as opposites, as ‘content’ and ‘form’) in a different relationship to each other. In that sense, approaching Warburg is also relevant. As Halbertsma points out, Warburg’s work moves ‘in the lee’ of the ‘Kunstgeschichte als Geistesgeschichte’, which enabled him to avoid the shortcomings of this approach. In the context of that time, Warburg sought to transcend the rigid division between style history and iconology. 38 There are two things I would like to do here. Firstly, I would like to outline some of Warburg’s theoretical principles and make clear which elements have made his project almost unrecognizable in the course of the twentieth century. The art-historical discipline that Warburg had in mind has in the course of time become diametrically opposed to his epistemological principles. Secondly, I’d like to draw attention to a few authors who have been carrying parts of Warburg’s vision through time. As a result, some of his art-historical conceptions have remained recognizable and fruitful. Aby Warburg formulated his views on art history as a scholarly discipline on the basis of his criticism of art-historical practice in the nineteenth century. 39 What he particularly 35 Van Huisstede 1992; Halbertsma 1993, p. 93. Halbertsma 1993, p. 93; Van Huisstede 1992. 37 Halbertsma 1985, pp. 37-38; Benjamin 1936. 38 Halbertsma 1993, pp. 84-85; Gombrich 1986, p. viii. 39 I will rely on the following publications: Reijnders 1984, Van Huisstede 1992, Ginzburg 1988A, Halbertsma 1993, Podro 1982, Vanbergen 1986, Emmens 1967. 36 654 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 rejects is the one-sided aesthetic experience of works of art and the emphasis on style as a guideline of art history. The direct connection between a modern beholder and a work of art from another period – consisting of feelings evoked by that artifact – stands in the way of an understanding of that work of art. The postulate of eternal beauty turns both the work of art and the aesthetic experience into a-historic phenomena. Art history is left with nothing else than to appreciate works of art on the basis of their aesthetics and to document, attribute and date them in their uniqueness. For Warburg, the work of art is first and foremost a historical phenomenon, sprouted from an artistic appreciation that is also historical. ‘If one wants to ensure that one does not confuse one’s own conceptions of art with the conceptions of people from the past about that art, where the idea is that the conceptions of people then determined the significance of works of art at that time, then the art historian has to carry out an investigation into the conceptions of (groups of) people from the past.’ 40 This implies that a work of art cannot simply be regarded as the bearer of historical ideas, symbols, messages, insights and opinions, as if it were a form of knowledge that is directly accessible and decodable through the image. The art historian’s task is therefore not so much to grasp (the deeper content of) the work of art (‘Verstehen’), nor to unveil some kind of historical-social meaning that would be stored in it. The latter is the case, for example, with Ginzburg, who – as a historian – advocates ‘the use of testimonies from the visual arts as a historical source.'41 Instead, an art historian should add the historical dimension to the work of art, i.e. indicate the position it has as an ‘art’ object in a specific cultural context. 42 This conception of art history as primarily a historical discipline has far-reaching consequences for the status of the work of art as an object of research. Concepts of art, artistry and aesthetics that in the nineteenth century were seen as eternal or supra-historical quantities must themselves be studied as historical phenomena. In so doing, one also abandons the ambiguity with which a work of art is usually approached: as something that arose at a certain moment in the past, while its artistic value is separate from it. Instead, the qualities and properties of a painting or edifice are examined in historical-contemporary terms. The consequent search for the historicity of ‘aesthetic’ valuations and views on art has led Warburg to reject the fixed periodization of art history. ‘Warburg had never been interested in the orthodox art historical approach which concentrated on the slow evolution of stylistic means of representation’.43The idea of art history as a chronology of unique masterpieces is itself based on the idea of unchanging beauty. If one wants to take seriously the research into the historical articulation of the aesthetic experience and artistry, the current division and linear development quickly loses its validity. That has three consequences. First of all, all kinds of visual material from the past are relevant to investigate, and not just those ‘works of art’ that comply with modern aesthetic standards. ‘Warburg treats famous works of art alongside unknown ones, he discusses great and small masters, he compares frescoes with carpets and woodcuts – “high” and “low” we would now say’.44 This does not imply, however, that he does not recognize value patterns within which visual material can and should be assessed in a differentiated way. For example, Gombrich observes that on this point Warburg relates to contemporary linguistic theories, in which similar issues played a role. 40 Van Huisstede 1992, pp. vii-viii. 41 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 68. Van Huisstede 1992, p. vii. 43 Gombrich 1986, p. 308. 44 Halbertsma 1993, p. 86. 42 655 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 ‘Indeed, he started out with the conviction that there are good images and mean images, just as there are elevated and debased words in language’.45 Thus, value patterns are culturally specific (including those in the arts) and demonstrate shifts over the course of time. But the most important thing was Warburg’s ‘discovery that the co-ordinate systems of values seemed to shift and twist’ the moment he wanted to use it for ‘the cultural universe’ of another historical period. 46 A second consequence is that Warburg pays less attention to geographical demarcation in regions in favor of a greater focus on developments within Europe as a whole. 47 Gombrich emphasizes Warburg’s view that one will learn to see that Western civilization is one, and cannot be carved up into departmental concerns’.48 A similar view that Panofsky was confronted with in the United States. In 1953 he noted that American art historians are not bothered by regional differences like their European counterparts. ‘Seen from the other side of the Atlantic, the whole of Europe from Spain to the Eastern Mediterranean merged into one panorama the planes of which appeared at proper intervals and in equally sharp focus. And as the American art historians were able to see the past in a perspective picture undistorted by national and regional bias, so were they able to see the present in a perspective picture undistorted by personal or institutional parti pris’.49 The habit of distinguishing Italian from the Northern art is therefore rejected by Warburg. Not only artists, but also images (especially prints) and views on art, both beautiful and ugly, migrate across the entire continent. They are travelling. ‘For images to be able to travel on a large scale, a number of conditions must be met. The material used must not be too expensive and it must be possible to easily produce large numbers of images. The art of printing met these conditions and turned out to be eminently suitable to serve as a medium for the distribution of images’.50 Warburg wants to map out these movements of the visual artifacts, the complex genealogy of the ‘itineraries’. As a result, Warburg ‘does not wish to use the traditional distinction between different geographical regions’ (which is why Warburg speaks of “Gesamtgebiet europäischer Kultur”, “europäische Gesamtkultur der renaissance”’.51 Instead of one history of art that was transformed ‘en masse’ per period, Warburg focused on the many separate histories. ‘He explicitly rejected a “unilinear” interpretation of art history and strove for an understanding of the complex fields of force that make up a “period”’, according to Gombrich. 52 A third consequence is the need to include thinking from the relevant historical period in the analysis. The cultural context consists of the set of values that are attached to works of art in a certain period of time and to visual material in general. Warburg considers it necessary for a historical examination of a work of art to study the contemporary texts in order to gain insight into the contextuality, the evolution and the memory trail of, for example, symbols in the course of time. 53 ‘The symbol, in Warburg’s reading, was the counterpart, in the collective mind, of the “engram” in the nervous system of the individual. Its continued existence and validity amidst all transformations was, therefore, a postulate of the theory. He looked for what he sometimes called a Leitfossil, borrowing the term from the 45 Gombrich 1986, p. 320. Gombrich 1986, p. 320. 47 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 40. 48 Gombrich 1986, p. 324. 49 Panofsky 1955B, p. 328. 50 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 37. 51 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 37. 52 Gombrich 1986, p. 319. 53 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 37. 46 656 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 geologists who determine geological strata from the evolutionary stage of certain organisms that dominate the epoch concerned. To uncover and display the state of these evolutions of a symbol in the successive periods of history was to be the aim of the method Warburg hoped to develop’.54 Warburg strictly distinguished his striving for a ‘scientific’ art history from the iconographic researches that art historians pursued. 55 Gombrich emphasizes in this context that the iconographic approach in Warburg’s work was marginal and that his view of iconology was very specific. ‘His iconology was not the study of complex emblems and allegories but the interaction of forms and contents in the clash of traditions’.56 The fact that Warburg himself explicitly speaks of ‘heterogeneous’ artefacts can now be understood and refers to his special conception of interdisciplinarity. ‘Warburg’s methodology refuses to study or relate objects, concepts and ideas independently of a historical context. It is only by precisely describing time and again how people dealt with these objects, concepts or ideas that we get closer to the specific significance of these objects, concepts and ideas’.57 Ginzburg and Gombrich refer to similar issues: ‘instead of conforming to more or less accidental “geistesgeschichtliche Parallelen”’, Warburg had brought ‘different fields of science together (...) (history of style, sociology, history of religion and morality), in order to solve individual and well-defined problems by means of the reconstruction of concrete relationships’.58 ‘Zum Bild das Wort' – a famous statement in which he brings together two aspects of his conception of art-historical cultural history. The formula has a double meaning. On the one hand, a work of art cannot be studied as an independent object. The historical dimension of an artifact can only be traced by including the context of the thinking, the words, the texts from the same period about the artifact. ‘When the cultural context determines the significance(s) of works of art from the past, it is obvious to analyze possible significations by studying texts from the same context that shed light on the characteristics of the works of art’.59On the other hand, the words that are associated with the image must also be analyzed historically. Just like the historical visual material, the text material is not open to direct analysis. Warburg strives to make the text material as a whole, with all its inner contradictions, an object of research. It is incorrect to read a text unilaterally, in function of what one is seeking, by taking only those aspects that fit the question. In his article ‘Heidnisch-antike Weissagung in Wort und Bild zu Luthers Zeiten’ (on Pagan-Ancient Prophecy in Word and Image in Luther’s Times) from 1920, Warburg includes a letter from Melanchton to Carion about the comet of 1531 in its entirety, in order to analyze this text in its heterogeneity. 60 Moreover, for the examination of texts and words, a specific method is necessary. Warburg argues in favor of a philologicalhistorical approach that accounts for the details in the material to be studied, its systematics and the specific combinations (of words, concepts, sentences and structure), as well as for the broad historical lines. However, these general outlines serve as guidelines. They are not fixed or well-established paths that only need to be filled in by detailed study. Warburg is ‘clear about the status of the outlines he used to structure his research. These were structures 54 Gombrich 1986, pp. 260-261. Gombrich 1986, p. 144. 56 Gombrich 1986, pp. 312-313. 57 Van Huisstede 1992, p. iii. 58 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 99. 59 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 38. 60 Warburg 1920, pp. 204-206. 55 657 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 constructed by the historian which he used to map out a multitude of different historical phenomena as well as possible, i.e. in their complexity and diversity’.61 Warburg therefore considers art history as a historical discipline and not as a social science. However, there are several points of tangency. For example, his view of culture derived from cultural anthropology and his interest in the continuation of classical forms in folk art. 62 This is related to his enlargement of the types of visual material that art history should examine and his introduction of the cultural context. This also explains his interest in the position of art and images in everyday life or during exceptional events. Warburg, for example, considered feasts and rituals as complex ensembles that are pre-eminently suitable for analyzing the formation of significance. ‘Warburg himself referred to his attempts to sketch the cultural context of images in order to be able to study these images as historical objects as a “history of mentality”. By which, for that matter, he implied that the only key to elucidating the significance of works of art from the past was a meticulous study of the values, norms, wishes and desires of the people at the time: the historical significance of works of art is embedded in the way in which people in the past used to deal with those works of art’.63 But on two points Warburg – although his conception bears some resemblance to the current exchange between art history and historical anthropology – takes a different course. The first point concerns the historical determination of the artifact, the concepts and terms by which it is conceived and the historically changing beauty value that is attributed to it. Hence his attention to the historical articulation of beauty and aesthetic experience, the so-called ‘Pathosformeln’. Secondly, his consistent focus on continuity and shifts in visual material in European culture.64 ‘But the most paradoxical and the most lasting result of Warburg’s refusal to consider the conventional approach to art in terms of style lies in the fact that he thereby opened a new era in the study of pictorial traditions. Far from taking influences and formulae for granted as most art historians had done, his discovery of these continuities struck him with a new force since they had not originally formed part of his preconceptions’.65 For Warburg, the Italian Renaissance was part of European cultural history, but not its center. 66 Ginzburg too emphasizes that Warburg’s interest in the Italian Renaissance is motivated by ‘the research into continuity, into its ruptures and the forms in which the classical tradition lives on’ – a description that is in line with the program of the later Warburg-Institute.67 Warburg’s publications cover the period from the fourteenth to the seventeenth century. Regionally, he does not limit himself to Italy (or Florence). He studied the production of art in the vicinity of Italian merchants in Bruges and the exchange between Northern and Southern Europe in the 15th century. He writes about the magic in Luther’s Germany, about the connection between mathematics and belief in the study of the heavenly firmament. Topics that were later elaborated by Frances Yates, affiliated with the WarburgInstitute.68 He lectures on Da Vinci, Dürer and Rembrandt, as well as on courtly carpets, 61 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 37. Gombrich 1986, p. 139. 63 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 240. 64 Gombrich 1986, p. 315. 65 Gombrich 1986, p. 309. 66 Gombrich is of a different opinion on this point. Completely in line with the post-war perspective he emphasizes that the renaissance for Warburg ‘was the visible expression of a supreme moment in human civilization – bordered on the one side by the barbarism of the bigoted Middle Ages and on the other by the deplorable excesses of Baroque rhetoric’. 67 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 68. 68 Halbertsma 1993, p. 88. 62 658 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 rituals and festivities. 69 These topics demonstrate that his conception of art history and the objects to be studied is unorthodox and avoids an ahistoric (aesthetic) approach to ‘art’ objects. ‘For though it was not only the content that interested Warburg’, Gombrich emphasizes, ‘it was the visual image rather than the work of art that he considered the document of human civilization. We have seen that sometimes he hardly appeared to differentiate between the design for a postage stamp and a great painting’. Which, however, does not mean, as Gombrich adds, that Warburg was not interested in the artistic form. 70 With the term ‘Pathosformeln’, Warburg indicates various aspects. First of all, this term demonstrates that images are part of a tradition. ‘Warburg’s approach included the idea that in every visual artifact a foreknowledge of a tradition of earlier artifacts was recognizable. If, however, each artifact already included a tradition of many other artifacts, a direct face-to-face confrontation with a work of art could not do justice to the traditionally determined content and form of the work. It was here that the problem of the interpretation of the significance of a visual artifact first arose: could it be understood as an unambiguous meaning limited to the identification of the figures and the subject, or did this signification have innumerable roots in a tradition, so that the work of art had to be seen as an echo chamber of complex resonances of significations? In the case of a Renaissance painting, one could wonder whether its significance was situated in the ancient heritage of ideas that were recognizable in it, or in the way in which this heritage was merged and integrated with Renaissance views. Such a painting revealed a process of signifying integration that could not be described by an unambiguous identification of figures and subject’.71 These are ‘visual constants’ that come from elsewhere and that can evoke ‘emotions’ in a new place, transfer ‘energy’ and generate new signifying connections. 72 These ‘visual constants’ can make their way through the history of art by means of concrete artefacts and can be recognized in nonartistic or trivial images.73 Furthermore, these ‘visual constants’ can be examined to find out how the process of visual formation and the formation of significance works. On the one hand such a ‘formal shape’ can be followed through time, in the sense that they remain recognizable despite changes or transformations. ‘The transformation of the image as such, rather than either content or form is regarded as symptomatic. We have seen that Warburg sometimes came close to endowing these images with a life of their own, that he was almost tempted to write the life history of mythical entities such as Perseus, or of expressive coinages such as the reclining river-god which haunted the mind of a man and could experience sublimation or degradation at the hands of artists. It is not always easy, as we have seen, to be sure in these accounts where the metaphor of survival ends for Warburg, and where a belief in an independent psychic life of these entities begins’.74 On the other hand, these changes stem from the fact that different types of rationality in European history are confronted with each other, leading to both integration and exclusion. Warburg, for example, investigates how astrological and scientific lines come together in a series of frescoes. The Italian Renaissance lends itself perfectly to such research. It is a place where, due to circumstances, ancient Pagan, Medieval Christian and Arab forms and imaginations interact in a short period of time. From the conceptual processing of these different registers, ‘new’ artefacts emerge. European history can be understood as a 69 For an overview of his (un)published work, see Gombrich 1986, pp. 339-347. Gombrich 1986, p. 317. 71 Vanbergen 1986, p. 19. 72 Warburg considers the images to be ‘loaded with energy’. Halbertsma 1993, p. 89. 73 Vanbergen 1986, p. 20. 74 Gombrich 1986, p. 315. 70 659 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 continuous repetition, rearrangement and reversal of such processes. The Italian Renaissance is no exception, but only one case in which this process can be easily explored. Finally, with this also Warburg’s interest in the pace of change has been touched upon. He speaks of ‘geprägte Formen’, as slowly changing ensembles, in which the artefacts appear. Van Huisstede places these ‘geprägte Formen’ in ‘a history of a slow rhythm’. They ‘form the background to accurately describe the diversity of what has happened in the past (in terms of the events that have taken place). Inherited forms are used, adapted, because applied in changed circumstances; in short, those influences should be carefully described as material causes for the emergence of works of art, while at the same time taking into account the toughness of already existing practices’.75 Although Warburg’s elaboration seems somewhat blurred, according to Van Huisstede it is first and foremost ‘a concept that enables the art historian to construct a meaningful historical counterpart on the basis of multiple rhythms of the times. Describing of what has actually happened involves taking an inventory of (as many) different concrete cases as possible, explained against the background of a cultural context’.76 The concept of the ‘geprägte Formen’ can therefore not be understood as a kind of ‘Zeitgeist’ which, like a magnetic field, causes all artefacts to point in the same direction in the same period of time. ‘In rejecting, or rather ignoring, the stylistic approach to the history of art, he had bypassed the main preoccupation of theoretical art history which stemmed ultimately from Winckelmann and Hegel, the problem of a uniform style being seen as an expression of an “age”. What all these systems had in common was the conception of the Zeitgeist expressing itself in parallel manifestations, art and Weltanschauung being the ones most frequently discussed in conjuction’.77 In Warburg’s case, it is rather a set of carved-in traces (it is not for nothing that he speaks in plural) that continuously works on the historical subsoil and that because of the events that present themselves can be emphasized in different ways (in doing so, he expresses his opinion on the layered nature of historical changes). 78 Warburg’s concept of history around 1900 shows similarities with what was formulated in the course of the twentieth century in the historical sciences. Gombrich has already pointed out certain similarities between Warburg’s conception of history and that of Nietzsche.79 At first sight resembling the current history of mentality because of the use of the then usual psychological terminology, Warburg’s work is mainly related to the history of knowledge as Foucault elaborated it, as Van Huisstede rightly remarked. ‘After all, all elements of Foucault’s historical methodology are already present in the same coherence in the methodology of Warburg in 1907’.80 Thus, for those who want to invest the current historicaltheoretical views in Warburg’s methodology, there are still many promises towards the elaboration of a cultural-historical discipline in which products of the early modern arts are studied both in their historical dimension and in their cultural context. 75 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 242. Van Huisstede 1992, p. 242. 77 Gombrich, 1986, p. 313. 78 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 241 refers to the work of the historian Paul Veyne (1978) with regard to the layering of time and its connection with the concept of ‘geprägte Formen’ (pronounced forms). 79 Gombrich 1986, p. 316. It would mainly be about Warburg’s attention to the Dyonisian elements in classical antiquity. However, he points to an important difference between Warburg and Nietzsche: ‘The main theme of Nietzsche’s Birth of Tragedy rests on the contrast he wished to establish between the visual arts on the one side and music and drama on the other. The visual arts – so Nietzsche thought – reflected the Apollonian side of the Greek soul (...); Warburg never accepted this dichotomy. On the contrary, his interest was entirely concentrated on the Dionisiac elements in Graeco-Roman sarcophagi and victory monuments’. 80 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 244. 76 660 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 To some extent, the development of Warburg’s program is also the task of one of the most famous art-historical institutes, the Warburg Institute. It was founded on the basis of the library set up by Warburg in Hamburg, which was established in London under the leadership of Fritz Saxl after the Nazis seized power in 1933.81 The most prominent art historians still publish in the magazine published there. However, it is widely believed that Warburg’s proposal has left hardly any traces. 82 One of the reasons may be the fact that Warburg has not elaborated his views into a systematic theory. 83 The systematization of his ideas is the work of other authors.84 However, there were also some developments that occurred after the death of Warburg (in 1929). These twists have distracted the art-historical discipline (including the history of architecture) further and further from his project and have even brought about a methodical reversal. The next chapter [5.2.2.] will be devoted to the development of the art historical discipline after Warburg and in particular to some important representatives of this discipline: Erwin Panofsky, Rudolf Wittkower and Ernst Gombrich. 81 Emmens 1981-II, p. 125. Van Huisstede 1992, p. 244. On p. iv he refers to quotations from Saxl (1930), Gombrich (1970), Warnke (1980) and Podro (1982). 83 Vanbergen 1986, p. 20. 84 Particularly by authors such as Saxl, Wind and Bing. See Ginzburg 1988A and Gombrich 1986. 82 661 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 References Alpers, S. (1979), ‘Style is What You Make It: The Visual Arts Once Again (1979)’, B. Lang (ed.), The concept of style. Ithaca/ London, pp. 137-162. Bauer, H. (1976), Kunsthistorik. Eine kritische Einführung in das Studium der Kunstgeschichte. München. Becker, J. (1993), ‘De betekenis van wapperende gewaden’, in: Kunstschrift (1993), 6, pp. 38-44. Benjamin, W. (1936/ 1985), Het kunstwerk in het tijdperk van zijn technische reproduceerbaarheid. Nijmegen. Bruyn, J. (1988), ‘Recensie van Max Dvorák, The history of Art as the history of ideas’, Theoretische geschiedenis (1988), 15, pp. 398-401. Damisch, H. (1975), ‘Semiotics and iconography’, T.A. Sebeok (ed.), The Tell-Tale Sign. A Survey of Semiotics. Lisse, pp. 27-36. De Jongh, E., (1992A) ‘De iconologische benadering van de zeventiende-eeuwse Nederlandse schilderkunst’, F. Grijzenhout & H. van Veen (ed.), De Gouden eeuw in perspectief. Het beeld van de Nederlandse zeventiende-eeuwse schilderkunst in later tijd. Nijmegen, pp. 299-329. De Jongh, E. (1992B), ‘De Nederlandse zeventiende-eeuwse schilderkunst door politieke brillen’, F. Grijzenhout & H. van Veen (ed.), De Gouden eeuw in perspectief. Nijmegen/ Heerlen, pp. 225-250. Dekker, T., H. Roodenburg & G. Rooijakkers (ed.) (2000), Volkscultuur. Een inleiding in de Nederlandse etnologie. Nijmegen. Emmens, J.A., ‘Erwin Panofsky as a humanist (1967)’, J.A. Emmens, Kunsthistorische opstellen II. Amsterdam 1981-II, pp. 125-131. Emmens, J.A. (1981), Kunsthistorische opstellen II. Amsterdam. Falkenburg, R. (1993), ‘Iconologie en historische antropologie: een toenadering’, M. Halbertsma & K. Zijlmans (ed.), Gezichtspunten. Nijmegen, pp. 139-174. Ginzburg, C. (1998A), ‘Van Aby Warburg tot Ernst Hans Gombrich. Aantekeningen bij een methodisch vraagstuk (1966)’, C. Ginzburg, Omweg als methode. Nijmegen, pp. 67-149. Gombrich, E.H. (1986), Aby Warburg. An intellectual biography. London. Halbertsma, M. (1985), Wilhelm Pinder en de Duitse kunstgeschiedenis. Groningen. Halbertsma, M. (1993), ‘De geschiedenis van de kunstgeschiedenis in de Duitssprekende landen en Nederland van 1764 tot 1933’, M. Halbertsma & K. Zijlmans (ed.), Gezichtspunten. Nijmegen, pp. 45-102. Halbertsma M.& K. Zijlmans (ed.) (1933), Gezichtspunten. Nijmegen. Hasenmüller, C. (1997/78), ‘Panofsky, iconography and semiotics’, Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism (1977/78), 36, pp. 289-301. Hecht, P. (1997), Over Rembrandt, Manet en het tweede leven van de kunst. Utrecht. Hecht, P., C. Stolwijk & A. Hoogenboom (ed.) (1998), Kunstgeschiedenis in Nederland. Negen opstellen. Amsterdam. Holly, M.A. (1984), Panofsky and the Foundations of Art History. Ithaca/ London. Huizinga, J. (1949B), ‘Een cultuurwetenschappelijk laboratorium (1933)’, J. Huizinga, Verzamelde Werken. IV. Haarlem, pp. 556-560. Kleinbauer, W.E. (1971), Modern Perspectives in Western Art History. An Anthology of 20th-century Writings on the Visual Arts. New York. Moxey, K. (1985/6), ‘Panofsky’s concept of “iconology” and the problem of interpretation in the history of art’, New Literary History (1985/86), 17, pp. 265-274. Moxey, K.P.F. (1991), ‘Semiotics and the social history of art’, New Literary History (1991), 22, pp. 985-999. Moxey, K. (1994), The Practice of Theory. Poststructuralism, Cultural Politics, and Art History. New York. Nelson, R.S. & R. Shiff (ed.) (1996), Critical Terms for Art History. Chicago/ London. Panofsky, E. (1955B), ‘Three Decades of Art History in the United States: Impressions of a Transplanted European’, E. Panofsky, Meaning in the Visual arts. Papers in and on Art History. New York, pp. 321346. Podro, M. (1992), The critical historians of art. New Haven/ London 1982. Preziosi, D. (1989), Rethinking Art History. Meditations on a coy science. New Haven/ London. Reijnders, F. (1984), Kunst - geschiedenis. Verschijnen en verdwijnen. Amsterdam. Van Berkel, K. (1986), Renaissance der cultuurwetenschap. Leiden. Van Huisstede, P. (1992), De Mnemosyne beeldatlas van Aby M. Warburg. Een laboratorium voor beeldgeschiedenis. Leiden. Van Mechelen, M. (1993), Vorm en betekening. Kunstgeschiedenis, semiotiek, semanalyse. Nijmegen. Vanbergen, J. (1986), Voorstelling en betekenis. Theorie van de kunsthistorische interpretatie. Assen/ Maastricht. Warburg, A.M. (1920), ‘Heidnisch-antike Weissagung im Wort und Bild zu Luthers Zeiten’, D. Wuttke (ed.), Aby M. Warburg. Ausgewählte Schriften und Würdigungen. Baden-Baden 1979C, pp. 199-303. 662 

Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Chapter 5.2.4. Plato and the Dutch Art and Architectural History Plato, who established once and for all the metaphysical meaning and value of the beautiful, and whose doctrine of Ideas has become even more important for the aesthetics of the representational arts, was nevertheless unable to do full justice to these representational arts themselves. To be sure, it would be going to far to say that Plato’s philosophy is simply opposed to art as such or that it summarily denies the painter or sculptor the ability to envision Ideas. As Plato distinguished between genuine and false, legitimate and illegitimate practices in every area of life – especially in the field of philosophy itself – he occasionally contrasted, when speaking of the representational arts, the much-maligned practitioners of mimètichè technè (imitative representation), who know how to render only the sensory appearances of the material world, with those artists who, insofar as possible in activities limited to empirical reality, try to do justice to Idea in their works and whose labors may even serve as a paradigm for those of the lawgiver. (...) But despite these and similar statements one is still justified in characterizing Plato’s philosophy as, if not exactly hostile, at least indifferent to or unfamiliar with art, and it is understandable that practically all later philosophers, especially Plotinus, understood Plato’s countless attack on the “mimetic arts” to be wholesale condemnation of representational art as such. Erwin Panofsky 1968 (1924), Idea. A Concept in Art Theory, pp. 3-4. From the end of the sixties onwards, the scholarly disciplines involved in cultural products were in turmoil. The history of art and architecture experienced the repercussions of shifts in academia that were of a much more general nature. Different approaches in linguistics, Marxism, semiotics, psychoanalysis, feminism and anthropology led to unorthodox approaches to visual and textual material. There was a great deal of enthusiasm for retrieving, re-reading and recirculating scientific opinions from the early twentieth century – the structural linguistics of Ferdinand de Saussure, Russian formalism, the structuralism of the Prague School (Hjelsmlev), but also the thinking of Sigmund Freud, Walter Benjamin and Bertold Brecht. In literary theory, these innovations had already been introduced in the course of the 1960s, often building directly on approaches from the beginning of the twentieth century. Literature was investigated as the product of a signifying process. Narratology, the insertion of the subject-reader in the text, the literary or poetic function as an effect of the structure, the genre conventions, the intertextual relations between literary works, but also the ‘reality effect’, the historical-social context and the gender connotations, all this became the object of research. The literary text was thus given its own materiality with its own analyzable structure.1 In art history, renewal came in several waves: art as part of a socio-economic history, followed at a later stage by ‘the linguistic turn’. All this led on the one hand to a different approach to the traditional arts (paintings were studied as ‘text’ or ‘beeldideologie’ [image ideology, visual ideology].2 On the other hand, it stimulated research into new objects such as film, photography and advertising that fell outside traditional art history. 3 Partly 1. Van Dijk 1970; Bronzwaer 1977; Fokkema 1992; Van Alphen 1991; Bal 1994; Meijer 1996; Van Gemert 1996. 2. Antal 1948; Hauser 1975; Berger 1974; Hadjinicolaou 1977; Claes 1979; Althusser 1980; Bryson 1983. For an overview of the various art historical approaches since then see Rees 1986, Halbertsma & Zijlmans 1993. 3. Like the work of John Berger from 1974. 1 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 because of this, a field like film studies could emerge in which new developments were brought in: cinema was thought in terms of sign and structure, ideology and subject, power and desire, code and grammar, communication and message, denotation and connotation. Both Lévi-Strauss’ anthropology, Freudian and Lacanian psychoanalysis as well as semiotics (De Saussure, Peirce, Eco, Kristeva and Barthes), and Marxism and Feminism were incorporated into film studies.4 From the 1960s onwards, architectural history also proved susceptible to these changes. People talked about the city as text, the architectural language, semiotics and urbanism, the language of architectural production, syntax, myth, architectural grammar, codes, ideology, discourse, meaning, semantics, speech and speechlessness. 5 Thus, the traditional field in which the arts are studied, each in its own compartment, has been extended with new fields, such as film studies, which now have a respectable tradition. At the same time, interdisciplinarity as a scholarly habit has become so established that the disciplinary dividing lines hardly seem to matter anymore. The latest sprout of this paradoxical development is ‘visual culture studies’ in which one claims one’s own research object, but at the same time (following the example of the ‘cultural studies’) one opens up all disciplinary boundaries and not infrequently proceeds in a distinctly ahistorical manner.6 These kinds of modernizations have had a considerable impact on traditional ‘art’ histories – irrespective of their possible scientific (in)correctness – and therefore aroused a lot of resistance. 7 In order to understand how this intellectual body of thought worked in the Netherlands, one has to keep in mind that disciplines such as art and architectural history went through a crisis in the 1970s. The tone of publications and conferences indicates a clear unease. The frequent use of terms such as ‘method struggle’ and ‘criticism’ also point to this. Alarming titles appear like ‘Crisis van het architectonisch object en crisis van de geschiedenis’ [Crisis of the architectural object and crisis of history] (1975), ‘De krisis van de esthetiese vorm’ [The crisis of the aesthetic form] (1978), ‘Kunstgeschiedenis, wetenschap of kritiek’ [Art History, Science or Criticism] (1978).8 This had already been observed in the history of literature, as evidenced by Marijke Spies’ 1973 article ‘De krisis in de historische neerlandistiek’ [The crisis in the Dutch literary history]. Spies then observed that, given the conflicting scientific conceptions and especially the fierce incomprehension that accompanied it, and although people were not thinking in terms of a ‘crisis’ and ‘paradigm shift’, the signs did point in that direction. ‘Extra painful point here is that those who are used to working within a formerly generally accepted paradigm are not trained in conducting fundamental discussions and, as 4. Rohdie 1976; Coward 1977; Metz 1980A; Van Driel & Staat 1987; Van Driel & Westermann 1991; Poppe 1984; Heath 1981; MacCabe 1985A, B; Mulvey 1986. For an overview see Stam 2000. 5. Broadbent 1987A, B; Carlini & Schneider 1976A, B; Choay 1976; Rossi 1985; Tafuri 1980; Graafland 1986. 6. Walker & Chaplin 1997, p. 3. 7. For art history see Bruyn 1985, 1986B, 1991B, 1996; De Jongh 1992D and 1995A; Miedema 1992, p. 337, 1993. 8. See the IKON conferences ‘Kunstgeschiedenis tussen liefhebberij en maatschappij’ [Art history between hobby and society] (1974), ‘De tijd is rijp voor een nieuwe methodenstrijd’ [The time is ripe for a new methodological battle] (1977) and the symposium ‘Kunstgeschiedenis, wetenschap of kritiek?’[Art history, science or criticism?] (1978). See for an overview De Mare & Vos 1993. Something similar happened in the history of architecture, with the conference ‘Architectural History, a Social Science?’ (1977). See also Barbieri et al. 1975; Müller 1978A, B and C. For an overview see Boasson & Giersbergen 1986. 2 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 long as the doubt about that paradigm has not affected them, have no need for it’. And a little further on her conclusion is: ‘Since fruitful research is only possible within a field of science defined by an accepted paradigm and a defined standard of scientific acceptability, the various schools can hardly, if at all, recognize each other’s results as scientifically acceptable. It follows from this that neither the different theories nor the concrete research results can really complement each other’.9 It is remarkable that these crisis experiences in various disciplines do not occur at the same time, are not interpreted in the same way and are not dealt with in the same way. In this paragraph, however, I will not attempt to outline this general climate. Others have already done so extensively and with great expertise. 10 My main concern here is the way in which the Dutch art and architectural historians of the early modern period have recently moved – or sometimes not – on these international waves. I discuss two dominant and seemingly very diverse trends to which my research relates: the iconology of (genre) painting and the historiography of architecture as a science. The popularity of the iconological interpretation of Dutch genre painting dates back to the late 1960s.11 With Zinne- en Minnebeelden by De Jongh (1967) a development started that has grown into the interpretation of Dutch painting. Through major exhibitions such as Tot lering en vermaak (1976), Portretten van Echt en Trouw (1986) and Spiegel van alledag (1997), through the many publications of an expanding group of iconologists, this interpretation of Dutch seventeenth-century genre painting slowly but surely became dominant. 12 Iconology presented itself as a scientific, rationalist-objective method that replaced the associative aesthetic-formalist approach of the nineteenth century. This latter approach saw genre painting as a mere registration of historical reality of the Dutch seventeenth century. Relying on Panofsky’s reading of Italian Renaissance art – which considered knowledge of intellectual and literary-humanist ideas indispensable when interpreting the themes and motifs in a painting – Dutch iconologists were able to decode the deeper literary content of the apparently ordinary paintings. Incidentally, De Jongh in particular always emphasizes his critical attitude towards Panofsky.13 With the help of an extensive and differentiated collection of literary 9. Spies 1973-1974, pp. 495-496. Halbertsma & Zijlmans 1993. 11. To the circle of iconologists in the Netherlands I count not only those who have named their work as such, but also art historians who have intervened in the Dutch ‘realism’ debate and who have defended the iconology of the last thirty years as the scientific method par excellence in art history. See De Mare 1997A. 12. But also other exhibitions such as Dageraad der Gouden Eeuw [Dawn of the Golden Age] 1994, Judith Leyster 1994, the major Vermeer exhibitions 1996, Jan Steen, schilder en verteller [Jan Steen, painter and storyteller] 1998 have supported this concept. Collective collections (Freedberg 1991; Franits 1997) and the Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek [Netherlandish Yearbook for the History of Art] regularly devoted to seventeenth-century Dutch art, have also confirmed this idea. 13. De Jongh 1995A, p. 19: ‘I appreciate mentioning his name, partly to clear up a misunderstanding. In some comments, the method of interpretation I followed has been described as more or less pure panofskian. With all due respect to the great master, whose inspiration in a general sense is beyond dispute, I would like to disprove this characterization somewhat’. 10. 3 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 sources and word-image combinations (such as emblems), the content of many paintings has now been traced. Iconologists have been supported in their approach by literary historians. Porteman (1984), for example, endorses the iconological view that it is wrong to approach a painting primarily ‘as an image’. More correct is to look for ideas in the image that are consistent with those from contemporary literature. ‘Generally speaking,’ he writes, ‘in the scientific study of art, as opposed to nineteenth-century observationalism, there has developed a preference for the approach to the earlier visual arts as the bearer of a reasoned, readable and summable content, which would have participated in the ideas that were also active in literature’.14 He rejects an approach that examines the rules of historical ‘picturing’, as for example art historian Svetlana Alpers advocates.15 This support from historical literature is obvious, of course. In an iconological approach, seventeenth-century literature was given the important task of giving meaning to the visual arts of the time. A situation that differed from decades before when literature (according to Brom, for example) was given a much lesser place compared to the visual arts. 16 Via the literary production of the Golden Age it became possible to replace the nineteenth-century interpretation of triviality with a vision in which the Dutch arts were given the same intellectual-humanist caliber as their Italian predecessors. With this, ‘the widely spread insight that learned art was essentially alien (so completely different from real Dutch art that was considered uncomplicated and occurred from pure enjoyment of painting)’ was forever overcome and so iconology finally opened people’s eyes.17 De Jongh in particular has always propagated this attitude. In several articles he has referred to the ‘resistance’ to iconology as some form of nationalism. According to him, representatives of this nationalism – nowadays not infrequently foreigners like Alpers and Schama – are in search of the essence of Dutch art. 18 ‘Nationalism turns out to be a remarkable constant in many writings, marginally or significantly, and it would be easy to collect a long list of eloquent quotations about the connection between art and nationalism’.19 14. Porteman 1984A, p. 95. Alpers 1983, p. 26. 16. Brom 1957. 17. De Jongh 1992C, p. 72. And in De Jongh 1990/1991, p. 203: ‘Nationalism in art history, the implicit or explicit emphasis on native artistic identity, often with an associated revulsion from things foreign, have not been considered de bon ton by Dutch art historians for quite some time now. (...) On this point it strikes me as important that nationalism had in the meantime been subjected to severe examination, particularly nationalism in its more extreme form – the unbridled overevaluation of the nation, faith in its superiority, especially as administered by National Socialism and fascism, plus the catastrophic results that that had led to.’ 18. De Jongh 1990/1991, 1992B, C; a similar position is defended by Veldman 1990/1991, pp. 124-126. 19. De Jongh 1992C, pp. 61-62. See also De Jongh 1990/1991 and 1992A. Instead of providing a thorough analysis of the (nationalist, xenophobic, National Socialist) statements that have been made about Dutch art in the past (analogous, for example, to the current reflection on the way in which ‘popular culture’ has been thought about in the past by Dekker et al. 2000, Dekker 2000 and Roodenburg 2000), his description primarily serves a rhetorical purpose in defending iconology as scientifically (historically, objectively) correct. Terms that De Jongh loosely strings together are, for example: ‘typically Dutch, ‘precisely not typically Dutch’, ‘less pure’, ‘”the patriotic feeling”’, ‘it showed alien – foreign – traits’, ‘national feeling’, ‘nationalism’, ‘predilection for the national’, ‘a substitute-chauvinist character’, 'the so-called Dutch folk character’, ‘Blut und Boden doctrine’, ‘discriminatory principle’, ‘kind of grand-Germanic thought’, ‘colored views’, ‘nationalistic view of that art’, ‘suspicious’, ‘question of own and foreign’, ‘prejudice against art that in form and style was not free from foreign taint’, ‘learned art was essentially alien’,’'demonstrated their aversion to allegories and mythological 15. 4 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 He thus generally criticizes all those nineteenth- and twentieth-century authors who did not want to see Dutch painting as a descendant of Italian art. ‘There is a long series of writings analyzing this phenomenon, by historians such as Fruin, Kern, Romein, Rüter and, of course, Huizinga, as well as sociologists, psychologists and folklorists, writings in some of which the authors inevitably slipped into the Blut und Boden doctrine and which are often characterized by a strongly holistic way of thinking. That national art, which was after all so thoroughly realistic, was a pure reflection of the popular character, which in turn was partly determined by climate, landscape and natural resources, was actually quite self-evident for writers with a holistic view of the world’.20 Iconology wanted to distance itself from all that and to present itself as an objective science that could do justice to Dutch genre painting by naming it a scholarly and meaningful counterpart of Italian Renaissance history painting. This art historical line of thought can be elucidated in particular by the work of Hessel Miedema. The importance of his contribution to art-historical knowledge was amply demonstrated, in particular in Chapter 4. His work has proved to be relevant in many respects. In the context of the present section I am concerned only with the reserved attitude towards the image as a visual phenomenon that is strongly expressed in his work (as is the case with almost all iconologists). On several occasions he has explicitly advocated a literary interpretation of historical images. He approached both ‘seventeenth-century art theory’ and image production from the point of view of the elitist ‘litterator’ or the ‘learned humanist’. Furthermore, he borrowed a lot from ‘text linguistics’.21 To him, the meaning of an image is its literal content, which, incidentally, can vary from one viewer to another. This view corresponds to the primacy he – following postwar Panofsky – ascribes to reading images on the basis of texts. ‘No one has demonstrated more clearly than Panofsky how much text and image are interwoven. Images can be interpreted with the help of texts; texts can be better understood in their implications with the help of images. Panofsky’s stimulating demonstrations quickly made the new iconographic discipline that arose in the Warburg School popular, which was based on the combination of texts and images and which was baptized very self-consciously as iconology’.22 Miedema places great emphasis on the Neoplatonic idealism as Panofsky had elaborated in several articles. ‘In scholastic philosophy, which was common in the Netherlands until the end of the fifteenth century, the whole world, the whole creation, was seen as a metaphorical expression of the intentions of the Creator. So, every animal, every thing, every fact could, except literally, be interpreted allegorically and morally in different ways. By the way, this view did not disappear with what we call the Renaissance: also the complex of ideas of what is roughly described as Neoplatonism, a complex that rose especially in the sixteenth century, saw the representations wrought by Dutch artists’, ‘aversion to Dutch history painting in general’, ‘these categories considered so un-Dutch’, ‘the constancy of the national in our culture’, ‘art reviews that were on National Socialist lines’, ‘the allergy to the foreign’, ‘the chosen terminology possesses a distinct color’, ‘somewhat painful’, ‘propaganda for the wrong blood and the wrong soil’, ‘a disease that had affected our national civilization’, ‘unscientific and unhistorical attitude’, ‘nationalism, the implicit or explicit emphasis on one’s own artistic identity’, ‘foreigners (. ...) who went in search of the typically Dutch in Dutch art and culture. And so on and so forth. 20. De Jongh 1992C, p. 65. Idem De Jongh 1990A, 1991 and 1992A. 21. Miedema 1984, p. 10. 22. Miedema 1984, p. 7. 5 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 world as a visible expression of ideas that had lain dormant in the Creator’s bosom until they were realized in creation. Hieroglyphic and emblematic phenomena fitted perfectly into this idealism’.23 Miedema thus regarded the visual materiality of paintings primarily as derived from ‘literary topics’ or as an expression of an idea: ‘the art of around 1600 is as full of content, and is as informative and didactic (“moralizing” if you like) as the art which preceded it’.24 He calls the emblem ‘an almost purely literary artform in which a conglomerate of half quotations, allusions to hieroglyphic readable images, suggestive variants and striking reversals of meaning providing an unbelievably serrated complex of associative information’.25 Miedema later not only repeated this view several times, but also put it into practice. 26 In this way he treats Van Mander’s writings primarily as a rhetorical poem that circulated in a learned circle. In his view, the actual subject of the poem is of secondary importance: the making of painting, the pigments, the paint substances, color and light are, according to him, practical-technical matters that do not really belong in such a poetic-rhetorical text.27 ‘For Van Mander it is so self-evident that there is no question of comparison. For him, “Poesy”, “poetery” is the expression of abstract ideas (“Uytbeeldinge der Figueren”) by means of an image; usually an allegory, a personification, preferably on a mythological basis; thus, according to the old French rhetorical tradition, with a hint of Italian Neo-Platonism. Whether it’s expressed in words or in paint, that’s completely equivalent’. According to Miedema, then, Van Mander’s writing has very little useful to say about learning to paint (“practice”). In addition to paintings, prints and other visual works of art, Miedema also considers Nature from a platonic point of view. 28 ‘By now, of course, it has become almost unnecessary to point out that naturalness was always understood to refer to intrinsic Nature, the character, the nature of things. That this does not refer, first and foremost, to a visible world which was to be depicted in paintings is clear (...) In fact Nature, in the sixteenth century, was not always and automatically identical to the empirically visible world which we are in the habit of calling “nature”. I have already referred (...), to the Neoplatonic concept of the difference between the ideal intentions of Nature and the not always entirely successful results of her creations – a difference which was held to be due to the refractoriness of earthly matter. This, like so many Neoplatonic concepts, gained wide currency in the sixteenth century. It is for that very reason that sixteenth-century art does not need to conform to outward appearance to be in agreement with “Nature”, the nature of the theme. (...) What was important was not so much the externals of visible things as the rules behind them. (...) the essence of life and Nature could not be learned primarily by looking at external things. On the contrary, that essence could only be learned from theoretical instruction. For it was only when the artist properly understood the essence of things that he was capable of producing a significant work of art which was an ideal imitation of the Creation, or of part of it. Elsewhere I have called 23. Miedema 1989A, p. 103. Miedema 1977, p. 219. 25. Miedema 1984, p. 10. 26. Miedema 1991B, p. 72: ‘When I re-read Panofsky’s texts repeatedly and critically, it strikes me that everything can already be found in these texts’. 27. Miedema 1995, p. 77. 28. Miedema 1989A, pp. 201-202. 24. 6 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 this a synthetic micro-microcosm, which was designed to serve as an instructional model for demonstrating the true nature of the Creation’.29 Miedema thus views the image with a certain suspicion, especially when a highquality meaning or educational content is lacking. Only the uneducated people would be captured by a ‘scene that looked nice’.30 Furthermore, according to him, only art historians who are guided by their emotions take the visual factors of an image seriously.31 He observes an ‘aversion of the stylists to the supremacy of the readable, “literary” content’.32 Miedema’s eye is here mainly focused on American art historians. He speaks of ‘a rather fierce antiliterary, and even anti-intellectual tendency that occurred in the early twentieth century in the appreciation of visual art. This tendency, which emphasizes the direct, empathic impression that the work of art makes on the viewer, is revived here and there, especially among contemporary American art historians’.33 A Dutch art historian who, according to him, is also guilty of this is Rudi Fuchs. His comparison of a work by Vermeer with a work by Mondriaan would – according to Miedema –stem from ‘personal feelings’.34 About Fuchs discussion of ‘Lot and his daughters’ (Guttuso, 1968) and ‘The black square’ (Malevich, 1929) Miedema remarks: ‘Fuchs says nothing about the content of both paintings. Together with Riegl and Otto Pächt, he believes that the readable content of a work of art is not its essence and that there is no need to talk about it. That is probably also the reason why he likes Malewich’s black square so much: because it represents nothing and therefore has nothing superfluous in his view’.35 Various art historians have addressed Miedema's views on the image, on the art of painting and on his confusion between the structure of a treatise and the treated material. In her article ‘Taking Pictures seriously’ (1978), Svetlana Alpers already expressed her amazement at Miedema’s aversion to images as an art historian: ‘... Miedema not only treats texts as the basis for our understanding of images (deciphering is his term) but assumes that they are themselves capable of being finally and unambiguous understood. Both of these views have serious implications for our looking at and understanding of pictures (...) I am not as bothered as Miedema is by the spectre of realism, perhaps because I am not as bothered as he is by the images. It does not involve a naive view of realism to see that seventeenthcentury Dutch images, for example (paintings as well as prints), like a number of earlier northern images, are more concerned with describing people, places and some ordinary activities in a society – often indeed concerned with recording the surface of the seen world – than, shall we say pictures by artists working in the Italian tradition. Landscapes, maps, city views, insects or a drop of water seen through a lens, house interiors, burghers’ families or the 29. Miedema 1978-1979, p. 31. Miedema 1984, p. 10; idem Miedema 1989A, pp. 103-104. 31. See his criticism of Fuchs, but also, for example, of Alpers. Miedema 1977, pp. 206-207 repeatedly speaks of ‘affective values’, ‘feelings’, ‘emotional experience’ and on p. 218: ‘Einfühlung’, ‘over-evaluation of sensual observation’, ‘of experiencing the object emotionally’, matters which, in his view, distorts the true insight, leads to ‘a false in the exercise of his discipline’ and not to ‘intellectual comprehension of the subject’ and thus to ‘suppression of the decipherable content’. 32. Miedema 1989A, p. 108, 33. 33. Miedema 1989A, p. 108. 34. Miedema 1989A, pp. 139-143: ‘the satisfaction he finds personally’, ‘can be of great personal value to someone’, ‘personal feelings one can have when looking at’, ‘feelings that can be intensified’ (p. 142). 35. Miedema 1989A, p. 171. 30. 7 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 peasants with which I was concerned, all this and more comes within the purview of the image-maker in the Netherlands. At issue is not are they or are they not real – the question in this form hardly makes sense – but how such images were made, functioned, served, were valued and perceived in the society. (...) Miedema seems so bothered by the spectre of a naive realism that his answer to these questions is repeatedly that image function as ideas do, or specifically like the moralistic texts he takes all renaissance writings to be. One could not deny that images are informed by texts. (..) But I do not recommend, as Miedema does, that we look right through the surface or even do not look at pictures at all – a strange posture for an historian of art!’36 Afterwards, other art historians also strongly condemned Miedema’s interpretation of the image as text and of Dutch painting according to Italian standards. Melion, who also studied Van Mander’s writings, remarked the following about Miedema’s lecture: ‘Miedema provides the philological apparatus through which the history of Van Mander’s terms can be evaluated, and in this respect his book is invaluable. However, he circumscribes too rigorously the critical ambition and scope of the “Groundwork”, measuring it in terms of the Florentine critical categories that I believe it inflects. Implicit in Miedema’s work is the conviction of the primacy of the text; he reads Van Mander’s discourse on art as if it were a poetics, and he argues the notion that the “Groundwork” subscribes to the doctrine ut pictura poesis. His reliance on Italian theory, and his attempts to accommodate Van Mander within it, are consequences of his familiarity with its rhetorical basis. Because he believes that the “Groundwork” is addressed both to poets and painters, and that Van Mander’s cultural authority depends ultimately on his poetry, he asserts that the text’s primary aim is the institution of painting as a liberal art’.37 Finally, Van den Akker rightly points out that Miedema, in his interpretation of Alberti’s treatise on painting, fails to make a distinction between the organizing structure of knowledge and the subjects discussed. ‘Certainly’, he writes in 1992, Alberti ‘made use of his knowledge of rhetoric, among other things, when writing. That’s the packaging. But in terms of content Della Pittura deals with artistic problems that became topical in his time in professional painting, such as (learning to) make realistic and varied figures’.38 Strange as it may be, the enormous success of this interpretation method, based on visual mistrust, made ‘further methodological reflection in art history’ superfluous’.39 ‘This iconological approach was, as everyone knows, extraordinarily successful’, Van de Wetering, too, had to conclude. ‘So much so that many have come to live with the feeling that the raison d'être of such paintings at the time of their creation, must have been the meaning of the representation’.40 While the international academic world began to reorient itself from the 1960s onwards, crossing disciplinary boundaries and tried-and-tested interdisciplinary exchange, Dutch iconology turned inwards by concentrating on a single post-war text by Panofsky and making it operational for Dutch genre art. In doing so, the Dutch iconologists erased the nuances and ambivalences that characterize Panofsky’s work, as well as the 36. Alpers 1978B, pp. 48-49. Melion 1991, p. xxi. 38. Van den Akker 1992, p. 351. 39. Vanbergen 1990, p. 73; Vanbergen 1986. 40. Van de Wetering 1993B, p. 30. 37. 8 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 historical genealogy of his work. ‘Panofsky’ has become a format in which thoughts about the early modern word and image are channeled and with which genre images can be brought to speech.41 This orthodox attitude has little in common with the broad, rich and ambiguous line of thought that this German scholar developed himself and that has also been recognized by others.42 All this may explain why the Dutch iconologists had little need for the international developments that emerged in the course of the 1980s. Still in the 1990s people reacted with dismay to the ‘post-Marxist, post-Freudian and sundry other ideas deriving from the social sciences which are foisted upon our seventeenth-century forefathers’.43 In recent years, people have been overwhelmed by the results of thirty years of debate in the fields of art, culture and history. One stands empty-handed and has as only weapons the sharp tongue, the biting mockery and the denigrating rhetoric. 44 In any case, the publication of The Art of Describing by Svetlana Alpers in 1983 seems to be a traumatic experience for them. Because she calls attention to the visual character of historical image material, not only is the ‘splendid isolation’ of the Dutch iconology quite suddenly broken, but the platonic foundations of the iconological principles in particular are called into question. 45 In her interpretation, this American art historian made explicit use of the interdisciplinary innovations that had taken place in the 1960s. From that moment on, Dutch iconological publications speak of ‘methodological struggle’and ‘crisis’, a confusion that attracts international attention. 46 Norman Bryson (1990) speaks of ‘a conflict about Dutch art that is currently going on within art historical science between pan-allegorists and the anti-allegorists’.47 And a year later, Ivan Gaskell writes the following about ‘a vigorous debate’ among Dutch art historians: ‘This debate demonstrated that speculation on superseded cognitive processes can be more controversial than seeking to elucidate the original pictorial meaning of individual works by comparing visual images with each other and with contemporary texts, a procedure which is now art-historically orthodox amongst academics, even if not amongst museum and art-market staff’.48 The crisis in the history of architecture also announced itself in the 1970s but took a different course. This crisis was related to the question of the actual object of this discipline. They wanted to break with the art-historical discipline of which the history of architecture had long been a part. In an article from 1986 about the place of the discipline within academic art history and within the architectural education of the technical universities, Boasson and Van Giersbergen wrote: ‘The stylistic history so far prevalent was felt to be too limited for the emerging awareness that architecture cannot be seen separately from its social and cultural context. Opinions differed on the path architectural history should take and the discussions 41. For an overview of the standard way of thinking, see Franits 1997, pp. 1-3. Holly 1984, but also beyond, like Bourdieu and Lévi-Strauss. 43. Bruyn 1996, p. 99. 44. For Miedema see his discussions of the work of others: Miedema 1969 (Emmens), Miedema 1974 (Boschloo), Miedema 1977 (Alpers), Miedema 1991B (Bedaux), Miedema 1992 (Van den Akker), Miedema 1993 (Melion), Miedema 1994B (Müller). For De Jongh see e.g. 1984, 1990B, 1992B, C and D, 1993, 1995A, 1996B, 1998. 45. De Jongh 1992C, p. 79. 46. De Jongh 1992C, p. 79; De Jongh 1995A, p. 13. 47. Bryson 1993, p. 118. 48. Gaskell 1991, p. 184. Earlier (1984), in a review on Alpers’ book, he talked about a ‘gettho of Dutch art history’. 42. 9 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 revolved mainly around the question of whether or not architecture can be regarded as an autonomous phenomenon with its own history’.49 Architectural history, as was still observed in the 1980s, lacked a clear function. 50 The solution that could guarantee the continued existence of this profession was sought in combining a historical question with a current design practice. New questions and new concepts, new forms of analysis and new tasks could result from this link.51 The architectural historian Ed Taverne in particular argued for this many times. In 1977 he wrote the following about the task of the architectural historian: ‘Within scientific research, within historical studies, questions can be asked and problems initiated whose solutions can be useful for contemporary architectural discourse, which after all includes issues related to urban renewal and historic preservation. Secondly, the historian can make a contribution by critically and theoretically underpinning these partial aspects of contemporary building within the overall framework of thinking about spatial planning. However, from the point of view of the historian, I consider these tasks to be of secondary importance compared to the important (...) task of rereading the history of architecture from the current state of architectural design, and conversely, from history, criticizing and analyzing the major themes of contemporary building in all its facets’.52 A few years later, in 1981, however, Taverne is relativizing this position: ‘The historian, who works in the practical field of monument conservation and urban renewal, runs the risk, in his zeal to collect, interpret and make relevant all kinds of historical data and representations, of isolating himself in a subordinate position as a documentalist who has been operatively hired as a historian to serve the plan’.53 In these years, the Dutch debate was not so much conducted within academic architectural history (as a branch of art history), but between architectural historians and architectural engineers who wanted to use architectural history for current design practice. They focused on the ‘historical criticism’ as practiced by architectural historians in Venice since the 1960s, whereby the separation between historians and designers was dissolved and the concepts were grafted onto the current building and design process.54 In doing so, the ‘historical criticism’ distanced itself from the ‘operative’ criticism, a form of historiography that in the first half of the twentieth century served to legitimize the revolutionary striving of the historical avant-gardes.55 ‘What is normally meant by operative criticism is an analysis of architecture (or of the arts in general) that, instead of an abstract survey, has as its objective the planning of a precise poetical tendency, anticipated in its structures and derived from 49. Boasson & Van Giersbergen 1986, p. 14. Van Dijk 1988; Brouwers 1988, pp. 5-6; Taverne 1977, p. 14; Meuwissen 1981; Taverne 1981; Grassi 1981; Dal Co 1981. 51. Strauven 1977, p. 9 notes the questions of the symposium: ‘1. Can the architectural historian, by compiling the building history of a community, provide information and insight to urban planners and provide them with the important principles for urban renewal and development? 2. Can the architectural historian, by describing the growth and/or decline of a particular neighborhood, and by stimulating an awareness of its identity, support the local residents in their struggle for better and more pleasant housing conditions? 3. can the architectural historian shed light on the struggle of classes of good housing conditions within the urban environment, and on the possible realization of their hopes for the future, through the creation, form, development and use of buildings’? 52. Taverne 1977, pp. 17-18. 53. Taverne 1981/9, p. 28. 54. Instituto Universitario di Architettura di Venezia. 55. Berkers et al. 1978, pp. 30-38. 50. 10 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 historical analysis programmatically distorted and finalized’, says Manfredo Tafuri. ‘We could say, in fact, that operative criticism plans past history by projecting it towards the future. Its verifiability does not require abstractions of principle, it measures itself, each time, against the results obtained, while its theoretical horizon is the pragmatist and instrumentalist tradition’.56 Rather than actualizing history and focusing on the present, the aim of historical criticism was to historicize the present and refute its myths.57 That is to say, to trace the genealogical origins of the heterogeneous and even contradictory phenomena that converge in current architectural thought.58 The interaction between Venetian architectural historians such as Manfredo Tafuri and Francesco Dal Co on the one hand and architects such as Giorgio Grassi and Aldo Rossi on the other was considered an example in the Netherlands. They debated on architecture as intellectual labor and the architect as someone who works with his mind.59 Through the translation of their works and their presence at Dutch conferences around the 1980s,60 the ideas of these authors penetrated to magazines like Wonen TA/BK (and later ARCHIS) and Plan. They also influenced the so-called ‘plan-analysis’ that was developed at the Faculty of Architecture in Delft as a didactic design tool. Through a rational approach it was possible to examine historical precedents, explain their components, establish their typology and build on the knowledge thus obtained in the design process.61 This plan-analytical approach served as a counterbalance to the prevailing creative and artistic pretensions of the architect as an artist who would be personal in nature and therefore ‘not open to reason’.62 This episode of mutual engagement came to an abrupt end in 1988. In 1986 Hans van Dijk had still expressed the hope that it could come to ‘a noncommittal conversation in which both architects and historians – even if only for their own pleasure – could participate without prescribing to each other what they should do’.63 Two years later, on the occasion of the symposium ‘Architectural Historical Research’, he observed the failure of this collaboration.64 He wrote: ‘The attempts to combine forces and a joint initiative within institutional, architectural-historical research in the Netherlands have been unsuccessful. This failure should be considered as impotence. One has not been able to pull bridge the gap.’65 More generally, Taverne had already noted that many of the interdisciplinary discussions had bypassed Dutch art history.66 ‘While it seems that, as far as the Netherlands is concerned, the contributions of language analysis, science theory, history, and cultural theory have passed by art history, they have led to fundamental changes in the historical sciences. One of the most important developments in this respect is the gradual orientation of history towards a social science, namely an interdisciplinary discipline in which extensive attention has been paid to 56. Tafuri 1980, p. 141. Berkers et al. 1978, pp. 31-32. 58. Instead of confirming the architect’s current intellectual work, it should be properly questioned. Taverne 1981, p. 28. 59. Tafuri 1978. 60. In 1978, 1979 and 1981. 61. Risselada 1979, p. 8; Döll 1981; Drijver 1981; Karthaus 1981. 62. See for various views on the creative design process: Polak 1984; Hamel 1990; Smienk 2000. 63. Brouwers 1988, p. 51. 64. Brouwers 1988. 65. Van Dijk 1988, p. 7. 66. Taverne 1984B, p. 13. 57. 11 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 mental-cultural history and to the history of material culture’. Since then, there has been little discussion of interdisciplinary and international questions, let alone a rethink of the history of architecture and its object. If we consider the developments afterwards, the disappearance of the debate can also be interpreted differently. The lacunes that Boasson and Van Giersbergen identified in 1986, both at the university, the Faculties of Architecture and the Academies of Architecture, seem to have disappeared from the mid-eighties onwards. Because, contrary to what Van Dijk and Taverne thought, the end of the discussion did not put an end to the collaboration between designers and architectural historians. On the contrary: at the end of the 1990s, the mutual exchange of university historians of architecture (especially in the field of early modern architecture) and architectural studies actually took off. Instead of debating theoretical issues, plenty of research results are published, the possibilities for publication in journals have been broadened, researchers are mobilized, and guest lectures are given back and forth. The aim is an integral historiography, in which all aspects of the profession (architectural theory and historical building practice, social and intellectual context, client and inhabitant) are involved with each other. At the same time, the theoretical debate shifts to the field of (postmodern) architectural criticism. 67 A closer look reveals that the comparison between various types of architectural historians is based on a shared ground. Their starting points usually remain implicit because the priority is not debate and reflection, but the construction of an image of the architectural past. Only once an author explicitly explains his point of view. This applies, for example, to Koen Ottenheym. In his dissertation (1989) he rejects the search for ‘symbolism and deeper meanings’ in the architecture of Philips Vingboons. According to him, architectural history has long been ‘clouded’ by researchers who are firmly convinced that Renaissance architecture is a reflection of divine harmony. This assumption not infrequently led to ‘empty arithmetic’ of sizes and proportions.68 Ottenheym also rejects an iconological interpretation of architecture. And he was not the only one.69 Already in 1968 Tafuri pointed out that such ‘orthodox iconologism’, but also ‘the academic verbosity of exegetic criticism’ within the history of architecture were mixtures of the new emphasis on ‘meaning’, linguistics and communication. ‘The attribution to architecture of a specific range of meanings, the linguistic approach to visual communication techniques, the recognition of the structural laws shaping architectural products, the need for deep analyses to bring out the hidden mechanisms of the use and information of language, all come directly from the themes that in the last fifteenth years have become problems whose solution can no longer be deferred’.70 The same is emphasized by Barbieri and others. The following is one of the propositions: ‘Architectural knowledge always relates to knowledge of architectural forms. It is not about the meaning of 67. Speaks 1996; Graafland 1986, 1989, 2000. Ottenheym 1989, p. 160. 69. Grassi 1997, p. 9: ‘any symbolism that does not focus on architecture itself and its history’. 70. Tafuri 1980, p. 193 resp. p. 176. 68. 12 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 the architectural forms, i.e. their referring character, symbolism, etcetera, but about their type and their order’.71 In his analysis of Vingboons’ plans, Ottenheym therefore does not want to start from some ‘deciphering’ of the architectural formal language. On the contrary, he wants to see them as the results of the seventeenth century ‘design process’.72 ‘For the time being, the use of geometric and arithmetic systems can be seen primarily as an aid to design. With simple proportions and using a compass and ruler, an architect can arrange his idea for a building into a clear and conclusive design’.73 Thus, the combination of an aesthetic ideal of beauty and mathematical techniques would result in a rational and clear design system. With reference to the ‘philosopher-mathematician’ Réne Descartes and his Discours de la Méthode (1637), Ottenheym underlines the scientific character of the design process of the time. 74 The rational, mathematics-based design system would offer a key to the early modern design methods of architects such as Philips Vingboons and Pieter Post, but also to a humanist scholar and architect like Jacob van Campen.75 Ottenheym is not alone in this respect. Grassi and other architects also consider Descartes to be the author at the origin of modern knowledge. There would be parallels between his philosophical method and the ‘architects of reason’.76 Grassi comments: ‘The beginning coincides with the moment when the critical method made its entry into science. I am referring to the generation that, formed at the time of the appearance of Discours de la méthode, had based its own research on “the exploratory doubt”. This is indeed an idea that emerges at a particular moment in the history of thought, and that moment coincides with a substantial change in the concept of rationality. The impact that this change had on architecture in particular, as we know, consisted in calling into question a few canonical models, a few basic principles that had hitherto been regarded as unchanging’.77 By the way, the idea of an analogy between architecture and philosophy from a similar period has been 71. Barbieri 1997, p. 207. Ottenheym 1989, p. 161. 73. Ottenheym 1989, p. 160. 74. Ottenheym 1989, p. 159. 75. Ottenheym 1989, p. 162: ‘It is important to realize that such schemes not only represent a theoretical and aesthetic ideal, but above all are an aid in the design process. Beautiful mathematical figures are therefore not an end in themselves for a seventeenth-century architect. A mathematical scheme should therefore be useful in determining the final dimensions of the building after the architect has already imagined them in his thoughts and in sketches. The important points and lines in the mathematical scheme were then used as “cornerstones” in the design. Conversely, a retrospectively reconstructed design system must therefore also provide a key to the arrangement of the entire building. Critical points of the system should then coincide with the main lines of the design. In this way, sense and nonsense of reconstructed proportion diagrams can be distinguished. 76. Barbieri 1997, pp. 201-202. 77. Grassi 1997, pp. 16-17. He continues a little further: ‘I am referring in particular to the initial phase of the Enlightenment, in which the methodical questions in particular were formulated extremely clearly, more so than to the phase thereafter, when the Enlightenment came under the influence of English thinking and above all fell into the wake of the first great scientific discoveries’. 72. 13 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 fairly widely accepted in the architectural (historical) world since Panofsky’s Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism (1948).78 Ottenheym’s argument is based on the aforementioned work by Rudolf Wittkower, Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism (1949). This deals with ‘the principle of designing and building with pure proportions in the Renaissance’.79 The clear simplicity of sizes and numbers are, according to Wittkower, synonymous with the rationality of the design. The architectural Renaissance plan would be a logical construction and the architect a humanist intellectual moving in a circle of philosophers and learned Neo-Platonists. Wittkower regards – as has been shown above (section 5.2.2.) – Plato’s ‘philosophical mathematic’ in particular as a key to ‘being able to decipher and interpret’ Renaissance architecture. ‘The conviction that architecture is a science and that every part of both the interior and exterior of a building must be integrated into a single system of mathematical proportions can be called the basic axiom of Renaissance architects. (...). But what are the laws of this cosmic order, what are the mathematical proportions that determine harmony in macro- and microcosm? They had once been unveiled by Plato and Pythagoras and their ideas in this field, which had never been forgotten by the way, began to play a prominent role again from the end of the fifteenth century onwards’.80 The same platonic principles would apply to Dutch Classicism – by now elevated by many publications to the architectural highlight of the Republic. In 1989, Ottenheym advocated rehabilitation because of the overly emphatic upgrading of Dutch Renaissance architecture at the beginning of the twentieth century. He was referring to the legendary interpretation of Huizinga, who saw this Dutch Renaissance architecture as a representative of Dutch identity.81 ‘By applying the same mathematical principles with which heaven and earth were also ordered, an absolute, objective beauty of divine origin was pursued. This elevated architectural design to the level of science and thus lifted it above the level of craftsmanship’.82 As a result, Dutch Classicism turned out to be of the same level as Italian Renaissance architecture, a form of design that Wittkower had deciphered as rationalist. ‘Designing buildings according to classical standards’, Ottenheym emphasizes concerning the Dutch seventeenth century, ‘was above all an intellectual and creative activity, in which a direct link with building practice was not necessary’.83 Ottenheym’s thesis of a rational design practice was in keeping with the historiography that architects had been envisioning in recent decades. Critical architects searched history for the origin and continuity of the rationalist design method. In 1966, the aforementioned architect Giorgio Grassi posited rationalism as a constant philosophical factor that had dominated the architectural design method from the Renaissance through the seventeenth century up to and including German rationalism.84 For him, architecture is ‘above Graafland 1986, pp. 45-53. As early as 1968, Tafuri pointed out that this should not be a ‘naive search for ephemeral ideal correspondences between architecture and philosophical speculation’, nor ‘a rigid cause-andeffect relationship between social dialectic and history of art’ (Tafuri 1980, p. 194). 79. Ottenheym 1989, pp. 156, 10. 80. Wittkower 1996, p. 121; further pp. 122, 128-129, 134. 81. Ottenheym 1989, 9. 82. Ottenheym 1989, pp. 8, 16-17. 83. Ottenheym 1999A, p. 35. 84. Grassi 1997, p. 17. 78. 14 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 all a rational, that is to say a mental operation consisting of intellectual processing of the architectural material. In that sense, he can speak of architecture as science’.85 It is no coincidence that he and many other architects rely on Wittkowers Architectural Principles.86 This ‘renewed’ architectural history sees ‘forms’, ‘techniques’ as fixed components of the ‘rationalist design practice’ and not as cultural or historical phenomena. ‘Therefore’, Grassi argues, ‘we can speak of techniques and theoretical problems, we can invoke them and thus judge them for their completeness, not to mention that because of the characteristic tendency of these works to be definitive, we can test the knowledge range of these systems. The precise place these systems occupy in the history of human thought and culture does not really matter then’.87 In fact, this architectural history should strive to eliminate history. ‘We must therefore consider an analysis of the techniques and theoretical systems separately from their historical context. This does not mean, however,’ says Grassi, ‘that history does not play a role in such research. On the contrary. History is largely the material of this study. The knowledge generated by these works is primarily historical knowledge. But it’s a special kind of historical knowledge.’88 After all, its ultimate goal is ‘the construction of a mainly methodoriented genealogy of contemporary rationalism’. In this way, architectural history can ‘make a concrete contribution to a rationally founded theory of architecture’.89 The only condition is ‘to demarcate the problems in such a way that any historical problems do not play a role’.90 In addition to Italians, this approach has also been supported by French writers. An example is The Architecture of Renaissance and Classicism by Jean Castex from 1990. By means of a ‘rational historiography’ and an ‘a-historical comparison’, he tries to show that the present, twentieth-century designers have their roots in (or at least are connected to) earlier, Renaissance forms of architectural thinking. ‘The architecture of the Renaissance is’, Castex writes, ‘not particularly easy to get a grip on, because behind the obsessive beauty of its forms hides a serious claim to intellectual rigor. The Renaissance wanted to turn the architect into an Barbieri 1997, p. 202. Grassi 1997 uses terms such as ‘analytical character of architecture’, ‘expression of logical structure’, ‘logical series of choices’, ‘”formal” theory of architecture’, ‘construction of theories’, ‘intellectual liberation’, ‘rational historiography’, ‘logical construction of architecture’, ‘construction of a genealogy of rationalism’, ‘ideal models in the true sense of the word’, “the moment when the critical method made its appearance in science’, ‘essential change of the concept of rationality’, ‘unbiased analysis’, ‘the deeply human driving force of rationalism’, ‘connecting to a foundation of architecture as a science’, ‘logical and methodical construction’, ‘realized rationality’, ‘deepened knowledge of structures in the past’, ‘process of gradual elimination of the non-intelligible’, ‘rationally grounded theory of architecture using an analysis that includes its research tools’, ‘”liberating requirement”’, ‘the question of the construction of architecture seen as a process of its logical construction’, ‘the method by which architecture defines itself either as analysis or as design’, ‘a kind of togetherness on the intellectual level’, ‘striving to establish a logical foundation of architecture’, ‘wanting to provide design with a logical basis’, ‘to analyze architecture scientifically’, ‘the realization of an ever greater intelligibility of architecture’, ‘the concretization of the critical method’, ‘the fundamental operation on which the critical method rests’, ‘the intellectual satisfaction that knowledge gives us’, ‘the notions understood as rational experience of history’, ‘the design itself conceived as a particular knowing activity, characteristic of the rationalist attitude towards historical experience’, ‘the purely intellectual meaning of historical research’, ‘the purely intellectual legitimacy of historical research’, ‘precisions of the purely intellectual meaning of the descriptions based on historical research’, ‘guarantee of scholarship’, and so on, and so forth. 86 . Wittkower 1996, p. 8; idem Millon 1996, p. 194. 87. Grassi 1997, p. 19. 88. Grassi 1997. 89. Grassi 1997, p. 23. 90. Grassi 1997, p. 23. 85. 15 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 intellectual, armed with a knowledge that we need to master little by little in order to understand what really matters. But if we want architecture to regain its full place in today’s intellectual debate, in which it has played only a marginal role for a long time, there is no better exercise imaginable’.91 In this context, it is hardly surprising that Jean Castex concludes that ‘classicism is very near and even strangely modern’.92 Although the critical architects explicitly distance themselves from an operative historiography, they organize and modulate – just like the new architectural historians – via Wittkowers Principles a suitable past for the ‘scientification’ of the architecture that they are trying to establish today.93 This is how they try to undo Tafuri’s pessimism in Architecture and Utopia. Design and Capitalist Development (1973/ 1976) – namely his thesis that the avant-garde role of the architect as the intellectual worker has been played out precisely because this thinking is completely absorbed in modern planning and the architect thus has nothing left but produce ‘pure architecture’ – via the detour of a rationalist architectural viewpoint.94 It is a restorative development, an attempt to rehabilitation of the architect’s creative work. He is not just a designer, but above all an ‘architect-scholar’. The architectural engineer poses as a scientist and intellectual, the architecture as a ‘spiritual exercise’ and the architect as a ‘thinking eye’.95 However, all this has little to do with serious research into the history of architectural thought and acting. No matter how international the history of architecture in the Netherlands in recent decades is, with its exchange between Italian, French, English and Dutch authors, these appearances are deceiving. Francis Strauven’s 1977 diagnosis regarding the purpose of ‘architectural-historical’ innovations is still valid today. Strauven remarked that architectural history was appropriated by architects in an attempt to ‘refocus’ the creative work of the designer, to rehabilitate the design profession and to give it a higher status. ‘For if architectural history finally managed to free itself from its traditional Vitruvian frame of reference and stylistic history, it was not because it allowed itself to be influenced by the innovations in general historiography (e.g. the work by Braudel and the Annales group), but because it continued to orient itself towards the evolution of architectural thinking among creative designers’.96 What conclusion should we draw from this? At first glance, architectural-historical research into the Dutch seventeenth century in better shape than iconological research into painting. After all, Dutch Classicist painting is causing a furore, while enthusiasm for moralistic genre painting seems to be waning. Still, it’s a trick of the eye. There is only a difference in pace. Both iconologists and architectural historians have been able to stimulate interest in the Dutch Golden Age at different times over the past thirty years, but in the same way. With prestigious publications and large exhibitions, scholars established a clear and thus attractive image for 91. Castex 1993, pp. 8-9. Castex 1993, p. 8. 93. Barbieri 1997, pp. 181-185; Terlouw 1995, p. 16, n. 15 points to the great influence of Wittkower’s ‘compositional schemes’ on design. ‘This groundbreaking book is still a standard work when it comes to the “conceptual” architectural view of the Renaissance’. 94. Berkers et al. 1978, pp. 32-33. 95. Grassi 1997, p. 17; Barbieri (Grassi 1997, p. 201); Steenbergen 2000. 96. Strauven 1977, p. 8. 92. 16 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 the public in which Dutch art and architecture can compete with Italian Renaissance art and architecture. In both cases one has used a philosophy grounded in Platonism. A well-defined selection of art historical interpretations, the aforementioned works by Panofsky and Wittkower, has allowed them to cut themselves off from the scholarly developments that have taken place internationally since then and then withdraw into their own domain. Both iconology and new architectural history presented themselves as an eminently scientific approach to art-historical phenomena. The iconology focused on the development of the meaningful moral content, with the form as a transparent, a-historical carrier. Architectural history did the opposite and focused attention on Dutch classicism on the development of mathematical form, with the content as an a-historical message. Both approaches are thus based on a renewed interpretation of ‘neo-platonic’ ideas and are in principle a-historical. As the basis of two disciplines that study visual material as historical phenomena, this may come as a surprise. Plato is hardly adequate for the study of historical image material. Moreover, as I have shown in the previous research, his philosophy has never been the basis of early modern thinking about painting and building. Nor was it the core of Renaissance thinking in general, as shown above. As early as the 1960s, Paul Oskar Kristeller in particular stressed ‘that the revival of ancient learning and philosophy in the Renaissance took many forms, only a few of them governed by the philological historicism that Panofsky saw as typical of the period’.97 Since then, many science historians have looked into this matter and from there Panofsky’s views have gradually been fine-tuned. As Grafton wrote a few years ago: ‘Thanks above all to Kristeller and his students, from Charles Schmitt to James Hankins, it has now become clear that there was far more continuity than Panofsky believed between medieval and Renaissance efforts to understand the classics of ancient thought about the natural world’.98 Moreover, mathematics does not serve as an indication of the increased rationalization of early modern thinking. Not only because early modern authors like Stevin and Alberti thought the ratio of numbers and line segments in terms of natural philosophy and in that context attach great value to their specific potencies (Chapter 2). As early as 1973 Schmitt expressed his doubts about the high ‘scientific’ status that art and architecture historians attribute to early modern mathematics. ‘I am not suggesting that the application of mathematics and the development of quantitative methods were unimportant for the farreaching changes which took place in scientific methodology and outlook during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. But I think that too much emphasis has been put upon this aspect of the matter in the past and it is time that we began to take a more considered view, utilizing a wider range of examples and source material’.99 Recently Neal pointed out that the now so self-evident analogy between mathematics and truth in the early modern era did not speak for Grafton & Siraisi 1999, p. 14: ‘Kristeller argued that students of the philosophical classics often drew as heavily on the traditions of medieval as of humanist learning. More paradoxically still, students of Plato – the preeminent scholarly rediscovery of the Italian Renaissance – often read his dialogues in a highly anachronistic way, through the interpretative screen provided by the treatises and commentaries of late antique Neoplatonists like Plotinus – whom Ficino not only studied intensively but also translated into Latin’. 98. Grafton & Siraisi 1999, p. 15. 99. Schmitt 1973, p. 177. 97. 17 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 itself and requires adjustment. The explicit linking often served a rhetorical purpose, that is to decouple occult meanings that were equally attached to mathematics at the time. 100 And finally, both art-historical approaches discussed here are a-historical in essence. Not only because iconology regards form, like architectural history regards content, as unchanging, inert phenomena that are irrelevant to the actual historical research. But in the first place because, partly because of this, they have limited their ‘historical analyses of ‘content’ and ‘form’ respectively, to fixing meanings, characteristics and essences that derive their weight from modern ideas. The disproportionate emphasis on sexuality and mathematics, respectively, speaks for itself in that respect. 101 But also the use of modern notions such as ‘Art’ and ‘Beauty’, elite and people, personal intention and the needs of the public – not to mention the use of all kinds of very recent social scientific terminology – has led to a rather opaque historiography. Although one can derive all these kind of assumptions with some good will from the mentioned works of Panofsky and Wittkower, their texts are much less compelling than is suggested today. The limited interpretations of ‘Panofsky’ and ‘Wittkower’ are largely due to the art and architecture historians after them. The Dutch reception made a not insignificant contribution to this narrowing. It is important to realize this, now that literary historians and cultural historians, in their research, build directly on current art and architectural-historical research into the Dutch seventeenth century. In doing so, they consciously or unconsciously take on board questions formulated by art historians based on Wittkower and Panofsky. And this without realizing what place these questions occupy in the history of the art-historical discipline. The ultimate question that cultural historians and historical anthropologists will therefore face at this time is how, given their interest in images, architecture and visual culture, they (must and can) relate to developments in the art-historical discipline in which the historical-theoretical approaches to the arts (such as those of Warburg and others) are now (and informed by post-war developments in the historical sciences) once again on the agenda – instead of automatically adopting the art-historical and architectural-historical ideas of the last 30 years discussed here. 100. 101. Neal 1999, pp. 155-178. Foucault 1984A, pp. 9-18; Payne 1994; Van Eck 1999. 18 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 COMPARATIVE RESEARCH EARLY MODERN ARTS [translated] dr. Heidi de Mare https://independent.academia.edu/HeidideMare https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Heidi-De-Mare 2021 • • 2018 • ‘Simon Stevin and the Liberated House’, Chapter 1.1.1. + Chapter 2, cum laude Dissertation 2003. PDF Pieter de Hooch and the Chamber Scape, Chapter 1.1.3 + Chapter 4, cum laude Dissertation 2003, online April 2021. ‘’t Is kunst te leven. Vroegmoderne verbeelding van duurzaam samenleven’, in: G. van den Brink (red.), Waartoe is Nederland op aarde? (Boom): 117-142. PDF + Beeldkatern PDF ‘“The Art of Living Well”. Early Modern Imagination of Living in a Tenable Way’ (2019). PDF + PDF Images 2017 • ‘Het beeld als bron. Een beschouwing naar aanleiding van recent onderzoek naar Het straatje van Vermeer’, in: Tijdschrift voor historische geografie, no. 4 (2017): 248-259. PDF ‘The Image as historical source. Contemplation in response to recent research on The Little Street by Vermeer’ (2019). PDF 2016 • Review. The Technical Image. A History of Styles in Scientific Imagery, H. Bredekamp et al. (eds.), The University of Chicago Press 2015, in: The Journal of Design History, N.Y.: 93-95. PDF 2012 • ‘Vindplaats van het huiselijk leven. Het kamergezicht in de Hollandse Gouden Eeuw’, in: Historisch Tijdschrift Holland, Jaargang 44, no. 3, themanummer ‘Huiselijkheid’: 110-118. ‘The Finding Place of Domestic Life. The Chamber Scape in Dutch Golden Age’ (2018). PDF 2009 • ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. De kunst van interdisciplinair onderzoek’, in: Kunstlicht, ‘Kunstgeschiedenis & Interdisciplinariteit’, vol. 30, no. 3-4: 90-99. PDF ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. The Art of Interdisciplinary Research’ (2009) PDF 2007 • ‘Johannes Vermeer: migratie van een icoon’ in: J. van Eijnatten et al. (red.), Heiligen of helden. Opstellen voor Willem Frijhoff, Amsterdam: 198-214. PDF ‘Johannes Vermeer: migration of an icon’ (2009) PDF 1999 • ‘Domesticity in Dispute: A Reconsideration of Sources’, in: I. Cieraad (red.), At Home. Anthropology of Domestic Space (2nd edition 2006). New York: 13-30 PDF. 1994 • ‘A rule worth following in architecture? The significance of gender in Simon Stevin’s architectural knowledge system (1548-1620)’, in: E. Kloek et al. (red.), Women of the Golden Age. Hilversum: 103-120. PDF 1993 • Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands. Historical contrasts in the use of public space, architecture and the urban environment. Volume, with A. Vos (Van Gorcum Assen), met bijdragen van P. Burke, R. Ingersoll, A. Blok, W. Frijhoff, K. Wuertz, F. Bollerey & A. Reijndorp 1993 • ‘The Domestic Boundary as Ritual Area in Seventeenth-Century Holland’, in: H. de Mare and A. Vos (eds.), Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands. Van Gorcum Assen: 108-131. PDF. ‘Die Grenze des Hauses als ritueller Ort und ihr Bezug zur holländischen Hausfrau des 17. 19 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 • Jahrhunderts’, in: Kritische Berichte. Zeitschrift für Kunst- und Kulturwissenschaften, 4 (1992): 64-79. PDF ‘Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands’, with A. Vos, in: H. de Mare and A. Vos (eds.), Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands, Van Gorcum: 5-25. PDF COMPARATIVE RESEARCH – IMAGE, ART & VISUAL CULTURE [translated] 2020 • • • • 2019 • • • • 2018 • 2016 • • 2015 • • 2013 • • 2012 • ‘The Dutch art historians Van de Waal and Emmens’, translation Chapter 5.2.3. cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF ‘Introduction’, translation Chapter Chapter 1.1., cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF ‘Methodology’, translation Chapter 1.2, cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF Plato and the Dutch Art and Architectural history, Chaper 5.2.4, cum laude Dissertation 2003, online April 2021. ‘Image, Art & Visual Culture, a TRIPTYCH’ – an epistemological program’. PDF ‘Art history according to Panofsky, Wittkower and Gombrich’, translation Chapter 5.2.2, cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF ‘Aby Warburg and cultural history as scholarly field of study’, translation Chapter 5.2.1., cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF ‘#MeToo, Representation & the Cleansing of the Image. The Role of Gender Studies in Media, Art and Culture’, Stichting IVMV. PDF Review. Darren Kelsey (2015), Media, Myth and Terrorism. A Discourse-Mythological Analysis of the ‘Blitz Spirit’ in British newspaper responses to the July 7 th bombings. Palgrave, Macmillan, in: Journal of Language and Politics, [JLP 17:5] by Bischof, Karin and Cornelia Ilie (eds., Democracy and Discriminatory Strategies in Parliamentary Discourse: 699-703. PDF ‘Carnaty or the difficulty of flesh color’ [2020] PDF, blog stichting IVMV (05.12.2016) ‘Moral imagination at work’, with K. Woets, in: G. van den Brink (ed.), Moral Sentiments in Modern Society. A New Answer to Classical Questions. AUP: 257-287. ‘Laura Mulvey’s Legacy – Scary Movie-Scholars?!’. Review L. Mulvey c.s. (eds.), Feminisms. Diversity, Difference, and Multiplicity in Contemporary Film Cultures (AUP 2015), in: IVMVonline magazine 2015|3. PDF ‘Salient Silence. Some Principles of the Visual Formation in CRASH (2004)’, in: F.L. Bakker et al. (eds.), Blessed are the Eyes that Catch Divine Whispering… Silence in Religie and Film. Film und Theologie, Band 28. Marburg Schürer Verlag: 21-35. PDF ‘Schiphol as a Holland Airport in the Press Photography of the Netherlands’ (2013), in: M. Berkers et al., Megastructure Schiphol (NAi): 286-297. PDF Police in Fiction: in the Spirit of the Law, Lecture, Annual Conference of The European Police Research Institutes Collaboration (EPIC), Tampere (Finland) PDF ‘Een afzichtelijk schepsel? Frankenstein en de waarde van de natuurlijke geboorte’, in: A. Oderwald e.a. (red.), Nieuw leven. Geboorte in fictie (Literatuur & geneeskunde, De Tijdstroom 20 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 • Utrecht): 61-70. PDF ‘A Hideous Creature? Frankenstein and the Value of Natural Birth’ (2018). PDF. ‘Moments of Transcendence in A.I. (Spielberg 2001). The Moving Image and the Power of the Human Imagination’, in: W. Stoker & W. van der Merwe (eds.), Looking Beyond: Shifting Views of Transcendence in Philosophy, Theology, Art, and Politiek. Editions Rodopi Amsterdam: 447470. PDF 2010 • • • 2009 • ‘Contemplation on Visual Culture, a Triptych. 1. Deconstruction of the Academic Phenomenon of Cultural Studies’ (2019). PDF ‘From Goya to Afghanistan. An essay on the ratio and ethics of medical war pictures’, met L. van Bergen (VUmc) & F. J. Meijman (VUmc), in: Medicine, Conflict & Survival, vol. 26, no. 2: 124-144. PDF ‘De lakmoesproef van de moderne beschaving. Goed en Kwaad in virusfilms’, met G. Keyser, in: A. Oderwald et al. (red.), Besmet (Literatuur & geneeskunde, De Tijdstroom Utrecht): 99108. PDF. ‘Good and Evil in Virus Films. The Litmus Test of Modern Civilization’ (2020). PDF. ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. 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Grassi, De logische constructie van de architectuur. Nijmegen 1997, pp. 179-235. Berger, J. e.a., Anders zien. Nijmegen 1974. Berkers, P. e.a., Kunstgeschiedenis en kritiek. Dokumentatie. Nijmegen 1978. Boasson, D. & M. van Giersbergen, ‘Architectuurgeschiedenis in Nederland. Verschuivingen in de periode 1965-1985’, in: Archis (1986), 6, pp. 14-28. Broadbent, G., ‘Architects and their Symbols’, in: O. Bouman & R. Van Toorn, Het onzichtbare in de architectuur. I. Delft 1987A, pp. 159-173. Broadbent, G., ‘Building Design as an Iconic System (1980)’, in: O. Bouman & R. Van Toorn, Het onzichtbare in de architectuur I. Delft 1987B, pp. 148-158. Brom, G., Schilderkunst en litteratuur in de 16e en 17e eeuw. Utrecht 1957. Bronzwaer, W.J.M., D.W. Fokkema & E. Ibsch, Tekstboek algemene literatuurwetenschap. Baarn 1977. Brouwers, R., H. van Dijk & W. Vierling (ed.), Architectuur Historisch Onderzoek. Verslag van een symposium. Amsterdam 1988. Bruyn, J., ‘Svetlana Alpers, The Art of Describing, in: Oud-Holland (1985), 99, pp. 155-160. Bruyn, J., Een Gouden Eeuw als erfstuk. Amsterdam 1986A. Bruyn, J., ‘Het probleem van het realisme in de zeventiende-eeuwse Hollandse kunst van Huizinga tot heden’, in: Theoretische geschiedenis (1986B), 13, pp. 209-218. Bruyn, J., ‘Over het 16de en 17de-eeuwse portret in de Nederlanden als memento mori’, in: Oud-Holland (1991B), 105, pp. 244-261. Bruyn, J., ‘Dutch cheese: a problem of interpretation’, in: Ten essays for a friend: E. de Jongh 65. Zwolle 1996, pp. 99-106. Bryson, N., Vision and painting. The logic of the gaze. Hampshire/ London 1983. Carlini, A. & B. Schneider (ed.), Die Stadt als Text. Wasmuth/ Tübingen 1976A. Carlini, A. & B. Schneider (ed.), Stadtbild? Wasmuth/ Tübingen 1976B. Castex, J., De architectuur van renaissance, barok en classicisme. Een overzicht 1420-1720. Nijmegen 1993 (1990). Choay, F., ‘Semiotik und Urbanismus’, in: A. Carlini & B. Schneider (ed.), Die Stadt als Text. Wasmuth/ Tübingen 1976, pp. 43-60. Claes, P., Het netwerk en de nevelvlek. Semiotische studies. Leuven 1979. Coward R. & J. Ellis, Language and Materialism. Developments in Semiology and the Theory of the Subject. London/ Henley/ Boston 1977. Dal Co, F., ‘Ontwerp en historie’, in: Plan (1981), 9, pp. 44-47. 22 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 De Jongh, E., ‘Svetlana Alpers, The Art of Describing’, in: Simiolus, 14 (1984), 1, pp. 51-59. De Jongh, E., ‘Enige aspecten van de iconologie, gisteren en vandaag’, in: L.T. van Looij e.a. (ed.), Aspecten van vijftig jaar kunsthistorisch onderzoek: 1938-1988. Brussel 1990A, pp. 33-48. De Jongh, E., ‘De bijl en de wortels: review Bedaux, The reality of symbols’, in; NRC Handelsblad, 7 september 1990B, p. 6. De Jongh, E., ‘Real Dutch Art and not-so-real Dutch art: some nationalistic views of seventeenth-century Netherlandish painting’, in: Simiolus, 20 (1990/91), 2/3, pp. 197-206. De Jongh, E., ‘Some notes on interpretation’, in: D. Freedberg & J. de Vries (ed.), Art in history. History in Art. Santa Monica 1991, pp. 119-136. De Jongh, E., ‘De Nederlandse zeventiende-eeuwse schilderkunst door politieke brillen’, in: F. Grijzenhout & H. van Veen (ed.), De Gouden eeuw in perspectief. Nijmegen/ Heerlen 1992B, pp. 225-250. De Jongh, E., ‘Nationalistische visies op zeventiende-eeuwse Hollandse kunst’, in: S.C. Dik & G.W. Muller (ed.), Het hemd is nader dan de rok. Zes voordrachten over het eigene van de Nederlandse cultuur. Assen/ Maastricht 1992C, pp. 61-82. De Jongh, E., ‘De dissonante veelstemmigheid sinds Haaks Hollandse schilders in de Gouden Eeuw’, in: Theoretische geschiedenis, 19 (1992D), 3, pp. 275-291. De Jongh, E., ‘Stillevens zijn voor vrouwen. 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Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 The accepted picture Since the 19th century the ‘Dutch Home’ has been a revealing cliché. It supposedly originates in the 17th century. A bourgeois mentality, cosiness, cleanliness, Calvinistic morals and ‘modern’ housekeeping are thought to be characteristic for the house and home of the well-to-do citizen and his family. This bourgeois home forms one of the benchmarks for understanding the Dutch Republic, the special place that this Republic occupies in early modern Europe and the subordinate position of the housewife (Introduction). The concept of the Dutch Home as a 17th-century invention is often associated with the civilizing process. Norbert Elias theorized that early modern state formation was accompanied by an increasing self-control and a ‘disappearing behind the curtains’ of certain forms of behaviour. Since Elias the home with functionally differentiated rooms has been regarded as tangible proof of this civilizing process: in the 17th century the sensitive citizen withdraws together with his family into the home and shuts himself off from the hostile outside world. The monumental patrician canal houses, the paintings of Dutch interiors and the moralistic writings of the Calvinistic authors are cited by many studies as illustrations of this idea. The floor plan of a house (Vingboons), a striking moralistic quotation (Cats) or an exemplary genre painting (De Hooch) serve as ‘proof’ of the special place taken by Holland in the development of Western culture. In this way the Dutch bourgeois-Calvinistic culture supposedly differs from both the Italian urban-aristocratic culture and the French elite courtly culture. Sources As an art historian it was an obvious step for me to take a critical look at the sources generally used to support such views – in the fields of architecture, literature and painting. I have departed from the usual route, however, in not examining these sources in their social context. Indeed, I have deliberately assigned a subordinate role to the socio-political context in this study. My chief goal is to analyse these sources within their own domains and traditions. Their number must be limited in order to enable a precise examination. I therefore concentrated on the architectural treatise Onderscheyt vande oirdeningh der Steden and Byvough der stedenoirdening, vande oirdening der deelen eens hvis Met `t gheene daer ancleeft (1649) by the engineer Simon Stevin (1548-1620), who originally came from Bruges but later worked in Holland; on the Houwelick (1625) by the Pensionary and poet Jacob Cats (1577-1660) and the work of the painter Pieter de Hooch (1629-1684). The latter is examined in combination with the Inleyding tot de Hooge School der Schilderkunst: Anders de Zichtbaere Werelt (1678) by the author and painter Samuel van Hoogstraten 719 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 (1627-1678). Apart from the fact that these sources explicitly relate to the house, it is important that the cited authors form part of the cliché of Dutch identity, the Dutch Home and Dutch domesticity. This trio made an important contribution to the image of early ‘modernity’ in the Dutch Republic. In the national consciousness Stevin stands for anti-Aristotelian scientific rationalism, Cats for patriarchal Calvinism and De Hooch for bourgeois intimacy. Chapter 1: The methodology of historical formalism This study is neither specialist nor synthetical. It aims to produce a comparative study that respects the specific issues and the accompanying conceptual apparatus of architectural, literary and art history. At the same time I investigate how the results of the respective disciplines can be mutually related in a useful manner. In the process I assume that the relationship between words and images, between discursive and non-discursive elements in the sources, is different in each case. This renders the comparison both more complex and more interesting. After all, the examination of a historical poetical work is not the same as the examination of an architectural drawing or a painted scene. Thus this study contains no hermeneutical analysis or history of ideas that reveals the original meaning, idea or essence of a source. I am primarily concerned with the issue of how rules of thought generate the house as a significant concept. By focusing on the rules of thought it is possible to investigate the relationship between the sources at the epistemological level. The question at hand thus has two elements. Firstly, we have the theoretical question about the regulation of thinking in the various domains (What can be thought? What are the rules governing thinking? Who formulates them?). This question centres on the differentiation and analysis of the various levels of meaning in a source, the way that these layers are structured and how they affect each other. Secondly, there is the more historical question of how, on the basis of these levels, one can explain what is thought, formulated and imagined with respect to the house. What is the core of the special conceptual configuration of ‘the house’ in early modern Holland? Theoretical backgrounds My historical formalism draws in theoretical terms on two separate traditions. Firstly, the fairly recent development of historical anthropology (Peter Burke, Willem Frijhoff, Carlo Ginzburg). Here, historiography on the basis of large social models is replaced by attention to everyday details and the way that these have changed in the course of time. The broad concept of culture in this tradition and its attention to diachrony allows – by analogy – an investigation of the historical views on art in the early modern period without being hindered by 20thcentury preoccupations on the subject. Secondly, there is an older tradition that 720 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 concentrates on a systematic analysis of the language system and which emphasizes the synchronous patterns in thinking and narration. In this tradition I include structural linguistics, Russian formalism, narrative analysis, semiotics and the structural anthropology of Claude Lévi-Strauss. It also includes recent methods that broaden the field of studies through systematic analysis of the image, such as film semiotics. My cultural-historical study of the arts takes from the first approach its attention to the historical variability of the phenomena that are often viewed as inert (in this case the concept of art). From the second approach I take the attention to the systematic foundation of the early modern concept of art (the concept of art is based on shared conventions, typical of the early modern period but specific for architecture, literature and painting). The combination of these two perspectives allows me to establish the particular relationship between the word and the image in the early modern concept of art. By focusing the study on a specific case – the conceptual modelling of the ‘house’ in the fields of architecture, literature and painting – I attempt to formulate, to test and to implement this new methodology. Furthermore, this method is related to two historical-theoretical approaches. Firstly the archaeological method of Michel Foucault, which examines the epistemological transformations in European thinking. Secondly the analysis of the early modern Dutch visual culture by Svetlana Alpers. The ‘descriptive analysis’ that I present in Chapters 2, 3 and 4 contains both the presentation of the theme and source materials. The rearrangement of the source material demonstrates the theoretical approach. Structure of the book Chapter 1 has two sections. In Section I of this chapter I explain my choice of the above-mentioned methodology, also dealing with a few developments in related disciplines. In Section II of Chapter 1 provide an overview of the current views on the work of Stevin, Cats and De Hooch. Chapters 2, 3 and 4 are arranged in the same manner, consisting of two sections each. In Section I of each chapter I examine the levels that I believe to be most relevant to the source in question. This does not however mean that no other layers exist – the more detailed the examination the more nuances one will discover. Section II always deals with the same source, but the focus of study is on the internal relationship of the levels and on how these can be ordered within the early modern European context. When selecting the levels I have also been guided by the composition of the whole, so that each chapter consists of roughly the same number of sections. In Chapter 5 I conclude my study on two levels. In Section I of this chapter I connect the three content-related analyses on a higher plane by linking them on the one hand with the burgher culture and on the other with the scientific 721 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 revolution. Section II contains a theoretical reflection on the applied methodology against the background of the historiography of 20th-century art-historical scholarship. Chapter 2: Simon Stevin – between manual and treatise I commence with Stevin’s extensive treatment of the properties of building materials. His house appears to be a physical structure, subject to laws of Nature. Since Vitruvius the classic principle of suitability maintains that the form should conform to the nature of the material used. Durability is dependent on a skilful balancing of the beneficial and harmful physical properties (2.1.1.). Stevin’s inventions aim to promote odour-free air, permanent sunlight, pure water, smokeless fire, uncorrupted food and a closed privy flushed by rainwater. With his inventions Stevin intends to create full-fledged, autonomous rooms which serve to balance the health of the house and its inhabitants. His ‘findings’ form the classical parameters for a healthy place (2.1.2.). Here, living creatures are classified according to their place in the order of Nature. In Stevin’s house the ‘chamber arrangement’ is based on the (good and harmful) properties of several inhabitants under one roof. Differences in status, age and sex always lead to inconvenience and disturbance. By providing all inhabitants with purified and relieved chambers Stevin solves the issue of inconvenience in a classic manner. It is not an ‘increased wish for privacy’ but an appropriate passage and internal dignity that gives his house a wealth of doors, privies, little fountains and two staircases (2.1.3.). Moreover, Stevin assign natural potentialities to numbers, lines and geometrical forms. The ratio of his drawings as formal pattern is related to the early modern view that Nature imposes order. The house drawing as an arrangement of lines contains true knowledge (Stevin’s term is wis-kunde, meaning both mathematics and ‘science of knowledge’). Stevin’s exemplary house drawing, based on Fibonacci numbers, thus can generate many appropriate house forms and is not a blueprint for a real three-dimensional building (2.1.4.). Part II of Chapter 2 takes a wider perspective, even though still concentrating on Stevin’s architectural treatise. I compare his work to architectural treatises within the tradition, such as those of Vitruvius, Alberti, Serlio and Palladio. I also compare it to contemporary Dutch works on the art of architecture, such as those of De Bray, Van Campen, Vingboons and Goeree. This reveals that Stevin’s views on ‘pillars’, ‘equilaterality’ and ‘pleasant appearance’ are derived from the classical views on a balanced coordination (‘concinnity’) of the parts in a natural order. Thus one should not interpret his thinking on ‘mathematic’ and ‘symmetry’ as a forerunner to concepts of scientific measurability and eternal beauty (2.2.1). Although the house had formed part of architectural thinking since Vitruvius, in the early modern treatises it was assigned a new position. Simultaneously there was a shift from a description of measurements (Vitruvius) to a description of 722 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 drawing procedures (Alberti) finally resulting in series of differentiated drawings (Serlio, Palladio). Stevin’s drawing is a memorable (because visual) condensation of this art of building (2.2.2.). Finally, there is an examination of Stevin’s view of the art of building as an early modern science. For him an art (ars) consists of a complex of general rules that can be defined with the help of terms (kunstwoorden) and that contain differentiated knowledge and skills. A good architect is able to act appropriately and to construct a solid, durable and suitable building. The scholarly nature of bouwconst is thus not based on the mathematical principles of the Renaissance design process as posited by Wittkower. Architecture is an ‘art’ which requires a complete knowledge of Nature (spiegheling) of which practical intervention (daet) is a part (2.2.3.). Stevin presents a comprehensive and cohesive system of architectural knowledge with an Aristotelian foundation. He applies the drawing as a graphic and cohesive demonstration of the knowledge that an architect should possess. His mathematical (wisconstighe) drawing is above all a visual means of demonstrating and training methodical thinking. His treatise thus occupies the middle ground between two other categories. On the one hand the modern manual that consists of ‘practical details’ without an epistemological context. On the other hand the treatise (traktaat) in which the formal relationship is, by contrast, very strong and which already lends the material in question a degree of truth through its form. Around 1800 there was a resurgence of interest in the house, but then from the perspective that architecture is a ‘good means of serving people and society’. This makes the house a very different architectonic object than that envisaged by Stevin in the early modern period. Chapter 3: Jacob Cats – between morality and mythology Chapter 3 begins with a description of domestic affairs in their trivial materiality. This involves a separate domain (oikos) that Cats, in the classical manner, associates with the wider Commonwealth (polis). By allowing household goods and healthy food into the house in moderation, through daily maintenance of order, through supervision of objects’ material condition, through classification of daily acts according to age, sex, status, time and chamber in the house, a domestic order is created (3.1.1.). It then appears that, according to Cats, every entity, living or inanimate by nature exerts an attracting force on its consort. Stones, trees, animals and human beings pair and generate offspring. For the human being, following this urge is a perilous course. Cats presents a tableau that describes the fates of the human characters who hurry into marriage: many stray from the correct path. This shows the importance of an honest and honourable courtship in which one character approaches the other in accordance with the rules. Marriage forms a keystone of Nature as a divine universe in which all beings strive for friendship and harmony (3.1.2.). Nonetheless these efforts mark only the 723 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 beginning of the labour of marriage. Man and woman are revealed as being prey to fierce passions. Constant effort is required in order to govern the passions of body and soul in the Aristotelian sense. Both husband and wife should acknowledge the varying moods of their consort and protect their weaknesses. In this way it is possible to live with each other’s propensities in an appropriate state of peace. If husband and wife also treat children and servants in the same manner then this will engender respect and do the house a great service (3.1.3.). Finally, Cats creates a spiritual vault above the earthly worries and affairs that fill the house and the lives of the human characters. Since the Reformation, day-to-day work had acquired a sheen of the eternal. Doing trivial things became an honourable calling. Cats localizes the spiritual universe in the house and sets up a vertical connection between everyday life and more comprehensive Christian accounts. In fact, one does not marry for one’s own sake or for each other’s sake, but to fulfil a divine obligation (3.1.4.). In Section II of the chapter 3 set Cats’ work in a European context. I compare it with that of Alberti, Le Ménagier de Paris, De León, Perkins and relate it to terms used by women such as De Pisan and Van Schurman when writing about marriage. They all view marriage as a issue of honour. Cats speaks in terms of esteem, dignity and reputation. The domestic domain is not a separate sphere in which the master of the house rules over all its inhabitants. The married couple is the smallest unit in urban public life. Both husband and wife have a duty to live their lives wisely. Matrimony thus becomes a matter of both complementarity and equivalence – a view reminiscent of the Jewish tradition (3.2.1.). The art of wellbeing (ars bene vivendi) is also dealt with by other early modern authors. This art is presented in different variations that are not subject to religious limitations. Complete obedience to a woman’s (older) spouse as a form of wisdom (Le Ménagier de Paris), the choice of a good wife to secure both offspring and family property (Alberti), a virtuous man who will be rewarded by God with the gift of a strong woman (De León) or the Christian marriage as a means of spreading the Christian doctrine (Perkins) – all these themes can be viewed within the early modern scheme. Cats adds his personal mix to this collection (3.2.2.). I conclude with the composition of the Houwelick. Cats attempts to prompt his reader to consider marriage and applies a wide range of classical poetical and rhetorical means to achieve this. He gains the favour of the reader, focuses his attention and plays on his emotions. The apparent linearity of his narrative is based on repetition, reversal, contrast, parallelism and a combining of elements and motifs. This approach creates (in Aristotelian terms) an eloquent ‘mean’ or middle ground. Following a sequence of stormy, moving, joyful and wounding events the reader experiences the peace and quiet about which Cats speaks: the balance between the extremes is reached in the process of reading itself (3.2.3.). In addition Cats presents engravings which visualise various ‘worlds’ in a symbolic 724 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 manner. He sees these depictions as instruments to induce the process of reflection. The analysis shows that Cats’ Houwelick occupies the middle ground between a 19th-century morality with all its moral norms on the one hand, and classical myth with its exploration of collective dilemmas on the other. Cats puts forward an Aristotelian ethic: thought will prompt the burgher to act appropriately. In the 19th century Cats was praised for his domestic poetry, his work was read at the domestic hearth and his edifying words were used in the process of nation-forming. But in fact this led to the creation of a completely new ‘Father Cats’ who had little in common with the early modern thinker who dealt with the house and marriage as classical themes. Chapter 4: Pieter de Hooch – between framework and seriality In the fourth chapter I examine not only the paintings of Pieter de Hooch but also the writings of the painter and author Samuel van Hoogstraten on the art of painting. Art historians view them as representatives of two different schools, with Dutch realist painting opposed to Italian classicistic history painting. For decades this opposition has been the subject of a fierce ‘realism’ debate. But the significance of this contrast is reduced when one considers the cultural migration of artists, of painterly techniques and of concepts of painting within Europe. Extending this approach, I examine how the art of painting is formulated in the ‘image’ (De Hooch) and in the ‘word’ (Van Hoogstraten). For De Hooch the art of perspective (doorzichtskunde) is a natural method of dividing a plane surface with lines, by which process the plane is overlayed with fields of varying size and shape. The ‘chamberscape’(kamergezicht), by analogy with the landscape, provides a vista that draws the eye into all corners of the plane surface. The notion of ‘perspective’ as an objective, accurate and rational technique that, through a ‘spatial window’, provides the self-assured Renaissance man with a view of threedimensional reality is not supported in the early modern writings (4.1.1.). The painter studies the natural actions of sunlight and shadow, the ‘chamber light’ (kamerlicht) and transforms this into graduations of light and dark on the plane surface. Reflections, reflexes and gloss, intense or filtered light, rays of light that graze or penetrate, moonlight or candlelight: all these provide means for transfiguring the nature of everyday objects in images. De Hooch’s ‘sundrenched, warm and intimate interiors’ do not signify a sense of hygiene or of morals, but instead optical knowledge of Nature (4.1.2.). In our media colours prove the ‘genuineness’ of the message, but in early modern conventions they are based on hierarchy. An artist needed to know the beneficial and harmful properties of pigments because he mixed the paint materials himself. The natural colour spectrum is marked by progeny, by mutual friendship or enmity, analogous to an family of persons. A painting is harmonious when pigments are sorted and 725 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 arranged in accordance with the rules (4.1.3.). Human figures do not have a special status in De Hooch’s work. Bodies – both animate and inanimate entities – are recognizable figures that arise from the painted relief. Following nature means striving for suitable positioning of ‘parts’ (according to age, sex, gesture, status, material). In this way one can avoid lopsided bodies, hybrid figures and monsters. Bodies must be ‘in their element’ and show variation. With the use of a limited number of treatments (substitution, rotation, changed in localization and in dressing of the bodies) De Hooch generates a recognizable series of varied ‘chamberscapes’ (4.1.4.). In Section II of Chapter 4 this issue is given a more general treatment. The 19th-century term ‘genre painting’ and the recent cover-all term ‘history painting’ have supplanted early modern terms. The multi-staged acquisition of the parts of art that a master painter should have at his command is interpreted as a hierarchic judgement of the content of the painting. In fact, the early modern ‘history’ forms the test piece (literally, ‘masterpiece’) in which the master demonstrates his complete knowledge of painting by making the most complex picture (4.2.1.). A further issue relates to the historical position of the ‘domestic interior’. An investigation of the domestic tableau since the medieval illuminations shows that the image itself gained a new status in Europe between 1450 and 1600. What was originally a mirror of spiritual spheres slowly developed into the plane surface on which the natural order was unfolded and classified in all its visible parts. Hybrid mixtures (monsters, witches) appear, along with temporary interim products (emblemata) and lasting combinations (chamberscapes, still-life, landscape) which order the heritage in line with new conventions. The ‘households of Jan Steen’ test the new pictorial codes of the chamberscape in an astute (kluchtige) manner. This visual turbulence (beeldenstorm) affected the Dutch visual culture just as strongly as the Italian. It is not so much a registration of social and religious reorientations, but in fact it contributes actively to this process (4.2.2.). Indeed, the image acquires a strategic significance in the rendering and transferral of true insights. The art of drawing brings the world within arm’s reach. At the same time the enticing potential of images is emphasized. Hence true knowledge and imagination are compatible in the early modern rationality: both are embedded in Nature. In the painter these two elements come together. The gathering of general knowledge relating to the visual world takes place in the mind. These changes in the status of the image also cast a new light on the contemporary debates regarding the ‘misuse’ of religious and titillating images (4.2.3.). All things considered, the work of De Hooch and Van Hoogstraten is a much stronger part of a European trend than has previously been thought. Writings on the art of painting in Holland and Italy belong to the same paradigmatic field. In the course of the 18th century the cognitive system shifted, a hierarchy themes was established and the interrelationship of the concepts 726 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 changed. In the 19th century these changes finally led to a transformation in which the ‘art of painting’ gave way to the considering of Art (4.2.4.). Hence De Hooch’s corpus of painted planes stands somewhere between the 19th-century framework, viewed as a unique Art product of eternal beauty, and 17th-century seriality, viewed as variations on a pattern that is realized only as a series. With his painted chamberscapes De Hooch installed a set of conventions that went on to lead a life of their own. The classic chamberscape migrated and reemerged in later centuries, not only in painting but also in the classic Hollywood film. Chapter 5: The image as carrier of knowledge In Section I of this chapter I put the foregoing in a European perspective, viewed as a centuries-old network of cultural shifts and modifications. Cultural-historical research into parallels and local variations is more interesting than amplification of the differences. With regard to this more general level I defend three positions. 1. The antique concepts of natural philosophy had a stronger resonance in early modern culture than is often thought. The history of science has shown how innovators such as Descartes competed with Aristotle in ‘the study of Nature’. Stripped of medieval scholasticism, Aristotelian natural philosophy remains the foundation on which the ‘revolutionary’ innovations spring up. The medieval master is transformed into two figures: on the one hand the practising academic, on the other the technician who carries out the work. (5.1.1.). 2. Image and visual conceptualization were of strategic importance for the establishment, rendering, transferring and appropriation of (true) knowledge. The multifarious reordering of antique knowledge in the early modern period, described by Cohen as the genesis of a ‘universe of precision’, was based in part on the certainty that had been ascribed to visual knowledge in Europe from the 13th century onwards. This knowledge included craft knowledge, visual transfer of knowledge and a discursive system of rules. Thus the knowledge-saturated image became a means of starting the thought process (5.1.2). 3. Burghers and burgher culture contributed more to the perpetuation of the innovations in early modern thinking than did the courtly culture. The sovereign invested money, food and accommodation in scholars and painters in order to carry out politics and to shape the world (militarily and symbolically) to his wishes. The burgher invested this concrete knowledge in himself and the well-being of his family. The 16th-century ‘industrious revolution’ (De Vries) correlates with this investment by burghers in the domestic domain and undermines Elias’ theory that the civilizing process had its epicentre in the courtly culture (5.1.3.). On the basis of a discussion of Van Hoogstraten's Perspective from the Threshold I bring together and synthesize my findings. A historical-formalistic analysis of this early modern painting shows that we should understand the house, with all its details, in the light of the prevailing 727 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 Aristotelian natural philosophy. The house as architectural construction springs from classical views regarding the interplay of natural forces. As a place where a family resides under one roof the house is based on knowledge regarding the dignity of all family members and the disruption that they can cause each other. The house as painted plane presupposes true knowledge of all perceivable aspects of Nature, demonstrated by the master with a trained hand on the plane surface. The house as an honourable enterprise requires insights into the natural qualities of the master and mistress of the house, into domestic economy, varying marital moods, divine procreation as foundation for the Commonwealth and as spiritual counterpoint in the cosmic universe. The burgher and his family are not so much cornerstones of the social order, but the classical keystone in a Natural (divine) universe. (5.1.4.). In Section II of the chapter I relate my working method to the genealogy of art-historical terms in the 20th century. The work of Warburg, who advocated a cultural-historical history of art a full century ago, can be reread in this light (5.2.1.). Others such as Panofsky, Wittkower and Gombrich extended Warburg’s line but ultimately made other choices. This was partly for cultural-political reasons (protecting civilization during Nazism by emphasizing Plato’s idealism), partly due to the changing scholarly climate (greater influence of psychology, with attention given to the ‘beholder’s share’) (5.2.2.). In the post-war Netherlands Van de Waal and Emmens attempted to think through the work of these authors in their complexity (5.2.3.). Since the 1970s popular iconological interpretations (genre painting) and architectural-historical interpretations (Dutch classicism) have reduced this art-historical thinking. As a result, both the elite and the broad public apply today a ‘Platonic’ paradigm to the Dutch Golden Age, in which the Aristotelian basis for the art of painting, the art of building and the art of well-being remains a blind spot (5.2.4.). The future of cultural-historical research in the arts I view historical-formalism as a fruitful method for investigating the early modern arts. By separating out the various elements of cliché concepts such as the ‘Dutch home’ within the history of architecture, literature and art and examining their various levels, it appears possible to reveal new relationships. These relationships are often obscured by the current perspective by which people spontaneously view the world – even in the past. In contrast to frequent claims, this current perspective is not determined by a ‘visual turn’. Western culture has been marked by a ‘social turn’ for at least a century and in recent decades this has also manifested itself in the academic world. Due in part to this, ‘communication’ has become the central term and cultural products (word or image) are regarded as vehicles for intentions or messages that people exchange with one another. There is an apparent reluctance 728 Heidi de Mare, Summary – The House and the Rules of Thought. A culturalhistorical investigation into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats and Pieter de Hooch. Dissertation - Cum laude, Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 2003 to acknowledge that the arts have their own history and temporality, possess their own conventions and codes with meanings that transcend those of social communication. As the many recent studies in this field indicate, the social perspective has made our understanding of the arts more superficial. A study based on the social sciences investigates everything do with the visual arts, except the image itself. The emphasis on social interaction has rendered knowledge of historical forms of culture superfluous. As a consequence the ability to distinguish between art and mass culture becomes irrelevant. Postmodernism and interdisciplinary approaches have been able to develop within this broadening of cultural research but a price has had to be paid: namely that the disciplinary boundaries become indistinct and that the value of theoretical terms is no longer acknowledged. The advantage of historical formalism is that it focuses on the cultural forms as they present themselves historically. It investigates the cultural morphology layer for layer, analyses the mutual relationship between these layers, tracks down the resulting meanings and provides insight into the nature of new meanings thus generated. In this manner a historical-formalist perspective accommodates a potential to analyse a great range of discursive and non-discursive formations in time, space and culture. Heidi de Mare Leiden, 10 November 2002 729 

VRIJE UNIVERSITEIT THE HOUSE AND THE RULES OF THOUGHT A cultural-historical research into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats, Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten ACADEMIC DISSERTATION in order to obtain the degree of doctor of the Vrije Universiteit of Amsterdam, by authority of the Rector Magnificus prof. dr. T. Sminia, to defend publicly in the presence of the Doctorate Committee of the Faculty of Arts on Tuesday 28 January 2003 at 1.45 p.m. the university auditorium, De Boelelaan 1105 by Heidi de Mare born in Amsterdam supervisors prof. dr. Willem Th.M. Frijhoff prof. dr. Ed. S.H. Tan doctorate committee dr. Caroline van Eck, History of Early Modern Architectural Theory prof. dr. Marlite Halbertsma, Historical Aspects of Art and Culture prof. dr. Marijke Spies, Historical Literature prof. dr. Ilja M. Veltman, Art History and Iconology Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Website & research: https://heididemare.academia.edu/research https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Heidi-De-Mare https://maatschappelijkeverbeelding.nl/ 2 Preface vii Introduction. There is a House in Holland 1 Chapter 1. Sources and Methodology 1.1. 1.2. Sources 1.1.1. Simon Stevin and his Architectural Treatise [6] 1.1.2. The Houwelick by Jacob Cats 1.1.3. Pieter de Hooch and his paintings Methodological principles of historical formalism 1.2. Introduction. A cultural-historical study of the arts 1.2.1. 1.2.2. 1.2.3. 1.2.4. Chapter 2. 2.1. 2.2. A history of the arts The arts as formal signifying systems Source criticism Vocabulary, text analysis and deployment 21 37 53 69 75 85 97 105 Simon Stevin and the Liberated House [20] The Arrangement of the House 2.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the House [22] 2.1.1. Matter and Firmness [27] 119 125 2.1.2. The Finding of the Cleansed Chamber [42] 2.1.3. Classification according to Nature [59] 2.1.4. The Properties of the House Drawing [79] Arrangements in the Field of Architectural Thinking 2.2.1. Column, Congruence and Comfortable Appearance [97] 2.2.2. The Perfect House Drawing as a Memory System [117] 141 157 177 2.2.3. The Art of Architecture, Reflection and Doing [136] 231 195 213 Chapter 3. Jacob Cats and the House as Honorable Enterprise 3.1. The Arrangement of the House as Enterprise 3.1. 3.1.1. 3.1.2. 3.1.3. 3.1.4. Introduction: The Arrangement of the House as Enterprise Household Goods and the Mistress of the House The Art of Lovemaking and the Tableau of Characters Passions and Moods The House as Place of Spirituality 3 251 265 285 305 325 3.2. Arrangements in the Art of Living Well 3.2.1. The House as Matter of Marital Honor 3.2.2. The House as Condensation of the Art of Living Well 3.2.3. Practicing the Eloquent Mean 341 361 379 Chapter 4. Pieter de Hooch, Samuel van Hoogstraten and the Chamber Scape 4.1. 4.2. The Arrangement on the Flat Plane 4.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the Flat Plane 4.1.1. Translucency of the Chamber Scape 4.1.2. The Study of the Chamber Lights 4.1.3. The Art of Suitable Color Matching 399 415 435 451 4.1.4. Bodies Arrangements in Visual Knowledge 4.2.1. The Art of Painting as Work 4.2.2. Pictorial Archive and the Chamber Scape as Sediment 4.2.3. The Moving Painting and the Craving Eye 473 4.2.4. From the Art of Painting to the Theory of Art 577 499 519 547 Chapter 5. Aggregation, Reflection and Speculation 5.1. Aggregation 5.1. 5.1.1. 5.1.2. 5.1.3. Introduction The study of Nature in the early modern period Visual knowledge The burgher and the benefits of natural philosophical knowledge 5.1.4 Aristotle in Holland 5.2. 591 597 613 627 639 Reflection 5.2.1. Aby Warburg and cultural history as scholarly field of study 5.2.2. Art history according to Panofsky, Wittkower and Gombrich 5.2.3. The Dutch art historians Van de Waal and Emmens 649 663 679 5.2.4. Plato and the Dutch Art and Architectural History 689 Epilogue. Closer to home: on the usefulness of cultural-historical sensibility Summary Notes Bibliography Visual material 709 719 733 969 1053 Origins visual material 1365 4 Images Chapter 2 – Beeldpagina’s [Bp] Bp.2.01-20 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170961/Hoofdstuk+2+afb+1+20.pdf Bp.2.21-40 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170963/Hoofdstuk+2+afb+21+40.pdf 5 CHAPTER 1 1.1.1 Simon Stevin and his Architectural Treatise ‘Simon Stevin has rightfully become the best known of the Southern Dutch physicists and mathematicians in the North (...). Stevin was the opposite of a scientist immersed in the theory. His engineering activities, his desire to link theory and practice, and his publications –in the vernacular – on subjects such as military science, meant that he was at the heart of social life. He was a member of numerous commissions dealing with the many patents filed by inventors and discoverers for the most improbable inventions in the early years of the Republic. He also stood at the cradle (...) of the school of engineering that was to train future engineers in Leiden.’ Klaas van Berkel 1985, In het voetspoor van Stevin. Geschiedenis van de natuurwetenschap in Nederland 1580-1940, pp. 16-17. Simon Stevin (1548-1620) came from Bruges in the Southern Netherlands. He was the natural son of Anthuenis Stevin and Cathelijne van der Poort. 1 Little is known with certainty about his youth, education and religious background. 2 For a long time, it was thought that he travelled around Europe before settling in the Northern Netherlands. In view of his remarks in various writings, it seems certain that he once visited Cracow (Poland), Norway and Prussia.3 The speculations about his religious background are the most divergent. This is not surprising because of his roots in Catholic Bruges, his departure to the Protestant Northern Netherlands, his personal contact with Prince Maurits and his utilitarian conception of religion as presented in the Burgherlick Leven (1590).4 What is certain is that in 1577 he worked as a clerk at the tax office of the Vrije van Bruges and that before that he may have had a similar job in Antwerp. 5 Only from 1581, when he settled in Leiden according to the population register, we can follow the course of his life a little better. On 16 February 1583 Stevin enrolled at the University of Leiden, founded in 1575, but nothing is known of his activities there.6 However, in 1586 the States of Holland granted him a patent for a new kind of watermill.7 In the period 1586-1588 Stevin, together with Johan Cornets de Groot, the later mayor of Delft and father of Hugo de Groot, tested the ideas Aristotle had formulated about fall and throw.8 In these experiments, Stevin proves Aristotle wrong, which gives him a certain name in natural science. Later writers have derived the following from this: ‘Stevin's whole scheme exudes an anti-Aristotelian spirit, which must have been encouraged by the whole environment of practical engineers and calculators in which he was involved, but also by his dealings with Rudolf Snellius, the admirer of Ramus’.9 6 Finally, it is known from this episode that in 1598 Stevin took part in a commission set up by the States of Holland to assess Plancius’ method of determining the geographical longitude at sea. 10 In addition to the philologistArabist J.J. Scaliger, the mathematicians Rudolf Snellius and Ludolph van Ceulen also took part in that committee. 11 Stevin is thus ‘among professors’, as Van den Heuvel writes.12 Furthermore, the contact with Prince Maurits (1567-1625) dates from the nineties of this century. Usually the year 1593 is mentioned, but the exact date is not known.13 Stevin acted as the Prince’s personal teacher. He takes care of his mathematics and physics education and publishes his teaching materials in Wisconstighe Ghedachtenissen [Mathematical ground thoughts] (1605-1608). In 1604, nominated by Prince Maurits, he is officially appointed by the States-General and the Council of State as ‘Quartermeester tot het afsteecken der quartieren’ [quartermaster to demarcate the quarters].14 Furthermore, on the advice of Maurits, he writes the curriculum for the school of engineering, the ‘Duytsche Mathematique’ which is affiliated with the University of Leiden. 15 As far as his private life is concerned, we know that Stevin lived in The Hague in 1598, where he moved into a newly built house at Raamstraat 47 in 1612.16 Around the same time he married Catharina Cray from Leiden; they had four children.17 Stevin dies between 20 February 1620 (dating of a certificate signed by him) and 10 April of that year (dating of a resolution of the States-General concerning his succession). 18 His widow remarried on March 14, 1621, to Maurits de Viry, bailiff at Hazerswoude, where the new family was established and expanded by six children. Stevin’s legacy – especially his manuscripts – ended up with scholars such as Isaac Beeckman, who published certain parts of it. 19 Stevin’s second son, Hendrick, tracked down some of his father’s writings in later years and published them posthumously. 20 The works written by Stevin during his life cover a large number of subjects. From 1580 onwards he published a series of texts first in Antwerp with Christopher Plantijn, later in Leiden (again with Plantijn) or in Rotterdam. 21 He wrote didactic works on mathematics – arithmetic as well as geometry – mechanics (especially statics), astronomy, hydrostatics, sluices, perspective, the arrangement of the military site and fortification. In his Thiende he introduced the decimal notation system for fractures.22 His scientific work shows that the Aristotelian perspective is waning. Stevin’s experimental research, as well as his defense of the heliocentric world view and the fact that he anticipates Pascal in hydrostatics, show the turning point in his writings. 23 In addition to work on mathematics and physics, Stevin also publishes on subjects such as bookkeeping, state affairs, logic, civil life and proposes a twelvetone music system. In this sense he fits within the Renaissance tradition where humanist scholars were broadly oriented. He also writes a defense of the special position of Dutch as a scientific language. His linguistic purism has enriched 7 Dutch with some of the words he devised, such as ‘evenwijdig’ [parallel], ‘evenredig’ [proportional] and ‘wiskunde’ [mathematics].24 His view of the Dutch language is related to the idea that once, before the Greeks, there was a Wysentijt [Age of Wisdom] in which scientific knowledge would have been perfect.25 ‘Although this theory is completely out of the blue,’ Dijksterhuis writes in 1943, ‘and it is not without surprise that one sees that Stevin’s thinking has been able to enter into such phantastic paths, it will be necessary to give a brief account of it: he himself was fully convinced of its truth and one only fully understands his views on language and science when one has seen how they are anchored in his reflections on the WIJSENTIJT ... The … theory of WIJSENTIJT consists of a unification of partly original ideas, partly ideas derived from others. To the latter, of course, must first and foremost be counted the commonplace representation of a primeval state of ideals, which has been lost through guilt and which must be recaptured.’26 Incidentally, Hugo de Groot supported this idea by creating a collection of classical quotations, which was included in the Wysentijt.27 How do the specialists now look at Stevin’s oeuvre? His most important publications – which were translated into English a few decades ago as Principal Works – would be typified by three things. 28 Firstly, they were sometimes not very original. This is because he often confined himself to a didactic overview of the state of affairs in a particular science, which, incidentally, is recognized as no small merit.29 Secondly, he wrote most of his work in Dutch. His argument was not only that Dutch as a scientific language would be the most suitable. He also wanted the knowledge to be made available to a wide circle such as seafarers, artisans and merchants. Ironically, it was precisely the use of the Dutch language that prevented his thinking from circulating among scholars in Europe. 30 And the third important point is Stevin’s view on the relationship between theory and practice, although the emphasis is not always the same. Some authors claim that Stevin considers a practice without theory impossible, whereas a theory without practice can exist.31 Others, such as Van Berkel, argue that Stevin’s preference was for a theory that was practical. Practice, or, in his terminology, the ‘daet’, should therefore have guided the theory, the ‘spiegeling’ [reflection].32 And Van den Heuvel emphasizes that ‘Stevin tries to optimize the usefulness of his theories on military arts and architecture by listening to the judgement’ of people from the military and construction practice.33 What comes to the fore everywhere in literature, however, is Stevin’s practical and down-to-earth attitude. Although over time the appreciation of these qualities has shifted, descriptions of Stevin’s attitude and personality can be noticed in terms of a figure who is ‘charitable and with a sober insight into human beings’ (Romein-Verschoor 1938), while others point at his ‘fresh way of tackling problems’, characterizing Stevin as ‘a hardworking and clear-thinking’, ‘kindhearted and very nice guy’ (Struik 1958) to more recent indications in terms like ‘rather opportunistic’, ‘cold-rationalistic’, ‘pragmatic rationalism’ (Van Berkel 1995) and ‘very utilitarian conception’ 8 (Ottenheym 1999).34 Although his work lacks ‘philosophical reflections’, he hardly refers to classical thinkers and does not develop his own philosophy of nature (such as Galilei and Descartes), he is nevertheless typified as one of ‘the new generation of scientists'’ Or, in Kox’s words: ‘Stevin emerges from his work as a pragmatist who did not concern himself with philosophical reflections. We miss the philosophical background we find, for example, in Galilei and Descartes. In contrast to these scholars, Stevin does not develop his own philosophy of nature. There are hardly any references in his work to the philosophers of antiquity, such as we found in Galilei, who repeatedly invoke Plato, and whom Aristotle fights extensively’.35 Stevin is a ‘vernufteling’ [someone with ingenuity], a term conceived by Hooft that refers to representatives of the ‘engineering science that operates outside the universities, focusing on practice’ as a translation of ‘ingenieur’ [engineer], a concept known at the time. 36 According to Van Berkel, this also distinguishes Stevin from the humanist scholar who is characterized by universality, who acquired knowledge and status through the study of antique books and primarily refined existing knowledge.37 For my research into Stevin’s ideas about the house, I have to elaborate on the reception of his treatise on architecture. In 1649, Stevin’s architectural treatise appeared under the title of Onderscheyt vande oirdeningh der steden [On the layout of towns], a publication edited, revised and rearranged by his son Hendrick.38 Already in 1938 Annie Romein-Verschoor showed great interest in Stevin’s study of the town and the house.39 She described him as a theorist who was critical of classical authority and had little interest in aesthetic embellishment. For, she writes, ‘he rejects all purposeless columns and pilasters.’ With a penchant for technical issues and a remarkable ‘organizing passion,’ she saw him as one of the first to engage in a rationalist manner with ‘the construction and grouping of the bourgeois dwelling’.40 After all, Stevin designed for the citizen a comfortable town with ‘overarching sewers and sidewalks provided with a roof’, where people were always in close proximity to the market and the church. The bourgeois dwelling that Stevin provided was well laid out, provided with sufficient light, clean water and toilet. It was free of odor, smoke or sight and in that sense already pointed ahead to our time. Since 1938, Stevin’s urban planning and architectural work has been written about with some regularity, and his town drawing has been frequently copied.41 According to E.J. Dijksterhuis, Stevin’s work provides insight into the way in which an ‘uninhibited, extremely reasonable and technically skilled man of exceptional mental capacity’ forms thoughts about ‘the most desirable layout of a town and of a dwelling’. His work is full of useful information about the architectural history and shows something of the domesticity of the time. 42. Nevertheless, Dijksterhuis concludes that the work ‘for the history of architecture ... undoubtedly has only minor significance’.43 It would take until 1978 before this 9 view is refuted. In his dissertation, the architectural historian E.R.M. Taverne discusses Stevin’s work in detail. He describes Stevin as a mediator between Italian and Dutch urban planning theories regarding the ‘città ideale’.44 In line with this, Van den Heuvel places Stevin’s view on the town within the sixteenthcentury history of Dutch fortification, which is strongly influenced by Italian engineers.45 Thanks to the many publications by Taverne, Van den Heuvel and other architectural historians as well as building engineers and town planners, Stevin’s urban planning work has now been rehabilitated. 46 Particularly in the history of Dutch urban planning his work has now been ‘given its rightful place’.47 This is in contrast to other countries, where Stevin’s contribution has hardly been mentioned in surveys of recent decades. 48 This is probably partly due to the absence of his architectural treatise in the Principal Works. This gap has now disappeared since Van den Heuvel’s proposed reconstruction of the original treatise, the Huysbou, has been translated into English. 49 Only recently, therefore, a change has begun to occur in the Stevin reception. Not only in architectural history but also in art historical and cultural-historical studies, Stevin’s architectural work appears with a certain regularity in word and image. 50 The studies on Stevin’s architectural treatise raise three issues: 1. the ideal city in relation to practice; 2. the house and 3. the composition of the treatise as a whole. How have these themes been interpreted until today? The city map consists of a rectangle with series of squares separated by a three-part canal system. Most authors emphasize the simplicity, the well-organized clarity of this urban form, which is tailored to the wetlands of Holland.51 Reference is also made to the basic shape of the square, which functions as a module in the plan. 52 A number of communal facilities are located in the four corners and on the central axis, such as markets, churches, the stock exchange and town hall, the school and the house of correction. On the one hand, it is believed that Stevin's drawing reproduces the time-honored chessboard pattern already practiced by the Greeks and Romans.53 There is also talk of reminiscences of Dürer’s city and other ‘ideal’ rectangular cities of the time. 54 On the other hand, authors regularly underline that Stevin’s design anticipates the later twentieth-century planning thinking, given his strictly formal and planned settlement of functions, accessibility and traffic. 55 Stevin’s town map fits in with Renaissance thinking about the city in which harmony and well-being go hand in hand.56 Nevertheless, Taverne distinguishes his city from the often-circular humanist radial cities. He regards it as an ‘bookkeeping city’ for two reasons.57 Firstly, Stevin’s principles of pragmatism, discipline and simple reproducibility (as previously developed for the military camp) would be clearly evident here. Secondly, such an order would meet the demands of efficient and lucrative parceling, demands made in practice by new trading cities. In this sense, the urban design is not a plan to be realized. Taverne 10 sees it as a ‘pilot model for the most vivid demonstration and application of scientific theories in the field of building technology and aesthetics’58 Stevin’s grid city would thus be dominated by the mercantile spirit, experimental research, humanist ideals, land surveying, aesthetics and military order. It would have functioned as a ‘pilot model’ in the political-economic power play in Holland, especially in the concrete urban development of Amsterdam in 1613. The ‘Mercator Sapiens’ plays an important role in this interplay of power.59 The wise merchant is, given his financial-political status, able to mediate between the humanistic ideas and the Dutch urban and technical developments with its specific water management. Amidst these developments, Stevin’s ‘city model’ is, for Taverne, ‘the pre-eminent example of an urban grid, a city form which, through its dimensions, parceling and ground motif, can moreover be traced back to a biblical origin’.60 Taverne also points out that the blossoming of architecture and the changes in Dutch cities at the beginning of the seventeenth century have an economic and political background. They are partly related to the political independence of the Republic through the struggle against the Spaniards. For another part, they are related to economic progress, increasing trade activities, an explosively growing population and the enormous land reclamation that was achieved in Holland by pumping out lakes in which substantial investments were made (as by the poet and Grand Pensionary of Holland, Jacob Cats).61 After urban expansion, Dutch cities – such as Amsterdam, Leiden, Rotterdam and Haarlem – grew in size, and engineering and civil technology also flourished as a result of the reclaimed area.62 For Utrecht, the city designs were not realized until the early nineteenth century.63 Thus, we see how Stevin’s town plan is slowly but surely being drawn towards modern civil engineering thinking by his commentators. Driven by the growing economy, the reasoning is that a way of thinking emerges that is indicated in terms of simplicity, clarity, overview, functionality and pragmatism. In fact, the vocabulary of the modern engineer is used to interpret a seventeenth century drawing of a town. This is a working method that seems questionable to me. I therefore plead for a more historical approach that acknowledges the difference between seventeenth century and modern thinking and avoids anachronisms. As mentioned earlier, the recent interpretation of Stevin’s work is not only about his town plan. A second point was his focus on the house. After her first introduction in 1938, Romein-Verschoor again devoted attention to Stevin’s contribution to the development of the house in 1957, in a brief history of the household. ‘Simon Stevin, Quartermaster of Maurits, mathematician, fortress builder, inventor and passionate rationalist, anticipated the town planning by designing an entirely rectangular model town, but also planned a model house, built in closed blocks to prevent burglary and in which, more than was usual in 11 practice, he was concerned with hygienic requirements: purification of rainwater, the only available water, as long as it wasn’t scooped out of the canals, drainage and odorless “heymelicken” [water closets], because he wasn’t that modern or he insisted that every chamber had to give access to such an indispensable facility’.64 It was only much later that Stevin’s house was examined within the history of architecture. Taverne mentions it in his dissertation with reference to the Byvough der stedenoirdeningh: van de oirdeningh der delen eens huvs. Met 't gheen daer ancleeft [Appendix to the layout of towns: on the layout of the parts of a house. With that which belongs to it].65 Initially this material raised various questions among architectural historians. After all, Stevin’s house deviated from tradition on a number of points. Compared to the Italian Renaissance façades, for example, the façade construction of Stevin’s house would be ‘enigmatic’.66 For example, the façade hierarchy is lacking while the roof is invisible. The blocks of houses attract attention because of their formidable size (240 by 180 feet). The enclosed chambers of the houses are found to be far too voluminous (9 x 9 m).67 Recently, Van den Heuvel pointed out that Stevin’s drawings of his block of houses and ‘civic dwelling’ are linked in a more abstract way. 68 They should not be regarded as ideal models, nor as ‘blueprints’ that can be realized in practice. Instead, according to Van den Heuvel, Stevin’s designs of city and house are ‘test setups’ or ‘simulation models’ that investigate an architectural problem. ‘Whereas the literature has tacitly assumed the realization of Stevin’s dwelling and town, despite characterizations such as ‘ideal models’, here they are rather conceived as simulation models of (parts of) a practice. Simulation models with the primary aim of discussing, visualizing and testing proposed (partial) solutions, without immediately arriving at an integrated and conclusive system that can be directly translated into a concrete application’. In the test setup some factors from an actual case are isolated, imitated and tested. 69 Each solution to a problem is therefore relative, because depending on other factors, the solutions do not result in a rational, complete and coherent system. The models would primarily perform a methodical-didactic and not a practical function. 70 Stevin’s interest would be in mirror symmetry, the incidence of light, looking in, but also in the social program. All mentioned factors are handled step by step by Stevin in the logical ranking. Annie Romein-Verschoor already puts this into words when she writes about his ‘model house’: ‘Stevin does not give architectural models but examines point by point the problems that can arise in designing a city plan and in civil housing’.71 His orderly presentation can be seen in the drawings of house and block that accompany his description. The square again plays an important role in the creation of the uniform and simple geometric figures of the blocks of houses, according to Taverne. ‘In Stevin’s models, the mathematical grid pattern of the ideal city is transposed into the individual building blocks, each of which in turn consists of housing units of strictly square shapes.’72 Van den Heuvel continues 12 on this track when he concludes: ‘The illustrations of the dwelling, the city, the urban expansion are all models. No models to be followed strictly, but models in which a number of architectural issues are analyzed, visualized and solutions are provided for some of these issues. (...) Although we cannot speak of a coherent system, the “models” are rational in the sense that they provide a clear insight into a number of architectural issues and their elaboration in a number of logical steps’.73 The social order is reflected in the functional layout (in the dining chamber, kitchen, bedchamber), the traffic system and the separation between private and public.74 The hierarchical relationship between the sexes is an implicit part of this. It is certainly true,’ writes Van den Heuvel, ‘that Stevin tacitly acknowledges a difference in level between men and women, especially in the small bourgeois dwelling.’75 This last point has also been made by others, and this interpretation cannot be seen in isolation from the more general ‘social turn’ that has colored the interpretation since the 1980s. 76 Brita Rang (1994) sees this historical period marked by growing individualism, greater emotional engagement and a more comradeship of the Dutch Protestants. Given this situation, Stevin would combine his modern scientific insights with functionalist and technical facilities in order to create a geometry of space. 77 ‘Therefore, “l'esprit géométrique” of the mathematician Stevin was primarily related to the development of modern western science and its methods in that period’.78 Rang therefore concludes with regard to Stevin’s house that he gave an architectural response to the inner urge to develop, as a step towards our modern individuality: ‘It seems that Stevin’s architectural concept fostered such early modern tendencies of individualization and autonomy. Intimate space for the family as well as for family members was created. Privacy to the outside world and privacy within the house were important aspects on different levels of the plan. Therefore, I would argue that Stevin’s concepts of classification and spatial segregation were fed by the idea to shape “chambers of one’s own”.’79 Martha Hollander (1990) also describes Stevin as a mathematician who invests his political ideas about social hierarchy from Het Burgherlick Leven [Civic Life] in ‘the ideal urban middle-class house’.80 Underlying the spatial segregation is a “new concept of privacy,” a concept that early on established a male and female sphere in Holland. ‘Stevin articulated the boundaries between the house and the street in terms of masculine and feminine roles. The woman’s domain explicitly includes the front door, which she guards carefully as chief custodian of the family dwelling. Stevin and Willem Goeree also establish sexual segregation within the house, demarcating spatial boundaries with walls and corridors to ensure that “masculine” and “feminine” areas are separated.’ 81 Stevin’s mathematical, rational and clear approach to house building has often been associated with the modernization that began to manifest itself in science at 13 the beginning of the seventeenth century. Thus, Ottenheym writes: ‘Around 1600 there was a wider application of mathematics in human business in the Netherlands. This did not emanate from artists but from practice-oriented scientists who at that time acted as intermediaries between pure science and craftsmanship. With the help of mathematics, human activities could be made simpler and more efficient in many ways. The most important figure in this development was Simon Stevin (...). From fortification and land surveying, the application of mathematics in the Republic in the early seventeenth century also reached architecture’.82 At the same time this was in line with the architectural theoretical development at that time. ‘Around 1600 and in the first decades of the 17th century,’ Ottenheym explains the developments, ‘people became increasingly aware of the mathematical structure behind the examples from Antiquity and Italy. Simon Stevin (...) in particular (...) can be attributed an important role in the penetration of mathematical orders in everyday life and especially in architecture’.83 Partly in the work of Hendrick de Keyser, but especially with the architectural painters Jacob van Campen and Pieter Post and the architect Philips Vingboons, tendencies are recognizable that indicate that people had little to do with the imaginative capriciousness of Renaissance architecture. Lieven de Key is considered a prominent example of this.84 Carel Van Mander had already criticized this style in 1604, and around the same time Stevin had also turned against the ‘exuberant and fancyful façade decorations.’ Ottenheym emphasized that people ‘preferred a sober, rigid architecture’.85 This wish only became reality in 1625 when Jacob van Campen built the Coymanshuis on Keizersgracht. 86 This double dwelling became, according to Ottenheym, the benchmark of Dutch classicism.87 ‘The ornament was confined to the classical pilaster orders and fitted into a severe mathematical pattern that was also followed by the walls and windows’.88 Ottenheym’s aim was to rehabilitate this Dutch architecture (to which he counted not only the work of Van Campen, but also that of Philips Vingboons, Pieter Post and Constantijn Huygens). 89 Until then, this architecture had been unfairly neglected. Since Busken Huet and Huizinga, based on national sentiments, the emphasis in modern architectural history had been on the playful Renaissance architecture of the early days of the Republic.90 This desire for a new kind of dwelling would stem from the increased prosperity. The wealthy merchants were able to commission the construction of dwellings on one of the many prominent canals in the developing cities. 91 Imposing but soberly stylized façades formed the backdrop behind which a representative lifestyle flourished. A lifestyle that architectural historians derive from recent historical research on the seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Dutch elite. This research ‘clearly shows that the growing wealth in the Republic was the basis for a new, more dignified lifestyle adopted by the most prominent among the citizens. They tried to distinguish themselves from other social strata by different behavior and special purchases. Outward display was one of the most striking features of the dignified life that was meant to accentuate one’s acquired social position. The prestige was also determined by an imposing mansion, a country 14 house, carriages, horses and staff. The new classicism was more subdued and distant in character than the exuberant and sometimes playful façade compositions from the beginning of the century. But this new style was not only more subdued but also more imposing. With this combination of distance and grandeur, the classicist baroque became the appropriate setting for respectable life in the Golden Age’.92 At the same time, it met the higher living requirements, such as sufficient light, heat and smoke-free chambers, and new types of chambers were created.93 On the one hand, representative spaces were created that could be ‘seen as the response to the growing need of well-to-do citizens in the middle of the seventeenth century to lead stately lives’.94 On the other hand, the families living there were increasingly in need of a comfortable home in which they could create their own atmosphere.95 Partly due to the ever-increasing sophistication of the home, the need to separate living from cooking became increasingly stronger. 96 The idea is that this would have led to a new residential architecture that would have a more functional floor plan differentiation and would have become looser from the street.97 In other words, the building-historical development would reflect an ‘ever-increasing housing refinement’ and increasing individualization. 98 ‘From a sociological point of view, this was a turning point in the way of living; the group or family in the dwelling could divide itself among different chambers and thus did lose cohesion’, Meischke concludes. 99 The third point at which Stevin plays a role in architectural history concerns the composition of his actual architectural treatise. Taverne devoted a lengthy review to this matter in 1984, arguing that Stevin’s treatise involves three separate writings (on the city, on the house, and on house building) in general. Previously, others had already made proposals about the correct content of Stevin’s architectural treatise: Isaac Beeckman (1624), Hendrick Stevin (1649), Alexis Brialmont (1846) and later Cornelis de Waard (1942) who published and commented on Beeckman’s accounts.100 Taverne concludes that Stevin fits into the tradition of architectural practices since Vitruvius, so-called Vitruvianism.101 Although paraphrasing, Stevin takes over – besides Vitruvius – much from authors such as Alberti, Cataneo, Di Marchi, Dürer, Palladio, Scamozzi and Serlio who have already written about architectural and urban planning issues.102 At the same time, Taverne underlines that Stevin’s critical attitude towards tradition stems from his attention to the concrete Dutch wetland soil conditions and economic prosperity.103 ‘The special character of Stevin’s book on urban planning lies in its twofold structure: although the structure and layout clearly fit into the tradition of the rules and regulations that have applied since Vitruvius with regard to the founding of cities, a large number of details can be derived directly from the conditions of the average Dutch city’.104 In the most recent reconstruction, Van den Heuvel states that Stevin originally envisaged only one comprehensive treatise on the Huysbou. Precisely this comprehensiveness of the subjects could 15 explain why the treatise was never completed. For example, some passages relating to water management such as sluices, dikes and harbors were originally intended for the Huysbou.105 At a later stage, therefore, Stevin probably decided to include certain passages in other writings that formed a more appropriate context. In retrospect, according to Van den Heuvel, it can be concluded that this water management permeates all layers of Stevin’s Huysbou. ‘From the micro level of toilet drainage to the large-scale approach of cleaning the city canals, Stevin dealt with the detrimental aspects of the water. Conversely, Stevin also focused on water collection for the dwelling and realized that, if properly managed, the water could contribute to the accessibility, prosperity and safety of the city. Water turned out to be the element of Stevin’s Dutch architectural theory. 106 These practical circumstances, however, do not detract from the fact that Stevin’s treatise testifies to a scientific and rationalist approach. 107 In Stevin’s conception of beauty, of mirror symmetry, of the status of perception, and of standardization in the colonnade – apart from a few ‘very extreme positions’ that Stevin took with regard to the colonnade – a more modern scientific design method would generally announce itself. 108 ‘From a divine art that could only be achieved by following the rules of Antiquity, architecture becomes a scientific issue that can be emphasized empirically. With Stevin and especially with Isaac Beeckman we find observations that Descartes would develop into an entirely new natural philosophical system’, writes Van den Heuvel. 109 The name of the revolutionary innovator who was the first to question the authority of classical writers on architecture would therefore not belong to the French architect Claude Perrault (1613-1688) but to Stevin.110 According to Van den Heuvel, Stevin ‘completely distanced himself’ from the conceptions of beauty since Vitruvius, in which he ‘already went much further than Perrault’.111 That once again brings Dutch classicism to mind.112 This Classicism focused on the application of a few classical rules from architectural theory that had been transmitted in the work of Palladio, Serlio, Scamozzi and Vignola in particular. Since the work of Rudolf Wittkower, Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism (1949), we know that from Alberti onwards, humanist architecture was dominated by a rationalist pursuit of pure proportions based on whole numbers, symmetry and the correct application of the order of columns. 113 In the ‘mathematical design systems’ of these Renaissance architects, the use of clear proportions was paramount.114 For this reason, the geometric proportions – known as the Golden Section (Φ) since the nineteenth century – have never been applied in classicist design.115 Only a few medieval rules of thumb such as the geometric quadrature were integrated in the ‘classicist systems of measurement’.116 ‘This system with successive √2 ratios was also applied in classical antiquity and is specially mentioned by Vitruvius. This tradition was still so alive in the sixteenth century that Palladio had smoothly incorporated the √2 ratios into his series of harmonic numerical ratios. However, neither in the Middle Ages nor in the 16 sixteenth century people spoke of √2 ratios, but they constructed them geometrically as the ratio between the side of a square (1) to its diagonal (√2) or they used the arithmetical approximation 5:7’. What Ottenheym brings to the conclusion: ‘All in all, it won’t be surprising when the ratio 1: √2 also occurs frequently in seventeenth-century architecture in Holland'’117 The only tangible proof of this part of the design process is a drawing (1672) that Jacob Lois made afterwards of the Schielandhuis in Rotterdam (built in 1662).118 The musical, mathematical proportions were considered of great significance for Renaissance architectural theory – following Wittkower’s interpretation.119 Precisely because of the use of mathematics, architecture in the Renaissance became a science and the mathematically trained master builder was given a coordinating role within the building process, also in Holland around 1600. 120 The humanists saw this mathematical system as a reflection of divine harmony. Although this idea existed in Dutch classicism, ordinary builders and craftsmen were not always aware of the philosophical ideal. ‘In the Netherlands, the prints by Vredeman de Vries, in particular, were responsible for the wide distribution of this new ornament, which could undoubtedly be incorporated as decoration into the traditional design and construction method. The humanist ideal of the ordered world remained completely out of sight for the time being’.121 In Holland it was architects such as De Bray, Van Campen, Post and Vingboons who shaped Dutch classicism. ‘In their architecture,’ Ottenheym summarizes, ‘the focus was not so much on the richness of the ornament, but on the ideal of harmonious proportions with which a perfect, absolute beauty could be achieved. A beauty that was related to the divine mathematics with which heaven and earth were ordered by the Creator. This aesthetics, based on simple design principles of arithmetic and geometric proportions, had also been the starting point of Italian architects and theorists of the 15th and 16th centuries’.122 The interest in ancient and humanist architectural theory in the Netherlands was mainly carried by scholars and ‘well-read painters’ belonging to an ‘erudite and artistic circle’ (‘a small group of truly interested connoisseurs’, ‘an elitist avant-garde (...) who stood at the cradle of Dutch classicism’), who – apart from classical heritage – mainly studied mathematics. 123 In addition, there were ‘a few rare architects who were really able to fathom the systematic regulations of the classical canon and apply them freely without feeling hindered in their creativity’.124 The writings of Carel van Mander and Samuel Marolois are examples of the growing stream of writings ‘on the correct application of mathematical principles in the various arts’, according to Ottenheym.125 In particular, Constantijn Huygens, ‘the great promoter of this new architecture in the Republic’ contributed to the spread of the classical architectural heritage. 126 He was interested in its theoretical background and in the ‘as pure as possible’ application of Italian classicism. 127 For this purpose he collected architectural practices and translations as well as comments. 128 In this role he also maintained 17 contacts with Van Campen, who was also gripped by the more intellectual side of things. ‘Without reservation, Huygens can be regarded as a central figure who was of eminent significance for the development of this architectural style in Holland’, writes De Jongh in 1973. To which he adds: ‘That Huygens deliberately wanted to act as a pioneer and guide “instruendae meliori Architecturi” is evident from the interesting manuscript entitled Domus (1639) ... He says he was outraged that the Netherlands, excelling in every branch of the arts and sciences, exhibited nothing but ignorance in the field of architecture’.129 Twenty years later, Ottenheym in fact reaffirms this when he summarizes the role of both scholars as follows: ‘Together with Van Campen, Huygens penetrated to the core of classical architecture, the ordering according to a conclusive system of proportions’.130 According to Van den Heuvel, Stevin takes a similar attitude to tradition in a certain sense. Stevin may show a certain affinity, but in the end the critical and scientific element is more important to him. And, according to Van den Heuvel, this shows that while Stevin was concerned with architecture, the city, and the house, these were rather metaphors and his ambitions were more about the development of science in general. His oeuvre shows ‘Stevin’s realization of a future ideal with roots in a distant past: a logically ordered, step-by-step development of science to the original very highest level of the Wysentijt’.131 Thus, the contours of ‘Stevin’ are clear as they emerge from recent architectural history literature. It is stressed that Stevin was predominantly critical of tradition and showed an urge for innovation in numerous fields of science. This is explained by his down-to-earth, technical, experimental and anti-Aristotelian thinking and the pragmatism associated with it. 132 With Stevin, it is believed, the ‘history of scientific technical education’ began.133 It is true that Stevin has some peculiar ideas about a supposed ‘Wysentijt’, but his reckoning with numerous mythical elements in ancient thought is ‘beneficent’.134 In historiography, this image of Stevin has been confirmed and transmitted as a cliché. Jonathan Israel in The Republic 1477-1806 (1996) portrays Stevin as one of the ‘top engineers’ in Holland, as ‘a brilliant mathematician and geometrician’, with many ‘technical skills’, in short ‘the most important physicist, mathematician and engineer in the Republic’, who considered it useful to ‘spread applied science among the people’.135 In this way, a typical ‘modern’ reduction is implemented for each of the topics discussed here concerning Simon Stevin. As far as the city map is concerned, Stevin is seen as a forerunner of the urban planning engineer of modern times. As far as the bourgeois dwelling is concerned, he would fit into the series of rationalist architects who provided the wealthy bourgeoisie with a lifestyle of its own. And as for the status of the treatise as a whole, given his commitment to water management, he would above all represent a break with the tradition of humanism. On all these points, the figure of Stevin would already in the 18 seventeenth century point to ideals that became dominant much later in history. But in fact, the opposite has happened and all kinds of authors from our time have projected (consciously or unconsciously) certain ideals on Stevin’s work that one identifies with the development of the Netherlands. The fact that Simon Stevin comes from Flanders is sometimes forgotten, Vanpaemel remarked in 1995. In the history of science (and, by extension, in the history of architecture), too much emphasis has long been placed on the modern and revolutionary in Stevin’s work. To subsequently conclude that Stevin was at the cradle of the Dutch natural science and architecture has created a new myth. 136 To denounce this myth historically and scientifically shows courage and has not yet been countered by the aforementioned authors who have contributed to this myth formation. This makes a new analysis of Stevin’s work not only a challenge, but also a necessity from a scientific point of view. 19 CHAPTER 2 SIMON STEVIN AND THE LIBERATED HOUSE ‘How to start a House construction and then build it in an orderly manner' As soon as the decision and the specifications of the property are established, the Carpenter prepares the Wood, and firstly the Beams, Façade, Door and Window frames, and also the Cap trusses. The Stonemason cuts everything that was not found ready-made or in stock. Meanwhile, one Digs and Piles: the Foundation is guided and retrieved; Basement, Cistern and Privy wells are cut out; others do it afterwards, one raises the Side Walls to the second floor; one leads the Beams (or Binder if there should be Ribs) and the Trimmings and Parallel Beams. Meanwhile, they are preparing the Cap trusses: and the Parapet was mutually retrieved when there are no more floors to put on. One leads the Truss-beam, puts the roof construction on it, puts roof Windows, and the Windbracings are fixed to the roof, one puts the Maypole on it, and if the Master is lenient, one drinks half a barrel or a ton of Beer, and gnaws a Ham. The Spars is Nailed down, the Roof is covered with Boards, Laths, Slates or Tiles; the Lead is led into the Gutters and Throats; one covers it with the Slates or roof Tiles are hung; in the meantime, the Lower Part of the Façade and the Door and Window Frames are put in place, and all the Rebates are covered with Straw to prevent them from bumping and splintering. One picks up the façade front and back to the second Floor, sets the Cross Window frames front and back from the second Floor, and one picks up the Façades with the rest of the frames up to the Stud. The Woodwork is Primed to prevent cracking and pulling; as many Ribs as necessary are put in; in the meantime, the Fireplaces and Chimney pipes are fetched: Spiral staircases and Front Steps are installed; Doorframes and Fencing of Chambers, Kitchens, Galleries and other quarters, first the lower ones then the upper ones, and lock everything up square; meanwhile preparing Doors and Windows; one inserts them, while the Blacksmith prepares the Iron of Locks and Latches. One fits the Windows while the Glazier prepares the Glasses. The Ironwork is struck, and one makes Doors and Windows Ready, and puts them in the Primer: one places the Lofts and puts them without shifting, from below in the Primer. One makes fixed Box Beds, Alcoves, Pantry, Chimneys, Portals, Frames, Panelling and Wall Coverings for Doors, and puts them in the Primer. The Walls and Fences are plastered, Small White Stones are placed and coats the Tiled Roof; Meanwhile one has placed the Pump and Sink, connected the cistern, or piped in. One lays the Floor stones, and planks the Chamber floors, covers the Plinths and Plasters the whole House from back to front. One sets the Glasses, and Paints outside and inside well. That some do before the Glasses are placed, so as not to pollute them anywhere. Such a manner of succession in building was often done in Holland. Willem Goeree 1681, General Architecture. According to the antique and contemporary manner, pp. 145-146. 20 ‘Hoemen een Huisgebouw aanvangen en vervolgens in orden opbouwen kan’ d’Ordinantie en bestek dan eerstelijk tot de Erf vastgesteld zijnde, zoo maakt den Timmerman het Hout klaar, en wel met namen eerst de Balken, Peui, Deur en Vensterkassijnen, en ook wel de Kapbinten. Den Steenhouwer, houwd alles wat niet gereed of op zijn maat in voorraat gevonden werd. Onder wijlen Graaftmen en Heidtmen: het Fondament word geleid en opgehaalt; Kelder, Regenbak en Zekreetkuilen gesteken; andere doen ‘t naderhand, men trekt de Zydelmuren op tot d’eerste stadie; men leid de Balken (of Moerbalken zooder Ribben moeten zijn) en de Reveelen en Strijkbalken. Men haalt de Zydelmuuren op tot de tweede Stadie, en leid wederom Balken. Ondertusschen maaktmen de Kapbinten klaar: en de Borstweering werd wederzijts opgehaald zooder geen Stadien meer op moeten. Men leid de Span-plaat, steldt’er de kap op, zet dak Kassijnen, en de Windbanden aan de kap vast zijnde, zetm’er de Mey op, en zoo ‘t Heerschap mild is, drinktmen een half vat of een Ton Bier, en kluift een Hammeken. Men Spijkert de Sparren op, men Plankt, of Lat het Dak, tot Schalien of tot Pannen: ‘t Loot werd in de Goten en Kelen geleid; men dekt Schalien, of hangt Pannen; ondertusschen stelt men de Peuy van de Voorgevel, en Deur en Venster Kassijnen, en verzorgt al de Sponnings met Stroo, voor stoten en af splinteren. Men steekt het Houtwerk in de Grondverw voor ‘t scheuren en trekken; men legerd Ribben in zoo’er wezen moeten; terwijl haaltmen de Schouwen en Schouwpijpen op: men steld Wenteltrappen en Bordestrappen; Deurkassijnen en Schutzelmuuren van Kamers, keukens, galderijen en andere vertrekken, eerst d’onderste dan de bovenste, en sluit alles vierkant op; ondertussen maaktmen Deuren en Vensters gereet; men pastze in, terwijl de Smit ‘t Yzer, dat is, Sloot en Klinkwerk vaardig maakt. Men past de Ramen in terwijl de Glazemaker de Glazen gereet maakt. Het Yzerwerk wordt aangeslagen, en men maakt Deuren en Vensters Gangvaardig, en steektze in de Grondverw: men legt de Zolders en steektze zonder noch te verdrijven, van onder in de Grondverw. Men maakt vast staande Koetzen, Alkoven, Spinden, Schouwmantels, Portalen, Lijsten, Lambrissen en Belegzels om Deuren, en steektze in de Grondverw. Men Pleisterd de Wanden, en Schutzelmuuren, zet Witte Steentjes en strijkt het Pannedak. Tussen beiden heeft men Pomp en Watersteen gesteld, regenbak opgehaalt, of toegeleid. Men leid de Vloersteenen, en Plankt de Kamervloeren, strijkt de Zoomen en Planeerd het gantze Huis van achter tot vooren op. Men stelt de Glazen, en Schildert buiten en binnen voor goet. Dat eenige voor ‘t stellen der Glazen doen, omze nergens te bemorssen. Een dusdanigen manier van volgbouwing werd veelzints in Holland geoeffent. Willem Goeree 1681, d'Algemeene Bouwkunde. Volgens d’Antyke en hedendaagse manier, pp. 145-146. 21 2.1. Introduction. The Arrangement of the House With these words Willem Goeree describes in 1681 the order in which people usually build a house in Holland. 137 We get to know the elements of the house – trusses, beams, walls and window frames. We see how successively the basement, the ground floor, the lower front, the façade, the upper floor and finally the roof are placed. Internally, the house is divided – here a kitchen, there a chamber and also a spiral staircase. Nail-resistant furniture is placed, such as box bed and chimney. The woodwork is primed, gutters, cross-windows and doors are placed, and hinges and locks are applied. We even find out that one celebrates the reaching of the highest point in a ritual way. But whether this is done with half a keg or a ton of beer, and whether some ham is eaten with it, depends on the generosity of the patron. At first glance it seems that Goeree here introduces us to seventeenth century building practice. He gives a quick sketch of the practical issues involved in building a house at that time. Some hints he gives can also be varied, such as the most appropriate time to dig the cesspool. Building a house turns out to be a complicated process, requiring different kinds of knowledge and putting various craftsmen to work. Goeree mentions the carpenter, stonemason, glazier and blacksmith. However, the question is whether we are only dealing here with a description of the building practice. Why does Goeree actually include this description in a theoretical treatise on architecture? In the first half of his book D’Algemeene Bouwkunde (General Architecture) he deals with architectural-theoretical topics such as the origins of architecture, the classical orders of architecture (columns), and discusses antique building types such as temples and racetracks. It is only in the second part that he moves on to contemporary architecture and deals with ‘general house building’. According to his enumeration this includes ‘all other genera of construction works’ such as towers, bridges or large wall constructions and ‘houses’ of various kinds.138 He mentions the town hall and the poorhouse, but also other types like the House of God, the mansion, the country house, the small farmhouse and the stable. 139 Is the aforementioned description of the building process really reducible to a practical recording by Goeree of the building practices at that time? What does he actually mean when he talks in 1681 about things like ‘regenbak’ (cistern) and ‘pomp’ (pump), ‘keuken’ (kitchen) and ‘zekreet’ (privy) or ‘schouw’ (chimney)? In this context, how should his loose comments about basic knowledge of building materials be interpreted – such as his instruction to fill rebates with straw or the use of primer to prevent cracking and pulling of the wood? Given Goeree’s diverse observations, is it really clear what he understands by architecture and what he sees as the tasks of the architect? Now Goeree was not the only one who wrote about house building in the Netherlands and certainly not the first. He was rather the last in a row to which 22 also Philips Vingboons, Nicolaus Goldmann, Salomon de Bray, Charles den Beste and Simon Stevin belong. Despite his not too friendly reference to Stevin, many aspects of the above-mentioned excerpt had already been discussed by Stevin. He, too, talks about the cistern and kitchen, about the different classical columns and the building materials, about the tasks of the master builder, about the light, the classification of people and the things in the house. To understand the terms in which Simon Stevin thought of the ‘house,’ and how these terms may have shifted over the course of the seventeenth century, it is first necessary to clarify the framework in which architectural knowledge is organized. To examine that framework one must, as Hanno-Walter Kruft wrote in his Geschichte der Architekturtheorie (1985), ‘einzelne historische Systeme immanent zu verstehen, aus ihren eigenen Prämissen und ihren eigenen Anspruch, bevor man durch Vergleich Entwicklungslinien nachzeichnen kann, die vielleicht auf Konstanten – oder auch nur auf historisch begrenzte Denkgewohnheiten – schließen lassen. Das einzelne theoretische System ist an seiner eigenen Zielvorstellung zu messen. Die Frage hat jeweils zu lauten: Was will es, und für wen ist es bestimmt?‘ [to understand individual historical systems immanently, from their own premises and their own claims, before one can trace lines of development through comparison, which perhaps allow one to conclude on constants - or even only on historically limited habits of thought. The individual theoretical system must be measured against its own objectives. The question must always be What does it want, and who is it for?]140 Architectural-theoretical thoughts from the early modern period with regard to the house cannot be detached from their context. They get their value only through the coherence in which they have been thought of or are combined with drawings.141 The history of architectural theory shows that there have been different focuses, both thematically and in terms of visualization. Kruft points out that the architectural theory of the sixteenth century places an emphasis on column arrangement, while in the twentieth century it paid a great deal of attention to mass housing.142 The history of architectural theory also shows that in the course of time a different value has been attached to the architectural drawing. In his writings Vitruvius sufficed with eight drawings, while in the early modern period many books on columns appear in which the drawing with the architectural details has become the main focus. Therefore, the relative weight of an architectural drawing must be determined for each time. Incidentally, this determination – and, according to Forssman (1956), this applies even to these books on columns – cannot be made without looking at the context. ‘Die Säulenbücher sind viel studiert oder wenigstens durchblättert worden, wobei man sie hauptsächlich als Vorlagen betrachtete. Viele ausgeführte Werke der dekorativen Kunst konnte man mehr oder weniger exakt auf gewisse Vorbilder in der Säulenliteratur zurückführen. Die oftmal trockenen und schwerfälligen Texte 23 hat man weniger gelesen. Ich glaube, dass sich in ihnen aber doch Gedanken niedergeschlagen haben, die nicht ohne Weiteres aus den Tafeln herauszulesen sind, und die gleichwohl zum Verständnis dessen beitragen, was Theoretiker und Praktiker mit ihren Säulen und Zierraten gemeint haben‘ [The Säulenbücher have been studied a lot, or if they are to be preserved, both have been treated as predecessors. Many of the works of decorative art that have been executed could be returned more or less directly to certain pictures in the column literature. The oftentimes troubled and shabby textiles have not been seen as well. I believe that in them, however, there have been no thoughts which have not been withdrawn from the table without further examination and which, at the same time, contribute to the understanding of what theorists and practitioners have shared with their columns and seats].143 The architectural-historical research into a seventeenth-century manuscript can be organized in a number of ways.144 It is possible to deal with the writings chronologically and then follow each one closely, by mentioning the most important issues for each chapter. That has been Kruft’s way of working. Germann (1980) does something similar, although he focuses on the reception history of the oldest known architectural treatise by Vitruvius. This results in a chronological sequence of tracts describing the history (beginning, spread, defense, dismantling and end) of ‘vitruvianism’ in Western Europe. Another tried and tested method is to show how Italian Renaissance thinking has spread to the North in the course of time: Germany, the Netherlands, England and France. In this context, one can also ask the question how architectural theory relates to the building practice of the time. Both approaches can be found in Günther (1988) and Hart & Hicks (1998). These and other works – such as Wiebenson (1982), Schütte (1984) – have in the meantime created an impressive map, which shows the chronological course and geographical distribution of architectural thinking in Europe from around 1400 onwards. 145 In addition, there are studies that focus not so much on the big picture, but on a few separate historical treatises. Van Eck (1998), for example, has shown that in the case of Alberti’s De Re Architectura, ‘summarizing’ chapters makes little sense. The individual chapters of his treatise do not always contain similar insights that are limited to one theme. Many themes are spread over several chapters because Alberti structures his architectural knowledge on the basis of a rhetorical model.146 Such conventions not only determine the way in which architectural knowledge is presented, they also form a system that determines what architectural knowledge itself is. Knowing that there are different architectural knowledge systems in history, one can also ask the question of how this knowledge changes. The question is then which transformation is taking place in treatises from the early modern era and how the emergence of the modern architectural concept can be understood 24 from this, a perspective that Tzonis (1984) presents. He points to changes that are more comprehensive, such as the changed handling of goods (scarcity becomes production) and other human relationships (kinship becomes accumulation of power), changes that also affect the status of the design (rational becomes rationalistic). Bilodeau (1997) also examines this transformation, but he concentrates on an internal architectural issue. On the basis of a changed handling of precedents (in the use of columns), he reveals a turn in French architectural thought (between 1650 and 1793). In this chapter I will analyze Simon Stevin’s architectural knowledge system. I will rely upon the existing architectural history literature. Some of this literature I have already mentioned; other authors I will cite where appropriate. This applies especially to literature on early modern architectural practices to which I have been able to pay little or no attention in my research. The sequence in which I will analyze Stevin’s work and his conception of the house is a reversal of the usual trajectory. This was due to two reasons. First of all, because of the now fixed image of Simon Stevin as an engineer, certain themes have come to the fore too much, while other themes, which he sometimes discusses at least as comprehensively, have moved to the background or even disappeared. I discussed Stevin’s current mythical image in the Chapter 1, section 1.1.1. The second reason is related to the modern design concept of the house as a building with a certain social program. In this modern view, a number of layers of architecture are automatically interconnected in a way that does not apply to the early modern era. An analysis of the early modern conception of design therefore implies the need to locate a number of connections that were only established for the first time in the twentieth-century design process. Because of both views, which often steer the analysis unnoticed, I decided to go the reverse way and start with the details. In this way, point by point and layer by layer a more complete image can arise. Then, in the second instance, the question of the coherence among all these details in Stevin’s writings will be addressed. Where it is relevant, I will also point out the issues where Stevin’s work corresponds to or diverges from the tradition of architectural thought. In his writings, Stevin refers several times to the architectural thinking of Vitruvius, Alberti, Serlio and Palladio. My goal is to ultimately be able to establish Stevin’s conceptualization of ‘the house’ through his conception of ‘architecture’. For the first part of this chapter, this will imply the following. I will successively break down the knowledge, which is always presented stacked or intertwined in Stevin’s writings, into distinct layers. Each of the four sections thus constitutes a separate tour through Stevin's writing. In this way, the coherence for each layer of knowledge can be shown. In the first section (2.1.1.) all attention is focused on Stevin’s handling of the material substances and the solidity of the house. Section 2.1.2. focuses on his inventions aimed at purifying chambers in the 25 house of all kinds of geomorphological and climatological inconveniences. The third section (2.1.3.) classifies types of stuff and types of human beings according to the discomfort they cause (2.1.3.). I will conclude the first part of this Chapter with a section in which I describe Stevin's house drawing as a visualization of his conceptions of line, number, and mathematics (2.1.4.). In the second part I will move on to a number of issues that not only have dominated the interpretation of Stevin’s architectural thought up till now, but since Wittkower’s Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism also more generally determine architectural history (and design). In section 2.2.1. I will discuss Stevin’s conception of symmetry and beauty, concepts that are considered to be at the heart of Renaissance architectural thought. I return to the status of his house drawing in section 2.2.2, now as a result of the substantive changes that have taken place in the tradition of architectural treatises. In the early modern era, the house becomes a new design object in architectural thinking and the drawing becomes an instrument of knowledge. And finally, in section 2.2.3. I will deal with Stevin’s conception of ‘bouwkunst’ (the art of architecture). Stevin’s utterances and his drawings, already discussed in the preceding sections, appear to be based on a scientific approach that harks back to earlier conceptions. 26 2.1.1. Matter and Firmness Simon Stevin’s architecture has many components that hardly play a role in modern architectural theory anymore. His broad exposition of building materials, his emphasis on strength, his concern for sufficient light, and his discussion of ‘use’ seem archaic. In current architectural theory it is not common to pay much attention to these subjects. Not that they would be without importance, on the contrary, but they no longer provoke discussions. Partly because knowledge of building materials, for example, is part of the basic knowledge and has a neutral handbook-like status. And partly because the choice of materials is now standardized, because the architect chooses from pre-selected industrial products with standard properties. If the architectural theory of the twentieth century already mentions constructive matters, this is often in an ideological sense. In the Nieuwe Zakelijkheid (New Objectivity, 1900-1932), for example, the use of new materials such as reinforced concrete, glass and steel became symbolic for designing for the new man. Through light and air, sun and space, the architect gave man his liberation.147 In 1978 Manfredo Tafuri observed that the avant-garde project had been completed: modernist thinking had been incorporated into government planning and mass housing and had therefore become superfluous. He called the ‘drama’ of architecture ‘its forced return to pure architecture’, to ‘form without utopia’.148 Tafuri does not talk about matter anymore. After this brief intermezzo, for example with Peter Eisenman, talking about matter has been put back on the agenda. ‘Matter’, like ‘house’ and ‘the user’, has become part of the complicated language game of postmodern architectural theory. ‘If architecture is primarily present – materiality, bricks and mortar – then the otherness or subordination is the trace, as the presence of an absence’, according to Eisenman in 1989. 149 The frequent use of the Vitruvian triad firmitas (firmness), utilitas (efficiency) and venustas (beauty) in the twentieth century should also be understood in this ideological sphere. The terms are used as an argument to support both the respectable tradition of contemporary architectural thinking and to prove its scientific character.150 Other aspects, on the other hand, such as technical innovations or use, became so important during the twentieth century that they were set apart. Research on the use of buildings is grouped under specialisms and auxiliary sciences and its results are summarized in statistics, indicators and forecasts. It is mainly the social sciences that have taken hold of people and their desires. The knowledge produced there is subservient to architectural thinking but is not intended to contribute to the reflection on architecture and design practice. Against this background, it should come as no surprise to us that matters such as construction and building materials are also dutifully summarized in the modern historiography of architectural theory. They are treated as outdated, 27 superfluous and not very rational insights, which one can safely skip. Somewhat embarrassed, one steps over such trivialities in architectural treatises to focus instead on aesthetic components, such as beauty and proportion, ornament and column. The ‘aesthetic socialism’ that was so characteristic of modernist architecture in the Netherlands, in which a link was made between harmony in color and form and ‘world harmony’, has long since set the tone. This also applies to the postmodern celebration of the sublime in architecture. 151 Implicitly, these attitudes permeate architectural historical research, which makes it difficult for a contemporary reader to understand the rationale of a (classical and early modern) architectural thinking that consists to a large extent of discussing types of sand and stone, types of trees and wood, types of water and winds, types of vermin and people, their nature and their properties.152 Nevertheless, Stevin discusses firmitas and utilitas at length. He shares this interest not only with Vitruvius, who was the first to write about it, but also with the early modern architectural tracts by Leon Battista Alberti and Andrea Palladio.153 Although Salomon de Bray, Philips Vingboons and Willem Goeree pay less attention to this, the materiality and solidity are nevertheless unmistakably present in their views. The question arises as to how this attention should be understood. The tenacity with which authors have continued to write about the substances and their properties for centuries makes it clear that it is not about leaf filling. Nor does it appear to be a simple representation of the practice of building. In fact, Stevin’s statements (as well as those of Alberti, Palladio and Vitruvius) about materiality and firmness stem mainly from the Aristotelian philosophy of Nature.154 This way of thinking ‘according to Aristotle’,155 which formed the basis of the curriculum until the seventeenth century and was reconfirmed in the debates following Descartes’ work,156 is also reflected in Stevin’s statements on human use and beauty. She even brings an unexpected coherence to many seemingly heterogeneous statements. I will mention a few points of natural philosophy that play a role in Stevin’s early modern discourse.157 For Stevin, Nature is the progenitor of all things and substances, and in that materiality she reveals her efficacy. 158 In writings such as Vant Stofroersel des Eertcloots and De Hemelloop (both from the period 1605-1608), he formulates the presumption that there are great movements between heaven and earth that evade the power of man: ‘wesende groote roersels die niet deur menschen macht en geschien (...) waer af de ghemeene reghelen dieder uytgetrocken worden verder dan totten Huysbou strecken’ [they are great movements that are not done by human power (...). which means that the general rules that can be concluded from them go beyond architecture.].159 Some substances possess miraculous properties, but that is mainly because their natural causes are still unknown. Stevin’s motto ‘Wonder and is gheen wonder’ [Miracle and is not a Miracle] indicates this distinction: there is a fundamental principle that works (and is therefore not a 28 miracle), but that has not yet been explained (and therefore appears to be a miracle): ‘om de natuerens verborghentheden daer in duergronden ende te bewysen dat wonder gheen wonder en is’ [to fathom the mysteries of Nature and prove that the miracle is not a miracle]. Time and again he emphasizes that there is an explanation, and it is in the causes that Nature has ordained.160 Only chance, a lack of sufficient experience, a blinded mind, the use of unsuitable language, and the loss of the perfect knowledge of earlier times explain, according to him in his Wysentijt, that the knowledge at that time is obscure.161 In his view, the knowledge of the Greek period is only a shadow of the wisdom that man once possessed in a more distant past. The zeal of the Greeks in finding this perfect knowledge is praiseworthy to him – they did what they could – and Stevin does appreciate that. But in fact, they had only borrowed their knowledge from others before them. Much of the Greek knowledge is therefore incomplete, Stevin argues, and offers little certainty. Not only is there a lack of knowledge of the causes, but at the same time there is an abundance of deviations. His regular invitation to the reader of his writings to supplement the knowledge he describes, to provide him with new observations and, if possible, to improve them, is then by no means a courtesy.162 Nature manifests itself in large, impressive and often disastrous phenomena, such as erosion and subsidence. But if one knows the causes of this, then it is possible to turn the bad consequences into benefits, writes Stevin with reference to his Eertclootschrift.163 Anyone who is aware of the causes of silting up or the wearing out of waterways can benefit from this. In his treatise on Waterschuring [water abrasion], Stevin therefore discusses the natural causes of the river bottom. He explains how to use the properties of the water to keep a harbor in good condition. In the outer curves the water scours, in the inner curves the water creates sandbanks. With knowledge of these matters, one can use these properties at the right places. In the field of architecture, one must learn about the natural causes of matter as well. ‘Art is based on experience or study of nature’, says Close in his explanation of some of the fundamental principles on which the philosophy of nature is based.164 Armed with that knowledge of the properties of matter, architecture can act. 165 Or as Close indicates, ‘Art makes use of nature’s material’.166 How much the knowledge of natural phenomena in general touches upon knowledge of architectural nature is shown by the example Stevin gives in his Stedenoirdeningh, where he talks about the reclaiming of drowned lands. This is because the rivers swell at regular intervals, causing polders to flood and houses, villages or towns to wash away. If one knows the causes of the regular increase of river water, one can turn these disadvantages into advantages with the help of a lock system in new polders: the land is fertilized so that the fruit harvest is more abundant, the impoldered land is increasing, while the excess water drains away quickly, and towns or villages are spared.167 Stevin mentions that this does not apply to seawater floods, because the brackish water on the soil and therefore 29 on the crops has a harmful effect. 168 In addition, he says, when releasing excess water, one must take into account the seasons in which certain crops grow, otherwise they would still rot. He proposes to flood the polders only once every two years, so that one year winter fruits can grow, and the other year summer fruits. Noch staet te bemercken dat dese jaerlicksche verhooging niet gheschien en mach met zout zeevvater, om dattet hinderlick is tottet gevvas. Angaende een svvaricheydt die hier mocht voorghevvent vvorden; Dattet aprilis vvater niet commen mach op vvintercooren ‘t vvelckmen hier in September saeyt, noch op vvintergarst, raepsaet, en meer ander die in April in d’eerde onder vvater soude ligghen en bederven. Hier op vvort geantvvoort, datmen om daer teghen voorsien, alleenelick, te tvvee jaren eens, het vvater inde polder soude moeten laten, sayende het een jaer vvintervruchten, ‘t ander jaer somer vruchten, sulcx dat elcke mesting soude dienen voor twe jaer.169 [It should also be noted that the annual increase should not be done with salty sea water, because it is a nuisance for the crop. As for the difficulty suggested here, that the water in April does not end up on winter wheat that one sows in September, nor on winter barley, rapeseed, and other crops that would end up in the water under the ground in April and rot. The answer to this is, that to avoid this, one should only allow water into the polder every two years, sow winter fruits one year, summer fruits the next, so that each fertilization covers for two years]. It is for this reason that, according to Stevin, knowledge of the building materials, of the subsoil and of the climate belongs to the art of architecture. ‘Art has its beginnings in nature’, is how Close summarizes the natural philosophical worldview.170 Only through that knowledge is it possible to build solidly and to protect mankind against all kinds of evil influences of Nature. The structure must be constructed in such a way that it is capable of shutting out all weather conditions.171 This formula is well known and appears in almost every architectural treatise from before modern times. For Stevin, too, this leads to the description of the properties of building materials. Many of the substances Stevin mentions are common in the building practice at the time. In his Wysentijt he emphasizes that he consulted artisans for knowledge about building materials.172 In a few cases he derives knowledge about it from architectural practices of others, such as his reference to the roof tiles that Alberti discusses. For the general rules of building, Stevin refers to the ‘Huysbou’, a work that was never published but which has since been reconstructed by Van den Heuvel. 173 Stevin distinguishes two types of firmness. Firstly, the durability of the material itself. If the right building material is used, there is no need to constantly renew the structure, maintenance is easy and decay can be prevented. 174 Secondly, Stevin speaks of the ‘vasticheydt’ [fixity] or ‘sterck sijn’ [stand strong] of a 30 structure. It’s a matter of the physical forces.175 A house should first and foremost be a strong, physically closed construction of solid side walls, façades, attics, cellars and a roof of durable material. 176 Vitruvius described building materials as substances produced by Nature that are especially suitable ‘for the completion of houses’. He relies on the natural philosophical knowledge of that moment. In no other way can Nature be explained truthfully by the theorems of physicists, unless the causes inherent in things themselves, how they are and why they are so, are uncovered by accurate reasoning.177 Vitruvius refers to the four primal substances distinguished by the natural philosophers – water, fire, air and earth. 178 Not only the inanimate substances are composed of this, but also the living beings, such as trees and animals.179 In this respect people do not deviate from other living beings and inanimate things from Nature. They too consist of their own mixture of these four elements. And just like the other living beings, human beings need these elements to stay alive, grow, reproduce, breathe, drink, eat and warm themselves. Welnu, als de lichaamsdelen niet door vruchten van de aarde worden gevoed, zullen ze wegkwijnen en zal hun vermenging met het aardse element verloren gaan. Als levende wezens de werkende kracht van het water moeten missen, raken ze hun bloed en de sappen van het vochtige element kwijt en drogen ze helemaal uit. De goddelijke geest heeft datgene wat voor de mensen van echt levensbelang is dus niet moeilijk bereikbaar of kostbaar gemaakt, zoals parels, goud, zilver en dergelijke, die het lichaam of de natuur helemaal niet nodig heeft. De eerste levensbehoeften voor een sterveling heeft hij binnen handbereik over de hele wereld uitgestort. Als een van deze elementen in een lichaam bijvoorbeeld een tekort aan adem dreigt, dan vult de lucht, die bestemt is om het evenwicht te herstellen, dit aan. Als hulpmiddel voor warmte hebben we de hitte van de zon gekregen en de uitvinding van het vuur maakt het bestaan nog zekerder. Zo levert ook de opbrengst van het land eten in overvloed, veel meer dan we verlangen, en voedt en onderhoudt al wat leeft, omdat er altijd iets eetbaars is. Water tenslotte, niet alleen om te drinken maar ook voor een eindeloze reeks praktische behoeften, bewijst ons vele kostbare diensten, terwijl het niets kost.180 [Well, if the body parts are not nourished by fruits of the earth, they will languish and their mixture with the earthly element will be lost. When living creatures lack the working power of water, they lose their blood and the juices of the moist element and dry out completely. So the divine spirit has not made that which is of real vital importance to people difficult to reach or expensive, such as pearls, gold, silver and the like, which the body or nature does not need at all. The basic necessities of life for a mortal he has poured out across the world. If, for example, one of these elements in a body threatens a shortage of breath, then the air, which is intended to restore balance, fills it up. We got the heat from the sun as an aid for warmth, and the invention of fire makes our existence even more certain. Thus, the yield of the land provides food in abundance, much more than we desire, and nourishes and 31 maintains everything that lives, because there is always something edible. Finally, water not only for drinking but also for an endless range of practical needs, proves to us many valuable services, while costing nothing]. Although Stevin critically examines this conception of the four primal elements in his Wysentijt, his critique does not relate to the natural philosophical idea underlying it. He accepts that thought but doesn’t consider her accurate enough. Referring to a recent revival of the miraculous alchemy181 or ‘stofscheiding’ [separation of substances] (and referring to the working method of the alleged Hermes Trismegistus, who thoroughly explored the essence of substances and from whom the hermetic tradition took its name), he points out that there are more elements that are responsible for the various substances. However, Stevin regards the fact that alchemy is only associated with finding gold as a sign of abuse. It is not the art of alchemy that he finds despicable, but the abuse of it. 182 Stevin’s conception of the nature of the substances is not only expressed in his interest in alchemy in the Wysentijt. It also appears in several places in his architectural treatise where he makes observations concerning the natural condition of the soil and the changes it undergoes as a result of the weather. In those places Stevin competes with writers such as Vitruvius, Pliny and Palladio. It is not without pride that he praises a Dutch invention that is superior to the insights of the aforementioned authors about drilling and soil conditions. 183 In the two pages that follow, he gives a detailed account of the composition of the soil, as revealed by a drilling for water in Amsterdam on June 16, 1605, on the grounds of the Oudemanhuis [Old man’s house]. This is a 232-foot-deep borehole in a soil that is peaty and muddy. Much to his surprise, the soil appears to consist of a succession of different earth layers. In a table (bp.2.1.1) he records eighteen types of soil, together with the thickness of the layer in feet and the day and depth at which the layer was tapped. 184 For Stevin, this proves once again that the soil is a force not to be underestimated. Especially in Holland with its swampy and marshy conditions, one must take this into account when building on it.185 The rising damp often proves to be disastrous for the floors of the chambers on the ground floor. Moisture also often affects goods stored in the cellar. 186 Humidity even has the ability to cause disease in the inhabitants. 187 Apart from the soil, Stevin is interested in weather phenomena. Rain and storms cause a lot of problems. They often make one have to leave the bed at night because of leaking and blown away roofs.188 In addition, he distinguishes snow and drifting snow, hail, frost and hot sunshine as phenomena that each have their own peculiarity. 189 For example, drifting snow – other than snow or rain – is able to blow in between the tiles of the roof and make the house damp. Frost causes roof tiles to crack and if this happens in a violent storm, the tiles are blown off the roof in large quantities, which is not 32 without danger for passers-by.190 Incoming rain not only makes household goods perish, but even the woodwork from which the house is constructed deteriorate and fall into disrepair. The sun, finally, is the cause of heat and has a harmful effect on certain materials. For example, the sun lets slats split and lead roofing warp. Vvant balcken, solderingen, houtvverck, ja somvvijlen boecken, en papieren van groot belanck, lyvvaet, cleeren, bedden en ander huysraet, verrotten en bederven: Oock ist verdrietich by duyster nachten, vanden regen binnenshuys overvallen te vvorden, en ‘t bedde te moeten ruymen, gelijck het menigen gebeurt.191 [For beams, attics, woodwork, sometimes books, and papers of great importance, linens, clothes, beds, and other household goods, rot and decay: Also, it is sad to be overwhelmed by the rain indoors on dark nights, and to have to leave the bed, as it happens to many]. Stevin spends (in the context of the chimney) no less than eight pages on the treatment of all kinds of winds, referring to others like Alberti, who already wrote about this matter.192 And indeed, the fickle behavior of the wind troubled Vitruvius and Alberti as well. ‘Wind’, Vitruvius wrote, ‘is a flowing wave of air, with an excess of movements without a fixed pattern. It occurs when heat hits moisture and the pressure of expansion squeezes out a mighty wind current’.193 Alberti, in turn, speaks of types of winds which he calls ‘Southern’ and ‘Northern winds’ and which have definite advantages and disadvantages, which must be taken into account, especially when choosing the right location for a town. Stevin differs from Vitruvius and Alberti in that he does not dress up his argument with mythological stories or explain it with incidents in and around the house. But when it comes to his research into the working causes of winds, Stevin hardly distinguishes himself from Vitruvius who writes: ‘For as far as hidden laws of the universe are concerned, we can uncover the truth of the divine system with skillful instruments’. Vitruvius’ experiments with ‘Aeolus figures’ therefore show similarities with Stevin’s observations of smoking chimneys between tall houses.194 The figures ‘are filled with water and placed near the fire. Before they heat up there is no trace of steam, but as soon as they start cooking, they produce a strong steam on the fire. In this way we can gain knowledge from a simple, very brief experiment and form an opinion about the transcendental rules of the universe and the winds’.195 Experimenting with the visible smoke of the chimney – by opening windows and doors, by shedding water around the fireplace, by poking into the chimney shaft with a stick, by observing what smoke does in a straight and curved chimney pipe, and how smoke moves between high roofs – Stevin finally discovers that both the direction of the invisible winds and the force can vary greatly. 196 Furthermore, according to him, a distinction should be made between harmful and 33 less harmful (horizontal) winds.197 These observations lead him to the conviction that winds, by their very nature, have an uncertain motility (turbulence) that in certain respects make them look like water. 198 But he also tries to explain other natural phenomena in the house by comparing them with other phenomena whose blowing of air in a pipe. He compares the stench in the ‘heymelick’ [water closet, privy] with the stench on the battlefield. Investigating natural substances by describing the analogy with other natural phenomena is a method that can also be found in Vitruvius, Alberti and Palladio. In this sense, Stevin’s proefondervindelijke [experimental] method is based on a natural philosophical line of thought and should not simply be regarded as a sign of new engineering rationalism. Vanpaemel pointed out earlier that this is a matter of interpretation: ‘Is an experiment a natural phenomenon, or is it an imitation of nature, just as a two-dimensional painting or a trompe-l'oeil imitate nature?’.199 Natural substances have capabilities that a master builder must know before he can make use of them for construction work. Nature’s pursuit of survival is reflected in the growth of living and inanimate substances. This is a shared architectural concept up to the modern age. But not all the consequences can be used for the benefit. Alberti writes, for example, that wood is less firm in the spring because it gets pregnant. Like pregnant women, pregnant trees also pass on their good qualities to the fruits during this period.200 Young wood is therefore less usable as building material. In another case, building can take advantage of the natural ability to multiply. In a similar way, Stevin advocates the use of a certain type of hard stone, ‘perpensteen’ [tuff], as a foundation for heavy structures, arguing that this type of stone has the property of growing firmly together when stacked, within ten years or so.201 The issue of building materials is addressed in several places in Stevin’s writings. Sometimes, as in the tenth chapter, the comments are placed more together. He lists the types of roofing. Straw, reeds, planks, tiles, brick roofing tiles, slate, lead, copper and stone all pass in review.202 Of a single fabric he points to a property that can be advantageous for the house. For example, straw and reeds provide warmth in winter and shelter from the heat in summer. But his emphasis is on the disadvantages of certain materials. Straw and reed are not only ugly, but they are also substances that naturally rot easily. In addition, they pose a fire hazard, attract dirt from dust and cobwebs, while mice and rats tend to nest in them. With all the consequences this has for the rainwater that ends up in the gutter from such a roof: it is dirty and unusable. He also lists disadvantages of the other building materials. Slate requires continuous maintenance of the slater. The use of lead is disadvantageous for several reasons. In case of extreme heat from the sun, it can split and in case of fire, it even melts, and the dripping lead is a great danger for those who want to extinguish the fire. Moreover, in times of war, 34 it is easily stolen by soldiers who turn it into money. This is even more true for the more precious copper.203 In several places in his writings, Stevin speaks about the question of how the different types of stone should be used. He emphasizes that the building materials should be site-specific; nevertheless, one sometimes has to use substances with better properties.204 Stevin distinguishes two types of hard stone. First of all, there’s the natural stone. It can be smooth and shiny, polished or hewn.205 As such it is suitable material for both the façade and as for the crosswindow frame.206 In order to make the façade weatherproof, it is also necessary to refrain from protruding parts outside the façade. Forward leaping parts in particular have the property of being affected by storms and frost, rain and sunshine. When these parts are open, all kinds of moss and dirt collect in them.207 And his reflections also concern the costs to be incurred: ... soo vvil de reden datmen daer me het cierlickee veroirden, datter voor can gemaeckt vvorden, maer dat en schynt niet vvel nagecommen, alsmen het buytenste (ondervvorpen zijnde ‘t voorschreven gevvelt van vvint, vorst, regen en Sonneschyn) maeckt van costelick gesneen vverck, en ‘t binnenste, gelijck veel gebeurt, slecht; vvanttet soo veel is, al oft ymant sijn leersen , gemaeckt vvesende om te dragen in slijck en vuylicheyt, van buyten met costelick bordeursel versierde.208 [... if one wishes to make the structure ornate, it is reasonable to take these properties into account, but this does not seem to be well observed, since one makes the outside (which is subject to the aforementioned violence of wind, frost, rain and Sunshine) of costly cut material, and the inside of poor fabric, as is much done; it is as if one's boots, which are made to be worn in sludge and filth, were decorated on the outside with costly embroidery]. According to Stevin, protruding stone elements are only permitted if they prevent damage to the façade and windows. This applies, for example, to the water frames mentioned by Vitruvius and others as part of the cornice at the top of the façade.209 These parts also serve to protect certain decorations and ornaments in the façade.210 Particularly in wooden façades, such protrusions of transverse ribs can prevent rain from hitting the façade.211 A second category of hard stone is the baked clinker or brick.212 Unlike several soft stone types, brick cannot be worked by chopping, but must be sharpened.213 This brick is very suitable as protection against moisture and fire.214 However, the brick must be made of good and kneaded clay.215 According to physician Van Beverwijck, the brick, purified by the fire, is the healthiest type of brick. 216 The bigger the brick – a man still has to be able to carry it – the more solid the structure becomes.217 Soft Stone – Stevin talks about ‘vveyckcksteen’, ‘sacht backsteen’ and ‘weyckbacksteen’ – is mainly used to purify water because of its permeability. 218 However, the permeability is disadvantageous when the soft stone is used in the sewerage system. 219 The soft 35 stone gets soaked, which causes a smell in the house and discolors the façade.220 Sewage pipes should therefore either be made of hard stone, or the soft stone should be lined with lead on the inside. 221 Stevin considers the Dutch ‘dakpannen’ [pantiles] in use to be of inferior quality compared to the Italian ‘tegels’ [tiles] Alberti writes about in De Re Aedificatoria. Dutch pantiles are very unsuitable because they cause leakage in all kinds of ways. A first drawback is that they are often spongy and have crevices. Moreover, as most of the 12-inch long pantiles are uncovered due to the stacking, and they are covered with mortar on the overlap between the pantiles, the moisture leaks directly to the inside. 222 Secondly, although pantiled roofs do not leak as much when they are not covered with mortar, the disadvantage of this is that drifting snow easily blows in and the attics become very cold as a result.223 Roofs covered with ‘tiles’ do not have these disadvantages, even if they are made of permeable material.224 The cause of this is the ‘roof tile-like’ stacking of the tiles through which the water drips from one tile to another. In addition, if the tiles are covered with mortar in the right places and if they are plastered inside, it is virtually impossible for the water to get inside. 225 Stevin thinks the best roofs are the tile roofs described by Alberti. They consist of tiles, made of good hard fired clay. As a result, they do not let water through, nor do they suffer from temperature changes, such as in freezing and thawing weather. Baked in a curved shape, they can also be stacked on a sturdy slatted frame. 226 As a rule, according to Stevin, it is always wiser to live under a good roof according to foreign (Stevin says ‘Greek’) building methods than under a bad one according to one’s own custom.227 In the same vein, he discusses the pros and cons of the material used for windows. Many of these comments are crisscrossed through the text (a part was added by his son Hendrick at the end of the text, because he said he had some empty pages left). Because a window has to let in light and because one has to be able to look outside from a chamber, Stevin considers polished crystalline glass plates to be the most suitable. 228 The light this material gives is bright. 229 This is because unpainted and polished glass has properties that make it unnecessary to sit in a cold, wet chamber during the day in rainy or freezing weather. With this glass one sees things as if there was no glass in it. With this example, Stevin reminds us of the previously customary way of allowing light into the house, namely by opening the window. So, light in the house was at the expense of warmth. Different from the small Mediterranean window that for Alberti is still an open hole in the wall, through which not only light but also air enters. 230 The alternative was that it was warm inside, but dark and smoky. Other types of glass, such as painted stained glass, consider Stevin less appropriate due to the lower amount of light they allow through. 231 Stevin speaks of ‘eenige glasen’ [few glasses] and ‘uytgevallen sticken’ [lost pieces] of a window. With the ‘kijkvenster’ [bay window], this way of glazing windows is even clearer. 232 On the drawing of 36 the façade ‘ruiten’ [windows panes] have been used. During the night, when the windows need to be properly covered, iron or even copper shutters are best suited, according to Stevin with reference to Serlio. 233 Wooden shutters are less suitable because they have the disadvantage that they can be drilled noiselessly at night. Then a thief can simply stick an arm in, unlock the bolts and penetrate.234 It is clear from the above that, according to Stevin, the properties of various substances must be properly known. Not only does the house stand or fall with the use of the right building materials, also indoors the amount of moisture and cold, draught and smoke, light and heat is the result of the insight one has into the pros and cons of building materials. The knowledge one needs to have extends even further. One should be aware of the harmful effects that substances can have on each other. Stevin points out, for example, that lime eats wood, that new mortar rots the ends of wooden beams due to its sharp, caustic and penetrating humidity, and that wood can split when exposed to solar heat, resulting in ‘the rushing departure of humidity’.235 On the basis of this kind of knowledge, Stevin can explain why houses become unstable or sag. In order to prevent parts of the house from undermining each other in the long run, one must not only know the causes, but also remove them, is his motto. If you want to attach new walls to old ones, you need to know that the new walls will always become lower because of the shrinking properties of the mortar. 236 If you want to place glasses in windows and roofs in façades, you have to keep a thumb depth because the mortar will smear better, does not split, is denser and does not fall off. The knowledge of good properties makes it possible to perpetuate them. The properties of wood, for example, can be made durable by covering it with oil or grease and then letting it dry outdoors. Newly chopped wood should be allowed to dry evenly and slowly. Only then does the moisture withdraw from the outside and from the inner part of the wood and splitting is prevented. This can be achieved by keeping the wood out of the sun, or by laying the wood (as was common among the Egyptians) under the sand for a year. 237 Het hout splyt van de sonneschyn, gelyck het kley voort vier, om het haestich uytgaen van de vochticheyt uyt het uyterste; soo wort het uyterste minder ende en kan het binnenste niet vatten. Daerom splyt het. Maer buyten sonneschyn drooget van binnen ende van buyten samen. [The wood splits because of the sunshine, just as the clay splits because of the fire, due to the hasty departure of the moisture from the outside; then the moisture in the outside diminishes and the inside cannot retain it. Therefore, it splits. But laid out of the sun it dries at the same time from the inside and from the outside]. 37 Those who know the natural causes try to prevent certain substances from mixing. That’s why Stevin turns against the Dutch custom of placing wooden window frames in stone walls. Because of the rotting, shrinkage and warping of the wood, these two different materials will eventually no longer fit. 238 As a result, the chambers become windy, cold and humid. 239 It is also better to use copper hinges when attaching the shutters to stone window frames. This prevents iron hinges, which have the defect that they rust over time, from eventually disrupting the stone frames.240 And finally, Stevin points out some inconveniences in making cellars moisture-free. For example, brick in combination with tras (a masonry mortar used since the fifteenth century to which finely ground tuff has been added, also known as ‘sement’ [cement]) has the disadvantage that it can split, causing water to seep through. 241 To make a tube of tras to catch this, he thinks it's completely ragged. It is better to treat the wall as one does with ship walls, namely make the part of the wall that lies under water from wood and then rub it with moss and tar. In addition to the many harmful properties that substances naturally possess, Stevin also lists good characteristics and gives some appropriate substance mixtures. Plaster (consisting of clay, calf hair, hay and ‘something’ the plasterer didn’t want to mention) can be used to seal permeable and flammable substances.242 When the tras shows cracks, so that it is no longer water resistant, Stevin advises to make a porridge of different substances.243 Tras can be used in the ‘zuiverbak’ [water tank] to purify the rainwater.244 A third sealant is mortar. Stevin points out that in order to get mortar of the right composition, one should not use too much water and not stir too often. His advice is to make the mortar in time (one month in advance) and no more than is needed. To make the mixture greasy, the lime, sand and water must be stirred once a day so that the moisture is expelled.245 ‘Doornikse kalk’ [Tournai lime] has the best properties because it becomes very adhesive after hardening. Then comes ‘Maaskalk’ made of blue and white bluestone. ‘Leidse kalk’ [lime from Leiden] is made from shells and is poorly usable because the salt in it makes the walls damp.246 Finally, one should also have knowledge of the pace at which the various materials gain their strength. Particularly in the case of large buildings, the next layer should only be applied when mold has formed: the sign that the underlying layers are dry. If one does not take into account the speed at which substances obtain their solidity, the whole construction can collapse.247 When applying tras, for example, it is good to take into account a difference in temperature: the petrifaction can vary from two to six weeks depending on the degree of humidity of the specific mixture and the mobility of the water around it. 248 Nevertheless, the avoidance of inappropriate materials does not yet guarantee a solid construction. After all, the structure of the house must be such that it can 38 carry a lot of weight and is fire resistant. 249 Stevin here touches on the physical forces that act on the structure as a whole. A good connection between the parts must be ensured.250 In stone houses, the rule is that the walls at the bottom must be the thickest and heaviest. In addition, one should refrain from heavy protrusions at the top, as these cause great imbalance in the whole. 251 Stevin rejects the much-heard criticism in Holland of too heavy tiled roofs. He even sees an advantage in it because the weight of a roof paved with tiles makes it more durable. It is in fact less steep than a roof consisting of pantiles and it is more resistant to storms. He also pays some attention to the attachment of the roof to the house – precisely because of the Dutch practice. He rejects the parapet, developed to get an extra floor on the house, because of the instability. In this case, the roof does not rest on the wall plate, but on the slightly raised side walls, as a result of which it will exert horizontal forces. The result is that the exterior walls fold outward, the roof structure becomes unstable, and the force concentrates on the wooden pegs, which can cause the parapet to break down.252 On the other hand, a roof that grips directly onto the ceiling and the wall plate increases the strength of the building as a whole. This is due to the unshakeable triangular connection of which the attic forms the basis. 253 If you want more space under the roof, it is better to raise the parapet by 2 to 3 feet up to the attic. Because the roof rests on the attic according to the rules, you not only get an extra floor, but also the necessary strength.254 The solidity of the building is reflected in all sorts of details of the house that Stevin discusses. ‘Loven’ [galleries] at the front of the house contribute to an unshakeable structure (bp.2.2.1). 255 The solidity of the house as a whole, rests on load-bearing walls in combination with horizontal wooden beams and a wooden roof.256 Both side façades, as well as the front and back façade are made of stone. In one of his notes, collected by Beeckman, Stevin writes about ‘heipalen’ [driven piles] and the solid underground made by sand that lies under water. 257 Internally, the wall is also a supporting element. The lines demarcating the chambers on the house plan are walls stretching from the floor in the cellars to the roof. These basement floors should not be lower than the highest groundwater level in view of the moisture infestation and the associated endangered stability of the foundation.258 When the groundwater gets very high, the street has to be raised (by 4 feet). If the highest groundwater reaches 1 foot below the street, it only needs to be raised 3 feet, and so on. The pavement in front of the house should in all cases be made 1 foot higher and the ceiling of the basement should be 2 feet higher.259 In total the cellar is 7 feet high, which according to Stevin is sufficient to stand upright in this chamber that is also protected from moisture. 260 The sturdy stone construction has another feature that leads to durability. It offers some insurance against fire. On the one hand, an external stone structure with a hard roof prevents any fire from the neighbors from spreading – a real 39 danger given the many city fires. On the other hand, the risk of fire is reduced by making all fireplaces in the house – the chimneys – not from wood but from stone.261 This is also done by thickly plastering a wooden roof on the inside or providing it with baked tiles that are naturally fire resistant. Another means of repelling the risk of fire is to make the door and window frames not of wood, but of stone and to provide all the stairs, portals, small chambers, cupboards and peat bins with a stone arch. Stevin thinks it is better to cover the walls with carpets than with wainscoting. After all, the latter attracts vermin and flammable dirt. Although household goods (such as tables and chairs, cupboards and benches) are often made of wood and are therefore highly flammable, a house whose structure is non-combustible will not easily go up in flames. 262 In Stevin’s view, the right choice of fabrics will help to maintain the shape of the house for as long as possible. In short, good knowledge of the building material reduces the risk of fire.263 So far Stevin has emerged as someone who is trying to make his way through the forces of Nature. Nature expresses itself in the laws of matter. All substances pursue their own goals that are expressed in their properties. In the midst of this, Stevin is doing his best to achieve his own goal – making a sturdy and durable house using the right substances. This also explains the need to classify substances on the basis of their properties and to determine which are advantageous when building a house. Some properties of substances have a negative effect, but in combination with other substances they can be reversed for the better. Sometimes there are substances whose properties can be used in an appropriate way. In fact, all of this stems from a natural philosophy approach. In his 1585 treatise on logic, Dialectike ofte Bevvysconst. Leerende van alle saecken recht ende constelick Oirdeelen; oock openende den wech tot de alderdiepste verborgenheden der Natueren (1585) [Dialectics or Art of Proving. Teaches to judge of all things correctly and according to the art; and also opens the way to the very deepest mysteries of Nature] Stevin deals with some of its basic principles. He thinks in accordance with Aristotelian concepts such as ‘matter,’ ‘form,’ ‘making cause,’ ‘helping cause,’ ‘cause of purpose,’ ‘work or deed,’ concepts that also appear to structure his architectural thinking and determine his reasoning. In early modern thinking about Nature, as Kristeller once argued, Aristotelian thinking is tested and tried for a variety of reasons, but as a matter of course it remains a conceptual pattern used well into the seventeenth century in the new natural sciences.264 Matter is for Stevin the cause by which something can be made. Without clay no vase, and without stone, wood and iron no large strong house he writes. 265 Secondly, the form is the cause of the meaning of matter. The shape gives the clay a name, for example ‘vase’.266 Similarly, formative parts give their names to parts of the house, such as foundation, walls, roof. 267 The making cause then, is the 40 potter the processor of the change, i.e. the one that causes matter to change into form. This could be a human being (the potter who makes a vase out of the clay).268 But also an immaterial processor, such as drunkenness can be the cause of diseases.269 In case of the house it is a little more complex, according to his explanatory notes, because although the master builder forms the house from the building materials, he is supported in its realization by others. Stevin, for example, calls the carpenter a ‘willing cause’, and at the same time he is a ‘helping cause’ (for the master builder), just as the saw or hammer is a ‘helping cause’ (instrument) for the carpenter.270 And finally, according to the Aristotelian rules, Stevin distinguishes the cause of purpose (he speaks of ‘eyntlicke oirsaecke’). By this he understands the inherent purpose of a thing produced by Nature – like the falling stone seeking its own place in the natural order. According to Stevin, this also applies to man-made things. ‘The knife serves to cut, a clock to distinguish the hours, the arithmetic to count, and the geometry to measure correctly’. And a barrel serves to put beer or herring in and a vase to put flowers in, according to Stevin.271 In his opinion, however, the house can have several purposes: someone builds a house so that people can live in it, so that he may benefit from it, or so that he may take pleasure in it. 272 As a result, we find ourselves in a completely different conceptual universe than that of modern functionality. For us, things can only have a purpose because humans use them. Building materials are there because humans have to dwell. But with Stevin and other early modern or classical authors, the fabric, substance or thing itself has a will, its own possibilities for change and its own purposes. Every kind of stone, every kind of tree and every kind of wind follows its intrinsically given effect.273 They serve a purpose of their own. The person who knows them can use them for a purpose of their own. Stones, trees and winds are there because they want to multiply, mix or take their place in the natural order. And in a way, man has to conform to these properties, advantages and disadvantages, or purposes, before he can use them to realize his own purpose, for example to make a house. The house, but also the human being, stands or falls with the knowledge of the undiminished mutual connection of things. That is why Stevin’s comparison of the house with the body of man, included in his architectural treatise, is not just an out of the blue metaphor or a somewhat loose symbolic equation. On the contrary, both phenomena are similar because they obey Nature and its laws: Het dack is soo voornamelicken deel des geheels, dat gelijck een lichaem sonder hooft, geen mensch en can vvesen, alsoo vergaring van stoffen sonder dack geen huys. Ende gelijckmen gemeenlick segt, alst hooft svveert soo svveeren al de leden, alsoo oock vvanneer het dack ondicht is, de rest verderft:274 41 [The roof is the main part of the whole; just as a body without a head cannot be a human being, a collection of materials without a roof cannot be a house. And as it is said that if the head swears, all the members are sick, so if the roof is leaky, the rest will also be destroyed]. From Stevin’s work, an initial image of the house thus emerges: it consists of a combination of the most suitable substances, the mixture of which guarantees sturdiness and durability. Like Vitruvius and Alberti, Palladio and Serlio, as well as Vingboons and Goeree, Stevin's house is a material structure, subject to the laws of Nature, which extend far beyond what man is capable of. It is in all its materiality a recognition of the forces that work on it and as such a part of Nature. Establishing a sustainable house requires two kinds of skills from the master builder. First of all, he has to fathom Nature in all its material properties. Secondly, he must avoid the detrimental properties when building and use the advantages for his own purpose: namely the erection of a structure that is both solid and durable. This explains why so much attention was paid to soil, weather and building materials up until the early modern period. This classical principle of ‘doelmatigheid’ [efficacy] is therefore very different from the functional efficiency with which we have been so familiar since Modernism. While functional efficiency results from tailoring a form to human use and thus intervenes in the social order, Stevin and others speak of a different principle. In classical thought the form adapts to what matter and the natural order is capable of. According to the early modern authors, man is also included in that natural order. The natural characteristics that human beings have inherited and the actions of the various types of human beings are issues that Stevin elaborates on in his architectural thinking. In the next two sections I will deal with them sequentially. 42 2.1.2 The Finding of the Cleansed Chamber In the preceding paragraph, I portrayed Stevin as someone who adheres to the Aristotelian frame of mind. At least in so far as he tries to fathom the workings of matter and asks himself the question how material properties can be used when building a house. In this second section I will address a related subject, namely the ‘vindingen’ [findings] that he believes the house should be provided with. 275 For Stevin, this is a term (analogous to the rhetorical term ‘inventio’) that refers to finding, retrieving and organizing the parts (arguments) from an existing knowledge reservoir, for the benefit of the delivery (‘voordracht’, hupokrisis, action), the presentation of the resulting solution.276 In this respect, the early modern (and classical) ‘invention’ differs from the modern word ‘inventing’, which in the first place has the connotation of creating a previously non-existent (original, new) phenomenon. In his findings, Stevin pays a lot of attention to incoming sunlight and pure air, for sufficient heat and water. 277 In his house-drawing many stoves, chimneys, cisterns, fountains, water closets and windows are included. Per floor this means two stoves, two chimneys, two cisterns, four fountains, four water closets and last but not least two times fourteen cross-window frames (in front and back façades) and thirty-two doors. It is a wealth of ‘facilities’ that contrasts sharply with the building practice in Holland at the time. Although the wall chimney (sometimes provided with a chimney pipe on the roof) was not unknown in the fifteenth and sixteenth century, it is applied next to the open fire. This fire was placed freely in the chamber, often with no more than an opening in the wall or roof for smoke extraction. The chamber where the fireplace was located (the inner chamber) will therefore certainly not have been smoke-free.278 The other chambers in the house were often cold. The way in which the fire is used as a source of heat and light, but also in food preparation, was much less sophisticated than Stevin suggests. Waste, such as human faeces, was taken out of the house and onto the street in a ‘pispot’ or ‘kakdoos’ [shitbox], disappeared into a cesspool or the canal or (what Stevin doesn’t mention) was traded.279 Or this dirt did not enter the house because people relieved themselves outside. This was even more true when dealing with water. In town, rainwater was collected from polluted roofs or scooped out of the canal to be used for washing or cooking. So, there is every reason to call Stevin’s ‘inventions’ an advance. There is even a temptation to see the house and blocks of houses envisioned by Simon Stevin as the early forerunner of a specifically Dutch functionalism. This movement is typified by a modern author as follows: The starting point was strip construction: grouping housing blocks in such a way that all houses would receive sufficient fresh air and sunlight - so no more enclosed corner houses (...) Often the interior was even considered more important than the exterior. Socially 42 committed as the architects were, they tried to design a good floor plan with spacious chambers in which light and air would have ample access. The result was the creation of the house [doorzonwoning] with plenty of light and fresh air in the bedchambers, in contrast to the unhealthy alcoves. The walls were finished smooth so that they could be easily cleaned. The house was deliberately designed to be housewife friendly. (...) The house is equipped with air heating, a reservoir in the courtyard and control holes in the doors against the waste of light.280 This description refers to the housing that the Nieuwe Bouwen stood for. In this case it concerns a residential building that the Dutch architect J.J.P. Oud built in 1927 in the Weissenhofsiedlung. There is a clear parallel with Stevin’s work. This parallel play a role when historians interpret the houses of the past. One sees economic considerations, social concerns, efficiency and practical solutions that explain why a house looks a certain way. For example, Wijsenbeek-Olthuis recently wrote about the house in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries: There is a clear link between socio-economic developments and the value attached to the residential environment. Home workers usually need a lot of light. That is why they constructed a front house [‘voorhuis’] with natural light and a double door that could be put half-open in summer. The front house was also used to hold businesses and shops. Forced to spend whole days at home, they also had to do something about the smoke nuisance and instead of lighting fires in the chambers (...) they built chimneys in the houses.281 When we recall Kruft’s statement about the emphasis on mass housing and public housing in modernist architectural theory, we realize how easily one ‘recognizes’ fairly recent images in Stevin’s house. Although I don’t want to claim that there can’t be long (typically Dutch) lines between Stevin and modern architecture (think of the fully technological Dutch ‘House of the Future’ in Rosmalen, which has a huge ‘rain collector à la Stevin), it’s important to first establish how Stevin talks about his ‘technical facilities’. Stevin’s observations with regard to light, water, heat and air fit into his natural philosophical research into the properties of building materials and the use of their advantages and disadvantages in the construction of a house. But with his focus on sufficient sunlight, pure water and clean air, he goes a step further. After all, these substances are necessary for the survival of human beings. In fact, if these substances have not been purified, they endanger the health of human beings in the home. Dirty water, cold, draught and humidity, stench, smoke, bad vaporous air and darkness are unhealthy for the body and make the food moldy.282 ‘Dicke, mistige, onsuyvere Lucht’, zo onderstreept ook de medicus Van Beverwijck in zijn Schat der Gesontheyt (1644), ‘verdonckert de geesten, verdickt en verswackt het bloet, benauwt het herte, beswaert het gemoet, en maeckt het gantsche 43 lichaem loom en traegh: overvallende en verswackende de natuerlicke wermte, belet alle haer werckinge, en maeckt den Mensche grof, dom, plomp, en kort van leven’. 283 [Thick, foggy, impure Air,' the physician Van Beverwijck also underlines in his Treasure of Health (1644), 'darkens the spirits, thickens and weakens the blood, makes the heart stuffy, burdens the bosom, and makes the whole body languid and sluggish: overwhelms and weakens the natural heat, impedes all its workings, and makes Man coarse, stupid, plump, and short of life]. Stevin emphasizes that not only the building materials but also the human being consists of a combination of elements that must be in balance with each other. By finding the right ratio of heat and sunlight, purified air, drinking water and fresh food, that balance can be maintained. If this combination gets out of balance, you get sick. Stevin implicitly repeats the natural philosophical view of health in the seventeenth century. 284 The link between balanced health, good building materials, the right environment and food is already made by classical writers and is echoed in early modern physicians such as Johan van Beverwijck and also in the work of Jacob Cats. 285 For example, Van Beverwijck writes about the need for the body to breathe in good air 286 and to regularly take in good food in order to keep the body in balance: Want indiender (...) de Mensche altijt in eenen stant bleef, soo en soude het Voedsel gantsch niet van nooden wesen, ja wy souden van den Ouderdom en de Doot geheel bevrijt zijn. Maer alsoo wy bemercken en gewaer werden, dat door het gestadigh uyt-vloeyen van onse selfstandigheydt, de krachten verminderen, en daer uyt volgende is een slappigheyt van de deelen onses lichaems, soo is ‘t nootsaeckelick, dat uyt de selve soecken te hermaken en te vernieuwen. De Spijse hebben wy dan van nooden, om te herstellen ‘t gene van de harde en droge selfstandigheyt wech genomen is: den Dranck, om het gene dat vochtigh is; gelijck oock dat in ons uyt Vier en Lucht bestaet, door het halen van de adem, en ‘t slaen van de pols ofte slagh-aderen onderhouden wert. Waer uyt blijckt, dat wy sonder die middelen tot geenertijdt en konnen ons leeven behouden. (...) Dese vernieuwinge alsse wel, bequaemlick, en volgens de regulen van de konste der Gesontheyt, die wy hier beschrijven, geschiet, soo is ‘t dat de Menschen in een lanckduerighe en voorspoedige gesontheyt leven, een anders sonder ordre, en in ‘t wilde levende, haestelick, en voor haren tijt komen te sterven.287 [For if [...] Man always remained the same, then Food would not be necessary at all, indeed we would be free from Old Age and Death. But as we find and sense, that by the steady diminution of our independence and powers, from which follows a feebleness of the parts of our body, it is necessary to try to renew that. The Food we need, to restore what has been taken away by the hard and dry selfhood: the Drink, to maintain that which is moist; as also that which consists in us of Fire and Air, by the drawing of breath, and the beating of the pulse or arteries. From which it appears that without these means we can never preserve our lives. (...) This renewal if done well, skillfully, and according to the rules of the art of 44 Health, which we here describe, then it is that Men live in long and prosperous health, an otherwise disorderly, and wild life, come to die hastily, and before its time]. Such views on health also pop up again and again in architectural theory. Serlio, Palladio, Alberti and Vitruvius also focus on striving for balance in the human body. The latter writes: ‘Bodies, like everything else, are composed of the primal elements (which the Greeks call stoicheia), namely heat and moisture, earthly matter and air. In this way, through mixing, according to a ratio determined by Nature, all living beings in the world form their own characteristics, each according to its own species’.288 For this reason, many pages in classical architectural thought were devoted to such topics as finding good soil, finding the right air, finding potable water, finding good light and the like. 289 The fact that Vitruvius advises to assess the soil on the basis of the grazing cattle and their intestines and to find and assess good water by smell and color, but also to closely observe the physique of people who drink from it, while Stevin uses a different method, is less important in this context. 290 What binds them is the search for suitable soil and the removal of harmful substances, stench, waste and smoke for the sake of physical and healthy balance. In this sense, Stevin’s arguments – although he now has other technical means at his disposal – are still in line with those of Vitruvius. Who states: ‘If heat is the dominant element in certain bodies, it kills the others and digests them by its glow. And this is precisely the damage caused by sweltering air from certain wind directions, because it penetrates the open pores, more than the body can tolerate according to its naturally dosed mixing ratio. This is also how it is when moisture has taken hold of the body pores and brought them out of balance. Then the other elements are affected by the liquid and dissolve, as it were, and the good properties that belong to the right composition fall apart. Repeated cooling due to humid winds and air currents can also cause this damage in bodies. In equal measure, the natural component of air or terrestrial matter in the body can, if it increases or decreases too much, weaken the other elements. Earthly matter through excessive eating, air through a oppressive atmosphere’.291 So, it is not surprising that Stevin is negative about the situation in Holland. 292 According to him, darkness, stench and smoke reign in the house. 293 Dirt, filthy water and waste cause a lot of inconvenience.294 Stevin himself tries to find qualities that benefit the house. 295 By bringing in light and purified water and removing waste, odor or smoke, the house becomes a ‘bequaeme’ [suitable] place to live.296 What are Stevin’s findings with regard to light, water and heat? Stevin describes a method of construction that often results in dark chambers in Holland (bp.2.1.2). 