Abraham Bredius was not just the collector of the 17th-century Dutch paintings now housed in the Bredius Museum. For twenty years he was the director of a major Dutch museum, the Mauritshuis at The Hague, and in his day probably the most renowned and authoritative connoisseur of Dutch 17th-century art. In retrospect, his most valuable work was perhaps his archival research. Bredius was born on April 18, 1855 on Amsterdam's Prinsengracht. His father, Johannes Jacobus Bredius, was director and board-member.of a powder factory, De Gezamenlyke Buskruidmakers van N.-Holland, Utrecht en Zeeland, as well as on the council of the Union of Polder Drainage Boards of Zeeburg and the Diemerdijk. Grandfather Abraham Bredius owned a powder factory, De Krijgsman, which still operates today in the town of Naarden; he, too, was a Polder Drainage Union councillor for Zeeburg, Diemersdijk and the Zeedijk east of Muiden. He owned a fairly important collection of Chinese porcelain and 17th-century Dutch paintings, which were to form the basis of his grandson's collection.
The Bredius family is mentioned as early as the 17th century - in London. A son, Pieter Bredius, was a doctor in Amsterdam, and his son, our Bredius' great-grandfather, was churchwarden of the Oude Kerk in Amsterdam. The distaff side numbered a few carpenters: nowadays we would call them contractors or architects.
A prosperous 19th-century family, the Brediuses spent the summers in 'Oud-Bussem', their country house near Bussum. Bredius' mother died when he was only ten, which probably accounts for her only child's strong attachment to his father. In a letter written toward the close of 1892 he refers to '... my dearest father, the greatest treasure I possess, is seriously ill ... ‘.
A German tutor gave him his first lessons; he later attended a French school.
According to his biographers, Abraham was originally intended for trade. He himself had quite different ideas; his great passion was music. He was eventually allowed to devote himself entirely to the piano, an activity he pursued for three years before realizing that he would never make it to the top. He decided to make the piano his hobby, and his passion for music continued to occupy a constant and important place in his life.
To help him get over his disappointment, his father sent him in 1878 to Italy for a few years. He was deeply impressed by the Italian art treasures, and it was while visiting the Uffizi in Florence that he might have met Wilhelm von Bode, the famous director-general of the Berlin museums. On Von Bode's advice, Bredius focussed his attention to Dutch 17th-century painting, knowledge of which was sparse in the Netherlands in those days. There was certainly some justification for an article deploring the Dutch nation's lack of interest in its own culture, entitled Holland op zijn smalst (Holland at its narrowest), which Victor de Stuers (1843-1916) had published as early as November 1873 in the journal De Gids.
The effect of De Stuers' article on Bredius is illustrated by the latter's account of 'a hidden treasure', written in 1879. It is chiefly about the paintings in the Hofje van Mevrouw van Aarden in Leerdam (where the first thing he saw on entering was a Frans Hals masterpiece!), and closes with the words: 'Here, where - let us face it - the broad public has so little appreciation or love of art, it is perhaps desirable to draw attention to such facts (the whitewashing of old murals and the demolition of old churches)'.
Partly as a result of his polemic article, De Stuers was put in charge of the newly created department of Arts and Sciences at the Ministry for Home Affairs. It is to him that the Dutch are greatly indebted for the preservation of their cultural heritage. De Stuers became a figurehead for modern ideas about the preservation and management of monuments. Although he was admired for his energetic approach, his cross-grained, despotic character was feared. According to his daughter he was exceedingly genial in the family circle, but unpleasant to people he disliked. His nickname, Minister of the Beaux-Arts, testifies to this.
The cited above quotation is not the sole proof of Bredius' approval of a number of aspects of De Stuers' cultural policy. One of De Stuers' theories, for instance, was that the craftsman's work would benefit from a closer contact with art. He consequently strove for better instruction at applied art schools.
Bredius' ideas ran along similar lines: 'A museum of (fine) antiquities is not solely for the entertainment and study of a few art-lovers but will surely, when suitably and thoroughly displayed, also have a cultural and formative effect on the nation, even on one so little aesthetically-minded as ours. In particular, it can form the taste of the craftsman.'
A year after his encounter with Von Bode, Bredius wrote a number of articles on Dutch paintings in the Nederlandse Spectator. They provide an insight into his approach: like Von Bode, he had travelled all over Europe to study art collections. He was one of the first Dutchmen to do so, his father's fortune providing the wherewithal. His basic knowledge came from various handbooks.
