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Painted around 1628, possibly earlier, Rembrandt’s painting of Suffer little children to come unto me is currently in a conditional twilight zone, since it is halfway through a restoration, in which later overpaintings are to be completely removed. Although the present owners want to bring the painting back to its original state, it is highly questionable what will emerge under the paint layers: a complete painting or a non finito painting riddled with holes like an Emmental cheese.
Painted around 1628, possibly earlier, Rembrandt’s painting of Suffer little children to come unto me is currently in a conditional twilight zone, since it is halfway through a restoration, in which later overpaintings are to be completely removed. Although the present owners want to bring the painting back to its original state, it is highly questionable what will emerge under the paint layers: a complete painting or a non finito painting riddled with holes like an Emmental cheese.
The specialists agree that several unaffected figures near the wall in the middle of the background have all the characteristics of original Rembrandt figures of that period: at the top of the pyramid, leaning over the wall, the self-portrait of the painter, the old man below him, who looks a lot like the quack on the recently discovered Patient (The sense of smell), now in the Leiden Collection, and the three women; the one to the left in other paintings traditionally being recognised as Rembrandt’s mother. Perhaps large parts of the painting were never completed in the late 1620s, when the original composition was conceived and the pictural organisation was broadly outlined in lead white, as can be seen in the X-ray picture.
The overpainting was probably done in Rembrandt’s studio some time after 1633, given several motifs that seem to be derived from other Rembrandt paintings of this period. This is not the place to speculate by whose hand they were painted; but it remains a pity that some figures will be sacrificed to recreate an pseudo-authentic image, since a positive outcome is by no means certain.
Rembrandt, Suffer little children to come unto me, Property Jan Six et al.
It is possible that Rembrandt brought an unfinished painting with him from Leiden to Amsterdam, that stood in his workshop for years before he had it completed by his pupils or apprentices so that it could be sold. Be that as it may, the differences in iconography between the original painting, or what has been revealed of it so far, and the later composition, are worth treating briefly, in anticipation of the completion of the restoration and the publication of the catalogue of the upcoming exhibition in Leiden which hopefully will contain an extensive entry on the painting. The X-ray image can also be used for this short analysis.
Until now, a kneeling woman with an intricate headdress, one of the mothers of the children, reappeared from behind the scraped off layers of paint. The four children in the foreground still have to be removed to expose the original composition. The face of the boy to the left, who peeks from underneath the cloak of the bearded apostle with the stretched arm – St Paul – has already been partly defaced. Instead of the boy’s left eye one sees now a part of the right shoulder of the kneeling woman.
The apostle, who, in terms of physiognomy, is in line with Rembrandt’s depictions of St Paul from 1628, such as in Peter and Paul disputing in Melbourne, seems to be a later addition by another hand, since his appearance is more reminiscent of the 1633 Apostle Paul at his desk in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna, that is, by the way, no longer attributed to Rembrandt. Under the lofty stature of the apostle with the red cap is another figure, yet to be uncovered, that is visible in the X-ray: a man with a turban. Behind the severed right hand of Christ, that formerly rested on the curls of a little boy in front of him, a child’s head has emerged: a bald baby? If so, we may wonder, by whom then this infant is being held? Or is it a rather “sketchy” older boy who is standing?
Also the two children in the foreground will ultimately give way to the primacy of Rembrandt’s primary invention. The girl with the blue robe with embroidered gold brocade has already lost her crown chakra for restauration purposes. And the little boy who is seen on the back has already made way for a slightly bigger boy whose bare buttocks are visible. Apparently this original detail was not appreciated, since it was later overpainted, perhaps on behalf of the owner: or else it was covered so that it would be less offensive to certain god-fearing buyers. This old-fashioned classicising motif can also be found in other illustrations of the subject, such as Cornelis Cornelisz. van Haarlem’s Suffer little children to come unto me of 1614 in the Schleissheim Gemäldegalerie and a painting with the same subject of 1633, by the same artist, now in the Frans Hals Museum: both paintings show boys turned with their naked backs towards the viewer.
