De Hooghe Research Articles

What Does Rape Look Like?

Abstract From the late Middle Ages into the Renaissance, a handful of narratives about sexual assault dominated Western Europe. In the seventeen novellas of Marguerite de Navarre’s Heptaméron (1559) that feature assault or attempted assault, these different narratives coexist. To date, scholarship has not extensively explored the relationship between the novellas of the Heptaméron and the first two sets of engravings to accompany them—those of Dutch artist Romeyn de Hooghe, in 1698, and those of S. Freudenberger and A. Dunker, in 1780–1781. This article addresses that gap, and, by means of a comparative reading, considers different narratives about sexual assault in the novellas and frame of the Heptaméron alongside these first two sets of visual engravings. It argues that the engravings more closely follow other visual tropes of rape than they do the text. In so doing, these first images of the Heptaméron favor more canonical representations of sexual assault that either heroicize, eroticize, or blame the subject of rape. What is lost is the polyvalence of the text; in particular, moments that document the responses and reactions of the women in the novellas and the opinions they put forth in the frame.

Rotterodamum: Romeyn de Hooghe’s Rejected Map of Rotterdam Rediscovered

Having been asked by the burgomasters of Rotterdam to make a prestigious wall map of their city, the famous printmaker Romeyn de Hooghe (1645-1708) initially supplied a disappointing product that the burgomasters rejected. It was known that this had happened, but what was not known is that a unique impression of the rejected map, titled Rotterodamum, survives in the Print Room’s collection. The discovery of Rotterodamum provided the opportunity to shed more light on De Hooghe’s commission, the production process and his working methods. Rotterodamum is thus an important link in the creation of the eventual, well-known map Rotterdam met al syn gebouwen, by De Hooghe and Johannes de Vouw (c. 1660-1707).

Spinoza in His Time: The 17th-Century Religious Context

In one of the last paragraphs of his Tractatus theologico-politicus (1670), Spinoza extolls the harmony between people of a diversity of faiths, maintained by the magistracy of Amsterdam. However, he also seems apprehensive about the possibility of the return of chaos, such as during the Arminian Controversies in the Dutch Republic in the 1610s and the English Civil War in the 1640s and 1650s. The so-called Wolzogen affair in 1668 probably rattled him. Spinoza’s fears would, however, prove groundless. Theological controversy in the public church was often fierce and bitter, but did not threaten the integrity of the State after 1619. Political and ecclesiastical authorities supported discussions and debate in which a new theological consensus could be hammered out. From the examples of Petrus de Witte’s Wederlegginge der Sociniaensche Dwaelingen and Romeyn de Hooghe’s Hieroglyphica, I will argue that such freedom was not limited to the universities, under the aegis of academic freedom, but that Spinoza’s call for free research and open debate was in fact everyday reality.

The Life of Romeyn de Hooghe, 1645–1708: Prints, Pamphlets, and Politics in the Dutch Golden Age, by Henk van Nierop

The Life of Romeyn de Hooghe, 1645–1708: Prints, Pamphlets, and Politics in the Dutch Golden Age, by Henk van Nierop

Disaster and Discord: Romeyn de Hooghe and the Dutch State of Ruination in 1675

ABSTRACT In 1675 the prolific etcher and engraver Romeyn de Hooghe designed, produced, and published a print depicting several disasters that had scourged the Republic of the Seven United Provinces from 1672 onwards. The print offers interesting insights in contemporary concerns that accumulated during All Saints Flood in 1675. In recent historical studies, the print has been used to illustrate contemporary belief in divine providence, and faith of the Dutch that history would take a turn for the better. But the iconography of the print is detailed and complex, and many of its vital elements have been ignored or were misinterpreted. Careful examination from an art historical perspective reveals that the print does not illustrate faith in a good outcome. On the contrary, De Hooghe accuses his fellow countrymen of a lack of faith using the New Testament story of a storm on the Sea of Galilee as a biblical parallel. Secondly, De Hooghe identifies discord as the cause of the current sad state of the Dutch Republic. He even implies that those responsible are the wealthy citizens in the prosperous Province of Holland who have neglected to take care of the republic’s poorer members.