Bredius was able to put the knowledge he had acquired into practice in 1880, when he was appointed deputy director of the Netherlands Museum of History and Art at The Hague, which merged with the Amsterdam Rijksmuseum in 1885. A passage from the letter of recommendation to the King describes him as a man '... who has made a special study of the old art of our nation both at home and abroad, and published in various journals the knowledge thus acquired...'. The 'special study' had covered a period of not quite two years.
As deputy director of the Netherlands Museum, Bredius catalogued its paintings. He resigned in 1888 for reasons unknown. Secretary-general P.F. Hubrecht added the following comment to his letter of resignation: 'What a pity that this particular man wishes to leave this branch of service. The R.M. (Rijksmuseum) has benefited considerably from his highly expert and independent work.' A good year later - on May 20 1889 - Bredius was invited to become the director of the Mauritshuis. De Stuers' own desire for this position probably did nothing to improve their relations. At any rate he objected that Bredius would not want to live in The Hague, which in the event proved untrue: Bredius had a pied-à-terre there ever since taking the post at the Netherlands Museum. Another of De Stuers' objections was that Bredius had obtained his honorary degree abroad.
De Stuers had still not given up hopes of the directorship by 1897, as intimated in a letter he wrote to Minister van Houten: 'I hear that Bredius is applying for 2 months' leave in April to travel to Russia. That being the case, Your Excellency could avail yourself of my services. I am not unfamiliar with the Mauritshuis.' His offer was declined. Shortly after his appointment, Bredius began to reorganize the museum under De Stuers' eagle eye. At the end of September he suggested laying a parquet floor like the one in the Pulchri building (the premises of an artists' association), 'crafted according to the best authority - that of our foremost Dutch painters'. In November he ordered the renovation and decoration of the ground floor. A few years later he agitated for the restoration of the attendants' former uniforms: '... Their previous simple attire, black jacket, waistcoat and trousers, with a badge of orange ribbon, was regarded generally, not least by our artists, as suitable; restrained and neat. Apparently our attendants were suspected of wearing their museum clothes outside the Museum, which was the reason for introducing the gaudy suit to which such justiflable exception is taken. Nonetheless I can assure you that our attendants have never worn their uniforms outside the Museum. Proper control makes this impossible. Furthermore, a jacket worn in the Museum every day - for a whole year! - and supplied at a cost of approximately 15 guilders, is soon so shabby that no self-respecting employee would serve at table in it…’.De Stuers had his own opinions about all these measures, and even more so about the paintings Bredius proposed to buy. In Bredius' eyes De Stuers had abused the rule that the Ministry's approval was needed before the director could effect a purchase. In the time of Bredius' predecessors, it was De Stuers who had made such purchases above the heads of the directors, and his acquisitions included a number of second-rate works. The dossiers show that the Minister and Secretary-General frequently had to restrain De Stuers: faced with a director with greater expertise than usual, De Stuers found it hard not to interfere. He argued that he wanted to prevent two national museums from bidding for the same work and consequently against each other. In fact, though, De Stuers was convinced that he had more knowledge and understanding of art than most museum directors. His office was close by the Mauritshuis on the Binnenhof, and he must certainly have dropped in on the - in his opinion - inexperienced Bredius to offer the occasional piece of well-meant advice. Little effort is needed to imagine how Bredius - who like De Stuers was convinced of his own abilities - reacted to what he regarded simply as petty interference. Bredius, in turn, was constantly aggravating De Stuers with his revelations to the press of professional secrets and his public denigration of people. He furthermore commanded a greater Ministerial respect than other museum directors. The impression I have gathered is that in critical periods of his directorship, Bredius received support from the Ministers of the Interior, Mackay (in office from 1888 to 1890), Goeman Borgesius (I897 to 1901), and to a far lesser extent from Minister van Houten (I894-1897).