On the basis of these differences between the original composition and the repainted version one can already observe a few things with regard to the painting’s iconography and to which denomination it seems to be connected. First, one should know that the depiction of the biblical theme originated in a Lutheran context. Lucas Cranach the Elder introduced the iconography of Suffer little children to come unto me in northern art. The earliest known paintings with this subject are dated 1538 and show Christ surrounded by mothers who present their children to the Saviour. The story of Christ blessing the children appears in all three synoptic gospels (Matthew 19: 13-15, Mark 10: 13-16, Luke 18: 15-17). In Matthew’s rendition of the story one reads how the disciples initially rebuked and sent away those who brought their children to Christ, whereupon Jesus spoke to them: “Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.” This discussion among the apostles seems to have been depicted in the original representation on the right, where an apostle, apparently Peter, is counting on his fingers, an argumentative form of gesticulation that usually signifies some kind of discussion or logomachy.
The image of Christ blessing both children of different ages and adults can be understood in a general sense as a representation of regeneratio, the spiritual renewal in baptism to participate in the death and resurrection of Jesus. It has also been put forward that Cranach’s paintings, which depict mothers with infants and toddlers, visually reverberate a debate within Reformation theology, by taking a stand in support of the tradition of baptising children against adult baptism as advocated by the Anabaptists.
It is characteristic for the depiction of the biblical subject in the Low Countries that the attention for the mothers around Christ gradually shifted during the seventeenth century to the children of a single household. This change of focus occurred for several reasons, some of which sociological, but mainly because both Calvinists and Catholics wanted to distance themselves even more from the practice of adult baptism by omitting in these paintings ‘random’ adults whose presence could not be explained by a parent-child relationship. There are indications that also in Rembrandt’s painting several mothers were painted over in favour of an iconography focussing on a single “family unit” with only one mother.
The striking attention given to the figure of St Paul, in the centre of the repainted composition could point to a work that was iconographically attuned to the preferences of Protestant buyers. This, however, seems to be disproven by the now vanished gesture of Christ, who initially laid his hand on the head of the boy. Christ’s blessing of the children can be represented in all manner of ways; in this particular way, or as an embrace with arms extended, but also by Christ having his arm raised with two fingers in the air: a general benediction that goes out to all children depicted. In Catholic family portraits with the subject of the Suffer little children to come unto me, Christ is usually shown as having placed his hand on the head of a child, as is the case in Jan de Bray’s portrait historié of the Braems family of 1663 (Haarlem, Frans Hals Museum).
In another Catholic family portrait, painted by Van Dyck circa 1617, a boy is being blessed by Christ through the laying on of his hand (Ontario, National Gallery). It has been assumed that this painting was made on the occasion of the boy’s first communion or Confirmation, since in the last ritual the laying on of hands plays an important role.
(N.B. In the Roman Catechism of 1566 the Council of Trent determined 7 to 12 years the aetas perfecta for the Sacrament of Confirmation, with preference given to the latter age.)
The reformers especially took offense at this touch gesture (epithesis cheiron) in the Sacrament of Confirmation, because it was introduced by the Catholic Church as a separate sacrament in distinction to baptism. During the ritual of Confirmatio, the baptised receives the Holy Spirit to renew and perfect the baptismal grace. For the intended effect, the Confirmation is called the sacrament of the Holy Spirit, as baptism is the sacrament of the Father and the Eucharist is that of the Son. And because of the words spoken by the priest at the outpouring of Holy Spirit (‘signo te signo crucis’), one also speaks of the Holy Seal (Eph. 1:13). As with baptism, the catechumen is anointed with the holy Chrisma (1 John 2:20, 27). According to Calvin, the Confirmation consequently undermined the meaning of baptism.