De Poolse Hercules. Romeyn de Hooghe en de Nederlandse receptie van Jan III Sobieski voorafgaand aan het Ontzet van Wenen

This paper explores the Dutch perceptions of the Polish king John III Sobieski before his famous victory over the Turks at the 1683 Battle of Vienna. Sobieski’s military triumphs and rise to power in the 1670s elicited various favourable responses from the Dutch Republic, most notably several prints by the etcher and engraver Romeyn de Hooghe. His prints laid the foundation for Sobieski’s image as a great European and Christian military leader, but also a specifically Polish and Catholic hero. Sobieski’s war efforts and the image formed of him by De Hooghe cohered with the negative Dutch perceptions of the Turks, as well as with Poland-Lithuania’s reputation as a bulwark of Christendom. The countless glorifying prints, poems and other European responses to Sobieski after his victory at Vienna were in many cases inspired by the image of the Polish monarch created in the Northern Netherlands during the 1670s.

Christine Kooi. Review of "The Life of Romeyn de Hooghe 1645–1708: Prints, Pamphlets, and Politics in the Dutch Golden Age" by Henk van Nierop.

Christine Kooi. Review of "The Life of Romeyn de Hooghe 1645–1708: Prints, Pamphlets, and Politics in the Dutch Golden Age" by Henk van Nierop.

The Image of William III in Amsterdam after His Ascent to the English Throne: The Case of the Sheriffs’ Election in 1690

In 1690 William III and the city of Amsterdam fought out one of their regularly occurring political battles. This time the fight centred around Amsterdam’s refusal to send the nomination of the city sheriffs to England, where William III stayed after his ascent to the English throne. Amsterdam appealed to a privilege of Philip II which stated that the nomination should be sent to the Court of Holland in case the stadholder was not in the country. Superficially the conflict dealt with the sheriffs’ nomination, but in reality Amsterdam wanted to show William III its independence. The city feared the increased power of their stadholder who had also become the king of England. Moreover the Amsterdam regents thought that the king had subordinated the interests of the Republic to those of England, when he negotiated various treaties with the English in 1689. The political struggle was accompanied by a pamphlet war in which the pro-Amsterdam pamphlets accused the king of wanting to become a sovereign in the Netherlands. The pro-Williamite forces, who were supported by Romeyn de Hooghe and Eric Walten, denied this and blamed the Amsterdammers for playing into the French king’s hands by threatening to stop paying for the war against France if their privilege was not upheld. In the end, Amsterdam lost the battle because the other Holland towns did not support Amsterdam’s struggle to maintain its privilege.

The Function of the Two Title Prints of the Series of Bible Prints of RomeynS de Hooghe

The Reformation brought about an iconoclastic movement as a result of which cult images in the churches were removed and destroyed. Studying the Bible and preaching the word of God were the ways in which the new protestant faith was proclaimed. Nevertheless images, notably prints, continued to play a role throughout Europe, though exclusively at a didactic level. In the Netherlands, unlike the rest of Europe – mainly under the influence of prominent theologians of those days such as Gisbertus Voetius (1589–1676) – there were at first many objections to the use of visual arts. This changed in the course of time. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, a flourishing period arose for Dutch Bible illustrations. The famous Dutch printmaker Romeyn de Hooghe produced two series of the Bible prints, one devoted to the Old and one to the New Testament. These two series of prints were each preceded by title prints. These title prints and the explanatory texts accompanying them reveal a great deal about the use of prints in studying the Bible.