When De Stuers quit the department of Arts and Sciences to be succeeded as head by J.A. de Royer, relations between the Ministry and Bredius underwent a complete change. De Royer basically placed museum acquisition policy in the hands of the directors. Unlike his predecessor, he himself preferred to take a back seat. A few typical examples of the occasionally petty differences between Bredius and De Stuers will suffice. In 1894 Bredius asked permission to buy Rembrandt's Holy Family Resting during the Flight into Egypt (a grisaille) from W. Nijhoff. After De Stuers had perused the application, permission was granted. A few weeks later, Bredius added the following passage to his application to purchase another picture, an Adriaen van Ostade this time: 'I think it undesirable for this spot on the painting (where the signature was) to be moistened with saliva, as recently occurred at the Department of the Interior in the case of the Rembrandt painting'. De Stuers sent notes flying to and fro, both to Bredius and the Minister, finally declaring to the Minister: '... the entire affair is simply a joke, intended to represent me as a stupid vandal. Fortunately I know for certain that no saliva of mine ever touched the painting. There was absolutely no need for this, because Rembrandt's signature was as large as life...'. De Stuers had catalogued the paintings of the Mauritshuis as early as 1874. Bredius, a year after assuming his post, had re-christened thirty or forty of them. The annoyed De Stuers wrote an anomymous article for De Amsterdammer, aimed at casting doubts at the new attributions. In 1891 the Mauritshuis engaged a new deputy director, Dr. Cornelis Hofstede de Groot, at that time on the brink of a brilliant career. He and Bredius issued a catalogue raisonné of the collection in 1895. According to a letter which Bredius and De Groot sent to the Nieuwe Rotterdamsche Courant (a national daily) on September 4 1895, De Stuers had been complaining that they had copied his work 'with the exception of the biographical notes, without his permission and without informing him previously to boot, showing a complete lack of delicacy.' That same year, Bredius bought a house in The Hague, no. 6 Prinsengracht, and moved in with his servant, Willem Goudkamp. He lived there until his move to Monaco in 1922.
Hofstede de Groot left the Mauritshuis in 1896 to become director of the National Print Cabinet in Amsterdam; he was succeeded, to Bredius’ chagrin, by F.G. Waller. Bredius had a candidate of his own in mind, Frits Marcus, whom the government however turned down. This caused Bredius to proffer his resignation for the first time during his directorship. He suggested that the true reason for Waller's appointment was that Minister Van Houten backed Waller because papa Waller was earning money for him on the Stock Exchange'.
The affair fizzled out, but relations between the two gentlemen remained strained. Bredius imputed all sorts of evil deeds to Waller, alleging that he smelt of liquor, was not interested in art and was surreptitiously hatching schemes with De Stuers. Others, though, praised Waller's mild character. His authorship of a biographical lexicon of North-Netherlandish engravers and the bequeathal of his fortune in the form of the F.G. Waller Fund for annual purchases for the National Print Cabinet are ample evidence of his artistic interests. He resigned his post in 1900, confining his activities to the management of the Leiden print cabinet, whose acting director he had become at the same time as his appointment at the Mauritshuis, until 1906.
Bredius and De Stuers collided again in 1899, this time on a matter of books. Bredius was not only constantly buying paintings, but books too, without asking previous permission. He frequently advanced the necessary sums out of his own pocket, regularly contriving, however, to exceed his budget. To De Stuers' chagrin this course of action usually met with approval. In this particular case, Bredius had again submitted an excessive bill for books purchased for the Mauritshuis. De Stuers grasped the opportunity to remark that there was little point in establishing an art library at the Mauritshuis in view of the fact that the Royal Library was a mere stone's throw away. Bredius promptly countered by remarking that it was necessary for the museum to own a large amount of illustrative material, because people often brought paintings along to be examined; in those days, it should be added, the Netherlands Institute for the History of Art (RKD) did not yet exist. As proof of the good use to which Bredius put the books he bought, and with the remark that De Stuers would do well to study specialist literature too, Bredius cited the following example to the Minister:
'Some years ago jonkheer Victor De Stuers purchased a painting (a XVIth-century portrait) in Brussels that he recommended to the then Minister as extraordinarily noteworthy and which was therefore acquired for the National Museum. Had the Head of Department been more familiar with the illustrated volumes on the Berlin museum, he would not have been so eager to buy the picture - a copy of a portrait by Jan van Scorel in Berlin...'.
His protests were to no avail, and he again tendered his resignation, seeing in this treatment a lack of confidence in his directorial actions. In his letter of resignation to the Queen, he stated that he had encountered so much opposition from both his deputy director and the Ministry for the Interior's department of Arts and Sciences that it was impossible to perform his task.
A draft recommendation to the Queen to which a note from De Stuers was appended clearly demonstrated the attitudes of Minister Goeman Borgesius and De Stuers in the affair; they held that Bredius had been given preferential treatment, and was always bothering the Minister with unimportant matters; he had repeatedly harassed De Stuers in the press with wounding reports. Both gentlemen found Bredius touchy, boundlessly vain and heedless of his actions and their consequences. De Stuers thought it was high time for the Minister to stand up to Bredius!
