How well do you know your Roman history? Even the most avid armchair Romanologist today might miss what was obvious to Rembrandt’s audience, even with few clues beyond a glinting dagger and a blood-soaked shift: the tragic story of Lucretia. The virtuous wife of a Roman noble killed herself after being raped by the son of Rome’s tyrannical king, and her enraged husband and father launched a rebellion to overthrow the king that resulted in the Roman Republic. This story, recounted by the Roman historian Livy, resurfaced as a morality tale during the Middle Ages and a model of republican values during the Renaissance: a leader must answer to the people he serves.

Rembrandt’s version of the Lucretia legend is pure psychological drama. Largely bypassing the sensational violence that other artists focused on, he lets her face—its averted gaze and eyes welled with tears—tell the story.

Rembrandt used techniques in painting Lucretia that suggest he created this work very quickly, possibly in a matter of days. He used his palette knife—a tool with a thin, flexible blade—to paint the majority of Lucretia’s clothing. To produce the shadows on her attire he scraped paint away to reveal the brown-colored ground (the base layer of a painting) below.

Why Lucretia is gripping the cord remains a mystery. Is she ringing for help, having second-guessed her suicide attempt? Holding herself up as life drains away? Metaphorically closing the curtain on her life? Whatever the interpretation, the cord was a common prop used by artists’ models.

Rembrandt was a master of chiaroscuro, the use of strong contrast between dark and light to suggest volume. The space surrounding Lucretia is left as vague darkness, though some viewers perceive a bed in the lower left.

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