The good death

In my experience, there has been a good deal of positive attention to death and dying recently. This contributes to the raising of awareness of philosophical, practical and aesthetic aspects. The Wellcome Collection in London, for example, hosted a special weekend event on the theme of ‘What makes a good death?’ The weekend event coincided with a special exhibition of death-related art and artefacts collected by Richard Harris. A very positive feature of the event was the range of different disciplinary perspectives brought to bear on ‘a good death’. Kate Forde, Senior Curator, provided an overview of the Richard Harris Collection and discussed features of the exhibition, such as the dance of death, contemplation of death, commemoration, violent death and Eros and Thanatos. The Latin phrase ‘momento mori’ (remember you will die) was an unavoidable theme of the exhibition. Other speakers examined historical, philosophical and aesthetic dimensions of death. Sheila Payne, Director of the International Observatory on End of Life Care at Lancaster University, examined the changing status of the dying person over time and the evolution of the hospice movement. Christopher Belshaw, from the Open University, offered a philosophical perspective on the good death, beginning with the death of Socrates and exploring the death and perspectives of Hume, Wittgenstein, Kant and Nietzsche. He made a distinction between two kinds of ‘good death’ – one relating to pleasure and happiness and the other relating to morality (a morally good death). Sophie Bostock, Assistant Curator at the Barber Institute of Fine Arts, provided an engaging overview of ‘ars moriendi’ (the art of dying) through the etchings of 17th-century Romeyn de Hooghe. Desmond Biddulph, a physician and psychotherapist, detailed the Buddhist approach to life and death. Linda Woodhead, Professor of Religion and Society, described some of the changing rituals relating to death. She highlighted differences between the Christian ‘long death’ and the secular ‘short death’ and also current trends such as funeral cakes and tattoos created from the ashes of a dead person. A range of perspectives were presented, then, from the macabre to the curious to the profound. More locally, we organised a symposium on ‘assisted dying’ with speakers examining philosophical, legal and practice perspectives. The event brought together students and staff from law, health, psychology and economics and from different healthcare practice contexts. There was discussion of the meaning and role of concepts such as autonomy and dignity in the assisted dying debate and of attitudes to death and dying in our ‘death denying’ society. What was particularly positive was the focus on patient and family experiences, the value of end of life care and the respectful and enquiring spirit of engagement of participants. It is reassuring that academics, students and practitioners with very different perspectives can so readily find common ground with a shared vision for end of life care. Scholarship and research in healthcare and nursing ethics also make a valuable and, I would add, necessary contribution to our approach to death and dying. The special issue of the journal (19.5), edited

Short Contribution: Een nieuwe interpretatie van een Amsterdams stadsgezicht van Jacob van Ruisdael

Jacob van Ruisdael (1628/29-1682), the well-known landscape painter, produced some cityscapes as well. In those days he lived on the south side of Dam-square in Amsterdam. From his window he could see a part of that square and the Damrak. In this article the author proves, using history and observing the civic guard procession together with the colours of their flag, that his Mauritshuis-cityscape (View on the Dam square, fig. I), now in the Amsterdam Museum, is not just a cityscape, it´s much more. The day Ruisdael chose for his subject matter, August 15th 1672, was an important day in local history. Romeyn de Hooghe too, chose that very day for an etching (The Atlas van Stolk Collection, Rotterdam, fig.5). Concluding, Ruisdael´s painting has a special, historical subject : Amsterdam has chosen in favour of the prince of Orange.

Book Illustration, Taxes and Propaganda: The Fermiers Généraux Edition of La Fontaine's 'Contes et nouvelles en vers' of 1762 by David Adams