Letters from Bredius to De Koo, editor-in-chief of De Amsterdammer, show that Bredius would have hated to leave the Mauritshuis: '... but the poor Museum. Yes, I confess it grieves me deeply to have to leave it, and all because of that filthy jesuit's (i.e. De Stuers') scandalmongering. But for him, I could have gone on enriching the collection and quietly removing the inferior works for another 25 years.'  The Minister probably persuaded Bredius to withdraw his resignation, although the official correspondence gives no hint of this.
Although Bredius' career as museum director was conspicuous for his difficulties with his superiors, they are eclipsed by his achievements for the museum. During and after his directorship he loaned 25 paintings to the museum, including Rembrandt's Homer and Saul and David. On his death it transpired that he had left them to the museum. The story about the acquisition of Saul and David is well known. The French art-dealers Durand-Ruel had sent the picture to Amsterdam in 1898 for a Rembrandt exhibition. The Rembrandt Association decided to " to buy it for the nation; the price was about a hundred thousand guilders. The government, however, thought its proposed share - a quarter - far too high, whereupon Bredius made the splendid gesture of announcing that he would sell his horse and carriage and economize on his annual expenses so as to be able to buy Saul and David and donate it to the Mauritshuis. While he was director a total of thirty paintings was bought, most of them important, and a number of inferior works were gotten rid of.
Other museums that benefited from his generosity - and from his desire to preserve Dutch art for the Netherlands - were the Rijksmuseum (to which 46 paintings were donated between 1880 and 1895), the Dordrecht Museum, the Frisian Museum at Leeuwarden, the Frans Hals Museum at Haarlem, the Haags Gemeentemuseum at The Hague, the West Frisian Museum at Hoorn and, of course, the Bredius Museum; he also presented a large number of 18th and 19th-century costumes to the Netherlands Museum of History and Art.
Bredius terminated his activities as director of the Mauritshuis on June 30 1909 for reasons of health. His successor was Professor Dr. W. Martin (1876-1954), who had been deputy director since 1901. No-one was surprised that Bredius was appointed honorary advisor to the Maurits-huis, to which, after all, he had loaned a number of important works. It would not have been very politic to have failed to satisfy his vanity in this manner. Bredius took his honorary position very seriously. Unfortunately it, too, led to difficulties when in 1921 others besides him were consulted about the purchase of an Albert Bouts. Once more he felt it incumbent on him to publish his grievances in the press and resign his function. During this period he had bought Rembrandt's Elevation of the Cross in the hope of selling it to the Mauritshuis. Martin, though, preferred a primitive — the Albert Bouts. Hofstede de Groot and others suspected Bredius of thwarting this undertaking in a fit of pique.
Article 6 of the Regulations for the Director of the Mauritshuis forbade the director to deal in old paintings. Directors of the Rijksmuseum were not allowed to form private collections. Bredius certainly did form his own collection, but exactly how he went about it cannot be established with certainty. In 1946 Professor Martin wrote that his approach was absolutely unsystematic. Once he had set his heart on a picture, he would do anything to get it. Generally speaking, he would sometimes buy paintings for their interesting characteristics, sometimes for their quality — or both: the collection contains signed works by both minor and major painters. Bredius' criterion for the latter category was that the painter should have departed from his usual theme.
Around 1880, scarcely any Dutchmen had combined archival research and stylistic criticism for the purpose of a professional study of old Dutch painting. Forerunners had been Fr. D.O. Obreen (1840-1896) and A. van der Willigen Pzn. (1810-1876).
It was not possible to study art history on a formal basis in the Netherlands until 1907, although it was possible to acquire the relevant knowledge abroad. A few foreigners such as Wilhelm von Bode and the French art critic E.J.Th. Thore-Burger (1806-1869) -who published the first Vermeer monograph — had specialized in Dutch painting. They had not been able to examine many sources, of course. Bredius must be credited with having continued the line of investigation pursued by people like Obreen. For 45 years, wrapped in furs and shawls, he delved into the notarial deeds of Amsterdam, Dordrecht, and other towns. He published the results of his detective work — and there was a lot of it - in his 7-volume Kimstlerinventare, still one of the most frequently consulted reference works today. He also published many of his findings in Oud Holland, an art review founded in 1883, and in other leading journals at home and abroad. Whenever it was to his colleagues' advantage, he spontaneously placed his findings at their disposal. From 1886 onwards he was one of the editors of Oud Holland, ensuring — on the financial front too - its continuing authoritative voice.