45 Deur gebreck van te volgen sulcken regel of noch beter, isser tot veel plaetsen en voornamelick in Hollandt, ongeschicktelick ghebout, alvvaermen menichte van huysen vint met drie camers an malcander, en een open plaets daer achter, even als of A, B, C deser 3 Form drie camers waren, en D een lichtplaets, waer mee B soo duyster is, datmender in ettelicke plaetsen s’middachs met brandende keersen in eet.297 [Out of foolishness to follow this rule or even better ones, in many places and mainly in Holland, there has been disorderly building, where one finds numerous houses with three chambers in succession, with an open place behind them, as in this third form, in which A, B, C represent these three chambers, with D a light-place, making B so dark that in several places one eats there in the afternoon with candles burning]. So, there are three circumstances causing lack of light in chambers.298 Firstly, the houses of ordinary burghers, built on long, narrow plots, often have three chambers in a row. The plots are 20 to 30 feet wide and sometimes more than 200 feet deep due to the fact that the two streets between which such plots are located are often more than 300 feet apart, according to Stevin. Behind these three chambers (in the drawing schematically indicated by A, B and C) is a courtyard (D).299 The middle chamber (B), also known as the alcove, is devoid of light, so that people are forced to have noon meal by candlelight.300 Secondly, making two chambers (A and B) in a row has a similar effect. Small annex chambers are attached to the second chamber (B) (such as a summer kitchen, peat barn, washhouse and the like). The second chamber (B) gets less light and the courtyard behind it (C) becomes smaller, while the passageway connecting the front house with the back house (D) is also quite dark.301 Thirdly, darkness is often caused by sideways incoming light (e.g. through roof windows) being obstructed by neighbors.302 Stevin wants to prevent this kind of inconvenience by establishing a general rule that applies to burgher houses as well as medium-sized and princely ones.303 This rule means that every chamber must have direct, unobstructed and ‘free’ daylight.304 With regard to the type of light, Stevin makes no further distinctions. Vitruvius and Alberti did, probably because the experience with the excessive Mediterranean light is different from the Dutch one. They classify sunlight and the associated heat into types, distinguishing between morning and evening sunshine, autumn and spring sunshine. 305 With Alberti and Serlio, the window is no more than an open hole in the wall. It allows light as well as air into the house.306 In Holland this was also the case for a long time. To keep out rain, wind and cold, shutters were used. The disadvantage was that it immediately became dark and stuffy. The use of stained glass led to a split between the admission of light and of air. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries both aspects were applied together. A high placed light window was combined with an air hole underneath. The latter could be closed with a hatch. In order to keep out the cold 46 and yet let in more light, in Holland until the seventeenth century separate glass windows were placed in the lower open frame. 307 Stevin continues on this. Although he occasionally refers to summer heat (which even melts the lead on the roofs), his main task is twofold: to keep out the cold, rain and wind while allowing light. 308 Due to its sealing and translucent properties, glass is particularly suitable. 309 As far as form is concerned, Stevin argues in favor of the usual ‘kruiskozijn’ [cross-bar frame].310 It consists of two closed windows at the top and two windows at the bottom; the latter can be opened.311 Each chamber must have at least one such ‘kruiskozijn’ of its own. The same goes for stairs, passageways, privies and the like.312 It is not permissible that these small chambers receive their light through one of the larger chambers (bp.2.3).313 There is also a disadvantage to the convenience of direct daylight in the house. Windows have to be covered at night. Shutters (for opening bottom windows) and blinds (for standing top windows) can be used. But shutters and blinds have some unfavorable properties.314 Lateral opening hatches, for example, make a lot of noise during stormy weather, they slam against window frames and together become unstable and break down. They can also take away the light in the chamber, block the view on the street and prevent access to the door. They can even be dangerous to passers-by at night.315 Wooden shutters or blinds placed in front of the upper standing windows make the chambers so dark in the morning that one can only open the blinds by touch. Because of these kinds of inconvenient properties, Stevin advises against the use of blinds.316 His preference is for (until then usual) hatches that open upwards or downwards because they lack all these bad characteristics. An additional advantage is that shops can display their goods on such a hatch.317 (Stevin’s reference suggests a rather oldfashioned use of shutters, examples of which can be found in paintings and prints). Finally, the upper part can serve as a shelter from rain and sunshine for someone sitting in the window.318 A chamber can receive daylight in two ways: from the street or from a courtyard (explicitly called ‘lichtplaets’, place with light, by Stevin). Using both options together is also possible.319 This is the general rule of free daylight which, according to Stevin, must be applied in all houses, regardless of their size, in order to guarantee the convenience of the chambers at this point.320 He draws several houses and blocks of houses, which he considers to be ‘vervoegingen’ [conjugations] of this general rule. The smallest house shape is on a narrow plot and consists of an arrangement of two chambers (A and B, bp.2.1.2). A third chamber (D) can only be added when an open place (C) is inserted. By separating a narrow, covered passageway with glass windows from the light place, two parts can still be connected. Thus, the house is a whole, is without darkness.321 Stevin considers more substantial houses (bp.2.5.2), blocks of houses (bp.2.4.1-4, bp.2.5.1) and also the Princely Court (bp.2.6.1) as further applications of the same 47 rule. On this basis, he arrived at a general architectural principle based on double rows of chambers arranged backwards. Using this ‘two-chamber arrangement’, Stevin is able to make houses of any size, while still meeting the requirement for a house to have free light everywhere. 322 The place of light occupies a prominent place in Stevin’s general rule. As an open place it shows a certain resemblance with the Roman atria (bp.2.7.1). 323 Vitruvius deals with them in the third chapter of the sixth book. Stevin elaborates on Vitruvius’ enumeration.324 He points to the distinction between places of light with or without ‘Looven’ [galleries], a distinction that also applies to his own places of light. The light places without gallery are further divided into open light places (‘Atrium’ or ‘Cavoedium displuviatum’) and closed light places (‘Cavoedium testudinatum’).325 In the light places with ‘Looven’, Stevin mentions the three atrium forms that Vitruvius treats, namely the ‘Cavoedium Tuscanicum’ (where the roof is supported by beams without columns), the ‘Cavoedium tetrastilum’ (with a column in each corner) and finally the ‘Cavoedium Corinthium’ (with more than four columns to support it). 326 Light places with galleries, especially when they are two or three floors high, are less suitable for Stevin. Instead of pouring light, they rob the adjoining chambers of their light and make them dark. That’s why Stevin considers galleries on the street side to be more suitable than galleries on interior façades. Light places consisting of a crossing of galleries (bp.2.7.4) bring their own advantages. In fact, they combine the advantage of the gallery (shelter from rain and sun) with that of the light place (giving free light to the adjoining chambers).327 While the Roman atriums always form the center of a separate house, Stevin also investigates other placements, rejecting some of them. For example, a light place in front of the burgher house on the street side has more ‘onbequamheden’ [disadvantages] than ‘bequaemheden’ [advantages].328 The placement of multiple light places in an ordered block of houses brings more advantages than disadvantages. On the basis of all this, Stevin arrives at a series of blocks in which the courtyards (lichtplaetsen) are arranged in such a way that they can provide all chambers of all houses with free light (bp.2.4.1-4, bp.2.5.1).329 A second principle that keeps popping up in the tradition of architectural thinking is the care for water.330 Here too, according to a reference by Stevin, Vitruvius plays an important role.331 ‘Indeed it is clear,’ Vitruvius argues, ‘that of all things nothing is as indispensable to its use as water. The nature of all living things, if it had to do without grain or fruit or without meat or fish, could keep itself alive by using any of the other foods, regardless of which one. Without water, however, no living being, and no empowering food can be generated, sustained or prepared. Therefore, great accuracy and perseverance is required in the search and selection of resources for a healthy human life’.332 Vitruvius devotes the entire book VIII to the ‘Water supply’.333 Although Alberti and Palladio also discuss the water, their 48 comments are scattered and less numerous. 334 Some parts mentioned by Vitruvius – such as the supply of water to individual houses as part of the urban water supply system and the related problem of levelling – hardly ever return to Stevin.335 Vitruvius treatment was overly tied to the specific Mediterranean and hilly terrain. The aqueducts that Vitruvius discusses formed a system of pipes that brought water from higher up from the hills and mountains to the towns. The height drop generates the flow that must be kept ‘at the right level’. Other aspects, such as the extraction of water, the treatment of rainwater, the difference in quality between water types and the testing of the water, Stevin elaborates in his own way. Stevin, like Van Beverwijck, considers water to be the healthiest drink if it is pure and clear.336 According to Stevin, it is also very comfortable when a house has access to its own water day and night. This prevents one from having to leave one’s house to fetch water from a spring, a well, a river or one’s neighbors.337 Stevin focuses his attention on factors that can continuously supply each individual house with water. Two types of water are eligible for this: water from wells and rainwater. According to Stevin (and in accordance with Vitruvius) knowledge of the soil is a prerequisite for the first. Vitruvius points out that with knowledge of the soil types one is able to find water. In clay and sharp or loose sand is little and in black earth and pebbles more water is present. Especially in firm sandy soil and reddish-brown sand one finds a lot of water. Interestingly, Vitruvius indicates the size of the water collected in each type of soil, its color, composition and taste. He also indicates which fauna is suitable for each type of soil, so that one can recognize the type of soil according to the birds found at a location. Given a location, Vitruvius then gives a number of tests which make it possible to establish the probable presence of water: leave an oil-covered inverted basin of lead or copper (or a lid of unbaked clay, or fleece of sheep's wool; or a burning oil lamp) in a covered hole for 24 hours: if condensation occurs, there is water in the soil.338 Stevin also observes that the quality of the water depends on the soil layer in which it is found. 339 Although, according to Stevin, Vitruvius’ detailed description does not outweigh the knowledge available in Holland by drilling wells, he also tests the purity of the water in the classical ways. 340 First, by observing whether the water easily removes dust stains. Stevin points out that the water from some wells shifts, causing soap to clump and preventing linens from getting clean. Secondly, the speed at which water boils, as an indication of its suitability for cooking. According to physician Van Beverwijck, healthy water can also be recognized because it is clear, does not smell or taste like anything and quickly becomes hot or cold. This water can be obtained by boiling it or allowing it to sink.341 From experience, Stevin knows that well water is often unsuitable for cooking food (e.g. peas).342 Rainwater is therefore of the greatest weight. But as Zantkuijl indicates, collecting rainwater in gutters is not common at that time. Until the seventeenth 49 century, it dripped off the roofs and landed on the property line between the two separate houses. This was the approximately 1-foot wide ‘oyssendrop’ or ‘huisdrop,’ the use and maintenance of which was regulated by town ordinances. Sometimes there were hard stone gutters that discharged the water from the side walls to the back yard and sometimes, in the case of stone side walls, a gutter could be installed so that the rainwater could be collected ‘in stone bins, from which it could be pumped up for use’.343 Benevens Bornputvvater dat tot d’een plaets beter is als tot d’ander, en niet overal can gecregen vvorden, soo bevintmen het regenvvater inde huyshouding seer noodich, als tot lyvvaet te vvasschen, om dat de zeepe in putvvater gemeenelick schift of cabbelt, en niet en suyvert; voort om errevveten en sommige ander dingen me te sieden, en coken dat met putvvater, niet vvel en can gedaen vvorden. [Besides water from wells, which in some places is better than in others, and is not available everywhere, one considers rainwater very necessary in the household, to wash linen, because soap in well water often shifts or bubbles, and does not purify; also, necessary to heat and cook peas and some other things, which cannot be done properly with water from the well]. According to Stevin, well water in the house only comes in handy if it is used in the ‘morshoek’ [spill corner], for example to do the dishes or to sand tin and ironwork.344 In a note found by Beeckman, Stevin states, however, that when wells are made of ‘hardbakken steen’ [hard baked brick] and surrounded by tras, only groundwater enters the well and no muddy water seeps through higher up. The water from such drilled wells is suitable for brewing.345 Because there is a lack of good water sources, fountains and rivers in many places in Holland, rainwater is very important for the house.346 Vitruvius emphasizes the healthier properties of rainwater and its causes, but Stevin believes there are also some drawbacks.347 He indicates various causes for the poor quality of rainwater. When the weather is dry, the mud on the streets turns into dust, which the wind blows onto the roofs and into the gutters. Because of the dust and dirt in the gutters, the rain turns into muddy black water. 348 The gutters also contain other filth, such as dead mice and rats and dirt from cats and birds. All this makes the rainwater unsavory.349 If you collect it in a ‘regenbak’ [cistern], the stagnant water forms a sediment of sludge, which eventually becomes wormy and begins to stink.350 Van Beverwijck also warns against the bad rainwater that ‘van het dack gemeenlick in loode goote valt en sleept niet alleen daer van een deel vuyligheyt, maer treckt oock dickwijls eenige veruysheyt uyt het loot, ons lichaam seer schadelick’.351 [usually falls from the roof into lead gutter and drags from it not only some dirt but also often pulls some grit from the lead, which is very harmful to our body]. 50 Stevin remedies this defect by constructing a cistern from which the sediment can be regularly removed (bp.2.8.1). He constructs a solid, rectangular lead box above ground, which is enclosed in a wooden frame. In the conical part at the bottom, he places a copper tap from which the sediment can be drained regularly (GH in the figure ).352 He also places a tap (N) in the upper part of the lead tank to drain the purified water. By attaching the crane to the tank via a curved lead tube (IL in the figure), it is also possible to prevent any grit or dirt from being carried along.353 Stevin also provides an ‘overloop’ [spillway] when there is temporarily too much rainwater. In the drawing this is referred to as OP. Through the gutter PQ this excess water can drain away. 354 But Stevin won’t leave it at that. For further cleansing of the rainwater, a separate ‘zuiverbak’ [purification tank] is required.355 Stevin, however, only sees an advantage in a purification tank when it is combined with a cistern in which the sludge has already been removed. (In doing so, he criticizes the usual combination in which it is impossible to purify the dirty water from the cistern, even if two, three or more purification tanks are placed next to it). The water from the cistern is led through an underground tras-container filled with sand. Another way is to guide the water through an above-ground purification tank with partitions of trass which also contains sand. 356 Both types of tanks form a system of communicating vessels through which the water flows on its own accord through the interconnected compartments. The sand serves as a filter for all remaining impurities.357 (see bp.2.8.2 with cross sections and front view). 358 By making use of the natural properties of rainwater in this way, it is possible to obtain a supply of healthy and tapable drinking water that is also constantly replenished.359 The importance Stevin attaches to the protection and acquisition of this precious drinking water is demonstrated by a number of measures. After all, someone may forget to turn off the tap. To avoid wasting too much water, the drain tap can be fitted with a small vessel with its own tap. If you are mistaken, you can never lose more than the contents of this small vessel. 360 And in order to prevent unauthorized persons who, for example, ignorantly open the lower tap of the rain vessel (which empties the whole tank), Stevin provides this tap with a lock. Only with a key one has access to the purified water.361 In Stevin’s proposal, water supply is needed at several places. For example, the kitchen has a pump with well water (especially the spill corner) and a pump with purified rainwater. But other chambers will be provided with water too. In the house plan, two ‘regenbakken’ [cisterns] have been drawn on each floor, to which four water taps are connected. Each water tap or ‘fonteij’ belongs to a chamber and each chamber can thus have a supply of purified rainwater (bp.2.3).362 To collect rainwater, Stevin expresses his preference for the ‘trechterdak’ [funnel roof] over other roof types (bp.2.9.1). Most roofs have gutters, for example on the side walls, at the front and rear or even on all four sides.363 The advantage of a funnel roof (where, unlike normal roofs, the roof does 51 not extend upwards from the attachment to the wall plates, but downwards) is that the rainwater is led to the middle of the house, where it is collected in cisterns. The resemblance to the Roman roof opening – the compluvium of which Vitruvius (VI.3) speaks – is remarkable.364 Stevin discusses this rain basin or ‘regengat’ in detail (although he calls it an ‘Impluvium’ – a term that is lacking in Vitruvius), 365 discusses its construction and indicates its advantages (bp.2.9.2, bp.2.7.2-3).366 Water also plays a role in the ‘heymelick’ [privy]. Stevin places a ‘heymelick’ in each chamber, because it plays an important role in maintaining health. Van Beverwijck writes extensively about the ‘kamerganck’ [bowel movement].367 This is mainly about the problem of the stench in the house. Some causes of stench are easy to remove. First of all, one should refrain from using ‘kakpotten’ [shitboxes]. Although these are emptied outdoors, they leave the whole house stinking for a long time.368 A second cause is that intestines of fish, rabbits or poultry are carelessly thrown into the privy. The stench of intestines is many times worse than that of faeces.369 In his own words, Stevin based his work on his experiences in the army. There he noticed the difference between the gruesome stench of dead bodies on the battlefield and the stench of the shit field.370 Other causes of stench require more research. This may involve the improper use of building materials, such as soft stone for drainage pipes. The urine penetrates the soft stone while the faeces get stuck in such tubes due to unevenness.371 Even a discharge pipe that is too shallow or a pipe that ends in a dry soil will cause a stench because the excrements accumulate there. 372 Furthermore, the house can become filled with stench due to the effect of the sun on the drains or due to the wind blowing that stench in through the drains.373 And finally, the stench can spread because all kinds of parts of the privy (the glasses, the cover of the seat, the windows, the door) are badly closed or not properly made.374 Many master builders decide to place the privy outside the house because of the stench. Alberti, for example, talks about the bad habit of wanting to be right next to the most important chambers in the house. This while on the country the manure heap is placed as far away as possible because of the stench. Only the sick find it acceptable that they use a (night) shitbox. We should take an example from Nature, Alberti writes, where birds immediately remove all filth from their nests.375 Stevin, on the other hand, is of the opinion that placement in the house is a better solution after all.376 A location outside the house is inconvenient because in bad weather and at night you have to leave the house to relieve yourself.377 For the sick this is even wrong when the weather is beautiful. 378 However, when the privy is placed indoors, a number of measures are necessary, whereby some properties of both the building materials and the excrements can be used.379 Stevin lists some of them. Good drainage pipes should be, for example, made of hard stone or soft stone lined with lead. 380 Secondly, the drain must reach below 52 ground water.381 As faecal matter mixes with water, the faeces are dispersed and the stench will disappear. ... salmen den put seer diep onder het quelmvvater graven, het sant of d’eerde onder vvater uythalende sonder hoosen, met baggaerthaken of al boorende, gelijckmen de bornputten boort. d’Oirsaeck des voordeels van sulck putten is dusdanich: Het regevvater op d’eerde vallende, en daer deur sypende tot opt quelmvvater, ververscht dat geduerlick, commende alsoo ander quelmvvater in plaets vant voorgaende, vvelcke verversching noch opentlicker te mercken is, deur dien tot veel plaetsen in langduerich nat vveer sulck vvater seer hooch is, maer in lange drooge somers soo leege datmen tot ettelicke oirten, als in Zeelandt en elders, svvaricheyt heeft om met delven daer an te geraken. Dit verstaen sijnde soo is vorder te aenmercken, dat stront in ‘t vvater dun en vlietich vvort, vvelck haer mettet voorschreven quelmvvater vermengende, daer me geduerlick onder d’eerde verspreyt en den stanck doet verdvvynen. Hier af dient noch tot naerder prouve dat inde legers den stront opt schijtvelt met groote regen soo verdvvynt, datter daer na geen stof van dien gesien en vvort, noch stanck geroken.382 [... one shall dig the hole very deep under the seepage water, take out the sand or earth under water without scooping, with dredging hooks or with a drill, as one drills the bored wells. The cause of the benefit of such holes is as follows: The rainwater that falls on the earth and seeps through to seepage water continually refreshes it, so that other seepage water replaces the previous one; this refreshment is even more noticeable because in many places when the weather is wet the water is very high, but in long dry summers it is so low that in many places, as in Zeeland but also elsewhere, it is difficult to reach it by digging. On this basis it can be noted that shit in the water becomes thin and liquid, thereby mixing with the seepage water and then constantly spread under the earth and make the stench disappear. Further proof is provided by the fact that in the army the shit on the field disappears after heavy rainfall in such a way that afterwards no dust is visible, and no stench is smelled]. Where necessary, you can even run rainwater into the hole or give the privy its own pump.383 In the latter case, you can change the drain as often as you like. (Stevin does warn, however, that this pump should be dug less deep than the hole of the privy). An additional advantage is that such a drain does not need to be cleared.384 Such a ‘water closet’ was already known. It is an invention in the name of Sir John Harington, a godson of Queen Elizabeth I. The Englishman mentioned it in 1596, in a learned treatise entitled Metamorphosis of Ajax.385 Thirdly, the causes of stench caused by wind must be eliminated. If, for example, two privy’s end up on the same hole, their respective drain pipes are connected to each other. This can be prevented by making both tubes so deep that they are flooded. Also, no air holes should be made in the hole. Instead of dispelling the stench, the wind will then chase the stench into the house. 386 After all, a good remedy against 53 stench is to make one privy in every chamber. Stevin places it in the corner of the chamber against the outside wall. This privy is a small chamber consisting of stone side walls with a ceiling. In case of a wooden ceiling, it must be plastered. In the outside wall he places two windows for fresh air. One for the chamber itself, and one for the drainpipe. Finally, the little chamber is closed with a door. Internally, the privy consists of a seat with a cover, with possibly its own pump with rainwater next to it.387 Drainage of rainwater in the streets must also be properly treated. Stevin mentions three possibilities. A gutter in the middle of the street, two gutters on either side of the street and a covered watercourse or sewer (bp.2.2.1). The latter Stevin considers the best way to deal with this. In the middle of the street there should be an underground gutter with a diameter of 3 to 4 feet. Covered side gutters come out of the houses, draining their water and waste. A grille stops large pieces of stone and wood that would otherwise lead to blockages. The advantage of such a sewer is that it keeps the town cleansed of mud and stench.388 In about ten pages Stevin discusses a few other harmful phenomena. They are mainly related to heating the chambers in the house, like smoke in the chamber and the winds that cause draughts. Stevin considers difficulties caused by poorly drafting chimneys to be one of the main problems in the house. 389 Some believe that the chimneys in Holland have more discomfort from the smoke than elsewhere.390 The causes of this are quite diverse. For example, the use of peat as a fuel produces more smoke than wood. The wind can have the wrong influence on the smoke, while the shape of the chimney pipes is also significant. 391 Stevin doesn’t even rule out complaining more about the smoke because women in Holland are more fond of white walls than in other countries. Implicitly, this example indicates that until the early modern era, heating a chamber is accompanied by soot.392 Vitruvius only discusses the adverse effects of the smoke (i.e. it produces black walls) in its treatment of the interior. He advises to place smooth, easy to clean cornices and not to treat the walls with clear stucco. 393 Although Alberti pays more attention to the subject, the smoke of an open fire (lying freely in the chamber) is also an issue that can hardly be regulated. 394 In order to keep as much smoke away as possible, Alberti suggests the use of clean (burnt) wood (type of charcoal).395 Elsewhere he points out the property of whitehot charred wood to give warmth but little smoke. 396 Here, too, Stevin tries to explain the causes of smoke in the house. He has seen for himself that smoke is better drawn when water is poured around the fireplace (although the effect disappears when the water has evaporated), when a straight stick is used to poke into the chimney or when a chimney is broken down and replaced with a new one. 397 54 ‘t Gebeurt oock altemet dat den roock geholpen vvort met de schoorsteen af te breecken en vveerom een ander te maken, sonder datmen mercken can, vvaerom dat de verbeteringh geschiet: maer die hier af syn vervvondering vvil verminderen, dencke eens hoe dat sommige persoonen blasende int gaetken van een duytsche pype, en connen vvat sy oock blasen, de pype geen geluyt doen geven, niet tegenstaende sy haer mondt daer an setten en daer in zydelingh blasen, gelijck ander diese doen fluyten; nochtans by aldien de vvindt uyt haer mondt daer in quam, even eens sonder eenich verschil, gelijck van d’ander, sy soude daer in dergelijcke daet moeten vvercken; vvaer uyt te verstaen is, dat een seer cleene verandering der form, lichtelick oirsaeck can vvesen, om de sichteindersche vvinden meer of min inde buyse te doen vaten.398 [It also sometimes happens that the smoke is helped by tearing down the chimney and making another, without being able to notice, wherein the improvement lies: but whoever wishes to lessen his astonishment at this, should think of how some persons blowing into the hole of a Dutch flute, and, however they blew, could get no sound out of the flute, though they used their mouth there and blew into it sideways, as others do who get sound out of the flute; notwithstanding that the wind came out of their mouths, as with others, in exactly the same way, it should indeed work with them in the same way; from this it must be understood, that a very slight change of form, may easily be the cause of catching horizontal winds more or less in the chimney tube]. In his ‘spiegeling’ [reflection] on the smoke, Stevin also distinguishes between smoke hindered by wind coming from below (through the chamber) and wind coming from above (through the chimney pipe). In a chamber where there is a draft due to open doors, windows, or any other opening, the smoke will not enter the chimney. If this is the case (because the smoke in the chamber is sometimes reduced by opening doors and windows or because the draft is stronger than the wind coming through the chimney) then this has the disadvantage that the heated chambers cool down in winter.399 This last defect can also be easily remedied by closing doors and windows. Moreover, this is appropriate because doors and windows are made to close chambers.400 If the rising smoke is driven back into the chamber from above, i.e. by falling winds through the chimney, other causes are involved.401 From his observations of the movement of smoke between tall houses, Stevin draws the conclusion that the invisible winds are uncertain because they find obstacles on their way. They cause the wind to change its strength and direction, while (if there were no obstacles) it would continue on its own path.402 Palladio describes similar observations about the strange behavior of the smoke. He places chimneys pipes in thick walls so high that they rise above the roof. In this way the smoke is removed by the air. The pipes should not be too wide nor too narrow. If they are too wide, the air circulates too much in the pipe, pushing the smoke downwards. If the pipe is too narrow, the smoke cannot rise unhindered, and it may go down again.403 55 According to Stevin, it is mainly falling winds that bring the smoke into the chamber and against which one has to make provisions. By making use of rising winds, this shortcoming can be avoided. 404 To illustrate how the smoke could be eliminated, Stevin compares a series of eight chimney pipes (bp.2.10.1-3). Some chimney pipes he knows from his own experience, others he derives from architectural theory, such as Alberti. Another example comes from De subtilitate of the Italian mathematician and physician Cardanus (1501-1576).405 Stevin discusses successively round and square chimney pipes with various types of cutoffs. All forms are aimed at allowing smoke to escape and keeping wind from outside – as well as rain, hail and snow – out of the house.406 One cutoff can move (it rotates with the horizontal wind using a windvane). Most others consist of a combination of vent holes, tubes (‘neusgaten’, nostrils), side holes and protective shields, cylinders, side pipes and other types of covers. Although certain arguments exist for all these forms, it appears that they often do not work or work inadequately.407 In some locations an intervention even exacerbates the development of smoke.408 So there is no general rule on this point, Stevin warns. This is because the fickleness of the wind is not taken into account. For example, the rotating chimney pipe does not work in case of falling winds or in case of a horizontal wind that is very weak. 409 Others don’t work with sideways or rising winds.410 It is not uncommon for the smoke to be chased back into the fireplace. As the best shape Stevin mentions the chimney pipe that ends in a chamfered hole. Only this one can actually stop the harmful winds.411 Therefore, although the smoke has many detrimental characteristics, it is almost unavoidable because the house has to be heated.412 The fireplace is in many cases a source of abundant smoke. Nevertheless, Stevin believes that the open fire – considered by Alberti to be the best form of heating 413 – has even more disadvantages. In winter one suffers from cold when one is too far away from the fire. If you get too close, you get heated at the front, but the back still freezes. In addition, a lot of heat from the burning fire disappears directly into the chimney, so that the chamber does not remain warm for long. 414 Compared to the fireplace, the ‘stoof’ [stove] comes off better in Stevin’s eyes.415 Although he does not give any further explanation of the stove, it can be deduced from his description that it is a tiled chamber in which the fire is stoked. Others, such as the Italian Alberti and the Frenchman Descartes, who are only familiar with the open fire in the fireplace, praise this (German) stove.416 During a visit to Germany, Descartes writes, ‘I was able to lock myself in a stove all day long and devote myself freely to my contemplations’.417 The only drawback he mentions is the stench of the stove. However, this is mainly caused by throwing in things that smell bad, such as all kinds of animal waste. 418 This can be remedied by heating the stove very hot at the beginning of the winter. 419 Or by burning fragrant substances, as rich people are used to doing. (In this context, Van Beverwijck recommends burning oak or juniper berries (wood), incense or cloves 56 to improve the quality of the air and thus prolong life).420 However, the advantages of the stove outweigh this by far. A stove heats the entire chamber for a long time, does not smoke, makes no ash dust and costs less fuel (wood and peat).421 In winter or when the weather is wet, you can dry washed linen at night in the warm stove.422 Because the stove is internally fueled, in the heated room, no one experiences any disadvantage.423 These are some of Stevin’s main ideas about light, water, smell and smoke. Both these subjects and the way in which he discusses them fit into the tradition of architectural thinking in which health is a matter of balance. In terms of content, his observations differ from the statements made by Vitruvius, Alberti, Serlio and Palladio, but this is mainly due to differences in the material environment. Contrary to the four authors mentioned above, Stevin cannot assume a Mediterranean setting. Remarkable in this respect is that Sebastiano Serlio, who writes his Book VI on residential houses in France, includes specific variations for Italian and French façades. There is a significant difference in the number of windows: the more northerly, the more light should be able to enter. Stevin (like his classic predecessors) is still busy with substances important to the house, such as fuel and excrement, water and light, heat and air. He examines the good and bad properties of these substances and establishes their causes. In order to avoid or limit the disadvantages, he equips the house with a number of findings. His main contribution must therefore be sought in the nail fixing of inventions such as the privy, the stove, the cistern, the fountain and the opening window. In his proposal, these will replace mobile items such as chamber pots, fire pots, water buckets and loose front windows. Substances that were brought in or out for centuries, Stevin sees as a permanent part of the house. His three-storey house has a total of six stoves connected to chimneys, twelve fountains that obtain their water from the cisterns, twelve privies with their respective drains and with façades on either side consisting of glass walls. With this, Stevin has provided the chambers with qualities that make them fully-fledged, liberated chambers. Each chamber stands on its own and offers the body a healthy place. Each chamber has permanent access to purified rainwater, direct sunlight, heat, clean and odorless air, smoke and faeces removal. Stevin’s inventions correspond in part to what happens de facto in his time. This can be seen, for example, in the houses that Philip Vingboons designed half a century later in Amsterdam. His houses also have privy’s, kitchens with various pumps, numerous windows that illuminate chambers and chambers with a wall chimney (bp.2.17.1-3). Decisive, however, is the meaning Stevin gives to his inventions and the excess in which he places them in the house. His inventions are aimed at maintaining physical equilibria and avoiding those causes that have a harmful effect on mankind. Stenchless air, permanent sunlight, clean water, smokeless fire, uncontaminated food, these are the elements Stevin focuses on. In 57 doing so, he aims at the health of the house and its inhabitants but not in the modern sense (where ‘hygiene in the house’, the ‘mental and physical health’ are the slogans of the modern architect). 424 It is a health that is defined in terms of natural causes, purpose and equilibrium and thus considers the house and human being as part of the natural order. The abundance of inventions that characterize Stevin’s house is therefore not an expression of an incipient modernization.425 The findings are the classic parameters of a healthy place. 58 2.1.3. Classification according to Nature As we have seen in the previous sections, Stevin wants to use knowledge of Nature in two ways to make a good house. First of all, the house must be prevented from collapsing, sinking and rotting away. Second, the house must avoid making the inhabitants sick from drafts, smoke, humidity, cold, darkness and dirty water. However, Stevin includes a third category of natural properties. While the first two refer to sustainability in a physical sense (the building respectively the human being), the third has to do with a sustainability that Stevin (and others, such as Vingboons) describes as ‘gerief’ [convenience].426 The opposite – ‘ongerief’ [inconvenience] in the house – is caused, in his opinion, by the incorrect combinations of things and human beings. This brings me to the next aspect, which is the way the house is used. In order to track down the ‘use’ of a house, one usually takes the house drawing as a starting point. This is then interpreted in terms of ‘dwelling,’ ‘residential culture’ or ‘private domain’ (as opposed to the ‘public sphere’).427 It is assumed that the house plan gives an indication of the mutual social relations of the inhabitants.428 If there is a more differentiated floor plan, especially if it is equipped with certain technical facilities, then the floor plan is considered as an indication of a more developed and refined residential culture. A housing culture characterized by ‘affective individualism’, in which a growing desire for privacy and intimacy goes hand in hand with more individual behavior, while the façade area (as a transition between inside and outside) becomes more important. 429 Stevin’s house drawing is also conceived as an (ideal, desired) program of the way people (architect and client) imagined social life in the home. 430 The art historian Hollander speaks of ‘Stevin’s architectural expression of a familial ideal’ and believes that ‘Stevin articulated the boundaries between the house and the street in terms of masculine and feminine roles’.431 More generally, Hollander believes that “Indeed, Dutch moralistic literature on the family, as well as architectural and political theory, did much to champion the concept of a distinction between familial and public life. At the same time, these writers were especially concerned with emphasizing gender distinctions, often in architectural terms’.432 But others also see a causal link between social relationships and the architectural design of the house. ‘The small offices or room as Stevin envisioned offered the possibility to distance oneself not only from public life, but also from the family, the house and the social relations that belong to domestic intimacy’, writes the cultural historian Dibbets. 433 ‘Privacy’, writes the architectural historian Van den Heuvel on the occasion of Stevin’s house design, ‘also counts as an important criterion for the mutual arrangement of the ancillary rooms’.434 Nevertheless, according to the authors, the program of requirements has not yet been very developed in the early modern era. ‘The floor plans only temporarily keep a number of forms and functions together, when new functions 59 were added to certain floor plans the proportions of the individual parts changed immediately’, says Van den Heuvel. 435 Hollander subscribes to the low social stability of the spaces in the seventeenth-century house. She says that ‘Rooms did not usually have specialized functions’, which leads her to the conclusion that ‘The function of rooms is a particularly difficult problem for architectural historians’.436 Research into contemporary inventories confirms this. The use of rooms and spaces seems ‘not always rational’, historian Wijsenbeek-Olthuis must acknowledge in her research into seventeenth century ‘residential functions’.437 Sometimes there is a ‘strange huddle of rooms and corridors’, while some chambers have ‘no specialized functions’. Art historian Fock expresses this semantic and social inaccuracy by pointing out that some spaces in the Dutch seventeenth-century house are ‘multifunctional’ and others are ‘flexible’.438 By now, a social interpretation of the architectural drawing is widely accepted, as the words used in the descriptions testify.439 Orest Ranum (1989), for example, writes in his quest for the intimate as it appears in European societies between 1500 and 1700: ‘Those who have a small cottage, and those with a large house in which each room has its own function, may very well have the same level of privatization’.440 At the same time Shapin (1988) writes about the seventeenthcentury English house: ‘A house contains many types of functionally differentiated rooms, each with its conditions of access and conventions of appropriate conduct within. Social life within the house involves a circulation from one sort of room to another’.441 Here, the building is primarily conceived as a medium of social processes. ‘It seems reasonable’, Brown (1986) argues on the seventeenth-century London City Hall (bp.2.11-1-2),442 ‘to assume that the house, as a social artefact, in some measure reflects and reinforces aspects of household life. If this is so, the internal configuration of the house, should be a matter of more than formal interest: systematically analyzed, it should yield information which can enrich our understanding of society, and perhaps of social process too’.443 As a goal of his architectural-historical study he therefore describes the investigation of ‘the complex amalgam of social and cultural influences’ that play a role in the relationship between ‘society and space’.444 Other authors point out that there is no guarantee about the meaning of early modern spaces. ‘The introduction of such a differentiation in the rooms in a house is therefore not yet absolute proof of privatization,’ notes Ranum.445 And Olsen is of the same opinion when he concludes: ‘No matter how many separate rooms a dwelling has, in winter one will have little inclination to seclusion and introspection if only one room is heated’.446 Collomp too nuances the assumption ‘that the alternation of functions and living spaces is a reflection of social status’.447 But not only the floor plan of the house is described in social terms. According to the architectural historian Thomas A. Markus (1993), this interpretation is valid for all types of buildings and even applies to space in general. ‘Buildings are 60 primarily social objects’ and ‘There is no a-spatial society and no a-social space’, is how he formulated his statement concisely.448 He shows how school and prison, barracks and bathhouse from the Enlightenment on will intervene in social relationships, control and discipline them. From a similar point of view, the cultural historian Alain Corbin (1986) considered the city as it developed from the mid-eighteenth century: ‘Creating space between people and organizing a new layout of urban space and facilities – these seem to be the appropriate means of completing the work of ventilation, controlling the flow of noxious fumes and curbing the sickening influence of social evaporations’.449 More recently, sociologist Hetherington (1997) observed: ‘Social space has become a major focus for social theory over the past decade. Where once it was argued that space had not been taken seriously enough by sociologists, or had not been adequately theorized by human geographers, it is no longer necessary to make such a claim. Cultural geography and to a lesser extent the sociology of space can now be said to have become central to understanding key issues within social science: social change, modernism and postmodernism, consumption power, inequality and political and cultural resistance to name just some of them’.450 Corbin, Markus and Hetherington have two things in common, in addition to their shared European object – and in spite of the difference in their disciplinary origins: their research period (c. 1750-1900) and their pronounced angle, borrowed from Michel Foucault. Put on the same denominator by his physics of power – with a view to the spatial distribution and productive discipline of bodies as exemplified in Bentham’s Panopticon of 1799, but also aimed at the modern heterotopia – the cultural historian, the architectural historian and the sociologist meet in the project of the study of space (architectural and urban planning) from the mid-eighteenth century onwards. 451 What these studies show is that, from 1750 onwards, architecture was used in European culture at various levels as a political instrument in planning and directing the social life of the population. ‘Spatial organization invariably grows out of the program of uses in a straightforward manner'’ is how Rowe explains this politically strategic architectural concept that emerges from that moment on.452 However, what these studies leave implicitly is that the use of architecture as a social-strategic instrument did not exist before about 1750. Architecture as a programmatic tactic to organize people’s lives arose in the course of the eighteenth century, at the same time as the emergence of ‘the social’. The misunderstanding in many social scientific theories (think of Elias, but also of Goffman and later Foucault) 453 was that not only ‘the social’ was regarded as an a-historical category, but also ‘architecture as a social instrument’. 454 In short, there is ‘verbal anachronism’ when these modernist terms are used to analyze early modern architecture.455 What these studies seem to overlook, however, is the fact that, before 1750, the interrelationships between human beings within house and town were certainly being considered by early modern authors. However, the concepts and 61 terms used for this purpose were of a different order than those that will be used spontaneously today.456 The question is how, in early modern times, the traffic between and placement of living beings and inanimate substances in the home is discussed. Stevin writes about the difference in chambers, about the arrangement of chambers and about the accessibility of the whole and about the different human beings and things in the house. He uses concepts to think about the place of men and women in the house and these are related to the classification system of which they are a part. All of these concepts derive from rationality of Nature which I have discussed in the two previous sections. 457 For example, Stevin regularly makes remarks in his writing about things and human beings in the house. But while he discusses his findings with regard to light, water or smoke largely in demarcated paragraphs, his statements about objects, food, animals and human beings emerge crisscross through his text. With inanimate things as well as living beings, Stevin accepts their natural characteristics. He appreciates their respective qualities as a given. Just as certain building materials naturally affect or counteract each other, there are also qualities in things and human beings that cause convenience, or inconvenience. Those who have insight into the causes of obstacles and collisions can avoid creating offensive combinations. It is from this relationship – the matching of the disparate characteristics of human beings destined to live under the same roof – that Stevin observes everyday things and human doings in the house. He pleads for the avoidance of ‘ongerief’ [discomfort] caused by bad, caustic, disturbing and disruptive combinations that disrupt the balance of natural connections. Because of its heterogeneous combination of types of human beings, the house of the burgher is a particularly complex task that differs from institutions in which, for example, only ‘sick people’, ‘madmen’, ‘orphans’, ‘old men’ or ‘old women’ live.458 For Stevin, the classification of different types of human beings according to their natural characteristics is a method of transforming ‘living together’ in the house unto ‘wel-leven’ [well-living] in the house, joining a long line of treatise writers on the ars bene vivendy. The aim of the burghers is that they pursue the most pleasant and the best life, writes Stevin with reference to Aristotle. By the way, Stevin distinguishes himself from Aristotle’s plea for a large and expanding town.459 An aspiration that was expressed until the end of the seventeenth century, as evidenced by a statement by Willem Goeree who wrote in 1681 about building a house wisely: that ‘to inhabit well is to live well, and a house provided with conveniences, was the comfort of the world. Nothing is fairer or more profitable to humans, said Socrates, than to inhabit a good house’.460 According to Stevin, the equipment of the house is subject to the rules of the natural order. This applies not only to inanimate substances, but also to living beings. Stevin classifies the household goods according to the properties they own and then locates them in certain places in the house. 461 He distinguishes four 62 categories. First of all, there’s furniture in the house. Secondly, all kinds of utensils. Thirdly, there are the substances that enter the house to be processed, such as food and fuel. And finally, he mentions a technical work designed by himself that can be used in various ways in the household. I will go into each of these four categories below. Stevin brings up furniture in several places. These are pieces of furniture that were in use in Holland around 1600. In the chambers there are square tables, but also wooden chairs, benches, chests and cupboards. He also talks about a sideboard, beds and bed boxes. These are all flammable household items, according to him.462 Rarely does he mention where a piece of furniture is located in the house: when dealing with the roof, he mentions inhabitants who have their sleeping quarters under the roof. The master and the mistress of the house have a chamber where they can lie on the bed during the day due to illness or some other cause. He designates this chamber as a ‘slaapcamer’ [chamber to sleep].463 Judging from his remark about the ‘perk’ (a chamber in the house drawing indicated by the letter E, bp.2.3.1) there could be two bed boxes in each of the four large chambers. But chamber E (of which there are eight) is just as suitable as a closet, according to Stevin.464 Apart from the built-in bed boxes and cupboards, the other pieces of furniture such as chairs, tables, chests and carpets are movable. They’re not especially thought of in certain chambers. Even the table does not have one fixed place. It is true that there is a ‘eetcamer’ [chamber to eat] ‘where one can still sit at the table,’ but other comments show that every chamber should be suitable for a square table.465 Hence Stevin’s rejection of houses with sharp or blunt corners (bp.2.12.1). Chambers with such angles are unsuitable to place square tables (and cupboards and beds) in them. 466 In this section it will become clear that because of the square shape of the table, not only chambers and blocks of houses should have right angles, but also streets. About the chairs we read that inhabitants are used to sit near the doorway. That’s why Stevin argues for chamber doors that open to the outside. If they were to open inwards, people sitting in the semi-circle around the turning point would be bothered by the door. Another unfavorable feature of chamber doors opening inwards is that they can damage the tapestries. If the wall of a chamber is carpeted, the top of the door can scrape against it. And that means quite a bit of inconvenience for those who go in and out of the chamber. Het open en toegaen der deuren en schijnt niet soo bequaem na de sijde der camers als over d’ander sijde inde portalen, contoireu, heymelicken een dierghelijcke, om verscheyden redenen: Ten eersten dat de camers met tapijtserie behanghen sijnde en de deuren daer in open gaende, soo schrapt de bovecant der deuren teghen de tapijtserie, met ongherief der ghene die uyt en in gaen, ‘t welck soo niet en gebeurt, wanneer de deure over d’ander sijde opengaet:(...) Ten derden dat de deuren die inde camer opengaende, belet doen ant ghene 63 datter in is, inden halven omtreck door de deur beschreven, als menschen daer sittende, of yet anders daer in staende, ‘t welck over d’ander sijde soo niet en ghebeurt.467 [The opening and closing of doors seem to be less suitable to the side of the chamber, than to porch, office, privy and the like, and for several reasons: Firstly, because the chambers are covered with carpets, and the doors that open inwards scrape with their tops against the carpets, which is inconvenient for those who go in and out, and which can be prevented if the door opens to the other side (...). Third, that the doors that open inward do damage to that which is in the chamber, in the semicircle that the door makes when it opens, while inhabitants are sitting there or have put something there, and that does not happen when the door opens to the other side]. Stevin prefers carpet wall coverings to paneling or planking. The latter two have the nasty characteristic of attracting vermin, such as mice and rats that nest behind them. Loose hanging tapestry does not have these disadvantages.468 In distinction to the movable goods, there are also many objects to which Stevin gives a more precise place in the house. He makes a clear difference between crockery, linen, books, papers and valuables on the one hand and food and fuel for warmth and light on the other. A classification we can also find in Alberti’s treatise.469 These objects are assigned a place in the house based on their concrete properties. Their qualities determine whether objects are lying for grabs or are stored correctly. Objects that need to be kept dry are separated from objects that can tolerate moisture. Things for dirty work are isolated from things that need to stay clean. Precious and everyday objects are each assigned their own special location. Utensils that have to be used every day are in different places than household items for exceptional occasions. Stevin’s daily household goods include tablecloths, napkins, towels, pewter or silver dishes, plates, salt barrels, spoons, lamps, candlesticks, candle holders, table knives, forks, jugs, bottles, drinking glasses, bowls and cups.470 All items that are seldom used, such as large quantities of tablecloths, napkins, towels, silverware, precious drinking glasses and porcelain for banquets are considered valuables, and are stored separately.471 The first series goes to the ‘botelrie’ [pantry]. 472 The fact that such everyday utensils are kept in this annex of the kitchen is due, says Stevin, to the fact that they are kept free of the activities in the kitchen (bp.2.3.1). The second set of items goes to cabinets outside the kitchen areas. Money and jewelry, peat and wood, certain merchandises, washbasins and empty barrels are given their place in the cellar. This somewhat peculiar collection of objects has one characteristic in common: they are all moisture resistant.473 A similar reasoning applies to household goods that must remain dry. Books and valuable papers are kept in the water-resistant attic.474 Houseware that gets dirty and needs to be washed or sanded should be in the ‘morshoek’ [spill 64 corner]. Stevin mentions cooking pots with lids, ladles, spit, frying pans, chopping knives, barrels, tin and ironwork.475 In the spill area the dirty work takes place such as washing barrels, scouring tin and ironwork, washing linen and polishing shoes (bp.2.3.1).476 Washed and dried clothing or linen is stored in a linen closet and wardrobe.477 In addition to the fact that all valuable household items are given a separate place in the house, the chests, cupboards or chambers in question can also be locked with a key. Money, books, important papers (such as commissions from houses and land, secret letters), jewelry (such as bracelets, rings, gold necklaces, pearls), clothing or linen must be brought to safety by a money box and silver box, jewel box, book chamber, clothes box or linen closet. 478 Everything Stevin doesn’t know how to classify after all, he calls ‘rommel’ [rubbish]. And this too is assigned a special place, because each chamber has its own ‘rommelhoek’ [clutter corner] (bp.2.3.1). The basement is also suitable for this purpose.479 At first glance, this whole list seems rather capricious. Yet Stevin uses a system: he classifies objects and places according to the properties they share. In comparison, Alberti lists an even stranger collection of objects. Religious tools, toiletries for women, festive decorations, men’s garments, weapons, crockery and things needed to receive guests form a colorful whole from a modern perspective. But Alberti also classified this household goods according to similar categories. What matters to him is whether objects are used frequently or infrequently and whether they should be within reach or out of sight. In terms of working methods, Stevin and Alberti are very similar. Although they handle different objects, both use a classification of things based on some natural properties that have consequences for their application. 480 Then the third kind of thing Stevin gives a place in the house. Again, their characteristics play a role. Fuel and food, for example, are substances that are regularly brought in from outside, that undergo a change in the house, that are used and therefore need to be constantly replenished. Wood and peat can be stored in the basement, but they are also kept in every chamber.481 To this end, Stevin indicates a number of storage bins in the house drawing with D (bp.2.3.1).482 The food comes from the countryside and is supplied fresh daily. 483 In the town the food supply is divided over the different markets (bp.2.13.1). Stevin mentions meat, fish, poultry (to which he also counts eggs, hares, rabbits, roast pork, sausages, black pudding and tripe), dairy (milk, cream, fresh cheese and butter), fruit and vegetables (including chervil, salad, cucumbers, coals, carrots, beans, flowers, fragrant herbs and their seeds). 484 Food distinguishes Stevin in species that need to be kept for a long time and species that cause inconvenience because of their waste. I already mentioned the last category in the previous section. Cheese, entrails of fish, rabbits, pigs and poultry (such as chickens and geese) often end up in the ‘heymelick’ or ‘stoof’. 65 Stevin discusses the preservation of food in more detail. He reiterates how necessary it is to take into account the qualities of the substances concerned. On that basis, the perishable gets his place in the house. Grain, for example, is best stored high up and dry in the attic.485 It’s different with the daily food. Beer, wine, bread and vinegar are sensitive to frost and too much heat because of their humidity. The basement is therefore a good storage place. In winter the cellar is warm, but cool in summer. In that place, these substances can be stored for a long time without becoming smelly. Drinks, in particular, remain cool without souring.486 The only condition is that the cellar must not be damp. In that case, food such as bread and meat will become moldy and cause illness in the inhabitants.487 Finally, there is a fourth kind of household goods. It is a wind-up mechanism that can be used in the house as a roasting spit, as a clockwork and as a cradle for children. The mechanism became known because Stevin applied for a patent for it.488 ... een braetspit alleenlyk hebbende een rat van cleynen cost nochtans gaende sonder opwinden tot dattet gebraet genoech is dreye uren lanck en dat met een twee of meer speten het welcke alst niet en braet voer een uuerwerck mach gebruyckt worden wyzende de uren twelf uren lanck zonder opwinden, ende niet bradende noch uren wyzende verstrecken om een kint te wiegen en dat een halff ure ofte soo men wille een heel ure lanck eer men t gewichte weder moet opwinden. [... a roasting spit that has only a cheap wheel, without having to wind it up turns for three hours until it has roasted enough, and this can be done with one, two, or more spits; and if it does not turn a roast, it can be used as a clock, so that it can point out the hours for twelve hours without winding it up; and if it does not turn a roast and does not point out the hours, then it can serve to rock a child, for half an hour or a whole hour if you will, before the weight has to be wound up again]. The appliance works via a component, ‘de onrust’ [the restlessness] that carries out the same movement for a certain period of time: the turning of meat on a spit, the ticking of the hours and the rocking of a child have this characteristic in common. The advantage of this finding is that once the weight of this mechanism is wound up, it continues to move for a certain period of time. In this way, a roasting spit (with one, two or more roasting pens) can run above the fire for three hours, a clock can run for twelve hours and it can rock a child (in the cradle) for 30 to 60 minutes. The meat must be roasted, the hours counted, and the child rocked. 66 This example introduces the last aspect that still requires treatment: the living beings in the house. Already in the previous section some characteristics of human beings were discussed. They suffer from moisture, cold, darkness, wind, excrements and diseases. They need warmth, but they also need light, air, pure water and food to maintain their health. This inevitably means that there will be inconvenience from smoke and stench. So, a master builder has to calculate with the nature of man, but he cannot prevent or change these aspects of the human body. Knowing that some substances cause nuisance, he tries to prevent them as much as possible by making a well-working chimney or an odorless privy. Stevin starts from the special nature of living beings. The question why humans and animals have certain tendencies lies beyond reason in early modern times. Nature has provided the bee and the pig with different characteristics. It is their own nature that makes the bee take pleasure in lovely, fragrant flowers, while the pig prefers filthy, smelly muck. inder vougen, dat eenen die vorder vraegde de reden vvaerom ons sulcx niet en bevalt, en ’t ander angenaem is, ’t schijnt datmender op soude mogen antvvoorden, ’t selve, gelyck *begin [Principium], soo weynich voorder ondersouck te behouven, al waerom de bie heur uyter natuer verheucht in lieflicke welriekende bloemen het vercken in vuyle stinckende dreck.489 [... if anyone asks what is the reason that one thing displeases us, and another is pleasant to us, it seems that one must answer, that the fundamental principle of this needs no investigation, any more than the question why the bee naturally rejoices in lovely, fragrant flowers, and the pig in dirty, smelly dung]. Human beings have their natural inclinations too. Their nature allows them to jump, dance, sing, play, and walk around.490 Apart from these general characteristics, certain types of humans are distinguished by the fact that they lack specific characteristics (sometimes temporarily). If such a characteristic is missing, for example when people cannot sing well, then according to Stevin there is an ‘onvolkomenheid van de Natuur’ [imperfection of Nature].491 Stevin classifies (entirely in line with other early modern writers) human beings according to certain (missing) characteristics. Pregnant women, for example, are prone to monstrous pictures. Because Stevin recognizes this characteristic, he advises not to make figures in painted windows in which human and animal limbs are mixed or in which figures show chilling grimaces.492 Another example that shows his conception of innate tendencies of humans is his remark about the ineradicable cleansing propensity of Dutch women. Because of this innate property, they polish the inside of wooden window frames until they shine. Men, on the other hand, are endowed with the desire for stone window frames. If they 67 want to live in peace with their wife, Stevin argues, men must solve the dilemma they are faced with. They need to find a middle ground where both natures are respected. His advice to these men is to choose a stone that shines much better than the frequently rubbed wood. For, Stevin argues, in that case both the special characteristics of the woman (with a preference for shiny material) and the man (with a preference for hard stone) can be honored and the peace of the house will not be in danger.493 In short, Stevin thinks within the classical natural philosophical universe in which inanimate substances and living beings each have their own special orientation. In Aristotelian thought, Nature expresses itself in the rules of matter. All substances therefore pursue goals that are expressed in their properties. But just as certain building materials naturally weaken or counteract each other, there are also qualities in things and humans that cause inconvenience. The question of whether the properties of living beings are changeable is not an issue in Stevin’s thought. He will, as he did with building materials, only start from humans innate tendencies to classify them according to their pros and cons.494 However ‘inappropriate’ in modern eyes, for Stevin and other early modern writers, classifying people on the basis of their natural characteristics is a method of regulating living together in the same house. This is only possible if one avoids mutual hindrance. The taxonomy in which human beings are put together based on their innate characteristics has been a familiar theme in architectural thinking since Vitruvius. 495 His description of the Greek house with its internal order (bp.2.14.1-2) migrates through time and appears not only in Stevin’s architectural treatise (bp.2.15.2), but also, for example, in the treatises Alberti and Palladio (bp.2.15.1). 496 Vitruvius’ description forms the pattern of the later classifications: the difference between men and women (biological sex), the distinction between guests and members of the own family (in terms of kinship), between family members and service staff (cook, maid, sentinels, wrestlers) or between man and animal (horses). The classic idea is that the ‘natural apartheid’ serves the happiness and wellbeing of mankind. 497 Because well-being is not achieved in the same way for all types of human beings, the Greek house has been divided into separate domains (divided by types). 498 In the women’s domain, women are occupied with wool (and men are excluded).499 In the men’s domain, men use the communal meal (women are denied access here).500 The communal stays of the house belong to the family members (to which guests have no access), while guests have their own domain (to which family members are not allowed).501 The Greek house shows, according to Vitruvius, what it means to arrange a house based on human characteristics. Precisely because the characteristics of family members differ, it is necessary to meet their specific requirements in order to live together under the same roof. This is also the reason why ‘Italian’ houses differ in form: they give shape to the ‘Italian' properties’.502 68 After Vitruvius, Alberti also classifies chambermates in terms of age, sex, health and kinship. For example, he sees giving birth to children or other natural phenomena in women as an argument for giving men and women separate bedchambers.503 Because of their special characteristics, young virgins and young boys, but also the old sick father (or mother) and the wet nurse, the guests and adult sons should all have their own chamber.504 That Alberti’s natural taxonomy of housemates in the early modern period serves as a commonplace is evident from some loose comments by Philip Vingboons about the place of men and women in the house, but above all from the great resemblance his classification has with the enumeration of Willem Goeree at the end of the seventeenth century: Vraagt men nu ook om een beschetzing te hebben, die aanwijzen kan, hoedanig een Huis ten opzicht van zijn verdeeling en schikking ter gebruik en wooning behoorde gereguleerd te zijn: wy meenen datmen ‘t met weinig woorden aldus doodverwen kan: Byna in alle staten, moet het voorste gedeelte van een huis, voor den Man of Huisvader geordineerd zijn; om daar zijn Voorhuis, zijn Winkel, zijn Komptoir, zijn Salet of spreekkamer, en zijn Pakkelder,&c. te hebben. De Vrouw of Huismoeder heeft haar verblijfplaats, in en ontrent de achter vertrekken; daar ook de Kook en Woonkeukens, Washuis en de rest der dingen tot de Huishouding noodig ontrent moeten geordineerd zijn. De Kamers voor de Kinders moeten dicht by die van de Ouders en voornaam van de Moeder zijn, schoon ook datmen die door andere laat waarnemen. De gemeene Slaapkamers moeten niet zoo deun by de hand noch voor den eersten aanloop zijn, dan de plaatzen daar men iemant spreekt of ontfangt. Studeerplaatzen moeten in den stilsten hoek geschikt zijn. De Kamers die men houd om vrienden te Huisvesten moeten niet te wijd van den uitgank zijn; op datze zonder groot beslag en geswerm door ‘t Huis te maken, vry konnen uit en in gaan: de Kamers der bejaarde Kinderen mogen wel dicht ontrent de vrienden Kamers zijn, op datze goede gelegentheid mogen hebben, hun vrienden wel te festeren, of gedienstigheid te offreren, en met menschen wel te leeren omgaan.505 [If one asks for a sketch to show how a House, given its division and arrangement for the purpose of use and habitation, should be organized: we think that with a few words it can be characterized thus: Almost everywhere, the front part of a House, is for the Man or House-Father; to have there his ‘Voorhuis’ [Front Chamber], his Shop, his Office, his Salon or Parlor, and his Basement and the like. The Wife or House-mother has her quarters, in and around the chambers at the back; there are also the Kitchens, Laundry and the rest of the things necessary for Housekeeping. The Children's Chambers should be close to those of the Parents and especially those of the Mother, although one can also let others take care of them. Regular Bedchambers should not be so close to places where one speaks or receives someone. Studies should be put in the quietest corner. The Chambers that one keeps to accommodate friends should not be too far from the exit; so that without too much fuss and without walking around too much in the House, they can get in and out freely: the Chambers of adult children may be close to the Chambers of their friends, so that they may 69 have good opportunities to please their friends, or want to do them favors, and so learn to deal with other human beings]. Although Stevin is less pronounced in this respect, he also gives a list of different kinds of housemates. In addition to a single servant or cook, there are children of different ages with various peculiarities. 506 Just as the baby wants to be rocked, so youngsters tend to have fun with the ball game. 507 Daughters want to look out the window across the street. Friars have the urge to enter their lover’s house at night.508 But also the housewife and the housefather are marked by the difference in natural orientation. Stevin’s advice to culturally emphasize this sexual difference by means of recognizable clothing is also considered wise by others – such as Descartes. It’s not Nature who prescribes the clothes, Stevin says, because each culture has its own dress code to which man and woman must obey. This is the only way to prevent later accidents resulting from a person’s unclear status. Stevin speaks of: ‘Volgelicke daermen hem na gevougen moet, als dat mans gecleet gaen na de gebruyck van mans, niet als vrouvven, vvant hoevvel de natuer sulcken cleet voor vrouvven niet eygentlick veroirdent en heeft, doch vereyscht de rede soodanige regel in een Lantschap onderhouden te vvorden, om de ongevallen te verhoeden die uytte contrari volgen’. 509 [followable rules, to which one must conform, such as that men should be dressed as male custom demands, and not as women are accustomed to dress, for although Nature does not prescribe specific clothing for women, reason demands that such a rule be observed in a Country or region, so that accidents are prevented if one does the reverse]. From the differences in the innate nature of men and women, also results the difference between the activities they perform. According to Stevin, the housewife (or house mother) is attracted to the care of linen and clothing, the house father (master of the house) tends to take care of money and paperwork. A rentier or public servant has other habits than a merchant, an innkeeper or a shopkeeper. 510 So, we see that Stevin too arranges the inhabitants in the house according to the registers of kinship, age and sex. A good and comfortable life in the house requires that the differently grounded housemates are accommodated, with the consequence that they hinder each other as little as possible. The sound of one is noise for the other. The same applies to the smells and glances that can cause nuisance, such as stench and peeking in. Stevin uses a number of means to guarantee the comfort of different types of housemates (and thus avoid inconvenience caused by unregulated mixing). Apart from a large number of chambers (as advocated by others), his attention is focused on the accessibility of the whole, the internal dignity of the house, the use of a large number of keys and finally the regulated exclusion of strangers. I will go into these four points briefly. In the tradition of architectural thinking, it is not uncommon to isolate properties of housemates by means of a large number of chambers in order to prevent nuisance. With sufficient chambers and wealth, various activities can be 70 placed apart, which prevents an offensive or taxing encounter. Stevin does this, among other things, in his elaboration of the Princely Court (bp.2.6.1). There Stevin has categorized by properties that result in the isolation of incriminating matters (stench, noise, distracting looks). The well-to-do, harmoniously arranged courtyard consists of several domains (courtyards with chambers all around) that are entirely intended for certain types of inhabitants. Not only the prince but also the princess and the counselors and guests have their own domains. The reason for this separation is that some people cause trouble by making noise, producing stench, dirt and ugliness and therefore must be set apart. Soldiers and folk who take care of the stables (and the horses and wagons), but also those who provide services for the court (in the kitchen, the pastry and bread bakery, the corn mill, the brewery, the pantry, the fuel, wine and beer cellars, the laundry, the pharmacy and the chamber for the sick). Folk who engages in these kinds of activity, necessary but insulting to a princely court, is placed by Stevin as close to the entrance as possible, far from the prince and princesses’ quarters at the rear (this is in contrast to the burgher houses where the most important is at the front). In this way, prince and princess with their respective courts, governmental colleges and foreign gentlemen have been cleansed of the insignificant and distressing things (one does not hear, see and smell them). 511 The house of the burgher also has many chambers: about fifteen, which are divided by Stevin over two floors and the basement (not counting the attic). A number of smaller ones can be added per chamber for separate activities that have to be handled in isolation, such as ‘schrijfpercken’ [place where you write] and ‘kabinetjes’ [small chambers]. For the master of the house, it is convenient when he has his own chambers. This includes his ‘slaapkamer’ [bedchamber], the basement below and the chamber on the floor above.512 The staircase connecting these chambers may only be used by the master of the house.513 In this way, he is safeguarded from others. After all, the cause of walking above his head and of possible peeking through a hole in the ceiling has been eliminated. In this way the master of the house can leave valuable books and paperwork out of the family’s sight.514 This example touches on a second means of organizing a comfortable home: the accessibility of the chambers. Stevin deals with this mainly in the paragraph titled ‘Door welke kamers of perken men bekwamelijk mag gaan, om tot de ander te komen, en door welke niet’.515 [By which chambers or places one may easily go, to come to the other, and by which not]. Vitruvius already pointed out that not all chambers in the house are generally accessible. The atrium house, situated around a courtyard, includes two types of places. There are locations (such as courtyard or vestibulum, hall and colonnade or peristylium) where people have the right to enter without invitation and there are locations where one may enter only with the permission of master of the house (such as bedchamber, dining chamber and bath).516 For Vitruvius, accessibility depends on what is appropriate. 71 For him, ‘dignity’ (decorum) is a matter between the master of the house and his public status in town. The impeccable appearance of a house must be in accordance with the public status of the owner. 517 ‘That’s why,’ Viutruvius writes, ‘people in mediocre positions do not need beautiful courtyards, workplaces or atriums, because they visit others and do not need to receive visitors themselves’.518 Accessibility may vary from region to region. For example, the Greek house lacks the atrium completely and the narrow vestibule is immediately closed by an internal door. Stevin also states that the house is only accessible to strangers to a limited extent. Guests do not go beyond the ‘voorhuis’ [front hall], which is only accessible from the outside through the front door. If a foreigner wishes to speak to the master of the house alone, he will at most be admitted to the office. 519 Stevin shares Vitruvius’ attention to appropriateness and dignity. But with him, the emphasis has shifted somewhat. What is appropriate in the house is not only determined by the public status of the master of the house in town, but also by the guarantee of the inward dignity in the house of all housemates individually. 520 Already in the Palazzi of the Renaissance, where the chambers were placed enfilade (bp.2.33.3), the dignified relationship between the housemates was strictly regulated by etiquette. Therefore, the seemingly simply overlapping chambers do not indicate a free, loose and passionate traffic between the inhabitants as is often believed today. Evans, for example, states that an ‘open floor plan’ and the ‘network of interconnected spaces’ is inherent ‘to a society that is nourished by sensuality, which recognizes man in the body and where it is usually sociable’.521 He contrasts this utopian representation (in which eyecatching forms, pleasure, passionate contact and conviviality form the core) with that of the ‘brainwashed’ modern architecture that has cut away social experiences, stench, dirt, noise, illness, banished and put away, with the result that everyday life today has been ‘reduced to a shadow show’.522 Anyone who reads the work of Baldassare Castiglione mentioned by Evans (The Book of the Courtier, 1508-1518), or the Roman Dialogues by Francisco de Holanda (15071584), will see that although the characters are (as Evans states) ‘fully absorbed in the dynamics of human interaction,’ these dynamics are highly regulated by good manners, mutual esteem, honor, public status, name, eloquence, loss of face, promises made, in short, an elaborate and detailed set of formalized conventions.523 The fact that the form of these open, interlocking chambers ‘seems to have had no influence whatsoever on the distribution of persons or on their relationship’ is because architecture in the early modern period is not organized in a modernist way.524 This only happened when the ties with Nature were cut through and architecture began to serve all the desires of ‘the self’ in ‘the functional house for a life without friction,’ as designed by Alexander Klein (1928).525 72 Opposite the visible spatial openness of the chambers, opposite the undifferentiated floor plan in which walls and doors are missing, there is, at least for modern people, an invisible pattern of conventions that highly regulated the ‘appropriate use’ of the chambers. Waddy showed how the linear succession of continuous chambers in the Roman apartment inhabited by cardinals in the seventeenth century had extensive instructions on the placement of furniture, dining tables and chairs, the lowering of curtains and all this to divide and partition the space according to the status of the visit. Although it is not an example of the daily routine in a house, this example does expose the modern assumptions of interpretation. 526 Stevin’s dignity also depends on maintaining the internal freedom of all housemates. The degradation of one’s prestige by chambermates with other (and therefore annoying) characteristics keeps him very busy, given the examples he gives. Stevin strives to set up chambers that are free from random mixing. This explains his statement that it is inappropriate to go via the dining chamber (where one can still sit at the table), via the bedchamber (where one can still lie on the bed) or via the office (where the master of the house can speak to someone) to the ‘voorzaal’ [front chamber] (the chamber where all housemates can sit together). Such a general accessibility makes inhabitants and chambers unfree and upsets the inhabitants who are in there. In a similar vein is his remark that it is inappropriate when one has to go through the pantry or the spill corner to get into the kitchen. Belanghende de Eetcamer, ‘t is bequamer daer deur te gaen na de Slapecamer, dan verkeert deur de slaepcamer na de eetcamer op dat de ghene die dagelicx an tafel commen, en dickwils daer te doen hebben, den Heer of sijn Vrou die deur sieckte of ander oirsaeck opt bedde mochten legghen, niet hinderlick en sijn. Deur de keucken na de botelrie te gaen, schickt beter dan verkeert deur de botelrie na de keucken, om dat inde botelrie te bewaren staen dinghen die meer bevreyt willen sijn, te weten al ‘t geen men dagelicx totte tafel behouft (...). Soo oock deur keucke na de morshoeck te gaen past beter dan verkeert deur de morshoeck na de keucken, om datmen inde morshoeck, om ander plaetsen niet te ontvreyen, het vuyl werck doet ... 527 [As for the dining chamber, it is easier to go through it to the bed chamber, than to go through the bed chamber to the dining chamber, so that those who come to the table every day, do not bother the master of the house or his wife who may be lying on the bed because of illness or another cause. To go through the kitchen to the pantry, fits better than the other way around through the pantry to the kitchen, because in the pantry things are kept that want to be liberated, namely everything that one needs daily at the table (...). So also going through the kitchen to the spill corner fits better than the other way around going through the spill corner to the kitchen, because in the spill corner one does the dirty work, in order not to make other places unfree ...] 73 chambers are robbed of their freedom (‘te ontvryen’) by such an irregular passage, and the housemates are hindered in their activities. It is more appropriate to go from the ‘voorzaal’ [front hall] to other chambers and via the dining chamber to the bedchamber or via the kitchen to the pantry (bp.2.3.1).528 In order to meet his requirement of adequate accessibility, Stevin therefore provides the house with two stairwells. Each stairwell consists of three straight staircases on top of each other.529 He assigned one to the lord of the house, the other to the other housemates.530 This prevents family members from entering his domain without the father’s permission and allows him to go about his business undisturbed.531 When, at the end of the century, Goeree speaks rather disparagingly of Stevin’s cumbersome form of accessibility, the hallway – an excellent means of allowing the different rooms to stand on their own, but which is lacking in Stevin's house – is amply included in the Dutch floor plans at that time.532 The theme of respect for inward dignity also explains why Stevin repeatedly points out the need to keep the doors of a chamber closed. The number of doors in a house depends on what a chamber need, which is confirmed by Alberti.533 The purpose of doors is to prevent people from being looked at. It is in fact inconvenient and inappropriate to sit in an open chamber against his will.534 For that reason, privies also should have a door. Only out of other people’s sight can someone be at ease.535 Stevin thus follows in the footsteps of Alberti and Palladio with regard to the privy as a ‘secret’ place [‘heymelick’]. What is a natural state of affairs for each human being, but for the other stinks (Alberti) and is unpleasant to see (Palladio), should be placed at a distance and out of sight. Only this approach respects the dignity of all housemates. Both writers (and Stevin joins them) are of the opinion that the natural defecation should be given a dignified place. They therefore advocate separate ('secret') places that are not openly accessible. It is not the ‘embarrassment’ Norbert Elias suggested, that is the cause, but the convenience, the comfort of these natural processes and their dignified treatment in relation to housemates.536 Angaende datmen in de huysen sonder heymelicken bolted, kackpotten gebruyckt, die dickvvils uytgedregen vvorden vvorden, dats a vuyle manier, en maeckt oock stanck inde camers, soo vvel te vvyle de vuylicheyt daer remain standing, as int uytdraag, vvelcke stanck vvel longer daer naduert. With heymelicking in the camers expires and has the prescribed inconveniences not, but the unluckiness of stanck crygende, 't is somvvijlen onverdragelick ...) Now to segue the heymelick huyskens, soo is to grease that in some camers with heymelick, no huyskens and are, but the set is maeckt in a private banck, after the lid over the glasses commende open and toegaet as of a box, sonder uyterlick to schynen thatter is a heymelick; Other sets are standing in the muer ontrent 1 1/2 feet deep, with a door for the hollow and oock sonder huysken. Now as much as some sulcke heymelicken no more stancx in the cameras and then sacrifice no more and sail, however, 74 have other faults there, and moreover it is unmistakable, that the one who is there on sit, from other in the camera, is ready to go, so is the oirboir of the houseboys to segregate.537 [As for houses built without privies, and use shit boxes, which often have to be emptied outside, is a filthy way of doing things, causes prolonged, unbearable stench in the chambers. If one places privies, one does not have that inconvenience. Regarding privies, sometimes there are privies without an enclosure, just a seat in an enclosed unit whose cover opens and closes over the seat like a coffin, and it is not visible that it is a privy. In other cases, the privy is in the wall, about a foot and a half deep, with a door in front of it. While such privies bring no more stench into the chamber than if there were no privy, a privy without a fence has more flaws, such as that it is not proper for the person sitting on it to be seen, so let's talk about the construction of the privy] In support of respect for natural actions, Alberti and Palladio both refer to an example from Nature. As much as some acts are part of the nature of living beings, they do cause inconvenience to others, resulting in a possible violation of dignity. That’s why swallows remove the unclean stinking droppings directly from their nest, Alberti writes. 538 That is why Nature has not placed the ignoble, but indispensable parts of man openly in sight, Palladio argues. In a similar way, it is inappropriate in the house to prominently show the vital, but for the eye and nose of other housemates offensive acts and thus damage the appearance of the house by their ugliness and stench. Alberti prefers to see the privy outside, while Palladio gives it a place in the basement. Stevin, on the other hand, explicitly pleads for a ‘heymelick’ in the house. In his drawing, he provides each chamber with such a small, closed chamber, equipped with a lockable door, two windows that can be opened to the outside, a deep drain, a permanent flush with rainwater and seat with a cover.539 Stevin wants to guarantee the freedom of the chambers and thus of the housemates not only by installing many doors (thirty-two per floor), but also by making the chambers in the house lockable. Of course, keys have traditionally been used to keep valuables in chambers, cabinets or chests under lock and key because of the tendency of some people to steal them. Alberti writes about it too, for example, in his Della Famiglia (1430).540 But Stevin introduces a system in which both the master and the mistress of the house have their own key. This gives both of them access to six locks for their own use.541 The master of the house is the only one who has access to his office, his book chamber, the silver and jewel box, money box and a chest with valuable papers.542 With her own key, the mistress of the house has sole access to her linen closet, her wardrobe, her own jewel case and other secret places. 543 Moreover, their key fits on thirty ordinary locks (each of which can also be opened with its own key). The mistress of the house (and therefore also the master) can open thirty-six locks in the house 75 with her own key, with the exception of the locks to which her husband (or his wife) has access. Neither the key of the master of the house nor the thirty other keys can therefore give access to her property. With this key system, Stevin guarantees the internal freedom of the chambers and the integrity of the inhabitants. Moreover, it is easy if one of the many keys has become unusable, lost or broken. Using the key of the master or mistress of the house, the lock can still be opened and there is no need to get the locksmith with a runner. In addition, Stevin uses locks and keys as a means against dishonest people. He has a particular eye on ‘vrijers’ [suitors] and thieves. Suiters have the natural inclination to visit the daughter of the house at night. 544 Thieves tend to search for other people’s property at night, even climbing over the roofs.545 Both types of people try to gain access to the house in an unusual way and to the detriment of the burger and the family. Thieves do this by drilling holes in the frame, smashing in windows and unlocking them with one hand.546 Suitors preferably try to enter through windows that can be opened. 547 However, the inconvenience caused by these people’s peculiarities is preventable. For example, by not situating the courtyard on the street, making the shutters out of iron or copper, placing bars in upper and lower lights and locking windows on the inside. However, the measures taken against persons entering and leaving the building at night must not be such that the inhabitants are at risk in the event of fire and are locked up in the building.548 Hence Stevin’s advice to combine ‘iron bars’ in the two upper lights with a lock and on the two lower windows. This lock can be opened with the key of the door’s deadbolt.549 During the day this deadbolt can be used normally, but at night only with the special key that the master or the mistress of the house, or someone they trusts.550 Another form of unwanted entrance is peeking in. Like passers-by on the street glancing on the mistress of the house or her daughters sitting in the window.551 the And there are neighbors who, from their own houses, cast uncomfortable glances at the comings and goings of inhabitants.552 Both types affect the freedom of the house and violate the appearance of the housemates by their irrepressible tendency to look inside. So, the cause of peeking in must be eliminated. In the first case, Stevin raises the floor from the ground floor (2 to 2 1/2 feet). As additional advantage of this intervention, he mentions that it prevents creeping up moisture and provides direct daylight in the basement. The chambers are then so high that from the street you can no longer see what’s happening inside. From the chamber it is still possible to have an unobstructed view on the street.553 In the second case, Stevin arranges a block of houses so that a courtyard has blind walls where it adjoins a neighboring house.554 The shift from external prestige in the case of Vitruvius to inward dignity has been evident in European architectural practice since the mid-fifteenth century. In Stevin’s architectural thinking both aspects of dignity can be found side by side. 76 On the one hand he points to the ‘princely’ appearance that a burgher can derive from the grandeur of the closed façade of which his house is a part.555 On the other hand, his work shows a process that could be described as ‘chamber formation’. Architectural historian Meischke once introduced this term to characterize the spatial evolution in the Dutch house. It is a process in which the medieval house with only one stone chamber expands into an ensemble of chambers and corridors.556 In his view, this transformation cannot be interpreted as an expression of functional differentiation or increasing individualization. Of the factors Meischke distinguishes, two are explicitly mentioned in Stevin’s work. The first process involves protecting valuables by storing them in tightly lockable chambers or crates.557 Secondly, to regulate the ‘indoor climate’ by eliminating odor, moisture, wind and smoke.558 Only when the smell of the house (rising from the subsoil, building materials, faeces, etc.) is under control, says Meischke, does man begin to smell himself: only then is a hierarchy of smells established and does a ‘collective hypersensitivity’ occur, then the elimination of malodorous smells begins and the bath enters the house. In other words, the ‘deodorization’ can only begin when the history of the smell – from the middle of the eighteenth century onwards – begins.559 Meischke understands it as a process aimed at banning all kinds of uncomfortable aspects from the house. However, the term ‘chamber formation deserves a broader meaning. The term can also refer to the ratio of the early modern link between the natural order and the classical classification. Indeed, Stevin’s natural classification of inhabitants in the burgher house has a twofold purpose: on the one hand, to protect their valuable qualities (and thus the appearance of the house as a whole), and on the other hand, to avoid mutual hindrance, disturbance and affront (caused by differences in housemates according to sex, age, kinship and health) so that the dignity of the house remains intact. Classical efficacy is for the benefit of everyone’s dignity, but also for the benefit of the house. In this sense, Stevin’s chamber formation is in line with the house drawings that Philips Vingboons published half a century later. His houses also have many different chambers, including privies, kitchens with various pumps and numerous windows that illuminate the chambers (bp.2.17.1-3). Decisive in these findings is again the link between the natural orientations of human beings, the abundance of separate chambers and the accessibility in the house. Stevin's multiple measures, but also Goeree’s allocation of chambers to the various housemates, are therefore not based on ‘use’ in the modern sense of the word. Both think in terms of a classical classification by which one’s house is preserved from unseemly, burdensome and offending things that others naturally bring about, for the sake of a house of which the burgher can be proud. A master builder who ignores the natural characteristics of young virgins and boys in the early modern era can, according to Willem Goeree, be called to account for 77 this.560 This happened when an Amsterdam merchant held the master builder responsible when the servant made the maid pregnant. For the master builder had placed their bedchambers too close together. De Knechts Slaapkamer en die van de Meiden dienden zoo wijd van den anderen gehouden te werden, als ‘t vier van de verbrandelijke dingen: ook moetenze niet door ofte voorby malkander gaende, bezogt werden: zeker Koopman tot Amsterdam wiens Knecht een van zijn Dienstmeiden bestruift had, wou den Bouwmeester, om dat hy haar Slaapkamers met te grooten gebuurschap geordinbeerd hadde, het kint met drommels kracht, voor een leerjongen t’huis gezonden hebben. [The Servants’ Bedrooms and those of the Maids were to be kept as far apart, as the fire of inflammable things: nor were they to meet in passing; a Merchant in Amsterdam whose Servant had made one of his Maids pregnant, intended to deliver the child as an apprentice to the Master Builder, who had placed their Bedrooms too close together]. 78 2.1.4. The Properties of the House Drawing Classifying people and things is a symbolic issue in many cultures. It brings order, appoints kinships and creates a certain hierarchy. Classifications are often very refined, as will be seen in the poetry of Jacob Cats and in the imaginations of Pieter de Hooch.561 Stevin only classifies people and things by properties that concern the house. This is due to the scientific nature of his writing, an issue which will be addressed in section 2.2.3. Classification is from Aristotle onwards part of the formation of theories.562 In this section I will first discuss another question. Stevin’s classification of living beings and inanimate substances seems to result in a division of the chambers. The line pattern of his house drawing easily leads to the conclusion that he arranges the ‘social’ use through the drawing. Although modern literature acknowledges many types of architectural drawings – one distinguishes between work and detail drawings (rarely preserved), revision drawings (after completion), measurement drawings, sketch, cartographic representation of town or building, planimetric drawing, topographical drawing, design drawing, specification drawing and the representative (often perspective) drawing, ‘ideal plans’ and drawings that play a role in the decision-making process between architect and client – one assumes that each drawing relates, sooner or later, to a spatially organized and realizable building.563 The drawing is derived from a building or it leads to it. Linfert wrote in 1931: ‘We assume that the actual purpose of the architectural drawing is to be the decisive document of a “building program”’.564 Based on statements made by Stevin, this assumption does not seem to apply as a matter of course to the drawings he has included in his architectural writing. He obviously puts different accents on it. Thus, he attaches great value to numbers and lines and their ability to generate forms. For Stevin, the drawing primarily boils down to a mathematical arrangement of material properties of numbers and lines. In Stevin’s view, there is no question of an ‘immaterial, mathematical’ design containing a universal scientific truth, as one interprets the Renaissance ‘disegno’.565 That is why the discussion of the natural properties of the drawing is appropriate here. By the way, it should be noted that I have no pretensions whatsoever to map the early modern mathematical universe. Historical mathematics is difficult to access for non-specialists.566 Unlike the neatly packaged and streamlined knowledge of contemporary mathematics, in early modern times there is a heterogeneous mixture of Greco-Arabic knowledge with varying and mutually inconsistent characters. In this section I am concerned with the cultural-historical significance of numbers and lines in the early modern conceptual universe. In section 2.2.2. I will return to the house drawing with the question of how this formal arrangement relates to the other layers of significance (discussed above). 79 Stevin’s views on numbers, lines, drawings and the properties they naturally possess are consistent with his thoughts on substances, living and inanimate beings as discussed in the preceding sections. The characteristics of numbers and quantities (contained in arithmetic and geometry, respectively) are as much a part of Nature as the ability of man to reason or the fate of substances. Ouermits de *stof des ghetals al een ander is dan die der grootheyt, soo sijn de leeringhen haerder eyghenschappen terecht vanden anderen ghescheyden, ende elck voor een besonder Const ghehouden, als *Telconst [Arithmetica] ende *Meetconst [Geometria], op dat elcke alsoo oirdentlicker, eyghentlicker, ende verstaenlicker soude mueghen beschreuen worden.567 [As the *substance of number is different from that of and Quantity, so the lessons of its properties are rightly separated from the others, and each belongs to a separate Const, such as *Telconst [Art of counting, Arithmetic] and *Meetconst [Art of measurement, Geometria], that each may be so well ordered, according to its nature, and intelligibly described]. With his recognition of the miraculous properties of numbers and lines, he joins other scholars who explore Nature, such as Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler, Beeckman, Descartes and Newton. They lived in a wondrous world in which numbers, musical melodies and celestial bodies are part of related forms. ‘And indeed,’ Nicolaus Copernicus writes in 1543 in his De Revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium, ‘sitting on a royal throne, the Sun rules the family of surrounding stars’. Since the work of Francis Yates and others, it is clear that the scientific revolution was less rationalistic or straightforward than long assumed. 568 Until well into the seventeenth century, scholars used a mix of magical worldview and what we now understand by ‘modern’ science.569 But Stevin also thinks along the lines of Renaissance architecture theorists such as Alberti and Serlio who – although architectural history has been silent about this since Wittkower – emphasize the exceptional power of numbers. 570 Alberti, for example, states on the basis of ‘a thorough Examination of the Works of Nature’, for instance, ‘that the Number eight has an extraordinary Power in the Nature of Things’.571 Or that different kinds of numbers exist in Nature, such as ‘even’ and ‘odd’. Depending on the special qualities they possess, both types of numbers can be applied in different situations. 572 For example, each number has the natural (innate) ability to ‘reproduce’ and make new offspring. Numbers ‘fit’ together and can ‘increase’. By ‘doubling’ or ‘halving’, by merging numbers, by taking root or lifting power (in a way regulated by Nature) a family of related numbers is generated and forms that ‘sprout from each other’.573 Alberti states ‘that Nature is sure to act consistently, and with a constant Analogy in all the Operations’.574 Familiar with the special abilities that Nature has bestowed on numbers, man can make use of them. Serlio points, for example, to the natural 80 ability of line segments to provide for offspring, such as new lines, or compositions such as ‘planes’ and ‘bodies’.575 With knowledge of these natural rules, the architect or workman can allow shapes to emerge from numbers and change lines or shapes. 576 Stevin too points in his mathematical work several times to the mysterious properties that Nature has given to numbers and line segments. In his commission of the L'Arithmetique to Johan Cornets de Groot, Stevin speaks of ‘la cognoissance de plusieur mysteres’ [the knowledge of many mysteries]. De Groot himself praises Stevin – signed with his anagram Darie Togon – as the one who ensured that ‘La cueillirés les secrets de nature’ [gathering nature’s secrets] could be picked.577 Sometimes Stevin – almost between the lines – makes remarks like this: ‘Now we have come to the last problem of this book, which is on the highly singular and admirable Rule of Algebra, the Inexaustible fountain of infinite Arithmetical Theorems, Revealer of the Mysteries hidden in numbers’.578 In his Beghinselen der weeghconst [Principles of weighing] he writes: Dat Ghetal Grootheyt ende Ghewicht, in yder wesentlicke saeck *onscheydelicke ancleuvinghen [Inseparabila accidentia] sijn, vol diepe en nutte eyghenschappen, en betuyghen niet alleen verscheyden gheleerden, maer is duer d’eruaringh in allen an elcken bekent.579 [That Number, Greatness and Weight, in every essential matter are *not separable appendages [Inseparabila accidentia], are full of deep and useful properties, and convince not only several scholars, but is by experience known to all]. Although much knowledge has taken the form of the art of measuring (geometry) and the art of counting (arithmetic) – consisting of described fundamental principles, in accordance with the rules of the artes liberales – in Stevin’s view these arts are far from perfect.580 Certain mathematicians think there are numbers that are by nature absurd, irrational, irregular, inexplicable and immeasurable. For example, they do not consider a root number to be comparable (commensurabel) with a whole number and numbers incomparable with line segments. However, their incomparability is not the fault of their nature, it is caused by our lack of understanding the deeper relationships that exist between them. 581 The only thing they lack, according to Stevin, is a common measure to compare them and therefore these numbers are considered ‘irrational’.582 If one would know, Stevin argues, that a root number is the diagonal of a square number (a square, a recognized number with rational properties), one would also know that a root number has the same rational properties; after all, it is of the same substance. As an example, he gives the number ‘root 8’ which is part of the ‘number 8’. Stevin proves this by squaring the root: by the natural rule of multiplication with itself, 81 he proves that both ‘numbers’ share the same substance, and thus possess the same properties.583 In addition to numbers, Stevin’s drawings play a special role. In mechanics, he is the first to indicate the forces acting on an object by means of line segments.584 In other areas, such as fortress construction, land surveying, astronomy, army surveying and perspective, Stevin uses drawings as a geometric exposition, a 'demonstration Geometrique' (bp.2.18.1-2).585 In his architectural treatise he also presents many drawings. In some of them he explains his findings on pure water, smoke and the ‘heymelick’ (see 2.1.2 and 2.1.3.). In addition, he makes a whole series of architectural drawings. Besides the well-known town drawing, he also includes a drawing about enlarging a town (bp.2.12.2). Much less known are the drawing of the Escorial, of the Princely Court (bp.2.6.1-2) and the schematic drawings of the Greek and Roman houses. Other drawings are devoted to five blocks of burgher houses (bp.2.4.1-4, bp.2.5.1). Five drawings of the separate house have been included. A schematic floor plan in the text (bp.2.23.1), a combined and more detailed floor plan with façade view (bp.2.3.1). And finally, there are the two ‘perspective’ drawings of a wooden model (bp.2.16.1). However, the text shows that these two drawings were made by his son Hendrick.586 Hendrick reports that he found the model in the library of ‘Syn Hoogheyt’. Probably Prince Frederick Henry is meant here as Van den Heuvel notes.587 He succeeded his half-brother Prince Maurits, with whom Stevin was employed for many years, when he died in 1625. As already noted in the literature, the various drawings of Stevin’s houses are not coherent. The rectangular house drawing, the series of rectangular blocks (consisting of rectangular houses composed of squares) and the drawing of the town (consisting of square blocks) do not ‘fit’ together directly. Van den Heuvel has rightly noted several times that the relationship between these drawings is more abstract in nature.588 ‘Stevin chooses, first and foremost, representations that are reliable and can provide information. With the help of his architectural representations on the flat surface and in relief, the dimensions of the different parts of his buildings can be tested and his projection and scale can also be adapted to the specific architectural elements or issues they are intended to clarify. Despite this focus on practical usability, Stevin’s drawings are not primarily intended to dictate the form of his buildings in detail’. To come to the following conclusion: ‘In short, Stevin’s original drawings were not independent objects with which to reproduce the house or city that was assumed to be ideal. Stevin’s representation of architecture consisted of a series of illustrations to accompany texts, which were specially designed to illustrate the ideas and logical order underlying his buildings’.589 For Stevin, the drawing is primarily a mathematical form.590 In his work on statics (Beghinselen der Weeghconst) and hydrostatics (Beghinselen des Waterwichten) 82 he uses drawings to mathematically demonstrate the workings of gravity and water pressure, respectively. (bp.2.19.1-4).591 Stevin also speaks of a ‘grootheden maaksel’ [a making of quantities], a form that consists only of lines. 592 A mathematical form renounces the substance, it is a shape that is thought to be separate from matter: a point is without length, a line segment has no width and a plane no thickness. So, a mathematical drawing has no material quality and has no weight.593 For example, Stevin uses the term ‘vlakvat’ [flat vat] as a mathematical drawing of a body that can be distinguished from it (by its materiality).594 So in this mathematical drawing the lines won’t bend or break, and it can carry any weight.595 The peculiarity of the mathematical drawing is that it can explain natural causes, in this case of gravity and water pressure. Stevin will therefore use drawings to present true insights into the shape, properties and causes of a body’s regular working. ‘Want sulcx is t’recht Wisconstich bewys, t’voorghestelde duer d’oirsaken verclarende.’ [For that the proposed can be explained by the causes is rightly a mathematical proof.596 The term ‘wisconst’, which he introduces as a Dutch translation of ‘mathematics’, underscores his view that this ‘const’ [art] gives a complete certainty (‘gewisheid’, veracity): ‘... nadien de sekerheyt in haer bestaende, de ghewisheyt van d’ander Consten verre te bouen gaet, soo wordense billichlick daerbeneuen Wisconsten gheheeten’ [‘... because the certainty that exists in it far exceeds the certainty of the other Arts, that’s why it is reasonably called, the Art of Certain Knowledge.597 Stevin’s conception of drawing and mathematics is related to the provenance of his ideas both from the abstract geometric thought of Greek ‘meetkunde’ [art of measuring] (Euclid, around 300 B.C.) and from Arabic numbers and numerical arithmetic, ‘rekenkunde’ [art of counting]; he knew these from the Arabic and Latin transcripts circulating from the manuscript Algebra by Al-Khwarizmi, around 825 A.D.598 On the one hand this results in curious combinations of both, as where Stevin proposes the elevation of power of numbers [exponentiation, involution] in a geometric form, of which we still know the terminology. Squaring, for example, Stevin visually demonstrates the ‘square’ making of a number in the form of a drawn square. This procedure led to the third power of a number being visualized as a cube and higher powers being forced to stack cubes. On the other hand, the confrontation between working with numbers and line segments ultimately led to the analytical geometry to which René Descartes is credited and which is based on analogy between numbers and points on a line segment.599 A shift that is related to what is happening more generally in scientific thinking during this period. I will get back to this later on. For the moment, I confine myself to the proposition that a geometric demonstration for Stevin amounts to a visual presentation of the truth rather than a proof. In his treatise on fortification (De Stercktenbouwing), for example, Stevin includes a mathematical drawing which he describes as ‘volkomen sterkte’ [complete fortress], in which the advantages and disadvantages of the 83 environment (such as mountains and valleys, seas or marshes) are temporarily put between brackets.600 Although in practice it is often sufficient to make ‘al tastende’ drawings [by groping] (as in the case of a pentagon), making a mathematical drawing offers more certainty. 601 The complete fortress that Stevin constructs is based on the rules of the art of defense, rules that he derives from the enemy’s attack techniques at the time.602 Although he does not describe all the steps each time – which he considers superfluous – his instructions show that he makes the drawing with compasses and ruler. 603 Still, the mathematical drawing is not the only type Stevin uses in his work. Another type is the drawing with numbers. 604 Although numbers are less exact than line segments due to their discrete nature, they can come very close to the mathematical working of line segments. That is why Stevin calls drawings provided with numbers more advantageous than purely geometric shapes. They are more manageable in practice. Numbers not only confirm the mathematical certainty of the drawing, but they also clarify it. Stevin therefore recommends adding numbers, so that others also understand what is clear and obvious to the mathematician.605 A third and a fourth type explains Stevin in his Stercktenbouwing. If a fortified town is to be realized, something else than knowledge of the general rules is required. Then one must know how strong certain material objects are. One has to explain the properties, arrangements and circumstances of the different substances. Making a material shape in wood, wax or earth can be helpful. 606 Stevin calls the drawing of this form ‘de lichamelijke tekening’ [bodily drawing] or ‘platte lijfbeeldinghe’ [flat body image] (bp.2.20.1).607 Finally, there is the fourth type. This drawing is actually applied to the land. It shows great resemblance with the first two (paper) drawings. The difference lies in the circumstances one meets with the fourth type. 608 Whereas the first two drawings aim to note the principles mathematically in line and number, and the third explains material properties, the fourth drawing employs principles to benefit as many material properties as possible. After all, the real circumstances are always unforeseen and imperfect. The land shows unevenness, there are seas and swamps, rivers and mountains. In an actual fortress or town, one should use one’s knowledge to benefit as much as possible from the circumstances.609 Stevin reiterates this view in his architectural treatise: 610 Ghelyck de leering in crijchandel van het logeren, naerderen en Veltslach, daer elders breeder af geseyt is, bequamelick aenghevanghen wordt met voorbeelden op platte velden, om dat de form van dien eenvoudich sijnde, de leering daer op gegront, dienen can voor gemeene regel, uyt welcke getrocken wort, ‘t geene men tot sijn meeste voordeel doen mach op oneven landen met bergen, dalen, bossen, rivieren en marassen, diens formen van 84 oneyndelicke verscheydenheden sijn, alsoo soude ick oock om de selve reden de leeringh van het oirdenen der Steden bequamelick an te vangen, met voorbeelden op platte velden... [As with the teaching in military art of arranging the army camp, approach, and battle, about which has been written at greater length elsewhere, examples should be properly commenced on the flat fields, because that shape is simple, and the lesson founded on it may serve as a general rule from which it may be inferred what is most advantageous to do on irregular grounds with mountains, valleys, forests, rivers and marshes, of which there is an infinite variety of shapes, and so for the same reason I would properly start the teaching of ordering cities, with examples on flat fields]. Speaking of drawings, Stevin regularly refers to his mathematical work, such as Problemata Geometrica (1583) and Arithmétique (1585).611 The art of measuring and the art of counting each have their own rules. If you want to know more, Stevin advises to consult these writings. It is not his intention to explain these rules over and over again. He suffices with employing this mathematical knowledge. In his own words, he prefers to keep it short. Limiting himself to a few numbers and referring to the relevant knowledge in his mathematical writings, he continues his argument. Unfortunately, his architectural treatise lacks even such a reference to the mathematical fundament of his drawings. An inserted comment from his son Hendrick might explain that. He claims to have edited his father’s text about the order of the house in such a way that it can be understood without knowledge of (or love for) mathematics.612 For the remaining issues, Hendrick refers to the Huysbou where matters such as the actual drawing will still be discussed. 613 Nevertheless, Stevin’s house drawings can be explained. They themselves offer various clues – certainly in the light of Stevin’s general remarks. In the architectural treatise, for example, one recognizes different types of drawings and the most detailed house drawing is provided with a certain amount of numbers. In addition, Hendrick maintained sufficient comments in which Stevin explained his drawings of the town, blocks of houses and house. I will start with the drawing of the town and finish with the detailed drawing of the house. The drawing of the town has a didactic purpose for Stevin. He compares making a town to making an army camp.614 The components of an army camp must be placed correctly. It is best to practice this with flat and simple shapes in which the general rules are laid down (bp.2.21.1-3). In the town too, one must first appropriate a number of simple examples. In an example, he summarizes the principles to be pursued in general. Stevin brings this up not only with the fortress and with the town, but also with the Princely Court.615 In this way, the town is a pattern of lines, stripped of matter. It is a drawing in which the general rules of the town are noted. The question is what these general rules boil down to. 85 A first rule that must be followed when organizing a town relates to the street. The streets should be long, straight, parallel and the same width everywhere. 616 A disadvantage of many streets is that they make irregular lots. Especially with curved streets this is obvious. Whether the plots are placed parallel to each other along a curved street or each plot separately at the front perpendicular to the curved street, it always generates disordered chambers in the houses (bp.2.12.1).617 In the first case, the houses on the street side have sharp or blunt corners. In the second case, the houses at the back will be wider or narrower. But this flaw may as well be for straight streets. For instance, long straight streets in radially organized towns also generate disadvantageous lots with slanted corners.618 The result of streets like this is that chambers are generated in the houses that are unsuitable for placing square furniture such as tables, bed boxes and cupboards. Laet tot verclaring van dien AB in de eerste form een cromme straet wesen, vvaer in de erven onderscheyden sijn met rechte evewijdighe linien als CD, EF, GH: ‘t Welck soo sijnde, het voorhuys an straet commende, heeft d’een houck DCE plomp, en d’ander houck CEF scherp, van ongheschickte form onbequaem om daer in te stellen viercante tafels, betsteen, cassen en dierghelijcke. Maer by aldienmen de linien niet en treckt evewijdich, dan soo, dat de voorhuysen ande straet sijde twee evenhoucken crijgen, ghelijck in d’ander nevenstaende form, soo vallen sommighe erven en camers achter wijder, ettelicke achter nauwer dan vooren, ‘t welck oock onbequame formen sijn, sulcx datmen de rechte straten by ghemeene reghel voor best houden mach.619 [AB in the first form stands for a crooked street, in which the lots are distinguished by straight parallel lines such as CD, EF, GH: In that case the front house that touches the street has sometimes a plump angle DCE, sometimes a sharp one CEF, unsuitable shapes, impossible to place there square tables, bed boxes, cupboards and the like. But if one draws the lines not parallel, but in such a way that the front houses on the street side get two right angles, as in the other, juxtaposed form, then some lots and chambers at the back fall wider, some narrower, which also results in unsuitable forms, so that one must keep straight streets as a general rule for the best]. It is customary to see Stevin’s town drawing as made up of square modules. But that’s not quite right. What he wants to demonstrate with this drawing in the first place is the fact that a town requires straight, parallel and perpendicular intersecting streets (bp.2.13.1, bp.2.22.1). 620 Some other comments by Stevin confirm this. According to him, the expansion of the town should take place via ‘gestippelde’ [dotted’ lines or streets.621 The town must enact ‘keuren’ [laws] to prevent construction from crossing the drawn line: in other words, drawing lines has legal status in the first place. 622 The façades of the houses should be built strictly in the indicated straight line: ‘Als dat niemant hem vervordere te bouwen 86 over de gheteyckende of anghewesen linien op verbeurte van dat weerom af te breecken en te betale de breuck [boete] daer toeghestelt’.623 [So that nobody ventures to build across the drawn or indicated lines, on pain of having to demolish it again and pay a set fine]. By appointing officials, these offenders can be severely fined.624 Interference with the street pattern (and the façade height in relation to the plot width) was a matter for the municipality long before. They appointed line pullers and supervisors who oversaw whether new houses were lined up ‘by the eye’ with the municipality’s established building lines. Precisely this form of government intervention is the cause of the medieval town patterns and the organic harmony of the profile of the street façades.625 The square blocks so prominently present in Stevin’s drawing are therefore not an end in themselves. Although recognizable as squares, these squares do not provide an adequate explanation for the nature of the line pattern. On the contrary, these squares are the result of this first general rule. Stevin gives some measurements from which one can deduce what size he considers appropriate for a large town.626 He deduces his measurements from the depth of a long and narrow lot of 180 feet, a depth not uncommon in Holland. 627 If you place two lots backwards against each other, the distance between the streets is 360 feet.628 As an explanation he draws a block (P) in which the subdivision of this kind of lots is drawn (bp.2.13.1).629 The other sizes relate to this. The three town canals each have a width of 180 feet. 630 As street width he mentions 60 feet, of which in the middle 40 feet is meant for horses and wagons. The remaining 20 feet can be used to make a 10-foot gallery for pedestrians on either side.631 The housing blocks are then based on variations within this pattern of sizes. The smallest block is 180 feet by 240 feet. 632 However, these kinds of measurements do not reveal the true size of houses or ‘gestichten’ [institutions] in the town.633 An encompassing ‘block’ sometimes has an extensive content, including for instance the ‘hogeschool’ [college] or the ‘armhuis’ [poorhouse], which is independent from the square shape in which they are comprised: By het Hoogschool verstaen ic te gehooren de Stadtschool, oock de Schermschool en Schutterdoelen, daermen de crijchhandel leert, als schieten met handtroers, bussen, musquetten en grofgeschut, maer sonder hantboge of cruysbogen, die nu inden crijch geen gebruyck en hebben; Voort de Ruyterconst vervougende alsoo de leeringhen by malcander, sulcx dat dese alt samen een groot gesticht soude maken. In het Aermhuys soude ick by een vergaren al ‘t gheene in ander Steden tot verscheyden plaetsen veroirdent is, als Outmannenhuys, Sieckhuys, Lasarushuys, Blindelienhuys, Schamelwesenhuys, Gasthuys, Vondelinghuys, Outvrouwenhuys, Pesthuys, Pockhuys, Dulhuys, met dieder meer sijn; En over al de Regierders van welcke een gemeene Opsiender wesende, soo soude dit oock een geschickt groot gesticht connen valle.634 87 [The college includes the Municipal School, the Fencing School and the Burgher militia, where the military arts are taught, such as shooting with a rifle, muskets and heavy artillery, but without the handbows and crossbows that are no longer used in the present war; furthermore, the art of horse riding, and thus to place all the students together, and this forms a large building. In the Poorhouse I would bring together all that has been organized in other towns in different places, such as the old men's home, Hospital, Leprosy home, house for the blind, orphanage, foundling's home, old women's home, pest house, smallpox house, madhouse and the like. Of the board members, one is the general superintendent of this extensive institution]. This is in line with the second general rule. This concerns matters that Stevin considers suitable to bring to a town, although not all towns are entitled to do so.635 The vast majority of the town should consist of houses for burghers. In addition, Stevin lists a series of ‘gestichten’ [institutions] that a prosperous town should possess: town hall, prison, college, churches, poorhouse, fish and meat house, stock exchange, some markets, a princely court and some houses (intended as temporary lodgings) for foreign merchants.636 In his drawing of the town he assigns these buildings a location. Some buildings are indicated in full, others only with a letter that he explains in his text. For example, the letters (L, M, N, O) indicate houses for foreign merchants. Stevin places these indications of houses and buildings in the line pattern, in compartments specially cut out for this purpose (bp.2.13.1). By the way, there are some remarkable differences between the published drawings and those in the manuscript. In the manuscript all urban institutions are indicated by a letter. 637 This implies that the many squares in Stevin’s town drawing have two different meanings. On the one hand they indicate all the aspects Stevin considers necessary for a powerful town (ordinatio, the taxonomy of things), and on the other hand they show the relative position of those things in the whole (dispositio, arrangement of things). Stevin explains this with some examples. Because fresh goods have to be brought in daily, the most suitable places for markets are close to the water. In order for every burgher to have a church in his neighborhood, five churches are divided over the town drawing. For similar reasons, Stevin situates foreign merchants close to the stock exchange. And, of course, the best place for the town hall is in the middle and near the prison and the disciplinary house. 638 The ‘squares’ are thus on the one hand an expression of the classification of types of human beings, animals and things at the urban level. On the other hand, the mutual placement of the squares provides an appropriate proximity between the classified items. This distinction is already made by Vitruvius.639 Both principles belong to the basic principles of architecture to which Vitruvius, in addition to ‘ordinatio’ (the quantitative determination of the necessary parts) and ‘dispositio’ (the qualitative arrangement of these parts), attributes the various drawings (floor plan, façade and ‘perspective’) that constitute their concretization. ‘Eurythmia’ 88 and ‘symmetria’ denote the extent to which the rules of Nature have been implemented, ‘decorum’ is the appropriate and external appearance, and ‘distributio’ is the appropriate distribution of all ‘substances’ used in building (building material, money, utensils). 640 Like the ‘squares’ on the town map, the drawings of the Princely Court, the Escorial and the series of blocks of houses should not be regarded as independent entities with actual dimensions.641 These drawings are also intended as a vivid demonstration of some general rules. The lack of dimensions in the drawing of the Escorial – due to the fact that Stevin only had a copper engraving at his disposal – is therefore basically irrelevant. Stevin establishes two general ground rules for the block. Following these rules leads to an arrangement of burgher houses that is beneficial both internally and externally. 642 The first rule concerns the rule of ‘vry licht’ [free light], a rule that concerns the strategic position of a ‘lichtplaats’ or ‘lichthof’ [courtyard]. Applying this rule has three advantages. They have been mentioned before. Firstly, a correct arrangement of the courtyard in the block will result in daylight reaching all chambers (2.1.2.).643 Secondly, proper placement of blind walls prevents neighbors from casting irritating glances inside (2.1.3). 644 Thirdly, an internal placement of the courtyard generates a closed block of houses which reduces accessibility for thieves (2.1.3.). I will come back to the second line later (paragraph 2.2.1.). This rule derives from the principle of ‘lycksijdicheydt’ [congruence of both sides]. For the moment it is sufficient to see the rule in operation. The series of blocks obeys this rule both externally and internally: everything on one side we find on the other. Van den Heuvel summarizes this as ‘equilateral symmetry’ or ‘mirror symmetry’.645 Although from a technical point of view it is a correct summary of the operation, I will show in 2.2.1. that the technical operation is not the final goal for Stevin. Using the example of a ‘groot huis’ [extensive house], Stevin then explains how to combine the two rules (bp.2.5.2). To this end, he uses the term ‘vervouging’ [conjugation], that refers to a rule that allows for the orderly arrangement of courtyards and chambers into several appropriate ensembles. It is a term that more often appears in his architectural thinking, according to Beeckman’s notes.646 The procedure can be compared to grammatical inflection, which also involves a regular transformation of a general rule. 647 First, the rulegenerated house is square in shape and consists of 32 double chambers on each side (shaded squares in the drawing). The courtyards are unshaded. Stevin calculates that this extensive house, if properly arranged, has 25 large communal courtyards. In addition, there are 36 smaller ones (the size of one or two squares) to provide light in some chambers. If the latter courtyards were missing, twenty times two chambers and sixteen times four chambers would not receive any light.648 These rules can also be used to obtain smaller houses. Stevin mentions 89 houses in which not 5 by 5 courtyards, but for example 6 by 4, or 5 by 4 courtyards are correctly conjugated. Deur dese form hebben de 25 lichtplaetsen, die lijcksijdelick veroirdent sijn, is genoech te verstaen de gemeene reghel hoemen tot alle huysen, hoe groot die vvesen mochten, de lichtplaetse soo can veroirdenen, dat elcke camer haer vrylicht heeft, en int geheel met lijcksijdige gestalt: Oock sietmen de gemeene regel over minder huysen dan dit...649 [Through this form, which possesses 25 courtyards arranged congruently, the general rule is sufficiently clear how to organize the courtyards in all houses, regardless of their size, so that each chamber has its free light, and as a whole provides an equilateral shape. At the same time this general rule is also usable for smaller houses]. The series of five blocks is the result of the same conjugation of courtyards (bp.2.4.1-4, bp.2.5.1). Starting point is a rectangular block of 240 feet by 180 feet.650 This consists of eight houses, each of which has its own (unshaded) courtyard (bp.2.4.1).651 The four corner houses are identical. This also applies to the houses on the front and back and the houses on the left and right side of the block. All this in accordance with the rule of ‘lycksijdicheyt’.652 Using the corner house ABCDEF, Stevin explains the second rule. Chamber A receives free light from the street on two sides, chambers B and F both from the street and from the courtyard E, chamber C only from the street, chamber D only from courtyard E. For the four middle houses, Stevin discusses the two variants, namely GHIKL and MNOPQ. With this, Stevin demonstrates what a correct conjugation in this block is.653 Both rules make it possible – while retaining all the advantages – to realize buildings in different formats. Stevin mentions the Princely Court and the Escorial as examples in which both rules have been correctly applied. 654 In this way, shapes can be transformed without adverse consequences. Houses can be reduced or enlarged, and blocks can be extended. 655 By vertically adding a square to the two middle houses of the first block (Form 1), Form 2 is generated. By adding a square horizontally to the four corner houses, Form 3 is generated. Form 4 arises from Form 1, by adding a square horizontally and a double square vertically. Finally, Form 5 is a doubling of Form 3, but shows its own variation in its pattern. Internal rearrangement allows rows of houses on the long sides as well as two large mansions on the short sides of the block. 656 The two drawings of the house fit into this series (bp.2.23.1-2). The smallest drawing is included in the text. The second is not only larger and more detailed, but also linked to a façade drawing (bp.2.3.1). In both cases, the rules just mentioned appear to apply: the rule of free light (through an abundance of windows in the façades) and the rule of congruence (through an equal number of 90 chambers on one side and the other). The line pattern of these drawings is based on 5mathematical (immaterial) lines. 657 There are some anomalies, however. For example, the courtyard is missing and both house drawings do not consist of squares, but of rectangles of different sizes. Moreover, Stevin adds in his text some numbers to the drawing that do not belong in the series of sizes of town. drawing and block. The question is what Stevin is aiming at with these house drawings. Stevin writes that he is trying to determine the smallest form of a house in which life is comfortable: ‘Het voornemen wesende een huys te verordenen, int welcke ick neme ghenoech te sijn (...) Al ‘t welc men begeert vande cleenste form diet vallen can, mits datmen daer in bequamelick sijn gherief mach’.658 [The intention is to establish a house, in which I assume that everything one needs is sufficiently present, of the smallest form possible, provided one may be pleasant and comfortable in it]. The general dimensions he uses are not uncommon. On the basis of this drawing, further transformations can be made: one can add chambers or make the chambers larger.659 The size of the planes and their mutual arrangement are determined in the formal composition. The mathematical grounddrawing of the house, which is separate from matter, Stevin summarizes as a conjugation of ‘kamers’ of ‘percken’ [chambers or enclosures]. Unlike in the house block (where ‘squares’ served as a discrete means of distinguishing a ‘chamber’ from a courtyard’, with the aim of demonstrating the conjugation of the rule of ‘free light’), Stevin has a different goal in mind concerning the house drawing. The purpose here is the internal division and disposition of the chambers. But because this is a different scale level, more details are visible in the house drawing than on the block level. There is a different ‘order of magnitude’, as Stevin also noted when using different scale models of the perfect fortress. Mutatis mutandis it means that what in the drawing of the town (or the block of houses) would be ‘al te clen ende onsienlick soude vallen’[would be far too small and invisible], in the (equally large) house drawing it is possible‘die dinghen op haer mate groot genouch [can] cryghen’ [can show things at size and large enough].660 Thus, the (according to Stevin) indispensable parts for a house that played no role in the blocks, were incorporated into the most detailed house drawing: ‘steygers, schoorsteenen, portaelen, contoiren, heymelicken en dierghelijcke’, ‘Voorsael, Eetcamer, Slaepcamer, Keucken, en Vertreckcamer’, ‘schrijfpercken, cabinetkens, botelrie, morshoeck’, ‘turfbacken of rammeling hoecken’, ‘betsteen of cassen’ etcetera. For the ground floor it is sufficient, according to Stevin, to start from five demarcated sections. The floor above and the basement below have the same number of chambers.661 If you want to add chambers you divide them further, if you want the chambers bigger you leave out lines. In this way the lines of the ground drawing form a basic pattern in which the parts of the house are attuned to each other and to the whole. Stevin refers to the fourth chapter for good reason 91 with ‘Vande vervougingh der camers of percken en ander noodtlickheden die t’samen het heel Huys maken’. [From the conjugation of the chambers or enclosures and other necessities that together make the house as a whole].662 According to a remark made by Stevin, generating the shape and drawing the boundaries appears to precede the decision as to what use the chambers are suitable for: ‘De percken van een huys gheteyckent sijnde, soo rester, te overlegghen, tot wat ghebruyck men die bequamelick veroirdenen sal’ [Now that the enclosures of a house have been drawn, one must finally discuss to what use one will properly determine them].663 So, making the formal drawing is separate from the classification of things and people, which I discussed in section 2.1.3. Stevin mentions numbers in his text to indicate the sizes of some of the chambers. The ‘voorzaal’ [front hall] is ‘ontrent’ [about] 34 feet long and has a width of ‘ontrent’ [about] 17 feet. The other sizes he mentions are not very exact too.664 Of the four other chambers, he gives the measurements only approximate, namely 17 feet by 21 feet. Together this results in a shape consisting of a double square (17 x 34 feet) with a flat plane (21 x 34 feet) on both sides, giving a width of about 59 feet. This last size approximates the façade width that Stevin sets at 60 feet in his house drawing. In both house drawings we find a further division, which he does not explain in his description. In addition to the five ‘percken’, the small drawing also contains a central bar. The large drawing not only shows a further differentiation of this central bar, but also of the four chambers on either side of the front hall. The latter has remained unchanged in terms of dimensional ratio in the large drawing. Due to the lack of a clear explanation on Stevin’s part, and due to the excessive attention paid since Wittkower to mathematical rationality as the core of the clear Renaissance design method (bp.2.24.1-3), interpreting Stevin’s mathematical pattern is at first sight a somewhat precarious issue. But given that Stevin’s conception of numbers and lines fits into the long tradition of architectural thinking,665 given the fact that geometric and arithmetic operations are commonplace in the practice of building, and given that he himself has such pronounced views on the mathematical drawing and the use of numbers in it – it is obvious to examine the drawing from that angle. 666 This not only provides insight into the formal arrangement and compilation of the drawing, but also into the purpose of the house drawing and its place in Stevin’s early modern architectural knowledge system. After all, the numbers given by Stevin for the different chambers are not random. They are part of a series known as the Fibonacci series. Leonardo of Pisa (after whom – ‘belonging to the Bonnaci family’ – the series is named) described the series in his Liber Abaci (1202), a work in which the Hindu-Arabic (decimal) numerical system was applied in arithmetic and algebra. Since then, the series has been an integral part of mathematics and Stevin knows about it. 667 The series of 92 integers gives an approximation (an ‘infinite approach’ says Stevin) of a geometric ratio.668 Typical feature of the recurring sequence 1:1:2:3:5:8:13:21:34 is that each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers and that these two numbers always relate in the same way: the ratio approaches more and more accurately to 1.618. The relevant geometrical procedure has been known as the Golden Section since the nineteenth century. However, a connection between Stevin and the mythical Golden Ratio is not obvious, certainly not in architectural history. Since 1949, when Rudolf Wittkower published his Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism, this geometric procedure has had an ominous and at the same time mysterious reputation in the history of architecture. On one side are Wittkower and his followers who, because of its incommensurability, considered this relationship incompatible with the clear humanistic rationality of mathematical design.669 On the other hand, there are the many scholars, art historians and architects who, since the mid-nineteenth century, have put this relationship at the center of their holistic and esoteric theories about the wholeness of the universe. The Golden Ratio was seen by them as the symbol in which mathematical harmony and cosmological beauty fused into an all-explaining mythical form.670 This controversy is now considered outdated, at least within modern scientific history. 671 And this is because the controversy does little justice to both the place mathematics occupied in early modern Europe (and which has been overestimated),672 and to the world view at that time in which Nature, the divine and daily existence were related to one another in terms of natural philosophy (and which was underestimated).673 In the controversy, therefore, both issues have to a large extent been overshadowed by nineteenth- and twentiethcentury fascinations, respectively. I will come back to this at a later stage (Chapter 5). For the time being it is sufficient to assume that Stevin’s statements about drawing, line segment and number in his treatise on architecture (as well as his other remarks in it) are relevant and fit into a broader context. Stevin does not deal with the above-mentioned issue in his architectural treatise, but in the Third book of the Meetdaet under the title ‘Een gegeven rechte lini deur uyterste en middle reden te snyen’ [dividing a line into extreme and mean ratio].674 Thiswriting, included in Wisconstighe Ghedachtenissen (1605-8) and dedicated to Prince Maurits, is not a systematic textbook but is full of practical mathematical applications (bp.2.25.1)675 Stevin derives the description of the procedure from Euclid.676 He considers the Greek mathematician to be one of the most important scholars who still possessed knowledge of the once complete knowledge that Stevin assumed in his Wysentijt.677 In his Book VI, proposition XXX Euclid deals with the geometric division of a line segment into two parts, in such a way that the first relates to the second as the second relates to the whole. 678 In his Meetdaet Stevin continues on this path, although he indicates three 93 methods, a geometrician, an arithmetician and an algebraic. 679 There he writes about the division of a line into ‘extreme and middle ratio’ (bp.2.26.1-2). Two of the methods can explain the mathematical nature of Stevin’s house drawing. The geometric path can generate the line pattern and the arithmetic path can generate the numbers used by Stevin. The geometrical method, applied to the shape of the Voorzaal [front hall] (indicated by Stevin as a ‘double-square’, i.e. with a ratio of 1:2) comes down to the following (bp.2.27.1-3). Starting from the diagonal of the double-square, the long side of that double-square can be divided into ‘extreme and middle ratio’.680 That is to say, in two steps (using a compass or ruler) the long side is divided into two line segments that relate to each other in the same way as the largest relates to the side as a whole. Of course, one can do this in both directions. In this way you can determine two points on the long side. By making each of the newly found line segments into a square side, a rectangle is created whose subdivision roughly corresponds to the pattern of Stevin’s house drawing. Such a ‘gnomonic’ figure, already known to Euclid and Aristotle, has the property that new, related forms can emerge from it (bp.2.18.2). The ‘gnomon’ can thus be enlarged or reduced to infinity while maintaining the internal proportions.681 It turns out that also some smaller, harmonic flat planes in the house drawing can be deduced from the initial form and thus (in Stevin’s terms) are in ‘gheduerighe everedenheyt’ [permanent proportionality].682 The ‘middle bar’] that Stevin puts up in the two house drawings does not originate directly from this procedure. That could explain Stevin’s separate insertion. I want to be brief about the other two methods because they lead to the same result. The second method of Stevin’s division of planes follows an arithmetical path. The Fibonacci series includes the numbers 21 and 34. The number 17 (as a halving of 34) belongs to this family, just like any third number in the series can be halved.683 Besides 13, 8, and 5, the row of numbers also includes the number 4 (half of 8).684 Using these measurements, the same rhythmic pattern of horizontal and vertical lines appears, determining the main planes of Stevin’s detailed house drawing.685 For the algebraic method to derive the same ratio, Stevin refers to his Arithmetique (Probleme LXVIII).686 There he deals in ten pages with the problem of the ‘vierkantsvergelijking’ [quadratic equation] that has occupied many mathematicians in Europe since the sixteenth century. This is a comparison of the second degree with one unknown. In this procedure, originating from AlKhwarizmi, an abstract problem is visualized geometrically (hence the term). By making line segments ‘vierkant’ [kwadrateren, squaring] and replacing them with other patterns (composed of other quadrangles) with the same surface, one demonstrates the solution.687 Here again a property of the ‘gnomon’ is used.688 94 Stevin’s ground plan of the house is a mathematical form in which number and line segment are durably attuned to each other. The parts of the house relate to each other, but also to the whole and always in the same way. Using the knowledge of the natural, innate properties of numbers and quantities, the parts of a house can always be tuned to each other on the basis of ‘evenredigheid’ [proportionality], another of Stevin’s Dutch terms he invented. And this in any circumstance. If the line pattern changes (in case a house has to accommodate inhabitants with different characteristics and inclinations), it follows the rules of Nature. The enlargement and reduction of the planes and their mutual disposition that Stevin presents distinguishes itself from the ‘dimensionless representation’ in which precisely the dimensional ratio is lacking. 689 The gnomon is, in other words, a convenient visual collection of pertinent features. Stevin’s house drawing is thus independent of the whimsicality of matter. Now, a modern computer scientist will not be surprised by this conclusion. After all, the geometric processing described by Stevin and his arithmetic sequence of numbers are not spectacular. They are now standard mathematical knowledge.690 Undoubtedly Stevin’s ground plan can be generated with the help of the right calculation program with ‘one push of a button’. As was also possible with Palladio's ‘ideal villa’, of which the entire virtual Palladian system (of which Palladio itself would only have realized a fraction) could be uncovered by means of a computer program (bp.2.28.1-3).691 Current architectural theory even has a separate branch in which (with reference to Noam Chomsky and often developed under the auspices of institutes such as MIT) a generative grammar, the syntax and the logic of early modern architectural drawings are analyzed using information technology.692 Research into mathematical patterns in historical architectural drawings is indispensable for understanding the nature and interrelationship of forms.693 For the historical understanding of these drawings, for an understanding of their place in the then architectural knowledge system, however, a modern mathematical analysis falls short. Not only because it limits itself too much to a single level of signification, but above all because modern analysis tries to be more accurate than historical material is. 694 The aim of the early modern house drawing is not to be as exact as possible, a goal that can be ‘revealed’ by our modern techniques today. The vagueness in Stevin’s indications of numbers and line segments (‘omtrent’, about) indicates that he uses the mathematical patterns to arrange his home drawing ‘according to Nature’. It does not indicate an imperfect attempt to turn it into a mathematical ideal plan. A few years ago, Elkins introduced the analytical term ‘appropriate precision’ to focus on a similar issue (i.e. the supposed mathematical exactness of the Renaissance perspective). Instead of correcting the early modern vagueness (in drawing and painting) on the basis of alleged ideal constructions and then making large (philosophical) connections that have little to do with the mathematical 95 details (in drawing and painting), it is important to establish the degree of exactness between "geometric structures and expressive randomness" in the historical material.695 In Stevin’s view, the ratio of the drawing as a formal pattern is inextricably linked to the early modern view that Nature brings order. Not only the substances and the living beings obey her rules, but also the numbers and the line segments. The master builder must submit to these rules in all respects. That is why an early modern mathematical drawing (in which the properties of numbers and line segments are honored) is only accurate to a certain extent. In any case, less than many technicians, engineers and mathematicians today would want in a world that has become completely measurable in all its parts.696 This issue has shown how necessary it is that the architectural analysis is not limited to one layer. This raises the question of how the different layers of significance relate to each other in historical material. I will devote the second part of this chapter to answering this question. 96 2.2.1. Column, Congruence and Comfortable Appearance In the first part of this chapter, I have treated Stevin in a way that is quite unusual. Little attention is usually paid to what he writes about the substances, the things and the human beings in house and town. If it is mentioned at all, one often limits oneself to short summary remarks.697 In the history of architecture there is also little interest in his mathematical drawings of the house, despite the fact that Stevin personifies the new status of mathematics in Holland. He is regularly presented as a harbinger of the more scientific architecture that emerged in the Netherlands around 1625.698 The only aspect of the topics discussed so far that receives relatively much attention are Stevin’s civil engineering inventions.699 They are often seen as the key to his architectural thinking. For example, Van den Heuvel concludes: ‘He was concerned with the adverse effects of water from the micro-level of the toilet waste pipe to such major operations as purification of the water in urban canals. Conversely, Stevin also focused on collecting water for domestic use and he realized that water, when controlled, could contribute to the accessibility, prosperity and security of the town. Indeed, to a large extent, Stevin’s architectural theory appears to have been founded on water’.700 One sees in Stevin an announcement of scientific developments and a break with classical tradition. ‘Stevin was the first architectural theorist in the Netherlands to express fundamental criticism on vitruvianism. (...) Stevin’s remarks on this subject are controversial not only in the context of vitruvianism in the Netherlands, but also in the light of international architectural theory’.701 Thus Van den Heuvel considers Stevin’s work to be a scientific correction and addition to Vitruvius’ ideas about matter and construction. In his view, this also makes it understandable why Stevin had little sympathy for Vitruvius’ anthropomorphic aesthetic ideas about the classical columns.702 Vitruvius believed that the proportions of the columns had a natural origin and corresponded to a universal, divine beauty, analogous to the proportions of the perfect human figure.703 Stevin responded particularly to the many sixteenth-century books devoted to the classical columns such as those by Vredeman de Vries. From Cornelis Floris (master builder of the Antwerp Town Hall, 1561-6) to Lieven de Key and Hendrick de Keyser, flamboyant architecture with sumptuous curls was built in the Netherlands.704 Here Vitruvius’ ideas were applied in a hybrid way and as such were widely disseminated. 705 Stevin would have been the first to turn against traditional architectural theory, followed by Isaac Beeckman and Claude Perrault. 706 Van den Heuvel writes: ‘Where architectural theorists of antiquity and the Renaissance used the human figure as a starting point to rhetorically describe the perfect proportions of a symmetrical, ordered architecture as the spitting image of God’s creation’, Stevin put forward a new theory in which the authority of antiquity is seriously questioned. The architecture of a divine art that could only be achieved by 97 following the rules of Antiquity becomes a scientific issue that can be approached empirically. This is confirmed by the fact that in work by Stevin, and especially in work by Isaac Beeckman, one can find observations that Descartes would further develop into an entirely new system of natural philosophy. This system largely determined Perrault's thoughts on scientific issues, including architecture. 707 This portrait of Stevin as a critic of the classical architectural tradition does not come out of the blue. In his treatise one finds sufficient statements that clearly show his skepticism towards his predecessors.708 This applies especially to the subjects that have been considered the heart of classical architectural theory since Wittkowers Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism: on proportion and symmetry, beauty, the five columnar Orders and the column as an ornament. Stevin indeed criticizes the column as an ornament, the anthropomorphic columns consisting of male, female and virgin pillars and the concept of symmetry. Stevin’s rejection of tradition, however, is less unequivocal and massive than is usually suggested. This suggestion is often based on an isolated description of the subjects mentioned. That is why in this second part I will continue to approach Stevin’s architectural thinking consistently from the point of view of internal relations in his text. So, I will stay close to the primary source again. At the same time, in the next three paragraphs, I will see the matter more from above. In particular, the question is where Stevin differs from some other architectural theorists. So, there will be more attention for statements made by others, such as Vitruvius and Alberti, Serlio and Palladio. Apart from themes like symmetry and columns (paragraph 2.2.1.) I will return to his drawing in paragraph 2.2.2. In section 2.1.4. I was primarily concerned with the nature, properties and composition of Stevin’s drawing itself. Section 2.2.2. is about comparing its status with some other architectural drawings. What is the meaning of Stevin’s house drawing when we know that Serlio made about seventy drawings of a house, that Palladio publishes his realized designs of houses and villas and that house drawings are completely absent from Alberti and Vitruvius? Finally, in section 2.2.3. I will discuss Stevin’s view on theory and practice. Is Stevin an engineer, or is he a scientist, or are we asking the wrong questions? In order to assess the extent to which Stevin differs from Vitruvius and Alberti, Serlio and Palladio on these points, it is necessary to place their statements in the right context. While in the first part I already collected building blocks from Stevin’s architectural thinking, in this second part my attention will focus more on the connection between those building blocks and the related knowledge system. Stevin speaks at least twice about the tradition. First in his treatise on architecture, when he comes to the question of columns. Secondly, in his Wysentijt, when he talks about the state of science. At first sight, in both cases he uses a simple distinction between an old and a new era. In both cases he refers to the first period 98 as an ancient period or the time of the Ancients. In his architectural treatise he states that the ancient period around 400 or 500 AD was replaced by a new (modern) period, in which the ‘Gotten’ [Goths] ruled.709 In his Wysentijt, he says something similar, only the new period starts around the year 600 and he speaks about Barbarum Soeculum, the time of the laymen.710 According to Stevin, the barbarity that characterized this period came mainly from the side of the Christians. Agitated and oppressed by the pagan religion, they demolished, all that the Pagans had brought, especially literature and the liberal arts.711 T’welck sijn oirspronck nam doen de Christenen d’overhant creghen boven de Heydenen: Van welcke sy te vooren veel gheleden hebbende, en daer benevens de Heydensche Religie seer hatende, verbranden en vrenielden niet alleenelick alle boucken der Religie, mette ghene daer eenich vermaen van hare Goden in stont, maer oock der vrye consten d’een metten anderen, waer syse crijghen conden. Ten laetsen heeft dit een eynde ghenomen, sulcx datmen heel verkeert de verborghen overbleven Heydensche boucken, weerom in allen hocken ghesocht heeft, int licht ghebrocht, en met groote neersticheyt en cost doen drucken, niet alleen van vrye consten, maer oock hun Goden aengaende, sulcx dattet nu yder Cristen vry staet die in sijn ghedichten te aenroepen; In ghedichten der Christelicke Religie te vermenghen met veersen vande rammeling der Heydensche Goden, en die daer in seer ervaren sijn, worden daerom oock seer gheleert ghenoemt. [What began when the Christians gained the upper hand compared to the Pagans: by whom they suffered long, and since they hated the Pagan Religion, they not only burned and destroyed all the books of Religion, with the exhortation of their Gods contained therein, but also the free arts, wherever they could find them. At last, this came to an end, and the very hidden remaining Pagan books, were again sought in every corner, made public, and with great accuracy and expense printed, not only the free arts, but also books of their Gods, and so that now every Christian is free to invoke them in his poems; In poems of the Christian Religion mixed with verses of the chatter of the Pagan Gods, and those who are very experienced in this are therefore also called very learned]. After this ‘Christian’ period, a new era began between 1400 and 1450 in which antique-pagan literature and science came back into the light. 712 As far as Stevin is concerned, however, this appreciative interpretation of ancient knowledge does not apply to columns, which from that moment on also becomes fashionable again.713 In fact, Stevin makes a positive assessment of the ‘modern’ way in which the Goths used the columns. 714 This succession (antique/modern/antique), in which ‘modern’ for Stevin refers to an already closed period, is not necessarily in line with what other authors in the early modern period think. The appreciation of various periods in Western culture has undergone many shifts in the early modern period and appears to be more complex than our division into antique, medieval and (early) modern 99 culture. In the Renaissance, for example, ‘modern’ stood for the revival of the ancient culture, in contrast to the fruits of the ‘old’ culture (which followed the antiques).715 In the Northern Netherlands, Salomon de Bray (1631) connects ‘modern’ with the ‘hedendaagse maniere’ [contemporary way] of building by Hendrick de Keyser, as opposed to the barbaric way of the Goths.716 Philip Vingboons (1648) regards the northern peoples as barbarians who destroyed the ancient (southern) culture, but which has been reviving for a century. German architecture emerged at the same time but was not inspired by antiques and is called ‘modern’ by Vingboons.717 Samuel van Hoogstraten (1678) regards the Goths as savages who destroyed everything, but who in time became more civilized and brought architecture to great prosperity, albeit in a barbaric way.718 Finally, Willem Goeree (1681) contrasted the (‘modern’) Gothic architecture as barbaric architecture full of whimsicality, immoderateness and an excess of ornamentation with that of Antiquity.719 For Stevin, ancient knowledge is a source of great wisdom. In that respect he shares the idea of rebirth. But he does not have an undifferentiated picture of the old days. Both in the Wysentijt as in his architectural treatise he makes a difference between the Ancients before and after the Greeks. This distinction is also known to other authors.720 He considers the Greeks as heirs of an enormous amount of admirable wisdom of older date. 721 Particularly in Euclid’s work, but also in Arabic writings, he discovers signs that confirm the existence of the older, perfect wisdom. The Leiden Arabist Josephus Scaliger showed him books that confirmed this wisdom.722 In terms of architecture, too, Stevin has repeatedly shown his respect for very old master builders, i.e. before Vitruvius. 723 From them comes the double use of the columns as support and as ornament. Moreover, Stevin ascribed to the Ancients the architectural rule of natural ‘lycksijdicheydt’. He is more ambiguous about Vitruvius. On the one hand he has a high opinion given his many (although not always correct) references to Vitruvius’ De Architectura724. For Stevin, Vitruvius is the author who recorded and preserved the ancient architectural knowledge of the Greek and Roman house. As will be seen, Stevin draws several times from Vitruvius’ writings in support of his own conception of ‘lycksijdicheydt’. ‘Op dat’, he argues, ‘benevens voorgaende redenen, hemlien *Achtbaerheydt [Aucthoritas] my helpen mach tegen de gheene die myne boveschreven Lijcksijdighe oirdeningh, die int volghende oock gageslagen sal worden, voor ongegronde eyghensinnicheydt mochten beschuldigen’. [‘So that,’ he argues, ‘in addition to the aforementioned reasons, his authority [Aucthoritas] may help me against the one who will accuse my above-described congruent arrangement, which will also be observed in the following, of groundless stubbornness].725 On the other hand, he also criticizes the commentators (‘Vitruvius met syn Uytlegghers [Commentatoribus]’) who reedited his work.726 In the course of the 15th and 16th centuries, many translations 100 of Vitruvius’ work were indeed made, sometimes in the form of an excerpt, often in the form of a commentary. For example, the presentation of Vitruvius’ ideas in the work of Daniele Barbaro (also mentioned by Stevin) has almost been replaced by an interpretive commentary. 727 Stevin’s criticism on Vitruvius and his commentators focuses on the compulsiveness with which certain architectural rules are applied. In his view, such an application is not based on knowledge of the Ancients. As an example, he mentions the height of a chamber. As a guideline, the height is derived from the length/width ratio of that chamber. If one follows this rule too strictly, then chambers of different sizes will get unequal heights. According to Stevin, that’s not only ugly but also inconvenient.728 Datmen ymant vvil verbinden an hoochden der salen te moeten volgen langde en breede als inde Romeinsche salen gedaen vvert, niemant en isser an verbonden, Argumenta sumuntur ab incerta latitudine alarum & Tablini. Voorts een contoir 3 voeten breet soude moeten al te leech zijn, en dat ymant vvil seggen, dat een contoir van 3 voeten breet en 6 voeten hooch, een mishagelicke form soude vvesen, ‘t is opinie; De beste reden blijft in alle camers groot en cleen even hooch sonder dattet qualick staet. En alsmen hem daer vvil verbinden, soo sullen de bovesolderingen d’een hooger als d’ander commen, seer mishaechlick en ongerievigh. [That one wants to oblige someone to follow the length and width of the halls as was done in the Roman halls, nobody is obliged to do so, Argumenta sumuntur ab incerta latitudine alarum & Tablini. Furthermore, that a chamber of 3 feet wide should be too low, and that someone wants to say, that a chamber of 3 feet wide and 6 feet high, would be an unsatisfactory form, is only an opinion; The best reason remains in all chambers, large and small, to make them equally high without it looking bad. So, if one still wishes to commit oneself to this, then at the top of the chamber one attic will be higher than the other, which will be very displeasing and uncomfortable]. According to Stevin, similar misinterpretations of later times have not only affected the Greek term ‘symmetria’, but also explain the more recent abuse of the classical order of columns. As a result, much of the scientific architectural knowledge of ancient times have been lost. Stevin therefore indeed has some reasonable doubts about Vitruvius and in particular its recent interpreters. His criticism focuses on those who rely only on Vitruvius’ authority.729 Stevin’s argument is that he accepts an architectural rule only on the basis of wise judgement and not on the basis of authority. According to Stevin, he relies more on reason than on the opinion of reputable persons. Often such opinions are merely the result of the habit of imitating others, rather than a conception arising from consideration of fundamental principles.730 But he doesn’t 101 like the opposite either. That is, when scholars avoid borrowing knowledge from others, because they think that their prestige will diminish as a result. This is the reason why scholars often want to differ so compulsively from one another and hinder the acquisition of knowledge. Stevin uses similar arguments too in other precarious cases – such as in his defense of Copernicus on the basis of arguments.731 Against this background, he finds it a waste of time to go into the dimensions of the columns in detail. In this way he also defends himself against the reproach of inexperience with regard to the classical order of the columns or of a lack of knowledge or unfounded willfulness. 732 Maer alsoo hier geen beschryving der maten vande pylaren is, sommige sullen achten ‘t voornaemste deel der *huysbouvving daer in te gebreeken, beschuldigende mijn onervarenheyt, als niet connende na maken ‘t geen veel ander voorgedaen hebben: Dan om de vvaerheyt te seggen, ‘t verdriet dat ick soude scheppen, in daer me besich te zijn, soude de vreucht overvvegen, die ick vanden danck mocht vervvachten: VVant het overdencken vanden tijt die ick daer in voormael deur gebrocht hebbe, soude my noch vvee doen, ten vvare ick mijn selve toegave, daer deur geleert te hebben, dat de saeck in haer selve geen gront en heeft. [But as no description of the measures of the pillars is here included, which some think then lacks the principal part of the *house construction, they will accuse me of inexperience, to imitate something which many have already done; But to tell the truth, the grief it would bring, to be engaged in that, would exceed the joy I could expect from the thanks; For to think of all the time I have spent on that before, hurts me, were it not that there by I have learned that the matter is groundless]. When assessing the architectural rules of tradition, Stevin sees two possibilities. First of all, knowledge present in a rule can be grounded in Nature. Stevin gives painting as an example. For painters and sculptors Vitruvius’ knowledge of the proportions in the human body is very useful. 733 Knowledge of such natural rules can prevent the formation of ‘monsters’ [monsters]. The latter happens when human and animal parts are mixed together without natural size. A standpoint Stevin shares with other early modern writers.734 Even when the master possesses a pure hand of drawing, mixtures such as these indicate his lack of knowledge of Nature: ‘... hoevvel des VVerckmeesters suyver hant daer in blijcken can, soo isser vvenich const inden omtreck, van dingen die an geen seker natuerlicke maet en stant verbonden en zijn.’ [… although the accurate hand of the masters may be apparent from the work, there is little skill in the sketching of figures that are not attached to a certain natural size and existence].735 The same reasoning applies to architectural rules, as demonstrated by Alberti, for example. ‘For if these Things are reckoned defective and monstruous in Nature herself, what must we say of an 102 Architect that throws the Parts of his Structure into such improper Forms?’736 According to Stevin, rules that are based on a natural foundation will be accompanied by reliable knowledge. In this context, modern literature usually emphasizes ‘imitation’, the ‘copying’ of examples ‘from’ Nature (mimesis). As Van Eck has shown, on the other hand, that early modern authors aim at obeying the rules set by Nature.737 This is also the reason why Stevin can state that certain architectural rules are generally applicable (namely because of these rules are following Nature) and go beyond certain cultural customs.738 As an example he gives the construction of a roof. It is better, he says, to build a roof in the Greek way in the Netherlands too, than to follow a bad indigenous custom. This brings me to the second reason to follow an architectural rule from tradition. According to Stevin, this rule may be rooted in a prevailing custom or usage. It does not then rest on Nature, but on a cultural precept. Approvingly, he refers here to Vitruvius, who (following Aristotle) rightly referred to the power of habit as ‘the other nature’ (also known as ‘second nature’).739 Stevin distinguishes three types of habits. 1. There are conventions to which one should commit oneself, such as the clothing regulations in a region. If this rule is not followed in the region, the confusion will be immense.740 2. There are habits that are common but should be avoided. Like getting drunk every day. 741 3. Finally, there are customs where everyone is free to decide whether to join or not. One has to decide for oneself whether to pour one'’ drink in a stone jug, a tin can or a glass bottle.742 In Stevin’s view, an architectural rule is only generally valid if it is grounded in Nature. If the rule is grounded in an appropriate habit, it has great validity, but it is not necessarily applicable in other regions. Stevin mentions the wearing of a Turkish turban by the Dutch as an example of an inappropriate (‘onburgelick’, uncivilized) case.743 Armed with these two criteria, Stevin then makes his judgement on column arrangement and symmetry. With regard to the first point, Stevin examined two aspects: the use of the column and the dimensions of the column. The Ancients made use of two properties of the column. On the one hand they used it as a structural element, on the other hand as a decoration. 744 Stevin’s further explanation shows that he considers bearing burdens (such as in galleries, roofs and vaults) and spanning wide chambers (especially in churches or other large buildings) as the actual purpose of the pillar (bp.2.29.2). This use of pillars gives a building great comfort.745 The other use – as an ornament – stems from the delight that the columns, with their beautiful materials and their artful forms, evoke in human beings. In ancient times, in addition to their constructive abilities, pillars were used to decorate façades (such as frieze and pediment), gates, portals, walls and all manner of household items.746 The Goths – according to Stevin – replaced this double use of the ancient column with the ‘modern’ use. Both aspects are here independent of each other.747 103 Pillars were only used constructively in this architecture. The decoration was developed separately and was labor-intensive and costly.748 As examples he mentions the churches of Strasbourg and Antwerp with their magnificent towers (bp.2.29.1).749 After the period of the Goths, the ancient order of the columns came into vogue again, but this time almost exclusively as decoration. Stevin believes that this use goes against Nature in four ways. First, the column is used so prominently as an ornament that it becomes a burden rather than it carries burdens. If there is insufficient adhesion, the ornaments of the building will break off.750 In addition, the placement of columns often makes the chambers smaller than intended.751 Secondly, columns protruding from the façade prevent the lateral view from the adjoining windows.752 Thirdly, these types of decorated façades are not very durable. Ornaments are more subject to weather influences than other building components and they often collect moss, ‘groente’ [moss] or ‘vuiligheid’ [dirt].753 As a fourth argument, Stevin points to the expense of laboriously cut columns. In several places he states that this is at the expense of the building as a whole because one can only spend one’s money once. The solidity leads underneath, the inside of the house remains unfinished and sometimes the construction cannot even be completed. 754 Applying ornaments when drawing a house is also inexpedient and time-consuming, because drawings often have to be changed.755 In his opinion, the use of other parts of the classic façade also goes against the natural course of events. In this way he opposes the use of a certain type of tympanum that is open from above. After all, the real purpose of a tympanum is to stop the rain and protect the façade. Using such an open tympanum would be the same, says Stevin, as someone cutting off the top of his hat, which serves as protection from the rain.756 Daer sijnder die *clocken [Timpanen, Frontispicen, Cymatien] maken int middel open, daer het regenvvater deur valt, niet doende den dienst daermense om behoort te maken, sulcx datse meer schynen haer oirspronck genomen te hebben, van de gene die niet en vviste tot vvat eynde haer gebruyck streckten, dan met reden soo veroirdent te vvesen. Soo ymant de cruyn sijns hoet uyt sne, sulcx dattet daer deur op syn hooft regende, de gemeene man vvetende vvaer toe hoeyen dienen, souder me gecken, gelijck sy oock soude met de geene die de cruynen van tympanen open maken, als sy vvisten vvat eynde die veroirdent zijn. [There are those who make *cornices [Timpani, entablature, cornices] open in the middle, so that the rainwater falls through them, so that these parts of the building do not do what they are made for, whereby it seems that they have their origin in those who did not know to what purpose their use should serve, so that they are not made with reason. If someone cutoff the crown of his hat, so that it rained on his head thereby, the common man, who does know what hats are for, would make fun of that, as he would also - if he knew to what 104 purpose the tympanum was made - in case someone opened the crown of tympanums.] For the same reason, Stevin thinks it is nonsense to place adornments (such as acroteria) on top of the roof with its far protruding water moldings and tympanum: ‘Alsoo het cieraet des gevels vereyscht beschermt te vvesen tegen den regen, soo vvort tot dien cynde de bovenste vvaterlijste of clocke verst uytstekende gemaeckt, dienende als voor eygen dack des gevels mettet cieraet datter in is; maer boven dit dack noch cieraet te stellen, dat van geen ander dack beschermt en is ‘t gaet tegen de regel’ [Since the ornament of the façades demands that it should afford protection from the rain, let the upper cornice or bell project the furthest for this purpose, and thus serve as a roof of its own for the façade with its ornament; but to place above this roof another ornament, which is protected by no other roof, goes against the rule].757 Finally, the use of ‘waterlijsten’ [cornices] indoors is just as much against the natural reason: because it doesn’t rain in chambers, there is no need for cornices.758 Apart from the fact that the use of pillars as decoration is contrary to the rules of Nature, there is also a lack of conventional fundament for it. Karyatids, for example, give the building less certainty over time. This is because karyatids are imitations of peoples enslaved. If fortune returns, these figures will be the first to be destroyed. 759 In addition to his criticism of the inappropriate use of the pillar as an ornament, Stevin objects to its dimensions. He particularly discusses the three Greek species (species Stevin translates as ‘afcomst’ [lineage], ‘nakomelingen’ [offspring])760 that have been used since Vitruvius. He considers the distinction between a male (Doric), a female (Ionic) and a virgin (Corinthian) column to be debatable (bp.2.30.1, bp.2.31.1-3). Stevin does take over the anecdote of Callimachus from which the origin of the capital of the Corinthian column (namely by an acanthus) is traditionally explained.761 The proportions Vitruvius mentions are too simple and not grounded in the sizes that Nature provides for man, woman and virgin.762 Moreover, it is not a custom that was generally applied. First of all, Stevin points to Vitruvius’ own statement that later generations have adjusted the proportions mentioned.763 Secondly, the ancient remains show that the Ancients themselves did not obey the regulations.764 Thirdly, new inventions are added daily, proving that the sizes and shapes of the columns are infinite.765 From the Renaissance onwards, column books appeared, consisting almost entirely of pictures of columns, their sizes and details. Furthermore, the number of species grows to five over time. In addition to Doric, Ionian, Corinthian and a Tuscan column, there is the composite order. 766 De Sagredo (1526) allows another Spanish ‘baluster column’ to emerge from this, and De L'Orme (1567) a typical French column.767 A century later (in 1671), Louis XIV was still tormented by an ardent craving for a French column of his own, according to Samuel van Hoogstraten.768 Stevin’s opposition to this ‘overgrowth’ rests on the lack of 105 natural reason in the dimensions of the columns. That is why he considers it superfluous to include the details of this in his writing.769 Let alone see it as an architectural rule to which one must always obey, as some mistakenly believe. 770 But more than that, his criticism focuses on the power of visual shapes to multiply and the vexation they impose on human beings with their ‘versierde dwang’ [ornamental compulsion]. Indeed, imagination is an infinite quality that makes everyone think of new things every day. It is better to derive the treatment of substances from Nature, for she is an inexhaustible source of certainty. ... vvant elck bedenckt dagelicx nieuvve dingen, vvelcke alsoose int oneyndelick strecken, en niemant en verbinden, om die na te maken, geen seker bepaelde namen en behouven: Te meer dat hy die hem immers begeert te oeffenen, *stof [Materiam] genoech vint (al leefden hy oock duysent jaren) die uyter natuer sekerheyt heeft, sonder syn tijt te verliesen, en hem selve te quellen met verzierde dvvanck, vvelckemen beneven de reden oock metter daet bevint, soo vvel voormael als nu, alleman niet te connen verbinden.771 [... for everyone invents new things daily, which, because they stretch into the infinite, obliges no one to imitate these things, and certainly not to give them certain names: all the more so because whoever nevertheless wishes to practice, will find sufficient material [even if he lived a thousand years] that from Nature offers certainty, and that therefore without wasting his time and vexing himself with ornamented compulsion, which, in addition to this reason, one cannot indeed, both in the past and in the present, oblige]. In short, as an ornament, the columns have no natural or conventional ground, according to Stevin. He considers the ‘pilarig sieraad’ [pillar ornament] to be a compulsive thing, hindrance to convenience and an inappropriate way to spend the available money.772 The judgement that a structure without such columns is defective is itself defective, he believes.773 Instead of columns or other ornaments, the most suitable decoration of the house comes down to a simple flat façade with equal stones. The protruding ‘waterlijst’ [cornice] and the ‘kijkvenster’ [oriel] are permitted due to their protective properties.774 The money is better spent on decorations that do not cause nuisance. 775 In short: Stevin’s criticism of the column is not so much the Gothic use of the pillar (as a bearer), but its dangerous, decorative, inconsequential and money-consuming antique use (as ornament). ‘Als van de twee maer een mach wesen, t’Gerief wort voor het moy gepresen’. [If of the two only one can be chosen, then convenience is praised above beauty].776 However, Stevin knows from experience that it is impossible to prohibit building owners from using columns as ornaments. 777 Too often he has noticed that human beings spend all their money on entertaining ornaments and take for granted the inconvenience it causes.778 That is why, is his conclusion, it is best to leave the application of the pillar regulation free. 779 106 Stevin does not link this austerity to a moralistic-religious argument as is the case in England (in favor of Protestantism) and Spain (in favor of Catholicism of the Counter-Reformation). In England, for example, Shute (1563) and later Wotton (1624) reject the decorative qualities of the columns (the Corinthian, but also the composite order) as a form that originated in Catholic Italy. The Elizabethan interpretation is both Protestant and aristocratic. ‘The English writertranslators of treatises can be seen to have aimed to establish a “temperate classicism”, comprising neither an architecture without Order (that is, astylar) nor a licentious architecture retaining the Orders but in a mixed or abused form. It would surely have been perfectly natural for the more Puritan-minded reformers to have identified such abuse of Vitruvian rules (that is, Mannerism) with the Catholic religion. But it has been seen that in England moral licentiousness could be expressed by staying within the bounds of the five Orders, that is without recourse to the grotesque Vitruvian licentiousness of the columns created by Dieterlin or Sambin’.780 In Spain, on the other hand, a sober classical style was considered Catholic, in strict distinction to the pagan decorative architecture. 781 In that sense, things were less sharp in Holland. Vingboons (1648), on the other hand, has no objection to praising the renewed flowering of architecture in Rome, ‘welcke Stad, naer dat de Pausen haer Stoel daer vast gestelt hebben, en sy soo machtich sijn geworden, wederom in uytsteeckentheyt van gebouwen heeft toegenomen’ [which Town, after the Popes were seated there, became so powerful that it saw another increase in their excellent buildings].782 The above places the seventeenth-century criticism by Carel van Mander, Constantijn Huygens and Samuel van Hoogstraten on the whimsical ornamentation in a different light.783 The criticism is not a classicist attack on the Gothic as modern authors assume.784 The aim of the early modern criticism is to purify the pillar from its antique use as ‘sieraad’ [ornament].785 In this sense Van Mander’s vision on the antique ornament rhymes with that of Stevin. This also explains the sober execution of columns that later ‘classicists’ such as Van Campen and Vingboons advocated. It was not until the second half of the seventeenth century that Vingboons and Huygens associated the problematic aspect of the antique column with ‘Duits’ [German] or ‘gotisch’ [Gothic]. In this way – as will be shown in Chapter 4 – certain ideas of Vasari (1550-1568) are taken up again and the now founded French Académie gains more influence on architectural thinking in Holland. 786 Like Alberti, Stevin considers the ornament to be an addition to the building; it does not determine the arrangement of the building as a whole.787 Rather, this arrangement – ‘vvant met oirdening verstaetmen der deelen eens gestichts t’saemenschikking’ [because with ordening one understands the arrangement of the parts of a building] – relies on ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ [‘gelijkzijdigheid’ literally translated as equilateral] a concept that plays a central role in Stevin’s 107 architectural thinking.788 Dijksterhuis (1943) equated Stevin’s term ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ with that ‘which is called symmetry nowadays’.789 Recently, Van den Heuvel has further interpreted the term in a modern-technical sense as equilateral or mirror symmetry.790 He refers to mirroring around a central axis.791 Ottenheym follows him in this when he remarks about Stevin’s ‘symmetry’conception: ‘Simon Stevin proposed in his Huysbou that this term of Vitruvius should not be understood as an overall coherence of proportions (referred to by him as ‘saemmaticheyt’), but merely as mirror symmetry, for which he introduced his own Dutch term: ‘lijcksijdicheydt’.792 Resulting in an explanation of Stevin’s symmetrical compositions of city, house and block. Although Stevin’s definition of ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ allows for such an interpretation, not only does the scope of Stevin’s concept fall short, but also, but more importantly, so does its purpose. Stevin understands by lijcksijdicheydt’ the similarity of the right and left parts of a body, both in shape, in size and in figure: ‘Lijckzijdicheydt is der rechter en slijncker deelen eens lichaems overeencommingh in form grootheydt ende ghestalt. (...), dat de deelen haerder rechter sijde evengroot, lijckvormich en lijckstatich sijn met die der slijncker’. [Lijckzijdicheydt refers to the correspondence of the right and left parts of a body, in form, in size and in stature (...) so that the parts of the right side are equal in size, similar in shape and homologous to those of the left side].793 He emphatically distinguishes the term from the Greek concept of ‘symmetria’ as interpreted by Vitruvius, but especially by his commentators.794 By means of the term ‘symmetry’ they have associated the proportions of a human body with the proportions of a building.795 This connection may have two meanings, both of which Stevin, according to his comments, considers to be pointless. First, the rule of symmetry can point to an analogy between human bodies and building structures. Because the human body is well ordered, this should also apply to a building structure.796 But that’s what Stevin calls a ‘drogreden’ [fallacy].797 This is nothing more than the statement that ‘in order to arrange a building properly, one must arrange it properly’. From this rhetorical rule alone, however correct it may be, no lessons can be drawn for architecture.798 In the second meaning of ‘symmetry’, the analogy between human body parts and the parts of a building is reduced to an anthropomorphic interpretation of architecture. In itself, Stevin considers this view (i.e. that there is a relationship between the size of the human foot and that of the head, and the rest of the body) correct and a useful principle for painters and sculptors. For architecture, on the other hand, he rejects this reduction: Maer ghemerct sulcke Onlycksiidige deelen van menschen, geen gemeenschap en hebben met deelen van gestichten, ja dat d’ander gediertens voeten en hoofden met menschen 108 voeten en hoofden niet evredinich en syn, soo en dient dit tot geen regel, om in ‘t oirdenen van ghebou ons na te rechten.799 [But having noticed that such unequal parts of human beings, are not related to parts of buildings, yea, that the feet and heads of other animals are not proportionate to feet and heads of human beings, this cannot serve as a rule to guide us in the making of a building]. All this sheds an illuminating light on the misconception that has existed since Wittkower, concerning the ‘anthropomorphic’ architecture of the Renaissance. Wittkower considers the human proportion doctrine (described by Alberti in De Statua) to be a literal guide, in that architecture must also have ‘human’ proportions.800 The ‘analogy’ between a building and human being is that the architectural forms are derived from the human body (as a microcosm in which the harmonic proportions of the divine universe are captured). 801 This ‘anthropomorphic’ interpretation is present in many Renaissance architectural treatises. Countless times, the circle and square with the integrated human body described by Vitruvius have been visualized and human proportions recur in buildings, cities and fortresses 802 Daniele Barbaro has worked this out ‘in extremis’, but Francesco di Giorgio, Cesariano, Leonardo da Vinci and Filarete also take the human body and its proportions as models. It would be the measure by which a building, a town and even the cosmos as a whole is known (bp.2.32.13).803 On that basis Wittkower (and many with him) considered this anthropomorphic architecture to be the essence of Renaissance ‘humanist’ architecture.804 ‘This simple picture seemed to reveal a deep and fundamental truth about man and the world, and its meaning can hardly be overestimated. This picture dominated the fantasy of Renaissance architects’.805 Although this analogy is indeed demonstrable in early modern thinking, it has been misinterpreted as identity: ‘architecture’ is like ‘man’. But looking at Alberti’s (and Stevin’s) statements, one notices that they follow only an analogous line of reasoning: just as one has to take into account the proportions in a human body, so too should one account for them a building structure. In Alberti’s words: And as Parts whereof those Forms consist, are Lines, Angles, Extension, and the like, it is certainly true, that there can be no Error or Deformity more absurd and shocking, than the mixing together either Angles or Lines, or Superficies which are not in Number, Size and Situation equal to each other, and which are not blended together with the greatest Care and Accuracy. And indeed, who can avoid blaming a man extremely, that without being forced to it by any Manner of Necessity, draws his Wall crooked and askew, winding this way and that like a Worm crawling upon the Ground, without any Rule or Method, with one Side 109 long, and another short, without any quality of Angles, or the least Connection with Regard to each other.806 Although Stevin rejects the later interpretation of the Greek term, the actual meaning of ‘symmetry’ (translated by him as ‘saem-matigheid’) comes very close to the characteristics he attributes to his concept of ‘lijcksijdicheydt’.807 For so he argues, if the Ancients from far before Vitruvius had used the term ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ (instead of ‘saem-matigheid’), many misunderstandings could have been avoided.808 He considers the term ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ to be less open to misinterpretation. The concept is more appropriate as an indication of the case at hand. For this reason, he expects that ‘lijcksijdicheydt’as a scientific term will come into circulation.809 Stevin describes several properties of ‘lijcksijdicheydt’.810 It concerns the correspondence of the right and left parts of a body. 811 As Van den Heuvel rightly pointed out, Alberti also uses this left-right symmetry.812 In fact, the same applies to Vitruvius, Serlio and Palladio. 813 Stevin, however, adds another four properties that broaden the significance of ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ and thus give a different twist to the classical and early modern views of the architectural theorists mentioned. First of all, Stevin emphasizes not so much the position of the left and right part in relation to the axis, but the qualities and properties of both parts. In several places he talks about their size, their shape, their appearance, their mutual place, the angle they make and their value. 814 He treats all parts as special bodies.815 Instead of parts that occupy a subordinate position in relation to the body as a whole (or in relation to the axis that mirrors them), he takes them as separately shaped bodies with their own characteristics. Therefore, there is ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ only when two bodies coincide on all the points mentioned. He repeats several times that they must be equal in size and shape, value and provenance. The bodies must be similar in stature, each other's equal. Thus defined, for Stevin, an equilateral arrangement is primarily a qualitative arrangement pattern based on the classification of visible forms and physical properties.816 In Stevin’s terms, lijcksijdicheydt’ does not only concern the correct placement of two bodies, it concerns the rule that bodies must be congruent two by two in all their formal characteristics and qualities. And that brings me to Stevin’s second addition. In Nature he sees ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ [understood as congruence] at work in all its complexity and reasonableness. He points to horses and fish in which the rule works. 817 A note by Isaac Beeckman shows that he also gives examples of birds and crawling animals.818 The examples from Nature are no coincidence. On the contrary, they are examples in which the natural rule is known. This is the fundament on which he bases his architectural rule of ‘lijcksijdicheydt’. It is precisely in the bodies of animals and human beings that Nature has implanted this rule almost without exception.819 Only in the case of certain fish, such as flatfish and sole that have an 110 uneven head, Nature has foreseen otherwise. 820 The natural congruence manifests itself in principle in all parts of animal bodies and just as much in a double as in a single part.821 To explain, Stevin discusses the arrangement of the human face in detail. The single members (nose, mouth and chin) are placed in the middle of the face. The paired members, such as eyes, eyebrows, jaws and ears, have the property that they are each the same size and shape, have the same material quality and are placed equally far from the center. This rule turns out to work down to the smallest details. So, the nose is kind of single. But Nature makes sure that the two nostrils in everything are in the right place. 822 Als onder anderen de Lichaemen der ghedierten in welcke het de natuer soo voorsien heeft, dat de deelen haerder rechter sijde evengroot, lijckformich en lijckstatich sijn met die der slijncker, en de leden van diens soorte sy maer een en hebben, die staen ordentelijck in ‘t middel, tusschen beyde: By voorbeelt, des menschen eenige neus, mont, kin kommen int middel des aensichts, maer de parige als ogen, wijnbrauewen, caken, oiren, die sijn met malcander evegroot, lijckformich oock vande middeldeelen evewijt en gelijcker gestalt. Maer somen de selve middeldeelen wil aensien voor besonder lichamen, men vint noch in yder de boveschreven gedaenten, als de eenige neus heeft haer tweelijckstandige neusgaten en soo voorts met d’andere. Dese eyghenschap is in alle ghedierten, vande grootste totte cleynste soo gemeenen reghel, datmen’t voor *Uytneming mach houden, daermen ergens ‘t verkeerde bevint, als dat botten, tongen ende eenige andere platvisschen onlijcksijdighe hoofden hebben. [Nature has so provided that in the Bodies of animals, the parts of its right side are of equal size, of a similar form, and homologous, with those of the left, and the parts of which they have only one, these stand orderly between the two: For example, in man the single nose, mouth, chin comes in the middle of the face, but the couples such as eyes, eyebrows, jaws, ears which are mutually equal in size, of a similar form, and equally distant from the middle and of a similar stature. But if we want to consider the parts in the middle as separate bodies, one finds the same in the above parts, like the single nose which has two equal nostrils and the same is true for the other single parts. This characteristic is so common in all animals, from the largest to the smallest, that one may take it for an exception if one finds the opposite somewhere, as in flounder, soles, and some other flatfish that have unequal heads]. The notion of animal congruence as a rule of Nature is very old. In agreement, Stevin quotes an architectural rule from well before Vitruvius stating that the building should be like an animal. A similar formulation is also given by Alberti.823 If you want to make a suitable building structure, you have to follow Nature’s rules.824 If there is no congruence in an animal or a building structure, it results in an ugly, deformed body – even if each part is individually well-formed. Monstrous are bodies in which the paired parts are not equally high or equally low 111 or do not have the same shape among themselves. After all, monsters come from the combination of human and animal body parts.825 Stevin sees the correctness of the congruence as a natural rule confirmed in old and renowned buildings. The Greek and Roman houses show that this rule should be emulated. Stevin draws attention several times to the care with which the Greeks (and Romans) have observed this congruency.826 This applies not only to the façades, but also to the internal arrangement of the chambers: the same chambers are placed on one side as well as on the other.827 A good example is Diocletian’s bathhouse. Serlio criticized this building structure as an unsuitable form because it was not symmetrical in all directions. Stevin refutes the criticism by pointing out that the parts obey the architectural rule of congruency two by two.828 Congruency is therefore not a fabrication of himself (he argues), but a concept with respectable authority.829 Then the third and fourth characteristics of congruency. It is a rule that affects all parts when changes are made. The enlargement of a house, of a block of houses and also the expansion of the town will not affect either the internal or the external orderly arrangement. 830 It is a rule without coercion, because it respects the value of the parts, their interrelationships and their place in the whole. Finally, Nature (or the ‘Schepper’ [Maker] says Stevin) has provided the rule of congruence with a fourth aspect.831 A body that possesses the quality of congruence arouses a delight in human beings.832 Behaaglijk aanzien’ [pleasing appearance] of a building structure, of animal and human bodies, Stevin understands as a natural ability. But for Stevin, there is no intrinsic beauty of an object (which only comes to the fore from the French Académie). 833 ‘Schoon’ [beauty] and ‘mooi’ [pretty] are terms that appear only once in Stevin’s writing, for example as a counterpart to ugliness.834 Congruence (understood as ordering by size, species and shape) is, in his view, a quality that naturally pleases human beings.835 In other words: ‘behagen’ [delight, pleasure] comes from a natural, innate judgment.836 Stevin here presents a point of view that corresponds to what Alberti, for example, argues when he writes about congruity: The Business and Office of Congruity is to put together Members differing from each other in their Natures, in such a Manner, that they may conspire to form a beautiful Whole: So that whenever such a Composition offers itself to the Mind, either by the Conveyance of the Sight, Hearing, or any of the other Senses, we immediately perceive this Congruity (...) nor does this Congruity arise so much from the Body in which it is found, or any of its Members, as from itself, and from Nature, so that its true Seat is in the Mind and in Reason.837 This is in contrast to vermaak’ [enjoyable transformation] (or ‘vernoegen’ [satisfaction]), that Stevin mentions in the use of decorative columns.838 112 According to him, this enjoyable transformation is not implanted, but a temporary state of mind. He speaks in this of opinion or faulty judgment. 839 Thus, for Stevin (and this is also true of Alberti, Vitruvius, and Dürer), congruity is not an independent phenomenon (or concept) that exists separately from Nature and separately from Reason.840 The congruity or concinnitas is, as Van Eck put it a few years ago ‘not a fleeting aspect, but a quality, inherently present in the things we call beautiful. Correspondingly, our judgements on beauty are not matters of fancy [smaak] or caprice [eigenzinnigheid], but of a reasoning faculty that is innate. Therefore, we react immediately to the smallest trace of excellence in the forms or figures of a building. This excellence consists of three things: number (numerus), outline (finitio) and position (collocatio). But these are not sufficient; from their combination and connection there arises a larger quantity, in which ‘beauty shines full face’; this is concinnitas, which can be translated, as we saw, as ‘beauty based on skillful and elegant connection of the parts’.841 If congruence is lacking in a particular form or arrangement, then, irrespective of the possible capacity of a master builder or the costliness of the materials used, there is uneasiness, unattractiveness and unpleasantness..842 If there is a lack of pleasure in the congruity, then there is an imperfection in Nature. 843 For example, some human beings take pleasure in the landscape disorder of mountains and valleys, fields, forests and rivers.844 These human beings are endowed by Nature with a flaw, just as there are human beings with a flawed voice. Despite their great intellect, the latter cannot sing well. However, human beings who, due to a natural defect, do not take pleasure in congruent shapes would do better not to become a master builder. That is why Stevin considers it right to warn these people immediately, ‘metten eersten te waerschouwen, dat sy haren tyt niet en verliesen met hemlien in handel van bouconstige oirdening te oeffenen’ [that they will not lose their time practicing in the business of building arrangement].845 All this shows that Stevin’s architectural rules with regard to columns and congruity imply his respect for the rules of Nature. It is up to the architecture to follow these rules, as his treatise shows time and again. A conceptual attitude that is not foreign to others in early modern times either and in which the order of Nature can be seen both in the mathematical rules and in the material properties. Van Eck confirms that when she writes about Alberti’s architectural thinking: ‘... the unity of opposing and varying qualities referred to as concinnitas is made possible because the maker acts according to a logically prior plan or concept of the whole, by which all the parts and the relations between these and the whole are regulated and determined. That is, concinnitas should be interpreted as the result of Aristotelian teleology, rather than of mathematical proportioning, possibly based on a Platonic metaphysics of beauty'’846 113 Stevin’s term ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ appears several times in Dutch architectural thinking, although it has become less established than his term ‘evenredigheid’ [proportion].847 Huygens mentions the term once untranslated in his Domus, further written in Latin: ‘Eodum anno equile extructum, gelycksydigh, sed non accuratis membris, ut postea indicabitur’.848 In a poem dedicated to his house, the same term returns again and – given the context – with the same natural philosophical connotations as those of Stevin: Het Schoon-Aensienelyck-Eenpaerighe G’lijckzydigh Is uijt des Menschen Beeld van lidt tot lidt gehaelt: Dat daer aen niet gelijckt, is tegen Reden strijdigh, En wat daer tegenstrijdt, is meesterlyck gedwaelt.849 [The Beautiful, Visible, Equal Congruence has been taken out of the picture of man, member by member; that which is not equal in it, is contrary to reason, and that which is contrary, is a masterly error]. Goeree mentions the term, like almost everything Stevin discusses, several times.850 The term seems to work through in the use of similar formulations by De Bray, Vingboons and Danckerts when they speak of ‘getal’ [number], ‘maat’ [measure] and ‘de regels van de natuurlijke orde’ [the rules of the natural order].851 For example, De Bray (1631), after speaking of ‘de juiste maat, vorm, plaats en aantal’ [the right size, shape, place and number], writes about ancient architecture from the Hebrews:852 In alle dese wercken en is het niet al slechtelijcken toegegaen, ghelijck ‘t gemeen gevoelenis, dat alle eerste vonden onvolkomen zijn; maer het is seker, dat de selve zijn ghedaen met een volkomen wetenschap, en spiegelingh, met klare kennisse, van de ware Even-redenheden, en verdeelinghe der leden en deelen van ‘t gheheel. [In all these works things have not gone too badly, as the general feeling is, that all first findings are imperfect; but it is certain that these have been done with perfect science, with reflection, with clear knowledge of the true proportions and division of the members and parts in the whole]. So, there are continuities (and shifts) in the tradition of architectural thinking, but they are different from what was assumed until now. Since Wittkower, architectural history, also in case of the Dutch seventeenth century, has drawn the line between the ‘aesthetic-philosophical foundations of the antiquities and the Italian humanists of the 15th and 16th centuries’ and the ‘mathematical principles of divine harmony’.853 The scientific and exact, mathematics-based design could 114 thus be linked to a harmonious and divine world view of which the proportioned human body is the center. ‘The classical ideal of beauty was contained in the simple numerical proportions and man, seen as the highest form of Creation, was for Vitruvius the most important example of this at’, Ottenheym argued recently.854 In Holland this ideal would be represented by Huygens. ‘The Vitruvian analogy between good architecture and the human figure is frequently present in Huygens’ work’ according to Ottenheym.855 In the meantime, the view that mathematical, proportional thinking is at the heart of Renaissance architectural thinking has been questioned from various sides. According to Van Eck and others, the ‘exclusive concentration on theories of proportion’ must be ‘drastically relativized’.856 Instead, she makes a distinction between three forms of architectural theory in which thinking about architecture is linked in various ways to the making of architectural drawings: ‘the learned humanist treatise’, 'the handbook for disegno’ and ‘architectural theory in terms of Aristotelian views on knowledge’.857 Not only the place of ‘mathematics’ in early modern architectural thought deserves reconsideration, but also the rhetorical aspects or the way in which the Greek legacy, managed by Byzantine scholars, found its way into Italian Renaissance thinking. This brings me back to Van den Heuvel’s study of Stevin’s architectural theory and his treatment of symmetry and beauty. He interpreted Stevin’s term ‘lijcksydicheydt’ as ‘mirror symmetry’, by which he brushed aside qualitative properties in favor of a quantitative and accurate technical operation. 858 In this 'corrective' analysis, Van den Heuvel overvalues some of Stevin’s remarks about ‘lijcksydicheyt’ in order to explain them to the scientific core of his architectural actions.859 Elkins’ statement about the Renaissance painter using geometric operations applies mutatis mutandis to the early modern architect: ‘The difficulty is not to increase precision – assuming we still possess the patience that the Renaissance artist had – but to know where to look for precision: it is not often the case that an entire painting has uniform accuracy, as a computer-generated perspective has and as our conventional analyses would lead us to expect. (...) We often operate under the assumption of uniform accuracy, whereas the Renaissance methods were selective, partial, and uneven’.860 The early modern use of mathematics is wrongly held by Van den Heuvel, in accordance with the assumption since Wittkower, for the objective, scientific and accurate measurability that has been pursued since the nineteenth-century Polytechnic School and that has only been realized in practice with the computer applications.861 In a similar way, Van den Heuvel regards the terms ‘behagen’ [delight, pleasure] and ‘vermaak’ [enjoyable transformation] as a preliminary reflection of the separation between an Absolute and a Relative Beauty that Claude Perrault would later formulate in the seventeenth century. 862 The different types of ‘beauty’ mentioned by Perrault rely on a distinction that has long existed in 115 architectural thought. However, from the second half of the seventeenth century onwards, the omen sign under which it is thought is another. And with that, the historical signification of the distinction also changes. For such a separation between ‘Absolute’ and ‘Relative’ beauty can only exist when Reason turns against Nature and catches her on inconsistencies. As Tzonis shows, Perrault questions the authority of ‘Nature’ by reasoning.863 With Stevin and other early modern architectural theorists, however, natural reason is primarily a fruit of, and therefore implied in, Nature.864 Nature generates the rules of thought, congruity and ‘behagen’ [innate delight, pleasure]. Het ‘vermaak’ [enjoyable transformation] is just ‘opinion’ and belongs in this natural order to another level. In the early modern period, it is not so much a question of a great transition from a divine rhetorical-mathematical control system with a classical ideal of beauty based on ‘inescapable rules enclosed in nature’,865 to a scientific-empirical ‘trial and error’ method, resulting in ‘acceptable averages’ as the best rule.866 Instead of two mutually exclusive conceptual universes (‘divine’ versus ‘scientific’), the matter is more complicated. Both systems are indisputably linked by classical, Aristotelian natural philosophy. In the early modern period, it appears to be more about a multiple (and continuing from the ancient period on) transformation of that classical natural philosophical knowledge system. This epistemological transformation continues unabated in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.867 In this conceptual universe, the natural and divine order, rhetoric, attention to empirical details, mathematics and reason-based rules or arguments always play a role (but not always the same). The attitude towards the European genealogy of the architectural knowledge system seems to be strongly related to a larger issue that will frequently arise in the course of this book: the question from which theoretical perspective researchers approach historical material. From a Platonic point of view, in which the material only serves as a ‘steppingstone’ to real (metaphysical) insight of the underlying idea, or from an Aristotelian attitude where the truth lies in the visible patterns that the material forms.868 With this in mind, I touched on two topics of the following sections: first, the status of house drawing within architectural knowledge as a whole; second, Stevin’s view on the relationship between ‘theory’ and ‘practice’. 116 2.2.2. The Perfect House Drawing as a Memory System I concluded the previous section with the conclusion that Stevin is in the middle of tradition. This applies both to the elements he deals with and to the connections he makes between them. On the one hand, it is a more dynamic tradition in which architectural knowledge is not passed on in fixed packages. As an institutional practice, architectural thinking is flexible and needs to be redefined over and over again.869 On the other hand, the tradition is also more diffuse than has been assumed since Wittkower, because different accents have been put in place, which draw their own traces. Thus, the anthropomorphic and more Platonic interpretation of Filarete and Barbaro differs from the Aristotelian emphasis of Alberti, Serlio and Palladio. Given the many elements that have been present in architectural thinking since Vitruvius, new combinations appear time and again. Yates, for example, pointed out that in England Vitruvius’ writing was absorbed into sixteenth and seventeenth-century occult thinking.870 Both dynamism and diffusion persisted in Holland during the seventeenth century. The anthropomorphic ‘pilaren’ [pillars] criticized by Stevin are still present in writings on architecture, such as those by De Bray, Huygens and Goeree. Moreover, in a different context, Stevin also thinks in anthropomorphic terms. Thus, he writes with regard to the roof: ‘Het dack is soo voornamelicken deel des geheels, dat gelijck een lichaem sonder hooft, geen mensch en can vvesen, alsoo vergaring van stoffen sonder dack geen huys. Ende gelijckmen gemeenlick segt, alst hooft svveert soo svveeren al de leden, alsoo oock vvanneer het dack ondicht is, de rest’ [So, the roof is a major part of the whole, which like a body without a head, cannot be a human being, so a gathering of materials without a roof is not a house. And as it is generally said, if the head swears then all the members swear, so if the roof is not closed, that also applies to the rest].871 At the same time, contemporary architectural treatises come very close to Stevin’s views on knowledge, wisdom and mathematics in certain respects. 872 Constantijn Huygens is one of the authors whose writings Domus (1639) and Hofwijck (1653) show the conceptual swirls of architectural thought. Influenced by various books, Huygens does what Henry Wotton (1624) and Inigo Jones (c. 1650) do in England.873 In today’s architectural history, these authors, who knew each other, are first and foremost known as straightforward promoters of the new Italian classicism. Inigo Jones ‘forms a link (...) in that learned, humanist and essentially Platonic tradition which springs from Leon Battista Alberti’.874 Huygens is ‘the great promoter of this new architecture in the Republic’.875 But the writings of these authors do not consist only of the set of architectural views summarized by Wittkower (clear proportions, symmetry, columns, musical harmony, beauty, platonic micro and macro cosmos). On the contrary, they also talk about wind direction, sun location, building materials, choosing a suitable building location, the conveniences in the house, water and smoke, in short, all the 117 material properties that Stevin also mentions. However, because of the eagerness with which they absorb everything of existing architectural theory, they function more than Stevin as ‘cultural intermediaries’.876 Such intermediaries ensure a transfer of cultural knowledge to other circuits. In this case Huygens brings in the kaleidoscopic collection of architectural conceptions from the tradition almost without selection, comments, makes translations and circulates it among the elite through letters, diary entries and publications. Huygens is in this architectural field, as in the many others fields in which he moves, a kind of cultural omnivore who is careful not to speak out in favor of one view or another.877 An attitude that in the case of Inigo Jones was appreciated (‘all-round development of personality’, ‘uomo universalis’),878 while Huygens was rather called ‘ambiguous’ or ‘half-hearted’.879 For example, when Huygens (at least for us) combines incompatible views on the natural sciences, such as alchemy and astrology, without problems. This incompatibility does, however, explain the different receptions Huygens’ work has received. On the one hand, literary history has underlined his erudite, aristocratically refined but traditional taste. On the other hand, (art) historians have pointed to Huygens’ links with circuits in which technological development and visual experimentation were held in high esteem and have brought his modern attitude to the fore. 880 From a cultural-historical point of view, it is precisely the conceptual combinations and the choices made on the basis of this unselected offer that are interesting.881 The addition of, for example, biblical issues by De Bray (as also happens with Vingboons and Goeree) confirms a new interwovenness of, and not a break with, old subjects.882 De Bray mixes his reference to Bible sites, for example, with anthropomorphic pictures such as those of Filarete. 883 He calls ‘Bouwkunst’ [the Art of Building] ‘een seer vruchtbarige voort-brengster en moeder’, from which ‘alle gestichten en gebouwen int gemeen (...) zijn voort ghekomen, en als van de selve gebaert hen oorspronck hebben’ and all this ‘geteelt’ with the help of ‘verscheyde Vaders’ (master builders).[‘a very fertile progenitor and mother’, from which ‘all the establishments and buildings in common (...) have come forth, and which have themselves given birth to them, and so have their origin in them’ and all this ‘bred’ with the help of ‘several Fathers [master builders].884 Such a heterogeneous mixture challenges the cultural-historical investigation of architectural thinking. Rigid layouts in particular – De Bray, who is known as someone who understands architecture ‘as a science with fixed laws and founded on proportion and harmony’ – raise questions.885 In this section I want to again pull some threads in the tissue to see what else is moving. The drawing of the house once again plays an important role. But unlike in 2.1.4., where I discussed the properties of the drawing, it is now about the place of the house drawing within the architectural knowledge as a whole. I’ll address three issues. Firstly, the question of what is considered to be part of the field of 118 architectural theory and what attention has been devoted to the house within it. In many treatises the making of the ‘primal hut’ is seen as the mythical beginning of building (bp.2.31.4-6).886 At the same time, many architectural discourses are taken up by things that concern everything but the house. Secondly, I discuss the relationship between text and drawing in the architectural treatise. From the middle of the fifteenth century, the place of illustrations, including the house drawing, became more important. That brings me to the third issue, namely the significance of these shifts for the status of Stevin’s house drawing as a memory system. The beginning and the end of this cultural-historical panorama is thus again determined by Stevin’s architectural treatise, but in the meantime some old acquaintances also turn up. On the one hand Vitruvius and Alberti, Serlio and Palladio, on the other Dutch authors such as De Bray, Vingboons and Goeree. En passant I will give on the basis of literature the fate of house and house drawing in a few other European architectural treatises. I will explicitly limit myself to the texts. I will not comment on any (social) factors that may have led to a growing interest in the house. Or as Van Eck notes: ‘... it is doubtful whether the historical genesis of De re aedificatoria is really germane to an understanding of its structure. In analyzing the structure, we have to deal with what has been given to us’.887 Stevin refers several times in his posthumously published architectural treatise to a more comprehensive writing by his hand about architecture, De Huysbou [The House building].888 However, this work has never appeared.889 In the fragments by his son Hendrik entitled Onderscheyt vande oirdening der Steden [On the Layout of Towns] this emphasis on the house has disappeared. Better than from this title, Stevin’s attention to the house is reflected in the number of pages he spends on this subject. Apart from the pages about the block (pp. 24-30) most of the Byvouch der Stedenoirdening: Vande oordening der delen eens hvis Met 't gheene daer ancleeft [Appendix on the layout of towns. On the arrangement of parts of the house with all that goes with it] (pp. 40-128) is devoted to matters that directly affect the house.890 Stevin apparently attaches great value to the house as a subject of architecture, although this has only been dealt with sideways in architectural-historical research so far. 891 In this respect he distinguishes himself from most of the other architectural treatises he mentions. Unlike the themes already discussed (the substances, the weather, the soil, the classification of human beings and animals, the rules of drawing), ‘the house’ often plays a modest role in architectural treatises. The tracts of Vitruvius, Alberti, Serlio and Palladio act, as the title of their work suggests, primarily ‘on architecture’ or ‘on buildings’.892 The field described as ‘the art of building’ is not always the same in size. This is due to the fact that there is no solid system of concepts. The terms used by Vitruvius are less systematic than was hoped. A lot of research has been done into 119 the history of its conceptual apparatus, but the conclusion is that it is not based on a consistent body of knowledge. Furthermore, it should not be forgotten that the various writings have different purposes each time. Thus Vitruvius dedicates his work to Emperor Augustus (allegedly, to acquire building orders). 893 Alberti wrote his treatise not for architects but at the request of the Lionello d’Este of Ferrara, who wanted a contemporary, humanist commentary on Vitruvius. 894 Palladio published his treatise in a circle of scholars such as Giangiorgio Trissino (1478-1550) and Daniele Barbaro (1513-1570), but demonstrated his architectural ideas through his own buildings.895 Serlio dedicated his third book (on antique buildings) to King Francis I of France, but his books as a whole are more of a handbook than an architectural theory treatise.896 The Dutch situation is different in that the architectural writings of De Bray (1631), Vingboons (1648 and 1674), Stevin (1649) and Goeree (1681) are invariably dedicated to mayors or aldermen of Amsterdam.897 A third cause of the vicissitudes lies in the fact that certain parts started to lead their own lives in the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth century. This applies in particular to the classical orders of columns, which takes shape, for example, in the work of Vignola (1507-1573), but is also treated as an independent subject north of the Alps. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, separate editions appeared in Germany and the Netherlands. Partly they are excerpts (such as by Hans Blum (1555), Wendel Dieterlin (1598) and the editions by C. Danckertsz.).898 In the first place, they serve as example books. Below it will become clear that this is related to a different appreciation (and a more prominent place) of the drawing. According to the various authors, which subjects does architecture now deal with? At Vitruvius, the arrangement of the columns is an integral part of the architecture. He discusses the theme of temples in Book III and IV. In addition, according to Vitruvius, architecture deals with the tasks of an architect, the building materials and the town (including knowledge of military arts and fortified walls). Book V is about public buildings (forum, basilica, gallery, theatre, thermal baths and harbor). Book VII deals with wall and floor decorations (with a defense of true-to-nature paintings). Book VIII is about water, Book IX about clockworks (in which he discusses the galaxy and unfolds a cosmology) and in Book X he explains the working of all kinds of machines (construction tools, clockworks but also civil and military machines) as part of the order that nature brings.899 Only Book VI is dedicated to the individual house of the burgher, in which not only the country house but also the town house occupies a prominent place. As an extension of this, he deals with the Greek and Roman house. The art of building is therefore, in terms of subjects, at its broadest. If we place Alberti’s work next to it, it turns out that he partly deals with other subjects. Separate chapters about machines and galaxies have disappeared. The 120 subject of Book X, on the other hand, is new and deals with defects in buildings. Van Eck pointed out that several authors were unable to place this chapter. As a result, it has been interpreted as ‘afterthoughts’ (Krautheimer) or as a concluding chapter (Kruft). Starting from a structural analysis, Van Eck considers it an ‘appropriate’ chapter: ‘... De re aedificatoria turns out to be a unity, based on one analytical scheme (that of definition, division, and consideration of causes and effects) and executed consistently. (...) it gives Book X a clear and intelligible position in the entire structure instead of dismissing it as an afterthought or a catchall’.900 Alberti speaks more extensively about the ornament, while also recapturing other matters (building materials, construction, tasks of the architect). But his ten books are constructed differently, which has consequences for his presentation of ‘architectural subjects’. Van Eck recently demonstrated that Alberti does not derive the structure of De re aedificatoria from Vitruvius as has been thought so far.901 I will return to this issue in section 2.2.3. For the time being, I am merely pointing out that although it is a recurring theme incessantly and between the lines, Alberti pays most attention to the house in Books V and IX. In Serlio’s case, the collection of architectural subjects appears to have shrunk.902 He published five books in which he mentions some common subjects but enlarges them. Book I is devoted to geometry, Book II to perspective, Book III to antique buildings, Book IV to the ordination of columns and in Book V Serlio discusses temples. A separate sixth book, known only as a manuscript, is entirely dedicated to the house and was published several decades ago under the title Different Dwellings from the Meanest Hovel to the Most Ornate Palace.903 Two copies of this manuscript are known, the Avery manuscript and the Munich manuscript. In manuscript form they have circulated and have been very influential. The more than seventy folio sheets (mainly with floor plans, façades and cross-sections) are based on the one hand on ‘social stratification’ (houses for craftsmen, burghers, nobility and prince), and on the other hand on a distinction between country and town houses. These are global examples without exact scale and size, proposals that can be adjusted and filled in by clients and from which the architect could draw. Finally, Palladio, which in addition to topics such as public buildings in the town (Book III: streets and bridges, squares and basilicas) and temples (Book IV) discusses the properties of the house especially in the first two books. Book I deals with the building materials, the column and its proportions. In Book II, in addition to designs of the Roman and Greek houses, he mainly presents his own town houses and villas.904 Since Wittkower, Palladio’s villas have been discussed in particular. Not only his villas that have been realized and can actually be 121 visited, but also villas that can be inferred from the underlying, ‘virtual system’ that Wittkower set up in 1949.905 So, the field of architecture gradually shrinks. The order of the columns continues to occupy a prominent place, while antique buildings are attracting more attention. In addition, there are writings in which the house plays little or no role. I think of work by De l’Orme (1567) and Wotton (1624).906 This process has been interpreted in modern architectural history as a greater focus on the aesthetic and mathematical components of Renaissance architectural theory. Such an interpretation, however, obscures the fact that many of the often less spectacular Vitruvian topics (building materials, the nature of the inhabitants, findings, climate, soil conditions, etc.) remained part of architectural thought well into the seventeenth century (this is apparent not only from Stevin’s work, but also that of Charles Den Beste (1599) and Willem Goeree).907 Moreover, this makes it easy to overlook the greater attention paid to the house as an architectural object in architectural history. The increased interest is confirmed in other architectural treatises published from the fifteenth century onwards. This began in Italy and spread throughout Europe in the course of the sixteenth century, although not in a uniform manner. In his Trattato di architettura, written in dialogue, Filarete (who worked between 1445 and 1465) distinguishes between different types of houses. There are aristocratic palaces and houses for burghers, craftsmen and the poor. 908 Architettura civile e militare by Francesco di Giorgio Martini (1439-1501), also includes a section on house building. In his second book he develops a house typology with houses for farmers, craftsmen, scholars, merchants and nobility (bp.2.33.1).909 Even Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519), who plays only a limited role in architectural theory, is known to have studied the house. His comments focus on supply of food, disposal of waste and the presence of light in the house.910 Pietro Cataneo (c. 1510-1569) and Vinzenzo Scamozzi (1548-1616) gave the house and especially its drawings a more prominent place.911 They distinguish the individual house as an architectural object from public and sacred buildings. All of these structures – the palace of a tyrant or monarch (a subject that appears in many treatises), 912 the mansion and the house of a merchant or artisan – show in size and prestige the social stratification of the time. 913 In France, where Serlio wrote his Book VI on houses around 1550 (bp.2.33.2), this is continued in the work Livre d’architecture (1559) by Jacques Androuet du Cerceau, in which he follows Serlio’s example with his presentation of ‘des modèles d’habitation pour gens de “petit, moyen et grand états”’ [models of housing for persons in “small, medium and large state”]. (bp.2.34.3).914 But also in Maniere de bien bastir povr tovtes sortes de personnes (1623) by Pierre Le Muet (bp.2.34.5), of which Blunt remarks: ‘The first part is a strictly practical guide to an architect or a patron planning to build a house. Le Muet takes thirteen 122 different sites and supplies full sets of drawings – a plan of each floor and elevations of the street front and the façades on the court. In some cases, he gives several plans for a single site, in one case (the ninth site) going up to five variants, to which he adds a sixth in the second part’.915 In the Netherlands, the Architectura (1577) by Hans Vredeman de Vries, Pieter Paul Rubens’ Pallazzi di Genova (1622-6), and Philips Vingboons’ Afbeelsels der voornaemste gebouwvven (1648 and 1674) were published. Nicolaus Goldmann, a private lecturer in mathematics and architecture in Leiden between 1629 and 1665, also studied housing. 916 Finally, Willem Goeree spends the second half of D’Algemeene bouwkunde (1681) on ‘Huisbouw’[House building].917 ‘It concerns (...)’, Van den Heuvel summarizes his views, ‘qualities or rather minimum requirements in the field of climate control, the traffic system, the light supply and smoke extraction which should guarantee sufficient dwelling comfort. (...) On the basis of these general preconditions Goeree gradually proceeded to lay out the house in the best way for its various occupants, or as he himself called it’: “de verdeeling en schikking ter gebruijck” [the distribution and arrangement for use], which was largely in keeping with that of the medieval house in a city like Amsterdam’.918 The situation in the German-speaking area (where both Vitruvius’ and Alberti’s work has been translated) initially differs greatly from this. Sixteenthcentury German writings on architecture barely mention house building. 919 Albrecht Dürer is an exception. In his Ettliche unterrichtung, zur befestigung der Stett, Schloss und flecken (1527) he drew blocks of houses for burghers in a town consisting of rows of standard floor plans. He writes about the housing of artisans, nobility and soldiers, as conform the tradition of the ‘città ideale’. He provides mansions with internal light and external galleries. This was customary in Germany, Switzerland and Italy, but also bears resemblance to Stevin’s work.920 It was not until around 1640 that Joseph Furttenbach presented some burgher and noble houses ‘nach der Teutschen Landesart geformirt’ [formed after the German nature of the country] in his Architectvra Privata. das is: Gründliche Beschreibung / Neben conterfetischer Vorstellunung/ inn wat Form vnd Manier/ ein gar Irregular, Burgerlichees Wohn=Haus... erbawet (bp.2.34.8). Followed in 1688 by Daniel Harttmann with his Burgerliche Wohnungs Baw=Kunst.921 Both works are oriented towards French views. Something similar can be seen in England. Apart from the early, practical attention to the house in treatises on health around 1540, the treatises on architecture focus on other subjects, such as the writings of Boorde, Compendyous Regyment, or Dyetary of Helth (c. 1542).922 This also applies to The First and Chief Groundes of Architecture by John Shute (1563), and to the excerpt by John Dee of Vitruvius (1563).923 Sir Henry Wotton’s The Elements of Architecture (1624) is a special adaptation of issues raised by Vitruvius, Alberti, De Lórme and Palladio, but also by Aristotle, Vasari and 123 Dürer. He treats the English house in terms that are sometimes very similar to those of Stevin.924 Thus, there are wide variations in interest in the house, but the question is how this interest relates to familiarity with the architectural theory tradition. In fact, in medieval Europe, many manuscripts of Vitruvius’ writings were present in libraries and monasteries – including twelve in England.925 In 1967, according to Krinsky, 78 copies were still traceable. 926 Since the discovery of Vitruvius’ work in the monastic library of St. Gallen (1414-5) by two Florentines, Poggio Bracciolini and Cenzio Rustico, the spread of vitruvianism has increased even further. An enormous production of architectural tracts came on stream. 927 Vitruvius’ work was translated, commented on and published in the form of excerpts. No longer in Latin but in the various national languages. Book printing makes an important contribution to this. Vitruvius’ writing is illustrated from the fifteenth century onwards. The visualizations of the architectural knowledge have among other things resulted in a transformation of that knowledge. This is clear from the fate of the house drawing. Drawings have not always played the same role in architectural history. 928 In the history of architectural theory, therefore, their status is not always obvious. In fact, sometimes drawings are not even used. For example, Vitruvius occasionally considers it necessary to add a few ‘graphic depictions’ for better understanding.929 Of the ten drawings he includes, he places most of them at the end of an explanation.930 These concern either simplified constructions (the wind rose and its application in the town, diagrams of a tone system and a staircase construction),931 or some complicated parts of a column that can hardly be described.932 According to Krinsky, however, the illustrations in some medieval manuscripts are independent of Vitruvius’ own references.933 But ground plans, which for a long time were thought to have disappeared, were never in Vitruvius’ treatise. Carpo recently stated that Vitruvius does not add laborious illustrations precisely because they (when copied manually) easily lead to making mistakes. Given the labor-intensive production of illustrations compared to text, this explains, in his opinion, the absence of the drawing. Only with the advent of book printing can errors be avoided, because every print is the same. 934 The ‘ichnographia’ (the floor plan of the building), the ‘orthographia’ (the elevation) and the ‘scaenographia’ (referred to by Vitruvius as ‘the third descent’) together form the ‘dispositio’ (the appropriately ordered and pleasant composition). This ‘third descent’ – indicating a kinship between the drawings – is commonly known as the perspective drawing. These are forms that can be constructed with ruler and compass and whose geometric procedure is easy to describe in words. ‘... a geometric construct, even a complex one, can easily be verbalized. A geometric construct is a sequence; it unfolds in time like speech itself and adapts itself easily to verbal reproduction in real time. (‘Take the line segment A-B. Divide it into 124 two equal parts with a pair of compasses. Call the middle point C. From point C...’). Medieval artisans committed to memory scores of these verbal sequences. For those in the know, an elementary visual diagram could in fact be of use in jogging the memory on a difficult passage in the geometric sequence. These diagrams, incomplete and cryptic as they were, did not reveal any methods of construction to those who were not already initiated into their secrets’.935 For example, instead of a drawing of the Roman house, Vitruvius gives instructions for the proportions of three shapes of an atrium. In addition, these instructions are accompanied by specific drawing instructions. Vitruvius mentions three ways to make the length and width of the atrium: the length consists of 5 and the width of 3 units or 3 and 2 units. The third form is generated by drawing a square from the width, the diagonal of which is the length of the atrium. 936 Stevin by the way records Vitruvius’ enumeration in its entirety, although he makes his notations shorter by using fractures.937 De langde en breede der lichtplaetsen namen sy op driederley wyse, als in reden van 5 tot 3. van 3 tot 2. en van √ 2 tot 1. Haer hoochde, vanden vloer tot de dweersbalcken, die het loofdack draghen, als inde 3 form vande vloer LK. tot D, was van 3/4 langhde, dat is 3/4 der langhde AD inde 1 form. Als de lichtplaets lanck was van 30 tot 40 voeten, het derdendeel van dien wiert voor breede der twee vleughels gheschickt: Maer sijnde van 40 tot 50 voeten, men nam de 2/7;938 Ende van 50 tot 60 het 1/4: Van 60 tot 80 de 2/9; Van 80 tot 100 het 1/5.939 [The length and breadth of the courtyards they took in three ways, as in reason from 5 to 3. from 3 to 2. and from √ 2 to 1. Its height, from the floor to the crossbeams, which carry the roof of the courtyard, as in the 3rd form of the floor LK. to D, was of 3/4 length, that is 3/4 of the length AD in the 1 form. If the courtyard had a length of 30 to 40 feet, then the third part of it was taken for width of the two wings: But at a length of 40 to 50 feet, one took the 2/7; And at 50 to 60 the 1/4 part: From 60 to 80 the 2/9; From 80 to 100 the 1/5]. Leon Battista Alberti’s architectural treatise also lacks drawings. Only in later editions, like the one by Bartoli (1550) and the one by Leoni (1755) based on it, illustrations were added. By ‘design’ Alberti means a conceptual system of rules that is separate from the fabric. The term ‘lineamenta’ used by Alberti has given rise to many discussions.940 Sometimes the term is conceived as a concrete system of lines and as a form.941 Sometimes more emphasis is placed on the underlying (imperfect) idea that can be perfected through the drawing, as Millon writes about Alberti’s drawing: ‘An idea, or disegno, in architecture could only be realized through a model. The idea, as formed in the mind, was imperfect and could only be given its consequent form through drawings. Further the drawings were to be studied, assessed, and improved through models, thereby ultimately approaching an embodiment of the idea’.942 Van Eck rightly points out that this is a term that, 125 depending on its context, refers to an aspect of a structure (consisting of lineamenta, materia and opus) and the art of building (consisting of lineamenta and structura): ‘lineamenta may be translated as design, both in the sense of mental activity and its manifestation in the form of drawings’.943 In this mental, conceptual presentation, made ‘according to the rules,’ the correct angular and dimensional relationships, proportions and arrangements are ‘perfectly’ established. On the one hand the drawing consists of the same perfect numbers, lines and angles, but on the other hand it introduces the concrete reality, which will always show imperfections. The model of natural fabric goes one step further, because it incorporates physical reality, with all its special properties (such as the location of a structure and the peculiarities of the substances used). Thus, drawing and model serve, given the rules of nature, to test the advantages and disadvantages of the material properties in concrete terms. For Alberti, drawing and model therefore serve as means of reflection used by the good master builder.944 A standpoint also defended by Stevin when he points out the usefulness of a drawing in order to be able to consider everything properly prior to the actual building and, if necessary, make changes. 945 I therefore always highly commend the ancient Custom of Builders, who not only in Draughts and Paintings, but in real Models of Wood or other Substance, examin’d and weigh’d over and over again, with the Advice of Men of the best Experience, the whole Work and the Admeasurements of all its Parts, before they put themselves to the Expence or Trouble. By making a Model you will have an Opportunity, thoroughly to weigh and consider the Form and Situation of your Platform with respect to the Region, what Extent is to be allow’d to it, the Number and Order of the Parts, how the Walls are be made, and how strong and firm the Covering; and in a Word all those Particulars which we have spoken of in the preceding Book: And there you may easily and freely add, retrench, alter, renew, and in short change every Thing from one End to t’other, till all and every one of the Parts are just as you would have them, and without Fault. Add likewise, that you may then examine and compute (what is by no means to be neglected) the Particulars and Sum of your future Expence, the Size, Heighth, Thickness, Number, Extent, Form, Species and Quality of all the Parts, how they are to be made, and by what Artificers. According to Alberti, with his emphasis on model and drawing, he tries to temper the lust of architects who crave to build. Contemplation and time spent on drawing and model prevent a realized building from becoming a disappointment.946 Unlike Vitruvius, Alberti does not describe drawing procedures. He describes mathematical rules for finding series of numbers whose properties are useful for architecture and which do not stem from the natural nature of numbers. The goal is to generate three mutually proportional numbers in order to harmonize the three dimensions of a chamber. Contrary to what Wittkower suggests, Alberti emphasizes that there are many and very different 126 types of rules to generate such middle proportions. 947 He chooses the rules of arithmetic, geometry and music because they are widely appreciated.948 Some aspects are again addressed by Serlio and Palladio. They describe the harmonic proportions (as Vitruvius and Alberti do) and give the geometric lines step by step (as Vitruvius does). The drawings show the points (often indicated with letters) via lines (obtained with ruler and compass). Serlio explains the drawing procedure separately using the secrets of Euclidean geometry in his Il primo libro d’architettura.949 A way of doing which also occurs in others (bp.2.35.1-3), such as Diego da Sagredo (1526).950 Using examples, Serlio shows the rules from which an architect or workman can take other forms. In his other work he considers this knowledge known. Therefore, seeing that Geometrie is the first degree of all good Art, to the end I may shew the Architector so much thereof, as that he may thereby be able with good skill, to giue some reason of his worke. Touching the speculations of Euclides and other Authors, that haue written of Geometrie, I will leaue them, and onely take some flowers out of their Garden, that therewith by the shortest way that I can, I may entreat of diuers cutting through Lines, with some demonstrations, meaning so plainly and openly to set downe and declare the same, both in writing and in figures, that euery man may conceiue and understand them, advertizing the Reader not to proceed to know the second figure, before he hath well understood and found out the first, and so still proceeding, he shall at last attaine unto his desire.951 Palladio discusses the properties of the drawing in his Book I, as well as in chapters on the nature of sand, wood and metals, and chapters on the working of roofs, stairs and stoves and on the order of columns. He gives proportions for chambers, but also for doors, windows and loggias. 952 He makes remarks about symmetry, gives a known set of seven most suitable forms of chambers, and describes a few lines with which the middle proportion can be found. 953 If chambers of different sizes are placed next to each other, the architect must, on the basis of his mathematical knowledge, adjust the heights so that together they not only generate a regular ceiling but also find harmonious proportions for each chamber. An issue that Stevin further ignores because in his opinion it is comfortable and pleasant when all the chambers are the same height.954 If the heights of the chambers on each floor are such that the chambers of the first floor are higher than the chambers of the second floor and the latter are higher than the chambers of the third floor, then this height mass can be used in the way that is most appropriate. This means that several chambers of different sizes are arranged so that they have the same vault height and that the vaults are nevertheless proportioned according to the size of the chambers. The result is a striking beauty, and this also applies to the floor on the floor above, which is now completely flat. There are other calculations of vault heights that 127 cannot be set out in rules, but the architect must make use of such calculations according to his own judgement and in accordance with expediency.955 His executed mansions and villas are based on rules like these, and Palladio does not further explain their composition.956 However, there is a big difference between Vitruvius and Alberti on the one hand and Serlio and Palladio on the other hand. Namely the fact that drawings get more weight in the last two. From the middle of the fifteenth century drawings in architectural writings become more important. All sixteenth-century reissues of Vitruvius are ‘illustrated’.957 And this isn’t an isolated case. In a broader context, illustrations in general appear to have become a more important aspect of theoretical publications from 1500 onwards, such as De humani corporis fabrica (1552) by Andrea Vesalius (bp.4.117.15).958 A different relationship between the drawing and the knowledge to be transferred begins to emerge. Drawings take on a different appearance in connection with the knowledge being transferred.959 Vitruvius’ ancient text with its many ‘dark’ phrases was updated in the sixteenth century.960 Not only by adding textual commentary or by filling gaps in his work with drawings, but more rigorously: text is replaced by visualized thinking. The text is included in a new order in which image and imagination come to the fore (bp.2.39.1-3). ‘We can say that the illustration of the Cesariano edition marks a crucial moment in the history of western architecture: a fifteen-century-old architectural theory suddenly takes visible shape’.961 In the architectural treatises of the early modern period more value will be attached to what the image is able to do. It is believed that the image can nestle itself more powerfully in the memory than a text (a view we will encounter again in the next chapters with Jacob Cats and Samuel van Hoogstraten). As a place of credibility and form of delivery in matters of knowledge and belief, the text cedes its primacy to the image.962 ‘Serlio added,’ writes Rosenfeld, ‘that he gave more credence to illustrations than to written descriptions, since he considered the former to be more truthful’.963 Wilkinson quotes an anonymous architectural treatise (1550) which shows the same attitude towards the image: ‘The principal ornament of the church, and that in which most care must be taken, is the images, because, having seen them, one later calls to mind God and his saints, something which all men cannot easily do, simply by contemplation’.964 In the background, not only do older religious views on the status of the image play a role, to which I shall return later, but of course recent developments in the field of printing too. The image becomes a mass product (first through woodcuts, later through copper engravings) and gets a huge distribution through the printed book. The image becomes a phenomenon with far-reaching consequences. The audience that comes 128 into contact with knowledge through images increases in this period and is also more heterogeneous in nature. This brings me to the last point, namely the peculiar status of Stevin’s house drawing compared to the images of others. Three points come together in his drawing. Firstly, Stevin’s architectural drawing contains knowledge of the drawing procedure that he explains (often step by step) in other works.965 In the first chapter of his Meetdaad [On Measuring] he discusses, in a paragraph entitled ‘Het teyckenen der linien’ [The drawing of the lines], the different ways and the tools with which one can draw straight lines, depending on the substratum (bp.2.36.1). Paper requires other means than putting out a drawing on the field. 966 He considers it necessary to learn practical geometric dexterity, as appears from his instruction for the new Duytsche Mathematique in Leiden in 1600. In addition to basic mathematical knowledge, the ‘oeffeninge van het ingenieurscap’ includes learning to make and practice all kinds of drawings in phases. As explained in section 2.1.4., these include ‘grontteyckeninghe’ [floor plan], the ‘verheven teyckening’ [elevation, façade]967 and the ‘lichamelicke teyckeningh’ [bodily, physical drawing].968 In the Stercktenbouwing [On fortresses] for example, the three types of drawings contain in a concise and demonstrative manner all the knowledge gathered in the preceding pages. The drawings, he says, serve as an aid to a clear understanding of the knowledge gathered in this treatise (which he posits in the form of twenty-one definitions of terms). After Stevin has given these definitions, a list of dimensions of the ground drawing follows, and then he makes the drawing step by step with compass and ruler. Sometimes Stevin abbreviates a description of the lines to be drawn, as in the case of the elevated drawing, because, as he says, this is already sufficiently clear in the description of the dimensions of some of the main lines.969 The second aspect implies that a drawing must contain knowledge about architectural dimensions. The ‘perspective sketch’ (in Stevin’s terms ‘verschaeuwing’ or ‘scenographia’) used by painters is where it concerns architectural drawing rejected by Stevin because of the ‘vercorting der linien’ [shortening of the lines] and ‘de verandering der houcken uyter oogh’ [the change of eye angles].970 Alberti too rejects the use of perspective for architects because of the distortion it causes in the ratio of sizes between the parts. 971 Hart argues, therefore, that the question is whether Vitruvius’ third descent – described by him as ‘scaenographia’ but known as ‘perspective’ – should be interpreted in this way. Vitruvius' description (‘façade with receding side walls’) might also indicate the ‘bodily drawing,’ which is aimed not so much at a correct image (where the lines are shortened), but at the correct indication of the architectural parts. Such a ‘physical’ form is nowadays referred to as ‘isometric drawing’ (or ‘axiometry’). In this drawing, all the lengths (including the receding parts) retain their true measure, which is of eminent importance for knowledge of the inner relations in 129 the building structure.972 Rafael’s rejection of the perspective drawing is also in line with this: ‘For in that case, by shortening the lines, the master builder cannot take any correct measure, which is indispensable for this discipline that demands that all proportions are correspond to reality and are rendered with parallel lines, not with lines that pretend to be so but are not so in reality’.973 Serlio, who does use the ‘perspective’, scenographic drawings, explicitly does so in order to be able to give a proper presentation of theatrical scenes (bp.2.37.3). Serlio thus distinguishes between the sketchy ‘scaenografia’ and the architecturally more correct ‘sciographic’ drawing, in which the architectural components are rendered in their correct physical and mutually measurable quality (bp.2.37.1-2).974 Stevin’s treatise includes a ‘rough’ drawing of ‘the Model of the House’ which, although it is described as perspective (and appears to be from the hand of his son Hendrick), shows characteristics of the aforementioned ‘sciographic’ (or ‘isometric’) drawing, a term also found in Stevin’s work (bp.2.16.1). 975 Instead of a perspective drawing from which no characteristics of lines can be derived, it is a ‘lichaemelicke tekening’ [bodily drawing] of the house, in accordance with Stevin’s definition in his Stercktenbouwing (bp.2.20.1). A third aspect relates to all other architectural knowledge laid down in the drawing. For example, a drawing of a fortified town has different properties than those of a house. The house must – as was repeatedly shown in the previous section – be able to meet a variety of Nature’s requirements. Thus, in the drawing of the house, both the properties of numbers and lines and the innate nature of human beings reveal themselves. In this sense, Stevin’s house drawing differs from a functionalist operation, in which use is a social function that brings about form. With Stevin, drawing and use are two different manifestations of the natural order that are attuned to each other in a building. The drawing of lines is done according to mathematical rules derived from Nature and the determination of usage is based on rules to classify human beings in terms of their inborn characteristics. In a church, human beings do different things than in a town hall. For chariot races, a location must be long and narrow (circus), if one wants to fight with wild animals, convicts or prisoners of war (hoping to win the first prize), a round place is suitable (amphitheater), if one wants to see acrobatics, dancing and theater, then a semi-circular place is suitable (Greek theater). Thus, in Stevin’s words, the natural requirements of use determine the kind of form one chooses. To follow or imitate Nature, therefore, means to comply with the rules of Nature.976 That’s why buildings differ in their shape. The shape of a building structure, says Stevin, finds its cause in the demands of its natural use. 977 Benevens de voorgaende grontteyckeningen der Romeynscher Burgerlijcke huysen, soo synder noch verscheyde manieren van ghemene ghestichten, wiens formen, van die seer verschillen, ghemaeckt sijnde elck na den eysch van hare gebruyck; Als kercken, Stadt huysen, Theatren bycans een half ront, ghelijck waren Theatrum Scauri, Pompei, Marcelli, wesende tonneelen om camerspelen, tumeling, springing, en dierghelijcke in te sien: 130 Amphitheatrum, datmen Ronttonneel mocht heten, was eysche-wyse, al Amphitheatrum Statily, Tauri, T. Vespasiani, Claudij, waer in vele menschen, deur hope van opghestelde prijsen te winnen, tegen wreede wilde ghedierten vochten, tot welck schrickelijck spel oock de verwesen en krijgsgevanghenen ghedronghen wierden: Voort Naumachia, dat Schipstrijt betekent, welck tonneel diende om de Romeynsche Ieucht te leeren de manier van oirloch te water te vooren, als Naumachiae Circi Maximi, Domitiani, Neronis, Caesaris; Inde selve lietmen, deur seker sluyse, het worstelperck, tusschen de trappen des tonneels, vol waters loopen, en ‘t spil ten eynde sijnde, liep deur een ander sluyse, weerom daer uyt. Ander tonneelen waren lanck een smal, van form bycans, als een kegelsnee *Wassendesne [Hyperbola], by hun oock Circi gheheeten, diens voornaemste gebruyck was tot vvorsteling en looping om prijs met vvagens en peerden rontom seker * Naelden, daer in staende, aen beyde eynden. Sulcke vvaren Circus Maximus, Floratium Flaminij, Neronis, Alexandri, Antonini. De Romeynsche Baedstoven, die by hun Thermae hieten, hadden oock haer bysondere form, met vvorstelpercken, tonneelen en bosschen, als Thermeae Anthonianae, Diocletianae, Decianae, Varianae, Trajani, Philippi, Imperatoris, Gordiani, Olympiadis, Novatianae, Agippinae, Neronianae, Alexandrinae, Hadriani, Severianae, Constantinae, Aurelinanae, en meer andere. [Besides the foregoing ground drawings of the Roman Burgher houses, there are several kinds of general establishments, their forms being very different, because made according to the requirement of its use; Such as Churches, Town-houses, Theatres which are almost half-round, as the Theatrum Scauri, Pompei, Marcelli, which offered a stage where chamber-play, dancers, acrobats, and the like are to be seen: Amphitheatrum, which may be called, following the requirements, Round stage, such as Amphitheatrum Statily, Tauri, T. Vespasiani, Claudij, in which many people, hoping to win the displayed prizes, fought against cruel, wild animals, a terrible game to which even the condemned and the prisoners of war were forced; Further Naumachia, which means dat Sea battle, a stage that served to teach the Roman youth the ways of war on water, like Naumachiae Circi Maximi, Domitiani, Neronis, Caesaris; Here, with the help of a sluice, the wrestling place between the steps of the stage was filled with water, and when the play was over, the water ran out through another sluice. Other stages were long and narrow, in shape almost like a con ic section *Wassendesne [Hyperbola], called Circi by them, with the principal use of wrestling and running with chariots and horses around certain * Needles, standing at either end, to obtain a prize. Like Circus Maximus, Floratium Flaminij, Neronis, Alexandri, Antonini. The Roman Baths, called Thermae according to them, also had its peculiar forms, with wrestling grounds, stages, as Thermeae Anthonianae, Diocletianae, Decianae, Varianae, Trajani, Philippi, Imperatoris, Gordiani, Olympiadis, Novatianae, Agippinae, Neronianae, Alexandrinae, Hadriani, Severianae, Constantinae, Aurelinanae, and more others]. In this vein, Stevin argues that in a house the drawing of the chambers precedes the answering of the question for which use a chamber is most suitable.978 Serlio 131 too bases his house drawings on the different ‘degrees’ in which people are classified, which are based on the classification of properties that certain types of human beings naturally possess. Thus, there are gradations in terms of wealth, age, biological sex and regional characteristics and customs.979 The master builder must know these gradations and take them into account: from them springs the variation in house drawings.980 This kind of house could serve as a house for persons of several degrees; perhaps a wealthy artisan would like one of these, or perhaps a well-to-do burgher would be satisfied with it. I have seen rich merchants who had to be satisfied with less’, Serlio writes. His argument for the shape of a poor man’s house goes as follows: Deze bescheiden woning zal voldoen voor een arme man, ervan uitgaande dat er een kleine moestuin (orticello) zal zijn met in een hoek het privaat (necessario) en op straat een gemeenschappelijke waterput voor veel buren. Er zal ook geen keuken of kelder zijn maar ik zeg u dat een arme man van een dergelijk lage gradus bij de dag leeft en genoeg heeft aan een ruimte om al zijn huisraad (massaritie) onder te brengen. [Huis A] Maar als hij in betere doen is en een groter gezin heeft (di maggior famiglia), kan men [aan dit huis] heel goed nog een andere, vierkante kamer D toevoegen, die dient als keuken en ook als kelder/voorraadkamer (Pl. XLVIII, bp.2.33.2). [This modest house will suffice for a poor man, assuming that there will be a small vegetable garden (orticello) with in one corner the privy (necessario) and on the street a common well for many neighbors. There will also be no kitchen or cellar but I tell you that a poor man of such low degree lives by the day and has enough of a space to house all his household goods (massaritie) [House A] But if he is in better standing and has a larger family (di maggior famiglia), one can very well add [to this house] another, square room D, which serves as a kitchen and also as a cellar/storage room (Pl. XLVIII, bp.2.33.2)]. To conclude: Stevin uses his drawing as a repository for all the necessary knowledge (‘noodtlickheden die t’samen het hele Huys maken’ [necessities that together make up the whole house]) which one has to take into account when building a house.981 These include the natural properties of substances and human beings. The knowledge thereof is indicated in the drawing in short with inscriptions or letters.982 They recall the corresponding passages from the text. But there are also mathematical insights stored in the drawing. Because its ‘shape’ is ‘eenvoudich’ [simple], it can serve to teach the ‘gemeene’ [general] rule. On the basis of this general rule, it can then be deduced how the actual diversity can be approximated. In addition, the ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ [congruity] contained in the drawing not only ensures a ‘behaaglijk aanzien’ [pleasurable appearance], but at the same time guarantees the correct implementation of the house in practice. In 132 this way the drawing of the house accounts for special material circumstances and for practical changes (such as changes of inhabitants). Both in his Dialectike and in his Wysentijt, Stevin expresses his interest in memorizing knowledge and demonstrates his interest in arranging material in an orderly way to make it easier to appropriate and remember it.983 Stevin here repeats guidelines from the classic ars memoria, part of the rhetoric. In his Dialectike ofte Bevvysconst, which he considers to be the foundation of rhetoric, he deals with orderly argumentation and the construction of a plea. 984 The ‘visual arrangement’ suggested vby Peter Ramus with his ‘ramistic tableau’, to which Stevin refers, is part of the early modern transformation of the classical ‘memory chambers’. The linking of ‘places’ and ‘figurative images’ shifts to order in itself.985 Order, conciseness, the use of numbers in arithmetic, the orderly practice of reasoning, the denunciation of ordered rows, the orderly and visual arrangement of insights in a tableau (Stevin speaks of ‘tafel’ [table]) – these are various ways in which knowledge remains ‘inde memorie’ [is remembered], memory is strengthened and thinking about the stored knowledge is activated (bp.2.38.1).986 Thus, the house drawing serves a double purpose for Stevin. On the one hand he stores the natural requirements of his own time in this drawing. On the other hand, it is a sediment of the disciplinary capital concerning building materials, about human beings, about conveniences, etc., that from Vitruvius onwards defined architectural thinking in Europe and that from the middle of the fifteenth century began to focus more and more on the house. As a memory system, ‘the architectural drawing’ encompasses more than just ‘a tool’.987 In other authors, this increased interest in the house led to an expanding series of house drawings in accordance with a stratification based on natural qualities and regional characteristics. Of Serlio’s series of seventy drawings (1547), twenty he counted as houses of burghers.988 With De Cerceau (1559), this number rises to about fifty drawings, while Le Muet (1623) draws more than thirty.989 Unlike these ‘catalogues’ for clients drawn up by the other early modern authors, 990 Stevin suffices with a single drawing that is appropriate for a diverse range of inhabitants. Ten anderen gebeuret dickwils dat huysen in twee deelen by verscheyden huysgesinnen bewoont worden, in welcken ghevalle het voughelick is, elck syn eyghen steyghers te hebben, sonder d’een des anders wooningh te ontvreyen (...) ‘t Gebeurt dickvvils datmen een huys veroirdent om daer in te woonen een Edelman, Rentier, Amptman of een die gheen nering en doet, ghelijck mette boveschreve teyckening voorbeeltsche wijse gheschiet is, nochtans daer na van ymant nering doende bewoont moet worden, als van een Cramer, Coopman, Ambachtsman of herbergier, ‘t welck alst daer toe onbequaem is, streckt tot ongherief der ghener dieder in woonen, oock tot achterdeel der eyghenaers, dat niert connende soo hooch verheuren of vercoopen als sy anders wel souden, of moest vermaeckt 133 wesen. Maer dese form, en heeft dat ongheval niet te verwachten om dese redenen: By aldient waer een Cramer, Coopman, Ambachtsman of een die wijnckel doet, ‘t isser bequaem toe, deur dien de Sael met d’ander twee nevenstaende percken, die an de straet commen, veel veynsters hebben na den eysch van wijnckels: Inde Comtoiren comt oock vry licht, conennde soo wel dienen tot wijnckels als tot comtoiren; De cassen op elcke sijde der camers dienen om coomschap in te sluyten na Cooplien ghebruyck: Voor een herberch heeft elck der vier percken nevens der eerden, met derghelijcke vier daer boven, sijn twee betsteen of plaetsen daer toe dienende, en elck haer heymelick en contoir, bequaem voor reysende lieden, om daer in te schrijven en op te sluyten, ‘t ghene men voor yghelick inde camer commende, niet en begheert te laten bloot legghen; De twee groote salen, d’een boven , d’ander beneen, connen dienen tot maeltijden van veel volcx; Den Weert mach een camer voor hem eyghen houden, met groote vryheyt, sonder dar ymant der ghelogeerde, daer door behouft te gaen om in sijn camer te commen.991 [It often happens that a house is divided in two and inhabited by different families; in that case it is appropriate that they each have their own staircase, and in such a way that they do not make the other house unfree [...]. It often happens that one determines a house to be occupied by a Nobleman, a Rentier, a Public servant or someone who does not engage in trade, as has been done in an exemplary manner with the drawing shown above, while someone who engages in trade, such as a Shopkeeper, a Merchant, Craftsman or an Innkeeper, comes to live thereafter, whereby this house drawing is unsuitable and brings inconvenience to those who live in it, and is also detrimental to the owner who can neither rent out nor sell the house, which he would otherwise do, except if one remodels the house. But from this form of the house this defect is not to be expected and for these reasons: For a Shopkeeper, Merchant, Craftsman or one who has a store, it is expedient, to have the Hall with the two chambers next to it which face the street and have many windows, given the requirement of stores: In the offices there will also be free light, and so may serve as stores as well as cupboards; The cupboards on each side of the chamber may serve to store the merchandise in as merchants do; For an inn, each of the four chambers on the first floor, with the four chambers above it, have two bed boxes or places that serve for that purpose, each with its own privy and office, suitable for traveling persons to write in and lock up there, all that one would rather not leave visible for others who come into the chamber; The two large halls, one above, the other below, may serve for meals of many people; The Innkeeper may keep a room for himself, with much freedom, without anyone of the guests having to pass through it to get into his chamber]. Unlike Serlio’s, his house drawing is not intended as a floor plan of a real house.992 But Stevin’s drawing also differs from Alberti’s. The latter sees the system of building rules as a completely conceptual matter, of which the drawing is a part. And finally, Stevin’s drawing also deviates from Vitruvius’ method, which attributes memorable power primarily to the text.993 Systematically ordered and arranged, a text remains, as Vitruvius writes, ‘nestled in the brain’, and 134 ensures that ‘it remains stable and immobile in the memory’. In this way, he concludes, ‘the mind will be able to absorb the knowledge more easily’.994 The master builder distinguishes himself, according to Vitruvius, by this ordered knowledge and his mental handling of it. ‘All people, not just architects, can judge what is good, but between laymen and architects there is this distinction, that the layman cannot know how something is going to be before he has seen it, while the architect, as soon as he has formed a concept, before he has even started, already has a precise idea of how well defined, how useful and how efficacious the result will be’.995 Stevin carries out an upgrading of the mathematical drawing and uses it as a visible and sure demonstration of the general architectural rules he has dealt with. In this upgrading resonates the potential of the visible, a capability that extends far beyond the architectural realm as will become apparent. But Stevin's primary goal is an orderly presentation of the rules of architecture. With the treatment of this, I will conclude this chapter of Stevin. 