MLR, I03.3,2oo8 857 of the two,The Confessions du Comte de ***, treats issues similar to those of the Considerations, but with greater concision and with considerably less gravity, though both prefer euphemism toobscenity, abounding inmischievous ironies and allusions, but always within a framework ofmoral values, if liberally conceived. It is replete with witty epigrammatical observations thatmay be favourably compared with La Rochefoucauld's maxims. Douglas Parmee's new translation of these excellent tales combines accuracy with elegance, and succeeds well inpreserving the playful tone of the original textswhile being readily accessible to themodern reader. Parmiee prefaces his translationswith an informativeand entertaining introduction. The volume is,then,an altogether wel come addition to that small library of French literary texts available to those who cannot read French. Itmay also be of use to French degree students who need the support of parallel texts.However, it isdoubtful that thepotential market for such a publication is very large.This is to be regretted, since, a prominent member of the literarysociety of his day, and an author of nomean talent,Duclos deserves tobe read bothwithin and outside France. The Confessionswent through sixteen editions in the eighteenth century, and thework was certainly read byRousseau, who may even have borrowed the title forhiswell-known autobiography. It ispossible, too, that the tales inspiredDiderot (Les Bijoux indiscretsand La Religieuse), Laclos's Les Liaisons dan gereuses, and perhaps even Sade's Justine, narratives which echo themisfortunes of Madame de Luz, theheroine of thefirsttale in thisvolume, thesemi-historical Histoire de laBaronne de Luz. Recognizing the quality and importance ofDuclos's contribu tion to literature,Sainte-Beuve wrote a detailed study of a corpus ofwork whose gentle ironies and humorous attitudes to sexual liaisons, balanced by a shrewd psychological insight, are as instructive and entertaining today aswhen theywere first written. LONDON METROPOLITAN UNIVERSITY JOHN PHILLIPS Book Illustration, Taxes and Propaganda: The Fermiers Generaux Edition ofLa Fon taine's 'Contes et nouvelles en vers' of I762. By DAVID ADAMS. (SVEC, i) Oxford: Voltaire Foundation. 2oo6. 428 PP. ?65. ISBN 978-0-7294-0885-I. This book is a labour of love and awonderful piece of scholarship and criticism. In the I750S the company of royal tax gatherers decided to procure an edition of La Fontaine's saucy verse taleswith newly commissioned illustrations byCharles Eisen. In one sense David Adams's work is the story of thisbook. The fermiersgeneraux no doubt saw theirventure as a commercial exercise: finebooks with lavish illustrations could sell for a lot ofmoney to the growing numbers of rich bibliophiles. But it is Adams's contention that thechoice of textand Eisen's manner of illustrating itcan be seen as thefermiers's assertion of the freedomwith which theywent about pursuing their own interests and advancement. They were, of course, an unpopular group. Adams sums up their reputation as 'rapacious, cruel and sybaritic' (p. 48). Unfor tunately (for them), they suffered increasing numbers of polemical attacks and, not long after thevolume had been published in 1762, theywithdrew itfrom sale.Adams suggests that thiswas because the ideological implications of thevolume would serve only to fan the flames of hostility.The poems and illustrations can certainly be seen tocelebrate personal freedom. But the images of folly,duplicity, immorality,freedom from all conventional restraintmight also be taken to reflectdirectly on the fermiers and, furthermore, might offend all readers by suggesting thateverybody is as bad as theyare. The withdrawal did not prevent thework being sought after (then, as now) as amajor achievement inbook illustration.And indeed Adams's argument depends crucially on the illustrations.He is fullyaware of theother editions of La Fontaine's 858 Reviews contes then available: most unillustrated, some illustrated by Romeyn de Hooghe, others by Charles-Nicholas Cochin. Adams claims that it is the use and nature of Eisen's illustrations thatmake the I762 edition so distinctive and thatunderline the ideological reading appropriate to its tax-gathering begetters. Only the I762 edition uses full-page illustrations thatcapture details suggesting a libertarian disrespect for authority (especially royal authority).Adams's approach has determined thestructure of his book. Between two long introductory and concluding chapters are sandwiched two chapters looking in turn at each of the twovolumes of the I762 work...