The importance Bredius attached to archival research is demonstrated by his reaction to an anonymous reproach that he devoted too much attention to it. He replied in the columns of Oud Holland that every detail contributed to a more accurate picture of an artist. 'We have hence not hesitated to irnpart everything the archives record about the life of our great native painter (i.e. Rembrandt). The light of truth cannot harm Rembrandt's noble figure. His shade need not shun the 'strong light' which he held so necessary for his golden paintings and which we may shed on his path without scruple. Rembrandt becomes closer and more precious to us with every detail of his life that we succeed in uncovering.' This was not Bredius' sole claim to fame, however. His reputation was also due to a considerable extent to what Professor Martin referred to as his 'fine taste, shrewd connoisseur's eye and flair', qualities which stood him in good stead during his frequent expeditions to art collections. He was often able to identify a painting at a glance, basing his judgement on comparison and what might be called 'intuition'.
In 1897 he took a lengthy trip to Russia, visiting museums on his way. In one collection he saw Rembrandt's Polish Rider: 'A glance at the whole picture and a few seconds' examination of the technique were all I needed to be convinced that one of Rembrandt's greatest masterpieces had been hanging in this remote place for almost a hundred years! ... How much longer must such a superb work remain in an almost inaccessible castle in Galicia, far from the inhabited world?'
From 1909 on, Bredius was able to travel from one country to another for months on end. A young man calledjoseph Kronig usually accompanied him. Obvious destinations were Germany, France, Spain and Italy. A passport issued to Kronig for Russia shows that the two toured that country from December 2nd 1909 to March 24th 19 1 0. For the Nieuwe Rotterda?nsche Courant Bredius wrote a lengthy report of another trip this time through the United States of America from late 1913 to early 1914, again accompanied by Kronig. In 1924 he crossed the Mediterranean to Algiers.
Interviewed by Mr. Harms Tiepen in 1908, Bredius aired the opinion that a museum director ought to get around a lot: 'You have to be acquainted with the museums and not only be on a good footing with art- dealers but above all keep in contact with them, in order to know where the work of this, that or the other painter is hanging; you have to keep it all in mind. Of course you must have sufficient funds. And besides all that familiar terrain you also have to minutely explore virgin territory: the private collections!...'.
In about 1925 Bredius wrote a short treatise on the training of future museum directors. He also remarked on the importance of having seen so much. His leitmotiv, though, was that it was essential to possess a good pair of eyes, without which no study, however comprehensive, would be any use: '... I readily admit the excellence of academic training, but it is not everything, and means nothing if the aspiring Museum director lacks the paramount qualification: love of his profession, and, in the case of an art museum, a passionate love of art! But that is not all. He must possess a shrewd, innate sense of discernment, and good taste. Both can and must be fostered by the regular observation and study of works of art. Without this natural aptitude, all efforts will be fruitless. Many are called, but few are chosen - particularly apt in this case ... The degree of Doctor is not a sine qua non for the future directors of our painting collections. I believe that the most learning can be acquired outside the University; let us not forget that the most brilliant Doctor summa cum laude cannot guarantee that the aspiring director will be- able to tell a copy from an original. There really are some people who, no matter how hard they try, simply cannot graduate from high school, but who would make excellent museum directors.'
What Bredius thought about the art of his own day is stated in an essay on Dutch painting of 1898: '... the revolution in our art that has occurred during the past 50 years can be succinctly described as: the reversion of rigid classicism and in particular of a morbid romanticism towards the good old basic principles of Dutch art, towards that healthy realism which is confined to depicting Nature; simple reality, ennobled and hallowed, however, by the painter's eye that registered it.'
His list of painters from the latter half of the 19th century demonstrates his appreciation of those artists in whose works he detected something of Rembrandt, Bosboom's 'touch', for example, resembles that of the mas- ter; the work of both painters darkened in tone towards the end of their lives. jozef Israels, in particular, trod in Rembrandt's footsteps: '...
Israels is a great poet with the brush. He succeeds in carrying you away with his brush. Although often compared with Rembrandt, he is a less gifted colorist.'
Bredius also compared contemporary landscapists with those of the 17th century. In his opinion, the spiritual father of the modern landscape was Jacob Maris: Bredius observed that the Dutch were gradually beginning to admire Maris'impressionism. Those who objected to it at first'were forgetting that Rembrandt's Jewish Bride and the late Haarlem works of Hals, which they honored and admired so profoundly, were in reality nothing but purely impressionist art.'
