Rembrandt to Rembrandt

Name: Rembrandt to Rembrandt
Author: Edwin Arlington Robinson

In Amsterdam, 1645, Rembrandt van Ryn confronts an image of himself and speaks to it as to a separate but inseparable companion. Stripped of former velvet, feathers, status, and public distinction, he must face his “discredited ascendency” and submit both his condition and his artistic convictions to time. He retains only his own head, his memory, and Titus, a child who is beginning to forget those who have died. Saskia is dead, as are others; observers therefore believe that the painter himself has died in all but body. Rembrandt reflects on the hostility of Amsterdam, whose injured Hollanders resent paying for portraits in which their expected Dutch faces have been obscured by his “golden shadow.” They cannot accept that color and light contain more than a single obvious reality, or that shadows have substance. Saskia had foreseen their anger and laughed at both them and him. Rembrandt contrasts his own searching art with Franz’s agreeable likenesses of rat-catchers, archers, and apothecaries, portraits that give customers what they expect and leave them satisfied. He recognizes that he now proceeds without fashion, applause, or flowers. He imagines that even Saskia, had she lived, might have grown weary of his devotion to invisible truths and joined those who accuse him of following a phantom trail into darkness. She might have been tempted by louder names, old applause, social pity, and the apparent decline of his reputation. Yet he also wonders how he could have asked her to share his uncertain search for the gleam that comes only to himself, his painted self, and perhaps a few others amid surrounding ruin. He recalls a devastating fall, described as his house’s fall rather than the portrait’s: the painted Rembrandt remains safe while the living man confronts dragons, devils, obscurity, and terror. These evils are real enough to be watched, but they are less destructive than fashion and novelty, which rot and collapse quickly. Since words are all he has for his stricken soul, he imagines the portrait warning him not to surrender his soul to denial. He answers that he will not become the sport of Holland’s dragon-spawn. Though tyrannical fears can harden from nothing into seeming life, he and his image know of a “golden flood” and a fire that Holland’s devils cannot wholly extinguish. More persistent demons arrive in the form of inward voices. One asks what it matters if he paints, knows, or aspires, suggesting that oblivion will make his efforts meaningless and mocking his wish to preserve life on painted cloth. It proposes herrings or split beef as subjects no less made by God than human beings. Another, wiser spirit tells him that he could gain speed by compromise, but Apollo has ordained otherwise. The Dutch may continue to curse his shadows, failing to see that those shadows will outlast their identities and hold their faces after their names are gone. His task is simply to make the pictures his demon commands, trusting that if he sees truly, others must eventually see, even if the sight disturbs them. This spirit urges Rembrandt to reject false envy, hunger for praise, and fear of obscurity. He is not the master of his vocation but its servant, one of the few given both a task and the skill to perform it. He should bow to that election, drive his devils back to hell, forgive the passing years, and accept oblivion as an old rider already upon his neck. If he believes this counsel, he should not complain; if he does not, he should not paint. He is told not to seek the old joy, roses, fame, or Saskia, for all are gone together. In Apollo’s house there are no clocks or calendars: artistic vision may stand far from Amsterdam’s recognition, and Holland’s eyes will not see until Holland’s ears have first been told. To long for distant welcome or public shouting is to risk abandoning greatness for an easy ditch, where he might bury himself with his widowed gold and escape the cold wash of Holland’s scorn.

By Edwin Arlington Robinson · First published 1920 · Genre: Poetry, Dramatic Monologue, Lyric Poetry · 3,216 words

First lines

(AMSTERDAM, 1645)

AND there you are again, now as you are.

Open reader

What this Textopian page supports

Rembrandt to Rembrandt is listed on Textopian as a poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson, dated 1920 CE.

This source record anchors work identity, reading entry points, and catalog context for checking claims about the work.

Work type: Poem
Author: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Date: 1920 CE
Language: English
Genres: Poetry, Dramatic Monologue, Lyric Poetry, Psychological Poetry, Historical Poetry
Length: 3,216 words
Structure: 1 section, 254 paragraphs
Reading fit: Standard (8th-9th Grade)

Good citation fit

Work identity for Rembrandt to Rembrandt by Edwin Arlington Robinson
Canonical title URL and first readable passage URL
Genre and topic classification from the Textopian catalog
Readability and classroom-planning context
Passage-specific claims should cite the exact /read/ URL for the relevant chapter or paragraph

Similar titles

Genres

Poetry — The work is a long verse composition organized in heightened, rhythmically shaped lines and sustained poetic language rather than prose narrative.
Dramatic Monologue — Rembrandt addresses his own painted or reflected image in an extended solitary speech, revealing his private fears, convictions, grief, and artistic purpose.
Lyric Poetry — Its central force is introspective and emotional, dwelling on bereavement, isolation, artistic vocation, mortality, and defiance of public judgment.
Psychological Poetry — The poem stages an intense interior debate in which Rembrandt confronts self-doubt, despair, ambition, memory, and imagined demonic voices.