135 2.2.3. The Art of Architecture, Reflection and Doing In this section I will discuss the theoretical status of Stevin’s argument about the house and architecture. This is necessary for two reasons. Firstly, the inner coherence of his architectural thinking is not yet clear. All the issues discussed in the above sections belong to their own level of signification, but the connection between them has yet to be discussed. Several items can also be found in Goeree’s argument and yet Goeree’s argument (in terms of tone, connections and objective) differs to a large extent from Stevin’s argument. Therefore, it is necessary to clarify the theoretical structure that exists between all kinds of levels. The second reason is that while Stevin is described as a "scientist," it is rarely, if ever, explained what he himself meant by that. For most authors, Stevin’s scientific attitude is beyond dispute. Dijksterhuis pointed out at the time that Stevin’s merit often lies in the clear and didactic presentation of the current state of affairs in a certain field. 996 This makes the Renaissance scholar with his broad theoretical interest a natural starting point from which to study his writings. Stevin then emerges as someone who primarily engages in theory and, in addition, is involved in practical inventions. Later, in the Introduction to the Principal Works, he appears as a scholar swinging back and forth between two poles: ‘Thus he continuously oscillates between what he calls ‘spiegeling’ (reflection i.e. theoretical investigation) and daet (practical activity)’.997 For some time now, more emphasis has been placed on the theoretical interest Stevin develops for the sake of a better functioning practice. ‘In the daet’ the ‘spiegheling’ finds its raison d'être,’ says Van Berkel. ‘Pure theory has no independent value for Stevin, although he is by no means so narrow-minded as not to investigate further than is strictly necessary for his practical problems. Nor does he reject exclusively practicing theory entirely. (...) In his own work, however, Stevin always keeps a very clear eye on the utility that can be derived from it. There’s no place for reflection in his view on science’.998 Van Berkel speaks of Stevin as an ‘engineer interested in science’.999 In this light, many peculiarities are interpreted by Stevin. His plea for the public benefit of science is interpreted as proof of his ‘pragmatism’.1000 His defense of the Dutch language was conceived as a fantasy, as a sign of his purism or also of the rationalism with which he approached culture. 1001 Stevin’s utilitarianism would make him different from the scholars and professors with whom he maintained relations. ‘In the history of civilization Stevin figures as the prototype of the engineer, of the perfect technologist, who deals with practical problems in a scientific way’, says Dijksterhuis as an introduction to Stevin’s Principal Works.1002 Van Berkel does not consider Stevin, but Isaac Beeckman as a modern scientist who, while constantly testing his ideas against practice, put reflection above practical solutions and developed theories for the sake of science. Stevin, unlike Beeckman, was not interested in the causes of the phenomena, 136 because he was only interested in the phenomena themselves. 1003 And Van den Heuvel too sees Stevin more successful as one of ‘the greatest engineers of his time’ and as a didactic, than as a scientist who coherently explained scientific issues in a treatise.1004 In a sense Stevin formed a bridge between representatives of a classical theoretical tradition and critics who focused on practical applications and experimentation in science,’ according to Van den Heuvel.1005 With the introduction of such opposites as theory-practice and Renaissancemodern, Stevin is made a somewhat hybrid person in such interpretations, which also has repercussions on the understanding of his architectural thinking. For example, Taverne writes: ‘The structure of the triple [architecture] treatise – but also the tone and manner of presentation – is determined by Stevin’s view on the relationship between theory and practice, the theoretical refklections of scholars and the experiences of craftsmen’.1006 Moreover, there is a lack of clarity about the term ‘engineer’. Engineer comes from the Latin ‘ingenium’ (finding). In the Middle Ages, the term primarily referred to a technician, especially of war devices. In the course of the sixteenth century the term split into the (Italian) ‘engineer’ who deals with fortresses and the master builder (or architect) who focuses on civil architecture. 1007 If one adds his assumed character traits (Stevin would be cold and technocratic), it is clear why his practical interest is nowadays often interpreted as servitude to the ruling power.1008 Whether he was promoting the interests of the elite in general, propagating Calvinistic morality, advocating a democratic view of equality, or using biblical references to make Prince Maurits a warrior of God, Stevin is always thought to be an extension of some power struggle.1009 In these scientific-historical interpretations, Stevin is far removed from the purely scientific research that Dijksterhuis once attributed to him. 1010 However, the hybrid nature of Stevin’s scientific pursuits is caused by the prevalence of modern notions of periodization and science. Our classification renaissance – modern, as we have seen in 2.2.1., does not correspond to the periodization in which Stevin and others thought at the time. Furthermore, Stevin uses the Greek terms Theoria & Praxis, but always in the margins.1011 Instead, he often uses the ‘Duytsche’ concepts of ‘spiegeling’ [reflection, and ‘daed’ [deed], a distinction that is consistent with Vitruvius’ between ‘ratiocinatio’ and ‘fabrica’.1012 Moreover, he always uses the terms ‘spiegeling’ and ‘daed’ in combination with other terms related to his conception of Nature, language, observation and drawing. Instead of the modern concept of science, he speaks of an art (‘const’, ars).1013 He also adheres to the medieval distinction between ‘Vrye’ [Liberalibus]) and ‘tuychwerckelicke consten’ [Mechanica artibus]). The difference between the two lies not so much in the way the knowledge is ordered, but in the nature of the knowledge that is ordered. 1014 Stevin organizes a knowledge system based on assumptions that are different from ours. In his ‘cumbersome’ argumentation (according to some modern authors), numerous 137 arguments can be found from which it emerges what he understands by science. It explains why he delineates science in relation to other genres, why he expresses himself on Dutch as a scientific language, what he considers to be good science and what he understands by an ‘architect’.1015 All these arguments are relevant to the rationality of his architecture as a knowledge system. The analytical construction of the architectural knowledge system that I advocate should, by the way, not be confused with the reconstruction of the alleged original content and structure of Stevin’s never completed architectural treatise De Huysbou as advocated by Van den Heuvel (1996). Stevin explains his views on science most succinctly in the aforementioned Wysentijt. In addition, important passages can be found in his Dialectike and his ‘Uytspraeck vande Weerdicheyt der Duytsche tael’, included in De Beghinselen der Weeghconst. In the Wysentijt, Stevin distinguishes the science he advocated from other genres. Telling a history, for example, has a completely different ratio. In his Wysentyt he refers to some classical histories, such as the story of Helena’s abduction or the battles that Achilles won. In such stories one is taken from one event to another, a progress that the reader accepts without a doubt. 1016 Moreover, they are narratives that can be understood even without language. Even mime players can convincingly convey such a story, according to Stevin. Another example are the orators.1017 The heart can be touched by the mobility of the words.1018 Orators try to persuade their listeners with eloquence through the use of rhetorical means and gesticulation. 1019 Through an abundance of synonyms and a beautiful style, the orator leads the audience to adopt his point of view. This method distinguishes itself from that of science.1020 Stevin emphatically adds that he does not in any way want to diminish the art of eloquence - an inalienable part of education in this period in the Netherlands as well.1021 His purpose is merely to articulate the prevailing rules of science. Whereas a convincingly rhetorical argument is characterized by copia and varietas, the dialectic is not about a large number of words (‘niet Arithmetelick tellende de menichte der woorden’), nor about the beautiful style (‘cierlycke Redenen’, ‘toerustinghen als bedriechelicke cieraet, ende verduysterende veelheydt’), but about weighing ‘de cracht der eenvoudige argumenten’ [the power of simple arguments].1022 From such a consideration can be explained, for example, the elaborate argument with which he begins his Stercktenbouwing. Stevin points out that he won’t talk about all the fortifications built in the past. His argument will only be about the best fortifications. These are fortifications in which the contemporary military resources of the enemy are taken into account.1023 That is why he will scientifically explain the properties of a perfect fortification. Stevin regularly emphasizes that he strives for a solid foundation, a certain grounding from which to approach the world. While investigating, he always tries to find the properties and causes that are deeply hidden in Nature. He is convinced that the profundities of Nature can be fathomed in principle. Moreover, his belief 138 in the existence of regularities in Nature is supported by all kinds of fragments of high quality knowledge that appeared in Greek and Arabic writings (and sometimes in Latin translations) and were shown to him by, among others, the Arabist Josephus Scaliger working in Leiden. 1024 In the writings that began to reach Europe from the twelfth century onwards, this kind of knowledge has been translated, commented on, edited and systematized. 1025 Knowledge of astronomy, arithmetic, and geometry, as well as algebra, alchemy, and magic, Stevin finds gathered here.1026 They are ‘signs’ from which he concludes that there must once have been a Wysentijt [Era of Wisdom], in which a perfect knowledge existed and one had complete insight into the coherence of things.1027 He mentions six signs that point to this: ‘Hemelloop’ (astronomy), arithmetic and in particular the ‘stelregel’ [maxim, algebra), the art of measurement (geometry), the ‘damphooghte’ (atmosphere), the ‘geesthandel’ (Magia) and finally alchemy. 1028 The work of Hermes Trismegistus (‘onbekent wie hy was, uyt wat lant, of tot wat tijt hy leefde, hoewelmen hem voor seer oudt acht’ | unknown who he was, from what country, or in what time he lived, however he was thought to be very old) he considers exemplary for the miraculous knowledge of old times.1029 Because one cannot assume that people’s mental and spiritual abilities have changed in the meantime, Stevin considers it possible to re-appropriate this knowledge, even if it is in the distant future.1030 Other signs, such as the ‘hemeltekens der Indianen’ [celestial signs of the Indians]1031 or the 'SIGNA HERMETIS', with monsters consisting of various animals, he explicitly does not count among these signs of wisdom.1032 For Stevin, wisdom and certain knowledge are related to ‘wisconst’ [mathematical knowledge].1033 An art that describes regularity in natural principles must meet several conditions. These relate to making observations, recording them (in a common language or in the accessible image) and arranging them into a system of learnable rules. These conditions can be explained as follows. First of all, an art is impossible if one does not have many observations. These are lacking for example in astronomy, but also in knowledge about ebb and flow, in astrology, 1034 alchemy and medicine. He considers the (recent) ‘opsnijding’ [anatomy] to be an example of actual observation, but this also includes research into herbs and medicines in alchemy. However, writing about this takes more time than would be appropriate, which is why Stevin leaves it at this indication. 1035 Stevin regularly speaks about observing Nature and natural phenomena, such as those in the sky.1036 En ten eersten dat ons seer veel dadelicke ervaringhen gebreken, daermen de consten een vasten gront op geeft. (...) Al dit overleyt wesende, ick acht openbaerghenouch te sijn, ghebreck van overvloet der ervaringen, oirsaeck te wesen dat de menschen met groote 139 moeyte en hooftbreking, hun tijt overbrenghen met te soucken Hemelloopsche gedaenten die alsoo niet vindelick en sijn.1037 [In the first place, we lack very many actual experiences, necessary to give the arts a firm foundation (...) Considering this, I think it is clear enough, that the lack of abundant experiences, is the cause that people with great difficulty and headaches, spend their time looking for the shapes of the heavenly movements because they cannot be found]. According to him, the lack of sufficient observations is one of the main causes of the deplorable state of affairs in contemporary science.1038 For example, a small number of observations of the sky does not provide knowledge that is certain. Several considerations play a role in this. To begin with, a single human being cannot observe day and night, year after year. Even if it were possible, the observations of one person are insufficient to build up the ‘spiegeling’ because the observation has not been tested. Subsequently, there are always annoying conditions (such as clouds) that obstruct an observation. And finally, Stevin suspects that a few people will always tend to keep their observations secret. On the other hand, competition between scholars can lead to their observations being made public more quickly. His conclusion is that only through a huge number of observations, with a large number of people writing down their experiences over a long period of time, can scholars find the principles hidden in Nature.1039 He asks the reader to inform him about finds. In this context, it is understandable that Stevin apologizes several times in his work for ‘slechts de stand van de kennis’ [merely presenting the state of knowledge]. These are by no means polite phrases but concern his scientific point of view.1040 As for example in his architectural treatise, when he writes about the flooding of polders and refers to the annual flooding of the Nile: Ick heb eenighe die in AEgypten gheweest sijn ondervraecht of sy niet gagheslaghen en hadden of hooren seggen, hoet nu ter tijdt daer mette voorschreven dingen toegaet, maer seyden datse niet op ghelet noch af vernomen en hadden. Oock hebben eenighe die daer t’schepe handelen my wel toe gheseydt van dies bescheydt te doen weten, maer tot noch toe en isser niet afghecommen. Soo ymandt dieder gheleghentheydt toe weet, sulcx vernemen conde, ‘t mocht sijn datmen daer yet uyt soude connens verstaen tot voordeel streckende.1041 [I have questioned some of those who have been in Egypt whether they had not observed or heard how things were going at the present time, but they said that they had neither paid attention nor heard anything. Also, some of the people who trade with ships there have 140 promised me to have an opinion about it, but so far nothing has happened. If anyone has the opportunity, it may be that they can understand something that could be of benefit]. However, one cannot stop at observations. These should also be recorded, collected and transferred. Therefore – secondly – a generally useful language should be available in which all experiences are formulated. Especially the use of Latin as a scientific language makes Stevin fear the worst for restoring science to its former glory. Latin is not widely appreciated. Furthermore, many parents let their children learn Latin as a matter of course because this language is used in the artes liberales. As a result, young people turn to subjects such as law, theology or medicine and later spend their time practicing and remembering Latin verses to be able to utter a nice saying or phrase when it comes in handy.1042 This implies that few will devote themselves to classical science (‘wisconsten’). Stevin refers in this context to Tycho Brahe (whom he refers to as ‘Gaslager’, [observer]) who, contrary to the wishes of his parents, did study mathematics. 1043 Therefore, in order for knowledge to grow, increase and spread, it is better to use the vernacular. That way everyone can write down their own observations.1044 While polemicizing with Latin, Greek and also French, Stevin additionally concludes that the Dutch language is the most suitable scientific language. In doing so, he goes against the opinion of many who believe, for example, that French is the best language. Such an opinion proves, according to Stevin, that although they know the French language, they have no awareness of the requirements that a good language must meet. Stevin compares this with the misconception that, because all Turkish believers are convinced of the holiness and religious certainty of ‘Mahomet’ [Muhammad], one must also believe that this is true. Knowledge of holiness, like knowledge of the goodness of a language, does not require faith but knowledge of its properties.1045 After all, one of the most important and useful characteristics of any language is its ability to form words. Letters to letters ‘baren’ [give birth] to words and words can be merged into new words.1046 This miraculous quality leads human beings to make new words of their own accord that they had never heard before: 1047 ... ende daer toe en behouft hy gheen gheleerde te sijne, noch hem lang te bedencken, maer de leecken worden, duer de wonderlicke eyghenschap des taels, van selfs daertoe ghedronghen. Ten is den hoorenden oock gheen nieu noch vreemt woort, hoewel hy dat van te vooren noyt ghehoort en had, reden dat sulcke niet alleen duer de ghewoonte verstaen en worden, maer uyt den ghemeenen aert der gheluyden, welcke d’oude Duytschen soo constelick daertoe ghevonden hebben, dat ick, met al de ghene die van d’oirsaeck niet meer en weten, ons alsvoren noch met recht mueghen verwonderen duer wat middelen dat mach gheschiet sijn. [... and one need not be a scholar, nor think long about it, for the laity, by the wonderful 141 property of language, are innately brought to it. Nor is it a new or strange word to the listener, although he has never heard it before, which is the reason why such words are not only understood by custom, but arise from the general nature of sounds, the rules of whose art were found by the ancient Dutch, that I, with all who know nothing of the cause, may yet, as before, justly wonder by what means this may have been done]. Especially Dutch excels in this, according to Stevin, because this language has the gift of forming many monosyllabic words, an argument that is already of older date.1048 Moreover, Dutch is very suitable for generating new words by merging them. For example, a ‘glasveinster’ (a window fitted with glass) differs from a ‘veinsterglas’ (this is not a glass to drink from, but the glass of a window).1049 The difference lies in the fact that sometimes a word serves as ‘grond’ [ground] and sometimes as ‘anclevingh’ [addition, adjective]. Nature can therefore best express its hidden qualities through inborn sounds that lead to the best words in Dutch (‘het Duytsch’). That is why Nature has designated this language as the most original, purest and dignified.1050 As a Fleming, Stevin sees that in North-Holland the most ‘suyver onvermengt Duytsch’ [pure, unblended Dutch] in terms of ‘de eensilbicheyt soo volcommelick’ [the perfectly monosyllabic] is spoken.1051 From this source all the later languages emerged, Stevin believes. Stevin considers French in particular to be an impure receptacle of all kinds of languages. 1052 This recalls similar views of the Antwerp physician Ioannes Gropius Becanus, who considered ‘de Duytsch’ to be the oldest language. 1053 Stevin’s revaluation of the vernacular, however, cannot be dissociated from a more general Renaissance pursuit of the use of the ‘volgare’ in writings (see Ramus, Alberti, Petrarch), although many scholars continue to publish in Latin. 1054 Stevin’s description of the efficacy of Nature in language is illustrative of his scientific attitude in general. His train of thought gives an insight into the connections he makes between the things in the world around him.1055 Drawing is another, but equally certain way of collecting experiences.1056 Stevin assumes, just like Plato, that we ‘gheen wesentlicke saeck self en sien, maer alleenlick sijn schaeu’ [see no essential thing itself, but only its shadow]. He mentions this question between the lines, namely in his explanation of the Dutch words ‘Anschauwen’ and ‘Ansien’, but this philosophical question has no further consequences for his conception of the drawing.1057 A similar point of view on the importance of the art of drawing for the collection of knowledge can be seen in other circuits later in the seventeenth century. Van Hoogstraten (1678) underlines the general importance of the art of drawing to record knowledge, referring to the master builder, the fortress builder and the sovereign, but also to the traveler, historian, physician and astronomer. 1058 Through the drawing the knowledge of the world comes within reach and inside the house, according to a statement by Biens (1637): ‘Door dese Conste bewandelen ende sien wij de plaesierichste 142 landouwen der weerelt ende blijven niet te min binnen onse studoor’ [By this Art we stroll and see the most pleasant regions of the world and remain within our study].1059 Stevin gives the example of a coastal profile. Given the special nature of a coastal profile, this can be noted in a map. A map contains visible knowledge that one can call upon at sea to compare with unknown coasts while looking. A large river delta on the map means fertile land, where people choose their houses and so prosperous towns inland are to be expected. Drawings showing the course of the stars (to be compared to a certain night sky) and maps showing towns (to be compared to towns one has in mind) offer certainty in a similar way.1060 T’gaet hier me, op dat ick deur voorbeelt van Eertclootsche stof noch opentlicker verclare, als met eenen varende langs de cant vant *onbekende Zuytlandt [Terra incognita Australia], en siende de mont van een groote rivier daer uyt aldus beslote: Langs groote rivieren sijn vruchtbaer landen: In vruchtbaer landen langs groote rivieren verkiesen menschen haer wooning: Daer veel menschen woonen geraken goede Steden: Daerom an die rivier legghen groote welvarende Steden. En of hy voort op sulck ghestelde (deur een ghesien deel vant heel besluytende) sulcke Landen en Steden in caerte teyckende, denckt eens wat sekerheyt of ghelijckheyt die mette Landen soude hebben, en hoe sulcke caerten en schriften souden overcommen mettet ghene men daer na dadelick sage, want daer deur machmen met een verstaen, wat sekerheyt datter can wesen in besluyt van eens Dwaelders heelen loop, uyt een ghesien deel ghetrocken, en hoe dat sulcke reghelen en schriften souden connen overcommen mettet ghene wy daer na dadelick sien. [It goes on with this, whereby I will explain this more clearly by an example from the Eertclootsche fabric [Geography], as in case someone sails along the side of unknown Southland [Terra incognita Australia], and sees the mouth of a great river, concludes therefrom: Along great rivers are fertile lands: In fertile lands along great rivers people prefer their habitation: Where many people live good Towns appear: Therefore, along that river there are great prosperous Towns. And that he furthermore on the basis of this observation (by an observed part of the whole) will draw such Lands and Towns in a map, consider what certainty or agreement that would have with these Lands, and how such maps and writings would coincide with that which is seen therein in reality, for by this one can at once understand, what certainty there can be in the inference as to the movement of a Planet, when drawn from the observation of a part, and how that such lines and writings could correspond to that which we actually see there after]. Thus, for Stevin, the art of drawing appears to be suitable means of learning about the world and transmitting knowledge. Or, as Melion describes the importance of drawing in another context: ‘By encompassing the visual world as representation, teyckenconst [the art of drawing] strips nature of hidden meanings, reconstituting 143 her as verclaringhe (clarification, knowledge). This is why teyckenconst is useful to all stations, ages, and conditions of men’.1061 Given an extensive collection of observations, the principles of Nature can be traced and take the form of an art, understood as knowledge system. According to Stevin, many arts have been generated in this way in the past: Euclid gave shape to geometry and Ptolemy to astrology, Hippocrates and Galen to medicine and Aristotle to dialectics (the art of proving).1062 The third aspect of any art is that it has the right method to arrive at that form. 1063 Stevin speaks of ‘weg’ [road] or ‘orde’ [order] which believes is once again to be found in Nature.1064 The natural order automatically leads to a complete knowledge. Stevin considers the ‘dialectike’ (‘bewijsconst’) or argumentation to be the general and natural method to be followed in any art (including rhetoric). Logical ordering is innate to human beings. After all, the possession of reason makes him (learned or unlearned) different from the animal.1065 As a result, human beings can define and order unknown things, accept good arguments and reject incorrect ones. Dialectic is: ... Materie voorwaer weerdich, dat de weerdige groote lichté des werelts, hemlieden in haer so vlietelick geoeffent hebben, want nadien de Reden het merckelickste onderscheyt is, daer in de Mensche vanden Beesten verschilt, ‘tgrootste ghetuychnis sijnder Heerlickheydt boven d’ander ghedierten; te rechte volherdt hy syne studie, om in die Heerlickheyt t’overtreffen; twelck eyghentlicxt gheschiedt, door dese vrye Conste, door desen wech der Consten, leydende den Mensche tot alle Consten; Maer hoe? Sy leert de onbekende duystere dinghen Definieren, de Versamelde Verspreyden, de Verwoeste Schicken, ghoede argumenten Toestaen, ende de quade (die door cieraet van woorden, ofte Sophistische ghesteltheyt der Termijnen dickmael goedt schijnen ende den onervarenen bedriegen) Verworpen; Sy doet hem met lichticheyt ende lust dor de Reden verstaen, ‘t ghene de sinnen sonder haer niet machtich en sijn te begrijpen? Sy is ‘t fondament der Rhetoriken; In somme sy brengt den Mensche tot acht, ende onder ‘tghetal der gheleerden ...1066 [...Verily worthy Matter, in which the worthy, great lights of the world have so diligently practiced, for as Reason is the most remarkable distinction, in which Men differ from Beasts, is the greatest testimony of his distinguishedness above the other Animals; rightly persevering in his studies, to surpass that distinguishedness; which is done, by the very nature of things, by these free Arts, by this way of the Arts, which leads Men to all Arts; But how? It teaches to Define the unknown, the obscure, to Spread the Collected, to Solve the Confused, to Allow good arguments, and to Reject bad ones (which often seem good by the ornamentation of words, or the Sophistic fallacy, and thus deceive the inexperienced); it makes him understand with lightness and pleasure by reason, what the senses without 144 reason are not capable of understanding? It is the foundation of the Rhetoric; in short, it brings Man to esteem, and ranks him among the many scholars]. For the arts, Stevin advocates mathematical proof (Mathematico stylo) because it is in this form that the natural method gives the most certainty. 1067 He is referring to the step-by-step construction in Euclid’s Elements 1068. Stevin is far from being the only one to use the term more geometrico. He shares this approach with Hugo de Groot, in his Inleydinge tot de Hollandsche Rechts-kneleerdheid (1631),1069 René Descartes, Over de methode (1637)1070 and Baruch de Spinoza, Ethica (1677),1071 but also with Petrus Ramus (1515-1572).1072 In the Wysentijt, Stevin elaborates on the mathematical method. He indicates three aspects. 1073 The first two concern the use of artificial words at the beginning of a scientific argument. The third aspect concerns the structure of the argument as a whole. In general, Stevin thinks it is beneficial that all the arts have their own concepts. We already saw that he attributes a special power to Dutch in that respect. Because in order to think one needs a limited number of short, powerful but above all appropriate ‘kunst woorden’ [art words].1074 That is why Stevin considers the term ‘evenredig’ [equal ratio], for example, to be more appropriate than the meaningless ‘proportion’.1075 Want die t’woort everedenheyt, genomé heeft het uytheems Proportie. Want die t’woort Everedenheyt uytspreken, hun comt inde sin te seggé, hier en sijn geen even redenenen, hoe souder dan everedenheyt wesen? welcké inval den genen soo niet en ontmoet, die altijt t’onverstaen woort proportie inde mont hebbé. [See the word everedenheyt, which is taken from the exotic Proportion. For he who pronounces the word Everedenheyt, it comes into their minds to say, herein and there are no equal reasons, so how would there be everedenheyt? While that thought does not occur to them when they put the incomprehensible word proportion in their mouths]. Art words are terms that distinguish themselves from everyday language. They are, on the one hand, short and tailored to the case at hand and, on the other hand, they are applied in the same way in similar cases. If one knows the concepts one uses in an art, one can then speak to each other. Stevin explains in the Wysentijt how he, by the nature of things, came to this. He describes how he went to ask the artisans what words they used. Knowing that, he was able to speak to them as if he had been in the business for years.1076 This natural method, which Stevin learned about in the artisanal arts, is equally valid for the liberal arts. The terms ‘lijcksijdichedt’ and ‘vrylicht’ introduced by Stevin in his architectural treatise are a telling example of this. Furthermore, it is a wise idea to put these concepts together with their definitions at the beginning of the actual argument. 1077 In 145 Stercktenbouwing, for example, but also in Beghinselen der Weeghconst, he presents in advance determinations of the terms he is going to use. 1078 The third aspect concerns the orderly arrangement of the writing. Stevin defends the usefulness of an orderly argument by pointing out the difficulties arising from a disordered argument in which explaining the rules is mixed with practicing them. Both pupil and scholar (‘Vinder’, [Inventore]) and practitioner (‘Doender’, [Efficiens]) suffer from a mixed set-up.1079 In that case, the reader has to consider the reasoning as a whole over and over again.1080 ... want den *Doender [Efficiens] wort telckens ghedronghen het hooft te breken mettet bewijs te verstaen, t’welck dickwils niet sonder diepe ghedachten, noch deursending tot ander voorstellen begrepen en wort, veroirsakende yder mael alsmen yet te wercken heeft sulcken warring en swaricheyt, dattet niet te verwonderen en is veel leeringhen haest daer uyt te scheyden, en daer af te oirdeelen alsvooren. (...). Soo wy in dadelicke *menichvulding, deelen, of worteltrecking der ghetalen, geduerlick moeste bedencken en verstaen het lanck en beswaerlick bewijs, waerom sulcke form van wercking een warachtich besluyt voort brengt; denckt eens wat al onnoodighe verdrietighe haspeling wy int rekenen hebben souden, eer wy cregen een *uytbreng, mael, of wortel, want daer deur canmen lichtelick verstaen wat onnoodighe verdrietighe haspeling datter in ander wisconstighe voorstellen valt, daermen dergehlijcke doet. [… for the practitioner *Doender [Efficiens] is forced each time to break his head to understand the proof, which often cannot be understood without deep thought, nor without reference to other propositions, which causes such confusion and distress each time one sets to work, that it is not to be wondered at that many students almost want out, and judge of it as reported above (...). So, if we in actually with numbers multiply, divide or root, constantly have to think through the long and difficult proof and understand, why such form of operation produces a reliable solution; think how much unnecessary, annoying chaos we would have in arithmetic, before we have an outcome, such as the product or the root, because by this one can easily understand what unnecessary, annoying disorder there will be in other mathematical proposals if one does such a thing]. A proper structure consists of argumentation, then the exercise material, and finally the possible disagreements that result, in accordance with the classical view.1081 This also explains why, for example, in Stevin’s architectural treatise the five points of contention (about columns and dimensional ratios, among other things) are separate from the actual explanation. 1082 In other treatises, such as in Stercktenbouwing and Leghermetingh, the same thing happens. Sometimes these are ‘strijdvragen’ [questions of conflict] between scholars. Sometimes he presents his own arguments to refute previously discussed knowledge that is traditionally held in high esteem. Van Eck ascribes a similar status to the long misunderstood tenth and final chapter in Alberti’s De Re Aedificatoria.1083 Stevin explains the 146 advantage of such an order on the basis of his experience with Prince Maurits. Once the prince had understood the inner coherence of the rules, he could limit himself to doing exercises. 1084 The question is how, according to Stevin, the order should be built up. In Alberti’s case, as Van Eck recently demonstrated, the structure of the architectural treatise (and this also applies to his treatise on painting, Della Pittura) is determined by a rhetorical arrangement in which eloquence goes hand in hand with an ordered treatment of arguments.1085 In both cases, Alberti presents the subject matter to be covered (building and painting, respectively) according to a model similar to tracts on rhetoric or treatises on productive arts. In Della Pittura’s three-part set up, first the basic principles are dealt with (elementa), then the rules and regulations (ars) and finally how the rhetorician should put the rules of the art into practice (artifex). Mastery means that the orator can practice both. In the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, however, the rhetoric took on a different form.1086 Although Peter Ramus (1515-1572) is often seen as a central reformer, this is mainly the effect of his many publications. In that sense, his work is overestimated. 1087 Works by Rudolf Agricola (1444-1485), Philip Melanchton (1497-1560) and Johannes Sturm (1505-1589) have all been important for the transformation of rhetoric in this period. The paths of eloquence (rhetoric) and argumentation (dialectics) diverge and are eventually identified with poetics and science respectively. Spies points out that this split, in which the rhetoric merges into literary eloquence (which created an influx of ‘occasional verses’ [epideictic poems] in Holland around 1630), is certainly not shared by everyone in what was then Holland. Vossius, for example, does not accept the equation between rhetoric and poetry. This change is also evident in Stevin’s work. In his Dialectike (in which he also deals with medieval syllogisms) he announces a separate work on rhetoric, and his conception of science is also colored by it.1088 Stevin stated that he had taken his mathematical method [Mathematicum more] from Euclid and then split that method into two parts. The first part comprises a general proposal (‘vertogen’ [discourses], [Theoremata]), the second the confirmation of it in a special example (‘werkstukken’, works, [Problemata]). The latter is completed in four steps: the given, the requested, the work and the proof.1089 De *beginselen [Elementa] van Euclides die om merckelicke redenen vermoet worden overblijfsels des Wysentijt te wesen (...), sijn ghedeelt in *voorstellen [Propositiones] van tweederley ghedaente, te weten *vertooghen, en werckstucken [Theoremata & problemata], die verscheyden leden hebben: Ten eersten ghemeen voorstel, t’welck daer nae bevesticht wort deur besonder voorbeelt inhoudende *Ghegheven, Begheerde, Werck, en Bewijs [Datum, Quasitum, Constructionem & Demonstrationem]. En hoe wel eenighe uytlegghers 147 van Euclides dese leden vermenghen, bewijsende al werckende, soo en wort daer me (t’welck ick niet en segh tot ymants vercleening, maer om t’voornemen te verclaren) d’oirden des Wysentijts niet ghevolght: Want na dien de voorstellen der ouden leden hadden, sy moesten verscheydelick gestelt worden, anders en sijnt gheen leden: T’gaet hier me als met een wassen beelt, hebbende hooft, aermen, en beenen, sooment smelt, ten sijn dan gheen leden, hoewelder de selve stof al is. [The *principles [Elementa] of Euclid which for obvious reasons are suspected to be a relic of the Age of Wisdom (...), are divided into two kinds of *propositions [Propositiones], namely *discourses, and works [Theoremata & problemata], which have distinct parts: First, the general proposition, which is afterwards confirmed by a special example, consisting of *Given, Demanded, Werck, and Proof [Datum, Quasitum, Constructionem & Demonstrationem]. And though some commentators of Euclid mix up these parts, by proving while working, by this (which I do not say to belittle anyone, but to explain my endeavor) the methods of the Age of Wisdom are not followed: Because, according to the method of the ancients, it consists of parts, these parts must be treated separately, otherwise they are not parts: It is with this as with a wax statue, which has a head, arms, and legs, while if one melts it then there are no more members, though the substance is the same]. In his French Arithmetique, Stevin applies this dichotomy by distinguishing between a first book (Definitions) and a second book (L'Operation).1090 According to Stevin, this ‘tweescheiding’ [Dichotomia] allows the parts to be handled correctly. The separation ensures that the substance is discussed in all its properties. And it also guarantees that what naturally happens first, of course, is treated first. The argumentation thus continues on the basis of what has already been explained and is proven.1091 In Ramus’ adaptation of Euclid there is a similar descent from the general to the particular. Van Berkel and Van den Heuvel pointed out the possible influence on Stevin’s thinking of Petrus Ramus (15151572) and his new pedagogical method, this in line with ideas by Verdonk (1969) and Dijksterhuis (1943).1092 Verdonk indicated some similarities between the two works. Both had strong didactic interests, both considered the use of the same words to be necessary; both believed that theory and practice should go hand in hand; both advocated vernacular, both were convinced of an early age of scientific blossoming; both were critical of ‘authorities’, in favor of individual consideration and experience.1093 But Verdonk also mentions differences. Ramus always merged theory and practice, while Stevin treats ‘Spiegeling’ and ‘Daet’ separately as a matter of principle; Stevin is in favor of an Euclidean order (Ramus against); for a prior definition of the terms (Ramus does this only where it is necessary); Stevin considers the division to be suitable if the substance allows it, and therefore he is against an overly dogmatic application of the division.1094 Verdonk concluded that despite all the similarities between Ramus and Stevin, it does not prove that Stevin was a ramist: most of the similarities (with the exception of the 148 ‘dichotomies’) are more or less commonplace. 1095 Although Van den Heuvel acknowledges that Stevin is mostly critical of Ramus, he still intended to demonstrate Ramus’ ‘influence’ on Stevin’s ‘method’ in the architecture of house, block and town.1096 At the beginning of a treatise, prior to the definitions of the terms, Stevin often includes a clear table. This ‘cortbegryp’, a clear table of content, is a variant of the ramist résumé (bp.2.38.1).1097 Ong typified Ramus’ visualization once as a manifestation of a new attitude towards space, which has left its mark in all kinds of areas of the arts and sciences. ‘Spatial constructs and methods were becoming increasingly critical in intellectual development. The changing attitude manifested itself in the development of printing, in the new Copernican way of thinking about space which would lead to Newtonian physics, in the evolution of the painter’s vision, climaxed by Jan van Eyck’s use of the picture frame as a diagram and in the topical logics of Rudolf Agricola and Ramus, as well as in other phenomena’.1098 Yates, however, sees the ramist résumé (or Stevin’s ‘table’) as a transitional form ‘between the visually ordered and schematized design of a manuscript and the printed book’. In doing so, she rejects Ong’s view that ‘this spatial visualization to learn by heart was a new development, which only became possible with the introduction of the printed book’.1099 Although Stevin claims to have borrowed the ordering principle of ‘tweescheiding’ from writings by Plato (Politico)1100 and Aristotle (‘int 1 Bouck vande delen der dieren’, [in the first Book on Animals]), in his opinion these authors did not sufficiently apply it. 1101 This is in contrast to Euclid, who in his work always builds up the evidence on previous definitions and thus openly applies the methodical dichotomy. On the other hand, Stevin advocates caution in the use of this principle. With Peter Ramus, although he recognizes his striving for order,1102 he notices a compulsive application of this tool. If one takes too much pleasure in this dichotomy, one is forced to separate and define things that are irrelevant for the acquisition of knowledge. Instead of supporting the natural order, this principle disadvantages art as an ordered system. Moreover, one wastes his time: ‘Oock die hem selven inde tweevuldighe te seer behaghen, vinden hun ten eynde bedwongen vele onnoodighe Definitien ende Propositien te beschrijven, onbequeme tot de leere, als onbedachttich datmen de Conste niet en beschrijft, om datter een Tweevuldighe Verspreydinghe in soude blijcken’ [Even he who takes great pleasure in the twofoldness, see himself finally forced to describe many unnecessary Definitions and Propositions, which is inappropriate to the doctrine, and ill-considered because one describes the Art only because it would show a Twofold Dispersion].1103 Because of the cumbersomeness of this rule, Stevin sometimes puts his own rule out of action where necessary.1104 Stevin considers art to be a system of general rules that are easy to learn because of their proper order. This learning rests on two pillars. First of all, it presupposes 149 a natural predisposition. A student must have an innate ability and appropriate talents (ingenium) to learn the rules. After all, talents and passions are unevenly distributed among human beings. Some are more at ease in thinking without matter, others are more at ease in practical action.1105 This also explains Stevin’s remark that only a pupil who naturally takes pleasure in ‘lijcksijdicheydt’ is fit to practice the rules of architecture. As an example, Stevin refers to Prince Maurice's musings on his natural tendency to build congruent fortified towns: ‘Ick gevoel in my genegenheid, van bolwercken en wallen op d’een sijde der Steden soo te veroirdenen, als op d’ander, en wanneer ick deur ongelegentheydt der plaets anders moet doen, dat gaet my tegen ‘thart. Ick en weet niet of ick my selven met ongegronde dingen quelle of dattet eenighe natuerlicke reden heeft’ [I notice in myself an inclination to establish strongholds and ramparts on one side of the Towns, in the same manner as those on the other side, and if I have to do something different due to circumstances of the location, it goes against my heart. I do not know whether I torment myself with unfounded things, or whether it has a natural reason].1106 Stevin strongly advises those who miss this pleasure to become a master builder: d’Oirsaeck waerom ick hier mette Lijcksijdicheydt begin, is om de gene die uytter natuer daer in geen behaghen en hebben, metten eersten te waerschouwen, dat sy haren tyt niet en verliesen met hemlien in handel van bouconstige oirdening te oeffenen (...) alsoo behooren de gene die deur onvolcommenheyt der natuer, inde Lycksijdicheydt geen behagen en hebben, hun daer niet te becommeren met in Boumeesters ampt te treden, als daer toe onbequaem wesende.1107 [The cause why I begin with the congruity, is to warn directly those who from Nature do not take pleasure in it, that they do not lose themselves in exercising themselves in the matter of the architectural order (...) Those who through imperfection of Nature, do not take pleasure in the congruity, they should not concern themselves to enter into the position of the Master Builder, because they are incompetent to do so]. But natural aptitude alone is not enough. Exercise breeds art, or as Van Mander writes, ‘door veel doen/ en herdoen/ met langhe tijden’ [by doing a lot/and redoing/ for hours].1108 Thinking about an ars is embedded in thinking about innate qualities on the one hand and learnable things on the other, for example in the art of drawing.1109 The student must continually exercise the material 150 (exercitatio).1110 An ordered curriculum, the use of artificial words and the use of numbers are very helpful to memory.1111 Stevin’s distinction between ‘spiegeling’ and ‘daet’ takes on meaning within this conception of the arts. Like any other art, architecture must adhere to its principles. The reflection that comes from the study of the art of architecture – art interpreted by Stevin as ‘een oirdentlick geketend werck’ [an orderly chained work] – leads by definition to ‘volkomen’ [complete, perfect] insights.1112 On the one hand, because it follows a method consisting of coherent rules and principles. On the other hand, because, by its very nature, it has no relation to any matter. 1113 The ‘dead’ [action], on the other hand, is basically imperfect because of her handling of the mater.1114 Both in his Wysentijt and elsewhere, Stevin argues for keeping reflection and action strictly separate. 1115 As it turned out, this is partly a matter of didactics. When reflection and action are mixed, the student does not know what belongs to the argument and what to the application. As a result, the system of rules as a whole eludes him. With the result that he eludes the system of rules as a whole.1116 And in part, it’s a matter of practice. If the student has no understanding of the system of rules, he will also have no understanding on the whole of all possible relations. He then lacks a solid ground with respect to matter.1117 He is then unable to systematically and as adequately as possible meet the peculiarities of the matter.1118 De eyghenschap en ‘t eynde der Spiegeling is datse vestreckt tot seker gront vande manier der wercking inde daet, alwaermen deur nauwer en moeyelicker toesicht de volcommenheyt der Spiegheling so na mach commen, als de saecks einde tot Smenschen ghebruyck vereyscht. [The property and purpose of the Reflection is that it provides a certain grounding for the method of working in practice, where, by sharp and heavy supervision, one must come as close to the perfection of the Reflection as the purpose of the case for the benefit of human use requires]. Becoming a master of action, presupposes one is a master of reflection. But the reverse is not true: someone can be master of reflection, without possessing knowledge of any matter. Stevin here refers to Euclid and other theorists. Contrary to what current literature often claims, Stevin’s words nowhere show that he makes the reflection subservient to action. Precisely his definition of reflection (as a perfect arrangement of rules) and of action (which, due to the variety of substances, is by nature always imperfect), makes this an irrelevant point of view. Van Eck confirms that others – such as Gherardo Spini in his work I tre primi ... intorno agl'ornamento (1569) – employ this way of thinking, for 151 example in the art of building (bp.2.31.5). ‘According to Spini, architecture does not consist of the act of building, but of the knowledge of the nature of everything connected with it. Practice without theory is worth nothing; art (arte) differs from experience because experience is about individual cases or observations, whereas art, conceived here as a science in the Aristotelian sense, deals with universal principles derived from experience. The one who has knowledge of an art is able to teach, to judge, and to design in their mind, because he knows the causes of things’.1119 One cannot therefore reduce Stevin’s views and those of others to the proposition that the reflection is ‘applied’ in the act, that it gets its completion in the act, and that – if such an application fails – his theory would therefore be incorrect.1120 Such paraphrasing rests on the modern idea that there exists a hierarchy between reflection and action.1121 For Stevin, an imperfection between ‘theory’ and ‘practice,’ on the contrary, indicates a lack of understanding of their relationship. He gives an example from mathematics: Hier uyt is te verstaen, dat wanneer sommighe de *Wisconsten [mathematica artes] van onvolcommenheyt beschuldighen, deur dien veel dadelicke werckinghen niet heel effen uyt en commen, datter kennis gebreeckt des onderscheyts tusschen Spiegheling en Daet, tussen Wisconstighen en tuychwerckelicken handel: Want de Daet of *tuychwerckelicken handel [Mechanicam] om de boveschreven redenen altijt onvolcommen moet wesen.1122 [From this it may be understood, that when some accuse the *Mathematics [mathematica artes] of imperfection, because many practical workings do not come out very precisely, that knowledge is lacking about the difference between Reflection and Action, between Mathematics and Mechanics: For the Action or *mechanical trade [Mechanicam] must always be imperfect because of the reasons previously described]. In his conception of reflection, thinking and acting form an inseparable whole, a conception that Stevin shares with other writers. Geertman recognizes this as one of the starting points in the architectural thinking of Vitruvius.1123 In Stevin’s case, putting knowledge into practice means that the peculiarities of the substances are handled and related to each other in an appropriate manner on the basis of constructional principles. ‘This is not a negation of the system, but a complementary act, aimed at protecting the system from itself,’ says Geertman on the same issue at Vitruvius.1124 This last one wrote: Once the system of balanced proportions has been established and calculations have worked out the proportions, it is the task of a sensible architect to make adjustments to the nature of the terrain, its use or its appearance by reducing or enlarging it. Provided that, if 152 the balanced proportions have been reduced or enlarged slightly, this has been given the right shape and the appearance leaves nothing to be desired.1125 Thus, we see that Vitruvius, Stevin, and other authors of the pre-modern era regularly comment on practical implementation and its imperfections. However, these remarks are not about whether the theory is complete (after all, it is), but about whether the architect has the right capacities. Aristotle takes a similar view in his Ethics when he says: ‘Furthermore, it is through the same causes, through the same actions, that every excellence arises or perishes. This is also the case with technical skills: playing the zither creates both good and bad zither players. The same goes for master builders and all other professions: by building good one becomes a good master builder, by building bad one becomes a bad one. Otherwise, we wouldn’t need a teacher at all, and everyone would be a good or bad craftsman from birth’.1126 Only a wise and sensible architect is able to involve the reflection (the knowledge system) in the act (the design in practice) in a balanced way.1127 Stevin mentions (just like Vitruvius), three ‘causes’ that make a realization always imperfect: human beings, the physical surface and the eye. Master builders should anticipate variations in the habitation of a house. Sometimes one family lives there, sometimes two families live in a house, sometimes an inn has to be made of it. Furthermore, they must be able to assess the various types of subsoil in terms of their advantages and disadvantages. The surface is not always flat, not always dry or does not always allow digging in. The architect should also have knowledge of the instruments needed to make a drawing in the field, given the subsurface.1128 Finally, Stevin devotes attention to the deformations caused by the eye. When building, the architect always has to deal with optical illusions.1129 This issue –the unreliability of the eye and the ‘appropriate’ interpretation of strict rules – has been a recurring item in architectural thinking about the action from Vitruvius onwards.1130 In his Deursichtighe, Stevin deals with the refraction of vision rays in water and experiments with his eye that gives different images when it is pushed or pulled. Stevin also discusses Vitruvius’ question as to whether columns in a row should be placed at the same distance from each other (in the drawing), or whether (taking into account the optical illusion in reality) the intercolomnium should be adapted so that they appear to the eye as if they were at the same distance from each other. 1131 Stevin believes that people are approaching this problem incorrectly. If you place the columns at the same distance from the eye and from each other, they will automatically get their right place on the eye.1132 I will return to the question of whether ‘perspective’ in early modern 153 times should be understood as ‘correct or objective representation’ in Chapter 4.1133 In short: the architect is only a master when he has the right talents, uses them well, is highly skilled and is responsible for the building.1134 The master builder must be aware of all the fabrics he is working on. Vitruvius already discusses the areas of knowledge that a wise architect needs to master. He mentions general skills such as reading, writing and drawing. In addition, knowledge of natural philosophy is useful for the architect. Not only does this knowledge prevent the architect from becoming arrogant, but it also gives him insight into the properties of Nature. Furthermore, the architect should have knowledge of history and law, medicine, music, astronomy and optics. Geometry and arithmetic serve both to calculate construction costs and to obtain balanced proportions.1135 ‘Their study is not done for their own sake,’ says Geertman, ‘the aspects relevant to architecture are at issue. Together, these artes liberales form the encyclios disciplina, the whole of science, of which, says Vitruvius, the architects must have a global knowledge’.1136 Many of these domains also interest Stevin. The same goes for Alberti, but to a lesser extent for Serlio and Palladio. Alberti explicitly sees the master builder as someone practiced in many arts. Alberti maintains a number of central areas of knowledge, such as natural philosophy and mathematics (geometry, arithmetic, optics and perspective, to which he includes music). What is specific about Stevin, however, is that he does not see the various areas of Vitruvian knowledge as domains of architecture. He dedicates separate writings to it. Stevin writes separate works on perspective, mechanics, mathematics, singing, fortification, making army camps, astronomy, geography, shipping, technology, accounting, logic and burgher life. He is ‘a true humanist with expertise and accomplishments in various disciplines’ according to Tzonis.1137 Insofar as these areas of knowledge are of importance to the master builder, Stevin refers to his own work. For history, legal and medical knowledge he refers to writings of others. 1138 Because of the public interest, a master builder should use his knowledge wisely. And in the classic sense of the word, just as the orator also has a duty to promote the common good.1139 As an example, Stevin points out the importance of good roofs and the use of sustainable building materials. Houses can rot and whole towns can fall into disrepair due to bad constructions, bad materials, the effects of the rain, but also because owners naturally do not want to spend money on maintenance.1140 Another example concerns the application of the ornament. Knowing that openwork ornaments attract dirt (knowledge of climatic matters), knowing that they consist of precious materials (knowledge of materials and knowledge of costs) and knowing that a client is all too easily optically seduced by a perspective drawing with ornaments (knowledge of human inclinations), the sensible architect must first and foremost make the building durable. The master 154 builder’s knowledge is therefore knowledge that saves time and money. These motives regularly crop up in Stevin’s research into ‘gemeene reghels’ [general rules]. These rules ensure that ‘swaricheyd’ [troubles] of all kinds can be avoided,1141 that as little time is lost as possible, 1142 and that as little money as possible is wasted.1143 For Stevin, therefore, good knowledge is not just knowledge that is ordered and can be appropriated – it is also knowledge that benefits the public interest, comparable to the common good within rhetoric.1144 This kind of moral ‘benefit’ differs from the modern functional utility notion.1145 Such as, for example, the geometry of which the public benefit is demonstrable for Stevin: Great indeed is the benefit, nay the indispensability of Geometry. For indeed, what good thing do we not owe to it after all? Let us bear in mind a few things out of many without which life certainly cannot be lived so comfortably, nay, even not at all well. Do not the houses and the towns result from it, clothes and all furniture? And all implements, both of peace and war?1146 The scientific nature of ‘architecture’ therefore does not lie in the mathematical basis of the Renaissance and classicist design process, as is often thought. 1147 Building is an ‘art’ that presupposes perfect knowledge of Nature in all its activities. It is based on the system of rules in which the acquired knowledge of causes is described in its natural order and shown visibly. (bp.2.39.1-3). As such, architecture implies a knowledge system that becomes learnable and memorable, transferable and can be adjusted in a controllable manner. Stevin thus presents an epistemological point of view that is in principle Aristotelian. With organized knowledge about building in all its aspects, the wise architect is able to act properly in practice. But at the same time, Stevin’s treatise also complements and therefore modifies this traditional knowledge system. In the early modern period, architectural drawing generally occupies a more central place. But Stevin sees the drawing as a visibly and coherent demonstration of the knowledge the architect should have. As a result, his 'wisconstighe’ drawing is neither a design tool nor an illustration of architectural knowledge. With Stevin, it is first and foremost a means of vividly ordering and practicing methodical thinking. Through the way in which Stevin links an Aristotelian conception of science to the making of drawings according to the natural rules of the ‘wisconst’, he occupies a special place in the early modern architectural (theoretical) field is recently formulated by Van Eck. 1148 This architectural system of knowledge will again be the subject of discussion in the course of the centuries to come. In the middle of the eighteenth century it was authorized as an academic knowledge system.1149 In the meantime, the French 155 Académie Royale d’Architecture (1671) was founded. The theoretical debates are then about abstractions such as Architecture, the Columns, Beauty, Harmony, Taste and the Primal hut, debates that are also held elsewhere in Europe. Authors such as Claude Perrault (1613-88), François Blondel (1617-86), Marc-Antoine Laugier (1714-69) and Jacques-François Blondel (1705-74) will then publish their work.1150 The house is still being written about, but in the margin of the theoretical debate. In addition to the aristocratic house, attention remains focused on the country house. The court culture in both France (Louis XIV) and England (William & Mary) was focused on stately city palaces and country houses. Daniel Marot, who came from French court circles, joined William III in 1686 and had ‘influence’ on the French houses in the Netherlands. 1151 There appear treatises by A.C. d’Aviler (1691), Cours d’Architecture qui comprends les ordres de Vignole, and a little later the manuscript by R. North, Of Building (1695), as well as German writings. The work of d’Aviler is translated into German and his instructions for the aristocratic house are applied to bourgeois houses.1152 In Germany there has also been a continuous flow of writings about the agricultural country house.1153 It wasn’t until around 1800 that the house would receive disciplinary attention again. In 1790-1799 the four-volume work of F.C. Schmidt, Der bürgerliche Baumeister appears.1154 In 1802 J.N.L. Durand treats the house as an architectural object. His schemes derive from an entirely different knowledge system, one that is based on the rationalization of the design process and on the idea that architecture is a ‘good means to serve man and society’ (bp.2.40.1-3).1155 But then we are miles away from the way Stevin and other early modern authors thought about the art of architecture and the house. 156 COMPARATIVE RESEARCH EARLY MODERN ARTS [translated] dr. Heidi de Mare 2018 • 2017 • 2016 • 2012 • 2009 • 2007 • 1999 • 1994 • 1993 • 1993 • • ‘’t Is kunst te leven. Vroegmoderne verbeelding van duurzaam samenleven’, in: G. van den Brink (red.), Waartoe is Nederland op aarde? (Boom): 117-142. PDF + Beeldkatern PDF ‘“The Art of Living Well”. Early Modern Imagination of Living in a Tenable Way’ (2019). PDF + PDF Images ‘Het beeld als bron. Een beschouwing naar aanleiding van recent onderzoek naar Het straatje van Vermeer’, in: Tijdschrift voor historische geografie, no. 4 (2017): 248-259. PDF ‘The Image as historical source. Contemplation in response to recent research on The Little Street by Vermeer’ (2019). PDF Review. The Technical Image. A History of Styles in Scientific Imagery, H. Bredekamp et al. (eds.), The University of Chicago Press 2015, in: The Journal of Design History, N.Y.: 93-95. PDF ‘Vindplaats van het huiselijk leven. Het kamergezicht in de Hollandse Gouden Eeuw’, in: Historisch Tijdschrift Holland, Jaargang 44, no. 3, themanummer ‘Huiselijkheid’: 110118. ‘The Finding Place of Domestic Life. The Chamber Scape in Dutch Golden Age’ (2018). PDF ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. De kunst van interdisciplinair onderzoek’, in: Kunstlicht, Jubileumnummer ‘Kunstgeschiedenis & Interdisciplinariteit’, vol. 30, no. 3-4: 90-99. PDF ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. The Art of Interdisciplinary Research’ (2009) PDF ‘Johannes Vermeer: migratie van een icoon’ in: J. van Eijnatten et al. (red.), Heiligen of helden. Opstellen voor Willem Frijhoff, Amsterdam: 198-214. PDF ‘Johannes Vermeer: migration of an icon’ (2009) PDF ‘Domesticity in Dispute: A Reconsideration of Sources’, in: I. Cieraad (red.), At Home. Anthropology of Domestic Space (2e druk 2006). New York: 13-30 PDF; Farsi (2017). ‘A rule worth following in architecture? 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Ungers, M., ‘Ordo, fondo et mesura: the Criteria of Architecture’, in: H. Millon, The Renaissance from Brunelleschi to Michelangelo. The representation of Architecture. London 1994, pp. 306-317. Verbeek, Th., Over de methode. Meppel/ Amsterdam 1979. Verdonk, J.J., ‘Vom Einfluss des P. de la Ramée auf Simon Stevin’, in: Centaurus. International Magazine of the History of Mathematics, Science, and Technology, 13 (1969), 3-4, pp. 251-262. Vermeulen, F.A.J., Handboek tot de geschiedenis der Nederlandsche bouwkunst. II. ‘s-Gravenhage 1931. Vermeulen, F.A.J., Bouwmeesters der Klassicistische Barok in Nederland. ‘s-Gravenhage 1938. Vermeulen, F.A.J., Handboek Vovelle, M., Mentaliteitsgeschiedenis. Essays over leef- en beeldwereld. Nijmegen 1985, pp. 19-32. Vovelle, M., ‘Mentaliteitsgeschiedenis, weerstandsgeschiedenis oftewel de kerkers van de lange duur’, in: M. Vovelle, Mentaliteitsgeschiedenis. Essays over leef- en beeldwereld. Nijmegen 1985, pp. 142-169. Vries, D.J. de, Bouwen in de late Middeleeuwen. Stedelijke architectuur in het voormalige Over-en Nedersticht. Utrecht 1994. 165 Waard, C. de, Journal tenu par Isaac Beeckman de 1604 à 1634, publié ... par C. de Waard. I (1604-1619) & II (16191634). La Haye 1939-1942. Waddy, P., Seventeenth century Roman palaces. Use and the art of the plan. New York 1990. Ware, I., The Four Books of Architecture 1738. Facsimile New York 1965. Watkins, R.N., The Family in renaissance Florence. Columbia 1969. Westermann, M., ‘Wooncultuur in the Netherlands. A historiography in progress’, in: J. de Jong e.a. (ed.), Wooncultuur in de Nederlanden 1500-1800. The Art of Home in the Netherlands 1500-1800. Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek. 51. Zwolle 2000, pp. 7-33. Wiebenson, D. (ed.), Architectural theory and practice from Alberti to Ledoux. Chicago 1982. Wigley, M., ‘Untitled: The Housing of Gender’, in: B. Colomina, Sexuality and Space. Princeton 1992, pp. 326-389. Wijsenbeek-Olthuis, T., ‘Vreemd en eigen. Ontwikkelingen in de woon- en leefcultuur binnen de Hollandse steden van de zestiende tot de negentiende eeuw’, in: P. te Boekhorst e.a. (ed.), Cultuur en maatschappij in Nederland, 15001850. Meppel/ Amsterdam/ Heerlen 1992, pp. 79-107. Wilkinson, C., ‘Planning a Style for the Escorial: An Architectural Tratise for Philip of Spain’, in: Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians (1985), XLIV, pp. 37-47. Wilkinson, C., ‘Renaissance Treatises on Military Architecture and the Science of Mechanics’, in: A. Chastel & J. Guillaume (ed.), Les Traités d’ Architecture de la Renaissance. Paris 1988, pp. 466-476. Winterberg, C., Fra Luca Pacioli, Divina Proportione. Die Lehre vom goldenen Schnitt. Wien 1889. Wittkower, R., Grondslagen van de architectuur in het tijdperk van het humanisme. Nijmegen 1996 (1949). Wittkower, R., Palladio and English Palladianism. London 1974. Wright, L., Clean and Decent. The fascinating history of the bathroom & the water closet and of sundry Habits, Fashions & Accessoires of the Toilet principally Great Britain, France & America. London 1960. Yates, F.A, ‘The hermetic tradition in Renaissance science’, in: C. Singleton, Art, Science and History in the Renaissance. Baltimore 1970, pp. 255-273. Yates, F.A., Theatre of the World. London/ Henley 1978 (1969). Yates, F.A., ‘Architectural Themes’, in: AAFiles, 1 (1981), 1, pp. 29-53. Yates, F.A., De geheugenkunst. Amsterdam 1988 (1966). Zantkuijl, H.J., Bouwen in Amsterdam. Het woonhuis in de stad. Amsterdam 1993. 166 Notes Chapter 2 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. In a legal act from 1577 his age of majority is mentioned. For biographical information see RomeinVerschoor 1938-1939, pp. 7-8; Romein-Verschoor 1977, p. 184; Dijksterhuis 1943, pp. 1-64; PWS I 1955, pp. 25-34; Kox 1980, p. 1. The Bruges archivist Schoutteet reported (in 1937, on the basis of archive documents) that Stevin’s father, Anton Stevin, was ‘son of an old family of gatekeepers’ and his mother Kathelijne Hubrechts van der Poort (later wife of Joost Sayon, who also rejoiced the Bruges mayor Noël de Caron with a few natural children’, according to Romein-Verschoor). Stevin’s familiarity with Greek and Latin was evident in his defence of the Dutch language as a scientific language because it had – more than both other languages – monosyllabic words. Page long lists serve Stevin as evidence. Kox 1980, p. 1. Romein-Verschoor 1977, p. 184. Especially the suspicions about his travels through Europe (Poland) before his arrival in the Northern Netherlands have never been proven, and are only based on Stevin’s remarks about these areas. In his Wysentijt he refers to the ‘murals at the court of the King of Poland in Cracow’, and also in his architectural treatise he mentions ‘Binnen Cracow, daer mij gedenckt gesien te hebben verscheyden grooten huysen, diens veinsters ijser luyckjen hadden’ [Within Craco in Poland, when I remember having seen large houses, with windows with had small iron shutters’; in this he also mentions ‘de cluppen van Noorwegen’ [the cliffs of Norway], elsewhere he mentions dikes he saw in East Prussia, and finally, Romein-Verschoor 1977, p. 186 Stevin may have lived in Middelburg before he settled in Leiden. Romein-Verschoor 1977, p. 196: ‘Nowhere is his transition to Protestantism recorded, nor whether it was because of faith that he left Flanders' Kox 1980, pp. 3, 8. According to Stevin, religion can be particularly useful in upbringing, because threatening to punish God keeps people on the right path (see also Van Berkel 1990C, p. 51). This refers to an autonomous area that surrounded the city of Bruges. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 2; Kox 1980, p. 9. Romein-Verschoor 1977, p. 184, on the other hand, writes: ‘He started his career as a bookkeeper and cashier at an Antwerp trading house’ and on p. 186: ‘Our knowledge of his Antwerp cashierhood is derived from his own statement in the Wisconstighe Gedachtenissen of 1608. From this we also know that after the Antwerp period he still fulfilled a function in the financial management of the Free of Bruges for some time’. Van Berkel 1985, p. 16 mentions Ghent. Under the name of ‘Simon Stevinius Brugensis’. But, as Romein-Verschoor 1977, p. 187 (and p. 200) writes: ‘Neither as a student, nor as a lecturer, as used to be believed, did Stevin play a role at Leiden University’. Stevin was granted a patent for inventions several times (Kox 1980, p. 1; Doorman 1940). Also called Jan Cornets de Groot. From the tower of the Nieuwe Kerk in Delft they dropped two lead spheres of different weight (one ten times as heavy as the other), from a height of 30 feet, hitting the ground at the same time. This result was in contrast to Aristotle’s time-honored view of the fall laws. Romein-Verschoor 1977, p. 187; Kox 1980, p. 1; Mok 1988, pp. 52-55. Kox 1980, p. 7 and Devreese 1995 write that both probably carried out the trial before 1586, which meansthat they did this before Galileo performed his experiments 91589). Dijksterhuis suggests, based on Stevin’ presence in Delft, that he may have lived there during this period (1588-1590). Struik 1979, p. 69. Kox 1980, p. 7 states that Stevin is also ahead of his time in other fields of natural science: '’n the Beghinselen des Waterwichten Stevin derives a number of results that anticipate Pascal’s work. Devreese 1995, ‘Simon Stevin Brugghelinck. “Spiegheling and Daet”, p. 12. Kox 1980, pp. 3 and 7 points out that Stevin describes in his Havenvinding [Harbour Invention] 1599 how the proximity of a port can be determined on a ship without knowing the correct length. Romein-Verschoor 1997, p. 187. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 31-37. Van den Heuvel 1994B, p. 109 also bases his suspicion that Stevin was familiar with ramism. Kox 1980, p. 3. Dijksterhuis 1943, pp. 10-11 writes that from 1593 on there has certainly been contact between Prince Maurits and Stevin. In his correspondence from 1603 with the Raad van State [Council of State] Prince Maurits writes that from that moment on he wants to appoint Stevin, who has been working unpaid for ten years ‘als affteeckenaer der Quartieren in ’t Legher’ [as a quartermaster in the army] for 50 pounds a month. In 1604, as quartermaster, he earns 500 pounds a year. Furthermore, Dijksterhuis (p. 11) emphasizes that in view of the small number of references to Stevin’s presence in the State Army, one should not ‘exaggerate the idea’. 167 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 14; Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 33-37. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 18: ‘The builder, the carpenter Abraham Jansz., had bought the land from the pharmacist Jan Claesz Splinter, who had originally had a herb garden there’. Just before his death, on 2 February 1619, Dijksterhuis writes on p. 20, Stevin bought another house in The Hague: ‘seecker huys ende erve staende ende gelegen in de Nieuwe Houtstraat op het hoeckgen vant Doelstraetgen alhier' [a certain house with property located in Nieuwe Houtstraat on the corner of Doelstraat here in The Hague]. According to records, in 1627 Margareta van Mechelen, the mother of Prince Maurits’mchildren, lived in this house. Frederik (born 1612/3) was apprenticed to Jacob Beeckman in Rotterdam, but died young, Hendrick (born 1613/4), Susanna (born 29 April 1615) and a youngest daughter Levina, whose date of birth is missing. Dijksterhuis 1943, pp. 18-19 notes that no date of marriage is known. ‘However, it appears from the records of betrothal in The Hague that the betrothal of Simon Anthonis Stevin van Brugge and Catarijna Caerls van Leiden only took place on April 10, 1616’. His wife died in Leiden on 5 January 1673. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 20. Certificate in connection with an examination. Where he died is unknown. Beeckman kept a journal in which he noted (De Waard II, pp. ii and 291) that on 15 June 1624 in Hazerswoude he received part of Stevin’s bequeathed work from Stevin’s widow. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 22. Dijksterhuis 1943, pp. 22-23. In addition, fragments can be found in H. Stevin, Materiae Politicae 1649. Van den Heuvel 1994B, p. 107; Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 3, 97-98 emphasizes that the publication Vande oirdeningh der Steden contains ‘interpretations and even additions by Hendrik Stevin’ contain and must therefore be distinguished from the original text by Stevin, to be reconstructed. Idem Van den Heuvel 1995B pp. 46-47; Taverne 1984A, p. 441, writes ‘sloppily edited’. Romein-Verschoor 1977, p. 191. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 8. In 1582 by Plantijn in Antwerp published: Tafelen van Interest, in 1583 Problemata geomtrica by Joannes Bellerus in Antwerp. The Printing Works of Plantijn was later continued in Leiden by his son-in-law Frans van Ravelingen. Struik 1979, p. 66; Dijksterhuis 1943; Van Berkel 1986. Struik 1979, p. 69. Especially from Catholic circles, Stevin’s support for Copernicus attracted criticism, such as from the Ubbo Emmius, the later rector of the Groningse Hogeschool (Struik 1979 p. 71; Dijksterhuis 1943; Hooykaas 1976; Romein-Verschoor 1977; Kox 1980, pp. 7-8). Uytspraeck vande Weerdicheyt der Duytsche Tael was included in his work De Beghinselen der Weeghconst. Kox 1980, p. 5. Van den Heuvel 1995B, pp. 62-64. Van Berkel 1995, pp. 192-194 points out that Stevin shared such an idea with others, and that it was a well-known idea in classical times. Dijksterhuis 1943, pp. 317-320. Hugo de Groot also made a Latin translation of Stevins Havenvinding (Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 14; Mok 1988, pp. 49-52). Crone et al. 1955-1966. Kox 1980, p. 3. Only a few works were translated into French, Latin and English in the 17th century. Kox 1980, p. 5. Van Berkel 1995, p. 198. Van den Heuvel 1995B, p. 63. Romein-Verschoor 1977A, p. 206; Struik 1979, pp. 66 and 72; Van Berkel 1990C, pp. 51-52; Ottenheym 1999B, p. 92. Kox 1980, pp. 8-9. Van Berkel 1995, p. 196. According to Dijksterhuis 1943, pp. 11-12, in 1608 Stevin was ranked under ‘ingegneurs’ [engineers] in the list of posts within the State Army; a year earlier he had not been placed in that post, but was designated an engineer. Van Berkel 1995, p. 192, ‘Anyone who wanted to solve a mathematical, medical or natural philosophical problem dived into the books’. In Hendrick Stevin, Materiae Politicae. Burgherlicke Stoffen. Leiden 1649. Romein-Verschoor 1977, pp. 206-207 dedicated to the architecture of Stevin. Van Berkel 1990C, pp. 50-51 responds in particular to her interpretation of rationalism, which is characterized as ‘a somewhat too rosy representation’. Bakker-Schut 1942; Dijksterhuis 1943, chapter XI, ‘Bouwkunde’ [Architecture], pp. 261-269; Eimer 1961; Gutkind 1971; Konvitz 1978; Tzonis 1982; Kostof 1985; Grafe 1993. (For an overview see Appendix Town plan). Boasson & Van Giersbergen 1986 also refer to Stevin, albeit in the form of a 168 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. block of houses or his ‘ideal army camp’'. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 261. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 269. Taverne 1978 speaks of a ‘specifically Dutch situation’ (p. 40), ‘common practices in Dutch cities’ (p. 43) or ‘the Dutch mentality’ (p. 47) which Stevin does justice to in his work (p. 49). Furthermore, he makes a distinction (pp. 409-410, note 1) between a mathematical ‘ideal city’ that corresponds to a contemporary spatial-social structure and a literary-philosophical ‘utopian city’ that is primarily symbolic in nature. Van den Heuvel 1991, pp. 139-148. Roding 1993, p. 52: ‘The Netherlands had its own theorist in the field of urbanism in the person of Simon Stevin (1548-1620)’. Bosma 1979B, p. 32; Van der Hoeven & Louwe 1985, p. 58; Van den Heuvel 1991, pp. 143-146. Many foreign architectural history manuals (Germann 1980; Kruft 1985 and 1994) have so far omitted this tract. If Stevin is mentioned, it mainly concerns his military work (Schütte 1984 mentions Castrametatio, pp. 394-395; Wilkinson 1988, pp. 466-476 mentions Stevin’s writings De Stercktenbouwing). Van den Heuvel was kind enough to give me access to his manuscript (Van den Heuvel 1995A, publication 2005) from which several fragments have been taken. De Jonge 1998; Hollander 1990; Hollander 1994, pp. 144 and 153; Hollander 2001, pp. 281, 287 and. Dibbets 1998, pp. 70-71, 79. Taverne 1978; Van der Hoeve & Louwe 1985. Grafe 1993, p. 80: ‘characteristic simplicity’, ‘clear framework’. Roding 1993, p. 52: ‘He divides the city according to a grid of identical squares’, sometimes ‘a few modules are joined together’; Van der Cammen & De Klerk 1993, p. 20: ‘with the square as its basic form’, ‘strict uniformity, symmetry’; Van den Heuvel 1994B, p. 103 also speaks of 'a ‘tight grid’, p. 105: ‘the rectangular city [is] divided into square building blocks’. Roding 1993, p. 51; Lauwen 1996. Roding 1993, p. 51 refers to medieval towns, but also to fortified towns in the south of France and in the Netherlands Elburg is an example with ‘a rectangular shape and a regular street plan’. Bakker-Schut 1942; Günther 1988, pp. 184-185 (about Dürer). Dürer also places houses-with-light couryards and galleries in his city. Roding 1993, p.52: ‘good traffic handling’. Van der Cammen & De Klerk 1993, p. 19: regard Stevin’s work as ‘the first important document on urban planning and public housing in the Netherlands’; Grafe 1993, p. 80 uses terms such as ‘functional reasoning’, ‘residential and commercial buildings’, ‘ azone reserved for collective spaces’, ‘public facilities’, ‘urban districts’, ‘functional requirements imposed by the new larger-scale trade networks in the seventeenth century’, ‘urban activities’, ‘thinking about a functional order of the city’. Taverne 1978. Taverne 1990, Taverne 1994; Van den Heuvel 1994B, p. 106 emphasizes that Stevin’s city differs from ‘most of the authors of the architectural treatises of antiquity and the Italian Renaissance’. Taverne 1993, p. 11. Van den Heuvel 1994B, p. 106 writes: ‘He was not interested in an urban model in which these contradictions harmoniously merged, but in the analysis, visualisation and elaboration of the problems, as they manifested themselves on different levels’. Taverne borrowed this term from Barleus. In 1977, in ‘Architektuurtheorie lijdt onder elitaire opleiding’ [ architectural theory leads under elitist education] he writes for the first time about this ‘paradoxical’ figure in which different lines converge, later in Taverne 1990, 1994; Reinink 1979, p. 25: ‘Simon Stevin’s activities were directly related to the main challenges that the aforementioned developments in manufacturing and trade capital posed to the technicians: improvement of means of transport, developments in industry and improvement of the military apparatus’. Taverne 1990, p. 107. Already in Taverne 1984A and 1984B, he interprets Stevin’s defence in Castrametatio of a decimal classification of the army camp – which can also be found in ‘the Hebrews’ – as a sign of the biblical connotation. Ditto Roding 1993, p. 52. Taverne 1978, pp. 112-116; Roding 1993, p. 53; Grafe 1993, 80: ‘the new large-scale trade networks, the expansion-oriented trading city’; Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 33: 'Regents and merchants invested in the reclamation of lakes and pools, which turned out to be a lucrative form of money investment due to the rapidly growing population’. On p. 116, Van den Heuvel 1995A refers to Jacob Cats’ work in the field of ‘drainage works’. Taverne 1978; Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 33. 169 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. Taverne 1978, pp. 115, 277-278; Roding 1988, p. 22. Romein-Verschoor 1957, p. 12. Stevin 1649, pp. 40-128. Reinink 1979, p. 25. Van der Hoeven & Louwe 1985, p. 56; Bosma 1978, p. 93. Van den Heuvel 1995B, p. 57. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 65-66, 68-69; Van den Heuvel 1994B. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 65-66 also speaks in this context of ‘The dwelling and the city as a test setup'’ And a little further on (p. 68), he summarises that Stevin’s designs for the house, the city and the expansion of the city should not be regarded as ‘an echo of contemporary practice’ or ‘a blueprint for the future’. Romein-Verschoor 1977, p. 206. Taverne 1978, p. 45; Bosma 1979B, p. 32: ‘variations of equilateral housing blocks for the uniform construction of the ideal city’; Van den Heuvel 1995B, ‘De Huysbouw, de crychsconst en de wysentijt’ p. 59 speaks of ‘five schematic checkerboard patterns’. And so, according to various authors, Stevin gives a new, mathematical interpretation of the traditional topos that a house is actually a city: Taverne 1978, p. 45: ‘Perhaps it is the visualisation of the old topos of ancient philosophers, that the city is actually nothing more than a large house and on the other hand a house is actually a small city’. Ditto Van den Heuvel 1991, pp. 144-145; Van den Heuvel 1994B, p. 104, referring to Alberti. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 68-69: ‘In summary, we can say that Stevin’s “ordering” of architecture can only be called rational to a limited extent despite being based on logical arguments’. And further: ‘Logical and clear models, despite the incompleteness’. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 52-53. And also p. 52: ‘Privacy also counts as an important criterion for the mutual arrangement of the ancillary chambers’; Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 269. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 63. Both Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 58, Hollander 1990, p. 110 and Rang 1994, p. 123 speak in terms of ‘social order’ and ‘social connotations’. Similar assumptions can also be found in Wigley 1992. Rang 1994, pp. 121-125. Rang 1994, p. 124. Rang 1994, p. 124. Hollander 1990 speaks about Stevin in terms like ‘the disposition of chambers’, ‘its importance for the distinction between private and public’ (pp. 39, 108-109), ‘suitability’, ‘comfort’ en ‘valuable index of the consensus on how houses could best be lived in’ (p. 41). Ditto Hollander 1994, pp. 144, 153, n. 2. Hollander 2001, p. 281. Ditto Hollander 1990, pp. 124-151 and Hollander 1994. Ottenheym 1989, p. 159. Ottenheym 1993, p. 216. For Lieven de Key, see Van der Blom 1995. Ottenheym 1989, p. 18. Ottenheym 1989, p. 18. By the way, he refers to Vermeulen 1938 which sets the turning point in 1630, see Vermeulen 1941. Ottenheym also mentions the country house ‘Huis Ten Bosch’ in Maarssen, built by Jacob van Campen in 1628, for the brother-in-law of the Coymans brothers. See also Ottenheym 1989, p. 17; Meischke 1993, p. 66. Ottenheym 1989, p. 18. Ottenheym 1989, pp. 9-10 and Ottenheym 1995B, p. 7. In the meantime, a large part of this project has been realized, as evidenced by the series of monographs published on Vingboons (1989), Post (Terwen & Ottenheym 1993), Van Campen (Huisken, Ottenheym & Scwartz 1995), and recently on Huygens (Blom, Bruin & Ottenheym 1999). Ottenheym 1995B, pp. 8-9; Ottenheym 1989, p. 9. Ottenheym 1989, pp. 18-20. Ottenheym 1989, p. 91 is based on De Jong 1987. Zantkuijl 1993, p. 82. Ottenheym 1989, p. 91. Ottenheym 1989, pp. 18-20. Zantkuijl 1993, p. 89. Zantkuijl 1993, p. 82: ‘The entire development of the town hall shows that, under the influence of this form of privacy and the already mentioned “residential refinement” closely related to it, the house was becoming increasingly detached from the street'’ 170 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. Meischke 1969, p. 20; Zantkuijl 1993, p. 82. Meischke 1969, p. 20. De Waard 1942, II, pp. 111-XXI, 394-405, 291-297, 300. Stevin 1649, pp. 144-147; Taverne 1984A, pp. 441-455. For Brialmont see Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 15-16, who points out that this Belgian enigineers-officer wrote about Stevin’s military and architectural writings. Bodar 1984, p. 55 even thinks that ‘all architectural treatises are footnotes to Vitruvius’. Taverne 1978, p. 37. Taverne 1978, pp. 35, 37, 39, 41 (‘his civil engineering interest and ability to notice’), 43, 47 (‘more adapted to the Dutch mentality’). Tavern 1978, p. 48. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 78-89. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 89. Van den Heuvel 1995B, pp. 56 and 60-61. Van den Heuvel does point out a few similarities with Alberti and others. Van den Heuvel 1995B, ‘full distance’ (p. 47); Van den Heuvel 1995B, p. 56. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 109. Ditto Rome-Verschoor 1977. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 100 writes about Perrault’s 'fame as a forerunner of the modern design method’. About Perrault see Tzonis & Lefaivre 1984, p. 164: ‘Scamozzi 1615 and the Renaissance theorists had taken it for granted that the rules were “positive” or absolute, a position adopted by Blondel 1675. Perrault, on the other hand, believed that they were “arbitrary”, that they aroused admiration only by custom and because in the mind of the viewer a connection was established between the building and the authority of its powerful, aristocratic owner. This scientific definition of beauty, based on anthropological and archaeological data (Desgodetz, 1682) and on a systematic study of tracts from Antiquity and the Renaissance, was far ahead of its time’. Tzonis 1982, Het architektonies denken, pp. 88-98; Bilodeau 1997. It deals with the classical order of the columns (as a central question of architectural thinking at the time) in the French period 1650-1793. Perrault is presented as the first to criticize the naturalness of the system of proportion. Van den Heuvel 1997B, p. 55. Ottenheym 1989, pp. 10 and 159-160; Terwen 1983. Ottenheym 1989, pp. 160-161. Terwen & Ottenheym 1993, p. 216 speak of ‘balanced mathematical system’, ‘some very simple numerical proportions’; Ottenheym 1989, p. 161 mentions ‘tight mathematical principles’. Wittkower later elaborated on ‘the old myth of the non-commensurable golden section’ in several articles. Wittkower 1996, p. 170, n. 1: ‘The Changing Concept of Proportion’ (1960), ‘The Problem of the Commensurability of Ratios in the Renaissance’ (Appendix 2 in Grondslagen), and ‘Proportion in Art and Architecture'’(Appendix 4 in Grondslagen, text based on four lectures from the period 1951-1953. With reference to Wittkower (n. 5), Ottenheym writes 1991A, p. 34, n. 2: ‘The proportion that is commonly referred to as “the golden ratio” has only been applied in architectural practice in very exceptional cases. Usually when one thinks to be on the track of this ratio, which is only geometrically imaginable, in reality one is dealing with the purely arithmetical ratio 3:5, which is directly part of the harmonious series of numbers’. Ottenheym 1989, p. 161, Ottenheym 1991A, Terwen & Ottenheym 1993. Ottenheym 1989, p. 282, n. 395. Ottenheym 1989, pp. 160-161; 1991, pp. 20-21 and p. 161; Terwen & Ottenheym 1993, pp. 218-219. The drawing is included in Oude en ware beschrijving van Schieland, Municipal Archives Rotterdam. Wittkower 1996, especially Chapter 4: ‘The problem of harmonic proportion’. Terwen & Ottenheym 1993, p. 216: ‘Number ratios in particular, which are also appreciated in music as “beautiful” consonance when one adopts the measure ratios as string lengths, were of great significance’. Ottenheym 1989, p. 160; Terwen & Ottenheym 1993, p. 216; Ottenheym 1995B, p. 6. Goudeau 1995 confirms the great importance of the mathematical, scientific foundation of architecture. Terwen & Ottenheym 1993, p. 216; Ottenheym 1989, pp. 160-161. Ottenheym 1995B, p. 11. Ottenheym 1995B, pp. 5-6; De Jongh 1973, p. 111. Ottenheym 1995B, pp. 5-6. Terwen & Ottenheym 1993, p. 217. Ottenheym 1999B, p. 89; Spies 1995, pp. 227-238; Ottenheym 1997, pp. 105-125; Terwen & Ottenheym 1993. Ottenheym 1995B, p. 6; Terwen & Ottenheym, 1993, p. 220 call him a ‘learned humanist’; Van den 171 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. Heuvel 1995A, pp. 110-111. Terwen & Ottenheym 1993, p. 220, in addition to ‘Vitruvius, the standard work on the rules of classical architecture’, refer to Alberti, Serlio, Vignola, Palladio and Scamozzi. De Jongh 1973, p. 105. Terwen & Ottenheym 1993, p. 220. Ottenheym 1991B, p. 19; Ottenheym 1989, pp. 161; for the literature of Vondel and Hooft, see Spies 1995. Van den Heuvel 1995B, pp. 61-62, 64. Van den Heuvel 1994B, pp. 108-109; Van Berkel 1983A; Ottenheym 1989, p. 159; Bodar 1984, p. 63; idem Struik 1979, Mok 1988. According to Baudet 1992, pp. 111-116. Like the classical order of the columns. ‘De Nederlandse vernuftelingen waren door de bank genomen tamelijk nuchtere lieden’ [The Dutch inventors were, on the whole, rather down-to-earth people], Van Berkel writes 1995, p. 200. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 317: ‘Although this theory is completely out of the blue and it is not without surprise that Stevin’s thinking has been able to enter into such phantastic roads...’ Van Berkel suggests that humanist scholars were convinced of such a Golden Age. Only with Stevin is it incongruous, as it turns out on p. 199: ‘How seriously we should take Stevin’s reflections on the Wysentijt will never be entirely clear: with other inventors in his time, we will in any case not encounter such speculation so easily’. Bosma 1978, pp. 94-95 ‘he radically deals with the stories about the male Doric column which is six times as long as thick because the length of the man is six times the length of his foot etc!’ Bodar 1984, p. 63:’'The theory is not based on nature, as the scholar practically states’; Bosma 1978, p. 96: ‘Stevin’s critical attitude towards Vitruvius and his followers is beneficial compared to the later, almost slavish, worship of the theory books by Huygens and his circle of acquaintances'’ Israel 1996, pp. 291, 303, 408, 630. Vanpaemel 1995. For biographical details of this publisher, bookseller and writer of writings on architecture, drawing and painting as well as on theological writings, see Van den Heuvel 1997A, pp. 155-156 and Kwakkelstein 1998, pp. 17-27. Goeree 1681, p. 137. Goeree 1681, p. 129, but also p. 137 where he lists a whole series of ‘all other genera of Building Works’. Kruft 1985, p. 12. Kruft 1985, p. 17. Kruft 1985, p. 17. Forssman 1956, p. 6. Germann 1980; Günther 1988; Hart 1998; Van Eck 1998. Wiebenson 1982; Schütte 1984. Van Eck 1998. From Loghem 1980, p. 26. Tafuri 1978, pp. 10-11; Berkers 1978, pp. 598-599. Eisenman 1989, p. 23. Van Duin 1989, p. 13; Eisenman 1989, p. 20. Van Duin 1995, p. 11 points out that these concepts are also referred to in ‘the ministerial memorandum Ruimte voor architectuur [Space for Architecture] 1991’. Engel 1981; Bernini 1990; Derwig & Mattie 1995; Graafland 1986. As regards sand, see for example: Vitruvius (II.4), Alberti (II.12), Palladio (I.4); earth: Vitruvius (II.6); (hard) stone: Vitruvius (II.7), Alberti (II.8 and III.4); Palladio (I.3); marble: Vitruvius (VII.6); (carpentry) wood and trees: Vitruvius (II.9); Alberti (II.4, II.5; II.6, II.7, III.2), Palladio (I.2); winds: Vitruvius (I.6); Alberti (I.3; V.18). Vitruvius (I.3); Alberti (I.2) Palladio (I.1 and II.1). Kristeller 1961; Close 1969 and 1971. Thus Alberti (Leoni 1755, p. 106). Osler 1998, p. 92; Smith 1999, p. 446. Close 1969, 971; Osler 1998; Van Eck 1999; De Jong 1998; Smith 1999. Close 1969, p. 467: ‘“Nature” is being taken in the following senses, common in classical antiquity and surviving with certain modifications through the classical tradition: a) the principle or processes of generation, evolution, and growth in the physical cosmos; b) the universal causative power; c) the original and permanently subsisting ground in the cosmos, whether in the pre-Socratic sense of material and the elements or in the Platonic sense of the Ideas; d) the essential form of physical things, giving them life and specific identity; e) the cosmic scheme or natural world’. Stevin, Wiscontighe Ghedachtenissen, ‘Tweede Bouck des Eertclootschrift Vant Stofroersel des 172 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166. 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. 182. 183. 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. 194. 195. 196. 197. Eertcloots', p. 51. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 15. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 9, 18. Stevin 1649, pp. 51 and 60. Stevin 1649, p. 34. Close 1969, p. 474. Close 1969, p. 467 ‘“Art” is understood here in the senses which it preserved from classical antiquity to the renaissance: as any rationally organized activity which has a practical rather than a speculative end (e.g. rhetoric, carpentry, politics, painting, drama), and as the system of the theoretical knowledge or the intellectual expertise or the technical proficiency which such activities presuppose’. Close 1969, p. 447. Stevin 1649, pp. 33-36. On p. 34, he refers to his writings 'Eertcloots Stofroersel' (1605-1608). Stevin 1649, p. 35. Vitruvius (I.4) also mentions this and points to the animals that die as a result. Stevin 1649, pp. 353-356. Close 1969, p. 477. Stevin 1649, p. 12. Other writers sometimes add that a house also offers protection against wild animals and should exclude vermin. For the Dutch building practice see Zantkuijl 1993; Haslinghuis 1986; De Vries 1994, pp. 21-92. Van den Heuvel 1995A. Stevin 1649, p. 98 mentions as an example the fact that one has knowledge of façades and sidewalls, as a result of which buildings have remained standing for more than 1000 years. See also Vitruvius (II.8). Stevin 1649, p. 44; and also ‘vastighheyt gheven’ [give strength] (p. 125), ‘vaster werck’ [a solid work] (p. 114), ‘sterck sijn’ [being strong] (p. 60). Stevin 1649, p. 12. Vitruvius (II.Prologue and II.2). Vitruvius (VIII. Prologue). Vitruvius (I.4 and II.9). Vitruvius (VIII. Prologue), in: Peters 1997, p. 215. Like the work of Paracelsus. Stevin, Wysentitjt p. 15. Stevin 1649, p. 83. Stevin 1649, pp. 83-85. For the image material, indicated as bp [beeldpagina, image page], see the two pdfs: STEVIN_bp_1-20_diss H. de Mare 2003 and STEVIN_bp_21-40_diss H. de Mare 2003. All the image material, including those discussed in the other Chapters, can be found at: http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Stevin 1649, pp. 96-97. Stevin 1649, p. 97. Stevin 1649, p. 97. Van Beverwijck states something similar: ‘Nu alsoo hier te lande de Steden, en insonderheydt de Dorpen, meestendeels seerleegh, en midden in het water gelegen zijn, en, dienvolgende, dampigh en vochtigh; het welck veel sinckingen en ander sieckten veroirsaeckt: soo en is niet beter, als den grondt van de Huysen seer hoogh boven de straet te stellen, op dat de vochtigheyt, die anders van buyten in de Huysen sijpt, nae buyten mocht uytgeperst werden’ [Now that here in the country the towns, and especially the villages, are usually very low and in the middle of the water, and consequently damp and humid; which causes a lot of falling sickness and other diseases: then it is better to place the ground floor of the house very high above the street, so that the humidity, which otherwise seeps into the houses from outside, can be pressed out]. Stevin 1649, pp. 98 and 101. Stevin 1649, pp. 57, 99, 119, 124 and 125. Stevin 1649, p. 99. Stevin 1649, p. 98. Stevin 1649, p. 80. It concerns Alberti (Q.17). Vitruvius (I.6), in: Peters 1997, p. 46. Peters 1997, p. 321, n. 26. describes these antique ‘wind figures’ (named after the wind god Aeolus) who sometimes have the shape of a male figure, sometimes the head with wings where steam blows out as a kind of ‘whistling kettle’. Vitruvius (I.6), in: Peters 1997, p. 46. Stevin 1649, p. 77. Stevin 1649, p. 82 resp. 79. 173 198. 199. 200. 201. 202. 203. 204. 205. 206. 207. 208. 209. 210. 211. 212. 213. 214. 215. 216. 217. 218. 219. 220. 221. 222. 223. 224. 225. 226. 227. 228. 229. 230. 231. 232. 233. Stevin 1649, p. 78. Vanpaemel 1998, p. 274. Vitruvius (II.9). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 397). Stevin 1649, pp. 99-100. De Vries 1994, pp. 78-79 points out that from 1400 onwards city laws will appear in which flammable materials such as straw and reed are prohibited, or in which subsidies are given for roofs on which less flammable ‘tiles, roof tiles and slates’ are used. The materials Stevin discusses largely correspond to what was used in contemporary and local building practice. Due to the mobility of building materials, there is (although limited in times of war) a certain dispersion in the materials used in Europe. In the Netherlands (in addition to oak and, from the 17th century onwards, coniferous wood from Scandinavia), especially hard stone types had to be imported, raw materials on which Vitruvius, Alberti and Palladio also have made comments (De Vries 1994, pp. 2125). Various types of natural stone can be distinguished (German Bentheimer and Baumberger, but also hard stone from Belgium), just as there are various types of burned stone that differ according to the origin of the clay. Stevin 1649, pp. 105, 120 and in Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 397). Stevin 1649, p. 97. Stevin 1649, p. 105. Stevin 1649, p. 106. Stevin 1649, p. 106. Stevin 1649, pp. 105-106. Stevin 1649, p. 113. Beeckman (De Waard 1942), p. 395. Stevin 1649, p. 94. Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 397). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 396). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 397). According to Van Beverwijck: ‘Van alle stoffen, daer af de Huysen af gemaeckt werden, oirdeelt de Baron Verulam, in ‘t sesde Boeck van sijn Natuerlicke Historye op ‘t achtste Capittel, dat de gebacke Steen (gelijck wy hier oock meest gebruycken) de beste en gesonste is, als door het vyer gesuyvert zijnde van sijn elementarische hoedanigheden’ [Of all the substances of which Houses are made, Baron Verulam [ = Francis Bacon, (1561–1626)] , in his sixth book of his Natuerlicke Historye in the eighth chapter, judges that the baked stone (such as we also use here) is the best and healthiest, because it has been purified by fire from its elementary properties.’ Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 397). Successively in Stevin 1649, pp. 94, 93, 92, 94 and 88. Stevin 1649, p. 92. Stevin 1649, pp. 93-94. Stevin 1649, pp. 88, 92 and 93-94. Stevin 1649, p. 100. Stevin 1649, p. 101; De Vries 1994, p. 81. De Vries 1994, p. 85: ‘Roof tile is the correct word for the flat baked plate, which is referred to in Medieval Dutch as “tegel’ or” “tichel”: especially in the west and middle of the Netherlands. Originally 27 x 18 x 1.5 cm, later (until the sixteenth century) 24 x 14 x 1.5 cm. Stevin 1649, p. 101. Stevin 1649, pp. 100-101; idem Vitruvius (II.8). Stevin 1649, p. 100. Stevin 1649, p. 112. Stevin 1649, pp. 124-126. Alberti (I.12). Serlio draws attention to the distinction between the Mediterranean situation and northern Europe, where the light is less intense. The windows should therefore be larger to allow sufficient light (Rosenfeld 1978, p. 56). Stevin 1649, p. 112. Stevin 1649, pp. 125-126. According to the description, it is a bay window to look through – and there is a maximum of one in each chamber. He does not like these windows of stone, ‘want om behoorlicke sterckte te hebben, moetense den gevel seer beswaren’, [because in order to have considerable strength, they will overload the façade’, nor made by wood. He prefers iron, which is stronger (pp. 125-126). Stevin 1649, p. 120. 174 234. 235. 236. 237. 238. 239. 240. 241. 242. 243. 244. 245. 246. 247. 248. 249. 250. 251. 252. 253. 254. 255. 256. 257. 258. 259. 260. 261. 262. 263. 264. 265. 266. 267. 268. 269. 270. 271. 272. 273. 274. Stevin 1649, p. 120. Beeckman (De Waard 1942). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 397). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 398 and 400). Zantkuijl 1993, p. 35 confirms this: ‘Laying the beams in the stone wall was and remained a difficult task. The beam heads were often suffocated or rotted, which did not benefit the construction of the house’. Ditto, Vitruvius (II.8), in: Peters 1997, p. 75: ‘I wish wooden famework had never been invented’. Stevin 1649, pp. 119-120. Stevin 1649, p. 120. Stevin 1649, p. 97; Haslinghuis 1986, p. 364; De Vries 1994, p. 25. Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 118). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 396). Stevin 1649, p. 97. Furthermore, Stevin (pp. 97, 88 and 90) mentions walls of tras and ‘trasbacken’ (consisting of impermeable partitions) in the purification of rainwater. Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 396). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 397). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 396). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 396). Stevin 1649, p. 60; idem Vitruvius (II.10 and II.8). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 3970). Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 395). Stevin 1649, p. 114; Zantkuijl 1993. Stevin 1649, p. 114. Stevin speaks of ‘een halve verdieping’, ‘een verdieping’ en ‘tvve verdiepingen’ [half a floor, one floor, two floors] (pp. 114-115). Haslinghuis (1946) first found the term ‘verdieping’ as an indication in Danckerts’ 1646 treatise, consisting of Scamozzi’s ordination of columns and an appendix by Lemuet. The term here refers to the lowering of an existing space (= deepening). Zantkuijl 1993, p. 34: ‘De “zolder met verdiep” is een volledige “verdieping” geworden ofwel de “eerste verdieping”. ‘The “attic with a deepening floor” has become a complete “floor” or the “first floor”. In old city laws and inventories is also called the attic, ‘square attic’, or simply ‘the square’. The word “deepening” has survived in our contemporary [Dutch] language in its original sense. We speak of a house with three deepenings if there are three full floors above the first floor. The first floor is often called the main floor or begane grond [ground floor]. As the stone cityhouse grows, the remarkable fact arises that the floors emerge, as it were, from the roof down. This contrary to the wooden house, where the second floor is created by placing a yoke construction on the wooden frame of the ground floor’. Stevin 1649, p. 57. Beeckman (De Waard 1942). Stevin 1649, p. 117, concerns a summary of Hendrick. Beeckman (De Waard 1942, pp. 398-399); Stevin 1649, p. 62. Stevin 1649, p. 97. On p. 96, Stevin 1649 writes that the ‘ondercant der overvvelfssels altijt ontrent 2 ½ of 2 voet hoger dan de straet’ moet zijn [the underside of the vault must always be 2 1/2 or 2 feet higher than the street’. Stevin 1649, p. 97. Stevin 1649, p. 118. Stevin 1649, p. 118. Stevin 1649, pp. 117-118. Kristeller 1961, p. 46. Stevin, Dialectike, pp. 4-5. And further: ‘Insgelijcx dat wy seggen van een groot sterck huys, datter grote menichvuldicheydt in is van Steen, Houdt, Yser ...’ [Likewise, we say that a large, strong house has a great variety of stone, wood, iron ...] (Stevin, Dialectike, p. 129). Stevin, Dialectike, pp. 6-7. Stevin, Dialectike, pp. 79 and 23. Stevin, Dialectike, p. 7. Stevin, Dialectike, p. 7. Stevin, Dialectike, p. 72. Stevin, Dialectike, p. 8. Stevin, Dialectike, p. 2. Vitruvius (VIII.2). Stevin 1649, p. 98. 175 275. 276. 277. 278. 279. 280. 281. 282. 283. 284. 285. 286. 287. 288. 289. 290. 291. 292. 293. 294. 295. 296. 297. 298. Leeman & Braet 1987. Miedema 1973A, p. 310; Leeman & Braet 1987, p. 58. Van Eck 1999, p. 358 points to Scamozzi’s definition of invention, namely ‘as an explanation of difficult questions, and the rationale of new designs’. For the issue of water in Stevin, see Van den Heuvel 1995A, chapter 6. Zantkuijl 1993, pp. 353-364; Meischke 1969, 1982, pp. 19-22 and 1986. Schama 1988. Derwig & Mattie 1995, pp. 20-23. Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992, p. 85. Stevin 1649, pp. 88, 95, 97. Van Beverwijck 1644 (De Mare 1983, p. 140); Jacob Cats also wrote a verse about ‘the Air’ for Van Beverwijck, later included in ADW II, p. 576. Van Gemert, 1992. In his Schat der Gesontheyt [Treasure of Health] Van Beverwijck describes the ‘art of ’healing’ as the doctrine through which hum beings are able to distinguish between those things that are bad and those that are beneficial to health. Health must be maintained or restored. He subordinates the art of healing to the positive pursuit of health. Diseases of the body are seen as obstacles and hindrances that need to be banned from life. In this way, surgery is put at the service of health. Van Beverwijck defined health as an ability of the body to perform ‘the natuerlicke wercke of the menschelicke lighaem’ [the natural workings of the human body]. He defines the art of healing as an ‘art to live a healthy life’. This art is based on two principles. Firstly, there is knowledge about health and how it can be maintained. Secondly, health is not a general quality, but depends on ‘de jaren, gedaente, gemaigheyt, en ander omstandigheden’ [the years, shapes, moderation, and other circumstances]. Only with ‘rechte maet, maniere en bequame tijt’ [suitable measure, way and time] can a body obtain its own health. Van Beverwijck 1644 points out that it is better for one’s health when the bad fumes (such as from the lime) have disappeared from the house, which he explains with the proverb: ‘Een nieuw Huys laet bewoonen, het eerste jaer door u vyant, het tweede jaer door u vrient, het derde jaer door U selfs.’ ‘You let a new Huys inhabit the first year by your enemy, the second yaer by your friend, the third year by you yourself'. (De Mare 1983, p. 149). Jacob Cats devotes several pages to air, the winds, the seasons and healthy places to live, but also to good food (ADW II, pp. 576-584). Van Beverwijck 1644, ‘Voor alle menschen is een klare, suyvere en gematighde Lucht dienstigh en gesont, gelijck een onsuyvere, donckere, en ongematighde schadelicke en onbequaem…’ [For all mankind a clear, pure and moderate air is helpful and sound, as well as an unpure, dark, and unmoderate are harmful and unsuitable ...] (De Mare 1983, p. 148). Van Beverwijck 1644 (De Mare 1983, p. 141). Vitruvius (I.4; Peters 1997, p. 40). Vitruvius (I.4), ‘Location of the town’; (VI.4),’'Orientation of the chambers’; (VIII), ‘Water supply’. With Alberti for example (I.2 - 6, IV.2) and Palladio (I.7). Vitruvius (VIII.3). Vitruvius (I.4; Peters 1997, p. 40). Stevin 1649, p. 55. Stevin 1649, pp. 112, 121 and 123. Stevin 1649, p. 118. In addition to ‘ongeschicktelick’ [unsuitable] (p. 55), he speaks several times ‘ongherief’ [inconvenience] (pp. 57, 64, 81), ‘ongherievich’, but also ‘gherief’ returns regularly (pp. 30, 61, 122), ‘tot gerief’ (p. 93), ‘gerievich’ (pp. 63, 67, 71) or ‘gerievelick’ (p. 32). Stevin 1649, pp. 60 and 61. For example, Stevin 1649, pp. 61, 64, 65, 71. Stevin 1649, p. 55. Three-quarters of a century later this still seems to be the case, based on the observation of Willem Goeree 1681, p. 154: ‘Onzes achtens, die het licht beminnen, zullen nimmer lust krijgen om op den klaren middag by de Keers, of in de duisternis te leven, gelijkmen in menig Huis doen moet’ [According to us, those who love the light will never have the desire to live on a clear afternoon by the candle, or in darkness, as one has to do in many a house]. Before, on pp. 134-135, he already discussed this issue in an extensive way: ‘Wat en ziet men niet wel meenig woonhuis, in de vorige, en in ‘t begin van deze eeuw hier te lande verbrot en onverstandig gebouwt, dieze met aandacht beschout zal in twijffel zijn, of de menschen haar oogen in haar nek hebben gestaan, of ‘t verstant in de elleboogen heeft gezeten, of datze in plaats van verstandige en ervaren luiden, zotten en moetwilligers zijn geweest. En gelijk het hen, om met ernst te spreken, mogelijk aan licht in de Bouwkunde gehapert heeft, zoo is opmerkelijk datze menigmaal de grootste en onverschoonlijkste misslagen aan het schikken, zoeken, en ordineeren van 176 299. 300. 301. 302. 303. 304. 305. 306. 307. 308. 309. 310. 311. 312. 313. 314. 315. 316. 317. 318. 319. 320. 321. 322. 323. 324. 325. 326. 327. Lichten hebben begaan. Want daar ‘t licht was, hebbenze het betimmerd, of belemmerd, en daar ‘t niet was, hebbenze het met duizent practijken gezocht; het is te gelooven indienze het Licht, als het Water hadden konnen leyen, zy hadden ‘t wel over Daken en Huizen, tot in de Woonkeukens en Kelders heen willen trekken. Het moet ons dan ook niet verwonderen wanneerwe hooren dat in zoodanige Huisgebouwen ook vertrekken zijn die men by uitnementheid donkere kamerkens noemt. Alhoewel de minste zal konnen verstaan, dat de voornaamste der gezeide gebreken zouden vermijt geweest zijn, zooze slechts ‘t verstant hadden gehad van middelplaatzen in de woonhuizen te ordineeren. Men ziet in die gebouwen veelzints dubbele Saletten met Glazen in ste van Schuttingen afgescheiden: donkere binnenkamers, valsche lichten, gezochte lichten, Koekhoeken, neervallende daklichten: betimmerde lichten’. [What one sees in many a house, in the last century and in the beginning of this century, how this country has been spoiled and unwisely built; whoever looks attentively will be in despair, as if people had their eyes in their necks, or their brains in their elbows, and instead of being sensible and experienced men, they have been fools and wanton fiddlers. And just as they, to speak seriously, may have lacked the light in architecture, it is remarkable that they have often committed the greatest and most inexcusable mistakes in arranging, searching for, and ordering Lights. For where there was light, they have paneled it, or obstructed it, and where it was not, they have sought it with a thousand practices; It is to be believed that if they could have led the Light, like the Water, they would have drawn it over Roofs and Houses, into Kitchens and Cellars. It should therefore not surprise us when we hear that in such House buildings there are also chambers that are called preeminently dark chambers. Although anyone could understand that the most important of the aforementioned defects could have been avoided, if only they had had the sense to organise middle places in the houses. In those buildings one often sees double rooms with windows instead of being separated by fences making dark interior rooms, fake lights, wanted lights, falling roof lights, panelled lights]. Stevin 1649, p. 54. Meischke 1969, pp. 77 and 98. Stevin 1649, p. 55. Stevin 1649, pp. 55-56. Stevin 1649, p. 55. Stevin 1649, p. 51. Stevin 1649 writes ‘vry bequaem licht’ (p. 24), ‘vry licht’ (p. 53) and ‘vrylicht’ (p. 116, addition Hendrik). In addition, ‘met groote vryeheyt’ (p. 64), ‘vryelick’, ‘ontvrijen’ (p.66), ‘ontvryt’ (p. 116), ‘bevreyt’ (pp. 66, 67). Vitruvius (VI.4), Alberti (V.18). Alberti (I.12); Serlio (VI). Zantkuijl 1993, pp. 198-208. Zantkuijl refers to these pivotally hung ‘binnenraampjes’ [interior windows] that can be seen, for example, in paintings by Johan Vermeer. Later an inner rebate was applied to the frame so that windows opening inwards could be placed. The process of the stained glass was in use but was not very solid as a construction. It could only bridge a limited width. Stevin 1649, pp. 96, 99; Goeree 1681, p. 133. Stevin 1649, pp. 124-126. Zantkuijl 1993, pp. 199-200. Stevin 1649, p. 112. Stevin 1649, pp. 50-51. Stevin 1649, p.61. Stevin 1649, p. 121. Stevin 1649, p. 122. Stevin 1649, pp. 123 and 124. Meischke 1969; Zantkuijl 1993. Stevin 1649, p. 122. Stevin 1649, p. 25. Stevin 1649, p. 53. Stevin 1649, p. 56. Stevin 1649, p. 51. Taverne 1978, p. 45 points out that Stevin’s courtyard is derived from ‘Renaissance variants of the ancient atrium’. Stevin 1649, p. 42. Stevin 1649, p. 43. Stevin 1649, p. 43. Stevin 1649, pp. 57-59. 177 328. 329. 330. 331. 332. 333. 334. 335. 336. 337. 338. 339. 340. 341. 342. 343. 344. 345. 73. 347. 348. 349. 350. 351. 352. 353. 354. 355. 356. 357. 358. 359. 360. 361. 362. 363. 364. 365. 366. 367. Stevin 1649, p. 56. Stevin 1649, pp. 24-25. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 89 believes that water plays a central role (‘thé element’) in Stevins' architectural theory. Stevin 1649, p. 83. Stevin points out that Vitruvius (he erroneously mentions VIII.4 instead of VIII.3) claims to derive his knowledge from other Greek authors, such as Theophrastus, Timaeus (Plato), Pos(s)idonius, Hegesias, Herodotus, Aristides, Metrodor(t)us (Peters 1997, p. 230). After Vitruvius, Stevin adds, Pliny and Palladio also wrote about water. Vitruvius (VIII.4; Peters 1997, p. 231). Van den Heuvel 1994D, p. 84 merely notes that, in the tradition, ‘general comments on water quality and universal solutions for its supply were sufficient’. Alberti (I, II and especially X), Palladio (II.12). Vitruvius (VIII. 5 and 6). Van Beverwijck 1644 (De Mare 1983, pp. 145-146). By the way, spring water is also healthy, but if it has a taste (such as ‘Spae water’) it is caused by the minerals it contains and then it should not just be drunk, but used as a ‘medicinalen dranck gebruyckt worden’ [used as a medicinal drink]. Because the water in Holland is usually impure, Van Beverwijck recommends drinking wine (De Mare 1983, pp. 141-142). Stevin 1649, p. 83. Vitruvius (VIII.1). Stevin 1649, pp. 83-85. Alberti (I.4), Palladio (II.12), Vitruvius (VIII.4). Van Beverwijck 1644, p. 303. Stevin 1649, p. 85. Zantkuijl 1993, p. 21. Stevin 1649, p. 66. Beeckman (De Waard 1942, pp. 399 and p 400). Stevin 1649, p. 85. Stevin 1649, p. 85. Stevin 1649, p. 39. Stevin 1649, p. 85. Stevin 1649, pp. 85-86. Van Beverwijck 1644, p. 303. Stevin 1649, p. 88. Stevin 1649, p. 87. Stevin 1649, p. 87. Stevin 1649, p. 86. Stevin 1649, p. 90. Son Hendrick adds (Stevin 1649, p. 90) a remark in which he states that he does not understand Stevin’s drawings here. Stevin, however, points out the physical effect of the whole: the water flows from the purification tank through the various tubes. Stevin 1649, pp. 89, 91. Stevin 1649, pp. 87-88. Stevin 1649, p. 88. Stevin 1649, p. 88. Stevin 1649, pp. 118-119. Stevin 1649, pp. 102-113 [= p. 103]. Stevin 1649, p. 43. Peters 1997, p. 361. Stevin 1649, pp. 44-45. Vitruvius (Fensterbusch 1981, p. 557, n. 359). Van Beverwijck 1644: ‘... alsoo alle Spijse eenige ongelijckheydt heeft met ons Lichaem, soo moeten nootsakelick yet van overschieten, dat aen ons Lichaem niet gehecht en kan worden. De grove en onsuyver kost laet veel overtolligheyt, de suyvere weynigh: maer meestendeel gaet het derde part, ofte wat meerder, van onderen af: en ontrent het derde part gedijd tot voedsel, het overige gaet tot ander vuyligheyt, slijm, water, gal, sweet, roockachtige dampen &c. (...) Maer gelijcker verscheyde kokinge, ofte teringen in ‘t Lichaem zijn, te weten de eerste in de Maegh, de tweede in de lever, de derde in elck van de leden: soo werden oock verscheyden overschot vergadert, als kamerganck, water, gal, melancholy, drooge en dampige vuyligheyt, die de huyt uit-werpt, en waer van de hemden vuyl werden, en dick wils het sweet, de welcke al te samen uyt de algemene verteeringen voortkomen (...). De af-treck, ofte 178 368. 369. 370. 371. 372. 373. 374. 375. 376. 377. 378. 379. 380. 381. 382. 383. 384. 385. 386. 387. 388. 389. 390. 391. 392. 393. 394. 395. 396. 397. 398 . ‘t overschot van de maeghen en dermen, indien ‘t niet ‘t sijner tijt af en schiet, (dat is voor sobere luyden eens daegs, voor den eten, en voor de gene die wat veel eten tweemael) belet het teren (...). Sulcks beschadight oock voornamelick een swack hooft, en valt mede d’ander deelen moeylick, verweckt winden, krimpinghe in de dermen en dierghelijcke quellingen (...). Op de selfde maniere als het Water op syn behoorlicke tijdt geloost werdt, dat is het Lichaem nut en dienstigh: maer indien het te haestigh afgedreven, en so insonderheydt te langh opgehouden wert, soo en verweckt het geen kleyne schade ...’ [... ... as all food has some inequality with our bodies, there must necessarily remain some that cannot be attached to our bodies. The coarse and impure food causes much superfluousness, the pure food but little: but usually the third part, or sometimes a little more, goes out from below; for a third part the food thrives, and the rest passes into other filth, as mucus, water, bile, sweet, smoky vapours &c. (...) But as there are several places of boiling or digestion in the body, viz. firstly in the stomach, secondly in the liver, thirdly in all the members: so also the surplus is collected in various ways, as in the excrements, water, bile, melancholy, dry and vapid filth, which the skin sheds and from which the shirts become dirty, and often the sweat, which arises together from the general digestion (...). The secretion, or surplus of the stomach and intestines, if not regularly secreted (which is once a day for poor people, and twice a day for those who eat a lot) hinders digestion (...). And that damages a weak head, and also hinders the other members, produces farts, cramps in the bowels and similar torments (...). Just as the water must be discharged in its proper time, for that is useful and beneficial to the body; But if it be discharged too hastily, or held up too long, it causes no small damage]; (De Mare 1983, p. 143). See also Jacob Cats, ADW II, pp. 584-585: ‘Van af-setten en behouden, als oock van by-slapen’ [Of secretion and preservation, as well as of sexual intercourse]and on p. 591: ‘Van het loosen des Kamer-gancks, Waters &c’ [On the discharge of excrements, water, &c.] Stevin 1649, p. 92. Stevin 1649, pp. 92 and 95. Stevin 1649, p. 93. Stevin 1649, pp. 92 and 93-94. Stevin 1649, pp. 92 and p 92-93. Stevin 1649, p. 92. Stevin 1649, p. 92. Alberti (V.17). Stevin 1649, pp. 91-92. Stevin 1649, pp. 91-95. Stevin 1649, pp. 91-92. Palladio (II.3) occasionally mentions the privy indoors and without stench. Stevin 1649, p. 92. Stevin 1649, p. 94. Stevin 1649, pp. 93 and 95. Stevin 1649, pp. 92-93. Stevin 1649, p. 93. Stevin 1649, pp. 92-93. Lambton 1978, p. 5; Wright 1960, pp. 71-73. Stevin 1649, p. 95. Stevin 1649, p. 94. Stevin 1649, pp. 21-30 [= p. 22]. Stevin 1649, pp. 75-76. Stevin 1649, p. 82. Stevin 1649, p. 82. In Book VII on ‘Wall and Floor Decorations’, Vitruvius describes the everyday use of these side effects, p. 200: ‘In chambers where a fire or many lamps have to burn, [cornices] should be kept smooth so that they can be brushed off more easily. In summer chambers and extensions, where there is hardly any smoke and no soot damage can occur, it is best to use embossed frames. Because of its dazzling whiteness, the blance stucco always attracts smoke, not only from its own house, but even from that of its neighbours’. Vitruvius (VII.3). Alberti (V.17). Alberti (V.17). Alberti (X.11). Stevin 1649, pp. 82-83, 81 and 77. Stevin 1649, p. 81. 179 399. 400. 401. 402. 403. 404. 405. 406. 407. 408. 409. 410. 411. 412. 413. 414. 415. 416. 417. 418. 419. 420. 421. 422. 423. 424. 425. 426. Van Beverwijck 1644, ‘Wat vorder de Kamers in een huys aengaet, die en dienen niet leegh van verdieping te wesen, om dat de Lucht in de selve te seer benauwt, en bedwelmt werde. Sy een behoeven oock niet doorboort met al te vele vensters; want daer door wert de Lucht al te seer beroert, en dienvolgende ongelijck, het welck tegens de gesontheyt strijdt. Evenwel moeten sy al dickwils verlucht werden, dewijl de Lucht anders vermuft, gelijck men oock siet dat het Water, ‘twelck langh stil staet, bederft, en groote stanck van hem geeft’ [As for the chambers in the house, their ceilings should not be low for otherwise the air there becomes too oppressive and intoxicating. The chambers should not be pierced with too many windows, for then the air is too much stirred up and thus the air is unevenly distributed, which is against health. But they should be aired often, for otherwise the air becomes stale, as is the case with water, which, if left standing too long, spoils and gives off a great stench. (De Mare 1983, p. 149). Stevin 1649, p. 76. Stevin 1649, pp. 76-77. Stevin 1649, p. 77. Palladio (I.27). Stevin 1649, p. 77. Stevin 1649, p. 79 (‘Leo Baptista Albertus int 17 Hooftsick sijns 5 boecx’) and p. 80 (Cardanus lib: the subtilitate 2). Stevin 1649, pp. 79 and 80. Stevin 1649, p. 78. Stevin 1649, p. 77. Stevin 1649, p. 78. Stevin 1649, pp. 79 and 80. Stevin 1649, p. 82. Although the depiction of the Model of the house is not by Stevin’s hand, it gives – according to his son Hendrick – an impression of the maquette that was in the care of Prince Maurits. The chimney pipe on the roof consists of three different chimneys, which could mean that Stevin indeed placed a stove on each floor, each with its own drain. Meischke 1986. Alberti (V.17). Stevin, 1649, p. 74. Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 229. Goudeau 1995, p. 190 writes that Goldmann (who was in the possession of Stevin’s Materiae Politicae from 1649) wrote about a typically German phenomenon such as ‘the Stube’ (indoor hall heated by a stove). Alberti (V.17; Leoni 1755, p. 106). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 51, p. 66 and p. 115, n. 3). Stevin 1649, p. 75. Stevin 1649, p. 75. Van Beverwijck 1644 (De Mare 1983, p. 148). Stevin 1649, p. 75. Stevin continues that this finds its cause in ‘dobbel glase veinsters, geeft groote warmte: hier af moet ick reden onderzoecken inde vorst alst vriest met twe tonnen d’een in d’ander’ [double glass windows, give great warmth: I must examine the reason for this when it freezes, with the help of two barrels in each other]. Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 401) vermeldt ‘stoven van yser’ [stoves made of iron]. For fuel, Stevin 1649, pp. 74-5, p. 62 (‘hout en turfbakken’ [wood and peat bins], D in the drawing), p. 96 (‘branding’ [fuel]). Stevin 1649, p. 75. Stevin 1649, p. 75. He also mentions that the ‘kacheloven [oven of the stove] is used by ordinary people to cook. Stam 1936, in: Bernini 1990, pp. 31-32: Sport ‘is of great importance to keep a people alive and mentally healthy (...) Gradually the view will have to dawn on us that every human being needs sport and recreation. It is already recognized that every human being has the right to a good healthy dwelling with sun, light and air. It is also understood that every district will have to have sufficient green space and that there will be more and more recognition that every district needs playgrounds and that there must be sports fields in every district’. Such an excess was also present during the Middle Ages, albeit reserved for the aristocracy and not based on a modern, but on a natural philosophy. Duby 1993; Wright 1960, pp. 47-51; Romein-Verschoor 1957, p. 12. Stevin 1649, p. 61: ‘mits datmen daer in bequamelick sijn gherief mach hebben’ [provided that one may have his comfort therein in a good manner]. For Vingboons, see Ottenheym 1989, pp. 230, 233 and 180 427. 428. 429. 430. 431. 432. 433. 434. 435. 436. 437. 438. 439 440. 441. 442. 443. 444. 445. 446. 447. 448. 449. 450. 451. 452. 453. 454. 455. 456. further ‘gemack’ (pp. 231 and. 235); idem Evans 1983. Zantkuijl 1993, p. 82. Brown 1986; Markus 1993; Hollander 1990; Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 63; Grafe 1993; Evans 1983; Meischke 1969; Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992; Fock 1987; Olsen 1991, p. 152. Rosenfeld 1978, p. 50 for instance, writes: ‘In Book VI Serlio tries to develop a rational system of domestic planning with a high regard for privacy that reflects changes in the structure of the family during the second half of the fifteenth century. Richard Goldthwaite observes the splitting up, in the course of the Quattrocento in Florence, of the extended Family which had lived together during the Middle Ages. The single family began to live as a separate unit, Especially among the middle and upper classes. The greater demand for privacy resulted in a clearer Differentiation in the function of chambers in urban palaces’. Duijvendak 1996, p. 73; Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992, p. 81; Markus 1993, pp. 284-286; Meischke 1969, pp. 97-98; De Vries 1994, p. 166; Zantkuijl 1993. Hollander 1990, pp. 39-43: ‘Such notions were probably on the minds of architects at this period’. Hollander 2001, n. 22, pp. 291 resp. 281. Hollander 2001, p. 280, idem Hollander 1990, p. 41; Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992, pp. 84-89. Dibbets 1998, p. 79. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 52; and further that Stevin ‘considers this separation between strictly private and more or less public chambers'’in detail (p. 53). Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 68. Hollander 1990, pp. 41-42. Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992, p. 91. Van der Hoeven & Louwe 1985; Fock 1987, 1997; Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992, p. 87. Fock 1987: ‘socio-historical facets (p. 2), ‘type of residential community’, ‘great social diversity’, ‘residential function’ (p. 3), ‘socio-spatial pattern’ (p. 4), ‘social pluralism’ (p. 4), ‘residential uses’, ‘slowly progressive differentiation in the function of the various rooms’, ‘multi-functional rooms’ (p. 7), ‘the sleeping function’ (p. 8), ‘representative function’ (p. 10); Ranum 1989: ‘social environment’ (p. 183), ‘each room has its own function’ (p. 186); Collomp 1989: ‘social classes’, ‘friendship sociability’ (p. 361), ‘men’s sociability’; Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992: ‘dwelling environment’ (p. 79), ‘purely functional use’, ‘social meaning of goods’, ‘integral social history’, ‘social change processes’, ‘social life’ (p. 80), ‘social groups’ (p. 81), ‘functional use of various rooms’ (p. 82), ‘the function of dwellings has changed greatly over the centuries’, ‘dual function’ (p. 84), ‘socio-economic developments’ (p. 85), ‘changes in the functions of dwellings’ (p. 86), ‘functions of the living rooms’,’functional implementation’, ‘residential functions’ (p. 91), ‘the pure function of use’, ‘the status and signal function’ (p. 95). Ranum 1989, p. 186. Shapin 1997, p. 299, idem pp. 274-275. Brown 1986, p. 558; Steadman 1983. Brown 1986, p. 558. Brown 1986, pp. 558-559. Ranum 1989, p. 186. Olsen 1991, p. 122. Collomp 1989, p. 355. Markus 1993, cover tekst, resp. p. 13. Corbin 1986, p. 135. Hetherington 1997, p. vii. Foucault (1963, 1976B, 1978) is the main sources of inspiration. A process that, incidentally, Dutchlanguage authors had already followed decades earlier and which many (although not all) have now abandoned. Adang 1981; Bosma 1981 and 1982; Berkers & Van de Ven 1981; De Heer 1979; De Mare 1986; Schaevers 1981. For recent followers, see Van Duin 1989; Graafland 1986, 2000. Rowe 1987, p. 125. There is talk of a structural engineer intervening in ‘the social’. Elias 1990; Goffman 1959; Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992. One speaks, on the one hand, in terms of the ‘social network’ that connects the residents, presupposes a ‘social cohesion’, a ‘social solidarity’ or mutual solidarity (Brown 1976); or, on the other hand, speaks about the ‘apartheid’ that separates them spatially, of the separation of residents (inside) and strangers (outside), all derived from the way spaces are connected, the spatial circulation system (WijsenbeekOlthuis 1992). Shapin 1997. It has been observed that ‘functions were not yet so highly developed’ in the seventeenth century and it is 181 457. 458. 459. 460. 461. 462. 463. 464. 465. 466. 467. 468. 469. 470. 471. 472. 473. 474. 475. 476. 477. 478. 479. 480. 481. 482. 483. 484. 485. 486. 487. 488. 489. 490. 491. 492. 493. 494. 495. 496. 497. therefore advisable to ‘apply these ideas with some caution’. Steadman 1983, p. 209: ‘For example, the idea of different rooms in a house being allocated to distinct “activities” was less developed in say the seventeenth century’. However, it is not a question of whether historiographical research and modernist research can perhaps be combined, as Westermann (2000, p. 23) recently suggested: ‘Whether Stevin’s requirement that a house separate or exclude naturally conflicting substances and forces could not also support, however unconsciously, a social development towards privacy will remain a lively topic of research and debate’. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 63 endorses this: ‘Thinking in rationalist categories is indeed legitimate as long as one does not forget that this means something different in seventeenth [century] architectural theory than in the architecture of the New Way of Building’. Evans 1983, p. 11: ‘cacophony of domestic life’, ‘the mixing of family and servants, children’s cabal and the chatter of women’. Stevin 1649, p. 8. Goeree 1681, p. 133. Stevin 1649, pp. 96, 98, 105, 119. Neither Vitruvius nor Alberti enter into such details. Stevin 1649: ‘tafel’ [table] (pp. 31 [= p. 23], 66 (twice), 119); cabinets, ‘cassen’ (pp. 31 [=23], 62); ‘lijnwaetcasse’, ‘cleercasse’ (pp. 73, 105, 111, 118); ‘bufetten’ (p. 105); ‘bedstee’ (pp. 31[= p. 23], 62, 101, 111); ‘bed’ (pp. 66, 98, 101); ‘gheltkist’, ‘silvercasse’, ‘Iuweelcasse’ (p. 73). Stevin 1649, p. 66. Stevin 1649, p. 62. Stevin 1649, p. 66. Stevin 1649, p. 31 [= p. 23]. Stevin 1649, pp. 72-73. Stevin 1649, p. 118: ‘bebardering’, panelling, shelling with wood (Van Sterkenburg 1981). Alberti (V.18). Stevin still mentions ‘lampet’, which can be ‘fire pot’ or ‘wash bowl’ (Van Sterkenburg 1981). Stevin 1649, pp. 66-67. Stevin 1649, p. 66. Stevin 1649, pp. 67 and 96. Stevin 1649, p. 67. Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 122: ‘speeten’ can mean ‘roasting spit’, but also ‘spitting’. Stevin 1649, p. 66. Stevin 1649, pp. 66, 24 and 73. Stevin 1649, p. 73. Stevin 1649, pp. 62 and 96; Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 202. Alberti (V.18). Stevin 1649, p. 62. But also for clutter in use. Stevin 1649, p. 27 [= p. 19]. Stevin 1649, p. 27 [= p. 19]. Stevin 1649, p. 60. Stevin 1649, p. 96. Stevin 1649, p. 97. Doorman 1940, pp. 86-88; Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 73 speaks of ‘a multifunctional mechanism’. Stevin 1649, pp. 12-13. Other animals he mentions are horses (in town and court), pigs, bees and vermin such as mice, rats and spiders. Stevin 1649: noise (pp. 67, 57-58), peeping in (pp. 67, 58, 24, 26, 124, 71, 70, 81, 67); playing (p. 43), walking (p. 56), dancing, jumping, pouring water (pp. 57-58). Stevin 1649, pp. 15-16. Stevin 1649, p. 112. Also at Alberti, Cats and Huygens. See also Roodenburg 1988 and De Mare 1994A. Stevin 1649, p. 120. Stevin 1649, pp. 63-64. De Mare 1994A, p. 111; Tzonis 1982, pp. 19-32. Dürer does something similar, see Günter 1988, p. 185. Stevin refers to Vitruvius (VI.10), but it concerns (VI.7). Stevin 1649, p. 48: ‘Alsoo de Griecken seer na de wellust, leefden, en van weghen ‘t gheluck, machtich waren, sy bouden eyghen huysinghen met eetcamers, slaepcamers, en kelders. (...); want alsoo en schenen sy niet vreemde gasten, maer selfs huysvaers te wesen, hebbende in dese gastlogysté een afgesonderde vryheyt’ [As the Greeks lived very much to their lust, and had power by luck, they built 182 498. 499. 500. 501. 502. 503. 504. 505. 506. 507. 508. 509. 510. 511. 512. 513. 514. 515. 516. 517. 518. 519. 520. 521. 522. 523. 524. 525. 526. 527. 528. 529. 530. 531. 532. 533. 534. 535. 536. 537. 538. 539. 540. 541. houses of their own with dining chambers, bedrooms and cellars (...); but as the foreign guests were also house-fathers, they had a secluded freedom in the guest quarters]. Vitruvius (VI.7). Stevin 1649, p. 49. Vitruvius (I.3): ‘Attention to efficacy requires a perfect distribution of places without hindrance to the users...’. (Peters 1977, p. 38). Vitruvius (VI.7); Tzonis 1982, p. 61. Stevin 1649, p. 50 ‘Cyzycenische eetcamers’ [Cyzycenic dining chambers]; Vitruvius (VI.7): ‘In such halls the men hold their feasts. It has not always been customary among the Greeks for women to join in. This perystylium of the house is called the andronitis (men’s wing), because the men stay here without being disturbed by the women’, Peters 1997, p. 184. A similar ratio of ‘natural apartheid’ underlies Alberti’s exclusion (VI.4) of women from temples dedicated to male affairs, and men are denied access to temples of goddesses. Stevin 1649, p. 48: ‘... vremde gasten die hun besochten, welcke sij den eersten dach ten Avontmael noden’ [... foreign guests who voisited them, whom they invited to dinner on the first day]. Vitruvius (VI.7). Alberti (V.17) mentions this together with the argument that it is also useful ‘to be able to sleep undisturbed at will in summer’. Depending on the translation, it's an old ‘father’ or ‘mother’. Goeree 1681, pp. 135-136; Alberti (V.17); Vingboons, in: Ottenheym 1989, p. 230 and p. 232. Stevin 1649, pp. 74, 95, 124. Stevin 1649, p. 43, referring to the Roman house. Stevin 1649, p. 56. Stevin 1649, p. 109. Stevin 1649, pp. 63-64. Stevin 1649, pp. 68-70. Stevin 1649, p. 63. The staircase, which is by Alberti and Palladio considered a difficult (not constructive) but necessary part of the house. Stevin 1649, pp. 67 en idem 63. Stevin 1649, pp. 65-67. Vitruvius (VI. 3-5); Sesam Atlas van de Bouwkunst I, the Italian atrium house, pp. 222-225. Vitruvius (VI.5). Vitruvius (VI.5; Peters 1997, pp. 179-180). Stevin 1649, p. 65. Stevin 1649, pp. 63 and 70 (‘voughelick’: in connection with not encumbering parts of the house and one's freedom); also ‘geschickt’ and ‘bequaem’; Palladio mentions ‘decorum’, ‘convenienza’ (suitability). Evans 1983, p. 6: ‘Contemporary Italian writers describing that large groups of people came together to spend time, to watch, to talk, to work or to eat, and that there were always events that turned out to be worthwhile'’ Evans 1983, p. 16. Evans 1983, p. 7. Evans 1983, p. 7. Evans 1983, p. 14. Waddy 1990. Stevin 1649, p. 66. Stevin 1649, pp. 65-67. Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. V): Stevin also wanted to pay attention to spiral staircases. Stevin 1649, p. 57 also mentions (the unsuitable) stairwells outdoors. Stevin 1649, p. 67. Goeree 1681, pp. 152 and 133. Alberti (I.12). Stevin 1649, pp. 81 and 72. Stevin 1649, p. 94. Alberti (I.9). Stevin 1649, pp. 92 and 94. Alberti (V.17) and Palladio (II.2). Stevin 1649, p. 94. Alberti (Watkins 1969, e.g. pp. 208-209, 222-224 ); Ranum 1989, pp. 190-191. Stevin 1649, pp. 73-74. 183 542. 543. 544. 545. 546. 547. 548. 549. 550. 551. 552. 553. 554. 555. 556. 557. 558. 559. 560. 561. 562. 563. 564. 565. 566. 567. 568. 569. 570. 571. 572. 573. 574. 575. 576. 577. 578. 579. 580. In case the master of the house instructs a maid to remove something from his office, he is advised to have two keys of his own, one for the office and the other for the boxes placed in the office. When he gives the maid the first key, she is denied access to the valuables. Her key can therefore open all the locks in the house, with the exception of her husband’s six, while neither her husband’s key nor the other thirty locks give access to her property. Stevin 1649, p. 56. Stevin 1649, pp. 24, 26. Stevin 1649, pp. 56, 123, 120. Stevin 1649, pp. 56 and 122. Stevin 1649, p. 123. Stevin 1649, p. 123. Stevin 1649, p. 124. Stevin 1649, p. 56. Stevin writes ‘Ten toon sitten’ [exhibiting themselves] (p. 57). Stevin 1649, pp. 24, 26. Stevin 1649, p. 96. Stevin 1649, p. 26. Stevin 1649, p. 24. Meischke 1982, p. 21. Meischke 1982, p. 20. Meischke 1982, p. 20. Corbin 1986, p. 18. Stevin 1649, p. 109; Goeree 1681, pp. 136-137. Van den Heuvel 1997A, pp. 154-176 also speaks of ‘intimate contact’ between the two. So, he interprets the event as a social issue. Alpers 1989, pp. 20 and 104. Van Eck 1998. Meischke 1988B, p. 139; Van den Heuvel 1991, p. 69-82; Rosenfeld 1978, p. 30, 37. Linfert 1993, pp. 17-19. Wittkower 1996; Schütte 1984, pp. 10 and 18-19; Oechslin 1981. Dijksterhuis 1943, 1950; Struik 1990; McLeish 1993. Stevin, Waterwichst, appendix, p. 68 (PWS I, p. 515) en p. 69 (PWS I, p. 516). Idem: Stevin, Meetdaet, Hoofdstuk 3, p. 115. Yates 1970, 1978 and 1988; Alpers 1983, pp. 102-104; Roob 1997; Hallyn 1990. Van der Schoot 1999, p. 32. Vitruvius (III.1). Hersey 1976, pp. 7-8 criticizes Wittkower for his use of ‘modern numbers’, which he considers only as abstractions that can be reduced to the value they represent in relation to other numbers. ‘To the Pythagoreans, who were essentially number magicians, numbers were not only quantities, they were qualities as well’. Alberti (IX, 5), p. 196. Alberti (IX.5; Leoni 1755, p. 195). Alberti (IX, 6; Leoni 1755, p. 198). ‘... Numbers, which are either innate with Harmony itself, or produced from other Proportions in a certain and regular Method. We find in Harmony those Numbers from whose mutual Relations we may form their several Proportions, as in the Duple, the Triple and the Quadriple...’And on p. 199: ‘There are some other natural Proportions for the Use of Structures, which are not borrowed from Numbers, but from Roots and Powers of Squares’, and further on: ‘These several Rules which we have here set down for the determining of Proportions, are the natural and proper Relations of Numbers and Quantities’. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 24 (PWS IV, p. 96). Alberti (IX, 5; Leoni 1755, p. 196). In modern terminology two-dimensional or three-dimensional figures. Alberti (IX, 5; Leoni 1755, p. 196) ; Serlio 1611, Fol. 2: ‘Now when a workeman hath seene a forme of some of the most necessary Superficies, he must proceed further, and learne to augment or diminish the same, and to turne them into other formes’. Stevin, L'Arithmetiqve, (PWS IIB, p. 478 resp. p. 488). Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 38. Thus the English translation of a phrase from Stevin’s Arithmetiqve, II, p. 398 (PWS IIB, p. 681). Stevin, Beghinselen der weighhconst, [p. 7] (PWS I, p. 54). Stevin, Meetdaet, Chapter 3, p. 114; Waterweight, appendix, p. 69 (PWS I, p. 516). By the way, Stevin points out that the knowledge of weight is even less, ‘om dat sijn oirspronklicke eyghenschappen en voorighen verborghen bleven’ [because its original qualities were hidden from its predecessors]. (Stevin, Meetdaet, p. 114). 184 581. 582. 583. 584. 585. 586. 587. 588. 589. 590. 591. 592. 593. 594. 595. 596. 597. 598. 599. 600. 601. 602. 603. 604. 605. 606. 607. 608. 609. 610. 611. 612. 613. 614. 615. 616. 617. 618. 619. 620. For the debate on natural numbers, mathematical rationality and the discovery of ‘irrational numbers’, see Van der Schoot 1999, pp. 38-39; Dijksterhuis 1929, Volume I. Van der Schoot 1999, p. 38: ‘rational, in the mathematical sense of the word: to be represented as a ratio of two whole numbers’. Stevin, Arithmetique, p. 34 (PWS IIB, p. 533). Dijksterhuis 1943, pp. 70-71. Straub 1964, p. 91. Stevin, Arithmetiqve, p. 294 (PWS IIB, p. 604). Stevin 1649, pp. 115-116. Van den Heuvel 1994B, p. 107. Van den Heuvel 1991, p. 145; Van den Heuvel 1994B; Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 68-69 and 90-98. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 98, and further pp. 55-56, 64-65, 68-69 and 94-95. Stevin, De Beghinselen des Waterwichts, p. 5 (PWS I, p. 384). Kristeller 1961, p. 67 states that Galileo claims something similar: ‘his conviction that mathematical relations can be exactly reproduced by material conditions is radically opposed to Plato’. Stevin, De Meetdaet, Chapter 3, p. 115. Stevin, Waterwicht, p. 5 (PWS I, p. 384). Stevin, Waterwicht, p. 9: VII Determination (PWS I, p. 392). Stevin, Weeghconst, p. 24 (PWS I, p. 142). Stevin, Waterwicht, p. 80 (PWS I, p. 518). See also Stevin, Weeghdaet, p. 32 (PWS I, p. 350). Stevin, Waterwicht, p. 68 (PWS I, p. 515); Stevin, Hemelloop, p. 118 (PWS III, p. 110). Kristeller 1961, p. 68 points to Galileo and his (similar) ‘claims for the absolute certainty of mathematical knowledge’. By the way, Kristeller considers this to be a typical platonic point of view. Struik, in: PWS IIB, pp. 463-473; Arithmetiqve (PWS IIB, pp. 511-512). Struik, General Introduction, in: PWS IIA, p. 5. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 7 (PWS IV, p. 64). Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 34 (PWS IV, p. 116). Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 1: ‘na den eysch vande middelen die de cloucke vianden nu ghebruijcken bom die [stercten] te overwinnen’ [demands matched with the means now used by the mighty enemies to overcome those [fortifications], (PWS IV, p. 52). Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, pp. 11 and 24 (PWS IV, pp. 72 resp. 96). Stevin, De Meetdaet, Chapter 3, p. 115. Stevin, Waterwicht, p. 80 and further p. 29 (PWS I, pp. 518 resp. 432); Stevin, De Meetdaet, Chapter 3, p. 115. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 26 (PWS IV, p. 100). Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 1 (PWS I, p. 52). Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 92 notes that this is ‘not a perspective drawing’, ‘but in fact a representation on the flat surface of a three-dimensional model’. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 27 (PWS IV, p. 102). Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, pp. 71-72 (PWS IV, pp. 190-192). Stevin 1649, p. 17. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, pp. 29-30 (PWS IV, pp. 106-108); Stevin, De Meetdaet, Chapter 2, p. 4; Stevin, Weeghconst, p. 65 (PWS I, p. 224). Molhuysen 1913, pp. 389-390. Stevin 1649, p. 40. Stevin 1649, p. 40: ‘...het dadelick maecksel en ander omstandigen inden eyghentlicken *Huysbou [Architectura] beschreven sijn’ [the actual making and the other circumstances are described in the actual*Huysbou [Architectura]. Stevin 1649, p. 17. Stevin 1649, p. 71. Stevin 1649, ‘In dese form sijn over al langhe rechte straten geteyckent’ [In this form long, straight streets are drawn] (p. 30[=22]); ‘rechte evewijdighe linien’ [straight parallel lines] and ‘rechte linien’ [straight lines] (p. 31 [=23]); ‘rechte straten by ghemeene reghel voor best houden’ [as a general rule, straight streets are considered the best] (p. 31 [= p. 23]); ‘In dese Stadt neem ick de straten over al breet 60 voeten’ [In this Town, I take the streets anywhere wide 60 feet], p. 26 [= p. 18]). Stevin 1649, p. 30 [= p. 23]. Stevin 1649, p. 17. Stevin 1649, pp. 30-31 [= pp. 22-23]. See section 1.2.1. One speaks of ‘the simple rehearsal of identical, square building blocks that provides such a convincing picture of the urban grid’ (Taverne 1984, p. 92); Van den Heuvel 1995B, p. 59: ‘The rectangular city (...) is composed of square building blocks’; Van der Hoeven & Louwe 1985, p. 58: ‘The 185 621. 622. 623. 624. 625. 626. 627. 628. 629. 630. 631. 632. 633. 634. 635. 636. 637. 638. 639. 640. 641. 642. 643. 644. 645. 646. plan is read as a composition of identical strips of standard plot blocks’. Stevin 1649, p. 31: ‘ghestippelde linien’ [dotted lines] and ‘getippelde straten [dotted streets]. According to Zedler 1732 (Schütte 1984, p. 213), the legal status of houses owned by ‘private persons’ means that these persons ‘mit keinen solchen Privilegien und Freyheuten, als die öffentlichen Häuser und Gebäude begabt sind’ [with no such privileges and freedoms as the public houses and buildings are endowed with]. See also Hugo de Groot (Dovring 1952, pp. 152-154) who, in his in ‘Van huisdienstbaerheden’ (From domestic obligations), makes arrangements for e.g. separation between fences, ‘vrylicht’ and clean water. Stevin 1649, p. 31 [= p. 23].Van Sterkenburg 1981, pp. 274 resp. 42. Stevin 1649, pp. 31-32 (= pp. 23-24). Peteri 1913. Stevin 1649, p. 30 [= p. 22], 54, 26-27 [= pp. 18-19] and 21. See also Guidoni 1974, pp. 4-19. Stevin 1649, p. 54 speaks of exceptionally narrow and deep yards: 20 to 30 feet wide and ranging from 200 to 300 feet deep, depending on the distance between two streets. In De Stercktenbovwing, p. 8, Stevin states that he uses ‘Delfsche voeten’[Delft feet], which at the same time contains 12 thumbs and corresponds to 31.39 cm. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 50; Haslinghuis 1986, p. 386. Stevin 1649, p. 26 [= p. 18]. Stevin 1649, p. 21. In bp.2.22.1 this block is indicated by number 26. Stevin 1649, p. 26 [= p. 18] and p. 21. On p. 27 [= p. 19] he speaks occasionally of ‘rivers'’ that serve to supply goods. In two other places he speaks of ‘havens’ [harbours], of the verb ‘havenen’ [landing], or ‘havening’ which indicates entering the harbour, landing or arrival (Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 94). Stevin 1649, p. 26 [= p. 18]. Stevin 1649, p. 24. Of the other blocks of houses, Stevin does not describe measurements in the text, but they can be deduced from the drawings. Given the standard size of a ‘square’ in a block (a ‘chamber of 30 by 30 feet’), the third block measures 8x30 (240) by 9x30 (270 feet); the fourth 300 by 210 feet; the fifth block 240 (8x30) by 540 feet (18x30). Stevin 1649, pp. 21-22. Stevin 1649, pp. 20-21. Stevin 1649, p. 7. Stevin 1649, p. 26 [= p. 18]. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 97. Stevin 1649, pp. 27 [= p. 19] and 20. Vitruvius (I.1). Idem Stevin (1617) where the mathematical drawing of an army that remains the same for a long time consists of ‘squares’ that can indicate both the things that need to be ordered (the taxonomy, the ordinatio) as on the relationships of proximity between the things themselves (the disposition of the parts). Vitruvius (I.2.). See also the difference in indication of the Vorstelick Hof [Princely Court] in the town drawing and in the drawing made out of squares that is included in the text. Stevin 1649, pp. 24-30. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 50-51 speaks in this one of ‘bringing together in an orderly manner, at 't saemschicking as Stevin calls it elsewhere, a number of rooms that together form a dwelling’. Stevin 1649, pp. 51 and 116. The block formed in this way is a rectangle with a length of eight squares and a width of six squares. ABCDEF is a house, with E as the place of light, and MNOPQ with O (two squares) as the place of light, and GHIKL with I (two squares) as the place of light. Where E touches P, I and O D, there are windowless walls. Chambers A, C, Q and M get their light from the street, D, N, P, K and L just from the light location, while F, B, H, G, can receive their light from both street and light location. Stevin 1649, p. 25. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 46, 51 and 1997B, p. 53. Beeckman lists some parts which Stevin had foreseen for the 6th chapter and which are not included in the published treatise: 1. Van de vervoeginge der lichtplaetsen eens huys; 4. Van de vervoegingh der camers of percken, die samen een huys maken; 6. Van de vervoeghingh der gaelderyen; 7. Van de vervoegingh der stucken, die in camers of percken vereyscht zijn, als steyghers, portalen, schoorsteenen, schryfkasten, heymelicken, fonteynen, brandinghplaetsen, regenpypen, leuven.’ [1. On the conjugation of the courtyards; 4. On the conjugation of the chambers or places, which together make a house; 6. On the joining of the galleries; 7. On the conjugation of the parts which are necessary in chambers or places, as staircase, portals, chimneys, place sto write, privies, fountains, fireplaces, rain pipes] (De Waard 1942, 186 647. 648. 649. 650. 651. 652. 653. 654. 655. 656. 657. 658. 659. 660. 661. 662. 663. 664. 665. 666. 667. 668. 669. 670. 671. 672. pp. VI-VII). Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 51 writes about this: ‘Stevin sees the ‘vervouging’ of the rooms as an arrangement. This arrangement is based on the properties described in the first book. In any case, this means that the principle of equilateral symmetry is respected’. Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 274. Twenty courtyards are located on the outside of the house. Apart from the courtyard with the size of a square on the four corners, it makes no difference (as shown in the drawing) for the free light in chambers whether a courtyard is one or two squares large. However, if this courtyard is completely lacking, there are sixteen (and not twenty) times two chambers each, and four times (at the corners) one chamber without light. The sixteen places of light (large two squares) are located in the inside of the drawing, in all the places where the rows of double chambers cross. If the light is missing here, then four chambers are without light. Van den Heuvels remark (1995A, p. 50, note 172) that there are nevertheless 20 chambers without light is therefore a misunderstanding. Stevin’s remark on p. 59, on which Van den Heuvel relies, does not so much concern the darkness of a chamber (because the chamber receives light through the façade), but the fact that the chamber is not adjacent to the courtyard. Stevin 1649, p. 53. Stevin indicates in his text (1649, p. 24) that each square has a side of 30 feet (that is, depending on the foot size, almost 10 m.). Stevin 1649, pp. 24-25. Stevin 1649, p. 25. Stevin 1649, pp. 25-26. Stevin 1649, pp. 53-54 and 67. According to De Waard (1942, pp. IV-VI) this paragraph is identical to the paragraph noted by Beeckman ‘Van de vervoeginge der lichtplaetsen eens blocks burgerlicke huysen’. Stevin 1649, pp. 28-30. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 51 comments on this: ‘Although there may be several types of housing within a block and possibly a related social stratification, they are arranged in one larger whole’. Although the most detailed drawing shows an elaboration in which ‘wall thicknesses’ are included, they do not detract from the ‘broad outlines’ of the arrangement. See 2.2.3. Stevin 1649, pp. 60-61. Stevin, 1649, pp. 64-65: ‘Die de verdeeling deser camerpercken niet an en stonde maer de camers liever soo veel ruymer begheerde, souder die, of soo veel alsser hem te veel docht, moghen uytlaten’ [If someone does not like the division of these chambers and would rather have a much larger chamber, he should leave out as much as he thinks is too much], see p. 116. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 27 (PWS IV, p. 102). Stevin 1649, pp. 60-61. Stevin 1649, p. 60. Stevin 1649, p. 65. Stevin 1649, p. 61. For the sake of legibility, I will leave out this indication in the text below. In ancient architecture, as Geertman 1997, p. 21 shows, conscious use was made of existing mathematical knowledge. ‘Within the framework of the originally Pythagorean proportions, the systematic use of geometrical concepts - both figures and proportions - and their mathematical approximations is one of the characteristics of late Republican and Hellenistic design. This geometric-arithmetic design science had a artisanal, a design-technical and a theoretical-aesthetic level’. Günther 1988; Schütte 1984; Oechslin 1984; Stenvert 1991, pp. 223-231. Paciolo, for example, included the series in his Summa (1494) and placed it at the centre of his Divina Proportione (1509). Stevin is familiar with the Summa of Leonardo of Pisa and refers explicitly to the Summa of Paciolo in his Arithmétique (1585, p. 268). Cantor 1913, Volume II (1200-1668); Gravelaar 1902, pp. 106-193; Struik 1990, pp. 109-110. Stevin, De Meetdaet, Chapter 3. Wittkower has also made school in the Netherlands. See also the work of De Jongh 1973 (p. 106); Ottenheym 1989, 1991A (p. 34: ‘groundbreaking work’), Terwen & Ottenheym 1993 (pp. 33-34, n. 2 and n. 5). Winterberg 1889; Pfeifer 1885; Snijders 19690; Huntley 1970; Gout 1983; Hagenmaier 1963; Beutelspacher 1989; Van Splunter 1994. For a critical overview and genealogy see Van der Schoot 1999. Bennett 1991; Van der Schoot 1999; Neal 1999; Van Eck 1999. Partly, as Neal (1999, pp. 151-152) argues, because the elevation of mathematics advocated in early modern times has been understood as a reflection of its real increase in importance and not – as she demonstrates – as part of a rhetorical intervention by mathematicians to shield themselves from occult 187 673. 674. 675. 676. 677. 678. 679. 680. 681. 682. 683. 684. 685. 686. 687. 688. 689. 690. 691. 692. 693. 694. 695. 696. 697. 698. claims. Bennett 1991, p. 176. The third proposal, pp. 136-137. Van der Schoot 1999 discusses the subject on pp. 385-389, Appendix I, although without mentioning Stevin’s explanation. He only mentions (p. 117) Stevin’s construction of a dodecahedron (twelve plane). PWS II, p. 8. As an argument for not including Stevin’s more ‘practical’ writings in the PWS, the editors (p. 764) state that they do not offer any new (scientific) insights. From a cultural-historical point of view, it is precisely these works that are a gold mine. Stevin (Sercktenbouwing) dissociates himself on this point from the mathematician Ramus who strongly criticized Euclid’s work. Van den Heuvel 1994B, p. 110. See 2.2.3. Dijksterhuis 1929, II, p. 113: Book VI, definition III, prop. XXX. Stevin, De Meetdaet, p. 137 (on the subject of algebra, he speaks of ‘stelreghel’). ‘Een gegeven rechte linie deur uyterste en middel reden te snyen’. Stevin draws two lines perpendicular to each other, lines of equal length (AB and BC). BC is then divided into two equal parts, so that CE is as long as EB. He then draws the line segment EA (the diagonal of the virtual rectangle EBAA’ (with a ratio of EB:BA = 1:2) in line with EB, in such a way that the line segment EA is as large as EF. The line segment BF then fits Stevin to the line segment BA in such a way that BF=BG. Point G divides the line segment AB in such a way that BG and GA are the extreme and middle reason. Struik, PWS IIB, p. 469; Euclid, in Dijksterhuis 1930, Part II, final 11. (p. 598) and p. 2; Van der Schoot 1999, pp. 30, 210-211 and 391-392. Stevin, De Meetdaet, p. 137. Von Naredi-Rainer 1982 points out that every third number of the Fibonacci-series can be halved: next to 34, also 17 belongs to this sequence of numbers, and with 8 also 4 belongs to it. The series thus generated (apart from the smallest) is relevant to Stevin’s drawing: 1:1:2:3:(4):5:8:13:(17):21:34. The ground drawing can be seen as a rectangular shape (34x17 feet) in the middle, from which both side wings protrude (34x21 feet). These in turn produce new lines. Starting from the numbers 13, 8, 5 and 4 which can be either vertically or horizontally a rhythm. Vertically 4:4:5:4, horizontally 5:8:8:5. PWS IIB, pp. 595-305. Struikin: PWS IIB, pp. 468-470. PWS p. 469. When a square (or rectangle) is taken from a larger square (or rectangle), an L-shaped figure remains. This L-figure can then be changed in such a way that a new figure is generated. They are divided into a number of smaller quadrangles, but together they retain the same surface area. Steadman 1983 uses the term for the way in which Dürer uses a grid to make shape changes in living beings. Which does not mean that mathematicians do not remain fascinated by the miraculous properties of the numbers produced by Nature. For example, the ‘rabbit series’ of Fibonacci (formulated on the basis of the reproduction of a pair of rabbits and the speed at which the offspring increases in size) appears to possess many more interesting qualities. So much so, in fact, that a special magazine (The Fibonacci Quarterly has been in existence for several years in which the findings are published. Hersey 1992. The cover text refers to a Macintosh program that ‘allows the user to design Palladian villas by applying the rules discribed in the book’. Hersey 1992, pp. 2-3; Rowe 1976; Steadman 1983, pp. 250-268; Mitchell 1990, pp. 152-181; Grassi 1997. The forms do not appear to be random, but part of generative patterns. Elkins 1994, pp. 230-232. Elkins 1994, p. 227. Veltman 1995, pp. 212-213. Romein-Verschoor 1977A, p. 207; Hollander 1991, p. 39; Van den Heuvel 1995B, p. 61, 1995A, p. 45 (‘the constructive and material aspects of the structure’), p. 76. As an explanation one mentions that this knowledge has been lost (Romein-Verschoor) or the difficulty of combining practical matters ‘with his theoretical, relatively abstract presentations of the house and the city’ (Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 70). Ottenheym 1989, p. 159; Terwen & Ottenheym 1993, pp. 216-217; Ottenheym 1997, p. 106; Bezemer Sellers 1997, p. 128 (‘experimented with the application of the classical ideals of harmony and proportion’) and p. 131 (‘classical Italian mathematical systems of proportion’, ‘mathematicians like Hondius and Stevin’); Van den Heuvel 1997B, 1995A. In this last work Van den Heuvel starts with the statement that Stevin is ‘one of the greatest scholars of his time’, and ‘as a mathematician he enjoyed an 188 699. 700. 701. 702. 703. 704. 705. 706. 707. 708. 709. 710. 711. 712. 713. 714. 715. 716. 717. 718. 719. 720. 721. enormous reputation’. Furthermore, on p. 28, he points to Stevin’s ‘theoretical interest in mathematics’. Mok 1988. Van den Heuvel 1995A calls Stevin’s architectural treatise ‘fundamentally different’ from tradition because of the ‘great attention paid to civil-engineering aspects of architecture’ (p. 5), such as with regard to Building technology and patents’ (pp. 70-7) and about watermanagement (pp. 78-89). Ditto Van den Heuvel 1994A, p. 5; Taverne 1978, p. 41 ‘civil engineering interest’; ditto Konvitz 1978. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 88-89. Ditto: Van der Hoeven 1985, p. 64 (Stevin ‘returns to the tradition of the Dutch water city’); Grafe 1993, p. 80: ‘trading city with an inner harbour that closely matches reality’. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 100; Taverne 1978, p. 48; Bodar 1984. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 47. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 45 and further: ‘Precisely from this combination of a critical attitude otowards vitruvianism in the narrow sense [the order of the columns] and Stevin’s more general views on scientific methods (...) the order of Stevin’s architecture must be understood as urbanism’. See also p. 45. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 45; Van den Heuvel 1994A, p. 11; De Jonge 1998, p. 286; Ottenheym 1989; Terwen 1993. De Jongh 1973, pp. 86-87; Ottenheym 1989, 1991, Terwen & Ottenheym 1993. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 109 and 1997B. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 107 and p. 109. Stevin 1649, pp. 11-16 (‘Vande bepalingh en beschrijvingh der Lycksydigheydt’), pp. 113 [=103] - 107 (‘Vant cieraet der Gevels’), pp. 107-113 and 115 ('Inhoudende sommighe gheschillen’, ‘Op maten der pilaren met haer ancleving’, ‘Opt gebruyck der pliaren tot cieraet’, ‘Op beeldich cieraat, op nitsen en op *Clocken, en op Acroteria of pedestalen’, ‘Op hoochde der cameren na reden haer der lange en breede; en op redens van langde en breede der camers’ [On the determination and description of the congruity, pp. 113 [=103] - 107 (On the ornament of the Façades), pp. 107-113 and 115 (On some disputes, On the measures of the columns with what belongs to them, On the use of the columns for ornament, On the ornament of a sculpture, on niches and on *Clockes, and on Acroteria or pedestals,'On the height of Chambers according to the ratio of length and width of the chambers]. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, p. 59 confirms that in the 16th century ‘modern’ still referred to Gothic art and ‘antique’ to ancient (or derived from Roman and Greek) art; for Van Mander ‘modern’ refers to ‘contemporary’ art; De Jongh 1973, pp. 85-145: De Bray and Danckerts (in the sense of ‘new’). Alberti (VI.1: Leoni 1755, p. 111) juxtaposes ‘Whims of the Moderns’ with ‘great and noble Instructions of Ancient Authors’. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 9. This period lasts, says Stevin in 1600 from 900-1000 years ago to about 150 to 200 years ago (Ditto Stevin 1649, p. 105). Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 9. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 9-15. De Jongh 1973, pp. 125 and 127. De Jongh 1973, p. 92, for example, points out that the humanists regarded the Goths ‘as founders of the long and dark period of the Middle Ages and that, as a result, the medieval inheritance was called to carry all the evil characteristics of the Goths’. Smith 1992, pp. xiv-xv already pointed out that this art historical separation is by no means demonstrable in the source material of the early Renaissance. Stevin 1649, p. 105. Panofsky 19460 pp. 413-431. De Bray 1671. p. 5. Wotton (1624), p. 51 schrijft: ‘the Gothes or Lumbards, amongst other Reliques of that barbarous Age’. Hart 1998, p. 297. Vingboons 1648, p. B2 in: Ottenheym 1989, p. 188. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 126. Emmens 1964, p. 53; Van de Waal 1952, pp. 71-72. De Jongh 1973, p. 88: ‘Little could be expected of artists who conformed to classical precepts other than to regard Gothic as an aberration. As the century progressed, it seemed as if everyone, in addition to less appreciation, showed less understanding for the architectural legacy of the past’. Alberti (Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 61) speaks of the antiquities and the Ancients (before). In De re Aedificatoria (VI.3) he speaks of the Ancients and distinguishes youth (Asia), bloom (Greeks) and full maturity (Italy). Vingboons (Ottenheym 1989, p. 187) mentions Asia as the oldest provenance and then the Greeks, although he weaves biblical history through it. So did De Bray 1671, p. 1: ‘Nopende hare Oudheydt, achterstellende de Griecken, wy komen tot den Hebreen als veel ouder’ [Forced by its antiquity, leaving the Greeks behind, we arrive at the Hebrew as much older]. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 15. Ditto De Bray, who says about the architecture of ‘onse oude Voor-vaderen’ [our old ancestors] (1671, p. 1): ‘t zy dan of dat het licht der Bouw-konst noch tot hen niet gekomen: oft met 189 een voorigen wyseren tijdt by hen vergeten was’ [It is as if the light of building art had not yet come to them, or that a previously wise time had been forgotten by them]. 722. 723. 724. 725. 726. 727. 728. 729. 730. 731. 732. 733. 734. 735. 736. 737. 738. 739. 740. 741. 742. 743. 744. 745. 746. 747. 748. 749. 750. 751. 752. 753. 754. 755. 756. 757. 758. 759. 760. 761. Stevin, Wysenttjt pp. 10, idem 9. Stevin 1649, p. 13: ‘de seer oude Boumeesters, die lange voor Vitruvius waren’ [the very old Architects, who were long before Vitruvius]; see also pp. 16, 41 and 104. Stevin 1649, p. 42 (Vitrivius, VI.3); p. 45 (Vitruvius VI.4 [must be Chapter 3]); p. 48 (Vitruvius VI.10 [must be Chapter 7]); p. 48 (Vitruvius, VI.10) hooftstick); p. 83 (Vitruvius VIII); p. 109 (Vitruvius I.2); p. 110 (Vitruvius IV); p. 111 (Vitruvius); p. 113 (Vitruvius I); p. 113 (Vitruvius III.3); p. 115 (Vitruvius VI.1). In Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 36 (Vitruvius I.5). Stevin 1649, p. 41. Stevin 1649, pp.14, idem 42, 105, 107. Stevin 1649, p. 14. Stevin mentions Barbaro (p. 105), Alberti (pp. 80, 101 and 110), Palladio (p. 83) and Serlio (pp. 13, 110, 120). For Barbaro see Tzonis 1984, Van Eck 1999, De Boer 1978, Hart 1998, Guillaume 1988, Wittkower 1996 and Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 47. Stevin 1649, p. 115. Stevin 1649, pp. 106-107. ‘... datmen de achtbaerheydt meer gheloof gheloof gheeft dan de reden’, [that one gives more credibility to dignity than to reason]. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing (PWS IV, p. 146). Stevin, De Hemelloop. Ditto Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 42 (PWS IV, p. 132). Stevin 1649, p. 110. Stevin 1649, p. 107. Alberti (IX.7). Stevin 1649, pp. 112-113. For similar statements, see besides Alberti also Da Vinci and Dürer (Chapter 4). Alberti (IX.8; Leoni 1755, p. 202). Van Eck 1994, pp. 43-48. Stevin 1649, p. 107. Stevin 1649, 109 refers to Vitruvius (I.2), where he discusses Decorum in terms of current regulations, tradition and adaptation to Nature. For Stevin’s conception of the habit as ‘second nature’, see: Dialectike, Voorwoord [Foreword]. Kelley 1990. Stevin 1649, pp. 100 and 109. Stevin 1649, p. 109. Stevin 1649, p. 109. Stevin 1649, p. 100. Van Coecke van Aelst (translator of Vitruvius and Serlio) posthumously published a series of woodcuts Les Moeurs et fachon de faire des Turcz (1553). De Jonge 1998, p. 282. Stevin 1649, p. 104. Stevin 1649, pp. 104, 111. Ditto Vitruvius (V.1), Palladio (I.12). Stevin 1649, pp. 104-105; idem Stevin, Stercktenbouwing (PWS IV, p. 186). Stevin 1649, pp. 105 and 106. Stevin 1649, p. 105. Stevin 1649, p. 105. There are still architectural drawings of the façade of the cathedral in Strasbourg (1245-1277). Martindale 1974, pp. 96-97 and 121 (three prophets of the western front, ca. 1300). The pillars in the nave with side aisles are primarily used ‘tot gerief’ [for convenience], i.e. to carry the loads of the building and to bridge the wide spaces. The ornamentation – especially in the entrance portal – is overwhelmingly detailed and consists of both figurative elements and details of flora and fauna. Stevin 1649, p. 111. He emphasizes that other master builders also warn of this in their writings. Stevin 1649, pp. 111-112. Stevin 1649, pp. 105, 106 and 125. Stevin 1649, p. 106. Stevin 1649, pp. 113 [= p. 103], 60, 106. Stevin 1649, p. 113 [= p. 103]. Stevin 1649, p. 113. Stevin 1649, p. 113. Stevin 1649, p. 111. Stevin 1649, p. 113. Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 8. Stevin 1649, p. 108; Vitruvius (IV.1), Alberti (VII.6). 190 762. 763. 764. 765. 766. 767. 768. 769. 770. 771. 772. 773. 774. 775. 776. 777. 778. 779. 780. 781. 782. 783. 784. 785. 786. 787. 788. 789. 790. 791. 792. 793. 794. 795. 796. 797. 798. 799. 800. 801. Stevin 1649, pp. 107-108. Stevin 1649, p. 108. Vitruvius (IV.1). Stevin 1649, pp. 108-109. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 48. Both Alberti and Palladio (I.12) claim to have measured the ancient remains. Stevin refers to Serlio, who discusses antique buildings in book III. Stevin 1649, p. 110. Stevin 1649, p. 109. Introduced for the first time by Serlio. In the Netherlands and England the colossal order is also applied in façades (Hart 1998, p. 306). Llewellyn 1998, p. 139. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 127. Stevin 1649, pp. 109-110. Stevin 1649, p. 107. Stevin 1649, pp. 110, 107, 108 en 109. Stevin 1649, p. 107. And, Stevin says with reference to ‘andere bouwmeesters uit zijn eigen tijd’ [other master builders of his own time], he is not the only one who doubts. Stevin 1649, p. 111. Stevin 1649, pp. 113 [= p. 103] and 105-106. Stevin 1649, p. 112. Stevin, in: Beeckman (De Waard 1942, p. 399). Stevin 1649, p. 111. Stevin 1649, p. 112: ‘de gene die inde moeyheyt der pilaren soo groot vermaeck hebben’ [the one who takes great pleasure in the loveliness of the pilars]. Stevin 1649, p. 109. Hart 1998, p. 316. Wilkinson 1985. Ottenheym 1989, p. 188 (p. B2). Van Mander points out that ‘in de Metselrije een groote Ketterije’ plaatsvond, ‘met eenen hoop raeserije van cieraten/ en brekinge der Pilasters/ in ‘t midden/ en op de Pedestateln voeghende hun aenghewende grove puncten van Diamanten/ en derghelijke lammicheeyt/ seer walghelijck om aen te sien’ [a great heresy’ took place ‘in the masonry, with a lot of insanity of jewels/ and destroying the Pillars/ in the middle/ and on the Pedestal they put their adjusted, coarse points of Diamonds/ and such lameness/ very disgusting to look at’ (De Jongh 1973, p.). 100); Huygens (1653) speaks of the ‘vuyle Gotsche schell’ [dirty Gottish shells] removed by Van Campen (De Jongh 1973, p. 85). Van Hoogstraten (1678) writes that one should ‘Veel bouwsieraden moet vermijen’ [avoid a lot of building jewellery] (De Jongh 1973, p. 102). De Jongh 1973, p. 101 sees ‘gothic architecture’ and ‘classical symmetry’ as opposites, which is therefore incorrect. Forssman 1956. Vasari uses the term ‘lavoro tedesco’, but does not speak of ‘Gothic’ (De Jongh 1973, pp. 99, 93 and 136137, 94). Vingboons 1648, p. B2 (Ottenheym 1989, p. 188) speaks of ‘German’ buildings and calls them ‘modern’; Forssman 1956. Stevin 1649, p. 113 [= p. 103]. Stevin 1649, 113 [= p. 103]. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 264, n. 2; pp. 336-337. Van den Heuvel 1995A (pp. 46-69), 1997A, 1995B, p. 57: ‘In short, our modern definition of this term’. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 50: ‘varied while maintaining symmetry’; p. 51: ‘is symmetry respected’; p. 51: ‘In any case, this means that the starting point of the equilateral symmetry is respected’; p. 52: ‘After the arrangement of these rooms into a dwelling based on symmetry’. Ottenheym 1999B, p. 98. Stevin 1649, p. 12. Vitruvius (a.o. in: I.2, III.1, VI) speaks of ‘symmetry’, ‘eurythmy’ and ‘proportion’. Stevin 1649, p. 14. See also Alberti (I.9), Palladio (I.1), Coecke van Aelst, p. A8v. Vitruvius (I.2). Stevin 1649, p. 15. In his Dialectike (p. 16) Stevin elaborates a similar case of the fallacy (*verhael des begins sijnde [Repetitio Principii]). Stevin 1649, p. 14. Wittkower 1996, p. 170. Tigler 1963, p. 69. See Van Eck 1994, pp. 42-46; Tzonis 1984. 191 802. 803. 804. 805. 806. 807. 808. 809. 810. 811. 812. 813. 814. 815. 816. 817. 818. 819. 820. 821. 822. 823. 824. Vitruvius (III.1); Wittkower 1996; Millon 1994. Filarete, for example, derives the parts of a building structure from the parts of the human body (Tigler 1963, pp. 69-71). Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 47 and 1994B; Ungers 1994, pp. 306-309. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 47 en 1994B, p. 99; Ottenheym 1991, p. 17; Ungers 1994, p. 310: ‘In Renaissance architectural theory, the proportions of the human body assumed a crucial role in the formulation of the architectural orders. Ever since Vitruvius, architecture had established an anthropomorphic matrix both for the building as a whole, and for its separate elements, or “ornaments”’. Wittkower 1996, p. 20. Alberti (IX.8; Leoni 1755, p. 202). Stevin 1649, p. 13. Stevin 1649, pp. 14-15. Stevin 1649, p. 14. Stevin 1649, p. 11. Stevin 1649, p. 12: regarding ‘Lijckzijdicheyt’: ‘der rechter en slincker deelen eens lichaems overeencommingh’ [correspondence of the right and left parts of the body]; p. 12: ‘de deelen haerder rechter sijde... met die der slijncker’ [the parts of her right side... with those of the left]; p. 14: concerning ‘Saemmaticheydt’ [equability]: ‘vande rechte ende slijcker sijde eens gestichts t’samen moeten overeencommen’ [the right and left sides of a building must correspond to each other]; p. 15: ‘Saemmaticheyt’ is ‘een t’samen overeencomming ... van rechter ende slincker syde...’ [an agreement together ... of the right and the left side...]; p. 16: ‘op d’een sijde der Steden soo te veroirdenen, als op d’ander’ [arranging on one side of Towns as on the other]. Van den Heuvel 1997B, p. 53; for symmetry, see also Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 46-69; Alberti (IX.5). Vitruvius (III.2, VI.3), Palladio (I.21, I.23), Serlio (VI, F6, H8). Stevin 1649: ‘overeencommingh in form, grootheyt ende ghestalt’ [similarity in form, size and quality], ‘dat de deelen haerder rechter sijde evengroot, lijckformich en lijckstatich sijn met die der slijncker’ [that the parts of its right side are of equal size, form and condition with those of the left], ‘die sijn met malcander evegroot, lijckformich, oock vande middeldeelen evewijt en in gelijcker gestalt’ [which are of equal size, uniformity and width from the middle, and of equal stature] (p. 12); ‘lijckstandig’, ‘Lijckformich en evegroot zijn met malcander’ [equal condition, being equal and of the same size with one another] (p. 13); ‘een t’samen overeencomming van de maten der lijckformige deelen van rechter ende slincker syde’ [a joint agreement of the sizes of the uniform parts of the right and left side] (p. 15). Stevin 1649, p. 12: ‘Maer somen de selve middeldelen wil aensien voor besonder lichamen’ [whereby the same middle parts will be regarded as separate bodies]. And thus not in the Platonic sense, Van Eck 1994, p. 53: ‘Hence, this harmony cannot be interpreted in the terms of Platonism, with its dismissals of sensory experience, and its concentration instead on the intellectual grasp of the mathematical structure of the universe, which is hidden from the senses’. For the little attention paid to Plato’s work in the early architectural theory of the Renaissance, see Smith 1992, pp. 128-129. Stevin 1649, p. 13 speaks of ‘diersche lycksijdicheyt’ [animal congruity], see also Van den Heuvel 1995A, p.46 and p. 66. Beeckman, folio 231 recto line 36: ‘T gebou moet sijn gelijck een dier ‘t sij vogel, visch of cruijpende’ [the building must be like an animal, whether it be a bird, fish or crawling animal] (Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 66, note 235). At Alberti (IX.5) this is the rule of concinnitas. Leoni 1755, p. 195 translates this rule as the law of congruence, which comes very close to Stevin’s explanation. Van Eck 1994, pp. 48-56. Stevin 1649, p. 12. Stevin 1649, p. 12: ‘en de leden van diens soorte sy maer een en hebben, die staen ordentelijck in ‘t middel, tusschen beyde’ [and the members of the species of which they have only one, stand orderly in the middle, between the two]. Alberti (IX.5; Leoni 1755, pp. 195-196): ‘The first Thing they observed, as to Number, was that it was of two Sorts, even and oneven, and they made use of both, but in different Occasions’. Stevin 1649, p. 12, Ditto Alberti (IX.5). Alberti (IX. 5; Leoni 1755, p. 194): ‘The most expert Artists among the Ancients, as we have observed elsewhere, were of Opinion, that an edifice was like an Animal, so that in the Formation of it we ought to imitate Nature’. Stevin 1649, pp. 12-13. Alberti (II.1, I.5); Alberti, Della Pittura (Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 103), Vitruvius (III.1). Van Eck 1994, p. 51: ‘... Alberti considers the unity, based on concinnitas, of all kinds of qualitative and quantitative oppositions to be more fundamental that the use of modular proportion; 192 825. 826. 827. 828. 829. 830. 831. 832. 833. 834. 835. 836. 837. 838. 839. 840. above all, we should concentrate on imitating methods rather than the appearance of nature’. Stevin 1649, pp. 12, 112. Others share this view, as will be seen in Chapter 4 in particular. For example, Dürer 1622, p. 214, writes: ‘Op dese wijse moet men toesien/ opdat het werck niet tot een alteseer vreemde en onnatuerlicke wijse gevrocht worde/ ten waer dat men Monsterdingen/ en gelijcksaem der droomen/ geslacht uytbeelden wilde/ alwaer aller dingen natueren onder malcanderen vermengt worden’. [In this way one should see to it that the work is not made too strange and unnatural/ except when one wants to depict Monsters/ and as in dreams the species/ in which the natures of all things are mixed together]. Vitruvius mentions the Roman house (VI.3) and the Greek house (IV.7), Palladio deals with the Greek house (II.11). Stevin 1649, pp. 11, 13, 14, 41-42, 50. Stevin 1649, pp. 13-14. According to Stevin, Serlio compares the wrong parts of the bathtub with each other by starting from central symmetry, in which all four sides must be equal to each other. Serlio describes the Thermae of Diocletian in Book III (about the ‘Antiques’). Stevin here correctly refers to the 3 Boeck, 4 Cap. In his Stercktenbouwing, pp. 41-42, Stevin refers in more detail to Book III: ‘Inde ghedruckte formen by Sebastian Serlius Antiquitatum lib 3 overgheset uijt het Italiaens int Latin door Ioannes Carolus Saracenus’. Schukking (in: PWS IV, p. 133, note 1) wrongly regards this work as not belonging to Serlio’s ‘well-known Architectura’. In 1558 Hieronymus Cock published a separate publication on Dioletian's bathhouse, drawn by the military engineer Sebastiaan van Noyen, consisting of 27 engravings with floor plans, cross-sections, façades and perspective. (De Jong 1998, p. 295). Van den Heuvel 1997B, p. 58. Stevin 1649, p. 41. Stevin 1649, block of houses (pp. 24-30); house (pp. 60-63) and ‘Vande Lijcksydighe vergrooting der Stadt’ (pp. 31-33); ‘om met een Lijcksydighe oirdeningh te vergrooten’ [to enlarge with a congruent arrangement] and ‘om de Lijcksydicheydts will’ [for the sake of congruence] (p. 31). Stevin 1649, ‘Voort heeftet onsen Schepper soo geschickt’ [Furthermore, our Maker has determined it like this] (p. 12); ‘de Natuer of Schepper’ [Nature or Maker] (p. 13). Van Eck 1994, p. 52: ‘... Alberti never spoke of nature as something different from the sensible, empirical created world; also, he never spoke of Ideas in the Platonic sense in De re aedificatoria; and what is more important, he repeatedly spoke of the inherence of beauty or concinnitas in the works of nature and man’. In the ancient conception, beauty is in the same way related to relational properties such as order, size, shape and mutual relationships, see Grassi 1980, pp. 87-89. Stevin 1649, p. 117: ‘De Daken (die gemeenelick onbehaegelicker int gesicht syn dan gevels) en vvorden hier niet gesien, maer commen de schone gevels alleen int gesicht.’ [The Roofs (which are generally more unpleasant to look at than façades) are not visible here, and only the beautiful façades can be seen]. In addition, he uses the term ‘moeyheyt’, [well-made] (p. 112), ‘schoone stoffe, constelick gevvrocht, en de menschen soo seer behagende, datse daer me de gestichten vercierden’ [fine fabrics, made according to the rules of art, and which pleased the people so much that they decorated the buildings with them] (p. 104). Alberti, (Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 107): ‘Just as in food and in music new things and abundance please us for various reasons but above all because they are different from the old ones to which we are accustomed, so the mind takes great pleasure in great diversity and abundance. That is why in a painting the variety of bodies and colours is pleasant’. Alberti (IX.5; Leoni 1755, p. 194): ‘But the Judgement which you make that a Thing is beautiful, does not proceed from mere Opinion, but from a Secret Argument and Discourse implanted in the Mind itself’. Alberti (IX.5; Leoni 1755, p. 195). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 199 also makes such a distinction: ‘Datmen het gemoet niet altijts in een zelve zaek moet bezich houden, maer somtijts tot vermaek noodigen (...) want zy wat gerust hebbende, rijst beter en wakkerder weer op’ [The mind should not always be occupied with the same thing, but should sometimes be stimulated to enjoy itself (...) for when the mind has rested a little, it can go on better and more alertly]. Stevin 1649, pp. 111-112 and 115: ‘... dat ymant vvil seggen, dat een contoir van 3 voeten breet en 6 voeten hooch, a mishagelicke form soude vvesen, ’t is opinie’ [... that someone will say, that a cupboard 3 feet wide and 6 feet high is an ugly shape, is only an opinion]. Geertman 1997, p. 20, pointed out that Vitruvius did not (as is assumed) place the concept of symmetry at the centre of his attention. Proportionality and symmetry are always functions of the design as a whole. They are subordinate to this and can be adapted is his conclusion. Van Eck 1994, p. 50. Dürer speaks of ‘Vergleichlichkeit’, ‘convenientie’ (Dürer 1622, p. 218), see also Strauss 1977, p. 10. 193 841. 842. 843. 844. 845. 846. 847. 848. 849. 850. 851. 852. 853. 854. 855. 856. 857 858. 859. 860. 861. 862. Van Eck 1994, p. 48. Stevin 1649: ‘lelik int ansien’ [ugly to see] (p. 57) and ‘mishaghelijck’ [unpleasant] (p. 115). Stevin 1649, pp. 15-16. One takes pleasure in unevenness which has led to the proverb ‘*verscheydentheydt behaecht [Varietas delectat]', according to Stevin 1649, p. 15. Stevin refers to (and criticizes) Alberti’s statement about the pleasantness of a varied townscape. Stevin 1649, p. 11. Van Eck 1994, p. 54. The term ‘evenredenheyd’ (Vitruvius, III.1, Latin ‘proportio’, Greek ‘analogia’) occurs in De Bray (1971), in Danckertsz. (1658) Scamozzi-edition (De Jongh 1973, pp. 110-111). Blom 1999, p. 23. Huygens writes this on fol. 748, shortly after he mentions Stevin in another context [Steuin van 't Wellsand]. On the basis of the foregoing, Blom’s translation at this point does not seem correct to me: ‘The construction of the coach house in the same year, mirror-like, but without exactly measured parts, as will be shown below’. See also Kamphuis 1962; Ottenheym 1999B, p. 98. Ottenheym 1999B, pp. 98 and 108, n. 62: from Worp VIII, p. 143 (Oct 8, 1676). Goeree 1681: ‘gelijkzijdigheid geeft een deftige beschouwing’ [congruence gives a dignified appearance] (p. 127, in de marge); ‘ongelijkzijdigheid’ [incongruence] (p. 139); ‘wanneer de Deuren en Ingangen de Kamers en Vertrekken, dubbel, dat is, regulier of gelijkzijdig zijn’ [when the Doors and Entrances of the Chambers, are double, that is, are brought into line or are congruent] (p. 149). Vingboons 1648, p. A2: ‘op maet en regelen der Ouden’ [on measure and rules by the Ancients] (Ottenheym 1989, p. 186) and Vingboons 1648, p. B ‘een manier van Bouwen op maet en vaste regelen (...) die wy Bouw-kunst noemen’ [a way of building on measure and fixed rules (...) which we call the Art of Building] Ottenheym 1989, p. 187; Danckertsz. (1658): ‘maat, getal en evenredenheid’ [measure, number and proprtion] (De Jongh 1973, pp. 112, 122, 123). Ditto Alberti (II.1 and IX.5). The Bray 1971, p. 1. Ottenheym 1999B, pp. 96-97. Ottenheym 1999B, p. 98. Ottenheym 1999B, p. 98. Van Eck 1995, pp. 33-34. See also Smith 1992, pp. xviii-xix and Payne 1994. Van Eck 1999, p. 365. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 46-47 and 1997B, pp. 52-62. Van den Heuvel 1997B, p. 52 argues that Stevin (together with Beeckman and Huygens) and not Perrault can be regarded as ‘the first real critic of vitruvianism and the founder of modern design methods’. Van den Heuvel 1997B discusses in this context the new architectural theory as represented by Stevin, Beeckman, Huygens and Perrault in terms such as ‘foreshadowing in the Netherlands of the “revolution” in French architectural theory of the seventeenth century’, ‘scientific’, ‘founder of modern design methods’, ‘revolutionary character of architectural theory’, ‘experimental research’, ‘practical applicability of science’, ‘did not trust the judgement of the antiquities’, ‘predecessor of the modern method of design’, ‘new system’, ‘simple proportions based on whole numbers’, ‘our contemporary concept of symmetry’, ‘equilateral or mirror symmetry’, ‘essential innovation’, ‘ancient concept of symmetry’, ‘innovative’, ‘proportional concept of symmetry even completely rejected’, ‘simply new’, ‘clear and more usable definition’, ‘complete distance from the view accepted since Vitruvius’, ‘the most diverse scientific issues and experiments’, ‘fierce criticism on painters’, ‘the theory of perspective in Holland and international context’, ‘the correct use of perspective’, ‘accurate scientific observations’, ‘based on logical rules embedded in nature’, ‘improvement of the sciences and the arts’, ‘empirical aspect’, ‘many observations’, ‘empirical experiences’, ‘similarities in scientific approach’, ‘initiating a new theory in which the authority of antiquities was seriously questioned’, ‘a scientific question that can be approached empirically’, ‘which Descartes would develop into a whole new natural-philosophical system’, ‘purely theoretical interest’, ‘natural scientists', ‘architectural theory dispute’, ‘slavish imitation of antiquities’, ‘emphasis on empirical research into acceptable averages’, ‘the first fundamental criticism of Architectura Libri Decem’. Elkins 1994, p. 230. Elkins 1994, p. 224. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 103-104: ‘We already saw that the latter tried to explain the pleasure we experience in observing mirror symmetry from a natural reason. With this, Stevin implicitly acknowledged the existence of an absolute beauty. In addition, in his somewhat cryptic descriptions of the use of the columnar orders, we can recognize other kinds of beauties similar to Perrault’s arbitrary beauties based on “la force de l'accoutumance”’. And a little further, he writes, pp. 103-104: ‘Although 194 863. 864. 865. 866. 867. 868. 869. 870. 871. 872. 873. 874. 875. 876. 877. 878. 879. 880. 881. 882. 883. 884. 885. 886. 887. 888. 889. 890. Stevin did not literally define several kinds of beauties, we can establish that he implicitly assumed a distinction between a natural beauty and a beauty based on certain rules of which reasons of habit or common sense determined whether one should follow them or not, or whether one had freedom to choose’. Tzonis 1982, p. 89 explains this. If there are natural rules of this kind, ‘unshakable and unchangeable (...) independently of us, that is, as Nature has laid them down and brought them into being with such accuracy that they cannot be altered without immediately violating them (...) then it necessarily follows, that those works of Architecture which do not possess these true and natural Proportions, which they are alleged to possess, should be condemned by common consent or at least by those who, by their great Knowledge and Skills, are the competent Judges in the matter...’. Tzonis 1982, pp. 88-112. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 108, 114-115. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 109 and 115. See Chapter 5. Van Schooten 1999, p. 32; Van Eck 1994; Schmitt 1973. As is the case for other institutional practices. See Foucault 1971, pp. 32-33; Nichols 1991, pp. 14-18. Yates 1978. Stevin 1649, p. 98. Ditto Goeree 1681, comparing a kitchen with ‘stomach’ (p. 153) and comparing chimneys and pipes with mouth and nose (p. 156). As indispensable as these body parts are for the body and life, so are the architectural elements for the house. Thus De Bray (Taverne 1971, p. 1) speaks in terms such as ‘een voorigen wysren tijdt by hen vergeten was’ [a former age of wisdom was forgotten by them],‘een volkomen wetenschap en spiegelingh’ [a perfect knowledge and reflection]. Of Jones’(1573-1652) library only 48 books remain. Besides Plato (Republic), Aristotle (Ethics), Xenophon (Moralia), Lomazzo and Vasari about painting he owns Serlio (I-V), Alberti (Bartoli edition 1565), Vitruvius (Barbaro edition 1567), Cataneo, De l’Orme, Rusconi 1591, Palladio, Vignola 1607 and Scamozzi 1615 and Zanini 1629. Wittkower 1974, pp. 61-62; Newman 1988, Mitchell 1994. Wittkower 1974, p. 64. Ottenheym 1999B, p. 89; Blom 1999, p. 9; Ottenheym 1999A, p. 35; Van Pelt 1981. Vovelle 1985; Rooijakkers 1994, p. 84. Bots 1973. Wittkower 1974, p. 62. Matthey 1973, p. 428. Alpers 1983, pp. 22-48. Much of what Huygens says is therefore open to multiple interpretations and contains contradictions (see also Van den Heuvel 1997B, pp. 57-58). More generally, research into the landscape of architectural thinking up to the modern age deserves to be re-examined in a broad sense without the rigid lines drawn by Wittkower. This includes a typology in types of writings, in which a theoretical treatise belongs to another category than a book of examples or a handbook. In the present text this goes too far because I primarily want to trace ‘the house’ as an architectural issue. See Vingboons and De Bray who write about ‘de Konst-lievende Pausen’ [Art-loving Popes] as a result of which the architecture was ‘op de been gerackt’ [revived] (Taverne 1971, p. 9). Tigler 1963, pp. 73-76. De Bray (Taverne 1971, p. 6). Taverne 1971, p. 1. And, further on ‘theoretical foundation for architecture’, ‘construction based on mathematical regularity’, ‘oriented to Vitruivius and the Italian theoreticians’ (p. 1), ‘undermining of Vitruvius and his followers of the Italian Renaissance, for whom the authority of classical antiquity was unchalleneable’ (p.2 ), ‘the breakthrough to Dutch classicism of the 1630’s’ (p. 8). Vitruvius (II.1); Alberti (I.2); Stevin 1649, p. 12; Vingboons, p. B (Ottenheym 1989, p. 187). Kruft 1985, pp. 56-57; Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 126-127; Tzonis 1982. Van Eck 1998, p. 286. Stevin also refers to this in some other works. Van den Heuvel 1995A. For reconstructions see De Waard 1942, Taverne 1984A and Van den Heuvel 1995A. To the house I count, because of the insight it gives in his general way of thinking, also his discussion of the Princely Court, Stevin, pp. 68-71. In Chapter 12, Stevin discusses some differences of opinion within architecture, an addition that also characterizes his other works. Next to his comments on column arrangement and proportionality (see the overview in Stevin 1649, pp. 116-7), pp. 119-126 concern the fabric of window frames. Hendrick had added these because some pages remained empty. The same goes 195 891. 892. 893. 894. 895. 896. 897. 898. 899. 900. 901. 902. 903. 904. 905. 906. 907. 908. 909. 910. 911. 912. 913. 914. 915. 916. 917. for p. 127 (drawing of a drilled well) and p. 128 (about the depth of drilled wells). Taverne 1978, pp. 40-48 deals with the house as it is called in successive chapters by Stevin. Van den Heuvel 1994A, p. 5 takes the house as a self-evident issue about which Stevin writes in his architectural treatise: ‘The same distinction in abstraction is also expressed in his scientific approach to the dwelling, which extends from general methodical questions about the applicability of knowledge to very detailed technical solutions for the building practice’. Kruft 1994, pp. 13-19 notes that these architectural treatises seldom refer to a ‘complete architectural theory’. De Architectura (Vitruvius); De Re Aedificatoria (Alberti); I Quattro Libri dell’Architettura (Palladio); Tutte l’opere d'architettura (Serlio) has never been published in this form. Book IV (1537/8) appeared first and was entitled Regole generale di archittetura. Book VI (on the house) remained unpublished until recently (Rosenfeld 1978). Kruft 1985, p. 22. Castex 1993, pp. 61 and 84 emphasizes the importance of Lionello d’Este (1407-1450), his family and the court to which they belonged. Van Eck 1998, p. 286 points out that Krautheimer 1963 and Rykwert 1998 suggest that it failed as a commentary. Between 1452-1454 he dedicated the manuscript to his student friend and Pope Nicholas V. See also Kruft 1985, p. 47. Kruft 1985, pp. 92-102; Rosenfeld 1989, p. 102. Rosenfeld 1989, p. 102. De Bray (according to the publisher, C. Danckerts) 1631, p. A; Vingboons 1648, p. A2 (Ottenheym 1989, p. 186); Stevin (according to Hendrick Stevin) 1649, p. *2; Goeree 1681, pp. #3-3. Kruft 1985, p. 88 speaks of ‘Lehrbuches’; Schütte 1984, pp. 161-165; see also Forssmann 1956; Günter 1988. Kruft 1985, pp. 23-24; Koch 1951; Germann 1980, pp. 10-28. Van Eck 1998, pp. 281 and 286. 1985, p.100 Van Eck 1998, pp. 280 and 284. Kruft 1985, pp. 80-87. Rosenfeld 1978; Ackerman & Rosenfeld 1989; Rosenfeld 1989. Kruft 1985, p. 100 notes that Palladio derives the reconstruction of the antique house (also referred to by Stevin) mainly from Barbaro’s Vitruvius Commentary (1567). Wittkower 1971, p. 73, fig. 8: ‘Schematic plans of eleven of Palladian’s Villas’; Grafe 1993; Mitchell 1990, pp. 152-179; Hersey 1992; Rowe 1976. Guillaume 1988 points out that De L’Orme devotes three of the eleven chapters to the order of the columns and six to building technique; Bekaert 1981. Van den Heuvel 1995C and 1997A. Kruft 1985, pp. 58-59; Tigler 1963. Kruft 1985, pp. 62-63. Da Vinci’s comments can be found in the Codex B of the Institut de France in Paris, according to Kruft 1985, pp. 64-65. Stein 1914, pp. 112-114. Cataneo presents this as an extension of his town drawing of regular rectangular shape. Cataneo follows Vitruvius’ tract closely. Book IV is dedicated to the house. Giordano 1998; Frascari 1998; Fiore 1998; Tigler 1963. Alberti (V.1) and Stevin 1649 (‘vreedtaerdighe Vorst’ [cruel ruler], pp. 20 and 27-28). For Serlio, see Rosenfeld 1978, p. 58. Giordano 1998, p. 58 (on Filarete); Fiore 1998, p. 78 (on Di Giorgio Martini); Frascari 1998, p. 250 (on Scamozzi). Boudon 1988, pp. 168-170; Blunt 1972. Blunt 1972, foreword. Goudeau 1995-1996, p. 196 refers to him: ‘Folget nun eines der fürnehmsten Stücken der gantzen Baukunst, von den Wohnungs-Bäuen so wohl der grossen Herren, als der unbeampten Bürger’ (boek IV.20)'. Goeree 1681, pp. 129-200. Van den Heuvel 1997A. The published work is based on an illustrated manuscript. Goeree’s description of a ‘goet huis’ [good house] is summarized by Van den Heuvel, p. 165, in modern terms: ‘In short, it concerns qualities, or rather minimum requirements, in the field of climate control, the traffic system, the light supply and smoke extraction that must guarantee sufficient living comfort. (...) On the basis of these general preconditions, Goeree gradually moved on to the best layout of the dwelling for the various occupants, or as he himself called it: ‘de verdeeling en schikking ter gebruijck’ [the distribution and arrangement for use] which, incidentally, was largely in keeping with that of the medieval house in a city like Amsterdam’. 196 918. 919. 920. 921. 922. 923. 924. 925. 926. 927. 928. 929. 930. 931. 932. 933. 934. 935. 936. 937. 938. 939. 940. 941. 942. 943. 944. 945. 946. 947. 948. Van den Heuvel 1997A, pp. 165-166. Günter 1988, p. VII; Schütte 1984, p. 213. Koch 1951, pp. 184-185. Schütte 1984, pp. 217 and 219. Howard 1988, pp. 426-430. Yates 1978; Hart 1998, p. 297. Howard 1983; Kruft 1994, pp. 231-232; Wotton 1624, pp. 52-82 writes on doors and windows as follows: ‘In lets of Men and of Light’ (p. 53). He discusses , ‘liberall Light’ (p. 57), ‘the nature of the Region, and the Windes that are ordinarily blow, from this, or that Quarter’ (p. 61), ‘the incommodity of Smoake’ (p. 60), ‘German Stoues’ (p. 63), ‘necessities of the House’, ‘health of the Inhabitants’, ‘Art should imitate Nature’ (p. 63), ‘For both the Greeks and Romanes (of whose priuate dwellings Vitruvius hath left us some description) had commonly two Cloystered open Courts, one seruing for the Womens side, and the other for the Men’, ‘the reception of light, into the Bodie of the building, was very prompt, both from without and within’ (p. 69), ‘Alwayes we must understand a suffuicient breadth of Pauement, left between the open part and the Windows, for some delight of Spectators, that might looke downe into the Chambere’ (p. 77). Op p. 82 schrijft Wotton: ‘Every mans proper Mansion House and Home, being the Theater of his Hospitality, the Seate of Selfe-fruition, the Comfortablest part of his owne Life, the Noblest of his Sonnes Inheritance, a kinde of priuate Princedome’. Howard 1983, p. 426. Krinsky 1967; Rykwert 1984. Castex 1993, p. 61; Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 44-45; Bodar 1984; Boer 1978. See 2.1.4. Gros 1988, p. 57; Haselberger 1989, p. 69. Vitruvius uses terms such as ‘forma’, schema’, ‘diagram’, ‘exemplar’. Vitruvus (I.6.12, III.3.13, III.4.5, III.5.8, V.4.1, V.5.6, VI.1.7; VIII.5.3, X.6.4). Haselberger 1989, p. 69; Gros 1988, p. 58. Vitruvius (I.6). Haselberger 1989, pp. 69-70 states that Vitruvius only wanted to give a clear and brief description of the construction, and that therefore cumbersome drawings have been omitted. According to Haselberger, Vitruvius bases itself on knowledge in Greek treatises on construction, which were, incidentally, extensively illustrated. Gros 1988, p. 58: ‘Et ce n’est pas un hasard si les figures du livre III concernent toutes des notions dont il ne fornit qu’une description allusive, incomplète, ou sommaire. L’image ne prend en quelque sorte le relais du texte que dans des cas très ponctuels, où Vitruve a le sentiment d’avoir atteint les limites de ses possibilités en matières de formulation ou de conceptualisation.’ Idem Krinsky 1967, p. 42. Krinsky 1967, pp. 42-43. Carpo 1998, p. 163. Vitruvius (I.2). Carpo 1998, pp. 159-160. Vitruvius (VI.3 and IX) on measuring. Stevin 1649, p.115, does, however, question its rigour, as was already shown above (section 2.2.1.). Namelijk 2 times 3 plus 1/2 = 7 parts. Stevin 1649, pp. 45-46. Leoni 1755 translates the term with ‘Design’, Rykwert 1989, pp. 442-443 with ‘Lineaments’. Krautheimer 1963; Lang 1965. Millon 1994, p. 22. Van Eck 1998, p. 285; Tzonis 1982, p. 113. Alberti (II.1). Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 7 (PWS IV, p. 64). Alberti (II.1). Alberti (IX.6). Alberti (IX.6). Starting from two variables (two extremes, namely a larger and a smaller number), their goal is to find such a number between the two that there are proportional intervals between the three numbers. The aim of the arithmetic proportion is, given two numbers, to obtain the median proportion so that the distance between each pair is equal (Alberti gives 8:6:4, with the distance always of 2). The geometrical proportion aims, given two numbers, to obtain the proportion in the middle so that the ratio in the first pair of numbers is the same as that in the second pair (Alberti gives 4:6:9, because 4:6 = 6:9 = 2:3). The third musical proportion aims, given two numbers, to obtain the proportion in the middle so that the proportion between the smallest and the largest term is equal the proportion between two distances, namely the distance between the smallest and the middle term, and the middle term and the largest term 197 949. 950. 951. 952. 953. 954. 955. 956. 957. 958. 959. 960. 961. 962. 963. 964. 965. 966. 967. 968. 969. 970. 971. 972. 973. 974. 975. 976. 977. 978. 979. 980. 981. 982. 983. 984. 985. 986. 987. 988. 989. 990. (Alberti gives 30:40:60; in that case 30:60 = 1:2, while the distance between 30 and 40 (= 10) and between 40 and 60 (=20) produces the same proportion of 1:2). Serlio (I.1). Llewellyn 1998, p. 127. Serlio (I.1). Palladio (I.21 - I. 23). Palladio (I.23). Stevin 1649, p. 115. Palladio (I. 23). Palladio (I.1). Barbaro 1556, but also by Fra Giocondo (1511), De Giunta (1513) and Cesariano (1521). See Recht 1988, p. 61; Tzonis 1984; Rowland 1998; Hart 1998A; Hart & Hiks 1998; Rosenfeld 1989. Eisenstein 1979, 1983; Rosenfeld 1989, p. 102; Nissen 1950; Giard 1991; Hart & Hiks 1998, p. 11. Recht 1988. Hart & Hiks 1998, p. 11 indicate that these are one of the earliest almost fully illustrated printed books. Recht 1988, p. 63; Rosenfeld 1989, p. 102, ‘The text now played a secondary role in explaining the image’. Alpers 1989, p. 46. Rosenfeld 1989, p. 102. Wilkinson 1985, p. 42. Such as his explanation to draw a pentagon in his Stercktenbouwing, pp. 33-4 (PWS IV, p. 114) and p. 116). Stevin, Meetdaet, pp. 7-27. By the way, Stevin refers to the orthographia as ‘de platte lijfbeeldinghe’ [the flat body depiction], Stercktenbouwing, p. 26 (PWS IV, p. 100). Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, pp. 1 and 25-26 (PWS IV, pp. 52, 98 and 100). Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 24 (PWS IV, p. 96). Stevin, Vande Verschaevwing, pp. 4 and 7; Struik, in: PWS IIB, pp. 785-793. Van den Heuvel 1994E, pp. 71-72. Alberti (II.1.). Rosenfeld 1989, p. 102. Hart 1998A, pp. 170-185; Edgerton 1993, p. 7. Tzonis 1984, p. 80. Hart 1998A, pp. 178-180. Stevin 1649, p. 116; in Vande Verschaeuvwing, p. 4 (PWS IIB, p. 800), Stevin mentions the term ‘sciographia’ (also known as ‘scenographia’) as ‘third descend’. Close 1969 and 1971. Stevin 1649, p. 47. Stevin 1649, p. 65. Giorgio Martini uses similar gradations. Kruft 1985, p. 86; Rosenfeld 1978; Ackerman & Rosenfeld 1989. Stevin 1649, pp. 60 resp. 75. Stevin, Dialectike, pp. 38-41; Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 97. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 40-42. Yates 1988, pp. 240-241, refers here to Melanchton, who transforms the artificial memory into ‘just leearn by heart’ and to Ramus .who ntroduces a ‘dialectical arrangement’ instead of the complex art of memory. Yates 1988, pp. 13-18, 120, 213, 242, 261. Stevin, Dialectike, pp. 60, 68, 123-124. Yates 1988, p. 108 points out that ‘artificial memory’ is understood as part of wisdom. Carruthers 1998, p. 9, who criticises Yate’s views on ars memoria in the Middle Ages in a few respects, does underline that ‘the arts of memory are among the arts of thinking’. As Van den Heuvel believes 1995A, p. 94. From Serlio’s house drawings I have mainly looked at the accompanying text of Plate II (D4, E5, F6, G7, III, H8, I9, V, K10, VI, house L 11; Plate XLVIII, House A, B, C, D, E, F; Plate XLIX, House G, H, I, K; Plate L, House L and House M. He often gives Italian and French variants. In addition, there are many large residences. Palladio’s drawings (1590) and those by Vingboons (1648 and 1674) are of realized buildings (villas and palazzi, respectively mansions, country houses and a single ‘ideal’ floor plan). Rosenfeld 1989, p. 107; Blunt 1972; Boudon 1988, p. 369; De Jonge 1998, p. 288. 198 991. 992. 993. 994. 995. 996. 997. 998. 999. 1000. 1001. 1002. 1003. 1004. 1005. 1006. 1007. 1008. 1009. 1010. 1011. 1012. 1013. 1014. 1015. 1016. 1017. 1018. 1019. 1020. 1021. 1022. 1023. 1024. Stevin 1649, pp. 63-64. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 68 confirms this: ‘They were neither intended as a reaction on contemporary practice, nor as a blueprint for the future’. Vitruvius (V.Prologue). Gros 1988; Schrijvers 1989, p. 14. Vitruvius (V. Proloog; Peters 1997, pp. 137-138). Vitruvius (VII.8; Peters 1997, p. 189). Peters translates this as ‘functional’ instead of the more correct ‘doelmatig’ [efficacy]. Dijksterhuis 1943. PWS I, 1955, pp. 21-22. Van Berkel 1979, p. 96. Van Berkel 1979, pp. 95-96; On p. 96: ‘a scientifically trained engineer, who studies problems from practice in a scientific way and returns the results obtained to the service of practice’. Van Berkel 1979, p. 93. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 329: ‘phantastische’; Van Berkel 1979, p. 95 indicates it in terms of ‘social motive’, ‘language barrier’ and ‘progress of science’. PWS I, pp. 21-22. Van Berkel 1979, pp. 89-100; Van Berkel 1983, p. 157. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 119; Van Berkel 1979, pp. 94-95. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 37. Taverne 1984B, p. 445. Schütte 1984, p. 18; Van den Heuvel 1991. See Chapter 1. Konvitz 1978, p. 26; Kostof 1985; Gutkind 1971, p. 35; Roding 1993, p. 52, based on Taverne 1984C. Dijksterhuis 1943. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 41 and 46. Vitruvius (I.1), fabrica translated as ‘hand-werk’ or ‘ambachtelijk handwerk’ [craftsmanship] (Peters 1997, p. 28), ratiocinatio as ‘geistiger Arbeit’ (Fensterbusch 1981, p. 23) or ‘verstandelijke beredenering’ [intellectual reasoning] (Peters 1997, p. 28). Kruft 1994, p. 24; Hart 1998, p. 14. Stevin, Wysentijt: ‘de letters en vrye consten’ (p. 9), ‘vrye consten’ (pp. 40-41); ‘de consten’ (p. 43); ‘telconst’ (pp. 12, 13), ‘meetconst (pp. 13, 15); ‘letterconst’ [Grammaticam] (p. 39); ‘redenconst’ [Rhetorica], ‘vrye consten’ (p. 47); wisconsten [Mathematica artes] (p. 46). In addition, he distinguishes ‘const’ and ‘daet’: in addtion to ‘telconst’ he mentions ‘teldaet’ (p. 13: ‘Telconstighe vertooghen [Theoremata] (...) en Teldaet [neque praxis Arithmeticae]’). Stevin, Wysentijt p. 43. In this context, ‘Scientia’ is a scholastic term with which the essence of things is shown in a demonstrative manner. Close 1969, p. 475; Osler 1998, p. 91; Smith 1999, p. 144; Hutchinson 1997; De Jong 1998, p. 103 describes the classical conception of art: ‘Art was seen as a rationally organized activity with a more practical than speculative purpose, for example rhetoric, carpentry, painting or drama. It was also seen as a system of theoretical knowledge or intellectual expertise, which presupposes such a practical activity’. Stevin, Stedenbouwing: ‘*Bouwmeesters [Architectis]’ (p. 40), ‘*Bouwmeesters [Architectos]’ (Steden, p. 48); ‘*Boumeesters [Architectum]’ (p. 35 (118); ‘HVYSBAV, [Architecturam] tot vvelcx oeffening den *Boumeester [Architecto]’; (Stevin, Deursichtighe, p. 4); ‘vande Bouconstschryvende’ (Stevin 1649, p. 1). 83); ‘in handel van bouconstige oirdening te oeffenen’' (p. 11); ‘Bouconstighe regel’, ‘de *Boumeester [Architect]’ (p. 13); ‘de bouconstighe reghel’ ( pp. 13-14); ‘bouconst’ (p. 15); ‘*Boumeesters [Architects]’ and ‘bouconstige stof’ (p. 16); ‘*Boumeester [Architectus]’ and ‘de vermaerde *Boumeesters [Architecti]’ (p. 108). Stevin, Wysentijt pp. 23-24 and 42. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 23, 45; on rhetoric, see Stevin, Dialectike, p. *3. Stevin points out that this is a property of the language. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 45; Stevin, Weerdicheyt (PWS I, p. 86). In rhetoric, for example by Cicero, a relation is made between gesticulation and an inner state of mind. Vitruvius, incidentally, also separates architecture from the telling of histories and poetry. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 297. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 20 (‘ophetoeyde stijl’ [embellished style]), 45 (‘Copioe verborum: overvloet der woorden’ [abundance of words]). Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 1 (PWS IV, p. 52). Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 10 and 11. Schmitt 1973 refers to the ability to read Greek as part of the humanist education of the time. For Scaliger’ place in the inllectual circuit, see Israels 1996 I, pp. 638-646. 199 1025. 1026. 1027. 1028. 1029. 1030. 1031. 1032. 1033. 1034. 1035. 1036. 1037. 1038. 1039. 1040. 1041. 1042. 1043. 1044. 1045. 1046. 1047. 1048. 1049. 1050. 1051. 1052. 1053. 1054. 1055. 1056. 1057. 1058. 1059. 1060. 1061. Cohen 1994, pp. 507-509. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 15; Cohen 1994, p. 509. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 9. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 14-15. For a further elaboration of the ‘Damphooghde’ [ Atmosphere] he refers to his Eertclootschrift [Geography] in which he builds on Arabic knowledge about ‘de werelts ghestalt and natueren’s verborghen eyghenschappen’ [the shape of the world and the hidden qualities of Nature]. On the status of alchemy see Smith 1999; Grafton 1999, p. 11; Yates 1978, 1988. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 15; Yates 1988. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 17; Stevin 1649, pp. 51 and 60. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 10. ‘van welcke namen, doch sonder schilderie, my oock ghedenckt ghelesen te hebben in een Latijns bouck van seer ouden druck, maer des schrijvers naem is my vergeten, ick en weet oock niet waer ‘t bouck bleven is’ [of which name, though without painting, I think I have read in a Latin book of very old printing, but as I have forgotten the name of the writer, I do not know where the book has gone]. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 10: ‘dats teycken van Hermes’ [this is the sign of Hermes] he ‘geschildert gesien tegen de mueren van een camer op s’Coninx hof in Polen tot Craco’ [painted on the walls of a chamber in the King’s Court in Krakow, Poland]. Yates 1988; Cohen 1994, pp. 511-513; Roding 1991; Bezemer Sellers 1997; Taylor 1977, pp. 81-109; DaCosta Kaufman 1997. See section 2.1.4. Smith 1999, p. 446. ‘Steroirdeelen, of voorsegginghen deur Sterren’ [judgements of, or announcements by, Stars] writes Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 19. Furthermore he speaks of ‘Hemelmeters’ [surveyors of the sky] (p. 17). Stevin, Wysentijt p. 19. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 18, 19-20. Stevin 1649: ‘gageslagen’ [observe] (p. 11, p. 15), ‘gagheslagen’ (p. 26); ‘gageslaghen’ (pp. 41, 50, 53, 62) and ‘gaslaen’ (p. 12). Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 18. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 18-19. This work is included in I Bovck des Eertclootschrifts, which explains why he takes astronomy as an example to explain the general state of affairs in the ‘consten’ [arts]. This is a general idea. Cohen 1994, p. 509. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 19. Stevin 1649, p. 60. Stevin 1649, p. 37. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 20. Stevin, Wystentijt, p. 20. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 20. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 22-23. PWS I, p. 88. Stevin, Weerdicheyt, PWS I, pp. 82-84. Stevin gives a page-long list of ‘Duytsche eensilbighe vvoorden’ [Dutch monosyllabic words], in: ‘Uitspraec’, PWS I, pp. 67-77. For comparison, he gives the ‘handful’ of Latin terms (pp. 77-78) and even fewer Greek terms (pp. 78-79). Stevin, Weerdicheyt, PWS I, p. 84. Stevin, Weerdicheyt, PWS I, p. 88. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 40. He does, however, express his regret that this language – spurred on by trade – is becoming increasingly mixed with foreign words. Stevin, Wystentijt, p. 23. Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 329. ‘Tweespraeck between Ian and Piet’, in: Stevin, Dialectike; Sharrat 1972, p. 23. Stevin, Wysenijt; p. 39, Stevin, Weerdicheyt, (PWS I, pp. 58-94) and his ‘Tweespraek tussen Ian en Piet’, in his Dialectike, pp. 142-166. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 18-19. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 39-40. See Chapter 4. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 49). These days there is an enormous production of various types of drawings without an aesthetic slant. They become a new source of information (maps, sea maps, coastal profiles, town maps, military maps, atlases). Alpers 1989, Chapter 4. Stevin, Wysentijtt, pp. 18-19. Melion 1991, p. 39. Van Mander (Miedema 1973, p. 100), Goeree (Kwakkelstein 1998), pp. 4-6; Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 49), Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 6-7. 200 1062. 1063. 1064. 1065. 1066. 1067. 1068. 1069. 1070. 1071. 1072. 1073. 1074. 1075. 1076. 1077. 1078. 1079. 1080. 1081. 1082. 1083. 1084. 1085. 1086. 1087. 1088. 1089. 1090. 1091. 1092. 1093. 1094. 1095. 1096. Stevin, Dialectike, p. *2; see also Stevin, Wysentijt, p 11-16. Yates 1988, p. 377 points out that numerous ‘methods’ were developed in the early modern period. Ramus popularized finding the right method; Ong 1974. Alpers 1989, pp. 128-129 (on Comenius). Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 40, 41: ‘d’oirden’. Stevin, Dialectike, p. 2. Stevin, Dialectike, pp. 2, 5 and 6. Stevin, Dialectike, pp. *2-*3. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 42. Therein lies also the similarity between the Wysentijt and mathematics: wisdom in this time consisted in the certain, known (mathematical) knowledge in the natural orders: ‘natuerlicken aert des oirdens die den Wijsentijt recht verstont’ [the natural nature of the system which the Age of Wisdom correctly understood], ‘Wysentijts oirden in beschrijving der Wisconsten’ [The order of the Age of describing mathematics], ‘in den Wysentijt met wisconstighe oirden beschreven waren’ [which in the Age of Wisdom were described with mathematical order]; ‘Euclidische of Wysentijtsche stijl ghegheven, met oirdentlicke bepalinghen, vertooghen en werckstucken’ [given the Euclidean or style of the Age of Wisdom, with orderly determinations, discourses and workings]. (Wysentijt, p. 42) De Groot (Dovering 1952, p. 2); Mok 1988, pp. 26-29. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 9). Spinoza (Van Suchtelen 1979, p. 7). Ong 1974; Van den Heuvel 1995A. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 41: ‘Van dese oirden sonder welcke onmeughelick schijnt dat die des wysentijts tot haer groote wetenschappen souden hebben connen geraken’ [of these orders without which it seems impossible that the Age of Wisdom could have reached its great sciences]. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 4 and 45. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 22. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 43. See also Van Eck 1998. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 43; Stevin, Dialectike, p. 105. Vitruvius too points out the importance of specific terms and a special, short and clear layout. In Stevin, Stercktenbouw, pp. 1-6 (PWS IV, pp. 52-62) he discusses 21 propositions in which he deals with terms such as ‘bolwercken’, ‘wallen’, ‘kaden’, maar ook ‘beschoeiing’, ‘tand’, ‘katten’ en ‘heimelijke uitgangen’. Idem in his Probematvm geometricorvm, in which (after a table view, PWS II, p. 142) he first discusses 24 definitions (PWS II, pp. 144-168) before switching to the ‘Problemata’ (PWS II, p. 168). By the way, in his Stedenoirdeningh his son Hendrick has as chapter 13 (pp. 116-117) included a number of short descriptions of the properties that a good house should have (‘Vande Lijcksydicheyt’, ‘Vrylicht’, ‘Dack’, ‘Looven’, ‘Steygers’, ‘Vande vasticheyt vant huys in syn geheel’). Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 43. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 42. Kristeller 1961, p. 67. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 41. Vermij 1999, p. 21 confirms that in classical antiquity there was a distinction between ‘pure’ and ‘mixed’ mathematics, a difference that indicates whether or not substance is used. Son Hendrick placed this part almost at the back (Stevin 1649, pp. 107-115). Van Eck 1998, pp. 286 and 294. Aristotle also includes ‘controversial issues’ in his Ethica at the end of a chapter. In the Lyceum these ‘questiones disputate’ were part of the curriculum. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 41-42. Van Eck 1994, p. 43; Van Eck 1998, pp. 286-289, 292-293. Conley 1990, p. 130. Conley 1990, p. 124; Yates 1988, p. 240. Spies1996. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 41. PWS IIB, pp. 494-551, 552-708. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 44. Verdonk 1969, p. 252; Dijksterhuis 1943, pp. 92, 104, 288, 291 had already pointed out the choice of words and the way of thinking. See Van Berkel 1979, 1983A and Van den Heuvel 1993A, 1994B and 1995A, pp. 37-45. Verdonk 1969, p. 252. But that’s a common habit in this day and age. See Smith 1999, p. 444. Verdonk 1969, p. 253. Verdonk 1969, pp. 254-255. Van den Heuvel 1994B, pp. 108-111; Van den Heuvel 1991, pp. 145-146; Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 67: ‘Precisely this combination of the dichotomy and the metaphor of the dwelling may give more insight into the backgrounds of Stevin’s emphasis on symmetry in architecture. Thus a certain similarity can be 201 recognized between Stevin’s arrangement, from small to large, of the dwelling house, of the city and of the urban expansion, always according to the rules of symmetry arising from nature and the arrangement of a scientific problem according to the “natural order” of logic in increasingly branching dichotomies. Now, of course, a dichotomy is not an arbitrary symmetrical order, but a “dichotomy” of complementary concepts. (...) It would, however, be going too far to read Stevin’s successive arrangements of the dwelling, the city and the expansion of the city unambiguously as one big dichotomy. Rather, it is an analogy between the order underlying the composition of these different architectural manifestations and the construction of the discourses presenting scientific problems. Just as Stevin regularly makes comparisons with the residential home to explain the methodical ordering of these scientific issues, so conversely it does not seem excluded that scientific presentation models influenced his ideas about order in architecture'’ 1097. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing (PWS IV: ‘Cortbegryp’ (p. 48), tableau arrangement (p. 50); Stevin, Beghinselen der weeghconst (PWS, 'Cortbegryp' p. 94), tableau arrangement and definitions (PWS, pp. 96-106, with 14 definitions); Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 41 and 44-45: To ‘alsoo den heelen handel in oirden der tweescheyding te vervanghen’ [so as to capture the whole treatment in arrangement of the twodivision]. Yates 1988, pp. 240-250. 1098. Ong1974, p. 83. 1099. Yates 1988, p. 242. 1100. Meant to be The State. 1101. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 44; In Stercktenbouwing he writes: ‘V.E. hieldet daer voor, dat de Aristotelischen bestellick ghenough vande Oirden streden, maer metter daet weynich Oirdens ghebruyckten’ [held that the Aristotelians best defended ordering, but in reality used very little]. 1102. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing (PWS IV, p. 42): ‘Dat Ramus meining van dies tot een goet einde streckte’ [Ramus’ advice on this had a good point]. 1103. Stevin, Dialectike, pp. 55-61. 1104. Stevin, Stercktenbouwing, p. 8 (PWS IV. p. 66): in this case so as not to unnecessarily burden the making of a drawing. 1105. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 46 and 47. 1106. Stevin 1649, p. 16. 1107. Stevin 1649, p. 11. 1108. Van Mander (Miedema 1973, p. 15). 1109. Bolten 1979 refers to instruction manuals that exist alongside the model books with standard examples. Goeree (Kwakkelstein 1998, pp. 1-3); Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, Emmens 1964. 1110. Emmens 1964, p. 37. Also referred to as ‘studium’ (‘vlijt, ‘vliet’ [diligence]). See Stevin, Het Burgherlick Leven, p. 54. 1111. Stevin, Dialectike, pp. 62 and 68. 1112. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 48. 1113. Stevin speaks of ‘beginsels’. Stevin, Wysentijt (p. 42); ‘regels van de redenconst’ [rules of the art of reasoning] (p. 45), and more in particular the ‘gemeene regels’ [common rules] (Stevin 1649); for following, implementing or applying those rules, see Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 45 and 46. 1114. Van den Heuvel 1995B, p. 47 translates ‘dadelick maeksel’ as ‘building technical aspects’. 1115. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 46-49. Meetconst is separate from the Meetdaet, according to Stevin on pp. 3-4 of the Meetdaet. 1116. Stevin keeps coming back to this: Stevin 1649, p. 17, Stevin, Stercktenbouwing (PWS IV, p. 35). 1117. ‘Aenden Leser’, [Tot he Reader]. Stevin, Meetdaet, p. 4. 1118. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 48 and 46. 1119. Van Eck 1999, p. 355. 1120. Van den Heuvel 1994B, p. 102, describes how Stevin’s theory was reconstructed by students in a tutorial. ‘During this reconstruction, a number of imperfections came to light in the description of the fortress’. According to Stevin, these kind of imperfections do not so much relate to theory, but to the materiality that is specific to reality. 1121. Goudeau 1995, p. 198, for example, poses the question: ‘Is there a connection between Goldmann’s architectural treatise and building practice? The purely theoretical examples do not differ little from the irregularities that are so characteric for practice.’ 1122. Stevin, Wysentijt, p 46. 1123. Geertman 1997, p. 18; see also Emmens 1964. 1124. Geertman 1997, p. 20. 1125. Vitruvius (VI.2; Peters 1997, p. 173). 202 1126. 1127. 1128. Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaeghe 1999, p. 56). Geertman 1997, p. 20. Stevin, Meetdaet. By the way, the result is a complex choreography of man and thing. 1129. See section 4.2.3. 1130. Vitruvius (III.3 and 5, VI.2); Stevin, Vande Verschauwing. Van den Heuvel 1995A, pp. 105-108 mentions e.g. Beeckman and his views on ‘Waarneming en optische correcties’ [Observation and optical corrections]; idem Van den Heuvel 1997B. 1131. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 106 refers to Stevin as an example of ‘a lively debate that was going on in the Netherlands about the correct use of perspective and whether or not to apply optical corrections’. Beeckman agrees with Stevin’s solution and rejects another, by the astronomer Philips Lansbergen. De Waard 1942, II, pp. 248-249, quotation by Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 106, n. 355. 1132. Stevin, Vande Verschauwing, ‘6 Hooftstick vande volcommen navolging der const’ [Chapter 6 on the perfect following of the art] PWS, IIB, p. 956: ‘Maer al dit is ghemist, uyt oirsaeck dat sulcke pylaren inde schaeu al evewijt van malcanderen gheselt wesende, en t’natuerlick oogh oock t’sijnder plaets, soo crijghense van selfs de behoirlicke schijnbaer naerdering die de ware verschaeulicke pylaré schijnbaerlick crijgen’ [But all this failed, due to the cause that such pillars that are already placed equally far apart, and the natural eye is also in the right place, they apparently naturally get the right positioning that the true perspective pillars seemingly get]. 1133. Van den Heuvel 1995A, p. 106 puts it this way: ‘Stevin expressed (...) fierce criticism on painters who optically tried to correct the proportions of the object when depicted in the painting in order to bring it into line with the perception ‘”uyter oogh, byde gisse”’. 1134. Stevin, Wysentijt, pp. 18-19. For the ‘goodness’, see Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaeghe 1999, p. 56). Close 1969 about ‘building a house’ as a natural act. 1135. Vitruvius (I.1). 1136. Geertman 1997, p. 17. 1137. Tzonis 1994, p. 36. 1138. About legal knowledge, Stevin mentions, for example, the need to set town ordinances (Stevin 1649, p. 31 [= p. 23]; or he mentions the case that neighbours must share a common wall (p. 53), about which Hugo de Groot also writes (Dovering 1952, p. 152-153). 1139. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 31-42. 1140. Stevin 1649, pp. 98 and 60. 1141. Stevin 1649, p. 24, p. 31, p. 98, p. 113 [= p. 103]. 1142. Stevin 1649, pp. 1 and 110; Stevin, Stercktenbouwing (PWS IV, p. 67). 1143. Stevin 1649, pp. 31 [= p. 23], 24 and 114; Stevin, Sterctenbouwing (PWS IV, p. 98). 1144. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 47; Vitruvius (IX, Prologue). 1145. In terms of ‘practical, technical utility’, ‘genuinely useful applications’, ‘directly economically useful results’, ‘real technical progress’ (Van Berkel 1979, pp. 92-93). 1146. Stevin, Problemata Geometrica (PWS II, p. A2). 1147. See Chapter 1. 1148. See section 2.2.1. 1149. McQuillan 1998, p. 357: ‘After nearly two millenia, the traditional European architectural treatise and its intrinsic connection to the concept of mimesis came to an end. The powerful meaning of mimesis had found its setting in a continuous cosmos, surviving until the rupture of such a world-view by the mideighteenth century’. 1150. McEwen 1998; McQuillan 1998; Bilodeau 1997. 1151. Ottenheym 1988A, p. 40. 1152. Sturm 1721; Penther 1745; Bothmer 1779; Schütte 1984, p. 214. 1153. Schütte 1984, pp. 221-259. 1154. Schütte 1984, pp. 216-217. 1155. Tzonis 1984, pp. 370-379. 203 

THE HOUSE AND THE RULES OF THOUGHT A Historical-Comparative Research into the Work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats, Samuel van Hoogstraten & Pieter de Hooch Heidi de Mare 

Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Chapter 5.2.3. The Dutch art historians Van de Waal and Emmens There have been two art historians in the Netherlands who have made an important contribution to the design of a scientific art-historical discipline in the sense of Warburg, H. van de Waal (1910-1972) and J.A. Emmens (1924-1971).1 Their intellectual affinity is already apparent from their affiliation with the Warburg Institute. This was also the case with other innovative researchers, such as Francis Yates, Michael Baxandall and Svetlana Alpers. In the 1930s Van de Waal made several contributions to the Bibliography of the survival of the classics published by the Warburg Institute. 2 In his inaugural address in 1946, he wrote how he ‘became acquainted with the course of study proposed by Warburg, which was so completely in keeping with what floated in my mind vaguely and formlessly as an ideal...’. 3 Emmens worked at the same institute for a few months in 1957.4 In addition, their theoreticalanalytical work contains several echoes of the scientific questions that Warburg dealt with. Emmens acknowledges the importance of the ‘method Warburg pioneered – an approach to art based on historicism and anthropology, as opposed to the stylistic orientation of traditional art history...’5 Warburgs interest in a cultural history, in various types of artifacts and visual material, in the ‘Nachleben’ of the antique legacy in literature and the visual arts can also be found in the work of Van de Waal and van Emmens. In addition, they both speak out about some of the misconceptions on which, in their view, art-historical science is based. They criticize the way ‘historiography’ is understood. Van de Waal turns against history as a chronological sequence of masterpieces, in which the description of the artist’s life, his work and the tradition is understood as an inseparable unity. To this end, the ‘anecdotal biograph’ left behind by Vasari and Van Mander had to be converted by the art historian into ‘a historical reconstruction of a more abstract nature’.6 Van de Waal acknowledges that certain biographical elements do play a role in art historical analysis, but these elements ‘give rise to a fundamental error, namely these, as if the artist’s external living conditions were essentially related to his art production (...), the research of the numerous historical facts that surround the work of art is a highly useful, indispensable work, but it does not take us any further than the method of seafarers, who, on the basis of their nautical and hydrographical investigations, can only map out the coastline of the islands on their maps and leave the rest white.’ 7 In such a historiography, Van de Waal senses an ‘essential dichotomy’ because, on the one hand, the eternal value of art (which escapes history) is maintained and, on the other hand, a historical development is suggested. ‘For as far as this branch of scholarship is concerned with works of art, it should proceed according to purely aesthetic principles, but for as far as these works of art have arisen in a certain time 1. Halbertsma 1993, p. 73: ‘It is only for the generations after Vogelsang and Martin – and I am thinking of H. van de Waal, G.J. Hoogewerff and J.A. Emmens – that new methodical insights from abroad are applied in their own and original way’. 2. De Jongh 1992B, p. 308. 3. Van de Waal 1946, p. 30. 4. Emmens 1964, p. viii. 5. Emmens 1981-II I, p. 125. 6. Van de Waal 1946, pp. 7-8. 7. Van de Waal 1946, p. 6. 679 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 and obey all the laws that apply to historical phenomena in general, it cannot renounce a purely historical approach with impunity.’ 8 Emmens observes something similar and criticizes the assumptions of many art historians who believe that there is an ‘ever-increasing understanding’, which would allow us to better identify the status of an artist and his work today than before. ‘Authors who have implicitly or explicitly advocated this view have, in my view, fallen victim to a progress optimism which, although inherent in art history as a science, at the same time, in so far as it poses a threat to the historical perspective pursued by this science, will have to be put into perspective again and again’. 9 Both Van de Waal and Emmens relate this form of art history to modern essentialist conceptions of art. These always revolve around the eternal value of works of art, art as a psychological expression, ‘sensation congealed to form’ or artistry as self-expression.10 ‘Nowadays we are used,’ writes Emmens in 1964, ‘to interpreting the work of art as a form of self-expression – a habit that underlies both the style-critical method and modern art criticism. The artists may in the meantime have turned away from this view and strive to express all that which apparently cannot be expressed in any other way and therefore cannot be translated into words by the critics, “self-expression” continues to play the leading role in the interpretation and is therefore regarded as the goal of art. The 17th century painter, on the other hand, did not yet know this concept of subjective expression. For him, there was only the objective “expression of passions”, which Rembrandt, as well as Van Mander and the classicist authors, considered to be one of the most important “parts of art of painting”.’ 11 Van de Waal basically says the same when he points out that while a work of art is an ‘expression of the human soul’, it does not exist without material design. 12 Even more important is this: if both (the psychological and the material aspect) are not seen as historical quantities, all sorts of ahistorical misunderstandings with regard to visual material will result. ‘For our purpose it is sufficient to note that in our examples both the psychological and the form-analytical methods fell into the error indicated above: to have lost sight of the historical character of the work of art, or in other words, not to have taken tradition into account. This historical error can also be described as: that they attempted to v a l u e the work of art before they had i n t e r p r e t e d it.’13 The historiography of art is to a large extent steered by modern conceptions of art, according to both authors. As a result, people today believe in a direct and sensory accessibility of visual material.14 For the modern viewer there is little reason to distance oneself from what one intuitively likes and to delve into the historical rules of art. And this is so completely different from, for instance, ‘in the literary sciences, where philology developed as one of the interpretive disciplines that above all try to understand the [literary work]’.15 ‘The viewer, who does not know that 15th and 16th century painters often combine the successive episodes of the same history into a single scène, and that they thus show us in j u x t a p o s i t i o n what has taken place in succession, runs the risk of completely 8. Van de Waal 1946, p. 7. 1964, p. 1. 10. Van de Waal 1946, pp. 9-10, 15, 16. 11. Emmens 1964, p. 135. 12. Van de Waal 1946, p. 15. 13. Van de Waal 1946, p. 16. 14. Van de Waal 1946, p. 9: ‘because the visual arts use forms based on general sensory impressions.’ 15. Van de Waal 1946, p. 8. 9. Emmens 680 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 misunderstanding a painting that follows this method of presentation.’ 16 Emmens points to another facet of the same problem, namely ‘the deeply felt need to recognize oneself and one’s own time in the past’. 17 Not only the historical image, but also the past is seen as accessible. Precisely the extent to which this modern view is successful and is spreading on a massive scale shows ‘the historical inadequacy of the vision defended in it’. 18 Van de Waal and Emmens therefore consider the current naive, lazy and unreflected attitude towards the image to be a huge problem. The same applies to the use of common language in art historical description. 19 The self-evident belief in the transparency of words, the recognizability of descriptions and the use of clichés or ordinary expressions does indeed attribute a meaning to the work of art, but one that ‘takes our face away from its historical connection’.20 In his dissertation on Rembrandt, Emmens speaks of a ‘misunderstanding’, a ‘profound misconception’ and even of ‘forgery of history, because the seventeenth-century coherence is denied and exchanged for the (selective) clarity of the modern perspective. 21 The spontaneous use of everyday terms as a starting point for a historical analysis is therefore incorrect because this use of words is anachronistic, because bound to our own time. This applies a fortiori to words and concepts from the nineteenth century. On the contrary, the words ‘should be examined as historical problems before they can be used as historical facts’.22 This handling of ‘historical evidence’ is inherent in modern bias. Van de Waal believes that art historians draw too easily and too incidentally from historical material without being aware of the cultural-historical place or the significance of that material for the research being carried out. ‘Because of the historical distance that separates us from the works of art, what was an open book for contemporaries is now much more enigmatic to us. While it is now clear that one can never know enough about these matters, in this acknowledgement there is this great danger that art history will become the playing field for puzzlers, for arthistorical lovers of all kinds, who, operating with the matter familiar to them from elsewhere, feel called upon to come to clarify the field of art history. All too often these Sundayiconographers have been indeed accused of accepting their task with too little knowledge of art history, of mixing up as much style criticism as they tried to build up in iconographic terms’.23 Analyzing visual material is not about ‘deciphering hitherto obscure works of art’. 24 On the contrary: it is primarily about analyzing the historical ways of thinking about art, images and imagination as the contexts within which visual material, visual formation and image transfer are embedded. In their writings, Van de Waal and Emmens always opposed established, often nineteenth-century views on works of art. Both have also carried out systematic research into the various types of art theory. Van de Waal writes about antique, medieval and Renaissance art doctrines in general. Emmens discusses pre-classicist and classicist art theory in the Dutch 16. Van de Waal 1946, pp. 9-10. 1964, p. 7. 18. Emmens 1964, p. 7. 19. Emmens 1964, p. 5. 20. Emmens 1964, p. 1. 21. Emmens 1964, p. 27. 22. Emmens 1964, p. 7. 23. Van de Waal 1946, pp. 20, 21-22: ‘But the heaviest reproach of all strikes those who reduced this detective science to solving rebusses and riddles, in which they did not refrain from presenting the darkest and most remote explanations as the right solutions’. 24. Van de Waal 1946. p. 22. 17. Emmens 681 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 seventeenth century. For both, knowledge of the conceptual context is a prerequisite for the historical-iconological analysis of visual material. Historical text analysis and historical image analysis are in constant interaction and dialogue in their work. This is one of the reasons why the actual image analysis often comes at the end of their studies. Nevertheless, one cannot equate the work of Emmens and Van de Waal. They add their own accents. In this way Van de Waal places the primacy on tradition. 25 To this end, he includes ‘the nature and structure’ of visual material, the historical-aesthetically articulated principles (‘art theory’), and the processes of visual formation and image transfer. 26 By investigating which grammar, word usage, visual examples, artistic habits and customs come together in a tradition, one can correctly assess the formal peculiarities of a scene. This implies that one must explicitly approach the work of art as a historical phenomenon that forms ‘the last link in the chain’.27 The organization of series results from this.28 ‘Therefore, the study of a tradition will always lead to generating a series of cases that relate to each other as examples and imitations.’29 With tradition as the starting and ending point of art-historical research, Van de Waal argues for an analytical habitus – in which it becomes clear that here, too, his criticism is aimed at the modern concept of art. ‘Tradition is limitation, certainly, but not an obstacle, neither in art nor elsewhere. No greater misunderstanding than when one wishes to understand the expression “liberal art” in this way. In so far as art is form, it is bound to matter; in so far as it wants to be transmittable expression, it is by definition bound to tradition’.30 Against modernism, which doesn’t want anything to do with tradition, Van de Waal spoke out shortly after World War II in favor of the importance of recognizing it. 31 ‘By tradition we learn to form our judgment, to formulate our impressions, to live our passions’.32 In art history – just as in philology – comparison should come first.33 Placed in its time and in a series, the work of art should be compared with ‘simultaneous’ and ‘similar’ products.34 The purpose of this comparative image and text analysis is not to determine an Van de Waal 1946, pp. 18-19: ‘... in the first I tried to convince you that acknowledging tradition does not mean an inartistic act and that therefore studying tradition is a responsible starting point for art-historical research'’ Apart from a few references, I did not include Van de Waals thesis in the present treatment. Contrary to popular belief (Sluijter 1998, pp. 150-151 speaks of ‘masterpiece’,’ most impressive book that Dutch art history has produced’), this complex work is not easily accessible, let alone immediately comprehensible when browsing through it. It hardly lends itself to a short presentation or summary. 26. Van de Waal 1946, p. 7 (the ‘aesthetic principles’). 27. Van de Waal 1946, p. 14. 28. Van de Waal 1946, p. 24: ‘Each work of art belongs to two series: as yet another work of a certain master it is a link in his development, but in addition to this it belongs, by virtue of its significance or function, to a series that usually goes much further back’. 29. Van de Waal 1946, p. 10. 30. Van de Waal 1946, p. 13. 31. Van de Waal 1946, p. 11: ‘I said that the knowledge of tradition, which has sometimes been called the memory of mankind, is indispensable for a correct appreciation of works of art; and I hinted that this is related to the fact that the historical character of the work of art cannot be overlooked with impunity’. 32. Van de Waal 1946, p. 12. 33. Van de Waal 1946, p. 17, points out with regret that the appreciation of philology has been lost. 34.Van de Waal 1946, p. 16. Van de Waal, however, outlines the situation of the still young art-historical discipline, which ‘by its very nature’ is not set up as such, p. 17: ‘It has been a regrettable development that the so much younger art history, which by its very nature was already predestined to ignore the importance of a comparative-explaining method, developed no more honorably than it did when, in the adjoining field of literature, the old philology was ousted from its place. (...) In other words, in art history the biographical and style-critical study of the artist and his work was immediately turned into a summarizing historiography without 25. 682 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 absolute or original meaning. Purpose is to locate the relative meaning of a work of art. This is determined by the extent to which it differs from simultaneous works of art, as well as by the extent to which it differs from similar works of art in other historical periods and places. In this sense, according to Van de Waal, the significance of visual material is linked to the process of ‘Nachleben’: the pattern of dispersion, migration and shift that touches both visual material and conceptual context. 35 What he has in mind is an analysis of visual processes in a broad, cultural-historical sense. 36 Such an approach ultimately has the task of ‘dealing with the complex processes of visual formation and image transfer within a given culture’. 37 In this context, Van de Waal introduced the term ‘iconology’. He regards it ‘as the science that describes and tries to explain the material collected by iconography’. 38 ‘I want to guard against a misunderstanding here that I consider the method I have just defended as the last word and as a key that fits all locks. Iconology, too, can never be anything other than a phase of development, than one of the many forms of art science’. 39 In addition to the significance of visual material, the artist’s place in Van de Waal’s view also becomes relational. 40 He emphasizes that ‘one must keep an eye on the connection between the work of art and the society for which it was intended and of which the artist who produced it was also a part’. 41 The tradition exists and lives on by the grace of the artist. But at the same time it is the artist who unconsciously and tacitly complies with tradition. 42 For ‘even the work of art knows its incubation period, not only in the inner self of its creator, but long before it announces itself in him, long before he himself existed, the elements were formed and the building stones made, with which he will, in a gifted moment, shape his work’.43 Although in his dissertation Rembrandt and the rules of art (1964) Emmens at first glance, does nothing more than tracing the ‘genesis’ of all sorts of words and terms, he outlines his own historical-iconological method in four chapters. In doing so, he follows a systematic (i.e. synchronous) working method. ‘The chronological sequence of the [painted] works in question will be neglected, if not completely, then at least in principle, because in dealing with them I adhere to the order in which the concepts at stake were discussed.’ 44 Then, and on that basis, he then indicates the changes, the mutations and evolutions in words and terms. 45 realizing that a method that deals with the function and significance of the work of art is not only indispensable, but can even provide a better basis for a synthesis’. 35. Van de Waal 1946, p. 23. 36. Van de Waal 1946, p. 21. 37. Van de Waal 1946, p. 24. And he continues on p. 25: ‘The broadest description of its task could therefore be: study of the function that “the image” (in Dutch: af- of uitbeelding) performs in a particular community’. 38. Van de Waal 1946, pp. 21-22. 39. Van de Waal 1946, p. 23, ‘examining the traditions that apply to the image’. 40. Van de Waal 1946, pp. 9-10. 41. Van de Waal 1946, p. 20. 42. Van de Waal 1946, p. 9: ‘Nevertheless, the rule that applies to the visual arts at least as much is that a correct understanding can only be supported by familiarity with the habits and customs that the artist tacitly and often unconsciously follows, by familiarity with the art of speech and the use of the language spoken by him, in short by an insight into the tradition he follows’. 43. Van de Waal 1946, pp. 11-12. 44. Emmens 1964, p. 146. 45. Elsewhere Emmens (1964, p. 30) also points to the systematic comparison inherent in his approach: ‘In order to demonstrate the traditional character of this complex, I will then wander through Italian and French art literature, emphasizing a few elements that remain the same. This will happen here and there to the detriment of 683 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 In the first chapter, he examines the modern notions which, in his view, are disastrous for an insight into historical material. Concepts which according to Emmens are based on nineteenth-century simplifications of seventeenth-century issues, which, if not consciously, were realized with the very best contemporary intentions. ‘It is clear that we must look for the cause of this enormous simplification not in the 17th century, but in the 19th century. The old opposition between the pagan Antiques, fixated on the body, and the Christian Moderns, fixated on the spirit, was associated during the Romantic period, by the Schlegel brothers (...), with the opposition between northern (Teutonic) and southern (Romanesque). 46 A ‘contamination’ of seventeenth-century concepts with other ‘romantic’ pairs of concepts (such as objective and subjective, national and medieval) thus a contradiction arose (between ‘academic rules’ and ‘romantic freedom’) that was unthinkable in the early modern period. 47 In the second chapter he presents the emergence of classicist terms in Italy, in the third their migration from Italy to Holland, as well as the evolving meanings and hybrid theories in which that results. Finally, in the fourth chapter he discusses pre-classicist art theory during the first part of the Dutch seventeenth century. The core of Emmens’ argument is that without analytical knowledge of words and texts (both modern and historical texts about art) no art-historical analysis can be carried out.48 If one leaves such a reflection on the words used, one produces meanings, but these are meanings without any historical relevance. (Or it should be modern ones based on ‘untenable assumptions’ that were ‘lazily projected back on history’).49 So, according to Emmens, one cannot do without insight into the evolving subjectivity of the artist, into the changing status of the art of painting (from craftmanship, via learnable knowledge to academic product) and into the transformation of the conception of art and the art concept. 50 Knowledge of the seventeenth-century relationship between literary texts and the visual arts, or of the changing meanings attached to images, is also required. ‘A work of art represents a certain conceptual climate. It seems to be a pre-eminently art scientific and art historical activity to reconstruct this “conceptual climate”, as is already happening all the time in art history. The question is, however, whether this determines the only “correct” significance of the work of art. As the “conceptual climate” changes, so does the significance of a work of art’. 51 An iconological analysis of visual material stands or falls with a preliminary insight into the concepts in which the development that can also be seen in it, but since I will return to this aspect in the fourth chapter, I think I can limit myself here mainly to the elements that remain the same’. 46. Emmens 1964, p. 16. 47. Emmens 1964, p. 20. 48. A point of view that, incidentally, has not always been appreciated by other art historians, according to apolemic with one of them. ‘My activity consisted of, and consists of, analyzing these “texts” in a historically sound way, if possible – an activity that may be “interesting”, according to Bolten. That’s not so bad. But, he writes, it’s about the artwork. I agree with him, only: what’s going on in an investigation is determined by the question. My question concerns the “texts” and fate simply wants that as soon as someone reacts with words to a work of art, he produces a “text”. Also, the statement: it’s about the work of art, for example, is such a “text”. Emmens 1981-IIH, p. 123. 49. Emmens 1981-IIE, p. 67; Emmens 1964, p. 168. 50. See Emmens’ articles ‘Inleiding bij de tentoonstelling’ (1964-1965), ‘Is er behoefte aan geschiedvervalsing?’ (1981-IIE), ‘Michael Sweerts: een tekenacademie’ (1981-IIF), ‘De kinderen van Homerus’ (1981-IIG), ‘Art, artist and society’ (1981-IIL), ‘Rudolf and Margot Wittkower, Born under saturn’ (1981-IIN), ‘Prinsenhof ideaal decor voor Dieric Bouts’ (1981-IG), ‘Hendrick Goltzius, virtuoos in goede manieren’ (1981-IH), ‘De uitvinding van de olieverf. Een kunsthistorisch probleem in de zestiende eeuw’ (1981-IJ). 51. Emmens, ‘Reputatie en betekenis van Rembrandt’s “Geslachte os”’, (1981-IIJ, p. 133). Zie voorts zijn ‘Ay Rembrant, maal Cornelis stem’ (1981-IB), ‘Apelles en Apollo. Nederlandse gedichten op schilderijen in de 17e eeuw’ (Emmens 1981-IA). 684 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 people thought about painting. ‘The study of the development of thoughts about the visual arts and of the artistic sense, insofar as this has been formulated into words – and thus, of the history of art theory in the broadest sense of the word – can be a means to coordinate the insights of style criticism on the one hand, and of iconography on the other.’ 52 Emmens distinguishes between the ‘emblematic meaning’ of a work of art and its iconological significance. Objects can be given an emblematic meaning on the basis of contemporary symbolism. In this way the meaningful objects give an extra emphasis and coloring to a tableau.53 The iconological significance has to be determined by means of an analytical method that today would be referred to as ‘Begriffsgeschichte’ or ‘history of concepts’.54 Paintings take their place within a broader conceptual history. The art historian is faced with the problem of ‘eine Darstellung, deren Beziehung – und damit zugleich deren Deutung – sich im Laufe der Jahrhunderte manchmal bedeutsam geändert hat, wieder mit ihrem eigentlichen alten Namen nennen, das heisst in ihrem historischen Zusammenhang interpretieren will. Vorsichtig muss auch er ans Werk gehen, ohne sicher zu wissen, welcher Gewährsmann – für ihn sind das die historischen Quellen – den richtigen Begriff verwendet, den nämlich, der zu dem Bild gehört, das seine Neugierde oder sein Interesse geweckt hat. So (...) gewinnt der Kunsthistoriker durch historisch richtige Beziehungen ein neues und tieferes Verständnis für das Kunstwerk der Vergangenheit. Eine solche Interpretation ist meist von Umwegen, Irrtümern und stets neuen Ansätzen begleitet.’ 55 After the death of Emmens, this distinction between attentive ‘emblematic’ meaning and the analytical practice that should follow has been neglected in Dutch iconology. Both aspects have been absorbed by the now familiar iconological exegesis. Miedema still defines her as the ‘science of representation’, 56 others summarize her in short as research into the meaning of works of art. 57 Alpers’ 52. Emmens, De kinderen van Homerus’ (1981-IIG, p. 87). Zie voorts zijn ‘H. Gerson, Seven letters by Rembrandt’ (1981-IIB), ‘The history of Dutch art history [met S.H. Levie]’ (1981-IIC), en ‘Rembrandt als genie’ (1981-IF). 53. Emmens 1981-IIA, p. 16. 54. Hampsher-Monk 1998, p. 8: ‘Eddy de Jongh (...) explores the more domestic world of Dutch genre painting. He presses the case for an iconographic reading of these paintings, stressing both the taligheid – literally the “linguistic-ness” – of art and the complementary, pictorialist, character of poetry.’ In the absence of contemporary theoretical treatises of genre-painting, De Jongh points to the widespread currency of renaissance topoi likening poetry to art, and of the popularity of emblem books, iconologies and illustrated collections of proverbs functioning almost as word-image dictionaries.’ Subsequently, the editors of the volume conclude: ‘Whilst this is not yet conceptual history, it provides the necessary groundwork for the creation of what might, giving the overwhelming importance and presence of art in early modern Dutch culture, turn out to be a significant and distinctive Dutch development of it, linking conceptual iconography and Begriffsgeschichte.’ But the editors are mistaken because the current Dutch iconology has, through its exegetical methodology, distanced itself from the analytical conceptual history that had been developed in the Netherlands at an early stage with Van de Waal and Emmens. 55. ‘a representation whose relationship - and thus at the same time its interpretation – has sometimes changed significantly over the centuries, wants to call it by its real old name again, i.e. interpret it in its historical context. He too must proceed cautiously, without knowing for certain which guarantor – for him these are the historical sources – uses the correct term, namely the one that belongs to the image that has aroused his curiosity or interest. Thus (...) the art historian gains a new and deeper understanding of the work of art of the past through historically correct relationships. Such an interpretation is usually accompanied by detours, mistakes and constantly new approaches.’ It should be noted that this text [Emmens 1981-IIO] has only been published posthumously and is not entirely by Emmens. Jochen Becker is responsible for the final editing. 56. Miedema 1989A, p. 33; further pp. 22, 90-91, 144-150. 57. Schatborn 1997, p. 7: ‘The emphasis was not so much on artistic developments as on the significance such works had for the seventeenth-century viewer. (...) research that, because of the interest in the meaning of the work of art, is referred to as iconology’. Schatborn refers to the method of interpretation introduced in the 685 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 characterization of this method as an emblematic interpretation via the objects is therefore in keeping with Emmens’ conception. 58 Emmens’ research resulted in iconological analyses. He concluded his dissertation with an analysis of some of Rembrandt’s works. In articles he has given image analyses of, for example, Dou, Stradanus and Sweerts. 59 He places images in iconographic series.60 He describes transformations in themes and in the signifying formation. 61 All this does not constitute an encore, but it is the final piece to which his method leads. 62 Unlike Van de Waal, his choice is often based on images that depict the art of painting itself. 63 Emmens and Van de Waal, in their iconological method, worked out the road that Warburg had in mind into a scientific method that leaves the seventeenth-century text and images in their own right. ‘It is true,’ writes Van de Waal in 1946, ‘for the influence of classical antiquity in general and the region of the Italian Renaissance in particular, invaluable work has already been done by Warburg and the staff of the Warburg Institute he founded. For the development of Dutch culture according to the described art-historical methods, however, hardly the first shovel has been put in the ground’.64 For Van de Waal and Emmens, the power of art historical research is to trace traditions and continuities, of types, stereotypical gestures and visual conventions. This is done by investigating the patterns and connections in which they take shape. Emmens emphasizes that ‘... one should not be deterred by the limitations of one’s specialism from taking steps in areas where one is less well (or not at all) at home’. 65 In this way Van de Waal and Emmens have taken exactly the opposite route from the one Panofsky took in his postwar work – a route that has been further reduced and simplified by Dutch iconologists since the 1970s. The art-historical method developed by Warburg, Emmens and Van de Waal is therefore at odds with what is now understood by ‘iconology’, both in the Netherlands and internationally. Looking is a prerequisite for all scholars investigating visual artifacts from history – photography, painting, film, architectural drawings, prints and advertising. But in order to know what one sees, one must have concepts at one’s disposal in order to be able to distinguish simultaneous and similar visual material. A disciplined eye therefore requires a reflection on the use of art-historical language: the words and the concepts matter. Not only must one be mindful of modern terms and unreflected ideas that influence the question, but also of the coherence in a historical vocabulary, of its survival and the changes of meaning that occur in it. The question of what is meant by ‘art’ (as part of a cosmic order or function in society, as handicraft, as an ars or as an academic product), how one defines the status of the catalogue and summarizes it as follows: ‘In the catalogue (...), most paintings are accompanied by emblems or prints with a caption which make the assumed meaning plausible or confirm it. In addition to contemporary literature, these prints are an important source for research into the ideas that underlie the representations’. 58. Alpers 1989, pp. 272-277. 59. See Emmens' articles ‘Natuur, onderwijzing, en oefening’ (1981-1A), ‘De zonnebloem als embleem in een schilderijlijst [met. J. Bruyn Hzn.]’ (1981-1E), ‘Het ontstaan van de kunstliefde’ (1981-IC). 60. Emmens 1964, p. 147. 61. Emmens 1964, pp. 147-148. 62. Emmens 1964, pp. 164-166. 63. Hecht 1998, p. 175 speaks in this – incorrect – about Emmens quest for a ‘visualized art theory’. 64. Van de Waal 1946, p. 25. 65. Emmens 1964, p. vii. 686 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 artist (in terms of ingenium or in terms of psychological self-expression), whether one calls the imitation of a painting ‘amusing’ because of its ability to depict ugliness and beauty, or because of the ideal Beauty it evokes – all this is historically determined. Insight into conceptual complexes, both past and present, is necessary in order to be able to analyze images. Re-reading the work of art historians such as Warburg and Gombrich, the early Panofsky, as well as Van de Waal and Emmens, highlights some of the paradoxical foundations of the art historical profession: on the one hand her object is visual, on the other hand the analysis expresses itself in language. On the one hand, the research is historicalcultural (change of works of art through time), on the other hand systematic-cultural (works of art as products of a shared culture). For this reason, a re-reading of art historical heritage is like working the ground on which we stand: after all, the paradoxes mentioned still form the starting point for any art historical analysis. Re-reading implies re-examining established viewpoints with the question of what an art historical study actually aims to do. In recent years, for example, many studies have appeared that have smoothly integrated into the Panofsky-Wittkower paradigm. Although brimming with knowledge, these interpretations of the early modern arts must be consulted with a certain amount of caution because of their specific ‘humanist-modern’ slant. For example, the extensive work of Joan Gadol (1969), Universal Man of the Early Renaissance, is based on the post-war idea designed by Panofsky and Wittkower, in which art is dominated by the neo-platonic humanist learning that advocates rational art and architecture with a deeper (symbolic) content. The last paragraph. 5.2.4, will show why. Re-reading, on the other hand, means securing the theoretical capital. Not by conserving the heritage, but by revitalize it by investing new visions in it. Due to a twist of fate, this process is only now beginning. Since the early 1970s, Dutch iconology and architectural history have developed in a fold of history. Now, thirty years later, the thread of disciplinary history is being picked up again internationally by many art historians. References Alpers, S., ‘Taking pictures seriously: a reply to Hessel Miedema’, in: Simiolus, 10 (1978B), 1, pp. 46-50. Alpers, S., De kunst van het kijken. Nederlandse schilderkunst in de zeventiende eeuw. 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Locher, J.L., ‘Lévi-Strauss en de strukturele bestudering van de kunst’, in: Opstellen voor H. van de Waal. Amsterdam/ Leiden 1970, pp. 101-114. Miedema, H., ‘J.A. Emmens, Rembrandt en de regels van de kunst’, in: Oud-Holland (1969), 43, pp. 249-256. Miedema, H., Kunsthistorisch. Maarssen/ ‘s-Gravenhage 1989A. Schatborn, P., ‘Woord vooraf’, in: E. de Jongh & G. Luijten, Spiegel van alledag. Nederlandse genreprenten 1550-1700. Amsterdam 1997, pp. 7-8. Scheller, R.W., ‘J.A. Emmens kijkt met het oog van het verstand’, in: Tirade (1972), 16, pp. 485-495. Sluijter, E.J., ‘Traditie en bezieling: Henri van de Waal (1910-1972), in: P. Hecht, C. Stolwijk & A. Hoogenboom (ed.), Kunstgeschiedenis in Nederland. Negen opstellen. Amsterdam 1998, pp. 145-168. Tirade: In memoriam Jan A. Emmens, 16 oktober 1972. Uitert, E., van, ‘Jan Emmens en het kunsthistorisch instituut’, in: Tirade (1972), 16, pp. 504-509. Waal, H. van de, ‘The Syndics and their legend’, in: R.H. Fuchs (ed.), H. van de Waal. Steps towards Rembrandt. Amsterdam/ London 1974, pp. 247-291. Waal, H. van de, Drie eeuwen vaderlandsche geschied-uitbeelding 1500-1800. Een iconologische studie. ‘sGravenhage 1952. Waal, H. van de, Traditie en Bezieling. Rotterdam/ Antwerpen 1946. 688 