Bredius thought it a pity that certain less obviously 'Dutch' artists like Thijs Maris andjan Toorop had abandoned their earlier manner in favour of 'paths remote from all that art has trodden'; he regarded the work of Theo van Hoytema and Gerrit Dijsselhof as 'quite peculiar, more like decorative art - but art'.
His essay cites the two St. Luke's (painters) Guilds in The Hague: ‘Pulchri Studio’, the older, which housed all that Was great and good in our School', and 'the Haagsche Kunstkring’, where the fruits of a seemingly fantastical degeneration of art can be seen, the work of the symbolists, the Pointisten (sic), the work of movements which surpri§e us at first, even causing some of us to laugh, but which do often display a serious endeavour to walk new paths in the infinite region of art.'
Incidentally, Bredius was a member of the Haagsche Kunstkring when he wrote these remarks.
In foreign art, too, Bredius preferred works that had something in common with his beloved 17th-century paintings. He mentions Constable, the early Turner, Reynolds, Gainsborough and Cotman, Corot and the American painter Mary Cassatt; he was less enamoured of the late Turner and Claude Lorrain. All in all, he evidently experienced some difficulty in keeping abreast with contemporary developments in art.
 

As the years passed, Bredius' powers of judgment deteriorated. Moreover, according to some people he was, if not purblind, at least extremely myopic. Nonetheless, he was still considered to be a kind of art oracle until he was over eighty. As late as 1937 he was consulted about Van Meegeren's Christ at Emmaus; leading art-historians such as D. Hannema, A.M. Hammacher, H. Luns, Dr. J. 0. van Regteren Altena, Dr. Fr. van Thienen, Cornelis Veth and Dr. A.B. de Vries promptly accepted his judgement. If Bredius had hesitated for just a second, Christ at Emmaus would perhaps never have landed in Rotterdam's Boymans-van Beuningen Museum. He wrote about it in the Burlington Magazine: 'It is a wonderful moment in the life of a lover of art when he finds himself suddenly confronted with a hitherto unknown painting by a great master, untouched on the original canvas. One of his largest works, quite different from all his other paintings and yet every inch a Vermeer ... In no other picture by the great master of Delft do we find such sentiment, such a profound understanding of the Bible story - a sentiment so nobly human, expressed through the medium of the highest art.' He dated the picture as '... earlier phase ...’ He had given up painting large compositions because they were difficult to sell, and painters like Dou and Mieris were already getting big prices for their smaller works...'. It is striking that Bredius' arguments for proving that the painting was genuine might equally convincingly be applied to the contrary. The discovery of a masterpiece like this must have marked the pinnacle of his career as an art historian.
After quitting the Mauritshuis in 1909, Bredius had more time to devote himself to research. He also seems to have more time for clashing with other connoisseurs, particularly Hofstede de Groot, on the subject of certain attributions. For example, in 1911/12 he was one of the first to defend the attribution of Elisabeth Bas, a painting hitherto regarded as one of Rembrandt's best works, to Ferdinand Bol. Hofstede de Groot and others firmly upheld the old judgement; Bredius' attribution has since been generally accepted. Ten years later, in 1921, he set the cat among the pigeons with his criticism of Dr. W.R. Valentiner's Rembrandt, wiedergefundene Gemälde in 120 Abbildungen, claiming that most of the attributions in it were incorrect. The reputations of many experts who adhered to Valentiner were at stake. Current opinion justifies Bredius to a great extent. Hofstede de Groot was, again his opponent in this and another difference of opinion concerning a number of still lifes bearing the monogram 'A.C.'. They had always been attributed to Aelbert Cuyp, but Bredius discovered that they must have been painted by Abraham Calraet, a conclusion refuted by Hofstede de Groot. After a somewhat virulent and public battle of the pen, Bredius was vindicated. The issue was important to both men because, to quote Hofstede de Groot: '... what is at stake is whether an injustice is being done to a painter regarded by Bredius as a leading artist of our 17th-century school, or whether a time-hallowed famous master is being deprived of a major part of his oeuvre…
Dissension between the two men was mounting, not only in matters of art history, but on a personal level as well. During De Groot's deputyship at the Mauritshuis, the two had collaborated on a catalogue raisonné of the collection. They had been linked by a common passion, an highly improbable situation really, in view of their disparate characters and varying opinions about art history. 'In the end, despite his respect for Bredius, De Groot could no longer endure what he held for the other's 'dilettante' approach; on the other hand, the schoolmaster in De.Groot made Bredius bristle', wrote H. E. Gelder in 1931.