Rembrandt's Jews (review)

Reviewed by: Rembrandt's Jews Kalman P. Bland Rembrandt's Jews, by Steven Nadler. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. 250 pp. $25.00. Readers of this exemplary book are in for a series of pleasant surprises. They start at the very beginning, with the book's title. Despite the grandeur suggested by its two terms, the title is restrictive and modest. In choosing it, Steven Nadler, an intellectual historian and celebrated biographer of Spinoza, seems to have been guided by the ancient rabbinic principle of ethically parsimonious speech: emor me'at ve-'aseh harbeh. The book accomplishes far more than its title promises. The book indeed probes deeply into all aspects of Rembrandt's personal, financial, and artistic relationships with Amsterdam's Jews. The book also probes to equal depth and with equally impressive sophistication many other aspects of the seventeenth-century intersection between Dutch Jewry and Dutch culture. Borrowing a term from Salo Baron's monumental social and religious history of the Jews, the book might fairly and more prosaically have been called "The Multiple Visual Dimensions of Dutch Jerusalem." Consider the List of Illustrations. Of the twenty-five handsomely reproduced black and white figures, seven originate with Rembrandt; of the eighteen even more splendidly reproduced color plates, again only seven originate with Rembrandt. Among the black and white figures are five drawings and etchings produced by Romeyn de Hooghe, including Circumcision in an Amsterdam Sephardic Family, View of the Portuguese Synagogue with Bridge, and The Jews' Cemetery. Among the color plates are two paintings by Emanuel De Witte (Interior of a Church and Interior of the Portuguese Synagogue in Amsterdam) and four paintings by Jacob van Ruisdael (Wheatfields, Landscape with Blasted Tree by a Cottage, and two renditions of The Jewish Cemetery). Admirably avoiding [End Page 131] the common pitfall of using illustrations merely to adorn or accompany the text, Nadler subjects all of the figures and plates to well-informed critical scrutiny. He consistently offers persuasive and insightful accounts of their formal traits and iconographic significance. With Ruisdael's paintings of The Jewish Cemetery and its potentially messianic implications firmly fixedin our mind's eye, Nadler cautiously rejects the messianic implications. He summarizes his general conclusions with these words: "Perhaps. Or maybe Jacob van Ruisdael, that most recognizable of Dutch painters, an artist who saw the sublimity in the flat, low-lying land in which he lived, was, once again, simply exploring the dramatic possibilities of a landscape. If so, he unwittingly contributed—like de Witte with his Synagogue, de Hooghe with his prints of Amsterdam's Jews at services, and Rembrandt with his paintings and etchings of his [Ashkenazic and Sephardic Jewish] neighbors—yet another Dutch icon to the history of Jewish art" (p. 221). Nadler conscientiously specifies what he considers to be the salient characteristics of these Dutch icons. On the one hand, they profoundly differ from the medieval stereotypes and traditional portrayals of the despised Jew: "And then we come to seventeenth-century Dutch art, where we find . . . nothing. Utter plainness. There is a uniformity in the depiction of all walks of life. Ugliness and deformity are there, but they represent the common sins and foibles of all mankind. . . .There is no special iconography reserved for the Jews. The depictions of Jews and their activities are generically no different from those of wealthy regents, middle-class merchants, and indigent laborers. The naturalistic renderings, the settings of everyday life, and the easy integration in their dress, architecture, and habits into Dutch culture make the Jews in the art of Holland's golden age perfectly ordinary" (p. 221). Similar conclusions are reached regarding the stark contrast between Albrecht Altdorfer's sixteenth-century negative depiction of the synagogue in Regensburg and "de Witte's respectful portrayals of the Jewish congregation and the architectural achievement of which it was so proud" (p. 180). On the other hand, Dutch images of the "ordinary" Jews, according to Nadler, are also characterized by profound Dutch affinities—ethnic, political, cultural, and religious—with the Jewish nation. Readers will delight in Nadler's discussion of the many reasons for and multi-faceted expressions of these Dutch affinities, perhaps never as intensely and...