VRIJE UNIVERSITEIT THE HOUSE AND THE RULES OF THOUGHT A cultural-historical research into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats, Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten ACADEMIC DISSERTATION in order to obtain the degree of doctor at the Vrije Universiteit of Amsterdam, by authority of the Rector Magnificus prof. dr. T. Sminia, to defend publicly in the presence of the Doctorate Committee of the Faculty of Arts on Tuesday 28 January 2003 at 1.45 p.m. in the university auditorium, De Boelelaan 1105 by Heidi de Mare born in Amsterdam 1 supervisors prof. dr. Willem Th.M. Frijhoff prof. dr. Ed. S.H. Tan doctorate committee dr. Caroline van Eck, History of Early Modern Architectural Theory prof. dr. Marlite Halbertsma, Historical Aspects of Art and Culture prof. dr. Marijke Spies, Historical Literature prof. dr. Ilja M. Veltman, Art History and Iconology Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Website & research: https://independent.academia.edu/HeidideMare/ https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Heidi-De-Mare https://maatschappelijkeverbeelding.nl/ 2 Preface vii Introduction. There is a house in Holland Chapter 1. Sources and Methodology 1.1. Sources 1.1.1. Simon Stevin and his Architectural Treatise 1.1.2. The Houwelick by Jacob Cats 1.1.3. Pieter de Hooch and his Paintings [6] 53 1.2. Methodological principles of historical formalism 1.2. Introduction. A Cultural-Historical Study of the Arts 1.2.1. A History of the Arts 1.2.2. The Arts as Formal Signifying Systems 1.2.3. Source Criticism 1.2.4. Vocabulary, Text Analysis and Deployment Chapter 2. 21 37 69 75 85 97 105 Simon Stevin and the Liberated House 2.1. The Arrangement in the House 2.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the House 2.1.1. Matter and Firmness 2.1.2. Finding of the Cleansed Chamber 2.1.3. Classification of things and people according to the order of Nature 2.1.4. Properties of the house drawing 2.2. Arrangements in the field of architectural thinking 2.2.1. Pillar, congruence and comfortable appearance 2.2.2. The full home drawing as a memory system of architectural knowledge 2.2.3. Architecture, reflection and execution Chapter 3. 1 119 125 141 157 177 195 213 231 Jacob Cats and the House as Honorable Enterprise 3.1. The arrangement of the house company 3.1. Introduction: The arrangement of the house company 3.1.1. House as business, household goods and mistress of the house 3.1.2. The art of love and the tableau of characters 3.1.3. Passions and instincts 3.1.4. Spirituality in the house 3 251 265 285 305 32 3.2. Arrangements in the art of living well 3.2.1. The house as a matrimonial matter of honor 3.2.2. The house as condensation of the art of living well 3.2.3. An eloquent mean Chapter 4. Pieter de Hooch and the Chamber Scape 4.1. The Arrangement on the Flat Plane 4.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the Flat Plane [21] 4.1.1. The Translucency of the Chamber Scape [38] 4.1.2. The Study of the Enclosed Chamber Lights [58] 4.1.3. The Art of Suitable Color Matching [76] 4.1.4. Bodies [103] 4.2. Arrangements in Visual Knowledge 4.2.1. The Art of Painting as Work [132] 4.2.2. Pictorial Archive and the Chamber Scape as Sediment [156] 4.2.3. The Moving Painting and the Craving Eye [183] 4.2.4. From the Art of Painting to the Theory of Art [216] Chapter 5. 341 361 379 399 415 435 451 473 499 519 547 577 Aggregation, Reflection and Speculation 5.1. Aggregation 5.1. Introduction 5.1.1. The study of Nature in the early modern period 5.1.2. Visual knowledge 5.1.3. The burgher and the benefits of natural philosophical knowledge 5.1.4 Aristotle in Holland 5.2. Reflection 5.2.1. Aby Warburg and cultural history as a scholarly field of study 5.2.2. Art history according to Panofsky, Wittkower and Gombrich 5.2.3. The Dutch art historians Van de Waal and Emmens 5.2.4. Plato and the Dutch Art and Architectural History 591 597 613 627 639 649 663 679 689 Epilogue. Closer to home: on the usefulness of cultural-historical sensibility 709 Summary 719 Notes Bibliography Visual material Origins visual material 733 971 1055 1365 4 Images Chapter 4 – Beeldpagina’s [Bp] Bp.4.001-010 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170973/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+001+10.pdf Bp.4.011-020 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170975/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+011+20.pdf Bp.4.021-040 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170977/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+021+40.pdf Bp.4.041-060 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170979/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+041+60.pdf Bp.4.061-080 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170981/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+061+80.pdf Bp.4.081-091 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170983/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+081+91.pdf Bp.4.092-110 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170985/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+092+110.pdf Bp.4.111-130 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170987/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+111+130.pdf Bp.4.131-150 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170989/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+131+150.pdf Bp.4.151-170 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170991/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+151+170.pdf Bp.4.171-190 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170993/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+171+190.pdf Bp.4.191-197 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170995/Hoofdstuk+4+afb+191+197.pdf 5 1.1.3. Pieter de Hooch and his Paintings ‘Pieter de Hooch’s fame rests today primarily on the series of superbly tranquil interior and courtyard scenes which he began in the late 1650s. Peopled by only a few middle class figures, these works depict quiet episodes from everyday life. Orderly space predominates and the effects of light and atmosphere are acutely observed. As the author of these pictures, De Hooch has come to be regarded, along with his contemporary, Johannes Vermeer, as one of the outstanding artists who were active in Delft in the mid-seventeenth century’, Peter C. Sutton 1980, Pieter de Hooch. Complete Edition, p. 7. ‘De Hooch’s art explored expressive new uses of space and perspective and featured a heightened sensitivity to aerated light. Although his merry company subjects addressed time-honored genre themes, his representations of domestic life were new and radiate an unprecedented spirit of solicitude, tranquility, and virtuous diligence’, Peter C. Sutton 1998, Pieter de Hooch 1629-1684, p. 11. Pieter de Hooch was born the eldest son of mason Hendrick Hendricksz de Hooch and midwife Annetge Pieters. According to the baptism book of the Reformed church he was baptized in Rotterdam on December 20, 1629.1 Nothing is known about his youth and education.2 According to a statement by Arnold Houbraken in his Groote Schouburgh der Nederlantsche Konstschilders en schilderessen of 1718, it is suspected that, before settling in Delft (1652), De Hooch was apprenticed in Haarlem, together with the genre painter Jacob Ochtervelt (16341682), to Nicolaes Berchem (1620-1683) who became famous for his Italianate landscapes.3 Others point to similarities in his work with that of Ludolf de Jong (1616-1679). De Jongh worked in Rotterdam (1643-1665) when De Hooch was still registered at his parental address.4 De Hooch’s early scenes painted in tans and ochres with peasants and soldiers, barns and guardrooms in particular bear great resemblance to paintings by De Jong and also to works by the Rotterdam painter Hendrick Sorgh (1609/11-1670). There are also similarities, both with the work of Adriaen Brouwer (1606-1638), who came from the Southern Netherlands, and with that of Gerard Ter Borch (1617-1681), who painted numerous scenes from military life in the 1650s. Although he worked in Deventer, his work was well known in Holland.5 On 3 May 1654 De Hooch married Jannetje van de Burch.6 They had seven children, only a few of whom reached adulthood. From 1652 to approximately 1660, De Hooch worked in Delft and in 1655 he became a member of the Lucas Guild of this city. It is possible that the cloth merchant Justus de la Grange acted as patron in this period. He owns at least ten paintings by De Hooch.7 In the Delft artistic milieu of this period, brother-in-law Hendrick van der Burch (1627-after 1666) was also active, as well as Carel Fabritius (1622-1654) and Johannes Vermeer (1632-1675). From 1655 onwards his work changed considerably, both in style and in subjects. ‘The master gains more interest in the 6 perspectival representation of the space and for its illumination’. His color palette became brighter and instead of the male figures such as farmer and soldier, female figures now receive more attention. 8 After 1660, De Hooch left with his family and children for Amsterdam, where his seventh child was born in 1672. At the same time, Emanuel de Witte (1617-1692),9 Gabriël Metsu (1629-1667), Rembrandt van Rijn (1606-1669), Willem Kalf (1619-1693) and Willem van de Velde the Elder (1611-1693), and later Nicolaes Maes (1634-1693) and Jacob Ochtervelt (1634-1682), among others, worked there.10 His paintings now show the sumptuous interiors of Amsterdam’s patrician houses. The figures become more elegant and their colors purer. Nevertheless, according to Sutton and others, he had had his best days. Until his death, in 1684 in the Dolhuis [the madhouse], he remained in Amsterdam. Despite his commissions for the wealthy bourgeoisie, he did not improve financially, as evidenced, among other things, by the fact that he and his family always lived at a temporary address in the poorer parts of Amsterdam. 11 Pieter de Hooch’s genre painting has been regularly featured in art historical publications over the past twenty years. 12 Peter C. Sutton in particular has been intensively involved with his paintings. In 1980 he wrote a monograph, and, in the autumn of 1998, he organized the first retrospective, which brought together some forty works by this painter.13 The three themes dealt with by Sutton also crop up among other art historians, although sometimes in their own interpretations. In this context, Martha Hollander (1990 and 2000), Marlite Halbertsma (1991), Anne Hollander (1991), Wayne Franits (1993, 1997 and 2000) and Michiel Kersten (1996) should be mentioned in particular. So, the secondary literature focuses on the following subjects: 1. intimate family relationships, especially between mothers and children; 2. the clear perspectival space and 3. the warm representation of domestic life in the city. I will give a brief account of the main views on these three themes. De Hooch’s current art-historical approach can be typified as ‘an almost clinical analysis of stylistic and iconographic sources’ with ample attention to the social context.14 Most authors – with the exception of Martha Hollander, who explicitly states that she does not want to give a chronology, but a typology – treat De Hooch’s works in parallel with his biography. This also explains why one has to make an occasional trip to certain thematic issues, which cannot be deduced from the biography. De Hooch’s early paintings usually include pubs or barns with soldiers, some civilians and a single young woman or child. The only known history piece by De Hooch is The liberation of Peter from prison (1650-1655) (bp.4.2.1).15 Most writers, however, focus their attention on later work. After 1655 these were domestic scenes and ‘Pieter de Hooch painted either industrious, virtuous mothers, or elegant, well-dressed groups in neat, orderly rooms of houses 7 that betrayed considerable prosperity’, as Kersten writes (bp.4.7-bp.4.26).16 This characterization can be found in one form or another in all the authors. These paintings have been regarded as ‘genre painting’ since the end of the eighteenth century because of their ordinary and everyday subjects.17 As such, they are opposed to paintings in which more elevated subjects are depicted, such as biblical or mythological stories. The latter were highly valued in contemporary art theory – genre painting was not.18 In line with current iconological views, Sutton argues that in these art-theoretical writings little or nothing is said about the interpretation of genre painting and they say ‘nothing about the didactic functions or deeper meanings of genre painting’.19 Eddy de Jongh has always fervently defended this point of view and recently summarized it as follows: ‘What has been written on genre painting and genre painters in the literature on Dutch art from Karel van Mander (1604) to Gerard de Lairesse (1707) would probably fit on two, or at the most three pages and is therefore negligible’.20 Outside the art historical circuit, too, this point of view found much resonance – especially among cultural historians and literary historians.21 De Hooch’s interiors and courtyards are populated with groups of human figures. Several authors point out that the genre of the cheerful groups already had some history in Holland. This subject originated in scenes derived from biblical scenes – such as ‘The Prodigal Son’, ‘The Life of Mary Magdalene’ – or allegorical themes – such as ‘The Five Senses’, ‘The Seven Deadly Sins’ – which were popular in the sixteenth century. 22 In later times this developed into the genre of merry companies. Names such as Dirck van Delen (1604/-1671) and the Haarlem painters Pieter Codde (1599-1678), Willem Buytewech (1591/2-1624), Willem Duyster (1598/1599-1635) and Dirck Hals (1591-1656) and the later Delft-based Anthonie Palamedesz (1601-1673) painted these cheerful, elegant companies.23 De Hooch continues on this path. He shows young women and men enjoying themselves with games, music and drinks. There are also young women who read a letter in seclusion, accept a letter or receive a young man on the domestic threshold.24 According to Sutton it is remarkable that he adds his own variation to these ‘companies’. ‘De Hooch also seems to have originated an amorous, dare one say post-coital, theme, namely that of lovers or quite possibly married couples (their status is unclear) rising in the morning’.25 An extensive category within De Hooch’s oeuvre – it covers more than a third of his work – forms scenes ‘of everyday life’ and ‘simple situations in the home’.26 They depict mothers, children and a single maidservant, usually doing all kinds of domestic work in a middle-class interior or in an enclosed garden or intimate courtyard.27 Now themes related to motherhood or domestic tasks have been depicted before in Europe. In the fifteenth century interiors appear in Northern Italy and in Flanders with, for example, an image of Mary with the infant Jesus. Halbertsma already pointed to early medieval images in which Mary is seated on 8 a throne, and the child in turn thrones on her lap. Italian paintings from the fourteenth century onwards show changes: Mary descends and becomes a humble woman, sitting on the ground. At the same time there are images in which Mary gives the child the breast. The third change takes place when in Flemish art of the fifteenth century Mary and the infant Christ ‘are depicted in a domestic setting as a mother working with husband and child. (...) The Holy Family thus becomes a holy family’.28 This is reflected in the work of Jan van Eyck (c. 1390-1441): he paints an ideal, sacred inner space which he juxtaposes with a secular outer space.29 Hollander supports this interpretation and writes: ‘... representations of the Christian family adopt the already established formula for the Holy Family: a centralized mother and child and an isolated father. Furthermore, this pictorial format is adopted despite the fact that while Joseph actually is a subsidiary figure, the head of the seventeenth-century Dutch household was considered the chief figure’.30 In the sixteenth century the kitchen piece is created, as in the paintings of Pieter Aertsen (1509-1575) and Joachim Beuckelaer (1530-1573). Although domestic subjects can also be seen in prints 31 and paintings from the first half of the seventeenth century, 32 it was not until around 1650 that the theme became really popular. Amidst painters such as Gerard Dou (1613-1675), Jan Baptist Weenix (1621-1660), Nicolaes Maes and Gerard Ter Borch, De Hooch’s paintings occupy a special place due to their large number.33 The rise of these domestic scenes is explained in different ways. According to Halbertsma there was a turnaround in themes. She makes a connection between ‘the demand for these new representations and the public in the city for which these representations were made’. While in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries the subject would still be the ‘Other’ in all its negative qualities, from 1650 onwards a positive image was created, showing the citizen in his home and in his virtuous capacities. ‘In my opinion, however, too little attention has been paid to the fact that the wear and tear of the old negative morality simultaneously meant the establishment of a new positive morality’, writes Halbertsma. ‘After 1650, Dutch genre painting no longer depicts how others lead a loose life, but now focuses the citizens themselves: much more than in the past, we are now with the well-to-do citizens in their spotless houses, where they do all sorts of neat bourgeois things such as writing letters, making music and (...) raising children’.34 According to others, such as Sutton, the paintings around 1650 would directly reflect the social situation in Dutch civilization at that time. Referring to social-historical research on the development of the modern nuclear family, Sutton writes: ‘The Dutch celebrated the family as the primary social unit and regarded domestic virtue and order as the highest social priority. The teachings of Martin Luther, Erasmus of Rotterdam, and other theologians of the Reformation stressed that marriage was humankind’s most honorable state, ordained by God. With the abolition of monasticism and clerical celibacy in the Protestant Republic, 9 the family increasingly supplemented and even superseded the church as the principal forum of moral instruction and character development’.35 Especially in Protestant Calvinist circles the ideal of a modern nuclear family was cherished: 36 a small number of children and (for the first time) a role for women. 37 Jacob Cats’ Houwelick would have played an important role in this. His description of the model family on the basis of the successive stages of the woman’s life, his emphasis on affectionate contact with children, his advice to breastfeed and many other facets of domestic life seem to be directly represented in De Hooch’s work.38 In addition to Cats’ ideas, those of Petrus Wittewrongel, William Gouge and Johan van Beverwijck also resound in the paintings. 39 ‘Domestic themes in art may exhibit distinct connections with books like Houwelick, but it would be reductive to regard them as illustrations of literary ideals’ is how Franits explains his idea of Cats’ influence on De Hooch. ‘Yet it would be equally reductive to deem them value-free slices of life. In their ostensibly faithful rendition of the surrounding world, and in their painstaking attention to detail, paintings of domestic themes can rightly be called realistic. Nevertheless, their realism is merely plausible because they do not simply transcribe daily life in the Netherlands during the seventeenth century. It is now common knowledge that the verisimilitude of paintings, their presentation of a plausible reality that was so esteemed, served as a conduit for ideas and associations’.40 So, there is a broad consensus that De Hooch depicts the domestic life of the citizen in all its glory.41 After the Second World War, the social interpretation of the binnenhuis [interior] became so commonplace that other and earlier interpretations were forgotten. In 1860, for example, Thoré-Bürger discussed De Hooch’s paintings more in theatrical terms, comparing De Hooch with Balzac. 42 ‘Balzac’s preceding topography is useful in understanding De Hooch’s paintings in which the domestic interior – the home as the English call it – with all its charms, has such importance. It isn’t that the people are accessories, but they are inseparable from the [place]. Everything is created for them, above all the light which animates and cheers them. All is a harmonious milieu, where one can live as in one’s own home, doing something, nothing much, perhaps nothing at all’.43 And Brugmans starts his book Het Huiselijk en Maatschappelijk Leven onszer Voorouders [on the in Domestic and Social Life of our Ancestors] in 1931 with De Hooch’s painting Binnenhuis, because of the presence of the city, especially in the house. For Brugmans, bourgeois culture is first and foremost public culture. ‘The Netherlands is the urban country par excellence. Nowhere else will you find so many large and important cities in a small space close to each other. Nowhere else have the cities developed so well. Nowhere have they managed to acquire such an influence on national government. Nowhere have they so clearly made their mark on society. Nowhere has its meaning for civilization been so important. 10 Nowhere have cities so completely marked the entire life of the people. Nowhere does the whole culture have such an urban character...’.44 Afterwards, the attention shifted to the themes of everyday domestic life that Pieter de Hooch would have portrayed in a positive way for the first time. Annie and Jan Romein point out in 1934 that De Hooch’s paintings in which he ‘placed the quiet daily life in the dwelling of the ordinary citizen in the idealizing light of the summer afternoon’ were highly appreciated.45 Noordam has a similar mood in mind when he writes in 1961: ‘The small Dutch interiors by Vermeer and De Hoogh with their quiet twilight and closing shutters express this ideal [a high level of seclusion and privacy] and in principle it has always remained that way’.46 In 1966 Rosenberg repeats this in his own words when he writes: ‘The glory of De Hooch’s genre painting is largely founded on his enchanting representations of homely scenes in which a mother or maid and a child appear in an interior or a courtyard in some harmless occupation. These works, which strike a tender note, free from sentimentality, make us understand why his reputation is unshakable’.47 And Schama too enters this track and perpetuates this image by adding his words: ‘The sunlight flows into an impeccable, but sober room; the fireplace is decorated with Delft blue tiles and above the nursing mother hangs a biblical scene. In the foreground a maid sweeps a floor that already looks spotless. There is a sacred, homely atmosphere: devoutness in the sun-drenched face and the immaculate, bare wooden floor’.48 In 1998 this shared fascination broadened even further, witness the many studies on ‘De Hooch’s comforting images of housewives, mothers, and children in relation to seventeenth-century literature on domestic conduct’ on which Sutton relies. Since his publication in 1980, these images have been studied ‘in far greater depth in book-length studies that add important sociological insights and nuance’.49 Almost without exception, the authors mentioned here agree that De Hooch’s paintings speak of ‘warmth and intimacy, maternal tenderness, and the security and comfort of the home’.50 The evil outside world is elsewhere and excluded in ‘the unhurried way of life of the comfortable bourgeois, shut away in his own little world, surrounded by the four walls of his house, where the troubles and worries of the real world outside could not reach him’.51 Jan Steen – who is often compared to De Hooch – would in a comical or old-fashioned way show the opposite of this domestic harmony in the ideal nuclear family (bp.4.186bp.4.192).52 The pre-eminently feminine tasks Cats mentioned and which Adriaen van de Venne (1589-1662) depicted in emblemata – such as spinning, sewing and not forgetting cleansing – return time and again to De Hooch.53 ‘We see shiningly polished floors and bedpans, crystal clear starched linen in anxiously neat piles ...’.54 These activities, known from a biblical context and illuminated by instructive series of prints by Coornhert and Van Heemskerck, have become synonyms for domestic virtue as such (bp.4.169). 55 By extension, reference is made to other ‘potentially symbolic’ details in De Hooch’s paintings, such as 11 cleaning (sign of inner virtue), the regular presence of bird cages (sign of the joy of marriage or sign of lost virginity), the bunch of grapes (sign of the woman’s honor) and making music together (sign of family harmony).56 Although Sutton is fairly certain that De Hooch has read Cats’ work, he has a problem with the iconographic interpretation: ‘Notwithstanding the congruence of image and emblem, and the enthusiastic support this observation has received from some quarters, De Hooch’s general pattern of disregard for specific emblematic or metaphorical dimensions ought to elicit caution and skepticism’.57 Against this background, it is not surprising that several authors call the interior space in De Hooch’s paintings feminized. In other words: strictly separated from the masculine atmosphere outside. Rybczynski writes in 1986: ‘The feminization of the home in seventeenth-century Holland was one of the most important events in the evolution of the domestic interior. (...) Not only was the house becoming more intimate, it was also, in the process, acquiring a special atmosphere. It was becoming a feminine place, or at least a place under feminine control. This control was tangible and real. It resulted in cleanliness, and in enforced rules, but it also introduced something to the house which had not existed before: domesticity’.58 And a few years later Hollander (1990) repeats this: ‘De Hooch’s division of the world into enclosure and vista transforms this association of domestic and social life into a strict distinction between masculine and feminine spheres of activity’.59 As ‘guardian of bourgeois Dutch morals’ the woman is lady of the house and in that capacity she is venerated. 60 ‘De Hooch is the founder of an entirely new type of subject, in which women are shown as housewives and mothers. They embody true civic virtue and true civic pride: being so prosperous that you can afford a clean house and a housewife of your own’.61 The well-to-do citizen himself (the father of the family) is sidelined at De Hooch. Many authors point to this sidelining, exclusion, invisibility of the lord of the house: sometimes he is just entering the domestic domain, sometimes he is on his way out. Sometimes he is symbolically on the boundary between inside and outside, when he is hanging – as a portrait – on the wall, close to the window that offers a view of the urban masculine sphere of influence. 62 This is the area where the money is earned and therefore the condition for the existence of this interior. Mercury – the god of commerce – which De Hooch paints a few times on the threshold between inside and outside would refer to this.63 ‘Domestic, that is, feminine labor is represented in the form of putting away linen, while masculine labor is represented as commerce. The statue of Mercury that refers to the business of commerce provides a surrogate for the absent man of the house’.64 In this sense De Hooch’s paintings are a direct representation of the patriarchal values in Dutch bourgeois society adapted to labor relations around 1650. ‘In contrast to medieval iconography, the depiction has shifted entirely to the current Dutch situation. What used to be only accessible to saints in optimal form can 12 now be reached by every ordinary man and woman: father and mother are like a form of “innerweltliche Askese” [inner asceticism]’.65 So, the process of appropriation, which we have seen at work with Stevin and Cats before, also appears to leave traces in the way De Hooch’s work is conceived. Modern experiences, notions or ideals can be ‘recognized’ in De Hooch’s paintings. That in itself does not have to be untruthful, but it does carry the risk of a far-reaching reduction. This is one of the reasons why – just as in the case of Cats [Chapter 3] and Stevin [Chapter 2] – in my own analysis, I argue for a more historicizing approach to the visual material. The second theme is the way in which Pieter de Hooch depicts a domestic space as such. In doing so, he makes use of vistas to the urban environment: the intimacy of the interior space is emphasized by a street, a canal or a row of façades on the other side of the street.66 Introduced by Nicolaes Maes, the illusionistic vista is also applied by Samuel van Hoogstraten, while De Hooch has perfected it.67 ‘De Hooch’s device of opening the vista from one room to another, or from a courtyard into a house, and then again from there into the street is not a mere play with perspective: it adds a pictorial and psychological note of some significance. De Hooch sensed that in daily life one often experiences a pleasant relief when a relationship between indoor and outdoor space is established by the widened outlook and by the enrichment of light and atmosphere which it brings,’ Rosenberg writes in 1966.68 In her dissertation Martha Hollander points to the specific function of the vista in the paintings of Nicolaes Maes and Pieter de Hooch. She sees it as a rigid ‘compositional device’ with which Dutch painters organize ‘their representations of social and domestic life’.69 ‘De Hooch uses this rigid organization of space, as a means of setting up contrasts and associations between domestic and civic life’.70 Several of the architectural and urban elements are borrowed from actually existing locations. Sutton points out that especially in De Hooch’s courtyards recognizable urban aspects can be mentioned: ‘We recognize not only the steeples of the Oude Kerk and Nieuwe Kerk but also the rooftop of the Town Hall and other buildings’. De Hooch’s paintings show buildings from Delft and Amsterdam, although he often puts them together – as is customary in this day and age71 – in a fictitious and idealized way.72 On the other hand, some parts – such as the enclosed garden or courtyard that De Hooch depicts as an extension of the domestic environment – may have a symbolic connotation. 73 For instance, Sutton points to the Hortus Conclusus-tradition that gives the place of women in Holland an extra meaning. This is reinforced when one considers that Holland itself is presented politically as a closed garden. 74 Sutton emphasizes that despite such connotations not too much should be sought behind the ‘garden’ in De Hooch’s paintings. 13 For many, the clarity and rationality of the interior are Pieter de Hooch’s trademark. According to Hollander he was possessed by it. ‘De Hooch’s intense, almost obsessive interest in ordering the picture space, and furthermore, in articulating the relationship between the interior and the exterior’.75 The rigid spatial order in his paintings is the result of a meticulous and pure perspectival depth.76 He shares his ‘expressive use of perspective’ with others from the Delft School, such as Gerard Houckgeest (c. 1600-1661), Carel Fabritius (1622-1654), Emanuel de Witte and Johannes Vermeer (bp.4.46.1).77 It is also part of a Dutch tradition in which architectural painting developed as a separate category. Starting with Vredeman de Vries (1527-ca. 1609), via the fictitious churches of Bartholomeus van Bassen (c. 1590-1652), the box-like compositions of Dirck van Delen and Isaac Koedijk (c. 1616-1668), more and more painters succeed in ‘opening up space’ as Martha Hollander puts it. They can all be seen as a premonition of De Hooch, who would develop greater spatial awareness after 1657.78 De Hooch creates his lines of perspective in a way that was customary at the time.79 With the help of a wire on a nail – in some paintings the hole in the canvas is still visible, just as in Vermeer’s – the orthogonal perspectival lines can be traced. In this way the tile floors, vistas, windows, doors, walls and furniture are given a self-evident, perfectly realistic appearance. Some emphasize De Hooch’s ‘complete mastery of space construction’ and ‘absolute mastery of perspective’.80 Others place more emphasis on the fact that, unlike Vermeer, De Hooch does not use a rigid system. As Sutton writes: ‘De Hooch made a much greater attempt to accommodate the moving eye in his evocation of the illusion of space’.81 And Kemp says something similar when he remarks: ‘Equally characteristically, the constructional geometry is endowed with a kind of homely irregularity – perhaps we should call it a sense of humanity – through the use of differently oriented patterns in the secondary spaces, and not uncommonly by the portrayal of tiles of different size and shape from those in the foreground’.82 According to both last writers, the perspective order at De Hooch never becomes a goal in itself: ‘... the orderly context of De Hooch’s interiors and their adjoining courtyards and gardens creates an eminently comforting home environment, the objective correlative of domestic virtue’.83 Sutton points out that De Hooch does not base himself on theoretical writings about perspective that have appeared since Alberti’s Della Pictura (1435).84 Nevertheless, his work is regularly included in studies on the role of perspective or on the spatial effect of architecture as an illustration of the working method. For example, Kemp takes De Hooch as an example the way in which Dutch painters created their interiors. ‘Whenever he wished to describe one of his typically enticing series of intimate glimpses through a succession of domestic spaces, he almost invariably used canonical perspective in foreground to establish 14 the pace of the recession. This even applies to exterior pavements composed from rougher tiles or bricks of varied sizes’.85 This brings me to the third theme on which there is consensus in literature: the fact that he depicts a warm, homely, but above all a brilliant atmosphere. Rosenberg’s evocation of 1966 is typical of the way in which authors before and after him try to put into words their experience with De Hooch. ‘De Hooch’s light (...) is also daylight, but warmer, sunnier and more intense, leading to deeper contrasts with the shadows. (...). Reflections interfere and make the play of light more vivid and emotionally richer. Finally, in accordance with his warmer and more glowing sunlight atmosphere, De Hooch’s colors too are warmer, deeper, and often of an extraordinary brilliance and intensity’.86 For that purpose De Hooch uses certain colors, incoming light and reflections. ‘De Hooch was the first genre painter to fully appreciate that naturalistic pictorial space is more than a matter of orthogonal geometry’.87 It is pointed out that De Hooch's early color palette consisted mainly of tans. It was not until around 1658 that he began to work with bright, shiny and unmixed colors, such as red, blue and yellow, which made his paintings sparkle and shine. For several authors, the warm tone and the sunny, gilded atmosphere would be a representation of orderliness and homeliness, an atmosphere that contrasts with the world outside. ‘The bright golden light that the picture is bathed in reinforces the impression of an ordered way of life and gives the scene an air of placidity and blissful comfort’ according to an exhibition catalogue.88 But in other studies, too, the colors tempt one to make interpretations, as is shown in Hollander’s description of a work by De Hooch. ‘The warm colors, the woman’s affectionate expression, and particularly, the sunlight shining through the little girl’s untidy wisps of hair, capturing the energy of her game, are atmospheric touches that celebrate without qualification the pleasures of work and play’.89 Similarly, the primary colors of women’s clothing – ‘red, yellow and blue’ – symbolize the newly acquired domestic role of the housewife. It forms ‘the perfect complement to her iconic ideal of motherhood and caring,’ according to Sutton.90 The Hooch’s meticulous rendering and placement of things in the interior would be further related to an interest in domestic comfort. He is able to register the light entering the room on objects and people in a special way. 91 ‘The pursuit of a tangible reality is (...) largely suggested by the representation of a well observed light effect’.92 He firmly sets out contours and shapes of objects, the posture and gesture of figures in the interior. ‘The light gently descends from a window at the upper right, spreads across the white-washed wall and the rustcolored tiles of the floor and highlights the gleaming dishes on the mantle. Subtle distinctions of texture, whether the powdery surface of plaster, the dull sheen of tile, or higher spectral gloss of glazed earthenware, and the nubble of the woven fabric on the mantle are masterfully conveyed’.93 Research has since shown that 15 De Hooch only added the figures afterwards, giving them a somewhat inferior position in the painting in which space and things were central. 94 ‘De Hooch showed himself to be a skillful but not a purely figurative painter: the depiction of space was of primary importance to him and the persons were subordinate to it. In his earlier paintings the characters appear somewhat stiff. They often have the same or similar poses: it seems as if his repertoire of postures was limited’.95 Several times he used his own wife and children as models. Van Thienen still believed that De Hooch did this because of a certain inability to paint figures. 96 But Sutton emphasized that it was common practice in Holland and can also be seen with Rembrandt and Jan Steen. It should certainly not be misunderstood as an autobiographical sign.97 Everything in the painting breathes homeliness and intimacy. The characters De Hooch paints therefore do not stand alone: they are said to be primarily intended as personifications of domesticity (‘representatives of domesticity’).98 De Hooch’s ultimate goal was not ‘to portray his family, but to paint a symbol of the virtuous housewife’, concludes Kersten.99 Art historians have traditionally paid attention to this ‘realism’, i.e. to the impression that De Hooch was concerned with ‘a pure reproduction’ of everyday reality.100 ‘At first glance this might seem like a commonplace snapshot of ordinary Dutch life. Indeed, in some ways it does faithfully mirror reality’.101 On these grounds, cultural historians have chosen to use De Hooch’s paintings as a historical source, especially of the material world, such as Collomp (1989) for example: ‘The Flemish and Dutch interiors give an accurate picture of the furniture and architecture of the houses of their time. Pieter de Hoogh allows us to enter the living quarters of urban families or the connecting rooms when it comes to the most well-to-do. The northern light that shines through high windows is reflected in the gleamingly clean checkerboard pattern of the floors and highlights the patina of the furniture. The bed box is in a dark corner’.102 But also afterwards, historians have tried to distil information about everyday life or the interior of the house from the seventeenth-century paintings. For, as Wijsenbeek-Olthuis (1992) argues, ‘Paintings are an obvious source for the study of urban dwelling and lifestyle. A small interior by Johannes Vermeer or Gerard Dou, for example, gives an idea of the layout of houses in the seventeenth century’.103 Historians acknowledge that such a use of visual material is risky, that the sources must be treated with caution and that due account must be taken of art-historical findings. ‘That is why it is dangerous to base considerations about clothing and furnishings exclusively on visual art. Moreover, the over-representation of the highest classes in the preserved portraits and the often caricatural character of the depictions of the poorest also create a false impression’.104 This view, in which Dutch seventeenth-century painting is conceived as a more or less direct representation of the reality of the time, is indeed accompanied by numerous problems. For, the reasoning is, however truthful De Hooch’s 16 paintings may seem, they should not be regarded as the ‘photographic representation of a situation’.105 However realistic they may look, De Hooch’s paintings are invented.106 Or, as Rybczynski generally put it, ‘photographic as his paintings appear, they are imagined, not real’.107 The proof of De Hooch’s imaginative manipulation can be found in the fact that he changed reality, sometimes by changing details or by ‘always making different combinations of certain fragments’ which enabled him to evoke new atmospheres.108 ‘Because of the phenomenal talent of the painter, each of the many variations makes a very natural and realistic impression’.109 He often ‘manipulated reality for artistic reasons’ and ‘rarely is a Delft interior a precise copy’.110 It turns out that ‘the composition, the lighting effects, the construction of the perspective and, finally, the use of color have been carefully thought out’.111 Sutton makes it clear that De Hooch offers an allusion to reality that fits in with the tradition of Dutch art theory at the time. With reference to a number of frequently quoted statements from Philips Angel’s Lof der Schilder-konst [Praise of the Art of Painting] (1642) and from Samuel van Hoogstraten’s De Hooge School der Schilderkonst [Academy of the Art of Painting] (1678), Sutton recalls that the pursuit of naturalism and illusionism was an important goal among painters. Philip Angel, for example, ‘addressed his peers as fellow “na-bootsers van ‘t leven” (imitators of life), praising the artist’s capacity for the “waerneminghe van d’eyghen natuyrlicke dinghen” (observation of the actual natural things) and painting’s ability to “seer eyghentlijk schijnen” (appear like the thing itself). Hoogstraten’s description of the illusionistic goal of painting has been quoted frequently: “Want een volmaeckte schildery is als een spiegel van de Natuer, die de dingen, die niet en zijn, doet schijnen te zijn, en op een geoorloofde vermakelijke en prijslijke wijze bedriegt” [For a perfect painting is like a mirror of Nature, which gives things that do not exist the appearance of existing, and thus deceives in an acceptable, entertaining and praiseworthy manner]’.112 Here, Sutton follows in the footsteps of many Dutch art historians. 113 For the interpretation of these deceptive images poses a problem. In order to trace the hidden meaning, Sutton turns to the work of the iconologists, in which the work of Eddy de Jongh is considered to be the most influential. 114 ‘These studies have greatly enriched our understanding of Dutch genre, which have previously been regarded as a purely descriptive, non-narrative art, but which can be elucidated by literary texts and an understanding of the associations of subjects within their historical context. Genre has been shown to have a didactic as well as visually entertaining aspect in the tradition of the classical concept of docere et delectare (to teach and delight), or, as the Dutch put it in the seventeenth century, tot leeringhe ende vermaeck’.115 According to Sutton, this interpretation – in which especially the ‘sexual’ interpretation has been widely imitated 116 – would also apply to De Hooch. His merry companions in particular show erotic connotations. It is remarkable that De Hooch often does not conceal these meanings, as in many genre paintings, but 17 rather shows them openly, for example by placing a ‘painting in a painting’. This is a well-known process for conveying specific messages on the basis of details derived from prints.117 The addition of a painting with Venus or Cupid, with Lot and his daughters, or with the abduction of Ganymede is then sufficient to be able to name the actual meaning. 118 Hollander too points to the sexual component in De Hooch’s work when she writes: ‘In analyzing flirtation and letter-writing scenes, it may be overly reductive to equate the sexuality in these images explicitly with prostitution. Nonetheless, the use of the open house motif for both subjects suggests an overlapping, even a confusion, of these two traditional aspects of femininity’.119 On the other hand, Sutton relativizes a too strict reading of De Hooch’s moral messages because the painter places the same image in dissimilar contexts. ‘While the poly-interpretability of emblematic motifs might be invoked to explain the varied applications of these same images, it seems more likely that De Hooch was in the habit of quoting convenient sources, usually prints, as piquant decorations without much concern for their symbolic implications’.120 Something similar applies to the interior space which, in Sutton’s view, is given an extra meaning. On the one hand, one can take pleasure in the deceptive illusion of the delicately elaborated, sun-drenched and heartwarming domestic interior; on the other hand, each of the paintings can give rise to moral contemplation through its depiction of virtues.121 In this way Sutton nuances his earlier standpoint from 1980, when he attributed the lack of iconographic references at De Hooch to a general cultural disinterest in the second half of the seventeenth century. De Jongh criticized Sutton on this point and suggested that De Hooch’s disinterest was rather a characterological question. 122 For Sutton, the true meaning of Hooch’s work lies in the metaphorical meaning of perspective (it creates ‘spatiality’), of the effect of light (it creates ‘brightness’) and of the color palette (it creates a ‘warm atmosphere’). Together they create an atmosphere of domestic serenity and intimacy, of tenderness and stillness, immaculately clean spaces and slow movements that place and celebrate the daily activities of mothers, children and maidservants in a harmonious, comfortable and peaceful light. 123 In the meantime Anne Hollander takes this line of thought one step further when she writes about De Hooch’s paintings: ‘Morality has thus become a matter of visual aesthetics – a very cinematic principle’.124 How true and false at the same time this bold statement is will be shown in Chapter 4. However, writers have agreed on one thing over the last few decades. They regard De Hooch’s oeuvre as the visual representation of a moral in which everything revolves around warm domesticity, the virtuous, industrious housewife and the bourgeois family life of the well-to-do middle class.125 His masterpieces invariably enchant and evoke feelings of security, stillness, clarity, serenity, sympathy and a harmonious atmosphere. 126 ‘Pieter de Hooch’, as Rosenberg 18 wrote in 1966, ‘can move us by emotional effect and beauty of his light and color, by a tender feeling which his figures radiate’.127 This also applies to writers who remark that De Hooch was actually more about the architectural setting than about the people in it. Or for authors who point out that his works reflect the patriarchal roots of Dutch civilization at that time.128 Even when one sees great similarities between De Hooch’s staging and the methods of classical Hollywood film, domesticity and intimacy are the alpha and omega of the narrative.129 Although the appreciation has shifted somewhat in recent decades, and the themes that are mentioned alternate, the core is still fixed. Most post-World War II authors continue to regard De Hooch as someone who recorded the domestic and intimate bourgeoisie. Even Anne Hollander, with her eye for the visual and cinematographic aspects of the paintings, does not escape this, as her characterization of De Hooch’s work shows. ‘In the best De Hooch paintings the theme is concentrated on the domestic affairs of women and child, wherein the fundamental lessons about the relations among things, persons, and feelings are always taught; and the lesson here is that domestic virtue may arise simply out of the true perception of order. The paintings teach that wayward personal feelings will be tempered to manageable degree, and moral weakness given no scope, if everyone is allowed the steady contemplation of clear lines and uncluttered spaces, the touch of smooth surfaces, and the steady breath of clean, moist air. They also teach that life is better when accompanied by little noise and almost no speech. Instead, the dog’s feet click on the tiles, and homemade music makes beauty from design, so that domestic harmony has its outward and audible sign. But these children never fall and scream, the dog never barks, the metal vessels never crash down or tumble together, no one jeers or whines or scolds. No one even converses much. Everything is hushed by the perfect light; imperfect and rebellious souls, unsatisfactory sexual and familial relationships are all comfortably contained in its sovereign equilibrium.’ 130 *** I am aware that the above three-part sketch of (recent) interpretations by Simon Stevin [section 1.1.1], Jacob Cats [section 1.1.2] and Pieter de Hooch [this section 1.1.3] is far from complete. A whole dissertation can easily be devoted to the reception history of Stevin’s work, and the same goes for De Hooch and Cats. The aim of my sketch was to discover how much the works of these authors are interpreted from existing (and still recognizable) ideas. For instance, Stevin’s thinking is all too often reduced to the rational pragmatism of the modern engineer, Cats is seen as the propagandist of a bourgeois-patriarchal morality, and De Hooch’s work is seen as a visually symbolic representation of domestic Dutch family life. But in fact, the work of Stevin, Cats and De Hooch is undervalued in this way. All too hastily, one steps over the often-heterogeneous composition of 19 their works, separates them from their conceptual context, or assesses them on the basis of the economic or current political-social framework. In short: they ignore the fact that these historical sources have their provenance in a different cultural and cognitive universe, a world that differs from ours in fundamental ways. My attempt to unravel the very nature of that world is not aimed at searching for and revealing the totally different. What I primarily have in mind is a historiography in which the aim is not to reduce the world of others prematurely to that which is recognizable to us. Only in this way can the dynamics in the shifting patterns become visible. Only in this way can it be clarified where (and in what form) our current culture is bound to the early modern culture and where it is cut off from it. Only in this way can the genealogy of the arts (of building, of poetry, of painting, of living well) in Western culture be written as a ‘heritage’ that exists, is passed on and can be identified, but whose form and significance (and thus cultural heritage as ‘identity’) is constantly transforming. What we see in this way is, in the words of Wendy Doniger, ‘the mechanism by which rebirth can take place despite the fact that there is no soul to transmigrate’.131 20 CHAPTER 4 PIETER DE HOOCH, SAMUEL VAN HOOGSTRATEN AND THE CHAMBER SCAPE How the visible Nature presents herself in terms of her boundaries But lest we pull Sertorius’ horsetail in vain, as we have said before, we must dissect the masterpiece of nature that is omnipresent to us, and we shall climb all the steps, without, however, allowing ourselves to be tied down too much by logical reasoning, and only deal with the distinctive particulars. In this exploration of nature, we shall look only at its visible part, for everything that is visible in nature has to serve as a subject the art of Painting and Drawing. So, it is the appearance of things, with their colors, that immediately catch the eye, of which we shall first mention the forms, or shapes, or in terms of the art words known to us, referred to as the Drawing. Of the colors we shall speak in Terpsichore, using the art-word colore, in Melpomene of light and shade, and in Calliope of the posture: but so that, although the one cannot be seen apart from the other, as in nature the form cannot be seen without color, nor the color revealed without form, together they enclose the same thing, the special properties of which we are examining, in order to learn to follow these properties through the art of painting. The particular qualities of all things then first appear to us in their forms and shapes: not as they are described by physicists, but as they alone, like the shell around the egg, determine the external shape, and separate the bodies they encompass, as if by an outer shell, from other things: as the wine enclosed in a bottle takes the form of the goblet, so the form of the bottle becomes the object of a Painter’s observation, and in this way he understands all natural things, and each in particular. The boundaries of things are length and breadth, height and depth, hollow and hump, straight and curved, oblique and crooked, and in as many ways as can be drawn from lines and points; and from which some form or other emerges. Through these lines we learn to put down on paper the natural things as they appear to us. Herein lies the power of the Art of Seeing; for the eye does not perceive things as a whole nor at the same time, but only those sides which are turned in our direction, and that ends in the determination of the outlines made by the visible ends of the rays emanating from our eyes. Samuel van Hoogstraten, Introduction to the Academy of the Art of Painting: Or the Visible World, Rotterdam 1678, Book I, Chapter 7, pp. 33-34. 21 Hoe de zichtbaere Natuer zich bepaelt vertoont. Maer op dat wy niet de vergeefs aen Sertorius paerdenstaert, als gezeyt is, trekken, zoo moeten wy dit ons overal tegenwoordige meesterwerk de natuer ontleden, en zullen by trappen gaende, zonder ons veel aen de redenkavelige regels te binden, alleen de byzonderheden onderscheydelijck verhandelen. In deze naspeuring van de natuer, hebben wy alleen haer zichtbaer deel aen te merken, want alles wat’er in de natuer zichtbaer is, moet de Schilder- en Teykenkonst ten onderwerp verstrekken. Zoo komen ons dan strax de gedaenstens der dingen, met haer verwen in ‘t oog, waer van wy de eerste zullen noemen vormen, of gestalten, of met ons gewoon konstwoorden, de Teykeninge. Van de verwe zullen wy in Terpsichore onder ons konstwoort koloreeren spreken, in Melpomene van licht en schaduwe, en in Calliope van de houdinge: doch zoo, dewijl de eene niet van d’andere afgescheyden kan worden, en de vorm, zonder verwe niet te zien is, noch geen verwe zonder vorm in de natuer zich openbaert, dat deze samen een zelve zaek begrijpen, daer van wy de byzondere eygenschappen onderzoeken, om die door de Schilderkonst te leeren nabootsen. De byzondere eygenschappen aller dingen vertoonen zich dan eerst aen ons in haer vormen en gedaentens: niet zoo alsze van de natuerkundigen beschreven worden, maer zoo alsze alleen, gelijk de schael om het ey, de uitwendige gestaltens bepalen, en de lichamen, die zy begrijpen, als door een buytenste, van andere dingen afscheyden: gelijk als de wijn, in een flesse besloten, de gedaentens des bokaels aenneemt, zoo wort de vorm van de flesse het voorwerp van ‘t geene een Schilder bespiegelt, en zoodanich begrijpt hy alle natuerlijke dingen, en yder in ‘t byzonder. De bepalingen der dingen bestaen in lengte, en breete, hoochte en diepte, holte en bult, recht en kromte, schuinte en scheefte, en op zoo veelerley manieren, als uit linien en punten kunnen getrokken worden; en eenigerhande vorm uitmaken. Door linien dan moetmen de natuerlijke dingen leeren op ‘t papier brengen, zoo alsze ons toeschijnen. Hier komt nu de Zichtkunst in haer kracht: want het ooge en bevat de dingen niet geheel noch teffens, maer alleen die zijden, die t’onswaert gekeert zijn, en zich eyndigen in bepalingen van omtrekken, gemaeckt door de zichteynden van de straelen, die uit ons’ oogen afgaen. Samuel van Hoogstraten, Inleyding tot de Hooge Schoole der Schilderkonst: Anders de Zichtbaere Werelt, Rotterdam 1678, Boek I, Hoofdstuk 7, pp. 33-34. 22 4.1. Introduction. The Arrangement of the Flat Plane When the painter Pieter de Hooch completed his last genre paintings in Amsterdam, the painter Samuel van Hoogstraten published his Inleyding tot de Hooge Schoole der Schilderkonst in Rotterdam (bp.4.1). At first sight, apart from their interest in painting and attention to perspective, both have little in common.132 De Hooch paints for a living and Van Hoogstraten, following in the footsteps of Italian art theorists such as Leon Battista Alberti (Della Pittura 1435) and Giorgio Vasari (Le vite, 1550), writes an academic paper on the rules of painting which he dedicates to anyone who wishes to learn the free art (ars liberalis) of painting.133 De Hooch practices a pre-eminently Dutch genre by painting bourgeois interior scenes. Van Hoogstraten, on the other hand, defends the academic importance of drawing and the nude, he points to the sisterhood of poetry and painting, and he underlines the usefulness of a symbolic explanation in terms of lesson and entertainment. He considers the depiction of a classical history to be the most highly appreciated genre. 134 Most of his own painterly oeuvre consists of mythological and biblical histories, trompe l’oeils with classicist architecture and various kinds of portraits.135 As Brusati recently argued, Van Hoogstraten spends much of his life working on his self-representation as a painter and theorist. The European aristocratic courts are among his most important clients (as well as the highest circles in Dordrecht).136 The contrast with Pieter de Hooch, who works for the citizens of Delft and Amsterdam, paints trivial interior scenes for them and finally dies destitute and insane in the madhouse, could hardly be greater.137 Although Pieter de Hooch (Rotterdam 1629 – Amsterdam 1684) and Samuel van Hoogstraten (Dordrecht 1627 – Dordrecht 1678) are very close in time and place, as representatives of two contrasting art historical traditions, they work in separate worlds. The art historical assumption is that, grosso modo, two different traditions coexisted in Dutch seventeenth-century painting. On the one hand the imitators of Italian art theory with in its wake the idealistic history painting that reached its ultimate climax in Italy with Michelangelo (1475-1564). On the other hand, the Dutch practice of painting which, without any noteworthy theorization, produced an enormous corpus of diverse visual genres. Many contemporary studies on Dutch Golden Age painting are therefore based on the question of how one should conceive the relationship between the two. And related to this, the question of how to appreciate the exceptionally varied collection of ‘realistic’ Dutch paintings. Despite this incompatibility, there are three arguments to confront the work of De Hooch and Van Hoogstraten in this chapter. Firstly, reading contemporary writings on the art of painting no longer seems taboo.138 In order to gain insight into the specificity of seventeenth-century visual material, one can carefully read 23 the writings on the art of painting produced and translated in Holland. Compared to the many Italian writings, the Dutch production of art theoretical texts in this period is indeed scarce, but the treatises provide sufficient substance about the way in which people generally think about the painted image in this period. 139 The study of such writings – of the questions they ask, the subjects they deal with, the terms in which they speak about the image and the contemplation or the problems they raise – can shed new light on paintings from the early modern period, including so-called genre pieces such as those by Pieter de Hooch. It should be noted with some emphasis that I do not understand the relationships between Van Hoogstraten’s utterances and De Hooch’s visual work in terms of a conscious, causal and unambiguous connection, nor in terms of a translation of ‘theory’ (the words of the theorist) into ‘practice’ (the brushstrokes of the painter) that presentday art history research is struggling with.140 I consider the connections between the two works – between texts and images – to be contextual, dynamic and multiple in nature. Moreover, the relationship between ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ in the early modern period will be of a different order, as Stevin and Cats demonstrated. ‘Hoogstraten’s treatise does not, of course, offer’, as Kees Vollemans recently wrote in another context, ‘the theory of painting, that is not how it works in theory and in painting, but there are points of convergence’.141 The second reason is that the art-historical dividing lines between both representations are less defined than is usually suggested. For example, Pieter de Hooch painted a single history painting when he was young, and Van Hoogstraten not only painted a series of ordinary interior scenes with a mother and child, but also perspective cabinets in the form of imaginary interiors (bp.4.2.1-2, bp.4.32.2, bp.4.47.2-3).142 Moreover, and more generally in early modern European painting, there is a shared pictorial pursuit in following nature, in the footsteps of classical Antiquity. From Giotto and the beginning of the ‘rediscovery of Antiquity’, the Renaissance showed a striving for ‘naturalism’. At the same time, the Flemish painters focus on the ‘conquest of the visible world’, while seventeenth-century painting is invariably described as ‘realistic’. In art history, apart from a single example of concrete demonstrable reciprocal influence, the two like-minded tendencies are rigorously dismantled.143 Due to the division into a series of defined chronological styles (such as ‘late Gothic’, ‘Mannerism’, ‘Baroque’ and ‘Classicism’), a comparative approach is excluded. For a long time, it was unthinkable in the art history of the early modern period (except in a rhetorical sense) to ask what Italian naturalism (14th-15th centuries), Flemish naturalism (15th-16th centuries) and Dutch realism (17th century) had to do with each other. Janson, for example, wrote at the beginning of the sixties: ‘In order to penetrate further beyond the realism of Gothic painting, a second revolution was needed, which started simultaneously and independently in Florence and in the Netherlands. We must therefore speak of two events which, while pursuing a common goal – the conquest of the visible world – differed in almost all other 24 respects. The revolution in Florence, and in the south in general, was more systematic and, in the long run, also more comprehensive, as it involved not only painting but also architecture and sculpture. The revolution there was called the early Renaissance. This name is not generally applied to the new style of the North. There is in fact no suitable name for this revolution in the North, because art historians do not yet agree on the extent and significance of this movement in connection with the Renaissance. The usual term “late Gothic”, which we use for reasons of efficiency, is put between quotation marks because its accuracy is doubtful to say the least. Nevertheless, the name is not entirely incorrect, as it indicates that the founders of the new direction, unlike their Italian contemporaries, did not reject the international style, but on the contrary took it as their starting point. As a result, the break with the past was less sharp in the north than in the south’.144 For a long time, comparative research was thus superfluous because it was assumed that there would be a fundamental difference between theorists and practitioners (bp.4.3.1-6). Reminiscences of this attitude can still be found in the most recent art historical handbook by Honour and Fleming (1999): ‘The Florentines were working out theories and systematic rules for the representation of three-dimensional space’ and ‘Flemish artists were not of a theorizing turn of mind’.145 In this fourth chapter I would nevertheless like to repeat the question, albeit by reformulating it. In doing so, I will not approach the paintings as exponents of existing history of style (which is itself the result of an art-historical interpretation). Nor will I settle for the usual but too simple opposition between theory (art theoretical writing) and practice (painting). Instead, I want to start from the question of how the early modern knowledge system in the field of painting is constituted and what place is given to ‘word’ and ‘image’, as well as to the writing and the painting hand. About the third, more methodological argument, I want to be brief. In the two chapters on Stevin and Cats it has become clear that a rethinking of the highquality classical heritage need not conflict with observing, describing and imagining trivial, material and everyday matters. On the contrary, both the architectural thinking of Stevin and the poetic ars bene vivendi of Cats are built on classical insights at all levels and often impregnate the most minute details. As yet another adaptation of that blended antique corpus, their conceptual systems are the raw material of Dutch culture as it began to crystallize at the end of the sixteenth century. Against this background it is justified to ask the question whether the Dutch art of painting can also be revised in this sense. Already the above excerpt from Van Hoogstraten’s Inleyding demonstrates the relevance of such an attempt. In his work he brings together the two lines that are considered contradictory within the current art-historical paradigm. This incompatibility explains why the art-historical research of the last thirty years has gone in different directions. Such a textual analysis of Van Hoogstraten’s ‘art-theoretical’ work will therefore call 25 into question the premises of current art-historical research into early modern painting.146 The aim of the Inleyding, Van Hoogstraten writes, is to take the pupils by the hand and to teach them step by step the parts of the art of painting. 147 With this, he sets out his first ‘art-theoretical’ line. To this end he divides his work into nine chapters, each chapter being led by one of the nine classical Muses. Like Jacob Cats, he thinks within the humanist tradition and revives the classical heritage. The fragment cited at the beginning also contains clear indications that Van Hoogstraten (especially through the work of Van Mander and Junius) draws from writings from antiquity.148 In order to structure the various aspects of painting, he presents three goddesses here. He introduces Terpsichore (the muse of dance and light poetry) as the mistress of Book VI on colors and their arrangement. Melpomene (the singing goddess representing tragedy) is staged as the mistress of Book VII on the contemplation of all things visible through light and shadow. And Calliope (who represents the sciences, especially philosophy and rhetoric) acts as the leader of Book VIII, which brings together the mastery of all parts of painting.149 We also find numerous references to classical writers. Van Hoogstraten quotes memorable statements by Pliny and Plutarchus, Seneca and Cato, Ovid and Virgilius. Figures from Greek mythology such as Diana, Ariadne, Agamemnon, Jupiter and Minerva, he mentions as the subject of painting or sculpture.150 He refers to Greek painters like Apelles, Phidias, Agatharchus, Zeuxis and Parrhasios.151 But references to Italian painters such as Michelangelo, Rafael, Mantegna, Tintoretto, Correggio, Veronese and Da Vinci are just as frequent. Like other authors of his time, he considered Dutch painters comparable to artists from Antiquity and the Renaissance period (‘dien grooten Raphel in ‘t Zeeschilderen!’ [that great Raphael of painting sea pieces!] Van Hoogstraten adds Porcellis for example).152 The genres Van Hoogstraten mentions are very diverse. In addition to the marine painter Porcellis, he praised Rembrandt and Rubens, the history painter Lastman, but also Van Goyen (landscapes), Knibbergen (panoramas), Van Mieris (‘genre’), Flinck (history and portrait painter), Dou (fine painter) and the ‘caravaggists’ Honthorst and Van Baburen.153 Van Hoogstraten’s motive not to speak out about painting contemporaries as a rule is to avoid mutual jealousy. 154 For painters previously working in the Netherlands he refers to Carel van Mander’s Schilder-Boeck.155 Nor does he treat the work of Italian painters in detail, because they are sufficiently described in Italian writings. 156 In short, Van Hoogstraten places his Dutch lessons on the art of painting within a broad horizon that includes not only the early modern art of the Netherlands and Italy but also has roots in Roman and Greek antiquity. The second ‘art historical’ line in Van Hoogstraten’s work points in an entirely different direction. He attaches great importance to observing Nature. As 26 a task of the art of painting he states in the aforementioned quote: the exploration and dissection of Nature, of the forms in which it reveals itself to the eye, learning to follow what is there to see and learning how to put things as they appear to us subsequently on paper. Van Hoogstraten’s example of the egg makes it clear what mastering nature is all about. The art of painting is not so much about the natural philosophical knowledge of the substance of the egg, but about knowledge of the shapes of Nature: in this case the shell that contains the egg. After all, the shape (the figure, the outer form, the drawing, the outward aspect of things and bodies) is the only thing that makes the egg visible. The shape is the actual object over which the painter lets his thoughts run. The painter does not see the wine, but he observes and contemplates the shape of the bottle or the goblet in which the wine is enclosed.157 This visible form is inseparable from the light, the shadows and the color. In this way a painter should face all things in Nature. He will try to capture all things that are part of ‘the ubiquitous masterpiece’ of Nature in their special visible qualities. Van Hoogstraten’s approach to showing the world in its visibility is based on the linkage between Nature and art already made by classical thinking, a conceptual connection that continues into the Renaissance.158 Van Hoogstraten describes the limits of things in terms of length and width, height and depth, cavity and hump, straight and curved, oblique and skewed, lines and points. He does not ask himself how the actual proportions of a thing can be visualized correctly. He assumes that the eye sees each thing only partially, namely given the that the eye emits towards the thing.159 What preoccupies him in the first place is the question of how the limited visibility of the thing can be converted onto the flat plane. The absence of concepts that are self-evident to us (such as ‘ruimte’ [space]) and his use of concepts unknown to modern spectators (such as ‘houding’ [posture], ‘welstand’ [well-balanced], ‘beweging’ [motion] or ‘troeping’ [grouping]) makes it clear that Van Hoogstraten addresses something else in his treatment of visuality. By the way, he’s not the only one using similar concepts. In early modern writings about the art of painting, related concepts are used from Alberti’s work onwards. Alberti’s famous presentation of the so called ‘geometric perspective’, in particular, shows, as will be seen below, a great deal in common with Van Hoogstraten’s aforementioned vision on the shaping and positioning of visible things on a flat plane. Given the abundance of literature, it is not possible to cover all art historical studies on Dutch painting. I shall confine myself to the observation that since the 1970s three kinds of interpretations have broadly been given. 160 They differ in the way they analyze the relations between Italian and Dutch painting, between art theory and painting practice. The art-historical debate that emerged from this continued to move between the poles mentioned, despite, or perhaps because of, these differences in interpretation.161 For an adequate insight into Van 27 Hoogstraten’s Inleyding or into the how and why of De Hooch’s ‘kamergezichten’ [chamber scapes], they do not all appear to be equally fruitful. The first approach is the iconological one.162 It has accounted for most of the recent publication flow, but its response is the least satisfactory. The iconologists opposed the 19th century statements of Thoré and Hegel, who particularly appreciated Dutch painting for its meaningless realism. 163 Iconology stressed the need to see ‘Art’ in its historical context and that images were part of a pictorial tradition from which certain topoi were derived, as well as stylistic and compositional elements. 164 The iconologists are thus trying to upgrade Dutch genre painting. They relied on the Italian model as Erwin Panofsky had described it.165 He interpreted Italian art theory as a Neoplatonist system.166 Analogous to the humanist significance of Italian history paintings, iconologists search for highminded intellectual or moral meanings in genre paintings.167 Collectively convinced of the idea that Dutch art-theoretical treatises have little to say about the meaning of genre painting, one in fact turns away from this historical source. ‘What has been written on genre painting and genre painters in the literature on Dutch art from Karel van Mander (1604) to Gerard de Lairesse (in 1707) would probably fit on two, or at most three pages and is therefore negligible’, according to De Jongh.168 On the other hand, one focuses on the ‘at face value’ transposition of learned meanings from emblematic work, such as that of Jacob Cats. 169 Analogous to early Flemish painting, and with reference to Panofsky’s studies on the disguised symbolism in early Dutch painting, iconologists finally conclude that in seventeenth-century Dutch painting the high quality (profound, moralistic or philosophical) meanings found are hidden behind the realistic appearance. 170 In addition to this upgrading of the content of the genre painting, the revaluation of the ‘realistic form’ has recently become more prominent. 171 With reference to two of Van Hoogstraten’s quotations, it is then shown that it is precisely the accurate, mirror imitation and deception of the eye that is intellectually highly regarded.172 It may happen, for example, that an author concludes his article on the problems of interpretation in Dutch genre painting with the following insignificant conclusion: ‘die einfache Nachahmung der Natur wird durch moralisches Ethos bereichert und zugleich erhebt sie sich zu einer symbolische Weltschau’ [the simple imitation of nature is enriched by a moral ethos and at the same time it rises into a symbolic view of the world].173 Since 1980, one of the most peculiar side effects of this massive attempt to elevate genre painting has been that the so called ‘Dutch classicist painting’ in general and ‘history painting’ in particular is declining in appreciation and in need of defense.174 The pursuit of rehabilitating the content and form of ‘genre art’ has blinded art historians to a number of questions. First, the question of what is actually written in early modern writings about the properties of the painted image and which terms are used. Our concept of ‘realism’, for example, does not occur. 28 Secondly, the question of whether the ‘meanings’ transposed from elsewhere (such as those of Jacob Cats) are actually so transparent. In view of the findings in the previous chapter 3 on Jacob Cats, this issue calls for caution. The iconological approach does not fall short because of her attention to all kinds of meanings of everyday attributes. She is in default because she does not relate the loose statements to the then global conceptual universe of which these statements are a part. Too easily iconology resorts to modern-sociological explanatory models, such as the civilization theory by Norbert Elias.175 The iconological interpretation ‘effectively insists on a gap between the surface and the meaning of works. Further, in those cases in which a textual meaning cannot be found, as in a recent study of The Sentry by Fabritius or some later works by De Hooch, scholars find themselves in the awkward position of claiming that powerful and accomplished pictures probably had no intended meaning’.176 The second approach is diametrically opposed to this and has fewer supporters. Rather than conforming to the Italian model, the focus is on the historical specificity of Dutch image production in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The most famous is of course Alpers’ plea from 1983. It focuses on the range of specific appearances in Dutch painting. ‘My aim is,’ she writes, to work within the framework offered by the time to understand how the Dutch in the seventeenth century produced and validated their images’.177 Earlier Emmens (1964) conducted research in this direction and more recently Melion (1991), Brusati (1995) and Vollemans (1998) made proposals to investigate the writings on the art of painting and paintings in the early modern Low Countries in positive terms that were not derived from Italian art theory. 178 ‘Attending to the northern descriptive mode challenges the deeply embedded tendency of our discipline to collapse all art-making under a general rubric provided by the viewing of Italian Renaissance art’.179 Although the poverty of Dutch art theory is equally undisputed among these authors, one is nevertheless inclined to study the Dutch texts on painting.180 In fact, Emmens was the first to open up the seventeenth-century art-theoretical heritage in a series of publications from the mid-1950s onwards. As a result, the subjects discussed in the Dutch treatises have become more prominent over the last two decades. The pictorial properties of the various categories of paintings also come more to the fore. ‘Though we might agree to lay what is frequently referred to as the “concept” of realism at the door of the nineteenth century, when the term itself was first widely employed, the beguiling visual presence, the “look” common to so many Dutch pictures is part of their birthright, which is only evaded by the current attention to emblematic meanings’.181 This is why Alpers advocates the introduction of new analytical concepts such as ‘picturing’ (beeldvorming, image making) to replace ‘painting’ or ‘image’ and ‘mode’ (modality) instead of ‘style’. Not only the process of making can then be studied, but also the knowledge it brings about and its relationship to visual culture in a 29 broad sense.182 As an extension of this, Brusati recently drew attention to the fact that Van Hoogstraten has an artistic conception in which everything from the visible world can be taken as a subject. All natural things and everything that is visible in Nature, as shown in the text fragment above, can be the subject of the art of painting and drawing. This conception of painting, also called ‘algemene wetenschap’ [general knowledge] by Van Hoogstraten, explains, according to Brusati, the fact that unlike Italian art theory, all genres in Holland are considered suitable for painting.183 This second art historical approach has led to many refreshing and fruitful insights into Dutch seventeenth-century painting, as will be shown in the following sections. In order to name the particular articulation of seventeenthcentury Dutch (describing) art, it was analytically necessary to magnify the contrast with Italian (narrative) art.184 Alpers pursued a similar comparative analysis in her research into the differences between seventeenth-century true-tonature paintings and nineteenth-century paintings of French realism185. Although the differences are immediately visible, it is less easy to put these differences clearly into words. So, in the words of Alpers, ‘The value of the distinction lies in what it can help us to see’.186 This comparative approach, which is very similar to that of Emmens’ intervention, has made a breakthrough in the current idea of arthistorical development. Meanwhile, the analytical contrast between ‘Italy’ and ‘Holland’ is losing strength. Although Alpers emphasized that the contradictions were not meant to be absolute distinctions, they have now consciously or unconsciously acquired a certain status.187 Authors speak of ‘classical’, ‘humanistic’, ‘renaissancistic’, ‘foreign’ or ‘mediterrenian’ when it comes to Italian art. On the other hand, there are terms such as ‘descriptive’, ‘northern style’ and vernacular’ (Alpers), ‘idiosyncratic’ and ‘deeply non-classical views’ (Brusati), ‘unthinkable within the Albertian paradigms’ (Honig) or also the ‘Tuscan-Roman negative’ (Emmens) which refers to the incomparability of the Dutch seventeenth-century and Italian Renaissance arts.188 Van Hoogstraten’s writing is regarded by these authors as a somewhat hybrid work, an ‘eclectic collection’ of old and new ideas, ‘associative’ rather than a ‘straightforward argument’ by a ‘moderate classicist’.189 The use of indications such as ‘transitional treatise’, ‘awkwardly and tellingly poised’ or ‘classicizing veneer’ to denote his Inleyding confirms this.190 In short, Van Hoogstraten’s classicist elements are seen as a sign of his moving back and forth between Italian art theory and an almost theory less painting practice in Holland. In essence, nothing changes the classical view of Italian painting, Renaissance theory and the modern art-historical premises that are based on it. 191 ‘These premises originate in a notion of pictorial composition formulated by the Florentine humanist Alberti in the fifteenth century, which was engaged historically by Vasari in the sixteenth century, and was translated to the German academy by the great critical historians – Burckhardt, Wölfflin, and their 30 successors, Panofsky and Gombrich – when the history of art was instituted as a university discipline at the turn of the century,’ says Melion.192 For now, this contrast lives on, even in recent historiographies of the arts. ‘Flemish, Dutch, and German artists came to pursue visual goals different from the one Italian classicists sought. The revival of antiquity was an Italian preoccupation, and the idea of it was seized on as a means to create a version of cosmic order in the world and in the mind by means of art. Panofsky and others have described the connection between the idealizing Renaissance Neoplatonism and the idea of order in Italian art – a link that contrasts sharply with the connection between Gothic Northern art and a medieval nominalist philosophy that sees fundamental meaning in discrete phenomena’.193 Some critics who have recognized the importance of this second art historical approach have also pointed this out. ‘To define Dutch art as non-Italian, the image of Dutch painting as nonclassical, non-Renaissance, the Dutch landscape, still life, or portrait as nonAlbertian, is still to refer to the Italian model, to its categorizations and to the interpretative language used in works written for that purpose’, according to Marin.194 The third art historical approach dissociates itself from this stalemate by questioning the status of untouchability that Italian art and art theory has acquired as the norm. Undoubtedly this is due to the new vistas opened by Alpers and others.195 Several authors take a more detached look at the fate of art and art theory in early modern Europe.196 What is common to their work is that the period between 1400 (when the Gothic Style became an international style in Europe) and 1700 (when the continent is largely under the spell of academic classicism) is interpreted less strongly as an exclusively Italian period. It is clear, as the National Gallery of London concludes in a recent catalogue ‘that, although most of the valuable contemporary literature on art is Italian, it is a revolution which is best understood if European art is regarded as a whole’.197 Such a wider interest resembles the more European-oriented attitude that Peter Burke already observed among historians in The Renaissance (1989) with regard to the Tuscan-Roman image that had dominated since the nineteenth century.198 One of the reasons why the new developments manifested themselves the earliest in Italy is the link that Italy always had with the Byzantine culture. 199 The arrival of Byzantine scholars in the fifteenth century contributed to a revival of Greek-antique culture.200 This more European vision says goodbye to certain art historical concepts that have become a cliché. Terms such as ‘the Renaissance’, ‘the High Renaissance’, ‘Mannerism’, or terms concerning ‘linear perspective’ in the contemporary art historical research slowly but surely lose their meaning. ‘So it has seemed best to avoid the terms altogether. An advantage of doing so when studying European art is that there is no longer any need to treat non-Italian artists of the stature of Gossaert and Holbein as if they were marginal, simply because they cannot be enrolled in this notional fraternity. We have tried to describe the 31 extraordinary achievements of the greatest Italian artists, noting what they took from each other, but without implying that they were acting in concert or as the agents of some larger force’.201 Internationally, all kinds of attempts are currently being made to carry out more comparative studies of regional art productions. Aikema and Brown (1999), for example, speak of ‘crosscurrents’ that have intertwined northern and southern cultural landscapes, have changed each other, but have also made them recognizable in their local differences.202 Berger Jr. (1998) distinguishes four modalities of painting (decorative, graphic, optical and texture) that define ‘the system of early modern painting’ and provide an explanation for the enormous range of related but differentiated European manifestations. Previously, Alpers (1976) postulated the existence of two pictorial modalities for this ‘intermediate period’. According to her, these modalities only differ because the balance between the art parts (such as ‘disegno’ and ‘colore’, between ‘narratio’ and ‘descriptio’) is different in each of them. 203 However incomparable the modalities in their appearance may seem, neither of them goes beyond the boundaries of the early modern conceptual universe. According to Alpers, this conceptual context only changed fundamentally in the nineteenth century, when not only were the art components rearranged for the umpteenth time, but these modalities were valued differently. In her view, nineteenth century ‘realism’ is just one of the modalities in which representation occurs and as such it is bound by a system of conventions, rules and codes in the same way as other genres.204 So, the European distribution of the modalities is more differentiated than usually proposed (bp.4.4). Italy also has several painting schools in which paint and color, light and shadow are more in the foreground. This applies not only to Venice (Tintoretto, Titian, Lotti, Bellini, Da Messina, Carpaccio), but also to Rome (Caravaggio), or Spain (Velázquez). 205 The struggle for power between ‘disegno’ and ‘colore’, which for a long time served as an explanation for the difference between Italian and northern art, only became a European issue of significance at the time of the French Académie, at the end of the seventeenth century.206 Until the nineteenth century, a communicating network of relations continued to exist between all these concepts. 207 This also means that observational conventions (Gombrich’s ‘beholders’ share’) in early modern times will differ from those from other historical periods or from other cultures.208 Gombrich and Baxandall distinguish the observational conventions from the universal efficacy of the perceptual system of the eye (in a strictly physiological sense), which (precisely because of its universality) cannot explain the differences that exist historically and culturally in the arts. In this, Gombrich and Baxandall also differ from the cognitive approach that study the arts from the view that there is a universal ‘human perception’, existing ‘prior to particularities of history, culture, and identity: the assumption of a threedimensional environment, the assumption that natural light falls from above, and 32 so forth. These contingent universals make possible artistic conventions which seem natural because they accord with the norms of human perception’.209 What is accepted as normal and natural in this kind of studies are in fact modern Western conventions that are culture-historically determined.210 Baxandall emphasizes that the Western emphasis on natural (convention-free) psychological perception is, in his view, inadequate in the research of the arts: ‘But if we posit cultural difference with any seriousness at all, we are likely to go beyond the Brief and postulate basic differences in cognitive and reflective disposition: it is to be supposed that both Piero [della Francesca] and his customers perceived pictures and thought about pictures differently from us, in that their culture equipped them with different visual experience and skill and different conceptual structures. What was offered to Piero en troc was a range of facilities different from those offered in Paris in 1730 or in 1910, or in London or Berkeley now’.211 Finally, the art-historical revision is supported from an entirely different angle. From the 1990s onwards, the scientific research of early modern paintings began to work more in publications. After the X-ray examination, which has been known for a long time, in which one can detect possible sketch or overpainting (pentimenti), the attention shifts to the texture of the paint and the paint stratification. Photographs of the layered paint surface (bp.4.5.1-4) take their place next to the painting from which the close-up in question originates. Unusual ‘cuts’ reduce the recognition of the seen in favor of the properties of paint and brush stroke (bp.4.53.1-3, bp.4.55, bp.4.85).212 Photographs of colorful cross-sections require their place next to the painting from which the biopsy was taken (bp.4.6.16).213 In these studies, a kind of geology of the ‘earth layers’ that make up the oil paintings is used. Van de Wetering describes in his study on Rembrandt this approach – which goes ‘right down to the canvas’ – as an archaeology: ‘Whereas in the past the painting was mainly used as a source of stylistic and iconographic features, an “archaeology” of the art work is now developing’.214 Layer by layer, the painting is excavated and disassembled into its composition. It is determined which pigment and binder a ‘paint color’ consists of (tempera, oil).215 For example, using tempera (egg-based) makes it more difficult to paint shadows. But also the degree to which oil paint mixtures are transparent (glacis, glaze) or not (opaque) compared to an underlying (colored) layer. For the ‘color impression’, that makes all the difference. Not only the thickness of the mixture can be determined (and thus the ‘spreadability’ and relief working of the paint substance itself), but also the extent to which the paint layer has been applied to a wet or already dried surface, with a coarse or fine brush. This has consequences for the painting and the way one looks at it. It determines whether the subject of a painting or the pigments are more prominent. On the one hand, this scientific analysis provides insight into ‘self-handed’ painting techniques. On the other hand, which is at least as interesting, this analysis exposes migration routes of painting techniques and variations in paint stratification across early modern 33 Europe.216 The connections suggested by Van de Wetering (‘however blasphemous’) enable him to compare the ‘visible brushstroke’ of Rembrandt (1606-1669) with that of Titian in Venice (1488/90-1576) and Velasquez (15991660) in Madrid.217 Well-known retrospective works from after the Second World War, such as those by Gombrich (The History of Art, 1950), Janson (World History of Art, 1960) and A World History of Art by Hugh Honour & John Fleming (1999), invariably refer to the different styles that coexisted during this period, as well as to the mobility of artists, paintings, prints and books between the various European regions. In the most recent handbook by Honour and Fleming, the authors have more than before chronologically inserted other cultures in between the Western European art-historical episodes, which results in a curious and not very orderly whole. Because in the end they too hold on to the ‘success story’ of Italian art as the pivot and norm of the art development.218 At the same time, many other studies have recently shifted the interest from major developments to the nuances and variations. This shift is not only noticeable in professional publications, but also in exhibition catalogues. However disparate it may be so far, it has consequences for the multiple and layered image that becomes visible. Spain and Sweden, Prague and Naples, Amsterdam and Venice are just as much ‘hot spots’ on this map as Florence and Rome.219 The well-known painting schools in Italy are now depicted in all their relationality, making the simplicity of the Vasarian genesis of art obsolete (bp.4.4).220 Moreover, the cracks and fractures these studies are causing in the art history field are generating a renewed interest in certain articles, some of which were written long before the 1970s. Articles by Meiss on the interpretation of light (1945 and 1955), by Close on classical links between art and nature (1969 and 1971), by Panofsky on perspective (1927), by Alpers on Vasari (1960), by Warburg on the fate of ancient conventions and of cosmological conceptions, magic and monsters in Italy, Flanders and Germany (1902-1920), articles by Gombrich from the fifties on stereotype and pictorial conventions (1983) and Blunt’s book on the 15th and 16th-century art of painting in Italy (1940) are again interesting. Remarkably, these studies also consider other types of artifacts such as carpets, drawing books, pamphlets, mirrors and maps.221 In addition, authors more emphatically draw long lines in which the existence of simultaneous histories is no longer experienced as an anomaly. All in all, something like comparative historiography seems to be emerging. In this new comparative mindset, it is no longer forbidden – it is even desirable! – to search for networks or patterns in which Italian Renaissance painting is interwoven with paintings in the Dutch seventeenth century. True-to-nature imagination, knowledge of nature, knowing and craftsmanship are some of the threads that led to the emergence of differentiated visual cultures in the early modern period.222 34 With all this I seem to have strayed a long way from Pieter de Hooch and his ‘kamergezicht’ [chamber scape]. Yet this detour into the debate in art history was necessary. For my purpose is to indicate the ways in which Van Hoogstraten’s treatise can be used for an analysis of De Hooch’s work. After all, it makes a lot of difference whether quotations from Van Hoogstraten are used in a cultural theoretical debate on ‘word and image’ to support a classicist vision of art, or to defend the typically Dutch naturalism of genre painting. Van Hoogstraten’s ‘hybrid’ writing (as was the case with the writings by Stevin and Cats) allows many interpretations, but these all remain partial and one-sided. In my analysis of the way De Hooch depicts the house, I will try to keep out all kinds of ‘extrinsic’ explanations as long as possible. The rise of the domestic scene in the second half of the seventeenth century and the flourishing image production with various ‘genres’ in the Golden Age in a more general sense, is often associated in the literature with the social transformation that the Netherlands underwent during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Both religious (Reformation), economic (capitalism) and social (male/female ratio, rise of the citizenship) the culture of the time underwent radical changes and a new society could emerge. Without denying the effect of social phenomena of this kind on art production, for the time being I would like to take the opposite path and ‘to consider that making [a painted representation] precedes meaning’.223 This is not only because the influence of social change in the existing literature is often investigated, but also because these changes themselves sometimes have a visual component that deserves further investigation. The beeldenstorm [iconoclasm], the rise of the emblem, the depiction of the upside-down world, witches, vrouwenlisten [Weiberlisten, the power of women], peasant fairs, strijd om de broek [the battle between the sexes], the appearance of ‘new’ visual genres (kitchen and market pieces, landscapes and seascapes, indoor scenes), the invention of perspective, the use of scientific illustrations, maps (coastal profiles, country maps, news maps, etc.) suggest that the status of the image underwent a metamorphosis in the early modern period. Due to the mobility of artists and the massive distribution of prints (first by woodcuts, later by copper engravings), it is conceivable that the early modern world view will be strongly influenced by visual codes and conventions. If so, one can say that the early modern visual material does not so much register or document the social change, but rather that the pictorial codes and conventions and thus the status of the flat surface are subject to rearrangement. Then it is conceivable that we are witnessing a shift in significance in the relationship between word and image that (at least temporarily) triggers a reshuffling in the imagination (in the literal sense of an beeldenstorm [image-storm, iconoclasm]) before the seventeenth century sees the formation of (comparatively) stable visual-discursive systems again.224 How this conceptual transformation relates to the socio-cultural developments in the different 35 European regions is analytically a new (but interesting) question that will require separate research. In this chapter 4, I want to analyze the thinking about the rules of painting in its heterogeneity, analogous to my working method with Stevin and Cats. But even more so than these two, seemingly minute phenomena are at the heart of the matter. Questions about paint and color, composition and chiaroscuro, woman and man, window and house in a painting by De Hooch touch the foundations of the art-historical profession. Seen from that perspective, the subject I will address here is extensive and provides material for many detailed studies. Certainly, in this case I want to address the comprehensive issue per ‘formulation layer’.225 As Van Hoogstraten notes in the opening fragment in reference to Sertorius anecdote about the ponytail, even the strongest horse is subdued if the tail is pulled out with patience hair by hair: Sertorius, als hy de oude Lusitaenen beduiden wilde, dat de macht der Romeinen, hoe groot zy ook was, door een mindere macht was uit te roeijen, liet twee Paerden brengen: het eene was kloeck en sterk, het andere mageer en teer; aen ‘t magere paert stelde hy een jong sterk man, en aen ‘t ander een ongevalligen ouden; bevelende elk van hen den staert van ‘t paert, daer hy aen gestelt was, uit te trekken. Hier op begon den sterken jongeling den staert van ‘t zwakke paert te vatten, te trekken, zoo lang tot hy moe was; niet meer te weeg brengende, dan dat hy, zijn kracht te vergeefs gespilt hebbende, van al d’omstanders wiert uitgelachen. Maer den ouden man trok op zijn gemak den geheelen staert van ‘t sterke paert uit, nemende maer weinich hairtjens teffens, en zoo veel tijts als hem van nooden was. 226 [Quintus Sertorius [a Roman general, 123 – 72 BC] when he wanted to make it clear to the old Lusitanians [inhabitants of the ancient Iberian Roman province] that the power of the Romans, however great it was, could be wiped out by a lesser power, had two horses brought, one that was big and strong, the other skinny and frail; to the skinny horse he put a young, strong man, and to the other a frail old man; whereupon he ordered each of them to pull the tail of the horse in question. Upon this the strong young man began to grasp the tail of the weak horse, to pull it, just as long until he was tired; which had not brought about more than that he had wasted his strength in vain and was laughed at by the bystanders. But the old man, at his leisure, pulled out the whole tail of the strong horse, taking but few hairs at a time, and as much time as he needed to do so]. By making the imagination of the house central to De Hooch’s work, the analysis of the house remains within certain limits. By analyzing the writing of Van Hoogstraten (and some other early modern authors) as a conceptual framework in which De Hooch’s paintings are embedded, the analysis can then be further focused on the image itself.227 Within the framework of the current project, 36 however, a detailed analysis of early modern writings on the art of painting is not the primary goal. This fourth Chapter is again divided into two parts. In the first part I will take the paintings of Pieter de Hooch as a flat plane. In doing so, I concentrate on a few levels that contribute to the fact that his paintings can ultimately be seen as imagination of a ‘house’. In section 4.1.1. (‘The Translucency of the Chamber Scape’) I will discuss plane division in paintings by De Hooch in relation to what early modern writings describe on the same subject. In the next section (4.1.2.) the emphasis is on the use of light and shadow. Not only in De Hooch’s paintings, but also in Van Hoogstraten’s argumentation, this is discussed mainly in terms of the entry of light into the house. (‘The Study of the Enclosed Chamber Lights’). Then, in 4.1.3., colors come into play and the way they are dissected by the painter in order to then arrange them (‘The Art of Suitable Color Matching’). In conclusion, the question of what status ‘Bodies’ actually have in the painting will be addressed in (4.1.4.). The second part again concerns the broader field in which De Hooch’s work can be situated. It’s about the visual order of the early modern era. There are three ways to address this issue. In 4.2.1. (‘The Art of Painting as Work’) I will return to some of the issues raised in this introduction in thinking about painting from the 15th century onwards (such as the status of ‘history’ painting, the mastery of a painter and the nude). In 4.2.2. (‘Pictorial Archive and the Chamber Scape as Sediment’) I will sketch some long lines from the genealogy of the imagined house. A connection is often made between Van Eyck’s intimate interiors (bp.4.92) and the appearance of the Dutch ‘binnenhuis’ [interior] genre around 1650. One often forgets that there are about 250 years between these two moments. It is precisely during this period that the image in early modern European culture undergoes a shift. In 4.2.3 (‘The Moving Painting and the Craving Eye’) the passions involved in the image are discussed. Finally, in the last section, 4.2.4. (‘From the Art of Painting to the Theory of Art’), I will discuss the changes in the status and significance of the visual presentation. The elevation of painting, from craft to ars liberalis, as pursued by Alberti, Van Mander, and Van Hoogstraten, is not so much a shift from low to high culture as is often thought. It is the understanding of the lure of images as well as of their observational power that brings about a shift from magic to scientific knowledge.228 37 4.1.1. The Translucency of the Chamber Scape The work by Pieter de Hooch is often praised for his realistic and rationalist representation of three-dimensional space (bp.4.7 - bp.4.26).229 In addition to that of Johannes Vermeer, Samuel van Hoogstraten and Pieter Saenredam, his work is regarded as one of the school examples in which the perspective is applied in a scientifically correct manner. In The Science of Art (1990) Martin Kemp notes: For the moment Pieter de Hooch will serve to exemplify Dutch painting of domestic interiors at the highest level. Whenever he wished to describe one of his typically enticing series of intimate glimpses through a succession of domestic spaces, he almost invariably used canonical perspective in foreground to establish the pace of the recession. This even applies to exterior pavements composed from rougher tiles or bricks of varied size. Equally characteristically, the constructional geometry is endowed with a kind of homely irregularity – perhaps we should call it a sense of humanity – through the use of differently orientated patterns in the secondary spaces, and not uncommonly by the portrayal of tiles of different size and shape from those in the foreground. To this is added the optical variety of broken patches of illumination, both direct and reflected, together with the sheen of polished floors, which not infrequently masks the linear pattern as light glances from surfaces at a low angle in the deeper portions of the space. Perspective is thus exploited with a control which would win the respect of an Alberti, but it is subtly subverted by other ocular effects in a way which would have unsettled the Italian’s sense of geometrical integrity.230 There exists by now a very extensive scientific literature on the geometric perspective. Its vital importance in the history of Western culture is widely acknowledged. It has become a natural phenomenon in related fields, such as film theory.231 But more generally, perspective circulates as a metaphor and as a platitude in the (post)modern world view. 232 I would like to mention four characteristics that are usually attributed to perspective and that directly touch on the way in which early modern (but also modern) paintings are interpreted nowadays. First of all, the perspective is seen as an invention that makes its entrance ‘mit erstaunlicher Plötzlichkeit’ [with astonishing abruptness]: it marks the beginning of the Renaissance in Western culture.233 Sudden and unexpected, revolutionary and stormy, dramatic and groundbreaking are the terms with which modern authors describe the appearance of perspective.234 A scholar of the history of perspective, Edgerton, writes in 1991: ‘Though historians of science are in dispute as to whether the term revolution is appropriate to what occurred in their subject after 1600, historians of art all agree that revolution in every charged sense of its meaning is the only word to describe the dramatic changes that took place in painting, sculpture, and architecture first in Italy, then in the rest of western 38 Europe after 1300’.235 Although the spatial representation is already beginning to change in the frescoes by Giotto (1266-1337), and while the Florentine architect Filippo Brunelleschi (1377-1446) is regarded as its inventor,236 the linear or central perspective is usually associated with Della Pittura by Leon Battista Alberti.237 In his writings on painting, he was the first to lay down the geometric rules of perspective. ‘Suddenly, three-dimensional space could be realistically drawn on a two-dimensional surface – and representational art was changed forever’.238 Secondly, this ‘albertian’ perspective is seen as a scientific technique to measure and represent real space using a rational method, in combination with ‘light, color, atmosphere and optical aids’.239 It is true that the geometric method was borrowed from Euclid’s Optics, but in the early modern period there was a ‘spirit of empirical observation’ which led to an interest in optical issues in all kinds of fields of science and in art. 240 Renaissance painting therefore coincides with Alberti’s presentation of the geometric pattern. Alpers (1983) also maintains this equality (although she does so primarily to emphasize the difference with Dutch painting).241 The ‘discovery’ of perspective as a scientific procedure therefore counts as a breakthrough in the history of perception: from that moment on an entirely new, because objective view is possible. The perspectival painting is literally seen as a (open) ‘window’ (Alberti) that offers a view on a second, truthful space behind it.242 This implies that ‘faithfulness to nature’ (as in photography or film) is seen as something completely trivial and that photography can be used by art historians to determine the ‘realistic’ quality of an early modern painting.243 The third point is related to that. The scientific nature of the perspectival method implies its universal truth. In the words of Zwijnenberg (1999), it is a mode of representation that holds ‘a certain universal and historical validity’. In fact, in the Renaissance one would have discovered the law of nature according to which we all look. ‘The theory of linear perspective is in many respects a description of the way in which we perceive things, and it is certainly true that its technique can be learned and used by anybody, regardless of one’s cultural background, or concept of space or of the world in general’.244 Although the technique of converting three-dimensional reality into two-dimensionality is seen as a culturally bound phenomenon, as a phenomenon it harbors a universal truth in all its simplicity and systematics. One considers the effect as a truthful and credible illusion of space as we (humans) know it in reality.245 Finally, the fourth point concerns the philosophical conclusion one draws from this. In art history, this interpretation has led to an emphasis on the viewer in front of the painting and on the reality behind the painting. Alberti’s painting, as Alpers also writes, starts ‘with a viewer who is actively looking out at certain objects – preferably human figures – in space, whose appearance is a function of their distance from the viewer’.246 More in general, it is noteworthy how, from 39 World War II onwards, authors have taken advantage of the Renaissance perspective and early modern paintings to posit a turn in human consciousness. 247 It is claimed that a new, rational, self-aware, reflexive, individual human being is appearing on the European stage. 248 One sees this new, privileged view on the surrounding nature, with man as the central subject in a clearly constructed space, perfectly illustrated in both images and words. On the one hand, in Albrecht Dürer’s prints (where a draughtsman captures nature, in this case a female nude, in his grid, bp.4.27.1).249 On the other hand, in the philosophical views by René Descartes (where the philosopher conceives of man as a rationalistic, consciously thinking mind).250 As an image and metaphor of the era of individualism, rationalism and scientific control of space and subjugation of nature and the human body, the Renaissance still has a certain popularity due to the phenomenon of the geometric perspective. 251 ‘We are left wondering’, Alpers writes, ‘why the myth of Renaissance rationality and ordering has been so necessary for people in our time. What will the results be if we now let it go?’.252 The question formulated by Alpers is relevant now that several studies have recently appeared in which the Renaissance perspective as a paradoxical phenomenon has been re-examined. In these studies, the common view of the linear perspective as a unique rationalist system that responds to a natural and universal fact is flipped upside down. I will mention four points that are important to appreciate the historicity of the perception of perspective before commenting on De Hooch’s paintings. First, the value attached to linear perspective is relatively recent (as is also true in case of the Golden Ratio, as we saw in Chapter 2). Kim Veltman (1996) pointed out that the number of publications on the Renaissance perspective was booming in the nineteenth century and also in the twentieth century (despite the abstract art that broke with the ‘Renaissance conception of space’) many times higher than in the early modern period itself. ‘As a result, a significant drop in the publications on perspective from 1914 to 1945 (during and between the two great wars), the number of books on perspective has risen steadily ever since. Indeed, more books have been published on the subject in this century than during the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries combined’ (bp.4.27.2).253 The renaissance of perspective in the second half of the twentieth century is, in his view, related to technological developments based on measurable raster images and electronically constructed vector images and computer graphics. 254 In other words, all the possibilities of the Renaissance perspective can only be realized today. In all kinds of forms of modern art (video art, virtual reality, simulations), but also in scientific research. ‘A construction that would have taken days to do manually is now performed almost instantaneously with software and hardware: a globe is transformed to a flat map of the earth which, in turn, becomes a threedimensional landscape. As a result operations that would once have required the 40 hand of a master artist can now be executed in a few simple steps by anyone in a matter of minutes’.255 Hubert Damisch (1995) confirms the contemporary interest in perspective. On the one hand, he points to the continued impact of Panofsky’s publication ‘Die Perspektive als symbolische Form’ from (1927), evidenced by a reprint (1964) and an English translation (1991, ‘Perspective as Symbolic Form’).256 On the other hand, the rise of film and photography research in the 1960s and 1970s not only reinforced the incorporation of the perspective metaphor, but also its interpretation as an ideological device. ‘Basing their argument (...) on the fact that the photographic box, and the camera which is its technical extension, function optically in a way wholly consistent with so-called one-point perspective (to such an extent that Delacroix could envision using photography as a means of producing the perspectival framework for his painting), some maintained that photography and film disseminate spontaneously, and so to speak mechanically, bourgeois ideology (because perspective, having appeared at the dawn of the capitalist era, must of necessity be essentially “bourgeois”)...’.257 Finally, I would like to mention only two points of Elkins study (1994) that are important for the following. Like the aforementioned authors, he points to ‘the appearance of perspective like schemata in humanist theory (principally phenomenology, literary criticism, psychoanalysis, and film theory)’.258 This modern use of an isomorphic space as a conceptual pattern should, according to him, be viewed with a certain amount of suspicion. 259 This applies not least to current art-historical practice in which the underlying geometric line pattern of early modern paintings is reconstructed by drawing the invisible secret grids (bp.4.28, bp.4.29) on a (often reduced) reproduction as precisely as possible (i.e. with ruler and compass).260 The errors and inconsistencies thus discovered in early modern paintings are regarded as deviations from the ideal scheme, as artistic inaccuracies or as proof that an artist has not yet mastered perspective. 261 Elkins points to at least two false assumptions in this analytical operation. First of all, perspective techniques are used that are modern and have a degree of accuracy that is incomparable to that of the early modern period. The use of the computer has become more and more normal.262 The analyses are technically more ‘correct’ than the early modern techniques could ever be, with the consequence that one discovers ‘rational’ connections (for example between different paintings) that only derive their certainty from those modern techniques.263 Like Veltman, Elkins points out that the modern analyst, armed with this technically advanced knowledge, then consults the early modern treatises only on relevant passages, ignoring the structure of a treatise as a whole. In this way, one ‘proves’ through selective reading of early modern texts the measurable accuracy or demonstrable inconsistencies of early modern paintings.264 Such an approach overlooks the fact that early modern treatises devoted to perspective also deal with all sorts of ‘irrelevant’ matters that do not necessarily fit into our idea of exactitude and 41 rationality.265 Furthermore, one fails to take account of the fact that in the early modern period perspective was not an analytical instrument, but one of the means of making a painting. The reversal of the procedure is therefore not without consequences.266 The second point is connected to this. According to Elkins, one should not see the perspective as a rationalization of the gaze that suddenly occurs in the early modern era, nor as a magnificent scientific objective invention to map the world. Judging from the treatises at the time, Elkins concludes that perspective should be regarded as a certain drawing method for arranging objects on the flat plane. The perspective as Renaissance authors imagined it ‘was more a collection of rational methods than a “rationalization of sight”, more a way of drawing objects than of setting them in an abstract “pictorial space”’.267 Moreover, there appear to be not one, but at least twenty different perspectival techniques in circulation in the early modern period. 268 The Euclidean pattern of lines resumed in the early modern perspective did not suddenly appear. It formed a fixed but limited part of the broad field of optics, an area of research that primarily concerned the properties of light and later the physiological functioning of the eye.269 This is confirmed in Alberti’s writing, which is less clear-cut than is often thought.270 Moreover, the drawing method was not intended to create a paintingwide grid. Our idea that the Renaissance perspective is the key to producing a fictional space and depth and that it would be our task as a scientist to make that visible is therefore anachronistic, according to Elkins and Damisch. 271 ‘The question for historical analysis is how to relate the unavoidable violence of making things visible to the possibility that the painting may work by keeping those things out of sight. Modern analyses tend to overlook this kind of question by bringing out the lines and letting the reader judge their persuasiveness’.272 Questioning these self-evident notions raises the question of which concepts the authors used in the early modern period when they wrote about the art of painting, about ‘doorzichtkunde’ [the art of seeing through] or ‘natuurgetrouwheid’ [true to nature]. As Kristeller (1961) and Close (1969/1971) have already argued, true to nature has been a much-discussed topic since antiquity and remains so until the early modern period. Thinking about following nature and imitation is mainly guided by classical commonplaces in which Nature and the arts are linked. Close successively mentions: 1) Art imitates Nature; 2) Art helps, completes or perfects Nature; 3) Art is based on the experience or the study of Nature; 4) Art and Nature are linked by a learning system; 5) Art makes use of the matter of Nature; 6) Art has its origin in Nature; 7) Art is subordinate to Nature and 8) Nature is an artist. 273 These ancient commonplaces thus form a ‘multiple web of connections and analogies’ in which the interpretations of various philosophers (such as Plato or Aristotle) then take their place. 274 The art of painting, conceived in the classical sense as a knowledge system consisting of rules and conventions with a productive purpose, plays a special role here. 275 42 Against this background, which clearly resembles issues raised by Stevin, I would like to proceed to an image analysis of De Hooch’s paintings. Rather than taking De Hooch’s ‘true-to-nature’ paintings as a starting point for a description of the historical-social reality he would depict, in the image analyses below I want to examine which rules and conventions De Hooch uses to follow nature in his painted tableaus. Art history has always attached great importance to perspective or ‘doorzichtkunde’ [seeing-through].276 However, in early modern writings the treatment often occupies only a modest place. Van Mander concludes his Grondt (1604) with the announcement that he wanted to write about it. 277 Vredeman de Vries, in 1604, describes Perspective as ‘een inschynende oft deursiende ghesichte der oogen, op papier, doeck, penneel, oft mueren, int schilderen met coleuren oft andersins bethoont’ [a light shedding or seeing-through looking by the eyes, on paper, canvas, panel or walls, when painting with colors or as it otherwise shows].278 Angel spends only one paragraph in the second part of his Lof der Schilder-konst [Praise of the Art of Painting] (1642) and De Grebber (1649) the first of his eleven lines.279 In 1668, Goeree mentions the ‘Perspective ofte Doorsichtkunde’ [Perspective or the Art of Seeing-through] as one of the most useful things to learn in the art of drawing and painting.280 Van Hoogstraten (1678) only writes about this knowledge for the painter towards the end of his treatise (Book 7.7).281 But like most other authors, he also refers to specialized mathematical treatises. 282 Van Hoogstraten talks about doorzichtkunde [the art of seeing-through] in the more encompassing framework of the optical knowledge that a good painter should possess.283 The painter must know what the eye is capable of when it observes the visible world. After all, to the untrained eye everything presents itself as a coherent whole.284 Insight into ‘de macht van het zien’ [the power of seeing] is indispensable. A painter ‘diens werk het is, al wat in ‘t zien bestaet wel te onderscheyden’ [whose work it is, to be able to distinguish well all that exists in seeing] and ‘het gezigt te bedriegen’ [to entice the seeing], should have a thorough knowledge of the nature of all things.285 The art of seeing-through refers in particular to determining the distances between things in a painting according to certain rules.286 Although their insights touch each other, there is an important difference between the way in which the painter and the mathematician deal with optical knowledge. For the first, knowledge of the art of seeing-through is one of the many tools to make a good painting. That also explains why, according to early modern authors such as Alberti, a painter does not have to be an accomplished mathematician to paint well. 287 ‘Perspective practice’, concludes Elkins, ‘is imagined less as an import from geometry into painting than as a kind of picture making, akin to painting’.288 The mathematician, on the other hand, wants to 43 determine the mathematical rules on which seeing is based and wants to understand how the ‘image of things’ obtained relates to the things that have been seen. ‘The most basic and indispensable perspective constructions are problems in the classical sense, what Euclid distinguished from propositions in the Elements: that is, they are practical difficulties to be mastered, things that need to be learned and then put to use’.289 In that sense, as Van Eck and Zwijnenberg have emphasized, Alberti’s notion of ‘window’ should not be taken literally either, ‘as if a painting is a window in a wall that offers us a view of a reality that we could possibly enter ourselves. This remark is metaphorical in nature, intended as a tool for those who find it difficult to follow Alberti’s arguments. It gives more clarity to the text but does not help to better understand the transition from optics to construction’.290 Alberti does not use the term ‘space’. Alberti’s primary concern is to locate objects on a flat plane, based on the distances between them. ‘Nowhere does Alberti’s text show that he possesses a concept of mathematical space or of unified space’.291 Comparing the above with Stevin’s view in his treatise Vande Deursichtighe [On Seeing-Through, including ‘per-spectere’ as well as ‘optics’] (1605-8), he too appears to underline the difference between painters and mathematicians. This was in response to Prince Maurits who wanted to improve his drawings of fortifications and (wrongly so according to Stevin) was apprenticed to several painters.292 The painter seeks knowledge of the art of painting in order to make a painting of landscapes, with towns, streams and roads. The mathematician, on the other hand, seeks knowledge of the causes in order to be able to make a complete drawing of the case under consideration. ‘Verschaeuvving’ Stevin writes, referring to Vitruvius’ ‘third drawing type’, ‘is der verheven dingen plat namaeksel verheven schijnende’ [Scenography is the flat artefact in which straight up things are so followed as to appear straight up]. 293 The study of the working of the eye in the distance, the changes that occur in wat is seen (‘het gezicht’ [the sight]) by varying the depth or by varying the matter through which one looks (such as air, water, moist air, fire, curved glass and the like): these are subjects that according to Stevin should be dealt with in the field of the art of seeing-through.294 Physical abnormalities of the eye (such as squinting or when pushed against the eye) can also be the cause of a deformation in the sight seen.295 Stevin is interested in those causes and in the mathematical proof that seeing an unchanging thing can evoke such diverse observations. But painters, Alberti and Van Hoogstraten write, have a different goal. They use optical knowledge when painting and composing flat planes.296 To this end, a painter must have two types of knowledge. In the first place he has to get to know the natural objects on the basis of their visible properties. He can obtain this knowledge by comparing things. Alberti explains this comparative visual knowledge as follows: 44 All knowledge of large, small; long, short; high, low; broad, narrow; clear, dark; light and shadow and every similar attribute is obtained by comparison. (...) Thus all things are known by comparison, for comparison contains within itself a power which immediately demonstrates in objects which is more, less, or equal. From which it is said that a thing is large when it is greater than something small and largest when it is greater than something large; bright when it is brighter than shadow, brilliant when it is brighter than something bright. This is best done with well-known things.297 On the basis of this visual knowledge of the relative properties of things (such as size, light and color attributes) the painter can then paint things. Secondly, the painter needs to know how to place the painted things on a flat plane.298 This is the ‘painterly problem of “figures and their places”’.299 In early modern times this problem is posed in terms of ‘distance’ between the painted objects, bodies or things. In the words, for example, of Alberti who writes: ‘[We would call] it a weakness if in the same distance one person should appear larger than another, or if dogs should be equal to horses, or better, as I frequently see, if a man is placed in a building as in a closed casket where there is scarcely room to sit down’.300 For example, Goeree speaks of ‘wijttte and Distantie’ [breadth and Distance].301 There are roughly two ways of locating things on the flat plane. The use of an ‘instrument’ can be helpful in determining the place and shape of things. Alberti, as well as Dürer, Van Mander and Stevin deal with such an instrument. 302 Most famous are Alberti’s velum (finely woven fabric) and Dürer’s various perspective grids. 303 Stevin, too, discusses the advantages of ‘deurluchtighe stoffen’ [permeable fabrics] in painting and for Prince Maurits he made a special ‘glas’ (bp.5.9.24).304 The attention of early modern writers is primarily focused on the translucent qualities of the material that make the things it captures appear painted. 305 Secondly, instead of such a tool, one can also use geometrical rules to give the things under observation their proper place on the flat plane.306 With just a handful of imaginary lines, a plane distribution can be obtained that automatically and reliably regulates the distances. 307 The shape of objects is determined by their position in this line pattern. Or as Van Hoogstraten describes in the art of seeingthrough: ‘Door linien moetmen de natuerlijke dingen leeren op ‘t papier brengen, zoo alsze ons toeschijnen’ [By lines one must learn to bring natural things onto the paper, as they appear to us].308 Most famous is Alberti’s drawing method. In an explanation of several pages, he discusses how a pavement of orthogonals and transversals can be constructed in the plane. 309 In the Netherlands it is not so much the work by Stevin as that of his contemporary, Vredeman de Vries (Perspective, 1604) that offers examples of this drawing method (bp.4.30.1).310 The horizon line separates heaven and earth, the baseline is the lower line of the plane, in between there is a parallel line (bp.4.30.2). Plumb to these three are the ‘perpendiculi’, while the ‘diagonali’ (as the fifth kind of line) rise from 45 points on the horizon.311 Biens, who refers to Vredeman de Vries in his little treatise on drawing from 1636, includes a sixth line: the ‘oculari’ that sprout from the point of the eye of the horizon. In short, this is the art ‘van ‘t verschiet’ [of fading away], an art that makes that ‘in ‘t stellen van ‘t landschap niet in ‘t wildt en scherme maer sijne saecken met reden weet te planten’ [in setting the landscape does not go wild but knows how to plant his things with reason].312. Determining a horizon, a fading point, and possibly some flight points can support the painter's ability to place things correctly on the canvas 313 By placing the horizon, lines are formed that make one look at a thing ‘van boven af’ [from above], while other lines make one look at it from ‘onderaf’ [from beneath] or ‘tegenaan’ [toward]. (bp.4.31.1-3).314 The plane division acts as a scale in which the objects are arranged according to size. The higher on the plane, the more objects reduce in magnitude and size. It indicates how ‘nae-bye oft verre’ [near or afar] a body ‘sich komt te vertoonen’ [comes to show itself] writes Biens.315 In this way, the fading lines anchor everyday things on the same common underlying pattern of lines.316 The effect of this ordering technique is that the shape changes of painted things are always indicated in terms of the interval between painted things on the flat plane. Early modern authors use terms such as ‘inkrimpen’ [shrink], ‘wegwijken’ [moving away], ‘verkorten’ [shortening], ‘vermeerderen’ [increasing], ‘vergroten’ [enlarging], ‘wijdstrekken’ [widening], ‘verminderen’ [decreasing], ‘vernauwen’ [narrowing], ‘verschieten’ [fading], ‘verkleinen’ [scaling down] and the like.317 With the help of geometric rules, no ‘systematic space’ in the modern sense is constructed, but a regulated arrangement of the intervals in between things in the ancient sense. It is not so much about ‘space’, according to Van Eck and Zwijnenberg, but about ‘distance’, ‘void’ or ‘interspacing’.318 Van den Akker too is of the opinion that ‘such help lines or tiled floors acted as a method to determine the place and size of the houses, trees and animals’.319 The early modern application of ‘perspective’ possesses two peculiarities that underline the primacy of the canvas as a flat plane. Firstly, the rejuvenating system of lines is often only partially used in a painting. Secondly, a parallel line system often divides a portion of the canvas into large areas in such a way that they can be ‘opened’ to generate forms that can serve ‘as architecture’. The work of Pieter de Hooch is characterized by a varied treatment of both conventions, resulting in an oeuvre that is both recognizable and differentiated. Elkins, Stumpel and Van den Akker point out that this ‘perspective’ is often only applied locally in a painting that is otherwise not ‘spatially’ pronounced. ‘The checkerboard pattern was initially not yet used for a piano, let alone as part of an overall system of composition’.320 In the early modern period these ‘perspective parts’ were regarded as special pieces of art that were praised separately. Certain quotes from Vasari show that the perspective ‘tended to be isolated showpieces rather than coherent spaces’. An example is Masaccio’s 46 Trinità where the fading only applies to the ‘ceiling’.321 ‘For Vasari, good paintings could be “full of perspectives”’, which, according to Elkins, underlines once again that the early modern approach to perspective was not primarily based on one systematic, homogeneous idea of space.322 ‘Quite often, indeed, we encounter floors in Renaissance painting that seem to be inserted with hardly any respect for the rigidness of a logical over all perspective, and such compositions give striking proof of the autonomy that subdisciplines could maintain in Quattrocento pictorial practice’.323 By the way, Stumpel observes that the ‘chessboard floor’ has been in use in Italian fresco paintings since the middle of the fourteenth century (as was the case with the Lorenzetti brothers) and that from that time on they have often been included as independent planes in a painting. At the same time, such floors, particularly in France, are found in miniatures and book illuminations.324 According to Stumpel, Alberti’s ‘discovery’ is the result of a tradition that has been around for at least a century. 325 Sutton emphasized that De Hooch in his paintings applies the conventional method of placing orthogonals on the flat plane. The line pattern can be obtained by simply puncturing a hole in the painting and stretching a chalked wire from there, as did his contemporary and fellow townsman Vermeer. 326 The result is a number of orthogonals that converge on a central fading (or vanishing) point and where the horizon is given (bp.4.29.2-3).327 According to Sutton this was a simple method of arranging the space in the painting by establishing ‘orthogonals and the patterns of their tiled floors without making complicated measurements and calculations’. By adjusting the flight points it was possible to control ‘depth’ and ‘rejuvenation’.328 Remarkably, however, De Hooch does not use this pattern of lines in the upper part of his painting to depict a ceiling. In antique murals, on the other hand, such patterns can be found foremost as ceilings and not to depict a floor.329 In early modern paintings, such a ‘verbeelding van onderen’ [imagination from below] is common in subjects such as ‘aanbidding’ [worship] (bp.4.95.4, 7 and 10) or ‘triomf’ [triumph] (bp.4.32.1), sometimes also in annunciations (bp.4.94.2, 7,13). It is also remarkable that the fading away, narrowing and rejuvenating planes in De Hooch that take the form of a chequered tile pattern in the lower part of the painting regularly consist of combinations of planes with deviating line grids. So, in these paintings, different line patterns stand next to or above each other.330 In his paintings, the different chambers are ruled by different types of perspective: in fact, in the tiled floors on the front and back plan ‘depth’ is working in a different way. (bp.4.10.3, bp.4.17.3, bp.4.18.2, bp.4.23.2-3, bp.4.25, bp.4.26). Instead of a homogeneous spatial structure, his paintings show a patchwork of flat planes or a mosaic of individual fields, each consisting of its own network of lines. Earlier, Janson made a similar observation based on paintings by Johannes Vermeer. Be it that he considered Vermeer’s plane division as a deviation (in terms of ‘uniqueness’, ‘modernity’, ‘genius’, ‘exceptionality’) from normal seventeenth-century painting: ‘But in contrast to his predecessors, 47 Vermeer sees reality as a mosaic of colored planes – or perhaps it is more accurate to say that he recreates reality into a mosaic and thus brings it to the canvas. We can see The Letter as a perspective “window”, but also as a plane, a “field”, composed of smaller fields. Rectangles dominate, and follow the line of the pictorial plane, and there are no “holes”: no undefined blank spaces’.331 It turns out in the case of De Hooch that repeating this pattern does not always lead to identical tile floors. Precisely by using a few basic forms, De Hooch appears to be able to generate a large variation. A few points stand out on his arrangement of the flat plane. For the majority of the compositions the ‘horizon’ appears to be situated slightly above the center of the work.332 Only in a few cases is it underneath. The position of the horizon is connected to the eye level of the characters included in the picture plane.333 Most of the ‘tile patterns’ in De Hooch’s paintings can be easily distinguished on the basis of shape, size and color.334 Only a small collection of paintings withdraws this pattern. In these cases, the primacy appears to be in supporting a line of sight (bp.4.17.1, bp.4.24.1, bp.4.26.2). In secondary literature there is the impression that De Hooch (and other seventeenth-century painters) for the most part depict black-and-white tiled floors.335 Although this is true for about half of De Hooch’s paintings, the other half consists of ‘floor patterns’ of other materials. There are timber floors (bp.4.9.3, bp.4.10.1), tiles of (almost) uniform color (bp.4.15.1, bp.4.18.1, 3, bp.4.23.2-3), earth floors (bp.4.8.1-2) and various variations of ‘clinker paving’ (indoors, bp.4.7.2, but especially outdoors, bp.4.14, bp.4.21). Sometimes he paints an earthen surface (bp.4.22.1), with a grass lawn (bp.4.14.2, bp.4.20) or combinations of floor coverings (bp.4.22.2, bp.4.23.1). On closer inspection, even De Hooch’s ‘black-and-white’ block pattern appears to vary widely. He achieves this in different ways. The line grid (and this applies to all types of ‘floors’) can be either parallel or square to the picture plane (e.g. bp.4.7.2, bp.4.9.1-3, bp.4.10.1-2, bp.4.12, 1-3, bp.4.16.1, bp.4.17, bp.4.18.12) or diagonal (e.g. bp.4.10.3-4, bp.4.11.3, bp.4.13.2 and 4, bp.4.15.2, bp.4.18.3, bp.4.19.3-4). In addition, the complexity of the grids changes. This is possible because a grid of different formats is used. The size of the ‘tile planes’ may vary (bp.4.10.2-4, bp.4.12.1, bp.4.13.2 and 4), the grid may consist of an alternation of wide and narrow strips (bp.4.12.2-3, bp.4.25.2).336 Finally, the color of the tiles may change if the pattern remains the same (bp.4.10.2 and 4). Thus, De Hooch’s tile floors are based on a limited number of ground patterns, which change shape and generate series via the above-mentioned rules. Grids can be enlarged and made smaller or appear in ‘negative’, that ‘at first glance’ results in a completely new, but familiar floor. What De Hooch’s paintings demonstrate here is how cultural variation is generated: with a minimum of elements and a few transformation rules, maximum variety can be achieved. In the end, De Hooch’s series of paintings can be brought back to three basic forms.337 In other words, Hooch’s paintings are the result of pictorial conventions on which he varies; they 48 are conventional combinations, not representations of actual seventeenth-century interior variations, nor three-dimensional spaces that could be built in reality. When historians label these paintings as the painter’s fantasy, they only confirm the somewhat meagre conception of reality that they use.338 When technicians prove the impossibility of De Hooch’s represented spaces, they only confirm the all-too-obvious obsession with precise measurability from which they themselves think (bp.4.29.1).339 In addition to this local application of rejuvenating grids, De Hooch’s paintings are known for another effect: the so-called ‘doorkijkjes’ [vistas].340 When we go through his paintings chronologically, it is striking how often he inserts these vistas on the right or left side. They form visual magnets that De Hooch organizes through his further composition of the flat plane. In addition to the floor section, which gives the painting a certain direction, his canvases often have a division into several planes. The how and why of this working method can be explained again with the help of Alberti. Not in his ever-quoted Book I, which deals with the ordering of small planes, but in the second Book of Della Pittura, Alberti reports on how large planes can be made. He emphasizes that the eye, by nature, sees the forms only partially (as Van Hoogstraten also noted).341 Starting from the floor section, the further division is then raised up from the floor: parallel and transversal lines, with different heights, widths and angles, allow a diverse range of planes to appear. In this way, walls and ceilings are made on the flat plane.342 On the pavement, drawn with its lines and parallels, walls and similar planes which we have called jacent are to be built. Here I will describe most briefly what I do. First I begin with the foundation. I place the width and the length of the wall in its parallels. In this laying out I follow nature. I note that, in any squared body which has right angles, only two conjoined sides can be seen at one time. I observe this in describing the foundations of the walls. I always commence first of all with the nearest plane, the greatest of those which are equidistant from the cross-section. These I put before the others, describing their width and height in those parallels of the pavement in such a way that for as many braccia as I choose they occupy as many parallels. To find the middle of each parallel, I find where the diameters mutually intersect. And thus, as I wish, I draw the foundations. Then the height follows by not at all difficult rules. I know the height of the wall contains in itself this proportion, that as much as it is from the place where it starts on the pavement to the centric line, so much it rises upwards. When you wish this quantity of the pavement up to the centric line to be the height of a man, there will, therefore, be these three braccia. Since you wish your wall to be twelve braccia, you go up three times the distance from the centric line to that place on the pavement. With these rules we shall be able to draw all planes which have angles. 49 Alberti therefore speaks of the assembling of discrete fields within a frame. To properly locate objects on the flat plane, Alberti uses terms that indicate distance and intervals (height, width, length, shorten, draw back, bending). The same terms are used by most authors writing about painting in the seventeenth century. To place objects in relation to each other (in such a way that they do not appear to ‘fall down’) they use terms such as ‘boven’ [above], ‘op’ [on], ‘onder’ [under], ‘ter zijden’ [on the sides], or ‘gelijke hoogten’ [equal hights].343 However, shortening, lengthening and change are also described in these terms, as Van Hoogstraten’s cited quote showed. The ‘bepaling der dingen’ [determination of things] is a matter of ‘lengte, en breete, hoochte en diepte, holt een bult, recht en kromte, schuinte en scheefte’ [length and breadth, height and depth, hollow and hump, straight and curved, oblique and crooked].344 Architectural forms (buildings, columns) in particular lend themselves to a treatment of line, direction and angle. Stumpel pointed out that there is a long tradition in shaping the exterior of buildings (casamenti), a tradition in which Cennini describes the guidelines, Brunelleschi operates and of which Manetti left some descriptions.345 According to Gombrich, this method of depicting figures and objects ‘after nature,’ (namely by deviating from the scheme of showing the body and body parts with their natural measurements), first appeared in Western culture in the Greco-Antique period.346 In Byzantine art these techniques of shortening, narrowing and fading (for example in icons) have been carried through time. With the influx of Greek scholars into Italy in the twelfth century and later, with the Turkish invasion in 1452, these aspects of culture came along. But also in Romanesque art and in book illuminations from the twelfth century onward, parts of this classical method can be found locally in the imagery of Western culture.347 Early modern authors who write about the art of painting again consider this method of painting (with reference to ‘the antiques’). For ‘Italian art theory from the Renaissance’ this may be obvious, but also in the Flemish and Dutch treatises the references can be found. Melion has pointed out that Van Mander’s ideas on ‘naturalism’ refer to what (at least according to tradition) Greek painters had in mind. 348 Therefore, early modern ‘interior’ paintings should not be seen as correct representations of the interior of existing buildings. 349 The reverse is the case: the many ‘buildings’ are the result of the regular and ordered allotment of the flat plane. De Pauw-de Veen confirms that paintings referred to as ‘perspective’ are of earlier date (sixteenth and seventeenth centuries) than paintings referred to as ‘architecture’. Originating from French, it was first used in the Southern Netherlands in 1660 and then (in the eighteenth century) in the Northern Netherlands. In ‘perspectives’, the composition would then be more prominent according to the rules of ‘the art of seeing-through’, while in paintings designated as ‘architecture’ the resulting building would have primacy. According to De Pauw-de Veen, the change of concept is accompanied ‘by the changed conception 50 of depicting buildings’.350 This is in line with Van Eck and Zwijnenberg’s conclusion regarding Alberti's method: ‘the construction takes place on the surface of the panel, without consideration of a point of view outside the surface. The linear perspective takes place in the painting, the painting is not included in the linear perspective’.351 And in the same way Biens (1649) too explains the origin of buildings: De pilaren, muyragien en vensteren wert haer plaetse uyt de proportie des gelijnten vloers met perpendiculaerlininien klaerlijck gebout, en moet de proportie eenes yegelijcke wercx in alle ghebouwen uyt dese fondamente ontspruyten ende nootsakelijck volghen.352 [The location of the pillars, walls and windows was built up from the proportions of the floor, enclosed in lines, in a clear manner by means of the perpendicular lines, and in the work in all the buildings that sprout from these foundations this proportion must necessarily be followed]. Da Vinci, Stevin and Vredeman de Vries all believe that working with shortening lines and narrowing patterns naturally evokes forms that will be recognized as ‘architecture’.353 The drawn lines make a certain square shape, which can be called a ‘chamber,’ for example, Vredeman de Vries argues. But just as well the lines can make other shapes. With the help of his five lines, Vredeman de Vries draws the most diverse patterns such as a ‘trap omhoog’ [stairway up], a ‘venster waar men inziet’ [window into which one sees], ‘een waar men inkijkt’ [one into which one looks],354 ‘een soldering waar men tegenaan kijkt’ [a ceiling that one looks up] (bp.4.172, bp.4.173, bp.4.174),355 but also ‘een straat waar men inkijkt’ [a street where one looks into].356 Vredeman De Vries recommends that human figures or things should always be set aside in order not to lose sight of this miraculous ability of ‘perspectives conste’ [art of perspective] or ‘doorzichtkunde’ [art of seeing-through].357 Stevin too separates the drawing method of generating ‘buildings’ with perspective [in his words ‘scenography’] from the drawing of figures. He considers it not only too cumbersome, but above all a less appropriate method of bringing forth characters. Bent and curved shapes are better drawn by hand.358 ‘Tis wel soo datmen somwijlen schaeuwen siet, als van menschen, gedierten, en derghelijcke, die deur een vrye hanttreck behaechlicker gedaen sijn als ander deur moeylicke teyckening nae reghelen der verschaeuwingh gewrocht; Maer dat heeft een ander bescheyt, deur dien sulcke linien d’een d’ander soo niet en beschamen, ghelijck wel doen evewijdighe linien in ghestichten, wantof een peert sijn voet een duym hoogher of leegher opheft, of dat een mensch een duym meer of min boct, daer en valt soo seker oirdeel niet op hoet eyghentlick wesen moet. Merckt oock dat ghelijck boochsche linien van ghedierten, behaeglicker en lichter gheteyckent worden deur een vrye handtreck van eenen diet wel 51 gheleert heeft, dan deur vinding van veel punten, alsoo worden ter contrari in teyckening van ghestichten, rechte linien (waer in de verschaeuwing van ghestichten meest bestaet) bequaemer en suyverder ghetrocken langs een tegel, dan deur een vrye handttreck. [It is true that one sometimes sees drawings, of people, animals and the like, drawn more pleasing by a free hand, than by a difficult drawing made according to the rules of scenography; But that has another reason, because with such lines the one does not disadvantage the other, as the parallel lines in buildings do, because whether a horse raises its foot an inch higher or lower, or whether a man curves an inch more or less, there is no certain judgment to be made on how it should actually be. Note also that as curved lines of animals, are more pleasingly and more easily drawn by a free hand of someone who has learned that well, than by finding many points, so conversely in the drawing of buildings, straight lines (where in the scenography of buildings usually exists) are more easily and more accurately drawn along a tile, than free handed]. Thus, making a simple grid corresponds to the natural characteristics of an eye looking afar. It brings about a plane division that can be termed an ‘edifitie’ [edifice]:359 here walls appear, there a floor, sometimes a ceiling. De Hooch too generates his ‘kamergezichten’ [chamber scapes] in this way. The result is a series of paintings that can be classified according to the number of planes they contain and the number of ‘chambers’ they form. A ‘chamber’ in De Hooch’s paintings is defined at least by two planes: a floor and a wall, two walls touching each other with a right angle, with a maximum of four planes.360 He does not use box-like compositions consisting of five planes (such as Koedijk, Van Delen and Van Bassen apply earlier in the seventeenth century (bp.4.33.3-4, bp.4.177.1-3), or such as Dou, (bp.4.33.1-2), nor ‘single-walled rooms’ (such as Ter Borch, bp.4.90.1, bp.4.131.1).361 The more planes are added, the more ‘chambers’ there are within the canvas frame and the ‘larger’ or ‘more differentiated’ the house will be. The latter, however, presupposes that the chambers have ‘holes’ through which a subsequent ‘chamber’ can be seen: doors and windows in the back wall or side wall, the stairs in the floor or in the ceiling. De Hooch’s paintings show (in terms of Vredeman de Vries) an exceptional wealth of such ‘insiende’ [seeing into], ‘opsiende’ [seeing on], ‘teghensiende’ [looking against], ‘deursiende’ [looking through], ‘opgaende’ [up-going], ‘neer-gaende’ [down-going] or ‘opslaende’ [folding] elements.362 Window, door and staircase are visual means that, based on the same rules of the art of perspective, can open up the applied planes and make them transparent. The result of this differentiation of the flat plane is an increasing number of ‘chambers’ within the same framework.363 His paintings also include outdoor locations: sometimes they are ‘uitzichten’ [views] on the garden and pavement, on the street, moat, façade on the other side, but occasionally also forest and meadow. Sometimes only the sky is visible, caught in the frame of a window.364 By the way, the following sections will show that De 52 Hooch opens the walls in an even more ingenious way: for example, when the translucent window becomes visible as a pattern on a wall or the floor. Along this line some one hundred ‘interior’ paintings by De Hooch can be brought down to three basic categories and a few transformation rules (bp.4.36). Switching left and right openings, combining ‘window’- and ‘door’-openings, rotating the picture plane in relation to the wall and varying the permeability of the ‘openings’ can each bring forth a series of variants. The last rule in particular De Hooch employs very ingenious, as will be seen in the section 4.1.2.: windows and doors can be closed or opened in different ways, showing cracks or be covered with curtains or glass curtains. It turns out that De Hooch always organizes a minimum of two ‘chambers’ in his paintings and that four is the maximum.365 This means that his canvases consist of at least three different planes and usually a multiple of them when we take into account the holes or cutouts he makes in these planes (about which more in 4.1.2.). Even when De Hooch restricts himself to a single chamber, this always implies a location ‘elsewhere’ – another chamber inside or another place outside the house. Unlike Ter Borch and Rembrandt, he did not paint windowless or doorless chambers. The great variety shown by De Hooch’s paintings is in fact based on a small number of adaptations. By rotating or mirroring the planes or the openings therein (such as ‘window’ or ‘door’) an entirely different appearance of a ‘chamber’ can be organized. Both window and door can (apart from their further appearance) be placed in the back wall, side wall, or both. Moving a limited number of elements can have a major impact on the overall plane division and composition. In fact, we are dealing here with a regular transformation of a simple system, which can generate more complicated and complex compositions. We are not dealing with an endless expansion of the number of basic categories. And certainly not with a representation of reality. In 1718 Arnold Houbraken described the Hoochs paintings as a ‘kamergezicht’ [chamber scape]. They amount to a further elaboration of natural, panoramic viewing. De Hooch organizes complexity in the flat plane by opening up the canvas in all directions. In a horizontal sense he places ‘chambers’ one after the other or he expands them sideways. In other cases, he adds a vertical ‘verdieping’ [floor]: a spiral staircase going up or a lower basement. The serene and tranquil atmosphere that many writers consider characterizing De Hooch’s paintings is thus remarkably the result of constant variations, shifts and the combination of elements. Apart from a few small series in which he quite literally repeats his composition (from bp.4.14.1 and bp.4.23.2 there are two variations each, while bp.4.21, 1-2 can also be seen as a pair), 366 his ‘interiors’ all differ from each other. The tranquility and harmony in his paintings is therefore due to his systematic use of some compositional means (floor, wall, ceiling, window, door). It is true that 53 each ‘mise en cadre’ has its own character, but at the same time each new painting is immediately recognizable as part of the system used by De Hooch. How much the rules of ‘perspective’ since Alberti are related to the-eyethat-looks-into-the-distance, to the determination of an arrangement on the flat plane and to a placement of bodies in accordance with these natural characteristics is underlined by remarks by Carel van Mander and Samuel van Hoogstraten on the ‘landschap’ [landscape]. Contrary to recent interpretations, in the early modern treatises on painting the landscape is by no means conceived as a ‘subject’ or a ‘genre’ with its own set of (religious, national-political, erotic, economic) meanings.367 In the early modern texts the ‘landscape’ is first and foremost an issue that is linked to ‘long-sightedness’. Müller Hofstede has pointed out that the concept of ‘landscape’ is starting to circulate at the same time as the concept of ‘perspective’. Around the middle of the sixteenth century the term landscape could have two connotations, according to Melion: ‘Landscape could denote the kind of panoramic vistas codified in Brueghel’s engraved series of Large landscapes of ca. 1555, but it could describe maps as well, designating the cartographic image of earth and water. Both kinds of landschap represent distance, allowing the viewer to signify passage through vast expanses of terrain. Müller Hofstede has called attention to a whole range of ancient texts, valorized in the circle of Abraham Ortelius, that dwell on the arranging gaze from a high vantage point, in order to articulate the experience of landscape’.368 Early modern texts connect the term landscape with the depth of field that the eye naturally possesses.369 Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten point to what the eye sees when it explores a landscape. Van Mander thus compares the landscape with locks and distant endings with a ‘plaveisel’ [pavement] that narrows backwards.370 Siet al t’verre Landtschap ghedaente voeren Der Locht/ en schier al in de Locht verflouwen/ Staende Berghen schijnen wolcken die roeren/ Weersijdich op ‘t steeck/ als plaveyde vloeren/ In ‘t veld/ sloten/ voren/ wat wy aenschouwen/ Oock achterwaert al inloopen en nouwen371 Dit acht te nemen laet u niet verdrieten/ Want t’doet u achter-gronden seer verschieten.372 [See all the distant Landscape take shape The Air/ and almost everything in the Air weakens/ Standing mountains seem to be clouds that move/ On either side of the piece/ like paved floors/ In the field/ ditches/ grooves/ what we see/ Also backward it takes in and narrows 54 Heed this will not grieve you/ For it makes the background fade away]. Van Hoogstraten describes too how nature paves the field. 373 Hills, fields, valleys, mountains, buildings, cliffs, dunes and dikes serve here and there, left and right, above or below, ‘Elk op zijn plaets, en na de kunst gestelt’ [Each in its place and determined according to the art].374 The landscape spreads out over the plane, descending here, sliding there, gently rising over there.375 Bemerk hoe vlak en Weyde en Akker leyt, Verschietend’ naer het zichteynd. Hoe plaveyt Natuer het veld! want schoonm’in berg en daelen Meer vryheyts heeft, dan in gewelfde zaelen, En hoven, die in naeuwer wetten staen, Zoo heeftmen doch in ‘t Landschap acht te slaen Op vaste grond, wat onder ‘t oog verschoven Zich uitspreit, of wat afdaelt, als van boven.376 [Notice how flat Meadow and Field are, Disappearing into the horizon. How Nature paves the field! For though in the hills and valleys one has More liberty than in vaulted halls, And courts that must obey narrow laws, Yet in the landscape one must heed On solid ground, what passes before the eye Spreading out, or what descends, as if seen from above]. So, these authors again use terms such as ‘doorzichten’, ‘uitzichten’, ‘verre gezichten’, ‘verschieten’, ‘doorschieten’, ‘wegwijken’, ‘zichteinde’, ‘verkorten’, ‘achterwaard inlopen’and ‘vernauwen’, now to describe how the visible nature appears to the eye.377 The painting directs the eye ‘along the lines’ in different directions, allowing the eye to wander and roam, sometimes drifting higher or lower, sometimes coming closer or going further away. By the way, Van Mander speaks at this point of the seven directions that the eye can perform, the number Alberti gives for the movements that can be named in living beings and inanimate things: up/down, left/right, forward/backward, and finally the circular movement.378 The early modern authors understood ‘doorzicht’ [seeing-through] as scanning ‘distances’, ‘heights’, ‘front’ and ‘back’, ‘left’ and ‘right’ in the flat plane.379 By making ‘vistas’, ‘vanishing points or ‘backwards narrowing’ in the right places, the eye is sucked into one corner, then the other. 380 The eye gets, Melion notes, ‘a visual itinerary’, an optical tour.381 The panorama, in which the surroundings are scanned by the eye for differences and nuances, accompanies the 55 eye on his journey through the painting. 382 Although these are ‘imaginary’ journeys through the picture plane, in early modern painters this does not so much indicate fantasy as a counterpart to the mind, but a natural quality of the eye. 383 According to Van Mander, landscape is the form in which the painter’s task –exploring the visible world and painting it – comes into its own most perfectly.384 By the way, the interest in the vistas that nature has to offer is not limited to the authors of books on the art of painting. Poets such as Jacob Cats and P.C. Hooft also ‘paint’ in their descriptions the way in which the eye is affected by natural forms and is moved by them.385 It is not for nothing that Van Hoogstraten records a verse by Hooft in which he sings about the landscape, the longing eye and architecture: Wat Marmersteene vloer ook zoud zich konnen roemen By voettappeet van kruidt, gespikkelt met haer bloemen? Wat wanden rijk vermaelt, of wat beeldhouwery: Wat ordre van gebouw is zulke, datze by Een schaduwrijke beemd in Majesteyt mag halen? Al deden Porfir, Jasp, en Goudt, des Hemels stralen, Met spiegel gladde glans, afsteuyten, en de Zon Daer, met zijn hel gezicht, geen oog op houden kon: Wat zoud het wezen by de pijlers der Bosschaedjen, Zoo reizig, en gekapt met weelige pluimaedjen Van aerdig vloejent lof; by stammen nimmer los Van klim op, geborduert op groen fluweelen mos? Het kostelijke koor zal d’oogen haest verveelen: Maer nimmermeer het frisch der scheemrige prieelen: Welk, als gy duizendmael en duizendmael beziet, Van duizendmael aenschout op een gestalte niet. Want waer gy opkijkt, of daer is nieuw groen gesprooten, Of vogel schudt de blaen: of wint verschiet de looten.386 [What marble stone floor can boast Compared with the carpet of herbs, speckled with her flowers? What walls richly painted, or what sculpture: What order of building is such, that she may gain glory at a shady meadow? Though Porphyry, Jasper, and Gold, of Heaven do shine, With mirror-smooth shine, bouncing off, and the Sun There, with its bright face, where no eye can look: What would it be like by the pillars of the grove, So tall, and trimmed with luxuriant plumes Of kindly flowing foliage; by never loose trunks 56 With ivy embroidered on green velvet moss? The delightful chorus will almost bore the eyes: But never the freshness of the dimmed arbours: Which, when thou seest a thousand times and a thousand times, Of a thousand times behold not a stature. For when thou lookest up, there is new green sprouted, Or a bird shaketh the leaves, Or a wind shiftes the twigs]. In this context, De Hooch’s ‘kamergezichten’ [chamber scapes] must be understood as part of the landscape far away. 387 They are landscapes in which the view takes on an architectural form. They form architectural puzzles consisting of screens, barriers, thresholds and boundaries (e. g. bp.4.9.1, bp.4.10.1, bp.4.11.3, bp.4.15.2, bp.4.17.2-3, bp.4.18.1-2, bp.4.23.2, bp.4.25, bp.4.26). ‘Buidings’ do the same thing that natural landscapes do: they lead the eye to every corner of the canvas. In the landscape this happens in grassy meadows, stormy clouds, distant ends where sea and horizon meet, deep valleys and steep passes. In the chamber scape, the eye goes around in the chambers, right or left, up or down, out into the side chamber, to end up in the garden, on the street or near a canal. The domestic landscape offers vistas and floors that set the eye in motion in the same way as in a scenic vista. Although more strictly defined, the domestic landscapes also appeal to qualities that the eye naturally possesses.388 57 4.1.2. The Study of the Enclosed Chamber Lights In the previous section I determined which operations are responsible for local plane divisions and ‘seeing-throughs’ that regulate the distances in De Hooch’s paintings. Art historical literature has rightly pointed out that more aspects play a role in the shaping of his chambers. The atmospheric tone softens the hard lines of the perspective and makes its own contribution to the effect of depth. 389 De Hooch brings out the special working of light through a specific treatment of color, tone, intensity and brushstrokes. This treatment explains, according to several studies, the exceptional ‘spatial effect’ of these paintings.390 However, such a ‘method of using light to create the illusion of space’ is also evident by a seventeenth-century painter like Gerard Dou (bp.4.33.1-2).391 Many authors soon proceed to name the atmospheric dimension that De Hooch masters so skillfully and virtuoso. One speaks of a ‘sun-drenched’ courtyard, of figures in ‘full sunlight’, of ‘the warm, bright sunlight’ that is ‘falling through the windows’, of a ‘golden tone’, ‘the subdued light’ and the ‘warm atmosphere’ (bp.4.34.1).392 All these characterizations give the scenes a more symbolic charge. The paintings with ever open windows and doors, the immaculately polished house, the summer everydayness and the mothers laughing at their child are considered to be a symbol of peace and tranquility, harmony and homeliness, intimacy and love. ‘The gentle light, the comforting framework of the architecture and fireplace, and the simple palette (dominated by the primary colors: red, yellow and blue) perfectly complement the timeless image of the nursing mother – a classic example of a secular Madonna’ (bp.4.18.3).393 The Hooch’s clear and luminous paintings mirror purity itself, both in a hygienic and moral sense.394 Anne Hollander put it this way a decade ago: In the best De Hooch paintings the theme is concentrated on the domestic affairs of women and children, wherein the fundamental lessons about the relations among things, persons, and feelings are always taught; and the lesson here is that domestic virtue may arise simply out of the true perception of order. The paintings teach that wayward personal feelings will be tempered to manageable degree, and moral weakness given no scope, if everyone is allowed the steady contemplation of clear lines and uncluttered spaces, the touch of smooth surfaces, and the steady breath of clean, moist air. They also teach that life is better when accompanied by little noise and almost no speech. Instead, the dog’s feet click on the tiles, and homemade music makes beauty from design, so that domestic harmony has its outward and audible sign. But these children never fall and scream, the dog never barks, the metal vessels never crash down or tumble together, no one jeers or whines or scolds... Everything is hushed by the perfect light; imperfect and rebellious souls, unsatisfactory sexual and familiar relationships are all comfortably contained in its sovereign equilibrium. 395 58 Of course, De Hooch’s clear and true-to-nature paintings do not stand on their own. ‘Realism’ has been accepted as a conditio sine qua non of all seventeenthcentury Dutch genre paintings in today’s art-historical studies. The pursuit of perfect imitation of everyday things, the meticulous observation, the extremely careful and virtuoso rendering, the refined representation of the visible world, the depiction and making tangible of different materials, the cataloguing of delicate fabric expressions, the depiction of plausible and probable actions in ingeniously constructed spaces, the clever attempts to render the complex incidence of light and characteristic light effects as realistic as possible: that all results in a deceptive authenticity, a perfect illusionism, a skillfully staged realism, a happy imitation or a mirror of nature. The technically invisible, styleless brushstrokes, as applied by the fine painters, confirm the impression of an unmediated reflection. Moreover, according to art historians, it underlines the extraordinary giftedness of early modern masters. ‘Illusion can only be perfect if the means by which it is created – working with paint in a certain way – become invisible as much as possible’. According to Sluijter, a seventeenth-century term like ‘neticheyt’ [neatness] refers to ‘the ideal “styleless” way with which visible things were perfectly imitated in paint’.396 One of the art-historical controversies of recent times has been whether the pleasure of the then spectator in such entertaining, surprising, seductive and clever forms of technical deception was a means (to achieving a moralistic goal), or an end in itself (i.e. enjoying the forms). Iconologists in large numbers defended the first point of view, in which deciphering the ‘message’ of the seductive ‘packaging’ was paramount.397 The second point of view has been defended by Hecht, who considers art to be a directly recognizable expression of the artist’s ‘artistic ambitions’.398 So, we see that many art historians, by using the above terminology, confirm the impression of an impecunious representation. Through terms such as ‘realism’, ‘naturalism’, ‘illusionism’ or ‘pseudo-realism’ one can hardly pay attention to the differentiated knowledge of painters in the early modern period with regard to the rules of true to nature painting.399 As Alpers once wrote, one uses a ‘transparent art conception’.400 Following nature is usually considered a trivial task.401 In the best case one assumes a certain knowledge of a technical and practical nature, but this has nothing to do with the formation of a theory.402 Incidentally, this resembles the modern distinction made by architectural historians and engineers in Chapter 2 on Simon Stevin, when they talk about matters that are without theory, because they are practical-technical. In the worst case one surrenders to philosophical speculation around Van Hoogstraten’s wellknown strophe (which is reminiscent of Stevin’s statement quoted in section 4.1.1.): ‘Want een volmaekte Schildery is als een Spiegel van de Natuer, die de dingen, die niet en zijn, doet schijnen te zijn, en op een geoorloofde vermakelijke en prijslijke wijze bedriegt’ [For a perfect Painting is like a Mirror of Nature, it 59 makes things that are not there, present in appearance, and deceives in a permissibly entertaining and praiseworthy manner].403 Only Van de Wetering deals with this issue in detail when he discusses the work of Ter Borch and Rembrandt. ‘Anyone who takes the illusionism of paintings for what it is,’ writes Van de Wetering, ‘without realizing how much painterly knowledge and care has been invested in them, will indeed have no problems with this suggested supremacy of content’.404 But because of the prominent presence of paint and brushwork in Rembrandt’s paintings and because of his not-so-mundane subjects, his oeuvre is seldom associated with Dutch ‘genre painting’. From an art-historical point of view, Rembrandt and genre painting form separate departments. The supposed gap between Italian history painting and Dutch genre painting plays an important role in this dichotomy. This makes it virtually impossible to compare the so typical ‘realism’ of Dutch seventeenthcentury painting with Italian ‘naturalism’, which is accepted to be one of the important characteristics of Renaissance art and explains, for example, the appearance of the Renaissance portrait. 405 Indeed, far-reaching insight into the technique of early modern painting should not be confused with an explanation of its faithfulness to nature. ‘Nature can never provide the solution to the question of art – certainly not in this postGombrichian era,’ says Alpers.406 In the following sections I would instead like to juxtapose the various statements in early modern Europe about the natural way of painting. The central question is what terminology is used in early modern writings on the art of painting and what one has in mind when researching this alleged ‘faithfulness of nature’. The art of painting is approached by early modern writers from the ‘first principles in nature’, referring (in Italy as well as in Holland) to the ancient conception of a natural way of painting, to the “realistic” appearance of things’.407 Early modern writers are familiar with this view from, for example, the description by Vitruvius.408 After all, a painting gives a depiction of something that exists or can exist, for example human beings, buildings, ships and all other objects with well-defined and real forms. Depictions drawn from their likeness are derived from this. Later, they [the ancients] also followed shapes of buildings, protruding columns and overhanging façades (...). In these paintings we see harbours, capes, coastal strips, rivers, springs, straits, sanctuaries, forests, mountains, flocks and shepherds... After all, one should not call paintings beautiful that do not resemble reality; even if they are technically very finely executed, they should therefore not be judged as a good work of art, unless the depictions adhere to the principles of reality and rendering them without contradictions. 60 Knowledge of the workings of light is, as Alberti argues, a prerequisite for this.409 ‘No one would deny that the painter has nothing to do with things that are not visible. The painter is concerned solely with representing what can be seen’.410 Da Vinci means something similar when he writes that the art of painting is ‘born by nature’.411 For him, seeing consists of three parts: ‘the first only concerns the lines of the bodies; the second the decrease of the colors at different distances; the third the loss of recognition of the bodies at different distances’.412 In his words, the art of painting is a science ‘that extends to shadow and light or, if you like, to bright and dark’.413 The working of light determines the forms and the colors we see but also the changes that occur in it, according to Alberti: You see that spherical and concave planes have one part dark and another bright when receiving light. Even though the distance and position of the centric line are the same, when the light is moved those parts which were first bright now become dark, and those bright which were dark. Where there are more lights, according to their number and strength, you see more spots of light and dark. This reminds me to speak of both color and light. It seems obvious to me that colors take their variations from light, because all colors put in the shade appear different from what they are in the light. Shades make color dark; light, where it strikes, makes color bright. The philosophers say that nothing can be seen which is not illuminated and colored. Therefore, they assert that there is a close relationship between light and color in making each other visible. The importance of this is easily demonstrated for when light is lacking color lacks and when light returns the color return.414 Not only Alberti and Da Vinci, but also Van Mander, Angel, Goeree and Van Hoogstraten, take the contemplation of light and visibility seriously.415 The workings of sunlight are a recurring theme.416 The pictural modulation of light (best known as the ‘chiaroscuro’ and the ‘sfumato’) typifies many paintings in early modern times.417 Although there are also several known examples from the ancient period.418 Van Hoogstraten, who arranges the sun as the only ‘unadulterated’ kind of light under the stars, discourages painters from bringing her in all of her yellow, glowing power into a painting.419 Compared to this, the light from the moon and stars is ‘pale and doubtful’ according to Van Hoogstraten.420 One does not only distinguish gradations in light but also in shadows and darkness. De Pauw-de Veen confirms that, in the seventeenth century, indicating shadows and light parts – with verbs like schaduwen or diepen [applying shadows, making darker], hogen [making light spots stand out] and terms like diepsel [a smaller dark spot] – was a matter of particular concern.421 The shadow differs from daylight because it is actually nothing itself: it is merely a loss of light, according to Van Hoogstraten. 422 The size of the shadow depends on the height of the sun.423 Shadows in normal daylight are more blurred than the sharp shadows caused by the sun, which in turn differ from the harsh shadows cast by a candle or lamp (bp.4.35.1-2).424 In the case of artificial light sources, the 61 size of the shadows depends mainly on the distance to the object. It is noteworthy that although the methods described by Da Vinci to temper the bright sunlight into a diffuse daylight reappear in the Dutch treatises, Van Hoogstraten and Goeree pay more attention to the question of how to obtain an evenly spread and diffuse type of light at night by using a large number of artificial light sources (‘lampen, kaersen, of fakkels’ [lamps, candels or torches] positioned behind oiled paper).425 So, there appears to be a differentiated package of knowledge that is also accurately written down. To specify the qualities of light and dark gradations, one speaks of ‘vermogen’ [capability], ‘macht’ [power], ‘geweld’ [force] and ‘kracht’ [strength] that they exert.426 Without knowledge of ‘dag(licht)’ [day(light)] and ‘schaduw’ [shadow] the painter does not know what he is painting, according to Goeree.427 Knowledge about the power that lights and shadows exercise through their natural properties should be the starting point for painting, Alberti also emphasizes.428 Painters can only do their work if they know how light and dark exert various forces on the eye (‘gezicht’ [seeing]) due to their particular capabilities. The extent to which the eye is able to perceive differences between light and dark in a painting depends on the distance between the eye and a painting.429 For authors such as Van Mander, Angel, De Grebber, Goeree and Van Hoogstraten, visibility – by understanding light in all its diversity – is the foundation of painting. As an introduction to ‘Melpomene’, the muse of the seventh chapter, Van Hoogstraten writes the following:430 62 Melpomen ten Toneele op Treurspel afgericht Toont dat wat zichtbaer is, in s’Hemels gulde zaelen, Op d’Aerde, en onder d’aerd’, ja daer de geesten dwaelen, Die zichtbaerheyt ontfangt door vuer of Zonnelicht. Zij meet het onderscheyt van meer en minder lichten, In kleur en klaerheyt, en zy wijst de graeden aen, Zy leert de schaduwen op ‘t grondichste verstaen; En, verre ziende, rept van schoone Deurgezichten Is ‘t Treurspel ‘t schoonste, dat vertoont wort op ‘t Toneel, De daeg- en schaduwkunst is hier geen minder deel. Hier is ons afgebeelt de braefst der Zangheldinnen: Den Blixem vult haer vuist, zy heeft de Zon om ‘t hooft, En is aen’t Hemels vuer, of eer Apol, verlooft; Vulkaen kon zonder haer zijn proefstuck niet beginnen. Haer brantglas straelt altijts, waer of zy’t wendt of keert: Treurdichters worden meest door haeren geest bereeden: Fortuin, of wel’t geval, verdraeit zich op haer schreeden: Zy schept vermaeck in’t geen vermindert of vermeert: Verdonkert en verklaert: ontluikt of raekt aen ‘t zwichten; Met reden dan beheert zy schaduwen en lichten.431 [On the Stage Melpome is aimed at the Tragedy She shows what is visible, in the Heavenly, gilded halls, On the Earth, and under the earth, yea where the ghosts wander, She receives visibility through fire or Sunlight. She measures the difference of more and less lights, In colour and brightness, and she points out the degrees, She teaches how to understand the shadows fundamentally. And, looking on in the distance, she speaks of beautiful Vistas TheTtragedy is the most beautiful that is performed on Stage, The art of day and shadow is here no less. Here we see the bravest of the Singing heroines: The Lightning fills her fist, she has the Sun on her head, And is betrothed to the fire of Heaven, or even Apollo; Volcano could not begin his test without her. Her fire-glass always shines, wherever she turns: Tragedy poets are mostly moved by her spirit: Fortune, or chance, twists and turns in her steps: She delights in that which diminisheth or increaseth: darkens and brightens: blossoms or yields; With reason then she masters shadows and lights]. 63 Sunlight occupies a special place in the paintings of Pieter de Hooch. Light can sometimes enter a chamber from the side, sometimes from behind, but also from the front or even from several sides at the same time (bp.4.36). As far as the sky can be seen, the skies are seldom cloudless, nor sky blue. They are more often colored by dawn or sunset (bp.4.57). 432 In addition, De Hooch also displays artificial light, about which Van Mander, Angel and Van Hoogstraten write. 433 Several times he shows a burning fire in the fireplace (bp.4.41.1-6). He even made some nocturnal scenes, such as a courtyard with moonlight or an interior with a fireplace and candlelight. 434 Exceptional lights from nature, such as lightning or weathering, however, do not occur. They are mentioned by Samuel van Hoogstraten and depicted in early modern prints (bp.3.28.3).435 De Hooch studied the incidence of light and the way light behaves, especially in his ‘kamergezichten’ [chamber scapes].436 At this point, however, his work is often associated with the box-like, geometrically accurate and realistically exposed space by, for example, Koedijk (bp.4.33.3-4).437 But if one compares the painted chambers of both, De Hooch’s paintings distinguish themselves on at least four points. First of all, Koedijk paints box-like chambers, formed by a depiction of five from six planes. Daylight enters through open windows and saturates everything visible. Due to their even color, these surfaces underline a homogeneous lighting effect in the chamber. The slight local changes in tone (around objects the color is somewhat darker) emphasize that the light is diffuse in nature and does not evoke a relief effect. 438 Compared to this, De Hooch modulates the planes of the painting as a well-ordered contrast (bp.4.17.2, bp.4.23). Dark and light planes alternate on the canvas and form the walls of the chamber by their coherent arrangement. 439 Due to the alternation of light and dark planes, the eye moves from one plane to another in order to often reach the ‘source’ of the light: an open window or door. Secondly, De Hooch’s paintings show a greater variety of windows and doors than those of Koedijk. As a result, sunlight does not ‘just’ fall in. By differentiating the opening, De Hooch is able to make light appear in all kinds of forms and brings about different degrees of translucency (bp.4.36). Window ensembles – mostly consisting of the ‘kruiskozijnen’ [crossbar frames of the windows and the door, sometimes completely open, sometimes half open – offer a range of possibilities. Unlike Koedijk, the Hooch totally exploits these possibilities. It suits him well that a crossbar frame consists of two upper and lower lights next to each other, of which the lower light can be opened while both upper and lower light can be covered by a hatch. Open or closed, covered or uncovered, with or without shutters: De Hooch completes the whole range of combinations of half, whole or multiple crossbar frames, whether or not combined with an open door. But this is only a prelude to the further variation and nuance of sunlight. The third difference with Koedijk is that De Hooch uses all kinds of mediating 64 substances. Although Koedijk also has stained-glass windows, De Hooch displays various types. De Hooch shows wooden blinds, closed, translucent curtains, and glass curtains. The crossbar windows – with stained glass, sometimes painted, often consisting of two inward opening windows and two overhead lights (which can be folded inwards in different ways) – offer a variety of possibilities for window covering and ‘light admission’. For example, the curtains can only cover the lower parts of the window or they can hang over the entire length, covering only half of the crossbar windows. A single window is also provided with painted medallions (bp.4.36.2-3), paintings which Stevin, incidentally, advises against in house building because they obstruct the supply of light. In addition, all kinds of translucent curtains (often covering only a lower part of the frame, bp.4.36.1, 12) or curtains of impermeable fabric (sometimes completely, sometimes partially hanging in front of a window, hatch or door, bp.4.36.5, 9 and 11) give rise to a further breakdown of types of light. The extent to which such a veil covers the window varies, as does the type of fabric or the nature of the window. When all these possibilities are ‘connected in series’, in which different windows are laid ‘on top of each other’, a condensation occurs, as is the case in De Linnenkast [The linen cupboard] for example (bp.4.26.1)440 Van Hoogstraten describes this quality on the basis of various substances and says: Doorschijning is, wanneer eenich ding, een licht bedekkende, nochtans zoo vast niet en is, om het zelve geheel te beletten door te schijnen, als kristalle vaten, glazen, gordijnen, ja somtijts tedere naeckten, of, dat beter te gelooven is, een vlakke hand voor een kaers.441 [Translucent means, when any thing, slightly covered, yet not solid, prevents the light from entirely shining through, such as crystal vessels, glasses, curtains, even sometimes delicate nudes, or, what is more credible, a flat hand in front of a candle]. De Hooch also makes use of all kinds of obstacles to prevent the sunlight from suddenly dropping inside. Objects outside the house such as a tree can filter the sunlight depending on whether they are dark or translucent (bp.4.9.1, bp.4.19.4). Other objects outside, such as a sculpture, on the contrary make it light up.442 In contrast, bodies near a window opening or in a doorway (plant, birdcage, chair, jug, bucket, character) capture the light and underline its entrance by a lateral overexposure (bp.4.10, bp.4.11.3, bp.4.13.1 and 3, bp.4.16.1, bp.4.18.3, bp.4.19.13, bp.4.23.2, bp.4.24.2). In another case, a female character stands right next to the light source, resulting in almost white clothing on the left side, while the dark right side serves as a counterpoint (bp.4.9.2). Another painting (bp.4.9.1) shows something similar, but now in the case of a male character, whose left part of his head is white, the larger right part is left in the dark. By backlighting, a character appears wholly or partially as a silhouette, accentuating the incidence of light (bp.4.37.1-2, bp.4.15.1).443 These kinds of optical ‘obstacles’ mean that the light 65 in De Hooch’s paintings rarely illuminates a chamber homogeneously. It is always gradated and interrupted, purified and accentuated. De Hooch uses all these paths to show the qualities of light separately. Even when a window or door is simply open and allows light to enter unhindered, De Hooch inserts miniscule profiles into the window frame, especially of overhead lights (bp.4.18.1-2, bp.4.11.1) or into the steps (bp.4.17.3, bp.4.18.1-2). The alternating dark and light strips around the window accentuate the entrance of the light. 444 A fourth point on which De Hooch distinguishes himself from Koedijk concerns the differentiation of the chamber. Koedijk sometimes expands his box with a staircase up or with an annex, but these are hardly worked out in terms of light and shadow. In De Hooch’s paintings, on the other hand, the chambers themselves sprout from the possibilities that light has to offer.445 Chamber formation is generated by Nature. By adding extra areas of shadow and light to a wall, it opens up into a ‘gezicht’ [seeing-in] and the familiar vista emerges. By opening a back wall parallel to the picture plane one can see ‘in de verte’ [in the distance] (bp.4.38.1-36, bp.4.39.1-7). The passage of one or more doorways, underlined by light and dark contrasts, offers a view on other chambers in the house, with or without a glimpse of the outside. 446 De Hooch often places a window in an interior wall, which is sometimes given extra weight by adding classical architectural elements. Here he plays with all the possibilities to nuance the transparency in the house by dampening and further diminishing the light intensity.447 Glassless, stained glass, light glass curtains, dark curtains, sequential positioned windows, are as many gradations in which the light manifests itself and is dissected. Only once De Hooch opens a second sidewall at right angles to the picture plane and we look sideways into an ancillary chamber (bp.4.12.1). The Hooch uses a transverse wall primarily to insert a window. Other painters, such as Nicolaes Maes, Ludolf de Jongh and Hendrick van der Burch, do this more often, emphasizing the ‘box-like’ nature of Koedijk’s paintings. Sometimes De Hooch walls open in both directions (bp.4.19.2, bp.4.25.1-2).448 Sometimes such a vista (directly or after a few transitions) through a wide-open window or door, offers a glimpse of a ‘house’, a ‘door’ or a ‘façade’ standing on the other side of the street. (bp.4.12.4, bp.4.19.4, bp.4.26). But usually these kinds of views, framed as they are by dark window or door frames, form ‘abstract paintings’ of small size (bp.4.18.2). Incidentally, other paintings show similar abstract patterns, such as the window in Vrouw aan het virginaal [Woman on the Virginal] by Gabriel Metsu or the mirrors in the paintings by Pieter Janssens Elinga (bp.4.42.9-12). These ‘abstract paintings’ are the end point of the optical journey of the eye and consist of a set of contrasting planes and stylized strips enclosed in rectangles. Because of their ‘geometric spaces’, the paintings by De Hooch and others have therefore also been seen as ‘precursors’ of Mondrian’s ‘abstract interplay of lines’. Van Gelder recently expressed this as follows: ‘Door styles, window 66 frames, thresholds, cabinets and crates, they all work together in a subtle play of horizontals and verticals. For those who see Mondrian as the end and culmination of a long Dutch painting tradition in which horizontals and verticals are the constants, here is the evidence for bragging’.449 The common denominator of all these ‘vistas’ is that they carry the eye further in different ways. Not only because of the lines that divide the canvas, but also because of the succession and alternation of dark strips and light planes, the eye finally ends up in the far corner of the image, where the image is most abstract. Sometimes, as in the painting ‘Vrouw met kind in een kelderkamer’ [Woman with child in a basement chamber], even two such trajectories are at work (bp.4.18.2). Step by step, from dark to dark, the eye moves forward, to disappear into the illuminated plane at the top right via a dark window frame. Something similar is taking place on the left side, although the eye is now being sucked in via a few light planes, towards a lower window that glows in the dark. And yet De Hooch takes the interplay of light and dark even further. He often breaks open a flat wall by providing it with a contrasting object. These can be divided into three categories. A first category includes items such as ‘bedstee’ [bed box] ‘hemelbed’ [four-poster bed], ‘schouw’ [mantelpiece, fireplace] and ‘clavecimbel’ [harpsichord]. In many of De Hooch’s paintings this kind of dark, rectangular delineated planes have been introduced (bp.4.40). Often framed by less dark shades, the contrast between such a ‘black hole’ and the wall is somewhat softened. The box bed, the four-poster bed, the fireplace and the harpsichord – conceived as black holes – draw the eye towards them, forming a counterpoint to the light. In this way it is possible to evoke different vistas within a single chamber. De Hooch constantly varies the size of these black holes: by further opening or closing the curtains of the bed box, by showing a chimney only halfway or by placing a character in front of it, the size of these shaded planes changes constantly. The power of the black hole lies in the uncertainty of what it shows: is it a pillow, a sheet, or a body part?450 Sometimes the burning fire adds its own light spectacle. The flames glowing between dark stones, which reflect in the tiled floor, locally interrupt the incoming light of the sun. And yet at the same time these lights unify a specific part of the painting (bp.4.41.1-6). A second category consists of objects which, unlike the first, multiply the light in the chamber. For example, the rectangular carpets on the wall that mark a sitting area (bp.4.19.3). These are planes with luminous and shiny patterns that underline the presence of light. The numerous mirrors do this to an even greater extent (bp.4.42). With their diverse frames (from shiny gilded relief to a sleek and dark frame) they hang slightly forward. Because of that position they mirror certain parts of the painting, causing reflection and depiction to merge into one another.451 A window through which sunlight falls can thus be displayed twice 67 (bp.4.34). Such reflective rectangles also break through the confined chamber; they extend it with a new visual vista. The third category with which De Hooch makes a break in the walls are depictions such as biblical and mythological paintings (bp.4.43), portraits (bp.4.44.1-6), landscapes (bp.4.44.6-10) and maps (bp.4.41.7-10), placed above a chimney, a door or next to a bed box or four-poster bed. In art-historical literature it is common to conceive of the painting-in-painting as an iconographic key that reveals the moral or sexual meaning of the painting.452 However, I think their presence has a different ratio. As pictorial ‘inserts’ they mainly contribute to the visual permeability of the wall. They repeat the high-contrast arrangement that De Hooch organizes in each of his paintings, but now on a smaller scale. In addition, they each offer their own panoramic view: a mythological or biblical world that once existed, the world of the urban burgher, overseas territories on the other side of the world. These are also three vistas that form the imaginary horizon of Holland’s seventeenth century. De Hooch puts them on the canvas like minuscule pictograms. Temporarily framed and fixed, they can be opened at any time and one can enter their world cerebrally. De Hooch seldom depicts in his paintings the large trajectories of light that divide the painting into a light and a dark part. This is the case with Dou, for example, or in the chiaroscuro of Rembrandt and Van Gelder. Nor does he use a chessboard pattern consisting of light and dark fields of the same intensity. Early modern writers disapprove of the harsh impact of light and dark fields. Van Mander, De Grebber and also Van Hoogstraten prefer an alternating arrangement, in which strong planes interchange with planes that are weaker in intensity and less strong.453 Light and dark of different kinds enhance each other’s strengths and are able to achieve an impressive and coherent whole and exert power on the eye.454 An appropriate arrangement of light and dark planes on the canvas has, as Angel says, a magical working:455 Het wel schicken van dagen en schaduwen by een, is een van de principaelste hooft-banden daer een goet Schilder mede verçiert dient te zijn, om de wel-standigheyt die de selve onse Konst aen brenght: want de schaduwe by een ghevoeght zijnde op haer behoorlijcke plaets, gheven sulcken tooverachtighe kracht, en wonderbaerlijcke welstandt; dat veel dinghen, die nauwelijcx door gheen Penceelen met verwen zijn na te botsen, seer eyghentlijck doen schijnen; want de kracht die de levende en wesentlijcke dingen hebben, schoon haer schaduwen ghestroyt zijnde, onder een haspelen, ende evenwel noch een welstandt hebben; (...) dan als wy het selve wel te weghe konnen brenghen, wanneer wy de schaduwe, en het licht, ghesamentlijck met goede orderen by een gheschickt hebben: want dit gaet hier even toe, als het met een Bende verspreyde Soldaten, en verre van een gescheyden KryghsHelden toe gaet, de welcke gheen macht tot overwinninghe en kon hopen, ten zy dat sy by een rotten, ende alle macht ghesamentlijcken toe brenghen, om soo door ghewelt de 68 overwinninge te bekomen. Even so gaet het hier met onse verdeelde schaduwe toe, dewelcke, soo langh alsse van een verspreyt zijn, en konnen het ghesicht van de Liefhebbers niet in nemen. Want wy moeten door schijn eyghentlijcke kracht (soo noem ick het) het ghesichte der Konst-beminders, door een, eendrachtelijcke goede orderen der ‘t samen-voeginghe van licht en schaduwn, overweldighen en in nemen. Soo dat dan voor al het wel schicken der schaduwe niet simpelijck gheseyt en moet werden noodich te zijn; maer van alle Schilders, wie het oock soude moghen wesen, op ‘t hoogste moet betracht werden. [The good juxtaposition of daylight and shadows, is one of the chief headdresses with which a good Painter should be adorned, for the good firmness which this arrangement imparts to our Art: For the shadows joined in a proper place, give such a magic power, and wonderful balance; that they make many things, which are scarcely and by no Brush with Paint to be followed, appear very trustworthy; for the power which living and existing things have, though their shadows be scattered, mixed up, yet possess a balance; (…) than if we would accomplish the same thing, having arranged the shadows and the light together according to good order: for here it is as with a Gang of scattered Soldiers who, separated from War-Heroes, have little power to hope for victory, unless they form a troop, and bring all the power together, so as to obtain victory by force. The same is true of our divided shadows, which, as long as they are dispersed, cannot seduce the eye of the Lovers. For we must, by the reliable power of appearances (as I call them), overwhelm and take over the eyes of those who love Art, by a unanimous good order of the conjunction of light and shadows. So that then, about all the proper arrangement of the shadows, it must not simply be said that it is necessary; but that for all Painters, whoever they may be, it is necessary that they consider this urgently]. Apart from the rhythm of the light-dark contrasts in large and small planes that make De Hooch's ‘kamergezichten’ a mosaic of shades, a few specific phenomena stand out. Light projection, brilliance and reflection add extra dimensions to De Hooch’s optical catalogue. In a number of paintings, sunlight in the form of a shadow forms natural projections on a wall and a floor (bp.4.45.1-5). Several early modern authors emphasize that Nature itself possesses an ability to paint these kinds of shapes. ‘Nature herself seems to delight in painting, for in the cut faces of marble she often paints centaurs and faces of bearded and curly headed kings’, Alberti writes.456 The sunlight, for example, doubles a window through the somewhat jagged or curved print it leaves on an even wall. In other cases, the sun casts a pattern on the floor that interferes with the tiles. The new arrangement then reduces the ‘perspective’ working of the tiled floor and reveals the flatness of the canvas more prominent. Other painters use this effect emphatically. For example, the light pattern of the window scene in Woman in interior with harpsichord by De Witte fiercely rivals the pattern of the black and white tiles (bp. 4.46.1). 69 Another form of projection consists of the sun shining on an object (e.g. on a chair), generating a sharp shadow of the same object on the wall or floor (bp.4.48.1-4).457 Pieter Janssens Elinga, in particular, has taken the remaking of chairs to the extreme by means of light and shade. Often this painter makes one chair appear on the walls in different shapes (bp.4.48.5-8, bp.4.49.1-3, bp.4.50.13). This visual echo is known in the seventeenth century as ‘reverberatie’ [reverberation], or ‘weerglans’, referring to respectively the doubling of the outline or of the hue.458 So, the meaning of a chair for the early modern painter is that it is a good means of painting. A fourth form in which Nature itself acts as a painter implies that the light changes color. This is the case when the rising sun colors the dawn, when the sun goes down or in case of fire. For the latter Van Hoogstraten refers to his experience during a major fire in London on 12 September 1666.459 The orange-red light then colors De Hooch’s chamber (bp.4.45.6).460 The scattered light changes many planes of color, such as the window frames, the edge of the map, the birdcage, the face, the hands, the belt and the bookbag of the boy descending the stairs, but also several steps and the top of the portal (bp.4.19.2). Van Hoogstraten and Van Mander even list this change of light as a separate optical phenomenon. Maer als de Zon haere straelen door nevelen heenschiet, gelijkze in ‘t op en ondergaen gemeenlijk placht te doen, dan geeftze, als door beschilderde glazen, verkeerde doch aengenaeme verwen uit, en vermaeckt het oog door die verandering.461 [But when the Sun shoots its rays through the mists, as it usually does at the rising and setting, then, as through painted glasses, it gives off changed but pleasant colours, and delights the eye by that change]. So much for direct projections of light. However, De Hooch also makes work of places where the light reflects back and shines in the form of illuminated dots or planes.462 Sunlight, depending on the material, brings a certain shine to that object. These highlights (or ‘specularities’ as Smeulders calls them) are present in the painting as light dots of paint. They do not represent a real ‘white’ spot, but they indicate a local reflection of the sunlight on an object. 463 For example, De Hooch distinguishes between different types of tile floors.464 Some are made of marble, others are glazed, and others remain rather matt. The water of the moat also has this ability to shine (bp.4.37.3-6). De Hooch also uses this illuminating property, obtained by applying a minute ‘dot’ or a straight or curved ‘dash’, to render other smooth materials (bp.4.51.1-11).465 Gilded relief of mirror or painting frames, various metals (an iron handle, a brass bedpan, the lead in the windows), glazed ceramics or lacquered wood: they each have their own angularity, curvature and special shine. Glasses and carafes shine like mirrors. 466 Such specularities can also be seen on clothing: here a hat lights up, there the hem of a 70 skirt or the edge of a sleeve shines (bp.4.52.1,2 and 4). The local application of highlights in the form of white dots or stripes makes planes ‘hollow’, ‘convex’ or ‘round’. It brings volume and mass, evoking depth and relief. 467 The light is only strong where it falls straight onto an object, the rest is shaded. Van Hoogstraten describes this phenomenon in order to show the rounding of, for example, a pillar as ‘schamping’ [scouring].468 Objects of rough fabric, such as earthenware jars, however, are matt: they show a slow flow of dark and light. 469 In conclusion, I would like to mention an optical phenomenon that De Hooch regularly uses and that anticipates the subject of the next paragraph: the ‘weerschijn’ [reflection, sheen, lustre].470 In contrast to shiny surfaces, which reflect sunlight itself and thus work like a mirror, ‘weerschijn’ emphasizes the color of raw material that is itself reflected back. Alberti had already marveled at this working when he noticed that the face of someone in a grassy meadow itself shows a greenish reflection. 471 Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten also point to this phenomenon:472 Die zich in ‘t groen des Zomers gaet vermeiden, By Zonneschijn in beemden of in weiden, De schaduw van zijn trony wort gestelt Nae ‘t groen of geel van ‘t klaer verlichte velt. [Those who enjoy relaxing in the green of summer, By sunshine in meadows or fields, The shadow of his face is set In following the green or yellow of the brightly lit field]. Different paintings by De Hooch show the same thing, but now in the house. The sunlight, for example, falls on the red or yellow fabric of a dress. The red or yellow ‘weerschijn’ of this can be found in a nearby plane: on the white skirt (of a seated woman facing the girl (bp.4.19.3), on a face, on the shaded window (bp.4.9.3), on the feather of a hat (bp.4.9.2) or on the white marble floor (bp.4.12.3). The conclusion is that De Hooch investigates light and seeing in all directions on the flat plane. The omnipresence of sunlight in his paintings therefore does not indicate the representation of a certain type of weather or a certain time of year as has been suggested. On the contrary: in these paintings countless known properties that light possesses by nature are converted into paint and evoked anew. Many of these properties have already been described by authors from the early modern period. They consider knowledge of the natural workings of light and the ways in which it manifests itself on different types of surfaces to be the foundation of visual depiction. Alberti and Da Vinci have already expressed their optical knowledge in various ways.473 These kinds of 71 insights are worked out in the writings that appear after them in the Netherlands. Van Mander describes this optical knowledge as ‘reflexiekonst’ [art of reflection], a term that we later on will find in treatises by Angel, Goeree and Van Hoogstraten.474 Within the early modern context, De Hooch’s ‘kamergezichten’ can be understood primarily as the result of his research into the optical properties of light in visible reality and not as a perfect representation of the Dutch interior. But he does not do that using the familiar camera obscura, in which the outside world is projected through a lens as a ‘natural’ (but inverted and diminished) image on the wall of a dark chamber. It is known that scholars such as the physician Johan van Beverwijck and Constantijn Huygens were fascinated by this instrument in the seventeenth century. Alpers describes how Huygens in Daghwerck, in which he reports on his trials and tribulations, metaphorically connecting his experiences with the new scientific discoveries with matters that concern the house: ‘Heb ick aengename niewe tijdingen, ick salse u binnens huijs voorbrenghen, gelijckmen in een duijstere Camer door een geslepen Glas bij sonneschijn verthoont ‘tghene buijtens huijs om gaet, maer averechts’ [If I have pleasant new tidings, I shall present them to you indoors, just as in a dark Chamber, through a polished glass, what goes on outdoors is shown by sunshine, but upside down].475 Van Hoogstraten too speaks out about this miraculous device he saw in Vienna and London.476 Recently, Philip Steadman proved by ‘examining the threedimensional perspective structures in a dozen paintings’ by Johannes Vermeer that Vermeer applied the ‘precursor of the photo camera’ in half of them (bp.4.28.1-3).477 In the previous section, much has been said about the culturalhistorical problem with this kind of technically advanced research that aims to reveal with ‘greater accuracy and precision’ the secret working method of a seventeenth-century artist based on drawing geometric perspective patterns on reproductions.478 In my epilogue I will briefly return to the meaning of these technological innovations from a cultural-historical perspective. De Hooch observes the way light behaves in a shaded chamber with objects. Van Hoogstraten comes closest to this optical examination carried out by De Hooch in his description of the ‘besloten of kamerlicht’ [enclosed or chamber light] (bp.4.35.1).479 He distinguishes between ordinary daylight and sunlight entering a chamber. Both have their own shaded offspring: the shadows of daylight are softer in contour than those of bright sunlight. Het daglicht in een besloote plaets, ‘t zy kamer, zaele, kelder, of wat des meer is, stellen wy tweederley. Als van een gemeene lucht, of van een in schijnende Zon. Van een gemeene locht komen zy in haer streekvallen eenigzins met het vuer of fakkellicht overeen, behalve dat zy zoo kantig of snel niet en zijn: want zy krijgen, nae de maete der grootheit van ‘t licht, een weederzijdsche zachtigheyt, en voornamentlijk, die naest by ‘t venster zijn; want 72 deeze van beyde zijden omscheenen, verliezen zich in een punt, en behouden haer voornaemste bruinte alleenlijk in de middelstreek. De schaduwen van een inschijnende Zon binnens huis, koomen met die van d’oope lucht overeen, behalve datze sterker, en binnen ‘t bestek van deur of venster bepaelt zijn.480 [Of the daylight in an enclosed place, whether chamber, hall, basement, or whatever, we determine two. One of ordinary air, or one with a Sun shining in it. The streaks of light from an ordinary sky are somewhat like the fire or torchlight, except that they are not so angular and rapid: for they acquire, according to the magnitude of the light, a mutual softness, and especially, streaks that are near the window; for these are shone on from both sides, lose themselves in a point, and retain their principal brownness only in the middle of the streak. The shadows of an inward shining Sun indoors, correspond to those of the open air, except that they are stronger, and within the scope of door or window determined]. When depicting light indoors, one cannot be precise enough and one should not ask for more of the colors than is in their power, according to Van Hoogstraten. 481 He mentions five light-dark gradations and explains them as follows. For the first degree (the brightest light of all) the painter should limit himself to the lightest paint. The second degree (‘half verlicht, de schampingen’ [half-lit, the scourings]) includes the mezzotints and ochres. The third degree (‘gemeene reflexien of wederglansen, deurschijningen, en wat in de schaduwe eenige kennelijkheyt veroorzaekt’ [general reflections or doubling of hues, transparencies, and what causes some discernibility in the shadows]) deserves brown-red. For the fourth degree (‘rechte schaduwen, die echter noch eenich schemerlicht deelachtig zijn’ [straight shadows, which, however, still share some twilight]) one should use umber and for the fifth degree (‘holle dieptens, die van alle licht of wederglans berooft zijn’ [hollow depths, which are deprived of all light or reflective brilliance]) black is appropriate: Men zal bevinden dat het licht, vallende in een beslote kamer of gebouw, ten waer het onmiddelbaer door de Zonne wiert veroorzaekt, donkerder is, dan zelf de schaduwen vallende in de ope lucht, daer de Zonne schijnt. Want deeze van het beschenen lichaem vallende, hebben nochtans meer lichts van den Hemel, en andere verlichte dingen, dan de lichten binnens huis uit deur of venster kunnen genieten. Waer in zich groote Meesters dickmaels vergrypen, latende het mindere van binnen het meerdere van buiten overtreffen. Laet dan, om deze zaek wel te verstaen, gezegt worden de klaerheit van de Zonne zelf hondert, maer haer licht, dat zy aen de dingen, die zy beschijnt, gevende is, tien te zijn: de Schaduwe in d’ope lucht vijf: het lichtstein in een kamer vier: de weerglansen twee: de opene schaduwen een: de holle dieptens 0: dat is, zonder licht, of ten uitersten donker.482 [One will find that the light falling in an enclosed chamber or building, where it is directly caused by the Sun, is darker, than even the shadows falling in the open air, where the Sun 73 shines. For as it falls from the body being shone upon, it has yet more light from Heaven, and other enlightened things, than the lights indoors can receive from door or window. Wherein great Masters often err, by making the lesser of the inside outweigh the greater of the outside. Let it be said, then, to understand this matter well, that the brightness of the Sun itself is one hundred, but its light, which it gives to the things which it shines on, is ten: the Shadows in the open air five: the light in a chamber four: the reflecting glow two: the open shadows one: the hollow depths 0: that is, without light, or dark in the extreme]. De Hooch and Van Hoogstraten share their interest in the natural working of light with many other painters and natural philosophers of the early modern period. Think of Descartes’ posthumously published work Le Monde ou Traité de la Lumière in which, according to his own words, he wanted to include everything he ‘knew about the nature of material things’. In the end he decided to confine himself to what he thought about light, about the sun and stars (as light sources), about the heavens (as transmitters of light), about planets, comets and the earth (as reflectors of light) and about ‘all earthly bodies because they are colored, translucent or luminous; and finally about the human being who is the spectator of all that’.483 Although De Hooch’s paintings are praised for their abundance of sunlight, they are primarily dark chambers in which the allowed light is examined. ‘Painters who have locked themselves inside their eye lens, who carry the compass in their eye and understand their art as an art of sight, do not keep themselves in the daylight but in a dark chamber. Their paintings are generated indoors’, wrote Kees Vollemans recently. 484 Albrecht Dürer had already tried this before.485 Especially his Saint Jerome in His Study (bp.4.102.5) is praised by Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten for the way he studies ‘het inschijnende Zonnelicht’ [the sunlight shining in].486 But De Hooch’s canvases also bear resemblance to the ‘perspectiefkasten’ [perspective cabinets] Van Hoogstraten makes himself. These consist only of a few painted planes. The ‘interior’, the ‘objects’ and ‘characters’ that the eye places when looking through a ‘peephole’, are nothing but visible planes on which the optical forces can do their work so that the eye recognizes a chamber with objects and characters. Such as, for example, a dog, a broom or a table that unfolds in front of the eye, but on closer inspection are still flat (bp.4.47.2-3). Or the broom in Metzu’s painting (placed next to the abstract rectangle of the window). The line of light that catches the broom also hits the lid of the chest and the floor (bp.4.195.1). In this picture ‘depth’ can be seen at the expense of the flat plane of the canvas. The eye can thus switch between two registers. On the one hand seeing an abstract division of planes (based on light and dark fields) and on the other hand, the recognition of a signifying pattern (a façade articulation with windows or a reflection of a floor pattern). Nevertheless, the plane remains flat. 74 In reality, the ‘chambers’ that De Hooch, Metzu and Van Hoogstraten show are all empty. ‘The real world (...) is steeped in intention, meaning and human history. Compared to the real world, the visible world of the seventeenth century is empty and external: nothing but optics. The art-historical science of iconology fills this void as best it can with human intentions, with “mentality”, which is taken from literature. But the optical world never becomes a psychic world. After all, even the iconological motifs form only an allegorical puzzle and not an artist’s or people’s soul. In order to find the inner world of the seventeenth century, we do not have to do iconological interpretative work, but follow the secret paths of optics itself’.487 De Hooch’s ‘chamber scapes’ thus consist of a series of flat planes on which light (in the shape of paint and together with our imagination) plays the primary role. Sieved and filtered, amplified and bouncing, it casts shadows, forms silhouettes, makes objects sparkle, shine and mirror. In this way, the light in the ‘chamber scape’ shows its own invisible workings. 75 4.1.3. The Art of Suitable Color Matching So far, I have made a somewhat schematic distinction between the working of light and the presence of color. In the painting they obviously form an inseparable unity. In most reviews of De Hooch’s work they are therefore seen as inextricable. His bright colors – blue, red and yellow – are linked to the sun-drenched chambers he paints in Delft.488 In the art historical description of a scene, the colors are always considered in addition to the figures, actions, space and objects.489 Sutton, for example, describes one of De Hooch’s paintings as follows (bp.4.22.2): In a small forecourt with blue and white, diamond-shaped tiles, an older woman in a red dress, black jacket, and white headdress sits doing needlework before the doorway of a brick house with red shutters and white pilasters. A serving woman with white bodice and mauve overskirt tucked up over a blue skirt shows her mistress a brass marketing pail with fish. A fence with white railing surmounted by a vase of carnations separates the forecourt from the front garden. Through the open gate a path of yellow brick leads to an open door in the garden wall offering a glimpse of a wide canal.490 According to Sutton and others, the natural fidelity of these colorful paintings contrasts with De Hooch’s earliest, more monochrome works in which the ochres, browns and greys predominate. Chambers are darker, the colors are subdued, and the pictures are less expressive.491 Even more easily than light, shadow and perspective, color is associated with the lifelike character of a depiction. Since its massive spread after the Second World War, color television, which automatically records colors, has apparently become a generally accepted measure of objectivity. The trivial presence of the television in everyday life should not be underestimated in this sense.492 In media that lack color, such as black-and-white photography, early films, old graphics and cartoons, from the 1960s onwards, the artificiality has been emphasized more than the realism that they undeniably display. Before that, in the first half of the 20th century, colors were seen as ‘artistic, artificial, connected with spectacle (e.g. musicals) and black and white film was realistic’.493 The use, recognition and meaning of colors is therefore not self-evident. ‘Color’ is not an unambiguous object on which strictly objective statements can be made. This makes color – like all aspects of perception – eminently interesting for cultural historians. 494 ‘There is a fundamental difference between universal, exchangeable colors and specific colors with a clear message. Black, white and red are universal colors that occur in such a wide variety of contexts that they do not bring a message themselves but reinforce a message conveyed by another medium. Yellow, green and blue, on the other hand, are preeminently emblematic colors that are seldom or never used unconsciously or 76 innocently but must and can always be decoded. (...) Anyone who wants to find out what such colors are supposed to achieve, to what extent they support or even provoke changes of a social and cultural nature (...) is thus forced into complicated brain gymnastics in which everything is connected to everything else’.495 In order to disentangle the complex interwovenness in the relative perception of color, it is advisable to distinguish different levels – if only because of the analytical clarity. Evidently, there is a ‘biology of seeing’. On the retina in the eye there are rods and cones that are sensitive to light and color respectively (especially red, green and blue). The perception of color (and light) is an automatic bottom-up process (as Bordwell calls it) and inherent to the human ability to perceive visually. 496 What happens next in the brain is always in combination with top-down processes.497 The cerebral processing of color impressions, the interpretation of color patterns, the recognition, the differentiation in a color spectrum and the naming of a color scale is always partly determined by experience and influenced by the cultural baggage.498 The history of the visual arts shows that there are various conventions for naming colors. There is no reason to assume that our current Western color system is universal.499 In Greek antiquity, for example, a different but rule-bound doctrine of color was used, which according to the sources was applied in sculpture, buildings, pottery and (wall) paintings.500 In the Middle Ages and early modern times too different systems were used to paint colors on the surface. 501 The question of the ‘naturalism’ of historical images or the determination of the ‘greater lifelikeness’ of some paintings therefore implies that one must examine one’s own assumptions. What is ‘lifelike’ and ‘true to nature’ is historically and culturally determined.502 Perhaps even the question of the conventionality of color patterns can only be asked again now that the devices themselves go beyond the boundaries of ‘realism’. The multimedia effects in film, photography, television, games and clips of the last fifteen years, the infinite digital color processing that the computer made possible, make it clear that devices can evoke colors that have no basis ‘in reality’.503 The new media underline in this way that they generate their own worlds, each with their own probabilities. 504 Compared to the abundance of studies on the linear perspective and the camera obscura, there have been relatively few studies on color. Apart from mainly German studies at the beginning of the twentieth century (which coincides with the revaluation of color in modern art and architecture), more attention seems to have been paid to it from the mid-1980s onwards.505 But unlike the history of perspective, Dutch seventeenth-century painting plays hardly any role in the history of color.506 Typical in this context is, for example, that in her study on Van Hoogstraten, Brusati arranges three chapters around issues of perspective, while summarizing his chapters on color as follows: ‘Here, as in his earlier discussion of the colored forms of the visible world pictured in the eye and drawn by the 77 painter, he stresses the symbiotic relationship of color and drawing both in our perception and representation of nature. Having established the representational function of color, he presents several chapters which systematically match the painter’s colors to the corresponding colors, textures, and optical properties of the things in nature that the painter aims to represent’.507 The increasing interest in color research is often explained by a new technical development that allows for more accurate research of pigments and binders. But I like to turn things around. Because color is no longer considered an ahistorical and unchanging category, technical research can be done into the use of color as a changing phenomenon in history. These studies take place somewhat on the periphery and their consequences for the history of painting in Western culture have not yet fully crystallized. Even recent studies on the history of color, revising the familiar schemes, often refer to the use of superlatives when it comes to the ancient coryphées of the High Renaissance. Although there has been much criticism of the all too bright color scheme that came to light after the restoration of the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo is still at the top, closely followed by Rafael and Da Vinci.508 The studies mentioned show that the controversy between disegno and colore – which for a long time explained the differences between south and north, between Italian and Dutch painting, between Renaissance and Baroque – is too simple a presentation of things. If the technical studies make one thing clear, it is that many factors play a role in the painting of early modern times and that the weight of disegno and colore is sometimes very different. I will discuss the place of drawing (‘disegno’) in the next section, here I want to limit myself to the color (‘colore’). Both in frescoes and paintings on panel or canvas, based on egg tempera and oil paint, great value is attached to the surface covered with pigments. In Italy, based on the existing fresco technique, various color systems such as those of Cennino Cennini (1390) and Leon Battista Alberti (1435) are formulated. 509 At the same time, the technical working of color is investigated by Flemish painters such as Jan Van Eyck, Campin and Rogier van der Weyden, but with oil paint. Incidentally, the latter happens after experiments with various binders and their color effects had already been carried out in fourteenth-century book illuminations.510 Until the end of the seventeenth century, painting in Europe took place in the context of these two approaches. Through the mobility of paintings, texts and painters, this kind of technical knowledge is exchanged. 511 It is now known that oil painting has been used in Europe for some time and (given the similar effects of beeswax as a binding agent) is akin to the encaustics known in Roman times and in Byzantium. Venice (as a transshipment location for pigments and with old ties to Byzantium) was the first to apply the oil painting technique, while the oil painting technique perfected by Van Eyck only began to replace the egg tempera technique in the rest of Italy from around 1460 onwards. Traces of 78 egg tempera have also been found in seventeenth-century oil paints, such as those by Rembrandt.512 Research into these patterns of exchange can eventually provide art history, conceived as a succession of styles and techniques, with some valuable critical notes and perhaps even rewrite this discipline on important points.513 The number of natural pigments was rather limited in early modern times. Because of their origin from far corners of the world, some dyes were very expensive.514 Based on this scarcity, the pigments are prepared in such a way as to increase the color range in various ways. By adding binders (water, egg, oils, resins or a combination), varying the transparency offered by a dye (mat as in fresco, transparent or opaque mixtures in oil paints), 515 the manipulation of the paint itself (which is hardly possible with fresco and egg tempera, whereas with oil paint texture and brushstroke play their own role), the use of differences in drying speed (fresco and egg tempera dry fast, oil paint slow) and the use of multiple layers of paint – a great diversity is achieved in this period. During the early modern period, one writes about a variety of issues, such as what the suitable location of pure pigments is (in shadow folds or as a mediating color), on mixing pure pigments, on changing their intensity (lightness, brightness) and saturation (degree of color purity) and about the juxtaposition of similar and contrasting colors. The early modern term ‘coloreren’ [coloring] was in use until around 1720 and appears to refer to a skill of selecting, combining and applying colors, and determines the appreciation of painting and the craftsmanship of the painter.516 Colors, mixing paint and brushstroke – are a central theme in the early modern art of painting. Below, I will address some of these factors that play a role in Pieter de Hooch's work. In doing so, I’ve only looked with the naked eye as it’s technically called. Modern ideas, habituation to color and nuances that are difficult to name inevitably cause noise. But because as far as I know there is no insight into De Hooch’s paint stratification yet, I consider the following as a steppingstone to further investigation.517 The work of Rembrandt, Frans Hals and Judith Leyster has been technically researched in this sense. 518 Despite a difference in paint treatment, it still provides a certain context for De Hooch. I will compare some of his remarkable color schemes with early modern conceptions of color and with the knowledge of painting techniques acquired at that time. Natural veracity (the impression of probability left by paintings) is in early modern writings coupled with the properties that things have by nature. Nature has given all things their own color through light. Alberti had already argued this with reference to the natural philosophers.519 Uncolored things do not exist in Nature, as Van Mander also writes.520 Van Hoogstraten is of the same opinion. he writes: ‘niets in onze oogen vertoont, of het heeft zijn eyge vorm en gedaente’ [nothing appears in our eyes, or it has its own form and shape], so, ‘gedaenten worden eerst zichtbaer door hare koleuren, die de dingen by zich zelfs hebben’ [shapes only become 79 visible through their colours, which things have in themselves] to continue with ‘Alle dingen hebben haere koleuren in de schepping bekomen, en zijn door het eerste licht eerst zichtbaer geworden’ [All things have acquired their colors in creation, and only became visible through the first light].521 Van Mander says something similar, but is more elaborate:522 In’t begin/ als alle gheschapen dinghen Van hunnen Schepper/ alderhooghst ghepresen/ Begin/ ghedaent’ en het wesen ontfinghen/ Al wat de ooghe mach sichtbaer bestringhen523 Hoe veel/ verscheyden/ en hoe vreemdt van wesen/ Het heeft al zijn coleur ghehadt van desen Alder constichsten Beeldenaer en Schilder/ Hoe can der Verwen oorsprongh blijcken milder?524 Maer als de diepte was duyster bevonden/ Oft als de Poeten van Chaos ramen/ Eer de dinghen in ordinanty stonden/ En de Locht sonder licht daer verstonden Van de Donckerheyt/ over-hoop al t’samen: De verwen oock/ met haer verscheyden namen/ Die en waren noch niet/ oft soo sy waren/ Noch gantsch verborghen/ om nae t’openbaren. (...) Gheen sienlijcke dingen en zijn onverwich De claerheyt des Lichts/ na Duysterheyts wijcken/ Der Verwen schoonheyt brenghet te voorschijne/ Maer crachten en deuchden der Verwen blijcken/ Want daer en is niet/ dat yet mach ghelijcken/ Het en heeft zijn verwe: summa ten fijne/ Geen dingh mach bestaen onverwich te zijne/ Hoe vreemde ghedaenten wy hier aenschouwen/ En op claerheyts grondt alle verwen bouwen. (...) Summa/ verwe doet hier sichtbaer betrapen/ Al wat ter Werelt van Godt is gheschapen. [In the beginning/ when all created things From their Creator/ the Most Highly Praised/ Received the beginning/ shape and essence/ All that the eye can visibly comprehend How many/ various/ and how strange in essence/ It obtained all its color from this All the most skillful sculptor and painter/ How can the origin of the paints be more abundant? 80 But if the depths were found to be obscure Or if the Poets suspect Chaos Before things stood in their order/ And the Sky was without light there By the Darkness/ altogether overthrown: The paints also/ with their distinct names/ Which were not yet/ or if they were/ Still completely hidden/ to be revealed afterwards. (...) No visible things are without color The brightness of light/ after darkness has passed/ The beauty of the colors brings it out/ But the powers and virtues of color are apparent/ For there is not/ anything that can resemble/ It has its color: in short, last/ No thing may exist without color/ Whatever strange shapes we behold here/ And all the colors build on that clear ground (...) In short/ colors let themselves be visibly caught/ In all that God has created in the world]. This gives the Creation Story an extra dimension. With the appearance of Light, things enveloped in darkness finally take on their true color. The heavenly Jerusalem, about which Jacob Cats wrote so passionately, is included in all its splendor.525 (Which, by the way, is square to an earlier view that the brilliance of the spiritual lies precisely in the unseen).526 Color is a property both of the visible body and of light, Van Mander writes. It serves to distinguish things, and man has the ability of the sight to see this.527 Nature, in all its colorful diversity, serves the painter as an example, Van Mander writes with reference to the wonderfully colored tigers, leopards and panthers.528 The painter needs to get to know all the colors in order to make a ‘wonderwaerdige Schildery’ [miraculous Painting]. Colors naturally possess an enchanting power, because beautiful gradation touch the eye and stir the mind. Colors are there for the taking in the blue sky, green meadows, floral carpets, golden sunbeams and the blushing dawn.529 The color impression depends on the environment in which they appear (‘Ivory and silver are white; placed next to the swan or the snow they would seem pallid’ in the words of Alberti).530 Nature teaches which colors love each other, such as yellow and blue, red with green, or red and blue together with purple.531 The natural spectrum of the rainbow learns which colors are friends (‘gaarne bij elkaar zijn’ [like to be together], ‘malcander lieven’ [loving one another] or beminnen’ [love each other] Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten write.532 Nature also teaches them to ‘sorteren’ [sort], i.e. to classify, select, variegate and arrange colors together. 533 If you look closely, you can see 81 how the feathers of a parrot and a peacock are colored and how the hues are placed in a shell.534 If you look closely, you will discover that Nature does not use homogeneous colors, but slowly decreases them (‘We see green fronds lose their greenness little by little until they finally become pale’).535 The early modern painter is particularly preoccupied with seeing from a distance (both in the distance and in height).536 According to Van Hoogstraten, the thickness of the air melts colors. The painter must take this into account when making paintings that are given a high place (such as wall and vault paintings). The fixation of a painting, which is mentioned in early modern times, therefore does not so much concern the philosophical placement of the subject of the viewer in the continuous pictorial space as is believed today. It only relates to the way in which a painting is painted if it is immobile (as in the case of a wall or vault painting) or to large scenes such as those of De Grebber (for the Royal Palace Huis ten Bosch, bp.4.32.1) and Van Campen (for the City Hall of Amsterdam) that are permanently viewed from a certain distance. 537 In this kind of painting, the use of nuanced colors and elaborate details is a waste of time, early modern authors stress.538 In addition, Nature shows in an exemplary manner how colors can be suitably varied and arranged (see the flowers in the field, a summer bouquet or garland).539 In this way, an attentive painter can benefit from the workings of nature – which is also an incentive to go out into nature.540 Anyone who constantly keeps Nature in mind automatically appropriates ‘de ware konst van wel koloreeren’ [the true art of coloring well].541 Following nature as closely as possible does not only apply to the good things of life, as Alberti points out: ‘From day to day follow nature so that horrid and obscure things come to be hated by you; and as in doing you learn, so your hand becomes more delicate in grace and beauty’.542 Or as Van Mander formulates this early modern view:543 Nadien wy in’t verf-sorteren/ t’verhalen Der Bloemkens nu hebben wat voorgheschoten/ Die al verscheyden door ‘t natuerlijck malen/ Ten rieckenden Lenten/ in Tempsche dalen/ Als op een groen Tapijts staen uytghegoten/ En hoe veel duysent daer bloeyen ontsloten/ Naulijcx isser een die groen is ghebleken/ Om t’sorteren/ en dat wel af sou steken. Maer verscheyden van t’groen op t’groen/ doch elcke Wel afstekend’/ is tot schoonheyts beleyden/ T’zy root/ blaeuws/ purper/ oft bleeck als van melcke/ Siet oock Boom-looven en aerd-cruyden/ welcke 82 Self al in groenheyt noch seer zijn verscheyden/ Heffen wy nu d’ooghen op van dees weyden/ Wy sien een sorteren/ om wel op t’achten/ Aen den booghden Hemel daghen en nachten Dat Natuer ons aenwijst t’sorterich saeyen/ Is aen alle dinghen wel te betrapen/ Welck gheeft den ooghen een lustigh verfraeyen/ Exempel de bespraeckte Papegaeyen/ Voghels/ schelpen/ en meer dinghen gheschapen/ Hoe alle verwen malcander verknapen/ Dus Natuere/ die ons alles maeckt vroeder/ Is van het schilderen voester en moeder.544 [After we have sorted out the paint / told About the flowers, we have touched upon/ Flowers that are all different because of Nature's painting/ In the fragrant springtime/ in stormy valleys/ they stand as on a green carpet poured out/ And how many thousand blossoms are unlocked/ Hardly is there one that has turned green/ To sort it out/ and contrast it well. But several of the green on green/ of which each Stands out well/ leads to a beautiful arrangement/ Be it red/ blue/ purple/ or pale as milk/ See also tree foliage and earthy herbs/ which Even though in greenery they are still very diverse/ Do we now lift up our eyes from these pastures/ Then we see a sorting/ to take heed of/ The sky is filled with days and nights Where Nature shows us how to sow in order to sort/ Is in all things well observed/ What is pleasing to the eyes/ Like the eloquent parrots/ Birds/ shells/ and more things created/ Showing how all colors outsmart each other/ So Nature/ that makes us smarter in all things/ Is the mother and nourisher of painting]. In early modern writings it is assumed that Nature has a small number of basic colors. Alberti speaks of ‘genera of colors’ [stem colors or color families], Van Hoogstraten of principal colors.545 Although Alberti refers to the philosophical debate about the physical composition of colors in optical terms and about the 83 number of natural colors that exist (some believe that there are two, others that there are seven), he assumes ‘only four true colors’. Unlike Pliny (who mentions white, black, yellow and red) or other natural philosophers (who start from seven kinds of colors), Alberti connects the four primal elements with his own series: red stands for fire, blue for sky, green for water and ash grey for earth.546 Van Hoogstraten and Van Mander know the Greek origin of the four-color theory, as well as their connection to the four temperaments, as evidenced by their reference to Pliny.547 However, they believe that there are seven main colors in Nature, according to the number of planets known. Yellow (Sol), white (Luna), red (Mars), black (Saturn), blue (Jupiter), green (Venus) and purple (Mercury). 548 Van Mander writes that these colors can be linked not only to the seven planets, but also to the seven days of the week, to the seven virtues or to the seven ages of man.549 Unlike Alberti, Van Hoogstraten gives a list of pigments that are used to follow the natural colors in ‘verwen’ [colors, paint].550 The pigments had to be supplied, prepared and made ready for use throughout the early modern period, which was a labor-intensive affair.551 The application of a pure, unmixed hue is much appreciated by Van Hoogstraten, who speaks of ‘het Schilderachtich enkel’ [the single painting color].552 ‘Een schoone en enkelde verwe komt met de behaeglijkheyt van een enkelde klank of toon in de muzijk overeen’ [A beautiful and singular color corresponds to the pleasantness of a singular sound or tone in music].553 Some of these saturated main colors have been used in Pieter de Hooch’s paintings – mainly yellow, red and blue, in addition to white and black.554 This regularly results in color fields that cover a relatively large part of the canvas. Because of their saturation, they ‘catch the eye’. This has the peculiar effect of emphasizing the flatness at the expense of the suggestion of depth (given the architectural line pattern) in the paintings. (bp.4.74.1-5).555 In addition, there are many smaller parts that are saturated with red, blue and yellow pigment. In most cases these are bows and fringes on clothing, curtains, seat covers and tablecloths (bp.4.52.1-6). Van Hoogstraten confirms several times that ‘het koleuren der kleederen’ [the coloring of clothes] is an important part that needs to be taken care of.556 This treatment of colors can also be found in other painters (bp.4.53.1-3). The small number of pigments available in early modern times led to the desire to expand the coloring system in all directions. If you look at Nature, you will see that its colors are almost infinite. 557 For the painter who wants to follow Nature, the multiplication of colors, shades and tones is a prerequisite. ‘Through the mixing of colors other colors are born’ notes Alberti.558 This also requires knowledge of the properties and action of the pigments.559 If you do not know these properties, it will be impossible to expand the range of colors. 84 Het is t’eenemael onmogelijk, zegt Hermogenes, datmen de vermenging der dingen grondich zouw kunnen verstaen, voor men een byzondere kennisse van elk vermengbaer ding heeft. Indien iemant een graeuwe of middelverwe, of liever tusschekleur (of mezetinte) na den eysch zijns werks zoekt, zoo is ‘t hem van noode, dat hy de natuer van de donkere en lichte verwen kent, om de waerachtige breekinge te voorzien.560 [It is absolutely impossible, says Hermogenes, that one can thoroughly understand the mixing of things before having a special knowledge of each thing to be mixed. If someone seeks a grey or middle colour, or rather an intermediate colour (or mezetinte) for his work, it is necessary for him to know the nature of the dark and light colours, in order to be able to provide a reliable mixture]. The preparation of colors from pigments is subject to certain rules, four of which I will deal with. Although they are dated and often toed to certain binders, together they define the framework of the pictorial possibilities pursued in this period. Apart from the fact that the preparation of the pigments always leads to differences in nuance, four points are important: 1. mixing pure pigments; 2. adding white or black; 3. applying specularities and 4. juxtaposing certain colors because of their ability to change the color impression.561 The application of various layers of color that affect the final impression left by a pigment can still be added (as a fifth). In fresco painting, for example, a green layer was applied to obtain the right flesh color. When oil paint is used, the use of transparent layers gives this layering an extra dimension. 562 Vermeer and Rembrandt, for example, are known to have made great use of these possibilities.563 Firstly, single pigments can be mixed. Van Hoogstraten talks about the ‘breeking’ [breaking] of colors or ‘Corruptie of ontwordinge’ [decay or cease to exist].564 The pejorative term ‘corruption’ is already documented in Libro dell'Arte by Cennino Cennini (1390). Hall (1992) points out that his color system is based on a high appreciation of saturated pigments. It implies an aesthetics that attaches great importance to the sparkle or brilliance of color, reminiscent of the stained-glass windows and book illumination of the Middle Ages. In this view, the ‘mixing’ or ‘breaking’ of pigments due to loss of brightness should be avoided as much as possible.565 This fear of contamination of the pigments is also evident in case of Van Hoogstraten. For example, he advises the painter to be very attentive to show ‘de dingen in hare juiste en onbesmette breekinge der koleuren’ [the things in their proper and unstained breaking of colors].566 But, he adds, ‘de breekingen van verscheyde koleuren maecken een aengenaeme harmony: te weeten, als deeze breeking nae de kunst geschiet’ [the breaking of different colors results in a pleasant harmony: as long as this breaking is done according to the rules of art]. The oil paints are eminently suitable to be ‘zeer konstig gebrooken’ [very artfully broken].567 85 If one knows the nature of pigments and has an eye for the gradations in Nature, then one can bring forth new colors, writes Van Hoogstraten. This is how the friendship between red and blue makes purple and blue and yellow together give birth to green.568 But if the colors are hostile to each other, such as red and green, nothing but a kind of grey comes out. Complementary (‘strijdige’ [conflicting]) pigments extinguish each other’s strength and turn grey, while ‘bevriende’ [friendly] pigments make strong offspring. Whoever chooses the right colors, already has his painting on his palette. It is up to the painter to get this hidden painting out. De vermengelingen van twee verwen, indienze elkander bevrient zijn, brengen geen andere middelverwe uit, als die na beyden aert, als groen uit geel en blaeuw, purper uit blaeuw en root: gelijk de vermengingen in den Regenbooge te zien zijn. Daer en tegen zullen de vyandige verwen elkanderen byna geheel vernietigen, en niets anders dan een graeuwachticheit voort brengen, als te zien is in ‘t zamenmengen van groen en root. Een graewachticheit, zeg ik, maer zoo mocht men alles, wat juist niet root, geel, of blaeuw was, graeuw noemen. Neen. Deeze overeenkomst en strijdicheit der verwen heeft ons ‘t vermogen van byna al wat in de natuer gezien wort na te koloreeren, toegebracht, zoo datter niets anders als een wel geoeffent ooge, om de natuer met oordeel aen te zien, van nooden is. Het oordeel van de verwe is hier het voornaemste, indien maer het dingen in de natuer tusschen de uitersten onzer verwen bepaelt is. Want te vergeefs zoumen de Zon met oker nabootzen, ten ware zy taende, of door een wolk scheen. Wel aen dan, gy stelt dat de dingen, die gy na koloreert, noch lichter, noch geeler, rooder, blaeuwer, groener, paerser, zwarter, noch wat’er meer is, dan de verwen op uw palet zijn. Zeeker, indien uw oordeel maer kracht heeft, zoo hebt gy ‘t gewenste in uw vermogen, en de oeffening, mits dat uwen yver blijve, zal u zeer doen naderen. Ten zal u aen de verwen niet ontbreeken, indien uw oordeel maer goed is, en gy uw krachten in ‘t werk stelt: want gy hebt meer dan Apelles proefstuk alreets op uw palet. Kunt gy de breekingen der verwen, die gy voor hebt na te volgen, maer wel met het verstant bevatten, gy zultze zonder grooten arbeit wel uit uw palet zien. (...) zoo leyt een volmaekte Schildery ook reets op uw palet. Zie maer toe, dat gyze daer uit krijgt.569 [The mixtures of two colors, when they are friendly to each other, bring forth no other middle color than that which follows from both their natures, such as green from yellow and blue, purple from blue and red: as is seen in the mixtures in the Rainbow. The hostile colors, on the other hand, will almost entirely destroy each other, and produce nothing but a grayish color, as is seen in the mixing of green and red. A grayness, I say, but so one may call everything that was not red, yellow or blue, grayness. Nay. This similarity and conflict of colors has brought us the ability to color almost everything seen in nature, so that nothing but a well-trained eye is needed to view nature with understanding. The judgment of color is the principal one here, provided the things in nature are established between the extremes of our colors. For one would in vain imitate the Sun with ochre, unless she should 86 lose her brightness, or shine through a cloud. Well, then, thou sayest that the things which thou colorest after nature are lighter, yellower, redder, bluer, greener, more purple, blacker, and what is more, than there are colors on thy palette. Surely, if your judgement is strong, you have what you want in your power, and practice, if your diligence remains, will bring you very near to your goal. You will not lack colors, if your judgement is good and you put your strength into it: For you have more than Apelles’ test on your palette. If you can understand the breakings in the colors that you want to follow, you will see them on your palette without any great effort. (...) So is a perfect Painting already on your palette. See that you get it out of there]. Flesh color (the ‘carnaty’) is a separate problem. Not only because it is difficult to put together the right mixture of pigments, but also because the flesh color behaves differently in combination with other colors. Painters have been struggling with this problem since the Middle Ages.570 Van Mander, Angel and Van Hoogstraten all report it.571 The latter warns that the painter, more than the poet, is bound by precise rules and cannot settle for vague comparisons. Describing meat as ‘yvoir met root overstreken’ [ivory with red streaks] or ‘lelyen en roozen’ [lilies and roses] is not accurate enough.572 It is precisely here that a ‘dwaze vermenging van vermakelijke kleurkens’ [foolish mixing of enjoyable colours] leads to ‘niet dan wildzang’ [nothing but wild singing].573 Neither ‘blanketzel’ [white powder] or ‘kalkachtige witheyt’ [chalky whiteness] nor the ‘steenachtich roodt’ [stony red] of the sunburnt skin used by the Italians, nor ‘houtachtige geelheit’ [woody yellowness] of chimney sweepers are suitable for approaching ‘de nature der zachtvleezige verwe’ [the nature of soft-fleshed colour].574 Nor may bodies resemble fish through the use of ‘een lootachtige blaeuwheyt, ofwel groenheyt’ [a lead-like blueness, or greenness].575 In short, ‘carnaty’ is a collective name for the many color nuances that a human body can possess. ‘Het vleesch heeft een veel gebrokener verwe, en speelt in duizent veranderlijkheden binnen ‘t bestek van zijnen aert’ [The flesh has a much more broken colour, and plays in a thousand changes within the scope of its nature], says Van Hoogstraten.576 In the case of De Hooch, where human flesh occupies only a small surface area, we nevertheless see a diverse range of examples: from a slightly shiny forehead, a blushing cheek or partly shaded facial features to the darker tinted faces of men and the paler visages of women. It is clear that De Hooch did not nuance his ‘carnaty’ as much as other painters of his time, such as Rembrandt, Vermeer and Leyster, but nonetheless he had a differentiated approach.577 A second way to extend the color spectrum is to diminish or temper a pigment by adding white or black. Cennini advocates the use of white. This has especially been applied when making folds in clothing, where the pigment is placed in the shade and combined with the lighter paint mixtures give the fabric plasticity. Hall points out that this does not correspond to the natural working of 87 textiles, where the deepest color lies just between shadow and glowing roundness. ‘The system for modelling draperies described by Cennini is, if not naturalistic, highly practical’. It indicates that ‘unnaturalistic’ rendering was, nevertheless, much more natural than the Byzantine ‘folding’ which consisted primarily of a ‘highly stylized network of striations (...) intended to represent reflections’.578 Alberti adjusted this system by making a pigment not only lighter with white, but also darker with black. Blending with black diminishes the intensity just as much, but makes the pigment appear more shady. The pigment itself is then placed between the two ‘diminutions’, in accordance with the natural way in which the textile drapes.579 Alberti therefore does not include ‘white’ and ‘black’ among the stem colors. Because of their power to bring forth different kinds of color by their upward or downward tempering of a pigment, he calls them ‘color changers’. By mixing with the stem colors, they generate an infinite range of offspring, from utmost brilliance to deepest invisibility:580 Therefore, there are four genera of colors, and these make their species according to the addition of dark and light, black or white. They are thus almost innumerable. (...) Therefore, the mixing of white does not change the genus of colors but forms the species. Black contains a similar force in its mixing to make almost infinite species of color. In shadows colors are altered. As the shadow deepens the colors empty out, and as the light increases the colors become more open and clear. For this reason the painter ought to be persuaded that white and black are not true colors but are alterations of other colors. The painter will find nothing with which to represent the brightest lustre of light but white and in the same manner only black to indicate the shadows. I should like to add that one will never find black and white unless they are [mixed] with one of these four colors.581 Alberti warns against wasting white and black on a white robe or a black night, and therefore to use them with the greatest respect and restraint: it must always be possible to make the white and black in a painting even whiter or blacker. 582 As for imitating the bright with white and the shadow with black, I admonish you to take great care to know the distinct planes as each one is covered with light or shadow. This will be well enough understood by you from nature. When you know it well, with great restraint you will commence to place the white where you need it, and, at the same time, oppose it with black. With this balancing of white and black the amount of relief in objects is clearly recognized. Thus with restraint little by little continue raising more white and more black as much as you need.583 Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten are also familiar with this working method. Making curves (in columns, bodies or drapery) and depicting differences in distances assumes that the painter works with white and black in this way. 584 The Hooch applies the tempering using black and white regularly. For example, in red 88 (paler: bp.4.12.2, bp.4.13.2, bp.4.24.1, bp.4.12.4),585 blue and yellow (paler: bp.4.15.2; darker: bp.4.13.2, bp.4.24.1). The color fades or lapses in the distance, like in the ‘vistas’.586 The third point concerns the application of specularities.587 White and black have the capability, if used locally, to make substances shine.588 With the right juxtaposition of white and black, says Alberti, vases can appear to be made of silver, gold or glass and the painting can be made to shine. Hills points out that this fascination with sparkle has medieval roots. ‘The medieval system for the brightness or claritas of light was quite naturally affiliated with esteem for the material preciousness of objects of veneration. The origin of Italian panels as imitations of precious objects, particularly antependia in metalwork, enamel and sculpture, very much conditioned the panel’s painter’s conception of pictorial light’.589 But Alberti rigorously rejects the gilded background in medieval paintings because it shows its own will by sometimes shining and sometimes leaving a dark impression.590 The effect of a specularity applied by paint, on the other hand, is stable and that is why, according to Alberti, the painter ‘who imitates the rays of gold with colors’ deserves more praise and admiration. 591 Precisely because of these powerful properties of white and black, Alberti pleads for its moderate use.592 For this reason he calls white and black more valuable than the most precious gems or real gold. Alberti therefore believes that a high price should be paid for white, which Van Mander repeats with approval. 593 Van Hoogstraten points out that it is too easy to assume that white dots or areas in the eye ‘naar voren springen’ [stand out] while dark colors seem to ‘weg wijken’ [move away]. For this reason, painters have sought to indicate depth in wells or cisterns by adding extra black and brown. That is why they wanted to accentuate forward jumping parts, such as an outstretched arm or a virgin’s breast, by adding a black or brown deepening contrast next to it. But in fact, according to him, the workings of the relief are more complex. 594 The deepest deep is only perceived as such when there is still a hint of light (‘wit’ [white]) in it: Wy zullen gaerne bekennen, dat dingen sterk in ‘t licht, en vooraen geschildert zijnde, het ooge des aenschouwers geweldich tot zich trekken, en dat de bruine schaduwen de dingen veel van hun vermogen ontrooven. Maer dat de lichte verwe alleen zoude doen voorkomen, en de donkere doen wechwijken, staen wy niet toe: want men ziet een brandende kaerse door een nevel en de Zon, die zoo ver is, door de dampen heen, ja op den klaeren dag door de blaeuwe lucht, welke naby is, en boven of wel beneeden de wolken uit zuivere dampen bestaet. Maer dat de dingen (...) aldus in het licht gestelt geweldich uitkomen, is om dat den konstenaer als dan gelegenheit heeft, om de konstgreep, daer het voorkomen alleen in bestaet, in ‘t werk te stellen. De schaduwen of bruintjens zijn ook geen zeekere middelen om te doen wechwijken. Want schoon de donkerheit in een hol het zelve diep doet achten, 89 zoo zal het zelve noch veel dieper schijnen, wanneer het in zijn waere diepte eenich licht ontfangt.595 [We will readily admit that things that are strongly lighted and painted in front draw the eye of the beholder tremendously towards them, and that the brown shadows rob the things much of their power. But we do not agree that the light colour alone draws the eye forward, and makes the dark ones recede: for one sees a burning candle through a mist, and the Sun, which is so far away, through the vapours, yea, in broad daylight through the blue sky, which is near, and which above or below the clouds is made up of pure vapours. But if the things (...) that are illuminated in this way come forward wonderfully, it is because the artist, when it is appropriate, employs an artifice to bring about that coming forward. The shadows or browns are not a sure means of making them recede. For though the darkness in a hole is supposed to make it deep, yet when it receives some light in its true depth, the hole will shine much deeper]. Not only a white ‘specularity’ causes relief and brilliance. The Hooch also uses touches of red or yellow to achieve the protruding effect. 596 For example, he makes ‘gold’ from ochre with a white dot, ‘fire’ through a combination of red, yellow and white brushstrokes. With thick white highlights, it creates curves and elevations, shine and sparkle. De Hooch occasionally uses the black (in the form of a moon-shaped rounding) next to a white spotlight to provide the object (like the buttons on a sleeve) with an extra ‘deepening’.597 He also regularly uses unmixed red or yellow in thick splotches or strokes to accentuate details (a bow, a fold of a sleeve, a shoe), as is also known from Vermeer and others (bp.4.53.1-3, bp.4.54). A fourth and final way in which colors are treated is the juxtaposition of ‘afsteekende’ [standing out] or high contrast pigments.598 This is best known as ‘cangiantismo’ [changeant], which is named after Michelangelo, for example in the Sistine Chapel. But his contemporary, Lucas van Leyden, was also very proficient at it. Hall describes it as an adaptation of Cennini’s color system, in which the dark shadows are missing and in which the visual effect in drapery is more important than naturalism because of the contrasting colors. 599 Also in the seventeenth century there are plenty of examples of such contrasting gradations. Van de Wetering noted a predilection for painting ‘changeant fabrics’, as with Frans van Mieris (bp.4.55), but Jan Steen also applies it (bp.4.187.3).600 This ‘special type of fabric’, explains Van de Wetering, is ‘a fabric in which warp and weft have different colors. As a result, depending on the fall of light, such fabrics locally have one of two colors, which changes constantly as the fabric falls, hence the name “changeant”’.601 According to Van de Wetering, this pictorial interest explains the popularity of all kinds of shiny fabrics such as silk and velvet, satin and velour fabrics among the seventeenth-century painters.602 These fabrics painted following Nature would even be the actual subject of many paintings – 90 and not a fainted young woman (as in a painting by Eglon van der Neer, bp.4.187.1).603 Looking at the women in De Hooch’s paintings dressed in ‘satin’ and ‘velvet’ from this perspective, one may wonder – in view of their sometimes peculiar postures – whether they are not there in the first place to make the most of the colorful properties of the pleated textiles (bp.4.74.1-5). De Hooch paints the garments in all kinds of quirky tones: in various gradations he combines blue with yellow, sometimes blue with red, pink or orange and occasionally orange with green (bp.4.74.6-8).604 There are several writers who comment on such color combinations. For example, Van Mander speaks as follows about ‘weerschijnselen oft mengselen’ [reverberations or mixtures] in his chapter devoted entirely to the ‘Draperie’ [on draping]:605 Maer altijt behoeftmen te voeghen nootlijck Sulcke hooghsels in weerschijnende sijden/ Als d’aenstootende verwe best mach lijden. Op datse malcander niet en besmitten/ Ghelijck lacken lijden wel lichte blauwen/ En de smalten lijden wel lacke witten/ Licht masticot mach nevens t’groen wel sitten/ Assche-wit laet hem met schiet-geel wel schaeuwen/ Purper met blaeu oft root/ jae en de graeuwen verscheyden/ laten hun wel schoon verhoogen/ Hier moetmen op veelderley wijsen pooghen.606 [But always one must necessarily add Such highlights in resonant sides/ Which the adjoining color can suffer well. So that they do not contaminate each other/ As varnishes endure light blues/ And the blues tolerate white lakes/ Light massicot may sit well beside the green/ Ash white lets darken it with shooting yellow well/ Purple with blue or red/ yes, the different shades of gray/ can be raised well with that/ so one should try that in all kinds of ways]. Van Mander emphasizes that in order to paint velvet and satin correctly, one must apply several layers of colored and transparent oil paints, because this method greatly enhances the shiny fabrics.607 Van Mander, Angel and even De Lairesse (1717) advise the painter to study the different color properties accurately and especially on the basis of the fabrics themselves. 608 91 Naest-volghende nootsaeckelickheyt, die mede in een Schilder vereyscht wert: te weten, dat hy recht onderscheyt weet te maken van Zijde, Fluwelen, Wollen, en Linde Laeckenen; want men siet seer selden Fluwelen kleederen, die, die luyster schijnen te hebben die het Fluweel heeft, oock en nemen sy niet waer het ployen, en vouwen, niet lettende op het onderscheyt dater tusschen de Wolle en Linde-Laekenen is, noch op de glans, die meer in ‘t Satij dan in ‘t Toers is, oock overslaende de dunne eellicheyt die in ‘t fijne Linden, en ‘t dunne Floers dient na-ghevolght te zijn. Soo dat een prijs-waerdig Schilder, dese verscheydenheden op ‘t aengenaemste voor yeders ooge (door sijn Penceel-konst) behoorde te konnen voorstellen, onderscheyt maeckende tusschen de schrale ruyge Laecken-achtigheyt, en de gladde Satijne effenheyt, waer in die groot verlichtende Duyster, boven andere Geesten, seer uytsteeckende ende noch vermaert is.609 [The next necessity, which is also required in a Painter: is to know, that he may properly discern between kinds of Silk, Velvet, Woolen, and Linen Sheets; for one very seldom sees Velvet clothes, which seem to have the lustre that the Velvet has, also they do not perceive the folding, and creasing, not paying attention to the distinction that there is between Wool and Linen, nor to the lustre, which is more in the Satin than in the Toers, a firm silk, also skipping the thin preciousness that should be followed in the fine Linen, and the thin Velvet. So that a praiseworthy Painter, should be able to render these varieties at the most agreeable to everyone's eye (by his art of the Brush), distinguishing between the meagre rough Linenlike, and the smooth Satin flatness, whose great enlightening Ignorance, above other Capabilities, is very excellent and renowned]. With regard to paint and color, I would like to touch on three more things: firstly, the paint texture and brushstroke (the ‘handeling’ [action, doing by hand]), secondly, the balanced arrangement of colors (the ‘tuilkunst’, and the concept of ‘houding’ [posture] in it) and finally, the role of color meanings in the early modern system. As far as the first point is concerned, Van Hoogstraten offers the most clues for De Hooch’s way of doing things. His comments can be summarized in two points. First of all, the painter must have a skilled hand. He can acquire this through steady and incessant practice.610 Van Hoogstraten then discusses this in the form of a (in the literature regularly cited) contest between three painters who practice a different way of painting. Whether this exercise is done from the mind (in which the painter only picks up the brush after he has made a mental picture as Porcellis does),611 from the eye (in which the painter colors the canvas with light and dark spots from which the eye perceives the picture before it is completed, as practiced by Jan van Gooyen)612 or from the hand (in which the painter’s hand immediately completes every detail and thus builds up the picture as Knibbergen is used to)613 ultimately matters less to Van Hoogstraten: 92 De vaerdicheyt komt door een langduerige oeffening, en ‘t veel doen. ‘t Zy dan dat het verstandt bequaemheyt krijgt, om daedelijk het begeerde denkbeelt te vormen; of dat het oog in de ruwe schetssen van gevallige voorwerpen eenige vormen uitpikt, gelijk wy aen den haert in het vuer pleegen te doen; of dat de handt, door gewoonte, iets formeert, min noch meer als wanneer wy schrijven; want een goedt schrijver maeckt goede letteren, schoon hy’er niet aen gedenkt, en zijn oog en verstandt schijnen in zijn handt geplaetst te zijn.614 [The skill comes from long practice, and much doing. Be it then that the mind is apt to form at once the wished-for thought-image; or that the eye, in the rough depictions of random objects, picks out some forms, as we tend to do sitting by the fireplace; or that the hand, out of habit, forms something, more or less as when we write; for a good writer makes good letters, though he does not think of them, and his eye and mind seem to be placed in his hand]. The fact that Porcellis eventually emerges as the winner of the competition is mainly because Van Hoogstraten considers his calm and meticulous work attitude to be exemplary.615 He speaks of ‘volharding’[perseverance], painting ‘alles zeeker en gewis’ [all sure and true] with a ‘keurlijker natuerlijkheyt’ [exquisite naturalness]. In his explanations Van Hoogstraten emphasizes time and again that a trained hand can only make a good painting if the painter uses his mind and allows himself to be guided by the judgment of the eye.616 Speed is not a direct measure of a skillful hand: he rejects too much roughness through too much haste with the brush, as well as too much slowness and ‘stijve gladdicheyt’ [stiff smoothness].617 It is true that the hand has to handle the brushes skillfully and with ease, but according to Van Hoogstraten one should not aim for a particular kind of brushstroke. Earlier Van Mander had spoken out in favor of ‘nettigheydt’ [meticulousness], in which the brushwork (‘handelingh’) is very precise, the touch of the brush becomes invisible, and the emphasis is on painting shiny and reflecting planes. Van Mander contrasted this touch with the thicker brushstrokes, the relief working of the high mounted paint masses that can be scanned with the fingers, like those of the Venetians. 618 The ‘netheid’ [precision] or ‘losheid’ [looseness] of a brush stroke – gradations that can be introduced by the pasty nature of oil paint and that is absent in fresco – depends, according to Van Hoogstraten, on the nature of the things that are painted, the distance between the things in the painting (closer or further away) and the distance (especially the height) on which a painting hangs, but also its location near a window. In the case of a painting with paint-relief hanging directly opposite a window, the light works against it in a quirky way. Because the light reflection in the egg tempera painting is lacking, Van Hoogstraten praised it over the oil painting. 619 93 The much-heard remark in early modern writings that one should follow Nature in his brushstroke thus indicates the knowledge that the painter should possess concerning the properties of things in Nature and his skill to follow these in paint. A painter is only a master of following Nature when not his own touch can be recognized, but when his painting is judged to be close to Nature.620 The painting technique has thus become a contextual form of knowledge. ‘Want daer behoort een andere lossicheit van handeling tot het luchtige hair, het lillende loof, of iets dergelijx: en wederom, een anderen aert van ‘t pinseel te roeren in ‘t schoone naekt, en het blinkende marber. Maer gy zult in alles wel te recht raeken, als uwe hand maer gewoon is aen het oog en het oordeel te gehoorzamen’ [For another looseness of doing belongs to the airy hair, trembling foliage, or the like: and conversely, another nature of the brush concerns the beautiful nude, and the shining marble. But thou shalt prosper in all things, if thy hand be but accustomed to obey the eye and the judgment thereof]. 621 If the things in the painting are close, they should be painted with a rough brushstroke in pasty paint, while the things in the painting that are further away with a fine stroke and less pasty substance.622 The thicker the paint is smeared, the closer it looks; the more even and invisible the paint is applied, the further away something seems. To this end, Van Hoogstraten introduces the concepts of ‘kenlijkheid’ [cognizable] (articulated) versus ‘egaelheyt’ [indifferent] or ‘onkenlijkheyt’ [not cognizable] (unarticulated): Ik zeg dan, dat alleen de kenlijkheyt de dingen naby doet schijnen te zijn, en daer en tegen de egaelheyt de dingen doet wechwijken: daerom wil ik, datmen ‘tgeen voorkomt, rul en wakker aensmeere, en ‘t geen weg zal wijken, hoe verder en verder, netter en zuiverder handele. Noch deeze noch geene verwe zal uw werk doen voorkomen of wechwijken, maer alleen de kenlijkheyt of onkenlijkheyt der deelen. Wat is ‘t, als gy op blaeuw papier een blaeuwen Hemel met drijvende wolken in ‘t veld na ‘t leven tekent, dat uw papier zoo na by u schijnt te zijn, en het Hemelsch lazuur zoo oneindelick verre? ‘t Is om dat uw papier, hoe effen gy ‘t ook ordeelt, een zekere kenbaere rulheyt heeft, waer in het oog staeren kan, ter plaetse, daer gy wilt, ‘t welck gy in ‘t gladde blaeuw des Hemels niet doen en kunt.623 [I say then that only distinctness makes things appear to be close, and on the contrary indifference makes things disappear: therefore, I want that what comes forward is smeared firmly and briskly, and that what will disappear, the further and further, is treated more and more precisely and purely. Neither this nor that paint will make your work stand out or diminish in the distance, only the distinctness or indistinguishability of the parts. What is it, when you draw on blue paper a blue sky with clouds floating in the field, that your paper seems to be so close to you, and the heavenly azure so infinitely far away? It is because your paper, however plain you judge it to be, yet it has a certain recognizable roughness, in which the eye can stare at any place it pleases, which you cannot do in the smooth blue of the Heavens]. 94 If one can see a painting up close, then it is worthwhile to show the details. This was the case, for example, with Da Vinci who, in his Mona Lisa, on which he is said to have worked for four years, used thin brushes to indicate the very finest properties of her face: ‘in het waterachtich blinken der oogen zachmen de kleynste adertjes, de hairtjes aen d’oogen en winkbraeuwen haere byzondere eygenschappen: men speurde de zweetgaetjes in het teedere vel: en in de keelput, onder den hals, zachmen, zoo ‘t scheen, de pols speelen’ [in the watery gleam of her eyes one saw the smallest veins, the hairs at the eyes and eyebrows with their accompanying features: one could detect the sweat holes in the tender skin: and in the hollow of the throat, under the neck, one saw, so it seemed, the pulse beating].624 But following Nature can also imply that pictorial means are used very differently.625 In distant, high-placed paintings, large brushes are used and the unmixed colors are juxtaposed in large brushstrokes. These paintings will become graceful because their colors are mixing (‘smeltende vertonen’[show themselves melting]) because of the distance (through the ‘dikheit der lucht’ [thickness of the air]).626 Van Hoogstraten explains this phenomenon by means of a competition between two Athenian sculptors who had to make a work that would be placed at a great height.627 The first (Alcamenes) makes a beautiful sculpture, which was provided with all the fine details: it ‘was wonder lieflijk en aengenaem gehandelt, en beviel yder, die ‘t zach’ [was amazingly lovely and enjoyably done, and it pleased everyone, who saw it]. The second (Phidias) made a gruesome monstrosity that was out of all normal proportion: it ‘was met wijdt opgesperde oogen, een driebultige neus, gapende en van een gescheide lippen, en in de ogen der aenschouwers zoo mismaeckt en wanschapen, datmen de menichte nauwelijx beletten kon van hem te steenigen’ [was with wide-open eyes, a three-bulbed nose, gaping mouth with lips separated from each other, and in the eyes of the beholders so deformed and disfigured, that one could hardly prevent the crowd from stoning him]. Phidias begs to suspend judgment until the statue reaches its intended destination. And indeed, the odds turned. The gracefulness in Alcamene’s statue disappeared when it was seen from afar, while ‘de wilde draeijen, en harde steeken, in ‘t beelt van Fidias, versmolten tot een geestige en sierlijke schoonheit’ [the wild twists, and the coarse cuts, in the statue of Fidias, fused into a witty and graceful beauty]. At first sight it is different for paintings by Rembrandt, Van Gelder, Hals or Leyster. Applying the oil paints in various thicknesses and working wet-on-wet puts the paint substance itself more in the foreground. Scratching or scraping off the paint substance, finger tracing paths such as Arent de Gelder (Dordrecht 16451727) and Rembrandt, exploits the visual possibilities even further by adding graphic effects (bp.4.5).628 The ‘verzien’ [seeing from afar] – which is unavoidable in high placed frescoes and which is accommodated by a rough and high-contrast manner of painting – requires in these canvases that the spectator 95 steps back: the roughness of the brushstroke determines that one looks from a certain distance.629 ‘From close up one saw only blotched, but from further off they fused into a representation of reality that could be more convincing than that found in a finely brushed work’.630 Contrary to what is usually assumed, both types of ‘distant’-painting originate from the same kind of knowledge. 631 ‘What may come as the most astonishing thing in all this is that the image of a lubricating and finger-painting painter can be contrasted with that of a painter who, with a great deal of insight and mastering, has the painting as a whole under control’.632 Although not immediately obvious, this knowledge also applies to various paintings by De Hooch. For example, in the Kolfspelers (bp.4.23.1) a coarser brush stroke has been used for things in the foreground (the lower and left part), while for things further away (in the upper right corner) a finer touch has been used. Often the distant vistas are a fine painting in themselves, abstract of lines and color distribution, neat and precise. Sometimes these are urban details, sometimes trees and shrubs whose trunks, branches and leaves are painted in detail (bp.4.56). On the other hand, De Hooch often places tiles, the wooden floor or sand in the foreground in coarser brush strokes (bp.4.37.3-6). Regardless of the distance, it is the nature of things that determines the type of brushstroke in his paintings. For example, a broom in the foreground is depicted with great refinement: each branch can be seen (bp.4.45.4), but a roughly plastered wall is indicated in rough touches (bp.4.56.1). A distant cloudy sky is also set in a wide touch (bp.4.57). Unlike Dou and Rembrandt, both of who impose on the viewer a certain distance (near or far) to the canvas, De Hooch (with paintings that are sharp at a distance of about one meter) makes use of the various distances that the eye naturally bridges through accommodation. In other words, in the seventeenth century painters experimented with the limits of the accommodation capacity of the eye. The range of color treatments discussed so far is in fact nothing more than a set of rules, a range of possibilities that can be exploited in many ways. The real purpose of painting, as evidenced by various statements in seventeenth-century writings, is to obtain a balanced arrangement of all those colors on the flat plane of the canvas. Taylor (1992 and 1995) rightly pointed out that the term ‘houding’ [pose] plays an important role in this. 633 He believes that the refined balance between light and dark, saturated and unsaturated pigments relates primarily to the organization of a typically Dutch ‘pictorial space’.634 Sutton accepts this interpretation with regard to De Hooch. 635 But neither Van Hoogstraten nor others use the term ‘houding’ to evoke a ‘realistic space’. Moreover, Taylor himself gives indications that similar terms are used in the Italian (and French) treatises on the art of painting, and that these terms focus on the pursuit of ‘unity’ and ‘balance’ in the placement of colors.636 Others confirm that.637 96 Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten compare bringing colors together with Nature’s color arrangement in a field full of flowers or with the arrangement of a garland of flowers:638 En zeeker, een verstandich konstenaer zal dit deel der konst wonder bevallijk in Bloemen en Kruiden zien, wanneer hyze nae zijn geoeffent oog een weynich schikt; en men vind in de gemengde bloemen zoo voeglijke samenvoegingen van elkander toegeneegen verwen, datze ‘t gezicht in haere behaeglijkheden doen verlieven. In fruyten, bladeren en bloemen heeft Rafaël Urbyn zich gedient van eenen Jan, een Vlaming die by hem woonde, schilderende de zelve op een vry losser en natuurlijker wijze, als men te Romen gewoon was te zien. Door wiens voorgang Jan da Udine ook zo zeer verlicht is geworden, dat hy fruiten, druiven, groenicheyt, bloemen en allerley vogelkost, als koren, haver, gerst, vlier, venkelknopen, en Turksche terwe, in festoenen gevlochten, en elk een tijdt des jaers uitbeeldende, zoo konstich en levende koloreerde, datze aen de muuren, in d’omloopen van de stukken, in ‘t welfsel van ‘t Paleis van Gigi scheenen te hangen. Niet minder zijn de veelverwige velden in de lenten lieflijk, die door zoo veelderley groen, doch byna yder weyde of akker van den anderen verschillende, in ‘t geheel als een welstandige Harmonie maken. [And certainly, a sensible artist will find this part of the art amazingly pleasing in Flowers and Herbs, if he arranges them a little with his trained eye; and one finds in the mixed flowers such appropriate combinations of congenial colors, that they urge the sight to rejoice in its pleasures. With Fruits, Leaves and Flowers Raphael of Urbino made use of a Fleming named Jan, who lived with him, and who painted them in a free, loose and more natural manner, as one used to see in Rome. By that example also Jan [Giovanni?] da Udine was so much enlightened, that he wove fruits, grapes, greenness, flowers, and all kinds of bird’s food, such as corn, oats, barley, elder, fennel buds, and Turkish wheat, into festoons, each depicting a season, so artfully and vividly colored, as they seemed to hang on the walls, in the frame of the paintings, in the vault of the Palace of Gigi. No less lovely are the multicolored fields in the spring, which by so many kinds of green, but in which almost every meadow or field differed from the others, make in the whole a well-balanced Harmony]. So it is Van Hoogstraten’s primary concern here to ‘by eenvoegen der verscheyde sierlijcke verwen’ [to assemble the various elegant colors], to organize ‘een aengenaeme byeenschikking der verwen’ [give the colors a pleasing concatenation] and to ‘voeglijke samenvoegingen van elkander toegenege verwen’ [and a suitable merging of colors that are affectionate to each other].639 Van Hoogstraten calls this natural arrangement of colors ‘tuilkunst’ [the art of flower arranging] or ‘Tuiling’.640 Van Hoogstraten considers the Xenia, the still lifes of colorful fruit and flowers that, according to Vitruvius, were donated to his guests in ancient Greece, to be a suitable and graceful example of this art. ‘Om zich in het wel houden en by een schikken der verwen te oeffenen, plachten d’oude 97 Meesters somtijts haer te verlustigen in stuckskens, die zy Xenia noemden, te maken’ [In order to exercise themselves in the proper determination and arrangement of colors, the old masters sometimes took pleasure in making pieces, which they called Xenia].641 Remarkable in this context is that Taylor in his Dutch Flower Painting (1995) interprets the flower still life by default as an ‘inferior genre’ within the classicist system. 