The theological dispute about Acts 8 was not only caused by the distinction between baptism and the laying on of hands, but also by the association of the laying on of hands with the endowment of spiritual gifts or extraordinary power by the Holy Spirit (Acts 8:5-8; 14-17). Ananias did indeed place his hands on Paul so that he might be filled with the Holy Spirit (Acts 8:17, 9:17, 19:6), but according to Calvin this was not a sacrament: “The ancients speak of the laying on of hands, but do they call it a sacrament? Augustine openly affirms that it is nothing but prayer.” Calvin also interpreted the laying on of hands, in the light of 1 Tim. 4:14; 2 Tim. 1:6, as a form of invocation in which God was implored to bestow spiritual gifts of grace (charismata) upon the (newly) baptised. In the Catholic tradition, however, preference was given to the sacred sacrament as the basis of the promise of grace. Luther allowed the laying on of hands in the anointing of the sick (and in exorcism) on the grounds of Mark 16:17-18, although he, of course, did not accept the act as a sacrament. Calvin, on the other hand, was of the opinion that the miraculous power of laying on of hands had only been active at the time of the apostles.
The popularity of the subject in art proves that teaching the principles of faith to children as early as possible was considered extremely important, but also expresses fear that the smallest children would be excluded from salvation on the basis of the sola fide principle (faith as a condition for justification and sanctification) because they would not yet fully comprehend the rudiments of the Christian belief. Calvin demonstrated in 1536 the evidence for the existence of the children’s belief on the basis of Matthew 19:14. From 1539 onwards, he interpreted it as follows: Christ, through whom only the Kingdom of Heaven is accessible, wants to show, by embracing and praising the children, that his grace is not limited only to adults. In Calvin’s Institutes (III, xiv, 12), believers are urged to embrace each other with the same love with which Christ had embraced them, on account of Ephesians 5:1. Mercy, after all, was ‘nothing else but the undeserved kindness of God, by which the Father embraces us in Christ.’
In a monumental depiction of the subject by Werner van den Valckert, showing the Protestant Poppen family, it is striking that Christ actually spreads his arms, thus making an embracing motion. Moreover, Christ focuses mainly on the younger children, the babies and toddlers in the foreground. Because of their young age they cannot be confused with confirmees. Apparently this rendering of the event has been a deliberate choice, which can be explained by the Reformed convictions of Michiel Poppen, who commissioned the painting in 1620. It is unclear whether Christ stretches his left hand towards the seated baby or that he touches his forehead with the left ring finger. Even then it looks more as if he is stroking the child through his hair than ritually laying on his hand, since the child’s face is turned to the other side. It is important to note that the two infants in the middle foreground embrace each other, like Calvin urges, and have not adopted a praying posture, as is custom in Confirmation scenes. The two older children standing behind Christ do pray but are beyond Christ’s reach: the little boy in the sky-blue robe clasps his hands, while the crying child has folded his fingers together. His forehead is touched by the apostle Peter’s left hand; through the child’s distress Van den Valckert wanted to make clear what error St Peter and his successors in Rome had made. With his right hand, Peter tries to keep the children away, as the Bible tells.
It is open to doubt whether the young Rembrandt will have studied the subject matter as closely as Van den Valckert and if he was already capable of displaying its complexity in an understandable way. Unfortunately, the X-ray image does not provide an answer as to the manner in which Christ approaches the children in the original composition. We cannot pinpoint with absolute certainty where both of his hands are or how they are located with respect to the children because of the radiation-blocking lead white of later overpaintings. Was he welcoming them with open arms, in anticipation of a warm embrace, or was he laying his hand on one of them similarly to the situation in the overpainted end product? So far, we only may discern that Christ’s right hand was initially lower. Does the lower position of the hand mean a smaller and a younger child? Since the curly boy is still in the middle of his disappearing act, we can only speculate what the exact iconography and original significance of the painting was, and which conclusions must be connected to the assembly of parts. In the coming period I will keep you informed of developments. In due course, when everything has been brought to light, an article with extensive notes will be dedicated to the painting.
Published earlier on: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/rembrandts-suffer-little-children-come-unto-me-some-rudie-van-leeuwen/
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