In 1907 it came to open controversy. Bredius' protégé Kronig had attributed a few paintings in the Louvre to Elias Pickenoy. Hofstede de Groot informed the curator of the Louvre, Leprieur, of his disagreement. On being told of this by De Groot in person, Bredius twice wielded his pen to assure Leprieur that De Groot was simply 'rongé de jalousie' of the young Kronig's shrewd connoisseur's eye, and accused De Groot of wanting to be the sole oracle in the field of art.
Even after De Groot's death, Bredius continued to nurse his antipathy. Hofstede De Groot had bequeathed all his research notes and photographs to the nation; they formed the basis for the present Netherlands Institute for the History of Art at The Hague, which is why Bredius never went any further than the porter's lodge of the building when he wanted to speak to the director.
Bredius made many enemies because of his blunt manner of expressing his views. However, such clashes were of minor importance to him, no matter how worked up he could be about a presumed act of injustice to a painter. Art was paramount to him, especially the art of the Netherlands' golden age. It is not surprising that opinions about him differed widely. Antoon van Welie, who painted the portrait now hanging in the Bredius Museum, described him as always willing to review or expand his opinions; Victor de Stuers regarded him as a misguided seeker of justice who would do anything to be proved right. Martin called him 'jumpy, agitated, nervous and testy, fierce and enthusiastic'. Van Welie spoke of a pleasant personality, alert, his enthusiasm easily aroused. There are many veiled references to his vanity. He was conceited enough to be piqued at having to wait until late in life for recognition of his achievements: he eventually became an Officer in the Order of the Lion of the Netherlands, and Grand Officer in the Order of Orange-Nassau, two very splendid honors.
His irascibility was displayed in his habit of promptly blazoning any grievances in one of the dailies or weeklies. The following story is appropriate in this context. In 1906 Bredius bought a house at no. 3 Koningskade in The Hague (no. 5 after subsequent renumbering). In close proximity was a playground, part of the Zoo complex on the Koningskade. Although he did not reside in the house, he was so irritated at the noise the children made that he would sound a foghorn for several hours a week, causing the neighbours to complain, of course. He was suspected of fearing that the noise from the playground would affect his chances of finding a tenant. In any event, he had no trouble in renting the house to a dowager.
Not one biographer mentions Bredius' frequent gifts to charity. His postcards from abroad to his servant Willem Goudkamp show that he made regular donations to widows and others in need. It is not known what sums were involved. He himself later told of how he earmarked an annual amount for the poor, besides paying annuities to his father's faithful retainers. The information is too sparse for an opinion to be, formed.
Bredius was not religious; in 1892 he wrote to Alphonse de Stuers: 'Permit me to refrain from sending you a chilly card with a couple of lines to wish you all the best for 93. 1 am a poor comforter. 1892 brought you sad days, sad experiences. Unfortunately I am not entitled to console you with religious exhortations to be 'resigned ‘...... ‘
His political leanings, like his artistic ones, were on the conservative side. In 1918, for example, he felt constrained to complain in a letter to the press that the farmers were holding back the buckwheat harvest because of the poor market price. He opined: 'This is criminal; and such lack of any communal feeling on the part of the farmers, whose earnings after all are quite good, is deplorable... We would all pull together so as to make this kind of thing impossible. The rich pay nearly their entire income in taxes; everyone suffers and loses except for a few war-profiteers. Why should the farmers go unpunished for the reckless destruction of their sorely needed grain?...'
Jozeph Otto Kronig has been mentioned several times. He was born in 1887 and was a resident of The Hague. He described himself as an 'art critic'. In 1907 he moved in with Bredius, who greatly admired his eye for paintings. We have already seen how highly he praised Kronig in the two letters he wrote to the curator of the Louvre in December 1907 and January 1908. In these letters Bredius describes how impressed other art historians, such as the directors of the Berlin museums, were. Bredius apparently wanted to promote Kronig's career - he referred to him as his 'foster son' at the time - in the world of art. In 19 10 Kronig was appointed director of the Frans Hals Museum in Haarlem for one year. In 1911 Bredius, a member of the supervising board of the city's museums, tried to obtain tenure for him, but was opposed by the council. According to the museum's annual report for 1911, Kronig had declined a permanent post.
After Bredius had moved to Monaco, Kronig went abroad too. He did not settle in Monte Carlo but in Florence, where Bredius is said to have bought him a villa. Kronig paid regular visits to his old friend.