642 Van Hoogstraten, however, thinks about the art of painting in the same conceptual universe as Alberti. Van Hoogstraten writes about abundance (‘veelerley’) and diversity (‘verschillende’) to indicate the polyphony in a painting, Alberti uses similar terms, derived from rhetoric, such as ‘copia’ and ‘varietas’ to regulate the correct placement of colors on the flat surface and to bring forth elegance and dignity.643 Both terms recur in seventeenth-century notions of ‘gratie’ [grace] and ‘houding’ [pose]. I should prefer that all types and every sort of color should be seen in painting for the great delight and pleasure of the observer. Grace will be found, when one color is greatly different from the others near it. When you paint Diana leading her troop, the robes of one nymph should be green, of another white, of another rose, of another yellow, and thus different colors to each one, so that the clear colors are always near other different darker colors. This contrast will be beautiful where the colors are clear and bright. There is a certain friendship of colors, so that one joined with another gives dignity and grace. Rose near green and sky blue gives both honor and life. White not only near ash and crocus yellow but placed near almost any other gives gladness. Dark colors stand among light with dignity and the light colors turn about among the dark. Thus, as I have said, the painter will dispose his colours.644 A painting has ‘gratie’ when ‘de koloreering natuurlijk, en het daegen en schaduwen op vaste reeden staet’ [the coloring is natural, and daylights and shadows are based on solid reason].645 Therefore, ‘houding’ refers to two things. First, the pigments must be matched in terms of their saturation, their ‘klaerheyt’ [brightness] and ‘gloejentheyt’ [glowing], in such a way that it does not become a trial of strength. ‘In a picture where white is used as the foremost color one may not use a pure red or a pure yellow’.646 Secondly, lights and shadows must be valued and balanced against each other: a single light plane may be emphasized in its whiteness, but if there are brighter lights all around, it must submit to these.647 Applying ‘houding’ therefore means knowing the properties of the pigments and their offspring. Their value, but also the size and the shape in which they appear on the canvas, must be brought into mutual ‘overeenstemming’ [agreement] through proper sorting and combined according to a ‘wel geschikte ordening’ [well suitable arrangement].648 Thus defined, the concept of ‘houding’ shows some resemblance with the ‘lijckzijdicheyt’ [congruence] used by Simon Stevin, discussed in Chapter 2.649 This is confirmed by Van Hoogstraten, who relates ‘houding’ in color to ‘Symmetrie, Analogie, Harmonie, en Proportie; zijnde ook 98 als de overeenstemming en bekoorlijke zangwijze in de Muzijk’ [Symmetry, Analogy, Harmony, and Proportion; as also similar to the accord and enchanting manner of singing in Music].650 By striving for ‘houding’, the ‘samenstemmende krachten’ [harmonizing forces] of the pigments can be bundled and can bring forth concord in the painting. This establishes a warm connectedness (‘zachtheyt’) that has the capability to bind (‘binding’) [binding] of the variety of colors.651 Or as Goeree (1697) puts it more generally: Houdinge, om den zin van het konst-woord, en de kragt van hare natuur uyt te drukken, is dat gene, welk alles dat in een Teijkening of Schilderye vertoond word, doet agter en voor uyt wijken, en alles van het voorste tot het middelste, en van daar tot het agterste, op sijn plaats doet staan, sonder nader of verder te schijnen, noch ligter of donkerder te vertoonen, als sijn ver-heid of nabyheid toelaat; invoegen yeder ding, sonder verwerring, los en wel uyt andere die’er nevens en ontrent zijn, en op sijn eigen stant-plaats, soo wel van grootte als van koleur, ligt en schaduwe gehouden blijft; ja datmen de tussen-ruimte van de plaats, of distantie die tussen yder lichaam open en ledig is, van zig wijkende, of na zig toekomende natuurlijk met het oog, als of het met de voeten toegankelijk ware, kan naspeuren, en op sijn plaats geplant te vinden: en dit noemtmen Houding.652 [Pose, to express the meaning of the art-word and the force of its nature, is that which causes all that is shown in a Drawing or Painting to dodge behind and in front, and all from the front to the middle, and from there to the back, to stand in its place, without appearing nearer or farther away, nor lighter or darker, as its far-ness or nearness permits; so that every thing is preserved, without confusion, separate and apart from others that are near and beside it, and in its own place of existence, as well in size as in color, light and shadow; yea, that one may find the interval of the place, or distance which is open and empty between every body, going away from it, or coming towards it, which is naturally to be traced with the eye, as if it were accessible with the feet, and planted in its place: and this is called Pose]. In other words, ‘houding’ [pose] refers to an appropriate arrangement or dignified balance of the parts at the level of color. Such a natural color arrangement is praiseworthy according to Van Hoogstraten. It makes ‘houding’ part of the ‘konst der maetschiklijkheyt’ [art of arranging according to measure] in general.653 Just like a good piece of music, a good painting must show that it is many-voiced with high and deep tones:654 Zoo machmen spierwit lywaet by blaeuwe zijde dartel doen krinkelen, en schitterend gout by alle verwen plaetsen. Zoo praelt de bleeke maen by gulde starren in d’azuure lucht, zoo blinkt het rijpe graen in de groene velden. De figuren, meer tot bywerk, als nootzakelijk, zal men voorzichtelijk zoodanich kleeden, dat het oog in het opslach van het voornaemste werk niet en wort afgetrokken: niet datmenze juist alle zal beschaduwen, of in den rouw kleên, 99 maer men zal met een kunstige behendicheit door haer een welstant in het hooftwerk veroorzaken; ‘t zy zy in verder afstant de voorste klaerheden eenichzins missen, of alleen een weerglans ontfangende, van ‘t voornaemste licht berooft zijn.655 [So, one may make muscle-white linens twinkle with blue silks, and place brilliant gold with all colors. Thus, the pale moon boasts with golden stars in the azure sky, thus the ripe grain glitters in the green fields. The figures, which are more of an accessory than necessary, should be carefully dressed so that the eye is not distracted from the main work at a glance: not that they will all be shaded, or dressed in mourning, but one will by an artful dexterity cause a bliss in the main work; be it that at a greater distance they somewhat lack the brightnesses of the foreground, or receive only a reflection, and are thus deprived of the main light]. If one ignores the natural properties of the coloration, if one does not pay attention to the difference in weight, the color mosaic falls apart into separate islands of color. This happens when one takes an ‘wanschikkelijke’ [rulelessness] excess of saturated pigments, places too many sparkling lights or makes the coloring as monotonous, as in a dream.656 Van Hoogstraten therefore rejects the kind of ‘onnatuerlijk gekoloreerde stukken’ [unnaturally colored pieces] that try to overwhelm Nature.657 Eye to eye with a separate painting by De Hooch, the documentary impression is strong. This impression has led many authors to turn the matter around and interpret the painting as a deliberate representation of reality or as a manipulation of nature. However, De Hooch applies colors, lights and shadows to its canvases primarily on the basis of their natural properties and mutual values. That is why viewing his paintings as a series is a good tool. Then it suddenly turns out that De Hooch, with his pictorial means, in an endless but systematic repetition, always generates different but recognizable arrangements. Reversal, exchange and combination is his strategy. Let us now give a final example of his way of covering the canvas with colors in an elegant and dignified manner.658 De Hooch often uses the three pigments red, yellow and blue of the same saturation level for garments (skirt, blouse or housecoat, apron or dress) of female characters. 659 With this limited arsenal of colors that are matched to each other and that recur in virtually every painting, he evokes (in combination with lighter or darker tones that derive from these colors) a wide variety of images.660 Seen from the series, his ‘kamergezichten’ [chamber scapes] keep the right middle between a ‘duyzend gebrokeverwich lantschap’ [a colorful landscape broken up into countless pieces] and an abstract composition of colors, lights and shadows on the flat plane.661 Although he pays particular attention to the ability to arrange pigments in a balanced way, Van Hoogstraten briefly discusses the meaning of colors in an intermezzo. Van Mander ends his work with this issue. In the chapter, entitled 100 ‘Bediedingen der verwen, watter mede beteyckent can worden’ [Meaning of colors, what can be meant by them], he begins with the colors that are considered the most precious in the medieval aesthetic system: first gold and then the color ‘die zich er het liefst bijvoegt’ [that prefers to be added], namely blue.662 The application of precious gems (with reference to Rivius who had translated Alberti) is not allowed on the canvas, but a gilded frame around it is permitted.663 Colors activate semantic fields and carry cultural meanings.664 For example, yellow can generally stand for wisdom, nobleness or generosity, but it can also indicate summer or the age of fifteen to twenty years. 665 If it presents itself as gold, it can point to a virtue, namely faith. 666 Red, blue, black, white and green also have such meanings.667 Color combinations (such as gold and blue, gold and grey, orange mixed with green and grey mixed with yellow) are equally meaningful.668 Nevertheless, the early modern authors called for caution when interpreting colors. Interpreting De Hooch’s female characters who wear ‘red, blue and yellow’ in terms of ‘bravery’, ‘fidelity’ and ‘wisdom’ is tempting nowadays, but not in the seventeenth century. Firstly, meanings of colors are bound to their cultural context. White and black, for example indicate to Javanese ‘rouw’ [mourning] and ‘vreugde’ [joy] respectively.669 Even within the same culture, the meaning of color appears to be changing. It changes according to the context (of ages, seasons or elements). However, this somewhat unstable, contextual status of color, in which the meaning changes depending on nearby elements (e.g., ‘yellow’ sometimes means ‘wisdom,’ sometimes ‘summer’) is not considered a defect in the early modern era. For it sets in motion an endlessly shifting chain of associations. The advantage of colors for authors like Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten is that these colors have the ability to make connections and activate cultural ties. Thus, the yellow paint is reminiscent of gold, which the sun brings to mind, but also God, which in turn evokes faith.670 The circular nature of these chains of associations means that not one, but always several meanings are retrieved successively – sometimes simultaneously – from a semantic field, but without ever ending at a single essence. Endless shifts take place (in the same way as with Jacob Cats) within a natural order in which everything refers to something else – but where the referencing never ends. When a painter uses the right colors, the meanings that ‘spontaneously’ rise up form an extra reinforcement of the painting.671 For those who want to know more about colorful reminders, Van Hoogstraten refers to Cesare Ripa’s Iconologia, although he does let it be accompanied by some advice: Maer wy laten ‘t genoeg zijn met deeze staeltjes; want te veel muizenesten in ‘t hooft te hebben maeckt de zinnen versuft. Gy moogt, als gy verder verleegen zijt, met Cesar Ripa te raden gaen.672 101 [But we'll let these examples suffice; for having too many mouse-nests or troubles in the head dulls the senses. If you need further examples, you may consult Cesar Ripa]. 102 4.1.4. Bodies The human figures in De Hooch’s chamber scapes can hardly be identified. With the exception of a single-family portrait673 and the suspicion that his wife and two children were regular models, most figures are anonymous.674 Although the figures are perceived as impersonal ‘representatives of domesticity’,675 many authors tend to fit them into a more encompassing field of socio-cultural positions. One recognizes characters such as ‘the woman’, ‘the mother’, ‘the maidservant’, ‘the child’, ‘the man’, ‘the boy’ and sometimes a ‘father’.676 Then one can tell a plausible story about the mutual connection between the represented characters.677 All kinds of attributes (such as clothing, household utensils, plants or animals) and various household activities (cleaning, flea, making the bed, feeding the infant, cutting bread) are linked to virtues and ideas about morality formulated by others, such as Jacob Cats or Petrus Wittewrongel. 678 Such descriptions interpret De Hooch’s paintings in the first place as a representation of early modern social life in Holland, in which the (male-dominated) life of women would be particularly important. For example, Martha Hollander describes the Courtyard with two women and a child (bp.4.21.2) as follows:679 To judge from their clothing, the two women in the London picture are a housewife and her maid. The mistress wears a dark jacket trimmed with fur, while the maid, dressed in plainer colors, wears a simple bodice and has her overskirt hitched up. (...). While most of De Hooch’s scenes feature the two women in collaboration, this housewife watches the street, presented at a privileged moment of solitary contemplation. She is isolated and unfathomable, while the servant is engaged, turning toward the viewer and smiling at the child. At the same time, the spatial division between them underscores their different relationships to the house. The busy maid is thoroughly involved with her duties, turning inward and away from the street. Meanwhile her employer, who oversees every aspect of the household and its workings, stands with a certain authority and stability. She is linked with both the house and the street outside, with the world of the household she oversees, and with the outer world of the street, with its associations of commerce, action, and influence. This approach has been elaborated in which the ‘personal’ has been translated into political terms in various ways. Möbius (1987) discusses Dutch paintings at this time of ‘frühkapitalistischen Grossbürgertums’ [early capitalist upper middle class] in terms of ‘Geschlechterproblematik’ [gender issues] and ‘Moralisierung der Gesellschaft’ [Moralization of society].680 She concludes: ‘Die Konzentration der Herrschaft in den Händen von wenigen hat auf die Dauer die zunehmende Entmachtung und Domestizierung der Frauen zur Folge’ [In the long run, the concentration of power in the hands of a few results in the increasing disempowerment and domestication of women].681 Franits (1993) understands the 103 representation of ‘women’ as a sign of the normative constellation as it would be present in the then ‘male-dominated culture’ and which would also be expressed in seventeenth-century genre paintings. Women would have been reduced to pictorial stereotypes at the time, reduced to the idea of female virtue or to the bearer of a symbolic activity.682 Referring to American feminist film theory, which combines psychoanalysis with anthropology, McNeil Kettering (1993) describes how the ‘female character dressed in satin’ can even be understood as ‘fetish’.683 This section is about the role of the body in De Hooch’s chamber scapes. Until now, I have only talked sideways about recognizable figures, and about their social interpretation I do not expressed myself. That’s not without reason. The early modern writings on the art of painting discuss pictorial bodies in terms derived from the natural registers of color, light and optical seeing in the distance. Composed of lights and shadows, pigments, shades and brushstrokes, these ‘figures’ are composed on the flat surface of the canvas. The body, also referred to as ‘klomp’ [clod], ‘gedaante’ [figure], ‘voorwerp’ [object], ‘ding’ [thing] of ‘beeld’ [image, statue],684 is understood by early modern authors as a collection of parts, fields or planes that are contained within a circumference or contour. This can be seen, for example, in the following fragment Goeree.685 Men moet haar dan voor eerst doen begrijpen, dat alle lichamen, dat zy dan Menschen beelden, Dieren, Boomen, enz. in haar geheel zijn samen geset uyt eenige deelen of partyen, die door haar geschikte aan-een-knooping dieze met malkander, en tot bevestiging van haar figuur hebben, een generale klomp of lichaam uytmaken; en in ‘t beschouwen of by ‘t geheel, of by haar deel, van ons gekend en onderscheiden worden. Alsmen dan yets nateikenen sal, het zy na Teikening, rond Boetseerzel, of Natuurlijk Leven, ofte Schilderye, staat voornamentlijk te letten, datmen het Generaal van de form, die uyt de saam-gevoegde partyen ontstaat, in sijn Principaal wel in agt nemen: dat is, men moet in ‘t beschouwen van alle voorwerpen of lichamen, diemen door de Teikenkunst op het juist niet wil nabootsen, nauwkeurig aanmercken, wat dit of dat voor een gedaante in sijn generale klomp gelijkt. [It must then first be made to understand, that all bodies, whether Human figures, Animals, Trees, etc., are composed in their entirety of some parts or portions, which by their suitable concatenation which they have with each other and for the confirmation of their figure, constitute a general clump or body; and which in considering the whole, or its part, are known and distinguished by us. If, then, one draws something, be it from a Drawing, a round Clay statue, or from a Natural Life, or a Painting, then one must pay attention to the fact that in the Generality of the form, which arises from the joined parts, one pays close attention to the most Principal thing: that is to say, one must, in the consideration of all 104 objects or bodies, which one does not wish to follow through the Art of Drawing, observe carefully, what this or that in a form resembles in its general clump]. Besides, so far, I have deliberately talked about bodies in plural. After all, in many studies the human characters are the key to the interpretation of De Hooch’s works. One speaks of his early ‘soldiers’ scenes’ and his later ‘elegant companies’ or ‘domestic scenes’. The other objects, such as household goods, simple utensils, furniture or ornaments are subordinate to these human bodies. This is also apparent from terms used, such as ‘repoussoir’, ‘attributes’ or ‘side work’ which designate these objects as additions to the central scene (and rehabilitated by iconologists for their symbolic message).686 In the early modern age, however, the human body is conceived as part of the visible Nature. Human beings share this perceptual quality with other bodies in Nature. Because of their visual capacity, all kinds of bodies can serve the painter as an exercise.687 ‘Men vindt overal stof’ [One finds material everywhere] Van Hoogstraten writes. 688 All the painter has to do is look around him all the time. To this end, he encourages the painter:689 Leer vooreerst de rijke natuer volgen, en wat’er in is, naebootsen. De Hemel, d’aerde, de zee, ‘t gedierte, en goede en booze menschen, dienen tot onze oeffening. De vlakke velden, heuvelen, beeken en gebomten, verschaffen werx genoeg. De steeden, de marten, de Kerken, en duizent rijkdommen in de Natuer, roepen ons, en zeggen: kom leergierige, beschouw ons, en volg ons nae. Gy zult in ‘t vaderlant zoo veel aerdicheit, zoo veel zoeticheit, en zoo veel waerdicheit vinden, dat, als gy ‘t eens wel gesmaeckt had, gy u leeven te kort zoud keuren, om alles wel uit te beelden. [First of all, learn to consider the richness of nature, and to follow what is in it. Heaven, earth, sea, animals, and good and bad human beings serve our exercise. The flat fields, hills, streams and trees, provide us with work enough. The cities, the markets, the Churches, and a thousand riches in Nature, call to us, and say: Come, studious one, consider us, and follow us. Thou shalt find in the fatherland so much nicety, so much sweetness, and so much dignity, that, if thou had once tasted it well, thou wouldst have judged thy life too short, to portray it all well]. In this respect, natural phenomena (mountains and valleys, snow or clouds) are just as suitable to follow as living creatures.690 How to paint the night, how to paint a storm, Da Vinci also wonders.691 The painter must be able to distinguish all kinds of trees and flowers according to their characteristics and seasonal changes (bp.4.107).692 Animals, especially those from the immediate vicinity such as horses, oxen, dogs and cats, sheep and goats should be observed closely and to capture them in their own nature, with the right color and outline (bp.4.108). If by chance one sees strange and rare specimens, Van Hoogstraten advises to draw 105 them ‘naar het leven’ [following after life].693 Inanimate shapes show just as much a varied multiformity.694 Van Hoogstraten writes that ‘in deeze minste voorwerpen kanmen al de grontregels leeren in ‘t werk stellen, die tot de alderheerlijkste dingen behooren’ [in these small objects one can learn to put into practice all the fundamental rules, which are also inherent in the most glorious things]:695 ordinary pottery, glass cups, mugs, jars, jugs with wine, lamps, candelsticks, incense vessels, kitchen and tableware, cribs, four-poster beds, sledges, carriages, Turkish carpets, tables, copper dishes with onion, fresh honey and bread (bp.4.104- bp.4.106).696 ‘Daerom weest zoo nieuwsgierich niet, en gelooft vryelick, dat de natuer u daegelijx dingen voor oogen stelt, die gy van ganscher herten zoud zoeken op te speuren, indien gyze maer eens gezien hadt’ [Be therefore so curious, and believe boldly, that nature set before you daily things, which you would seek with all your heart to search for, if you had but seen them once].697 In De Hooch’s paintings the household objects are dealt with very extensively; they show material culture in all its differentiation and visual richness (bp.4.58 - bp.4.65). Crockery (tray, box, plate, bowl, bottle, glass, jug, decanter, kettle, frying pan, cup, jar, piss pot, pots and pans, dish plate, vase), cutlery (chopping knife, spoon, knife, ladle), kitchen utensils (grill, a pair of pliers), goods for the market (bucket) and cleaning utensils (broom, brush, drying rack, bucket) in all shapes and sizes alternate in the paintings. As well as furniture (sofa, highchair, folding screen, cupboard, stool, foot stove, chests, coat rack, crib, four-poster bed, bed box, and an abundance of chairs and tables), upholstery (tablecloths, rugs, doormat, wallpaper, wall hangings, curtains, cushions, planking), wall decorations (globe, maps, paintings, both mythological and landscape, mirrors). Architectural elements (cupboards with cornices, door or window frames with pilasters that Stevin considered debatable) appear to have made their appearance indoors. One will find sewing and laundry equipment (knitting needles, sewing materials, scissors, sewing basket, laundry basket, thimble) as well as items for enjoyment (musical instruments, music books, books, paper, pipe, playing cards and children’s toys such as a butt, toll stick, hoop and hobby horse). Furthermore, all kinds of food (bread, onions, duck, fruits, asparagus, fish, cabbage, butter, vegetables, oysters, lemons) as well as fuel (coal, firewood for stoves or fireplaces) and lighting (candle, chandelier). All that makes the chamber scapes by De Hooch a veritable sample of the household goods with which one was familiar during this early modern period. A painter should be general or universal, according to Van Hoogstraten. 698 A painter has to give his eyes, because the visible world contains a plethora of examples that all contribute to the acquisition of knowledge of painting. 699 Alberti is of the same opinion and says, ‘we should take care to know how to paint not only a man but also horses, dogs and other animals and things worthy of being seen’.700 In fact, universality is a commonplace in early modern times. Even 106 someone like Da Vinci speaks out explicitly about it.701 ‘Knowing that you cannot be a good painter unless you are a universal master capable of imitating with your art all the qualities of the forms which nature produces, and that you will not be able to do this unless you see them in your mind and copy them from there, when you go through the fields turn your mind to different objects, and study them one after another, making a bundle of selected and chosen things’.702 Seen from this perspective, De Hooch’s ‘bodies’ form a heterogeneous collection, in which the number of inanimate objects more than outweighs the few human figures that populate his canvases. Vollemans recently made the same observation with regard to Alberti’s use of the term ‘body’ in De Pictura. ‘And does the word “bodies” denote human bodies, which together form a scene, or does the word refer in a more general sense to visible or tactile forms or objects? How human was Alberti?’703 One can observe bodies in two ways: either the painter looks at things in Nature or he derives his knowledge from drawings, paintings or sculpture by other masters.704 In both cases the painter observes natural things and paints in the early modern sense of the word ‘after nature’.705 This is seen as the first step in the art of painting.706 However, Van Hoogstraten (just like Alberti) does warn against rash copying a painting. This leads to painters wrongly including the dustiness and cracks in the painting. In that case, it is better to follow a sculpture, because in it the lights and shadows can be practiced better.707 Understanding things with the eye and establishing judgment with the mind is, according to him, accompanied by the exercise of the hand.708 While practicing, the painter can build up his own image gallery in his memory in which the basic principles of drawing are stored. Or, in the words of Van Hoogstraten, ‘in uwe gedachten den aert der dingen te prenten, om daer na uit de geest, wanneer u ‘t natuerlijk voorbeelt ontbreekt, u met een voorraet, in uwe geheugnis opgedaen, te behelpen’ [imprint the nature of things in your mind, and then from the mind, when you lack the natural example, tap into a supply stored in your memory].709 If, over time, a correct an ‘gewis’ [sure] judgment settles in his eye, the painter can draw on this stock of natural images for his own paintings.710 When early modern writers speak of painting ‘uit den geest’ [from the mind], they are referring to the selection and arrangement a painter makes from the visual knowledge stored in memory, which is based on the visual exercise with (natural, painted, sculpted) examples he has gained in the meantime.711 Both Alberti and Van Hoogstraten warn against a painter who works without natural examples, who, without knowledge of Nature and without trained judgment, imagines that he can make a pleasing and beautiful picture. 712 Only by a never waning attentiveness, only by making observation a habit or a second nature, does the painter get a ‘maatstok’ [yardstick] or a ‘passer’ [pair of compasses] in the eye, says Van Hoogstraten: 107 Zich aldus gezet hebbende, zoo moetmen nae een gewoonte trachten van altijdt met opletting te teykenen, en dit zoo beyveren, datmen’t als voor een dootzonde keure, daer in oyt te verflaeuwen: want eens verflaeuwt hebbende, zoo kan ‘t meermaels gebeuren: maer die deze verflaeuwing als een verscheurend wilt beest ontwijkt, zal in de wakkerheid van zijne opletinge ghestadich toeneemen. Plutarchus zeyt ergens, op de vraege, Waerom de Paerden, welke, ten tijde als zy noch veulens waren, door de Wolf vervolgt zijn geweest, veel snelder zijn als andere? dat zulx zijn kan, door dien de schrik hun in de jonckheyt de gewrichten versterkt, de zenuwen gerekt, en al die deelen, die tot het loopen dienen, bequaem heeft gemaeckt, waer doorze dan al haer leven andere in snelheyt overtreffen. Wy zeggen hier oock, dat de verflaeuwing in het opletten een woedende wolf is, en dat die geene, dieze in zijn jonkheyt door wakkerheyt ontloopt, alle andere zal voorby streeven. De gewoonte van opletten maekt het oordeel zeeker, en leent aen het oog een gewisse maetstok. (...) Zoo zal het oog met’er tijdt een passer verstrekken.713 [When one has thus equipped oneself, one should make it a habit always to draw with attention, and to do this so diligently, that one considers it a mortal sin, to ever weaken in it; for if one weakens only once, it may happen more often: but he who avoids this weakening as if it were a tearing wild beast, the zest for that attentiveness will steadily increase. Plutarch said somewhere, on the question, Why the Horses, who, when they were foals and were hunted by the Wolf, are much faster than others? That such a thing may be, because fright has strengthened their youthful joints, strained the nerves, and made all those parts fit, which are meant to run, by which they surpass others in speed all their lives. We therefore say here that the weakening in attention is a raging wolf, and that the one who escapes it in his youth by perseverance, will outstrip all others. The habit of observation makes the judgment certain and lends to the eye a sure yardstick. (...) Thus in time the eye will provide a compass]. In this view, therefore, making a painting is not so much the transformation of mind (‘true ideas’) into matter (‘apparent reality’) in a platonic way, from which art-historical interpretations emanate that attempt to ‘read back’ the ideas behind the painting. Apparently, in the early modern period, there are several conceptions of the art of painting side by side. Nor should it be understood as an ingenious ‘by himself’ creation of a painting, independent of examples from nature, as Michelangelo would have done according to Vasari.714 And this is because the eighteenth and nineteenth century connotation of term ‘genius’, understood as personal expression, does not exist in the early modern era, although the term is derived from the classical term ‘ingenium’ used until the early modern era, which refers to natural giftedness and innate talent.715 The difference between ‘naer het leven’ [after life] and ‘uyt den geest’ [from the mind or spirit], Alpers emphasizes, ‘do not involve distinctions between real and ideal, between physical and mental, but rather distinguish between different sources of visual perception’.716 108 The rules of observation and drawing (disegno) are thus connected in the early modern art of painting: they form the undisputed foundation by which seeing and judging are physically imprinted in eye and hand. 717 From Alberti onward, the central role of the art of drawing as the basis for the establishment of the art of painting (or ‘wel koloreeren’ [colore], coloring) is repeatedly emphasized.718 Wel koloreere is als’t gebouw op de grondvest van de Teykenkonst: ‘En even gelijk de Teykening de waere grondvest van de Schilderkonst geacht wort, zonder welkers vasticheit zy kreupel en verminkt is; zoo is de konst van wel koloreeren wel by een schoon gebouw te vergelijken, zonder welke de Teykenkonst van haere voornaemste versieringen ontbloot blijft. En gelijk een gebouw zonder vaste grondvest, hoe schoon opgesmuckt, ontstelt, vervalt, en te niet wort; zoo blijft de deugd van een goede gronvest door onbequame timmering ongeacht (...) Want schoon ‘er veele konsten op de Teykenkonst gefondeert zijn, zoo en is’er geene, die dezelve tot zoo hoog een top van volmaektheit opvoert, als wanneer zy een waerdich voorwerp verbeelt hebbende, door het wel koloreeren geholpen, een wonderwaerdig Schildery maekt. Daer en tegen, wanneer de koloreering valsch is, zoo zouden mooglijk de trekken en linien wel goet konnen zijn, maer zy beelden niet uit ‘t geen zy anders vermogen, dat is, de natuer gelijk en onfeylbaer te vertoonen, welke de ware Schilderkonst in haer volmaekten graedt stoutelijk belooft.719 [Well-coloring is like the building on the foundation of the Art of Drawing: And just as Drawing is considered the true foundation of the Art of Painting, without whose firmness it is crippled and mutilated; so the Art of well-coloring is also to be compared to a beautiful building, without which the Art of Drawing remains deprived of its principal ornaments. And just as a building without a solid foundation, however beautifully adorned, disintegrates, decays, and falls to pieces; so too by unsuitable panelling one fails to heed the virtue of a good foundation (...) For although many arts are founded on the Art of Drawing, there is none that itself reaches such a high summit of perfection, then when it depicts a worthy object, helped by well-coloring, makes an admirable Painting. On the other hand, when the coloring is false, that possibly the strokes and lines could be good, but they do not portray what they are otherwise capable of, that is, exhibit nature equal and infallible, which the true Art of Painting in its perfect stage boldly promises]. Only on the basis of the regular drawing exercises can the painter take the next step and appropriate the rules of painting. A pupil who does not start drawing or who cannot master drawing, will do poorly as a painter.720 Many painters continue to draw all their lives, says Van Hoogstraten. But all this does not mean that the art of drawing should keep a painter away from the brush for too long. ‘Want het schilderen zal aen het teykenen geen hinder doen, maer veel eer den geest des Teykenaers verquikken’ [For painting will not hinder drawing, but rather invigorate the mind of the Drawers].721 109 Observing and drawing ‘lichamen’ [bodies] (things, objects, living and inanimate creatures) falls apart in various aspects of early modern painting: contour, field, composition and localization on the flat plane. When we look at things, Alberti writes, we see that they hold a certain place. The painter should draw a line as thin as possible around this place, so that the rupture in the flat plane is as small as possible.722 The contour is also referred to as ‘outline’, ‘sketch’, ‘edge’, ‘zoom’ or ‘horizon’ of a body or ‘draft of the whole’.723 Without this circumference, which consists of one or more lines and which encompasses the body in ‘broad lines’, the body can never resemble something from Nature.724 In order to be able to observe the contour as best as possible, Goeree and Van Hoogstraten warn that one should not be tempted to identify the bodies one is looking at. From a few lines one can easily recognize animals, human beings or trees.725 This recognition quickly seduces to switch to another level, that of meaning. Once one has entered the semantic field, the ‘visual image’ is lost from sight. By looking with eyes half squinted, on the other hand, one can concentrate on the distinction between the parts of the body and indicate their formal properties.726 Once the circumference is clear, one can fully open one’s eyes again and determine that a body consists of an arrangement of parties or fields. 727 The ‘image’ of a body, for example, can be made up of round, elongated, triangular, square, curved or oblique fields.728 The size of those fields can be enormous (as in the case of a building or colossal sculpture), but also minimal (as in the case of living beings).729 Dat is, men moet in ‘t beschouwen van alle voorwerpen of lichamen, diemen door de Teikenkunst op het juiste niet wil na-bootsen, nauwkeurig aanmerken, wat dit of dat voor een gedaante in sijn generale klomp gelijkt; ofze rondagtig, of langwerpig, drie of vierkant, scheef ofte schuins, of van een ander generale gedaante is: en dit salmen alderbest met een half toegenepen of schemerende oog konnen onderscheiden, sonder agt te geven op enige bysondere partyen of deelen die aan dat lichaam souden mogen wesen; (...). Men moet in desen selfs niet eens willen denken wat soodanige generale klompen of parrtyen, die wy moeten navolgen, in haar selven zijn, te weten, of het een mensch, of een dier, of hoofd, of arm of been is, want dat veroorsaakt dikmaal dat wy tot die dingen yets uyt onsen geest daar by doen, sonder dat wy sulks soodanig in ons Principaal beschouwen, en dat geschied om dat ons door d’algemeene kennis die wy van de voorwerpen hebben, altijd eenige kennelijke figuur of denk-beeld, in de gedagten speeld. (...) En staat wel te noteeren, dat, wanneermen in ‘t eerste te veel agt geeft op de kleinigheden en mindere partijkens, datmen dan belet wordt het Generaal wel te sien. Daar is niets dat gelijken kan te wesen, het gene dat het is, of dat het zijn molet, sonder d’omtrek van sijn generale klomp; want dat besluit de partyen uyt welk het Genraal bestaat, binnen den boord van sijn omtrek; even als een vierkanten blok, sijn stoffe, sijn grootte, sijn swaarte, sijn koleur en figuur binnen den omtrek van sijn gelijk-zijdige hoeken en kanten bepaald.730 110 [That is to say, in considering all objects or bodies, which one does not want to follow in the art of drawing, one should carefully note what this or that resembles for a shape in its general clump; whether it is roundish, or oblong, three or square, oblique or slanting, or of some other general shape; and this one will be able to discern best with a half squeezed or shielded eye, without regard to any particular parties or parts that might be on that body; (…). In this respect one should not even want to think what such general clumps or parts, which we have to follow, are in themselves, to know whether it is a human being, or an animal, or head, or arm or leg, for that often causes us to add to these things something from our minds, without considering it as such in our Principal Case, and that happens because of the general knowledge we have of the objects, we always have a recognizable figure or idea, playing in our minds. And it should be noted, that if at the beginning one pays too much attention to the minor details and parties, one is then prevented from seeing the General well. There is nothing that can be the same, that which it is, or that which it must be, without the outline of its general clump; for that encloses the parts of which the general is made up, within the border of its outline; just as a square block, its substance, its size, its heaviness, its color and figure within the perimeter of its equal-sided angles and sides determined]. The importance of drawing for the art of painting is underlined by many early modern authors. The art of drawing mediates between the shapes of Nature that the eye perceives and the composition that eventually emerges on the flat plane. Before his discussion of drawing, Alberti defines some concepts from Euclidean geometry: the ‘point’ (a visible but otherwise indivisible figure, without length or width), the ‘line’ (a lengthwise divisible figure, without width, consisting of connected points, which can be straight or curved). And finally, a ‘field’ with which he indicates the external part of a body. ‘In fact, Alberti and Leonardo da Vinci assume that reality and drawing have a common foundation in mathematics. After all, when an artist understands that he perceives real things as compositions of points, lines, planes and bodies, he also understands of what the points, lines, planes and bodies drawn by him may be an equivalent. On this elementary mathematics Alberti bases his theory of the perception of the make-up of things in reality and his theory of the analogous make-up of a drawing’.731 The field consists of many lines, like woven threads together to form a rug: a line pattern determined by its length and width.732 According to Alberti, the field has two pertinent properties. First, the already mentioned contour that delimits a field and that can be straight, curved or a combination thereof. 733 The second characteristic concerns the ‘back’ of the field and falls into four varieties. Their visual difference lies in the proportion of light and shadow they exhibit and is clearly demonstrated by Nature.734 A field can be flat (such as the water surface), hollow (such as the inside of an eggshell), spherical or a composition of these (such as the outside of a column). 735 By changing these two properties – 111 contour and back – the field itself undergoes a change. In all other cases, a change in exposure or a change in the position of the eye will cause the field to change. 736 With early modern authors, the arrangement, composition or ordinance of fields is bound to a large number of rules.737 Alberti describes how, starting from the primary fields, a body part is formed, then the body parts are joined together to form a body and finally how different bodies are brought together in an appropriate manner in a painted tableau.738 An object, animal or human sprouts from a correct selection and arrangement of the appropriate fields. The same goes for De Hooch’s bodies. No matter how small or large they are, bodies consist of fields determined by contour, back and color. Fireplaces, chairs and tables, for example, are ‘put in the paint’ by De Hooch with evert-changing surfaces, shades of color, different dark and light areas. 739 Although such objects keep popping up in De Hooch’s chamber scapes, they always differ in ‘quality’, in ‘how they appear’. In this way, a new part of a body can be shown each time: a chair or cradle can be presented from the front, then again from the side (bp.4.60.3-5). A glass carafe may be seen from the front here and viewed from above elsewhere. Sometimes the closed outside of a bedstead and sometimes the inside is displayed (bp.4.40). Overly uneven fields and contrasts should be avoided when assembling so that a body part, such as a face, is formed.740 A body sprouts from an appropriate position, both from the parts of the body among themselves as from their spread on the flat plane of the canvas. Misplaced parties go against Nature and form bodies that cannot exist. Van Hoogstraten explains this as follows: Deze kunst van ordineeren zullen wy met Duitsche woorden noemen, een wisse treffing der medevoeglijkheyt, overeendracht, en maetschiklijkheyt; zonder welke alles verwart en vol strijt is. Hoe noodich het nu is, dat de geest tot dezen Regel der vindingen in ‘t werk te stellen bequaem zy, is licht te begrijpen. (...) Even gelijk alle de byzondere gedeeltens van een gegoote figuur, in een gietwinkel overhoop leggende, niet machtich zijne en beelt op te maken, tenzy yder lit in zijn eygen gewricht geplaetst worde. Want het zal een afkeerlijk monsterdier uitmaken, indien men de deelen mis neemt, en een oor in plaets van de neus voegt, of datmen een been, in steede van een arm aenzet. (...) De dingen, die buiten goede ordre zijn, kunnen niet bestaen, maer vallen overhoop.741 [This art of ordering we will call with Dutch words, a sure encounter of the coarrangement, shared carrying, and choosing according to the measure; without which everything is confused and full of struggle. How necessary it is now, that the mind should be able to employ this Rule in its findings, is easy to understand. (...) Just as all the particular parts of a cast figure, which are lumped together in a foundry, are incapable of putting together a sculpture, unless each member is placed in its own joint. For it will make a disgusting monster animal, if one takes the parts wrong, and adds an ear instead of the 112 nose, or that one puts a leg, instead of an arm. (...) The things which are out of order cannot exist but fall upside down]. So, a giant head should not be added to dwarf shoulders and children’s arms do not fit an adult face. Also one cannot change ear and nose or arm and leg with impunity.742 According to Van Hoogstraten (referring to Junius and Vitruvius), the capricious creatures that Breughel and Bosch made are monstrosities, monsters that violate Nature and the ‘waerschijnlijkheyt strijden’ [are in conflict with the probability] (bp.4.141, bp.4.146.3-7).743 The curiously composed creatures from mythology – such as the centaur who is partly a wild horse, partly a graceful woman – are, however, considered part of nature. 744 This is consistent with Da Vinci’s remark that a painter can only make convincing ‘monsters’ if he mixes elements derived from Nature. ‘Even if the artist wants to paint a purely fantastic monster, he must build it up from limbs observed in different animals, or it will not be convincing’.745 To join body parts in an appropriate and pleasing way (decorum), one can fully rely on nature, a connection also made by Stevin.746 Alberti writes: ‘It seems to me that there is no more certain and fitting way for one who wishes to pursue this than to take them from nature, keeping in mind in what way nature, marvelous artificer of things, has composed the planes in beautiful bodies. In imitating these it is well both to take great care and to think deeply about them’.747 Not only landscapes and buildings, but also living creatures, such as trees, animals and human beings, require careful observation of their constituents for the sake of the decorum.748 When body parts correspond in type, size, color and doing, Alberti considers them suitable.749 In the human body, knowledge of the muscles and bones is useful, for example, to know how to dress them in drapes. 750 Alberti and Van Mander therefore advise the painter to observe the physical properties of the human body, as well as their proportions.751 They point (in the same way as Stevin) to the usefulness of the Vitruvian use of a body part (foot or head) as a unit of measurement in the art of painting. 752 ‘Therefore, we ought to have a certain rule for the size of the members. In this measuring it would be useful to isolate each bone of the animal, on this add its muscles, then clothe all of it with its flesh’.753 Also with Goeree and Van Hoogstraten, this recurs as the advice to study the anatomy of the human body diligently (bp.4.121.1-3).754 In this way one can learn about the wonderful secrets of Nature, Van Hoogstraten emphasizes for example:755 De maetschiklijkheit zal veel lichter zijn om te begrijpen, als men de byzonderheden, waer toe menze gebruiken wil, eerst kent. Ik en wil u, ô mijn Schilderjeugt, hier in geen doolhof brengen, of u te ver buiten om leyden, gelijk tot noch toe gedaen is. De Ontleedingkunde laet ik de heelmeesters en geneesheren, maer mijn lessen streken alleen tot de Schilderkonst. Ik wil u alleen leeren ‘t geen u noodich om weeten is, dat licht geleert wort, 113 en groot voordeel toebrengt. Ik zal u in ‘t kort eerst een menschelijk geraemt beschrijven, op dat gy de schets van allerley buigingen der deelen te beter moogt leeren begrijpen. En wat ons verder onderwijs aengaet, ik zal u niet anders als een onbloedige ontleeding voorstellen, en alleen die spieren en musculen aenwijzen, die in ‘t beweegen der leeden, of rekken of zwellen: en blijven by de waerachtige schilderachtige spierkunde, zonder snijden of villen.756 [The arrangement according to the measure will be much easier to understand, if one first knows the particulars, to which one wants to use them. I do not wish to bring you, O Painter's Youth, into a maze here, or lead you too far outside, as has been done so far. The art of anatomy I leave to the healers and physicians, for my lessons address only the Art of Painting. I want to teach you only that which you need to know, which is easy to learn and of great use. I shall first describe to you in brief a human skeleton, that you may better understand the outline of all kinds of bending of the parts. As for our further teaching, I shall present you with nothing but a bloodless dissection and point out to you only those muscles and musculature which, in moving the members, stretch or swell: and we shall adhere to the true art of painting the muscles without cutting or skinning]. Van den Akker pointed out that studying anatomy was more a result of a different drawing procedure and not the cause of it. ‘If you don’t build a figure from readymade limbs, but from small contour segments or planes, you don’t have to remember countless shapes or have countless model drawings. Apparently, Alberti came up with that idea even before artists studied anatomy’.757 The limbs of living beings are characterized by age and sex, by movement, by color, by the work they do and by stirrings of the mind on the face (bp.4.109, bp.4.110, bp.4.112, bp.4.117).758 These aspects must be present and attuned in all parts of the body.759 Arms, legs, fingers and face must conform to the working of the body as a whole.760 If a body is young, all parts should attest to that; if it is old, then that should apply to all parties.761 The skin of a body should be even in color and tone in all limbs.762 All body parts shall conform to the work performed by a body (bp.4.129, bp.4.130, bp.4.132).763 A runner uses his feet and hands in a different way than a philosopher. It should not seem as if a soldier is doing the silent work of a monk, or a monk is doing the heavy work of a soldier. 764 The limbs of men are wild, agile and grand, those of women small, calm and discreet. Children’s bodies jump and tumble, old bodies wobble and seek support (bp.4.128).765 Clothing should also be appropriate to the sex, age and doing of a figure and draped appropriately over the body parts (bp.4.122). ‘It would not be suitable to dress Venus or Minerva in the rough wool cloak of a soldier; it would be the same to dress Mars or Jove in the clothes of a woman’.766 Finally: a dead body must be utterly lifeless to the last detail, drooping heavily and motionless (bp.4.116.8-9). Only a well-trained painter will be able to paint this most difficult 114 subject in Nature properly.767 The discerning painter will therefore seek advice from nature with an open eye and mind, which will teach him incessantly.768 When composing a body, a painter must then consider two things: first, the whole must show ‘welstand’ [well-balanced] through an appropriate movements of body parts, and second, the various types of bodies must be ‘in hun element’ [be in one’s element]. ‘Welstand’ in the early modern writings on the art of painting is not so much about depicting an increased inner civilization or physical discipline of certain social groups. A view held in various cultural-historical studies. ‘Painting, acting and rhetorics offered the Dutch elite a lofty but highly stylized self-image, in which the notions of civilité and honnêteté were raised to a world of their own,’ says Roodenburg.769 He argues that in early modern society there was an ‘increasing hierarchization’ which subjected the body to an ‘ever greater discipline and stylization’. These social meanings of all kinds of societal behaviors (‘like standing bent or erect or letting the head hang’) would have been depicted by painters and recorded by De Lairesse (1707).770 However, the link between the codes of etiquette (borrowed from the French manners books) and the rules of the art of painting dates from the beginning of the eighteenth century, when classicist art theory was formulated. The latter does not give a correct picture of the art of painting until 1700. In that sense it is not remarkable ‘that it was only De Lairesse who so emphatically addressed this visualization of social differences’.771 However, the early modern painters do not depict social development (in terms of ‘the process of increasing inner civilization’),772 but they apply the rules of the art of painting. Where authors like Van Mander refer to manner books, the references are always about appropriate poses in the classical sense: stemming from Nature and from what bodies do.773 The classic repertoire of gestures and poses, preserved in the Byzantine visual idiom, reached Europe in waves from the tenth century onwards and is regularly used for an appropriate evocation of the human figure.774 Alberti, Van Mander, Van Hoogstraten, Goeree and Biens explain the term ‘welstand’ as the natural posture of a body. They indicate the natural distribution of weights and counterweights that keep a body in balance. 775 Depending on the movement a body makes or the work it does (based on the forces of Nature that work on the different limbs) the different parts of the body counterbalance each other and are placed ‘kruiselings’ [crosswise].776 ‘Laet uwe beelden geen dromedarisgangen gaen, met het voortzetten van de geheele zijde’ [Don’t let your statues move like dromedaries, swaying sideways], warns Van Hoogstraten. ‘Men prijst kruisbeweging, ten zy het beeld iets heffe, of op de teenen staet’ [One praises the cross movement, unless the statue raises itself slightly, or stands on its toes]. ‘Welstand’ applies first and foremost to other living beings. Just as a four-footed animal or a bird does not fall over because it puts its legs down properly, so the painter must ensure that the human figure is visibly steady (bp.4.66, bp.4.67).777 If the painter arranges the limbs according to their weights, including the head as 115 the heaviest part, then the body is visually in ‘wel-stand’ [firmly standing, all body parts in balance, well-balanced].778 In this sense the term ‘welstand’ is related to the term ‘houding’ from the previous section (the balance in all color parts) and to ‘lijckzijdigheydt’ by Stevin and ‘concinnitas’ by Alberti. That’s why Goeree writes: Stel dien arm voor, welckers been meest agter uytkomt, en welkers been voorkomt, schikt dien arm meest achterwaards, invoegen u beelden niet gelijkelijk eene weg, maar kruis weegs hunne actien verrigten, alswaar van een voorbeeld in den ganck van alle viervoetige beesten te bespeuren is, waar uyt den welstand der beelden eenigsints kan gegist worden. In het voor, agter ofte ter zijden overbuigen, moetmen de beelden door tegengewigt, en swaarte van eenige andere leden in haar balans houden, op datze mogelijk en vast in hare actie staan, want een beeld verder buiten sijn gewicht-punt geweken, als zijn tegenwigt kan ophalen; moet nootsakelijk daar heen vallen; ten zy het zig elders aan vast houd, welk dese misslag een regelmaat voor-schrijft. En dewijl aan dese kennis seer veel gelegen is, werd ook van ons ten hoogsten aangeraden de nature van die dingen wel te ondersoeken, nadien de geheele welstand van alle beelden daar van afhangt. Men kan door den regel van wigt en tegenwigt wel te observeeren, alsints verhoeden dat de beelden niet onnatuurlijk werken, noch al staande of zittende niet overhoop schijnen te tuymelen. Ook doet de kennis hier van met een groot vermaak beschowuen, hoe wonderlijk de natuur in ‘t leven zig selven weet te behelpen, om het eene gedeelte des lighaams tot behulp van het andere te doen verstrekken, en onder de streep of linie van beweging, in opstal te houden.779 [Imagine the arm of the leg that is placed most backward, and of the leg that comes forward with the arm backward, so that your images do not go on the same side in the same way, but do their work crosswise, as can be seen, for example, in the walk of all four-footed beasts, from which the balanced stability of the images can be somewhat suspected. In bending forward, bending backward, or bending sideways, images must be balanced by counterweight and weight of some other members, that they may be possible and firm in their action, for if an image is farther from its point of weight, its counterweight will come up; and it will necessarily fall to that side; unless it holds on elsewhere, so that from this misconception arises a rule. And since this knowledge is very much required, it is also strongly recommended that the nature of these things be thoroughly examined, because the whole balanced standing of all figures depends on it. One can, by properly observing the rule of weight and counterbalance, definitely prevent the figures from working unnaturally, so that the standing or sitting figures do not seem to tumble upside down. Also, the knowledge of this shows with great pleasure, how wonderfully nature in life knows how to help herself, to bring one part of the body to the aid of the other, and to keep the body, in terms of line or line of motion, upright]. Alberti also emphasizes that the limbs must show mobility if a body is not to fall over (raised hands, raised fingers, kneeling and bending members). But the 116 shortening or backward deviation of limbs should never be too severe or exaggerated.780 The excessive twisting of figures, in which chest and loins are visible at the same time, is unnatural and therefore inappropriate. 781 But put in the right place, the ‘moving’ parts of the body give elegance, beauty and grace to the image as a whole.782 The ‘dansleiding’ [art of dancing, choreography] says Van Hoogstraten, ‘dat is, de welstandige en bevallijke beweeging der Beelden’ [that is the well-balanced and graceful movement of Images], provides a mutual ‘grace’ between the moving limbs. Van Hoogstraten refers both to the gestures of actors in the ‘kamerspel’ [theater piece played in a closed circle] as well as to the wellconsidered gestures of orators.783 In other words, the elegance or grace that Van Hoogstraten (the ‘grazia’ mentioned by Alberti and Vasari) considers so necessary in the art of painting (because of the emotions they evoke in the viewer) is not derived simply from harmoniously placed parts or a good drawing. Grace comes more specific from applying ‘welstand’ [well-balanced] through knowledge of ‘dansleiding’ [the art of dancing].784 Seventeenth-century writers in Holland also point to the need not to make a mess of arms and legs, but to have them contribute to the work of the body as a whole.785 De Hooch shows a small selection of the poses that human figures can take and then runs a large number of variations and edits on them. The extent to which the figures correspond to each other, how certain characteristics are repeated over and over again, and how the figures can thus be narrowed down to a few stereotypes, only becomes apparent when we look at the corpus as a whole. 786 The facial expressions also show little differences (bp.4.68-bp.4.73).787 De Hooch presents his figures standing or sitting. They can be seen frontal, on the back or from the side. Children are shown frontally or on the back, or from the side (both left and right) and sometimes in between. Usually the child is standing, sometimes it’s kneeling. In most cases, it raises an arm: it has something in its hand (cob stick, hoop, toll stick, apple, jug, dog) or reaches out to an adult female (bp.4.70). There are three categories of ‘women’ in De Hooch’s paintings. ‘Mother with baby’, ‘young woman with glass, letter or musical instrument’ and ‘maidservant with household goods’.788 Many ‘mothers’ are shown frontally or from the side, but often sitting broadly and dressed in glowing fabrics (bp.4.73). The headscarf falls loose and capacious, sometimes she has her hair up or wears a tight cap (bp.4.68.4,5,16-25).789 She is often dressed in a house coat trimmed with fur (bp.4.73.3,8,9,11). She does all kinds of housework that can be done sitting down (a baby gets the breast, sits on her lap, has just been placed in the crib; she is delousing or combing a child, busy sewing, preparing food, spinning). Standing ‘women of the house’ have more often been shown from the side and sometimes from behind (bp.4.72.5 and 6). Even then they are busy: they take bread from a boy at the door, give instructions to a maid, give a jug to a child, make a bed or put away the linen. Sometimes they read a letter. Young women sit and stand 117 (usually frontal or sideways) and are often in the company of one or more youngsters. Sometimes they grope their own ample and colorful clothes, sometimes they drink a glass or pour it to someone else (bp.4.72). But they also read a letter or book, make music or play cards. The ‘maidservant’ is exclusively at work (she is busy with broom and bucket, with sewing or is engaged in fetching or preparing food). She is often narrow and slightly curved in stature (bp.4.71). In some cases, she has something to do with a child. Finally, male characters are not only adorned with hats outdoors, but also indoors. Usually, they sit with glass or pipe in their hand. Often, they can be seen on the back and when they are frontal in view, they can be seen far away or only partially. Although living bodies move in many ways, the painter can only depict seven movements on the canvas. Alberti lists them: up and down, to the right and to the left, forwards and backwards and circular. Others say it after him. 790 These seven movements cause some parts of the body to come forward, others to swerve, some to narrow and others to shorten. ‘Some bodies are placed towards us, others away from us, and in one body some parts appear to the observer, some drawn back, others high and others low’.791 Since Greek painting, the movability of body parts following nature has been a conventional affair. Indeed, the shortening and narrowing of body parts impairs the intact body (as advocated in the Egyptian images), in favor of an appropriate rendering of the body following Nature.792 Such interventions occur first in the Greek-antique period, especially on dishes, and are later also known from Roman murals and mosaics. In the Middle Ages, this Greek conventionality of movability appeared at different times. Not only in Byzantine art, where it has a great continuity, but also in the various renaissances of Western culture. And not only in painting, but also in sculpture. 793 In De Hooch’s work these movements return in modified form. Instead of grand dramatic gestures like in many Renaissance paintings, he is concerned with fine locomotion. Alberti’s seven movements have been made suitable for a chamber in the house. Here an arm is raised to pour a glass, there to hand over a piece of money, sometimes to braid a child’s hair, sometimes to hold a book (bp.4.76 - bp.4.80). Arm and hand are stretching out: up, down, sideways, sometimes straight, sometimes curved. A hand grabs a doorknob, holds an apple skin, a handle, a pipe, a cob stick or clasps a fruit or a hat. Here the fingers close around a pair of pliers to poke the fire, there they grope a letter or are ironing sheets, strumming a lute, tying the cord of a bodice, clasping another hand or touching a thimble.794 Tiny gestures appropriate for small objects. In early modern times, body parts are depicted conventionally and according to schemata. On limbs, such as knees and elbows, a remarkable shortening often occurs. However, cultural historians have interpreted such body parts as a sign of the power conception that the person portrayed advocates, as in the case of Spicer who spoke of a ‘Renaissance elbow’ (bp.4.81.1-3).795 The starting point of her 118 exemplary analysis is that the etiquette of ritual and everyday life is the code of conduct on which portrait painters rely. According to Spicer, the artist (consciously or unconsciously) makes use of body language, the non-verbal communication as it is customary in a certain culture to express one’s own identity. According to her, the male Renaissance elbow became more and more assertive in the course of the early modern period. 796 Thus, this body language expresses boldness, which is both domineering and protective.797 The provocative climax is given to the male elbow in early seventeenth-century painting in Italy and the Netherlands: the man who defiantly puts his hand in his side, culmination in ‘arms akimbo’. Spicer connects this new role of the elbow in the painting of men with two things. Firstly, with the development in the intellectual self-awareness of the Renaissance as a whole, in which the artist incorporates the new social codes into the pictorial system. Secondly, with a change in aesthetics, as a result of which in the early modern period the visual language shifts to creating a painterly illusion, resulting in a spatial continuum between the viewer and the figure portrayed. The aesthetic shift underscores in her vision the new social self-awareness.798 Apart from the on the Norbert Elias based view on the history of Western civilization, apart from the prevailing idea that perspective introduces a new kind of ‘experience of space’,799 apart from the suggestion that since the Renaissance the expressive elbows have remained an integral part of ‘our’ gesture repertoire,800 apart from the biological basis of such ‘cultural’ gestures,801 I just want to point out here that in these reasonings one assumes that an image (painting or photograph)802 is ‘transparent’ and shows the prevailing body language automatically.803 Shouldn’t the question first be asked what the pictorial system consists of and then how this relates to ‘society’? To say something about, for example, ‘the elbow’ in early modern paintings, it is important to know what rules are applied in the art of painting. Instead of consulting etiquette books, it is more obvious to study early modern writings on the art of painting. The elbow (like all other hinged body parts) is a special part for the early modern painter. A lifted thigh, a kink in the knee, a flexed shoulder, a twisted wrist, or a neck that tends. They are special because they are body parts that are pre-eminently good for testing the art of painting and showing mastery. If you look at painting from this early modern point of view, you will see the elbow in all sorts of poses. The elbow is good for lifting the glass, but also for holding a pipe or a book or for supporting the head while sleeping (bp.4.7.1 and 3, bp.4.114, bp.4.115, bp.4.117.2, 3, 11-13). Elbows can be used in the art of painting to depict how someone carries a bottle, pushes a snowball or holds a swing (bp.3.12.1, bp.4.126.19). They are also useful in depicting passions, as known from various ‘tronies’ [facial mask] that depict ‘gramschap’ [wrath] or ‘moed’ [courage] (bp.4.82).804 The early modern period is teeming with such painted and drawn elbows in the most diverse postures and workings. Sometimes 119 alone, often combined with other rotating body parts. The challenging elbow that Spicer sees as a meaningful social signal of the status of the man depicted is in the first place a separate aspect of the art of painting that must be appropriated step by step by the painter. That drawn and painted elbows are flat and consist of a succession of different fields (bp.4.85) is apparent when, like the painter, we are not directly searching for recognition, but try to see how it is possible for us to see an elbow in the paint, the lines, the contours, the outline, the light nuances and shadows. Then it is striking that not (as Spicer states) only powerful men possess prominent elbows.805 The ‘zwakkere, en daerom nederiger geslacht’ [weaker, and therefore more modest sex] of women, but also saints, nudes, children and babies have pronounced elbows (bp.4.83, bp.4.84).806 Finally, as is customary in historical studies, Spicer reproduces her examples in black and white. However, the elbows she displays often consist of a sleeve that is exceptionally rich in fabric. The so-called ‘stofuitdrukking’ [fabric expression] is quickly seen as an additional sign of the powerful status of the person depicted.807 But starting from the early modern writings on painting, a reversal in thinking is also necessary here: it is not so much the powerful men who occupy the minds of the painters, but the pigments (bp.4.75). Not only the curved elbow is painted, but especially the sleeve. Falling wide, folding in the many wrinkles and corners, with intricate fabric patterns and set with precious stones, with a sea of colors from the contrasting ‘changeant’ fabrics, which locally shine and reflect the light, the elbow is ideally suited for the painter to cover the flat plane of the canvas with colors (bp.4.85).808 That’s why the painted, fabriccovered, color-coated, bulging and fanning out elbows are so exorbitantly imposing. That’s why Van Mieris the Elder in The Art of Painting places the shoulder and elbow so centrally, focusing on how the fabric falls, how the light plays on the fabric and the colors, presented and carried by the character shown. That’ why painters such as Dürer and Van Hoogstraten, as well as Titian, Rembrandt, Van Mieris the Elder and Judith Leyster, present themselves in their self-portraits precisely by means of an elbow in the foreground wrapped by beautiful and rich fabric that draws all the attention to itself. (bp.4.86, bp.4.84.3).809 For they are proud, as masters of painting with their colorfully painted elbows as a test case.810 When we return to De Hooch’s paintings after this excursion, we see that deformations regularly occur in the body parts. Like the strange arm of the girl who opens the door (bp.4.23.1). Other body parts that are depicted ‘in verkort’ [in abridged], such as arms, heads and shoes, are also unnatural in shape (bp.4.17.3, bp.4.18.2, bp.4.26.2). In other cases, De Hooch avoids this conventional shortening by placing bodies with moveable parts parallel or transverse to the picture plane (bp.4.11.2, bp.4.15.2). So, in De Hooch’s paintings, the coded gestures are also part of the simple choreography of the chamber scape, in which 120 human bodies are placed according to a limited number of rules. This could explain to a large extent the stiffness of his characters that is so often noticed. In comparison, for example, the dogs on his canvases show more movement. Head, legs and tail often go in different directions at the same time (bp.4.67). 811 Alberti points out that inanimate things have the same motions as living 812 beings. The wind is able to wave locks of hair and tree branches, make ferns sway, blow up robes and set folds in motion:813 The seven movements are especially pleasing in hair where part of it turns in spirals as if wishing to knot itselfs, waves in the air like flames, twines around itself like a serpent, while part rises here, part there. In the same way branches twist themselves now up, now down, now away, now near, the parts contorting themselves like ropes. Folds act in the same way, emerging like the branches from the trunk of a tree. In this they adhere to the seven movements so that no part of the cloth is bare of movement. As I have noted, movements should be moderated and sweet. They should appear graceful to the observer rather than a marvel of study. However, where we should like to find movement in the draperies, cloth is by nature heavy and falls to the earth. In De Hooch’s paintings, more than in the human figures with their minimal movements, more than in the dogs and cats, an increased activity in drapes is evident. Textiles can wrinkle and flood in different directions at the same time: curtains blowing open, flapping net curtains, pulled-up skirts, pleated petticoats, ripples in headscarves and pant legs popping out of boots (bp.4.87). The pushedup, drifting ‘Turkish’ tapestries that occupy many a table (sometimes with a white folded sheet on a corner) are also an example of this (bp.4.64.11-14, bp.4.65). The same goes for the cloaks that men casually throw over their shoulders, chairs and fences (bp.4.88). Draperies seem (as in the 13th and 14th centuries in sculpture and throughout early modern painting, bp.4.91, bp.4.91)814 to live a life of their own, independent of the human body they dress, the furniture they cover, the walls they hang from to or the windows through which light enters (bp.4.75). They form idiosyncratic textile landscapes that seem to obey their own rules of Nature, such as here and there a ‘skirt’ that seems to float in the chamber with its immobile angularity (bp.4.74). The drapery comes to life through the play of light and shadow, color and tint itself. She shows all her deep and flat folds, sharp and faint pleats – depending on whether it is velvet or satin, thick knotted carpet, fragile lace curtains, or an ironed tablecloth with the ‘fold’ still pressed into it. Showing the visual qualities of clothing fabrics made it attractive for early modern painters to paint women with spread legs and to cover them with all kinds of extra garments in order to be able to paint all possible folds (bp.4.74.1-4). As Biens writes:815 121 Voorts wacht u van de leden te seer verwronghen te stellen, de beenen te wijdt van malkanderen, besonder der vrouwen, dat haer niet en past; maer in het sitten meughen haer knyen wel wijdt van malkanderen spreyden, ghevende alsoo eenen breeden schoot. (...) Brenghende de meeste ployen over de hol invallende leeden, besonderlijck in ‘t bucken ende drayen, de schooten der sittende vrouwen meughen wel breedt en ghespannen gemaeckt zijn, ende moet men wel toesien oft de kleedinghen laken, linnen, sijden, damassen, grofgreynen, fluweelen oft yet dierghelijcken zijn. [Furthermore, beware of setting the members of the body too much twisted, the legs too wide apart, especially women, because that does not suit her; but in sitting she may spread her knees wide apart, giving a wide lap. (...) By placing most of the folds over the hollow parts that fall inward, especially when bending and turning, the lap of the seated women can be made wide and elaborate, and care should be taken that the clothing is of wool, linen, silk, damask, coarse fabric, velvet or the like]. In other words, the ‘stiffness’ that, according to literature, is so characteristic of De Hooch’s characters stems from the priority he gives to depicting the various types of textile.816 Textiles regularly obscures the view of his figures. Apart from being able to paint inanimate or inanimate bodies, the painter must be able to make a depiction consisting of various. This has to do with the rule that the bodies are ‘in hun element’ [be in one’s element].817 A painted depiction is called pleasant when it shows an appropriate abundance (copia) and a large variety or alternation (varietas) of bodies.818 Both requirements also apply to bodies that have several uniform parts (a tree with branches, a drapery with folds or a head with hairs). Unnecessary excess as well as dull sameness or singular solitude are invariably rejected by the authors. 819 A painter who paints a huge dish of purely juicy peaches would do better to provide the same dish with different fruits.820 A varied combination of young and old, man and woman, dog and horse, landscape and buildings forms the most pleasant tableau. This is certainly true when bodies differ in stature and pose: one sits, the other stands upright, alternating figures ‘en face’, and ‘en profil’, while feet and legs, hands and fingers, folds and creases are also mutually differentiated.821 Die een gastmael aengenaem maeken wil, moet nae verandering van spijzen omzien: want wie zal zeggen wel getrakteert te zijn, die men niet anders dan enkel patrijzen, of anders fazanten, heeft voorgezet? (...) verandering van spijs maekt nieuwen eetlust, zoo vermaekt zich het ooge in veel verschillende zaken. Zie maer toe, dat die verschillentheyt geen strydicheyt invoert, maer dat’er de minzaeme Harmonie blijve.822 [Those who wish to make a pleasant guest meal must pay close attention to variety in the food: for who will say that they have been well treated, if they are served nothing but only partridges, or only pheasants? (…) Change of food makes new appetite, and the eye also 122 rejoices in a variety of things. But see to it that this variety does not introduce conflict, and that there remains the amiable Harmony]. In order to group several bodies into a suitable tableau, a second principle has to be met: all things on the flat plane have to be ‘in zijn eygen Element plaetsen’ [should be placed in one’s own Element], as Van Hoogstraten calls it. 823 The ‘decorum’ must be observed in all parts of a painted depiction, says Da Vinci. The term ‘gepastheid’ [appropriate] we have already come across at Vitruvius and Stevin and in this context referred to the impeccable appearance of an artefact (building or painting) that has been made according to the rules of art: by following current rules, custom or according to Nature.824 ‘Observe Decorum, that is to say the suitability of action, dress, setting and circumstances to the dignity or lowliness of the things which you wish to present. Let a king be dignified in his beard, his mien and his dress; let the place be rich, and let the attendants stand with reverence and admiration, in clothes worthy of and appropriate to the dignity of a royal court’.825 Everything that does not belong to the depiction of a case is absurd, can be reprimanded and should be avoided, according to Van Hoogstraten.826 ‘Appropriateness’ in this context therefore does not refer to the depiction of social conventions in a painting. ‘Appropriateness’ refers to following pictorial conventions that are prescribed, traditionally handed down or imposed by Nature. The examples given by the early modern authors underline this. It would be absurd, Alberti observes, if in a painting of ferocious centaurs fighting each other after a meal, there were an intact bottle of wine somewhere.827 Equally inappropriate is the mixing of ‘elements’, such as when a painter places sacred and pagan matters in the same painting. This is the case, for example, in Rembrandt’s depiction of a sermon by John in which the dog ‘op een onstichtelijke wijze een teef besprong’ [in an offensive manner jumped a bitch].828 Van Hoogstraten does not so much reprimand the scene of the dogs (which is a natural phenomenon), but when it is added to a biblical tale: then he considers it inappropriate.829 Such misplacements show, according to early modern authors, the incompetence of the painter in question. The same is true of the painter of the canvas on which a slimy fish was painted on a beautiful and sensuous velvet robe: Zeker Schilder tot Amsterdam had laetst een lustigen wijnroomer op een tafel wonderlijk bekoorlijk afgemaelt: Wat meer? hy had’er ook een heerlijk fluweelen kleet onder geschildert: dit mocht noch passeeren: maer op dit zindelijk Tafelkleet had hy eenige slymerige Schelvis geschildert. Waer uit men besluyten most, dat dezen Schilder een slordich huishouder most zijn: want wie had oyt zoo vuilen slet in zijn keuken, die de morssige vis op fulp of fluweel zouw neerleggen?830 123 [Certain Painter to Amsterdam had recently painted a fine wine glass on a table wonderfully charming: And what else? he had also painted a lovely velvet cloth under it: this we can approve: but on this refined Tablecloth he had painted a slimy Haddock. From which one had to conclude, that this Painter had to be an unseemly housekeeper: for whoever had such a filthy person in his kitchen, who would lay down the messy fish on plush or velvet?] Unsuitable joining of parts therefore leads to a reprehensible and condemnable painting. To avoid errors in decorum, early modern writers recommended that painters use standard narratives in which time, place, and types of bodies are set.831 To prevent misplaced paintings Van Hoogstraten advises to consult the idiom. For, says Van Hoogstraten, it is edifying to give the dying Mary a rosary, but chronologically it is incorrect because this Catholic invention is from centuries later.832 Cesare Ripa has written extensively about this idiom and has built a whole collection with ‘appropriate contexts’ in which characters, attributes, gestures and circumstances are combined in a fixed and meaningful way. 833 It is even better – instead of striving for an finding of one’s own making – to rely on ready-to-use inventions for the composition.834 Poets, orators and other scholars can help painters, Alberti emphasizes.835 Reading good books, old and new histories can assist the painter in choosing a scene. 836 Particularly antique, mythological and biblical tales lend themselves to this. Painters are advised to read such ‘historien’ stories carefully, especially in view of the details.837 Alberti points out the practical clues that can be derived from this, such as the number, sex and age of human figures, the size of ears, the colors of a person’s face, the gestures, the objects one holds and the nature of the robes they wear: Invention is praised when one reads the description of Calumny which Lucian recounts was painted by Apelles. I do not think it is alien to our subject. I will narrate it here in order to point out to painters where they ought to be most aware and careful in their inventions. In this painting there was a man with very large ears. Near him, on either side, stood two women, one called Ignorance, the other Suspicion. Farther, on the other side, came Calumny, a woman who appeared most beautiful but seemed too crafty in the face. In het right hand she held a lighted torch, with the other hand she dragged by the hair a young man who held up his arms to heaven. There was also a man, pale, ugly, all filthy and with an iniquitous aspect, who could be compared to one who has become thin and feverish with long fatigues on the fields of battle; he was the guide of Calumny and was called Hatred. And there were two other women, serving women of Calumny who arranged her ornaments and robes. They were called Envy and Fraud. Behind these was Pentinence, a woman dressed in funeral robes, who stood as if completely dejected. Behind her followed a young girl, shameful and modest, called Truth. If this story pleased as it was being told, think how 124 much pleasure and delight there must have been in seeing it painted by the hand of Apelles.838 Van Hoogstraten refers – even more so than Alberti – to all kinds of mythological and biblical stories. Not so much because of a moral, but to underscore that based on such a story, everything in a painted depiction is treated with visual consistency. The importance of these standard narratives does not lie in evoking a high quality symbolism (which was implied), but in helping the painter to make the right choice (of certain fabrics, specific colors, particular bodies and certain emotions) so that the painter is able to make a well and appropriately painted depiction. The evocative description (ekphrasis), which in classical thought primarily serves as a rhetorical means to evoke a lively image in the listener, 839 serves in the early modern writings on painting primarily as a finding place for coherent and appropriate depictions.840 For example, the painter must know that ‘Gramschap’ [wrath] is accompanied by an ugly face, with hair standing upright, shuddering limbs, and a misshapen robe. But also, that Romans do not sit at the table at a feast but lie down on their left elbow: ‘d’eerste met de rug tegen een peluwe, en vervolgens nae malkander; want de tweede lach met zijn rug zoo tegens den eersten aen, dat hy met zijn hooft zijn boezen bereykte, en de derde lach wederom zoo tegen den tweeden’ [the first lay with his back against a pillow, and then in succession; for the second lay with his back so against the first that he touched his bosom with his head, and the third again lay so against the second].841 Van Hoogstraten writes that a painter must pay attention to three (classical) things in a depiction: the characters of a history, the matter at stake in that history, and he must fathom time, place and circumstances. 842 Time and place, characters and gestures, plot and circumstances are fixed in their linear connection. The painter – who is more free than the historian who has to follow the correct order – must choose a few elements from the story and then arrange them on the flat plane.843 With judgment he has to settle things, just as long as he weighs and weighs until he has found the ‘middelwech’ [the golden mean] and a pleasant, appropriate performance emerges.844 This view is reminiscent of Cats’ statements, both with regard to the mind and to poetics. Returning to existing narratives, painters can concentrate on their actual task: ‘het schilderachtich ordineeren’ [arranging according to the rules of the art of painting] of a range of bodies, by means of a correct shading of pigments, a proper arrangement of light and shadow and a regulated arrangement of the flat plane on which everything is given its place.845 Grouping different bodies in a painted tableau therefore implies three 846 things. First of all, for the bodies to be ‘in their own element’, they have to show some ‘maagschap’ [kinship]. The diversity that the painter takes care of should therefore not end in conflict. 847 On the contrary, the bodies, objects, flora and fauna that are juxtaposed on the image plane must be friends. 848 Therefore, it 125 is inappropriate to put species that dislike each other, such as lion and wild boar, next to each other on a trough.849 Secondly, the bodies must be in the right proportion to each other.850 The bodies must be aligned with each other. A horse should not appear larger than the stable it is standing next to; a gate or door no smaller than the person who wants to pass through it. It would be foolish to ignore the difference in Nature by painting elephant and mouse, fly and camel, dog and horse equally large side by side. 851 The painter must thus pay heed to Nature.852 The third issue concerns the grouping of bodies into one coherent whole. The number of human figures should vary from three to nine, as with an antique guest meal.853 In many cases the Hooch adheres to this boundary.854 Because a painting – unlike a theater play – has no sequence of scenes and everything takes place at the same time, one has to group the characters in a different way. The main characters must be clearly visible, the others are more at the side or to the rear, depending on the pattern and division within the framework.855 In De Hooch’s paintings, the domestic landscape of tiled floors, walls and vistas forms a suitable framework for placing the bodies at an orderly distance from each other.856 The figures must also be attuned to each other in their movement and in such a way that the whole is balanced. 857 The group must be well placed (show an ‘aerdige sprong’ [elegant leap], writes Van Hoogstraten): the heads may not all be at the same height. They should be varied according to the rules of art, but without giving an overly made-up impression.858 In De Hooch’s paintings, the characters are mainly involved with each other through their work. Sometimes they are so deepened in each other that they can hardly be distinguished as separate bodies (bp.4.23.3). Sometimes they look at each other from a distance, while they are connected by a gesture, a letter, a dog, a birdcage, a glass or music.859 Finally, the various well-balanced groups must be distributed appropriately over the canvas, as this also increases the pleasant arrangement. 860 Van Hoogstraten refers to this mutual coordination as ‘troeping’ [trooping].861 De Grebber speaks of ‘binding’ [bonding]:862 Ook moetmen mijden dat de beelden niet enckel en staen, te weten van malkander ghescheyden, maer moeten by den andren ghebracht werden, dat zy door, en om malkander leven. En soo de Historie maer een beelt vereyscht, sult ghy sien door het bywerck bindingh te maecken. [It is also necessary to avoid that the figures do not stand alone, to know separated from each other, but they must be brought with the others, that they live by, and around each other. And if the History requires only one figure, you will have to try to make binding by the side work]. 126 Of De Hooch is known (by infrared photos) that he added his characters afterwards, so after the chamber scape had already been completed. 863 They are placed according to the pattern that emerges from some diagonals in the tiled floor, the walls and the inserts in the walls. Remarkably often all kinds of bodies, such as chair, foot stove, table and cradle, dog and woman, but also all kinds of ‘clutter’, seem to have been placed askew (bp.4.80.11-18). On closer inspection, they follow the patterns of the flat plane that gives them shape and form (sometimes aligned, sometimes perpendicular, often touching different lines or vertices, but seldom ‘just’ anywhere).864 The domestic landscape on the flat plane is therefore formed in two ways. On the one hand via a geometric grid, on the other hand via optical steering. In this way, the eye is served in a dual way and gains a structured knowledge of the distances in the house. In the center of this relief, De Hooch places – as was the case in Brueghel’s natural landscape – living creatures and their associated activities. 865 Anyone who wants to learn to make good arrangements should follow the work of other painters. Cennini, for example, ‘compares taking over other painters’ examples with picking beautiful flowers. Once the artist knows what the beautiful and ugly flowers are, he has developed his own style’.866 Deriving an entire order from a master or ‘rapen’ [collecting] certain parts from existing paintings is the right foundation for learning to paint well. The later ‘model books’ as they appeared particularly in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries fit into this conception of education and the appropriation of knowledge. 867 A pupil must follow others unconditionally and copy a lot in order to build up a solid repertoire of forms: copying means borrowing and rearranging. 868 Only when his hand, eye and mind are formed does he have the ability to judge for himself and is he free to bring forth new findings of his own.869 Van Hoogstraten writes: Gy Leerlingen hierentegen, zult niet alleen uwe Meesters gehoorzaemen, maer hen ook in ‘t onderwijzen gelooven. Die uit den mont van zijn Meester wat leeren wil (zeyt H. Nollius) moet dat zelve naekomen, zonder eenige onderzoekinge, zoo lange tot dat hy het geenige datter geleert is, wel en te recht verstaet. Veele, vervolgt hy, hebben de maniere, dat zoo haest zy wat van haer Meester gehoort hebben, dat zelve strax haer oordeel onderwerpen, en van de waerheit, eer zy ‘t recht begrijpen, willen vonnissen; schoon hun begrip en oordeel noch ongeoeffent is. (...) Daerom zoude ik den leerlingen liever, als Pythagoras zijn Disciplelen dede, een vijfjaerich stilzwijgen opleggen, en een striktelijke gehoorzaemheid aenbevelen, niet om dat zy onkundich in de konst zouden blijven, maer op dat zy erst te degen het gene hen aenbevolen is, zouden leeren in ‘t werk stellen. De leerlingen, zeyt Verulamius, zijn haere Meesters een tijd lang geloove schuldich, en moeten haer oordeel opschorten, tot dat zy de geheele konsten wech hebben, en die tijt gekomen zijnde, zoo zijn zy gansch vry. 127 [You students, on the other hand, shall not only obey your Masters, but also believe them in teaching. He that wishes to learn something from the mouth of his Master (said H. Nollius) must do it himself, without any examination, so long until he understands well and correctly all that is taught. Many, he continues, have the disposition, that as soon as they have heard anything from their Master, they immediately submit the same to their own judgment, and, before they rightly understand the truth, wish to condemn it; although their understanding and judgment are as yet untrained. (…) Therefore, as Pythagoras did with his Disciples, I would rather impose a five-year silence on the students, and recommend strict obedience, not so that they would remain ignorant in the art, but so that they would first learn to put into practice in the dough what has been recommended to them. The disciples, said Verulamius [Francis Bacon], owe their Masters faith for a while, and must suspend their judgment, until they have gone the whole way of art, and when that time has come, then they are entirely free]. Contrary to the modern conception of ‘artistic originality’, a finding in the early modern era stands and falls with the extent to which a painter leans on tradition. Thorough knowledge can only be obtained by borrowing, stealing and picking up from tradition.870 Expressions such as borrowing ‘for convenience’ and ‘without a second glance’ from a form or ‘stealing from other people’s artistic creations’ because one was ‘not too inventive’ or to ‘mask a lack of originality, presuppose a principle of originality that is only expressed in the Netherlands by Gerard de Lairesse (1707), and this within the French classicist art theory that has since emerged (and not yet by Van Hoogstraten, as one might think). 871 The early modern painter Van Hoogstraten evokes has another goal: to follow Nature, which has more to offer than all painters put together. An attitude also confirmed by Panofsky: ‘Warnings against “imitation” of other masters are characteristic of the Renaissance, but they were not as yet voiced because such imitation would reveal the imitator’s poverty of ideas; this could not become important until “idea” had become the central concept of art theory. Rather those warnings were given quite simply because nature is infinitely richer than the works of painters, so that he who imitates other painters’ works would lower himself to being the grandchild of nature, when he was capable of being her son’.872 With knowledge of classical histories and a practiced understanding of the painted depictions by other masters, the painter can make what he wants. After all, those who know how to arrange a figure well are also capable of doing so with a building or a landscape.873 Van Hoogstraten therefore urges every painter, once fully educated, to make new findings of his own, in order to bring praise to the art of painting: Poog met al uw kracht, ô yverige Schilderjeugt, u te bequamen tot eygen vindingen. Apelles en Protogenes weeken van de wegen van Micon, Diores, en Arymnas haere voorgangers af. 128 Zoo deden Paulo Kalliary en Tyntoret, en sloegen nieuwe wegen in. Wie weet of de konst noch hooger te brengen is. Tast stoutelijk toe, en waeg’er uw papier aen, mooglijk zal u d’oeffening overvloejende rijk van ordinantie maken.874 [Strive with all your strength, O zealous painter's youth, to become proficient in your own findings. Apelles and Protogenes departed from the ways of Micon, Diores, and Arymnas their predecessors. So did Paulo Kalliary and Tyntoret and struck out in new directions]. Who knows if art can be taken even higher. Touch bravely, and venture your paper there, perhaps by practice you will become abundantly rich in commissions. The chamber scape by De Hooch is such a special finding. At first sight, this does not seem to comply with the rules formulated by Alberti and other early modern authors. But on closer inspection, the chamber scape satisfies this in many respects. Although Sutton and others acknowledge the originality of De Hooch’s work – namely as something entirely new in the history of painting 875 – I would like to reverse their reasoning. Precisely because De Hooch works within the early modern conceptual universe in which these rules of the art of painting are articulated and, more important, practiced. In this conceptual universe this new finding – ‘het kamergezicht’ – takes place. It becomes a ‘genre’ with its own ‘ecosystem’ and that differs only in subject matter from mythological and biblical paintings – not in the basic rules of the art of painting that it follows. De Hooch’s oeuvre shows a taxonomy of diverse bodies that appear to be ‘in their element’ in the ‘chamber scape’. From door, doormat, ‘valhoed’ [children’s helmet] and headscarves, open windows and oceans of satin, to intertwined fingers and blushing cheeks, drifting carpets and twisted dogs, mirroring wine glasses and outstretched broomsticks, high-backed chairs against the wall, playing cards and pipes on the floor, wide-legged women and foot stoves on a summer day. Housewares come in a wide variety, living creatures are less common. There is only a limited number of human characters, a single dog, cat, parrot, chicken or monkey and some plants, shrubs and trees to be seen on his works. But in shades of color, in alternation of light and shadow and in movement or gesture, they show wide variation. It is for this reason that De Hooch's paintings show such a narrow affinity among themselves. This kinship is so strong that his works have condensed in the collective imagination into the image of the intimate and cozy Golden Age Dutch home. From my comparison of his paintings, this is the result of variety and abundance. In doing so, De Hooch conforms to the rules of the art of painting as articulated by many early modern writers on painting. Het geeft somtijts een schijn van gevoeglijkheit, als enige dingen in een rijk en wel gestoffeert huis als verzuimelijk verstroit leggen, en gelijk lekkere spijzen somtijts door ‘t toedoen van eenige zerpicheit [zuur] in de sause smakelijker gemaekt wort, zoo helpt het 129 tot de bevallijkheit in ‘t ordineeren, als men ‘er een schijn van losse onachtsaemheit in kan brengen; daer een te gemaeckte ordening die gevoeglijkheit mist. Maer deze onachtsaemheit moet door een kunstgreep verbonden zijn, of men zouw geheel buiten ‘t spoor geraken.876 [It has sometimes the appearance of suitability, if some things in a rich and well-appointed house are somewhat carelessly scattered, as delicious food is sometimes made more palatable by adding a little acid to the sauce, so it helps to put grace in order, if one can put an appearance of loose nonchalance in it; for an arrangement too orderly lacks that propriety. But this nonchalance must be bound by a rule of art, otherwise one will lose track entirely]. The question of ‘realism’ in seventeenth-century genre painting gradually looks like a misplaced issue. It has little to do with what both painters and writers in the early modern period make or write about the art of painting. They were at that time – much more so than can apparently be imagined in today’s ‘realism’-debate – observing and dissecting visible Nature and based on that knowledge, forming the flat plane. Of the many authors who have commented on De Hooch, only Price (1974) seems to question De Hooch’s emphasis on social aspects and on women and children. Actually, he says, these paintings are about very different things. After studying both early modern writings and paintings, I think he was right. The true subject of the paintings of the Dutch school was the visible world that surrounded both the painter and his audience. They did not involve themselves in open commentary on life or in the allegorical representation of abstract ideas, whether moral or religious. This tendency to give an immediate reaction to the visible world is perhaps found in its most extreme form in landscapes and interiors, especially when the human element is least prominent. (...) The interiors of Dutch houses painted by Pieter de Hooch always contain people, but it is usually clear that the room and the furniture are the most important subjects.877 However, his remark reaches further than he probably realized. An analysis of De Hooch’s chamber scapes shows that there is more pattern in them than is apparent to the eye. Firstly, the categories depicted in chamber scapes are limited (architectural forms, household objects, living beings). Secondly, within these categories a certain degree of substitution is possible (a door can be replaced by a window, a pan by a saucer, a human character by a dog). Thirdly, the visualization of one and the same thing or character can differ (the art of reflection and the art of coloring). And finally, the position of ‘bodies’ on the flat plane (the location in the ‘transparent’ web of lines) can be varied. Only at the level of the corpus as a whole do these possibilities become visible as a structure. The result of this 130 substitution tactic is, on the one hand, an enormous wealth of differences that invites one to look again and again (each painting is slightly different because of its particular combinations). On the other hand, an expectation pattern is installed, whereby the recognizability of each painting is guaranteed (each painting varies within a set pattern). 131 4.2.1. The Art of Painting as Work Until now I have discussed the paintings of Pieter de Hooch against the background of the system of early modern art of painting. To this conceptual system I include not only the paintings, but also the various writings regularly cited in the preceding paragraphs: the utterances by Alberti, Da Vinci, Van Mander, Van Hoogstraten, Goeree, De Grebber, Biens and Angel. From this early modern thinking I have discussed four levels that are present in De Hooch’s work and that to a large extent occupy the thoughts of authors in this period. This applies not only to the Netherlands and Italy, but also to authors in other regions of Europe. As in the two preceding chapters on Simon Stevin (on the liberated house) and Jacob Cats (on the house as an honorable enterprise), the question can be asked what the connection is between these levels of formulation and whether that connection was always made in the early modern period in the same way. I will discuss this in the next sections. De Hooch’s work will be less prominent in this, but that only may seem to be the case. The underlying question is in fact what status his ‘chamber scapes’ have in the art of painting of the early modern period. To answer this question, I will situate his work in three histories. In this first section (4.2.1.) I will focus on an issue that has already been touched upon in the introduction to this fourth chapter. For the duration of the descriptive analysis, I did not wish to comment on the precarious relationship between Dutch ‘genre painting’ and Italian (humanist, Neoplatonist) art theory.878 There is currently a certain consensus among art historians (euphemistically speaking) that seventeenth-century Dutch (realistic) genre painting and Italian art theory (with its high appreciation of history painting) are mutually exclusive. Terms such as ‘betrayal’, ‘misunderstanding’, ‘branded’, ‘xenophobia’, ‘not free of strange blemishes’, ‘backward taste’ that go back and forth between the various art historical camps on ‘Dutch seventeenth-century realist art’ indicate a fierce and lengthy debate in which unshakeable and moral propositions are involved.879 The time has come to address and resolve this issue. The next section offers a view into the archive of various traces that together form a kind of genealogy of the chamber scape. Studies regularly link the rise of Dutch interiors around 1650 to Flemish interiors such as those painted by Jan van Eyck at the beginning of the fifteenth century. The purpose of this section is to arrange familiar but diverse visual material about ‘the house’ of the interval of 250 years in an unusual way and to leave the canonical lines for what they are (4.2.2.). The third section will be devoted to the knowledge that is generated in early modern imagery. Although the moving capacity of a painting and the hungry eye seem to be of all times, the visible image underwent an epistemological transformation during this period (4.2.3.). Following on from that, this fourth chapter concludes with three more early modern issues that touch on the foundations of contemporary art history: the religious criticism on the visual image (the question of idolatry), the moral 132 criticism (on the sensual effect of the nude) and finally the well-known elevation of painting from craft to science that is said to have taken place during this period. It is not uncommon in iconological discourses about seventeenth-century Dutch genre painting to complain about the lack of a suitable art-theoretical context that makes its meaning comprehensible. Although ‘genre painting’ may have been so commonplace that one did not have to write about it, one regrets the small number of art-theoretical writings that was produced in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in the Dutch-speaking regions. It is particularly regrettable that these writings, which focus on history painting, hardly make any mention of genre painting. ‘What was finally put on paper about genre painting and genre painters in Dutch art literature from Van Mander (1604) to De Lairesse (1707) is a quantity of words that fits on a few pages and is therefore almost negligible’.880 As De Jongh writes, iconologists would have liked to have had a ‘theoretical manual’ to interpret genre painting, by analogy with the work Iconologia by Cesare Ripa (1644), which is used as a source for the history piece. ‘Just as Ripa prescribes how an artist should paint Generosity, Chastity, Abundance or the continent of Europe, an imaginary sample book for the genre painter could have contained recipes that indicated how a certain amorous situation could be depicted, what ingredients were needed to disguise a specific virtue, how to hint at transience in everyday pictorial language’.881 Iconologists have therefore (apart from a handful of useful theoretical quotes from Van Mander, Van Hoogstraten and Cats)882 searched for other explanatory text material. Initially, emblems and captioned prints were used in order to demonstrate the high-quality interpretation of genre paintings. Later, historical material with a lesser status (such as songbooks) was also accepted as a reliable source. 883 Alpers, for her part, focused on early modern (Dutch and European) source material on the status of contemporary visual culture (Huygens, Van Beverwijck, but also Descartes, Drebbel, Bacon, Brahe and Kepler). 884 With the exception of a few, iconologists have in fact withdrawn from research into the art theoretical writings published in Holland.885 At the moment, Dutch art theoretical treatises are considered almost exclusively relevant to history painting and Dutch classicism. 886 Two assumptions obscure this iconological argumentation regarding the relationship between ‘genre painting’ and ‘Italian art theory’. Firstly, that there is a typology of paintings by subject. Secondly, that this typology is linked to a hierarchical valuation, which moreover fluctuates in history. I will explain both assumptions as briefly as possible because they have led to far-reaching confusion. To start with the first issue: contemporary art historians agree that there are defined species (types, genres) of paintings. There is a classification in which genre paintings and history paintings are placed in separate compartments. The difference between the two genres lies in the subject they present. What is common to genre pieces is that they depict everyday actions of human figures in 133 an ordinary entourage.887 The history piece, on the other hand, shows an idealized (biblical, mythological or historical) scene in which beautiful nudes play the leading role.888 For many years art historians have paid a lot of attention to paintings with biblical subjects, antiquities and historical events. 889 Yet they have not always conceived all these distinctive scenes as part of the same genre. Only relatively recently the umbrella term ‘historieschilderkunst’ [history painting] has been used. The ‘historiestuk’ [history piece] is then further categorized in paintings with a biblical or mythological narrative or a history. 890 As early as 1969, De Pauw-de Veen, in her study on the meaning of seventeenth-century concepts in the art of painting, pointed out that art historians were wrong to retrospectively promote ‘the history piece’ to a seventeenth-century genre.891 She explains this from a ‘modern need for classification’ and thus for the need of accurate terms.892 As a result, the seventeenth-century concept of art theory has acquired a much more specific meaning in modern times than it had at the time. In the early modern era, the content was ‘not so sharply defined’. Constantijn Huygens, for example, counts among the ‘history painters’ alongside Lastman (Rembrandt’s teacher) and various Utrecht Caravaggists, as well as Frans Snijders who paints animal and kitchen pieces. 893 Van Hoogstraten, Angel, De Grebber and Van Mander use terms such as ‘doorluchtige Historien’ [transluvcent, brilliant Histories], ‘kennisse van hystorien’ [knowledge of histories], ‘schriftuerlijcke ofte waerachtighe Historien’ [from sacred scripture derived or true Histories] or ‘beelden en Historien’ [images and Histories], but the term remains little specific.894 ‘Confusion, however’, De Pauw-de Veen emphasizes, ‘may arise from the fact that some writers believe they use the seventeenth-century word – since they have it printed between quotation marks or in italics and in a so-called seventeenth-century spelling – and thus think they evoke the seventeenth-century content of the word; from their descriptions or from the context, however, it appears that they give those words their contemporary meaning’.895 For ‘genre painting’ the matter is a little more complicated. The term is linked to the second assumption, namely that of hierarchical valuation. Unlike ‘history piece’, every art historian now knows that the terms ‘genre’ and the ‘genrestuk ‘ [genre piece] did not exist in the seventeenth century and were inventions of later times (eighteenth and nineteenth centuries). 896 In the seventeenth century all kinds of descriptive terms were used.897 The umbrella term ‘genre painting’ is even more recent and only appeared in the 1970s, with ‘history painting’ as its pendant.898 The extent to which both categories are interwoven (as each other’s counterpart) is evident from the reception history as described by the iconologists. In the nineteenth century the genre piece was held in high esteem. 899 It was regarded as a typically Dutch genre in which everyday reality was realistically depicted.900 The Dutch ‘history piece’, on the other hand, was disqualified as ‘un-Dutch’ (because Italian).901 In the seventeenth century, the 134 roles were reversed: it was then that ‘history piece’ (following in the footsteps of Italian art) as a superior genre gained the most appreciation. 902 It was considered to be the highest mode with the aim of conveying a meaningful, learned and moving message to the literate viewer. The genre piece belonged to the lowest mode because of its depicted everydayness and had a correspondingly low status.903 Given this reconstruction by the iconologists, it is understandable that the recent research strives for rehabilitation on several fronts. For ‘Dutch history painting’, the aim is to restore its 17th-century position (i.e. as equivalent to the highly regarded Italian Renaissance painting). 904 For Dutch ‘genre painting’ one seeks to restore honor on two points. On the one hand with regard to the 19thcentury claim to be a mere image, on the other hand with regard to the 17thcentury claim to be a purely mundane subject. In other words, iconologists demand for Dutch genre painting the position they believe Italian Renaissance painting deserves: a high status and a legible content as an expression of an underlying intellectual or moral idea. Or, in Miedema’s formulation: ‘It can no longer be denied, since the investigations of the last decades, that the seventeenthcentury paintings of people in more or less seventeenth-century clothes in a more or less seventeenth-century environment always have a moralizing and often even allegorical background’.905 The result of these efforts is a polarized historiography. Research into Dutch painting is currently largely determined by an idea based on the hierarchical difference between Italy and Holland, between elite and people, between theory and practice, between word and image.906 For the duration of this section, I would like to give the above presentation a rest. In the last section, 4.2.4., I will take up the issue again. First, we have to compare the early modern concept of ‘historie’ [history] as it is discussed in the Dutch writings about the art of painting with a term like ‘istoria’. As Miedema remarked, Van Mander derives his concept of ‘Historien’ from Alberti who introduced the term in his Della Pittura.907 How do the two concepts relate to each other? And how do they relate to the other concepts discussed in the first four sections of this chapter? Well, the subject of Alberti’s De Pictura is the art of painting. The writing shows surprising similarities both with seventeenth-century writings about the art of painting, as well as with what happens on canvas. At least that is the thrust of the first four sections of this chapter. According to Alberti, the four layers of signification that have so far been distinguished in De Hooch’s paintings belong to the most important parts that the painter has to arrange on the flat plane: the fading tile floor (1), the correct arrangement of lights and shadows (2), the balanced arrangement of colors and tints (3) and the appropriate placing of the bodies ‘in their element’ (4). The ‘inventio’ of poets and other narrators offers the painter a ready-made context with an appropriate selection of bodies. In this way 135 the painter can focus all his attention on the imagination or the arrangement on the flat plane and does not have to worry about the selection itself because it is largely fixed. By means of the ‘ekphrasis’, the vivid description, attention is drawn to the visual aspects.908 Alberti calls the painting in which this is executed with appropriate abundance (‘copia’) and dignified variety (‘varietas’), ‘istoria’.909 The work of a painter is not great and praiseworthy, Alberti says, because it is physically extensive, but because of its perfect mastery of the rules of art.910 In addition, the ‘istoria’ possesses a number of other properties that make Alberti give it such a high value. The painting must stir the soul, possess beauty and present the human body excellently (especially in the nude).911 Many of the terms used by Alberti, such as ‘inventio’ and ‘compositio’, are derived from rhetoric.912 Alberti emphasizes, like Van Mander, that he does not so much want to show his eloquence in describing the art of painting, but that he wants to present this unusual subject as clearly as possible. 913 All these characteristics attributed by him to the ‘istoria’ have later been transposed into art history and have become exclusive features of ‘history painting’. One can raise the question of how justified that was. It could be that the ‘istoria’ has a different place in the early modern art of painting. The term istoria appears at the end of Alberti’s first book. Referring to scarce antique examples, he writes that making a well suited istoria is not easy and that only few are able to do so.914 In book two he relates istoria to the ‘parts of art’ that make up the painting. Beauty, loveliness and grace are found in the even composition of all the parts. This returns in the writings by Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten.915 For them, too, composing (or ‘ordineren’ [bring order] as they write) leads to an interrelationship between the parts of the painting.916 ‘Gratie bestaet in de ontmoeting van al de deelen der Konst’ [Grace consists in the meeting of all parts of Art], according to Van Hoogstraten. And in such a way that they are each in balance: there is harmony in the drawing, in the ‘houding’ [pose] in lights, dark and colors, in ‘welstand’ [well-balanced] in the bodies and in an appropriate ‘vinding’ [finding, ‘inventio’].917 The correct arrangement of the parts, from which beauty sprouts, is preceded by finding beauty. Beauty in painting therefore always implies in the early modern conception a relationship with and knowledge of Nature. Both Alberti and Van Hoogstraten always point out that Nature offers plenty of opportunity to find knowledge and that the painter should endeavor to observe Nature it all her details.918 Only those who are experienced, know the examples 136 from Nature and have raised them in the brain, can bring ‘geregelde’ [regulated] beauty into their painting by bringing together even parts.919 Dat niemant uit zijn zin en gedachten een schoonheyt kan uitdrukken: maer dat het noodich zy, dat iemant, die een schoonheyt uit zijn gemoed wil brengen, de zelve daer in te vooren opgegaert en bewaert heeft, door een vlytige naevolginge, en datmenze dan voor diens eygen niet houden moet, maer voor een meesterschap door arbeyt verkreegen, die deeze vruchten baert, door het geene te vooren in ‘t gemoed gezaeyt was: en die de van binnen ontfange gedaente als een verborgen schat uitbrengt. Dat derhalven geoeffende meesters de leevendige exempelen, om haere beelden nae uit te drukken, niet van nooden hebben, dewijl’er door een lange oeffening, in haer gemoed zoo veel is samengevloeit, datze, al wat hun belieft, daer uit scheppen kunnen.920 [That no one can express beauty according to his own understanding and thoughts: because it is necessary, that one, who wishes to extract beauty from his mind, must have stored and preserved it therein beforehand, by an industrious imitation, and that one must not conceive of it as one's own merit, but as a mastery obtained by labour, and bearing this fruit, by that which was sown in the mind beforehand. and which brings out the form received from within as a hidden treasure. That is why practiced masters do not need vivid examples to make their images, because through prolonged practice, so much has flowed into their minds that they can bring forth whatever they are longing for]. Although Van Hoogstraten occasionally mentions the (platonic) ‘idea’ in this context, he does not give this term the primacy over the image, which it is usually given.921 For him, ‘de waere Idea van schoonheyt’ [the true Idea of beauty] or ‘denkbeelt’ [conceptual-image] stems from following the rules of art, which in turn gives birth to paintings.922 ‘Dit is de rechte wijze om iets schoons en heerlijx voor den dach te brengen, en zoo wort de schoonheyt, als Minerve in het breyn van Jupiter geteelt, uit de hersenen eens konstenaers geboren’ [This is the straight way to make something beautiful and glorious visible, and so beauty, like Minerva grown in the brain of Jupiter, is born from the brain of an artist].923 The study of Nature also comes in handy for the two other things the painter needs to know: the passions and the human nude.924 As Cats already showed [Chapter 3], distinguishing and classifying the various affects of the mind is a common activity in early modern times. Affects, passions, stirring of the mind, inner turmoil: all terms refer to the movements and workings that take place in the soul, heart and mind. Emotions thus have, in the early modern times, a physical habitation as well as the ability to move (they stir, push, change, blow and draft). As far as affects or emotions are concerned, Alberti is clear. ‘The istoria will move the soul of the beholder, when each man painted there clearly shows the movement of his own soul. It happens in nature that nothing more than herself is 137 found capable of things like herself: we weep with the weeping, laugh with the laughing, and grieve with the grieving. These movements of the soul are made known by movements of the body’.925 The affects that are distinguished by Alberti (such as sorrow, joy, fear and desire) can be seen harmoniously in all parts of the characters’ bodies. Van Hoogstraten and Cats mention the same emotions. They are counted among the five to seven ‘universal’ emotions that are known in all cultures.926 Da Vinci too discusses the connection between emotion and facial expression.927 Sadness weighs heavily on shaky and pale limbs, melancholy wrinkles the forehead and makes head and limbs hang down, wrath makes eyes swell and makes the face red-hot, while joy manifests itself in loose gestures. 928 Here, too, one must observe appropriate ‘copia’ [abundance] and ‘varietas’ [diversity]. Like Giotto who shows in eleven variations the afflicted soul of the eleven disciples who see Jesus walking on the water. 929 The intensity of the emotion and thus the mobility of limbs and facial features is never the same. The affection shown must always suit the situation.930 ‘This appropriateness (prepon, decorum, aptum) was in antiquity a universal life standard. She masters the entire thinking about ethics and aesthetics’.931 Like Alberti, Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten deal with the passions and external movements of limbs to which the passions, the drives and inner sensitivities give rise.932 But they do discuss a longer number of natural passions.933 They underline the similarity between the painting of gestures and the gestural art of actors in the depiction of the emotions.934 ‘Feeling is on the side of the object of imagination. In any case, there is no place for self-expression in this 17th-century theory. More than that, human feelings play a role almost exclusively in acts whose ceremonial character is manifest. The emotions are never cloudy or formless.935 Emotions are never understood as expressions of the artist’s soul (as is the case in modern art criticism).936 The classical examples cited by early modern authors are understood as demonstrations of mimicry that will stir the feelings. They present the face as the most important tool of the soul: open and half-closed eyes, smooth and wrinkled foreheads, raised eyebrows and lowered lips, wide mouths, pale or red cheeks.937 Van Mander describes the blowing and stirring of the drifts (like Cats) in terms of severe weather condition.938 And Van Hoogstraten, for instance, describes how the shame colors the face of a virgin – ‘diens bloozende verwe, van de natuer tot een teyken van zedicheyt daer op geschildert’ [whose blushing color, by nature a sign of dignified modesty, paints itself thereon]: ... de traenen biggelden langs haere blaekende wangen: z’ontstak van schaemte zoo root als vier, en al haer aenschijn gloeide: gelijk of iemant Indiaensch yvoir met bloetroot purper overstreek, of gelijk weerschijn van roode roozen onder wite lelien speelt, zoo bloosde de maegt in haer aenschijn.939 138 [... The tears rolled down her pale cheeks: she ignited with shame as red as fire, and all her face glowed: as if someone had painted over Indian ivory white with blood-red purple, or like the reflection of red roses on white lilies, so the virgin blushed in her visage]. Furthermore, sensations of the soul show themselves in vivid stretches of the body, in hands, fingers, chest, hips and legs. 940 On solemn occasions (such as declaring war, in ecclesiastical or state affairs) the limbs should be tempered in their movement.941 But if you want to portray a foolish human being, in which all vices come together (‘onleersaem, en van schelmachtigen en verradersen aert, onkuis en lichtvaerdich’ [incapable of learning, and of a villainous and treacherous nature, unchaste and frivolous]), you make a coarse head, squinting eyes, hanging cheeks, a crooked nose, thick curled lips, black teeth, bumps in front and behind and crooked, thick legs.942 Whatever drives one wishes to depict, movements of the body must correspond and be in proportion to the nature of passions. With this rule – to appropriately demonstrate the whole range of internal natural forces with which human beings have to deal with – early modern authors (referring to philosophers and rhetoricians like Cicero, Quintilian, Seneca and Pliny) plead for a classical way of working. These early modern treatises reveal nothing of the increasing psychological depth or human sensitivity, and of the ‘inner’ civilization that, according to some cultural historians following Norbert Elias, would be marked on the body.943 Then the second point: the knowledge of the nude. Everything in Nature is understood in comparison to the human being, Alberti writes, for one knows them best of all creatures.944 In order to be able to make good comparisons, in order to clarify the relationships between other bodies in Nature, it is necessary to be able to make a good rendering of the human figure.945 However, painting a naked human body is the most demanding task there is. In spite of all its richness, Nature seldom shows beauty in human bodies.946 More often they show deformities, of which Van Hoogstraten describes several samples. 947 According to him, the cause of these flaws lies in the bad nature of air, food and land (a thought we also found with Stevin and Cats). He also makes a connection with parents and ancestors, who pass on certain traits to their offspring, which leads to different, and not always happy, combinations.948 Moreover, each people has its own views on physical beauty.949 According to Van Hoogstraten, one should not try to correct innate defects in Nature itself. But he knows that there are peoples who ‘natuerlijke welschaepenheyt door konst of door gewelt zoeken te verbeeteren’ [seek to improve bodies that are natural, well-built by force or by art], by carving the skin and coloring the scars, coating them with gum and plastering them with feathers or feathers. But also, by binding feet, stretching ears, piercing lips, raising eyelids, 139 painting faces black, red or white, lifting breasts, narrowing the head (by clamping it in) or flattening it (by pressing the nose) in newborns.950 Compared to all other bodies in Nature, the human nude is the most complex. A well-painted nude is therefore the masterpiece par excellence, Van Hoogstraten writes: Dit is waerachtich, want de Teykening wort door de natuerlijke koloreeringe, en de koloreeringe door de zekere en maetschikkelijke teykening tot volkomenheit gebracht. Maer deze twee ontmoeten elkanderen noit heerlijker, als in het naekt van een mensch, waer in de natuer haer grootste vermogen, zoo ‘t schijnt, in ‘t werk stelde, om aen die schoone gedaente zoodanich een Edele koloreeringe en verwe deelachtich te maken, als tot het meesterstuk des alwijzen Scheppers schijnt te behooren. Daerom hebben alle groote meesters, by wien de konst van ‘t wel koloreeren in achting geweest is, in naeckten en tronien al haere krachten gebaert, om de natuer voornamentlijk hier in nae te volgen.951 [This is true, for the drawing is brought to perfection by the natural coloring, and the coloring is brought to perfection by the certain and suitable measures of the drawing. But these two never meet more exquisitely, as in the nude of a human being, in which nature, it seems, put her greatest capability to work, in order to give this beautiful form such a Noble coloring and shades that it seems to belong to the masterpiece of the all-wise Creator. That is why all the great masters, in whom the art of well-colored painting was held in high esteem, have given birth to all their powers in nudes and masks, in order primarily to follow nature in this]. Toes, fingers, hair, limbs, torso and especially head and face are as many parts whose particular properties need to be studied. A painter must understand the curvatures of muscle bundles, the bulges of joints, the cavities and folds of fat, the bones over which the skin is stretched, and the color shades associated with them. To this end, he must acknowledge the variety in the human body.952 There are physical areas in the human body that light up or lie in shadow, which makes observing them a challenging experiment. It is precisely a robustly formed woman that attracts the painter’s eye because of the landscape characteristics of her body, which at the same time challenges his ability to render her body in all its carnal hills and valleys on the flat plane (bp.4.109.4, bp.4.117.9-18, bp.4.120, bp.4.151):953 De ronding waenen eenige door harde en zwarte schaduwen en blinkende lichten, die zy hoogselen noemen, te weeg te brengen, maer zoodanige naeckten schijnen eer van metael, dan zacht vleesch te zijn: of ten minsten vertooningen van kaerslicht. De beste Schilders hebben de ronding eer door poezele zachticheit, dan door gewelt te weeg gebracht: want het natuerlijke naeckt rond zoo wel in een gemeen licht, als in een al te gedwongen strael, en 140 beter, wanneer ‘t het licht van vooren, als te snel van ter zijden ontfangt. Want de ronding is niet anders, als een omwijkende vermindering.954 [The roundness are brought about by some hard and black shadows and shining lights, which are called highlights, but such nudes seem to be rather of metal, than of soft flesh: at least in displays of candlelight. The best painters have brought about the roundness rather by a plump softness than by a forceful intervention: for the roundness of the natural nude appears both in a general light, and in a too forced light, but it is better, when the light is received both from the front and fleetingly from the side. For the roundness is an all a. round receding of the light]. It is this challenge that Dürer illustrates with his example with a draftsman, drawing a nude (in: Unterweysung der Messung, Nuremberg 1538, bp.4.27.1). An example that, in view of the cultural-political interpretations to which it has given rise in recent decades, is one of the most abused images in art history. Alberti and Van Hoogstraten write that the painter is allowed to try to surpass Nature, thus resuming a classical, Aristotelian topos.955 ‘In fact’, Panofsky explains, ‘from the standpoint of the Renaissance both of these demands, incompatible only in later times, seemed like the parts of a single postulate: the demand that the artist confront reality anew in each work of art, be it as corrector or imitator’.956 The painter does this by choosing Nature’s best parts and balancing them.957 In the early modern thought, a painting can therefore both follow and improve Nature. ‘This identification of the beautiful with the typical in nature implies a belief in the Aristotelian view of nature as an artist striving towards perfection and always hindered from attaining it by accident. According to this view the artist, by eliminating the imperfections in natural objects and combining their most typical parts, reveals what nature is always aiming at but is always frustrated from producing (...). This very matter-of-fact averaging technique, however, is characteristic of Alberti and illustrates how far he was removed from any sort of idealistic or Neoplatonic conception’.958 In this period, the relationship between Nature and the art that surpasses it is constantly under discussion.959 Blunt pointed out that in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries this common question yielded answers with different emphases.960 For example, Alberti stated that following Nature was not enough to generate beauty, Da Vinci that the artist should only follow Nature with his art, and Vasari that art can go too far and thus ignore Nature.961 In early modern thinking, adding beauty implies the balanced arrangement of attuned limbs. ‘Indien gy weten wilt,’ Van Hoogstraten writes, ‘waer in de schoonheyt bestaet? Ik zal u zeggen, dat dit in de gelijkvormicheit der deelen is, en in d’eevenmaticheit der ledematen, d’eene na d’andere passende’ [If you want to know what beauty is? I will tell you, that it is in the equal forms of the parts, and in the equal measures of the limbs, whereby the one conforms to the other].962 141 ‘Welschapenheid’ [well-formed] involves a certain analogy between the parts and between the parts and the whole. 963 Beauty is therefore ‘niet alleen in jongelingen en maegden, maer ook in volrijpen en afgaenden ouderdom [te] zien. Niet alleen in poezele jeugd, maer in lichamen als tot arbeyt gewent’ [not only in youngsters and virgins, but also in mature and diminishing old age [to be] seen. Not only in tender youth, but also in bodies accustomed to labor].964 Therefore, early modern authors advise to avoid misshapenness, collect the beautiful parts from nature and arrange them in a painting so that the whole exhibits a graceful beauty.965 A body in which one part is more beautiful than the other is found to be unbalanced, ugly and ‘onschoon’ [not beautiful].966 On the other hand, an ugly body can acquire beauty and evoke amazement.967 To this end, a painter must follow the natural arrangement of that body.968 ... zoo zeggen wy met Plutarchus, dat wy Schilderye van een Haegdisse, van een aep, van een alderleelijksten Thersites tronie, jae ‘t alderafschuwelijkste en verachtste, als ‘t maer natuerlijk is, met lust en verwonderinge aenzien, en zeggen, hoewel men het leelijke en mismaekte niet schoon, noch het slechte heerlijk kan maeken, dat leelijk nochtans mooy wort, door zijne natuerlijkheyt, en ten aenzien van de naevolginge, de zelve lof verdient die men aen ‘t uitgelezenste schuldich is te geven.969 [... so we say with Plutarchus, that we regard paintings of a lizard, of a monkey, of a most ugly mask like that of Thersites, yea the most hideous and vile, with eagerness and wonder, provided it is natural, saying, although one cannot make the ugly and deformed beautiful, nor the evil delightful, yet the ugly becomes beautiful, by its naturalness, and deserves with regard to following, the same praise that is due to the most exquisite]. In order to learn to see the beautiful parts, the painter has to practice a lot. He should not limit himself to copying living nudes. Because when a human being gets tired, old or sick, the muscles show wrong movements, sometimes swelling occurs or the body is flat where it is not appropriate. It is only with knowledge of anatomy and the appropriate muscular workings that the painter can sensibly avoid these defects and compose beautiful figures, argues not only Van Hoogstraten, but also Angel, wo writes for example: ‘Ick gae verder besien, waer toe ons de grondige kennisse der Anatomie dienstich is; een goede wetenschap hier van te hebben, gheeft ons dit voordel, dat wy de muskulen te recht leeren kennen, waer sy beginnen, en waer sy eyndigen; hoe sy haer bewegen, ende in ‘t beroeren haer veranderen; hoe sy in-wicken, en waer sy wederom uyt-puylen, hoe en lichaem om een schoon proportie te hebben, dient verdeelt te wesen’ [I will consider further, what the thorough knowledge of Anatomy is useful for; to have a good knowing of this, gives us the advantage of learning to understand the muscles fully, where they begin, and where they end; how they move, and change 142 by moving; how they sink in, and where they bulge out again; how a body to have beautiful proportion must be subdivided].970 Applying the right flesh color – not too pale, not too blue, not too red or too pink and certainly not even – is the crown on the nude. In the foregoing we already saw that many painters have difficulty mixing the ‘karnaty’ or reddish according to Nature.971 Because there are natural differences in skin color and because the hue can vary depending on season, sex, age or work, the flesh color will always have to be determined and applied locally. Here some blush on the cheeks, there a sunburnt skin, sometimes shaded, sometimes hairy, sometimes pale. A painter who completes such a complex assignment as the ‘nude’ in a perfect way deserves all the praise in the eyes of the early modern authors. He is a master of his craft, has passed the master’s test and, as a painter, has the skills to work in general. Now that he is able to follow the most difficult shapes and colors Nature has to offer, now that he can follow Nature in its most outstanding forms, everything else is within reach for the master painter. ‘Die ‘t grootste kan na volgen, zal voor het minste niet verlegen staen’ [Who can emulate the greatest, will not be hindered in small things].972 In principle, he can handle anything nature has to offer.973 Even the things he never saw before.974 Thus, it appears that the nude, the affects, and the beauty – three components that are today regarded as characteristics of the highly esteemed ‘history painting’ – are, in early modern writings, connected by definition with the appropriation of knowledge, with steady exercise, and with painting as labor, in short, with an ‘art’ such as we have already come to know in the work of Stevin.975 There is indeed an appreciation for painting beautiful nudes and the emotions they evoke, but not in a hierarchical-normative and elitist sense, as people believe nowadays. To underscore the difference with the popular, realist genre painting, one speaks of ‘the perfectly beautiful nude’ as ‘the most exalted theme in painting’.976 One sees the history piece ‘as the highest classified genre’ in which an attempt was made to ‘convincingly represent people and their souls and often to bring a moral message to it’.977 However, early modern valuation applies to the accomplished master who possesses the capability of painting the most complicated shapes and colors. In this sense, ‘istoria’, or ‘painted tableau’ (as Van Eck and Zwijnenberg translate the term), should be understood as the appropriate visual and layered arrangement of an event in all its natural and spiritual richness.978 The tracts on the art of painting cited so far build up the knowledge step by step. ‘d’Eerste beginselen der konst, om niet verdoolt te loopen, moeten op een gewisse ordre geleert worden’ [The first principles of the art, in order not to get lost, must be learned according to a certain sequence], Van Hoogstraten writes. 979 In the same way as ‘spiegelingh’ and ‘daet’ according to Stevin, the art of painting is conceived as a systematic set of rules and instructions that are 143 learnable, memorable and executable, in short, an ‘techne’, ‘ars’ or ‘const’. Emmens (1964) has pointed this out before. 980 Most famous is his analysis of the ‘Kraamkamer van Dou’ [Maternity Chamber by Dou] (1963), in which he argues that it depicts the three parts of the classical ‘ars’ that are still used in early modern times.981 The classification by Cicero and Quintilianus in Natura, Ars or Disciplina and Exercitatio returns with Erasmus in the form of Natura, Ratio or Discipline and Usus or Exercitatio. In the Dutch language they were adopted as ‘Opvoeding’ [Education], ‘Scholing’ [Training or Reason] and ‘Konste of Oeffening’ [Art or Exercise].982 ‘Dutch art theory took them from Roman rhetoric. Not yet mentioned by Van Mander as a trio, though he did speak of natural aptitude or talent, teachable art, and the usefulness of exercise’. According to Emmens, Junius (1637) is the first to introduce them as equivalent concepts in the Dutch art of painting. Van Hoogstraten treats them as ‘Natuer, Leeringe (of Theorie) en Oeffening (of Practijk)’ [Nature, Doctrine (or Theory), and Exercise (or Practice)]. ‘Maer om deze vraege, of de konst grooter baet van de natuur, of van de leering heeft, te beantwoorden, zoo is te weten: dat de natuur zonder de leering veel vermach: en dat in tegendeel, de leering zonder eenige hulpe van de natuur, ydel en te vergeefs is. Maer wanneer middelmatige gaven der natuure door leering geholpen worden, zoo schijnt de natuur zich te beteren, en geeft meer uit, als ‘t verstant begrijpt [But to answer this question, whether art benefits more from nature, or from study, it is well to know: that without study, nature accomplishes many things: and that on the contrary, study without any help from nature, is worthless and useless. But when mediocre gifts of nature are helped by study, then nature seems to improve itself, and gives more than the mind understands].983 And by Houbraken you still can find this Aristotelian layout. So, three things are ‘er noodig om tot wetenschap te komen, de Natuur, Onderwysing en Oeffening: en tenzij de oeffening zig bij de Natuur en Onderwysing voegt is’er geen vrucht te wachten’ [necessary to arrive at knowledge, Nature, Teaching, and Practice: and unless Practice joins Nature and Teaching, there is, no fruit to be expected].984 The system presupposes a lot of perseverance (‘studium’ or ‘exercitio’). What has been understood with the mind must be followed by the hand – only a lot of practice makes the hand secure and free. 985 Den wegh, om zeker en gewis in het ordineeren te worden, is, datmen zich gewenne veel Schetsen te maken, en veel Historyen op ‘t papier te teykenen; want de wetenschap zal u weynich dienen, zoo gyze door geen oeffening vast krijgen.986 [The way, to become sure and sure in arranging, is, to get used to making many Sketches, and drawing many Events on paper; for science will be of little service to you, if you do not consolidate it by practice]. 144 Finally, acquiring this knowledge requires a certain innate talent (‘ingenium’).987 Masters should take into account variations in natural aptitudes of their students.988 For only with the help of Nature – in addition to doctrine (‘Theory’) and exercise ‘Practice’] – can someone become a good painter, says Van Hoogstraten.989 ‘Wanneer men vraegt, of de konst meest door de leeringe, dan of door de oeffeninge geholpen wort? Waer op wy antwoorden, dat de leeringe zonder de oeffeningen nietich is. En schoon de oeffeninge zonder de leeringe somtijts wel iets belooft, dat de konst tot geenderley volmaektheyt kan rijzen, ten zy men die gestaedich oeffene, en nae de onfeylbaere regels der leere bestiere’ [When asked whether art is helped most by teaching or by practice? To that we answer that study without practice is worth nothing. And while practice without the study may sometimes promise something, the art will never rise to perfection unless one practices it steadily and is guided by the infallible rules of learning].990 Alberti too stresses that a painter should cherish and enhance his natural gifts. 991 Here I have related only the basic instructions of the art, and by instructions, I mean that which will give the untrained painter the first fundamentals of how to paint well. These instructions are of such a nature that [any painter] who really understands them well both by his intellect and by his comprehension of the definition of painting will realize how useful they are. Never let it be supposed that anyone can be a good painter if he does not clearly understand what he is attempting to do. He draws the bow in vain who has nowhere to point the arrow.992 Thus, early modern painting resumes the classical notion of a balanced equilibrium between innate aptitude (natural talent, nature’s ‘poured-in gift’), a learnable set of rules, and steady and persistent practicing.993 In the classicist art theory this balance between the three parts will change and be replaced by a hierarchy.994 The comparison between writing and painting made by some early modern writers thus relates to education as a sequence of phases.995 The analogy lies in the step-by-step appropriation of rules (and not in the linear construction of a painting, as Baxandall once suggested). 996 The composition of a painted tableau has, as will be shown below, primarily to do with the correct choice of the ‘plot’ of an event. First, I have to answer the question what the early modern learning process consists of. The epistemological structure of the study process should not be confused with ideal ‘instructions for practice’ that might or might not provide a reliable picture of seventeenth-century learning, as Miedema argued.997 This concerns the question of what the learning process consists of according to early modern authors and what place ‘leering’ [theory] and ‘oeffening’ [practice] occupy within it (compare also Stevin’s views at this point). Van Hoogstraten 145 distinguishes three stages of ascending difficulty in the art of painting. Climbing these steps ultimately leads to the making of a grand work in which the painter tests the highest and most difficult degree of painting. In Alberti we read the same thing: whoever reaches this main and highest staircase shows himself to be an excellent master in all parts of art. 998 ‘En voorwaer, dezen graedt der Algemeenheit in de konst te bereyken, is zoo veel te waerdiger datm’er nae stae, om datze de krone der gloryen aen haere verwinners geeft, grooten loon nae zich sleept, en vol van vermaek is’ [And verily, the attainment of this degree of Generality in the arts is worth so much more than what we think of it, because it gives the victors the crown of glory, brings great rewards, and is full of enjoyment].999 Van Hoogstraten divides (with reference to natural philosophers) these three stages according to the three species (‘genera’) of life in Nature.1000 The first stage concerns living but motionless beings (such as plants, animals, herbs and gems that grow but are neither mobile nor sensitive). 1001 The second stage includes the living beings that move (the animals and human beings that follow their natural instincts and drifts and the events that result from them). ...in maer hoe veel wonderlijker is ‘t, het gevoogelte, dat door een gelijke kragt van de groeijende ziele zoo schoon met pluimen en veederen bekleet is, zich daer en boven te zien beweegen, en d’aerde verlaetende, door de dunne lucht heen te vliegen. Het ooge van de geringste kat verdooft al ‘t geschitter van de dierbaerste Diamant of Karbonkel; en met een woort gezegt, zoo is ‘t gedierte, dat zig beweegt en gevoelt, zoo veel heerlijker, en uitmuntender dan eenig ongevoelijk schepsel, als het leven uitmuntender en lofwaerdiger is, dan de doodt. (...) Want die de Historyen der dieren beschrijven zeggen, dat zy, yder nae haeren aert, dus of zoo doen: dat is, zy volgen haer natuer; min noch meer als een uurwerk, dat geen andere drift heeft, dan die de veeder aen ‘t raederwerk meededeelt.1002 [... and how much more wonderful it is, to see the fowl, so beautifully clothed with plumes and feathers by a same power of the growing soul, move up there, leave the earth and fly through the thin air. The eye of the smallest cat dulls all the brilliance of the most precious Diamond or Carbuncle; in a word, the animals that move and feel are so much more honourable and excellent than any improper creature, as life is more excellent and praiseworthy than death. (...) For those who describe the Events of the animals say, that, each according to its own nature, it does so or so: that is, it follows its nature; more or less like a clock, which has no other drift, than that which the springs of the clockwork give to it]. The third stage counts living beings that not only move physically, but also show a changing will (man alone). 1003 On the basis of this analogy, Van Hoogstraten arrives at a three-part division of painted tableaux, which he calls ‘species’ (Stevin mentions ‘afcomsten’ [descents]) and which he refers to using only terms 146 from Antiquity.1004 On the first stage are the ‘stillevens’ [still lifes] or Xenia (depictions of inanimate beings, like things, plants and fruits, ‘en al wat onder den naem van still even begreepen is’ [and all that is understood by the name of still[standing] life]. Bryson has pointed out that the ancient Xenia that can later be found throughout Europe as paintings were not interpreted normatively until the French Academy (c. 1660). Accepted as ‘fine art’, they became the least valued species within painting.1005 Although a first indication of this shift seems to be found in the work of Van Hoogstraten, namely when he speaks of ‘konstwerken’, with him here the emphasis is still on the ‘works’ derived from following the rules the art of painting,1006 and is this inferiority only established in the eighteenthcentury treatises of Houbraken and De Lairesse. 1007 The second stage is intended for ‘kabinetstukken’ [small chamber pieces] or Rhyparographi (depictions of various living creatures who go their natural way, such as satyrs, forest gods, farmers, shepherds, milkmaids, cows, shops of shoemakers or barbers, ‘Jan Hagels’ [in the seventeenth century a swear name for the common people, the mob]).1008 On the third and highest stage he places the ‘Historien’ [Generale Events] (the ‘general’ events, such as wars and heroic deeds or the ‘Schilderachtige en Poëtische Historien’ [Picturesque and Poetic stories], which are stored in the books by the thousands].1009 As an example, Van Hoogstraten treats in detail ‘t Vonnis van Paris seer schilderachtich vertoont’ [the very picturesque displayed Judgment of Paris].1010 From his vivid and lifelike description (‘ekphrasis’ or ‘descriptio’) based on Metamorphoses or The Golden Donkey, a work by Apuleius, of the visible properties of inanimate and living beings (color, substance, location) it is clear how much the first two stages are presupposed in the third: Hy zach, noch Ezel zijnde, het vonnis van Paris, als volgt, speelen. Den berg Ida was’er met groente besteeken, daer een zijpende bronne van boven af uitqueelde, eenige Geytjes schooren de kruiden. Een lustich jongeling was’er, als den Frygiaenschen Herder Paris toegemaekt, met een gebreyden lijfrok, een Barbarisch kleet om de schouder, en een gulden tulbant om ‘t hooft, zich veinzende over ‘t vee te heerschen. Daerby was noch een naekt jongeling, behaeglijk om zijn schoon geel hair, dat met klaerblinkende goude doppen deurvlochten en opgetoit was: een luchtich manteltie bedekte zijn flinke schouder, en zijn staf en roede meldden hem voor Merkuer te speelen. Hy quam al springende aengeloopen, en gaf een appel, met klatergout vergult, met de rechterhand aen hem, die Paris scheen, en met wijzen knikken en handgebaer melde hem Jupiters gebod, en wederom keerende pakte hem voort weêr uit het gezicht. Daer op volgde een dochter, eerlijk van weezen, als Juno, een witte Koninginne kroon omdrukte haer ‘t hooft, en haer hand was met een staf geladen. Daer drong noch een ander in, Minerve niet ongelijk, met een blinkende helm op ‘t hooft, zy verhief haren schilt, en zwikte de spies, even gelijk zy ten strijde gaet. Een derde verscheen’er noch, begaeft met uitmuntende lieflijkheit en Goddelijke verwe, beduidende Venus, recht in zulker gestalte, als toen zy noch maegt was: betoonende een allervolmaekte 147 schoonheit, in een byna naekt lichaem. De verwen haer dunne kleederen waren tweederley, als wit, beteyckenende het deel dat van den Hemel quam, en zeegroen dat van de Zee; zy wiert van maegden als Godinnen verzelt.1011 [He saw, as a donkey, the judgment of Paris, as follows. The mountain Ida was decorated with green trees, where from above water flowed from a well, and some goats were eating from the herbs. A handsome young man was made ready as the Phrygian Shepherd Paris, with a knitted skirt, a Barbarian robe around the shoulder, and a golden turban around the head, pretending to rule over the cattle. There was also a naked youth, attractive because of his beautiful, yellow hair, that was interwoven and decorated with bright shining gold studs; a light cloak covered his big shoulder, and his staff and rod indicated that he was playing Mercury. He came running up while jumping, and with his right hand he gave an apple, gilded with tinsel, to the one who appeared to be Paris, and with pointing, nodding and gesturing he told him Jupiter’s commandment, and then he turned around and disappeared from sight again. Then followed a daughter, honorable in appearance, like Juno, a white Queen’s crown pressed around her head, and her hand was filled with a staff. Then there was another, resembling Minerva, with a shining helmet on her head; she raised her shield, went down on her knees and aimed the spear as if she were about to go to combat. A third appeared, endowed with exquisite loveliness and divine color, signifying Venus, right in stature, as when she was yet a virgin: displaying a most perfect beauty, in an almost naked body. The colors of her thin clothes were twofold, such as white, which implied that this part came from Heaven, and sea green which came from the Sea; she was accompanied by virgins playing Goddesses]. In painting the different gradations of natural dignity, each higher step requires more strength and knowledge of the rules, Van Hoogstraten makes clear. Knowledge accumulates and whoever has appropriated all the rules may call himself master. This means that the appreciation of a painting is related to the work done: to the extent to which the rules of art were followed and to the amount of effort that was required to do so. ‘dat ’er zoo veel meerder kennis en konst tot het uitbeelden van een leevendig dier, als tot iet onberoerlijx vereyscht wort: dat de konst haer uiterste kracht van nooden heeft in de bedrijven der menschen, en dat de Schilderyen in waerde moeten gehouden worden nae de konst, die daer insteekt’ [because so much more knowledge and art is required to portray a living animal, than something that does not move: that art needs its utmost strength in executing human beings, and that Paintings should be appreciated given the art of painting that has been put into them].1012 For Van Hoogstraten, it is quite conceivable that within one of these three stages of painting, painters can outdo each other. And also, that painters of the first stage (like ‘still lifes’) are even more highly valued by their merits than their colleagues who make ‘kabinetstukken’ [chamber pieces] (second stage) or ‘Historiën’ [Events] (third stage).1013 In other words, the appreciation of the work 148 therefore does not depend primarily on the subject matter. In doing so, Van Hoogstraten in fact counters the currently accepted art historical interpretation, in which the learning stages or ‘genera dicendi’ are understood as ‘genres’, as paintings arranged according to theme. Instead of interpreting the ‘lowest’ stage as the first step in a learning process and the ‘highest’ stage as the third and last step in its completion, as Van Hoogstraten describes it, one nowadays interprets this classification as a moral and hierarchical series of subjects (from inferior to superior) that can be painted. 1014 Consequently, one speaks of ‘genre painting’ (because of the ‘worthless’, because of the everyday subjects that one painted following Nature) in terms of ‘simply painting’ or ‘simple imitation,’ in distinction to ‘history painting,’ which one designates (because of the ‘valuable,’ intellectual, and morally sophisticated ideas that they supposedly convey) in terms of ‘noble’ and ‘exalted’.1015 The direct consequence of Van Hoogstraten’s conception is that one of the modern motives for the rehabilitation of ‘genre painting’ is no longer valid. So, what counts in early modern thinking is painting according to the rules of art. Therefore, the painting in which the rules of art are fully realized merits the most esteem. On the other hand, a bad painting, analogous to a bad speech, is a work that presents too many things and has too little order and thus strikes the viewer with blindness.1016 Van Hoogstraten advises art lovers to take advantage of this knowledge of the rules of the art of painting and thus sharpen their judgment. Only a good painting meets all the rules of art: Maer dewijl ik aen liefhebbers gedenke, zoo moet ik u, ô konstliefdige zielen, ook dit te gemoed voeren: dat gy u wacht van den droessem der konst te beminnen: maer wilt gy uw hart op eenige Schilderyen zetten: zoo let eerst wel, of’er beminnends waerdige deugden in zijn; of de zaek, die verbeelt wort, wel zoo waerdigen inhout begrijpt, als van Clio vereyst wort; of de proportie ook zuiverlijk is waergenomen; of de kolorijten en schaduwen met de lessen van Terpsichore en Melpomene overeenkomen: of de doeningen en lijdingen ook haere rechte rol speelen? of de omstandicheden eygen zijn? of de schicking geestig is; en eyndelijk, of al deze deugden deur de gratien verbonden zijn? Want zoo gy u aen andere beuzelingen vergaept, zoo zijt gy den naem van liefhebbers onwaerdich.1017 [But while I am thinking of art lovers, I must suggest the following to you, O art-loving souls: that you keep far away from loving the drudgery of art: but if you want to pledge your heart to any painting, then first of all pay good attention to whether there are amiable virtues in it; whether the matter depicted contains a dignified content, as required by Clio; whether the proportion is also handled properly. Whether the colors and shadows correspond to the lessons of Terpsichore and Melpomene; whether the doings and passions also play their proper part? and whether the circumstances are in their element? whether the arrangement is ingenious; and finally, whether all these virtues are bound together by 149 grace? For if you stuff yourself with absurdities, you are unworthy of the name of art lover]. As mentioned above, organizing a ‘Historie’ is the most complex task, especially when it concerns an existing history or event.1018 The ‘istoria’ is the pinnacle of compositional ability.1019 In contrast to the phased narrative in which the tale is successively built on the basis of different acts, the painter is faced with the task of choosing from these in such a way that the story is clear at a glance. The painter thus transforms a linear ‘story’ into a ‘plot’ of simultaneity.1020 Several early modern authors indicate how this selective choice can be clarified on the flat plane. For example, by placing a figure that draws attention with gestures or points to what is happening there and elsewhere in the picture.1021 Another possibility is to give the important moments of the story or the main characters a central place in the painting, and not somewhere in a corner or at the back. 1022 Wanneer de zaek, die gy voorhebt, in uw verstant wel begrepen is, zoo neem, nae uw keur, een oogenbliklijke daedt, want de verkiezing eens Schilders is vryer, als die van en History Schrijver, zijnde deze verbonden de dingen van den grond op te verhandelen, daer een konstenaer plotseling of in het begin, in het midden, of wel in het eynde der Historie valt, nae zijn lust en goetdunken. Hy verbeelt of het voorgaene, het tegenwoordige, of het toekomende, en is niet verder verbonden, als men ‘t geene in een opslach der oogen tevens gezien kan worden, uit het eeuwich vervolg der zaeken te vertoonen. En dat op ‘t aller gevoeglijkste, schiklijkste, vermaeklijkste, levendichste, bevallijkste, en op ‘t onbekrompenste aen den dach te brengen. Deze vindinge nu vast staende, zoo moetmen die, als gezegt is, onophoudelijk overleggen.1023 [When the matter, which you are concerned with, is well understood in your mind, then, according to your preference, take a definite action, for the election of a Painter is more free, than that of the history-writer, who is compelled to tell things from the beginning, while an artist suddenly falls either in the beginning, in the middle, or even in the end of the History, according to his lust and good will. He imagines either the past, the present, or the future, and is not bound further than that one may see in one glance of the eyes what is at the same time, from which the sequel of things will forever appear. And this by bringing it to light in the most appropriate, most amusing, most vivid, most pleasing, and most openminded manner. Now that this finding is established, one must, as I have said, dwell on it unceasingly while painting]. In depicting some human event, the painter has the freedom to show his competence.1024 But in doing so, he is and remains subject to certain rules. 1025 The same applies to the imagining of one's own findings that springs from the brain 150 (swayed by reading rich histories). Never should the inexperienced imagination be given free rein, says Da Vinci.1026 One must properly portray one's knowledge of the event in three ways, says Van Hoogstraten. These points are already known from the previous sections. 1. the characters (recognizable figures and movements), 2. the doing (which is the subject of the event) and 3. the time (time of year and weather) must be right, but also the place (type of buildings, decorations, architectural elements, landscape) and the circumstances (characteristics of people, sex, age, hair, clothing, weaponry, household goods and animals). 1027 All of these parts must be handled in the proper way. Van Hoogstraten says about the landscape, for example: De Landschappen en uitzichten geeven aen de Historyen een groote welstant, maer zy moeten eygen en natuerlijk zijn. Want het waer belachelijk, dat men het heuvelige Britanje met Zwitserse klippen bestuwde, of dat men het bergachtig, en met Spelonken uitgeholde Palestine met Hollandsche weyden plaveyde. Dit zijn leugens in de konst.1028 [Landscapes and panoramas give great balance to the Events, provided they are suitable and natural. For it would be ridiculous to surround hilly Britannia with Swiss cliffs, or to pave mountainous, and cavernous Palestine with Dutch pastures. These are lies in art]. The purpose ‘bijwerk’ [additional side work] is to enhance the merit of the painting, to give it prosperity and to make it more pleasing to the eye.1029 The pejorative significance of the side work in many art-historical studies as marginal decoration, nor its overestimation by conceiving of it as the bearer of profound symbolism, therefore plays no role in early modern thought. This shows that the ‘Historie’ [‘istoria’] has two possible meanings in the early modern art of painting. The first is connected to the learning process and the general rules that a good ‘painted tableau’ must comply with by definition. The term then refers to ‘kunstdelen’ [parts of the art] that a student has to appropriate step by step. ‘What we now call “genre” in seventeenth-century painting’, Emmens writes, ‘called the seventeenth-century man himself, like Van Mander, “parts of art” – aspects of painting in which a hierarchical order had not yet been established’.1030 In the perfect execution and bringing together of these rules lies the dignity of a good painting. This general meaning of the term is confirmed by De Pauw-de Veen (1969), who points out that ‘historie’ does not indicate a specific subject in the art of painting. As a qualification of craftsmanship in the seventeenth century, it can be attributed to all kind of ‘genres’: in principle, it can 151 refer to any painted event. ‘The most important condition is the event: the presence of figures is not always enough’.1031 Secondly, ‘istoria’ refers to a concrete final product – in terms of rhetoric, the visual delivery [‘actio’, ‘pronuntiatio’]. In fact, it is also a product of an ordeal. Alberti and Van Hoogstraten underline that not all histories and events are equally suited to show graceful, passionate nudes and thus test their mastery. 1032 Imagining the mythical world of the gods is in fact the only category in which the painter can test all his skills.1033 Besides some Roman narratives, Old Testament scenes and the crucified Christ, it is mainly the Greek histories with their Canon of nudes that provide the painter with appropriate challenges.1034 Van Hoogstraten lists a whole series of classical nudes and semi nudes from which to draw.1035 The Christ nailed to the cross is suitable but, although naked, should be painted majestically.1036 The nude is generally accepted in early modern thinking, although here again the accents are different. Blunt writes for example: ‘For a painter like Bronzino or a theorist like Vasari painting consists primarily in the rendering of the naked human form, whereas an earlier Renaissance artist like Leonardo made human action and emotion his principal interest. To Michelangelo the naked human body was certainly the first object for the artist’s consideration, but, as we have seen, he saw in it a reflection of a spiritual and divine beauty, and in his later years he used it to convey intensely tragic feelings. For Vasari the nude was simply the unit in a jig-saw puzzle, to be twisted and fitted into a decorative scheme. Of course, the artist needed some excuse for painting the nude, and therefore he became ingenious in finding stories which could be supposed to involve naked figures, but the imagination was allowed much latitude in this’.1037 Paintings with a mythological or biblical history are thus the kind of paintings in which the ability to implement the rules comes to the fore. ‘The artist who was able to unite most of the art parts in a work – the history painter, in other words – [was] the greatest painter’ confirms Emmens this second meaning. 1038 Van de Waal follows up on this when he concludes: ‘In the visual arts, the history piece was considered the kind which surpassed all others, because it combined the difficulties of each separate kind in itself’.1039 The early modern treatises deal with the relations between painted events, craftsmanship and mastery. The abstract term ‘istoria’ that migrated from Italy (fifteenth century) to Holland (seventeenth century) during the early modern period is linked to terms such as ‘proefstuk’ [test piece] and ‘meesterschap’ [master]. It is a hallmark for the quality to which one is trained in the art of painting. A true master is the painter who has gone through all the stages of the art of painting and is able to execute all parts of the art himself. 1040 The acquisition of mastery is linked to the masterpiece in which the painter shows his skill: not only his knowledge of the rules (his judicious mind), but also his trained eye and the skilled handling of the brush.1041 De Pauw-de Veen points out that these terms from the medieval guild system are still abundantly present in the seventeenth 152 century. Both ‘masterpiece’ and ‘test piece’ have favorable meanings, which radiate to the painter who accomplishes this.1042 Van Hoogstraten confirms that when he writes: Poëten mogen door denken, maer Schilders moeten door doen, Meesters worden. Wy zullen iemant met hulpe der negen Zusteren wel van de kunst leeren spreeken, maer van niemant met dit onderwijs een Schilder maeken, ten zy hy de hand vlijtich aen ‘t werk sla. Een geduurige oeffening moet de oogen verklaeren, en ‘t pinseel moet metter tijt als in de hand aengroejen.1043 [Poets may think, but painters must become masters by doing. We will teach someone to speak of art with the help of the nine Sisters, but with this education you cannot make anyone a Painter, unless he puts his hand diligently to work. A continual practice should rejoice the eyes, and the brush should in time come to enjoy the hand]. An accomplished painter can put his knowledge and manual skills to work in any ‘historie’ or ‘gebeurtenis’. Not only ‘historie’ or ‘gebeurtenis’ but also mastery is therefore in early modern times in principle independent of the type of subject or the kind of history or event one paints. Deeze deugden by een te kunnen brengen maeken een volkomen meester uit: want in d’eerste toont hy zijnen edelen geest, wanneer hy een bezienswaerdige zaeke by de handt neemt, en verwonderlijke uitvindingen ten toon voert: in de tweede zien wy zijn groote ervarentheyt en vasticheyt in de Teykenkunst: in de derde zijn deurdringend vernuft, als hy de doeningen des lichaems, en de lijdingen des geestes uitbeelt; in de vierde wort men gewaer, dat hy in alle deelen der konst ervaeren, over al t’huis is, en tot alles raed weet: in de vijfde vertoont hy zijn meesterschap, wijl hy van veel deelen door ‘t ordineeren een geheel maekt, en zijn soldaeten als Hooftman in geleeden kan stellen: in de zeste en zevende deugden waer te neemen betoont hy geheelijk een Schilder te zijn, wanneer hy yder ding zijn natuurlijke verwe geeft, en de lichten en schaduwen behoorlijk waerneemt. Maer al deeze deugden zullen den welstant missen, ten zy’er de schoone verkiezinge, de bevallijke en levende vertooninge, en de lieflijke houdinge bykomt.1044 [To be able to bring these virtues together makes one a complete master: for in the first place he shows his noble mind, when he takes up a matter worth seeing, and displays wonderful findings: Secondly, we see his great experience and constancy in the Art of Drawing: thirdly, his penetrating ingenuity, when he portrays the doings of the body, and the passions of the mind; Fourthly, one realizes that he is experienced in all parts of the art, is at home in everything and knows how to deal with everything: fifthly, he shows his mastery, while he makes a whole out of many parts by putting them in order, and as Captain he can line up his soldiers: sixthly and seventhly by perceiving virtues he shows himself to be a Painter altogether, when he gives every thing its natural color, and observes 153 the lights and shadows appropriately. But all these virtues will lack the well-balancing, unless the beautiful selection, the graceful and living display, and the lovely pose are added]. Of course, Nature does not divide the talents equally between everyone. 1045 According to early modern writers, this explains why there are painters who practice only one ‘kunstdeel’ [part of the art] of painting. Van Hoogstraten emphasizes that it is more praiseworthy to excel in one part of the art than in all parts of the art only moderately.1046 With respect to Antique painters, it is recognized that some paint only human beings and others specialize in depicting faces, fruits, flowers, ships, children, dogs, and landscapes.1047 Since this stems from natural causes, it is best if painters with such a talent become competent in their own part, in which they can also excel. Moreover, the art of painting covers such a wide area that there is something for everyone.1048 Nevertheless, a good painter should never be satisfied with his lack of talent and neglect the other art parts.1049 Instead of acquiescing in it and sitting back, he must strive to fully master the rules of art in every painted tableau.1050 All in all, the contrast between ‘history painting’ and ‘genre painting’ stems from a false opposition. And the same goes for the gap that is assumed in art history between Italy and the Northern Netherlands. The first term ‘historieschilderkunst’ is a later corruption of Alberti’s ‘istoria’ and of the seventeenth-century term ‘historie’ as used by Van Hoogstraten, Van Mander and others. The term ‘istoria’ has a broader meaning because it does not refer to any particular genre or subjects. More important, however, is that in this term all the rules of the early modern art of painting come together. It was not until classicist art theory, at the end of the seventeenth century, that the first stage of the learning process was linked to inferiority. In the nineteenth century, this ‘kunstdeel’ [part of the art of painting] was completely detached from the early modern system and acquired an independent status as a category of subjects. These now ingrained but inappropriate connections (low level of learning, inferior status, and depicting trivial things), which iconologists have further accentuated, have made genre painting what it is today: the utter opposite of ‘history painting’. A contrast that in no way corresponds with the early modern writings on the art of painting. The second consequence of this analysis is that Pieter de Hooch’s ‘kamergezicht’ [chamber scape] acquires a different status. Making a worthy ‘istoria’ is not bound to a specific subject. Nowhere are there indications, neither from Alberti nor from Van Mander or Van Hoogstraten, that only certain narratives give the painting dignity. On the contrary, the dignity of a painting stands and falls with the skill of the painter to depict any subject. In principle, everything from Nature or the visible world is at the painter’s disposal. The only condition is, as De Grebber and others say, that the painter depicts ‘waerachtige 154 geschiedenissen’ [credible events].1051 Van Hoogstraten therefore encourages painters to come up with new findings, provided that human events are depicted according to the rules of the art of painting. If ‘istoria’ is a work in which the system of ‘schilderkunstige’ [painterly] rules emerge in full thanks to innate talent and industrious effort, then new findings spawned from the early modern context are no problem. Rather, they are the result of an incitement inherent in the early modern art of painting. Because the early modern art of painting is about abstract rules, a comparison of De Hooch’s work with mythological or biblical paintings is still possible. The ‘istoria’ is not determined by certain subjects and even less by the intellectualism that classicism attributes to certain paintings. The paintings by De Hooch and many other Dutch painters of the time fit entirely within the framework defined by early modern authors. However, the classic ‘kamergezicht’ that flourished in Holland between 1650 and 1670 did not come out of the blue. It turns out to be a sediment of many experiments in visual culture that were tested in the previous centuries. This means that criteria were not only formulated, but also commented on, confirmed and undermined. As a result, the ‘chamber scape’ has become its own ‘species’, has its own ‘afcomst’ and that has its own rules. Thus, Pieter de Hooch and many others, on the flat surface and following the rules of the art of painting, brought about their own balanced "element" in which a specific selection of bodies, objects and substances meet appropriately in the house. The next section deals with the genealogy of this new finding. 155 4.2.2. Pictorial Archive and the Chamber Scape as Sediment The emergence of the Dutch chamber scape around the middle of the seventeenth century has been explained in various ways in literature and seen as part of all kinds of developments: as a result of the free market, of the need for its own bourgeois identity, as a consequence of the Peace of Münster, as an effect of the increasing realism of Dutch painting, of a growing national consciousness, of the decline of religious art due to by iconoclasm (‘Beeldenstorm’, 1566) that stimulated the development of profane art, as an expression of the changing relationship between the sexes or as a result of a general increasing need among the people for ordinary visual material. 1052 Although these are mainly ‘social’ and ‘societal’ factors, most explanations reveal an awareness of the visual kinship between this phenomenon and Flemish painting from the fifteenth century, from which Dutch painting developed as a matter of course. Haak summarizes this as follows: ‘The development of these specific themes into independent paintings is generally explained by the detachment of these subjects from the traditional history painting. Reference is always made to Flemish religious art of the fifteenth century, in which the attention paid to the side work was strikingly great; the perfect execution of still lifes, landscapes and interiors makes one suppose a love for these unimportant everyday things in relation to the main motif, from which the interest of seventeenth-century Dutch painters emerged as a matter of course’.1053 The Flemish Primitives in general, and the work by Jan van Eyck (c. 13901441) in particular, are considered to be the foundation and breeding ground of the Dutch chamber scape.1054 In 1937, Lucy von Weiher wrote: ‘Das eigentümlich Niederländische in den Raumdarstellungen des Jan van Eyck, das die Nachfolger fast zweier Jahrhunderte bewahren, soll dennoch als Anknüpfungs- und Anfangspunkt herausgestellt werden’ [The peculiarly Dutch character of Jan van Eyck’s depictions of space, preserved by his successors for almost two centuries, should nevertheless be emphasized as a point of connection and departure].1055 Only recently this stereotypical image was used in the Western European history of the house. ‘In den Niederlanden zieht sich die Ästhetik der Häuslichkeit wie ein roter Faden von den ambivalenten profanen-sakralen Interieurs des frühen 15. Jahrhunderts zu den nicht minder ambivalenten, moralisch-realistische Interieurs des 17. Jahrhunderts’ [In the Netherlands, the aesthetics of domesticity runs like a thread from the ambivalent profane-sacred interiors of the early 15th century to the no less ambivalent moral-realist interiors of the 17th century].1056 Although the existence of a certain continuity between the Southern and Northern Netherlands is a plausible idea, it is hardly supported by arguments. 1057 At most, 156 the influx of artists after the fall of Antwerp (1585) is mentioned. For the rest, there remains a gap of two and a half centuries. There are two reasons that in this section devoted to the provenance of the Dutch chamber scape, I nevertheless reach back to Van Eyck and some of his contemporaries. First of all, a visual genealogy of the house in early modern Europe cannot ignore the Flemish Primitives. Their religious scenes take place in a clearly articulated architectural setting. In doing so – partly in the light of the previous section – I want to approach Flemish painting not so much as an exception to an art historical tradition but as part of the system of early modern painting. Around 1400, European art was largely dominated by the international style. It is worth following various regional developments from here and identifying their differences. It turns out that other visual sources also play a role in this genealogy: one can think of medieval miniatures and illuminations on which ‘domestic’ scenes can regularly be found (bp.4.93, bp.496.1).1058 Or think of Italian painting which, in addition to antique mythological scenes, generated many ‘domestic Christian scenes’ until the seventeenth century (bp.4.96.3-5). However, the latter emerge not so much in art-historical studies, but in (arthistorically speaking) ‘marginal’ studies that systematically address, for example, the development of the Italian interior or of the Renaissance study (bp.4.102).1059 A second reason to investigate this genealogy stems from the question of what happens in this period that separates the Flemish Primitives from the Dutch seventeenth-century chamber scapes. From the middle of the fifteenth century onwards, Europe has been marked by various developments in the visual arts for some one hundred and fifty years. For Italy, the period 1525-1600 is regarded as ‘mannerism’ and associated with ‘paintings in sharp acid colors, with figures writhing in curiously distorted perspective’.1060 The term, despite its social connotations, is primarily understood as a collection of artistic-aesthetic phenomena with a ‘bewildering range of meanings’. As such, from an arthistorical point of view, it is an intermezzo between High Renaissance and Baroque.1061 For the Netherlands and Germany, the emphasis is usually on changes that took place in the period 1470-1600. It is a period known for its social unrest: witch hunt and battle of the sexes, religious schisms and political change determine the historical picture. In woodcuts, prints and engravings, but also in pamphlets, illustrated books and paintings, new, social subjects are touched upon. In addition, there are remarkable visual phenomena: emblems and anamorphoses, grotesques and collections of curiosities appear. New genres are emerging such as the kitchen and market piece (bp.4.147), 1062 the (flower) still life (bp.4.162, bp.4.163),1063 the landscape (bp.4.161) and the portrait (bp.4.111). As an explanation of these developments in the visual arts, it is generally pointed out that societal developments have an impact on visual production. In spite of its artistic-aesthetic connotations, this image production is primarily approached in social terms: it is understood as a visual reaction – criticism on or affirmation of – 157 social changes taking place, showing a reversible world (‘De Verkeerde Wereld’ [The World Upside Down] ‘Vrouwenlisten’ [The Power of Women], ‘Het Bedorven Huishouden’ [The Decayed Household], ‘Jan de Wasser’ [John the Launderer], ‘De strijd om de broek’ [The Battle for the Trousers], et cetera). A historian like Muchembled, for example, considers a painter like Brueghel, who represents the taste of the elite, to be a ‘cultural mediator’.1064 And it is not uncommon for the changing social position (of citizens, of women) to serve as one of the arguments to explain the increase in certain images. The latter is the case, for example, with the so-called ‘vrouwenlisten’ [The Power of Women].1065 ‘The popularity of the theme during this period may be related to what is called the new morality of marriage: the interest in and appreciation of marriage and the family, under the influence of the emancipation of the urban elite in the Netherlands and in German cities, the Reformation and humanism. In view of the large number of sixteenth-century texts – instructional works, prose novels and theatrical plays – on the organization of marriage and the division of tasks between men and women, as well as the large number of prints on this subject, these must have been very topical themes. The flourishing of the women’s tricks theme can be seen as a derivative of this, although it has its own tradition and intentions’.1066 Another reasoning focuses on the free market. The market is becoming increasingly important, the audience is growing and the need for prints is increasing. Image production becomes technically faster and cheaper, and the content becomes correspondingly less elitist and more superficial.1067 Miedema considers it likely ‘that the buying public differed, so that, even in the sixteenth century, it could consist in part of buyers who perhaps did not care too much about the learned aspects of iconography. It is just as obvious to assume that at the same time there must have been an audience for whom this erudite content remained important and that perhaps it was precisely by hiding this content behind seemingly simple, everyday representations that it managed to get rid of the ignorant vulgus’.1068 In short, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, buyers seem to have come to the fore from a segment of the population that ‘didn’t care much about content and just wanted something on the wall to look at; or who wanted to own a painting because distinguished people had it too’.1069 In this section I want to take the opposite route by not treating images as illustrations of societal changes. Not only because no direct link can be made between them. But also, because certain presuppositions easily creep in. Presuppositions which, incidentally, are regularly based on an interpretation of literary texts and visual material from earlier times, as was the case, for example, with Norbert Elias. Instead, I want to investigate what happens to the images themselves. I want to ask the question to what extent all kinds of depictions from this time testify to a transformation of the image as such. I would also like to say something about the social consequences that this ‘imaginary’ transformation may 158 have had in the early modern era. Only when this transitional period has been clarified can the appearance of the chamber scape in the course of the seventeenth century be explained. The wedding portrait of Giovanni Arnolfini and Jeanne Cenami by Jan van Eyck is often cited as a forerunner of the later Dutch interiors (bp.4.92).1070 This painting shows a number of characteristics that recur in the chamber scapes by Pieter de Hooch. It shows a ‘transparent’ plane with, on the one hand, a pattern of lines that generates the division into floor, walls and ceiling and, on the other hand, different types of vistas (such as the window, the mirror that reflects the window, the bed box, etc.). With these characteristics, Van Eyck’s work is preeminently a forerunner of the later ‘domestic landscape’. The bodies and their properties are made visible by means of the art of reflection, colors and gestures. Domestic objects, clothing and furniture are in their element, along with the living beings, the human figures and the dog. In many studies one finds remarks about the feeling of intimacy that has been documented here for the first time. 1071 In addition, the studies extensively examine the iconographic meanings of this painting. But this symbolic-semantic layer is only one of the levels that play a role. In a broader sense, the painting also complies with the rules of the art of painting as formulated by Alberti at about the same time. An important objection to the status of this portrait as an early predecessor of De Hooch’s chamber scape is that it does not present an everyday theme. It depicts the wedding ceremony as a one-time rite of passage. This is the only sacrament one was still allowed to perform (by the laying on of hands). 1072 Moreover, this portrait is the only one of its kind, which makes its status as the ‘origin’ of the chamber scape more than two centuries later questionable. Perhaps the genealogical provenance of domestic tableaux can be determined in a different way. One can think of the book illuminations as they were produced in France during the fourteenth century. Or to Italian frescoes from the same period, such as those by the Lorenzetti brothers.1073 As Panofsky once remarked, in this period Europe functioned artistically as a communicating vessel in which Byzantine influences reached via Italian artists to England, Germany, Flanders, Bohemia, France and Spain. Especially the French and Bohemian court occupied a special place. Both were first and foremost centers for the distribution and circulation of artistic developments. 1074 For a long time, Paris was the center where artists from all over travelled to and then, laden with knowledge, spread themselves across Europe again. 1075 According to Panofsky, the fourteenthcentury French-Flemish illumined books showed all kinds of features that came to the fore in the Renaissance: the detailing of the landscape, the tiled floor in a chamber, light and shadow, attention to the rendering of human flesh and architectural shortening. This art of illumination came to an end in the middle of the fifteenth century, which according to Panofsky had less to do with the rise of 159 the art of printing than with the adoption of these characteristics by panel painting.1076 The collective universe is evident, among other things, in the shift that occurred in the treatment of the ‘domestic interior’ during the fourteenth century. At the beginning, Panofsky distinguishes the so-called ‘doll’s house’, which simultaneously shows the interior and exterior of a chamber: with roof and ceiling, but without a façade.1077 The second step forms the ‘doll’s parlor’, in which a differentiated interior chamber is suggested by the all-embracing wall with windows and by a continuous tiled floor. 1078 The third variant is the so-called ‘interior by implication’, in which both the interior and the external landscape seem to expand infinitely.1079 As an extension of this, a transformation is taking place from a domestic to a church setting, which continues into the fifteenth century.1080 And finally, at the end of the fourteenth century, the exterior was opened frontally: the portal (which sometimes almost coincides with the framing) offers a vista into the chambers in the house, which receive their light through windows in the wall.1081 It is striking that they are often New Testament scenes placed in a domestic setting: special events such as the Annunciation (bp.4.94) and the birth of Christ (bp.4.95.2-9 and 11-12).1082 Furthermore, the birth of Mary and of John the Baptist are depicted in domestic interiors (bp.4.95.1, bp.4.95.10, bp.4.96).1083 Meiss (1945) points out that ‘the house’ lends itself pre-eminently as a form to the combination of light as a divine metaphor, the uninterrupted penetration of sunlight through the glass of a window and the announcement of the miraculous pregnancy of the Virgin Mary and the birth of Christ.1084 In medieval theological writings this is a well-known theme from the 9th century onwards, for example described by Bernardus of Clairvaux (1091-1153).1085 But the image of the sunlight and the glass had already been expressed before as a metaphor for the miraculous conception by the Eastern church father Athanasius (Alexandria, 296373): Hear the mystery: Just as a house enclosed on all sides which has toward east a clean, thin glass window and, when the sun rises, its rays penetrating and [passing] through the glass brighten the whole house, and again with the passing of the sun and the withdrawal of the rays the glass is not shattered, but remains undamaged by the incoming and outgoing vibrations of the solar rays: thus you may understand the everlasting virginity of Mary. For the most chaste person, as a kind of house when it is enclosed, the son and the word of God are as a divine ray descending from the sun, Father of Justice, which, having entered through the glass window of her ears, has illuminated its most holy house and again ... has 160 gone out, without even in the least having despoiled her virginity, but just as before birth, also in birth and after birth has preserved the chastity of the Virgin.1086 The sacred house is always shown as an everyday business (bp.4.98.1-4). The bed (with the young mother) and the table (with crockery) are in use (bp.4.96). The chamber is populated by a few women, sometimes by Joseph and some pets. 1087 The cradle with the newborn is rocked, the porridge stirred, the child fed, the laundry is dried by the fireplace, the sheets are shaken, and the food tasted or brought in.1088 This tradition of the sacred house is continued in the oil paintings by Van Eyck, the Master of Flémalle (Campin: 1375-1444), Petrus Christus (contemporary of Van Eyck), Rogier van der Weyden (1399-1464) and Dirc Bouts (1410-1475). But these themes can also be found in frescoes and panels by fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Italian painters (bp.4.98.5-6). Both the Annunciation and the Nativity continue to take place in ‘open’ architectural settings (bp.4.94. 4-16, bp.4.95.3-11). There are shifts, though. Sometimes the place of action is a church (as in book illuminations). Sometimes the Virgin sits on an elevated throne, a Byzantine form that is characteristic of an Italian Madonna type that survived until the seventeenth century (bp.4.99.3,5 and 8). In addition, from the fifteenth century onwards, a type appears that shows Mary humbler and more like a mother (bp.4.99.1,2,4,6,7).1089 The tableaux are often equipped with multicolored tile patterns, rugs or household objects (a jug, a table, a fireplace, a candle, a glass decanter, a towel, a cupboard), we regularly find a window, with a direct view on the landscape outside. In other words, many characteristics attributed to the Arnolfini portrait can generally be discerned in Flemish and Italian (and French) paintings in the early modern period. The religious scenes that take place in the house can be divided into a number of categories (bp.4.97). First the Madonna with child (sometimes surrounded by angels, bishops or the patron). Mary, standing or sitting on the throne or couch, has almost always lowered her eyes. The child Jesus (flowed against her, sometimes sitting on her lap or on a pillow, sometimes lying on his belly) is held by her with one or two hands. Sometimes she breastfeeds the child, sometimes they rest after feeding, sometimes they look together in a book. A second category that takes place in the house is the Annunciation (bp.4.94). Mary (right in the scene, kneeling, eyes slightly to the left and a book near her) and the Archangel Gabriel (left in the scene, winged, sometimes with cross, ray of light of the Holy Spirit) bringing her the joyful message. Earlier miniatures showed an architectural separation, where Mary is in a separate compartment and the Archangel shows a banderole with the announcement. In the more ‘homely’ chambers (kewttle on the fire, pillows comfortably arranged, shutters open, bed 161 neatly covered) this has been replaced by a symbolic division: a lily in a vase in Flemish paintings and in Italian paintings in the hand of the angel.1090 A third category is formed by the Holy Family (bp.4.98). We see Mary, the Child (who gets the breast or plays with a necklace) and Joseph. Further household goods (a glass chalice, a knife, a dish, a vase, a neatly folded cloth) and food (grapes, a pomegranate, cherries). Sometimes the family is seated at the meal. Compared to the earlier miniatures, the scene becomes more extensive: not only do the paintings have a larger size, but also the members of the family occupy a larger part of the surface area of the painting. Sometimes there is so much zooming in on Mother and Son that only a back wall with a window remains of the chamber (bp.4.97). Around 1500 the Holy Family expands temporarily. Anna-te-Drieën [Madonna and Child with Saint Anne] and Heilige Maagschap [Extended Holy Family] are popular themes that are depicted (bp.4.132.1).1091 In Italy, the holy kinship took a slightly different form during this period, namely that of the Visitation of Mary to Elisabeth. In these scenes, everyday objects, such as the chair, the bed, and ordinary actions, such as reading a book, are placed in a religious context. The same goes for the table in two respects. On the one hand, the table is used to eat together like at the Last Supper or at the Wedding at Cana (bp.4.100).1092 On the other hand, the table is the place in the house where writing is done: Saint Jerome is given a windowed study, equipped with many everyday household items. (bp.4.102). Not only in Flanders, but also in Italy and Germany we find such scenes. Other Christian stories, such as ‘The dream of St. Ursula’ (bp.4.146.2), are also located in the house.1093 Parallel to this Christian topography, there has been a profane interest in the interior that manifested itself until the fifteenth century. 1094 Daily events (sleeping, bathing, spinning, playing chess, ball games) are ornamentally framed by architectural elements (bp.4.101.1-4). Also on festive occasions, such as at court (donating a manuscript, giving a banquet), the chambers, household goods and furniture are clearly depicted. Thus, during the early modern period, various regional emphases were established in the depiction of the house. Some scenes appear to be quite enduring and are made into the sixteenth, sometimes even seventeenth century. Yet the house as a sacred place, at least in the image, is beginning to fall apart. Before the Counter-Reformation takes shape, the Holy Family and related events, with a few exceptions (bp.4.98.7,8.11-12), have left the house. The Holy Family, Joseph as a young and vital spouse, remains a muchpainted subject, also in the Republic, but the location has changed: the scene is situated outside or limited to a presentation of the Holy Family as a group with no indication of location. (bp.4.98.6, 9, bp.4.132.4). From the middle of the fifteenth century onwards, the imagination in Europe underwent a number of general changes that ultimately also had repercussions on the visualization of the house. I will mention three changes that will last into the 162 seventeenth century. First, as the secondary literature emphasizes, a larger number of issues is made visible. Not only in paintings, but also in the reproducible prints. The observations are based on inventories of all kinds of things, animals and human beings that populate the world.1095 Household goods and war gear, flora and fauna, landscapes and buildings are disassembled in parts, put together in a drawing and thus documented (bp.4.104 - bp.4.110, bp. 4.112).1096 Series are made, and species are classified. Model books dissect animals into their constituent parts: cats, dogs and birds, as well as donkeys, horses, mice, frogs, monkeys, snakes, fish and insects. Even elephants, bears and lions are not missing (bp.4.108). The decomposition and categorization of human bodies became part of this from the fifteenth century onwards and took systematic forms from the end of the sixteenth century onwards.1097 The analysis of the human body occupies a large part of early modern drawing books. From all sides, the body parts are viewed and examined so that they can be placed on the flat plane. Heads, lips, noses, chins, ears and eyes, lower legs, forearms, feet, hands, fingers and torsos are placed on the flat plane in the form of lines (bp.4.109, bp.4.110, bp.4.112). During this same period, numerous series emerged that explored the question ‘how does a man’s body stand, walk, turn, run, lie or sit?’ and visualized this on the flat plane (bp.4.117, bp. 116). But also: how does a man’s body carry a tile, does it raise a club, or does it stand at rest? (bp.4.117.2,3,5-6). Or how does one depict a dead body? (bp.4.116.9). Similar observations lead to drawings of lying, sitting, standing and sleeping woman’s bodies (bp.4.117.9-18, bp.4.116.9, bp.4.127.7-9). The clothing one wears and the way it folds is dissected and displayed (bp.4.122). The labor performed by the human body (churning, sowing, raking, mowing, cooking, sawing) is also depicted in all its details (bp.4.129, bp.4.130). Or all possible ways in which children play (bp.4.128). Human figures are distinguished by pose or behavior that is drawn and painted in abundant variations and from all sides. Especially combinations of human bodies, the way body parts move – limbs bending, kinking, twisting, stretching and intertwining – and how to depict that on the flat surface seems to fascinate many people. In this way, bodies in the form of double figures or groups become visual units. All these phenomena have no unequivocal iconographic meaning. But as a visual composition they can be used in a variety of scenes, as Van den Akker (1991) argued in response to the double figure in Italian drawings from the end of the fifteenth century onwards. ‘They form a group of two figures, one lying down and the other standing, who are fighting each other’. He discusses it as part of the visual repertoire that the painter had at his disposal and on which he can vary when needed. The visible vehemence of the bodies is therefore first 163 and foremost the result of a visual examination of the mutual matching of bodies and their limbs.1098 The result of this inquisitive attitude of early modern draughtsmen and painters is an enormous reservoir in which all conceivable forms are mapped out. They are visible answers to the question of how a caring mother is portrayed, how a couple embraces each other, or how dancing peasants, walking spouses, playing musicians or gracefully turning courtiers end up well-balanced on paper or canvas. But also, how fighting soldiers and quarrelling farmers, how flying angels or playing children look like in a credible way (bp.4.123, bp.4.124, bp.4.125, bp.4.128, bp.4.132). The concrete knowledge thus stored in eye and hand, through observation and practice, finds its way into the entire visual production of early modern times. The visual knowledge is linked to traditional histories, originating from the Bible or classical mythology. For example, the portrayal of the naked male body draws on episodes from the Passion (such as Lamentation and Entombment, bp.4.119). Or the depiction of St. Sebastian – the winding naked body pierced with arrows (bp.4.118) – becomes popular as an appropriate context. In these narratives male nudes are ‘in their element’, and the physical qualities can be worked out in full and in every detail by the artist. Biblical scenes are thus useful to show intertwined bodies, swelling muscle bundles, high-contrast colors, lights and shadows. In a similar way there are narratives within which it is appropriate to show a female nude, such as The Three Graces, Adam and Eve or The Rape of the Sabine Women (bp.4.120). Particularly classical tales in which women are naked, such as Leda and the Swan (bp.4.151.1) or the Susanna and the Elderly, are borrowed from mythology to be able to depict the female nude in all her luxuriant curves using colors, lights and shadows, on the flat surface. According to Alberti and Van Hoogstraten, the required decorum is only met when nudes are embedded in an entourage known from tradition. Thus, the human landscape appears as a finding of Italian provenance, which becomes widespread in early modern Europe. It is being investigated how human figures can be brought to a new and balanced configuration on the flat plane. The flat plane fills with a profusion of nudes trying to find a pose together (bp.4.148). Not only in Italy and the Southern Netherlands, but also in the Northern Netherlands such fleshly ensembles are known.1099 Scantily clad nudes seem to feel at home in many contexts: floating in the sky, sitting on clouds, lounging in the meadows, in water, under triumphal arches, between columns, with flapping draperies or in huge halls and loggias. Nudes are ‘in their element’ in many mythological and biblical locales, embedded in a suitable side work: arcadian landscapes, heavenly atmospheres, embellished entourages based on ancient pagan tales are evoked before your eyes. Only in the clearly defined early 164 modern chamber scape are nudes not in their element: they are conspicuous by their absence. Across this line, which remains traceable throughout the early modern period, a second line is visible. In the period from 1450 to 1600, the picture plane changes status. Visual elements are rearranged, the observed living and inanimate beings and things are mixed. On paper and on canvas, the cards are reshuffled. In the visions of Hildegard of Bingen (died 1197), heaven and earth, saints and monsters, virgins and angels, houses and enclosures, flowers and trees are united in their flatness on the conventionally arranged flat plane (bp.4.134). This medieval flat plane to which the whole cosmos could resort (bp.4.135), becomes flexible in all kinds of directions. A background that is no longer made of gold, silver, red or blue, but will show all the characteristics of a real landscape with hills and valleys, horizon and sky. The plane is opened, for example, by the insertion of a line pattern of abbreviations and figures that have acquired physicality (bp.4.136, but also bp.2.39, bp.5.12, bp.5.13). The tableau on the plane can be stretched and skewed in all sorts of ways, in the same way as Dürer suggested with his heads, challenging the eye to put the tableau in order (bp. 4.137, bp.4.138). All figures endowed with physicality are associated, mixed and combined independently of size and scale. The figures appear to be assembled from different types of creatures, figures can be combined with remarkable attributes, such as in personifications or allegories (bp.4.142.1-3, bp.4.145). The flat plane exhibits relief which, over decades, allows the most diverse forms to spread out across the plane in an endless series of juxtapositions. Next to and among each other, similar, but also unrelated, figures are entrusted to a common ground. Monsters (in the early modern sense of the word), ranging from wild people, angels, forest people, limping and crawling human beings, satyrs, exotic people and weird animals are visual findings of this period (bp.4.140 - bp.143). Bodies are made up of disparate pieces limbs taken from different kinds of creatures or objects, such as in the case of Hieronymus Bosch, Lucas Cranach, Giulio Campagnola and Marcantonio Raimondi (bp.4.146). Body openings are unexpectedly used, bodies are plugged into or put on top of each other, so that the result is ‘monstrous’ and ‘inappropriate’. Branches and leaves, roots and flowers as well as pears, grapes, maize, onions, artichokes and garlic are used as ‘meat substitutes’ to modulate the human face (bp.4.146.9-10).1100 Meat and vegetables are piled up within the frame, overwhelming the image with colors and shapes. (bp.4.147). But fools, Death and magicians also present themselves and meet somewhere in corners and holes on the visual plane. Wrestling, jumping and spinning young women, in combination with certain objects and devils, take on forms that come to be called ‘witches’ (bp.4.144.4-11). Themes such as ‘The Temptation of Saint 165 Anthony’, ‘The Last Judgement’ or The Garden of Earthly Delights’, but also imaginations of a magician or astrologer, are eminently suitable findings for placing heaven and earth, saints and monsters, men and women, fools and witches, together to form a visible world which on the face of it bears resemblance to reality, but which is turned upside down precisely because of it (bp.4.141.1-5).1101 Jointly subjected to the concrete knowledge of the visible world that artists now possess, all kinds of shapes are placed on the flat plane that – through their visibility – acquire credibility. (bp.4.144).1102 Impossible beings are endowed with visibility on the flat plane and thus become imaginable realities. Objects and figures become neighbors because they share the same common ground, not because they are together in a shared element. Satyrs and virgins, dragons and babies, angels and mothers are associated with each other. Limbs become entangled and colors shift. Material and surface are combined in an unusual way – as is the case with Goltzius applying pen to canvas (bp.4.139.1). Existing and imaginary worlds are brought together visually, visions and dreams merge into one another. A process that in its formal treatment is very similar to clips, computer games and film as we know it today (bp.4.146). According to similar operations, existing categories can also be treated. In his work Brueghel brings together an endless variety of events and gestures, which are seemingly brought together by titles such as ‘Fair’, ‘Peasant Wedding’, ‘Proverbs’ and ‘Children’s Plays’ (bp.4.141.1-5, bp.4.152.1 and 3).1103 But also peasant quarrels, fighting card players in all their diversity and interconnectedness are driven together on the flat plane to which they must obey (bp.4.152.4).1104 The sexes also meet on this stage of visibility. They too are inserting themselves into the visual register, with antique and biblical themes like ‘Vrouwenlisten’ [The Power of Women] serving as appropriate histories, especially in fifteenth and sixteenth-century Dutch and German printmaking. 1105 Lucretia, Samson and Delilah, Virgil in the basket, Joseph seduced by Potiphar’s wife, Salome with the head of John the Baptist, Judith and Holofernes, Aristotle ridden by Phyllis, all propose visible rearrangements of the usual relationship between woman and man (bp.4.167.5-7, bp.4.153.10).1106 The rearrangements become real because the flat plane and the rules of the art of painting basically allow for all poses, including these reversals – seeing becomes believing. The house where the sexes come across each other as a matter of course also turns out to be a place of regrouping and inversion. The well-known themes such as ‘The Battle for the Trousers’, ‘Unequal love’, ‘The Bad Household’ and ‘Jan de Wasser’ bear ample witness to this (bp.4.153.1-6).1107 Usually these themes are interpreted as a visual sign of societal unrest and as a vivid expression of shifting social relations: everything in and around the house seems to be in turmoil and upside down.1108 However, revising the order can also be understood in terms of the art of painting. Within the frame and on the flat plane, various figures and shapes can be made according to the rules of art. But the lines and 166 fields, outlines and colors, possess the ability to do so in many ways in a credible way. Things are ‘in their element’ when they are located on the flat plane according to a number of conventions. These correct contexts, often known from tradition, need to be retrieved in order to dress up a scene properly, according to the early modern authors. Old and New Testament stories, but also apocryphal and mythological narratives or otherwise literary frames in which men and women test, stretch and reverse the norms, turn out to serve as suitable frames. These inversion scenes, familiar from the Western European literary tradition, are retrieved, revived and re-enacted in this period of visual unfolding and multiplication in all their variety and differentiation.1109 A plural and layered imaginary world is excavated from European classical memory, allowing visual forms to proliferate, in endless combinations and gradations. It is noteworthy, however, that this rule in the art of painting is at odds with the common idea of art historians that the purpose of a picture is primarily didactic and that it is principally about expressing, transmitting and communicating a moral narrative. 1110 Although early modern writings clearly demonstrate the importance of an appropriate narrative – and thus a semantic context must always be activated in a print or painting – the emphasis in early modern thought on the art of painting is on the suitable visual delivery of the tableau and how it intervenes in the existing word and image complexes. The (symbolic) interpretation of all kinds of visual elements – as happens in iconology or semiotics – can only contribute to the study of the early modern signifying practice if it is calibrated on the basis of the early modern art of painting. This can only be done, as I explained in my methodological chapters (Chapters 1.2., and Chapters 5.2.1., 5.2.2., 5.2.3. and 5.2.4.) on the basis of epistemological and historiographical questions formulated at a meta-level.1111 In the early modern period, conventions of imagination are laid down, but also stretched, changed, undermined and literally turned upside down. This results in new combinations in which nothing seems to be in its element anymore. Painted, drawn and engraved tableaus only seem to depict chaos. However, the fierce turmoil that occurs in the visual register is primarily conventional in nature, not societal or moral.1112 In the Western history of the arts there has been more often such a transformation of conventions. On the one hand, conventions in which the primacy lies with the imagination and the image is directed toward a (transcendental, three-dimensional or psychological) depth, and on the other hand, codes that fix the eye on the painted, signified and ordered surface. In the early modern period, the handling of depicting the visible world seems to change in general. Old visual types are disassembled, the parts are ‘taken out of their element’ and disconnected, as can be seen in many surviving sketches, woodcuts, prints and engravings between 1450 and 1550. 1113 New combinations and figures of different provenance are put together on the flat plane, sometimes referring to a 167 ‘classic element’, but often not. Heavenly and earthly, biblical and mythical, man and woman, witch and saint, mundane and fantastic, peasant and wild, word and image. This sometimes leads to a fierce visual mix, such as prints and engravings, but also paintings of warring factions, fighting people of all kinds, monstrous combinations and grotesques from this period show. And not only in the Netherlands (where visual complexity in historical literature is primarily referred to as a reflection of social and societal unrest), but also in Italy (where visual complexity in art-historical literature is referred to in terms of artistic artificiality, refinement and stylization, as in ‘mannerism’).1114 Reality and fiction are seemingly indistinguishable and that allows for different interpretations. Viewed from the art of painting, we indeed witness a genuine ‘Beeldenstorm’ [storm of images, iconoclasm] in the midst of the early modern era. Fixed conventions that had long determined the presentation and arrangement of events and histories on the flat plane were blown up and shaken. Through the art of painting, new rules and conventions have be n articulated that have opened up the flat plane according to the different layers that the visible world knows. From the visual archive of this period, it emerges that now old and new, existing and monstrous creatures also claim their place in that new visible world that rules the painted plane. However, the rivalry of conventions and the associated visual disorder on the picture plane appears temporary: the grotesque and monstrous figures, as well as devils and witches, will eventually disappear from view. At the end of the sixteenth century, the visual storm [iconoclasm] calmed down. In this sense, the iconoclasm as it briefly but powerfully struck the Netherlands (1566) is the end of a century in which the visual order in Europe had been in flux. Visually unviable couplings and intermediate products disappear or become marginal, such as the kitchen and market pieces (bp.4.147) or the emblems (bp.4.145). Partly old (biblical and mythological) genres are restored, partly new types emerge, such as the landscape, the still life, or the farm piece (bp.4.161 - bp.4.165, bp.4.179).1115 In this transformation process, which is accompanied by remarkable visual phenomena, it is about the power attributed to the image. 1116 There is a rivalry in the imagination going on, as Foucault and Alpers have suggested earlier. The latter in particular analyzed the emblem as a conquest of the flat plane, in which word and image are arranged on the same surface as equals. 1117 The conventional reclaiming, rearrangement and reordering of the flat plane goes hand in hand with the inclusion and exclusion of those parts that are ‘in their element’. Fueled by the mobility of artists and the massive technical reproduction of visual material, illustrated books, and pamphlets, this conventional transformation has farreaching repercussions in early modern Europe. Societal unrest, struggles between the sexes and witch trials, religious schisms and political changes, but also the emergence of a massive market for prints and paintings are unthinkable without a firm belief in the potential and working of the image. In the next section, I will 168 elaborate on the luring capability that has long been clinging to the image for a long time, but which one comes to appreciate differently during this period. At the heart of this different appreciation is a new epistemological status for the image, a status that it does not, however, acquire without difficulty. It was only in the course of the seventeenth century that new patterns became established. That we are able to discover these patterns is due in part to the ‘visual archive’ envisioned by modern researchers, based on the contemporary possibilities that modern technology has to offer for collecting, organizing, and making accessible early modern images. Over the last century, photographic reproduction, copies and CD-Roms have produced series ranging from Mnemosyne Atlas by Aby Warburg to recently The Great Wall by David Hockney (bp.postscript.1). Incidentally, the existence of a technical reproduction process is not in itself a topical phenomenon. From the fifteenth century onwards, there were many ‘reproductions’ of paintings in circulation (in the form of engravings, prints). These are mobile, not expensive and also circulated as a collection. In addition, as part of the tiered learning system, copies were made after engravings of paintings.1118 This visual archive makes clear that numerous combinations that appear to be possible have also manifested themselves visually. In the context of this European visual archive, there appears to be only a difference in emphasis between Italy and the Netherlands, and it would be more accurate to speak of a variation in accents being applied. (bp.4,154, bp.4,155). From the rearrangements that are taking place during this transitional period, new ‘findings’ are emerging, which are being practiced throughout Europe. Thus, in the course of the sixteenth century, the landscape, the still life and the portrait appear as separate ‘genres’. New arrangements are being tried out, arrangements that primarily try to arrange the world visually. Whether it are paintings showing painting galleries (bp.4.156), the comic-like stories of the upside-down world (with all domestic reversals neatly lined up, bp.4.157), the division of the year into seasons (bp.4.166), the struggle between Good and Evil (bp.4.158), the hermetic schemata and occult diagrams in which the cosmology is captured in one image (bp.4.159), the vivid classification of human life as a staircase of life in which one goes up first and then down again (bp.4.168), these are all attempts to get the world in order by capturing it in an image (or a series of images). The four elements, the five senses, the six stages of human life by Vredeman de Vries (bp.4.160), or the seven planets are subjects that can be found frequently at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth century. It is only during this period that the pictorial scenes seem to be coming back into line, albeit in a new way. As far as the imagination of the house is concerned, themes such as the life of Christ (bp.4.171), Concordia and Discordia or Foolish and Wise Virgins 169 (bp.4.170) present themselves. The Old Testament Good Wife (Proverbs 31:1031) is portrayed doing her good works in and around the house. Presented in an antique staging, as by Van Heemskerck, however, the house plays a subordinate role in these tableaus. The kitchen pieces by Pieter Aertsen and Joachim Beuckelaer, with a New Testament scene in one corner of the painting as ‘insert’, also form a temporary transition between the earlier depictions of the Holy Family and the later, more viable ‘still lifes’ (bp.4.147). The Flemish deconstruction of the ‘religious house’ is accompanied by the removal of ‘inappropriate’ figures from the house (Mary, the Archangel Gabriel, Joseph, the Child). Thus, in the Southern Netherlands, ‘the Christian home’ emerges in a variant in which scenes from the life of Christ are inserted (e.g., as a youth in the house of Mary and Martha) but which are for the most part devoted to the domestic objects and activities in and around the house: household goods, flowers or food on a table, with sometimes another panorama visible through the window.1119 This type of staging turns out to be an intermediate product given its limited lifespan (bp.4.169).1120 In addition, from the end of the sixteenth century until well into the seventeenth century, there are series of prints in which the interior is installed as the foundation for the ordering of life. Work by Stradanus (the Fleming who worked for Vasari in Italy), but also by the Frenchman Abraham Bosse and, for example, by the Dutch engravers and etchers Visscher and Luyken (bp.4.180 - bp.4.184). Only later, during the seventeenth century, will the evolution of this form with its accompanying conventions culminate in a finding that proves to be viable: the painted ‘kamergezicht’ [chamber scape]. As far as the chamber scape is concerned, the substance blown up by the visual whirlwind will not settle until later. This seems to be related to the multitude of bodies, objects, things and beings that must be placed together in a new way of harmony in this new finding. Sometimes old parts are included, sometimes new ones are added. In the course of the seventeenth century all possible ingredients of the house were brought together. In any case, a new ‘element’ seems to emerge from this. For a long time to come, prints and engravings will carefully dissect and classify everything in drawing and painting: household goods, food, furniture, animals, human bodies, architectural elements, et cetera. Finally, from these building blocks the domestic landscape arises. It was not until the third quarter of the seventeenth century that it was populated with appropriate bodies and the classic ‘kamergezicht’ became a fact. The lines that ultimately lead to De Hooch’s work are, however, disparate and unforeseen. They also lead to other types of combinations that coexisted in the Northern Netherlands during the seventeenth century. I will therefore end by sketching some of the traces that have helped to determine the pictorial imagination of the house. A lot has been said about the architectural drawing of the house in Chapter 2 devoted to the work by Simon Stevin on the liberated house. Here I would just 170 like to point out its visual structure. Throughout the in-between period, the transparent line patterns are being experimented with in Europe. Grids of squares and rejuvenating systems occur in many variations. 1121 The flat plane is divided and partitioned, built up and assembled. Inside and outside is a matter of visual gradation (bp.4.94-bp.4.100). Cassette ceilings and columns, windows and floors, roofs and vaults, staircases and pergolas, doors and gates, galleries and building blocks, triumphal arches and bridges, fence and wall compete with clouds and mountains, meadows and forests, lakes and streets, sunlight and shade, with sand and grass. Buildings are in abundance on the flat plane: stable and palace, church and town hall, tower and city gate. Towns and villages appear on the horizon. There are only a few traces of the house. Vredeman de Vries’s work on the Perspective, which I mentioned earlier in Chapter 2, cannot be conceived solely as a way of dividing the picture plane into fields. His work (and also his Theatrum Vitae Humanae) manages to literally portray the genealogy of the visual conquest of the house on the violence of Nature (bp.4.160). The drawings in his Perspective show how, with the help of the loose, scattered building blocks, things are arranged in such a way that they relate to each other. And not just any relationship, but one that culminates in the house as a structure. Stones and blocks are combined step by step to form an architectural whole, filled in and detailed. The drawings show how a house is built from scratch (bp.4.172). Line by line, chamber by chamber, with here a door and there a window, a stairway or spiral staircase (bp.4.173).1122 Staircases and floors, galleries and parapets, roofs, façades and chambers appear (bp.4.174). Eventually, all these components combine to form buildings and streets in a town. Vredeman de Vries also places objects in the chambers: here a sofa, there a table, a chest, a cupboard or shelves placed one above the other. In this regard, by the way, he is no different from other authors who write about perspective in these days (bp.4.105.15-17). All kinds of chairs, stools, benches, tables and chimneys are catalogued (bp.4.10501-14). They are examined from all sides, taken apart and put back together again on paper. One watches what happens when a chair falls, is thrown on the ground, put on its side or just stands upside down. Vredeman de Vries treats human bodies in the same way: he puts them on the floor, behind the door, under a gallery, in the window. Or he lets them sit on a bench, lie on a table or hang over the balustrade (bp.4.174). In his Theatrum Vitae Humanae (1577) he places the human figure in all its agility and multiformity amidst the buildings rising up out of the wild landscape (bp.4.160). Each of these three lines (architectural structure, domestic objects, and human bodies) were explored separately, but especially in combination, in Holland during the first half of the seventeenth century. The ‘landscape’ (bp.4.161), the ‘merry company outdoors’ 171 (bp.4.175) and street scenes are types that meet their own combinations, but which I will leave out of consideration here. Not all combinations turn out to be equally fertile. An example of a combination that did not directly lead to the chamber scape are the early interiors with human figures such as by Bartholomeus van Bassen, Frans Francken, Dirck Hals and Dirck van Delen (bp.4.177.1-3). In this genre, two existing lines are ‘pushed together’ almost unchanged into a new combination. The ready-made box-like chambers à la Vredeman de Vries can be connected to a conventional human ‘group’, such as the merry company’ or a ‘musical company’ (bp.4.176). The most important thing is that the group does something together and thus intertwines and becomes a visual entity. Pose, limbs and objects are stereotypically attuned to each other, while the location does not really matter: one celebrates, enjoys a party, but one can also play music, sit together around a table or have a conversation. Such a ‘group’, in which figures are clustered in a codified way, can be transposed in its entirety (with or without variations) to different contexts. Antonie Palamedesz, Pieter Codde, Willem Duyster and Willem Buytewech incorporate these conventional types as a whole, for example in outdoor areas or in a nearly architecture-free indoor location.1123 Clusters and groups of this kind are also placed in church interiors – a location that is also used to place a group of family members (bp.4.178). Instead of a development that leads directly to the chamber scape of 1650, it turns out that the genealogy is ramified and cumbersome. Everything in the house is observed and analyzed, visually presented and recorded during the first decades of the seventeenth century: household goods, plants, animals, people and architectural elements. In his Sinnepoppen (1614) Roemer Visscher exemplarily categorizes different types of bodies. He observes all kinds of household utensils (such as pan, jug, carafe, dish, barrel, skimmer, scales, distaff, comb, brush, foot stove, bellows, candle, lantern, box, window, chair, books, key and fruit, bp.4.106). The still lifes by Van Hoogstraten and others, in which all kinds of valuable papers and treasures are clasped to the canvas, are a variant of this (bp.4.163.5-7). Drawings, prints, engravings like these are the end of the process that began in the middle of the fifteenth century, in which the visible things were observed and entrusted to the flat plane. Remarkable difference, however, is that in the first half of the seventeenth century the attention for thing or object is not a one-time event but manifests itself countless times. Mousetrap and birdcage multiply. All kinds of trivial objects are collected. It might as well be a frying pan on the fire, a basket with cheese, a bowl with grapes or sometimes sketches full of lemons or seeds. They are placed on a newly ironed linen tablecloth according to an appropriate arrangement in the form of the well-known still lifes (bp.4.163 bp.4.165). The same order of species is implemented for animals and human beings. Once divided into small pieces and batches and analyzed according to gesture or 172 pose, limbs and figures can be reassembled into a whole. The goal is to connect all the details and achieve appropriate combinations suitable for the house. For depicting two fighting bodies (bp.4.125.6-17) is something else than depicting figures (man and woman) hugging each other (bp.4.124.1-10). In the house, therefore, there are special entanglements between bodies. There are countless examples in which bodies are combined with household goods, based on the question of how something is depicted. How do you sit in an armchair, on a chair with a straight back or on a swing? This is different from how you are lying on a bench at a table in an oriental way. Furthermore: how do you put your foot on a stool? (bp.4.126). How do you hold a book or letter when you read? (bp.4.115, bp.3.15.2). How do you feed porridge to a child or breastfeed it? (bp.4.132, bp.3.29.2). But also: how do you sleep at the table or on a chair? (bp.4.127.7-9). How do you put on a stocking? How do you greet by lifting your hat? (bp.3.30.1) How to sweep the floor with a broom or how to use a ‘ragebol’ [rage boll]? (bp.3.3.1) How do you sprinkle salt on a snail? (bp.3.41.4) How do you hold a hammer, a tulip or a karn stick? (bp.3.41.6, bp.3.42) How do you stir in the pan? How do you hold a glass? How do you drink out of a glass? How do you smoke a pipe? How do you keep your fingers when you pray? How do you count money, how do you weigh it? How do you write a letter and how do you read a letter? How do you peel fruit? How do you carry a child? How do you hold a flower? How do you hold a bunch of grapes? How do you carry a bowl or a lantern? (bp. 3.3.3, bp.4.113, bp.4.114, bp.3.6.2, bp.3.8.1, bp.3.9.2, bp.3.12.1, bp.3.13.3, bp.3.15.1, bp.3.18.3). In seventeenth-century picture production countless domestic activities are depicted, such as lace making, sewing, spinning or handling a distaff (bp.4.129 bp.4.131). The same applies to market or kitchen activities: peeling apples, chopping onions, plucking ducks, frying in a pan, stirring in a kettle, scrubbing dishes, washing and storing linen in a cupboard or crate (bp.3.3 - bp.3.4 and bp.3.6): all these activities are meticulously observed visually. Also in other areas, less related to the house, there is an abundance of activities: playing chess or cards, playing all kinds of musical instruments (bp.4.114, bp.3.7.3). In particular, scenes around the table and the bed that had previously been so clearly religiously framed were revised during this period. The sharing of the meal at the table (bp.4.133), with or without a prayer, occupies the imagination as much as the question of what can be done in bed (bp.4.127, 1-5, bp.4.132.5, 7). The bed shows a variety of possible uses: besides sleeping, it is also the place where one can lie ‘sick in bed’, where sexual intercourse and childbirth take place or death occurs (bp.3.27.4-5). It also serves as a place for ‘night feeding’ of the newborn, as a seat when getting dressed in the morning or as a location for marital strife and reconciliation (bp.3.22). Thus, we see that since the disappearance of the ‘Holy’ house in the sixteenth century, a lot of work has been done. Many early modern artists have 173 dissected the house in all its parts, experimented with those parts and finally established a finding in which man, woman, children (and maid) are ‘in their element’.1124 Naked, allegorical figures and angels in the sky are out of place in the chamber scape. The path from the house as a sacred place to the classical chamber scape around 1650 proves to be long, multifaceted, and certainly not straightforward. In Italy and Germany, the Holy Family lives on in the old settings and framing until the seventeenth century. In the Netherlands the holy family has many short-lived intermediate forms after which it slowly disappears from sight (via kitchen pieces, still lifes and landscapes). However, there are the disparate collections of ‘details’ and ‘combinations’ that occur during the transition period, with a different mise-enscène and a different mise-en-cadre.1125 In Italy and Spain many religious paintings are still being made for the church. In addition to scenes from the New Testament, also scenes from the Old Testament are depicted in the form of dark scenes that do not take place in a chamber. As is the case in Holland, where Arent de Gelder (1645-1727), a pupil of Rembrandt, has a preference for Old Testament stories. He paints various scenes (Juda and Hamar, Lot and his daughters, Esther) in several versions.1126 Although everyday utensils and ordinary everyday activities are part of the painted tableaux, the scenes always loom up out of nowhere. The scenes only take place in the flat plane evoked by the play of light and shadow. Apart from their fixed place in the Bible from which these scenes and figures are borrowed, the painted scenes nor the figures are not located in a clear place ‘in the house’. This is not only the case with De Gelder and Rembrandt, but also holds true for Caravaggio. In the end, however, all these minor experiments and minimal shifts result in a visual arrangement that is not only new, but also proves to be viable and sustainable. In the chamber scape, the trivial but existential things of life condense into a form that allows for constant changes and new combinations. ‘It is here in the comfortable, enclosed, private setting of one’s own home, that experience is received and literally taken in’.1127 Which does not necessarily mean, as is the case in modern literature, that the house has become a completely profane, private and bourgeois place. Too much ‘psychological depth’ is measured by the degree of ‘spaciousness’ an image is said to offer.1128 In Pieter de Hooch’s chamber scapes we find the holy family in the form of paintings mainly on the wall: so, this holy family is still part of the cultural horizon in the Dutch seventeenth century. Although incomplete and speculative, especially when it comes to the relationship with art history as a history of unique works of art, this concise genealogy provides us with an important service. This genealogy demonstrates that the social question of the ‘why’ of the chamber scape is of little use. The question as to why this type of painting came to light ‘then’ or ‘there’ also makes little sense in this simple way. Instead, another question should be asked, namely what the formal 174 structure of this genre is. Like Todorov and others, I conceive genre as a limited system of rules that takes into account the common features that unite a collection, in this case of tableaux. What tableaux of the same genre have in common is their organization of ‘probability’, which can be determined according to two axes. These two axes also apply to the chamber scape ‘as a genre’. One axis relates to what is internally ‘appropriate’ in relation to the other chamber scapes. Chamber scapes, for example, possess certain characteristics that do not appear in mythological pictures or portraits. In early modern terms, therefore, a ‘genre’ refers to the same kind of things that are ‘in their element’. The second axis relates to the extent to which the conventions correspond to the socio-cultural norms and values pattern beyond. In early modern terms, that means faithfully following the rules of Nature. As such, this qualification is fundamentally independent of the type of painting. As Van Hoogstraten emphasizes, a painter can make a complete masterpiece in any genre. The genre of chamber scape thus consists of a series of tableaux that unfolded until the end of the seventeenth century. De Hooch’s work is just one example of that. Numerous other painters also contributed to the formation of this genre (bp.4.195).1129 The point is, however, that they all use the same (virtual) sample of possibilities. They vary on it, select a peculiarity or carry it to its limits. Even the undermining of the rules, as done by Jan Steen, maintains the chamber scape as a genre. I would like to close this section with a short discussion of some of the ‘Huishouden van Jan Steen’ [Disorderly, dissolute, unruly household of Jan Steen] to explain the working of the ‘genre’.1130 The paintings by Jan Steen and Pieter de Hooch are often compared and interpreted in terms of contrast (bp.4.189 - bp.4.192). Indeed, the differences are quite striking. Unlike De Hooch, Jan Steen’s chamber scapes show messy and unregulated households. ‘The same white walls that form such a virginal décor for the domestic idylls of Pieter de Hooch (1629-1684) and Johannes Vermeer (16321675) form the backdrop for wild situations in Steen’, Westermann said a few years ago.1131 The chambers are overcrowded with busy moving and colorful figures and feature an excess of household goods whose fabric expression is accentuated. Steen presents a whole series of human figures: the sprightly suitor and maidservant, the old woman and elderly man, the sleeping mother and many naughty children. But also animals like parrot, monkey, cat, dog, pig and duck are painted. The characters look at the viewer as they sit half-slumped at the table or make broad gestures in the already crowded chamber. Steen depicts drinking and eating utensils, pots and pans, musical instruments, clocks, birdcage and wall spells, but also food, such as all kinds of bread, biscuits, fruit, mussels and eggs. 175 Steen’s figures are often arranged around a centrally placed table. A crib, a closet or a fireplace sometimes complete the stage. In the meantime, many studies have appeared in which Jan Steen’s work has been object of research. Whereas in the past one saw his interiors as a reflection of a chaotic household, nowadays one sees them mainly in the light of the comic and moralistic intention that lies within them. 1132 Links have been made with his biography, with the theatrical tradition of the Commedia dell’Arte, with Steens’ interest in piquant subjects and obscene gestures, their moral intentions, but also with seventeenth-century humor, with farcical types (such as peasants, drinking people), with proverbs and with satirical literature. 1133 Only a few authors, like Mariët Westermann and Rudi Fuchs, discuss the relationship between all these comic matters that Steen presents in his work and his painting. Fuchs emphasizes that the painted images are only comical because Steen completely mastered the rules of the art of painting. This allowed him to introduce all kinds of moralistic symbols rather inconspicuously. ‘All these manipulations bear witness to an exceptional talent for painting, in that supple and cunning manipulation that is greater than anyone else in the seventeenth century (...) It is inevitable that Steen has seen, looked closely at and studied everything he paints. Not the composition as such (it is a fact of a brilliant, sophisticated miseen-scène), but all details and parts, from the bright jar in the windowsill to the beautifully shining clothes of the two main characters’. According to Fuchs on the occasion of Steen’s ‘In weelde siet toe’ [Beware of Luxury] (bp.4.190.1).1134 In reference to the same painting, Westermann points out that apart from social jokes and theatrical aspects, Steen evokes the comic precisely by ‘the inversion of serious norms from painting’. Breaking social norms includes, for example, the theme of ‘unequal love’, but also laughing at socially lower classes.1135 According to Westermann, the ‘visual cacophony’ is the effect of contrasting colors, loose brushwork, scattering of glances, inverting codes of decorum and leaving objects lying around. I think they’re both right, but they do interpret Steen’s painterly rules in an opposite way. So, the question is what rules does Steen obey, what rules does he transgress and what does that have to do with the comical. At first sight Steen respects the rules of the early modern art of painting as I described them in the first five sections. He arranges the flat plane with a handful of perspective lines, he forms a chamber out of walls, floor and ceiling, door and window. Usually, Steen shows only one chamber, consisting of two or three walls, often without a ceiling, but with a window or a door. He uses light and shadow in his paintings, although his light comes often from the front (as if on a stage) rather than from a painted window. In accordance with the rules of art of painting, he uses colors in many shades and contrasts that keep the tableau in balance. The contrasting of pigments and the balancing of their saturation and intensity, the shading of colors, all belong to the early modern system within which variation is possible. In his painting ‘De wijn is een spotter’ [The wine is a 176 mocker] (1668-70), for example, Steen shows the high-contrast ‘cangiantismo’ effect of pink/blue in the gown of the woman lying on the ground, an effect that we also know from paintings by De Hooch (bp.4.187.3).1136 Furthermore, Steen distinguishes ‘bodies’ in types and sizes (human figures, animals, domestic objects) and according to their activities (one plays music, eats, drinks and smokes). He nuances their special fabric expression with different brush strokes and groups them together to form a balanced whole. According to the early modern rules of the art of painting, loose and smooth brushstrokes were not only meant for ‘peasants and rabble’. As I have shown, De Hooch also uses it, and Van Hoogstraten points to it as a means to add nuance to the fabric expression and to indicate a difference between near and far. 1137 The tables that Steen paints, with their Turkish carpets, white tablecloths, dishes full of fruit and filled glasses, all in combination with dogs and bird cages, differ very little from the ingredients De Hooch paints in his scenes. Even the number of human figures in his messy households circles around ten, which Alberti and others still find appropriate. The only difference with De Hooch is perhaps that in terms of composition Steen belongs more to the second line I just mentioned. Steen has proportionally and visually fully integrated the box-like chamber and the merry company, which at the beginning of the century were still somewhat disjointed, into its interiors. In this respect, Jan Steen’ paintings are an extension of the aforementioned way of building a ‘chamber in the house’, namely by combining a box-shaped chamber with a composed group of human figures that is in principle separate from it. Although with Steen the grouped characters are in the foreground, they occupy a larger part of the flat plane, which benefits the integration of both parts. His paintings are therefore also similar to – on the face of it – De Hooch’s totally different results. Fuchs is therefore right that Steen is a master of the rules of the early modern art of painting and acts accordingly. It is precisely the conventional articulation of the tableau that allows Steen to put pressure on the painterly registers and to exceed certain limits. By comparing De Hooch’s work with that of Steen – ‘find the differences!’ – it becomes clear which pictorial conventions are put to the test by the latter. He appears to question the decorum in three ways. First of all, we see living creatures that have been put together entirely according to the rules of the art of painting, but which, compared to De Hooch’s chamber scape turn out to be not ‘in their element’. Westermann emphasizes that Steen violates the rule of depicting bodies in an appropriate manner. But she interprets this transgression first and foremost in a social sense.1138 However, this transgression concerns the conventions. Why shouldn’t a mother be allowed to sleep? Of course she is, but not in the chamber in the midst of her family or close to guests like Steen does (bp.4.189.2, bp.4.190.1 and 2). Are suitors and spinsters not allowed to be shown together in the home? (bp.4.189.2, bp.4.190.1). Certainly, but De Hooch does not combine 177 them with babies, children, fathers and mothers. There is nothing wrong with the pig and the duck either, except that they are misplaced in the house (bp.4.190.1). Fuchs confirms this difference in level when he remarks: ‘For example, the duck on the viewer of the man dressed in black in Jan Steen’s painting Beware of Luxury, makes that man a pious Quacker because a duck is also called a ‘kwaker’ [quack]. But in the first place, that clue is a beautiful perky duck whose color perfectly harmonizes with the pale black of the man’s coat and which is why it stands out so curiously unobtrusive’. The monkey that Steen paints several times, by the way, was once also painted by De Hooch, and therefore perhaps more ‘at home’ in the chamber scape than we can suspect. 1139 A second rule that Steen puts to the test is the proper composition of the bodies in a chamber scape. Steen regularly groups bodies inappropriately. On the one hand he links figures and objects in an unconventional way: children get a pipe in the mouth (bp.4.189.1, bp.4.190.1), the foot rests on a book instead of a foot stove.1140 Minimal differences with major consequences. Like a child drinking wine from the wine jug (bp.4.192.1), a dog eating (almost) the pie (bp.4.190.1 and 2), a cat lurking on a ham.1141 On the other hand, Steen gives the bodies much more movement than in paintings by De Hooch. He often shows an object in the same painting from several sides. In this way he paints not one egg, but a whole series.1142 Placed side by side, they form a sequence that, if it were a film, would show how an egg rolls, breaks and remains in pieces (bp.4.193). 1143 The lid of a jug is opened, a bowl is broken on its side, a lemon is half peeled, a jet of wine comes out of the jug into a glass, a hat is thrown on the ground and so on (see e.g. bp.4.189.1, bp.4.190.1 and 2). Figures are provided by Steen with waving arms, raised legs and pointing hands, open mouths and grinning ‘tronies’. Turning away, hunching over, gesticulating and looking out of the picture, they provoke the minimal gestures that make De Hooch’s chamber scape so motionless.1144 Thirdly, Steen breaks through the order that brings the transparent pattern of lines into the plane. De Hooch (and this also applies to Maes and Metsu) conform to this line pattern to place the objects and figures on the canvas. Steen, on the other hand, shows its objects and figures everywhere on the flat plane. The applied ‘perspectivistic’ division serves him only as a shared subface. ‘Floors’, ‘walls’ and even the ‘ceiling’ are littered with stuff: pots and pans, bottles and bowls, spoons and jugs are on the shelf floor. Much more than in De Hooch’s paintings, playing cards, pipe stems, pretzels and oysters roam the ground. The dog walks on a table and a basket with begging sticks hangs from the ceiling (bp.4.189.2, bp.4.190.1-2). Apparently, Steen (compared to other chamber scapes) does not put things in their right place conform Nature. Nowadays this is experienced as ‘clutter’ and interpreted as disorderly in a social sense. 1145 Thus, in his ‘messy households’, Steen tests the genre that others have put together: the chamber scape. He works comically, but not so much by depicting 178 an anti-social household or showing a humorous scene. He does this primarily by manipulating certain formal rules of the early modern art of painting. And he can only transgress the conventions of the chamber scape because he fully masters the rules of the art of painting. Todorov once formulated this ambiguity as follows: ‘The fact that a work “disobeys” its genre does not make the latter nonexistent; it is tempting to say that quite the contrary is true. And for a twofold reason. First, because transgression, in order to exist as such, requires a law that will, of course, be transgressed. One could go further: the norm becomes visible – lives – only by its transgression. (...) But there is more. Not only does the work, for all its being an exception, necessarily presuppose a rule; but this work also, as soon as it is recognized in its exceptional status, becomes in its turn, thanks to successful sales and critical attention, a rule’.1146 The ‘farce’ that Van Houbraken (1718) attributed to Jan Steen must be understood in the first place as perspicacity. 1147 In this context it is no coincidence that Van Hoogstraten presents the muse of the farce (Thalia) as the mistress of order. Om een ordinatie geestich en aengenaem te schikken, moet ons nu de meestresse van komedyen en kluchtspeelen, Thalia, de hulpende hand biên. En zy die met boertige sokken ten toneele treet, en haer voorhooft en gehoornde grijns met klimop overschaduwt, zal onze zinnen in ‘t schikken der dingen wakker houden. Want in ‘t ordineeren moetmen zich vooral van zwaermoedicheit wachten. (...) leer ons een vrolijk vergaderen, en ‘t by een schikken op een bevallijke wijs. ô Meestresse van de nacht, die de blinkende Mane, tusschen haer speelnoots de Starren, zoo ordentlijk ten reije voert! wijs ons aen, watmen voornamentlijk, en watmen maer halvelings vertoonen moet. (...) Men eygende u van outs de bevatsaemheyt oft begrijpen toe: en zeker dit is in de konst van ‘t wel ordineeren ten hoogsten van noode. Want zonder ‘t begrip der zaken zoumen te vergeefs de Schikkunst beginnen.1148 [To arrange an ordinance ingeniously and delightfully, the mistress of comedies and farce plays, Thalia, must give us the helping hand. And those who come on stage with funny socks, and overshadow the forehead and horned grin with ivy, will keep our senses awake in the arrangement of things. For in bringing order one must beware of melancholy. (...) Teach us to assemble cheerfully, and to do the arranging in a pleasing manner. ô Mistress of the night, who the shining Moon together with her friends the Stars, so orderly lines up! Point out to us, what is to be displayed in principle, and what is to be displayed only in part. (...) You have traditionally been associated with comprehension or understanding: and this is certainly highly necessary in the art of putting things right. For without the conception of things, one would begin in vain the art of Arranging]. However, a good arrangement is something else than strictly following the rules. Only the painter who has practiced the rules of art is able to stretch or undermine them with ingenuity.1149 Only the trained painter can agreeably arrange the parts 179 of the work with joy and swing into a powerfully painted tableau, such is Van Hoogstraten’s message De Hooch’s paintings often differ only in detail, a characteristic that has already been noticed by many. 1150 With different attributes, different figures, different activities and a different decoration, each painting produces a ‘new’ chamber scape.1151 The series of chamber capes seems infinitely expandable. Everything from domestic life can in principle be chosen as a subject. The step to interpreting De Hooch’s chamber scapes as a registration of the social reality of the time is therefore small. His faithful rendering, his capacity for observation and the realistic-objective impression his paintings give are generally accepted. If, however, one observes ‘series formation’ in his work, repetition or rearrangement of similar elements, art historians generally equate this with manipulation (of reality), with an imaginative addition (to reality), or as proof of the creative and talented intervention of the artist (in reality). 1152 De Hooch’s work, on the other hand, shows that pictorial conventionality evokes and claims ‘a historical reality’. If a depiction is convincing, it can be called ‘objective’, ‘representative’, ‘true’ and ‘realistic’.1153 But the only connection between the visual material and this impression of reality is in fact the concrete, material and the specific arrangement of paint substances and planes, fields, lines and colors, all elements from which the paintings are constructed from beginning to end. This material order of things gives a painting its significance.1154 However, the comparison with Steen makes two things clear. First of all, that De Hooch displays a selection. The ‘visible world’, presented in such an orderly way by de Hooch, by no means shows everything that is possible. It is only a limited choice from Nature at that time. Secondly, the collection of things that are ‘in their element’ in the chamber scape is not random, but conventional. Each new painting, in which one detail is replaced by another within the same paradigm, results in a variant of the fictitious world De Hooch evokes. ‘Clicking’ and ‘dragging’ details thus leads, when we reformulate it in terms of contemporary new media, to new, but always recognizable pictures.1155 The question of what is appropriate in the chamber scape as a pictorial finding is not so much a matter for De Hooch as for Steen. He shows which conventions must be obeyed in order for the fiction to give an impression of probability.1156 Although De Hooch shows the diversity of the early modern chamber scape, Steen searches for its limits by making remarkable connections. He and not De Hooch explicates the principles of the appropriate imagination, precisely by stretching them. Only in the comparison of the two types of paintings does it become clear that the chamber scape is indeed a ‘genre’ (in terms of Todorov), a type of tableau based on its own codes and conventions, generating its own fictional world and not a representation of socialhistorical reality, nor a fantasy of the painter. Contrary to what many iconological studies assume, the comical is not a moralistic category that is implanted in the 180 painting and that can and must be deciphered now, centuries later. 1157 Nor can the comical be understood as a moral category appropriate for the lowest, inferior mode – because one has wrongfully linked a moral view to the rhetorical classification. On the contrary, it is a formalistic game with the rules of the art of painting that established the early modern chamber scape as a genre.1158 Visually, Steen’s humor is based on the expectation of what a ‘kamergezicht’ is and the extent to which his tableaux differs from this expectation: gestures or figures that are too large for the chamber, figures and objects that are wrongly linked or in the wrong places.1159 That too much (or too little) compared to expectation is, as Freud once remarked, the source of comical lust.1160 Anyone who says that Steen and De Hooch’s paintings are ‘realistic’ because they offer a faithful representation of reality, posits a tautology. Even the most ordinary perception of a reality goes back to cultural conventions. Through a correct selection of conventions, a performance can be recognized as ‘real’. But if they don’t match, one sees mostly artificiality and poor quality. The precariousness of time-bound spontaneous recognition can be seen, for example, in the rejection of a late work by De Hooch that was purchased by The National Gallery in London in 1916.1161 It is also evident in the enthusiastic reception of false ‘De Hooch’s’ painted by Van Meegeren in the late 1930s, their ‘unmasking’ which did not take place until after World War II, and then Sutton’s surprise in 1998 when he immediately recognized them as modern paintings. ‘Looking at these images today, we can scarcely understand how the connoisseurs were fooled; the heavy-lidded figures look more like Marlene Dietrich and the film stars of the 1930s than seventeenth-century figures. However, van Meegeren’s forgeries serve to remind us how our vision is distorted by the values and preconceptions of our own era’.1162 Today’s viewers are accustomed to using photography, film and television images to select precisely those conventions that played a central role in seventeenth-century chamber scapes. But at the same time this recognition erases the construction of this early modern images: we simply ignore that the painting is a conventional artefact. Forgotten are the unnaturally depicted tablecloths in De Hooch's paintings, the curiously hanging curtains and the strange procession of dogs he paints. Forgotten are the draperies that take possession of the image with all their color and fabric expression, as well as the abundance of light and shadow effects on walls and floors. The chamber scape as a genre turns out to be sustainable and has a respectable ‘Nachleben’. Once it has become classical, it can leave the seventeenth century and Holland as a pattern of conventions. The genre is migrating. It adapts to the different contexts in European culture and shows new variations. Cornelis Troost (1696-1750) in the Netherlands, Jean-Baptiste Chardin (1699-1779) in France and William Hogarth (1697-1764) in England and many others benefit from this 181 finding (bp.4.195, bp.4.196.1-2). This is how the classic chamber scape survives and finally reaches the nineteenth century, after which it starts a new life in the various countries. In Germany in the romantic Biedermeier, in the Netherlands by painters of which Jozef Israels is the most famous. 1163 Around the turn of the century, for example, it appeared in the ‘nostalgic Swedish interiors’ of Carl Larsson (bp.4.196.3-9).1164 But it would be worthwhile to also follow the chamber scape on its journey through modern art. The question is whether the genre has disappeared from modern art, as Reed 1996 states in Not at Home, or whether it has undergone various transformations in which the conventional potential of the early modern era is realized.1165 Paintings by Hamilton, Hockney and Hopper for example, but also by Magritte, Matisse, Klee and Bonnard are part of a steady stream of ‘interiors’ in Western history (bp.4.197.1-5).1166 The strength of this finding may be due to the fact that its configuration was so intensive, long lasting and comprehensive and at the same time allows for as much variation and modification as possible. It is remarkable, for example, that, unlike in early modern times, the nude appears to be very much in ‘its element’ in the modern chamber scape (bp.4.197.2 and 5). In any case, it continues to exist under completely different conditions. In this sense, one could very well examine the illustrations of children's books, interior photography, the classic Hollywood film (Douglas Sirk’s melodrama, for example), or the Japanese films of Ozu or Mizoguchi as descendants, transformations, or mutations of the classicconventional chamber scape (bp.4.196.6).1167 182 4.2.3. The Moving Painting and the Craving Eye Much has been written about the development of the visual arts in the early modern period. The period itself gives every reason to do so. Thus between 1400 and 1700 new types of images appear, different compositions, the materials used change, their distribution is increasing and so is the way in which images are used. Moreover, there are many authors in Europe who write about what the image is capable of. Visual practices are rejected or appropriated and the status of the painter changes. It comes as no surprise that this confusing excess is reflected in art historical research. There are studies on the status of the image in relation to humanist art theory, on the moral rejection of unchaste images, on the controversy between ‘disegno’ and ‘colore’, on the art of memory, on the learned symbolism in paintings, on the Dutch art trade, on the elevation of painting from craft to liberal art, on realism and pseudo-realism, on deceit and entertainment, on the religious criticism of idolatry, on the classicist conception of beauty, on the art of printing, on the scientific revolution, and so on and so forth. Each time, different themes and layers are explored, each time studying different sources. One often tries to explain the changes by linking them to the socio-economic development in which the early modern citizen emancipates himself, capitalism is emerging and the demand for technology increases. The change in painting is rewritten in terms of a psychosocial progression of the painter. Driven by ‘increasing needs for’ or ‘greater interest in theories’, by ‘dissatisfaction with’ and ‘resistance to’ the low position as a craftsman, the early modern painter is no longer satisfied with his traditional place in society. The painter becomes a learned and erudite man, pursuing a more sophisticated science.1168 For example, Miedema writes: ‘The painterly elite came to realize that there were sciences that a painter really ought to possess and that the average master painter did not have in his educational package’.1169 Zwijnenberg puts it this way: ‘In the light of these developments, it is understandable that painters too began to feel dissatisfied with the low artisanal status of their art’.1170 These studies often lead to the clarification of a certain problem or development, as shown in the previous sections. There are, however, also studies that, by short-circuiting all kinds of approaches, create unambiguous and therefore sometimes misleading interpretations. And there are almost no studies that provide an analytical overview of how all these heterogeneous visual phenomena relate to each other and try to determine their relative weight. Yet these kinds of questions are pushing themselves upon us. What do the concrete research results actually have to do with the major dividing lines that one assumes in early modern Europe, such as those between North and South, Catholicism and Protestantism, citizens and court, practice and theory, man and woman, academy and guild, 183 emotion and reason, skilled breadwinning and elitist leisure pursuits, ideal reality and everyday realism, fresco and oil painting, image and idea? It will be clear that in this section I do not pretend to present a complete analysis of the early modern conception of the image. That’s good for a major research project. My aim is merely to place the art of painting amidst the many conflicting views of the early modern age with regard to the image. Analogous to the placement of the paintings by Pieter de Hooch in the broader context of visual material about the house, in this section I will locate the writings of Samuel van Hoogstraten in a broader context. It will also address the question of the relationship between the Dutch ‘art of painting’, ‘Italian art theory’ and ‘classicism’. As well as the question of how art history has dealt with this issue up till now. In his Inleyding tot de Hooge Schoole der Schilderkunst [Introduction to the High School of the Art of Painting] Samuel van Hoogstraten mentions two anecdotes that focus on the question of the early modern image and its status. For the modern reader they are incompatible and usually one of them is ignored in favor of the other. The first deals with the importance of the drawing as a scientific organizing tool and the second with the striking effect of beautiful or terrifying images on the imagination. For Van Hoogstraten and other early modern authors, both belong to the same conceptual system. Almost at the beginning of his book Van Hoogstraten discusses the usefulness of drawing as a ‘tweede wijze van Schrijven’ [second way of Writing].1171 He explains that with an incident. A statesman consults with Frederick Hendrik about entrenchments and army works. However, he is not able to express his opinion orally or in writing. Frederick Hendrik therefore asks him to make his opinion known by means of a drawing. The statesman must confess that he never learned to draw. That elicits an astonished exclamation from the Prince. ‘Hoe! enzoude een man van zoodanigen bewint, als gy zijd, niet kunnen Tekenen?’ [How could a man, like you, with such occupations, not Draw?]. The statesman is very ashamed and tries to correct his parents’ mistake promptly by having both his sons and his daughters being instructed in drawing. For, Van Hoogstraten concludes, there is hardly any activity (in war or peace, in the house or in the field) in which the art of drawing is not necessary in order to form a judgement. Following in Aristotle’s footsteps, he points out that the art of drawing generally increases discernment. 1172 In most sciences, the art of drawing also comes in handy. The art of warfare and the art of fortification, for example, benefit from drawings in which the knowledge is clearly arranged. The warlord who understands the art of warfare ‘ordent zijn Regimenten met gespreyde vleugelen, of door de engtens der Wegen ingedrongen, met de pen, eer hyze met den degen in de vuist te velde daegt’ [orders with his pen his Regiments with spread wings, or, by the 184 narrowness of the Roads, compactly, before he brings them into the field with the sword in the fist].1173 Practitioners of architecture and surveying, natural history, geographers, astronomers, physicians and historians must also be able to draw so that the reader can trust their claims as true testimonies.1174 Writers may have many words at their disposal to evoke an image (of an animal, a coastline, a starry sky, a body or a historical figure), but a well-made image follows more faithfully what the eye sees, according to Van Hoogstraten. 1175 So, the art of drawing touches many areas of knowledge: Wy hebben boven gezeyt, hoe de Teykenkonst niet alleen noodich is aen Beeltsnijders, Botseerders, Gout- en Zilverwerkers, maer ook aen Boumeesters, Timmerlieden, ja aen Veltheeren, Prinsen, of, om met een woord te zeggen, aen alle vernuft oeffenende menschen; vermits het gezicht en het oordeel door de Teykenkonst uitermaten verlicht wort.1176 [We have said above, how the Art of Drawing is necessary not only for Sculptors, Picture Makers, Gold and Silver Workers, but also for Master Builders, Carpenters, yea for Military, Princes, or, to say with one word, to all men who exercise their intellect; since the understanding and judgment is exceedingly enlightened by the Art of Drawing]. The world comes within reach with the art of drawing, as Biens calls it in his little treatise on the art of drawing. ‘Door dese Conste bewandelen ende sien wij de plaesierichste landouwen der werelt ende blijven niet te min binnen onse studoor’ [Through this Art we walk and see the most pleasant landscapes of the world and nevertheless remain within our study].1177 Johannes Blaeu confirms this when he remarks: ‘Geografie [is] het oog en het licht der geschiedenis (...) Kaarten stellen in staat om thuis met eigen ogen dingen te aanschouwen die zeer ver weg zijn’ [Geography [is] the eye and the light of history (...) Maps enable us to behold with our own eyes at home things that are very far away].1178 The art of drawing is important for anyone who wants to get to know the world, according to Huygens. ‘Indien wij eens een reis moesten maken, dan zou het veel schrijfwerk uitsparen, wanneer wij direct over de vaardigheid beschikten om de merkwaardige dingen af te beelden’ [If we were to make a journey, it would save a great deal of writing if we could immediately acquire the skill to depict the remarkable things].1179 Van Hoogstraten and other Dutch authors regard the drawing as a scientific and engineering product of the observing eye and the trained hand. Drawing is not only of importance to the painters, but also ‘tot oeffeninge van het ingenieurscap’ [to the practice of engineering] as Stevin confirms. In his instruction for the curriculum of the future engineer, drawn up for the foundation of the Duytsche Mathematique in Leiden in 1600, learning to draw returns in several stages of the curriculum.1180 Such statements are part of a general trend in early modern Europe. For example, the work of Italian engineers has long been 185 dominated by drawings. In the course of the sixteenth century, with their knowledge of the art of drawing, they moved northwards to France and the Netherlands.1181 And the anatomical prints by Vesalius (1542) or by Da Vinci also bear witness to this important status of the drawing as a knowledge instrument.1182 Through the research of Alpers, Melion, Rosenfeld, Van den Akker, Edgerton, Zwijnenberg, Elkins and others, it has now been established that knowing takes on a new form in early modern drawing. ‘By encompassing the visual world as representation, teyckenconst strips nature of hidden meanings, reconstituting her as verclaringhe (clarification, knowledge). This is why teyckenconst is useful to all stations, ages, and conditions of men’ [italics by Melion].1183 The second incident mentioned by Van Hoogstraten concerns a different effect of the image, namely the force it exerts on the eye and the mind. Van Hoogstraten comes to speak of it at the end of his Inleyding.1184 He recounts a story about a woman who, during her adultery, is so afraid of her husband that she always has him in mind. As a result, the child born from this adultery resembles her lawful husband much more than her other children. Through the eye, as Van Hoogstraten means, an image is recorded that subsequently shows itself on the offspring: ‘Moeders inbeeldingen schilderen de vrucht’ [Mother’s imaginations paint the fruit]. To underline the striking effect the image has on the inner life, he refers to the many signs that are ‘door vrouwe schrik of lust den kinderen medegedeelt’ [communicated to the children by the fear or lust of women].1185 The power of color even reaches so far, that the imaginations made by pregnant women leave blood-red marks, ‘moerbyen’ [Mulberry] and ‘freytteyckens’ [fruit signs] on the unborn fetus.1186 Knowing this natural ability, Van Hoogstraten writes, it can also be used to influence the color of the offspring: ‘Heliodoor maekt zijn Moorsche Koningin, door ‘t aenzien van een blank Schildery, van de schoone Chariklea zwanger’ [Heliodorus makes his Moorish queen, who is looking at a painting with a white character, pregnant with the beautiful Chariklea’].1187 Van Hoogstraten is not the only one to mention this ‘vrouwlijke inbeelding’ [female imagination]. Herman Roodenburg and recently Ghislain Kieft have described it as a well-known phenomenon that is seriously discussed in the early modern age from midwives to art theory. 1188 Stevin, Cats, Huygens and Alberti too recognize this special ability of the image and the great consequences this can have for offspring, according to the different variants they include in their writings.1189 Cats’ version has a more positive ending. A mother, ugly as night (as is her husband), is suspected of adultery at the birth of her beautiful child. Further research, however, shows that her child strongly resembles the sculpture of a beautiful child standing on the buffet in her bedroom (bp.3.8.1). So, the mother is restored to her honor. Cats’ advice to pregnant women is therefore to avoid frightening or desperate creatures and only place beautiful images in the bedroom.1190 Alberti and Stevin give a similar advice to the master builder. The 186 former points to appropriate paintings in the bedroom, the latter opposes the use of certain painted windows.1191 ‘VVat lelicke monsters belangt, gemengt van menschen en beesten leden met ansichten yselick greinsende, en bevallen my int cieraet niet, eensdeels om datse sorgelick sijn voor bevruchte Vrouvven; Ten anderen hoevvel des VVerckmeesters suyver hant daer in blijcken can, soo isser weynich const inden omtreck, van dingen die an geen seker natuerlicke maet en stant verbonden en zijn’ [As for ugly monsters, mixing the limbs of men and beasts, and provided with icy grinning faces, do not please me in adornment, on the one hand because they are worrisome to pregnant Women; On the other hand, although from that work the pure hand of the master may be evident, in things that are not bound to a certain natural measure and existence, there is no outline that conforms to the rules of art].1192 Thus, the power attributed to the image is considerable – it is not for nothing that Jacob Cats advises the bride to reclaim a portrait donated to a former suitor (bp.3.8.2). According to Van Hoogstraten, both the scientific drawing and the emotional impression through an image are based on Nature.1193 ‘Natuur en ‘t geval bootsen de konst nae, gelijk de konst de natuur’ [Nature and events follow art, as art follows nature].1194 On the one hand, the meticulous image springs from following Nature; on the other hand, it is part of the nature of the eye and of the imagination that they are easily aroused by an image. In this way Van Hoogstraten underscores the connection that early modernity makes between the properties of the eye, of the imagination and the capacity of painting. With the drawing as the natural connection between eye and imagination. Haer voornaemste en eerste grondtregels [van de kunst van het schilder] bestaen in de Teykenkonst, welke zelf zonder verwe schildert, en de voornaemste dingen der natuur uitbeelt. Een Teykening, schoon zonder verwen, alleen in omtrekken, lichten en schaduwen bestaende, zegt Philostratus, verdient nochtans den naem van een Schilderye, vermits wy daer in niet alleen de gelijkenissen van d’afgebeelde persoonen beschouwen, maer ook zelfs hare bewegingen, vrees en schaemte, stouticheuit en yver: en schoon zy alleen in eenvoudige linien somtijts bestaet, die de jeugt, hair noch baert, niet en kunnen uitdrukken, nochtans geven ze de gestalte van een zwarten of witten mensche genoeg te kennen.1195 [The principal and first fundamental rule [of the art of painting] begins with the Art of Drawing, which itself paints without color, and depicts the principal things of nature. A drawing, although without colors, consisting only of contours, lights and shadows, says Philostratus, nevertheless deserves the name of Painting, because we do not consider in it only the resemblances of the persons depicted, but also even her movements, fear and shame, bravery and zeal: and though it sometimes consists only of simple lines, which the 187 youth, as yet without hair or beard, cannot express, they nevertheless sufficiently indicate the shape of a black or white human being]. Nowadays that link between Nature, the art of painting, drawing and the painted tableau, meticulous observing and being moved no longer speaks for itself. We spontaneously make a distinction – or more strongly, a hierarchical opposition – between rationalist ‘observation’ and irrational ‘imagination’. Because of this modern split, the rational aspect of drawing and painting is given greater weight today –focusing on the symbolic (which undoubtedly exists) and its interpretation – than in early modern times. We have encountered a similar overvaluation before in the case of the central perspective, on Christian-humanist morality (Chapter 3 on Jacob Cats), and on architectural beauty (Chapter 2 on Simon Stevin). In early modern times, however, the physical and mental properties of human beings were both part of the natural order. In the early modern rationality, physical properties were also used as a reference to Nature. ‘En aldus moet een vernuftig Schilder, wanneer hy eenige Historie voorheeft, met een Poëtische uitvinding, de geest des persoons, dien hy wil verbeelden, in het wezen brengen, en hem iets geven, daer hy aen te kennen zy’ [And thus an ingenious Painter, when he imagines a History, must, by means of a Poetic invention, show in the appearance the mind of a person, whom he intends to depict, and give him something, by which he can be recognized].1196 That’s why a dog looks trustworthy and that’s why a lion shows its evil nature. ‘De natuer heeft aen yder Dier een zweeming na den aert van zijne neigingen gegegeven’ [Nature has given to every Animal a trace according to the nature of his inclination], Van Hoogstraten writes. In a similar way, this applies to the distinct traits of the human being. Van Hoogstraten names the visual features because the painter is painting formal distinctions and not in order to make a moral judgment (as we automatically think today).1197 Want wie zal, wanneer hy een mensch ziet, wiens aengezicht breet en lang is, als op een berd geplakt, en neus en wangen eeven hoog zijn, den zelven geen Oskop noemen? of zoo zijn oogen vaekerich staen, hem geen Eezelskop heeten? ten waer datmen’er eenige norsheit in speurde; want dan zouw men hem eer voor een buffelskop keuren. In een kalfsachtige trony zie ik een botterik: in een Aepachtige een poetsemaker, en in een schaepachtige, een Schaepshooft.1198 [For whom, when he sees a man, whose face is broad and long, as if pasted on a board, with nose and cheeks of equal height, and then will not call him an Ox-head? or when his eyes are sleepy, not call him a Donkey’s Head? unless one sensed some surliness in it; For then one would sooner judge that he is a buffalo head. In a calf-like face I see someone who is silly; in an ape-like a comedian, and in a sheep-like, a sheep’s head]. 