Sites of Power

ABSTRACTDuring the Dutch Golden Age of mapmaking, the views of foreign harbours produced for the East India Company (VOC) took on special significance and were even adapted into full- scale paintings in the office of the directors in Amsterdam. Produced by Johannes Vingboons, son of the Flemish emigre painter David Vinckeboons, these atlas views survive in a number of studies and finished folios, including a volume in the National Archives in The Hague. Three of these images, however, attest to the limits of the power and expansion of the VOC in East Asia. One, a view of the capital of Siam, Ayutthaya, shows a city worthy of comparison to Amsterdam in its canals, its scale of expanse, and its faithfully rendered towers of gilded Buddhist temples. This was clearly a kingdom with which the Dutch had to treat as equals, and the VOC established a regional factory' on the outskirts. In similar fashion, the rendering of Osaka Castle shows the formidable military defense apparatus of Momoyama Japan with carefully noted details that have no parallel among Dutch atlas views. Both of these kingdoms remained untouched by the might of the Dutch seaborne empire and offered trade only on specified and limited conditions, such as the entrepot in Nagasaki. A final, exceptional image in the Vingboons Atlas in The Hague is a coloured etching produced by Romeyn de Hooghe. It commemorates the Dutch military victory that finally secured hegemony over the trade in the entire spice islands archipelago, the Battle of Makassar. In addition to the VOC commander, Speelman, this print also memorializes Buginese leader Arung Palakka. The insertion of this unique battle scene amidst the otherwise placid views of shorelines and harbours in the Vingboons Atlas clearly points to the struggles for economic and military dominance in the Asian seas which drove the Dutch colonial mapmaking enterprise.

Some Penetrating Insights

Clyster syringes, used to administer enemas, appear with considerable frequency in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century painting and caricature, where they support an unmistakable scatological context.1 Artists at this time were especially responsive to the satirical possibilities inherent in Louis XIV's passion for enemas, as a particularly explicit political cartoon by Romeyn de Hooghe shows (fig. 1). The scene depicts the French roi de soleil, identified by a sun-burst on his head, sitting atop a terrestrial globe, impaled upon a large clyster syringe. Lacking the necessary commode, the contents of the royal bowel, successfully loosened by the procedure, spill over the world. Holland seems to get the worst of it, with various German cities (Heidelberg, Offenburg, etc.) also receiving the exalted anal effluvia. The background of the scene alludes to the chaotic events of the year 1674 (the date inscribed on the clyster syringe), as rampaging Protestants burn and pillage the landscape. A representative of Spain, allied with France, appears at the left, seated upon a unicorn with ass's ears. In the eyes of a Dutch satirist, the military, religious, and territorial policies of Louis XIV, embodied in the enema syringe and the incontinence resulting from its use, have befouled the earth.

'De eer des vaderlands te handhaven': Costerbeelden als argumenten in de strijd

'De eer des vaderlands te handhaven': Costerbeelden als argumenten in de strijd

An Ars moriendi with etchings by Romeyn de Hooghe. The history of a cycle of book illustrations

Composed in 1673 as the result of the collaboration between the Franciscan David de la Vigne and the Dutch etcher Romeyn de Hooghe, the cycle of illustrations of the Miroir de la bonne mort was actually first drafted in an unillustrated booklet by Father David which appeared in Paris in 1646. The iconography itself was originally conceived in Spain, and a series of drawings survived. It is perfectly possible that De Hooghe elaborated his cycle of etchings on the basis of these models. Some two years later the cycle appeared in a twin edition in the Southern Netherlands.

An Ars moriendi with etchings by Romeyn de Hooghe. The history of a cycle of book illustrations

AbstractComposed in 1673 as the result of the collaboration between the Franciscan David de la Vigne and the Dutch etcher Romeyn de Hooghe, the cycle of illustrations of the Miroir de la bonne mort was actually first drafted in an unillustrated booklet by Father David which appeared in Paris in 1646. The iconography itself was originally conceived in Spain, and a series of drawings survived. It is perfectly possible that De Hooghe elaborated his cycle of etchings on the basis of these models. Some two years later the cycle appeared in a twin edition in the Southern Netherlands.