Bredius' interest in the male sex did not go unnoticed. Reports from people indirectly connected with him and his circle show that nobody was in any doubt as to his homosexual tendencies. At any rate, neither he nor Kronig ever married.
The only allusion to any kind of sexual matter that Bredius is known to have made was in a letter he wrote to De Koo in 1899: '... Waller has told Flugi (a trainee at the Mauritshuis) something about the very peculiar relations between you and me which have come to light. I asked him what he meant and he said that he had given his word of honour not to talk about it - I would have to find out for myselfl'
Bredius regularly entertained his guests on the piano at gatherings occasionally graced by musicians such as Richard Strauss and Willem Mengelberg. In interviews, Willem Goudkamp also mentioned Max von Schillings, Kreisler, Edward Bok, Couperus, the sons of the ex-Kaiser of Germany, the Grand Duke of Saxen-Weimar and the Austrian ambassador, Gistra.
Rumor has it that Bredius' circle was involved in a scandal toward the end of 1919, but it is hard to discover any link with Bredius' rather abrupt departure for Monaco in 1922. From April 1st his address was the Villa Evelyne, Boulevard de Belgique, in Monte Carlo.
His official reason for leaving the Netherlands was crippling taxation: 'I have no choice. I pay 55-60% of my income in taxes. In addition I pay considerable sums (annuities) to faithful retainers of my father's house and factory. I have also been in the habit of setting a sum aside for the poor. Otherwise I have lived simply, for art. I have never kept an automobile or a carriage, but even this simple life is being made impossible for me. The Government wants it all. We are selling the factory. Careful management and a modest dividend will bring in more money, but that will be treated as income. If things go on like this, I shall have to go to court.'
According to a letter to a friend, he finally received a promise that he could keep his 100,000-guilder tax debt if he moved to Monaco.
He found his Monaco house far too damp to hang a single picture. Above all he felt that his paintings belonged in the Netherlands. In 1921, at the time he thought the government was treating him so badly, he had seriously contemplated transferring the paintings on loan to the Maurits- huis to the Lakenhal in Leiden, but after much persuasion on the part of the authorities, he refrained.
He sold his house on the Prinsengracht to the municipal council of The Hague for 100,000 guilders, throwing in his big Jan Steen painting of the Satyr and Peasant (cat. no. 42) with the deal. His collection was loaned to what became the Bredius Museum, and passed into the city's possession on his death. The council gratefully accepted the offer almost unani- mously. Willem Goudkamp became resident custodian after Bredius' departure. Bredius himself planned to spend a month in The Hague three times a year - a longer visit would have rendered him still liable to taxation. Later, like Kronig, he acquired Monagasque citizenship, thus avoiding fiscal problems.
e heaved a great many sighs when he went, miserable at having to leave everything behind. Eventually, though, he acquiesced to the change. His health benefited from the Monaco climate, and he could work in peace on his publications: a book on Jan Steen appeared in 1927, and his famous work on Rembrandt in 1935. The latter owes much of its reputation to the collaboration of Schneider and Gerson.
Bredius’ testament named Kronig as sole heir and executor. On Bredius' death Kronig moved into the Villa Evelyne, where he lived untill his death in 1984. Bredius bequeathed the paintings on loan at the Mauritshuis to the nation, and the previously pledged paintings and objets d'art in the Bredius Museum to the city of The Hague. He left his notes to the Netherlands Institute for the History of Art.
According to a letter from Bredius' secretary, André Mersel, to their mutual physician, Dr. van Tricht of Monaco, Kronig had made Bredius a ward of the court, so that nothing in his testament could be changed. The Dutch consul at Monaco promptly informed his government of Bredius' death, which occurred on April 13, 1946. He also represented the government at the funeral, which was held on April 15 in the Cap d'Ail cemetery. Among those present was the Secretary-General of Monaco. A guard of royal carabineers saluted the coffin as it left the house.
A controversial figure. To some it was an amiable, kind man who had passed away, to others a tyrannical art autocrat. Some of his work, many of his attributions to Rembrandt in particular, have not stood the test of modern criticism. It should be realized, though, that Bredius had to rely on his memory to a far greater extent than later researchers, who had much more photograps and reproductions at their disposal. Let us award Bredius the status he deserves: a great pioneer in the field of source examination and a passionate advocate for the preservation and appreciation of 17th-century Dutch painting.


Louise Barnouw-de Ranitz
(Translated from the Dutch by Ruth Koenig