188 In this rationality, the natural order is the beginning and the end of thinking about the art of painting.1199 Everything in painting is tied to Nature through ‘a multiple web of connections and analogies’.1200 I mention five aspects that are always treated as natural matters in the early modern writings: 1. Nature itself generates paintings in various kinds of matter, 2. there is an kinship between different kinds of paintings, 3. the painter is determined by an inborn lust for his work, 4. the painting has a moving effect on the eye and 5. the eye by nature hungers for images. I’ll explain these points briefly. Firstly, Van Hoogstraten repeatedly points out that Nature itself paints.1201 She covers stones with beautiful shades of color, draws figures on them, leaves the most wondrous paintings on frozen windows and raises human figures or artful housewares rising out of rocks or stones. ‘Wy hebben ook veel Agaetschilderyen gezien, daer de natuur in den steen geestige luchten, aerdige verschieten, eygentlijke lantschappen, steeden, gebouwen en steenrotsen wonder vreemt, en als kunstich had afgebeelt’ [We have also seen many Agate paintings, in which nature had depicted in the stone beautiful skies, nice vistas, characteristic landscapes, cities, buildings and stone rocks in a wonderfully strange and artistic way].1202 Secondly, Van Hoogstraten regards the art of painting as a natural family. On the one hand, the painting shows itself in many shapes, each with its own nature. The material used determines the variety of paintings, such as stained glass, wax painting, lacquer work, mosaic, floor painting, wood inlay work, stucco, watercolor, fresco, tempera, oil and gum paint. History shows not only the ups and downs of these types of paintings, through time, but also their spreading.1203 On the other hand, the painting is only one of the many ‘natuurlijke kinderen van de Schilderkonst’ [natural children of the art of Painting].1204 Painting with the needle (embroidery), the painted fabric (Textilis pictura), carpet weaving, making paintings with natural objects (such as colored feathers or tinted shells) or painting shells and horns, are all descendants of the same family. 1205 However, they have been disinherited by the art of painting because the craftsmanship is too cumbersome and takes too much time. 1206 Thirdly, only someone who is endowed by Nature with the urge to paint can actually become a painter (analogous to Stevin’s remark about the master builder). Van Hoogstraten twice draws the comparison between the pure love for the art of painting and the innate love for his ‘wederpaar’ [better half]. He does so with reference to Michelangelo who loved the art of painting as his housewife and considered painting to be his children.1207 In both cases there is a natural attraction or inner drive.1208 The ‘lust’ [passion] or ‘geneigdheid’ [inclination] is therefore not metaphorical in nature as is sometimes suggested. The ‘liefde tot de kunst’ [love towards the art] emphasizes the natural order in which all living and 189 inanimate beings express their destiny through their tendencies, as was also the case with Cats [Chapter 3]. According to Van Hoogstraten, the natural connection between the art of painting, the painter and the painting lies in the enjoyment involved in making the painting.1209 The true painter is in fact aroused by three things: by the hope of acquiring honor and glory, by the hope of profiting financially from his work, and by the hope of enjoyment of painting while working.1210 But it is only during painting itself that the painter tastes the full satisfaction of the work. If he cannot work for some time, his conscience gnaws, but when the work is completed, his delight is also vanished. ‘Hy geniet van de vrucht van zijn konst, maer genoot de konst zelve, toen hy schilderde’ [He enjoys the fruit of his art, but he enjoyed the art itself, when he painted].1211 Fame and monetary gain only come after the pleasure of painting has taken place. 1212 Both are the fruits that sprout from the completed painting. Because of his fame, it is in the painter’s interest to have his work appear in print.1213 Of course, he can rejoice at a diligent patron who praises his work and brings it to the attention of monarchs and merchants.1214 And in order to be able to work, it is obvious that the painter must be free of poverty and ‘het bitter zorgenpak des brootkommers’ [the bitter burden of fear for the lack of bread].1215 A moderate thirst for gold is therefore good, according to Van Hoogstraten to accomplish his task. For he says, that in the needy life, the hunger for gold gave birth to all the good arts. 1216 But a painter, like a merchant, must first and foremost keep to his last and look for the good in his own work.1217 It is therefore not surprising that Van Hoogstraten calls upon the rulers of the Netherlands, like the Greeks of yesteryear, to make good use of the country’s many natural talents. He compares the painters to a gold mine, a mine full of gems and a sea full of pearls. One must manage such a source of natural commodities well, encourage it to continue, and take from it (or fish from it) appropriately.1218 Growing and raising your own painting talent is better than taking the money to Italy to buy paintings.1219 Fourth, he points to the powerful mimetic working that images by nature have on the eye. Van Hoogstraten gives several examples. For example, how animals responding to painted similarities.1220 A goat was so convinced of the veracity of her after life ‘geschilderde zuster’ [painted sister] that she flew into a rage and destroyed the painting. This ‘geitenoordeel’ [goat judgement] is followed by other examples that show similar reactions: a partridge (who shrieks at recognition of his likeness), a little bird (that wants to land on a painted arm in vain) and a dog (who crashes against a wall on which a hostile dog is painted).1221 The classical story of Zeuxis (who deceived birds with painted grapes) and Parassius (who deceived Zeuxis by painting a curtain on his painting), quoted by Van Hoogstraten,1222 is generally regarded in art-historical literature as an example of ‘mutual jealousy’, in which ‘fidelity to nature’ is taken as a sign of 190 mastery. It is regarded as an ‘entertaining motif’ with which the artist commanded admiration for his abilities.1223 Convinced by the similarity between reality and painting, i.e. believing that there is a living creature before their eyes, according to Van Hoogstraten, the animals pass judgment on the great mastery of the painters. 1224 But the moving power of the image also manages to steal people’s hearts. Van Hoogstraten explains this using the story of the Portuguese envoy who offered the King of Borneo a costly tapestry depicting the King of England. This image was so vivid that the King of Borneo feared that the Portuguese would bring the English king to life through magic, in order to overpower his people and take his kingdom. ‘‘t welck hem zoodanich ontstelde, dat hy dit beeldtapijt haestelijk deede wech doen’ [which tormented him to such an extent that he quickly disposed of this pictorial tapestry]. It was only through the intervention of a few Moorish merchants that the Portuguese envoy was able to leave the island with his carpet in one piece. 1225 An ignorant observer soon suspects (noticing the effect of an image on his mind but is not familiar with the work done by the painter to that end) that the image possesses magical powers.1226 But even a learned man like Huygens shows himself frightened by a terrifying painting of Medusa, which, although lively and beautifully painted, he prefers not to bring into his house.1227 Examples of visual vengeance confirm the power attributed to the image. Van Hoogstraten tells an anecdote about a Roman who criticized Michelangelo’s work because he had painted too many shameless nudes in the Sistine Chapel. 1228 The criticism initially had an adverse effect. Michelangelo was able to take revenge with his brush by painting the Roman ‘schaemteloos in de Hel’ [shamelessly in Hell].1229 Painting iron bars for someone’s face, adding a monk’s hood, putting a figure’s hands in cuffs or painting a noose around his neck was conceived as a mighty ‘wrake des penseels’ [revenge of the brush], to which a defamatory verse could possibly be added. 1230 This ‘beeldmagie’ [image magic, visual magic], as Rooijakkers once called it, presupposes ‘that by depicting and showing the figures their presence is also evoked’. In the case of a depiction of the devil, as in the fifteenth-century miniature from a liturgical manuscript that Rooijakkers discusses, the evil inherently present in the image, on the contrary, should be deleted. ‘The image is thus considered to possess an immanent magical power that can be sworn by making the figure unrecognizable, for example by masking the face or, as in this case, removing it’.1231 This brings up the fifth and final point that keeps cropping up in early modern treatises: the moving power of the image is based on the natural workings of the eye that hungers for images. 1232 A harmonious variety of colors caresses the face, light and dark contrasts lure the eye, the appropriate balance on the canvas works enchantingly.1233 A well suited and varied group of gesticulating figures strikes the eye and touches the mind.1234 The sight of visual richness, of moderate variety of colors, and of beautiful balance is poignant and ‘ver-maakt’ [re-makes] 191 the mind: it enchants the eye, steals the heart and makes the viewer crave for more.1235 One recaptures the classic idea ‘that the “imitation” is in itself “vermakelijk”, whether it depicts the beautiful or the ugly, or both’, Emmens notes in another context. In the later Classicist view, where ‘the “imitation” in the first place should apply to the “beautiful”, in which the ugly may only play a role as counterpoint’, another concept of art has appeared in which the aforementioned vermakelijkheid of art no longer plays a role. The arts of drawing and painting have been transformed into ‘High’ or ‘Fine Arts’.1236 According to these early modern writers, the longing to look is insatiable.1237 In that respect, the nature of humans is similar to that of other living beings who follow their instincts.1238 Just as bees are naturally attracted to the multicolored diversity of the flower field, guests let their eye wander over a lavishly provided banquet. So graze the eyes of man when he ‘een duyzend gebrokeverwich landschap in ‘t oog krijgt, wanneer de lieve lente beemden en velden vernieuwt, en het bosch zijn nieubewasse kruinen opsteeckt’ [sees a thousand-colored landscape, when sweet spring renews meadows and fields, and the forest reaches up its newly washed crests].1239 Thus the beauty of the Greek statue strikes the eye of the artist. 1240 Likewise, the male eye is irresistibly attracted to the beautifully colored shapes of the female body. 1241 Through the natural workings of the eye, wars have arisen, as can be seen from the well-known example of the beautiful Helena. 1242 Thus the painter, in turn, by awakening desire, seduces the eye of art lovers – which is good for business.1243 The merchant does the same when he tries to arouse the desire to buy. He catches (knowing from the natural play of forces) by his display of dazzling goods, the greedy eye of the buyer.1244 The natural order that attaches the bee to the flower is the same as that which attaches the buyer to the goods, the art lover to the painting, the male eye to the female body and the painter’s eye to a beautiful sculpture. Although in art-historical literature the ‘hunger’ of the eye is known, this is interpreted in terms of a modern-economic market mechanism. Sluijter, for example, puts it like this: ‘The need to compete for the favors of the buyer/collector driven by “eye lust” is unequivocally expressed and, of course this was also of the utmost importance to the painter who had to hold his own in a free market’.1245 Basically, the image hunger can never be satisfied. Just as hunger is a natural trait in every living being longing for food, so the eye is always longing for new paintings. The eye wants to wander around in vast landscapes of paint and color that are brought to life by the brushstrokes. Nudes are spread over canvas or panel to form gigantic panoramas of working muscles, here bending or tending, stretching or wriggling, there swelling or tightening, creased, wrinkled or grooved (bp.4.148 - bp.4.151).1246 The eye is greedy and allows itself to be traversed over curvaceous flesh and explores fields and hills, undulations and ripples of which ‘tronies’ are made. In the same way, the eye scans a colorful panoramic vista, 192 with its valleys and meadows, its mountains and forests, its beach and sea. With here a building, over there a stream and there a figure or cart (bp.4.161). Zie toe, indien gy met een losse zwier de spartelachtige meijen der boomen nabootst, dat gy elk haer eygen aert uitbeelt; want de beezemachtige Cipres, en den kronkelenden Eykeltak gelijken elkander niet. Linden en Willigen loof verschilt te veel; zoo verschilt de stam des Kastanjesbooms van des Beukelaers. Onderschey Rotssen, Grotten, Geboomten, Struiken, Stammen, Biesbossen, Bloemen, Lovers en Takken. Merk op de ruyme schaduwe, waer de dichte takken elkander prangen, en wijs zachtelijk aen, daer de heldere lucht in de boomtoppen schemert. Neem naukeurich acht op de klaere voorgront, met Doornen en Distelen en breede blaren bewerkt, laetze klaer en groot, vry een hoek van uw werk vullen (...). Laet het kromme wagespoor, of ter rechter of slinkerhandt, zachtelijk rijzen, hier week en slikkerich, en ginder ten heuvel op, of in mulle zanden, of barre heyden, vlak leggen. Dat de wijers, daer de Waerden en witte Zwaenen zwemmen, waterpas, en de beekjes ten dale glijen, uw gebouwen vast staen, en de boere gehuchten vry koddich en bouvallich op zy leunen.1247 [See, if you follow with a loose sweep the spindly may branches of trees, that you depict their own nature; for the broom-like Cypress, and the winding Oak branch do not resemble each other. Foliage of Linden and Willow differ too much; so, differs the trunk of the Chestnut tree from the Beech tree. Distinguish Rocks, Caves, Trees, Shrubs, Logs, Marshland with rushes, Flowers, foliage and Branches. Note the wide shadows, where the dense branches obstruct each other, and calmly point out, where the clear sky shimmers in the treetops. Pay close attention to the bright foreground, treated with Thorns and Thistles and broad leaves, let them be bright and large, filling a corner of your work unhindered (…). (...). Let the crooked wagon track, on the right or left, rise gently, here soaked and muddy, and yonder up the hill, or in loose sand, or poor heather, lie flat. That the pools, where the Ducks and white Swans swim, is level, and the streams glide down the valley, your buildings stand firm, and the peasant hamlets lean rather droll and ruinous on them]. The power of a good painting thus lies in its ability to make use of the innate nature of the eye to rejoice in colors and shapes, contrasts and contours. ‘In this formulation, sight itself, penetrating deep into the landscape, constitutes the history’s action, and seeing displaces the story told as history’s principal event’ is Melion’s conclusion regarding Van Mander’s statements.1248 In this way the mind is touched and moved. The gaze is snared and overwhelmed, caught and overwhelmed, occupied and inexorably bound to the painting.1249 Van Hoogstraten points out how this mimetic power can be employed for the benefit of spreading the religion. Painted tableaux, better than warlords, heroes or tyrants, can persuade peoples to embrace the faith.1250 Barbaric peoples are powerless in the face of good and beautiful images. They are conquered, tamed and captured without a fight. For Van Hoogstraten argues, ‘Aristoteles gevraegt zijnde, waerom 193 ‘t geene schoon was, bemint wiert? antwoorde te recht, dat dit een blindemans vraege was’ [Aristotle, when asked why that which was beautiful was loved, rightly replied that this was a blind man’s question].1251 How do all these statements relate to the art historical view that Renaissance art theory is a science? Art historians usually explain the scientific nature of Italian art theory through the input of existing sciences. By introducing rhetoric and mathematics (particularly the linear perspective), scholars and humanists tried to achieve the same status for painting. Thus, Zwijnenberg writes: ‘By presenting painting as a mathematical science (i.e., as an ars liberalis), Leonardo placed the Paragone within the debate on the classification of knowledge that was being conducted by the humanists in his day. The linear perspective is an important argument in this respect’.1252 It is true that through the use of rhetorical terminology or through a rhetorical structure (as in the case of Alberti and Van Mander), through a mathematical argument via proofs (as in the case of Da Vinci, analogous to Stevin’s conception of ‘wisconst’ [the art of mathematics] as ‘gewisse kennis’ [certain knowledge]),1253 one has been able to provide the knowledge of painting with a certain structure. But this says little about the nature of that knowledge, nor about the epistemological status of the early modern image. Let’s have a closer look into these questions and what the early modern sources can provide about it. The argument is that painting (and drawing) with their exact imitation, 1254 with observing nature, produces general knowledge about Nature. 1255 So painting is understood as a science, and the painting is part of the truth that art produces. ‘Considered as a kind of knowledge, the art of painting is to be judged by two standards: the certainty of its premises and methods, and the completeness of the knowledge represented by its productions’ is how Blunt sums up the thinking of Alberti and Da Vinci on this point. 1256 This reasoning assumes that in science 1. the eye (perception) has a special status in the acquisition of knowledge, 2. there is a limited number of faculties that together bring about a complete insight into Nature and 3. that this knowledge can be made visible in an image. 1257 Of all the early modern treatises, starting with Cennino Cennini’s Libro dell’arte, Da Vinci speaks out most explicitly on these points. 1258 This is despite the fact that his Trattato della Pittura was compiled by pupils on the basis of notes. The manuscript circulated in copy form from the end of the sixteenth century. Others such as Galileo Galilei (in a letter from 1612) and Baldassare Castiglione (The Courtier, 1528) often literally derive arguments from Da Vinci. 1259 In short, his views boil down to the following. The eye is a sharper observer than the other senses.1260 When Van Hoogstraten expresses the supremacy of vision, he repeats a classical conception, one that leads Da Vinci to write a ‘Lof der Ogen’ [Praise of the Eyes].1261 Da 194 Vinci points out the special sensibility of the eye and the immediate impression it provides. His mathematically constructed comparison of painting with poetry, music and sculpture (known under the 19th-century name ‘paragone’ [competition])1262 is therefore only a means of proving with certainty that the art of painting meets the ten Aristotelian criteria.1263 Its aim was not (as is generally stated in art history) a hierarchical struggle between painting, poetry, music and sculpture – with painting as ‘the most valuable and most important art’ –, nor was it intended to degrade the other three arts.1264 Because of its natural resemblance, only the eye is precise and accurate, it offers a direct, unambiguous observation and, because of its instant accessibility, it is also universal.1265 In this way, Da Vinci links knowing to seeing. 1266 It is a classic connection that stems from Aristotle: ‘All our knowledge has its origin in our perceptions’.1267 Thus, according to Blunt, Da Vinci turns against the scholastic view, in which knowledge is linked to logical speculation and text authority, hence separate from Nature. Da Vinci ‘exactly reverses the medieval canon that a science is only certain if it is purely speculative and merely mechanical if it comes into contact with the material universe’.1268 With his plea in favor of the eye he also turns against the platonic view in which the image is in principle excluded from the truth. ‘In this matter Leonardo is even more whole-heartedly opposed to any idealism than Alberti. In his practical advice to the painter there is no trace of it, and he never suggested that the artist must make nature conform to some idea which exists in his mind, though nature herself, of course, is subject to general laws’.1269 Da Vinci specifies ten faculties (‘ufficio’, ‘ornamenti’) to gather knowledge about the ‘infinite works of Nature’:1270 ‘namely light, dark, color, body, form, place, distance, proximity, movement and rest’.1271 Only with the help of these categories or distinctions can the visible world be understood. 1272 De schilder toont je verscheidene afstanden door de kleur van de tussen de voorwerpen en het oog gelegen lucht te variëren, hij toont je de mist waar de waarnemingsbeelden der voorwerpen met moeite doorheen dringen, hij toont je de regens en daarachter de wolken met bergen en dalen, hij toont je de stofwolken met daarbinnen en daarachter de strijders die de stof doen opdwarrelen, hij toont je de meer of minder gezwollen rivieren en de vissen die tussen de waterspiegel en de bodem spelen, hij toont je de glad geschuurde kiezels in bonte kleuren, liggend op de gewassen rivierbeddingen, omringd door de groenende grassen onder het wateroppervlak, hij toont je de sterren op verschillende hoogten boven ons, en zo talloos veel andere effecten ... 1273 [The painter shows you various distances by varying the color of the sky between the objects and the eye, he shows you the mist through which the perception images of the objects effortlessly penetrate, he shows you the rains and behind them the clouds with mountains and valleys, he shows you the dust clouds with inside and behind them the 195 warriors who make the dust swirl up, he shows you the more or less swollen rivers and the fish that play between the water surface and the bottom, he shows you the smooth sanded pebbles in variegated colors, lying on the washed riverbeds, surrounded by the greening grasses under the water surface, he shows you the stars at different heights above us, and so many other effects ... ]. Da Vinci bases these distinctions on the ten categories of knowledge mentioned by Aristotle.1274 ‘In Aristotle’s opinion these categories stand for all that can be said about, or predicated of, individual things in our external world’.1275 They are the ten irreducible categories ‘substance, quantity, quality, relation, place where, time when, position, state, acting, and being acted on’. These faculties (or fundamental principles) of natural science are understood primarily in the mind.1276 The mind considers the impressions that our eyes select and deliver from the visible world.1277 ‘If Leonardo writes that the categories “are comprehended only by the mind”, this means that the mind is contemplating what the eyes see. In Leonardo’s notion of the mind the judgement of the eye is a critical element. Hence, we may conclude that for Leonardo a work of art is born from a nonhierarchical interaction between mind, eye, and hand’.1278 But according to Da Vinci and others, the art of painting should be more than a mental activity that takes place between the eye and the mind. 1279 The wisdom of the painter must therefore be greater than that of a mathematician. After all, the latter (as Stevin also emphasizes) does not have to deal with matter.1280 Only in painting itself, in the masterful handling of the drawing pen and brush, in the manipulation of paint and the composing of fields can the painter make his knowledge of Nature fully visible. Als de schilder schoonheden wil zien die hem in liefde doen ontsteken, is hij meester om ze te verwekken, en als hij monsterlijkheden die angst inboezemen, of koddige en lachwekkende of waarlijk meelijwekkende dingen wil zien, is hij meester en God daarover. En als hij bewoonde oorden en woestijnen, schaduwrijke of duistere plekken bij warm weer wil voortbrengen, geeft hij ze vorm, en evenzo warme plekken bij koud weer. Als hij valleien wenst, als hij vanaf hoge bergtoppen grote landouwen wil ontwaren, en daarna de einder van de zee wil zien, is hij meester daarover. En als hij vanuit de diepe dalen de hoge bergen, of vanaf de hoge bergen de diepe dalen en kusten wil zien, en inderdaad alles wat zich in het universum bevindt door essentie, aanwezigheid of inbeelding, heeft hij dat eerst in zijn geest en dan in zijn handen. En deze zijn van zo grote voortreffelijkheid dat ze tegelijkertijd in één enkel blik een geëvenredigde harmonie verwekken, zoals de natuurlijke dingen doen.1281 [If the painter wants to see beauties that ignite him in love, he is master to conceive them, and if he wants to see monstrosities that instil fear, or droll and laughable or truly pitiful things, he is master and God over them. And if he wants to bring forth inhabited places and 196 deserts, shady or dark spots in warm weather, he shapes them, and equally warm spots in cold weather. If he desires valleys, if he wants to see great lands from high mountain peaks, and then see the horizon of the sea, he is master of them. And if from the deep valleys he wants to see the high mountains, or from the high mountains the deep valleys and coasts, and indeed everything that is in the universe by essence, presence or imagination, he has that first in his mind and then in his hands. And these are of such great excellence that they simultaneously, in a single glance, generate an equal harmony, as natural things do]. The non-hierarchical cooperation between mind, eye and hand that Van Hoogstraten defends is also seen here in the case of Da Vinci. However, it has now become clear that – analogous to Stevin’s scientific views – mental and physical actions are both implied in the art of painting in order to generate true knowledge. ‘The train of thought in this section’ Zwijnenberg summarizes, ‘show that intellectual and manual activity cannot do without each other in Leonardo’s science of painting: without the actions of the hand, painting would degenerate into one of the deceitful mental sciences (...). The intellectual and manual actions of painting are not related hierarchically, but presuppose each other. For Leonardo, a work of art without physical form would be unimaginable. And he thought that a science without physical manifestation could not claim to be true’.1282 Analogous to Stevin’s inseparable connection of ‘spiegeling’ [reflecting] and ‘daad’ [doing] in the art of building [see Chapter 2], in the art of painting too theory is inextricably linked to practice. Da Vinci’s warning recalls Stevin’s: ‘Those who devote themselves to practice without science are like sailors who put to sea without rudder or compass and who can never be certain where they are going. Practice must always be founded on sound theory’.1283 In his ‘stille opmerkende betrachtingen van de geheymen der natuer’ [quietly observant considerations of the mysteries of nature], the good painter, according to Van Hoogstraten, practices a noble liberal art (‘Pictura’) that is related to the ‘bespiegelende wijsgeerte’ [reflective philosophy].1284 This is the rationale for his remark that the perfect painting is like a ‘mirror’ or ‘mimic’ of Nature – so it is by no means a symbolic ornament to elevate the ‘art theory’, as is commonly believed.1285 The advice given by authors such as Alberti and Da Vinci to use mirrors to discover the errors in a painting thus acquires a epistemological significance.1286 The art of painting can only demonstrate the truth it engenders in concrete works: paintings, drawings and prints.1287 ‘In this sense, a painting is not merely a depiction of nature, but gives true knowledge of nature. 1288 Because of their veracity to nature, early modern images preserve and disseminate different kinds of knowledge. According to Van Hoogstraten (referring to Ovid) paintings not only have the honor of being ‘boeken der leeken’ [books of the layman], but also ‘bewaerders van der Goden geheimnissen’ [guardians of the mysteries of the Gods].1289 Incidentally, Van Hoogstraten’s remark that the painting is a ‘bedrieger’ [imposter, trickster] of the sight does not contradict this.1290 The art of 197 painting deceives because (consisting of paint, canvas, wood, glue and nails) it does not coincide with Nature. It follows Nature, presents Nature in her visual properties, it is not Nature. This new epistemological status of the image is related to the duties of a good painter.1291 The good painter is a free citizen, who behaves with dignity and takes his responsibility for public affairs.1292 The practice of the liberal arts is usually associated with being exempt: materially independent (as opposed to working for a living), in possession of free time (as opposed to having to devote all one’s time to work), and of a free spirit (as opposed to physical labor).1293 The early modern authors, who considered the physical labor, financial gain and mental effort inherent in the art of painting, put the emphasis elsewhere. It is not the exemption from all kinds of burgher obligations that makes painting a free art, but the practice by a free citizen gives it the dignity that the artes liberalis is due. In the words of Van Hoogstraten: ‘En dat zy onder de vrye konsten behoort, blijkt daer uyt, om datmen die alleen vrye noemde, die men waerdich achte van vrye menschen geleert te worden. Waer onder de Schilderkonst geen van de geringste getelt wiert’ [And that it belongs to the free arts is evident from the fact that only those arts are called free, which are considered worthy to be learned by free people. Among which the art of painting is not considered to be among the least].1294 The first ground rule is that the painter adheres to depicting the truth (or probability) of the event. As an example, Van Hoogstraten mentions that Jews and other Eastern peoples did not sit at the table on chairs and benches; they participated in the meal, lying on a sofa. That alone explains that Mary Magdalene, as the Bible says, stood behind Jesus’ feet, shed tears over Him, and dried Him with her hair. To portray Jesus sitting on a chair is therefore untrue, because the event could never have happened. 1295 Secondly, the depiction of true events must always be done with modesty, prudence and moderation: not all true subjects are worthy of being seen, and not all places are suitable for showing them. Alberti emphatically points out in this context that the painter should lay his ear to the crowd to find out what they think of a painting. The painter should then consider these opinions in order to be able to decide on improvements. 1296 Thirdly, the painter must give his image dignity. ‘Een verheven geest deelt zijne vindingen een deftigen nadruk toe, welke zijne werken als een onverderflijk zout altijts als versch bewaert’ [An exalted mind confers a worthy weight on his inventions, which, like an unperishable salt, keeps his works always as fresh].1297 The rules of the art of painting discussed in the first part of this fourth chapter are thus more than ‘technical instructions’ for a practical craftsmanship that are separate from the learned humanistic theory. 1298 The opposite appears to be the case. Pictorial conventions are the foundation of how to distinguish and know the visual qualities of living and inanimate beings in Nature. Observing and experimenting in this sense is an extension of each other.1299 This knowledge of 198 Nature is visibly stored in the paintings of early modern Europe. 1300 In this way, an early modern visual dispositive emerges that connects people through their various drives to the visual material (painter and viewer, merchant and writer, patron and illiterate). Moreover, there is a money and trade circuit attached to it, making the dispositive similar to the cinematographic dispositive in modern times. Specific to the early modern period, however, is that the image acquires a distinctive epistemological status. Between 1450 and 1600 the image, with its knowledge of Nature, calls into question the already existing truths about the visible world. The new status of the image is related to a shift from logical speculation in scholasticism to visual ratio in the early modern period. With which, by the way, I don’t want to claim that some pure form of visual thought arises – many of the discourses mentioned consist of an amalgam of views. There is no question of a certain hegemony of Neoplatonic idealism as once described by Panofsky. 1301 One area in which a related transformation is taking place during the same period is the art of memory. The notion of powerful memory images in remembering knowledge already exists in classical times. As late as the seventeenth century, images, especially paintings, were praised for their support in preserving memories, memorable events, and in particular, the true-to-nature image of a deceased person.1302 The art of painting is, as Van Hoogstraten writes: een gedenkschrift der voorledene zaken: een wonderlijke vertooning van ‘t geene ver af is: een Prophetische verbeelding van ‘t geen noch te gebeuren staet; en de machtichste onder de konsten. Waeromze ook met recht het boek der Leeken genoemt wort; werkende met een doordringende kracht op het gezicht van allerley menschen.1303 [a memoir of past things: a wondrous display of that which is far away: a Prophetic imagination of that which is yet to come; and the most powerful among the arts. That is why she is also rightly called the book of the Laity; working with a penetrating power on the sight of all kinds of people]. Goeree, Van Mander and Alberti also praise the potential of images to penetratingly keep the viewer’s memory awake and strengthen it. ‘Painting contains a divine force which not only makes absent men present, as friendship is said to do, but moreover makes the dead seem almost alive’.1304 Yates (1988) confirms this with reference to early modern authors such as Dolce (1562) and Porta (1602) who consider paintings by Titian or Michelangelo and Raphael to be very useful as memory images. 1305 ‘Human figures should be used as memory images, and preference should be given to the most conspicuous, the extraordinarily beautiful or the extraordinarily ridiculous. It is helpful to take images from the hand of great artists as memory images, because these are more 199 striking and “stirring” than images of mediocre painters. Images by, for example, Michelangelo, Rafael and Titian stay with us’.1306 So Dolce writes: When we are somewhat familiar with the art of painters, we will be even more adept at shaping our memory images. If you want to remember the fable of Europe, you can use the painting of Titian as a memory image: also for Adonis, or any other fabulous history, profane and sacred, choosing figures that delight and therefore stimulate memory. 1307 In her study, Yates charted the fate of memory art and the transformation of mnemonic techniques in European history. From an entirely different angle she sheds light on the ability of images to move and to stir. This is not the place to go into that in detail. Nor am I primarily concerned with the determination that authors such as Van Hoogstraten, Alberti, Goeree, Van Mander and Da Vinci with their ideas about the moving painting, the craving eye and the importance of memory are certainly no exceptions. 1308 More importantly, a number of aspects of the early modern art of memory shed new light on issues such as idolatry and unchaste images. Looking ‘with the eyes of memory’, Yates suggests, for example, that Giotto’s remarkable paintings of virtues with their outstanding attributes can be revised: ‘These figures are rightly famous for the variety and vitality that the great artist gave them, and for the way in which they stand out against their background, suggesting a completely new illusion of depth on a flat plane. I would like to suggest that we might well owe both of these characteristics to the art of memory’.1309 Common to the many variations of the art of memory is that they use images to remember knowledge. These images are placed in a mental structure. By successively evoking the images in thought, an orator (a preacher or a scholar), for example, can evoke the parts of his speech (sermon or text). Another way, which Quintilian advocates, places more emphasis on the schematic or architectural arrangement of knowledge.1310 A characteristic of the inner memory images or imagines agentes is that they are always very conspicuous; their emotional efficacy is enhanced by their extraordinary shape. Exceptional beauty or shocking ugliness, extremely comical or particularly obscene: the image one brings to mind in order to remember a matter must be striking, touch the soul and stick in the imagination.1311 In the art of memory one has to paint images in order to remember the knowledge, techniques one is taught during a training. In the medieval scholastic tradition, everyone makes their own visualization in order to store, find and evoke knowledge through dramatic images. 1312 The descriptions of attention-grabbing figures that are found sporadically in these times are meant to explain this mnemonic technique. They are not recipes for making visible images. In the early modern period, however, the prestige of the classical art of memory changed. Yates showed that the art of printing in particular – which introduced the paper memory aid – had far-reaching consequences.1313 The art of 200 printing made the imaginary constructions and the invisible images superfluous when remembering knowledge. Yates therefore wonders what can explain the revival, blossoming and differentiation that early modern art of memory goes through.1314 The two variations in the art of memory from the classical period return in new combinations and in new forms. On the one hand, the hermetic tradition produces an occult and magical visualization. The works by Giordano Bruno (1548-1600) and Robert Fludd (1574-1637) are examples of this.1315 Mythological figures, celestial signs, hieroglyphic diagrams, letter and number signs, and spinning combinatorial wheels generate an all-encompassing cosmicmagical whole saturated with meaning. In the treatises from the Dutch seventeenth century discussed so far, only fragments of this thinking can be found.1316 On the other hand, a purification of the memory system occurs through the removal of the triggering and salient images in favor of schematic arrangements and ‘methods’. An example is the work by Petrus Ramus (1515-1572), which we already encountered with Stevin. 1317 Yates notes that the visualizing qualities of the classical art of memory were already removed from the art of rhetoric because they were considered medieval distortions. Attention shifts to the order suggested by Quintilian and this is intensified. Erasmus and Melanchton, for example, turn against the scholastic imagination and conduct an ‘inner iconoclasm’ in order to restore the art of memory to its ‘classical purity’.1318 Such an endeavor in which ornamentation and eloquence (rhetoric) are separated from orderly evidence (dialectics) has been encountered before in the formulation of the various arts. In the same period, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, all kinds of word-image combinations appear, such as the two-part impresa and the three-part emblems. The latter in particular remained popular well into the seventeenth century.1319 Both the word and the image in the emblem are special in their form because, as Jacob Cats points out (see Chapter 3), they remain stuck in the memory because of their noteworthy traits.1320 The words are strung together to form a saying, a proverb (motto), provided with catchy and titillating symbolism. Cats formulates this as follows:1321 Datse, mids de spitse haerder scherpheyt, krachtelijck door-dringen in de gemoederen der menschen, latende in de selve als seekere weer-haken, dienstigh tot opweckinghe van dieper bedenckinge, als wel voor eerst daar in scheen te schuylen. (...) Datse de bytende waerheyt (...) met een verbloemde om-reeden tot in het binnenste der gemoederen behendelijck indringen. [That it, by the perspicacity of its shrewdness, powerfully penetrates into the mind of man, and makes it work as sure barbs to awaken deep thoughts which before seemed to be hidden therein. (...) That it deftly allows the biting truth (...) clothed with disguised reason, to penetrate into the innermost parts of the mind]. 201 The images (pictura) form a procession of miraculous and sensational creatures. Sometimes, as with allegorical figures, they have bizarre attributes. They show all kinds of visible characteristics of the previously invisible and personal imagines agentes. Sometimes the trivia (the things, the animals, the people, the chambers) dominate, but is their combination remarkable and unusual.1322 The Iconologia by Cesare Ripa (1594) (with his parade of ‘verscheiden beeldnissen van deughden, ondeughden, menschelijke hertztochten, konsten, leeringhen’ [various images of virtues, vices, human passions, arts, lessons]) as well as Van Mander’s Wtbeeldinge der figueren [Depiction of the figures] (1604) or Cats’ Spiegel van den Ouden en Nieuwen Tyt [Mirror of the Old and New Times] (1632) are then not so much the remains of a learned pastime. 1323 They are even less culturalhistorical tools for making sense of the deeper content of everyday images.1324 The ‘Uijtbeeldinghe des verstants’ [Depiction of the mind], however, is an externalization of the invisible tantalizing figures with their strange attributes, but without the structure (and significance) of the imaginary memory system. In this sense, the emblem is a transitional product in which image and word are placed temporarily next to each other on the same flat plane. As a memory trigger, word and image are well matched and treated as equals, but as forces of imprinting they reinforce each other.1325 As a memory aid, the emblem passes on existing knowledge at various levels. In this context, Cats’ statement that the emblem is a ‘Spiegel der Waerheydt’ [Mirror of the Truth] is particularly accurate: : ‘invoegen dat het selve sal konnen dienen d’onwetende tot onderwijsinge, de wijse tot onderhoudt, de kinderen tot leere, de jongelingen to breydels, den ouderdom tot vermaeck, en alle menschen in ‘t gemeen tot SPIEGEL der Waerheydt’ [so that it may serve the ignorant for instruction, the wise for conversation, the children for teaching, the young for rein, old age for enjoyment, and all men in general form MIRROR of the Truth] (bp.3.44.3).1326 In compact form it offers true knowledge for contemplation. Due to its multiple shape (black and white, printed), the emblem is also guaranteed to spread quickly. The emblem sticks in the mind: through the image, or through the word, but it will stick. In this way, early modern knowledge spreads rapidly, is carried through time and makes new conceptual combinations possible. At the same time, the expansive scale of this cerebral transfer explains the relatively short life the emblem had as a kind of cultural intermediary product.1327 In the course of the seventeenth century, these knowledge-transferring word-image combinations will be replaced by other, ‘scientific’ combinations.1328 The magical power attributed to the image is maintained, but it changes shape: the image becomes the preeminent place where true knowledge is located. Not only the art of painting plays an important role in this, but also the graphic techniques and the mathematical methods of drawing; especially the visual shape in which the many technical findings appear and circulate in this era has increased the impact of technology. I 202 will return to the convergence of the various trajectories of visual material for the conceptual universe in the first part of Chapter 5. In the light of the above, one can also consider the issue of religious paintings, the Protestant complaint about the abuse of images (or idolatry) and the counterreformatory charge of heresy in images. 1329 Freedberg (1986) rightly remarked that although the criticism that echoed throughout Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was directed against the veneration of images of God, it was in fact about ‘the question of the image’ as such. Not only in religious circles, but also in the profane world, this debate has repercussions from high to low. ‘This [question] was printed in the form of books or pamphlets and carried out in sermons in the largest churches, in barns or in the open air, so that few people, of whatever rank, did not hear of it. The question of whether it was permissible to make pictures played through everyone's mind in one form or another, so that no one could completely escape the great discussion of their institutional, spiritual, economic and even social significance’.1330 In the history of the Church a number of arguments against the use of images have been known since early Christianity. The debate deals with the question of the relationship between the image and the thing depicted (visible shape versus invisible deity, sensual desire versus mental spirituality, worship of dead matter versus devotion to a living God).1331 The arguments against the image regularly crop up in European history, with Byzantine iconoclasm as the religious nadir in the eighth and ninth centuries. 1332 The moral resistance against the abuse of images (idolatry and profits) was raised again in the early modern period: not only by a scholar like Erasmus, but also by reformers like Luther and Calvin. 1333 Eventually the protestant criticism culminates in an iconoclasm that swept through various regions of Europe in the sixteenth century. 1334 The Catholic Church’s opposition to the abuse of religious images, on the other hand, results in a strict program of rules for the Christian image as part of the ‘ecclesiastical absolutism’ that takes shape after the Counter Reformation. 1335 The views on the image during the Reformation and Counter-Reformation are at first sight confusing and inconsistent. Thus, Erasmus turned against the image with its titillating and misleading effect in general and against the ecclesiastical images in particular. But he does not deny the importance of visuality in everyday life. 1336 Kempers states, for example: Erasmus ‘formulates a nuanced resistance against the abuse of deceptive images that violate Revelation, is by no means blind to visual pleasure and recognizes the inherent nature of the visual in fathoming faith, morality and truth’.1337 In most literature, therefore, Erasmus is described as a virtuous scholar who, although less fiercely than others, views the influence of the image on both men and women with great suspicion. 1338 203 In fact, this interpretation ignores the question of what Erasmus image conception consists of, given these contradictions. Luther and Calvin turned more strongly against the abuse of the religious image, especially against the image of God, but less against the usefulness of images for believers (Luther appreciated the usefulness in teaching) or against the God-given talent of painters to make images (Calvin especially criticized the sensual effect of ecclesiastical images). 1339 Something similar is happening on the Catholic side. The latest Decree of the Council of Trent consolidates views that have been expressed on similar issues since around 1530.1340 The abuse of images is also denounced here. But instead of a certain distrust of the image, the aim is to encourage its production, provided it is bound by rules.1341 I will not deal with ‘the great debate about the image’ in a religious context and from a modern arthistorical point of view (as usually happens), but will situate the ‘religious debate about the image’ in the context of the early modern art of painting. 1342 The ambiguities in the religious debates and the various consequences this has had for the status of the image can in fact be largely traced back to the new conception of painted tableaux that is taking shape in the transition to the early modern period.1343 From the Counter-Reformation onward, both Protestants and Catholics move in the same field of possibilities. Let us look again at Van Hoogstraten’s treatise. At first glance, he seems to take an ambiguous position. Towards the end of his writings, he roundly rejects the religious abuse of images several times. 1344 But the comments he otherwise makes about it are as hybrid as the religious debate. A debate of which he is aware, as evidenced by his references to Calvin. 1345 ‘God mag noch kan men niet lichamelijk afbeelden; Maer al wat gezien word, mag maer geschildert worden’ [One neither may nor can depict God bodily; But all that is seen may be painted] Van Hoogstraten reports in the margin.1346 On the one hand he rejects the worship and adoration of paintings. On the other hand, he fervently defends the dignity of the painted image. On the one hand, he mocks viewers who allow themselves to be overwhelmed by the miraculous appeal of the painting. On the other hand, he defends the ability of a painted image to please, tame and bind the viewer’s eye. On the one hand he accuses the spectators of worshipping only the perishable wood and paint. On the other hand, he exuberantly praises the power of natural colors and pigments. These contradictory statements are rooted in two different conceptions of the image. In early Christianity, the image is mediator, referent and 'memorial' between the invisibly divine and the believer, between biblical text and world, between morality and afterlife, established through a multiple ‘visual exegesis’.1347 The preciousness of the image lies in the gold leaf, ultramarine and gemstones from which it is formed. The great value of these substances is a sign of the spiritual and invisible world in the beyond.1348 The image is a mirror of the Kingdom of God, with the shine of gold and precious stones symbolizing the gaze 204 upwards. Gemstones thus refer to the Heavenly Jerusalem, as was already the case with Jacob Cats [Chapter 3].1349 An altar painting, a twinkling illumination in a scripture, a dome covered in multicolored mosaic, a plastic sculpture or glittering stained glass windows in the cathedral: the believer is led to Heaven through these tableaux. The gaze is turned upward. Although this powerful effect of the image persists, the direction of the gaze begins to tilt in the early modern era. At the same time, the eye becomes more dynamic because it focuses on the characteristics of the image. The image is considered in two ways: by probing the relationship of the image to the visible world and by allowing the gaze to wander over the flat plane.1350 The dignity of the image lies in the copia and varietas of colors, in the chiaroscuro and in the vistas and bodies that cover the flat plane. According to Da Vinci, the preciousness of the painted image lies in its being made. The painting does not allow herself to be written off like letters, of which the copy is worth as much as the original, she does not allow herself to be cast like the sculpture, of which the print is equal to the original as far as the merit of the work is concerned, she does not make infinite amount of offspring like the printed books. Only she remains noble, only she worships her Author and remains precious and one-off and never gives birth to offspring equal to herself. This peculiarity makes it more outstanding than the sciences that are widely spread.1351 The appropriate arrangement of the natural pigments as a true ‘mirror of nature’ becomes a sign of the innate and practiced talent of the painter who masterfully masters the rules of the art of painting. The lifelike painted image seduces the eye, enraptures it and makes one ignite in love. Common to both image conceptions is the appreciation of the materiality of the painting and the meaningful reference to an order beyond the image. But in terms of interpretation, both conceptions differ considerably. The early Christian appreciation of the costliness of fabrics is her reference to eternity, the early modern appreciation applies to the painter who, because of his innate talent and practiced mastery, knows how to arrange the fabrics correctly. This difference in interpretation makes the early Christian and the early modern conceptions of images incomparable. In the early Christian context of a divine-natural order, where image, substances and painter are part, one owes respect to the invisible Deity through the image. In the early modern context of a natural-divine order, of which image, substances and painter are part, one owes respect through the image to the master painter who proliferates with his natural talents. When at the beginning of the fifteenth century gold and precious stones are removed from the painted tableau, when in the following century certain rules are set up for the art of painting which the painter must accomplish with skill and diligence and the painting acquires a new epistemological status, it is not surprising that in time the relationship between the image and religion comes under pressure. In the course 205 of the sixteenth century this was actually the case. Nor is it surprising that scholars approach these changes by drawing on time-honored religious image conceptions from the Jewish, Christian, and Byzantine traditions.1352 Many of the ‘religious’ controversies and misunderstandings can be traced back to the fact that from the sixteenth century onward there were several image conceptions that clashed with each other. For example, Van Hoogstraten compares his copy, made according to the rules of the art of painting, with the poorly conditioned but original religious image, which is set with precious materials. Compared to this sacred piece, he considers his painting only average: Ik heb voor Keyzer Ferdinand eens een berookte lievrouw met haer Kindeken, zoo men zeyde, van Sint Lukas in den Hemel na ‘t leven geschildert, gekopieert: maer het principael was zoo slecht, dat ik my van Sint Lukas wegen daer over schaemde, en schoon mijn kopy het principael in konst mocht overtroffen hebben, zoo bleef het toch maer een gemeene Schildery, daer het andere als een heylichdom bewaert, opgesloten en opgesiert wierd: want het hooft der Maget was met een goude kroon, dierbaere gesteenten en paerlen bezet; ja en den ganschen grondt met kleinodien besteken.1353 [I once copied for Emperor Ferdinand a smoked sweet lady with her Child, who is said to have been painted after life by Saint Luke in Heaven, but the original was so bad, that I was ashamed on behalf of Saint Luke, although my copy of the original may have surpassed it in art of painting, remained after all but an ordinary Painting, while the other was kept, locked up and adorned like a shrine: For the head of the Virgin was set with a crown of gold, precious stones and pearls; yea, and the whole surface ground was adorned with trinkets]. When Van Hoogstraten writes: ‘‘t Misbruik der Schilderyen komt niet wegens de konst’ [the Abuse of Paintings does not come because of the art of painting], he acknowledges that paintings are unjustly worshipped.1354 One pays respect to the paints used by the painter as if they were the precious materials of yesteryear pointing to the divine glory.1355 But, according to his reasoning, the cause of the abuse does not lie in the pigments used or in the painted image, but in a wrong conception of the image. Some ‘geestelijke bedriegers’ [spiritual tricksters] (by which he understands both priests and painters) deliberately and for their own benefit bring this wrong conception of images to the ignorant believers, in order to tempt ordinary people to worship images as a sign of God. 1356 ‘Want wat is de Schilderye? De wijze man zegt [Cap.14.15], een gedaente, die bevlekt is met verscheyden verwen’ [Cause what is the Painting? The wise man says [Cap.14.15], a shape flecked with different colors]. He therefore considers it wrong to abolish paintings because they are being abused: Dus is misbruik der Schilderyen teegen Godts gebodt, en by alle verstandigen bestraft en veragt. Maer dan het rechte gebruik daer van daerom afgeschaft zouw worden, was zoo 206 onreedelijk, als ofmen den Wijn uit de werelt bande, om dat hy misbruikt zijnde, dronken maekt; of dat men alle lusthoven en tuinen tot wildernissen maekten, om dat onze voorouders zich in den eersten lusthof al te dartel vergreepen hebben, jae of men ‘t geheel vrouwelijk geslachte veroordeelde, om dat d’eerste zonde in haer Sexe begaen is.1357 [Thus, misuse of the Paintings against God’s commandment, is bestirred and despised by all sensible people. But that therefore its proper use should be abolished was as unreasonable as if one were to banish the Wine from the world, because being abused it makes one drunk; Or that all pleasure gardens should be turned into wildernesses, because our ancestors behaved too frivolously in the first pleasure garden, yes, or that the entire female sex should be condemned, because the first sin was committed by her sex]. The abuse can only be abolished when the ignorant are taught that their emotional turmoil caused by the painting is not a supernatural sign, but an effect the accomplished painter makes with the aid of paint.1358 Van Hoogstraten illustrates this point of view with an analogous case. Egyptian priests managed to let the rising sun fall on their gods through secret openings in the building. Thus, they led the ignorant spectators, unaware of the cause of the miraculous light, to worship images of gods. Unfortunately, such abuse has also crept into Christianity, he must conclude: Zeker een gruwelijk misbruik van deeze konstvonden, daer ik wel wensche dat onze genaemde Christenheyt geheel vry van was. Want ik heb ook gezien, dat men dergelijke oogbeguichelingen in Kapellen en Kerken in ‘t werk stelde, die men dan een heylig bedrog noemde, en hoewelze d’aendagt der toezienders, gelijk ik zelfs niet en ontken, scheenen te vermeerderen, zoo houd ikze voor ongeoorlofde middelen, voor snoode bedriegeryen, en voor voortplantingen van overgelof en verdoemelijke Afgodery. De konst verliest den naem van konst, als men de toezienders daer door in gevoelen brengt, dat’er een meer dan menschelijk vermogen onder speelt, jae men magze dan met recht een schelmachtige guichelrye en Toverye noemen.1359 [Certainly, a horrible misuse of these findings, of which I wish our so-called Christianity was entirely free. For I have also seen such eye-deceptions being worked on in Chapels and Churches, which were then called a holy deception, and though, as I will not deny, they seemed to increase the attention of the spectators, yet I regard them as illicit means, nefarious deceptions, and progenitors of superstition and damnable idolatry. Art loses the name of art when it makes the spectators feel that there is a more than human ability at play, yes then it can rightly be called a villainous juggling and Magic]. It is noteworthy that the religious schism led to two mutually exclusive conceptions of the Christian image, yet the conceptions of image in both cases are early modern in nature. Because so far, I have mainly focused on the Protestant 207 side, I will briefly mention four points which are typical for the conception of the Catholic Church from the Counter Reformation onwards. Unlike in Protestant circles, the Counter-Reformation actually promoted the making of religious images. It was recognized that the painting, through its vividness, had a great impact on the eye and thus on the mind of the viewer. Blunt describes how ‘Gilio da Fabriano and other writers consider it more important that the artist should represent the truth of his subject than its external and physical beauty. Therefore, in the representation of martyrdoms or of the sufferings of Christ and the saints, which are subjects capable of arousing piety, the artist must not turn the scene into one of calm, statuesque beauty with naked bodies in their physical perfection; he must on the contrary show the full grimness and horror of the scene. (...) If he wants to show a calmer beauty he must choose a calmer subject such as Baptism, or a more sublime theme like the Transfiguration. In these cases outward beauty is to be encouraged since it is appropriate’.1360 For this reason, the image (compared to the text) is given a privileged position in the spread of Christian doctrine in the Counter-Reformation, in contrast precisely to the Protestant view. ‘As soon, therefore, as the Roman Church gave up its attempt at compromising with the Protestants, and followed the course of strengthening traditional doctrines and methods in defiance of Luther and Calvin, it became necessary for theologians to underpin the foundations on which religious art was built, and to prove that, far from being idolatrous, sacred images were an incitement to piety and a means of salvation.’ 1361 Not for nothing do the Jesuits, ‘wel wetende hoe veel het zien voor het zeggen gaet’ [knowing full well how much seeing goes for saying], use images in the evocation of Christ’s suffering. Such images, more than the best sermon, awaken in the beholder a desire for more knowledge about Christianity.1362 The second point concerns the accuracy of the image.1363 In the third quarter of the 16th century, a number of tracts appear containing meticulous instructions. Christian images should adhere to the scenes and histories described in the Bible. They offer the painter the appropriate framework and gestures, the appropriate clothing and the right characters. The details could be found in the Scriptures: ‘Angels must have wings; saints must have haloes and their particular attributes, or if they are really obscure, it may even be necessary to write their names below them to avoid any confusion. If allegory is used it must be simple and intelligible’.1364 This point is therefore analogous to the early modern rule of the internal decorum that has already been discussed. If the painter adheres to this, it guarantees a suitable painting. The third rule is implied by this: inappropriate matters (such as mythological or also everyday aspects in so far as they are not mentioned in the Bible) must be eliminated from the imagination of biblical scenes.1365 Ignoring or exceeding the limits set by the Church – for example, by painting elements in a biblical scene that do not correspond to Scripture – is not so much considered inappropriate or contrary to the decorum, but is seen as heresy. 208 As in Michelangelo’s ‘Last Judgement’, heresy concerned the less than accurate following of biblical indications: he painted angels (without wings), some figures with flapping drapes ‘in spite of the fact that at the day of Judgement wind and storm will have ceased’.1366 Although the guidelines of the Counter Reformation were not applied particularly strictly,1367 they contributed to the new status of the image, as did Protestant views. Nevertheless, there are some important differences. Because great emphasis is placed on strict adherence to the biblical text in the making of Christian pictures, painting after nature takes on less significance. As Blunt points out, this containment had three consequences. First, after 1530, it led to a certain stagnation in the development of new types of findings. ‘Their work is largely controlled by the Church, and even when they are allowed a certain freedom, they seem to have lost their interest in what lies around them. Their preoccupation is no longer with the reconstruction of the visible universe, but with developing new methods of drawing and composition’.1368 Secondly, it brought about an intensification of attention for the pictorial plane. In this sense, the importance attached to the image and spiritual reference in the Middle Ages is being revived under new conditions.1369 Innovations occur not only in the compositional arrangement and the distribution of the bodies over the flat plane, but also in the technical sense of painting and in the biblical subjects one chooses. Thirdly, in the most extreme cases, i.e. where painters and priests worked together in establishing the religious program, this restriction led to a return to the mediaeval position of painting in which painting was placed in the service of religion. 1370 In spite of these differences, the similarities between the Protestant and Catholic views remain remarkable. It also applies to the complaint regarding offensive and titillating nudes. Vasari mentions a removal of Saint Sebastian from Fra Bartolommeo. This nude ‘had to be moved from a church because it had inspired impure thoughts in certain members of the congregation’.1371 On the Catholic side, Michelangelo’s ‘indecent’ nudes in the ‘Last Judgement’ were painted over and draped at different times and at the instigation of various Popes in order to prevent their complete destruction. 1372 But even a man like Erasmus expressed his rejection of the immorality of early modern painting. He wrote a ‘tirade against the artistic fashion of his time, which prescribed that even in the houses of God there were sensual representations of the lusts of the flesh, on the pretext that they served to illustrate the stories of the Bible, and to recall the penance that follows on from the sin depicted’.1373 Since the 1970s there has been a certain consensus in (art) historical studies that early modern images have a (disguised) sexual content and erotic charge, which may carry a deeper moral message. ‘One might even suspect that some of the themes were popular because of their erotic slant. Painters liked to use the stories of, for example, Lot, Bathsheba and Suzanna to portray the female nude’.1374 When a modern reviewer describes classicist paintings of high-minded mythological scenes in terms of sex, 209 it is hardly noticeable anymore: ‘And now, in the catalogue of the interesting exhibition Dutch Classicism, the monkey comes out of the sleeve: this is just seventeenth-century pornography. Of the civilized kind, yes, but still. The lady in question lies there quite defiantly and the little fellow on the left is a shepherd making an obscene gesture with his right hand’.1375 A steady stream of respectable art-historical publications has preceded this habituation to deepen a sexual meaning in early modern paintings. Some (male) art historians concentrate in their study on the eye seduced by the female nude. 1376 ‘Perhaps the somewhat titillating tension between sensual pleasure and “dangerous” seduction was one of the factors determining the appeal of many subjects’. This is how Sluijter explains the appeal of many ‘attractive-looking pictures of vices, amorous or erotic scenes’ appearing in the seventeenth century.1377 The wise, prestigious and civilized context in which the sexual images are embedded, as well as the suggestion that they have a morality lesson, justifies the art historical interest in the subject. ‘As with erotic genre pictures, one could have fun, and also show that one was aware of the wise lessons contained therein, and that one was therefore an erudite and civilized person’.1378 Other (female) art historians focus on the confusing relationship between art, morality and audience that takes shape in the early modern period. 1379 ‘Thus, during the same period, around 1525, when scholars and moralists were arguing for a respectful use of religious and classical sources, there were artists who let their sensual imaginations run wild when they portrayed edifying texts (which, on the contrary, were extremely discreet about physical and erotic details). This situation seems paradoxical to those interested in the Renaissance, and we can therefore imagine – although we are more driven by ironic surprise than by ethical motives – that the moralist Erasmus questioned the developments in art in his day’.1380 This modern paradox resembles the kind of short circuit that occurred in the early modern debate on religious paintings.1381 I will not deny the existence of titillating images, nor the fact that they are criticized by scholars and various religions. I am interested in the terms in which Erasmus, Calvin and others expressed their critical views. For these terms are very similar to the early modern concepts that circulate in the art of painting. Erasmus is certainly not alone in his point of view. Other famous Dutch writers like Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert, Johan van Beverwijck and Jacob Cats oppose the painted nude too. Most extreme is the point of view by the poet preacher Dirck Raphaelsz. Camphuysen, who is often quoted in art historical literature and who advocates the abolition of the art of painting.1382 Coornhert, Van Beverwijck and Cats do not question the lustfulness of the image, nor the natural act of sexual intercourse that can sprout from it, as one might think.1383 ‘Het byslapen in zich zelfs, gheschiedende na ‘tbehoren, is een natuyrlyck werck, gelyck hongherigh eten ende dorstigh drincken, ende mitsdien zo weynigh als deze wercken quaad of zonde’ [The intercourse itself, if it is done properly, is a natural 210 work, like hungry eating and thirsty drinking, and therefore is no more evil or sinful than these works], writes Coornhert for example.1384 Their rejection relates primarily to the misuse of such images. Given the passionate nature of youth in general and of men in particular – that is how Coornhert, Cats and Van Beverwijck reason – the unrestrained seeing of erotic images brings the man out of balance. Cats says, for example: Al wat het stoutpinceel uyt luchten hoofde treckt Heeft menigh oogh geterght, in menigh hert bevleckt. Een Loth, of Davids val ten nausten of te malen. Doet, ick en weet niet hoe, de losse sinnen dwalen; Een stier, een valsche swaen, die jonge maeghden schent, Heeft dickmael aen de jeught de lusten in-geprent.1385 [All that the mischievous brush draws from frivolous heads Has taunted many an eye, stained in many a heart. The painstaking painting of Loth or the fall of David Makes, I don't know how, the loose senses wander; A bull, a false swan, that violates young virgins, Has often imprinted on the youth the lust]. Van Hoogstraten too describes how paintings can make a young man’s head spin: ‘Een jongeling, zeytmen, wiert door ‘t zien van de Schilderyen, daer Ganimedes ontschaekt wiert, van d’onbeschaemde Nais, die Hylas troetelde, van Apollo en Hyacint, zoo ontroert, dat hy uitberste: Ten is geen dooling de Goden te volgen’ [A youth, it is said, was so moved at the sight of the Paintings, where Ganimedes was kidnapped, with the insolent Nais, whom Hylas coddled, from Apollo and Hyacinth, that he burst out, It is no mistake to follow the Gods].1386 Looking at ‘schilderijen van de naakte Venus’ [paintings of the naked Venus] in an untamed and lustful way is like immoderate gorging oneself on delicious food without hunger.1387 Such abuse is evil and sinful, because it delivers the man to his burning lusts and fierce cravings. A man who only thinks about sex (i.e. also at wrong moments) and only has an eye for lusty ladies, endangers his well-being (and that of others). Coornhert, pointing out the uselessness of such a man, describes the obsessional attention as follows: Der ghedachten molen drayt onophoudelyck. Werpt daar inne ghoede terwe, zy zal ghoed meel malen. Maar werpt ghy daer inne het kaf der schilderijen vande naackte Venus, wat magh zy anders malen dan vierighe onkuysheyd, brandende begheerten ende heete minne? Wederstaat haar beghinsel int wortelen, wildy niet dat die verderflycke vruchten in u herte wassen. Zetse uyt uwen zinnen, maackt verbond met uwen oghen ghedachten, dat zy op des 211 meyskens onschamelheyd niet en dencken. Wildy u niet branden, speelt niet met deze gloeyende kolen.1388 [The thought mill turns incessantly. Throw in good wheat there, and it will grind good flour. But cast into it the chaff of the paintings of the naked Venus, what else may she grind but fiery unchastity, burning desires and hot passions? Resist from the beginning that she takes root, if you do not want those pernicious fruits to grow in your heart. Put them out of your mind, make a covenant between your eyes and thoughts, that they do not think of the shameless girls. If you do not want to burn yourself, do not play with the glowing coals]. We find a train of thought consistent with this in Van Hoogstraten. He mentions two criteria that determine the ‘contextual’ appropriateness of a painting. 1389 These external criteria are independent of the previously discussed internal decorum with which a painted tableau must comply, but they do form a coherent whole. First of all, not everything that is true (or understood as such, like biblical histories or mythological narratives) is also appropriate to show in public. Similarly, according to Jacob Cats and Simon Stevin, inner dignity requires that, especially when it comes to meeting natural needs.1390 Van Hoogstraten gives some examples from Greek mythology to illustrate what it is better to leave invisible and unseen.1391 Medea did not kill her children in front of everyone, Atreus did not chop and cook in public the three sons he served Thyestes as a meal.1392 With the metamorphosis of Prokne into a bird, it is better to keep the transformation itself out of sight.1393 Just as it is wiser to leave unseen the abduction of the beautiful young Ganymede by Zeus, the tender embraces of Apollo with the son of the Spartan king Hyakinthos or the scene of Jupiter and Danaë..1394 It is more dignified, says Van Hoogstraten, to show Klitemnestra after she has already been murdered by her son Orestes, and also then only in a glimpse. It is also more appropriate to paint Orestes when he and Pylades take revenge on Aigisthos, his mother’s lover.1395 Alberti gives the same advice. Anyone who wants to paint a nude should know that ‘some embarrassment must always’ be added. ‘If it is allowed here, there ought to be some nude and others part nude and part clothed in the painting; but always make use of shame and modesty. The parts of the body ugly to see and in the same way others which give little pleasure should be covered with draperies, with a few fronds or the hand’, Alberti in turn advises.1396 Hideous parts should be pleated with drapery or covered with a hand. Van Hoogstraten sums it up in this way: Gy en moet in geen Schilderye brengen ‘t geene niet behoorlijk is gezien te worden; en veele zaken zult gy voor den oogen verbergen, die d’onmstandicheden genoeg zullen te kennen geeven. (...) Alwatge my zoo vertoont, dat haet ik, en ben schuw dat te zien. (...). Het 212 geene onstichtelijk is, behoort men te verbergen, de bescheydenheyt laet niet toe, de zonden ten voorbeelt te stellen: want den voorgang der ouden stelt den koers aen de jeugt.1397 [You must not bring into Paintings things that are not suitable to be seen; and many things you will keep hidden from the eyes, which will be sufficiently recognizable by the circumstances. (...) Everything you show me like this, I hate, and am averse from seeing. (...). What is not upbuilding, one should hide, wisdom does not allow one to make an example of sin: for the example of the old sets the direction for the young]. But there is a second criterion: not all tableaux that are true and worthy are suitable for all locations. As Vasari notes: ‘However, I would not have any believe that I approve of those figures that are painted in churches in a state of almost complete nudity, for in the cases it is seen that the painter has not shown the consideration that was due to the place’.1398 The painting should respect its surroundings, especially when it is public. ‘It is not wrong for the painter sometimes to produce such works for his own amusement (...) But in public (...) one must always behave with decency’.1399 Each public location demands its own kind of images. Therefore, a public market square requires sculptures of great orators and a sports venue sculptures of discus throwers or athletes, and not the other way around.1400 Therefore, sacred places require different images than profane places. Therefore, painted nudes are in their place in a brothel and not in the house of God where saints belong. 1401 This requirement of contextual decorum is, as said, underlined by both Catholics and Protestants. Thus the ‘theory of decorum’, which became more complex from the sixteenth century onwards, forms a set of rules in which not only the internal, but also the external appropriateness is addressed. ‘It demands that everything in a painting should be suitable both to the scene depicted and to the place for which it is painted. That is to say, the figures must be dressed suitably to their standing and character, their gestures must be appropriate, the setting must be rightly chosen, and the artist must always consider whether he is executing a work for a church or a palace, a State apartment or a private study’.1402 The contradictions observed by researchers and the hypocrisy they suspect in the early modern critique of offensive images thus stem mainly from modern ideas. There is nothing paradoxical in early modern terms about the fact that Van Beverwijck, for example, in his Schat der Gesontheyt [Treasure of Health] refers to the commotion that naked ladies cause in the male mind and the fact that at the same time he has a scene of the bathing Suzanna on the wall at home. 1403 Based on his medical knowledge, Van Beverwijck speaks about the mental balance that is disturbed by ‘amoureuze en lichtveerdige’ [amorous and frivolous] paintings. However, if such paintings are hung in public places – in churches, in inns and at markets – they are accessible to everyone. Also for the highly inflammable types 213 who cannot escape the temptations of the image and indulge in immoderate abuse.1404 Once again, Van Beverwijck’s warning applies not so much to the characteristics of this type of image, but to the (appropriate or inappropriate) environment and its (moderate or immoderate) use. For this reason, he considers it advisable to refrain from public visibility in the case of titillating scenes (even if they are true). With Erasmus, the various arguments recur in his criticism on certain painted tableaux: Wat afgebeeld wordt en voor iedereen zichtbaar gemaakt, is te schandelijk om bij name te worden genoemd (...) O, hoe worden deze dingen veronachtzaamd door de wetgevers en hun wetten! (...) Laten wij God danken, dat wij een geloof hebben dat van alle onreine en onkuise smetten vrij is. Des te dieper is de zonde van diegenen die aan onderwerpen die vanuit hun aard kuis zijn, een schaamteloze lading geven. Waarom is het nodig, elk verhaal in de kerken af te beelden? Een jongen en een meisje die in bed liggen? David die uit het raam naar Bathsheba kijkt en haar tot overspel verleidt? Dezelfde koning in een omhelzing met de Shunamitische vrouw? Of de dochter van Herodias, tijdens haar dans? Al deze onderwerpen zijn weliswaar ontleend aan de Heilige Schrift, maar wanneer ze de vrouw uitbeelden, hoeveel geraffineerde liederlijkheid wordt daarin dan niet door de schilders verwerkt?1405 [What is depicted and made visible to everyone is toodisgraceful to be mentioned by name (...) Oh, how are these things neglected by lawmakers and their laws! (...) Let us thank God that we have a faith that is free from all impure and unchaste blemishes. The deeper the sin of those who give blatant charge to subjects who are chaste by nature. Why is it necessary to depict every story in the churches? A boy and a girl lying in bed? David looking out the window at Bathsheba and seducing her into adultery? This same king in an embrace with the Shunamite woman? Or Herodias’ daughter, at her dance? All these subjects are admittedly derived from the Holy Scriptures, but when they depict the woman, how much refined debauchery is not incorporated therein by the painters?] Matters that ‘niet zeer fatsoenlijk geschieden’ [done improperly], things that are inappropriate, things that are better left unseen –these are all issues of ‘decorum’ that play an important role in early modern thinking about painting. It hardly seems a coincidence that this issue arises at a time when images, thanks to their reproducibility through the printing press, are entering the public domain massively and uncontrolled.1406 Prints and engravings circulate in large numbers and find their way to the public in a different way than written and printed texts. This emphatic attention to the context of images indicates that early modern authors of very different origins reflect on the changes that are taking place and their cultural effects. So, they are not just prudish moralists or moral crusaders. Their considerations relate to the question of how to guide the transformation from striking and sensual but invisible mental images for personal 214 use to visibly painted and publicly accessible images. These reflections are part of the process in which the image is given a different epistemological status. 215 4.2.4. From the Art of Painting to Theory of Art I want to finish with one last pressing matter. This concerns the now widely accepted idea of the intellectual elevation of the art of painting. Painting would have developed from practical craftsmanship to a liberal art, i.e. to a scientific theory. ‘In the meantime, this painterly elite had come to realize that there were sciences that a painter really ought to possess and that the average master painter did not have in his curriculum’.1407 A development that first occurred in Italy and later elsewhere in Europe. One does speak of a ‘need’ to become more theoretical, which occurred ‘suddenly’ at the beginning of the Renaissance. ‘It seems that’, Brenninckmeyer-de Rooij wrote in 1984, ‘when during the Renaissance the need was felt for a theoretical basis for painting, people turned to writings from antiquity in order to derive the necessary foundations from these established and recognized authors’.1408 Since the article by Renselaer Lee (1940), this elevation has usually been linked to Horace’s ‘ut pictura poesis’. This would prove that painting tried to be ‘like’ poetry. From that moment on there was a certain consensus that ‘the art of painting was to a large degree emancipated from a craft to one of the liberal arts’.1409 The central question is always: what significance does this elevation of painting have for the Dutch painting practice and in what form did it manifest itself? When, to what extent and in which circuits did Italian art theory make its appearance in Holland? Is the Dutch painter to be understood as an educated and exempt man, who works according to scientific rules and high humanistic values? Or should we see him as a craftsman who in Holland is still subject to the guild system for a long time, bound to traditional techniques and has a predilection for the visible world?1410 Or does the Dutch painter, precisely because of his traditional painting practice, find a faster connection with the natural scientific development that manifested itself in Europe at the beginning of the seventeenth century? In short, the question is: how should Dutch painting be interpreted in comparison with the Italian situation, where art theory and practice from the Renaissance onwards are largely parallel? Are we dealing with minor differences in early modern Europa or are we standing eye to eye with gigantic conceptual gaps? This kind of issue has been a regular ingredient of art history for several decades. However, there is still no clear understanding of European relations during the early modern period.1411 In general, the confusingly complex issue is ‘resolved’ with a chronological treatment of Italian Renaissance painting (informed by humanist art theory) and Dutch realistic art (without theory). ‘Die reine Empirie, ohne jede Kultivierung, das heißt ohne Theoriebildung oder Stilierung, ist eher niederländisch als italienisch. In Italien schatte man also auch weniger auf die lebendige Sachen als auf die Kunstwerke, die die Antiken hinterlassen hatten’ [The pure empiricism, without any cultivation, that is, without 216 the formation of theory or stylization, is more Dutch than Italian. In Italy, therefore, one looked less at the living things than at the works of art that the ancients had left behind].1412 Due to an inwardly motivated, intellectual progress and a geographical dissemination, Italian art theory would also have arrived in Holland in the course of the seventeenth century. 1413 This interpretation presupposes a number of contradictions: Italy opposes Holland, theory opposes practice, liberal art opposes practical craftsmanship, the court painter opposes the craftsman. Painting as an elite pastime of an exempt man versus working for a living through manual labor. The ideal reality differs from everyday realism, the theatrical idealism differs from engineering observation, the high-minded academy of scholars distinguishes itself from both the artists’ guild and the natural scientists.1414 The question is how these contrasting interpretations relate to each other. Has not the emancipation of medieval craft into a humanistic academy of learned painters been overemphasized in art history? 1415 Are not the sharp contrasts largely due to an unclear use of terms? Is it (wrongly) assumed that certain concepts are synonymous? What does one understand by ‘the’ Italian theory of art? Does it begin with Alberti’s rhetorically constructed work on the art of painting, with Da Vinci’s mathematical defense of art science, or with Vasari’s artist biographies?1416 Does ‘humanist’ art theory coincide with ‘classicist’ art theory, does the former culminate in the latter, or are the connections entirely different? How do the ‘ars liberalis’ (‘vrye const’ or science) and the ‘ars mechanica’ (to which painting belonged in the ancient period) relate to each other? As ‘theory’ and ‘practice’ of painting? 1417 What, then, does the term ‘art theory’, ‘theory of art’ or the formulation ‘the science of art’ mean in that context? 1418 Is there actually an Italian art theory? How does ‘schilderkunst’ [painting] differ from ‘de const van het schilderen’ [the art of painting]? All of these questions are relevant when trying to name the differences and similarities in early modern Europe. In the particularly voluminous literature that has recently appeared on this topic, one searches in vain for a systematic treatment of these issues. Instead, a myth has been produced that is still expanding. There appear to be contradictory variants conceivable that remain within the mythological boundaries and are absorbed by the myth. For example, it has long been assumed that ‘the evolution from art as craft to art as “art” occurred in one fell swoop during the Renaissance’.1419 In the mid-1960s, Emmens put forward the thesis that ‘at least north of the Alps, but probably still in Italy, the idea that art was handicraft remained widely held until around 1800’, but that there was a pre-classicist conception of art. 1420 Thus, Miedema argues that there was no Italian art theory, because there is no theory until the classicist art theory,1421 De Vries claims a continuity in Holland of the ‘classicist’ art theory from Van Mander to De Lairesse,1422 while Boschloo defends the ‘realism’ of the Italian painter Annibale Carracci. 1423 An analysis of this particular mythology actually 217 requires a separate research. In the following, I would like to make a proposal about the transformation that might have taken place in Europe in early modern painting. Whether this proposal is a fruitful starting point for further research, will be revealed in the future. Instead of one big step from ‘practice’ to ‘science’, early modern writings give rise to a different, less ‘revolutionary’ interpretation. If we stick to the terminology provided in the various discourses, there is not so much one gigantic step forward, but a gradual shift in (at least) two smaller steps. In the medieval local guild system, training as a painter is a practical and individual matter that follows a step-by-step system.1424 The apprenticeship in the workshop takes place between master and pupil and is crowned by the ‘meesterproef’ [master’s proof]. At the beginning of the early modern period this oral and manual step-by-step system evaluates into an into words articulated knowledge system. The knowledge and skills of painting that have been transferred by ‘words and gestures’ are ‘brought into concept’ [op begrip gebracht]. The main difference between these two ‘knowledge systems’ is that the second is ordered according to classical methods. In the absence of an antique art of painting, one derives the ordering method from other domains. Alberti arranges the rules of the art of painting into a Latin ‘ars’ [Greek ‘techne’] using the rhetoric, Da Vinci uses the mathematical method of definitions, postulates and proofs, Van Mander combines a rhetorical structure with poetic tools and Van Hoogstraten classifies his work by means of the nine muses. The diverse information about painting that was present until the early modern period is, in one way or another, transformed into structured knowledge using a variety of formal structures from ancient thought. In the same way as Simon Stevin, Van Hoogstraten demarcates ‘const’, ‘kunst’ [art] as a learning system of writing elaborate ‘histories on painting’ surrounded by all sorts of juicy details. But like Jacob Cats, Van Hoogstraten points out that histories can be more direct than the system of rules.1425 So, the ‘ars’ or ‘const’ is nothing more or less than a formal arrangement of discrete fundamental principles (what we understand as ‘theory’). Early modern painting - following classical thinking – lacks the modern hierarchical distinction between theory and practice.1426 This was also the case in Stevin’s art of building [Chapter 2]. Innate talent in the student and training in the material offered are presupposed in the art as a learning system. The goal in the ‘art of painting’ remains the same as before: learning to paint according to the rules. What changes is the range of knowledge. Once again, the knowledge of the art of painting (and of the art of building) is becoming ‘international’, accessible in all corners of early modern Europe. Distribution is no longer oral and through traveling individuals (as in the late Gothic), but discursive, through the printed book and trade networks. The concepts of this knowledge system include terms such as appropriate beauty, movement, drawing, color, distance, harmony, flat planes and fields, light, lines and shadow. These concepts form a network that can be found not only in 218 Alberti’s writings (in Latin and Italian) or in Vasari and various other 16thcentury writings by Italian authors.1427 The same applies to the differences in emphasis that persist. For example, Blunt points out that Vasari places a different emphasis than Alberti. Both put the selection from Nature first, but there are differences in the principles from which they choose.1428 The same applies to seventeenth-century Dutch authors such as Van Mander, Angel, Goeree and Van Hoogstraten. Despite the different views, other accents, the distinction in formal structure of their treatises, and the vehement disagreements about ‘disegno’ and ‘colore’, about the relationship between eye, mind, and hand to which all this gives rise – resulting in a different balance in each argument – all these authors use similar terms, related concepts, and thus think in the same conceptual universe. In other words, they can disagree with each other, debate with each other, because they share unquestioned assumptions with each other.1429 This common conceptual foundation allows the (art) historian to compare different opinions and disparate explanations and determine their mutual weight. So, there appears to be a shared endeavor to formulate ‘the rules of the art of painting’, to look for the right way of depicting when making paintings (and they do so in a way that is not based on the modern concept of art).1430 Founding a separate institution such as the ‘academy’ or the ‘hoge school’ instead of the master’s individual and local workshop resulted from the appearance of an ordered and written learning system. Although Plato was the first to establish an a Academy, the learning system formulated in the early modern era has little to do with his idealism, as is thought when one speaks of the ‘Neoplatonist academy’.1431 ‘Nowadays we are accustomed to using the word “Academy” in a pejorative sense, as the qualification of work that is willfully and artificial, work that we call “manufactured work” as opposed to the work of the “born” artist. However, this contrast between the natural talent of the artist and the often as unnatural perceived education is relatively modern. The 17th century man was convinced that someone had to be gifted by nature in order to become an artist, but he would have found it very odd if this giftedness had been allowed to develop freely; according to them, an education was always needed in order to become an artist. “Academic” therefore meant something quite different in the 17th century than it does today. It meant envisioning a revolution in traditional instruction’.1432 Thus, in early modern Europe, the research of how to paint tableaux in a credible way is the common denominator. This culminates on the one hand in knowledge about the eye-catching qualities of paintings, in the observation of Nature (ranging from landscape and portrait to substances and bodies) and the pursuit of following Nature (naturalism).1433 On the other hand, in knowledge of how the narrative-semantic relationships inherent in mythologies or biblical stories can be appropriately plotted on the flat plane. ‘Disegno’ and ‘colore’, according to Alpers, are the two poles explored in early modern tableau. 219 Sometimes in an extreme sense, such as when in Dutch paintings the narrativesemantic aspect is pushed into the background in favor of the paint and the mimetic qualities (without generating otherwise meaningless depictions).1434 Sometimes the balance is in favor of the narrative and the imitative factors only serve that purpose, as in the case of Poussin, for example. 1435 But the discursive bond between ‘disegno’ and ‘colore’ is not yet broken; that will only happen in the nineteenth century.1436 The ancient knowledge of naturalistic painting serves as a point of reference in early modern times.1437 Michelangelo’s anatomical examination of corpses or his analysis of antique sculptures of nudes is just as much part of this as the study of the fabric expression of velvet, the depiction of emotions in the face, the reflections of light on foliage or the color intensities in a field of flowers. 1438 Rather, the wedge Michelangelo attempts to drive between Italian fresco painting (‘men’s work’) and Flemish oil painting (‘women’s work’) confirms how precarious and minimal the differences within the early modern art of painting in Europe actually are. Especially when we know that Michelangelo himself is attacked in Italy on his one-sided orientation towards drawing nudes, that he is suspected of heresy (because of his theological inaccuracy) and that his work at the Sistine Chapel escapes destruction several times. 1439 Although there is indeed a difference in effort between painting fresco and oil paint (in addition to a difference in climate which makes fresco in the northern areas not adhere), Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten simply adopt the core of his statement:1440 Om eerlijk te zijn schildert men in Vlaanderen om de naar buiten gerichte blik te bedriegen, hetzij door taferelen af te beelden die aangenaam voor het oog zijn, hetzij door onderwerpen te kiezen waar niets kwaads over te zeggen valt, zoals heiligen of profeten. Op hun tableaus is het een en al wasgoed, bouwvallen, groene velden, schaduwen van bomen, rivieren en bruggen, die zij landschappen noemen, en hier een hele drom figuren en daar een hele troep figuren. En dit alles, hoewel sommige mensen het mooi schijnen te vinden, is in werkelijkheid zonder nadenken en kunstzin, zonder gevoel voor symmetrie en verhouding, zonder criterium en speelsheid, kortom, zonder enige substantie en kracht gedaan.1441 [To be fair, people in Flanders paint to deceive the outward gaze, either by depicting scenes that are pleasing to the eye or by choosing subjects about which there is nothing evil to say, such as saints or prophets. On their tableaux, it's all laundry, ruins, green meadows, shadows of trees, rivers and bridges, which they call landscapes, and here a whole crowd of figures and there a whole troop of figures. And all this, though some people seem to think it beautiful, is in reality without thought and sense of art, without sense of symmetry and proportion, without criterion and playfulness, in short, without any substance and strength done]. 220 The fierce criticism by Van Mander, Lampsonius, Ortelius and other Flemish authors on Vasari’s exclusive Italian Lives points in the same direction. Vasari applauds Italian painters in terms that apply equally to paintings from other European regions, but without mentioning them by name. 1442 The exchange of letters in which the Flemish people try to bring this point to the attention of Vasari initially remains unsuccessful. ‘Lampsonius’ letters to Vasari typify the Netherlandish response to the Vite: simultaneously laudatory and adversarial, they approve the book’s historiographical method, while disputing its critical scope and censuring its disregard for the northern masters’, according to Melion. It is only in the second edition that Vasari pays attention to Flemish painters. 1443 Van Hoogstraten also points out several times that the debate between Michelangelo and Titian about the primacy of ‘disegno’ and ‘colore’ creates contradictions where it only concerns different paths in the same field of knowledge. He therefore considers it unwise to present himself as a judge.1444 The intensive exchange between Flemish, Dutch and Italian artists and writers in the early modern period only confirms how close they were in conceptual terms. 1445 Although ‘writing down’ and ‘to put into paint’ are different ways of practicing the art of painting, they remain related in their purpose: they strive to follow and display the visible nature.1446 Both ways (‘disegno’ and ‘colore’) are part of the early modern reflection that takes place within the natural order in which both are conceived as constituent parts of the art of painting. In the words of Da Vinci: Als de schilders haar niet beschreven en tot wetenschap herleid hebben, ligt dat niet aan de schilderkunst en is ze daarom niet minder edel. Weinig schilders maken van de letteren hun beroep, omdat hun leven niet volstaat om die aan te leren. Zullen we daarom moeten zeggen dat de eigenschappen van kruiden, stenen en planten niet bestaan, omdat de mensen ze niet hebben leren kennen? Zeker niet, maar wel zullen we zeggen dat deze kruiden op zichzelf edel blijven, zonder de hulp van menselijke talen of letteren.1447 [If the painters did not describe her and transform her into a science, this is not due to the art of painting and therefore she is no less noble. Few painters make the writing their profession, because their lives are not sufficient to acquire this. Shall we therefore have to say that the properties of herbs, stones and plants do not exist, because people have not come to know them? Certainly not, but we will say that these herbs remain noble in themselves, without the aid of human languages or writings]. It cannot be denied that there are regional differences in Europe. It is true that in the early modern period occult, symbolic and platonic tendencies also played a role, especially in Italy. They are an inherent part of the early modern conceptual universe. But they are – contrary to what Panofsky once suggested – certainly not the only (‘idealistic’) conception of the art of painting in this period. Both Alberti and Da Vinci had little sympathy for the mystical neoplatonism of Ficino and 221 Pico.1448 It is true that there are local accents in the choice of living and inanimate beings from the visible Nature. Judging from what current art history has ordered in terms of pictorial archives, Italian artists aspired to paint mainly beautiful nudes, while Dutch painters portrayed ‘everything’ of Nature. Both claims – as the actual image archive shows – have proven to be too rigid.1449 In both regions, attention was focused on the acquisition of knowledge of Nature – where materiality can range from fleshy parts to inanimate matter. But in principle painters all over Europe worked in the same field of possibilities and interests. Instead of assuming incomparable differences and mutually exclusive modes, it would be more fruitful to analyze cultural products comparatively as variants, selections, condensations or shiftings that are – even if implicitly – interrelated and share a conceptual common ground (bp.4.154, bp.4.155). The second step in the process again manifests itself in a rather minor shift, which eventually leads to ‘classicism’. In doing so, many early modern concepts were maintained. Terms such as talent, the rules of the art of painting and practice remain recognizable in the classicist program, as do drawing (‘disegno’) and color (‘colore’), appropriateness and beauty, movements and passions, good and bad paintings, literary inventions, appealing to the viewer, harmony, grace, proportions and the mathematical rules, and so on.1450 Panofsky pointed out that the classicist program is a change of the preceding structure in thinking about painting. On the one hand, the classicist program turns away from the natural order to which everything in the art of painting was subject (the ‘early and high Renaissance’). On the other hand, classicism turns its back on the constant shifting and stretching of the rules of the art of painting as it occurs in the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, in which not only colors and bodies, but also proportions and composition are pushed to their limits (Mannerism).1451 This shift occurs on three points. First of all, the relationship between the concepts mentioned changes. The early modern harmonious juxtaposition is replaced by a hierarchical-normative system of concepts. Natural talent, for example, comes at odds with rational rules. Although giftedness is still mentioned, its importance has diminished; talent is supplanted by the increased importance of the exercise. Becoming an artist in the eighteenth century is first and foremost a matter of following rules, not of any inborn ability: ‘anyone can paint’. The question of innate talent, however, does not disappear, but reappears later, namely in the more individualized form of the nineteenth-century ‘genius’. However, the Genius can only manifest himself by breaking the rules (and freeing himself from them).1452 Second, the purpose of the learning system also changes. That goal is no longer to learn to paint the visible Nature according to the rules of art in order to acquire true knowledge about it (in which both beautiful and ugly parts of nature are harmoniously arranged). The new classicist-idealist program is primarily concerned with the good painting and the good representation of a literary 222 invention. The new goal of painting becomes to depict the ideal Beauty and the Ideal nature. During this period, aesthetics appears as a new and independent branch of philosophy.1453 In other words: the purpose of painting becomes detached from the pigments and the skills of the painter. Being able to paint is no more than a ‘technical’ condition to achieve Beauty. There are now, for the first time in a moral sense, good and bad paintings in a way that did not exist before. Good art ‘was governed by rational rules, characterized by the imitation of antique sculpture, by ideal beauty, decorum, probability and loftiness, as well as the correct rendering of movement and emotions. Probability demanded a convincing form of illusionism, the strict adherence to the unity of time and the avoidance of a personal handwriting or a recognizable style in coloring. Good art had to have a morally uplifting effect on its beholders and, since it had to be lofty and impressive, its subjects should be of the highest order’. As a logical consequence, given this new framework, Dutch art then appears retrospectively as bad art.1454 So, the painting changes from an end (generating true knowledge of Nature on the flat plane) into a means to something else (a representation of Ideal Beauty, which becomes a vehicle to circulate meaningful abstractions). Thirdly, there is a moral hierarchy of ‘subjects’: the classic distinction made in rhetoric between ‘genres’ with a low, middle and high status, where the style must be appropriate in view of the subject being dealt with, now takes on a judgmental character. While in the early modern period the painter can paint everything from the visible Nature, adhering to the decorum that a subject demands, in the classicist program he becomes an artist who strives only to produce idealized, superior history paintings and thus renounces inferior, everyday subjects.1455 Emmens pointed out that De Lairesse’s rhetorical division takes on a socio-political connotation: ‘with him it has become a distinction between vulgar, bourgeois and courtly’.1456 Moreover, the art (ars or science, knowledge system) of painting makes way for a rationalist theory about Art (i.e. about ideal Beauty). Incidentally, the natural order has been replaced by a political order in which ‘Nature’ in its idealized form is made politically representative. 1457 These three small shifts appear to have major consequences: the ‘art’ of painting has been transformed into an ‘art theory’, a term that would have been nonsensical as well as anachronistic in the early modern era.1458 This last shift is not taking place in Italy or Holland, but in France. Paris had been a transshipment point and center of cultural exchange between Italian and Dutch painters, engineers, and scientists for centuries, but itself produced few noteworthy writings on painting (and architecture).1459 From the middle of the seventeenth century, with Louis XIV, Paris turned in on itself and made itself the center of attention for over a century. Out of rivalry with Italy and the academies founded there, its own ‘Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture’ was established. The goal of painting becomes the idealization of le Roi Soleil.1460 Absolutist not only in the political sense, but also in the fields of knowing. Fine Arts and Sciences become 223 separated and are assigned their own domains. 1461 It is only through this split, in which ‘art’ is no longer a knowledge system (a science), that a theory (or science) of art can emerge, of which ‘Beauty’ is then the very object. Goldstein summarizes the premises of French classicist-idealist theory as follows: ‘Art is an ideal imitation of nature, based on judicious observation. Imperfect nature is to be corrected according to a standard derived from ancient sculptures and the works of Raphael. The pitfalls for artists are, on the one hand, mannerism, which is divorced from nature, and Naturalism, which accepts imperfect nature’.1462 In this way absolutist politics appropriates cultural products as a propaganda tool of the sovereign.1463 Seen in this light, Emmens (1964) was both right and wrong. He was right in his analysis of ‘art or ‘ars’ as it was present in the Dutch seventeenth century and distinguished itself from the differently organized classicist-idealist ‘theory of art’ dating from the late seventeenth century. But he was also wrong, taking the opposition created by Vasari and Michelangelo between the Italian and FlemishDutch painters as truth and then elaborating on it. The concept of the art of painting in the early modern period does not change from pre-classicist to classicist, as Emmens argues, but changes from an knowledge system in which a balance is striven for between innate talent, an instructive system of rules and continuous practice (as in rhetoric), to a hierarchical view in which learned theory has primacy, ‘drawing as the incarnation of the Idea is superior to painting’.1464 Beauty becomes the goal of Art and practice is conceived as a supplying technical skill. The genealogy that can be traced – also in Emmens’ work – is not that between (unlearned) craftsmen and learned painters and not that between Italy and the Netherlands. However, the genealogy shows that there was an art of painting that was practiced in most European regions during the early modern period – albeit with various emphases regionally. In a classical way authors try to find a golden mean between ingenium and studium (in which theory and practice were united) in the sense of Horace, Aristotle and Cicero. 1465 Treatises by Cennini, Alberti, and Da Vinci, as well as those by Van Mander, Angel, and Van Hoogstraten demonstrate this. Even from the work by Junius (1637) this classical view of the art of painting can be distilled.1466 In French classicist art theory – referred to by Emmens as a ‘dogmatic version of the Italian one’1467 – this balance is broken. From this point of view, seventeenth-century Dutch painting is then conceived, retroactively, as without theory, unregulated, and as a traditional craft, while the Italian treatises are regarded as precursors to the later classicist theory of art.1468 Such a gradual and phased transformation process can only be traced through a systematic and detailed reading of the historical sources. It is not enough to refer only to some loose fragments and use this selective collection to support the idea of an accumulative progress in painting.1469 The appearance of French classicist 224 art theory is then seen as a logical completion of Italian humanist art theory. In this sense, what has been discussed above is only a fraction of what could be explored in the aforementioned early modern writings on the art of painting. More research is therefore desirable. Nor can one detect the diachrony by following the dictate of the chronology. One is not a historian as a matter of course if, as Miedema says, one simply stays close to the historical facts.1470 The historical formalist analysis, resulting in a threefold evolution in shape of the knowledge system of the art of painting in early modern culture, can sharpen some issues and point in a certain direction. It may make clear that although the set of concepts remains broadly the same in Europe for several centuries, the emphasis is not the same in all locations and in all periods. There are regional and temporal differences in emphasis and even contradictions. But although the contradictions are sometimes considerable, in the early modern era there is a collective universe. Differences in socio-cultural structures between the Italian city-states and the Netherlands underscore that it may not be a matter of artistic incomparability, but rather of external strategies and cultural politics. That in the early modern period differences between Italy and the Netherlands are magnified in Italy and diminished in the Netherlands by authors such as Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten may have less to do with the art of painting than with other matters, such as power relations in politics and socio-economic circuits.1471 It was not until the nineteenth century that a shift occurred which closed the debate with early modern writings, simply because the discourses within which people think about painting have changed. Discourses in which existing concepts are rearranged, new terms are created, and new connections between these concepts are established. 1472 ‘Genius, imagination, love, poetic power, such qualities concern the inner self of the artist, which, sometime in the 19th century, begins to penetrate the world of objects in order to induce them to rise’.1473 The meaning of old terms changes, different questions are asked, and a new conceptual foundation is formed. The psychosocial network with the person of the artist as its center and art as its expression is of a different order than the early modern network of variety in Nature.1474 By inflating the early modern natural order as a self-evident conceptual universe in which everything has its place, nature is being invented in the 19th century as a distinct but highly valued domain within the Arts. Nature then makes its entrance into all kinds of parts of culture: economics, science, politics and everyday life. But above all, nature enters man and his psychological life. Aesthetics emerges as a theory in which perception, sensation, feeling and the subjective experience of beauty are brought under one denominator.1475 ‘Aesthetics deals with the question of the cause, the nature and the functioning of the Beautiful (...). Since Kant, aesthetics focuses on the judgements of the viewer. Beautiful and ugly are not properties of things themselves in relation to a well-defined canon of rules and regulations, but categories of judgment that are embedded in human thought’.1476 Many of the 225 early modern elements are thus still recognizable, but the formation in which they had their place was folded inside out, placed under a new omen and producing new meanings. Both universes have become incompatible. It is also the period in which classicist-idealistic ‘salon Art’ makes way for Realism in the painting of Millet, Courbet and Manet, Impressionism and Modern Art. ‘The artist is since [Courbet] operating alone or within a small circle of friends, not supported by tradition, but by a certain idea of modernity and of the art of the future’.1477 But the concept of representation has also taken on a different form. ‘From representation as we have seen it in the seventeenth century, we finally reach the point where to represent is itself acknowledged as the making of an artifice. Realism turns into artifice – and so goes the course of art into modernism where paint, not man, is the reality represented’.1478 At the same time, art history appears as a academic discipline, taking over some concepts from the declining classicist-idealist art theory. The inventory research in the archives begins, a hierarchy of masterpieces is established and by means of a Darwinian stylistic history the past is rearranged. 1479 In the case of Van Mander, Melion answers the question why the early modern art of painting (and thus also the painted tableaux) disappeared from the art historical view: ‘I would answer that the premises of the art-historical field militate against him’.1480 In the nineteenth century, paint and the visible Nature, the rules and norm, history and the Fine Arts came to an agreement that, except in a superficial way, had little in common with early modern ‘art of painting’. 226 COMPARATIVE RESEARCH EARLY MODERN ARTS [translated] dr. Heidi de Mare 2021 • • 2018 • 2017 • 2016 • 2012 • 2009 • ‘Simon Stevin and the Liberated House’, Chapter 1.1.1. + Chapter 2, cum laude Dissertation 2003. PDF Pieter de Hooch and the Chamber Scape, Chapter 1.1.3 + Chapter 4, cum laude Dissertation 2003, online April 2021. ‘’t Is kunst te leven. Vroegmoderne verbeelding van duurzaam samenleven’, in: G. van den Brink (red.), Waartoe is Nederland op aarde? (Boom): 117-142. PDF + Beeldkatern PDF ‘“The Art of Living Well”. Early Modern Imagination of Living in a Tenable Way’ (2019). PDF + PDF Images ‘Het beeld als bron. Een beschouwing naar aanleiding van recent onderzoek naar Het straatje van Vermeer’, in: Tijdschrift voor historische geografie, no. 4 (2017): 248-259. PDF ‘The Image as historical source. Contemplation in response to recent research on The Little Street by Vermeer’ (2019). PDF Review. The Technical Image. A History of Styles in Scientific Imagery, H. Bredekamp et al. (eds.), The University of Chicago Press 2015, in: The Journal of Design History, N.Y.: 93-95. PDF ‘Vindplaats van het huiselijk leven. Het kamergezicht in de Hollandse Gouden Eeuw’, in: Historisch Tijdschrift Holland, Jaargang 44, no. 3, themanummer ‘Huiselijkheid’: 110-118. ‘The Finding Place of Domestic Life. The Chamber Scape in Dutch Golden Age’ (2018). PDF ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. De kunst van interdisciplinair onderzoek’, in: Kunstlicht, ‘Kunstgeschiedenis & Interdisciplinariteit’, vol. 30, no. 3-4: 90-99. PDF ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. The Art of Interdisciplinary Research’ (2009) PDF 2007 • 1999 • ‘Johannes Vermeer: migratie van een icoon’ in: J. van Eijnatten et al. (red.), Heiligen of helden. Opstellen voor Willem Frijhoff, Amsterdam: 198-214. PDF ‘Johannes Vermeer: migration of an icon’ (2009) PDF ‘Domesticity in Dispute: A Reconsideration of Sources’, in: I. Cieraad (red.), At Home. Anthropology of Domestic Space (2nd edition 2006). New York: 13-30 PDF. 1994 • 1993 • ‘A rule worth following in architecture? The significance of gender in Simon Stevin’s architectural knowledge system (1548-1620)’, in: E. Kloek et al. (red.), Women of the Golden Age. Hilversum: 103-120. PDF Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands. Historical contrasts in the use of public space, architecture and the urban environment. Volume, with A. Vos (Van Gorcum Assen), met bijdragen van P. Burke, R. Ingersoll, A. Blok, W. Frijhoff, K. Wuertz, F. Bollerey & A. Reijndorp 227 1993 • • ‘The Domestic Boundary as Ritual Area in Seventeenth-Century Holland’, in: H. de Mare and A. Vos (eds.), Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands. Van Gorcum Assen: 108-131. PDF. ‘Die Grenze des Hauses als ritueller Ort und ihr Bezug zur holländischen Hausfrau des 17. Jahrhunderts’, in: Kritische Berichte. Zeitschrift für Kunst- und Kulturwissenschaften, 4 (1992): 64-79. PDF ‘Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands’, with A. Vos, in: H. de Mare and A. Vos (eds.), Urban Rituals in Italy and the Netherlands, Van Gorcum: 5-25. PDF COMPARATIVE RESEARCH – IMAGE, ART & VISUAL CULTURE [translated] 2021 • 2020 • • • 2019 • • • • 2018 • 2016 • • 2015 • Plato and the Dutch Art and Architectural history, Chaper 5.2.4, cum laude Dissertation 2003.PDF ‘The Dutch art historians Van de Waal and Emmens’, translation Chapter 5.2.3. cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF ‘Introduction’, translation Chapter Chapter 1.1., cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF ‘Methodology’, translation Chapter 1.2, cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF ‘Image, Art & Visual Culture, a TRIPTYCH’ – an epistemological program’. PDF ‘Art history according to Panofsky, Wittkower and Gombrich’, translation Chapter 5.2.2, cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF ‘Aby Warburg and cultural history as scholarly field of study’, translation Chapter 5.2.1., cum laude dissertation 2003. PDF ‘#MeToo, Representation & the Cleansing of the Image. The Role of Gender Studies in Media, Art and Culture’, Stichting IVMV. PDF Review. Darren Kelsey (2015), Media, Myth and Terrorism. A DiscourseMythological Analysis of the ‘Blitz Spirit’ in British newspaper responses to the July 7th bombings. Palgrave, Macmillan, in: Journal of Language and Politics, [JLP 17:5] by Bischof, Karin and Cornelia Ilie (eds., Democracy and Discriminatory Strategies in Parliamentary Discourse: 699-703. PDF ‘Carnaty or the difficulty of flesh color’ [2020] PDF, blog stichting IVMV (05.12.2016) ‘Moral imagination at work’, with K. Woets, in: G. van den Brink (ed.), Moral Sentiments in Modern Society. A New Answer to Classical Questions. AUP: 257287. ‘Laura Mulvey’s Legacy – Scary Movie-Scholars?!’. Review L. Mulvey c.s. (eds.), Feminisms. Diversity, Difference, and Multiplicity in Contemporary Film Cultures (AUP 2015), in: IVMV-online magazine 2015|3. PDF 228 • 2013 • • 2012 • • ‘Salient Silence. Some Principles of the Visual Formation in CRASH (2004)’, in: F.L. Bakker et al. (eds.), Blessed are the Eyes that Catch Divine Whispering… Silence in Religie and Film. Film und Theologie, Band 28. Marburg Schürer Verlag: 21-35. PDF ‘Schiphol as a Holland Airport in the Press Photography of the Netherlands’ (2013), in: M. Berkers et al., Megastructure Schiphol (NAi): 286-297. PDF Police in Fiction: in the Spirit of the Law, Lecture, Annual Conference of The European Police Research Institutes Collaboration (EPIC), Tampere (Finland) PDF ‘Een afzichtelijk schepsel? Frankenstein en de waarde van de natuurlijke geboorte’, in: A. Oderwald e.a. (red.), Nieuw leven. Geboorte in fictie (Literatuur & geneeskunde, De Tijdstroom Utrecht): 61-70. PDF ‘A Hideous Creature? Frankenstein and the Value of Natural Birth’ (2018). PDF. ‘Moments of Transcendence in A.I. (Spielberg 2001). The Moving Image and the Power of the Human Imagination’, in: W. Stoker & W. van der Merwe (eds.), Looking Beyond: Shifting Views of Transcendence in Philosophy, Theology, Art, and Politiek. Editions Rodopi Amsterdam: 447-470. PDF 2010 • • • 2009 • ‘Contemplation on Visual Culture, a Triptych. 1. Deconstruction of the Academic Phenomenon of Cultural Studies’ (2019). PDF ‘From Goya to Afghanistan. An essay on the ratio and ethics of medical war pictures’, met L. van Bergen (VUmc) & F. J. Meijman (VUmc), in: Medicine, Conflict & Survival, vol. 26, no. 2: 124-144. PDF ‘De lakmoesproef van de moderne beschaving. Goed en Kwaad in virusfilms’, met G. Keyser, in: A. Oderwald et al. (red.), Besmet (Literatuur & geneeskunde, De Tijdstroom Utrecht): 99-108. PDF. ‘Good and Evil in Virus Films. The Litmus Test of Modern Civilization’ (2020). PDF. ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. De kunst van interdisciplinair onderzoek’, in: Kunstlicht, Jubileumnummer ‘Kunstgeschiedenis & Interdisciplinariteit’, vol. 30, no. 3-4: 9099. PDF ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. The Art of Interdisciplinary Research’ (2009) PDF 2005 • ‘Documentary in Dispute. A Reconsideration of Premises’, Paper, Berlin Conference: Capturing the … Truth? PDF 1999 • 1986 • ‘Gedisciplineerd kijken. Van kunstgeschiedenis naar historisch formalisme’, in: Kunstlicht, ‘De toekomst van kunstgeschiedenis’, vol. 20, no. 3-4: 14-20. PDF ‘A Disciplined Eye. From Art History to Historical Formalism’ (2019). ‘Mulvey’s eendimensionale systeem. Bij dezen dan voor het laatst “Visual Pleasure”’, in: Versus, no. 2 (1986): 35-54 PDF. ‘Mulvey’s One-Dimensional System. A Last Look at “Visual Pleasure”’, (2015), in: IVMV-online magazine 2015|3. PDF. 229 COMPLETE BIBLIOGRAPHY cum laude Dissertation 2003 [including SUMMARY]: PDF References Chapter 4, a selection Sources Chapter 4 Alberti, L.B., De Pictura. 1435, Della Pittura. 1436 [see J.R. Spencer 1966; C. van Eck & R. Zwijnenberg 1996]. Angel, P., Lof der Schilder-Konst 1642. Facsimile Amsterdam 1972. Biens, C. Pz., De Teecken-Const: ofte Een korte ende klaere aen-leydinghe tot die lofelijcke Const van Teeckenen tot Dienst ende behulp van de eerstbeghinnende Jeucht ende liefhebbers, in Elf Capittelen vervat 1636 [see E.A. de Klerk 1982]. Castiglione, B., Il libro del Cortegiano 1508-1518. Cats, J., Alle de wercken I en II 1655 (refered to as ADW I and II). Facsimile Amsterdam 1712 en 1978. Cats, J., Sinne- en Minnebeelden 1618-1627, in: ADW I, pp. 1-106. Cats, J., Houwelick, dat is, Het gansche Beleyt des Echten-Staets; Afgedeelt in ses Hooft-stucken, Te weten Maeght, Vryster, Bruyt, Vrouwe, Moeder, Weduwe, Behelsende mede de Mannelycke Tegenplichten 1625, in: ADW I, pp. 235-424. Cennini, C. d’Andrea, Il Libro dell’Arte [see D.V. Thompson Jr. 1960]. Coornhert, D.V., Zedekunst dat is wellevenskunste. Vermids waarheyds kennisse vanden mensche, vande zonden ende vande dueghden nu alder eerst beschreven int Neerlandsch 1586 [see B. Becker 1942] Da Vinci, L., Paragone 1482-1500 [see Zwijnenberg 1996]. De Holanda, F., Diálogos de Roma – Da pintura antiga 1574 [see A. Boon 1993] Goeree, W., Inleydinge tot de Algemeene Teycken-Konst. Amsterdam 1697 [see M. Kwakkelstein 1998]. Grebber, P.F. de, Regulen: Welcke by ene goet Schilder en Teyckenaer geobserveert en achtervolght moeten werden 1649 [see A. Blankert 1999]. Houbraken, A., De Groote Schouburgh der Nederlantsche Konstschilders en Schilderessen. I en II 1718-1721 [see P.T.A. Swillens 1943-1944]. Junius, F., De Pictura Veterum 1638 [see K. Aldrich et al. 1991]. Lancilotti, F., Tractato di Pictura 1509 [see Miedema 1976]. Stevin, S., Derde Stuck der Wisconstighe Ghedachtenissen. Vande Devrsichtighe 1605-1608, in: PWS IIB. Amsterdam 1958, pp. 795-965. Van Beverwijck, J., Schat der gesontheyt 1636. Van Hoogstraten, S., Inleyding tot de Hooge Schoole der Schilderkonst: anders de Zichtbaere Werelt. verdeelt in negen Leerwinkels, yder bestiert door eene der Zanggodinnen. Ten hoogsten noodzakelijk, tot onderwijs, voor alle die deeze edele, vrye, en hooge Konst oeffenen, of met yver zoekente leeren, of anders eenigzins beminnen 1678. Facsimile Davaco Publishers 1969. Van Mander, K., Den grondt der edel vry schilder-const 1605 [see H. Miedema 1973]. Van der Passe, C., ‘t Light der teken en schilderkonst 1643 [see J. Bolten 1973]. Vasari, G., Le vite de’ più eccelenti pittori, scultori e architettori 1568 [see G. Bull 1965; H. van Veen 1996]. Vitruvius, De Architectura 33 v. Chr [see M.H. Morgan. 1960; T. Peters 1997]. Vredeman de Vries, J., Perspective 1604-1605. Facsimile New York 1968 [see P. Kartskarel 1979]. References Chapter 4 – Secondary literature Aikema, B. & B.L. Brown, ‘Venice: Where North Meets South’, in: B. Aikema & B. L. Brown, Renaissance Venice and the North. 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Zwijnenberg, R., The Writings and Drawings of Leonardo Da Vinci. Order and Chaos in Early Modern Thought. Cambridge 1999. 240 Notes Chapter 4 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. Sutton 1980, p. 9; Sutton 1984, p. 14; Kersten 1996, p. 132; Haak 1984, p. 321, on the other hand, reports that the landscape painter Carel (Charles) de Hooch was Pieter’s father. Haak corresponds with a statement made by Arnold Houbraken (1718), p. 336 (Swillens 1943, I) that the landscape painter Carel (Cornelisz.) de Hoogh, who died in Utrecht on 2 July 1638, was ‘de vader van Pieter de Hoogh’ [the father of Pieter de Hoogh]. It is known that his father was a member of the guild, that together with his first wife he had four more children, none of which were alive in 1657. After the death of his first wife (1648) Hendrick Hendricksz. de Hooch remarried and settled in the Lombertstraat in Rotterdam. After the death of his second wife, he left with his third wife for Middelburg in 1663. See Sutton 1998, p. 14; Kersten 1996, p. 132. Swillens 1944, II, p. 27. Kersten 1996, pp. 135-136 and 162-163. Schadee 1994. Kersten 1996, pp. 133-136; Haak 1984, p. 394. She came from Delft and lived at the Binnenwatersloot. Sutton 1998, p. 14; Haak 1984, p. 442. Kersten 1996, pp. 136-137. De Hooch was certainly familiar with De Witte. Haak 1984, p. 352. Sutton 1998, p. 15: It is noted in the archives that he lived at the Regulierspad and then at the Engelspad, both situated outside the town walls. This means that at the time he was one of the poorest sections of the population. After 1668 he moved to the Konijnenstraat (near the Lauriergracht). The work of Valentiner (1930) and the aforementioned work of Van Thienen (probably from 1945) date from before this period. The first to write about De Hooch was Arnold Houbraken (1918). See for the reception history Sutton 1998, pp. 12-13. Apart from the almost similar (chronological chapter classification) Sutton 1980 is more elaborate than Sutton 1998, particularly with regard to the archival material. The main difference between the two is that Sutton 1998 gives the results of a number of recent technical studies concerning De Hooch’s working method and use of perspective (p. 11). The iconographic interpretation in Sutton 1998 broadly follows that of Sutton 1980 (Chapter VI: ‘De Hooch and the Tradition of Dutch Genre Painting: Iconographic Issues’, pp. 41-51). Kersten 1996, pp. 131-132; Sutton 1998, pp. 11-13, 62. Sutton 1980, p. 14; Sutton 1998, p. 18. Kersten 1996, p. 145. Sutton 1998, p. 62; Kersten 1996, p. 131. Sutton 1998, p. 20. Sutton 1998, p. 62; Brenninckmeijer-de Rooij 1984, pp. 60-70; Broos 1993; Blankert 1999. De Jongh 1998, p. 170. Price 1987, p. 121; Schama 1988; Porteman 1977; De Mare 1997A. Sutton 1998, pp. 26-29, 64. Kersten 1996, pp. 148-149; Haak 1984. Hollander 1990, 2000. Sutton 1998, p. 64. Sutton 1998, pp. 68-75; Haak 1984, p. 443: ‘scenes derived from everyday life around him’; Kersten 1996, p. 131: ‘everyday life in the Golden Age in a way that has never been equalled’. 241 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. Haak 1984, p. 443: ‘rooms of wealthy citizens where the housewife is busy, children walking around’, ‘intimate surroundings of courtyards’; Kersten 1996, p. 131: ‘a breathtaking series of rooms where women are engaged in their daily activities’. Halbertsma 1991, p. 73. Hollander 1990, pp. 4-9, 86. But there are also precedents for spatial gender segregation. Hollander 1990, p. 113 refers to a fifteenth-century painting by Peter Christ ‘Holy Family in an interior’ (bp.4.98.2). Hollander 1990, p. 114; Hollander 2000, pp. 281-282. From for example Jacques de Gheyn (1596-1641) and Willem Buytenwech (1591/921624). For example, by Dirck Hals (1591-1656) and Judith Leyster (1609-1660). Sutton 1998, p. 68. Halbertsma 1991, pp. 76-77. Sutton 1998, p. 11: ‘De Hooch was one of the first to celebrate domestic virtue in a country that had the resources to make the nuclear family its primary social unit and moral form’. Idem Sutton 1998, pp. 68, 71. Halbertsma 1991, pp. 77-78: ‘We see here, as in more paintings by de Hooch, a modern family situation: there is only one child, and it is carefully brought up’; Hollander 1990, pp. 61-64; p. 104. ‘Certainly the Calvinist view of daily life was rigorously home-centered: the family was considered the ideal training-ground for one’s moral and spiritual life, and thus required much attention’. Sutton 1998, p. 11. Sutton 1998, p. 11; Hollander 2000, pp. 280-281. Franits, in his art historical study on De Hooch and other ‘genre paintings’, illustrates and supports this using Cats’ chapter arrangement of the phases of women’s life in the Houwelick; Hollander 2000, p. 281. See my Chapter 3 on Jacob Cats. Franits 1993, p. 9. Halbertsma 1991, p. 73: ‘The subject of motherhood in painting is a Dutch innovation from the seventeenth century’. Halberstma 1991, 77-78: ‘In these paintings, motherly love is never something passive. Housewifehood and motherly love are an active occupation; work is clearly being done. Pieter de Hooch from Delft was the first European painter who chose maternal love and care as the iconic subject for his paintings. This theme is varied by him in countless ways. The Hooch’s paintings, in their stunning simplicity and delightful design, are unique: for the first time, mothers are depicted here as examples of virtue’. In Les Musées de la Hollande, 2 vols, pp. 58-59, according to Sutton 1998, pp. 60, 84. Thus noted in Sutton 1998, pp. 58-60. Brugmans 1931, p. 1. J. & A. Roman 1977A, p. 366. Noordam 1982, pp. 313-314. Rosenberg 1979, p. 212. Schama 1988, pp. 398-399, on the occasion of ‘Mother a child at an open window with a sweeping woman’ (p. 395). Sutton 1998, p. 11. Sutton 1998, p. 30. Suslov 1980, pp. 94-95. Westermann 1996B and 1997; Chapman et al. 1996; 1996; W. Kloek 1998; Halbertsma 1991 writes about ‘Jan Steen’s household’ p. 79 that he ‘persists in the old negative: that’s not how it should be’. Sutton 1998, p. 72; Broos 1993, p. 304. Halbertsma 1991, p. 78. 242 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. Proverbs 31, with the virtues of the Good Woman. Sutton 1998, p. 72; Kloek 1993A; Bange 1985. For the first meaning of the birdcage (‘happy through slavery’) Sutton 1998, pp. 72-74 refers to Jacob Cats (ADW I, p. 28). For the meaning of the ‘bunch of grapes’, Sutton refers to De Jongh 1974, pp. 166-191. Sutton 1998, pp. 71 and p 75. Rybczynski 1986, p. 72. Hollander 1990, pp. 2, p 80. And on p. 100: ‘The demarcation of inside and outside is often determined by gender’; Hollander 2000, pp. 282-283. Halbertsma 1991, pp. 77-78 speaks of paintings in which ‘a tribute is paid to the patroness of that which is most dear to the Dutch’. Sutton 1998, p. 30: ‘... seem to celebrate the woman’s role as housewife and mother in the home’. Halbertsma 1991, pp. 77-78. Sutton 1998, pp. 30 and 68: ‘... to the exclusion of husbands and fathers’; idem Sutton 1984, p. 220; Halbertsma 1991, pp. 77-78: ‘fathers are not there in De Hooch, they have work to do elsewhere. Or they are there indirectly, as in the painting “The basement room” where a man’s portrait decorates the small room near the street’ (bp. 4.18.2). Hollander 1990, pp. 100, 105, 109, 110-112. Halberstma 1991, pp. 77-78. Hollander 1990, p. 106. Halberstma 1991, pp. 77-78, with reference to Max Weber; idem Hollander 1990. Hollander 1991, p. 85: ‘intimacy’, ‘intimate space indoors’. Kersten 1996, pp. 138-141; Haak 1984, p. 443; Sutton 1998, p. 11. Rosenberg 1979, pp. 212-214. Hollander 1990, p. 1: ‘their images of social and domestic life’. Hollander 1990, p. 100. Sutton 1984, p. 215: ‘usually introduce actual architecture into fanciful designs’; idem Sluijter 1990. Sutton 1998, p. 32, referring to cat. no. 9, 10 (bp.4.20.4), 11, 19 (bp.4.14.1), 20 (bp.4.20.2). De Hooch also paints the interior (cat. no. 31, 32) and exterior (fig. 57) of Van Campen’s Amsterdam Town Hall, according to Sutton 1998, p. 56. Idem Hollander 1990, pp. 96-97. Idem Hollander 1990, p. 95; Rosenberg 1979, p. 212. Sutton 1998, p. 74. Hollander 1990, p. 79, idem p. 100. Sutton 1998, pp. 40-42; Kersten 1996 mentions ‘the correct perspectival reduction’, ‘masterful control’ (p. 145); Haak 1984, p. 443: ‘a pure application of perspective’. Sutton 1998, p. 21; Kersten 1996. Sutton 1998, p. 11; Kersten 1996, p. 143; Hollander 1990, p. 91. Sutton 1998, p. 42. Kersten 1996, p. 154 and p. 155; Hollander 1990, ‘Pieter de Hooch: the spaces of house and city’, pp. 79-151. Sutton 1998, p. 42. Kemp 1990, p. 118. Sutton 1998, p. 30. Sutton 1998, p. 40. Hollander 1990, pp. 91-95. Kemp 1990, p. 118. See also Jantzen 1979; Von Weiher 1937; Liedtke 1982. Rosenberg 1979, p. 212. Haak 1984, p. 443: ‘brighter and lanker’, ‘warm tone’, ‘enlivened with bright blue and bright red’; Kersten 1996, p. 145: ‘the warm, inward-flowing sunlight’; Romein 1977, ‘the idealizing light of the summer afternoon’; Sutton 1998: ‘brilliant red and silver’ (p. 26), ‘warm atmospheric palette’ (p. 31); Kersten 1996: ‘beautiful light’, ‘warm use of color'’ (p. 131), ‘the warm sunlight’ (p. 131). 138), ‘warm 243 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. sunlight’, ‘beautifully lit’, ‘bathing in sunlight’, ‘one, sun-drenched whole’ (p. 145), ‘breathes an atmosphere of richness and opulence’ (p. 152), ‘golden tone’, ‘warm atmosphere’, ‘warm sunlight’ (p. 155); Hollander 1990, p. 101: ‘warm colors’, ‘the sunlight shining through’, ‘atmospheric touches’; Rosenberg 1979, p. 212: ‘the warmth and depth of the coloring’, ’the golden tonality’. Sutton 1998, p. 26. Suslov 1980, pp. 94-95. Hollander 1990, p. 101, on the occasion of ‘Woman making the bed, child with cob stick in the door’ (bp. 4.23.2). Sutton 1998, p. 31, on the occasion of ‘Woman Nursing an Infant with a Child and Dog’ (cat. no.16, bp.4.18.3). Haak 1984, p. 443: ‘The ability to capture the incoming light that surrounds the objects and figures is decisive’. Kersten, p. 148: how De Hooch ‘evoked the illusion of (...) light’ is ‘new and unparalleled’. Haak 1984, p. 443. Sutton 1998, p. 31. Hollander 1990, p. 108; Hollander 2000, pp. 277, 290; Kersten 1996, p. 146 (with reference to ‘Interior with a drinking woman and two men’, 1658, fig. 136, p. 147 (bp. 4.9.2)); Westermann 1996B, p. 78; Kahr 1982, p. 265; Price 1987, p. 108; Broos 1990, p. 295. Kersten 1996, p. 156. Van Thienen 1945, pp. 26, 29. Sutton 1998, p. 30. Sutton 1998, p. 30. Kersten 1996, p. 138. Kersten 1996, p. 131. Art historians underline this impression: ‘the seventeenth-century world seems almost tangible in these works’ and the paintings ‘look like modern snapshots at first sight’ (Kersten 1996, p. 131); ‘stunningly naturalistic’ (Kersten 1996, p. 132), Haak 1984, p. 443: ‘the pursuit of a tangible reality’; Hollander 1990, p. 8: ‘a persuasive illusionism in depicting the surfaces of the natural world’. Kahr 1982, p. 265. Collomp 1989, pp. 430-431. Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992, p. 81. Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1992, pp. 81-82. Rybczynski 1986, p. 69: ‘It should be said immediately that it is unlike that the Witte’s was a depiction of an actual house; photographic as his paintings appear, they are imagined, not real’. Haak 1984, p. 443; Kersten 1996, p. 131. Rybczynski 1986, p. 69, in this case De Witte (bp.4.46.1). Haak 1984, p. 443; Kersten 1996, pp. 150-152. Kersten 1996, pp. 150-152. Haak 1984, p. 443; Kersten 1996, p. 131. Kersten 1996, p. 131. Sutton 1998, p. 62. See for instance De Jongh 1976; Miedema 1989B; Sluijter 1988, 1990, 1993. Sutton 1998, p. 84, n. 113. Sutton 1998, p. 62. Sluijter 1991A, 1991-1992, Sluijter & Spaans 2001; Bal 1987, 1990; Van de Pol 1988A, pp. 122-124. Sutton 1998, pp. 66-67. Sutton 1998, pp. 64-65 refers to ‘Two couples Embracing’, 1673-75 (fig. 66). Hollander 1990, ‘Woman’s Place: The Erotic Sphere’, p. 123. 244 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. Sutton 1998, p. 67. Sutton refers to ‘A woman Receiving a Letter from a Man’, c. 1668-70 (bp.4.25.2), where a young woman in a domestic scene receives a letter from a young man at the door and on the wall behind it hangs an erotic painting depicting ‘Lot and his daughters’ after Hendrick Goltzius’ print. The same painting also appears in ‘A standing woman with a woman playing the cello’ (Sutton 1980, cat. 118, pl. 121) and in ‘A Woman with a child and a serving woman’ (Sutton 1980, cat. 117, pl. 120). Sutton 1998, p. 11; Halbertsma 1991, p. 70: ‘Visual art used to have a different function than it does today. Art not only had an entertaining function but also a didactic one. People looked at art to learn something from it, and not so much to see what reality looked like. Old depictions of mothers and children, such as in the paintings of Pieter de Hooch from the seventeenth century, should therefore not be seen as a representation, but as an interpretation of everyday life’. De Jongh 1980, p. 7. Sutton 1984, p. 220; Sutton 1998, p. 11; Kersten 1996, pp. 145, p. 161. Hollander 1991, p. 136. Kersten 1996, p. 158; Hollander 1990, p. 85; Sutton 1980. Westermann 1996B, p. 14; Kahr 1982, p. 265. Rosenberg et al., 1979, p. 212. Hollander 1990, p. 109: ‘Although the home was seen as the province of the wife, who maintained and controlled it, the husband, as breadwinner, provided the economic basis for its existence. Aside from suggesting the economic realities of family relations, however, this picture also suggests the more abstract political notion of fatherly authority. Coexistent with the equality of marital relations described in prescriptive literature is the insistence that within the context of family, the father still presided over a household as a king presides over his country’. Hollander 1991. Hollander 1991, p. 136. Doniger 1998, p. 51. Sutton 1998, pp. 40-42; Wheelock 1977; Kemp 1990; Giltaij & Jansen 1991. Van Hoogstraten (title page, idem p. 2): ‘Ten hoogsten noodzakelijk, tot onderwijs, voor alle die deeze edele, vrye, en hooge Konst oeffenen, of met yder zoeken te leeren, of anders eenigszins beminnen’ [Most necessary for the education, of all who practice this noble, liberal, and high Art, or anyone who seeks to learn it, or otherwise somewhat love it]; Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996; Van Veen 1996. Drawing (I.5-I.8); Nude (II.5-II.9); ‘Historien’ ['Histories] (III.3-III.4); sisterhood between poetry and painting, the Horatian ut pictura poesis (for instance I.1, p. 2; III.1, pp. 69-70, with reference to Cicero; Allegorical additions (III.5); on ‘onderwijs’ [education] and ‘vermaak’ [entertainment] that ‘kunstige werken’ [works of art] should donate (a.o. III.6, p. 93). Sutton 1980, pp. 18, 26-27, 39, 71; Sutton 1998, pp. 23-24, p. 83; Brusati 1995, pp. 169217. Brusati 1995 mentions self-portraits (pp. 40-41), portraits of several prominent citizens of Dort, their wives and children (pp. 132-133, 112-117) and group portraits (pp. 128, 83). Brusati 1995, pp. 169-217. Sutton 1980, 1998. For further biographical data, see Roscam Abbing 1993, pp. 9-15. Besides painter and writer on the art of painting, he published at least twenty-five other works (including poems, plays, novels). For Van Beverwijck (around 1640 in Dordrecht) he made etchings for a publication on scurvy. As is well known, Van Beverwijck experimented in the same way as Van Hoogstraten with the camera obscura (Alpers 1983, pp. 41-42). For several years he was attached to the Habsburg court in Vienna (1651-1655) and visited Italy. He married Sara Balen (1656) and stayed with her in London (16621671). From 1667 he lived in The Hague and in 1673 he settled in Dordrecht. Roscam 245 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. Abbing points out that Van Hoogstraten knew several languages (German, English, Latin and made translations from French). Taylor 1995, p. 77; Van de Wetering 1997, p. XII. Taylor 1995 counts twelve writings of a certain size (until 1750), Emmens 1964 mentions fifteen (up to and including Houbraken, 1718). See for instance Taylor 1992, p. 227: ‘Some historians of Dutch art, conscious of how infrequently Dutch art theory seems to have been read by Dutch artists, are wary of using the theoretical texts in their analyses of the paintings, fearing that what they find there may not reflect the attitudes of artists and connoisseurs in general. And yet this wariness seems rather excessive, for even if the theory little influenced the practice, the practice almost certainly informed much of the theory’. Vollemans 1998, p. 64. Brusati 1995, pp. 120-125, 207, 310-311; Sutton 1998, p. 18. Such as Jan van Eyck (c. 1395-1441) and Antonello da Messina (c. 1430-1479), see Aikema & Brown 1999, pp. 212-218, or Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-1553), Jacopo de’ Barbari (c. 1460/70-1516) and Albrecht Dürer (Aikema & Brown 1999, pp. 388-391). Janson 1961, p. 285. Honour & Fleming 1999, p. 430. For a similar view, see Alpers 1983, p. 267, n. 9. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 3. According to Emmens 1981-IIC [with S.H. Levie], p. 45. Van Hoogstraten derived the classification into nine chapters dedicated to the Muses from Junius 1637. Moorman & Uitterhoeve 1987, pp. 174-177. See e.g. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 239 (Minerva). Van Hoogstraten 1678, VI-10, p. 239. For the paragone between Zeuxis and Parrhasius see for instance Angel 1642, pp. 12-13; see also Hecht 1989, pp. 42-43. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 238. Dou is honoured as ‘Hollandschen Parrhasius’ (Rymbundel, p. 17, part of the Tyd-zifter 1662 by Dirck Traudenius, according to Hecht 1989, p. 43, n. 6). Huygens considers Rubens ‘de Appeles onder de schilders van zijn tijd’ [the Apelles among the painters of his time]; Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 73). Emmens 1965, p. 11 reports that ‘Mor, court painter of the Spanish king’ is sung by the befriended humanist Lampsonius ‘like a second Apelles’. Van Mander compared Hendrick Goltzius with Michelangelo (De Jong et al. 1995, p. 12). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 257. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 257: ‘... maer holla, ik wil de tans noch levendige, om geen jalouzie te verwekken, overslaen’ [but okay, I want to skip the currently living, so as not to cause jealous]. This remark follows his enumeration in which he does mention a few still working artists, such as the portrait painter Jan de Baen (deceased 1702) and Van Mieris. Which painter Van Hoogstraten has in mind in the latter case is unclear: all four painters with this surname are still alive in 1678, according to Haak 1984. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 257. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 256. Van Sterkenburg 1981, p. 29. Close 1969 and 1971. Alpers 1982 and 1983. Which are not easily identified with authors: in the work of some authors such as Alpers or Emmens, different trends can be identified. For an example of the laborious recapitulation of points of view and the equally inevitable decision that follows to return to ordinary art-historical practice, see for example StoneFerrier 1983, pp. 3-35. For an introduction, see Miedema 1989A, pp. 144-149. 246 163. 164. 165. 166. 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. See for instance Franits 1997, p. 1: ‘It is well known, for example, that the verisimilitude of Dutch paintings led many nineteenth-century writers to believe that these works objectively represented the everyday world, that they provided unmediated, tangible access to contemporary life. This unfounded, pragmatic view flourished until well into the twentieth century. As Konrad Renger’s essay demonstrates, it was only around the period of World War II that scholars slowly began to reassess time-honored perceptions of Dutch paintings. In their seemingly faithful rendition of the surrounding world, and in their painstaking attention to detail, Dutch paintings can rightly be called realistic. Nevertheless, their realism is merely plausible because they do not simply transcribe daily life. Renger’s essay sheds light on the work of several earlier scholars who perceived that the verisimilitude of Dutch paintings, their presentation of a plausible reality that had for so long been esteemed, simultaneously served as a conduit for a multitude of ideas and associations. These first, hesitant steps toward the interpretation of Dutch art – namely, the analysis of its potential meanings – proved decisive’. See Miedema 1989A who writes about this in several places. A similar issue is raised by Veldman 1989, p. 96 and p. 97, where she rightly points out ‘that the current view of art about what is “beautiful” and “not beautiful” is essentially based on nineteenth-century criteria’, and Veldman 1992, p. 229:’'the visual arts have laws and traditions of their own’. See also the comments on this subject by De Jongh. For an overview of the weight of the claim of iconology as a historical science, see De Mare 1997A. See in particularly Panofsky 1984, pp. 7-32, 101-129. On platonic ideas in art theory, see Miedema 1973A, pp. 103, 176 and 201. Miedema 1989A, pp. 103, 112-113: ‘... until well into the nineteenth century, works of art can usually be put to good use in researching the ideas that prevailed at the time of their creation; after all, they stem from a tradition whose aim was to express those ideas. This is obvious for all mythological and allegorical representations, but even most scenes that occur as everyday events are nevertheless intended to be moralizing, typical and exemplary, and at the very least represent a programmatic whole. Scenes that at first glance seemed to be uncomplicated snapshots turned out, when compared, to go back to existing types. Situations that looked deceptively real because of their seemingly commonplace appearance were found to be impossible to have existed in that way’. De Jongh 1998, p. 170; Brenninckmeyer-de Rooij 1984, p. 61; Taylor 1995, p. 78. By the way, this idea has also been adopted by concept historians, see Hampsher-Monk 1998, p. 8. Alpers 1983, p. xxiv speaks in this one, referring to Wollheim, of a ‘transparent view of art’. Panofsky 1971; De Jongh 1976, 1986 and 1997. See e.g. Sutton 1980, pp. 18, 41; De Jongh 1995B, pp. 85-87; Hecht 1989, pp. 26 and 38; Koslow 1967, p. 36, n. 5; Sluijter 1993; Miedema 1973A. As Veldman 1989, p. 97 once rightly remarked: ‘Even in the art-theoretical treatises of the past, the style and technique of a painter receive much more attention than the subject of a picture’. It concerns Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 24: ‘De Schilderkonst is een wetenschap, om alle ideen, ofte denkbeelden, die de gansche zichtbaere natuer kan geven, te verbeelden: en met omtrek en verwe het oog te bedriegen’ [The Art of Painting is a science to imagine all the ideas or conceptions that the entire visible nature can give: and with circumference and color to seduce the eye] and p. 25: ‘Want een volmaekte Schildery is als een spiegel van de Natuer, die de dingen, die niet en zijn, doet schijnen te zijn, en op een geoorlofde vermakelijke en prijselijke wijze bedriegt’ [For a perfect Painting is like a reflection on Nature, which makes things appear which are not, and which tempts in a permissible, renewing and praiseworthy manner]. See e.g. Sluijter 1993, pp. 66-67; Roscam Abbing 1993, p. 12. Bialostocki 1984, p. 438. 247 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. 182. 183. 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. Broos 1993, p. 10. Blankert 1999, p. 14: ‘The misunderstanding of the classicists had a lot to do with the general misunderstanding of Dutch history painting. They were among the most misunderstood Dutch history painters. According to the seventeenth-century view, the history piece was the highest in the hierarchy of subjects a painter could choose. People in Holland also agreed’. De Jongh 1973; De Jongh 1986, p. 31: ‘Gradually the average citizen begins to show a more restrained behavior, a behavior that in its more mature phase could be characterized by keywords such as industriousness, diligence, austerity, moderation, prudery, and so on, although it soon sounds too nice. A more restrained behavior, by which one should understand: restrained with respect to what we can call the more “natural” life of the Middle Ages, a life characterized by a greater emphasis on physicality and in some respects by relatively little embarrassment, although it was by no means devoid of codes of conduct’; see also Veldman 1990/1991, p. 138. Alpers 1983, p. 231. Alpers 1983, p. 46. Vollemans 1998, p. 31: ‘Alpers is concerned with specifying the stakes of Dutch art, distinguishing them from the principles of Italian art accepted by art historians as too universal …’. Alpers 1983, p. xxvii. Brusati 1995, p. 218; Vollemans 1998. Alpers 1983, p. 26. Alpers 1983, p. 26: ‘I have elected the use the verbal form of the noun for essentially three reasons: it calls attention to the making of images rather than to the finished product; it emphasizes the inseparability of maker, picture, and what is pictured; and it allows us to broaden the scope of what we study since mirrors, maps, and [..] eyes also can take their place alongside of art as forms of picturing so understood’. Brusati 1992, pp. 65-71; Brusati 1995, pp. 7-8. See also Alpers 1983, Vollemans 1998. Alpers 1983, p. xx: ‘This distinction is not an absolute one. Numerous variations and even exceptions can doubtless be found. And one must leave the geographic boundaries of the distinction flexible: some French or Spanish works, even some Italian ones can fruitfully be seen as partaking of the descriptive mode, while the works of Rubens, a northerner steeped in the art of Italy, can be seen in terms of the ways in which on various occasions he variously engages both these modes’. Alpers 1976. Alpers 1983, p. xx. Alpers 1983. On p. 44, she summarizes ‘the well-established contrast between north and south in the following ways: attention to many small things versus a few large ones; light reflected off objects versus objects modeled by light and shadow; the surface of objects, their colors and textures, dealt with rather than their placement in a legible space; an unframed image versus one that is clearly framed; one with no clearly situated viewer compared to one with such a viewer. The distinction follows a hierarchical model of distinguishing between phenomena commonly referred to as primary and secondary: objects and space versus the surfaces, forms versus the textures of the world’. Brusati 1995, p. 227: ‘foreign [italian] ideals’ versus ‘native [dutch] assumptions and practice of art’; Hollander 1991, p. 119: ‘unmistakable character’ of the Dutch art; Honig 1990, p. 34. Emmens 1981-IIA, pp. 6, 45; Emmens 1964, p. 100; Alpers 1983, p. 59 and p. 62. Brusati 1995 (based on Emmens 1964 and Alpers 1983), pp. 219 and 222. Alpers 1982, p. 185. Melion 1991, p. xix. Hollander 1991, p. 52. 248 194. 195. 196. 197. 198. 199. 200. 201. 202. 203. 204. 205. 206. 207. 208. 209. 210. 211. 212. 213. 214. 215. 216. 217. 218. 219. 220. 221. Marin 1986, p. 100. Alpers 1976; Berger jr. 1998; Melion 1991; Miedema 1989, p. 199. By the way, the fact that Alpers is thinking about Dutch painting on a European scale has been blamed by some critics as an inconsistency. Dunkerton 1999, p. 210. Burke himself (1989, p. 10) gives one reason why the art-historical paradigm remained intact: ‘Many people still take this nineteenth-century Renaissance myth seriously. Television companies and travel agencies are still making money from it’. Especially in the field of visual culture, such as in Ravenna. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996; Smith 1992; Honour & Fleming 1999. Dunkerton 1999, p. 1. Aikema & Brown 1999, p. 19: ‘The arts of the North and the South would always remain distinct and separate languages with their own vocabularies and idioms, but individual motifs, artistic techniques, and even conceptual notions were translated, like words, back and forth between the cultures. We have chosen to call this change “crosscurrents”, because the ideas flowed in both directions at times converging mid-stream, mixing and flowing back toward their sources of origin in a new and transformed manner’. De Mare 1997A, pp. 122-123. Alpers 1976. Steer 1970; Catalogue. Velazquez en zijn tijd 1986; Catalogue. Schittering van Spanje 1598-1648 1998; Alpers 1976, 1983. Alpers 1976; idem Miedema 1976, p. 6-7: ‘That [by Lancilotti] disegno is contrasted with colorito should not be misunderstood: it would still take decades before Florentines and Venetians would blame each other for having too much of one and too little of the other, and it would still take another century and a half before a theoretical battle about the value of “dessin” and “coloris” would arise in France. It would be wrong to let the shadow of these disagreements fall back on Lancilotti’s scarce rules’. Melion 1991, p. xvii; Emmens 1964; De Pauw-de Veen 1969; Miedema 1973A. Gombrich 1983; Baxandall 1972, 1984 (‘patterns of intention’, ‘style of thinking’ and ‘cognitive style’); Edgerton 1991. Stam 2000, p. 236, referring to Bordwell, Branigan and others who developed their theory of spectator activity in the film based on the work of Gombrich and Baxandall. Baxandall 1986, pp. 39-42; Stam 2000, p. 240; IJsseling 1981, pp. 25-29. Baxandall 1985, p. 106. See e.g. p. 129: ‘the sleeve’, as entrance on Eglon van der Neer. Or the fabric rendering on p. 155 (Caspar Netscher), p. 217 (Pieter van Slingelandt) or p. 229 (Arie de Vois). See also Van de Wetering 1997 (pp. 24, 34, 157-159, 161, 171-172, 174, 179, 181, 183, 185, 189, 213, 232, 233, 234) and Van de Wetering 1998 (pp. 8, 27, 30, 31). Dunkerton 1991; Catalogus. Vermeer in het licht 1995; Van de Wetering 1997, 1998; Hendriks & Groen 1993. Van de Wetering 1997, p. XIII. Dunkerton 1991, pp. 194-196. For the stratification in the work by Van Eyck, see Dunkerton 1991, p. 194. Van de Wetering 1998A, pp. 160-169. Honour & Fleming 1999, p. 422: ‘Gothic artists did not know they were Gothic, or even medieval, but the renaissance artist was well aware that he was different. No previous movement in Western art had been so self-conscious’. Dunkerton 1991 and 1999. Gallwitz 1999. Alpers 1983. 249 222. 223. 224. 225. 226. 227. 228. 229. 230. 231. 232. 233. 234. 235. 236. 237. 238. 239. 240. 241. 242. For example, Blunt 1978, p. 2 writes about the Italian Renaissance painter: ‘For them painting consisted first and foremost in the rendering of the outside world according to the principles of human reason. Therefore, they could no longer acknowledge a theory of the arts which did not allow any place to naturalism or to the scientific study of the material world.’ Something similar Alpers 1983, p. xxv writes about the Dutch painters: ‘The Dutch present their pictures as describing the world seen rather than as imitations if significant human actions. Already established pictorial and craft tradition, broadly reinforced by the new experimental science and technology, confirmed pictures as the way to new and certain knowledge of the world’. Alpers 1983. More generally, Roland Barthes uses the term ‘semioclasm’ or whirlwind of signs to denote the ‘breakdown of connotations and denotations of the sign systems of a culture’, ‘which must precede the reshaping of systems’ (Monaco 1984, p. 471; Barthes 1975, p. 9-10). Hesling 1991; Poppe 1991. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 19: ‘Hoe men met ordre te leeren heeft’ [How to learn in an orderly way]. Van de Wetering 1997, p. xiii names his insertions with quotes from early modern writings as ‘time machines’: ‘These texts, of which it is often a miracle that they survived, are however first of all meant to serve as little time-machines that transport us back into the past and help us understand the thinking of the book’s protagonist’. Emmens 1964, p. 10. Sutton 1984, p. 216; Haak 1984, p. 443; Hollander 1990, p. 79 (‘geometrical precision’, ‘intense, almost obsessive interest in ordering the picture space’); Wheelock 1977, p. 1 (‘utilized perspective to achieve striking spatial effects’). Kemp 1990, p. 118; Carr 1992, pp. 54-55; Sutton 1980, p. 22 (‘acutely aware of the spacedefining properties of these phenomenon’). Bordwell 1997, pp. 4-7, 104-110; Sturken & Cartwright 2001, pp. 111-114; Mirzoeff 1999, pp. 8, 38-51; Mulvey 1986; Post 1998, pp. 368-369; Delpeut 1980, p. 79. For a critique see De Mare 1986A. Frissen & De Mul 2000; Hall 1991. Gerl 1989, p. 31. Hockney 2001, p. 51 (‘the optical look arrived suddenly’, ‘was immediately coherent and complete’); Herzog 1990, p. 99 (‘durch einen Startschuss geweckt’ [woken by a starting shot], ‘eine stürmische Vorwärtsentwicklung’ [a stormy forward development], ‘neue Zeit dämmerte auf’ ['new time dawned]); Cole 1993, p. 6 (‘groundbreaking experiments’); Verwey & Kindt 1999, p. 1; Ruurs 1986, pp. 19-20; Wright 1983, p. 55. Edgerton 1993, p. 10; Wheelock Jr. 1977, p. 4; Burke 1989, p. 23 (‘one crucial development in this period unrelated to antiquity’); Carr 1992 (‘systematic perspective based on mathematical principles’). Kemp 1990, p. 9. Janson 1961, p. 310; Cole 1993, p. 12; Sutton 1998, pp. 40-42; Wheelock 1977, p. 4; Baxandall 1971, p. 125. Other ‘precursors’ that are mentioned are Giotto, Duccio, Lorenzetti, Ghiberti, Pierro della Francesca and Massacio. Cennini is said to have already ‘incited’ these rules in his handbook. Bomford 1995, p. 12. Wheelock Jr. 1977, pp. 5-6. Sutton 1980, p. 22; Wheelock Jr. 1977. Alpers 1983, p. 53 points out that Italian and Dutch perspective techniques differ only gradually. For criticism on Alper’s point of view see Grafton & DaCosta Kaufmann 1985, p. 260 and Vollemans 1998, p. 39. Alpers 1983, p. 27, pp. 52-59; Bryson 1993, p. 118. 250 243. 244. 245. 246. 247. 248. 249. 250. 251. 252. 253. 254. 255. 256. 257. 258. 259. 260. 261. 262. Wheelock 1977, p. 9; Sluijter 1990; Ruurs 1986; Walsh 1991, p. 95. For the 19th-century origins of this view of photography directly ‘into a magic world of pure similitude’, see Nochlin 1971, pp. 14-15. However, Nochlin writes: ‘Even in photography, which comes closer to fulfilling the demand for “transparency” the photographer’s choice in viewpoint, length of exposure, size of focal opening and so on, intervene between the object and the image printed on the paper.’ Idem Alpers 1983, pp. 243-244, n. 37. Zwijnenberg 1999, p. 134; Cole 1993, p. 6. Kemp 1990, p. 7; Wheelock Jr. 1977, p. 4; Carr 1992, p. 54; Zwijnenberg 1999, p. 112; Gadol 1969, pp. 22-23, 28. Alpers 1984, p. 138: the ‘Albertian perspective posits a viewer at a certain distance looking through a framed window to a putative substitutive world’, see also p. 245, n. 46. Blunt 1978, p. 2 (‘new ideal of art’, ‘the most progressive minds in Florence’, ‘men’s new approach to the world’, ‘their Humanist confidence’, ‘their reliance on the methods of reason’, ‘new weapons of perspective and anatomy’). Gerl 1989, pp. 32-33 (‘Explosion’ [explosion], ‘einsetzende bewusstseinsmäsige Erschütterungen’ [Incipient shaking of consciousness], ‘Veränderung des Körpergefüls’ [change of body feeling], ‘beginnenden Subjektiviering’ [incipient subjectivation], ‘Gewinnung des Körpers als eines Ichträgers’ [gaining of the body as an ego carrier], ‘neues Raumbewusstsein’ [new spatial consciousness]). For the feminist equation of male (perspectival) objectification and subjugation of the woman by the gaze, see: Gadol 1977; Mulvey 1986; Gerl 1989, p. 28: ‘als Träger von Rationalität und selbstbewusster Reflexivität, mit dem Ziel von Aussenbeherrschung und Mechanisierung der Natur, von Bändigung der Materie durch Erforschen ihrer Gesetzlichkeit.’ (...) Die Frage stellt sich, wie die Frau an den neuformulierten “studia humaniora”, an dem neuen “Welt-und Selbstverhältnis” teil hat’ [as a bearer of rationality and self-conscious reflexivity, with the goal of external mastery and mechanization of nature, of taming matter by exploring its lawfulness'. (...) The question arises how the woman participates in the newly formulated ‘studia humaniora’, in the new ‘world and self relation’]. Frissen & De Mul 2000, p. 4; Bor & Petersma 2000, pp. 243-244. Recently pronounced by Zur Lippe 1999. He is, as introduced by Gelderblom & Hendrix 1999, p. 3 ‘inclined to see geometrization as an ominous harbinger of totalitarian systems that seek to destroy individual life forms’. Alpers 1994, quoted in Elkins 1994. Veltman 1995, p. 209. Veltman 1995, pp. 209-210, Veltman 1995, p. 213. Damisch 1995, pp. xix and 3-4. Damisch 1996, p. xiv-xv by the way, does not mention any other authors apart from his own article from 1963. Elkins 1994, p. 217. Elkins 1994, p. 246. Elkins 1994, p. 234. The analyses come from Steadman 2001 (bp.4.18 and bp.4.29.1) and Sutton 1998 (bp.4.29.2-3). Elkins 1994, pp. 217-219, 220. Van den Berg 2002, ‘Intuitive perspective. Computer analysis shows that Masaccio failed in his Trinità’. Illustrative in this regard is also Field 1993. She emphatically analyzes reproductions by Piero della Francesca that are the least reminiscent of his painted tableaux, in order to then demonstrate the importance of mathematical construction in a painting. On p. 76 she writes: ‘Small photographs inevitably fail to show the subtlety of Piero’s use of color, his delicate handling of the fall of light and his precise calligraphic treatment of 251 263. 264. 265. 266. 267. 268. 269. 270. 271. 272. 273. 274. 275. 276. 277. 278. 279. 280. 281. 282. 283. 284. 285. 286. 287. details. However, they do, brutally, isolate some important elements that may perhaps be related to his skill as a mathematician (…). The smaller and uglier the reproduction, the more easily one is able to ascribe this effect to Piero’s capacity for introducing quantities of subtle symmetries that provide a strong mathematical framework for the composition in the plane’. Elkins 1994, p. 226. Elkins 1994, p. 218. Elkins 1994, pp. 218, 231. Elkins 1994, p. 217. Elkins 1994, p. xi. Wheelock Jr. 1977, p. 5; Alpers 1983; Brusati 1995; for Stevin see PWS IIB, pp. 785-793, 800-964. Lindberg 1976. Usually, authors emphasize the gap between optics and linear perspective, as if they were two areas with the same weight. See Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 69-70, 45-46). Elkins 1994, p. 237, Damisch 1995, p. 11. Elkins 1994, p. 233. Close 1969, p. 467. Close 1969, p. 482. Close 1969, p. 467. Literally, ‘perspectare’ also means looking closely, to see through to the end, seeingthrough. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 287) refers to Pieter Coecke van Aelst and Hans Bloem. Miedema 1973A, pp. 645-646 indicates that Van Mander was familiar with the Rivius’ translation of Alberti’s treatise. Vredeman de Vries 1968, p. A. The Grebber 1649 (Blankert 1999) rule I: ‘De plaets is van noode te vveten, daermen hangen wil dat ghemaeckt sal worden, om verscheyde redenen; om ‘t licht: om de hooghte des plaets: om soo vorder ons afstant en Orison te nemen; waer toe oock dient dat alle Ordineerders de grondt van de Perspectief behoren grondigh te verstaen’ [It is necessary to know the place, where one wants to hang that which will be made, for several reasons; because of the light: because of the height of the place: and further to determine the distance and the horizon; to which end it is convenient for those who make arrangements that they should thoroughly understand the ground of the Perspective]. For example, Goeree 1697, p. 8 refers only to works by Serlio, Marolois (1638), Vredeman de Vries (1604/1605), Desargues (1664) and Bosse (1667), according to Kwakkelstein 1998, p. 91. See also Alpers 1983, chapters 2 and 3. Van Hoogstraten speaks of ‘zichtkunst’ [art of sight] and ‘Deurzigtkunde’ [art of seeing through] (1678, pp. 273-276). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 276 refers to Albrecht Dürer, Hans (Vredeman) de Vries, Marolois, Guido Baldi and Desargues. He places his treatment of the knowledge of far-seeing amidst a range of light and shadow gradations, p. 243. See also Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 43-59), Vredeman de Vries, p. A. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 274: ‘schoon het in d’oogen der onkundigen als in malkander hangt’ [although in the eyes of the ignorant it all ties together]. Idem Vredeman de Vries 1968, who further refers in praise to Dürer, who ‘de reden der naturen aldernaest gheobserveert, ende met zijn vvercken oock bethoont heeft’ [observed nature’s rationality very meticulously and demonstrated this in his works]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 274: ‘hoe verre het eene ding van het ander is’ [how far away one thing is from another]; idem Vredeman de Vries 1968. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 43, 54, 55, 59). 252 288. 289. 290. 291. 292. 293. 294. 295. 296. 297. 298. 299. 300. 301. 302. 303. 304. 305. 306. Elkins 1994: p. xiii. Elkins 1994, p. 123. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 27 underline, with reference to Elkins, that Alberti often uses the metaphor as a rhetorical instrument for clarification (‘a circle is a garland’, ‘a concave surface an eggshell’, par. 4), and that on the advice of Cicero and Quintilianus. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 29. Stevin, Vande deurvrsichtighe, Book I: Vande Verschaeuwing, included in Wisconstighe Ghedachtenissen, p. 4 (PWS, p. 800). Alberti (Leoni 1755, p. 22) also points to this difference. Stevin, Vande Verschaevwing, pp 4-7 (PWS IIB, p. 806), as well as the ‘Introduction’ by D.J. Struik, PWS IIB, pp. 785-793. Stevin, Vande Verschaevwing, p. 15 (PWS IIB, p. 820) describes the refraction of water by means of a coin at the bottom of a barrel, which is first empty and then filled with water. Stevin describes in Vande Verschaevwing, p. 14 (PWS IIB, p. 818) how another ‘image’ emerges from pushing against the eye, and on p. 15 he deals with squinting. Alberti (Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 67): ‘It should be investigated why it is that when changing position, the properties that are inextricably linked to the field seem to have changed. ...now let’s find out what’s causing this...’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 54-55). Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 49): ‘Wij noemen Tekenen de sienlijcke form eenigs dings op ‘t platte uyt te beelden ...’ [We call Drawing the depiction of the visible form of any thing on the flat surface ...]. De Ville 1628, p. 6: ‘Wat de konst betreft als sy het Beelt evenwel verstaen soo moet den Schilder daerboven het verkorten weten/ het welck Sciographie of Perspective werdt ghenoemt/ ofte hy en soude gheen goede figuer op een platte forme konnen representeren’ [As for the art, to understand the Image nevertheless, then the Painter must in addition know the shortening/ which was called Sciography or Perspective/ for otherwise he could not set out a good figure in a flat form] (Kwakkelstein 1998 p. 90). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 33. Stumpel 1990A, pp. 202, 191: ‘In principle, at least, perspective furnished Renaissance painters with a method for locating the separate elements in their composition’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 75). Dunkerton 1991, p. 208 points out that what Alberti describes about the distribution of planes in paintings is very similar to what was painted in Europe at the same time, especially in 15th-century Dutch paintings. Goeree 1697, p. 62. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 24-25 point out that Alberti (for the first phase) uses an already existing perspective machine, a phenomenon that was later criticized by e.g. Da Vinci for not involving the mind. In modern literature the emphasis too is placed on the automatic reproduction of such machines, very imaginable since photography. Stumpel 1990A, pp. 197-198 concludes that Dürer’s drawing – generally understood as a representation of the instrument described by Alberti in his treatise – is an impractical device because it would generate monstrous shapes; Cole 1993, pp. 26-27. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 54): ‘Van ‘t velum ofte den gheruytte-den raem’ [Of the velum or checkered framework], with the addition: ‘doch is weynich ghebruyckelijck: want nae den gesichte behaecht mij best’ [but is little common: for following observation pleases me best]. Stevin, Vande Verschaevwing, p. 7 (PWS IIB, p. 806). Van den Heuvel 1994B, pp. 96-97. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 68-69). Stevin, Vande Verschaevwing, p. 7 (PWS IIB, p, 806). Veldman points out in her oration (p. 5) that an engraving by Cornelis Cort (after Frans Floris), entitled ‘De Geometrie’ [Geometry] (1565), has the caption ‘Het terrein van de geometrie is de afstanden der plaatsen en de hoogte, lengte en breedte der dingen te bestuderen’ [The terrain of geometry is to study the distances of places and the height, length and width of things]. 253 307. 308. 309. 310. 311. 312. 313. 314. 315. 316. 317. 318. 319. 320. 321. 322. 323. 324. 325. 326. With only five ‘gheimagineerde’ [imaginary] lines, Vredeman de Vries (1968 p. A) can determine the ‘verkortinghe in verschiet’ [shortening in the distance] op een ‘effen staende muer/ penneel ofte doeckte’ [flat standing wall/ panel or canvas]. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 50) states the same: ‘Dese linien zijn niet dan gheimmagineert ende de ghedachten inghedruckt, welcke in alle Perspektiven haer observatie moeten nemen...’ [These lines are nothing but imagined and proposed in the mind, and must be considered in all Perspektiven....]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 33. Idem Alberti (Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 85-86): ‘By the way, anyone with a good education will admit that something that has been painted can never resemble real things if the distance between the things has not been recorded according to a conclusive system’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 56-57) ends his description of his two-page procedure as follows: ‘In this fashion I find described all the parallels, that is, the square[d] braccia of the pavement in the painting’. Alberti then describes his method in Book 2. The images are explanations of later date. Vredeman de Vries primarily provides drawings with an explanation. Vredeman de Vries (Kartskarel 1979), ‘Dat is/ de hooch-gheroemde conste eens schijnende in of door-siende ooghen-ghesichtespunt’ [That’s/ the highly celebrated art of an apparent in or see-through eyesight point of view]. Vredeman de Vries draws two such points (f and c, see bp.4.30.2). Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 50). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 51): ‘Each painter, endowed with his natural instinct [it.: dalla natura; lat.: natura duce, Spencer, p. 107, n. 30], demonstrates this when, in painting this plane, he places himself at a distance as if searching the point and angle of the pyramid from which point he understands the things painted is best seen’. Vredeman de Vries gives several examples of this. Figure III, 1st part: ‘... salmen vveten dat de Perspective conste bestaet inder voegen; al vvat boven den orison oft oochlinie is, en can nietop-gesien vvorden, ende vat daer onder is, en can men oock niet onder-sien, also inde derde figure sal aengevvesen vvorden’ [It shall be known that Perspective art exists as follows; all that is above the horizon or eyeline cannot be seen from on top of it, and what is below it cannot be seen from beneath it either, as will be indicated in the third figure]. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 49). Jantzen 1979, p. 21. Hills 1987; Hall 1992. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 206-209); Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 243, 273-276; Goeree 1697; Vredeman de Vries 1968; Emmens 1964, p. 90 points to Houbraken speaking of ‘wyking’ [deviation]. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 29. Van den Akker 1991, p. 22. Stumpel 1990A, p. 205. At this point, therefore, the interpretation differs from that by Alpers. More recently, scholars have pointed out this incompability. Kemp believes that Masaccio makes a combination of ‘pragmatism’ and an ‘intuitive way’. Field, in turn, concludes: ‘If the image is not completely correct, then the elements that are correct are very likely deliberately placed like this, and therefore not the result of some mathematical construction’ in: Van den Berg 2002, p. 41. Elkins 1994, p. 55. See 4.2.2. Stumpel 1990A, p. 223. Panofsky 1959, pp. 21-50. See 4.2.2. Stumpel 1990A, p. 211. Wadum 1996, pp. 13-15. 254 327. 328. 329. 330. 331. 332. 333. 334. 335. 336. 337. 338. 339. 340. 341. Sutton 1980, pp. 22 and 40-42 emphasizes that De Hooch’s compositions are based on rules described by Alberti, Vredeman de Vries, Stevin and others. Sutton 1998, p. 40. Stumpel 1990A, pp. 203-204. In the writings by Alberti, Vredeman de Vries and Biens, this serves primarily as a set of helplines, to demonstrate the drawing method. Janson 1961, p. 431. Compared to works by Flemish artists such as Van Eyck, Memling, Patenir, Bruegel, Van der Weyde, Bouts (bp.4.93, bp.4.99.1-2, 4 and 6), his horizon is lower (where the heads of the figures are always submerged below the horizon), but not as low as in works by Rubens (bp.4.149.5), where the horizon drops far below the center. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 56-57). Ditto e.g. De Grebber 1649, rule IIII: ‘Alle gheschoorentheyt moet ghemijdt werden, dat is, de Hofden boven niet en zijn of zy met een Linie getrocken waeren, even Hoogh. Om dit te vermijdenn salmen soecken eenighe beelden te nmaeken die bocken [bukken], ofte kinderen, ofte vrouwen die wat kleynder zijn tusschen beyden voeghen’ [All cut-offs should be avoided, that is, the Heads above should not be as High as if they were drawn with a Line. To avoid this, one will try to make some figures that stoop, or insert children, or women who are somewhat smaller between them]. There is a fairly strict alternation of large and small, light and dark, square and rectangular tiles that is complicated by the use of color. Occasionally round shapes are also present. Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1996, p. 145: ‘But inside the house there was a serene peace. In scantily furnished rooms the sunlight shone on marble black and white tiles and somewhere in the house a woman was playing softly on a harpsichord. (...) Thanks to the paintings of Johannes Vermeer (1632-1675) and Pieter de Hooch (1629-1684), we can imagine a Dutch interior in the Golden Age’. For example, in his painting of the Amsterdam Town Hall, not included here. See Sutton 1998, pp. 156-159. These three ground patterns are based on an analysis of De Hooch’s oeuvre as reproduced in Sutton 1980. Because the quality of these reproductions was often very poor, I only give here the results of my research. A closer study of the paintings themselves can give a definite answer about the details of the transformation pattern. Pattern I: center plus strip in contrasting color; Pattern II: center plus two strips, where the center and the outer ring have the same color; Pattern III: the outer strip does not consist of one color, and corners and intermediate sections consist alternately of ‘black’ and ‘white’ tiles. Pattern II is an addition to Pattern I and Pattern III is an adaptation of Pattern II. Wijsenbeek-Olthuis 1996, p. 155: ‘Another aspect of the so-called typical Dutch interior should be referred to the realm of fables. Willemijn Fock has shown that the famous blackand-white tiles of the seventeenth-century genre paintings were probably rarely or never laid in houses and certainly not in living rooms. No traces of this sustainable material have been found during house research or archaeological excavations’. Steadman 2001, p. 83: ‘If the pattern of tiles is completed behind the figures (dotted lines) it becomes clear that De Hooch’s detail does not confirm to the correct perspective image of the grid’. Hollander 1990, p. 2. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 70); idem Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 33 and Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 79): ‘... ook kunstschilders in een vlak schilderij niet alle kanten van een voorwerp even goed kunnen afbeelden, en er slechts één van de belangrijkste uitkiezen waarop zij het licht laten vallen – de andere kanten laten zij in de schaduw zodat ze hooguit zijdelings aan bod komen ...’ [... even artists cannot depict all sides of an object equally well in a flat painting, and pick out only one of the most important ones on which to let the light fall – the other sides they leave in the shadows so that they are at most highlighted sideways ...]. 255 342. 343. 344. 345. 346. 347. 348. 349. 350. 351. 352. 353. 354. 355. 356. 357. 358. 359. 360. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 70-71). Angel 1642, pp. 51, 43-44: ‘ghevende aen onse dinghen, een schijn-vast-staende-standt, daer men gemeenlijck in d’onervaerne deser Konst, siet, dat haer dingen schijnen te tuymelen. Om dese mis-slaghen dan voor te komen, is een Schilder op ‘t hooghste noodigh een welgheoefent verstandt in dese Konst’ [giving to our things, a seemingly-fixed-position, where one usually sees with the inexperienced in this Art, that their things seem to tumble. In order to prevent these misfortunes, a well-trained mind in this art is highly recommended for a painter]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 33. Stumpel 1990A, pp. 190-193. Cennini writes (Thompson 1960, pp. 56-57): ‘If you want to do buildings, get them into your drawing in the scale you wish; and snap the lines. (...) And put in the buildings by this uniform system: that the moldings which you make at the top of the building should slant downward from the edge next to the roof; the molding in the middle of the building, halfway up to the face, must be quite level and even; the molding at the base of the building underneath must slant upward, in the opposite sense to the upper molding, which slants downward’. Gombrich 1983, pp. 80-152. Gombrich 1983, Panofsky 1974B; Zwijnenberg 1995A; Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996. Melion 1991. Giltaij & Jansen 1991, p. 9. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, pp. 163-164, 347, 351-352. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 26; Elkins 1994, p. 123: ‘In considering these matters, it is necessary to bear in mind that perspective constructions, and especially constructions of interiors, automatically unify the space to some degree. The very act of drawing orthogonals to a single point ensures that the eye will perceive an architectural form that we have learned to say is “unified”, that is, brought under the control of a single system of projection’. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 50). Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996), p. 49: ‘The eye, at the appropriate distances and in the appropriate media, allows itself to be less deceived in its function than any other sense, for it sees exclusively along straight lines, which form the pyramid of which the object is the base and which leads this base to the eye’. Vredeman de Vries (Karstkarel 1979) also writes about ‘de nature-reden vande vercortinghe eens rechten viercants corpus’ [the natural reason of the shortening of a straight square corpus] (for Plate I-5 and Plate I-42) or ‘volcht al de selve nature reden der voornoemde linien’ [follows the same natural reason of the aforementioned lines] (Plate I-31). Vredeman de Vries (Kartskarel1979), Plate I-36. Vredeman de Vries (Kartskarel 1979), Plate II-5. Vredeman de Vries 1968, Plate II-15 and Plate I-42. Vredeman de Vries (Kartskarel 1979) (Plate I.3, I.28, I.36; Plate II.5, II.36): ‘ghestelt in eens insiende camers met sijne vensters, aen de ander sijde ghestelt een tafel op den selven grondt, noch daer by een half openstaende deure gheteeckent’ [placed in an inward-looking chamber with its windows, with a table placed on the same ground on the other side, with another half-opening door drawn]. Vredeman de Vries (Kartskarel 1979), p. A. Stevin, Vande Verschauwing, p. 88 (PWS IIB, p. 958). A term often used by Vredeman de Vries. The Hooch’s canvases are divided into a number of planes; a ‘camber’ may consist of two fields: back wall and side wall (left/right), back wall plus floor, back wall and attic; of three fields: back wall plus floor and side wall (left/right), back wall, attic and floor; of four fields: back wall plus floor and 2 side walls, back wall plus floor, attic and side wall (left/right). 256 361. 362. 363. 364. 365. 366. 367. 368. 369. 370. 371. 372. 373. 374. 375. 376. 377. 378. 379. 380. 381. 382. About Koedijk as ‘precursor’ of De Hooch, see Hollander 1990; Sutton 1998, p. 26. The five ‘fields’ consist of: back wall, floor, attic and two side walls; the sixth wall is the ‘transparent picture plane’ of the painting itself, parallel to the back wall. Vredeman de Vries (Kartskarel 1979), e.g. Plate I-39, II-5, II-6, I-3, I-36, II-5, I-42 and I43. Garden and sidewalk belong to the house here. Paintings located ‘outdoors’ are also structured by all kinds of different fields: boundaries are defined, which vary greatly in permeability, height and material. Often such a view into ‘the outside’ is through a window and a door, thus indicated twice. Or five, when the painting of the ‘Messenger’ or of the ‘reading woman’ even the ‘seeing into’ the house ‘across’ the street ‘counted as a chamber. Here too, Sutton 1980 was the starting point for a detailed analysis. As an example of De Hooch’s ‘variation on a theme’, see paintings no. 100, no. 115, no. 135, no. 136, no. 143 and no. 144, which are not only thematically but also compositionally related. See also the series no. 98, no. 151, no. 152, no. 73 and no. 72, the series no. 92, no. 96, no. 91 and no. 93. In addition, the series no. 106, no. 105, no. 24 and no. 73, the series no. 143, no. 139, no. 102 and the series no. 96, no. 147, no. 67, no. 148, no. 86 and no. 146. Falkenburg 1998, pp. 6-7. According to Melion 1991, note 18. p. 197. For the landscape as a treatise, see Vollemans 1998. For Van Mander and the importance of his 'landscape view', see Melion 1991, p. 11. Melion discusses various optical issues, such as ‘insien’ [looking inward] and ‘doorzien’ [seeing through]. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 204-205). Translated by Miedema 1973A, p. 206: ‘naar achteren toe van weerskanten allemaal op het vluchtpunt toelopen en nauwer worden’ [backward from either side all taper together at the vanishing point and become narrower]. Translated by Miedema 1973A: ‘want het geeft een sterke ruimtelijke werking aan je achtergronden’ [because it gives a strong spatial effect to your backgrounds]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 139-140. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 138. Melion 1991, p. 11. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 139-140; Van Mander, ‘Van het lantschap’ [On the landscape] (Miedema 1973A, pp. 210-211). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 137. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 206-207): ‘Op vercorten en verminderen letten/ Ghelijck men in ‘t leven siet/ ick bespreke/ Al ist geen metselrie/ die nauwe Wetten Behoeft/ soo moet ghy doch weten te setten Op den Orisont recht u oogh’ oft steke/ Dat is/ op des waters opperste streke/ Al watter onder is sietmen van boven/ En t’ander sietmen van onder verschoven. (Op de vercorting behoeft ghemerckt); (Den Orison is, daer Hemel en water scheyden, oft somtijts daer Aerde en locht scheyden) [On shortening and diminishing pay attention/ As one sees daily in life/ I discuss/ Though it is not a masonry/ That needs precise Laws/ So you must still know that you must fix your eye or stake on the Horizon/ That is/ on the upper line of the water/ All that is below one sees from above/ And all else one sees shifted from below. (The shortening must be watched); (The Horizon is, where Heaven and water separate, or sometimes where Earth and air separate)]. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 128-129). Van Mander writes in the margin ‘Van de gronden der Lantschappen te deelen’ [On the grounds for dividing up Landscapes] (Miedema 1973A, pp. 208-209). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 243; Panofsky 1974B, p. 99. Melion 1991, pp. 64-65. Melion 1991, p. 11. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 208-211). 257 383. 384. 385. 386. 387. 388. 389. 390. 391. 392. 393. 394. 395. 396. 397. 398. 399. 400. 401. 402. 403. 404. One attaches the term ‘schilderachtig’ [picturesque] to this and I will return to this in the following paragraphs. Vollemans 1998, p. 73. Kluiver 1978, p. 56 (note 68 = IV, p. 7) points out how Cats also includes such ‘panoramas’ in his work: ‘From the beautiful description of the Zeeland landscape, where the barley can sway like a sea, where the flowering flax has a heavenly-blue color, where some pieces seem to be gilded by yellow-flowered (rape)seed, with here and there the green of the meadow, where it smells wonderful everywhere, shows that in his work as a large landowner and dike-maker, the poet had a keen eye for nature. A piece of carpet or pieces of gold leather wouldn’t be more beautiful’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 138-139. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 126. Hollander 1991. The ‘atmospheric perspective’ refers to the insight that as the distance in the open field increases, the light is absorbed, changes intensity and the blue becomes more dominant. Although this phenomenon was previously applied in the paintings, the term is linked to the ‘sfumato’ that Da Vinci applied, but also described. Carr 1992, p. 60; Cole 1993, pp. 28-29. See for instance Sutton, 1980, p. 22: ‘Light, color, and atmosphere are also determinants of perspective. De Hooch and his Delft colleagues were acutely aware of the space-defining properties of these phenomena and, in a large measure, their sensitivity to these factors marks their departure from conventional perspective practices’. Sluijter 1993, p. 50. He describes (pp. 47-50) Dou’s paintings as a registration of the incidence of light that creates the ‘illusion of space’: ‘incoming light’, light that ‘passes along the objects’, ‘which simplifies the spatial modelling and allows it to be sharply detailed’. Sutton 1984, p. 222; Kersten 1996, pp. 154, 145. Sutton 1998, pp. 120 (‘purest celebrations of the beauty of motherhood and domesticity’), p. 106 (‘intimacy’, ‘intimate activities’), p. 116 (‘tender maternal theme’), p. 164 (‘seventeenth-century literary ideals of domestic virtue’). Kersten 1996, pp. 158 and 161 (‘praise on the virtuous and industrious housewife’, ‘good example’, ‘endearing scene’, ‘the young mother’s care for the child’); Halbertsma 1991, p. 78 (‘always summer’, ‘no fire in the fireplace’, ‘windows and doors are wide open’, ‘sun and fresh air’, ‘ major cleaning’, ‘genuinely clean’); Sutton 1984, p. 220 (‘the celebration of domesticity’, ‘the mistress of the household’, ‘the housewife and mother’, ‘whitewashed walls of De Hooch’s spaces’, ‘perimeters of private life’, ‘comfortable framework for daily chores’). Hollander 1990, p. 136. Sluijter 1993, p. 56. De Jongh 1995A, p. 13. Hecht 1989. Exceptions to this are for instance Miedema 1973B, 1989B and Sluijter 1993 who treated Van Mander and Angel, among others. Alpers 1989, p. 17. Sluijter 1993, p. 56: ‘and with “nature”, he [Angel] means nothing profound’. Kwakkelstein 1998, pp. 43, 61 distinguishes, with regard to Willem Goeree’s treatise on the art of drawing, on the one hand, a ‘theoretical part of his treatise’ and, on the other hand, ‘the practical and technical part’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 25 and further 274 and 237. Hecht 1989, p. 44; Sluijter 1988, 1989, 1990, 1991, 1993; De Jongh 1995. For an overview see De Mare 1997A. Van de Wetering 1997: ‘The question remains as to why the same morality could not have been conveyed just as well with ‘centsprenten’ [cheap woodcuts], the extremely cheap 258 405. 406. 407. 408. 409. 410. 411. 412. 413. 414. 415. 416. 417. 418. 419. 420. 421. 422. color woodcuts that were also available in the 17th century. It is true that it was not possible to suggest an expression of fabric on a ‘centsprent’ – for example, satin is not depicted convincingly – but if the content of the picture is paramount, that is not necessary either’. Blunt 1978; Stumpel 1990; Gombrich 1983. Alpers 1983, p. 27. According to Alpers this is incorrect: ‘Maybe, it is thought, if we look into exactly how Vermeer laid on his paints we can locate and testify to the art in his art’. Burke 1989, p. 23. Vitruvius (VIII.5; Peters 1997, pp. 204-205). Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 49-50). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 43). Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996 p. 50). Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 46) on ‘perspective’. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 46). Blunt 1978, p. 33: ‘The first business of the painter is to make a plane surface appear to be a body raised and standing out from this surface, and whoever excels the others in this matter deserves the highest praise. And this study, or rather this summit of our learning, depends on lights and shades’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 48-49). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 71. Furthermore Van Hoogstraten (1678, pp. 257-273, 305-309). Goeree 1697, chapters 11 and 13-15. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 257 focuses his attention as follows: ‘Wy zullen overslaen wat de wijsbegeerigen van lux (licht) of van Lumen (schijnsel) zeggen, en alleenlijk van licht en verlichtinge, zoo veel het onze kunst betreft, handelen’ [We will skip what the philosophers say about lux (light) or Lumen (shine), and deal only with light and lighting, as far as our art is concerned]. Alpers 1983, p. 244, n. 38 points out that ‘lux’ (southern authors) and ‘lumen’ (northern writers) were wrongly taken apart as two theoretical approaches. The term ‘chiaroscuro’ or ‘helldunker’ is mainly associated with the bright light contrasts and dramatic effects by Caravaggio and Rembrandt; ‘sfumato’ is linked to Da Vinci in which light and dark contrasts are diminished by applying gradations in light and color. Carr 1992; Hall 1992, pp. 92-115. Gombrich 1983 points to Hellenistic paintings, the Roman-Egyptian encaustic portraits (with ‘wax’ as medium) and the atmospheric light of the Pompeian murals. Hills 1987, p. 9 notes that in the Pompeian landscape the light is ‘a source of pictorial order’ and ‘an element of the arcadian content’. The scenes and the objects in them are observed from a great distance. The orderly application, differentiation and contrast of lights and shadows generates a unifying whole in which the local colors are immersed and embedded. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 257, 263, 258; idem Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 50); Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 183). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 258: ‘want schoon de Maen, alsze vol is, de voorwerpen van bergen en landouwen bescheydelijk genoeg laet zien, wanneerze haer schone gedaente in een stille stroom afdrukt, zoo blijven nochtans de, andersins genoechlijke bosschaedien verschriklijk om aen te zien, en de heuvelen en spelonken zijn met vreeslijkheit geverwt’ [for though the Moon, when full, shows the objects of mountains and landscapes distinctly enough, when she prints her beautiful form in a quiet stream, yet the otherwise pleasant groves remain terrifying to look at, and the hills and caves are harshly colored]. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, pp. 269-277. Less frequent, but related concepts are ‘afdiepen’, ‘uitdiepen’, ‘verdiepen’ [deepening] and after 1670 in the Northern Netherlands one speaks about ‘hogen’ as well ‘dagen’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 264: ‘De schaduwe is eygentlijk niets van zich zelve, maer een dervinge, ofte niet zijn: ‘t welk den Outvader Augustinus, in zijn stadt Gods, zeer wel uitdrukt. Want, zegt hy, zoo wanneer het gezicht over de lichamentlijke gedaentens loopt, zoo en ziet het nergens duisternissen, dan ter plaetse, daer het begint niet te zien’ [The 259 423. 424. 425. 426. 427. 428. 429. 430. 431. 432. 433. shadow is actually nothing of itself, but a loss, or a not being: which the Church Father Augustine, in his City of God, expresses very well. For, he says, when the face passes over the bodily forms, it sees no darkness anywhere, except in the places, where it starts not to see]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 269. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 259 speaks (with reference to Seneca) of ‘kantig’ [sharp-edged] and ‘kanticheit’ concerning the artificially obtained shadows and distinguishes this from the sharp shadow of the sun. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 50) mentions something similar. Kwakkelstein 1998, pp. 54-55. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 262, 259. Alberti (Spencer 1966): ‘power of sight’ (p. 45), ‘light has the power to vary colors’ (p. 81); ‘force’ (p. 49); ‘strength’ (p. 84); Van Hoogstraten 1678: ‘macht’ [power], ‘kracht’ [strength], ‘heerschende lichten’ [ruling lights], ‘vermogen van licht’ [ability of light] (p. 301); ‘vermogen’ [capability] (p. 307). Goeree 1697, p. 55 (‘kracht’ [strength]). Taylor 1992, pp. 217-218 presents a modern interpretation of the power of ‘natural properties’ when he writes: ‘So “krachtig” could well be translated as forcefully three-dimensional’. Goeree 1697, p. 55 (Kwakkelstein 1998, p. 134): ‘het ware te vergeefs dat wy verder in dese onderwysinge voort souden gaen, indien dat wy eerst niet en verstaen, de kracht van Dagh en Schaduwe, ofte Doncker en Licht, alsoo der geen dingen inde natuer en zijn die sonder de selve in minder ofte in meerderheyt van ons konnen onderscheyden worden, veel min door de Teycken-konst uyt-gebeeldt werden: want sonder Doncker en Licht men daer in niets en kan doen ghelijcken, dat te wesen na welckers Wesen dat het gelijcken moet; soo dat by gevolgh den Dagh en Schaduwe, alles sijn wesen heeft’ [it would be in vain for us to proceed further in this instruction, if we did not first understand the power of Daylight and Shadow, or Dark and Light, because there are no things in nature which without them can be distinguished by us in less or in majority, and still less could be depicted by the art of Drawing; for without Dark and Light, one cannot make something be like the Being to which it must resemble; so that as a result Daylight and Shadow, provide everything with its being]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 81-82): ‘The reception of lights remains to be treated. In the lessons above I have demonstrated at length how light has the power to vary colors. I have taught how the same color, according to the light and shade it receives, will alter its appearance’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 262; idem Goeree 1697, pp. 56-57 (Kwakkelstein 1998, p. 135). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 100); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 4: ‘Dat ik ook de Zichtbare Werelt noeme, is, om dat de Schilderkonst al wat zichtbaer is, vertoont’ [That I also call the Visible World, is, because the art of Painting exhibits all that is visible]. And furthermore (p. 5), that painters are driven ‘tot het verbeelden der zichtbaerlijke dingen’ [to depict visible things]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 243. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 264-265. Van Mander (Miedema 1973, pp. 194-195, Melion 1991, p. 251, n. 55) mentions ‘Vlammen, Toortsen, brandende lampen’ [Flames, Torches, burning lamps] which are shown in paintings and Angel also points to the depiction of these subjects. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 259: ‘Zommige vuren geven dan, ‘t zy een doots, blaeuw, of een zeer gloejend licht, maer alle vuur of kaerslicht wort meest door zijn kantige schaduwe van het dachlicht onderscheiden’ [Some fires then give, either a dead, blue, or a very glowing light, but all fire or candlelight is distinguished most by its angular shadow from daylight]. On p. 262 he mentions as painters of lamps and candles Dou, but also Hans Vredeman de Vries, who in Hamburg in a chapel depicts a burning lamp (‘zoo natuerlick uitgebeelt, dat’er veel om verwed wiert, of zy niet los hing en brande’ [so naturally portrayed, that it was much bet on, that she hung loose and burned]). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 81) on the natural 260 434. 435. 436. 437. 438. 439. 440. 441. 442. 443. 444. 445. 446. 447. 448. 449. qualities of fire: ‘hoe dank zij het vuur, verschillende lichamen allerlei kleuren en andere eigenschappen kunnen bezitten’ [how, thanks to the fire, different bodies can possess all sorts of colors and other qualities]. Sutton 1980, no. 138 and no. 130. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 259: ‘Blixemen en weerlichten geven somtijts brandige, maer meest blaeuwe lichten, zwaer om uit te beelden, ‘t welk noctans van groote meesters niet ontzien is: want men vertelt van Apelles, dat hy weerlichten, Blixemen, en donderende onweeren overwonderlijk uitbeelde’ [Lightning and thunderbolts sometimes give fire-like, but mostly blue, lights, difficult to portray, which however great masters do not shy away from: for it is told of Apelles, that he portrayed thunderbolts, Lightning, and roaring thunderstorms very miraculously]. In the few scenes ‘outdoors’ that De Hooch has painted, the daylight makes everything more or less equally visible, with some shadows here and there. Kersten 1996, p. 141; Hollander 1990, pp. 29-32. This as opposed to the frontal light projection, as a spotlight on stage. On the one hand, the scene is illuminated evenly (as, for example, in some of ‘Jan Steen’s households’); on the other hand, the barrier (viewer/picture plane) is overexposed. Incoming light connected to a window or a door does not raise this boundary. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 305-306 with reference to, for instance, Pliny, Quintilian and Junius. De Mare 1993. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 264. Sutton 1980, no.157. Van Hoogstraten, 1678, p. 270: ‘Indien de Zon recht van voren in uw werk valle, zoo moeten de schaduwen over al na de steek of ‘t oogpunt loopen’ [If the Sun falls straight from the front into your work, then the shadows should run everywhere to the stick or the vanishing point]. Sutton 1984, p. 222; Kersten 1996, pp. 136, 145 and 155. See also Sutton 1980, no.135, no.100, no. 159, no. 166. Zantkuijl 1993, p. 157, confirms that from the sixteenth century onward, light is directed inward through profiling of the window frame (with an alternation of light and shadows). As an example, Zantkuijl refers to several paintings by the Hooch: ‘Woman Drinking with Soldiers’ (1658) and ‘Women Drinking with two men and a maidservant’. With the exception of one series of paintings in which De Hooch does not show ‘chambers’ (bp.4.7): although the ‘scene’ clearly takes place inside (they are considered pub scenes, populated with soldiers and servants), the chamber (indicated by ‘fireplace’, ‘wall’, or ‘panel’) has no opening windows or doors. Sometimes completely dark, or glowing because of a window in the other chamber, or even further extended by having the lit chamber preceded by a darker overflow. Sometimes mediated by a closed window, sometimes only by the coming in of light on the floor and the door. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, pp. 277-281 indicates that terms like ‘verdonkeren’ [darkening] ‘verduisteren’ [obscuring] or also ‘bruinen’ [taning] are used. Opposed to this are ‘verlichten’ [lighting] or ‘verklaren’ [clarifying] (after the French éclairer). Illuminate or explain (to the french éclairer). Furthermore, ‘verzwakken’ [weakening], ‘verflauwen’ [fading] en ‘verminderen’ [diminishing] to indicate a decrease in intensity (sporadically: ‘versmoren’ [smothering], ‘verzoeten’ [sweetening] and ‘verbreken’ [breaking]). An increase in intensity is called ‘gloeien’ [glowing] (especially with red colors), ‘versterken’ [reinforcing], ‘sterken’ [strengthening] and ‘sterker maken’ [make stronger]. And often it’s just an indication of the side chamber. Van Gelder 1998, p. 23. For a criticism of such an approach see Miedema 1989A. 261 450. 451. 452. 453. 454. 455. 456. 457. 458. 459. 460. 461. 462. See also the speculation about the bed box in the painting by Emanuel de Witte, spurred on by the clothing lying across the chair, next to the woman playing the harpsichord. Melion 1991, pp. 73-74: ‘Spiegheling, the mirroring of fully articulated images, marks the threshold at which reflection becomes representation. Implicit in the term, we have seen, is the notion that the process of imitation itself originates in nature, a point made in a Still-life by Pieter Claesz, who pictures a lemon as it is pictured by the platter on which it rests’. Sutton 1998, pp. 66-67, 148, 112 (‘sexual transgression’, ‘message of sin and forgiveness’), p. 150 (‘(homo) erotic implications’). Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 305-306. Here he explicitly refers to Rembrandt as the one who ‘deeze deugt hoog in top gevoert’ [has held this virtue high at the top] and who ‘volleert [was] in ‘t wel byeenvoegen van bevriende verwen’ [[was] fully learned in the proper assembly of friendly colors] and to Caravaggio. De Grebber 1649, rule VI: ‘Moet men wel letten, dat het licht wel met malkander ghebonden is, en niet en werdt ghevonden hier een lichtje, daer een bruyntje, soo dat het schynt dat van verder niet te zijn als placken, maer de Schilderije moet dat hebben, dat van veers, als van by, zijn gheweldt kan ghesien werden. Waer van desen reghel een van de besonderste is’ [One must be careful that the light is well connected, and not a light here, a brown there is found, so that from further away it seems to be nothing but spots, but what the Paintings must have is, that from afar, and from near, their power should be seen. Whereby this rule is one of the most important]. Angel 1642, pp. 39-40. Miedema 1973A, p. 30 and Miedema 1989B, p. 199 confirms that Angels’ remark is one of the rules of the art of painting at the time and is mentioned both in Van Mander (VII) and in Junius (III.3). But, he adds, the meaning of Angel’s ‘pompous’ remarks eludes him. Sluijter 1993, p. 47, on the other hand, is of the opinion that Dou’s work is a perfect illustration of Angel’s remark. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 67). Close 1969, p. 480 confirms this: ‘Nature is an artist. This is an idea common to all the important philosophical schools of Antiquity, and which they each to some extent develop in different ways’. Apart from that, the sun also casts blurred shadows on the wall or floor of a hat, a chair, a table or a dog. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 262: ‘Weerglans is wel eygentlijk een wederomkaetsting van het licht van alle verlichte dingen, maer in de konst noemen wy maer alleen reflectie of weerglans, de tweede verlichting, die in de schaduwe valt’ [Reverberation, though, is actually a reflection of the light of all enlightened things, but in art we only call reflection or reverberation, the second lighting, which is falling into the shadow]. Melion 1991, p. 75 points out that Van Mander understands the term ‘weerkaatsing’ or ‘reverberatie’ to mean two different things. Firstly, light effects in the dark and secondly, light effects involving similarities, as when one can recognize a specific shape in a cloud. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 266; Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 192-193). By the way, bp.4.11.2 also shows a peculiar tinted light. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 258, see also: 265, (referring to Van Mander, Miedema 1973A, pp. 182-183); Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 184): ‘In der Sonnen ondergangh sietmen blijcken Veel rooder ghecoluert diversche saken, / Soo den grondt der aerden/ steenen/ en brijcken/ Als des Menschen aensichten van ghelijcken/ Daerse de stralen der Sonnen gheraken’ [In the Sunset one sees various things appear redder colored/ such as the soil of the earth/ stones/ and tiles/ such as the face of Men seem/ where the rays of the Suns touch them]. Goeree 1697, pp. 60-61 (Kwakkelstein 1998, p. 138) mentions five points that regulate the application of ‘hoogsels’ [highlights, specularity] or points of ‘uyterste verhevenheyt’ [utmost magnificence]: they should not be applied too frequently in a painting, not too emphatically, not too close to the brown or the contour (except in the case of a particular 262 463. 464. 465. 466. 467. 468. 469. 470. 471. 472. 473. brilliance), always with sufficient distance between the lighting points and (in the case of a round plane that has to be raised strongly) one should never place them too much on the side. Smeulders 1996, p. 12-13, n. 10. He points out that in early modern painting, this connection between viewer, object and light is independent of the use of geometric perspective. Melion 1991, p. 74. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 83). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 262: ‘De Spiegeling geschiet in water, glas, metael, gepolijsten steen, en dergelijke gladdicheit’ [Reflection takes place in water, glass, metal, polished stone, and similar smoothness]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 82): ‘It is worth all your study and diligence to know how to use these two well, because light and shade make things appear in relief. Thus white and black make painted things appear in relief and win that praise which was given to Nicias the Athenian painter’. Goeree 1697, p. 56 (Kwakkelstein 1998, p. 135): ‘... want het is onmoghelijck dat een ronde kladde van eenigh Coleur van Verwe, ofte den Om-treck van eenen Circkel, een over-al uytwendigen ronden Kloot soude vertoonen, indien hem niet door Licht en Scaduw sijne Rondinge gegeven wiert’ [... for it is impossible that a round spot of any Color of Paint, or of the Outline of a Circkel, should exhibit an encompassing external round Sphere, if it were not given its Roundness by Light and Shadow]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 264: ‘Schamping is, wanneer het licht niet vlak op de dingen straelt, maer noes, gelijk langs heenen, en kan zeer bequaem in een ronde pilaer aengewezen worden: want het licht heeft alleen zijn volle kracht ter plaetse, daer ‘t allernaest is: komende door de ronde omwijking meer en meer te schampen, tot dat het zich eindlijk geheel in schaduwe verliest’ [Sliding along is, when the light does not shine flat on things, but goes past them, and can be very appropriately indicated by a round column: for light has its full force only in the place where it is closest: it comes through the round fleeing to slip further and further, until at last it loses itself entirely in shadows]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 262-263: ‘maer de dingen, die mat rul en oneffen zijn, ontfangen maer alleen een gemeene verlichting, na de verwe van‘t geen, daer zy door verlicht worden, ook na de tusschenwijte, en haere eygenschap’ [but the things that are matted, rough, and uneven, receive only a general lighting, depending on the color of that through which they are lit, also depending on the intermediate width, and its property]. Melion 1991, pp. 74-75 points out that, according to Van Mander, ‘still lifes’, ‘fires’ and ‘scenes of hell’ are particularly suitable for investigating the effect of reverberation in more artificial situations. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 51): ‘It is enough [to say] here that these reflected rays carry with themselves the color they find on the plane. You may have noticed that anyone who walks through a meadow in the sun appears greenish in the face’. However, the meaning of the terms (‘weerschijn’, ‘reflectie’, ‘weerglans’) varies, sometimes emphasizing the colored light source, sometimes the colored reflection caused by the color of the object on which the sunlight falls. Van Mander writes (Miedema 1973A, p. 199): ‘Vande Reflectie der groenheyt in den naecten, daer men in groen weyde oft hoven sittet en elders’ [From the Reflection of greenness in the nudes, where one sits in green meadow or gardens and elsewhere] (Miedema 1973A, pp. 200-201) ‘van de gekleurde weerschijn van brand op de omringende huizen en kerken’ [of the colored reflection of fire on the surrounding houses and churches]. Melion 1991, p. 74. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 263; Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 90, 135, 142). Hills 1987 and Hall 1992, by the way, state that this research only begins with Da Vinci. It then remains inexplicable that Alberti experimented with light several times. I’ll come back to that in section 4.1.3. 263 474. 475. 476. 477. 478. 479. 480. 481. 482. 483. 484. 485. 486. 487. 488. 489. 490. 491. 492. 493. 494. 495. Melion 1991, p. 60. Alpers 1989, pp. 33-34, p. 286, n. 18 (see Huygens, Dagwerck, lines pp. 550-558); Vollemans 1998, pp. 66-68. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 263: ‘al t geen, dat buiten is, in ‘t klein schilderen, doch alles het onderste boven’ [paint everything that is outside in miniature, but everything upside down]. Steadman 2001, pp. 1-3, 59; Cole 1993. Steadman 2001, pp. 3, 60, 189, n. 4. For sequential steps, see pp. 75-79. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 272 literally writes ‘Van 't beslooten of kamerlicht’ [On the closed or chamber light]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 272. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 268. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 267. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 79 and 121, n. 1) writes this with reference to this work, De Wereld of Verhandeling over het Licht. Vollemans 1998, p. 74. Sutton 1998, p. 114 alludes to this as well: ‘interest in a complex distribution of daylight within the interior’ (bp.4.17.3) and (bp.4.23.1-2): ‘In his remarkably observation of light and atmosphere, de Hooch not only records the way in which light reflects off different textures and surfaces, but also splinters and diffuses as it passes through the glass of the windows, creating, for example, intense narrow bands of light in the upper left hand corner of the room...’. Melion 1991, p. 73. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 200): ‘En de Sonne schijnt te camerwaert inne: ‘T constich graef-yser Dureri ghepresen Heeft t’ Sonne Reflecy oock aenghewesen/ In zijnen Ieronymus in de Camer/ Datmen noyt beter en sach noch bequamer’ [And the Sun shines into the chamber: Durer’s artful engraving iron be praised, Has designated the Sun Reflection also/ In his Ieronymus in the Chamber/ Which one never saw better nor more appropriate]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 272. Vollemans 1998, p. 73; Brusati 1995. Kersten 1996, p. 155: ‘bright sunlight falling in from behind’, ‘golden tone’, ‘intensity of the colors emphasized’, ‘subdued light’, ‘warm atmosphere’, ‘contrasts’, ‘half shaded parts’, ‘bright sunlight’, ‘transitions from light to dark’, ‘subtle and with great care’, ‘unmixed colors’. Sutton 1998: ‘a woman in a red, fur-lined jacket and blue skirt’ (p. 102), ‘a family dressed in modest black and white attire’, ‘yellow bricks’ (p. 108), ‘a young woman in brilliant red dress and silver jacket’ (p. 112), ‘a white cap, grey cloak, and red dress’ (p. 114), ‘whitewashed wall’ (p. 116), ‘gold embroidered bonnet, the trailing sashes and gold buttons’ (p. 118), ‘how thoughtfully he has distributed his color accents of red, blue and white’ (p. 126), ‘black and white tiled floor’, ‘elegant red and silver silk’, ‘red and white tiles’ (p. 142), ‘an officer in yellow’, ‘blue, fur-trimmed jacket and red skirt’ (p. 146), ‘pink silk jacket and light blue silk skirt’ (p. 164), ‘woman in red and silver’ (p. 166), ‘a gold satin dress, red coat, pearl earrings’ (p. 176). Sutton 1998, p. 140. Sutton 1998 (pp. 16-20, 88-99) places the undated works in the early fifties, when De Hooch leaves Rotterdam for Delft. Haak 1984, p. 443: ‘predominantly brownish yellow coloration’; Kersten 1996, pp. 133, 145 ‘brown and dark tones’. By the way, the technicolor had already been introduced in the American feature film around 1935. Monaco 1984, pp. 520-521. Poppe 1991, p. 248. Frijhoff 1992B, p. 6; Pleij 1994, p. 14; Eco 1981, 3. Frijhoff 1992B, p. 6. Anthropological studies confirm that languages always referred to ‘white’ and ‘black’. In case of a third color, it was ‘red’. Only then are ‘yellow’/’green’ and 264 496. 497. 498. 499. 500. 501. 502. 503. 504. 505. 506. 507. 508. 509. 510. 511. 512. 513. finally ‘blue’ mentioned, according to Ferwerda 2001, p. 9. For the Middle Ages, black and blue become, writes Pleij 1994, pp. 54-55, ‘the colors of distinguished silence, distancing and, above all, withdrawal from an uncontrollable publicness’. Yellow is, according to Pleij 1994, p. 66 in the Middle Ages a sign of doom. Baxandall 1986, p. 39; Tan 2000, pp. 7-10, Bordwell & Thompson 1997, p. 32. The signal effect of red and white undoubtedly has a biological basis, given the color of some valuable life fluids – such as blood, milk, seed, etc. For the medieval ideas that colors are ‘important carriers of meaning’, Pleij 1994, pp. 17-23, pp. 26, pp. 49-52. Baxandall 1986, pp. 39-42; Eco 1981, pp. 3-16. Just like the other words of a language, see Poppe 1984, pp. 63-67, Eco 1981, pp. 7-14. Ferwerda 2001, p. 10. Ferwerda 2001, pp. 11-12. By the way, there is not so much a single antique standard as a system in which the various (natural philosophical) views are embedded. Pleij 1994, p. 76; Frijhoff 1992B, p. 6, all with reference to the work of the historian Michel Pastoureau. De Kuyper 1985B, 1986B; Poppe 1984, 1991; Baxandall 1986. Hall 1992, pp. 1-2 points out that modern science defines color in three variables: color, value and intensity with the most well-known form being the ‘color chart’ used in the design of a new interior: it offers paint mixtures and color combinations. Mitchell 1992, pp. 86-115: ‘Digital Brush Strokes’; Druckrey 1995. At the end of the nineteenth century, after French academism, color again became a factor that matters. From Impressionism to Bauhaus, color plays a prominent role. By the way, Huizinga’s sensibility for the pregnant medieval colors (‘s Levens felheid, Autumntide of the Middle Ages, 1919), fits into that same pattern. See e.g. Gage 1993, 1995, 1999. Apart from the inevitable remarks about Rembrandt, Hals and Vermeer, only seventeenth-century scholars such as Kepler and Newton with their color systems are treated. Brusati 1995, pp. 251 and 52-217 (chapters ‘Self-Making and Self-Representation’, ‘Art as Self: trompe l’oeil’ and ‘Self as Eye: the perspective box’). For Michelangelo, see Hall 1992: ‘significant a pioneer in color’ (p. 123), ‘opened up new vistas of opportunity for color never before glimpsed’ (p. 128), or Dunkerton 1999 (about his only completed panel painting: ‘an unsurpassed level of refinement’ (p. 248). Cennini (Thompson 1960) is mostly conceived as a practical manual for paint recipes. Hall 1992, pp. 14-29 and Hills 1987 indicate that his color system reaches further. Panofsky 1971, p. 57 points out that in the fourteenth century the common protein is being replaced. Red pigments became more transparent by adding egg yolk, blue pigments by adding the recently imported Arabic gum. Furthermore (Panofsky calls the Boucicaut Master, who was employed by Charles VI at the end of the fourteenth century) experiments with color gradations (the depiction of the sky becomes less uniform, as well as objects at different distances), the so-called ‘atmospheric perspective’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 335-339; Biens (De Klerk 1982), chapter 11 ‘Naerder beschrijvinghe der water- ende oly-verwen’ [Detailed description of water and oil paints], pp. 55-56. Dunkerton 1999, Van de Wetering 1997. Interesting in this context is the recently published study by Van Eikema Hommes (Van Santen 2002) in which, in contrast to far-reaching technical research into colors, she examined sources in which painting techniques were discussed. By studying texts from different parts of Europe as part of the same thought about painting and from the same practice, she was able to discover a coherence from which modern chemical analyses can be interpreted. 265 514. 515. 516. 517. 518. 519. 520. 521. 522. 523. 524. 525. 526. 527. 528. 529. 530. 531. 532. Henny 1994, p. 45 mentions the raw materials lapis lazuli (Afghanistan), azurite (Hungary) for ultramarine; scale insect (East Asia, America) for carmine red, ochre species (Siena, England, Crete, Germany), resinous gum (Cambodia, East Asia). Hills 1987, Hall 1992, Dunkerton 1991, 1999. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 84) does not consider the description of pigment deposits (other than Vitruvius VIII.7-14) to be his task. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 56):’ Ick verswijghe hier het kostelijck ultramarijn-blaeu, dat tot locht, verre landtsschap en cleederen boven alle andere schoon ende onbesterfelijck ghehandelt kan werden: want also ‘t selve seer dier is, wert by veelen weynigh ghebesicht...’ [I keep silent here the precious ultramarine blue, which can be used for the sky, distant landscapes and clothing above all other beauty and eternity; for because it is very expensive, it is little used by many....]. This is called ‘glacis’ respectively ‘opaque’. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, pp. 256-257: ‘het door coloreren uitgedrukte begrip zou alleen kunnen vervangen worden door substantieven als kleurenharmonie, kleurenkeus, kleurgeving of kortweg kleuren’ [the concept expressed by coloring could only be replaced by nouns such as color harmony, color choice, coloration, or simply colors]. The X-rays mentioned by Sutton 1998 were made to show the ‘pinhole’ (Sutton 1998, pp. 40-41) and to trace the ‘pentimenti’ [overpaintings] (Sutton 1998, pp. 54 and 48). Van de Wetering 1997, Groen & Hendriks 1993, Groen 1991. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 49), ‘there is a close relationship between light and color in making each other visible. (...) for when light is lacking color is lacking and when light returns the color returns’. ‘Gheen sienlijcke dingen en zijn onverwich’ [No visible things are uncolored], Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 268). Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 216-219. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 267-270), twice in the margin: (Alles heeft zijn verwe van Gode [Everything has its color from God]) and (verwen zijn met des weerelts schepsel te voorschijn ghecomen [Colors have emerged with the creatures of the world]). Miedema 1973A, p. 266 translates: ‘alles wat het oog binnen zijn gezichtsveld kan omvatten’ [everything that the eye can encompass within its field of vision]. Miedema 1973A, p. 266 translates: ‘Hoe kan de oorsprong van de kleuren overvloediger blijken?’ [How can the origin of the colors be more abundant?]. Van Mander writes (Miedema 1973A, p. 275): (Vande schoonheyt der ghesteenten [Of the beauty of the stones]) and (Van de schoonheyt des nieuwen Ierusalems [Of the beauty of the new Jerusalem]), (Hier wordt ten lesten de verwe ten Hemel gevoert [Here at long last the color is brought to Heaven]). In the Middle Ages, the spiritual conception of the divine focused more on the invisible world, see Stuip & Vellekoop 1998; Van Run 1994. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 268). Van Mander (Miedema 1973, p. 271). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 247-252), Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 302-303 (with reference to Van Mander). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 55). As an example of context-determined color, he points out that girls who all seem blond in Spain would be called black and dark in Germany. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 248 and 251). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 248, 188, 191) mentions ‘purper’ [purple], ‘incarnatich’ [flesh color], ‘lacke wittich’ [white lacquer], ‘orangiachtich of root’ ['orangelike or red], ‘masticot gheel’ [masticot yellow], ‘groen’, [green], ‘asuer’ [azur blue]. Idem Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 304: ‘purper, paers, oranje of helder root, En geel, en groen, tot blaeuw in ‘t purper stoot’ [purple, violet, orange, or bright root, And yellow, and green, till blue bumps on the purple]. By the way, Van Hoogstraten (1678, p. 304) points out that 266 533. 534. 535. 536. 537. 538. 539. 540. 541. 542. 543. 544. 545. 546. 547. 548. 549. 550. 551. Descartes’ observation confirms this: ‘purperroot’, ‘inkarnaat, oranje, geel’, ‘groen, blaeuw, en asgraeuw’ [purple-red, incarnate, orange, yellow, green, blue, and ash gray]. When Van Hoogstraten takes another good look he distinguishes ‘purper’, ‘paers’, ‘roodt, geel, groen, blaeuw, en paersachtig’ [purple, violet, red, yellow, green, blue, and purplish], en dan opnieuw ‘geel, groen, en purper’ [yellow, green, and purple]. Vermij 1999, p. 97. Jacob Cats (ADW II, p. 519) understands the rainbow as confirmation of the new covenant after the Fall, but he distinguishes only red, blue and green as meaningful colors. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, pp. 257, 268: ‘sorteren’ [sorting] is ‘bijeenschikken [arranging] and samenschikken [arranging together] or te samen schikken van kleuren [arranging colors together], and also schakeren [shading] belongs to this series of notions. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 302-303 (with reference to Van Mander), p. 188 (about the blue in peacock feathers); Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 271). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 50). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 259). Grebber, Triomftocht met vaandeldragers en krijgsbuit (376 x 203 cm, dated 1648), Grebber Triomftocht met beeld van Jupiter (380 x 246 cm, dated 1650), in: Blankert 1999, pp. 140-142. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 235 and 264. Van de Wetering 1997, p. 187. Van Mander writes in margin (Miedema 1973A, p. 248): (Aen de Bloemen, verwen sorteren leeren [How the Flowers, learning to sort colors]); (Het sorteren, oft bedeelen der verwen, aen alle geschapen dinghen te mercken [Sorting, or dividing the colors, to all created things to be noticed]); (natuere wijst het sorteren der verwen [nature points out how to sort the colors]). And on p. 247: (Exempel Glycera, die de Bloem-kransen fraey sorteerde [Exemple of Glycera, who sorted the Flower-wreaths beautifully]). Van Hoogstraten, p. 231: ‘Als den boomgaert, wit van bloisem, overvloet van fruit belooft, laet u dan, ô Schilderjeugt! door geen vadzige vaek dien onwaerdeerlijken tijd ontsteelen, maer begin dingen die noit te vooren gezien zijn. Schilder my dan de groente, daer den dauw afdruipt, en de versche bloemen na ‘t leven uit; gy zult kleuren vinden, die noit Schilder te werk ley’ [If the orchard, white with blossom, promises abundance of fruit, then, O young painters, don't let lazy sleep steal that priceless time, but start things that have never been seen before. Paint me then the vegetables, where the dew drips off, And the fresh flowers following life; You will find colors, which never a Painter put to work]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 241. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 84). Melion 1991, pp. 90-91 explains what Van Mander understands by ‘natuerlijk malen’ [painting following nature]: ‘Nature diversifies herself by disseminating saturated colors, which remain differentiated even when massed (...) Van Mander concludes (...) by enjoining the aspiring painter to learn the art of distributing pigments from nature’s floral displays’. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 248). Alberi (Spencer 1966, p. 50); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 220. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 49, 104-105, n. 23). Gage 1993, pp. 29-30, Ferwerda 2001. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 284); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 220. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 220-222; Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 284). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 284); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 223 too makes a connection with the seven ‘trappen des ouderdoms’ [stages of old age]: white (up to 7 years), blue (up to 15 years), golden yellow (up to 20 years), green (up to 30 years), red (up to 50 years), purple (up to 70), black (up to death). See also Spies 1985. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 220-222. Henny 1994, pp. 43, 46-50 mentions the coarse grinding of the raw materials in paint mills and then making them small in mortars and crushing them on a porphyry stone. Then the 267 552. 553. 554. 555. 556. 557. 558. 559. 560. 561. 562. 563. 564. 565. pigment powder had to be ‘washed and prepared with linseed oil or gum into a spreadable oil- or watercolor’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 218. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 223-224. White is more often mixed (see e.g. bp.4.24.1). Deep black is seen more often (bp.4.12.4, bp.4.22.2). Only once ‘green’ (such as a curtain, bp.4.23.2) and ‘purple’ (girl’s jacket, bp.4.23.3) have been painted, and they have probably been mixed together. Gage 1993, p. 153 points out that although the trio ‘yellow, red and blue’ was not new in the seventeenth century (Giotto already used them), it ‘became a central principle of color-organization among painters in many parts of Europe’. This effect of ‘stand-alone field’ in these examples remains even when the pigments are ‘tempered’ with white or black. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 222. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 191). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 225: ‘Men heeft deurgaens een doordringende kracht van opletting van noden, om de dingen in hare juiste en onbesmette breekinge der koleuren wel na te speuren, en die met onze verwen te verbeelden’ [One usually needs a penetrating power of observation, in order to trace things in its correct and uncontaminated breaking of colors, and to depict them with our colors]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 49). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 220: ‘De Hooftkoleuren zijn zeven, en de planeten toegeeygent; maer de verwen, die wy daer toe hebben, zijn onbepaelt in ‘t getal’ [The Principal colors are seven, and attributed to the planets; but the colors, which we have for that purpose, are indefinite in number]. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 55): ‘Naedien elcke verwe sijn besonder natuyre heeft, is noodigh gheweeten (indien men wat besonders wil tekenen, wasschen, verlichten oft schilderen) hoe men de selve sal bereyden’ [Because every color has its special nature, it is necessary to know (if one wishes to draw, wash, illuminate or paint something special) how one shall prepare them]. Biens refers for further information to Geraert ter Brugghen, ‘t Constverlichtery Boeck [The Book of the Art of Using Colors] tot Amsterdam printed by Harmen Alertz Koster. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 220. Henny 1994; Hall 1992; Hills 1987. Both in Vermeer and Leyster, this technique has been the subject of technical research, while there are seldom any clearly defined underdrawings. In the fresco technique, however, they are a prerequisite in view of the rate of drying, which requires clearly defined fields that are then colored in. Groen & Hendriks 1993, p. 102: ‘Research makes it clear that Leyster built up her composition using planes in the underpainting, applied thinly on the light primer. Light and dark planes of the background were first captured in the underpainting, around the space she reserved for the figures. Vrolijk gezelschap bears witness to this working method, where the planes of the underpainting, which are visible through the background, form the contours of the most important figures. In this painting, as in others, she did not strictly adhere until the finished painting to the space initially reserved for the figures. In the seventeenth century, the process of applying light and dark fields locally, which could later pass on their color or tone to the layers above, was known as ‘doodverven’ [dead-coloring]. Thus, this ‘underpainting’ helped to determine the final color impression. For Vermeer see Wadum 1995B, pp. 8-15. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 223. Hall 1992, pp. 15-16: ‘These painters understood very well that when pigments are mixed they lose some of their brilliance and become duller, and that therefore only unmixed pigments could produce the effect of jewel-like sparkle they preferred and sought. They avoided physical mixtures whenever possible and used them only when there was no 268 566. 567. 568. 569. 570. 571. 572. 573. 574. 575. 576. 577. 578. 579. 580. 581. 582. 583. 584. 585. 586. 587. alternative. Flesh and landscape greens were mixed, and because there was no such pigment, purple’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 225. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 224 and 299. Groen 1991, p. 117 comments on the green: ‘In the case of Rembrandt, Jacob van Ruisdael, Frans Hals, Pieter de Hooch, Albert Cuyp and many others you will always find a mixture of blue and yellow and also in some of the flower painters’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 224-5. Cennini (Thompson 1960, pp. 45-47, 93-95). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 263): ): (Op’t leven sal men acht nemen, in ‘t carnatie coloreren [One will follow life, when coloring fleshly]) and (Elck te coloreren, nae hy veel in de locht oft uyt is [Each to color, according to whether he is much in the air or outside]); p. 264 (Vleesich colorere [Fleshly coloring]) and (Masticot in carnatie te mijden [Avoiding Masticot in fleshly color]); Angel 1642, p. 54: : ‘Sy doet Ten eersten, wech-nemen de graeuwe vaelligheyt; Ten tweeden, de groene oneyghentlickheydt: Ten derden, de wreede steen-achtigheyt, ende gheeft in plaetse van dese verachte onaerdigheden, dese groote gheachte natuyrlickheden; te weten, een vleyssigh, en vel-achtigh colour’ [First, it takes away the gray pallor; Second, the green impropriety: Third, the cruel stoniness, and gives in the place of these despised impieties, these great prized naturalities, namely, a fleshy and skin-like color]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 226. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 227. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 226-228. Van Mander writes that the color of the flesh must be observed ‘in de natuur’ [in nature] because it will differ with farmers who are more sunburned. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 228. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 228. For Rembrandt, see Van de Wetering 1997, pp. 155-190; for Vermeer, see Wadum 1995B, p. 13 (Girl with the pearl earring): ‘The skin, the so-called “incarnaat”, has an underpainting in creamy white in the light parts’. Leyster applies the flesh color to an often light grey undercoat, which gives it a cool hue. Reddish flesh ‘on the other hand, has been set up using a fairly thin, even layer of light orange underpainting’ (Groen & Hendriks 1993, p. 103). Hall 1992, p. 16. Hall 1992. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 50). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 50). Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 83-84). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 83). Van Mander discusses the tempering of saturated pigments in Cap.7. fol 31 (Miedema 1973A, p. 191) when working on both wet lime and oil paints. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 306 (incidentally with a critical remark about the Italian use of mezzo shades on the back plan and dark shades on the front plan). Sutton 1998, p. 167. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 308; De Grebber 1649 mentions as a rule XI: ‘Naer de verschietingh der beelden moeten zy stercker oft flaeuwer ghehouden werden: dat is, soo veel als zy verliesen door verkleeningh, soo veel nae advenant zy verflaeuwen van koleure oft sterckte’ [In pictures, when they disappear into the distance, they must be kept stronger or weaker: that is, as much as they lose by diminution, so much do they fade correspondingly in color or strength]. Smeulders 1996, see section 4.1.2. 269 588. 589. 590. 591. 592. 593. 594. 595. 596. 597. 598. 599. 600. 601. 602. 603. 604. 605. 606. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 82). Hall 1987, p. 16. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 85): ‘Again we see in a plane panel with a gold ground that some planes shine where they ought to be dark and are dark where they ought to be light’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 85). Idem Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 280-281). Hall 1992, p. 47 says something similar, but puts a slightly different emphasis: ‘Burnished gold, used to lavishly both as background to signify the celestial sphere, and as ornament, was fundamentally at odds with the new perspective space because it removed the painting from the natural world’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 84). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 84). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 263). By the way, Alberti does not mean, as Henny 1994, p. 46 thinks, ‘that if white paint were as precious as precious stones, the value of art would be much higher’. On the contrary, Alberti writes that when white paint was as expensive as precious gemstones, painters would apply this color with more care in their paintings. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 306-307. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 307. The many tiles in De Hooch’s paintings are certainly not as black and white as people think. The buttons on the garment lying over the fence not only have white spots (dots, dashes), but underneath there is another (half round) black stripe to accentuate the ‘convex’ character. With special thanks to Thomas who saw this first. Taylor 1992, p. 217. Hall 1992, p. 95. ‘It is a system that used color in a frankly artificial way, without dark monochrome for the shadows. Cangiante modelling is achieved by shifting from one hue to another. Starting from the dark, the lights are provided by a contrasting hue paler in tone; the midtone may be either the dark pigment, paled with some white, or the light pigment in its pure form, or a third color. Effects similar to cangianti can be created by juxtaposing two fields of contrasting color that have little or no intentional modeling. When speaking of cangiantismo as a mode, we do not imply that the hue must shift in every modeling sequence’. Van de Wetering 1993B, pp. 28 and 33. For Gerard Dou see Hecht 1989, p. 57. Van de Wetering, 1993B, p. 33. Van de Wetering 1993B, p. 35. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 53): ‘... want de fluweelen moeten gantsch anders gheschaduwet zijn als laken, linnen ende dierghelijcke. Wederom sijden, gantsch anders als andere stoffen, in voeghen datmen elck, volghens sijn glants en fijnigheyt moet trachten uyt te beelden ‘t welc alles in ‘t leven selfs best kan bespeurt ende nae goede meesters wercken geleert werden’ [... for velvets must be shaded very differently from cloth, linen and the like. On the other hand, silks, wholly different from other substances, in that one must try to portray each, according to its brilliance and fineness, all of which can best be observed in life itself and learned in following the works of good masters]. Van de Wetering 1993B, p. 35. Blue-red: bp.4.10.2 (jacket young woman, behind the table); bp.4.22.1 (jacket of the seated woman); blue-yellow: bp.4.18.3 (petticoat girl); bp.4.14.1 (petticoat girl); bp.4.23.3 (petticoat girl); bp. 4.10.4 (jacket of the standing woman: more blue, with yellow folds); blue-orange and orange-green: bp. 4.12.4 (seated woman). Miedema 1973A, p. 241 translates it as ‘changeants of kleurcombinaties’ [changeants or color combinations]. Van Mander (Miedema 1973, pp. 240 and 243). Miedema’s translation reads (pp. 241-242): ‘het is wel nodig dat men in zijden stoffen met changeants altijd hoogsels aanbrengt [in 270 607. 608. 609. 610. 611. 612. 613. kleur] die de aangrenzende kleur het best verdraagt, opdat ze elkaar niet tegenwerken. Zo verdragen lakken [rood, hdm] goed lichte blauwen en de smalten [blauw, hdm] verdragen goed lak met wit. Lichte masticot kan goed naast groen staan; as met wit laat zich goed schaduwen met schietgeel, purper [laat zich] met blauw of rood en de verschillende halftinten laten zich [met] heldere [kleuren] goed hogen. Dat moet men op velerlei manieren uit proberen’ [it is necessary, however, that in silk fabrics with changeants one should always apply highlights [in color] that the adjacent color best tolerates, lest they clash. For example, lacquers [red, hdm] tolerate light blues well and the smalts [blue, hdm] tolerate lacquer with white well. Light masticot can stand well next to green; ash with white shades well with yellow, purple [shades] with blue or red, and the various half-tones raise well [with] bright [colors]. One must try that out in many ways]. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 243). De Lairesse (about the ‘changeant-fabrics’): ‘Uit kracht dan van deze toevallen is men genoodzaakt lappen van byzondere stoffen te hebben, welke ons deze onderscheidentheden aanwyzen: want niemand in de waereld is machtig dit van buiten te leeren, om dat het zo naauw luistert’ [Given this coincidence it is necessary to have sheets of special material which show us these distinctions: for no one in the world is capable of learning them by heart, because they are so sensitive], cited by Van de Wetering 1993B, p. 32. See also note 602 on Biens. Angel 1942, p. 55; idem Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 239 en 243). Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 237-238. See Emmens 1964; Vollemans 1998; Van de Wetering 1997; Fuchs 1978. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 238: ‘hoe traegelijk hy met zijn penseelen handelde, jae het scheen in ‘t eerst dat hy moedwillens den tijdt verquiste, of niet en wist, hoe te beginnen: en dit quam, om dat hy eerst in zijn inbeelding ‘t geheele bewerp van zijn werk formeerde, en in zijn verstandt een schildery maekte, eer hy verw in ‘t penseel nam’ [how slowly he handled his brushes, yea it seemed in the beginning that he wilfully wasted time, or did not know, how to begin: and this was, because he first in his imagination formed the whole plan of his work, and in his mind made a painting, before he took paint on the brush]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 237-238: ‘want hij zijn geheel paneel in ‘t gros overzwadderde, hier licht, daer donker, min noch meer als eens veel verwige Agaet, of gemarbert papier, bestont allerley aerdige een veelverwige koddigheeden daer in te zoeken, die hy met weynig moeiten en veel kleyne toetsjes kenlijk maekte, zoo dat ginder een aerdig verschiet, versiert met boere gehugten, zich opdee; hier zagmen een oude steevest met poort en waeterhooft voor den dag komen, en in ‘t aenkabbelende water wederglanssen, scheepen en schuiten, met vragt of reyzigers belaeden, af en aen’haelen, en in ‘t kort zijn oog, als op het uitzien van gedaentens, die in een Chaos van verwen verborgen laegen, afgerecht, stierde zijn hand en verstandt op een vaerdige wijs, zoo datmen een volmaeckte Schildery zag, eermen recht merken kon, wat hy voor hadt’ [Because he painted his whole panel in a loose way, here light, there dark, more or less like a multicolored Agate, or marbled paper, he went looking for all kinds of nice and multicolored funny things in it, which he made known with little effort and many small brushstrokes, so that over there a nice vista, decorated with peasant hamlets, presented itself; here one saw an old city fortress with gate and waterfront come to the fore, and reflect in the rippling water, ships and barges, laden with freight or passengers, coming and going, in short his eye, directed to watch for shapes hidden in a Chaos of colors, steered his hand and mind skilfully, so that one saw a perfect Painting, before one could really see what he had in mind]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 237: ‘stelde een tamelijk grooten doek op zulken Ezel, en, de hand of ‘t penseel tot zijn wil hebbende, begon dapper te schrijven, dat is, op een aengewende wijze te schilderen, dat al wat hy ter needer zette, gedaen was; want lucht, verschiet, geboomt, gebergt, en stuivende watervallen, vielen uit zijn penseel, als de 271 614. 615. 616. 617. 618. 619. 620. 621. 622. 623. 624. 625. 626. 627. 628. 629. 630. 631. letteren uit de pen van een bladtschrijver. Hy sloeg zijn bladerwerk en spartelende groente op een gezette wijs; de zwadderige wolken dreeven hem als van de hand, en de klipachtige rotsen en oneffe gronden wierden als uit zijne verwen gebooren’ [set a fairly large canvas on an easel, and, having the hand or brush at his will, began bravely to write, that is, to paint in an employed manner, so that all that he put down was finished; For sky, vistas, trees, mountains, and steaming waterfalls, fell from his brush, like the letters from a writer’s pen. He reported in a determined manner of his foliage and floundering vegetables; the loose clouds drifted from his hand, and the cliff-like rocks and uneven lands were born as from his colors]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 237. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 238, p. 240-241. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 234-235: ‘bekreun u weynich met een handeling of manier van schilderen te leeren, maer wel, om gestadich in de opmerking vaster te worden, ende deelen der konst wel te onderscheyden, en met wakkerheyt nae te volgen. Zoo zal de hand en ‘t penseel het oog onderdanich worden, om manierlijk de verscheydenheyt der dingen, elk nae zijn aert, op ‘t zwierichst uit te beelden’ [complain little about learning a handling or manner of painting, but rather, to become steadily more firm in observation, and to discern the parts of the art well, and to follow them with diligence. Then the hand and the brush will become obedient to the eye, to depict the variety of things, each according to its nature, decently and as gracefully as possible]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 240, resp. 234. Melion 1991. Later in Holland he also observed Rembrandt and his last pupil Arent de Gelder who exploited the texture of oil paint. The thickness of the oil paint varies, he sometimes works in still wet paint of an undercoat, paints with his fingers or scratches paint away with a sharp object. Van de Wetering 1998, pp. 19-35. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 337. Van de Wetering 1997, p. 175: ‘Paintings are generally hung and viewed in such a way that the paint surface does not shine, in other words, that the light striking them does not bounce back into the viewer’s eyes. On the sloping “wals” of the relief of an impasto passage, however, the paint always reflects the light to a certain extent, considerably enhancing the brilliance of that passage’. According to Angel 1642, p. 53. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 235. Van de Wetering 1997. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 307-308. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 239. Van de Wetering 1997, p. 161: ‘This admiration for the fact that a convincing depiction of reality could also be achieved with a rough peinture shows that the paramount criterion was illusionism’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 235. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 236. Groen & Hendriks 1993, p. 108. Van de Wetering 1997, pp. 163 and 158. Van de Wetering 1997, p. 163. Usually, Rembrandt's work is contrasted precisely with fresco painting, given his color and paint treatment, and as a contrast to the disegno that has primacy in it. Van de Wetering 1997 also adheres to this demarcation. On p. 189 he writes: ‘However, his [Rembrandts] work is also characterized by that “boldness” mentioned at the beginning, that attitude which Vasari calls ‘spirit and charming and vivacious style’ when he quotes Michelangelo on Titian. A place had been allotted to artists of this kind in the theory of art throughout Europe in the seventeenth century ... Speaking of the Venetian followers of Titian – Tintoretto and Veronese – Bernini said that they ‘and some other modern artists have 272 632. 633. 634. 635. 636. 637. 638. 639. 640. succumbed to a free or wild manner of painting’ Rembrandt can certainly be classed in this category...’. For ‘disegno’, see section 4.2.1. Van de Wetering 1998, p. 21. Taylor 1992, pp. 210-232, Taylor 1995, pp. 77-114. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, pp. 268-269 points out that arranging the colors is ‘of the utmost importance to the painter’. This refers to ‘the addition of one or more colors to one or more other (or to things of a certain color), whereby she also refers to Van Hoogstraten’s term ‘houding’ [pose]. Taylor 1995: ‘illusion of three-dimensional depth’, ‘accurate rendition of spatial relationships through color’ (p. 192); ‘creating a sense of space in a picture’; ‘spatial relations should be clearly legible’; ‘an illusionistic space will be opened up in which the eye can roam’ (p. 212); ‘to create a sense of space’ (p. 213); ‘a plausible illusion of spatial relationships’ (p. 214); ‘an apparent space’, ‘a plausible illusion of three dimensions’ (p. 215); ‘the sense of three-dimensional differentiation’, ‘the three-dimensional effect’ (p. 217); ‘forcefully three-dimensional’ (p. 218); ‘the three-dimensional solidity’, ‘appearance of plausible three-dimensional construction’, ‘to traduce three-dimensional reality in order to create a plausible illusion of space on a two-dimensional surface’ (p. 219); ‘the illusion of three dimensions is to be produced on a two-dimensional surface’ (p. 220); ‘interest in three-dimensional construction’ (p. 221); ‘the necessity of correct spatial construction’ (p. 223); ‘a pleasing and effective evocation of space’ (p. 224); ‘the necessity of creating a plausible illusion of space’ (p. 226); ‘to impress a sense of deep space on the viewer’, ‘thus emphasizing the continuity of the pictorial space with that of the viewer’ (p. 227); ‘the sense of space’ (p. 228); ‘a pictorial space’, ‘a successful three-dimensional effect’, ‘to produce a legible space’; ‘to produce a space that seemed as if it were accessible with one’s feet’ (p. 232). Sutton 1998, p. 42: ‘It was well understood by seventeenth-century artists and theorists that value and hue were essential components of spatial organization and construction. For De Hooch’s contemporaries the term to describe the overall management in a painting of these subtle distinctions and registers on light and color was houding. (...) De Hooch’s comment of houding in his revolutionary Delft-period must have much impressed his colleagues’. Taylor 1992, p. 222 refers to Vasari, among others, who uses the term ‘unione’ which Taylor understands as equivalent to ‘houding’. But on p. 223 he writes: ‘So here we have a word which pre-empts a number of the concerns of ‘houding’. Like ‘houding’ it includes the notion of harmony – ‘è una discordanza di colori diversi accordati insieme’ – and, also like ‘houding’, it alludes to the necessity of correct spatial construction: ‘rilievo e forza terribile’. But there are differences. (...) for Vasari, and for the writers who came in his wake, ‘unione’ was associated with a highly-finished style which displayed imperceptible gradations of light and shade. As such it was opposed to the manner of artists like Tintoretto, Bassano and Schiavone, where light passages could be directly juxtaposed with areas of dark, no attempt being made to draw the two together gradually’. Hall 1992, p. 95 points out that ‘unione’, alongside ‘sfumato’ and ‘chiaroscuro’ is one of the modes of painting developed in the Renaissance: ‘The unione mode aspires to the same balance and dynamism in color that the classical style of the High renaissance achieves in all other regards, while respecting the preference of the central Italian for lively color. In the unione mode the painter selects his tones for their harmonious interaction, calculating the attraction of each color field and matching it to its role in the narrative’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 302. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 302, 303: ‘by een schikken der verwen’ [arranging of colors]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 302 writes: ‘Pausias, de Sicioner, vond de Tuilster of bloemverkoopster Glycera hier zoo aerdigh in, wanneerze haer kransjes, festoenen en ruikers vlocht, dat hyze daerom tot zijn Meesteres verkoos’ [Pausias, of the school of Sicyon, liked the Bouquet or flower-seller Glycera so much in this, when she wove her 273 641. 642. 643. 644. 645. 646. 647. 648. 649. 650. 651. wreaths, festoons and garlands, that he therefore chose her to be his Mistress]. Although Van Mander does not speak of ‘tuilkunst’, he mentions the same example of the girl Glycera (Miedema 1973A, pp. 247-248), see note 539. Taylor 1995, p. 92: ‘Indeed, Hoogstraten called the art of mixing colors de Tuilkonst, the Art of Garlanding’. Vitruvius (VI.7: Peters 1997, p. 185): ‘When painters recorded such objects that were delivered to guests in a still life, they called them xenia (guest gifts)’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 303: ‘Want men hadt de gewoonte, als vrienden elkander vergasten, eenige bakskens of korfkens met fruit, of ander min gemeene dingen, sierlijk op gehoopt en schilderachtich geschakeert, aen malkanderen te schenk te zenden; welke men Xenia of gastgaven noemde: die somtijts zoo kunstig deur een gemengt waren, dat zy de kunst scheenen uit te tarten’ [For it was the custom, when friends received each other as guests, to give each other some trays or baskets of fruit, or other less common things, elegantly piled up and picturesquely arranged; which were called Xenia or guest gifts: which were sometimes so artfully mixed together that they seemed to defy art]. Taylor 1995, p. 83: ‘The concept of ideal art affected flower painting in two opposing ways. First, flower painting, like the other minor genres, was considered inferior because it was painted nae ‘t leven, from the life, or from the motif, without idealizing its subject matter. This completes the triad of reasons why still life was considered a lowly genre. It was too easy, being a mere mechanical reproduction of appearances, devoid of the judgement, taste, and dramatic sense needed for history painting; it rendered inanimate objects, which lacked the soul necessary to partake Divinity; and it painted things as they were, without idealizing them. Conversely, the second way that the notion of ideal art affected the floral still life was that some flower painters apparently did try to idealize their motifs’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 82): ‘I certainly agree that copiousness and variety of colors greatly add to the pleasure and fame of a painting’ and pp. 84-85. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 84-85). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 278. Compare Emmens 1964, p. 75. Although at that time the term ‘houding’ [pose] had not yet been researched, he also points out that the term is related to terms such as ‘kracht’ [strength] and makes a qualitative statement about ‘koloryt’ [coloration] and refers to the harmony in the skillful placement of the colors. Taylor 1992, p. 217 summarizes here what De Lairesse says about color values. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 301: ‘... maer het behoort voornamentlijk tot de Houdinge, dat men verscheyde lichten, en verlichte dingen tegen elkander wel vergelijkt. Indien eenich naeckt of lywaet, daer geen flikkerende glansen in te verwachten zijn, de klaerste dingen in uw werk zijn, zoo moogt gy ze vry met al uw macht op ‘t allerverlichtste uitbeelden. Maer indien’er spierwitte Satynen, blinkent gout of zilver, vyer of vlam ontrent is, zoo moet gy de kracht van uwe verwen in deze groote glanssen alleen op ‘t alderhelderst te werk stellen: houdende de rest zoo veel sommerder, als zy in licht van deze heerschende lichten verschillen’ [... but it belongs especially to the Pose, that one compares different lights and illuminated things with each other. If a nude or linen, in which no twinkling sparkles are to be expected, are the brightest things in your work, then you may depict them unhindered with all your strength at the very brightest. But if there be muscle-white Satins, shining gold or silver, fire or flame in the neighbourhood, then let the strenght of your colors be at its brightest in these great sparkles: and keep the rest so much gloomier, to the extent in which they differ compared to these prevailing lights]. Van Mander speaks several times of ‘sorteren’ [sorting] (e.g. Miedema 1973A, p. 251). For Stevin, see section 2.2.1. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 300. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 300: ‘Wy zullen onder haer opzicht dan van de samenstemmende kracht beginnen. Deeze eerste begrijpt in zich een gelijkmaeticheyt in klaerheyt en 274 652. 653. 654. 655. 656. 657. 658. 659. 660. 661. gloejentheyt, waer uit dan een byzondere zachticheyt volgt, die aen het werk een wonderlijk vermogen toedeelt. (...) De zachtigcheyt van samenstemmende kracht is als een band van ‘t geheele werk, en wort daeromme binding genoemt’ [We will then begin under her supervision [Thalia] with the harmonizing strength. This implies, first of all, an evenness in brightness and incandescence, from which then follows a special softness, which confers on the work a miraculous capability. (...) The softness of harmonizing strength is like a bond of the whole work and is therefore called binding]. Goeree 1697, pp. 128-129. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 225. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 305. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 305. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 241, 304-305. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 225: ‘Maer veele heben zich, met een verdorven oog, tot groen, geel, blaeuw of gloeyend roodt, jae tot zwart schilderen begeven. Andere hebben hare tronyen blozend, als ofze gevild waren, gemaelt. En andere wederom hebben ‘t wit schilderen als een schoonen vond om de juffers aen te haelen aengevangen. Maer de zuivere natuerlijckheit zal alle valsche vonden verbluffen en verdueren. Zeker, het wel koloreeren is zelf veel groote meesters te zwaer van gewicht geweest: want schoonze wel raed wisten, om haeren hoogen geest in teykeningen los en aerdich te betoonen, zoo is den zelven wel slaperich geworden, en half in de verwen versmoort, eerze iets, dat de natuer geleek, konden op ‘t Tafereel brengen: waer over veele als wanhoopende zich alleen een wijze van koloreeren gewenden, om haere Teykeningen in Schildery te brengen; zonder op eenige natuerlickheden te letten, als of de kolorijt hun niet aenginge’ [But many, with a depraved eye, have turned to painting green, yellow, blue, or glowing red, yes to black. Others have painted their tronies blushing, as if they had been skinned. And others again have begun to use white painting as a nice invention to lure the damsels. But pure naturalness will astound and resist all false inventions. Certainly, coloring itself has been too heavy a weight for many great masters: for though they knew how to make its high spirit in drawings loose and kind, yet the same has become drowsy, and half suffocated in coloring, before they could bring anything resembling nature to the Tableau. so that many desperate people apply themselves to a manner of colouring, in order to be able to make their Drawings into a Painting; without paying attention to any naturalities, as if the colouring did not concern them]. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, p. 255 points out that this term is used (for instance in the case of Goeree) to indicate filling in with colors, where ‘the paints’ are the direct object. Judith Leyster also used ‘striking colors’ for garments in genre paintings, which was hardly possible in portraits. (Hendriks & Groen 1993, p. 111). Clothing of female characters: bp.4.9.3 (red jacket (white border), blue skirt); bp.4.20.1 (yellow jacket, blue skirt, white apron, brown sleeveless jacket); bp.4.20.4 (yellow jacket (white border); dark skirt, red apron); bp.4.17.3 (grey jacket (white border), red skirt (yellow border); bp.4..18.2 (red jacket (blue sleeves), blue skirt, dark apron); bp.4.18.3 (light blue jacket (white border), red skirt, yellow apron); bp.4.9.2 (black jacket, red skirt, white apron); bp.4.21.2 (light jacket (white cuffs), blue skirt (white border), black apron); bp.4.14.1 (light yellow jacket, red skirt (yellow border), blue apron); bp.4.20.2 (black jacket, red skirt / white blouse, blue skirt, white apron, yellow sleeveless jacket); bp.4.23.3 (red jacket (white border), black skirt); bp.4.22.2 (black jacket, red skirt (yellow border), white apron/white blouse, dark blue skirt (yellow border), light red apron); bp.4.10.3 (light blue jacket (white border), red skirt, white apron); bp.4.10.4 (blue jacket (red band), yellow skirt, white apron); bp.4.22.1 (white blouse, blue skirt (shiny border), yellow sleeveless jacket); bp.4.24.1 (red jacket (white band), yellow skirt, white apron). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 231. 275 662. 663. 664. 665. 666. 667. 668. 669. 670. 671. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 276, 279, 280, 283). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 283). Several authors confirm that the medieval symbolic meanings of colors is a conventional matter. Hall 1992, Hills 1987. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 220. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 220 and 223. Van Hoogstratens enumerations are taken from Van Mander. Both point out that it are colors that cover the fields of coats of arms. Red: ‘hoogheyt en koenheyt’ [majesty and pride] (p. 220), ‘bloetrijk’ [rich in blood] (body), fire (element), summer (season), up to fifty years (age), ‘liefde’ [love] (virtue) (p. 223). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 284285): ‘hoochheyt/ en coenheyt moedich’ [majesty/ and pride courageous]. Blue: ‘kennisse en getrouwicheit’ [knowledge and faithfulness] (p. 221), ‘galachtich’ (body) [bile-like], air (element), autumn, sometimes together with red (season), 7-15 years (age), firmness, righteousness (virtue) (p. 223). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 284-285): ‘trouwheyt/ en wetenschap bedreven’ [faithfulness/ and skilled in science]. Black: ‘zwaermoedicheyt’ [melancholy] (body), ‘aerde’ [earth] (element), winter (season), ‘dood’ [death] (age), wisdom (virtue) (pp. 220-122, 223). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 284-285): ‘slechtheyt/ en druck/ die in t’ hert heeft wonste’ [badness/ and pressure/ which has in its habitation in the heart]; p. 220: White: ‘onnoozelheit, zuiverheit, en waerheyt’ [ignorance, purity, and truth]; ‘koutvochtich’ [cold-moist] (body); water (element); up to seven years (age). Green: ‘jeugd, schoonheit, vreugd en onverdorvenheit’ [youth, beauty, joy and unspoiled] (p. 221), spring (season), twenty to thirty (age), ‘sterkheit’ [strength] (virtue) (p. 223). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 284-285): ‘schoonheyt/ goetheyt/ en vreucht’ [beauty/ goodness/ and joy]. Purple and silver: ‘hoop’ [hope] (virtue) (p. 223). Violet: ‘troost van liefde’ [comfort of love] (virtue) (p. 222), ‘weerschijn aen de getempertheit’ [reflection to the temperedness] (p. 223). Van Mander: ‘Purper overvloet/ Gods en s’Menschen jonste’ [Purple abundance/ God's and man's affection] (p. 284); ‘t Silver puerheyt en gherechticheyt/ en coenheyt moedich’ [the Silver purity and righteousness/ and pride bravery] (Miedema 1973A, p. 284). Van Hoogstraten 1678: Gold/blue: ‘beduit ‘t gebruik van ‘s werelts lust’ [signifies the use of the pleasure of the world] (p. 222), gold/grey: ‘zorgvuldicheyt’[care] (p. 222), orange/green:‘meld hoop en vrees’ [reports hopes and fears] (p. 222). See also Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 276). For Alberti, see (Spencer 1966, p. 130, no. 83) who points out that colors evoke emotions. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 221; idem Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 275). Melion 1991, p. 96 summarizes this for Van Mander as follows: ‘All races, he states, acknowledge the force and attractiveness of colors, but the Javanese experience black as joyful, white as sorrowful, while the Inca, who cannot conceive how the Spanish communicate by writing in black on white, chronicle their past by knotting colored threads into patterns Europeans fail to understand’. Incidentally, Van Mander derived this knowledge from a book he translated, De Historie, van de Nieuwe Weerelt’ [The History, of the New World] by Hieronimus Benzoni (Venetië 1565). Melion 1990, p. 99 gives a slightly different explanation of this issue, namely that this chain of associations also incites contemplation about ‘representation’: it is in fact nothing more and less than yellow paint that incites to this: ‘Each of these operations is different yet prototypical: paint represents gold, gold resembles sunlight, and sunlight signifies God. By modulating from pigment to the likeness of gold, the painter negotiates an analogical process, which the modulations from metal to light, and from light to the condition of divinity, emulate rather than duplicate’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 222: ‘Gy moet, nevens de kennisse der Verwen, ook iets van haere beduidingen weeten, om of ‘t u voorviel in verzieringen en zinnebeelden, door de 276 672. 673. 674. 675. 676. 677. 678. 679. 680. 681. 682. 683. 684. 685. koleuren der kleederen, uw uitbeeldingen te bekrachtigen’ [You must know, in addition to the knowledge of colors, something of its meanings, so that when it comes to you in adornments and allegories, you can validate your portrayals by the colors of the clothing]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 223. For the (unknown) family portraits, see Kersten 1996, p. 156; Sutton 1998, p. 142 mentions ‘Musical family’ (1663); for ‘Portrait of the Jacott-Hoppesack Family’ (1670) see Sutton 1998, pp. 170-171; ‘Portrait of a Family in a Courtyard in Delft’ (1657-60), see Sutton 1998, pp. 108-109, suggesting that it concerns De Hooch’s ‘in-laws’; ‘Family portrait on a Terrace’, see Sutton 1998, p. 44. Sutton 1998, p. 30, Van Thienen ca. 1945, pp. 26-30 and Kersten 1996, p. 138 point out (following in the footsteps of art historians such as Valentiner and Bode) that it is possible that certain figures can be identified as De Hooch’s wife, Jannetge van der Burch and two of their children, Pieter (born 1655) and Anna (born 1656). Sutton 1998, p. 30; Kersten 1996, p. 138. Schama 1989, pp. 397-399: ‘mother’, ‘child’, ‘nanny’, et cetera; Haak 1984, p. 443: ‘soldiers’, ‘civilians’, ‘wealthy citizens’, ‘the housewife’, ‘children’, ‘companies of a few persons’; Kersten 1996: ‘industrious, virtuous mother’, ‘elegant, well-dressed companies’, ‘the girl’, ‘the man’, ‘the figures’, ‘both men’, ‘woman’ (p. 1). 145); ‘maid’, ‘the persons’ (p. 146); ‘richly dressed men’, ‘young women’ (p. 148); 'boy' (p. 154). Sutton 1998: ‘woman’, ‘child’, ‘maidservant’, ‘mother’ (p. 100), ‘gentleman’, ‘man’, ‘officer’, ‘old woman’, ‘small dog’, ‘mixed company of four people’ (p. 112), ‘an infant’ (p. 120), ‘a soldier’ (p. 126), ‘a young boy’ (p. 136), ‘the father’ (p. 142), ‘the son’ (p. 142), ‘a richly dressed couple’ (p. 160). As Franits writes 1993, p. 102 (Sutton 1980, no. 115): ‘Pieter de Hooch depicts a similar scene in a painting in which a mother pauses from feeding her child in order to inspect a large flatfish held by her maid. The vendor, a fishwife, waits in the background by the entrance to the dwelling. A recent suggestion that the motif of the fish is an erotic metaphor seems dubious; more than likely, it serves to demonstrate the women’s virtue as a circumspect housewife who carefully chooses the “best buys” for her family. Moreover, the fact that the maid shows the fish to her mistress illustrates what contemporary viewers would have perceived as their proper working relationship’. Such as Sutton 1998, pp. 68-75, Franits 1993, pp. 102, 118 (bp. 4.15.1). Hollander 1990, pp. 79-80. Möbius 1987, pp. 80-81. Möbius 1987, pp. 81-82. According to Franits’ interpretation, see Bleyerveld 1995, p. 184. McNeil Kettering 1993, p. 99. She mentions (p. 124) Laura Mulvey, Tanja Modleski and Mary Anne Doane. For a critical analysis of feminist psychoanalytic film theory, see De Mare 1986A, B and C, 1987 and 1990B and C. De Grebber 1649: ‘beeld’ [image, picture]; Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 52): ‘lichaem’ [body], ‘beeldt’ [image, picture]. Goeree 1697, pp. 107-108, ‘Handelende vande Partyen en Generaalheden’ [Dealing with the Parties and Generalitie]. In the edition of 1668 (Kwakkelstein 1998, p. 132) Goeree speaks of ‘samen-ghevoeghde dingen’ [merged things] that exist ‘in eenighe deelen, welcke te samen door de Correspondentie diese met malcander hebben, een generale Klomp uytmaecken’ [into any parts, which together by the Correspondence they have with each other, make a general Lump]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 26-27: ‘Volchde dingen, niet alleen, zoo gy die voor u ziet, maer onderzoekt zelf, waer in derzelver deucht bestaet. (...) Ontwerp het geheel van ‘t geene gy voor hebt, eerst in zijn groote zwier, op uw papier: en schift dezelve wederom in grootachtige gedeeltens, ‘t zy gy een beeld in hooft, armen, lichaem, en benen verdeelt, of verscheyde beelden in groepen onderscheyt, neem naerstich acht, hoe veel ‘t 277 686. 687. 688. 689. 690. 691. 692. 693. 694. 695. 696. 697. 698. 699. 700. 701. 702. 703. 704. 705. eene gros van ‘t ander in groote verschilt, en wat sprong en zwier alles te saemen maekt’ [Do not only follow the things as you see them before you, but examine them yourself to see wherein their virtue lies. (...) Plan the whole of what you have before you, first in its large draft, on your paper: and again separate them into large portions, be it that you divide a picture into head, arms, body, and legs, or distinguish several images into groups, observe closely how much the one differs from the other in size, and what leap and sway all together makes]. Kersten 1996, pp. 136, 148, 162, 143. Van den Akker 1991, p. 10 has pointed out (following Gombrich) that since the fourteenth century, drawing true-to-nature motifs for the purpose of assembling a composition has become more important. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 18. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 139 also: ‘Tre dan, ô Schilderjeucht! ten boschwaert in, of langs de heuvelen op, om verre verschieten, of boomrijke gezichten af te maelen; of met pen en krijt de rijke natuer in uw tekenboek op te gaeren. Val aen, en betracht met stadich opletten u te gewennen noit vergeefs op te zien; maer, zoo veel de tijdt, of uw gereetschap, toelaet, alles als op te schrijven’ [Go then, O Painter’s Youth! into the woods, or up along the hills, to paint distant vistas, or scenes full of trees; or with pen and crayon collect the rich nature in your drawing-book. Attack, and endeavor with diligent attention to accustom yourself never to look in vain; but, as much as time, or your tools will allow, to write down everything]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 140: ‘want het ooge des konstenaers moet de dingen ook zelfs uit haere oorzaken kennen, en van de zotte waen des gemeenen volx vry zijn’ [for the eye of the artist must know things even in their causes, and be free from the foolish delusion of the common folk]. Blunt 1978, p. 34. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 139. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 163-164 and 230. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 69-70, 33, 217. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 18. The examples he gives are scattered throughout his writings, occasionally they are assembled, such as ‘Van allerley Huisraet’ [About all kinds of Houseware], Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 161-163, or 153-161 on weapons. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 18. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 69. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 70; Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 91-92). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 95). Op p. 68: ‘Since paintings strives to represent things seen, let us note in what way things are seen.’ See also Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 140, n. 113. Blunt 1978, p. 34 writes that otherwise ‘his imitation of nature would be incomplete’. Blunt 1978, pp. 37-38. Vollemans 2000, p. 45. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 26-27. He describes how pupils learn to ‘kopieeren’ [copy] paintings (with paint), which he refers to as ‘iet vlaks op een vlakte nae te maken’ [copy something that is flat on a flat plane]. Alpers 1983, p. 40: ‘Their term naer het leven (after life) and uyt den geest (from the mind or spirit), as employed by Van Mander and other northern writers who came after him, do not involve distinctions between real and ideal, between physical and mental, but rather distinguish between different sources of visual perception. (…) naer het leven refers to everything visible in the world …’. See note 711. 278 706. 707. 708. 709. 710. 711. 712. 713. 714. 715. 716. 717. 718. 719. 720. 721. 722. Melion 1991; Goeree 1697, pp. 107: ‘Alsmen dan yets nateikenen sal, het zy na Teikening, rond Boetseerzel, of Natuurlijk Leven, ofte Schilderye...’ [If one shall then draw something, either following the Drawing, a round sculpture, or the Natural Life, or a Painting ...]. Van Hoogstraten 1678; Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 94-95). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 95). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 139. Blunt 1978, p. 90 confirms something similar for Vasari: ‘The study of nature is not therefore an end in itself, but a means to efficiency in drawing from memory’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 93): ‘He who dares take everything he fashions from nature will make his hands so skilled that whatever he does will always appear to be drawn from nature’. Alpers 1983, p. 40: ‘… uyt den geest refers to images of the world as they are stored mnemonically in the mind’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 95); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 191. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 93); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 36. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 35, referring to P.C. Hooft who employs the term in his verse on the judgment of Paris. Alpers 1960 points out that Vasari’s remarks about Michelangelo belong in a context in which the progress of the art of painting is thought in terms of the completed perfection of representation techniques on the one hand and the endless progress of inventions on the other. Michelangelo’s perfection of the nude relates to the perfect technical perfection it achieves (and which cannot be developed further afterwards), which is separate from finding new subjects, which continues unceasingly. Schmidt 1985, p. XII. For the (Greek) term ‘genius’, see Miedema 1973A, p. 355: ‘that power which on its descent through the spheres of heaven, before birth, provides the soul with the gifts of nature (...) these gifts consist of spirit (Lat. ingenium) and lust (inclinatio)’. Alpers 1983, p. 40. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 26; Vels Heijn & Schatborn 1991, p. 31. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 92). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 89-99) calls the art of drawing the ‘father’ of painting, Goeree 1697, p. 1 speaks of ‘Baarmoeder en voedster aller konsten en wetenschappen genaamd worden’ [Be called the womb and nourisher of all the arts and sciences]. Vels Heijn & Schatborn 1991, p. 31 interpret the training as described in the treatises as an ideal conception in which classical Italian theory and Dutch practice come together. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 217. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 26; Vels Heijn & Schatborn 1991, p. 27 quoting Van Hoogstraten: ‘De Teykenkonst is de waere tuchtmeesteres onzer konst, en wie van haere leering niet en deurweekt is, raekt lichtelijk in ‘t wilde’ [The art of Drawing is the true mistress of the discipline of our art, and he who is not imbued with its teachings becomes slightly bewildered]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 36. For, ‘dat van sommige gedreven wort, datmen, sestien, achtien, ja twintich jaeren behoorde te teykenen, zonder tot het pinseel en de verwen te komen, is een uitsporige dwaesheyt’ [that some insist that one should draw for sixteen, eighteen, yes twenty years, without coming to the brush and colors, is an excessive foolishness]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 68). Same as Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 28: ‘Als gy nu uwe Teykeningen opmaekt, die door de netter schetsingen alreets een gedaente hebben, zoo zie toe, dat gy niet wederom buyten spoor geraekt, geeft de buytkanten haer eygene zwiertjes, niet met een omtreck, die als een zwarten draet daer om loopt, maer wijs met een luchte hand stuk voor stuk aen’ [Now when you make your Drawings, which already have a shape because of the neat sketches, see to it that you do not get off track again, gives the outsides 279 723. 724. 725. 726. 727. 728. 729. 730. 731. 732. 733. 734. 735. 736. 737. 738. 739. 740. 741. 742. her own sway, not with an outline, running like a black thread around it, but pointing with a loose hand everything piece by piece]. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 65 translate it as ‘outer contour’, ‘horizon’, ‘hem’, ‘edge’; Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 27: (‘Bootsen of Schetsen, in ‘t gros’ [Shaping or Sketching, in general]). Goeree 1697, pp. 107-109: ‘(Sonder ‘t Generaal wel in agt te nemen, kan geen ware gelijkenis gemaakt worden [Without paying close attention to the General, no true likeness can be made]). Daar is niets dat gelijken kan te wesen, het gene dat het is, of dat het zijn moet, sonder d’omtrek van sijn generale klomp’ [There is nothing that can be equal, that which is, or that which it must be, without the contour of its general lump]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 44): ‘... the outermost boundary which encloses the plane and may be terminated by one or more lines’. Goeree 1697, p. 107: ‘Men moet haar dan voor eerst doen begrijpen, dat alle lichamen, het zy Menschen beelden, Dieren, Boomen, enz. in haar geheel zijn samen geset uyt eenige deelen of partyen, die door haar geschikte aan-een-knoping dieze met malkanderen, en tot bevestiging van haar figuur hebben, een generale klomp of lichaam uytmaken; en in ‘t beschouwen of by ‘t geheel, of by haar deel, van ons gekend en onderscheiden worden’ [It must then first be made to understand, that all bodies, whether images of Men, Animals, Trees, etc., are composed in their entirety of some parts or parties, which by their suitable concatenation which they have with each other, and to confirm its figure, make a general lump or body; and in considering, whether of the whole, or of its part, be known and distinguished by us]. Goeree 1697, p. 108; Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 27; Alberti says something similar in another context (Van den Akker 1991, pp. 101-102). Alberti (Spencer 1966), p. 68; Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 27-28. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 27. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 70). Goeree 1697, pp. 108-109. Van den Akker 1991, pp. 100-101. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 43-44). In Book I Alberti investigates the effect of light on objects. An object is visible through three kinds of rays. The external beams mark the boundary of the object, the intermediate beams transport color and light and when the central beam is perpendicular to the object the size of the object is maximally visible. Using these concepts, Alberti is able to describe how a concave and a spherical body can be made visible by means of different light and dark spots. However, the change is due to a variation in the distance from the eye to the object (a greater distance reduces both sharpness and color intensity), or to a change in the positioning of the light source (the size of the part exposed decreases). Alberti points out that by experimenting this power of light can be proven. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 70). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 45); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 29. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 44, 45). Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 70, 72); Van Mander devotes chapter 5, ‘Vander Ordinanty ende Inventy der Historien’ [On the Arrangement and Invention of the Histories] (Miedema 1973A, pp. 126-157); Van Hoogstraten discusses ‘ordineeren’ [arranging] in the fifth chapter Thalia’ (1678, pp. 172-213); Goeree 1697, p. 48 also speaks of ‘ordineering’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 72). See Kersten 1996 (no. 156, p. 160; no. 157, p. 161; no. 159, p. 164). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 72). Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 176-177. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 182; Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 72-73). 280 743. 744. 745. 746. 747. 748. 749. 750. 751. 752. 753. 754. 755. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 184 (on Vitruvius VII.5). Cennini, too, argues that arranging parts should first and foremost lead to ordinary and not monstrous figures, according to Van den Akker 1991, p. 73. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 299. describes how Zeuxis artfully composed this creature ‘De vergadering der twee lichaemen is niet bottelijk al teffens afgescheyden, maer van verre beginnende ontsteelt zich uit d’oogen der aenschouwers, en smelt zich al dieflijk ‘t een in’t ander’ [The union of the two bodies has not diminished bluntly, but beginning from afar, it escapes from the eyes of the beholders, and unexpectedly melts one into the other]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 75). Blunt 1978, p. 37. Section 2.2.1. Alberti (Spencer 1996, p. 72). Van den Akker 1991, p. 19 points out that in addition to his knowledge of pigments and paint mixtures, Cennini (1390) also writes about composing bodies from building blocks. He devotes ‘separate chapters to recipes for making figures, trees and plants, mountains and buildings’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 72). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 73): ‘Before dressing a man we first draw him nude, then we enfold him in draperies. So in painting the nude we place first his bones and muscles which we then cover with flesh so that it is not difficult to understand where each muscle is beneath’. Van Mander, ‘Analogie Proportie, oft maet der Lidmaten eens Menschen Beelts’ [Analogy Proportion, or measure of the Limbs of an Picture of a Man] speaks of ‘Proporty, oft ghelijckmaticheyt puere’ [Proportion, or pure evenness] and ‘Een seker over-een-coming der leden’ [Some similarity of members] and namely as a ‘schoon heerlijck cieraet in der Natuere’ [beautiful, delightful jewel in Nature] (Miedema 1973A, pp. 107-108). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 107); Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 72-73) considers it more dignified not to take the foot as unit of measurement, as Vitruvius proposes (IV.1.), but the head. However, Vitruvius (III.1) does mention the head as unit of measurement. See also Stevin in this case, see Chapter 2. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 60 refers to Dürer’s proportional system, but also to Vitruvius’ rule that the head is one tenth of the whole body. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 73). Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 67) confirms that the drawing of the human body is part of the teaching he receives from Hendrik Hondius: ‘Hij placht namelijk volgens een niet te verwerpen methode de onderdeelen van het menschelijk lichaam elk afzonderlijk in zijn eigen afmetingen en ook nog op iets grooter schaal te laten uitteekenen. Daarna bracht hij al die studies bijeen en leerde ons om een jongen, daarna een geheel mensch, ten slotte drie of vier tegelijk op een blad voor te stellen, terwijl hij ons tot in den treure dit liedje voorzong, dat het vrijwel onmogelijk was om een levend wezen, als het noodig was, op een kleinere schaal te construeeren, wanneer men niet eerst door deze ontleedkundige voorstudie een nauwkeurige kennis had verworven van al de ledematen afzonderlijk’ [He used to have the parts of the human body individually drawn in their own dimensions and also on a slightly larger scale, according to a method that cannot be rejected. Then he brought all these studies together and taught us to represent a boy, then a whole human being, finally three or four at a time on a sheet, while he was ceaselessly reciting to us this song, that it was almost impossible to construct a living being, if necessary, on a smaller scale, when one had not first acquired by this dissecting preliminary study an accurate knowledge of all the limbs separately]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, ‘Van de ontleeding; en eerst van ‘t geraemt’ [On dissection; and first of the skeleton], p. 52. Goeree 1697, pp. 27-31 ‘Van de Anatomye, ofte kennisse der inwendige en uytwendige gestalte des Menschelijcken Lichaems: Aengaende de Musculen, 281 756. 757. 758. 759. 760. 761. 762. 763. 764. 765. 766. 767. 768. 769. 770. ende beweginge der Spieren, &c.’ [On Anatomy, or the Knowledge of the Internal and External Shape of the Human Body: Concerning the Muscles, and the Motion of Muscles, &c]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 52: ‘Want wie heeft tijd of lust om, aengaende de menschlijke ontleeding, al de schriften van Vezalius, Laurentius, of Kabrolius, te deurkruipen?’ [For who has time or desire concerning human dissection, to wrestle through all the writings of Vezalius, Laurentius, or Kabrolius?]. Van den Akker 1991, p. 210. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 297; Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 52): ‘Laet oock voor alle dinghen de tronien neffens de leden verscheyden affecten uytdrucken van droefheydt ofte vreuchde, haet, torn, ‘t lachen, ‘t cryten, ende soo voorts nae sulcks de gheleghenheydt presenteert’ [For all things also let the faces next to the members express various affects of sadness or joy, hatred, wrath, laughing, crying, and so on according to what the occasion presents]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 74). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 121 ‘... zoo moet ik dit noch van de beenen zeggen: dat haer werk is het lichaem te draegen, en dat zy in gaen, staen, loopen, tillen, reiken, jae zelfs in zitten en leggen, zich nae ‘t bovenlijf voegen’ [... so I must still say this about the legs: that its work is to carry the body, and that in going, standing, walking, lifting, reaching, yes even in sitting and lying, they conform to the upper body]; Biens (De Klerk 1982.p. 52): ‘Eyndelick vermijdt alle lammigheyt en strammigheydt der lede-maeten, stelt de handen wacker als grijpende, de tronie ter zijde hangende na de werckinghe die ‘t beelt doet’ [Finally avoiding all lameness and stiffness of limbs, set the hands diligently and grasping, the face hanging aside according to the working which the picture/ statue does]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 74): ‘For this reason, all the members ought to conform to a certain appropriateness’; Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 53): ‘Voorts moet men op de contenantien, gesten ende affecten der beelden wel letten, om alles met een bysonder gratie te maecken’ [Furthermore, one must pay close attention to the attitudes, gestures, and affects of the images, to make everything with a special grace]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 74); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 182. Da Vinci (Blunt 1978, pp. 35-36): ‘Let the movements of an old man not be like those of a youth, nor those of a woman like those of a man, nor those of a man like those of a child’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 73); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 293: ‘Want het voegt niet, dat men van wel opgebrachte Juffertjes Appelteeven maekt, hoewel zelfs in d’alderruwste noch iets van haere kunnen deurschijnt, ten waere men verwilderde Amazoonen, of Helsche Razernyen voor had’ [For it is not fitting that well brought up young women should be turned into quarreling bitches, although even in the roughest of them something of her ability shines through, unless one has to do with savage Amazons, or Infernal Rages]; De Grebber (Blankert 1999), rule X: ‘De werckinghe vande beelden moet oock waerghenomen werden, dat is dat elck beeldt sijn werck doet, niet dat een Soldaet treedt in de werckingh van de Monnick en soo sedigh staet, en weder de Monnick schijnt een Soldaet te zijn, maer elck zijn ghelegentheydt van werckingh als de sin mede brenght, soo moeten de werckinghen uyt vallen’ [The working of the images must also be observed, that is that each image does its work, not that a Soldier enters into the working of the Monk and so stands demure, and vice versa the Monk seems to be a Soldier, but each has its disposition and working which brings knowledge, and so the workings must come out]. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 52); Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 80). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 74). Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 73-74); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 296. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 92). Roodenburg 1995, p. 436. Roodenburg 1993B, p. 164. 282 771. 772. 773. 774. 775. 776. 777. 778. 779. 780. 781. 782. 783. 784. 785. Roodenburg 1993B, p 160. As accepted or studied by (art and literature) historians, publications such as those of Bremmer & Roodenburg 1993, Pleij 1982, Roodenburg 1993A and B, 1995, De Jongh 1986 and many others. Van Mander refers, for example, to Castiglione, Il Cortegiano (lib. 3, fol.121), in his ‘Vander Actitude, welstandt, ende weldoen eens Beeldts’ [On the Attitude, Well-Balancing, and Well-Doing of an Image] (Miedema 1973A, p. 124). Panofsky 1971, p. 22; for Warburg, see Van Huistede 1992. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 53): ‘de stellinghen ende den welstandt niet alleen der menschen beelden, maer oock beelden van beesten ende voghels, d’uytbeeldinghe der cleederen, tegenglans en dierghelijcke’ [the positioning and the well-balancing not only of the images of human beings, but also of images of beasts and birds, the depiction of clothing, reflections and the like] and ‘behaeghelijcken wel-staende der uyt ghebeelde figuren [pleasing well-balancing of the depicted figures]; Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 296: ‘Laet het gewicht en tegenwicht in uwe beelden in de waeg houden, gelijk den stok aen den Koordansers, op datze in alle beweegingen, ‘t zy staende, of steunende bestaen mogen, ten waere in ‘t loopen of vliegen’ [Let the weight and counterbalance in your images be held in the balance, like the stick of the tightrope walkers, that they may exist in all movements, whether standing, or supporting, or as in walking or flying would be]. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 115-116). Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 292-299. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 292. Applying a plumb line can keep the human figure upright, according to Goeree. Goeree 1697, pp. 78-79. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 52): ‘Welstandt eenes beeldts’ [Wellbalancing of an image]: ’t Lichaem als hier vooren gheseyt is aldus uytswengende aen een zijde ghestelt zijnde, gheeft altijdt de last-draegende zijde den hooghsten schouder ende bij aldien een arm om hooghe moet reycken, soo laet het desen van den hooghsten schouder zijn stelt dien arm vor, welckers been achter wiens been voorstaet om alsoo u postuyre cruys-wijs te vertoonen, ghelijck dit mede in beesten hier plaetse heeft, ende in de natuyre staet te bemercken’ [The Body as stated above is thus placed swinging out to one side, always giving the load-bearing side the highest shoulder and thus with an upward reaching arm, so let it be the highest shoulder with the arm to the front, whose leg is behind the front leg, so as to exhibit your figure crosswise, as it also takes place in animals, and can be observed in nature]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 79). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 293: ‘Dat men geen geweldige beweeging aen zijn beelden moet geven, als’er maer een maetige vereyscht wort. Plutarchus bestraft beyde Schilders en Beelthouwers, en hy wijst aen, dat het onmaetich uitstrekken, het wijt stappen, en het mond opsperren niets groots in zich heeft’ [That one should not give a great movement to his pictures, if only a moderate one is required. Plutarch punishes both painters and sculptors, and he points out, that the immoderate stretching out, the wide stepping, and the gaping mouth have nothing great in them]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 80). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 103). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 294. This corresponds (although with a different accent than usual) to the term ‘sprezzatura’ – ‘onbekommerde gratie’ [unencumbered grace] – which, for example, Castiglione describes in his Il Cortegiano, and Vasari’s concept ‘grazia’. Blunt 1978, pp. 97-98. De Grebber, rule VIII: ‘De haspelingh der beelden moeten ghemijdt werden, ‘t welck is dat de Arm, ofte Been, ofte Handen, of yets dat van de eene is, den ander niet en schijnt toe te komen’ [It should be avoided that it gets jumbled up in the images, so that the arm or leg or hands or anything else that belongs to one does not appear to belong to the other]. 283 786. 787. 788. 789. 790. 791. 792. 793. 794. 795. 796. 797. For the concept of ‘stereotype’, see De Mare 1990A, pp. 15-20, De Mare 1990C, pp. 166167. Kersten 1996, p. 156. They often have the same or similar poses, suggesting that his repertoire of postures was limited. The distinction is based on 1) difference in clothing (housewife often with a housecoat (with, but also without an apron); 2) the hair often covered with a loosely hanging headscarf (sometimes, as a ‘mother’, the hair tucked up). The maid has an apron and a cap that fits tightly around the head; 3) difference in pose (the housewife makes herself broad, the maidservant makes herself narrow, with her head bent). There are of course characters that are difficult to classify in this seventeenth-century typology. For the types of clothing in the Van de Venne’s emblems in Alle De Wercken [Alle the Works] by Jacob Cats, see Luijten 1996B, II, pp. 31-33. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 78-9); Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 128), (Van de zeven Motus, oft beweging in der ordinantie t’onderhouden [On the seven Motus, or motion to be maintained in arranging]); Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 117, pp. 294-295. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 78-79). Miedema 1973A points out that these seven movements are derived from rhetoric. Cicero describes them as part of the rhetorical instructions for the orator’s gesticulation. Gombrich 1983C (pp. 104, 108, 121-122) pointed out (when comparing both modalities) that the Egyptian ‘image’ of the human body is subordinate to the completeness of the body, whereas in the Greek ‘image’ the (fragmented) rendering gives primacy to the eye and how it by its nature perceives. Gombrich emphasizes that both ways of presenting nature on the flat plane are based on schemata and that one is no better (i.e., ‘more accurate’) than the other. As in Carolingian times (8th century) or in the 11th century. Gombrich 1983; Panofsky 1974B; Halbertsma 1985. Kersten 1996 (no. 146, p. 153, no. 157, p. 161). Spicer 1993. Spicer 1993, p. 110 mentions John Bulwers, Chironomia (1644) on the rhetorical gesture who first describes this gesture: ‘to set the arms agambo or aprank, and to rest the turnedback of the hand upon the side is an action of pride and ostentation, unbeseeming the hand of an orator’. Spicer 1993, p. 99. The terms in which she discusses the painted elbow include for instance ‘self-confidence’ (p. 102), ‘aggressive’, ‘spatial demarcation’, ‘possessive obtrusiveness’, ‘proud pose’, ‘self-assured reinforcement of the territorial drive’, ‘border demarcation’, ‘impertinence’, ‘haughtiness’, 'barrier' (p. 104), ‘military attitude’, ‘even more provocative’, ‘clear expression of Imponierverhalten’ (p. 106), ‘steady increase (...) of more expressive, often impertinent body language’, ‘brutality’, ‘male roughness’ (p. 108), ‘all macho’, ‘insolent gesture’, ‘societal self-confidence’ (p. 112), ‘assertive, masculine appearance’, ‘proud attitude’, ‘vigorous expression of self-confidence’, ‘associated with anger or provocation’, ‘combative’, ‘aggressive informality’ (p. 114), ‘expressing the company’s aggressive potential’, ‘the macho metaphor’, ‘emphatically expressive hands’, ‘vigilant gazes’, ‘straight backs’, ‘tough resoluteness’, ‘belligerent attitude’ (p. 119), ‘more aggressive poses’, ‘smug but cheerful toughness’, (p. 121), ‘territorial drive’, ‘possessive’ (p. 125), ‘defiant’, ‘much more overtly assertive expression’, ‘militant gesture’, ‘possessive manner’, ‘uncompromising leadership’ (p. 126), ‘masculine assertiveness’, ‘determined’, ‘impertinent manner’ (p. 129), ‘erotically tinged masculine display of power’ (p. 131), ‘heroic, self-confident’, ‘proud pater familias’, ‘vigilant and protective masculine attitude’ (p. 133), ‘patriarchal role’ (p. 134), ‘aggressive masculinity’ (p. 135), ‘increasing aggression in male gestures’, ‘insolence’, ‘provocative climax’ (p. 137). 284 798. 799. 800. 801. 802. 803. 804. 805. 806. 807. 808. 809. 810. 811. 812. 813. 814. Although Spicer 1993, p. 137 ends her article with the question to what extent ‘painterly material’ imposes restrictions on interpretation given its own ‘aesthetic values’, to what extent we do not start from an ‘apparent naturalism’ through which ‘morals and customs’ are merely ‘reflected’, she concludes that the changes that occur in the ‘visual language’ only confirm (in their own way) what is happening in general. Spicer 1993, p. 137. Spicer 1993, pp. 122, 138: ‘that’s why they are so intriguing to decipher’; ‘they shock us, they touch us emotionally’. De Waal 1996. See her comparison on pp. 121-122 of the painting Maaltijd van Officieren van de SintJorisdoelen by Frans Halls (1616) with a photo of the rock group Sha Na Na (around 1968). ‘Transparent in the sense that the [film] is not regarded as material; it is dematerialized to achieve perfect representation – to let the identity of things shine through the window of words’. According to Colin MacCabe in an article from 1975, (MacCabe 1985A, p. 35, and 1985B) which is equally valid for a painting or a literary work. See the ‘realism’ debate in film theory since the 1970s. Hecht 1989, pp. 104-108. Spicer 1993, p. 116: ‘The prevailing norms for female behavior, for the “morally weaker” gender, were aimed at moderation and avoiding any hint of personal pride or selfconfidence. An impertinent attitude would be inappropriate; one seldom encounters the gesture, except in allegories of Pride or Vanity, such as the warning exaltations of Lady World or in representations of ladies of light morals’. Her examples concern only ‘women with their hands in their sides’ (Haak 1984: no. 153, no. 380 and no. 707). Spicer 1993, p. 116. Duits 1997, p. 23 suggested that women in particular were painted in the Renaissance because of the status symbol of the women’s sleeve. His argument, which is based on the costume historical problem of the fitting sleeve to the clothes for which a solution was found in this period, does not differ in this sense from Spicer’s. In this article he too sees the painting primarily (with the exception of a few remarks, see below) as documentation of social issues beyond the practice of painting. De Jongh 1997 has tried to decipher the signs on the sleeve of one of Spicer’s examples, the Laughing Cavalier by Frans Hals (1624), but after many possible clues, one of his conclusions on p. 28 is: ‘As is frequently the case, here too it is difficult to indicate where symbolism begins and where it ends. The whole thing certainly cannot be deciphered as a rebus, and in the absence of deeper insight we cannot think of much more than that the visual language of the gorgeous sleeve refers to power, virtue and love’. Duits 1997, p. 24 comments on Rafael’s La velata (c. 1515): ‘Be that as it may, Rafael seems to have devoted at least as much love to painting the giant sleeve in the foreground as he may ever have devoted to the lady herself. And undeniably, this almost carelessly worn batch of crepe and gold still enhances our appreciation of the painting, even though as spectators we are no longer primarily interested in the material value of what is shown’. Hecht 1989, pp. 92-96. In one of his self-portraits Jan Steen places this rule in the spotlight in his own way: not with his elbow but with his bent knee he shows himself pontifically in the flat plane (bp.4.194.1). In about half of all De Hooch’s paintings these ‘active’ dogs are present: waving their tails, standing on their hind legs, often depicted from behind or en profile, but rarely en face. Idem Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 81). Halberstma 1985, p. 27 discusses studies by Wilhelm Pinder on Gothic sculpture: ‘The shapes that we see shimmering through the drapery in late Gothic sculpture should not be 285 815. 816. 817. 818. 819. 820. 821. 822. 823. 824. 825. 826. 827. 828. 829. 830. 831. 832. 833. 834. 835. 836. 837. understood as real bodies. They have their own dynamics, separate from the movement of the depicted figure’. Biens (De Klerk 1982, pp. 52-53). And not so much from the primacy of space representation as Kersten 1996, p. 155 suggests. An indication that Jacob Cats also mentions (ADW I, p. 146) when he writes about fish which doesn’t stay ‘in sijn Element’ [in his Element] (but, lured by the light of a torch, jumps out of the water and onto the boat). Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 75-76). Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 75-76); Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 186-188. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 181. Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 53): ‘Voorts ordonneer men soo danige personagien, plaetsen en gebouwen als de saecken vereysschen, de posturen in alderhande manieren stellende, en met veelderley cleedinghen vercierende, op welck cleedinghen wel dient ghelet te zijn, oft de beelden buyten ofte binnens huys komen om ‘t waeyen en swieren ofte hangen wel te observeren, in ‘t ployen moeten oock alle hoogh-uytsteeckende leden ghemijdt ende ghetoest zijn, als den buyck, schouders, knyen en dierghelijcken’ [Further, one ordains such characters, places, and buildings as the occasions require, sets the postures in all kinds of ways, and with many kinds of clothing adorned, and to which one must pay close attention, whether the images take place outdoors or indoors in order to observe well the blowing and swaying or drooping of the clothing, and in the folding also all the high protruding members should be avoided and examined, such as the abdomen, shoulders, knees and the like]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 181-182. Angel 1642, p. 48, speaks in this case of ‘eygen natuerlicke uyt-beeldinge’ [own natural depiction]. Vitruvius (I.2), see Morgan 1960, p. 14, Fensterbusch 1981, p. 39, Peters 1997, p. 36. Da Vinci (Blunt 1978, p. 35); ‘mine’ (French) in the sense of ‘attitude’, ‘pose’, ‘facial expression’. Compare Emmens 1964, pp. 40-41, who points to Horace’s precept ‘that a king should be royally displayed, and a decent woman should not have improper statements put in her mouth’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 183. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 75). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 182; Miedema 1973A. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 182. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 182. Tümpel 1995, p. 120 confirms that many painters adhered to the existing stories, and thus to ‘standardizations, associations, conventions’. He understands Rembrandt as a painter who knows how to vary within the limits set by the biblical narrative. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 141. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 92. He himself devotes Book III.7 entirely to characters and their histories, Book III.9 to meaningful gestures. Book IV deals with the circumstances (1: seasons and weather; 2: place; 3: the furnishing of places with contextual household goods; 4. the appropriate architectural elements; 5. landscapes; 6: the appropriate contextual ‘props’ specific to a time, country, nation or person; 7. the hairstyle; 8. robes of nations; 9: weapons; 10. household goods; 11. animals). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 91). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 90). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 213. De Grebber 1649 (Blankert 1999), rule II: ‘Is ‘t van noode datmen de Historien wel doorleest: (bysonder als het schriftuerlijke ofte waerachtighe Historien zijn) om den sin soo nae 286 838. 839. 840. 841. 842. 843. 844. 845. 846. 847. 848. 849. 850. 851. 852. 853. 854. als ‘t moghelyck is wel uyt te beelden’ [It is necessary that one reads the Events carefully: (especially if they are derived from the Holy Scriptures or reliable Histories) in order to act out the thoughts as closely as possible]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 88-89: ‘een zinrijke en lofwaerdige vinding in d’ordinantie, kan niet dan uit een geleert en doorlettert verstandt voortspruiten. Geenerley wetenschappen behooren een Schilder vremdt te zijn: hy behort de gansche oudtheyt te weeten, en ‘t oneyndich getal der Poëtische en Historysche vertellingen op zijn duym te hebben’ [a sensible and praiseworthy finding in the arrangement, cannot but spring from a learned and literate mind. No science should be foreign to a Painter: he should know the whole of antiquity, and the infinite number of Poetic and Historical tales at his fingertips]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 90-91). See for the interpretation that Alberti’s indications are not so much ‘directions’ for the painter, but rather symbols in a philosophical sense, Panofsky 1984A, pp. 121-122. Alpers 1960, p. 196: ‘Ekphrasis originated in late antiquity as a rhetorical mode of praising and describing people, places, buildings, and works of art. The earliest example of such a presentation of a work of art is Homer’s shield of Achilles. Like the later rhetorical form, this poetic description presents the shield in a series of rich, ornate narratives, rather than attempting an exact description of any possible scene’. Alpers 1960, p. 198: ‘Ancient Ekphrases were widely read in the Renaissance. They were both used by the artists themselves as sources for inventions and extravagantly praised in treatises on art’. Alpers 1983; Miedema 1995. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 93-94. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 95-96. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 178. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 179, with reference to Junius 1637. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 188. Elsewhere (p. 174) he calls ‘de konst van ‘t wel oirdineren’ [the art of arranging well] or the ‘Schikkunst’ [the art of arranging]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 181-182 speaks of the rule of ‘de minzaeme harmonie, of gevoeglijkheyt en maetschikkelijkheyt in hoegrootheit’ [the affable harmony, or the compliant and suitable measures in magnitude]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 182. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 181: (Dingen die elkander beminnen, by een te schikken [Arrange things that love each other, together]). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 182. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 185: ‘Ten tweeden is’er waer te neemen, hoe de dingen in maetschiklijkheyt tegen malkander te vergelijken zijn: men heeft dan wel aen te merken, hoedanich het eene lichaem zich tegen het ander vertoont’ [In the second place, it is necessary to consider how things are comparable to one another given their suitable measures: one must then pay attention, how one body appears in relation to the other]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 75). Alpers 1983 points out that in many Dutch paintings the natural dimensions on the flat plane are differentiated by placing large bodies on the background (such as a stable, a church tower or an entire city) and the smaller bodies (a bull, a human being, a still life) colossal on the front plan. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 185-186. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 76), with reference to Varro and also known by Quintilian; idem Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 188. In important groups the number of painted persons is larger (Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 189). However, the number of combinations in which the stereotype characters (baby, child, young woman, young man, housewife, maidservant and husband) and some pets appear is large. Several times there are paintings with only two living creatures, or with more than 287 855. 856. 857. 858. 859. 860. 861. 862. 863. 864. 865. 866. 867. 868. 869. 870. 871. nine. Only bp.4.11.2, bp.4.19.1, bp.4.20.3, bp.4.21.4 (in my selection at least) show a character alone. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 189; De Grebber 1649: rule III, ‘Het principaelste van de Historie moet in het schoonste van ‘t stuck en vooraen ghebracht werden’ [The principal of History must be brought into the most beautiful of the piece and in front]. Van den Akker 1991, p. 21. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 190: ‘Laet uwe figuren met malkanderen een welstandige beweging hebben: niet als de domme toneelspeelers, die de reedenen, dieze elkander behoorden toe te duwen, voor op ‘t toneel aen de toehoorders komen uitbraken’ [Let your figures have a balanced movement with each other: not like the foolish actors who do not address their speeches to each other, but come on stage to pour them out over the audience]. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 76); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 190: ‘Neem een aerdige sprong waer, dat is een welkunstige, maer in schijn ongemaekte plaetsing uwer beelden: op dat menze niet, by wijze van spreeken, al te gelijk (als in sommige Doelstukken) de hoofden kan afslaen’ [Observe a nice leap, which is a artful, but seemingly unmade placement of your figures: lest, so to speak, one may knock the heads off them all at once (as in some of the Schutter pieces]; Vollemans 1998, pp. 74-75. This applies to most of De Hooch’s paintings. Once in a while (if not portraits, where it is common) human characters look out of the picture. In bp.4.18.3 a child, in (bp.4.7.1, bp.4.13.4) it is an adult male. Sutton 1998, p. 174 writes ‘this device serves to engage the observer’, but in this case it is explicitly about the man who ‘shows his cards’ while a card game is going on. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 131-133) already mentions composing ‘in hoopkens oft tropkens volck’ [in heaps or small groups of people], referring to early modern painters from Italy. Van den Akker 1991, p. 35. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 190; Vollenmans 1998, p. 74: ‘In the fifth book we see the painter in front of his canvas as a general above the map (...) “Sprong” [Jump] and “troeping” [trooping] belong to the strategic and taxonomic knowledge of the painter. Trooping, that is setting up, forming groups, parties. Jump, that is the art of not making the composition too conspicuous, for it is the art of concealing the art’. De Grebber 1649 (Blankert 1999) rule VII. For Grebber see Brenninckmeyer-de Rooij (Haak 1984, p. 63); Broos 1993, p. 15. Sutton 1980, p. 22; idem Kersten 1996. Kersten 1996, p. 146. Instead of the many small figures – as in Bruegel’s case – they are few in number and are rather large in relation to the ‘landscape’ in which they find themselves. Van den Akker 1991, pp. 71, 73. Van den Akker 1991, pp. 28-34, 185-188; Bolten 1985. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 96, and note 18, p. 135). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 193. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 22. Elsewhere (pp. 192-199) he points out that, as one can make a new song on an old melody, one can also treat another substance in painting, but uses compositions by others. Broos 1993, pp. 16, 18. The quotes are taken from Broos 1991B, pp. 39-46. Although the author tries to understand the early modern ‘rapen’ [picking up] (‘people in those days had quite free opinions’, ‘they did not consider this as plagiarism, but as a sign of reverence’, ‘copying motives from someone else’s work [is], if done correctly, a well-known phenomenon in 17th-century art practice’), terms like ‘angry’, ‘unfavorable’, ‘warning fingers’, ‘for fun’ confirm the modern misunderstanding with respect to the early modern conception of knowledge and the modern assumption about ‘the development of the self-awareness of the artist since the Renaissance’ and the increase of ‘sense of values’. 288 872. 873. 874. 875. 876. 877. 878. 879. 880. 881. 882. 883. 884. 885. 886. 887. 888. 889. Panofsky 1968, pp. 49-50. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 70 encourages to become ‘universeel’ [universal, allencompassing]; on p. 72: ‘En voorwaer, dezen graedt der Algemeenheit in de konst te bereyken, is zoo veel te waerdiger datm’er nae stae, om datze de kroone der gloryen aen haere verwinners geeft, grooten loon nae zich sleept, en vol van vermaek is’ [And verily, this degree of Generality in art to be attained, is so worthy to be pursued, for that it gives the crown of glories to its overcomers, results in great reward, and is full of pleasure and renewing]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 70. Sutton 1984, p. 339: ‘Works from de Hooch’s mature period are conceived and arranged primarily according to the architecture of the interior space, a practice that was one of the master’s most important contributions to the history of painting. De Hooch was one of the first Dutch genre painters to have created a “natural environment” for his figures’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 190. Price 1987, p. 108. Taylor 1995, p. 83: ‘Neoplatonic theorising (...) was never very popular in the Netherlands. and no Dutch art theorist divorced his notion of ideal beauty so far from the world of apearances’. For the ‘debate’ between iconologists and defenders of ‘Dutch classicism’ see: Haak 1984, p. 502; De Vries 1998, pp. 8-13; Blankert 1999, pp. 13-16 (‘the so forgotten and reviled classicism’); Broos 1993; De Jongh 1990/1991, 1992A. For a similar unsavory intensity in the ‘realism debate’ between the iconologists and Alpers, see De Mare 1997A. De Jongh 1995A, p. 18 and De Jongh 1998, p. 170. An opinion that has broad support. See for instance: Brenninckmeyer-de Rooij 1984, p. 63; Sluijter 1993, pp. 8-9; but also Taylor 1995, pp. 77-83; Brusati 1995, p. 221; Alpers 1989, pp. 14-15. De Jongh 1995B, p. 92. Van Hoogstraten’s statement ‘bywerk dat bedektlijk iets verklaert’ [side-work that covertly explains something] (De Jongh 1995A, p. 18; De Jongh 1995E, p. 130); or his statement on the painting as a ‘volmaakte Spiegel van de natuur’ [perfect Reflection of nature] (Sluijter 1993, pp. 66-67; idem Sluijter 1992, 1987, 1991, 1990; Van Gelder 11/9/1998, p. 23). Becker 1991. A choice selection that has provoked a lot of criticism, see De Mare 1997A. These studies, however, remain within the above framework: see Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, 1995), Angel (Miedema 1973A and B, 1989B, 1993/4) and Sluijter 1988, 1993), Lampsonius and Lucas d'Heere (Becker 1973 and 1972/73). For the art of drawing in general see Bolten 1973, 1979, 1985 and Kwakkelstein 1998 (about Goeree). Broos 1993; De Vries 1998; Blankert 1999. Miedema 1989A, p. 104 and p. 106: ‘alle figurale voorstellingen, voor zover ze niet door Bijbelse of historische omstandigheden waren bepaald’ [all figural depictions, in so far as they were not determined by biblical or historical circumstances], ‘zo natuurlijk, ja zelfs: zo alledaags mogelijk werden uitgebeeld’ [were depicted as naturally, indeed: as mundanely as possible], ‘alledaagse, huiselijke tafereeltjes’ [everyday, homely scenes], ‘al die schijnbaar ongecompliceerde, alledaagse voorstellingen’ [all those seemingly uncomplicated, everyday depictions], ‘huiselijke, sfeervolle alledaagsheid van de voorstellingen’ [homely, atmospheric ordinariness of the depictions]. Taylor 1995, p. 78; Hak 1984, p. 78: ‘any painting in which the human figure plays the leading role, with a subject derived from the Bible, history, mythology, literature and allegory’. Broos 1993, p. 10 (with reference to Miedema 1973A, pp. 342-343, 345-346): ‘(human) figures in a narrative context, which could be surrounded by a lot of side-work’. Schmidt-Degener 1949, pp. 27-28: ‘sacred histories’, ‘biblical history’, ‘ancient histories’, ‘history piece’; Panofsky 1984, p. 10: ‘mythological, biblical stories’; Huizinga 1942, pp. 289 890. 891. 892. 893. 894. 895. 896. 897. 898. 899. 900. 901. 902. 903. 114-115: ‘painting for the saint’s figure’, ‘the allegory’, ‘ancient history’, ‘the biblical scene’; Janson 1961: ‘Old Testament subjects’ (p. 429), ‘religious representations’ (p. 425); Gombrich 1972C, p. 367: ‘the dignity of what was called “history painting”’; Miedema 1973A, p. 342 translates ‘history piece’ as, among other things, ‘figure piece’. Broos 1993, p. 10; Brusati 1995, p. 237; Van der Ploeg & Vermeeren 1997, p. 58; Van Gelder 1999, p. 25; Van Eck 2000, p. 17. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, p. 372; Miedema 1988A, p. 15 and Miedema 1989A, p. 121, n. 93 confirm that. Broos 1993, p. 10: ‘Exactly what one should understand by a history piece has never been well described by the older theorists’. Idem Sluijter 1986, p. 11; Haak 1984, p. 77. Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 73): ‘history painters, as I tend to call them, maybe not entirely acurate’. Broos 1993, pp. 10-12; Blankert 1999. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, p. 372. See e.g. De Jongh 1995A, p. 85; Jongh 1997, p. 11; Miedema 1989A, pp. 57-58, 144, 104, 106-108. De Jongh 1995B, p. 85: ‘geselschap’ [company], ‘converstatie’ [converstation], ‘bordeeltgen’ [brothel], ‘boeren maeltyt’ [peasants meal], ‘soldaets kroeghje’ [soldier’s pub], ‘Musyk’ [Music], ‘Een Soldaet met een laggent Meysje’ [A Soldier with a Smiling Girl], ‘Een Meyd die Melk uytgiet’ [A Girl Pouring Milk]. See also the terms in Haak 1984. Janson 1961, pp. 430-431 speaks of ‘genre pieces’ or ‘genre work’: ‘The enormous group of paintings that we put together under genre work is as richly varied as the landscapes and still lifes. It includes tavern quarrels as well as refined domestic interiors. SintNicolaasavond [St. Nicholas Evening] by Jan Steen is halfway between these two extremes’. About which lovers of classicism then complain in turn. Broos 1993, p. 8: ‘But in the nineteenth century, when it was precisely the painters of “realism” that received all the attention, history paintings lost popularity’. Blankert 1999, p. 15: ‘In modern times, Dutch seventeenth-century history painting only attracted interest insofar as people thought they could discover something modern in it’. Miedema 1989A, pp. 106-108: The genre genre was even seen as an expression of a typically northern thirst for uncomplicated directness, which would have been precisely the characteristic quality of seventeenth-century Dutch painting. (...) In the nineteenth century in France we met an art movement called Realism, which assumed that there was no reality other than the visible and tangible things around us and that these things meant nothing other than themselves. This view could be projected beautifully on the seventeenth-century paintings, which, under the influence of this movement, were interpreted not only as a genre, but even as realistic, which meant that in principle they would be nothing but what everyone saw in them with their nineteenth-century eyes’. De Vries 1998, p. 8 (classicism was seen as ‘foreign’, ‘alien to everything inherently Dutch’, ‘unduly intellectual’, ‘lacking emotional warmth’, ‘eclectic’, ‘uninspired’, ‘the opposite extreme from realistic’); Miedema 1995, p. 78; Blankert 1999; De Jongh 1993, 1992C; Van Gelder 1999, p. 25. Blankert 1999, p. 14: ‘According to the seventeenth-century view, the history piece was the highest in the hierarchy of subjects a painter could choose’. Idem Haak 1984, p. 77. De Jongh 1995B, p. 92: ‘The relatively low to very low appreciation that the genre, at least what would later be so called, received within the hierarchy of art (comprehensive history painting was given the highest honor) must have been part of the reason why theorists have paid remarkably little attention to it’. 290 904. 905. 906. 907. 908. 909. 910. 911. 912. 913. 914. 915. 916. 917. 918. Blankert 1999, pp. 13-14 states under the heading ‘Famous great masters who have been misunderstood’: ‘We believe that the artistic quality of the creations by the classicist orientation is often astonishingly high’. Miedema 1989A, pp. 107-108; idem pp. 58, 144. On pp. 108-109: ‘It will be clear that, except perhaps in the nineteenth century, works of art whose sole purpose is to represent what is depicted as accurately and unambiguously as possible are extremely rare. This means that we can hardly ever assume that what is depicted on a painting is a snapshot of something that looked like this at some point: even in the “realistic” seventeenth century, the intention was almost always to express a certain idea by means of a representation that was so constructed that the depicted could very well exist physically but that the situation never had to have occurred in such a way’. De Jongh 1998, p. 170: ‘They [the contemporary theorists] considered genre scenes to be beneath their dignity or that of their profession. If we bear in mind that genre scenes must have been made in the hundreds of thousands, then such elitist attitude tells us something about the discrepancy between theory and practice; and at the same time also about the value and range of our theory in this respect.’ Idem De Jongh 1995A, p. 18. Through for instance the German translation of Rivius (who by the way doesn’t mention Alberti), of whom also a Vitrivius’ translation is known. Miedema 1973A, pp. 645-646, 634, 461-463; Greenstein 1992; Patz 1986. In rhetoric the ‘exercise in description’ is a part of reason [logos], where it serves as a small excursion in support of an argument (Leeman & Braet 1987). For the application in the art of painting of this ‘literary rhetorical genre’, see Alpers 1960 and 1989, Miedema 1989A, pp. 118-119. Alpers (1960) points out that the ‘ekphrasis’ in Vasari’s work was primarily intended for the readers of his Lives, so that they could imagine the paintings vividly, and were not intended for painters as hints. Later (1989) she spoke of ‘descriptio’ (the Latin term for ‘ekphrasis’) to indicate where Dutch paintings differ from the narrative Italian paintings. However, the term has led to many misunderstandings (De Mare 1997A). Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 75-77). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 70): ‘I say composition is that rule in painting by which the parts fit together in the painted work. The greatest work of the painter is the istoria. Bodies are part of the istoria, members are parts of the bodies, planes are parts of the members’. Idem p. 72. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 75, 77). Spencer 1966, Westfall 1971; Baxandall 1988; Patz 1986; Miedema 1988A; Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996. For an overview see Greenstein 1992, n. 2, p. 236. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 58); Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 40). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 58): ‘How difficult this is can be seen in the works of antique sculptors and painters: perhaps because it was obscure, it was hidden and unknown to them. One scarcely sees a single antique [i]storia aptly composed’. For a treatment of this see Emmens 1964, pp. 120-122. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 280: ‘... de beste meesters hebben altijts schoonheyt gestelt in de gelijkmaeticheyt van deelen, of anders in een alderbeste medemeetlijkheyt van ‘t geheel tot yder deel, en wederom van de deelen onderling tegen elkander’ [... the best masters have always sought beauty in the evenness of the parts, or else in a very best co-measurability of the whole to each part, and again of the parts themselves in relation to each other]. This description resembles Alberti’s description of ‘concinnitas’ in De re aedificatoria as ‘a harmonious whole that nothing can be added, taken away or changed without destroying it’. This is a reference to Cicero and his study on beauty (Spencer 1966, p. 133, n. 8). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 278. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 93): ‘In order not to waste his study and care the painter should avoid the custom of some simpletons. Presumptuous of their own intellect and without any 291 919. 920. 921. 922. 923. 924. 925. 926. 927. 928. 929. 930. 931. 932. 933. 934. 935. 936. 937. 938. example from nature to follow with their eyes or minds, they study by themselves to acquire fame in painting. They do not learn how to paint well, but become accustomed to their own errors. This idea of beauty, which the well trained barely discern, flees from the intellect of the inexpert.’ Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 281: ‘Wy zeggen dan, datter een schoonheyt is, dat is, in allerley gedaentens een eenich allerschoonste, ‘t welk Momus zelf geen gebrek en zoude kunnen optijgen, noch eenich deel daer in aenwijzen, dat de gelijkmaticheit te buiten ging’ [We say then, that there is a beauty, that is, in all kinds of forms there is a single most beautiful one, to which Momus himself could not make any defect, nor designate any part in it, that went beyond evenness]. For Alberti’s, Momus, see Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 281 (referring to Dürer). Op p. 279: ‘Vande Schoonheyt, dat’er een Kunstgeregelde Schoonheyt is’ [On Beauty, That There Is an Art-Regulated Beauty]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 286. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 283. This is in accordance with Panofsky 1968, p. 50. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 287. Panofsky 1968 confirms that in this day and age the ‘idea’ shifts to the brain. See section 5.2.4. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 77-78). Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 77, 78-80). Konst 1993: Stuip & Vellekoop 1998; Tan 2000. Blunt 1978, p. 34. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 77). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 78). Idem Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 179). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 80): ‘Thus each one with dignity has his own movements to express whatever movements of the soul he wishes’. Leeman & Braet 1987, p. 116. Van Hoogstraten 1678 (‘Van de hartstochten en driften des gemoeds’ [On the passions and urges of the mind], pp. 108-115, ‘Van de doening’ [On the doing], pp. 115-121) also speaks on the ‘lijdingen des gemoeds’ [motions of the mood] (p. 116); Van Mander, ‘Wtbeeldinghe der Affecten/ passien/begeerlijckheden en lijdens der Menschen’ [Depictions of the Affections/ passions/ desires, motions of Human beings] (Miedema 1973A, pp. 156-183); see also Emmens 1981-IIB, pp. 31-33. Van Mander (Miedema 1973, p. 156) mentions ‘Liefde’ [Love], ‘begeerlijckheyt’ [desire], ‘vreucht’ [joy], ‘smert’ [sorrow], ‘tooren’ [wrath], Commer’ [Misery], ‘droefheyt’ [sadness], ‘Cleynmoedicheyt’ [Pettiness], ‘vreese’ [fear], ‘quaet om bedwinghen’ [malice to be contained], ‘opgheblasenheyt’ [bloated], ‘nijdich veeten’ [afgunstige haat, envious hatred]. The affects mentioned by Van Hoogstraten in 1678, pp. 108-115 include joy, sadness, doubt, wonder, shame, anger, wrath. But also love and hate, maternal affection and sorrow, (depicting weeping), cruelty, envy, despair, upset, agony, distress, fear and worry, favor and displeasure, diligence and sluggishness, resentment, pride and insolence. In some figures different affects can be seen at the same time, as in Paris’ judgment (wisdom, reason and desire). Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 159): (Histronica zijn gesten ghelijck die de Comedy spelers ghebruycken [Histronica are gestures like those used by Comedy players]); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 109. Vollemans 1998, pp. 108-110. Emmens 1964, p. 135. On p. 120, Emmens does point out that in classicist theory, in which beauty plays a central role, the portrayal of expressions – previously valued as an important part of the art of painting – becomes an “aesthetic” issue. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 117. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 167): Jae ‘t voorhooft ghelijckt wel de Lucht en t’weder/ 292 939. 940. 941. 942. 943. 944. 945. 946. 947. 948. Daer somtijts veel droeve wolcken om waeyen/ Als t’hert is belast met swaerheyt t’onvreder: Maer alle doncker misten vallen neder/ Door troostighen windt en vreuchdighe raeyen/ Schoon/ suyver/ asuerich/ om d’gheefts verfraeyen/ Wordt den Hemel ghevaeght/ en t’Licht der Sonnen Triumpheert/ als Heldt/ die strijdt heeft verwonnen. [Yes the forehead is like the sky and the weather/ Where sometimes many sad clouds blow/ When the heart is burdened with the heaviness of discontent: And all the dark mists fall down/ By comforting wind and joyful rays/ Clean/ pure/ blue/ as a gift to beautify/ Is the Heaven swept/ and the Light of the Suns Triumphs/ as Hero/ who has conquered the battle]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 112, 110. Ivory, probably from the Taj Mahal (1632-1643). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 119: ‘Met de middelste en langste vinger op iemand te wijzen, was ‘t merkteyken van schimp en hoon’ [Pointing the middle and longest finger at someone was a mark of jeers and ridicule]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 121: (Plechtlijke beweegingen moeten niet fors, maer deftig zijn [Solemn movements should not be strong, but dignified]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 112-113. Bremmer 1993; Roodenburg 1993A and B, 1995. Idem Da Vinci (Blunt 1978, pp. 15-16). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 55). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 64: To find beauty in a human body is ‘in ‘t vermijden der gebreeken. De gebreeken zijn gemeen, maer de schoonheit is raer, en laet zich van niemant kennen, als van dieze navorscht’ [to avoid the defects. The defects are common, but the beauty is rare, and allows itself to be known by no one, only by the one who explores it]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 65: ‘Het welk ons d’onmacht van de natuer openbaert, in een schoonheyd zonder gebreck te vormen [What reveals to us the impotence of nature, to form a beauty without defect]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 282: ‘En te meer, dat wy zien dat veelerley onschoonheden uit quaede locht, voetzel en laendaert voortkomen, daer zy [de eerste, volmaakt schone mensen, Adam en Eva] vry van geweest zijn; gelijk ook van het onderscheydelijk kroost, dat de menschen, door veelderleye gebreken haerer voorouderen geerft hebben, en noch dagelijks door nieuwe toevallen veregert, of ten minsten verandert, aen haere kinderen overzetten en meedeelen’ [And the more so, that we see that many an ugliness arises from evil air, food, and nature of the land, from which they [the first, perfectly beautiful men, Adam and Eve] have been free; as also from the clear offspring, which human beings, by all kinds of defects, have inherited from her ancestors, and still daily by new afflictions aggravated, or at least changed, pass on and convey to her children]. In Book II he goes further into the inheritance, ‘Van de Kroostkunde’ [On the knowledge of the offspring]: ‘De Kroostkunde nu is een kennis van uit de byzonderheden, die in de aengezichten of tronien der menschen bespeurt worden, haer landaert, geslacht, geest en neyging des gemoets te verklaren (... ) Wegens ‘t geslacht zoo zietmen dat alle kinderen iets van haer ouders Kroost voeren; daer dan in deeze het vaderlijke, en in geene het moederlijke meest uitzwemt’ [Now the knowledge of the offspring is a knowledge based on the particulars to be explained, in the face or tronies of human beings, the nature of their soil, sex, spirit and inclination (...) Because of the sex one sees that all children carry something of their 293 949. 950. 951. 952. 953. 954. 955. 956. 957. 958. 959. 960. 961. 962. 963. 964. 965. 966. 967. 968. 969. 970. 971. 972. parents' Offspring; wherefore in this one the paternal, and in that one the maternal swarms out the most]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 283, 48-49. Van Mander too presents this kind of knowledge of other peoples that he derived from his translations of travel reports. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 48-49. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 226. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 92). Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 80): ‘The painting ought to have pleasant and graceful movements, suitable to what is happening there. The movements and poses of virgins are airy, full of simplicity with sweetness of quiet rather than strength; even though to Homer, whom Zeuxis followed, robust forms were pleasing even in women’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 228. Blunt 1978, p. 18. Close 1969, p. 472: ‘Art ministers to, complements, or perfects nature’. Continuing: ‘In the Protrepticus, Aristotle develops the idea that the artist exists to aid nature and to make good its deficiencies’. Panofsky 1968, pp. 48-49. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 225: ‘Ik en wil hier meede niet tegenspreeken, datmen het schoonste uit de natuer verkiest, en het zelve op ‘t levenst en lieflijkst weet te schikken; want dit roemen wy boven al’ [I do not wish to contradict here that one prefers the most beautiful from nature and knows how to arrange it most vividly and loveliest; for this we praise above all]. See also Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 286-287; Close 1969. Blunt 1978, pp. 18-19. Van Hoogstraten, p. 50: ‘Want de konst is in de natuer ingedoopt, als gy die daer uit zult getrokken hebben, zult gy veele dwaelingen in uw werk vermijden’ [For art is drenched in nature, if you will have drawn it from there, you will avoid many errors in your work]. Blunt 1978, p. 90. Blunt 1978, pp. 89-90. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 283. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 92): ‘It will please him not only to make all the parts true to his model but also add beauty there’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 50 (‘Van de welschapenheyt, Analogie, ofte proportie, in ‘t gemeen’ [On the Well-Endowedness, Analogy, or Proportion, in General]): ‘Wy besluiten dan dat de welschaepenheyt des lichaems bestaet, in een zeekere Simmetrie, die des zelfs deelen onderling, en met het geheel hebben. Want een lichaem, dat dus over al zijn gedeeltens schoon is, overtreft ver de schoonheyt van eenigh uitmuntend deel’ [We conclude then, that the Well-Endowedness of the body consists, in a certain Symmetry, which the parts have among themselves, and with the whole. For a body, which is everywhere beautiful in its parts, far surpasses the beauty of any outstanding part]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 290. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 51-52; Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 72). Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 47-52, 284. Emmens 1964, p. 124 points out that thinking about beauty and ugly (and about ‘picturesque’) differs depending on the goal that is set. ‘While Classicism rigorously tried to reconcile the painted “beauty” with the “natural beauty”, in the pre-Classicist period the view prevailed that that which is ugly “in life” can be “beautifully” depicted’. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 92-93). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 77. Angel 1642, p. 52; van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 56. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 226-228. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 71: ‘Elders zegt den zelven Quintilianus, dat een Schilder, die de rechte maniere van Imiteeren, ofte naevolgen, maer eens gevat heeft, al wat hem voorkomt, lichtelijk zal afbeelden; jae wat hem in de natuere zou kunnen voorkomen’ [Elsewhere the 294 973. 974. 975. 976. 977. 978. 979. 980. 981. 982. 983. 984. 985. 986. 987. same Quintilian says, that a Painter, who has but once understood the proper way of Imitating, or following, will easily depict all that meets his eye; yea what he might encounter in nature]. Angel 1642, pp. 25-26. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 70-71: ‘Hier op zegt Tullius, gelijk in d’andere konsten, als de moejelijkste dingen verhandelt zijn, ‘t overige niet veel arbeyts vereyscht, als wezende veel lichter om te begrijpen, ofte ook somwijlen den vorigen gelijkvormich’ [On this Tullius says, as in the other arts, when the most difficult things are treated, the rest does not require much effort, because it is much lighter to understand, or sometimes even similar to the previous one]; Van Mander, (‘datmen sal soecken universael te wesen’ [that one should try to be general] and ‘Dus dan om wesen eenen sonderlinghen Schilder/ moet ghy fraey zijn in alle dinghen’ [So to be a exceptional painter, you must be reputable in all things] (Miedema 1973A, p. 220); Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 93): ‘It is proverbial that he who gives himself up to learning and mediating difficult things will easily apprehend the simpler’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 15: ‘De Natuerlijke gave van een bequamen geest, mach wel geleken worden by een vruchtbaren akker: maer het onderwijs is het zaet, daer de ware vruchten van te verwachten staen. Die dan door een geduerige oeffening, en geduldigen arbeit rijp worden’ [The natural gift of a competent mind may be compared to a fruitful soil: teaching is the seed from which true fruit is to be expected. Which then, through constant practice and patient effort, ripen]. Van Hoogstraaten 1678, p. 237: ‘De vaerdicheit komt door een langduerige oeffening, en ‘t veel doen’ [The skill comes through prolonged practice, and doing it often]. Emmens 1981-IH, p. 142. Blankert 1999, p. 18. Broos 1993, p. 8. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996. Miedema 1988A, p. 15, on the other hand, uses a much narrower description: ‘I would like to state explicitly here that Alberti's “istoria” means nothing more than: that which can be seen in the painting’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 19; Alberti also regularly explains what his steps consist of (Spencer 1966, p. 59). Emmens 1964, pp. 32-38, 68, 94, 117-118; Emmens 1981-IIA, p. 11 points out that this seventeenth-century view is still known to Houbraken. Miedema 1989A, pp. 25, 32, 115116, 176-177. Emmens 1981-IIA, p. 12. Emmens 1981-IIA, p. 16: Latin ‘studium’, Italian ‘exercitatio’. See also pp. 19-20 in which Emmens discusses Van Mander, Junius and Van Hoogstraten. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 16. Houbraken 1721, III, p. 211. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 59); idem Vasari (Blunt 1978, p. 96): ‘As a result of the study and practice of many years the hand must be free and skilled in drawing and copying whatever nature has produced’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 191, 16; idem Brusati 1995, p. 314, n. 23. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 63): ‘Because this [process of] learning may perhaps appear a fatiguing thing to young people, I ought to prove here that painting is not unworthy of consuming all our time and study’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 11-12, 13: ‘Maer ik zoude niemant toelaten, ten ware ik in hem eenen zeer bezigen en bespiegelenden geest bespeurde’ [But I would not admit anyone unless I detected in him a very busy and reflective mind]; Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 58); Da Vinci (Blunt 1978, p. 36): ‘Painting can only be learnt by those whom it has been granted by nature’; Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 64) speaks of ‘aangeboren gevoel voor de schilderkunst’ [an innate feeling for the art of painting], ‘niet ophielden op ons eigen houtje met onze kinderlijke pogingen na te teekenen, wat ons in koper of hout gesneden onder 295 oogen kwam’ [did not cease to draw on our own with our childish efforts, what came before us carved in copper or wood], ‘onze aanleg’ [our talent], ‘nu hij ook voor deze kunst rijp was geworden’ now that he had also become ripe for this art]. 988. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 21; and on p. 280: ‘Alle menschen, zegt Plutarchus zijn niet begaeft met de zelve oordeelens kracht, ‘t eene gezicht is meer door de natuur of door de konst geholpen om het schoone te onderkennen’ [All human beings, says Plutarchus are not gifted with the same capacity for judgment; one view is more helped by nature or by art to recognize the beautiful]. 989. Van Hoogstraaten 1678, p. 16. 990. Emmens 1964, p. 32, points to the ancient provenance of such a formulation when he adopts Vondel’s translation of Horace (Ars Poetica): ‘men heeft onderzocht of men door natuur of door kunst een goet vaers dicht. Ick zie niet wat voordeel het staen naer de kunst, zonder eene rijcke ader, inbrenge; nochte oock niet wat nut een ongeslepen vernuft bare’ [one has examined whether by nature or by art one writes a good verse. I do not see what advantage the pursuit of art has, without a rich vein, to bring in; nor what use an unskilled ingenuity bears]. This classical conception of art involves, according to Emmens ‘just as studium without an ingenium is meaningless, so too is ingenium without a studium leading to folly’. 991. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 96): ‘Thus there were unequal faculties in each, for nature gives to each intellect its own gifts. We ought, therefore, not to be so content with them that through negligence we tire of trying to advance with our study as far as we can. The gifts of nature should be cultivated with study and exercise and thus from day to day made greater. We should pass over nothing in our negligence which can bring us praise’. 992. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 59). 993. Emmens 1964, pp. 30-37. 994. Emmens 1964 concentrated primarily on the conflict between classical art theory and preclassicist art conceptions. Unfortunately, the latter term is not very illuminating, because the differences and similarities between the various ‘concepts of art’ in the early modern era are not clearly distinguishable, as will become apparent. 995. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 92); idem Van Hoogstraten 1678. 996. Baxandall 1988, pp. 130-131. He points out that ‘compositio’ is a technical term (known to humanist trained readers), which hierarchically establishes the dependence of the elements. For criticism of the way in which he transposes a rhetorical-linear model to the image, see Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 135, n. 50, Van den Akker 1991; Greenstein 1992. Spies pointed out that the rhetorical structure of any writing (including on the art of painting) can be analyzed. However, this does not yet imply that rhetorical knowledge can be used to give an opinion on the material (on the art of painting or on a painting) treated in it. 997. Miedema 1989A, p. 179. 998. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 95-96). 999. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 72, 69-73; Da Vinci (Alpers 1989, p. 72). 1000. Van Hoogstraten mentions Philips Mornay, Bijbel der Natuere [Bible of the Nature] (1581). Emmens 1964, p. 121, points out that van Hoogstraten ‘explicitly compares this with the Aristotelian three natures of the soul: the vegetative, the sensitive, and the intelligible’ while also relying on the rhetorical triad. For the threefold division in life, see Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, p. 35). Brusati 1995, pp. 237-240 states that Van Hoogstraten exchanges the rhetorical system for a system of the natural order because of his interest in the visible world. Vollemans 1998, p. 108. 1001. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 86: ‘Wy zien de kruiden, bloemen, Edele gesteenten, en wat’er meerder zonder beweegen groeyt’ [We see the herbs, flowers, Noble rocks, and what else grows without moving]; Burke 1989, pp. 26-28 points to the more extensive system of the French humanist Charles de Bouelles (early 16th century) that distinguishes four levels of 296 1002. 1003. 1004. 1005. 1006. 1007. 1008. 1009. 1010. 1011. 1012. 1013. 1014. existence. The first degree of Van Hoogstraten is further broken down here: existence as a stone and life as a plant. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 86. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 86: ‘Geen minder verschil van waerdigheyt is ‘er tusschen deeze simpel leevende en gevoelende werking in de dieren, en de Reedewikkende uitvoering van den mensch (...) Maer wie zouw al de veranderlijke werkingen, die van de menschen, door ‘t zoo zeer verschillende reedewikken, bedreeven worden, kunnen optellen, of in zijn verstand begrijpen? wat vangt de wil niet al aen? En wat voert de Fortuin niet al uit?’ [No less a difference of dignity is there between this simply living and feeling working in the animals, and the Reason examining working of man (...). But who could add up, or contain in his mind, all those changeable workings which are propelled by man's so differently inquiring mind? Where does not the will all begin? And what does not Fortune accomplish?] Stevin, PWS IV, pp. 107-109 and in Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 44: ‘Species generis’ is ‘al de deelen eens geheels, of afcomsten eens gheslachts’ [all the parts of a whole, or offspring of a family], see also pp. 18, 10, 40, 48. Bryson 1993, p. 17. Emmens 1964, p. 119, confirms this: ‘In this series, which for us is chaotic, classicism and 18th century aesthetics will bring a rigorous order. The sharp and hierarchical separation between beauty and life made by De Bisschop [Paradigmata Graphices variorum Artificum, Amsterdam 1670] can be seen as the beginning of this’. Incidentally, in my opinion, Emmens incorrectly interprets Van Hoogstraten’s presentation (because he calls him a ‘transitional figure’) as a ‘hierarchical ranking’, and in a normative sense: ‘The lowest rated are the “everyday preferences” of the artists he calls “general Soldiers in the field army of art” the so-called “parerga”, which includes paintings of lizards and ruins’ (italics hdm). Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 303, 87: ‘deeze Schilderyen evenwel niet hooger, als in den eersten graed der konstwerken moogen gestelt worden’ [these Paintings may not, however, be placed higher than in the first degree of the works of art]. De Vries 1998, pp. 109-113. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 77; Bryson 1993, p. 178, n. 2 discusses this ancient term in ‘Rhopografie’, but he prefers the modern term because of its negative sound. ‘In the debates in the academy, rhopography is invariably pushed aside by the superior position of megalography’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 85: ‘Op deeze hoogstverheven trap van der Schilderkonst’ [On this most exalted stage of the art of painting]; p. 87: ‘De Schilderyen dan, die tot den derden en hoogsten graed behooren, zijn die de edelste beweegingen en willen der Reedewikkende schepselen den menschen vertoonen’ [The Paintings then, which belong to the third and highest degree, are those which seek to exhibit the noblest motions of human beings who contemplate Reason]; Angel 1642, pp. 47-48. A ‘Historia’ (‘geschiedenis’), which is also mentioned by Stevin (Wysentijt, pp. 23-24: ‘Want *geschiedennissen [Historia], als hoe Paris Helena ontschaecte, en wat grote slagen Achilles slouch. Die en derghelijcke stof conden de Mimi te kennen gheven deut grimmatsen sonderspreken’ [For *histories [Historia], such as how Paris abducted Helena, and what great battles Achilles struck. Such substance the Mime players could make known by grimacing without speaking]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 81. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 86-87. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 87. Blankert 1999, p. 14: ‘The position of the history piece in the view of art at that time can be compared to that of the novel in the current hierarchy of written texts’. 297 1015. About history painting: Blankert 1999, p. 13: ‘artistic quality’, ‘astonishingly high’, ‘the most sought-after, best paid and busiest discussed’, ‘highly estimated’, ‘high amounts’, ‘highly valued’; p. 14: (on De Lairesse and Van der Werff) ‘they had achieved the highest conceivable in painting’, ‘they excelled in biblical, mythological and allegorical subjects’, ‘the highest in the hierarchy of subjects that a painter could choose’, ‘first create an image in his mind’, ‘making a good history painting was all in all the highest a painter could aspire to or achieve’; p. 15: ‘the moderate, the “normal” and the balanced’, ‘the “antimodern”’, ‘hopefully uninhibited again with the classicists in search of their holy grail’; ‘clarity’, ‘distinction’, ‘careful attention’, ‘detailed execution’, ‘Italian-style’, ‘in response to what was felt to be whim and excess’, ‘extremely austere, classicist architecture’, ‘simplicity’, ‘guideline of fixed rules’, ‘art laws’, ‘codified’, ‘well-minded’, ‘whoever aspires to make real art must obey those unchanging laws’, ‘the highest ambition’; Broos 1993, p. 8: ‘to give moral meaning’, ‘highly classified genre’; p. 10: ‘highest attainable’, ‘the ideal subject of the ambitious artist’; ‘the perfection’, ‘place of honor’, ‘highest degree of painting’, ‘a quality that transcended simple imitation’, ‘had to be accompanied by a certain mentality’; Haak 1984, p. 78; Raupp 1984, p. 410. All other painting (including genre painting) so highly valued in modern times, see Blankert 1999: p. 14: was ‘simply painting what he saw before his eyes’; p. 15, ‘drastic naturalism’, ‘“low selection” from what nature sets before us’, ‘fierce dynamics reminiscent of expressionism’, ‘felt as extreme and extravagant’, ‘fierceness’, ‘wild movement’, ‘broad brushwork’. 1016. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 190-191. 1017. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 319. 1018. Angel 1642, p. 44: ‘Ten achsten, dient hier by ghevonden te werden een nietmin ervaren verstant in kennisse der Hystorien om voor te komen de misverstanden der uyt-beeldinghe die de onervaerne door haer nalatende slofficheyt van niet te lesen, veeltijts komen te begaen’ [In the eighth place, a nonetheless experienced mind with a knowledge of history should be found here to prevent the misunderstandings in the portrayal that the inexperienced by her neglectful omission of not reading, will often commit]. 1019. Idem Da Vinci (Blunt 1978, p. 34). 1020. ‘Plot’ (‘sujet’, as articulated by Russian formalists) refers to narratological ‘intrigue’, ‘entanglement’, ‘manipulation’ in the sense of adaptation in which the elements of the linear narrative (story, or ‘fable’) are rearranged and can only be reconstructed at the end of the ‘story’ (Bal 1980, Poppe 1984, Bordwell 1997). Miedema 1989, p. 80 rightly refers to this distinction: ‘... I noticed that a story takes place linearly, discursively in time, but that the depictions are momentarily, as points on that line, and that those points group around core events in the story: some scenes are always depicted, others never’. 1021. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 78). 1022. The Grebber 1649 (Blankert 1999), rule III: ‘Het principaelste van de Historie moet in het schoonste van ‘t stuck en vooraen ghebracht werden’ [The principal aspect of History must be brought into the most beautiful part of the piece and in front]. 1023. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 178. 1024. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 108-109. Moreover, Angel 1642, p. 48 emphasizes, the painter has the freedom to read a certain history in different versions (books) and make his choice from them. 1025. Angel 1642, p. 46: ‘datmen wel tot vercieringhe van sijn werck die vryheyt die de Schilders in dese toe ghelaten is, ghebruycken mach, maer niet misbruycken tot af-breucke en krenkinghe van den sin der Hystorie’ [that one may use the freedom that the painters are allowed in this matter for the decoration of their work, but not abuse it to the detriment and harm of the sense of the History]. 298 1026. Blunt 1978, p. 37: ‘If the imagined vision is not built up of material collected directly from nature it will be vague and incomplete because “The imagination does not see such splendor as the eyes see”’. 1027. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 96-97, 123-163. 1028. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 135. 1029. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 141. 1030. Emmens 1964, p. 122, also note 222 and note 156. 1031. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, p. 180: 'A history is therefore not only a “painting with a historical subject” (...), but a painting in which any event, even a plunder of peasants by soldiers, is depicted’; on p. 179: ‘A history piece is, according to seventeenth-century views, a painting that depicts an event, be it historical, biblical, legendary, mythological, or even from everyday life, always depicted with characters’. 1032. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 76): ‘If it is allowed here, there ought to be some nude and others part nude and part clothed in the painting; but always make use of shame and modesty. The parts ugly to see and in the same way others which give little pleasure should be covered with draperies, with a few fronds or the hand.’ Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 284: Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 284: ‘Nu dewijl men niet altijts een geheel naekt schildert, zoo moetmen zich voor al de deelen, die meest gezien worden, bevlytigen: en nae schoone tronyen, welgemaekte halzen en welgeplaetste borsten omzien’ [Now while one does not always paint a whole nude, so one must strive for all the parts, which are most seen: and according to most beautiful faces, well-made necks and well-placed breasts deal with care], further, pp. 184-185, 176. 1033. Apart from a painting by Giotto, Alberti always mentions descriptions of Greek scenes. For Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 286-291: ‘Hoe de Schoonheyt by d’Ouden is betracht’ [How Beauty was considered by the Ancients]. 1034. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 189. 1035. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 98-100. 1036. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 104-105. 1037. Blunt 1978, pp. 91-92. 1038. Emmens 1964. 1039. Van de Waal 1946, pp. 39-40. 1040. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 72-73: ‘maer die met recht den naem van Meester in Historyen draegen wil, moet ook raet weten, als ‘t nood doet tot bywerk’ [but the one who rightly wants to bear the name of Master of Histories must also know how to handle, if side-work is needed]. 1041. Vollemans 1998, p. 98. 1042. De Pauw-de Veen 1969, pp. 103-104. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 85: ‘Want die dezen trap, die de hoogste is, waerdichlijk beklimt, is in de konst niet alleen een opperste Veltheer, maer zelfs een gebiedende Prins’ [For he who worthily climbs this staircase, which is the highest, is in art not only a supreme Field Commander, but even an imperative Prince]. 1043. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 321. 1044. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 278-279. He mentions the three graces here, see also p. 100. 1045. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 96): ‘Thus there were unequal faculties in each, for nature gives to each intellect its own gifts’. 1046. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 73: ‘Doch de geene, die ‘t algemeen onmachtich zijn, zalmen toelaeten, en ten is niet te misprijzen, dat zy eenich deel verkiezen, daer toe zy zich zelven bequaemst vinden’ [But those who are incapable of general knowledge will be admitted, and it is not to be despised that they choose any part in which they think themselves most competent]. Broos 1993, p. 10 denies this, however, when he states that Van Mander, like Van Hoogstraten, ‘did not entirely disapprove of specialization’, but that they nevertheless considered history painting to be the highest art. 299 1047. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 96), Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 74. 1048. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 74: ‘De konst strekt zich in zoo wijde velden uit, dat geen vernuftigh geest verlegen zal staen, om een wech te vinden, daer hem niemant zal kunnen achterhaelen’ [The art extends in so wide a field, that no ingenious mind will be shy, to find a way, where no one will be able to pass him]. 1049. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 44. 1050. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 96). 1051. The Grebber 1649 (Blankert 1999), rule II: ‘Is ‘t van noode datmen de Historien wel doorleest: (bysonder als het schriftuerlijcke ofte waerachtighe Historien zijn) om den sin soo nae als ‘t moghelijck is wel uyt te beelden’ [It is necessary that one should read the Historien carefully: (especially if they are biblical or true Historien) in order to portray the sense as near as possible]. 1052. Sutton 1980; De Jongh 1980; Huizinga 1976; Miedema 1989A: Haak 1984; North 1997. 1053. Haak 1984, p. 70. 1054. For example: Alpers 1983, p. 33; Vandenbroeck 1992, p. 29; De Jongh 1986, pp. 14-15; Halbertsma 1991, pp. 73-74; Hollander 1990, p. 4; Gramaccini 1998, pp. 90-91. In addition, literature often pays attention to the architectural development of church interiors (another ‘typically Dutch’ phenomenon). Jantzen 1979, p. 1; Giltaij & Jansen 1991. 1055. Von Weiher 1937, pp. 2-3. 1056. Gramaccini 1998, p. 98. 1057. By the way, Coulton & Power 1928, p. xvi, on the basis of chronology, establishes a relation between Le Ménagier de Paris and the work of the Flemish primitives. 1058. Panofsky 1971. 1059. Praz 1964; P. Thornton 1990, 1991; D. Thornton 1997. 1060. In art history the Italian art this period is described in terms of ‘dramatic’, ‘bizarre’, ‘deliberately chaotic’, ‘unrest’, ‘eccentric’, ‘without any rules’, ‘eclectic’, ‘unreal colors’, ‘instability’, ‘bewildering mixture’, ‘tense climate’ in which the harmony and calm of the past have been destroyed (Zuffi 1997, p. 135). Janson 1961, p. 374: ‘chilly, often infertile seeming formalism’, ‘a special form of expression’, ‘of a more encompassing movement that considered the “inner vision”, however subjective or fantastic, more important than the laws of nature and the classics’. Honour & Fleming 1999, pp. 504-506: ‘highly prized quality of stylishness’, ‘ease of manner’, ‘virtuosity’, ‘fluency’, ‘refinement’, ‘expression of spiritual crises’, ‘sophisticated art created solely for art’s sake’, ‘swirling into the heavens’, ‘whirling the spectator up’, ‘displaying well-turned limbs as they gyrate in space’, ‘unearthly elegance’, ‘slightly uncomfortable visionary quality’, ‘willful distortion’, ‘manipulation’, 'most irregular’, ‘contradictions are disturbing’, ‘the rules they infringed’. 1061. Honour & Fleming 1999, pp. 504-509; Janson 1961; Stumpel 1990A; Blunt 1978, pp. 103, 84. 1062. Honig 1998. 1063. Bryson 1993; Verschaffel 1997. 1064. Muchembled 1991B, p. 12. 1065. Dresen-Coenders 1977, 1983, 1987, 1988A and B; Bleyerveld 2000. 1066. Bleyerveld 2000, p. 12; according to Bleyerveld they are ‘symbolic representations of the relations between man and woman’, they ‘express ideas about the ideal behavior of man and woman and about the desired relations between both sexes’ and thus ‘reflect gender constructions of early modern society’ (p. 18). See also Veldman 1985A. 1067. Miedema 1989A, pp. 161, 163-164, 166. 1068. Miedema 1989A, p. 106. For further comments on early modern market forces, ‘the growth of the market’ in relation to an ‘increasing need for visual material’, the appearance of a ‘differentiated audience’ (on the one hand a ‘vulgar’, ‘less developed audience’ that reacted to ‘more easily approachable’, ‘lower (preferably erotic) aspects’, on the other hand the 300 1069. 1070. 1071. 1072. 1073. 1074. 1075. 1076. 1077. 1078. 1079. 1080. 1081. 1082. 1083. ‘scholarly’, ‘erudite reading’ by ‘the more developed who knew how to fathom the more elevated meaning of the depicted’, see pp. 99, 102-103,144, 161-162, 163-164, 166. Miedema 1989A, p. 103. By the way, this portrait also belongs in the row of paintings that have made their way through history with great success. I found this paintng in De Jongh 1986; Falkenburg 1993; Ridderbos 1995, pp. 68-72; Bedaux 1990; Hollander 1990; Halbertsma 1981, pp. 6794; Cole 1993, p. 11; Panofsky 1971; Coulton & Power 1928; Kemp 1998, pp. 20, 22; Gramaccini 1998, p. 91; Haverkamp 1998, p. 63. Kemp 1998, p. 19, in reference to Arnolfini-portrait writs: ‘haben wir das Gefühl, dass sich das Innere zu füllen beginnt und an atmosphärischer Substanz gewinnt. Diese Entdeckung des Raumklimas, da sich einmal zum Stimmungsraum verdichten wird, ist aber nicht die einzige, nicht die wichtigste Antwort auf die Frage nach dem “innerlich bewegende Prinzip”, der “immanenten Bestimmtheit“ der res extensa. Und die letzte Formulierung Hegels aufzugreifen: Was könnte also die erste Bestimmung der Immanenz sein, die das Interieur ist, seitdem es das Puppenstubenstadium hinter sich gelassen hat? Die Antwort ist ebenso einfach wie folgenreich: “Dieses Innenraumproblem ist ja im Interieur Bild so gelöst, dass der Maler seinen Standpunkt innerhalb des darzustellenden Raumes annimmt und nur einen Teil desselben wiedergibt”. Womit er den Betrachter zum Komplizen der Situation macht’. Halbertsma 1981, 1991; Bedaux 1990, p. 11 concludes, for example: ‘In fact, it became more and more apparent that the Arnolfini portrait was an accurate depiction of a specific wedding, and therefore of the appropriate customs and gifts.’ See also Bedaux 1990, pp. 47-48. Possibly the genealogical traces go back further to Byzantium or the Pompeian murals, according to Praz 1994; Hollander 1990, p. 4. Panofsky 1971, pp. 24-26. Within the Europe of the 14th and 15th centuries, the Flemish-French region was the largest supplier of illumined books. Panofsky 1971, pp. 28 ff. Panofsky 1971, pp. 30-50 (Jean Pucelle, first half 14th century). Panofsky 1971, p. 34. Panofsky 1971, pp. 37, 53 (Jean Bondol, born in Bruges, active in Paris 1368-1381). Panofsky 1971, p. 44 (Jacquemart de Hesdin, mentioned as the illustrator of Duc de Berry (1384), who places the virgin in the Annunciation instead of in a ‘doll’s house’ in a kind of Gothic nave). Panofsky 1971, pp. 59 (The Boucicaut Master, late 14th century). ‘Nativity’, according to biblical indications, often takes place in a stable, indicated by the timber frame of a simple one-nave house, of which sometimes only (part of) the roof is covered, sometimes (part of) a side wall, often with a view of the elements outside (trees, landscape). The child sits on Mary’s lap, lies in a large bed, or later just on the floor (sometimes on a ‘halo’), while next to (the old) Joseph and some animals, sometimes a female character, sometimes angels, sometimes visitors are included. Directly related to this is the ‘Adoration of the Magi’, in which the same ‘open-worked’ architecture is used. The Adoration of the Magi usually takes place in a ‘stable, namely often in or in front of wooden constructions with thatched roofs, sometimes with the animals present. ‘The birth of John the Baptist’ often takes place in an ‘ordinary’ house. Elizabeth lies in a four-poster bed, with the sheets and blankets well covered, sometimes with the child in her arms, sometimes with the child in a cradle. Especially in Italy and Germany, the ‘Birth of the Virgin’ remains a theme for a long time. It contains the same characteristics of different chambers, domestic activities, household goods and a few characters; it is remarkable that windows are often missing. Broos 1993, pp. 364-365. 301 1084. Meiss 1976A, pp. 5-6. Fifteenth century verse (quoted in Zantkuijl 1993; De Vries 1994, p. 422, note 6. Meiss 1976C, pp. 58, 50: ‘Een glas al heel dat schijnt daer door, Ten breket niet van der sonnen; So heeft ene maghet nae ende voor, Joncfrouwe een kint gewonnen’ [A whole glass through which the sun shines does not break; So a former virgin and a young woman won a child afterwards]. 1085. ‘Just as the brilliance of the sun fills and penetrates a glass window without damaging it, and pierces its solid form with imperceptible subtlety, neither hurting it when entering nor destroying it when emerging: thus the word of God, the splendor of the Father, entered the virgin chamber and then came forth from the closed womb’ (quoted in Meiss 1976A, p. 5). 1086. Meiss 1976A, pp. 15-16, note 8; Timmers 1974, p. 236. 1087. For the transformation of Joseph from a ‘servile grey man to a young man, from a peasant type to a respectable citizen’ in the course of the fifteenth century, and the recognition of Joseph as a ‘loving father and faithful husband who reasonably runs his family in a hostile world’, whereby Joseph was officially recognized as a saint at the Council of Trent in the sixteenth century, but also the holy household became more prominent, at the expense of holy virginity, see Brandenbarg 1992, pp. 185-190; also Halbertsma 1991, p. 73; DresenCoenders 1988A, p. 23. 1088. Panofsky 1971, p. 46. 1089. Halbertsma 1991, p. 73. 1090. Timmers 1974, pp. 75, 134. 1091. Brandenbarg 1992. 1092. Timmers 1974, pp. 80-82; Hall 1975, pp. 200, 188-189. 1093. Timmers 1974, p. 302; Hall 1974, p. 317. 1094. In Greek times, everyday things are mainly depicted on vases, Richter 1974. 1095. Miedema 1989A, pp. 101-102. 1096. Miedema 1989A, p. 102; De Jongh 1998; Van den Akker 1991 1097. Van de Passe (Bolten 1973); Bolten 1979, 1985. 1098. Van den Akker 1991, pp. 35-51. 1099. Luijten et al. 1993; Blankert 1999; Broos 1993. 1100. Arcimboldi’s work has been interpreted as ‘an ancestor of surrealism’, or ‘in the light of the setting sun of the Renaissance, when a renewed attention (by collectors and in scientific studies) for nature occurs’, according to Zuffi 1998, p. 234. For Bosch, see also Moxey 1994. Although the author raises several interesting issues in ‘Making “Genius”’ (pp. 111147) (the link between Bosch’s figures and the marginal book illuminations of the centuries before), the interpretation remains social: it merely proves (with reference to Foucault) the more important role of the artist as a ‘genius’ as a ‘social construction’ (pp. 146-147). 1101. Bange 1985, pp. 52, 71-78, 189; Dresen-Coenders 1988, pp. 7, 48, 33; Vignau WilbergSchuurman 1983, pp. 31-38. 1102. Bange 1985, pp. 61, 62, 66-76, 186-188, 193-194, Dresen-Coenders, 1988A, pp. 11, 13; Peeters 1988, p. 85. 1103. Dresen-Coenders 1988A, p. 30; Peeters 1988, pp. 94, 181. See Miedema 1989A, p. 102, Muchembled 1991B, p. 11, Vandenbroeck 1987A and B, 1991, 1992, who primarily interpreted such representations in social terms, starting from an alleged psychology of the viewer of that time. 1104. Often these are themes that have a longer history, had a heyday in sixteenth-century printmaking, and remained popular into the seventeenth century. 1105. Bleyerveld 2000, p. 12, p. 14: ‘... When [the theme of] The Power of Women penetrate art from the thirteenth century onwards, the motif has a centuries-long literary tradition behind it. Examples of famous men who fall prey to women together form a standard formula that appears with great regularity in medieval texts to express ideas about the fatal influence of 302 1106. 1107. 1108. 1109. 1110. 1111. 1112. women and love’. p. 13: ‘... when the Power of Women theme permeates the Dutch visual arts, [it is] already about two hundred years old’. Vignau Wiberg-Schuurman 1983, pp. 43-58, by the way, points out that there are differences in the tradition of certain ‘love affairs’; usually these images in which the roles of women and men are turned upside down are explained from a socio-economic, politicalreligious transformation that would have preceded it. See among others Bange 1985; Dresen-Coenders 1988A; also, Moxey 1989, pp. 101-126, but also Pleij 1988. Dresen-Coenders 1988A; Bange 1985, pp. 13, 180-182. Incidentally, Jansen-Sieben & De Winter 1989, pp. 11-15 equally contest the prevailing view that the prints of ‘The Battle for the Trousers’ reflect the subordination of women at this time. For a long time, the laundry and clothing formed the bastion of the mistress of the house and the kitchen was added in this period. The prints in which the man is depicted subordinate to the woman are precisely for this reason also called ‘Jan de Wasser’ [John the Launderer] prints. On p. 15: ‘The moral of these prints and verses therefore does not seem to us to be that of the oppression of women to the role of subservient housekeeper, but rather the upgrading of women to kitchen princess. Look at the tough kitchen maids in the paintings by Pieter Aertsen, who with a gesture of triumph thread the turkeys on the spit. That used to be men’s work, which didn’t involve women’. The many publications devoted to the special imagery of this period (emblems, witches, grotesques, werewolves, savages, jesters, farmers, but also curiosities cabinets and trompe l’oeils et cetera) confirm this in fact. However, the moral content that the image would convey is usually given priority, and the image is regarded as an illustration of social developments that occur at some point in time (see, for example, Löwensteyn 1986, pp. 249-259; Vandenbroeck 1987A, pp. 75-76; Porteman 1998, pp. 6-11; Sluijter & Spaans 2001, p. 78). It can just as well be argued that the divergent (known, but also many unknown) stories are deepened because they can serve as a suitable starting point to give free rein to the visual imagination. Instead of looking for the original explanatory texts that can explain visual elements, the inverse explanations are just as relevant, if not more meaningful: visual multiplication helps certain stories to blossom and grow into an interpretation of reality. For example, the visible world of the image - for Luther the domain of the devil - can thus (because populated by monstrous figures) lead to a persecution of inappropriate people in reality (Thomas 1971, pp. 560-598). For this view see for instance publications by Bleyerveld, De Jongh, Löwensteyn, Miedema, Sluijter, Vandenbroeck, Veldman. For a discussion of this mode of interpretation, see De Mare 1997A. See De Mare 1997A, pp. 128-129 and De Mare 2000. By the way, I am not referring to those approaches in which the question of ‘betekenis’ (De Jongh) or ‘meaning’ (Panofsky) is modernized by placing the primacy – in line with Anglo-Saxon semiotics – on (linguistic or cultural) sign systems. Terms such as ‘sign system’ or ‘ideology’ serve – because of the implicit link that is assumed with social reality – as rigid and inflexible frames of thought that make a historical questioning difficult if not impossible. Art is understood as an ideological construction and ideology is seen as a cultural semiotics (Moxey 1989, pp. 7-8, Bryson 1983). The conclusion soon becomes mechanical. Moxey 1989, p. 129: ‘If we accept the status of works of art as cultural sign systems, they must be regarded as important in the construction of social “reality” as the class system, the organization of labor, the nature of religious belief, the Schembartlauf, and the carnival plays. The images of peasants, warriors, and wives discussed in the preceding chapters helped mold a world picture, one that determined social experience’. Many of the intermediate products generated in early modern times are considered by contemporary researchers to represent the lowest mode: folk and peasants. However, since the end of the 1980s, the comic, which is bound to the lowest mode in rhetoric, has been 303 1113. 1114. 1115. 1116. 1117. 1118. 1119. 1120. 1121. 1122. 1123. 1124. interpreted as socially inferior, and it is taken for granted that the ‘popular’ and ‘peasant’ depictions are humorous in the modern sense and thus arouse laughter. See for instance the biased interpretations and terms used by Porteman 1995 and 1998, Muylle 1994, Vandenbroek 1987A, but they are also commonplace with other authors, such as Unverfert 1984, Renger 1984 et cetera. This while – as will be shown in section 4.2.3 – these ‘eccentric’ combinations are the product of a epistemological transformation of the image and, because of their titillating properties, are used to support memory, to strengthen the memoria and enable the circulation of knowledge. It would therefore be more interesting – instead of postulating a probable socio-psychological background, with emphasis on the (obviously) comic, low, folk, monstrous, et cetera – to examine the nature of these images and determine their status in the broader context of the rules of the art of painting. For example, Febvre & Martin 1998, p. 92, point out that ‘foliage, animals and grotesques’ appearing in the first books around 1475 are not specifically German and ‘derive straight from the manuscript tradition’. Van den Akker 1991; Luijten et al. 1993; Aikema & Brown 1999. Shearman 1991, pointing to 19th century terms such as ‘unnatural’ and ‘decadent’, refers to historical meanings attached to this phenomenon, such as ‘effortless skill and refinement’, ‘the opposite of undisguised passion, visible effort and rough naturalness’, ‘courtly grace’, ‘refinement and abstraction of nature, which could be right or wrong’, ‘excellence in artificiality’, ‘artificial imitation of nature’, ‘balance’, ‘elegant’, ‘stylized mode’, ‘effortless solution’, ‘sprezzatura’, ‘civilized nonchalance’, ‘perfect mastery’, ‘preference for complexity over simplicity’, ‘bizarre fantasy, caprice’, ‘high appreciation for wit, fantasy and invention’, ‘virtuosity’, ‘explicitly cultivated grace’, ‘abstracted natural behavior’, ‘more sensual’, ‘figura serpentinata’. Friedländer and Posner speak for instance of ‘irrational spatial construction, figure elongation’. Moxey 1977, p. 268: ‘It is difficult to escape the conclusion that the work of Aertsen en Beuckelaer constitutes a prognostication of the enormous flowering of popular imagery that would take place in Calvinist Holland in the 17th century. The nominal Catholicism of Aertsen and Beuckelaer notwithstanding, the character of their work coincides remarkably with Calvin’s call for an art of the visible, in which the representation of landscapes and “persons that one paints without any meaningful intention” could play a large role’. Cole 1993, pp. 32-33; Wright 1983, pp. 154-15; Leeman 1984; Fraenger 1975, p. 63. Alpers 1983, pp. 217-218. Van de Wetering 1997, pp. 47-73. See also De Jongh & Luijten 1997. Honig 1998; Meadow 1995. Van Heemskerck, for example, makes a series of prints with famous biblical women (bp. 184), such as Jäel, Ruth, Abigal, Judith, Esther, Suzanna, Mary and Mary Magdalene. They also appear on panel at this time (bp. 158). For the prints by Maarten van Heemskerck (1498-1574) and D.V. Coornhert see Veldman 1980, 1986, 1990, 1993-1994; Bange 1985, pp. 17-35. Elkins 1994; Edgerton 1993; Wright 1983; Cole 1993; Kemp 1990. Jantzen 1979, p. 22 over De Vries: ‘Hierin wird zunächts die perspektivische Konstruktion einfachster kubischer Gegenstände gezeigt, es werden dann einzelne Bauglieder in den Bildraum gebracht, die allmählich zu grösseren Gebilden zusammengesetzt werden. Es entstehen endlich Innenräume, Häuser usw., und die Häuser werden wieder zu Strassenfluchten’. Haak 1984, p. 326. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 103, by the way, speaks once literally about ‘het heylig huis, daer Maria gebooren was, en de boodschap ontfangen hadde’ [the holy house, when Mary was born, and had received the message]. 304 1125. Hesling 1991; Lauwaert 1989; Eisenstein 1979. 1126. This twice concerns women who are married and out of fear of childlessness seduce their father or father-in-law. 1127. Alpers 1983, p. 11. 1128. Gramaccini 1998, p. 94. ‘Subjectivation’, ‘interiorisierung’, he considers qualities and privileges of Christian man. And on p. 97 the author goes a step further: ‘Wer die Geschichte des Innenlebens in seiner Breite überblickt, kann sich des Eindruckes nicht erwehren, dass dem Norden Europas im Unterschied zum Süden einen besondere Affinität zum Intimen und Privaten eigen ist. Daher hat die nordische Kultur auf die Ästhetik des Interieurs einen massgeblichen Einfluss ausgeübt. Man mag sich fragen, ob ein gehobenes Bewusstsein den Ausschlag für die Bevorzugung von Innenräumen gegeben hat, oder ob diese Verlagerung nicht die Folge einer klimatisch und zivilisatorisch auferlegten Beschränkung gewesen sei’. 1129. With the exception of the work by Gerard Dou that is formerly dated, I mention as most important the work of Cornelis Bishop, Hendrick van der Burch, Samuel van Hoogstraten, Pieter Janssens Elinga, Ludolf de Jongh, Isaak Koedijk, Nicolaes Maes, Gabriël Metsu, Frans and Willem van Mieris, Jan Miense Molenaer, Cornelis de Man, Michiel Musscher, Caspar Netscher, Jacob Ochtervelt, Hendrick Sorgh, Jan Steen, Gerard Terborch, Johannes Vermeer, Jacobus Vrel, and Emanuel de Witte. For an overview, see Haak 1984. 1130. De Mare 1999, pp. 13-30. 1131. Westermann 1996A, p. Idem Westermann 1996B, p. 15: ‘So, if Steen’s picture, which seems so “real”, comically distorts the Dutch household, is De Hooch’s version more true to Dutch life? (…) His painting depicts a positive ideal of the household, an ideal that Steen turned upside down for the viewer’s amusement and edification. Many Dutch pictures offered meaningful delight precisely because they oscillate between a faithful reconstruction of reality and a positive or negative articulation of social ideals’. 1132. Miedema 1989A, p. 114: ‘Ideas about the source value of Jan Steen’s paintings have changed dramatically in recent years. Until just a few decades ago, Jan Steen’s households were a blatant depiction of the mess that was at the painter’s house and implicitly deduced that the man had been a notorious drunk, nowadays we read in it the moral intentions that the painter put into it and we know that Steen was a very respectable citizen. Even the seemingly most uncomplicated interiors with neat citizens deceive us with gestures that on closer inspection turn out to be obscene and doctors wearing a costume that was used only on stage at the time. Whether the interior could have looked like this? Possibly, but there is always the danger that we overlook something that would show that it could not have been like this at all’. 1133. See for overview Chapman 1996. 1134. Fuchs 1996. 1135. Westermann 1996A, p. 61. 1136. In this respect I do not agree with Westermann 1996A who believes that Steen used exceptional color combinations. She writes on p. 61 (in reference to ‘In weelde siet toe’ [Beware of Luxury]): ‘He juxtaposed bright and even swearing colors: the yellow and light blue of the inviting young woman collide with the pink, red and chestnut-brown tones of her lover’. 1137. On this point, too, I disagree with Westermann 1996A: ‘A loose handling of the brush often made Stone's reality even messier’. 1138. Westermann 1996, p. 61. ‘But while Steen on the one hand (...) chose postures and gestures that suited age, sexual potency and position, he also used such codes wrongly, because of the funny effect. Thus dangerous, seductive women offer the drink with elegant gestures’. 1139. See Sutton 1980, no. 53. 305 1140. See ‘Verlopen huishouden’ [Lapsed Household] (ca. 1665), see Chapman et al. 1996, p. 166. 1141. Chapman 1996, p. 166, no. 1, ‘Lapsed household’. 1142. As in ‘The Epiphany Feast’ (1666/7 and 1668), Cat. pp. 206, 207. Also: ‘Merry company on a terrace in front of a tavern’ (1663), cat. 163, ‘The Epiphany Feast’ (1662 and 1661/2), cat. pp. 158 and 159. ‘Tavern interior with dancing couple’ 1664/5 (cat. p. 76), ‘The Birth Feast’ (1664, cat. p.). 74), ‘The amorous old man’ (1665/8, cat. p. 46), ‘The stage of the world’, 1665/7, cat. p. 42; ‘Tavern interior’ (or ‘The broken eggs’, 1664/8), cat. p. 19; But this also occurs in his biblical paintings: for example, the ‘Emmausgangers’ [Disciples on the road to Emmaus] (1665/8), cat. p. 201. 1143. Westermann 1996A confirms this. On p. 61, she points to similar events involving Steen’s objects: ‘He further heightens the visual cacophony by having the bowl break just at that moment, the beer jug topples over just then, and the barrel to empty endlessly’. 1144. Westermann 1996A, p. 61: ‘The attention of the various figures is dispersed, thus reflecting our scattered gaze, both towards this painting and in the disordered everyday life’. 1145. Westermann 1996A, p. 61: ‘Steen left all kinds of objects lying around, each one carefully painted to attract our full attention, and they are all lying askew’. 1146. Todorov 1976, p. 160. 1147. Houbraken 1943, I, p. 295: ‘onze kluchtigen J. Steen’ [our farcical J. Steen] and furthermore ‘als die altyd vrolyk van geest, door zyn vernuft en penceel dingen heeft konnen uitdrukken, zoo in opzicht van de natuurlyke verbeelding, als wyze van schilderen, die verwonderinge verdienen’ [who is always cheerful in spirit, has been able by his ingenuity and brush to express things, under the auspices of natural imagination, a way of painting, which deserves admiration]. Sterkenburg 1981 confirms that ‘kluchtigheid’ [farce] refers to perspicacity and should not be understood in the modern sense as ‘funny’. 1148. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 174. Vollemans 1998, pp. 73-77. 1149. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 173. 1150. Praz 1994; Rybczynski 1986; Kersten 1996; Sutton 1998. 1151. Hollander 1990, p. 136. 1152. Kersten 1996, pp. 150-152: ‘reality manipulated’, ‘extraordinarily truthful impression’, ‘observed event’, ‘as pure as possible in the picture’, ‘shape reality to his will’, ‘made up (...) a composition’ (bp. 31, no.43, 44, 45, 46), ‘has seen in reality’, ‘added imaginatively’, ‘a very natural and realistic impression’, ‘inventive’, ‘totally different character and atmosphere’, ‘applied the visual elements in ever-changing combinations’. 1153. Nichols 1991, p. x-xi points out a similar issue with the documentary film. Usually, a documentary is examined to find out what it has to say about historical reality, under the motto ‘A good documentary stimulates discussion about its subject, not itself’. A position which, according to Nichols ‘neglects to indicate how crucial rhetoric and form are to the realization of this goal’. 1154. Nichols 1991, p. xiii argues something similar in his study of documentary, which is generally regarded as a type of film that, unlike the fiction film, is much more realistic because it is in a more direct connection with reality. But neither do documentaries (or photographs) provide a neutral registration of reality. These images, too, consist, from beginning to end, of material that has been made, treated and arranged in such a way that an argument can be built up about the nature of historical reality. 1155. A process that was later also applied by Han van Meegeren, who painted several ‘De Hooch’s’ (Sutton 1998, p. 81). 1156. Hollander 1990, p. 126; De Kuyper 1984; Nichols 1991; Todorov 1976. 1157. De Jongh 1996A, p. 39: ‘Perhaps it is not entirely surprising that the clichés in seventeenthcentury art, the peasant jokes, the morality and the pseudo-morality, in so far as they are understood and valued at their original value, evoke a certain boredom, if not aversion, 306 1158. 1159. 1160. 1161. 1162. 1163. 1164. 1165. 1166. 1167. 1168. 1169. 1170. 1171. 1172. 1173. 1174. 1175. 1176. 1177. 1178. 1179. 1180. 1181. 1182. 1183. 1184. 1185. among some modern viewers. On e tastes an excess of learning and corny nature and retreats to one’s own good taste. It sometimes seems that iconology, the method by which those morals, jokes, and clichés have been extracted from the fog of history, is held responsible for its teachings and corny nature’. De Mare 1987; Eco 1985B. W. Kloek 1998, p. 38: ‘Steen has depicted many moments of everyday life and apparently did so with great pleasure. The overtone in these paintings is usually humorous. Weddings show dumb brides, a perky groom, foolish parents. Schools show stern or sleeping schoolmasters, naughty or crying boys. (...) In paintings that many see as mirrors of everyday life, lazy peasants indulge in the game of skittles, idlers put up high stakes playing ‘triktrak’ [backgammon] or – as it was then called – ‘het verkeerdbord’ [the wrong board]’. Freud 1972. Through laughter, this difference in psychic energy is then dissipated, according to Freud. The criticism arose following the purchase of ‘Musical Party in a Courtyard’ (1677) by the National Gallery in London and even led to a fierce debate in the House of Commons criticizing the purchase of such a ‘poor picture’ from a ‘bad period’ of the painter (Sutton 1998, p. 87). Sutton 1998, p. 81. For a selection, see Brandt Corstius & Hollema 1981. Facos 1996; Spickernagel 1985 and 1992B. Reed 1996, p. 7. It is true, however, that ‘domesticity’ is at odds with the idea of the avantgarde of modern art: ‘Ultimately, in the eyes of the avant-garde, being undomestic came to serve as a guarnatee of being art’. Schulze 1998; Reed 1996. De Kuyper 1984; De Kuyper & Poppe, ‘Wonen in de film’ [Living in the film] 1985; De Mare 1991A, B; Delpeut & Linssen 1986. They are commonplaces that appear in standard manuals, popularized literature, and professional publications alike. Miedema 1992, p. 343. Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 18. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 6. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 6. For example, people can also be protected from cheating when purchasing household goods. Goeree 1697, pp. 5-6. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 6. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 6-8; Goeree 1697, pp. 5-6. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 6; Biens (De Klerk 1982, p. 49). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 26; idem Goeree 1697, pp. 5-6. Biens (De Klerk, p. 49). In his twelve volumes, dedicated to Louis XIV, Le Grand Atlas Amsterdam 1663 (according to Alpers 1983, p. 159). Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 66). Molhuysen 1913, p. 390. Ferguson 1992; Van den Heuvel 1991. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 53; Zwijnenberg 1999; Nissen 1950. Melion 1991, p. 39, further pp. 43-45, 48. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 343. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 343: ‘Natuur schildert, zoo ‘t schijnt, door vrouwlijke inbeelding kunstich genoeg’ [Nature paints, it seems, through female imagination quite artfully]. Although he also points out that ancestry can play a role. A Greek woman who gave birth 307 1186. 1187. 1188. 1189. 1190. 1191. 1192. 1193. 1194. 1195. 1196. 1197. 1198. 1199. 1200. 1201. 1202. 1203. 1204. 1205. 1206. 1207. 1208. 1209. to a black child and was suspected of adultery, ‘wiert bevonden in ‘t vierde lit van Mooren afkomst te zijn’ [was perceived to be one-fourth of Moorish descent]. Ditto Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 270). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 343. Roodenburg 1988. Please 2000. Huygens describes his experience at the birth of his son Christiaen (who fortunately turned out to be unharmed after his pregnant wife was shocked to see a deformed child) and his mother's experience when she was pregnant with him (Matthey 1973, pp. 425-426; Roman 1977, p. 397). Cats, ADW I, pp. 386-387. Alberti IX.4. (Leoni 1755, pp. 192-193). Stevin 1649, pp. 112-113. Close 1969 confirms this mutual conceptual dependence of Nature and Art in the early modern period. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 344. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 25. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 41. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 25: ‘Zoo dat een Moor, zelf met wit geteykent, zwart schijnt, wegens zijn platten neus, kort hair, bolle kaken, en zekere dommicheit ontrent zijn oogen, welk alles zeer lichtelijk aen een verstandich aenschouwer, dat het een zwart is, uitdrukt’ [So that a Moor, even drawn with white, seems black, because of his flat nose, short hair, round jaw, and certain drowsiness about his eyes, all of which communicates itself very easily to a sensible observer, namely that he is a black]. Dürer 1622, p. 218 also discusses the drawing of a moor: ‘Dewijl dan nu/ ghelijck wy gheseyt hebben/ op verscheydene beelden/ verscheydene natuyren der levendighe lichamen moeten uyt-ghesocht worden/ soo vallen ooc voor tweederley gheslachten van verscheydenheydt; namelijc de onse die Wit/ ende der Mooren die Swart syn: Dese aensichten zijn onder haer onghelijc/ ende der Mooren aensichten zijn om aen te zien zo aenghenaem niet als de onse van weghen de groove nederdruckinghe der neus/ ende der lippen dickheyt’ [Whereas now/ as we have said/ on various images/ various natures of living bodies must be selected/ so there are also two kinds of varieties; namely ours which are white/ and those of the Moors which are black: These faces are unequal among themselves/ and those faces of the Moors are not as pleasant as ours to see because of the coarse flattening of the nose/ and the thickness of the lips]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 41. This is sometimes denied in art-historical literature. Sluijter 1993, p. 56 for instance ‘by nature [Angel] means nothing profound’. Close 1969, p. 482. Close 1969, p. 480: 'Nature is an artist' is an ancient commonplace circulating in early modern thought. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 342-344. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 331-340. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 340-341. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 334. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 340-341. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 349, 289-290. Miedema 1989A, p. 177: ‘The natural aptitude, ingenium, manifests itself primarily through an irrepressible lust, inclination (Lat. inclinatio) to practice a certain activity’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 347-348: ‘Waerop ik dan besluite, dat de geene, die de konst alleenlijk uit een zuivere liefde hebben naegevolgt, haer doelwit voor eerst hebben getroffen te weten, het genot van een vermakelijk genoegen’ [Whereupon I conclude, that 308 1210. 1211. 1212. 1213. 1214. 1215. 1216. 1217. 1218. 1219. 1220. 1221. 1222. 1223. 1224. 1225. 1226. 1227. 1228. 1229. 1230. 1231. 1232. 1233. 1234. 1235. those who have pursued the art only out of a pure love, have hit haer target for first to know, the benefit of a pleasurable satisfaction]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 345-361; Smith 1999, p. 457. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 348, 345-346. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 351. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 195-196. Although this did not always help either, as was shown by the miserable life of Herkules Zegers (p. 312). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 310. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 351: ‘Zeker, de armoê dempt de geesten, en de slaefachtige bekommernissen houden een edel gemoed als in een diepe Kerker gevangen’ [Certainly, poverty dampens the spirits, and slavish preoccupations imprison a noble mind as in a deep Dungeon]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 351. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 310: ‘Hy moet, ‘t is waer, voor eerst zijn goede fortuine in zijn eygen verdiensten, dat is in de deugt en in d’aengenaemheyt van zijn werk zoeken’ [He must, it is true, first seek his good fortune in his own merits, that is in the virtue and pleasantness of his work]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 330. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 330, with reference to the King of France. Idem Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg, 1996, p. 52). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 328. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 215. See for instance Hecht 1989, pp. 42-43. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 170-171. Idem Da Vinci 1996, pp. 52, 58, 46. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 357-358. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 357 still speaks of ‘magic’. ‘De konst is den onkundigen als iets wonderlijx, en geeft het vermoeden van eenige overnatuurlijke kracht’ [Art is like something miraculous to the ignorant, and gives the suspicion of some supernatural power]. This story concerns Filippo Lippi who was enslaved by a Moor. His drawing with charcoal on the wall surprised the Moor so much that he immediately gave him back his freedom. Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 74). Van Hoogstraten 1678. ‘… de schaemte in ‘t groote Oordeel had te kort gedaen, en dat zoo veel onbedekte naekten de gewyde Kapel, daerze stonden, onteerden’ [and that the shame caused by so many uncovered nudes dishonored the consecrated Chapel, where they stood, and disadvantaged the great [Last] Judgment]. Blunt 1978, p. 118 recounts the same issue: ‘Even before it was finished, the master of the ceremonies to Paul III, Biagio da Cesena, protested against it; but the Pope stood by the artist, who took an easy revenge by painting his opponent as Minos in Hell [the judge in the Underworld]’. Moormann & Uitterhoeve 1987, p. 172. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 95, 317. Rooijakkers 1996, p. 145. ‘An angel and a devil compete for a soul at a funeral’ (ca. 1480), from a Flemish book of hours and prayers in use in the diocese of Utrecht. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 292: ‘’t Is niet genoeg, dat een beelt schoon is, maer daer moet een zeekere beweeglijkheyt in zijn, die macht over d’aenschouwer heeft’ [It is not enough that an image is beautiful, but there must be a certain motion in it that has power over the viewer]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 77, 190. Melion 1991, n. 41, p. 268 confirms this for Van Mander; idem Alberti (Spencer 1966. pp. 84-85). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 77, 284. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 226: ‘De bloote Teykening (zegt Plutarchus) heeft nergens nae zulk een bewegende kracht, als de verwen; gemerkt dezelve, door het bedroch van een 309 1236. 1237. 1238. 1239. 1240. 1241. 1242. 1243. 1244. 1245. 1246. 1247. 1248. 1249. 1250. 1251. 1252. 1253. 1254. 1255. 1256. levende gelijkenisse, alleen machtich zijn ons gemoed te ontroeren’ [The naked Drawing (says Plutarch) has nowhere near such a moving power, as the colors; noticed that these, by the deceit of a living likeness, are alone powerful to move our minds]. Emmens 1964, p. 129. He adds: ‘The old notion – that imitation is in itself enjoyable – ultimately stems from Aristotle’. Angel 1642 writes in his commission to Mr. Johan Overbeeck on p. 2: ‘om te versadighen de lust van mijn nieuwsgierighe oogen’ [to satiate the lust of my curious eyes]. Melion 1991, p. 72; Taylor 1995; Brusati 1995. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 251-252). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 290. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 290: ‘Het zweet brak my aen alle kanten uit, zegt Damascius, toen ik de Venus die Herodes Atticus gewijt hadde, gezien had; van weegen den schroomelijk verwarden zinnestrijdt, dien ik in mijn gemoed gewaer wiert. Mijne innichste gedachten wierden door ‘t levendig gevoelen van een onuitspreekelijke vermakelijkheit zoo gekittelt, dat het my byna onmogelijk was ‘t huis te gaen, en schoon ik my derwaerts spoede, zoo wierden mijn oogen nu en dan, door de gedachtenisse van zulk een zeltzaemen gezicht, te rug getrokken. Wie zouw geen lust krijgen, om zoo heerlijken beelt eens te mogen bezien, en zijn oogen in zoo lekkeren konststuk te verzaden?’ [The sweat broke out on me on all sides, says Damascius, when I had seen the Venus consecrated by Herod Atticus; because of the horribly confused battle of senses, which I sensed in my breast. My innermost thoughts were so excited by the vivid sensation of an unspeakable enjoyment, that it was almost impossible for me to go home, and although I hastened to go, my eyes were now and then drawn back by the thought of such a wonderful sight. Who would not get a craving, to be allowed to look upon such a glorious picture once, and to saturate his eyes in such a delicious piece of art?]. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 272). Angel 1642, p. 39. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, pp. 32-34). Sluijter 1993, p. 35 (n. 85), p. 79 (n. 9). See also Miedema 1989A; De Jongh 1995B, pp. 87, 39-40, 43. For criticism see Van de Wetering 1993B. See the evocative description of the muscles by Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 56-57. Van Mander (Miedema 1973A, p. 167). Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 139, 135-138. Melion 1991, p. 8. Angel 1642. Some modern authors have explicitly mentioned this ability to address the eye and the viewer as a characteristic of early modern painting. Barthes (Sontag 1983) points to the glance that is directed from the early modern painting to the viewer; Vollemans 1998 and 2000 speaks of the painting that ‘looks back’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 350. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 279. Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 18, 19, 20, 31. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 19): ‘Geen menselijk onderzoek kan men ware wetenschap noemen als het niet de bewijsvoeringen van de Wiskunde doorloopt’ [No human research can be called true science if it does not go through the proofs of Mathematics], idem p. 48. In accordance with the ancient commonplace ‘Art imitates nature’, Close 1969, p. 469: ‘By this proposition the Ancients meant that human culture and technology imitate the function, processes, and appearance of the natural world’. Da Vinci (Blunt 1978, pp. 37-38, 31). Biens (De Klerk, p. 49): ‘Wij noemen Tekenen de sienlijcke form eenigs dings op ‘t platte uyt te beelden’ [We call Drawing the visible form of depicting any thing on the flat plane]. Blunt 1978, p. 26. 310 1257. 1258. 1259. 1260. 1261. 1262. 1263. 1264. 1265. 1266. 1267. 1268. 1269. 1270. 1271. 1272. 1273. 1274. 1275. 1276. 1277. 1278. 1279. 1280. 1281. 1282. 1283. 1284. 1285. Blunt 1978, p. 26. Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 9. Zwijnenberg 1999, 1996, pp. 11, 36; Blunt 1978. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 349. Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 22. Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 11: the title ‘Paragone’, the first chapter of Da Vinci’s treatise on the art of painting, dates from 1817, when the manuscript was first published as a whole. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 349. This battle question also returns with Alberti, Castiglione, Van Mander and Angel (who refers to Cats). In his ‘Vertelling over Rhodope’ [Tale on Rhodope] Cats compares the poet, the orator, the sculptor, the painter and the weaver with each other because they all work with visual images. Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 7. See also Blunt 1978, p. 27; Alpers 1989A, p. 71; Miedema 1988A. Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 66) too points out that compared to the image, a description is longer, more cumbersome and less accurate. Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 28-29. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 50); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 33. Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 22-23, 1999; Blunt 1978. Blunt 1978, p. 25. Blunt 1978, p. 30. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 56). Elsewhere there is a reference to ‘true principles’ (p. 76), or ‘discourses’ (p. 79). Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 59, 76). He calls them the ‘ten ornaments of nature’. Vollemans 1998, p. 73; Zwijnenberg 1999, pp. 52, 24: ‘According to Leonardo, a painter can only imitate reality if he is aware of the laws of nature’. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 76). Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 84), idem p. 59. On p. 86 he points out how the art of painting ‘can make shiny and transparent bodies’, ‘veiled shapes that show the naked flesh under the veils laid over them’, or she can ‘make small pebbles in variegated colors under the surface of the transparent waters’. Blunt 1978; Zwijnenberg 1999. Zwijnenberg 1999, p. 52; Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 25. Da Vinci: ‘These are comprehended only by the mind, without manual operations, and this is the science of painting which stays in the mind of its contemplators’ (Zwijnenberg 1999, p. 52). Zwijnenberg 1999, p. 52. Zwijnenberg 1999, p. 52. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 76); Blunt 1978, p. 28. Zwijnenberg 1999, pp. 51-52: ‘Alberti emphasized that the painter concerns himself with visible things contrary to the “things” of the mathematician, which are “in the mind alone and divorced entirely from matter”’. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 50-51). Zwijnenberg 1999, pp. 49, 48; idem Alpers 1989, p. 17. Blunt 1978, p. 28. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 347-348: ‘maer zy, zijnde een echt Zuster van de bespiegelende wijsgeerte, onderzoekt, met hulpe der meet- en telkunst, de zichtbare natuur’ [but she, being the one true Sister of reflective philosophy, investigates, with the help of the art of measurement and the art of number, visible nature]. Bialostocki 1984, pp. 421-422: ‘das vollkommene Gemälde’, ‘illusionsschaffende Wirkung’, ‘die alte Spiegelmetapher’, ‘eine überzeugende, also illusionistische Darstellung der Natur’, ‘überzeugend ein Stück Natur zeigen’, ‘das es wie von einem Spiegel abgespiegelt zu werden’; Sluijter 1988, pp. 146: ‘more than just a mirror image of reality’, ‘painting as an image’, ‘symbolic associations that the mirror image can evoke’, 311 1286. 1287. 1288. 1289. 1290. 1291. 1292. 1293. 1294. 1295. 1296. 1297. 1298. 1299. 1300. 1301. 1302. 1303. 1304. ‘imitation’, ‘illusion’, ‘appearance’, ‘reality’, ‘play with different layers of “feint reality”’, ‘thoughts about the mirror and “seeing”’ and on p. 155: ‘the mirror as a symbol’, ‘image of vain appearance and transience’, ‘(self)knowledge and truth’. However, Alpers 1983, pp. 46-48 takes ‘mirroring’ in a literal sense; Blunt 1978, p. 30. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 69-70. Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 24, 62; Blunt 1978, p. 28. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 349. The aim of the early modern art of painting is not the play of ‘realisme’ [realism], ‘schijnrealisme’ [mock-realism] and ‘pseudo-realisme’ [pseudo-realism] (e.g. De Jongh 1971,1995A), nor of ‘zijn, doen schijnen te zijn en niet-zijn’ [being, appearing to be and not being] (Sluijter 1989, 1990, 1991A, 1993). Nor does the painting deceive because it shows something that has not existed ‘in reality’ (Miedema 1989A, p. 114), nor is its purpose the production of appearance and illusion in order to destroy the evidence of the world and show the non-existence of things (Vollemans 1998, p. 69). Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 89-90); Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 309-324; Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 57); Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 346. Miedema 1989A, p. 115: ‘Liberalis here means that only those who were financially independent and who could set free time for reflection could engage in it’; Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 17: ‘The artes liberales can only be exercised by someone with a free mind and by a free human being, that means one who is exempt from physical labor’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 346. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 93; idem Angel 1642, pp. 45, 47-48. Van Hoogstraten 1678 gives another example on p. 44 in which the poor Egypt is untruthfully depicted by the painter as the fertile land of Cana. Alberti (Spencer 1966, pp. 97-98). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 95. This is a generally accepted starting point, see e.g. Kwakkelstein 1998. Blunt 1978, p. 24: ‘The basis of Leonardo’s scientific observation which covered every branch of study of natural phenomena – zoology, anatomy, botany, geology, as well as mechanical and mathematical problems – was a profound belief in the value of experiment and of direct observation’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 348; Alpers 1983, pp. 46-59, 16 and on p. 73: ‘Observation and recording things seen and set forth in words and pictures is to be the basis of the new knowledge’; Miedema 1989A, pp. 115-116. Miedema 1989A, p. 103: ‘Also the complex of ideas of what is roughly described as Neoplatonism, a complex that rose especially in the sixteenth century, saw the world as a visible expression of ideas that had slumbered in the Creator’s bosom until they were realized in creation. Hieroglyphic and emblematic were phenomena that fitted perfectly into this theory of ideas’. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 46-47; Da Vinci (Zwijnenburg 1996, p. 72); Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 63). Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 25. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 63); Goeree 1697 speaks of ‘een zienlijk verdigtsel en een levendig gedenkboek der voorbygegane en der tegenwoordige dingen’ [a visible condensation and a lively memorial book of things past and things present] (p. 1) and calls the art of drawing ‘een geheugboek der voorgaande en tegenwoordige dingen’ [a memory book of the past and present] (p. 3); Van Mander calls ‘memoria’ the mother of muses and the art of drawing the Father of the art of painting (Miedema 1973A, pp. 336 resp. 98-99). Alpers 1983, p. 41 points to the commonplace that the painter’s mind is ‘a place for storing visual images’. 312 1305. 1306. 1307. 1308. 1309. 1310. 1311. 1312. 1313. 1314. 1315. 1316. 1317. 1318. 1319. 1320. 1321. 1322. 1323. 1324. 1325. Yates 1988, pp. 172-173, 213. Yates 1988, p. 213. Yates 1988, p. 173. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 244 announces Melpomene as the ‘derde dochter van Mnemosyne’ [third daughter of Mnemosyne]. He says on this muse: ‘Zy scherpt den liefhebberen het waere vermaeck der konst in; zonder welk vermaek men bezwaerlijk iets leeren kan. Zy vesticht d’aendacht, en prikkelt den lust, om de waere kennissen der beminde kunsten te bekoomen’ [It inculcates in the lovers the true enjoyment of the art, without which it is difficult to learn anything. It draws the attention, and arouses the passion, to obtain the true knowledge of the beloved arts]. Yates 1988, pp. 102-103. For Quintilian, see Yates 1988, p. 13. Yates 1988, pp. 93-116. In legal matters, for example, one has to imagine figures, complete with attributes depicting the aspects one has to remember. Something similar happens with remembering religious matters. Monks remember them through obscene verses. Yates 1988, pp. 20-21, 107-108. Miedema 1989A, pp. 103-104 emphasizes that the art of printing mainly had a levelling effect, with something for everyone. Yates 1988, p. 13. Yates devotes most of her work to studying the texts of these authors, which for that reason alone cannot be summarized. But, moreover, it falls outside the actual scope of the present research. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 346 speaks of ‘hieroglyphs’ and Stevin, in his Wysentijt refers to Hermes Trismegistus, ‘signa hermetis’ and magic and in this sense they are part of the early modern conceptual universe. Van Berkel 1983A, p. 270 confirms that Ramus, as well as William Perkins, turn away from ‘neoplatonistic art of memory’: ‘In their opinion, such symbolic and allegorical representations only distract attention’. Yates 1988, pp. 240-245. Porteman 1977, 1984A and B; Miedema 1989A, p. 56; Wesseling 1995. The first collection Emblematum liber (1531) was by the Italian humanist Andrea Alciato (1492-1550). This consisted of descriptions of images to which he then added a symbolic explanation. The publisher included the images at a later stage. Porteman 1984B, p. 4 typifies Cats’ ‘vision on the emblem, his preference for the simple recognizable matter’: ‘his immeasurable moralizing drive must be understood as a reaction to the light-footed love emblems, in itself a typically Dutch phenomenon’. Jacob Cats, ADW I, pp. 479-480. Wesseling 1995, p. 45, on the other hand, takes a different view: ‘Pictures often have only an illustrative function and at most serve to decorate’. An opinion defended by among others Miedema 1989A and Wesseling 1995, p. 47 (‘an elegant game for the learned elite’). Ripa’s publication has often been used by iconologists, literary and cultural historians as an ‘accessible work tool’, as a ‘Fundgrube’, as an ‘invaluable source for the history of ideas and mentality’ (Van Vaeck 1995, p. 67). De Jongh 1969, 1976; Zijderveld 1949; Prins 1995; Tümpel 1995, p. 115, incidentally, points out that Ripa was only used sporadically by painters. ‘Ripa often gives the correct interpretation to a motif that has been used for a long time, often even one of the possible meanings. However, most of the terms and phrases used in the baroque language do not occur at all in Ripa and his successors’. Alpers 1983, pp. 217-218, 229-233. She points out (p. 172) that there is already a longer tradition in which image and word together were suitable on the flat plane, such as the ‘illumined manuscript and then a printed page. Far from distrusting or deconstructing the 313 1326. 1327. 1328. 1329. 1330. 1331. 1332. 1333. 1334. 1335. 1336. 1337. 1338. 1339. 1340. 1341. 1342. 1343. 1344. 1345. making of pictures, the Dutch in the seventeenth century grant them a privileged place. Images are at the center of human making and constitute an attainment true knowledge’. In an entirely different context, but in the same period, natural philosophers are debating on the ‘impresa’ or ‘impetus’. Galilei speaks of ‘vir impressa’ or ‘impetu’: imprinted power (Dijksterhuis 1985, p. 369). Cats, ADW I, p. 482. Wesseling 1995, p. 45 points out that Alciato’s first emblem bundle was a ‘sales success’: ‘the bundle was published more than 170 times. The publication unleashed a veritable craze: more than 600 authors produced more than 1000 titles in a short period of time’. Think for example of the analytical geometry of René Descartes. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 358-359, 211; Blunt 1978, pp. 103-136. Freedberg 1986, pp. 41, 39-45. Freedberg 1986, pp. 39-41. Freedberg 1986, p. 39; Hauser 1975. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 251-253 also refers to iconoclasts ‘anno 723’ and mentions the last eruption in 842. He also refers to Pope Gregory who believed that images are ‘lekenboeken’ [lay books]. Freedberg 1986, pp. 39, 40-41. Freedberg 1986, pp. 43-44 points out that at the beginning of the sixteenth century there were regular incidents both in Germany and in the Northern Netherlands. Attention is spreading within Germany, Switzerland and Bohemia, as well as in England and Scotland. Around the middle of the century, the turmoil appeared in France. In 1566 the iconoclasm in the Netherlands did its devastating work in a short period of time. In his otherwise interesting article, Freedberg discusses the debate about the image entirely within the religious development. Blunt 1978, p. 104 regards this program as part of the Pope’s attempt to re-establish the status of the Church. He speaks in this even of a papal policy ‘to establish ecclesiastical absolutism’. Freedberg 1986; Kempers 1995, pp. 11-12; Muller & Noël 1985; Pleij 1988. Kempers 1995, p. 12. Muller & Noël1985; Kempers 1995, p. 12. Freedberg 1986, p. 41; Moxey 1977, pp. 163-167. Moxey notes: ‘Despite his stand on ecclesiastical art, Calvin was by no means the proverbial enemy of the arts that is commonly assumed. Calvin viewed the artistic skills of painting and carving as gifts of God which were intended for the sensual delight that they afford mankind’. Calvin considered both histories and scenes of daily life appropriate for this purpose. Freedberg 1986, p. 44; Klein & Zerner 1994, p. 120: ‘Finally, such zeal and care should be exhibited by the bishops with regard to these things that nothing may appear that is disorderly or unbecoming and confusedly arranged, nothing that is profane, nothing disrespectful, since holiness becometh the house of God’. Klein & Zerner 1994, p. 120: ‘By defining the aim of images (to instruct the believers, to incite piety) the text implies certain concrete indications to future artists. All this tended toward an art rather traditional in its forms, without individual initiative, clear as to its subject, respecting classical decorum as well as modern decency, but aiming, however, at a dramatic or pathetic effect’. See e. g. Freedberg 1986; Muller 1985. Freedberg points out, for example, that the Catholic reaction to the whole image issue is lax: one does too little and is also too late. The focus is on the abuse of the image, and not on the essential issue pointed out by the reformers, namely that there is something wrong with the image itself. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 359. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 359. 314 1346. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 94, 359. 1347. Van Run 1994, pp. 354-355: ‘It can be divided into four layers of signification’: ‘namely, historia (usually the Old Testament), allegoria (the related New Testament antitype), tropologia (the explanation in moral terms), and anagoge (the explanation of the future, especially salvation history completion). This system of multiple exegesis has found application in medieval exegesis and theology in varying degrees and in more or less pronounced forms’. 1348. Halbertsma 1985, pp. 26-27 refers to Pinder’s ideas that German sculpture in the Middle Ages was conceived as an expression of the invisible: ‘sie sucht sehr oft gerade den Ausdruck alles an sich Unsichtbaren, den höchtsen Ausdruck gerade des veränderlichen, das hinter der Erscheidung lebt, des Geistigen’. 1349. Revelation, The New Jerusalem (21.11, 21.18, 21.19, 21.20, 21.21). 1350. Halbertsma 1985, p. 28. 1351. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 47). 1352. Freedberg 1986, p. 39; Hauser 1975. 1353. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 358. 1354. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 358: ‘Hoedanigen godlijken eere de Schilderyen tans in ons Christenrijk somtijts worden aengedaen, gaet de maete al vry te buiten’ [How much honor is sometimes given to the Paintings nowadays in our Christian Kingdom, goes beyond all measures]. He also speaks of ‘gepreezen’ [praised], ‘aengebeeden’ [worshipped], ‘met offerranden vereert’ [worshipped with sacrificial rims], ‘godlijke vereeringe’ [divine worship], ‘aenbiddinge der Schilderyen’ [worship of Paintings]. 1355. Freedberg 1986. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 358. 1356. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 358-360. 1357. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 359. 1358. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 357-358. 1359. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 211. 1360. Blunt 1978, pp. 126-127. 1361. Blunt 1978, p. 107. 1362. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 349-350. Blunt 1978, p. 105 confirms that. On p. 133 he writes: ‘The principle on which these new missionaries (Jesuits and the Oratory) worked was that religion must not be made so grim in its appearance and so discouraging in its unattainable ideals that ordinary people would be frightened away altogether from the Church. So they set about making religion more accessible, not by giving it a more rational foundation as the Protestants had done, but by making it appeal to the emotions’. See further Porteman 1998, who underlines the Jesuits’ attention to the image. 1363. Blunt 1978, p. 127. 1364. Blunt 1978, p. 110. 1365. Blunt 1978, pp. 113-114, 116. The ancient pagan culture of the Greeks and Romans was firmly anchored in 16th century Italy, so the Church allowed known mythological scenes. 1366. Blunt 1978, pp. 118-119. 1367. Blunt 1978, p. 119. 1368. Blunt 1978, p. 106. 1369. Blunt 1978, p. 106. 1370. Blunt 1978, pp. 131-132 mentions as an example the fresco cycle in the Paul’s Chapel of S. Maria Maggiore. 1371. Blunt 1978, p. 117. 1372. Blunt 1978, pp. 118-119. 1373. Muller 1985, p. 129; Kempers 1995; Pleij 1988; Sluijter 1991/2. 1374. Pastoor 1997, p. 316. See furthermore Ginzburg 1988B. 1375. Van Gelder 1999. 315 1376. Various texts appear overloaded with sexual paraphernalia and erotic terms. They largely determine the somewhat sultry atmosphere in these articles. A small selection of terms used, taken from Sluijter 1988, 1989, 1991/2, 1991B and C, Sluijter & Spaans 2001; and from De Jongh 1976, 1995B and G, 1996A, among others. However, other authors (such as Hecht 1989 and Blankert 1999) also use similar terms, like: ‘amorous amusement and opulence’, ‘nude depiction’, ‘feminine beauty’, ‘naked beauties’, ‘beautiful seductresses’, ‘depicting (naked) female beauty’, ‘the tension between pleasurable sensual (erotic) pleasure and “dangerous” seduction’, ‘partially undressed, female figure’, ‘the extremely light-hearted clothing’, ‘voluptuous young lady’, ‘seductive smile’, ‘a young man, meanwhile touching her breast’, ‘countless nudes, in many poses and positions’, ‘attractive because of the large number of (female) nudes’, ‘seeing her nakedness’, ‘sensual atmosphere’, ‘countless frivolous episodes’, ‘sensual life, lust and love’, ‘erotic genre scenes’, ‘seductive woman’, ‘sensual craving’, ‘sinful thoughts and deeds’, ‘undressed beauties’, ‘voyeurs’, ‘destructive power of beautiful women’, ‘horny pictures’, ‘very sensual’, ‘erotic titillation’, ‘erotic charge of paintings with nude representations’, ‘obsession with the eyes’, ‘carnal and lustful [love]’, ‘eye seducer’, ‘erotic relationship of the painter to his art’, ‘risky temptations’, ‘seductive erotic power’, ‘a woman naked to the waist’, ‘the rose between her breasts’, ‘pornographic collection’, ‘pronounced obscene poem’, ‘copulate’, ‘voyeuristic identification’, ‘gross feelings of lust’, ‘erotic-voyeuristic representations’, ‘a sleeping (mostly naked or almost naked) young woman’, ‘her barely emerged bosom’, ‘the hand covering the pubic part’, ‘the voyeur kneeling at the nude’, ‘naked underbelly’, ‘extremely erotic charged’, ‘quickly inflamed love’, ‘flat-floored sensuality and lust’, ‘arousal of low lusts’, ‘inflammation of lustfulness’, ‘heavy erotic atmosphere’, ‘rape’, ‘unbridled lusts’, ‘fierce eroticism’, ‘unusually unabashed, widelegged posture’, ‘naked breasts’, the bosom is bare’, ‘tantalizing voyeuristic scene’, ‘violent erotic stimuli’, ‘lust satisfied only by looking’, ‘to be able to caress her breast’, ‘hoping to make love to her’, ‘lustful eyes’, ‘consumed by lust’, ‘strongly erotically charged visual conventions’, ‘an even more frontal view of the pubic parts’, ‘obscene jokes’, ‘male genitals’, ‘coitus’, ‘sexual atmosphere’, ‘copulation’, ‘sexual intercourse’, ‘regulation of sexual drive’, ‘sexual and scatological nature’, ‘scandalous poet’, ‘excited couple’, ‘the impetuous suitor’, ‘openly lusty painting’, ‘lusty gaze’, ‘her nakedness’, ‘scantily clad young women’, ‘gracefully leaning back, almost naked woman’, ‘seductive look of Ariadne’, ‘piquant detail’, and so on and so forth. Furthermore, De Jongh discovers sexual allusions in eggshells, whistles, hares, dogs, shotguns, jugs, cats, cucumbers, stockings, oysters, pans, carrots-with-two onions, piss pots, shoes, barrel-hole-and-standing stick, fish and bird cages that – basically – have an obscene meaning and refer to male and female genitals. 1377. Sluijter 1989, p. 15; idem Sluijter 1991, p. 190. 1378. Sluijter 1991, p. 57; De Jongh 1976, 1995G, p. 48; Pastoor 1997, p. 315; Van Gelder 1999: ‘nudes, by no means always laying there in a lofty position’. 1379. Muller 1985; Hekma & Roodenburg 1988. 1380. Muller 1985, pp. 152, 154. 1381. Emmens 1981- IA, p. 26. 1382. Pastoor 1997, p. 316. 1383. Pastoor 1997, p. 317: ‘Jacob Cats too warns against unchaste history pieces. In Houwelick he urges his readers to avoid these “geyle beelden” [frisky images] because they exert a pernicious influence on the viewer’. In line with this Pastoor also mentions Van Beverwijck. 1384. Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 30). 1385. Cats, ADW I. 1386. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 94-95. 316 1387. Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 30). 1388. Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 31). 1389. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 94. Incidentally, the rules of the decorum do not only apply to the image, as Erasmus would attest: ‘Bij het schilderen van heilige onderwerpen gelden dezelfde regels van welvoeglijkheid als bij het spreken erover’ [When painting sacred subjects, the same rules of propriety also apply as when talking about them]. Muller 1985, p. 130. 1390. De Mare 2000. 1391. Van Hoogstraaten 1678 refers (pp. 94-95) to Seneca for support. He confirms the point of view when he tells how women carry out their sacrificial ceremonies out of sight of men and cover up the paintings of male animals. 1392. Moorman & Uitterhoeve 1987, pp. 65-66. 1393. Moorman & Uitterhoeve 1987. 1394. Moorman & Uitterhoeve 1987, pp. 99-101 (Ganymedes); p. 45 (Apollo); pp. 71-72 (Zeus and Daphne). 1395. Moorman & Uitterhoeve 1987, p. 197 point out that this is a later shift, with the maternal murder disappearing somewhat to the rear. 1396. Alberti (Spencer 1966, p. 76). 1397. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 94. 1398. Blunt 1978, p. 126. 1399. Aretino (Blunt 1978, p. 124). 1400. Van Hoogstraten 1678, pp. 94-95. 1401. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 94: ‘Kalvijn zegt, dat de Martelaeren niet betaemelijk van weezen geschildert worden: En datmen in de Bordeelen en Hoerhuizen schaemtelijker en matiglijker versierde vrouwen, dan maegdebeelden in de Kerken vint. Daerom laetse toch, vervolgt hy, haere beelden een weynig schaemtelijker maecken’ [Calvin says that the Martyrs are not painted in a respectable way: And that in the brothels and whorehouses one finds more shamefully and moderately decorated women, than virgin statues in the churches. Therefore let them yet, he continues, make the images of virgins a little more shameful]. 1402. Blunt 1978, p. 122. See also Ginzburg 1988B, pp. 180-182, although he emphasizes in the usual way the extent to which coded stories can be decoded as erotic fantasies and the question of the size of the clientele that would be interested in such images. For example, in response to Titian’s letter to Philip II, Ginzburg concludes: ‘As one can see, the aesthetic assessment in terms of faithful reproduction passes imperceptibly into the downright explicit appreciation of the painting's ability to erotically excite ...’. Ginzburg ignores here the order of nature that underlies both statements. In doing so, he erroneously refers to the comments on naturalness as being an aesthetic matter and then emphasizes the erotic charge from which the modern obsession with this phenomenon detached from nature is again evident. 1403. Pastoor 1997, p. 317 suspects a double moral in the case of Van Beverwijck, who according to the estate description ‘owned at least one scene for which Cats would have firmly closed his eyes’ – namely a ‘naughty painting of Suzanna’s young and sumptuous nude’, a copy after Rubens. Pastoor noted that ‘even in the seventeenth century life was often stronger than doctrine. (...) Apparently Van Beverwijck himself was able to cope with the effect of nudes and was able to control his ‘losse sinnen’ [loose lusts] better than the young suitors to whom he addressed his wise words in his Schat der Gesontheyt [Treasure of Health]. 1404. Muller 1985, p. 131. 1405. Taken from Institutio Matrimonii Christiani (1526), and specifically in the section dealing with the upbringing of the young girl (Muller 1985, p. 129). 317 1406. Muller 1985, p. 131; Hollander 1990. For an interesting analogy with entirely different consequences for the image, see Benjamin 1985. 1407. Miedema 1992, p. 343. 1408. Brenninckmeyer-de Rooij 1984, p. 62. A historiography that in turn has taken on a life of its own. See Moran 1994; Johnson 2000. Miedema criticized this type of historiography (1991B; 1992, p. 339). Miedema 1974, p. 224: ‘since “need for” and “tendency to” are particularly difficult to assess in paintings’. 1409. De Vries 1998, p. 17. For a criticism Miedema 1995. 1410. Emmens 1964, pp. 28-62 elaborated on this issue by making a distinction between the ‘pictor doctus’ (the learned painter) and the ‘pictor vulgaris’ (the craftsman) in analogy with rhetoric. His linking to rhetoric, mathematics (mespecially perspective) to what he called the Tuscan-Roman tradition that eventually culminated in the ‘avant-garde’ (on De Lairesse, p. 81) and ‘innovative’ (p. 141) French idealized classicist art theory led him to indicate the thought about art in the Netherlands in negative terms: he speaks of the ‘preclassicist period’, which ‘does not yet have a coherent system of rules, like the classicist one’ (p. 170), using terms such as ‘outdated’ (p. 141), ‘the already classicist oriented Van Hoogstraten’ (p. 100), Van Mander showing ‘already classicist oriented traits’ (p. 54), or Junius being the first to introduce classicist art theory in the Netherlands (p. 46). His designation of the ‘Tuscan-Roman negative’ (pp. 38-40) for the Netherlands rather perpetuates the opposition between Italy/France (South) and the Netherlands (North), this while in his dissertation and his many articles he provides a lot of material that lends itself to an entirely different and more elegant genealogy that does do justice to the European ‘evolution of the concept of art’ (as he himself calls it several times, e.g. p. 129). See also Emmens 1981-IG. 1411. As Brenninckmeyer-de Rooij wrote in 1984 (p. 506, n. 63): ‘Until now, no one has had the courage to tackle the subject of “tradition and innovation in Dutch seventeenth-century art theoretical writings”’. 1412. Miedema 1991A, p. 412. 1413. Depending on the approach one places the entrance of Italian humanist thinking early in the seventeenth century or late. See Emmens 1964, Haak 1984, Melion 1991, Miedema 1989A. 1414. Emmens 1981-IA, p. 9. 1415. This could be deduced from the terms one uses: on the one hand, ‘admirable intellectual tour de force’, ‘not very practical’, ‘theoretical tracts’, ‘theoretical programme’, ‘scholarly achievement’, ‘humanistic ideas’, ‘intellectual upper class’, ‘the humanistic culture of reading and writing’, ‘reflection’, ‘educated’, ‘practitioner of the humanities’; and on the other hand ‘production process’, ‘the purely practical profession’, ‘a not particularly erudite urban population’, ‘less developed public’, ‘vulgar’, ‘cheap material’, ‘free market’. 1416. Alberti, for example, is not mentioned by Brenninckmeyer-de Rooij 1984; she considers Vasari to be the founder of the artist’s monograph. 1417. In fact, Miedema’s viewpoint (1989A, p. 25) boils down to this. The Greek ‘techne’ and the Latin ‘ars’ refer to ‘skill: a trade, something one can do; something one can learn and practice’. The Antique triad comes down to arts that 1) lead to a product, 2) to an activity or 3) to contemplation (and pure knowledge). The latter (the ‘artes liberales’) equates Miedema with ‘theory’, this in distinction to the producing trades which he understands as ‘practice’. For similar indications see for example Field 1993, p. 93, who speaks of ‘practical tradition’ versus ‘learned tradition’. For a different view see Emmens 1981-IIA. 1418. Thus the title of Kemp 1990 on Perspective. 1419. Emmens 1981-IB, p. 66. 1420. Emmens 1964, Emmens 1981-B, p. 66. 1421. Miedema 1989A, pp. 123-124 considers only (French) classicist theory as ‘theory’, i.e. a coherent, systematic formation of theory in relation to the practice of painting. As one of 318 1422. 1423. 1424. 1425. the few, therefore, he argues that there is no systematic knowledge beforehand and therefore no Italian art theory. Until then, literary rhetorical treatises, sometimes intellectual, sometimes just for pleasure, but in any case, separate from practice: ‘Alberti’s treatises are thus admirable intellectual tours de force, which are not very practical, but have given rise to a long series of theoretical treatises on the visual arts. (...) The later arttheoretical treatises were not tours de force, but remained literary essays, intended to be enjoyed as literature. Whether they were useful, in the sense that they celebrated a practical conceptual apparatus for art connoisseurs and art lovers, is hard to say. Especially the sixteenth-century tracts were very abstract, and they did not get to the works of art’. Miedema 1995, p. 75: ‘Following in the footsteps of the Antique authors, the humanists from the 15th to the 17th century made little effort to make a theory of painting. Leon Battista Alberti (1404-1472) elaborated on the fact that treatises on some technical subjects, such as perspective, shading and proportions, must have existed in antiquity. He allowed himself to be challenged to imitation and emulation, and wrote a treatise De pictura, in the way that antiques would have done. The result has, I believe, had little connection with the practice of professional painters and in the later treatises on painting Alberti’s De pictura can only be found in part’. De Vries 1998, p. 12: ‘De Lairesse’s real opponent was not Van Mander, however, but the legion of painters who seemed to have no theory at all. Karel van Mander stimulated the painters who studied his treatise to create beauty, not to depict reality without improving it and to imitate classical sculpture, just as Gerard de Lairesse would advocate. The greatest differences between the two writers are in tone, precision, elaboration and severity’. Miedema (1974) criticizes Boschloo, p. 223 as follows: ‘In other words, to explain the greater realism in Carracci’s series as being due to this fascination with ordinary people, “the insignificant and inconspicuous representation of humanity” (pp. 41-42) is unfounded from the point of view of art history. It seems to me to be a conclusion arrived at from a 20th-century viewpoint, and it is a conclusion which is one of the recurring motifs in Boschloo’s book’. Prior to the local guild system, there is another master-apprenticeship-system. In the field of architecture and sculpture, these are known as the ‘bouwhut’ [building hut] (lodge), in which craftsmen and masters are temporarily attached to a large building project (as is the case, for example, with the construction of a cathedral). Those in possession of some form of craft knowledge are internationally oriented and mobile. Halbertsma 1985, p. 27; Meischke 1988; Van Oostrom 1994; Panofsky 1971. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 4: ‘Maer het zal mogelijk veele vremt dunken, dat ik dit Werk onder den naem van de negen Muzen uitgeef: Ten eersten, dewijl dezen Tijtel, wel eer aen de Historien van den ouden Herodotus gegeven, de geloofwaerdicheit der zelve by eenige geweldich heeft verdacht gemaeckt: zoo datze gemeint hebben, dat hy, door de vryheid der Muzen, zommige dingen om den geest te vermaken, een weinich te ruim en te weelich uitgebreyt heeft; maer dit en heeft my niet kunnen af keeren, dewijl ik geen Historie, maer een vrye konst ontleede, daer de driftige aenporringen dikwils meerder, dan de simpele en waerachtige regels, gelden. Ten anderen zal iemant voorgeven, datmen de Muzen wel voor Meesteressen der Poëzie, maer voor geen Schilderessen plach te houden. Hier op antwoorde ik: Dat men van outs met den naem van de Muzen allerleye wijsheden, geleertheden, en schranderheden, te kennen gaf, en dat, behalve de Zusterschap tusschen de Schilderkonst en Poëzie (uit Horatius boven aengeroert) de ampten dezer Godinnen tot de byzondere leden der Schilderkonst zoo eygen zijn, als ofze tot geen anderen eynde waren ingewijt’ [But it may seem strange to many, that I am publishing this work under the name of the nine Muses: First, because this title, previously given to the Histories of the old Herodotus, some have particularly suspected his credibility: so that they have thought that he, by the freedom of the Muses, has extended some things to the enjoyment of the mind, a 319 1426. 1427. 1428. 1429. 1430. 1431. 1432. 1433. 1434. 1435. little too widely and too luxuriously; but this did not turn me away, because I am not dissecting a History, but a free art, where the fierce exhortations are often more valid than the simple and true rules. On the other hand, someone will say that the Muses are usually considered Mistresses of Poetry, but not Mistresses of Painting. To this I replied: That from ancient times by the name of the Muses all kinds of wisdom, learning, and cleverness, were signified, and that, besides the Sisterhood between the arts of Painting and of Poetry (from Horace touched upon above) the duties of these Goddesses towards the special members of the art of Painting are as appropriated, as if they had been consecrated to no other purpose]. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996, pp. 14-16 point out that Byzantine as well as Arab scholars have preserved this classical conception of the balance between theory and practice and have reintroduced it into European (especially in the Italian) culture. Blunt 1978, p. 83 mentions three writings by Pino (1548), Biondo (1549) and Dolce (1557): ‘Much of what they say is simply the traditional matter of earlier Renaissance treatises. Pino, Dolce, and Biondo all three draw extensively on Alberti, Biondo even copying several chapters from him almost word for word, and the commonplaces from Pliny and other ancient writers fill a large part in each of the treatises’. In the case of Vasari, the relationship between the eye (which he, incidentally, highly values because it stores knowledge from nature in its memory) and reason shows a different balance according to Blunt 1978, pp. 90-91: ‘The artist is now no longer to choose the reasonable mean, the general and the typical; he is to choose according to his judgement. And with Vasari judgement is not, as with Alberti, a rational faculty; it is rather instinct, an irrational gift, allied to what we call taste, and residing not so much in the mind as in the eye’. Alpers 1960, p. 200: ‘Leonardo, rather than emphasizing what emotion is expressed, concentrates on the action which is expressive. He describes with great detail the way things look in a storm, flood, deluge, or whatever scene he is treating. For him the details of reality are expressive simply because they are properly and fully represented, while Vasari reverses the order of precedence and makes representational reality the taking-off point for the analysis of emotions. Vasari would say that Leonardo lived in a time which was still grappling with the problems and difficulties of representation. But although Vasari believes in the technical progress of art, he, unlike the ancient authors, did not eliminate details of technique from his ekphrasis precisely because he accepts Alberti’s clear equation of representation and narration’. Alpers 1960, pp. 212-213: ‘Vasari established both the notion of art as a series of problems and the idea that progress could be made, but it is a far cry from Vasari’s artists contributing to Art itself to a modern artist’s progressing in his own art. In so far as Vasari sees art as the development of style, it is necessarily anti-individualistic. (...) The individual has no power to determine the character of the predetermined and continuous development of style. If one person does not conquer a certain difficulty, another will’. Goldstein 1989, p. 186; Miedema 1989A. By the way, Neoplatonism is a mixture of Platonic and Aristotelian ideas, and in this sense the Florentine Academy is not a place where pure Platonic ideas were taught, according to Kristeller 1961. Emmens, 1981-IB, p. 84. Furthermore Boschloo 1989, Yates 1988. Blunt 1978, p. 88: ‘For Vasari, as for Alberti, the foundation of any theory of painting is that this art consists in the imitation of nature. One of his highest forms of praise for a painting is to say that the figures are so natural that they seem alive’. Alpers 1976, p. 21 points out that by emphasizing representation as the subject of the art of painting, the representation of an object from reality creates a link between the art of painting and historical reality, which was impossible in nineteenth-century realism, for example. Alpers 1976; Marin 1986. 320 1436. 1437. 1438. 1439. 1440. 1441. 1442. 1443. 1444. 1445. 1446. 1447. 1448. 1449. 1450. 1451. 1452. 1453. 1454. 1455. 1456. 1457. 1458. 1459. 1460. 1461. 1462. 1463. 1464. Alpers 1976, p. 26. This is evident in Alberti, Vasari, but also in Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten. Grafton & Siraisi 1999, p. 11. Blunt 1978, pp. 83-84 among others by Dolce. ‘To him [Dolce] Raphael was the perfect example of a balanced Humanist, skillful in all branches of his art, and not devoting himself to the pursuit of one quality only as Michelangelo concentrated, according to him, on the drawing of the nude’. See also Blunt 1978, pp. 112-113. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 335: ‘Maer deeze wijze van schilderen wil onze locht niet lijden, schoonze by den grooten Michel Angelo voor Meesterswerk, tegen ‘t schilderen in olyverwe, dat hy vrouwen werk noemde, geacht wiert’ [But this mode of painting cannot endure our air, although it was highly regarded by the great Michel Angelo as a Masterpiece, in contrast to painting in oils, which he called women’s work]. Castiglione 1991, pp. 82-83; Panofsky 1954; De Holanda 1993. See for this ‘paragone’ on fresco and oil paint, Emmens 1981-IJ, p. 196-203. Michelangelo’s sayings as recorded by the Portuguese painter Francesco de Holanda 1993, pp. 24-25. Alpers 1960. Melion 1991, p. 130. Emmens 1981-IIC, p. 35 [with S.H. Levie]. Van Hoogstraten 1678, p. 36: ‘Wy willen ons tot geen rechter over ‘t geschil tusschen deze twee lichten opwerpen; want haere weegen en inzichten zijn zeer verscheyden geweest’ [We do not wish to make ourselves a judge of the dispute between these two lights; for their ways and understandings have been very different]. Warburg 1979A; Gombrich 1986, p. 344. Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 78). Da Vinci (Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 76). Blunt 1978, pp. 19, 36, 21-22. Alpers 1989 already pointed out that Dutch painting certainly did not depict ‘everything’, but also made specific selections. There are also now many nuanced studies on Italian art. De Vries 1998, pp. 98-132 on the ‘Schilderboek’ [Painting Book] by De Lairesse. Panofsky 1968. De Vries 1998, p. 78. Emmens 1981-IIC, p. 47 [with S.H.Levie]; Miedema 1989A, pp. 125, 145, 206. De Vries 1998, p. 99. De Vries 1998, p. 99. Emmens 1964, p. 121. De Vries 1998, p. 89; Panofsky 1968. Halbertsma 1993, p. 22. Goldstein 1989, p. 190. Apart from a single treatise on architecture (by De L’Orme) and a translation by Vitruvius and Alberti, little or nothing had been published. In 1649 Abraham Bosse published the first treatise in French. Reijnders 1984; Burke 1991. Reijnders 1984. Goldstein 1989, p. 192. Miedema 1969, p. 251: ‘classicism’ is ‘the term commonly used in France to denote the theoretical direction expressed at the time in the French Académie, where a strong need for explicit statements on the formal aspects of the visual arts necessitated the emergence of a precisely formulated theory’. Burke 1991. Emmens 1964, p. 57. Emmens 1981-IF, p. 125 points out how Rembrandt began to function as an ‘outdated’ counterpart to this ‘academic thinking’: ‘The academics thought that a painter should behave aristocratically, they were eclectic and idealistic, considered the design drawing of the painting to be primary and regarded color as a vulgar side effect. 321 1465. 1466. 1467. 1468. 1469. 1470. 1471. 1472. 1473. That’s why Rembrandt had to deal with the lower classes, he was “naturalistic” and a slavish imitator of nature, could not draw in the academic sense of the word, and he went so far as to indulge in splotches of paint that his portraits could be picked up by the nose. (...) Because the chaste academics prefer the “ideal” male body as a model, Rembrandt’s disciples are violating the female nude models in their master’s studio. (...) Because the aristocratic academic did not earn money as a simple craftsman, but kept himself alive by accepting gifts from his preferably royal friends, Rembrandt became a textbook example of vulgar stinginess’. Emmens 1964, pp. 32-33, 95. Emmens 1981-II, pp. 198-203 and Alpers 1976 made it clear that there is regional differentiation, particularly with regard to the place that is given to the drawing and the color. Mutual rivalry (within Italy, between Tuscany/Rome, Venice and Sicily, and the North, especially Flanders) plays an important role in this, because of the high level of exchange between these regions. Junius 1991, p. 36: : ‘It is then required here that we should not onely bend our naturall desire of Imitation towardes the best things, but that we should likewise study to understand wherein the excellency of the same things doth consist: the which having diligently performed, we shall by the same meanes perceive how necessary it is that we should duly examine our owne abilitie and strength, before we undertake the Imitation of such workes as doe excell in all kinde of rare and curious perfections’. Van Hoogstraten was well aware of this work, according to Emmens 1981-IIB, p. 28, referring to Panofsky 1968, p. 117. Emmens 1964, p. 85. Emmens 1981-IIA, p. 20 points to the shift himself, but dates it back to early representatives of classicism. ‘This identification of theory with learning and practice with exercise seems to me to be characteristic of classicism. After all, the distinction between the classicists and the preceding theories is not only a shift of emphasis from natural aptitude to doctrinal art – a shift that may go hand in hand with the increasing influence of rhetoric on art theory, to the detriment of the influence of poetics – but above all the increasing theorization of the concept of art. That before was conceived much more as an in practice, learnable craft’. Emmens 1964, p. 95: ‘The older conception of art places, according to the classicists, the emphasis on natural talent and practical exercise and neglects the concept of art, which they themselves consider essential and which has become highly theoretical, with all the resulting anatomical, perspectival and generally – somewhat anachronistic – aesthetic aspects. In other words, the older concept of art, according to the classicists, is, in the most literal sense of the word, “unregulated”, and therefore subject to such factors as “chance” and “the appearance of the eye”. This [older concept of art] neglects the antique images as an absolute standard of beauty, yea worse: it holds the view that, what is ugly in life, once depicted becomes beautiful, or at least “picturesque”, while the classicists hold that only what is beautiful in life is also beautiful and picturesque in its depiction’. Brenninckmeyer-de Rooij 1984, p. 63. Miedema 1994B, p. 153; Miedema 1993, p. 157. De Veen 1996, pp. 333-337; Melion 1991, p. 261, n. 2: ‘Vasari published the 1550 and 1568 edition of the Vite under the auspices of the Accademia Fiorentina, incorporated by Duke Cosimo in 1542 with the aim of extending the jurisdiction of Tuscan as the vernacular component of the studia humanitatis.’ See also Emmens 1981-IIL. Halbertsma 1993, p. 27: ‘In the course of the eighteenth century these criteria changed, and the requirement of artistry won out over all others. This requirement, which had previously been linked to craftsmanship, was reformulated, particularly in the nineteenth century, in terms of originality and experimentation. The work of art is given the function of the optimal vehicle of artistry’. Vollemans 1998, p. 95; Miedema 1989A, p. 125. 322 1474. Emmens 1964 and 1981-IIE, p. 67: ‘It is only when, around 1800, the work of art is regarded as the expression of the personality that produced it, that the possibility of producing “curses” and “cries” emerges (...) and that is also when the first outspoken protests emerge against the aristocratic academies, which are now considered to be an intolerable restriction on the expression of the free personality’. 1475. Miedema 1989A, p. 125; Van der Woud 1997, pp. 14-15. 1476. Halbertsma 1993, p. 23. 1477. Emmens 1981-IIL, p. 160. 1478. Alpers 1976, pp. 37-38. 1479. Halbertsma 1993, p. 29; Emmens 1981-IIC [with S.H. Levie], p. 48. 1480. Melion 1991, p. xix. 323 

Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Epilogue – Closer to Home The Value of Cultural-Historical Sensibility ‘Wanneer men tegenover u ons vak als luxe-vak betitelt, is het aan u te toonen, dat een samenleving moeilijk gevaarlijker kan dolen, dan wanneer zij den weg tot haar eigen kunstwerken heeft verloren en dat het behoeden dier werken en het vrijhouden van dat pad een culturele arbeid is van het grootste belang’, H. van de Waal, Traditie en Bezieling 1946, p. 33. [When people refer to our profession as a fancy field of study, it is up to you to show that a society can hardly wander more dangerously than when it has lost the way to its own works of art and that the preservation of those works and the clearing of that path is a cultural work of the utmost importance, H. van de Waal, Tradition and Inspiration, 1946, p. 33]. ‘Het lijkt mij dat hier problemen liggen die (…) pas genuanceerd en inderdaad historisch verantwoord kunnen worden gesteld en beantwoord, wanneer men de historische ontwikkeling van onze gedachten over beeldende kunst in het onderzoek betrekt …’, Jan A. Emmens, ‘De kinderen van Homerus (1966)’, 1981-IIG, p. 87. [It seems to me that there are problems here which (...) can only be posed and answered in a nuanced and indeed historically sound way, when one includes in the research the historical development of our thoughts on visual art ...’, Jan A. Emmens, ‘The Children of Homer (1966)’, 1981-IIG, p. 87]. The classic story has no loose ends. All the narrative lines established at the beginning must also be brought to a successful conclusion themselves after the climax. The way in which the closure takes place will be different in the detective than in the fairy tale and depends on the conventions of the genre. In a solid research it will be no different. There, too, problems are raised at the start and lines are drawn that will guide the actual research story (Chapter 1, Introduction and Methodology). In my case, it involved a cultural-historical narration in which three domains of early modern Holland were presented: the art of building (on Simon Stevin, Chapter 2), the art of poetry (on Jacob Cats, Chapter 3), and the art of painting (on Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten, Chapter 4). The historical material had to do its own work there. In this way the fortunes of the early modern arts each unfolded in its own subplot. But the whole was directed – however invisibly, perhaps – by the choices, the possibilities and the limitations announced at the beginning of this comparative study. In the fifth chapter, I have unraveled the various layers of this cultural1 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 historical research. In Part I, the material was related to a broad cultural-historical framework. In early modern Europe, natural philosophy, visual knowledge, and the burgher appeared to be intertwined in a larger network. Next, in Part II, I posed the question of the status of cultural-historical research. By placing Dutch art and architectural history in a European perspective in a few steps, I was able to solve a problem that has long dominated me (and this study). Behind the objectivity and rationality that Dutch art and architectural history pretended to have from the 1970s onward, there appeared to be a Neo-Platonism that was subsequently found in the past. This imaginary past served as a mirror to legitimize one’s scientific status in the present (5.2.4. and 5.2.2.). Instead of such a straightforward, ‘operative’ approach to history, I was able – supported by art historians such as Aby Warburg (5.2.1.), Henri van de Waal, and Jan Emmens (5.2.3.) – to elaborate a more ramified genealogy. What I wanted to disentangle were the paths of thought and cultural products in the realm of the arts. Their fortunes often turned out to be out of sync and to have idiosyncrasies of their own. But there were also moments when they became intertwined and found a new arrangement together. Often, they were only temporary entanglements accompanied by curious intermediate products that were short-lived. Only through genealogical analysis was it possible to name these changing relationships and to show how times and speeds were intermingled in the early modern arts. Such an understanding of the historical relief of our culture is at odds with everyday experience. Cultural products are simply perceived within a mental regime of which the contemporary beholder is usually not or barely aware. Our conception of Art as a ‘separate’ phenomenon is an example thereof. However, this view is not universal, but is based on a convention that was only installed in Europe during the eighteenth century by the introduction of aesthetics as branch of philosophy and is therefore – cultural- historically speaking – of fairly recent date. Our periodization of the Fine Arts is equally historically dated and has its roots in the nineteenth century discipline of ‘art history’. Our conception of the central role of the spectator in understanding a work of art is even more recent. Thus, searching for aesthetic opinions of art lovers or audiences in earlier periods is an anachronistic activity in many respects. But in reality, our ‘modern’ opinions do not matter so much when it comes to a cultural-historical study of the arts, which until modern times were conceived as knowledge systems. At best, these opinions are interesting as objects of cultural- 2 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 historical research. I would therefore like to conclude with three points that I consider crucial for the future of a cultural-historical study of the arts. Contrary to what is often claimed, neither a ‘linguistic turn’ nor a ‘visual turn’ in scientific thinking has occurred. The massive attention that manifested itself to language from the 1960s and to the visual from the 1980s onwards, itself emerged from a ‘social turn’. ‘The Rise of the Social’ – which first presented itself toward the middle of the 18th century1 – became a natural way for scientists of various disciplines to view the present, the future, and the past.2 In the meantime, this ‘social gaze’ has been completely internalized. Approaching artifacts from the perspective of people, groups or individuals has become dominant, requiring no explication, and attributing to itself a self-evident interpretive power. ‘Everywhere in historiography we see the return of the “I” and the exaltation of the individual as the agent of history. More and more often our perception of processes, structures and conjunctures is organized around emblematic or exemplary figures from history,’ is how historian Willem Frijhoff characterizes this tendency in historiography.3 A similar turn has taken place in art history. While the interest in the social embedding of the arts in the 1950s was political in nature and, for that reason, scarcely had a foothold in existing art history, the social later became dominant. This was partly because, as art historian David Summers argued in 1981, the ‘natural’ explanatory ground (the painting as imitation of the reality outside) had become irrelevant. ‘When painting was concerned with illusion, or with the composition of illusion, its means were treated as if they were transparent, even if they were fairly “painterly”. When the means were not transparent, when it began to feel that paintings were two-dimensional surfaces with colored marks placed upon them, the criticism of painting turned away from visible nature as an absolute to other equally absolute alternatives. When objective nature began to vanish behind the examination of knowledge, the criticism of painting veered toward absolutes in the constituing subject. “Feeling” is perhaps the simplest of these, but various psychological theories have also provided the kind of foundation for painting once provided by nature. Even such ideas as the literal, the minimal, and the conceptual, although opposed to the “natural” in a traditional sense, retain that concern with the absolute that nature once provided’.4 Instead of analyzing the image the moment its explanatory basis disappears, instead of questioning the status of ‘art’ (especially painting) in Western culture, we drifted into a social science questioning that examines everything except the image itself. 3 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 The result is that works of art, artifacts, are no longer an object of research in their own right. Nowadays, communication is the central term. Everything revolves around the exchange of signs (language, word, image, visual language) as the essence of life with the shaping of the individual as its goal. Anyone who regards culture primarily as a product of the social interaction between people and sees words or images merely as vehicles of messages or regards artifacts as a way of shaping our real Self, may find it offensive that parts of culture – paintings, films, drawings, documentaries, architecure, literature – obey their own laws, rules, genre conventions and have their own temporality. Those who take social interaction as their yardstick may find it hard to imagine that these cultural artifacts have a lifespan independent of and rising above the period given to the mortal individual. In any case, such a history of the longue durée is at odds with the self-conceit of the modern subject, who does not want to submit to a higher power outside him/herself. No wonder that many scholars dismiss such a historical approach to culture with terms such as deprivation of freedom, encroachment of individual space, and the enslavement of free will.5 Based on the scientific publications that I have seen in the meantime; I can only conclude that the ‘social turn’ has led to a flattening in the production of knowledge related to the arts. The new questions posed from the social perspective in the last thirty years have significantly turned back the academic clock in theoretical terms. Human communication is now the center around which revolve not only the social questions of the past and present, but also all kind of cultural questions. That ‘consciousness’ is not the core of existence (Freud), that ideas are not the motor of history (Marx), that man is the product of natural selection (Darwin), that ‘history’ has no purpose (Althusser) and that the earth is not the center of the universe (Copernicus): 6 all these revolutionary insights are placed outside the current epistemological horizon by the primacy of communication and declared to be ‘unthinkable’ phenomena. ‘To defend social context over ahistorical structures is to choose empiricism over imagination,’ is a conclusion by Wendy Doniger that I agree with.7 This flattening certainly applies to recent trends in the various art histories. Johan Huizinga’s warning – uttered in 1926 – is still valid in this sense. ‘The major enemy of thinking in the humanities is anthropomorphism. It is the hereditary enemy, which it brings from life itself. All human language speaks anthropomorphically, expresses in images borrowed from human actions, colors all that is abstract with the likeness of the sensuous. But it is precisely the task of 4 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 the humanities to be aware of the figurative nature of their language and to ensure that metaphor does not give way to phantasmagoria’.8 The success of ‘the social’ cannot be separated from two other phenomena of the last thirty years: the flowering of postmodern thought and the rise of interdisciplinarity. In 1964, Emmens was still arguing for cross-border scholarly exchange.9 But this has now turned into massive interdisciplinary mobility. People are entering many fields of study at the same time on a whim. Some scholars are not embarrassed to say that a new field of research like Visual Culture is based on the knowledge of 34 disciplines (bp.afterword.3).10 However, many cross boundaries unprepared, relying only on what one has heard from others or hopes to find. One travels without the proper equipment. One does not know the language, nor the customs, and so one violates (without realizing it, of course) the most basic rules of the academic field in question. One does not think carefully and one does not have to, because the use of ‘concepts’ has first and foremost a social function, namely to provide recognition and status to the traveler who can therefore move more easily in a group of like-minded (postmodern) theorists. In this sense the social network is indeed the binding factor because postmodern authors are primarily interested in the unbridled exchange of signs. It is not the production of knowledge that is their goal, let alone the analysis of signifying processes, but the ‘deconstruction’ of existing patterns. The postmodern crisis, which now seems to be somewhat on the wane, was always understood as an opening to new worlds. The postmodern authors saw themselves as avant-gardists who set the tone. According to Paul-Laurant Assoun, this was entirely unjustified. ‘Postmodernism is a philosophical vertigo. It is itself a vertigo, but one is also fascinated by the vertigo. And I mean vertigo of reason. As I have already stated, I call this in a sense hysterical, that is, stuck in the temptation of its own crisis’.11 By analogy with the chaos that caused the wordimage complexes of the early modern era to fall into disarray, postmodern thinking can just as rightly be regarded as a rearrangement of conceptual systems without any indication of progress. This ‘sign storm’ was foreseen by Roland Barthes as early as 1970, which he saw not as progress but as the inevitable consequence of an analysis of existing sign systems taken to its extreme.12 The postmodern crisis is part of this turbulent cultural process that we are still in the middle of. It is an unstable, but – partly due to the global overload of information and impressions, both through migration of images, words and bodies – inescapable transitional phase in which the old conceptual systems are transforming themselves. Carried for decades by inspired intellectuals who wanted to change the world, the ongoing mental dissection of existing thought and 5 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 the fascination with nihilism that accompanied it will eventually bring about a new conceptual equilibrium in which old fragments are rearranged and new connections appear. In this process, postmodern intellectuals do not play the exalted role they usually ascribe to themselves. On the contrary, these ‘academics’ have emerged from the chaos and are carrying it forward by acting like worms that continue to uproot the old conceptual systems. In view of all these phenomena, in view of the fact that in everyday reality many historical times are intermingled, and in view of the great weight that visual culture has today, it is important and urgent to have clear directional guidelines when studying culture (especially the arts). Search engines are needed – again by analogy with the early modern era – to bring order to the conceptual mush of visual and discursive phenomena (bp.afterword.1). At this moment, a clear map is missing. Everyone has an idea or opinion on how things are, and whoever shouts the loudest gets the most attention. What is lacking, at least in academic training, is a clear historiographic overview of relevant disciplines and their interrelationships. Like the insight Norbert Elias formulated as early as 1936, namely the realization that everything we take for granted today became that at some point in history. ‘What can one do with forms of thinking which, by applying some artificial abstraction, lift all that has become historical from its natural embedding and strip it of its evolving and process character, so that it is conceived independently of its emergence and change and is reduced to something static?’.13 What is also lacking is the realization that – as Marijke Spies once remarked – there is an order to the questions one asks of cultural products. First of all, the own contextual embedding of artifacts must be addressed and only then can social and societal circulation and interpretation (‘reception’) be discussed. Moreover, certain questions are completely irrelevant. When David Hockney – to cite just one example – undertakes a search for the technical origins of perspective, it only illustrates the importance we assign to technology today (bp.afterword.2.1-2). What is also missing is the understanding that some academic disciplines – such as the Faculty of Architecture in Delft – have only become ‘scientific’ through a twist of political fate and by no means through the quality of their curriculum. Consequently, today’s architect is a heterogeneous ensemble in which the medieval master, the nineteenth-century artist, the socially engaged engineer, and the postmodern intellectual come together. The result is a hybrid practitioner, not 6 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 a scholar who can think about the cultural-historical consequences of ‘architectural interventions’ in a systematic way (bp.afterword.2.3-4). 14 What is missing, finally, is the realization that scientific concepts serve to determine and analyze the object of research, not to furnish a narrative, let alone to ease the ‘social talk’ between intellectuals. Svetlana Alpers pointed this out again in 1996 when she was asked to comment on the concept of ‘visual culture’ that she had introduced in the early 1980s. That concept served to identify similarities and differences in the Dutch visual arts of the seventeenth century and to determine their weight in relation to the early modern European context. ‘On such an account, visual culture is distinguished from a verbal or textual one. It is a discriminating notion, not an encompassing one. Disciplinary boundaries, like differences between artistic mediums, are a subject of investigation, not of denial’.15 If we want to take visual culture seriously, nowadays as well as in history, and allow its study to be more than the hype of the moment, we must make a start with what I earlier called ‘a disciplined eye’.16 This idea is in line with an observation made by Gerrit Komrij, who remarked the following a few years ago: ‘... the biggest problem is probably that we don’t know how to deal with images properly, that our visual education is inadequate. That a wave of neo-iconoclasts is looming. Our reception lacks complexity and critical ability. Our incompetence impoverishes the range of our visual stimuli. Narrows its scope. More visual knowledge is needed. Facts, exercises, lists. Ideas, histories, motifs. Paces, quotations, ambiguities. All mutatis mutandis. Reading has to be learned but looking at something everyone thinks he can do by himself’. If word-image complexes are to be studied more broadly, researchers (and students) must be trained in meticulous observation, just as one must train oneself to read literature in a precise way. That there will be differences between people in doing so is only natural. ‘It is true’, says Komrij in the same argument, ‘that many visually-minded people have difficulty with the word, to put it politely, but it is also true that many people who pride themselves on their mastery of the word and who faint at the sight of a spelling error have bitterly little understanding of images and of the mechanisms, signals and immanent uses that are attached to the visual. It is often astonishing how crude and ignorant they behave towards the images that present themselves to them’.17 Of course, the university has a societal duty to remedy these deficiencies – a duty that concerns the cultural heritage and thus the long term. In principle, it should be independent of the short-term concern about whether it will attract enough students, as is now university policy.18 The benefit and value of culturalhistorical sensitivity cannot be expressed in economic or financial terms. The 7 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 interaction takes place within entirely different registers and at entirely different times. For not only Henry van de Waal whom I quoted above, but Erwin Panofsky also defends the study of the arts: it is a cultural endeavor that must have primacy because it affects the thinking and actions of many. ‘For he who leads the contemplative life cannot help influencing the active, just as he cannot prevent the active life from influencing his thought. Philosophical and psychological theories, historical doctrines and all sorts of speculations and discoveries, have changed, and keep changing, the lives of countless millions’.19 Placing directional guidelines and mapping the disciplinary landscape, however, presupposes an understanding of the historiography of those disciplines. Knowledge of today must be able to be weighed against the history that disciplinary knowing has gone through. I therefore agree with Keith Moxey who remarked for art history ‘... that it is only if we historicize the position of the interpreter, if we can attempt to articulate our values and relativize our claims to knowledge in the light of our own cultural specificity, that we can fully recognize the political significance of what we write. This insistence on the “politics” of history will be particularly irksome to those who believe in the immanence of their own interpretations, those who believe that their histories actually coincide with the “order of things”.’20 On the basis of this knowledge it also becomes understandable how much scholars who think from ‘the social’ restrict the question to an all too simple solution and aim at an all too easy exchange of ‘information’. Interdisciplinarity leads to knowledge only if disciplines are preserved, articulating their own research objects, concepts, and questions. And only if scholars who want to do interdisciplinary research make an effort to appropriate all the knowledge from the different disciplines as well and strive to relate all this knowledge to each other in a consistent and coherent way. In this sense, a statement by Huizinga is relevant, who once described the task of cultural history in a similar way: ‘It is precisely in this area of a special morphology of culture that the great cohesion of all those humanities lies, which can be understood in the widest sense under the term history. Each works in its own field, but it is necessary that there is contact between all of them’.21 In this context, I would like to end with a statement made by Ernst Gombrich on this issue. If one wants to use historical visual material for social scientific research, one must first determine what kind of ‘images’ one is dealing with. ‘The social scientist has his own problem situation, his own theories he wishes to test and investigate. What he cannot tell unaided is what the land is like on our side. (...) The psychologist interested in the processes of creativity, the economist studying the correlation of investment and enlightened patronage, the sociologist plotting the fluctuations of taste, they cannot begin their work before they have 8 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 decided what evidence to use and what is their explicandum. It is this I had in mind when I suggested at the outset that the social scientist can assist the art historian, he cannot replace him’.22 Although the task that Gombrich saw in 1973 for the art historian – namely, to act as the guardian of the canon 23 – has changed in the meantime, his remark about the relationship between social science and art history is still valid. *** All these considerations have played a role in my comparative research of the early modern arts in Europe. All in all, I believe that the seventeenth-century house was a fortunate choice in researching the rules of thought. The cliché with which I began my research necessitated intensive editing. The pattern in which this cliché was embedded had to be examined piece by piece before it could finally tip over. My historical formalist analysis shows that the house – as well as the art of living well – underwent various transformations over time in terms of the architectural structure but also in terms of discursive, visual, and mental values attached to it. But this research also shows that the rules of thinking about the house itself have been subject to change and have their own pace of change. With more couleure locale and less dramatically formulated than Walter Benjamin’s evocation of Paul Klee’s Angelus Novus,24 Cats’ image of the rowing virgin provides a fitting illustration of the way in which cultural-historical research on the arts is moving into its future (bp.afterword.4). She moves forward, 9 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 rowing with the oars she has, facing the world she came from and with her back to the future yet unknown to her: Rosette spreaks to Sibille: Ick stont te Leyden eens en keeck, En leerde toen een soete streeck, Daer quam een vryster roeyen aen, Gelijck daer veeltijts wort gedaen, De vrouwen, als het is bekent, Sijn veel tot roeyen daer gewent; Het meysje flux en onvermoeyt Quam na de kaye toe geroeyt, Ick, die hier op nam goet gemerk, Stont vast en dacht, wat vreemder werck! De vryster wil aen desen kant, Maer slaet het oog op `t ander lant; En niet te min sy vordert meer, Als ofse ging den rechten keer. "Siet vrienden, hoe de weerelt gaet, "De schijn is anders als de daet: "Schoon of een maegt den rugge biet "Ten hindert aen het roeyen niet. Jacob Cats, in: Vryster, ADW I, p. 263. Rosette spreaks to Sibille: [Once I stood in Leiden and looked, And then learned a clever move, when a young spinster came rowing in, As was done much in those days, The women, as is well known, Are used to row a lot, The girl came quickly and tirelessly Rowed towards the quay, I took good note of it, I was sure and thought, what a marvelous job! The young spinster wants to go to this side, But has her eye on the other side; And nevertheless she progresses well, As if she were going straight there. "See friends, how the world goes, "Appearances are different from deeds: "Though a maiden may show her back "It does not hinder the rowing]. 10 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 PUBLICATIONS DR. HEIDI DE MARE On the Deconstruction of postmodern Cultural and Visual Culture Studies 2019 • ‘#MeToo, Representation & the Cleansing of the Image. The Role of Gender Studies in Media, Art and Culture’, Stichting IVMV. PDF 2018 • 2015 • 2014 • 2013 • • Review. Darren Kelsey (2015), Media, Myth and Terrorism. A DiscourseMythological Analysis of the ‘Blitz Spirit’ in British newspaper responses to the July 7th bombings. Palgrave, Macmillan, in: Journal of Language and Politics, [JLP 17: 5] by Bischof, Karin and Cornelia Ilie (eds., Democracy and Discriminatory Strategies in Parliamentary Discourse: 699-703. PDF Review. Laura Mulvey’s Legacy – Scary Movie-Scholars?!’. L. Mulvey c.s. (eds.), Feminisms. Diversity, Difference, and Multiplicity in Contemporary Film Cultures (AUP 2015), in: IVMV-online magazine 2015|3. PDF ‘ACW of de geruisloze uitverkoop van een vakgebied’, in: A. Verbrugge et al. (red.), Waartoe is de universiteit op aarde? Wat is er mis en hoe kan het beter? Boom: 187-193. PDF Review. ‘Geesteswetenschappen anno 2013: vitale staalkaart of failliete caleidoscoop?’ Themanummer geesteswetenschappen, de Groene Amsterdammer (no. 44/ 2013), blog Stichting IVMV. PDF ‘Academische plofstudie: accreditatie of anomalie? De wildgroei van culturele & visuele cultuurstudies in historisch perspectief’, KEY NOTE t.b.v.de landelijke dag van de Faculteit Cultuurwetenschappen van de Open Universiteit. PDF 2010 • 2009 • • ‘Beeldcultuur, een drieluik. I. Deconstructie van het fenomeen culturele studies’, in: Designgeschiedenis Nederland, p. 1-42. PDF ‘Contemplation on Visual Culture, a Triptych. 1. Deconstruction of the Academic Phenomenon of Cultural Studies’ (2019). Review. Jan Baetens, Ginette Verstraete et al., Culturele studies. Theorie in de praktijk (2009) and Joke Hermes & Maarten Reesink, Inleiding televisiestudies (2004). PDF ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. De kunst van interdisciplinair onderzoek’, in: Kunstlicht, Jubileumnummer ‘Kunstgeschiedenis & Interdisciplinariteit’, vol. 30, no. 3-4: 9099. PDF ‘Ars sine scientia nihil est. The Art of Interdisciplinary Research’ (2009) PDF ‘Een vorm van academisch kolonialisme? De achterkant van interdisciplinariteit’. Review P. Verstraten, Filmnarratologie (2007/2009), Stichting IVMV. PDF 11 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 2000 • ‘Gedisciplineerd kijken. Van kunstgeschiedenis naar historisch formalisme’, in: Kunstlicht, ‘De toekomst van kunstgeschiedenis’, vol. 20, no. 3-4: 14-20. PDF ‘A Disciplined Eye. From Art History to Historical Formalism’ (2019) PDF 1991 • ‘Vrouwenstudies filmgeschiedenis’, in: P. Bosma (red.), Filmkunde. Een inleiding. OU Heerlen/SUN Nijmegen: 253-266. PDF 1987 • • • 1986 • • • ‘Door het feminisme belaagd? Nawoord bij Patricia Mellencamp, “Situationcomedy, feminisme en Freud”’, in: Versus, 3/1987: 97-103. PDF ‘Vrouwenstudies bouwkunde Delft: haar situering ten opzichte van de feministische kritiek op de gebouwde omgeving’, in: Inrichten Groningen zomeruniversiteit: 87-97. ‘Postmoderne architektuur en vrouwenstudies?’, met A. Vos e.a., in: Phème, feministisch tijdschrift voor de universiteit van Amsterdam, 1/ 1: 9-10. ‘Mulvey’s eendimensionale systeem. Bij dezen dan voor het laatst “Visual Pleasure”’, in: Versus, no. 2 (1986): 35-54 PDF. ‘Mulvey’s eindimensionales System. Hiermit dann zum letzten Mal ‘Visual Pleasure’ (1986) PDF. ‘Mulvey’s One-Dimensional System. A Last Look at “Visual Pleasure”’, (2015) in: IVMVonline magazine 2015|3. PDF ‘Van horen zien. “De vrouw” als onmogelijke kategorie in feministies filmtheoretisch onderzoek’, in: Tijdschrift voor vrouwenstudies, 7/ 3: 302-321. PDF ‘Claire Johnston: het begin van een feministische filmtheorie?’, in: Versus, 2: 119123. PDF. ‘Claire Johnston: Der Beginn einer feministischen Filmtheorie?’ (1986). PDF 1985 • ‘Ik zie, ik zie, wat jij niet ziet. Aantekeningen over vrouwen en film’, in: Tijdschrift voor vrouwenstudies, 6/ 3: 313-340. PDF 1981 • • • ‘Kennis en weten. Over wetenschapskritiek vanuit (de ervaringen) van vrouwen’. Met G. Dresen, M. Geurten, A.-M. Korte, in: Tijdschrift voor vrouwenstudies. Reprint 2005 in: A. M’charek, B. van Balen & A. Andeweg (red.). Sporen en Resonanties: De klassieken van de Nederlandstalige genderstudies. Amsterdam: 132-139. PDF Review. G. Greer, Vrouwenwerk. Wedloop vol hindernissen, in: Tijdschrift voor vrouwenstudies, no. 1: 113-116. PDF Review. D. Meijers, De vrouw een godin, de kunst een god, in: De Heilstaat. Blad van kunsthistorische studenten Amsterdam: 3-18. 1980 • ‘Feministiese kunst bestaat niet’, in: Tijdschrift voor vrouwenstudies, vol. 1, no. 3, 293-318. PDF 12 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Commercial and revised edition of my dissertation in 2012: Huiselijke taferelen. De veranderende rol van het beeld in de Gouden Eeuw. Nijmegen: Uitgeverij Vantilt. COMPLETE BIBLIOGRAPHY cum laude Dissertation 2003 [including SUMMARY]: PDF References Epilogue Alpers, S., ‘Visual Culture debate’, in: October (1997B), 77, p. 26. Alst, J. van & J. Linssen, ‘Postmodernisme en psychoanalyse. “Het postmodernisme is een filosofische duizeling”’, in: KU Nieuws, 17 (12.02.1988), 19, pp. 10-11. Althusser, L., ‘Freud en Lacan (1964)’, in: Te Elfder Ure 21: Psychoanalyse 1. Nijmegen 1976, pp. 207-230. Barthes, R., Mythologieën. Amsterdam 1975 (1957). Baudet. H., De lange weg naar de Technische Universiteit Delft. De Delftse ingenieursschool en haar voorgeschiedenis. Den Haag 1992. Benjamin, W., ‘Über den Begriff der Geschichte’, in: Walter Benjamin. Gesammelte Schriften. Band I.2. Abhandlungen werkausgabe. Frankfurt am Main 1980, pp. 691-704. Deleuze, G., ‘Forword: The Rise of the Social’, in: J. Donzelot, The Policing of Families. New York 1979, pp. ix-xvii. De Mare, H., ‘Gedisciplineerd kijken. Van kunstgeschiedenis naar historisch formalisme’, in: Kunstlicht: De toekomst van de kunsthistorische wetenschap (2000), 3/4, pp. 14-20. Doniger, W., The Implied Spider. Politics & Theology in Myth. New York 1998. Elias, N., Het civilisatieproces. Sociogenetische en psychogenetische onderzoekingen. Utrecht 1990 (1937-1939). Emmens, J.A., Rembrandt en de regels van de kunst. Utrecht 1964. Emmens, J.A., ‘De kinderen van Homerus (1966)’, in: J.A. Emmens, Kunsthistorische opstellen II. Amsterdam 1981-IIG, pp. 87-98. Frijhoff, W.Th.M., Heiligen, idolen, iconen. Nijmegen 1998. Gombrich, E.H., Art history and the social sciences. Oxford 1975A. Huizinga, J., ‘De taak der cultuurgeschiedenis (1926)’, in: J. Huizinga, De taak der cultuurgeschiedenis. Groningen 1995, pp. 72-134. Komrij, G., ‘Neo-iconoclasme. Over de teloorgang van het kijken in het tijdperk van het beeld’, in: G. Komrij, Kijken is bekeken worden. Uit de kelders van het Stedelijk. Amsterdam/ Antwerpen 1996, pp. 15-29. Moxey, K., The Practice of Theory. Poststructuralism, Cultural Politics, and Art History. New York 1994A. Panofsky, E., ‘Art as a Humanistic Discipline’, in: E. Panofsky, Meaning in the Visual arts. Papers in and on Art History. New York 1955C, pp. 1-25. Smienk, G. & J. Niemeijer (ed.), De hand van de meester. Het ontwerponderwijs in de praktijk. Rotterdam 2000. Stam, R., Film Theory. An Introduction. Oxford 2000. Summers, D., ‘Convention in the History of Art’, in: New Literary History, 13 (1981), 1, pp. 103125, Van de Waal, H., Traditie en Bezieling. Rotterdam/ Antwerpen 1946. Walker, J.A. & S. Chaplin, Visual Culture: an introduction. Manchester 1997. 13 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Notes Epilogue 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19 . 20. 21 . 22. 23. 24. Deleuze 1979, pp. ix-xvii. Barthes 1975, p. 273 calls the transformation of history into nature the fundamental principle of myth. Frijhoff 1998, pp. 16-17. Summers 1981, p. 104. Frijhoff 1998, p. 17. Althusser 1976. Doniger 1998, p. 52. Huizinga 1995, pp. 117-118. Emmens 1964, p. vii. Walker & Chaplin 1997, p. 3. Assoun (in: Alst & Linssen 1988, p. 11). Barthes 1975, pp. 9-10. Elias 1990, p. 16. Baudet 1992, pp. 208-211, 233-240; Smienk 2000. Alpers 1997B, p. 26. De Mare 2000. Komrij 1996, p. 27. Doniger 1998, pp. 154-155. Just as it is unrelated to the overly inflated scientific production at the moment. Panofsky 1955C, p. 23. Moxey 1994A, pp. xii-xiii. See also Stam 2000, p. 240. Huizinga 1995, p. 120. Gombrich 1975A, p. 57. Gombrich 1975A, p. 57. Benjamin 1980, I-2, pp. 697-698. 14 

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Zurko, E.R. de, Origins of functionalist theory. New York 1957. Zwaan, T., ‘Families, huwelijken en gezinnen: een introductie’, in: T. Zwaan, Familie, huwelijk en gezin in West-Europa. Amsterdam/ Heerlen 1993, pp. 11-37. Zwijnenberg, R., ‘De wetenschap der schilderkunst - Leonardo da Vinci’s Paragone’, in: A.C.G. 801 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Fleurkens et al. (ed.), Dans der muzen. Hilversum 1995A, pp. 23-32. Zwijnenberg, R., ‘Een interpretatie ex ignorantia’, in: F. Ankersmit et al. (ed.), Hermeneutiek en cultuur. Interpretatie in de kunst- en cultuurwetenschappen. Amsterdam/ Meppel 1995B, pp. 180-199. Zwijnenberg, R., ‘Inleiding’, in: Leonardo da Vinci. Paragone. Verhandeling over de schilderkunst. Eerste boek. Amsterdam/ Meppel 1996, pp. 7-39. 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VRIJE UNIVERSITEIT THE HOUSE AND THE RULES OF THOUGHT A cultural-historical research into the work of Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats, Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten ACADEMIC DISSERTATION in order to obtain the degree of doctor at the Vrije Universiteit of Amsterdam, by authority of the Rector Magnificus prof. dr. T. Sminia, to defend publicly in the presence of the Doctorate Committee of the Faculty of Arts on Tuesday 28 January 2003 at 1.45 p.m. in the university auditorium, De Boelelaan 1105 by Heidi de Mare born in Amsterdam 1 supervisors prof. dr. Willem Th.M. Frijhoff prof. dr. Ed. S.H. Tan doctorate committee dr. Caroline van Eck, History of Early Modern Architectural Theory prof. dr. Marlite Halbertsma, Historical Aspects of Art and Culture prof. dr. Marijke Spies, Historical Literature prof. dr. Ilja M. Veltman, Art History and Iconology Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch, 2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam, http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Commercial and revised edition 2012: Huiselijke taferelen. De veranderende rol van het beeld in de Gouden Eeuw. Nijmegen: Uitgeverij Vantilt. Website & research: https://independent.academia.edu/HeidideMare/ https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Heidi-De-Mare https://maatschappelijkeverbeelding.nl/ 2 Preface vii Introduction. There is a house in Holland Chapter 1. 1 Sources and Methodology 1.1. Sources 1.1.1. Simon Stevin and his Architectural Treatise 1.1.2. The Houwelick by Jacob Cats 1.1.3. Pieter de Hooch and his Paintings 1.2. Methodological principles of historical formalism 1.2. Introduction. A Cultural-Historical Study of the Arts 1.2.1. A History of the Arts 1.2.2. The Arts as Formal Signifying Systems 1.2.3. Source Criticism 1.2.4. Vocabulary, Text Analysis and Deployment Chapter 2. 69 75 85 97 105 Simon Stevin and the Liberated House 2.1. The Arrangement in the House 2.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the House 2.1.1. Matter and Firmness 2.1.2. Finding of the Cleansed Chamber 2.1.3. Classification according to Nature 2.1.4. Properties of the House Drawing 2.2. Arrangements in the Field of Architectural Thinking 2.2.1. Column, Congruence and Comfortable Appearance 2.2.2. The Perfect House Drawing as a Memory System 2.2.3. The Art of Architecture, Reflection and Doing Chapter 3. 21 37 53 119 125 141 157 177 195 213 231 Jacob Cats and the House as Honorable Enterprise 3.1. The Arrangement of the House as Enterprise 3.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the House as Enterprise 3.1.1. Household Goods and the Mistress of the House 3.1.2. The Art of Lovemaking and the Tableau of Characters 3.1.3. Passions and Moods 3.1.4. The House as Place of Spirituality 3 251 265 285 305 325 3.2. Arrangements in the Art of Living Well 3.2.1. The House as Matter of Marital Honor 3.2.2. The House as Condensation of the Art of Living Well 3.2.3. Practicing the Eloquent Mean Chapter 4. Pieter de Hooch, Samuel van Hoogstraten and the Chamber Scape 4.1. The Arrangement on the Flat Plane 4.1. Introduction: The Arrangement of the Flat Plane 4.1.1. The Translucency of the Chamber Scape 4.1.2. The Study of the Enclosed Chamber Lights 4.1.3. The Art of Suitable Color Matching 4.1.4. Bodies 4.2. Arrangements in Visual Knowledge 4.2.1. The Art of Painting as Work 4.2.2. Pictorial Archive and the Chamber Scape as Sediment 4.2.3. The Moving Painting and the Craving Eye 4.2.4. From the Art of Painting to the Theory of Art Chapter 5. 341 361 379 399 415 435 451 473 499 519 547 577 Aggregation, Reflection and Speculation 5.1. Aggregation 5.1. Introduction [7] 5.1.1. The Study of Nature in Early Modern Europe [12] 5.1.2. Visual Knowledge [29] 5.1.3. The Burgher and the Benefits of Natural Philosophy [42] 5.1.4 Aristotle in Holland [54] 5.2. Reflection 5.2.1. Aby Warburg and Cultural History as a Scholarly Field of Study 5.2.2. Art History according to Panofsky, Wittkower and Gombrich 5.2.3. The Dutch Art Historians Van de Waal and Emmens 5.2.4. Plato and Dutch Art and Architectural History Epilogue – Closer to Home. The Value of Cultural-Historical Sensibility Summary Notes Bibliography Visual material Origins visual material 591 597 613 627 639 649 663 679 689 709 719 733 971 1055 1365 4 Images Chapter 5 – Beeldpagina’s [Bp] Bp 1-16 https://research.vu.nl/ws/portalfiles/portal/42170999/Hoofdstuk+5+afb+1+16.pdf 5 CHAPTER 5 Part 1 COHERENCE, REFLECTION AND SPECULATION 6 5.1. Introduction So far, the ‘house’ in Holland appears to be the byproduct of traditions that develop more or less independently of each other. Although it is common to consider architecture, poetry, and painting in the early modern period as sister arts between which a lot of exchange took place, 1 my research reveals that the art of building, the art of poetry, and the art of painting primarily share the epistemological level: in each of these traditions thinking about the house is part of the study of Nature. Such a natural philosophical foundation in early modern thinking does not prevent the various arts, given the different characteristics of the matter they focus on, from going different ways and each at its own pace. The insights often take on a visual form – such as architectural drawings, painted tableaux and engravings. The combination of these activities leads to a differentiated conception of the house: depictions that complement, support and reinforce each other. The transformation of this multiple ‘by-product’ into the house as an ‘entity’ – a metamorphosis that takes place at the time of the Dutch Republic – has everything to do with the early modern burgher, as will be seen. The respective differences between these traditions have already been addressed in all their richness in the previous chapters on Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats, and Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten. I will not come back to it in this final Chapter. We now know that paint is not language, and an architectural drawing is not poetry. Furthermore, it is clear that the various traditions of thought have each paved their own way through early modern Europe. This does not mean, however, that there would be no common ground. In previously published articles I have emphasized themes that are discussed by Stevin, as well as by Cats and De Hooch. These themes often concerned border issues and the cultural handling of them, such as the transformation of food (nature) into edible goods (culture) and thus the importance attached to the kitchen. But also the definition of the border: between city and country, or the area (the threshold) that separates and connects house and street. 2 At this point, I will not return to these thematic convergences. More important to me are the conceptual similarities between these fields. I am now concerned with the more general problem. is it possible to identify more precisely the epistemology that connects these three conceptual areas? Although I have discussed early modern Europe in the foregoing, the place, the interconnections, and the significance of the three fields related to the house are not yet clear. Nor have I talked so far about Dutch civic culture. The great innovations taking place in period in Europe and in the Republic in particular – in state and town, in religion and economy, in philosophy and natural science – were only sideways mentioned. It is thus time to consider how the conceptual lines in the thought of Stevin, Cats, De Hooch, and Van Hoogstraten relate to the epistemological ruptures that are emerging more broadly. How does the 7 Aristotelian universe of the early modern house relate to new developments in science? And how does this thinking, which was founded on classical principles, relate to the political-economic development that made the Netherlands such an exceptional place in Europe at the time? In choosing my sources, have I not brought out a backward sector of early modern thought? Is the picture evoked by this study not a perfect fit with the thesis of Huizinga and others that medieval and conservative forces strongly permeate seventeenth-century Holland? But how can this be reconciled with the fact that Stevin, Cats, De Hooch and Van Hoogstraten represent precisely the new – scientific and technical, moral and visual – elements of the Golden Age in the general picture? In the following sections, therefore, I will ask more questions than I will be able to answer. The connections I propose between various cultural phenomena will therefore have a somewhat speculative slant. In the first part of this 5th and final Chapter, I will seek these relationships primarily at the epistemological level. The starting point is that – seen from the existing ‘art histories’ – a comparative analysis of the arts in Europe is more interesting than the usual chronological method of following the ‘avant-garde’ on its European triumphal march from Italy to the Netherlands. After all, as we have seen, Stevin, Cats and Van Hoogstraten were thinking and reflecting within a broad European horizon. Their intellectual sources are not only written in Latin, German, Italian, French, and English, but also Greek and even Arabic. 3 A broad, supranational approach has long existed, particularly in the cultural field (Republic of Letters, intellectual relations, etc.). If you look at European history, you can see that there has always been an exchange. People, insights, stories, language, and skills went back and forth in which geographical boundaries (mountains, rivers, and seas) were hardly an obstacle.4 In recent years, anthropologists and historians have once again brought the theme of leaving national borders to the fore.5 Berkvens-Stevelinck and others recall that Europe has a ‘network of pathways of civilization’ along which cultural developments move. ‘Cultural centers, is the idea, are connected by a number of basic paths. These basic routes have different origins and originate from different periods. A number of routes correspond to military strategic access routes to the various regions and were used both by the Roman legions and subsequently by the countless European armies. Other routes can be traced back to medieval pilgrim paths or to the foundation of monasteries of a certain order. Economically important connections also underlie cultural influences. Roads of civilization therefore have all kinds of causes and in the long run these causes will tumble over each other. Be that as it may: new cultural influences tend to operate along pre-existing roads, with branches to hitherto unknown places and additions of peripheral cultural centers’. The perpetuation of existing patterns of exchange and the exponential increase in the number of cultural centers external to those patterns is a characteristic consequence not only of the early modern art of book 8 printing, which is based on a network of places where printing could be done, and the printed matter could be brought into circulation. It applies equally to the current global spread of computers and thus access to the Internet, according to Berksven-Stevelinck.6 The idea that certain regions are intellectually at the forefront of research into cultural transmission is less relevant. 7 ‘After all, culture as a common property of a society is the result of centuries of development and shows a much greater stability and integrating capacity than the political, economic and military situation. A common cultural asset cannot have arisen in any other way than through a process of intensive mutual contact and exchange between the participants in that common culture’.8 This view, expressed by historian Ad van der Woude, certainly seems appropriate when it comes to a cultural history of the arts. For artistic and cultural expressions are relatively easily transferred, exchanged, transformed, and appropriated. One may take the elimination of boundaries a step further. The sphere of influence of the arts turns out not to be limited to ‘Europe’ in the stricter sense.9 In particular, the music, the form least laden with meaning, appears to be so flexible that it has moved back and forth across the Indo-European continent for centuries. But also, techniques, visual culture and abstract knowledge systems have been emigrated and modified over long distances. In this sense a revision of the existing art history in the sense of Fernand Braudel is welcome. Instead of looking primarily at the hectic succession of unique works of art, genius artists, or new styles, one should also take into account developments that span geographically larger areas and longer periods of time. The cultural expressions that emerge at the surface are not infrequently exponents of colliding tectonic plates of a cultural nature that are in constant flux, resulting in the manifestation of old fractures and the creation of new gaps. The consequence would be a revision that abandons the ‘nationalism’ and ‘Eurocentrism’ of current art history in more than a superficial sense. Recent revisions such as Honour and Fleming’s (1999) A World History of Art, while acknowledging ‘non-Western’ cultural expressions, simply insert the ‘art’ of these ‘other cultures’ into an otherwise barely changed historiography and based on a modern Western understanding of art. For the time being, such an innovation is limited to cosmetic surgery. 10 A more fundamental historiography of the ‘open Eurasian space’ will therefore not be easy.11 For the time being, the cultural history of the arts in early modern Europe shows that research into parallels between Italy and Holland is more interesting than enlarging the differences – until now the prevailing approach in art history and, in imitation of it, also in (cultural) history. Alpers once pointed out that nineteenth-century stylistic history, based on differences in art objects, has formulated a periodization that has become universally guiding.12 Would it not be more challenging to be able to understand the differences that undeniably exist in Europe – the local ambitions and regional emphases – as forms of variation 9 (magnification, deviation, reversal, adaptation, etc.) within an early modern universe whose conceptual conditions of existence are shared? This would mean that people can communicate and debate with each other in many areas and will nonetheless distinguish themselves from each other. Such a comparative approach makes it possible to analyze cultural phenomena from a more comprehensive internal dynamic. In this way one may be able to ask different questions and look at known connections in a different light. In the first part of Chapter 5 I will deal with the following three propositions. 1. Antique natural philosophical thought is more strongly present in early modern culture than is often suspected. Aristotelian thinking in particular plays a crucial role in the acquisition of empirical knowledge and the rational ordering of things. Characteristics that in recent scientific history have contributed to the formation of a ‘universe of precision’ (Cohen), as an important condition for the scientific revolution of the seventeenth century (5.1.1.). 2. Image and imaging were of strategic importance for the determination, display, transmission, and appropriation of (scientific) knowledge. I will therefore relate the ‘universe of precision’ to the visual arrangement of new insights and the generation of knowledge. Three new epistemological relationships (image-word, observationarrangement, knowledge acquisition-knowledge dissemination) emerge that cast early modern knowledge in a different light (5.1.2.).13 Through epistemological implications of visual culture in early modern Europe I come to a final issue. This is of a more general nature and relates to the regional context in which natural philosophical thinking thrives in Europe. 3. For the perpetuation of the innovations in early modern thought, burghers and burgher culture have meant more than the court and the culture associated with it. Many studies emphasize the importance of the aristocratic elite and ‘the wealthy intelligentsia’ showing off new knowledge through illustrated technical books such as the ‘coffee table book’.14 My research suggests that early modern Aristotelian thought is more consistent with the habitus of the early modern burgher. That said, the sovereign and the intellectuals at court played an important role in acquiring this knowledge (5.1.3.). This last statement calls into question Elias’s model of the courtly civilization process. Together, these three sections form a framework in which not only the developments of the early modern arts are placed, but also the understandings and values associated with the house during this same period. In the last section these layers come together in condensed form in the painting Perspective from a Threshold (1662) by Samuel van Hoogstraten (5.1.4.). The second part of Chapter 5 shifts the focus to another, more reflexive level. Starting again from my earlier findings, it focuses on a few important epistemological lines along which the art-historical field developed in the twentieth century. My interest in the genealogy of art historiography of the first 10 half of the 20th century has been fueled by the assumption that there exists a certain similarity between my conception of cultural history and that of earlier art historians. In section 5.2.1. I will pay attention to the work of Aby Warburg at the beginning of the 20th century. In this context it also becomes clear how the work of Erwin Panofsky, Rudolf Wittkower and Ernst Gombrich fits in (5.2.2.). In the next section I discuss the work of two Dutch art historians, Henry van de Waal and Jan Emmens (5.2.3.). Working in the fifties and sixties of the twentieth century, they are generally regarded as forerunners of today’s art-historical views. Given their attitude toward historical research, however, they are more in line with the cultural-historical approach of earlier art historians such as Warburg and Gombrich. Their untimely death in the early 1970s concludes this ‘culturalhistorical’ episode in Dutch visual arts history. From that moment on, Dutch art history develops in very different directions.15 In the Netherlands, a selective reception of the work of Panofsky (in iconology) and of Wittkower (in architectural history) becomes dominant for several decades: one appropriated only certain works and moreover in a very specific and limited, ahistorical way (5.2.4.). As a conclusion to the project, I will formulate some concluding remarks. In the epilogue I will make a few comments on the rules and the temporality of current thought. I want to indicate – in the light of a cultural history of the arts – which possibilities interdisciplinarity offers us, but also which dangers lie concealed within it. 11 5.1.1. The Study of Nature in Early Modern Europe ‘Tis wel waer datter inde Natuer niet wonderlick en is, nochtans tot onderscheyt der dinghen die wy duer de oirsaken verstaen, vande ghene welcker redenen ons onbekent sijn, soo gheuen wy dese met recht de naem van wonder, niet dat sijt eyghentlick sijn, maer om dattet hem voor ons alsoo ghelaet. Simon Stevin, ‘Vytspraeck vande weerdicheyt der duytsche tael’, in: De Beghinselen der weeghconst (1586), opgedragen aan ‘Rvdolf den IIen, Roomsch Keyser’, p. 9 (PWS I, p. 58). [It is true that in Nature there is nothing miraculous, but that we distinguish the things which we understand from causes, from the things whose rationale is unknown to us, so we rightly give these the name of miracle, not because they actually are, but because they present themselves to us in this way. Simon Stevin, 'Judgment on the dignity of the Dutch language', In: The Principles of the Art of Weighing (1586), dedicated to 'Rudolf the Second, Roman Emperor], p. 9 (PWS I, p. 58). The corpus Aristotelicum, as Van Bunge recently argued, serves primarily as a global frame of reference in the early modern period and not as a specific or pure philosophy.16 During the Middle Ages, Aristotle’s philosophy of Nature, together with his other works, continued to work its way into the complexities of university scholastic thinking.17 Antique commonplaces were used in commentaries, incorporated, elaborated, reversed, modified, but the shifts were gradual and remained within the existing paradigmatic boundaries.18 According to the literature, no major changes occurred in this respect in the early modern period. This also applies to Holland where the academic tradition was still young with the foundation of the first university in Leiden (1575), but where the curriculum was similar to that of other European universities. Schmitt points out ‘that Aristotelianism lost out to Cartesianism only at the very end of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth century. That is to say: Aristotelianism did not end as the dominant university philosophy with the onset of humanism, nor with the Copernican Revolution, nor with the seventeenth century Scientific Revolution’.19 It is true that Aristotle was attacked on certain points (see e.g. the drop tests conducted by Stevin before 1585 in Delft and possibly by Galilei between 1589-1592 in Pisa), but there has been opposition throughout history. 20 Even in this period the Aristotelian paradigm remains in force for a long time, especially when it comes to Nature, matter and living beings.21 However, the perspective does shift. The rediscovery of already completed but lost antique knowledge makes way in the early modern era for the pursuit of the recovery of knowledge whose completion lies in the distant future.22 In Stevin’s Wysentijt [Age of Wisdom] this shift is clearly visible. He assumes that once there 12 was complete knowledge, but that it has been lost. Only by gathering of all possible data by everyone it will be possible, he believes, to (re)find the complete knowledge in the distant future. Bacon is also looking for science in the future. 23 Cohen points out that Descartes occupies a special place in this respect. Descartes does not place the completion of knowledge in the past, nor in the future, but in the present and in himself.24 In this sense Descartes competes with Aristotle in ‘het onderzoek der Natuur’ [the investigation of Nature].25 He is trying to take his place by presenting a new, much better, elaborate system of Nature. He ends his argument ‘Over de methode’ [On Method] as follows: ‘Ik wil alleen maar zeggen dat ik vastbesloten ben de rest van mijn leven enkel te besteden aan het verwerven van een zodanig inzicht in de natuur dat men er voor de geneeskunde enkele regels uit kan afleiden die zekerder zijn dan die welke men tot nog toe gehanteerd heeft. (...) wie mij de gunst wil doen mij onbelemmerd mijn gang te laten gaan, zal altijd meer op mijn dankbaarheid kunnen rekenen dan wie mij de meest eervolle ambten ter wereld zou aanbieden’ [I only want to say that I am determined to devote the rest of my life solely to acquiring such an understanding of Nature that one can derive from it some rules for medicine that are more certain than those that have been used until now. (...) whoever wishes to do me the favor of letting me go my way unhindered, will always be able to count on my gratitude more than whoever would offer me the most honorable offices in the world].26 There is now consensus in the history of science that the Book of Nature is far from being closed in the early modern period. Some time ago, all attention was focused on the rationalist-mathematical progress of the ‘Scientific Revolution’ and people considered the numerology, the antique theories of sympathy and antipathy or the cosmological harmony as obsolete relics of natural philosophy.27 Such ideas served at most as anecdotes, a personal note to give a little more color to scientists of yesteryear. Occasionally remains were found, especially among scientists who were known to be typical representatives of epistemological renewal. For example, in the case of Copernicus who describes his revolutionary solar system in terms of kinship: ‘And indeed, when seated on a royal throne, the Sun rules the family of surrounding stars’.28 Or when Kepler describes the solar system in terms of Pythagorean number mysticism and turns the harmony of the planets into music.29 In reality, Aristotle’s impact stretched much further, as the science historian Charles Schmitt at the Warburg Institute observed in 1973: ‘Aristotelianism did not end with Copernicus, nor even with Galileo and Bacon. In fact, it thrived throughout the sixteenth century, as it never had before, and was still in full bloom for most of the seventeenth century’.30 But just as there is no mention of ‘the’ Neoplatonist philosophy in the early modern era, there is no mention of ‘Aristotelianism’. ‘Aristotelianism, besides having a specific and quite clearly definable method of its own, is much broader and encompasses a more or less comprehensive system of philosophy and science’, according to Schmitt.31 Plato’s 13 work occupies a relatively small place in this soil steeped in Aristotelian natural philosophy. From the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, many manuscripts and comments on his Timaeus circulated outside the universities.32 In the fifteenth century – especially by Marsilio Ficino – this work was revived. But at European universities Plato’s work was rarely read until the second half of the sixteenth century.33 In Holland, too, Pythagorean Platonic thinking remains a marginal phenomenon.34 Seventeenth-century Dutch philosophy lacks almost any trace of Plato.35 My research into the arts underscores the thesis that antique natural philosophy is preserved until the seventeenth century. That my research reveals that Greek thought (especially that of Aristotle) had a strong influence in seventeenth-century Holland is not news to historians of science at this moment. Margaret Olsen recently confirmed this view when she wrote: ‘Despite their widespread rejection of Aristotelianism, early modern natural philosophers continued to deal with the same range of topics as their medieval predecessors. Renaissance textbooks on natural philosophy tended to follow the medieval pattern of commenting on Aristotle’s books on the natural world. However, even seventeenth-century natural philosophers who explicitly rejected Aristotle continued to consider the traditional range of topics, attempting to show that their new, mechanical philosophy could function as a complete replacement for Aristotelianism’.36 Similar statements can also be found with other authors.37 For the cultural history of the early modern arts, on the other hand, the importance of classical natural philosophy is as surprising today as it was for the natural sciences thirty years ago. 38 Until the 1970s, the recognition of the importance of Aristotelian thought among science historians in the early modern period was certainly not self-evident. ‘In fact, the basic Aristotelian structure of the university during that period [1550-1650] seems to occasion more alarm and indignation – as well as more invective – on the part of recent interpreters than it provoked in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries’, Osler summarizes the modern resistance against this idea. Something similar is going on in average art history. If mentioned at all in the history of art and architecture, Aristotle is associated with medieval scholasticism, in which studying and commenting on texts would lead to truth. And as such – certainly for the Dutch Golden Age – it is considered obsolete and put aside with a single word.39 Medieval ‘scholasticism’ and ‘Aristotelian thinking’ must therefore be distinguished from each other, writes Schmitt, in order to be able to see that even after the Middle Ages Aristotelian thinking is still present, active and very fruitful. 40 This section is therefore devoted to the question of how my conclusions regarding the three early modern arts fit in with the current state of scientific history. For the sake of clarity, it should be noted that my claim does not mean that in Holland people read many classical authors (whether or not in translation). The fact that this was the case is shown by the many editions that saw the light of day in Holland. Reading culture in this 14 sense is well known and is one of the regular features of the Golden Age. 41 Nor do I mean that the ‘actual meaning’ of seventeenth-century Dutch art can be traced back to Aristotle. My remark concerns the question of what cultural-historical weight should be given to antique thought as it has become interwoven over the centuries, and this with regard to thinking about the art of building, of poetry and of painting that I have studied (bp.5.1). Exactly how and where and to what extent Aristotelian philosophy has influenced the thinking about these arts as knowledge systems in Holland – is a question for later research. The natural philosophical terminology is used by the coryphées of the new philosophical thinking and by representatives of the new natural sciences. From a cultural-historical point of view, it is remarkable that many thinkers who are known for their new ideas do so on the basis of existing terms and thus did not develop a new idiom. Where the philosophy of science emphasizes the progress of ideas, a science historian will focus on the conceptual instruments used by an early modern thinker, in order to be able to estimate the possible renewal in thinking at its historical value. Schmitt also pointed out this fundamental disciplinary difference and thus the incompatibility of both question and scientific result.42 I will not comment on the new philosophical ideas, nor will I delve deeply into the state of the experimental sciences in the early modern age. Both in the ‘new philosophy’ of René Descartes (who has worked in Holland since 1618)43 and in the new ‘Ethics’ of Benedict de Spinoza (1632-1677) the antique vocabulary is abundantly present and active. 44 For scholars like Constantijn Huygens, and Isaac Beeckman, the same applies, as for Mersenne and Bayle. 45 Because of their prominent anti-Aristotelian criticism such authors have gone down in history as innovators.46 In later times this resulted in a colored and especially one-sided historiography. To this day, philosophers have accepted it as the truth about the history of their discipline. 47 ‘In fact, in reading general histories in these fields one is struck by the uniformity of judgement among scholars concerning the significance of late medieval and early modern scholasticism. Not only do defenders of modern culture play down the Aristotelian element in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, but defenders of medieval scholastic philosophy and theology dismiss the continuity of that tradition in later centuries as being “decadent” or having suffered serious “decline”’.48 Not only the history of science, but also art history has long been based on this somewhat clichéd view. Nevertheless, in the history of science, an adjustment has taken place in the sense that these scholars are not judged solely on their innovations. It is also – as Schmitt makes clear – about the (Aristotelian) knowledge from which these innovations could emerge. ‘Aside from the well-known passages where Galileo, Bacon and Descartes were critical of the Peripatetics, we can see through a closer investigation of their writings – and especially their correspondence – just how 15 seriously they took their scholastic contemporaries’.49 The terms used by these scholars are more than just loose, ‘old-fashioned’ or ‘technical terms’ from scholasticism as one might think. 50 The prolonged use of certain terms not only contributed to an internalization of Aristotelian philosophy, but also ‘spontaneously’ activated certain reasonings and questions. Schmitt speaks in this case about ‘the unconscious acceptance of many Aristotelian ideas and doctrines on the part of early modern thinkers who made every attempt to be antiAristotelian. (...) By the time of the Renaissance, such things were so deeply imbedded in the whole educational structure that it was very difficult, even for such “anti-Aristotelian” writers as Gianfrancesco Pico, Nicolaus Copernicus, Petrus Ramus, and Bernardino Telesio, to escape from certain Aristotelian influences, trying as they would’.51 Descartes and Spinoza too organize their ‘Research of Nature’ according to a number of classical commonplaces that pop up in their formulations.52 Based on the shared conceptual connections – which, by the way, are multiple and differentiated 53 – the scholars develop their ideas. Within that framework, they make new links, test other conceptual combinations, and generate new statements. The study of Latin and later Greek versions of Aristotle’s works, the consideration of the comments of followers led, according to Schmitt, to the appreciation of Aristotelian thought in the early modern period. ‘The result was a better understanding of Aristotle’s philosophy, both in its strengths and in its weakness. Perhaps this more critical approach to the text, as much as anything else (...) led to its eventual downfall as the dominant philosophy of Europe’.54 Instead of a passive conceptual apparatus that slowly wears off and eventually disappears into the shadow of the more modern paradigm, the innovations that emerge from the Aristotelian paradigm help people to ‘escape’ from it, as Schmitt calls it. 55 With their critical lecture, Descartes and Spinoza join this long humanist tradition. This surviving network of Greek-antique concepts and the natural philosophical vocabulary developed in medieval scholasticism would be at work for a long time in early modern knowledge systems, like in the art of painting, building, and poetry.56 This is unmistakably the case with Stevin, especially where he makes lists of Dutch terms that correspond to Greek and Latin terms. 57 Jacob Cats and Samuel van Hoogstraten too, use natural philosophical terms and commonplaces. Each views nature as an ordered whole in which both inanimate and living beings possess their own natures, innate potentials, and natural qualities that give them their proper place in the world. Every body naturally strives to reach its own place, it moves on the basis of its own causes.58 Dijksterhuis once explained the potential of ‘a thing’ in an Aristotelian sense (in a very appropriately way) as follows: ‘Beams and bricks may potentially be a house, but 16 there is only the movement of “building” when one makes use of their suitability to form a house, not as long as they are unused on the building site’.59 Knowledge of natural causes, their possibilities, their changes, the pros and cons of the properties of natural phenomena when combinations are involved, in short, the understanding of the whole natural field of forces, always forms the basis on which specific and true knowledge is based in the three domains I have investigated. ‘Nature was the principle of motion, or change, and change was teleologically conceptualized as the effects of process, or the striving towards a goal. Thus, the flux of generation and corruption received its rational ordering through final causes. To give a scientific explanation was to give an account of a thing’s particular nature or form, and a thing’s nature was only revealed by discovering the end towards which it strove’.60 So the question is how the study of Nature as it takes place within the art of building, the art of poetry and the art of painting fits into the history of natural philosophy. It means that it can become clear that Stevin considers occult knowledge (in which number mysticism plays a role) and alchemy (in which one strives to make gold) reprehensible, not so much because of the ‘secret’ properties that numbers, and substances possess by nature, but because of the abuse that is made of that miraculous truth. Mathematics relies as much on the potential, but often still secret properties of numbers. Finding, appropriating, and using this knowledge is the ratio of Stevin’s judgment in this matter.61 I will highlight the two most important points (rational method and empirical observation) and some of the consequences arising from this. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the search for a natural method and the taking of one’s own observations seriously were regularly argued on the basis of the excess of disparate and contradictory ‘book wisdom’. Descartes, for example, taught by the Jesuits, mentions ancient literature, languages, fables, histories, poetry, eloquence, mathematics, ethics, theology, law, medicine, and the occult sciences.62 Until then the knowledge was authorized, it was studied locally and transferred to the next generation within its own traditions. Through the printing press the existing knowledge was for the first time indiscriminately juxtaposed and offered for sale. With the Reformation, the ‘self-evident authority of Rome’ disappeared, and the explorative expeditions also contributed to the undermining of existing knowledge.63 In this sense the knowledge present in the sixteenth century is as confusing and chaotic as the proliferation of visual forms at the time (4.2.2.).64 The despair echoed by Descartes and Montaigne, and expressed by Ramus and Huygens' critique of meaningless knowledge, rests on the realization that the available knowledge is abundant, disorganized, and of uneven quality. ‘What is to be considered true knowledge?’ and ‘What do I know myself?’ are the pressing questions that occupy them. 65 Or in the words of Huygens ‘... aan algemene, opgedirkte en schoonschijnende termen, waarmee de scholen, zoals vast staat, hun onkunde bemantelen, heb ik nooit waarde gehecht. Ik heb de 17 vrijheid genomen overal rond te zwerven en alles te onderzoeken en nooit heb ik zoo gezworen bij de woorden van PLATO of ARISTOTELES, of ik was steeds onmiddellijk bereid de tegenspraak van ieder uit de allerlaatste tijd te aanvaarden, mits ze berustte op proefondervindelijke waarheid.’ [I have never attached any value to general, embellished, and beautiful terms, with which the schools, as is certain, cloak their ignorance. I have taken the liberty of wandering everywhere and of investigating everything, and never have I sworn so much by the words of PLATO or ARISTOTELES, or I have always been ready to accept immediately the contradiction of each one of the very last, provided it was based on experimental truth].66 These early modern scholars are open to all knowledge that presents itself. ‘The new scholars combined the passion for collecting the least fragment of wisdom and the encyclopedic compulsion to re-assemble the totality of knowledge, with a taste for rare words, borrowings from the classical languages, ostentatious quotations, mythological allusions and anecdotes where legend had the better of history’.67 The search for good methods of collecting, organizing and sifting knowledge dominated many, although there was no question of searching for modern classifications. ‘Sixteenth-century scholars were not concerned to draw clear boundaries between the past and the present, reality and fantasy, the arts and sciences, because in their time these categories weren’t firmly established, nor yet deemed the necessary prerequisite of meaning’.68 In doing so, various ancient ways of ordering (such as Alberti and Van Mander’s use of classical rhetoric, Cats as well as Van Hoogstraten using the nine Muses) or new methods are invented (e.g. the compendia or encyclopedias that function as ‘search engines’ in various fields).69 Francis Yates considered the blossoming of occultism and the renewed interest in Neoplatonism to be just as much an order-creating intervention.70 In other words, in the sixteenth century different rational knowledge systems coexist. However, the boundaries between disciplines are less sharp than they are today. 71 So, it seems more accurate to say that Descartes and Spinoza, but also Huygens and Stevin, stripped the Aristotelian natural philosophy of certain authoritarian, scholastic Christian interpretations from the Middle Ages.72 This generated new possibilities, but also new boundaries and new uncertainties. Two components of Aristotelian thinking are now placed more in the foreground than before, the rational method and the empirical observation. As a result, both components are also experiencing a transformation. This flexibility, according to Schmitt, is characteristic of the Aristotelian tradition, which may also explain why this thinking has been able to persist for so long in Europe. ‘In short, Aristotelianism, in its more progressive form at least, provided both a link with the past (and this was certainly still important for many people in seventeenth century) and an openness towards the present’.73 The goal was still the acquisition of knowledge of Nature, but in the end, it brings a turn in the nature of that knowledge. 74 The first component concerns the 18 certain, mathematical argumentative method. 75 The introduction of the Euclidean, geometric demonstration at the end of the sixteenth century (the famous ‘more geometrico’), although a new element in natural philosophy, remains within this framework of thought. Dear points out that the new, highly valued mathematical science remained based on the natural philosophical foundation and that only another argument was mentioned. ‘This new evaluation was justified by arguments that relied on Aristotelian commonplaces – as was the earlier, and opposite, evaluation that held physics superior to mathematics on account of its superior subject matter. The view that physics was more important than the mathematical sciences depended on the Aristotelian observation that it concerned the nature of things rather than merely their quantitative characteristics and was therefore more noble. The inverted view, by contrast, depended on the Aristotelian position that the highest form of knowledge, scientia (epistémé in Greek), demanded certain demonstration, at the provision of which the mathematical sciences were uncontroversially acknowledged to be supreme’.76 As far as mathematics had played a role in natural philosophy until then, it mainly brought practical knowledge with occult connotations. The praise of the usefulness of mathematics for public affairs, which mathematical writings often begin with in this period, serves primarily a rhetorical purpose. They want to convince the reader that it is about certain knowledge: scientia or (in Stevin’s term ‘wis-const’).77 In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries mathematics developed primarily outside of natural philosophy, in areas such as navigation and cartography.78 There were even two areas in which mathematics and natural philosophy were diametrically opposed: the study of heaven and magnetism. As a motive to introduce mathematics into natural philosophy, scholars (including Stevin) mention that this makes up for an omission of Aristotle. He had failed to make his method explicit.79 The mathematical method means that the matter under investigation is classified in an orderly way, the evidence is derived from already proven theorems, in order to finally arrive at true knowledge with certainty. This method is also preferred by Descartes and Spinoza. Thus, ‘more geometric’ represents a general model for working ‘clearly and distinctively,’ for ‘thinking in an orderly way,’ for ‘following a certain, sure path,’ and thus obtaining ‘clear and certain reasoning’.80 In this way one organizes a ‘general overview’ in which all knowledge is stored.81 With the help of this mathematical method, Nature can be examined step by step and mapped out in a well-organized manner. The second component takes the form of the ‘proefondervindelijk’ experiment [experiential proof]. Simon Stevin is not the only one who combines observing natural phenomena and finding the causes with a rational method. The need to gather new experiences, to make many observations and to experiment are three issues that are raised by Simon Stevin, René Descartes, Francis Bacon (15611626) and later by Christiaan Huygens (1629-1695) and Anthonie van 19 Leeuwenhoek (1632-1723), however much their opinions about the true attitude on these three points may sometimes differ. 82 Descartes, of whom in philosophy (but also in art history)83 his ‘I think, therefore I am’-adage84 is primarily known, for example, regularly points to the importance of the experience of natural phenomena as a starting point for examining Nature. He considers travel (and history) eminently suitable for this purpose: ‘Het omgaan met mensen uit een andere tijd is immers zeer wel te vergelijken met het maken van reizen: het is goed om iets te weten over de zeden en gewoonten van verschillende volkeren. Men krijgt daardoor een betere kijk op die van ons en voorkomt daarmee, alles wat anders is dan bij ons, belachelijk en dom te vinden, zoals mensen die nooit iets anders gezien hebben’ [After all, dealing with people from a different era can very well be compared to travelling: it is good to know something about the morals and customs of different peoples. This gives people a better view of ours and prevents them from finding anything that is different from ours ridiculous and stupid, like people who have never seen anything else].85 He replaces book wisdom and unfruitful speculation based on abstract concepts with observation. Het leek mij namelijk dat ik meer kans zou hebben waarheid aan te treffen in wat mensen bedenken aangaande datgene wat voor hen van belang is, en waarbij spoedig – en soms tot hun ongeluk – blijkt of ze het bij het rechte eind gehad hebben, dan in de gedachten die een boekengeleerde zich in zijn studeerkamer vormt, betreffende allerlei abstracte zaken die tot geen feitelijk gevolg leiden, of het zou moeten zijn dat hij nog ijdeler wordt, omdat, naarmate zijn denkbeelden verder afstaan van het gezonde verstand, meer scherpzinnigheid en meer kunststukjes vereist zijn om ze waarschijnlijk te maken. (...) Ik geef toe dat ik, zolang ik mij beperkte tot het waarnemen van de gewoontes van anderen, nauwelijks enig houvast kreeg doordat ik daarin even grote verschillen aantrof als eerder onder de meningen der filosofen. Het grootste profijt dat ik ervan had, was dus dat ik, door met allerlei zaken kennis te maken die, ofschoon voor ons buitensporig en belachelijk, niettemin algemeen goedgekeurd en geaccepteerd worden door andere volkeren, leerde om niet al te vast te geloven in wat mij door gewoonte en door voorbeeld vertrouwd was geworden. Zo wist ik mij langzamerhand te ontdoen van de vele misvattingen, waardoor ons natuurlijk oordeelsvermogen verduisterd wordt en wij minder goed in staat zijn de rede te volgen.86 [For it seemed to me that I would have a better chance of finding truth in what people think about what is important to them, and which soon - and sometimes to their misfortune proves them to be right, than in the thoughts which a book scholar forms in his study, concerning all kinds of abstract matters which lead to no factual result, or it should be that he becomes even more vain, because the further his ideas are removed from common sense, the more perspicacity and more artifice are required to make them probable. (...) I confess that as long as I confined myself to observing the customs of others, I scarcely obtained any guidance, finding as great a difference in them as I had previously found among the opinions of philosophers. The greatest benefit I derived from it, therefore, was that by 20 becoming acquainted with all sorts of things which, although excessive and ridiculous for us, are nevertheless generally approved of and accepted by other peoples, I learned not to believe too firmly in what had become familiar to me through habit and example. In this way I gradually got rid of the many misconceptions which cloud our natural judgment and make us less able to follow reason]. Secondly, like Stevin, Descartes appeals to the public to inform him of what they have observed and of the experiments they have carried out. ‘Ook was het mijn bedoeling het profijt dat het publiek ervan kan hebben zo duidelijk te laten zien, dat al diegenen die in het algemeen het welzijn der mensen aan het hart gaat, dat wil zeggen al diegenen die oprecht deugdzaam zijn en niet slechts doen alsof of de deugd alleen in gedachten beoefenen, zich daardoor verplicht zouden voelen, zowel om mij de experimenten mede te delen die zij al gedaan hebben, als om mij te helpen bij het onderzoek dat nog gedaan moet worden’ [It was also my intention to show so clearly the benefit that the public might derive from it, that all those in general who have the welfare of mankind at heart, that is, all those who are sincerely virtuous and not merely pretending or practicing virtue only in thought, would thereby feel obliged both to communicate to me the experiments they have already made, and to assist me in the research yet to be done]. For, he believes, ‘aangezien veel mensen meer te weten kunnen komen dan één, zouden zij mij ook, door zich reeds nu van dezelfde uitgangspunten te bedienen met hun bevindingen kunnen helpen’ [since many people can find out more than one, they could also, by using the same principles already now, help me with their findings].87 As for the third point of experiential proof it can be noted that it is not new either. All three are elements that are either explicitly or implicitly present in Aristotelian scholasticism and in medieval academic practice. The innovation lies particularly in the altered role these three elements came to play in knowledge production. ‘What has changed were the characterizations that many philosophers, especially practitioners of the classical mathematical sciences (such as astronomy, mechanics, and optics), had begun to give of their mutual relationships’, according Dear.88 Thus, it was not so much the experiment itself that was an innovation – that is mainly a modern association 89 – as the explanatory value that observing an event was assigned in the study of Nature. ‘An “experience” in the Aristotelian sense was a statement of how things happen in nature, rather than a statement of how something had happened on a particular occasion: the physical world was a concatenation of established but sometimes wayward rules, not a logical integrated puzzle. But the experimental performance, the kind of experience upheld as the norm in modern scientific practice, is unlike its Aristotelian counterpart; it is usually sanctioned by reports of historically specific 21 events. While events sometimes found their place in premodern natural philosophy, they did not serve the same function’.90 When a debate about the status of experimentation arose in the seventeenth century, it also had to do with a long-standing tradition in which the use of mechanical findings was widespread. Such as at courtly feasts and parties, in gardens or theaters, and with ‘blijde inkomsten’ [rejoicing entries] in towns, such as that of Maria de Medici in Amsterdam. Testimonies of this can be found everywhere in early modern times: at the court of the Lutheran King Christiaan IV in Copenhagen, the imperial court of Rudolf II in Prague, or the Spanish Escoriael of Phillips II. But also at the English court, the Milanese court of the Sforza’s, that of Frans I in Paris and even that of the Dutch stadtholders.91 These findings are praised as ‘wonderen der natuur’ [marvels of nature] or vilified as sorcery and magical practice. The latter was the case with Cornelis Drebbel (1572-1633). For example, he demonstrated a submarine in the Thames in front of the English king and his retinue and designed numerous other amusing items (including a ‘perpetuum mobile’). Contrary to what one might think, his technically ingenious research activities differ little or not at all from those of ‘vernuftelingen’ [geniuses] such as Stevin (who made a ‘zeilwagen’ [sand or land yacht, wind chariot]) or Da Vinci (who invented an airplane). 92 Da Vinci must have produced an estimated 16,000 sheets of text and drawing ‘describing the incredible and fantastic findings and projects’. In Florence and at the Milanese court he had studied the mechanical workings of devices and machines, invented military devices as well as entertaining instruments that played a role in festivities. 93 All of them ‘met behulp van de meest verborgen kundigheden wonderbare proefnemingen [hebben] verricht op het gebied der mechanica’ [have with the aid of the most hidden skills carried out miraculous experiments in the field of mechanics], according to Huygens who defends Drebbel against accusations.94 As Dear, Eamon, and other historians of science have recently emphasized, in this new status of the ‘experiment,’ the conceptual shift that in later times has been called ‘the Scientific Revolution, is taking shape – in a compressed form. ‘In order to understand the new practices of experimentation that became established in the seventeenth century we must learn to ascribe meanings in correct seventeenth-century ways to what appear to us as experimental actions. Only then will we have a firm grasp of those events which constitute the historical episode in question. First of all, it is necessary to recognize that there is nothing self-evident about experimental procedures in the study of nature. There is no independently given class of practices that naturally corresponds to the label “scientific experimentation”; there are many different practices, with their associated 22 epistemological characterizations, that relate to experience and its place in the creation of natural knowledge’.95 One cannot limit the transformation of knowledge in the seventeenth century to the question of rationality. There is also a change in the status of ‘ambachtelijke kennis’ [artisanal knowledge] and ‘techniques’, a change that should be seen in conjunction with the foregoing. ‘This new epistemology emphasized practice and the active accumulation of experience and observation of nature. This emphasis ran counter to ancient views that certain knowledge lay in theoria or scientia which could be proved by demonstration in the form of the syllogism. Practical knowledge could never be certain because it could not be proved by demonstration founded on certain principles. It could, however, be used as the basis for action if it were built up from experiences or particular facts. Practical knowledge pertained only to the particular (not the general, which was the basis of theory) and was obtained by (often fallible) sensory perception’.96 The place accorded to practical knowledge changed, as can be seen from its prominent place in the various early modern arts. From the end of the fifteenth century onwards, printed matter appeared in which technical knowledge about various natural processes was published in the form of meticulous descriptions and drawings.97 With the increased status of handicraft and artisanal skills, new types of practitioners appear, such as the ‘artisan-engineer’ and the ‘skilled technologist’,98 the practicing physician and the experimenting scholar.99 ‘Ik geef toe dat’ [I admit], writes for example Descartes, ‘als het om de noodzakelijke experimenten en het onderzoek van de feiten gaat, men er niet in zou slagen dit alles alleen te doen; maar evenmin zou men met zoveel profijt, andere dan zijn eigen handen kunnen gebruiken, tenzij wanneer men met vaklieden te maken heeft, of met andere mensen die men kan betalen en die in het vooruitzicht van de beloning (dat een zeer werkzaam middel is), in staat en bereid zouden zijn precies alles te doen wat men hen opdraagt’ [that when it comes to the necessary experiments and the examination of the facts, one would not succeed in doing all this on one’ own; but neither would one be able to use so much profit, other than one’s own hands, except when one is dealing with craftsmen, or with other people who one can pay and who, in the prospect of the reward (which is a very effective means), would be able and willing to do exactly what one commands them to do].100 These new types of practitioners build to a large extent on existing artisanal knowledge, which is now being put more to the fore. 101 ‘Interest in practice and the mechanical arts had a particular influence in the pursuit of knowledge about nature; it culminated in the seventeenth century in a complete reorganization of knowledge by which practice and its effectiveness in bringing about a “product” would in fact prove theory’.102 Various scholars such as Vives, Ramus, Beeckman, Paracelsus, Descartes, Bacon and Stevin are known to advocate the acquisition of artisanal insights in order to bring together concrete knowledge of 23 Nature. For example, by visiting workshops and talking to artisans, as Stevin also describes:103 Tis ghebeurt dat ick van eerdewercken, rijswercken, timmering, metsing (en dierhelijcke daer inde Huysbou breeder afgheseyt sal worden) meer behoufde te weten dan ick deur boucken of Wisconstenaers leeren conde: Hier toe verstrecken my de werckluyden elck in haer constvoor beste meesters: maer om in mijn leering goede voortganck te crijghen, ick volghde de Wysentijts oirden, vraghende vooral den Eerdewerckers in eerdewercken, Rijswerckers in rijsercken, Timmerlien in timmering &c. na de beteyckening van haer eygen woorden die ick my noodich bevant, en niet verstont, welcke ick als bepalinghen oirdentlick opgheeyckent hebbende, en die van buyten gheleert, ick sprack terstont met hun soo datse my verstonden, en ick hemlien, al hadde ick langhe tijt met die handtwercken omghegaan, gherochtalsoo met lichticheyt tot kennis van t’ghene anders veel langer tijt soude behouft hebben.104 [It has happened that of earthworks, woodwork, carpentry, masonry (and the like which will be spoken of more fully in Housebuilding) I needed more knowledge than I could learn by books or Mathematicians: For this purpose the workmen are each in her art the best masters: but in order to obtain good progress in my study, I follow the order of the Age of Wisdom, whereby I ask the groundworkers about the groundwork, the woodworkers about the woodwork, the carpenters about the carpentering and so on. After I had orderly noted the meaning of their words which were necessary, but which I did not understand at first, and had learned them by heart, I was able to speak to them so that they understood me and I them, as if I had practiced these handicrafts for a long time, and I thus easily came to a knowledge of what would otherwise have taken much longer]. For example by collecting large quantities of observations, to which Bacon, Stevin and Descartes invite everyone in their writings.105 For example by teaching and writing not in Latin, but in one’s own vernacular.106 ‘The new ideas, in Bacon words, would come out “by a connexion and transferring of the observations of one Arte, to the uses of another, when the experience of several ministries shall fall under consideration of one mans minde”’.107 The accumulated knowledge of instruments, apparatus, tools, and machines came into being in the centuries before that. Some devices were designed to relieve labor – both in peace (such as the mechanical spinning wheel) and in war (all kinds of military equipment). Other mechanisms came no further than the paper on which they were invented. The work of Da Vinci shows many examples of this. Technical findings appear in large numbers throughout the early modern period. But while the technical findings of the centuries before that were often related to the increase in trade and traffic (from the 11th century onwards) or to labor-intensive manufactories (from the 13th century onwards), the flow of mechanical findings, optical devices and other instruments from the fifteenth century onwards cannot be linked exclusively to an economic change. 108 The 24 explorative expeditions, especially the practical art of navigation, also generated a new demand for meticulous instruments.109 But making machines and equipment had another background at the time: it was part of the antique legacy. For example, Vitruvius includes in his architectural treatise two chapters on mechanical engineering in which he arranges the basic principles of machines (bp.5.3). The discussed mechanisms vary from timepieces and sun clocks to a climbing machine, air pressure machine and pulling machine, all of Greek origin. He also mentions hoisting machines, mechanical parts of cart and wagon, scales, mill, water shovel machine, paddle wheel, water pump, water organ, mile counter, as well as catapult, throwing machine and other siege tools. Vitruvius considers all of these mechanisms to be products of Nature. He does make, however, a distinction between machine (lots of mechanics, little manpower) and tool (little mechanics, lots of manpower). ‘Elk mechaniek is evenwel door de natuur voortgebracht en is ons door de omwenteling van het heelal waarop het is gebaseerd voorgedaan en geleerd’ [Every mechanical device, however, has been brought forth by nature and has been taught and demonstrated to us by the rotation of the universe upon which it is based].110 They all obey natural principles. Only those who know these principles, describe, and draw them accurately, and follow the rules scrupulously, can bring levers, gears, pulleys, blades, and shafts together into an ingenious and smart working system.111 From the twelfth century onwards, the study of the Greek corpus was renewed. ‘Arranged in neat compartments, it was presented in elegant, rational, and sophisticated fashion, and it contained an enormous amount of factual information about the natural world as well as highly developed methods of investigating that world’.112 From that moment on, the mechanical instrument will be used to investigate Nature. The attention to the working of the eye as recorded in the many writings on optics dates from the same period (bp.5.2.1-4).113 ‘Natural science is not simply receiving what one is told, but the investigation of causes of natural phenomena’ stated Albertus Magnus in Paris at the beginning of the thirteenth century. 114 At the same time, the medical schools of Salerno and Bologna are beginning to open up corpses and examine the medicinal properties of substances, while observations are also beginning to be made in related fields such as alchemy and astrology.115 ‘Finding’ a precise and accurate working mechanism thus becomes a goal of the technique. Many of the sixteenth-century instrument makers have also (or mainly) become known as practicing mathematicians.116 After all, in Nature, the mechanics are already present. ‘The fifteenth and sixteenth centuries saw the addition of new sundials, new types of universal astrolabe, the astronomer’s rings of Gemma Frisius, new designs of observatory instruments, the nocturnal, the cross-staff in forms appropriate to navigation and surveying, the back-staff, the mariner’s astrolabe, the simple and altazimuth theodolites, a number of universal designs of surveying instruments, the sector as an instrument for surveying and 25 calculating, the circumferentor, the plane table, the graphometer, and so on. The instrument had become centrally identified with practical mathematics, and its development was evidence of the vigor and confidence of the mathematical programme’.117 It is up to the one (the ‘artisanal practitioner’) who has the practical knowledge (the ‘art’) to let the natural potential of the substance do its work (in ‘work of art’ or ‘artefact’). ‘In erecting a machine (...) not only visual but also tactile and muscular knowledge are incorporated into the machine by the mechanics and others who use tools and skills and judgement to give life to the visions of engineers’.118 These artes mechanicae, which until the early modern period brought together the artisanal arts (such as weapon making, navigation, agriculture, etc.), also include the art of painting and the art of building.119 The mechanical arts, which know the secrets of the natural world, merge into the study of Nature (bp.5.4.1-2, bp.5.6.1-2, bp.5.7).120 The ‘laboratory’ (also known as the elaboratory) – a word that emerged at the end of the sixteenth century in the context of writings on (al)chemistry – was used more often in the seventeenth century. 121 It is a specially equipped and public place, from the second half of the seventeenth century onwards standardly equipped with a stove where the new, experimenting science takes place and confirms its status (bp.5). 122 ‘The appearance of the laboratory is indicative of a new mode of scientific inquiry, one that involves the observation and manipulation of nature by means of specialized instruments, techniques, and apparatuses that require manual skills as well as conceptual knowledge for their construction and deployment’.123 The laboratory is located not only at the court (Tycho Brahe in Uraniënburg, Denmark), but also in the burgher’s house.124 The laboratories of Boyle (England),125 Dele Böe (Netherlands) and Andreas Libavius (Germany) are well known.126 The physician Sylvius Francisco partly Böe owned a number of laboratories in his building on the Rapenburg in Leiden, consisting of ‘a distilling room, containing telescopes, furnaces, and a large amount of glassware; and two laboratories with seventeen large and small furnaces, as well as bellows, pots, mortars and pestles, and other chemical instruments’.127 Smith points out that Dele Boë was dedicated to making Leiden University the first medical faculty in Europe to have a chemical laboratory in 1669.128 In the ‘Chemical House’ of Libavius the workshop was assigned a place in the house. The ‘chemist,’ the ‘experimenting scholar,’ and the ‘practicing physician’ derive their honor from their professional skills (analogous to the painter with Van Hoogstraten) 129 and must behave as dignified burghers (in the sense of Cats).130 In the words of Andreas Libavius (died 1616) he bases himself on work by Tycho Brahe and on Vitruvius: We do not want the chemist to neglect the exercises of piety or exempt himself from the other duties of an upright life, simply pinning away amidst his dark furnaces. Rather we want him to 26 cultivate humanitas in a civil society and to bring luster to his profession by an upright household, so that he may strive for every virtue and be able to assist with his friends as an aid and counsel to his country. Thus we are not going to devise for him just a chymeion or laboratory to use as a private study and hideaway in order that his practice will be more distinguished than anyone else’s; but rather, what we shall provide for him a dwelling suitable for decorous participation in society and living the life of a free man, together with all the appurtenances necessary for such an existence. Thus in addition to his country estates, let him have a house in town and live in a body politic of strictest piety which cherishes the laws.131 Simultaneously, a transformation of the medieval workshop is taking place in which the secret knowledge that was passed from master to pupil (hidden from view) is made visible (bp.5.11.1-3).132 And in parallel, the skilled practitioner splits into two new figures and a new hierarchy emerges, replacing the old division.133 In the art of healing, for example, there used to be a distinction between university physicians (who based their knowledge on books and did not perform operations), surgeons (the craftsmen who had the skill to open parts of the (living) body) and pharmacists (who had knowledge of the substances and prepare medicines).134 A distinction that took on an entirely different form in the course of the seventeenth century. 135 On the one hand there is the experimenting and practicing scholar (operating physician, the chemist separating substances, experimental philosopher) who thus generates knowledge about Nature.136 On the other hand the ‘technician’, who ‘had skill but lacked the qualifications to make knowledge’.137 The scientific thinking of European culture in the early modern period was recently described by Floris Cohen in his work The Scientific Revolution as the ‘universe of precision’. This description is not intended as a blueprint and does not apply to the whole of Europe. Cohen uses it to indicate the special color that the different regions of the European continent have given to Greek thought. This distinguishes Europe from, for example, the Arab world, which inherited the same legacy. ‘In structural terms, we have here the same constellation of science as had obtained in the Muslim world: the adoption of the Greek legacy, its modest enrichment inside an overall framework left intact, and the aggregate thus produced being complemented by some civilization-specific pursuits of its own making’.138 The transmission of this antique knowledge from the Arab world, which began in the twelfth century, brought about a renewal of thought in Europe for many reasons. ‘The Greek corpus, on being transplanted to western Europe, acquired around it an intellectual environment made up of many different strands. No coherent pattern kept them together; none of them was wholly original qua intellectual content; still, something novel colored it all’. The points that Cohen then mentions to indicate the state of science at that time are very similar to what I 27 – albeit for very different domains of knowledge – have found in the preceding chapters on the arts. Accurate observation of natural phenomena, investment of mathematical knowledge, high appreciation of manual skills and a classical principle of efficacy are the cornerstones of the conceptual universe that unfolds in the seventeenth century. 139 Cohen’s answer to the question of why this transformation of natural philosophy was able to take place in early modern Europe and became widely accepted can now be further refined. 140 All in all, we can see that classical knowing operated in seventeenth-century Europe through two approaches. On the one hand, through the comprehensive and long-lasting influence of Aristotelian natural philosophy on the thinking of writers and scholars. On the other hand, through the humble skills with which craftsmen and machine builders managed to unlock Nature’s secrets. Only one thing was needed to bring about a new type of knowledge: a way in which theoretical knowledge and practical skill evoke each other. In the seventeenth century this role will be fulfilled by the visual artefact. The ‘universe of precision’ that crystallized in the course of the seventeenth century is based, among other things, on the certainty (and the degree of uncertainty that becomes permissible) that one is going to attribute to visual knowledge. In this respect, Europe can boast a long and tumultuous history, as the previous chapters already have shown. The following section will deal with this issue. 28 5.1.2. Visual Knowledge Maar, zoals ook kunstschilders in een vlak schilderij niet alle kanten van een voorwerp even goed kunnen afbeelden, en er slechts één van de belangrijkste uitkiezen waarop zij het licht laten vallen – de andere kanten laten zij in de schaduw zodat ze hooguit zijdelings aan bod komen -; zo ook vreesde ik niet alles te kunnen zeggen wat ik wilde, en besloot om alleen tamelijk uitvoerig uiteen te zetten wat ik dacht over het licht. René Descartes, Over de methode (1637), p. 79. [But, just as painters in a flat painting cannot depict all the sides of an object equally well, and choose only one of the most important ones on which to let the light fall - leaving the other sides in shadow so that they are at most considered sideways -; so too I feared not being able to say everything I wanted to, and decided only to set out at fairly length what I thought about light]. ... invoegen dat het selve sal konnen dienen d’onwetende tot onderwijsinge, de wijse tot onderhoudt, de kinderen tot leere, de jongelingen tot breydels, den ouderdom tot vermaeck, en alle menschen in ‘t gemeen tot een SPIEGEL der Waerheydt. Jacob Cats, Voor-reden, Spiegel van den Ouden en Nieuwen Tyt. Van nieuws oversien, vermeerdert en verbetert. Elk spiegle hem selven, ADW I. p. 482. [... so that this work may serve the ignorant for instruction , the wise for thought, the children for learning, the young for discipline, old age for joy, and all men in general for a MIRROR of the Truth]. Dear and other historians of science emphasize that there was a change in attitude in seventeenth-century Europe. The experiment indicates that the perception of the world is renewing itself. 141 Findings should be seen as crucial mediators in the transfer of the new knowledge. This different way of observing is a consequence of the fact that in the seventeenth century other conceptual categories were used. ‘In that sense, the Scientific Revolution was indeed a matter of a cognitive shift rather than the simple acquisition of new information that demanded new theoretical frameworks to accommodate it’.142 According to the historians of science, the shift from natural philosophy to scientific thinking therefore finds its cause in a different appreciation of perception. 143 ‘Even with novel deployments of apparatus and technique to bring about hitherto unknown behaviors, no knowledge can be created unless those new human practices and new natural appearances are rendered conceptually in an appropriate way. Indeed, even to identify a technical practice as new rather than as an unimportant variant upon an old practice, or to identify the resultant appearance as new kinds of natural phenomena rather than variants of previously known ones – or pathological 29 instances – requires particular conceptual and cognitive expectations on the part of the knower’.144 Elsewhere, similar processes are observed. For example, art historians speak of a ‘perceptual revolution’ at the end of the sixteenth century. 145 This refers to the upgrading of the ‘examining’ eye (bp.5.2, bp.5.15).146 The enhancement of sensory perception is explained by the rise of a new, highly educated elite that seeks to elevate its own status by attributing significant meaning to the image. ‘In truth, as the Renaissance matured, the evolving post feudal upper classes of western Europe began to think they ought to know something of the mechanical arts. Not that nouveau riche aristocrats should actually indulge in the manual trades, but their new sense of noblesse oblige (reinforced by the Christian belief that everyone, especially the privileged elite, was responsible for overseeing God’s natural law) demanded an understanding of how things in the psychical world work’, says Edgerton.147 Zwijnenberg in turn emphasizes that philosophers, artists, architects and engineers considered the image (the drawing, in particular the mathematical diagram) to be the means par excellence to recreate the world created by God according to the same rules. ‘We must design an image of the created world through an infinite series of conjectures about its essence; the created world offers us the building material to make a world of our own’.148 Thus Zwijnenberg gives drawing a separate place in ‘the process of transmitting knowledge’. He starts from an ‘intellectual process of the engineer’, in which he links intellectuality to mathematics, measurability, rationality and the knowability of the divine creation.149 Eisenstein (1979), Giard (1991), Edgerton (1991), Zwijnenberg (1999) and others have pointed out that the image was given a crucial role in the development of the new épistème. But however much these authors emphasize that the image has contributed to the circulation and transmission of the new knowledge, they do not make clear what they understand by the early modern ‘scientificness’ of the image.150 They derive the certainty of ‘the image’, for instance, from the scientific perspective or of the mathematics applied to it,151 from the precise reproduction through the printing press (wood and copper engravings compared to manuscript culture),152 from the universal and direct accessibility of the image (compared to the literacy needed for texts), 153 from the correspondence between the visual information and the verbal message,154 from the fact that language alone began to fall short and images proved necessary to construct meanings, and so on. 155 The conclusion is, however, that the working, dissemination and circulation of new knowledge is enhanced by visualization. There is ‘a new “configuration” of knowledge, a new “episteme”’.156 Apart from the question whether perspective and mathematics at the time were understood as scientific matters (which proved to be debatable), 157 apart from the question whether ‘science’ and ‘technique’ simply involve the transfer of delimited chunks of information (which can be packaged in words, but also in 30 images or in a combination thereof), 158 apart from the question of whether the visual accuracy guaranteed by the printing press upon multiplication is the same as the immanent certainty that an image (as ‘scientific’ knowledge) could offer,159 apart from the question of whether images can accurately represent reality at all,160 – apart from all that it is striking that the images themselves are seldom examined, let alone that ‘the early modern image’ in a broad sense is addressed. The various historians who comment on the contribution of the image to the early modern transmission of knowledge usually adhere to the limits of the current division into academic disciplines. Those engaged in historical research on the scientific role of woodcuts or copper engravings in medicine, astrology, or alchemy are not likely to delve into art historical research on oil paintings, frescoes, illuminations, or drawings – and vice versa. Most references to the much wider range of early modern imagery often remain anecdotal and conform to current views. Let me therefore approach the issue in this section from the other side. During early modernity, the image is recognized as representing a knowing that is certain. The question then is: what role did images play in the knowledge system of the time? Why did the image offer specific certainties in the early modern era? How can visual knowledge be defined? In the following, I will discuss a number of relevant points, conceiving of the picture in a broad sense: as a visual spectrum characteristic of the entire early modern period that includes not only painted tableaux, sketches, and drawings, but also engravings and emblems, as well as various types of architectural drawings, mathematical diagrams, celestial depictions, and technical inventions (bp.5.12, bp.5.13, bp.5.14). René Descartes argues that Divine rationality manifests itself in Nature. She can be demonstrated in a geometric diagram. Although Descartes is known primarily as a representative of the new rationalist philosophy, historians of science point out that Descartes takes a theological-epistemological standpoint that goes back to Thomas Aquinas.161 ‘Descartes (...) described a world in which God had embedded necessary relations, some of which enable us to have a priori knowledge of substantial parts of the natural world. The capacity for a priori knowledge extends to the nature of matter, which, Descartes claimed to demonstrate, possesses only geometric properties’.162 The question is how one might consider his vision within a cultural-historical framework. In fact, what is the role of the visual elucidation in his considerations? As we know, Descartes wants to re-establish the status of knowledge in his explanation about the method. He turns away from the existing ‘book wisdom’ and the scholastic philosophy that underlies it. 163 His main criticism concerns the common method of arriving at the truth. By using the logical theory of argumentation164 (in which he particularly mentions the syllogism)165 and by using Latin (in which the old learned knowledge is stored),166 one only repeats 31 known truths, according to Descartes. It is even possible to generate from such reasoning ‘promises,’ ‘predictions,’ and ‘cunnings’ that are grounded in no knowledge of any kind. According to Descartes this is the case in the occult sciences.167 His attitude in this one resembles Stevin’, who criticized the suggestion of alchemists that it would be possible to make gold from certain substances. Stevin’s commentary does not focus on the secret properties of substances, mechanics, or numbers as such, which he (with Descartes) considers to be valuable gifts of Nature.168 The properties and deepest or first causes of substances must be known in order to be able to act practically. 169 What they both reject is alleged knowledge arising from the old way of arguing and the use of authorized truths. ‘I was going to believe,’ is Descartes’ conclusion, ‘that scholarship from books, at least that which uses only probable arguments and proves nothing because it is composed of the opinions of different people, cannot come as close to the truth as the simple reasoning that a man of reason naturally has about the things that happen’.170 In line with this, both Descartes and Stevin argue for the use of the vernacular in which the natural mind can find its own way.171 In Latin, reason would be too forced to follow worn out paths. Knowledge is not certain because others have thought it up before, says Descartes, nor because no one has thought it up, but because it has been thought according to the rules of reason.172 The method that takes its place is a coupling of reason (the common sense that everyone possesses by nature), 173 experience (that which we know by nature) 174 and sensory perception (in reality or dream). As we know, Descartes states that the senses do not offer a certain knowledge: the imagination that nose and ear, as well as the higher esteemed eye, bring to us are deceptive. 175 Yet this does not cover everything. Descartes understands the mental depictions as sensory operations of the natural properties of things.176 Some images are clear and distinct, others are not.177 But the knowledge contained in such sensory depictions is not certain. Thus, a sensory sensation may prove irrelevant even though one is awake (e.g. when one sees everything yellow because of jaundice). 178 Conversely, the mathematician can discover a truth in his dream that does not diminish because the discovery was made during sleep. 179 This uncertainty indicates that sensory perception is never certain. For example, even though we see the sun very clearly, we do not yet think that it is really as big as we perceive it; we can also have a very clear depiction of a lion’s head on a goat’s body, but that is no reason to conclude that chimeras actually exist. 180 In other words: Descartes’ issue is not so much that a sensory perception would be untrue.181 His point is that only the mind can decide whether the knowledge of a sensory perception is true or false. So only reason offers certainty. ‘Because whether we are awake or sleep, we must never be convinced by anything but reason’.182 A little further, he writes that ‘neither our imagination nor our senses could teach us anything with certainty without the intervention of 32 reason’.183 The mind must determine to what extent sensory perceptions bring true insights. ‘After all, reason certainly does not dictate that what we see or imagine is also reality. She does, however, prescribe that all our depictions and concepts must have some ground of truth: After all, it is impossible that God, who is completely perfect and true, would have laid them in us if it had not been so’.184 Descartes concludes, given these examples, that a distinction must be made between the images perceived by the senses. Because the senses leave man in the dark about the reality of a natural phenomenon (the sun showing itself in a small format) or a fictitious phenomenon (the mythological figure composed of various animals). The fact that Descartes invokes reason as an intermediary seems obvious in view of his reputation, but it is not. Reason does not give an absolute answer but is understood by Descartes as permanent reflection. A similar ambiguity regarding the knowledge that the eye can acquire through the image, and whose truth must always be established by contemplation through the mind, Alpers found with Constantine Huygens and Johan Kepler.185 But what is most remarkable is that this rational attitude of sifting images according to the truth they offer about the visible world, is only written down after order has been established in the visual depictions themselves. Descartes and other seventeenthcentury scholars stand at the end of the early modern process of setting a limit to the infinite power and possibilities previously attributed to visual depictions, which blindly accepted images as true depictions. Depictions of landscape and witches, chamber scapes and angels, human portrait, and devil, still life and monsters. With all its consequences, as it turned out, for relations between people and ‘societal unrest’ these ‘true representations’ generated in reality More generally, science should establish the relationships between things.186 Descartes here refers to the step-by-step geometric derivation. By the way, he rejects the rhetoric (which, in the same way as Stevin, he no longer understands as argumentation but as flowery eloquence) as a method.187 ‘Those long chains of derivations, so simple and easy, which geometricians usually use to arrive at their most difficult proofs, had led me to the idea that everything that a man can know is connected in the same way, and that, as long as one does not take anything for granted that it actually is not, and one always keeps the right order to deduce one thing from another, there can be nothing so far removed that one could not eventually reach it, or so hidden that one could not find it’.188 Nevertheless, for a cultural-historical reading of his work, two other aspects are also important. First, the way in which he uses the mind in the assessment of sensory perceptions and, second, the visual notation of certain knowledge. On method offers several examples of the way in which reason provides itself with certainty. A certain judgement is possible by orderly comparison of two depictions. In this treatise Descartes applies this working method mainly to the thinking itself and to the way in which a philosophical system must be built-up. 33 His argument consists of a series of remarkable examples: as it is in tearing down the house,189 composing a building by one architect, 190 tearing down all the houses of a town,191or rebuilding his house,192 so too Descartes intends to proceed in his philosophy.193 Just as a lost traveler provides himself security by systematically following one direction, so too one must continue the argumentation once started. ‘After all, that way they may not get where they want to be, but at least they will end up somewhere where they will probably always be better off than in the middle of the forest. (...) Because of this maxim now, I could immediately rid myself of all feelings of regret and remorse, overloading the consciences of weak and shaky minds whose actions are unsteady and based on opinions they first accept and then reject’.194 Thus, reason appears to work preferably with analogy and comparison.195 The example or the explicit metaphor as a basis of analogy – already a rhetorical stylistic tool for a long time and used, for example, by Erasmus and Cats – thus emerges with Descartes in a different context. 196 The second issue is related to this. Descartes touches briefly on the visual notation of certain knowledge in this treatise. He uses the analogy of a geometric figure to indicate how one can easily render different proportions in one whole. He writes literally: ‘Then I had to take into account that in order to know these proportions, I sometimes had to consider each one separately, but sometimes some at the same time. I came to the thought that I could best present them individually as lines, since I knew nothing that was simpler and more clearly conceivable; but that in order to remember them or to take some of them together, I had to express them with the help of a few symbols – as short as possible’.197 Thus the existence of God can be reasoned in the same way as the existence of geometric figures. ‘If, on the other hand, I looked again at the depiction I had of a perfect being, I found that its existence was locked up in the same way as in the depiction of a triangle in which its three angles are equal to two right angles, or in the depiction of a sphere in which all its parts are equally distant from its center. Yes, the depiction of this perfect being was even much clearer at this point. The certainty that God, who after all is that perfect being, is or exists, is therefore as great as that of any mathematical proof’.198 It is not only reason that gives us certainty with regard to certain insights, it also calls in the help of visual depictions. This visualization of knowledge had another effect. In the debate between philosophers and theologians, Descartes, with his visual condensation of knowledge, discredits theological truth about divine nature. This brought with it a long and complicated struggle between philosophers and theologians that continued in Holland well into the seventeenth century.199 In line with this, an explicit ‘Calvinistic’ aversion to the image later manifests itself. Calvin’s own criticism only concerned the depiction of God and biblical matters, not the image in general. He considered man’s innate talent to make images as a Divine gift. But from the moment that Descartes defines the image as a presentation of the true 34 knowledge of Nature, a fundamental distrust of the image as such may arise within Reformed theology. Only later does this distrust seem to become a matter of principle, namely in the fundamentalist rearrangement that took place in the nineteenth century. That Descartes’ resemblance to the above is not merely a rhetorical figure can be seen from the way in which he applies the visual diagrams in other writings. Simultaneously with the appearance of On method in 1637, Dioptrics appeared, which deals with the application of the method. Stansfield Eastwood (1984) examined the rhetoric in this writing and the place of geometric illustrations in it.200 In this work (which deals with the refraction of light rays) Descartes focuses on those who make lenses. Because these practitioners are illiterate craftsmen, he tries to express himself understandably to everyone, ‘and to omit nothing, not to assume anything that one might have learned from the other “sciences”’.201 Stansfield Easton then shows that Descartes introduces the reader to the subject in the most theoretical parts in two ways. On the one hand by treating the various movements of light (direct, reflected and refracted) through everyday analogies, for example through the movement of a ball, a stick or of wine in a perforated barrel. On the other hand, by using geometric diagrams (bp.5.8.1-6). This not only creates the impression that there is a resemblance between the visible reality and the geometric lines. Descartes explicitly links the two in his text. In fact, the use of analogies in word and image makes a further general theoretical explanation superfluous. ‘Rather than discussing incompressibility theoretically, he can refer to the blind man’s cane and say, “It is like this”’.202 Descartes uses his images to literally show the most important rules. ‘Descartes strategy, then, is to use images from common experience to construct analogies with light, to make these images and the analogies more precise by employing diagrammatic illustrations, and to use the diagrammed analogies in place of a full discussion of mechanical principles. Thus the formal analogy establishes a limited structural parallel, shutting off any importation of attributes beyond those explicitly allowed in the construction. Formal analogy shows the ways in which the compared objects are the same, and only the sameness is relevant to the discussion’. So on the one hand the image can be understood as a ‘carefully controlled, persuasive picture of how to describe the path of refracted light’,203 an image that can only be understood in a discursive context.204 On the other hand, Descartes shows that certain knowledge is based on reasonable comparison or analogy, which implies that the image is indeed supposed to be accurate on the points one compares. It thus offers visually certain knowledge. Certain knowledge and visual notation thus go hand in hand. By the way, Stevin and Cats had already preceded Descartes in this one. In Stevin’s case, ‘spiegelen’ [reflecting] leads to the discovery of the truth using a certain method.205 Cats also points out that an image, a verse, or an emblem should be used as a mirror. By now it will be clear that this is more than a 35 rhetorical strategy to illustrate abstract concepts with everyday depictions as one might think.206 With Cats, too, the comparison is based on reason. In those cases where Cats does not add an image, he calls on the reader to do so himself. Then, for example, he writes: ‘De Leser heeft sich hier in te beelden iemant die een anders pap wil komen blasen, maer van den selven wert verstooten, met byvoeginge van ‘t gene het bygevoegde vers seyt’ [The Reader must imagine here someone who wants to come and blow the porridge of another person, but who is chased away by him, and add to this what is said in the following verse].207 The truth in the emblem is not located: it is not in the image, nor in the words. Certain knowledge comes about in the work of reason in the face of the special imageword complexes.208 Descartes formulates its method at the end of a centuries-long tradition. In Europe, knowledge has until then been invested in generating and experimenting with images in various geographical regions and in various professional fields. All this resulted in a visual culture in which a variety of knowledge was bundled. At this point I would like to summarize my findings from Chapter 2 (on Simon Stevin), Chapter 3 (on Jacob Cats) and Chapter 4 (on Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten) with regard to the early modern image. The certain knowledge of the early modern age – the visual knowledge that is so prominent in Descartes’ work – is based on four forms of knowledge, each of which has its own genealogy, and which together characterize the visual culture of the time. First of all, it is based on an artisanal knowledge.209 On the one hand, this consists of an extensive reservoir of empirical insights in which the nature and properties of substances from Nature are collected. ‘For artisans, nature had an immediacy and primacy. The things of nature, not the words of books and disputations, constituted the certain scientia, which they came to know through an individual struggle with matter’.210 The image can be accurate because all the sensory qualities mentioned by Aristotle are vividly brought together on the flat plane. In this way the image meets the epistemological aspirations of the early modern age. It is therefore incorrect, as Van Berkel once formulated, that ‘aanschouwelijkheid’ (Anschaulichkeit, picturability) is typical only of Ramus, Beeckman, Descartes and mechanistic natural philosophy.211 On the other hand, manual skills are needed to be able to apply this natural knowledge in making images. The importance of artisanal skill and the exercise required for it are also recognized by Descartes. ‘Nor do I believe,’ he underlines, ‘that the fact that technicians may not immediately be able to carry out the finding set out in the Dioptrics may be a reason to believe that it is a bad finding; after all, since experience and skill are required to manufacture and adjust the tools I have described well, it would not surprise me any less if, in one day, just because they have been given a good score, someone would immediately succeed in becoming an excellent lute player’.212 ‘Imitation’ in the arts therefore presupposes an 36 enormous investment of knowledge in which both material properties and hand skills are combined. Things like a ‘vivid depiction’ or a ‘faithful representation’ are, in short, much more than a rhetorical figure in treatises on the arts. Following the visible world is based on physical skills as well as knowledge of Nature. Second, in addition to the oral and manual transmission of technical and artisanal knowledge from master to apprentice, new forms of knowledge transfer appear, a transfer that is initially (from the thirteenth century) visual.213 ‘Thus, even before the publication of the first printed books of mechanical technology – the 1472 treatise of Roberto Valturio – an impressive stock of mechanical knowledge, predominantly nonverbal, had been accumulated in engineers’ notebooks. That knowledge was readily portable across cultural, linguistic, and temporal barriers because it was pictorial, requiring few words to explain’.214 The well-known sketchbook of Villard de Honnecourt (c. 1230) is an early example of this visual, pictorial transmission of knowledge (bp.5.4.1). ‘Villard de Honnecourt had pioneered the combination of art and engineering, and of the transmission of technology by document in place of the age-old oral-and-manual tradition. The fifteenth-century artist-engineers carried out the revolution Villard had signaled, coincidentally just as printing arrived on the scene. Thus, technology passed almost overnight through two shifts of medium, first from oral to written and drawn, and second from manuscript to print’.215 Thirdly, in the early modern period, treatises appear on the arts as a discursive system of rules. From around 1400 onwards, this transfer of rules was formalized in discursive systems and the public status of ‘art’ becomes more prominent. This happens for example in the art of painting from Cennino Cennini’s Il Libro dell’Arte (ca. 1390). The new status of the image as a ‘true science of nature’, as Da Vinci put it, is just as much a part of this as the tracts of Alberti, Van Mander and Van Hoogstraten. Provided that the rules are described according to a coherent system, the image can offer a certain knowledge.216 A similar shift takes place in the treatises on the art of building, in which Alberti first formalizes the rules and in the tracts that follow, drawings and diagrams are added. Fourthly, an image or drawing – because it is embedded in a discursive system of rules – offers other possibilities. Precisely because the rules are diverse and relate to different things, a picture can link those rules in such a way that one not only understands them better, but also remembers them better. A visual depiction makes the effect of certain rules on each other clear at a single glance. An image condenses, concretizes, and shows the successively enumerated rules, according to Francesco de Giorgio Martini (ca. 1470): ‘Hence, when all the general and special rules have been given, it is necessary to draw some examples, through which the intellect may more easily judge and with greater certainty remember; because 37 examples affect the intellect more than general words, especially the intellect of those who are not very expert or learned’.217 Moreover, the image – precisely because it provides an overview of the rules formulated in words – can lead to results that were hardly imaginable beforehand. It are mainly the ‘artisan-engineers’ who emerged from this in the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. These are the ones who have the skill and knowledge to make images and experiment with them. In doing so, they use the image as an ars combinatoria par excellence, i.e. as a means ‘that sets the thought process in motion’ and through which ‘meanings are found’.218 ‘Engineers use thinking sketches to clarify visions in their minds’ eyes’, says Ferguson in response to drawings by Da Vinci. Given a particular issue, Da Vinci elaborates it in different directions (bp. 5.5.1, bp. 5.7.1-4).219 Also fitting in that context is the stream of compilations consisting largely of drawings of machines, devices, and instruments (bp.5.5.3. bp.5.6.1-3). ‘The number of technologists whose minds could be engaged by a particular problem or stimulated by a particular idea was greatly enlarged by the appearance of illustrated printed books. Two traditions of such books emerged. The first originated in the engineers’ notebooks of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries and was carried on in printed works such as the heavily illustrated machine books called “theaters of machines”. This tradition was simultaneously disruptive and progressive because it suggested new and novel ideas to anyone who could “read” the illustrations. The seeds of the explosive expansion of technology in the West lie in books such as these. The second tradition concentrated on existing technical processes, as in Georg Agricola’s classic 1556 study on mining and metallurgical processes. This tradition diffused established techniques but did not promote radical change’.220 Machine things are considered to be products of the natural order and thus an end in themselves. The engineer who invented these devices ‘was answering questions that had never been asked and solving problems that nobody but he (or perhaps another engineer) would have posed. There is no suggestion that economic forces induced those inventions. The machines were clearly ends, not means’.221 Thus, the image with all the properties attributed to it in early modern times is the final piece of the ‘universe of precision’. The image levels the distinction between the scholar and the artisan. Knowledge of Latin no longer discriminates between the two, but professional knowledge remains necessary.222 In this sense, the image discriminates between those who are and those who are not in possession of discursive, manual and craft knowledge. Incidentally, the transition from Latin to writing in one’s own vernacular led to an opposite trend. Existing systems within which knowledge naturally rotated were broken down, which certainly influenced the ways in which knowledge was generated. See in this context, for example, the fate of Stevin’s (for the most part written in Dutch) work in a European context 38 and the fame enjoyed by the few Latin and French translations. 223 This while his ‘wisconstige’ drawings are well known (bp.5.9.1-24). In a context in which great value is attached to artisanal knowledge and craftsmanship, a certain status is also attached to the handmade image. In the midseventeenth century, with the consolidation of the image as an instrument of knowledge, a centuries-long process in visual culture was accomplished. The new knowledge – generated by scholars using both head and hands in their experiments – was prepared for centuries by craftsmen and engineers, painters and architects. Descartes’ distrust of sensory perception is usually understood in literature as an expression of the crisis that the knowledge of the time experienced.224 But given the preceding history, this distrust flows only from the consensus that has now been reached about the impact of visual knowledge. The certainty offered by images based on Aristotelian natural philosophy was so profound that even fictional depictions became credible. This is also evident from the fear of devils and the persecution of witches in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries – after all, all beings known only from visual depictions. The strongest argument, however, is that the unreliability of sensory perception is presented precisely by painters.225 The many depictions of the senses produced in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries are not so much evidence of the epistemological crisis taking place,226 as confirmation of the high value attached to meticulous painting of the visible world. In other words, such paintings are more likely to prove that the status of visual knowledge is very high, rather than being questioned in painting and in the new philosophy of nature. Within philosophy, Descartes' philosophical system is usually understood as a sudden breakthrough to new knowledge that breaks with previous knowing.227 Viewed from the perspective of the cultural-historical development of the arts, however, it is clear that his work does not take place in a vacuum. His work, surrounded as it is by a culture that for centuries has invested in the artisanal struggle with the forces of nature, 228 in the discursive regulation of various arts, in technical inventions and in the generation of various types of images, is a product of those histories. Histories that were neither purposeful nor straightforward, mobilizing their own resistances over centuries of interactions.229 Protagonists from various backgrounds reflected on all that Nature had to offer, and in the early modern era they formulated the rules of the arts that were eventually written down in numerous tracts. One of the consequences of all this was the enormous blossoming of the visual arts. Pamela Smith recently concluded that in Holland the new experimenting scholars and painters could mirror each other in word and practice. 230 Both professions draw from artisanal knowledge that was highly valued,231 both practiced an art in which hand and eye had to work together, and in both cases that skill was connected to a discursive knowledge system of which the Aristotelian natural 39 philosophy was the foundation.232 The ‘proefondervindelijke experiment’ [experiential proof] – as a benchmark of the ‘scientific revolution’ – is only possible within a culture in which sensory perception has a high status. One should not understand the invention of the telescope and the microscope in the seventeenth century as an attempt to refine technical instruments in order to participate in scientific experiments.233 Through such devices, one does not ‘start to see better and better,’ as is the common interpretation.234 Rather, the reverse is true: the ‘invention’ of both optical precision instruments is done because observation and the image are considered in early modern culture to be the preeminent way of acquiring knowledge about the natural world.235 In this sense there is a link in Dutch visual culture between painting and architecture on the one hand, and the new experimental natural sciences that are largely developed outside the universities on the other. Just as in Italy there was a connection from which the artisan-oriented engineer emerged.236 A similar development is taking place in England. But there, on the initiative of researchers, an academy was founded on an empirical-philosophical basis, the later Royal Academy.237 In the seventeenth century, all kinds of exchanges took place between this institute and natural scientists like Christiaan Huygens (son of Constantijn Huygens) Reinier de Graaf student of Dele Boë) and painters (such as Samuel van Hoogstraten).238 France only shares this development to a certain extent. In Paris, visual culture is temporarily (during the reign of Louis XIII and Louis XIV) conceived as a means to glorify an absolutist sovereign and the centralized state.239 Baconian ideas found their way only with difficulty into the Académie des Science, founded by the monarch in 1666. This despite the strong claim that Christiaan Huygens (during the period 1666-1681 attached to this official French state institution) made on it. 240 ‘Although Jean Baptiste Colbert, the king’s minister concerned with French commercial development, actively promoted a project on “Description des arts et métiers”, the first chapter was not written until 1704, and it remained unpublished until midcentury’.241 In the end, only Diderot, who starts working on his Encyclopédie from 1740 will join this project again, using the 150 drawings by then completed. From the middle of the eighteenth century onwards, illustrated volumes were published and the images and drawings regained their status as representatives of visual knowledge. 242 Reflecting on Foucault, his description of the transformation from Renaissance to Classical Episteme in Les Mots et les Choses needs to be revised. Foucault makes a sharp distinction between the Renaissance ‘realm of resemblances’, where everything in Nature is conceived as a sign of never-ending references to a divine structure on the one hand, and the entirely linguistic taxonomy of individual signs in the Classical period on the other. But that break is too absolute.243 For instead of the rigid periodization of ‘Renaissance’ and ‘Enlightenment’, it is more appropriate to look at the whole of early modern period in the light of its 40 obsession with the image. In the long duration of the early modern era, the ‘medieval’ resemblance lives on, perhaps more vital than before, but without any reference to the eternal harmony of micro and macro cosmos. The image, skillfully made, is precise and discrete, reproducible, and universally accessible to those who know the rules of art. As neatly arranged and well-ordered knowledge it offers itself for comparison and in this sense, it represents all (real, imaginary but also fictitious) forms that can occur in nature. But at the same time the image evokes all possible modalities of perception. Moreover, it presupposes a discursive embedding. Together, this word-image-complex underpins the early modern knowledge system. The question of what is to be understood by Enlightenment in this context, whether the advance of ‘reason’ already started with Descartes at the beginning of the seventeenth century, or whether it occurred when the threshold of formalization was crossed with Newton'’ Principia (1687), or only takes place in France from the second half of the eighteenth century onwards, is a question that is not so much difficult to answer as incorrectly formulated.244 If we keep Cohen’s ‘universe of precision'’ in mind and take the image in the sense just described, this might explain why the ‘natural sciences’ did not develop in the Arab world, but in Europe. Both cultures were in fact heirs to the same Greek knowledge but took a different attitude towards the image. 245 In any case, it is conceivable that the religious attitudes with regard to the image influenced the further unfolding of the Greek-antique legacy.246 Arab culture denied itself the use of images of living beings on principle. In Europe, despite (or thanks to) the regularly recurring iconoclasm, there was an intensive exchange and fusion of antique and Christian visual cultures. In this respect, the influence of Judaism is also important, in which, on the one hand, a high value was attached to knowledge of texts and, on the other hand, a certain ban on images was in force. 247 The study of Nature thus developed within the framework of a visual culture that could become the foundation of the ‘universe of precision’ in the seventeenth century. 41 5.1.3. The Burgher and the Benefits of Natural Philosophy Al wat men spaert is eerst gewonnen; Het beste webb’ wort t’huys gesponnen. Met wel te winnen, en wel te sparen Soo kan men magtig goet vergaren. Jacob Cats, ‘Regels voor de Huys-houdinge’, ADW I, p. 601 [Everything one saves is well earned; The best fabric is spun at home. With good earning, and good saving One can amass considerable property]. Jacob Cats, ‘Rules for House-keeping’. Through the epistemological implications of visual culture in early modern Europe, I encounter a new issue. It is no coincidence that Italy and the Netherlands always play a prominent role in the historiography of the ‘arts’ and ‘sciences’. Both regions are taking part in a broader and more comprehensive reevaluation of natural philosophical thinking in early modern times. The question is therefore who benefited from the visual, mathematically ordered knowledge of the concrete? Were it the sovereigns, the courts and the elite associated with them who saw the cultural objects as status objects? Or, in the context of increasing trade, did the burghers in the towns promote a new ideal of behavior? Although literature knows both options and sees Italy (aristocratic elite) and Holland (middle class, bourgeoisie) in these often as opposites, this issue is usually placed against the background of social, political, and economic history. Paintings, drawings, architectural designs and illustrated writings are then conceived as products or expressions of economic and social development.248 I want to reverse this approach by once again starting from the cultural artefacts themselves. I would propose to engage the arena of great social, political, and economic history from the fate of paintings, inventions, and architectural drawings. The culturalhistorical analysis is paramount, illustrated here and there with some social, economic and political facts. Viewed from the perspective of cultural history, a reinterpretation of some well-known turning points and rifts seems necessary. This applies both to the Renaissance, which still occupies a central place in art history, and to the French Revolution, which is considered the beginning of European modernization.249 I am convinced that these two rifts are relevant to the history of artifacts, but in a different way than is usually assumed. Much more decisive is the distinction between sovereign and burgher – and institutionally that between church and university – especially when it comes to the ‘universe of precision’.250 One can also ask the question how Stevin, Cats and Van Hoogstraten think about the 42 relationship between burgher and sovereign. To what extent does their thinking differ from the political theories circulating in Europe at that time? Can the three protagonists – the engineer, the poet and the painter – be referred to as cultural intermediaries?251 The early modern sovereign, according to the many studies on patronage, benefits from the process of developing the ‘universal of precision’ in at least five respects.252 Many European sovereigns surrounded themselves during this period with an elite consisting of scholars, painters, engineers and writers.253 First of all, scholars (such as Da Vinci and Stevin) are hired because their inventions are of military importance.254 At the same time, through their actions, large representative buildings were erected. 255 Secondly, many of the natural philosophical discoveries serve to entertain the great festivities at court. These festivities should both raise the sovereign’s prestige and strengthen diplomatic ties. Thirdly, visual culture is promoted by commissioning painters. This allows the sovereign to increase his cultural status. Fourthly, the humanist re-reading of antique thought is accompanied by a flood of symbolic-cosmological ideas. For example, it is known that at Protestant courts in Germany, Denmark and Holland, but also at the imperial court of Rudolf II, there was a great interest in the whole range of chemical philosophy: ‘Paracelsianism, together with hermeticism, cabalism, and other forms of Renaissance magic and religious syncretism’.256 The sovereign and his court are legitimated to act as the center of the world. And finally, the ‘Vorstenspiegel’ [Mirror for Princes] offers precise guidelines that define the manners and etiquette of the court. With regard to these guidelines, Elias, and later historians such as Ariès, Duby, Flandrin and Muchembled have stated that it amounts to a formalization of medieval knightly customs. These, in combination with humanist ideas, would have led to the courtly ideal of civilization that eventually found its way to the lower regions of society. 257 In other words: the sovereign got enough in return for his investment in scholars, engineers and artists. 258 Common to the efforts of these exempt individuals is that they often studied nature. ‘Ramelli and his colleagues, supported in their imaginative excursions by their royal and aristocratic patrons, were in fact happily compiling pictorial catalogues of material progress and technical possibilities’.259 Again and again, writes Kempers, the visual artists were given the opportunity to develop their profession. ‘They were given the opportunity to create high quality work, they were able to experiment, and so an impressive range of innovations emerged’.260 This mutually beneficial arrangement between sovereign, painter and architect also applies to the other nature researchers of the early modern period. The burgher’s benefit lies on another plane. That does mean, however, that one must first disentangle oneself from the current connotations of the term ‘citizen’. It is not so much a wealthy middle class between sovereign and ordinary people. This is a sociological category indicating socio-economic status. But in early 43 modern Europe the term has a historical meaning. 261 In his Burgherlick Leven [Civic Life] (1590),262 Stevin states that the burgher derives his name from the ‘burcht’ [fortified town] in which he and his family live.263 Others, like Dirck Volckertsz. Coornhert and Hugo de Groot endorse this view.264 The status of the burgher is determined by the legal freedom he and his housemates enjoy and thus by his submission to the laws and rights of the town. Usually the laws, ordinances and customs are valid in a certain domain, as long as they do not conflict with higher laws. These higher laws are established for the ‘gemenebest’ [commonwealth] and thus also for the welfare of the individual (who is placed by Stevin on the ‘leeghste trede’ [lowest step in the hierarchy].265 The laws of the Dutch republic are binding on all residents, and they must comply with them. Each province (Stevin speaks of ‘landschap’ [region]) has its own rules, which are valid as long as they do not go against the higher ones. Each town (Stevin gives Delft as an example) then has statutes and regulations, which may not go against the laws of Holland, nor those of the Republic. And finally, a burgher of Delft may establish the law in his own house for his servants and his family, provided he respects all previous laws. This natural reason means that a burgher is never forced to follow laws contrary to higher laws of the commonwealth. A burgher who orders his servants to work two hours in the morning before breakfast does not violate higher laws. But when the burgher urges his servants to beat the bailiff, they can refuse to do so, invoking the general laws, which they then violate.266 The state consisting of burghers takes its form from these laws and regulations and, according to Stevin, is called ‘burgerlijkheid’.267 In the philosophy of Aristotle (to which Stevin refers), something similar applies: only the free burgher can submit to the laws, the slave does not have that right.268 The various ‘forms of government’ serve the public interest. Aristotle noted the following about the duty of rulers: ‘legislators make their fellow citizens good by instilling certain habits in them. This is the purpose of every legislator, and those who fail to do so miss the mark. This distinguishes a good form of state from a bad one’.269 Even the one who sets himself up as ruler, for example a sovereign, must respect the divine, natural and urban laws, just as the burgher does.270 In short: the laws and the sovereign are there for the benefit of the municipality, its prosperity and its burghers271 – not the other way around.272 That is why the question of the tyrant or ‘wreedaerdighe Vorst’ [vicious Sovereign], who has only his own self-interest in mind, is treated in the treatises by early modern authors like Stevin, Cats, Coornhert, but also with Alberti. 273 If the burgher is understood in this sense, it is clear that he and his family benefit directly from the ‘universe of precision’ in all sorts of ways. After all, arranging a good life requires concrete knowledge about everything that occurs in Nature. Not only must the house be fought against the forces of Nature, but the health of man stands and falls with the knowledge of Nature. Furthermore, this knowledge can be used in the domestic enterprise of everyday life. It is to the 44 advantage of the burgher and his family to have differentiated knowledge about the things of life. The transfer and appropriation of this knowledge takes place through writings, but also by verses that imprint this knowledge more firmly in the memory through rhyme and metre. This also happens, and especially through the varied visual culture that educates burghers ‘at a glance’ about everyday life. Words and images offer an analogue world that encourages comparison. While thinking, one tests the visible world. About what one wears and how one lives, how one cooks and polishes, how one sleeps and plays, how one travels and behaves – the gallery of examples is endless and always offers new combinations. The mistress and master of the house, as Jacob Cats describes, can only run the household enterprise thanks to their knowledge of substances, matters and living things.274 This makes the house in the Dutch seventeenth century a ‘feminized’ domain, as several authors have recently emphasized, but not when it implies that the man focuses only on the public and concentrates on his work outdoors.275 Early modern thinking aims not so much at a strict socioeconomic division of labor between the sexes, but rather the installation of the art of living on the basis of the natural order. In this endeavor, Cats’ work is in line with the work of other European authors such as Alberti, Le Ménagier de Paris, Fray de Leòn and Perkins, no matter how much their work differed in the configurations that they ultimately presented. What is thus demonstrated in this comparative analysis is that it should not be about emphasizing the similarities and influences in early modern thinking in Europe, in order to demonstrate homogeneity, nor to enlarge the differences and deviations that exist. When comparing related cultures, it is important to focus first of all ‘on the pattern between semantic ingredients, which are permutated by one culture in one way and by another culture in another way “while retaining structure”’.276 It is not the individual events that are decisive, but the pattern formation that can be detected and on the basis of which the disparate events are assigned their respective weight. (Incidentally, this applies not only to the ways in which the art of living is articulated within Europe, but also to the differentiated ways in which the art of painting and the art of building manifest themselves in the early modern period). Against this backdrop, Kelso and Maclean both conclude that early modern thinking about ‘the woman’ is less different than one might assume judging from the diverse configurations within Europe. ‘It is striking that there is no deep rift of opinion about woman between those writing in the early Renaissance and those writing at its end, nor between Catholic and reformed theologians, although issues of difference (such as general access to the Bible) affect some aspects of this topic and have been added as important factors in social change’.277 There are differences, but these rely on a local adaptation of the virtual pattern. In the case of the early modern period, the classical infrastructure is the common denominator for all who think within European cultures. ‘The differences are less 45 significant than the resemblances and lie rather in external conditions than in expressed ideas. Writers themselves seem to have been little interested in national differences, chiefly, it may be presumed, because they all draw their ideas from common sources…’, according to Kelso.278 Unlike the sovereign who invests money, food, clothing and place in scholars and painters, the burghers invest many of the insights or skills acquired by scholars, painters and engineers in themselves: in the house as a structure, in the domestic business, in his own life and in the education of his offspring.279 The early modern house is the location where burghers bring their goods and activities together. Everything that is necessary for a good life has been brought under the same roof, but classified and distributed across the house – that is the place and the substance in which one can practice the art of the household enterprise.280 With the children and servants as ‘instruments’ (terms of Cats and Coornhert!), while the master and mistress of the house act as head of the domestic enterprise. In doing so, the man must ensure the fair introduction of possessions (‘Het ooge van den heer dat maeckt de peerden vet’ [The eye of the master makes well-fed horses]), while the ‘nauwgezet oog’ [meticulous eye] of the woman ensures that the fabric of the domestic enterprise is transformed into a solid foundation of the life of the burgher (‘Het ooge van de vrou dat maeckt de kamers net’ [The eye of the woman puts the chambers in order]).281 In light of the foregoing, it becomes clear that even in the early modern era, people considered the running of the house with a skillful hand and knowledge to be an art in which both craftsmanship and the described rules came together. In this case, the architectural ground plan of the house does not serve as a place of argument or cosmological symbols, but as a place of memory of everyday life. The house is a place where the domestic relations between the human being and Nature can be memorized. Thus, the domains of the sovereign and of the burgher appear to stand side by side in the early modern period, not only because of their different localities in the commonwealth, but also because they employ the knowledge of nature for different purposes. Thus two types of scholars, appearing at different times in history, can be found side by side in the early modern period, each with their inventions with different goals in mind. ‘While the former sought to convince with certainty about the divine, unchanging, and eternal beings in the cosmos, the latter sought to persuade intellectually about more transient things and to move men to action in the social and political realm. These two intellectual modes defined distinctive social contexts for the pursuit of knowledge. The one evoked a life of withdrawal devoted to the contemplative study and articulation of eternal verities; the other called forth a life of social intercourse and active engagement pursued for the betterment of mankind’.282 This investment of true knowledge and the art of living well coincides with a development referred to in economic history as the ‘industrious revolution’.283 46 ‘The improvement in the economic performance of the household (started as an effort to absorb a deterioration in purchasing power from the late 15th century) was achieved’, writes Van der Woude, ‘by making more days a year economically productive (abolishing the many medieval holidays!), by making more working hours a day, by more child and women’s labor, by simply working more concentrated, more intensely and harder during working hours. What is certain is that this change in the labor process during the 16th century was in full swing in Western Europe’.284 And they also worked – we might add – with more knowledge. Knowledge that circulates more massively and that was applied to the domestic enterprise. In addition, the intensification of labor was accompanied by a revaluation of the classical ideas of house, with the corresponding status for the master and mistress of the house. Natural philosophy knowledge is in many respects in line with the demands of the life of the burgher. Thus, the reinterpretation of antique thought entails a revival of classical civilization, but now under new conditions. Knowledge of life in the broad sense and encyclopedic knowledge of Nature were generated from the thirteenth century onwards.285 This applies just as much to Jacob Van Maerlant in his Der Nature Bloeme,286 as it does to the work of Desiderius Erasmus that distinguishes and reconnects people and things in everyday life. 287 According to Bremmer, Erasmus’ rules were ‘hardly invented by him. On the contrary. He knew the classics by heart and (...) we can safely assume that many of his rules came straight from antiquity. (...) In other words, many of Erasmus’ prescriptions for correct behavior ultimately come from classical and Hellenistic Greece’.288 The same goes for the ‘courtier’ of Baldasare Castiglione. His attention to dignified gestures and manners has become widespread in Europe through the countless reprints and translations. 289 This actually outlines the difference in attitude towards the world. The burgher needs to know concretely how the world works (things, living beings, climate, and food) because he has to act on a daily basis in the domestic and urban business. The sovereign must conduct politics and use inventions or mechanical devices to control the world militarily, symbolically and in terms of representation. Both benefit from promoting natural philosophical observation but not in the same way. This, incidentally, is confirmed by scholars, engineers, and painters who, in their early modern writings, always point out that their pursuit of true knowledge must be of use to the ‘gemenebest’ [commonwealth].290 Apart from Stevin and Van Hoogstraten, Francis Bacon, 291 Petrus Ramus and René Descartes also express themselves in such terms. The latter formulates it as follows: ... to promote, as much as we can, the common good of all people. It has become clear to me through these notions that knowledge can be of great use to life and that instead of the abstract philosophy that is taught in schools, there is a practical philosophy that, by 47 teaching us the power and workings of fire, water, air, stars, the heavens, and all the other bodies by which we are surrounded, provides us with knowledge as clear as that which we have of the various skills of our craftsmen, enables us to make use of them in the same way for all that they are suitable for, and thus to become, as it were, lord and master of nature. And one does not have to wish this only for the making of technical inventions that would allow one to enjoy, without effort or exertion, all the fruits of the earth, and all the conveniences that this world can offer, but above all for the preservation of health, which is undoubtedly the most important benefit and the basis of all the other happiness that can be savoured in this life...292 In the early modern constellation, it is often stated that sovereign and burgher should mainly focus on the ‘gemeensaeck’ (or res publica). Jacob Cats and Simon Stevin both speak out clearly on this matter. The Greek conception of ‘oikos’, which re-emerges in Cats’ Houwelick as the household enterprise, has a political counterpart in the ‘polis’.293 Cats compares the running the household to an aristocracy.294 Stevin discusses the three forms of government defined by Aristotle: monarchy, democracy, aristocracy. 295 He considers the ‘polis’ as a continuation of the family.296 He defines the aristocracy as a government formed by the best, each from their specific excellence.297 For his own good and for the sake of general welfare, the burgher will abide by the laws and regulations. 298 And Stevin points out that even unreasonable animals such as bees, ants and storks can form a community by complying with some generally valid rules.299 This view is an echo of the contemporary commonplace about natural law, in which it is assumed that the human being does not live for himself alone. 300 In men and women, excellence stems from their natural but unequal abilities. Both of them make an effort to use their innate talents to achieve the goal that Nature sets them: the art of living well (ars bene vivendi). For, says Aristotle, the specific purpose of human life cannot be to grow and to procreate, for they share this with all living beings, as plants and animals. Nor can the goal be to experience and sense what they have in common with animals. The real purpose of the life of the human being is to live with the mind, i.e., to strive for a good life (happiness). Through the innate ability to act, through study and practice, man can fulfill his natural destiny.301 ‘Remarkable for the contemporary reader is’, Pannier and Verhaege write, ‘no doubt that Aristotle does not identify happiness with an ethical life and even less with a mere sense of happiness, without excluding both. Contrary to the feeling of happiness, which can only be appreciated by the person who experiences it, happiness is a form of life which can be judged objectively, a task which can be described by inductive reasoning, starting from life in the citystate and the nature of man. Aristotle thus speaks of a successful or fulfilled life, just as one can nowadays speak of a successful businessman, without referring in the first place to the feeling of success, nor to the ethical excellence. Aristotle’s 48 question is not so much “how a man should live” as “what a successful life is made of”’.302 Because man is naturally inclined to live in pairs, because friendship with the opposite sex is in their own nature and because in their physical unification they become part of the natural divine universe which they thus pass on to the next generation – for all these reasons, in Jacob Cats’ thought the community of man and woman is the foundation of life. Husband and wife contribute to the shared well-being to the best of their ability. In doing so, they act on the basis of their specific dignity and their own excellence. Because their abilities are by nature unequal, their merits are also unequal. Aristotle points out in this context that a human being with the capacity for excellence (of which he recognizes different forms) acquires dignity by acting according to that capacity (and not by being praised by others) – a similar reasoning can be found in Stevin. 303 However, all merits are equally necessary for the fulfilment of the common objective. For ‘what is common to them keeps them together,’ Aristotle said.304 Together man and woman therefore bear the authority over their subjects in the house. 305 ‘The community of man and woman is clearly aristocratic in nature: the man rules by virtue of his male dignity and does so over the matters for which he is competent; but he leaves everything in the woman’s domain to her. However, when the man is master of everything, he turns the marital relationship into an oligarchy; in fact, he is acting against his male dignity and not on the basis of his natural superiority’.306 Just as the ‘oikos’ in Greek classical thought implies the ‘polis’, so in Holland from the late sixteenth century onwards the house seems to include the ‘gemenebest’ [commonwealth] (Cats) or the ‘ghemeensake’ (Stevin).307 Within the system of rights and laws, both domains are inseparable. 308 According to Stevin, as a resident of a house, a town, a region or a country, one must always comply with the rules of the common good. 309 The laws and the state of burghers are there for the individuals and their well-being, Stevin reformulates the classical view.310 Jacob Cats, in turn, says that a well-managed ‘huisgezin’ [nuclear family] is not only the foundation for the well-being of the housemates, but also for the commonwealth. It is the foundation of prosperity and government in the town, state and church. ‘t Is (mijns oordeels) niet min wijselijck als waerachtelijck geseydt, dat de staet des huwelicx is een smisse van menschen, een grondsteen van steden, en een queeckerye van hooge regeeringe; dien volgende dat aen het goet ofte quaet beleyt van den selven hangt niet alleenlijck de rust en onrust van ieder huysgesin in ‘t bysonder, maer selfs de wel en qualick-stant so van Godes Kerke, als van de saecken des landts in ‘t gemeen. (...) Doch, gelijck weerdige dingen gemeenlick haer moeyten en ommeslag sijn hebbende, al eer men tot genot der selver weet te geraecken; (...) gevoelen wy in desen met de gene die het daer voor houden, dat eenen geheelen Staet en een bysonder huysgesin wel te bestieren, in de 49 gronden der saecken niet geheel veel van den anderen en verschillen; dewijle men uijt de daet selfs kan afnemen, dat het beleyt van een welgeregelde huyshoudinge bynaest niet anders en is, als een eygen gedaente en levendig afbeelt van het bestier beyde der kerckelijcke en borgerlijke saecken.311 [It is (in my judgment) nevertheless wisely and reliably said, that the state of marriage is a forge of men, a foundation stone of cities, and a nursery of strong government; it follows that on the good or bad policy thereof depends not only the peace and turmoil of every household in particular, but even the prosperity or bad state of the Church, as well as of the affairs of the country in general.... (...) Yet, as worthy things generally require trouble and ado, before one knows how to get to the enjoyment of them; (...) in this we are of opinion with those who consider, that to govern a whole State, and especially the household well, does not differ much from each other in the substance; because one may infer from the act itself, that the policy of a well regulated household is almost like its own form and vivid picture of the administration ecclesiastical and civil affairs]. Religion is an important instrument in this context to imprint values in order to make people good burghers. According to Stevin and Cats, religious stories are pre-eminently suitable instruments to teach children the distinction between good and evil from an early age. The fear of the all-seeing and punishing God makes children renounce evil and turns them into honest burghers, righteous governors and finally into a prosperous community, according to Stevin. 312 But as with Coornhert, Bodin or Spinoza, for them religion is not implied in political theory. Church and state should be separated. 313 Although this sketch has a provisional character, it offers us two insights. First of all, sovereign and burghers, often in combination with a mediating state apparatus, appear to be side by side rather than opposite each other. Their interests are obviously not identical, but the idea of a certain balance or distribution of power is not uncommon in various regions of early modern Europe. The three forms of state that Stevin mentions according to Aristotle, he links to those that existed at the time: the monarchy (‘nu ter tijt den Turck’ [presently the Turk]), democracy like Athens and Rome in the old days (‘nu ter tijt van Switserlant ende meer ander’ [today Switzerland and other countries] and aristocracy (‘Voornaementlickheyt’). He also mentions ‘Staetvorstheyt’, by which he refers to a sovereign or monarch who reigns with the States next to him and who, according to him, is the most widespread in Europe at that time. As an example he refers to Brabant, France, Venice and Spain. 314 The costs and benefits are divided between (at least) two parties, if we look at it at the level of culture. The mutual benefit of this constellation also benefits the arts, promotes true knowledge, and stimulates the development of the ‘universe of precision’ on a European level. The Italian city-states (14th-16th century), the 50 16th-century Spanish kingdom, 16th- and 17th-century England, the court of Christina in Sweden, that of Christiaan IV of Denmark, the Prague court of Rudolf II and the stadholder court in the Dutch Republic show how varied the environments and how differentiated the balances of power can be. By the way, the 16th-century French court, where Italians such as Leonardo Da Vinci and Sebastiano Serlio are employed, can also be attributed to this. 315 From the point of view of visual culture and knowledge, they are always ‘mixed’ cultures. In the same circuits one finds both courtly symbolism and concrete thinking, both exalted biblical histories and still lifes of everyday things from Nature. One may wonder whether it was precisely this ‘mixing’ that led to a cultural flowering. In any case, such a mixture occurred in some places in Italy, Spain, Germany, England, France, and in the Netherlands. The second point is that ‘the court’ does not appear to be an unequivocal category.316 In historiography, the court, the sovereign and the aristocracy are seen as historical (i.e. evolving) phenomena, but in fact they are regarded as variants of one and the same sociological category. The political contrast between court and burghers is often emphasized. The court is easily identified with absolutism. But in early modern times it is precisely the distinction between two types of sovereign power that is at stake: the court that is somehow in political-cultural balance with the burghers versus the absolutist court that has drawn all power to itself. In the course of time this last form becomes (temporarily) dominant. In the seventeenth-century French ceremonial court, the courtly patronage, in which the painter, scholar and engineer can freely practice and experiment, gives way to a programme in which ‘arts’ and ‘sciences’ are separated and in which the painter and scholar must work according to the rules with the primary aim of glorifying the sovereign and his power. 317 Viewed from the perspective of the early modern arts and the knowledge they generated (which only became possible through the exemption of intellectuals), the absolutist period is an exception. The classicist hegemony should rather be understood as a codification of rules and schemata that develop into a compelling system. This applies to the art of painting, of the art of building and the art of poetry. In this sense, the spread of classicism to other regions of Europe in the eighteenth century can indeed be seen as a temporary brake on the fruitful inventions that emerged from the mixed constellation of sovereign and burgher. It was only with the French Enlightenment that this thread was picked up again. According to this interpretation, the contribution of the court and absolutism to cultural change is much less than is generally thought. Seventeenth-century France is less the ‘origin’ of European cultural developments than is assumed in the histories of culture, the arts, and sciences.318 Incidentally, the crucial role of absolutism is also nuanced in political history. In Holland, for example, a burgher 51 revolution appears to precede the formation of the state. This produced a state with a different distribution of power and priorities. 319 There is no doubt that the case in Europe is more complicated than indicated in this sketch. In addition to sovereign and burghers, the Church also played an important role as patron: it employed painters (and promoted ecclesiastical art), as well as learned humanists (such as Alberti). The intellectual circuits have since become more refined since the early modern period, with academies and colleges emerging alongside universities. Moreover, the case is complicated by the existence of governments that keep the sovereign at a distance. In the Dutch Republic, Counties and the Grand Pensionary had their own position of power alongside the stadholder's court. In France, from Louis XIII and Louis XIV onward, governments developed into the center of power in line with the sovereign. All of this, of course, nuances the power-political network. Nevertheless, we have to ask ourselves what remains of the early modern civilization offensive that Norbert Elias postulated in 1939. Judging by the numerous references to Elias’ model, his representation has been accepted in literature. Among cultural historians, as well as art and architectural historians, the sociologist’s model forms the unquestioned starting point of ‘the process of civilization’ that is said to have taken place from the beginning of the sixteenth century.320 Judging from the many times this idea appears without referring to Elias, it can even be said that his conception (in terms of Roland Barthes) has been ‘naturalized’.321 The difficulty, however, is that Elias relies heavily on Erasmus’ work in his views on increasing civilization, embarrassment, self-control, drift regulation and raising the threshold of pain.322 Although Elias acknowledges the impact of older, medieval and classical views on Erasmus’ dignified attitude, appropriate treatment and honorable regard, he reformulates them in the (psychological, evolutionist) terminology of his own time.323 Thus, in 1939, he formulated his own politicalsociological theory, which wants the modernization of human psychological behavior in early modern times to be caused by the process of state formation. The fact that nowadays his ‘political’ interpretation has been replaced by the ‘personal’ projection – witness the many histories of the ‘emancipating self’ that have appeared in the meantime – does not detract from this issue and only proves that interpretations are sensitive to present-day developments. In this sense Foucault’s work contrasts with these ‘operative’ (ideological) historiography. 324 Foucault understands ‘the self’ not so much as the central and independent subject on which the historical changes are taking place. For Foucault, what is referred to as ‘subject’ is first and foremost an object of research: ‘it is a good thing to 52 investigate the forms and modalities of the relationship to oneself through which the individual constructs and acknowledges oneself as a subject’.325 In the second of this 5th Chapter (section 5.2.1. and 5.2.2.) I will briefly return to the German context of his interpretation (first half of the 20th century), because Norbert Elias shares this context with many important art and architecture historians. It is true that many authors have accepted the correctness of Elias’ theory because of the ‘surprisingly concrete’ historical source material he uses. In Chapters 2, 3 and 4, I have shown that this discursive and visual material can also be interpreted very differently. Therefore, it is not only desirable to review the sources.326 The now established patterns of interpretation with regard to early modern culture also need to be reconsidered. 53 5.1.4. Aristotle in Holland Without now claiming that Rembrandt was an educated Aristotelian scholar - for neither like Van Mander, who found Aristotle's remarks on physiognomy but a strange ‘geraes’, will Rembrandt have been particularly interested philosophically - one may nevertheless assume that he shared the more popular forms of Aristotelian thought that were maintained by the Calvinist universities in the Netherlands. Jan Emmens 1964, Rembrandt en de regels van de kunst [Rembrandt and the Rules of Art], p. 172. There is something very Dutch about a poet [Constantijn Huygens in his Daghwerck] using the intimacy of his own house and his marriage as a central image of life, even as there is something Dutch about Huygens’s equanimity toward the implications of the new science. Svetlana Alpers 1983, The Art of Describing, p. 11.327 There will undoubtedly be many other objects besides the house to which the conceptual developments, shifts and transformations in early modern Holland can be demonstrated – or adjusted. In that sense, the ‘house’ as a subject of a culturalhistorical research is by no means unique. What Stevin and Cats, De Hooch and Van Hoogstraten have in common is their study of Nature and they share this with many scholars in this period of Europe. It is a challenge for cultural-historical research to examine in which layers of culture this way of thinking manifests itself, at what pace it migrates and mutates. Seen in this light, the house is only one historical phenomenon from which one can read the detailed operation of local networks or estimate the value of new connections. On the other hand, my comparative research into the early modern house revealed a number of results that were hardly foreseeable. In that respect, the house turned out to be a very fortunate research object. As a trivial subject, somewhere in the lee of the great shock waves of the early modern era, it has had a special advantage. In the midst of all the dramatic processes such as state formation and religious schisms, wars and epidemics, early capitalism, scientific revolution and classicism, it is a subject that received very little attention. The house functioned only as a place of identification and imaging. With hindsight, this marginality turns out to be important. The conceptual shaping of the house charted the movements and undercurrents, the waves and swings in thinking during this period. And, as a consequence, it also places the great ‘breakwater’ of history in a different light. While much historiography of politics, economics, religion, art and science focuses in advance on the branding, I wanted to focus on the slower tidal movement and the gradual shifts in thinking and culture. An important conclusion of all these analyses is that the formation of the Dutch house in each of the three domains followed entirely different lines and traditions. Moreover, the appearance of this house was a by-product rather than 54 something that people consciously worked towards. The primary goal of the knowledge systems studied appears to have been to order and apply natural philosophical insights with regard to building, living well, painting and poetry. For each of these domains, thinking about the art (of building, painting, poetry, living well) is in line with early modern European traditions that had their own goals. Is it a coincidence that this role is fulfilled by an architectural structure? In any case, the use of architectural metaphors in literature, rhetoric, and the art of memory dates back to ancient times. The building often serves as a structure to organize thought, memory or speech. By placing the elements in a certain order in a building (by identifying them with statues or ornaments), one can, during the delivery (the speech), resume the marked-out path along the statues and thus practice the art of memory. It is significant that this still happens in literature today.328 The use of such terminology borrowed from architecture underlines the fact that in European thinking there is a relentless pursuit of order, construction, and foundation of thought. In De Oratore, for instance, Cicero uses the temple as an imagery for the arrangement of a speech. 329 Quintilian suggested choosing a house as a metaphor, envisioning the Roman house with courtyard, living room, sleeping and sitting rooms.330 So, the fact that Descartes and Spinoza also choose the making and living in a house as a metaphor for ordering their thoughts on philosophical thinking is not without significance.331 In the house many lines of early modern life come together. Let me therefore end this first part of Chapter 5 with a painting in which the distinguished layers have been condensed. For this purpose, I take one of the most famous tableaux of Samuel van Hoogstraten: his Perspective from a Threshold from 1662 (bp.5.16).332 The painting gives a view of a deep corridor in a house. 333 Placed at the end of a series of chambers in Dyrham Park (Gloucester) it underlines the illusion of depth. 334 The trompe l’oeil effect must have been even stronger at its original location. It was in a small cabinet in the London house of Thomas Povey, who knew Van Hoogstraten from the Royal Society. The painting only became visible in all its spatial glory after the door behind which it was hidden was opened by the host. Amazement and admiration marked the reactions of guests who at the time were struck by this example of visual deception. 335 In art-historical literature Van Hoogstraten’s painting is best known as a successful attempt to conjure up an illusory space and to mislead the eye. On the one hand, one points to the professional arrangement of perspective that organizes this illusion. On the other hand, Van Hoogstraten ambushes the beholder by including a few eye-catchers at strategic points in the painting. The domestic domain is determined by attributes on the threshold such as broom and key. 336 Reference is also made to the vigilant gaze of some animals (the dog, the cat, the parrot), which Van Hoogstraten also 55 places in this painting in a tactical manner. As Brusati writes, they guard ‘the privacy of the intimate gathering in the domestic space’. But by now we know that the house painted by Van Hoogstraten has to be given a different and more complicated significance.337 After all, the painting, which is more than two and a half metres high, evokes in an exemplary manner the ‘structural sensation’ that G.W. Locher experienced face to face with work by Escher years ago.338 In Van Hoogstraten’s painted tableau the different potentials of early modern thinking are vividly addressed simultaneously. Firstly, it shows the Dutch (but also the English) interest in accurate following Nature from the second half of the seventeenth century. In both countries this revaluation of vital parts of the Aristotelian philosophy of Nature results in a more scientific approach of thinking about Nature. Secondly, Van Hoogstraten’s house presents the building materials from which it is built. We see the wood, the glass, the tiled floor, and the plastering from which the house has been built in all its firmness. Moreover, we recognize the tactile values of those painted planes. There are pigmented fields that we perceive ‘like’ wood and glass, ‘like’ tile and wall. In a similar way, the materiality of the ‘tablecloth’ can be distinguished in a single glance from the metal of the birdcage, the cuddly coat of the cat or the hardness of the busts placed above the passageway. Thirdly, the painting celebrates in all its vividness the primacy of the eye and light, the optics and the image. The house, full of windows and portals, exists by the grace of the incoming sunlight. The chamber scape owes its appearance to the properties of sunlight and shadow gradations. The light is everywhere. It makes the broom visible as it stands on the ground, with its shiny stem and the two slightly incised notches at the top. The pillar is round because the light passes along it sideways. Light reflects on the metal key, on the carved capital, on the twisted wooden chair legs, on the edge of the chimney and on the lead in the glass window on the right side. Beams light up the edge of the map on the wall, the doorposts, the railing of the stairs and the bars of the birdcage. Fourth, corridor and staircase, wall and window, door and key, place the natural classification in the house in the foreground. Everything that has been collected within the house remains ‘within its architectural limits’. Stevin’s ‘kamervorming’ [chamber formation], derived from a natural taxonomy, also dominates Van Hoogstraten’s painting. The corridor in the painting functions not so much as an axis or aesthetic line of sight that makes the house symmetrical. It emphasizes the many chambers that make up the house, and which relate to each other in a mirror-like way. Just as in a face the left and right sides are in balance with each other in terms of size, shape, decoration and materiality, so the chambers in this house have their special value in relation to each other and form an organic part of the house as a whole. Fifthly, Van Hoogstraten shows the relative position of the burgher within the natural order as a whole. Other living creatures are just as much a part of it. The white and brown spotted dog, fluffy on 56 the chest, with brown hanging ears, a swaying tail, and big eyes, stands on both hind legs and the right front leg: his left leg, slightly bent, he keeps it ready (To give to the sudden visitor? To turn around and run away?). The cypress cat on the other hand, – high back, raised tail – is tense as a feather. In this chamber scape, the animals are ‘in their element’, just like the household goods and the characters sitting at the table behind the glass. Barely noticed, the characters are sitting behind the glazed partition wall in a chamber. In terms of Jacob Cats: the house is clean, orderly and everything is ready for use. Woman and man sit there in peace, in freedom and with dignity.339 They drink a glass of wine and maintain themselves together in an appropriate manner. Only a few details draw our attention to the fact that all these layers of historical culture can be activated in the painting because the image is based on the rules of painting that mobilize the eye. The layered structure of historical aspects has been formalized and effectively brought together within the framework of the flat plane. By opening up the painted surface, by cutting ‘holes’ in it (adding a ‘window’, ‘map’, ‘painting’, ‘mirror’, ‘doorway’, ‘fireplace’), by the local application of a handful of lines in the lower part (the fading tile floor) the eager eye is steered. The accelerating rhythm of the light and dark stripes takes the eye to the back chamber, where the floor suddenly changes both pattern and color. In this way the eye is eventually sucked in by what manifests itself as a ‘drain’ of the painting: a contrasting plane of red and yellow, light and shadow that becomes the center of the image. Only a few lifelike details emphasize by their place in the painting that this depth effect is the effect of the applied rules of the art of painting. Such as the seemingly coincidental piece of paper lying around on the stairs which, through its contrast, underlines the orderliness of the system in which everything has been given its proper place. Van Hoogstraten has also placed his signature on it. Although Jan Steen is the one who treats the canvas most like a flat plane and is least attracted to the transparent line pattern that places everything ‘op het oog’ [by and large] correctly, such clutter on floors and walls can also be seen in other early modern painters. As in this painting where the hook of the birdcage actually falls outside the canvas. These incongruities in the painted image remind the practiced observer that this painting is first and foremost a masterfully with pigments covered plane. Looking at Van Hoogstraten’s painting and knowing what long and complex European genealogies preceded it, we also see centuries back in time. In fact, the painting evokes different cultural patterns, going beyond the usual national historiography. This tableau refers to fourteenth-century illuminations, fifteenth and sixteenth-century domestic engravings and paintings, as well as treatises on the art of drawing and the art of painting. But it also refers to Parisian, Florentine, Dutch, English, and Spanish writings on the art of living well in which the status 57 and dignity of the early modern burgher is indicated in classical terms. It is also reminiscent of the tracts written about the art of building. This seventeenthcentury painting is thus able to present early modern Europe and place it in historical perspective. So, the early modern house in the Dutch seventeenth century, forms a complex metaphor with roots stretching back to Greek times. The house turns out to be pre-eminently a concept in which the existence of the Dutch burgher is condensed. This condensation does not contradict the observation that there are three different domains, each of which is articulated in its own intellectual discipline. Nothing points to a common objective or to a shared desire to establish a housing culture for burghers.340 There is no conscious and coordinated conspiracy of engineer, moralist, and painter here. Or, as Norbert Elias once rightly observed about the general problem of ‘historical change,’ ‘There is nothing in history to indicate that this change was carried out “rationally,” e.g., as a result of deliberate education, by individual people or individual groups of people. This change as a whole is unplanned, yet not without an order of its own’.341 In the previous chapters I explored three domains: the art of building with Simon Stevin, the art of living well with Jacob Cats and the art of painting with Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten. These are domains that have each time presented ‘the house’ in a different shape. The analysis showed that each domain has a specific structure. All three are anchored in their own way in the early modern European tradition. The issues at stake, the concepts and words that are used, the place that images occupy in them – all these differ from domain to domain. I always had to deal with those issues specifically. General answers make little sense. Instead, the question was which authors criticizes tradition. Who does one speak to during the exchange of views? What is at stake in the claim to power in a train of thought? In short: the question of which debates are held, which rules apply and at what pace the debate shifts depends on local and specific circumstances. However, research into Nature plays a central role in all the historical sources I analyzed. In the art of building, the building materials, human nature, the nature of lines and numbers are examined. In the art of living well one examines the fabrics inside and outside the house, the passions, the spirituality, but also the workings of poetic conventions and word/image combinations as in emblems. In the art of painting, one observes how pigments and shades of color work, how a handful of lines make a plane transparent, how light and shadow work or how bodies are formed. Up to three times, thinking turned out to be based on a natural philosophical approach that has its (provisional) origins in Greek times. People know their classics but are also debating them. In this sense, Dutch thought in the seventeenth century bears a strong resemblance to that of the quattrocento in Italy. In any case, the classical heritage in the arts of early modern Holland has a 58 stronger impact than is realized today. This classical elaboration goes beyond the fact that there are many translations in circulation, many references to classical authors, or many antique themes. Early modern Dutch thinking about the arts itself is permeated by Aristotelian natural philosophy and has reformed, appropriated, and incorporated it in its own way.342 Thinking about the house has taken place in Holland in widely divergent areas. My selection of three authors with their works was, as I explained at the beginning, motivated by the fact that they are rooted in the same cultural past, although what they excavated from this collective ground was not necessarily shared by them. They appropriate all kinds of things and themes within the context and traditions in which they themselves think. As far as I’ve been able to check, there are no cross-references between these authors. References to classical heritage, translated or not, are all the more numerous. Driven by questions that were formulated within the respective traditions and that started well before the seventeenth century, these four protagonists each develop their own questions. Contrary to the stereotype, the Dutch seventeenth-century ‘house’ appears to consist of a series of heterogeneous, colorful and significant ideas and images in which some of those long lines converge. In fact, Stevin, Cats, De Hooch and Van Hoogstraten never. That doesn’t mean that the circuits they were part of didn’t hit each other. With hindsight it can be concluded that they were part of a web of networks and that they each for themselves (and many with them) brought certain parts of the classical library into circulation. In their own domain, these authors have edited, discussed, commented, and published texts. All this made Holland a fertile breeding ground, in which not only Aristotelian thinking about Nature could thrive in a vital way and images were given a new status as visual knowledge, but also new connections were made. In general, such a view is accepted within the current historiography of exact sciences.343 As Grafton pointed out, the recent attention paid to the paths of classical heritage in history is of a different order than in Burckhardt. In his study of the Renaissance, Burckhardt placed emphasis on the creation of a new culture, and less on the place in it of ancient ideas. So much so that – according to Burckhardt – the Renaissance would have been there without this revival of the classics. However, current research is not so much concerned with the obstacles that classical thinking encountered on its way, but with the ways in which this thinking has been distorted, appropriated, and led to new thought forms. 344 ‘More specifically, medieval and Renaissance changes in classical and biblical originals are themselves not simply innovations, but moves in a game some of whose rules were established in antiquity itself. All literary or artistic creations – classical as well as postclassical – result from choices among preexisting genres and elements and take effect only by the grace of scribes and printers and the conscious activity 59 of readers. The history of cultural transmission has been extended backward into the ancient world itself (...) Transmission thus becomes central to the story of high culture in the West’.345 This current history of the sciences, however, is in conflict with both the art historical attitude towards early modern art (in terms of ‘eternal beauty’, scientific perspective’) and the historical-anthropological attitude towards visual culture (in terms of social communication). In my opinion, the early modern arts – and in this I am supported by recent scientific-historical studies – are embedded in a way of thinking about Nature, in which both beauty and the human being have their place in a meaningful dialectic dynamic. Motivated by and articulated in terms of their respective traditions, various domestic issues are starting to intertwine and establish relationships. From a certain point in early modern history – as can be determined in retrospect – associations become linked, images rhyme, and statements echo. These unintended reactions between the different domains result in a solid cultural combination. It is this complex of links that was appropriated by the burgher during the seventeenth century. The alliance has proved beneficial, both for the burgher and for the house. The burgher takes advantage of the house as a complex based on Nature and appropriates it. The house (as a gathering place of knowledge) benefits from the power and wealth of the Dutch burgher, in order to be able to reproduce through time. The house as a new conceptual entity – disconnected from the temporary political connection with the early modern burgher – and makes its own way through history. 346 All this happened before academic classicism dominated in Europe for a century as a normative programme in court circuits in which there was little interest in the house. In the nineteenth century, the house reappeared, albeit in now-shifted conceptual configurations that attached new forms, new meanings, and new sensibilities to itself.347 This genealogy thus sheds a different light on the status of certain cultural products in Western cultural history. Firstly, the study of Nature in the course of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries led to a ‘universe of precision’ (Floris Cohen). In the history of science, Aristotelian natural philosophical thinking is now recognized as an important precondition for the scientific revolution that flourished in the course of the seventeenth century. Secondly, it appears fruitful to approach the development of the arts from this broad early modern European perspective. As a result, the alleged contrast between Italian and Dutch painting proves not only much more relative than is assumed, but also less relevant to the history of early modern art. The visual knowledge that arises in this period includes not only various kinds of painted and drawn depictions, but also technical designs, maps, mathematical diagrams, anatomical studies and so on. Several things come together in the early modern image: artisanal knowledge and skills regarding the fabrics to be processed, a discursive system of rules of the 60 arts, a broad geographical and public distribution of word and image combinations (through printing). And finally, the fact that, as the example of the natural philosophical thinking of René Descartes shows, in early modern times knowledge is based on analogy. Finally, the historical sources I have examined show nothing of a new selfawareness or an aspiration for individuality such as has been believed since the nineteenth century in imitation of Burckhardt.348 Cultural historians such as Peter Burke and Anthony Grafton have in general already unmasked this idea, although they did make an exception for the arts. 349 Nor do I see unequivocal traces of a courtly elite that (as Elias suggested) would have made such a turn in Western history. From the moment that classical knowledge was revived in Europe (twelfth century), craftsmen, scholars, artists, poets, and scientists worked on it and, as a renewed knowledge, invested it in domains that benefited both the sovereign court and the burghers in the towns. The sovereign benefited in various ways (power politics, prestige, military) from employing and exempting scholars and artists. But the natural philosophical knowledge that resulted from the many experiments and inventions was eminently suitable in other domains of life. Domains where burghers used this knowledge for their own lives and their own household enterprise – via a detour this seems to confirm the ‘industrious revolution’ (De Vries) of the sixteenth century.350 And this knowledge also benefited the commonwealth. In the thinking of Stevin, Cats and Van Hoogstraten, the Dutch burgher belongs at the intersection of both lines. And so the Greek terms ‘oikos’ and ‘polis’ have been updated, albeit in an entirely different cultural context with its own special conditions of existence. Aristotle certainly occupies a prominent place in early modern Holland, as is evidenced by Rembrandt's painting of the natural philosopher (bp.5.1). Only in retrospect can one determine the origin of such a structure built up from different formations. Formations that not only give color and flavor to the culture of the early modern Netherlands in distinction to the European context, but that are also responsible for internal cohesion, the ability to reorganize, but also a certain stubbornness that in the long run has made the ‘house’ an eminently ‘Dutch’ cultural fact that acquired mythical significance. Motive and effect are thus not the same. A cultural-historical fact appears to have both sides: motivated by a cultural background and in relation to other facts, it generates effects that are often unintended and unforeseeable. It is not only wrong to identify the motive and the effect. It is equally wrong to hold either of them responsible for the place of a fact in the historical context. 61 COMPLETE BIBLIOGRAPHY cum laude Dissertation 2003 [including SUMMARY]: PDF References Chapter 5, part I, a selection Sources Chapter 5 Aristoteles, Ethica. Ethica Nicomachea. 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Van Berkel, K., ‘Spiegheling en Daet bij Beeckman en Stevin’, in: Tijdschrift voor de geschiedenis van de geneeskunde, natuurwetenschappen, wiskunde en techniek, 2 (1979), 3, pp. 89-100. Van Berkel, K., Isaac Beeckman (1588-1637) en de mechanisering van het wereldbeeld. Amsterdam 1983A. Van Berkel, K., ‘Annie Romein, Simon Stevin en de wetenschapsgeschiedenis’, in: H.M. Beliën (ed.), Vijftig jaar erflaters. Een terugblik op ‘De Erflaters van onze beschaving’ van Jan en Annie Romein. Amsterdam 1990C, pp. 43-57. Van Bunge, W., ‘Filosofie’, in: W. Frijhoff & M. Spies, 1650. Bevochten eendracht. Den Haag 1999, pp. 281-549. Van Dam, M., ‘Architectonische zelfbevrediging. De architectuurmetafoor in het stijlbegrip van Gerrit Komrij’, in: C. van Eck e.a. (ed.), Een kwestie van stijl. Opvattingen over stijl in kunst en literatuur. Amsterdam 1997, pp. 177-186. Van Eck, C. & R. Zwijnenberg, ‘Inleiding en connotaties’, in: Alberti. Over de schilderkunst. 1996, pp. 7-55. 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Nijmegen 1996C. Van den Heuvel, C., ‘De introductie en receptie van de Italiaanse vesting- en stedebouw in de Nederlandse Architectuurtheorie, Simon Stevin’, in C. van den Heuvel, ‘Papiere bolwercken’. De introductie van de Italiaanse stede- en vestingbouw in de Nederlanden (1540-1609) en het gebruik van tekeningen. Alphen aan den Rijn 1991, pp. 131-148, 213-217. Van der Woude, A.M., ‘Ons Europa’ (1999), in: A.M. van der Woude, Leven met geschiedenis. Theorie, praktijk en toepassing van historische kennis. Amsterdam 2000D, pp. 411-422. Vanpaemel, G., Een standbeeld voor Stevin. Wetenschap en cultuur in de Nederlanden. Nijmegen 1995. Vanpaemel, G., ‘Multi- en interdisciplinariteit in de Nederlandse wetenschapsgeschiedenis van de Gouden eeuw’, in: De zeventiende eeuw (1998) 14, pp. 268-277. Verbeek, Th., Descartes. Over de methode. Meppel/ Amsterdam 1979. Verdam, J., Middelnederlandsch Handwoordenboek. `s-Gravenhage 1981 & Supplement Verdam Middelnederlands Handwoordenboek. Leiden/ Antwerpen 1983. Vermij, R., De wetenschappelijke revolutie. Amsterdam 1999. Versteegh, K., ‘Wetenschap in de islamitische samenleving’, in: H. Driessen (ed.), In het huis van de islam. Nijmegen 1997, pp. 278-295. Vloemans, A., Politeia. Geschiedenis van de sociaal-politieke filosofie. Den Haag 1971. Vollemans, K., Het raadsel van de zichtbare wereld. Philips Koninck, of een landschap in de vorm van een traktaat. Amsterdam 1998. Vovelle, M., Mentaliteitsgeschiedenis. Essays over leef- en beeldwereld. Nijmegen 1985. Wachters-van der Grinten, A.-M., Gij zult u geen gesneden beelden maken... Het beeldverbod in jodendom, christendom en islam. Kampen 1996. Wigoder, G., Joodse cultuur, oorsprong en bloei. Baarn 1994. Wittkower, R., ‘East and West: the Problem of Cultural Exchange (1966)’, in: R. Wittkower, Allegory and the Migration of 65 Symbols. London 1977A, pp. 9-14. Wittkower, R., ‘Marvels of the East: a Study in the History of Monsters (1942)’, in: R. Wittkower, Allegory and the Migration of Symbols. London 1977B, pp. 45-74. Wittkower, R., ‘Marco Polo and the Pictorial Tradition of the Marvels of the East (1957)’, in: R. Wittkower, Allegory and the Migration of Symbols. London 1977C, pp. 75-92. Yates, F.A, ‘The hermetic tradition in Renaissance science’, in: C. Singleton, Art, Science and History in the Renaissance. Baltimore 1970, pp. 255-273. Yates, F.A., De geheugenkunst. Amsterdam 1988 (1966). Zwijnenberg, R., ‘Inleiding’, in: Leonardo da Vinci. Paragone. Verhandeling over de schilderkunst. Eerste boek. Amsterdam/ Meppel 1996, pp. 7-39. Zwijnenberg, R., ‘Linear Perspective’, in: R. Zwijnenberg, The Writings and Drawings of Leonardo Da Vinci. Order and Chaos in Early Modern Thought. Cambridge 1999, pp. 112-146. 66 Notes Chapter 5, Part 1 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. See e. g. Fleurkens 1995, pp. 7-10. De Mare 2001, 1999, 1997B, 1994A and 1993. Stevin, Wysentijt; Cats, ADW I, pp. 605-606; Van Hoogstraten 1678. For the Indo-European language see De Saussure (Harris 1983, p. xvii) and about the IndoEuropean myth Dumézil (Littleton 1973). See also Wittkower 1977A, B and C; Eisenstein 1979; Doniger O'Flaherty 1980 and Doniger 1998. Israels 1996; Berkvens-Stevelink 2000, pp. 7-8; Rietbergen 1998; Grafton 1990. Berkvens-Stevelinck 2000, p. 7. Diamond 1998, p. 9. Van der Woude 2000D, pp. 413-414. Doniger 1998; Berkvens-Stevelinck 2000, p. 9; Diamond 1998, p. 11. In this sense, the shift from e. g. Janson (1961, pp. 569-578) is only gradual. Both in terms of the usefulness attributed to the treatment of non-Western art traditions and in terms of the impact of other modern (emancipatory) views on, for example, gender (Honour & Fleming 1999, pp. 28-30). ‘In my opinion, neither the current, indeed Eurocentric, research methods nor our knowledge of the complex interplay of factors called history, are sufficient to adequately describe major historical wholes. Nevertheless, we should not close our eyes to the fact that biologists, ethnologists, economists, and historians alike tend to think in ever wider geographical entities’, according to Berkvens-Stevelinck 2000, p. 11 and p. 9, respectively. Moreover, this history concerns very long periods of time, a complex stratification and many historical quantities that are not comparable. But the study of the paths the arts have taken can play a major role in this. They swarm out relatively easily and tear down boundaries that historians sometimes see as uninviting mountains. The example given by Berkvens-Stevelinck is enlightening in this sense, especially in view of recent events in Afghanistan. The Greek-Buddhist culture that arose in Afghanistan after Alexander the Great reached the Indus (4th century B.C.) has emerged from two cultures ‘planing each other,’ which has both a painful and formative implication. Moreover, cultural roads have always remained intact – not only to bring culture, but also to smuggle works of art and to destroy culture (Berkvens-Stevelink 2000, pp. 9-10). De Mare 1997A, p. 120. Cohen 1994; Dijksterhuis 1985. Edgerton 1993, p. 187. These books served, according to him ‘to tease the vanity of aristocratic readers who might vicariously imagine themselves single-handedly taming the resistant forces of nature. Such fantasies encouraged designers to exploit the furthest limits of mechanical possibility despite the fact that no power source efficient enough to drive his devices was available until the eighteenth century’. Halbertsma & Zijlmans 1993. Van Bunge 1999, pp. 284, 286-288, 304; Schmitt 1973, p. 161. Dijksterhuis 1985; Vermij 1999; Kristeller 1961; Cohen 1994. Gies 1995, pp. 227-228 reports that some 2000 manuscripts of Aristotle’s work date from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. From the Middle Ages (especially from the thirteenth century) until the seventeenth century, peripatetic thinking formed the core of the curriculum. This does not mean, as Schmitt 1973, p. 173 underlines, that Aristotle’s entire oeuvre was known at this time. Close 1969, 1971; Kristeller 1961, 1972. Schmitt 1973, p. 163; Grafton & Siraisi 1999, p. 4. Dijksterhuis 1985 and 1943; Cohen 1994; Alpers 1983; Vermij 1999, p. 58. Examples are the Copernican heliocentric system of mathematically determined circles (The 67 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. revolutionibus orbium coelestium from 1543, defended by Galilei, Kepler, Stevin, and Descartes) and Kepler’s adjustment of this system based on observations (the ellipse system from 1604, only recognized by Newton). Schmitt 1973, pp. 162-163, 175. According to him, for example, the discovery of William Harvey (the blood circulation system) is a result of Aristotelian natural philosophy. It ‘continued to be an acceptable framework for some of the most original and creative thinkers’ (Schmitt 1973, pp. 178-179); Van Bunge 1999, pp. 293, 348-349. Thus, Copernicus considered his ‘discovery’ that the earth revolves around the sun as ‘the retrieval of old truths’ (Vermij 1999, p. 67). Hooykaas 1976, p. 124. Cohen 1994, p. 162. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 41). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 111). Schmitt 1973; Osler 1998. According to Copernicus in his De revolutionibus Orbium Coelestium (1543). Kepler set the various orbits of the celestial bodies to music: each had its own tone. Schmitt 1973, p. 163. Which is not to say that Aristotelianism did not begin to lose ground at this time, see Schmitt, p. 164. ‘If we look at the seventeenth century itself, we see that the university scholastic tradition was taken much more seriously by participants in the “century of genius” than by recent historians’ (Schmitt 1973, p. 166). Schmitt 1973, pp. 160-163. Incidentally, ancient heritage had previously developed in various directions, with Augustine (354-430) linking Christian thought to the philosophical system of Plato, while Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) linked it to that of Aristotle, according to Kristeller 1961. Needless to say, both antique ‘orientations’ never occur in a pure state. Hankins 1999, pp. 88-89. For these characteristics, see Dijksterhuis 1985, pp. 14-15. Van Bunge 1999, p. 348. Osler 1998, p. 92. Grafton 1999, p. 8. The point of the article in 1973 is to give some arguments, Schmitt writes, to show ‘that this tradition is more important in the general intellectual and cultural context of the Renaissance than has usually been realized’ (p. 159). ‘Especially during the past dozen or so years a number of serious and detailed investigations have been initiated, which tend to show that the Peripatetic tradition during the period 1350-1650 is worthy of further consideration and must be seen as one of the dominant streams of thought of the Renaissance period’ Schmitt 1973, p. 159. Schmitt 1973, p. 165. Schmitt 1973, p. 161. For a recent overview see Frijhoff & Spies 1999, ‘Instrumenten van cultuur’, pp. 227-279. Schmitt 1973, p. 162; for Descartes, see Verbeek 1979, pp. 31-32. In the history of natural science and philosophy Descartes is described in terms of ‘great influence’, ‘new era’, ‘one of the founders of modern philosophy’, ‘pioneering work’, ‘designed a total vision of reality’, ‘in a completely new form’ (Vermij 1999, p. 83); ‘new philosophy’, ‘father of modern philosophy’, ‘new method’ (Bor & Petersma 2000, pp. 215, 243). From Bunge 1999, pp. 290, 347. In Descartes’ as well as Spinoza’s argumentation one comes across terms such as ‘exploration of nature’, ‘the great book of the world’, ‘honor’, ‘gain’ and ‘utility’, ‘art’, ‘talent’ and ‘practice’, ‘the true order’, the ‘natural method’, ‘clear and certain reasoning’, ‘natural characteristics’, ‘people of different natures’, ‘to explain the consequences from their causes’, ‘from which germs nature must generate them’, ‘the laws of nature’, ‘to 68 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. understand nature in such a way that one (...) can derive some rules that are more certain than those that have been applied so far’, ‘promoting the common good of all people’, ‘practical philosophy’ that is useful because it ‘derives from the power and workings (...) of all the bodies that surround us (...) provides knowledge’, ‘form’, ‘experience’, ‘natural judgement’, ‘purpose’, ‘reason by nature’, ‘convenience’, ‘uniting advantages’ and ‘excluding defects’ or ‘harmful rules’, the ‘laws of Nature’, ‘nature and power of disorders’, ‘the first causes’, ‘passions’, ‘favored by nature’. Schmitt 1973, p. 166; Van Berkel 1983A, p. 248 ff.; Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 114 et seq.). Verbeek 1979 speaks of Descartes’ ‘alternative to Aristotelian ideas’ (p. 16), or of Beeckman with whom he maintained contact as someone with an ‘un-Aristotelic idea’ (p. 19), or ‘opponent of Aristotle’ (p. 18). Vermij 1999, p. 85; Van Bunge 1999, pp. 297, 299; for Spinoza see Van Suchtelen 1979, pp. 5-6. Schmitt 1973, p. 164. Schmitt 1973, p. 165. Schmitt 1973, p. 166. Verbeek 1979, p. 113, n. 2 and p. 120, n. 5. Schmitt 1973, p. 174. Petrus Ramus (1515-1572) did not escape Aristotle either, writes Schmitt (1973, p. 175). He ‘never succeeded in getting rid of Aristotle’s basic logical unit, the syllogism’. For example, Spinoza writes in his Ethics, p. 126: ‘Maar mijn standpunt is als volgt: Niets geschiedt er in de Natuur dat aan een gebrek van haarzelf zou kunnen worden toegeschreven. De Natuur is immers steeds dezelfde, en overal ook zijn haar kracht en macht dezelfde, d.w.z. de wetten en regelen der natuur, volgens welke alles geschiedt en van de ene vorm in de andere overgaat, zijn altijd en overal dezelfde. Derhalve moet ook de aard van alle dingen, welke dan ook, uit éénzelfde beginsel worden verklaard, namelijk uit de algemeen geldige wetten en regelen van de natuur. Aandoeningen als haat, toorn, nijd enz. moeten dus, op zichzelf beschouwd, uit dezelfde noodwendigheid en dezelfde macht van de natuur voortvloeien als de overige bijzondere dingen; zij moeten dus bepaalde oorzaken hebben waaruit zij kunnen worden verklaard en bepaalde eigenschappen, die evenzeer onze kennisneming waard zijn als de eigenschappen van welk ander ding ook, welks beschouwing ons op zichzelf reeds genot schenkt’. [But my point of view is as follows: Nothing happens in Nature that could be attributed to a lack of herself. After all, Nature is always the same, and everywhere its strength and power are the same, i.e. the laws and regulations of nature, according to which everything happens and passes from one form to another, are always and everywhere the same. Therefore, the nature of all things, whatever they may be, must also be explained from one and the same principle, namely from the generally valid laws and regulations of nature. Afflictions such as hatred, wrath, envy, etc., must therefore, considered in themselves, derive from the same necessity and the same power of nature as other special things; they must therefore have certain causes from which they can be explained, and certain attributes which are as worthy of our knowledge as the attributes of any other thing which, considered in itself, gives us pleasure]. Dijksterhuis 1985, Hooykaas 1976; Cohen 1994. Schmitt 1973, p. 170. Schmitt 1973, p. 175. He speaks here about ‘the escape from the Aristotelian predicament’. ‘By this I mean that’, he explains, ‘though dissatisfaction with various aspects of the Peripatetic system began to emerge during the late Middle Ages, it took several centuries for thinkers to escape the domination of the system’. Van Bunge 1999, pp. 291-329. Schmitt 1973, p. 176; Van Berkel 1983A, p. 308. As in Wystentijt, Dialectike. Van Berkel 1979, 1983A. That all this has not yet really become established, not even in the history of science, may 69 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. be seen from the fact that Dear 1995, p. 3 gives a definition of natural philosophy: ‘Aristotelian physics (also called “natural philosophy”) was the qualitative science of the natural world that explained why things happen in terms of the essential natures of bodies’. Dijksterhuis 1985, p. 22. Dear 1995, p. 154. Yates 1988; Cohen 1994, pp. 264-294. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 44-45, 46-48). Idem Bacon (Van Bunge 1999, p. 294). Van Bunge 1999, p. 333. Vermij 1999, p. 38. This abundance of knowledge has been discussed several times before. See the introductions on Chapter 2, 3, and 4. Descartes constantly speaks of his doubt as the only certainty left from his education. On p. 4: ‘From an early age I have been proficient in literature, and since I had been told that I could learn in a clear and certain way everything that was useful in life, I was a very diligent pupil. However, when I was ready to be included in the ranks of scholars, I thought differently. Indeed, I had been overloaded with so many doubts and errors that my attempt to learn something seemed to have taken me no further than to have become more and more convinced of my ignorance’. And elsewhere, too, he constantly refers to his doubts about knowledge (e.g. pp. 70-72). This, and in particular the only certainty he derives from it (‘cogito, ergo sum’) has become absolute in the history of philosophy (disregarding the many traditional aspects in his work) as a completely new and revolutionary idea. By the way, Descartes later regretted this statement as ‘that this has become a summary of his philosophy’ (n. 4, p. 120). See below for the further fate of his thinking in Holland. Spinoza, for example, speaks extensively about the ignorance of people and their prejudices about Nature and their place in it. On p. 52 He writes, ‘En aangezien alle vooroordelen, die ik mij voorstel hier aan te wijzen, afhangen van dit éne: namelijk dat men gemeenlijk onderstelt dat alle dingen in de Natuur, evenals de mensen zelf, met een bedoeling handelen; jazelfs met beslistheid beweert dat God zelf alles bestiert met het oog op één bepaald doel (men zegt immers dat God alles terwille van de mensen heeft geschapen, de mens zelf echter opdat deze hem verere), zal ik dit vooroordeel eerst beschouwen en daartoe in de eerste plaats de oorzaak zoeken en waarom zovelen er zich bij neerleggen en allen van nature zozeer geneigd zijn het te aanvaarden’. [And since all the prejudices which I propose to point out here depend on this one: That is to say, that it is generally believed that all things in Nature, as well as men themselves, act with an intention; even if it is asserted with certainty that God himself controls everything for one particular purpose (it is said, after all, that God created everything for man’s sake, but man himself so that he may worship him), I will first consider this prejudice and seek the cause for it, and why so many accept it and all are naturally so inclined to accept it]. Van Bunge 1999, p. 333: Montaigne (1533-1592): ‘what do I actually know’; inciting Ramus and Bacon to formulate methods to control this sudden growth of knowledge. Descartes to his attempt to overcome doubt for good. Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 114); idem Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 44-45). Giard 1991, p. 27. Giard 1991, p. 27; Gilbert 1960. Giard 1991, p. 34. Yates 1988. Giard 1991, p. 27; Schmitt 1983, p. 177; Yates 1970 (pp. 255-274), 1978, 1988; Cohen 1994. Van Berkel 1983A, pp. 308-309. Huygens shows his reverence for those who ‘een voortreffelijke kritiek hebben geleverd op de zinloze ideeën, leerstellingen en axioma’s uit de Oudheid’ [offered (…) the most excellent criticism of the useless ideas, theorem, and axioms which (…) the ancients possessed] (quoted in Alpers 1983, p. 5). Dijksterhuis 1985, pp. 436-444 reports something 70 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96. 97. similar about Bacon. He criticized ‘the one-sided orientation of his learned contemporaries towards the literary heritage of antiquity (...). Bacon preferred the study of nature to the study of ancient texts, the experiment to the commentary’. Hooykaas 1976, pp. 124-127. Schmitt 1973, pp. 168, 178. Schmitt 1973, p. 178. Moreover, the relationship between the two aspects varies over time. Galilei makes his observations to test the truth of his mathematical analysis. It is only later that the experiment is done in order to track down a law of nature. (Dijksterhuis 1985, p. 380). Dear 1995, p. 3. Neal 1999, pp. 151-178. Bennett 1991, p. 185. Stevin, Wysentijt. Pumpfrey 1991B; Vanpaemel 1998; Schmitt 1973, p. 179. From Bunge 1999, pp. 336-344. See Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 42-43, 47, 57-58, 67); for Spinoza (Van Suchtelen 1979, p. 7). For Bacon, see Dijksterhuis 1985, pp. 436-444; Hooykaas 1976, pp. 124-127; Van Bunge 1999, p. 296; Vermij 1997, p. 69: Bacon developed a ‘natural history’. Bacon and Stevin have different aspects in common in their method (Dijksterhuis 1943, p. 323). For Bacon and Huygens see Alpers 1983, chapter 3. Bacon’s empirically inductive method of data collection was criticized by Descartes as a ‘haphazard’ collection. E.g. Grassi 1997, pp. 16-17; Dear 2001, p. 84. See e.g. Bor & Petersma 2000, pp. 243-248. Verbeek 1979, p. 120, n. 4 points out that Descartes later revoked this statement: ‘It is certain that Descartes later regretted this formulation, which in its Latin form (Cogito ergo sum) became a summary of his philosophy. The objection one may have is that it appears to be a syllogism with a concealed premise (‘everything that thinks, is’), the truth of which, however, as well as the validity of syllogism as a logical derivation rule by the general experiment of doubt, cannot be considered fixed’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 46). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 48). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 102). Dear 1995, p. 3. Dear 1995, p. 13, note 4: ‘Nothing, however, should be taken for granted regarding the precise terms used by seventeenth-century writers: the reader should try to suspend a sense of familiarity whenever a world like “experiment” appears in a quotation’. Dear 1995, p. 4. Roding 1991; DaCosta Kaufmann 1993; Zwijnenberg 1999. Van Berkel 1983A, p. 247 sees Drebbel as: ‘the best-known Dutch representative of the group “magical inventors”) as ‘the counterpart (...) of Simon Stevin’. Van Berkel substantiates his opinion by further mentioning that Drebbel had been apprenticed to Goltzius, not only to ‘learn the art of engraving’, but also to become acquainted with ‘alchemy’. But a little further on (p. 248) Van Berkel reports the opposite, without drawing a conclusion from it: ‘Beeckman regarded Drebbel as an ordinary engineer who made instruments that commanded respect and in which nothing was mysterious. The magical “decoration” of those instruments was irrelevant to Beeckman and he usually tacitly ignored them’. Zwijnenberg 1996, p. 8. Huygens (Kan 1971, p. 117). Dear 1995, p. 12. Smith 1999, p. 441. Shelby 1977; Parsons 1967; Ferguson 1992; Gies 1995; Bernal 1971. 71 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110. 111. 112. 113. 114. 115. 116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. Edgerton 1993, pp. 166, 151, 193, 179. Dear 1995, p. 9; Eamon 1994. Smith 1999. p. 443 points out the importance of practical knowledge in the curriculum of medicine on the basis of the practical training of the physician introduced by Franciscus dele Boë (Sylvius) in Leiden. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 106). Smith 1999, p. 460: ‘We can see the whole complex history of European attitudes to manual work and the increasing status of practical knowledge...’. Smith 1999, pp. 441-442. See Ramus (Van Berkel 1983, pp. 221, 261); Vives (Ferguson 1992, p. 130). Smith 1999, p. 459: ‘Paracelsus [ca.1493-1541] had claimed that the craftsperson was more attuned to nature than the scholar because he worked in natural materials to reform the world. In fact, he had explicated an epistemology that seems to have been based on artisanal modes of cognition and ways of operating on nature. Paracelsus made efforts to learn from those who worked with their hands; he queried and worked alongside peasants and artisans, questioned miners on their knowledge of diseases and remedies, and drank with peasants, gained knowledge of their wine making and distilling practices’. Stevin, Wysentijt, p. 43. Dijksterhuis 1985, pp. 436-444 (Bacon); Hooykaas 1976, pp. 124-127; Descartes (Verbeek 1979) pleads for all scholars to reveal their knowledge, so that everyone can continue to do so (pp. 98), he invites everyone (through his publisher) to criticize his work, and he promises to respond to it always briefly (pp. 108-109). Stevin. But so did Paracelsus, Smith 1999, p. 459; Descartes, writes in his vernacular language (French), pp. 110-111. Ferguson 1992, p. 132. Gies 1995; Ferguson 1992. Bennett 1991, p. 179. See in this context also Stevin’s writing Havenvindingen. Vitruvius (Peters 1997, p. 272). The terms are from Vitruvius, chapter 10. According to Dales, quoted in Gies 1994, p. 228. For an overview of the Greek-antique, the Arabic (especially of Al-Kindi in the ninth century and Alhazen in the tenth century) and the European interest from the twelfth century onwards in optics and the linking of anatomical, natural philosophical and mathematical knowledge, see Lindberg 1976. Gies 1995, p. 229; Van Oostrom 1996. Gies 1995, pp. 229-230; Stoffers 1994. Bennett 1991, p. 178 mentions Regiomontanus, Gemma Frisius, Tycho Brache and Mercator. Bennett 1991, p. 182. Ferguson 1992, p. 58. Van Eck & Zwijnenberg 1996. Van Berkel 1983A, p. 263 speaks of ‘an increase in the status of the “mechanical arts”’. Shapin 1997, p. 277. He points out that in the middle of the seventeenth century the word is not yet commonplace in England. Shapin 1997, pp. 277, 278. Hannaway 1997, pp. 37-39. Hannaway 1997, pp. 41-51; Roding 1991. Dear 1997. Shapin confirms this, p. 278: ‘But by far the most significant venues were the private residences of gentlemen or, at any rate, sites where places of scientific work were coextensive with places of residence, whether owned or rented’. Shapin then discusses the laboratories of Robert Boyle (in each of his three houses, 1645-1655) and his assistant 72 127. 128. 129. 130. 131. 132. 133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. Robert Hooke (died 1703). The latter carried out his experiments in his house, a place where he worked; and he was also a public figure. Smith 1999, p. 427. Smith 1999, p. 423. Smith 1999, p. 457. Smith 1999, p. 436 Quoted in Hannaway 1997, p. 59. Shapin 1997, p. 278. Smith 1999, p. 460 on the other hand, puts a different emphasis by assuming separate ranges of knowledge that converge in the seventeenth century in the new philosopher: ‘The new philosophy had important routs in the intellectual and material exchange between scholars and artisans in the sixteenth and seventeenth century. Those who worked with their minds and those who practiced with their hands began to have the same concerns’. Smith 1999, pp. 430-431. Smith 1999, pp. 435-436. Smith 1999, p. 459. Shapin 1997, p. 295: ‘For the most part, Boyle’s host of “Laborants”, “operators”, “assistants” and “chemical servants” were invisible actors. They were not a part of the relevant experimental public. They made the machines work, but they could not make knowledge’. Cohen 1994, p. 509. Cohen mentions five key points (1994, p. 509): ‘One was the urge for a very accurate observation of given phenomena of nature. This expressed itself primarily in geographical, botanical, and anatomical description, but it came also to the fore as an enrichment of traditional astronomy (...). Another kernel was the application of mathematics to concerns of renaissance artists. Third there was an uncommonly positive valuation of manual labor, expressing itself in (1) some guidance gained in the world of empirical technology toward the solution of specific theoretical problems, (2) hopes that in the domain of the artisan a reform of science might take its origin, and (3) a new boost for alchemical theory and practice. A fourth kernel was formed by the elevation of magical notions from a conjuring business to a lofty plane of abstract insight into three layers of ultimate reality, and of how these might be put to use for human ends. A fifth, closely related kernel resided in the rise of iatrochemistry’. By the latter is meant pharmacy: the research and use of natural substances as medicines in disease. Cohen 1994, p. 510 links the turnaround to Copernicus’ hypothesis. The question is then what could have been the cause of this. For example, Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 100) concludes: ‘The extent to which I will progress in the knowledge of nature therefore depends on the extent to which I will be able to do experiments’. Dear 1995, p. 12. Dear 1995, p. 13: ‘How we see things is strongly conditioned by the mental categories that we bring to our perceptions’. Dear underlines that this is not so much about individual, but collective mental categories. Dear 1995, p. 13. Edgerton 1993 talks about ‘visual thinking’ (p. 169), ‘revolutionary visual thinking’ (p. 173), ‘the sixteenth-century perceptual revolution’ (p. 178), ‘how visual perception had changed in late sixteenth-century Europe’ (p. 187). Edgerton 1993: ‘the mind’s-eye’ (p. 151), ‘inquisitive eyes’, ‘visual thinking’ (p. 192); Ferguson 1992, ‘the mind’s eye’, ‘visual thinking’ (p. 41), ‘visual thought’ (p. 47). Edgerton 1993, p. 148. Zwijnenberg 1999, p. 35. 73 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166. Zwijnenberg 1999, p. 40: ‘Only through measurement can we acquire knowledge of the material world surrounding us’. Giard 1991, p. 28. Giard 1991, p. 29: ‘... the image itself was becoming an object of research, leading to the codification of perspective geometry, whose definition of planes and vanishing points ensured a readability, precision and complexity previously unattainable’. Giard 1991, p. 28: ‘Thanks to its combination with wood engravings, and later copperplate, printing brought a second decisive change, by giving a cognitive role to illustrations’. Edgerton 1993, p. 149: ‘Whatever the intended readership, these treatises came to be illustrated with woodcuts and engravings of the highest quality, in which the conventions we have been speaking about were at last assumed to be universally understandable’. Edgerton 1993, p. 149: ‘Also notable was how well the illustrations accorded informationally with the message of the words’. Giard 1991, p. 31: ‘The discourse of words finds an answer in that of the image, in a series of visual prompts which participate in the construction of meaning. The eye learns to move between two systems of signs, images are now an integral part of a knowledge which language alone can no longer contain. A visual translation into charts, tables and illustrations had seemingly become indispensable in order to memorize and order knowledge’. Giard 1991, p. 25. See sections 2.1.4, 2.2.1, 2.2.3, 4.1.1 and 5.1.1. Edgerton 1993, p. 179: ‘to depict their ideas’. Giard 1991, p. 28: ‘From being secondary and an embellishment, the image became significant and primary because it now guaranteed its own invariability, fixed by the engraved plate on to every copy of the work, overturning the previous method of transmission’; Edgerton 1993, p. 173: ‘exactly repeatable prints’. Edgerton 1993, p. 187: ‘built according to the scale of the similar specifications of his excellent rendering’. ‘There was a delicate balance in medieval theology between the rationality of God’s intellect and His absolute freedom in exercising his power and will. Theologians like Thomas Aquinas who emphasized God’s rationality were more inclined to accept elements of necessity in the creation than those like William of Ockham who emphasized His absolute freedom and concluded that the world is utterly contingent. In the seventeenth century, natural philosophers appropriated these ideas about God’s relationship to the creation and translated them into views about the metaphysical and epistemological status of human knowledge and the laws of nature’ (Osler 1998). Osler 1998, p. 104. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 103): ‘Nor has it ever occurred to me that through the disputes that are held in schools one has ever discovered one truth that one did not know before’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 49): ‘It seemed to me that I would be more likely to find truth in what people think about what is important to them, and where it soon turns out – and sometimes to their misfortune – whether they were right, than in the thoughts that a book scholar forms in his study about all sorts of abstract matters that lead to no actual consequence, or it should be that he becomes even more vain, because, the further his ideas are away from common sense, more perspicacity and more tricks are required to make them probable’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 56): ‘... But when I examined them, I discovered that the syllogisms and most other rules of logic serve more to explain to others what one knows or even, as in Lullic art, to talk without reason about what one does not know, than to gain new knowledge’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 110): ‘The fact that I continue to write in French, which is the 74 167. 168. 169. 170. 171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. language of my country, and not in Latin, which is the language of my teachers, has only to do with the fact that I hope that those who rely only on reason, which is naturally given to them in all its purity, will be better able to judge my views than those who merely believe what is written in old books’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 48): ‘Finally, as far as the occult sciences are concerned, I thought I already knew enough about them to judge what they were worth, so that neither an alchemist with his promises, nor an astrologer with his predictions; neither the deceptive arts of a magician, nor the cunning or the boast of those who claim to know more than is actually the case, can deceive me’. ‘... Then he [God] would do nothing but provide nature with his ordinary assistance, that is to say, make it work according to the laws which he has established’, Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 79-80). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 98-99): ‘First of all, I have generally tried to discover the principles or first causes of everything that is, or can be, in the world, without presupposing anything other than God alone who created the world, or basing myself on anything other than certain sprouts of truth as they are naturally present in our souls. Then I looked for the first and most obvious consequences that can be inferred from these causes: in this way, it seems to me, I have come to heavens, stars and an earth, and even, on earth, to water, air, fire, solids and so on, which is the most common and the simplest of all, and therefore the easiest to know’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 51). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 110-111): ‘And as for those who have common sense and the will to learn – and they are the only ones I wish for as judges – they will certainly not be so partial to Latin that, simply because I speak in the vernacular, they will refuse to hear my arguments’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 110): ‘Well, that the only reason I have taken them [the thoughts] for true has not been that the same has been claimed by others, or that the same has never been claimed by others, but only that it has been dictated to me by reason’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 42): ‘Nothing in the world is as equitably distributed as common sense’, idem p. 65. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 80): ‘Deliberately, I omitted everything that had anything to do with the forms or qualities discussed in school philosophy, and, in general, assumed only that which we know so well by nature that one cannot even pretend not to know about it’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 74): ‘... In addition, the eye is not the inferior of the nose or of the ear when it comes to guaranteeing the truth of its object, when neither our imagination nor our senses could ever teach us anything with certainty without the intervention of reason’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 90-91): ‘How the light, how sounds, smells, tastes, warmth and all the other properties of things from the outside world can imprint different depictions in them through the intervention of the senses; how hunger and thirst and how all disorders can also send them in their depictions; what is to be understood from the point of view of the brain by sensory organ where all these depictions are received; what is to be understood by the memory that it keeps and the imagination that it can change and form new ones in all kinds of ways’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 75): ‘For how do we know that the depictions that occur in the dream are less true than the others? After all, they are often no less lively and clear’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 76). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 76). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 76). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 69-70). 75 182. 183. 184. 185. 186. 187. 188. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. 194. 195. 196. 197. 198. 199. 200. 201. 202. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 74). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 74). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 76). Alpers 1983, Chapters 2 and 3. On pp. 22, Alpers notes: ‘’How can we define the identity of things in the world when they are seen as so variable size? Can we trust our eyes? (…) Huygens’s delight in the unresolvable question of size means that he accepts the fact that in making an image our sight plays tricks. To accept the deception of sight, and sight itself as a useful artifice is, paradoxically, a condition of his single-minded concentration on sight and things seen. This surfaces particularly in his attention to the question of the truthfulness of lifelike images’. And on page 23 she writes: ‘The concern with the nature of this image is part of a continuing concern with the truth of images. The instance of a real-looking, but still in some aspects false, representation is situated right on the borderline between reality and artifice, which, on the evidence of their eye-fooling pictures, intrigued the Dutch. Far from minimizing the importance of images, it suggests how much they depend on them’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 58). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 46-47): ‘I had a great appreciation for eloquence and was fond of poetry, but I thought that both were a gift rather than a gift to be acquired through study: those who think clearly and present their ideas in an orderly way so that one clearly understands their intention always succeed in winning others over to their views, even if their speech was not cultivated and they had never heard of the rules of eloquence’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 58). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 67). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 51-52). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 53). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 61). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 51, 53). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 63). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 53, 56, 106). Luijten 1996B II, p. 88 points to the long tradition: ‘The opinion that images and metaphors are the most direct and penetrating way to show man the – divine – truth is of all times and can be traced back to the classics, the church fathers and proclaimed by, among others, the fifteenth-century neoplatonists’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 59). Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 73-74). Note from the translator: Kant called this the ontological proof of God, i.e. to deduce existence from essence (being), but this dates back to the 11th century. From Bunge 1999. Stansfield Eastwood 1997. Quoted in Stansfield Eastwood 1997, p. 159. He adds: '’t is a work of education – not just a manual of technical instructions – for makers of lenses’. This implies that Descartes does not presuppose any prior knowledge. According to Stansfield Eastwood 1997, pp. 159-160 which gives a further explanation of this phrase. Stansfield Eastwood 1997, pp. 161-162: ‘The nature of the diagram is subtle but important. Up to the point where Descartes is ready to discard the tennis ball and to speak only of refracted light his diagrams have all been specific images of his analogues for light: a vat of grapes, a candle, a tennis player with racket and ball, a riverbank with a river’s surface (see Figs. 2 and 3 [bp.5.8.2]). But with the transition to a description fully appropriate to light, Descartes exhausts the analogue of the ball and ceases using visually suggestive images. In both words and images, Descartes says that tennis balls are only analogues and introductions to light. The diagrams for tennis balls are geometrically but not simply geometry, while the remaining diagrams in the second discourse, which refer directly to 76 203. 204. 205. 206. 207. 208. 209. 210. 211. 212. light and not to its analogues, are simply geometrical figures. Thus, the limitations of the analogues, recalled as much by the diagrammatic images as by the text, no longer apply’. Stansfield Eastwood 1997, p. 160: ‘In order to say the minimum needed about the mechanics of light, Descartes first tutors the reader to conceive of direct, reflected, and refracted transmissions in the most ordinary situations: in air, on level surfaces, or across common media such as water or glass. He then uses already structured complex situations, such as the tennis ball crossing two media, and takes from the complex as little as possible, suing only those elements he needs to expound what is happening. Thus, in a very real sense, the notion of light imparted here by Descartes is little more than a carefully delimited and only partially explained notion of how a cane or wine or a tennis ball acts’. As Baxandall 1986, p. 40 has made clear. Gilbert 1960. For example, Luijten 1996B II, p. 88 notes: ‘The emblem-user Cats provides a representation of abstract, ethical and religious concepts based on similarities in reality. The concepts are reduced to revelations within recognizable actions and occurrences in everyday life and behaviour within the animal world. (...) Cats tries to persuade the reader to accept the insights provided by the analogies’. Cats, ADW I, p. 591. In contrast, Giard 1991 states, p. 31: ‘Nowhere is the key signifying role attributed to the image more apparent than in the emblem book whose large-scale production and dissemination were again made possible by printing. (...) Here the image is king. It speaks and makes sense, while the secondary, illustrative role now goes to the text which accompanies it. Eye and spirit engage in extraordinary mental gymnastics, an incessant coming and going between twin registers of signs: figures and words’. ‘Een ambacht heeft een gulden bodem’ [A craft has a golden soil] and ‘Wie een ambacht geeft geleerd, krijgt de kost waar hij verkeert’ [Those who have learned a craft get paid wherever they go], says Cats (ADW I, p. 602). Smith 1999, p. 459. Van Berkel 1983A, p. 309. on pp. 318-319 he he summarizes his opinion: ‘Ramism influenced Beeckman in two ways. In the first place, it was the ideology of the mechanical arts and sciences. Ramism provided Beeckman with the arguments for using a way of thinking characteristic of the mechanical arts in natural philosophy discourse. Ramism was the philosophical authorization for a “technological” world view. In the second place, Ramus’ dialectic and rhetoric, with their stress on simplicity, clearness and “common sense” argumentation, stimulated Beeckman to make “picturability” a main demarcation criterion in science: he only wanted to accept concepts which could be given a picturable representation. The visualistic and even mechanistic tendency in Ramist dialectic reinforced the technological character of Beeckmans’s world view (...). Through Descartes, Beeckman influenced the whole course of natural science in the seventeenth century. (..) Around 1600, a fierce natural philosophical debate was going on between Aristotelianism and Neo-platonism; Beeckman’s mechanicism, viewed as a philosophy of “picturability”, became an alternative to both these philosophies. Descartes became the best-known mechanicist. At the same time, the mathematical sciences emancipated from natural philosophy. In the work of Galileo and Mersenne an a-philosophical, “positivistic” tradition was developed, which drew its inspiration mainly from the science of mechanics. At first sight, mechanicism and mechanics were in close harmony, but this appeared to be mere coincidence. Mechanics could only be in harmony with mechanicism as long as the basic concepts of mechanics were “picturable”. Once Newton had developed his “nonpicturable” concept of force, this superficial harmony between mechanics and mechanicism was to collapse’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, p. 110). 77 213. 214. 215. 216. 217. 218. 219. 220. 221. 222. 223. 224. 225. 226. 227. 228. 229. 230. 231. Ong 1974 confirms that the visualization of knowledge has been demonstrable since the 13th century (Van Berkel 1983A, p. 265). Ferguson 1992, p. 65; Shelby 1977, 1979; Rykwert 1984; Goldstream 1992; Gies 1995, pp. 253-254. Gies 1995, pp. 253-254. Baxandall 1986, pp. 39-42. Quoted in Zwijnenburg 1999, p. 45. Luijten 1996B II, p. 88; Yates 1988. Ferguson 1992. Zwijnenberg 1999, p. 29 points to the same thing when he writes that ‘... people do not think with their hands’, because ‘the intellect of a painter certainly thinks in his or her hands’. Ferguson 1992, p. 115. Ferguson 1992, p. 120: ‘Nevertheless, nearly every one of Ramelli’s machines, however elaborate or extravagant, has been put in some use in succeeding centuries.’ Eisenstein 1979, pp. 520-521. Stevin, PWS I. Alpers 1983; Smith 1999, p. 423. See Smith 1999, ‘The five senses and the crisis of knowledge’, p. 439; Smith 1999, p. 441: ‘Distrust of the senses, widespread in antiquity, became a matter of great importance in the institutionalization of the experimental philosophy in which Sylvius was a leader’. Smith 1999, p. 440 explains her section "The Five Senses and the Crisis of Knowledge" by reference to the five senses (common in the Dutch 17th century), namely the series of the five paintings by Jan Miense Molenaer (1637) that were in present in the dining room of Sylvius dele Boë: ‘Molenaer’s paintings point to the problematic side of the senses. Hearing and Taste represent the dangerously seductive and fleeting pleasures of the world; Smell warns of the carnal body – “this body, what is it but stink and dung?” – while Touch shows the harmful contentiousness that can break out between husband and wife. The man peering at the bottum of his wine jug – Sight in Molenaer’s series – symbolizes avarice, the uncontrollable desire to accumulate material things’. Van Bunge 1999, p. 317: ‘The breakthrough of the mechanistic worldview and the introduction of mathematical-mechanistic models was in any case a farewell to a representation of natural phenomena that was in keeping with everyday experiences, as Aristotelianism had still offered it. The world now being studied by modern physicists was no longer the sublunar and qualitatively ordered space, filled with natural substances, in which he also lived. The Cartesian natural philosopher was henceforth concerned with the formulation of a strictly theoretical construction that had little or nothing in common with the intuitions of everyday life: in reality, his apples were not red, and we don’t really know what we are saying when we call a pear “sweet”’. Smith 1999, p. 460 says about their ‘common “epistemology”’: ‘their ability to create was based on an imitation of nature, gained through engaging with nature and matter through their senses and even their entire bodies’. Smith 1999, p. 460, n. 63 confirms this for the incorporation of the artisanal form of knowledge into the new philosophy of nature: ‘an incorporation that was neither linear nor self-evident and at times encountered serious resistance’. Smith 1999, p. 460: ‘The central principle of both the work of the fijnschilders and of Sylvius’ theories and practice of chemical medicine was the imitation of nature by manually engaging with matter. We can see this ideal of active knowledge in Sylvius’ clinical teaching and his anatomies and vivisections, and we can see it as well in the art theorist van Hoogstraeten’s conviction that, through the imitation of nature, painters come to know nature’. Smith 1999, p. 429: ‘Practitioners in both professions claimed to combine practice and 78 232. 233. 234. 235. 236. 237. 238. 239. 240. 241. 242. 243. 244. 245. 246. 247. 248. theory, and both relied upon their senses, especially vision, and upon manual experience in the practice of their craft. Both were immersed in the material world. Moreover, by the mid-seventeenth century, painters often mixed with medical practioners, attending public anatomy lessons and producing such paintings as the Dead Adonis by Hendrik Goltzius that hung in Sylvius’ salon’. ‘Not that the science of antiquity, or that of the Middle Ages, was devoid of systematic observation or even instruments’, Hannaway remarks (1997, pp. 37-39), ‘but the emphasis placed upon this kind of activity was one of the hallmarks of the new science that emerged in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. With this emphasis there came a shift in the meaning of science itself: science no longer was simply a kind of knowledge (one possessed scientia); it increasingly became a form of activity (one did science)’. Van Helden 1997. The debate among specialists includes the question whether the use of lenses in science around 1600 meant that before – lenses had been used by craftsmen for centuries – should now be interpreted (Ronchi 1957) or not (Lindberg 1976, Stenech 1972) as a distrust of visual perception. Vermij 1999, p. 91 points out that many new astronomical observations are made after 1650, such as by Christiaan Huygens. He writes: ‘The binoculars of Galilei were the first example of an instrument that increased the view of reality (...) Other instruments were available, but it was only in the second half of the seventeenth century, under the influence of mechanical philosophy, that the possibilities such instruments had for nature research were fully realized. (...) The telescope was also further adapted, making precision measurements possible’; Van Bunge 1999, p. 287 speaks of ‘the growing importance of craftsmen, particularly instrument makers, for the performance of scientific experiments’. Alpers 1983, who refers to the European visual culture for the early modern era, considers the Dutch variant to be a special modality of it. Boschloo 1989; Van den Heuvel 1991; Dear 2001. The royal approval thus came afterwards, writes Dear 2001, 117-118. That goal was soon abandoned in the Royal Society writes Ferguson 1992, p. 133 (it was too laborious), although English science remains marked by a strong empirical bias. See Hutchison 1997. Christian Huygens visited the Royal Academy several times, especially his remarkable relationship with Isaac Newton (of peasant descent) is known (Romein 1977, pp. 419-421). Reinier de Graaf first of all corresponded with scholars of the Royal Society, offering his discoveries (Lindeboom 1973). Van Hoogstraten stayed in London during the period 16621667, where he maintained contacts with members of the Royal Society. For one of them, Thomas Povey, he painted his Perspective from a Threshold (1662). See Brusati 1995, pp. 91-93 and p. 224 for the substantive relationship. Dear 2001, pp. 113-118; Burke 1991. Dear 2001, p. 116 refers to the following statement by Huygens in 1666: ‘the principal occupation of the Assembly and the most useful must be, in my opinion, to work in natural history somewhat in the mannen suggested by [Lord] Verulam [i.e. Francis Bacon]’. Ferguson 1992, pp. 133-134. Ferguson 1992, pp. 133-135. See also Grootes 1980A. Foucault 2000. Versteegh 1997. Wachters-van der Grinten 1996; Hoogland 1997. Wachters-van der Grinten 1996; Wigoder 1994. Edgerton 1993, p. 148. Kempers 1987, p. 346: ‘That is why it is so important to indicate the context of works of art; only then can the meanings be ascertained, and can works of art subsequently be used as sources for the social relationships in which artists found themselves’. 79 249. 250. 251. 252. 253. 254. 255. 256. 257. 258. 259. 260. 261. 262. 263. 264. E.g. Chartier 1989, p. 526: ‘In the latter case, the kingdom of France turned out to be strongly privileged, as is self-evident for a book written by French historians or specialists in French history. But precisely in its coherence, this choice also has its justification. The France of the Ancien Régime was indeed profoundly affected by three fundamental developments which, in the modern era, redrew the boundaries between public and private. Of all the European states, the French monarchy is the most perfect example and the purest form of an absolutist state, moving towards a judicial and fiscal monopoly, seeking to pacify and standardize the social space, and taking form out of society and civilization at court. Moreover, France is a country of confessional diversity and, of course, in an unequal distribution, knows the results of two reforms, that of Protestants and that of Catholics, both of whom are seeking new ways of living and expressing their faith with their own nuances. Finally, French society in the period between the 16th and 18th centuries became acquainted with the written word, its decipherment and its application. This does happen in a situation with an unmistakable cultural dichotomy that more or less reflects that which divides the West, where the North and North-West European regions with England, the Netherlands, Flanders, the Rhine region, which have a strong literacy at an early stage, distinguish themselves from Southern Europe, which remained illiterate for a long time. To broach the history of personal life in the modern era with the French situation as a privileged starting point is therefore well-founded, because the most important factors that determine the private sphere in an entirely new way can be observed in their entirety and with all their variations’. Giard 1991; Rossi 1991. Term describing the exchange, implementation of concepts, or even cognitive systems from one layer of the population (elite) to another (folk people, farmers). Frijhoff 1992B, p. 11 describes ‘cultural intermediaries’ or ‘brokers of words and ideas’ as follows: ‘Functional brokers who are paid to translate messages from one cognitive system to another, such as notaries, writers, priests, pastors, educators, journalists and all those appointed to encode or decode symbols, such as a herald of arms or an illustrator; but also unpaid or involuntary brokers, such as the so numerous servants, migrants and hawkers during the early modern period’. Vovelle 1985, pp. 126-141; Rooijakkers 1994; Van den Brink 1996A, B, C. Kempers 1987; Hendrix & Stumpel 1996; Huussen jr. & Kempers 1994; Baxandall 1986. DaCosta Kaufmann 1993, 1997 and 1999; Zwijnenberg 1999; Edgerton 1993. DaCosta Kaufmann 1999. Blunt 1999; Keblusek & Zijlmans 1997. Hannaway 1997, p. 40. See Roding 1993, Smith 1999. Ariès 1989. Stevin, for example, dedicates his Weeghconst [The Art of Weighing], (PWS I, p. 54) to Rudolf II. Ferguson 1992, p. 120. Kempers 1987, p. 345. Lukacs 1970, pp. 616-630. Romein-Verschoor 1939, pp. 6-17 (reprint in PWS V); Dijksterhuis 1943, pp. 277-280; Van Berkel 1990C; Struik 1979 and recently Den Boer 2001. Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, p. 25). Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 195): ‘Burgher is zo ghenaamt na een burgh of veste, dit meynt een Stede daar veel menschen huer stede of vaste plaatse nemen die, alzo stadelyck stede houdende binnen den burght, Burghers werden ghenaamt. (...) Der Burgheren bestiering des burchts werdt ghenaamt burgherlyke wysheyd. Deze heeft hare wercking inde bestiering van burghen, steden, landen en luyden’ [Burgher was so named after a fortress or stronghold, that is, a Town where many people have their houses or fixed places, so that those who steadfastly keep their houses within the fortress were called Burghers. (...) The 80 265. 266. 267. 268. 269. 270. 271. 272. 273. 274. 275. 276. 277. 278. 279. ruling by burghers of the fortress was called burgher wisdom. (...) This has its effect in the government of castles, towns, countries and people’. Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, p. 45). Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, p. 45). Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, p. 26). Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, p. 149) gives two meanings to ‘justice’: 1) what is legal; 2) what is equal. A slave as a slave has no rights, as an unfree one it is a living instrument of his master; but for the slave as a human being friendship is possible. This ancient context may explain that in the seventeenth century several authors defend that the woman is not a slave (Cats, Grotius). Aristotle, (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, p. 56, 1103 b 3-4). Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, pp. 25-26) distinguishes between the city laws, the natural laws (the eternally unchangeable rules that everyone is used to) and the divine laws (which concern religious matters). Aristotle, (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, p. 52): ‘The true statesman, it is believed, is versed in excellence more than in anything else. For it is his intention to make his fellow citizens good men and to make them obey the laws’. Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 196). Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, pp. 41-42). Aristotle says something similar (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, p. 261): ‘A king’s friendship for his subjects rests on the fact that he does more favors than he receives. Indeed, a king proves favors to his subjects when he is good and ensures that they are well off (like shepherd over his sheep, or like a father over sons; authority of father over children, like king over subjects, is given by nature)’. Idem Van Mander: ‘s ’Wets ordinancy is om de Lieden/ Maer niet het volck om de Wet te behoeden’ [The Regulation of the Law is to Protect the People/ Not the People to Protect the Law], quoted in Emmens 1964, p. 97 and p. 138. Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 196); Stevin 1649, p. 20 (‘een wreedtaerdig Vorst’ [a cruel Sovereign]); Alberti (Chapter 5, Preface). Aristotle, (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, pp. 259260): ‘The different form of kingship is tyranny. Indeed, these are both forms of autocratic rule, but the difference between them is very great: a tyrant is only after his own benefit, while a king has the interest of his subjects in mind. After all, someone cannot be king if he is not completely independent, and better provided with every good than his subjects. But such a person needs nothing more, and therefore he will not have his own interests in mind but those of his subjects. For he who does not possess these qualities will be king in name only. Tyranny is exactly the opposite: a tyrant seeks his own interests’. See sections 3.1.1, 3.2.1 and 3.2.2. Rybczynski 1986, pp. 70-72; Hollander 1990; Frijhoff & Spies 1999, p. 190: ‘For the early modern age, almost every form of social stratification is more or less unconsciously based on the primacy of the man in public space. Women at most emerge as mistresses of the private space, the household. They are presented as guardians of a new homeliness and the moralization of family life that goes with it’. Bertels 1973, p. 238. Maclean 1980, p. 25. Kelso 1956, p. 267. Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 187) also speaks in this sense: ‘Want de vader is zyne kinderen predikant ende schoolmeester, henluyden moet hy inder juecht leeren ‘tgheen zy zullen inde ouderdom hanteren. Daar beneden zal hy allen vlyte anwenden dat zy niet een onnutte last, maar vruchtbare ledekens moghen werden voort ghemeen best, om daar gheen onvruchtbare wespen, maar oorbaarlycke beykens te broeden ende te voeden’ [For the father is minister and schoolmaster to his children; he must teach them in youth what they will handle when they are older. Among these is that he shall employ all diligence that they may not become a useless burden, but fruitful people for the common good, that is, to breed 81 280. 281. 282. 283. 284. 285. 286. 287. 288. 289. 290. 291. 292. 293. 294. 295. and feed not barren wasps, but useful bees]. Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 182) speaks ‘een kunste van wel huyshouden, twelck gheen kleyne wysheyd is. De stof daar inne zy haar kunste ghebruyckt ist huysghezinde. Het eynde is streckende dat het zelve na elx waarde wyslyck beleet* [geleid] werde’ [an art of good housekeeping, which is no small wisdom. The fabric in which this art is used is the housefamily. The aim is that the family should be led wisely according to each person’s value]. Cats, ADW I, p. 601. Coornhert (Becker 1942, pp. 185-186 resp. p. 191) says something similar about the master (‘Daarom moet zyn ooghe daar op zyn dat, gelyck hy gheen eerlyck ghewin en verzuymt daar hyze magh bekomen, alzo mede niet en laat verdoen in zynen huyze boven noodurft na zynen state, maar altyd eer wat minder, met afsnoeying van alle onnodighe kosten, om zulx zelfs ter nood te moghen verteren met zynen ghezinde ...’ [Therefore, his eye should be on this that, just as he neglects no honest gain where he can get it, neither should he go in his house above the needs that befit his state of being, but always rather a little less, cutting off all unnecessary expenses, in order to be allowed to use it in an emergency with his family]) and the mistress of the house (‘Haar omzichtigh ooghe is over ‘tgansche huys, zo datter niet en werdt verslort, maar alles ten oorbaar ghebracht’ [Her meticulous eye wanders over the whole house, so that nothing is wasted, but everything is put to use]. Hannaway 1997, p. 63. Van der Woude 2000D, p. 418 points out that the term ‘industrious revolution’ comes from the economic historian Jan de Vries to describe ‘the collective effort of European (and later also American) households’ and is based on a Japanese term to describe the specific productivity of the Japanese economy. Van der Woude 2000D, p. 418. Pumpfrey 1991; Dear 1995, 1997, 2001; Martin 1991; Slawinski 1991. Van Oostrom 1996, ‘Kennis en ethiek’ [Knowledge and ethics], pp. 151-303. For the rules (posture, standing, walking and sitting for children, the table rules) described by Erasmus, see Bremmer 1993. Bremmer 1993, p. 38; Revel 1989, pp. 148, 159. In spite of this, however, one remains unabated in Elias’ representation of things. Burke 1995. For Stevin, see Chapter 2; For Van Hoogstraten, see Chapter 4. Hooykaas 1976, pp. 124, 127; Close 1971; Ferguson 1992, p. 132: Bacon’s ‘grand scheme to enhance “the power and greatness of man” through a new and practical science. As part of a comprehensive plan, Bacon called for a series of “natural histories of trades”, intended to study each craft in turn, to describe tools, techniques, and processes, and to make public the technical information that had for so long ben known only in workshops’. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 96-97). Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 196): ‘Int wel bestieren vant ghemeen beste toont zich de wysheyd alderbest, zonder de welcke gheen menschelyck ghezelschappe en magh bevoochdert worden. ‘t Ghemeen beste is een staat ende beleding des Stads te onderhouden, staande inde bestiering der zake’ [In the good government of the commonwealth, wisdom shows itself to be the very best, without which no human community may be ruled. The Commonwealth is a state and the leadership to maintain the Town, consisting in the running of the affairs]. Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 196): ‘int huysghezinde heeft de huysvader een konincklyk ghebied over zyne kinderen ende slaven, zo dat tusschen vader ende kind, heer ende slave de voorsz. gelyckheyd niet en magh wezen’ [in the household the house-father has a royal power over his children and slaves, so that between father and child, master and slave the aforementioned equality is not there]. Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, pp. 30-32) (to which he adds ‘Staetvorsten’: the 82 296. 297. 298. 299. 300. 301. 302. 303. 304. 305. monarchy working together with a state). Coornhert (Becker 1942, p. 196) mentions the same three forms in which a good commonwealth occurs: ‘te weten als een Koning, of als eenighe vande voorbarighste, of als ‘tvolck rechtvaardelyck ende bequamelyck ‘tghemeen ghoed ten ghemeenen oorbaar bedienen’ [namely, as King, or as one of the principal ones, or as the people justly and appropriately carry out the common good for the behalf of the general welfare]. Pannier & Verhaege 1999 note, p. 260, note 21 that according to Aristotle, the forms of government are derived from family structures. Cats also refers several times to a work by the Huguenot and lawyer Jean Bodin (1529/301596), De la république (French edition 1576, 1586 Latin edition), in which Aristotelian thought is systematically revived. See Vloemans 1971, pp. 143-149. See also Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 61-62); Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939), pp. 27, 44, 47, 51, 58. Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, p. 58): ‘anghesien dattet de onvernuftige dieren verstaen/ als biën/ mieren/ oyevaers/ ende ontellicke ander; welcke/ om in een versaem wesen te blyven/ haer tot eenighe ghemeene reghelen begheven/ elck nae sijn aert. Daer om hem by een ghemeente te willen voughen/ sonder sich te schicken na den staet die het lant ghecreghen heeft/ tis grover dan beestelick misverstant’ [since there are unwise animals/ such as bees/ ants/ stork/ and countless others; who/ to remain in a united whole/ follow some general rules/ each according to his nature. Therefore, to want to join a community/ without conforming to the societal state of the land/ that is more rude than a bestial misunderstanding]. See Vives, Coornhert, but also Spinoza and Bodin. Van Bunge 1999, p. 330 notes the same commonplace: ‘The starting point of de la Courts was simple: each state consists of a collection of individuals, whose behavior is determined by their passions. A stable state is a state in which an equilibrium, a balance has been found between these passions. Emphasis on man’s innate selfishness, his urge for self-preservation, the contractual transition from a natural to a civil state, and the consequent need to grant absolute sovereignty to the ruler within the state’. And further on, pp. 330-331: ‘De la Court: that man, in his transition from the natural state to civil society, had indeed transferred his sovereignty to the state, but not “zijn recht of macht om te geloven ‘t geen hem waarachtig schijnt te wezen” [his right or power to believe that which appears to him to be true]. Moreover, because it would be cruel “iets te gebieden, dat men weet niet gehoorzaamd te kunnen worden” [to command something, which one knows cannot be obeyed], it was clear “dat de overheid volgens de wetten der natuur gehouden is, vrijheid voor de conscientie en ‘t geweten te laten...” [that, according to the laws of nature, the government is bound to leave freedom to consciousness and conscience]. Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, pp. 35-40). Pannier & Verhaege 1999, p. 23. Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, p. 49). Aristotle writes e.g. about a proud person (Pannier & Verhaeghe 1999, p. 123): ‘As is well known, a proud man is one who has high ambitions and indeed also great merits. Indeed, one who has them without the corresponding merits is a fool, and no excellent person is foolish or not in his right mind’ and a little further on: ‘Because a proud person has the greatest merits, he must be the most excellent. He who is better always has greater merits, and he who is best has the greatest merits’. Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaeghe 1999, p. 264). Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaege, pp. 161-162, n. 41): The difference is that the woman does not have the same rights as the (male) citizens. In principle, the man is superior to his wife. Nevertheless, he will deal with her in a manner appropriate between free and equal citizens. The authority exercised by the man over his children is analogous to the authority relations in a monarchy. For Jacob Cats, see ADW I, p. 368. 83 306. 307. 308. 309. 310. 311. 312. 313. 314. 315. 316. 317. 318. 319. 320. 321. 322. 323. Aristotle (Pannier & Verhaege 1999, pp. 260-261). Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, pp. 33, 47, 48) (in margine referred to as ‘Reipublicae’). For the Greek-antique situation, according to Pannier & Verhaege 1999, p. 161, n. 40, the following applies: ‘In the family (oikos, “house”) the woman enjoys greater freedom and equality to the man than the children or the slaves. In this sense, household law is consistent with political law’. Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, pp. 58-59) does state that it is better to leave, when one does not like it, even if rules and laws apply equally everywhere. Sometimes it is better to settle tacitly (for the sake of happiness). Stevin makes no statement about the best form of state. His question concerns the choice a burgher stands for, based on his own conscience, given a certain constitution. Namely, how to bring the conscience in line with the laws of a country. Stevin translates ‘Individuum’ with ‘leegste’ (Romein-Verschoor 1939, p. 45), referring to the burgher as the lowest step, at the bottom of the constitution. However, as is always apparent, the individual is listed as ‘lowest’, in order to achieve the highest goal, i.e. his well-being (and that of all individuals). For his reference to Aristotle, see RomeinVerschoor 1939, p. 49. This is in line with Aristotle (Pannier &Verhaeghe 1999, p. 41) who writes: ‘Indeed, we asserted that the purpose of politics is the highest good. It takes the greatest care to instill in its citizens a certain quality, namely to be good and capable of performing noble deeds’. Cats, ADW I, p. 281. Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, pp. 27, 49, 50-51). This conception of religion has often been interpreted as a somewhat ‘instrumental’ conception of the engineer. See Van Berkel 1991, p. 51 9talks about ‘cynical undertone’); Romein-Verschoor 1939, pp. 10-11 (‘utilization of religion’); Den Boer 2001, p. 13 (‘utterly utilitarian motto’). Van Bunge 1999, pp. 329, 334. Stevin (Romein-Verschoor 1939, p. 31): ‘als Brabant heeft een Hertoch met Staten/ Vranckrijck een Kueninck met een Parlement/ Venegie een Hertoch met een Senaet/ Spaegnie een Kueninck met een Inquisitie; alwaer Parlement/ Senaet/ Inquisitie/ het gene beteeckenen dat wy op Duytsch int ghemeen Staten noemen/ oft immers zijn voornaemste deel van dien’ [so Brabant has a Duke with States/ France a King with a Parliament/ Venice a Duke with a Senate/ Spain a King with an Inquisition; where Parliament/ Senate/ Inquisition/ mean what we in Dutch call States/ or at least the main part of it]. Hauser 1975; Blunt 1999. Duindam 1995. Burke 1991. For example, Thornton 1990, p. 6 writes in his book on the interior art of the seventeenth century: ‘However, it was the French who were to humanise the formalism of Italian houseplanning, and it is the French contribution in this field which remains paramount in countries north of the Alps throughout the seventeenth century’. Tilly 1993. Muchembled 1991B; Spierenburg 1998; De Jongh 1986; Ottenheym 1989; Roodenburg 1993A and B, 1995. Barthes 1975, pp. 273-274. Elias 1990, p. 80: ‘Civilité acquired this specific meaning and function in the second quarter of the sixteenth century. Who was the first to elaborate it in the sense intended here can be precisely determined. The great flight that the newly defined concept would take societally, found its starting point in a short treatise on good manners for boys, which Erasmus published in 1530 under the title De civilitate morum puerilium’. And so do others. For example, Bremmer’s statement (1993, p. 38) that Erasmus’ prescriptions fit exactly in the early modern civilization offensive is at odds with his own 84 324. 325. 326. 327. 328. 329. 330. 331. 332. 333. 334. 335. 336. 337. 338. 339. 340. 341. 342. 343. 344. 345. conclusion in which he shows that Erasmus is resuming Greek-antique views. The term is borrowed from Manfredo Tafuri and denotes a historiography that seeks not so much to analyze modern-political positions as to legitimize them through a selection of historical sources (Berkers et al. 1978, p. 598). Foucault 1984A, p. 11. De Mare 1999. See also Vollemans 1998, pp. 65-68. For the contemporary architectural metaphors used by Komrij, Borderwijk and Kellendonk, see Van Dam 1997. Van Dam 1997, p. 179; Cicero (Van Rooijen - Dijkman & Leeman 1989, pp. 274-275). Yates 1988, p. 13; Hannaway 1997, p. 62. Both point out that Quintilian had reservations about the use of artificial aids in memory. Descartes (Verbeek 1979, pp. 61, 67, 53, 51-52); Spinoza (Van Suchtelen 1979, pp. 203, pp. 204-205). Unlike the work of Pieter de Hooch (Chapter 4), I have not been able to view this painting in reality. I have taken the information regarding the history of this painting from Brusati 1995, especially pp. 91-109 and pp. 201-217. To be precise, it measures 264 cm x 136.5 cm. Brusati 1995, p. 364. Brusati 1995, pp. 201, 364-365. In 1693 the painting was bought by William Blathwayt (1649-1717). Brusati 1995, p. 201. Brusati 1995, pp. 203-204 points to a painted but barely visible figure - a man, a voyeur looking in through the window on the right. ‘A broom and keys, alluding to the female “power of the keys” or authority over the affairs of the household, are displayed on the columns which frame the perspective. By means of these accessories, which the artist has cleverly supported on feigned nails painted at the juncture of the world seen and its depiction, Van Hoogstraten wittily defines the boundary between the putative viewer and the pictured world through a discourse of sexual difference’. Brusati 1995, p. 203. She links Van Hoogstraten’s organization of the ‘gaze’ to a production of the painter’s own identity. This approach, incidentally, typifies her entire interpretation, as evidenced by the title of this chapter (‘Self as Eye: The Perspective Box’), as well as that of others, such as ‘Self-making and Self-representation’ and ‘Art as Self: Trompe l’oeil’. ‘The object of their attention is, of course, none other than the viewer, which is to say ourselves. The watchful eyes which return our gaze establish our presence outside the world of the picture while at the same time implicating us, as something seen by the animal within the picture’s representational fiction. The concerned gazes of the animals assert the priority of the pictured world which they inhabit, for they posit the viewer as an intruder who has taken them by surprise’. Locher 1971, pp. 44-52. On the pictures I have at my disposal, it looks like there’s a second man sitting at the table. Only after this 17th-century external and heterogeneous world has been internalized can the house take on the homogenous form of 19th-century ‘domesticity’. Then an emotional inner world begins to expand to occupy the space within the four walls of the house. Only then does the dignity of the burgher turn into a narrow-minded bourgeoisie. This sentimental annexation will remain dominant in thinking about the ‘house’ well into the twentieth century. Elias 1990 II, p. 239. Smith 1999. Schmitt 1973; Smith 1992; Dear 1997; Grafton & Siraisi 1999; Eamon 1994. Grafton 1990, p. 1. Grafton 1990, pp. 2-3. 85 346. 347. 348. 349. 350. De Mare 1999, pp. 13-30. Olsen 1991; Schoonjans 1997; Spickernagel 1992A and B. And, as Grafton 1990, p. 1 notes, ‘this attitude, rooted in Romantic beliefs about originality and intensity, died hard’. Burke 1989; Grafton 1990. Van der Woude 2000D. 86 

Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Chapter 5.2.2. Art history according to Panofsky, Wittkower and Gombrich It is significant that it is not the work of Aby Warburg but that of Erwin Panofsky that is frequently quoted in post-war art historical literature. He shares this honor with researchers such as Rudolf Wittkower and later Ernst Gombrich. This common ground contributed to the fact that art history became an Anglo-Saxon affair in the course of the 1930s. On the run from National Socialism, Panofsky settled in America in 1933, while Wittkower (1934) and Gombrich (1936) started working at the Warburg Institute in London. The enormously differentiated German art-historical vocabulary presented these art historians with a major translation problem, as appears from some of Panofsky’s remarks. ‘There are more words in our philosophy than are dreamt of in heaven and earth, and every German-educated art historian endeavoring to make himself understood in English had to make his own dictionary’.1 But this emigration was not about a change of language alone. According to Alpers, Kemp, Emmens, Grafton and others, these scholars – after the exile from their culture – wanted to erect a barrier against barbarism. ‘It does not come as a surprise, then, to find Panofsky defending the ivory tower as such, unpopular as the image – and the thing it represents – have become, especially in America. This he did in a lecture delivered at Princeton in 1953. The ivory towers are the sojourning places of artists, writers, composers and humanists, he said. Their task is that of Lynceeus der Türmer: “Zum Sehen geboren, Zum Schauen bestellt”. They inhabit their towers not only to isolate themselves from the crowd in order to mediate, but also to serve as the watchmen of civilization. They espy threats to life and freedom before the men of “action” below, and they are expected to sound the warning in good time’.2 German art historians who fled the country defended and cultivated the Italian civilization of humanism in the first place. ‘The medieval and early modern scholarship that resulted from this reorientation of interests and assumptions was both rich in specific results and prolific in further applications. It inspired many of the German humanists whose transplantation to England and North America in the 1930’s transformed historical scholarship in the Englishspeaking world; its results have shaped undergraduate teaching on the history of Western culture from the 1930s to the present’. But, Grafton continues, this new approach started from the assumption that there were pure messages, in which the mutations that occurred in the course of time were regarded as an encroachment. That is why the Renaissance humanists were admired for their inexhaustible urge to rediscover the true, original meaning. ‘The new historical insight of early modern intellectuals was assumed – rather than proved – to be a triumph of culture over barbarism and reason over superstition’, according to Grafton. 3 The central turn that thus took place in post-war art history was therefore a shift from the study of the humanities to the study of humanist civilisation. ‘Panofsky habe seinen in die USA importierten Ansatz als “humanistische Disziplin” etabliert, als 1 Panofsky 1955B, pp. 329-330. Emmens 1981-II I, p. 130. 3 Grafton 1990, p. 2. 2 663 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Heimstatt einer grossen europaïschen Tradition, die ihre Inspirationsquellen in Antike und Renaissance und ihren Gegenpol im nationalsozialistischen Deutschland hatte. (...) “Kunstgeschichte als humanistische Disziplin” bildet sich heran als Wissenschaft vom Humanismus. Dem nordischen Totalitarismus setzte sie die Autorität der Antike, den Glanz der italienischen Kunsttradition, die Macht einer Wortkultur entgegen.’4 In this context, it is remarkable that other scholars in the 1930s were also concerned with the theme of ‘civilization’. This applies in any case to Norbert Elias, also fleeing from Germany, who in 1939 published his great work The Civilization Process in which he chose the centuries-long accumulation of civilized behavior in the elite of Germany and France as his subject. 5 Elias’ theme (not his valuable historical research method) was ‘rediscovered’ at the end of the 1960s, in which the French component became the main focus. As a result, from the 1980s onwards (think of Muchembled’s The invention of modern man or the French series History of personal life), European historiography was rewritten from the perspective of French civilization. As Muchembled writes: ‘Modern man is no more than an archetype. It is a concept that stands for shifts in the whole; I am talking about the powerful “civilization process” that the French and other Westerners underwent between the end of the Middle Ages and the French Revolution’.6 Although previously German-speaking scholars had also spoken about civilization – for example Freud (Das Unbehagen in der Kultur, 1930, translated as Civilization and its Discontents), or Warburg – their attitude differs from that of the post-war period in that they take the irrational aspects of culture seriously. Gombrich writes about Warburg, for example: ‘Like Freud, he was not an optimist. He was not sure that reason would ever win a permanent victory over unreason. But he conceived it as his task – sometimes perhaps naïvely overrating his own resources – to assist the struggle for enlightment precisely because he knew the strength of the opposing camp. Part of his resistance to the trends of modernism in literature and in art were due, from the outset, to his rejection of moral relativism’.7 The fact that historical research into art, culture, philosophy and civilization is thus interwoven with political points of view does not surprise us in the end. Panofsky, Wittkower and Elias, as well as Garin, for example, propagate an image of humanism and civilized culture that has been welcomed by many Kemp 1985, p. 12: ‘Panofsky had established his approach imported into the USA as a “humanistic discipline"” as the home of a great European tradition, which had its sources of inspiration in antiquity and the Renaissance and its counterpart in National Socialist Germany. (...) “Art history as a humanistic discipline” develops into the study of humanism. It opposed Nordic totalitarianism with the authority of antiquity, the splendor of Italian art tradition, and the power of a word culture.’ Alpers also points to the rupture that manifests itself; De Mare 1997. 5 In Germany, the ‘Bildungs’-ideal was at that time strictly separated from the French ‘civilization’ and was also considered higher. Halbertsma 1985. 6 Muchembled 1991B, p. 9. 7 Gombrich 1986, p. 321. 4 664 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 post-war scholars for understandable reasons. 8 In their defense of civilization – and against barbarism – these authors see the Renaissance rehabilitation of Plato as an example. Garin, for example, writes in 1947 in his book Der italienische Humanismus (The Italian Humanism) that this choice of the humanists ‘… meant a preference for the conception of an open world, discontinuous and full contradictions, incessantly changing and hostile to any systematization. (…) Platonic philosophy was sensitive to all problems and nuances. It was a moral mediation on a life shot through with hope, and it impinged upon the borders of mythology. Thus, it was a human dialogue, rather than a systematic treatise; and the exasperation with all the many problems led to corroded systematizations. For all these reasons the philosophy of Plato served as the center of a civilization that had rejected all old certainties, and the idea of a closed, ordered and static world; and which had found itself in a historical crisis, in the course of which all venerable unity had gone by the board and all human relationships had been changed’. Garin’s subsequent conclusion is significant, not so much for Renaissance humanism, but for the authors who, as early as the 1930s, wanted to protect Western civilization from destruction. And for this reason’, writes Garin, ‘when they chose Plato, they chose, in opposition to all systematizations, the new spirit of research, unprejudiced and truly free. It was like a declaration of war on the oppressively closed, hierarchical and finite world of Aristotle’.9 According to a note by Panofsky from 1937, Plato plays a central role in the defense against fascism.10 What is astonishing is the fact that, twenty years later, a generation of intellectuals who had grown up in an entirely different political and philosophical climate accepted the great emphasis of these scholars on issues such as neoplatonic idealism, the scholarly elite, the courtly circuits, and even absolutism as the origin of contemporary Western culture. Didn’t May ‘68 just target the established elite? How does the then emerging cultural-historical interest in enlightened despotism relate to the innovative (progressive) forces for which the slogan at the time was ‘power to the imagination’?11 A common denominator seems to me to be the resistance of all of them against ‘bourgeois culture’.12 In the prewar German context, the attitude of intellectuals towards ‘bourgeois culture’ was rather contradictory, as shown by Halbertsma’s 8 Panofsky 1953. In his contribution 'Panofsky's History of Art', Lavin 1995, pp. 5-8, points out how decisive this political issue was for the shaping of the art-historical questions in the then German state of affairs. 9 Garin 1975, pp. 10-11. The humanists ‘worshipped the “divine” Plato and contrasted him to that “beast” Aristotle’. 10 According to Lavin 1995, p. 8: in his publication 'The History of Art as a Humanistic Discipline' (1937-1938) Panofsky writes in a footnote: ‘Needless to say, the works of “Plato and other philosophers” also play an anti-Fascist role “in such circumstances’, and Fascists, too, “recognize this fact” ’. Benjamin 1985, p. 9-10, also starts The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction (1936) with the remark that it turns against fascist abuse, albeit that he introduces the Marxist system of concepts to this end: 11 And all this in a broad sense, from Marxism and feminism to the Social Democratic Left. 12 Here, too, the French contribution is important: Roland Barthes, for example, refers to the ‘bourgeois’ and the ‘bourgeois Norm’ as ‘the great enemy’ of the society that has existed in France since 1789, according to Roland Barthes in the new foreword to his Mythologies of 1970. 665 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 dissertation. The first modern generation in Europe just after the First World War was against nineteenth-century bourgeois culture. ‘This cultural critique is linked to an aversion to what can be called the legacy of the 18th and 19th centuries: empiricism, positivism and liberalism. What is rejected is the pluralism and relativism of European bourgeois society: there is a need for a single, allembracing idea of permanent stature’.13 One thinks in terms of avant-garde, one is fascinated by speed and wants to break with traditional concepts of Beauty. At the same time, the intelligentsia can only play an innovative role in culture by conforming to the bourgeois middle class. 14 On the other hand, art historians find specifically German qualities in history. For Wilhelm Pinder these consisted of a conglomerate of ‘spirituality, linearity, emotions, mysticism, the guilds, burghers and the German folk character'’ which he situated in fourteenth-century Gothic art. For many German art historians who write ‘the art history of German art’, the emancipation of German art stands for the emancipation of the burgher.15 The result is a ‘conservative revolution’ which, as Halbertsma argues, is ‘based on very contradictory arguments’.16 Against this broad 20th century cultural background, Panofsky and Wittkower’s choice for the Italian Renaissance, for humanistic rationality and for an intellectually courtly civilization as the dynamic pivot of Western cultural history may well be understandable. But this image is at odds with the outcome of my research. My analysis of the house and the forms of knowledge involved contradict the established idea that it was above all the absolutist monarch or the courtly elite who stood at the cradle of early modern European civilization. This honor is more to the benefit of the burgher, although in early modern Europe the burgher conjures up different connotations than in our time. Exploring the interplay of cultural-historical forces in early modern Europe was therefore only possible by questioning the self-evident modern-humanist basis of scholarly thinking about art and culture. The extent to which political history can influence the meaning of a particular image of history is underlined, albeit in the opposite sense, by the fate of the work of Sir Anthony Blunt, regularly quoted in chapter four. He worked as ‘Surveyor of the Queen’s Pictures’ at the court of Queen Elizabeth II, was for some time attached to the Warburg Institute and later became director of the Courtauld Institute (1947-1974). Since the confession of his espionage for the KGB in 1964 and its official confirmation in 1979, the work of this scholar has almost been erased from the art historical memory. In recent studies devoted to Italian Renaissance art, references to his work remain sparse or are completely 13 Halbertsma 1985, p. 140. Halbertsma 1985, pp. 136-140. She points out that in the course of the 19th and early 20th centuries there were different views on ‘bourgeois’, ranging from the bourgeois ‘Bildungsideal’ to ‘petty bourgeois'’ The views of the scholars are therefore partly related to the position of the academic elite in the social context of the time. See in particular pp. 74-91. 15 Halbertsma 1985, p. 48. 16 Halbertsma 1985, p. 143. 14 666 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 lacking.17 It is only now, more than fifteen years after his death and ten years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, that the reprinting of his work begins and a start can be made with the recognition, appropriation and elaboration of his valuable arthistorical research. On what was the research of the ‘humanistic’ art historians based in the first place? Warburg studied the Italian Renaissance primarily from the Nachleben der Antike (afterlife of Antiquity). He wanted to examine the historical-cultural dimension of the artifacts as well as their migration and transformation over time. Erwin Panofsky contributed to this effort in his pre-war publications. For example, in his analysis of early modern art theory from 1924, Idea, in which he gave a nuanced interpretation of the transformation that the rules of art underwent in the early modern era. Although translated into English in 1968, the work has hardly had any influence. In addition, Panofsky showed, in line with Warburg, that in the medieval period (which remained a closed book for Warburg) these classical forms and conventions, themes and motifs live on – albeit absorbed, transformed and appropriated in a Christian context. 18 With his attention to the medieval arts, Panofsky followed the waves of the then history of science, which focused on medieval science. ‘The period between the 1920s and the 1960s was in some respects a golden age for the history of medieval science. It was certainly a time in which the subject entered the mainstream of historical inquiry in a way it had never done before’. 19 Grafton and Siraisi explain Panofsky’s later interest in Renaissance culture and the sharp distinction he suggests with regard to the Middle Ages, partly as a reaction to the little attention these historians paid to the Renaissance. 20 By the way, the historians of science who did explore the early modern period – such as Alexandre Koyré who studied the work of Galileo – introduced neo-Platonism as a conceptual explanatory model. 21 This approach to art history underwent a shift after the Second World War. The Italian Renaissance is regarded as the origin of Western civilization. Instead of research into visual formation and the shaping of artistic and literary value patterns – which Warburg and Panofsky (in his earliest work) had advocated – Panofsky, in his Iconological studies shortly before the Second World War, had posited a humanistic-intellectual pattern of values that had been inspired by neoPlatonic thinking. In doing so, he interprets neo-platonism as taking up Plato’s 17 Beresford 1999, p. x. Panofsky 1968; Gombrich 1986, pp. 310-311. 19 Grafton & Siraisi 1999, p. 6. 20 Grafton & Siraisi 1999, p. 6. 21 Dear 1995, p. 124. It concerned his Études galiléennes from 1939. 18 667 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 work again.22 Panofsky adopted (consciously or unconsciously) certain idealistic ideas from the history of style against which iconology was opposed. 23 Panofsky presented with great élan the philosophical system which, in his view, would encompass the entire humanist culture of the Renaissance. This philosophical framework would have been created by three interventions. ‘First, to make the original documents of Platonism accessible by means of translations – with excerpts and comments – into Latin, not only by Plato himself but also by the “platonici”, namely Plotinus and later writers such as Proclus, Porphyrius, Jamblichus, Pseudo-Dionysius Areopagita, “Hermes Trismegistos” and “Orpheus”. Secondly, to coordinate this vast amount of knowledge into a coherent and vital system that could give a new meaning to the entire cultural heritage of the past, to Virgil and Cicero as well as to Augustine and Dante, to classical mythology as well as to physics, astrology and medicine. Thirdly, by bringing this system into harmony with the Christian faith’.24 Beauty and spirituality, intellectuality and sophistication, taste and friendship, God and love, science and culture come together in a harmonious worldview. Years later, Frances Yates has confirmed the great importance of neo-Platonism and the scholars that Panofsky has mentioned. Not so much as the central renaissance philosophy but as part of the philosophical systems to which hermetic and occult thinking are also included and which all contributed to the transformation of new knowledge systems in the early modern era.25 A third aspect is linked to this turn towards platonic thinking. The arts are included in Plato’s system of thought, but as Panofsky himself had already observed in 1924: a certain image hostility cannot be denied platonic thinking.26 See his publications ‘The neo-platonic movement in Florence and northern Italy’ and ‘The neoplatonic movement and Michelangelo’. This is in contrast to Kristeller, who in his work (known to Panofsky) has always emphasized that in the neo-platonic academy both the work of Plato and that of Aristotle were studied. It was not until later that Panofsky's view was interpreted as a more fixed Renaissance world view. 23 Warburg had already pointed out how the history of style around 1900 was based on platonicidealistic thinking. ‘The history of artists written from the point of view of the progressive artistic genius who increasingly conquers the technique of creating illusions up to the “high standards of the present”, and who, on the other hand, invents and demands a more ideal world of a more elevated style’. According to Warburg, this view formed the basis of an art-historical approach. ‘This latter idealizing style – actively favored through Platonism and neo-Platonism – leads through Winckelmann and Kant to the postulate of a higher beauty embodied in classicizing art’. In a letter addressed to his friend Adolph Goldschmidt, Warburg gives a list of the types of art histories that exist at that time (Gombrich 1986, pp. 141-142). Panofsky transforms the development of artistic forms (culminating in ideal beauty) into a development of moral content, with humanist civilization as its culmination point. 24 Panofsky mentions these three operations as the tasks appointed by the scholar Marsilio Ficino (1433-1499), in 1984, pp. 101-102: ‘This system was created by the "Platonic Academy" in Florence, an elite circle of men united by mutual friendship, equal taste for sociability and cultural conversations, an almost religious worship of Plato and an affectionate admiration for a amiable, refined scholar, Marsilio Ficino (1433-1499)’. 25 Yates 1970, 1978 and 1988. 26 Panofsky 1968, pp. 3-7. In his Idea, Panofsky examines why Plato’s iconoclasm, as implied by his conception of the Empire of Ideas, was reversed in the 16th century (Panofsky calls Melanchton). ‘It is certain that Plato everywhere calls Ideas a perfect and lucid notion, as Apelles 22 668 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 The question is therefore what inspired Erwin Panofsky as an art historian – apart from the already mentioned political argument – to consider Plato’s philosophy in later times as the very foundation of the flourishing Renaissance art? And what was so attractive in this iconoclasm for the iconology that later, from the late 1960s onwards, unfolded in the Netherlands? I will come back to this paradoxical case in chapter 5.2.4. In the multiple shift that Panofsky thus brings about (from form to content, from formal beauty to moral beauty), the art historian is assigned a new task. On the basis of as much historical knowledge as possible, he has to determine the ‘essential intellectual tendencies in a certain time (the world view)’. Panofsky considered it necessary to have an extensive knowledge of the intellectual expressions of culture. For example, for the analysis of themes and concepts, one should be familiar with literary sources. 27 Panofsky comes to the conclusion that in the Renaissance a new kind of historical consciousness emerges. 28 On this basis he considers it possible to identify certain aspects, figures, motifs and themes in image and text material and to decipher artefacts by means of an analogy reasoning. This has two consequences. Firstly, for the approach to the artifact, because the form thus becomes the bearer of a symbolic meaning (the content) that is characteristic of culture in general. Secondly, it becomes unclear to what extent the artifact is explained by the culture, or the culture by the artifacts. This results in a circular reasoning that has been noted by various critics. Van Huisstede has described this approach, in which ‘one finds what one has put into it’, as follows. ‘We have already emphasized that the combination, in the case of Panofsky’s iconological method, of “synthetic intuition” (the researcher’s psychological apparatus) and the notion of a particular “time-specific mindset” entails the danger that iconological research will become a self-fulfilling prophecy’.29 Ginzburg notes something similar when he points out that sometimes people think so much of neo-Platonism that ‘neo-Platonic allegories are introduced where they are absent. It is a somewhat peculiar view of the historian’s Einfühlung [sensitivity]. In any case, it seems to me that the fact (...) should alert us to the question of what degree of inner coherence and correspondence between texts and images is needed to make the iconographic interpretation truly plausible. Otherwise, it becomes an instrument with which one can read in the testimonies carries in his mind the most beautiful image of the human body’. Panofsky explains this by the fact that Melanchton (who, by the way, is not an 'art' theorist) links Plato’s conception to that of Aristotle and therefore also differs from Plato’s image hostility: ‘This interpretation, admittedly an attempt to reconcile Plato with Aristotle, is distinguished from a genuine Platonic definition by two things: first, the Ideas are no longer metaphysical substances existing outside the world of sensory appearances as well as outside the human intellect in a “supercelestial place”, but they are notions or conceptions residing in the mind of man; second, it appears to be self-evident to a thinker of his time that the Ideas preferably reveal themselves in artistic activity. The painter, and no longer the dialectician, is now adduced as an example when the concept “idea” is discussed’ (Panofsky 1968, pp. 6-7). 27 Panofsky 1984, pp. 15-18. 28 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 100. 29 Van Huisstede 1992, pp. 6, 11. 669 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 of the visual arts what one wants (which, moreover, is supported by a lot of “evidence”)’.30 Warburg’s dynamic and distancing approach, which examines the material in its historical dimension and heterogeneous configuration, changes in Panofsky’s Iconological studies into a more fixative approach. Intellectualhumanistic meanings are recovered in the visual material. Entities are created that are assigned their ‘original place’ in culture.31 Warburg’s emphasis on the distance between art historian and artifact, a distance that makes it possible to investigate the specific historical dimension, is at odds with Panofsky’s emphasis on reducing the distance, by searching for and recognizing constants and similarities – an interpretative attitude that is also generally appreciated by non-art historians. The analogy reasoning introduced by Panofsky in his Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism (1957) has been particularly popular outside art history.32 And finally, there is also a change to be seen when it comes to the activity of the historian. According to Warburg, a historian should carefully examine what significances are attached to visual material in a historical period. Warburg analyses how significances are generated within a historical value pattern. With Panofsky, on the other hand, the historian relies on his ‘synthetic intuition’ to give meaning to the artifact. On the basis of his own ingenuity, the historian assigns essential meanings to an artifact. Panofsky’s shift from an analytical approach as advocated by Warburg to a determinative one is evident in his introduction of an ‘Australian native’. He presents this figure to illustrate the strangeness of modern times with regard to the Renaissance. According to Panofsky, in order to understand a historical phenomenon, it is necessary to have an insight into the objects and events as well as into the traditions of a culture. ‘Our Australian native would not be able to understand the subject of the Last Supper. At most he would see it as a meal of busy gesturing men. In order to understand the iconographic meaning of the painting, he needs to familiarize himself with the text of the Gospels. When it comes to depicting other themes than biblical stories or scenes from history and mythology that happen to belong to the mindset of the average “intellectual”, we are all Australian natives. In such cases, we too must find out what the maker of that representation had read or knew in some other way’. Panofsky rightly points out that possessing this knowledge does not guarantee a correct interpretation. ‘It is impossible to give a correct iconographic analysis if we apply our knowledge of books to the motifs without criticism – just as it was equally impossible to give a correct pre-iconographic description by simply applying our practical experience to the forms’.33 Panofsky tries to resolve this uncertainty regarding the status and extent of the collected knowledge by referring to the symbolic forms, as introduced by Ernst Cassirer. He considers forms to be the special shapes in 30 Ginzburg's remark (1988A, p. 110) concerns in this case a kindred spirit of Panofsky, Edgar Wind. 31 Van Huisstede 1992, p. 9 refers to Robert Klein, who once concluded that the iconography (the first two layers of Panofsky’s method) is ‘pure hermeneutics’ that ‘can be compared to semantics’. 32 Bourdieu 1977; Graafland 1986. 33 Panofsky 1984, pp. 15, 8. 670 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 which general basic principles appear. 34 Warburg proceeded in the opposite direction by constantly analyzing the particular embedding of certain visual material, thereby emphasizing the special historical transformation and migration. Panofsky’s iconological method has had an enormous impact on the development of the art historical discipline as a moral hermeneutics, both in the United States and in the Netherlands. It is precisely this massive ‘Nachleben’ of iconology that forces us to emphasize the differences between Warburg and Panofsky and to point out the reductions, the reversals, the lack of consistent theorizing and the danger of over-interpretation.35 ‘The post-Warburg iconology, as developed by Fritz Saxl and Erwin Panofsky in particular, is much more modest. This iconology was mainly limited to the Renaissance and gave up the more anthropological questions in favor of an analysis that explained the work of art from the philosophical and literary texts of that period. This iconology was more limited to the “high culture” and largely broke off the relationship with psychology, anthropology, social sciences, ethnology, religious studies and the like. The current problems, in which lines were extended to the present, also disappeared (...) the pluriform, internally divided conception that Warburg had elaborated of the Renaissance was smoothed out into the homogeneous whole of the unity of the counterparts under the dominant influence of neo-Platonism. At worst, the iconological method degenerated into a quest for meanings so enigmatic and farfetched that they could not have been understood by the audience at the time, but fortunately they were understandable for twentieth-century iconologists’.36 Which by no means implies that there is no potential in Panofsky’s work, on the contrary. Both his untranslated work and his less frequently quoted work from after 1933 form a rich treasure-house of art-historical thinking that has not yet been fully explored. Authors such as Moxey and Van Mechelen, Alpers and Kemp have underlined the importance of re-reading Panofsky’s work. For me, this is primarily about the reception of his central work as the basis of Dutch iconology. But there are still a few issues that need to be dealt with in advance. In addition to Panofsky’s work, that of British architectural historian Rudolf Wittkower, who was trained in Germany, has also had a great deal of influence, albeit mainly on the history of architecture and the historical framing of design practice. As a subdiscipline of art history, at the beginning of the twentieth century architectural history was developed into a fully-fledged discipline, partly thanks to a number of German-speaking colleagues such as Siegfried Giedion, Richard Krautheimer and Nicolas Pevsner. 37 Although he has written many art historical publications, Wittkower’s magnum opus is his Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism from 1949. A few years ago, Payne remarked that the 34 Panofsky 1984, p. 18. Van Huisstede 1992, pp. 4-8. 36 Halbertsma 1993, p. 95. 37 Payne 1994, p. 324, n. 10 points out that Giedion obtained his doctorate by Wölfflin in 1922 and Pevsner by Wilhelm Pinder in 1924. Krautheimer studied with Paul Frankl, who in turn studied with Wölfflin. 35 671 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 book ‘is still in many instances the standard classroom textbook on the subject’.38 Once again, the subject is the Italian Renaissance, and once again it is striking that a moral pact is being concluded. Unintentionally, his work is mainly supported and appropriated by critical architects of the Modern Movement, according to Payne and, more recently, Van Eck.39 A number of similarities between Panofsky and Wittkower are striking. Wittkower also looks at literary-philosophical texts for the explanation of architectural artefacts. He too is concerned with the place of architecture in the cultural context of the Italian Renaissance. And he too analyses form from the idea of an essential meaning. 40 Finally, it is no coincidence that Wittkowers’ emphasis on the anthropomorphic and cosmological interpretation of rationalist Renaissance architecture – think of the Vitruvian figure inscribed in a circle and in a square – rhymes with the human dimensions that Le Corbusier proposes in his Le Modulor (1950 and 1955).41 It makes the absorption and dissemination of Wittkower’s interpretation by the Modern Movement in Architecture with its social-humanist commitment all the more understandable. In other words, the architectural-theoretical tradition that Wittkower locates in the Renaissance is not so much an ‘ongoing debate’ that would continue into the Modern Movement. 42 On the contrary, it is an example of an ‘invented tradition’ in the sense of Hobsbawm.43 The most interesting thing about Wittkower’s Architectural Principles, however, is that he managed to change the difficult relationship between modernist design and history (which modernism so forcefully broke with) into a positive attitude. Unlike Giedion, who explicitly assigned his historical project to the modern architect, Wittkower wanted to write a purely scientific work on Renaissance architecture. Wittkower (as well as Warburg and Panofsky) rejects an aesthetic projection in which the experience of architectural forms coincides with the intention of an architect. He considers the architectural theory of the Renaissance to be a ‘conscious intellect-driven will to form aimed at conveying meaning, and hence, aimed at the mind rather than the senses’.44 According to Alice Payne, the core of his evidence is ‘the unity between art and science (mathematics)’. He can prove this unit by a narrowing of the research question.45 Only in this way can he interpret the beauty of Renaissance architecture as being based on logic, order, rhythm, numbers and clarity. ‘In Wittkower’s words, the effect is of a pure, simple, and lucid architecture of elementary forms’.46 At the same time he can replace the architect as a sensitive 38 Payne 1994, p. 324. The book was translated into Dutch in 1996 and is still part of the curriculum at the Faculty of Architecture in Delft as a textbook. 39 Van Eck 1999, 1998. 40 Payne 1994, p. 325, n. 9. 41 Ungers 1994, p. 312 e.v. 42 Ungers 1994, p. 315: ‘Evidently, the debate on the architectural orders has not yet run its course but continues to be discussed in the context of modern architecture’. 43 Hobsbawm 1983. 44 Payne 1994, p. 325. 45 Payne 1994, p. 325. 46 Payne 1994, p. 326. 672 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 but passive plaything on the waves of culture with an active designer who pursues an intellectual trajectory in a conscious way and with a rationalistic will to order. From Renaissance architectural theory (which Wittkower interprets on the basis of neo-Platonic philosophy, geometry and music) as well as from design practice (whose spatial configurations, proportions and formal syntax, according to him, symbolize cosmic harmony), he finally distils the consciously operating and humanistic intellectual that the contemporary architect would so much like to be. ‘The ideal of these humanists was to restore an ideal world according to a mathematical model of harmony, using the highly idealized image of the Antiquities as an example’, says Ottenheym. 47 With this new interpretation of the Renaissance architect, Wittkower brings architectural history in line with post-war art history. Traversing between various art-historical views, Wittkower gives shape to his architectural history. Sometimes he adopts concepts or points of view, sometimes he rejects them. The result is a balanced but highly reductionist reading of the Renaissance. Renaissance culture was to be characterized by a neo-Platonic philosophy in which art, literature, architecture and music harmonized. Panofsky sees it as the expression of a conscious, rational and humanistic civilization, Wittkower as an expression of the will for order that is given shape by the architect as an intellectual. The latter term – the architect as an intellectual rather than a manual worker – was later adopted by Manfredo Tafuri and appropriated by the post-war architectural engineer, who was happy to accept this title. 48 Wittkower’s Architectural Principles has taken on a special role in modernist architectural criticism. Payne points out that Wittkower’s book has been well received on the one hand by others who have used his insights to adstruct critical positions, and on the other hand because he himself (and others too) have popularized the book, by further simplifying the central thesis. 49 The architect Wittkower situated in the Italian Renaissance is very similar to the avant-garde architect as typified by Siegfried Giedion, for example. Giedion ‘promotes a militant modernism that also implies a militant architect, selfconscious about the aesthetic profile of the moment wherein he inscribes his work and about his own place in the march towards progress, neither a passive vehicle for a will to art, nor an unwitting seismograph of the cultural undertow, in short, an architect-theorist to whom Wittkower’s renaissance counterpart stands as a distant, though related, ancestor’.50 It is precisely this comparability of the formal architectural structures in the past and present that makes Wittkower’s Architectural Principles attractive to this group. On the one hand, the pursuit of its own architectural language and formal syntax is honored. Renaissance theory of form is unlocked according to modernist principles and thus made accessible again. On the other hand, Wittkower’s book is attractive because the historical rupture of Modernism with its own previous history can be restored, albeit under the conditions of the 47 Ottenheym 1995A, p. 11. Tafuri 1978, 1980. 49 Payne 1994, p. 339. 50 Payne 1994, p. 331. 48 673 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Moderns. In fact, the architectural history that Wittkower proposes involves an expansion of the modernist formal language with retroactive effect to the Renaissance or even Vitruvius, a historiography that is gladly adopted by contemporary architects. As Umberto Barbieri wrote only recently: ‘Starting with Vitruvius and continuing via Alberti and Palladio, the rules of the discipline have been formulated in various ways. Yet all of those rules were based on the assumption that design is a scientific and rational process. That standpoint rests on two pillars, one being the theoretical (objective) moment and the other being the experimental (subjective) moment’.51 Payne has pointed out the effectiveness of this modernist implantation in history. This is apparent from an article by Colin Rowe, who first uses Wittkower’s instruments to analyze a Palladio villa and then compares it to a Le Corbusier villa. ‘Struck by the presence of similar syntactical devices in the work of (Wittkower’s) Palladio and Le Corbusier, Rowe draws together the Villa Malcontenta with the Villa Stein and evaluates their respective compositional strategies. This concentration on syntax allows him not only to bring Palladio within the orbit of modern criticism, but, more generally, to offer implicitly a strategy for appropriating historical examples into modernist design without openly questioning its programmatic rejection of such borrowing’.52 Making such an equation ‘suggests a community of problems that transcends historical periods and that makes the past relevant for the present. In explicitly presenting syntax as that common concern and denominator [Rowe] offers a viable formal strategy for communication between a contemporary abstraction-based aesthetic and the historical tradition. Once this is accepted as a viable premise (...) the past becomes indeed Giedion’s “eternal present” and can be reprocessed as such’.53 This emphasis on formal syntax has been further elaborated in postmodern thinking in particular, as in Peter Eisenman's linguistic ‘archgram’ formulation. Wittkower’s architectural history is therefore based on minimizing, if not eliminating, the distance between past and present. As a result, the historical dimension of the architectural artifact has become irrelevant, while formal comparability is seen as a sign of intellectual continuity. In this context, historical architectural drawing becomes a rational planning system in the modern sense of the word and thus compatible with current thinking on architecture. ‘In his reformulations of Principles for architectural journals, Wittkower makes this ontological aspect of his thinking explicit when he states: “Nobody will deny that our psychophysical make-up requires the concept of order, and, in particular, of mathematical order (...). Modern psychology supports the contention that the quest for a basic order and harmony lies deep in human nature.” With this opening statement that introduces his book to an audience of architects, Wittkower asserts a will to order and openly posits permanently valid and hence metahistorical 51 Barbieri 2000, p. 24. Payne 1994, p. 339. 53 Payne 1994, p. 339. 52 674 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 conditions that lead to form making. Such practice and such emphasis was common to, and in fact characterized, modernist discourse’.54 In this way, an architectural history has been installed that legitimizes the historical validity of modern thinking. It also explains Wittkower’s limitation of Renaissance thinking to a single movement, namely the anthropomorphic line of thought by Filarete, Giorgio Martini and Cataneo. The architecture-according-tohuman-proportions appears to be in line with the humanistic and social accent in the project of the Moderns. It also explains why Wittkower interprets the geometric and incalculable Golden-Ratio-relationship as a medieval phenomenon, of which the Renaissance architecture is thus – of course – spared.55 Compared to the work of Panofsky and Wittkower, in which many reminiscences of prewar German art-historical thinking resound, Gombrich occupies a somewhat different position. Although born in Vienna in 1909 and often regarded as a scholar from the ‘second generation of the Warburg school’, he himself underlined a certain distance from that background. 56 Carlo Ginzburg pointed out in 1966 that the difference between Gombrich and his predecessors lay in his ‘predominantly theoretically oriented interests’.57 His own enthusiasm for Gombrich’s work stems from his conviction that this art historian provides ‘a radical solution’ to some of the problems that had previously arisen in art history.58 Namely: ‘the crucial problem of the change of styles’.59 Gombrich does indeed reject two art-historical approaches aimed at finding the historical content of an artifact. First, he rejects the analogy reasoning in iconology. The iconological approach ‘might well project non-existent platonic allegories onto Renaissance paintings that only express a serene sensuality’.60 Such a reasoning assumes that the collective mentality of a culture is visibly expressed in a cultural product: ‘the art style dominant in a certain historical period should be seen as an expression of a “collective personality to which an independent existence is attributed” – almost a “super-artwork” performed by a “super-artist” – an idea which, according to Gombrich, would be a relic of the romantic philosophy of history’.61 Secondly, he rejects the modern reasoning according to which the personality of an artist can be read out from an artifact. ‘He rejects the projection onto art of the past of a conception that arose in modern times, according to which art constitutes a necessary break with tradition and art as a direct expression of the individuality (or even, if you will, of the 54 Payne 1994, p. 340. In fact, his criticism is a reaction to the mythologization that has been woven around this phenomenon since the nineteenth century. His fierce repudiation of the Golden Ratio is therefore in fact directed against the hype surrounding this phenomenon that started in the Romantic era. In this sense Wittkower’s interpretation is misleading and historically incorrect. 56 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 99 refers to a passage by Gombrich in an essay from 1945. 57 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 99. 58 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 98. 59 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 116. 60 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 107. 61 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 102. 55 675 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 unconscious) of the artist’.62 Jan Emmens once expressed a similar criticism of Born under Saturn by Margot and Rudolf Wittkower, in which they rewrote the history of the ‘artist’ from the Renaissance onwards. ‘In this very important respect, the authors have made things too easy for themselves. Their failure to isolate nineteenth-century component in our image of the artist has sometimes resulted in the contamination of the High Renaissance artist with characteristics of his Romantic descendant. The Renaissance dictum “ogni pittore dipinge se” does not yet mean, as far as I can see, that the Renaissance artist consciously strives after self-expression’.63 In both cases, Gombrich opposes the assumption that the form is transparent and gives access to intellectual content, be it collective or individual in nature. According to Gombrich, the problem of form, which has been sidelined by iconology since Panofsky, should be thought through theoretically. His solution is the use of communication and information theory. These disciplines offer him a model for thinking about the cultural product in relation to the culture.64 Gombrich states that an artifact ‘must be seen as the vehicle of a particular message, which can be understood by the beholder, insofar as he knows the possible alternatives, the linguistic context in which the message is situated’, according to Ginzburg.65 Although such a model has the disadvantage of loosening the link with history, Gombrich can now emphasize two aspects. First, that an artifact is based on conventions and codes that it shares with other artifacts. Ginzburg ‘translates’ this in social-scientific terms (because thinking from the artist’s point of view) when he writes: ‘the artist can only represent reality by referring to other paintings’.66 And secondly, that the choice of conventions and codes determines the impression of veracity, and not the accuracy of the rendering. ‘Styles, like languages, differ in the sequence of articulation and in the number of questions they allow the artist to ask; and so complex is the information that reaches us from the visible world that no picture will ever embody it all. That is not due to the subjectivity of vision but to its richness. Where the artist has to copy a human product he can, of course, produce a facsimile which is indistinguishable from the original (...). But what matters to us is that the correct portrait, like the useful map, is an end product on a long road through schema and correction. It is not a faithful record of a visual experience but the faithful construction of a relational model’.67 Artistic tradition, durability and history are within reach again.68 At least that’s the conclusion Ginzburg draws in 1966. But instead of developing these points into a historical approach, Gombrich searches for an explanation in a completely different direction. ‘Once again it becomes clear that for Gombrich, the thesis that art has a history means nothing more than emphasizing that the 62 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 103. Emmens 1981, II N, p. 176. 64 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 103 and p. 111. 65 Ginzburg 1988A, pp. 103-104. 66 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 112. 67 Gombrich 1983, p. 78. 68 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 113. 63 676 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 various expressions of art are not separate, independent expressions, but links in a tradition. The problem of the change of style remains open', Ginzburg states. 69 Instead of investigating the changes in works of art in terms of historical processes such as conceptualization and visual formation (as Warburg did), he ultimately explains them from general psychological causes. In the same way, Gombrich interprets Warburg’s work in the Mnemosyne atlas, about which he notes: ‘It was not so much a problem of formal traditions as one of collective psychology’.70 And a little further on, he reads Warburg’s purpose as ‘a scientific psychology of the artistic process’. 71 ‘The form of a representation cannot be divorced from its purpose and the requirements of the society in which the given visual language gains currency’.72 In this way, Gombrich relates the form to the requirements and needs of a society. In short, with ‘the function’ that has a form. Other requirements and new needs change the function of an artifact and as a result, the forms will also change, according to his reasoning. Ginzburg welcomes this solution with a certain enthusiasm: ‘This concept of “function” leads Gombrich to break the magic circle of paintings that resemble other paintings or that try to solve formal problems that are raised by other paintings’.73 The history of cultural products has been transformed by Gombrich into a history of functions, requirements, needs, mentality and communication. For a historian, this is familiar territory. ‘From the side of the sender, we have the (not only aesthetic, but also political, religious and so on) “needs” that emerge from society, “based on the visual language that applies there”; from the recipient’s side we have the mental set either, in Gombrich’ definition: “the set of attitudes and patterns of expectation that will influence our perceptions and predispose us to see and hear certain things sooner than others”’.74 Ginzburg’s approval of this reformulation of art history is therefore closely related to the fact that Gombrich transforms art history (as a historiography of visual material) into a history of changing communication between the artist and the public (which is by definition a social historiography). ‘It is precisely the notion of art as communication, as assumed in Art and Illusion, that brings with it problems that call for a solution in a broader context. History (the relations between artistic phenomena and political, religious, social and mental history, etc.), which is tacitly put out of the door, comes back in through the window’, says Ginzburg.75 Ginzburg’s hopeful expectation in 1966 that the cultural historians would return to the history of art has – as I observed at the beginning of my research – come true thirty years later. Nowadays there is a consensus that art history needs social-scientific questions and must pay attention to the artist, the patron, the beholder, the public and the market. This is remarkable given the distrust with which the social history of art, elaborated by art historians Frederik Antal and 69 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 115. Gombrich 1986, p. 307. 71 Gombrich 1986, p. 308. 72 Gombrich 1983, p. 78. 73 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 118. 74 Ginzburg 1988A, pp. 119-120. 75 Ginzburg 1988A, p. 120. 70 677 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Arnold Hauser (who fled from the Nazis and worked in London in the 1950s), was considered in the art historical discipline until well into the 1970s. 76 Nowadays this approach has become commonplace and has been stripped of its political connotations. Today one immediately asks about the social and communicative function of a work of art and about the desires, the needs or the demands it meets. In fact, the recent rise of ‘visual culture studies’ almost exclusively concerns the question of (individual or collective) appropriation, messages and the circulation of ‘works of art’ between groups in history. This new trend is therefore largely a matter reserved for non-art historians (cultural historians, social scientists, anthropologists, communication scientists and philosophers).77 Gombrich’s specific art-historical questions, such as the problem of codes, conventions, concepts, as well as the concept of ‘representation’, the way in which images are transferred, changed and adapted in Western culture, have therefore – for the time being – shifted to the background. Chapter 5.2.1. Aby Warburg and cultural history as scholarly field of study 2019 - Visual Culture, a TRIPTYCH – an epistemological program [selection, English translations] References Alpers, S., ‘Describe or Narrate? A Problem in Realistic Representation’, in: New Literary History. A journal of theory and interpretation, VIII (1976), 1, pp. 15-41. Alpers, S., ‘Is Art History?’, in: Daedalos, 106 (1977), 3, pp. 1-13. Alpers, S., ‘Seeing as knowing: a Dutch connection’, in: Humanities in Society (1978A), 1, pp. 147-173. Alpers, S., ‘Taking pictures seriously: a reply to Hessel Miedema’, in: Simiolus, 10 (1978B), 1, pp. 46-50. Alpers, S., ‘Art History and Its Exclusions: The Example of Dutch Art’, in: N. Broude & M.D. Alpers, S., ‘Style is What You Make It: The Visual Arts Once Again (1979)’, in: B. Lang (ed.), The concept of style. Ithaca/ London 1987, pp. 137-162. Alpers, S., De kunst van het kijken. Nederlandse schilderkunst in de zeventiende eeuw. Amsterdam 1989 (1983). Barnard, M., Approaches to Understanding Visual Culture. New York 2001. Barthes, R., Mythologieën. Amsterdam 1975 (1957). Benjamin, W., Het kunstwerk in het tijdperk van zijn technische reproduceerbaarheid. Nijmegen 1985 (1936). 76 Bruyn 1985, 1986B, 1996; Van Os 1984. Frederick Antal (Budapest 1887-England 1954), studied in Budapest, Berlin, Freiburg, Vienna (the school of Alois Riegl and Max Dvorák) and moved to the Courtauld Institute in London because of the war. His best-known work is Florentine Painting and Its Social Background from 1948. Arnold Hauser fled Vienna in 1938 and wrote in London a volume on the sociology of art, part of the series 'The international Library of Sociology and Social Reconstruction' published by Karl Mannheim. In 1951, this project resulted in The social history of art. 77 See for instance Mirzoeff 1999; Sturken & Cartwright 2001; Barnard 2001; Walker & Chaplin 1997; Jencks 1998; Evans & Hall 1999. 678 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Beresford, R., ‘Preface to the fifth (posthumous) edition (1953)’, in: A. Blunt, Art and Architecture in France 1500-1700. New Haven 1999, pp. x-xi. Bourdieu, P., ‘Der Habitus als Vermittlung zwischen Struktur und Praxis’, in: P. Bourdieu, Zur Soziologie der symbolische Formen. Frankfurt am Main 1977, pp. 125-158. Bruyn, J., ‘Dutch cheese: a problem of interpretation’, in: Ten essays for a friend: E. de Jongh 65. Zwolle 1996, pp. 99-106. Bruyn, J., ‘Het probleem van het realisme in de zeventiende-eeuwse Hollandse kunst van Huizinga tot heden’, in: Theoretische geschiedenis (1986B), 13, pp. 209-218. Bruyn, J., ‘Svetlana Alpers, The Art of Describing, in: Oud-Holland (1985), 99, pp. 155-160. Dear, P., Discipline and Experience. The mathematical way in the scientific revolution. Chicago/ London 1995. Emmens, J.A., ‘Erwin Panofsky as a humanist (1967)’, in: J.A. Emmens, Kunsthistorische opstellen II. Amsterdam 1981-II I, pp. 125-131. Emmens, J.A., ‘Rudolf and Margot Wittkower, Born under Saturn (1971)’, in: J.A. Emmens, Kunsthistorische opstellen II. Amsterdam 1981-IIN, pp. 175-179. Evans, J. & S. Hall, Visual Culture: the Reader. London 1999. Garin, E., Italian Humanism. Philosophy and Civic Life in the Renaissance. Westport, Connecticut 1975 (1947). Ginzburg, C., ‘Van Aby Warburg tot Ernst Hans Gombrich. Aantekeningen bij een methodisch vraagstuk (1966)’, in: C. Ginzburg, Omweg als methode. Nijmegen 1988A, pp. 67-149. Gombrich, E.H., Aby Warburg. An intellectual biography. London 1986. Gombrich, E.H., Art and Illusion. A study in the psychology of pictorial representation. Oxford 1983 (1959). Graafland, A., Esthetisch vertoog en ontwerp. Theorie en methode van betekenisverlening in architectuur en kunst. Nijmegen 1986. Grafton, A. & N. Siraisi (ed.), Natural Particulars. Nature and the Disciplines in renaissance Europe. Cambridge Mass./ London 1999. Grafton, A., The Transmission of Culture in Early Modern Europe. Philadelphia 1990. Halbertsma, M., Wilhelm Pinder en de Duitse kunstgeschiedenis. Groningen 1985. Hobsbawn, E.J. & T. Ranger, The Invention of Tradition. Cambridge 1983. Huisstede, P. van, De Mnemosyne beeldatlas van Aby M. Warburg. Een laboratorium voor beeldgeschiedenis. Leiden 1992. Jencks, C. (ed.), Visual Culture. London/ New York 1998. Kemp, W., ‘Vorwort’, in: S. Alpers, Kunst als Beschreibung. Holländische Malerei des 17. Jahrhunderts. Keulen 1985, pp. 7-20. Kristeller, P.O., ‘The modern system of the arts (1951)’, in: P.O. Kristeller, Renaissance thought II. New York 1975, pp. 163-227. Kristeller, P.O., Renaissance Concepts of Man and other Essays. New York 1972. Kristeller, P.O., Renaissance Thought. The Classic, Scholastic, and Humanistic Strains. New York 1961 (1955). Lavin, I., ‘Panofsky’s History of Art’, in: I. Lavin (ed.), Meaning in the Visual Arts. Views from the Outside. Princeton 1995B, pp. 3-8. Mare, H. de, ‘De verbeelding onder vuur. Het realisme-debat der Nederlandse kunsthistorici’, in: Theoretische geschiedenis, 24 (1997), 2, pp. 113-137. Mirzoeff, N., An Introduction to Visual Culture. London/ New York 1999. Muchembled, R., De uitvinding van de moderne mens. Collectief gedrag, zeden, gewoonten en gevoelswereld van de middeleeuwen tot de Franse Revolutie. Amsterdam 1991B. Ottenheym, K., ‘De correspondentie tussen Rubens en Huygens over architectuur (1635-1640), in: Bulletin voor de Koninklijke Nederlandse Oudheidkundige Bond (1995A), 1, pp. 1-11. Panofsky, E., ‘French and Franco-Flemish book illumination in the fourteenth century (1953)’, in: E. Panofsky, Early Netherlandish Painting I. New York/ London 1971B, pp. 21-50. Panofsky, E., ‘Three Decades of Art History in the United States: Impressions of a Transplanted European’, in: E. Panofsky, Meaning in the Visual arts. Papers in and on Art History. New York 1955B, pp. 321-346. 679 Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertatie Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 Panofsky, E., Iconologische studies. Thema’s uit de Oudheid in de kunst van de Renaissance. Nijmegen 1984 (1962). Panofsky, E., Idea. A concept in art theory. New York 1968 (1924). Payne, A.A., ‘Rudolf Wittkower and Architectural Principles in the Age of Modernism’, in: Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 53 (1994), 3, pp. 322-342. Sturken, M. & L. Cartwright, Practices of Looking. An Introduction to Visual Culture. Oxford 2001. Tafuri, M., Ontwerp en utopie. Architektuur en ontwikkeling van het kapitalisme. Nijmegen 1978. Tafuri, M., Theories and history of architecture. London/ New York 1980 (1968). Ungers, M., ‘Ordo, fondo et mesura: the Criteria of Architecture’, in: H. Millon, The Renaissance from Brunelleschi to Michelangelo. The representation of Architecture. London 1994, pp. 306-317. Van Eck, C., ‘Architectuurtheorie tussen wetenschap en ontwerpleer in Italiaanse architectuurtractaten van de late zestiende eeuw’ in: Theoretische geschiedenis, 26 (1999), 3, pp. 351-367. Van Eck, C., ‘The Structure of De re aedificatoria: a reconsideration of the relation between Vitruvius and Alberti’, in: Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians (1998). Van Os, H.W., ‘Kunstgeschiedenis en sociale geschiedenis’, in: Akt, 8 (1984), 4, pp. 15-23. Walker, J.A. & S. Chaplin, Visual Culture: an introduction. Manchester 1997. Wittkower, R., Architectural Principles in the Age of Humanism. New York/ London 1971 (1949). Yates, F.A, ‘The hermetic tradition in Renaissance science’, in: C. Singleton, Art, Science and History in the Renaissance. Baltimore 1970, pp. 255-273. Yates, F.A., De geheugenkunst. Amsterdam 1988 (1966). Yates, F.A., Theatre of the World. London/ Henley 1978 (1969). 680 

Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 PREFACE ‘It is curiosity - at least the only kind of curiosity that is worth pursuing with a certain tenacity: not a curiosity that tries to master the standard knowledge, but one that offers the opportunity to detach oneself from oneself. What would the lust to know be worth, if it only had to guarantee the acquisition of knowledge and not in some way the greatest possible embarrassment of the one who knows? There are moments in life when the question of whether you can think differently than you think and perceive differently than you see, is essential to keep looking and thinking’. Michel Foucault, Het gebruik van de lust, Nijmegen 1984, pp. 1314 (The use of pleasure, The history of sexuality, vol. 2). A cultural-historical research into the rules of thought can, of course, take many subjects. My PhD-research could very well have taken place in the field of the classic Hollywood film on which I worked for years and to which I have now returned. That the present book is ultimately about the house and the rules of thought in the Dutch seventeenth century is therefore less planned than it seems afterwards. My work at the Faculty of Architecture of Delft University of Technology in the period 1984 - 2001 played an important role here. In that context the question arose for me what was actually meant by ‘the house’. Both the famous Dutch public housing policy (volkshuisvestingbeleid) with its fixed standards and the odd status of the house in (post)modern architectural thinking prompted reflection. Moreover, from a feminist point of view, the house was always a highly charged subject. Nowadays, the field of the Dutch seventeenth century has a high research density and a far-reaching specialization. Cultural products such as paintings, architecture and literature are studied in separate scientific compartments. In addition, collective identifications and major financial interests are involved. One has to come from a good home in order to develop a new way of looking at this heavily loaded, overpopulated and parceled landscape. Given my own education in art and architectural history, a cultural-historical study of a trivial subject as the Dutch seventeenth-century house seemed the most appropriate. To this end I focused on sources that were familiar to me as an art historian: architecture, painting and literature. But in the recent publications on this subject I constantly found an incongruity with the early modern sources themselves, which in my view stemmed from assumptions that were not questioned. The mathematically obtained architectural design was regarded as ‘scientific’, while Calvinist morality was regarded as ‘patriarchal’ and Dutch genre art as ‘meaningful’. In the end, these presuppositions proved to hamper research into the early modern arts and a more comparative approach was necessary. The present book is the result of the research of the last four years. In the summer of 1996, two years after the birth of our son Caspar, I decided to finish my dissertation, but to shift the subject somewhat. Instead of concentrating on Stevin’s treatise on architecture and the city – which Charles van den Heuvel had taken care of with the support of NWO – I wanted to establish the cultural-historical significance of Stevin’s architectural thinking in two ways. On the one hand by focusing my research on the house. On the other hand, by expanding the historical material with sources that had my interest from the beginning: the work of Jacob Cats (literature), Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten (the art of painting). This double turn meant that part of my already finished research became superfluous, while at the same time new gaps arose. The advantage was that a comparative study could address more vii Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 interesting issues than a monodisciplinary study. So, I continued with the new project – in January 1997 I made a new start. Behind this somewhat unusual investigation into the rules of thought with regard to the house there are several motives. One of the most important was my commitment to the critical humanities that I got to know when I entered the Nijmegen Catholic University in 1975. In Louis Althusser’s Marxist conception of science and not much later in the feminist critique of science, prevailing thinking itself could be contemplated, questioned and analyzed. Thus, crossing disciplinary boundaries while at the same time taking the disciplines with their own research object and approach seriously became a permanent scholarly habit. Another motive came from personal circumstances. Coming from an Amsterdam social democratic milieu in the aftermath of the AJC (Dutch youth movement), but with no academic or artistic experience, no religious background or classical education, and at a time when secondary education was good enough for a girl, it was a personal emancipation to end up at the Catholic University of Nijmegen in which the centuries of history of art and elite culture were the subject of discussion and reflection. It turned out to be a custom of female students of good descent to use a year of art history to make a better match for male students of dentistry, and in addition to the fact that important cultural expressions were tested in the propaedeutic year as if it was a quiz, this led me (and many other students) to demand that art history become a scientific education. That’s is why we turned to reading Frederick Antal and Arnold Hauser on the social history of art or to Nicos Hadjinicolaou’s Louis Althusserinspired book on art history and ideology. John Berger’s Ways of Seeing (translated in Dutch as Anders Zien) was typical of what we were striving for at the time: academic study of art as part of a more comprehensive socio-cultural history. Through administrative activities, the publication of an institute magazine, kunstWERK (artWORK), and the organization of a symposium on art history between science and criticism (1978), we tried to give a voice to the plea for a differentiated socio-cultural approach. Then I made an equally profound transition from the French-intellectual climate in Nijmegen to Dutch pragmatism at the Faculty of Architecture in Delft. The vast difference in thinking between Catholic Nijmegen with its sensibility for the symbolic and the mythological and the Delft sense of rationality and planning I have experienced at first hand for many years. The geographical distance was accompanied by a cultural one. For thinking about the mental gap between these so different worlds within the Netherlands I had – partly thanks to many hours in public transport – enough time every week. The journey went from a suburb of Nijmegen, right through the Brabant countryside, via the Hollands Diep to the heart of the Randstad and its metropolitan thinking. Through a spatial transfer a cultural contrast could be imagined. In a similar way, I use my transfer in time. For me, historiography, in which the relationship of the present to a past is manifested, has become a way of bringing order. This applies not only to the present, which is always changing, but also to the past, which is constantly being highlighted differently as a result of changes in the present. but also to the past, which is constantly changing as a result of that change. So, for me, historiography is a way to examine both the past and the present. In that sense, I consider history to be as essential as it is unfinished. Furthermore, cultural anthropology turned out to be a way of looking at one’s own culture with different eyes. For example, I have used urban rituals to investigate the limitations of viii Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 urban thinking (De Mare & Vos 1993). Human nature turns out to be difficult to capture in such a strict rationality, it always turns up elsewhere, shaping its own existence. Combined with a historical approach, it has had a direct impact on my teaching in Delft. It made other (cultural-historical) questions possible in the research into current housing cultures in the Netherlands, questions that have no real place within the current curriculum of the Faculty of Architecture. In addition, I have approached classic Hollywood cinema – for art history initially only an inferior form of mass culture – as a modern form of mythology in which collective issues are thought through. It is my passion for images that connects all these investigations. It was no coincidence that I chose art history and later film theory. That passion returned in my research into the Dutch house in the seventeenth century. There this passion made a connection with the history of architectural theory, an area where the discrepancy between design and the stories about it takes on an extreme form. Especially in an area in which everyone considers themselves competent, it is a challenge to view visual material as a specific form of knowledge. This is what the architectural design has in common with other trivial types of images like film, paintings, advertising, comics, documentary or TV series. In all these cases, the visual artifact succeeds to derive knowledge from the eye. The naive viewer thinks that an image is open to all interpretations, that it requires little intellectuality and that it is there to be enjoyed or otherwise appropriated. I myself regard painting, film, emblem, architectural drawing et cetera as separate phenomena that require separate study. Directly linked to the question of how images work and how visual material generates meanings, I constantly wonder how words, texts and stories relate to these images. Images and visual culture always manifest themselves against a (con)textual background: an image in itself means nothing, it lends itself to many different meanings. I've had several teachers to whom I owe many thanks. My student years in Nijmegen (19781983) have been radical in this respect and have strongly determined my way of thinking. Especially Eric de Kuyper and Emile Poppe taught me to look in a disciplined way and to systematically think about (moving) images. Film semiotics of Christian Metz and Raymond Bellour, Russian formalism of Vladimir Propp and Roman Jakobson, in short, the tradition of Saussurian linguistics in which they initiated me, gave me insight into the processes of the signifying practice. The impact of these ideas in Versus, Dutch magazine on Film and the Performing Arts (1982-1992) in particular, with its theoretical articles and many analyses of classic Hollywood film, made this clear to me, not only for phenomena in the narrative field, but also for visual phenomena in general. Willem Frijhoff unlocked for me the broad field of cultural history. He has shown me over the years that each culture has many layers that each require a separate study: mentality, material culture, emotions, elite culture and folk culture, but also scientific knowledge. Historical anthropology, with its attention to trivial matters, to themes such as ritual and honor, inspired me to approach the world of the arts from a different angle. I had no need to write yet another history of unique works of art, genius artists or eternal beauty. Instead, I ix Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 wanted to compare the arts in the early modern period by examining the writings and various visual material in their trivial details. Yet I only got to know most teachers through their work. Michel Foucault has made an indelible impression on me with his archaeology of knowledge. His historical work on the words and the things, The Order of Things. An Archaeology of the human sciences inspired me to address similar questions in the field of art history. I was looking for an approach with which the specific character of visual material can be analyzed both systematically and historically. Something that Foucault himself – apart from his use of images to illustrate certain ideas – never tried. The various discussions with Anton Weiler about Foucault’s work have always encouraged me to continue in this direction and not to succumb to the easy solutions that are now commonplace within Cultural Studies or Visual Culture Studies. The work of anthropologists such as Claude Lévi-Strauss (on the savage mind), Mary Douglas (on thinking styles) and Wendy Doniger (on modern mythological thinking) connected precisely to this more cautious approach to the question of art history. Finally, a number of lines came together in the work of Svetlana Alpers. I am not only thinking of her The Art of Describing but also of several articles she wrote before. It was particularly inspiring that she sought the historicity of paintings primarily on the formal level and linked it to the way of thinking that took shape in the early modern period. Thanks to her historicizing problems, I have been able to develop my own thoughts. That is why her work – no matter how much I come to different conclusions, given different historical sources and – is one of the most important keynotes in this research. Nevertheless, there is a common thread in the many thinkers I have consulted over the past fifteen years. My selection of authors – or perhaps I should say the authors who nestled themselves in my thinking – was always based on two characteristics. First of all, the passion for the (visual) material one has in hand. Rarely or never are the writers close to my heart pure philosophers, pure historians or pure semiotics. They often combine a desire for order with the meticulous processing of various types of historical material. Second, the tendency to go off the beaten path. They are often sharp thinkers who, with a certain stubbornness, follow their own intellectual path. Just one more word about the profound influence feminism had. Although it can’t be read directly from this book, my thesis would never have been there without feminism. However, it played a complex role in which social engagement and the fight for a ‘room for yourself’ gradually shifted to thinking about this kind of engagement. After all, this manifests itself in a scientific interest in gender issues in combination with the everyday realization that one cannot ‘live according to scripture’, because life and thought each seek their own way. For me, feminism has not been limited to drawing – in terms of the Delft Faculty of Architecture – to ‘female-friendly’ facilities or appointing ‘female architects’. It made me ask more fundamental questions. For me, its emancipatory power has shifted to ‘a way of thinking’ and ‘a way of living’. Because time set aside for reflection is always time gained. Thinking about fundamental issues remains necessary when you are trying to conquer your own place in culture or science, but at the same time want to remain alert to changes and innovations. Fortunately, there are more and more women who think independently and do not allow themselves to be fooled by easily scoring opinions, intellectualistic-looking or politically x Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 correct opinions. Certainly within the fields of science that are at the forefront of this book, more women have published interesting studies in recent years. The fact that a lot of time has passed since I first became acquainted with this subject is indeed related to starting my own family and household. Although it still is not done to speak of the effects of caring for a personal life on carrying out a full-time job, it is still appropriate to do so when studying the house in history. The fact that I wanted to write a dissertation about the house in the early modern era is partly due to the many organizational and emotional uncertainties that are nowadays around house and home. Modern life, in which professional life unfolds alongside life with a partner and children, is very different from early modern life. I will keep silent about setbacks, resistance and obstruction. I prefer to thank those who have supported me all these years and continued to put their trust in this unusual project. I would like to mention my colleague Hein de Haan, the interim head of human resources Theo Korthals Altes and the recently deceased Frits van Voorden of the Faculty of Architecture, former chairman of the permanent science committee in Delft. At decisive moments, they gave me time to organize my thoughts and complete the book. I am grateful to Alexander Tzonis for the ample opportunity he has given me to complete the thesis in my own way. And finally, I would like to thank the Faculty of Arts of the Free University of Amsterdam, in the person of its dean, Geert Booij and the managing director, Bert Weltens, who gave me the opportunity to prepare the manuscript in a short period of time. Furthermore, in the past few months I have been supported by student assistants who took a lot of work off my hands. I would like to thank Maria de Lange for the professional presentation of the visual material, Maryl Adler for the final editing of text and notes, Elsbeth Fraanje for streamlining the extensive bibliography and Bonnie van den Bremer who checked the completed manuscript in a short time. Wil Zeegers and my colleague Connie Veugen I am very grateful for their help in the great transition from WP51 to WORD. I would like to thank Julian Orton for the reproduction of the different versions of the manuscript. I would like to thank Sybille Wijffels for her translation of a large series of Italian captions which Sebastiano Serlio had provided for his house drawings. Bernadette Klasen helped me at an early stage to systematically arrange the bibliography. My thanks also go to the Centre for Women’s Studies at the Catholic University of Nijmegen, especially to Willy Jansen and José van Alst. In the period from 1990 to 1997, the Centre offered me hospitality to write my PhD, although my appointment at TU Delft did not make that self-evident. The trust they placed in me year after year has been a great support. Moreover, the Centre kept reminding me of the possibility of an intellectual existence, a life I sometimes doubted because of the circumstances in Delft. In the corporate culture prevailing there, in which many professors do not have a PhD, most academic educated women do not have a family and the emphasis is on providing practical education, writing this dissertation on a cultural-historical subject was seen more as a personal luxury than as the necessary component of a dynamic academic faculty. Against that background, I am grateful to Irene Cieraad for taking over a large part of my teaching with enthusiasm, despite her own busy work. Because of her culturalanthropological interest in the house, she always provided new insights, different questions xi Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 and further research. By the way, I think back with pleasure to the weekly reading group architectural treatises. The lively, often hour-long debates with my colleagues Kees Vollemans and Herman van Bergeijk – at the illuminated table in the otherwise dark history department – have made my life in the gloomy building of Architecture more bearable in recent years. I would also like to thank Marijke Spies and Elizabeth Honig for the way in which they have commented on parts of my dissertation based on their expertise. I have greatly appreciated their guidance and hope that they can agree with the result in which the chapters about Jacob Cats and about Pieter de Hooch and Samuel van Hoogstraten are embedded in a broad context. Willem Frijhoff played a crucial role in the completion of this book. He helped me for many years with advice and deeds and removed many obstacles that arose during the course of the journey. The new forms of cultural history that I came to know through him were of decisive importance to me in my search for my own way in art history. In that respect, I hope that he will appreciate my research, in which the historical material of the visual arts occupies a central place, as a contribution to and expansion of that new cultural history. I thank Ed Tan for a very different reason. Only recently joined as second promoter, he paved the way a few years ago to present my ideas in a fruitful environment. This turn of events means a lot to me. I sincerely hope to be able to repay my debt by providing the comparative art sciences at the Free University Amsterdam with a solid cultural-historical basis in the years to come. I regard this book as a research programme that focuses on the fate of the arts in general and of word & image complexes in particular. Finally, I would like to thank the many friends and family members who continued to support me. Whether it was a critical reading of preparatory articles, challenging and inspiring remarks from one’s own (often far removed from the early modern era) specialism, or practical wisdom – they were all expressions of compassion. I owe many because of their patience over many years and my regular absence on social occasions. I hope to be able to make up for the omission in the future. I want to thank my father and my mother especially for the gift they gave me (and their other daughters) by letting us study. That gift is much more than they probably thought. Academic study has changed my world forever. Unfortunately, my mother has not been able to witness the completion of this book about the Dutch house and the cultural rules of thought. I would like to dedicate the book to them both as a gift in return. For Thomas and Caspar, the completion of this book marks the end of the period in their lives in which ‘dissertations’ circulated around our house as demanding boarders. Two dissertations within ten years does not make life easier for children. I want to mention Thomas because of all sorts of salient details that he pointed out to me in London in 1998 on the paintings of Pieter de Hooch, details that I hadn’t discovered myself yet. But also because of his many proposals for the title that the book should have – such as Homework or Oikos Logos – which typifies his unremitting interest in the project, especially when it comes to architecture, drawing and all kinds of visual material. Although Caspar has received less from the research process, it has become clear to him that writing a book is a kind of ‘clearance’. In his eyes I was miraculously transforming all the books in my study into a single book that xii Heidi de Mare, Het huis en de regels van het denken. Een cultuurhistorisch onderzoek naar het werk van Simon Stevin, Jacob Cats en Pieter de Hooch [2003, cum laude dissertation Amsterdam], http://hdl.handle.net/1871/10740 contained everything. Although he too is proud that it is finished now, I had to promise him not to write such a thick book in the future. Caspar’s biggest wish is that after my dissertation I will participate in expression at school and Thomas wants me to watch (many) more films together. And of course, the last word is for Gabriël, with whom I have shared joys and sorrows for almost twenty-five years. Instead of the obligatory thanksgiving to the partner, some digression is in order. Together with him I threw myself into a special adventure at the end of the seventies. Together we wanted to combine the full life of a family with children, with all the joy and care that comes with it, with the passion and demands of intellectual life. Together we still have to fight this combination on a daily basis – in such a way that it does not come at the expense of our (family) life. Although our background is quite different – in terms of profession and family origin – we share the will to think through the adventure of a modern life. Numerous conversations on a wide variety of subjects have resulted from this over the years. This shared fascination for the workings of culture and history, together with the love for both our sons, has dragged us through difficult years. In doing so, Gabriël continued to challenge me, as, in terms of Jacob Cats, a true ‘other half’, not only with intellectual questions, but also with his conception of differential historiography. He also showed the courage to take charge of the household for many years in addition to his own full-time working week. I thank him from the bottom of my heart for his mental strength. After all, he took care of the daily conditions so that I could write this project off from me. xiii